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chronicas · 1 year ago

Note

I've been following you for so long but I know nothing about your OCs (how? Idk.) so how about a basic rundown or something? Who's on the roster.

Ooooh man we've got a menagerie of guys over here in the Noxsylvaniaverse. Sorry I went overboard.

WELCOME TO THE NEW REQUIRED READING (joking)

ARRAY OF CICADAS Akira Akamatsu -> Devan Ranim -> Karma Gjalleon

Genre: Fantasy, Sci-fi Core themes: Comradery, grief, and redemption

Array of Cicadas is about a girl struggling with grief and the adventure that helps her come to terms with it. Akira is the protagonist (but not the main character) of AoC. Growing up in the magical realm of Genesis, Akira was raised as a Fire Mage, hiding from her family and everyone she knew that in reality she's an extremely rare Elemental Mage. She hid her power solely because she REALLY didn't like the son of the dragons (Ryuji, he's on this list in spirit) who would've become her teachers had she revealed herself. She moved from her magical homeworld to live on Earth and go to college after her sister's death. Family drama gets her thrown into Hveske where she meets her soon-to-be best friend, Devan! Devan is best described as Positive Change Personified. As the true main character of the story, there are very few people who's lives aren't improved by having this little guy in it. He meets Akira in the middle of his own personal quest to help his friends take down the Izebellian Empire, that's currently threatening to take over his home realm Hveske. Devan might still be just a kid, but he's always coming up with bright ideas that've gotten him and his friends out of dozens of scraps. Karma Gjalleon is the main antagonist of AoC. An unknown threat looms far greater and more powerful than that of the Izebellian Empire, that is the Regicidal Regent, Karma Gjalleon! She was once ruling regent of Hveske a few thousand years ago, but decided to broaden her horizons and now plans to conquer the entire universe! Her desire is to eradicate all tyranny by becoming the ultimate tyrant, once she has successfully done this, she wishes to be taken down herself by a righteous hero.

Array of Cicadas: Cryptadia Serendipity Grace Vulcan -> Salem Graves -> Qwynn Vandale

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Mystery Core themes: Identity, love (DIFFERENT from romance), stress/pressure

Array of Cicadas: Cryptadia is the second installment of AoC, taking place at the same time as the first. Akira disappears from the small Coloradian town of Adderdeen, kicking off a series of events that binds three of the town's most extraordinary people together to solve an interdimensional mystery. Serendipity is a teenage vampire who's adoptive family sent her to Adderdeen to study under the renowned Master Alchemist James Emperor. Serendipity lives with a poorly understood condition that makes it difficult for her to use her own magic, therefore she had to give up the family trade of witchcraft to learn about a more external magic like Alchemy. She struggles best she can to keep up with her magical studies as well as her high school studies as a foreign exchange student at Adderdeen High School. After she's found out as a vampire by her classmate Qwynn, she gets roped into a whole new world of mystery. She just hope her grades don't suffer too much as a result. Salem is a local celebrity in Adderdeen as host of a popular local radio show he titled The Nightwatch, a show cracking down on local supernatural sightings. He also balances his job as a mortician on top of it as well as raising his teenage sister single-handedly.. all while not letting it slip he's West Virginia's Very Own Mothman! After an encounter with an old moth-like spirit and a chaotic interdimensional entity at 13, Salem has to deal with being a towering moth monster when he's not in his glamored human form. He also takes on the daunting task of keeping the supernatural hotspot of Adderdeen a simple tourist town without letting the truth of the supernatural slip up. Qwynn is a simple teenage girl with simple aspirations. She wants to keep up her honor student status, get a good scholarship, get into a good, local, college, and also help her parents with their Monster Hunting Gig. Daughter of a human mother and a werewolf father, Qwynn is the only of her three siblings to not inherit lycanthropy from her father, much to her annoyance. Without claws or fangs to take down some of Adderdeens more unnatural inhabitants, Qwynn has to improvise with quick and flashy magic and even faster blades. All for the good of a town that will ideally never know the service her family provides. She makes it a point to investigate any strange happenings in Adderdeen, so it doesn't take long for her to figure out her new classmate is secretly a vampire or that the mortician who works with her mom is Mothman.

Array of Cicadas: [REDACTED] Penumbra -> Aranea Weltgeist -> Izebel Lucifer Walpurgis

Genre: Fantasy, Sci-fi Core themes: Knowledge, war, hope

Not much I can say about this installment as it would spoil the mysteries I'm setting up for AoC and AoC:C. But I CAN say this third and final installment of this story sets up the final confrontation and brings all our previously introduced characters together. Penumbra is a force by which many things have come to an end. Two thousand years ago she was merely a scientist who aspired to know more about the world around her. Her drive to learn more was inevitably her downfall. Her lover and enemy, Kirke, would later go on to use her findings to create a curse meant to Destroy the Universe. Aranea is a teenage visionary Created by her Father Out of Love using Alchemy. Her father, Issac Weltgeist, was found and murdered by the Izebellian Empire for his reasearch as a Master Alchemist. As a homunculus herself, Aranea was kidnapped in case she hid any secrets of her fathers research. Quickly dismissed by Kirke as useless to the empire's research on homunculi, Aranea was told to watch after the child Empress Izebel, who was only a few years younger than Aranea herself. Aranea spent the next two years searching for a way to escape the empire. Her plans where put into motion early when she found they had acquired the legendary sword Excalibur. Stealing the sword, Aranea made her escape. Izebel is a bit more of a figurehead as Empress of the Izebellian Empire. She was created by the sorceress Kirke to be the vessel for her curse. While she is a living source of destruction, Izebel is treated with respect by her underlings. However, the only person to truly show her kindness, was Aranea. Izebel quickly took to viewing Aranea as an older sister, and demanded she be treated with the respect an Empress' sister deserved. She did her best to give Aranea everything she wanted to make her happy, but refused to let her leave. When Aranea finally escaped, she left Izebel confused, heartbroken, and enraged.

Mother of the Apocalypse Alexios -> Asterius Polaris -> Armageddon

Genre: Cyberpunk, Fantasy, Tragedy Core themes: Family, lies, perseverance

MotA has nothing to do with AoC, and is instead it's own independent world. It's a story about a prophecy told by the Goddess of Fate to her oracles. That entails the end of the world at the hands of the Mother of the Apocalypse, only able to be stopped by the Savior of the Rim. How this prophecy ends, is up to Fate. Alexios is the son of Kepus, the Goddess of Life and Death, and himself, the Savior of the Rim. He much despises his own title. All he did to earn it was stop a Colossus that was bent on the destruction of a Spire. Now he's wrapped up in probably the dozenth prophecy in a life that's lasted over a millennia. Problem with this prophecy is that it wants him to kill someone to save the world, and he put such violence behind him centuries ago. With his newly adopted child to take care of, Alexios can't think much on how he'll save the world while sparring it's vessel of destruction. Asterius is the son of Taphion, the God of the Crypt, and Septentria, the Northern Star. However he spent the first 13 years of his live believing himself a demigod who had a human mother he never hat the opportunity to meet. Once his true identity was revealed to him, as well as his role in the prophecy as the Beast of the Crypt, a monster born to stand as the guardian of the Mother of the Apocalypse, he ran. He landed in the care of a hero, who he would later discover was the very man destined to kill him, the Savior of the Rim. After Alexios became determined to find a way to break the "curse" on Asterius (a clever lie the kid fabricated so he didn't have to reveal to his would-be murderer who he really was), the man came to see Asterius as his own child. As much as Asterius loves his new father, he can never bring himself to tell him the truth. Armageddon is the titular Mother of the Apocalypse. Daughter of Ignarus, the God of Destruction, she is destined to raze civilization to the ground. Unfortunately for Ignarus, she would rather die than have any part in the Apocalypse he curated for her. When the Savior of the Rim does finally come for her, she and Alexios' mutual interest in stopping the Apocalypse though means different than Fate has offered draws them closer together. Armageddon comes to believe that maybe their love will prove stronger than Fate herself.

LIZ and the Biohazards Logan Griffiths -> Samantha Griffiths -> Miriam Riveria

Genre: Horror, Sci-fi Core themes: Rebellion, survival, girlhood

Oh man I would love to tell y'all ALLLL about this comic, but as I am literally working on the script rn, you'll have to wait and see for most of it. But MAINLY, it's a story about a teenage science experiment who grew up in a lab and decides to break free and experience all the world has to offer. (Previously titled Unchained Phenomena) Logan Griffiths is labeled by most of the people who know him as a crazy conspiracy theorist, but Logan knows what he's seen and what he's heard. His son was sent to war almost 18 years ago and never came back. The last letter he received from his son detailed the horrors he had seen on the front lines, saying he fought beside people who "weren't people anymore". Ever since Logan has worked to crack down on the government's experiments on humans, and expose what decades of propaganda and coverups have worked so hard to hide. One disaster strikes the government base he's spent a decade studying, and his answers are delivered right to him with one phone call from some friends. He just didn't expect them to come in the form of a young girl. S-072, or Sam, as she prefers to call herself now, was created in a government lab after the Bio War ended in an attempt to bolster Texas' defenses as it stands on the brink of independence. S-072 was designed for espionage, with the original intent being to create a human who could alter their physiology to mimic anyone. However, while she can indeed alter her physiology, the raw-looking flesh and bone she is able to warp and change isn't going to pass as anyone alive. After the initial failure, they found that S-072 was better suited for just slaughtering things. She could withstand bullet wounds after training, she could warp herself into her own weapons, and was overall the perfect killing machine. Too bad someone started putting ideas in her head. Miriam is a survivor of war. She wasn't a soldier, but she was a sister, and a daughter. Her hometown was hit with a biological weapon and she lost her family and was left sick, disabled, disfigured, and traumatized. She did her best to survive, but unable to work, living on fixed income wasn't cutting it. When the government offered her an experimental cure for her illness, she took it without reading the fine print. Subjected to many experiments, but never a real cure, Miriam plotted a way out.

THE MIXED BAG OF RANDOM GUYS! "Charlie" -> Caelum Ketch - Jinlong

Dream Journal: The Central Mind

Genre: Horror, Sci-fi Core themes: The unknown, death, grief

This story is from a dream I had that I've reworked to make a story that I'd love to make into a short comic someday. The basic idea of the dream (maybe nightmare) was there was a family that lived on an island who were studying an interdimensional entity. Shortly after they moved to this island, their daughter died. Something, someone else.. came back. "Charlie" is the name of the person who is distinctly NOT Charlotte to anyone who looks close enough. A fragmented piece of a much larger entity with the mind and memories of the late Charlotte, Charlie is just trying to solve the mystery of why her family keeps acting so strange around her.

Cache of Sybaris

Genre: Sci-fi Core themes: Idk man it's just fun Space Pirates babeyyyyyy

The Sybaris Galaxy celebrates the many rich cultures that exist within it, art and culture is a top priority of the Galactic Union! So when the entirety of the latest Trivlexian exhibit on the planet Nik is stolen by Captain Wretch and her band of pirates, it becomes a Galaxy wide chase to steal it back! Especially to other pirate crews who might never have the chance to catch a better score. Ketch is one of such pirates who's crew is after Captain Wretch and her recently stolen goods. While most are after the art that was in the exhibit, the crew of the Red Death is much more interested in the Trivlexian technological artifacts. Namely because Ketch, the crew's finest mechanic, is Trivlex himself. Ketch knows well enough that anyone who isn't rich enough to be able to conveniently ignore is knows all Trivlexian artifacts are stolen, but he has no noble ambitions for his people's artifacts. He just wants to make better weapons and improve his crew's ships. Regardless of how many bounties it gets on his head in the process.

Shifting Stars and Moving Mountains

Genre: Fantasy Core themes: Grief, change, culture

SS+MM is a story that takes place in the same universe as Array of Cicadas, but remains mostly disconnected from the main story. It follows the dragons of Genesis, their politics, culture, and how they influence the rest of the realm. Jinlong is a young dragon, just a few decades over 500, who grew up during the Great Dragon Hunts. Jinlong lost both of his parents in the hunts, he survived the only way he could in such a time of hostility towards dragons, he lived as a human. A human family took him in and treated him as their own. Jinlong spent so long as a human he slowly lost touch of what it meant to be a dragon. After his youngest human sister died at the EXTREMELY impressive age of 200, Jinlong was taken in by Sage Ragnormr, an ancient dragon who advised him to rest. And rest he did, for 2000 years, Jinlong slept, regaining the strength he expended from holding his body in human form for so long. He awakes in the modern era, things have changed drastically, and this little dragon needs to learn what it really means to be a dragon again.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I have 400+ other ocs that I won't cover on this post, but if anyone is ever curious about my silly little guys, there's nothing in the WORLD that brings me more joy than getting to talk about them with other people :)

#asks #ophidian lore #array of cicadas #array of cicadas: cryptadia #mother of the apocalypse #liz and the biohazards #unchained phenomena #dream journal #cache of sybaris #shifting stars and moving mountains

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applepiesupreme · 5 months ago

Text

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/147629797

Chapter 26

The next morning she woke up with him flush against her back, legs and arms tangled with hers. It reminded her of the cat in one of the orphanages who wouldn’t let anyone pet him but who had the habit of seeking out and snuggling in bed with whoever disliked him the most after they fell asleep. She tried to untangle herself slowly but he woke up and moved away. She stumbled out of bed, waved his attempts to help away and dressed herself. He dressed up as well, jaw set, shoulders rigid with determination. When she took her satchel and turned to leave the tent, she found him holding the flap open for her. She hesitated with surprise, then walked out and, to her chagrin, he followed.

He started to saddle up Frost and she was too curious not to ask: “Where are you going?”

“Gonna ride to Saint Denis. I’ll drop you off.”

She froze, her plans of spending another day groveling in anger and self pity spoiled. “I’m not in a hurry,” she cleared her throat. “You go ahead.”

“I ain’t pressed on time,” he said, throwing her a look. “We ride together.”

Jesus, was there ever a man as stubborn as Arthur Morgan? He had given her plenty of time and distance when she had been struggling after his recovery, but now he clung to her like a tick, unwilling to let her drift out further than she already had. She climbed up her saddle and rode out with him, furiously thinking of how to navigate her way out of this predicament. They made it halfway to Saint Denis before she was finally convinced that she couldn’t shake him off and slowed Cricket to a halt. “I’m not going to work,” she admitted sheepishly. “I have the rest of the week off.”

His eyebrows rose as he turned Frost around and guided him to step closer. “That so?” he drawled, with complete lack of surprise. “Where was ya goin’ then?”

She shrugged. “Wherever I want, I guess. Go to your business.”

He gave her an intense look, swaying on his horse. “It can wait.”

“Maybe go back to camp,” she countered, irked by his stubbornness. “Gang might need you. Or Abigail.”

His face tightened but he didn’t move otherwise. “‘M right where I wanna be.” he said, eyes hard.

“You know, you used to be a lot easier to irritate,” she observed. The Arthur who had joined her on the shooting range that first time probably would have backhanded her and trotted off by now.

“Grew tougher skin I guess. Seein’ you have some claws on ya.” He urged his horse to come closer still, then crossed his elbows on the pommel.

“Wanna go fishin’?”

“Wouldn’t want to waste your precious ti-”

“I know a spot.”

She pursed her lips, looking into the distance.

“Think you’ll like it,” he pressed.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, eyes following the horizon line. “And I don’t have my pole with me.”

“I got yer pole,” he said, dismissively brushing over the fact that he had, God knows how, suspected all along that she wasn’t going to work. “And…" he continued with a more serious tone, "Got things to say.”

She sighed. “What kind of things?”

“Important things,” he said gravely.

She had to admit, there was something compelling about the way he said it, eyes locked to hers, face grim. She was a little intrigued and it was pretty clear that she wasn’t going to get rid of him, so she sighed “Okay I guess,” and motioned for him to lead the way.

They rode towards Saint Denis but instead of continuing into town he turned Frost north, towards the Bayou and Savigne followed, her intrigue intensifying. She swiveled around on the saddle, trying to take it all in. This was wild country, a place she hadn’t dared to come to alone before. She gaped at the tall trees, covered in moss, listened attentively to the unfamiliar sounds of croaking and hooting and growling. It was eerily empty and they barely ran into anyone, riding for long minutes to the clop of their own horses.

“Wanna talk about why,” he said suddenly and broke her out of her stupor.

“Why?”

“Why Abigail happened.”

She straightened on her saddle. “I’m not sure I want to kn-”

“Ya need to know. Meant to tell you before…just was never a good time.” His discomfort made her curious, so she swallowed her protests and urged Cricket to be abreast with Frost. The horses slowed down to a mere walk and he was quiet for several minutes, but she knew he liked to take his time and didn’t intervene.

“I know gang loves t'talk,” he sighed, “‘M sure they told ya ‘bout me and Mary.”

“I heard some things,” she said, carefully. It wasn’t a topic she had expected him to breach.

”We was engaged,” he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “Long time ago now. Didn’ work out.”

The opportunity was too good to pass. “Why?”

He blew out some smoke, thoughtful as if he was debating the question in his head. “Wasn’ just one thing. Her daddy didn’ think me good enough, that’s one. She wan’ed me to leave the life, that’s ‘nother.”

It only confirmed what she had darkly suspected - that he hadn’t left the gang for Mary and the odds of him doing that for her seemed more dismal than ever. He was always going to say no, she thought, feeling a little vindicated but also a whole lot sadder for it.

”You could have,” she mumbled before she could stop herself. “Leave the gang, I mean.”

He took a deep breath. She knew he wasn’t much of a talker when it came to private matters, but as uncomfortable as he looked, today he seemed determined to make an exception. “She wan’ed me to leave my family, my trade. That’s fair,” he explained. “But she wasn’ gonna do the same.” He shot her a glance. “Wan’ed to marry Mary, true. But didn’ wanna be a penniless toy for her father to push around. She couldn’ see it. Wouldn’ see it.” He smirked. “Don’ matter.”

She tried to read his demeanor. There was regret there, no doubt, but she was surprised to also find resolve. Arthur was a proud man and the scenario he described would have been difficult for someone like him. But she could also understand Mary - hell, she practically was Mary right now, wasn’t she?

“Point bein’, she moved on,” he cleared his throat. “Married some fool and I was real broken up ‘bout it.” He smoked casually for a few moments. “Did what I always do - drank m’self stupid. Was a night, I did just that and met a girl. Eliza.”

He gave her a flick of the eyes. “She was a waitress. After the saloon closed we…fooled around.” He ran a palm over his beard, uncomfortable about the disclosure but stubbornly pushed on: “Left the next morning and didn’ think ‘bout her again. Few months later when I was back in town, she told me she was with child.” Her head whipped around to him with disbelief. He gave her a tired nod. “Yeah. Wasn’ happy bout it. Wasn’ ready for any of that, didn’ want the kid, didn’ want her. She was sweet enough but was just a fling to me, didn’ want more.” He swayed on Frost, one hand holding the cigarette, the other loosely on the reins.

“She had the baby, a boy. Named him Isaac.” He looked at her incredulous face, then away, smoking. “Wasn’ happy but tried to step up. Went every few months to see how they was doin’ and drop a couple dollars.” He blew out the smoke and grew silent for a few minutes. “Me and her wasn’ well matched and it got only worse from there. Towards the end, she used to look at me like I was the devil. But Isaac was a sweet boy and him I grew to love. He was shy and quiet. I ‘member wonderin’ who he got that from,” he mused, eyes hazy with memory. “I was a chatty fool back then and Eliza was anythin’ but quiet,” he snorted bitterly.

He smoked the cigarette to the stub and threw it away. “Few years passed. My next visit, they was gone. Didn’ own much but whatever they had was gone to the bone. Thought they moved. Eliza was angry I wasn’ doing’ more, thought she had enough, packed up and left. Was angry at first.”

He sighed. “But then I found two graves in the back.” She tried not to but couldn’t help gaping at him with disbelief. He grimaced ahead, refusing to look at her. “They was robbed and killed over ten dollars,” he finished and there was something in his tone she had never heard before.

“God,” she whispered after a long silence, stunned. “I’m so sorry Arthur.”

He nodded in acceptance and maneuvered Frost to trot ahead. She respectfully drew back a little and followed him. So much loss. Loss of his parents. Loss of Mary. Loss of a son. Loss of friends - violent and sudden in most cases. But beyond that, also loss of a childhood. And his whole adult life a loss to crime. She wondered what made Arthur keep going because she would be a weeping mess on the floor if that was her. She had lost her parents, true, but she had been so young, one could argue it wasn’t a true loss, because she couldn’t remember what having parents even felt like. And after that she had always kept a careful distance with people, reluctant in forming bonds. Losing a child was something she couldn’t even comprehend.

Why it had never crossed her mind as a possibility was a mystery. In light of this disclosure everything made a lot more sense. His gentleness towards Jack. His weak spot for Abigail whenever she came running with a request. She knew it was unfair to herself but couldn't help a feeling of inadequacy germinating in her chest. When Sister Rodriguez had told her that she would never have children of her own, Savigne had been merely a girl, so it hadn't bothered her in the least. And afterwards for a long time she had felt liberated by it - one more thing she didn't have to worry about. Now, always eager for self-depreciation, she wondered if this made her...lacking in Arthur's eyes. She rode behind him, watching his broad back and tried to muffle her merciless inner voice.

“Was my fault of course,” he picked up the thread many minutes later, voice harder. He slowed down Frost to fall abreast with Cricket again. “Young woman and a child defenseless like that, course it was gonna happen. But I was too taken with being an outlaw, being with the gang. After Mary, maybe more than before. Told myself it was fine to leave them. Was all bullshit.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze wandering the surrounding bayou. "Sometimes I think on it, try to ‘member it properly. Don’ think I can, no more. Can’t think of the good moments without thinkin’ of what followed. It’s all…tainted.”

He looked at her for the first time in a long while. “It ruined me, Savigne,” he said softly. “The guilt. Murdered a young woman, killed m’own child because I wan’ed to play outlaw. Ain’t no forgiveness for that,” he managed to choke out. “I was…sick...for a long time. Drunk for a year. Somethin’ died in me and never grew back." A pause and a sigh after: "That’s when Abigail happened.”

She swallowed and looked away.

“She was in camp few months, she wan'ed the money, I wan'ed t'forget, thought 'what’s the harm?'. If I knew she was gonna stick 'round, retire and be with Marston, would have never touched her. Even I ain’t that dumb.”

“I see.” she nodded with pressed lips.

“Meant to tell ya. Wan’ed to. But…didn’.” he finished lamely.

“Why?” was her careful question.

A long while passed. Just when she thought that he wasn’t going to answer, he said “Honest? Told ya I was a bad man. Many times. Even showed ya. But you never treated me like one.” There was a rough shrug of the shoulders. “Think I grew to like that more than I care to admit. Didn’ wanna lose it.”

The shame that was coming off of him was searing, intense. The notion that he put so much value in her opinion of him touched her in a way she couldn't explain. It was like noticing a vulnerability, a weak point in his armor she hadn’t expected to find and it made her feel irrationally protective of him.

“Listen here,” he cleared his throat. “I feel nothin’ for Abigail that way. But you was right when you said I played family. I did,” he shrugged. “Wasn’ all pure. Sometimes I did it to ease m'own mind. Sometimes to piss off Marston. But, I never stepped down and I should ‘ave. I’m stepping down now. It’s done. I like Abigail. But you’re my woman,” he said with an intense look. “Ya believe me?”

The jealousy was still there, refusing to dissipate. But she couldn’t deny that Luther’s opinion had wormed its way into her brain and Arthur’s explanation was hard to ignore. “Yeah,” she admitted begrudgingly.

He nodded, satisfied and rolled his shoulders.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

When they arrived at a ramshackle town, Arthur dismounted to buy bait from an old lady fanning herself in a rocking chair on her porch. She glided off Cricket, fascinated by this new location and strolled up her steps to walk around her shack. It overlooked a lake and she leaned on the railing to watch it as he did his shopping. It was hot and stifling here, barely anything moved. The air was thick and heavy, every breath felt like breathing underwater. She timidly watched the gators floating in the lake and listened to the cawing and the hooting and the croaking. After the bustling of Saint Denis, it felt remarkably hushed. He came to stand next to her, mirroring her and fishing for another cigarette. There was a silence between them but it it wasn't hostile or awkward for what felt like a long time.

“Savigne," he exhaled smoke after a while, squinting out to the lake. "Ain't gonna let you go live in a cabin alone. Can’t do it. Won’ do it.”

Somehow, the real reason for his resistance made it worse because now she understood it for what it was - a hard border he wouldn't entertain crossing under any circumstances.

“I understand. But…”

“Gimme few months,” he interjected, still gazing out to the water, his face unreadable.

She watched his profile for a while. “What happens in a few months?”

He played with his cigarette for a moment before he finally turned to give her a long look. “We leave together.”

The expression on her face must have been profound because he added a self-conscious mutter of “Ain’t the worst idea”, before he focused on scraping the mud off his soles on the edge of the veranda planks.

“No, it’s just…you never said anything,” she stammered when she found her voice again.

His lips bowed. “Ya never asked,” was the simple response.

“I’ve been blabbering about a cabin for months," was her incredulous objection. "Since we met, even. You never said you’re interested.”

“Never heard a ‘we’ when ya talk bout that.”

“Well…I didn’t want to…” His eyebrows rose as she searched for the right word. “…presume.”

“So ya presumed I wouldn’?”

She huffed a cough of laughter.

“Lemme guess,” he said, glancing at her. “Ya presumed I was…” he scratched his beard as he searched his memory. “…a ‘deceptive man, stringin' you along’ - that it?”

This up close, he felt magnetic, like he had his own gravitational field and she was in it, sizzling with the pull of it. It still surprised her, how casually handsome Arthur was. And how little he seemed to notice it himself. He made next to no effort to dress up or groom himself, often seemed oblivious to the entire concept of self care, more focused on caring for his guns or keeping his journal clean than he was of his own person. But somehow he always looked splendid. He kept his hair longer now, knowing she liked it and summer had stripped it into a pale gold. His skin was shades darker from when she had first seen him, giving his pallor a healthy glow. He was bigger somehow, no doubt filling up thanks to his voracious appetite and the dinners she was cooking him, but it all seemed to go to the right places on him and never the places it went on her - his waist was still trim, his stomach flat, but his shoulders larger, rounder as he leaned over the railing.

“What about the gang?” She said after a while, trying to break out of her stupor. The temptation to pinch herself was overwhelming.

He grimaced to the distance. “Done that all m’life,” he sighed before he gave her a long look. “Wanna do somethin’ else now.” Then a hitch of the shoulders, a subtle grin sent her way: “‘Sides…ya make good lazan ya...Think it could work.”

Two days ago she was certain there was no point in asking the question. Hell, an hour ago she had been sure he was never going to agree. And now he suggested it - unprompted- as easily and naturally as asking her for a date. She felt as if struck by lightning. It was inconceivable.

Maybe, she thought then, there is something to be said for being in the right place at the right time. For arriving at the back end of mistakes and regrets and meeting a man when he is older, wiser. A man who had come to grips with the fact that he won’t live forever and wary of repeating the same blunders.

"I don’t know," she stalled to gather her wits. Her heart was beating in her ears and it took everything to make her voice not quiver. "We fight a lot."

"We don' fight," he scratched his beard. "A lot," he added, probably taking the last few days into consideration. "Would be less if ya listened to yer man, tell ya that."

It was said playfully, with no menace and so was her scoff in response.

There were inches between them but neither made the attempt to close the distance as they stared out across the water. It felt bizarre to talk about something so momentous as if they were talking about what to have for dinner, but here they were. With her previous partners, Savigne had always been the odd one, the weird one, the awkward one. Now that she was matched with someone who was awkward in his own way, sometimes that meant doing this strange dance where they both played down big things to find a way to talk around them.

”Worked fine for me,” he said a long moment later. “This past summer.” He gave her a flick of the eyes. “You?”

She felt breathless, dizzy. But managed an answer: “Worked for me, too.”

He nodded at that. Sometimes Arthur had a certain shyness about him that she found quite endearing. It was rare and rarer still as he grew more comfortable around her, but not completely gone. He was the picture of male confidence, cocky and self-assured. Often he was extremely bold with her and enjoyed dominating her and she was the one who blushed and squirmed. But every now and then he had the vulnerability of a young boy he couldn’t quite mask well enough or maybe didn’t try to.

“Could be boring,” she tried to alleviate the awkwardness. "Life without the gang."

He clicked his tongue and looked away again. “‘M okay with boring.”

“What if you miss the action?”

“Ain’t gonna miss gettin’ shot at,” was his dismissive reply.

”What if you miss your friends?”

”Guess ‘m gonna have to make new friends.”

“What if…”

”All that don’ matter none,” he said gently, steering her away from her spiraling.

“Why do you need this time?” she asked at last, more somber.

“Dutch took me in at fourteen,” he said, squinting into the bright day. “Never been to school. Never learned a trade. This here the only thing I know. Ain’t nothin’ to be proud of,” he grimaced, watching a flock of cranes glide in to settle on the lake. “But it’s what I got.” A hardness crept into his voice when he continued: “Put my life in this. My best years. Gave up a lot for it.” The look in his eyes when he glanced her way was brimming with determination. “Ain’t walkin’ away broke to leave it all to Dutch.”

“But…I have money, too,” she tried.

He shook his head. “‘M a man,” he rolled his shoulders. “Gotta bring somethin’ to the table.” She knew that, of course. She was proud, but so was he. He wasn't going to show up empty handed, it went against his whole code, his identity. Even if it didn't matter to her, it mattered a whole lot to him.

“This last week has been tough. Risky. Draining. Months of that…is…a lot.”

He ran a palm over his beard, eyes flicking to her for a moment as he threw his cigarette butt into the lake. “I let Dutch talk me into shit I shouln’ have. Won’ happen again.”

She took a deep breath, trying to find a gentle way of voicing her doubts.

“Savigne," he said softly and turned to lean his elbow on the railing, facing her. “Stay with me.” He hesitated for a moment, but then his right palm came to rest lightly on her lower back and when she didn't move away, remained, more confident. His eyes were steady, earnest and clear, trying to convey his sincerity. "I will do right by you. Couple o’months. All I’m askin’.”

“And if you still don’t have what you need in a couple of months?”

He pressed his lips. “Then we get the cabin. Together.”

There was a long silence and he waited patiently while she pretended to debate it in her head, even though there really was no debate. Just like there never had been a debate when she had left the orphanage. Or when she had decided to cook for a living. Trepidation, sure. Some hesitation, some strife. But never enough to warrant a debate. She loved him profoundly, but that seemed almost secondary. Truth was, without the gang, he was perfect. Not perfect as in flawless, but perfect as in fitting - his corners and bends aligned with hers. Maybe it would work out or maybe, as soon as they were alone with each other, it would fall apart. But a couple of months seemed like a small price to pay to find out.

“Okay,” she whispered finally.

He dipped his head and nodded, his hat momentarily hiding his face from her. When he raised it again, she surprised him by grabbing his shirt to pull him down and crush her lips against his. A moment later he responded with matching fervor, lips latching to hers, aggressive and unapologetic. His hand on her lower back jerked her towards himself and she rose on her toes to snake her arms around his neck, kissing him with fervent need. He pushed her against the railing, his tongue hot and eager, seeking entrance and she moaned lowly with the eruption of excitement in her gut.

”You kids better be doin’ nothin’ unchristian back there,” came the shout from around the corner.

They flinched apart like teenagers. “No ma’am,” Arthur managed after a moment, his hand gliding lower to fondle her buttocks, eyes set on her like they meant to burn a hole through her as he tilted his head to capture her lips again.

“Good, cause this here is the Lord’s house,” was her follow up.

Savigne pulled back, wrestling to get her emotions under control, but he was unwilling to let go. He leaned in, placing his forehead on hers, pulling her closer still, flattening her against himself.

”Just admirin’ the view,” he called back, chasing her lips.

”’Mire it from somewhere else!” was the sharp rebuke.

She grinned and detached herself from his reluctant arms, stepping back and slapping his hands away.

”Thank you for the bait,” she called, trying to detach his palm from her buttocks. “Let go,” she whispered to him, half amused, half embarrassed.

“Wan’ me to knock her out cold?” he breathed, his other hand bunching up her skirt.

She bit her lip to stifle her burst of laughter and pushed against his chest. “What happened to going fishing?”

”Made me forget all ‘bout that, didn’ ya?” he smirked, still trying to get under her skirt.

”Well I’m reminding you then,” she growled, battling his hands.

He sighed and adjusted his hat, gave her look and turned around. “Fine,” he said, somewhat grouchy and held out a hand behind his back. She took it and followed him around to the front. She colored a little at the stinky eye the old woman was giving them.

Arthur touched the rim of his hat with a “Ma’am,” and walked towards the horses, unperturbed. The spring in his step was unmistakable and she grinned, feeling like she was walking on air.

He clicked his tongue as he set out. "What happened to that guy anyway?"

"What guy?”

"Deceptive man in the book."

She urged Cricket to follow as they left the town and headed further north. "He married the girl."

"Thought he was married.”

"His wife died in a fire."

"Ya don’ say,” he said with audible amusement over his shoulder.

"Wasn’t his doing, she was mad and started the fire," she explained.

His hum indicated strong doubt as he urged Frost into a trot. They took several turns into side paths, going deeper into the Bayou. It was dim and hushed here, the hoof beat of their horses muffled. Finally he stopped and dismounted and she followed suit. He took Frost’s reins and pulled out a gun, continuing on foot. She followed, trying to stay close. The shot made her jump. Something slithered into the water ahead and her skin crawled.

“Uh…this seems…a little…inconvenient for fishing,” she stammered.

He grinned but didn’t answer and moved on. Another shot, plucking dirt by a sun tanning gator sent it ambling off as they came to a clearing at the edge of stagnant, murky water. He glanced around and once satisfied, went to his saddle to unpack the fishing rods and handed hers over as she pulled Cricket closer to the clearing, away from the underbrush. He gave her some bait, then hooked his and swung it far into the water.

“Two outta three wins,” he said.

“What!?” she froze. “Wins what?”

He shrugged. “Whatever,” he said with a smile on his lips.

“You should have said that,” she sputtered, hastily preparing her rod. “It’s unfair to start early.”

He hummed in amusement. “Life ain’t fair.”

She came to stand next to him, hooked her bait and swung out her bobber. Afterwards she took a nervous look around and inched closer to him because every log and mound of mud looked like a gator. Not too long later he grunted and started to reel in. She watched, fascinated as he pulled out a respectable size of a gar. It fiercely slithered on the mud. He grabbed it and hit the head with the butt of his gun and it went slack. He threw it back towards the horses.

“Ain’t got no luck today huh?” he mused as he prepared his rod.

“You started early,” she hissed, “So that one doesn’t count.”

“Ya know what,” he sighed as his sinker strummed and flew over the water, “‘M in a generous mood. We start now.”

She squared her feet, pleased. They didn’t talk for a while.

“Nice day,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Haven't done much together lately,” he drawled, watching the water. “Missed it.”

She concentrated on the reverberations on her pole that never came. “A lot going on,” was her distracted mumble.

He smirked into the distance. “Don’t make it right,” he said a while later. “Life’s short. Can end any day.” His broad shoulders hitched. “Should make time for things that matter.”

A comfortable silence set in between them as she dared to think of the unimaginable: life with Arthur without the gang. Just the two of them. Waking up together every day, without distractions, without worries of harm, without Dutch and Micah and the rest of it. She couldn’t remember ever being this happy, she felt breathless with the force of it.

Suddenly a buzz from his angler and she gaped as he reeled in another, smaller gar. He fought it into the mud, then carefully unhooked it to throw it back in. “That’s one,” his eyes flicked at her with amusement. She harrumphed and reeled her bait in. It was still there. He chuckled when he saw it. “Thought ya was good at this?”

She made a face at him, hooked up fresh bait and swung it out. A few minutes passed. He made a noise and she protested “No way!” as he reeled in his line but thankfully the next fish escaped the hook before he could get it to the bank. She grinned at that and fervently wished for her pole to tremble, but it remained stiff and calm in her hands. She groaned when his bobber flew out again.

“So this cabin,” he said, scratching his beard. “What’s it like?”

“Don’t know,” she grinned shyly.

“Ya must have somethin’ in mind.”

“I mostly pictured the kitchen.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. Huge kitchen. Windows everywhere. Ice box. Oven. Hearth. And a running sink.” she mused.

“Sounds nice,” he said. Then: “Gotta have a tub. Big enough for two.”

She clicked her tongue. “Of course that’s where your head goes.”

“Sturdy table,” he said casually, adjusting his hat and giving her a side-eye. “Lots of counter space in the kitchen…”

She shook her head and ignored him, he was most certainly trying to make her blush.

He seemed to take her composure as a challenge: “But ya know what we really need?”

“I’m afraid to ask” was her dry response.

“One o’them headboards.”

“A headboard?”

“Gotta be solid.” he nodded seriously. “Won’t break when I grab it.” He was visibly pleased when her color started to rise. “No neighbors, won’ have to mind the bangin’.”

“Jesus,” she managed just when his line started to sing, promising a big haul.

“The hell?” she protested, watching with dismay and frustration.

He grinned at her expression and continued, fighting inch by inch until a massive longnose flopped into view. He chuckled as she swiped at his pole, trying to make him drop it and shouldered her away. “Hey now,” he laughed.

“Life ain’t fair,” she hissed and tried to stab fingers into his ribs. He chortled loudly but it was more at her desperation, not the finger stabbing and lifted the pole away from her reach, still reeling.

“Three out of five!” she yelled as the fish was merely ten feet away.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “Think I’m good.”

“Damn it! I bet you cheated!”

He smirked in her direction, fighting the gar. “Sounds like loser talk t’me.”

She swiped at his shoulders.

“Watch the hat,” he laughed. “I drop that, ya wading in t’get it.” That cowed her and she gave up with a click of the tongue.

She stepped away from the flopping, coiling monster that he somehow managed to pull back to the muddy bank. He delivered a single, heavy thud on the head and the animal went slack. He grunted, pleased, threw it next to the other one and dropped to his haunches to wash off his hands. She gathered her line and folded her angler, annoyed, ignoring his amusement at her expression. They stuffed their poles into the saddles but he halted her after with a light grip on the arm.

“I won,” he grinned at her scowl.

“Yeah, I saw,” she huffed and made to take the reins, but his grip tightened.

“Ain’t ya forgetting something?” She cocked an eyebrow. “My reward?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, what do you want?”

He hung his hat on the pommel of the saddle and stepped closer. The mood shifted so suddenly, she was unprepared for it. She blinked when his hand cupped her face. “How ‘bout,” he drawled, inching closer still to loom over her, “a kiss?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed coyly, “That’s quite an ask.” His other hand cupped her other cheek and forced her to look up at him.

“What I want,” he said, eyes momentarily dropping to her lips. “Earned it.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” she whispered, “But a promise is a promise.” She threw her arms around his neck, rising on her toes to kiss him, long and deep. His left hand gripped her waist, pulling her against himself as he cupped her head with his other hand, kissing her back, first gentle and tender, then with more vigor. His tongue gliding over her lower lip, behind it, brushing her teeth, then moving back up, suckling harder, massaging her upper lip. He tilted his head further and his kiss became firmer, bigger. The fingers in her hair gently closing as he tilted his head the other way to kiss her again, bolder, more demanding. Dreamily she felt herself walked back until her back hit a tree, mesmerized by the taste of him. Standing on the mound around the tree, she found that she was eye level with him for once. He kissed her harder, a hand dropping to her throat to push her face up as he covered her body with his.

“Ya sore cause you lost?” he murmured against her lips, the hand on her waist impatiently throwing her skirt out of the way to cup her over her bloomers.

“Yeah,” was her shudder of an exhale when his fingers deftly began to massage her. She squirmed against him, moaning helplessly as he left a trail of wet kisses along her neck and suckled her earlobe.

A hot puff of “Too bad” as his lips closed on her neck, gently suckling, puckering her skin.

She moaned with the sensation, head swimming, gasping against his neck as she inhaled his scent of sweat, horse and cigarette, and bit her lower lip when that familiar coil strummed in her gut. Something splashed in the water and she opened her mouth to voice her concerns but his lips instantly took the invitation and crushed her words into meaningless muffles. His hand cupping her below pressed in, fingers moving slowly and she let out a shudder of air through her nose. He came up for air and looked at her, eyes blazing with arousal. He watched her as he massaged her over the thin fabric and she trembled as if it was some sort of witchcraft, undoing her, her hips grinding against him. A wetness erupted in her as her folds undulated at the thought of him in her, closing on nothing. His lips hovered over hers, fingers ruining her bloomers, teasing.

His hand on her neck glided around and shackled the back of her neck as he dipped in again, unapologetic, forceful, parting her lips brutishly, tongue diving in to assert his claim. She didn’t fight him, opening the gates willingly and stepping aside to let him do as he pleased, to take what he wanted. The hands then snaked under her skirt and tugged her bloomers down before his fingers zeroed in to what they were seeking with easy precision. The wetness he found there dilated his pupils. She twitched against him and he grunted lustily, digits gliding over her sticky wetness. He crushed her lips again as she squirmed and stumbled to step out her bloomers, then hastily swiped his suspenders of his shoulders. But when she reached for the buttons of his trousers he slapped her hand away and stepped a little back.

”Asked for a kiss,” he smiled, dropping to his knees in front of her, heedless of the mud, “Didn’ say where, did I?”

Her skirts were thrown out of the way and she gasped as he roughly shouldered her legs apart and hands palmed her buttocks to jerk her closer. A moment later, his hot mouth on her folds, making her jump. By God, what a kiss it was! She whimpered his name, squirming against his hold, hands gripping his shoulders, feeling herself unravel with every stroke of his tongue. He threw one leg over his shoulder and she whined as she was exposed to him completely and he hummed with appreciation, diving in with more gusto, shamelessly lapping at her wetness.

Her back arched and her head thumped against he tree, a peal of heavy moans falling from her lips, her fingers desperately clawing into his shoulders. His merciless lips parting her without hesitation, his tongue entering her to make her scream his name, then withdrawing to drive closer and closer circles to the center of her pleasure, her bud that was pulsing with white hot need. She writhed above him, torn between wanting to withdraw to prolong the pleasure and wanting to intensify it to its peak. She found herself saying things she never even imagined thinking, a cascade of adulation for him, whispered with religious reverence. Then his lips closed on her bud and she shuddered, bucking against him helplessly as she screamed his name into the stillness of the bayou.

She was still panting hard when he rose to kiss her, sharing her taste with her. “I like the way you sing, little bird,” he mumbled against her lips as he grasped her waist to hold her upright while she swayed on trembling legs. He pressed her against the tree and kissed her again, slower and gentler, dipping to her neck and shoulders, allowing her to recover her breath. Hands gliding on her chest and hips, cupping her face and kissing her again before suckling her neck. His hardness against her stomach grinding against her as he grunted with the pleasure of the friction.

Minutes passed before he unbuttoned his trousers and took himself at hand, stroking and coating himself with his precum. Then he roughly pulled up her left thigh and guided himself into her, pushing slowly until his pelvis was flush against her. He guided her leg to hook his waist before he palmed her buttocks for support and braced himself against the tree with his other hand. He watched her face as he slowly pulled out and rocked back in, filling her completely. She moaned at the sensation and couldn’t look away from his eyes as he repeated the motion, slowly but firmly.

He worried her lips and watched her start panting again as he languidly bucked into her. Her eyes fluttered as a wave of heat started building in her and she whimpered and squirmed under his heavy gaze. He breathed into her mouth and licked her lips as he increased his tempo. She snaked an arm around his neck, gasping and moaning helplessly at the renewed buildup of pleasure.

Her other hand dropped to his exposed buttocks, clenching at the firm muscle as if to push him deeper as he grunted, setting a harsh rhythm. In a haze, she wondered when they had sex last because despite knowing that it couldn’t have been long at all, she felt famished for it. The same hunger was reflected in his impatient groping, the unceasing assault of his lips, his sloppy bucking.

He whispered praises against her ear as her muscles tensed, trying to enhance the impact of his thrusting. Her leg folded on him, desperate to keep him closer still. He shuddered at her peal of moans, fighting to prolong a losing battle, fucking her into the tree with more and more zeal as she squirmed, trying to find purchase so he can hit her right there. He kissed her throat, then suckled it feverish as his hips slapped into her, jerking her upwards with every thrust, his big hand cupping her buttock to keep her in place as he chased her pleasure.

“Gonna make ya sing again,” he growled and deftly angled her with the expertise of someone who knew her body better than herself and when his cock bruised a spot inside her, she choked out a lusty whimper. He moaned in response and did it again and again and again when suddenly the coil sprang open in her and she clawed at his shoulders, helplessly releasing a silent scream to the sky, spasming with her orgasm, nails digging into his pistoning buttocks. He rocked into her a few more times before he joined her, a shaky, deep rumble traveling through his chest and pluming on her neck.

Her head hit the tree with a thud and her eyelids fluttered as blood started lazily pumping back into her brain. He dropped her leg and embraced her flush against his chest as if he meant to bury her into himself. They panted, trying to draw breath in the soupy air of the swamp, sweat springing from every pore. She felt warm rivulets racing down her thighs and focused on lightening her talon hold on his buttocks, gently caressing over the marks of her nails in his skin.

“You cheated…didn’t you?” she gasped, distantly amused that this was the first thing her working brain managed to spit out.

His nod against her neck would have outraged her if not for her lightheaded exhaustion. “Gave ya…wrong…bait,” he huffed.

“I fucking…hate you,” she said weakly and he chuckled, breathless.

He pulled back a little to look at her and she gazed back, enjoying the even eye level. His thumb brushed her lower lip, his eyes dancing with something she was too dazed to read.

“Savigne,” he sighed with that particular lilt of his that always made her name sound so exotic and special. “Tell me what you want. What you really want.”

Words she couldn’t make sense of but somehow understood anyway. ‘What’s in your secret heart?’ he meant, ‘Unlock it and let me see’.

She parted her lips, unsure what would fall out.

“I want you to be my family,” she whispered a while later, hypnotized by the shade of blue of his eyes.

He looked at her a long time, hushed and surprised, perhaps just as surprised as she felt at her own uttering.

Then he leaned in to gently graze his lips over hers.

“I accept,” he sighed before he kissed her again.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fluff #low honor arthur morgan #mid honor arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fluff #smut #fanfic #dom arthur morgan

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awkwardpariah · 2 years ago

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--Timeline--

Fortress Florida Falls: After a year of blockades, limited air strikes, and supply drops to partisans and loyalist units behind the lines, Federal forces finally launch the combined air, land, and amphibious invasion of Florida. No state had a higher concentration of NDF troops or better equipment. Casualties on both sides were high, and the MAGA government was able to exfiltrate itself from Palm Beach before Federal troops reached the provisional capital of the pretender government.

Winter 2029-2030: Nothing is more deadly than logistics, and during the Winter of 2029-30 more people died from fuel and food shortages than any other cause. In the highly contested Midwest fuel supplies had dried up and overland transportation had evaporated, leaving people behind the lines without food and heat during the Polar Vortex of '29. Those that didn't flee stayed behind thinking they'd live comfortably on generators and canned goods left behind by their panicky neighbors. Power plants died within the first few weeks, and generators ran out of gas not long after. Food supplies in the contested zones lasted only until January, by which point temperatures in Ohio had dropped to as low as -90 degrees F with the windchill. People were burning garbage to stay warm, eating dogs, cats, and rodents to stave off starvation. Most people who died froze to death in the night, others froze trying to flee on foot, and the few that were left were too cold and too sick to last much beyond that. Both sides attempted to keep the region supplied between the Continental Air Lift by the Dems, and rail and truck supplies by the Reps, but after a month of losing troops to frostbite and small skirmishes, the Dems pulled back to the I-80 corridor. The Reps continued probing attacks and roadside bombs along I-80 for much of the winter, but by February most of their troops had withdrawn over the Ohio River into Kentucky. So when the snow melted in Spring 2030, and the 1st Army began its long awaited march into Southern Ohio, all they found miles and miles of abandoned suburbs full of rat gnawed corpses

The War Against Humanity: By spring 2030, US troops from Army Group West began pushing into West Texas, while the 1st Army continued its advance into the South. Everywhere they went, they found evidence of crimes against humanity by the MAGA regime. Slavery, not pre-war prison labor, but the brutal system of the antebellum South had returned. The first to be manacled were existing prisoners, however the hyper punitive laws of the MAGA regime quickly grew the ranks of the incarcerated to virtually anyone who spoke out against their regime. Ethnic minorities were particularly targeted by the NDF and thus made up the bulk of the slave population. An entire market had emerged for the trading of prison labor contracts between agricultural and manufacturing corporations, and while the elites took people as servants and sex slaves. Then there were the death camps. First discovered late in 2029, the extent of the program was now impossible to deny. Dozens of camps had been found, built out of existing prisons. Troops would usually uncover these places by the stench of human remains in uncovered mass graves, their guards having fled to avoid capture. The locals tended to deny outright that they knew about the camps, or in many cases were totally unrepentant about "doing the Lord's work.

Midterm Elections: By Election Day 2030, the war has been dragging on for a year and a half and another winter is approaching with food and fuel rationing, albeit less severe than last year. Needless to say, a lot of voters are well and truly sick of a war that has only brought suffering on a level unseen in American history. The National Union Party exploits this by running a slew of candidates that oppose the Democrats' wartime rationing policies, demanding AOC re-open the oil wells in the Gulf of Mexico and ANWR, and even negotiate with the MAGA regime to bring the war to a peaceful conclusion. Most voters don't buy into this, especially in newly liberated Ohio, Indiana, Florida, Louisiana, North Carolina, and Georgia, and military voters hearts have only hardened against the MAGA regime. But in otherwise well-to-do parts of the country that are unused to the hardships imposed by the war effort, the National Union party's message resonates. Ultimately, the Democrats still hold super majorities in both houses, with the House majority particularly impressive thanks to the repeal of the Permanent Apportionment Act earlier in the year.

Crisis in Canada: 16 million American DPs have turned Ontario into a madhouse. Every resource and essential service was stretched well past its breaking point, and Prime Minister Poilievre's ineffective response resulted in his removal in a vote of no-confidence. Melissa Lantsman fails to form a government, and the Governor General refuses to call for an election with the country in crisis. Despite their pleas for the US to intervene and get their citizens under control so Canada can focus on fighting their own white nationalist insurrection in Alberta, the US can't pull troops from its own front lines. Instead, the US calls on the European members of NATO to intervene, pulling what few US troops are left in Europe to join as a symbolic gesture of solidarity. The International Counteraction Force or ICFOR, more commonly known as Icy Force, deploys to Ontario providing additional security and giving Canada the means to start organizing the deportation of the American refugees to the Eastern Green Zone.

D-Day on the Mississippi: After 2 years of reorganization and rearmament, 2 years of fighting to retake the Midwest and much of the South, Army Group East is finally ready to begin the long awaited Drive Across the Plains. On August 1, 2031 a quarter million troops launch a combined amphibious and air mobile assault on Iowa, Missouri and Arkansas while ground forces in South Texas push north. Canadian troops and Army Group West begin their own advance from British Columbia and West Texas. After a month more than a million troops have landed on the western side of the Mississippi. Casualties are high on both sides, but the NDF's last best troops are simply outnumbered, outmatched, and undersupplied, especially after the Great Fire of 2030 devastated their food supplies. Repairs to bridges will take many more months, but Federal troops can finally begin moving across the Great Plains, eventually uniting the country from Sea to Shining Sea once more.

The End of All Things: As Federal troops move across the plains in armor and with air support the NDF is being chipped away with each passing day. After years of inaction and now repeated defeats, its simply too much for most NDF soldiers, leading to a string of mutinies. Meanwhile MAGA leaders, seeing that defeat is now immanent begin to try to flee or take their own lives in a campaign of uncoordinated mass suicide unseen since the fall of Nazi Germany. As the MAGA government in their new provisional capital of Rapid City tries to determine a course of action, Trump Jr. and the comatose Trump Sr., along with much of their extended family attempt to flee by plane over Canada to a non-extradition country. They're intercepted by NATO F-35s over Nova Scotia and remanded to Federal custody. The capture of Trump and the flight of Trump Jr. demoralizes most of the remaining die hard MAGA supporters, leading to a wave of surrenders. This leaves only the Secessionist factions of the rebel government in Rapid City, and they vote to dissolve the united front and fight their own secessionist campaigns.

<-Part II \ Part III \ Part IV ->

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