#I love to think about how weird arthur looks to any outside observer when he interacts with John's hand

[wolf-of-woke-street]

Me (sobbing): They're HOLDING HANDS!!

Wide shot on an emaciated wet paper bag of a man. His two hands are awkwardly clasped together. He is shaking and clearly in need of medical attention

[ohallthecrushes]

Arthur Fleck developing feelings for a friend // Headcanons

Anon asked: Got headcanons about what happens when Artie develops feelings for a friend? 🤡

Sure I do. ^^ I'm not very happy with this, but I hope you like it.

Words count:601

Arthur is hit hard with the realization of feeling something deeper and stronger towards his friend.

He don't know what to do with it honestly.

The way he looks at you completely changed and he can't ignore nor change it back the way it was before.

He's too afraid of losing your friendship and too shy to open up to you and tell you about it, so at first he tries to act normal.

From the outside nothing's changed. You're still friends, you still do the same things together and talk about whatever you want to talk.

Maybe he starts holding his gaze at you for a little bit longer and maybe he starts being more weird and awkward than his usual self.

Maybe things have changed a little bit after all.

Maybe he's not aware of that, but if you 're observant and attentive to details, you may see that he starts blushing more when you look at him and starts asking you questions about love and relationship a lot.

But even if you somehow miss those details, your intuition will tell you that something is off with your friend.

Arthur doesn't feel good about himself when he has to lie to you or hide something before you. He knows he has to talk to you about it, but he just keep postpones it to a better time.

He will try to block any sexual visions and desires in his head, because he doesn't feel right thinking about you this way. Not yet, when you're still just friends.

But it's stronger than him sometimes, especially when he's lying alone on his couch and can't sleep, his thoughts are centered on you.

He can't stop thinking about your smile, your eyes, your hands, your voice, your everything.

At this point he's like a walking sexual tension (as if he wasn't before)

Everything starting in his head, he imagines you two together doing something romantic. First date, first kiss, first dance...He's curious how it would be if you were something more than friends. He wants to explore this idea.

He will try to get any information about your man type, if you're open to love and relationships, what's your favorite date would look like, if you're interesting in someone right now... He gets these information either from you directly or not.

Yeah, he may stalk you.

Than he starts giving you gifts, anonymously at first, like flowers at your door, small notes with compliments in your letterbox (handwritten), and a small keychain in a shape of a heart on a table inside your apartment. Subtle, right?

If you figure it out (and I'm sure you will, he wants you to figure this out) and confront him, he will admit it. His knees will be shaking, his palms sweating while telling you the truth, and if you turn out mad at him (that's what he fears the most), he will get into a laughing fit.

But he hopes, he really, really, really hopes that your response will be different, that you'll put your arms around his neck and kiss him hard on the lips, and tell him that you fell in love with him too.

That's what he wishes for.

But if you don't feel the same, he accepts that. He'll stop his small attempts to get your attention, get some alone time to recover, and soon things will get back to what it was before.

He rather have you as a friend than don't have you at all. Even if that means walking beside you with a broken heart for some time.

[thomotomo]

the peaky blinders oblivious to male reader practically turning the garrison into a gay bar, despite coming out to the family on many occasions — and the Shelbys just assuming he worked/grew up with a lot of people??

The Garrison Gay Pub

A/N: Heya! I really liked this request, though I struggled to write it :/ I hope you’ll enjoy reading it anyway!

Shelby! Male Reader x OMCs

Words: 1.3k

Rating: T (sexual innuendos very fast)

Being a member of the Shelby family had inconvenient, like the risk of getting kidnapped for a ransom but it had also a lot of advantages, like easily get away with something illegal just by your name and the signature clothing of your family. Even though you weren’t very much involved in the dirty family business you were spending a lot of time at The Garrison working alongside your older brother Arthur and keeping the bar when he left to go outside.

Again you were a lucky one, you had originally came out, extremely nervous in fear of getting thrown out or murdered on the spot, instead they accepted you with open arms and you were relieved. Until the night you brought a lad back into the house, you were pretty sure everyone had left and you were heavily making out on the top of a table, it was Tommy who find you and he had looked between you and the blonde-haired guy with something more akin to confusion than anything, until he seemed to suddenly remember which way you swayed and had left mumbling “You can go back to what you were doing.”

It had completely killed the mood but you couldn’t help but laugh at what just happened and the poor boy that was still not decent looked completely lost and a tad hurt by your laugh.

It wasn’t the first and only time it had happened and even if at first it was funny, but with every time it happened you were the one getting surprised, it seemed they easily forgot your coming out, not that you really minded, but in the sense that it always made them stop for a few awkward moments whenever they found you with a guy which broke the mood each time.

One night, after reading an article about a gay bar getting burned and how people inside either burned alive or were beaten up as they were trying to escape, which made you decide that you could do something for the people of the same “unusual” attraction to help/protect them by creating a space they could go to without any fear. You had talked to you latest conquest about it, telling him to talk to people like you to tell them to come to The Garrison the next day.

You had everything planned, Arthur had left you alone to work the next day considering he had a lot of things to do with Tommy (understand here rackets) you had free reign over The Garrison.

You had everything planned, even in case the police would show up uninvited. You spend the day working so everything would be ready for the night to come. The day had been going too slowly for your taste as you’ve been quite excited about tonight and couldn’t wait for the day to end up so you tried to entertain yourself with the clients that were coming and going.

At 8pm the guy you had brought back home yesterday night walked in with a smile and came straight to the bar where you were cleaning some glasses.

“Hey. I told some of my friends about this place, you sure the scorchers won’t come here?”

“Don’t worry about them they’ll leave us alone. And if any arseholes come around and insults us well let’s say they’ll regret it quickly.”

He nodded and asked for a drink which you served to him with a wink. Both of you stayed here, discussing as slowly the room was filled with people. Each new customer that was here for the “other sexualities” first event got a free drink to start the night.

As the hours passed it seemed that the words got on to a lot of homosexuals persons. You felt proud behind the bar, observing everybody feeling free for the night.

Two lesbians were making out in a corner and dark-haired dude flirted with another one. You could feel how everyone was relaxed and it made you completely proud and a soft smile slipped on your face as you looked around.

////

After a harsh day Arthur had decided to come to the Garrison, he still had a bit of blood on his cheek but he didn’t care, he really needed a drink.

He stepped inside the bar, ignoring all the hustle around him and going straight for the bar, sitting down and taking off his hat. Immediately a whisky ended up in front of him, he looked up and met your eyes, you were harbouring a grin and he couldn’t help but feel the corner of his lips rises against his will.

“Thanks brother.”

“You’re welcome, you seem to have had a long day!”

“Yeah you could say that…”, he replied, gulping his drink in one go before taking a look around, “There’s a lot of people, that’s good.”

You sighed in relief internally, everyone included you had took a deep breath, looking quite worried as he walked in the bar but he ignored all the people around both of you and quickly enough the atmosphere came back to what it was before, everyone relaxing again.

You stayed up until the early hours of the morning, serving people and discussing with them, though you mainly kept company to Arthur until he left and he didn’t seemed to care about the people around who didn’t seemed to fit the usual population he was around.

At around 4am the bar was empty and Arthur had since long been gone home. You made the patrons that were still here leave and then cleaned it before closing everything.

You stretched, breathing the smell of the early morning which always put you in a good mood, tonight even more as the night was a success, you felt extraordinarily happy that it worked the way you wanted, nobody came and questioned you about it, not even the police.

You walked back home, humming “Dance of the Knights” (yeah anachronistic but I’m obsessed with this song atm). You quietly slipped inside the family house, going to your bedroom, taking off your clothes and then slipping in the warmth of your bed, immediately falling asleep.

The next night, in the midst of all the gay people having fun your mother accompanied by Arthur walked in the bar, looking around a bit surprised. They sat to their usual seats, on a couch in a corner and waited for you to come and asks them for their drinks, observing you  easily interacting with everybody with a grin on your face.

“Well kid you seem to know a lot of people.”

“Yeah, I’ve met a few of them and they brought their friends so I met them and everyone is nice.”

“Good, good.”

They asked for their drinks, you quickly made them and served them. Close from their spot you spotted a gay couple heavily making out, you noticed Arthur’s head went in their direction but he seemed to either ignore them or plainly not see them.

You stopped watching them, acting as if they were normal clients and not your family, they didn’t react much so you decided to concentrate on flirting with the pretty redhead dude in front of you, winking at him.

The night went great, your mother and older brother didn’t stay for too long before leaving to do their things as you stayed with Theo, a guy whom your family hired to help you as Arthur now worked more on the street than at The Garrison.

////

Over the next few weeks The Garrison became a prominent safe place for gay people and even though some weird people could be find around it just to take out on “fags” and “dykes” you always took care of showing they shouldn’t mess with the people in here (nor the family owning the bar).

Your family often came around to discuss business and they hadn’t noticed anything, you supposed it was because they worked hard and didn’t have time to really think about it or because you were bringing a lot of clients and money to the bar.

Either way it seemed to be good “deal” for everyone and you clearly weren’t going to complain about it.

________________

A/N: Heya! I hope you enjoyed it, as you can see it seems a bit inachieved, I had no ideas on how to end up this story (and I’m a mess atm so it doesn’t help)

Anyway if you enjoyed the story don’t hesitate to reblog and leave a comment! You can also support my writing by leaving a tip on my Kofi! Love y’all <3

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Hii I have a request if you are doing some rn it's for draco and its just before the war starts and him and the reader (snapes daughter) run off to a house dracos parents have but when the reader is told her father has died they have to go back for the funeral and see everyone again (eg. Harry, Ron, dracos parents ect) ❤️

Oh the angst that is about to happen

Note: Sirius is still alive in this, originally I had this idea that Draco actually saved his life in the ministry battle.

The house was silent with the exception of the faucet's drip and Draco's breathing. Right now the summer house was the only peace he had. You were off with the trio, doing God knows what, worrying the hell out of Draco before you walked in. Draco looked up, rushing to you. You seemed to be in this state of shock as Hermione, Ron and Harry all followed. "What happened?" He asked. You said nothing, your mouth slightly open, eyes wide in this state of shock. "...Snape..." Hermione swallowed. "Severus is... Dead." Harry said making Draco look at you. You still seemed unresponsive. "How long has she been like this?" Draco asked. "Since Snape said goodbye." Ron muttered, sitting on the black couch with his face in his hands. Hermione sat next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back. "Y/n... Please say something." Harry begged. You swallowed, staring at one spot on the floor. "Gone." Was the last thing anyone heard you say before your body seemingly gave out and you fell over, Draco catching you.

You spent the next few days processing what happened. No one could talk to you, not even Draco could get you to utter a word. You were an orphan and caught in a war you barely understood as a fucking child. No one should suffer this much, no one deserves that pain. When the funeral was planned Snape asked that his final resting place be in a muggle cemetery. The oddest request but a good one. This meant a very small chance of Voldemort disrupting it. You expected a very small crowd but that was not the case. Students from all houses, even a few death eaters and teachers all showed up.

Mcgonagall sat next to you, Molly Weasley on your other side. The two women spent their time raising you, helping you through all of this. You still had that numb expression on your face. You tried to recall a time with a very very happy moment with your father. There were plenty but none of them were real moments that stayed with you. You remembered him showing vulnerable emotions and expressions to you but you never recalled a true moment where your father seemed truly happy. Then it hit you. The grading papers.

You sat in a seat next to your father's desk. "Father." You muttered. "Yes Y/n?" He asked. "What was mum like?" You asked. He never gave you a full answer to that. But something about his expression told you that he was going to give you a full answer this time. "Mia was a very strong woman... You take after her." He said with a mindless nod. "What made you love her?" You asked. He pondered at that. "Her intelligence." He replied. "She was smart?" You asked. "She was more than that. She had an answer for almost everything. But not in the way you'd expect." He stated, writing on a paper. "Like Hermione?" You asked. "No. Like a philosopher." Snape corrected. You nodded. "Am I like her?" You asked. He stopped writing and looked at you with a soft smile, moving your hair and looking at the eyes that reminded him everyday how strong you truly could be. "In more ways than one." He assured. You smiled and he went back to writing. "You have your mother's eyes." He told you. A fact you already knew but it was so sincere in the moment, you nearly had tears form.

An observation that would stay with you. An observation that nearly made you cry. The last comment from your father that he told you. Even in his dying moments Severus placed a hand on your cheek, brushing away the tears and he told you "Even in war.... You still have your mother's eyes."

You bit your lip, wiping your eyes and gripping the hem of your black dress. Molly swapped seats with Draco, him sliding his hand into yours and you buried your face into his black suit jacket. He held you close to him, closing his eyes as people got up to view him. His parents were silent, Narcissa being genuinely upset that someone who kept Draco safe and away from all of this was gone. He watched Draco grow up, for God's sake, you grew up in their home. Lucius couldn't face you. Not knowing he contributed to the loss of such a man.

Harry didn't necessarily like the man. He was a disagreeable person but the one thing they always settled on was you. Harry was like your brother, keeping you safe and sound when he needed to. To see this man gone was a hard hit especially since you were in pain and Harry couldn't fix it. Not this time.

Hermione was the same as Harry. Snape tended to give her a hard time for being intelligent but she did enjoy seeing him with you. Snape, even in class showed a happier side to him, encouraging you to show your intelligence and to think outside the box. She may not have liked him completely as a person. But even she could admit he was a damn good father to you.

Ron was more conflicted. He didn't like Snape. Snape didn't like him. Like Harry, the only common ground he had with him was you. Ron tended to be a bit more hardheaded but his feelings became less bitter when Severus actually acted kind and accepting to Molly. When Molly treated you with kindness and provided a second home to you, Snape was glad for this and encouraged you to go to them when you needed to.

Draco was not like any of them. Draco grew up along side you, he knew Severus a lot better than the others. He saw the truly vulnerable moments, he was there for the arguments, the laughter, the smiles and the family he knew to be yours. Lucius allowed you to be around Draco, seeing Severus as a friend more than an enemy. Draco and you had each other's backs in the toughest of situations and Draco was glad to see that you had someone like Draco assuring you that you were stronger than most people. When Draco actually fell in love with you, Severus had no objections to you two being together. Only that you two be slightly secretive due to your open affiliation with the Order and Draco being a double agent. In the end, that same thing is what killed Severus, being a double agent. The secrets literally destroyed him.

As the casket was lowered, there was not one wizard who didn't raise their wand, using the light to signify one that they lost. You dropped a single white rose onto the casket, Draco holding with one arm and you raising your wand sadly. Eventually people began to leave, leaving you standing by his graveside. The rain began to fall, Fred holding an umbrella over you as you stared vacantly at the ground. "...He was always such a pain in class... But he always seemed happy when you were around." George muttered. You let out a shaking breath. "We're here Y/n. All of us." Arthur assured.

"... What's your favorite memory of Snape? Everyone." Harry asked. "...When he smacked Ron and you upside the heads because you wouldn't stop talking and Y/n nearly toppled over because Ron made a weird noise." Ginny answered. "When Fred accidentally stepped on his cape and he was pissed for weeks, growling at him in class." George said. "When he pulled two students out of a carriage at the Yule." Hermione said making Ron smile. "When he nearly set Draco on fire for kissing Y/n in front of him." Ron said. A small smile tugged at your lips. "When he would read to me and Y/n growing up and he did those voices." Draco said making you finally smile. "When he nearly cussed out Quirrell for releasing the troll in our first year." Harry said. Everyone looked at you and you swallowed. "When me and him sat in his office and he finally answered questions about my mother... And he told me that..." You took in a breath, staring the single white rose. "I had my mother's eyes." You said. Finally. You spoke.

Suddenly though, the trio understood what sent you into shock. Hearing those words again... It must've changed the meaning of the memory you had. Draco kissed the side of your head and you sighed. "This is hard." You muttered. "You lost your Dad Y/n... It's okay to grieve." Remus said, making you all turn around as him and Nymphadora walked over. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder, giving a nod to Draco as a greeting.

"Severus was always a tight ass in school. But God damn was he smart." Sirius said. You let out a sad laugh. "He always had a soft spot for your mother though." Remus said making you turn. "What?" You asked. "Your mother. Mia." Remus said. "You... She was a wizard?" You asked. Everyone looked at you surprised. "You... Didn't know?" Remus asked. "Dad never answered conclusively and she's buried in a muggle cemetery." You said, motioning to the other grave. "....She was Songbird." Sirius said making Fred and George gape. "She was a Marauder?!" George asked. "Yes." Remus and Sirius answered in unison. "How the hell did dad like her then? He hated you guys." You asked. "Well hate is a strong word--" "Oh no. He hated you." Draco nodded. "No one could hate Mia. Not even Filch." Remus finally answered. Sirius looked at you as you stared at Snape's grave.

Tears streamed down your face and you let out a long breath. "Are you okay?" Sirius asked. You nodded after a long silence, the rain hitting the umbrellas. "I think I'll be okay..." You began

"I have my family with me."

Taglist: @amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho @yodeadxss @mariah-can-dream

[supercalvin]

🍷🔥👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

This is NOT what the poor prompter probably wanted, but my brain done did a thing again and y’all…this one’s weird.

Content warning for mentions of mild homophobia (mild? Is there such a thing?) but i swear its mostly just fluffy crack. Cracky fluff?

Prompts + Ficlets

***

Merlin didn’t usually run in these types of crowds, but Gwen had begged him come with her after Lance (the bloke she had been pining after since the beginning of term) had invited her to his football team’s house party. It was still Merlin’s first year as a sorcery student at university, so he told himself that crazy parties were just part of the experience.

The house seemed to be full of straight lads drinking cheap beer and drunk girls dancing in the too small sitting room. Despite the beer-stale air and the bad music, Merlin was still managing to have a good time. He knew Lance and Gwen, and had even spotted his flatmate, Arthur (who was on Lance’s football team and although they weren’t really friends, he was at least a familiar face.) That was until Lance and Gwen disappeared and Merlin was left to his own devices.

He was trying to be a wallflower, observing the party as an outsider (doing an Attenborough impression in his head about the mating rituals of young drunk students.) But then he caught sight of Val, a rugby player who was the type of bloke Merlin had learned to avoid at all costs. 

Fortunately, Val wasn’t paying any attention to Merlin. His focus was on his mates and the small bottle they were circled around. It took Merlin a few times to properly hear what they were saying over the loud music, but eventually he heard ‘wendu’ and he immediately knew what it was.

Wendu, short for an edwendu (i.e. reverse) which was aphrodisiac potion. Although it terrified mothers with teenagers, it was rather harmless. Edwendu tended to ‘switch’ sexualities. Straight people found themselves attracted to the same gender and vis versa. But potions weren’t an exact science (obviously, since it was magic) and sexuality was nowhere near as clean cut. Wendu usually just made people feel attraction for people they normally wouldn’t, if it worked at all.

Merlin had taken wendu once, when he was a young teen. It hadn’t done much of anything, but just for fun he had snogged his friend, Freya.

(“Still gay?” She had asked.

“Yeah. But you’re a good kisser.” He had said, pecking her on the cheek.

“You too. I think I’m ace, but it was nice either way.” Although wendu was effective on most people, studies found that most asexual people didn’t find any change in their sexual drive.

“Oh. Cool.” Merlin had said and offered to get her another drink.)

Now Merlin watched as Valiant poured the potion into an abandoned cup and Merlin felt his stomach drop. Val probably just wanted to see two girls kissing or humiliate some unsuspecting straight boy. Merlin was rushing forward, but the party was crowded and he was blocked on his way across the room.

By the time he was there, Arthur was drinking out of the cup.

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist before he could drink more.

“What the hell are you doing, Merlin?”

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to leave your drink unattended?” Merlin snapped.

Arthur frowned and looked down into his beer, suddenly looking a lot more worried.

Before Arthur could say anything more, Val was pouncing on Arthur and shouting something with his other idiot rugby mates. That was when they spotted Merlin, and they must have pegged him as gay (Merlin would have loved to make a comment about how some ‘straight lads’ seemed to have strangely accurate gaydar) but before Merlin could say anything, the idiots they were on him too.

Between jeers and taunts Arthur and Merlin were being dragged through the house until they were suddenly thrust into the hall closet, amidst loud chants about ‘going back in the closet.’

Merlin grunted as he hit the back wall, “God, get a new joke, bastards.”

“Wendu?” Arthur asked in the darkness. He must have connected the dots.

“Saw them spike your drink with it,” Merlin ran his hand over the wall until he felt for the light switch, turning on the single dim lightbulb. “I swear, there’s nothing stupider than a bunch of straight men in packs.” Merlin said, turning to Arthur. “No offense.”

Arthur started to laugh, looking far too happy about being drugged. Admittedly, wendu wouldn’t do anything to Arthur. Maybe make him a little randy and feel a pull towards men, but it wasn’t a roofie. Arthur would probably loose more inhibitions after a shot of tequila.

“What are you so happy about? I’m not sucking your cock just because your drugged.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned against Merlin, forcing Merlin against the small closet wall. It really was inconvenient how attractive Arthur was.

Arthur huffed, his breath puffing against Merlin’s lips, “I’m not a monster, Merlin. I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to.”

Merlin felt his eyes widen until he was sure he looked like a startled owl. “Who said anything about snogging?”

“Might be a bit of fun,” Arthur said, a lecherous grin spreading across his lips.

“Look, we’re drunk and having fun,” Merlin said, “And I don’t mind kissing a straight bloke, but I don’t want you to be weird about it tomorrow morning.”

Arthur leaned in, his lips brushing Merlin’s ear. His teeth nipped Merlin’s earlobe, making him squeak in surprise.

“I may be drunk, but I sure as hell am not straight, love.”

Merlin felt his knees weaken and was suddenly glad for the wall behind him.

“But if you’re gay- Then the potion?”

“I’m bi and you look just as good as you did before that potion.”

Wendu usually worked. Emphasis on ‘usually.’ Bi or pan people, since they were generally attracted to all genders, typically felt an increased attraction to everyone.

“Oh shit,” Merlin said, hands coming up to Arthur’s hair. “Are you going to regret this tomorrow?”

“Are you?” Arthur’s breath brushed across Merlin’s lips softly, although the words sounded more like a challenge than a tender endearment

Merlin didn’t hesitate and snogged Arthur senseless.

***

Prompts + Ficlets

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Ner naak (My peace)

Pairing : Din Djarin x earthling!reader

Warning : none.

Summarize : Din Djarin meets you, an earthling, who has no idea of the existence of an outer space. 

Words : 2633

A/n : This is probably the longest story I had to translate but I hope it really worths it! You can find the previous chapters in the Ner naak Masterlist link just below. Enjoy your reading!! 

Masterlist. // Ner naak Masterlist.

Life, could manifest itself in some particularly strange ways. And there were many things you had not expected to experience, the first of which was to host two beings from the space under your roof. The second was probably having to justify the presence of a man in full armor sitting in the passenger seat of your car. 

You had managed to convince Mando to leave the child at home, under the watchful eye of your dog. In fact, you had even hoped that he too would remain out of sight, but trying to convince a Mandalorian was a long shot. 

Mando insisted on coming with you. You were going to look for the mechanical parts needed to get the ship back up and running, and he wanted to make sure you had the right materials. Even though you had explained to him that in any case, the parts you collected would be transformed to fit the ship, he didn't want to hear anything. 

Din was actually curious. He had heard so much about the Earth and its people. And to him, you were like an alien, it was a whole world to discover, and he didn't want to miss it for anything in the world. It might even have been the first time he could take the time to discover a planet without getting shot. 

But it didn't make it any easier for you. 

You looked at your neighbor, leaning against your car door, with the most natural smile you could offer. Your hands were clenched on your steering wheel and your neurons were already wriggling to find a logical explanation for Mando's armor.

"Anton! To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Oh, I saw you get in the car with... huh, your friend, I thought I'd say hi."  He said, staring at Mando indiscreetly. "Is there a carnival in town or something?" He asked for you.

Anton wouldn't take his eyes off Mando and it was getting embarrassing. You couldn't tell how Mando felt, but if you were in his shoes, you probably would have hated that look. You could see from the corner of your eye that Mando was holding his gaze. So you came up with the best excuse you could think of.

"Actually, it's a birthday party for a friend's daughter. She's turning six, and you know how little girls that age are, they dream of having their knight in shining armor." You say. "So, huh, my friend here has kindly offered to play along."

You clear your throat. You prayed silently for this lie to work, and when your neighbor suddenly appeared to understand a math class, you refrained from crying out for relief. 

"Ah! Like the knights of the Round Table! What an impressive armor, don't change a thing buddy!" Anton enthused over. 

Mando stared at him silently. Poor Mando, he probably didn't understand anything about this knight story, but at least it was a decent explanation for the moment.

You didn't want to linger there any longer, you thanked Anton and ended up on the road to your mechanic.

"A knight in shining armor?" Mando asked you. 

" Well, it's a long story. But to make it short, the novels are full of romantic stories involving medieval knights. I could lend you a book on the legends of King Arthur, if you like to read, of course." You said. 

"I don't know if I like reading." 

You took your eyes off the road to look at Mando. How could someone not know whether or not they liked to read? And you suddenly wondered what that man had done in his life to not be able to know. 

"I never had a chance to read." 

Din felt he had to justify himself. You had been so surprised by his answer that he wondered if reading was not an integral part of being an earthling. And then you nodded, giving him a warm smile. How could so much kindness slumber in a single being?

"Well, since you're going to be stuck here for a little while, maybe this is your chance to find out?" 

Mando didn't answer anything. Only a hesitant nod indicated that he agreed, and your smile only got bigger. 

Din watched you focus on the road again. He took the opportunity to take a look at the machine that was driving you both to your chosen destination. It was a strange passenger compartment. He had quickly figured out that it was thanks to the pedals that you were sending the necessary impulse to the machine to move forward, but he was still amazed by the lack of controls and instruments for piloting. He put his arm on the armrest of the car door, but because of his gauntlet, the button to open the window went off. 

The third thing that was particularly unexpected for you was to see a Mandalorian getting startled by a window opening itself. You had to admit it, Mando was a strange bird, but watching him discover the little earthly things was surprisingly entertaining. You closed the window on your side calmly as Mando settled back onto his seat, almost embarrassed to have been surprised. 

"At least I know I'm not the only one who's taken aback by new things." You said. "Wait, you're gonna love this!" You excitedly said as you pressed the button to turn on the radio. 

The music spread around the car and Mando suddenly stared at the radio. There were probably more controls to monitor this little box than there were to drive the vehicle. The music playing was rather rhythmic, Din noticed that you were tapping your steering wheel with your fingers in sync with the song and you seemed to particularly enjoy the song. It was weird by the way. It didn't sound like anything he'd ever heard before, but as strange as it sounded, it wasn't unpleasant at all. 

"You can change if you don't like it, just press this button. " you told him.

Din was curious, he pressed it and suddenly several voices rose up to narrate he didn't know what about he didn't know who. He pressed again and this time a much softer song was played. He liked it. He let it end and changed the radio station again until you recognized the first notes of a band that you had fully intended to introduce to the Mandalorian. 

"This one! That's them!" you  exclaimed. 

"Them?"

"Daft Punk, that's them!" 

You couldn't see it, but Din frowned as he listened to Get Lucky playing on the radio. He was focused on whether or not he liked those "Daft Punk" with whom you had compared him. His finger barely touched the button, ready to change the station and after a few seconds of listening, he didn't feel particularly flattered by the music. He changed it without any further ado. 

"You don't like it?"

"Not really." he replied. 

"It would have been funny, you guys look alike, you'd have made a great trio. " You teased. 

"Why?"

You didn't say anything. You checked to see if there were any police officers around before you took out your phone, looking on the internet for a picture of the Daft Punk. Then you handed your phone to Mando, who silently observed the picture of the two men in helmets. 

"It's not beskar, it won't even stop a blaster shot, these helmets are useless." He stated suddenly, putting the phone back where you took it. 

You couldn't help but giggle. You shook your head in disbelief, looking at him. 

"Beskar doesn't exist here and these helmets aren't made for..." And then you realized what he just said. "Wait, a shot of... of what?"

"Blaster. " he said. 

"What the... no. Actually, I'd rather not know." You changed your mind. "These helmets are like, let's say, a symbol. It's just, for appearance's sake." 

Din didn't really understand the point behind it, so he didn't answer. Maybe there was some logic in it, but in this case, it was beyond his knowledge. 

Then you park the car at a small parking lot. There was a building in corrugated iron across the street, and several dented cars were stored under a shed. 

" Here we are. This is where I hope to find most of the pieces for your ship. This auto shop belongs to my father's old friend. He shouldn't ask too many questions. " You said, more to reassure yourself than to reassure Mando. 

"If he does, I'm still a knight in shining armor. "He said, and you could hear the grin that Din had on his face. 

He didn't get out of the car until you stepped outside. You had made a list so that you wouldn't waste too much time here. 

" The only thing you're missing is your trusty steed. " you joked. 

As soon as you'd finished your sentence, your father's friend was already coming to meet the two of you.

"Y/n! It's good to see you!" 

"Hello Henry, it's been a long time. "You said. 

"I know you've been working a lot, but you should tell your students to leave you alone for an hour or two and come see me! "He called out. 

"You're right, they'll probably be happy about that actually. "You said. 

"And who are you bringing me?" 

Henry turned to Mando, offering his hand to shake it. Mando seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when you nodded gently, he shook Henry's hand. 

"Henry, this is Mando."

"Nice to meet you, Mando, so tell me, what can I do for you?" Henry just went on. 

You handed him your list, mentally thanking him for not dwelling on Mando's appearance. Henry stared at it, rubbing his beard. 

"Well, it's a big restoration you got there. "He noticed. 

"Ah, that's a hell of a slog, you could say. "You said. 

"What type?"

"Never been seen before. " You answered and you couldn't be more exact. " It belongs to Mando. It's a real gem. You wouldn't believe it."

You would've given yourself an Award for acting. Henry glanced enviously at Mando, probably imagining a real gem in the automobile world. 

"Any self-respecting man gives his marvel a name, so what's the name of this beauty?" 

You rolled your eyes. Only a man like Henry could have said such a thing. But, to your surprise, Mando replied. 

"The Razor Crest." 

"You'll have to show me that car!"

"Once we get it up and running. " Mando said. 

You were stunned to see Mando getting into your game, but you were happy about it. Henry nodded and sneaked into his workshop with your list. 

"The Razor Crest?" You repeated. "So you really give names to ships?" 

"It's more like..." Mando looked around before he showed you the license plate of a car in the parking lot. "something like that." 

"License plate? Ships are identified in space?"

He nodded when Henry appeared again, making a sign to follow him. After joining him to the workshop, Henry pushed a wagon towards you and Mando. 

"I don't have everything, but take what you can. " he said. 

"Thank you, Henry. Let me know the bill. "You said. 

He nodded and left the two of you to gather the pieces.

You'd already stuck your nose in the high shelves, scrutinizing every piece of metal you encountered. 

"It's nice of you to offer, but unfortunately, whatever money you have is probably worthless here. That's one of the consequences of not knowing the true extent of the universe. " You said, grabbing an alternator in your hand. 

You looked at it from every angle and decided it would do the trick. You put several in the cart. You took a step back, trying to find out where Henry stored his spark plugs.

"So how can I thank you? " Mando asked. 

"Well... if you've got a way to get to the top of that shelf, I'm in."

You showed him the position of the spark plugs and sighed looking for a stepladder, but Mando had another idea in mind. 

"I've got one. " he simply said. 

You frowned, not understanding what he wanted to do when he pushed his cloak to one side, revealing a dorsal reactor. You would have been speechless if he hadn't suddenly left the ground and risen three feet in the air, grabbing a few spark plugs before reaching the ground again.

You lost your words as Mando handed you the pieces. You didn't want to stare at him, but it wasn't very common to see a human being flying with a jet pack either. 

"People don't do that around here?" Mando said.

It was more of a statement than a question, but you shook your head, telling him that they didn't. But you couldn't stop smiling either. 

"It's just, amazing. "You said as you picked up the spark plugs. " But, uh... " You moved closer to Mando to put his cloak back over the jet pack. "As much as I'd love to try that someday, you' d better hide this. »

You felt sad about having to tuck away Mando's appearance like that. Though, you smiled at him kindly as you kept selecting useful mechanical components for the ship. 

"Earthlings really don't like anything that doesn't look like them. " Mando said suddenly.

It couldn't be more true. You were watching Mando. His helmet, his armor, the equipment that girdled him, and now his jetpack. You weren't really concerned about the "normal" people, you were concerned about the authorities. You were worried about the government, the scientists, NASA, all those people who would make sure that no one would find out about a faraway place. You were worried about these people and their scientific experiments. You were gradually realizing that you were probably the only person on Earth who had living proof that the universe was much wider than people were willing to admit. And somehow that was frightening and it put you in a dangerous position. Because people don't like those who know too much. 

"I wish I could tell you that it's not true, that everyone can proudly show their culture and their differences, but in fact it is not the case. If you're not within the framework, you become a target. And there are so many crazy people in this world that some would be able to kill you for being different. I really wish I could proudly announce that you're living proof that we're not alone in the universe, but that would be like sentencing us to death... both of us. " You concluded. 

Din had paid attention to your words. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe he wasn't as safe on this planet as he thought he was. He was becoming more and more aware that leaving the Earthlings behind in the universe had done more harm than good. And then, your last sentence caught his attention. Sentencing you both to death. Why would she be? He understood why he would, but y/n? He didn't realize he could endanger you just by knowing he existed.

Din stopped you suddenly, putting his hand on your shoulder for the first time. It may even have been the very first time he had ever initiated physical contact with an almost stranger. And it felt like a pact he was signing with you. 

"I can promise you this will never happen. " Mando said. 

"You don't know about the doggedness of our leaders. " You said.

"And they don't know about the Mandalorians."

His statement sounded like a promise, and the anxiety that Din had noticed in your eyes had evaporated. Yes, if necessary, he would protect you.

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

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[crimson-snowfall]

Ikemen Vampire: Language of Flowers - Isaac

Flower: Crimson Polyanthus

Meaning/Symbolism: The heart’s mystery

Word Count: 1576 (mildly NSFW)

In the world of Isaac Newton, if something cannot be explained by logic, then perhaps it best to steer clear of it. The universe holds a never-ending amount of secrets that’s just waiting to be unraveled, and through mankind’s conglomeration of knowledge, Isaac believes that in due time, humanity will arrive on a logical explanation to even the most perplexing things on the contemporary.

Thus, Isaac has made it his purpose in life to discover and understand as many as possible of the universe’s unknowns, and consequently, he would rather not dwell on things where logic seems to be rather inapplicable or inconsistent most of the time… such as human interactions and emotions.

However, when all is said and done, no matter how Isaac may try to close off himself from his others and his emotions, the saying that “no man is an island” remains applicable to him, and no amount of suppression can ever deny that the emotion called “love” are among the many emotions that exist within him.

Delving deeper onto the topic of love… just like all other emotions, Isaac used to think of it as a product of biochemical reactions, and trying to go further than that just makes everything complicated. He specializes in physics for a good reason, so he thought the topic of love and other emotions are best left at the hands of experts who are actually interested. Frankly speaking, Isaac just can’t imagine himself being ever involved with another being so much to the point that the he’ll ever be interested with the mystery of love and other emotions.

And for the entirety of his human life and a good few years of his life as a vampire, that had been the case– until you came along.

Now everything is a mess, and destiny is having Isaac experience first hand this emotion that baffles him so much, which he considers the most illogical and subjective emotion there is. It’s not one of those things where he can just go like, “maybe if I ignore it, it will eventually go away.”

No. Just no. And it drives him nuts.

Isaac realized that until he has this emotion called “love” figured out at least, then he can’t go on normally with his academic pursuits, because nowadays can’t think of anything else but you, you, you. Your smile, the sound of your laughter, and even the scent of your hair haunts him even in his dreams. He was also dead wrong in thinking that perhaps confessing his love and entering an established relationship with you would wash away a little the sense of novelty that has him so excitable over every single thing you do, because if anything, things just took a turn for the worse and you always leave him acting like a love-struck, hormonal teenager.

You found Isaac sulking on the library, obviously frustrated over the complicated set of theorems he’s been working on for months now. He may not have realized it himself, but your lover has been eating a little less lately, so you brought him something to snack on.

“Isaac, I brought you something to eat.” You set down the plate over the closest spot on the table that wasn’t covered with reference materials. Isaac was caught a little off guard by your sudden appearance that he jolted a little from his seat. Perhaps giving him a tender smile after witnessing that wasn’t the best idea after all, because now he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, his emotions rapidly shifting from that of surprise to love.

“I’m sorry Isaac, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” and with that, the blush on his face is probably now from embarrassment over you apologizing for something like that.

What a ride, Isaac thought. Can he even go a single interaction with you without having to ride this roller coaster of emotions? He couldn’t form any coherent thoughts in the interval it took him to calm down his emotions, and by the time he had composed himself, you figured that it’s best if you leave him be for now, since the teasing can always be saved for the night.

But just as soon as you had declared your intention to leave, a hand firmly held yours, halting you in your tracks. “N-no. Stay here… don’t go.”

“Are you sure, Isaac? Wouldn’t my presence here be too distracting for you?” Isaac looked away, cursing his inability to hide how much of a mess his emotions are when it comes to you. You felt yourself being tugged down, and the next thing you know, you were sitting on Isaac’s lap, his arms around your waist, his face buried on your chest.

“I don’t mind… no, I don’t even care anymore about what I was doing… j-just…” he trailed off, mumbling incoherently as he pressed his face harder on the comforting softness of your chest.

“Isaac? I’m afraid I can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Or are you trying to emphasize that you love my breasts that much?” Isaac abruptly brought up his head, but when he saw that smile on your face, he thought he might as well just go with the flow. He rested his chin back on top of your breasts but kept his gaze averted.

“That’s not what I was trying to say... but y-yes, I do l-love your b-breasts.”

“Oh, is that so?” The teasing smile that graced your lips is one of Isaac’s guilty pleasures. Under normal circumstances, being teased irritates him to no end, and such is the case with Arthur and Dazai. So just what the hell is it about your smile? Not only does it dispel his aversion towards being teased… but it does a terribly good job at making him aroused.

Isaac finally met your gaze, but only for a short while, before you’re consumed in a flurry of kisses that started with your lips, and ended with buttons flying off your blouse as Isaac ravaged your soft breasts. You did well stifling your moans, but the great physicist doesn’t like that. Isaac may be an introvert, but he sure likes it loud and lively when it comes to you– and he will stop at nothing just to get you chant his name like a passionate prayer for salvation.

“You shouldn’t have bothered with the snacks if you were coming here yourself,” was all he said before leading you off to the most secluded part of the library. You knew that Isaac had a lifetime’s worth of unattended sexual desires, but you weren’t expecting having sex with him outside a bedroom this early into your relationship, and in the library no less. Still, it was a pleasant surprise, so you didn’t mind at all as he pinned you against a sturdy bookshelf.

“You know, I’ve thought about it over and over,” his words were hushed as he spoke in between the downpour of kisses and bites he’s raining down your neck and shoulders, “but darling…” a finger help up your chin so that his unwavering and lust-filled gaze locked with yours, “just why do I love you so?”

Without waiting for your answer, he sealed your lips with his as he made quick work of hoisting up and spreading your legs, before he finally allowed his body to do the talking. Isaac has yet to learn everything about being gentle, and before long his name filled the room in lustful moans that were just as erratic and needy as his thrusts… just the way he likes it.

Isaac apologized over and over again as you helped him return the books he had borrowed to the shelves. For starters, your blouse was missing a couple of buttons, and while it wasn’t so obvious, anyone with an observant eye would notice that there’s something quite off about the way you walk.

“Come on, stop apologizing Isaac. We had a great time, didn’t we?” You pulled him in a hug as you finished shelving the last book. He sighed in exasperation.

“Great? What’s so great about walking weird?” Isaac returned your embrace as he regarded you with concern.

“Hmmm… maybe you can think of it as proof that you’ve loved me oh-so-passionately today?”

Your retort earned you a perplexed look, but as much as you take pleasure in teasing your lover, you can tell from the moment you walked in the library that he’s suffering again with his thoughts. So you wracked your mind and came up with some words of comfort, something that would at least take him off his worries.

“Isaac, I know you would probably disagree but, I think not all mysteries are meant to be understood. Some mysteries obtain their charm by remaining a mystery, and when faced with a mystery like that… well, you just have to enjoy it. I’m not an expert on love myself, but I believe that’s just the kind of mystery love is.”

Isaac looked as though something had dawned on him, before his expression returned to that of concern. He took your hand and kissed the puncture wounds he had left, before conceding, at least for that day. “Well, if you say so. I’m still not fully convinced, but I guess…” he looked away as though finding the right words, then looked back at you with a genuine smile,

“I guess I’ll take you up on enjoying this warm, happy feeling.”

Whew the bias really shows, and yeah this is definitely going to be longest one in this fic series. Isaac is my best boy and I’m so looking forward to his route release on the EN server . Oh and btw, Happy Valentines everyone! Hope you’re all having a great day~

More on this series:  [[Napoleon]] [[Mozart]] [[Leonardo]] [[Arthur]] [[Vincent]]  [[Theodorus]] [[Dazai]] [[Jean]] [[William]] [[Comte de Saint Germain]] [[Sebastian]] [[Vlad]]

[iam-kenough]

Will you ever notice me? (Arthur Morgan x Orgininal Female Character)

Summary:  During they wandering in deep snowstorm, man from van  der Linde gang found odd looking girl and Dutch decides to take her  to  camp to see if she can be any use, leading life of outlaw with them.  Quickly, new girl develops feelings towards Arthur, but he sees her just  as a kid…and she won’t take that! It’s an original character story  that starts in the place where Arthur, Dutch and Micah were supposed to  first meet with Sadie. Instead she’s already with them.  

Authors notes: It’s another chapter and you can find the rest of them following masterlist on my blog if you want to read more of my  fanfiction. Hope you gonna enjoy it! Word count: 2576 Chapter 10 Fire was finding away and Iris looked at it passively. She just lost everything she thought she had and even more, counting in baby that no one knew about. It was somehow strange, like Iris was watching a movie with her and Arthur in starring roles. People wanted love made for movie screens or books, but... All she wanted was just someone's warmth. Arthur seemed to have it but Iris had to face the fact that it wasn't meant for her. He had Mary. Girl bit on her lip, thinking about the woman. She was gorgeous, she was grace and the way Arthur looked at her - Iris couldn't help but to shrink. It was understandable he chosed a woman he knew instead of sticking to a girl who was all new to these things. What did she had to offer? She couldn't even kiss properly or fight for him, her flirt reminded more awkward calling for help rather than something hot. - Ah, I can't enjoy my evening seeing thing like you there - Micah sat down by the fire and spitted. Iris shivered with disgust. - I'm leaving, you are right. I know I look like shit. - What happened - he asked suddenly. Maybe it was the booze but he wasn't feeling like fighting. He had soft spot for woman in need, surprisingly. - Nothing you would care about, I think. We're not friends. - I am wasted so we can be, I'm gonna forget by the morning anyway so use it wisely, spill the beans. Iris wasn't sure, she was afraid but she didn't have someone at this moment. Mary-Beth was angry with her for chasing Arthur over and over and forgetting about her when it was good. And she had every right to be mad, Iris knew she's terrible friend. - Let's say...I have a lot on my plate, okay? - Go on, probably it's nothing I haven't heard about, dumbass. - I got shot and lost the baby. - Holy shit - he rised his head - Morgan would be a father? - Yes - Iris curled up, her knees under her chin. She was small but now one could tell she was suddenly shrinking - He won't know anyway. He's after Mary now. - Weren't you stupid flattering yourself enough to believe he would look at you - Micah snorted and then came the rest of the sentence - he's too old to stick to babygirl in attractive package, can't blame him for that. - That's what I was thinking. Maybe with a little bit of hope it's my low self-esteem talking but there you are. - I ain't friend of yours and that's good. Won't sugarcoat. Morgan is weird, as I noticed. He doesn't seem to care for anything if it was love related beside that Mary girl, he was talking about her a lot and then stopped, leaving gooey self behind and turning into cold motherfucker again.  But on the other hand - Micah took a sip from his bottle - Even you can do better, you are step ahead of him being younger and less sentimental. - I hoped...I thought he's different at first. But I think you're right, eh? At least I'm young, gotta recover quicker - she shook her head - thanks for listening me anyway. - Wasn't listening, as I said I'm gonna forget everything by tomorrow. Don't flatter yerself, missy - he waved her off and looked away, his face empty and numb. -Another letter from that Mary girl - Mrs Grimshaw handed Arthur piece of paper. Iris was sitting near enough to hear, sipping on a cup of coffee - Thought you over that, she's funny business that woman. Arthur just quickly analysed the letter and put it inside his pocket. Iris was looking at him in descreet manner, concealing behind her hair. Man looked worried even though he just got letter from his lover. What is going on inside his head? - Mind if I join you? - Mary-Beth approached, half smiling. It's been a long time since their last girl talk. Iris was almost sure Mary-Beth just ditched her forever. Who would've listen her whines. - No, of course I don't mind - Iris immediately made space for her - What's up? - No, I am here to ask you what's up. Let's forget that you ditched on me to mingle with Mr Morgan and now you are happy to see me when he left you. I wanna know what's up despite that. - Listen, I can't - she looked around. Arthur was listening and even peeking at her thinking she didn't notice - Let's find ourselves a place. Mind if I poured myself somethin' stronger, eh? -No - Mary-Beth said with deadpan voice, squeezing her glass so hard her knuckles went white - it's simply not true, it can't be. - Don't pity me, please. I'm slowly adjusting myself to it. - How can you be like that when he simply left you for another with a child? - I was "another", Mary-Beth, thinking I can compare. I'm nothing he would need in his life, I know he's dreaming about children. He looks like the type of family man, especially when you notice how loyal he is towards everyone in the camp or how he's taking care of Jack. And I'm just a kid who's terrible in locating their feelings. - You can't just let him go, not now?! You basically lost part of you in sake of this wild romance! Now there's no turning back. - I gave up, Mary-Beth. We wouldn't work out anyway. Let's drink for me not falling like a fool again. It was first time in a while when they took a task together. Iris dressed herself in manly clothes, with coat, hat hiding her hair and gunbelt around her waist. There was a bounty, easy one for girl searched by law for robbery. What a wild times it is, forcing woman to things like that or to find themselves a man just to mean something. Alone they were considered as useless. Arthur decided that it's gonna be the best for them if he's gonna be formal. Harsh maybe. Girl was clearly over him but now he wouldn't wish to trigger any awkward situations. He was looking ahead, ignoring her presence. Iris grabbed her hip-flask from horse cargo. They were heading mountains and the cold was slowly getting to her. But there was remedy, whiskey. She gulped on golden liquid and blush caused by alcohol appeared almost straight away on her face. The closest to hug it could get for her. Whiskey was a good lover too, Iris discovered that it can lulle her to sleep just like lover would. Now she get why her daddy liked it alot. - Need ya sharp minded today, kid, so slow down a little - Arthur's voice was harsh and cold. It was just like the day they met, Iris reminded herself. First time they were a team, searching for John Marston. Back then he also was looking ahead, with this ugly smirk on his face, visible scar on chin with beard trimmed harshly, probably by dull razor. He was tall and beefy, large and surely intimidating. Now, when it was over Iris could look at him as a stranger, again, with clear head. She wasn't happy to discover he caused butterflies in her stomach, even bigger now, since she knew what was hiding under navy-blue coat. Iris looked away with shame. - Don't worry, just warming myself up, I'm freezing - she put on leather gloves and fixed her hat, hoping it will hug her ears a little bit more, since tips of earlobes were going numb. Arthur ignored it, but only on the outside. Inside him there was a war. He just stepped away from girls life, numbed himself a little so he won't notice her anymore. It wasn't that Mary was better now, after years. It was just smart choice, him being an old outlaw, he would hurt Iris even more staying with her and making her life miserable with his presence. That's why he tried not to give a shit, he was good at it. At the end of the day he was cold headed feller who would shot someone's head of if it was needed. Iris jumped off her horse, grabbing her pump-action shot gun and loading it with amo. When she was younger she didn't knew much about guns, but had to find out about them soon if she didn't want to starve. Her aim was shitty thought. She got better with time,   observing Arthur, just like almost with everything, from skinning an animals to being as much intimidating as him when needed. At least girl tried her luck with it whenever she could, 'cause she was a woman, a girl after all. That's why she was bounty hunting with Arthur Morgan, no one dared to treat her like child in his presence. - After you - he said, putting out a cigarette with a shoe, bad habit of his. Iris pretended she haven't noticed, it wasn't her place to make comments. Not anymore at least, but now when she was thinking about it, it never were. They just had sex few times, to have fun, right? Iris expected that the cabin, where thiefgirl were supposed to be hiding could be a bait. She could notice them too, first and preparing a trap now. So without hesitation she kicked the door in, holding her weapon tightly. Even if the opponent was also a girl she wouldn't underestimate her. Iris remembered how Sadie was. But there was one one inside. She stepped forward and that was careless. Woman they were hunting jumped at her straight away, as she was hiding behind the door before they came. It was trap that even child would be aware off. But  now Iris wouldn't take shit from anyone. Few moves and opponent was under her, trying to escape. Girl catched a rope from Arthur's hands and hogtied thief. - Get off me, bitch! - I ain't likin' the way you speak to me, babydoll - Iris growled and decided she doesn't have to be nice today. She grabbed woman's hair and knocked her out by smashing her face against he floor. Arthur whistled. - Where did ya learn to be cruel like this? - I have someone to learn from, ya know. Clean this up - she said, pointing at woman under her. Of course she was talking about him, he was the scariest man she knew when he wanted to be one. Iris and Arthur took woman to closest sheriff's office and collected their prize. It was nice amount of money. Iris started saving lately again. When she saw that being a couple with Arthur was just her wet, girlish dream she decided to save some money. Vision of moving away somewhere nice was really nice. - Thank ya, Mr Morgan. See ya around - she said and turned to walk away. Saloon was her new favourite direction, a glass of something stronger and all worries were easier to put aside. - I am heading the same direction, ya know. Don't bother yourself anyway. - Sure - she shrugged and entered the saloon, taking place at the bar. Arthur's taken sit right next to her and placed coins on bar surface. - Two rounds for me and the lady. Iris threw him suprised look. - You don't have to, I have money. Have it back - she said and give him few coins  as a recompensate. His brows furrowed and he took them. - I don't get it, you always liked being treated - he said suddenly. -...yes. I still like it when someone important in my life does that - she said without hesitation. That was harsh but Iris didn't care. World is harsh too and so is Arthur Morgan's love. She was sitting next to him as he was getting visibly drunk. Time was passing as he wasn't looking like he's leaving, but it was already dark outsite. If she knew he's gonna pull that on her she would just go do another saloon in another town. - I'm getting back - she said, putting on her hat and gloves - Ya stayin or goin' with me, Mr Morgan? - Don't be silly, you drank nothin'. One more, on me. - Nope, I had enough and you had more than that. I am no one to scold you about it though, that's why I asked simple question. Are you going, or nah? He frowned, his eyes hazy, lips forming in thin line. - Okay, in this case I'm coming with ya. You gonna wonder around and get yourself hurt without me. Iris wasn't planning oto change Arthur's  mind, it was easier to lure him outside in this case. She knew him long enough to know he wanted be helpful and he wanted be needed. But that was the end of brilliant plan, as soon as he got up she noticed that he's gonna fall from the horse right away. He ignored her arm and was going straight ahead bumping against everything and everybody. He forgot all his belonging so she collected them. For fucks sake, it was always like that in her life. - Where are ya going, cowboy? - her gaze went up from his head to his shoes. - To the camp, I have more booze there - he hiccuped and catched balance by holding against the wall. - Like hell, look at yourself. I'm gonna pack you inside the hotel room and you gonna catch up tomorrow. Dutch won't be mad if it's gonna be me telling him that. - Yer not going anywhere - he gestured widely, showing he's totally not okay with this plan - Yer gonna get yourself killed in the middle of the night! - I have guns and I'm perfectly fine on my own since you left me, Mister. His eyes opened slowly like he was stroked with what she said and looked up at her face. - Iris? - Arthur was totally surprised that she was standing in front of him, like he wasn't along her all evening. - What the fuck, did someone put some drugs to your drink? F'course it's me, I've been sitting her with you last few hours. - I love you, girl... - his gaze become hazy and his eyes were dreamy. Oh, he was drunk as hell, she could tell that. He barely stood by himself and all those hiccups assured girl that Arthur is gonna puke. - Oh, bite me. Come, you need to lie down as soon as possible - she grabbed his arm and with visible difficulty lead him towards hotel, hoping the owner won't flip out and let them in, seeing Arthur in this condition. Then he hiccuped once more and puked on her, starting with her coat and finishing on shoes. - Christ almighty, I could've predicted that. Sit there - she placed him on a bench and started wiping herself with visible disgust, breathing deeply. Now she was close to puking too. - I'm sorry - he burped. She passed him water canteen. - Grab yourself a water and get yourself together, Mister. - I want more booze...- he burped again - I need to drink... - Hell no! Look what've just done to me, you need water and some greasy breakfast in the morning. I will treat ya if you gonna come with me, hmmm? He did.

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 23: Drawings And Diatribes

Today is the opening of Theo’s exhibition. I asked Sebastian for the evening off so I could go see it. Vincent’s paintings will be there, and I am curious to see if his style has changed much since he became a vampire. His art was always my favorite.

The Van Gogh brothers left earlier to set it up, so I take a carriage by myself to the city center. The place is already buzzing when I arrive. Vincent spots me when I walk in and greets me with a bright smile.

“Anaïs! I’m glad you made it, I want to show you something,” he says, taking my hand. I let him guide me through the crowd to the corner of the gallery, and we come to a stop in front of a small painting. It is a portrait of a woman in a yellow dress, with long dark hair flowing lose over her shoulders as she waters a potted white orchid.

“That’s me,” I gasp. I recognize my own face in the thick brushstrokes. The dress le Comte gave me and my green eyes are vivid with color against the dark background. It is truly beautiful. I throw my arms around Vincent and pull him into a hug, which he hesitantly returns. “I love it! I can’t believe my all time favorite artist painted me without me even knowing,” I laugh. “This is a dream come true.”

“Am I really your favorite?” Vincent asks shyly once I let go, scratching the back of his head.

“Of course. That use of contrasting colors! That impasto! Ah, I love everything about your art,” I reply with a smile.

Shakespeare approaches us and takes my hand to his lips in his usual old fashioned greeting. I didn’t know he would be here, but I’m not too surprised. I remember le Comte saying he and Vincent were friends.

“Guillaume, what a surprise. Here to support Vincent?”

“That, and to speak to thee, my lovely rose.” I playfully roll my eyes. He’s only calling me that to annoy me. “Now that thou hast come to the exhibition opening, I can’t help but feel a little jealous. I am premiering a new play on Friday, and it would be an honour if thou came to see it.”

“I can’t say no if you ask me like that,” I shrug, smiling. I spot Theo in the background, discussing business as usual, and quickly excuse myself. I want to congratulate him for putting this together. It seems to be quite successful, so far. “I’ll be there, I promise.”

I let go of Shakespeare’s hand and walk away. The art collector that Theo was talking to leaves him to go look at the other paintings, and I poke his shoulder with a finger.

“This is amazing, Theo,” I say when he turns around, before standing on my toes to greet him with a peck on each cheek. “You’re a great curator. Look how many people showed up!” He has good taste, clearly, and everyone can see that. I am not as knowledgeable in what constitutes ‘good art’ as I am in how to prevent it falling apart, but I have spent enough time in museums to know what a good exhibition looks like. This one is excellent.

“Thanks, hondje,” he replies. Judging by the lack of cutting remarks, he is in a good mood. The hint of a smile on his face makes dimples appear on his cheeks, which I find absolutely adorable. Too bad I rarely see it.

I’m more of a cat person, really,” I chuckle at his nickname. Ever since the ‘snack’ debacle, he uses it more often than he does my actual name, and Vincent kindly translated it for me. Theo scrunches up his face in disgust, making me laugh, and I leave him to do his own thing. With the amount of potential buyers that came tonight, he’s going to be busy.

For the next hour or so I simply observe the rest of the paintings. That is, until a bearded man approaches me. He looks somewhat familiar, although I can’t pinpoint where I’ve seen his face before.

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle. Are you the lady in that painting over there?” He recognizes me from Vincent’s portrait.

“I am,” I nod. The stranger furrows his brow thoughtfully, staring at me, and I feel a slight blush creeping over my cheeks.

“The artist did a wonderful job of capturing your likeness. I wonder how you managed to pose so naturally,” he ponders out loud.

“Oh, I didn’t. I just went about my day like I usually would, but I had no idea he was painting me.” The man keeps staring art me in silence, so I feel the need to explain. “The artist is my friend. I have been staying in his home for the past couple weeks.”

“I love it,” he mutters through his bushy beard. “No posing, no artifice, just the natural, unadulterated gaze of a friend... I should write about that.”

The lightbulb in my head lights up after hearing his words, making my eyes widen in recognition. I know where I’ve seen him. His photograph was on the back of the book I read on the airplane when I came to Paris.

“You’re Émile Zola,” I simply state, and he laughs.

“The one and only. I take it you’ve read my work, then?”

Holy shit. My stay here keeps getting more interesting: in the past week I have made out with Leonardo da Vinci, been painted by Vincent van Gogh, and now I am talking to the Émile Zola, the father of literary naturalism. I could swoon, if I had not frozen in place.

“I absolutely adored L’Œuvre,” I blurt out, “I recently finished reading it.” I regret saying that immediately. Fuck, what if it hasn’t been published yet? I messed up.

“I am glad to hear that. It received a lot of critique when it was first published.”

I breath out in relief. That was a close call. I should probably stop freaking out about historical figures’ work if I want to avoid letting on about their future. This magnificent writer before me has no idea that in a few months he will risk his entire career to expose the Dreyfus Affair, which hasn’t even happened yet.

“Yeah, I don’t understand the hate for impressionism either,” I say, looking back at Vincent’s painting. Though most of his work is technically postimpressionist, the paintings in the exhibition fit in with the time’s most transgressive styles, but I can still see his essence peak through. I figured le Comte would want his art to blend in a little better to avoid attention. “I personally prefer it. You know, ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’, and all that. People just need to respect others’ eyes, even if they don’t see the same as theirs.”

Zola lets out a chuckle and strokes his beard.

“I like you, mademoiselle...”

“Hondje!” Before I can give him my name, Theo interrupts. “We’re going to the tavern, you coming?”

“Sure, wait for me!” I turn to Zola, smiling. “Anaïs. My name, I mean. Thanks for the chat,” I say, excusing myself with a nod. I look back over my shoulder to see the author waving at me with an amused smile.

I catch up to Theo outside, where Vincent and Shakespeare are already waiting. Arthur is there, too, even though he did not visit the exhibition.

“Fancy to see you here, dove,” he says when he sees me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Alright, I know an excellent place just two blocks from here. Let’s hurry before they run out of tables.”

“I’m actually pretty tired,” says Vincent. “I think I’ll just head home.”

Theo gives him a brotherly pat on the back, and I hug him goodbye. After he leaves, Shakespeare, who has been silent until now, chimes in.

“Alas, I must retire for the night as well.” He takes my hand to kiss it once again, and I notice Arthur and Theo share a meaningful glance. “I shall see thee on Friday, Anaïs. Farewell.”

He walks away too, leaving the three of us alone. Once I’m sure Shakespeare is too far to hear us, I immediately turn to the two men standing next to me.

“Okay, what was that about?”

“Theo hates Will,” Arthur chuckles. “He’s jealous because he spends time with Vincent, aren’t you, little brother?” he teases the other, playfully nudging him with his elbow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Theo replies with a scowl. Then he turns to me. “Do not believe a word he says, hondje. This fool wouldn’t know a dog if it bit him in the ass, let alone what someone else is thinking.”

I laugh at the two of them bickering, before I double down on my inquiry. Arthur never really explained what the deal is with Shakespeare, but it’s clear that something else is going on.

“No, but really. Why are you all so weird around him?”

“We can discuss it over a few drinks!” Arthur declares cheerfully. I know he is just trying to distract me, but his fun attitude is contagious.

“Hell yeah, drinks!” I exclaim. Theo remains silent, looking angry as always, so Arthur and I begin chanting the word until he gives in.

“Fine by me,” he finally agrees with a shrug. I close my hand and push it towards Arthur, trying to give him a fist bump, but of course, he has no idea what that is. He stares at me with a raised eyebrow, and I grab his hand, gently bend his fingers, and bump it against my own, showing him how it works.

“Is this something people do in your time?” he asks, intrigue visible on his face.

“Mh-hm,” I nod. “Sort of like a celebratory gesture. We convinced Theo to drink with us, so now...” I explain, holding up my fist again. He does the same, bringing it to touch mine. “Fist bump.”

“Huh, it’s quite curious,” Arthur muses. “Fun, even.”

“I think it looks silly,” Theo chimes in. I shrug, letting out a chuckle.

“Maybe, but I think you’re just jealous.”

He rolls his eyes and begins walking away from the gallery, with Arthur not far behind. I follow, hoping that it’s not very far. The sky has been unusually cloudy today, and it might start raining any second.

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 6

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: None

Words: 3,241

Y/N tried to avoid looking at her watch as she sat across from Matt, on the other side of his desk, taking dictation in shorthand. The last time she checked, probably five minutes ago, it was only 11:12 AM. Even as she wrote, catching every detail, her mind was willing the clock to go faster. She'd be meeting Arthur in under two hours. Her lips curved upwards at the thought of him.

Shortly after leaving him at the Newkirk station in Otisburg, after they'd gotten donuts, she'd realized the mistake she'd made in not getting his number. While it was true she'd continue to work in his area, she knew the chance she'd run into him a third time had been slim. Sure, he'd told her he lived on Anderson, wherever the hell that was, but that was it. She supposed she could have looked for his name on the buzzers of all the buildings on that street, if she was inclined to be a creep about it.

While she’d dated casually, it had been a long time since she'd experienced any sort of infatuation. She simply hadn't had time for it. In the seven or so years before she'd come to Gotham, she'd done legal work part-time and shared a house with her father, who'd been wasting away with dementia.

That had been the hardest period of her life, more difficult than her marriage amicably falling apart years prior. Her sister hadn’t been able to help much - she had a family of her own. And her mother had passed away shortly after her father’s diagnosis. It had been all on Y/N’s shoulders.

When she hadn't been at work, she'd been stuck in the daily grind of keeping her father calm, clean, and fed. It was never easy. The lack of time for herself had taken a toll on her. There were days when all she'd wanted was to be alone, but what she'd be left with was the same chores as always, and guilt for wishing it would end. When he died, she sold or donated most of her stuff and left.

Since moving, she appreciated not having anyone depend on her. Not having to answer to someone. Being on her own. Arthur had thrown a wrench into that. The feelings he’d stirred in her were unexpected. And lovely. But asking for his number then would have been leading them both on. She hadn't decided if she wanted him to pursue her - yet.

But if fate was going to throw an awkwardly charming, handsome guy at her three times, she wasn't going to argue.

The reason she'd been on that night's late train was the broken roller feed of the office photocopier. Multiple copies of motions that were over fifty pages long had to be made manually. She'd removed the high-heels from her aching feet and copied each page one by one. It had kept her aggravatingly late.

The laughter had gotten her attention, first. She'd assumed someone was having too good of a time. But when she'd seen him there, the clown with his hand over his mouth, it became obvious he was in pain. Once she saw the assholes in suits advancing on him, not helping hadn't been an option.

She'd been relieved to see Arthur again, but the circumstances made it bittersweet. The situation, the laminated card, his condition. It had clicked for her why he was shy and reserved. As soon as he'd taken off that damned wig, she'd known she would give him her business card.

"Y/N?" Matt's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you with me?"

She blinked. "Yeah, sorry.” Her knuckles popped as she stretched her fingers. “This letter is going on a little too long. My hand's starting to cramp.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. "Yeah, you're right. We'll come back to it later." Spinning around, he grabbed the oversize mug of coffee sitting on the bookshelf behind him. "You look at that Wayne file yet? Sorry we didn't get to it earlier in the week."

"I've actually been trying to figure out how to talk with you about it," she said, furrowing her brow.

"Well, that's an odd thing to say."

She tapped her pen against her legal pad. "I've looked at the file extensively. Mostly, it's motions back and forth for continuances, eminent domain filings, petty bickering...” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “But there wasn't evidence of anything being claimed by either party."

"Evidence?" he asked. "The buildings are deathtraps."

"Only if you read the Wayne Foundation's motions,” she countered. "I went to one of them on Saturday, and-"

Matt put his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "You what?"

Rolling her eyes, she waved his concern off. "No one saw me. Just an old lady getting her paper. It doesn't matter." She watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not an architect or engineer, but those buildings aren't in the shape the foundation is claiming.

"They’ve also said the buildings are almost empty, but a lot of people still live in the one I visited." She wiggled her foot under the desk before continuing. Matt wouldn’t have a heart attack, right? "They're getting letters telling them they have to leave within ninety days or forfeit their belongings."

He tapped his hand on the desk, looking vacantly at the surface. "Do you have any of these letters?"

Hurriedly, she went to her desk to grab the file. "The woman who saw me gave me this,” she said over her shoulder. “Don't worry. She doesn't know where I work." She dug out the envelope and came back, handing it over.

Glancing at her, he took out the letter. His face remained calm as he read it. "It's not from any Wayne organization," he said. "They all have 'Wayne' in the name. I've never heard of Renew Corp."

"I know, but wouldn't this be a weird coincidence?" she asked.

After a minute or so, he stuffed the document back in the envelope. "You don't know what Renew Corp. is doing. You have one letter from one person."

Slight exasperation entered her voice. "And the fact the buildings aren't as described? I've been going to City Hall on my lunch breaks the last two days to look up code violations. Only one address had them, and that was seven years ago."

Matt nodded, wringing his hands lightly. His voice was low when he eventually spoke. "I need you to stop this inquiry."

She was stunned. "I beg your pardon? Have we met?"

"I'm serious, Y/N." He tossed the envelope in the garbage can under his desk, then looked at her. Despite what he was saying, his eyes were friendly. "We have a duty to our client. That's the Wayne Foundation, not these tenants. We can't go sniffing around on their behalf."

Heat filled her as she clenched her jaw. Disappointing didn't begin to cover how this conversation was turning out. "That wasn't what I was doing," she said, measuring her words. "I was trying to back up the foundation's claims. What do you want me to do? Provide photos of peeling paint and linoleum?"

He gestured dismissively. "You don't need to worry about that. The foundation's big enough. It'll get the land. The whole thing just needs to work its way through the courts."

Y/N flinched. "Why did you put me on this case? To do more paperwork? Why did you want me to go through it?"

"For context. You're good at your job. And, yes, it's paperwork, but it's important." He huffed. "The Wayne Foundation wants to open a medical clinic in that area. It needs to go smoothly. With all the cuts going on right now, unemployment... Think of the jobs it'll provide. The services it'll offer."

She shook her head, not answering. This was beginning to feel like the old boys network in her dinky little hometown.

After some time, Matt stood. "Let's take a break."

Taking the hint, Y/N left his office, closing the door behind her. This was the first time she'd been told to let an investigation go. She knew the Wayne Foundation was their biggest client. But it frustrated her that her firm was willing to look past what she'd found. She had enough experience in the field to witness questionable legal actions. None of them had threatened hundreds of people before.

"Hey," Patricia said from behind her desk, drawing Y/N's attention. "I heard what he said. Don't listen to him. Keep doing what you're doing.”

Y/N arched a brow at her. "I wasn't planning to stop."

“Good. He doesn't have to know." Patricia chuckled. "Well, until he does."

“I’ll remember your wise words when I’m in the unemployment line,” Y/N teased.

Patricia snorted, then folded her arms over her chest. "Now, tell me more about this date you're going on."

"I don't know if it's a date. I think it's a date." Laughing, Y/N shrugged. "I wouldn't mind it being a date." She considered her next words carefully, wanting to protect Arthur's privacy. "Like I said yesterday, I helped an acquaintance on the subway with his bags.” Y/N raised a finger when she saw Patricia’s mouth open. “And yes, before you ask, he’s good-looking. But too skinny for you, I think.” She sat on the corner of Patricia’s desk. “Anyhow, he invited me to pie to thank me. Should I bring you back a slice?"

"Don't worry about me. Just don't forget to come back." Patricia gave her a wink. “Promise?"

Y/N nodded back sharply. "Promise."

~~~~~

Before going outside, Y/N observed Arthur through the lobby windows. He was pacing between the building and the lamp post on the other side of the sidewalk. The expression on his face alternated between excitement and worry. And he was smoking like a man on his way to the gallows. It was sweet, but she wanted he'd be able to relax around her.

Letting her eyes rove over him, she saw he was wearing another loose sweater, gray this time, usual collared shirt peeking out at the top. That tan jacket. Admittedly, she was hoping he'd wear something that accentuated his narrow waist, the way his vest had on the subway. She knew she shouldn't have noticed it, given what had happened. But as they'd strolled down the street together, she hadn’t been able to help herself.

Arthur straightened and flicked away his cigarette when she stepped out, his face lighting up. "Hey." His gaze held hers. "How are you?"

"This morning was trying, but," she grinned, "the day’s much better now." The smile he wore in response was the widest she'd seen on him so far. Still bashful, but enough for her to notice his dimples and one crooked tooth. Get a grip, Y/N. She swallowed hard and pointed him to where they were headed. "There's a diner around the next corner. I've never had their pie, but I'm sure it's good."

They arrived within minutes. Arthur picked a booth for two in the corner next to a window. After removing his jacket and tossing it on the seat, he reached out to help Y/N out of her coat. And she let him.

A waitress came over immediately. "What'll you two be having?"

"Blueberry pie, please," Y/N said.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Just coffee."

When the server was out of sight, Y/N leaned forward. "How are you inviting me for pie and not ordering any?" She swatted his forearm playfully.

He moved his hands to his lap. "Sorry. I'm not usually hungry."

"You'll just have to try mine," she said. The left corner of his mouth lifted at that and he gave a slight nod.

She studied him, the small scar above his upper lip, the laugh lines on his face, the way the sunlight brought out the various tones of his chestnut locks. It was hard not to notice how stiffly he was sitting. He wanted to be there - she could see that in the way his green eyes admired her. But his body still radiated apprehension. How on earth could she ease his mind? Maybe being straightforward would be best. "Don't be anxious around me, Arthur. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

His shoulders loosened a little. "I don't mean to-" He stopped abruptly when the coffee and slice of pie were delivered. Grabbing the sugar dispenser, he put three servings into his mug, concentrating on his stirring. "I'm glad you came."

It was a small sentence, but Y/N sensed the effort if had taken for him to speak it. How much work had it taken for him to ask her out yesterday? She cut a piece of her pie. "So, I know you like sweets. You're a stand-up. And you work as a clown, I guess?" After tasting it, she offered the fork to Arthur.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before he smirked and took it from her. She wondered if his fingers skimming against hers were intentional. "That's my job. I'm a party clown. But I'm thinking of focusing on my comedy more." He took a bite. "This is good."

"It’s my favorite," she said. "You should tell me a joke. I’d love to hear one."

"All right." His forehead creased in concentration. "Um. Why did the old man like having insomnia?"

Y/N chewed thoughtfully, wondering where this was going. "Hm. I don't know. Why?"

"Because he didn't have to sleep with his wife." Arthur's eyes flicked to hers, his eyebrows raised slightly.

A short, sharp laugh escaped her. The joke hadn't disappointed. And his sudden boldness surprised her. She wanted to see more of it. "That was a good one, Mr. Fleck."

His face softened at that. After a moment, he asked, "What's your job?"

"I'm a paralegal." When she tried to offer the fork to him again, he politely declined.

"What's that?" he asked.

Good. If he didn't know what her job was, he'd probably not been in any legal trouble. "I work at a law firm. Prepare for hearings and trials. Do lots of paperwork. I investigate, too, though I think it annoys my boss." A small snort escaped her. "I go to meetings. It's all very mundane."

Arthur placed another cigarette between his lips. "I don't think I could ever do a desk job."

"It's not for everyone," she said, waving his comment off. "And I work too much. But I love it." She grabbed a napkin from the nearby dispenser and wiped her mouth. "Do you have any hobbies? Besides comedy, I mean."

After lighting up and taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. "When I'm not working, I mostly take care of - of my mother,” he said gently.

A tightness entered her chest. "I'm sorry she’s not well."

"She's been sick a long time." He rested his face on his hand. "Her disability isn't enough to cover the rent and everything, so I live with her." His fingers tapped his cheek. "It's easier that way. And with my condition..."

Unsure how to continue, or even if she should, Y/N folded her hands together on the table. "You don't owe me an explanation. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, I don’t mind." He shook his head. "It’s just- I don't talk to people a lot. Outside of work."

She tapped her foot against his under the table. "You're fine," she said. He huffed and ran a hand over his hair, toothy grin spreading across his face. Her heart quickened at that. She lowered her voice, leaning closer. "May I ask you about what was on your card? Your condition?"

“What about it?” he asked softly.

“How long have you had it?”

Arthur straightened, taking a drag off his cigarette. The smoke curled around his face as he frowned at the table. “As long as I can remember.”

She bit her lip. “Is there anyway to help?”

“Changing positions. Breathing exercises. Distraction. They don’t always.” Closing his eyes, he let out a sad chuckle. “It happens at the worst times.”

“Like on the train?”

He pushed his mug away as he signed. “Like on the train.”

Y/N felt like an ass, a well-meaning jerk. She’d been too flippant the other night when she’d told him, simply, that his laughter was “fine.” Sitting here with him, it was obvious his condition caused him distress. And now her genuine attempt at getting to know him had made him uncomfortable. The light mood when he’d picked her up had been replaced with unease. She reached out to touch the back of his left hand as it rested on the table.

His eyes shot to hers; she could hear his sharp intake of breath.

“It’s all right,” she intoned. Smiling, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It doesn’t bother me.”

A sad, hiccuped laugh left his throat. His thumb caressed the web between her thumb and forefinger. “Sometimes I think I imagined you. That you can’t be real.”

Y/N snickered at that. “Haven’t my questions annoyed you enough to know I’m here?”

He stamped out his cigarette in the table’s built-in ashtray, then got up. “That isn’t the word I’d use.”

After she stood, he helped her with her coat. “What word would you use?” she asked.

The sidelong glance he gave her made her blush profusely.

“Do you have to go back to work already?” The disappointment on his face was plain to see. He pulled out his wallet and placed a few dollar bills on the table.

“No, I have some extra time. Help me walk off the pie,” she said.

He grinned, clearly happy to oblige.

~~~~~

When Y/N returned to work, she leaned back on the lobby door and giggled. Dammit. She needed to pull herself together before going back to her office. Taking the stairs to the third floor would be best.

She’d enjoyed the date (it had definitely been a date) with Arthur even more than expected. After she’d expressly told him his condition wasn’t a black mark, he’d opened up. She liked hearing him speak, wondering what else was hiding under that timidity of his. He’d even tried to crack a couple more jokes. They’d been corny, not particularly funny, and she’d groaned instead of laughed. He’d looked confused at first, but he seemed to understand she was delighted.

He’d pointed out a few of his favorite spots in the district, places she wouldn’t have ever found on her own. A comedy club here, a consignment shop there. Music had come up. Surprisingly, he’d said outright that he was a good dancer. Dancing was a mystery to her. She couldn’t even clap in time. But it helped explained the grace he sometimes displayed.

At the end, when he’d accompanied her back to her firm’s building, he’d looked at her like he wanted to kiss her. He’d either been too shy or respectful to do it, and simply nodded his goodbye. Either way, that was what sealed it for her. She didn’t repeat the mistake of letting him go without getting his address and phone number.

It had been a long time since she wanted to really know someone, to lighten their day and have their presence brighten hers. It felt a little alarming - but mostly wonderful.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @clowndaddyfleck​ @stephieraptorr​

[smokeybrand]

Breaking the Rules

So the Snyder Cut finally dropped. Four hours of Snyderisms like slow-mo, dumb kinetic camera work, and relentless edge. Now, I'm a card-carrying Marvel shill. Been real transparent about it for years. Marvel is my sh*t and Spider-Man is my favorite superhero. That said, i do like DC. I always give them a fair shake. Hell, my favorite capeflick is The Dark Knight. I even like Watchmen and that was a slog to get through. I’ve seen every film in the DCEU and they have left me wanting. A lot of DC heads write off my opinion because of my Marvel bias but let’s be serious; The DCEU is inferior to the MCU in almost every way. As it is, the DCEU needs to be better. It needs better storytellers. It needs a better plan. It needs a Feige. Snyder is not that dude and i don’t think Wan is either. I think WB and ATT have to figure out a way to coalesce this sh*t because it’s all wonky, especially now that we have this Snyder Cut. I’ve already reviewed a Justice League before so all of the observations i made about performances in that, stand. This is more what i think this version does better and worse.

The Better

This opening is much better and makes more sense. That Super Death Wail as the principal genesis of Steppenwolf’s conflict, the thing that wakes that first Motherbox, makes way more sense that whatever the f*ck Whedon did.

This thing definitely looks so much more gorgeous that that first run. Zack Snyder can’t plot a story to save his life but this motherf*cker can compose a shot, for real. Snyder is an idea man, a cat that just wants to make cool looking sh*t, but this ain’t the medium for that. You can have all the beautiful shots in the world but if they are tied together by a shoestring of a narrative, then it’s just polished sh*t, you know?

The extended Aquaman intro was outstanding. Whedon didn’t let this scene breath and, seeing it as it was intended, that was a mistake. Seeing this version of Justice League kind of makes Josstice League in it’s entirety, a mistake. It’s weird that this was cut because it’s so good and shows so much more of Arthur.

Jeremy Iron’s Alfred continues to be my second favorite Alfred after Michael Caine. Sorry, Michael Gough...

Wonder Woman’s first scene in this, the one with the terrorists, is ridiculous. This one scene is a perfect example of the difference between the two versions of this film. Snyder’s is better, if way more brutal than it needed to be. Still, i love the warrior version of Diana so I'm good with this.

Speaking of Amazons, Snyder, apparently, put them in more clothes this time around? I couldn’t really see for sure because of the color correction but it didn’t seem like they weren’t rocking those iron bikinis like in the Whedon cut. I think Joss Whedon might be a bit more problematic than we think. Between the half naked chicks, the way he kept sexualizing Diana, the fact that there are no people of color in his version or the way he shortchanged the entirety of Cyborg’s plot... Breh.

Steppenwolf is SO much more menacing in this version of the movie. Dude feels like a force, like a proper threat an not just some stop-gap for something better. Ol’ Wolfie was a decent antagonist for an initial run at an Avengers-esque team up for the DCEU. Definitely more Loki this time around and less Ultron like the first time.

Also, the Parademons look much more dope. The first time, they looked like fodder. This time, they actual felt like a force, like a horde.

Hey, we got an Atom sighting!

Not a ton of Iris West but enough to wet my appetite. Anytime i get to see Kiersey Clemons in stuff, I'm happy. Having it tied to an outstanding sequence demonstrating Flash’s powers was just icing on the cake. Seriously, Snyder did a great job visualizing Barry’s abilities. That scene where he saved everyone from the debris and then the subtle reversing of time; All of it was dope to see.

Are those Starros that Steppenwolf is using to “interrogate” the cats with Motherbox stink on them? They look like little mechanical Starros. I hope they’re Starros.

Lots of Cyborg stuff. Like, intricate Cyborg stuff. The sh*t Whedon cut of Vic was instrumental to the coherency of this story and dude was just like, “Nah.” It’s no wonder that version of the movie doesn’t make any f*cking sense.

Hey, we got a Spectre sighting! Nice.

The explanation for the Motherboxes and their mcguffin-ness goes a long way to soothing the whole “resurrecting Superman” thing. Snyder basically tells the audience they’re magic boxes that can do anything because of magic-technology. It’s a little ridiculous considering what Motherboxes actually do in the comics but whatever. It makes sense in this universe i guess.

All of the action scenes are better. All of them. Snyder is nothing if not a cat that can actualize a dope punch-out. Dude can’t get out of his own way when telling a story but if you need a fight scene, Snyder is definitely your guy.

Speaking of, that climax was WAY better. It carried far more weight and there were times when the heroes felt like they could lose. There’s an unrelenting tension that grips you hard and doesn’t let up until it finally does. I appreciated this way more than the first one, even if it’s dumb edgy for no reason.

The Worst

Zack still doesn’t understand these characters, man. It’s very apparent to me that a lot of this is just window dressing for kind of a Zack Snyder fan fic version of DC and that’s fine i guess? Sh*t’s not my cup of tea but a great many people seem to like it. Dude’s writing can definitely be tighter and he can skew a little more toward the heart of these characters but i mean, it’s called Zack Snyder’s Justice league for a reason.

The Snyderisms, man, they are all over this thing. Look, i just don’t like how Zack makes movies. Too much style, not enough substance, or rather, not enough focus. He has a ton of great ideas but gets too bogged down in how sh*t looks, or tumbles down his rabbit hole of concept but never expresses any of them clearly enough. Outside of 300 or Dawn of the Dead, this film is probably the most focused I've ever seen Snyder and it’s still kind of all over the place yet, never where it needs to be.

So many plot holes, man. Less than before, but so many threads left untied.

This thing didn’t need to be four hours long. Not even close. There were several shots that i thought could have been cut. Like, that three hour version which got the standing ovation was probably the best version of Justice League and we’ll never see it. This version is definitely better than the theatrical run but f*ck is it long. You really feel that sh*t, too.

Cyborg still looks gross to look at. You’d think they’d try and make his weird, angular, body look a bit better upon the redo but nope. This what we get i guess.

Also, why the f*ck the Atlanteans sound British? Why they make Amber Heard do that accent? She can’t do that accent, man. You’re actually asking a chick who’s professionally pretty to act and she can’t act. She’s just pretty. That actually brings up an interesting question; Is Aquaman canon to this universe because Mera in that doesn’t have an accent and her Pops is still alive. This one has an accent and her parents are dead. Or maybe the accent makes it easier to recast Heard later with a British actress? Maybe the Mother of Dragons really is about to be the Queen of the Seas?

Why is this Knightmare sequence in here? Sure, it was awesome to see, pure fan service, but this is the blue balls of blue balls because we don’t have a movie to follow this one. This is it. This is all the Justice League we’re getting. There is no part two or whatever. Why even hint at something more?

The Verdict

There’s a lot to like about this version of Justice League. It is, hands down, better than Josstice League in almost every way. Sh*t is a better film, man, and should have been what we got to begin with. WB did Snyder a disservice by letting him go and then letting Whedon butcher his movie. I don’t like Snyder’s take on DC. I think it’s try-hard, edgelord, nonsense but it is it’s own thing and i commend him for that. Dude has a vision and I'll never take away from from a creative’s inspiration. That said, this thing was a slog to get through. It’s definitely better than what we got before but it’s still not that great and it’s way too long. Three hours is more than enough to tell this story if you make prudent cuts. Still, I’m glad it exists and, if you’re a fan of this world, a fan of Snyder’s work, you’ll love it. For me, as a cat who has no skin in this game, I'm not all that impressed. Per usual, Snyder has too many ideas and that leaves the plot unfocused and meandering at times. In a genre that is predicated on storytelling, you can’t be a bad storyteller like that and just gloss over it with spectacle. That’s disingenuous. At the end of the day, it was entertaining. It was pretty to see. It was a Snyder film.

[icannotseemyself]

Prompt

Prompt: Soulmate fic where Sherlock deletes his first name because he hates it so much. But then he meets John, and hopes that he’s the same John on his wrist, and gets upset when John’s wrist says William. And then the two of them are just being idiots, pining for each other, until Mycroft steps in once he realizes Sherlock deleted his first name.

DISCLAIMER: This is the first fanfic I’ve ever posted here on this site, especially of Johnlock. Also, this is inspired by @fangirllibrarian. I will also answer any questions I have about personal headcanons I’ve written in there in the comments.

From a young age, William Sherlock Scott Holmes has despised his name. Not the Sherlock part, or even Scott, but the William. What felt like half of the kids in his year (more like 7, but STILL) shared the name, and Sherlock wanted to be different. Not different like everyone else saw him different (the odd child with the smart mouth and flapping hands), but original. So at the age of 7, old enough to make decisions on his own, Mummy, he changes his name, and only goes by Sherlock Holmes. His parents were upset at first (we picked that name for a reason, honey), but Mycroft humors him, and that’s enough. Eventually, everyone calls him Sherlock, and he no longers holds onto that 7-letter name, throwing it away in one of his Mind Palace’s many trash compartments. Later, he’d refer to this as deleting, but until the age of 13, he’d called it binning the useless information.

As he gets older, he observes those around him, watching as the pressure for the damn names to match becomes more and more severe. He knows the name written on his wrist, in small, cramped handwriting. John. Of course, of the Johns he’s met over the years, none have been memorable, and none had the name Sherlock written on their wrist in his loopy handwriting. By the time he graduated secondary school and had started his degree in chemistry, he stopped looking and caring, more focused on everything else around him.

He started wearing long sleeves to cover his track marks, and by happy accident manages to ignore the name as well. John may as well be another stranger on the street.

People he knew when he got high got clean for their soulmates. Sherlock found that preposterous. When he did get clean, it was for himself. Shortly after, as per the deal, he began his work as consulting detective for New Scotland Yard.

And he was fine. He was Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. No John, but perhaps it was better that way. Who knew how this John would change him, for the better or for the worse. He banished the thought of the name from his mind, and focused on the Work.

Until the day he met John Watson. Even during their first meeting, Sherlock had felt a… spark, a connection, he didn’t know what to call it. All he knew was that his heart got a bit jumpy when John smiled at him, and a warm feeling burned his chest everytime John did something that amused him.

They never really talked about the soulmate thing. John deflected any possible hint at him being anything other than a rigid heterosexual, and Sherlock had shot him down, despite his heart telling him not to, that night at Angelo’s. Sometimes, when Sherlock’s alone, he kicks himself for what he said. “Married to his work.” What a stupid thing to say.

So John never asked, and Sherlock never told (though Sherlock himself hoped), and Sherlock never asked and John never told, until one day, Sherlock had just returned from a case alone (John had work) to find John passed out in his chair. It was obvious that John was waiting for him. A half-empty cup of cold tea sat next to the chair, and a book layed on the floor, where it had fallen out of John’s lap.

Sherlock smirked to himself, and after relieving himself of his coat, manage to lift John up without waking him and carry him to his own bedroom. As he tucked the older man in, John’s sweater sleeve rose up slightly, and Sherlock caught a glimpse of the name written. William. Not Sherlock.

Disappointed and depressed, Sherlock left the room quickly, not wanting a potentially waking John to see him upset. Now it was never an opportunity for him. John would probably be happy with this William. And Sherlock… Sherlock would move on. Not find another John, because Sherlock didn’t believe in another John. He just wanted his John.

The next morning, John awkwardly thanked Sherlock for moving him to the bed, and Sherlock said nothing.

Mycroft stopped by one afternoon, while John was at work, and Sherlock had no cases. The usual banter had no bite to it, Sherlock noted, and Mycroft was quick to agree.

“And the good doctor? How is he?” Mycroft asked.

“Fine,” Sherlock said, if a bit too quickly. Mycroft’s eyebrow rose.

“Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.”

“I’m aware, Mycroft.”

“And yet you still care about him. I understand, believe me, Sherlock I do. I believe you taken a peek at the name. I would have thought you’d been delighted.”

“Why would I be delighted in my flatmate’s soulmate? He hasn’t even found him.”

Mycroft rolls his eyes. “Dear lord, you truly are dense.”

“Am not,” Sherlock retorted. Mycroft just rolled his eyes again, tapped his umbrella on the ground, and turned to leave, before turning back.

“Oh, mummy’s insisted you come over for supper. Something about a family announcement.”

“Send me an email, Mycroft, I’m busy.”

“I think this is one you’ll want to be there for. Perhaps I’ll even bring John around. If Mrs. Hudson reminds you of our mother, then I can’t imagine what Mummy will do when she meets your… friend.”

And with that Mycroft left Sherlock to ponder this, formulating his plan in his mind.

Once John finished his shift, he quickly strutted out of the hospital. Today was the day. Maybe Sherlock wasn’t William, but William would certainly never be Sherlock, and John was tired of pining. He was going to confess his feelings and be done with it all.

Of course, this plan was ruined the second he saw the black town car parked at the kerb. John contemplated not getting in, before thinking of the famous Holmes wrath. Better now than later.

When he stepped in, he expected Anthea/Lenore/Calliope at his side. Instead, it was the elder Holmes brother himself.

“Can I help you?” John asked as the car began moving.

“Indeed,” Mycroft stated. “I’ve deduced that you’re finally going to tell Sherlock how you feel.”

John didn’t want to know how he’d deduced it. “Yes. What?”

Mycroft smiled slightly, before turning serious and monotone again. “And your soulmate? What of him?”

“My soulmate is none of your business.”

“My brother is always my business, and if you intend to break his heart, I don’t pretend that you don’t know what I can do to you.”

“I understand perfectly. Yes, I’m not running around with Sherlock on my wrist, but I’m running around with him on my mind, by my side, and in my heart. William will understand.”

Mycroft, seemingly satisfied with this proclamation, sat back in his seat.

“Where are we going?” John asked, noticing the buildings outside turn from the office and apartment buildings of central London, and instead become the large estates and homes of Belgravia.

“You’ll find out,” Mycroft said.

Eventually the car rolled to a stop in front of a large house with a large garden. Mycroft led John inside, where John was greeted by two people who shared resemblance to the man he loves. Sherlock and Mycroft’s parents.

Jean-Louise and Arthur Holmes doted on him practically from the minute they stepped foot in the house, and Mycroft took the opportunity to take a few secret pictures to incite Sherlock into joining the party. Indeed, a mere 10 minutes later, Sherlock waltzed in unceremoniously, coat slightly dripping, as it had started to rain, as it often does in London.

“Sherlock! I didn’t know you were coming!” John said, turning towards him.

“You… you didn’t?” Sherlock said, turning to Mycroft. Mycroft just shrugged.

Quickly, Mycroft managed to usher them all into the living room, and suggested Sherlock show John around.

“He doesn’t need to look around, we won’t be here long.”

“Sherlock, don’t be rude.”

“I wouldn’t mind a look around, actually,” John interrupted, looking at Sherlock. “If you’re willing.” Sherlock just rolled his eyes and walked away, obviously expecting John to follow him by the look back he conspicuously made before climbing the stairs.

As Mycroft entertained the parents on the lower level, Sherlock made quick work of showing John around. He did pause, however, when it came to his room.

“This is yours?”

It was messy, but messy in the Sherlockian way 221B was always messy. Pictures of various experiments, composers and scientists.

“It’s weird.”

“It isn’t,” John argued, turning towards him. “It’s wholy and entire you. Sherlock, there’s something I was planning on saying tonight before your brother showed up. I know I’ve always denied any and all attraction for the same sex, but I’ve found that you are the exception. Despite everything that I’ve said, I like you a lot, and would like to take this relationship from flat-mates, friends, colleagues, to something more. If you’re open to it.”

Sherlock’s heart was jumping, screaming for joy practically. “John, I-- I don’t know what to say. I mean, I like you too. A lot. Probably way too much. I’ll admit, there were days when I would beg for the John written on my wrist to be yours.”

“I sense a but.”

Sherlock’s heart sunk as he remembered seeing John’s wrist. “But, I saw yours. I’m sure you’ll be very happy with William, and I don’t want to be the reason you don’t find your soulmate.”

“Sherlock--”

“I’m sorry.”

Sherlock turned away and practically ran down the stairs towards the door. Unfortunately, Mycroft stopped him.

“There’s something you both should know,” Mycroft said, loud enough that John, who’d made it halfway down the stairs at some point, could hear. “At first I was confused myself, but then I realized. Sherlock, you’ve deleted something rather important about your past.”

“I don’t have time for games, Mycroft. What?”

“While my name is completely original, your birth name is not Sherlock. In fact, Sherlock is your middle name.”

“What?” Sherlock asked. John was also confused, probably more so.

“It’s obvious, Sherlock, really. You “deleted” as you so eloquently put, that your birth name, and the name that your soulmate would carry on his wrist, is William.”

A pause. Time seemed to freeze for a moment. Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

“Say that again.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, less enthusiastic about repeating himself than Sherlock usually is. “You were born William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

A smile broke out on Sherlock’s face, and before anyone could do anything, Sherlock turned and closed the gap, standing so close he could feel the heat of John. “I don’t take back anything I said up there. William would truly be lucky to have you.”

“Come here, William,” John said, throwing his arms around Sherlock’s neck and pulling him in. For first kisses, this was by far the best one.

[arigatouiris]

revenge is a fool’s game // arthur morgan — [03]

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

word count: 1895

warnings: strong violence, emotional distress, mentions of torture, rape and sexual abuse, explicit sexual references, a whole lotta angst, cowboy stuff;

notes: i am so so sorry for the late af update!! things got carried away at work and i was trying to finish my peter parker story (sighhhh). anyway, this is a short chapter, but do expect an update pretty soon~

not following a taglist for this, i can’t seem to keep track of people who ask so just check on my masterlist~ 

masterlist in bio~

Chapter Three: Ain’t No Foolin’ John Marston

○

(y/n) woke up, just before day break, and panicked. She looked around inside her tent, and breathed slowly before realizing she was actually panting. Her hair was a mess—and she was glad she had cut it to a boy’s regular messy cut, but she wasn’t wearing her bandages. 

Without her bandages, her breasts would pop out. She was big enough to alert the people around her that she wasn’t a boy but a boy in disguise. Without question, she quickly took her shirt off and began to tie the bandages around her chest, tightly. Each time, she felt she tied a bit too tighter—forever compressing her chest to one without breasts.

She hated that she had to do this; she hated living in disguise. She would normally love scents and everything that came with being a woman, but now—now things were different and unforgiving. Her long hair that she had adored once before was trimmed away, and her cheeks were unmoisturized beyond control what used to be soft and smooth. She missed being a woman, but now she had no choice.

After tying the bandages around her, she put her shirt back on. Through the tiny holes in her bottle green tent, she observed that it was breaking day. She had a tiny mirror using which she fixed her hair—and turned into a boy again.

Through Dutch Van der Linde, she would find Colm o’Driscoll, and through Colm she would find a slight bit of redemption. Colm was someone she would take vengeance for herself. He had nothing to do with her brother, but had done something terrible to her. Words and lies were carved carefully to sting her in such a fashion that the sting would never heal, and what remained was a ghost of a person with an inability to move on from the pain caused. She had a plan, and no sympathy and no compassion came close to bringing her down from what she saw needed to be done.

“Riley!” 

She heard Susan Grimshaw’s voice call from outside. Her heart sometimes ached when she heard her brother’s name, but she was her brother now. 

“Come out here and gimme a hand, boy.” She didn’t sound mean, she sounded nice, as a matter of fact.

Riley stepped out of the small tent, looking timid. He blinked a couple of times and noticed Mrs. Grimshaw smiling at him. The smile reminded him of his own mother’s, but Riley tried not to think of anything regarding his past (her past).

“The horses need feedin’, boy. Here,” Susan motioned toward the stack of hay. “Take this to them horses over there. Make yerself useful here and you’ll belong quite alright.” Susan smiled and Riley nodded.

“My,” Susan sighed and said softly. “I sometimes forget ya can’t talk. Poor soul.”

The only reason (y/n) chose to leave Riley dumb was because her voice was far too feminine to hide. She was always told that she had a beautiful voice when she sang, but it sounded too much like a woman for a man.

While Riley was moving one haystack after another toward the horses, he observed that there were eyes on him. He paused for a second and noticed a boy watching his every move—unashamedly, not looking away even after Riley caught him doing so. The boy’s name, he could recall, was John Marston. He was around fifteen years of age, and far too aggressive for his own good. Riley watched him staring at him for a brief while before tilting his head a bit and getting back to work. It had been close to a few days since Riley joined the Van der Linde gang, and while even Arthur stayed out of insulting the boy, Riley noticed John’s hesitance in talking to him.

“Give him some time,” Hosea had said, when he first observed this behavior. “The boy’s got a nasty past.”

Nasty past, (y/n) thought before piling the hay carefully in the stack where it was supposed to go. I understand nasty pasts.

A moment later, Hosea approached Riley and grabbed the boy’s arm. Riley’s face turned pink—(y/n) still not used to being touched so freely by a man twice her age, but tried hard not to show any signs of discomfort.

“Need to talk to ya, son.” Hosea’s tone scared Riley. Instantly, he knew that it was something related to the confession he had made about the o’Driscolls.

Riley blinked at Hosea, while being led inside the white tent. Arthur was standing by the entrance, no expression on his face. Arthur noticed Riley and gave him a small nod, I think he understands that I’m a member here now, she told herself. He hated me before, she thought before blinking a couple of times. Arthur grunted once before straightening his posture. Dutch was entering the tent.

“So, son,” Dutch said before continuing, “You hate Colm,”

Riley didn’t nod. She didn’t hate Colm, it wasn’t hate. It was hard to explain without telling them some part of the story, and that was what he didn’t want to share.

“And you want him dead.” Dutch stated facts.

Riley blinked.

“The thing is, we don’t like him all that much either,” Hosea said, in a calculative manner.

“We’re teamed up wit’ em right now,” Arthur said, sighing. “Dutch and Colm had a… what ya call, a ‘partnership’ o’ sorts.”

Riley didn’t understand. He made a face, which conveyed his exact emotions.

“See Colm’s got a brother, Wyatt.”

(y/n)’s blood boiled. Oh, I know Wyatt o’Driscoll damn well, she thought before frowning. Hosea noticed the sudden change in Riley’s face, but chose not to comment on it. There were some stories each of them carried, with no want or need to divulge them. What he wanted to comment on was the fact that Riley’s wish to murder Colm intersected with their own wish to end their partnership.

“Wyatt’s got his eyes set on Dutch,” Hosea said, sighing bitterly. “Wyatt is plannin’ on handing Dutch over to the authorities for the bounty.”

“Let him try! I can rip his head off his skull and still make him see the end of it.” Dutch said, sarcastically, with a weird grin on his face.

What Riley didn’t understand was why they were telling him this. He knew that Dutch didn’t like Colm, and he knew that they felt the same way about all of the o’Driscolls, so why were they telling him this plan?

“We kill Wyatt first.” Dutch said.

(y/n)’s heart picked up pace. Wyatt was fourth in her list, ending his life meant getting closer to Colm. She nodded once before taking her notebook once.

Wyatt has this horse he loves. We get to his horse and we get to him. He’s a dumbass with very little that he cares about.

Hosea laughed as he read out Riley’s note. “This is why we needed you, boy! Somethin’ tells me you’ve been on the insides of the o’Driscolls’ party!”

It’s the other way around, Hosea, (y/n) thought bitterly, forcefully blinking tears away. Arthur watched the boy, before noticing the sun fall on the boy’s shirt. There was a dark patch in his chest, which looked almost made up. It was like he was wearing another shirt inside the one that he could see. Arthur blinked before clearing his throat and looking away, it wasn’t his business.

“Alright. We get to his horse. Can you identify his horse, boy?”

Riley nodded.

“Dutch,” Arthur said, before looking at Riley. “How can we know we can trust ‘im?”

Riley’s heart dropped. This was one question that he was hoping no one would ask. It was a good question, she had to admit, because how can anyone be sure that Riley himself wasn’t an o’Driscoll?

“Actually, that’s a great point. What if Colm sent you here and if this is all a trap?” Dutch spoke out loud.

Riley’s eyes filled with tears. He wrote in his notebook.

I had a sister. Colm and his brother raped her every night after saving her life one day. They raped her and ruined her life. She is no woman no more. I’m doing this for her. And I’m doing this for myself.

I’m doing this for you, brother. Rebecca’s voice was for herself only.

“I.. I’m sorry to hear that, son.” Dutch said, sympathetically.

Hosea patted the boy’s shoulder before saying, “You don’t have to say anything more than that, Riley.”

Arthur, on the other hand, was the most shocked. He didn’t once think Riley could have gone through so much. After having cared for Mary so much, he understood so much about how hard women had it for themselves. Their torture would always, always exceed the pain that anyone can give to a man. Women were strong, and hurting them came easy.

Rape, Arthur thought, was unforgivable.

He watched Riley get back to his chores, sad face and sadder eyes, and a soft spot bore in his heart for the boy. To lose a sister the way he had, must have taken more than just anger for him to come huntin’ after them o’Driscolls, Arthur thought.

○

That evening, Riley sat alone by the fire. He was thinking about what he had shared with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur, and he wondered if it was the right thing to have done. They wouldn’t have trusted me, (y/n) thought. Arthur is suspicious of anyone new, she sighed. A moment later, she felt someone sit beside her.

It was John. He had a scowl on his face, and his hair was a mess. From the past few days, she’s noticed that John was what they’d call, ‘a problem child’. He was naughty and barely did any chore around the camp. Susan would have to scream at him repeatedly to have him eat.

“I know you’re a girl.” John said, glaring at Riley.

Her blood froze. She suddenly felt very exposed, but this was a fifteen year old child and this old jibe was thrown off the window by Arthur the first time it had happened. Riley turned to look at John and glared back, trying hard to keep the glare on and not let the fear show.

“You’ve got breasts, and you ain’t got no penis.” John said, softly.

Riley shook his head and turned away, red faced—but in front of the fire, one couldn’t tell. She hoped John wouldn’t be able to hear her rapidly beating heart.

“They might think I’m some stupid hillbilly,” John said, “But I ain’t gonna ever call a woman a man.”

Riley took out his notebook and hoped John could read.

Go away, John. I don’t have to prove shit to you.

“Alright, ma’am. I know no one ain’t gonna believe me, but I know yer secret. Riley or if that’s what your name is. You ain’t a man. Yer a lady. A lady dressed like a hillbilly. Don’t know why an’ I don’t care. But you ain’t foolin’ me.” John said, before getting up and walking away.

Riley waited for a moment. He hoped no one heard this conversation, and he hoped no one cared for John’s words. Because of the way he behaves, no one took him seriously. However, John’s hunch, if it was a hunch, was right. Riley was no man.

(y/n) was scared for her life now.

[magicjesuscup]

Can you do headcanons for Artoria realizing she's falling for her master?

I know I scream about how much I love Siegfried on here a bunch, but King Arthur is my favorite (all of them. Saber Artoria. Lancer Artoria. Prototype Arthur), so I had a lot of fun thinking about this one. I’m assuming this ask is about Saber Artoria (although, it would be true of Arthur and most of it applicable to Lancer Artoria too). Sorry this took so long. I wrote it in Word and it came out to be about 4 pages. OTL

Kinda spoilers for E Pluribus Unum singularity ahead.

Artoria is the last person to find out about her own crush. Literally everyone else in Chaldea knows except her.

Merlin is the first to know and it has provided him endless entertainment.

Her crush happens in stages...

Stage 1: Admiration

Her feelings start as admiration. You weren’t at all prepared to be the sole master in a mission to save all of humanity, but you were always choosing to do the right thing.

If you’re excited about saving the world, she’ll tell you, “I can appreciate your enthusiasm, but you should keep in mind that all that’s required of you is that you do your best. Don’t create expectations of yourself that you will be unable to fulfill, least you never forgive your shortcomings or regret ever having taken up your cause.”

If you don’t have noble reasons for saving the world and ask if Artoria (the king of ethics) is disappointed, she’ll respond, “No. Your actions are just, and you are a fair master; that’s all that can be asked of you.” When you seem unconvinced, she sits next to you and adds, “You and Mash are the first to rayshift to each singularity, and you stay close by the battlefield to issue commands. Knowing you are doing these things despite not wanting to is admirable. When you summon me to your side, I find pride in telling friend and foe of the singularity alike that you are my master.”

Flirting here is virtually impossible since you’re still building a relationship with her and might not even have a crush yourself yet.

Stage 2: Super Protective

Artoria then becomes very protective of you. Women in her time weren’t expected to take up arms, so she doesn’t suggest you learn to fight so you can protect yourself. She may be a king, but she is also a knight in your service. She’ll protect you, even if it means her life. Artoria is determined to keep this vow; she will not fail.

She’s also ready to fight with Diarmuid over this. He insists, “The safest place for Master is the farthest she can get from the battlefield.” To which Artoria responds, “She relies on us, her servants, for protection. If you wish to call your abilities to keep her safe into question, you are free to do so, but do not question mine.” Luckily, Diarmuid had no intentions of challenging the difference in their moral code, so they agreed to disagree.

She spends a lot of her time playing the part of the perfect, chivalrous knight for you. Artoria starts by doing things like opening doors for you or pulling out your chair. She’ll stop doing those things if you say it’s unnecessary or do something else if you say something like, “If you wouldn’t mind, I need your help more with [a thing].” She’ll also step in if she sees any male servant making you uncomfortable. Remember the E Pluribus Unum singularity? Let’s pretend that Fionn was talking to you instead of Mash. You’ve never seen somebody be challenged to a fight so fast. Artoria flew in out of no where (you seriously have no idea where she came from), and smacked him with her gauntlet…The metal side... Anyway, after Fionn looses but before he and Diarmuid leave, Artoria gives them a lecture on how your freedom belongs to you and no one is entitled to that. Fionn makes some comment like, “I suppose if I want her I’ll have to win her from you first.” Yeah, remember when I said everybody notices Artoria crushing on you except her? I meant literally everyone. Then Fionn looks at you

If you’re aware of Artoria’s crush, you smile and shrug. I mean, what are you supposed to do about it?

If you’re as oblivious as Artoria, you give him a confused glance. Fionn then rolls his eyes so hard they almost fall out of his head.

When the Knights of the Round Table notice their king protecting you so fiercely, they follow suit.

If you’re kind, this is the time to flirt with her. The conversation might go something like this:

You: Artoria, you’re the perfect knight. If you’re not careful, I might fall in love with you.

Artoria: I doubt that. I’ve never had that kind of effect on women.

You: Seriously?

Artoria: Not to my knowledge, no.

Artoria then moves the conversation on to Guinevere, who she seems to like talking about. Flirting with Artoria here gives you the advantage of learning things about her since she’s not too flustered to talk to you.

Stage 3: Semi-Awareness

For some reason Artoria can’t let Fionn’s comment go. She keeps thinking about it and you, and gah! What does it all mean!? Clearly she’s just being the best servant she can for you because you have similar goals and it would be dishonorable for her to half ass her efforts in helping you…Right? Right!? So why is it every time you smile she feels her stomach doing somersaults? When she offers her hand to escort you, why is she so aware of how close you are to her?

She insists on being alone if there’s a time she needs to remove her clothes for any reason. You don’t think too much of this though since you thought she should’ve sought that privacy all along. You two used to be in the same room while you changed (adhering to what you called “locker room rules” where both of you would facing opposite directions). Now Saber insisted on waiting outside the room.

If you’re mean (or like to be consistent), this is where you flirt with her with something like this:

You: *while changing* You don’t have to leave, Artoria. We’re facing different walls, so it doesn’t matter if you stay.

Artoria: In that case, I think I should stand guard at the door.

You: *pretending to ignore what she said* Although, I guess it would be ok if you turned around; it’s not like I’d know. *You hear the door shut really quickly as she leaves*

You won’t learn anything about Artoria here, but you will get to see her face turn 6 shades of red.

Step 4: Denial and Avoidance

There’s a slow progression of your sleeping arrangements. First, Artoria stands in the corner to protect you while you sleep. That doesn’t even last the first night because it weirds you out. You convince her to sit on the side of the bed. You start out sleeping as you normally do. But night after night, you edge closer and closer to Artoria until you sleep curled around her. When questioned about it, Artoria says it won’t stop her from being able to jump up to protect you if necessary, so you can sleep that way if you want. One night you see that Artoria had fallen asleep sitting up. The following day, you acquire pajamas for her. She was confused when you presented them to her. You explain that you want to try something different and invite her to sleep next to you. She lays down but protests that she won’t be able to protect you if she can’t see you. Laying next to her, you reach over and hold her hand and say, “There. Now you can feel that I’m next to you.” She turns her head away from you, but you can see that the tips of her ears are red. She replies with, “I suppose I can.” After a few nights of this, the Knights of the Round Table decide to take shifts guarding your door so their king can relax and enjoy himself. (Note: They have no idea what you two are doing, so they’re left to their wild, sometimes dirty imaginations.) It was Bedivere’s turn first. Artoria gets flustered and says if he’s standing guard, there’s no need for her to be there. Bedivere can see you’re hurt by that and suggests you would enjoy her company even if you weren’t relying on her for protection. Artoria doesn’t respond and leaves. Bedivere’s super observant, so there’s zero chance of hiding how hurt you are from him. He spends most of the night trying to comfort you, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to.

This lasts for several days. The Knights of the Round Table one by one had begun to ship you and Artoria. It really bothers them to see her avoiding you and how hurt you where by that, especially since they feel partly responsible. They split up to try to fix things between you two.

Tristan and Bedivere try talking to you. They suggest you go to Artoria and tell her how you feel. You tell them it’s not your place to try guilting her into a relationship. It’s not like the two of you broke up; you two weren’t together to begin with. Besides, what would someone as perfect as Artoria want to do with someone like you anyway?

You might even take things a step further here and start comparing yourself to Guinevere. You’re not as beautiful. You’re not as smart or diplomatic. You’re not as graceful. When you’re done listing all of ways you’re different from Artoria’s Queen, Tristan comments that Artoria wasn’t in love with Guinevere; Lancelot was. So, maybe it was a good thing you were different.

Lancelot and Gawain try their luck with Artoria. They get equally nowhere, but did so much faster. What their king says goes; they can’t push the matter like Tristan and Bedivere can with you. Artoria denies having any feelings for you whatsoever, even most non-romantic ones. When they inquire about the sudden change in her attitude, she says it’s because she had shown too much familiarity towards her master and needed to put some distance between you two to set things right again. It’s the dumbest thing Lancelot or Gawain had ever heard, but they couldn’t argue.

Weirdly, it’s Mordred that fixes things. He walks up to Bedivere and Tristan and asks, “Lancelot and Gawain didn’t get anywhere; what about you two?” When they shake their heads, Mordred rolls his eyes and mutters, “Gotta do everything myself.” He grabs your arm and leads you off to where Artoria is. He greets her with, “Hey, good news. The Doctor found a second person that can take over as Master.” He threw you to the ground. “Guess that means you don’t need this one anymore.” He takes a dozen steps away from you before changing into his full suit of armor, sword in hand. When he turned to face you, he took a fighting stance. Your mystic code doesn’t have invincibility, evade, or stun, and you begin to get the feeling this isn’t going to end well.

Artoria: Mordred, what are you doing?

Mordred: Clarent-

Artoria: Mordred!

Mordred: Blood-

Artoria: *putting herself between you and Mordred* Ex-

Mordred: ARTHUR!

Artoria: CALIBUR!

You close your eyes against the brightness created by the two noble phantasms colliding. The sound is deafening. When you open your eyes again, your ears are ringing and Artoria and Mordred are fighting. You notice the walls have large cracks and there’s dust falling as if the ceiling is about to collapse. You shout a warning to the two combatants. As Artoria looks up to the ceiling, Mordred kicks her in the stomach, pushing her back. Mordred jumps back just as a large piece of ceiling falls on the now empty space where they had been standing. Mordred looks at Artoria and says, “You’d better get her out of here if you don’t want her to get crushed,” before sprinting off.

Stage 5: Acceptance

Artoria turns to you, holds out a hand, and asks if you can stand. You nod, take her hand, and take off running with her through the crumbling hallway. Artoria pulls and pushes you, weaving to avoid falling debris with limited success. By the time the two of you are in a stable part of the hallway, you both have several scrapes and bloodied and bruised patches of skin. Artoria gently helps you sit on the floor, kneeling in front of you. She looks very worried because of all the blood on you.

Artoria: Are you ok?

You: Yeah.

Artoria: I’m sorry; this is my fault.

You: It’s fine.

Artoria: How is it fine!? The person I love is hurt!

Before she realizes what she said, you say, “I love you too.” You cup her face briefly in your hands before she leans forward to kiss you. You take the opportunity to do a mana transfer to heal her injuries. When Artoria pulls away, she realizes what you did.

Artoria: That’s not why I kissed you.

You: I know.

Artoria: Come on; we need to get you to a doctor.

You: I wasn’t done yet. *you tug her shoulder to try to get her lips back to yours*

Artoria: But you’ve healed my injuries.

You: I know.

You smile wickedly at her causing her to blush before she tells you that there will be plenty of time for that later.

[betoveringhouse]

The cast's reaction to finding the MC's sketchbook filled with lovely, candid drawings of them? You can tell the MC spent time just observing them & drawing what they saw.

this is so long lmao and also this is set in like the crushing stage so!!! enjoy ;)

Ursula freezes as she realises what the book actually is. She had thought it was one of hers that she left out by mistake. But the drawings inside are definitely not her own. Her heart and breath both still, as she gazes at the sketches that line the pages. Mindlessly, she traces a finger over the familiar face she keeps seeing, eyes wide as saucers. Then reality kicks back in, her heart jump-starts, and she drops the book in shock. She quickly scrambles to pick it back up, cursing and hoping she didn’t ruin any of it. Her face is bright red, and she feels light-headed and giddy, knowing that they took the time to draw her of all people. They made her awkward features look graceful, and paid such care to her image that she can’t help but fall more in love with them even more so than before. I… God. They’re so, so- Ugh. I wish I could just- She shakes the thoughts out of her mind, and decides to give them their book back tomorrow. She will turn red as she does and they will know that she knows what’s inside.

Dodge notices the book they left behind, because he doesn’t own any himself. He tells himself he shouldn’t rifle through it; it could be private. But he’s so curious about them, and god only knows he’s never going to be able to ask them about themself. He carefully flicks through the pages, eyebrows raising as he looks over the sketches, impressed with their skill. Wonder who this guy is. He thinks, a pang of jealously striking his gut. They must like him a lo- His own thought is cut off as he flips to a page containing a full face sketch. Even his dense self can recognise the sunglasses and curls that fill the page. He swallows, mouth suddenly very dry, as heat crawls up his entire body. This… This is me? They drew me? He can’t even blink, he’s so shocked by the revelation. But, but why? He doesn’t understand at all, doesn’t even try to consider the fact they might like him. He’s thoroughly confused by the whole thing, and tries to keep calm when he hands it back to them later.

Nina finds the book on her coffee table as she sits down to eat dinner. She rolls her eyes at their forgetfulness, chuckling to herself. Still… she can’t help but wonder what’s inside. Maybe it’s a diary. She shouldn’t look. It would be an invasion of privacy and freedom. If their roles were reversed, she’d be angry. She goes to bed with the resolve to just give it back tomorrow. And wakes up at 3am with the thought of what’s inside on her mind. Just one look. She tells herself. One look to satisfy your stupid, selfish curiosity and that’s it. With newfound determination, she opens to a random page and what she finds nearly kills her. Amazing and beautiful drawings. Stunningly gorgeous sketches. And almost all of them of her. She wheezes, heart hammering against her ribs. She doesn’t need to keep her cool for once, and nearly squeals in delight. The giggles that escape her are much less playful than usual, verging towards the schoolgirl-with-a-crush type. She hands it back the next day and manages to not let it sleep that she looked through it. Somehow.

Arnold doesn’t mean to snoop. He really doesn’t. He’s just curious about them, that’s all! He’s totally not checking their room for stuff they like so he can talk about it and get closer to them. That would be weird. Oh, what’s this? A book? Do they like to read? I wonder what their favourite genre is… He picks it up, examining the blank exterior. I cannot tell from the outside. Best just to take a peek. He opens it, and is surprised to see there are no words, but instead works of art lining the pages. And he is even more surprised to see that the subject of these particular drawings is none other than himself. It causes a warm feeling to bloom in his chest, as his heart thuds dully against his ribs, pulse thrumming in his ears. Is… Is this how they see me? Surely not. The art is so splendid; so wonderful, that if it weren’t for the braid and clothing he would have trouble telling it was him. But as far as he knows, they do not have another friend with a similar style. He bites his lip, studying the pictures and committing them to memory. When he hands it back to them, he asks if there is significance in drawing another human, and so foolishly outs his nosiness.

Ray sighs, tugging at the neck of his sweater. Thank god they’re finally gone. He wouldn’t have been able to handle being around them for much longer. He knows he shouldn’t feel how he does, he knows it’s wrong and bad, and all he can ever do is hope they don’t find out. He picks up the book he was halfway through reading and settles down into his couch. Now, to find out what happens with Arthur and Rowan’s relationshi- Oh. Oh this is not ‘Courting a Courtier���. He stares blankly at the pages, the pictures filling them not processing in his mind. Who…What… Then he sees it. The turtleneck. His signature turtleneck. He slowly closes the book, face flushed pink, unable to make a coherent thought happen. Let’s just say, he definitely won’t be in the mood to read his book after finding those drawings. The detail was too astounding for it to be a mindless sketch. It was purposeful. They thought of him. A lot. That… was disconcerting. And definitely didn’t make his heart pound. He’ll just… give it back tomorrow. He saw nothing.

[secretagentfan]

Games and Gangs

Fandom: Banana Fish

Words: 2894

Summary: Kong organizes his thoughts on the Big Shit, the Important Shit, Ash's fancy new digs, and love. They also play a lot of Uno.

Now on Archive!

This fic was written for @VASaquafoxx on twitter for the BananaValentine2019 exchange!

Prologue— America’s Greatest

    The word “gang” used to make Kong nervous. It felt like he was a part of something dangerous when he just needed a place that would keep him from getting arrested for no reason or stabbed in his sleep. Then he shot his first man in a turf battle literally no one asked for, cried himself to sleep on Bones’s shoulder, and realized, oh, sounding dangerous was probably the fucking point.

    Maybe then this shit would happen less.

    The way Kong saw it, the boys joined together because of lacks. A lack of money, of support, of brains, of good old-fashioned values, or parental guidance. They were grand failures of the American Dream, a collection of broken pieces and half-finished sides that shoved together to stay warm at night and, well, kinda fit.

    Being a Gang kept them from being Losers. And being the Boss’s gang, kept them alive.

    Then Eiji appeared, and they got real good at Uno.

    But Kong’s getting ahead of himself. Rewind.

The Main Boys

    First, some set up. Roll call:

         -Kong. Himself. Observant. Used to get nervous stomachaches at night until he started keeping track of things, like this, in his head. Got organized. Feels better now.

         -Bones. All heart. Kong’s best friend. Told Kong once he got tired of sleeping behind a dumpster and that was why he joined up. Kong’s pretty sure that’s not the full deal though because the Boss accidentally clocked Bone’s teeth out and he stuck around, meaning that was still better than what Bones was getting anywhere else, and last time Kong checked, dumpsters didn’t cause you bodily harm.

         -Alex. Everyone’s confidant. Keeps the best and most secrets. Has known the Boss since forever. Alex knew how to hold a gun before he was walking properly, so, he was probably one of those “lost causes” shopping moms with carts full of vitamin water always talk about.

         -Skipper. Was a kid, bright and happy but self-aware enough to know where he was headed with his grades and his track record. His death really started the Big Shit. Kong misses him. Everyone does.

         -The Boss. Ash Lynx.

         -Eiji. …More on that later.

The Big Shit

    It wasn’t like they were a small gang. They had numbers, lots of ‘em; the Boss gathered people to him like he was the light on a bug zapper. There were too many for Kong to personally keep note of, but he knew Ash and Alex knew everyone. They were a big gang, big news with big allies and bigger enemies.

    They had allies in Chinatown, Shorter Wong: a good guy who looked after his boys, couldn’t make lo mein for shit, and usually disappeared when stuff got too shady because he had a sister to stay alive for. He died too.

    They also had enemies. Small fry like Arthur: a bitter coward who had probably never rubbed anyone the right way in his entire life and large fry like the Corsican and Chinese mafia.

    All of it’s a mess. Kong doesn’t like to think about it. No one does. Not without hurting.

The Important Shit

    The thing was, the Boss wasn’t okay. He was a superhuman, sure. He could fire a gun with his eyes shut and destroy an army with a pistol, but he also wasn’t okay.

    Everyone who had ever been around when the Boss napped in the other room had heard him scream. Screaming was old news; it was part of the reason no one ever wanted to wake him up. The Boss shouted a lot in his sleep because he was carrying a lot, and that was even before Skip and Shorter died. And sure, hearing the boss scream over the shit he’s seen and done while being sectioned away from everyone else did something to Kong’s heartstrings—

    But it wasn’t like Kong or even the gang could do anything about that. The Boss was the Boss. The gang was a gang. Kong could cry about his missing mom as much as he wanted in the middle of the night—but if he heard the Boss do that, on purpose?

    Well, it just wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t ever happen.

    And now, well, now things were worse. Kong didn’t even know what the Boss was carrying now, but he knew for sure it was a hell of a lot heavier than his mom walking out on him.

The Apartment

    There was also the Boss’s weird new apartment in downtown Manhattan— everyone was talking about it, even Alex who usually told everyone to keep involved in their own business. Kong had no idea where the Boss got the money for the place, but he didn’t ask questions. Bones did, and the Boss just looked at him, and that was the end of that particular conversation.

    Then Eiji had come out of the bathroom and the Boss was telling them they were gonna be his bodyguards sometimes because he wasn’t moving to the apartment alone apparently.

     “Sure thing boss,” Kong managed to squeak out. He elbowed Bones so his mouth shut properly.

Eiji

    The first thing Kong noticed about Eiji was the first thing everyone noticed about Eiji—he didn’t belong here.

    It wasn’t for a lack of balls. Eiji had balls. Huge balls. Startling balls. He stuck around after Skip died in front of him and talked to the boss like it was no big deal— acted like they were friends, got him out of bed, and made the gang dinner like the weird patriarch none of them ever had.

    Eiji’s balls were above reproach.

    The big problem, Kong figured, was that Eiji wasn’t missing anything. There was no lack. He seemed to have money, a home—he definitely had this reporter guy watching his every step with parental fondness, which was more than any of the gang had.

    Eiji didn’t need a gang, but the Boss let him in anyway. He bought him an apartment.

     It felt weird, almost sacrilegious to think something so clearly different from the Boss’s intentions, but who struck around with would-be losers in danger that didn’t need to? Eiji wouldn’t last.

    Why was the Boss keeping him around?

The Important Shit (part 2)

    Problem was, the Boss was looking good, and it wasn’t just because of the pricey new duds he was sporting. Bones was sure to whisper to Kong that the Boss’s usual “don’t talk to me” forehead crease had mysteriously vanished, and as a result he almost looked approachable. He still wasn’t.

    The cause for the Boss’s odd glowing comfort was a mystery until Kong finished a late-night discussion—all their discussions now considering the whole “laying low from the mafia” thing—and was invited by a not-happy-to-be-awoken Eiji to crash on their expensive-ass couch.

    Never one to turn down a couch, especially one big enough to fit him, Kong took him up on the deal.

    Eiji puttered on back to the bedroom, leaving the door open wide for the Boss to follow behind him. Kong recognized the sounds of Eiji climbing in bed, both nervous and amused by how loud he was just doing regular things, when he noticed the Boss lingering in the doorway.

    Kong could only see him in profile, but he wore an expression Kong had never seen before on his face. The only comparable expression he had seen was the one Skipper would make while looking through the window of a 5th Avenue bakery during the winter. Longing: pure and unabashed.  

    It hit Kong all at once. This wasn’t the boss. This was Ash, and Ash looked…fragile.

    Ash shut the door behind him. Kong swallowed, suddenly very, very afraid for the gang.        

The Facts:

         -The Boss was keeping Eiji cooped up in the apartment the majority of the day like a vampire.

         -Eiji wasn’t happy. He couldn’t be, regardless of his smiles and general aura of monk-like calm.

         -It was only a matter of time before Eiji would get tired, realize the situation was shit and ollie out.

         -The Ash that Kong saw that night wouldn’t be able to handle that, and the gang needed him. Everyone did, at this point.

         -Unless they found a way to make Eiji happy, the gang would be sunk.

         -The only people who were interested in being at home all the time were housewives and children.

         -Housewives and children loved board games.

         -Kong had a plan.

         -Bones would help.

   And thus began…

Game Night

    They tried Mahjong first. They borrowed the tiles from Sing, wanting Eiji to feel more at home, but then Eiji explained that Mahjong was definitely Chinese in origin, not Japanese. He didn’t know how to play. Kong then tried to explain, but then realized he didn’t know how to play either. Bones took over and made up several rules and they all tried to play with those but they kept contradicting themselves and—Mahjong was out.

    Bones brought cards but was missing half of them and those that were present smelled like ass, so they wound up making him throw them out in the dumpster outside the building.

    In what was probably a last effort to save the night, Eiji fished out an old egg carton and dried beans, and tried to get Bones and Kong to play mancala. It was actually pretty fun until they realized that it was two players only and they had been excluding Eiji the whole time. Not the point! Eiji assured them he didn’t mind and that he was having fun watching them play—but Bones finally exploded.

     “Just admit when you’re not having fun, Eiji!”

    He was right: it had been a rotten night, but the way Eiji blinked and stared at him would make it seem the opposite.

    After a moment, Eiji declared, almost apologetically: “I do not think I am having fun now.”

    The silence following Eiji’s quiet comment was fucking mountainous. Kong started picking up the dried beans that had been knocked over during mancala and Bones and Eiji joined in, if only to be unified in the same activity again.

    Game night was a dismal failure.

The Fallout

    Bones and Kong were pretty sure their days were numbered, but the next time they saw the Boss he stopped in the middle of his “watch your backs” speech to tell them both: “Eiji says thanks for the other night. He had a good time”.

Neither Bones or Kong made any move to correct him.

Uno

    It was a trade from one of the younger members. Kong hadn’t said three words to the guy before—he had a stealing problem and guys like that rarely stuck around—but he sat outside the hideout with his little store: ready to peddle his stolen goods for cigarettes like they were in jail or something.

    The game was still in the packaging so it definitely had all the pieces; the red box was pristine, shiny even.

    Kong thought of Eiji and the Boss. He said fuck it.

Game Night (Part 2)

    The Boss was apparently set for a late night at the library, and that was all the invite they needed from Eiji to come and show their newly formed skills.

    They wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. They came prepared: double-checked all the cards to make sure they were there and actually read the instructions— even practiced on Alex on how to explain them nice and slow to Eiji, in a way that wouldn’t confuse him. They were pretty good at it now. Alex told them that when they each explained individually, he understood about half of the game, so as a team they’d be perfect.

     “Uno! I have played this before.”

    Eiji beamed when he saw the box. Kong exhaled. Well that was one less thing.

    They set up the game, sitting on pillows on the floor, instead of the couch, which was weird, but oddly home-y. As home-y as the Boss’s apartment got anyway.

    Eiji was merciless. Their first round was unfortunate, with Kong and Eiji both teaming up against Bones, skipping his turn as often as possible. Kong felt bad after Bones got skipped the third time in a row, and started playing sympathetically—just in time for Eiji to turn on him. Balls.

    It was less of a game and more a public execution, which was embarrassing, considering all the practice Kong and Bones did with Alex, but Eiji was smiling holding out his cardless hands like it really mattered. Kong felt oddly…rewarded.

     “Another round?” Eiji asked. Bones groaned, but Kong had already started dealing the cards.

    It wasn’t long before they got comfortable enough to talk.

     “You got family, Eiji?” Kong found himself asking while Bones was staring hard at the instructions, making sure Eiji wasn’t making up rules to win.

     “Yeah. I have a Mom and Dad, and a little sister in Japan.”

     “Huh,” Kong replied, no richer in answers.

    Bones huffed, folding the instructions up and regretfully drawing two cards. It was Kong’s turn now.

     “What about you?” Eiji asked.

    He felt Bones tense up next to him, clearly not wanting this question to pass to him as well. Kong just shrugged, laid down a red card. Bones shot him a look before answering:

     “None of us really do.”

     “Oh.” Eiji looked at them both for a moment. “You have each other though. That is family.”

    Bones blinked, once, twice, and then pretended to look real hard at his cards. Kong smiled a little, trying to play it cool over the weird bit of pride dancing in his gut.

     “Guess so.”

    They played into the night. Eiji eventually got sloppy, letting Kong steal a few rounds. It was fun. Kong couldn’t remember the last time he had fun like this, and Kong had never been very good at forgetting. Even Bones was enjoying himself, now that he’d stop trying to win and was now focusing on making everyone else lose, like a toothless vengeful dragon.

    Kong felt like a kid again, even though he was pretty sure he never was one.

    Then the Boss walked in, and with him, the rest of the world. Kong stood up automatically, Bones dropped a few cards. Eiji stayed sitting.

    He was leaning against the door, and at first Kong thought he was injured, but then he yawned, and oh, that was so much worse.

     “Tired, Ash?” Eiji asked, like he wasn’t interacting with a half-asleep potentially lethal criminal.

     “Mngh.”

    Ash stumbled past them, Kong’s eyes following him all the way to the bedroom. He stopped in front of the open door. His hands fumbled at his coat as he half-heartedly chucked it on the floor.

     “Hey!” Eiji stood, picking up the coat. The Boss looked at him a second. Rubbed his neck when Eiji held it out to him, and to Kong’s utter bafflement, hung it on the back of a chair.

     “What are you doing?” the Boss asked, eyes scanning the room, finally noticing Kong and Bones. Bones waved. Kong nodded.

     “Playing Uno! Would you like to join us?”

    Ash stared blankly at them, or rather somewhere between Kong’s left pec and chest.      “I’ll pass.”

    Kong nodded. Duh. Of course he wasn’t—

     “Maybe next time.”

    His voice was soft. Ash again. Eiji smiled, giving him a small push into the bedroom.

     “Get some rest. It looks like you need it!”

    Ash waved his hand, and shut the bedroom door behind him.

    Eiji’s smiled faded, eyes on the door. Kong had seen this expression before. It was different from Ash’s—but it came from the same place. Eiji looked back at them, shaking his head quickly.

     “Sorry, it is my turn, right?”

Getting Organized

    Thoughts usually arrived in fragments and connected pieces that layered together disjointedly like a photograph developing; like a gang.

    The sights of Eiji and Ash looking at the same shut bedroom door, and even of Bones surrounded by a forgotten game of Uno made Kong’s heart want to reach out and fill the spaces and holes in all of them. He wondered if he was looking at everything all wrong. Wondered if his view of the gang being made up of lacks was closeminded: dark.

    Kong thought about love, for the first time since he shot that man—no, kid and cried himself to sleep.

    This was why Ash wanted Eiji in his house even though he could barely go outside. This was why Eiji could bear living like a vampire, away from everyone else, in a country he didn’t know. This was why Alex listened to Bones and Kong explain how to play Uno thirty-four consecutive times in a row. This was why Kong saved and bought Skip a cinnamon roll from that Bakery on 5th Avenue. This was why Skip died, and Shorter just had to come home even though he couldn’t. This was why Eiji was a member of the gang—no—this is why all of them were.

    Love.

    The thought made Kong’s face feel warm, his heart beat faster, but it felt right. He’d never say it out loud, of course. But he’d keep it, his secret, his truth, tight in his chest.

    Maybe that’s what being a gang, really was. Or was supposed to be, anyway.

    Regardless, they were damn lucky to have found each other.