#I'm writing it and I'm still mad about it

[lizzybugsblog]

Based on this post, here's how I think Leo would react to a new friend or potential person of interest. (This is just for human type of reader.)

I feel like if you are a human and meet Leo, he'd try to explain that he isn't a giant talking turtle and "you're just seeing things" or ask for directions to the science convention he's currently dressed for(I don't remember the exact quote). Chances are you would see him again, since they do little to nothing to hide themselves from the general public. Probably just avoid actual citizenship as to not pay taxes. But anyway, you'd probably also find out they exist from April(I'm writing this in the pov that you are teenage or young adult going to school with her). After Leo properly introduces himself, he'd want to learn a little about you. Y'know, just incase you're trying to get close to them for some reason nefarious. But since you aren't because you're a good person and good people don't betray their turtle friends out of nowhere. He's not all quick wit and funny poses. Anyway, you two are friends are now, you've joined his list of 'people to bother when he's bored'. Expect a bunch of sudden drop ins with his portal swords and rants about the Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu lore. He sometimes gets annoyed by the questions you have about why he is the way he is. "You have you're weird habits! I have mine!" If you forget something at home, he'll be fine with portaling the item to your location. If you're standing beside him, chances are he'll hold it above your head to mess with you. He's 5'5" cannonically. There's only so high he can hold it.

Leo enjoys challenges, so if you're competitive or at least willing to play along, there will be a bunch of races or competitions of some sort. He doesn't let you win. You have to win fair and square or drop a banana peel to make him fall. In any video games, he'll always be excited to set a high score for you to try and beat. If you do, he'll try his hardest to beat it. It's a vicious cycle of trying to be better than each other.

If you're not as competitive, Leo does some of his "impressive" tricks, like skateboarding tricks, or trick shots in basketball, or the pizza tower balancing on his head just to earn a surprised look from you or a "how did you do that?" type of reaction.

Also, you'll probably catch on to his aromantic tendencies or he'll show it. Probably because his brothers tease him sometimes since you two spend so much time together. "I don't have many outside friends! Of course I'm going to hang out with them. You guys are no fun anyway." I feel like he'd say something like that so his brothers would quit teasing him. Hopefully, you can resist the "prettiest face" of the Mad Dogs. *Insert eye roll*

He comes to talk with you on the rooftops or just the park if you're not that casual. Mostly about his missions and how he totally had everything under control. Definitely, tells you all his one-liners or "jokes" he said that day. If you actually laugh, he starts smiling a little more softly and genuine as opposed to his usual smirk.

He wouldn't think of you as a love interest, just someone he can talk to that isn't family. Based on your reactions most the time, he doesn't think you find it weird. And if you do ask questions about it, he'll deny and say something to most likely make any assumption or fantasy about him evaporate from your brain.

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After the events from the Movie, Leo tends to call you for conversations on rooftops. Or depending on your injuries, you two will just talk on the floor or couch in your house/room.

He still sees you as a friend. Even if you did tell him never to do that again and constantly hold onto him when he's the slightest bit sad. Leo may feel a little confused to be cared for by a human. And even if he does somehow feel a little different around you, he can't let any lovey-dovey thoughts in his mind. You're a human and he's a freak of nature. Literally.

Although, after a few session with Mikey or Dr. Feelings and an overlook of his relationship with you, it's clear as day that he's fallen for his best friend. "No, I haven't. That's ridiculous. I think the Kraang did a number on you to think of a situation as crazy as that." He's definitely in denial. Poor boy can't realize he's in love.

Gross. He can't be in love. That's icky.

So what if he knows what you like and don't like? That's what friends do. So what if he spends more time with you than he would with April or Sunita or Casey, both of them? You're the newest and least judgmental friend he has. And when you are judgmental it's kind of funny. So what if he text you in the middle of the night? He's an insomniac and he's bothered his brothers long enough. So what if he hugs you and spins you around and shares his pizza with you? OH. He shares his pizza with you. Yeah, he's toast.

At first, he doesn't know how to approach the idea that he likes you more than a friend. Leo mostly tries to ignore it, but every time you smile his way or laugh at his jokes or say he's actually got "rad skills". OHH! WHY??! He sometimes has to cover his face or act like he's adjusting his bandana to make sure you don't see him sweat or blush a little in embarrassment.

If you confess first, he might react like "Oh, of course you do. I am the face man. The greatest ninja of all time, who wouldn't love me?" He'd say with the most confidence, flipping his bandana tails and smirk while trying to ignore the blush on his face. If he has to confess, eh boy. He's acting a lot more flamboyant until you ask him why he's acting so weird. "Weird? I'm not acting weird! You're being weird! You're being weird hanging out with a turtle who can do ninjitsu!" He eventually calms down and takes a deep breath to look you in the eyes. "Okay, don't freak out, but I may have an attachment to you further than... oh, I can't say it." He'd probably turn around to actually figure out what to say. He can't wing it this time, he's gotta be professional. "OK! Listen, I... I like you. And... more than a friend should." Leo has to say it since you're probably confused if he's getting a flashback or just speaking gibberish at this point. "And I was wondering if... maybe... you... like me too?" He's looking down and tapping his fingers together like this.

This idiot.

If you return his feelings, he's shocked at first. Real shocked. You like him? How? He's a clumsy, weird, arrogant, impulsive, and self-sacrificing. Why would you like him?

Well, somehow you like him back and he's so happy. He's a little confused on how to react since... romance. Icky. So he just settles with hugging you and spinning you around like he normally does.

If you don't like him. Oh. Yeah that makes sense. He's weird and you guys are just friends and romance icky. You guys agreed on that. No lovey and or dovey talk. You can still be friends. He's just glad to get that off his chest.

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This is my opinion so take it with a grain of salt. Or pepper if you don't like salt.

Why I headcanon Leo as aromantic

While I enjoy the fanarts and fics of Leo with Usagi, if I would gonna write a Rise fic, I would write him as aromantic, cause canonically, this boy is disgusted about romance.

Is not just that he doesnt like it: he is GROSSED OUT.

Look at this boy, and tell me, do you think someone that reacts like him is cannonically interested in romance 😭 And of his brothers, is the only one that reacts this way.

... so, yeah, thats why I headcanon him as aromantic.... and gay. Cause you dont need to be in love to feel atraction.

[kxsagi]

Hello girlie🩷 I hope you doin well,

I saw u open u request today :).

I wanted to ask if you could a headcannon or smth like which kind of car drivers are the blue lock boys and would they drive gearshift or automatic, which car would they drive?

I personally think Kaiser can drive both and he is a cocky driver. He is german so I guess he is a good driver and would absolutley use the no speed limitation on german highways. Isagi probably swears and curses a lot. Could you pls write it for Kaiser,Isagi,Sae,Rin,Bachira,Barou and whoever you like🩷

“𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬? 𝐧𝐨”

a/n: i'm doing well and i hope are you too! i absolutely love this request ❤️

ft. kaiser michael, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, bachira meguru, barou shoei

kaiser michael

drives: both. obviously. he could drive a tank if you asked him to. 

car: obnoxiously loud BMW M8 Competition with blacked-out rims and illegal neon lights that scream “main character.” 

driving style: spawn of satan meets fast & furious audition reel. 

he drives like every road is a racetrack and he’s got a sponsorship deal on the line. 

one hand on the wheel, other on your thigh, doing 210km/h with zero fear of god or death. 

“buckle up, liebling. we’re gonna pass 12 cars and a soul today.” 

listens to eurobeat and EDM (like 700 main street that song is so good idc). subwoofers so strong your bones vibrate. 

randomly revs the engine when another guy looks at you. 

brake checks people for fun. 

will lean out the window to yell “move it, snail boy” at slow drivers. 

the police? fans. they ask for selfies. 

isagi yoichi

drives: automatic only. thinks stick is a myth invented by the show top gear. 

car: toyota corolla, the 2023 “sport” trim that he swears has more horsepower (it doesn’t). 

driving style: unhinged, but law-abiding. 

he’s the type to hit the brakes 0.002 seconds after the light turns yellow, clutching the steering wheel like it personally betrayed him. 

screams internally every time someone merges without signaling. road rage is most definitely present. 

“HELLO?? it’s not a personality test, it’s a damn traffic light. MOVE.” 

accidentally floors it when you're just trying to chill. 

swears under his breath with the windows up but immediately apologizes after: “sorry love, that was not very respectful of me. i’m just… really passionate about traffic etiquette.” 

gps volume at full blast. still misses the turn. 

itoshi sae

drives: automatic. doesn’t need stick – that’s what other people are for. 

car: mercedes-benz S-class, silver, polished like a mirror, smells like “wealthy indifference.” 

driving style: smooth, silent, emotionally detached. 

never makes sharp turns. it’s all glides and glances. 

has never parked crooked in his life. 

listens to ambient lofi or complete silence. 

“why would i honk? that’s embarrassing.” 

lets pedestrians walk even when they shouldn’t. 

will drive an extra 15 mins to avoid traffic but act like it was his plan all along. 

always looks like he’s in a commercial. he could run someone over and still look cool. 

itoshi rin

drives: manual. said “automatic is a metaphor for mediocrity” and meant it. 

car: black mazda RX-7, pristine, waxed weekly, emotionally significant. 

driving style: laser-focused, but not chill about it. 

adjusts his mirrors exactly three times. won’t move the car until the seat feels “symmetrical.” 

“don’t talk. i’m merging.” 

refuses to use drive-thrus. too inefficient. 

slams the brakes at yellow lights like it’s a moral stand. 

speed limit? 1km/h over. rebellious. 

gets irrationally mad when you fiddle with the radio. 

doesn't let you eat in his car. you once dropped a fry and he nearly pulled over to exorcise it. 

uses apple maps even though he memorized every street. 

bachira meguru

drives: automatic (but makes it look manual somehow). 

car: bright yellow jeep wrangler with anime decals and at least 12 hanging plushies. 

driving style: feral and fearless. 

rolls the windows down no matter the season. yells compliments at strangers. 

parks diagonally like it’s an art piece. 

will drive into the forest just because “the trees were calling him.” 

doesn’t use turn signals. he “lets the vibes decide.” 

GPS? nah. he just follows the sun and the stars. 

keeps snacks, glitter, and possibly feral raccoons in the back. 

“do you want to hear my car playlist or my car chase playlist?” 

there is no peace when he’s driving. only laughter, speed bumps, and spontaneous detours. 

barou shoei

drives: manual. automatic is for weaklings and children. 

car: dodge challenger hellcat, blacked out like his soul. 

driving style: aggressive. like "fasten your seatbelt or meet god" aggressive. 

merges like it’s a battle for survival. 

absolutely has a custom license plate that says KING23. 

revs his engine at red lights because “the car needs to BREATHE.” 

“i don’t slow down. they get out of the way.” 

will stare into other drivers' souls at stop signs like it’s a standoff. 

has rock blasting as he parallel parks. 

glove compartment has protein bars and nothing else. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[rosenclaws]

More headcanons for all the Logans please? Your previous ones were so perfect. 1. How does he apologize/make it up to your after an argument when he was in the wrong and knows it but is too stubborn to admit it and ends up hurting your heart. 2. How does he handle (you're totally oblivious and innocent when this other man comes on to you, Logan's your one and only) other men flirting with you and his jealousy? 3. How does he approach you or ask you for comfort when he's upset, in pain - physical or emotional?

OO YES more prompts lfggg. Once again I'm gonna split this into three posts! I got pretty carried away ngl...but thats okay lmao

How does he apologize/make it up to your after an argument

Origins Logan -

Okay so, here's the thing all the Logan's are very stubborn and aren't really the best at apologies but they all go at it in slightly different ways. For origins Logan I could see you two arguing about his nightmares and how he refuses to let you in. Maybe he hurts you and he's refusing to forgive himself and it spirals into a big argument. You still drive him to work the next day and give him lunch but the two of you don't speak to each other. The other guys even rib him asking if there's trouble in paradise which makes Logan really angry. As he's eating lunch he sees that despite your argument you still write him a note and he knows he's fucked up. I think he comes home that day with flowers he's picked and mumbles of an apology. It's hard for him to when he sees the bandage on your arm but he's trying and you'll take that for now. But he will be making dinner from now until the foreseeable future.

Trilogy Logan -

Getting an apology out of Logan is like taking food from a hungry bear. It's just not happening. Logan can be reckless and his the whole not really know his past can really get to him so i think if you guys do get into a fight he def lashes out and says things he doesn't mean just to hurt you. He feels awful but he won't apologize. It's just pure silent treatment between the two of you. Tension builds and everyone can feel it. You refuse to break and Logan is fighting with himself to figure out how to fix things. A part of him wonders if he even should because it could be better for both of you this way. He can't hurt you anymore. But he misses you. He hates waking up to a cold bed, hates seeing you leave the room when he enters. Hates hates hates it.

I think he goes to 'Ro and asks how to fix it and she says, Logan you gotta apologize but he doesn't know how to do that. She def slaps him on the back of his head and just says. Stop being stupid and save your damn relationship. He gets flowers he plucked right out of the yard and steals one of Scotts cars to take you on a nice date. It's a little awkward at first but he's trying. He tells you he was stupid and you agree with that. That he didn't mean what he said and he only said it because he was angry. You don't forgive him right away but on the ride home you hold his hand and Logan takes that as a good sign.

DOFP Logan -

See arguing with this Logan is interesting because I think of all the Logan's he's the best at apologizing. Which isn't saying much but hey he's trying. This argument stems from Logan throwing himself into his work and forgetting your anniversary. Oh you were pissed and Logan was mad at himself but ended up taking it out on you saying it wasn't that big of a deal to him. You gave him the silent treatment and it killsss him. He knows he's an idiot and he didn't mean to imply that you didn't mean anything to him but he really hurt you. He knows he can't just say he's sorry and it all goes away so he plans a whole anniversary date, dresses up in a suit and you know he hates suites, and even takes you to that show you wanted to see. He sits through the whole thing and doesn't complain once. It's sweet seeing him try and make it up to you so you do break the silent treatment with a kiss on his cheek.

Old Man Logan -

He is the hardest to get an apology out of. Honestly...Its hard to be in love with him because he just hates himself so much it makes loving him harder. You don't want to give up on him but he's already given up on himself. Logan knows you are without a doubt the best thing that has ever happened to him. You are the shining light in his dark life. He's constantly in this battle of wanting to push you away because he thinks he's protecting you and keeping you in his life because he's selfish and loves you. The argument is born from this dynamic and you're this close to walking out on him again and he tells you to go.

When he comes back later that night and sees your things gone he goes into a rage. He's angry at himself and he knows this is all his fault. He doesn't see you for a little bit. Drowning himself in alcohol and guilt. He's accepted that he's a mess and that you left and it's his fault. Somehow you find each other again. He stumbles into a bar and you happen to be working there. After you left you needed money and this was the only job you could find. It hurt to see him like this. Typical Logan gets himself into a fight after someone tries to touch you. He's not as strong as he used to be though and it ends with you cleaning him up again. Its quiet and he just watches you fix him up. In the quiet whispers he asks you to come home. That he knows he's a mess but he needs you. The words I'm sorry never leave his lips, it's only unspoken which makes it hard for you to accept it. He practically gets on his knees and you can see the pain in his eyes and fuck...you love him more than you should. So you forgive him and he thanks you over and over again.

Worst Logan -

I know this can get kind of repetitive but Logan isn't great at apologies no matter what universe he's from. Same this worst Logan. But he's a lot sadder than he is angrier. This argument is stupid and he knows it is but he can't stop the words that come out of his mouth. You storm out of the apartment and Logan knows the moment the door slams that he's fucked up. I think he tries to basically drown himself in alcohol but Wade won't let him because liver failure is so not cool. He's too afraid to go and apologize so he puts up his walls and pretends he's fine. He's more reckless in his fights and it doesn't matter bc he heals but somehow it helps him.

Eventually Wade gets sick of his ass and just goes off on him. Telling him to get his head out of his ass and that emotionally constipated assholes like him don't get people like you in their lives so he better put his big boy pants on and apologize. So he does. Its cute really he gets flowers and even finds a nice shirt at the goodwill and he's got these big eyes as he apologizes. It's choppy and he fucks up his words a little bit but he does say im sorry and does his best.

[barrenclan]

just finished reading this comic after months of putting it off, and my god am i mad at myself for not reading it sooner. i have so, so many thoughts about it and how well written it is, but i wanna keep this ask short so all i'll say is this: thank you for Egrettail. thank you so much. i'm trans and struggle a lot with the concepts of romantic/platonic love and it is genuinely so refreshing to see a character like me. i especially love the way other characters treated her, it felt *real*, and seeing her get to grow old with her not-quite-mate (though not quite just a friend either... somewhere in a happy middle only she could understand) and helping her with raising her children and managing her dementia... it makes me happy. it feels bittersweet, but it makes me happy. i'm not sure if you ever planned a starclan-like afterlife for this comic, but i like to think mallowstar is watching over them as well. i think he'd know his mate and children are in good hands.

just, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. reading this comic has been incredibly cathartic for me and while i'm here drying my tears at 6am (worth the all nighter. zero regrets.) i couldn't be happier about it. i was following TDS for a while and already loved your writing there, but PATFW was absolutely phenomenal. i hope you keep letting your creativity flow and share your creations with us, i would be thrilled to see another comic (or even book!) by you, whether it be in 5 months or 5 years :D

Thank you so much! That's so kind of you to say. Egrettail was one of my favorite characters to write and I'm so glad people connected with someone like her. There is no canonical afterlife in PATFW; you can imagine whatever you want.

I am actually working on another (albeit shorter) comic right now, though it's still in the scripting stages. I'll mention it on this blog when it begins. As always I'm very flattered and honored that people are so excited about the things I make.

[astrobuggy]

Now that the celestial family is moving to a new dimension, there's one more secret I feel I have to share with you (I have multiple)

I do not care for startools (Nebula x Solar). I skip every single episode I see of them. I don't even know where they are in their relationship. I generally do not care

I kinda hated Solar x Ruin. That came out of nowhere, and ppl still shipped them even after Ruin basically killed bro (Also the ppl who ship this are mad salty about startools becoming canon. I've seen some of yall, and yall really got nothing else to complain about ����‍♂️)

Both of the ships mentioned make zero sense. Solar said he liked somebody before he started dating Nebula. That in it of itself is a massive writing flaw 🧍‍♂️

I did not care for Dark Suns arc. I barely knew what his motives were bc I didn't watch most of his episodes. Like, wth does Sun have a connection with those damn shards 😭 WHAT EVEN HAPPENED WITH THOSE CRYSTALS?

I feel like most people, baby Eclipse. I go into the comments of most EAPS episodes on where it's mostly about Charlie, and they literally only talk about Eclipse. ESPECIALLY WHEN CHARLIE WAS CRYING (MY SHAYLAAAA 😭😭). ALL I SAW WAS HOW GOOD OF A JOB ECLIPSE DID WITH HANDLING CHARLIES MENTAL BREAKDOWN. Mf he barely did SHIT 😣😣

What the writers are doing with the astrals is HORRENDOUS. Why is Scorpio (I think) a creator. From what I've been given (Thank you, Justuraverageweirdo 🗣🙏) , they mostly deal with death..... What is going on in the kitchen?! 😰

TSAMS is getting boring to me. I'm literally only staying bc of my GLORIOUS, MAGNIFICENT, LUMINOUS, Lunar. And with the hopes of seeing the astrals again. Mostly the NSP entities (REZ COME BACKK. KERIAN YOU TOO. I NEED TO SEE YOUR POTENTIAL 😭😭)

[zae-heeyyy]

Fffuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkkkk. I read the description, I know what story I’m reading, but fuuuuccckk. I’m so numb right now, I was going to save this draft and come back when I wasn’t feeling so raw, but maybe now’s the best time.

I’ve never hated this man so much. Never thought I could, but the way you write him, the things he does…I hate him. Like, so much of me wants reader to keep her promise to Hosea. Just never look back. It pisses me off so bad how he flies off the handle then has a moment of clarity or nearly dies for him to see how much he loves her. To do all of that, then come back with a ring and think it’s all gonna be okay?????? I’d want to slap him, omg.

The part where she was looking at her photo in Blackwater was so sad 😭😭😭 we’ve all been there, right? Seeing a version of ourselves from before somebody stole our spark? Omg that shit hurt so bad.

Fatherly Hosea is my favorite, and I’m glad he had reader’s back. It’s brilliant, really. Fatherly in a loving, “go be free" kind of way, and fatherly in a stern, “you’ve made your bed; lay in it,” way. I don’t know how close to canon you’re keeping it, but it’s almost like one last grand act of love for Hosea. I'm literally choked up thinking about it.

Ugh, you continue to rip my heart out. And I'm sorry, did I read that right (you know I can't read sometimes 🤣) did...he...did he still go on the DATE WITH MARY? You know that electric chair mission? Yeah, put Arthur in the chair instead.

UGHGUGHGUGH I'm so mad!!!!!!!!! I'm gonna stop yapping now, I love you, I hate you. Please stop stabbing me in the heart (stop isn't my safe word lol)

Dark Paradise IV

Pairing: Low Honor Arthur Morgan x female reader

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word Count: 7,396

Summary: You're reminded that happiness doesn't last forever, especially with Arthur Morgan.

Tags: Heavy angst, pnv, toxic relationship, smut, porn with plot, 18+, MDNI

Author's note: Sorry this took longer than usual to get out, I really wanted to perfect this one because I've had this chapter and the next in my drafts since I got on Tumblr, I just decided to merge it into this story line. Also life has just been so draining lately with my new job and all, I make a lot of money, but at what cost? I feel like I have little time for enjoyable things nowadays.

In a steady, unrelenting rhythm, Arthur moves inside you - again and again. His sweat slicked skin sticks to yours with each powerful thrust, droplets rolling down from his forhead not only from the intensity of your bodies merging, but from the thick, humid air that laces the land of Lemoyne.

He looks down at you gorgeous, wild, and undone. Naked as the day you were born, your hair sprawling like a halo across a patch of shaded grass on the bank of Ringneck Creek. Your breasts bare to the breeze, your warmth wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. The green hues of the grass blend beautifully with the glow of your skin, your eyes telling him everything.

Just the two of you, naked and untamed, lost in the wilderness like creatures meant to mate under open skies. Feral. Primal. Right. Wild. Just animals ritualistically fucking in nothing but the bodies they were born in.

With one final thrust, his eyes lock on your lip between your teeth. “I - I love you,” he gasps, voice breaking as he reaches his climax, pulling out to spill across your soft, heavy chest. He collapses beside you moments later, the earth cool beneath his back, breath catching in his throat as he stares up at the blue sky broken up by branches swaying in the soft wind above him.

Had he really just said that?

Your stomach flips for a moment before he exhales slowly, still smiling, before turning on his side to face you. You wanted to say it back, say those three little, enchanting words as he stares at you completely spent. But something had stopped you. The nerves maybe, or the way he had said it almost too casually, like it had slipped out by accident. But soon, you're not even sure why you're arguing with yourself. The moment fades, lost in the way his lips curve into that boyish grin. He doesn’t bring it up again, and either do you. But those three little words still hang at the end of your tongue, waiting for just the right moment to say them back.

“Lucky no one saw us,” he mutters with a chuckle, breaking you out of your daze. Without thought, he lifts up his hand and scratches his day old stubble before resting his hand on your thigh.

You arch a brow with wide eyes, “You said this was some secret spot you found?”

Arthur laughs, running a hand through his messy hair as he glances toward the pond that curls off the creek. He just laughs, “It's actually a real popular fishin' spot Javier showed me some time ago."

“You bastard.” You purse your lips, pressing a hand to your chest to try and protect your non-extistant modesty as you scan the nearby grass for your discarded dress.

But Arthur only grins wider. Catching your hand before gently pulling you back onto his lap, your bare body melting into him. “C’mon,” he groans softly. “Let’s enjoy it a bit longer. Take a swim? Cool down?”

And when you look into those deep pools of blue when he smiles at you with that chipped tooth grin - it’s damn near impossible to say no.

He holds you bridal style in his broad arms, standing up as he walks to the creek bank, wading in slowly before the sting of the cold pond water hits your bottom, and in a second he drops you from his arms. The chill of water making your nipples peak, catching the attention a a certain pair of wandering blue eyes.

It felt like living inside a storybook, a fairytale you never expected to be part of.

It hadn’t been long since Clemen’s Point, maybe a month and a half, but in that short time, Arthur had done his best to keep the promises he'd made to you. He cared for you in every way he said he would. Steadily and real, like he had promised.

When Sean died, he didn’t pull away like you'd feared. He held you close instead, comforted you not just with touch, but with presence and support.

And then, as the gang's luck soured further, Shady Belle became the saving grace that everyone had needed.

For the first time in what felt like forever, life had rhythm. You were still on chore duty most days, same as always, but Jack was home and safe, and the boys were mostly just laying low. A robbery here, a stagecoach there - even a fancy party hosted by some Brönte guy you knew little about. And for once, everything felt right. Right in a way your godforsaken life rarely allowed.

Maybe it had taken Arthur nearly dying to shake something loose, to snap the both of you into reality. At first, you kept yourself guarded, unsure whether to give him all of you. But slowly, in the quietest ways, you began to trust him.

Falling asleep in his bed. Riding along on his little side quests. The way he actually looked at you like he liked you - needed you, even.

It was such a stark contrast from the months before, it almost felt like he’d turned into someone entirely new, but not new, just changed. His rough edges were still there, his sharp tongue and occasional arrogance - but all of it felt familiar now. Manageable. Nothing you hadn’t already endured.

Arthur smiles as he lowers himself into the water, vanishing beneath the surface for just a breath before rising again, water trickling down his chest and stubble. He gives himself a quick, careless rinse - splashing under his arms, through his light facial hair, and even lifting the girth of himself to splash down there too...his version a bath apparently.

You roll your eyes before dipping lower, letting the cool pond water wash his spend from your body. The tips of your long hair dance across the surface before dipping beneath the waterline, the cool sensation absolutely heavenly against the humidity. You fall into the moment, letting the cool water baptize your skin, letting each curve of your body fall to refreshing sensation.

That is until a strong, wet hand seizes your arm and yanks you up with a jolt.

“Arthur!” you snap, voice sharp with surprise.

“Shhh,” he hisses quickly. “Someone’s comin’. Go hide behind that oak, I’ll grab our stuff.”

Without a second thought, you scramble from the water, feet slipping in the grass as you make for the tree. Behind you, Arthur snatches your disgarded dress with one hand and the rest of his belongings in the other. And just as he fumbles behind the large oak, two men mosey down the creek with fishing poles resting on their shoulders.

They’re too far to see anything crude, but Arthur is still smiling like he's gotten away with murder. Which he has....several times. The cowboy lets out a soft chuckle as you rip your dress out of his hands and quickly slip it over your slicked body, the fabric catching on your curved body from the droplets of water still scattered across your frame. The dress is all that hides you - no bloomers, no chemise, just the thin cloth of light blue dress, one that nearly matches the soft glow of Arthur Morgan's delicate eyes.

“That was a close one,” he laughs, pulling his corduroys over his bare hips, reaching down his fly to adjust his member as he smiles at you with a toothy grin.

Your lips purse under a furrowed brow as he buttons his pants, his eyes not leaving you as he reaches for your hips to pull you close. In a swift motion he pins you to the tree, locking his lips to yours as you wrap your legs around his frame. Wild and free.

You swear there’s a part of him that likes being nearly caught. No matter how much he insists it’s embarrassing, there had been too many close calls for it to just be an accident. Too many actual incidents for you to know that he really doesn't care if he gets caught anyway. Sure there was the incident with Ms. Grimshaw, but that incident with Dutch....that had been too far for you. Yet here he is again, with a grin and flushed cheeks. Like he’s chasing the thrill of being seen out in the open with you, doing something utterly vulgar with two sets of unknowing eyes just a few yards away.

Still, he doesn't care.

It's several minutes before his mouth leave yours, your lips sore and red from how he curls around you. He drops you to your feet, all smiles before he places two fingers between his lips, eyes still focused on you; whistling for that damn nag of his

-

By the time you and Arthur return to Shady Belle, the sun dips low behind the moss covered trees. The air is still thick, but the worst of the heat had passed. Your heart is still heavy and your mind still swollen frome those three little words he had said to you just a few hours ago - but you try and act like you hadn’t even heard them. Arthur dismounts his nag first, then takes you by the waist and lifts you down gently - hand lingering just a second too long as he palms your ass with a firm, deliberate squeeze.

You swat at him, “Oh, stop it,” you scold with a soft laugh, stepping ahead of him with your head turned over your shoulder.

He doesn’t apologize, just watches you walk away with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, like he knows exactly who you belong to. Like he enjoys annoying you.

But the tender moment is short lived.

“Arthur,” a familiar voice calls out.

It’s Hosea, standing at the edge of the bridge, tipping his hat as you pass. Then his eyes settle on Arthur. “Mind if we have a chat?”

Arthur’s gaze flickers to you, almost as if he's asking for your permission. You turn over your shoulder with a smile, still not used to the way he's become almost so attached he doesn't want to leave your side. But with a raised brow, you smile. “I’m gonna find Mary-Beth.” Excusing yourself into camp without another word.

Arthur watches you walk away for a few beats too long, dazy smile resting on his face. Utterly hyptonitized by the way your hips swing back and forth, turned on knowing there was nothing beneath that dress of yours.

But Hosea’s already walking, motioning with his head toward the small dock poking out near the Lannahechee River.

The gunslinger follows, completely ignorant to whatever Hosea plans to chat about - his mind still only focused on one thing; you.

“What’s this about?” Arthur asks, half paying attention, half not.

Hosea doesn’t answer right away. Just stares out at the river, at the soft ripples reflecting the light of the dying sun.

“You remember Bessie, Arthur?” Hosea says finally, turning to the outlaw with a wise smile.

The gunslinger is taken aback, but he answers, "How could I forget?"

Hosea chuckles for a moment “Course you do.” His eyes seemingly fogging over like he's trying to recall a distant memory. "I remember when she nearly tossed your entire wardrobe into the Montana, claimed it was too smelly for her to wash."

Arthur lets out a soft humorous exhale, recalling the moment from his boy hood. "Woman knew how to make her point."

Hosea's eyes lose the memory, turning to Arthur with a stiff, serious presence. “I loved her you know." The old man waits a few long seconds before turning his gaze deep into Shady Belle. “And that girl of yours… she make you happy?”

Arthur scratches at his beard, caught off guard by the question. He might have been flaunting you around camp these past two months, sure. But that didn’t mean he wanted to sit around and chat about his relationship with you, especially not with his patriarch.

Still, Arthur follows Hosea’s gaze back toward camp, where your laughter carries from the porch. You’re leaned over with Mary-Beth, face glowing, mouth wide open in pure joy as you hit her arm in amusement.

God, you’re beautiful. You were finally starting to get that glow back you once had before he took it all away from you, all those months ago.

With a soft hum and a smirk he doesn’t even realize he's staring as if he's hyptnotized by your laugh. Shaking himself out of his daze before responding, "she's a fine woman.”

Hosea’s eyes flick back to him in a matter of seconds. “But do you love her?"

Arthur’s caught off guard again, brows furrowing as he tears his gaze from you and focuses back on the older man, his voice sharp and confused. "Now why you askin' me a question like that?"

Hosea just chuckles as he notices his son's discomfort, "Cause she brings out somethin' in you that we'd all thought you lost Arthur."

A line forms between Arthur's brows before Hosea lets out a loud exhale. "You were goin' down a bad path for a while son. We all saw how you treated her back at Horshoe Overlook."

A blush of embarassment creeps onto the cowboys cheeks, knowing Hosea wasn't wrong. But even more, recalling all the unwanted chaos and hurt he'd brought you by his actions, and how embaressed he was that he was even capable of such acts.

"I know," Arthur manages to say, voice low and rough.

"She's a good girl that one. Not like you and me." Hosea goes on, his voice soft but positive. "Reminds me of my Bessie."

The cowboy looks down at the tips of his boots before shaking his head back and forth, only looking back up at Hosea as his lips part. "Now I mean no harm, Hosea," he says, squinting slightly as he hooks his thumbs into the loops of his gunbelt. "But why we talkin' bout this?"

Hosea just shakes his head, turning his gaze back to the setting sun bleeding over the river. "I went to pick up the mail yesterday, Arthur," the older man says, straightening up a bit.

Arthurs lips part, but he doesn't make a sound.

Hosea hesitates, then reaches into his satchel, fingers lingering there a moment longer than necessary. "Now, I know you're a grown man." he says, voice low and rough. "And you don't have to listen to an old fool like me."

Slowly, he pulls out a letter, the edges brushing against his wrinkled fingers. Hosea studies the envelope for a long moment, thumbs gently tracing the smooth paper, as he stares at the handwriting. But finally, his gaze lifts, steady and weighted with meaning. "I'm trustin' you not to hurt that girl again," Hosea says, voice stern with something between caution and warning.

The old man presses the envelope into Arthur’s hands, his touch firm, before throwing him one last hesitant look. And before Arthur could even reply, the patriarch turns and walks away, disseapearing back into the heart of Shady Belle.

Arthur’s eyes drop, shoulders stiff as he stares down at the letter in his hands. That damned pale purple envelope. He doesn’t need to open it to know who it’s from, he’d recognize that messy curl of handwriting anywhere.

Mary Linton.

He sighs, long and tired.

What the hell did she want now?

Part of him wants to rip the thing to shreds and throw it into the river without even opening it. But the other part, the bitter, bruised part of him remembers her voice too well. Remembers that last day in Valentine, the look in her eyes before she stepped onto that train like everything she'd ever gone through was his fault.

And it pisses him off.

But worse.

It makes him curious.

His thumb runs under the wax seal, opening the letter against better judgement. And then he’s reading it, eyes skimming over Mary Linton's wonderfully messy handwriting like she was writing to him like they were twenty two again.

A thanks for helping Jamie.

Blaming him, again, for not being the man she could marry.

And a new request; come see her in Saint Denis.

Of course she’s in Saint Denis.

Out of all the places a woman of her standing could be, she just had to be in the same city Arthur was no more than an hour's ride from.

Of course it had to be like that.

It didn’t matter where she went. Mary Linton could’ve written from the edge of Earth, and she knew Arthur Morgan would find a way to get to her. That was the kind of man she had made him into.

Nothing more than a pathetic dog.

But this time, something felt changed.

He’s read that damn letter four times before he lifts his head up from it, holding it tighter than he should have. And as he walks back into camp, he can't help but to feel completely conflicted.

His heart doesn’t belong to Mary anymore, not all of it at the least, Maybe half. Maybe less. The rest... that part was yours. You’d stolen it so quietly he hadn’t even noticed how far it had slipped out of his control.

Hosea had been right, he had become a miserable bastard. But with you, things felt... less so. You made him better. Or tried to. And he wanted to be that man, for you.

But still.

He felt torn in two. Like a man wrestling with a giant.

He shoves the letter into his coat pocket, muttering a curse under his breath, as he trudges towards the center of camp. The cowboy grabs a bowl of stew from the pot bubbling over the open flame, and then a bottle of warm beer from Pearson’s wagon, doing his best to try and clear his mind, and fill his stomach.

He finds the table at the center of camp, empty besides a couple scattered dishes. It only takes a handful of minutes until his spoon is scraping the bottom of the tin bowl as he takes his final bite, but his mind is still caught in the mess of the past. Confliction and guilt tearing him up inside .

But then theres you - bouncing over, smiling like nothing’s wrong in the whole damn world. You drop into his lap with a laugh, arms winding around his neck, eyes soft and wide.

Still wearing nothing underneath.

Your fingers trace his chest, up to his chin, thumb brushing against the roughness of his jaw with a smile. You hesitate for just a moment before saying the words that have been eating you up inside since the afternoon.

“I love you too.”

Four words. Light and easy. But to a man like Arthur Morgan, it was nothing but bullets raining from your mouth.

The gunslinger stiffens. His brow furrowing, nose scrunching like he’s confused, irritated even.

“Why’s you say that?” he mutters, voice low and almost offended.

Your smile instantly drops, freezing for just a moment in his arms before slipping out of his lap and standing up. Blinking at him like he's pulled out his Cattleman's Revolver and shot you straight in the gut.

“Well... this afternoon...” you swallow uncertainly as a worry line forms between your brows, thumbs tangling together in something between frustration and worry.

And then, in the midst of everything, he remembers what he said when he was inside you just hours ago. Flushed and stupid, in the heat of the moment.

He hadn’t lied.

But he also never planned on saying those words so carelessly. Forgetting that he had even admitted that so recklessly to you. The words had flowed from his mouth like instinct, yet, he hadn't thought you'd take them seriously.

For god sake's he was balls deep inside you - you should have known better.

“Yeah, I remember,” he interupts you, much colder than what he means to be. “Just... don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

Your jaw sets and something tightens behind your ribs.

Don’t wanna talk about it?

Talk about what?

Could he not even say it to you?

You fold your arms, bitter laughter bubbling in your gut before you can stop yourself.

“What? Can only say you love me when you’re eight inches deep?”

Arthur rolls his eyes, sighing as his fingers reach for his temples, “You know that ain’t what I meant.”

But you do. You do know. Because this is Arthur Morgan. And no matter how much you love him, no matter how much he'd swear he's changed. He hadn't. Wouldn't. And more than likely - couldn't change. And tonight, he makes you feel like a fool for trying to believe otherwise.

Without thinking a bitter scowl deepens on your face as you grab his beer and dump what’s left of it on his shirt, dropping the glass bottle rather dramatically on the grass next to him. The stew stained tin clatters as he pushes back from the table, arms jolting as he tries to shake off the warm beer now soaking his chest. His jaw sets like stone as his eyes cling to you with nothing but frustration. But before he can say anything, you turn around and shuffle away with tears in your eyes.

“Stupid whore!” He barks after you, the words cutting much deeper than they would have just months ago, when things weren't so serious.

And it’s not until you’re far enough away to cry without being seen, that it really sinks in.

Arthur Morgan couldn't change.

...

It feels like he’d been punched in the gut.

Arthur drags himself up the splintered, rotting staircase of Shady Belle, the weight of everything making him feel that with any step he could fall through. And against better judgement, halfway up the staircase he yanks the damn letter from his pocket again, eyes scanning the words he already knew by heart.

Mary Linton.

God, he was such a fool.

Why hadn’t he just said it back? Why couldn’t he have been normal for once - just said I love you, kissed you breathless, carried you upstairs and fucked you so good you’d say it again and again until he forgot anyone else ever existed?

But no.

You had to say it then, when Mary was still sitting heavy on his chest like a ghost that refused to let go. Right when his heart was stuck in a tug of war. Unsure if he was ready to let go of the past or ready to start really choosing you.

And now, with you gone and that broken look still burned in his memory, all he had was silence. And no matter what the silence meant, he knew one thing.

That his small bed would feel much bigger without you in it tonight.

Arthur tosses the letter onto the chipped old armoire in the corner his room, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. He strips off his beer soaked overshirt, finding his way to his bed as his rubs at his temples. Everything from Mary Linton to you, running a marathon through his brain.

And it isn't more than a few seconds later that he leans back, trying to atleast dream to forget the day.

...

Arthur wakes up later than usual, head foggy, and eyes heavy. Light from the cracked window bleeds into dusty room like some open wound. He blinks, the slight haze from his tired eyes clearing just enough that he could sense movement.

His body stiffens.

You were there.

Standing near the armoire, you're wearing nothing but a thin, pale chemise that catches the sunlight just right. Your nipples peak through the silky fabric in such a way that Arthur almost forgets yesterday as a whole. You look like an angel, something so pure, so opposite of the man he was.

But your eyes... your eyes were wide and wet, lip trembling as he watches you gulp in horror.

And in your hand.

That letter.

He sits up fast, breath catching in his throat. A surge of heat burning in his chest. Guilt, rage and shame. Twisting together into something dangerous.

Your eyes catch him, looking down at him like he's just shot you like some dirty O'driscoll.

“Came up here to apologize,” you gulp, voice cracking like you might break in two. “Don’t even know why" you nearly laugh as you roll your eyes to the ceiling. "Apologizin?...... Apoligizin' for tellin’ you I love you…”

You wipe several away with the back of your hand, trying to hide the emotion now lacing your voice. “Well now I know why.”

Arthur’s jaw ticks.

Doesn't speak.

After a nearly restless night, Arthur had decided Mary wasn’t even worth the trouble in the end. But if you were so damn hell bent on painting him as the bad guy then fine. He’d play the damn part.

He's always been good at it anyway.

He sneers as he gets up from the bed, angry that you were already throwing baseless accusations at him at the crack of dawn. But as heat stirs in his chest, he ruffles through his wardrobe anyway. Searching for some nice overshirt that he'd know Mary would at least appreciate, and maybe one that could teach you lesson.

For snooping. For touching things that weren’t yours.

It didn't take a scholar to figure out that he was pissed.

Not just at you for going through his things but at himself, for leaving the damn letter out in the first place. For getting close enough to you that stupid shit like this even mattered. It was Mary for God sakes, it's not like she'd even ever want him back.

Just a game of back and forth that they'd always play, and he'd entertain.

You step toward him as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Don’t ignore me,” you snap, voice cracking under the weight of every emotion you've ever had for him.

He turns to you slowly, something hard and venomous behind his eyes and the look he gives you himself poisons you.

“You had no right to go through my things,” he growls, nose flaring like a wild dog. “Ain’t your business what I do. Think just ‘cause I fuck you that means you get to own me?”

The words were sharp, cruel, meant to slice deep. And as much as every flick of his tongue stabbed you, you couldn't help but to feel that he was lying.

You had seen it for a while now, last night even, when had asked you with his eyes for permission to talk to Hosea. Deep down you knew he was just projecting.

But you still flinch, lip trembling again, eyes wide with something between disbelief and heartbreak. Mary's letter still fresh on your mind, his words still bleeding you dry.

And without another word, he brushes past you, out his bedroom door, down the creaking staircase.

You don't hesitate to chase after him. Mary’s letter still crushed in your fist, your feet pounding down the stairs after him. You loved him for god sake, you refused to believe any of his fighting words. Refused to believe that he would choose some ghost of a woman over you.

He storms through the front doors like he was being chased by something a hell of a lot worse than the woman barely stumbling behind him. But your mouth still spits hell fire. "You goin’ to see her?" you accuse him.

He doesn’t answer.

Doesn't even look at you.

You follow him into the heart of camp, the morning air cool and damp against your bare feet. Your voice raising, louder now. Angry, so that anyone could hear.

“So all of this... nothin’ to you?!” Your eyes widen in worry as you march after him like a bat out of hell. "Jus' some waste of my time?"

People turn and watch, but Arthur doesn't stop. Face laced with an etched scowl, eyes locked on his Turkoman and nothing else.

"You bastard!" you shout, grabbing at his shoulder, trying to pull him back to you. Stop him from leaving. "Least look at me! Say it to my face! Tell me I wasn’t enough! Tell me you don’t want me.”

He turns so fast you take a step backward on instinct. His glare vicious, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. A whole entirely different man than you'd come to know...come to love.

“You weren’t,” he snaps, voice low and mean, like he wanted to hurt you. “And you’ll ain’t ever be her.”

Your mouth drops open, wind knocking from you like a punch to the ribs.

Sure, you’d never be Mary. But you swore that what you and Arthur had shared was more real than the dress sitting on your damn body, then the mud stained to his boots.

You had seen it. Saw it. Nursed it back from the fucking dead.

Just to lose him to some woman that'd never let him go.

In one last act, you grab at his shoulder, letting him hear your final plea as he starts to mount his horse. You heart nearly breaking in two.

"If you ride off to see her, I'm done, Arthur," you spit, voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness. "I’m leavin'.... won't be here when you come ridin' back."

Arthur’s hand freezes on the reins.

Then, slowly, he looks down at you.

Sneerig.

With a jerk of his arm, he violently pulls his arm out of your grip - hard enough to send you stumbling. You trip on a raised root, falling straight onto your behind in the overgrown grass. Legs cocked open pathetically, palms weighing heavy on the ground. Gulping like he'd shoved you down with the force of a million words.

He leans forward in the saddle, adjusting himself as his cold eyes stare at your sad excuse of a body.

“And where you gonna even go?” he asks, voice sharp and cruel, almost as a laugh because in reality he knew you had no one. He gives you one hard stare before digging his spurs into his nag. Leaving you with nothing but the echo of his departure, and the last pieces of your dignity.

For moments you sit there, on the knotting grass. Horses shuffling all around you as tears stream hot down your flushed cheeks, fists clenched in the grass, chest heaving with the reality of your situation.

Caught up in a mess of Arthur Morgan once again.

And the worst part?

He was right.

You had nowhere to go. And he knew it. Knew that you couldn’t go if you tried, no money, no family, just the familiarity of a Van Der Linde family that was starting to eat each other from the inside.

But in a mess of feelings and tears, you feel the rush of a set of arms engulfing you into a warm hug. It’s Abigail Roberts, her frame slight but her hold firm. She sits with you, stroking your hair, whispering soft comforts even as her voice shakes with something that sounds like fury. “That no good son of a bitch,” she mutters, pulling back just enough to wipe away your tears with her thumbs.

Your eyes meet hers, they're icy and firm, telling a million stories but also a million warnings. “I love him,” you croak, barely able to get the words out.

Abigail had known that kind of heart splintering pain. She’d felt it more times than she could count with John. But you? Still young, still unshackled, no child clinging to your hip, no ring on your finger. The black haired beauty was smarter than what she gave off, she knew what had to happen.

“You gotta get out of here, darlin’,” she says, rising to her feet and offering a hand to help her.

You sob.

That was your last promise to Arthur anyway, wasn’t it?

“I got no money. Nowhere to go,” you cry, shaking your head, voice breaking as all you wanted truly was to be gone. Forget him. Forget everything. Respect yourself enough to stop playing outlaw.

Abigail’s mouth tightens, leading you beneath the shade of her tent, easing you down on her cot. She rifles through her wardrobe as you broken sobs still escpae your mouth. But in the midst of it all, she pulls out a thick, lumpy sock, and turns back toward you. “Was gonna use this for myself, once upon a time,” she says, tugging out a fistful of cash, slapping it on her hand a few times. “But it’s too late for me. Not for you.”

Your eyes are wide, still glistening, staring at the chunk of bills resting in her hand. Your lips parting as she attempts to slip the wad into your hand.

“I - I can’t...” you whisper, cheeks wet with tears and hesitation.

“No, you are,” she cuts in, firmer than you’ve ever heard from her. Something maternal in her tone, something resolute. “Trust me, a girl like you’s got a future. A bright one. Brighter than whatever all this is.” She pauses, her voice softer now. “And Arthur....better leave now before you wake up a few days late with a swollen stomach."

Your gaze locks with hers, wide and wordless.

Her words hit you harder than you thought they would.

And suddenly you understood.

It was time to go.

...

Twenty minutes later, you’re back in the room you’ve shared with Arthur for the past month. His clothes are still scattered around, his beer stained overshirt from last night crumpled at the foot of the bed. You wonder who’ll wash it now, it wouldn't be you this time.

You gulp and reach beneath the bed, pulling out the old suitcase you brought with you to Milwaukee all those years ago, chasing something better. It had belonged to your mother before Typhoid took her.

You pop it open. Inside: a few forgotten pieces of a past life. A locket with your parents’ faces inside. A shirt you never wore but couldn’t throw away. And a small black and white portrait from Blackwater, the one you took hours before Arthur took your innocence.

You stare at the photo. Less than a year had passed, but you hardly recognize the girl in it. Smiling, light still untouched. So different from who you are now. Used and broken.

And before you pack the last of your things, you set the portrait on the table beside Arthur’s bed.

You wanted to forget him, forget the hurt.

But part of you, wanted him to remember.

Wanted him haunted.

...

Outside the rotting mansion, Hosea stands waiting. Pulling you into a soft, fatherly hug, his voice low with sorrow. “I’m sorry, girl,” he murmurs.

He’d seen it all. Last night’s heartbreak, this morning’s silence. He watched Arthur ride off, watched Abigail hand you that money with trembling hands and a tight jaw. Heard her beg you to go. Guilt weighing on his shoulders as he knew the cowboy would still be here if he hadn't handed him the letter.

But Arthur was a god damn adult. And Hosea had agreed with Abigail, better to leave now before other circumstances could tie you to him.

And as much as it hurt Hosea to see you go, he couldn't help to feel relieved. To at least know someone was getting out.

You swallow hard. Tears gone, but grief remain.

You weren’t just leaving Arthur.

You were leaving the only family you’d known for years. The people that had taken you in when you had nothing to show, and no one to care for you. Family more than friends at this point.

“Say your goodbyes,” Hosea says gently. “I’ll take you to Rhodes. Buy you a train ticket to wherever you need to go.”

...

The streets of Saint Denis buzz with life, hooves clicking on cobblestone as the sun shines high in the midst of the Lemoyne sky. Mary Linton’s delicate arm loops through Arthur’s as they step out of the Rauler Theatre, both of them smiling.

Arthur could admit it, he’d had a good time. How could he not? Mary had once been his world. Maybe part of him would always feel something for her. But as they strolled toward the trolley stop, shoulder to shoulder through the heavy air of the city, something felt utterly different.

Hollow.

There was no fire in his chest. No ache. No heat behind his eyes.

It felt less like love and more like memory, a good time with an old friend. Sonething he could cheerish, but didn't need to survive.

And that’s when he remembered you.

The way you made his pulse jump with just your smile. The way your voice sounded like angel's singing, even if you were just telling him off. He remembered the way you smiled even when he didn’t deserve it. And then, above everything, he remembered the way you looked at him the last time. Eyes full of hurt, mouth trembling as he shoved you away.

While Arthur just didn't want to feel controlled, you felt betrayed.

And sow all he felt was sick.

His boots slow on the busy sidewalk. Coming to full stop without truly realizing where he was or who he was with.

“Arthur?” Mary’s voice breaks through his deep haze.

He blinks, realizing he hadn’t heard a word she had said since they left the old threatre. “Sorry,” he mutters.

She watches him for a beat, her chocolate eyes unreadable. “I said... is it too late for us?” Her voice cracking slightly, more a plea than a question as she holds his hands tighter.

Arthur inhales through his nose, heavy and ragged. He knew the answer. Had known it for a long time.

“I can’t lie, Mary. I... I got a woman back home” he says quietly, almost embaressed. Gently slipping her arm from his.

Mary’s expression falters for a brief moment, her face clearing from any found emotion. But in a few short seconds she grins with a sense of meloncholy.

“ And I ain’t even reall sure why I’m here,” Arthur adds, voice breaking with sudden clarity, the weight of his betrayal sinking in. “I shouldn’t’ve come. I’m sorry.”

Mary nods, her composure surprisingly steady despite the slight shimmer in her eyes. “Treat her better than me,” she says simply.

And in a second, Arthur turns and leaves, heart pounding, stomach in knots.

He’d fucked up.

But more than anything did he want to fix it.

Not with words. Not with excuses. But with a promise.

By the time he reached the jeweler, his hand was already on the wad of cash. He didn’t want something stolen. Didn’t want some stolen ring from a fence.

No, this had to be real. Something with weight. With meaning.

Something that said: I’m yours. For good.

Something with a promise.

...

Back at the train station, the sky had started to turn grey. Rain slightly drizzling over the covered platform as Hosea tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle as always.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, a small tear falling down your cheek.

“I’m scared,” you admit, glancing down at the train ticket in your hand. You hadn’t told him where you were going. You figured it was safer that way, for everyone involved. Hosea hadn’t asked either. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe he just didn’t want Arthur beating it out of him in the long run.

It didn't take much for you to imagine the storm of Arthur riding back into camp. Throwing tongue every which way when he realized his bed whore had gone missing.

The twisted thought slightly comforted you. You knew Arthur well enough to atleast know he would be mad at your departure, no matter what he had told you before he left

“You can always write,” he says, voice full of hope “Don’t know how long we’ll be at Shady Belle, though. You know Dutch.”

You manage a watery laugh." Oh,I know." You falter for a few moments as you gaze into the wisdom laced eyes of Hosea, his soft look sending you into a spin of tears. “I’m just scared of being…”'

"Alone," he finishes your sentence.

He chuckles. “We can’t be such a great bunch that you think there’s no one better out there.”

You give him a humorous look, tears still staining your cheeks. A happy goodbye. “You know that ain’t what I mean.”

The train’s whistle shrieks in the distance. Passengers begining to stir from their seats, grabbing bags, shuffling to the edge of the platform.

Hosea turns to face the tracks, then glances back to you. “Promise me one thing,” he says, his voice low and firm.

You looked up, eyes wide like a doe.

“Don’t come back lookin' for us. Save yourself."

...

Arthur’s horse thunders down the muddy path toward Shady Belle, his coat soaked and his wallet a few hundred dollars lighter. The gold ring in his pocket - a golden band with a pearl in the center - feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.

He imagined you wearing it. Naked on the banks of Ringneck Creek, riding him, the ring catching sunlight as your hand brushes over his hair.

Utterly his.

The camp is quiet as he gallops in. He doesn't even bother to untack his horse, too charged with excitement. He leaps off and storms through like a mad man, eyes scanning the outlaw camp for any sightings of you.

You weren’t there.

But your strange dissapearence doesn't even register until two small fists beat into his back.

“You no good son of a...”

He spins, catching Abigail Roberts wrists mid swing. She thrashes against his grip, wild with rage.

“What the hell?” Arthur stammers, confused and surprised it wasn't you beating on him. He would understand if it was you, warranted in fact.

But Abigail?

“She’s gone, you bastard!” the black haired beauty snarls, driving her boot into his groin as hard she can.

Arthur collapses, wheezing as he drops her arms from his grip.

From scross camp, John jogs over, taking his wife's arms behind her back in anyway to control her.

Arthur's painful wheezes dissapear in a moment's time, turning to an almost panic.

“What...what she mean? She's gone?” he coughs as he looks up at John for clarification.

John grimaces. “She’s gone, Arthur. She left."

Arthur froze.

Gone?

No.

You couldn’t ride a horse nowhere, wouldn't dare try to find your way in swamps like these. And above everything - you had said you loved him, just last night.

You wouldn't leave.

And he was ready now. Finally ready to love you back the way you deserved.

His stomach twisted, panic shifting to fury, anger.

He turned to John, eyes flashing. “Where did you take her? Couldn’t stand that I was happy for one good time in my life. ”

John face drops, angry the accusation. "I ain't take nowhere," John sneers, holding Abigail back from trying to rip Arthur to pieces. "But I don't blame her for leavin' your ass in the dust."

If John wasn't using Abigail as if she was a human sheild, Arthur would of tore his equal to shreds. But before he could push the black haired woman away, a gentle voice cuts through the shouting.

Arthur turns, all eyes finding Hosea. The old man sits at the dominoes table, calm as ever. Standing up and pushing his chair in without his eyes leaving the table.

"I took her to the train station in Rhodes Arthur," he speaks

Arthur’s anger breaks, replaced by something broken and raw.

“I told you not to hurt her,” Hosea says, eyes finally meeting the cowboys. More dissapointed than ever .

Arthur couldn’t keep his gaze. His head dipping, eyes glueing to his boots. Shame rolling over him like a wave. If it had been anyone else -John, Bill, even Dutch, he’d have thrown fists.

But it was Hosea.

The one who warned him. The only who told him to do better.

Arthur’s voice cracks as he breaks the silence, barely above a whisper. “Where is she?”

Hosea shakes his head.

“Gone, she's gone Arthur."

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 14

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, fluff (yes fluff this time), lying, talk of abuse, swearing, mentions of death and cancer

Word Count: 6500

Summary: Your stay at Bob's is over and it's time to go back to work. It's different this time, knowing the two of you are on the same page, and you're excited to see where it takes you. Even if that means hiding it from everyone else.

A/N: I'm back my beautiful folks, it only took me being disappointed in real men again to want to write about the perfect fake one. That and Thunderbolts. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I love to hear what you think and I am very happy to be back :) (reblogs and comments make me happy btw)

It's also been so long I hope the taglist is accurate (but pls let me know if you want to be added or I missed you)

Masterlist

That weekend you don’t spend the entire time holed up in your room. You don’t cry again. And you don’t shut yourself off to the world. You see a reason to look for the sun behind the clouds, and when it finally emerges that Sunday afternoon, you take the time to allow yourself to feel it warm your skin. The gleam reflecting on that delicate butterfly pendant is what wakes you, and you know everything is going to be ok.

You’re at ease with your dad, granted, he’s still a bit upset with you. But “upset” with your dad means he just sighs at you every couple of hours and remembers that he loves you after he forgets what he was mad about. When he does that though, you get a little gnawing of guilt in the back of your head. Like his exhalation of breath is steadily blowing up a balloon of your own wrongdoings that could pop at any second.

As you get ready for work the next morning, combing your hair back so not a single stray stands out, you’re being pulled in different directions. Your dad wants to see you succeed, and you want him to be able to do that… from a safe distance. He and everybody else at work are your painful reality. And sometimes it’s good to remind yourself you can’t have everything. Not yet. On the other hand, you want to be happy outside of your career. And you think Bob can do that for you. More importantly you’re hoping you can do that for Bob.

Patience is a virtue, but you’ve decidedly been patient for long enough. For multiple things. Now you’re ready to take what you want. Even as your father’s bike rumbles out of the garage, you’re impatiently fiddling with your flight suit in the mirror. Your eyes run up and down your form several times, almost like anyone would notice a single wrinkle. Even so, you still find yourself smoothing out any irregularity, until you reach your face.

You had thought about covering the bruise with makeup, just to avoid the questioning. But what do you have to hide? This one was an accident this time.

She had usually refrained from actually hitting you in the face. Mostly just pushing and grabbing at your wrists to get your attention. It wasn’t uncommon for her to grip your chin in her cold hands and force you to look at her, but that rarely left any kind of mark to be covered. Only when she was uncontrollably angry would she leave a mark that could be so blatantly seen, so hard to cover up. One of those including the last time you saw her. When she left you crying on the floor of your bedroom while she made her plans to change the locks the next morning.

Often the blows to your face would be an open palm. One that would hurt enough to leave a sting and a faint flush that would be gone as quick as it came. The feeling, however, wouldn't disappear as fast. You’d be stuck with the memory of the burning sensation and gut wrenching fear for the rest of your life. There’s the occasional scar you’ll remember every once in a while that you’ll try to rub off from over your shirt or pants. But it’s already become a part of you. A part of your story you try not to dwell on no matter how hard your brain tries to get you to revisit.

A knock to the door has you flinching as you run to answer. Bob stands with his hands behind his back and dares to look surprised as you answer.

“Hey”, he greets you with a smile.

“Hey”, you breathlessly smile back. “You know you could have just texted me, right?”

“Uh”, he scratches the back of his neck as he walks you to his truck, “I guess, but that didn’t feel right to me.” He stands to open your door, and once again you are floored by this man’s chivalry. You smile as he slides in on his side.

The streets are still damp with whatever water mother nature rained down last night, and the slight chill from the walk to Bob’s truck gives you goosebumps under your flight suit. As Bob pulls away the radio turns on and he starts humming to the familiar Johnny Cash tune. You turn and smirk as he absentmindedly mouths the words.

“I fell into the burning ring of fire”, he mutters as you shake your head. He turns at the motion. “What?”

“You are not beating those country boy allegations, Bob Floyd.”

“Who said I was denying them?”, he asks with a nervous smirk.

The drive is short, but comfortable. Eventually your hands drift closer together the further into your conversation. But it’s cut short when you make it to the front gates. At the sight you pull your hand back to your lap. Bob tries not to take offense, he knows he’ll have to get used to this part.

Bob parks his truck and the two of you stare at the building in front of you. You’re both so unsure of how things are going to look when you step inside, but you know you’ll have each other.

“Hey”, Bob gently knocks his hand into your knee, “You ok?”

“Yeah”, you nod. This is something you’re good at, you remind yourself. Pretending. “We’re just carpooling to work for the same reasons we told my dad, ok?” Bob furrows his brow and nods, as if taking orders from a superior. “If anyone asks, stick to the story. And if you have to tell anyone, don’t make it sound too rehearsed or too casual.” His brow ticks up and you elaborate, “There’s a fine line in there- but you already did a good job with my dad. So, nothing to worry about, right?” 

His brow is still furrowed in concentration but he forces the uptick of a smile. A grimace is what it is. You sigh and on instinct reach out to grab his hand before stopping and folding it in your lap instead. You realize you should have had a conversation before going to work, but this will have to do for now. “Just- act normal. We’re friends.”

“We are friends, Mantis”, he adds as you try not to get lost in his eyes. You know what he means. You were friends before you realized what you meant to each other, and you’re still friends. Nothing is going to change that.

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

You’re putting your bag in your locker when you hear Halo and Phoenix’s voices echoing across the tile. Taking a shallow breath, you grab what you need and turn to face them as they walk in.

“Morning!”, you smile.

“Morning, Mantis”, Phoenix responds before even looking at you. And then she turns. “Oh my GOD! What happened?!”, she asks as she gets close enough to inspect the bruise. 

“It was an accident, I took a baseball to the face on Friday”, you tell her as she scrutinizes the mark.

“Why the hell would you even be near a baseball? There’s no need for-”, she stops herself before the steam starts pouring out of her ears. If you ever had any doubt she was protective-  “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine”, you smile. Mostly just enraptured with the concern etched into her features. 

“Ok… But say the word and I will be ready to bash in some skulls.” Begrudgingly, Phoenix allows you to finish what you were doing as Halo grimaces at your face. The three of you go on with your morning, walking to the classroom only to be greeted by more eyes on you. You’re really not meaning to, but you catch on to Bob as he gives you a small smile.

And even as Fanboy starts speaking, your eyes stop on Rooster as he sits in the back, head resting on his fist. You’re sure if no one was talking you could audibly hear him gulp as he eyes your bruise in regret.

“Whoa-”, Fanboy stares, “What the hell happened to your face?”. You stare at him straight in the eye as everyone else looks on.

“That’s rude”, you playfully scoff, “I don’t go around asking what’s wrong with your face”, you deadpan as Payback laughs from beside him.

“Man, c’mon”, he mutters as you smile.

“I wasn’t paying attention when playing catch. Not a big deal”, you finally tell him as you sit behind Bob. He tries best not to stare, but then his eyes move behind you and you almost swear there’s a glare under those lenses as he glances at Rooster.

“Welcome back everyone!”, your dad announces as he takes his place at the podium. “Glad to see you’re all in good shape”, his eyes graze the room and he winces at his choice of words once he sees you, “Well, most of you anyway.” You do your best not to roll your eyes as he gets on with the objectives for the week.

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

When lunch rolls around you’re feeling good. You’ve had the chance to get in the air, just to practice a few basic maneuvers, no dog fights quite yet, but you’re ready for whatever gets thrown your way. Everyone else is already in the mess hall, and you take the chance to enjoy the blue skies as you walk to join Bob. Still, you’re made aware of someone walking next to you and with a glance you realize the tall doofus is Rooster. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him glancing at your face again. You really thought after Friday he was going to try and stay away. But you guess it’s hard when you have to see each other every day at work.

“Can I help you-”

“Why are you covering for me?”, he asks, interrupting you. You furrow your brow and continue on. “You could have told them it was my fault.” You can’t help but scoff.

“I’m not gonna stir the pot, there’s no need for them to hate you more than they already do.” He huffs, half out of laughing and the other out of the truth.

“Well thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” You make it to the entrance of the mess hall and spot Bob waiting for you at his usual table. He hasn’t seen you yet, and you’re reminded of what made you run to him in the first place.

Rooster goes to walk off to his sad little table by himself, but at the last second you stop him.

“Wait”, he turns at your voice, “That box that you brought over, how long did you have it?” He shrugs, thinking back.

“A long time. I didn’t even know I had it until I started moving.” 

“Did you have any idea what was in there?” He shuffles on his feet and starts picking at his thumbs. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid.

“I knew there was a letter for you. I didn’t open it. There was one for me, too.” He’s trying his best to look anywhere but at you. “Listen, if I knew what was in there I wouldn’t have left it sitting in storage for sixteen years.” He knows he’s not going to be on your good side in the near future. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to lie about this, and you’re inclined to believe him.

“Ok. Thank you.” The two of you stand there, longing to say anything else about the subject, to hear anything from a woman the two of you held so dear. Instead he clenches and unclenches his fist near his side. A way to stop himself from encroaching on your boundaries.

“You’re welcome”, he mutters indignantly. You sigh as you watch him walk away. Shaking the interaction off you make your way over to Bob.

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

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. The rest of the week actually. Not a single thing out of place. Which unnerves you. Your dad has everyone back up in the air, practicing evasive maneuvers, target practice, any kind of skill the Navy doesn’t want rusting up before going back overseas. Whenever that’ll be.

You eventually tell Bob that he doesn’t have to walk up to your door every time he picks you up, but even as he texts you that he’s there, he’s waiting to open his truck door for you. And everytime it gets harder and harder to hide how giddy he makes you feel. You’re sure you can see on his face how he doesn’t tire of it. Almost like every time you walk out the door, he’s seeing you for the first time. And it makes you feel special. He makes you feel special. 

Even when you don’t see each other over the weekend, the first weekend in a while that you decide not to see each other, you’re still texting almost nonstop. Your dad decided to spend the weekend with you, which you’re grateful for, but it’s kind of hard to pay attention to The Goonies when Bob keeps sending you pictures of Sylvia sleeping in precarious positions.

“What’re you laughing at?”, your dad asks as you shut your phone off.

“Nothing, just a stupid meme Phoenix sent me”, you easily lie before he turns back to the movie.

“Something I wouldn’t understand I’m assuming?” You fix your attention on his face in the glow of the tv. You take your concerns and shove them to the back of your mind as he chuckles at Sloth and Chunk sharing a Baby Ruth.

“No. Probably not.”

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

“Dude, why have you been giving Mantis rides for the past week?”, Fanboy asks Bob as he sits down across from him.. Bob swallows his mouth full of food before remembering to stay calm, despite his accelerated heart rate. He shrugs in an attempt to make it seem, as you said “casual”.

“Her car’s in the shop after she came over to help me look for Sylvia. She ran out during the storm, and while Mantis was helping me look her car took some damage.” He glances at Fanboy, who shrugs and decides it makes sense. But right as Bob thinks he’s in the clear, Fanboy has to pipe up again.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped” Bob tries not to laugh as he remembers Sylvia booking it upstairs last time Fanboy came around.

“If she saw you, she would have run the other way.”

“Yet you called Mantis.”

“It’s cause Syl actually likes her.” Bob sees the real distress on his face as he picks at his food.

“You told me she was just shy”, he shrugs in response as you take your seat next to him.

“Hey, what happened to your car?”, Fanboy asks as you dig into your lunch. Your hand freezes for a split second. Bob can almost see it in real time how you adjust from your relaxed self.

“Oh, that- Well a palm tree fell on it and-”

“A palm tree?”, he almost shouts.

“Yes, a palm tree. Shop says it’ll take a while to have everything fixed, but they’ll be able to do it.” Bob wonders why you haven’t said anything to him about it. He tried asking you on a ride home last week why you wouldn’t just get a new car if the damage was that extensive, but you brushed him off. Saying something about how the car’s sentimental to you. Even if it is a hunk of junk.

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

Even in late September the heat radiating off the runway is enough to make you sweat. Not only that, but you’re about to head up in your jet which will make it even harder to see straight. You’re not gonna complain, though. It could be worse. You could be stuck in Lemoore, landlocked without a beach in sight. At least here you get the ocean breeze.

An arm makes its way across your shoulders, and you don’t even need to look over to know who it is.

“You ready to kick some ass?”, Phoenix asks as she marches alongside you. You can’t help but laugh. She’s been saying the same iteration of the same few words since you met. Whether it was for a test you stayed up late studying for, teaming up for a game of beer pong, and even when she threatened to go kick your ex’s ass when she lovingly named him “lieutenant douchebag”. But that’s a whole other story in itself. Just another time she had your back.

“You bet I am”, you respond with determination. Bob jogs up and meets Phoenix on her other side. You give him a look from over your sunglasses and he clears his throat.

“Hey Phoenix, your boot’s untied”, he points to her shoes as the three of you stop.

“You guys go on ahead”, she shoos you to keep walking as she kneels to relace her boot. The rest of the tarmac is almost empty, save for the few technicians tending to the jets. Still, you keep a safe amount of distance between yourself and Bob as you leisurely make your way further.

“So uh-”, Bob starts as you turn to spare a glance in his direction, “Are you doing anything Friday?”

“Depends on what you’re about to ask me”, you say with a small smirk.

“Well, I was wondering if…”, he stops to take a look around before continuing, scratching the back of his neck in the process, “maybe that might be a good day to go on that date we talked about?” Your knee jerk reaction is to smile, and it takes everything in you to chew your lip and look straight ahead.

“Yeah”, you cough, “That would work.” Phoenix makes her way back to the two of you and the conversation ends there. Bob nearly trips over his own feet as he tries to get a last glance of you when you stop at your jet, and you have to turn away in order not to laugh.

“Whoa, you alright there Floyd?”, you hear Phoenix ask him.

“Yeah- yeah I’m alright”, he mutters as you sneak a look at him. He catches your eye and your smile wins over.

That drive home you don’t hesitate to take his hand when his truck rolls off base. You try to hide your smile by staring out the window, but Bob can still see it in the way your eyes crinkle at the sides. He simply squeezes your hand and keeps on driving. 

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

As soon as Friday rolls around, you’re having trouble trying to suppress your excitement for the night. Even as you beat Coyote in a dogfight, he raises an eyebrow at your overly animated figure giving him finger guns as he falls to do his pushups.

“Better luck next time Coyote!”, you throw over your shoulder as you head to lunch.

“Something’s different about you”, Phoenix comments under a squint while she points at you with her fork. She has you abruptly swallowing the bite of your lunch you were still chewing and you clear your throat before you choke.

“What are you talking about?”, you attempt to brush it off without even looking at her.

“I don’t know”, she muses. “You seem… lighter.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”, you ask with a dry laugh.

“No”, she waves her fork around again. Now sending salad dressing flying in specks over the table. “I just wanna know what changed.”

“Well”, you shift in your seat, “I have a standing therapy appointment every Wednesday and that’s been helpful.” Her eyes light up as she smiles. You didn’t realize you were so transparent. But maybe that’s just Phoenix. And your dad. They can see right through you even when you have trouble seeing yourself. Which is what makes it even harder to lie to them.

“That’s great!”, you nod in agreement and there’s a pause in the conversation before she mutters, “I thought you were on drugs or something.” You nearly spit your food out at the accusation.

“You do know what we do for a living, right? That’s a one-way ticket out of here.”

“I know, and I know you’re not the kind of person to go for that kind of thing… but it was just a big change in the last couple weeks.”

“Yeah”, you shrug, “I guess I just decided to stop wallowing and actually do something about it. Do things that will make me happy.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep up with it. I don’t like seeing mopey Mantis, it makes me sad.”

“I was not being mopey”, you can’t help but scoff, even if there’s a bit of truth to her words.

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

Bob drops you off at your house as per usual, but this time he lets you know he’ll be back to pick you up at 6:30. You nod and squeeze his hand one last time before running out of his truck and into the house. That’s only two hours from now so you decide to start getting ready immediately. Wash the smell of jet fuel off of your skin. Primp yourself in a way that you haven’t in a long time.

Oh god, you don’t even remember the last time you had to get ready for a date. This was different though. This was Bob.

Of course, even if you are happy like you told Phoenix, not everything goes exactly the way you intend it to. Now for example. Bob will be picking you up for your date in the next few minutes and your dad is supposed to be with Penny tonight. The sound of his bike pulling into the driveway gives way for the first crack in this whole plan. This is how it starts, you think to yourself.

“Whoa, why are you all dolled up?”, your dad’s voice stops you in your tracks as you cap the lipgloss you just got done swiping on. He was not supposed to be here, damn it.

“What, a girl can’t wear a dress for no reason anymore?”, you try to brush him off. In your defense it is a basic yellow sundress, not that the man can differentiate any kind of dress from another. To him any kind of dress or skirt equals fancy.

“No”, he reasons, “Just wondering why you’re wearing one to go dogsit.” You scrunch your nose in frustration. Ensuring your cover, you told your dad you were dog sitting Sylvia while Bob went on a date. Which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Oh I don’t know, I’m just sick of wearing a flight suit day in and day out. I need to feel like a girl.” The words weigh down on your tongue as you try to come off as light and airy. Bob was supposed to be here any minute, why isn’t this man at his girlfriend’s house?

He nods as if thinking it over and he just about leaves before tapping the frame of your door.

“Oh, did I mention Ice is thinking of having a retirement party?” You turn to stare at him without the barrier of your mirror.

“Really? Or do you mean Sarah wants to throw him one?” He smirks and shakes his head.

“Either way, he’s in remission now and I think it’s as good as any reason to celebrate.” You nod and take a deep breath. You both know having to retire because of cancer wasn’t ideal for Admiral Kazansky. For a while there you weren’t sure if he would recover. You’re just glad he’s finally getting the opportunity to celebrate his career in the Navy, even if it didn’t end the way he wanted it to. He still went out in a blaze of glory, putting your dad exactly where he needed him. Where Rooster and yourself needed him. You remind yourself to text him later.

Your dad walks back down the stairs and you glance at the clock. Bob should be here any second.

“I thought you were going to Penny’s?” You yell down to him as he goes to the kitchen.

“I was, but Jimmy’s sick so she’s covering for him.” You can hear the clink of a glass bottle as he opens the fridge and you roll your eyes.

“So instead of going to see your girlfriend where she works at a bar, you’re choosing to drink alone for the night?” There’s a moment of silence and you know he’s rethinking his choices. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see you during a long shift.” He places his drink back in the fridge, and before you’re done doing up your shoes, a knock comes from the door. Shit. “I’ll get it!”, you yell down the stairs.

“Bob, hey”, you hear your dad greet him as you awkwardly shuffle down the steps with only one shoe on, the other barely hanging on.

Your dad’s back is turned toward you as Bob stands at the door. “I’m sorry”, you mouth in an attempt to wipe the panicked look off of his face. The wide look in his eyes softens as your dad moves out of the way, opening up his view of you. He blinks a couple times to gather himself and you’re able to admire what he’s wearing. It’s not dissimilar to what he wore to brunch, a button up shirt rolled up at the sleeves, tucked into some nice slacks. He awkwardly waves at you, and you’re stuck staring into his blue eyes.

“So Mantis tells me you’re going on a date?” The panicked look reappears on his face, and you cringe as he stumbles through his words.

“Uhh- yes sir. I- I am.”

“Good for you”, he claps him on the shoulder and if you’re not mistaken Bob flinches at the contact. “How’d you meet her, one of those apps?” A sense of calm washes over Bob as he takes a look at you. 

“No actually. I met her at the Hard Deck, sir.” Your heart warms as you walk closer to where the two men are standing. “She just caught my attention, and I haven’t been able to look away since.” Before your dad can sense the shift in energy, you clear your throat and take Bob by the arm.

“Right then”, you interrupt, “We should get going so you’re not late.” Bob’s feet follow the rest of his body as you drag him out to his truck and just when you think you’re out of reach your dad yells out the front door.

“Have fun Bob, be safe!”, he chuckles as you turn to him with wide eyes. Leave it to your father to embarrass you in front of someone he doesn’t even know you’re going on a date with. Parents must have the uncanny ability to know exactly when you’ll feel embarrassment the most, even if they don’t have any clue what they’ve done.

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

“Sorry about him”, you break the silence, “he was supposed to be with Penny.”

“Not a problem”, he glances over at you. “You look beautiful by the way.” You can feel your cheeks heat up as you smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“Thank you. You look really nice, too.” You reach over and take his hand, he squeezes a couple times as you let the radio take over the comfortable silence.

Of course Bob opens your door for you, and as soon as you're out of the truck he leads you up the walkway beating you to the front door. You’re not sure what to expect as he faces you.

“Now I know we can’t go out and have a normal date, but I’m hoping this might make up for it.” Reaching for the handle, he opens the door and follows you in.

“Bob”, you gasp. He walks behind you as you try to find every detail in what was once his kitchen. What stands before you now is a homey, dimly lit dinner. There’s a tablecloth over the old table you ate french toast at a couple weeks ago, plates are set with the appropriate silverware and napkins are folded underneath them. The sun peaking through the windows is the only thing lighting up the kitchen where an aroma of tomato, garlic, and herbs emanate your senses.

“It’s too much isn’t it?”, you turn as he rubs the back of his neck. Shaking your head you can’t hide your smile, and you can see the tension leave his shoulders.

“No, it’s- it’s perfect. When did you have time to do all this?” His hand finds the small of your back as he pulls your chair out for you.

“Well, I had this planned ever since I asked you out. I just kept putting off asking you again for some reason.”

“I already said yes, did you think I’d say no?” He bobs his head back and forth as he enters the kitchen, making you turn in your seat to watch him. He doesn’t answer as he grabs the food warming in the oven. “Bob”, you gape.

“I know you wouldn’t, but deep down there was some part of me that thought it was too good to be true.” He plates up your food and sets it down in front of you as you stare at him the entire time. The sun from the early beginnings of dusk settle over him and cast him in a soft glow. He belongs in this light you think. Brings to life the warm fuzzy feeling you get whenever you look at him.

“If it makes you feel better, sometimes I think you’re too good to be true.” He scoffs, but even as you reach across he still gives you his hand to squeeze

“Thank you”, he says as his eyes settle on you. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the daze you’ve put him in. “I hope you’re hungry.”

The two of you sit, eating a delicious meal that Bob made from scratch. Which you compliment him on and he accepts with a blush. He explains how Phoenix gave him the recipe, some family heirloom she wasn’t too eager to give over, but she only did it because it was for him. 

You continue to compliment him over and over on his cooking and attention to detail, although you shouldn’t be surprised. He is a man of precision, and you’re sure he’d be able to follow a simple recipe, but still. He did this for you, and it makes it even better.

The two of you sit at the table a bit longer, talking about everything and nothing. You sit until the sun starts to fall further into the sky, painting the kitchen in a golden hue. You stay that way until Bob starts taking your plate to the sink. You move to get up and help start the dishes, but he turns and gives you a pointed stare. You try to play innocent but he sees right through it, stopping you and taking the dishes from your hands.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk.” A distraction more like. “It’s real close. We could walk to the beach, and if by chance we see anyone we know, we tell them my date ended early and I was repaying you with ice cream.” Distraction or not, it works. But you can’t help but feel grateful and sad at the thoughtful notion.

Bob pointedly gives a look to the neighbors house as he takes Sylvia’s leash in one hand, and leaves the door open for you. He walks closest to the road with Sylvia, letting his free hand fall between the two of you. You offer the same as the backs of your hands brush together as you walk.

The two of you make the short walk to the ice cream shop you passed weeks ago, the one you barely remember making some short remark about. Of course he remembered. The sun casts a golden hue over your figure which distracts Bob long enough for you to pay. He tries to grumble, but you silence him with a look.

“You made dinner, I buy dessert”, you tell him. He shakes his head, but the two of you keep walking. You talk about mindless favorites, colors, animals, what you were obsessed with when you were kids. And you find out Bob had an obsession other than planes while growing up.

“You’re kidding me? Bugs?” He nods as you lead him and Sylvia to rest at a bench.

“Nope, I was pretty into the outdoors as a child. Helps that I grew up doing work outside and I’d find all sorts of things in the fields.” You can’t help but laugh at the irony. While you happen to not be a fan of bugs, particularly the praying mantis, Bob has had a soft spot for them this entire time.

“I even had a journal of all the insects I’d find. Wrote everything I could about them, even included a little drawing.”

“Your own encyclopedia”, you smile. He laughs while you attempt to turn back to your ice cream. If you ignore it any longer it will melt all over your dress. You sit for a bit longer admiring the view over the ocean, but you know you need to head back soon. The sun is disappearing beyond the horizon and you wish for just one moment it would stop. Because in this second, right here with Bob, even out in the open for anyone to see, you feel free.

A Beach Boys song starts playing somewhere further along the beach and you both turn your heads at the sound. As the music continues to set the soundtrack to the night, a couple start to stand and sway together on the sand. They stumble a couple times on the uneven terrain but laugh it off and continue to move together. 

Feeling Bob’s eyes on you, you turn to look back at him. He gives you a small smile drawing attention to the small dab of chocolate ice cream at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, you’ve got a little something right here”, you motion at your own face as he tries to wipe it clean with his hand. His attempt only smears it even more and you laugh as he continues to try and get rid of it. Relenting, you reach and wipe the melted chocolate off with your thumb. You slowly swipe over the corner of his lips, and with no napkin to wipe away the mess you’re left to lick it off your finger.

Bob just about chokes on air at your absentminded motion, but he manages to recover quickly. Hiding his shock under a cough as he stands. He stops himself from lingering on your hand after he offers his own to help you up, but you see the small twitch in his fingers as they fall back to his side.

The walk back is slower than the way over. You’re trying to savor this time, but much like ice cream you only have a short window before it’s gone. Hands brushing against each other, time starts to drip away as you get closer to the house. Your gaze is stuck on Bob the whole time, and you soften at the view. You’re surprised the ice cream didn’t melt any quicker in your hand the way you’re warming from the inside out.

He leads you through the front door and you stop in the living room as Sylvia pads off for bed. It’s already been a few hours since you got there and you know the end of the night has come. Bob steps forward and takes your hand in his. His thumb draws mindless shapes over the back of your hand. Reaching forward, you draw his face to look up at yours.

“You ok?”, you ask. He nods in your hand with a soft smile adorning his lips. You’re both thinking the same thing, you know it. There’s a bittersweet feeling that you can’t go out normally, that tonight might be a one off of walking together, getting ice cream. Normal date things.

“If this were any other ordinary date for you, what would you do differently?” You venture to ask. He takes a second to find his answer, still rubbing soft circles on your skin.

“I would have held your hand as we walked”, he brings your hand up as he kisses the back, “Put my arm around your shoulders as we watched the sunset”, he sets your hand over his shoulder, “And you know what I really wanted to do?” You shake your head as he takes your other hand in his, resting his free hand over your waist, eliciting a smattering of butterflies through your stomach. “I really wanted to ask you to dance.”

You shake your head as you relinquish your hold on Bob for a quick second. He furrows his brow as you scroll through your phone. Seconds later the melodic voices of the Beach Boys singing Don’t Worry Baby fill the living room. He laughs through a shy smile as you set your phone down and resume your position, only this time you put yourself a little closer to him.

“No reason we can’t do that right here”, you tell him. The song plays on as you rest your head on his shoulder, he soon follows suit and rests his head over your own. You’re surrounded by his scent and the only thing you can feel is him. The two of you sway slowly to the tune, but half of it is muffled by the sound of Bob’s heart beating.

Well it’s been building up inside of me

For, oh, I don’t know how long

I don’t know why

But I keep thinking

Something’s bound to go wrong

 You know he can feel you smile through his shirt because you feel him do the same above you.

“You know”, he whispers, “even if we could have done this, it wouldn’t have been any other ordinary kind of date.” You lift your head to get a better look at him.

But she looks in my eyes

“Why’s that?”, you whisper back, unintentionally flicking your eyes to his lips and back.

“You’re not any other ordinary kind of person.” His eyes follow your same motion as you don’t even try to suppress your admiration for this man.

And makes me realize

And she says “Don’t worry baby”

“Neither are you, Bobby.” And as fast as you’ve gone before, it’s almost agonizingly slow before the two of you meet in the middle. His lips are soft on yours, but not only that. They’re gentle. Much like the rest of him. The two of you take your time savoring each other. In the back of your mind you know you’re not worried about someone seeing this time. In the safety of Bob’s home and Bob’s arms you’re at peace. You move at your own pace and everything is perfect. Almost.

Don’t worry baby

Everything will turn out alright

Don’t worry baby

A/N: I love Val Kilmer and his death really solidified the fact that Ice was going to live on in this story. I hope it brings a little bit of comfort to other people, not just myself.

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

@itsmytimetoodream

@theamuz

@harrysgothicbitch

@mygyn

@luckyladycreator2

@marve2014

@wretchedmo

@callsignwidow

@finnydraws

@melsunshine

@jostan456

@okiegirl24

@beebeechaos

@eclecticfashionbookszipper

@hunbomb

@nerdgirljen

@knight-of-the-doctor

@smoothdogsgirl

@planetaryempire-blog

@dumblani

@i-heart-marvel

[p0lyn3sian]

Hiii can I request slashers x picky eater teen reader?

Slashers with a Teen reader that's a picky eater!

A/n: Hellooo, ofccc I can do this request!! This is so relatable because I'm kinda a picky eater myself, loll

(Another A/n: Sorry, it's been a long time since I had last posted, and I feel so bad! I've been way too busy with school almost coming to an end, and I still have some grades I have to fix before relaxing for the summer 😔. My birthday is also coming up, and I'm excited about it! But anyways enough about that, I just want to say that I did not include Brahms, Stu, Billy Loomis, & Billy Lenz in this post.. I had a hard time writing a headcannon for those 4 lowk, and I'm sorry about that! So please enjoy reading this sloppy work that I have been fixing about a few months and not knowing how to write. :/)

Slashers: Jason, Norman, Carrie, RZ Michael, Patrick, Hannibal & Will, Thomas & Bubba, The Lost Boys, & Chucky & Tiffany

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆

Jason:

Being a picky eater for Jason to deal with is really tiresome. He'll try adding veggies, meat, or any other foods that you also love onto the food of plate that you haven't touched. After adding whatever he put onto your plate, you decided to eat only the pieces of food that Jason placed, but you didn't eat the food he made/stole!

Why do you do all that for?? It's making Jason a little mad, but also a lot tired putting whatever you liked for your plate. Luckily Pamela was watching the whole interaction between you two! She once was a chef and she dealt with picky eaters like you! There were some ways that Pamela would deal with picky eaters, an example she would always get picky eaters to eat is by adding spices that'll suit for the food!

Pamela told Jason to add some spices for the food to make it sweet and/or sour. Jason did as he was told, opening the cupboard he added some spices that Pamela recommended for the food. Jason then stirred the made food and grabbed a plate/bowl for the food, and poured or scooped onto your plate/bowl. You looked at the food and grabbed your utensil and put some food into your mouth.

Surprisingly it was really good! You hungrily ate your food and you've never loved that food more than your other favorite foods! You thanked Jason for the wonderful meal he made and you went outside to watch as the sun sets. Jason was also surprised that the spices his mother recommended actually worked! Well, at least it all worked at the end for Jason! (Now he's going to sleep after a very tiresome day..)

Norman:

Since you can't cook just yet, Norman does all the cooking, and he made the same food from the other week, so you didn't want to eat it again. For some food that Norman makes during the week, you will casually eat it without being picky, but there were some days when you couldn't eat the same food every other week before! You looked at the food, and you poked at your food instead of eating eat.

Norman was concerned why you weren't eating your food. You don't want to eat the food because you already ate it many times? That seems stupid to him. Norman has been eating that made food from his mother when he was young and he doesn't complain at all (maybe sometimes.) So, Norman seeing that you don't want to eat it, he went back into the kitchen and grabbed some sauces and spices that Norman loves to put onto the food when he used to eat the same thing over and over.

He went back into the dining room and grabbed your plate, and he headed back into the kitchen again. You were curious why Norman grabbed your plate from you, so you wanted to follow him into the kitchen as well. As you walked into the kitchen, the smell hit you like a truck. It smelled really good, and it kinda made your mouth water at the delicious smell. Norman scooped the food into your bowl/plate and gave the delicious food into your hands.

You immediately went back into the dining room again, and you sat down. It was nice and steamy, and the smell was just too good for you to resist devouring it. You then grabbed your utensil and scooped some into your mouth. After one bite, it turns to two bites and then into more bites. Norman was surprised that it worked! After you hungrily ate your food, you told Norman that if he could make more for another day. Norman was happy that you found the food he made was really delicious, so of course he'll make it again!

Carrie:

Carrie was also a picky eater, too! Carrie didn't like some of her mother's food she made during the week, so Carrie would put some small spices or other ingredients into her bowl/plate. Luckily, her mother doesn't notice the small things Carrie would do while she turns her back from her. Now that Carrie is a mother and a better one than her own mother, Carrie would try adding some vegetables, meats, and other ingredients to your liking.

Carrie would also add some spices that you love onto the food you haven't touched. Once she added those stuff into your untouched plate, it seemed you still didn't want to it eat.. Why won't you eat the food Carrie made for you? It has all the stuff that you need in your body and that it could also help you get through this day with those carbs, nutrients and that other stuff you need.

Luckily, our girl Carrie knows that you love scrolling through Pinterest to look at interesting pictures of the sky, animals, clothing, and not to mention food! So Carrie used that opportunity to make one of those food that you have shown her on you phone! And it turned out absolutely amazing! You couldn't believe what you were seeing right in front of you, a delicious plate of food! You thanked Carrie for making your food and you started to eat it! After that, Carrie would try and make those food that looks like in Pinterest or other apps that you love scrolling through! She may be tured and all but she'll always want to see you smile and beam from how delicious her cooking was!

RZ Michael:

This dude can't cook. Since Michael has been living in that crappy asylum almost his entire life, he doesn't know how to provide for you.. He knows that you need the basic stuff for yourself, but cooking? That's not something he would do in his life until he dies. How Michael provides for you is stealing. Yes, he has stole neccassities that you need from neighbors, your own friends, and the store!

Michael has been watching you the entire time, and you haven't eaten a single food off of your plate. It's pissing off Michael so much because clearly you can't see that he walked around the whole neighborhood to see if there was food for you to eat. As for you, you can feel the stare from how irritated Michael is. You told Michael that this food didn't look good at all.

Michael thinks that's the most stupidest thing he has ever heard. Food is food in Michael's perspective, but for you, food is food, but it depends if it's really delicious looking. Michael grabbed the food from where you were, and he pulled his mask up to his nose and grabbed a spoonful of the food. He then started eating your food right in front of you.

You knew that Michael, sure as hell, wouldn't go to another house to get more food for you. You stopped him from taking another bite of your food, and you took the plate of food from his hands, and you ate it as well. You took more bites and realized how good it was! Michael actually liked the food he stole, but he was kinda pissed that he couldn't even take another bite before you stole it away from his hands.

Patrick:

Patrick doesn't like picky eaters. He doesn't care if you whine to get fast food from your favorite place. Patrick cooked food here at home, and you want to go out eating?? That just makes him so mad because he made food at home just so he can't spend so much money on fast food places. Patrick is rich and all, but he doesn't want to waste his damn money on things that aren't neccassities for you and him!

So, what's the point of cooking if you're being a picky eater? Patrick ignored what food you wanted from your favorite fast food places or diners. He just kept on cooking the food, and once he was done, he told you if you still wanted to eat. You answered with a "no," which you shouldn't have done.

Patrick would definitely make food, but if you don't eat the food he made, he'll just let you starve until you'll tell him that you're hungry for his own cooking.. Which may seem unfair for you, but for him, it's a normal thing for him to do. You definitely remembered when you said "no" to Patrick's own cooking that you didn't want to eat, which resulted for you to give up on trying to eat fast food/diner places, and just eat his own cooking.

And you did not want that to happen again because it wasn't worth it all. Patrick was minding his own business and just eating his food, and he saw you stood up from your spot and walked over to the pot. He was surprised that you scooped the food into your plate/bowl. You then walked over to your spot and sat down and ate your food. Patrick had this stupid smile that always pisses you off, and you knew that he's really happy that it worked out for him. But that doesn't matter to you, because all you care about is the food right in front of you.

Hannibal & Will:

Hannibal deals with two picky eaters, and that is you and Will. It's really overwhelming and tiresome for Hannibal to cook a nice lovely dinner, and see you two come home with food from your favorite places and just eat it right in front of his face. Hannibal side eyes you both, and you and Will both knew that it was trouble for you two. If Hannibal sees you two with food from places instead of the "food" here at home, you know that he is going to have a very, very long talk with you and Will.

That long talk will be about the "food" that is provided for you and Will to eat. Hannibal would also mention the money you two spend on wasting on fast food/diner places. Will knew that Hannibal has a point, but let's be honest, Will would eat whatever his husband makes some days, but on other days, he'll eat food from places. You also would do the same thing as Will, so it wasn't surprising at all for Hannibal.

Hannibal is sometimes sad and disappointed that you two would rather go eat other places instead of his own cooking at home. You and Will will always feel bad for watching Hannibal provide and cook for you both. You two will eat the food Hannibal made and thank him for all the things he has done for you both! Will would shower Hannibal with a lot of praises for providing the whole family and for feeding you both, too! (Hannibal needs a lot of love for providing his lovely family!)

Thomas & Bubba:

Growing up in a cannibalism family and being the only picky eater is real difficult. The reason why I put the word difficult is because they're not like Hannibal and Will. They live in a deserted land with just a road going far from both ways. And their only meat is human meat. There's also food over where Mama Luda works, but it's probably not good, so you wouldn't eat it. Whenever it's eating time here at the cannibal home, you will always get scolded by Hoyt for not eating the food that was provided for you.

You would always ignore whatever is coming out of that smelly mouth of his and mind your own business picking at your food. Thomas and Bubba felt bad because you needed actual meat instead of human meat for your stomach. Which sometimes resulted in you throwing up almost every time.. Mama Luda also felt bad, as well as some others in your family. Luckily, there was this couple that was going to a food competition show which they were competing to get whatever prize they were getting. Once Thomas and Bubba did the work of getting rid of the couple, Bubba noticed some spices in the back seat of the car, which might be good for you to eat! Bubba showed Thomas some spices that you'll probably like to eat with the "food."

Thomas was glad that there was something good for once from these people passing by. Thomas and Bubba arrived home with the dead couple for meat and a bag full of goodies! Bubba showed what he found to you, and you were beaming with a smile! In the bag there were some chips, drinks, and candies as well as spices that you'll probably like! There was enough for yourself, but you also were willing to give some to Thomas and Bubba for their hard work. Thomas didn't accept your kind gesture, but Bubba happily accepted some of the snacks you gave him! During dinner time, you put some spices that seemed good to you onto the food. Once you took a bite of your food it was really delicious! You also thanked Thomas and Bubba for finding these goodies and spices for you!

The Lost Boys:

It may or may not be difficult depending on how the boys take care of you and your picky attitude. Some of these boys, for example, Dwayne and Paul, would definitely try making another meal for you to eat because they just feel bad that you won't eat until you get your favorite food, you know? Marko is in between, of making/buying your favorite food or not agreeing to what you want and just tells you to eat instead of throwing a fit. David is the one that's strict about you being a picky eater, he cares about your well being, but he is not getting anymore of your favorite food places until you learn to eat whatever they made for you. (Even from straight up maggots- jkjk, or not-)

David scold all three of the other boys that you can't keep eating foods from places cause it's just not good for you! So after that talk and scolds from David about you, they decided that he was right and it was for your own good. For you it was absolutely horrible! Why can't you get your favorite dishes anymore, and just savor them like you always do! Instead your presented with a dish that Dwayne made, it just looked so gross to you! But it was Dwayne's dish he made instead of Marko or Paul's, because you knew damn well they'll put maggots in your food and maybe David as well, depending on his mood.

You decided to stop being a baby and picked at your food while all 4 of the vampires eyes are looking at you. As you picked at your food with your utensil and brought it close to your mouth, but you decided to pull the utensil away from your mouth which it caused David to be mad and stress that you just can't do it. David's intrusive thoughts were gonna get the best of him if you don't hurry and eat your food. One of those thoughts that David has is that he might as well force feed you, which you both know that's not you want. After a little time has passed by, you ate the food and surprise, surprise, it tasted great!

You then ate your food a little hurriedly but not too much because Dwayne noticed that if you kept eating faster and faster, you might get hiccups mixed with almost choking yourself.. So it's a good thing that Dwayne noticed it and told you to slow down before you end up choking yourself. Which was embarrassing on your behalf, but that didn't stop you from eating the delicious meal that Dwayne made! In the end, it was best that Dwayne made the food for you, which he didn't mind because maybe he wanted to be a sous chef, but maybe not, who knows? (David's intrusive thoughts were almost that close to just kill you right on that spot. Luckily, Dwayne saved your ass from almost getting killed. 💀)

Chucky & Tiffany:

Tiffany is a great mother at handling things with her own kids. Chucky isn't really a great father, but he tries because of his beautiful wife Tiffany! There are times that your appetite doesn't really let you eat whatever Tiffany or Chucky makes, and you kinda hate about that. Their food is really good and delicious, but you can be a bit picky about how the food looks like. There are some stuff that you don't like when they put it into the food, like veggies, meat, or other ingredients.

It depends on who is making the food, to be honest. Chucky can be mad about you being picky with the food he made, and he would also just ignore what you want on your own plate if you don't want his made food. Tiffany knows what you like and dislike. She makes another separate pan to make the food you all are eating, but without the stuff that you dislike. But it can be tiring for her to make another set of food for you to eat. Tiffany would try and make you eat the food that you dislike as well as Chucky!

You always felt bad if either Chucky or Tiffany, or both, make food for the family, but they also will make another food that you like for your own liking. So you will try and eat whatever food they would make! Some foods were really delicious, but some foods that you ate are where your taste buds are going to have to deal. Tiffany would always be proud of you eating new things and making them your favorite list of foods! Chucky is kinda proud that you would actually do that for both of them. Either way, they are so proud of you for trying to eat new foods that they both cook for you!

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆

[send-noodles-not-nudes]

So a lot of my feed has been about thunderbolts lately (haven't seen it yet but I'm planning to watch it eventually) and consequently, there's been a lot of talk and fics and memes about Yelena

I love her, so I'm happy that I've seen so much media around her, but there's one thing that makes me sad:

Yelena is aroace, and a lot of people don't portray her as such.

My initial reaction isn't anger. A lot of people don't know; I've seen through my own life that most people don't know what the fuck an asexual is, let alone what aromantic means, nor that you can be one but not the other. I've had to educate a lot of people, and that's just part of being aspec. So please, when you see people who mischaracterize a character as allo when they're not, don't have a knee-jerk reaction of anger just because of something that's more likely than not simple ignorance that wasn't intended to harm. Only get mad if they're being intentionally ignorant and rude.

That being said, for those writing fics/making memes/posting hcs or whatever else you do, please remember that Yelena is aroace according to the writers. It may not be super explicitly confirmed—Devin Grayson only said that she was "likely" to identify as ace, and the aro bit comes from a comic where she says that "no, I'm not a lesbian. I'm not anything"—but it's plenty enough to call her canonically aroace, and she's heavily aroace coded in comics and the mcu.

Plus, you can still write plenty of fics with an aroace character! Make a platonic x reader where they're QPPs! You still have plenty of options! I'm absolutely not trying to take that away from you and I encourage people to keep at it!

But in the same way you (hopefully; I know there are still people who do) wouldn't write a fic of a canon gay character in a straight relationship, please don't write Yelena as allo. If you've ever craved representation for yourself, you should understand why it hurts to have representation taken away from the aspec community. We have so little representation. All I ask is that you respect what representation we do have.

[violet-tinted-world]

Writing a lil Wrecker x OC AU just for fun and I'm just 😭

Who hurt my baby and made him so self-conscious? I'll fight 'em.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Birthday to Fallen London; My favourite British people beefing it with bats simulator.

[dootznbootz]

Thinking about how Telemachus has heard "You are just like your father" by so many people for most of his life. How different yet refreshing it is to hear said father tell him warmly "You're so much like your mother".

[writing-is-hard-af]

I'm actually quite mad they showed us everyone finding out except for Eddie. Like. Please, Bobby is just as important to him as the rest of them. Bobby has been there for him and understood him in things that nobody else has. He was there with Shannon. He was there throughout season 5. He was there with the Chris in Texas stuff. Bobby is just as important to Eddie as any of them, maybe even more than some of them. And we didn't even get a glimpse of him finding out.

[cosmos-fudge]

hi why does no one talk about this I've never seen anyone mention it and it's eating my brain so bad

[plainxte]

One last post about Neil Gaiman.

The thing that shook me perhaps the most about that article detailing all the abuse was how much sense it made. I mean that reading it felt like seeing a puzzle picture - things suddenly slotted into place.

The gaps in the narrative - suddenly they were filled. I'm not talking about the stories as such, but the online life: what happened in Aotearoa New Zealand, during the pandemic. The sparse publicity around The Ocean at the End of the Lane, the book about childhood memories, the sense that there were things about it that weren't told.

That's why it feels to some extent like I should have known, should have guessed - because all those other bits of the puzzle picture were there. I should have known that the wild haring from Auckland to Skye in the middle of a lockdown concealed something horrible. It was all there - all it needed was that one piece of additional information...

Of course it doesn't work like that. But the feeling is hard to shake.

And I'm so angry. Still seething. At the abusers who hurt others, at the silence that protects them.

I hope the victims get justice and that he and his accomplices never work again.