#MICAH YOURE A GENIUS

[yumepeachy]

I AM CRYING I FINALLY GOT INTO C01 51 EP AND I AM CRYING LIKE A BABY

EU NÃO CONSIGO ME EXPRESSAR INGLÊS EU PRECISO XINGAR EM PORTUGUÊS, ME DESCULPEM

CACETE CARALHO MDSSSS EU TO CHORANDO EU NÃO VOU AGUENTAR AAAAAAAAAAAAA DESGRAÇAAAAAAA

IT'S FELIX WEDDING RING???? IT'S HIS WEDDING RING???? IT'S THE REPRESENTATION OF THE LOVE THAT CREATED LUCE THE ONLY THING THAT CAN STOP HER??? IT'S HER POISON

EU ESTOU DESTRUÍDO DESTROÇADO TRISTE CHORANDO PELOS CANTOS LARGADO EM TRISTEZA PROFUNDA CINCO PORRA EU NÃO QUERO QUE ME VEJAM ASSIM

[smearp]

Biblical references in RDR2 analysis

Red Dead's quests contain references to many pieces of literature, one of them being the bible - one of the first quests we see with a unique name is in chapter 1 - "The aftermath of Genesis".

Genesis, being the first book in the old Christian testament, tells the story of a perfect world being created and how humanity destroys it by discovering sin. Immediately after, in Exodus, we are introduced to the story of the Israelites' slavery in Egypt and how they were delivered to safety by the hands of a higher power.

In RDR2, we see some similarities to these stories in the way Dutch and his gang view the world; the west being the perfect world, destroyed by growing civilisation that consumes their freedom.

Throughout the entire game, the gang does their best not to give in to this new world, and they constantly look up to Dutch as their saviour, an idea he reinforces by constantly asking them to have faith in him and claiming to have some sort of a genius plan that none of the gang members could understand.

The next biblical reference is the quest "who is not without sin", which is a twist on the biblical sentence "he who is without sin", a sentence that was said as a warning - unless you haven't sinned in your life, do not condemn others for their own sins.

This warning has a similarity to Arthur's point of view on the world - he deems himself as a bad man, which leads to him rarely judging other people for their actions.

It also has a similarity to the way the gang as a whole behaves - they kill and condemn others for actions they deem to be immoral when in realiry they themselves are committing similar crimes.

Another interesting one is "the sheep and the goats", while the quest revolves around herding sheep, the actual phrase is about helping the needy; those who have compassion and will help the needy will find salvation and those who won't will be dammed.

In my opinion, this can be referenced back to RDR in two ways; the first being Arthur's change versus the rest of the gang, as the title does mention one sheep and multiple goats, Arthur is the only one who ends up making a real change in his world views and behaviour, and ends up actually helping those in need as well.

It could also be viewed as the way the gang views themselves, backed up by Dutch's famous quote, "we save fellers as need saving, feed 'em as need feeding and kill 'em as need killing"; they view themselves as the sheeps in a world of goats, the only ones to truly act in a righteous way.

Another quote we see that relates to the gang's view of themselves is "blessed are the peacemakers", which repeats itself a couple of times both in rdr1 and rdr2.

It references the peacemakers being set apart from the rest of the world, since they're the children of god; the way they act and their way of resolving conflicts is above all, and they should actively teach their way to others.

This quote not only correlates directly to my previous explanation of the way the gang views itself, but also on how Micah views himself, as he quotes this sentence to Arthur at the beginning of the quest; he sees his ways as superior to the other members of the gang, and he constantly tries to sway both the gang members and Dutch from their own path to his own agenda, a mission he eventually succeeds in and brings the gang to an early demise.

The last one is "blessed are the meek". The beginning of this quote is again a guideline on the behaviour of people; guiding people to not assert themselves over others in order to further their own agenda.

Dutch immediately comes to mind doing the exact opposite of what this quote suggests, the entire gang being built on him collecting people who would not survive on their own and giving them shelter and purpose as long as they adhere to his values.

However, Arthur also comes to mind, being the exact opposite of Dutch by the end of the game, which is backed up by the craving on his grave if he dies with high honor; "blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness" Arthur did not have a desire to control other people or to impose his way of living on others, and while he didn't believe it, high honor arthur did act in a righteous and good way, his good morals being what eventually caused the tear between him and Dutch.

This is all of course, just my take on these mission names, most of them don't directly correlate with what happens in the actual missions.

Also, I'm not well versed in the bible, these are my conclusions after researching these quotes, so please feel free to add to this post and correct me if i misinterpreted any of these!

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Masterlist 🦇

These are my red dead fanfiction compiled into one list! Keep in mind some of these are 18+ and contain content some may not want to read. See warnings accordingly.

Will be updated overtime

My College AU

Majors/Student Life

Arthur Morgan

Say Yes To Heaven (18+)

Say Yes To Heaven Part 2 (18+)

Playing Dangerous (18+)

My Love Is Not Mine All Mine (Angst)

My Love Is Not Mine All Mine Part 2 (Angst)

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything (Fluff, Angst)

Somethin' Stupid (Fluff)

The Passion Of Lovers (Fluff, Suggestive)

Cola (18+)

I Love My Boyfriend (18+)

Shy!Reader HC (Fluff/18+)

Toxic Traits HC

Not Allowed (18+)

Favorite Body Part (18+)

Genius Of Love (Fluff)

More Shy!Reader HC (Fluff/18+)

Falling In Love HC (Fluff)

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

HC For Being Told S/O Was Killed By O'Driscoll (Angst/Comfort)

NSFW HC (18+)

Love/Hate (Angst/Gore/Comfort)

John Marston

Ameliorate (18+)

I Love My Boyfriend (18+)

Shy!Reader HC (Fluff/18+)

Toxic Traits HC

Favorite Body Part (18+)

More Shy!Reader HC (Fluff/18+)

Nobody (Fluff)

MX (18+)

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

Taking What's Not Yours (18+/Dead Dove Do Not Eat)

Charles Smith

Flint and Cedar (Fluff)

Closer (18+)

Lovers Rock (Fluff)

Shy!Reader HC (Fluff/18+)

To The End (Fluff)

Toxic Traits HC

Million Dollar Man (Fluff/Angst)

Intimacy HC (Fluff)

Favorite Body Part (18+)

Genius Of Love (Fluff)

HC For Reader In Past Abusive Relationship (Fluff/Comfort)

More Shy!Reader HC (Fluff/18+)

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

General/Relationship HC (Fluff)

HC For Artist S/O (Fluff)

Kieran Duffy

Saint Denis (Fluff)

Heaven Is A Bedroom (18+)

Bounce (18+)

Toxic Traits HC

Favorite Body Part (18+)

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

Hc For Being Told Their S/O Was KIlled By An O'Driscoll (Angst/Comfort)

Kinks HC (18+)

Javier Escuella

Tu Mi Adoración (Fluff)

Toxic Traits HC

Let's Go To Bed (18+)

Intimacy HC (Fluff)

Favorite Body Part (18+)

General HC

HC For Reader In Past Abusive Relationship (Fluff/Comfort)

General HC

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

Deathwish (Angst/Gore)

Kinks HC (18+)

Eagle Flies

Why Do I Cry (18+)

Every Man Gets His Wish (18+)

Toxic Traits HC

More toxic traits HC

Shy!Reader HC (Fluff)

Favorite Body Part (18+)

Kinks HC (18+)

MORE Kinks HC (18+)

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

Music HC

Short S/O Hc (Fluff)

Dutch Van Der Linde

Toxic Traits HC

Favorite Body Part (18+)

Pregnancy HC

HC For Being Told Their S/O Was Killed By An O'Driscoll (Angst/Comfort)

Hosea Matthews

HC For Being Told Their S/O Was Killed By An O'Driscoll (Angst/Comfort)

Kinks HC (18+)

Sean Macguire

Toxic Traits HC

Favorite Body Part (18+)

General HC (Fluff)

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

Kinks HC (18+)

Micah Bell

Toxic Traits HC

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

HC For Being Told Their S/O Was Killed By An O'Driscoll (Angst/Comfort)

Kinks HC (18+)

Lenny Summers

Pregnancy HC (Fluff)

Kinks HC (18+)

Mary Beth Gaskill

Relationship/Sex HC (18+)

Tilly Jackson

Realtionship/Sex HC (18+)

Karen Jones

Relationship/Sex HC (18+)

Molly O'Shea

Relationship/Sex HC (18+)

Susan Grimshaw

Relationship/Sex HC (18+)

Abigail Roberts

Relationship/Sex HC (18+)

[dumplinsiims]

Storyline Townies 🤍

Meet Brooklyn:

Brooklyn McCain grew up in Windenburg, helping her parents run a cozy café where she fell in love with cooking and music. Though once dreaming of life as a musician, her passion shifted to the artistry of food. Now an aspiring master chef, Brooklyn is known for hosting unforgettable dinner parties, blending creative flair with perfectionist precision. When she’s not experimenting in her kitchen, she enjoys live music, wine tastings, and relaxing by Windenburg’s canals, always seeking inspiration for her next culinary masterpiece.

Meet Seiko:

Seiko Jiang has always been more comfortable solving problems than navigating social situations. Growing up in Mt. Komorebi, she found solace in the quiet beauty of the mountains and the thrill of outdoor adventures like hiking and snowboarding. Her genius mind and active nature made her a natural at planning efficient routes, perfecting snowboarding tricks, and mastering anything she set her sights on. Though socially awkward and unflirty, Seiko channels her energy into her true passion: transforming properties into luxurious alpine retreats. With meticulous attention to detail and a love for design, she’s determined to build a five-star rental empire that showcases the charm and tranquility of Mt. Komorebi. Every property she renovates reflects her unique vision, combining efficiency, comfort, and the natural beauty of her mountain home.

Meet Micah:

Micah Barnett is a walking contradiction navigating life in the bustling city of San Myshuno. A self-proclaimed intellectual, he devours books on philosophy, science, and art, always hungry for knowledge. However, his quirky, cringe-worthy sense of humor and awkward social tendencies often make his interactions... memorable, to say the least. Micah’s materialistic streak drives him to dream big, from a high-end apartment filled with rare collectibles to owning the latest tech gadgets. But his avoidant attachment style keeps him guarded, avoiding deep connections and channeling his energy into mastering multiple skills. Whether he's experimenting with painting, dabbling in programming, or honing his chess strategies, Micah is always chasing new challenges. Though his journey to greatness is anything but smooth, Micah's eccentric charm and relentless curiosity make him stand out in the ever-changing landscape of San Myshuno.

Meet Craig: 

Craig Bonds is the life of the party in Oasis Springs, a desert town that matches his sunny personality. A natural entertainer, Craig discovered his comedic talent during high school, where he turned awkward moments into laugh-out-loud punchlines. His laid-back "bro" vibe and self-assured charisma make him the kind of guy everyone wants to grab a drink with—or better yet, see perform live. When he’s not cracking jokes on stage or brainstorming clever material, Craig’s creativity shines in unexpected ways, like designing his own comedy posters or hosting themed game nights with friends. His secure attachment style helps him navigate relationships effortlessly, bringing humor and balance to his close-knit group of buddies. With a dream of becoming a legendary stand-up comedian, Craig spends his nights lighting up local open-mic stages, turning everyday life into a comedy goldmine. For Craig, every punchline is a step closer to stardom.

Please don’t claim as your own or reupload.

download them here.

[catras-breakup-song]

seeing your defending catradora/catradora antis dni post, do you have any arguments against the whole "they're sisters" thing?

i do, yes!

growing up together does not make your friendship a sibling bond/dynamic unless you choose for it to. i saw someone claim that it inherently does unrelated to catradora specifically, but like, surely that has to be a troll because there's no way. 💀 i guess that means lonnie, kyle, and rogelio are also catra & adora's siblings, like a family of 5? what about the other unnamed human-looking characters (i think one had short green hair and another with a dark purple mullet)?

shadow weaver was never their mother (figure). she was their caretaker, basically just the supervising adult in that segment of the fright zone. but like, even if she was, it doesn't take a genius to infer that she was disowned once they both got out of there.

if catra & adora are sisters, then glimmer & adora are too, and also bow is their brother, which crosses glimbow off the list as well. you can't ship anyone without it being incestuous, unfortunately (sarcastic). considering queen angella is a direct parallel to shadow weaver, and angella's last nurturing words to adora before kissing her forehead was that the best friend squad needed to take care of each other, and shadow weaver's last act was ensuring catra could take care of adora the rest of the way to the heart... well, i guess love can only be familial.

in S4 shadow weaver took glimmer under her wing and taught her the same lessons in sorcery that micah (her father) would have if he was around in her life, literally after he learned from her first, so by this logic, glimmer & adora share two adoptive mothers; especially when you take into account their "argument" (canonically it was fake for a setup, but there were some underlying issues & insecurities there) about being the "favorite" with regards to the "golden child" method shadow weaver uses against scapegoats.

i would suggest reading this great post by @witch-apologist, which is where some of the points above come from, and you could probably also search sisters/siblings on their blog since they've challenged antis about this topic before!

[thomaskong]

i'd be interested in your recent movie list - it's nice to hear what people are watching 🥰

OOOHHH thank you for asking!!! This gives me the perfect excuse 2 talk abt some of my favs ty hehe <3 The genres, years, countries, etc. might be wildly different and there’s no particular order to what I’m gonna list but here we go:

1. The Spook Who Sat by the Door

Ivan Dixon; action/political drama; America; 1973

EVERYONE needs to watch this honestly… it’s probably my favorite film I’ve seen this year. The movie’s about the first Black man, Dan Freeman, to be trained by the CIA, who then quits and takes the techniques he’s learned to create a team of Black youths to fight for freedom and against racism. Even though it’s a fictional plot, the real FBI pulled it from theaters for being too radical, and it has indeed been described as “the only true Black radical movie ever made.” I seriously can’t recommend it enough

2. Medicine for Melancholy

Barry Jenkins; romance/drama; America; 2008

If you’re familiar with Moonlight, you already know this filmmaker. Medicine for Melancholy is Barry Jenkins’ first film, about the romance between Jo and Micah after a one night stand that takes place in San Francisco. Some things I like about it are the ways the city and its racial issues so heavily influence the characters’ relationship so much so that it essentially becomes a character in itself. Since this is Jenkins’ first film, the budget was smaller ($15k) and it has a different feel from his newer movies which I personally really liked

3. They Cloned Tyrone

Juel Taylor; sci-fi/mystery; America; 2023

This movie was released on barbenheimer day and was WAY BETTER THAN BOTH OF THEM!!!! When Fontaine, a drug dealer played by John Boyega, seemingly gets shot and killed, Slick, a pimp, is shocked to see him walking around the next day as if nothing happened. Together, Slick, Fontaine, and Yo-Yo, a sex worker, work to uncover what actually happened and find that it’s much bigger than they could’ve imagined. This is a FANTASTIC sci-fi film with some fantastic writing (a lot of great one-liners lmao) and all the actors do amazingly. Also, the title goes hard!

4. Bad Genius

Baz Nattuwat; thriller; Thailand; 2017

I literally watched this last night (happy birthday Nonkul!) lol. In this movie the character Lynn gets paid to work with her friends to help other high school students cheat on tests. When I tell you this had me SWEATING from stress. It was very entertaining, I really liked the way it was shot and how it consistently kept the tension up

5. Do the Right Thing

Spike Lee; drama/comedy; America; 1989

Taking place on an unbearably hot summer day, racial tensions rise between the Black civilians and the Italian owners of a pizzeria in Brooklyn. This is a v famous movie, directed by Spike Lee, and honestly many of the themes still ring true today

6. Sorry to Bother You

Boots Riley; sci-fi/comedy; America; 2018

Set in the Oakland, Cassius Green becomes a telemarketer and uses a “white voice” to do better at his job. But when his coworkers form a union, he decides to take a promotion instead, leading to unexpected consequences. I don’t want to spoil anything, and this is another famous movie that many people have probably already seen and have probably been spoiled BUT. there is a crazy twist. I really enjoyed the messages and craziness this movie had to offer

7. Marry My Dead Body

Cheng Wei Hao; comedy/mystery; Taiwan; 2022

I saw this with my friend on my birthday and honestly it could not have been a better way to watch it. A homophobic cop accidentally gets into an arranged marriage with a dead gay ghost. Is that not one of the best plot descriptions u have ever heard. It’s horror, it’s comedy, it’s gay, it’s a romance (TO ME! And like everyone else who watched it)… WHAT MORE COULD U WANT!! It gave me a similar feeling as Secrets in the Hot Spring & Pee Mak, two movies that somehow seem to cover So Many Genres & that I love sooo much (the former is my fav movie ever). I literally laughed so hard I almost peed myself at times <3

Other than that some other movies I watched & enjoyed this year are: Love Lies Bleeding (2024), Claudine (1974), Eve’s Bayou (1997), and Bottoms (2023). I don’t wanna make this too long so I’ll stop it here but I hope you enjoy these films too if you decide to watch any!!

[immajustvibehere]

Spark (8/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 8 summary: Found and taken in by the Natives, Arthur is walking a fine line of living and dying. In the grip of illness and fever, he often imagines seeing you by his side.

This is a long chapter, so I gave it sub-headings. Easier to manage if you can't read it in one go :)

link to my masterlist

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven

7500 words, +30 minutes reading time

I. The Downfall of the Gang

A prevailing notion circulated in the gang that you and Molly shared culpability for the Pinkertons’ decent upon Lagras. They nearly razed the settlement to the ground, and the frustration about the new location of camp being found out so soon certainly didn’t help to improve the general mood. With you gone, there was no way you could justify yourself and nobody was keen on defending you either, though some people were convinced of your innocence either way. Notably, Abigail, though somewhat resenting you for having left, given Jack’s affinity for you and John’s confinement, was sure you wouldn't send the agency to shoot at them. Artur knew that you wouldn't do such a thing, as you had absolutely no reason to. Many people in the gang knew that it was way likelier that the Pinkertons picked up the trail from some of the boys coming back from Guarma, considering the gang was worth almost nothing without its leader anyway.

Dutch readily agreed that it must have been you, his main intention probably being to silence Micah, whose ceaseless prattle on the matter had grown unbearable. Micah spit phrases like: "She probably thought that she could get rid of us so we wouldn't go after her for the betrayal."

This went too far, even for Dutch’s taste, who was aware that they had other battles to fight. It was useless to hunt either you or Molly down and just a waste of resources and guns that were scare to begin with.

Arthur was distraught that you were gone. When he rode out with Charles, to search for a new camping spot up North, Charles handed Arthur the gun that he had borrowed you. The gesture resonated with a finality surpassing all preceding farewells…though there hadn’t even been proper good-byes.

"She uhm...she said anything? 'bout where she's headed?", Arthur asked as he let the gun slip into his saddle bag.

"I'm sorry", Charles shook his head, "She was a great help when we moved camp, but she disappeared soon after. She gave me the gun and told me to hand it back to you if I get the chance. You know, we weren't even sure if you had survived."

And the topic was left at that. The gang moved to Beaver's Hollow and Arthur felt a sickness nagging on his body. He started boiling with rage, every time your name was mentioned in a negative sense. Mostly by Dutch and Micah. Soon after, Bill started to complain about you too. Arthur would be lying if he told someone that he wasn't looking for you. It wasn't an active search, but whenever he was in town, he'd ask a few men at the bar if they had seen a woman of your description. Though the answers were barely trustworthy most of the time.

At the saloon in Annesburg, he spoke to a drunk man, who, as answer to your description mumbled a "fierce little creature" before he fell asleep on the table. This was the best lead Arthur had, and it wasn't nearly enough. He was roaming the country, avoiding collecting the debts, suffering under how sluggish his body was willing to comply to what he wanted it to do.

The first time Arthur was happy you had left, is when the doctor had told him, that he had tuberculosis. Until then, Arthur had mixed feelings. He appreciated that you left the gang to save yourself, because it took no genius to understand that whatever had bound the gang together was a thin thread that threatened to snap any moment. When he saw how Molly ended, however miserable he felt for her, he had been glad it wasn't you that had come back to die in the dirt. And still he had harboured feelings of resentment for you. Leaving without a word, without showing yourself ever again, when on that ride back from Guarma to Shady Bell he had hoped for you to be there, for some hug or any sort of gentle sign that would have soothed his aching soul and body. He realized soon that he was foolish to hope for that. And that Micah was right to accuse him of having become soft, if your gentle hands was all he could think of, despite your hands being mostly anything but gentle.

But as he sat outside camp, wheezing and wiping the blood off his lips that he had coughed up, he was glad you weren't here. Whatever urges he had to be comforted, to see something else but a bitter and angry face, the feelings of having failed and paying for his sins was the stronger force. He deserved it, after all. And he shouldn’t wish for comfort.  

-

He, as many others, tried to avoid camp as often as possible. In those two weeks, when the hostility between him and Dutch was especially high, because he and Sadie had rescued John from prison, he spent most of the days roaming the country and helping strangers. It wasn't that those trips took his mind off you, quite the contrary.

It was when he was out fishing with Hamish, a veteran with an impulsive horse, that he mentioned you for the first time to anyone that wasn't Charles or Mary-Beth (not counting Jack, who regularly asked where you where and why you had gone).

"Ya know. There's this girl...we went fishing a while ago and she couldn't deal with the waiting."

Hamish felt that it was dangerous territory, so he considered Arthur's pondering face for a while before he finally said: "You should take her here sometime. While we wait for the fish to bite, I can tell her stories so interesting, she' gonna hope that nothing bites."

Arthur chuckled sadly and shook his head: "She left, 'm afraid. She was right to do so. Ain't especially lucky to be around me."

As if the universe heard those words, Hamish was pulled into the water only moments after by the gigantic Pike they were after. It gave him and Arthur something to laugh in the aftermath.

-

"I'll draw them away from you! Go!", Arthur yelled, desperate pulling the reigns of his horse as John dismounted his.

"Come with me", John implored, "We can make it out of here!"

But Arthur understood he couldn't. The train heist only hours before and Abigail’s rescue had drained his strength. His body was tired, no, it was surrendering. He knew he couldn’t keep up the pace. His horse was his only support now, if he abandoned it, his legs would betray him. It wasn't just the tiredness of his limbs, he felt nauseous, sick, the sweat was on his forehead, causing his hat to cling uncomfortably.

"No. I pushed all I can”, Arthur’s voice was strained, “I'll buy ya some time, keep them off your back a while longer, you run and join Abigail and Jack."

"You're my brother!"

"I know", and with those words said, the brothers turned their backs to each other, John fleeing up the mountain, Arthur desperate circling the small area with his horse, firing round after round until he had shot himself a path of escape. The horse’s pained bucking under the impact of a bullet seared through Arthur’s heart, yet he urged it on. The loyal animal complied, carrying its master through thicket and woods as bullets whizzed past. Finally, it collapsed, half of its heavy body falling on Arthur who had ungraciously been thrown off.

The head of the horse was weirdly twisted, but Arthur still heard its heavy breaths. That aside, it was silent in the forest. Killing it would be the noble thing to do. But his vision was already blurred when his hands crept to his gun that was long out of bullets. And before he realized that it was silent in the forest and he had managed to shake the Pinkerton’s, Arthur closed his eyes, not being able to fight the exhaustion any longer.  

He was dead. Or dying, at least, because every time he gained consciousness, his whole body felt like it was on fire. With immense effort, he pried his eyes open, only to be greeted by a hazy image, his pounding headache blurring his surroundings. Arthur struggled against his own lethargy, he wanted to gain control of his body again. Neither of his limbs moved, no matter the effort he was putting into it. His eyes wouldn’t focus, his chest no rise enough for a proper breath. Every time however, without failure, weariness washed over him and unconsciousness reclaimed him before he could even form a thought about the state he was in. It was a cruel cycle.

When Arthur woke up for the third, maybe fourth time – there was no way of keeping count of those seconds of consciousness – he thought only one thing: Namely, that if that was dying, he hoped it would go a little quicker.

At some point, Arthur stirred awake. He felt stronger than before and finally had enough wits to take in some of his surroundings. It was nighttime, he perceived the nocturnal chorus of crickets. His attempt to open his eyes was met with a revelation, his vision, though fatigued, offered him a somewhat clear image. It was exhausting to look; he barely blinked a few times. He was in a tent, or something of that sort, he noticed. And it rocked around, like a boat or a waggon…or maybe he was just feeling dizzy. And when he managed to move his head just a little, to glared to the side, there were you. For a second, Arthur thought nothing. Then he concluded that he must be dreaming or was indeed dead and this was some funny way to pay for his sins. He closed his eyes. His arms felt too heavy, he wouldn't be able to rub his eyes or pinch his nose in concentration. But he simply opened them again. And the image of you was gone. So was Arthur's consciousness, a few moments later.

II. The Recovery

Over the next couple of days, Arthur would wake up from time to time. Sometimes seeing you, sometimes faces of women he didn't recognize. Dark skin and dark hair, Indians, he thought. Then he'd have nightmares that sometimes took his breath away and he'd wake up, feeling like a heavy weight was crushing his chest. And there would be someone - you, another woman, some strange man - pressing wet rags to his face and he wasn't strong enough to complain about it. To tell them to stop because it kept waking him up from dying, from sleeping, from unconsciousness. Whatever that black void was he'd fall in, but he much preferred it because then his body didn't hurt so much.

"You're going to be alright, mister."

Arthur opened his eye to look into the face of a dark-skinned woman. Braids falling from her head that was dangling right onto his face. There was the wet rag again, but it didn't feel so crushing this time.

Finally, his vision was…almost clear.

It was she who explained that he had collapsed and now was with Rains Fall’s people, as they were heading North to escape. The women that took care of him, Arthur caught glimpses of three different faces and though his headache was mostly gone, a persistent cloudiness lingered over his senses. Maybe it was because he sometimes seemed so confused or because he still lacked some control over when he fell asleep out of exhaustion, but when they talked to him, it was always very vague.

"Your friend will return soon. He's securing the perimeter, but he'll be back in a day or two", one of the women explained to him. They must mean Charles, he was certain. But when he wanted to ask, he found that it was hard forming words. His throat was parched and the attempt to speak yielded only a hoarse croak. A sympathetic smile from the woman conveyed understanding, at least.

….

You had sat at his side for four hours. It was late at night, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave his side. You had been running errands the last couple of days and had missed him waking up. Well, waking up without fever and therefore capable of forming thoughts. Tonight, he was restless, dreaming maybe.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and grabbed your wrist. His hand was clammy, still remnants of his sickness and probably his latest nightmare, but this time – for the first time ever – he was fully awake.

"It's okay, I'm right here", you reassured him.

Arthur simply stared at you like you were a ghost. Then his eyes narrowed to one of his signature contemptuous stares. It was a terrifying expression that you had seen a couple of times before. His nose would scrunch in disdain and his facial muscles were coiled with tension – a sign of irritation. In a firefight, it marked the precipice of drawing his gun; in a brawl, it forewarned of the impending launch of his first punch.

"Yer real" Arthur stated, his assertion hung in the air. His voice was low and quiet. It sounded like he needed something to drink, something to oil up his throat that has dried up from weeks of not using it.

"Unfortunately so, yeah", you said. Your heart sped up. He was awake. Finally. After all those days of not knowing if he'd make it, he was okay. Far from fit or fully recovered, but he wasn't dying no more. The thought made your eyes wet and forget about Arthur's sceptical glance.

Arthur blinked slowly. Those weren't dreams. They never had been. You had been there all this time.

Arthur closed his eyes again without saying something. His hand slipped from your wrist and onto his chest. He didn't want to talk, no, he didn't even want to see you right now. A swell of emotions came over him and he wasn't sure how to feel about your presence. For his inner turmoil, he kept silent on the outside, giving you the impression that he had dozed off again.

Eventually, he really fell asleep. Though when he awoke and pled for water before even opening his eyes, it was you who led a bowl to his lips. Whenever he woke up, you would be there, ready to jump at his commands. You didn't speak about why you were here or where you had been. Nothing of that matter. Nothing about Dutch or Micah or little Jack. It was always just handing him water or soup or helping him change his clothes.

Two days later, Charles showed up with a warm: "Welcome back, brother." It was he who explained what had happened. That two Indians had found him unconscious, buried under his horse. That his leg had been bruised from the impact, and he was weak, feverish and on the brink of death. It was an intricate matter, caring for him while heading North with the tribe and he admitted that only after one day with him under their care, Charles had seriously considered staying behind and caring for him. It had slowed down the group that much. Then they ran into you, simply sitting on your horse and watching the caravan of people go, before catching Charles' eye.

Arthur remained conflicted when Charles broached the topic of you. This inner struggle was not lost on Charles, keen observer that he has always been.

"She took good care of you. Without her, your recovery might have been in doubt."

And as this didn't seem to do the trick, he added…

"She sat with you every night. Washed you, made sure you had everything you needed. Even though Rains Fall disagreed, she stole a waggon so you had a comfortable place to get better.”

“She had left, Charles…”, Arthur croaked. You leaving the gang behind had left him with mixed feelings. He had worked through them before and had arrived at the conclusion that it was better for you, and still…seeing you here, healthy and restless, he regretted not having you there at the end. You could have been of great assistance. Could have prevented Abigail from being taken or made John’s prison break easier. Hell, he might have had more fun killing the last of the O’Driscoll’s if you had been by his side. The prospect of your sudden absence when he might have required your presence left a bitter aftertaste in his mind.  

“Don’t blame her for that. She had no obligation to stay, she was only with us for little more than a month at this time and she could tell that it was coming to an end”, Charles said.

Arthur thought what might have happened if you had been there at the stand-off. The notion of having another ally by his side, countering the overpowering presence of Bill, Javier, Micah and his two traitorous cronies, weighed heavily on his mind Yet, this reverie crumbled upon realization – there was the cruel possibility that instead of Miss Grimshaw, you would have found your demise. Or considering your proclivity for action over passivity, you might have opened fire earlier and would have caused an even worse outcome. Yes, maybe your absence had been the better.

“She rode hours through rain to fetch you a doctor”, Charles went on as he saw Arthur’s thoughts wander, “She found a nice man with a waggon. The doctor said he knew you and that you helped him one time in Rhodes.”

That put a little smile on Arthur’s lips, because he remembered the Doctor well. He was talking all funny and had had his waggon stolen. “Yeah”, Arthur answered as a sign of recognition.

Even Charles didn’t know what more to say, so he put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, before he left him alone.

The group had settled down near a creek. You had been on the move for a while now, and food supplies were running low, so they had decided to camp here for a couple of days, until hunting and gathering had provided enough resources to continue the travel. It was then that Arthur left his little nest that had been made for him. A simple waggon really, with some linen span across it to shield him from the weather. Sitting up was exhausting, but he managed to more or less crawl to the opening, sitting there and letting his legs dangle from the waggon. Everyone was working. The horses were grazing, a couple of kids were running around. It wasn’t difficult to spot you, chopping some wood and carrying it to the fire. That’s when you caught Arthur’s eye and approached him.

Seeing him out of “bed” put a big smile on your face.

“Why even bother?”, Arthur asked when you had reached him, jumping up the waggon to sit next to him. “Should’ve shot me when they found me. Tuberculosis can’t be healed, as far as I’ve heard.”

“Tuberculosis? What are you talking about?”, you looked at Arthur curiously. He stared back in silence, furrowing his eyebrows.

"It's what I've got", Arthur explained, a little sceptical as if your gaze alone had made him unsure of the diagnosis.

"You don't have tuberculosis. At least, the doctor we consulted said so", a smile played on your lips. A knowledgeable smile, as if you knew more than him. It was a cheeky smile.  

Arthur didn't believe you.

"Y/n, I was on the brink of death when you found me. I cough up more blood than I ever lost through bullets…taking a deep breath was almost impossible.”

"How's it now though? The breathing...", you asked.

Arthur halted and for the first time since he had regained consciousness, he drew in a deep breath. Then another, and another. It was slightly uncomfortable, as though something was constricting his lungs and made it harder for him to let air in, but it didn't hurt. It was only after the fourth big breath that a slight cough stirred from within. But it didn't ripple his airpipe, bringing red fluid onto his lips. It almost tickled. It reminded him of the sensation of pressing upon a spot where a bruise had once been, recently faded. It wouldn’t hurt, but it would tickle, and the skin would be terribly sensitive.

"It's...okay I guess", Arthur concluded.

You smiled, satisfied: "You don't have TB. I mean...maybe you do, but Doctor said if you had, it wouldn't have shown so soon and with such vigour. But he did say you had the worst case of pneumonia he had ever seen. We weren't sure you'd make it. But now that you have pulled through the worse", you shrugged, "I'm afraid you'll have to see my ugly face still."

Arthur didn't know what to say. Was he relieved? Happy, even? He didn't know. He was just speechless.

"Doctor said that in case you recover, you'll have to rest a lot. He knew you, by the way. Black fella with a nice-looking waggon. Weird grinder thing on top. Had to help him fix a wheel when I brought him up here. He said you had helped him some time ago, fighting the people who had stolen his waggon. And then he said you wouldn't be fighting anyone for a while, even when you are back on your feet. You need to rest for months, fresh air,...and especially, seeing that you have lost about half your weight, lots of good food. No smoking, of course."

Arthur’s chuckle rippled through the air as he started to grasp the situation. “That’s quite the relief”, he murmured, chuckled lightly as he finally started to grasp the whole situation: “That’s good news.”

“What? That you look like skin and bones?”, you teased, bumping your shoulder into his.

“No. That I’ll get to see your ugly face for some time longer”, he bumped back, stronger than you had and almost knocking you into the edge of the waggon. You hadn’t been so relieved for a long time. You felt something thick in your throat and tears gathered at the corners of your eyes.

“Missed ya, ya know”, you said quickly before a sob could work its way up.

“I missed ya too”, Arthur looked at you. He noticed the wet eyes and scrunched his nose immediately: “You gone soft while I was out? You crying ‘cause of me?”

The teasing tone alone was so friendly and welcome, it cheered you up even more.

“You ain’t worth crying over, Mr. Morgan”, you lied.

“Damn right I’m not”, he said. He let his eyes roam around the camp again. It felt familiar. The image or Horseshoe Overlook came to him, but this was different, of course. Or was it?

“You hungry?”, you asked.

“Starving. If ya can offer something else but soup”, Arthur quickly added. He only had eaten soup the last days. It was the only meal which didn’t require chewing and wouldn’t immediately choke him in his half-conscious state. This time, you brought him a small portion of stew. Not comparable to the stew Mr. Pearson had cooked. The small pieces of meat that you had granted him in his portion were as soft as they possibly could be, almost melting in his mouth.

“Slow down, god damn it”, you warned him.

“Yes, ma’am”, Arthur quietly mumbled. It was hard to slow down, but he knew he had to, since this was the first time he ate properly in – he later was being told – 13 days.

In the evening, you approached him again. Arthur was lying in his bed, half-recumbent with his journal on his lap. It was closed, Arthur was merely thinking. He had flipped through some entries before, but now he enjoyed being idle and watching everyone getting ready for the night.

“Arthur”, you knocked at the wood before appearing in his field of vision, “got something for you. I almost forgot, I had it stored away.”

You climbed on the waggon and put down a gunnysack. You carefully spilled its contents onto the floor. Arthur recognizes the round glass with the flower first. Then the picture of his mother. The picture of him and Mary. The shot of his father, though big chunks of the little picture were charcoaled and burnt, he only recognized it because he had looked at it so often. Two shirts, one pair of pants and an old belt that he hadn’t used in a while.

“That’s all that was really left, I’m afraid”, you said. He didn’t need to ask, he understood. You had gone back to where they had last camped and had rummaged through what was left after the fire to store it for him.

“Why did you…?”, Arthur started, picking up the picture of his mother.

“I…don’t know. I never had many belongings to my name, but those I had, meant much to me. Figured you feel the same”, you shrugged. Then a cheeky smile appeared on your lips: “Thought it would be nice to bury you with them if you didn’t make it.”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “It was stupid to go there. Might have been dangerous.”

“Felt worth it for me, I guess”, you said.

After a pause, Arthur thanked you. You wished him a good night at let him be. As soon as your frame vanished from the little field of view that the open canvas space granted him, he opened his journal again. He pulled out Mary’s last letter to him. Not reading the neatly written words again, he simply turned the envelope upside down, until the ring fell into his hand.

…

It took two more days before Arthur was strong enough to walk around and be on his feet for more than ten minutes at a time. But he felt fine enough to take a bath in the creek and shave. It was shocking to see his cheeks that have sunken quite a bit due to the weight loss, but Arthur’s appetite was as good as ever, so you didn’t worry about it too much.

Most of the day he spent by sitting in the shade and observing the people. Mostly you, if he was being honest. You played with the kids, helped wherever another hand was needed.

He was trying to get up from his little patch under a tree when Rains Fall approached him. Arthur hadn’t encountered him yet, he had been busy with arranging and managing the move. The last time Arthur had seen him, he had delivered him his dying son.

“How are you, Mr. Morgan?”, Rains Fall’s voice was as gentle as ever.

“Feeling much better now. I can’t thank you enough for taking me in”, Arthur said.

“After all you have done for us, it is I who must thank you”, Rain Falls smiled slightly. Silence ensued between the two men before Rains Fall spoke again, “I recall our conversation when you were my company on the ride up the mountain. You said that some people in your gang still had a chance for a good live and that you wanted to give them that.”

“Yeah”, Arthur said, his eyes fixed on you. You were brushing some horse in the distance.

“What’s with her?”, Rains Fall asked, following Arthur’s gaze, “I heard she took excellent care of you. Charles told me she’s a fierce spirit when cornered, but she seems tame and gentle. I can see that you care for her deeply too.”

“Suppose I do”, Arthur answered, “I’m not sure if that’s what she wants.”

“There are always some uncertainties in life, don’t waste too much thought on those that can be resolved with one simple question”, the chief answered. Arthur nodded, as if he understood, though he wasn’t so sure how much of the situation he had actually grasped. The ring that Arthur had picked out of the letter was in his pocket, and he felt it, when Rains Fall spoke those words. When nothing more was said on that matter, Rains Falls sighed: “Tomorrow, we’ll be on the move again. We haven’t covered much ground yet, but I’m certain we’ll make it.”

It was a statement that needed no comment and Arthur watched as the old man walked away.

-

The group barely covered ten miles a day. It was a good pace, nevertheless, for Arthur was on his feet again and tried to make himself useful. He tended to the horses, seeing they are well cared for and rested for the journey. All this time, you were pretty much at his side non-stop.

“You used to say ya don’t need me to do babysitting…but now yer the one watching me like I’m gonna do something stupid the second you lay your eyes off me”, Arthur teased.

“I don’t trust you to do no heavy lifting”, you said with a smile. It was a good opportunity to be close to him and help.

All of a sudden, you had started sleeping in the same waggon as he. Because the one you had used was “needed otherwise”. You sat next to him at night, watching him draw in his journal and often fell asleep way before him. Arthur was unsure if this was a sign that everything was like before, that you still liked him, but he was glad about the closeness again. The second night, he held you. The third night, you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest.

-

“I’m going to leave”, you said. You sat next to Arthur and watched his pencil strokes. They had been shading the horse he had just sketched. The pencil halted and Arthur looked at you.

“What?”

“Day after tomorrow, I’m leaving. I want to head south again. Then west, maybe”, you looked Arthur in the eye. His blue eyes which were warmly illuminated by the oil lamp in the waggon darted around your face. You weren’t teasing or joking, he could tell as much.

“You know I’m not someone who sticks with a group. If this thing goes bad, I’ll feel like I’m responsible”, you offered further explanation.

“Yer gonna head out there alone?”, Arthur asked, his voice strained.

“Was hoping you’d join me, actually”, you swallowed. You had dragged the question out for a while now. You knew that Arthur needed to be somewhat recovered if he was to travel with you, so you had had a good excuse for not asking for a long while. But the last couple of days the anxiety had been eating you from the inside.

Arthur didn’t answer. He watched you; you watched your own hands. As he remained silent, you unwillingly lifted your head to look at him. This was all that Arthur needed. His hand found your chin and lifted it even more, turning it towards him. In the blink of an eye, your lips met. Arthur tasted the tobacco on your lips and figured he missed smoking. Or at least, he missed sharing a cigarette with you.

“I thought you might not like me no more”, Arthur said as the kiss had ended. Both of your faces remained so close, your foreheads touched, and Arthur only needed to whisper the words to make you understand.

“Well, there’s always been lot of nonsense in your brain”, you grinned. You were relieved, because frankly, you had feared the same.

You kissed him again before asking: “Can I take that as a yes?”

“You better”, Arthur breathed, now snaking his hands around you and pulling you into yet another kiss.

III. The Life After

The parting with the Rains Fall and his people unfolded smoothly. Farewells were exchanged without any pressure of time and in good spirits. Charles and Arthur, in particular, enjoyed a more extended exchange of goodbyes compared to their previous parting. Both could go smiling, knowing that the other one would be fine.

Arthur got a spare horse, a young, not entirely tamed one, though Arthur was more than capable of handling it. Your travels back South progressed fast. It took a toll on Arthur, traveling on horseback after he had only been on his feet for a week, but you took care of that with long breaks and early nights. Sometimes, you’d rest for an entire day, also giving the horses some time to recover. You’d take care of food in a nearby town or go hunting, while Arthur watched the little possessions you travelled with. By the time you reached Ambarino, the leaves on the trees had assumed hues of red and brown and the nights were getting colder.

“Shouldn’t we head West?”, Arthur halted his horse. You had just crossed the Grizzlies and had travelled along the Dakota River for a while, before you stirred your horse East. The air was fresh, and Arthur was wrapped in a coat you had bought in a town before crossing the Grizzlies. The sun was still strong enough that the buttons could remain open, but sometimes a strong gush of wind would send a shiver through your spine and remind you that winter would be here soon.

“We can’t continue traveling”, you said. Arthur was exhausted, and so were you.

“So, what do you suggest?”, Arthur rode next to you, stirring his horse into a slow trod next to yours.

“I know a place where we can lay low for the winter”, you said, not explaining further, even though you felt Arthur’s curious gaze. Only when you arrived at O’Creagh’s Run later that day and headed so decidedly for Hamish Sinclair’s cabin, Arthur understood.

“That’s where you wanna live?”, he asked amusedly.

“Nice man lives there. I’m sure he’ll let us stay with him for a while”, you explained. Arthur smiled, but didn’t want to spoil that he knew the old veteran. Hamish was already outside doing repairs on his little boat when he saw you approach.

“Ain’t that a nice surprise!”, Hamish raised his arms, “A visit by two friends at once!”

Now it was your turn to be surprised: “You know each other?!”

“Of course. Arthur Morgan!”, Hamish shook the hand of Arthur as soon as he had dismounted, “You’ve lost some weight my friend, but you look as fine as ever.”

Over hot coffee, Hamish was filled in on the happenings of the last month. When you asked to stay at his place for a while, Hamish was delighted. Almost immediately, you started to build another bed, because it was agreed upon that Arthur would need something more comfortable to sleep on. You would be fine with the floor in front of the fireplace for now and Hamish would continue to sleep in his bed.

It worked remarkably well. The three of you were rather quiet and when something needed to be done, it was done sooner rather than later. Arthur fished most of the time, you were out hunting with Hamish. Hamish would teach you to cook some meals, because, as he put it “A man that has lived alone for such a long time, knows his cooking spoon”, and you’d run errands in town, if something needed to be fetched. The fall of the Van der Linde Gang was still comparably recent, so the posters were still all about and to risk Arthur being seen, wasn’t a risk anyone was willing to take.

As idyllic as most of the days passed, one would think that there weren’t any struggles or that you spent your days hunting and selling pelts. But you would have never been able to sell enough pelts to support three adults, so sometimes, you’d go out and rob a stage or some rich looking traveller. You told Arthur but kept quiet in front of Hamish.

The days became shorter and the chill of winter settled in, Arthur’s recovery progressed steadily. He started to put on some more weight and longer walks or chopping wood didn’t leave him struggling for air any longer. Hamish would sometimes go out for a whole day, granting the two of you precious moments of solitude and intimacy.

In December, Hamish announced he’d be gone for a few days, visiting a cousin in Valentine. He’d be back for Christmas Day, he promised. Arthur and you considered the possibility that Hamish’ cousin was a fabrication, a ruse to give the two of you some more time alone. Nevertheless, you appreciated the gesture wholeheartedly.

Snow had fallen and the fireplace had been ceaselessly crackling in the past few days. So, the hut remained comfortably warm. In Hamish’ absence, you shared Arthur’s bed. Nestled against his chest, you traced circles through the dark patch of hair just below his navel. The only sounds to be heard were the steady crackling of the fire and the hoot of an owl nestled in a nearby tree.

“Ya mean a lot to me, y/n”, Arthur’s words slipped out so unexpectedly that you sat up and looked at him with surprise and suspicion. You were well aware of his feelings. After all, he had demonstrated as much just half an hour ago, in that very bed.

“Yer talking strange”, you remarked and raised an eyebrow.

“I love you”, Arthur said, his tone carrying an unusual weight.

“And…I love you too”, you replied slowly. This wasn’t the first time you had said that to each other, but the manner in which Arthur said it felt different. Arthur gave you a look that was so full of uncertainty and self-depreciation for himself, you lightly slapped him on his bare shoulder.

“What is going on? Did I do something wrong?”, you asked. You even raised the blanket to check if this was a new sort of foreplay that he was trying because he was ready for the second round. It was also an attempt to lift the mood, because the tension of the situation started to prickle your skin.

“Ain’t nothing wrong. I just gotta ask ya something and it ain’t easy”, Arthur complained. sitting up straight.

“Yes. I’m sorry Arthur, but the Gingerbread you baked yesterday is inedible”, you joked. You and Arthur had tried to make some gingerbread yesterday and because you hadn’t felt like baking, he had taken control of the matter. The result was…lacking, to say the least. You had lied that it looked and tasted alright, but you had been sure that by the disgusted face you had made it was clear that it had to disappear before Hamish came back and threw them out for dishonouring his kitchen.

“That’s not it and…”, Arthur looked at you funny, “It wasn’t that bad.” You smiled at him sympathetically.

“I just…god damn it, woman”, Arthur rearranged his sitting position. The he got up and slipped into his pants and shirt. He was somewhat angry, irritated maybe. Or nervous? You watched him confused.

Arthur was still fastening his pants when his voice, low and hesitant, reached your ears: “I just wanted you to know that I love ya…”

You nodded as if it was silly to suggest otherwise. With Arthur’s warmth now absent from your side, your body was cooling down and you pulled the blanked further up. And then Arthur caught you completely off guard because he knelt down besides the bed. His fingers swiftly plunged into his pockets and retrieved a ring.

“I was wondering if ya might wanna marry me”, Arthur voice was firm. He didn’t want to give the impression that he was in any doubt that he wants to spend the rest of the time with you. He was fully aware that he wasn’t the youngest anymore and that the sickness had marked him significantly. Since recovering, he had gained back most of the weight, yet ther were times when his muscles reminded him of their limitations, failing him when he attempted tasks that were once effortless.

You stared at him in disbelief, a thousand thoughts running through your head. When Arthur opened his mouth again, you were afraid that you had taken too long to answer.

“I thought it was too late for me to marry someone. I’m old. And unlovable, mostly”, Arthur chuckled warmly, “If two people ain’t too big of a group for you…” Arthur added mumbling ‘maybe three or four at some point’ before continuing, “I’d want ya to know that I plan to stick with you. Yer still young, so I understand if yer don’t want to-“

“Yes.”

Arthur shut up at looked at you. Was that a yes to “not wanting to marry”? Arthur looked like a kicked puppy for a moment, before you cleared his confusion: “Yes, I want to marry you, you dumbass.”

The ring slipped on seamlessly. The Arthur picked you up, naked as you were and hugged you lovingly. You squealed because of the cold air.  

“Are we telling Hamish?”

Arthur mumbled the response into the crook of your neck which he was peppering with kisses: “If ya want. That enough of a Christmas present for him?”

You hit Arthur’s back: “Hell no! The man lets us live in his home. I was thinking about getting him a new rifle.”

Arthur set you down and you gathered your clothes, putting them on slowly, as Arthur was taking his time admiring you.

“Put some money back”, you grinned mischievously, “It was also meant for buying you a present. But I suppose that being my husband is good enough.”

“Oh you!”, Arthur growled and scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder. For all the strength he had lost, he was still strong enough to do that. Barefooted, Arthur stamped out of the cabin. “Give me one reason to not throw you into the lake!”, he teased and approached the jetty. It wasn’t frozen yet entirely, but the water was icy cold and black.

“I’m your wife!”

“Not yet you ain’t!”, Arthur made a motion that made you shriek, but he only feinted to throw you in, “besides, that is no valid reason.”

“I’ll kill you, if you do!”, now you tried to break free, but Arthur’s grip was firm.

“Ohh. That’s more like it. Though I think you love me too much for that.”

“Many wives kill their husbands!”, you screamed.

“I could drown ya first, ya know”, Arthur teased and swirled around, so you faced the black water.

“You’ll never find out where I stashed the money and won’t afford a present for Hamish!”, you finally said.

“That’s true”, with that, Arthur let you down. As soon as your bare feet touched the snow, you darted inside, shivering violently in front of the fireplace.

Arthur soon followed, having more of a quieter complexion. He closed the door behind him, and the warm and loving atmosphere of the cabin was restored. In many ways, Arthur saw you as an equal. You were just as good as a shot as he was, just as fast when it came to running or riding. There was no need to escape his old live, because you were an outlaw just like him. You didn’t mind if life meant running away from the law. He didn’t need to tread lightly with you. You could take criticism; a discussion or whatever life threw at you. And yet, he found your movements graceful, gentle. Most of the time, at least. Arthur smiled at the thought. When your opponent was a bigger man and it would come to close ranged fighting, you became sloppy and angry, but with a gun you were the definition of accuracy and grace.

“Hello?”, you looked at Arthur wit tilted head, drawing his attention back from his reverie, “Where have you wandered off to?” His daydreams had lasted so long, he had barely noticed that you had dressed yourself.

“Jus’ dreamin’ about my future wife, ‘s all”, Arthur grinned sheepishly. He extended his arms invitingly, and you moved closer, nestling into his embrace.  

“Don’t start expecting things I’m not capable”, you said.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know?! Maybe I want my husband to be capable of baking proper gingerbread for Christmas and then you come along and-“, Arthur interrupted you by poking you into the side and making you squeal.

“You do it better then!”, he challenged.

“I suppose I will!”, you grinned back, heading for the little stove, “I bet mine are at least two times more…edible than your sorry experiment.”

“What are we betting? A kiss, Mrs. Morgan?”, Arthur said slimily, his arms crossed and watching you. The name made you feel warm and happy. For all the times you’d been mistaken as a Bell, you like that name way more. But for old time’s sake, you turned around and looked at the man you love.

“Your life, Morgan!”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @xclovers @photo1030 @cowboydisaster @stilinskiwitch @globetrotter28 @unbotheredbeeeee @eyelovie @ashjbu @lovrgirlsstuff @how-the-heck-would-i-know @j4llyf7sh @urfavjanalein @thatonestrangebird @nirvanaaaonly

[sednonamoris]

arsonist’s lullaby

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: With Sean dead and the Confederate gold nowhere to be found, the Braithwaites learn exactly why boys are off-limits.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/gore, canonical character death, arson/fiery deaths, angst, kidnapping, toxic loyaltyyyyy

Word count: 2,777

A/N: Emerging from my absence to post this chapter and fade back into the ether ✌️

Series masterlist • AO3

—

In the end, it’s a perfectly ordinary day when things come to a head.

Midsummer sun has beat down all day, only just now mellowing to a deep orange, early evening glow. Standing halfway up the path to camp on guard duty, nothing remarkable has happened at all, except maybe the number of deerflies you’ve had to fend off. Like the heat alone isn’t enough.

Micah and Sean and Bill rode into town on business earlier. Sean jabbered something about meeting up with Arthur and that Gray sheriff, but he was insistent on keeping the rest a mystery. High profile stuff, you know. Not for old-timers like you to worry about. You just rolled your eyes and sent him on his way.

Other than that, it’s been awfully quiet— Even after Karen and Bill and Lenny and Arthur hit Valentine’s bank the other week. If you were a more suspicious person you might call it too quiet, but it’s been nice to have a bit of a break. You and John have hardly spent a moment apart. Camp chores go quicker together, you tell everyone, but it hardly takes a genius to see you’re more attached at the hip than ever. Moving sacks of cornmeal and haying horses and chopping wood doesn’t usually result in the lovestruck looks stuck on your faces, after all.

Arthur, too, has enjoyed the down time. If he isn’t sharing a cup of morning coffee with his wife then he’s reading storybooks to his surrogate son, complete with ridiculous voices. He puts on a deep, gruff baritone for the bad guys, then pitches higher for a hero that sounds suspiciously like Jack. It’s sweet. The mantle of secondhand fatherhood fits snugly across his broad shoulders, and you can’t help but feel that if anyone ever deserved a second chance at all this, it’s him.

John’s been watching them with the strangest mix of joy and wistfulness and regret and shame. It’s always gone in a blink. You never quite know what to say.

But there’s no time to ruminate further when a slow, steady, thumping lope comes within earshot. You almost miss it, lost in thought.

“Who goes there?”

You’re not sure why you bother asking; the footfalls are too heavy to be anyone but Bill on Brown Jack. When they come into view there’s a tense set to Bill’s shoulders and unease in the whites of Brown Jack’s eyes. You see something slung behind the saddle, unmoving.

A body.

You only register it as Sean when he slows to a stop beside you.

It’s jarring to see the lively young Irishman so horribly, deathly still. His clothes are stained with blood and singed from bullets, but the gaping hole in his head is what turns your stomach and raises your hackles as well as the hairs on the back of your neck. Pulpy brains. Shards of skull. A once-bright eye bulged, crooked and unseeing. A damn good headshot.

Who would be gunning for him? you think. But really, after all the trouble you’ve been stirring down here, who wouldn’t? It’s only been a matter of weeks since you and the boys stole those horses. Less since he and Arthur burned the tobacco fields.

You look up at Bill after a long moment.

“Wanna tell me how the fuck you got the kid killed?” you say, voice low. Simmering. Seething in the summer heat.

Bill’s expression is caught between guilt and resentment. “It was them Gray boys.”

“Them Gray boys?”

“They were waitin’ for us! Arthur… well, he reckons they figured us out. Talked to that Braithwaite woman, I mean.”

“Where is he? Alive?”

“He and Micah ain’t far behind. Don’t expect they’ll be comin’ together.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just shake your head and try to think past the blood pounding through your eardrums. Ringing in your skull. “We gotta bury him.”

“I know,” he snaps.

Where would Sean want to be buried? With a view of the water? In the shade of the trees? Certainly not alone, but there’s little choice there. “We gotta— He deserves someplace decent.”

“I know.” Softer, this time. “...There’s a quiet spot up the other side of the path.”

You nod. “Don’t let the girls see.”

—

The air is thick and stagnant even as the afternoon fades into evening. You’ve always hated digging graves, and this heat only makes it worse. Cicadas hum. Flies buzz. Bill picked a good spot out of the dying sun, but sweat still pours down both of your faces and necks, soaking through your shirts. Salt stings your eyes and the tip of your tongue.

Once the hole is deep enough, Bill does his best to arrange whatever’s left of Sean with some dignity; arms crossed, a coin over his intact eye. It’s still a sorry sight. You take the pistol from his holster to give to Karen and let its dead weight rest in your belt while you and Bill get to burying. When the work is done, he stutters a few insufficient words over a yet-unmarked grave. He looks to you, then, and you fish your flask off your belt and take a strong swig before pouring a generous amount over the freshly turned earth.

“Cheers, brother,” says a hollow voice that sounds like yours. “Save us a seat.”

You don’t bother saying where.

—

Karen hits you when you tell her. A full arm swing. Open-palmed. Then again when you hand her the pistol.

You let her.

Feels like the least you can do.

—

The evening passes in a haze of numb grief. You don’t know what to do with yourself, so you hide, only emerging from your tent when you hear raised voices outside Dutch’s.

“Where’s my goddamn son?” Abigail demands. “They took him, didn’t they? They took my son!”

And Jesus if this day couldn’t get worse. Your eyes scan the camp, like you’d be able to spot little Jack where his mother couldn’t. The sick feeling that’s been festering in your stomach since Sean’s burial twists and writhes and weighs you down like lead. Everyone knows missing is about as good as dead these days, but you don’t dare say that to Abigail.

“Where is my son, Dutch Van der Linde?!”

More and more begin to crowd around the commotion. The girls lay consoling hands on Abigail’s shoulders that quake with anger and fear. Arthur’s face is grim and drawn beside her. John’s is shadowed behind them, torn between guilt and anger. Hosea pushes past the throng to lay blame on the Braithwaites— at least, he says Kieran saw some boys what looked like Braithwaites not far from camp earlier. After what happened in town today, you have to admit it makes sense. Both families have you figured out, and they’re out for their pound of flesh.

As if Sean wasn’t enough already.

“We will find Jack, we will bring him back to you, and we will kill any fool that had the temerity to touch one hair on that boy’s head,” Dutch vows in answer to Abigail’s frantic questioning. “Right now.”

And he turns on his heel and makes toward The Count to do just that. Everyone follows. Bill calls out asking about extra guns that are accepted readily. Micah and Kieran are ordered to protect the camp while you’re all away. Weapons drawn, eyes blazing, you mount your horses and make off into the night.

This is the warpath. The beating hooves and rushing blood. Moonshine canters steadily beneath you, keeping stride with Old Boy and Arthur’s mount on either side. It’s been a long time since the whole gang has ridden out like this, chomping at the bit for a bloodletting.

“I swear, I’ll kill everyone there!” John snarls. He’s settled into his anger now, quicker on its draw than his pistol.

“Easy, Marston,” Arthur says. His voice is low and dangerous like how he warns off strangers. Not family. Not John. “You don’t check your shots, Jack’ll end up dead too.”

“Don’t tell me to take it easy! That’s my—” but John chokes on the word before he can get it out.

Son, he was going to say. That’s his son.

But Jack is as much Arthur’s as he is John’s anymore, and right now neither one can stand it. You can’t bear to look at the fear nor the anger nor the burning blame in either of their eyes.

—

The oaks that line the path to Braithwaite Manor are always imposing, but here in the dusky nighttime you swear you can feel their ancient eyes watching. Bloody roots gorged on bloodstained grounds; twisted, gnarled branches grasping for a Heaven they’ll never reach. There are few stars that shine through the scattered clouds in the early night sky, but you wish upon every one that Jack is safe, and you vow that no one will make it out of here alive if he isn’t.

Everyone dismounts at the gate. Beside you John and Arthur are tense. Mouths set, trigger fingers twitching, eyes aflame with a primal sort of anger and fear that can only come from losing a child. Dutch, too, is furious. The fact that anyone would touch one of his own is normally enough to have him ranting, almost frothing at the mouth, but he must sense that Arthur and John need him calm.

Calmer than them, anyhow.

Ahead, the manor house is lit with a warm orange glow from its pillared porch. The moon casts strange light across the shadowy night, flickering in and out of cloud cover. There is only the sound of gravel beneath your boots and anticipation.

“Get down here now, you inbred trash!” Dutch bellows at the first sight of the Braithwaite boys.

“What the hell do you want?” they call back, like they don’t know.

John makes to aim his gun and you brush against his shoulder as a comfort and a warning. He snarls but doesn’t shoot. Not yet.

Dutch continues, “We’ve come for the boy. You must’ve known we would.”

Arthur is little better off, glaring holes in the heads of every Braithwaite son and cousin and uncle and friend that emerges from the looming house. There’s more of them by the minute. You feel everyone tense around you. Their guns aren’t lifted - not yet - but all it will take is a sign from Dutch.

Not yet.

“That is a young boy. That is not the way you do things. Hand him over.”

“Get the hell off our land!”

Not yet.

Dutch’s eyes darken in challenge. He doesn’t so much as turn his head toward any of you, but the shift in energy is electric. The whole world holds its breath.

“If you ain’t gonna be civilized about this…”

Now.

All at once everyone opens fire. It’s a symphony of gunfire, bullets screaming by from every direction. You pull John behind a crate just as one grazes his ear. He snarls out a curse while you kill the man on the balcony who shot at him. The body tumbles over the railing and stains the steps red with blood and brains.

Dutch calls out marching orders, but through the din he’s nearly impossible to hear. John heads inside. You follow suit. The manor doors swing wide open like the unhinged jaw of a snake, welcoming you into the belly of the beast.

“Jack!”

“Where are you, kid?”

“Jack!”

His name echoes off expensive oak floors and through lofted ceilings. You tear through the lower floor like someone possessed, ripping open mahogany chests and finely stained china cabinets and the couch cushions of richly-rugged sitting rooms. Anywhere a little boy might fit. Then plenty of places he wouldn’t just for good measure.

Somewhere in the rush you lose John. Over the gurgling rasp of a Braithwaite son’s last breath you hear him shout something from upstairs. You make to run up the winding staircase but stop dead in your tracks when you see Catherine Braithwaite being kicked down them.

Dutch sneers, his lip curled with generational distaste for a man who preaches against revenge. She’s sobbing, spewing vitriol with every shaky breath. All her sons are dead now. You can see it in the gape of her burnt ash mouth. In the flames that lick the polished wood floors from their dropped torches. In the fire reflected back in Dutch’s eyes.

—

Jack isn’t there. Catherine Braithwaite uses her last breaths to gloat that he’s been sold to a man in the city.

Sold.

You watch Dutch let her go, then watch still as she runs screaming into the flames. The house collapses over a shrieking phantom of the Deep South with a groan and a sigh. By the color of the flames it’ll burn for hours yet.

The trees stare as you leave, gorged on blood and ash.

—

Dawn comes blood red and brutal, streaking through the sky with its first light warning. Dutch, John, Hosea, and Arthur are all gathered around the camp table to discuss your next moves. Whatever those are, though, you can’t imagine. John didn’t sleep a wink last night, just staring at tent canvas and stewing in blame. He looks awful. Everyone does.

You’re sat next to Abigail by the campfire. She says nothing, but the hunch of her shoulders and the blue-hot flame of her eyes tells you there’s nothing to be said. Her boy is gone. Missing.

You brought her a bowl of porridge for breakfast, but neither of you is up for eating much. She stares into the fire while it sits untouched in her lap. You push your oats around with the spoon and pretend not to eavesdrop.

Of course Marston’s scared rotten, Arthur says in hushed tones. I am too. We killed all them people— for what? For nothin’. There ain’t no gold here.

For living, Dutch corrects him, and you can’t help but think it’s a shame that not all of you got to that part. The living. Sean is dead and gone forever. For all you know, Jack might be too.

But all of that is put immediately to rest when Lenny walks into camp with two Pinkerton agents at gunpoint.

Milton and Ross, they call themselves, swaggering through the whole of camp like you’re not all outlaws and thieves. Killers. Everyone stands as they pass, slowly circling in like vultures to the promise of violence.

The matching felt bowler hats on their heads can’t hide the pockmarks on Milton’s face nor the smug, bristling mustache on Ross’. The government is surely paying a pretty penny for your capture if the fineness of their clothes is anything to go by. Their shoes are shined and polished. You can’t help but notice the way the red Rhodes clay oozes up beneath the soles and paints them muddy.

“This thing? It’s done,” Milton announces when he makes his way to Dutch.

Dutch barely bothers to turn and face him. He doesn’t stand. Everyone else slowly, slowly creeps closer. One step at a time. All coming together. Vultures. Violence.

Things like this are never just done.

Never.

Milton calls Dutch a lot of things. A shepherd of lost souls. A messiah. Sarcasm drips from the syllables, and you wonder how he might react if you told him Dutch was the only god to answer a single one of your prayers. Even Swanson lost touch with Christ long ago. Now when he falters he begs Dutch Van der Linde for forgiveness. All of you do.

“I’m nothing but a seeker, Mr. Milton,” Dutch finally says.

Milton’s eyes narrow. There's a faint expression you can’t quite place on his face when he replies, “You ain’t much of anything more than a killer, Mr. Van der Linde.”

He offers freedom, then. Three days to run and hide and live like civilized human beings in exchange for Dutch. It’s almost laughable.

Dutch steps forward and every gun in camp cocks. Agent Milton seems suddenly to remember how very much outnumbered and outgunned he is.

“I think your new friend should leave, Dutch,” Ms. Grimshaw says.

Milton calls it a mistake, calls you all fools, but the only foolish mistake you can see is letting them live.

—

John and Arthur leave together after all that. They make for a place called Shady Belle and promise Abigail it’s close to the city where her son is being held. A good spot to camp while everyone does what they can to bring that little boy home.

Looking at Karen, miserable and bleary-eyed drunk, you can’t help but think it’s awfully far from Sean’s grave.

[nondienary]

i feel a little stupid bc i just now realized where the name Ostin Tashe comes from bc in band today my director used the term ostinato, and when i tell you my jaw DROPPED. i was like "how is that spelled" and he spelled it and i went a little feral tbh.

so, here's your daily reminder that micah risinger is a GENIUS.

[verdemoun]

okay hi hello again im still obsessed with the timewarp au thank you for feeding this new obsession of mine <33

im kinda curious as to what you think would happen if any/all of the timewarpers were found out. like it could be by the history-buff fans of the VDLG or just by some randos on the internet, or even the government (that one would be wild, but i digress lmao). like what does the gang even do at that point??

anyway tysm this is such a fun au !

dutch would be the most likely to found out, since he lives in a psych ward and constantly has medical staff on both public and private payroll trying to figure out what his deal is. ironically, this is the best and worst scenario because imagine fbi trying to interrorgate 1911 dutch about how he time travelled and instead getting dutch's anti-government rhetoric.

the psychologist the gang frequent has figured it out and coped by drinking. she frankly struggles more with the sheer number of issues the gang have in general and as a result of time travel opposed to the fact she has over a dozen patients that are proof time travel exists. imagine trying to unpack the psychological horror that is bill williamson and then add the fact he's a time traveller? wild.

one history buff fan that figured it out is Johnathan Pearson, the grandson of Simon Pearson and father of Isaac's friend Sam Pearson. Isaac has a strange habit of making friends with the few surviving gang's descendants. Johnathan originally fainted upon realising Arthur Morgan was THE Arthur Morgan, but after attending a single barbeque with most of the gang present and getting the fangirling and questions out of his system, he realised most of them were just... lame. Dutch needed psychiatrist drugs, Hosea is an old man who tells stories more fiction than fact. Arthur is an awkward disaster when he isn't murdering people. The infamous John Marston would rather play tea party with his daughter than explain his life story, which is in all reality boring: orphan adopted by narcissistic, escapes, has family, doesn't escape, dies. Micah couldn't explain why be betrayed the gang, and refused to talk about Amos. Bill gave the easy answer of internalised homophobia and deep routed psychological issues stemming from childhood.

They weren't actually that interesting. There was no genius. No criminal mastermind. Dutch was charismatic and mentally ill. The gang members were vulnerable people who needed a leader. Now they host bbqs and have to beg the youth for help them connect their phones to the wireless speaker. Johnathan Pearson proceeded to get over it, and was nearly outcast from his forums for calling the gang losers. Never meet your heroes.

[baggebythesea]

Imagine the questions the Glitra kids ask their parents.

Cy'ra, EVIL GENIUS, is wayyy too interested in mommy Glimmer's evil mentors.

Cy'ra: "Mommy, EXACTLY what happened when you took Shadow Weaver's hand?"

Micah: "Oh, that was a simple power transfer spell, pumpkin, I can teach you if you..."

Glimmer: "Something evil and traumatizing that you DO NOT need to learn about. Also, do your homework."

[loftycriies]

Life update for your long term followers? ❤️

I didn’t know anyone still followed me on here that isn’t on all my other social media oh my goodness haha.

Still married to Andrew (12 years in Jan), Elijah turns 11 and Micah turns 9 in February. Both have grown to be so sweet and compassionate and responsible and smart. They can code and animate and do incredible artwork. Elijah’s a math genius and loves writing. They attend a STEM Academy which I love. Andrew and I both work at Walmart but opposite shifts (altho we get to work together for two hours on Saturdays and Sundays which is nice!) he’s been here for 8 years but I’ve only been here for like 7 months but I also worked here 8 years ago for a bit but anyways I’m really happy with it after suffering through a terrible job for years. I really love online grocery honestly and I’m GOOD at it which makes it even better. I have a whole lot of friends and support. Also! Both of us are sober. I quit drinking almost completely when I was 23 (I’m 30 now! Can you believe it! I made my first tumblr when I was 15) and Andrew is almost 4? Years sober I think? I don’t do a whole lot other than work and clean and hang out w my kids and play fortnite and read books. (I’ve read around 120 books so far this year which is awesome cause my goal was 52 and I thought I would give up after a week 😅)

We were hit by a tornado and then a few years later in the same apartment, had it burn down in a fire started by our neighbor so the crazy circumstances have not quit happening to us but we are genuinely soooo so happy and at peace in life. Idk who you are stranger but I hope you are too. 🤗

[unclewileys-bahblog]

Migi & dali are from the same name manga/anime, which is sort of comedy-horror or comedy-suspence ? Blonde twins who are geniuses in some aspects but extremely stupid and codependant too, hope this was understandable and actually helped at all lol —🛠🛗

We’ll certainly try our best! Enjoy these two cutie pies! ^^

Name: Marley, Dylan, Adam, Frankie, Martin, Micah, Ramona

Age: 10-16

Gender: Nonbinary

Pronouns: It/it’s, Sound/sound’s, They/them, ?/?’s, Mew/mew’s, Xae/xaem, Gem/gem’s, Th*y/th*m, Dare/dare’s

Sexuality: Bisexual

Species: Human

Ethnicity: Hispanic

Source: N/A

Roles: Verbal protector, Emotional overrider

CisIDs: Atheist, OCD, Tan skin, Blonde, Curly hair, Hot pink eyes, Moles, Smart, Courageous, Brave, Short-tempered, Anger issues, Eccentric, Genius, Stupid, Codependent, Bilingual (spanish, english), Autistic, BPD, Introvert

TransIDS: TransStarPupils, TransPinkBlood, TransAbled (wheelchair user), TransIntersex, TransButterflyWings

Paraphiles: Poképhilia, FictoMAP, AutoDacryphilia, Fictophilia

Other Labels: Nebularomantic

Picrews Used: 1

Faceclaims:

Name: Dallas, Nathan, Andrew, Maya, Paige, Parker, Danny

Age: 10-16

Gender: Genderfluid

Pronouns: Ix/ix, Hy/hym, She/her, Rawr/rawr’s, Lit/lit’s, Ink/ink’s, He/him, They/them, Envi/envious, Rock/rock’s, Voi/void’s, !/!’s

Sexuality: Lesbian

Species: Human

Ethnicity: Hispanic

Source: N/A

Roles: Emotional overrider, Social protector

CisIDs: Atheist, Tan skin, Blonde hair, Pink eyes, Freckles, Cane user, Hot pink eyes, Wavy hair, Autistic, OCD, Anger issues, Genius, Bubbly, Extroverted, Stupid, Silly, Kind, Loving, Codependent, Bilingual (spanish, english)

TransIDS: TransHeartPupils, TransOrangeBlood, TransOrangeEyes, TransDemon, TransAccent (british), TransMagicalGirl

Paraphiles: Oviphilia, Taphophilia, Frotteurism, Celebriphilia

Picrews Used: 1

Other Labels: N/A

Faceclaims:

Here you go, kitten! Hope they’re to your liking!

And as always, feel free to change whatever you’d like!

- Mod Alyssa

[morphaeus]

— MORPHAEUS writeblr reintroduction

— about the author;

hello! I've recently had an unexpected break from tumblr, but as I'm finally back, I thought I'd write a new intro post. My name is Micah; I'm 32, non-binary, and my pronouns are they/them. I'm a caffeine addict, a vegetarian, a college student, a gamer, and a writer. I live in the midwest, and I'm neurodivergent and disabled.

I write mostly speculative fiction, and my protagonist are typically queer. At the moment I'm not posting my stories anywhere, but I'm exploring several options to do so eventually. I'm also in the process of writing and coding two interactive stories. You can find out more on my development blog, @morpheusfiction.

I'm always looking for more writeblrs to follow and more new authors to read, so please interact with this post so I can check out your blog!

— find me elsewhere;

about // wips // instagram // twitter // spotify

— works in progress;

saltmate;

Sadie Nelson's summer is off to an awful start.

Her first year in high school has been a disaster, with failed classes and more detentions than she'd care to admit. With summer school the only thing to look forward to, she doesn't think it can get worse - until her parents sit down and tell her they're getting a divorce. The news comes as a devastating kind of relief. She can't wait for the fighting to come to an end, even if it means split holidays.

So when her parents send her off to her aunt's house in Newfoundland for the rest of the summer, she figures things can't get much worse. Her Aunt Claire is content to leave her alone while she works on her art, and Sadie spends most of her days by the seaside, wandering or drawing boats, and lost in thought.

When she finds a strange girl on an abandoned cove, far from town, Sadie is quick to try and make her first friend in St. Brenden's Bay. But her new friend is stranger than she realizes - and what does her Aunt have to do with her appearance?

empyrean eclipse;

Dr. Hazel Hartley-Pryce is what most people refer to as a genius. The leading cybioengineer in the paradisaical city of New Eden, she’s revolutionizing the very concept of prosthetics. At least, that’s her day job. Most of the time, she’s just Zelle Pryce, awkward and unknown heir of an oil empire trying to make up for her family’s myriad sins.

Lark Donaghue lost their arm and their memory in an accident five years ago — or, at least, they think it was an accident. Ever since, they’ve been doing their best to recover in both mind and body. As one of the recipients of the Hartley-Zimmer prosthesis, they spend most of their time in the labs having their new arm calibrated, or in physical therapy, getting used to having a left arm for the first time.

When they bump into each other in the hospital café, Zelle has no idea that Lark is one of her test subjects. Likewise, Lark doesn’t associate the cute young doctor he meets with Dr. H. Hartley, the mysterious billionaire scientist who invented their prosthesis. Each are determined to keep their past a secret, eager to have something normal in their lives.

But when Zelle is attacked, everything changes. The mystery behind Lark’s amnesia might finally be solved — but at what cost?

wrong witch;

born into a family of witches, morgan has never shown a drop of magical power - no matter how much his mothers insist he has the inherent potential. he’s ready to give up on magic altogether, when, on his seventeenth birthday, he wakes up covered in blood, having sleepwalked into the nearby woods. suddenly, he has more power than he knows what to do with, and all of his dreams are coming true - but at what cost?

and why?

gabriel graves is a warlock, having traded his eternal soul for magic. when his family moves from bustling new york city to a small town in the midwest, he’s taken from his circle of power — his true family — and left alone. the citizens of ashborough, mi, are perfectly normal, and perfectly boring.

except, of course, for the mysterious delacroix family.

morgan and gabriel’s lives collide in the ashborough woods, as morgan seeks to discover the source of his newfound powers, and gabriel searches for a place to call his own.

[gxilgramore]

INTRODUCING THE FRIDAY MUSIC RECOMMENDATIONS!

So how it's gonna work?

Basic really, every friday (if my adhd let me remember) i will recommend a set of tracks that i've been listening, the image you are seeing above you is my last.fm collage but not all songs will be from that collage, but it's there as a cover for the post and a showcase of the songs i'm not gonna mention but i still recommend.

Let's go then?

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST WITH ALL THE SONGS MENTIONED BELOW!

Will I See You Again? - Thee Sacred Souls

I discovered these guys recently while trying to sample them for a track i was doing, i took my a while to appreciate this song but now that i do i can't stop listening, that clean guitar with that gorgeous main melody, those open hats that give such a beautiful atmosphere, the incredibly catchy but mesmerizing chorus, the amazing vocal performance, holy shit this song is so fucking good in so many different levels, one of the better jams i found this year.

No Problems - Ginger Root

So fucking funky, christ, one of the most catchy songs released this year, if you like funky shit it's unmissable.

Is It a Crime - Sade

I'm getting into Sade and most of the stuff i heard from her is gorgeous, this is the best example, it sounds big, passionate, beautiful, music luxury, also sound sad and emotional, absolutely perfection from beginning to end.

Suffocate (feat. Poppy) - Knocked Loose

I'm not a metal guy, but the two Knocked loose songs i listened this year are so fucking brutal that made me interested in metalcore, the reggaeton breakdown at the end is so fucking unexpected but it goes so hard, holy shit.

Junho de 94 - Djonga

I'm brazillian, and the rap from our country sometimes can go toe to toe, and a lot of times even be better than the shit from the states, Djonga is a big example of why, this dude's flow and lyrical hability is unmatched, truly a special artist in our scene, how he guides a story of his own life in this autobiographical song is truly a thing of genius, and the confidence he has plenty, one of the best rappers that came out from this amazing country

Down Under - Man at Work

I wanted to also put Who Can It Be Now? here but I'll keep just to Down Under since Man at Work is already a popular new wave group, it's so dancy and catchy its really hard not to like, those songs made me want to go to australia.

The Argus - Ween

Those couple of weeks had been full of ween for me, not the way you're thinking, and this one has been one of my latest passions with the band, one of the most beautiful climaxes to any song ive have ever heard, still sad that the rest of the album didn't click for me.

No Hands - Joey Valence and Brae:

One of the most fun rap songs of the year, im seeing these guys since the PUNK TACTICS song on tiktok and they are truly amazing at being fun, No Hands is a bit more personal but it has such infectious energy and an amazing beat.

The Invisible Man - Maruja

Literally the best song that came out this year, holy shit, the incredible build up, tension heavy saxophone, the heavy vocal performance, the best climax maybe fucking ever? Ive been seeing this live performance they did on youtube and is truly a stuff of legend being more intense than in the studio version in a song that demands so much, truly amazing, keep your eyes on Maruja, these guys are gonna hit it big like Black Midi or Black Country, New Road.

I Got The... - Labi Siffre

Literally discovered this one today, the sample to My Name Is from Eminem that is bigger and way better, so many incredible parts coming to this amazing whole, could not recommend it enough.

One on One (feat. Headband Henny) - Micah Dailey-White

This funny guy of the TikTok released an amazing neo-soul, post-punk album with this amazing catchy song in it that i could not recommend enough, is charming, cute, catchy.

Ginkgo Biloba - Querida, Faça As Malas

Back to Brasil, this ska punk band is hella catchy, one of the best ska punk bands this country could ever offer, their lastest album is also really great.

Storge - samlrc

Still in Brazil but going post-rock is this amazing, layered, larger than life track from the trans artist that has been bubbling on the underground samlrc, again, keep you eye in her.

Saudade - ElevenWAV

We still on Brasil, but now going jazz fusion, Eleven is an amazing artist overall, but her recent projects have been proving how much she is evolving and how much she is gonna hit it big when the time comes, also one of the best trans artists coming out of this country.

Psiu - Liniker

YOURE GOING TO FUCKING BRAZIL! Liniker the best trans artist to come out of this country with her amazing fusions of MPB, Bossa, Jazz, Pagode, Neo-Soul, an amazing power house pf a voice, an undying passion, unmatched to all, literally the best ever, GO LISTEN.

Think we over? OH NO BABY!

miss you - Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra

Going to japan, I could gush about this group for years since I love ska and i love them, but i will only say this is one pf the most insane songs and music videos to come out of the country in years, you should absolutely listen to it.

All the Strange Creatures - Murray Gold

It would not be a Gxil post without your obrigatory Doctor Who mention, one of the most energizing and epic tracks in the modern series.

AND FINALLY

Canned Heat - Jamiroquai

One of the funkiest songs ever, im not gonna say anything more, needs to be experienced, go listen.

Spotify playlist with all the songs mentioned below:

And that's fucking it for today, it was a lot but ive been wanting to talk about music for months now, the next posts on this series are going to have less songs because of it but i don't care, you have any recommendations you want to make? I'd love to listen to, im pretty open to new music, so you can send anything you want, and also, what did you think of these songs? Already love them, tell me more id love to listen.

Follow me on my music socials:

LAST.FM

SPOTISTATS

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

[herbs-and-spices-and-flowers]

If Among Us had Ghosts 3

Elijah laughed to himself as he sat in a corner with a tablet downloading wifi with the lights off.

"Good thing I'm good at doing my tasks in the dark." he said with a chuckle. "I'm such a genius."

"Are you sure about that?" said a little voice next to him.

Elijah turned around and found a group of little pink ghosts looking at him.

Elijah got up and ran screaming. While the little ghosts chased him yelling,

"Dr. Phantom! We found a crewmate! We're chasing him in your direction!"

They kept chasing Elijah until they met Jocelyn who said hi to them. The little ghosts said hi back. Then stopped chasing Elijah to play with Jocelyn.

Meanwhile, Micah was looking for Jocelyn because she was his miniature crewmate. So it was his job to look after her. He later ran into Dr. Phantom and asked him,

"Hey, have you seen Jocelyn? She's a little girl with little pigtales, a mischievous laugh, we have the same outfit." He said while pointing at his dark green onesie which was the crewmate uniform.

"No. I can't say that I have. But no worries. you won't be here." And he began to chase Micah all over the place and was about to grab him until Charlie showed up and held him off, giving Micah enough time to escape.

I don't want this to be too long, so I'm skipping to the end. Dr. Phantom has already thrown out Shiloh and a meeting is called.

Charlie: "He's thrown out Shiloh! What are you guys going to do now?"

Dr. Phantom: "Did you not hear from Mission Operation Management? With Shiloh gone, Elijah is now the best player."

David: taking a breath "You know what? I know we can't vote him out, but I've had it with this guys! He's thrown out crewmates and imposters by now, I'm going to try and vote him out anyway!"

David, Elijah and Charlie all point at Dr. Phantom attempting to vote him out, and he just smiled and the meeting was done.

"Charlie, I need you to stay with David!" Elijah exclaimed.

"What? That would mean you would be left alone and he'll get you!"

"Trust him, Charlie." David exclaimed giving Charlie the "he knows what he's doing" expression. And Charlie understood immediately.

Elijah ran as fast as he could to the wires. Dr. Phantom followed right after him.

"What kind of idiot tries to throw out a ghost? And what kind of idiot does what you just did?" He said while lowering his tone.

"There's no hope for you, boy." he said in a more rasping voice.

"Well, that would be, if this wasn't my last task."

"What?" he reached out to throw him out, but then David came out and shouted,

"Hey ghost! Where did you get that lab coat? The cabbage factory?"

"Dr. Phantom sighed. "I have no time for you. You're just an imposter, I have no business throwing you out. I'll do it later."

"Oh, I know. I just needed to stall you. Like Shiloh tasked me to."

Elijah exclaimed "I'm done!" and Charlie walked right into the room.

"These kids are smarter than they look." she commented. "I guess Shiloh had a plan before she was thrown out."

"Or, she planned little bits of it and the whole thing just worked out." Commented Elijah.

"NOOOooooo!" Exclaimed Dr. Phantom who's shout faded as all the crewmates, imposters and Charlie and stood in front of the word in big letters,

"victory"

After all of that was the Shiloh and Bros success dance party. While everyone was getting excited, Charlie went up to Shiloh and asked,

"Do you guys do this all the time?"

"Yeah. It's how we celebrate our victories. The losing team gets to stay outside and argue with each other."

And then Jocelyn came into the room, turned around and waved,

"Bye. See you later, little ghosties."

"Jocelyn! Where were you?!" asked Micah who was getting really worried until then.

"I was playing with my new ghost friends."

"You befriended his little helpers?"

"Yep."

"Oh."

Meanwhile, Dr. Phantom was in a room looking around the place and thinking to himself,

"Wait. I'm a ghost. I can just go through these walls." Then he tried to, but ran into the wall. "What is going on here?"

Josiah opened the door and answered,

"These walls were built to keep bad guys inside. Even ghosts." then he closed the door to rejoin his friends who all jumped for the outro.

The end. Like my crossover?

Another one renewed.