#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

[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+)

[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!

[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

[greatyme]

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!!

[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.

[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."

[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

[cascadedkiwi]

Bedtime Story (A Real Book) [Comfortember 2023]

Characters: Micah Yujin x “Angel” Visual Novel/Game: Error 143 Genre: Comfort (more fluff, I’m feeling) Summary: Micah wants a bedtime story. Word Count: 420

Alternative Prompt 1: Books (Just one book.)

Micah crosses the room to where his Angel sits, scrolling listlessly on her phone. He frowns as he notices her lack of response to his presence. “I’ll take that.” He plucks the device from her hands, holding it behind his back.

“Micah!”

“Angel, you’ve been staring at that tiny screen for the past 27 minutes. I’m tired of waiting.” Her face scrunches in confusion. “Waiting for what?”

He motions to his outfit, an undershirt and long pajama pants. “You’re supposed to be reading me a bedtime story,” he pouts, puppy eyes glistening.

“Has your inner child completely hijacked that genius brain of yours?”

“If I say yes, will you read me a story?”

“Is it an actual bedtime story?”

He pulls out a novel from behind his back. “It has 37 chapters and is the first in a series of 11.”

“Micah Yujin.”

“You told me you want to spend less time on your phone AND get back into reading physical books so…” He gives her a hopeful look.

Curse him and his cute face. ‘No, actually bless him and his sweet efforts to help me when I lack the discipline to help myself.’ She reached her hand out. “What’s it about, anyway?”

Micah relinquishes the book with delight, depositing her phone on a shelf. “It’s a new adventure from this sci-fi author I really like,” he says, bending down to pet Skrunkly. The cat climbs onto his legs and Micah scoops him up, turning towards the bedroom. “There’s mystery and action and romance-”

“Can’t forget the romance, huh?” Angel chimes in, pushing up to follow them to Micah’s room. 

“Angel, you know me. I need the romance.” He plops down on the mattress, getting settled with Skrunkly nestled in his arms above the blanket.

She sits in the chair set next to his bed, leaning against the nightstand with the book directly under the lamp. “How many times have you read this story already?”

“Enough,” he replies simply. “My favourites in the series are Books 4 and 7 but I want you to get the full experience.”

“I appreciate the consideration.” She cracks open the book, skimming the preface and table of contents. “Be careful or I may get so sucked into the story I won’t notice when you fall asleep.”

“It’s fine, we can pick up wherever. I just wanna hear it in your pretty voice.”

Angel wills her cheeks not to heat up, clearing her throat as she finds her place in the novel. “Anyway… Chapter 1…”

[twsted-princess]

Inspired by @fumikomiyasaki........I got a dating sim au with all of Melanie's ships with @rookvonhunt

Raven College, a prestigious school that those from all walks of life attend to grow, learn, and become the person who wishes to be. It's a new semester and young students walk the campus grounds to explore their new surroundings. Melanie Charment is one such freshman who, admittedly got a little lost. She's not used to being away from home and especially in a place that's much larger then life. She's from a low-class family who scraped and saved to get her into college. Working hard is something she does naturally so of course she's going to study and learn and make her family proud. But college life.......is stressful when you don't know what you want to do with your life. And expensive. Very expensive. So she does the best possible thing to take up any and every job she can. She needs to survive school, juggle her hours, make friends, work her ass off and maybe.....just maybe, find her fairy-tale love.

💖 Part dating sim, part time management. You have to manage job hours and free time while making sure you can do your homework and showing up to class. Sure you can skip class and try to coast your way into getting a hottie but be prepare for an early bad ending. Ya gotta be smart. Gotta play your cards right. Doing your jobs and talking means friendships, which turns to attraction which turns to romance.

💖 You also need to build Mel up which means heading to classes and the library to study, that increases your wisdom. Doing afterschool events like cheer-leading and going to various spots in town (skate park, museum, model agency, etc) increases confidence. Lastly hanging out with your friends Kirsten, Lucille, James and Nala increases your charisma (as well as unlock side stories with certain s/o's if you hang with the right friend at the right time)

💖 In addition to all of the jobs you're doing, you're also making coin. You can then spend the money on gifts for your crushes to increase their affection. Of course they have favorites and least favorites so watch yourself. You can also spend money on your dorm room, making it ✨fancy✨.

💘~💘 Now onto the love interests💘~💘

Kierron - A sophomore who's known for getting into fights. He works out at the local gym where Mel works as a attendant, often treating her like a lackey. There's something about him, something he's trying to keep to himself.

Erza - Sophomore of Dawn Dove college, the rival to Night Raven. He's a genius and one of Brick's closest friend. Mel and him meet each other through her attempted least favorite job, being a receptionist at the local morgue.

Fraiser - One of the most popular boys in college and a bully. When Mel takes the job of apprentice mechanic to gain experience/variety they're made to get along. Tends to shift the work load onto her so he can hang with his biker gang.

Octavius - The eccentric and rather kooky son of the wealthy Siphon family. He attends the same school as Erza but he hires Melanie to be one of his maids. However he treats her like a close friend.

Micah - A seemingly holy man that's almost always at the church, earning the nickname of Mother. Melanie meets him when she works as a janitor. There's an air of serenity but few are willing to cross him.....

Vladimir - One of the boys in Mel's dormitory and someone she befriended early on. He runs a popular fashion blog that she offers helps via modeling. When the work gets too much for her he's always there to cheer her back up.

Miko - A mysterious man, who's dealings are made in the shadows and possibly in blood. When he wishes to unwind he frequents the luxurious Crescent Moon lounge and restaurant where Mel takes the job of bartender on night shifts. He's definitely someone you don't take to run into at night.

Kakia - A lady Mel slightly knows but they only know each other through Kierron. While looking at the work she thinks Mel is trying to steal Kie's attention even when that isn't the case at all. Thus starting a one-sideded rivalry.....or not?

Song Fenhua - Seemingly a friend of Kierron more it feels like a boss and underling. He works at the laboratory as an assistant for health research while she's a lab technician. He thinks she's way in over her head taking all these careers but leaves her be.

Emile - Another friend or underling of Kierron and he certainly doesn't get along with Song Fenhua. He takes a position in the morgue alongside Erza and they seem to get along swimmingly. Very quiet but is pleasant to be around.

A'rachk - A foreign student that speaks like he's part of a hivemind but he seems interesting. They meet with Melanie takes a job at the laboratory as a general assistant so she's paired with him for his entomologly. Just don't let him be around Kierron or else things will get messy.

Jupiter - Down to earth Bassist for the punk band Lockdown, after Mel was dragged to one of their concerts the frontman Alto hires her on the spot to be the band's planner and designer. He tends to hang out in town's more nature-y parts so she's bound to run into him.

Brick - A sweet boy, polite man who sees her around school. Him and Melanie are in similar classes and he works as a chef to a local sushi restaurant. She ends up as one of the waitresses.

Jirou - Another guy Mel befriended on campus, his family runs the local bakery and after a few visits she's hired to work as delivery girl and part time baker. He's extremely kind and tends to help her out with school work along with Brick.

Misha - Yet another boy Melanie knows from campus. A skater boi who does sell sports clothes but he forgets constantly. She sees him a lot at the gym but he ends up hiring her as one of his models...although he forgets to pay her sometimes.

Citron - The super sweet co-worker of the local plant nursery. She takes a job there and the two are fast friends. He's extremely thoughtful but his bleeding heart tend to get him into trouble.

Lucifer - A model Mel works with at the same agency that specializes in gothic looks. He's popular on Twitter and Insta but is kind of an ass. It's also known that he works in the adult industry though he doesn't seem to care about the bad rumors.

Maurice - A friend of Vladimir also running a popular fashion brand. Melanie becomes his muse and they start working together. He's a heartthrob around campus but he doesn't seem to mind the advances.

Dusk - A popular model that frequents the cute little cafe Mel baristas at. Him and Maurice and acquaintances in the fashion world. Tends to keep to himself but will make a sarcastic quip or two.

Solomon - Another bully on campus. He's a solo artist by the name of Corrosion, occasionally models along with Mel but they're more often to run into each other at the gym. They.......don't get along well.

Michi - One of the maids at the cafe Mel works very closely with. A sweet guy with monstrous strength able to probably lift the place itself but he's also fucking stupid. Overally a goody good boy.

Langley - Another sushi chef but he's more quiet and more..........odd. He's narcissistic, skittish and seems to really really love fire. He's a great cook but something's off, very odd.

Candice - The wealthy and seductive milf with his five year son Sylvian. He hires Melanie to babysit while he works in......adult situations. (he also owns a franchise of tattoo/body modification parlors) Currently in an on again, off again relationship with his husband.

Ruben - Candice's husband who runs a popular toy company but his marriage has been on the rocks. He's ready for divorce but only stays for sex and Sylvie. He's interested in Mel but a relationship now would be very messy.

Niko - Another one of the Mel's coworkers at the cafe, also a model that's "besties" with Lucifer. He's........not bright, possibly even dumber then Michi. But he's cute and loves cats so that's all that matters.

Arsene - One of the biggest name's in the rap/pop industry. Kirsten's a fan of him and somehow (blackmail) got vip tickets to see him. After the show Mel somehow got his phone number????

[stabberghost]

hi I am the anon that came up with "brightsmile" as the ship name for Micah and b. happy and I hope you know everytime someone uses the ship name I lose it /pos

Youre a genius thank you for my life bright smile creator because otherwise I bet we would've genuinely called them egotistical gays. Bright smile 4 tha win

[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.

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Cold as Ice - Chapter 29 - Part 1

*Warning - Adult Content*

Landon Reilly

Our game against Boston College on Saturday was not going well.

We had yet to put the puck in the net while BC had done it twice, one of the goals being Micah's.

Micah had really refined his skill since the last time I had seen him play.

He was faster and grittier, shining in a way I hadn't seen from him before.

I couldn't tell if that bettered or worsened my frustrations about the game, that he was shining while I was doing nothing for my team at that moment.

I wasn't scoring or making plays.

We were being beat in every sense.

Chris Rojas tried his hardest to encourage his team, as he always did but nothing was working or going our way.

It was a mercy when the game finally ended.

Our coaches were clearly pissed about the way the game went but they didn't say much.

They would give us hell on Monday, I was sure.

After showering and changing, I left the locker room where I was immediately faced with Micah's grinning face.

"Good game," he exclaimed, throwing his arms around me in a hug.

"Yeah, for you," I said, putting one arm around him and patting his back.

Micah pulled away and he was still grinning.

"You played great," he said because he was sickeningly kind and would lie to me as long as it made me feel good about myself.

The two of us made our way out of the rink and out to the parking lot.

I was planning on just taking him on the campus bus back to my dorm and grabbing some dinner.

"So what are your plans tonight?" Micah asked.

"Just going back to my dorm," I told him.

I knew Micah would be happy with anything we did.

He was an easy going, just happy to be there kind of guy.

We continued walking until we stopped at the sound of someone shouting my name.

I turned around, confused, to see it was Stella who was yelling with Jess, James and Wren following behind her.

Wren had his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly downward but he was looking up at me.

The slight breeze ruffled his hair a bit and his cheeks were rosy from the cold.

He looked so soft like that.

I wanted the two of us to be able to lock ourselves in my room and hide under my blankets, him holding me against his chest as I fell asleep.

It felt strange even allowing myself to want things like that.

I wasn't used to it.

It never seemed like it could be a possibility for me but there I was, imagining running off with Wren and wanting him to be close to me.

However, that didn't mean I wanted him and Micah to meet.

"Are these your friends?" Micah asked with a smile, gesturing toward the group.

"Sort of," I replied.

"Of course we're your friends," Stella exclaimed.

"God, Landon what's it going to take for you to call us your friends?" she said it in a joking way but I still blushed at her words, which caused Wren to grin at me.

"I'm Micah," Micah introduced kindly.

"I'm Landon's friend from home."

Stella introduced herself and the others, pointing to everyone in the group.

As she did so, something came to my mind.

"Were you guys at the game?" I asked when she was finished.

"Yup," Jess answered.

"Figured we'd watch while we waited for you so we could all go out after."

I glanced over at Wren.

His face was blank, giving away nothing.

He hated hockey and skating and everything that had to do with it but he came and watched me play one of the most embarrassing games of my life.

I put a hand on my forehead.

"You guys didn't have to do that," I said with a sigh, shaking my head slightly.

It wasn't like any of them knew much about hockey but it didn't take a genius to see that we lost, badly.

"It was fun," Stella said with a shrug.

"I kind of like it now and your school is a lot better than Brown anyway."

"You guys go to Brown?" Micah asked, confusion in his tone.

"They do," Jess said.

"I go to PC with Landon."

"We're going to the club, you guys coming or what?" James asked, clearly anxious to get going.

"That is, if your friend is cool with queer people."

Micah's eyes widened.

"Oh, yes, of course," he said.

"We were just going to go back to my room," I told them.

Jess and Stella booed at me while Wren shot me an intense, serious stare.

"Come with us," Wren said and if I didn't know any better, I would think he was pleading.

He held my stare for a moment before looking over at Micah.

In my head, he was jealous.

In reality, I didn't know if that was the case.

"We should go, Landon," Micah said, nudging me in the side.

"It'll be fun."

"They're going to a gay club, Micah," I told him quietly, gritting my teeth.

"So?"

I really didn't have an answer to that, so I sighed and nodded my head, causing the girls to let out squeals of excitement.

"Great, let's go," James urged and we all made our way to Wren's car.

"Back seat," Wren told James as he stood at the passenger's door.

"No," James whined.

"You want me to squeeze back there with all of them?"

Wren didn't even say anything.

He just looked at James, refusing to unlock the car until he moved toward the back door.

Eventually, James begrudgingly moved to the back and it took me a moment to realize that Wren had meant for me to sit in the front with him.

My cheeks heated in embarrassment as I opened the door and slid into the passenger's seat.

James sat behind me while Micah sat behind Wren, the two girls sitting squished in the middle of them and sharing a seatbelt at Wren's demand.

I was surprised Wren was even allowing there to be an extra person in his car.

I glanced at him as he started driving, his face blank.

His arm rested on the center console and his fingers tapped on the shifter. I wanted to lace my fingers with his but I couldn't.

I couldn't do it in front of the others, especially not Micah, so my hands stayed at my sides.

"Turn the music up, Wren," Stella exclaimed from the back and he complied.

It was some pop station, probably something James had put on when they drove to the rink earlier and definitely something I had never heard in his car before.