#Micah Toll

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Art dump 😵‍💫 Amos, Micah, Bill…

[mitamicah]

If there is one thing I hate more than having to pay toll for things it is being denied paying toll because the SMS they say they'd send me never arrives 🙃

[videlia]

☾⊹₊ ⋆ Micah when you're on your period ☾⊹₊ ⋆

Just wanted to write some head canons for when you're on your period about our lovable cah-cah, since I actually finished playing error143 yesterday and phew! It has become one of my many obsessions♡

Micah is the absolute sweetest when you're on your period! Not to say he's not sweet to you 24/7.

But he's probably more caring than he usually is.

And he's a dork.

He knows how cranky you get when you're on your period so he's definitely on the lookout!

Oooouu especially when you get cramps, this man will not let you do anything around the house.

Like anything at all!

C'mon now, this man is the Micah Yujin, and you're his angel, of course he wouldn't let you lift a damn muscle!

Anything you need? He's dashing straight into your bedroom, ready to heed your request.

Water? Got it. You're cold and freezing? He'll gently tuck you in a shit ton of blankets while embracing you into his arms.

Did I mention that he uses this opportunity to cuddle you all the time?

A jelly donut from the new donut shop that just opened recently? No need to speak another word, it's already being delivered as you speak!

Work to do? He's already sent an email to your boss, giving them a dumb but believable excuse.

Basically, he's perfect.

Yet he tries so hard to resist bringing you food that would worsen your cramps! But he won't back down even when you look at him with that cute puppy-eyed look!

He immediately notices when your cramps intensify, noting the way you're clutching your tummy a little too tightly and the way you're squirming in bed.

He's one hell of a perspective boyfriend after all.

But not to worry! He's already prepared a heating bag, placing it on your abdomen, also including some painkillers by the nightstand to soothe your ache.

Though your period does have a toll on your attitude, Micah definitely doesn't mind at all, even when you scare him with that small death glare of yours when he's a being a snarky jerk.

But he just wants to make you smile when you're hurting this much.

Micah is sooooooooo patient with you, it's damn adorable to you too!

This manchild just loves you too much to not shower you with love, even when you're on your period.

[odinsblog]

Micah Loewinger: In the first few weeks of the conflict, we heard of several instances of backlash against journalists who criticized the Israeli government or the IDF's actions. Government officials have also made threatening remarks against publications like Al Jazeera and Haaretz. What does retribution against journalists look like now?

Oren Persico: In the first few weeks, it meant that you really couldn't stand with a microphone in an Israeli city and report what's going on in Arabic. You would have been harassed and probably thrown out on the street. That happened several dozen times in the first few weeks.

The main two roles of TV journalism in Israel after October 7th was one to lift the morale of the army, lift the morale of the Israeli public. And the second is to not show anything damaging that's happening in Gaza because of the Israeli bombardment and invasion.

The logic here is that if you show civilians in Gaza getting hurt, then a lot of people in Israel will start questioning the legitimacy of the IDF attacks in Gaza. The result is that Israel is very much still on October 7th.

Micah: And I don't doubt that it would take any nation a long time to heal. I'm surprised though to hear that if you turn on Israeli TV, you would not see what we're seeing in the US media, which is brutal footage, a growing death toll and reports about starvation, disease. Are Israelis really not seeing that?

Oren: They do see soldiers collapsing buildings and cleaning out terror tunnels that were used by Hamas. They do see streets that are now rubble. What they don't see is humans in Gaza being killed or wounded, especially women and children.

They don't see that at all, nothing of the human cost. Even if you do mention the number of the casualties, you always say this is the numbers that we get from the Hamas controlled health ministry in Gaza and Hamas is a terrorist organization and you shouldn't trust their numbers. What they never mention is past conflicts in Gaza.

If you look at the numbers of Hamas and you look at the numbers of the IDF, they're roughly the same. There is a difference if you look at the male casualties, 16 to 50 or something like that, the age where you can be a militant. But if you look at the women and children, there's not such big a difference between the numbers that Hamas has and the number that the IDF releases after the war.

They just ignore that. And if you do see footage of shirtless men in Gaza, handcuffed, they would be regarded as terrorist surrendering. And that would be the headline.

Perhaps a day or two later, you could see maybe in Haaretz or in the bottom of an article that after interrogation, the IDF found out that most of them weren't terrorists. But most people would get the feeling that the only people still occupying northern Gaza where the invasion started are now terrorists. There's no citizens there.

And that's why you can bombard the area without hesitation.

Micah: Okay. But I see TikToks from Israeli soldiers. I see posts from Israelis on social media. Surely Israeli citizens are seeing footage of the suffering of Gazans. It's hard not to find it if you're online. So I find it hard to believe that maybe outside of the legacy media Israelis aren't exposed to this stuff.

Oren: Well, the power of denial is very strong. And if you don't want to know something, even though it pops out that TikTok or Telegram channel or whatever, it's very easy to go past it to a video of a fallen soldiers family or the Israeli victims. There's no lack of material that is pro-Israel and anti-Hamas. It's just a matter of your decision.

Micah: Ever since October 7th, you've said nearly all mainstream outlets have started to shift towards the right or at least have adopted more propaganda with channel 14, which is basically an arm of Netanyahu's propaganda machine, still being the most extremist. Can you give me some examples of this wider shift?

Oren: Right. If you look at the beginning of the war, you could see a lot of right-wing journalists saying, we should have bombarded the hell out of Gaza. It doesn't matter how many people would die.

So on October 7th, you could see the left-wing reporter calling for a genocide of Gaza, just like he was on the extreme right.

Shortly after, you could hear very similar voices in mainstream media, Channel 12, Channel 13. They started interviewing an expert on the Arab world called Eliyahu Yousian. He's an Iranian Jew who explained that in the Middle East, you have to act like you're in the Middle East.

And if that means killing 50, 000 people on the first day, regardless of who they are, that's how you should act because that would prove that you're serious about keeping your citizens alive. And then you could hear the same logic from Channel 13's head of the Arab Affairs Desk, Tzviya Khazkeli. What you saw, you had very extreme guests that you wouldn't see before on the mainstream media starting popping up on mainstream media, and also the journalists themselves getting more and more extreme, calling for harsh retaliation.

You could hear there is no innocent people in Gaza. Amit Segal, probably the most prominent journalist in Israel, he's the most popular journalist in Israel, he's the most popular journalist in Channel 12, which is the most popular channel in Israel, on his Telegram channel referred to the Hamas or Jihad terrorists as Nazis, and therefore the people who support them are also Nazis. And again and again you could hear the comparison to Dresden.

If you fight the Nazis, you have to fight like you're fighting the Nazis, and if the ally forces completely destroyed the city of Dresden, then we can completely destroy the city of Gaza, because it's 100% good against 100% evil.

It’s completely black and white.

Micah: It's not exactly like Dresden is celebrated today as a discriminant act of warfare, right?

Oren: No, it's exactly the opposite. This is the moment that there was no consideration of human life, much like Hiroshima and Nagasaki. That's mentioned also in Israel in the past few weeks.

Micah: Saying the Americans did it so we can do it too?

Oren: Yeah, I mean, who are you to cast doubt on our morality when you did the same, when you faced pure evil? That’s the logic.

Micah: You've made a strong case that Israelis don't understand what's taking place in Gaza, the damage that has been done by its militaries bombardment. Is there anything you think that American audiences don't understand about what's happening in Israel that you would like to communicate?

Oren: Well, basically that. Basically that the Israelis are inside a bubble and are unaware of, A, what's going on in Gaza, and B, how is it seen by the entire world. So when you speak with your Israeli friend or relative or whatever, you should remind yourself that you're speaking with someone who is in a parallel universe, who does not see what you see.

—Oren Persico, How Israeli TV News Sanitizes the Bombing of Gaza.

[verdemoun]

Who came to greet who when they warped? I can imagine Dutch thinking hes in the afterlife seeing Arthur and Hosea standing over him.

TIMEWARPERS IN (TIMEWARP) CANON ORDER:

bessie, annabelle, eliza, isaac, jenny, jake adler, mac, davey: none. no one had figured out timewarp notes: bessie found annabelle. hosea was the one to find eliza and isaac. lenny found jenny. jake found the gang (specifically arthur, kieran, sean and lenny). bessie found mac and davey but they were already in prison.

sean: bessie

lenny and hosea: bessie and sean

kieran: none, technically found by lenny and hosea a month after timewarping

arthur: hosea, bessie, sean, lenny, kieran

grimshaw: hosea, arthur

molly: grimshaw, bessie, arthur (they didn't find her, as she had already been found by random citizens. sean would later find her via social media)

karen: sean, lenny

micah: arthur, baseball bat

sadie: arthur, jake, kieran (accidentally. he was in the car and they forgot to drop him off on the way (terrified))

charles: just arthur for personal reasons.

abigail jr: arthur, sadie, charles, kieran, hosea, bessie, lenny, sean

javier: lenny, sean, arthur

bill: hosea and arthur

dutch: annabelle and kieran (kieran specifically was trusted to be able to execute dutch if he didn't agree to trying to change)

john and uncle: arthur, hosea, bessie, charles, abigail jr

abigail: john, arthur, charles, abigail jr, uncle, hosea

jack: john, abigail, abigail jr, arthur

in typing this out i realised arthur is a very busy boy. in timewarp, arthur is still very much an enforcer/protective older brother within the gang. with the 1911 gang, this also means being the shotgun if they aren't interested in changing their ways. the world has enough issues without bill williamson running around with a shotgun and something to prove. there's an obvious mental toll on arthur having to mentally prepare himself to kill one of his former friends in case. he couldn't bring himself to say confidently that he could have killed dutch if he needed to, hence kieran taking the title for dutch's pick up. but also he's very relieved everyone, even goddamned micah, is trying to live a new life in modern era and he hasn't actually had to.

[moonmeg]

What happens with Robyn after that ??

Girl how could you 😭😭😭

"You won't be able to hold up that attitude for very long, Robyn. Sooner or later that feisty and rebellious spirit of yours will break and you will make up for your father's mistakes and join this cause."

"Over my dead body." (spits in Philip's face)

"Hm." (wipes the spit away) "Familiar words from a familiar face. I'm only afraid you have no choice. It's only a matter of time, dear nephew."

////////////////

I would draw it but AGH I don't have the time

That's what happens. Robyn's spirit does eventually break after a long time of as much anarchy as he could manage until he doesn't have the energy to fight it anymore and he agrees to join Philip.

Nobody knows where Robyn or his mother are - they vanished. It takes an especially huge toll on the Bowers and Ahana. Micah most of all. They search up and down the Isles but to no avail. After years of searching Micah can't handle it anymore. Everything in Bonesborough reminds him of Robyn and it's too painful to bare. He moves away. Back to his birth town.

One night, years after the Clawthornes' diappearance, Breena is awakened by loud knocks at the front door. It's not even knocks anymore. Someone is banging their fists against the front door. She goes to open the door.

"BREENA! THEY'RE AFTER ME! LET ME IN, PLEASE! "

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Summary: Adlai and Celer finish their discussion, while something brews in the Old Ruins of Micah. If one can state that they are… actually in the Old Ruins. Meanwhile Solara is still in Clover, while she feels something that puts her even more on edge than what she already is

A/N: Hiya! I have taken another couple of months, because I don't want to miss anything crucial in canon. But. Here I am, delivering a little something and continuing down the same direction as planned. Hope you like it Length: ~4.0k Warnings: I continue on the same themes as previously, so I trust that if you've gotten this far, you'll handle where we are Tag list: @loosesodamarble @succulentsunrise

Chapter 8: Harp and tears

[“Where are you going?”] It was a fair question, asked after the meeting, in the room, with crystals that couldn’t be named by less knowledgeable men.

Celer, the oldest, and the only child of the House of Curiosi, gave Adlai, the one that was living and breathing Thea’s safety, a look.

But the look was about as informative as the silence, the empty hallway around them. Which is why Ad shook their head, and pushed his chin outwards a little as he did so, as if to try and fish out the information; hear the silence better.

However, the frown on Ad’s face, spoke of how little he understood the look.

To which Celer let out a soundless sigh. Not even a whisper. A flow of air. And placed their hands between them and Ad, palm side up for him to place his hands on top of theirs.

And he did.

Ler tapped. And tapped.

Two taps to the tip of their index finger.

[“Okay...”] Ad sighed. [“The ruins need tending, and I’ll... stay here.]”

Ler nodded. Just nodded. And let their palms lower down, so that the hands of the two people no longer met.

Someone needed to be there. In those ruins, to listen to the blasted ringing of the damned silver bells, the sound of which was nearly deafening to one’s ears.

Almost, but not quite.

After all, they had lived their entire life, listening to the bells.

It was only during the most recent years that the sound had grown so loud. So, soul shatteringly loud that it almost made one’s ears bleed. If one could hear them to begin with, that was.

A blessing and a curse, wrapped in one. Because while they could hear it, they couldn’t do anything about it.

Their hands could not touch the strings or the ropes. Even if their ears could hear the sound.

A lacking state of being that was exactly like that of mortals.

Limited.

But... the way the toll rang with silence, spoke to him. Told a tale of something brewing. Something... being about to happen.

They just didn’t know what it was, which is why they had to go there, to the old Ruins of Micah, and see for themselves.  

----

I wonder.... I wonder what that is... behind the surface. It’s blurry and too unclear to tell, but... there was something behind sister. There is something else in the room as well. But I just... don’t remember what it was. What it is. If it was there to begin with.

It must’ve.

Because the researchers of Old Micah made the room to be what it was.

This place was just an accident. An added bonus.

Or, well, an added bonus to me.

Lady Indomita says that it’s an anomaly. Something that shouldn’t be, and yet... here it is.

Not that she finds this place to be meaningful. Because it’s not as if... I can do anything else than observe here. Observe the way the threads, strings and ropes wind in their eternal dance. Mostly alone, and sometimes with... whatever that being is... but it’s nice to have company.

She placed her hand close to the surface of the mirror, the gate and the passage. Just let it hover there, without touching, and made the mirror vibrate, sent rippled course over it from the anticipation of someone going through after such a long time.

A fraction of an eternity.

I wonder... I wonder why this relic was created in the first place... and how the people of Micah came to have it....

She tipped her ring finger through the surface without effort. Which sent a wave of warmth over her. As if a whisper. A greeting. A friendly hello after being found.

The complete opposite of how she had felt, while entering the space in which she now existed.

This sensation... felt like home.

Like a home she wasn’t sure she could remember. Like one that she didn’t know how to feel about. And which, almost made her forget all the reasons why she had decided to walk away from the world, and shut herself here instead.

Because here there was no judgement. There was no wrong she could do.

After all, she was just an observer. Not a doer. Nothing was in her hands.

And yet, there she was. Centuries since then. By the door, the passage, and the mirror, about to go back into the world, which must’ve changed so very much during her absence.

But strangely enough, she wasn’t afraid.

A little apprehensive sure, but not quite afraid. Because this time she was... more curious about the world than she could remember ever feeling. After having sat on her thoughts and feelings for years. Thinking about what was her place in existence. What was her reason to be. And what should she do with it. What should she do with her life?

She didn’t have an answer.

But perhaps... perhaps it lied behind the surface of the liquid glass of the mirror.

‘Do or die’... isn’t that what they say? That there are different kinds of deaths and... how... if I stay, I know that nothing will change. Not for myself, nor for anyone else either. And... thought the threads would continue to twist and turn... maybe... maybe I could do something?

But there is no guarantee... that it’d be good. I could do damage. I could commit unspeakable horrors by not knowing what I’m doing.

Or then I could grant blessings that would fall second to only those granted by the heavens above. Heavens that must be empty...

I could do nothing at all, or then I could.... try to do something.

Which... I suppose is the question. Would I rather try to do good, or do nothing at all, and know, for certainty, that the good will not happen. Unless by some miracle.

Though miracles can be done by people too... depending on one’s definition of a miracle, of course, but... if I wish something to happen, I should at least try to do so.

Right?

...Right?

She took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

A single step. An embrace of warmth. A passing whisper that she couldn’t quite make out. After which she stood in a room.

And in that room, she saw with clarity the shape, the item, that had been in the background for as long as she could remember; and for as long as she could remember wondering what it was.

In the room, lied a harp.

----

Solara’s eyes scanned the area around.

The flames and the roar of Mereoleona.

Up in the sky, a distance away, there was another being with wings. Who seemed intent on attacking the Silvas. Against whom Noelle was battling.

Water against steel.

Until there was a flash of another kind of grey. Much more fluid and lighter in colour. Which assumed the shape of a man. Most likely Nozel.

The screams and the yells, coupled with the sounds of explosions ringing in the air, despite the battles won amidst the ongoing war.

I hope... Please... let them win. I’ll take any victory that would be given to u-

She winced. Leaned forward and curled around herself from the sudden spike of pain.

Did you two just kick mom again? She asked while trying to wobble closer to a nearby wall, so that she might lean onto it for support. Please... this is not the time. I know that you’re scared. I know. I know... she closed her eyes and pressed her back against the bricks, while feeling none of the cold due to the armour that was still around her. I know, she repeated within the depths of her mind. I am too... for your sake. And your father’s sake.

She glanced up, towards the scene where fire raged. Where the smell of burning flesh still lingered.

Where so many brave and valiant lives had been taken.

Salamander is still there... the largest form of those that were left. Which means that he must be too... she reasoned to herself while feeling that the world, or at least hers, was still somewhat in tact.

A feeling, a sensation, that she couldn’t quite explain. It just didn’t make any sense. Not while on such a field of battle. Amidst all the chaos and the screams. She shouldn’t have felt the kind of whisper, a lingering sliver of hope.

It must’ve been insanity.

But... in a place that is filled with despair, isn’t the nearly non-existent trace of hope the very thing that keeps people going? Because they simply have to believe that something good will follow. That something... if not them, then those they care about, will survive and prevail. Is that not the reason to keep going?

The feeling? No matter how unlikely and unreasonable? Because sometimes one has to defy reason, and have fate instead. That things will turn for the better.

Or then it was the feeling, the quiet reassurance that she felt in her very soul, told to her by the strings of fate that were still golden instead of stained with carmine. That the steady pulse, as if a squeeze in her hand, and a whisper in her heart, was still alive and radiant, rather than smeared by the very thing that flowed through their veins, keeping them alive.

He had to be alive.

He had to.

Simply had to.

She didn’t care if it might’ve been just a fable in which she wanted to believe due to the feeling. Because of the things she could see.

It just had to be true.

It’ll be alright, little ones... it’ll be-

“Ugh-“ she placed her hand onto her stomach and winced again.

Please don’t... oh no... little ones... please tell me that you are kicking me and not... her eyes opened and gaze flickered around without seeing anything around her. It was as if her eyes were trying to follow ideas bouncing around in her head, but did so with a faint sense of terror. Please don’t tell me that you didn’t choose this moment... she whispered within the confines of her own mind. Practically prayed to whatever non-existent being that might be able to hear her. When we said that we can’t wait to meet you, we meant it. We, from the bottom of our hearts, meant it, but.... Darlings... this is not the time.

She took a deep breath. As deep as she could, and tried to calm herself down. Let the burning pain subside, even if with one second at a time.

This is not... the time... Okay... Okay... calm down. Calm down... You know about this. Yes. You know this... If-, *if* this is it, then the contractions will take a long while. There are women who are admitted into the hospital, and spend the next day or two in this stage. So, it’s not like the kids are coming out right now. Yeah. So, there’s... well there is a lot of things to worry about, and staying here while in heavy labour is ... not ideal. By any means. It’s less than less ideal. But I have time to get ... somewhere else.

She took steady breaths while leaning against the wall, and kept her eyes closed for as long of a moment as she dared while trying to shut out her mana output. Make herself seem as difficult to notice as possible.

So... calm down. Calm down... you have time. So... for now, just focus on making yourself seem like as little of a threat as possible. No grand source of mana. No threat. Or at least as small of a threat as possible. And just... figure out where to go. The portal here I can’t use. The same applies to the one in the dungeon. Or... I could, but opening it would take a long, long while. Though I do have time.

She hesitated for a moment.

I hope... I should, have time.

Her eyes opened, and her head turned towards the direction where she knew home, the Vermillion estate to be.

Home is... too obvious. And will probably be burned down, if this goes on for long enough. The same applies to the castle, and the Crimson Lion Kings’ headquarters. So, while I would be able to make myself seem as harmless as possible, and to possess as little mana as possible, those places themselves can be targets.

Which meant that going to the places where she felt most at home, the most comfortable, was not an option.

But also... she glanced back towards the wall, where she knew her husband to be. Should I just... leave? Without... but how would I tell him? I can’t exactly reach out to him and... he did... throw away his-, no. That doesn’t mean anything. She brought her hand onto the charm around her neck; the other half of which she knew to be around his neck. He was... terrified.

She thought back to the moment. Just a few minutes prior. Tens of minutes. But minutes that had seemed far longer than that.

He was... scared...

The expression he had held. The angry. Horrified. Pale expression on his face. And the way he had grabbed onto the ring that had allowed for her to come to him, and tossed it onto the cobble stones under her feet.

He... was... He sent us away from... all this. Which is why he... it was fear. I must’ve been. Not anger at... me... Or maybe me too, but I just... she looked towards the direction again, but only briefly; as if she no longer had the strength to look for any longer.

So if I just disappear, after he has come to know that I *am* here, then he’d... I don’t know what he’d do... Because the reason why he stayed was because he... He is a dutiful man and he wanted to give us time to... If the world is going to end because of this, then at least he could make it more... difficult for the enemy and... I just...

She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to fight off the tears that kept collecting behind her eyes. The grief and the fear that took on the form of burning hot tears; almost as if corroding, that seemed intent on rolling down her cheeks and falling onto the same cobble stones of the Kingdom of Clover, that had played a tune, as if a melody, with the piece of precious metal of Fuegoleon’s wedding band when it had been cast away.

The ocean of pain and grief that twisted and turned within her.

I just can’t... What am I supposed to do? Because... if I do tell him? When? Would it place him in more danger? When would it place me and our children in... not as much more danger? Or do I just go, and let him believe that we’ve disappeared. In which case he’d presume that we’ve died and then he’d... He would...

Her lips quivered, and a whimper escaped from her throat. Because the thought that was at the edge of her consciousness, she didn’t dare let in. She didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to even consider it.

While knowing that she had to, if she was going to make this decision.

I don’t know what he’d do... she thought as the sob, the muffled cry that she had tried to swallow, broke through the air.

She hunched forward, almost as if it had been her body in pain, rather than her soul. But in reality, it was both. Because she could feel the pain in her body too. And not just in the way she was biting down her molars to the point where, had she managed to give it a conscious thought, she would have feared to be breaking her own teeth.

But a thought came through. A faint whisper.

My CCE... I still have it and he... He must have his as well. So... if he only looks at it.... That would be enough, right? It would be enough? So, if I go, and try to open the portal in the dungeon, to go back to Thea, then... he’d know...

She wasn’t quite delusional enough to trust that he’d feel the lingering sense of hope, which she felt, of him being alive through it all. Because her state of deliria was aided by the fact that she could see Salamander, if nothing else. That she could get glimpses, passing whispers of his mana around. Which confirmed her bias; the wish to believe in him being alive.

There was another spike of pain through her, which made her curl around herself, even if only a little.

That ... should be enough... Yes... it should be enough and then he wouldn’t... need to worry, as much, I think, because... even if ... If the worst would happen, the depths of that forgotten dungeon, previously a research facility, isn’t the most sensible place to look for. For anyone. At least an individual and... while our children are royalty, and royalty of this country, they’re not... there is no reason to pursue them to the extent.  

She had to believe in the thought. In the idea that it made sense. That leaving royalty of a country one was taking over, alive, was okay. Because it wasn’t just Clover being an intended target of being overthrown.

It was the world.

So now I... I need to think of our children. And he’d...

She swallowed while straightening her back.

We promised to each other. To always put our children first.

The bitter taste on her tongue still lingered.

We promised. And... if I’m going to... keep a promise then I need to... This would be it, right? If nothing else, and if I can manage to leave then... I should...

She tried to reason with herself while swallowing again. But still the bitter taste of the thoughts refused to go down. And she had a feeling that it wouldn’t be becoming any easier any time soon. Rather, she thought it would become even more nauseating.

Right?

She asked herself.

Right...? I should try to... leave... right?

----

I should check on Lara... just in case... Adlai thought while walking out of the Curiosi estate. I know that she needs time and space to grieve, while... preparing herself for labour. Though the due date isn’t for quite some time now. Not that they didn’t say that the kids couldn’t be born prematurely. Especially because it’s twins. But still... I like to think that she can... focus on one thing at a time, rather than having to go into labour during the same day as her husband is supposedly killed.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked with a slouched posture. Because... while he felt it necessary to go see his friend, he didn’t know how on earth he could do so while holding his head up high.

I know that she’s... upset that we’re not helping them, but... it’s their king. The leader of their military. Against their own country. It’s nothing short of a civil war. As absurd as it might seem. Because it’s... from my understanding, essentially one man against an army. He grimaced while setting off into the air, and towards the Equinox estate. Though he can always recruit mercenaries. Which isn’t... against the law. Technically speaking. But since the perpetrator is still, the enemy of the state, is the leader of said estate, or at least one of them, we have no right to intervene as a foreign country.

He had had to remind himself of the fact time and time again. Because... while he was an official, nobility, and a head of security, or would be in some years, he was also a friend and a man. Which also meant that he wasn’t heartless.

And... sending one or two... if those individuals so wished, wouldn’t really make a difference. If anything, it’d be one or two losses from our strengths, which, should the war eventually escalate here. If the king is successful in Clover and begins invading other countries that is. Should the war then come here, we’d need all man power we can get.

His eyes stayed down, as he tried to reason with himself.

In many ways, it’s the same situation as it was before, with the devils. Only that devils don’t know, or care, about the borders between countries. While people, more often than not, do. So... in this instance, laying low and caring for our own, makes sense. Not interfering with the internal matters of another state, makes sense. And he... always has a choice to become a refugee...

There was a bitter taste to the thought. Not because he would have, particularly, minded about Fuegoleon coming to stay in Thea permanently, but because the status in itself was, to anyone, a sorrowful one.

He is a good man and... He could do good here too. But... he doesn’t want to leave, and I get that. He doesn’t want to turn his back to his people, which I respect.

His chin lifted, even if only slightly, as his destination came into sight.

She picked a good one, the thought was bitter. Even more so than the one before. It just... seems that it wasn’t meant to be. At least for the long run.

He set down, and began walking into the building.

I just... what do I even say...? ‘How are you?’ Well obviously she’s doing bad because of all of this. ‘Would she like to talk?’ Probably not, because how does one even begin talking about something like this? ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ While nearing the due date? Short walks, sure, but a longer one no. Unless mandatory, but... where would she need to go now? And I don’t think she’d even want to. For more reasons than that.

He was let in, and asked if he could go see her. Which he was allowed to do. Only that her whereabouts weren’t known. Just that she had last been seen heading out.

To which he thanked, and sighed.

I don’t like doing this... he thought to himself, while whipping out his CCE. But as long as she has her CCE with her, which most of the time she does, like everyone else, I can track her.

His fingers tapped onto the screen with hesitation, despite him having the best intentions in mind.

I just... don’t think she should be alone too much. Not at the moment...

He let the device run its search, but in the end, the result that showed on the screen, made Ad frown.

Out of reach... Does that... Is it turned off? Or is she under ground? Maybe at the castle...? He turned to look towards the direction of the castle, the white marble towers of which still reached towards the skies. Just as he could remember them always having been.

I could... run the more advanced search... he thought. I do need to write a report about it though, but... I think it’s alright... considering the situation... he pondered, knowing fully well that this search would reach down to the lower levels of the castle as well; into places that were off limits for most of the time. Not the highest grade of device search, but close to it. And the highest grade that he could personally conduct.

Alone at least.

So, he chose the other option, and began waiting.

And he waited. And waited. And waited...

Can’t this bloody countdown go any faster? He slightly cursed in his mind as the numbers flashed on the screen, little by little getting closer to completion.

And as they did, another frown settled onto his face.

One that made cold chills run down his spine, because... from what he knew, all portals had been shut down today. No one was to go in, or out. And he hadn’t gotten an alert of any unlawful, unexpected travels from, or to, Thea.

But still, the device in his hand, was adamant of the location.

Solara was in Clover Kingdom.

[jay-avian]

Writeblr Intro

Hey there everyone! My name is Jay Avian, and I am a young writer hoping to share my works, get some feedback, and meet fellow writers.

About Me

I go by she/her. I'm a Christian who loves reading fantasy, folklore, and poetry. I like watching YouTube mainly now (Mithzan and YourPalRoss being my top two). I write my own poetry, which I'll post on here from time to time. You can find where I post my poetry here! I also like riddles, so if anyone wants to trade some back and forth, please feel free to message!

I am currently open to editing commissions! You can find the details here or you can DM me any questions you may have.

My WIPs

I have far too many projects at the moment. From short stories to novels to possible blogs, I'm currently writing in a few different genres. I mainly stick to fantasy but I like to venture out. Here are some of the main projects I'm passionate about.

Feel free to ask me any questions about my projects. I'd be more than happy to answer them! Can't wait to show you what I have in store!

The Court Magician (fantasy, action)

The great sage Josiah passed away and the kingdom of Stellaris needs a new court magician. Micah Cyprus, a studying wizard in druidic magic, is volunteered for the position by his mentor unwillingly. Things are very slow going working for the king and his menial requests. The worst part is he is to remain on castle grounds and attend to his majesty. But when Micah looks through the sage's notes, he discovers a secret threat to the kingdom. Can he protect Stellaris while being chained to it?

Morgensturm (fantasy, action)

Harelan was an eager young dragonborn who wanted to explore the world. When sneaking away on a trading ship, the crew gets attacked by the infamous Captain Caspian Barrack. In a deal gone wrong, Harelan finds himself a part of the pirate's crew. The duo go on many adventures together and get themselves into more trouble than they can handle. Some people will do what they can to tame fate, determined to conquer and be in control. But what will they do when they fall in high water with hopes to go past without paying the toll?

Fantasy Tea WIP (slice-of-life)

A prohibition has been inacted on potions in the kingdom, forcing Krig Petalwort, a goblin alchemist, to close his shop. Meanwhile, Nedwyn Amberwood, an eager halfling entrepenuer, wants to open up a new tea house in town. She takes over the potion shop while the alchemist helps out around the shop garden. Later on, they discovers that their tea can give minor potion effects. Suddenly, their business is booming with customers and needy adventurers. Follow their stories as they try to maintain a low profile as a well-to-do cafe.

Fight Club Isekai WIP (action)

Starving artist Skylar has been struggling to make ends meet, using the arts (both martial and otherwise) to express herself. But when she tries to skip town in order to find some sort of escape, she finds herself in a new world entirely. This world is almost like her own except with one main difference... People do battle with magic cards? Rather than trouble herself with the bigger, world-renowned tournaments, she tries her luck to make easy money with the underground fight clubs instead. With the help of her new "friend" Kody, how far will she get? And more importantly, will she find a way home?

Kingdom Hearts Fanfic (action, fantasy?)

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

I'm kinda debating putting a RDR2 crossover out there, but I don't know if this is something that only works in the recesses of my brain or actually workable... it would defiantly be crack like no tomorrow and would not include the bots. Maybe? still figuring out details.

ehm, an actual fic would be a long ways off and I've been working on this sparingly on the side (OUAT and the next OT&T is actively being worked on, exam madness is over so I want to release one of them before Monday!) but I'm just kinda interested so see if there would be any interest in some gunslinger hijinks.

Soooooo

Ashlyn, Jack, Miko, and Raf are all transported to RDR2 via mission gone wrong/weird cave drawings/MC luck

Ashlyn figures out what happened pretty quickly (she should be getting a universe hoping punch card at this rate)

She does not realize that she isn't alone.

Cue one Ms Moore galavanting around the RDR map while the Kids stick around the Vander Linde gang and are Very Confused.

The Kids experience includes;

Jack being renamed "Big Jack" since Jack Marston complains that it's HIS name. Jack is just having a moment. He's pretty sure he was found and rescued by a cult.

Jack joins Charles on a hunting mission, only to find the previously missing Miko impersonating a bush and doing a surprisingly decent job seeking up on the deer. Miko goes on to join the gang with Jack. She keeps trying to sneak into robberies. Hosea always catches her, and she emerges from very comical locations.

Raf initially panics. Then finds himself at a poker table at a train station. Luck is is only a game of statistics and Raf knows numbers. Becomes the Poker King, the nervous face IS his poker face. Overtime he learns everbodies business. Nice side effect of being the only sober gambler in the state. And the youngest. Via this, he turns up at the camp one day. Swanson's like *surprised pikachu face* He hears rumors about a strange cryptid running around and is like "Yeah that checks out. It's Ashlyn."

Meanwhile Ashlyn Moore is;

Roaming the wilderness treasure hunting and gives Downes's house a gold bar. Just pops up in every other town doing side quests. Stories start spreading about the wild thing looking for the Hooch man.

Eventially captured by O'Driscolls. Probably for insulting their vests, refusing to pay a bridge toll, or making some very interesting insults about not being able to rob a potato. That camp doesn’t exist anymore.

At some point, Micah and Ashlyn meet- or fight as a first meeting. She bites. He was not expecting this. Says she must have rabies, this incurred further wrath. Ashlyn is brought to the camp by Micah, saying she’s an O'Driscoll (kids are absent for the time). The girl proceeds to call out every manipulative sentence and asks for a step-by-step torture breakdown.  Poor Kieran is getting flashbacks whenever she brings up gelding. Begins to creep everyone out when she keeps moving in the night. Still tied to a tree, but it’s a different tree.  Mentions scary camping statistics (how many bugs crawl into the ear). The hotel gains a lot of business suddenly.

Ashlyn finally meets Dutch and the look in her eyes makes the kids panic. Spiderman meme is done when Ashlyn realizes others also came with her.

Ashlyn plays poker. She does not know how to play poker, but she keeps winning. Everyone is convinced she’s either cheating or a poker master while Raf is calculating how some of these moves are possible. Arthur finds this hilarious when she asks what the discs mean. Micah’s brain stops working.

Pulls The Batman references via el rata, Javier loses his mind about the incorrect Spanish. So does Raf. Bonding ensures via trying to keep Ashlyn’s mouth shut.

At a certain point, Ashlyn would make eye contact with Dutch while dropping a gold bar in the donation box. Bonus points if he's in the middle of a moneh rant.

"Who'd ya rob for that, missy?"

"A police station."

She's not telling him its the burned out one down the road.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Art dump because.

1,2,3: Doodles of Mabel, Amos’s wife and the protag of For Whom The Church Bells Toll.

4: goat Micah and Amos doodles

5: Midwestern Murder Micah AU

[cptg00s3]

Tale of tragic love

Here I am again, finally done with school, so I decided to treat you with a fanfic again. Same things go for everyone of my fanfics

she/her, she/they any female aligning person dni. My blog is strictly for male and gn readers. I've already had to block way to many of you.

Now, for the trigger warnings: cannon typical violence, death of reader, heavy angst and obviously my writing skills. If I missed any just comment and I'll add it.

Nowww go and enjoy

The sun casts a warm, golden glow over the vast plains of New Hanover as Arthur Morgan and I ride side by side, our horses gracefully navigating the rugged terrain. The weight of our journey rests heavily on my shoulders, for I carry a secret that threatens to shatter our fragile existence.

Arthur's face, etched with lines of worry and exhaustion, mirrors the toll our tumultuous lives have taken. The world we inhabit is filled with danger and uncertainty, but in each other's arms, we've found solace and love. Little does he know that my time is running out, that the illness ravaging my body will soon claim my life.

We press on, driven by a desperate hope for redemption and freedom. Every step closer to our destination fills me with a mix of determination and dread. Coughs wrack my weakened frame, each one a painful reminder of the inevitable fate that looms over us.

Arthur's presence is both a comfort and a source of torment. He fights relentlessly to protect me, unaware that it is I who am slipping away. I long to share my burden with him, to spare him the pain of my impending departure, but the fear of breaking his heart keeps my secret locked deep within.

As we navigate the trials and tribulations of our journey, Arthur's loyalty shines through, his unwavering dedication evident in his every action. He stands up against injustice, offering aid to the downtrodden and fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. I watch him, filled with love and admiration, knowing that my time with him grows shorter with each passing day.

The climactic battle against the malevolent Micah Bell draws near, our lives intertwined with the fate of countless others. Arthur's strength and resilience shine through, his gun blazing with purpose. I fight by his side, my actions driven by the desire to protect him, to cherish every moment we have left.

As the battle reaches its crescendo, the disease within me tightens its grip. Each breath becomes a struggle, and I stumble, collapsing to the ground. Arthur rushes to my side, his voice filled with concern and fear. He cradles me in his arms, his touch a bittersweet reminder of the love we share.

Gasping for breath, I must find the courage to tell him the truth, to release the burden that has weighed me down. Tears fill my eyes as I gaze into his worried gaze, his love and devotion etched deeply into every line on his face.

"Arthur," I manage to whisper, my voice weak but filled with determination. "There's something... something I need to tell you."

His eyes widen with concern, his grip on me tightening. "What is it, [M/n]? You can tell me anything."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I reach for his hand, intertwining our fingers. "I... I have an illness, Arthur. It's eating away at me, consuming my body from within. My time... our time together is limited."

Arthur's breath catches in his throat, his eyes filling with disbelief and anguish. "No, [M/n], you can't be serious. We'll find a way, we'll fight it together."

I squeeze his hand, my heart aching at his hopeful words. "I wish it were that simple, Arthur. But the truth is, I don't have much time left. I wanted... I needed to tell you, so you could prepare for what's to come."

Tears stream down his weathered face as he shakes his head in denial. "I won't accept it, [M/n]. We'll find a cure, we'll do whatever it takes."

I cup his face in my trembling hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Arthur, my love, you must understand. There is no cure. I've made peace with my fate, and you must too. Promise me, promise that you'll keep fighting, that you'll keep living."

His voice breaks as he clings to me desperately. "I can't lose you, [M/n]. You're everything to me."

I press my forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his tears against my skin. "You won't lose me, Arthur. I'll be with you, even when I'm gone. Our love will endure."

As the weight of our impending separation sinks in, we hold each other tightly, our bodies trembling with grief. Time slows, the chaos of battle fading into the background, leaving only our shared love and the pain of what is to come.

In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the embrace of our love, I close my eyes, savoring the feel of Arthur's arms around me. I whisper words of love and reassurance, my voice barely audible amidst the sounds of battle. We remain locked in each other's embrace, cherishing our final moments together, the world around us fading into darkness.

And in the quiet stillness that follows, I let go, surrendering to the unknown. Arthur's anguished cries echo in my ears, his grief a testament to the depth of our connection.

In the years that follow, I exist as a whisper in the wind, watching over him from beyond the realm of the living. I witness his continued fight for justice, his unwavering devotion to our shared ideals. I see him carry the weight of our love, his actions driven by the memory of what we had.

For Arthur Morgan, I am but a memory, a love that defies the boundaries of time and space. And as the sun sets on the plains of New Hanover, I watch over him, my ethereal presence a guiding light in his darkest hours, a reminder of the love we shared and the sacrifices we made.

[alicevanderlinde]

Echos of Love: Pt2

TW: Blood, Gore, Self Harm, mentions of death and starvation, Unwanted Affection, If you're easily triggered by any of those topics above, I highly suggest you don't read this.

Additional tags: Angst, Love, Emotional, Dark, Tragedy, Hurt, Pain, Pregnancy, There's more but I'm dumb af.

Author's note: I apologize in advance if this is trash and all over the place but oh well. Like it or don't I tried. Also I stopped deleting the extra spaces between each piece cause my phone hates me rn.

Word count: 9000ish

Alright cowpokes, grab your yeehaw juice and let's get into this!

During the first two arduous weeks of Alice's recovery, she found herself facing a unique set of challenges. Her determination to be self-sufficient clashed with the constant presence of caring individuals who incessantly offered their assistance. Susan would delicately braid her hair just the way she liked it, Dutch engulfed her with affection, Jack delighted in weaving flowers into her locks, the girls diligently mended her clothes, Abigail shared both helpful advice and worrisome thoughts about her growing baby bump, Pearson ensured she never missed a meal, Lenny happily read her favorite books, and Charles made a point to bring her flowers from his hunts as per Arthur's request. Miraculously, even Micah managed to ease up on being a nuisance. However, Arthur struggled more than Alice did, fiercely determined to prevent her from doing anything on her own.

While Alice deeply appreciated the unwavering support from everyone in camp, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Before this happened, Alice couldn't bear to spend more than a few days in camp. Now, she was going stir-crazy from being confined and treated like a child.

She remained unwaveringly insistent that she could handle things independently but also recognized that it would take time to fully recover. She wished that everyone could understand her perspective and grant her the space she craved.

It's almost as if she's still bound like she can feel the weight of the shackles around her wrist from everyone's doting attention.

Lying in their shared tent, Alice gazed up at the makeshift cloth roof, enveloped in the stillness of the night. The sounds of crickets, owls, distant yelps of coyotes, haunting wolf howls, and the gentle snores of Arthur were the only noises disrupting the tranquility of the gang.

Arthur's arm draped lovingly over her swollen belly, he had fallen asleep while tenderly rubbing small circles on her abdomen—a new habit he had developed since they began sharing a cot again.

He would always hold her close, their fingers intertwining as they lovingly discussed their aspirations and dreams of a life beyond the reach of the gang. The gentle tickle of his five o'clock shadow against the soft skin below her ear would make her giggle with delight, an affectionate gesture that she adored. However, the absence of her arm now compelled him to substitute the loss with comforting rubs on her belly. The realization of how much she had taken her arm for granted struck her deeply after it was severed from her body.

With a soft sigh, she carefully extracted herself from under Arthur's arm, determined not to disturb his much-needed sleep. His weary appearance upon her awakening from the coma had been a stark reminder of the toll this ordeal had taken on him. Despite his frequent jolts of wakefulness whenever she stirred, the past few days had granted him the rest he so deserved.

Quietly and skillfully maneuvering his arm, she swung her legs over the edge of the cot and focused her gaze on the darkness encompassing the tent. Rising to her feet, she took a moment to stretch, feeling the pulsating ache of every wound she had sustained. Initially, this discomfort would bring tears to her eyes, but with time, her body had adapted and grown accustomed to the aftermath.

With light, nearly silent footsteps, she slips out of the comforting warmth of the tent, instantly greeted by a biting gust of night air. Uncle lies sprawled beside the flickering fire, completely unconscious. The mere sight of the flames flickering brings a rush of memories she'd rather forget - the searing pain and the acrid scent of her flesh being cauterized. She cannot bear to be near a fire anymore.

Her instincts lead her towards the area where the horses are tethered. The desire to climb onto Artemis and gallop away tugs at her, but the reality sets in. Riding a horse with only one hand would be an immense challenge. The memory, although hazy, lingers on how difficult it was to maintain control with her limited grip.

Gently, her fingers trail along the smooth, well-groomed coat of Artemis, an indication of Kieran's dedicated care. The horse responds, leaning into her touch and nuzzling against her body. It's as if Artemis, too, yearns for the thrill of adventure.

"I understand, my sweet girl." She whispers affectionately, pressing a tender kiss upon the mare's snout. Filled with a mix of hesitation and determination, Alice unhitches the reins, struggling slightly with the task but managing to free them eventually. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, feeling the cool air fill her lungs as she places her bare foot into the stirrup. Grasping tightly with her remaining arm and relying on her upper body strength, she pulls herself up onto the horse, embracing the uncertainty that lies ahead.

Secure in the saddle, she gently pulls back on the reins, testing Artemis's response. The loyal mare complies with her owner's guidance, gracefully backing up and smoothly turning as Alice directs her to the left. It's an unfamiliar change in direction for both of them, but they adapt, embarking on a leisurely trot along the path that leads away from camp.

Deep down, she knows she shouldn't venture out without a weapon or proper attire. However, the urgency to avoid alerting Arthur, who would surely awaken if she took the time to change out of her chemise, outweighs her concern. Besides, she's only planning to practice riding down the road, not putting herself in immediate danger. She convinces herself that minimal precautions will suffice.

"Alright, girl, let's go." Alice declares, gently urging Artemis forward with a well-placed dig of her heel into the mare's side. In an instant, they burst into a full gallop, the wind caressing her soft skin and carrying stray strands of her hair. As they race along, she breathes deeply, savoring every ounce of freedom she feels, relishing the liberation like never before.

However, as the inhalation fills her lungs, she detects a distinct change in the surrounding scents. The unmistakable odor of copper and charred flesh taints the air. Her heart plummets into her stomach, instinctively pulls back on the reins to flee, only to realize the cruel twist of fate—the reins are now mercilessly wound tightly around her wrist. Her eyes snap open in sheer horror, revealing not only the unsettling smells but also an entirely different and unfamiliar landscape looming before her.

"I never thought you would've made it, sweetheart." Colm's vile voice oozes as his fingers trail over her belly with a twisted sense of affection.

"NO...NO...NO!" She screams, desperately trying to wrench free from what she thought were leather reins, only to discover the cruel reality that the restraints are the same shackles that have held her captive before, now accompanied by additional shackles on her ankles, compensating for the loss of her arm.

The sound of Colm's sadistic laughter twists her stomach into painful knots, fueling her wild thrashing. With each desperate struggle, the unforgiving metal digs deeper into her flesh, a bitter reminder of past torments that haunt her. The searing pain becomes unbearable as her skin reopens, the agony intensifying instead of subsiding.

Every ounce of her being screams in terror as the realization dawns upon her—the refuge her mind created to withstand the horrors she endured had deceived her. The touches she savored were not Arthur's, but rather Colm's deranged perversions.

"Careful now, sweetheart. Don't want to strain yourself it ain't good for the baby." Colm menacingly taunts, his words dripping with sadistic satisfaction.

"This ain't real! I escaped!" She repeats to herself, desperately hoping to transport herself away from this nightmarish hell.

"Oh, it's all too real, sweetheart. You put up quite the fight and killed a few of my boys in the process. But, fortunately, you didn't get very far." Colm sneers.

"No...this can't be happening! It's some twisted nightmare!" she pleads, attempting to convince herself of a false reality.

Once again, Colm's laughter fills the air as he positions himself on top of her, straddling her and forcefully gripping her jaw. "Look at me." He growls in a bone-chilling tone, his nails digging into the tender flesh of her jaw. Despite the pain, she braves his hold and resists, attempting to pull away.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance and heaving a frustrated sigh, he releases his grasp on her face, only to strike her with a swift, powerful blow, the sickening crack reverberating through the air. Her skin tingles and stings as she struggles to comprehend the brutal assault.

"Look at me." He demands once more, and she lifts her tear-filled eyes to meet his gaze, barely making out his features through her blurred vision. His fingers trace the remnants of her bruised cheek, a wicked smirk playing across his vindictive lips.

"Was that so hard?" He taunts, digging his nail into the tender, swollen flesh. She clenches her teeth, determined not to grant him the satisfaction he seeks from inflicting pain upon her.

"I'm gon' kill you!" She growls, her teeth clenched tightly together, her gaze searing with a ferocity that could melt steel.

"You shouldn't speak that way to the man who is gonna father your bastard child." He retorts.

Her blood turns to ice, and her heart feels as though it's being crushed. "Wha-what do you mean, 'bastard child'?"

"Don't you get it?" He sneers, aware that she is completely in the dark. She looks up at him, her brow furrowed, waiting for him to unravel this bewildering truth.

"They came for you, all of them—Arthur, Dutch, everyone. Even the women joined in. But one by one, they fell. First Dutch, then Arthur, until every last one of them lay lifeless in pools of their blood." He reveals, a disturbing fondness coloring his words as her body begins to tremble uncontrollably.

"Liar!" She cries out, tears streaming relentlessly down her face, adding to the sting of his words.

"It's a hard pill to swallow, but it is the truth. I would never deceive you, especially not after I murdered your friends, your husband, and even your father." When he senses that she still doesn't believe him, he takes a moment to pull out Arthur's revolver from the nightstand beside the bed, the metal crusted with dried blood.

Alice goes to speak but all that comes out of her mouth is a whimper. She closes her eyes as she breaks down, her heart breaking as she envisions seeing the gang lying dead, Arthur, Dutch, Tilly, Charles, Susan- She doesn't want to believe it, a part of her is screaming at her that it's a lie but with the images of everyone laying dead, their bodies riddled with bullets she can't help but believe it's the truth.

"Hush, sweetheart. Let it all out." He coos, twirling her hand around his dirt-stained fingers.

"Get away from me. Now." Her words drip with hatred and venom.

"I'll give you some time alone." He says softly, placing the revolver back on the nightstand, a clear message lingering in the air: 'You have nothing left.'

Hours pass as she remains seated on the bed, clutching herself as tears continue to flow. Just when she believes her tears have run dry, her gaze falls upon the blood-crusted revolver. Reluctantly, she reaches out and takes it into her trembling hand, immediately checking the cylinder for bullets. As she expected, it's empty.

"He fought hard." Colm comments, startling her. She hadn't noticed his return to the room, his presence only becoming apparent now. But she chooses to ignore him, her eyes fixated on the revolver, memories flooding her mind—how she carefully selected its engravings, ensuring the gunsmith carved their initials into the grip as a wedding gift, and how his dreamy oceanic blue-green eyes lit up with joy when she presented it to him.

"I don't get it. You barely cried when we captured you and now you can't stop over those who ain't alive no more." Colm jests, perching himself on the edge of the creaky bed frame.

Colm seems to grasp her unspoken question, and he responds, "Why did I spare you? There are many reasons, but if I'm bein' honest, keeping Dutch's daughter even after his demise brings a certain satisfaction. That bastard is probably rolling in his grave," He pauses to chuckle. "If he had one... I can only imagine the critters are damn near close to picking his bones clean by now."

"Why?" she manages to choke out as her chest tightens, making each breath more agonizing than the last.

"You're better off killin' me now 'cause if you don't... I'm sure as shit gonna find a way to kill you."

"That's just the grief talkin'."

"It's a goddamn promise and daddy taught me never to break one."

"Really? You'd kill the man who would take care of you and our unborn child?"

"Jr is not your child and he will NEVER belong to you." She forcefully spits into his face, determined to make it clear that she will never submit to him.

His face contorts with rage as he wipes away the spit from his face. "I know what you're tryin' to do. It ain't gonna work but do something like that again and I won't hesitate to cut your tongue from your mouth."

Fully aware that he will keep his word if she continues to defy him, she decides to keep her mouth shut.

-

The following weeks pass in a haze for Alice, numbed to everything, even in the presence of Colm. She tried to starve herself, but Colm forcefully shoved food down her throat when she refused to eat. And if she refused to drink, he used his mouth to transfer water into her own, suffocating any resistance.

Though Colm has removed her restraints and granted her freedom within the room, the window remains boarded up and the door is locked from the outside. Every breakable item has been eliminated, even though she had a chance to eliminate Colm once.

Deep down, she longed to kill him at that very moment, fighting the urge with every fiber of her being, but instead, she bides her time, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to exact her revenge, to make him suffer the way he made her suffer. Arthur always said, "Revenge is a fool's game." but this vile man will pay dearly for taking away everyone she loved.

With a grim determination, she starts unwrapping the dirt and blood-covered gauze from around her mangled nub, wincing as each tear of the gauze reopens the painful scabs beneath.

Alice's desperate desire for her mangled appendage to become infected, potentially leading to her demise, became a distant dream when she refused to give herself medical treatment. Colm ordered one of his lackeys to mend her wound. The incompetence displayed during that torturous ordeal was enough to make her question the intelligence of that man, though she couldn't say that she was surprised by that man's intelligence or lack thereof.

Examining the wound now, she can see patches of red where the gauze had forcibly torn away the delicate scabs. It is a grotesque sight, made even more haunting by the fact that it exists on her own body. Each time she beholds it, it serves as a solemn reminder of her failures, not just once, but twice. The regret of her inability to protect herself lingers, leading to her capture, and the subsequent loss of her loved ones.

She strikes a match, the scent of red phosphorus faintly tickling her senses, invoking memories of Arthur. Tears well in her eyes at the recollection of him, a tumultuous blend of anger, grief, and overwhelming sadness. Suppressing a whimper, she holds the burning match near her wound, feeling the searing heat wash over her, eradicating the haunting memories she once took for granted.

In the past, Alice despised when Dutch would claim that she was still a child, insisting that she lacked the maturity to make decisions. Yet now, she reflects on her actions, realizing that she had indeed acted childish when she ran away from her father's refusal to listen to reason. Watching the match gradually burn down to a mere stub, she can't help but marvel at it...

How. Fucking. Ironic.

With a sigh escaping her lips, she carefully removes the tin lid of the healing ointment, dipping her fingers into the salve and spreading a generous amount on her fingertips. Applying it to the stump, she finds solace in the pain, as if it momentarily shields her from the creeping insanity that lingers within her mind.

Using a piece of gauze held between her teeth, she lifts her arm and tightly wraps the wound, hoping that the pressure will numb the ache and silence the haunting voices of those she has lost, even if just for a brief hour.

Her annoyance flickers across her face. Why couldn't Colm have severed her left arm instead? The cruelty he inflicts on her seems excessive, driven by a desire to make her suffer. But why? Because Dutch took the life of his brother, igniting a vengeful fire that has scorched her existence. Yet, his torment feels disproportionate.

At that moment, a realization strikes her like a lightning bolt. The heartache she has endured, the pain, anger, and deep sadness. He must have felt it too, fueling his thirst for revenge. It was satisfied when he coldly snatched away her mother Annabelle's life right before her eyes. But was that truly enough? Unfortunately, it only ignited this foolish blood feud, a relentless cycle of violence that has plagued them for years.

"How's it healin'?" Colm asks softly, taking a seat beside her on the bed. His arm drapes over her shoulder, and he leans in to press a chapped kiss on her cheek. She forces herself to remain stoic, resisting the urge to strike him as her hand finds its place in her lap.

"Alright, I suppose," She answers with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know what you felt- How you felt."

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"How much pain you were in..." She explains, her voice soft. "Did killin' my father truly bring you the satisfaction you sought for revenge?"

Colm is taken aback by her words. Truthfully, he hadn't contemplated the aftermath of killing Dutch.

"I guess I understand why you did it." She says softly, shrugging her shoulders. She's already weary of waiting for his response. After all, she knows what he'll say: "Taking your father's life didn't bring my brother back."

She rises to her feet, gathering the supplies she used to mend her wound and placing them back in the nightstand drawer. The drawer proves stubborn, jamming each time she tries to close it. As frustration fills her, Colm comes up from behind, resting his head on top of hers and cradling her swollen belly with his hands.

"It didn't make me feel any better... But look at the opportunity it has given us. We get to build a family together." He murmurs tenderly, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. She's never felt so disgusted in her life.

She rotates, locking her gaze with his, her hand finding purchase on his shoulder. Her fingers fumble with the collar of his shirt, tracing along the fabric.

She eagerly awaits the day when she has fully regained her strength, strong enough to end Colm's life. Killing him won't alter the past, but at least she won't have to endure him in the future.

"I just don't understand why you need me here even after you killed my father." She states softly, her eyes threatening to spill over with tears once more.

"I've had an eye for you for a long while now Alice." He replies as his thumb traces along her cheekbone down to the split in her lip, he had given her the other day for disrespecting him. "You'll understand one day when you're my wife."

-

Weeks have passed since Colm began granting Alice certain freedoms. She now has permission to leave the room and take charge of cleaning the neglected rooms that his men had left in disarray. Despite the challenge of working with only one arm, Alice has persevered. She has scrubbed diligently until the blood stains from the previous owners on the wooden floor have vanished. She keeps the windows and doors open to let in fresh air until evening when she begins preparing dinner.

She knows she must continue playing the role of a dutiful housewife, at least for a little while longer. With each passing day, her growing belly reminds her that time is running out. While she has adapted to the limitations of having only one arm, everyday tasks remain a challenge.

Once a week the men take her into town for a bath or down to Owanjila lake and that's if she behaves herself, if not well then that's a day or two shackled to Colm's bed.

One of Colm's henchmen interrupts her cleaning with a cold statement: "Colm expects you to be clean when he returns." Without warning, he throws a bar of soap at her, and she barely manages to catch it. Determined to maintain some modesty, she takes a step to the side, in an attempt to shield her nude form in the tall grass. However, the man forcefully grabs her arm, disregarding her attempt at privacy.

"Don't be shy, I already know what you're hidin' underneath that blouse." His voice drips with desire, causing her stomach to churn. But she maintains her composure, careful not to reveal her true intentions to him.

She nods softly, her eyes downcast as she delicately begins unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers momentarily struggle, leading to a heartless chuckle from the man.

"If you need some help, all you have to do is ask." He offers in a seemingly sweet tone, yet his expression betrays the ulterior motives behind his words.

Briefly, Alice's vision turns red, but she quickly regains control. She must remain composed if she wants to seize this opportunity.

"That would be delightful." She responds, her voice akin to honey, fluttering her eyelashes and subtly swaying her body. The man catches on to her not-so-subtle hint and places his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. Fortunately, her baby bump acts as a small barrier between them.

"Come here." He says, his smirk sending a twist through her stomach, yet she maintains a stoic expression. His fingers forcefully grasp the opening of her blouse, causing buttons to fly in every direction. She attempts to shield her exposed breasts with her arm, but he stops her, his grip bruising her.

A warning look from him sends a chilling shiver down her spine, her instincts urging her to act, but she restrains herself. She closes her eyes as his thumb traces her bottom lip, slowly descending from her chin to her neck, trailing over her collarbone and settling on her breasts.

Suppressing her pride, she rises onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arm around his waist. Her tongue glides along the pulsing vein in his neck, detesting the saltiness of his skin while his hands explore the contours of her torso. Occasionally, his nail grazes one of the scars left by Colm on her ribcage, eliciting a whimper against his skin.

Thankfully, the other man has chosen to avert his gaze, providing Alice an opportunity to act.

Her teeth sink into the tender flesh of his neck, her fingers simultaneously securing a firm grip on his revolver. As she tears away a chunk of his flesh, the taste of blood, all too familiar, coats her taste buds while he unleashes a pained howl. In that split second, she extracts the revolver, pulling back the hammer as she aims it at the man positioned just a few feet away.

The gunshot reverberates through the air, scattering birds from the nearby trees, as a crimson mist envelops the space around his head, his body collapsing lifelessly to the ground. Alice would have found tranquility in this moment if the other man's screams didn't pierce the air like that of a terrified child, clutching his wound.

Forcing him down onto the grass, Alice swiftly grabs the knife from his gunbelt. A smirk adorns her face as she straddles him, positioning the blade's tip beneath his chin. A sense of pride fills her being as she leans in, relishing the sight of fear and terror flickering within his brown eyes, as he begins to plead for his life.

"I'll see you in hell." She whispers coldly before pressing the blade against his throat, slicing through the skin effortlessly. A spray of blood gushes forth, splattering her face, her torn blouse, and her exposed bosom.

She rises from him, finding a seat beside her grisly masterpiece, her mind already contemplating her next move. Lost in the scene unfolding before her, she watches the afternoon sun cast its radiant glow upon the water, slowly descending behind the tree line, as if bidding farewell for the day. The melodic symphony of birdsong fills the air as they return to the safety of their branches, preparing to nestle in for the night.

In this moment, uncertainty looms over her. She wonders if this might be her final glimpse at a breathtaking sunset, her last chance to savor the intoxicating fragrance of wildflowers, or her final opportunity to be enchanted by the birdsong. Regardless of the answer, she is determined to seize this moment, cherishing it as if it is indeed her last.

-

The gang had never settled in one place for such an extended period of time, but they are haunted by fear that she would return if they moved. Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur were particularly consumed by this worry. Meanwhile, the other gang members had resigned themselves to the notion that Alice had passed on, finding solace in the belief that she had found freedom from suffering.

Strauss, driven by his desire for debt collection, departed the gang as Arthur's focus shifted towards the search for Alice. It wasn't until he finally delved into her journal that he discovered the depths of her remorse over his cruel treatment of the less fortunate. She had even taken it upon herself to delve into Strauss' debt book, seeking out the very families he had exploited, and providing them with the means to repay their debts.

Arthur didn't realize the gang had begun to stray from the moral path they had forged, while Alice remained steadfastly committed to those values in secret. Under the cover of darkness, she would venture out and sell her prized belongings, using the spoils to alleviate the burdens of the less fortunate. How had he become so blessed to have her by his side?

The pages of Alice's journal invited Arthur into a realm he had never before explored. An initial hesitance was replaced by a longing for closeness with his wife. In doing so, he found himself falling in love with her all over again, questioning why she would choose someone like him. But every entry he read answered his questions with an exquisite level of detail, painting a picture of a love so profound that she deemed him as essential as the very air she breathed or the water that quenched her thirst on scorching summer days. The sketches she had made of him, meticulously capturing every scar and imperfection, served as a testament to her adoration, enhancing his already handsome features in her eyes.

The absence of her presence leaves him bereft with a profound ache that permeates his entire being, as if a vital part of his soul has been lost. He yearns for her, longing for the warmth of her voice whispering sweet compliments about his looks each day or teasing him with tantalizing words that ignite a fire within, only to playfully retreat and gaze innocently, her eyes sparkling with emerald hues, while a tender smile graces her lips.

In her presence, he had never fully grasped the immense fortune he possessed. Cherishing those moments, he now realizes the depth of his luck and the sheer blessing it was to have her by his side.

Dutch finds himself spiraling into despair, overwhelmed by the guilt of failing both his daughter and the memory of her mother, just as he failed long ago. With unwavering determination, he had sworn upon Annabelle's grave that he would stop at nothing to protect Alice, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. Yet, the bitter truth remains, haunting him relentlessly - he is still alive while uncertain of her fate.

His beloved daughter is out there somewhere, carrying with her the precious gift of his unborn grandchild. Though he may never openly admit it, Dutch has always harbored a deep longing for the day Alice would grant him the cherished title of grandfather. Unexpectedly, it was Arthur, who partook in that and truthfully Dutch couldn't be prouder. Clutching a photograph in his weathered hands, he reflects upon the early days of their gang, when Susan, Annabelle, Bessie, Hosea, John, Arthur, himself, and Alice stood united. In the image, Alice perches upon his shoulders, a radiant smile illuminating her face, adorning her hair with delicate flowers, defying societal expectations as she reveled in her individuality alongside the boys.

Deep down, Dutch had always known that Alice was destined for more than the life she was thrust into. Her remarkable talents held the power to carry her far beyond the confines of their world. In the past, he had even ventured to support her dreams, offering financial assistance to nurture her talents and guide her towards success. Nevertheless, Alice consistently declined, asserting that there was no place in the world she would rather be than at her father's side. Time has now revealed that her reluctance to depart was not solely due to loyalty, but a clandestine yearning that led her into the embrace of Arthur's arms.

Dutch gently places the photograph on his cot, tenderly brushing away the tears staining his weathered cheeks. As he tries to regain composure, Hosea enters his tent, offering a weary smile while settling into a chair beside the bed. It is a rare sight for Hosea to witness Dutch in such despair, a level of despair he hasn't witnessed since the loss of Annabelle, and yet this time, Dutch appears even more broken.

"I... I miss her." Dutch mutters, his voice trembling with unending hours of sorrow.

With a sympathetic understanding, Hosea nods, reaching over to hand Dutch a worn and folded piece of paper. Dutch's furrowed brows reflect his confusion as he accepts the fragile paper, his hands tremoring uncontrollably.

"What's this?" Dutch inquires, his gaze fixed on Hosea, searching for answers.

"She gave it to me a while back... Just go ahead and open it." Hosea encourages, his own eyes brimming with tears.

Dutch takes a deep, steadying breath, cautiously unfolding the delicate paper, treating it with the utmost care. His eyes scan the contents, and his breath catches.

"You're not alone in this." the paper reads, the beautiful handwriting unmistakably Alice's, accompanied by her delicate hand-drawn picture of the gang huddled around a campfire below.

After a moment of silence, Hosea's mind drifts back to the time when Bessie, his beloved wife, passed away. The bitterness that consumed him, the incessant drinking to numb the pain of losing her. With a heavy sigh, he recalls those dark days.

"I know this feeling all too well," Hosea admits, his voice tinged with sadness. "I understand that it's tearing you apart, that you're in immense pain. But, Dutch, you can't push away the very people who love and support you. We're here for you... Each and every one of us."

Dutch's eyes widen with the sudden realization that he has been unintentionally neglecting the gang. He spends his days drowning himself in alcohol, secluded within the confines of his tent, lost in the memories captured in old photographs.

"I ain't fit to lead anymore... I couldn't even protect my own daughter." Dutch utters sorrowfully, his head hanging low, his once immaculate hair now falling disheveled across his eyes.

Before Hosea can respond, a distant shout from one of the men on watch echoes through the air, cautioning someone to cease their approach. A sense of urgency fills the space between Dutch and Hosea, their gazes meeting with unspoken agreement as they hastily rise from their seats and rush towards the path leading into camp.

Confusion overtakes Arthur as he surveys the scene before him, his brows furrowing in disbelief. Bill's rifle remains fixed on the woman and her frightened son, but Dutch and Hosea arrive just in time, demanding that Bill lower his weapon.

The woman hesitates, her hand gently caressing her son's hair in an attempt to calm him. "Is there a woman named Alice Morgan here? I need to speak with her urgently." she pleads.

Arthur's voice fills the air, laced with a touch of intimidation. "How do you know that name?" he demands.

The woman takes a tentative breath, reaching into her worn pocket to retrieve a necklace. It is the very same necklace Annabelle had given Alice before her untimely demise. "She gave me this," she begins, her voice trembling. "She came to settle the debt my family owed. Upon learning that my husband fell ill, she gave us this necklace to sell, to purchase medicine for him."

Arthur, intrigued yet cautious, accepts the necklace from the woman, his eyes locked on hers, waiting for further explanation.

Relaying her story, the woman continues, her voice tinged with sadness. "But my husband, stubborn as he was, refused to sell it, believing the medicine wouldn't work. Sadly, he passed away a week ago, and I felt it was only right to return this necklace to its rightful owner."

"I-I appreciate this, Mrs..." Arthur's voice trails off, a mix of gratitude and concern evident on his face.

"Mrs. Downes," She interjects, guiding her son along the path towards the road. Once he's out of earshot, she leans in closer to Arthur. Her voice drops to a hushed tone. "I didn't want to say this in front of my son, but I fear for her safety. The O'Driscolls have been lurkin' around my farm, causin' trouble. They spoke of movin' her to Big Valley, to a place called Hanging Dog Ranch. I apologize for not coming to you sooner, but I just couldn't bear to leave the farm so soon after my husband's passin'."

Arthur's eyes widen with a mix of shock and determination, as he absorbs the weight of the woman's words.

-

"Where is that goddamn bastard? Where is my wife!?" Arthur's voice explodes, his frantic gaze scanning the faces surrounding him. His words drip with rage, sending a chilling wave of fear through the others.

Arthur grips the nameless goon by his shirt, the sole survivor of his slaughtered friends. He raises his fist, ready to unleash another blow, but Dutch intervenes. The man's face is already a horrifying sight: bloodied and battered, with a severely crooked nose, swollen shut eyes, and a canvas of purple and blue hues from Arthur's brutal assault. While Arthur has engaged in numerous fights before, often fueled by alcohol-induced foolishness, this time it's an uncontainable rage. The only way to stop him is to extract the information he seeks.

"P-please," the man stammers, choking on a mouthful of blood, his gums throbbing where his teeth once were. "Cliff and Burke took her... that's all I know!"

"That's not good enough!" Arthur growls.

"You have a chance to walk away with your life," Dutch interjects, calmly circling the pair. "Tell us where my daughter is and disclose Colm's whereabouts, and your life will be spared." The level of composure in Dutch's voice even manages to unsettle him.

"M-mr. Van Der Linde," Kieran speaks up, his voice trembling.

"Not now." Dutch replies, diverting his attention back to Arthur and the last remaining O'Driscoll.

-

Alice tirelessly drafts and revises countless plans, desperate to find a way to eliminate Colm without sacrificing her own life in the process. She knows that even if she succeeds, her time left on this earth may be short-lived. But as long as Colm meets his demise, she can find solace in that. If she were to die, at least it wouldn't be in vain.

It takes her a grueling ten minutes to devise a method of mounting a horse with one arm and a swollen belly. After numerous attempts and errors, she finally manages to mount the horse, embarking on her journey back to Hanging Dog Ranch.

With each step the horse takes, a suffocating cloud of dread washes over Alice, tempting her to turn back and escape, to start afresh somewhere else. However, deep within her heart, she knows that until Colm breathes his last breath, true peace will elude her.

As she draws closer to the ranch, the air becomes plagued with billowing smoke. The thunderous sound of hooves pounding against the earth catches her attention, and then she sees him. Right in her line of sight is the very man she is looking for.

-

"Dutch, Arthur!" Susan's voice pierces the air as she delivers a resounding slap to the side of Dutch's head. "Pay attention!" she insists, gesturing towards the chilling, distant screams that echo through the air.

In that instant, the horrifying wails also reach Arthur's ears, causing him to release his tight grip on the O'Driscoll, urgently racing towards the horses. Hosea swiftly follows suit, their determination evident in their strides. Meanwhile, Dutch calmly observes the man who pleads for his life, standing tall with unwavering composure.

"Please!" the man pleads, his voice dripping with desperation. However, his cries for mercy fall on deaf ears... Dutch unholsters his revolver, pressing it firmly against the man's temple, and without a moment's hesitation, he pulls the trigger. The force of the gunshot propels blood and brain matter, staining the ground below, as the others look on at Dutch with a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

-

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!" Her voice bellows with a terrifying intensity, laced with deep-seated hatred. In response, Colm unleashes a devastating punch, connecting with her cheek in a sickening blow. The force jolts her head to the side, leaving the overpowering metallic taste of blood in her mouth, a chilling stain on the surrounding dirt.

Stunned by the brutal strike, Alice momentarily ceases her struggles, her body throbbing with pain. Yet, as she tries to gather herself, a chilling sensation claws at her senses. The sharp edge of a knife slices into her skin, cutting painfully into her shoulder. With clenched teeth, she fights back the instinctual urge to scream, refusing to grant this monster the satisfaction he craves.

"We could have been a family!" He utters with a twisted semblance of tenderness, maliciously smearing her own blood across her face using the stained knife. He plunges the blade into the dirt beside her head before delivering another punishing blow to her face.

Her eyes lock onto the glint of the knife, realizing the imminent danger of it being thrust into her skull. In a heart-stopping moment, he presses his revolver against her chin, the frigid metal piercing her skin. As she closes her eyes, summoning her last reserves of strength, a surge of determination ignites within her.

Her trembling hand grasps the knife tightly, summoning all her courage to thrust it forward with every ounce of strength she can muster. He emits a choked, garbled noise, desperately grasping at the blade lodged in his throat. Summoning all her resolve, Alice shoves him to the side, straddling him in a defiant act of dominance. Using the very knife that brought her agony, she repeatedly plunges it into his chest, driven by her shattered sobs, her own pain from the shoulder wound searing through her.

As she pushes herself up from his lifeless body, the ground trembles beneath the approaching thunder of hooves. Her instinct tells her that more O'Driscolls are charging toward her, but instead of running, she decides it's time to confront whatever lies ahead.

Summoning her strength, she stands tall, prepared to face the consequences that await her. The riders come into view, and her heart sinks while her mouth goes dry. It can't be true... Alice scolds herself for falling victim to Colm's deceit so easily. Tears mingle with the blood on her cheeks, but a small, triumphant smile escapes her lips.

Among the riders, she recognizes faces she thought were lost forever, galloping towards her with a determination matched only by their love for her. It takes less than a minute before she can distinguish each one. A whole band of people she believed to be gone, riding towards her at breakneck speed.

Before she can fully comprehend the speed at which Arthur dismounts his horse, he is standing before her, brushing her disheveled, blood-smeared hair away from her face. His gaze roams over her wounded body, assessing her injuries and the life burgeoning within her pregnant belly.

"Darlin', are you alright?" He murmurs softly, his eyes filled with a mix of sweetness and sadness that tugs at her heartstrings.

Speechless, she exhales gently, nodding as she lifts a trembling hand to caress his jaw. He mirrors her gesture, cupping her face with both hands, their touch a tender connection that speaks volumes. Standing there, face to face, they both feel the painful yearning that has consumed them for far too long.

Despite the bruises and cuts adorning her face, she remains undeniably beautiful. He wraps his arms around her waist as she rises on her tiptoes, their lips meeting in a tender, electric moment.

This kiss transcends any they have shared before. It becomes an exchange of emotions, a conduit for desire, love, and a profound connection. Their tongues dance in perfect harmony, moving in rhythm and sync, conveying their deepest longings. Lust and a shared vulnerability deepen their bond, fueling every passionate touch of their lips. Their souls ache from the longing, their hearts bursting with a love that has been sorely missed.

As Alice pulls away, her fingertips tenderly brushing away Arthur's tears, she echoes the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. "Save them tears," she begins softly, a mirror to his turmoil. "I ain't worth cryin' over."

Dutch playfully interjects, reminding them they're not alone with a teasing tone. "No love for your old man?" He jests, his voice lighthearted yet full of worry.

"Daddy!" Alice calls out with a joyful giggle, darting into Dutch's waiting embrace. He wastes no time, wrapping his arms around her carefully, mindful of her wound, and placing a tender kiss atop her head.

"Alright, this young lady needs some medical attention. The rest of us can wait," Susan asserts, stepping forward after Hosea to envelop Alice in a warm, meaningful hug.

-

The gang successfully pulled off their final job, a simple bank heist that brought them unimaginable riches. With their newfound wealth, they invested in an old plantation home in Leymone that had been left to decay, making it pristine just in time for Alice to deliver their baby. The anticipation of the birth has filled everyone with excitement, each expressing their joy in their own special ways.

Dutch and Hosea took it upon themselves to decorate the nursery, a responsibility initially meant for the women but one they insisted on doing. Their dedication and enthusiasm for creating a beautiful space for the baby is evident.

Meanwhile, John and Abigail have been supporting Alice through the preparations for the birth and the challenges that lie ahead. Though some of the information they have shared might have been unsettling, Alice couldn't be happier knowing she has their guidance and love.

Jack may not fully grasp the concept of having a baby in the gang, but he is still thrilled that he won't be the youngest member anymore. The idea of having a new addition brings him joy and a sense of growing up.

Lenny eagerly looks forward to sharing his love for reading with baby Morgan, eager to nurture and stimulate their young mind with enchanting stories and knowledge.

Sean entertains hopeful thoughts of mischief as he envisions teaching baby Morgan the art of pranks, just as he and his mother used to indulge in when they were mischievous teenagers. He anticipates a mischievous partnership filled with laughter and playful adventures.

Javier wholeheartedly promises to introduce baby Morgan to the world of music through guitar-playing, igniting a passion for melodies and the ability to express oneself artistically. Additionally, he intends to teach the child the beauty of the Spanish language, fostering a connection to cultural heritage.

Charles, alongside Arthur as his trusted mentor, makes a heartfelt vow to guide baby Morgan in navigating through the intricacies of the woods and honing their hunting skills. Together, they hope to instill an appreciation for the natural world and the skills required to survive.

Kieran eagerly expresses his desire to guide baby Morgan in the proper care and nurturing of horses, envisioning a future filled with bonding and shared love for these majestic creatures.

Uncle, despite his occasional struggles with alcohol, exhibits a level of respect and consideration by willingly sleeping on the porch when he's unable to navigate the stairs. This shows a sense of responsibility and an attempt to avoid any disruptions within the household.

Tilly, Sadie, Mary Beth, and Molly are adamant in their belief that baby Morgan is a girl. They have already taken it upon themselves to choose potential names and even select clothes for her. Although they were disappointed by the missed opportunity to create a nursery for the baby, they remain determined to contribute through fashion choices.

Arthur, beyond thrilled, embraces the chance to have a loving family once again. Aware of his past mistakes with Eliza and Issac and the close call with Alice and baby Morgan, he solemnly promises himself that he will not let this opportunity slip away. The possibility of losing loved ones has taught him to value and cherish every present moment.

Since Alice's return, the bond between her and Arthur has become unbreakable. As she had hoped, Arthur constantly demonstrates his care and support, offering to assist with anything. However, Alice independently chooses to take on most tasks, showcasing her strength and resilience.

"You're goin' to get my shirt dirty." Arthur teases, strolling up to Alice who stands knee-deep in the water, with Jack by her side engaged in a frog-catching mission.

Alice glances up, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazes at Arthur, accompanied by John. A smirk graces her lips as she starts wading through the soft mud towards the shore.

"Uncle Arthur, Daddy!" Jack exclaims, gripping Alice's hand for support in navigating the messy mud. "Aunt Alice was helping me catch frogs!" Once onshore, Jack rushes toward Arthur and John. John squats down, extending his arms, only to be ignored as Jack clings to Arthur's leg.

Arthur playfully musses Jack's hair, chuckling at his enthusiasm. John may have faltered as a father in the past, but lately, he's been giving his all to become the father Jack has always needed.

"Hey, Jack, let's go get cleaned up. Lunchtime is just around the corner." John says, gently gripping Jack's hand and leading him towards the house.

"How's my lovely wife doing?" Arthur inquires, glancing at Alice as she leans against the boathouse, weariness etched across her face.

"Exhausted." She replies, her voice reflecting her fatigue.

"You're supposed to be restin'. Lily Morgan will be here any day now." Arthur reminds her, a lightness in his tone.

"Arthur Jr." She corrects him with a playful giggle.

"If we have another Arthur in here, we're in trouble." He jibes, playfully cupping her swollen belly with his hands.

"There's nothin' wrong with him bein' like his father." She asserts, pushing his hat over his eyes affectionately.

With a lighthearted chuckle, he removes his hat and slicks back his golden locks before playfully placing it on her head. The hat effortlessly falls over her eyes, and she giggles, using her wrist to push it back into place.

"I love it when you wear my hat... and my shirts." He quips, his hands finding their place on her hips.

"Well, good, because I love it too." She responds, leaning in as he leans in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. After a moment, they break apart, and Alice's cheeks turn a rosy shade, as if it's their first shared kiss all over again.

Just then, Jack comes running up to them, clinging onto Arthur's leg once more. "Uncle Arthur, Daddy wants to know if you'll come fishin' with us?" He asks.

Arthur hesitated, his face betraying his reluctance, as he glanced at Alice. "He'd love to go." Alice declared before Arthur had the chance to decline. She understood that Arthur didn't want to leave, especially with her being so close to giving birth, but she reassured herself that a mere hour or two wouldn't do any harm.

"But Alice-" Arthur began.

"Please? I've been craving catfish so much." She pleaded, hoping he would reconsider and leave just long enough for her and the gang to decorate and prepare for a small party - after all, it was Arthur's birthday today.

Arthur appeared as though he was about to protest, but when he saw the desperation etched on Alice's face, he let out a soft chuckle and affectionately rubbed his stubbled chin.

"Alright, alright. But don't expect too much, darlin'. I won't be gone for long."

-

"Hey Alice, are you decent?" Dutch asks with concern, gently tapping on her slightly open door. "The girls said you'd be up here getting ready."

"Yes, daddy. Please come in." She replies, her voice tired, not bothering to sit up. It's been a draining day for Alice, but she knows that if Arthur sees her like this, he won't leave her side. It's tough enough that he forgot his own birthday because he's so focused on Alice and baby Morgan.

As Dutch enters the room, he discovers Alice curled up on the bed, visibly exhausted. It reminds him of how Annabelle looked when she was nearing her due date.

Taking a seat on the bed's edge, Dutch reaches out to touch Alice's forehead with the back of his hand, noticing the slight dampness from her sweat.

"I truly appreciate all your help today, daddy." She says with a relieved sigh, propping her head up with her arm.

"Anything for my not-so-little girl anymore." He teases, his eyes glancing towards her belly.

"Very funny," she replies, rolling her eyes. "Could you lend me a hand to get up?"

Dutch nods, rising from his seat and reaching out to hold her hand as he assists her in getting up from the bed. "You're about to pop."

"No need to remind me. He's been giving me just as much trouble as his father these past few days."

"Alice, maybe you should take a little more rest. You look like you could use it." Dutch suggests, gently guiding her towards the nearest chair.

"Arthur could be back any minute, and I haven't even finished getting ready yet," she remarks pointedly, gesturing towards the muddy overalls lying on the floor beside the bed. Though she's already washed up, she still wants to doll herself up for his return. "Besides, I'll have all the time in the world to rest when I'm gone."

"Let me help you with your hair, at least." He offers, picking up her brush from the vanity. She nods softly, taking a seat in the chair and allowing him to start teasing her curly locks. He fondly remembers the days when Alice was younger and he would always do her hair. Gently gathering a decent amount of hair, he begins to brush through it. As relaxation washes over her, she lets out a content sigh.

-

"John Marston, if you don't let me go into the house I won't hesitate to geld you!" Arthur firmly warns as he attempts to approach the house.

Innocently, young Jack questions, "Uncle Arthur, what does 'geld' mean?"

John sighs with disappointment, muttering, "Well done, Morgan."

Undeterred, Arthur forcefully passes by John, heading straight for the house. To his utter surprise, he walks into an empty room, causing panic to grip him as he fears Alice may have gone into labor.

Whispering from their concealed positions, Tilly asks Alice, "Do you think he's armed?"

Alice gazes at Tilly and simply shrugs, using her fingers to count down. Suddenly, everyone bursts out of hiding, shouting "surprise" simultaneously, catching Arthur off guard.

Arthur's eyes widen, his heart pounding in his chest as the unexpected surprise sends shivers down his spine. Gradually, one by one, everyone gathers around him, holding little gifts they had thoughtfully prepared. Alice, with a mischievous smile, approaches last, her arm concealed behind her back.

"Happy Birthday, my love," she coos sweetly, her voice filled with tenderness, presenting him with a gift she had crafted. It's a personalized satchel, intricately adorned with his initials woven into the fabric. "Go ahead," she encourages, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Open it."

With trembling hands, Arthur unwraps the gift, revealing a pristine journal nestled inside. Carefully, he retrieves the journal, flipping open to the first page. To his astonishment, he finds a heartfelt note accompanied by a beautifully drawn portrait. "I love you more than words can express. I am so proud to be your wife," the page reads, depicting a tender moment of Arthur nestled beside Alice's swollen belly, his peaceful slumber mirroring the joy radiating from his face.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Arthur is rendered speechless, a warmth spreading through his chest. Gratefully, he pulls Alice into a tight embrace, his words a mixture of praise and heartfelt gratitude for the cherished gifts.

-

The ceremony concludes, and the jubilant celebration envelops the atmosphere. The melodic tunes fill the air, intertwining with the infectious laughter reverberating throughout the house. Arthur, unable to contain his excitement, takes Alice's hand, guiding her towards the improvised dance floor.

With synchronized movements, they sway gently to the music, their eyes illuminating with the profound love they share. However, Alice's protruding belly and shorter legs present a graceful challenge that they tackle with unwavering determination.

Chuckling lightly, Alice remarks, "Arthur, it seems like our little one can't resist joinin' in on the festivities." She says with a giggle feeling the fluttering kicks in her belly.

Arthur reciprocates with a playful response, "Seems like he's got quite the moves already." He teases experiencing each gentle kick against his own belly.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Dutch steps forward, a glimmer of adoration reflected in his eyes. "Let me show you how it's done, son."

With practiced elegance, Dutch takes Alice's hand, twirling her effortlessly across the dance floor. The other gang members erupt in cheers and laughter, reveling in the camaraderie and the contagious joy that surrounds them. Alice nestles her head against Dutch's chest as they move harmoniously to the music.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp escapes Alice's lips, her hands instinctively cradling her swelling belly. Dutch, his concern evident in his eyes, places a reassuring hand on Alice's shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"I... I think so." Alice murmurs, a cold shiver coursing through her body.

Dutch, his voice tinged with urgency, offers, "Should we go-"

Before he can finish his sentence, Alice hunches over, gripping her abdomen tightly as a wave of agony washes over her and a warmth cascades down her legs.

"My water just broke!"

[westernhar3]

The Coyotes Call (Charles Smith x Reader)

Charles x Reader - F/M explicit

The silence of the Heartlands was almost addicting, out here in the empty plains broken only by the rock formations and equally rocky hills. You hadn’t meant to stay away so long; you had travelled away from Clemens Point to find some kind of job. Anything would do just enough to bring in the cash that Dutch was begging for, yet somehow you hadn’t found anything apart from wanted posters and dust. Some how that summarised your life these days. You were pretty sure that the whole ordeal with the Grays and the Braithwaites was going to bite the lot of you on the ass. You couldn’t say that though, so you just leave for a job away from Rhodes. You lost track of the days between riding out to Valentine or to Emerald Ranch, your days were full of petty robberies and hunting. In all you were turning up a fair bit of cash but nothing life changing. So, you stay away and keeping moving to different camps.

For a while you though about setting up in Horseshoe Overlook but that place seemed haunted. No one had died there, no life lost but without the gang it seemed barren. There was nothing there but the ruins of an old wagon and a mass of bottles and cans; to you they appeared like ancient sacred markers now rotting away. So, you moved on and went back to the overflow. Here you settled tucked away from people and the elements, it was a good spot that seemed almost carved out for you.

Still, you did not know how much time has passed since you left but you guessed it had been a while. For some reason you were not too bothered by it, you missed the bustle but that was all you had joined after Micah and Charles. You had been running alone for a while and before that you were just another dance hall girl selling yourself just to make ends meet. This life was harder, but it never felt like you were being used.

You waited now on a hill, body pressed flat against the ground hidden away in the buffalo grass. In front of you sat your rifle it looked out into the expanse of the plains. Every now and again you moved your head to stare into the scope before moving away again and then back. You did this five times before setting your chin against your arm and just listening. All you could really hear was the soft chews of your horse and the bird song. At some point you had begun to zone out, the world washing away from around you as you tried your hardest not to drift away.

“Here you are -” the words fell into the air like the tolling of a bell, you hadn’t expected to be approached and it snapped something in you like a tripwire.

Moving quickly, you stood and turned, knife gripped tight to turn on the stranger in as much defence as the actions of a mountain lion. Quick and surefooted you move toward the stranger almost blindly; before you could cause any damage the face of the stranger came into focus his hand coming up to grip you tightly stopping your mid slash. He leant back slightly just away from the point of the knife and smiled. It was a beautiful and familiar smile the type you liked to think he only ever gave you.

“Charles,” you smile back at him lowering your knife and easing your body, you slipped the weapon back into your boot and stepped forward a little looking him over. “I was sent to look for you by Dutch,” he says that deep almost monotone voice sent shivers down your spine as he looked you over “it’s been almost two weeks y/n.”

Had it really been so long it felt like it had only been at most a week since you left. You pondered for a second looking at Taima and the way she moved over to your own horse and had begun to gently nip his shoulder.

“Has it really been that long?” “Yes. What have you been doing out here for so long?” “I was looking for a job and I guess I ended up living the life of a hunter and trapper,” this makes you laugh for a moment. A legal and somewhat safe way of life that was never an option before you had met Charles and he had kindly instructed you on how to hunt and track. “There are worst things I suppose.”

You smiled at him again, he had never really been one for words. As if words were too much for him to bother with, instead he stood a silent strong figure that stirred something within you. He was sent out often with Arthur to make even the bravest men speak, he was endowed with such a fierce look to him only intensified by his stillness. He reminded you of a wolf resting on a ledge just watching the world in preparation to strike. He was the opposite of Sean who never shut up or stayed still and was only terrifying when holding a fire bottle.

“So, you going to come back to -” “It’s late, I have some venison left and I like it here.” “Okay, just come back soon.”

Perhaps it was the way he moved, the way his muscles flexed under his body as he swung himself up into the saddle, but you couldn’t let him leave. You catch up with him but find yourself tripping slightly on the uneven ground. You take hold of the reigns to right yourself with one hand resting on his thigh fingers lightly touching the inside. You pull your hands away just as quickly as you had placed them on him bringing them up close to your chest as you both just stand looking at each other.

“You change your mind?” “No – I – Do you want to stay the night?”

He looks back at you with questioning eyes no words falling from his lips and yet he seemed to gesture for you to lead the way or at least you hoped that was the case. You felt for a moment like Orpheus as if looking back at Charles would cause him to disappear. Instead, you pick up the rifle swinging it over your shoulder and taking hold of the wooden horn on your saddle pull yourself up and begin riding toward the Overflow. You count the sound of hooves.

[dimepdf]

MISC MASTERLIST.

remember to show your support by sending me a message or reblog! I always appreciate feedback on any of my works and appreciate everyone who comments. 

key: ☁️ fluff , 🕊 angst , ❕ smut , ❔ on hold

★    MW3!

in love with johnny's girl. 🕊❕

since the moment that Ghost laid eyes on you, he has sworn to be smitten. too bad you are Soap's girl. (ghost)

don't worry daddy's home. ☁️❕

you miss König a lot, and every time he comes back, you make sure to make up for lost time. (konig)

★    NOPE!

doves in the wind.❕

you and Angel might have gotten off on the wrong foot, or maybe that's what you want him to think. (angel)

somebody to love. 🕊

trauma bonding with your least favorite bleached blonde coworker. (angel)

falling in your arms. 🕊

the unfolding of it begins to take a toll on you after fighting a killer cloud alien with a thirst for your family's horses, siblings, and friends. Fortunately, Angel is by your side to support you. (angel)

★    ERROR 143!

spitters are quitters. ☁️❕

the movie date you go on with Micah ends up being a bit more than PG-13.

★    CHAINSAW MAN!

evil, ornery, scandalous, and evil.❕

how your boyfriend would react to you calling him pretty.

you'll always be next to me. ☁️

Angel Devil sometimes has too much on his mind to worry about, and he likes to use you to distract him from it all.

★    THE LAST OF US!

i think you're holding the heart of mine.🕊❕

Joel couldn't help it, he was infatuated with the way you looked, and he would think about you so vividly that it would keep him up to the point of tossing and turning in his bed at night.

kissing bruises.❕

when it comes to your sticky fingers, Joel is pretty tired of being the one to clean up all your messes, so he decides that he finally deserves an award.

★    SLASHERS!

your teeth in my neck.❕

with Ethan being the poor loser virgin that he was, the boy just couldn't help but have some weird fantasies about you taking his virginity.

teasing touches.❕

when you tease Jack just a little bit too much before the Scream VI movie premiere, making it difficult for him to stay grounded in the theater, especially with your lingering hands.

★    AVATER!

touch me 'round my wasteland.❕

when you initially asked Neteyam, the eldest Sully son who also happened to be smitten for you, for more assistance with your Na'vi knowledge, he was happy to help with a more hands-on approach.

© dimepdf, all rights reserved. do not republish or translate my fics.

[twsted-idiot]

1, 4, 8, AND 13 GAAAAH!!! for any of your ocs <33

twirls my hair they're all horrible people (I love them) ermm violence, drugs, alcohol, sa, cannibalism, yk the drill.

Including Lucille and Micah in some of them for once <33 (not all of them though)

Excluding murder, what is the worst thing your OC has ever done?

(gonna just list a bunch of the crimes they've committed)

Mia: literally every crime ever (/j) theft, blackmailing, GTA (like stealing cars n shirt which goes w theft but yk), torture (technically goes along w murder but), underage drinking, assault, identity fraud (fake id??), Breaking and entering, destruction of property/vandalism, doing drugs 😍, arson

Riley: Stalking, blackmailing, kidnapping, assault, being ginger, underage drinking (forced. Mostly.), torture, ARSON SO MUCH FUCKING ARSON BANANAJSR

Kai: cannibalism. Which yeah, typically results in murder. But. Like. He will eat someone alive. Torture, and destruction of property. He's really not that bad considering the other two.

Violet: drugging, torture, kidnapping and assault. She's also, not that bad considering Mia and Riley 💀

Lucille: stalking, kidnapping, torture, assault, underage drinking, destruction of property, vandalism.

4. What appears in your OC's darkest nightmares?

Riley: her mother and Jordan abusing her again, s/o leaving her (they ain't going nowhere but she's paranoid.), And Jack and her dad dying.

Mia: being sa'd again, by anyone, but especially her s/o. It's not a lack of trust, she's also extremely paranoid and she acts so aggressive n shit BECAUSE she's scared.

Kai: being abandoned/treated like an animal again (mostly being muzzled)

Violet: somehow making Evelyn worse rather than better. And also. Feeling pain. It's a foreign thing to her (disorder that makes her numb 2 pain or whatrver.)

Micah: Zack dying, he DOES NOT have anyone else.

8. Would your OC consider themself evil?

Making this short n sweet. Yes. All of them do, but they don't care, some of them don't know any better, and the others jusr don't give a shit.

13. Who does your OC hate the most?

Mia: Her family, all of them. Yes, they're all dead, but she still hates them. They're the cause of all her problems lmao. And Lindsey <3 fuck her

Riley: Her mother and Jordan (+the bitches he cheated w) they're also, both dead, but she HATES them. Moreso her mother bc with her she couldn't get away.

Kai: most of his family (younger siblings excluded) they treated him like an animal. It literally started out as then thinking he ("she" at the time. Transgender!!) Was a freak bc of his teeth, which. Not his fault. He developed a biting problem (FEED THAT BOY AND IT WOULDNT HAPPEN)

Violet: MEN /J uhmm. Her father, he abused her, she couldn't feel it, and he exploited that. She didn't physically feel it but there was still a mental toll on her.

Lucille: her "friends", they pulled "pranks" (like. Pretending they were being kidnapped n shit like that) on her and literally drove her to stab herself in the eye with a pen.

Micah: would say his family but he doesn't remember them, so, the people that kidnapped him as a child.

[ursaspecter]

I don't remember if I've seen anyone talk about it here, so I'll bring it to the table:

4 Horsemen Symbolism in Red Dead Redemption 2

So for those that don't know, the traditional 4 horsemen of the apocalypse are Famine, Conquest, War, and Death. Pestilence replaces Conquest a lot of the time since Conquest and War sound pretty similar, but I will not be including Pestilence in this post. Sorry Pestilence fans maybe next time.

Oh yeah there will be spoilers here, so if you haven't finished the game and don't want to be spoiled, save this and come back to it when you have!

Death rides a pale horse. Pale, not white. A few common interpretations of pale I've seen are a sickly yellow or green, or grey. This one is the biggest reach, but I think Hosea and Silver Dollar could be Death. It's Hosea's death in particular that really sets Dutch over the edge and causes his psyche to unravel more rapidly. He's never given the proper time to grieve, and it clearly takes its toll on him. It's far from the only cause of Dutch's decline, but it certainly didn't help. Hosea is also the one most aware of his impending demise right from the start. He knows he doesn't have much time left, and he wants to make sure people are taken care of before he's gone.

Conquest rides a white horse. For horses, just because a horse has a white coat doesn't necessarily mean it's a white horse. The white Arabian by Lake Isabella for example definitely looks white, but their muzzle and eyelids show more grey skin, so it's not a true white horse. The Count, on the other hand, has a more pink muzzle and eyelids and thus would be a true white horse. A count is also someone in a position of power who owns a sizeable amount of land. That's actually where the word "county" comes from. In a way, they've conquered that land for themselves. Dutch and his gang kind of conquer the land for their camps especially in regards to Shady Belle and Beaver Hollow when they had to take out the Lemoyne Raiders and Murphree Brood respectively.

War rides a red horse. In the game files, there's a liver chestnut Hungarian Halfbred with high stats that looks pretty red to me. Many fans, including myself, interpret this to be Boadicea. The Hungarian Halfbreds are war horses, and Boadicea was a red-haired celtic queen known for her prowess in war. Though it's unconfirmed, it makes sense for this horse to be Arthur's Boadicea. Arthur is Dutch's most trusted senior gun. He's the man of action. He's the one Strauss gets to collect the debts because no one else will. He's been raised to be a soldier for Dutch ever since he was first picked up by them. Arthur is War. That is, until his status starts to change within the camp. Micah worms his way in and starts manipulating Dutch into thinking maybe Arthur (among others) isn't what he used to be.

That brings me to the last horseman. Famine. Late in the game in either Chapter 5 or Chapter 6 depending on the order you decide to do things, Arthur gets diagnosed with tuberculosis. After this point, it becomes nearly impossible for him to gain back any weight he's lost because that's what TB does. It ravages the body. That's why it was commonly called consumption back then. He can't eat heavy meals anymore, and he can't even eat a lot of small things all at once without getting into a coughing fit. In chapter 2 when the stables are unlocked, Hosea gives Arthur a black Shire he can either stable or sell. Famine rides a black horse.