#THIS IS DUCH A MOMENT

[sticcmann]

Next time we’re cel shading him

[basslinegrave]

fuuck darko and emil would be so cute together why do they have to be straight im gonna go fully delusional and say that emil was smiling because darko told him about the nickname before and not because he likes the cop girl. yaoi wins!!

[hauntedeyes]

recorded my bsf and i’s conversation from when we were high as could be and its so interesting

[grugruel]

Saint, or Sinner.

Parings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You've had feelings for Arthur for quite some time now, but little did you know. That he has them for you, too.

After a rowdy night in Valentine, the group flees lawmen and end up in Strawberrys hotel. Whatever will occur?

Word count: 8.9 k

Warnings: Micha being Micah, bar fight/violence, plot with smut, mutual pining, soft Arthur, pinv sex, passionate sex, oral sex (f recieving), praise, pet names (girl, sweetheart), choking, fingering, handjob, creampie, mentioned masturbation.

AN: The words ran away from me, holy shit. It's so much longer than I intended.

Muffled voices argued in the night, soon growing into angry shouts. Rousing me from my sleep, confused, I put my gown on in a hurry. Sleep ridden eyes in a dark tent were not doing me any favors. I pulled the flap to the side and stumbled out of the tent, the voices creating one hell of a commotion.

Just as I did, most of the camp had awoken and joined in on the argument, gladly contributing their own heated opinions on the matter. All except Duch and Arthur, much to my dismay.

My eyes adjusted to the scene before me, the assailants quickly becoming clear. Standing around the campfire, was Micah of course, the center of attention as usual. Stood half shouting at John, who's pot seemed to be boiling over.

Soon after, John unleashed a rant on Micahs stupitidy, throwing in every word he could manage in his steaming anger.

I rolled my eyes, what could that damned fool possibly have done now?

'You piss ridden, moldy rat bastard.' John shouts, seamingly leaving Micah lost for words.

Bill bursts out laughing, slapping his knee at the insult, 'You big fuckin nuthead Micah. . .' He sighs, catching his breath.

Even Hosea snickers, 'Hes right, and that's coming from Bill of all folk.'

I cover my mouth as a giggle leaves my lips, seeing Micah so dumbfounded really sobered my mood. The rest of the girls have a simular reaction.

Micahs eyes narrow on me, 'What are ya' laughing at sweetheart. I ought to teach ya' a lesson.' He snarls, greasy hair hanging over his face.

The camp falls silent, none too appreciative of his choice of words. My mood turn sour again and a chill runs up my spine. The first to call him out was Sadie, 'Someone hold me back.' She spits, Sean stepping in to fo judt that.

Second was Miss Grimshaw, 'The money and now you threathen the girl, have you gone and lost your mind Micah Bell?' disgust evident on her face.

The money? What money?

John took a threatening step toward him, very displeased with Micahs comment, hands forming into fists at his sides. Hosea too, gave him a a bemused look.

'Try anything Bell, and I'll cut your fucking balls off.' I spit, glaring at him, feeling incredible joy in the way his face falls.

Muffled chuckles surround me, 'Thats my Girl.' Sadie laughs, along with a low, approving whistle from Javier.

'Whats goin' on here?' A gruff voice cuts in, looking between me and Micah.

Arthur, flanked by Dutch.

Arthur, shirtless. Flanked by Dutch.

In all my anger, my eyes cant help but sneak a hasty glance at his broad chest. Then quickly averting it, afraid he'd notice. I clear my throat, trying to keep my thoughts in check, 'He threatened me.'

That was enough for Arthur, not doubting me for a second. Fixed himself straight up with murder in his eyes, then walked at the man, readying his fists for a beating.

Butterflies fluttered within me.

Unsurprisingly, Micah cowered. Taking quick cautionary steps backward before Dutch could jump in, throwing his arm in front of Arthur and stopping him in his tracks. John looks at the two men, directing an accusing finger on Micah, 'Not only that, this blasted idiot took our money.'

The moment of joy from Micahs humiliation disappear, turning into anger once again. The camp giving him a mutual glower.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, 'I ought to kill you.' He speaks, gritting his teeth, and takes another firm step forward. Pushing the limits of Dutch's patience, who strengthens the hold on Arthur.

'Surely, there must be a reasonable explanation for this?' Dutchs says, forcing a smile and shooting Micah an expectant look. Giving him an undeserved chance at explaining himself. Although he didn't show it, he too, was bemused.

'Well- I wanted to invest it, make it grow. I just wanted to help the camp.' Micah preached, his voice sleazy and confident. Telling the sure as shit, bull of an excuse as if he was the one to feel sorry for. Despite the circumstances.

Sighing, 'He god damned gamled it all away.' John reveals, looking ready to kill the man himself. The camp erupts into a loud argument once again, everyone getting a piece in.

I sneak a glance at Arthur, his chest rising and falling in big breaths, trying his hardest to stay calm. 'Bastard.' He mutters under his breath, Dutch giving him a quick warning glance.

'Shut!–' a hoarse voice calls out, '–Up!' Dutch yells, and obediently, we all fall silent. 'Theres no use, standin' around screamin'. You fools are attracting unwanted attention.' Dutch says, hands on his hips, 'Who won the funds.'

'Some rich bastard up in Strawberry.' Micahs sly voice cut through the night.

Dutch rubs his forehead in thought, 'Then he can do without it, go back there and grab it.' An exasperated sigh leaving him, 'Arthur, John, Bill, Charles.' He rounds the men up, 'You go there with him.' He turns to go back to his tent, but pauses and shouts, 'And no!–' dragging the words out, '–Deaths!' He looks at Micah, knowing damn well he'd otherwise murder the mans entire family in cold blood, then points to Arthur, 'That means you too, Arthur.' He says, a tired tone to his words. Clearly insinuating that he wanted Micah alive.

Everyone scatters, going back to bed on edge. But I linger, tucked away behind the tentflap. I watch Arthur come back out of his tent, in full get up. Silently praying that'd they'd be alright, that he would be. I did not care what happened to Micah, I hoped the man would get shot right between the eyes. I would personally love to see to it, I hoped Arthurs hatred for the man would get the better of him. Dutch always went way to easy on Micah, I didn't understand it, but something wasn't quite right with it.

Abigail kisses John goodbye, it made me happy to see them back together and all made up. I watch Arthur leave his tent in full get up, then stride past my tent. He gets on his horse with the rest of them, and ride past the treeline of Horseshoe overlook. No doubt berating Micah all the way to Strawberry.

I laid down in my bed, trying my damndest to sleep. But worry was keeping me up, eating away at me. Something didn't feel right.

He'd heard his words to her, him threatening her. Horrifying images cloud his mind, filling him with rage all over again. No doubt things he'd done before. He glanced a glare at the man, ugly mut.

Had Dutch not been there to stop him, Micah would've found his face beaten bloody and Arthur grinning on top of him. Had he not been loyal to the camp, to his people, to Dutch. Micah wouldn't be returning from this trip. He would conveniently get a bullet to his head, or found on the bottom of a valley, beaten unrecognizable before the fall had caused the killing blow.

He didnt want any harm coming to her. He'd never felt this for a woman, not ever. He'd steal glances, admire her when she wasn't looking. Damn well kill for her. She was the light he had needed for so long, her charming smile could shine brighter than any star he'd ever seen.

'You taken a likin' to her, Morgan?'

John raised his head at that, paying closer attention to the conversation, to Arthur. Knowing the possibility of him flying off the handle.

'Shut up if you know what's good for you Micah.' Charles scolded.

He scoffed, 'The day I listen to–' Micha looks Charles up and down, lingering on the color of his skin, 'The likes of you,' he continues, 'Will be my last.' Muttering the last words.

Ignoring him, Charles didn't do as much as raise an eyebrow. Micah did not deserve a reaction.

Micah was black rot, down to his core. Destorying everything he touched. We all knew it, but all aren't so keen to admit it. Dutch was the first person to come to mind, I couldn't understand for the life of me why he was so defensive of the man.

'I can see why.' Micah spoke again, 'Pretty little thing, isn't she?' He looked at Arthur, 'Got a big mouth on her too.'

John looked between the two men, noting the way Arthur fisted his reins, no doubt knuckles turning white under his gloves. Along with the way he kept his head straight ahead, focused on not killing the man, 'Micah, keep her off your tongue.' John warned, 'I don't care for you, but I don't want the heat from Dutch when you're found dead.' His raspy voice referring to him and Arthur.

Charles looked at the men in silent agreement, he preferred staying out of camp conflicts. But she was a woman dear to the camp, touching her would bode ill for any man.

And ad usual, the big idiot doesn't listen, 'Wouldn't mind takin' her for a ride one of these nights.' He said, the self-righteous smile he bore evident even in his tone. There was no need to look at him to know it.

Bill had been staying out of it, but he could feel the anger radiating off of Arthur. Enough to switch sides, hanging back, then stearing his horse up next to Arthur instead of Micah. Just in case a bullet would come flying.

And wouldn't you know it, Arthur reached into his holster and pulled his finest revolver, aiming it at the sorry excuse of a man. All in one quick motion, he'd been labeled as a dangerous for a reason. John sighed, now he'd done it.

Micah, dropped his reins. Raising his hands in the air, keeping a smug expression on his face. But beneath, he was scared witless.

'Strawberry up ahead.' Charles called, not caring much for the action behind him. Killing Micah would only do the camp good, but a gunshot would give their location away.

'Not another word of her.' Arthur began, 'Touch 'er–' He warns, 'And I'll let her kill ya'.' His voice gravelly and threatening, but Micah scoffed at the notion.

The familiar click off a safety lever sounds out, and the color drains from Micahs face.

'House is just up ahead.' Charles cut in, 'I'd suggest you wait wait with this til we got the funds.'

With a final glare, he holsters his gun and rides up to Charles. Clearing a hill, the house comes into view. Arthur sighs, 'Damn it Micah, you didnt tell us this feller had security.'

'You scared of a little fightin' pretty boy?' Micah mocked.

With a scoff from Arthur, they hitch their horses and pull up their bandanas, setting about proving the rumors of the infamouse Van Der Linde gang.

I anxiously checked my father's old pocket watch. It had been a few hours now. I put it down, tried to think of other things, and then picked it up again. Another 5 minutes had passed. Christ. I couldn't bear losing Arthur, John or Charles, god forbid all three of them. Bill could be sweet, but only when he needed something. I couldn't even dare imagine John leaving Abigail and Jack behind. What would they do? Stay with the gang, of course, but. . . Goodness, what about Arthur? My thoughts were racing ahead of me.

A few more minutes pass, then I hear hoofbeats, relief flods through me. It's hard to count, but theres at least three horses. God, let it be the right three. I emerge from my tent, along with Miss Grimshaw, Abigail, the rest of the girls, and Dutch. I race up to Abigail, holding eachothers hands as we watch the treeline in silence. Relying on each other for support.

Eventually, they break through. All five horses returning with their men on top of them, secretly I curse. One of the could've gotten lost and the world would've been a better place for it. I stroke Abigails back while John sees to his horse, then walks up to us, taking her in his arms and spinning her in a circle. They laugh, and a tinge of jealousy spark inside me. Yet I'm more than happy for them.

I observe the rest of them, they seem to be unharmed. All except. . . Arthur, his white shirt covered in blood. The terror must've been evident on my face, because–

'Hes fine.' John spoke, 'Most of it aint even his.' He said in an effort to calm me.

I nodded, smiling faintly 'Thank you John.' And sqeezed his arm.

'Well–' Dutch called out, 'How'd it go?' He looked at them, expecting nothing but grandeur.

'We got more than we bargained for. . ' John said, grinning. But there was something else his tone.

Bill unloaded his horse and came carrying several saddlebags, throwing them at our feet, money spilling out 'We got what we came for—' He paused, then pulled out two more bags from vehind his back, 'And more!' He burst out in a self-satisfied laugh.

I had to say, they made the best out of a bad situation. And on top of it all, Micah had barely made a sound, he was strangely quiet.

Dutch patted Bill and John on the back, 'Good work, wake the rest. Let us celebrate!' He clapped his hands together, no doubt imagining Tahiti.

I searched for him in the crowd of people as the camp was waking up, and found him talking to Charles and Sadie at the edge of the camp, clutching his side. Worry gnawed at me. They joined us by the campfire while Arthur headed into his tent, not saying much of nothing to anyone else.

The festivities carried out throughout the night, Arthurs lamp remained turned on. Eventually, I just had to check up on him.

I snuck away from the folk, Abigail and John had already turned in, as had Dutch and Molly. Seemed like the singles were the only ones left drinking, and Micah had disappeared to sulk somewhere. Lucky us.

I left them to it and approached his tent, 'Arthur?' I called, but didn't get an answer. I just heard some huffing from the inside.

I risked his reaction and pulled the flap to the side, 'Arth-' I began, but got cut off by the sight. In front of me was Arthur Morgan, shirt pushed up over his stumache, cowboy hat on, stitching up his own wound. Sitting on a stool, his pants were unbuttoned and folded down by the hip, revealing that beautiful "V" shape along with a happy trail of hair leading down toward, well. . . A new cut stretched from his hip to his abdomen, blood covered his hands and side, groaning as he pulled a needle through his skin. Something set off inside me, a yearning that made my body ache. He scarcely even noticed me, not until I gasped.

He looked up, eyes widening, 'You need somethin' Girl?' He blurted out, taken off guard. His state of undress did not help.

'Arthur Morgan. . .' I sighed, slightly offended, 'You shouldve fetched me, you know im good at stitchin' wounds.'

'I know, I know. 'm sorry sweetheart.' smiling faintly, 'Didnt wanna bother you.' He drawled.

I also noticed a mostly empty bottle of whiskey next to him, hoping he used most of it to disinfect the wound. I put my hands on my hips, 'Will you let me help?'

He nodded and handed me the needle, fingers brushing against eachother as I grabbed it.

Our eyes met, briefly. Sharing a glance that was ment to be stolen.

He leaned back against his dresser, the muscle of his upper body changing and rippling with his movements.

I cleared my throat and stepped closer, 'May I?' I asked, pointing at his shirt.

'You may.' He smirked.

I leaned closer to him, unbuttoning from top to bottom. Then pushing the shirt over his shoulder so it'd stay clear from his wound. I kneeled in front of him, his legs spread so I could get closer to the cut, then resting my elbows on his strong thigh to steady my arms.

I tried to focus on the wound, but it proved hard as I was so close to his crotch and how closely he was observing me.

'Might I ask what happened?' I bit my lip in focus, threading the needle through his skin.

'More men than expected.' He answered with a grunt, looking at my lips. Blood rushing somewhere it ought not to, 'One jumped out on me.' He continued, his voice husky and strained.

'He live to tell the tale?' I asked, searching his gaze. Hoping he'd be sincere.

'He did. . .' He groaned, as I finished another stitch. Making the aching settle in my core, a pulse running through me. Every now and then, when I believed him not to be looking. My eyes roamed his chest, studying his strong pecks and biceps.

'You know anything about Micahs sudden tongue-tie?' I ask, locking eyes with him. He lowers his head with a chuckle, a smirk poking out from under his hat.

'I might've. . . Given him something to think about.' He shrugs, the corner of his lip tugging.

Sighing, a smile spreads over my lips 'Youre a good man, Arthur Morgan.' I told him earnestly, 'Better than most.' I finished the last stitch and looked at him, 'All d-' I began, but he cut me off.

His lips greeting mine in a passionate kiss, lasting a whole second. But it was the best second I'd had in years. He pulled back, a horrified look on his face. Immidietly regretting it.

Surprised, I did not quite know what to say. 'Arthur, Im- You- You're drunk. .' I blurted, thinking it was the alcohol taking action. Nothing else.

'I'm–' He looked at me, searching for words 'You're right, I- I probably am. Apologies miss.' He managed.

I cursed myself, why'd he have to be drunk? He'd never remember that this even happened tomorrow.

'No- no. That's fine, don't worry. I didnt-' I tried, I didn't mind it. In fact I loved it, is that so hard to say? 'I should, uhm- let you sleep, you need to rest.' Idiot.

'I s'pouse so.' Was all he said, shock and regret still lingering between us.

'Well, good night. . . Mr Morgan.' I said, and he winced. Quickly, I took my leave.

'Night ma'am.' He called after me.

It felt like fleeing the scene of a crime. Bashing myself for the the formal good night, we were way past such pleasantires. It felt like a blow to even utter the words, even though I usually call him Mr Morgan. But it's always in a teasing way. Never formal and distant like this was.

Goodness gracious, what had I done?

I tucked myself under the covers in my own tent, thoughts circling my mind. I could not tear myself away from the smell of him, his musk, his broad build. Or the way sweetheart sounded as it rolled of his tongue, the way his tongue felt against my own. A hand snaked between my thighs, relieving myself of the ache he'd caused. Then slowly, I drifted off to sleep. With nothing but him on my mind.

You god damned fool Arthur, why'd you have scare her away? Old bastard, he thought to himself. Seeing her by his tent had startled him, but her gentle touch and sweet voice was all the comfort he'd needed. It took the sting right out of the needle. He'd used the bottle to clean the wound, but letting her think he was drunk was easier than the truth.

He'd took a liking to her from the moment he laid eyes on her, but she would never feel the same way. She'd called him Mr Morgan, as if the last year of building a relation with her had disintigrated within a second. It stung, real bad. Worse than a knife ever would. Yet that kiss made it all worth it her soft lips against his, her sweet taste. Feeling her breath on his skin as she undid his buttons, and seein' you like that? Kneeling between his legs, so close to him. It was a memory he would cherish through thick and thin, a memory that would keep him up at night. A memory that made him hard in an instant, he let out a frustrated groan. Silenty taking care of it, pretty images of her occupying his mind as he did. Finally, he began drifting off to sleep. And he only had one thing on his mind. She'd called him a good man, that's all that mattered to him.

A week passed, and we'd had a few shallow interactions. Nothing serious, but resembling the akwardness we experienced in his tent, it made my heart sore. I always found a reason to talk to him, to be near him. So when to opportunity arrived once again, I jumped on it. We'd had a full day of chores, but needed to head into Valentine for a supply run, to stock up on things like ammo and vegetables. And just generally take a look around town, see what else we could find. But I don't have a horse of my own, and since Lenny and Sean were taking the wagon.

I found myself in need of a ride.

The sun had begun its final stretch before setting, meaning the light was golden and beautiful. The warm spring air was gradually turning chilly, but in the most soothing way. I joined the crew by the horses, 'Who's willin' to give a lady a ride.' I asked coyly.

Arthurs mouth fell open, as if he was about to speak, but quickly closed it again. 'I always got space for you, girl.' Sadie winked.

'Stop that. . You ol' charmer.' I smile shyly. Arthur couldn't help but smile, nothing but admiration I'm his eyes for you.

'Well-' Micah began, and I immediately rolled my eyes. Arthur glaring daggers at him.

'Shut it, and shave that overgrown squirell off your face.' Sadie interrupted him, Sean erupting into laughter at the comment.

'Why are we even bringin' him? We don't need that kind of trouble today.' I pointed out.

'Cause I say so, sweetheart.' He leers, smugness radiating off of him.

My stumache churns, my dinner almost catching its second wind, 'Dont call me that.' I turn serious.

Micah laughs, about to respond-

'You heard her.' Arthur stops him, making him reconsider opening his mouth again. Instead he opts to mutter under his breath, no doubt the most vile and cruel things too.

John joins us to help get the wagon in order, then sen dus off. Changing the subject back, 'Arthur got the most space.' John points out, 'I'm sure he wouldn't mind.' He winks at me subtly, and I blush. John Marston, you godsend.

'That okay with you Arthur?' I ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

'Course, c'mon sweetheart.' He jumps out of the saddle, grabs me by the waist, and helps me onto his tall, dark shire.

I yelp, unprepared for his strength. He gets back on, placing himself behind me, then grabs the reins on either side of me, capturing me in his big frame. I can honestly say, that I've never felt safer. A content smile covers my lips.

Sadie chuckles at the two of us, the chuckle turning into pure laughter when she sees Micahs expression. Gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, glaring at us, probably furious by my blatant approval of Arthurs use of sweetheart.

And with that, we begin our journey into town. Lenny and Sean were singing behind us, Sadie leading the way ahead of us. And Micah? I didn't bother finding out where he was.

Feeling Arthurs warmth behind me was all I cared about, his chest and thighs rubbing up against me with every step of his horse. It was doing something to me.

As the sun dove deeper, the cool in the air grew. Involuntary shivers took ahold of my body, 'You cold, girl?' He asked.

I shook my head, 'No, I'll be fine. Thank you though, Arthur.' My voice hackig as a particularly violent shiver shook my body, making my teeth clattered against eachother.

'Dont you lie to me, you're freezin'.' He says, worry lacing his tone, 'Take the reins.' That was an order.

I did and his hands slid between us, unbuttoning his jacket. Knuckles brushing against my back, all the way along my spine, ending at the arch of my back. Sending shivers in waves all over my body. 'Scooch down.' He orders again. Slightly hesitant, I slide backward. My ass tucked neatly again his crotch and my back flush again his chest. With his jacket still on, he wraps it around my sides, nearly covering my entire upper body. Sharing eachothers heat, trapping it between us.

'Arthur. .' I breathe, lust coursing through me. But it must've sounded as a protest because-

'-Dont start.' He said, 'My jacket is big enough for the both of us. Now hand me the reins, darlin.'

Oh you wonderful, oblivious man.

I gave them back to him and tugged his jacket closer around me, leaning impossibly closer to him. Gradually, my shivers disappeared, all thanks to the large, warm bear of a man behind me.

'See? Told ya'.' His body shook gently with a silent chuckle.

'You're somethin' else Mr Morgan.' I sighed and this time, the words felt right.

He smiled, she didnt see it, thankfully. Everything she did, made him smile. She was so close to him, and he had indirectly caressed her back. He could've leaned back and given her space, but he craved her. It was intimate and special. He'd not felt so peaceful since she stitched him up last week. Everything he did was at her service. Now she sat between his legs, grinding up against him. Not to her knowledge though, she just moved her hips to the step of the horse, riding like a woman should. But unbeknownst to her, she was feeding a hunger he fought hard to contain. Head in the lions mouth and all.

'Whats on that mind of yours Arthur?' She asked, 'I can feel you thinkin' from 'ere.' Shuddering against him, is she still cold?

If she only knew, what was goin' through his mind. How he thought of you every waking moment, a sentiment she would never return.

'Nothin' special, you still feelin' cold? I can feel you shiverin' Girl.'

She froze for a second before she spoke, chuckling under her breath, 'No I ain't cold, but thank you again.' He could hear the smile on her lips.

What was it then?

'Is the cut heelin' good?' She asked, concern and something else lingering in her voice. The memory resurfaced in his mind, his blood setting about rushing places. He shut his eyes, trying to clean his mind before he answered. Clearing his throat first, 'Good, 'is gonna be a nice 'n clean scar.' His voice lightly strained.

'Well, I'm glad. You got enough of em' for my liking.' She huffed, annoyed at the notion of him always hurting himself.

He risked it, and leaned his head forward, almost touching her shoulder but not quite. Breathing in that sweet scent of hers. Telling himself that it wasn't such a strange thing to do. 'I'll survive, I always do. With your fine stitchin' It's impossibly not to.'

She blushed, turning her face away from his, a bit shy at his compliment. He loved the way her cheeks turned rosy, 'Thank you.' She said proudly, another shudder against him.

Damn it, wad she still cold or not?

He opted out of asking again. She'd just tell him no. So he took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He moved the reins into one hand and circled the other around her waist, pulling her closer. Figuring he could blame it on rough terrain, that he didn't want her to hurt her pretty self.

But she didn't protest, on the contrary. She made a sound, almost like she exhaled a moan under her breath. Then grabbed his thigh, rough terrain too, perhaps? 'Arthur. . .' She breathed.

'I apologise miss, I shouldn't ha–' He began.

'No, no. You should've.' Firm in her words. 'You, remember much from last week?' She asked.

'I do.' He breathed, a nervous shake to his voice.

'You werent drunk?'

'No ma'am.' He answered truthfully, 'I lied.'

'Why?' There was hurt in her voice, and something broke inside of him.

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, afraid he'd hurt her more, 'Thought maybe it'd be best, since I stepped over a line.'

She scoffed, 'You didn't step over anything, Mr Morgan.'

'Well I. . .' He paused, 'You didnt seem to like it, thats all. Didnt want you to think I was takin' advantages.' He rambled an explanation.

'I didn't want to take advantage of you Mr Morgan.' She sounded annoyed, annoyed by this whole missunderstanding, 'Didnt want you kissin' me drunk, if it was, just cause you were drunk.' She explained, 'I thought you were drunk. . .' sighing.

Puzzle pieces were finally falling into place for the both of them.

'We're here!' Sadie called from the front.

Dissapointed, I sighed. Yet, relieved, I smiled.

Arthur jumped off, grabbed my waist and helped me down. His touch lingering as our eyes met, searching eachothers gazes for answers. Wondering, where to go from here. We were finally on the same page, and knowing he kissed me from his own free will put a sping in my step.

The group broke up, I headed with Sadie as the men got about their business. We looked at the guns first and foremost, then headed for the general store. I looked for Arthur as we walked from building to building, and saw him heading into the stables. I wondered if he was gonna treat himself to a new saddle. He deserved it.

We went about our list of things to buy, then gathered by the wagon. Collectively, we decided on a bar run before we rode back to camp. Lenny and Sean were particularly excited about the idea.

We ordered whiskey, drank and laughed. Sadie and Lenny stood between me and Arthur, resulting in a whole lot of meaningful glances. Just wishing we could talk some more.

At some point a woman had approached Arthur, laying her hand on his bicep, clearly flirting. And my blood ran cold.

I stood talking with Sean, who noticed my change in demeanour and looked over at them. 'Dont worry yourself girl.' He laughed, and I furrowed my brows. Not sure what he ment.

'You gonna buy a lady a drink?' The woman asked, her voice sultry. Now, my blood boiled.

Arthur chuckeled, 'I didnt know I was talking to a lady.' And glanced at her hand, which she immediately retracted upon noticing.

She scoffed, 'Aint that a nice way to treat a woman. You taken cowboy?' She asked, her eyes narrowing on him.

'Well. . .' He huffed, 'You could say that.'

My heart swelled at his comment.

'Told ye so.' Sean smirked, and I playfully hit him on the shoulder.

The night went on, and as most nights go in a saloon, a fight was bound to happen. Arthur must've been watching me, because within the next half minute. A man had walked up next to me, and was about to touch what wasnt his to touch. But Arthur appeared out of nowhere, his outlaw instics mustve been on high alert. The man did in fact look sleezy enough to attempt such a thing, Arthur grabbed the mans wrist in a bone breaking grib. 'You keep your hands to yourself mister.' He said, his voice low and threatening.

'Or what?' The man spit, and Arthur let go of him. Lowering his head, chuckling. That shouldve been the mans warning, but he didn't know Arthur like we did.

Backing me up, Sean whispered 'Get ready.' to Sadie, Lenny and me. Nodding to a table of thugs in the corner, they were staring at our group intently, watching the scene unfold.

Arthur jerked his head to the side and smirked under his hat, then in flash he gave the man a lethal right hook. Sending him flying backward. The thugs sprung up, heading for us with firm steps.

Holy shit. A full on brawl broke out, everyone lunged themselves on everyone. I delivered a right hook of my own as two guys were ganging up on Lenny. Another man tried getting handsy with me, he snuck up behind me and grabbed me around the waist. So I elbowed him hard in the side and threw my head back. Headbutting him, I turned around and pushed him off me. Taking great joy in the way his nose was gushing blood, I grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the crotch. With a whine, the man fell to the ground.

Even Micah joined in on the action, he'd been sitting still enjoying his whiskey beside us. Until he decided he wanted some fun too, apparently only he could be inappropriate with me. He smashed the glass over the head on the closest man, although im pretty sure he wasn't even apart of the brawl.

As the dust was settling and the lawmen had been called, we flew the coup. Arthur grabbed my hand and rushed us to our horses, not willing to risk leading the law back to camp, we rode hard and fast for Strawberry. Arthur was making a fuss about me on the ride there, asking if I was ok, and I assured him I was. 'Well. . . You got one hell of a hook girl.' He said, and I beamed with pride.

The gang had to act casual as we arrived to Strawberry, which proved futile with cuts and bruises as we asked for hotel rooms. But we ended up conning our way into possession of the last three hotel rooms. Bribing the clerk that is.

Arthur grabbed a key of his own, which nobody disputed. He gave me a meaningful look at and headed upstairs. Sadie grabbed a key and dragged me along with her. Leaving the last three men to argue about sharing a room, 'Shut up Micah, you're sleeping in the hall.' Sean shouted behind us. Turning around, I saw Micah slamming the doors open and storming out.

'I'll find a woman to warm me, dont ya' worry.' He shouted back, muttering under his breath.

We burst out laughing and ran to our room, but before we headed in, I grabbed her arm 'I'm just gonna go check on Arthur real quick.' I said, not thinking much of it.

'I'll not see you til the morning then.' She laughed, our stolen glances had apparently not been so stolen after all.

I rolled my eyes, 'We'll see.' And knocked on his door.

Lenny and Sean walked by, a low whistle accompanied by chuckles as they saw me standing there. But they quickly turned quiet when Arthur opened the door, standing in only his shirt and pants 'May I come in?' I asked, giving him my best puppy eyes.

'Course.' He smirked, and opened the door wider, stepping out of my way. My side brushing against him as I entered. His vest and jacket lay discarded on the bed, along with his hat.

'About before-' I began, my back turned to him. Suddenly feeling his hands slide onto my waist, pulling me into him. I gasped, not expecting it. He leaned into my shoulder, lips gracing my neck, all the way up to my ear. The warmth of his breath fanning over my skin, making me boil on the inside. It made it difficult to think.

'I want you darlin', all of ya'.' He whisperes, 'If you'll have me–' pausing to place a gentle kiss between my ear and jaw, '–'M tired off missunderstandin's.'

In a haze, I turn around and lay my hands on his chest, having to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. I reach one hand to caress his cheek, brushing at his stubble 'So am I.'

He leans into my delicate touch, nuzzling my hand and placing a soft peck on my palm.

One of his hands sinks its fingertips into the flesh at my hip as the other grabs my arm softly, sliding his hand up to my wrist, gently holding it as he places another kiss there, right on my pulse point. His lips linger, feeling my rapid heartbeat. Gently, he experiments. Sucking and pecking the spot.

A deep ache settles in my bones, fortifying with every kiss he places, deepening with every beat of my heart. And for a second, he feels it too. Meeting my eyes with a smirk, he pulls my sleeve up to cover more ground. Immidietly I feel that my clothes are weighing me down, 'Arthur.' I whisper.

'Hmm?' He hums, focused on kissing what skin he has access to.

Clearing my throat, 'Will you–' I breathe, 'Help me unbutton?'

His eyes meet mine again, searching my gaze for certainty. 'I'll spend the rest of my days doin' your biddin' if it makes you happy girl.'

'It would–' I say, and his hands move to my ribcage, pulling me into his frame. His face an inch from mine as his hands snake around my back, making quick work of each button without batting an eye. 'Oh—' I gasp, surprised by his practiced fingers. 'Should I be jealous?' I ask under my breath.

'No ma'am, none could compete with you.' He assures me.

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, and in the same moment, he finishes with the last button. Stroking his knuckles over the bare skin along my spine, and sighs. Content. As a shuddering breath leaves me.

Arthur wonders for but a second if shes cold again, until he realises.

'You werent cold, were ya'?'

Immedietly getting what hes reffering to, 'In the begginin' I was.' I tell him truthfully, 'Youre wonderfully clueless sometimes, especially for such a experienced man.'

He chuckles, 'You tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered for me?'

'You were rubbin' against me, pullin' me close. How could I not be?'

'I wasnt–' He protests, '–You were on me if anythin'.'

'Oh so youre tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered then?' I throw his words back at him, smirking happily while doing it.

Arthurs mouth opens and closes, unable to think of a comeback.

'Thats what I thought.'

He scoffs a smile, pushing my blouse off of me, leaving me in my undergarments.

His hands move to my arms, sliding upwards, leaving prickled skin in their abscence. He trails them over my collarbones and neck, his eyes following every inch of movement.

I lay my hands on his hips, holding onto him as my knees grow weeker by the second.

Forming his hands into loose fists, he caresses my cheeks with the backs if his fingers. Gently brushing the knuckles over my cheekbones, pushing strands of hair from my face in the same motion. He flattens his hands and cup my face, big hands draping around the sides of my head. Pulling me closer, he leans into my space. Meeting in the middle, his lips ghost over mine.

My breath hitches when he kisses me softly, his thumbs stroking my temples in soothing motions.

I grab onto his shirt, fisting and lightly pulling on the fabric. Arousal taking the reins completley, making it hard to think. I look at him with hazy eyes, admiration clouding every sense I have. '. . 'S your turn mister.' I breathe.

Smiling, he continues kissing me, 'At your pleasure ma'am.'

With a pleased hum, I trace my hands up his abdomen and over his chest, and Arthur groans in response. The aching pulse in my body stiffens at the sound, becoming more compressed. More focused in my core. Kissing him, I easily unbutton his shirt, making quick work of it, and slide it over his shoulders. Now hooked on his arm folds, it hangs around the small of his back. I sigh happily, what a sight it was.

'You expercied taking men's shirt's off?' He jokes, laughing. Then moves his hands to my waist, clawing softly at my skin.

I slide my arms around his neck, up into his hair. Scrathing his scalp tenderly, 'Well–' I begin, but he bites my lip suddenly, warning me. I yelp, accidently pulling on his hair, and a whine escapes him. My core dripping at the sound as I release a shuddering breath, '. .'M a woman Arthur, I have needs.'

'Yeah?' He questions, 'You needin' right now, woman?' The gruffness in his voice making my fingers curl.

'I am. .' Whining, my kisses turn needy, 'I need you Arthur, always.' I moan.

At that he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his embrace, his fingers digging into my flesh. He kissed me, hard. Hard like he might just die if let's me go.

'Skirt. . .' mumbling against me, 'Needs to go.' He manages. Without another word, I snake my hands behind my back, untying my skirt a let it fall to the floor. Arthur walks forward, forcing me back until my chins hit the bed and we fall onto it. He puts his weight on me, although supported by his forearms. 'Pants.' He orders, but I was already one step ahead. My hands already moving quickly to undo the buttons on his pants as hes kissing his way down my jaw and neck. Focusing on my sweet spot, hes sucks bruises, turning me into a moaning mess under every breath. Meanwhile, I shove my hand into his boxers. He grunts and shoves his forehead into the crook of my neck as I palm him, overwhelmed by my long lusted for touches. His member was already harder than a rock, and leaking juices. I bring my thump to his tip, stroking his seed in circles. He groans breathely into my neck, his warm breath causing further heat to pool in core. He leans onto one arm, sliding the other along the curves of my body. Cupping my breast through my brasier, 'I want to look at you sweetheart.' He groans and unfolds his arm so that hes above me to meet my eyes, 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, voice pleading.

I nod, '. . 'Course.'.

Waisting no time, he snakes one hand under my back and lifts me up. I gasp, always surprised by his strength. 'Please, ma'am.' He begs, and I take the hint. My hand leaves his his member and move around my back, undoing the brasier. Throwing it on the floor, he sighs in relief, 'Wanted to see ya' for so long.' He breathes, lowering me back onto the bed and himself onto of me. Immidietly taking one breast into his mouth, and palms the other. Squeezing them, playing with my nipples, using teeth, tounge and fingers. Automatically, my back arches. Pushing my abdomen against his, and accidentally making my mound rub against his crotch. He hums under his breath, his hand leaving my breast and slowly slides down my body, then pulls his mouth off of my breast with a pop. 'Now.' He whispers, kissing his way up to my jaw, then leveling his head with mine, 'Wanna se all of ya'.' his free hand cups my cunt. I gasp from the sudden touch, there's no friction, no movement, yet the aching grows stronger from the warmth of his palm alone. I shut my eyes, trying to come up with an answer. But the presence of him takes up my entire mind, all I can manage is a nod.

Not satisfied, he pushes his palm firmly against my core. 'Look at me girl.' He orders, sliding his middle finger over my slit, undergarments creating a barrier. Making my wetness soak into them, and he chuckles when he feels it. Whimpering, I open my eyes to look at him, and he smirks, 'Good girl.' And plants a kiss on my jaw, 'Use your words this time.' He pecks my lips, then slides his finger over my clit. Lately circling it through the fabric, I swallow hard. Jolts of pleasure surge through my body as something finally gives. 'Want. . . You.' I manage.

'Yeah?' He breathes, and I nod. To which he raises his brows, and pushes two fingers against my core in warning.

Another jolt, '!Mmm, meanin'. . .' Humming a stutter, 'Yes–' I pause, '–Please Arthur. I- I want you.'

'Atta girl.' He praises, then begins trailing kisses down my chest, over my nipple and abdomen, ending at my mound, right above my clit.

My back arches, 'Please. .' I whisper, pleading with him. He pushes back, shakes his already half off shirt completley off, and his pants follow. My eyes go wide at the size of him, hello cowboy.

His hands slide up my thighs, giving reassuring squeezes until he gets ahold of my undergarments. Hooking his fingers under them, he gently slides them off, and the both of us gasp. 'Beautiful.' He murmurs, admiring me. Then bends down, kissing his way up my inner thigh. Winding his arms under my legs and grabbing my waist, then hovers over my cunt, giving me one last look before diving in.

He licks one long stripe up my folds, gathering my wetness on his tongue. Then attaches himself to my clit, generously sucking and circling his tongue around it. I'd been on edge since the night in the tent, hyper sensitive from always wanting him, and finally feeling him on me? It's purely magical, I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming when he shoves two fingers inside me. Thrusting in and out, curling with every withdrawal. I was already close, 'Arthur, 'm so close.' I moan.

He nods, furthering the movement of his tongue, 'Tell me what ya' needin' girl.' He mumbles against my folds, the vibrations of his voice deepness have me gripping my sheets, clawing it them like a wild animal.

'Need you, need you in me.' I blurt out.

He laughs, 'Im already in you sweetheart.' Causing my back to arch again, oh sweet, sweet vibrations. I throw my head back into the pillow, and his hand slides from my hip to my lower abdomen, 'Be good and lay still now.' Then pushing down with his palm. That combined with his fingers, were– were enough. . .

Blinding pleasure surges through me as I come on his fingers, walls clenching, fluids flowing. I breathe heavily as he laps it up, 'In me Arthur, please.' I whine.

'Youre gonna have to be clearer girl.'

I loose my patience, 'Christ, Arthur! I need you cock in me.'

He smirks, 'Well why didnt you just say so?' His hands push my legs over his shoulders and he climbs on top of me, face to face, he kisses me passionately. Tasting of salt.

His tip graces my entrance, 'You sure, aint you?' He asks, kissing my jaw.

I bury my hand in his hair, 'Mmh, 'm sure.' And with that, pushes inside me. A breathy moan leaves our mouths simultaneously.

'Feelin' just as sweet as you taste sweetheart.' He whispers against my jaw, nuzzling his nose into my cheek and forehead against temple. The pulls out, to the tip, and shoves himself back in. Hard and passionate, he sets perfect pace. Rocking our bodies with every thrust, going deeper than I ever thought to be possible.

'Christ.' I groan, he's hitting that spot inside me with every motion. One hand moves though his back, scratching at it loosely, pulling on hip to get him even deeper. He grunts, in my ear. Might aswell be music, wouldnt be able to tell a difference. He snakes one hand up my torso, grabbing my throat gently and squeezing just enough. Brushing his thumb over my my jugular. Outlaw indeed.

I pull on his hair, to level his face with mine, I wanted his lips, his tongue. 'Kiss me cowboy.' I order, and he follows.

Kissing me deeply, in rhythm with his thrusts, In rhythm with the aching that was finally dulling in my body. Finally, I had I'm. Truly had him. Bliss flows through me as the knot in my stumache tightens, on the verge of my second orgasm. And telling by Arthurs thrusts, he wasn't far away either. In a few more thrusts we both topple over with a breathy moans, Arthur whispering, 'Good girl.' Over and over as his seed was filling me to the brim, seeping out around his member as he collapses on me. My legs falling to the bed. We gather our breaths in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the closeness of the other.

He lays and arm around me, pulling me close as we fall asleep. Both thinking of the other, just not having to imagine what holding the other would feel like anymore.

At some point during the night, Arthur had rolled me off of his arm and snuck out. I was to tired to think much of it, especially since he returned shortly after. By morning I had all but forgotten it, brushing it off as a dream.

As we got dressed and ready the next day, I handed Arthur his hat. He took it, but looked at me, 'Put it on, wanna see you in something of mine.' He says, smiling.

'Gladly.' I chirp, and put it on.

His smile slants, turning into a smirk, 'Now, girl. You know what that means don't you?'

'Why'd you think I was glad to put it on. If not just to tell Micah to shove it.' I chuckle.

'It suits ya' He ruffles my hair with the hat.

We walked out and fetch our horses, the grup giving us mixed looks as the spot us. Arthurs hat declaring to the public of his intentions, that I was his and that we would have a busy night. Sadie smirked knowingly, winking at me. While Sean and Lenny looked happy for us, Micah was the only one who glowered.

'I got a surprise.' He says as he saddles his shire.

'Yeah, whats that?' I tilt my head.

He nods to Sean who runs off, I quirk my eyebrow at Arthur, 'Whats all this?' I ask.

'You'll see, keep your eyes peeled sweetheart.'

Eventually, Sean comes back into view, leading a horse I don't recognize. A beautiful mustang, tan coat, and white forhead. I don't connect the dots at first, 'Sean got a new horse?' I ask, confused.

'Now why would I surprise you with a new horse for Sean?' He asks, chuckling. And the pieces snap into place.

'For me?' I ask, dumbfounded. A million questions circling my head.

'Got her yesterday, had Sean ride and get her earlier this morning. Since I was. . . Occupied.' He smirks.

'That's why you snuck out in the night, then?'

He hums, 'Mhm.'

'Well I'll be. . Arthur Morgan, thank you.' I smile, hugging him. He wraps his arm around me, holding me tightly, afraid I'd otherwise slip away.

'. .'S nothing.' He pecks my cheek, 'Go meet her.'

As we arrived back to camp, we got busy. Late into the night we spent in Arthurs tent, defining the meaning of cowgirl.

The next few hours we rode next to eachother on our way back to camp, flirting and laughing as Saint and I got used to eachother.

[vivwritesfics]

Roosters Girl

Roosters life is bliss. He had his own house, had the dog he had dreamed of owning since he was a child, was married to his soulmate and they were expecting a baby. This is a glimpse into a day off for him.

Waking up next to Bradley wasn't easy. He had his limbs completely wrapped around her own, holding her close, reluctant to let her go.

But waking up was a necessity. She untangled herself from his hold and slipped out of the bed. The cold air bit at her naked body and she was quick to get changed into a shirt of his and a pair of his sweatpants. On days that they were home the two of them enjoying each other, she rarely wore her own clothes.

She walked out of the bedroom, trudging along as sleep still gripped her. "Hey, Duch," she said to the Rottweiler as she passed her.

Duch, who's full name was Duchess, raised her head ever so slightly. She shook herself, as if to wake up, and followed her mom into the kitchen.

While her mom made a coffee, Duchess went out into the garden. She did her business and came back inside, sitting at her moms feet. "Bradley will be up to walk you soon," she whispered as she scratched the top of Duchess's head.

There was no movement from the bedroom. She checked the time on the oven clock (which was an hour behind) and sighed. Nine thirty, Bradley would be kicking himself if he knew he had slept in this late. "C'mon," she whispered and made her way back to the bedroom, Duchess hot on her tail.

"Bradley," she whispered, placing the half full cup of coffee on the bedside table. (It was the perfect height for Duchess to knock over and, with the rate she was wagging her tail, it was inevitable. She placed it on a much taller cabinet instead).

In her absence, her husband had stretched himself across the bed, star fishing out. His legs were spread out and his head was on her pillow. His muscular back was stretched out before her and light snores left his lips. "Come on, my love," she said gently, but he still snored.

Duchess jumped onto the bed. The sheer force of that alone was enough to wake Bradley up. His eyes fly open and he stared up at his wife.

He attempted to wish her good morning. But Duchess got in there before he did. She licked all over his face as Bradley tried desperately to get away.

When, at last, he sat up, Duchess backed off. She settled down onto the bed beside him, her tail thumping against the headboard. "Good morning, pretty girl," he said, his voice groggy.

She grabbed her coffee from the cabinet, readying herself to take a sip, but Bradley reached for it. He took it from her hands and who was she to stop it? "Does her majesty need to go out?" He asked, passing the cup back to her and wiping the coffee away from his moustache with the back of his hand.

She nodded her head and Bradley climbed out of bed. In an instant he had her wrapped in his arms, his lips against hers. "Good morning," she whispered to him as she pressed her forehead to his.

"Good morning," he whispered back and kissed her again.

Bradley got dressed. In a matter of minutes he had Duchess in her harness, with her lead attached, and was kissing his wife goodbye as he headed to the front door.

Any excuse to kiss her, she had come to realise. But Bradley really didn't need an excuse. She'd kiss him any time, any place, no matter what.

As she waited for Bradley to return, she started on breakfast. She buttered the toast and cooked the eggs for herself and Bradley, filling up Duchess's bowl, ready for the moment they walked through the door.

Duchess's first walk of the morning, when it was just a walk, was always the shortest. Most mornings it would be a run, with Bradley setting the pace. But, on mornings like this, when he just wanted to get back to his wife, he kept it to a short walk. He'd take Duchess out again later.

No more than fifteen minutes after they had left, Bradley and Duchess were walking back through the door. "Hey, pretty girl," he called at the sight of her sitting there, waiting for him. He took off Duchess's harness and hung it up on the coat rack before making his way to her.

As soon as he had reached her, Bradley stooped to press a gentle kiss to her lips. She shut her eyes and grabbed the back of her neck, holding him there until he had to pull away for air.

"Are you still up for The Hard Deck, later?"

Bradley hadn't joined his fellow navy pilots at the Hard Deck for a good month now. Ever since they found out that they were expecting, Bradley had spent every spare moment with her.

She nodded, leaning against him. Bradley placed his head on her stomach, on her non-existent bump. He let out a moan as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. His eyes opened her and he looked up at her with a dopey smile on his face. "I love you."

She leaned down and kissed him. "I love you," she said.

They spent their morning out in the garden. Bradley was with Duchess, throwing a ball across the garden and calling for to bring it back.

As they played, she was by the flowerbed, digging up those that had died and replacing them, ready for the summer. Music played quietly from her phone and she hummed along as she gardened.

They were just filling the day, finding things to do together until they headed off to The Hard Deck.

An hour before they were showering together. Bradley ran the loofa over her skin, his touches delicate. They were always delicate and soft now, ever since they found out they were going to be pregnant.

It didn't take Bradley very long to get ready. He put on his usual Hawaiian shirt and groomed his moustache, and then he was ready. So, he sat on the bed, watching as she got ready.

"Fucking hell, you're gorgeous," he said as he watched her apply mascara.

She looked at him in the mirror. Her husband, her wonderful husband. When he found out he was going to be a father, he was so happy. He picked her up and spun her around before placing her back down and kissing her. "You're carrying my baby," he whispered, his forehead against his.

Bradley was meant to be a father. They hadn't spoken about having kids before the positive pregnancy test, but they hadn't exactly been careful.

When she was ready to go, her back on her shoulder, Bradley wrapped his arm around her and led her out of the house to the Bronco. He couldn't wait for her to start showing.

Bradley hadn't been all that clingy before they found out they were expecting. He'd been loving, but not clingy. But now, he couldn't even drive without having a hand on her. And she loved every second of it.

When they walked into The Hard Deck, hangman was the first to notice them. "Rooster's got his girl," he said and took a swig of his beer.

Bradley held their hands as they walked over. He stood behind her, his arms around her as he greeted his fellow aviators. Nat was usually the happiest to see them, and this was no exception.

As usual, Hangman was flirting with her. He didn't mean anything by it, just liked to get under Bradley's skin. While he spoke to Nat and Mickey, she was speaking to Bob, completely ignoring Jake.

But they found their way back to each other. "You ready to go, pretty girl?" He asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

She pouted up at her husband. "We have to tell them, Bradley," she mumbled and laid her head against his chest.

Bradley let out a huff. He didn't want to tell them, wanted to keep his little family to himself. But the way his wife was looking up at her, he couldn't say no to her.

He cleared his throat. "Guys," he called as he wrapped one arm around her. The rest of the dagger squad turned towards them, all eyes on the two of them. His wife couldn't hide her smile as they all turned to her. "We're gonna be parents."

[goalieflashflight]

This paragraph killed me, and this is full of spoilers. I could write tomes of literature about this paragraph. This is from 'Monstrous Regiment' by Sir Terry Pratchett. Polly is a soldier pretending to be a man. Their god declares things sinful as abominations. The abominations were reasonable, then tolerable, and then wholly insane and even life-threatening. The country's citizens do what they can and guiltily ignore what they can't. Polly's mother was highly religious and found solace in their fading god.

Polly's brother is only described as having learning difficulties, but his hyperfixation is birds. He can name them, recognize their sounds, and mimic them. If he is not told what to do, he will stand outside and observe for hours. Polly, who was responsible for Paul, saved and worked to buy a paint set for him. Paul excitedly paints a bird that could fly off the page. Polly's mother is enraged by this, as painting living things is an abomination, and throws the paint and picture into the fire. Even though almost every room has a drawn picture of the Duchess, whom everyone prays to to talk to their god!

Her mother burned the picture. Her mother who Polly speaks about in only certain terms follows like a ghost in the story. She is another deity that has let Polly down. Something else she can't believe in.

I AM FERAL!

She lost everything she ever believed in that moment. Her mother, her country's god and the Duchess.

We all have that moment in childhood where we realize our parents aren't perfect, they aren't invincable. Polly's mom first did this by burning the picture then sealed it when she got sick and died. Which parelles how the country's god has died and all that is left is echoes. Echoes like that we see of Polly's relationship with her mother. Like how the Duches echoes the voice of another character when possessing her.

This story oh god this story. I will end it here, but there is still so much to say.

[tupznum]

Can a man love another man?

Arthur Morgan X male reader

《•••••••••••♥︎••••••••••••》

Warnings: Fluff? none that I can think of...OH I'm dyslexic so expect errors..

It was dusk and three men sat at the edge of a cliff chatting and laughing away. One being the leader Dutch and the other two being Arthur and m/n.

"Come on m/n I see the way she looks at ya, if that look ain't infatuation I don't know what it is" Dutch teased.

"You know I ain't interested in women and all that shit Dutch" m/n said with the role of his eyes and a laugh.

Arthur laughed in return.

"All right all right calm down you little shit" Dutch laughed.

Suddenly Dutch stood up and start walking away from the boys.

"All right boys I'ma head in don't be up too late now you here? we got a decent day's travel ahead of us" Dutch exclaimed as he headed back to camp

"Night Dutch" Arthur said

"don't let a tree branch knock you out on the way in" M/n joked

"Shut your trap" was Duch's last words of the night.

The two boys sat in silence as they didn't know what to talk about. It start to get uncomfortable so Arthur decided to continue on with the most recent topic.

"Say L/n..I've never seen you with a woman before. have you ever had a Miss or have you just never been one for women?" Arthur asked

"don't start with the last name shit we've been through enough together to go by first names" m/n laughed.

"And no I've never had a miss and I never have been interested in women even when I was a peach fuzz" m/n explained.

"How about you Arthur how many women were you able to swoon" m/n joked, punching Arthur playfully on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't call it swooning" Arthur said with a chuckle

The conversation went dry. Arthur didn't know what to say but m/n want to say something but didn't know if Arthur was the right person to ask.

"Hey Arthur" m/n said his playful demeanor changing into a serious one

Arthur replied with a "hmm?"

"Do you think a man..." he paused

"can love another man?"

"Of course. I love the Gang you guys are my family and pretty much all of us are men" Arthur said cluelessly

"No no that's not what I meant" m/n said with an exhale

"I mean... can a man love a man... the way he does a woman?" He tried to explain again

There was a few seconds of painful silence and eye contact until Arthur broke it. looking away and said.

"I mean I can't see why not we can't control who steals our heart. who's to say that person can't be a man?"

M/n laughed

"You make a good point.....Arthur I think I know why my heart has never been stolen by a woman" m/n said

"Oh? And What's thet" Arthur responded with a grin

"I think the only one strong enough to get into the vault of my heart is another man" m/n stated jokingly but in a serious manner.

Both men laughed in response with Arthur's hand on m/n's shoulder they turn both of their attention back to the view in front of them cherishing the last few moments of sunlight before they had to head off to bed for the long journey ahead of them.

The pair grew a lot closer that day and maybe one day that closeness will blossom into something more.....

[dd-is-my-guiltypleasure]

David Duchovny: ‘The X-Files took up my life, but it was a miracle’

It's behind a paywall so if somebody has access I would love to read the article

Update : got it, thanks @aimsies-mctaymellburg

David Duchovny: ‘The X-Files took up my life, but it was a miracle’

As Fox Mulder in the hit sci-fi show, the actor and singer peddled fringe conspiracy theories. Now the 63-year-old says Mulder’s paranoia is everywhere.

In hindsight it wasn’t a great idea for me to kick off an interview with David Duchovny by suggesting that he was a musical dilettante. You’re most likely to know Duchovny, of course, as Fox Mulder, the conspiracy-theory-guzzling FBI agent in The X Files, one of the biggest shows of the Nineties, watched at its peak by 30 million in America alone. Perhaps you saw him as the womanising writer Hank Moody in Californication or the 1960s detective Sam Hodiak in Aquarius. You may even have read some of his five books.

Duchovny, a New Yorker living in Los Angeles, is less known for music, although he’s been making rather decent folk-rock for a decade — songwriting, playing guitar and singing in a honeyed drawl. His 2015 songHell or Highwater has been streamed more than a million times while Layin’ on the Tracks, from 2020, has pointed lyrics about a certain politician (“It’s a killing joke that no one laughs at/ A stupid orange man in a cheap red hat”). He has released three albums, with a fourth due next year, and this month plays Latitude festival in Suffolk and the 2,000-capacity Shepherds Bush Empire in London.

So does the 63-year-old feel that he should no longer be seen as just a musical dabbler? “That’s part of a lazy person’s perception,” he says, bristling slightly. “It’s a lens through which people want to see me. I think music is an innocent art form — you listen to it and you have a response. To bring any kind of baggage to bear on it in the beginning seems to me to be dishonest, but that’s the way things go.”

YouTube clips of recent shows suggest people were having a lovely time, I say. This doesn’t have the soothing effect intended. YouTube footage lingers “because of the horror of the cell phone”, Duchovny says. “It’s a pet peeve of mine.” Is he tempted to ban them at his shows, as artists from Prince to Bob Dylan have? “I don’t know that I can enforce that view on anybody.”

For Duchovny, it’s as much about phones limiting his performance as it is about the audience not living in the moment. “To do something unique or for the first time, to reach for a note or play a different melody — all these are chances you might take if you weren’t inhibited by the fact that somebody is [recording] it,” he says. “You’ve got to be able to fail and the ubiquity of cell phones makes failure scarier than it needs to be.”

Failure is the key to another of his jobs: podcasting. In his series Fail Better, he adroitly interviews guests including Bette Midler, Ben Stiller and Sean Penn about their failures. “I feel like I’ve been failing my entire life,” Duchovny said on launching it in May. That may sound strange from a man with English degrees from Princeton and Yale, who has won a Golden Globe for The X Files and another for Californication.

Is he familiar with Elizabeth Day, the British journalist who has hosted a successful podcast called How to Fail since 2018? When Duchovny announced Fail Better, Day tweeted: “I might invite David Duchovny on @howtofail to discuss his failure to be original.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” he says. “If she wants to be rigorous in her thinking, she would investigate what my approach to failure is. I don’t know what her approach to it is. My sense, since failure is universal, is that there’s room out there for more than one discussion.” This is a rather po-faced response to what seemed like a playful comment from Day, and surprising because Duchovny has a wicked sense of humour. He can also afford to be more magnanimous, given that his podcast is at No 12 in the UK chart and hers is at 54.

Gillian Anderson, his X Files co-star, certainly likes his podcast, writing this week on Instagram that she had listened to all of the episodes and found them “intimate and vulnerable … very smart questions, although I wouldn’t expect anything else from you [David]”.

“It’s very sweet,” Duchovny says. “I will email her and thank her. I’m sure somebody running my social media is … I don’t really like to be on social media.” Later that day his Instagram account replies to Anderson’s post: “Thank you for listening, you have an open invite [to appear on his podcast]!”

That encounter would be worth hearing because his relationship with Anderson is fascinating. Despite their chemistry in The X Files there were rumours of friction — although they looked to be getting on swimmingly when they appeared on Jimmy Kimmel’s talk show in 2016 to publicise the return of the show, which ran for two more seasons.

When asked by Kimmel about frostiness between her and Duchovny in the Nineties, Anderson collapsed into giggles, laid her head in Duchovny’s lap and put any froideur down to the dampness of Vancouver, where the series was shot. Her hair kept going frizzy, she explained, and “for every single take we’d have to stand there and blow dry my hair again”.

“And I got pissed at that?” Duchovny asked.

“Well, I think it added to the tension,” Anderson said.

“It kinda makes me sound like an asshole,” Duchovny replied.

Anderson had nothing to do with him leaving The X Files in 2002, he says now. “That was just me wanting to have a family, but also to try other things. It had kind of taken up my life. There was no animosity with the actual show and the people that I worked with. I am proud of the show — it was culturally central in a way that it’s very hard to do these days in a fragmented landscape. There’s so many lightning-strike aspects to it that I can’t help but think of it as some kind of a miracle.”

The X Files gave conspiracy theories a kind of nobility — “the truth is out there”, as its tagline ran. Now they are more widespread and pernicious. “Mulder’s way of looking at the world was through conspiracy and that was the fringe at that point,” Duchovny says. “It doesn’t seem to be so fringe any more. It’s really the world that [The X Files creator] Chris Carter foresaw happening almost 30 years ago. He’s almost clairvoyant in that case.” Is Duchovny more evidence-based than Mulder? “Not at all. I’m an artist — I am associative-based and I see poetry as science and science as poetry.” So are there some conspiracy theories that he buys into? “No, I’m talking about art. I think conspiracies are mostly just lazy thinking.”

One failure that has shaped Duchovny is that of his marriage to the actress Téa Leoni, who starred in Bad Boys and Deep Impact. They married in 1997 and have a daughter, West, 25, and a son, Kyd, 22, but divorced in 2014. “That darkness does deepen you. It makes you more empathetic and humble,” Duchovny says. One of the themes of his podcast is “the difference between humiliating and humbling. Often we focus on humiliation in our culture. I don’t see any positives coming from humiliation, but I see a lot of them coming from humility.”

One wonders if the reference to humiliation has something to do with Duchovny checking into rehab for sex addiction in 2008. Could him playing the bed-hopping Hank in Californication be a case of art imitating life? “People never tire of trying to figure that out,” he says with a sigh. “But to me, that’s not what acting is about. I don’t look for things that are mirroring my life in any way.”

Well, there are parallels in Reverse the Curse, the 2023 film that Duchovny directed, starred in and adapted from his book Bucky F***ing Dent. He plays a would-be novelist who has “sacrificed his artistic dream to put food on the table”. His father, a publicist, did the same, publishing his debut at 75, the year before he died. The film has some really funny scenes, including one where Marty and his son have a farting competition in a motel room that ends up smelling like “an aquarium that fed a sock”. That may have come from a line in Aquarius where someone says something similar about a police station. “I might have ripped it off, I’m not sure,” Duchovny says. “ You can ask Elizabeth Day about that.”

David Duchovny will perform at Latitude festival, near Southwold on July 25 and 02 Shepherd’s Bush Empire, W12 on July 27

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

SUMMARY: The year was 2014. With the marriage of Satoru Gojo and Hannah Thames made official, the first of its kind, a bridge had finally been established. Relations between the Jujutsu and Western factions practically improved overnight, bringing hope that Ryomen Sukuna would be exorcized at last, but things are never that simple.

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Ch 1: The Wedding

Ch 2: Meetings and Mishaps

Ch 3: The King of Curses

Ch 4: Through Many Dangers, Toils, and Snares

Ch 5: The Strongest

Ch 6: The Siren

Ch 7: A Moment of Grace, A Thread of Enlightenment

Ch 8: After the Rain, Earth Hardens

Ch 9: We Are But Flesh and Bone

Ch 10: There Is No Easy Way To Learning

Ch 11: Laborare Est Orare 

Ch 12: Tomoe’s Warning

Ch 13: Fear No Danger To Ensue 

Ch 14: Into The Belly of the Beast

Ch 15: The Only Way Out Is Through (I)

Ch 16: The Only Way Out Is Through (II)

Ch 17: Reconciled

Ch 18: Fighting the Inevitable

Ch 19: Duch and Butch

Ch 20: A Heart to Heart

Ch 21: Life’s Tiny Victories

Ch 22: The Nature of Bees

Ch 23: Great Courage Is Righteous Anger

Ch 24: Kumari’s Appraisal & Armaments

Ch 25: The Road To A Friend’s House Is Never Long

Ch 26: The Harp

Ch 27: Hiding In Plain Sight

Ch 28: A Burden Shared Is A Burden Halved

Ch 29: Resolution

Ch 30: One Flesh (SMUT)

Ch 31: Honeymoon Phase (SMUT)

Ch 32: 夏油 傑

Ch 33: One Trouble Departed, Again Trouble

Ch 34: Sanity(SMUT)

Oneshots

Sticks and Stones

A Girls’ Night Out

津美紀 (Tsumiki)

真希 (Maki)

The Blindfold

Maidenhair Tree (銀杏)

Cheating

[dukeoftheblackstar]

by @amorfista

"Home"

— a state of being, a state of mind, a state of feeling, a state with you.

[Sappy stuff under cut because I have no self-control on overexplaining things.] [The Duch in me just wants to drown between his knees.]

I think the universe conspired that day when the comic by @exosorcery came out, I saw @veny-many do a Warthog segment on their post, I was obsessing over Kel Dor languge by @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows because I named the kid Plo with the egg 'Kiv' and wanted some 'tomatoe vibes for some reason, and my Plo Koon bestie @saengak is just being all over the place with me xDxDxD.

Then the support and overall love the 104th (not just Wolffe, because the rest of my boys are slept on) is getting and Kel Dor/Dorin & Plo Koon reblogs were just increasing and my dash was blossoming with so much of the 104th and Plo Koon.

And I've had this beautiful, beautiful, deep conversation with @amorfista about love and I went on about the concept of being someone's home and then there's this for context:

And then right when I told @amorfista I did the fic, they sent me the drawing at that same moment and I don't know how to explain it but it's just so wild! I didn't get why she asked for hair details but then when she sent this I was already crying over the fic and now I was just a hot mess (still am).

Somewhere Only We Know - Plo Koon x OC/Reader Fic

And then @idontgetanysleep made this fab mood board and dividers for our shared favorite song 'Electric Love' by BØRNS because you know, zappy zap zap Plo, and the water aesthetic just blew my mind!

So much encouragement in writing from @daimyosprincess @kimiheartblade @what-i-meant-to-say and the @space-whores being such fab people ♥

And you, @starrrgazingbunny for actually writing with me and keeping me company with angst, fluff, and for being the first one to deal with my unhinged bitch of an OC. ♥

So like, everything is just absolute Plo Koon love and I just wanna thank all of you collectively because you've made me so happy. I love y'all so much and sorry for this sappy post ♥

[tanith-rhea]

That I may be weak with you

"Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test." - Alain de Botton Dorothea Delilah Darcy is a woman in her mid to late twenties, struggling to find her place in the world. A recent job opportunity as a guidance counsellor at Nevermore Academy seems like a godsend, and she could not miss it for the life of her. Still, perhaps more problems will arise than she expected. Between bubbly, extroverted students and an uncharacteristically reactive principal, she'll be forced to overcome the limitations of her abilities or separate herself entirely from the place she'll grow to call home.

Author's note: this is... something that I'm willing to share at the moment. I hope you like it, it certainly is more of an indulgence on my part than anything else. This and Honey, You're a Keeper are what's keeping me sane lately (although more fantasizing about both the stories than writing them)

Chapter One

"There are times when I am convinced I am unfit for any human relationship" — Franz Kafka

You never thought you would someday get the chance to go to Nevermore. Being home-schooled was very common for kids in your community, and the boarding high school experience seemed to you like one of those unachievable dreams you only read about in the countless novels in your library.

You ended up not going, of course. At least not as a student. Now you approached the Nevermore gates in a car driven by a charming middle-aged man responsible for maintaining the campus surroundings nifty and, apparently, chauffeuring new professors.

A soft drizzle cast everything in a foggish autumnal setting. The term would begin in a week, so true autumn wasn't very far away, but the contrast with your parents' house was welcomed; it reminded you of Belfast, only warmer and sealess.

"What do you think, Ser Barnabas?" you petted the dark-grey tabby in your lap, "Will they be able to help us?"

"What was that, Miss?" the driver asked amicably.

"Oh! Nothing, Mr Duch, sorry to disturb you."

"Nonsense, girl, you've been nothing but nice the entire trip," he turned the car left and you saw the castle beyond the trees "We're here."

Nevermore Academy was a castle-like boarding school for teenage outcasts to learn how to control and develop their powers as well as a myriad of other subjects. You would do something along those lines, you would help them with their troubles. As it appears, their count had gone up considerably since last semester.

The building itself was a gorgeous piece of architecture. You remembered studying similar structures while going over the Gothic movement in college almost seven years ago but looking at pictures was never the same as visiting a cathedral. It certainly was not the same as stepping out of the car to a fairy-tale courtyard and mystical-looking archways. The grandiosity of the place brought you the nostalgia of reading The Secret Garden for the first time; childish curiosity meets fantastical hidden marvel.

"Everything was strange and silent and she seemed to be hundreds of miles away from anyone..."

"But somehow she did not feel lonely at all," someone interrupted your mumbling in a soft, amicable tone.

A tall blond approached you by the car, dressed in a long-sleeved, cream-coloured dress. She was easily a foot taller than you and quite intimidating, but contrary to her height, her warm blue eyes only invited you in. You felt a surge of emotion in your chest and slightly panicked at the thought of having an episode then and there, and out of nowhere too. You were certain no one was touching you, and you knew none of the people around you personally.

"Are you all right?" the beautiful woman asked, and a small crease appeared between her brows. She went to touch your arm, but you quickly composed yourself and stepped away to deposit Ser Barnabas on the ground.

"I'm quite all right, yes!" you tried to smile, "I was only surprised you knew Ms Hogson's words."

"Hardly an uncommon read," Ser Barnabas went to her and walked between her legs, rubbing on her quite uncharacteristically.

"But you knew them exactly, Pride and Prejudice is not an uncommon read and yet most people won't be able to quote it if asked."

"Quite the debater, I see, but you do have a point," she arched one perfectly designed eyebrow at you "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy, I'm Larissa Weems, the principal of Nevermore Academy," she held her hand out to you and of course you were being unnecessarily prickly to the one person that could fire you and send you away at any time.

"Oh, my, I'm so sorry!" you hastily recovered from your previous scare, putting on a well-practised mask of serenity, "We only talked through e-mails so I'm afraid I didn't recognize you," you took her hand confidently "I didn't realise you would be meeting me quite so soon."

"I prefer to give the tour myself to any new staff member. I believe it to be a good bonding opportunity," she smiled easily. She was so effortlessly gracious, you had to admit leadership suited her like her obviously tailored dress.

You tugged on your glove ends to distract yourself from her overwhelming warmth and turned to look at the kind gentleman that brought you there, "Mr Duch, could you open the truck for me? I'd like to bring my things along to save time."

"Oh, don't worry, darling. I'll ask some of the staff to do that for you. You can go, Mr Duch, and have a rest before getting back to work, I believe Philomena made hot chocolate about half an hour ago and there still might have some."

"Thank you, principal, have a good day," the man left through a side pathway and quickly was out of view beyond the archways.

You were left with the imposing figure, and there wasn't much you could do aside from accompanying her. Somehow, she made you more nervous than you anticipated. Meeting new people was always a complicated ordeal, but with Principal Weems the hairs on your arms seemed more charged than usual as if her energy already knew you, which was impossible.

Ser Barnabas, the traitor, was nowhere to be seen. After nuzzling her ankles, he just skipped away to explore. You were relieved she didn't seem to realize or mind your cat's affections, after all, pets could not be prohibited but it didn't mean other co-workers or your boss had to like yours.

"I'll show you your private accommodations and we'll have a look around the school. Your office is near the astronomy tower, just before the Desdemona Hall communal area."

Your rooms consisted of a large bedroom and office area with an adjoining bathroom equipped with a bathtub and separate shower space. It was similar to what your last place of employment offered, but the stone walls and gothic feel were an entirely different level of appeal.

The principal showed you the dining area, the quad — which was a pentagon — the teacher's breakroom and your own classroom. The rest she said you'd be quickly acquainted with during the next few weeks. She explained some basic rules of the academy and advised you to be cautious of students trying to trick you into giving them a Jericho pass, especially Ophelia Hall girls. You found it all quite simple to understand, but that was only when you could actually concentrate on what the woman was telling you and not the movement of her lips forming words.

She had a very articulate way of expressing herself, something expected from someone in such a position of power, but it was understandably charming accompanied by her melodic accent, low voice and powerful stance. She commanded discipline by simply being.

"I hope to see you very soon, Miss Darcy," the woman concluded with a winning smile, "Dinner is served at seven-thirty, as I already told you. If you would like to dine out, please notify Mr Duch before five and transportation back is on you," she nodded one final time before turning on her heels and walking down the corridor.

You surveyed your office once more. Now that you were alone, a sense of calm finally made its way to your bones. Being near other people wasn't unpleasant most of the time, but the principal seemed to have a particularly powerful presence and keeping yourself in check all the time while paying attention to her was exhausting. Not that you paid all that much attention to her, instead just ogling like a creep.

Your files were already organized in the first drawer of your desk; all the documents you sent through e-mails to the school board were printed and put together in a leather cover binder. Very aesthetically pleasing and organized. You loved whoever did that for taking their time to sort through everything so carefully.

Leaving the office behind, you went back to your rooms for a shower and change of clothes. Ser Barnabas somehow was inside, sleeping atop a suitcase as if he was protecting your belongings.

"Someone had a busy hour," you scratched behind his ear and he stretched, meowing for being woken up.

You unpacked and put your things away in drawers and armoires, leaving Ser Barnabas' teacup by the enormous arched window overlooking the quad for him to hydrate whenever he deemed necessary — sometimes you were convinced he drank mentally because the water would disappear and he would be sleeping in the exact same position as the one before you left — before having a long-awaited shower.

You didn't go to dinner that day, deciding on a series of one-person games of draughts before bed.

[linkemon]

Aomine Daiki x (chubby) Reader

Resztę oneshotów z tej i innych serii możesz przeczytać tutaj. Zajrzyj też na moje Ko-fi.

Some of these oneshots are already translated into English. You can find them here.

"— ᴊᴇᴅʏɴʏᴍ, ᴋᴛᴏ́ʀʏ ᴍᴏᴢ̇ᴇ ᴍɴɪᴇ ᴘᴏᴋᴏɴᴀᴄ́… — ᴢᴀᴄᴢᴀ̨ᴌ ᴅᴀɪᴋɪ, ᴊᴀᴋʙʏ ᴘʀᴏ́ʙᴜᴊᴀ̨ᴄ sɪᴇ̨ ᴜsᴘʀᴀᴡɪᴇᴅʟɪᴡɪᴄ́. — …ᴊᴇsᴛᴇś ᴛʏ sᴀᴍ? — ᴢᴀᴋᴏɴ́ᴄᴢʏᴌᴀ ᴢᴀ ɴɪᴇɢᴏ ᴅᴢɪᴇᴡᴄᴢʏɴᴀ."

sᴘᴏᴊʀᴢᴇɴɪᴇ ɴᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴋᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴏᴍɪɴᴇ ɪ ᴊᴇɢᴏ ᴢᴍɪᴀɴʏ ᴡ ᴘʀᴢᴇᴄɪᴀ̨ɢᴜ ɢɪᴍɴᴀᴢᴊᴜᴍ ɪ ʟɪᴄᴇᴜᴍ. ʙᴏ ᴍᴏᴢ̇ᴇ ᴊᴇᴅɴᴀᴋ sᴀ̨ ʟᴜᴅᴢɪᴇ, ᴋᴛᴏ́ʀᴢʏ ᴘᴏᴛʀᴀғɪᴀ̨ sᴘʀᴀᴡɪᴄ́, ᴢ̇ᴇ ᴋᴏsᴢʏᴋᴏ́ᴡᴋᴀ ᴢɴᴏ́ᴡ ɴᴀʙɪᴇʀᴀ sᴇɴsᴜ…

ᴅᴏᴅᴀᴛᴋᴏᴡᴇ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴄᴊᴇ:

ᴡ ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴄɪᴇ ᴡʏʀᴀᴢ́ɴɪᴇ ᴢᴀᴢɴᴀᴄᴢᴏɴᴇ ᴢᴏsᴛᴀᴌᴏ, ᴢ̇ᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴀ ɴᴀᴅᴡᴀɢᴇ̨, ᴀʟᴇ ᴍʏśʟᴇ̨, ᴢ̇ᴇ sᴘᴏᴋᴏᴊɴɪᴇ ᴍᴏᴢ̇ɴᴀ sɪᴇ̨ ᴡᴄᴢᴜᴄ́.

Aomine przystanął na żwirowej ścieżce. Nasłuchiwał przez moment. Z sali gimnastycznej dochodziły dziwne odgłosy. Momoi mówiła mu kiedyś, że jest nawiedzona. Przez moment naprawdę jej uwierzył, ale potem spotkał Kuroko. Chłopak ze swoim zapałem do ćwiczeń i umiejętnością odwracania uwagi całkiem nieświadomie zachowywał się jak prawdziwy duch. Daiki wyśmiał głupie plotki następnego dnia, ale teraz już nie był taki pewien, czy nie tkwiło w nich jednak ziarno prawdy. Sprawdził telefon, by upewnić się, że niczego nie pomylił:  

Tetsu  

Rozchorowałem się. Nie będzie mnie dzisiaj na treningu.  

A więc nie. Powinien być tu tylko on sam. Rozejrzał się nerwowo wokół siebie. Szkolny plac był pusty. Nie było nikogo, kto mógłby mu towarzyszyć. Cała drużyna rozeszła się już do domów. Zdenerwowany oblizał wargi. Właściwie mógłby odejść, ale przecież nie będzie tchórzył... chyba.  

— Cholera! Idę! — Ścisnął mocno swoją piłkę od kosza.  

Nie był przecież mięczakiem. Ludzie w gimnazjum nie powinni obawiać się wymyślonej zjawy. Z pewnością ktoś się tylko nabijał. Dumnie uniósł głowę. Przyspieszył kroku w obawie, by nie rozmyślić się w ostatniej chwili.  

Delikatnie uchylił drzwi i rozejrzał się po sali. Mocne halogeny rozświetlały pomieszczenie. Dodało mu to otuchy.  

Przez środek boiska biegła dziewczyna. Sprawnie kozłowała w kierunku kosza. Odetchnął z ulgą. Z pewnością nie była straszydłem. Można nawet powiedzieć, że wyglądała bardzo ładnie. Szczególnie biorąc pod uwagę jej kształty. Aomine już dawno przestał się przejmować tym, jak inni widzą jego postrzeganie płci przeciwnej. Jeśli kobieta miała duży biust, to nie widział nic złego w tym, by go podziwiać. Komplement jak każdy inny.  

Przez moment stał w progu, oglądając, jak ćwiczy. Wyglądało na to, że szlifowała podstawowe umiejętności. Kozioł. Prawa. Lewa. Rzut. Zaraz potem odwrotna wersja. I tak w kółko.  

W pewnym momencie piłka odbiła się od kosza i poturlała się wprost pod jego nogi. Daiki podniósł ją i zakręcił na palcu. Wirowała przez moment. Posłał ją z powrotem w stronę uczennicy. Musiał przyznać, że miała refleks, bo złapała ją poprawnie.  

— Cześć! — zawołała, kozłując. — Też przyszedłeś poćwiczyć, Aomine-san?  

Na jego twarzy musiał odmalować się szok. W końcu nie co dzień spotykał nieznajome wiedzące, kim jest.  

— Skąd znasz moje nazwisko? — Podszedł bliżej.  

— Trudno nie znać członka Pokolenia Cudów, chodząc do Teikō — odparła.  

Chyba do tej pory nie zdawał sobie sprawę z tego, jak bardzo jest rozpoznawalny. Jego kariera dopiero nabierała rozpędu. Czuł, że pewnego dnia zajdzie daleko, ale chyba wszystko działo się szybciej niż myślał. To Kise mógł się pochwalić popularnością. Wszędzie biegały za nim fanki. Błagały o autograf, wspólne zdjęcie albo zostawiały mu prezenty. Nie zazdrościł mu. Bywały okropnie upierdliwe.  

— Jestem w klubie koszykarskim, więc oglądałam wasze mecze — dodała.  

A więc jednak się mylił. To jeszcze nie było jego pięć minut sławy. Może to i lepiej.  

— Hmmm… — Niski pomruk wydobył się z jego gardła. — Co powiesz na jeden na jeden?  

Był przekonany, że odmówi. Większość ludzi bała się z nim grać. Jeśli już go widziała, to powinna wyczuć porażkę. Lata ulicznej koszykówki zaszczepiły w nim dzikie instynkty. Rozwinął refleks do wręcz nadludzkiego poziomu. Nie bał się przyznać, że jest dobry. Znał swoje możliwości i stale przesuwał granice tego, co go wstrzymywało. To zniechęcało sporo osób, które nie widziały sensu, by się z nim mierzyć.  

Jednak dziewczyna ku jego zdziwieniu odłożyła na bok swoją piłkę i z uśmiechem stanęła gotowa do walki.  

— Jestem [Reader]. — Wyciągnęła rękę.  

Potrząsnął dłonią, czując silny uścisk. Z pewnością nie brakowało jej siły.  

Daiki nie był do końca pewny, jak to działa.  Czy sport mógł być jakąś formą komunikacji, którą rozumieją tylko wybrani?  Z jakiegoś powodu wydawało mu się to prawdą. Ta rozgrywka zdawała się mówić więcej o nowo poznanej osobie niż gdyby miała mu to przekazać słowami.  

Miała zapał. Wkładała w koszykówkę serce. Rzucało mu się to w oczy bardzo wyraźnie. Szczególnie, że Tetsu był jego przyjacielem. A on ucieleśniał to podejście. W tej rozgrywce był jakiś upór. Nie taki dziki, jak jego własny, a raczej rozważny. Dziewczyna ważyła swoje opcje.  

Po kilku minutach pojął, w czym rzecz. Wiedział, dlaczego tego wieczora trenowała zwykłe podstawy. Miała prawdziwy talent do rzutów. Może nie taki na miarę Midorimy, ale jednak duży. Wszystko wpadało idealnie, jeśli nie zdążył stanąć do obrony. Nieważne, jak dziwacznego kąta by nie obrała. Nabiła całkiem sporo punktów. Nie mogła się jednak z nim równać. Skoro rywalizowali na poważnie, postanowił nie dawać jej forów. Blado wypadały jej zwody. Trudno też było jej nadążyć za morderczym tempem biegu. Podejrzewał, że podania też idą jej średnio. Nie miał jednak okazji ich ujrzeć, bo byli tylko we dwójkę. Bezczelnie więc wykorzystywał te słabości, by ostatecznie zdobyć miażdżącą przewagę.  

Czekał na moment, gdy się podłamie. Na tę dobrze mu znaną minę, którą coraz częściej widział na twarzach rywali. Na chwilę olśnienia, kiedy zrozumie swoje braki w obliczu jego umiejętności. Jednak ona nie przestawała. Nawet gdy zmęczona upadła, podniosła się i kontynuowała. Ktoś mógłby powiedzieć, że w takim razie powinien przerwać. On jednak widział w jej oczach wolę walki. Rozpoznawał ten głód godnego przeciwnika. Taki sam, jaki trawił niego samego, więc nie potrafił się powstrzymać.  

Czuł ciepło, ale nie z powodu potu lśniącego na opalonej skórze. To było jakieś radosne uczucie, objawiające się w okolicy brzucha. Gdy się uśmiechała, coś w środku niego trzepotało, pragnąc się wydostać na powierzchnię. Chciał kontynuować, wiecznie niezmęczony. Im dłużej się nad tym zastanawiał, tym głupsze mu się to wydawało.  Czy to mogła być miłość od pierwszego wejrzenia?  

Cholera!  — pomyślał .  Naprawdę się rozproszył, przez co zabrała mu piłkę. Z trudem zdobyła kolejny punkt. Mimowolnie poczuł, jak na jego usta wkrada się uśmiech. To właśnie była prawdziwa koszykówka. Taka, jaką lubił.  

Nie był idiotą. [Reader] mu się podobała. Może miłość to było za duże słowo, ale coś w niej go pociągało. Od wyglądu, przez grę, aż po ten zapał, którym emanowała. Chciał spędzić z nią więcej czasu i lepiej poznać.  

— Wpadnę kiedyś obejrzeć twój mecz — rzucił niby od niechcenia.  

Powiedział to, skacząc do kosza. Wolał być odwrócony plecami. Nie brał porażki pod uwagę. Ale na wszelki wypadek jednak lepiej byłoby nie oglądać jej twarzy, gdyby mu odmówiła.  

Dziewczyna przystanęła na moment. Dopiero wznawiali grę po zdobytym punkcie, ale widział, że w jej postawie coś się zmieniło. Jakby nieznacznie zesztywniała.  

— Chętnie bym cię zaprosiła, ale nie gram w pierwszym składzie. — Trafiła za trzy punkty.  

To go zdziwiło.  Czyżby żeńskie Teikō w tak krótkim czasie zdobyło silne zawodniczki?  Wydawało mu się, że wciąż ich szukano. Semestr dopiero się zaczął. Zdecydowanie powinna się tam znaleźć. Co prawda w rozgrywce z nim wydawała się przeciętna, ale on to on. Poza tym jej błędy nadawały się do całkiem szybkiej korekty. A z taką celnością drużyna z pewnością daleko by zaszła.  

— Dlaczego? — Chłopak był naprawdę ciekawy.  

Spodziewał się, że machnie na pytanie ręką. Satsuki zwykle tak robiła, gdy pytał ją, co się dzieje. Często mówiła, że to nie jego interes i że nie powinien się wtrącać w nie swoje sprawy (no chyba że chodziło o Kuroko, to zupełnie inna rzecz). Ona jednak nie była Momoi.  

— Trenerka i kapitan uważają, że ktoś z moimi wymiarami nie może grać — oznajmiła prosto z mostu.  

Zupełnie nie tego się spodziewał.  Co miał teraz powiedzieć? Że mu przykro? Że to idiotyczne?  Dziewczyny, z którymi do tej pory przebywał, pewnie właśnie to chciałyby usłyszeć. Zwykle też lubiły sobie nawzajem mówić, że wcale nie mają nadwagi. Ostatni raz, gdy powiedział przyjaciółce, że przytyła, nie odzywała się do niego przez tydzień.  

— Znam tę minę. — [Reader] ostentacyjnie przewróciła oczami. — Tylko nie mów, że ci przykro. Nie potrzebuję pocieszenia. Wiem, że jestem grubsza niż większość dziewczyn z drużyny i znam swoje ograniczenia. Ale to nie daje tym dwóm sukom prawa, by patrzeć na mnie z góry. Dostanę się do pierwszego składu i pokażę im, że nie miały racji. — Mówiąc to, wróciła do gry.  

Nie wiedział, co go bardziej zszokowało. To, że właśnie nazwała nauczycielkę suką (z tego, co o niej słyszał, to całkiem jej się należało), czy to, że akceptowała fakt, z którym większości trudno byłoby się pogodzić. Rzeczywiście była szersza w pewnych miejscach, ale nie widział w tym przeszkody. Szczególnie z jej grą. Jeśli podciągnie się wystarczająco, prędzej czy później dostanie awans.  

— Kobiety z kształtami są atrakcyjne!  

Wystawiła mu środkowy palec, na co się uśmiechnął. Zdecydowanie była odświeżająca w porównaniu do jego dotychczasowych znajomych.  

— No co? Mówię prawdę!  

Potrząsnęła głową i pokozłowała w stronę kosza.  

Wybił jej piłkę z rąk, po czym przegonił o krok. Wyskoczył w górę. Może nie był to idealny wsad. Wciąż trochę brakowało mu wzrostu oraz siły, by zrobić to tak, jak należy. Mimo to na moment zawisł w powietrzu. Z radością patrzył, jak pomarańczowa smuga przechodzi przez obręcz. Wiedział, że popisuje się jak gówniarz, ale nawet nie próbował z tym walczyć.  

— Jestem pewny, że się dostaniesz. — Popatrzył jej w oczy na moment. Chciał, żeby wiedziała, że się nie droczy. Naprawdę tak uważał.  

Odgarnęła do tyłu sportowy kucyk. Nic nie odpowiedziała. Po prostu ponownie ruszyła do gry. Tak spędzili cały wieczór.  

Nagle przez pisk sportowych butów przebił się dzwonek jego telefonu. Już miał zamknąć klapkę, gdy na wyświetlaczu ujrzał:  Matka . To zwiastowało kłopoty. Nakrzyczała na niego, gdy tylko odebrał. Do tego stopnia, że odsunął urządzenie od ucha. Miał dziś wrócić szybciej, żeby pomóc jej nosić ciężkie worki. Próbował się bronić, ale zegar na sali wyraźnie wskazywał, że jest grubo po czasie. Rozłączył się w połowie tyrady. Już i tak nic nowego by mu nie powiedziała. Zostało mu tylko jak najszybciej biec do domu.  

[Reader] śmiała się na boku przez cały czas. Widocznie szalenie bawiło ją patrzenie, jak dostaje kazanie.  

— Dzięki za grę! — Zabrała swój plecak z podłogi.  

— Dziękujesz mi za to, że wgniotłem cię w ziemię? — wyszczerzył się Aomine.  

Uderzyła go w ramię. Nie bolało, choć miała sporo siły. Po prostu miał na tyle wyrobione mięśnie, że niewiele poczuł.  

— Odegram się następnym razem. —  Dziewczyna zmełła w ustach przekleństwo.  

— Kto powiedział, że będzie następny raz? — Chłopak uniósł brew.  

Wydawało się, jakby byli dobrymi znajomymi, choć spotkali się zaledwie tego dnia. Dziwnie się z tym czuł. Szczególnie, że wszystkie dziewczyny, jakimi się do tej pory interesował, wyróżniały się jedynie wyglądem. Z żadną nie udało mu się zawiązać nici porozumienia. Przyjmowały do wiadomości, że interesuje się sportem, ale żadna nie widziała w nim tego, co on. Tak jakby pojmowały ogół, ale nie wiedziały, czym jest sama istota jego pasji.  

Co prawda miał przy sobie Satsuki. Na nią jednak nie potrafił spojrzeć inaczej niż na młodszą siostrę. Mieszkali blisko i znali się od dzieciństwa. Poza tym robiła maślane oczy do jego najlepszego kumpla. W jakimś stopniu pojmowała, co siedzi w głowie Daikiego. Jednak spotkać kogoś spoza zwyczajnego kręgu znajomych, kto by go rozumiał, nie zdarzyło mu się od wieków.  

Zmierzali w stronę drzwi. [Reader] nic nie powiedziała, odkąd zanegował pomysł powtórzenia spotkania. Zerknął na nią kątem oka.  

— Jakbyś chciała kiedyś razem potrenować, to i tak już pomagam koledze z drużyny. Siedzimy tu prawie każdego dnia o tej porze. Możesz dołączyć. — Aomine podrapał kark.  

Kuroko raczej nie powinien mieć nic przeciwko temu. Jak go znał, to pewnie jeszcze się z tego ucieszy. Szczególnie, że w pewnym sensie byli bardzo podobni.  

— Serio? — Miał wrażenie, że cała jej twarz nabrała blasku. Możliwe jednak, że było to tylko światło księżyca wychodzącego zza chmur.  

— Taaa — mruknął potwierdzająco.  

— No to widzimy się! — Odbiegła zadowolona.  

***  

Aomine w najlepsze wsuwał burgera i zajadał go frytkami. Chrupiąca bułka, soczyste mięso i jakieś niepotrzebne warzywne dodatki. Ten znajomy smak przywoływał wspomnienia. Do tego jeszcze wielka cola. Pociągnął przez wielką rurkę. Ciemny, zimny i słodki płyn buzował bąbelkami. Poczuł się zupełnie jak kiedyś, na początku gimnazjum. Tylko że lepiej. Tak sobie powtarzał.  

Bo teraz było późno w nocy. Ciemno i cicho. Nikt mu nie przeszkadzał. Na zmianie w Maji Burgerze siedział tylko jeden pracownik i zajmował się swoimi sprawami. Nawet nie spojrzał w jego stronę.  

Kiedyś, gdy tu przychodził, otaczał go gwar. Koledzy bijący się o to, kto pierwszy zamówi albo kto komu wisi pieniądze. Zdawało się, że ciepłe popołudnia zniknęły gdzieś bardzo daleko. Jakby wydarzyły się odległe lata temu, choć wcale tak nie było. Nie tęsknił. Nie mógł, bo sam to wybrał. Tę samotność, która jak na złość dawała o sobie znać w takich momentach, jak ten.  

Daiki oparł głowę o szybę. Neony rozświetlały nieciekawe widoki. Zerknął na stolik. Zamówił stanowczo za dużo jedzenia. Nie pokona tego wszystkiego i kasa się zmarnuje.  Czemu w ogóle to zrobił?  Już od dawna nie przychodził tu z chłopakami. Widywali się na meczach, ale tylko oficjalnych. Nie chciał się z nimi spotykać, więc unikał ich jak ognia. Zresztą z tego, co wiedział, oni też już przestali spędzać wspólnie czas. Nie byli drużyną, tylko zbiorem indywidualistów. A teraz każdy z nich skończył naukę w Teikō.  

Odezwał się cichy dzwonek nad drzwiami. Nie przejął się nim do momentu, aż usłyszał znajomy głos. Zamarł z burgerem w połowie drogi do ust.  

[Reader]. To ona odbierała właśnie swój shake przy podświetlanej ladzie. Nie wierzył w bogów, ale w tej chwili modlił się, by go nie zauważyła. Co było okropnie głupie, jak się nad tym zastanowić.  Bo niby czemu miał się jej bać?  Nie wyszło im. Tylko tyle i aż tyle. Właściwie to nawet nie mieli jak zerwać. Nigdy oficjalnie nie ogłosili, że są parą. Nie przejmowali się takimi rzeczami. Kiedy dotarli do etapu randkowania, wszystko w jego życiu zaczęło się sypać. Oznajmił jej, że nic z tego nie wyjdzie. Przyjęła to do świadomości i byli naprawdę niezłymi przyjaciółmi. Do momentu, gdy odsunął również przyjaciół, a ich kontakt znacznie się ograniczył.  

— Mogę się przysiąść? — Bezceremonialnie wpakowała się na siedzenie naprzeciw niego.  

— Jeśli chcesz — odburknął cicho.  

— Koniec gimnazjum. Szybko zleciało, co? — [Reader] bawiła się słomką. Jakby nie do końca była pewna, co powiedzieć.  

Nie dziwił jej się. Niezręcznie było tak siedzieć. Jak za starych czasów. Praktycznie się nie widywali. Nawet nie wiedział, co dokładnie zamierza teraz robić. Szła do Shūtoku, ale na tym jego wiedza się kończyła. Po tym, jak dostała się do pierwszego składu, zaczęła grać w oficjalnych meczach. Z pewnością przyjmą ją z otwartymi ramionami. Wmawiał sobie, że go to nie interesuje. A jednak łowił wiadomości o niej od wiecznie trajkoczącej Satsuki. A, gdy przeglądał telefon, śledził jej media społecznościowe. W głębi serca wiedział, że gdyby naprawdę miał ją gdzieś, to już dawno przestałby chłonąć tę wiedzę przy każdej możliwej okazji.  

— Tak, bardzo szybko — przytaknął Aomine.  

Zapadła niezręczna cisza. Dzwoniła mu w uszach, niemiłosiernie przypominając, że jest inaczej niż kiedyś. Dawniej siadała tuż obok niego. Obejmował ją ramieniem, które żartobliwie strząsała. Potem opowiadał jakieś nieśmieszne żarty, kłócąc się o to, jaką strategię przyjąć w kolejnym meczu.  

Wciąż wyglądała tak pięknie, jak pierwszego dnia, gdy ją spotkał. Nadal palił się w niej ten żar, którego jemu tak rozpaczliwie brakowało.  

Spojrzał na stół.  

— Chcesz burgera? — zadał pytanie, wyciągając kanapkę w jej stronę.  

— Wow, mój ulubiony! Dzięki!  

Przeklął się w myślach. Nieświadomie kupił ten, który kochała najbardziej. Właściwie wszystkie na jego tacy były preferencjami osób z Generacji Cudów.  

To pewnie był pierwszy raz od dawna, gdy ucieszyła się z czegoś, co zrobił. Bo na pewno nie była zadowolona z tego, kim się stał. Częściowo żałował, ale nigdy do końca.  

Przez jakiś czas jedli w milczeniu. Przeżuwał powoli. Wydawało mu się, jakby stracił apetyt. Kęsy grzęzły gdzieś w gardle.  

— [Reader]… jesteś na mnie zła za…? — zaciął się. — Sama wiesz… — zakończył niemrawo.  

Ile różnych rzeczy kryło się pod tym stwierdzeniem. Urwał treningi. Zostawił ją i Kuroko samych sobie. Nie miało znaczenia, że wtedy już radzili sobie świetnie. Przestał spędzać z nimi czas. Opuszczał mecze. Zarówno te swoje, jak i jej. A potem też zwykłe spotkania i rozmowy. Zaniedbał to wszystko, co razem zbudowali.  

Przerażało go, jak sentymentalnie brzmi. A jednak tak bardzo chciał wiedzieć, co ona o tym myśli.  

— Nie jestem, Aomine-kun. Jest mi przykro, ale nie jestem zła. Rozumiem cię.  

Przerastało go to, jak bardzo koszykówka rządziła jego życiem. Kochał ją. A najbardziej to uczucie rywalizacji, którego już nie doświadczał. Im lepszy się stawał, tym mniej zostawało mu do odkrycia. Ćwiczenie sprawiało, że rywal wydawał się jeszcze słabszy. Daiki stał na boisku i ziewał. Każdy kozioł, dwutakt, zwód i wsad przestały mieć sens. To było błędne koło. A jedynym sposobem, w jaki sobie z nim radził, było niegranie. Więc odsuwał wszystkich, którzy mieli do czynienia z tym przeklętym sportem. Zaczął od zespołu. Potem jego menadżerki i przyjaciółki — Satsuki. Kończąc na Kuroko i [Reader].  

Ze zgrozą zdał sobie sprawę, że właśnie im zarzuca coś jeszcze. Był zazdrosny. Cieszyli się tą dyscypliną. To było coś, czego pragnął, a od dawna nie mógł osiągnąć. Wciąż mieli wiele przed sobą. Bawiła ich gra. Podczas gdy on się wypalił. Z tej niegdyś jasno płonącej pasji został zaledwie tlący się ogień. Dlatego tym ciężej było mu ich widywać. Choć z nimi był najbliżej przez cały swój czas w gimnazjum.  

— Jedynym, który może mnie pokonać… — zaczął Daiki, jakby próbując się usprawiedliwić.  

— ...jesteś ty sam? — zakończyła za niego dziewczyna.  

A więc naprawdę go rozumiała. Jako chyba jedna z niewielu osób w jego otoczeniu.  

— Jestem pewna, że któregoś dnia spotkasz kogoś, kto będzie dla ciebie idealnym rywalem. — [Reader] popatrzyła mu głęboko w oczy. Chyba pierwszy raz od dawna.  

Była tak podobna do Kuroko, ale też jednocześnie inna. Dokładnie to samo powiedział mu kiedyś przyjaciel. Przez jakiś czas naprawdę mu wierzył. Grał, próbując dojrzeć moment, gdy będzie lepiej. Tylko że nigdy nie było. A potem trener złożył mu propozycję. Już nie musiał trenować. Tak długo, jak zjawiał się na oficjalnych meczach, wszystko było w porządku. Wtedy ostatecznie porzucił nadzieję na zmiany. Miał dosyć wiecznego czekania. Obietnica złożona chłopakom na sali gimnastycznej wydawała mu się ostatnia deską ratunku. Teraz, gdy rozeszli się do różnych szkół, stanowili jedyną jego szansę na poczucie choć części tego, co kiedyś. Był jednak pewny, że ich umiejętności nie wystarczą, by stanowić zagrożenie, a co dopiero go pokonać. Ta myśl ciążyła w jego umyśle od dawna.  

— Zamierzam się dostać na zawody krajowe — oznajmiła [Reader]. — Może wtedy uznasz mnie za godnego przeciwnika. — Na jej twarzy zagościł lekki uśmiech. Wydawała się być nieobecna, siorbiąc swój shake. — Zagrajmy wtedy jeden na jeden jak za starych dobrych czasów.  

Nie wiedział, co odpowiedzieć. Chciał, by stała się wystarczająco silna. Z drugiej jednak strony chyba nie potrafił uwierzyć, że jest w stanie to zrobić. Bo jego zdaniem nikt nie był. Młody Aomine bezgranicznie uwierzyłby w jej możliwości. Ten starszy miał z tym problem, bo nie ufał już nikomu i niczemu. Spuścił więc wzrok, wracając do jedzenia.  

— Dzięki za burgera. Chyba pora na mnie. — Dziewczyna wstała ze swojego miejsca.  

Odeszła kilka kroków, po czym jakby pod wpływem impulsu odwróciła się.  

— Zawsze możesz do mnie zadzwonić — dodała i z tymi słowami odeszła.  

***  

— Jeszcze raz, Tetsu!  

Chłopak ponownie źle ustawił ręce. Aomine musiał podejść i je poprawić. Powinien wypchać piłkę sprzed klatki piersiowej, jeśli to miało zadziałać. Pokręcił głową.  

Daiki nie wierzył, że uczy przyjaciela gry na dzień przed meczem. Był mu jednak coś winien. Jemu i Kagamiemu. W końcu po raz pierwszy od dawna sprawili, że spojrzał na koszykówkę z ekscytacją. Z pasją, jakiej nie czuł od czasu zanim poszedł do Teikō. To było niesamowite, że przegrana aż tak napawała go nadzieją. Nareszcie pojawił się ktoś, kto stanowił prawdziwego przeciwnika. Co więcej, Seirin chciało kiedyś powtórzyć mecz.  

Wreszcie pozwolił sobie na uśmiech podczas gry. To był właśnie sport, do którego został stworzony. Rozpierało go szczęście. Koniec z leżeniem na dachu. Teraz wróci do treningu. A kiedy następnym razem spotka kogoś lepszego, wgniecie go w ziemię. Ponownie miał w życiu jakiś cel i to było wspaniałe.  

— Mam do ciebie jeszcze jedną prośbę — oznajmił Kuroko, ponownie próbując trafić do kosza.  

— Oi, nie uważasz, że strasznie dużo tych przysług? — odpowiedział rozbawiony Aomine.  

Niebieskowłosy gracz przekrzywił głowę. Już wiedział, że mu nie odpuści. W jego wzroku była ta denerwująca determinacja. Rozjaśniała blaskiem mroki nocy dookoła nich.  

— [Reader] wygrała zawody krajowe. — Wycelował i rzucił ponownie.  

— Przecież wiem. — Daiki ziewnął, oglądając kolejny raz jedno i to samo zagranie. Ćwiczyli cały wieczór.  

— Wydawało mi się, że mówiłeś, że niezbyt interesujesz się jej życiem. — To właśnie był cały jego przyjaciel. Zawsze mówił do rzeczy, zwracając uwagę na ludzi. A teraz złapał za słówka również jego.  

— Tak jakoś wyszło, że wiem — mruknął, odwracając się plecami.  

Nagie gałęzie drzew za boiskiem nie były zbytnio ciekawe, ale udawał, że bardzo go interesują. Dla świętego spokoju.  

— Myślę, że powinieneś do niej zadzwonić. — Głos Tetsuyi był cichy, ale dotarł do jego uszu.  

Nie odpowiedział. Czuł się, jakby słuchał swojego sumienia. Prawda była taka, że oglądał cały mecz [Reader]. Wysłał jej też gratulacyjnego sms-a, ale to było prawie nic. Szczególnie, że odkąd poszli do liceów, widzieli się tylko kilka razy i zwykle przypadkiem. Oprócz tego składali sobie życzenia z okazji świąt. Na tym stała teraz ich znajomość. Z jego winy. Dziewczyna kilka razy podejmowała próby odnowienia przyjaźni, ale koszykówka wciąż stała między nimi niczym niewidzialny mur. Choć o niej nie rozmawiali, zajmowała tak dużą część ich żyć, że stawało się to ciężarem. Trudno było ją omijać. W dodatku już nie mogli spędzać razem treningów jak dawniej.  

— Nie odbierze — stwierdził Aomine.  

W końcu pewnie teraz świętowała z resztą drużyny. Należało im się.  Ale czy na pewno by go odrzuciła?  Nie był wcale aż tak pewny swoich słów.  

— Myślę, że się mylisz. — Kuroko nie na darmo był nazywany Graczem Widmo. Wyrósł tuż obok niego, gdy wcale się go nie spodziewał. Mimowolnie się wzdrygnął.  Może jednak po części był duchem?  

— Co ty robisz? — spytał Daiki, widząc, jak szybko klika coś na telefonie.  

Przyjaciel podsunął mu ekran pod nos. Wybrał jej numer. Ikonka kontaktu mrugała szybko i jasno.  

— Rozłącz się! — Aomine ogarnęła panika.  

Otrzymał tylko pokręcenie głową. Zaraz potem telefon został mu wepchnięty w dłoń. Już miał wcisnąć czerwoną słuchawkę, gdy jego ręka zamarła kilka centymetrów przed celem. Nie potrafił tego zrobić. Szczególnie nie po tym, gdy z głośnika rozległo się głośne:  

— Halo? Kuroko-kun?  

Tak bardzo stęsknił się za jej głosem. Nie przeszkadzało mu, że w tle przebijały się jakieś szumy, trzaski i toasty. Pewnie żeńska część Shūtoku cieszyła się ze swojej wygranej. Liczyło się, że ona tam była.  

Minęła chwila nim się otrząsnął.  

— Tu Aomine.  

— Hej, czemu dzwonisz z telefonu Tetsu? Coś się stało? Cicho, dziewczyny. Nic nie słyszę. — Próbowała bezskutecznie zmniejszyć ilość dźwięków zakłócających rozmowę.  

— Nie, z Tetsu wszystko w porządku… — uspokoił ją chłopak. — Dzwonię, bo… dzwonię, żeby ci pogratulować.  

Wziął głęboki wdech.  Od kiedy się bał?  A już szczególnie jej. Powinien po prostu powiedzieć to, co od dawna chciał, ale na co brakowało mu odwagi.  

W myślach przeklął przyjaciela. Zawsze w końcu wychodziło na to, że miał rację.  

— Wiem, widziałam twoją wiadomość. Nawet ci odpisałam. — Dziewczyna zaśmiała się cicho.  

— To nie koniec… dzwonię, żeby przeprosić. Za wszystko… Zrobię to lepiej, kiedy znowu się spotkamy… I chcę powiedzieć, że jeśli dalej masz ochotę kiedyś ze mną zagrać, to jestem gotowy.  

Na moment po drugiej stronie słychać było jedynie odgłosy z tła. Nie był już pewny, czy dobrze postąpił.  Może trzeba było użyć innych słów? Albo zrobić to w lepszym momencie?  Serce waliło mu niczym młot. Zdenerwował się do tego stopnia, że wstrzymał oddech.  

— Jesteś może teraz na boisku? — Pytanie całkowicie zbiło go z tropu.  

— Tak, przed stadionem — potwierdził Daiki, nie rozumiejąc, do czego zmierza.  

— Lepiej, żebyś był w formie. Zamierzam wygrać! Widzimy się za dwadzieścia minut. — Z tymi słowami rozłączyła się.  

Aomine spoglądał na telefon, czując, jak na jego twarz kolejny raz tego dnia wstępuje uśmiech. Już wiedział, że to będzie dobry mecz...  

[ultimatejunkofan]

God self loathing Junko is such a brainworm of mine. So many people just see her as a narcissistic psychopath but to me she is truley sekf loathing, she hates herself and everything she is stuck hurting people clisest to her, she cant trust anyone and nobody can trust her cause anyonevwho does ebds up dead or worse. Like a wild aninal backed into a corner lashing out at the world that cursed her with this hopeless fate. Her cry/laughing in zero really is duch a moment i replay in my mind a bunch,in my eyes that was the moment she truly gave into despair/her "Junko" form knowing the only person sge could love couldn't fix her or live with her as she was.

She isnt someone who turned her back on hope abd chose despair, shes someone who hope avoided lije a plague and she decided if she had to live in this hopeless existence she didnt want to exist like that and decided to tear the world apart, show them even a fraction of the despsir she was in. THH was her final act of defiance, in my mind sge went in kniwing sge would die and was set to go out in the most extravagant way possible

Is she justified? God no, she was a monster who decided if she couldn't feel hope that nobody else should. But is she just a mindless psycho? No, it was just another of her masks to protect her true self

[yourstarvic]

Summary: Fate is a funny thing. Moments happen when you don't know their fate or on purpose. Meeting Kuroo outside of the palace walls, events accord that made him become your personal guard. But what happens when the cocky male helps you try and win another heart when you're only falling for him? And is he slowly falling for you, the crown princess? But was this fated? Or was it planned?

Kuroo Tetsuro X Reader

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Are we there yet?”

“We should be there soon,” You replied with a soft sigh. Pausing your reading, you place your back down on your lap. Pulling the soft curtains to the side, you looked out of the carriage window. Seeing the beautiful landscape of the open field of green. Leaning your head against the wall, you thought of what this “vacation” would entail. Having to go to a Duches's party, fun as it sounds, would be draining knowing your father only sent you to find a candidate that would be the next king. 

“When I was told we were going on a vacation,” Kuroo hummed, bringing his foot down from the cushion of your seats to the floor, “I was hoping I wouldn’t come along.”

“We are going to the country,” You sat back, raising your eyebrow at him, “for a vacation. Why did you think you weren’t coming along?”

“I was hoping to be away from you.”

“We can’t always get the things we want.”

“Funny,” Kuroo's face holds seriousness to it. “Coming from a princess who gets anything and everything she wants.”

Pursing your lips together, you quietly muttered, “I don’t always.”

Decided to spend the rest of the time dozing off, you tried to distract your mind from actives you and your ladies could do. Having missed them due to them leaving early to arrive at Chilgrave Castle. You were even excited to see Lady Daphne, surprised to have missed her lessons. Yet knowing her, she’ll sneak in a lesson or two, saying it would help to keep your skills sharp. It brought a smile at the thought, helping me feel at peace knowing there will be people from home.

“I know I am a very much good-looking, princess,” Kuroo snapped you out of your trance, making you realize that you were zoning out with your eyes open. Eyes open and looking at him with a content smile. “And you were bound to fall in love with me, so please notify me when you do.”

With the smile dropped, you rolled your eyes at your bodyguard, “I loathe you.”

“Oh don’t lie to me princess,” Kuroo teased, leaning a bit forward toward you. A smirk he always wore that annoyed you to no end, “I know your true feelings about me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” You replied back to him, matching his teasing tone. Leaning a bit forward to him, you noticed how his smirk grew and it brought you satisfaction for what you said next and dropped it to a frown. Jagging a finger at him, you finished, “Especially with how annoyed, childish, persistent, and let’s not forget full headed of yourself.”

The satisfaction of seeing his smirk drop felt good, the feeling was then later squished down as he smirked and appeared again, “Don’t forget deviously handsome. If I remember correctly, you wrote sculpted by-”

The carriage suddenly shooked, making you and Kuroo move around the carriage. You went further back in your seat while Kuroo, trying to stop lunging, ended up closer to you. His hand slammed on the wall behind you, caging you in. With his face directly over yours, you hand your hand on his chest, helping him from not crashing into you. “What happened?” You asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Kuroo muttered, looking down at you. “Are you alright?”

“Princess,” You heard Suna’s voice yell from the outside. Hearing him quickly rushing to the door, he burst it open, “Princess, are alright?…”

“I’m fine,” You smiled, pushing Kuroo’s chest lightly, to which he got the hint and moved back to sit on his seat. You did not notice the harsh look Suna gave to Kuroo. A look of panic and anger was painted on his face as he saw how close he was to you. “But is everything alright? What happened?”

“One of the wheels broke,” Suna stated, holding a hand out to you to assist you out of the carriage. You then took note that one corner of the carriage was favoring one side. With you out of the carriage, you see the damage to the wheel. 

Ignoring Kuroo, Suna paid most of his attention to you, leaving him to struggle out of the carriage. Ignoring his sarcastic, “Thank you for the help!”

“We are just an hour or two away from Chilgrave Castle,” Suna sighed, “but it will take a while to repair the damages. I say it’s best you and I will take a horse-“

“Ahem.”

Pausing in his sentence, Suna did his best not to roll his eyes, “You, Kuroo, and I, will take a horse and finish the journey. That way you will arrive there safely. I know how long these journeys could be and you must be exhausted.”

“Thank you, Suna,” You smiled, “but I think it’s best if you stay with your men and oversee the repairs. Your father was a Cartwright, he must have taught you when you were a child?”

“Well, yes,” Suna hummed, “but your safety is my first priority.”

“Actually,” Kuroo cut in, joining the conversation. “That is my priority. And as much as it pains me to say this, I agree with her. Unless you wish to spare me from her gloating later, is there another who could assist in fixing the wheel?”

Out of the few men Suna brought and the driver, none knew how to fix it. Knowing this, Suna merely sighed, not wanting to push on the subject, “Very well, you can take my horse to continue the journey. But it seems you both will need to share a horse.”

“That is fine,” You smiled, placing a hand on Suna’s arm, and you comfort him. “I will be alright. Focus on fixing the wheel soon as possible and head to the castle. A warm meal and bath will be waiting for you all.”

“Thank you, Princess,” he nodded, moving away to bring forth his horse. Handing the reins to you, you grab hold with one hand while the other patted the beaut. “Wilbur will make sure you will arrive there fast and steady. Best horse of the Kingdom.”

“I thought Atsumu had to have the best horse?” You teased, feeling Wilbur's soft black hair on your fingers.

“Atsumu is an idiot.”

“That we agree on,” You laughed. With Kuroo moving to the mount of the horse, you soon followed, sitting behind him. 

With the reigns now in Kuroo’s hand, Kuroo gave a stern nod to Suna, and a silent promise fell between them. As quick as the promise was formed, Kuroo mounted the reins and softly kicked Wilbur, commanding him to start running and heading forward. Leaving Suna and his men behind, your arms were tightly wrapped around Kuroo’s waist, and your face nuzzled his back, enjoying the rise you felt the wind passing by.

“I must say,” Peaking your head over Kuroo’s shoulder, you laid your chin on him, enjoying the leisure trot, “this is really relaxing. Seems this might be an actual vacation.”

“Was it not going to be?”

“Do you not know?” 

“Know what?” Kuroo eyed you in the corner of his eye, moving his body to the side to have a better look at you.

Hearing a deep sigh escaping you, Kuroo felt the hold on his shirt tighten. Looking down he saw your hands clenched into a fist with his shirt in them. “My father,” You hesitated, before correcting yourself, something Kuroo took note of. “The King, sent me out to the country to attend Duchess Dana's party and to meet her son, Edward.”

“And that is bad?”

“Edward is a candidate, so to speak,” You spoke heavily and dryly. “Whomever I marry needs to be perfect to be the next ruler after my father.”

“Wait,” Kuroo halted the horse, and patted the side of Wilbur's head when he whined at the ting of the reigns. “You are not to rule? Whomever you marry is?”

“It seems so,” You moved your head to the side, your cheek now resting on his shoulder as you stared at the scene. “Figured you would know, probably happy that a woman won’t have to rule.”

“Do you think that low of me?”

“Do you really want to know?” You tried to convey a teasing tone to your voice.

“(Y/n).”

Your head perks up. The tone of his voice was so stern, so commanding, and yet so silent. No titles, no pet names, no nothing, just your name. Tilting your head up, you saw Kuroo staring forward, hitting the reins once more to signal Wilbur to continue moving. Feeling the tension surrounding you both, you opt it was best for him not to know, feeling guilty that you did. “That doesn’t matter.”

The rest of the ride was silent.

Arriving at the courtyard of the Chilgrave Castle, you smiled as you saw your ladies rushing out of the doors and down the steps to greet you. With Wilbur coming to a stop, you quickly jumped off, meeting your ladies with a tight hug. “Oh, have I missed you both!” You squealed, smiles erupting on all your faces.

“When we saw you and Kuroo on the horse we become scared,” Yachi pulled away, looking at you and down.

“Where is your carriage?” Kiyoko asked, looking behind and saw Kuroo getting down at the horse, holding the reigns, and handing it off to the servant. “Where’s Sir Suna and the guards?”

“On their way,” You assured them, “The wheel broke and Suna thought it would be best if we finished the journey on horseback.”

“No matter,” You heard Lady Daphne’s voice cut through. With your Ladies moving to the side, their heads slightly down and hands overlapping each other in front of them. With her graceful walking down the steps, her harsh cold glare became softer. “A lady should never ride horseback when traveling, especially for long distances. One should wait until the carriage is fixed. But I am glad you arrived safe, your highness.”

“It’s good to see you too Lady Daphne.”

“Now I believe your ladies should escort you to your room. I will send out a party to see if Suna and his men need any assistance and help them arrive here safely. And Kuroo, I wish to speak to you privately.”

With your ladies chatting with you, filling you in on the latest gossip and exciting events that were to happen, you peeked over your shoulder. Your lips tug down as you saw Kuroo avoiding eyes from your being, looking to the side, and waiting for whatever Lady Daphne had to say. Trying to ignore the feeling of guilt that plagued your mind, you looked back forward and listen to what your ladies were saying, bringing back a gleeful, exciting smile. 

“Kuroo, walk with me.”

Walking on the side of the castle on the loud gravel, Kuroo slowly walked with her, his head scanning around the grounds. The peaceful state, beautify with trees surrounding the castle, allowing the long-needed privacy that usually does not come with royalty. Walking deeper into the estate they came to a garden that Kuroo had to admit, was beautiful. 

“As you know, there is a ball that will be held in one week,” Lady Daphne started, to which Kuroo's only response was a hum. “And I, being the Princess’s escort, it is expected that I will attend. You being the Princess’s personal protector, are expected to join as well.”

“I am aware.”

“But you don’t have the social skill do you?” Kuroo stayed silent, stopping when Lady Daphne stopped to look at him. “I was going to teach you when it came closer to her birthday ball but now is better to prepare you for it.”

“And here I thought this was supposed to be a vacation,” Kuroo chuckled, joking about the events. “Is this all you wanted to speak about?”

“No,” She sighed. “Duchess Dana has a son, Edward. His majesty wishes Princess (Y/n) to meet with him once more.”

“Once more?”

“They were childhood friends,” Frowning at her words. “But they are rumors, gossip about that man. He is not as noble as he says he is.”

“And you wish for me to keep an eye on the Princess?”

“No, rather I want you to find evidence.”

Feeling odd at her request, Kuroo thought of why she would ask him such a thing. Trying to find a tell on Lady Daphne’s face, he took note of how serious the matter is. “Why not tell his majesty?”

With a shock of her head, Daphne was quick to dismiss the idea, “He will not believe what I have to say without a man agreeing with evidence.” Given how to convince your father was thinking Edward would be the perfect match, he fails to realize what sort of husband Edward may be. “That is why, you will help me.”

“You wish for me to spy on him?”

“I wish for you to help pick a candidate,” She corrected. “Suitors know they must have my approval first before meeting with his majesty for the princess’s hand. What they will not know is they would need your approval as well.”

Scrunching his face in hesitation and skepticism, he crossed his arms, confused as to why she would think such an idea. “Why would they need my approval?”

She merely sighed, pinching her lips together as to why he didn’t understand his opinion mattered, “Since they do not care about you nor your opinion of them, they will not masquerade themselves. They will reveal who they are to you.”

“I see,” Kuroo hummed. Nodding his head as he now understood her, Kuroo clicked his tongue, “I rather not do that.”

“What?”

“That’s already much work that requires of me,” he stated. “Firstly, I have to protect the princess’s well-being and now I must protect her heart?”

“Not her heart,” Daphne looked away in pity. Something that Kuroo easily picked up and felt his chest twinge in hate. Correcting him, Daphne held her head high as she did so, “Her kingdom.”

Kuroo stayed quiet. What else could he say? No matter his response was, he knew Lady Daphne would still seek his opinion of the suitors. So, why not gain something from her? “Only if you do me a favor in the future.”

Throughout the week, you spend most of your time with your ladies. Each kept you up to date on the latest gossip of the nobility that lived in the country or on vacation. Informing you of the latest trends, concerning you with what dress to wear based on the style. With all the new information given to you, you found it difficult to retain each new knowledge. In the back of your mind, you grew worried about Kuroo. Rarely had seen him around the castle, when asked where is his, your ladies would shrug their shoulders, unaware of what and where he could be. There was a moment when you and he did spend time together. But it was as tense and tight as the horse ride, if not then more. Tried to humor him and tease him as before, tried to anger him, upset him, or anything, yet he gave no reaction. Excusing himself, stated he had other business to do.

With the day being Duchess Dana ball, you tried to push back the ill feeling and focus on preparing yourself. Your ladies helped you in any and all ways they could. Fixing your hair, doing your makeup, helping you in the tightly fitted corset of a dress. Dressed and appropriately fitting for a royal princess. Standing in your room, looking at yourself in the mirror and you had a giggling smile as you twirled in your dress, admiring the beautiful dark hue of the green that complimented your skin. With your ladies already left to the ball, scouting around and being your little spies. Excited to see what rumors will be revealed as truth or just merely gossip. While you, wanted nothing more than practice on your pianoforte, or read, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do but you do know you did not want to go to the ball. Did not want to see Edward.

“My lady,” the door of your chambers creaked open, revealing a servant who bowed their head upon seeing you. “It is now time. Please, allow me to escort you.”

“Thank you,” You turned to smile at her. Glancing yourself once more at the mirror, you patted down the skirt before following her out of the room. Walking down the many halls and steps of the castle to reach the entrance, you noticed there was a spring in your step. Maybe you were excited? The buzz feeling in your chest, your stomach churning in excitement, the ways your hands kept smoothing the silk on your dress, you enjoyed the feeling so much you actually thought you might burst. Arriving at the foyer of the castle, you saw Lady Daphne and Kuroo having a conversation. Slowly walking down the steps, the clicking of your heels alerted them of your presence. Stopping their serious conversation, they both looked at you, one with proud admiration and the other in awe.

“You look beautiful princess,” Lady Daphne complimented you, giving you a small bow as she did so. She smiled as you gracefully walked up to her and Kuroo. Eyeing the man beside her, she cleared her throat, breaking him out of his trance, “Isn’t that correct Kuroo?”

“Yes,” He cleared his throat, trying not to let eyes wonder, “your dress is very, exquisite.”

Shocked by his compliment, you only nodded your head slowly as the corner of your lips twitched. “Thank you,” You whispered.

Lady Daphne becomes beckoned with her hand. “Shaw we head out?”

Leaving the inside of the castle and heading out to the courtyard, a beautiful gold-trimmed carriage was waiting for the three of you. With you all inside the carriage, the carriage then started its journey to Duchess Dana's estate. Thankfully, the estate wasn’t so far from the castle. Sadly, with the ride going so short, Lady Daphne was quick to give you a lecture, telling you the do’s and don’t’s of tonight. “And absolutely,” Lady Daphne hissed, giving you a pointed look. Something that you turned your head away with guilt, “No running off. Especially outside. Am I understood?”

You only stayed silent, not wanting to promise her anything. Knowing yourself so well, you know you would run quickly out to the terrace for some fresh air, disregarding the unspoken rule of needing to have an escort when going out. Especially somewhere so secluded from the prying eyes of society. 

Lady Daphne did not enjoy your silence and did not accept your silence as agreement, so she repeated this question. With a more harsh, hissing voice coming from her, you blurted, “I understood Lady Daphne. I promise I will not wander off.”

Kuroo watched the interaction with worried confusion. His eyes dart from your annoyed expression to Lady Daphne’s worried lace with annoyance, similar to a pesky mother to a child. “If I may interject,” Kuroo chuckled, concern and a hint of fear, praying what he thought isn’t what they implied. “She tends to wonder? As in wonder outside? Wonder out to the open fields where anyone can take her?”

“She tends to.”

“If anyone is concerned,” You rolled your eyes with a huff, “nothing happens when I do.”

Kuroo leaned back in his seat, exhaustion flooding his body as another chore was placed upon him. Ignoring the banter that was going on between you and Lady Daphne, he closed his eyes, thinking this will be his only time to be able to relax. Praying the evening will go by quickly and with no troubles. Especially no troubles.

Taglist: @lena-davina @strcwberri @boosyboo9206 @lilith4124266 @rukia-uchiha-98 @uselesscafe @usermins @venussyy

[shepherds-of-haven]

For the writing ask meme:

What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

What is your deepest joy about writing?

Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage. (i’m not picking one, just grab something that was fun to write!)

Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

-emeraldgreaves

What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

My writing ritual, up until around May, was like a little bit cursed: I'd typically write from 10 PM to around 4 or 5 AM, which is obviously not great. I'd also put on a show that was guaranteed to not distract me on extremely low volume (like 1 out of 100) in the background, so a show I'd seen a million times before, like the Office or Bob's Burgers.

Since coming back from a trip to Europe, though, I saw an opportunity to reset a schedule I'd kept to for the last 12 years and have now been rising and writing at a more appropriate time! Nowadays my writing ritual is going to the library, putting on fantasy or TTRPG orchestral music (particularly by Ivan Duch, who is composing the music for the game) in my earbuds, and clacking away! This ritual is only cursed in that some really weird shit happens sometimes at the library, but sometimes I get around that by reserving a study room for myself or me and my partner. 😌

What is your deepest joy about writing?

Hmmm, it seems cheap to say all of it! I think the satisfaction of completing a story that you've not only mapped out and plotted through, but actually executed, and then elicited strong emotional responses from others (hopefully as according to plan) as a result of all of that hard work is a truly joyful thing to experience. But just writing about the characters, exploring their psychology, and especially building their relationships to each other is also a huge part of it, and it's also a joy to explore and flesh out and create an entire new world for them to exist in... I just love all of it!

Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage. (i’m not picking one, just grab something that was fun to write!)

Around him, Scythia stirred to life beneath the skin-soaking warmth of early morning. It was just past dawn, so the heat of the day was not yet beating down on the city like a hammer against an anvil; but in an hour or two, it would edge close to brutal. Herald tipped his head back and let himself absorb the sights and sounds of the city while he still could. Long-necked white herons—called sword-birds for their vicious beaks—dueled together in lazy displays in the streets. Charcoal-eyed concurs beckoned him from curtained doorways, then caught sight of his own brand of ownership and looked away. There was the heavy, acrid scent of fuel and machine oil as he passed the Metal District, where mechanics in their garages toiled away on the racers and war rigs that crisscrossed the Badlands in choking clouds of dust. Underneath a shabby awning, a suntouched fortune-teller gave advice to a lean, restless merc with scarred shoulders and a face studded with fearsome metal rings.

This is from my current novel manuscript, which I keep telling people is like a cross between Mad Max and X-Men, but it's really evolved to become this more magical and intricate science fantasy, because I can't stay away from magic and humanoid/alien races and disparate cultures and, like, oppression and persecution, I guess. I really thought it was going to be a gritty dieselpunk adventure with machine guns and monster trucks and things, which it still has, but I think this passage (from the first chapter) kind of showcases its latest vibe, which is a bit more mystical and fantastical, as well. I've rewritten the first chapter at least five or six times, with this particular passage only being appended in the fourth or so iteration, so I think it's a good way of seeing (to me, the only one who read the first few drafts) how far the world has come, when the city and its environs weren't really described at all! I also just like the rhythm of the passage: there's something about it that feels satisfying. :)

Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

It's an absolute vital necessity to me. It actively bothers me when I see the Oxford comma not being used... I will always use the Oxford comma. You could pry it from my cold, dead hands and I'd still be using it on my gravestone!

[afaimscorner]

Top 15 ganz besondere Marvel Comics Serien:

Der erste Trailer zu „Thunderbolts *“ hat mich traurig gemacht, denn obwohl es mich freut, dass dieser Film prinzipiell kommt, finde ich die Thunderbolts einfach zu besonders um einen Null-Acht-Fünfzehn „Die fragwürdigeren Charaktere schließen sich zu einem Team zusammen“-Film daraus zu machen. Mir wäre eine treue Verfilmung der Thunderbolt, egal zu welcher Ära ihrer Existenz, lieber gewesen. Doch in Zeiten, in denen Serien wie „She-Hulk: Attorny at Law“ oder „Agatha All Along“ die Öffentlichkeit bereits überfordern, ist es wohl leider unrealistisch von einem mutigen MCU zu träumen, das die ungewöhnlicheren der Comics, auf denen es zu basieren behauptet, tatsächlich verfilmen würde. Deswegen hier eine Liste der Top Marvel Comic-Serien, die wir nie verfilmt sehen werden, weil sie zu ungewöhnlich sind (sprich zu gut sind) um ins MCU zu passen (außer Jac Schaeffer legt doch noch mal Hand an, vielleicht):

Marvels Vol. 1 (1993-1994) (Alex Ross, Kurt Busiek, Steve Darnell) + Marvels: Epilogue (2019) (Alex Ross, Kurt Busiek)

Alex Ross‘ und Kurt Busieks „Mavels“ aus der Mitte der 90er war schon immer etwas Besonderes. Denn hier geht es nicht um Superhelden als solche, sondern um einen normalen Menschen, der in einer Welt der Superhelden lebt und diese miterlebt. Reporter Phil Sheldon erlebt die Geburt des Zeitalters der Mavels live mit und altert duch die Marvel Zeitlinie hindurch in Realzeit mit all dem mit. Zusammen mit Busieks Fortsetzung „Marvels: Eye of the Camera“ und den Epilog von 2019 zum 25. Jährigen Jubliäum der Serie umspannt das Leben der Familie Sheldon das ganze Marvel Universum und zeigt es von einer vollkommen anderen Seite als man es gewohnt ist.

2. Thunderbolts Vol. 1 (1997-2012) (Kurt Busiek, Roger Stern, Fabien Nicieza, Warren Ellis, Jeff Park, Mark Bagley uv.m.)

In der heutigen Comic-Industrie wäre so etwas wie die Original Thunderbolts nicht mehr möglich. Den ursprünglich wurden diese neuen Helden in anderen Serien eingeführt, bevor ihre eigene startete, und erst in dieser wurde enthüllt, dass das neue Heldenteam, das nach dem Tod der Rächer und der Fantastischen Vier in den Blickpunkt der Öffentlichkeit trat, in Wahrheit gar kein neues Heldenteam war, sondern die Masters of Evil, die sich als Helden ausgaben um so einen besonderen Plan umsetzen zu können. Doch siehe da im Laufe der Zeit begannen manche der angeblichen Helden tatsächlich Helden sein zu wollen, woraufhin sie nach der Rückkehr der Rächer zu einem tatsächlichen Heldenteam wurden, das aus ehemaligen Schurken bestand, die gelobten besser sein zu wollen. Hawkeye übernahm die urspürnliche heldenhafte Aufsicht über das Team.Im Laufe der Zeit änderten sich Besetzung, Autoren und Aufpasser sowie Methoden und Ziel des Teams (inklusive einem Suicide Squad Rip-Off-Moment mit Naninten und Norman Osborn als sozusgen Chef), doch die Prämisse, dass das hier Bösewichte sind, die Gutes tun, blieb immer gleich. Solange bis die Serie in „Dark Avengers“ umbenannt wurde und damit verkündete, dass sie nun ähnlich aber doch unter anderen Titel und damit anders weitergehen würde. Ganze 15 Jahre lang lief Marvels größtes Experiment und war nicht ohne Grund über weite Strecken seiner Laufzeit ein absoluter Fan-Liebling und Must Read.

3. Spider-Girl: Spider-Girl (1998-2006) (Tom DeFalco, Ron Frenz, Pat Olliffe) + Amazing Spider-Girl Vol. 1 (2006-2009) (Tom DeFalco, Ron Frenz) + Spectacular Spider-Girl Vol. 1+2 (2009-2010, 2010) (Tom DeFalco, Ron Frenz) + Spider-Girl: The End (2010) (Tom DeFalco, Ron Frenz)

May „Mayday“ Parkers erster Auftritt wurde ursprünglich als Teil von „What if?“ veröffentlicht: „Was wäre wenn Spider-Man und Mary Janes Tochter überlebt hätte?“ fragte das „What if?“ von Tom DeFalco und Ron Frenz und präsentiert uns May als Teenagerin, die entdeckt, dass sie Spinnenkräfte hat, da ihr Vater offenbar eine geheime Vergangenheit besitzt, von der sie bis jetzt nichts wusste. Aus dieser Grundidee erwuschs ein ganzes Universum, das sogenannte MC2-Universum (Marvel Continuity 2), dessen Herzstück und einizg wahrer Erfolg immer Spider-Girl war. Bis 2010 kämpften May und ihre Fans um ihr Überleben, seit dem ist das einzig wahre Spider-Girl immer wieder in Spider-Verse-Events und Serien zu sehen, ihr Universum musste einiges durmachen, was dann wieder rückgängig gemacht wurde (wegen erboster Fans), aber egal welchen Unsinn Marvel auch dreht, uns wird immer die ursprüngliche Serie (bzw. Serien) bleiben, und die gehört zu den besten Marvel AUs aller Zeiten, gerade auch wie Tom DeFalco das Marvel Universum und dessen Zukunft praktisch eigenhändig neu erfinden konnte, und das sehr gekonnt an allen Fronten tut.

4. Universe X: Earth X Vol. 1 (1999-2000) (Jim Krueger, Alex Ross, John Paul Leon) + Universe X Vol. 1 (2000-2001) (Jim Krueger, Alex Ross , Doug Braithwaith) + Paradise X: Heralds (2001-2002) (Jim Krueger, Alex Ross, Steve Pugh) + Paradise X Vol 1. (2002-2003) ) (Jim Krueger, Alex Ross , Doug Braithwaith) + Diverse Specials

Bei DC herrschen die Nazis auf Erde-X, bei Marvel hatte Erde-X nicht wirklich was mit den X-Men zu tun (auch wenn sie darin eine Rolle spielen), sondern wir befinden uns in einer von Jim Krueger und Alex Ross geschaffenen Zukunft, in der praktisch alle Menschen zu Inhumans geworden sind und Superhelden daher mehr oder weniger überflüssig geworden sind. Das "Earth-X“-Universum (das übrigens vor kurzem einen neuen Eintrag erhalten hat, der auch zu empfehlen ist) erzählt dabei aber nicht nur von der Zukunft, sondern enthüllt auch Geheimnisse der Vergangenheit (die heute großteils natürlich im wahren Canon längst ganz anders enthüllt wurden) und erklärt das Marvel Universum auf bis dahin nicht gekannte Weise Auch wenn wir diesen Serien die Ehe von Storm und Black Panther zu verdanken haben, ist der Rest davon überaus lesenswert und einzigartig, weil alles ein Ende nimmt, und zwar nicht auf eine Weise, die irgendjemand hätte kommen sehen.

5. X-Satix: X-Force Vol. 1 116- 129 (2001-2002) (Peter Milligan, Mike Allred) + X-Statix Vol 1 (2002-2004) (Peter Milligan, Mike Allred)

Die Leser von „X-Force“ staunten nicht schlecht, als nach dem scheinbaren Tod von X-Force in „X-Force 115“ im nächsten Heft einfach ein vollkommen anderes Team auf dem Cover und im Mittelpunkt der Handlung zu finden war und sich der Stil der Serie mit einem Schlag vollkommen änderte. Das neue Team bestand ausschließlich aus neu erfundenen Charakteren, die auch keine Superhelden im klassischen Sinn waren, sondern Reality-Stars, die für Quoten so taten als wären sie Superhelden. Dieses Team, X-Statix, lief offenbar erfolgreich genug, dass man sich entschloss ihnen ihre eigene Serie zu geben und so den falschen Titel „X-Force“ außen vor zu lassen. Peter Milligan sollte zwar einige Jahre später die X-Men selbst schreiben, hatte sich zum damaligen Zeitpunkt aber noch wegen mangelnder Vertrautheit mit der Materie geweigert bekannte Charaktere in seiner Serie einzusetzen. Außerdem gehörte es zum Stil von X-Statix, dass am laufenden Band Team-Mitglieder starben und ersetzt wurden, kein Wunder also dass OCs her mussten. Die parodistische Natur der Serie verhinderte natürlich, dass sie zu ernst genommen werden konnte (trotzdem wurde eine Storyline, in der es um Lady Di hätte gehen sollen begraben bzw. umgeschrieben), zugleich war „X-Satix“ aber erstaunlich gut darin dem Leser das Herz aus der Brust zu reißen, wenn das am wenigsten zu erwarten gewesen wäre. Jedes Jahrzehnt einmal sollte Milligan in der Zukunft eine Fortsetzungserie nachschieben, doch die Qualität seiner Original-Serie sollte er nie wieder erreichen können.

6. NYX (2003-2005) (Joe Quesada, Joshua Middleton, Robert Teraminski)

Joe Quesadas „NYX“-Serie war eine schwere Geburt. Im Laufe von drei Jahren erschienen nur sieben Ausgaben, was selbst für problematische Marvel-Serien eine Art Rekord sein dürfte. Die andere Sache ist, dass die Serie zwar Mutanten in den Mittelpunkt stellt, aber abseits der eigentlichen X-Kontinuität spielt, da nur neue Charaktere ohne sichtbaren Zusammenhang mit den X-Men im Mittelpunkt stehen. X-23 hat zwar ihr Comic-Debüt in dieser Serie (ursprünglich wurde sie für die X-Animation-Serie der 2000er erfunden), ihre Verbindung zu Wolverine wird in der Serie selbst aber noch nicht angesprochen. Lange Zeit war sie auch das einzige Element, das jemals den Übergang in reguläre X-Kontinuität schaffte. Nachdem aber nichts anderes, was in der Serie passiert, im Widerspruch zu dieser steht, wurde die Geschehnisse, die hier geschildert werden, spätestens mit der Fortsetzungsserie „No Way Home“ 2008 in den Canon integriert. Die Idee hinter „NYX“ war es das tägliche Leben von den verschiedensten Mutanten außerhalb der Superheldenszene in New York zu zeigen, und gerade deswegen und wegen dem harten Unterton wurde die Serie so berühmt wie sie es schließlich werden sollte.

7. The Pulse Vol. 1 (2004-2006) (Brian Michael Bendis, Mark Bagley, Brent Anderson, Michael Lark, Michael Gaydos)

Nach dem Ende ihrer ersten Solo-Serie „Alias“ wurde Jessica Jones in „The Pulse“ von der Privatdetektivin und Leibwächterin zur Reporterin für den guten alten Jonah Jameson. Jessica ist nach wie vor eine ungewöhnliche Heldin, die genau das eben nicht sein will, eine Heldin, und dieses Mal hinterfragt sie das Universum, in dem sie lebt, auch deutlicher als zuvor. Von der journalistischen Seite aufgerollt, wenn man will, zeigt uns „The Pulse“ das Marvel-Universum von einer anderen Seite als die meisten anderen Serien damals. Eigentlich hätte Paul Jenkins die Serie mit seiner Reporterin Sally Floyd (siehe weiter unten) übernehmen und weiterführen sollen, doch leider wurde daraus nie etwas, was Schade ist, weil wir „The Pulse“ bis heute vermissen.

8. Cable & Deadpool Vol. 1 (2004-2008) (Fabian Nicieza, Mark Brooks, Patrick Zircher, Staz Johnson, Reilly Brown)

Ähnlich legendär wie „Green Lantern/Green Arrow“ von diesem Konkurrenzverlag, kam „Cable & Deadpool“ aus ähnlichen Gründen wie der sozialkritischere Vorgänger zu Stande: Weder „Cable“ noch „Deadpool“ verkauften sich alleine gut genug, also steckte man sie in eine gemeinsame Serie. Und es war ein Paar, das im Himmel gemacht worden war: Der ernste Messias aus der apokalyptischen Zukunft und der Söldner mit der Großen Klappe, die eigentlich nicht einmal im gleichen Raum miteinander sein sollten, geschweigedenn in der selben Serie, das konnte nur ein großes Desaster oder ein großer Hit werden. Es wurde ein Hit. Zu schade, dass die Macher der Deadpool-Filme nicht wirklich begriffen haben warum, und die beiden zusammen als Team auf der Großen Leinwand eher ein leeres als ein erfülltes Versprechen waren. Lesenswert ist ihre gemeinsame Serie auf jeden Fall, nicht nur wegen dem Kulturclash, sondern auch wegen wirklich guten Stories am laufenden Band. (Was mehr ist als man über spätere Versuche Deadpool neu zu „verkuppeln“ sagen kann).

9. Paul Jenkins Front Line: Civil War: Front Line (2006-2007) + World War Hulk: Front Line (2007) (Paul Jenkins, Ramon Bachs, Steve Lieber u.a.)

Die ersten beiden „Front Line“-Serien waren noch wahre Events. Es handelte sich um Tie-In-Serien zu Civil War bzw. World War Hulk und zeige Jenkins Reporterin Sally Floyd und Marvel Reporter der Sonderklasse Ben Urich an den Frontlinie der jeweiligen Kriege zwischen den Superhelden, die dabei Kollateralschäden so wie die Verrücktheit dieser Bürgerkriege live mitbekamen. Aber das waren nur die Hauptstories, es gab auch immer von Jenkins geschriebene Nebenstories, die die Auswirkungen der Geschehnisse auf andere Charaktere zeigten und dabei neue Facetten eröffenten und die Crossover Events besser machten als sie es eigentlich waren. Es gab noch eine dritte Front Line-Serie zu „Secret Invasion“, die aber nicht mehr von Jenkins geschrieben war und auch nur noch eine Hauptstory besaß.

10. Generation M  (2006) (Paul Jenkins, Ramon Bachs)

M-Day war das eine X-Bücher-Event, das alles veränderte. Mit dem Ende des verlagsweiten Crossovers „House oft he M“ sprach Scarlet Witch die drei Worte: „Keine Mutanten mehr“,und danach war für erstaunlich lange Zeit nichts mehr so wie es zuvor gewesen war. Die regulären X-Men-Serien beschäftigten sich danach natürlich vor allem mit den Auswirkungen des Verschwindens des X-Gens auf die Mutanten, aber auch diverse Mini-Serien erschienen, die sich diesem Ereignis widmeten. „Generation M“ war die erste, wichtigste und beste von diesen Mini-Serien. In ihr lässt Autor Paul Jenkins die Reporterin Sally Floyd die Folgen des M-Days auf politischer, sozialer und persönlicher Ebene untersuchen. Selten wurden Tragödien im Marvel Universum so persönlich beleuchtet und haben dabei so stark getroffen wie hier.

11. The Irredeemable Ant-Man Vol. 1 (2006-2007) (Robert Kirkman, Phil Hester, Cory Walker)

Kirkmans Serie um den dritten Ant-Man ist, gleich vorweg, das genaue Gegenteil von seinen größten Hits (sprich „The Walking Dead“ und „Invincible“). Anstatt düstere Realität ist „Irredeamable Ant-Man“ eine Satire, in der es zwar wirklich brutal zugeht, deren Hauptfigur ihre Kräfte aber vor allem dazu benutzt um Frauen unter der Dusche zu bespannen und sich vor Gefahren in Sicherheit zu bringen anstatt diese zu bekämpfen. Eric O’Grady war Shield-Agent, der eine Ant-Man Anzug findet, worauf das Unglück seinen Lauf nimmt. Das hört sich jetzt vor allem witzig an, trifft aber trotzdem oft genug erstaunlich hart ins Herz.

12. Nova Vol. 4 (2007-2010) (Dan Abnett, Andy Lanning, Sean Chen, Brian Denham, Wellington Alves u.a.)

Dan Abnett und Andy Lanning übernahmen Mitte der Naughties die nach „Annihilation“ eigentlich zum Untergang verdammten Weltraum-Serien von Marvel und erschufen zwei sehr große Fan-Lieblinge. Einer davon war „Guardians of the Galaxy“, zum ersten Mal in der moderenen Zusammenstellung rund um Star Lord in ihrer eigenen Serie, und der zweite war „Nova“. Und hier ist meine unpopular Opinion zu diesem Thema: „Nova“ war die bessere Serie (auch weil die Zeichnungen konstant gut waren, anders als im Fall von „Guardians“). Richard Ryder ist nicht mehr der Teenager-Held, den wir aus dem 20. Jahrhundert kennen, er ist ein traumatisierter Soldat und der einzige Überlebende des Nova Corps und die Heimat der World Mind von Xandar (und damit die Zukunft des Nova Corps). Richard ist nicht der Nova Prime, den die World Mind ausgewählt hätte, hat andere Prioritäten als ihr recht ist, und sieht immer wieder mal auf der Erde vorbei, obwohl er doch besseres zu tun hätte. Die vierte „Nova“-Serie ist ein unterschätztes Juwel unter den Marvel-Serien der Naughties, der es immer wieder gelingt zu überraschen und zu berühren und unangenehme Wahrheiten auszusprechen.

13. Dark Avengers Vol. 1 (2009-2010) (Brian Michael Bendis, Matt Fraction, Mike Deodato Jr., Luke Ross, Greg Horn) + Dark Avengers/Uncanny X-Men: Utopia + Uncanny X-Men Vol. 513+514 + Dark Avengers/Uncanny X-Men: Exodus

Gerade Mal eineinhalb Jahre gab es diese Bendis-Serie, und gefühlt jeder Autor bei Marvel war von der Grundidee so begeistert, dass er das neue Team bei sich vorkommen lassen wollte. Von dem etwas anstrengenden X-Men Crossover von X-Autor Matt Fraction einmal abgesehen, ist diese Serie auch ein vollständiger Hit. Von der Grundidee her eine Weiterentwicklung der Idee hinter den „Thunderbolts“ sind die „Dark Avengers“ das offizielle Avengers-Team unter Shield (nun Hammer genannt) unter der Leitung von Norman Osborn, der die Erde vor den Skrulls gerettet hat, weswegen er rehabilitiert wurde. Was ihn nicht davon abhält alte Rechnungen zu begleichen und seine Avengers vor allem mit den Thunderbolts und anderen Schurken zu bestücken. Offiziell sind es aber bekannte Gesichter: Wolverine, Spider-Man, Ms. Marvel, Hawkeye, zusammen mit Ares und dem größten Helden von allen, dem Sentry. Keiner weiß, dass dieses Team vor allem aus Psychopathen und ein paar naiven Idioten besteht. Oh, und das Iron Patriot und Chef Norman immer irrer wird statt gesünder. Während „Thunderbolts“ beschreibt wie Schurken besser werden, indem sie Helden spielen, dreht sich „Dark Avengers“ um Schurken, die Helden spielen, aber trotzdem Schurken bleiben, und das nicht zu knapp. Großartig in Szene gesetzt von Mike Deodato ist „Dark Avengers“ neben „Ultimate Spider-Man“ die vielleicht beste Bendis-Serie, die sich jemals zu Marvel verirrt hat.

14. Unbeatable Squirrel Girl Vol. 1 (2015) (Ryan North, Erica Henderson) + Unbeatable Squirrel Girl Vol. 2 (2015- 2020) (Ryan North, Erica Henderson, Derek Charm)

Hand aufs Herz, ich habe diese Serie nie gelesen. Aber ich empfehle sie trotzdem, weil sie mit der ersten Mini-Serie 58 Ausgaben lang lief, durchgehend vom selben Autor geschrieben wurde, und ein wahrer Fan-Liebling war, dem viele bis heute nachtrauern. „Unbeatable Squirrel Girl“ ist eine Parodie-Serie, die aber trotzdem mehr oder weniger Canon ist, und Doreen zu einem Superstar in Geek-Kreisen gemacht hat. Wer den Marvel Kosmos also einmal von einer ganz anderen – humorvolleren- Seite erforschen will, dem sei zu dieser Serie geraten. Ihr werdet es mit Sicherheit nicht bereuen.

15. Unbelievable Gwenpool Vol 1 (2016-2018) (Christopher Hastings, Gurihiru u.a.)

Auch diese Serie habe ich nicht gelesen, aber ich weiß auch sicherer Quelle, dass sie gut ist. Und selbst wenn sie es nicht wäre, würde sie alleine wegen dem Ausgangspunkt auf diese Liste gehören, denn egal was ihr denkt, Gwenpool ist keine Variante von Deadpool und auch keine Deadpool-Version von Spider-Gwen, nein sie ist eine Mary Sue im ursprünglichen Sinne des Wortes im Marvel Universum. Richtig gelesen, Gwen Poole, eine Teemagerin von unserer Welt, wird in die Marvel Comics gesogen und landet im 616 Universum, wo sie von nun an überleben muss, was einerseits leicht ist, weil sie ein großer Nerd ist und alles über Marvel weiß, andererseits sehr schwer ist, weil sie keine Superkrärfte im eigentlichen Sinn besitzt und weiß was mit Normalos in Comics passiert, also muss sie zur Superheldin werden um relevant und am Leben zu bleiben und erlebt ein Abenteuer nach dem anderen. „Unbelievable Gwenpool“ ist der Meta-Comic unter dem Meta-Comics von Marvel, und alleine deswegen eine Empfehlung wert. Spätere Serien und Auftritte gab es natürlich auch, doch sie konnten nur selten den Zauber der Usprungsserie wieder einfangen (wie auch im Fall von so manchen anderen Einträgen auf dieser Liste eben). Vielleicht auch weil die Idee später einfach nicht mehr so frisch und neu war wie zuvor.

Und genau hierum ging es auf dieser Liste: Um frische neue Ideen, aus denen grandiose Serien erwachsen sind, die deswegen oft kopiert wurden, aber eben genau deswegen wohl auch nie verfilmt werden werden.

Allerdings gab es eine Serie, die nicht auf dieser Liste steht, die sehr wohl im MCU verfilmt wurde, obwohl sie all das war:  Marvel’s Alias (2001-2004) von Brian Michael Bendis und Michael Gaydos wurde von Netflix als Jessica Jones 2015 bis 2019 als Teil ihrer Defenders-Reihe adaptiert. „Alias“ war die Vorgänger –Serie von „The Pulse“ und eine Hard Boiled Detective der weiblichen Variante-Serie im Marvel Universum. Und trotzdem hat Melissa Rosenberg sie für Netflix adaptiert. Aber na ja, damals waren die Zeiten eben noch anders. Da war der Erfolgsdruck von egal was noch nicht so pervers hoch wie heute, also, nope, nur weil „Alias“ verfilmt wurde und die „WandaVision“-Serie gemacht wurde und sogar einen Spin-Off bekommen hat, heißt das leider nicht, dass wir Chancen darauf haben auch nur irgendwas von diesen Serien hier als der Vorlage entsprechenden Film oder als treue Disney+-Serie zu sehen. Leider. Wert wären sie es alle allemal.