#can u tell how much i despise this shell of a man

[eraofkalki]

omg speaking of solomon, have you seen his nightbringer! birthday call yet? i just saw a post about it and im sad over this stinky old man (affectionately)

https://www.tumblr.com/alexxncl/761980702198841344/nightbringer-birthday-call-spoilers-masterlist

^^ here’s the post for reference (now be sad with me)

my second birthday is over so i already got that call hehe (i posted abt diavolos call i think bc that was 😳)

and like YES "for you, i would go to great lengths" AAA i feel like that's alot for someone like solomon to admit but STILL it sounds restrained as if he's hiding just the extent of what lengths he'd go to you know? YOU KNOW??? anD AND when he says that most people don't have the best opinions about him but mc just made him surround himself with people who do and now he's just. stuck with people who he loves and who love him back? like uhhhhmm idkkkl

mc helps him be in touch with his humanity and let him experience the joy of real connections and I CANT AA

[bruhstories]

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

[bonnie-barstow-of-flag]

The Not So Lonesome Knight Ch#18

continued from here X

It’s not foreign to Bonnie. There’s something distinctly unnerving about the Colombian at her side, presently prodding her with his gun. The longer she stared, the greater a sensation like an ever widening void in sinking sand becomes. With every inch deeper the hole became, the worse the feeling gnawed at her. She ought to know him from somewhere! Somewhere recent too. With her extensive memory, she should be able to recollect his name or his voice, without having to try THIS hard. Where had she seen him before?! The question burns relentlessly in her mind.

A questioning glance is cast towards Michael. His own countenance contained a determined scowl. Between his ferocious leerings, his darkening azure orbs boasted a calculating edge. He doesn’t seem to be aware that one of the guys could possibly be an old or new acquaintance. What he was thinking, Bonnie could not hazard a guess to, nor does she want to. Although she does pray that he is formulating some kind of plan.

When Knight caught the brunette’s wondering eye, his entire appearance softened. A half wistful hint of a smile is cast deliberately towards her. He didn’t care what the goons thought or how they’d react when he extended his large hand reassuringly towards her. She is his first and foremost priority.

The act earned him a sharp jab between the ribs. The sweltering bruise was entirely worth it in his book. Michael knew how desperately she needed reassurance right now. His confident and swift stride is tapered down to match Bonnie’s more frightened ones. They were in this together. They always have been and with any luck, they always would be.

His proffered hand is accepted without hesitation. Bonnie’s own delicate porcelain fingers curl tightly around his own. She clings to his hand as dearly as she did life. This too earned her a poke in the side with the barrel of a gun. Unlike Michael who only grunted in pain, she stutter-stepped, nearly folding inwards with agony. If it hadn’t been for Michael’s quick thinking, she might have collapsed.

“Keep movin’. Or I’ll decide to empty the whole magazine.” Growled the Colombian nearest to Michael. The man’s teeth flashed with vehement interest in the promise he just made. The snide likes of which, was just barely discernable as they approached the looming, post-midnight darkness.

Alarm pulses palpably through Knight’s system. It’s not a threat he takes lightly given the circumstances surrounding this case. “Easy, Bon.” Michael gritted between clenched teeth. He refused to let her get shot over something so infuriatingly stupid. “Let’s just do as they say for now.” The former cop knew compliance was the best option. They were severely outnumbered, and the odds just seemed to keep stacking against them. “Maybe we’ll find out where they’ve taken Kent.” He whispers nearly inaudibly. Or so he wishfully anticipated. That is, if this and their present case were connected. Michael had every reason to suspect that they were until proven otherwise.

Bonnie winces, her stiff stance straightens in correspondence with his words. While she’d have been tempted to throw a punch with her free-hand, it only curls into a tightened ball at her side. She hates this! She’s not even afraid to show it. Michael is right. They had no choice but to follow the Colombian’s orders. It is hard, but she swallows down a thick wad of contempt rising in her throat.

Michael’s steps slow even further. This time, the stalling movement was deliberate. Unintentionally, he drops Bonnie’s hand for anxiety caused them to spread wide. The Colombians capitalize on the mistake, putting distance between them.

His azure eyes flash around the dimly lit parking-lot seeking out Kitt’s presence. To Michael’s dismay, the sleek black Trans-am had vanished. There’s no trace or inkling of Kitt’s luminous red scanner piercing through the blackness.

Pins and needles curl down every inch of the FLAG agents skin. Kitt didn’t just go offline or disappear without having a good reason. So where had he gone? Why wasn’t Kitt answering the cries for help over the comlink? He wasn’t prone to systems malfunctions. So why were they failing so spectacularly when he needed Kitt the most? They didn’t just break or die. Bonnie’s work was some of the best in the world. Better than the black-boxes of airplanes, he reminds himself again. What did all of this have to do with the robbery? Furthermore, what did all of this have to do with Kent Steven’s disappearance? Had he been in negotiations with the Colombians? Was this all a set up? Every corner Michael turned seemed to attract a hundred more questions like an endless magnetic train, but no answers. Not even a one. His jaw twitches with frustration as he grits his teeth. He didn’t mind walking into a trap, but doing so with Bonnie at his side made him feel sick to his stomach.

She shivers against the cold prodding of the night’s air against her bare legs. Perhaps, she would have been better off putting on her dirty clothes after her shower than Michael’s shirt. At least they allowed her to put her shoes on. Walking the glass and pebble, strewn parking-lot without them would have been a real nightmare.

Bonnie’s gaze instinctively follows Michael’s about the lot. At nearly the same moment, she realizes Kitt’s absence. Her own mind floods with a trillion similar questions.

Before any efforts could be made to put pieces of this ever warping puzzle together, they are ushered towards a large idling U-haul truck. Other than the faded logo on the side, the truck was fairly non-descript. That was good for the Colombians and very, very unfortunate for the FLAG agents. If one of them would by chance, make it to safety, the only description that could be given would marginally be unhelpful.

The rumble of the engine amplifies with every step propelled towards it.

“Where are ya taking us?” Michael challenged the head enforcer. He gifts his words in a tone that demanded answers. “Come on, man. Ya owe us that much.” He knows that by merely posing this question, he’s inviting the Colombian enforcer’s ire.  Pushing his luck one step further, he continues. “Sides what’s your boss Calderone have to do with any of this?”

The large enforcer’s hand meets Michael’s shoulder with crushing force. A gold toothy-grin is his malicious reward. “You’ll soon find out. Yes?” A disturbing air of glee-filled mirth lights up the man’s face.

It was enough pressure to cause the former undercover cop to wince in agony. His eyes squint closed for a minute as he tries to curtail the urge to say something he might regret.

Then shoving Michael towards the empty trailer, he adds, “and I owe you and your lady friend nada. I’m sure Senior Calderone and his mistress feel the same.”

“Get in.” The Colombian guard at Bonnie’s side roughly orders. His own free hand pushes her towards the downed ramp.

Skeptically, her eyes linger in the hollow shell of Uhaul. In the dim street-side light of the Motel’s parking-lot, she couldn’t discern anything the size of Kitt’s presence. He’s not here - either! Her heart sinks with a heavy thud in her chest.

Swallowing sharply, she peers back at Michael. She’s silently observing, bowing to Knight’s lead. Every once of common sense is telling her not to go anywhere with these brutes and yet, it would seem neither FLAG agent had much of a choice. Did they?

“Andele!” The Colombian at her side impatiently instructs. The gun is jabbed in her side again.

She’s stonewalling. He can see the fear coiled in her eyes in even the scant yellow glow cast over the truck. Michael couldn’t blame her. He held the same intense reservations. Yet, the guys with the guns are expert motivators.

Grimly, he nods. He knows she’ll understand the wordless command he offered.  When the guard at Bonnie’s side threatens to pick her up like a sack of potatoes, Michael rushes his last several paces to make it to her side. He certainly didn’t need or want her to be more manhandled because of her slow compliance. “Come on, Bons. Ya can sit next ta me.” He chummily remarks offering her once again the comfort of his hand.

She clambers in at Michael’s side. With another glance cast towards her guard, the spell of Deja Vu breaks like the oncoming dawn of a new day over her. She gasps loudly. The sound resonating in the hollow void surrounding them.

Michael tugged her closer to him as they both sat. Worry flashes across his face when she gasps. “What? What is it?” He questions with his alarm swelling exponentially. Whatever she discovered, he was sure that he was going to despise it.

[sheepish-uwu]

if u take requests, could you write a small bit abt lion reacting to docs death?

of course, and merry (early) christmas anon! i hope this is to your liking!

i gift to thee: 2.2k words of pure doc/lion angst! rated for MATURE audiences as it deals with dark themes :). enjoy! you can also read it on  a03!

Death was a demon that had once held an inescapable clutch on his soul - as it tends to do with many - for the elusive afterlife was intimidating to most. It was a trampling force that held no remorse for those caught in the aftereffects and was one of the only things Olivier could not run from other than God’s judgment. All he’d known how to do was run; run from responsibility. Run from his family’s advice. From the people he loved. From his son. From his lover. 

Olivier had sworn he’d gotten over the fear of death. The moment he’d been exiled from his own family and girlfriend, he’d considered himself better off as dead then. He had been a shell of a human being back then, constantly wishing for death’s release despite lacking the willpower to go through with any of the treacherous thoughts that had plagued his mind. He often sends thanks to the divine force that kept him from that horrendous fate. There must have been a reason for keeping him alive even when he was practically six-foot underground in his own alcoholic and drug-induced misery. 

Death had become a common factor in his work field to a point where he’d never bat an eye at the miscellaneous casualties if there was a purpose. It was the main cause of his and Gustave’s disagreements whenever they’d argue, their differentiating philosophies and viewpoints remaining on very shaky ground that he’d squint to say was common - so they ignored it the same way they ignored each other’s politics. In his defense though, life was just so fragile. Mortality has kicked him in the face multiple times. Like when he was barely an adult and hospitalized for his toxic obsessions, he’d had a lot of time to think about how close he had been to death and, more bitterly, how many had died to something he hadn’t. He’s held the hand of sickly dying patients and carried heavy corpses of civilians and colleagues to a point where any shock, fear, or emotion has dissipated. 

In Rainbow, the only deaths he’d witnessed were the ones of recruits. It was always upsetting to lose a member of their organization, yet their losses had never really phased Olivier - at least not in the way it affected people like Gilles who’d worked and trained with them more personally. They had yet to lose an actual operator though, whether it be through sheer luck was unknown to Olivier - yet they’d always managed to keep a clean streak even when missions went haywire. It was common to joke about dying on the job otherwise the lingering fear would eat them alive, and despite the teasing nature, there was always a truth to their words. It remained unspoken, yet drifted through the atmosphere whenever anyone laughed about their possible fate in an upcoming mission. Despite the mirth in their teasing voices, Olivier saw the flash of uncertainty and fear in their eyes - the feeling being reciprocated by everyone else in the room. 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? The lead up was unbearable, someone had to die eventually - right? It was all a matter of who and when. Everyone secretly expected the more reckless operators to be the ones to die first; after all, they were the ones who joked most about dying and were more prone to life-endangering endeavors. It’s what made the most sense, right? 

So why was it that their doctor - the one who preached the most about caution and safety - died first? Why hadn’t it been someone like James - who jumps headfirst into the fray without thinking? Or Elias - who practically gloats about willing to dive right in front of bullets to save lives? Often times, Olivier thinks he’s the butt of a joke the entire world is playing on him. Right when he gets complacent, comfortable, and happy with the way his life is heading, life throws a curveball that sends him tumbling back down the steep rocky mountain he’d been so desperately trying to climb. It’s what happened when he was a teenager and thrown out to the streets, it’s what happened when he almost lost his rank from his relapse into toxic behaviors, and it’s what’s happening now. 

And it hurts - so much more than all those experiences combined - to a point where Olivier wants to scream. Rip his hair out and peel off his own skin in a valiant attempt to shake off all these layers of pain and anguish. And this loss shouldn’t hurt him so much. He - he thought he’d gotten used to death’s company. And death wasn’t the final destination, there was life for Gustave after his earthly one - even if he wasn’t a devout believer in heaven or hell. For Olivier’s own sake, he held onto the notion that Gustave was with his heavenly father despite his lover’s religious doubts. The thought of Gustave being permanently gone tore at Olivier’s chest and applied an emotional pressure that made his sternum feel like exploding. 

Even still, despite knowing Gustave is in a better place, Olivier despises every second without the other French man’s company and guiltily relishes in this selfish desire. He misses Gustave and desperately searches for ways to keep his lover’s presence lingering, even if it wasn’t physical. He’d already gone through a phase of replacing all of his pillowcases with Gustave’s clothes, inhaling the poignant scent of his lover; outrageously expensive cologne, aftershave, and home. The day the scent wore off had been soul-crushing, and instead of being comforted by the pacifying smell of his deceased lover, he was met with his own depressing stench of sweat, tears, and desperation. 

The love he shared with Gustave was resurfacing into a loneliness that made every tender memory sour and turned every night alone with his right hand into a pathetic display of grief - any kind of pleasure received being reduced to a vigorous lust for what he couldn’t have anymore. The night his anger, grief, and desire merged into one amalgamation of self-loathing sent Olivier on a rampant self-destructive course, seeking out the artificial love of strangers for a taste of the past. 

Except it was superficial and each impetuous touch from the men couldn’t compare to the way Gustave’s careful nimble hands had once explored his body. Where Gustave was attentive, loving, and selfless in the way he reduced Olivier to a babbling mess, they were rough and selfish. Greedily taking from Olivier - though he’d be a hypocrite to be modest and say he hadn’t initially been doing the same thing - and the realization that this wasn’t Gustave, and he’d never find a suitable replacement for the love he’d once shared with the man, hit him like a freight train and sent him barreling down into a pit of despair. Any sound of pleasure he’d once emitted was obscured, all there was was pain - his cries being muffled underneath sweat-laced skin and the sound of the once euphoric activity. When the brute realized his sobs weren’t of pleasure and asked a concerned “shit, are you alright mate?”, Olivier merely nodded despite how much his soul screeched at him to say no and spill out the cesspool of his inner demons and unrelenting heartache. 

His church had been helpful and alleviated the unbearable torment of his wistful thoughts. The people he confided in supported him through his mourning, promising to keep him in their prayers. Their intercessions helped ease the nagging thoughts that he was completely alone in this particular struggle, and the distractions from his time volunteering kept his mind away from the distress in his empty home. Gustave never went to church with him despite how adamantly Olivier tried to convince him, and he never would’ve imagined he’d ever be grateful for it. Everything and everywhere reminded him of Gustave, but not his church. The only place Gustave refused to accompany Olivier to, and the only place that didn’t overwhelmingly remind him of a certain presence he was missing. 

He tried to find solace solely on his religion, and oh how he tried to find respite and healing through prayer and guidance - but old habits die hard and the sudden influx of emotional turmoil dug up everything he’d fought so hard to control. It felt like he was constantly on a malfunctioning autopilot mode - he couldn’t control his actions that progressively got more and more destructive, exacerbating his situation without a care in the world as he let his inner demons take over. Thought and inhibition were completely thrown out the window every time he took a swing of Gustave’s once treasured expensive wine. A sight that’d surely make him fume and retch in his grave, he’d think guiltily, forlorn gaze cast down at the half-empty glass bottle. 

He dreaded to imagine what Gustave would think of him if he saw him now, and remembers vividly the disappointment and hurt that’d paint his handsome face in the beginning of their relationship when Olivier would oftentimes turn to alcohol to deal with the stress. 

“We’re a team now, anything that bothers you bothers me. Tell me please, don’t push me away - I know I’m not the most emotionally available person in the world, but I care. I don’t want to see you like this again, please.” Gustave had exasperated, crouching down next to Olivier’s huddled figured hugging the toilet - spewing out his regret from the night before.

It took him a while to trust Gustave with his anxieties and problems, and though he had always been distant with his comfort compared to someone like Gilles - who’d embrace Olivier in a warm hug and soothing words - it worked. Gustave offered Olivier a shoulder to cry on and tentative back rubs, though the hesitant physical touches couldn’t compare to his words. They held advice - a logical merit that kept him grounded and resilient with a promise that these problems he faced had solutions so long as he put the effort to solve them. 

“But Gustave,” Olivier whispered, voice hoarse as he stared at the soul-shuddering marble tombstone that did very little to dignify who Gustave Kateb was and all of his humble accomplishments. It made Olivier distraught to see the altruistic man who worked so hard, every single day, reduced to a few words. “How do I get through this? Without you?” His voice was breaking on every syllable, body oscillating back and forth on his heels in a desperate attempt to contain himself. 

Olivier was met with nothing but the sound of wind rustling through the willow and oak trees and the soft shrill chirping from the thrushes and the songbirds, a hurtful reminder of how ultimately his loss was meaningless to everything but him. The world would carry on unforgivingly and leave Olivier behind to rot in his despair while trying to grudgingly trek through life, all while carrying the heavy solid weight of grief on his back. Nobody was going to wait on him to catch up, nobody truly cared or was impacted as much as Olivier was, and Olivier was sure that right when he’d returned from his leave in Northern France, the majority of Rainbow would have moved on.  Perhaps they’d already found a replacement for Gustave. Olivier grimaced, the thought embarking a shrewd feeling of dissatisfaction that boiled in his blood. 

“I can’t do this, I don’t want to go back without you there. It’s unbearable please, I-” his pleads cut off abruptly into a sob that tore through his chest and throat, leaving behind a tingling sensation that kept his breathing uneven. “I miss you. I-I can’t… I don’t know what to do. Please, help me.” The blonde French man crumpled on the cold ground, the maintained grass damp and chilled from the icy dew-heavy morning.

 “Help me,” Olivier reiterated, body slumped downwards as he fisted handfuls of the surrounding flora carelessly - a ravaging tick surging throughout him to destroy whatever he could get his hands on. “Gustave help me. Help me, help me,” Olivier repeated uncontrollably between breath-stealing wails, his repetition a painful reminder of the birds that surrounded him in the desolate graveyard - only able to repeat rather than speak. 

“I’m sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have spent so long fighting you, you’ve brought me so much joy. It was a waste, and I wish I could go back and spend all those hours we wasted arguing about something stupid and petty and just.. Kiss you instead.” Olivier heaved out once he finally caught his breath, eyes glazing over the dirt and grass that now contaminated his pale hands. 

A bubbling emotion surged throughout him, its force overwhelming and warm that induced a trembling in his fingertips. A phrase came to mind, the only way to explain this feeling that had been eating him alive throughout the past year. Three words contributed to this almost rapturous feeling that Olivier had stubbornly avoided saying unless he deemed the time acceptable. How idiotic he had been to hold himself back like that because now there was no more time left to share this revelation he’d been holding inside of him selfishly.

“I love you.” Olivier whispered, voice hushed as if admitting these three words was a crime - but the only thing that was crime-worthy was how long he’d kept it to himself. 

And so, he was met with nothing. Just as he had been earlier, and would be forevermore.

[thewaterisblackwithvenom]

My initial impression of Kieran was that he was an anxious, weak nerved kiss-up. I mean he doesn’t make any attempt to fight back when Arthur captures him, even if he stands there and does nothing. Dude’s got a gun. Makes zero attempt to go for it. My initial thoughts was he was too cowardly to even fight back, when in reality Arthur was running for him with a lasso. His hands are literally full. Who Arthur is doesn’t really matter; he doesn’t have a weapon drawn and is clearly trying to take him alive. Unless he’s a massively terrible shot, he could’ve easily shot Arthur. Clearly he’s more afraid of what Colm will due to him than just dying(which makes sense, especially with how he went out : )))) ), so it really would’ve been in his best interest to die trying to kill Arthur instead of being captured, most likely killed, and most likely tortured beforehand. Far as I can figure, reasons for just surrendering would’ve been

Fear (logical, but with his biggest fear being whatever Colm would do to him, doesn’t seem as likely, even if he was straight up panicking)

Pacifism (not saying he’s a pacifist, but he’s definitely not a fighter by nature, despite his will to live) 

Once he’s captured, he holds out for about a month in sh*t conditions. He breaks once they turn their violent attention to him, but even then he still tried to hold out. The only reason I can think of why he wouldn’t just talk is fear of what Colm would do to him if he made it out alive. If he was scared that the Van Der Lindes would kill him after he talked, he could’ve stayed quiet longer, I guess, though really who could hold out when you’re being threatened with castration lmao.

After the fact, I expect my initial impression to be right. It wasn’t. I mean, I was 100% right about him being a genuinely nice person, not exactly cut out for outlaw life, and not a rat or weaselly person. Things I were wrong about were his general demeanor. 

He’s a naturally positive and friendly person. Despite being constantly picked on and flat out threatened, he’ll even greet Sadie(who is probably most likely to kill him in the beginning, let’s be honest) with a level of confidence I didn’t expect. He doesn’t slink around her with his head down, but is 100% aware that she hates him, and I’ve never heard him try to change that. He’ll greet her, but goes out of his way to let her know that “I’m here and realize that you hate me so I’m giving you space”. Anyone else who calls him “O’Driscoll”, he’ll get upset and correct them. Sadie straight up tells him to die and he doesn’t say boo. I love that he is aware of her pain and doesn’t try to change her feelings about him just so he can sleep better at night. He plays the long game; respecting her boundaries, and not giving her any other reasons to hate him, hoping that someday she’ll maybe at least not despise him for just being connected to her enemies in the past. He could b*tch and moan about how he had nothing to do with Jake’s murder; he wasn’t there, he didn’t pull the trigger, and he didn’t want that to happen. He really is innocent. But he leaves that and her the f*ck alone, the only contact he initiates is just general politeness. She makes real threats, and he has ever reason to believe her, but he still has the balls to not cower around her. If anyone else in the gang makes any kind of “O’Driscoll” comment, he gets genuinely irritated and corrects them, even if it’s hopeless. Not just the women, who(save for Sadie and Mrs. Grimshaw) aren’t a threat. But he’ll get upset and snap back at Arthur and Javier that he’s not an O’Driscoll. I don’t believe for a second that Kieran thinks he could beat either of them in a fight. He’s not a fighter, and he’s also not stupid. He’s survived about half his life being beaten around. The reason he’s survived could be luck, but also him knowing how far he can press his luck with very dangerous people. I used to find it amusing in the beginning when he’d snap back, because like. Lmao, you really wanna get upset with Arthur? Seriously? Dude. Don’t go there.

He stands up for himself, and is confident enough in himself to be as bold as to say to Arthur’s face, that he’s not a bad person, and that’ll he’ll warm to him eventually. That also caught me off guard, because I was under the general assumption “god this kid is me. anxious af, doesn’t like people, just likes horses”. I projected far too much lmao, because despite him feeling more comfortable with horses, he’s pretty outgoing, in a confident way. If people are just indifferent to him, he has no problem going out of his way to greet people with confidence. When he’s being bullied, he’s ballsy enough to stand up for himself, and when people are genuinely nice to him, he’ll show signs of being flustered/anxious, likely due to the fact he probably has very little experience with kindness. Whatever kindness he experienced outside family was most likely fake and extremely conditional. He never made any comments about having relationships of any kind with anyone. His life has been about survival. He knows how to not press his luck with the wrong people, knows basic social manners(how to be friendly without being overbearing, how to give people space, and even when he helped Molly out of the stagecoach), but I feel like he has the least experience in healthy relationships. Relationships where someone is actually nice to him. That’s also why I’m 1,000% peeved that we didn’t really get to befriend him. Watching him come out of his shell more was so nice. Save for his massive guilt about Jack(which wasn’t even his fault anyway), he was finally starting to feel like he belonged there. Sh*t hurts man.

I think the thing that caught me most off guard was his level of confidence that you really get to see in his fishing side mission.

Arthur says that he’s(Arthur) not that great a fisherman, and Kieran, not missing a beat, comes back with “But I am! *laughs* I’ll teach you something.”, all of which happens seconds after Kieran is done straight up mocking Arthur’s teasing of him. If I hadn’t spent 5,000 years wandering around camp, and getting to see everyone’s personalities that you’d miss if you flew through story mode, that mission would’ve made my head spin. If your impression of Kieran is “soft scared horse boy”, there’s so much that happens in like, a minute that’d throw you off.

Arthur asks Kieran if he’s going fishing

Kieran, likely caught off guard by someone going out of their way to interact with him in a non-hostile way, says yes

Arthur, incapable of just being nice to him follows up with a threatening tone “... or running back to Colm O’Driscoll?”, bc f*ck this guy actually knowing I’m starting to warm up to him, I have to be a Big Tough Outlaw bc I am a Bad Man

Kieran, irritated and a bit nervous now, snaps back that of course he’s not 

Arthur responds by bumping his fist against Kieran’s shoulder/chest, gives an amused chuckle, and responds with “pffft, I’m just joking w/ u lol relax”  (I love this interaction because it really shows, at least to me, that Arthur is genuinely starting to like Kieran. instead of continuing along the lines of “watch yourself”, his tone and body language gestures that “I don’t mean it, I’m just messing with you”. Even if he’s still being an *ss, it’s not like his previous interactions. The playful physical contact, non-menacing laugh, and “I’m just kidding w/ u” comment are all friendly gestures. He wouldn’t do any of those if he actually didn’t like Kieran. Arthur’s not a touchy-feely “I’ll fake like I’m your friend so I can slit your throat later” kind of person)

Kieran’s nervousness instantly melts away and he responds with “wow. ur so funny. hah hah. rlly had me goin there. ur hilaaaaarious.” he’s 100% done and just rolls his eyes at this point.

Arthur just goes “shut up”, and I love the way he says it this time bc he’s more like. Offended/irritated that he’s being sassed instead of actually meaning “shut up or else”. He’s all “>:((( shut up brat” and it’s cute lmao. 

Not two seconds after Arthur tells Kieran to shut up, he absolutely doesn’t and invites him fishing. Like, a genuine “hey wanna go fishing?” and not like, a “desperate for your approval, please give me more opportunities to prove myself to you”.

Arthur says he’s not a great fisherman, and Kieran responds with “Yeah but I am!”, laughs, and says he can teach Arthur something.  I found this part super fascinating, because as someone with severe anxiety, my response would’ve been totally different. I’m confident in a few areas; I know what I’m good at, and what I’d be semi-competent at teaching people, but if someone-- especially someone higher on the social ladder than I am-- said that they weren’t good at something, that I was really good at, I always try and downplay things so as not to make the other person feel like they’re lesser than me. I like to think my art skills are decent, so if that kind of situation came up “I’m not a great artist”, my response would be more like “Heh neither am I, but I know some tricks that have made things a lot easier. I can show them to you!” Kieran straight up told Arthur Morgan that he’s a great fisherman, and could teach Arthur something. Former O’Driscoll, teaching Dutch’s right hand man something. That was a cocky move, even if it’s true. I love that he has the confidence to flat out say that without even backpedaling. Kid knows his worth and isn’t afraid to just blurt it out.

Arthur responds with a friendly “Sure”. Not like an “yeah alright fine”, but more like how he responds to people who considers friends. Come to think of it, other than certain instances where Kieran pushes his luck here, Arthur is friendlier/less hostile and grumpy with Kieran than he is with Sean lmao. Granted, Sean is uhhh, overbearing and obnoxious, but Arthur sees him as a younger sibling, not an ex-O’Driscoll. 

On their way to the beach, Kieran brings up past vs present. “who would’ve thought we’d be going fishing together when it wasn’t that long ago that I was tied up on the back of your horse begging for mercy?” He says it with such a light hearted tone like it wasn’t even a big deal. He could’ve died from dehydration/starvation/the cold, and he’s literally like “isn’t life funny?” Don’t know whether to be impressed that it didn’t leave him with serious trauma and resentment or said that maybe he doesn’t see it as that big a deal because he’s had worse. Either way, the way he says it is interesting to me.

Ofc Arthur has to remind him “how do you know I’m not dragging you away from camp to kill you?” bc again, can’t let this kid know I’m actually starting to like him. He Must Know that I am a Big Bad Threat.  “..because I saved your life”  “ya and every day I don’t kill you I’m saving yours” “you don’t mean that” “yes I do I am Serious so shut it” Kieran knows Arthur well enough that while the threat is still a touch unnerving, he has the guts to point out that he doesn’t mean it. he knows Arthur well at this point, and despite the slight possibility he might actually mean that, he choses to believe it’s just Arthur being... Arthur.

Throughout the trip, Kieran opens up about camp life and his past, and in general Arthur doesn’t have anything that nice to say. Arthur’s genuinely a nice person, but I wouldn’t call him “soft”, so that doesn't’ surprise me. Despite this, he’s not exactly mean to Kieran like he used to be. He’s not remotely sympathetic, but at the same time he wouldn’t be for really anyone else, either. Maybe the women bc women, but. However, towards the end, when Kieran talks about losing his family and being on his own since then, Arthur does comment along the lines of “well, look at it this way, you’ll never be alone again”. I could be misinterpreting it, but I think that’s Arthur’s way of saying “you’re one of us now”. Can’t really say anything nice to him or show sympathy, but “you’ll never be alone again” could’ve been his way of trying to comfort him in an offhand sort of way.

Not what Arthur meant, but I couldn’t help but laugh when Kieran was like “do you think Dutch trusts me now?” me and Arthur both laughed, sad thing is I laughed bc I’m like “yo Dutch don’t even trust Arthur lmaooo, shoot for something actually obtainable Kieran”

This is already five pages longer than I intended it to be lmao, but literally my entire point is that my impression of Kieran had been that he was a soft, nervy person with low self confidence. The way I see it, all the evidence proves that he’s a lot more than a lot of people give him credit for. 

He is a sweetheart by nature; I really don’t think there’s a mean bone in his body. He’ll stick up for himself and get irritated, but I can’t think of a single instance where he did or said anything mean-spirited. He’s helpful for the sake of being helpful, and is grateful for any actual kindness shown to him. He grows to genuinely care about the gang’s overall well being, and goes so far as to flat out state he’d give his life for Jack’s if he could, despite Jack being a brat to him in the beginning. But despite the fact that he’s a kind hearted individual, he will stand up for himself, and if the follower glitch dialog is accurate, he will engage in combat if he has to. A lot of his dialog is pretty snarky too, which I thought was interesting. I thought he’d be a lot more jumpy and nervous during a shootout, but again I was wrong.  To me all evidence points to his anxiety/nervousness all being circumstantial. It really only presents itself when his safety is actively being threatened, and in foreign situations(people going out of their way to be friendly to him; catches him off guard). So yeah, I think you could technically call him an anxious person and it be somewhat accurate, but he’s not anxious like people today are. His anxiety isn’t “across a broad range of circumstances”, as are anxiety disorders. I think it’s more accurate to say that Kieran is a pretty self confident, moderately outgoing person with a bright personality, despite the sh*t he’s been and still going through. And that’s what I love about him.

I started out feeling bad for him, with a touch of amusement, just for the fact that I really did pity him. He just seemed like such an unfortunate person. I felt really bad having to bring him in, because my general impression was that he’s really not meant for the outlaw life and was probably a nice person. Hated having to bring him in, but having read his bio before playing the game, I was at least relived that his position as part of the gang meant that me bringing him in wasn’t going to result in having to be the cause of his demise. Him being tied up for weeks made me feel really bad since I couldn’t do sh*t to help him out any, because Arthur didn’t give a damn. Poor thing didn’t even have shelter when it rained in 40℉ weather, and didn’t even have his coat on. Once he was free to move around, I was a bit surprised at how confident he was in greeting Arthur. Save for Tilly, in my game, Kieran greets Arthur more than anyone else in camp. Always bright and cheery. Seeing as how I spent most of my time in camp on the outskirts doing chores(see also: avoiding Dutch lmao), running into Kieran a lot was unavoidable, especially because Arthur’s morning routine is cooking breakfast by the campfire. Eeeevery morning, there’s Kieran. Literally can tell what hour it is by where Kieran is and what he’s doing, and vice versa. If it’s 2pm, I know exactly where Kieran is. With how much time I spent at camp, it didn’t take any time at all before I was very familiar with him. I never had any negative feelings or suspicion towards him, but other than our shared fondness for horses, I had no real reason to like him(pity isn’t exactly a reason to like someone after all). But I grew fond of him so quickly ever since dragging him down from Colter, especially after he saved Arthur. He was brave enough to stick up for himself, brave enough to risk his life saving Arthur, and brave enough to state that he’s “one of you now”. He does more than his fair share of chores every day, stays out of everyone’s way, and remains bright and friendly despite his sh*t circumstances. Oh and he loves horses. Those are the reasons I grew attached to him, and still am. I thought he was just 1889 me, but now I realize he’s a lot of what I wish I was. I love his confidence, despite the fact that he has no one backing him up. Ever. I have supportive people backing me, and yet if someone says sh*t to my face it’s going to make me seriously question my worth. Kieran Duffy fights back anxiety, plants his feet and defends himself. I’m f*cking proud of that boy.

Oh my GOD this is embarrassingly long lmao, but I f*cking love Kieran Duffy with all my heart and I feel like so many overlook how strong he actually is. He’s not an ~anxious soft boy~. He’s sweet, and kind, hard working and self reliant, open and honest, confident and snarky, and is just overall such a lovable, wonderful person. He’s not a weak little snitch, nor a skittish people-pleaser. He wants to be liked for who he is, and while he’s always trying to prove himself, he plays the long game and lets that happen naturally. He’s not a boot licker like Micah. I hate that a lot of the gang gave him such constant sh*t, and that despite the fact no one liked him, Micah was treated like “one of the gang”, when he said so much sh*t. Motherf*cker made comments about throwing out the women since they were “dead weight who you can’t even f*ck”, and older “less useful” members like Uncle and Swanson. Meanwhile Kieran works himself to death on a daily basis, but all the Big Men of camp pretty much hold his past over him constantly, despite the fact that he didn’t have a choice, and wasn’t even really part of the gang. It’s just really sh*tty and I hate it lmao.

I’m going to shut up now and pray to GOD this doesn’t make it into the tags or so help me I’ll tag it later lmao. 

[death---dealer]

Please some pre-cursed Adam headcons. I love your writing! U are amazing!!

i told myself that i didnt need them i tried but then you sent this request and i was like ‘ITS FATE.’

Not exceedingly fond of people laying their hands on him. I know, it sounds arrogant, but Prince Adam values his own space and will let people touch him when he feels like.

Has this irrational fear that any sort of attention on his body is going to leave him feeling sick with himself, much like he felt when his father gave him any sort of attention.

He can almost feels his father’s hand on his back, pushing him into the life of being heartless, and deep down, Prince Adam absolutely despises it. He sometimes wonders what life would be life if his father hadn’t been so loveless and if his mother was still alive. 

He’ll let you know if you’re okay to touch him. It’s very rare, and either he’ll vocalize and tell you or he’ll touch you first. (Grabbing your hand, kissing the back of your hand, letting his fingers graze on yours while dancing).

Contrary to this, he does let Lumiere, Cogsworth, some of the others in the castle into his personal space.

Probably one of the reasons why he preens himself constantly. With the lack of affection from his father, he finds it easy to give it to himself. Straightening his jacket, brushing hair back from his face, letting his finger linger near his face while he expresses himself, glancing in the mirror before crossing his arms in front of his chest as if he’s hugging himself. He is. He can’t look at himself sometimes when he realizes just how alone his life is. 

One of the (few) reasons why he insists on wearing such over the top clothes, and getting all decked out for the parties he holds is because he refuses to let anyone recognize what’s underneath. A pitiful, sad excuse for a human. At least, that’s what he feels like sometimes. If you put on a mask, no one can truly see what you’re feeling. Isn’t that right? He asks himself. That’s right. Your father taught you that valuable lesson.

He soaks in the aesthetic of the parties he holds, but doesn’t enjoy them as much as he may seem. Prince Adam hires people to be there, basically hiring friends to keep him company. He taxes people until they feel “obligated” to come to his party. And even then, it’s only the most beautiful of women. 

(The next few are NSFW) Picks and chooses from the women there when he feels like it. He rarely ever engages one on one with them because he’s afraid of cracking his facade. The rare occasions he does pick a woman to stay at the Castle for the night with him, he acts and lashes out.

If they assume they were chosen for sex, he tends to get offended, often asking, “Do you think I’m that easy? Asking you here had nothing to do with that, I’m disgusted!” and if that happens, more often than not, he’ll have them leave before the night has even really started.

If they don’t assume that, then it’s usually just him staring at them from across the table. An intense stare as if he searching for answers somewhere inside of their bodies. He appears like he’s going to ask a question here or there but stops himself from going any further He tilts his head, licking his bottom lip before requesting that Lumiere get a bedroom set for them. 

Prince Adam does this because It isn’t a matter of being loved anymore, it’s just a matter of not being alone for an entire evening and actually have some sort of human interaction even if it’s just staring. He doesn’t want to be loved, but it’s still nice to not be alone.

I’m not saying that he hasn’t had sex with any of the women who’ve stayed the night there. It probably happens here and there, but only when he’s absolutely starved for affection and needs it. Tends to be a picky battle. He refuses to let them touch him other than when deems okay, probably yells here or there if they do something he doesn’t like. Still insists on consent, regardless. If they don’t want it, he’s not that much of an asshole and he won’t force it. 

Seriously uses women most of the time. After personally seeing them once, he usually never sees them again and they’re never invited back. If he keeps his distance, no one can get to his true self.

Refuses to let them stay in his room afterwards. He can’t let someone sleep in the same bed as him. It would expose to much and it’s much too personal.

Prince Adam absolutely buries all of the feelings above. He tries to feel nothing but what his father said was okay to feel. It leaves him a hallow shell on occasions. A man of good looks with an ugly personality. 

After his mother died, he tried to express himself to his father about his grief, but wasn’t allowed, and even then, the staff in the castle were told not to let Prince Adam even acknowledge his feelings. They made him weak, were his fathers words.

Years upon years of burying his emotions leads to more and more violent outbreaks. Most of them are attacks on himself, and he’ll beat himself up for letting emotions creep to the surface. 

Created a facade of narcissism and arrogance. Because of this, Prince Adam convinces himself that that is all he is and it only elevates as he gets older. He starts lashing out in more extravagant ways. Parties, taxing the villagers, buying himself lavish things(Clothes, materials, objects for the Castle) to perhaps fill the void in his heart.

The only thing that seems to keep him grounded is being left alone with a book. Contrary to what he may tell others, he does enjoy Romances while they last. Perhaps because he never saw such a thing with his parents and dreamed of encountering it or because he wanted it just as much. 

But, he tells himself that it doesn’t exists. Such a magical thing must only be expressed with words in some silly story. He slams the book shut and sets it on the table, standing up and walking out of the library. He’s never finished a Romance other than Romeo and Juliet. He hates it. He hates the cliche of dying for someone you love. Where is the practicality in that? There is none, he snarls while making his way down the hall, There is none. It’s foolish. 

During his childhood, his father convinced him that his mother died because of Prince Adam and his childlike tendencies. If Prince Adam acted like an adult, and like a Prince, then his mother wouldn’t have gotten so weak and gotten so sick. 

This leaves him bitter and cold for most of his teenage years until he turns the bitterness and chill into arrogance and hatred, no longer inflicting it on himself but on others as well.

When he was a child, the one place he would go to get away from it all was the Garden. His father wasn’t one for tracking him down outside of the Castle walls so a young Prince Adam would curl up in the Garden and read a book there when he was younger.

Over time, he starts to secretly take care of the rose bush that’s opposite of where he reads. They were his mother’s roses after all, and seeing them dead and wilted make him feel guilty. And over even more time, he becomes exceedingly protective of it. The pure white petals, the sharp thrones, the green vine and leaves.

Prince Adam kept a journal up until the Curse was placed on the Castle. Wrote in it every night before he went to bed, and keeps them locked away so no one can read them. They’re just documents about his day, things he had done, things he had thought, and felt but didn’t express given the chance. One of the ways he can be so stoned face and heartless is because he spills all of himself on paper and truly feels nothing outside of writing.

Sometimes, during the Curse,  he re-reads what he wrote and can pinpoint pivotal moments where things turned bad. He constantly tells himself, “You’re not a Beast now, you were a Beast then.”

OH BOY I DIDN’T EXPECT THAT TO BE SO FEELY. Enjoy! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!

[starsinursa]

Questions for Grown-Ups

No one tagged me but I’m doing this anyways, sorry, not sorry

Tired of those surveys made by high school kids? “Have you ever kissed someone? Missed someone? Drank alcohol?”

Here are 35 questions for Grown Ups:

1. What bill do you hate paying the most?: Probably student loans. I just have so much student loan debt. I will seriously be paying on those loans for the next ten years. 2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner?: …does…does by myself count? Because I took myself out for a nice steak dinner and sipped on some delicious margaritas about five months ago. I just take a book with me and read while I eat.

3. What do you really want to be doing right now?: I’m pretty content at the moment. I’m off work, in pajamas, lounging on my bed with the puppers and the kitty. 

4. How many colleges did you attend?: Two. I attended the same university for all four years of my undergrad and I graduated with a Bachelor’s in Psychology, and then I took grad classes in Counseling at another college for a couple of semesters. Didn’t end up finishing the graduate program though because there was a super intensive field practicum required to complete the degree and I was already working full-time at my current job, and I really don’t want to quit my job so I can get the degree, turn around, and then have to find another job. 

5. Why did you choose the shirt you have on now?: …it’s a gray T-shirt with a cartoon cat and it says “R U Kitten Me Right Meow?!” 😂 I picked it because it made me laugh? 

6. Thoughts on gas prices?: Not terrible at the moment, currently $1.99/ gallon here. And I saved $0.30/ gallon the other day by using my Dillons gas card. WOOHOO, saving money on gas like an ADULT!

7. First thought when the alarm goes off in the morning?: “Fuckkk…. if I sleep for a while longer and show up late to work, how late is ‘too late’?”

8. Last thought you have before you go to bed?: “Goddamnit, Tera, you said you were going to bed at 9:30 tonight and now it’s 1 a.m. Are you happy now? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?”

9. Do you miss being a child?: Nah. Besides paying bills, I LOVE being an adult. Some people say high school is the best time of your life, some people say college is the best, but my 20′s have undoubtedly been the best so far. Living on my own, doing what I want to do, disposable income, no homework… yes, please.

10. What errand/chore do you despise the most?: Washing dishes. I don’t have a dishwasher at my house and I loathe washing dishes by hand. I hate it so, so much. I literally only use paper plates, styrofoam bowls, and plastic silverware. I just throw everything away when I’m done so I never have to wash dishes. Yes, I hate dishes that much.

11. Up early or sleep in?: Sleep in. I love sleeping in but just never get the chance… or if I do, I wake up early anyways!

12. Found love yet?: Not yet, I am a single pringle. Probably staying that way for a while, too, because all I do is work and then go home, I don’t go anywhere to meet new people. Occasionally I sign up for a dating app, but then I panic and immediately delete it.

13. Favorite lunch meat?: Turkey. Actually, that’s like the ONLY lunch meat I like. I don’t like ham, roast beef… but surprisingly, I do like bologna!

14. What do you get at the grocery store every time?: I’m always stocking up on frozen meals to take to work. I am a lazy cook… as in, I don’t cook. I CAN cook, but I don’t. Cooking for one person is just too much effort.

15. Beach or lake?: Beach. Although, considering I’m in Kansas, there are zero legit beaches around here. Unless you count lake beaches?

16. Is marriage outdated?: I mean, not to me? I’d still like to get married someday. I know it’s not necessary and just a social construct and blah blah, but I still really like the idea of it, at least for myself. Under my sarcastic shell, I am a big soppy romantic at heart. No judgment on anyone who doesn’t wanna go that route though, live and let live. 😊

17. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?: Misha Collins, obviously, because he would be hilarious and adorable. Or Keanu Reeves. Or I would really have loved to meet Leonard Nimoy before he passed away. He just seemed like an amazing man and I bet he had some really great stories and life perspectives to share.

18. Ever crashed your vehicle?: My vehicle has been crashed, yes, but it wasn’t me who crashed it, thank you very much. I’ve been hit by other drivers a couple of times. Not in my new car, thankfully.

19. Do you have any regrets?: I mean, nothing that I would go back and change. I have some small things I wonder about occasionally, but I’m pretty content with the course my life has taken. Even the rough patches have helped me learn. I’m happy where I am, so that’s all that matters.

20. Strangest place you’ve brushed your teeth?: In an airport bathroom. Hey, those layovers can be excruciating, and I’d hate to subject my fellow flyers to my airport breath.

21. Somewhere you’ve never been but want to go?: Ireland. It’s on the bucket list, but I’ve decided to see some other places first. Thailand, here I come!

22. At this point, would you want to start a new career?: No, and that’s part of why I didn’t finish getting my graduate degree. I really enjoy my work (most of the time) and working with adults with disabilities actually lets me feel like I’m making a difference every now and then, so I’m not looking to change careers.

23. How old are you?: I’m on the downward slope of 25 (26 in two months, how do I stop this whole ‘getting older’ thing?)

24. Do you have a go-to person?: Probably my aunt. She works in a similar career as me, so I can talk to her about work problems or get advice. We’re also a lot alike, including being single with no kids, rescuing animals, etc., so we have a lot in common and use each other as a support system.

25. Are you where you want to be in life?: Actually, yeah, I’m pretty content. I would still like to get a Master’s degree someday (if I could find a degree without a practicum so I wouldn’t have to quit my job) and I’d eventually like to buy a house instead of just renting, but otherwise, I’m good.

26. Growing up, what were your favorite cartoons?: Rugrats, Hey Arnold, The Wild Thornberrys, and The Fairly Oddparents

27. What do you think has changed about you since you were a teenager?: Oh my god, sooo much. I feel like I’ve come out of my shell a lot, and also become a lot more at peace with who I am. I don’t worry so much what people think of me anymore. I mean, I’m still super introverted and I’ve still got all my faults, but I beat myself up less about all of it, y’know?

28. Looking back at high school, were they the best years of your life?: Pffft. PFFFT. Yeah right. High school was…not bad, I had my little group of friends and went to a really small school where everyone was pretty chill, but I do not miss the teenage hormones and insecurities and constant worry about the future. 

29. Are there times you still feel like a kid?: Sometimes. Well, not really like a ‘kid’, but sometimes at work I’ll notice my age and feel weirdly young if I’m in a meeting with coworkers who are a lot older than me. And even if they aren’t too much older than me, almost all of my coworkers have kids, so it’s hard to find things in common sometimes. 

30. Did you have a pager?: No, I’m not that old, haha. But I did have one of those old-school flip phones that couldn’t even text.

31. Was there a hang-out spot when you were a kid?: Yeah, there were a few. Out at the old Union Pacific railroad bridge. Downtown. A couple of party houses.

32. Were you the type of kid you’d want your children to hang out with?: Depends on my age. 😂 I was mostly a decent kid who got good grades and didn’t get into much trouble, but I went through my crazy, rebellious phase too… drinking, smoking, truancy, sex… ah, yes, being 16 was an interesting time for me.

33. Was there a teacher or figure that stood out to you?: I had a really fantastic school counselor when I was going through that rebellious phase. I was forced to see her and wasn’t happy about it, but she turned out to be awesome. A lot of times, she didn’t even make me talk about school or home, she’d just let me ramble on about things I liked, the books I was reading, my favorite movies, etc. She’d just sit and bullshit with me and didn’t treat me like a kid or talk down to me. I first became interested in psychology and counseling because of her.

34. Do you tell stories that start with “when I was your age”?: Definitely. Kids these days! When I was their age, I was already washing dishes in a restaurant. I started working at age 14 and have never stopped. And my parents didn’t buy me a car, I had to save up and bought my first car by myself for $500. And my parents didn’t pay for my college either, I had to take out tons of student loans and work 30 hours/ week on top of a full course load so I could pay all my own bills (I’m a bitter old woman, can you tell? 😌).

35. Are you religious?: Umm…I used to be, not so much anymore. My step-dad is a pastor though, plus my sister is really religious and attends a private Christian college, so I’m still around it quite a bit. Needless to say, there’s a few things they don’t know about me, including the fact that I work part-time at an adult store.

Tagging: all my “grown-up” friends who would like to do this! Dooo it!

[ninja8tyu]

My brother came back home, and I remember why I always never can stay mad at him.

Yeah, he’s a fuckin’ narcissist, I will still bet everything I have that he is, but if that’s all he was, I wouldn’t be on the internet venting my feelings and instead be in jail.

Also apparently I now have a FBI agent watching my every post now. Yay. Big brother’s watching my hentai. Well, hopefully they only monitor what I post rather than what I see.

Also, yay. I get to make the FBI agent watching my porn jokes unironically. New material for jokes and stuff.

Anyway, my brother’s a cunt. He says shit that gets to me and I despise him for it. His constant beratement of me for never having changed despite the efforts only I have seen ticks me off, and so on.

And again, if anyone else were in my shoes, they’d go insane. Still will bet all I have on that.

`

But honestly, I’m not an idiot (do not bring that/those incident(s) up) enough to see it as everything he is. I hate him, but because we’re family, I know a lot about him.

Thus, I can never make an irreversible decision. I can say shit that can’t be reversed (hooray databases and archives, and lovely that a trollface in a suit flipping the bird enters my house in the form of a printed paper now with my name on it) but never make a truly stupid irreparable decision.

I’ve made an analogy like this before, but talking to him is like sifting through dirt, gravel, and sand for gold. The dirt, gravel, and sand being emotional torment, and the gold being genuinely useful pieces of information.

I’m ticked, of course, that I usually get grains of gold when I have to deal with him, with only dirt to fill up my filter, but sometimes I get large pieces of gold.

And as much as I can complain about being forced to sift through gold, I get some of those larger chunks of gold and remember why I bother.

This time around, he didn’t decide to insult me, berate me for never having changed. Or rather, maybe it’s because I’ve grown and actively decided to not permit any kind of that topic to be discussed when I don’t want to.

Or maybe the FBI visit woke him up. Who knows. Also hi if you’re still reading this far.

But yeah.

To put it in my own words, if he really were as bad as I always make him out to be, then I must ask the following questions:

“If he is that bad, then why doesn’t he do this?” in a general abstract sense.

But specifically, “If he truly wants to see me be miserable and a failure, why does he give me very good pieces of advice that I know I can use?”

A true piece of shit would do something else. As in, I would know the knowledge they provide to me is practically useless or detrimental.

Maybe I’m just autistic as all hell. Seriously, I need medicine that numbs my emotions. I heard anti-psychotics work. It was said as a joke, but I think I really need them. I’ll ask the psychiatrist about it.

And I’m reminded that he probably also knows about the bloody FBI visit. God, I don’t want to get help if the first thing I’m gonna hear is “WHAT UP MAN I HEARD YOU GOT VISITED BY THE FBI WHAT’D YOU DO” except in a more formal manner like “Hey, uh. I heard that you did something to get visited by the FBI. Could you... tell me about it?” 

God fuck it certainly was a wake-up call, but I wish it wouldn’t have lasting consequences. I swear if every doctor on the block that has access to my data, I don’t think I could live without wanting to hide in a shell.

`

But anyway.

Venting online is basically forfeiting all the power I have to others. If I need to release my anger, I need to channel it into something else.

Else, even if I do make a decent point...

“OH REALLY?

Ninja8Tyu says [thing I think is wise and smart], but isn’t this the same person that made a tumblr post about shooting up a school?

And don’t forget when he added protein powder into pasta, only to complain about it tasting bad.

Are we REALLY going to listen to Tyu, the person who faps to Japanese cartoons?

Vote No on listening to Ninja’s words TODAY.”

So, yeah. Never a fan of bringing shit up from the past. It’s literally attacking the other person rather than their arguments. People will still do it because they’re pieces of shit, but if I actually want to make a point, I should probably not make myself look like an idiot.

And Ninja8Tyu is kinda an original brand I made since childhood, so fuck if I’m abandoning him. I doubt anyone looked at the fucking keyboard, say the consecutive ‘T’, ‘Y’, and ‘U’ characters on the keyboard and thought “hey that looks like a name” and took it as their own.

So yeah it’s my brand. Not abandoning it despite how much I fucked it up.

I think I really need to get a therapist soon so I can vent in private. Surprisingly (not), therapists are a better audience than the internet because whatever I say out of anger isn’t likely to “FBI, OPEN UP!” my ass the two days after.

Speaking of therapists, apparently someone was receiving calls from the FBI asking when I’m going to get my weekly medical screening of my mental health, which, uh, I haven’t kept my word yet on going to see a therapist.

Because like, my original plan was to save gas and see a therapist at my college, but turns out that they don’t have that, only counselors, and going to a hospital would waste gas, and if I dared to waste my mother or father’s time to go see a therapist, well it’s gonna make me more depressed.

“Why still you haven’t gotten a driver’s license? This is getting annoying.”

I don’t wish to be a burden on anyone because I don’t want to consistently deal with the constant complaining caused by it.

So I’m choosing to shut up and just stay at home, venting online still except this time I’m a bit more cautious about how I go about it, as to mediate it as best as I can and also avoid the damage to my mental HP caused by the complaining of having to go to the therapists every single week.

Maybe if I found somewhere close by I could walk to that I can see a therapist, I might, but like, if I need to get in a car to get there, I likely won’t do it.

So yeah.

Things aren’t as bad as my fight or flight response pumped up with an overdose on anxiety claimed to be.

For now.

I’m not betting anything. I’ll just see what happens and hope that I’m wrong.

Nothing makes a pessimist feel happier than being proven wrong about his suspicions.

But yeah. Currently smooth sailing, storm warning was a false alarm, hopefully shit gets better.