#communication divergence

[delcat177]

Can confirm. This is how to set up to ask someone to get closer to them, at which point the questions asked should involve "do you mind me asking personal questions?" up front. If they do mind, don't ask them anything you wouldn't want to be asked.

This is basically the Goodall approach, you acclimate at a natural pace into the tribe. It's person-to-person, ape-to-ape.

But the natural approach is good too! Hanging out in a Discord server and observing how other people act...God, are we still using "lurking"? It's lurking. Then you get confident enough to say something, and that moves you from "lurker" stage with "Hey, this is my first post here, long time lurker, but I just wanted to say..." and then you'd say whatever and the ice would be broken. If we're not using that, we need to use that, it's *really* useful in getting past the anxiety of being seen for the first time. Probably look this particular shit up I'm fucking old GENERALLY HANGING OUT IS FINE s what I mean

I hope it goes well for you, friend-o <3 It's really hard to put yourself out there, and you're trying hard and asking questions. That's fucking tough, it's a genuine struggle to try to get from point A to point B in neurodivergence because of terminology differences *exactly* like this, and you're doing it anyway.

Thasscool <3

ok uh. how do you hypothetically say "i want to study you" in a friendly way

so far the best I've got is "can i join a discord derver that youre in so i can observe you in your natural habitat"

[astrologysaysno]

I have a random thought to pitch to you all the idea of Airplane SQH acting as SJ's lawyer in PIDW.

(Confession: I have not read SVSSS, so I have no real clue on how the trials happened, but just hear me out)

Shen Jiu stands on trial at Huan Hua Palace, charged with the grievous crime of the murder of Qiu Haitang's family, the death of Liu Qingge, and the mistreatment of Luo Binghe.

For the sake of propriety, SJ is assigned someone to defend him in the trial as his defence. The people clamour, Qiu Haitang and Liu Mingyan especially, arguing that he does not deserve someone to aid his defense, but Yue Qingyuan does not relent.

He assigns Shang Qinghua as the lead, a compromise to quell the rabble of protesters.

Shang Qinghua presents as clumsy, disorganised, and tongue tied. A barely qualified Peak Lord who looks as if an ant on his shoulder would give him enough of a scare to induce cardiac arrest. They believe Shen Jiu is guaranteed to be found guilty on all accounts when YQY picks him.

But Yue Qingyuan knows his shidi and knows just how capable he is. He has witnessed him weave through social dilemmas and negotiate with merchants, each time coming out on top with diplomats willing to do anything and traders selling even at a loss. He has made this sect richer and more influential than he has ever had in years.

So Yue Qingyuan is confident that Shang Qinghua can pull this off.

The day of the trial comes, and like the sound of the first horn at the front lines, it commences.

Shang Qinghua and the prosecutors spend hours on each and every charge, with Qinghua breaking down each argument and exposing the cracks to them.

He pulls out witnesses that Shen Jiu thought he would never see.

Former slaves of the Qiu family who attest to the horrific crimes of what Qiu Jianluo did, of the abuse Shen Jiu was put under, even forcing the sect leader himself to explain their history and air everything out.

He prods at Liu Mingyan's accusations, revealing the hearsay and conjecture of her story. His accusations of lecherous acts are dismantled as he brings the head of the Warm Red Pavillion and other workers to testify in favour of him.

With Luo Binghe, it is Shang Qinghua's most difficult test yet. How can one justify the hate that was perpetuated by Shen Jiu, the endless suffering caused by him to Luo Binghe?

He cannot, what he can do is create a sense of empathy towards Shen Jiu, building an argument of constant sequential trauma which had molded him to become this jaded, cynical individual caught in the cycle of abuse.

He appeals to the remains of Luo Binghe's humanity for mercy, and to the crowd of Luo Binghe's instability caused by Xin Mo. Weaving both together the case of Luo Binghe being too manic and unstable to properly pass judgement, that what Luo Binghe really wanted was justification for all the hurt brought down upon him.

Shen Jiu is still given punishment for his mistreatment of Luo Binghe, but the air feels as if it has shifted, changed into something he doesn't know what to do.

[stxrsys]

Me, putting down a piece of media: Damn that was good. I love this so much. Also why are you still here.

J.D. from Heathers the Musical: Do you have a slushie machine

[microknifeyuri]

Mephone4 they could never make me hate you

[m1nsur0]

[JTTW OC: 智平] Pale Dragons, Pale Mountains

[aftgficrec]

Anonymous asked: Is there any new Nicky and or/twinyard centred fics or any Kevin wymack bonding ones?

Or wymack parenting the other foxes?

Here’s part 2, Kevin bonding with Wymack under various circumstances! - S

NB: Nicky/twinyards centered fics here, parental Wymack here

also see…

Kevin & Wymack bonding here

changes by ParkeRose [Rated M, 15588 words, incomplete, last updated July 2024]

After Tetsuji Moriyama gives him up at the age of fourteen, Kevin Day goes to his father with one letter in his pocket and infinite hope in his heart.

dreams fall hard by cloudberrysoda [Rated T, 1979 words, complete, 2024]

Part 2 of human behavior (do as you please)

"You look like shit, kid." Kevin talks to his dad (and accidentally reveals too much). Set during vanilla baby. Read that first

tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse

These Green Eyes (Hers, Yours) by maydaykevin [Rated G, 1649 words, complete, 2024]

Kevin and David share a quiet moment.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

stamps by mostly_micro (mostly_maudlin) [Rated G, 100 words, complete, 2024]

The first arrives a week after Wymack gets home.

a lot's gonna change by neverlyxox [Rated T, 7347 words, complete, 2023]

Kevin started going to therapy at the beginning of the fall semester. It hadn’t been his idea, nor was he particularly happy about it. He could barely talk to the Foxes about his issues– and when he did, he definitely wasn’t sober– so how was he supposed to talk to a total stranger about it?

tw: alcohol abuse

boiling alive (at least it's what it feels like) by redinmyveins [Rated G, 1031 words, complete, 2023]

Part 2 of by the end of the day, we only have ourselves

Kevin Day is the best, but unfortunately his immunity system isn't and he ends up with the worst flu he ever had. By the way, that's also the first time David Wymack has to deal with the feeling of caring about someone of his kids sick. More specifically, his kid. His son. Or the first time David Wymack experiences one of the first experiences of being a parent: Having to take care of your kid when he's sick.

tw: negative self talk

one is chance, two is coincidence, and three's a pattern, (but let’s stop at two, okay?) by mistyrie [Rated M, 11396 words, complete, 2023]

It's the summer after winning championships when David Wymack gets a rude wake-up call. Apparently, an old acquaintance of his has passed and left behind a son in her wake — a son who may turn out to be David's... Another Kevin, so to say - and just as he and David are starting to figure it out together. – Because if it happened once, then why wouldn't it a second time?

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism

loveless is no way to live by orphan_account [Rated T, 5934 words, complete, 2021]

just kevin crying, really (+ wymack trying to be a good dad)

tw: anxiety, tw: emotional isolation, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: emotional abuse, tw: ptsd, tw: nervous breakdown

i’m so sorry, dad by grievingfortheliving [Not Rated, 1215 words, complete, 2021, locked]

The missing scene where Wymack learns he has a son

Tapes by Marmeladeskies [Rated G, 781 words, complete, 2019]

Wymack declutters and finds an old VHS tape.

Kevin’s call to Wymack at thanksgiving by @ninyard [tumblr, 2024]

it’s such a good reason as to why i could put him on the stand. like perfect kevin day trying to explain why he’d seen a dead body and called wymack before anything else? and how that phone call went as well? what if they played it?

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder

NB: this is on ao3 as ‘i'll call you back’ by minyard03, recced here

When team USA wins Olympic Gold for the first time… by @exy-shmexy [tumblr, 2023]

Art

like father, like son 🫶 by @deklo

wymack and lil kevin 🫶 by @deklo

Wymack and Kevin’s first Christmas by @jojen-hewitt

[monoconsciouscultureis]

monoconscious culture is not being able to tell if you're just fixating on a certain character or if you actually are said character

[hpnextgenthings]

If Snape was still alive, he and Albus Severus would have had weekly brooding sessions together in the dungeons

[falmerbrook]

Not to be too corny but the new year has got me thinking and I really appreciate this blog because this is pretty much the only site/community/fandom where I don't stress out over posting every single thing I post, afraid I'll be shit on for... something (my brain is very good at coming up with hypotheticals). I know, I know I'm way too sensitive and i shouldn't care about what others think and the internet isn't real so it doesn't matter etc. etc. but unfortunately I just don't know how to get my brain to work like that. I mean, I'm still too afraid of being cringe to draw/write/yap about everything I'd hypothetically like to, but I've been way more social and open to posting my thoughts on here than I've ever been before, and it's made me more confident online overall. So thank you all for being so welcoming and chill!

[the-fictive-haven]

When your system accidentally introjects another system's introject lmao. Well guess I'm here now

-Surge ⚡

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: The battle begins, and the past is revealed.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 6 - As When The Summer Days Were Nigh

“I’d known death since I was a child. It’s everywhere. In every form you can imagine. And a few your worst nightmare couldn’t muster. As if death was not the result of accidents and disease, death was its own disease. But it had never touched me. It had never placed its rotten finger on my heart. Yes, freedom has fangs. And it sunk them in me. ” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883 

Lorena's hooves pounded against the slope, carrying Kate down into the valley where a few wagons had come to a halt, isolated from the main caravan. Raiders swarmed around them, gunfire echoing in the night as chaos unfolded. With the sun sinking below the horizon, Kate strained to discern the attackers' numbers in the darkness. 

Six horsemen emerged from the west, joined by several more riding over the slope from the north. Kate's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. What are raiders doing this far south in the plains? She asked herself, trying to plan a course of action.

They used the cover of night to their advantage, weaving between trees and shrubs, it was difficult to get a clear shot of them. But she witnessed Charles and Arthur spring into action. Their guns blazed as they lit up the night with each round sending orange sparks into the darkness. As Lorena closed the distance, Kate spotted two wagons left behind: one belonging to John and Abigail, and the other a supply wagon driven by Lenny and Sean. She knew the raiders would target the supplies and likely attempt to steal their horses too.

This left the fighting to Arthur, Charles, and Javier. Who turned back at the sound of the commotion. Lenny and Sean leapt into the wagon for cover as they began shooting blind into the night, the horses crying out in fear. Kate couldn't see Abigail, and she prayed she was well hidden in the wagon with Jack. She made headway to his wagon first. 

She pulled her rifle from her saddle and called out to John, who was firing round after round from his revolver, doing no good against the fast riding raiders. 

“John!” she shouted, catching his attention, he looked down from his seat in the wagon. 

“Kate?” He said, taken back by the sight of her, “you need to find cover!” Concern laced his voice. 

She ignored his statement, holding the rifle up for him, “take this, it's a better shot. Aim for the shrubs, they're using them as cover.” She urged. 

John nodded and took the weapon without hesitation, quickly counting the rounds in the ammunition, “thanks, what will you use?” He asked, already getting in position to take aim. 

“Don’t worry about me,” she answered, determination in her voice, “protect your family.” 

Lorena brought her around to the back of the wagon and she peered inside, sure enough Abigail was clutching Jack to her breast, white knuckled and face scrunched in silent fear. As if she was hoping this was just a bad dream they would wake from. Jack, trying to be brave, trembled in his mother's arms. Without hesitation, Kate leaped into the wagon, placing a comforting hand on Abigail's shoulder. She startled at her touch, “easy Abigail, it's just me, you need to take this.” She held out her own revolver. Abigail opened her eyes and shook her head with a sob. Kate's heart throbbed at the sight of her. 

"I’m not letting go of him!" she cried, her voice quivering with emotion. "When is this going to end?" Her plea carried the weight of past traumas, threatening to overwhelm her.

Knowing they had no time to waste, Kate pressed the revolver into Abigail's trembling hand. She needed a means to defend herself if the worst was going to happen. Jack whimpered at the sounds of gunfire coming from John at the seat of the wagon. She gave him a reassuring look, “be brave for your momma okay? If anybody comes, you shout for me and I’ll come runnin’,” she added with a smile, placing a hand on his little head. He nodded in understanding. 

Lorena waited at the back of the wagon as Kate mounted her and took off towards the fray. She needed to come up with a plan, and fast. She gave her firearms to the Marston family. Which left her with only close range weapons. She reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a tomahawk. It had been a long time since she’s used an old weapon of war. 

With determination she nudged her mare in the belly and took off. The familiar leather grip of her tomahawk left her with a sense of bitter nostalgia. Memories of an old friend came flooding back, and old instincts she had long buried bubbled to the surface. 

In the distance, she spotted Arthur, locked in combat with a raider. His skill and ferocity were undeniable as he dispatched two foes with swift precision. Kate watched, her heart heavy with unspoken truths.

Arthur is wrestling with a giant, Charles' words sounded in her mind. She had faced her own giants, and kept them at bay like a hunter taming a wild beast. She never got the chance to tell him. She would release her giant tonight, and if they survived, she vowed to share her secrets with Arthur, laying bare the depths of her soul.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Under the cloak of night, time seemed to stretch endlessly, though mere minutes had passed. The raiders fell one by one, a testament to their careful strategy. It dawned on the others that shooting wildly was futile; they needed to close the gap.

For Kate, the chaos played to her strengths. While she lacked skill with a gun, in close combat, she was unparalleled. The sickening crunch of bone echoed as her tomahawk met the skull of a raider, sending him crashing to the ground. The scene before her, once familiar yet now unsettling, reminded her of the darkness she had left behind. Yet, there was no joy in the violence; only relief that she no longer found pleasure in such brutality.

With only a few foes left standing, Arthur's gaze found hers, his worry palpable. She reassured him with a nod, urging him to focus on the task at hand.

Scanning the chaotic scene, Kate spotted a lone raider sneaking up on John's wagon, his focus fixed on protecting his brother. With a swift movement, she sprang into action.

She hollered to get the man's attention, as well as Johns. It didn't matter who took him down, as long as he was stopped. Closing the distance, she gripped her weapon high, readying for the strike. The raider turned just as Kate swung, narrowly missing his head as a shot rang out. She was unsure if it was John’s or the bandits until pain shot through her side. The man barely squeezed by her horse and the wagon, and took off in the opposite direction. Ignoring the pain, Kate followed. 

Arthur joined the chase, and together they pursued the raider. Lorena surged forward, fueled by the thrill of the chase. Leaning down to her horse's ear, Kate whispered, "Feels like old times, huh, girl?" Lorena snorted in agreement. Despite her clingy and skittish nature. She was bred to be a war horse, and in her blood she fought just as savagely as her rider. 

She closed in and brought her mare tauntingly close to the last man. With a swift motion she collided the blade with the man's ankle, nearly cutting his own foot off, causing him to fall out of the saddle. He did not reach for his weapon, as he used his last round in an attempt to kill her, instead he lay on his back and put his hands out in mercy. 

Kate dismounted and trudged over to him. 

“I-I’m unarmed!” He pleaded, “please miss you wouldn’t kill an unarmed man!” 

She tossed the tomahawk to the ground and the man eased for a moment, until she pulled her hunting knife out of her belt. His eyes widened and he tried to stand, but his ankle was only holding on by a bit of flesh. 

Arthur finally caught up to them and dismounted, “don’t kill him yet Kate, we need to find out who they are. They could be O’Driscolls.” Kate ignored him, the pain in her side igniting into a blazing fire. The metallic tang of her own blood filled her senses, but she pushed past it with a fierce glare.

“Don’t look like an O'Driscoll to me,” she rasped. Fighting the urge to drive her knife into his belly. Echoes of an old mantra rang in her ears, “our job is to ensure our enemies fear is greater than their greed.”  

“I-I aint an O’Driscoll, we’re just a couple of horse thieves. That’s all,” the man pleaded, using his forearms to distance himself from her. 

The world felt dizzy, her memories of her past began mixing with the present. “That’s all?” She mocked, “you would take these people’s lives,” her voice hoarse, “just for a few horses?” Before he could answer she forcefully kicked him in the belly, hard enough to break a few ribs. The man rolled onto his stomach and spit up blood. 

In a flash, Kate mounted the man from behind, gripping a fistfull of his hair and forcefully pulling back towards her chest. She placed the knife at the edge of his throat, Arthur saw the fire in her eyes as she ended the man's life, sickeningly slow. 

As she drew the blade over his neck she muttered the words low in his ear, “what you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” 

As the raider choked on his own blood, Kate dropped his head in the dirt. The wound was not deep enough to kill him quickly. He would asphyxiate for the next several hours, a combination of bleeding out and choking to death. He would teeter on the brink of consciousness, not knowing if he is alive or dead. It was a slow sentence, a merciless one. It was pure torture.  

Arthur stood in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on Kate. He had witnessed his fair share of violence, and dealt with his own. But the intensity in her eyes was unfamiliar, unsettling. She seemed transformed, a wildness emanating from her like a primal force. 

“I didn’t know you could fight like that,” he said awkwardly, unsure if it was the right thing to say at the moment. He had seen a different side of her. And he had a feeling it was one that she was clearly trying to keep buried. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, and he was left grappling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Kate retrieved her tomahawk and mounted her horse, her movements strained with pain. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Morgan," she replied tersely, her usual sharpness replaced by a somber tone. "We need to keep moving," she added, urging her horse forward. She felt sick to her stomach, the pain mixed with rage and shame and fear. A whirlwind of emotions, it had been years since she killed somebody. She vowed to give that life up. And now, she was riding off with a bunch of outlaws. Leaving behind a bloody battlefield. Arthur watched her ride off, a knot of worry forming in his stomach.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

They rode past Dewberry Creek and down to Clemens Point. A hidden spot on the peninsula of the lake, only a few miles from Rhodes. It was a decent hiding spot. As the last of the caravan pulled in, the members who made it ahead of the chaos came rushing out to greet them. 

As Kate was the last to reach Clemens Point, the weight of the recent events hung heavy on her shoulders. She gazed out at the lake, its surface reflecting the dim light of the moonlit sky. A secluded spot on the beach offered a brief respite from the chaos that had engulfed them, and Kate welcomed the solitude.

Dismounting her horse, she felt the exhaustion settle into her bones like a heavy blanket. Her hands, streaked with dirt and blood, trembled slightly as she reached for the saddle buckles. With a heavy sigh, she removed the burden from Lorena's back, the weight of it suddenly feeling unbearable. As Lorena trotted off to the water's edge, letting out a contented sigh as the coolness soothed her weary joints, Kate couldn’t help but chuckle. Perhaps she had pushed her loyal mare a bit too hard today.

Grabbing a brush from her saddlebag, Kate set to work cleaning Lorena's coat, the rhythmic motion a comforting distraction from the chaos that had unfolded. In the distance, she could hear the other members of the gang recounting the night's events, their voices a mix of concern, exhaustion, and celebration.

As a pair of hooves approached, Kate knew without looking that it was Arthur. Dismounting, he joined her by the water's edge, letting Belle cool herself alongside Lorena. "Mind if I join ya?" he asked quietly, uncertainty lacing his voice. Kate nodded in response, and Arthur settled onto the sand beside her, kicking off his boots to let the water lap at his feet.

The air was thick with humidity, and the sounds of frogs and cicadas filling the night. It felt strange to be going back east, but somehow it didn’t bother her that her journey had been interrupted.

After a moment of silence, Kate broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "You wanna tell me what happened in Valentine?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Arthur sighed heavily, his gaze distant as he recounted the events of the day. "It started with the train job. The law showed up fast, too fast, and we barely made it out of there," he explained. "Cornwall's men nearly killed John the next morning. We made it out, but not without killing half the town.”

Kate shook her head in disbelief, her heart heavy with the weight of Arthur's words. Before she could respond, Arthur spoke again, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm so sorry, Kate. I never wanted to drag you into all this mess. Especially after what Micah did," he added with a bitter scoff. "I don’t know why you turned back." 

"I didn't do it just for you," Kate replied after a moment, her gaze meeting Arthur's with unwavering determination. "I did it for Abigail and her boy. From one mother to another." Arthur looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He caught the new information, but his heart fluttered at the idea that she turned back for him as well. 

“I’ve never seen a woman fight like that, it was,” he trailed and Kate was the one to interrupt this time. 

“I know, you don't have to say it. I’m not exactly proud of it,” she looked down in shame. 

Arthur offered a warm smile, “I was gonna say it was real brave.” 

She smiled sadly and shook her head, “still don’t make it right.”

“It was either us or them Kate, don’t beat yourself up about it,” Arthur reassured her. “You know, I’d understand if you still want to leave. But we could surely use some of that bravery around here.” 

Kate nodded and took a deep breath, steeling herself to share something important. “I’ll stay Arthur,” she began, “but, there’s some things I think you should know about me.” 

“We all come from different places, your past is your past,” he said sincerely, “If you don’t wanna share that I don’t want you to think ya have to.” Her heart warmed at the gesture, he was being considerate. After everything he saw he would still grant her the privacy of her past, but that wasn't her plan. 

“No, I want to tell you,” Kate paused, collecting her thoughts, “I think you’ll understand me better. And after what happened at the Downes ranch, I owe it to you.”

Arthur’s curiosity peaked, the conversation from a fortnight weighed heavy on his mind. And he wanted to know how her story tied into that. His mind already raced with assumptions, after seeing the way she fought he couldn't help but wonder if she was on the run from the law too. Or something worse. 

“Alright,” he settled back against the sand, giving her his full attention.  “I’m here to listen, Kate.” 

With a heavy sigh, she decided to start from the beginning. “I’ve known death since I was a child. It began with a railway accident in Boston that took my mother and little sister from me, leaving behind my father and older brother. At the time, my father owned a ranch where we raised dairy cattle. He didn’t take their deaths well, and fell into a depression. My brother and I couldn't keep up with the work alone, so we were forced to sell and move. Thankfully, a family friend took us in on their farm. It was there I met my husband, and for a while, we were sweet on one another.”

Kate recalled the memories, her heart flooding with grief, “we lived there a few years. And when my brother was old enough he joined a mining company, and it was another accident that took his life too. It sent my father over the deep end, and so he hung himself in the barn. Like he suddenly forgot he still had a living child.”

Arthur's face softened, understanding the weight of her losses. To him, it sounded like Kate had a proper family—one that truly loved and cared for each other. 

“I got married the next year, and finally things felt like they were turning for the better. My husband and I built a little ranch together. In a few years, we welcomed a baby girl into our home.” Her voice choked with emotion. “My life felt as perfect as it could get. I miss my family dearly, but I felt like I was carrying on their memory by starting my own.”

Arthur didn't want to think about where her story was going; it was painfully familiar to him. Kate shifted in the sand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up her side. She had forgotten about the bullet in her flesh. The area had gone numb, and the mixed feelings of grief and searing pain caused tears to stream down her cheeks.

“Lorena didn’t even make it through her first summer before disease took her from me, and as if death couldn't have enough, it took my husband from me too.” Her voice shook with pain. 

Arthur sighed, his heart full of sympathy as he observed Kate's emotional turmoil. "Oh, Kate," he said softly, reaching out to comfort her. However, his concern heightened as he noticed the sand around her stained red. "Kate, you're bleeding!" His voice rose with worry.

She nodded, wincing as she reached around her side. "I got shot," she answered, her voice trembling.

"Why didn’t you say anything?" Arthur was already getting up to inspect the wound. "Let me see."

Kate untucked her shirt and lifted it up for Arthur to examine. The bullet had entered just above her hip bone, lodged in the fatty area of her waist. "How bad is it?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

With gentle fingers, Arthur prodded at the wound. It was angry and swollen, and she winced at his touch. He concluded that the bullet was still inside, "the bullet’s still in there, but I think I can get it out. I don't think it hit anything important," he noted, assessing the severity of her injury.

Kate nodded and lifted her shirt further, revealing deep faded scars scattered across her back in the moonlight. “Jesus, Kate,” Arthur muttered softly in surprise. He paused before touching her again, afraid that she might break beneath him like an old clay pot. "What happened?" His voice was as soft as a whisper, fearful of what her answer might reveal.

Closing her eyes, Kate winced once again as Arthur’s hands returned to her wound. “I’ll tell ya once you get this thing out of me,” she replied.

Arthur nodded and, with a gentle hand, held the front of her waist while using his other hand to extract the bullet like it was a cyst, squeezing it out agonizingly slow. Instinctively, she grabbed onto his hand around her waist for support, finding solace in his warmth.

“There, got it,” Arthur said, a hint of pride in his voice as he handed Kate the small pebble that had caused her so much discomfort. “Think of it like a souvenir,” he joked.

“I’ve got plenty of souvenirs,” she mused, tossing the bullet into the lake. Arthur understood she was referring to the scars.

“Come back to my tent,” Arthur suggested, “I’ll stitch you up while you continue to catch me up on the last 10 years of your life.” His tone was playful, an attempt to lighten her mood. Arthur could already tell that her life had been incredibly hard, and seeing the marks on her back only confirmed his fears. Kate nodded, and Arthur helped her walk back to his tent.

To her surprise, the camp was put together rather quickly. Most of the members had settled down around the fire or had gone to bed. Arthur’s things were off to the side of the small clearing, offering him some privacy. His wagon had not been completely unloaded, but there was a cot, as well as a milk crate and an oil lamp. It was no hospital but it would have to do. He gently helped her sit down on his cot while he rummaged through his belongings for the right supplies to stitch her wound. Kate took the opportunity to continue her story. 

“Funny thing about this land,” she started, “our constitution says all men are created equal. But I’m a woman, a widow. They tell us our land is free, but what freedom do I have? I cannot own land, can’t take out a loan, can’t purchase anything in my own name. Choices come with freedom, but I had no choices at all.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look, he wasn't always proud of his sex. Most of the men in his life were not good role models, and he himself couldn't understand why some men treated women the way that they did. 

“I had an aunt in Southern California, I never met her but my father had talked about her growing up. So I wrote to her, in a handful of pages I explained everything. And begged her to let me live with her,” she inhaled sharply as Arthur cleaned her wound with alcohol. 

“I was a sorry sight,” she remarked, “I was so terrified to be on my own, and travel across the entire country just to avoid being sent to a nunnery or sold to another man as his bride. I had enough money to get me to Virginia, and after that I had to find my own way.”

In the dim light Arthur sat crouched on the ground beneath her while Kate sat in his cot. She looked down at him, working diligently and so tenderly to clean her wound as painless as possible. His gaze was fixed and intent while he worked, but Kate knew he was taking in every word she said. 

“So I joined a caravan that was heading west to Arizona. I figured they could at least get me close enough. Only problem was they were all German, and had very little knowledge of how to travel across the American west," Kate said with a bitter chuckle, “there were a few ranchers that came with us, and we tried to teach them what we could. Most of them couldn't even ride a horse!” She exclaimed. 

Arthur blew out a breath, “oh they were doomed from the start.” 

“It started with 72 of us, and we began to lose people as soon as we hit the Appalachian trail. Their carelessness became contagious; sickness and snakes, bad horses and poison berries. But of all the perils awaiting us, there was one word so feared it was barely spoken and barely whispered… the river.” 

Arthurs blood went cold. He couldn’t imagine the fear and terror as innocent families were ripped apart by dark waters. Punished simply for seeking a better life. The land was more merciless than any outlaw he knew. He noticed Kate relax under his touch, he worked gently as he ran the pad of his thumb over the flesh of her scars. Small bumps and lines, like tiny mountains in a cartography map. Like these scars mapped her history. Where she stood tall and brave in the face of danger. He admired her, being young and alone in this world was terrifying. He knew that feeling well. 

“The Kanawha river nearly took all of us that day. We came out the other side with barely 15 people,” Kate shook her head at the memory, “I thought we had seen the worst. But it was only the beginning, Arthur.” 

He looked up at the sound of his name, her voice trembling with fear. Their eyes locked and he saw a broken girl looking back at him. They shared a silent moment of understanding. He had heard stories from Appalachia, it was something a child could not muster even in their worst nightmares. Reaching for her arm, he squeezed her gently, “Kate,” he said softly, like he was crooning a baby, “you don’t have to tell me if the memories hurt.” 

Warmth spread over her cheeks as silent tears fell, her heart was in her throat. It had been so long since she talked to someone about it. For the first time in years she felt like Arthur was the only person truly seeing her. 

“We had crossed into Lakota hunting territory,” she continued, “there was a feud over the land between the tribe and the Virginia government. But it didn’t matter for us, the Indians came anyway. They killed all the men, leaving only myself and two other girls. I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen. I was no use with a gun and I had no idea where to go. So they took me.” 

“And I knew I was going to die.” 

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Phantom Grin

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

Chapter One: Moonlight Promise

It'd been nearly ten months since the night Jason dug himself out of his own grave. Bruce sat by Jason's bedside, reading to him. Most days, Bruce read to him. When some of Jason's broken bones healed up, Bruce would hold his hand. He tried not to think too hard about the night it happened. The thought of Jason's broken body reaching out to him from the grave made his stomach turn. "I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way," Bruce read in a soft voice. Bruce listened carefully to the rhythm of the machines, making sure Jason's vitals were in order. Jason's heart rate often slowed depending on what Bruce read to him. He could tell that Jason loved poetry, or at least he thought Jason did.

Bruce squeezed Jason's hand gently. "Jason, I have to go earlier today," Bruce whispered, "But we'll finish The Highwayman when I come back. And I'll tell you about Clark's visit... Maybe when I come back, you can—." Bruce's phone rang, and he sighed. "Jason, I promise I'll make things up to you." He stood up and rested a gentle hand on Jason's forehead.

His phone continued to ring, and Jason opened his eyes. Bruce froze. "Jason?" he asked. Jason kept his eyes open for a few breaths before closing them once more. Bruce sat back down and brushed a knuckle against Jason's cheek. "Attaboy," Bruce whispered gently.

Bruce's phone rang again. "I'm not going anywhere... I'm just gonna answer this," Bruce whispered.

He answered the phone, and Dick immediately started apologizing. "I know you asked me not to call—."

"He opened his eyes... Just for a second," Bruce interrupted.

Dick didn't reply immediately. Instead, he made a soft noise. "Do you-. Did it seem like—?" Dick couldn't find the words.

Bruce sat with the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He squeezed Jason's hand. "He's never done it before. He opened his eyes and—. It was like he was trying to wake up," Bruce whispered, "Do you want to speak to him?"

Dick took a deep breath. "Put me on speaker," Dick whispered.

"Jason, I'm putting Dick on speaker," Bruce whispered. He let go of Jason's hand and set the phone on Jason's bedside.

"Good morning, Jason," Dick whispered, "I'm gonna come and see you pretty soon. I might get you something new to listen to. I know your birthday's coming up in August." Jason lay there, his eyes closed, and Bruce moved Jason's bangs out of his face. He didn't want to cut Jason's hair, not yet. In the months since Jason's resurrection, his height and hair were the only things that changed. It was the only way he could cope with the thought of Jason's condition.

Bruce stayed for an hour more and left in time for sundown. He'd be back later that night, but not as Bruce Wayne. Bruce always came at night in the middle of his patrol to make sure Jason didn't suddenly awaken in the night. He even hid motion sensors around Jason's hospital bed so that he'd know the comings and goings of the nurses. Leaving Jason was always hard. In the days following the incident where Jason first opened his eyes, Bruce started to see more and more movement in Jason. Sometimes Jason would open his eyes, other times, Jason would involuntarily grin when Bruce would touch his face. By the end of the year, Jason started responding to simple commands.

One afternoon, Bruce sat in the manor, eating dinner and talking to Dick. "He's gonna wake up any day now," Bruce whispered.

"And what are you gonna do about Tim?" Dick asked.

"Tim can have whatever he wants. He can be whatever he wants... Once Jason's able to come home," Bruce paused for a moment, "Jason'll need my full attention." He picked over his dinner.

Dick looked at him and furrowed his brows. "Gotham needs Batman—."

"And Jason needs me," Bruce raised his voice, "Had I been Bruce more often with Jason, maybe he wouldn't have died in the first place. I need to be there for him. I need to take care of—."

"And I'm not saying you're wrong, but from what I'm hearing in your voice, it sounds like you're calling it quits," Dick interrupted.

"Not permanently. I'm just prioritizing Jason for once," Bruce whispered, "Don't you think he deserves to be put first for once?"

Dick froze. He knew Bruce loved Jason, but he never thought that Bruce would ever set aside his priorities for anything or anyone. "I'm not judging you. I know you love Jason. I love Jason too... I just-. You don't have to do this alone. We're a family, and we're all willing to help in whatever way we can," Dick reassured him, "Maybe it's time you stop thinking you can do all this alone. Don't you think?"

"I can't let him down this time. I can't," Bruce whispered as he took a sip of water. "I should go check on him again soon."

"How many hours would you say you spend at the hospital?" Dick asked.

"Well, since he's gone from comatose to being in a vegetative state... Three hours in the daytime, on and off for two hours at night," Bruce replied. Dick tapped his fingertips on the table. "Yes, I'm thinking about going right now. You should think about coming with me."

Dick nodded. "I'll come along tomorrow before I leave," Dick replied, "No use in asking if you're staying for dessert, huh?" Bruce got up and took his plate to the kitchen.

Bruce's phone beeped, and he checked his phone. "I gotta go to the hospital—."

"What's wrong?" Dick asked.

"He's awake," Bruce replied as he rushed past Dick to the car. Dick followed closely behind.

"Is he okay?" Dick asked. Bruce handed Dick his phone, and when Dick saw what was going on, he pushed his hair back in distress. "Okay, I'm sorry for saying you were crazy for installing the motion sensor cameras."

[newfrontiers-memory-log]

[your-funky-squip-companion]

alright, just out of curiosity now cuz of the majority of people in the last poll (although it was close) didn't like reader insert fics

please reblog for a higher data set!

[starryybrained]

Dawn

Whumptober Day 15: Childhood trauma/Moment of clarity

Content: Major character death, gore, child whump, fear of death, demon whump, angelic whumpers, eye whump

As the sun rises, Art watches his parents die in front of him.

He watches as the angelic soldiers ram their spears directly into his parent’s hearts, pin them against the floor by their chests and tear their weapons from their flesh, ripping away layers of gore with it. The blood blends into the shadows, dark, shiny and wet, obscene, washed away by the waves among the shoreline.

He did everything he could to stop them, begging them to spare his mothers, barreling into one of them and desperately trying to fight them off, hissing and spitting. With a swift swing of their spear, they strike him to the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs and turning the vision in one eye red.

Art cries out. A stinging feeling in his eye socket twists, arcing into his skull, both violent and dull. Tears and blood stain his cheeks, slick and damp.

With only one eye, he watches his mother’s blood stain the water and shore, drifting across the coast into the sea in a streaky mess; then his own, dripping onto the ground and creating little ruby-red spatters.

He gasps, desperately holding back a scream, covering his mouth because his breath is too quick and too heavy, even though the crash of the waves across the shore is louder than he is. Eventually, he lets it out, guttural and broken. Flecks of sea spray scatter across his face, and he stares at the sight, unable to tear his eyes away. Shaking, he edges his body behind a large rock, gripping the rough surface with his claws, breathing quick and shallow, trying to hide within the cracks between the rocks.

They’re dead.

They’re really dead.

It finally dawns on him fully, the idea that these lifeless bodies are real and will never breathe or walk or hold him again, the concept of their death turning sharp and real.

He’ll never hear them speak again.

He’ll never feel their touch.

Their faces will fade from his mind and then he’ll have nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The only thing he has left of them now is the oversized coat lined with fur his mother wore — the one she gifted before she died, warning him to hide — and a pendant with one of his ancestor’s teeth around his neck. He twists it around his finger, fighting back tears, his vision going fuzzy from breathing so fast and shallowly.

Footsteps approach him.

No. No no no. Please.

They are clawed talons, and he knows that seeing them means he will die.

Art isn’t ready to die.

He doesn’t remember how it goes — the memory is too jumbled, too frantic, but he runs, he knows that much. He runs and he runs and he runs because if he’s not fast enough, they’ll hunt him down and make him pay for it.

A chance — that’s what had happened. They gave him a chance to live and he took it.

And now he runs, runs, runs, the wind and salt stinging his eyes, stumbling across the rocks and pebbles, fleeing where he used to call home — not home anymore, it never will be — flapping his wings as he runs, not daring to turn back, leaving it all behind.

He has no idea where he should go — only away, away from this place that’s been marred by the sky-dwellers, away from all that it good and right.

He has no idea where he will go now.

[varganardi]

Varganardi x Divergent AU

I'm a dystopian YA genre nerd, so this was so fun to make!

Not that happy with how Nacho looks in this but let's go 💪🏼

 UPD: Please check this out, and sorry again!