#i miss my old one so much and i hate i kinda abandoned it

[machneherald]

yeah im gonna make a new animanga sideblog

[lovebugism]

istg that “just because you’re beautiful and a good kisser does not mean i forgive you.” “you think i’m beautiful?” is sooooo eddie coded.

i'm picturing a sorta enemies to lovers with eddie pulling yet another prank on reader (we all know this boy has the emotional maturity of a five year old when it comes to making a move on the girl he likes) but he really does hurt her feelings this time so he tries to make it up to her and they end up kissing.

from what you've written before i think you could put a great spin on this sorta scenario, if you feel like it <3

hope you like it! :D — you're eddie munson's biggest enemy. and, yes, you're also his soulmate. (enemies to lovers, secret relationship, 0.9k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

You storm into the bustling lunch room, having traded your pretty corseted blouse for a piece of oversized Corroded Coffin merch — definitely not by choice. “Do you have a death wish?” you ask when you reach the Hellfire table at the very back of the cafeteria, zeroed in on its leader at the head of it.

Eddie turns slowly, blinking up at you with innocent button eyes. His chews through the hamburger wadded in his cheek. “Potentially,” he answers, muffled before he swallows it down.

You huff, too easily frustrated. It isn’t any wonder why he likes to mess with you so much. “Where are my clothes?” 

“The ones you left on my bedroom floor last night or…?”

“No, you idiot— The clothes you stole from the girl’s locker room. Which makes you a total perv, by the way.”

“Oh, that sexy little number?” he croons, turning in his seat to face you more. “It’s in my locker, actually.”

“Well, get it out,” you say with gritted teeth.

He thinks for a moment, pursing his lips to the side. “Hm… I don’t think I will.”

Your jaw tightens. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s a little revealing, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah, that’s kinda the point, Munson.”

He smacks his lips against his teeth, then scrunches the bridge of his nose. He wags a sarcastic, ringed finger at you. “See— Those aren’t the values a nice girl like you should have—”

“God, you’re infuriating,” you groan and stomp off again.

Eddie smiles to himself while he watches you go, cheek tilted lazily to his shoulder. The only thing he likes better than seeing you come (in more ways than one) is watching you leave.

He sighs a deep, contented sigh and turns back to the rest of the table. They’re all wide-eyed and silent, still musing on the sudden interaction with the disbelief that it had happened at all.

Eddie only grins, wider this time. “Ah… She’s obsessed with me.”

—————

By the end of the school day, your blouse hasn’t yet been returned to you. You’re still stuck in the stupid shirt Eddie had left for you — all black, too big, and obviously his. You know it belongs to him because you’ve worn it thousands of times while sleeping over at his place. It smells just like him, like weed and cologne and boy.

You’re heading towards the exits when a hand pulls you into an abandoned classroom around the corner — pale, ringed, and lanky. As if you needed any further confirmation it was Eddie Munson. 

You stumble in, and he locks it behind you.

“Don’t you think you’ve bothered me enough today?” you squint.

“Oh, so you don’t want your shirt back?” he teases, waving the thing in his free hand. You reach for it, and he snatches it back, smirking softly down at you. “Uh-uh. What’s the magic word, sweetheart.”

“Give me my shirt back,” you answer in a monotone.

“Not even close, but I’ll give you a kiss for it.”

You sigh like it’s a chore for you and lean in to kiss his cheek. Your lips just barely graze his stubbly jaw. Eddie shrugs. “You missed, but I’m feeling nice today, so—”

You snatch it from him when he hands it to you. “You can’t keep doing this, Eds. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“Well, one, we do hate each other. Obviously,” he scoffs and leans back on one of the desks. It shifts under his weight, and he stumbles. He decides to sit on it completely while you laugh. “And two, this was, like, a genius prank on my end. I made my arch nemesis walk around in my shirt all day— you’re not giving me enough credit for this, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, except I got called the freak’s girlfriend all day.”

“By who?”

“Who do you think?”

He ponders for a moment. “…Jason?”

You nod, all slow because it’s obvious. The only one who hates Eddie more than you do is Jason Carver. You wonder if he’s secretly in love with the town freak, too.

“Well, it’s about time he knows who you belong to,” the boy says with a laugh. “He’s only been trying to get with you for two years.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t belong to anyone— I’m not a toy.”

“Well, yeah— only when you wanna be,” Eddie teases, reaching out for you. His ringed fingers curl around your wrist to pull you closer. You sigh in annoyance but walk between his thighs anyway.

“You’re so annoying.”

Eddie grins, pink and boyish. “But you like me anyway. So who’s the real loser?”

“I thought we hated each other,” you quip with narrowed eyes.

“I was kidding— Just kiss me.”

You giggle quietly and lean in to peck his lips. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint, mouth soft like flower petals. You get lost in him too easily. One peck becomes two — then three — then a longer, languid, and more drawn-out thing.

You feel Eddie smile against you, knowing he’s won now that you’re melting for him. You pull away with a smack when you regain your senses.

“Just because you’re pretty and a good kisser, doesn’t mean I forgive you, by the way. You know that, right?”

“Mhmm,” he hums mindlessly, already leaning forward to kiss you again.

You pull softly back. “And that I’m totally getting you back for this?”

“Yep.” He pecks your lips once, with a lot more self-restraint than you’d had. “So… When are you coming over to get the clothes you left at my place last night?”

[evolnoomym]

Washing Machine Heart 🩶 Pt.1

Mom’s Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: Your Mom is not nice to you, her only Daughter, always picking on you whenever she can. To get back at her you decide to seduce and fuck her Highschool Best-friend Joel Miller. Oh she also has a crush on him so that’s a bonus.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, implied abuse, childhood trauma, alcohol, smut, reader has no name only nicknames, size difference, age gap, readers age is mentioned and Joel is more than double sooo, mommy issues, strained relationships, petty shit, cream pie, tittys, choking kind of, teasing, Joel is tiny bit Pervy, of course Daddy kink, unprotected p in v,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: I was mad so this is what I cooked up lol

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. This is my first time writing smut sooooo be nice please. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🖤

Song’s I listened to while writing:

I Hate My Mom by GRLwood

Class of 2013 by Mitski

I hope ur miserable until ur dead by Nessa Barrett

Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

Backstabber by Kesha

Jerk by Oliver Tree

You know exactly when the relationship between you and your mother started deteriorating- The day she decided to choose your loser Stepdad, the one she only dated for 4 years, over her own 8 year old daughter. From then on you took a backseat in her life yet she still expected you to take care of her all needs. You hate her for what she did and you miss her like a little kid. You had to drag her home when she drank too much, you can’t even remember how often that happened. Always having to jump in between that asshole and her fighting cuz even though she practically emotionally abandoned you, you still wanted to protect her from harm's way. She forced you to grow up so quickly, it’s her fault you never got a real childhood.

For years you accepted that this is normal. The screaming, the violence and the degrading words became a part of growing up. You were a kid but not clueless, someone who loves you wouldn’t have done all of this. And yet all of them tried so hard to make you shut up and believe it’s what you deserved.

Luckily what happened did not entirely break you. No, you grew into someone who fought for herself since no one ever did that.

Of course you hoped she might realize her mistakes, apologize and change but nothings new with her. She’s great at pretending to be a better person to the outside world, than she is in reality, behind closed doors the mask unveils an ugly woman. A narcissistic self absorbed monster that took all your joy away.

It’s pathetic considering how much she always talks about getting abused by her own father but instead of breaking the cycle she doubled down on it. Going as far as using that as an excuse for what she did to her own child.

She only kinda stopped the abuse once you no longer were a small child. Now that you could fight back she did not corner you anymore.

But just because she couldn’t hit you anymore doesn’t mean the picking on you stopped, no, it was her mission to rid you of the last remaining confidence and self love.

In each screaming match she tried so hard to gaslight you into believing you were crazy for feeling offended by her disgusting behavior.

One time you asked why she hit you as a little kid and the answer left you completely blown away. She expressed that you cried so much, and did it to provoke her. What else could she have possibly done other than raise her hand?

Or another time she refused to acknowledge that she hit you at all but a second later told you that perhaps if she would’ve done worse you would’ve turned out better.

At some point you stopped calling her Mom and only went with her name. You knew that it must hurt but did she really deserve that title after everything she did?

Now at 21 years old the relationship is just as rocky, not much has changed.

Your mom has basically zero friends, she’s a bitch of course no one would want to be too close, well except for Joel…..Joel Miller that somehow was her friend.

Perhaps only since they have known each other since High School, he might have felt some kind of obligation towards her due to that. She told you once that Joel was the boy every girl had a crush on with his whole guitar playing thing they all swooned over him.

Even now all those years later Joel was a beautiful specimen, tall, broad shoulders, huge hands, strong arms you’d like to be enveloped by, tanned freckled skin, a cute butt, gorgeous brown curls with slightly gray streaks showing his age, big brown eyes, a prominent nose and soft pillow like lips.

You understand why your Mom had a crush on him, any woman would bend over for him if he’d say so. She thought it was not too noticeable but unlike Joel you caught it immediately.

She made you the reason for her life being so shitty but now after years of torment you saw a chance at really giving her a reason to hate you. Maybe something is wrong with you for liking the idea of breaking her heart so much but you honestly couldn’t care less. The one you felt sorry for most was probably Joel; he would be the pawn in your deranged game without knowing.

As it turns out though Joel is not as innocent as expected, the more you tried to get closer the more you realized he might be easier to seduce than originally anticipated.

You started with small things like hugging him a bit longer than normally so he could feel you perky full tits squished against his chest. Touching his arms and squeezing them but not too much as if to draw attention to it. And from his reactions, he did not seem to mind.

You were not worried about your mother, she never was the most alert to begin with.

When Joel came over for a barbecue you used the time alone with him in the garden while your mother was in the kitchen preparing god knows what to impress him.

Joel and you had some interesting conversations.

“Soooo you work in contracting, right?” You asked him sweetly. Joel chuckled “Yeah sweetheart, I do. But ya know tha’ already, so why ask?” You played it off as much as you could “Just making sure you didn't decide to switch career paths in the time I haven’t seen you…” you look up at him through your lashes, cheekily biting your lip. Joel of course fell into the trap, his eyes going down to your plush lips in mere seconds. Got ya you dirty old men.

You stepped closer until you two were only a couple inches apart. His chest almost touched yours. In this position you really had to Crane your neck up to keep eye contact consistent.

“What are ya doing Baby,huh?” Joel tilted his head slightly down towards your face. You just giggled at him “Nothin Joel, just…” with that you put your hands on his wide chest ruining them down over his enticing slightly protruding belly. “I know you stare at my ass alllllll the time. I also know you like it when I walk close by you and graze you with my tits. My little skimpy outfits turn you on as well don’t they,huh Joel?” You smirk at him.

You can see how he clenches his jaw…ohhh yes you got him figured out.

He hisses low and menacing at you “You are a little slut ain’t ya, baby. Groping a man over double your age. Teasin me with those sugar tits and that tight lil ass….”

You can see his pupils dilate till his eyes look close to being completely blacked out. You muse “Yeah I’m a whore but you like that don’t you?” With that you cup his hard cock over his shorts he decided to wear today.

He gasps and immediately grips your wrist to yank those devilish hands away from his throbbing length. Especially when he hears your mother’s voice calling out from inside the house.

He backs off and tries to catch his breath as well as calm his raging hard on down to an unnoticeable minimum. Before he leaves to figure out what she called for he turns to you and lifts an accusing finger towards you.

“We ain’t done baby, ya gonna make it up to me for teasin and leavin me all high and dry, mkay?” He tilts his head almost to intimidate you but to no avail you’re just a massive brat “Hmmm sure Joeliii but i think your underwear is anything but dry.” You giggle and continue “Probably full of pre cum am I right,huh?”

Joel can’t believe what he’s gotten himself into and just shakes his head while turning to the house.

Somehow he made it through the barbecue without your mother noticing any tension between Joel and you. Stupid of her but good for you.

In the weeks after that afternoon you and him kept secretly meeting up. Most of the time at his house or he’d pick you up with his truck to drive you somewhere where he could have you without any distractions, of course when your mom wasn’t home. She might be stupid but even to her it would be weird why you suddenly start taking trips with Joel and she should not be suspicious.

Also during the talks with Joel that happened when taking a break between fucking it was once again made clear that he for whatever reason had not an ounce of knowledge about your mom’s crush.

The plan for how the reveal should go was set in motion. Your mom was driving out to one of those weird grocery stores that sold the health powders she drowned herself in, in hopes of making her more pretty from the inside out but to no avail the rot can’t be reversed.

You knew how long that would take her, it gave you enough time to fuck Joel in her favorite spot on the couch. Yeah petty and perhaps childish but you don’t care make her remember how you defiled her lovely couch with the man she was in love with.

Joel showed up 10 minutes after she drove off. You barely got the door closed behind him before he pounced on you. It’s been a few weeks since you fucked him last, you wanted him to be desperate for it so he’ll might be more focused on pounding you then notice that your mother is returning.

He immediately slotted his lips over yours, his hands grabbing at your hips with urgency.

You spin with him attached to your lips so you can guide him where you want him, on the couch. His breathing is already elevated and by the significantly evident bulge he’s massively turned on. Good, the less rational thinking the better.

While you push him towards the couch his lips slip down your jaw and land on your throat kissing and sucking all over. Between those kisses he huffs “Babyyy - I’ve - missed - ya so - much…” you just hum as an answer and when the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch he’s forced to unlatch from you.

He falls back, his head hitting the soft pillows so he’s only slightly elevated. You wink at him “yeah I bet you have and most of all He has missed me huh? Looks almost painful, did you not touch yourself in meantime?”

He sounds a bit whiny in his response “No Baby haven’t touched myself, saved it all for ya greedy little pussy.” Even when you think to have the upper hand he reminds you how different it actually is. “Come on baby, why don’t ya take of that lil skirt an’ take seat on my lap.” While grabbing at his crotch.

Your mouth is watering but there’s no time today to get your mouth on him like you usually love to. At his dirty words you can feel some wetness gush from your pulsing cunt, coating the inside of your thighs. As requested you slip your flowy skirt down your legs.

Joel let's out a gasp „No panties baby? Ya naughty little slut.“ he chuckles and you retort „Don’t need them if I’m with you, so why make it harder than it needs to be?“ at that Joel can only nod.

„Come here Sweet Moon Love.“ he demands.

You get on your hands and knees between his spread legs that lay on the couch. Slowly crawling towards him teasing him with your tits that are almost spilling out of your skimpy tank top.

When you finally sit down on his jeans-covered cock he lets out a sound of relief. Your knees on either side of his hips and his hands immediately find home on your hips and ass, kneading and caressing the skin there.

„Fuck Moon ya turn me on so much take of that goddamn top and show me those sweet sugar tits.“

So you do, slipping it over your head and throwing it somewhere behind you. He’s not surprised by the lack of a bra. He knows you hate wearing them and if he’s honest he loves that a lot, easier access and all.

Joel’s hands go from your hips up to the tits he loves so much. Carefully touching them, his warm hands and the wonderful feeling making it unable not to moan. Swiping his calloused fingers over your nipples, twisting them with determination causing you to keen.

You start arching your back towards his groping hands. His administrations cause the pull in your lower stomach to Continuously get stronger. You are convinced his jeans are covered in your juices and without realizing you’ve started to rub your bare pussy over his bulge with vigor.

„Joel enough I need you inside me, now!“ You don’t even wait for a response, lifting your hips and loosening his belt and unbuttoning the buttons of his jeans. With his help you drag his pants down but only so much that you are able to pull his throbbing cock out of the confines that are his blue boxers and you can see a huge dark spot where pre cum leaked, making you look at Joel chuckling „You really want it huh? Daddy” with a sweet lilt that makes his dick Twitch in your hands.

He just groans “Baby Moon if ya don’t sit down on my cock right now I’ll do it myself and I won’t give ya time to adjust.” He threatens but it really only turns you on more.

You peer up at the clock and see that you only have about 15 minutes left.

You take your original position and when his warm length slips through your moist folds his pre cum mixing with your own juices to create an addicting squelching sound.

At this point the dark hair nestling at the base of his cock and his happy trail are completely soaked.

“Gosh, Sweetheart she’s gushing all over me, put it in. She wants my cock don’t keep her waitin” you love when he talks in this way about your cunt, makes you wetter if that’s even possible.

You lift up a bit again and take hold of his length with one hand, the other on his chest to stabilize yourself. Dragging his leaking head through your glossy folds before lining him up with your gushing opening. You take one deep inhale cuz you know it’ll be a stretch even with how often you've done this.

Before sinking down on him you look at him there’s guilt somewhere deep in your conscience but you shake your head, you ain’t backing out now.

You slowly start to sink down when Joel decides it’s not quick enough so he grips your hips and in one swift fast motion sheets his huge dick inside your tight cunt.

“Ahhh..-ah J-Joel what the fuck” you hiss slapping his chest hard for being so impatient.

He huffs “Sorry Baby but Daddy has waited long enough for Her, just shush.” He actually has the audacity to shush you.

You get used to the feeling of being so filled to the brim and slide back & forth for a moment.

Then you put your feet down flat on the couch and grip the headrest behind him before starting to fuck him in earnest. Up and down at first slowly but steadily you get quicker and harder. Joel can’t even speak unless you count his obnoxiously loud moaning and growling.

“Yeah how you like that old man, hmm Daddy you're all quiet this pussy shut you up good, huh?” You wonder and out of nowhere one of Joel’s big hands grips your throat making you slow your movements to a minimum. He pulls your face toward his and grunts “Baby Moon ya need to be put in your place, ya bratty ass is treading on some mighty thin ice.”

He gives you one hard peck and then shoves your face in his neck. You don’t complain, you love when he’s so rough with you and his musky masculine smell is your favorite.

Joel pulls his legs up and plants his feet on the couch just like you did and then he starts to relentlessly push up into you at an alarming speed so hard that if it weren’t for the arm pinning you to his chest you’d fall off.

“Jo-Joel….Joel it’s so good ah…don’t stop” you babble in his ear and opposite to his harsh pounding he soothes “Shhh Baby I know, I know it’s so much for ya and Her. But listen to how much she’s enjoying it.”

And he’s right besides the obscene “plap, plap, plap” of skin hitting skin you can hear the wet squelching from the place you're both connected. “I’m close baby, where?” He asks while slipping a hand between your bodies to touch your neglected clit and immediately your whiny moans get even louder “I-in…inside Daddy. Pleaseee cum inside me.”

You beg and he loves that “Hmm yeah, ya wanna be filled up Baby?” He questions “God yes Daddy fill me up, please pleasee” you want nothing more than to feel him spill inside of you.

Seems that when Joel told you he was kinda deaf in his right ear it wasn’t a lie or maybe the plan of making him so desperate to fuck you that he won’t hear the door unlocking worked out.

But you can hear the slight clicking and the closing of the door. Unlike what you expect she does not start screaming, no, she’s eerily quiet. Perhaps it’s due to not having realized who exactly you're screwing as if there’s no tomorrow or simple shock.

Joel under you seems to have reached his end and without any preamble he starts shooting his warm cum deep inside your tight hole. The warm sensation combined with his unrelenting rubbing your clit pushes you over the finish line too. With that you pull up from his neck and drag him up as well, crossing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

You know she is right there at the threshold, you don’t care and to rub it in even more you say “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” And as if he knows his role Joel answers “I love you too little Moon.”

And that might have been the final straw, she speaks up and it flips out into incoherent screaming. Joel is immediately startled; he lightly pushes you off, quickly tugging himself back into his jeans and getting up to explain. You however get up slowly and put your top and skirt back on.

With the lack of panties you can feel his spend leaking out of you and you’re sure there’s very evident stains on Joel’s jeans that your mother must see.

The back and forth they must be having doesn’t even register to you. The blissful buzzing from the orgasm and the satisfaction of having succeeded in hurting her are making you all dozzy.

But then she comes charging at you screaming in your face “You’re smiling, you think this is funny??? I knew you were a bitch who only ruins everything, you are a worthless piece of shit a absolute waste of space” she’s so hysterical but you don’t care, it’s good she’s showing her true colors for Joel to see.

She continues “You are disgraceful and shameful for the entire family. I want you out of the house now. You are dead to me.” She probably thinks those words could hurt but it’s nothing compared to all the horrible things she did in the past. You just smirk at her nodding which infuriates her more than any comeback could.

With that you slip past her, Joel looks completely stunned by what just unfolded before his eyes. You don’t acknowledge him much, quickly skipping up the stairs,entering your room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it with the most important items. Then shuffling out of your room locking it behind you. You heave the suitcase down the stairs, no sign of Joel all you can hear is her crying in the living room, it amuses you, not an ounce of sympathy left for her. You don’t bother saying bye just open the front door and out you are.

The surprise is waiting in front of the house, Joel, he didn’t leave but instead waited for you.

He looks at you “Did it mean anything to you at all, or was it just a big joke?” He doesn’t look hurt, just confused. You close the distance between him and you “I wish it wouldn’t but it’s not possible to not feel anything, look at you Joel you’re a so beautiful so caring of course I fell for you.” He nods and takes your suitcase out of your hand. “Wh..what are you doing ?” You question “I’m taking ya home Moon, think I’d let you run around these streets? Get in the car” he urges.

And you do, when he drives off you don’t look back once.

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @studioghibelli @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @clawdee @penvisions 🩶

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

[steddielations]

Wayne pov, implied neglect, abandonment

Wayne gets a call from Hawkins Elementary that Eddie hasn’t been to school in two days.

They couldn’t get ahold of Al on the phone, as usual. Wayne hopes his suspicions are wrong, but he already knows what he’s going to find when he shows up to the shabby old house on Philadelphia street with a McDonald’s bag in hand.

His knock on the door goes unanswered, but he sees small fingers and big round eyes peeking through the side window blinds. 

“Hey, Eddie, it’s your Uncle Wayne. Open the door, it’s alright.”

Eddie shuffles away from the window, but there’s still no answer.

“You hungry? I brought those nugget things you like, that’s all. Some kinda toy in here too.”

After a moment, the door slowly opens a sliver. One big button eye peeks through the crack and a pale skinny arm reaches out.

Wayne hands over the food. “Gonna let me come inside?” 

Eddie’s arm snakes back in with the bag like a claw machine. But after another moment, the door swings open fully, revealing Eddie in rumpled clothes at least a couple days worn. The shadows under his eyes tell Wayne all he needs to know.

“Dad’s gone to the store,” Eddie smiles nervously, he didn’t inherit Al’s ability to lie behind it. “He said he’ll be right back.”

Wayne just nods as he comes inside. One look around confirms what he already knew. By the window, there’s a blanket and a scatter of candy wrappers and empty soda cans where Eddie’s been sleeping. Waiting and watching the driveway for Al.

This wouldn’t be the first time Al’s gone off and left Eddie to fend for himself. Wayne’s been helping out as much as he can since Eddie’s poor mama passed. He doesn’t know much about raising kids but he knows Al’s one dumb selfish bastard to be leaving Eddie alone for days since the ripe age of 8.

Wayne ignores the twist in his chest and the stab of anger he feels and doesn’t mention it. He follows Eddie to the coffee table in front of the couch where Eddie digs into the McDonald’s sack.

“School called and said you weren’t there. You feelin’ bad?” He reaches out, gently pushing back Eddie’s wild curls to feel his forehead. He’s surprised Eddie lets him, too busy scarfing down chicken nuggets. “No fever.” Wayne notes, but Eddie’s hair needs a good wash.

Eddie’s narrow shoulders slump a bit. He doesn’t look at Wayne, tearing open his chocolate milk with his teeth. 

“I just— didn’t wanna go today. I hate school. Miss Taylor always gives me a bad behavior grade even when I act the best in class. She calls me Junior. Munson Junior.”

“Thought you liked being called Junior. Like your dad.”

Eddie shrugs, those shadows darkening on him. “Everyone forgets I have my own name too. Sometimes I just wanna be Eddie.”

Already, he’s feeling the weight of his last name. Al taught him to hotwire the second he turned 10 and how to pick locks even before that. Munson tradition, Al wouldn’t listen when Wayne told him that’s bullshit. What seem like cool tricks to Eddie now already make him guilty in everyone’s eyes. Wayne’s been feeling it all his life, thanks to his old man and now Eddie’s got Al to thank for making it even worse.

“That’s good, you just keep reminding them,” Wayne says, being careful with his next words. “When you finish that, why don’t you go pack a bag, alright? You can come stay with me until your dad gets back.”

Eddie goes stiff, chewing slower now. “It— it hasn’t been long. He said he’d be right back.” His eyes drift over to Wayne, checking to see if he buys it. Wayne doesn’t. So Eddie huffs, “I wanna stay here. I hate the trailer park.”

That’s just him repeating Al’s shit talk, so Wayne doesn’t take offense. “Your friend’s been askin’ about you. That little girl next door.”

Eddie perks up at that, “Ronnie?” Wayne nods and thinks that does the trick for a second, but Eddie stubbornly sulks again. “I can’t go. Dad told me to stay here until he gets back.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be here alone. You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not scared to stay by myself,” Eddie insists, sitting up straighter, looking even younger trying to look older. “Dad said I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m 10 now and I can look after myself. He taught me to use the stove and everything. I always do fine on my own.”

“So he’s been leaving a lot, then? You know you can call me to come pick you up,” Wayne tries not to frame it like it’s Eddie’s fault, pointing to where his phone number is pinned on the fridge with a magnet.

Eddie’s lip wobbles despite how he tries to square his jaw.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“You ain’t—”

“You said to call if I need you and I don’t need you, Wayne! I'm fine!”

Eddie shoves the food away, his eyes wide and shiny when he cuts them back to Wayne. Not glaring with anger, just hurt. 

“It’s not fine,” Wayne tells him, gentle as the first time he held him, just a tiny thing all bundled up in Elizabeth’s knitting. “Your dad’s got his head in his ass again. You can’t stay here on your own, no matter what he said. I ain’t leaving you by yourself.”

“I’m not going.” Eddie’s more pleading now than arguing. “I have to stay here so Dad can find me when he gets back. Don’t you get that? If I’m not here, I won’t see him.”

That’s what it’s really about, Eddie thinking it’s his responsibility to keep up with his Dad. Instead of the other way around.

“If he comes looking for you, he’ll know where to find you.” But Al won’t. It’s never Eddie that he comes back for. Wayne doesn’t tell Eddie that, but now Eddie’s starting to learn that on his own. Al proved it to him time and time again.

“Why do you even care?” Eddie’s angry now. But it’s not really Wayne that he’s mad at. They both know that.

“It’s alright, son, c’mon now.” Wayne reaches for him but Eddie quickly pushes his hand away.

“You aren’t my dad.” Tears escape with the words, and seeing his pain hurts Wayne more than anything he could say, or do. He pushes Wayne again. “So why do you care? Why are you here?”

He doesn’t need an answer, he just needs to let it out.

So Wayne sits there while Eddie shoves his chest and cries harder, “You aren’t my dad. Why do you care?” Wayne curls his hands around Eddie’s smaller ones as the question turns to, “Why aren’t you?” Then it’s a broken little sob of, “Why aren’t you my dad?”

Wayne catches Eddie when he finally tires himself out, and instead of pushing Wayne away, Eddie’s clinging to him. Eddie’s holding on like Wayne’s all he’s got left in the world. Wayne hugs Eddie to his chest, wishing there was more he could do.

Al put a hole in Eddie and he’s digging it deeper everyday, one that Wayne won’t ever quite fit into. He tries to fill it the best he can, giving Eddie the only bedroom in the trailer, going to the talent show because Al never makes good on his promises to be there for Eddie, not letting Eddie stay in this damn house alone waiting for someone who’s never gonna show up. Maybe Wayne’s not that someone, but he can still be here for Eddie. And he’s gonna be.

“C’mon, let’s get you outta here.”

[axelakim]

Broken Pieces

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader (20 ish something)

Genre: angst and angst 

Warning: age gap, not proofread, use of Y/N

Summary: You got a crush on Logan while he is still overshadowed by Jean's death. The love journey between you two gets on a bumpy path.

Xavier school has been busy because of the new entrances. Young, hopeless mutant which Professor X found out through Cerebro. The teachers feel a bit overwhelmed by them. It is kinda hard to control the youngsters to face their fear. Fear of losing control. Ororo, Raven, Hank, Logan, and Professor put so much effort changing the youngsters mindset. Saturday night feels a bit lay low now, the students are partying in Xavier's backyard, including you. The only class five mutant student in the school. telekinesis, energy manipulation, and some form of neuroelectronic interfacing power

all united in the body of an 18 year old girl. 4 years ago Professor accompanied by storm came to your house offering a safe place, you'd call your second home now. What about the parents? they still visit you once in a while. At the beginning you thought they were the one who called Professor to take you out but turned out wrong. Charles who's the one tracked you. They never abandoned their little girl, the reason why your mom and dad let you go is for the reason that you will be able to accept your gifts and harness it for the better use like X-Men did. So here you are now. Being an exemplary student after 4 years of practicing in this gifted school.

Logan is one of your favorite teachers. He teaches history. You two share quite strong bonding whether in usual or defense class. Always has his eye on you, protecting you even though he knows it's just a practice. That's how you develop a crush on him since last year. After Jean's death, Logan has been a different man, he mourns for almost 6 months fully. But when he was told to teach history to fill his days by the professor he got better. That's the moment he met you.

The party is almost done, several of your friends went back to the dorm already. You and Gina and Hector are left behind. Enjoying each other's company till almost midnight. 

When you got back to your room, you saw logan and Ororo chatting in the living room. They didn't hear you coming, you were about to say hi but it stopped your intention when you heard Miss Grey's name in the conversation.

“So how you feeling logan?” ororo asked

“Great, the kids are quite a handful but i always manage it i always do”

“No, not the kids. I mean jean. Still dreamed of her?”

“O-oh yeah still the same. It's always about the wars and her, every night”

“You have to move on logan. That was not your fault. Try to make peace with it. I hate to see my friend suffer” she sighed

“It is what it is storm. At least I get occupied with the kids. Leave me struggling just at night” he answered while sipping the beer

You were still there, knowing it was wrong to eavesdrop on your teacher's conversation. That's all because of Logan, your curiosity increases when it comes to him.

“I see you close with Y/N. You two seem to share a special moment in every class you taught. Would you tell me about that?” 

“Y/N?” he chuckle, “Nah she's a sweet kid but I just care for her as a student”

“Maybe caring for someone can mean something logan. You act differently around her I can see that. Smile more often. She able to dissipate your scowl face instantly and the school is not against it let me tell you”

Little did you know,you smile hearing her chatter

“No storm, she wasn't even near to Jean” logan almost snapped and bowed his head in frustration.

You've heard it all. Heart breaks into pieces knowing he doesn't feel anything for you after all he does the whole damn year. Feeling you shouldn't be there since the beginning, you stupidly stepped back, hand hitting the vase on the table near you. The vase breaks into pieces resembling how your heart feels right now. Logan and Storm are taken aback with what happened. You ran fast but carefully to your room, hoping they would not see you in the first place. 

“What was that?” logan asked

“I don't know. No one's here. The hall is empty too” while looking around

“Maybe the pets did it” she adds

“Yeah maybe. Let's just clear this up” was the last thing you heard from your room.

Crying silently, you want to stop but you just can't. There's agony and rage inside of you.

“Why you feel hurt Y/N? Why? he's just try to be a good teacher, nothing more. Accept it, accept it you stupid pathetic girl. You're not Miss Jean Grey” talking to yourself like a lunatic. 

The crying is getting uncontrollable. You become bad at controlling your power if you were filled with so much negative energy but forcing the dark power inside to not come out is hard. You don't want to wake everyone up. So, you decide to go to the backyard in a hurry. Near the lake u keep trying to hold it all but your body can't lie. Your face is numb, can't feel anything. Body floating in the air and is circled by the red light which is your power. You were struggling, and couldn't catch a breath.

Professor woken up by the energy of yours. He awakened all the teachers and told them to go to your room but you're not there. All of them went directly to the backyard but they found nothing, you were drowning in the lake at that moment. Logan saw a vague red light from the water. He knew it was you, he jumped into the water to save you.

You are all wet and unconscious. Storm doing CPR so that the water you swallowed spat out. You woke up for a moment and saw everyone.

“Jesus kid, are you okay?” he asked, full of worry in his voice. 

“I'm s-sorry i…” said you faintly

Before you could continue you ran out of energy and blacked out. They finally bring you to the lab. Logan was the one carrying you there without you realizing it.

I will make several part of this story. I've rarely seen angst for Logan, so I try to write it myself. Let me know your thoughts about this. Hope you guys enjoy it!

[outlaw-apologist]

Saved By The Gang | RDR2 x Reader

In which your SO saves you from your kidnappers! This was a request from AO3 :) Characters: Arthur, Hosea, Dutch, Sean, Charles GN!Reader Warnings for each story: Arthur: Graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, and dismemberment Hosea: Graphic depictions of violence and human trafficking Dutch: Graphic depictions of violence, Dutch being himself Sean: Depictions of violence, use of strong language Charles: Graphic depictions of violence. Implied SA Notes: I kinda ended up writing these more from the characters POVs, so I hope that’s okay. I apologize for any errors of if my writing is bad. I’ve been struggling with insomnia so I'm not thinking great rn. I looked at this so much I kinda hate it lmao so I’m just gonna raw dog my mistakes :’) AO3 Link Arthur: Arthur had been gone for awhile doing the craziest things. He didn’t mean to be away from camp for so long, it just kinda happens. He decided to stop in Van Horn to finish up some quick business when he noticed your horse. Was it really-? Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he studied the markings on the horse’s coat. That definitely was your horse but you weren’t the one in the saddle. “Hey there partner.” Arthur made quick work crossing the road with long purposeful strides. “Where’d you get that there horse?”

The rider looked a bit flustered. “Isn’t’e a beaut? I found it just due south of Roanoke Valley all alone. Rider abandoned it so I thought I outta take ‘em in and give ‘em some good old lovin’.” “Roanoke Valley you say?” He scoffed. What the hell would you be doing up there? “Well, I know the owner of this fine horse and they wouldn’t just go off and leave like that. Where exactly did you find it?” “Listen Mister, I don’t want any trouble.” Agitation arose in the rider causing Arthur to throw his hands up in surrender. “No trouble here. I couldn’t care less about the horse. I just wanna make sure my friend is okay.” After careful consideration the stranger finally shrugged. “I found it drinking at the Kamassa river Northwest of Annesburg.” “Thank ya kindly.” Arthur tipped his head graciously. He hadn’t been up in that area before but the stories he heard weren’t great. This undoubtedly meant trouble. Arthur hardly mounted his horse before a bit of gossip reached his ears. “Another wagon disappeared near the mines. This time three women went missing.” “It’s gotta be that Murfree Brood. I heard they eat anyone they capture. Incestuous cannibals the lot of ‘em. Doubt we’ll ever see those poor women again.” “Shit!” A growl ripped from Arthur’s throat. His heels dug into his horse’s sides and he slapped the reigns. What if that were you? Kidnapped with those women? He needed to find you and fast. “C’mon Y/N. You better not be dead.” His heart pounded in his chest, wind whipping past as he cut off other riders on the trail in haste. He didn’t mean to be gone for so long… Away from YOU for so long… He always thought you understood it. His need to be everywhere and anywhere. And you did… You do… Yet, somehow, regret was eating at him like a deranged wolf. Snapping at the back of his mind, replaying memories upon memories of him returning to your arms after being away for ages. Arthur took for granted that you’d always be there when he gets back. He shouldn’t have left you as much as he does. He should have asked you to come with him. If you had business up in this region he could have been there to protect you. That horse is your world, he knows that. Maybe that’s why his mind was racing with so many regrets and thoughts.  That horse is your everything, if you weren’t on that horse you were probably seriously injured… or worse. That realization put a lot into perspective. It was always ‘What if I never return to Y/N?’ and never ‘What if Y/N never returns to me?’ “C’mon Morgan. Keep it together.” He had to shake these stormy thoughts away. Was it possible that he’d find you alright? Maybe a mild injury? Absolutely. But fuck, if it didn’t give him so much anxiety. Upon reaching the approximate area Arthur slowed his horse using gentle praises. “Easy now.” He reached out to pet it appreciatively, allowing his body filled with tension to drop down. Blue green eyes squinted while searching for clues or any sign of his beloved. Luckily Arthur picked up a few things while bounty hunting and it only took him ten or so minutes to find footprints he thinks matches yours. While following them he started noting how far apart your steps were. You were running. ‘Running from what?’ “Christ.” Arthur’s nose wrinkled just as the wind carried over the scent of rotting flesh. Sure enough there was a dead fellow not far from your tracks. The bullet casings surrounding the corps were definitely from your gun. Was this one of the cannibals? Arthur moved the body, flipping it over using his foot. He looked malnourished and white as paper. Even his clothes were rags. Arthur wasn’t really sure exactly what a cannibal looked like but if he had to take a guess, a cannibal would look like this feller right here. “Fuck, Y/N. What’ave you gotten yourself into?” Those sinking thoughts were back, dragging him into a pit of despair. Would he find your half eaten corpse somewhere in the woods? Are you still alive? Were you scared? You’re a shit significant other, Morgan. That’s what he told himself over and over again, shifting trough the bramble. What kind of man doesn’t know what his lover is up to? If he wasn’t so far up the ass of being ‘Arthur Morgan the big bad Outlaw’ he would know. Regret. Regret for not holding you in his arms every night. For not returning to you more often. He should have had more time with you. Should’ve spent every waking moment with you. How could he be so dense? This life was dangerous! He always stressed that to everyone who would listen. So why didn’t he spend all of his free time with you? None of you knew when your last breath would be taken, how could he waste so much precious life away from you? That fear only grew when those scared eyes focused on the disturbing image of human arms sewn together into some kind of hanging tree ornament. A gloved hand covered his mouth to suppress a gag. Gore wasn’t something that usually affected Arthur, but the thought that this could be you made him feel ill. At least he knew he was going in the right direction. It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a couple of the Brood. He couldn’t hear the exact words being said because his ears immediately attuned to your cries of pain. Creeping closer in the grass, hand on his holster, Arthur grit his teeth at the scene playing out before him. Never in his life had he felt so much white hot rage. One of the sick fucks held you by the hair while another tried to pin you down. “We’re just gonna cut yer leg off!” He laughed. “What’re ya cryin’ for?” “No!” You screamed, desperately trying to fight against them. For three nights you watched in horror as the others captured were slaughtered, tortured, and eaten. Carved like Thanksgiving turkeys. For three whole nights you couldn’t sleep, drink, or eat because you were so terrified of these monsters. They saw how scared you were and they loved it. Milking every second of it. Because of your exhausted state fighting against them was grueling. “You killed our brother, it’s only fair.” A scream ripped through you just as your flesh tore against the blunt blade of a rusty sickle. “Get away!” Everyone froze, heads snapping towards the all too familiar voice. “Arthur?” “Y/N.” Arthur caught your gaze, a look of relief washing over him. You’re alive! “Hey! Who do you think you are coming hea-” The Brood member pulling your hair didn’t have enough time to finish his sentence before his head was blown off with a crackling BANG! Silence rang out after the loud pop from Arthur’s gun, then the mans body dropped. “You shot my brother!” “And I’ll shoot you too if you don’t get the fuck outta here!” With a click of his cattleman revolver, the last man scrambled up to run. “Too slow.” A dirty finger squeezed the trigger and down he fell. You simply stared as everything unfolded before you, your cries not subsiding but becoming much quieter. After all your pain and torment… All those people gutted like human sacrifices… Arthur killed your captors so easily. “Y/N.” His voice was gentle as he knelt beside you. Finally you shattered. Sobbing violently as soon as his arms enveloped you securely. You wanted to say his name. To tell him everything that had happened but couldn’t manage anything past blubbering incoherently. Never had Arthur felt so much heartbreak. Not from any loss or any breakup he had experienced so far. You’re one of the strongest people he knew. Seeing you look so small and afraid was devastating. Especially because this should have never happened to begin with. “I know.” Was all he could say. “Shhh, I know. You’re okay.” While embracing you with one arm he peered over to inspect your thigh. “I know darlin’, I don’t wanna let you go but I need to stop the bleeding.” He quickly hushed the whimper that passed your lips upon feeling his body shift away. Arthur’s fingers trembled, fumbling with his bandanna. Christ, this affected him more than he ever could’ve imagine. It took a minute but finally he managed to tie it above your wound to limit your bloodflow before immediately picking you up. Arthur made sure you could hide your face in his chest so you didn’t have to look at any of the hanging dismemberments on your way out. “God Y/N.” His arms around you were tight. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you. It’s okay now.” He tried to console you. To console himself. Hell, if he were in your shoes this would be more traumatizing for him than the Colm O’Driscolle ordeal. He could only imagine how you feel. Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to sit you on his horse yet. The moment you were in fresh woods he dropped to his knees and held you. Rocking you, kissing your hair and breathing in your scent. Sweet nothings fell from his lips in soft shaky whispers. Pads of calloused thumbs wiping away every tear from your cheeks. All you could do was cry and cling to him. All he could do was hold you as if it were for the last time. And it almost was. The last time. “How’d you find me?” After what seemed like hours of you two embracing each other, Arthur finally helped you onto his horse and you were on your way back to camp. “Saw some feller in Van Horn ridin’ your horse. Complete coincidence.” Arthur could feel how tense that statement made you so he added quickly, “Don’t worry. I’ll get your horse back. I just wanted to make sure you were safe first.” “Thank you, Arthur. For everything.” “I know how much you love that horse, it’s nothin’.” “No, I mean… Thank you for always being there when I need you.” Silence washed over the both of you. Arthur didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry darlin’.” You could feel him arm gently tighten around you in a loose hug. “I could’ve lost you tonight. I got to thinkin’ and… I know I haven’t been the best to you. I always prioritize everyone else. It shouldn’t be like that.” “Oh Arthur-” “I’m serious. I’ve lost Mary and Eliza. Most of my friends are long cold in their graves. I don’t know nothin’ about gods or divine intervention. Don’t know if something led me to you or not this time around….. I guess I was always feelin’ sorry for you because you’re datin’ a walkin’ target. Thought some space between us might do us some good in case I die. Never did I once consider life without you.” Arthur let out a hollow laugh which lacked any mirth or warmth. “What a fool I’ve been. I ain’t never learn my lesson. Tonight showed me that, that’s for damn sure. I dunno what you were doin’ out here but for now on if I leave camp I’m not going anywhere without you.” An exhausted smile reached your lips. “Good. My handsome man, it’s always been you and me. You just had to ask.” “You and me, huh? I like the sound of that.” You fell asleep in Arthur’s arms long before you reached camp. Arthur held you when you arrived, petting your hair as Ms. Grimshaw stitched up your leg. Arthur was needy after your attack. He never let you out of his sight and would always insist on holding you. Especially during nightmares that plagued you for months after the accident. Arthur stayed up singing to you and rocking you for many many long nights. And, of course, he got your horse back! How he did it or by what means, you didn’t care to ask. Slowly life returned to normal and the incident was long behind you both. Arthur kept his promise to take you everywhere until the very end. ___ Hosea: Five minutes. He took his eyes off of you for FIVE minutes so he could speak to the owner of a fence in San Denis while you waited for him outside, and you were gone. “Y/N?” He called out in confusion, scanning the sidewalks and streets for any sign of you. At first he’s annoyed. Did you wander off without saying anything? Hosea waved over the nearest group of men lingering nearby. “Good day. You wouldn’t happen to have seen my associate hanging around out here, would you? They seemed to have disappeared.” One of the men nodded. “Oh yeah, some nasty business I tell ya.” Well shit. “Nasty?” Hosea cocked his head, resting his hand over his holstered gun. “How so?” “These crazies came and bonked them over the head, saying they owed money or somthin’. Decided to mind my own business because they’re all brandishing guns.” “Money, huh? What way did they go?” “That way.” He pointed Eastward. “Towards the docks.” Tipping his hat, Hosea made his way down the sidewalk. He looked both ways before crossing the road, grabbing onto the trolley as it passes, riding the step until he reached the docks. The sun was setting but he knew your form like the back of his hand. It wouldn’t be too hard to spot you against the fire of the sky. However, you nor the supposed men were anywhere in sight. “Excuse me.” He flagged down a sailor and asked him if he’s seen you. He had not. Neither had the other five people he asked. Hosea knew this wasn’t good. The trail ran cold, leaving him hopeless.  There was nothing he could do but return to Shady Belle with a heavy heart. As your husband he was always supposed to protect you. Never in a million years did he think you’d be snatched away right under his nose. Mounting Silver Dollar, Hosea struggled to hold his tears at bay. The city was starting to suffocate him and he needed to leave in order to breathe and think. The weight of the world was finally settling into his old bones on the ride back. The horror the gang had experienced the last few months was devastating. The Blackwater incident aside – Arthur’s escape from Colm, Sean’s death, little Jack’s kidnapping…. Dutch wasn’t listening to reason anymore. The gang was in shambles and now… He let out a defeated sob, hanging over his horse for privacy. What was he supposed to do without you? You’re all he has left. His entire world. What if he wouldn’t be able to find you? It all happened so quickly. To think only an hour ago you were fixing his shirt collar, hanging on his arm with a smile on your face and now POOF! Gone. This was the last drop in the bucket for Hosea. Suddenly he couldn’t stop his tears no matter how hard he tried. He was tired. So god damn tired. Silver Dollar slowed to a stop just off the road. If anyone who passed-by peered close enough through the darkness they could make out the silhouette of a broken man with his head in his hands. He kicked himself for stalling your rescue. Precious time finding you, wasted. By the time he made it back to camp it was late into the night. Dragging himself up the stairs of Shady Belle he knocked on the door to Dutch’s room. Candlelight could be seen flickering through the crack of the doorway leading to Hosea believe he must still be awake. Silence. He knocked again, this time Hosea could hear the bed squeak. “You better have a good reason to disturb me.” Those words flew sharply through the cold humid air. “Dutch…” Hosea would have cursed himself for sounding so… weak. Calling out his friend’s name with a wavering voice. It was noticeable enough to immediately draw Dutch’s attention. The bed squeaked under Dutch’s weight then heavy footsteps led to the door. Hosea kept his gaze down, watching Dutch’s shadow as he moved until the door creaked open and the faint candlelight illuminated Hosea in contrast against the inky hallway. “Hosea- What happened?” “Y/N… I don’t know, it all happened so fast.” Wrapping an arm around Hosea, Dutch led him inside, guiding him to sit. “What happened to Y/N?” “I was looking for a buyer for the bonds we have left, asked them to wait outside because I was just going to be a moment. I stepped out and Y/N was gone. Apparently a group of men took them towards the docks. I tried not to arouse suspicion, I-… Maybe I should’ve gotten there faster, I don’t know…” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Y/N wasn’t there. I may have been too late.” “Someone just took them? In broad daylight?” “Just like that.” Hosea snapped his fingers. “Somethin’ aint right.” Rubbing his chin quizzically, Dutch began pacing the room. “Y/N isn’t stupid, they would’ve screamed or something. You really didn’t hear anything?” He paused to watch Hosea shake his head. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Staring down at his hands, Hosea slowly uncurled his fingers, watching the light dance over his palms. “It was a setup.” “It was a setup.” His friend repeated. “But by who?” “Could be Milton.” “I don’t think so. He’s a thorn in our side. If it were Milton he would’ve showed up in our camp already. Waving Y/N around like a prize.” “That’s very true…” Hosea only looked up when he heard Dutch abruptly halt. “It can’t be….” “What?” “Perhaps… Bronte had a hand in this? I don’t think we’ve done anything to cross him but he’s the only man in the city who could kidnap anyone in broad daylight and not a soul would tell.” He could feel the relief wash through him, the possibility bringing him a weird sense of comfort. He hoped it was Bronte. That would mean you’re probably safe and sound somewhere just like Jack was. “We’ll get Y/N back, Hosea. Let me pull some strings. We’ll find them.” The strings were pulled quite quickly as Hosea found himself waiting outside yet another fabulous party for Arthur to return. “It wasn’t Bronte.” His heart sank. “It wasn’t? Are you sure?” “Pretty sure.” Arthur leaned against the residential fence while lighting a cigarette. He was gussied up to fit the mood. “Asked around ‘n’ nobody had a clue what I was sayin’. I did, however, get this.” Held out between two fingers was a business card. Interested, Hosea accepted it. “Exotic Imports and… Impurities?” “Human trafficking. They apparently have these masquerade parties where rich folk can bid on people anonymously. I think that’s where Y/N is.” God… Was Saint Denis truly such a shit hole? He knew this place was low, but a human trafficking ring? “Are you sure?” Arthur met Hosea’s gaze with the most sincere look he could muster. “Hosea-” “I know you wouldn’t lie to me dear boy.” “I heard someone mentioning there’ll be an auction there this Friday. They mentioned someone who sounds pretty darn close to Y/N’s description in the lineup. I’ll scope the place out, maybe we can rescue Y/N sooner than that. And if not…” Hosea tucked the card into his pocket. “I guess we’re attending the masquerade.” Arthur knows how much you and Hosea are sweet on each other. How hard it was for Hosea after Bessie’s passing and how you brought life back into him. Arthur would do anything for you. So when he had to scope out where the auction will take place he took the job very seriously. He wanted to get you out as soon as possible if you were really there. The place was heavily armed, much to his dismay. An open window was easy enough to sneak into but getting you out was near impossible. He couldn't even find you. However, in a back room Arthur discovered a pile of discarded clothing. A shoe caught his eye, one he knew you wore often. Before he was able to grab it Arthur had to leave as the area filled with guards. “Y/N is in there alright. Too busy for me to get ‘em.” He reported back upon his return to camp. That’s how Hosea, Dutch, Arthur, Bill, Micah, and Charles found themselves attending one of the most unnerving ‘parties’ in San Denis on a muggy Friday evening. They looked expensive, dressed down to the newest shoes on the market. Each donning their own masquerade mask. The building looked beautiful. Expensive. Guest flooded the entrance. “Guns aren’t allowed at this event.” A doorman held his hands out while the gang handed over their weapons. They weren’t worried. If everything was going according to plan John and Javier should already be inside posing as security. Upon entering the mansion, the gang mingled and sweet-talked everyone they could. Trying to get information, word of your safety, anything. One by one they slipped out of the room to John or Javier who gave their guns back to them before joining the guests in the auction room. The auction room was massive, theatrical even. Women in glorious gowns, men who’s suits cost more than a house, they all gathered with glasses filled with alcohol of their choosing. Chatting and laughing as if they’re about to watch a play. Hosea’s stomach churned. The curtains opened to reveal the first person to be auctioned. It was a young girl trembling and sobbing. He gripped the armrest of his seat, knuckles turning white. One by one these people were being bid on. “7,000 dollars. Do I hear 7,000 dollars? 7,500. 8,000 to the man in white!” All of this stress made him want to down glass after glass of alcohol. If he didn’t need to be clear headed he would’ve. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” You were shoved onstage. Even though your face was covered he recognized you immediately. Almost a week ago you were idly waiting outside, gazing down at your clothing trying to fix a button when you were struck from behind. Blurry vision greeted you after, god only knows how long you were unconscious. Blinking it away you tried to move but to no avail. Hands and feet bound, you were left alone in a cold room. Little light trickled into your cell. You could hear the cries and pleas of other people who were presumably prisoners too. Every time you tried to snap at or fight against the guards they beat you. They fed you just enough food and water to keep you barely alive. It was hell. Every night you prayed someone would find you. Anyone! Hosea, Arthur- were they looking for you? It had been so long…. “Get up.” You snapped awake with a groan as you were kicked. The guard pulled you up, dragging you to get washed and dressed. Stumbling into a back room after being shoved, you blinked at all the faces staring back at you. These were the people you heard crying at night. “What’s happening?” You whispered. Only one woman was brave enough to speak up. Her low voice shook with emotion. “They’re selling us.” “What!?” “Be quiet or I’ll make you quiet!” A guard snarled at you, causing you to shy away. For hours you listened silently to the auction from backstage. Was this really happening? It felt so surreal. Fear filled you as the line moved forward until you were next. A bag was forced onto your head so you couldn’t see. Fingers dug into your arms, you could feel yourself being dragged onto the stage, causing you to stumble. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” Your breath hitched painfully. Heart racing loudly. This is it. You were about to be sold as person number 9. Bracing yourself for the bidding a loud boom crackled beside you, so loud it made your ears ring. Your head snapped in the direction it came from. Not being able to see anything, panic arose within you as the screams and sounds of running reached you. The crowd was fleeing for their lives! Gunshots popped off in the surrounding area. You ducked down in case any bullets flew your way. “Y/N!” “H-Hosea?” The bag was lifted off your head, beaming lights above glared into your eyes causing you to squint. Hosea’s face slowly came into view. He wrapped his arms around you, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’d love to have a romantic reunion with you, my dove, but I’m afraid we’re in the midst of a shootout.” “I can see that.” You groaned, hanging onto him. For an older man he sure did carry you with ease while shooting his way out with the gang backing him up on either side. “Hosea, let’s go!” Dutch shot the guard who blocked off the door. Hosea had to pass you to Arthur, who barreled through a cloud of bullets with you safely tucked in his arms. He was able to reach the rendezvous carriage, placing you inside before anyone else could enter. Hosea slid in and gathered you in his arms. “Drive, damn it!” He called out, causing the carriage to lurch violently before moving. “Oh Y/N. Oh my little dove.” He carefully looked you over as tears filled your eyes. You were shaking, veins pumping with adrenaline. Your rescue happened so quickly it made your head dizzy. Hosea’s hands were gentle as he touched you in case anything hurt or scared you in your shaken state. He examined every inch. Face was pensive, while taking in every mark and bruise on your delicate skin. “Are you seriously hurt anywhere?” “No.” You whispered, pressing against your husband for comfort. He gladly held you, kissing your lips over and over again. “I’m sorry it took me so long my love. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.” Hosea rest his head atop yours and rubbed circles on your back soothingly. “Let’s get you back to camp and fed.” “Thank you.” You nuzzled him, breathing in his comforting scent. “I knew you’d come for me. I missed you.” “I missed you too.” The rest of the ride was quiet. When the carriage parked outside of Shady Belle, Hosea scooped you up immediately. You gasped as the whole gang rushed  over to greet you. “Y/N’s back!” Abigail announced. “Oh Y/N, I’m so glad you’re safe!” Mary-Beth gushed with relief. Even Pearson was there to see you. “Welcome home Y/N. Camp ain’t the same without ya.” “Thank you everyone.” You let out a watery laugh, heart filled with love. You were so appreciated amongst this group and it showed. Hosea brought you inside, cleaning you carefully. He asked if anything hurt or if anyone touched you and you responded with yes or no. He clothed you in his own clothes, hoping his scent would bring comfort. A warm bowl of stew was pushed into your hands. Hosea held you while you ate and snuggled you up until you went to bed. He played with your hair all night, unable to sleep after losing you. ___ Dutch: Dutch doesn’t notice you’re gone until the ransom note arrives. “$3,000 in exchange for your lover?” He scoffed. “Who does he think he is? We’ll light his ass up.” The page was quickly crumpled in his hand. Dutch felt a deadly fury rise in him so great his own blood ran colder than the Upper Montana river. Colm O'Driscoll won’t get away with it this time. Not after what he’s done to Dutch’s past lover and to Arthur. “Dutch, I think we should be cool about this one. He already captured me to draw you in for the Pinkertons. He’s probably not done try’nna cut his deal with ‘em. If we ride in hot-” “Not now, Arthur. A few Pinkertons we can handle. This is Y/N we’re talking about, for Christ’s sake.” He scoffed, face snarling up in anger. “Y/N would have come for you, dear boy, had we known you were taken. Y/N would have come for you.” Arthur heaved out a sigh. He still wasn’t fully well after the green gang shot him up. “I know, Dutch. I love Y/N just as much as anyone. We ain’t ever leave one of us behind. I just think… If they want to draw us in they’ll treat Y/N right. If it’s a trap it’ll make more sense for us to come in quiet and get Y/N outta there safely.” “We don’t have time!” Dutch grabbed his gun, much to Arthur and Hosea’s exasperation. “Dutch, I know you love Y/N, but I think Arthur may be right.” “Who’s side are you on, Hosea? If that were you we would already be on the road.” He waved his gun around before holstering it. The air in camp was tense. Dutch seemed… Unsettled. Unpredictable. His eyes were crazy. Love made him crazy. “Who’s with me? John, Micah, Bill?” John and Arthur exchanged looked while Bill jumped up eagerly. Micah seemed interested but didn’t bother grabbing anything extra like the others. “I’m comin’ with you.” Arthur’s shoulders fell. He followed Dutch through camp up to The Count which Dutch mounted with ease. “No, dear boy. You rest. Watch the camp with Hosea, we should be back before dawn.” “Alright, if you say so. Be careful out there Dutch. Things are getting nasty. Bring Y/N home.” “Oh, I intend to.” With the rescue party ready Dutch rode out with his boys. “If you see an O’Driscoll, shoot. If you see a Pinkerton, shoot. We leave no one alive. Not even the women. If Colm wants to play, we’ll play. By our rules.” John moved up beside Dutch, calling out over the whistling wind. “Are you sure about this Dutch? What if Y/N gets hurt?” “Y/N isn’t getting hurt.” The words were spoken as if John’s idea was ludicrous. “Now you boys know how I feel about Y/N. And I-… Well, call me foolish, but I’ll never let any man, beast, or tycoon lay a finger on the love of my life. The moment we slaughter his sons he’ll know we mean business. Colm is many things, but stupid he is not. He knows hurting Y/N would give us cause to burn his world down piece by piece and I don’t think he could take the heat.” “As is your right, Dutch.” Micah spoke up. “The O'Driscolls should know by now you’re a kind and just man. I’m sure they understand the reckoning hurting their assets would bring.” Feeding into Dutch’s anger pleased the gang leader. “That’s what I thought.” He agreed. The rest of the ride was tense with anticipation. John knew there was nothing he could say. He just hoped you’d survive all of this. Dutch was getting sloppy and with you involved… He would slaughter the whole world if he had to. “We’re here.” Dutch announced. Night had long fallen by the time they reached the O’Driscoll hideout. “Let’s make a little noise. Micah-” Riding closer to the compound, Micah lit a stick of dynamite, throwing it over the fence. Dutch watched with great pleasure as the O’Driscoll boys caught in the blast began to scream. “Let’s show them you don’t fuck with Dutch van der Linde.” The guns came out. Time slowed down, men began to rush at them. The Count reared, spooked by the sudden barrage of bullets. Dutch shot every single O’Driscoll effortlessly, one by one. You were beginning to think Dutch wasn’t coming. Why would he after Arthur outed Colm’s setup a week ago? They had kicked your face in until your mouth filled with blood and your nose cracked in three different places. Breathing was hard with your damaged ribs. The O’Driscoll’s wasted no time in beating you to a bloody pulp before tying you up. The way you were tied was ridiculous. Your hands and feet were tied separately then were tied together to ensure you wouldn’t be able to move an inch. You guessed Arthur’s escape was a sore spot. You struggled and fought until the ropes dug angry marks, rubbing the skin away. In all honestly you usually would have half a mind to spit at or curse any O’Driscoll out, however this seemed different. It was grim, very grim. You remember how scary it was watching Arthur collapse off his horse barely alive and wondered – would you make it? Surely they won’t let an escape happen again... Dutch would probably move camp, you thought. And if you could survive… I don’t know, a week longer, he’ll come and get you. These were the thoughts running through your head while you tried to plan your survival. ‘It’ll be torture, but I can last that long’, you reassured yourself. It didn’t work. Colm killed Dutch’s girl way back, what’s stopping him from doing it again? You knew the man had a nasty streak to him. And Dutch… well... killing you sure would make Dutch slip up enough to get caught. That bastard Colm just wanted to see him hang. Many many thoughts occupied your mind as you dozed off. Aches and pains were screaming at you so being unconscious was probably best. At the brink of sleep you were jolted wide awake by a loud explosion. You froze, halting your breath, straining your ears to listen. Silence. What’s going on? BANG BANG BANG! Dutch- It had to be him! Your face lit up with hope, eyes fixated on the door. Any minute now... The O’Driscoll’s screamed, cursed, and cried out. “Get ‘em!” “Don’t let them inside!” “We gotta hold this for Colm!” Despite anticipating its happening you still flinched back when the door was kicked in. “Y/N.” Dutch sighed out of relief. Kneeling down he cut you loose, brushing the hair from your face. You both were quiet. Just taking each other in. You because you had missed him, and him because he was stunned by how badly you were beaten. “Those animals. We’ll make ‘em pay.” Dutch’s words were said more to himself than to you. “I’m alright, I can walk, I think-” Helping you up, Dutch’s eyes filled with sadness when he noticed you wincing. He could hear your chest heave with pain and it was grading against his eardrums. “I’ll carry you. Just hang on, we haven’t cleared them all yet.” Scooping you into his chest, your arms were granted purchase around his neck. Dutch was stronger than he looked. He held onto you with one arm wrapped tightly to secure you while shooting any man who ran this way with the other. “Bastards! They’re everywhere! John, Micah, let’s go!” “You get Y/N?” John asked after shooting three more men. There were so many O’Driscolls they couldn’t even take their eyes off them to check on you. “Yeah. Let’s get outta here.” Micah covered Dutch’s right while John covered his left and back. They shot the best they could until finally they were free of the building. Dutch placed you on The Count, climbing behind you. The others quickly mounted seeing as there was no way they’d win this gun battle if they stayed. “Shit! Incoming!” Bill cried out, alerting everyone to the drove of Pinkerton galloping straight towards the gang’s direction. “God dammit!” Jerking the reigns, Dutch kicked his horse into action. “This way, c’mon! Let’s lose them through the trees. We gotta hope we can outrun them.” There you were, rocketing towards salvation on a white horse. Pinkertons and O’Driscolls crashing down around you like violent ocean waves. There was so much noise to the point where your ears rang in an effort to tune it all out. Breath didn’t leave your body. Time slowed. You watched in horror. Every bullet shot by John seemed to take ages before knocking down its opponent. Bill was screaming yet not a word of it reached you. You could feel Dutch’s arm wrap tighter and tighter around your waist. Suddenly you’re soaring through the air, hair flying back against the dusty breeze. This was it. The moment of truth. The Count’s feet touched down  after leaping over a fence and suddenly time returned to normal and everything sped up in your race for life. Your heart thuds erratically, clammy hands clinging to the saddle for dear life. “Duck!” Dutch ordered and you immediately lowered your head before a low hanging branch creamed you. You stayed low Dutch’s body now covering you protectively. You couldn’t see and had no idea what was going on. Your own breathing was so loud at this point it took you awhile to register – the shooting had stopped. There was no more screaming, no more calling out or angry orders being shouted. Only the sound of four horses huffing and puffing and your own shaky breaths filled the air. “My love… Are you alright?” Dutch lifted himself off of you, his horse slowing to rest. “I…. I think so.” You gazed down at your hands and arms before looking at Dutch with wide traumatized eyes. “Oh, my little bird. I’m so sorry they hurt you. I came as soon as I could. They’ll pay for this.” Something sinister swirled behind his eyes but his fingers were gentle against your skin while caressing your face. “Come now, let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. You need rest.” Dutch kissed your shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here now. So glad.” ___ Sean: Sean thought you were mad at him. Avoiding him for some awful comment he made because he, yet again, went too far. It hurt his feelings but he decided you’d probably come back when you were ready to see him again. “Sean, have you seen Y/N?” Mary-Beth asked. “I haven’t seen Y/N since yesterday morning.” Sean’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. You weren’t the type to leave camp often or without someone accompanying you. “Christ, I haven’t. Where’d you last see them?” “Over by Kieran. I already asked him and he said Y/N helped with the horses then wandered off.” “An’ no one saw them come back?” He began power walking through camp, searching the area for you. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Tilly and Uncle shook their heads, John just gave a shrug. “That isn’t weird to any of yous?” His voice was raised enough to get the attention of Arthur who had just rode in. “What’s goin’ on now?” “Y/N is fucking missing and no one said a damn word about it.” “Alright, alright calm down. I’m sure we can find them, where were they last?” “Oh I don’t know English, lemme just take this crystal ball out of my ass-” Sean rolled his eyes while grabbing his gun. “We’re gonna have to track them down. Think you can do that?” “Well…” Arthur wipes the sweat from his brow. “Charles taught me a few things.” He paused, gently catching Sean’s shoulder. “I know you’re upset but I need you to keep your head. I’m sure wherever Y/N is they’re okay. We’ll get them back safe.” “Speak for yourself, I always keep my wits.” “That right there is what I’m worried about.” Arthur huffed while mounting his horse. Sean was silently grateful for Arthur’s words though he’d never admit it. There was a storm churning inside of him. An ocean of guilt rocking his consciousness. If only he respected your boundaries and didn’t make that joke maybe you wouldn’t have gone missing. “We’ll bring Y/N back safe.” He repeated to himself, climbing onto his saddle. Arthur gave him an affirmative nod. They rode around the outskirts of Clemens Point looking for any sign of you. Sean felt like throwing up the whole entire time. Suspense was killing him. “Over here!” Air left his lungs in relief as soon as Arthur’s voice broke through the thick air. Walking his horse over, that relief was short lived. “Fuck.” Sean hissed. Arthur held a ripped piece of fabric clearly bloodied. The fabric was from something you wore often making it was unmistakable. “Looks like three riders were here. ‘Dunno who they could be, but…” Morgan hesitated, knowing Sean probably shouldn’t hear the next part. “There was quite the struggle.” The Irishman cursed, kicking at a nearby stone, sending it throttling into the trees. “I’ll kill every last one of ‘em! I swear it.” The Van der Linde boys followed the hoof prints best they could, using other clues to figure out what way your kidnappers may have turned when the trail disappeared. With each passing minute Sean’s knuckles turned more and more white around his reigns. “I shouldn’t have said anything. This is my fault.” His feelings were so big inside of him they spilled out of his lips like a broken dam. “I’m a right bastard.” “You two have a fight?” “Sort of… We was fuckin’ around and Y/N got sick of me and asked me to stop teasing them but they look so cute when they’re angry I just- I don’t know.” He hung his head. Arthur studied him silently as they rode. “Well… Sounds about right for you two. I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t blame you.” “Maybe not, English, but I blame myself. I just hope they’re okay.” They didn’t talk any more after that unless to comment on the path changing. A few hours away from camp they came across smoke indicating a fire, right in the general direction of your kidnappers. “Must be them.” Sean was ready to charge in, but Arthur’s hand shot out across Sean’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “We should get to higher ground first, see what we’re dealing with.” “Are you crazy? Y/N could be there!” “That’s exactly why we can’t rush in like fools! What happened to keepin’ your wits? Do you want Y/N getting shot?” Sean’s mouth opened and closed, words getting choked up in his throat. The thought of you getting shot was about to bring tears to his eyes. Shoulders slumping forward, he sucked in a shuddering breath. “Let’s go look up that hill.” “That’s better.” Arthur snapped his kicked his feet, leading his horse higher with Sean close behind. Sean wasn’t playing around now. Knowing you might be close and that you were probably hurt- It took everything in him to quench ranging fire burning within. He whipped out his binoculars, setting eyes on the men surrounding the campfire. “Stupid Lemoyne fucks.” “Do you see Y/N?” Arthur asked. Sean moved his binoculars with his turning head. “I’ve got eyes on them. They’re tied to a wagon just outside of where they’re sitting.” He bit his lip while taking in your sorry form. You were filthy, bloodied, and your face was swollen. They clearly didn’t treat you kindly. “Let’s kill those fucks, Morgan. My baby needs me.” Without another word Sean tucked the binoculars away, charging full force down the hill, cattleman revolver in hand. He managed to shoot one guy in the throat, ducking on his horse to avoid the flying bullets. His horse galloped straight for you, stopping just shy with the intention of creating a barrier between you and the shootout. Arthur did most of the shooting while Sean nearly flung himself off his horse to cut you free. “Oh my baby! What did those bastards do to you?” He gently cleaned your face with his handkerchief, ignoring all the gory sounds echoing from behind. Sean didn’t even notice when everything became silent. You had his full undivided attention. “Sean!” You wept, wrapping your arms around his neck to bury your face into his chest. “I’m sorry baby. I should’ve never let you out of my sight. I’ve got you, my rose. I’m here now.” He kissed your hair, rubbing your back. “Did they hurt you real bad?” Tears now stung his eyes when you nodded. It was difficult seeing you this way. He loves you more than anything else in the world, seeing his partner so beaten and broken- “Shhhh. We’ll make it better.” Sean attempted to calm his tears, crying silently while burying his face in your hair. His chest was warm and welcoming after what you’ve endured. Even though every bone in your body ached all you wanted to do was hug him and you were grateful he didn’t pull away immediately and put you on a horse. “I love you. So much. I was so scared.” You whimpered. “I know, I know I’m so sorry Y/N. About everything. I should’ve never pushed your buttons. I thought you ran away.” “What?” You pulled away in confusion, studying his face. “Sean… You think I’m upset about that?” It was cute seeing Sean feel guilty over a minor playful argument, something you both have often, and you couldn’t help but to giggle. “Don’t be silly.” You reached up, wiping away his tears. Confused, Sean gently caught your hand, pressing kisses to your palm while examining the bruising on your skin. “I guess that’s who I am when I’m with you, Y/N. A silly man. C’mon now.” Carefully you were scooped up into a loving embrace. Sean placed a peck on your lips. He was afraid of hurting you further so he treated you as though you were made of glass. Once you were in his saddle he pulled himself up behind you. “Let’s get you to camp, baby. I’ll make you feel better there.” “Thank you.” You pressed your back against him in relief. Exhaustion flooded your still trembling body. You never had any doubt Sean would come for you but the experience of the Lemoyne Raiders kicking your face in was rather traumatic. “Glad to see you’re okay L/N.” Arthur shot you a little smile. “Sean here was real riled up about your disappearance. Nearly bit my head off.” A faint smile crossed your lips. You winced as your skin pulled on a bruise. “Thank you for coming too, Arthur. If you weren’t here I don’t think he would have been able to rescue me.” “Oh not this again!” Sean groaned. His arm was wrapped loosely around you and he still pressed an odd kiss to your hair here or there. “I would've done just fine!” “You shot one bullet!” Arthur pointed out with a laugh. “Then you flung yourself over your lover like some actor in one of those dramas. If I weren’t here you and Y/N would be riddled with holes by now.” “I love you Arthur Morgan, but shut up. I killed that fellow with one shot! ONE!” “What was stopping you from killing the rest of ‘em?” “Y/N needed me!” “See if I didn’t come-” “Shut up Morgan!” Listening to their familiar arguments was the best welcome home you could’ve ever wished for. Your eyes fell shut as you listened and soon the pain shooting through you and the exhaustion of being awake and afraid all night  started catching up. Slowly your body fell limp against Sean’s chest. You were only faintly aware of his arm tightening around you, keeping you safely on the horse. It was pitch black when you came to. Fear shot you awake, your eyes scanning the darkness. “Sean?” You could hear an exhausted exhale to your right, a hand reached out from the black to gently pet your hair. “I’m here baby.” There was some fumbling then a match lit, illuminating your lover who had fallen asleep sitting next to you. Sean lit a lantern and that’s when you noticed you were laying in Arthur’s cot. “We thought it best to give you some privacy until you’re in tip top shape. Said I wasn’t allowed to sleep with you in it though.” Sean leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just glad to have you back. Get some rest, no one will hurt you now. I’m here.” Relaxing again your fingers laced with Sean’s as you settled back in to sleep. ____ Charles: Charles usually minded his own business whenever you fucked off outta camp for a few days. You had been running with the gang far longer than he has and everyone knew you to be quite capable. God only knows what you’re up to half the time. Similar to Arthur, you’d go off and do your own thing then return with money or a fresh kill and a story of your adventures. Charles likes that about you. He admires your independence and how you have so much strength. When you didn’t show up to camp for a week he didn’t think anything of it. You were probably off climbing waterfalls or helping strangers. The gang carried on as normal unless Dutch wanted to offload a job onto you, then he’d ask around. “Charles.” Dutch called him over with a waggle of his finger. He already heard him calling your name and asking the ladies if they’ve seen you so Charles had an inkling as to what this was about. “Can you go find Y/N? I don’t care what it takes, just get their ass over here. We have money to make.” Charles didn’t mind being asked. Any reason to get some peace and quiet and reunite with you was a good reason in his eyes. The problem was, you were flightly, and your tracks were old. It has rained twice since you left camp. Charles followed your prints the best he could. Up into Strawberry, then to Mt.Shann where he took a break to enjoy the view and watch the birds. Charles smiled a little when he saw you had set camp there at one point. It was a beautiful place to stay, he would have done the same. He then doubled back to Owanjila lake where you had your second camp. He wondered what you were doing in the area, having absolutely no clue. He did, however, chuckle to himself when he found one of your gloves that you must have dropped. “Oh, Y/N.” The words slipping from his lips were fond and warm. He scooped the glove up deciding to store it in Taima’s saddle bag then he carried on his way. Charles began to get confused when your trail led straight back to Valentine. So… you were close to camp and didn’t stop by to rest your horse or grab supplies? That’s very unlike you. These tracks were fresher, not more than a few days old if even. Your lover became frustrated when entering town as the hoof prints belonging to your horse became lost in the bustle of main street and Charles couldn’t pick them up again. “Excuse me. Have you seen-” He began stopping residence of Valentine, asking of your whereabouts. You had been seen at the arms store and according to the man at the front desk of the Saints Hotel you stopped by for a wash only a day before. Well… If you were here yesterday you’ll probably be back at camp soon. After thanking the clerk, Charles returned to Horseshoe Overlook to inform Dutch you’d be back soon. The next day Charles awoke early. “Mr. Smith, can you please go into town and get us some supplies? Normally L/N does it but they ain’t back yet. Ms. Grimshaw ain’t too pleased.” He was attempting to enjoy his early morning coffee when Karen approached him. “Sure.” He set his cup down, accepting the list. “Did Pearson add what he needed?” “He only asked for corn.” He raised a brow in amusement, sharing a knowing look with Karen. “I understand.” Tucking it away safely Charles finished his coffee, throwing the rest out, then made his way to Taima. Your whereabouts weighed heavily on his mind during his ride into Valentine. ‘I miss Y/N’, he thought to himself ‘I hope they return soon’. Camp just wasn’t the same without you. He liked the gang alright but he liked you more. Valentine was a breath of fresh air after Blackwater. Quite literally. Charles took deep breaths, breathing in the crisp mountain air before entering town. Taima was soon hitched outside the general store where Charles leisurely strolled in. He walked around, footsteps echoing in the empty room as he gazed at the shelves. The clerk wasn’t there. “Hello?” He called out. Soon, sound of a door being swung open and rushed footsteps up the stairs filled the silence from what he assumed must have been the store room. “I’ll be right with you.” You were bound painfully tight. Ropes dug into your skin until your wrists bled. Tied to a chair and gagged. It had all happened so fast. Days ago you were going about business as usual. You stocked your ammo; took a nice long bath; and followed a dog around you wanted to pet before returning to camp, and of course, to the arms of Charles. What can you say? You love dogs and this one was particularly funny. You had grinned to yourself, studying the animal as you followed it out back. You didn’t expect to look up and be met with the stares of men who were clearly in the middle of an illegal operation. “Shit!” Your hand flew to your holster then froze as you heard a click and felt the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head. Your hands slowly rose as you tried to eye whoever was behind you. “Well well well, look what we have here, fellers.” “Real unfortunate, ain’t it?” You narrowed your eyes but kept silent. O’Driscolls by the looks of ‘em. “Hey…” A tall one began circling you, looking you over as if you were bait. “I remember you. You run with the Van der Linde boys, don’tcha?” This wasn’t good. “I think you’ve mistaken, mister.” “No… No I recognize you alright.” He stopped in front of you, leaning so close you had to recoil when the stench of his foul breath hit your face. “This isn’t your lucky day-” Before you could react he drew his elbow back and punched you so hard you nearly flew to the ground. Quiet laughs rang out among the group. Pain overcame you when one grabbed you by the hair, literally dragging you into the basement of their operation where you were hastily tied up and beaten several times among other unsavory happenings. For days you starved. Your face swollen beyond recognition. Only did the grocer show you any compassion. Feeding you water while muttering little ‘I’m so sorry, I wish we could let you go’s. He was a nervous man… A sweaty man. Hell you’d be nervous too if a gaggle of insane Irishmen took over the basement of your shop. You appreciated his little kindness but the weight of the situation was never lost on you. You needed to get out and soon, or else they’ll kill you. You thought of Charles and your beloved friends Arthur, Mary-Beth, and Lenny. Were they looking for you? Did they ever realize you disappeared? Today repeated the last two. The second the O’Driscolls noticed you were conscious their abuse started again up until mid morning when they left to take care of some business. The clerk made his way into the basement, removing your gag so he could give you water. “I’m sorry but you have to understand. If I let you go they’ll kill me.” You were too tired to argue with your heavily bruised jaw, sipping at the cool liquid. Suddenly a sound met your ears. Old floorboards overhead creaked with heavy footsteps. “Oh goddammit.” Cloth was shoved into your mouth once more, immediately drying your tongue. “H-Hold on. Stray here..” You glared at the clerk. Where the hell were you gonna go all tied up like this? The sweaty man dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, opening the door that divided you from the outside world. “Hello?” A voice called out, rushing the clerk who felt so overwhelmed and frenzied with stress that he accidentally left the door open. “I’ll be right with you.” Staying coherent is a struggle for you at this point. Listening to light footsteps run up the stairs you let your head hang limp against your shoulder. “What can I help you with?” “Just here to resupply. Do you happen to have… uh… a bushel of corn?” “Corn? Yeah, we got it.” Wait… was that? CHARLES! Energy rocketed through your veins with the hope of rescue. Charles was here! Gazing around frantically you searched for something, ANYTHING. The only thing close by was a broom. Hopping your chair over to it depleted you immediately, every bruise and broken rib screaming out. But you had to do this. You had to get Charles’ attention. It was so much work just to get close enough to tip the broom over. CLINK! Your head snapped towards the stairs with anticipation. Charles read the list over again. “Actually a bushel of apples too.” CLINK! He glanced down at the stairs then at the clerk who laughed nervously. “Haha don’t mind that. Just some junk.” Charles hummed, grabbing a few cans off the shelf. “I’ll take these as well.” “Is that all for you?” Your heart squeezed in your chest. It didn’t work. ‘Charles! Charles I’m right here!’ You so badly wanted to scream. No words left your muffled mouth beyond your hearing. There had to be a way to get his attention. Nothing else was close enough to you and you didn’t have the strength to move yourself and the chair any further. The only thing you could do was throw yourself to the ground as hard as you could and hope for the best. BANG! This time Charles froze. His eyes napped towards the basement then back at the grocer.  A terrified look flashed over the man’s face. That’s suspicious... Oh- “Just some junk, huh?” “Yes sir.” In once swift movement Charles pulled out his gun, cocking the hammer. “Then you wouldn’t mind showing me what’s down there, right?” “H-Hey listen! I don’t want any trouble.” “No trouble here. If there’s nothing down there then I’ll pay and leave.” “It’s just junk mister! Honest!” “Then it should be okay if I take a look at this ‘junk’.” The clerk folded under pressure. “They said they were gonna kill me if anyone found out!” “Then get out of here and hope they don’t find you.” Charles didn’t know who ‘they’ were but he had a pretty good idea about what was going on.  He watched as the grocer fled before cautiously making his way down the stairs, cattleman revolver still drawn. Charles was stunned. All breath left his body in disbelief the second you two made eye-contact. “Y/N!” He hurdled himself towards you, picking the chair up to sit you upright before removing the gag. “What did they do to you?” Swift work was made of your binds and soon you were pulled into the comfort of his chest. Giving a whimper of pain you couldn’t help but to cry tears of relief. “Charles!” Your voice cracked. You almost thought it wouldn’t work and he would leave without you. Charles rubbed your back, pulling away to assess your injuries. “Y/N…… I-.” He didn’t know what to say.  So many emotions hit him in waves, washing over him strongly which inevitably flashed across his face. Anger at the people who hurt his beloved. Guilt for not tracking you any further. Resentment towards himself for not considering you might be missing or in trouble. Sadness. So much sadness. He had never seen you this badly beaten and it disturbed him. Quickly he tried to hide his thoughts. You were so small and frail in his arms, crying uncontrollably now. Charles could imagine by your current state that it must have been a horrible ordeal. “I’ve got you. Can you walk?” All you could do was cling to Charles while shaking your head. You felt the weight of his coat drape around your shoulder before feeling yourself being scooped up. “You found me.” Charles winced at how weak your voice sounded. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead he shushes you. “Save your energy my love. You’ve been through a lot. Let me take care of you.” It’s the least he can do after failing you so badly. As he carried you up the stairs Charles make eye-contact with Sheriff Malloy who bowed his head slightly out of respect – serving as a silent apology. “We’ll hang whoever did this.” He promised.  Deputies flooded the store actively as he spoke. "When we find ‘em, you’ll be the first to know.” “Thank you.” Those words meant nothing to Charles. The Valentine law was useless and it showed. All he could do now was shield you from curious onlookers while mounting Taima with you securely in his arms. “Are you in any pain?” He whispered, making his horse walk so the ride wouldn’t jostle you too much. “Yeah.” Charles had to lean down to catch your quiet words. “Try to rest against me. I’ll get some morphine from the Reverend. Just hang in there. I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He was trying desperately to find the right words to say. Anything that might help you or ease your suffering. Anything that might relieve his guilt. Grasping at words floating around his mind yet none could be combined into something coherent. They rode on in silence. “Mister Strauss, Reverend. We need medicine.” Most of the gang couldn’t see what was going on, Charles had you tucked protectively against him for privacy. He knew you probably didn’t want everyone ogling at you. The air of the situation was enough for everyone to gain understanding and many sprang into action. “How bad is it?” Strauss asked. “I think their ribs are broken, maybe sprained jaw. Definitely a sprained ankle.” “Bring Y/N over here.” Arthur called, leading Charles to his cot. “Probably better than the ground. Shouldn’t be movin’ much with cracked ribs.” Your eyes fluttered open the second you were placed in the comfort of Arthur’s bed. Charles immediately helped you take medicine to ease your suffering. “Do you need anything my love?” His voice was gentle as if speaking to a spooked animal. Large calloused fingers brushed the hair from your face. “Food… Water…” Arthur gently squeezed Charles’ shoulder, earning a grateful look from his friend. “Let me.” Your love settled into a chair beside you, still playing with locks of your hair. “You’re so brave Y/N. And so incredibly smart. I’m so happy you’re safe now. I-… I’ll never let this happen to you again.” He watched you struggle to stay conscious. Maybe the food will have to wait. Slumping forward, he places a feather light kiss upon your lips. “I’m coming with you everywhere for now on.” He knew you couldn’t hear him but it eased his soul just saying those words out loud.

[uranium235s]

it occurs to me I've actually never done anything to introduce my courier despite posting about him 400 times I just kinda made everyone witness him so here's some basic stuff + his lore under the cut (long and probably very boring post incoming)

chester was born in Utah and lived there til he was almost a teenager when the Legion swept through his village and took him as a slave. his parents were much older, and were killed, and his other family (older brother) had left for California some months prior, leaving chester the sole support of his family. he does not remember his birth/original name

chester had some decent experience (for an 11 year old) of fixing machines because his father collected pre-war cars and motors and sold them and their parts for a living and so was sent downriver to Arizona to serve as a repairman and technician. while Legion property he was given the name Chiron

Chester lived in Arizona with the legion until he was 20 years old, hating every minute. a boy around his age by the name of Attilius was charged with keeping watch over him and bringing him new projects, and during the duration of their time together had developed a rapport over Roman poetry and literature, the only thing they could stand to talk to each other about.

Attilius was watching over him when Chester staged his escape and made it out. the two fought with Chester emerging victorious, believing he had killed Attilius, and escaping despite some severe injuries, including a spinal cord injury that ended up giving him brain damage, causing him to live with hallucinations, seizures, and worsening eyesight from this point on

Chester escaped via the Colorado River and came out on the other side in Nevada. he started wandering aimlessly, ignoring his injuries until he began becoming faint and passed out in a toppled semi truck and was discovered by some well intentioned folks that were traveling up the way to Vegas. they got him medical help before leaving him in Primm, at which point he took up a job as a courier with the Mojave Express at age 21, taking on a new name which he now cannot remember.

the freedom of being a courier was something Chester lived for. every day was a good day, he could go anywhere, meet lots of people, and got paid pretty good for his efforts. he was, and I cannot stress enough, perfectly and utterly happy with his simple mailman life, and misses it every sinnggglllee day during the game events. this continued on for ten happy years, in which time he learns that his older brother, Tomás, has become a trooper with the NCR. he avoids reaching out for some years after the discovery, wary of what his brother would think of him for his years in the Legion (even if it wasn't his choice.) when he does reach out, the only thing he receives in return is his brother's dog tags, learning he was killed in the battle of hoover dam 😀👍

the day after his 31st birthday is when he took the platinum chip job and ended up in a shallow grave in Goodsprings. after his brief coma and stay in the doctors house, and picking a new name again (Chester) and after resolving tensions with the Powder Gangers, he immediately cut a path to Vegas on the hunt for Benny. at first, he wanted revenge, but the anger turned to confusion, turned to helplessness. on his way through quarry junction, he was attacked by an injured deathclaw that had been abandoned by the rest of its pack, and recieved the scratches that blinded one of his eyes

after the attack, he managed to run as far as the NCR sharecroppers outside of the Strip before he collapsed and crawled his way to Freeside, where he was discovered by an unsuspecting Arcade, who took him in with haste and stitched him back together. the following day when Chester finally woke, Arcade gave him a full examination and decided it was medically unsafe for him to be alone and decided to follow him to keep an eye on him, though the two get a lot closer over the game events. Arcade also decided it'll be easiest if they make their way back to Primm and start the investigation from where it all began, rather than trying to break into an expensive, well armed luxury district and demand answers from a complete stranger. Chester agrees.

Chester has questionable memory of his past. he more or less remembers being a courier, in fact it's the period of time he remembers best (in comparison) about his life and kind of sensationalizes it and how badly he wants to return to that stage of his life, but the future marches ever onward. he doesn't remember any part of his life before the age of 15, and therefore only remembers he was part of the Legion and not the circumstances as to why. he avoids and detests them, scared that he's forgetting something awful about who he was and what he did, and keeping the information close to his chest. he remembers being Chiron, and doesn't know the limitations of his Chiron persona, and therefore has been renaming himself and reinventing himself every chance he gets (this is made worse by the fact that he remembers "killing" Attilius and fears that it proves he was as evil as the rest of them)

after the game, and because he had formed a strong relationship with Arcade, he elects to join the Followers of the Apocalypse, offering to help find and restore medical supplies across the desert. this arrangement lasts for about a year and a half until the events of Dead Money take place, and chester has a severe downward spiral upon returning home. he gives all his money from the Sierra Madre away immediately, tried to keep the severity of how bad he was doing mentally under wraps so as to not draw any concerns or questions from his friends but ended up breaking down and having a less than stellar confrontation with Arcade involving holding him at gunpoint (I must stress he was not in his right mind!)

after that they grew distant for a few months when Chester was back to patient status amongst the Followers, skirting around camp, talking mostly to some of the better suited doctors about what he was going through, before him and Arcade inevitably made up! and the rest is happily ever after. kind of

other misc things:

• chester playlist

• favorite wasteland animal: bighorner

• favorite radio song: johnny guitar - peggy lee

• lives in Novac and in Freeside

• closest relationship with Arcade, but also with Lily, Julie Farkas, and a decent partnership with Boone, though he gets along better with Manny and talks to him more often when in Novac

• he doesn't remember the dog tags he wears are his brother's, but he keeps them on because he feels like it might be important. I think he rediscovers this fact when he revisits Utah much later in life

• he hates wearing his glasses and pretty much only does so when Arcade or Julie insists he must (and insist they do)

• Attilius did not die in their fight, he was found unconscious and badly wounded and was punished by having his tongue cut out (with the claim that having those talks with Chester made him too weak to do his job.) the two met again during the second battle and he was killed in combat

• he develops a fondness and eventual passion for energy weapons after visiting the Silver Rush with Arcade and taking an interest in why he likes them so

• never returns to the Lucky 38 after the events of the story, so that casino is just rotting eternally. would ideally give the property to anyone who needs it but doesn't know who needs it to begin with

• low intelligence high science and medicine because of how invested he gets in learning from Julie and Arcade, and medicine in particular he finds passion in when speaking to Lily and examining her condition

• high perception because of paranoid hypervigilance

• clothes were given to him by The Followers after he showed up post-deathclaw attack, originally had a denim jacket but it was ruined in the conflict

[lynxgriffin]

Since we've got plenty of time to reflect, who do you the Knight is? (I'm very much hoping it's Papyrus)

Okay! So! 

While I uh, think that Jaru is super wrong on almost all his theories, I've got one major exception where I think he is correct, and that’s the identity of the Knight:

(This is kinda long, so going under the read more)

Namely, that the Knight is Gerson’s soul tied to a particular object and brought to life in the Dark World. Although for me personally, I’m going to tweak that idea quite a bit because I think it can actually tie in really nicely with my current theories on Ralsei’s identity and nature. 

We keep getting little references to Gerson brought up here and there in both chapters: there’s a drawing of a turtle monster in the abandoned classroom, done by Alvin. It’s presumably either Alvin himself or his dad, Gerson, and I’m guessing it’s the latter. We have books written by Gerson in multiple places, a memorial bench for him, and then Alvin’s conversation about him in the graveyard by his headstone. Alvin also mumbles something about “did I do the right thing?” to Gerson’s grave. As long as you initiate a conversation with Alvin, the game makes sure that you don't miss that extra bit, which is a little telling.

We know that Gerson was originally a historian, and then later turned to writing fiction, and wrote a beloved fiction series that fans still send his family letters about after his death. 

What do we know about the nature of the Dark Worlds? They’re basically imagination and fantasy brought to life. While they certainly seem to have a full history outside of what we experience, with characters that remember each other even from other Dark Worlds, they’re only “given form” when a dark fountain is opened. Any Lightner with determination can stab the earth, and a dark, inky substance can spew from it and give a world of fantasy its own form. The Darkners frequently talk about how Lightners give them direction and purpose in their lives.

So…question! How many of you have used a fountain pen?

I have used those before. They’re quite sharp, and using them very often feels like scratching or stabbing the paper. Black ink spews forth, and from this black ink…you can create whole worlds of fiction! Worlds that other people can interact with! 

We know that Gerson wrote beloved fiction well into his old age. What if he knew his time was coming, but still had stories to tell? What if he didn’t want to stop? Alvin says how his dust was sprinkled on a hammer and buried in the earth, and that this is considered the appropriate monster cultural ritual for helping a soul pass to the afterlife. But Alvin also appears to have done something that is still really troubling him. Maybe Alvin, either at his father's request or based on his own wants, didn’t actually follow the appropriate cultural funeral rites, and somehow helped his father’s soul attach to a different beloved object…a fountain pen that he’d use to write down his story ideas. And if that object gets brought to life with a dark fountain, you could get the Knight: the soul of a writer, filtered exclusively through their favorite writing tool, unwilling to stop creating.

I think it would make sense on a few logical and thematic levels:

It explains how the Knight is able to get around and open the fountains: the same way that Ralsei is able to do the weird things he does. They’re both Darkners carrying Lightner souls, so they can bend the rules.

It explains Queen’s insistence that Lightners are the ones that can create fountains, while King hates Lightners but seems to fully trust the Knight…a Darkner with a Lightner soul can meet both those people's expectations.  

It sets up the Knight as a foil to Ralsei: they’re both the same kind of special Dark World being, both believing that they are fulfilling their roles and serving the Lightners, but coming to vastly different conclusions about how to do that. 

It explains the Knight’s motivations: not that he’s actually trying to destroy the world or anything, but that he’s trying to serve the Lightners. He knows very well how much joy and positivity his fiction has brought to Lightners in the past. How could more of that be anything bad? This is his purpose, what he was made to do. Not doing it is virtually unthinkable.

And I think that in turn keeps him following in the footsteps of how Toby usually writes his villains…rarely if ever fully malicious, but utterly convinced that they’re doing the right thing, or that they have no choice in the matter. 

And of course that ties in with one of Deltarune’s themes: the balance between reality and fantasy. The Knight has no more ties with reality, and therefore is focused exclusively on creating more fantasy and having it supplant reality, upsetting the balance between them. 

And this is extremely speculative, but I've been thinking about how Toby mentioned that chapter three will be a bit of an odd one out, that it's more about trying weird things than advancing a lot of plot. Kind of an interesting thing to note since Kris just made a fountain that should take us into chapter three. If the Dark Worlds are in some way shaped by the will of the Lightner that makes them, then chapter three indicates that Kris's will manifests more as just...trying out stuff rather than something purposeful. Kris makes a fountain because they really want to keep up this special hangout with their friends. But the Knight? He's making narratives.

[catfern]

salt.

pairing: cowboy!ellie williams x afab!reader (she/her pronouns used)

music: california love - 2pac etc. OR devil wears a suit and tie - colter wall (tysm angel @lissanovak)

word count: 1.7k

summary: ellie takes good money where she can get it. turns out there's a desperate runaway who will stop at nothing to fill her coin purse. well, and run away.

warnings: blood, gun use, minor injury, slight ageism towards joel, bounty hunter!ellie kinda, outlaw behaviour forrealsies

an: the start of cowboy!ellie and reader's love story <3 how i met ur mother actually. yk when u write a word so much and it doesn't look real anymore thats how i feel abt the word flower.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“is the money good?”

her eyes trace the faded ink that paints your jawline. her fingers itch in her gloves, tapping along the flimsy paper. she shifts quickly, cigarette smoke swirling and fading in the air, a sweet smell.

your father was a desperate, desperate man.

‘please, please, bring her back to me.’

‘my sweet child, my only child.’

honestly, ellie wasn’t paying much attention to the blubbering until the mention of a payout.

the drag was long, smoke settling her stomach, and spilling out from her lips in a rasp of a laugh, “yeah, it’s real good.”

this was clearly your first time running from home.

your name on her lips, nearly everyone she met was itching to tell ellie what they had seen, for a stray coin or two. you weren’t exactly quiet, rushing off with kicked up dust and curses rolling off your tongue. the easiest money they’ve ever made, joel jokes.

ellie had your photograph in her pocket, the one your father gave her. it had felt almost unlawful  to take it, your smile too intimate, your laugh too familiar. you wore the ornaments of high society, silks and velvets finding their comfort in the contours of your body, but your look was something unknown, untamed, something scarcely to be found. it was something that she deemed herself unworthy of. a sick perversion it was, to look at a capturing of you and imagine something more. she swallowed it.

“y’seen her or not?”

His eyes lingered a fraction longer on your face, the ghost of his breath circling the rim of his glass, sinking into the beer at the bottom. ellie dug her fingernails into her palms. she hated this man.

“maybe. y’got something f’me?”

“how much?”

“twenty.”

jesus. 

“ th’s higher than last time, butch.” joel’s calm, albeit tired. the rasp in his throat echoes into the jovial sounds of the saloon. the old crook chuckles, sags of skin rising and falling with his molasses, gap-toothed smile.

“business is business, old friend. consider it a family discount, jus’ for you two.”

ellie makes sure joel feels the fire of her gaze as he counts out the bills. there’s little comfort in knowing the reward is sweeter, as she watches half their year’s savings slide across the table. 

“a friend of a friend seen her in valentine. in that pretty dress too.”

her breath rots in her throat, palms itching as she takes back the photo, settles it back in her pocket. joel leads her out with a dishonest smile.

“easiest money we ever made.” it’s a mocking closing statement, before the heavy breath of horses fills a dripping silence.

you’re not far from a fallen angel, when ellie spots you. completely separate from the delicacy of your photo, now, you’re wild. your hair looks softer, less abused with pomade and twists to make stiff curls, capturing the sun and shining it like fragmented glass. a warmer, kinder glow falls on the dust of your skin, your rich silks abandoned for something looser, free. she feels a tragedy nick at her head when joel doesn’t hesitate,

“miss,” he stops you on the step of the general store, your grocery basket swinging from your arm, change echoing in the pocket of your skirt, “we’re friends of your father’s. he’s asked us t’bring you on home now.”

you weren’t smiling before, but something fell on your face that made you hard to describe. something echoes and ellie can almost watch the moment everything clicks.

“damn!-ellie!”

apples roll down the steps, abandoned. joel is old, and slow. ellie isn’t.

she’s on you before you can even breathe a getaway, her hands a rough burn against your skin as she pins you, cheek flush against the wood paneling of the store. softness forsaken, your breath is heavy, a monster slipping from your lips as you kick and bleed,

“i won’t go back-y’can’t make me! bastard!”

the blade is cold fire, foreign on your neck, “trust me flower. we can go easy,” pressure. “or hard,”

the silence between you deepens, your breath swirling together as the heat from her chest ripples on your back. this isn’t how ellie thought you’d be.

“how the fuck did you think that was gonna go, joel? ‘oh, you’re my daddy’s friends? why, of course, let me go and pack my beloved valuables and we can ride home together while i sing a tisket, a tasket for your enjoyment.’”

your voice is a rough, searing anger, as it echoes from where you’re bent over on ellie’s horse, hands tied behind your back, “cunt.”

“that ain't a very ladylike mouth you got there, darlin’.”

your father is wringing his clammy little hands on the front porch when joel and ellie’s horses are spied up the road. working himself up, he runs to meet you with a blabber of words. joel lifts you gently, much kinder than he was back in valentine, and cuts the sandpaper ropes from your wrists. your mother appears with a scowl,

“come on then. you need a bath, you’re filthy.”

it’s a walk of shame back down the road to your eyesore of a prairie home. the money feels sickeningly heavy in ellie’s hands as she watches you.

oh, she’s home. home, home, home. your father mutters in relief.

it doesn’t last long.

the second time is almost as painful as the first. tears stain the suede of joel’s jacket, a manic grip as the older man wailed and cried,

“she’s gone, again, again! please!”

they found you wandering a mountain pass, the sand of the red desert rock smeared across your cheek and dusted in your hair. you’d stolen a pony of your father’s, skittish and small, ellie almost laughed.

but fuck, you were learning to put up a good fight. even had a knife on you this time, smart girl.

but your dumb horse didn’t fight much, flying off at the first sound of a gunshot, throwing you violently into the dirt, winded and dazed. ellie shaded you from the beating sun with shit-eating grin, “howdy stranger.”

your voice is a coughing fit, “fuc-k you.”

by the fourth time, they started taking payments up front. the fifth time, your mother delivered the news, your father too bed-ridden with worry to see through the mess of tears and snot.

“back so soon, friend?” it’s mean to be a laugh, but it’s a rasp, dying wind scratching at his throat as his brow furrows.

ellie’s not interested in his dance, counting out the money and running it along the bumps of the scarred bar table, “same girl, y’seen her?”

he tuts, his voice high and mighty and too drunkenly happy, “dunno. think i forgot what i’m lookin’ for. might need t’see that photo again.”

“watch it.”

the silver of her hunting knife twinkles like a star in the warm light, the point slowly digging an edge into the aging wood. he shrinks and wisps the money up before it disappears, “last i heard she hitched a train up north. all i know, i swear.”

“always a pleasure, butch.”

the glow of your dying campfire wasn’t an easy beacon to follow from below the cliff face, smoke easing off the edge and falling into the moonlight. ellie eased her horse quietly up the incline, her eyes trailing your silhouette against the amber coals. a horse was tied to the tree you were camping under, not yours.

didn’t take you long to settle into the wild.

you were a completely different creature, something unknowable. ellie rounds the thicket on her feet, watching you. your eyes melt with the starlight, windswept and sweet in the air of the hills. you belong here.

fortunately, god makes it clear that ellie does not. the crack of the stick calls and echoes off the distance mountains, and, fuck, when did you get a revolver?

her hands are up as she steps out, cursing under her breath as her pants snag in the bush.

“you even know how to use that, sweetheart?”

your thumb clicks the safety, it echoes in the silence,

“i know well enough.”

“and what?” it’s teasing, and at some point, as ellie ponders her life down the barrel of a gun, your gun, she wonders if maybe, it’s not the right time. fuck it, “you gonna shoot me, flower? you gonna try?”

“i ain’t going back to that house, ellie.”

however tense, and full of pure hatred, her name on your lips is something god-given. she fights to revel in it.

“clearly.”

ellie steps, hoping to bridge the distance between you with something kind, something deserving of you. you panic.

blood. warm and sticky, seeping through the scratchy fabric of her shirt, the burn spreading through her body like a parasite. her hand flies to her arm, “you fucking shot me?’

had you seen blood before? had you shot someone before? your aim wasn’t guided by god, but fuck, you didn’t exactly expect it to hit her, and ellie knows.

“you’re th’one who fucking came at me!”

“i was walking!”

the ride home was horribly reminiscent of the first time you met. except, somehow, the ropes were tighter, and ellie had two guns in her saddle bag.

your mother scrubs the dried blood from your side in a cold bath, muttering about the witching hour.

you wait a few nights in restlessness, listening to your parents argue about your disobedience, before packing yet another satchel.

the outline of her jaw was lit by a dying cigarette, the soft scratch of her boots on the dirt echoing in the cicada rhythm of midnight. you watch her carefully as you drop from your window, wishing you had grabbed the shotgun this time.

“what? you hoping to cash in without actually doing any work?” 

she’s quiet, leaning against your back picket fence. flicking her cigarette down, it briefly lights the white tourniquet splitting her bicep.

“i’m real sorry about that.” it’s quiet, remorse.

she tuts, without care, “just a graze. y’have terrible aim.”

she’s watching you, enforcing a silence between you as she studies you, almost unsure. 

a sharp whistle bounces off a distant hill. you can vaguely make out the glow of a lantern, and joel.

ellie sighs, heavy, defeated.

“get your shit. don’t expect me t’carry it.”

[bingeeaterblog]

// small warning big re touken hate it's a post on why I hate it and how I think it could've been done better BUT I encourage you to keep reading if you do like them and to give me your thoughts whether to tell me why you like them or why you think im wrong in some regards i love a good debate its why i joined Tumblr

I'm gonna start this off by talking about why I loved the original mangas touken.

They start off as strangers, them only having a REAL meeting when she saves his ass from nishio. Initially she was cold and rude, for every reason he was very disrespectful(also for good reason he was scared and all he knew about ghouls is that they are monsters who hurt people, one literally just had him in a choke hold) but I digress. Kaneki starts working at anteiku and he's shadowing touka much to her dismay she feels he can't do anything right and is just a know it all human.

Right off the bat they have a very interesting dynamic, touka learning to care for kaneki him starting to see her(and ghouls as a whole) as a person and not something he should be afraid of.

As time goes on, touka falls for him, it's what makes everything so hard when he abandons her. She feels betrayed he left just like ayato and her dad did no one ever stays for her? How could they? She makes herself so hard to love shutting everyone out. She blames herself partly, not being able to protect him from whatever happened at the aoigiri base.

When she does see him again she's angry! How dare he come back after all this! Why can't he just make up his mind! So she lashes out, she misses him so dearly but she can't tell him that? Let him know she cares? She hits him and tells him to never come back to anteiku (to her).

You can see why it's so appealing!! The angst!! The drama!!! They have it all! Toukas longing and kanekis isolation are what makes them so GOOD.

To explain why I don't like re touken we have to talk about why I don't like re touka.

Touka before was a very well rounded character, she was brash and a little impulsive, she loves the people around her even if its hard for her to show it in a healthy way. She'll do whatever it takes even if it means risking her own life.

Re touka, doesn't really have that. She's very... Water downed. I like to call it house house wife-ification. She's lost any semblance of her old personality. While I do like the idea of touka calming down and becoming more docile it's not done right, we meet her again and she's just... Like that? There's no character development of her changing it just happens! She's shaved down so she can be the perfect love interest for kaneki, it's even shown in her design! Her eyes are softer and she doesn't hold any of the same energy as old touka(this happens with a lot of female characters ishida just ended up giving them all the same face besides eto).

Kaneki is? Fine? I loved haise as a character and him and touka were sorta cute if u kinda ignore that fact touka isn't touka. Kaneki was fine and re and that's it, he's just okay. His Savior complex is removed and it's just "I wanna save people!!" The whole reason his savior complex is important is BECAUSE it ends up hurting more people he should've been developed to learn how to manage that and be the hero he could be.

Now for their actual relationship.

It's very.... Rushed? There's no tension no build up just "are you a virgin?" Which in my opinion is something touka would never say she'd stumble around it. they made her bold at the wrong times she's an awkward lil freak. And then boom! Sex yeah! And it's? Okay? It's not my favorite I felt like a sex scene between them should've been more desperate!! That's when the marriage bite should've happened! It should've bites and messy kisses and promises to never leave again! There was no passion! There was the "why are you crying" but that didn't really do anything for me!!

I do like the end scene where she was petting his hair that was very soft which is what he needs.

Then toukas pregnant!(Which is something I'll get into good another time) And it kinda feels like they only rush into the marriage because she is... Like I feel like they should've atleast had a dating stage y'know!! Everything just felt so fast with them and nothing like the original:(

The end credits scene feels nothing like touka, she looks dead that's not the character I used to know :( kaneki too only the scene with hide felt real

And yeah! I like ichika! But how cool would it have been if touka got pregnant AFTER re and in the end credit thing she was revealed! Another natural born one eyed ghoul!! Idk...

This is very messy sorry I had to get this out. if you like them? That's fine!! That's super duper cool its just not my favorite. Tell me why you think I'm wrong! Id love to hear your opinions

[tsibeyantiger]

I had the inconvenience to read a post where it said that percabeth was a bad ship because they don't seem to LIKE each other and I'm like??????????? How can anybody not get THAT? Like seriously, think about it for just a minute.

Imagine you are Annabeth. Your family pretty much abandoned you. Your newfound sister died so you could make it out alive. When you were just seven years old. It is hard for you to trust anyone because you keep on losing who matters to you. And you know about the prophecy and that you won't leave camp until the kid from the prophecy shows up (if Chiron hasn't said that, I'm sure Annabeth was able to connect the dots). The kid who's gonna die when he turns 16 to save Olympus OR destroy it. So you're NOT supposed to like him, even though you know your pathes will cross. You expect him to be a son of Zeus, which would be fine. You can be his deputy in battle, just as your mom is Zeus', and when he dies, it's gonna be "Farewell, my lord, it was an honour to fight under your command". Not very delightful, but you are used to worse.

Then Percy shows up. And he is a son of POSEIDON. Not at all what you expected, yet it's your destiny to interact somehow with him. What if he turns out evil? What if you're the one who HELPS him destroy Olympus? Okay, no, no, no, stop. You are NOT SUPPOSED to like him AT ALL. But- he is kinda charming. Not the arrogant, wrath filled rowdy you'd expect. A troublemaker, yes, but he's trying to be nice to everyone, always roots for the underdogs, doesn't care about your parents' rivalry and is incredibly skilled yet totally unaware of it. You go on the quest. You safe the world. And you realise he is kind and brave and just and will never turn evil. This is the hero who will die while defending Olympus. And you're the fool who couldn't avoid falling in love with him.

Fast forward. Percy keeps on doing annoyingly cute and noble stuff you wish you never saw because it makes you like him even more. The photo. Tyson (you don't like him, but it IS wholesome that Percy chose to be his friend when no one else was). The moment he gave Clarisse the fleece. Then you get kidnapped and he travels across the whole country to save you, even lifts the sky for you. And then he says he chooses the prophecy and you give up all hope (you've spend hours and hours thinking whether you'd want Thalia to die or Percy, and you feel so guilty for it). He doesn't even know the full meaning, but you are just sure he'd make the same choice if he knew it means death, all to protect a little boy he hardly knows.

And you're like: Fuck this. Too late to run from your feelings. You're already in love. Your heart's gonna be broken anyways. So, you decide to try your luck. If you're gonna miss him for a lifetime, it shall be worth it. And THEN, suddenly, Rachel shows up. Like, this is no average teenage love triangle drama bullshit. OF COURSE, Annabeth explodes like a volcano. Any of us would.

Meanwhile, Percy doesn't know shit and is just hella confused. He doesn't know the content of the prophecy, doesn't know much about Greek mythology and whenever he does, he doesn't care. He just gets the impression that Annabeth hates him, yet somehow seeks his company. Percy has close to zero confidence, due to him also being often abandoned and ending up as a failure and an outsider, so it's probably the second part that's harder to understand, but he tries to make the best of it. He is kind and patient, offers Annabeth his friendship and ultimately, she accepts. Not for a second he'd imagine she might be in love with him, Because This Is Not How People Behave. From his perspective, Annabeth tends to act like a bitch out of nowhere, sometimes she pushes him away, sometimes she wants him to come closer. He accepts this somehow, but of course he gets frustrated sometimes. Who wouldn't?

But still he never even thinks about going low contact. He never questions their friendship, he always wants Annabeth as close as possible. And people say they don't LIKE each other? Please!

[fishbloc]

*Dr. Eggman voice* I miss you, Fishbloc, I miss you a lot. I'll be back (but seriously, I do miss you and your art!! I hope you're doing well and take care! <3)

wait this is so sweet 🥺

for my absence, i've been offline as usual (no surprise there). i tried to watch a bit of wild life but i keep forgetting oops. mcyt is a bit on the backburner lately. i have been more inclined recently to engage in the characters within my own verses and worlds, and also with friends.

but truthfully most of my time lately has been spent trying to live life in a less miserable way 👍 trying to reconnect with my old friends, trying to spend more time with current online friends. its probably not as holy as it sounds, and a lot of days are still spent quite aimlessly.

i dont draw as much as i like, but i don't hate myself for it! and the few art i do these days are just for other fandoms that doesn't fit this blog in particular haha (i have so many sideblogs...) that's why it seems like ive gone too quiet here. i've always been into various video games even before mcyt so i've just kinda revisited them.

that doesn't mean my life still doesn't have its really depressing miserable days, it still does. but im actively working towards in trying to view my life differently, even if only for a little bit.

i've talked a lot to a few people on regarding whether or not i want to let go of fishbloc, but i think ultimately that will always be an indefinite decision because im so sentimental towards this account and the people i've come to meet from here. besides! i am working on a few personal projects (sorry they have no set schedule oops) and a zine! so fishbloc as a whole can't be abandoned just yet.

for what its worth, i think mcyt will always be a core part of my life now, and it always was a subject i like drawing about due to the creative freedom it gave me unlike other fandoms and media. i just hope no one forgets me as i kinda hibernate right now, i'm still here.

and seeing this really helps me feel better for the uncertain times in my life that are coming. <3

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

(SAMS related)

Hey so maybe this is a stupid question, but I'm curious to hear your opinion....

What do you think they're doing with BloodMoon? On the one hand they're acknowledging how BloodMoons known nothing but hate and being used, which makes me sympathetic and seems to indicate a direction of change/redemption. But on the other hand, its FUCKING BLOODMOON. Hes garnered hate because hes an insane psychopath that has admitted that they enjoy the killing and dont see it as a curse. That's not someone you leave loose or free. It seems that solution is to kill them again, but that also seems like a waste cuz they JUST came back and now have a custom VR model.

I dunno, I'm sorry for rambling, I just want to hear what others think. Cuz to me they're giving us plenty of reasons and tidbits to want a BloodMoon redemption of some sort, but BloodMoon has seemed to make it very clear that they dont want to stop being the bloodthirsty killing machine and have "killed" and/or burned bridges with the individuals who would have TRIED to accept them. So I'm confused on how to feel and what to think....

I don't know honestly.

On one hand, they point out constantly BloodMoon's abandonment issues and him being constantly used as a tool.

While I am disappointed with how KC's death was handled, I do agree that he needed to be fridged by Bloodmoon in this case. (I just wish the circumstances aligned so KC didn't antagonize him for no reason and didn't throw his life away for no reason. And due to his inaction caused many more homeless people to possibly die, and now it seems like he was just feeding the homeless for clout on tinder and not genuinely care about these people.... I honestly find the stupid easy jabs at the homeless in the sams series kinda gross and while it has been toned down I still wish it would stop all together...)

And what I really think will happen, Bloodmoon wants to be fixed... but since his introduction... Bloodmoon (well, the old Bloodmoon, not the Bloodmoon based on Ruin's SAMS wiki lore... cause remember. This is Bloodmoon 2.0 with not all his memories in tact.)

He did seem to lament that he had these bloody cravings.

Yeah. I haven't forgotten this episode. Released on the Day of the actual Blood Moon.

(I kinda miss when they used to talk with their hands to convey which twin was which)

It was the first time we as a fanbase realized that his urge to kill is more of an addiction and he has said as much a few times.

And retrospectively, looking back on this episode, (cus at this point I didn't care about bloodmoon back then. It always takes me a bit to warm up to a new SAMS character) Bloodmoon is exceedingly lonely.

He has himself. But that's all. no one will ever really get him or understand him. And I think there's a great lament with that. Being unable to be understood from anyone outside of your twin or 'other'. Yeah, you have eachother, but no one else.

I'm wondering if Bloodmoon 2.0 has this episode in his memories. As he seems to be determined to rip and tear and kill.

My working theory right now is that Nice Eclipse WILL fix Bloodmoon as he wants..... but he'll also fix his cravings.

The best case scenario is that Bloodmoon will only crave shades of red.... and rare steaks....

or... this might cause complications in the duality of their nature, and maybe one of the twins might get broken, with the other needing to be alone for the first time since they woke up.

I don't know. I really think Nice Eclipse will pull through... and give Bloodmoon everything he wants, and more. Because I don't think Eclipse will readily fix Bloodmoon in his entirety and just let a homicidal maniac run loose and terrorizing everyone.

Bloodmoon was the only person Sun felt guilty about, and even Old Moon felt as if Bloodmoon, given enough time and the right circumstances could change.

We also know that Ruin Eclipse is possessed by the Ruin Virus. So he isn't in his right mind, and can easily be redeemed as well. He just needs that virus out of him.

I'm already seeing a lot of parallels with the Eclipse and Lunar takeover. And How Lunar was developing more as a person and strongly learning Eclipse was bad for him and the side of good.

Meanwhile, Bloodmoon is slowly figuring out that he's been used his whole life and he no longer wants to be a weapon for others. The only way he can prevent himself from being a tool in this way, is to not play the game.

Which I think Nice Eclipse is the key.

[silky-silks]

Okay can I talk?

eric belonging to @night-light-artz

Patches @eve-pie

Okay for the image above I was doing a “mock” warrior cat book. I miss the old covers but anyway

I kinda feel my art is…boring. I mean it just feels that way. Sometimes I feel I rush myself to get things done, and to be honest I hate having to rush myself. I look back at my recent post and they just fall FLAT. Flat as in the colors are just boring as heck. Lineart? I don’t really like. Not only that but everything feels so unpolished

My anatomy/details

I hate the fact I miss crucial details of my chat starts or even other people characters. I mean, HAVE YOU SEEN HOW I DONT EVEN ADD SILKY’s ANTLERS 99% of the time? That bothers me. And I see other people add them and I’m just “well damn I’m so lazy I can’t even add antlers on my own fucking character”.

Not to mention the poses. Everything feels so stiff with me. So dang stiff that you may as well call my art wood and use it as a support beam. I hate how I don’t use references for my art. Maybe If I used them more and actually took my time stuff wouldn't look like your average horrific Netflix Original cartoon of some movie.

Backgrounds/minor objects.

Do not get me started. I hate all of them. They look so low effort. I mean, I know I can do better with them! But it seems like I worry about the main characters so much. In fact, I feel the background just falls flat or blends in too much with the characters that it looks. Messy. If I draw a cup, i'll skip over details and it will look awful! Which isnt good, as it shows im lacking severly.

Time

And for time I rush. I feel like I have to literally push things out by day’s end and well…it affects my art. Lately o just been so focus on the hour and time it just makes the art suffer. Even if no one else sees it I do. I love my painted style, but it takes quite some time. And forgive me but I hate just doing sketches to and posting it. I prefer my art to be colored in and all the way. Now im not saying i dont like it when other people sketch. That would be a dick-head move of me.

Some days I fear if I don’t post or read inboxes everyone is going to think I purely abandoned them. I try to focus on my page. but just giving them a sketch at the end well...it makes me feel as if I just dissapointed them. I think to myself and say "I could have done better than that. Why did you even do that in the first place {Name}. "

I have like so much on my agenda and plans and then i realize I can’t do it all in one day. Hell sometimes I just make one day spefically on one subject.

If that day was animation day; I focus on an animatic.

If a certain day is art day and I want to set up my commission page (which is so messy I deleted it) then that’s the settled day. But I feel like I’m going so slow. It's like I am running out of time, and time is just passing by as I look at my clock.

And I'm not blaming anyone it's just my stupid head that makes me feel this way. I know no one is trying to rush me. But head is like "Oh but what if- and why not-". It bothers me. It clouds my vision and i don't realize in reality...no one is saying the things my brain is saying. Sometimes I feel like I'm bothering people when i draw their charcaters so much and tag them. I fear they just say 'Aw great it's this one person again."Sometimes I feel I need to be MORE original. And some days i feel i just need to give up entirely. Some days I think posting everyday will aggervate folks. Sometimes I envy the attention of others, and when I see what they gain or what following I have i look back at myself and say "Well maybe if you did this better than MAYBE you people will be interested in ya". And damn do i slam my head in a wall. Everyone just seems so happy, and yet here I am fretting over if this fucking dog I drew looks remotely interesting. And I just feel it...blends in. Like what is there so special about my art?

MY BLOG

And for this blog, I don't know if I truly have an identity for myself. There's Silky, there is Minty and Syrup, there is Simon and there is Shrimpy. But who do they belong to? What roles do they even serve in this blog? I want them to be my identity. I don't want them being just some sort of character leech. They lack story, they lack purpose, they are thrown in tropes and gag. But what do they relate to? Nothing. Nothing at all. And yeah yeah I know im thinking to DEEP into this. But it's been on my mind so much. And hell call me crazy for talking about them if they are real, but they mean a lot to me. A LOT.

So I tried to make my art interesting here like, i tried referencing images space. I tried adding more anatomy to Snowy since I am tired of doing the usual standing up pose. I even wanted to make the background feel more detailed. I feel a bit better, but I still fear everything is too...eh...bland. Maybe it is just me.

Sorry for the ungodly word of text. I know I shouldn't vent here.

[fictionkinfessions]

augh it's late and i'm feeling sappy and missing people from cannon so here we go.

gerard, there is so much i want to say yet not enough space in here so i will simply continue to scream about the fact i miss you. most of the time i just loop ep111 so i can at least hear you. if i find you again, we need to find an abandoned building to explore because i very much miss doing that. also miss the old mill we used to hang out in as teens.

michael, even though you were like... 10 years older than me, you were a great friend and a good person to hang out with in the archives whenever i found myself in there for whatever reason. i definitely miss helping you with research and archive stuff. i have a somewhat standin for the gold pocket watch you gave me before you left with gertrude, and i hope you managed to hang onto that purple scarf i gave you in return.

jon, i miss your annoyed comments youd throw in when sasha, tim, and i would banter and no i will never forget the fact we got you to join in on the banter many times while you were all in research. as much as you probably think you were some kinda prick, you were actually a good person, even after you became the archive. i wish i could have helped you more in the end.

martin, god the things i could say about you. i hope you know how much i miss your damn tea, i have never been able to find a single person who makes it like you and i'm now convinced you just have magic tea powers. i hated tea until you offered me some in the library one day. changed my damn mind then and there. i do hope you found jon again after everything. and i do miss the way you did your best to take care of everyone.

sasha, i always remembered the original you even after the not-them. you were like the cool aunt mum of the archives and i loved you for it, always checking on everyone, somehow keeping tim in line, never without some sarcastic remark or quick banter to lift the mood even though you were the most responsible out of all of us.

tim, first off i don't remember where you came up with the nickname 'dasher' for me but i still use it around. definitely miss the banter and witt and sarcasm and the 'too cool for these losers' attitude. you were like a second brother to me after gerry died and even though i never got to really explain that to you before the unknowing, i want to thank you for that. for being a big brother figure that i needed at the time.

basira, daisy, melanie, i'm sorry i never got to know you all very well. i know by the time you all joined the archive i wasn't exactly in a good place and was probably a bit harsh and quick to judge, but i'm sure we all would have been friends before everything went to hell.

elias and gertrude i will do this with one go because i know for a fact i pissed both of you off rummaging around the archives and institute since i was a kid and you both never seemed to be able to get rid of me. elias, i know it was jonah and not you that did most of it, but sometimes i wish we met before any of that. maybe we would have been friends even. and gertrude. i don't think i have any words for you that i didn't already say back then. you got my brother and best friend killed and i will never forgive you for that.

at the end of the day though, i miss my brother, i miss the archive folks, imma go listen to tma again and cry!

-marcus keay (non-cannon magnus archive)

x

[aroace-poly-show]

For hw ask game!!

👻 A headcanon about what scares them

🖕 A headcanon relating to anger

🥇 A headcanon about what they’re best at

💔 An angsty headcanon

under cut it is kinda long but TY FOR QUESTIONS YAYYY

fears: okay for an easy trait everyone shares we got the HASHTAG ABANDONMENT ISSUES 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 none of them are exempt. it’s really funny to me tbh. like ruis obvious but nene “if i’m not skilled enough i’ll be abandoned” kusanagi emu “if i’m too much and too persistent and childish i’ll annoy them too much and drive them away” otori tsukasa “i was left alone for much of my childhood but that totally didn’t have any lasting effects on me now :) no having an empty quiet house totally doesn’t bother me nuh uh” tenma

anyway. tsukasa is Stupid and isn’t self aware of it but he’s scared of not reaching the goals he sets for himself. like he’s got his high expectations of what he should be and not being able to do that fucks him up bad. also he doesn’t like silence.

emu is scared of losing things. like even minor things like a pretty bracelet or the pencil she uses the most like she gets Really distressed about it. smth smth she has had so much loss of things she holds so dearly that she holds onto everything she can and even minor loses hurt her

for nene and rui idk tbh. i’m considering fear of the dark for rui but aside from that idk. well i do know one more but that is in the anger section soooo

anger:

i had a thought about main story here but this does say like. headcanon. and not canon. soo. hmmmm. i might add on for nene and tsukasa another time cause i don’t got much rn tbh

emu isn’t the type to get angry very often i think? she likes to make people happy, and her being angry doesn’t achieve that. i mean she gets upset at herself but like outside of that. not a really angry person?

something about rui being scared of being angry. like he does get angry sometimes. he gets upset at how they’ve been treated, nene mostly, but the feeling of being angry is one that he hates bc the last time he was mad at someone (albeit rightfully so) he ruined so so much so he hates feeling angry. hashtag projection

what they’re best at: aside from canon talents ruis really good at video games now, nene is even more stacked it’s insane. but rui only has nene to compare to so he thinks he’s like average at games. emu is good at memorization and really good at arts and crafts stuff. tsukasa is good at sewing.

angsty headcanon: keri you are a masochist you want MORE ANGST????? /silly

anyway tsukasa always gets a little nervous when people are late for stuff cause he gets worried. emu has a few versions of the phoenix wonderland park maps with old attractions she misses and memorabilia from said attractions stored away in a special box ay the wonder stage. nene has had a few times where she had to take breaks from vocaloid tuning bc she gets really jealous she can’t sing and she gets so embarrassed by herself everytime because it’s a literal no sentient software program, how pathetic can she be. rui will sometimes hurt himself doing robot stuff and then leave the wound unattended for a little longer than he should bc he has normal feelings about him deserving to hurt.