#i opened two docs from my friends account too

[utterlyazriel]

this ribbon of blood that ties us together

a/n: i luv ignoring my wips and going feral and emerging from a doc 48 hours with this word count: 6.3k synopsis: Once upon a time, a high-society girl, you were to be wed. Two years on, you live a much different life alongside Arthur Morgan, an outlaw life, despite your squeamishness to blood, killing, and the like. But when the past won't stay buried, you learn just how far you'll go to protect the man you love. hurt/comfort, mutual pining, friends to lovers, period-typical sexism & canon-typical violence

By all accounts, according to Arthur, the two of you should not be friends.

Not that you weren’t lovely company! And nor was it that you couldn’t stand his long, sullen silences, even if he had trouble believing you were enjoying yourself, just sitting by him.

But there was a clear difference between you — one that Arthur felt sorely.

He hadn’t wanted to call you innocent, ‘cos you weren’t the naive type and you weren't stupid neither. But for running with a gang of outlaws? Your hands were remarkably clean.

See, you hadn’t killed a thing, ever: man or beast.

You got squeamish if you were on cooking duty when Pearson was butchering up the latest hunt, eyes hastily averted. You had pouted all day when John tread on a butterfly, even if it was entirely by accident. You passed off darning shirts to Tilly if they were too blood-soaked, nausea evident on your face.

Well, passed off is the wrong wording. More like, tried to sew without looking at your hands til Tilly took pity and offered to switch with you.

You weren't naive, you just didn't like to see things die. Not an awful hill to die on, Arthur had to agree. Neither did he in most cases.

Micah liked to grouse that you were definitely not cut out for gang life—said with a predatory curl of his lip, eyes shining with malicious intent. Probably was dreaming up all those ways to frighten you, or ruin your "innocence", just for the hell of seeing you shriek.

But Micah was a bad man. You knew that.

It’s why Arthur didn’t understand why the hell you tolerated him.

Watching you over the fire, the air bending in the heat, Arthur relents with a sigh. You did much more than tolerate him. If he wasn’t feeling so sour-faced, he probably go as far as to say you liked him, good and proper.

Besides, he could admit he was a better man than Micah; even if only in the faintest of ways.

He killed just as much. He’s beat men to death with his bare hands, blood flying and bones crunching. He doesn’t hesitate to send a bullet into any unlucky bastard getting between him and the next score for the gang.

Arthur knows feeling guilty doesn’t absolve him of nothin’.

At least he helped people too. Stopped when a lonely straggler needed a ride, retrieved stolen bags, and hunted down herbs and flowers. He enjoyed being the good thing riding into town, even if at time it took a hell of a lotta patience.

That was something he had, that Micah did not.

It just wasn’t enough for Arthur to understand why you might care for him.

But Arthur Morgan is not one to look the gift horse in the mouth and so despite how unlikely it should be, the two of you were friends.

It means being greeted in the early morning with a cup of coffee, the cup pressed into his hand before he’s even wiped the sleep from his eyes. You don’t linger, not any longer than you need to make sure he’s not gonna drop the hot mug.

The first time you had offered it, Arthur had been so surprised he had nearly dropped it.

You had laughed, hands darting out to steady the cup, and looked up at him through your lashes. “Hold tight, cowboy. That’s important stuff in there.”

Arthur had wondered then if this was what it was like to be struck by lightning. Each atom of his body fizzed, coming alive with a hum.

He had opened his mouth, then closed it, uncharacteristically flustered by the gesture.

You had laughed again, softer this time. Arthur finally reined himself in and tipped his hat in appreciation—mainly to hide the colour on his cheeks.

“Thank you kindly, miss.”

“You’re very welcome, Mister Morgan.” You had mused, amusement in your smile. Then you departed, other chores calling your name, with nothing more than a smile thrown over your shoulder.

For him, your friendship means finding the little gifts of the world to bring back. He hadn’t thought too much of it before, passing through homesteads and general stores with only fleeting glances.

However, after a week of hand-delivered cups of coffee, Arthur had begun to hunt for something of equal calibre he could give in return.

Several flowers sat in his tent, wilting and drying in the sun, in the grasp of a man too unsure of himself to gift them. He bought sweets, an extra chocolate bar in his satchel, before it was eaten in gnawing worry of what you’d think.

He was a brute. Trying to gift you nice things from his violent hands was downright laughable.

It wasn’t until he found a hair-pin, silver and slender with a delicate flower atop it, did Arthur manage to finally give back. He’d bought it before he could chicken out and once he had it, he thought it would be far stranger to keep it than to gift it.

You liked wearing flowers in your hair. That had been why Arthur picked them for you—but this, you could wear always, without it wilting.

He’d handed it over as you had passed him his morning coffee, pressing it into your palm as nonchalantly as he could manage. Then he hid his smile behind his coffee at your delighted gasp, your joy infectious and unmistakable.

You had thanked him profusely, for the first time not calling him Mister Morgan, but instead Arthur. His name had never sounded sweeter than falling from your lips

And that there… that was the one other, really good reason that you and him shouldn’t be friends.

Because as sure as the sun rose every morning, Arthur Morgan rose with it, undeniably in love with you.

—

You had been engaged once before.

Not by choice—an important distinction you hold fast to. Even if Karen likes to make passing jokes about you being a woman already spoken for, you’re thankful when Abigail quickly shoots her down with a piercing glare.

There is, after all, only one real reason a woman like you ends up on the run.

Rufus Hugo is your particular reason. A man up to his neck in wealth, pilfering the land for oil, and, as last you knew, looking for a fourth wife.

You’d once thought him unlucky, your poor fiancé.

How is it one man can be followed by such tragedy? Three young wives, in the space of a couple years, each found violated and slaughtered in the back alleys of Saint Denis, red smiles cut into their throats.

You’d once been a fool.

The papers and Sheriff had to be under his thumb, considering the blind eye and frilly stories they turned out. The rumours told a different, darker tale — ones that fell on deaf ears, too twisted up in your own plastic assurances.

Your father wouldn’t have organised this if he knew. And— and he couldn’t know, because it simply couldn’t be true.

Rufus treated you like a jewel, plying you with expensive gifts and decadent clothing, more than you’d ever had before.

When the nag in your gut didn’t leave, he had coaxed it out of you — the fear of some maniacal killer, out for the blood of Mister Hugo’s betrothed — and then he assured you with a feline smile of a wolf.

No one’s going to lay a hand on you, treasure. The only man who gets to touch you is me.

Adoring at the time.

Stomach-churning in hindsight.

You’d overheard entirely by accident, a fact that makes your heart skip stutter if you think about it too long.

Pure luck saved your life. Pure chance that you’d overheard them, wandering the halls at one of the many parties held in the honour of your engagement.

His nasty habit revealed to you in a manner of words, floating out the keyhole.

His sickening tone, lusty and humorous at once, you heard him tell the other men at the party how there was nothing better than how tight their cunts had got when he dragged the blade across their jugular.

Your stomach had plummeted. Bile crawled thickly up your throat.

The version of the world you knew contorted painfully, upside down and suddenly all wrong.

And like the vicious pain of stepping into a bear trap, the hinges of it sweeping up with sharpened blades, you knew if you stayed that you would undoubtedly be next.

You ran.

With nothing but the clothes on your back, frenzied like an animal being cornered, you ran. It was thankful you managed any coherent ideas as you tore down the stairs, pushing through the party, uncaring of the cries that followed you — but stealing a horse was probably the only reason you survived.

Though you sparsely knew how to ride it, you rode for two long, hard days before exhaustion caught up.

No amount of distance felt safe enough to slide off your dead-tired horse but you were given no choice. Your stomach ached with the growl of hunger and delirium had begun to creep in from your lack of sleep.

You were parched beyond relief and still in your god forsaken party dress, when you let your horse slow to a stop in a shallow river.

Then you’d fallen off in one spineless lump.

Caught somewhere between physical exhaustion and sleep, the freezing water had been quite the wake-up. More so when you surfaced, spluttering, and there was a man standing before you — muttering something about a strange damn woman.

It was the very first night you laid your eyes upon Arthur Morgan—soon after which, you promptly fainted from exhaustion.

The same night you disappeared from Saint Denis — becoming a ghost before you were doomed to become one at the hands on your to-be husband — you were reinvented in the warmth of a gang on the run.

—

Two years on, you stop wondering if Rufus Hugo still hunts for his fourth bride.

There would have been search parties for you, you’re sure of it. Even if half the party could attest to you fleeing of your own accord, a rich man doesn’t give up his prizes so easily.

But somewhere along the way, you’re not sure when, you stopped looking over your shoulder. You no longer tensed at every new, unfamiliar figure on the horizon, certain it was your past crawling back.

You’re not sure when—but you sure as hell know why.

Sliding off his horse in one fluid motion, Arthur hitches the reins on the post out front the general store with a grunt.

It’s a blazing day in Rhodes, the desert sun overhead. A mirage pools in the distance, along the main road. There’s little wind to cool you, just the buzz of flies around the horses.

It’s just you and Arthur travelling today.

An unnecessary journey for the sake of enjoying each other’s company; under the guise of camp work, of course.

You two are friends. Arthur kept his distance from most gang members, happier on the outside of the circle, which you knew.

It meant that when you got these moments — Arthur inviting you along for a journey to a town, the myriad of gifts he seemed to find for you — you couldn’t help but… hope.

You steal a glance at the cowboy, drinking in his rugged profile. He’s due for a shave, his beard a little longer than you know he prefers, but you gladly enjoy the sight.

Men in the city were groomed and clean-shaven. There’s something much more real about the ruggedness of Arthur’s appearance, his blue eyes flashing your way from beneath his hat. You catch the hint of his smile too.

Watching him subtly, he takes a moment to coo his praise to his mare, Hypatia. She nickers affectionately, searching for a treat that he dotingly gives. His rough voice whispers lowly of how he spoils her, even as he brushes her neck gently.

Sometimes, you really think Arthur likes horses more than he likes people.

It doesn’t bother you—how could it? How could you feel anything but soft-hearted when you see him dote on his horse, all his corners softened?

Besides, you think it’s a good show of character.

You’ve heard how he talks to himself sometimes, self-deprecating mutterings of how he’s a bad man, unworthy of your kindness.

But you’ve met worse men before.

Arthur may have killed, but never senselessly. Never for pleasure.

“I think,” Arthur says, his southern drawl thick. He tips his hat to the general store ahead of you both. “The spices will be second floor.”

Can’t hunt, can’t kill, can’t thieve — but god, can you cook.

It had been nice to have something to bring to the gang, considering your general squeamishness. Arthur decided long ago it was worth heading further south for the better spices closer to the city.

“I gots to pick up some more ammo, but I’ll meet ya in there.” His gaze finds the gun store across the street before tracking back to yours. He checks, “That alright?”

You nod to him, as your own mare butts your shoulder gently, making you laugh.

“Yeah, that’s alright, Arthur.” You affirm, reaching back to give her a pat. The sweet smile you wear is equal parts for her as it is for the cowboy before you.

“See you in a minute,” you say. Arthur nods, boots kicking up the red dirt as he begins to make his way down the main street.

The worn steps of the general store creek underfoot as you make your way up them, already mentally flicking through what you’d wanted to buy.

Salt, oregano, thyme… maybe some cumin, knowing how much Arthur seems to like it. Nodding politely to the shopkeeper, you head for the second story stairs — missing the flash of someone familiar through the window, peering in.

These wooden stairs are far less worn than those outside, but the traces of countless boots are evident all the same. Hand on the railing, you ascend slow, mind wandering off easily.

It’s venison for dinner, if you aren’t mistaken, from the latest hunt Charles brought in. Maybe tonight you’ll make convince Pearson to make the stew your way—spiced heavily and just the way Arthur likes it. (He hasn’t told you that half the reason is because it’s you making it.)

You approach the lined shelves with a hum, eyes dancing from colourful tin to colourful tin. Spotting your first target, a trusty tin of salt, you miss the creek of the floorboards behind you as you reach for it.

“Treasure.”

Your hand falters, fingers outstretched, halted in the place. There’s the unmistakable heat of a body behind you— but even so, the scrape of a knife leaving its sheathe confirms it.

A shuddering exhale forces from your mouth as the knife is suddenly beneath your chin, hovered above your throat. You lock in place, hand still held out. A hurricane of harrowing dread howls through you.

It couldn’t… it couldn’t be him.

No way could he have found you now, after years of your disappearance — no way was he still fucking looking for you.

The well of horror in your chest caves in, growing like a sinkhole, as your mind repeats the same word over and over: no, no, no, no, no.

The blade moves up, the cool edge of it pressing to your chin. You inhale sharply and feel a tremble start to take your body as your face is forcibly turned, pulling your gaze to a sickeningly familiar face.

“My, my,” Rufus croons. “My little bride to-be. Been lookin' for you a long time.”

Your nose wrinkles at the title, one you’d renounced the minute you'd fled, all those months ago. His dark eyes narrow at the motion and travel to your outstretched left hand, eyeing it with a glint.

“No ring.” He tuts, letting the knife fall back against your throat and resting it there.

You snatch your hand back in, hands flying to his arm and pulling with all your might—a fruitless battle against his strength. All it earns you is the sharp edge of the blade pressing further into your skin and you stop moving quickly, another gutted gasp pulled from you.

"Do you even know," He hisses into your ear. "How much goddamn money I spent on you? On trying to track you down?"

The venom in his voice leaks out, replaced by a charismatic purr you're far more familiar with. Once upon a time, it had voiced believable assurances from a man who would happen to be your husband.

Now, it only widens the sinkhole in your chest.

"You've cost me a fortune, treasure. Now I've come to collect what I'm owed."

A finger draws an idle line on your back, creeping forward along the stroke of your waist. Try as you might to suppress it, a shiver skitters through you and your throat presses ever closer to the knife again.

It's enough to pierce the skin, just a sliver, before the finger on your waist turns is joined by four others, clamping tightly.

Your balance wavers as you're forced back, the hard line of his body pressing flush up against you.

Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck are you going to do?

Eyes screwing closed, you force your breath to remain even. You— you have your own revolver but if you move, you don't doubt Rufus has any qualms with painting the shop-floor with your blood.

If he wants you, he'll have to move you- he— he'll have to leave the shop and then, you can try—

A loud clatter sound and your eyes fly open, catching on to what's been dropped — your stomach following suit quickly. Your revolver glints back at you.

"Here's what's going to happen," Rufus begins, as if he's merely discussing the weather. "You and I are gonna—"

His voice drops at the intrusion of noise, a squeak from the stairs behind you. In an instant, you remember the person you're waiting on. Arthur.

A desperate mixture of terror and relief shoves up your throat. It's a warning and a cry for help simultaneously.

When the knife shifts, you have no choice but to shift too, your body and Rufus twisting deftly—his other hand drawing his revolver in an instant, the barrel directed at Arthur. He's already drawn back the hammer.

There's no keeping your breathing even now. Not as you get to watch Arthur's distracted gaze tug upward, seeing the horror seep into his expression. His body becomes deathly still.

You don't come along on jobs for good reason. Even so, you aren't so naive as to think being an outlaw has no risks. You know Arthur has been on the barrel-end of innumerable weapons, that he risks his life on the daily.

You've just never had to see it with your own eyes before.

The scene unfolding before you feels like a honest-to-god nightmare, ripped from the most fearful parts of your mind and thrust into reality.

A slush of hysteria churns within you at the realisation you may very, very well watch Arthur die today. The man who had been the first to hold out his hand, to offer you aid, to pull you from the life you were running to escape.

The one you hold too closely in your heart, in your affections.

The thought triggers something to seize terribly in your heart — and you know suddenly, without doubt, you'll do anything to stop it from happening.

There's a long moment where nobody breathes. You watch as Arthur's sharp eyes dart from the gun, to the knife on your neck, up to your face in rapid succession. You watch his horror bleed into a vengeful fury, one like you've never seen before.

"You don't want to do that."

The words come out so low it's nearly a growl. Arthur's hand moves, drawing back to his holster when Rufus interrupts.

"Uh, uh, uh," He taunts, quickly turning the barrel of the gun to your head. The barrel of it butts against your temple.

Arthur freezes.

"That's right. You're going to drop your revolver."

It's a staggeringly long moment as Arthur wrestles with what to do, his hand still hovering, fingers twitching. Then the knife nudges closer and the single trickle of blood down the column of your neck is enough to have him complying.

It lands with a thud against the floor. It feels like the nail in the coffin.

"Why are you doin' this?"

The revolver in Rufus' hand lolls forward to aim back at Arthur, the motion almost lazy. He smiles.

"She didn't tell you?" His attention switches to you, using his thumb on the knife to stroke along your neck. "Is this who you replaced me with, treasure? He's hardly an upgrade. Hell, he looks—"

The words die off as Rufus' head snaps back to Arthur, his passive grip on his gun changing in an instant.

For one long moment, he studies the outlaw across from you both and then, horribly, you feel the moment he starts to laugh.

"Oh, treasure," He all but coos at you. You see Arthur bristle across the room. "You're precious. Runaway with the outlaws, did you? This day just gets better and better."

He focuses his gaze back on Arthur and lines up his aim, hand steady. "I've seen your wanted posters, Mister Morgan. A fine five thousand to bring you in. My bride and my money all in a day's work."

He grins like the goddamn cat that got the cream, finger adjusting on the trigger.

And even though you know he knows, even though you know you told him, you can't help how your focus snaps to Arthur's reaction. Your stomach swoops in a horrible twist.

Because you can't but wonder if you're worth the trouble. As if you think, that now, as he realises who this man from your past is, he'll relent. He'll hand you over.

Understanding flickers across Arthur's face, the word bride sinking in with a sting. Then, somehow, the lethality rippling from his very being grows, expanding tenfold.

He's downright murderous, looking every bit of the immoral, malevolent man he believes himself to be.

He is never going to hand you over, you realise, the fear dissipating in the air like smoke.

Another one takes its' place. It's a terrible truth; he'll get himself killed trying to save you.

"Best of all?" Rufus hums. "You're wanted dead or alive, Mister Morgan."

He'll kill him.

You act without thinking. Distracted enough, Rufus' strength is beaten as your wrench the arm holding the knife back far enough to bite down into it, hard. Blood springs up beneath your teeth, the hard lines of sinew snapping beneath the force.

Rufus howls in pain. The revolver drops Arthur from its' sights as Rufus shoves against you fiercely, the butt of the gun slamming against your temple in a loud knock. You both hurtle to the ground in a desperate struggle—and all you can think of it the blade in his hand.

It presses forward, aimed for your neck, and you rip your teeth out of his arm, taking a pound of flesh with it. Rufus wails again and the knife surges forward, intended for your heart.

You twist frantically and escape the hold, scampering up and with nothing but pure instinct, your urge the blade into his own chest, pressing with all your weight.

It sinks in with a satisfying, bubbling gurgle. Blood rises quickly to spew from the wound, a river of red spilling out.

He's going to kill him—he's going to kill Arthur. The manic thought has your hands prying the knife out and driving it back in again, over and over, his body making soft squelching as gutted sounds drag from his mouth.

Blood sprays wildly, coating your face and clothes, but you can't stop. You can't stop, he's going to kill Arthur and take you away from him. You can't let it happen— you can't—

Hands pull at your arms and you seize wildly, dropping the knife and thrashing away, but in doing so, Arthur swings into vision.

It's him. He's alive. He's the one touching you. He's speaking, his lips moving, but no words are reaching your ears.

Your chest is heaving, hyperventilation wracking your body. Your ringing ears finally tune back in.

"—alright, you're alright. It's me. He's dead. He's dead. You're okay." Arthur murmurs, almost nonsensically, his hands held out, palms up. He's crouched before you and he barely knows what he's saying, but you're staring at him like a wild animal, drenched in blood.

"It's okay," He says again, desperate to help you in any way he can, blue eyes locked on you. "You're okay."

There's still blood in your mouth from the chunk you've taken out of Rufus' arm and a bright red splatter of it sprayed across your face.

"I—" The word coughs out of you.

Your gaze falls into horror as you take in the body growing cold on the floor next to you. Arthur watches the panic set in as the realisation of what you've done sets in.

"I- I had to, I had to," You begin to babble, terror threaded in your tone. "I had to, he was— he was gonna kill you."

"Hey, hey," Soothing sounds fall from his lips as Arthur shifts forward, reaching for you desperately. You grip his forearms, eyes wide, as if you need to make him understand.

"He was gonna—" Your words are interrupted by your own choking sob, breathing coming too fast. "Arthur, he was gonna kill you, I-I had to."

"I know, I know," Arthur croaks out, his throat thickening as his own realisation dawns. This hadn't been an act of rabid self-defence, as he thought. You had killed Rufus for him.

You, who can't stand the sight of blood, who gets queasy at the butchers, who doesn't like to hunt or kill — but will for him. To protect him. If he wasn't already there, the sheer display of love would send Arthur crumbling to his knees.

But he just moves his hands, his violent hands, to cup your face. The blood smears. "I know, sweetheart."

You’re staring him, your eyes still wide and wild, looking frantically for something in his face. Forgiveness? Absolution?

Arthur will gladly absolve you of this, a crime that was barely a crime at all. Saving his life and your own, at the cost of the life of a killer.

There's blood on your eyelashes and in your hair. Your breathing slows but your bottom lip quivers with a fierceness. In the smallest voice he's ever heard from you, you whisper, "I had to," then crumble.

Arthur's large body cradles yours easily, one hand tucking around your middle and the other shifting to cup the back of your head as you sink into him. Your head tucks away in the crook of his neck, soft sobs spilling out easily now, and something awful aches in Arthur's chest.

"I got you," He repeats, a promise, a goddamn oath he swears to keep. "I got you, you're okay. You didn't do nothin' wrong."

He feels downright evil to move you so soon but his ears prick at some commotion below. Casting his eyes back to dead body, Arthur knows the large pool of blood has made its way through the floorboards. It's only a matter of minutes before the Sheriff will be here.

"Shit." He curses. He strokes a tender hand along your hair, calling gently for your attention.

"We gotta move. People are comin'. Can you walk?"

You dig your face out of his neck, movements sluggish. The exhaustion from the terror has drained you, your eyelids already drooping, limbs heavier.

Arthur makes the call for you.

Hoisting you softly into his hold, he keeps you nestled against his broad chest, arms tucked behind your back and the bend of your knees. He's almost thankful you can't stand, if only so he can feel the puffs of breaths that escape you against his neck, a reminder you're still with him.

Arthur eyes the locked door in the back corner. It'll lead around the back of the general store and out to the street but Hypatia and your own horse were still hitched out the front. Gritting his teeth, he prepares himself for a wild run, hoping the element of surprise is enough.

It will be enough. It has to be enough.

It's with a charging sprint that he makes it down the stairs, his boots slamming against the wooden floorboards. He doesn't pause to take in the shop-keepers aghast reaction, nor the sprinkling shower of red from the ceiling.

He bursts out into the daylight. Eagle eyes scanning the streets, it's clear that, for now, he's ahead of the law.

With less gentleness than he'd prefer, Arthur pushes you up onto Hypatia's saddle, keeping one hand on your waist to keep you upright and on. His other reaches for the reins hitched over the post and he snags them free, quickly doing the same for your horse.

There's a yell down the street, loud and demanding. Arthur doesn't spare a glance, vaulting himself up onto the saddle behind you.

With a hyah! and a loud, practised whistle, Hypatia breaks into a sprint, quickly followed by your own horse.

Two horses tear down main street, hooves thundering, a fearsome and unstoppable silhouette against the western sun.

The townspeople bleat their fear, barely leaping out the way in time as the horses rush by. Dust kicks up a red-dirt storm. Soon, when it settles, gone will be the only proof you were ever there.

Arthur rides.

The weight of you, slumped back in his chest, is less of a comfort than he would like.

He wants to— no, needs to see your eyes, needs to intercept every foul, wicked thought running rabid in your mind. You’re clawing at your soiled conscience, he’s sure of it, trying to tear the new stain on it from you.

Ruined yourself—for him.

A spidering guilt cloys in his chest, darker than ink and sharper than any blade or bullet he’s ever felt before. His chest aches.

Arthur knows he’s a bad man. He just never imagined he might drag you down to his murky depths.

Swallowing heavy, he grips the reins tighter. Leather bites into his palms. He welcomes the punishment.

He feels, more than hears, your sudden shuddering gasp as you come back to yourself. Your exhaustion must have dipped away enough and it’s clear, for a moment, you struggle to place yourself and your surroundings.

The jostle of a horse beneath you is a giveaway but even so, Arthur feels your hand curl across his toned forearm. Your grip is tight, nearly masking the tremble in your fingers. Nearly.

“It’s me,” Arthur assures, raising his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear over the rumble of galloping. “I got you, it’s Arthur.”

The grip on his arm loosens, his works sinking in, and you nod wordlessly. You let him cocoon you in safety, surrounded in his arms.

Unknown to Arthur, the ride is far too reminiscent of the journey you’d taken all those years ago; the long, hard ride with no goal but putting distance between you and where you were running from. Who you were running from.

Except this time, the one you're running from is dead. He’s dead and you killed him.

It’s unclear how far he travels, the sun sitting lower in the sky, a pinkness blooming on the horizon, before Arthur pulls Hypatia into a slower trot.

You hadn't been followed out of Rhodes, he knows, but he’d still taken you as far as he could, likely further than necessary.

But now, out of physical danger, his priority switches on a dime, all of his senses zoned in to you before him. You, still wordless, still vacant, still painted in a glaze of scarlet.

The decision come easy, Arthur using his keen skills to trot towards the sound of water. A thorough check ensures you'll have no company and Arthur wastes no time, tugging the reins to a halt with a quiet click. He dismounts, large hands reaching for you before his boots even hit the dirt.

You’re willing, your hands seeking him, finding his shoulders and allowing him to help you off Hypatia. There’s a dulled look in your eyes and Arthur knows he will do anything—anything— to change that.

Feet on the ground, you’re level with his chest and you blink slowly, staring forward.

For a moment, Arthur waits, his brows drawn together in his concern. He gives you the moment. If you need to cry, to scream, to blame him — he'll take it, weather whatever storm you have brewing within you.

But you only drag yours eyes up to meet his, voice still small, "I got blood on you."

Another fracture in his chest, another ache of misery. Arthur sighs, gaze softening immeasurably, his hand coming up to cup your cheek tenderly. The blood smears beneath his touch.

"That's alrigh', sweetheart." He murmurs, sweet as he can. He tilts his head slightly, towards the lazy, roving river, blue eyes never leaving you. “Will ya let me clean yer up? In the river?”

You seem to just notice the riverbank you’re standing upon, head twisting to peer at the roaming water of the river.

A nod, minuscule and unnoticeable, if he wasn’t tuned into your every movement.

His hand on your face shifts, reaching down to tangle with your own. It's an anchor in unsteady seas, solid and unflinching.

Your eyes take in your hands, intertwined, and trail up to his face — and you know, with a sudden burning intensity, you can't regret what you've done today.

Not if it means having him. Not if it means saving him.

Arthur leads you down to the water, slow and steady. You follow, hand clutching his tightly, like a devoted follower who trails a messiah, your salvation ahead.

Stopping only to remove your boots and his own, along with his hat, Arthur bites back his hiss at the chill of the water as he wades his way in, fully clothed. The water licks up his calves, thighs, rushing around the sudden intrusion. When it reaches above his waist, he pauses, letting you catch up.

The sun kisses the horizon in the distance, a mellow and amber light cast far across the landscape. Strange how much had happened, had changed, in a manner of hours.

Crickets chorus. In the nearby trees, an owl hoots a soft lullaby.

Arthur doesn't let go of your hand. With the other, he brushes it across the surface of the river and then reaches in, letting it pool into his palm. He brings it your face and lets its run across your hairline, loosening the blood that's crusted there.

It's a slow, dedicated process.

Hands, scarred and calloused, pass over your skin the softest of touches. His thumb works gently at your hair, washing the blood away into the river. You close your eyes when he asks you to, in a low murmur, and the cake of sin is cleaned from you in the most tender of motions.

"Will I ever be clean again?"

A whispered question, eyes still closed. The blood may be leaving but you can still feel it spraying across your face, hot and thick. It's sunk in, you're sure of it—evidence of your crime just an inch beneath your flesh.

"You are not unclean." Arthur grunts, his hand still moving as he speaks. His thumb passes over your jaw. "This— what you did, it don't dirty these hands, you hear me? You did what you needed to do. You did nothin' wrong."

The assurances feel heady and heavy and you want to shake them off. You're not yet sure if you deserve them.

"I'm not mad he's dead." You say. He has to know this.

"I'm not mad I—" Your voice wavers terribly, even if your mind is set. "—killed him."

Eyes fluttering open, you gaze up at Arthur, reverent and resolute. "I... I would do it again, Arthur."

The for you is unspoken.

But if he looks, if he peers between the lines, you know Arthur would find it, beside the I love you hidden within your earnest words.

It's barely a secret—not when you want him to see it. You've been torn open today, a festering wound split down your middle, and somehow nothing feels more crucial than him knowing.

Him knowing and loving you still, seeing you unchanged, despite it all.

The water rushes around you, carrying your transgressions away, and his hand in yours, dwarfing it, does not falter. Arthur's eyes graze across your face. He seems to find what he's searching for.

"You won't ever have to, sweetheart." He says, voice nearly a whisper.

His lips find your hairline, scraping a delicate kiss against the clean skin there. Then he presses his forehead against yours, soothing and intimate, a lifeline. An understanding and a reciprocation.

A sudden urge possesses you, the words clawing up your throat in a frenzy.

You need to tell him, need to say the words aloud and make him understand, as you had on that shop floor.

What if he doesn't know?

His forehead shifts against yours, the tips of your noses nudging together, your interwoven hands grasping each other just as tightly as the other. A warmth rises in your chest, glowing and fizzling, and despite the day, your lips twitch with the hint of a smile.

He knows.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Under the Stars || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Anon request from my old blog: "can i ask a tinnyyy request like you know s7 e8 daryl runs off from negans with jesus to hilltop later ricks group comes. How about reader and daryl reuniting after them not seeing eachother since negan takes him hostage and like all the time they spent away from each other in pain they try to make up for it"

Summary: Your mental health severely declined when Daryl was taken, but now he's back, and it's time to begin to heal together.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: depression, prescription medication, general unhappiness, but a happy ending (oh, and profanity, duh)

        You had barely taken care of yourself over these last weeks. Minimal food intake, drinking water only when your body painfully begged for hydration, unable to get out of bed to even bathe on most days as the painful sinking in your gut was just too much. You felt dizzy sometimes, either from malnourishment or grief. Two of your friends were murdered in cold blood, horrifically. You still remembered how it felt when Abraham's blood splattered over your face, warm in contrast to the chill of the air around you. You could remember the way your breath made foggy little clouds in the  bright lights, how you felt every ounce of air leave your lungs when Glenn was taken out next. 

        That man -- that monster -- he took more than just your friends. He took your sanity. You didn't sleep because when you closed your eyes it was all you could see. You hummed to yourself for hours because in the silence, you could still hear the whistle of the bat as it was brought down on your family members and the squelching of mangled skulls as he turned them into mere pulp. 

        With all that, the thing that stung even more was the memory of him being dragged away, your best friend, your love. The toughest and strongest man you knew, the one with a dirty abrasive exterior and a sparkling core of gold. They took him away, just like that. You knew he was alive. They brought him once, just to flaunt him in your face and remind you of what they had taken from you. To show you just how miserable they were making him.

        On this day, though, Rick and the others had dragged you out of bed. Michonne sat with you while you showered, and washed your hair for you while you sat curled up under the steamy stream of water. She helped you get dressed, and told you they were taking you with them to Hilltop to see Harlan, their doctor. He would be able to give you a mild antidepressant, and something to help you sleep again. They had other business at the colony, but they decided you'd benefit from tagging along.

        You were reluctant, of course. Why did you deserve peace and rest if nobody you loved could attain the same? But, they insisted, and who were you to  argue when they already had more pressing matters at hand. You all did. 

        "This is setraline, or more commonly known as Zoloft. It can be used for anxiety and depression, and it isn't known to have many side effects. I'm going to give you a 30 day supply. Just take one every morning with breakfast, and it should help you break out of this funk." Harlan explained, handing you a pill bottle. "It wont take away the grief, but it will help balance some of the symptoms of it until you can cope on your own."

        "This one," he continued, handing you a little baggie with ten pills. "Is a basic valium. Take it every night with a snack, you'll get your sleep schedule back on track by the time you run out of them."

        He offered you a thin lipped smile as you stuffed the medications in your bag.

        "Thanks, Doc." You sighed as you stood up. He held the door open and allowed you to exit the medical trailer before himself, shutting the door behind him.

        "Don't thank me just  yet. I want to see you again in 30 days. We can assess how it worked for you and then maybe you can thank me."

        The others were all gathered nearby the gates, talking with Maggie and some others. You made your way over. Michonne smiled kindly as she placed an arm over your shoulders.

        "Was he able to help?" Rick asked. You nodded.

        "We'll see in 30 days." You told them. The conversation resumed where it left off, and you kind of just absentmindedly stood by, allowing little bits of information to register here and there but not enough to follow.

        That was when the gates opened and Jesus walked in, followed by someone you didn't expect in the slightest. Your eyes were dry and wide, throat tight, heart racing out of your chest. Rick was the first to hug him, then Michonne, then Maggie, who he seemed  shocked to see. 

        His eyes landed on you and time stopped. The world simply stopped spinning. He stepped toward you slowly, each crash of his boot into the dirt sounding off like bombs. Tears pooled in your eyes when you could finally reach him hear him, smell him.

        "Daryl." You choked.

        He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. The way he embraced you and lifted your feet from the ground, squeezing the air out of you was enough. When he set you back down he planted a kiss on your forehead, lingering there as he breathed you in.

----

        The stars had never looked so bright than they did when you were underneath them with Daryl that night. You stayed at Hilltop with him, and instead of enjoying a bed and warm sheets, you both laid on the ground outside Barrington House, breathing easily for the first time since he had been taken.

        "How'd you get out?" You wondered.

        "Nah. Don't gotta talk 'bout that right now." He said softly, sneaking an arm under you to pull you into him. You rested your head on his chest and he ran his fingers though your hair. 

        "Okay." You whispered. "I missed you."

        "Yeah." He agreed. "Me too. I missed ya."

        "I haven't been able to sleep without you."

        "Mm." He nodded, fingers still twirling in your strands.

        "Can you talk? About anything? I missed your voice."

        "Well," he sucked in a breath, searching for something worth telling you. "Every minute I spent away from you just felt longer and longer, ya know? 'N' now that I got ya back I don't wanna think about none of it. Don't wanna think 'bout the fightin' that's comin'.. Just wanna be here. With you."

        You sniffled and blinked back tears as you nuzzled closer to him, wishing he could just absorb you into his very being so that you'd never be apart.

        You peeked up at him through your eyelashes and he looked down at you, pressing a scratchy kiss on the top of your head.

        "I thought about you every minute of every day." You admitted.

        "I know." He said softly.

        "I just.." You sighed. "I'm just so happy to be here with you. It feels like a dream."

        "It ain't."

        "But it feels like one." You countered. "Just so unreal."

        "It's real." He affirmed.

        "I know." 

        "Good."

        "Do you wanna sleep inside tonight?" You asked.

        "Nah. Too closed up."

        "Okay." You smiled. You snaked an arm over his torso, holding him tightly. He returned the gesture, using dropping his hand from your hair down to your back and pushing you against him. You laid a leg over his.

        "Ya been eatin'?" He asked suddenly, running his fingers over your ribcage.

        "No." You admitted quietly.

        "Gon' eat breakfast tomorrow." He instructed.

        "I have to anyways. Harlan said I have to take my meds with food."

        "Meds? For what?"

        "Depression." You huffed, sitting up and reaching into your bag to show him the pills. "Zoloft and some kind of valium."

        "Pfft." He scoffed, taking the pills from you and setting them on top of his own bag as he pulled you back down. You settled back into your previous position. "Don't need no damn drugs. I'm gon' give these back to him tomorrow."

        "I guess they were just worried about me. I wasn't really that great, you know, with everything..." You trailed off.

        "Okay." He nodded. "I'm here now. Ya don't need 'em."

        "Okay." You said sleepily, eyes feeling heavy in the comfort of his embrace. You really didn't need valium, you just needed him to lay with you. He glanced down at you, feeling a bit of warmth in his chest as your eyes began to flutter.

        "Get some sleep, now." He whispered.

[corvusblackk]

when i first shifted to my fantasy dr (part 1)

i shifted to this dr in the past and i made a google doc about it because i wanted to send it to my friends but now that i have this account i can share the experience with y’all too :)

i recently shifted there again and wanted to share that too but i thought it would be better to post this one first as it explains more about my dr.

i’ll just copy and paste the document but it says that it’s too long so i have to split it into two posts.

so here we go.

OKAY SO I don't know where to start because I'm still freaking out okay. first of all, to shift, I simply set the intention to wake up in that specific reality (which I called “fantasy reality” because I didn't know what other name to give it) and went to sleep without doing anything else except visualising some parts of my dr house. the next morning i felt something on my face like someone was holding my face in their hands which scared me because i went to sleep alone and usually no one wakes me up but then i remembered it could be mom since we had something to do that morning. only that it wasn’t mom- opening my eyes I was hella shocked, I can't even explain what I felt after seeing that I had neteyam in front of me (yes, I added him to the script of this reality too), after all these months of pure agony (and I'm not kidding) I was finally in front of him and him in front of me. i immediately tried not to act weird but it was super hard so after he asked me if i was sick i told him i had a very weird nightmare and i still had to recover. the fact is that in this reality where I shifted he is not a blue alien but a "human" version (not so much human because he's an elf) and god, he was beautiful, the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life. at that point he seemed kind of worried about me because i was staring at him the whole time in silence trying to realize what had just happened so to avoid freaking him out more i told him i was so tired again and fuck, he laughed and then he fucking kissed me. to say that I exploded at that moment is an understatement, but let's overlook it. we got out of bed and started getting ready because, from what I understand, we had decided the night before that that morning we would go to my best friend's café (her name is auri and she is a fairy) and it was initially strange to realize that I had wings on my back (they are not so big anyway, that's why I didn't even feel them at first) and I immediately wondered how the fuck do I put a shirt on 🧍🏼but in the end I wore something all shredded. auri (one of my best friends) was so energetic, she never stopped talking but it didn't bother me. then my other friends yuri and will joined us (it’s will byers lol, i added him to the script after watching stranger things this summer). and will is a faun here 😭 he is truly a love, the sweetest and kindest person i know. I'm writing too much maybe I should cut it a bit, i’ll try to summarize from now. in the afternoon comes my favorite part: my work. in this reality I am half fairy half witch, which is a rare gene there (i scripted so because i wanted to be main character), in fact I am almost the only witch in the village apart from my mother and grandmother. so I went home to prepare a potion that someone had asked me for, they had to spray it on the garden that would make the crops grow well. meanwhile, while I was working on my table/altar, neteyam was working on a wonderful painting (that’s his job) which represented the image of the ocean at sunset with a ship in the centre. it was incredible, he was so talented. after i finished the potion i had another customer that day who ordered me a tarot reading so i went to her house (customers often come to my house but it is more usual for me to go to them). she was a young fairy and lived with her mother. as soon as I arrived they were both very kind and asked me if I wanted something to eat or drink before the reading, I said maybe later but they insisted so they made me sit down and gave me a slice of lemon cake (y’all it was so good) and some tea made by them.

(go to my next post for part 2 cause i can’t fit the entire text here for some reason)

[kpopbestie96]

Chapter Eight

You let your friends in, excited to have George, Dani, Gabby and Bella (the friend that got sick and couldn't go to the concert) over. This was your third time seeing her, but you both became fast friends - as if you both have known each other for years.

"Okay, so I got the Uber for brunch. He should be here soon." George said who was dressed up in a black tank top that sat underneath a black fishnet top, paired with light denim pants that had holes on each side showing off their thighs, wearing black Doc Martens.

"Ugh I can't wait to have mimosas in front of me! It's been a stressful week at work." Dani said who was wearing a plain baby blue tub top, paired with white joggers, with blue and white Nikes.

"I love your outfit!" Gabby complimented as she wore a black tennis skirt with a light purple crop top that was off the shoulders, showing off her small kitten tattoo on her left shoulder, hiding a bit underneath her light purple bralette.

"Thanks but love yours more!" You wore something so simple, a cute dark green, silk, summer dress that you paired with short black heels.

"I think someone's at the door," Bella mentioned, who was wearing a simple short pink dress with flats that had white daisy's sitting on top.

"Oh okay!" You didn't know who it could be, peaking through the peephole to see Melissa. You saw that she tried to call but decided to ignore it. Something must be wrong, you thought when opening the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you and you probably don't want to talk to me but this is important." You could tell the urgency in her voice and the scare in her eyes.

"Come in..." You opened the door wider for her to walk through.

"Why the fuck is she here??" Gabby asked, standing up ready to fight.

"Gabby, hold on," you put your hand up. "What's going on?"

"It's Sarah.. she's pretending to be you...."

Everyone in the room gasped like a Spanish telenovela, couldn't believe she would do that. "What the fuck?? How??" You wondered.

She took in a deep breath before explaining how she dyed her hair, changed her makeup and sent him a message posing as you.

You stood in your spot, couldn't even began to fathom what Melissa was explaining.

"What a bitch!" Dani blurred out.

"What do I do?" You pressed your head against the wall and looked up at the celling. I knew it was too go to be true.

"We have to put it all over social media!" Gabby threw her idea out loud.

"Yes let's do it!" You said jumping up from your seat.

"The Uber is here," George announced.

"Let's get in, eat and get to work when we get there! This is now a defcon one!" Gabby yelled, laughing while everyone made their way out the door.

"Thanks for telling me," you said walking with Melissa to the elevator after locking your front door.

"No problem I feel bad for what happened. I'm truly sorry."

They got into the elevator, took it to the lobby, seeing their Uber waiting for them outside. "Melissa, wanna come with us?" You asked, accepting her apology.

"Really?"

"Yeah, come on!"

...

The second the waiter took the drink order everyone began to discuss the plan, with Gabby taking the lead. "Okay, so we should post her Instagram account on Twitter and say it's her. We'll post our videos along with it as evidence."

"What if crazy fans come after me?" You feared, knowing there are some "fans" who are going to send you death threats.

"First off, your account is private. Two who gives a fuck. The fact Chan is looking for YOU, they can fuck right off," George noted, seeing how serious they were being.

"Yeah but what if they find my job and..."

"Babes, you need to chill. You'll get to be with THE Bang Chan from Stray Kids! Who fuckin' cares about anyone else," Bella said touching your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

You put up a faint smile, nodded your head that you understood.

"Should we post this now?" Melissa asked.

"No, closer to maybe a reasonable time in Korea. Right now everyone should be sleeping, so I say here in a few hours."

"Yes! You're so fucking smart Gabby!" You praised your best friend.

"I'm your fairy Godmother for a reason!" She smiled, waving a invisible wand around.

The waiter dropped off everyone's drinks, "I propose a toast," Gabby said raising her drink in the air. "To Y/n and Chan!"

"To Y/n and Chan!" Everyone cheered, clanking their glasses together.

You took a sip of your drink, praying this all works.

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Back to Chapter One

[hydrangeyes]

Rogue ☁️🌩

So if you don't know, Yes this already existed, my old account was deleted (accident but I can tell I won't be getting it back), and am reposting my old x male reader works!

I don't know if I saved all of them but here is one that was saved to my AO3 account.

Edit: So shuffling through my docs It's been brought to my attention that wattpad (who I use as backup) Cut a lot of my fics in half??? anyway I'll be trying to fix that also

-------------------------------------------

Missing male reader x Sun wukong

[P/s] : preferred scent

More angst than anything, wukong finds an old friend

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were meticulous when it came to your disappearance.

Faking death, check. Leaving no evidence that it could be fake, check. Running to the mortal world and starting a new life? Check.

You had it all down. Of course, you didn't stay in one place, fear that you would be found by immortals who lived there and were allied with the Jade emperor. It kept you on your toes until eventually you settled in an area that had more demons than immortals.

Of course you did your best to protect the humans living there asking each time to keep your existence a secret. It was the village turned cities big secret.

But of course, as time went, you knew he would find you. After all, you were living in his current second home.

Your own home was a decent if small apartment in a complex around the more elderly, those who remember who you was. Even a porch where you had a garden going, giving anything extra to locals.

You theorize that's how wukong found you. Someone let something slip, because there was no other reason for him to suddenly be here, in your garden, nibbling on some strawberries that just grew fruit.

"You know, it's a little embarrassing that I didn't find you until now, old friend." Wukong drawls, eyes on you as you warily put down the basket in your arms.

"Don't be, I took....a lot of measures to not be found." You reply back, the air wasn't tense per sat but you knew better than to relax.

You heard about the uproar he made when he found out about your disappearance, and eventual statement of death. And you wish you could have sent him a message, but at the time you also knew wukong had a big mouth.

"Yeah. Funny how that is. Want to tell me exactly why? See, you're 'disappearance', had me fooled. Not even your scent left behind. So either this was all a game or you're a demon using my friends' face."

You see the simian getting angrier as he talked, and letting out a deep sigh you move to sir next to him, relaxing the wards you had on yourself to mask your natural scent and aura.

The familiar smell of [p/s] and a soft golden glow came to wukong's senses. While that eased something in him that wanted to fight whoever was using your face, another grew disheartened that. What ever happened while he was gone, forced you to go into hiding even from him.

"It's nothing you did, wukong... I just didn't want the emperor to send you to retrieve me if I did just leave. I needed to make sure no one would even think too." You began, hands fiddling together as tou looked down at them.

"My father had found a warrior for me to marry. It...it was not up to discussion if I wanted to be wed or not, just that this would open up a good trade."

You grimace hearing his tail smack the banister behind you two, in what you guess was surprise.

"When I went to plead against the union, things spiraled out of control. And the emperor was called to step in." You lean back to look at the sky.

"I meet my fiancé. And I hated our wedding, hated our...union. it was loveless and I was nothing more than a new toy in his collection." Rubbing the back of your neck you grimace harder.

"I snapped and everything went red.... I don't even know if i....if he's...."

"So you ran." Wukong speaks up making you flinch and zone back in to the now. You look over to him, seeing the fury being held back in his eyes.

"N/n... I don't care what the emperor would have said, I would be there for you." He starts and gently takes your hand in his.

"You are my my dear friend. I would come to you even if it's just to give you the TV remote in the same room." This made you left out a soft snort, noticing now just how much you are trembling.

"Anything N/n. In fact the only thing stopping me from going up there to make sure that bastard is gone and tearing your father into shreds, is that I don't want to leave your side."

"Please don't do that."

"Mmm I'll think about it."

With that you both quiet down as you wait for your nerves to calm down, moving to leaning your head against his shoulder.

"It was ages ago, and it's not like it was all awful. I guess I just couldn't get over that I wanted it to be-" you stop yourself quickly. Nope nuh uh. Nope.

You move back feeling your cheeks warm, as wukong eyes you curiously, tail moving to wrap around your waist to keep you close. Like old times.

"Wanted it to be?" He asks poking your arm and sides getting a chuckle from you, "nuh uh no way, that's a secret I'm keeping to myself. Anyway," Quickly wanting to change the subject now that you spilled your old guts.

"What have you been up too? It gets so noisy downtown and occasionally I hear about some new monkey kid???"

You question leaning back on him and letting him adjust you so that you both were properly cuddling. "I didnt know you had a kid~ I always knew you and macaque wanted-"

Wukong sputters and blushes a deep red. "N/n, mk is not our biological kid!"

-------------------

Ending this hereeeeeee, lol

Turned out more angst than fluff with a dash of shadowpeach (which may as well be in most of these)

[itsquakey]

Say it with me.

Did Opal-Owl-Flight groom minors? NO

Did Blue-Jester groom minors? NO

Did they go too far up by making a lot of very questionable sex jokes and showing imagery that is suggestive to minors? YES

Are you kidding me??? I was aware that the words “Groomer” and “Pedo” are thrown around just like that on the internet. But…holy shit. So what are these two being accused of? Well. Grooming. Because they were saying some very out of pocket risky jokes and had art that is risky (According to sources of both sides no actual porn was posted, just risky content in which you could argue teeters on NSFW because remember, not all NSFW is blatant porn. It’s a spectrum.) Okay so let’s look at the definition of grooming here. According to Oxford Dictionary grooming is the attempt to form a relationship with someone for them with the sole intention of sex or being in a sexual relationship with them.

From interviewing both sides as well as looking into the two hundred paged doc (which we will get there soon my friends), there was no instance of grooming here, they didn’t try to get closer to these kids to try and use them for sex, the closest thing you could tie that to is the pinup drawings, which I don’t even think Opal or Blue knew what they were doing when they posted that. Oh. And one more thing.

Hey owl. I know we’re mutuals and all. And I saw you already fixed this but I feel the need to say it. You are an adult. I am an adult. We should not be throwing the word groomer around especially when you are in contact with the doc maker and likely already read it all. I understand grooming is a very serious thing however we should remain mostly neutral if not stand our ground a little bit but be open while we listen to all sides of the story before jumping to conclusions.

So what about the doc? Hey where did it go? Yea it got deleted or just taken off public view from what I’ve seen. If I were to take a guess…it may or may not have to do with the lack of censorship when it came to the minors in this situation! Yes, they did not censor a large amount of the minors interactions in this doc opening them up to harassment. I know one of these minors and went to them in hopes of them telling me more. But guess what? They did what most kids would do in such a situation and freaked out, which was my fault for trying to do such a thing without thinking. These kids are basically open to a rain of gunfire now because of no censorship. I thought we were trying to protect them? What’s up with that? I don’t consider it doxxing as doxxing is the reveal of personal information on the internet/ to the public. The info of those minors were public in a way. But it’s still VERY scummy whether or not the doc makers knew that. And to add onto this, according to a few people some or all of these screenshots were taken out of context. I was not given any further proof so take it with a grain or salt. If the doc maker is reading this. I’d recommend actually taking time in making that doc better because all it does is make you look aggressive even if you may have a point in some things. Or just… go to those involved and try to fix it in private so unneeded drama like this doesn’t happen.

Opal, Blue, any other adult who happened to be heavily involved. I understand sex jokes = funny. I understand we can go too far. Hell. This situation made me realize I did a similar thing a while back and how it was not at all cool of me to do. I know that sex humor is a staple in minors and at the end of the day we can laugh about “magic condoms” or how much of a slut Mago is. Here’s the thing. I do think you guys went too far. A sex joke or two is funny and not out of the ordinary (again, I have I think a couple of those on my account if you look hard enough) and I know it’s easy to go take a couple steps too far from the path. What I want you lads to do is be aware that a lot of the more raunchier jokes and images wasn’t okay around minors and you need to take responsibility for it. No defensive words. Just say “Yeah I messed up, but guess what. I can fix this” and I’m not just expecting this just out of you, I’m expecting this out of the other side and those who jumped on these claims without looking into them. Here is an idea for you, what can possibly fix your issue with regards to content within your server. Make a 18+ channel or a series of them, having them locked and people only allowed in by mods who give it a green light when the person wanting in is 18 or older. That way you can post content and make jokes to your hearts content without worrying about these folks calling you groomers. Worst case scenario you get called a degenerate but I mean…come on. If you’re a degenerate then I am 100x more of one judging by the jokes and content I’ve made in the shadows. The adult channels is something I’ve seen in multiple Kirby servers and if you plan on keeping your current server or moving to a new one to protect minor identity keep that idea of mine in mind please. This is kinda like the maturity option on tumblr posts, which if you haven’t used yet for spicier content I highly recommend!

And this is just for Opal. Hey, I wanna say this so you don’t catch flack for it later but author doesn’t equal character is not an excuse in this situation. I understand the thought process of this, but keep in mind you are the one speaking through Magolor. You are the one who wrote him to have this character and you should be very aware that if you use that excuse on anyone who isn’t as open as I am they will likely just completely believe you are trying to save your own ass.

FYI If later on in the timeline it does come out someone here no matter what side they’re on is actually grooming minors with undeniable proof, they’re going to have to deal with my ass and the cops.

I don’t think I will be involved in drama again, unless it’s of this magnitude in which I’d highly recommend saying your prayers because I will not be nearly as nice as I was in this post.

TLDR: Opal and Blue aren’t groomers, stop throwing that word around. Everyone in this situation is at some sort of fault and should just take responsibility like a fucking adult instead of excusing and worming their way around it.

Please do not contact me unless you are involved in this drama or are a close mutual of mine. I’m afraid I may blow up on you because my fuse has been eaten up by the flame of this situation. Goodnight Tri-State area.

Edit: Please read comments and tags as they share different opinions and may cover things I didn’t cover or may have gotten wrong. Thanks.

[praxcrown5]

Doc Hudson Fanfic: Sneak Peek #2

This excerpt is from May 12, 1950 (Cycle 9): Hud's best friend tries to convince him to race as a favor to their mutual boss, Smokey.

Note: Hud (age 12) is the youngest member of a gang of moonshine runners called the Still Chasers. They are led by an Oldsmobile 88 Rocket named Ghost.

Note II: In my headcanon, vehicles reach physical/sexual maturity at the age of eleven.

Note III: Ghost speaks with a heavy Appalachian accent, seeing as he's originally from the mountains southeast of Middlesboro, Kentucky.

Ghost nudged open the door to the Cotter Pin and rolled in like he owned the place.

It was busy for a Sunday on account of it being a race day, and all makes and models were crammed in, bumper to bumper, talking loudly and animatedly; "pre-gamming," as some folks called it.

Ghost scanned the room.  Sure enough, he could see Hud and the rest of the Still Chasers hanging out in their usual spot by the bar.  Everyone was sporting their in-town paint jobs to better blend in with the law-abiding rabble. Cass was a lovely shade of red, Flips and Otto were matching shdes of beige, Wilkis was white with red fenders, and Hud had chosen a handsome indigo blue that really made his polished, chrome accents pop.

He was also wearing whitewall tires. Expensive ones. Lord knows where he got the extra cash from...

Thankfully, the young tripper hadn’t struck out on his own yet, though he seemed to be appraising someone at the bar: A Mercury Eight with an almost gaudy, metallic orange paint job.

Ghost rolled his eyes. Hud's taste in other cars was...odd to his sensibilities, so to was his preference for male company, but to each their own.

The Oldsmobile made his way through the crowd as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t easy.  By the time he reached the table, the whole gang was staring at him expressions ranging from annoyed—Cass, of course—to concerned—as was the case with Otto and Flips—to smug with Hud and Wilkis.

“I dare say that's a record." Wilkis said with a grin. He adjusted one of his rear view mirrors so he could look at the clock near the bar. "Twenty two minutes and three seconds. Yep, definitely a record."

"So..." Hud added, coyly. "What did you do this time to get bumped? Oo! Did you try to 'council' another married wom..."

"Bite your tongue, boy." Ghost rumbled, hiding his annoyance behind a strained smile. He'd gotten a bit too close to one of the racer’s wives the last time they were in town.  In his defense, she was having relationship issues, and just wanted someone to talk to.  The racer, of course, thought he was trying to hook up with her and a fight broke out.  Normally Ghost could hold his own in a bar-room brawl…but it was seven on one, and he ended up in a heap on the curb.

The smugness in the kid’s expression gentled to something approaching skepticism, but he slid one of his drinks over to Ghost who accepted it with a smile.  “Thanks, kid.”

“So…why are ya here?” Hud asked sounding serious this time. "Disguised or not, it's risky."

“Yeah,” Cass agreed. "Not that we don't mind your company...but I ain't in prison, and I'd very much like to keep it that way."

He considered the group of vehicles, shrewdly. "Well...Smokey's in a bind; big'un by the sound of hit. I reckon we should help him out. Might owe us a hefty favor iffen we can deliver."

Everyone quieted up and they looked between each other, surprised.

“So…what does he need?” Hud wondered.

"He needs ye, Hud.” Ghost replied taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m not into trucks.”

Ghost coughed and sputtered as he choked on the liquid in his throat.  Cass and the others laughed.

“He don't need ye like THAT.  Geez, kid.”  He fixed Hud with an almost paternal look of concern.  “Why? Why? WHY? Would that be your first thought?”

The kid threw a sly grin in his direction, then took a long swig of his drink.

Ghost pursed his lips, and turned to glare at Cassie, since she was usually the team's default "voice of reason" when he wasn't around.

"Don't look at me," she shrugged. She might as well have added: "He's an adult, now. What he does in his free time is his business."

Ghost stifled a sigh and made a mental note to pay more attention to what the Hud got up to during their forays into town.  Prostitution was illegal, after all, and the last thing they needed was additional police scrutiny. He cleared his throat. “Smokey needs a driver.”

“What about Bernard?” Cass asked.

“Injured.”

“Bert?” Flips wondered.

“Smack drunk.” 

“Figures…” Otto muttered with a laugh. “But, there’s always Bob.”

Ghost said nothing.

“Ungh…Bob’s out too, geez.”  Wilkis huffed, nudging his empty drink container with a tire.

“Yeah, he done got hisself a mighty good hookup…and he still a-sleepin’ it off…”

Good-natured chuckles traveled around the table…but after a moment, everyone quieted up.  Gazes slowly began to turn towards the youngest member of the group.

Hud considered Ghost out of the corner of his eye.  “Let me guess…” he drawled with his usual sass.  “Someone got it in Smokey’s head that I’m the fastest car in Georgia or sommat?” 

“Mighta...”   

“I mean…they wouldn’t be wrong…” Hud continued. “I am the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, after all.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, good-naturedly.  Hud had started calling himself the “Fabulous Hudson Hornet” after their latest brush with the ATF…when he got separated from the team...yet somehow managed to evade an entire ATF taskforce AND police squads from three, different counties. “But whomever made the recommendation—seein’ as they know me so well—must surely be aware that I was promised three days of uninterrupted R&R once I got back to Thomasville.”  He looked over at Ghost, batted his eyes, and gave him the most tar-eating grin his mouth could manage.  “A race is a MIGHTY big interruption if you ask me...”

The Oldsmobile pursed his lips.  “Are ye gonna do it or not?”

“Hmmmm… I don’t know…” the kid drawled.  His eyes wandered back to the orange Mercury by the bar.   “I could think of a better way to spend my evening…”

“Purse is $3500.”

Hud whipped his front-end around so he could stare at Ghost with wide, blue eyes.  “Are you serious?”

Ghost nodded.  “$750 for first; $500 for second; $350 third through six. Ain't nothin' of note after."

Otto and Flips whistled.  “Damn…”

“That’s some serious bank.,” Cass agreed.

The young Hornet nodded, impressed.  “I can’t say no to that kind of cash…and,” He fixed his mentor with a lopsided grin.  “…both you and Smokey owing me a favor each; feels like I hit the lottery.”

“Hey, I never said…”  Ghost protested.

“Oh, what’s that?”  Hud was already driving to towards the front door, grinning like an idiot.  “I can’t hear you over the sound of my imminent victoryyyyyy. Oooooo…” He made a hasty exit before the Oldsmobile could get a word in, edge-wise.

Cass laughed and nudged Ghost’s fender with the back of her front tire.  “Wow.  Y’all drove into that one.”  She looked at the rest of the gang.  “C’mon boys, let’s go see how this shakes down.”  The rest of the gang cheered and tamped their tires before following Hud out the door, leaving Ghost to idle by himself for a few moments.   

The Oldsmobile sighed, heavily, finished his drink and followed the rest of his team muttering to himself about the “nerve of that kid” and “don’t know where he gets it from."

Since I don't yet have character refs for the Still Chaser gang, here are the ref pics I used for the characters

Cassie

Otto

Flips

Wilkis

Ghost

[yourlocalwheeliebin]

Driving Home to Bucky After A Long Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Gender Neutral) Reader 

Word Count: 1.3k

TW: None 

AN: Just a short but sweet one shot about our favorite boy. This has sat in my google docs for a ass time so I hope you all enjoy! Okay, mags out!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

It’s been a long day. Too long for it to only be a Wednesday. You're having to work late because one of your colleagues fucked up some paperwork after a mission that you now need to fix. Your boss is nice enough to ask if you need dinner orders but you tell them no and you'll eat when you get home. “Fucking Sara, how do you screw up a goddamn injury form this badly” you groan, filling out anther claim made by our colleague. 

Finally, after around 3 hours past your usual shift, you're able to leave for Buck's. You look out the window and the rain has only gotten heavier on the cold November night. It’s pitch black out apart from city lights and cars that drove past. You shut down your computer, grab your coat and start to head out. In the lift, you message Bucky letting him know you're finally on the way home. It's almost 8pm. 

You run to your car, holding your jacket over your head to not get too wet. You sit there for a few minutes to let out a deep sigh and release some stress that you'd been holding. Starting up your car, you turn on the heating and connect your phone up to the Bluetooth. Songs that remind you of Bucky start to play, a feeling of ease finally washes over you as you pull out of the parking lot. 

Traffic in Brooklyn is brutal, the journey home taking far longer than you'd like it to. The lights of other cars slowly strained your tired eyes. The yells and noise of the city deafened by the music playing through the speaker. Your clothes and hair slowly dry as you drive, wondering how much longer the journey will take.

Pulling up to Bucky's apartment, you turn off the car and lie back on the seat for a second. Almost steadying the tiredness and stress from the day before you venture into the apartment complex. The area isn't the nicest but it's near where he grew up. A rough blue eyed boy from Brooklyn who deserved the world waiting for you to come home to him. Mentally cursing how many stairs you'll have to climb since the lift is out of order. 

Entering the building, the dusty smell of the cold building is a stark contrast to the cold November air outside. The climb up the stairs felt like an eternity, the walls getting progressively dirtier as you climb each flight. Standing outside the door of Buck’s apartment at last, you slowly open the door to the dimly lit home. 

Bucky's apartment wasn't much. He rented it when it was just himself living there, not taking into account meeting you or the fact he deserved more than just four dingy walls. Parts of you linger in each room, a daily reminder that you’re real and not just part of some sick dream. That you're really with him, not planning to leave any time soon. 

From the toothbrush in the bathroom; to the extra blankets and cushions you bought for the living room so the leather of the beat up old sofa wouldn't stick to your skin after hours of watching TV together cuddled up. Fairy lights hung up in the bedroom and living room, a fond memory from when you put them up at Christmas the year before but never took them down since you thought they looked pretty. He couldn't help agreeing, saying they looked beautiful as he stared at you rather than the yellow lights decorating the walls. 

The small kitchen held home to kitchenware that you bought once you found out he only had two pots and a frying pan for pancakes. A cheesy apron hung up on the edge of the door that had "Kiss the Cook'' on the front, a joke gift that a friend of yours bought you for your birthday. 

Though the apartment was small and there was barely enough room to move in it, he wouldn't change it for the world. His room didn't have a door to separate it from the living room and sure, the heating didn't work half the time and don't get him started on the guy on the 2nd floor who flirts with you every time he runs into you....he wouldn't change it one bit of it meant a life without you. 

Walking through the door, the smell of cinnamon, leather and dust washed over you. A warm welcoming smell that always felt like home to you. He always seemed to smell like old leather, pine and something sweet that you couldn't quite put your finger on. You took off your shoes and called out to Bucky as you put down your bag and jacket on the small side table that was next to the front door. 

You looked around for Bucky as you walked in. The kitchen island was tidy for once and the wooden floor had been mopped. 'Must have cleaned while I was out' you thought as you walked towards the sofa in the middle of the living room. An old Friends rerun playing on the TV again. 

Buck walks out from the bathroom in a t-shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, looking freshly showered with his wet hair sticking to his forehead. He comes over with a smile on his face, eyes still the brightest blue you'd ever seen, and envelopes you in a hug. He asks how work was as he leaves a kiss on your forehead. You explain your day before quickly heading off to change out of your work attire.

After changing and finally feeling comfortable again, you walk into the living room. The main lights had been turned off, the fairy lights from Christmas were turning the room a warm and cosy yellow. Some candles were lit on the kitchen island and on the TV stand as some soft music played in the background. You laugh a little as you walk over to him. Sat on the sofa, Bucky smiles at you, knowing how hard today must have been.

"Long day?" He asked. "God, don’t get me started” Buck stood up from the sofa, making is way to the middle of the small living room and placed a hand on your lower back and slowly pulled you in for a kiss. “I would gladly have rather spent the day here”. Buck let out a small breathy laugh, “well you’re here now” he says, almost whispering as if was trying to convince himself you were real. 

“How'd you do this all while I was getting changed? I was only in there for like 5 minutes, Buck". He takes your hands in his as Louis Armstrong starts to play through the speaker. "I may have planned this out a bit before you got home. Plus, food has been ordered. Got your favorite" He said with that same sweet smile he always gives you. Even though your tired, that damn Bucky Barnes Charm is irresistible. 

“Wow look at you go, ordering food from your phone” He scoffs sarcastically. “Hey, I am perfectly capable ordering from the phone, it’s not rocket science” You laugh, resting your forehead against his. “I know, I’m only joking old man”. 

He pulls you close and starts to sway to the music. The windows open slightly let in the light noise of rain and that ambiance of the city outside. It all adds to the small bubble the two of you had made in the apartment. The song changes to Can't Help Falling In Love With You as he places another kiss on your forehead. 

"I love yah, Doll. You know that right?" You turn your head to face him. The swaying stops and his hands rest on your waist. His face, dimly lit by the fairy lights and candles. "I know, I love you too Buck. Always have, always will". The two of you go back to softly swaying to the music, wrapped in each others warmth. Feeling safe in the world for a moment. 

[booiiee]

Brooklyn Baby

Read Chapter 1 here

-----

Chapter - 2

“Is the silence bothering everyone or is it just me?” Eric chimed, cutting through the silence of the table.

J- I think Miss Rose here is upset that we ruined her afternoon plans of a sad lunch here at the cafeteria

R- I’ll have you know that I very much enjoy my lunches here at the hospital cafeteria and they are not sad

J- Oh why? Do you watch fancams of us in your free time?

God why is he smirking? As if his face wasn’t already making you angry/ God he is so gorgeous it actually hurts.

R- No not all of you!

J- Oh so just your bias then? WHo is your bias?

E- Oh yeah I wanna know too. And if it’s me I’ll act surprised okay?

R- Well it used to be you Eric, but it was Juyeon last I had the time to you know, catch up with the content.

J- Ah that’s disappointing, I almost thought you’d say my name. Specially with how defensive you were back there saying “I could never hate Hyunjae not in this life for sureee”

See you love this boy, but you also have zero tolerance to someone mimicking you, both of these things can be true. So if you said “I do not care about you enough to hate you that is why I said that!”, it really doesn't mean anything, to you at least.

The change in his expression was quick but you caught it, Eric returning with your drinks looks puzzled with the silence.

J- Well, we will be taking your leave doctor, you’ll see Eric next week.

E- And you the week after cause-

J- Let’s not bore her with details she is not interested in, Eric. Let’s go.

E- Oh and doc, this is yours, please take it. J looked for it for hours before we finalized it.

The two wear their masks and leave with Eric shouting “see you doc” from across the cafeteria while Hyunjae looked like he could not be out of here faster.

You open the gift and find a note that says “Butterflies love roses” and let out a loud gasp seeing the heart shaped bookmark with a butterfly engraved in the center.

(Ref reel: The bookmark )

Sleep was a luxury that night and you felt too guilty to afford it. You stayed up revisiting fancam of him and the edits from your now abandoned account. God you really loved this guy and the first time you met him you lashed out on him for his annoying trait- something that you’ve told all your friends you love about him.

In your most guilt filled heart and clouded mind, you did what you could think of and texted Eric, Gosh where is my professionalism!

R- Hi Eric, this is Doctor Rose. Sorry for texting you I need a little help

E- Heyyy Hi doc! I am happy you texted!

How can I help? Did you not like the present? 🙁

R- No, no that’s not it. I loved it. I actually wanted to thank Jaehyun for it and thought I should text him

E- Aww that is so thoughtful of you. Wait I’ll send over this contact to you

*1 Contact J *

R- Thank you Eric 🙂

E- Anytime doc 🌹

You haven’t been this anxious texting a guy since high school, which isn’t an evidence of the regularity of texting guys but rather a testament of how long it’s been since you’ve actively texted a guy.

R- hi Mr. Jaehyun, this is doctor rose from NewYork-Presbyterian Brooklyn Methodist Hospital.

J- Oh hello Doc

How may i help you?

R- I wanted to thank you for the present, it was really thoughtful of you

J- I am happy you liked it

R- And I wanted to apologise

For earlier today

I really shouldn’t have spoken to you like that and I really didn’t mean to say that I do not give a fuck about you to hate you. It’s just that I am really sensitive to people mimicking me and I get annoyed easily and-

*Jaehyun calling*

J- Hi doc, i figured it's best if we spoke on the phone and let me start by apologising. We don’t know each other enough for me to be mimicking you I am sorry, you had the right to be annoyed.

R- And I should not have spoken to you like that either

J- Well I can think of something to accept your apology

You should start calling me by my name

R- oh….okay sure do you prefer hyunjae or jaehyun?

J- my fans call me hyunjae and i gather you are not one so-

R- I told you that is not the casee

J- So you like me then?

(I love you boy if you only knew)

R- I dont hate you

J- Easy save Rose. easy save

R- Well then goodnight

Thank you really for the bookmark, it’s gorgeous. And for the note too, it’s cute.

J- You’re named after a flower of course I am gonna make these references

R- Not a lot of people do that actually to my surprise

J- Well you have me now so don’t be surprised

R- Is he insane?

J- Ouch i thought we were becoming friends :/

R- Did i say that out loud????

J- Do you replay all your sentences in your head before you saythem to me?

R- No!!!!

*Jaehyun laughs*

J- cute

Goodnight Rose, hope you have a good day tomorrow

R- You too. Hope you have a good time at the fan event

J- Of course you know our schedule, thank you

*Call ends*

R- YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO I JUST SPOKE TO!!!!

D- If you don’t say hyunjae or Chris hemsworth i dont wanna know

R- ITS HYUNJAEEE

D- WHATTTTTT

The debrief with daisy lasted longer than your call with him and you were sure if hyunjae was anywhere near you he could hear her squeal. Gosh it was all so surreal, now that you were narrating it to her you realised how unreal it was that you just spoke to HYUNJAE.

To your utter ( & pleasant ) surprise you did see hyunjae the next week, smiling as he walked towards you, Eric was still at his session so you guys will be talking alone, well not completely alone, it was the hospital cafeteria.

R- I thought you were busy this week

J- Awww you’re missing me

R- NO I AM NOT

J- Dare i say, i missed you too?

R- oh

J- Clearly not as much as you did but yeah

R- um you want something?

J- A fraction of your schedule yeah

R- I meant from the menu

J- Oh in that case nothing

R- You sure you don’t wanna eat something? You had a busy wee-

You did not realise how close he was to your face until you turned around.

J- Careful rose, you don’t wanna get me habituated to you

GOD WHY DOES HE LOOK SO PRETTY!!!!

R- oh um okay

E- Wassuuupp my two favourite people in the world?!

R- Hey Eric how was your session?

E- It was so boring today i hate writing stuff

J- don't you have a schedule to run to?

E- schedule?

OH YEAH RIIIGHTTT. I gotta run doc rose, i got a schedule see ya

R- Bye-

J- So where were we?

R- In the cafeteria?

J- Funny. You know what I'm talking about

R- No I don't

J- Yes you do

Or would you rather me spell it out for you, hmm? The way he leans onto the table close to you is making you nervous.

This boy needs to stop getting so close to your face.

J- I'll take that as a yes. We were talking about you giving me a fraction of your time and coming to this music festival with me

R- Music festival?

J- Yes, I've heard great things about the band that's playing tonight and i take you as a music lover so you'll like it there.

And as a bonus you get to spend your evening with me

R- Hmm can you make my evening worthwhile tho?

Stupid girl don't get flirty with him what if strikes bac-

J- If you allow me I can

R- ….okay sure we can go

J- Okay, it's a date then!

R- IT ISS???

J- I don't know if you sound happy excited or just shocked, but I think I've made it pretty clear that I'm interested in you, so would it be okay if this is a date?

R- mmm okay

J- See you, rose.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

one day I'll be better at tumblr formatting but it's not today😔

for loml @un-love

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump No.15

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today. 

Here today to talk all things whumpy is the fabulous @actress4him!

We’re thrilled to have you here, @actress4him! Let’s start with a non-whump fact or two about yourself!

I go by Jada! I’m a mom of two girls, ages 6 and 8, and it’s a blast watching them play all the whumpy things we did as children and wondering if they’ll grow up to be whumpers, too. When I’m not writing, I enjoy creating cosplay, occasionally drawing, and going on adventures with my family.

Let’s get straight to the point! What does the term whump mean to you? 

Anything where the character goes through a hard time, physically or emotionally, or ideally, both! And we’re actually allowed to focus on it and see the beginning, middle, and aftermath.

And how did you find the whump community? Anything specific that made you want to join?

It all started on fanfiction.net with the hurt/comfort tag, then led to AO3, where I learned of Bad Things Happen Bingo and first started seeing the term whump. That prompted me to create a Tumblr account, so that I could participate in all these whump events I was hearing about, and the rest is history!

Has your view on whump changed since you joined? Maybe your choice of OC vs Fandom?

When I first joined I was solely writing fanfiction, though I did write a series with an OC 

insert, and I had been writing original stories for most of my life. It took a bit of time and seeing how well other people’s OCs were received on Tumblr to get the courage to go back to writing my own characters and universes. 

And now everyone’s favourite bit: let’s talk whump tropes! Do you have nay particular favourites?

Lady whump, if that counts as a trope! Also captivity whump, restraints of any kind, especially gags/muzzles and stress positions, using whumpees against each other, playing on fears, whipping, stabbing, touch-aversion, even better when combined with touch-starvation…I could go on.

They’ve all got to be in my top favs too! Do you mind sharing a couple of your favourite pieces that you’ve written?

Oh my, that’s hard to decide. If I’m allowed to pick two, I’d first say Again, the opening piece for my series Obsession. The writing muse was just flowing that day and I always liked the way that one turned out.

Then from my favorite series, The Shadow of Death, my other favorite piece is I Will Punish Your Friend for Your Failure. That was a bingo prompt that I had way too much fun writing, there’s just so much pain all around for both the characters and so much angst to go along with it!

Damn, I love the lady whump in“Again”! So good. Do you mind sharing what your writing routine looks like?

I do most of my writing at night after my kids are in bed, usually between 10-11pm. I also sneak in writing time while they’re in dance class, though I do more rp during the day than personal writing. I have been known to get struck with a certain sentence that I don’t want to forget and quickly open Google Docs on my phone to add it, but most of the time I need to sit down with my laptop and get the words flowing to get much done.

And is there an easy thing for you to write? Or something you struggle with writing? 

Dialogue usually comes easily to me, especially when characters get angry. That seems to be when they have a tendency to take over the plot and do whatever they want! 

My biggest writing struggle is battle scenes, which is unfortunate considering the number of characters I’ve created that need to have physical fights fairly often. 

GIve us a sneak peak! Is there anything you're working on at the moment? 

Currently I’m putting the most work into the Soldier Boy AU with my OC Kamaria. I’m not entirely sure how it’s going to end yet, since it started out as a simple idea that I thought would only take 2-3 parts and I’m now on part 6, but it’s been a fun ride so far. 

I’ve also been having fun brainstorming, role playing, and writing a bit of Kamaria’s Royal AU, and am hoping that my brain will let me write another chapter of Liliana’s story sometime soon.

Is there any writing advice you’d like to share?

For me, what works best against writer’s block is having multiple series/WIPs so that I can bounce around to whatever is inspiring me at the moment. It’s when I try to force myself to write something that I’m not feeling that I start getting stuck and bored. And when the block still hits, I do a lot of reading - of others’ works and my own old ones! - and roleplaying and brainstorming with friends and searching for prompts to get inspired again. Most of all, though, just be patient with yourself when the muse is in hiding! It’ll come back eventually. 

Finally, shout-out time! Let’s hype some people up!

Shout out to @painful-pooch for being my best online friend and brainstorm partner and for bringing her OC Bruno into existence!

Also to @aprilwaters and @sableflynn for being so welcoming when I was first finding my way in the whump community, and to these fantastic people for being my ongoing rp partners:

@inscrutable-shadow

@peaches-and-dumbs

@ocean-blue-whump

@crash-bump-bring-the-whump

@whumpy-arts-and-crafts

And to everyone else on the Slices of Whump Discord server for making it a great place to hang out!

Anything you'd like to add?

Thanks for this interview, it was fun! And to anyone reading, I love chatting whump and meeting new people who share the same interests, so feel free to stop by my blog and say hello anytime!

Thanks so much for joining us today, @actress4him!

And to all you lovely folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[overlyobsessedwriter]

Oh hey, it's been a while. I've shot 10 rolls of 35mm pictures over the last couple of years, and I'd like to think that I've been getting better at it.

Everything shot on a Pentax K1000 with Fuji Superia 400 color film.

Chicago, during my summer 2021 cross-country road trip. Unfortunately the roll that I rapidly loaded at Oshkosh didn't turn out, so I missed out on the second half of this trip including the Badlands and other points West. Still bummed out about that, I got some great shots of bighorn sheep and the plains.

My friends Victor and Doc Brian at a WWII event at Eisenhower's farm in Gettysburg, October 2022. Yeah, I didn't shoot much between 2021 and 2022, that missing roll took a lot of damage. Most of the stuff from here on is reenacting, I haven't had a chance to go hiking with the camera really.

My friend Sam at the US Army Heritage and Education Center's open house, October 2022.

Part of the WWII Pacific encampment at WWII Weekend 2023 in Reading, PA. My largest reenacting event of the year, and one of my favorite. They park a B-25 in front of our camp, and every morning I wake up to see it filling the view out of the end of my pup tent. It rained for two days of the event this year so I didn't get many chances for photos.

Another event in Pennsylvania in summer 2023, they had a Huey land at the edge of the event field and I got the chance for a great photo. Too bad I only went for the single shot.

Home sweet home for the weekend. It was miserably hot and we didn't have a good source of water for three days, but at least the fighting position gave us some shade.

My friend Logan portraying our platoon leader. I've been trying to take more portrait shots these days, and I love how these turned out.

Tank Farm 2023 in Nokesville VA, in what turned out to be the final year of the event. I'm so happy this one turned out, the light meter wasn't working and so I just shot randomly.

Words can't describe how much I'm going to miss this event. Us reenactors got were allowed free reign of 30+ armored vehicles for two days and nights. I was able to climb into so many rare vehicles and meet so many great people over the four years I attended.

There are a couple other rolls of specific events that I'll probably make a post for over on my other account so I don't just spam pics here. I have nine more rolls of Fuji Superia 400 in my freezer that I got for cheap and another two rolls in my cameras, so hopefully 2024 will have more landscapes and nature shots in the mix instead of just reenacting events.

[runicmagitek]

Hi there Runic!

I was wondering your opinion on using Scrivner to draft fics vs using Word? Like pros and cons? (Some of the articles online are so confusing! >//<‘)

Thanks so much for the ask, anon! And also thanks for your patience; I wanted to give this some thought, hence the wait.

I primarily use Scrivener and have been using it for a little over a decade. I also use Word during the final phase of edits. I'll list some of my favorite features of each one, followed by the cons.

Scrivener

Organizing a story in Scrivener is where it shines the most. For a longer story, you can break things down by chapter and easily move them around as needed. For me, I use a single file for all my fics and breakdown folders by fandom, then by ships. The use of status markers and labels and custom meta-data, while initially daunting, are also super great to flag what state your draft is in along with any other indicators you wish to use. For me, I like marking if fics are for an exchange or a gift for a friend. I've even customized the meta-data so I can plug in potential tags and ratings as I go!

Snapshots is a neat function that makes a copy of your current file. I use it with each new phase of editing, in case I need to refer to an older version. It's super easy to switch back and forth between snapshots, plus there's a preview to show what has been removed or added from the last version!

There are a ton of compiling options for when you wish to export your story as a Word doc or a PDF or even for epublishing. I don't use this too often, but I have lots of friends who do and it makes proper formatting really simple.

There is a focus mode that removes all the UI stuff and just shows you the words. If this didn't exist, I wouldn't be able to write anything lolsob.

You can set target goals for each document or even the entire file. And if you have multiple documents in a single folder with word count targets applied, Scrivener will add them all up and give you a total target estimate. Really handy for planning out how long your story will be!

THERE IS A DARK MODE THEME.

Word

The grammar/spelling checker is a lot more robust in comparison to Scrivener.

Sharing your Word document and sharing notes/comments with beta readers is a LOT easier in Word. It's similar to how Google Docs works with leaving comments, replying to each other, and marking them as resolved.

Copy-pasting from Word into AO3's rich text preserves the formatting, whereas I've had a lot of wonky issues going from Scrivener to AO3.

Text-to-speech, while kinda weird, is a godsend when I want to read out loud a fic before posting, but don't have the energy to do so.

If you have Word, you likely have a Microsoft subscription, which means you have access to OneDrive, which makes for VERY easy backups. Plus you can get Word on your phone and work off that and your computer seamlessly at no extra cost.

THERE IS ALSO A DARK MODE.

Hokay, now for cons.

Scrivener

Scrivener is not free. It is a one-time fee of $60~. That said, if you participate in NaNo and win, you can get a discount code (I believe it's 50% off?)

It was originally made for Macs, but then a Windows version was developed. The team behind Scrivener is very small and it took… forever to get the Windows version up to speed with the Mac version. There are still some differences between the two, but thankfully both versions are on the same page. Jumping off of this, there is an iOS version, but no Android version.

If you wish to back up your Scrivener stuff, you can only really do that via a Dropbox account. Also, I believe it's not possible to open the same file on different computer types. So if you have two computers (one Mac and one Windows) and want to open the same file on both, it's not really going to work. In my experience, I've also run into issues getting things to sync and open when using two Windows computers. So if you're planning to bounce around different computers/laptops/etc., definitely keep this in mind.

On top of that, for every device you want Scrivener on? You need to pay for that.

Scrivener has got one hell of a learning curve, too. I've been using it for so long and am STILL discovering new ways to use it. It can be intimidating, even after you go through all the tutorials.

Word

This also costs money, but sadly is not a one-time fee AND you need to invest in a bundle plan instead of just getting Word. Home subscriptions range from $70 to $100 a year, depending if you're getting it just for yourself or for your family/friends to use too. For me, I use it with my boyfriend and we use all the programs a bunch, so it works out well for us. This might work for you too if you're interested in having access to things like Excel and OneNote and cloud storage. But if you just want Word, that's not really feasible.

I haven't experienced this because I've stopped writing novel-length stories in Word, but I've heard from friends that the program slows down after 30k words or so, which is unfortunate and frustrating.

Furthermore, you can't really transition from file to file in Word as you can in Scrivener. You'd need to manage the folders on your computer outside of the program.

Word isn't really designed for book formatting. You CAN do it, but it takes some extra work on your end to format things accordingly, whereas Scrivener has a bunch of built-in features to help with that.

Microsoft is A LOT bigger than the Scrivener team, thus there are frequent updates. And because of that, you need to perform more updates to the program and might even need to reacquaint yourself with features and UI changes.

I hope this helps! Regardless of which program you wish to use, I hope it goes smoothly and you have a blast writing your stories on it!

[harley-the-pancake]

This is just a post to try and keep things organized on my blog. If you want to know my pronouns, name I go by, age, etc, just look in my bio. I just reblog and post whatever I want.

I don’t have an official dni, I just don’t give a fuck half the time, as long as you aren’t a dick to others, you can stay

I also don’t mind people using ideas that I have, making things off of the ideas or fics I have, or tagging me in silly @ games.

I also have a second account I occasionally use as a studyblr, which is Pancake-tries-college.

My AO3 is Pancake_Overlord

I have two side blogs:

@pancake-tries-college is where I keep my adulting stuff

@bite-sized-pancakes is where I keep my little stuff cause I think I may be an age dreamer 👍

My pfp is made by a picrew from @wervty

Dragons from @blu3b3rryj4mp1r3

Important sorting tags & glossary:

#vent chai latte - posts that are vents or emotional (I don’t always use it I am gonna be honest)

#diary posting - a new tag I’ll be using when I ramble about emotions, meds or just more personal things that are not about my school or friends (LATER HARLEY UPDATE: It is also becoming a bit of less fun school stuff tag, eg talking with professors, getting homework done, etc)

#Into the datemate pile - a tag that I use just to save & share things with my datemate, who does not have an active tumblr

#ph anon of the opera - my ask tag. It does not matter if you are anon or no, you are all ph anon in my eyes hearts (I also have a tendency of hoarding my asks but be free to still send me asks)

#ask game - just replies I’m saving from like descriptions of me or ask games

#my wife saga - my datemate is studying abroad then researching in idaho so I’m being dramatic. This will be happening for 3 months.

#holly on the wally - my tag for my dog Holly! You can block this if you want or if you don’t like dogs

Datemate, mice, jesus, ferret, random trans woman, my friend J, and last remaining cishet: all my irl friends codenames

Tell me if I need to tag anything for you

From @hee-blee-art

Posts that I feel like sharing:

A post I made about saving Rats SMP vods and led to some decent archives. I did nothing, but it has the link to the document that has a whole lot of links so!

A post I made with a document that I use to save a whole lot of MCC vods and a few VODs I have saved myself

Not an important post, however it’s a post I love and I want to keep on my pinned for when I want to see. It entails some games of One Night Ultimate Werewolf for my datemate’s birthday

This isn’t a post of mine, but I wanted to save Tumblr fairy tales

A ramble on the life series from my datemate. Read it. This is a threat /silly

A list of things to cheer anyone up ^-^

Candy for any trick or treaters who don’t want to send an ask

Best video ever

Datemate poll

[beautifulandvoid]

The Roommate Dilemma.

In which a slip of the tongue leads to a love confession 20 years in the making.

This was inspired by a conversation with @bobbyfloyd about a clip of Lew saying he was gonna beat his dick. This was not intended to be *opens Google Docs* 6439 words.... but here we are.

A huge humongous thank you to @peachy-27 for helping proofread this. This is my first time writing smut, so if it's bad, please let me know! Nicely, of course, please enjoy!

AFAB!Reader. Contains Smut, Fluff, and a teeny tiny amount of angst. Also mentions of Rhett's dad being an asshole. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Also, yes this was posted on Whirlwindwonder, that is meee. Tumblr freed my account from the depths of shadow banning, so now it will be posted here.

The air in Wabang was brutally cold, a biting chill that sliced through every layer of clothes and clung to your skin. It wasn't just the kind of cold you felt on the surface; it seeped deep into your muscles, wrapping itself around your bones and leaving you shivering to the core. Your old apartment creaked as you walked. It was warm enough, but with the fireplace going, it really warmed the space quickly. Your parents begged you to let them buy you, and “him” a small house. Their resentment for Rhett was due to an agelong family feud. You stood your ground, wanting to make a name for yourself, and you needed to do this for yourself, not have it handed to you.  You worked in marketing for the University of Wyoming, and part time at the bank in town, making enough to live comfortably in your home with Rhett. 

You and Rhett had been best friends since you were in diapers , despite your feuding families. You had been there for every rodeo you could, and those you couldn't you always called him before and after to wish him luck and congratulations. He came to your college graduation, though he stood in the back to avoid your family. Luke clocked him though and invited him over, he always liked that Rhett looked out for you. His parents had been reluctantly invited to your graduation party, and you were more than surprised when your parents were polite to them while they attended. You have also babysat Amy since she was born, even more now that Rebecca has disappeared. You have a feeling she ran off to get away from Perry, but you wouldn’t share that with Rhett. When your family found out you were moving in with Rhett, they about lost it. However they knew they couldn't stop you as you were an adult, they only ask that you don't bring him when you come over.

You walked in the door and shed the scarf and heavy coat you were wearing, only making it about a foot from the doorway when the door came crashing open. Rhett tumbled into the hallway and knocked you down with him. “Jesus Rhett, is a bull after you? Or is my dad outside?” you tease at him as you lay on the floor. As you look up at him, you realize that he's barely covered for the cold, wearing just a sweatshirt and a beanie. Feeling the comfort of his weight on top of you, lost in his eyes as your mind wanders, you can't help but want to kiss him.  So lost in your thoughts, you don't realize he's calling your name until he leans down, “TILLY! Are you even listening to me?” You startled back into reality, covering your ear. “Jesus Rhett, could you be any louder? Next time shake me.” He stood, pulling you up with him, spinning you around and checking for damage. “Sorry Tilly, you just keep zonin’ out. Did y’ hit your head hard? Do I need to take you to the doctor? It's fuckin’cold out. T’winds kickin’ up too” he breathes on his hands and rubs them together. 

You roll your eyes and walk into the kitchen and start the coffee pot to make hot chocolate for the two of you. “I’m fine Rhett, no bumps or bruises.” You call at him over your shoulder. He’d never admit it, but he loves the way you take care of him, the way you don't hesitate to make sure he has everything he needs. “I'm gonna go get into my pjs, you know how to stir right?” you poke at him while walking past him towards your bedroom. He stands there staring at you while you disappear into your bedroom. He sighs and walks up to the cabinet and pulls the mugs and cocoa out. “We ran out of the keurig cups, but we still have some packets leftover. How old are they? Well, that's unknown.” he calls over his shoulder as you reach your bedroom. 

He loves you, he does. But he's also known you since you were both in diapers. He was worried it'd ruin the relationship if he told you and you didn't love him back. Sure, you’ve told him you love him, but in the same way you tell your friends it. He doesn't hear you come back and you take the opportunity to poke his sides. “Agghh, damnit Tils, y’know I hate that!”, “and you know I hate being called Tils”. He holds your mug above you, and teases you by pretending to dump it on you. Your eyes narrow as you slowly back up, subtlety grabbing the marshmallows off the counter. “Are you sure about that cowboy? You want to start a war?” Wordlessly, he slightly lowers the mug, as he cocks his brow, before walking past you and towards the couch. “You wan't marshmallows or cocoa TIlly? Cant have both.” You follow him to the couch and plop by him. “We’re having cocoa, of course I can have both. Who doesn't have marshmallows in their cocoa.” He grunts as you grab the mug from him and toss the marshmallows at his face. “Rhett, why were you only in a sweatshirt and a beanie? It’s like 1 degree outside?” he scoffs and rolls his eyes, “well Tilly, if you must know I ripped my jacket on the fence and dad wouldn't let me come home and get a new one. Said I should toughen up and deal with the cold.” 

 You have to resist the urge to say that didn't surprise you, but you bite your tongue. You don't exactly have a great family dynamic with your dad either. “Maybe start keeping an extra in the truck, just to be safe” you say as you grab the throw blanket to toss over both of you. You had checked the forecast earlier and at least you won't get any snow, just the cold. So hopefully he remembers to put the coat in the truck. “Define ripped jacket? Depending on how bad it is I could probably patch it. Then you at least wouldn't be down a jacket.” He hums and gestures to the jacket on the hook in a “look for yourself” motion. He turns the TV on and starts the movie you'd been watching last night up again. “You think Jones would deliver in the cold? I really don't feel like cookin’ and I'm craving pizza?” he asks you halfway through your movie.

 You reach to grab your phone, asking Rhett “well I Can ask, the usual right?”. After the pizzas are delivered and you've consumed the entire thing, you grab the remote from him and turn on a chick flick. Something he claims to “hate” but still watches them with you. As you reach for the remote, you innocently brush against his crotch, and you can't miss how he adjusts after you settle back in. “Y’know, I can't believe that Tilly stuck. Seriously, you only called me that in Sunday school because you couldn't pronounce Virginia. And now, 19 years later, people still call me that.” You tease him as you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Well it's not like you've ever stopped me. The only name you hate being called more than Virginia is Tils. I'm the only one who calls you that, not that you don't threaten my life whenever I do.” He says pushing your shoulder, as he takes a swig of his beer. You once threatened to castrate him halfway through junior high after he embarrassed you by calling you it in front of Tommy Conoway after he asked you out. That started your first big fight, not only did he let your hated nickname slip, but he ruined the first time you'd ever been asked out. You didn't talk to him for two weeks, completely icing him out. He apologized by sneaking up the trellis outside your window with his mom's brownies and “Ten things I hate about you”. You forgave him when he admitted he talked to Tommy and got him to agree to go out with you again. That's what started the movie night tradition. You’ll never forget the next morning when your mother came to wake you and noticed Rhett was asleep on the floor. You’re pretty sure her screaming could've been heard by the Abbotts’ over a mile away. Although it is still incredibly funny when you remember Rhett scrambling out your window as your mother yelled for you father. 

 You alternate picking movies throughout the night, and halfway through your second pick, he stands up stretches, starts to walk away, “'m gonna go in the other room and beat my dick” He said before pausing, waiting for your reaction. You don't say anything so he says goodnight and walks into his bedroom. You watch as he walks down the hall and shuts the door. Once you hear the shower start, you adjust trying to not rub your thighs together after hearing it. You've been in love with him for years, but you can't ruin the friendship by telling him, so instead you just just imagine him between your thighs as you get yourself off. As you walk towards your bedroom after the movie ends, you can't help but think you heard Rhett say your name. You pause and wait to see if he says it again and when he doesn't you go into your own room for the night. 

The next morning Rhett creeped out of his room, hoping you didn't hear him last night. He reaches to grab a mug out to make himself some coffee and notices the pots already full. “So…Did you have fun beating your dick last night?” Catching him off guard as you spoke, watching as he whipped around to see you smirking around your coffee mug. “Holy shitting fuck Tilly, how long have you been there?” After a pause he coughs and speaks back up ”You heard that didn't you? Guess I didn't imagine sayin’ it out loud.” He says as his face flushed bright red. You laugh at him, “yeah you said it out loud.” You tease. “Rhett you act like we aren't adults, we both have urges” He rolls his eyes and walks up to the window to look outside. “What the fuck?” he says as he stares at the multiple feet of snow as more falls. “Yup, Mr. “no snow” weatherman was wrong. We have at least 3 feet already and they're predicting we'll get 8 by the end of the day.” you shoot at him, you're glad you went to the grocery store on monday, so you have food if you get stuck in for a few days. “No way I'm makin’ it to the ranch in this. Dad probably thinks I should be able to.” You laugh at him knowing he's right, luckily you can do your main job from home on your computer. Hopefully the power stays on long enough for you to work if needed. 

He walks back to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee and sits by you at the island. You have your laptop open checking your work email, seeing that classes had been canceled through the weekend. “At least we have plenty of food and wood for the fireplace. We don't have to shovel cause Mark said he’d take care of it for us. Said he's excited for a reason to use his new snowblower.” You explained before going into detail just like Mark had. “DId you know it has a Powerful 389cc Ariens AX 4 cycle engine with electric start and a 28 inch clearing width and 21 inch intake height? No, I do, he spent 30 minutes talking about it.” you tell him as you dig into your breakfast. “Did ya make me any? Ya didn't? What kinda roommate are you?” he teases you as he steals some bacon off your plate. “Hey, this is what I didn't have time to finish yesterday, mister. And besides you didn't get your fill of meat last night when you beat your dick?” 

He whips around with his jaw dropped as you laugh into your coffee. “What the fuck Tilly? You're gonna hold that over my head for the rest of our lives aren't you.” You shrug, “maybe, or maybe until we get free of the snow. I'll decide soon.” The landline starts ringing, and he moves to answer it. He grumbles that he's not going to make it, and does not see the snow. “'m literally snowed in, unless you plan to come get me I'm not going’ to get there. 's not a debate.” He hangs up the phone, trying to not slam it down on the receiver.

He rubs his hand down his face and grumbles obscenities into his coffee. You grab his hand as he sits back down and lean onto his shoulder. He throws his arm around you and tugs you in as best he can without yanking you off the stool. “He’ll get over it. Perry can help, the freeloader should pull his weight already.” He grumbles into your hairline, as he squeezes you. Perry gets away with everything in his parents eyes, you still can't understand how he did not get jail time for killing Trevor. Although he was an asshole, he was still your brother. You only slightly tolerated him so you could keep seeing and babysitting Amy. She loves coming over to do girls day and get her nails done with you. You even have special face masks for her so they won't damage hair skin but she still gets to participate and do spa days. You’ve tried to be a big sister to her, especially with Rebecca gone, all she has is Cecilia, so you want her to know she has a safe space and someone to talk to. 

“How about a movie day? We don't have anything else to do, we can also make the cookies you like…” you say as you make your way to the couch. He perks up at the thought of the cookies, and immediately slides across the floor to the couch to it by you. You laugh at him as he stares at you expectantly. “Not yet Rhett, hold your horses” He plops onto the couch like a kicked puppy, and whines about how he wants the cookies. “You'll get 'em eventually, calm down boy.” He grabs the remote from you and turns on the news to check in on the snow totals, “yeah 3.5 feet and he thinks I can make it in my beat up truck” he grumbles, “that's it, no more talk about your dad,my dad or any family. We’re going to have a stress free day.” He smirks up at you, and settles back in. The two of you made it through several movies before you heard a motor outside.

 Rhett gets up to look, and immediately ducks after opening the curtain. “Damn, he saw me. How long do you think before he's at the door talkin’ my ear off about that damn snowblower?” He moved back towards you and only made it a few steps before the doorbell rings. He hangs his head before turning around and opening the door.

 “Hey Mark, thanks for blowing the drive for us. We’ll have cookies for you later, it's Tilly’s brown butter ones too, the good ones” he stands chatting with Mark, as he has to listen to the same spiel you had to. While he was chatting you made your way to the kitchen and started pulling the ingredients out. Rhett heard you and as politely and quickly as he could dismiss Mark to come help you. “Hey! You can't start without me! I'm your super assistant! I better get to lick the beaters this time! YOU missy got them last time.” He calls at you as he rounds the corner to the kitchen. “Well, it took Mark 30 minutes to stop talking to me about it so I figured I had some time. And I got them last time because YOU were at your parents house while I made them.” You shoot back while sticking your tongue out at him. He grabs the rest of the ingredients down for you and you can't help but stare as his shirt lifts and you see the v in his hips. Holy jesus are you screwed. 

As the two of you make the cookies you can't help but hold Rhett's hands or touch his fingers for longer than necessary, god were you truly in love with him. As you put the last batch in the oven, Rhett has disappeared. “Rhett, where'd you go?” you glanced down the hall and the bathroom door was open and so was his door, so where did he go? You walk around the house looking for him, and can't find him anywhere. As you walk back to the kitchen you call out his name, still unable to find him “Rhett, seriously where are you-” “RAAAAAAAAAA!” Rhett screams as he jumps out from behind the side of the fridge. You collapse to the floor in the fetal position, as he stands laughing over you. “Jeez Tilly, you look like you saw a ghost?’ he teases as he bends down to help you up. “You jackass, I thought you had disappeared. I was worried!” You take his hand and pull him down to the floor with you, as you both lay on the floor laughing. “Sorry Tilly, but I had to. Y’kept teasing me” he teases as he lies by you. “You're lucky I love you. Like really love you.” you say while turning to look at him. “Why’d you say it like that?” “like what?”.

 He's now hovering over you as you blush fully. “Tilly, what do you mean by really love me?” You clear your throat and as you are about to speak the oven timer goes off and he stands to take the cookies out. He sets the tray on the stove and turns around to look at you. You stand there awkwardly as you rub your arms. “I love you Rhett, like love you love you. Not the way I say I love you to my friends. I love you. And not as a friend.” You look at him while he doesnt say anything. You breathe out as he doesn't say anything so you walk into your bedroom and shut the door in embarrassment. God you had just ruined your relationship with him, he's not going to want to live with you anymore and you’ll have to move back with your parents. Rhett stands in the kitchen as his brain finally computes what you said and realizes he didn't say it back. Shit, he didn't say it back, he watched you walk away without saying anything. Shit. 

He hurries down the hall and knocks on your door. As he's waiting for you to answer, he's running through his head on what to do. You open the door and it's obvious you've been crying, “Rhett, you don't have to say anything. We can just pretend I didn't say anything. I understand if you want to-” “I love you too. I have our whole lives, but I never thought you could love me back. So I never said anything’.” You both chuckle, and realize that you could've had each other for years, and never knew it. “Can I kiss you please Virginia? Please?” He’s using your actual name, not the nickname he stuck you with when you were kids. “You better cowboy, I've only waited 20 years” He steps in closer to you and leans in and presses his lips to yours. Your heart flutters and the world stops spinning as it becomes just the two of you. He steps you back towards your bed and gently pushes you down as he lays out on top of you. 

As he pulls away, you smile up at him and try to shy away. “Hey. No no, I just got you. Don't hide from me now. If my breath smells I'll go pop a mint in” he teases at you. You smile back up at him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He pulls you in as you do,  “Was that my name I heard last night after you left me on the couch?” he groans and buries his head into your neck. “Yeah… that doesn't make me gross does it? 'm sorry, but I just never imagined I could have you truly.” You run his hands through his hair and gently pull him up to look in his eyes. “Well if it does,that makes me one too. Sounds bad but the only way I can get off is picturing’ you between my thighs.” He smirks at you like the Cheshire cat. He runs his hands down your sides and looks up at you when he gets to the hem of your shirt. You nod at him and he puts his hands under your shirt and slides up towards your chest. 

You tilt your head down and capture him in a kiss and he moves to flip the two of you. He looks at you and you notice his eyes have darkened. “You can take it off Rhett. Maybe the set is in your favorite color.” you tease. He groans and pulls your shirt off and plops back when he realizes it is his favorite color. He rolls his hips as you grind into him, “shit darling. Wait.” You look down at him as he begins to speak again. “Are you sure? I don't wanna pressure you into anything too fast. We can take it slow.” he says as he rests his hands on your hips. You slide off him and rush out of the bedroom and through the bathroom to his, disappearing from his view.  “Uh darling, what are you doing?” he’s confused as he starts to hear “save a horse ride a cowboy, “I mean yeah I have some condoms but like not that many…..” he trails off as you walk back into view wearing his cowboy hat and swinging the condoms. You’ve ditched your pants and smirk at him, as the chorus of the song hits.  “This totally counts as stealing your hat for the rule, I declare that a house rule.” as you walk back to him you notice him readjusting, you hop back on top of him.

He grips your hips and flips you back over and kisses down your chest. “uh, did you buy this set with me in mind, or does it just happen to be my favorite color?” he teases as he makes it to your thighs. “You are far too dressed cowboy, how come I'm the one pretty much naked?” He chuckles and stands, he strips off his shirt and ditches his jeans as fast as he humanly can. “You didn't answer me, there Tilly. Did you buy this with me in mind?” he teases as he pauses before pulling his boxers down, and looks up at you. “Are you sure you want to? I won't be offended if you change your mind or you think we're movin’ too fast.” he waits for you to respond and you reach up and pull him down and reconnect your lips. He pulls you in closer and reaches up and unhooks your bra without disconnecting from your lips. You feel him push his boxers down and you push him up to help. “Holy fuck Rhett. There's no way that's fitting in me.” 

He chuckles at you before running his hands down to your thong and waiting for you to give the ok. He pulls them off and tosses them over his shoulder, hopefully you can find them, you like this set. He pulls you to the edge of the bed by your thighs, and you sit up to protest. “Rhett, you don't have to. I don't want you to do some-” you cut yourself off as he runs his fingers through your folds. You gasp as he slides two fingers into you, fuck, you grab his hair as his fingers curl just right. “Fuck Tilly, you know how much I've dreamed about this, havin’ you under me, makin’ you feel good.” He speeds up his fingers as he feels you clench down on him. You grip his hair as he moves to put his mouth on you, “Fuck Rhett, holy fuck. Fuck, fuck”. He speeds up his fingers as you grip even harder and arch your back off the bed. The band snaps and you collapse back onto the bed. 

He pants as he runs his hands back down your thighs and pulls you impossibly closer. He dives back in like a man starved and rubs your clit as he digs his fingers into the spot that makes you see stars and curl your toes. You feel the pressure of needing to pee and try to push him off. “Rhett, c’mon. It feels like I need to pee”. He grips you harder and shoves his face in, “nu uh, c’mon give it to me. You’ll like what's coming”. He presses just right and you grip his hair, and squirt on his face. You collapse to the bed panting.

You pant as he cleans you up with his tongue. “Damn Tilly” He stands up licking his fingers. He swipes down his face pulling your juices off his face and into his mouth. Once out of your haze, you open your eyes back up to him standing over you, you reach for him and slide your hand onto his dick. You start to pull when his hand is over yours pausing you, “You don't have to Tilly.” You don't say anything, but you slide down and slide his dick into your mouth. His hands are instantly in your hair and you can feel him trying to not get too rough. You bob your head down his shaft and his grip on your hair gets harder. “Fuck, Tilly. 'm gonna come. Shit, fuck where?” He tries to pull out of your mouth, and you grip his hips harder and not let him move. He groans and comes down your throat as you slide back. He stands over you before pulling you up and plopping you in the middle of the bed. He grabs the condoms off the floor, “Jesus Tilly,” he says as he realizes how many you had grabbed, “Do y’think we're gonna last 12 rounds?”. You laugh at him while ripping one off the strip. You rip it open and glance up at him, “you or me?”. He chuckles and takes the condom from you and rolls it down himself. 

He lines himself up and pauses looking at you to confirm you still want this. You nod and he pushes in. “holy fuck Rhett. You’re huge, jesus” “Fuck Tilly, so fuckin’tight. Shit.” He waits to let you adjust then pushes in further. When he bottoms out he waits for you to give the ok to keep moving. “Rhett if you don't fuckin’ move i will cut yout dick off. Ive waited 10 years for you to fuck me, so you better not be slow about it.” You demanded, before he cut you off by thrusting into you causing your eyes to roll back. You roll your hips up into him, and he pushes you back down.

 “Nope, you wanted me to fuck you, so thats exactly what I’ll do.” he smirks over you. He pulls your leg up around his hip and increases the speed of his thrusts. You grab his shoulders, raking your nails down leaving obvious signs, as he continues to hit your sweet spot. Moaning for each other as he pulls out, leaving you whining from the sudden emptiness just as you started to protest, you were cut off as he pulled you to the edge of the bed and lined himself back up with you, pushing back into you.  “Fuck Rhett, holy fucking shit.” you moaned, as he thrusted at a new angle, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

As his thrusts get more rapid, he reaches down to start rubbing your clit. You can feel the band tightening again, and you yank him into a kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer. He can feel you around him, “come on baby, come on. Cum f’me.” he whispers in your ear. The band tightens impossibly tight and the second he hits your clit just right, it explodes. You fall apart around him and you feel him right behind you. 

He pulls out of you, moving to sit against your pillow, pulling you on top of him. “C’mon darling. You played the song, you better ride the cowboy.” You roll your hips as he groans, and helps you slide down onto him.  “You think I can last more than 8 seconds cowboy? You're the big bad bull this time.” You groan as you pull his hat back onto your head. He grips your hips as he helps you move faster, “Fuck TIlly. Yeah I'll be your bull anytime. I hope you can stay on longer than 8 seconds.  ‘Could make a whole scorin’ sheet for you.” he teases at you. You feel the band tightening again, and he reaches down and starts rubbing your clit again. He rubs faster as he realises you're close. He slides his hand up to your neck to pull you down and he can't help but feel you clench harder as he lightly squeezes it. He pulls out and flips you over as you protest, pulling you up to your knees.

He hushes you before sliding back home into you, and railing you into the mattress. You can feel the band tightening again, he smacks your hand away as he notices you trying to bring it to your clit. He slides his fingers between your folds and presses down. The band snaps and you feel him groan against your neck as you feel his hips stutter. He pulls out and gently flips you onto your back. He lays on top of you and you think you’ve died and gone to heaven. The two of you lay there for what seems like hours just basking in the revelations of what just happened. “So, that was most definitely worth the wait for 10 years.” You say while stroking his hair. You feel him chuckle against your chest, he lifts his head up and rolls his hips to pull out of you. He walks into the bathroom to toss the condom and comes back to pick you up and help you to the bathroom.

“C’mon, we gotta get you cleaned up”. You groan as you don't want to leave the warmth of your bed. As he tossed in some Epsom salt, and one of the bath bombs he got you for christmas, you got ready to soak in the tub. You're glancing up at him when he turns around to help you into the tub, before sliding in behind you. You settle into his chest as he wraps his arms around you.  “Hi there. so, what do we do now?” he says after a while. You smirk into his arm and take a second. “Round three? We could do it right here. Always wanted to do it in a tub.” He groans as he rubs his nose into your hair. “You know damn well what I meant. I wanna take you on a date. A proper date.” He pushes you forward and tilts your head back towards him to look you in the eye. “I want you to take me out too. Not here though, maybe in Cheyenne. We don’t need the prying eyes just yet.” 

He hums into your hair and pulls you back into his arms. The town already gossips about if the two of you were together. Virginia Tillerson and the man-whore of Wabang, and the buckle bunnies never leave him alone which just further flames the name they've given him. If they only knew how sweet your cowboy was. Hmm, your cowboy, you definitely like the sound of that. He kisses the top of your hair as you fall back into a comfortable silence. You speak up after a few moments, almost too quiet for him to hear, “you called me Tils on purpose in front of Tommy didn’t you. You never wanted me to go out with him, right?”. He hesitates before humming in agreement, “yeah, God it took everything in me. Groveln’ to him and get him to agree to go back out with you.” He puts his hands back on your hips, wrapping them around you.

You feel his hands drift down towards your folds again. You adjust and let him in. He gently rubs your clit again, and slides his fingers in as he turns your head to kiss you. He brings you to yet another orgasm and hums into your hair in satisfactory vibrations.  After a while he leans forward and pulls the plug and steps out to grab a towel. Offering his hand to help you up, as well as a towel, drying you off. When you step out of the tub, your legs give out. Thinking God you're like a fawn on ice. He was quick to pick you up, carrying you to his room bridal style, before setting you on his bed. Grabbing a shirt, he carefully moved to help you get it on, before pulling away to get dressed himself, slipping into a pair of boxers and sweats on.  

Looking down at you, Rhett offers his hand. “Nope, you're gonna carry me cowboy. You fucked me hard enough i think, no I know, I’ve lost control of my legs.” he chuckles at you and pulls you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “RHETT!! This isn’t what I meant you dork.” you gasp out as you hit his back in protest. He chuckles and carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the counter. You gasp as the cold countertop hits you, “Yeah but I wanted a sweet treat. And not yours.” he smirks as he hands you one. You gasp and look at him as he takes a bite of the cookie. “Hmmm, they're somehow even better.” He wraps his arms around you as you hook your leg around his hip.”’bout that date. I was thinkin’ I have a rodeo there soon an’ if the snow lets up. I say we get a nice hotel room, not the dingy ones we normally stay in.” You smile into him as he picks you up and carries you to the couch. “Sounds like a plan cowboy. Not to ruin the mood, but you couldn't have grabbed me underwear, huh? It's cold in here!” You tease him as he pulls a blanket over the two of you. “See now you're covered, but I can think of a few ways we can warm up” He says as he rolls his hips up into yours. 

“Yeah I think of a few ways to.  We're gonna need more condoms though. Your mom may have been wanting us together since we were kids, but if you got me knocked up right now, my dad would kill you.” you tease at him as he laughs. “Think I'm kidding cowboy? He’d chase after you and beat you with the oxygen tank. And my brothers? Oh boy, they'd string you up by your balls.” He stops laughing as you say that and goes pale. He slowly reaches over to grab the remote and turns on the tv. You laugh at him as he goes white, you have to admit it would be hilarious to see your dad try to chase after him. “Could you imagine? My mama having to tell the church that I got a girl pregnant out of wedlock?”. He teases you as he sets you back on the couch so he could stoke the fireplace, after he feels you shivering. “Well no, because she'd make us get married before anyone could find out. That or she’d kill us, maybe both.” You shoot back at him while wrapping the blanket around yourself. 

“It's pretty cold, here hold on” he said before disappearing down the hall before returning with a pair of sweatpants. Offering his hand to you, to help you off the couch, helping you keep balanced as you slip into the sweatpants. You both settle into the couch, Rhett's arm wrapping back around you, pulling you into his side. You settle into his chest as he strokes your hair. You find yourself drifting off and he pulls you closer and kisses you. “I love you, truly Tilly.” Causing you to look up at him sleepily, resting your chin on his chest. “I love you too, Rhett. More than you’ll ever know.” You didn't know how your families would react to the news. You knew your brothers would try to kill him, but you'd set them straight. His momma and Amy will most definitely be happy, especially since Amy already calls you “Aunt Tilly” and Cecelia calls you her baby anyway. She always has, so you know she’ll immediately start wedding planning. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if she already had started planning years ago. 

As you laid together, you played back the last 24 hours and everything that happened. Him slipping up and the snow trapping you inside, the confession of your love and the very, very, very good sex. You will most definitely not be able to walk tomorrow (so worth it). All because you get your cowboy finally. You felt him tighten his arms around you as the credits finally end for the movie. You know that he’ll keep you safe and loved, and that's all you need. It didn't matter where you lived, all that mattered was that the two of you had each other. Hopefully now the buckle bunnies will leave him alone at the rodeos when they see you wearing his hat, and any marks he leaves. You’ll most definitely need to find a way to sneak back to see him before he rides now.  You settle back into his arms and drift off. You feel him kiss your head and snuggle into your hair. To think, all because he slipped up by saying he was gonna beat his dick. Now you get to love him openly for the rest of your lives. 

Thank you all for reading! Please feel free to reblog, but do not post anywhere else. It will be cross posted on my Ao3 under ElizaKasansky86. That is the only other place where you will see any of my works.

Baby tag list: @bobbyfloyd @sebsxphia @rhettmotel

[400legends]

The Key, the Gear, the Room (Day 181)

The Java Data Center 21 cafe - the virtual cafe, I should say - was filled with the glorious notes of Hanadarian composer Misha Mali's opera, The Winsome Widow. My new wireborn friend, Marty, grinned at me and said, "OK Doctor Quinn, of all the places you could go, you picked the JDC? Do you know how many corridors there are on the station, how many rooms?"

I shrugged. "This is just a test of our VR rigs. But my friends are here. Uh, there. The other JDC. The real-- Well no, this is real. This feels real."

The music volume changed to a soft undercurrent to our conversation. Marty shook his head. "First time, huh? I guess I should have guessed. Are you really a Proxy?"

"Oh yes. Thank you for asking that, actually because.... I mean, you see...." I hadn't thought to use this visit into VR as a reconnaissance opportunity, but here was an opening. I began again. "The Curators, my creators, they gave us the directive to explore, to seek and to see, to experience, and then to return to Olara to share the bounty of all those moments." I paused, suddenly a little overwhelmed by the thought of the home I had never seen.

"That's beautiful, man." Marty nodded. "That's deep."

"And something that I want to explore is the Veeruxian culture. Any, uh, pointers on that?"

Marty froze for just a moment. "Hold. That. Thought." Six seconds later he said, "I don't get you. Your vibe is cop, but you're clean. My sweeps would find anything if you were layered. So, Veerux, huh? I mean, I think they're real. Nacora's a big, big, big place, right? It's a galaxy, man. Anything that can happen, will happen. So why not a murderous society built on baseless prejudices?"

"I understand that there are places here, in the virtual reality, where people costume play as Veerux. It's too much to hope that you know anything about that?"

Marty laughed and clapped his hands. "Best moment of the day, of the week, talking with you. Are you, like, fresh out of the tank or whatever? Listen, VR is good for two things: sex and violence. The safety protocols prevent violence unless you go into a room where safeties are off. What you're looking for, the safeties are off, way, way off."

"I understand."

"I'm not sure you do but alright. You like opera; you like Mali, so you're OK in my book. Find the corridor, get a key, and I dunno, try not to die, Doc."

***

Everyone returned ladened with weapons, armor, and gear. Cosmic Peanut handed me a carbon fiber breastplate and the plasma batteries I'd asked for. I transferred funds to her account as she asked about the VR rigs. I related the essence of Marty's advice.

Merrin said, "The dark web will have the info we need. Let's take a look." It took EDI's help to find what we wanted, but we located the cosplay room and a key code. "Not exactly subtle about this," muttered Merrin. "We should have told EDI to throw up about 800 aliases."

I said, "If we can help rescue Cosmic Peanut's parents from that Veerux prison ship, it's worth whatever risk."

"You really think that crashing a cosplay room is somehow going to help? I mean, you might be right. Six months ago I didn't think Veerux were real, and now they're blowing up planets."

"Allegedly," said EDI. "The investigations are still ongoing into the cause or causes of the destruction of Hanadaria."

"Point taken, EDI," I said. "And to your point, Merrin, that's exactly my rationale - very few people know anything about the Veerux. It's all legend or thousand year old reports, wild rumor. Trying to gauge Veeruxian armor and weaponry from what a group of coplayers are doing seems as valid as anything else."

Just then Cosmic Peanut's voice came over the comms. "Quinn, Merrin, any luck?"

"Indeed, Captain," I said. "We know the corridor and the room."

"We just need 600 credits to get the key," added Merrin.

Before Cosmic Peanut could react I said, "Captain, I have 15,575 ill-gotten credits. I will buy the key."

Requiem came on the comms. "We can all pitch in. Let's meet at the rigs. I'm almost positive that we're on the right track."

When we'd all gathered in the hangar, Requiem said, "That picture Quinn found of the cosplayer - I don't think that is just coding. I think that's real armor 3-D scanned into VR. This AlphaRuxMore, he's got real Veeruxian armor. I'd bet on it."

"You are betting," said CP. "600 credits' worth."

"Yeah," said Esmae, "I've been thinking about our budget. I don't think that this AlphaRuxMore is going to welcome a Glabrau or a Maeshar and certainly not a Hanadarian. We're going to need to buy skins."

"And weapons," I said. "My friend Marty said that VR is only good for sex and violence."

"He's not wrong," said the captain. "But I don't usually need to take out a loan when I jack in."

20,000 credits later we were outfitted with Demosian bodies, Veeruxian costumes, and - just in case - weapons. I'd gone cheap on the body and unintentionally cheap on the costume. I'd shown the Ixian shopkeeper a picture of the red priest we'd met way back on Lush, and moments later, for 250 credits, I had a robe almost identical to the picture.

Cosmic Peanut had opted to be similar to a character from F&F LXIII named "Lil' Ryan." "Little" due to being a toddler. "For a hundred credits, it's the perfect disguise," she insisted. "And besides," she added, "I wanted something I could use again." To the Ix she said, "Make me a baby monk."

Esmae was a male Demosian with dark hair and a scar. She picked a Veeruxian warrior outfit that was based on a cartoon she found. The boots had curved spikes at the front and 3 inch soles. There were spikes along the outside of her arms and legs.

Requiem studied Esmae's avatar. "I'm thinking fewer spikes, more grace, more...." She flexed her virtual body. "More movement." She held the picture of AlphaRuxMore out to the Ix. "What is this going to cost me?"

"Those dings in the armor don't come cheap," said the Ix. "2,300 credits."

Requiem silently nodded. She'd already spent over 4,000 credits for her Demosian body.

"I'll get weapons for us," I said before I looked at the prices. A disruptor shotgun cost 4,500 credits. A pistol was only - only! 2,000 credits. "Um, so I can afford two shotguns and two pistols."

"This is real money for fake things!" said Cosmic Peanut.

"I can't think of a better way to use the money I stole from the casino," I said. "Better to be prepared. No safeties, remember?"

A few minutes later my words came back to me. We stood in front of a door, and as Requiem touched the handle, a giant message popped up: “Safeties are off beyond this door. Select Yes if you understand.”

[petersnya]

obviously obsessed | peter p

i just found this blurd in my google docs and had to post it! idk y I didn’t post it earlier like I’m in love with this + it feeds my Peter Parker obsession and my HAYDEN FUCKING CHRISTENSEN obsession 😻 full oneshot coming soon!!

“Are you kidding me right now?” your eyes were glued to the movie playing in front of you, revenge of the sith, as a smirk moved to your lips. The annoyed voice of Peter sounded in your ears. “What?”, you asked with a shrug- even though you knew exactly what he was on about.

Well, more importantly, Anakin Skywalker.

You always loved anakin- even when he joined the side of the siths. But now it was different. Anakin was what was always on your mind. Then you got a boyfriend.

Don't get me wrong.. You and Peter were like best friends and the perfect couple. You two fit together like puzzle pieces…in many ways. Your interest was his interest, and vice versa. It was amazing to have someone have such a passion for the things you loved dearly. But there were always problems in a relationship.

“I can't watch this anymore with you.”

“W-what? Why?” your gaze struggled to tear from the screen as you stood to follow Peter who had quickly stood from the coach and down the narrow hall of your parents house. The sound of you bare feet chasing after Peter echoed in the hall.

“Dude, what's up with you?” you let out a chuckle once you and peter reached your closed room door. He turned to face you quickly, “everytime we watch a movie with Hayden fucking Christensen in it, you always zone out!- you look like you wanna fuck him through the tv,” you and peter sat in and awkward silence for a few seconds, then his eyes widened at the realization- “oh my fucking-”

“I'm kidding! Not really but I ammm!”

You couldn't lie.. Hayden Christensen was the world finest man. There was no changing that- hell, he was the universe's finest man. Even Peter could see that. But he couldn't help but feel jealous when you would mention him. Or when he would be on your phone. Your lockscreen was a picture of you, Peter and you brother- the three of you dressed as star wars characters, standing in the middle of universal studios with lightsabers. But when you unlocked your phone, there was a huge widget of hayden christensen- other people were in the picture, but you scribbled their faces out. And whenever Peter went to scroll through your tiktok page, all that was there were edits of Anakin, or other characters he played like Stephen Glass from shattered glass- Lorenzo from Virgin Territory (which was a very bad movie but Hayden was so hot in it.) Some edits you had on your fyp of the released film for the Avengers fights that people edited. Majority of them were even Spider-Man edits.. Just not nearly enough for Peter's liking.

You even had your own edit account for Star Wars (more specifically, Anakin) which you got pretty good at, but I mean who wouldn’t? Its Hayden fucking Christensen.

“Ok, ok I’m sorry. But you have celebrity crushes too!”

“Yea but i'm not obsessed with them,” you scoffed at this claim, even though it was true. Peter let out a dry laugh as he opened the door to your room and marched over to your closet.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you followed behind him. He then pulled out a big black sweatshirt that you had got from some instagram small business that was anakin inspired. It has a pretty sick picture of him in it and the quote of his from ROTS ‘you underestimate my power.’ He then pulled from behind his back your own version of a lightsaber that was in the picture of your lock screen.

“Oh come on.. It's a damn sweatshirt- and you have Anakin's version of a lightsaber! We got them together. I'm a big fan, what can I say,” you said with a smile and a shrug. Peter holds up a finger and walks over to your bed. You folded your arms and waited.

“And this?” you gazed over at him with a calm expression that soon washed away- your mouth fell open.

“Where did you find that?” you questioned as you rushed over to grab the blanket he was holding. It was a huge blanket that you had under your comforter every night. It had haydens face all over it. Your face went red as Peter stared at you with a glint in his eyes. You groaned and tossed the blanket on your bed.

“Alright, I might have a problem,” you walked over to Peter and hugged him, “but you're still my ani.”

“I'll let it slide just this once,” Peter hugged you back and kissed your cheek gently with such love and compassion.

But you were serious. You were the padme to his anakin.. Before episode III.