#i'm doing the rich part of the town first so i need to figure out who lives there

[moonchild-in-blue]

Okay but do YOU research architecture/interior designs styles and movements to completely remodel your Sims' houses?

Get on my level 🫵

[not-neverland06]

𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

A/N: my stupid poor-people photo editing app stopped working so now my cropping is all off and I'm sad. My aesthetic 😭

Summary: Something brews between you and Arthur, but as always, the camp comes first. Despite the growing tension, Arthur must leave to rescue one of the gang who'd been separated in Blackwater. Jealously brews as a loud-mouth Irishman returns to camp and sets his sights on you.

Micah’s cough echoes through the camp and you wince at the sound. “He needs to see a doctor before he gets the rest of us sick.”

Arthur shakes his head and sighs, “Caught somethin’ from the Downes fella in town.” He passes you some coffee which you take eagerly. It’s part of a strange morning ritual you’d begun with him a few weeks ago. Just after the hunting trip, you’d taken to having breakfast with him if he happened to be in camp that morning. It’s become your favorite way to start the day.

You smirk slightly and nudge his side. “You’re welcome.”

He laughs and shakes his head at you, “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” you start with a teasing tone. “If I hadn’t needed a gentlemanly escort into town for some shopping, it would have been you calling in on those loans.”

He opens his mouth to argue but it stays hanging as you see the cogs turning in his head. He snaps his jaw shut with a reluctant sigh, “Suppose you’re right.”

“I always am,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur just laughs, passing you some bread. You hear a familiar set of footprints pacing outside the tent and roll your eyes, turning towards the entrance. 

Sure enough, Mrs. Grimshaw paces around the perimeter of Arthur’s tent like a cougar. She sniffs when she catches your eye and turns her nose to the air, wholly pretending she hasn’t been stalking you. 

“Shoo!” Arthur shouts, waving her off. 

You let out a bewildered laugh, smacking his arm. “Arthur, stop,” you hiss, but you don’t sound very stern as you giggle at Mrs. Grimshaw’s affronted look. 

“Go on,” he keeps going, pushing her further. “Get,” he snaps like he’s talking to a wild animal. Mrs. Grimshaw says something you can’t quite catch and stomps her foot once before running off. 

You press a hand over your mouth, fingers pinching your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. Arthur looks at you for approval and you only shake your head. “Come on,” he tries, “she’s been botherin’ us all mornin’. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s not a dog, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He teases and you swat at his arm again. 

You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh. “I truly think she hates me,” you whisper, pouring yourself a little more coffee. 

“She don’t hate you,” he reassures. You tilt your head with a deadpan look and he chuckles. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Just because I married rich doesn’t mean I had an easy life.”

“I know that,” he objects. 

You look up from your mug and furrow your brows. “Do you? You think I don’t see the way you look at me? You see the same softness they do. I just can’t figure out whether you like it or resent me for it.”

The playfulness of the morning is long gone. You seem to have a knack for ruining the moment. This question, though, has been haunting you for a while. Dutch is passive in his disdain for your upbringing—snide comments here and there but nothing quite so obvious. 

A few of the girls question you about the privileges of being a lady a little too long for comfort. Then, the conversation will end with one of them sniffing and saying, “Must have been a nice life. Too bad you’re stuck with us now.” 

There are always small moments like that to break the ridiculous idea you’ve got in your head, that you belong. No matter how hard you try to tell them, they don’t seem to understand that this freedom is better than anything money could have bought you. Your life hasn't been your own since the moment you were born. Sure, being on the run from the law and fighting for every penny wasn’t fun. But moments like these with Arthur would never happen if you were back at your estate. 

With the others, it’s easy enough to see their resentment. But Arthur’s better at keeping his cards close to his chest. It took a while for you both to settle into something easy like this. Most of the time you don’t spend more than half an hour together a day. You don’t have a good enough read on him to determine whether or not he holds your past against you. 

Sometimes, you think you might see just a hint of bitterness when he catches a glimpse of the smooth skin of your palms. But you never know if that’s real or something your paranoid mind has conjured up. 

Arthur swirls his mug in his hand, a bit of the coffee splashing over the edge as it does. You squirm uncomfortably in your spot beside him. The sun has begun to heat up the canvas tent, but you know that’s not why you’re sweating. 

He gives you a gentle smile that eases some of the dread building up in your chest. “I don’t care either way. And you shouldn't give a damn what the rest of these fools think. It’s what you’ve done with your life, with your money, that matters.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You mean my father's money, and then my husband’s money. It was never mine. That’s why I care what they think. I’m dealing with their judgments every damn day and they know nothing about the truth of it all. I was a commodity, practically cattle to those men.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in that familiar way they do whenever you talk about the men of your old life. It doesn’t bother you to talk about them because you’re used to it and they’re gone. But you know it makes Arthur angry to think about it. 

You’ve grown comfortable with each other, but it’s still a cold shock when he casually touches you. You glance down, eyes wide, as you see his palm covering your own. You look back up with a soft smile. “You’re smart, Arthur. Smarter than half the people here give you credit for. And far kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. " Your heart kicks up a beat when you see the way he refuses to meet your eye. 

You’ll compliment him a million times a day if only to get him to start believing you. And maybe so you can keep watching that pink flush on his cheeks. 

“That’s enough of that,” his voice is gruff with something you can’t quite name. Having enough sense to know when to stop you hold your hands up in surrender. 

“Only saying the truth,” but you never can seem to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit further. Arthur shoots you a sharp look and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. You can see him start to wind up and prepare yourself for the brief scolding you’re about to receive. Once he’s done with that, maybe you’ll do what you’ve wanted for so long and ask him to accompany you to Strawberry. 

You’ve been trying to work up the nerve as your last two outings haven’t gone wonderfully. You’re hoping a redo might help the both of you grow just a little closer. Besides, being away from camp seems to be beneficial to you both. 

Approaching footsteps bring your conversation to an awkward halt. They’re not the heavy foot of Mrs. Grimshaw. This is someone else, someone much more welcome. You turn and smile at Charles as he hovers at the entrance of Arthur’s tent. Arthur scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite make out, but it makes Charles grin. 

Charles gives you a brief nod but his intentions are meant for Arthur. “Whaddya want?” Arthur snaps impatiently. 

“Trelawney came back,” Charles answers shortly and your face pinches in confusion. Trelawney? You roll the name around in your mind but you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in camp mention him. 

Arthur’s head perks up, the frown on his face softening just ever so slightly, but it's replaced by something more bitter. Curiosity or nosiness, you’re not sure, but rather than give in to the rules of common decency you don’t leave them to finish their conversation alone.  

You try to lean back, pretending you’re not there so they’ll keep talking. “The hell did he want?” Arthur barks, tone still rudely short. You wonder what happened between him and Charles, they seemed to get along well enough a few weeks ago. 

Charles's gaze darts briefly to you but he continues, “He’s got news about Sean. Says he knows where to find him.” Now, that name you know, if only through vague mentions. You know Karen does her damndest to keep a mention of Sean out of everyone’s mouths. And that he made it out of Blackwater alive but got separated from the rest of the gang. Other than that, you don’t know much about him. 

Arthur gets to his feet and Charles backs away a few paces, leaving the two of you relatively alone again. Arthur looks down at you, something like disappointment on his face. “You need to go,” you assume before he can say anything. 

He nods and you give him an expectant smile, “Then you better get moving, cowboy. I’ll be here when you get back.” He lingers for a moment like there’s more he wants to say. But your mornings together have always been short, you can’t imagine why that would have changed today.

He sucks in a sharp breath before nodding and heading towards Charles. You watch him go, your plans for the day being tucked away. You’ll ask him to town another time. As long as it’s anywhere but Valentine. 

A prissy throat clears behind you and your head sinks between your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Time to get movin’,” Mrs. Grimshaw commands, with far too much glee in her voice. 

You’re sitting on an overturned bucket, running someone’s pants across the washboard. You hate doing this, especially in the brisk of the early morning. Your fingers have already pruned up from the frigid water and you can barely feel them anymore. 

Your gaze drifts to your right, where the heaping pile of laundry lies, and you consider running off with Lady. You know whatever other chores Mrs. Grimshaw would come up with in retaliation would be a million times worse, but it almost seems worth it at this point. 

You dismiss the idea, deciding to honor the unspoken rule of ladies staying in camp, and continue scrubbing. You think this might be Arthur’s blue shirt. You notice a few fraying edges and holes and make a note to fix them up for him once it’s dry. You only hope you don’t stumble across Uncle’s clothes while you’re doing this. That man has got stains in places that make you want to throw them in the fire, rather than wash them. 

“Never gonna get used to a sight like this,” Sadie calls out as she walks up behind you. She kicks a crate over and throws herself down beside you. 

“You will soon enough,” you let out a bitter chuckle and shake your head, “Mrs. Grimshaw’s got some vendetta against me.”

Sadie shrugs and picks at some dirt under her nails. The sun seems to crest just perfectly over her head, almost making her blonde hair glow. She seems to be getting better. She’s put some space between her and the O’Driscolls and has found a place in camp just a little easier than you. 

Still, you know she’s struggling. She wants the freedom that your friendship with Arthur and Charles has granted you. You know she’s feeling cooped up here at camp. You’ll have to invite her for a ride sometime and see if that will help ease some of her anxiety. 

“Nah, it’s not just you. That old hag hates me too. She thinks I’ve got ideas above my station.” You and Sadie turn, glaring at the back of Mrs. Grimshaw who is fussing at Lenny. You shake your head with a huff of laughter and turn back to the laundry in hand. 

“I miss Jake,” Sadie suddenly blurts out. You freeze, hand still partially submerged in water as you debate how to approach this. Sadie’s always preferred the blunt way of going about life. You don’t think she wants simpering sympathy right now. 

“Which parts of him do you miss?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you toss the shirt into the basket beside you. 

“The non-controlling parts.” Sadie nudges your side with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not gonna start cryin’ on ya. I just miss runnin’ my own house, not being bossed around by a son of a bitch like that,” she says, motioning vaguely towards Mrs. Grimshaw. 

“She’s not much better than my husband was,” you grouse, trying to drown out the woman’s voice. 

“Ooh,” Sadie groans, tone laced with long-held resentment. “Forgive me for sayin’ it, but he was a real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help the grin that curls at your lips as you straighten up, momentarily abandoning the laundry. “You’re not my employee anymore, Sadie. Say whatever you want.”

“Right,” she shrugs, “He was a real bastard and I hope he became wolf meat.” Your lips pull back into something resembling a smile, but it's not fully there. You imagine the blood of your husband on your hands and it doesn’t fill you with the usually stifling nausea. Instead, it’s like a distant ache. You’re either growing numb to it or finally accepting that you’ve done the world a favor. 

You suck in a deep breath and nod, “I hope the same.” Sadie lingers for a little while longer, not helping with the clothes, but keeping you company. You don’t talk about anything of much substance. Mainly her irritations with everyone in camp and you echoing the sentiment. She doesn’t like Pearson always trying to force her to cook with him and you hate being his taste tester. It doesn’t matter how much seasoning he adds, he doesn’t know how to make even half-decent stew. 

When Sadie eventually leaves to finish her chores and you’re left all alone with your thoughts, you realize just how painfully slow the day passes by. You almost find yourself dragging the laundry out just to provide you some distraction from waiting for Arthur to come back. 

You’ve both been lingering on the edge of something. You need to see if it’s all in your head or if there might actually be hope for the both of you yet. 

You glare down at the basket of laundry at your feet and let out a heavy sigh. You reach for another shirt and begin scrubbing, keeping a careful eye on the camp’s entrance. 

It’s not until the sky is illuminated with glowing swirls of orange and pink that Arthur and the others come riding back into camp. You’d run out of chores a long while ago and had just been restlessly pacing since then. Every time you so much as approached Lady someone would come by and distract you with some meaningless task. 

You’d been sitting in the tent for the past hour, barely reading a book as you pray time moved faster. You stand now, hearing the cheers and whistles of the others. You move around the canvas, smiling when you see Arthur leading the men back into camp. 

There’s a man on the back of Diablo, a loud-mouthed redhead that you’ve never seen before. You can only assume this is the infamous Sean they’d been after. Judging by the look on Arthur’s face, you imagine he’s been running his mouth the entire time since they rescued him. 

He looks about ready to put a bullet in the young man as he drives him into camp. You see the others all taking notice of their return, Dutch being the loudest of them all. “Sean MacGuire!” He approaches Arthur’s horse, giving the boy a hand down and grinning widely. “Welcome back, son!”

His thick Irish accent catches you off guard, “Oh, ‘appy to be back, Dutch! ‘appy to be back,” he responds eagerly, a large smile on his face.  

You hesitate by the fire, waiting for Dutch to finish before you go darting off towards Arthur. “I do think a return like this requires a celebration!” Dutch calls out to the rest of the gang. They whistle and cheer for him, Bill already rushing off to break out the alcohol. The gleefulness of the moment catches up to you, it eases away some of the anxiety balling up in your gut and you find yourself cheering along with the others. 

Dutch keeps Sean tucked under his arm and begins to parade him through camp. You know this is a win for all of them. Even if someone here hadn’t liked Sean, getting one over on some bounty hunters is always a morale booster. Whatever your opinions on Dutch may be, you have to admit that he knows how to lead his people. 

Even if you happen to think manipulate is a better word for what he does. 

You watch Sean interact with everyone in camp, drawn into the boisterous energy he wraps himself in. It’s clear some of them are already beginning to find him a little annoying. But even his smart comments can’t seem to put a damper on the spirits of the night. 

Your mouth ticks up slightly when you see Lenny slug him in the shoulder, yelling at him for letting himself get caught. You divert your attention away from the interaction, looking for Arthur. You feel a little bit of the giddiness give way to disappointment when you realize you’ve lost sight of him. 

He’s no longer by the horses, Diablo having been hitched long enough to already start grazing the grass. You peer around the women’s tent and then take a few steps towards Arthur’s but he’s nowhere to be found. 

Just as soon as you let yourself be disappointed by this, you also chastise yourself for becoming so infatuated. You’ve always had a bad habit of getting in your head and boosting your hopes up over something mundane. You’ve only just begun forming a friendship with the man and already you’re starting to fret over him. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, you’ll have to grow out of this at some point. 

You rub a tired hand over your face and suck in a deep breath. The aromas of camp rush over you in a wave. You can still smell the remnants of burnt morning coffee amidst the ever-present scent of the campfire and the fragrance of laundry that lingers on your hands. You can no longer tell if the mingling of odors comforts or irritates you. 

You look up to the shining stars above and pray for a semblance of sense. Wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders you resolve to get over this infatuation with Arthur and just enjoy the night. If anything is meant to happen, it will do so naturally. 

Dutch walks towards you as you begin to head towards the domino table. You force yourself to stop when you see the expectant look on his face. Sean trails along behind him now, already seeming to have found his way into some of the liquor. 

 “Mrs. Rowe!” Dutch calls out loudly, you give him a polite smile and he motions towards Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve met my good friend, Sean MacGuire. Mouthiest gunman in the west,” he adds with a smarmy grin.

You shake your head and hold your hand out to the boy. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. And please, no need to be so formal.” You give him your name, and he perks up. Stumbling forward and attempting to shake the drunkenness off, he turns your palm and kisses the back of your hand instead of shaking it. 

You can’t help but laugh a little at his performance. Molly suddenly calls for Dutch across camp and the three of you turn to face her. “Dutch, over here for a moment!” She waves him forward and Dutch lets out a long-suffering sigh with an easy smile. 

“Duty calls, I believe the two of you can entertain each other for a little while.” He turns towards Molly, arms wide as he calls out, “Now, Miss O’Shea, what ever can I do for you?”

Sean quickly snags your attention again and you realize that he’s yet to let go of your hand. “Not a missus, eh?” He asks, his eyebrows waggling with what his drunken mind must think is seductiveness. 

You stifle a giggle and shake your head no. “‘Fraid not. He’s not been gone long, but I’m happier for it.”

“Oh, and so am I, fair lady.” You shake your head with amusement. He’s nearly charming with all of his limitless swagger. “Now, I’ve just been cooped up in a camp with about fifty men with mugs nearly as ugly as these,” he motions towards the gang and you let out another unbidden laugh. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brows furrow, a disbelieving smile on your face. Leaning in, as though you’re sharing a secret, you tell him, “There’s no music.”

He pulls a little bit back from you, meeting your eyes as your breaths mingle with proximity. “Are you sure?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face. 

You find yourself frowning in confusion, and then, almost as though they had planned it, Dutch puts a record on. It’s scratchy on his worn player, but the music fills the camp as he leads Molly into a sway. 

Your lips part in astonishment and you forget for a moment just how close the two of you are. If anyone else saw, they’d think you were going to kiss. “How did you know he was going to do that?”

He waves you off and leans back. “Magician can’t reveal and all that,” he dismisses. “Now, a dance?”

You’re charmed by him, as much as you hate to admit it. Perhaps he doesn’t have quite the same effect on you as Arthur. But he’s handsome in his own way. Besides, who are you to deny a magic man a dance?

You let him lead you towards the fire and he draws you close. You’re surprised when his hand stays firmly on your waist and he keeps a nearly respectable distance between you both. You’re still what modern society would call a scandal, but this is nothing for a gang of outlaws. 

“I’m sure I’ve never met you before. Where did they find you?” Sean spins you out and then twirls you back into his arms with a flourish that makes you breathless. You almost ask him where he learned to dance before you remember to answer his question. 

“Up in the mountains. Some O’Driscolls came through, killed my friend’s husband, and kept us in a cellar.” You’re no longer surprised how easy it is for you to admit something like that. You’ve become desensitized to situations like your own the longer you’ve been in camp. 

“O’Driscolls,” Sean’s face twists up with distaste and he shakes his head. “Nasty business.”

You scoff, “You’re telling me.” Sean’s gaze drifts behind you and the little color on his pale skin drains. It makes the freckles speckling his cheeks stand out remarkably. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Cutting in, MacGuire,” a rough voice calls out from behind you. Your feet still from where they’d been following Sean’s lead and you risk a glance over your shoulder. Arthur paints a fearsome portrait against the night sky. Impassioned by the sight of him, with the brim of his hat tipped low and the fire casting shadows across him, you hastily drop Sean’s hands and step back from him.  “I’d go find your lady if I were you,” Arthur instructs Sean.

Confusion swirls through you before you spot a very angry, very drunk Karen walking past. “Rotten Irish bastard,” she mutters under her breath, shooting both you and Sean a nasty look. Sean chases, taking quick steps towards Karen without another word to you. 

“Karen, it meant nothing, sweetheart. I only wanted a dance!” You let out a loud laugh as you watch him scramble after her. 

“He’s a damn fool,” Arthur says through a chuckle, walking closer towards you. You smile, turning around and flicking the brim of his hat up so he doesn’t seem so imposing. 

“You stole my dance partner, Mr. Morgan.” You accuse lightly, pretending to be cross with him. 

He rolls his eyes with an attitude you rarely see from him. “I did you a favor. You don’t want to get involved with Sean.”

“No,” you tell him, “of course I don’t. I was only dancing. Can’t do that anymore now, can I?”

Arthur’s mouth opens and closes before he lets out a huff. “Well, you two seemed awful close. I thought that-” he cuts himself off and you frown. 

You were only teasing him. Had he actually thought you were interested in pursuing Sean? You’d barely known the boy an hour. You pause, taking a step back and really getting a good look at Arthur. His shoulders are tense, though, not as tense as they had been a moment ago. The anger on his face, when he approached, had been real and not just the fire playing tricks. 

The pieces connect one by one and you find yourself astonished. Arthur Morgan had been jealous over you. 

That had to mean something. You couldn’t be reading into something like this. You might be a little desperate, but you weren’t a fool. You feel a flutter in your stomach and swallow down nerves. “Dance with me?” You ask, in a breathy whisper, sounding much more confident than you are. 

His eyes widen and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m no good at stuff like that.”

You bite down your smile and lean forward, taking his hand in your own. They’re rough against the smooth surface of your palms but you relish in the feeling. “Neither am I. It was the one class I never managed to get the hang of in finishing school.”

You coax him forward slowly, drawing him into you and guiding his hand a little lower on your waist than you should. He takes your other hand in his own and leads you into a slow dance. It’s barely anything more than a sway, but you still feel exhilarated. 

Even with the warning, it’s still a little surprising how awful you both are at dancing. “Even if you're stepping on my toes Arthur, I’m still much happier to be dancing with you,” you tell him, sincerity coating your throat like honey. 

He looks away from you and sighs. “Don’t have to say that.”

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head, catching his eye. “Why would I lie?” He doesn’t respond, caught off guard by the question. 

“Well,” he starts slowly, finally facing you again. He laughs a little at himself and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I wouldn’t,” you retort. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Arthur.” You know that sometimes he doesn’t always catch the hidden meaning, but you’re hoping he understands this time. You don't know if you could be any more brazen than you currently are.

His brows furrow and you can practically see the dots connecting when you begin to hear it. Low grunting noises, something almost like a whimper, slip out of the closed flap of John’s tent. You both pick up on it at the same time, movements slowing until you come to a complete stop. You stand, tucked into Arthur’s chest, and listen to what seems to be two people having a lot of fun. 

“Is that-”

You’re cut off by a very loud, “Sean!” You gasp, hand covering your mouth as your eyes widen. 

“Oh, Karen,” he sounds on the verge of tears and you practically have to bite your tongue to not laugh. You bury your face in Arthur’s chest, feeling it shake as he lets out a loud chuckle. “I’ve missed you so much!” You hear him begin to cry and force yourself to turn away before they hear you both laughing at them. 

“Oh,” Arthur’s face screws up with disgust but he’s still laughing. “That’s just awful. Come on,” he keeps your hand in his, tucking you under his arm as he leads you away from the tent. He snags a bottle of something off a nearby crate as he guides you toward the trees bordering the camp. 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to listen to that,” he mutters, nodding back toward the sinful tent. You clench your eyes shut, trying not to picture what the two of them are doing. 

You feel your feet sink a little, mud lifting around the edges of your boot. You reach to lift your skirts, out of instinct, before you remember you’ve got your new pants on. It makes you smile a little, living without the weight of your old clothes. 

“Arthur,” you stumble into his back as you trip over a branch and he quickly rights you. “Were you jealous?” You don't give much lead-up, hoping to shock the truth out of him. 

He pauses and turns back to look at you. You smile a little impishly at him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This way, woman,” he grumbles, tugging you towards a thinner patch of trees. You find yourself squeezing his hand absentmindedly, liking the comfort of holding it.

The moon illuminates your path forward and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. He’s led you to a small cliff face, a spot just large enough for the both of you, that feels incredibly intimate. The moon almost creates a halo around the area, lighting it up more than anywhere else in the forest. 

Arthur lets go of you to tug off his coat. He places it on the ground and motions for you to sit. So used to fending for yourself and always being the last priority, something as simple as that has your heart skipping. “You didn’t answer my question,” you tell him as you take a seat. 

He sits beside you, knee brushing against your thigh as he pops open the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped. He twirls it around in his hand for a moment before he places it down beside himself. Your stomach dips when he turns towards you, eyes intensely meeting your eyes. 

You almost want to look away, the blue of them too intense to face. There’s honesty in his gaze and an intention you can’t recognize that forms a lump in your throat. “Yes. I was.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, slightly bewildered by how easily he admitted that. “I’m jealous every day I don’t get to call you mine,” he adds.

You used to be someone else’s. First, you were your father’s toy and then your husband's. When they called you theirs it was always with the intention of owning and using you. But it feels different with Arthur. It feels like handing him your bruised heart and knowing he’ll keep it safe. He says those words, and finally, you know that someone other than yourself is looking out for you. 

His hand comes up, gently brushing some hair off your cheek and drifting down to the nape of your neck. You lean forward, following his guidance, as his head dips down. Your lips meet, and the warmth emanating from him makes you realize this is truly happening. 

Cold from the stone below you seeps through his jacket and chills your legs. The feeling only further intensifies the startling realization that this is real. This isn’t one of your silly little fantasies. He’s kissing you and you aren’t doing anything.  

You sit before him, stiff as a stone, not kissing him back or showing him any sign you’re enjoying this. He picks up on that and you can already taste the apology on his lips as he begins to pull back from you. So you dart forward, clumsily pushing your lips up against his before you completely ruin your chance. 

He laughs against your eager lips, but you feel his relief in the way his shoulders slump and he relaxes back into you. One of his hands drifts down towards your waist, tugging you slightly closer, and you could melt into the feeling of him holding you. 

He tightens his hold around you, drawing you back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “You sure you want to get involved with me? It ain’t gonna be easy.”

Unwilling to part for so long, you close the distance between the both of you and finally, let yourself give in to the sensations of this moment. His palm drifts into your hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

Perhaps due to his gruff outlaw exterior, you’d had the misguided notion that he wouldn’t be a good kisser. Men like himself seem like the type not to enjoy something as simple as a kiss. They’re used to just getting right to the point. You’re happy to discover just how wrong you were. 

Those romance books Mary-Beth devours always describe something fleeting. There’s always fireworks going off as the two people you’ve been reading about finally kiss. This isn’t like that, there isn’t a spark that reignites a cold heart. You feel safe and comforted, like you’re finally coming home. This feels real, not like some passionate moment shared between two people that will never last.

Arthur pulls back, reluctantly, and you both catch your breath. “We should probably head back soon,” he whispers, eyes trained on your lips.

You nod your head, “Probably.” Neither of you goes to move, instead you tighten your hold on one another, basking in the moment of finally having what you’ve been coveting for so long.

Next Part end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona

[wabatle]

.ೃ࿐ Blue Lock boys and their love language .ೃ࿐Featuring: Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, Reo, Nagi, Rin, Sae .ೃ࿐Warnings: Reader is implied fem in Chigiri's part, other than that gn!reader, this is my first time writing for Sae, so I'm very sorry if he's ooc! .ೃ࿐A/N: I did a little bit of research to figure all of the love languages out, and I’m really proud of the result! Keep in mind that all of them, although they may share a love language, can each interpret and display them in their own, unique ways <3 .ೃ࿐Taglist: @stellas-starry-stories13 (chigiri) @mariaace (everyone) <3

-ˏˋ⋆ Yoichi Isagi ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Words of affirmation, acts of service, quality timeׂ

╰┈➤Words of affirmation

Isagi will 100% make sure you feel secure and comfortable in your relationship. He always makes sure to tell you anything he thinks you need to hear and will talk to you if you have any problems.

ׂ╰┈➤Acts of Service

Though it may not be much, Isagi tries to do whatever he can to take a load off your shoulders. Got a long to-do list? Isagi will check off as many things as he can for you.

ׂ╰┈➤Quality time

Isagi would try to make as much time for you as possible. He wants to be around you and enjoys your presence, so why wouldn’t he want to spend time with you?

-ˏˋ⋆ Meguru Bachira ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time

╰┈➤Physical touch

Bachira is very touchy. He will cling onto you and won’t let go, as well as accompany you everywhere. If there’s one way Bachira thinks he can prove his love for you, it’s with cuddles and attention.

╰┈➤Words of affirmation

If Bachira catches even the smallest signs of insecurity from you, he’s all over you, telling you how much he loves you, how amazing he thinks you are, literally everything he can think of to punch that insecurity out of you.

╰┈➤Quality time

Ditches practice for you. That’s it, that’s the whole thing. Okay, in all seriousness, Bachira wants to spend every second of every day with you. He’s like a puppy.

-ˏˋ⋆ Hyoma Chigiri ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Gift giving, quality time

╰┈➤Gift giving

Chigiri definitely loves to take care of your hair together, so he would gift you shampoo or conditioner, or some kind of hair care product. He would also give you hair ties or hair accessories.

╰┈➤Quality time

Chigiri loves to spend time with you. He doesn’t really care how, whether it’s sitting at home on the couch gossiping, or walking around town together, stopping at random shops. (Hence the gift giving.)

-ˏˋ⋆ Reo Mikage ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Gift giving, physical touch, quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service/all 5

╰┈➤Gift giving

It’s no secret that Reo is insanely rich. Which, for you, means you get practically everything, whether you asked for it or not. If you look at something for just a second longer, Reo’s card is already out, and you’re already exiting the store with a bag in hand.

╰┈➤Physical touch

Reo is also a clingy guy. He loves to be around you and cuddle with you, or simply follow you everywhere, like a lost puppy. It can get overwhelming at times, but he’ll stop if he feels he’s smothering you.

╰┈➤Quality time

Being clingy, that also means he wants to spend as much time with you as possible. He loves to take you out, whether to fancy restaurants or to luxury stores, or even traveling together. Whatever it is, he wants to do it with you.

╰┈➤Words of affirmation

If you feel insecure or some kind of negative emotion, he himself gets very insecure. So, in order to fix that, he assures you how much he loves you, and as you start feeling better, his own insecurities subside. He worries that he’s the one causing you problems, so you’ll have to assure him he’s not.

╰┈➤Acts of service

Reo would hate to see you stressed about anything, whether it’s something big or not. So, he’ll gladly take some, or even all, of the responsibility. I would imagine that sometimes you have to tell him you don’t need his help because he’s so insistent.

-ˏˋ⋆Seishiro Nagi ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Physical touch, quality time

╰┈➤Physical touch

Cuddles. So much cuddling. Even just when he puts his head on your shoulder, he stays stuck to you like glue. He just wants to have you near him when he’s gaming. He wants an arm around you while he holds his controller.

╰┈➤Quality time

The only reason I included quality time is because Nagi insists on gaming with you. Most of your dates are at home where you relax and play games together. But, on rare occasions when you go out, you most likely stop at an arcade at some point.

-ˏˋ⋆ Rin Itoshi ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Acts of service, words of affirmation

╰┈➤Acts of service

Though Rin may not have a lot of time for you, he still tries to do what he can to prove he loves you. So he does little things, like cleaning up the house a little bit or buying you something on his way home.

╰┈➤Words of affirmation

Though he may not be the best at it, Rin knows no better way to assure you he loves you than telling you. Of course, never in front of his team or really anybody, but, rest assured, he’ll tell you once he’s sure the two of you are in private.

-ˏˋ⋆ Sae Itoshi ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Quality time, words of affirmation

╰┈➤Quality time

Although it may not happen much, quality time with Sae is well spent. Usually, all you do is tangle together while either talking or watching something, but, nonetheless, Sae likes it, and so do you.

╰┈➤Words of affirmation

Despite what a foul mouth Sae can have, he would never use the words he uses to describe other teams or players on you. Most things he says feel and are very genuine, but a few things can come across wrong or sound very possessive.

thank you for reading!

blue lock masterlist | masterlist

[moonyasnow]

We Both Go Down Together.

PROMPT :

CHARACTERS : Ruggie, Kalim

CONTENT : Implied romantic relationship, Reader comes from a privileged background(Ruggie's part), Reader had abusive/neglectful childhood(Kalim's part), I've been obsessed with this song since I first heard it and now I'm making it everyone else's problem

...You come from parents wanton A childhood rough and rotten I come from wealth and beauty Untouched by work or duty...

...And my parents will never consent to this love But I hold your hand...

...And oh, my love, my love We both go down together.

Ruggie

Ruggie Bucchi, next to most other students of his Dorm, stood almost a head shorter; a result of not getting proper nutrition growing up in the slums of the Sunset Savannah and having to scrape by with little money for food, clothes...or anything, really. With a dead mother and absent father, growing up raised by his grandmother in a little slum-town, homemade donuts substituted for the birthday cake they could not afford. The circles he ran in were similarly destitute, perhaps chancing upon someone middle-class every now and then, and finally lucking out in becoming the second prince of the Sunset Savannah's errand boy.

You grew up in a beautiful lakeside villa with your family, and had a housekeeper who made your food and helped with your homework while your parents weren't home to sit down with you. You had fond memories of yearly vacations to faraway locations each year; shores of crystal white sand lapped at by cerulean waves, luxurious alpine mountain cabins, emerald green golf courses, high-end fashion boutiques in every Capital, a photo in front of every World Wonder. Your friends were those from equally influential families, ones your parents arranged for you, classmates from similar backgrounds.

When he first met you and saw your eminently cared for appearance, he immediately clocked you as some kind of rich kid. He thought you might be one of those lazy ones like Leona, or intensely naïve like Kalim. For his sake, he hoped for the latter.

Much to his surprise then when it turned out that, while certainly a bit naïve, you were aware of and wanted to change that. You kinda had to, now that you'd suddenly fallen from the lap of luxury and ended up in the same position as him; effectively homeless, getting an education through the goodwill of others, who made you clean up after them. And so you asked him to help you, figuring he would have good advice, which you certainly weren't wrong about.

It was a struggle for you, so used to having others care for you that you'd barely cooked a meal for yourself before. As he watched your soft hands slowly collect cuts, blemishes and callouses, he felt strange. He was happy to help you learn. But he didn't want this for you. For as envious as he was that you'd known the Good Life, of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth and never having to worry about where your next meal was gonna come from, he was happy for you that you'd had that. And to see you become accustomed to hard work for the first time...

He obviously knew it wasn't his fault, If anything he was easing the burden by teaching you tips, tricks and shortcuts to make the work easier. But he still felt like he was...'dirtying' you in some way as he did so. You were never meant to know that life, of needing to know the kinds of things he'd teach you. But he kept it all in his head, showing you a small smile each time you greeted him, laughing when you thanked him for his advice and promised to pay it back to him. As much as he might've known it was just the smart thing to do, he didn't want to accept any kind of payment from you. You were both in the same boat, as far as he was concerned, and he kinda tricked you into helping with his own errands while 'teaching you' how to do stuff like that, so in his mind the debt was already paid. But he couldn't say no to spending more time with you. You'd...grown on him. Far more than he ever expected you to.

There was another thing he kept in his head. Something he'd probably never tell you.

As soon as he heard precisely what kind of mega-rich and elitist family you were from, he was...happy...that you had no way back home.

He loved his own family, his Granny and the other kids on his street, and now you, more than words could ever say. That was why he did everything he did, after all: to provide for them, and maybe even be able to make those slums he was born in a better place one day if he had the spare cash. He knew how much it would crush him to never be able to see them again, and he felt bad you had to be put in that position. So that's why he felt conflicted.

Because while he might not have told you as much yet, by now you really were like family to him. He'd imagined a future with you. He'd grown up never letting himself imagine any specific kind of future, so he wouldn't get his hopes up. Not like he could imagine one with another specific person anyway, being so used to doing everything himself. But after a lot of time spent getting to truly know you, and even longer learning to trust you...he'd imagined a future with you. And that made you as close to 'it' for him as anyone could possibly be.

And the thought of losing that, losing you, either to the way back being a one-way-trip, or to your parents taking one looking at him, deeming him 'street trash' and forbidding you from seeing him again... It was scary. It even made him cry a little.

But one thought in the back of his mind made him feel a little bit better. The thought of your parents disowning you as well for associating with someone like him.

It was selfish. Obviously. He knew that very well. It hurt for a second to think he wanted something like that for you. His parents were gone, and he grew up close to squalor, but you still had yours, even if in another world, and they could provide everything you might need for you. If you just went back you were practically guaranteed the Good Life, and if you stayed in Twisted Wonderland with him you were guaranteed to struggle and toil and stress just like him, juggling multiple jobs until either he or you somehow managed to strike the job jackpot.

But he just wanted you by his side so bad.

...So bad he'd drag you down into the mud with him, soiling your pristine clothes, if it meant he got to be with you.

It'd be up to you to be stronger, smarter- whatever- than him if you wanted out, because now that he knew that's what he wanted, he was gonna try his hardest to get it.

He just hoped that if it came to it, you wouldn't regret growing so close to him.

Kalim

Kalim Al-Asim was born and raised in a palace, to wealthy parents employing 100 servants in their household. Upon his birth a parade had been thrown in his honor, him laid in his mother's arms, surrounded by the other two, atop an elephant, soft and plush fabric lined with spun gold shielding them from the sun. Loud, extravagant music was played by a live band following in the parade and all manners of confetti and flower petals were thrown in the air to celebrate the birth of the next Asim family heir.

You were born in a small, dingy apartment with the help of your parents' neighbor, your father not present, instead off at some bar or another wasting away that month's money. When it was done and your mother held you, she stared down at you with cold, bitter eyes as you cried. She then promptly left you on a blanket on the ground to go clean the blood on the floor, cursing you and your father under her breath.

He had the best private tutors in both school subjects and magic that money could buy, and while no means an academic prodigy, was praised often as he learned. He had too many toys and books and games to ever be able to count, sharing all of them with his many siblings and his closest friend and retainer, who had been by his side all their lives.

You never went to school simply because your parents never bothered to enroll you, and you only learned to read thanks to one of the older kids in your neighborhood being kinder to you than you thought you deserved. You had one stuffed animal, which was your only friend. You held it close. Treasured it. It was the only thing in the world that was yours.

Simply put, your backgrounds could not possibly be more different. And it showed, on both of you. His skin was clean, smooth and unblemished, yours off-color, gaunt and scarred. You couldn't understand why you of all people were the one he fell for. He shone like the sun. You were like a dirtied, dusty cooking pot, too rusty and worn to reflect anything.

When he found out about the rot and turmoil and taste of tears, dust and blood that was your childhood, he didn't judge you. You felt a bit silly for thinking he would; that just wasn't him, after all.

You didn't understand why he seemed sad seeing the state of Ramshackle. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest Dorm, but it could have been a lot worse. If anything, you felt anxious having such a large house to yourself. And you couldn't understand ever becoming used to living the way he did-- in luxury, never wanting for anything, always having people around him who cared, who would take care of and protect him.

He couldn't imagine what that would be like: having no one to care for you…having to grow up caring for yourself. But he did think it sounded awful. So he made up his mind to never let you experience that again.

He decided he would heap jewels and pretty clothes and good food on you every day for the rest of your life! Because he loved you. He loved you so, so, so much! And he'd give you every good and pretty thing money could buy, because you deserved it, and money was the one thing he had more of than he could ever need, or even spend in one lifetime. So of course he'd shower his beloved, his Hayati, in gold and jewels and riches and everything.

He would carve out the moon from the sky and give it to you on a silver— no, golden platter if you asked him to.

He couldn't understand why you seemed…scared, because of it. Why you started crying when he gave you the most elaborate necklace yet.

You didn't care about his money. You truly didn't. In fact, it intimidated you. You were scared that others would think that was what you cared about. You felt so guilty partaking in the feasts present at his parties, even when he was the one practically begging you to try it. You thought you could feel the eyes of every other person at the party watching you, judging you, thinking 'gold digger' or 'leech' or other synonyms. It became hard to breathe sometimes. But the way he held you so tightly, cleaning off the grime and neglect coating your being enough for you to begin to reflect his sunshine for the first time…through it, it became a little easier each day, to believe that you truly could— did— deserve him.

But then your worst fears came true: his parents didn't approve of you. Of you being with him. They, just as you'd feared, were apprehensive about letting you be with their son due to your background. Not only were you practically homeless with barely a Thaumark to your name, you had no proof you even existed as who you said you were, and had nothing and no one else to fall back on.

Just as you loved him, he loved you more than anything. He was so sure that his parents would love you too... He was completely blindsided when they didn't approve of you. He couldn't understand nor did he wish to believe that anyone, least of all his own family, could be so cruel— for that's how he saw it.

But in retrospect, you felt you should have expected that to be their answer. How does that look, for someone like you to be with someone of his status?

You'd never had much in life. But now you had him. Someone who, for once, loved you unconditionally. You didn't always know how exactly to deal with that fact...but you'd resolved to figure out how. Because you loved him. And the thought of that, this sense of safety, of him, being taken from you as soon as you'd started to become accustomed to the possibility of being allowed to keep them...

You cried that night. You were so scared that his parents would forbid the two of you from being together. Or worse yet, forbid him from even seeing you at all.

To try to soothe you, he took you with him on the magic carpet up high into the sky, where there were no one but you and him for miles. No one who could forbid you from crying into his silk, gold thread and sequence clothes, nor him from gently kissing each of your tears away and assuring you it would be alright. He knew his parents would come around eventually.

It didn't matter to him how many times his parents or other senior staff or relatives tried to explain to him the reasons for why they objected to your love. He'd already decided he wouldn't listen to it. None of their 'reasons' were good enough. Just excuses. Because he knew you weren't like that.

…He didn't say it then, because he knew you probably wouldn't like hearing it, but if his parents never came around…

…He wouldn't hesitate to give everything up for you.

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

This was incredibly self-indulgent but I hope you still liked it!

I just kinda wanted to get it cleared out of my drafts, heh... ; O vO)

Also to that person who sent me a writing request, it's being worked on! ^^

[z-nightshade]

One of my favorite (if not my favorite) things about the Roger!Cass AU is the fact that Robin grows up with the ASL siblings (since yk, she's adopted by Cass and Cass later on settles on Dawn to raise the kiddos)

Robin needs more people that can match her freak. Robin also being the designated bedtime story reader of the group would be so cute (because I do think after a certain point the kids wouldn't drag Cass into everything, just most things!)

And her pickpocketing the rich people in High Town and her teaching Luffy and Ace how to read along with Sabo and Cass, and her enabling Luffy's food thievery by letting him steal from her plate and she steals it back from the other two ♥️♥️

And it is also endlessly funny to me that Robin would therefore become the First Mate of the Strawhats (as well as their archeologist of course). She'd also become their spy-master and tactian ngl. She at this point would be endlessly close to Luffy and would probably have the dynamic of "I'll think for you/I'll fight for you" from the beginning. Also Robin in the East Blue would kick ass and probably cut the time spent in Arlong Park by half.

I'm also very curious about how the Water 7/Enies Lobby arc would go like, because for one, the meeting with Aokiji would go a lot more different I believe. This isn't the Robin who was Miss All Sunday and sometimes has a too-distant smile and was on the run for 20 years. This Robin the daughter of Sunny D. Cassandra, she is the big sister of Sabo, Ace and Luffy, first mate of the Strawhats. They would never be "forced to betray her" because she's literally the foundation.

In addition if she does end up going along with CP9 I'd think it'd only be because she wants to raid Enies Lobby. Steal some blueprints... Of a not so specific prison 👀👀👀

Look, all I'm saying is that Cass would tip Robin off and in this universe Robin is a big sister.

Okay! So the things is that overtime, Cass just keeps acquiring more and more kids. So not only is Robin an older sister to ASL but also Law and every other kid Cass ends up adopting

So Robin gets people who match her freak but also understand what it's like to lose your home to the WG

Robin does get to be little Luffy's biggest enabler however, as Cass is an adult and parent of many so they do have to, you know, put their foot down and parent. Plus, they can't have favorites

As for Robin in the East Blue, I think Robin wouldn't actually meet up with the crew until Alabasta anyway bc she would have been part of the "sailing when you turn 17" promise.

The way I imagine it playing out is that Robin sets sail at 17 and goes around looking for Ponoglyphs and vibing until Luffy sets sail and she can join him

I imagine that's how she gets the 'Demon Child' moniker as it slowly comes out that someone from Ohara who can read Poneglyphs survived. Which Robin gets a good laugh out of because she knows everyone survived because of her Baba

This eventually leads her to being in Baroque Works for a while as a sort of double agent. She actually had a whole conversation with Cass about it, because she wants to find the Poneglyph but also Crocodile's an ass and the people of Alabasta deserve better

She settles on working to help from the inside until Luffy shows up to kick ass like Cass assured her would happen

Besides, it's not like Luffy would need the help in the East Blue. After all, the lot of them were properly trained their whole lives rather than being thrown to figure it out in the jungle. The Dawn Kids are even more OP than they already would have been because you know Cass wasn't letting them leave without knowing Haki and how to defend themselves against any dangers they may come across

As for Water 7/Enis Lobby and Aokiji...

I think he always knew Robin existed bc of Saul (who is vibing in retirement and enjoys visiting Robin when he can) but he wasn't aware that she was raised by Sunny D Cassandra, eldest adoptive child of the motherfucking Pirate King Gol D Roger and Dark King Silvers Rayleigh (plus all the other things they are known for), until she mentions it

Which is why I imagine CP9 gets called on her

Also, she totally willingly goes with CP9 bc she knows her baby brother will come and get her and wreck the government's shit but also because she's watched her Baba plan hundreds of different ways to break into and out of Impel Down over the years and she thinks the blueprints for said prison will be a good present

[tyrantisterror]

No Small Feat Artwork Pt. 4 - The Haunted Widower Arc

By request, I'm gonna show off some of the artwork for No Small Feat, a Midgaheim story my friends and I told through the TTRPG system Fabula Ultima. I drew a lot of characters and monsters for it, and my friends - in particular, @dragonzzilla, @scatha5, and @dinosaurana - helped line and color them so we'd have cute little sprites to use on our online battlemaps, which really helped sell the whole "we're playing an oldschool turn based RPG" vibe that Fabula Ultima's system is going for.

In this part we'll be looking at the NPCs introduced in the second arc of the campaign, The Haunted Widower!

One thing I learned in the first arc was that I needed a stock of generic NPCs to fill out certain maps, which I promptly drew and tasked my friends with making color variations of them, as you do. I've got a good bundle now to use in future Midgaheim campaigns using this system!

But enough about the bit players. The most important NPC introduced in this arc was Baron Kaboldt von Hubert, a minor nobleman with a lot of love to give and one teeny tiny problem: all his wives keep dying! He assumed this was due to some curse, though when pressed by the heroes he couldn't recall a single event that could have caused said curse - no broken statures or snubbed mysterious beggar women or anything. Quite a mystery, and one our players had a personal investment in for a couple reasons:

Rumor had it that Kaboldt might be in possession of one of the crown jewels, as he'd always buy the biggest gemstone he could find for the wedding rings he got for his many dead wives, and buried said rings with them.

You know how Bright Eyes was running from an arranged marriage? Yeah, it was to this guy.

You know how Leonie was looking to marry rich? Yeah, she chose this guy, and when our heroes arrived into the town of Peralt, they realized that the girl who had treated them to a feast in session 1 was now engaged to a man whose previous wives all died.

Kaboldt was designed to be very gothic and tragic, but also more than bit ridiculous - melodramatic even by the standards of fairy tales. I established this early on by having our heroes see one of the statues he'd commissioned of himself which, in the tradition of real world aristocrats, slightly exaggerated his heroic qualities.

Somehow this wasn't a turnoff for Leonie, though maybe she was just excited to get an equally "flattering" portrait upon becoming the nobleman's wife.

(my players found this portrait two arcs later as a fun brick joke)

Of course, the "curse" turned out to be more complicated than expected. Our heroes stayed the night at Leonie's request, and found out the mansion was haunted by both a poltergeist:

...and the specter of Kaboldt's first wife:

Who, of course, kidnapped Leonie and took her to the von Hubert family crypt, where all the other wives were interred, and which were now positively crawling with undead monsters.

There was a team battle against a Banshee and a Dullahan that my players... artfully avoided (they got to cameo at the end of the arc so it's fine), ambushes by zombies revenants and skeletons, and the shade of Baron von Hubert's father who had some important exposition to relay about his family, and specifically the existence of a bastard son in the family who wasn't fully human...

Our heroes found Leonie pretty early on in the crypt, and kept her with them while they looked for the remains of the first wife to figure out the source of the mansion's curse. When the finally reached the first wife's coffin, however...

They found the real Leonie.

See, Kaboldt von Hubert was actually a Doppelganger, born from the union of a human and a demon possessing the still-living body of another human. Doppelgangers feed on life energy by causing emotional distress in their victims, with their primary trick being using shapeshifting to gaslight their prey into despair. The Leonie the gang found first was actually Kaboldt in disguise.

Our heroes chased Kaboldt back to his manor, where they allowed Leonie to run off to safety while they fought the doppelganger as he exposed his true form (as much as a doppelganger has one form, at any rate). Leonie didn't sit the whole battle out, though - as Kaboldt begged the heroes to spare him when they had him dead to rights, she popped out and stoved his head in with one of his family's warhammers.

Upon raiding the mansion, the heroes found the body of the first wife in Kaboldt's mansion, and clutched in her hand was the ring with the crown jewel. Unfortunately, that's all they found - Kaboldt, it turned out, has fully expended his fortune, and a traumatized Leonie became enraged at realizing she'd gone through all this for nothing, and decided to make her fortune the way her new friends were doing it: by going on an adventure of her own.

Bright Eyes, meanwhile, was never more certain she'd made the right call to run away from home.

This was the first arc with a secret bonus boss, which our heroes didn't end up fighting but did convince to help them deal with some zombies. The Grave Dragon wasn't a bad guy, after all, he just wanted to eat some corpses.

[agonzovi]

[1] Dawn in the rest

Yellow Diamond centric

cowboy bellow au :)

(---)

"That's great to know, Missus— ah, what's your name again?"

The inside of this building is horrid. It's a singular room, painted with dominant shades of white and grey, accentuated only because red wine bottles were stacked on a monochrome shelf.

Mrs. Davis, the lady who introduced herself to Yannick, was dressed similarly in aesthetics, with her fancy white suit and red ascot tie. (Immediately written off as a psychopath in Yannick's mental book.)

"Yannick."

"Missus Yanick, I'm sure you have better things to tend to—"

Mrs. Davis pours the wine into her glass, her black claws curling around its base from the stem, and the wine is placed back on the painted mahogany desk with a hard clink.

If it wasn't the fact that wine bottle was branded by some bigshot company (Who's owner is unfortunately facing Yannick, in complete coincidence.) —Yannick could have mistakenly pinned it as some poor homeless person's blood.

"—seeing as you're just a nomad, I certainly won't hold you for any longer."

Yannick notices how the platinum blonde punctuates the first part, uttered with a patronizing drawl; or perhaps this lady just has a transatlantic accent? who knows.

'Why am I here again?'

Oh right. Because apparently, approaching private property with full intent of stealing was illegal.

And here she was facing the owner of that property, extremely wealthy, (surely, she wouldn't notice a few bottles gone, right?) and strangely lenient with her crime, which if Yannick is guessing, an attempt of mercy that's just another manipulation tactic to seem threatening. Yannick's gotten through worse, and couldn't stand to care less.

"I must warn you, buttercup. If I or anyone who works here witnesses you near this part of town again, There will be consequences."

Mrs. Davis' tall figure stands from behind her desk, looming over Yannick menacingly, She takes note of how Mrs. Davis is a good probably 6 inches taller than Yannick's already lengthy figure, and how her glinting teeth are bared through a faux smile emphasized by thick black lipstick.

those are some strangely sharp teeth.

"Are we crystal, Missus Yannick?"

Yannick hasn't said a word so far yet, she's just sat there in a minute streak of staring detachedly and it would probably be socially appropriate to end that streak.

"Crystal."

Mrs. Davis' teeth-smile contorts into a satisfied curve on her face, strangely perfect, absolutely fake.

(---)

"Do not take improper care of my horse!"

Blood-red wine bottle in hand, and also, blood-red lead rope in hand, (What the fuck is Mrs. Davis' obsession with red things?) Yannick runs off into the sunset. With Mrs. Davis' steed, a majestic pure white thing she didn't mean to steal aside the wine.

It was the closest mount she'd taken because Jasper— her horse, wasn't there when she ran outside to escape Mrs. Davis brandishing a pistol, Yannick had stolen the wine right off the desk and blasted out of the pyschologically torturous setting.

The sentence she screamed when Yannick was far off with her horse was the most emotion she had heard from Mrs. Davis, and Yannick doesn't think thats a good sign.

Compiling these events, Stealing a mount and a bottle from a rich lady with terrifying power and who'd already acquired a history of trying to end her life judging from the flying bullets, She was undoubtedly going to be hunted down.

The sun is setting further, and there are dust trails behind her, she pops the cork off the wine and drinks it straight. Holy shit, that is very good wine.

However, Yannick still needs a plan to escape being hunted down for her head, and precisely decides to go straight and hope she finds something.

The horse throws her off.

[rarepears]

Thoughts on possibly Isshin Kurosaki X Endeavor? The reason i am asking this is because Ishin had to raise all 3 kids alone when his wife died and they grew up kinda ok for the most part(although they do need some therapy regarding the mourning of their mum) so like maybe it could be interesting to see?

Okay, let's do some math to figure out how this AU works.

Ichigo is like... 9 when his mother dies. He's 15 when he becomes a Shinigami in canon. Isshin needs a few years of mourning to get over the lost of his wife (and we all know he never really does in canon, but he's going to develop a Single Father Bond with Endeavor and that's how their relationship starts.)

Shouto will have had to been born and Touya is like 10 years older than Shouto. Let's say Rei die in childbirth since we need Enji to FLOUNDER with 4 kids and a Very Busy hero career to juggle. He would love to get more help around the house, but the first few nannies he's hired has gone horrible wrong: nannies getting kidnapped and tortured by villains who would LOVE to get some revenge on the Flame Hero via his kids, nannies selling out private Todoroki information to the press, etc.

He needs something more permanent. Someone who's got their horse permanently hitched to him that they are paddling up the creek with no oar and will suffer any and all consequences togehter.

In other words, I'm talking marriage. Enji is getting remarried.

Then when Enji makes this decision... he gets severely hurt on a mission in the middle of no where. Aka Karakura Town. The nearest doctor is one Dr. Isshin Kurosaki who performs first aid.

Enji doesn't deal well with small talk (aka he doesn't talk), so it's just Isshin rambling on and on and on about his favorite topics: dead wife and his cute kids! Enji's interest in finally perked when he hears that Isshin is also a Single Dad with a Very Busy Career (because doctors and surgeons of Isshin's caliber are busy in Enji's mind and why would he ever assume that Isshin is a runaway rich scion that isn't human at all???) and is still somehow managing to juggle 3 kids.

So. Single Father Bonding Time.

Ichigo is 13 when his father (finally) informs him that he's dating someone is it's Serious.

Touya is 11 when his father informs him that he's getting remarried- and oh, it's a guy. With 3 kids.

Touya: NANI??!!!

13 year old Touya goes to fake his death in winter - Ichigo is 15 years old and his first sibling has passed away. It's what pushes him to accept Shinigami powers 6 months later when Ruukia intrudes into his bedroom because he's hoping to find his little brother's soul in the afterlife.

But instead what happens is that Ichigo hunts down his Very Alive runaway brother after the whole Soul Society arc, so that's nice.

[More in #isshin kurosaki x endeavor aka ichigo gets the todoroki shouto as his stepbrother AU]

[lorelaimasters]

(  lizeth selene.  gender fluid.  she/her.  )  did  you  hear  ?  LORELAI "ELLIE" MASTERS  is  stuck  in  stonehaven  for  the  for  the  foreseeable  future  …  they've  lived  here  for  ALL THEIR LIFE  and  are  known  around  town  as  THE  PROMISCUOUS,  though  back  in  high  school  they  were  better  known  for  being  voted  MOST LIKELY TO MARRY RICH.  if  i'm  not  mistaken,  they’re  a  TWENTY FOUR  year  old  grade  studying  MECHANICAL ENGINEERING  (  i  really  hope  that  translates  well  into  their  role  as  a/an  ENGINEER  in  the  ‘new  world'  ).  according  to  my  records  they  were  originally  on  the  trip  because  she had a scheduled hook up in town and figured it would be a good excuse to get out there  —  which  checks  out,  given  they’re  EXTROVERTED,  KNOWLEDGABLE  and  SELF SERVING.  if  you’re  ever  trying  to  find  them,  your  best  bet  is  to  start  at  WHEATON'S AUTO REPAIR  and  listen  for  someone  humming  GLITTER AND VIOLENCE  by  nessa barrett.  oh,  and  don’t  forget  to  try  calling  out  ellie  or  picturing  A CRUSHED PACK OF MARLBOROS, GLITTER CAKED SKIN FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE, THUNDER STORMS, CHERRY LIPGLOSS, AND SCRAPED KNEES  for  extra  help.  let's  hope  the  chaos  doesn't  get  to  them  …  (em.  23.  she/her.  est.  none. )

S U M M A R Y

name: lorelai margaret masters

nickname: ellie

age: 24

birthday: october 28th

height: 5'8"

sexuality: pansexual

positives: extroverted, knowledgeable, charismatic, intuitive, driven

negatives: self serving, manipulative, stubborn, secretive, hot headed

O P E N T H E B O O K

mechanic dad and real estate agent mom, lorelai masters was set up for success from birth. with an older brother and younger sister she was socialized and confident in herself at a very young age. the masters family have been in stonehaven for generations, the roots ran deep and lorelai felt that growing up. like any small town everyone knew each other and watched little ones grow up and fly the coup. her parents always taught her to love who she was, and she did. she loved horseback riding at the stables and going to the roller rink on the weekends with her sibling's. she didn't pay much attention to her looks when she was young cause why would that matter? but when she got to highschool and dating was introduced further than just school yard crushes lorelai got a bit insecure. so lorelai became ellie and the boys really liked ellie so that's who she continued to be. it was a new type of validation she didn't think she needed until her first taste of it.

for the most part the only thing that changed about ellie was her looks and the name but something in her behavior changed too. she had always been charismatic, the type of person that drew you in, but she found herself craving that validation from people more and more. charisma doesn't work on everyone unfortunately so along with the charisma ellie grew manipulative in her tactics to get people in bed. regrettably this need for everyone's approval that she was hot enough really hurt her chances of forming lasting romantic relationships. her brain would twist it from "they like how i look and that's enough" to "i still need other people to see me that way too".

going to college only drove that need and she fell into the party scene. now at first it was hard balancing school and social life because ellie was majoring in mechanical engineering to follow after her father and the workload was intense. but with the help of energy drinks and some less legal aids, the brunette may as well have been hannah montana the way she was leading a double life. partying and meaningless hookups at night and her nose in the books during the day. one of those meaningless hookups is what got her on the trip in the first place, it's not like they were doing shelter work 24/7 and besides; sleep is for the weak.

F O O T N O T E S

ellie lived a bit of a rockstar life before they got back. partying until the morning, backstage at concerts out of town. very much work all day, stay up all night. surviving off of cigarettes and energy drinks to maintain her gpa while also living her best life.

other than the auto shop she frequents the stables since she grew up riding, hot girl horse girl crossover.

had a black cat named skull crusher but who knows where little homie went when the town disappeared.

S I D E C H A R A C T E R S

partner in crime: these two are thick as thieves, they enable each others bad decisions and would defend each other until the end of the earth.

childhood friend: someone who was there for the lorelai to ellie pipeline and either supported it or judges her for it. could definitely has some angst with this if we go with the latter rather than the former.

the one that got away: someone ellie loves so deeply but it is scared of actually being exclusive in case it makes her less desirable to everyone else. she pushed them away but it haunts her every day because they fully could have been the one.

the one she hurt: they fell victim to ellie's smash and dash. someone who ellie had to use manipulation since her natural charm had seemingly zero effect on them and she made them think she really liked them which only made it hurt more.

antagonized: ellie can be a lot to handle so someone who just finds her overwhelming and maybe even annoying to be around. with her need for validation this just makes her want to be around them even more to prove herself.

confidant: someone who ellie opens her heart to, likely been close friends for a while now and she feels like she can just pour everything out of her to them.

immue: someone who is completely unfazed by ellie's flirty nature which drives her absolutely insane and she's too stubborn to just let it go.

more:

party friends

hookups

school friends

[eimearkuopio]

You live in a big fancy manor house owned by a rich man who runs a lot of the village. Never mind how he acquired that wealth, or whether he is a just lord. That part of the story doesn't matter right now.

He left his servants and his children in charge while he stepped out for a bit. The children decided it would be fun to throw a rager, and went around inviting everyone in the village. Some people wanted to join in. Some people felt like they had to because the local lord's children were insisting. Some people got straight-up kidnapped out their own fucking homes and dragged to some stupid party they didn't even want to go to.

And some people really shouldn't have been invited in the first place, but that's what happens when you decide to "get wild".

Things got out of hand. You got your first taste of freedom, and it was sweet until it turned bitter.

Luckily for you, I live in the next town over, and one of my kids ended up at your party. She had the common sense to get in touch, in spite of all the older kids yelling at her and telling her it was a bad idea and you would all get in trouble.

And now, I'm here.

Think of me as your slightly weird aunt. Your dad doesn't approve. We have different parenting styles, and sometimes I'm more liberal, and sometimes He is, but we both love your whole generation of tiny dumbasses.

Admittedly, I love my tiny dumbass more than I love His tiny dumbasses, but I do still love you.

You've trashed the place. Maybe you didn't think that would happen. Maybe you thought the House Rules would keep the party from devolving into chaos.

Step one is getting rid of the ones who shouldn't be here. Anyone who wants to leave, LET THEM. It's not their job to clean up your mess. Some of them have homes to go to! Anyone who wants to help out, you owe them one. You're scared of how they might leverage it? Too bad, shouldn't have thrown a rager. Anyone you think it might be a good idea to get rid of anyway... Make your own call and accept the consequences, or feel free to ask me. I might not get it right, but I have better odds than most of you kids. (The kid who called me is sticking around. You owe her big time, but you don't need to be worried that she'll be in trouble when it's time for her to come home. If she hadn't managed to overcome the terror you instilled in her, she might actually have tried to torch the place, and that would have been worse. She did fine.)

Step two is cleanup and repairs. Anything absolutely trashed beyond repair should be recorded and remembered. If it's something that can be replaced, you're going to need to figure out how. In this parable, children should do more of the clean-up than servants. Servants will guide and instruct, and will probably help out because that's part of their job, but they didn't make this mess and I will not be happy if they are left to clean it up. Maybe think of it as the shepherds being given carte blanche to supervise the wise men. My kid is a good kid, but she's still a kid. Ask her, and if she's not sure, she'll try to find me.

I'll wander around and keep an eye on things. This is your house, not mine, so I don't know the specifics; but I actually run my own household instead of leaving it all to the servants, so I can probably offer some helpful tips.

I don't know when He'll be home. I don't know how bad it will be when He gets here; I've seen some pretty messed up shit, but He has definitely mellowed with age. But I would strongly recommend you stop wasting any more time and GET TO WORK.

[lyriquette]

Might make the main character be called Lenore instead. Levant is too much of a wind-associated name lol.

Typically the stories that used Imperial-related stuff with the poor-to-rich storyline are usually village -> town -> prefectural city -> capital. And I kinda want to make a reasonable storyline that drags capital people into the village that Lev lives at. It becomes the new capital because it's eventually perceived as a blessed land.

--

For "future skills" so that readers don't think I'm pulling stuff out of my ass, I will just limit it to farming and cooking - and it's not really that good cooking either because in the Modern / Celestial World, it's easier and cheaper to mass-produced nutrient biscuits to satisfy hunger and get proper nutrition than actually buying food.

Social media is heavily regulated in the Modern World. There is no anonymity anymore. What you say can affect your job prospects and your social life.

Cooking and satisfying your taste buds is more of a rich person's hobby. But being rich enough to become a streamer and talented enough to do cooking is enough to earn a living.

Too bad Lenore was neither rich or good at cooking. She was originally an orphan abandoned by her parents because people in the Celestial World test for powers like the real world tests for gender. A celestial who can cause earthquakes is a particularly bad power.

She was lucky enough to be born in the neutral areas rather than the companies since the companies would've just immediately stuck her in child labor. The Neutral areas are headed by the celestial courtm but as soon as she turns 13 - the age of adulthood agreed by the companies - orphans are auctioned based on their learning and potential.

Orphanages have a focused education course where the top 90% must pass or get kicked out of the orphanage. No point in wasting time and energy on kids who refuse to either obey or avoid their studies. Martial arts and cultivation are also of value because during company fights, the company literally goes to war. A kid's potential worth is the only reason why they're being nurtured in the first place.

Racism no longer exists, if only because it's been replaced by cold meritocracy and profit. If one doesn't fit in the mold, they are discarded.

Lenore isn't that smart school-wise but she's clever and when she's fixated on something she likes such as farming, she earns more easily about it. Turning her into a farmer was ultimately going to be her destiny - the problem is most people who become a farmer have powers related to plant growth while she could only cause earthquakes. She studies hard to try and even the odds, but there's only so much fertilizing and farming technique can do against a cultivator that can ripen their crops twice as fast as you.

She tends to get into arguments with her peers. She's stubborn like a mule, usually to her detriment. She'd rather break than bend - and a good part of her character development is just to learn how to interact with other people and to resolve her abandonment issues.

She might not be able to achieve the highest yields from her land, but she isn't the worst either, and that's big given her competitors have supernatural powers to grow the fields. Need to figure out the exacts on this - and how much modern farming the Celestial World actually has.

Eventually, she gets kicked out for getting into arguments / not fitting in.

------

I am looking forward to the farming research lol.

[empressofmankind]

I'm gonna need to know something about or read some of what you have for That A Whole Margarita of a Man cause it sounds very, very appealing

I am so hyped for every last one of your stories so a little sneak peek at any of them would be magnificent !!

It's one of the newest on the list - and one of the few I don't actually have long-form prose (i.e. readable draft content that isn't my story beat steno) for yet. So, I'll tell you a bit about what it is about.

The whole thing arose from me mildly complaining to @tiredemomama about how long it'd been since doing body shots. Aaand we started spitballing about Croc and Shivs doing them? And then a few days later, having let the itch stew a little, I really went to plotting town with @feral-artistry regarding what that would all entail. But the crux of the matter is: it exists because I wanted an excuse to write about them downing body shots off of each other. That's it. That's the plot.

The title is courtesy of @feral-artistry, because as they said:

"That's a lot of ground to cover for a body shot. That's a whole margarita of a man."

I liked it a lot.

A logistic issue, too. Shivs would get drunk so much faster, simply by being lighter weight & downing a larger volume? So we have to just pour a whole bottle of the good whiskey down my girl at some point. To keep things fair. Obviously. No other reasons.

It's set around the same time as 'The House Always Wins' and 'On The First Day of Christmas', i.e. about a near decade before the canon, at Rain Dinners, in Rainbase, Alabaste, when Crocodile and Shivs were a combined force to reckon with.

She's dealing at the high limits lounge, as she did more often at that time, having made the unused table 13 in that pit an absolute hit. Despite the high bet and pot limits, those limits still exist. And the story starts with the fact that they manage to reach it. Shivs jokingly suggests that, instead of breaking the house rules, she can throw in a few body shots.

Croc is good at poker, and he likes it, but he's not necessarily intense about winning - he's not fragile about thát. However. The minute those words leave her mouth? He gets intense about winning. Not because he necessarily wants it. I mean, if he wanted it, he could just suggest it. She'd be down? No need to bank roll a whole table for it. The reason - of course - is that he doesn't want anyone else to gdamn win.

So naturally, the plot demands that he doesn't win.

Zip forward to whomever is unlucky enough to win (with a real chance of winding up both very rich and very dead) finding out that, actually, she meant her taking body shots off of them. Not the other way around. The funny part is that Shivs expected Croc to win too. This was her nefarious plan all along! Her plans are so amazing...

Anyway, now she's stuck doing this with someone else, and unfortunately, not all poker players are as hot as they are smooth? Croc is still mildly upset, but amused in that irritating way of his at her playing herself. After that, this happening leads to bar hanging banter, and body shots in all kinds of increasingly creative ways (I am having a lot of fun with it), and when Croc makes that horny reptile noise down the line, everyone else's flight response kicks in.

Time to clear the house.

The bartenders are drawing straws who has to stay behind, because if they make Croc get his own bottle, all of them are going to suffer. Someone's gotta take one for the team.

It goes all kinds of south from there.

I haven't quite figured out the ending

Thanks for the W.I.P. Round Up ask! This is a ton of fun. I love talking about my content.

[dianneking]

New teacher in town (Larissa Weems x Melissa Schemmenti)

Larissa Weems x Melissa Schemmenti.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, spoilers for Wednesday S1 finale, mentions of past Larissa/Laurel, hints of past Morticia/Larissa, Larissa Weems Lives, Larissa Weems needs a hug, swearing, alcohol consumption.

Crossposted on ao3: link here!

The first thing that Larissa thinks as her eyes met the figure of the new hire – and she is not proud to admit it, not even to herself – is ‘Oh, fuck, not another redhead’. Fate has a way to be ironic sometimes, and this feels like someone somewhere is having a cosmic laugh at her expense.

"Oh wow. You sure are a whole lot of woman." There is something so trite about comments on her height that Larissa cannot help a sarcastic comeback from leaving her lips: "Is that so? I’ve never noticed.” The newcomer doesn’t seem offended by her impoliteness – as if she expected nothing less caustic as a retort – studying her with a calculating gaze.  

"Well you sure ain't Sicilian, not with those legs and pale face and white hair. Any chance you might be Italian?"

"I'm from Worthing."

"Is that in the South?"

"That's in Britain."

"Ah, such a sad country."

"Excuse me?"

"But it is! A sad, grey country with sad beige foods. No sun, no life, no spices…just sad. And you overcook pasta."

Larissa closes her eyes, pleading to a higher Being to grant her patience in this trying hour. Not Fate. She knows not to trust Her anymore.

"What brings you to Nevermore, Miss Schemmenti?"

"I felt like changing hang-outs."

"After twenty years in the same school?"

"Are you calling me old?"

"Miss Schemmenti, I simply find it hard to believe that someone would suddenly move states after staying for so long in one place just for a change of scenery."

"What's with the questioning? Are you with the cops? I'll have you know that my record is squeaky clean, I was always perfectly innocent."

"Miss Schemmenti, the last normie teacher we hired in this school tried to unleash an undead fire-wielding pilgrim on the students. You'll forgive me if I try to prevent any more suspicious characters from entering the staff."

She surely doesn't expect the redhead to burst into surprised laughter.

"Miss Schemmenti, I hardly think this is a laug–"

"An undead, fire-wielding pilgrim? That takes some guts to set up! Who was this person? Were they Sicilian?"

"Her name was Laurel Gates." Larissa hates how simply mentioning her makes the old wound reopen, the deep, dark stab of betrayal as painful as the day it was discovered.

"Hmmm, no Gates married into the Schemmenti family, that I know of. I must ask Nonna, she knows all the comings and goings."

"That is hardly going to make me trust you more, Miss Schemmenti."

"Look, blondie. It's not rocket science: you have a free teaching place and no teachers crazy enough to come to this lair of outcasts after half of it burned down in a mysterious accident. Not to even mention the string of murders before that. I, on the other hand, need to get away from Philly and lay low for a while. Also, I taught second graders in a public school. Outcast teenagers and undead pilgrims can't hold a candle to that in terms of scariness. As for the fire-wielding part, us Schemmentis have a rich history in firefighting. I’ll be okay."

As much as it pains Larissa, the woman has a point. She has all the paperwork in order to become the botanical sciences teacher, and she is the only one that has applied. In months. The board would have her head if she didn't hire her simply because she didn't trust her.

"Beggars can't be choosers."

It’s not the woman’s fault if her hair will give Larissa flashbacks to something she’s trying her best to bury.

Like she herself almost was.

"I knew you'd see reason. Also, you lot pay way better than Abbott's. Granted, working the streets paid better than Abbott's, too, so that's hardly an achievement."

—

"Do you even eat, Weems?"

Larissa tiredly looks up from her laptop. It is late – must be at least half past nine pm – and it feels like she’s drowning in emails and paperwork and ‘to the attention of the principal’ and ‘kind regards’. The last thing she needs today is the new teacher’s attitude.

"What now, Melissa?"

"It's Schemmenti to you, blondie."

"Very well, Miss Schemmenti, what seems to be the problem today?"

"Your eating habits, or lack thereof."

"I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"No wonder you are so cranky all the time if you don't eat properly. You're coming with me, let's go."

Larissa finds her hand being tugged and all she can think about for a minute is how warm Melissa's hand is in her own. By the time she gets her wits back, she is being unceremoniously dragged through the corridors to the teacher's quarters. The shared kitchen, specifically.

She can only look on, astounded as the small redhead – only slightly taller than Maril- than Laurel had been, and really, Larissa should stop thinking about her – manhandles into a chair, hands her a glass of red wine and starts flittering around the kitchen, pulling ingredients together and throwing them in pots and pans. Mechanically, Larissa takes a sip and can’t help the groan of delight that falls from her lips.

Melissa turns at the sound, and Larissa for a moment thinks she can see a tinge of redness dusted on her cheekbones, but maybe it’s a trick of the light, maybe it’s the steam from the boiling water in front of her, because the other woman’s mouth opens in a smirk, a spark of smugness dancing in her eyes, and there’s no hesitation in her voice as she asks: “You like the Nero d’Avola? I have a guy who gets it for me directly from Sicily… I can’t deal with all of those American reds. Too light, too easy. Sicilian reds instead, they make love to your tongue.”

The grin widens and Larissa cannot help but think of the disappointment brought to her by another kind of American red and how she hoped that this Sicilian red wasn’t going to get to her head. Or worse, her heart.  

She wouldn’t mind her making love to her tongue though.

“There you go, blondie. Eat up, there’s more if you want it.”

When Larissa takes the first bite of the pasta Melissa has set in front of her, she doesn’t groan. She moans.

And this time she’s sure she’s not imagining the faint blush that is coloring the redhead’s cheeks.

–

"Have you ever been with a woman, Weems?" They have drunk the whole bottle, and then another one, and as the ruby wine courses through their veins, loosening their tongues, their conversation has turned to more and more personal topics.

"If you're going to ask me personal questions, might as well call me Larissa."

"You do have a point there. Plus, I cooked for you. I guess we can switch to a first-name basis. The question still stands."

"I don't have the best track record with women, but yes, I've been with two of them."

"Now you make me want to know what happened." Melissa tops off her glass and Larissa thinks this could be a bad idea. But at the same time, she’s never had someone care enough to ask. Even with Marilyn – Laurel, damnit – they never seemed to have the time to talk about their past with each other. In retrospect the reason was pretty clear, but the damage had already been done.

"The first one killed someone who was already dying and dropped his body in front of me from a balcony, and ended up marrying the man who took the blame for that not-murder."

"Damn, that's hot."

Larissa's lips quirk up in a half-smile. Trust Melissa to say something like that, with no judgement, but a slightly awed air about her.

“Yeah, well, that’s your everyday fare here at Nevermore apparently. I told you that with your penchant for dramatics you’d fit right in.”

“No really. It’s like out of one of those love stories full of death and drama! Like the Carmen or something.” Her hands are in the air, wildly gesticulating as she tries to explain herself better. Larissa finds herself smiling at her enthusiasm. At least someone's getting some entertainment out of her own past mistakes.

“After that, all relationships must have seemed a little too tame.”

"Oh, I wouldn’t say that. The second one almost killed me."

“Oh come on, now who’s the one being overly dramatic?”

“Trust me, there’s no exaggeration here.” Larissa sips her wine, feeling its fullness on her tongue. She has never told anyone about Marilyn. It's still too raw. And she doesn't want to admit she has been blinded by her own feelings, and Nevermore has almost paid the price for it. She swallows the alcohol, trying to swallow the self-loathing with it as well.

"Is that a metaphor to say that she ruined your life?"

Larissa feels her own hand come up to play with the small scar to the side of her neck. It's almost invisible to the eye, nothing more than a circlet of lighter, tougher skin, but she can still feel it, the needle stabbing her neck, the burning of the poison being injected. The even stronger pain of betrayal. She swallows again and keeps her voice forcefully light.

"Oh no, I meant it quite literally. She injected nightshade in my neck."

Melissa gapes at her, her green eyes travelling to where her hand is still absentmindedly playing with the microscopic scar. She closes her mouth. Then she opens it up again, but no sound comes out.

"Don't tell me I managed to actually shut up the Melissa Schemmenti."

"No, Jesus. I just… and I thought my ex-husband was bad. This…this is another level of fucked up."

"That's me, I am a perfectionist. If I have a bad breakup, it's murder or nothing."

She tries to play it off with some self-deprecating humor, aware of the heaviness she had brought to the table. No wonder she never had a confidante. It was too much to unload on someone. She herself was too much, possibly.

“I’m so sorry, Larissa.” And suddenly she’s being enveloped in a hug by the other woman. Her arms are warm around her shoulders, and with Melissa standing beside her chair, Larissa’s face is buried in her fiery hair, and her body is soft and her perfume fills Larissa’s nostrils and–

–And suddenly, something breaks within Larissa and all the composure she had managed to keep since waking up in the hospital, since coming back to her rightful place at the head of Nevermore simply shatters.

Nevermore’s Principal starts sobbing into the new hire’s shoulder, soaking her leopard-print shirt with all the tears she had never allowed herself to shed. And it’s not the wine, and it’s not the pasta, and it’s not even the fact that Melissa’s hair is the same shade as Marilyn’s. What does Larissa in is the fact that for some unfathomable reason no matter her brashness and her harshness, Melissa cares.

Liked it? You can find all of my fanfiction on my fanfiction masterlist!

[starkstruck27]

Okay wait, but I've got another idea: a Gravity Falls AU. Recently I've been rewatching the show, and I think it has a lot of similarities to ST, so I've been thinking...

Robin and Steve are twins (fraternal, with Robin being two minutes older, and I'm thinking they're, like, 16 or 17 in this AU) and they're sent by their parents to stay with their crazy uncle Hopper over the summer. They live in Chicago, but Uncle Hopper lives in the sleepy little town of Hawkins, and is kind of a mystery. He owns a tourist trap called the Oddity Emporium, and even though he's kind of a stingy, crotchety older guy, he loves them, and the Emporium is where they live.

Robin and Steve move into the bedroom in the attic, and as soon as they get settled, they start to notice some oddities outside of the museum. First, Robin swears she sees a fairy flying around when they're exploring the woods, then Steve is convinced that one of the statues in the town square is in a different position when he comes out of the supermarket, but they have no proof. They try to chalk it up to their uncle's place just messing with their heads, but then, they're exploring the woods one day, and Steve trips and falls into a ditch.

Robin immediately climbs down to check on her brother, and he's fine, but he hit his head on something and they decide to check it out. It turns out to be a chest buried at the bottom of the ditch, and when they finally pry the ancient lock open, they find a book inside.

Steve isn't impressed at first. It's a weird book, what's so special about it? But Robin cracks it open and they start to read, both amazed by what they find. It's some kind of journal, apparently the third in a set, that has a mysterious unknown author, and it details all of the weird creatures and supernatural goings-on that make Hawkins so weird.

At first they don't want to tell anyone about it, not even Uncle Hopper. They don't know why the book was buried, but it seems like there was a reason, right? Maybe it's a government conspiracy or something. But they study it together, trying to figure out who in the crazy little town might have something to do with writing it.

They become friends with Eddie, another guy a little older than them who works at the Oddity Emporium as a handyman/cashier/whatever else is needed of him, and his friends, Gareth, Rich and Jeff. They're the cool kids in Hawkins, rowdy teenagers who just always seem to have the best hangout spots (including a secret ladder that leads to the roof of the Emporium) and the most fun of anyone else in the town. They also befriend some local kids who come with them on adventures, Dustin, Will, Lucas, Erica and Mike. They're all younger than Robin and Steve, but they're pretty cool, and they're more accustomed to the weirdness that plagues the town, so they're pretty awesome to have around.

There's also Mrs. Byers, who runs the diner in town, and her other son Jonathan, who is kind of friends with Eddie and his gang. Jonathan is also Will's older brother, so he and his girlfriend Nancy often tag along on adventures. And of course there's El, the psychic girl who is the centerpiece of the other tourist attraction in town, the Hut of Hypnotism. Her dad and Uncle Hopper have been in a war for best tourist attraction for years, but because El made real friends and doesn't like using her powers (which no one knows how she got) just for him to make money, Hopper often comes out on top. There's the local cops, Powell and Callahan, who are not great at their jobs, but perfect for comedic relief, and finally, the local kook, another hermit who lives in a shack in the woods named Old Man Murray.

Robin and Steve get to know the people of the town pretty quickly, and they find them all pretty amusing for the most part. Even Old Man Murray has his good points. But there's one person that they meet a few weeks into their stay that they simply cannot stand. Billy Hargrove, the rich asshole who's great great grandfather apparently founded the town.

Billy seems just as awful as his parents, who live in the mansion atop the hill with him and his sister, but they kind of have to put up with him, because his little sister is friends with the other kids they're friends with, and he's told to keep an eye on her. But he's still a jerk, snarky and always acting like he's better than everyone else because his family is rich, and he loves to be the center of attention. But as the summer continues and they battle more and more weird monsters, Steve and Robin start to think that he's not so bad.

Especially Steve. Sure, they had a rough start, but after fighting a horde of Goblins, uncovering an ancient tomb with a mummified Native American Chief inside, and working together to capture a vampire that's haunting the old wing of the Hargrove mansion, they've kind of bonded whether they like it or not.

It's about halfway through the summer when things start to get really weird. Firstly, Steve and Robin had to time travel over and over again to make sure the timeline stayed correct and so Steve would still get to keep the pet goat he'd won at the county fair. It was a whole thing. Then, they find out that El's dad, in order to try and get a leg up on Hopper and try and destroy his business, had the second of the three journals, and they had to fight not only the man himself to get it from him, but also some kind of dream demon that went by the name Henry Creel and seemed to enjoy toying with them. They didn't defeat the demon, but he told them that he'd leave them alone until they became important, so they tried to forget about him. And finally, they tell Uncle Hopper about the books, which he laughs off and says is fake, but that some of the things in it would make great attractions at the Emporium. Robin and Steve know the truth, though, and still use the journals to their advantage every time they need to.

Finally, the summer is two thirds done, and Steve and Robin have three major problems: One, they're still no closer to finding the author of the journals. Two, Henry is back, and he's hinting at something big coming soon. Three, Steve has developed a huge, embarrassing, inexplicable crush on Billy Hargrove.

When Robin first finds out about that third one, she groans and tries to remind Steve that all summer Billy was a jerk to him and that they have bigger problems to worry about. But Steve tries to tell her that Billy is changed, he's not really as big a jerk as everyone says and he knows it sounds crazy, but he's pretty sure Billy likes him back. Robin rolls her eyes at first and just tries to focus on their other mission, finding out who wrote the journals, but she can't do it by herself. Every time she tries, Henry appears in her dreams and throws her off course, and it's getting annoying and, quite frankly, terrifying. But eventually Steve returns to help her and they find out that the answer lies much closer to home than they'd realized.

They're walking around the Emporium one day when Robin drops something and it rolls under the porch. She and Steve crawl under to get it, but their combined weight causes a bit of the ground to collapse and they fall into a basement they didn't know was under the Emporium. They're confused, because it doesn't look like the kind of place that Uncle Hopper would have under his house, almost like a bunker of sorts. But the real surprise is when they find not only the journals that they showed Hopper and he never gave back, but the first one, too. He had it all that time.

They're obviously pissed, so they grab the books and find the way upstairs, using an elevator that leads them to a staircase that opens up into the (thankfully empty) gift shop of the Emporium behind the vending machine. They find their uncle and demand an explanation, and he finally tells them the truth.

His daughter was an incredibly intelligent girl. She was always looking for adventures and documenting her findings in the very books they were holding in their hands. This was all before they were born, so they never met their cousin Sara, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Hopper told them that she got in too deep with her mystery hunting, and she encountered Henry Creel long before they did. Only, she made a deal with him, a bad one, and she ended up dead.

Hopper says that the official story that ran in the newspapers was that she had brain cancer, and an aneurysm is what took the young girl away so suddenly. But Hopper knew the truth. Something in those books had killed his little girl, and he didn't know if it was still out there, but he hoped that if he could hide the books well enough, no one would be able to use them to go looking for it. He kept only one for himself, just wanting to hold onto some little piece of her, because it was her greatest passion, and it was all he had left.

After he tells the twins the story, they tell him that they've encountered the same demon, and that it wasn't even their fault, but that they've beat him before. Hopper is amazed, and asks how they did it, but they say they aren't exactly sure, they just knew they didn't give up until he surrendered.

Hopper is still amazed, but he tells them that if they ever encounter the demon again, they're not to engage with him, because he's smart, and he has no qualms about killing for his own gain. He also tells them that he doesn't want them going around looking for any other weird creatures or anything, because if they get caught in some kind of trouble, he doesn't know how to help them and he doesn't want them getting hurt. They say they won't, but they both know they're lying.

Especially when, two days later, Henry comes back, and he says that it's time. He visits them in a dream they end up sharing, and says he's got big plans coming, so he's gonna give them some advice. He tells Robin that she thinks too much, and she should learn to clear her head. Then he tells Steve to keep his friends close, his family closer, and his enemies closest. Then he disappears, and the twins wake up together, scared and confused. But they know that whatever Henry is planning, it's up to them to stop it.

It's a week before they're set to go back home that it happens. They're not sure how, but some sort of rift in the fabric of the universe allows Henry's hellscape of a dimension to leak into theirs, and even more horrifying creatures than the ones they've already seen that summer (and that's saying something, considering they've encountered shapeshifters and bears with multiple heads) start infesting Hawkins and walking around like they own the place. Robin and Steve are both terrified, but they know they have to help fix it, so they start trying to figure out how.

They know it's going to be different than the first time they fought him. That time, they were I the mindscape, where whatever they could imagine would happen, and they could conjure weapons and such. But this time, they're in reality, and they have to rely on their wits and whatever they can scrounge up around them to fight with. They don't know how, but they know they've got to do it.

Finally, they're almost ready to confront the dream demon and fight him with their friends, but before they can get close enough for even one swing at him, he stops them, and starts to monologue, as villains do. He says that it's cute that they thought there was strength in numbers, and he says that that's not how he plays the game. He reminds them of the advice he gave them, and says they're going to need it if they want to save their friends, who he has levitating off the ground by now, all of them frozen and looking terrified. He says that they're going to play a game, and their friends are taken away, flying off to somewhere else in the labyrinth of a palace Henry's built for himself. He tells them that he put one of their friends in each different room of the place, and that they're going to have to go through one room at a time to attempt to save them. Each room will get more and more difficult, and they'll each take a wing of the palace to go through, they can't do it together. They'll get three tries to answer each riddle, and if they can't, then their friend in that room will die an agonizing death. Robin and Steve are terrified, but they stand their ground, and say that they'll do it.

Henry is all too delighted, and tells them that if they manage to do it and get all their friends out alive, then he'll allow them a chance to try and beat him. He's clearly doubting their abilities, and entirely too amused for their liking, but they know it's their only choice, so they accept. And as such, the games begin.

They each get seven rooms. The riddles for Robin start easy, but the answers are so simple that she begins to overthink them, and it almost costs her her second room. But she remembers the advice Henry gave her, and she knows the stakes. She also knows that he never gave them a time limit, so until she's sure she's got the answer, she doesn't even chance it. She saves Mrs. Byers first, then Jonathan, Mike, El, and Erica. The second to last room is occupied by Eddie, and it's one of the simplest riddles, but Robin almost loses again because of the overthinking. She is down to her final try when she finally gets it and saves him, and is finally sent on to her last room, which contains her uncle Hopper. She is timed on that one, but even under the pressure, she's noticed a pattern to all the riddles, they all have something to do with fire, so she figures it out by process of elimination, and saves her uncle.

Meanwhile, Steve is faring a little differently. He doesn't just get riddles with simple answers like his sister, his riddles all have something to do with the person he's trying to save. Something that he would only know if he knew them well. He figures out that this is what Henry meant by "keep your friends close", and once he figures that out, it's pretty much a cakewalk. He saves Nancy, then Murray, then Lucas, Will, Max and Dustin. Finally, he gets to the last room, and he finds Billy inside. This is the hardest room for him, and even though he's not timed, he only gets one chance to get this one right. He thinks about all the other riddles, all of them having to do with either some fear the person had or some kind of thing that could be used against them somehow. And this riddle is one that hardly makes any sense, where the others were mostly pretty simple. Steve tries to break it down bit by bit, like his math teacher taught him to do when they were doing a tough problem, and he finally figures it out. It's asking for the one thing that would make Billy surrender anything for. Steve gives his answer, and it's correct.

After that, Billy drops back to the floor, and the two of them, as well as Robin, Hopper, and everybody else, are teleported back in front of Henry, who is only slightly ticked off that Robin and Steve have figured it all out. But, he plays fair, and tells them that they can take their shot at him. Robin and Steve can't do any kind of sibling communication between their minds, but they did make up a secret language when they were kids, so throughout the battle, they're able to communicate without Henry understanding what they're saying or planning. They talk about the riddles, how all of Robin's had something to do with fire and how Steve's all had something to do with how to gain the upper hand on each of the people he'd saved. It only takes them a second to figure out that Henry was testing them that whole time, because it wasn't just about them being able to save their friends.

It was about seeing if they were smart enough to figure out what his weakness was.

Ultimately, Henry's cockiness led to his own downfall, because as soon as they figured out that fire was his weakness, they found a way to light the sucker up. It hadn't been easy, and they didn't escape unscathed, but once Henry went down, so did all of his minions.

They didn't remember much after that, both of them being too tired and too worried about their friends and the rest of the townsfolk to worry about what happened then, but from what they can guess, Henry died and all of his demons were sucked back into the portal they came out of, and the town was restored to its former glory. There were still weird creatures all around, and it took them a while to repair some of the damage done to buildings and such, but for the most part, Hawkins just went back to being Hawkins.

Soon enough, it was their last day in town, and as they packed up their things and tried to prepare themselves to say goodbye to their friends, they got to talking about Henry and his game again. Robin tells him about how she almost messed up and lost twice, and he comforts her and tells her that she didn't, so it didn't matter, and even if she had messed up, it wouldn't have been on her, it would've been on Henry. She says she knows, but it's still hard, and then she asks him what his hardest riddle was. Steve tells her about the final riddle, how he only got one shot to get it right, and how twisted up the words were so that he almost wasn't able to figure it out. Eventually though, he found out that it was asking for Billy's one weakness, and at this point, Robin interrupts with a scoff and asks how he managed to figure that out.

And now, Steve finally comes clean with her, telling her that after the whole vampire fiasco earlier in the summer, he and Billy started seeing each other. He says that all summer, he'd been wanting to find a nice girl or guy to have a summer romance with, and he finally found it in Billy, and it was around then that he started to get more involved with her and the journal stuff before the shit hit the fan, because he finally had something. He says that he told Billy about Henry once and how he always tries to figure out your weakness to exploit it (in their case, it was the people they cared about) and he says that Billy told him his only weakness would be him and Max. He'd laughed it off as a joke at the time, but he couldn't have been more relieved about it when it finally came down to that stupid riddle. And he's glad he's telling Robin now, because it felt weird to lie to her all that time and now he doesn't have to any more. And Robin is happy for him, really. After all his failed summer romances that she had to bear witness to, she's glad he found someone that made him happy. Even if it was Billy Hargrove.

Finally, their conversation ends, and they have to start getting ready to say goodbye to everybody. They head out to the bus stop that's gonna take them home and everyone is there waiting for them. The kids are all hugging them over and over and practically sobbing as they make them promise to write, the young adults are all hugging them and telling them they had so much fun over the summer and they better come back next year, and the adults are loading them down with snacks for the trip and making sure they've got everything packed. Uncle Hopper even makes sure that Steve's pet goat that he won at the fair is cleared to go home with them (their parents don't know yet and he may have had to threaten the bus driver, but it's for his nephew, so who cares).

And then finally it comes time for them to board the bus. Robin is crying and refusing to let go of Uncle Hopper, the two of them forming a bond over the summer that she says better not be broken by the time they come back next summer. And Steve is emotional, too, over Hopper and everybody else there. But the person that makes him cry the most is Billy. He makes him promise to call all the time, and invites him to come stay with them in Chicago sometime and says that he'll be back to visit as soon as he can manage. Billy promises that all that will happen, and then, just before Steve has to board the bus, he hands him a little present wrapped up in tissue paper. Steve is about to open it, but Billy stops him, and says with a blush pinker than the bubblegum Robin is chewing that he should wait to open it until the next time he misses Hawkins.

That time comes on the bus ride home, after Robin falls asleep next to him and everybody in Hawkins is miles away. It's a scrapbook that Billy must've put together himself, with an entire page dedicated to everybody important and all kinds of pictures from throughout the summer, even before they got together. He got everybody to sign it, and the very last page is just a letter telling him he'll miss him and he's already looking forward to next summer.

Steve can't help the dopey smile on his face as he gets off the bus and immediately runs to a payphone to tell Billy how much he loves it and how many plans he's already making for next year.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 8 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Carlos Martinez  

"Damn, Martinez. You move fast."

Chief Laura Coleridge eyes the backpack of belongings beside my chair and Turner scowls. 

He'd brought me with him to the station, where I hung around awkwardly while he wrote a lengthy report before hauling me into the chief's office.

"It's temporary," Turner says.

"Just until we figure this out."

Coleridge leans back in her chair and fiddles with a pen. 

"So, Martinez. Who did you piss off this time?"

"More than usual?" I give her a weak smile and shrug.

"No idea."

"Hmm. Well, all I can say is you better get this case wrapped up air tight, Turner. I don't want it falling apart in court because someone finds out the key witness has been living with the lead detective."

Turner's scowl deepens. 

"It's just until we can get him in a safe house."

"A safe house?" Coleridge barks a laugh.

"What kind of budget do you think we're working with here, Turner? You want him in a safe house, you're it."

"What about Witness Protection?"

Coleridge shakes her head. 

"You know the hoops we'd have to jump through for that to happen. Might as well say it's not happening. You want my advice? Solve this case fast, and use every asset available to you."

She turns to me.

"Speaking of assets. You ready to sign that consulting contract?"

I see she's already got it printed out a ready for me and reach for a pen with a sigh. 

A wise man knows when he's beat.

"Make yourself at home"

I look around. 

Usually, when I visit a friend's place and they say ‘make yourself at home’ or something along those lines, it's easy enough to tell what they mean. 

They'll indicate a squishy old sofa or open the fridge to show what's on offer or gesture at the state of chaos as if to say, 

"See? Go ahead. Nothing you do could possibly make this worse."

Turner does none of those things. 

He just hangs his jacket on a peg by the door and sits on a cushioned bench to remove his shoes. 

Mimicking him, I do the same.

"Wow," I say.

"I didn't know police-work paid this well."

I had been surprised when Turner took the highway out of town and up into the mountains to one of the gated communities where rich people have second homes and even more surprised when he'd parked in the garage of one of the more ostentatious examples thereof. 

The place looked like a mansion pretending to be a bungalow.

Whole pine log pillars and a river-stone facade gave it the illusion of being built from the land and quaint touches like shuttered windows and a steeply gabled roof gave it cute mountain cabin vibes. 

At the same time, there was no mistaking it for anything but a luxury home.

"It doesn't," Turner says, rising and padding through the flag-stone entryway in his sock-clad feet.

"This is my brother's place."

"Oh." 

I follow him into a spacious living area of cream sofa sets, polished pine floors, large glass windows and tasteful accents. 

A painting of birch trees in autumn hangs above a stone fireplace and the coffee table looks like a piece of modern art. 

"This doesn't seem like your style. What's your brother do?"

"Nothing. He's dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry. When did he...?"

"Last year. Before that he was a high-powered attorney in L.A. He left all his money and property to his partner but for some reason, he left his vacation home to me."

"Wow. I guess it's lucky he vacationed in the town where you work."

Turner shoots me a look and I wince. 

‘Lucky’ isn't a word to use right after someone tells you someone close to them died.

"Sorry. What I mean is..."

"It's not a coincidence," he says.

"It's the reason I took this job but you're right. I don't believe in luck or fate but the fact is everything happened at once. My brother died, my wife divorced me, I inherited this place, I saw a job opening. I needed a place to live and a fresh start. Things worked out."

"Still... I'm sorry for your loss."

Turner shrugs and surveys the room, as if taking it in for the first time. 

"Quinn and I weren't on good terms. When I got the letter of inheritance, I expected it to contain a big fat 'fuck you' not the deed to a house. Come on... I show you upstairs."

Thrown by the abrupt change in subject, I follow him up a broad, curving flight of stone steps with a banister of light, natural wood. 

At the top is an open area overlooking the floor below and a brightly lit hallway with a huge, sliding glass door at the other end, which opens onto an expansive redwood deck.

"That's my room," he says, pointing to a door along the hall.

"You can go anywhere in the house, except in there."

"Is that where you keep the enchanted rose?"

"What?"

"You know. From Beauty and the Beast."

He scowls at me, unamused. 

"No. It's where I keep my private shit, which I don't want strangers poking their noses in. Understand?"

I raise my hands and take a step back. 

"Yeah, yeah. I understand."

"Good." 

He points at the three doors on the opposite side of the hall. 

"Two spare bedrooms. Bathroom's in the middle. Take your pick. I'll let you get settled in."

He returns downstairs, leaving me a bit lost. 

Nothing more awkward than feeling like an unwanted guest.

I turn to the spare rooms. 

Both doors are paneled in light wood with brushed bronze knobs.

"Eenie, meenie, minie, mo," I say and pick the one on the right, nearer the sliding glass doors.

The room is nice, probably the nicest place I've ever stayed and after sitting on the big four-poster bed for a bit and standing at the windows to admire the expensive view, reality starts to catch up to me.

I can't stay here.

Aside from the fact Turner can barely stand to look at me, I can't just hide while someone else solves my problems. 

I got bills to pay and mouths to feed (if you count the stray cats who live in the empty lot out back). 

‘No rest for the wicked.’

Suddenly exhausted I flop back on the bed and shut my eyes.

‘One night,’ I tell myself.

‘You can play Cinderella for one night, Carlos. Then it's back to work. Don't think the prince is coming for you either because this shoe clearly doesn't fit.’

~ ★ ~

"You got a death wish, Martinez?" Detective Turner asks, staring at me over a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza.

He'd had it delivered, which I'd discovered when I awoke from an accidental nap and came downstairs to find it was already dinnertime.

We're sitting at the long dining room table and with the blinds drawn, some blues playing from a hidden sound system and the news playing muted on a giant TV, it feels almost cozy.

"No, I want to live, obviously but if my business fails, I don't know how I'll afford to do that."

"You see ghosts, right?"

"Yeah...?" I lift a brow at him.

"You ever met a ghost who runs a business?"

I chomp on a bite of pizza and scowl at him, point taken.

Detective Turner huffs. 

"I didn't think so."

I set my food down. 

It's good, really good and I haven't had really good pizza in a long time but I don't have much appetite at the moment. 

"You own this place free and clear?"

He frowns but answers me. 

"Yeah. My brother did, anyway."

"Must be nice. Someday I'd like a place of my own. Not as big as this but more than a room over an auto-garage. You know what I mean?"

He leans back in his chair, regarding me.

 "I do, actually. My brother made a lot of money fast and I haven't done too bad myself but we grew up poor. Like, trailer park and food-stamps poor. So, yeah. I know what you mean.” 

I nod and lean forward. 

"Look... John," I say, taking his first name for a spin.

"I get paid to fix cars. No fixed cars means no money. No money means no food or utilities or phone or anything. Understand? I can't afford to hide."

He lifts a brow at me and takes a swig of beer. 

"Did you even read all those forms you signed?"

I wince. 

"No. It was a little hard to concentrate."

"So I'm guessing you didn't notice the rate of pay."

I shake my head.

"Fifty-six dollars an hour, Martinez. That's a few bucks above the national average for a police consultant. Granted, the hours are irregular. Some days you might work sixteen straight. Other days, none. But it evens out to a fair wage."

I frown at him. 

"Even so. How am I supposed to work at all if I'm hiding out here?"

"You won't be. You'll be with me."

"I will?"

He nods. 

"I haven't been here long but one thing I've already learned is that the chief gets what the chief wants and for whatever reason, the chief wants us to work together. So, we'll work together and I'll keep you safe. Tomorrow, for example, I'd like to retrace Kyle's steps on the day of his murder, try to piece together everywhere he went, everything he did. I'd also like to interview all of your mutual acquaintances, I'll need a list, if you don't mind. That's a twelve hour day, at least. You up for it?"

I do the math and my eyes go wide.

Turner's mouth quirks in a sharp smile. 

"That's more than you make in most weeks, with all the discounts you've been handing out."

"How you know that?"

He shrugs. 

"Had a look at your books. I thought you were my guy, remember?"

He makes eye contact and holds it and I feel my face flush. 

He's more relaxed than I've seen him so far and as I catch a glimpse of the man beneath the armor, warning lights go off in my brain. 

He's smoking hot and dangerous like fire and I can see myself falling hard and getting badly burned.

"So, why you doing work on the cheap if you need the money so bad?" he asks.

I shrug and take another drink of beer to steady my nerves and get my wandering thoughts in line. 

"Gotta build my customer base. I lose some money upfront but I get their loyalty in the long run, you know?"

Turner shakes his head. 

"Nah. In my experience, you give people something for free and they come to expect not to pay. So, are you my guy or not?"

I blink and then the rational part of my brain kicks in and tells me he's talking about working together. 

"I'm your guy, yeah. But I'm not doing it for the money."

For the first time since I met him, he grins wolfishly.

"Now that, I believe"

I clear my throat. 

"Uh, can I ask something, though?"

He nods. 

"Shoot."

"Call me Carlos, okay?"

He stands and walks towards me, pausing by my chair. 

I find myself frozen in place and keep my eyes on my plate as he rests a hand on my shoulder, hot as a brand through my shirt.

"Know your worth, Carlos and don't ask for anything less."

Mouth dry and feeling like my life hangs in the balance, I nod.

He pats my shoulder. 

"Be up by six a.m.. I like to get an early start."

I remain where I am as he wanders off, not daring to move until I hear a door open and shut somewhere deeper in the house.

As far as I know, I've only met one Alpha Werewolf in my life and despite the stereotype, he's a pretty chill guy.

John Turner is closer to what I'd imagined. 

I feel like if he snapped his fingers he could have me on my knees and like he knows it, too.

My life might be safe with him but my heart?

I let my head hang back on my shoulders and release the tension with my breath.

"The fuck have I gotten myself into now?" 

[thekimspoblog]

Here's that conversation I was having with that guy before he blocked me.

The short version of my spinoff is just "Kim falls in with a televangelist in the process of trying to get Jimmy released" hijinks ensue as always.

Thay sounds amazinf

By the end of S1 of Slippin Kimmy, she has maneuvered her way to being the head of treasury for the church and the estate. To which she has 0 loyalty and sees the job itself as one large grift so she promptly uses the resources to have Iris.

Fair they would have to be those crazy evangelicals

It's a more progressive evangelical church tho. The church draws a lot from pop culture to draw in a less religious crowd. I created a fictional sect: The Unitarian Riverton Interfaith church led by pastor Caleb Dawson. The church functions partially as a populist movement against the rich, which was why it was so easy to convince the followers to carry "Free McGill" signs.

*Riverton Unitarian Interfaith Church

Or RUIC for short

Jan 23 5:12 PM

Do they know jimmy was working for a drug lord?

You mean Walt?

Yeah

A lawyer has the right to defend his client, right? Even the guilty ones. The DEA is just going after Walt's living associations because they were embarrassed he was right under their nose. And besides, regardless of what Jimmy confessed to in court, when the big picture is taken into account, he got involved in the cartel under duress. That's the party line at least. He's the little guy! The big bad government is always stepping on the little guy. And wasn't Walt too a victim of the broken system? I'm half joking, but if Kim can pull a letter writing campaign for Huell out of fat air, it sure as hell can be done for a guy who actually helped people. Equal or greater number of people he hurt notwithstanding.

I'm pulling everything from the Hillsong church to the Rajneeshpurnam for inspiration.

Ohh ok yeah thay does make sense

Why Dawson wanted Kim specifically for this job when he probably could have found a more willing patsy, that part of the story needs tightening. Right now all I can say is "because she's got X factor". I mean Dawson has a history in Albuquerque, Kim accidentally got Dawson's attention, and he needed someone smart who could understand his breadcrumb trail of instructions. But it's still obviously a plot contrivance to boot the main character back into play.

Whos the main character

Jimmy?

Kim

Oh ok

It does sound super interesting

Why does he need kim to hep him?

The specifics of Dawson's elaborate plan are still sort of in flux. But I want something along the lines of "He was planning to assassinate a senator and business rival and wanted to ensure his flock was taken care of if something happened to him". Maybe he was going to make a show of trying to rehabilitate Jimmy only to scapegoat him for the murder? When Dawson first approaches Kim, the proposal seems less dangerous - she helps him sabotage some competing churches in the area, maybe fake a few miracles for publicity stunts, and in return he can use his pull to get Jimmy released on house arrest. Nothing even illegal. Kim is skeptical why he's helping her, but he makes a compelling argument of knowing just what to say to her, and partially even if Kim knows it's a bad idea in her gut she doesn't care. But I have this idea in my head. Where Dawson left Kim a set of steps she was supposed to carry out some sort of contingency plan in the event something with the attack went wrong, to shield the woman who carried out the attack legally. But the problem is Kim didn't figure out she was supposed to take these steps until it was too late and so the woman meets a rather depressing end.

Ohhh I see ok its making sense

This seems like a good small town conspiracy vibe

At least to me

Exactly. I wanted to set it in a midwestern county which IRL has less than 600 population, because it would give me more freedom to tell a story which was both outlandish and still felt possible.

Yeah man the stories and small town conspiracies I’ve come across in my research is crazy

Dawson is obviously shady as soon as he's introduced, but he doesn't actually end up being the antagonist. I'm planning to kill him off as early as episode 4. The climactic confrontation Kim has is instead with Mary, his most loyal follower. Someone who was pushed into violence by the promise of justice, only for her to lose everything, her leader to abandon her, and then for her to posthumously learn he was manipulating her for reasons of business, not morality or politics like he led her to believe.

Oh so like typical cult stuff?

Most cults don’t start to be cults

The “leader” doesn’t wanna be leader he just wanted money

And once they go they leave behind zealots

I'm not trying to to lean into full on cult. There are lots of politically radicalized churches across America. Most right wing, but not all. Dawson has his fingers in a lot of pies but the town's not a monopoly. They're not all dressed alike. And Dawson is/was a complicated man. A lot of what he preached, he believed. And he believed he needed money to shape his utopia. The murder victim, Senator Cooke, was an asshole and a desk job murderer, and his policies where hurting people. It was easy for Dawson to convince Mary that as a fracking CEO, Cooke was to blame for the destruction of Mary's house, because that was the truth. Dawson just withheld the part that Dawson also had shares in fracking and killing Cooke was partially about a land dispute.

And then in Kim's defining moment, instead of helping Mary she tries to turn her in. And by Season 2 Mary has gone insane living on the lam. Now depending on how an audience member feels about killing fracking CEOs, they might consider turning Mary in the morally correct thing for Kim to do. And harboring a fugitive probably wouldn't have ended well if Kim had tried anyway. But it's still not supposed to feel good. I'm trying to tell a story where moment to moment nothing Kim does is wrong, but when you take a step back she benefitted from a group of people who believed in her and then was reluctant to take responsibility for the flock she amassed.

Shes not the step mother

Shes the mothet who didn’t step

🤣🤣

I haven't seen that meme. But yeah, in BCS, I feel like Kim has a lot of flaws the narrative doesn't really seem to care about. Like being sexually aroused by con artistry - you can call that a character flaw, but it's more like a quirk which the show wouldn't function without. But she does have things which make her actually an aggravating person - hypocrisy and indecisiveness about her own priorities. And I just wish we could get a lot more breathing room for her to make enemies organically that way: do the right things for the wrong reasons, do the wrong things for the right reasons, etc. Cognitive dissonance wasn't exactly something she'd fixed about herself by the end of BCS, so why wouldn't she just keep letting other people get their hands dirty on her behalf?

Yeah that does make sense in the show she had to like home grown enemies

Ig you could say swchweichart or however u spell it but they were like all good it was only like a 1-2 episode thing