#late start fanfic

[thrythlind]

Tendou Kasumi - Late Start Version

Okay, so, before we begin let's go ahead set some basic information here first.

Who is Tendou Kasumi?

Kasumi is a supporting character from the 80s manga Ranma 1/2 by Rumiko Takahashi and the anime it is based on. She is a character who exhibits several traits of the yamato nadeshiko trope which represents an idealized Japanese housewife. In the manga, she can be witnessed to have tendency toward biting sarcasm when responding to other characters, but this was mostly lost in the anime where she is the perpetually kind and calm woman who acts as a surrogate mother for her sisters and father.

She is one of the only characters without any hint of martial arts prowess or observable supernatural trait save in just how kind and patient she is.

What is the premise of Ranma 1/2?

Ranma 1/2 is about a teenaged martial artist named Ranma Saotome who has received a curse where they change gender when they get wet. Cold water turns them into a girl and hot water turns them into a boy. Through the machinations of his absolutely terrible father, Ranma has at least two fiancees: the daughter of his father's longtime friend and the friend he had as a child while they were starting their training trip.

Kasumi is the eldest of the friend's daughters and her youngest sister, Akane, is the usual fiancee of the agreement. The middle sister Nabiki has occasionally claimed the role as part of some scheme to her advantage. Ranma has another fiancee due to getting tangled up in the laws of another culture and has a fourth admirer in the form of a mentally ill rich girl. In addition Ranma's girl side is desired by the mentally ill brother of said rich girl. A long time rival of Ranma's has a crush on Akane, and a childhood acquaintance has a crush on the foreign girl pursuing Ranma.

The manga is a satire poking fun at the standard tropes of teenage romances as well as martial arts stories. It blows a lot of these things out of proportion. The anime loses a lot of the satire and mostly focuses on the immediate humor, romance subplots, and fight scenes directly. The success of Ranma is at least one reason for the emergence of the Harem genre where the convoluted romance subplots are done unironically.

What is Late Start?

Late Start is a fanfic I wrote to get myself back into writing a bit after some burnout. It is currently unfinished, but the premise was that instead of coming to the Tendou dojo at age 16, that Ranma instead doesn't learn about the Tendous or the marriage agreements until he's 20. And indeed, Akane and Ranma first meet at a martial arts tournament and hit it off.

The idea was to do the characters without a lot of the teenage confusion. Where they're on more equal footing power-wise, more mature, and have had more time to settle their own issues.

Among other things, each of the Tendou sisters has their own curse. Akane is bound up with a lightning spirit, Nabiki is a vampire, and Kasumi is an oni. While two of those are just made up, Kasumi really did spend some time during the manga and anime possessed by an oni. It operated by trying to draw out and feed on the evil of the people it possessed, and in Kasumi's case that meant doing things that would be considered cruel "pranks" but not nearly to the level of evil one would expect from an oni.

Spoiler for the fanfic necessary to understand the build:

In Late Start, when the oni tried to finally consume her she managed to fight back, but in the process she became an oni. She's convinced her family that she's human and the horns are just a remnant of the possession. However, she is in truth a being of darkness and chaos. Unlike the prior oni, however, compassion is at her core rather than cruelty. This kind of passes since her vampire sister Nabiki is largely just a civilian so not really anybody dangerous.

Kasumi has also joined the Templars (Secret World rather than Assassin's Creed) and secretly investigates and prevents occult disasters while telling her family she goes to a LARP society that copies the MMO "The Secret World" which includes the Templars, Illuminati, and Dragons (I think a made up secret society for the game). So, when Kasumi is not keeping the home, she's basically dressing like this and hunting bad guys. (pictures that follow are a screencap from City of Heroes: Homecoming, a commissioned piece of art by Silky Noire, and a screencap from Secret World Legends, the free-to-play version of the original MMO)

So... I'm going to go ahead and build a version of Late Start Kasumi for Scion as an Origin but give her a quick simulated shift to her visitation and a Hero when she joins the Templars. She's not going to have a Pantheon, instead having a Covenant with the Templars.

The Build

Step One: Concept

Kasumi Tendou is a human woman who turned the tables on a possessing entity that had sought to claim a physical body all of its own. She was willing to share, but the entity only played along with that until it felt strong enough to consume her. Along the way it taught her some conceptual magic. She failed to convince it to share, and she realized she couldn't keep both herself alive and prevent the transformation of her body, so she conceded the change and sneakily focused on being the sole survivor. Leaving her a physically embodied oni with a soul that still possesses primarily human experiences.

She draws sustenance from the friendliness and good will surrounding her as she refuses to take in hate, anger, or fear to sustain herself and risk becoming another evil. Eventually, she comes to the attention of the Templars and joins them. Since then she's been able to receive holy water and blessed rice and draws sustenance from the blessings imparted to the food.

Step Two: Paths

Primary Path: A Creature of Chaos and Compassion Skills: Occult, Subterfuge, Empathy

Secondary Path: Eldest Sister of the Tendou Family Skills: Culture, Integrity, Persuasion

Tertiary Path: Lost Two Battles to win the War Skills: Integrity, Occult, Subterfuge

Step Three: Skills

Based on the Paths and which we assigned as Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary. Primary skills get 3 dots, Secondary 2, Tertiary 1. Any skill that has 3 or higher gets a specialty. This by RAW is only at character creation, but we've generally played that getting to 3 comes with a free specialty as well, rather than making people pay for it.

Culture 2

Empathy 3 (Toxic Beliefs)

Integrity 3 (Kindness)

Occult 4 (Conceptual Magic)

Persuasion 2

Subterfuge 4 (Overlooked)

Step Four: Attributes

Kasumi's Favored approach is going to be Resilience. Primary will be social (6 dots), secondary Mental (3 dots), and tertiary Physical (2 dots). These each get one free dot, and the three Resilience attributes (Resolve, Composure, Stamina) get two free dots as the Favored approach.

Mental

Intellect 2

Cunning 3

Resolve 3

Physical

Might 2

Dexterity 2

Stamina 3

Social

Presence 3

Manipulation 4

Composure 4

Step Five: Calling and Knacks

At Origin she is going to have a single Calling typically if we were building her as a denizen she wouldn't get her Denizen trait and that's it. But we're building her as a scion with a Denizen origin. As for Pantheon... she's going to be a tutelary goddess. IE she's associated with a specific group of people rather than a pantheon. In this case the largely more benevolent version of the Templars that appears in the fanfic.

That said, I want to nod at her being both a denizen and a scion. So I'm giving her a Persistent Condition that causes her trouble. And I'm going to base this a bit on her hunger. She doesn't need food in the same way as humans do, but she still needs to feed.

Persistent Condition: Emotional Hunger: Kasumi must feed on the emotions and spirit of other beings. By preference she only feeds on kindness or other such emotions freely given to avoid taking more negative attitudes into herself. However, if isolated or among hostile beings for long, she may grow hungry and desperate. She can also feed on blessed food (such as holy water, blessed rice, or edible blessings) but it is possible to poison her with cursed food instead, possibly affecting her personality while digesting it. Add Momentum whenever her hunger causes her a problem.

I'm also giving her a second Persistent Condition. As these are a way to produce momentum at the "cost" of drama (oh no, something interesting happens), a second Persistent Condition is something you can only get with GM approval, but this is a theoretical, so let's go with it.

Persistent Condition: Oni Horns: Kasumi has oni horns. She can't hide them. They're always there. They're pointy. When they cause her trouble, add Momentum.

So, now, her Calling. Given the fact that she perceives the world as bundles of concepts and interacts solely on that level. Like she doesn't see with her eyes so much as she is aware of the concept of light and darkness or people walking through it. That feels very much like Sage. So that's what she's starting with. For her Knack, she's getting "Master of the World" to represent the already discussed perceptions.

Step Six: Finishing Touches

This is the end of the Origin character creation. So we do some figured characteristics.

Defense: relates to whichever Resilience attribute she is using to defend with and will thus be either 3 (Stamina or Resolve) or 4 (Composure)

Health: She has the basic Bruised, Injured, Maimed, and Taken Out health statuses. Due to having 3 Stamina, she has a second Bruised status.

And she gains the following:

Five Extra Skill dice: 1 to Empathy, 1 to Integrity, 1 to Culture, 1 to Persuasion, 1 to Athletics

One Extra Attribute die: to Presence

Either two more knacks or four points of Birthrights.

As she cannot use more than a single knack at the moment, but also I can't think of a particular birthright she has from the start. The prequel story I did of her implicated that she had to rebuild her place with her neighbors due to the horns, so the Cult feels like something that came later. Covenant feels like a Legend 1+ thing. Joining the Templars came later at her visitation. So, I'm giving her two more Sage knacks: Presence of Magic and Scent the Divine (available to all Scions) as further representations of how she perceives the world.

Tendou Kasumi - Possession Survivor

Primary Path: A Creature of Chaos and Compassion Skills: Occult, Subterfuge, Empathy

Secondary Path: Eldest Sister of the Tendou Family Skills: Culture, Integrity, Persuasion

Tertiary Path: Lost Two Battles to win the War Skills: Integrity, Occult, Subterfuge

Athletics 1

Culture 3 (Suburbs)

Empathy 4 (Toxic Concepts)

Integrity 4 (Kindness)

Occult 4 (Conceptual Magic)

Persuasion 3 (Gentle Nudge)

Subterfuge 4 (Overlooked)

Mental

Intellect 2

Cunning 3

Resolve 3

Physical

Might 2

Dexterity 2

Stamina 3

Social

Presence 4

Manipulation 4

Composure 4

Calling: Sage 1

General Knacks: Scent of the Divine

Sage Knacks: Master of the World, Presence of Magic

Now, on to Hero

Her visitation comes when she visits a Shinto shrine that is a front for the Templars and receives the invitation to join them. Her route toward that event did involve her instinctively closing a rift that something terrible was trying to slip in through, but mostly it was a social adventure. She spent a while making sure everyone in her neighborhood trusted her despite the clear oni horns on her head and working to break down some of the harmful traditions and concepts that had calcified around people in the area.

I'm going to say this was five sessions worth of game play and say she achieved:

Three short term deeds

One long term deed

One story milestone

Spent half or more the momentum pool five times

But no group experience rewards since it implies she didn't share her true nature with anybody and so I'm saying she did this solo.

Still that's 16 xp before reaching her visitation.

For the sake of humor, I'm going to say the Band deed was helping Nerima to become a healthier community and the Long-term deed was "face another supernatural creature". So she achieved her Band-term before the Long-term... which is a bit funny since Band-terms usually take longer.

Spending that Experience I'm doing the following:

Cult Birthright - 2 dots (10 experience)

Specialty - Empathy: Desires (3 experience)

Specialty - Integrity: Temptation (3 experience)

For the Cult Birthright I'm building it as follows:

Nerima Ward: Community

Light 2, Shadow: 1

Path Skills: Athletics, Culture, Occult (Nerima's a weird place y'all)

Tag: Temple (letting her get access easier to places around the neighborhood)

Responsibilities: Converse with residents and help their mental health.

Light Access Connection: Community center

Light Contact Connection: Shopkeepers

Shadow Contact Connection: The women of Nerima

Visitation

She gains the following from her visitation:

Two additional Callings and 4 Calling dots.

Additional Knacks up to 5 total. Plus any you gained from Finishing Touches. (So 7 total in this case)

Seven dots of birthrights

An Innate Purview

Assign Boons

Legend 1

Calling Keywords

Legendary Title

For her two additional Callings and Calling dots, I'm going with:

Liminal 1

Psychopomp 2

Sage 2

For the Knacks I'm going with (including Origin knacks):

General Knacks: Aura of Greatness (Empathy), Scent of the Divine

Liminal Knacks: Flatlander (to represent how she can bend the concepts of space time)

Psychopomp Knacks: Tending the Egg, This isn't Everything You Are (for how she recognizes where people have harmful preconceptions and tries to help them break past those.)

Sage Knacks: Presence of Magic, Master of the World

For the Seven Dots of Birthrights

Covenant 2 - Templars, Physical Representation: Hakuba Shrine, Enhancement two when dealing with Templars. Access to Covenant boons. Motif: Ancient Occult Knowledge

Relic 3 - Horns (Innate, Chaos and Darkness purviews) Motif: Whispers in to the Soul

Cult 2 - Templars (Conspiracy, Shadow 3, Mystery Society, Coven, Contact: Master Hakuba, Access: Hakuba Shrine)

Note these birthrights come with her first Motifs, these are the ways that Kasumi uses her purviews and magic. So, she can either apply the invocations and incantations taught to her by the Templars... or she can engage in intimate conversation where she encourages the other person to bare their soul.

For the Innate Purview

Passion (Compassion)

For Boons:

Chaos: Loosen Chains - Allows her to Imbue 1 Legend to clear a person's mind or soul from an unnatural corrupting influence. To make it permanent she must interrupt the source of the influence (by defeating the sorcerer, ghost, demon, talisman, etc) A possessing entity is forced out of the victim's body as long as this is sustained. (A variation of the Marvel to clear a Condition where she can imbue instead of spend Legend. Which means I had to make sustaining it necessary)

Passion Boon: Tugging at Heartstrings

Legend becomes one and now I am going to do Calling Keywords and her Legendary Title:

Liminal Keyward: Oni

Sage Keyword: Concept, Soul

Psychopomp: Guide, Kindness

And for her first Legendary Title: The Nerima Oni.

That gives us the following version of Kasumi as a newly recruited Templar agent of extreme potential. Now, the version of Kasumi that is in the fanfic is probably Legend 2 or 3, has learned to use a shotgun, has acquired a Mutation ability similar to a titanspawn, and is generally more powerful. But this would represent the start of her Templar career when she was more support than badass.

Tendou Kasumi - The Nerima Oni

Primary Path: A Creature of Chaos and Compassion Skills: Occult, Subterfuge, Empathy

Secondary Path: Eldest Sister of the Tendou Family Skills: Culture, Integrity, Persuasion

Tertiary Path: Lost Two Battles to win the War Skills: Integrity, Occult, Subterfuge

Legend 1

Title: The Nerima Oni

Keywords:

Liminal: Oni

Psychopomp: Guide, Kindness

Sage: Concept, Soul

Skills

Athletics 1

Culture 3 (Suburbs)

Empathy 4 (Toxic Concepts, Desires)

Integrity 4 (Kindness, Temptation)

Occult 4 (Conceptual Magic)

Persuasion 3 (Gentle Nudge)

Subterfuge 4 (Overlooked)

Attributes

Mental

Intellect 2

Cunning 3

Resolve 3

Physical

Might 2

Dexterity 2

Stamina 3

Social

Presence 4

Manipulation 4

Composure 4

Callings

Liminal 1

Psychopomp 2

Sage 2

Knacks

General Knacks: Aura of Greatness, Scent of the Divine

Liminal Knacks: Flatlander

Psychopomp Knacks: Tending the Egg, This isn't everything you are

Sage Knacks: Master of the World, Presence of Magic

Purviews

Covenant (Birthright)

Passion (Compasison) - Innate

Chaos (Horns Birthright)

Darkness (Horns Birthright)

Boons

Chaos Boons: Loosen Chains

Passion Boons: Tugging the Heart Strings

Birthrights

Nerima Ward - Cult 2

Foundation: Community

Tags: Temple

Light 2, Shadow 1

Light Contact Connection: Shopkeepers

Light Access Connection: Community Center

Shadow Contact Connection: The Women of Nerima

Templars - Covenant 2

Physical Representation of Oath: Hakuba Shrine

Enhancement +2 dealing with Templars

Access to Covenant Purview

Motif: Ancient Occult Knowledge

Templars - Cult 2

Foundation: Conspiracy

Tags: Mystery Society, Coven

Shadow 3

Shadow Access Connection: Hakuba Shrine

Shadow Contact Connection: Master Hakuba

Oni Horns - Relic 3

Part of her body

Motif: Whispers to the Soul

Chaos Purview

Darkness Purview

[thryth-gaming]

Late Start Tendou Kasumi - MotW

So a little bit ago, (the post before this one, in fact) I did a thing where I built the version of Tendou Kasumi from my fanfic Late Start using the rules of Scion 2e. That build is here and it describes who Tendou Kasumi is, what show she's from, and what the basics of my fanfic are. So I'm not going to retype that here.

I will, however, repost the pictures of her that were on that post.

Here I am going to rebuild her for the game Monster of the Week. I'm going to advance her a little bit further than I did for the Scion version (and may revisit that as well) to get her to the point of being the experienced Templar agent she is when the fanfic starts, 2 years after joining the Templars.

Actually instead of creating her at a starting point and advancing her through to the start of the fanfic, I'm going to do three starting versions of her.

Tendou Kasumi as she was before the Oni, basically as she was in the manga rather than my fanfic. Her youngest sister gets up to some crazy shenanigans but she's normal. This will be the Mundane.

Tendou Kasumi as she was after first becoming an oni. I thought about doing a version while she was possessed, but my thought is that period was short. This will be the Monstrous.

Tendou Kasumi as she is at the start of the fanfic, secretly a Templar agent now even able to take on solo missions. This will be the Initiate.

Note: I eventually decided that in order to be truer to the version in the fanfic, to instead advance Monstrous Kasumi up to being The Initiate. So I'm instead doing two starter versions and one experienced post-playbook change version.

First Version - Anime/Manga

At this point, she is 18 years old, her mother died when she was very young. This also left her father emotionally ruined so she had to step up take care of the family and has replaced her mother for years now. She hides whatever frustrations she feels under a beatific smile. Though she has also been known to vent sarcastic comments.

So, Kasumi is not fighter. She is impressively charming and someone almost nobody would even think about harming. She seems to be one of the most normal people in her social group, always keeps a cool head, and is a lot more observant than she appears to be.

So for her rating line we're going with: Charm +2, Sharp +1, Cool +1, Tough +0, Weird -1

So, in the original anime, Kasumi was almost never in danger. All the antagonists were as friendly to her as anybody else. The only definite exception to this was oni that possessed her during the manga (this also happened in the anime). So "Always the Victim" doesn't fit. "Panic Button" doesn't really fit either, because she never had to run anywhere, which also leaves out "Let's Get Out Of Here". I feel like "What could go wrong" might represent her ease with walking into dangerous situations. "Trust Me" also makes sense for the way she tries to give people advice (sometimes not the best advice, admittedly, given she initially advises her sister to be a proper feminine girl). I feel like "Oops" has more basis than either "Don't Worry I'll Check it Out" or "The Power of Heart" as she did sometimes find old scrolls and other strange things while cleaning the family dojo. So her moves look like this:

Moves: Oops, Trust Me, What Could Go Wrong.

For her Basic weird move, I'm going with something simple and low key: Trust Your Gut.

Tendou Kasumi - The Mundane

Charm +2

Cool +1

Sharp +1

Tough +0

Weird -1

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Trust Your Gut

Mundane Moves: Oops, Trust Me, What Could Go Wrong

Harm: 0/7 (Unstable at 4, Dead at 8)

Second Version - Late Start: Covenant

So, this is Kasumi at 20.

I did write a short side-story featuring this version of Kasumi, titled as seen above. So, in the original anime/manga, the oni storyline is mostly a goofy comedic one with the oni appearing as a goofy beach-ball shaped creature that didn't seem to be a serious threat.

It would possess people turning them into the worst versions of themselves. The oni would be kicked out of a victim by giving the victim a sharp hit. The possessed individual would present tiny oni horns.

When it possessed Kasumi her worst version of herself was limited to cruel "pranks" mostly against her father (who had happily let Kasumi sacrifice her own life in order to replace his wife for years) such as thumbtacks in the shoes or painful massages. Nobody was willing to hit Kasumi even to exorcise the oni. At one point it was revealed if the oni was removed from Kasumi she'd probably die.

In the manga, eventually a sutra was used to exorcise her. In the anime, the arrival of Happosai proved a more tempting source of evil and it left Kasumi of its own will. At this point it was revealed as a much more dangerous creature that was drawing on the evil energies of people to return to it's full power.

For the fanfic, I leaned into the anime-version that could become far more dangerous than the initial appearance but I changed things up. My thought here was it wanted to embody itself physically again, and planned to consume a human body in order to do so. It taught Kasumi enough tricks to play with conceptual reality in order to help ready her body for it to take over. Kasumi was willing to share her body with the oni and was enjoying the chance to stretch out of the role that had been forced on her. She didn't realize its betrayal until almost too late. At that point there were three Concepts that were in dispute.

(for this list "The Oni" refers to the specific unnamed oni that was the villain. "an oni" just means a creature of the same kind)

Both Kasumi and The Oni can live and share their body. Kasumi tried to reach this and failed to because it required cooperation from the oni.

The survivor would be either an embodied oni or a human. This is where the oni focused all of its attention on this concept. Kasumi presented a token resistance here and lost.

The survivor would be either Kasumi or The Oni. After failing the first concept, this is where all her effort went. The Oni either didn't think this was in contention, didn't expect Kasumi would think of it, or didn't even think it was possible. Kasumi won here.

So, in the end there was only one survivor, the survivor was an embodied oni, and the survivor was Kasumi. And it is this point that I would start on the version of Kasumi we got for the Monstrous. She now has to feed on emotions directed toward her but she refuses to do either of the following:

Feed on emotions of fear or hate because she doesn't want to risk becoming something evil.

Use supernatural means to force emotions out. Again for fear that that Concept would become integral to her nature.

So let's start with ratings.

So, she's still not a fighter. In fact, as she has to feed on emotions directed at her and has become picky in how she feeds, she is actually a bit sickly. She is still very charming, however, given she now functions entirely on concepts her charm might be more supernatural than natural. She is quite a bit less sure of herself and takes some time to gather up the courage to leave the house. However, her Conceptual nature means she has an easier time seeing the true nature of things.

As such I'm going with the following ratings: Charm +0, Cool -1, Sharp +2, Tough -1, Weird +3

For Breed she is an Oni. Her Curse is "Feed" and she has to Feed on emotions directed at her. She's managing to do so without harming people at a cost of being weaker than she was as a human. If she gets isolated from the emotions she prefers to consume, she may tempted to take one of the harmful or dangerous methods to feed.

Her natural attack are the fact that her fingers can extend into long unnaturally sharp claws. In addition, she is a creature of chaos and darkness now and can use magical force as well. So her two picks of natural attack are as follows:

Base: Claws - 2 harm, hand

Base: Magical Force - 1 harm, magic close

Now, she's going to pick two Monstrous moves. I've alluded to one of those above in the form that her charm is now supernatural, so I'm giving her "Unnatural Appeal" because she can form the Concept of exactly what she wants to convey and her nature and magic forms it into the words that best achieve that. Now for the second, I have two in mind. One of those is "Unquenchable Vitality", because at one point she is experimenting with how she can be hurt and forcefully heals herself. But rather than that, I think "Immortal" is far more fitting since she couldn't instantly heal herself and the experiment started initially when she realized her knife had passed through her finger without seriously damaging her. What she found was that she was more cut by her willingness to be hurt than by the concept of the knife in and of itself. Likewise, attacks from other people are dangerous because they have formed a concept intended to harm her even if they don't consciously know it.

For her Basic Weird Move, she has access to a variety of powers, so she is going to get "Use Magic" to represent her explorations of her nature.

Tendou Kasumi - The Monstrous

Charm +0

Cool -1

Sharp +2

Tough +0

Weird +3

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Use Magic

Curse: Feed (Emotions directed at her)

Natural Attacks: Claws (2 harm hand), Magical Force (1 harm, magical, close)

Monstrous Moves: Immortal, Unnatural Appeal

Harm: 0/7 (Unstable at 4, Dead at 8) (Incoming Harm reduced by 1)

Third Version - Late Start

Now we've come to the version of Kasumi as she is at the start of the fanfic proper at 22 years old.

Her family still think she's a human with oni horns and a few other side-effects of surviving possession. They think she's taken up with a LARPing group that replays characters from The Secret World MMO that she and her sisters used to play together. However, she's secretly actually been part of the Templars for two years now, investigating and fighting supernatural incidents alongside other hunters. She also now has access to holy water and sacred rice which she has incorporated into her cooking which fulfills her need to feed on emotions and keep her healthy. She doesn't have to subsist on the well-wishes of others around her any longer.

Okay, so, as I said before, I decided to advance her through simulated events instead of restarting her. This is because I was having trouble recreating my feel of what she was in the fanfic as probably the strongest and most dangerous of the cast, even if she was not the main character. Granted, the narrative nature of the game means that even a negative stat is more about narrative direction of things going wrong than it is about incompetence, but, hey, I'm doing a theoretical here, so I'm going to go with giving her experience.

So, first of all, let's advance her up to the point of becoming the Initiate. The implication is she mostly didn't do proper hunts but guided people to break free of toxic belief systems and the like. In fact, most of her opposition would have probably been villains and phenomena in the form of societal forces. Her first real supernatural impact would have been sealing a supernatural gate that drew the attention of the Templars. I figure she was still a Monstrous for most of the next two years so that's probably where she started with the above stats.

Over two years, I'm going to give her eight advances.

Charm +1 (+1)

Cool +1 (+0)

Tough +1 (+1)

Spooky Move: The Sight (she's demonstrated she can see ghosts)

Haven: Infirmary, Protective Spells (she's beefed up the dojo)

Advanced Use Magic and Protect Someone

+1 Any (Cool) (+1)

Change Playbook Initiate

When changing to Initiate she gains a Sect which in the fanfic is a more benevolent version of the Templars as they appear in The Secret World. So, for her Good Traditions and Bad Traditions I'm choosing the following:

Good Traditions: Rich, Ancient Lore

Bad Traditions: Paranoid and Secretive

Kasumi hasn't even told her family that the Templars are real and she's a member. She's open about it with people that the Templars have worked with, but that's about it.

She also gains four Initiate moves. The Sect Move (which describes what the Sect asks of her) and three others. She has a "Mentor" in the fanfic, Master Hakuba, a Shinto Priest at a shrine, so that's appropriate. I'm giving her "That Old Black Magic" to more directly represent how she can use her Conceptual nature to get at the truth of things. Using magic that way may allow for more bizarre angles of explaining how she gets information. And "Mystic" allows for explaining her innate supernatural nature.

As to what she loses. She's still charming in the fanfic, but doesn't have near the level of charm she did prior to the oni, and may be working more to recreate how humans natural interact and trying to create a more natural seeming feel to her speech. So I'm going to say she's lost her Unnatural Appeal. I'm also going to say that she's lost her Curse since Master Hakuba and the Templars have provided her with a regular supply of sacred rice and holy water to use when she cooks at home, so she's no longer forced to subsist of the emotions she can get from humans without harming anyone. This will also drop her Weird to +2 from +3.

Tendou Kasumi - The Monstrous The Initiate

Charm +1

Cool +1

Sharp +2

Tough +1

Weird +3

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Use Magic

Advanced Basic Moves: Use Magic, Protect Someone

Curse: Feed (Emotions directed at her)

Natural Attacks: Claws (2 harm hand), Magical Force (1 harm, magical, close)

Monstrous Moves: Immortal, Unnatural Appeal

Initiate Moves: Sect Move, Mentor (Master Hakuba), Mystic, That Old Black Magic

Borrowed Moves (Monstrous): The Sight (Spooky)

Haven: Protective Spells, Infirmary

Sect - The Templars

Good Traditions: Rich, Ancient Lore

Bad Traditions: Paranoid and Secretive

Harm: 0/7 (Unstable at 4, Dead at 8) (Incoming Harm reduced by 1)

[messrmoonyy]

- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold. 

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place. 

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid. 

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party. 

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more. 

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery. 

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “ 

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back. 

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl. 

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress. 

Always the gentleman. 

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too. 

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued. 

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “ 

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “ 

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you. 

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly. 

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did 

“ distinguished my ass “ 

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways. 

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow. 

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like. 

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates 

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over. 

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire. 

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course. 

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “ 

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear. 

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment. 

“ that’s my girl “ 

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had. 

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money. 

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham. 

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on. 

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over. 

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you. 

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats. 

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again. 

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t. 

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices. 

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night. 

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it. 

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates. 

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod 

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you. 

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs. 

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party. 

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be. 

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy. 

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people. 

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them. 

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help. 

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days. 

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering. 

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one. 

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest. 

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished. 

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds. 

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house. 

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other. 

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition. 

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about. 

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you. 

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice. 

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels. 

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming. 

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed. 

“ good girl “ 

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had. 

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them. 

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little. 

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “ 

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head. 

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused. 

“ yeah? About what? “ 

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “ 

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head 

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again. 

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair 

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “ 

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you. 

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were. 

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you. 

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth. 

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face. 

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you. 

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face 

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband. 

He’d ask you one day. 

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return. 

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.  

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again. 

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain. 

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.  

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt. 

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch 

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan. 

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “ 

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music. 

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house. 

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along. 

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters. 

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that. 

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist. 

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “ 

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “ 

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head. 

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “ 

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons. 

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “ 

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck 

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “ 

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening. 

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “ 

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins. 

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel. 

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp. 

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room. 

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him. 

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him. 

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist. 

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away. 

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head. 

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location. 

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well. 

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking. 

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy. 

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on. 

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him. 

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs. 

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine. 

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm. 

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“ 

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure. 

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him. 

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit. 

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper. 

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already. 

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings. 

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle. 

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too. 

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted. 

And wouldn’t that be a tale. 

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants. 

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt. 

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins. 

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin. 

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too. 

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too. 

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch. 

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could. 

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches. 

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard. 

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you. 

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice. 

“ y’think so? “ 

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too. 

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him. 

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath. 

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him. 

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired. 

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait. 

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did. 

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing. 

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “ 

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall. 

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush. 

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “ 

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you” 

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless. 

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect. 

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer. 

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter. 

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock. 

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up. 

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days. 

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose. 

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed. 

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself. 

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure. 

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it. 

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek 

“ mhm sure “ 

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too 

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

[nottheeconomy]

*points to Tsumugi*

She’s just like me! For real for real!!!

There’s just something about drv3’s meta exploration of what fiction truly means that just scratches my brain the right way hahahahaha

Need to draw more pregame stuff!!!

[catsushinyakajima]

baby, i'll rock your world | by AsterikaMay

What a foolish sentiment to get hung up on. Keith, brave and hot-tempered pilot of the Red Lion, Paladin of Voltron, couldn’t decide how to give a Christmas gift. Never mind that. He didn’t have the time for this. No really—it was difficult enough for him to fit three meals into a day, Keith didn’t have the extra leisure time to go window shopping between evading blasts from enemy ships. - When Keith overhears Lance talking about Christmas, he makes it his mission to get him a Christmas gift. He will soon find out that gift giving is not his forte.

Merry Christmas to @leenfiend!! I was your secret santa :D I hope you enjoy the fic I wrote for you. I do not know you very well but I've come across your content many times- including your comic "What's Your Type?" Your storytelling is fluid and enjoyable and the way you draw truly brings characters to life. I hope that you enjoy creating for however long you choose to pursue it. Your art is a gift to all :D

Thank you to @klance-daydreams for organizing secret santa! Lots of love to you for your hard work of arranging this.

A secondary fic dedication to my buddy @shatterinseconds you're a real one for yapping w me so much LOL

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE HAPPY DECEMBER EVERYONE HAPPY EVERYTHING EVERYONE!!

[subzeroparade]

Chapters: 12/12 COMPLETE (part 1 of 2) Fandom: Elden Ring (Shadow of the Erdtree spoilers) Characters: Messmer, Melina, Queen Marika Additional Tags: Messmer and Melina are twins and Marika is going at it single-mom style,  featuring assorted Shadow Realm NPC cameos (Black Knight Huw, Count Ymir, Inquisitor Jori, Rellana, Messmer’s assorted knights); the usual greek tragedy family dynamics, a frankly disproportionate amount of worldbuilding, Hornsent culture pre-crusade (is theocratic apartheid), some shipping as set dressing though not until later chapters

Summary:

Those who have never birthed something from a forge think all fires burn the same. Messmer and Melina know better.

*

Updated every week

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Mayfield pt 1

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 1.9k || cws: check tags || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

~~~

Steve can’t believe he’s willingly knocking on the Hargroves’ door. As if his own anxiety wasn’t problem enough, the shrill sounds of two people arguing over the thrashing volume of metal music sets his teeth on edge. After a few seconds of waiting, he knocks harder. The arguing stops abruptly, and he hears a woman’s voice call out to wait a moment. 

He hopes the woman opens the door, assuming it’s Max’s mom. He doesn’t know her stepdad, but if the man is anything like his son, Steve wants to avoid him at all costs. Since Billy’s Camaro is missing from the driveway, hopefully he can avoid both of them.

To his relief, a woman with bright, copper hair and freckled skin opens the door. Her yellow cleaning gloves are almost dry, but there are still wet spots scattered on her pink t-shirt and jeans, as well as a few bleach stains. Large, blue circles halo her green, bloodshot eyes. Steve pretends not to notice the dried tear tracks striping her splotchy red cheeks.

“What can I help you with?”

“Hi, Mrs. Hargrove, I’m here to talk to you about–”

“Oh no, hun,” she interrupts him, “I’m sorry but we aren’t interested.” 

Steve looks down at himself, wearing a normal blue windbreaker and jeans, and wonders what she thinks he’s selling. Before she can shut the door, Steve catches the edge to hold it open. He sees her flinch at the force of his grip, the flash of fear behind her eyes reminding him of Max’s two weeks ago. He lets go, taking a step back to give her some space.

“No, ma’am, my name’s Steve Harrington and–”

“Susan,” the man screams from inside the house, loud and angry and too similar to the sound of his own father’s voice after a few drinks. They both flinch, Mrs. Hargrove faster to recover. Even though she’s standing straight, seemingly filled with confidence, Steve can still spot anxiety in the thin line of her mouth. “Who the hell is it?”

“It’s no one, Neil, just some boy selling magazine subscriptions,” she shouts, moving back inside. 

Steve turns to leave, hopes dashed, when he feels a hand wrap around his wrist.

She leans close, lowering her voice. “You’re Steve?” He nods. Mrs. Hargrove chances a glance over her shoulder, then looks back to him again, absentmindedly chewing on her bottom lip. “Wait around the side of the house, I shouldn’t be too long, ok?”

The door shuts in his face, almost grazing his nose. Steve wonders if he shouldn’t just leave, if she’s the kind of person to set him up and send Billy or Neil out to greet him instead. Except she seemed genuine, and this might be his only chance to win her approval. 

He waits for almost twenty minutes before she finds him leaned up against the siding underneath what he assumes is Max’s window, since he’s pretty sure Billy isn’t reading last month’s issue of Tiger Beat. She pulls out a pack of smokes from the pocket of her sweater, and he frowns when she doesn’t offer him one.

“So,” she says after a long exhale, “you’re the boy Billy and Max won’t stop talking about?” She ashes her cigarette, giving him enough time to school his stunned expression. “Can’t seem to shut up about you, surprised you’ve never been around before. Smart that you haven’t, though. Don’t blame you at all.”

“What do you mean?” Steve prods.

“Well Billy’s been bitching about you all year, practically. Saying you’re the reason he ain’t captain of the basketball team. Neil didn’t care too much for the excuses, though. Hasn’t let the poor boy forget it.” She takes a step closer to him and he watches as she looks over his split lip, the stitches, and his black eye. “Figured there was more to it than that.”

“He’s got the spot now,” he lets out a self-deprecating scoff, “can’t exactly play with a concussion.”

Her l brow creases as she frowns at him, tilting her head to the side. “You know, Max never really told me what happened that night two weeks ago. She got home almost an hour before Billy did, dropped off by God knows who–”

“The Sinclair’s, ma’am,” Steve interrupts. He second guesses whether or not he should bring up Lucas at all, realizing too late the problems that could cause, when Mrs. Hargrove smiles.

“Is that the young boy she’s been hanging around lately– him and his friends?” She ashes again. There’s a light in her eyes that’s been missing since he first met her, and she shines with it. 

“Yes, ma’am. Lucas Sinclair.”

Genuine concern laces her question when she asks “is he sweet to her?”. But her small smile tells him maybe she already knows the answer, just looking for confirmation.

Images of the worst day of Steve’s life flash through his mind, and in them he can spot the soft moments. Max and Lucas comforting each other, always searching the other out across a crowded room. Lucas’ poorly concealed admiration and Max’s fondness masked under a layer of sarcasm as thin as tissue paper.

“Yeah, he’s sweet to her,” Steve replies, answering her smile with his own. “Lucas is a great kid, Mrs. Hargrove. One of the best.”

Her eyes water and she smiles again, but it’s strained this time, as she looks towards the house where screaming music filters through the walls. Steve sees the weight on her shoulders, the burden of living with someone like Neil Hargrove. He feels sympathy on the fringes of his conscience when he thinks of being married to a man like that, or being raised by one. How that kind of anger could turn a kid into someone like Billy, or scare someone enough to stay in a bad situation.

The sympathy fades into a bitter aftertaste when he thinks of Max. He knows all too well what it’s like to live in a home with a scared mother and an angry father. How it feels to have a mother who will rock you in her arms and say everything’s ok, only to stand behind her husband when the belt comes off. 

He looks at Mrs. Hargrove and notices small bruises lining the inside of her right arm. The noise permeating from the house forces its way into Steve’s pores. All he can smell are stale cigarettes and motor oil. There’s empty beer cans sticking out underneath the bushes along the house and he kicks at one, harder than he should. He can’t help picture matching bruises on Max’s small, frail arms, and suddenly it’s all too much.

“Mrs. Hargrove, I came here to tell you I want to be Max’s babysitter.”

She frowns, clearly taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Oh, well it’s usually Billy’s job to–”

“Billy is the one who did this, ma’am.” He gestures to his face and attempts to reel in his frustration. “To be frank with you, Billy almost killed me and one of the kids I was with that night. He’s dangerous, especially to her. And you know that. You have to know that. Right?” 

Mrs. Hargrove sighs, dropping her cigarette into the grass to wipe the tears at the corners of her eyes. She pulls down the sleeves of her sweater, crossing her arms over her chest as she folds in on herself. Makes herself smaller.

She hesitates before saying, “Neil will be upset if Billy isn’t the one bringing her places. Says it gives him responsibility. Accountability.”

“Good thing Billy won’t have time now that he’s captain of the basketball team. And isn’t that what his dad wants?” Steve will counter every argument she has if he has to. He refuses to let another kid grow up in an angry home, scared and alone, even though Max’s is so much louder than his own. Somehow he thinks that might be worse than his own, empty, quiet home.

“We can’t pay you.”

“I’m not asking for any money. I’ll do it for free.”

She shakes her head, frustrated and out of objections. “You think you can keep her safe from them when I can’t, is that it?” Her voice cracks, and it cuts through him.

Steve tries to relax, opening up his stance and softening his voice. Hoping that she just hears him out. “I know you don’t know me, and that you and your family are new around here, but the Harrington’s are a big name in this town. My parents are well connected to lawyers and local politicians. I’m close with Jim Hopper, the police chief–”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” She snaps. He notices she’s shaking and he raises his open hands up higher.

“No, ma’am. It’s not a threat.” Steve looks her in the eyes, tries to convey everything he’s so bad at saying and everything he’s probably missed along the way. “It’s a promise that she’ll be safe with me, no matter what, and I’d do anything to keep that promise. Please, Mrs. Hargrove.”

He thinks it’s the please that gets her. Steve can see the moment she caves, heaves another great, heavy sigh as she wipes her sleeve across her eyes a final time before tucking it back under her arms. The quiet eventually settles between them. She pulls the pack of smokes out again, holding one out to him in offering. He takes it.

“She needs rides to and from school,” she starts, staring at him as she speaks. Steve doesn’t know what she’s hoping to see, but he feels himself light up inside, excitement beaming out through his wide smile and crinkled eyes. “Neil gets home first, usually around five. I work shifts, so sometimes the latest I get home is after nine.”

“Max can stay at my house as long as she wants,” Steve says, not bothering to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. “Even if it has to be overnight, I’ve got a spare bedroom that we never use. I’m also more than happy to bring her home after nine when you work late, so you don’t have to drive across town when you’re done.”

Steve knows his implications are obvious. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep Max out of the house when her mom isn’t home. He can’t help how desperate he feels at the idea of her being alone here anymore than she already has been, and how he’s so close to making sure that it never happens again. 

He can already picture Max’s muddy shoes in the entryway on a Friday afternoon, and hear her bitching about his cereal choices on a Sunday morning. She’ll wrestle with Dustin over the remote for Saturday morning cartoons. Steve’ll even learn how to cook for three, standing in the kitchen over a hot stove while the two kids do homework at the counter, posted up on the barstools that’ve never been used before.

He’s practically choking on the idea that he’s not just giving these kids a place to hang out, but that they’ll be hanging out with him. In his own house. For the first time in almost four years, Steve’s house will have people in it. People who like him and actually want him around. Kids for him to watch out for, and take care of when they need it.

“Alright,” Mrs. Hargrove sighs, “let me go grab a pen and paper, I’ll give you my schedule for the month.”

[hanafubukki]

Happy Three Year Anniversary 🥹💚🌺

It’s my three year anniversary since I first started writing fanfics on tumblr. I think back about the first time I published fanfics on here and everyone I met along the way because of that one moment of time.

When I took that step to allow myself to express/be myself and publish something I wrote. It led to meeting so many wonderful people here and irl and I am forever grateful to myself and to all of you.

I am forever grateful for all the encouragement you all give me and I can’t say it enough. Be it comments, asks, reblogs, likes, tagging or what have you.

Everyday is fun and brings a smile to my face. I look forward to the future because of it.

So really, thank you everyone. I’m so happy to have met and interacted with you and hope to continue to do so ☺️💚🌺

[freetobeafcknriot]

started having thoughts for an AU thingie with pjo-like elements where the gladers are [supposedly] children of pagan deities who wckd observed to be a potential key to a cure due to their generation being of divine origin and now i can't stop plotting, pls send help.

[mysteryhackin]

Stanuary Week 4: Healing

Gosh it's the end of Stanuary! It went by so quickly- there are so many stories I need to catch up on, and so many awesome pieces that were made! Thank you so much @stanuary for making the worst month of the year the best!

Without any further ado, here is Stanuary Week Four: Healing (just kidding; a little more ado- this one is slightly more violent than usual because, y’know, Stan gets hurt)

Stan has been through a lot in his life, and he has the injuries to show for it. Here are some stories about five of those injuries- and one about healing.

Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey; 1960-something

Ford whooped from the sand below. “That’s the highest you’ve climbed yet, Stanley!” he shouted excitedly. “I think you’re going to make it!”  Stan grinned his gap-tooth grin despite the struggle he was facing to not slide down the mast of the old boat they were restoring.  The brothers had been trying to get up to the crow’s nest for a month now, and after splinters and sunburn and sweat, it looked like Stan was finally going to reach it. 

The encouraging cheers from his twin gave him the strength to keep shimmying up the mast, even though his arms were starting to feel like jello and the sun seemed to be the hottest it had ever been.  But Ford thought he could do it, and he was never wrong.

His hands touched the top of the crow’s nest as Ford went wild below him, and with one last heave he hauled himself over the railing to stand and look at the view-

When the rotten wood below his feet gave way, sending him plummeting to the deck of the boat.

Pain shot through his right arm as he landed on his side, and he automatically clutched his right elbow to get it to stop. The sun was soon blocked out by his brother’s face hovering over him, and Stan realized Ford was saying his name over and over again.

“Cut it out, Sixer, I’m fine,” Stan said, but the tears coming out of his eyes made his voice crack, and he shut his mouth to keep from sobbing.

“Let me look at your arm,” Ford said, and even though he didn’t want to, Stan let go of his elbow so his brother could inspect it.

He yelped at the first touch of Ford’s hand, and turned away so his brother wouldn’t see him cry.  “I think you broke your elbow,” Ford said, his voice drenched with worry.  “You’ll have to wear a cast for the rest of the summer.” 

Somehow the prospect of a summer immobilized by a cast seemed worse than the pain.  “No...” he managed to squeak out, but he could no longer stop the sobs.  “The Stan O’War can’t wait an entire summer!”

Ford helped his brother up, and wrapped his arms around Stan as he sobbed into Ford’s jacket.

“It will be fine Stanley.  We have a long time to finish restoring the boat.” Ford said, and Stan was instantly comforted.

~*~*~*~*

Stan took the cast off a couple of weeks early because he was going to go crazy if he had to live one more day with that stupid thing preventing him from doing what he wanted to.  Although Ford protested, his arm seemed to work just fine.  “Knew it,” he muttered to Ford.  “Doctors are all just a buncha quacks.”

But his right elbow would sometimes have a funny click when he moved it that never went away.

Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey; early 1970-something

Stan staggered into the bathroom he and Ford shared in their family apartment over the pawn shop, grateful for what seemed like the millionth time for the back entrance that allowed him to sneak in without having to walk past his dad in the shop. 

He gripped the sink with his bruised and bloodied knuckles, trying to fight the dizziness and nausea that was threatening to either make him lose his lunch or black out.  He closed his eyes and focused on the cool porcelain against his skin, and after a few seconds he hazarded moving one of his hands momentarily to turn on the cold water spigot.  He nearly lost his balance, but the cold water sounded fresh and inviting, and after a small deliberation, he decided to slowly kneel down and rest his head against the sink so he could put his hands under the water.  He sighed with relief as he felt less in danger of falling over, and let the cold water run over his stinging knuckles. 

When he felt a little better after about half a minute, he moved his hot wrists under the cold, grateful his nausea was starting to dissipate.  Of course, he still hadn’t opened his eyes again yet, and knew the moment he did the room would start spinning again...

“Stanley!” Ford shouted in shock.

“Keep... keep it down, will ya?”  Stan mumbled.  “I don’ want Ma to see.”

“Holy Moly, what happened to you?” Ford asked, still just as shocked, but at least his voice was in a quieter tone this time. 

“You shoulda seen the other guy,” Stan muttered, hazarding a grin to where he thought Ford was.  He still wasn’t ready to open his eyes.

He heard Ford sigh, a little too exasperatedly.  “Stanley,” he started.  “You need to stop getting-”

“Couldja get me a cloth, Sixer?”  Stan interrupted grumpily.  “The blood from my nose is startin’ to itch.”

“I’ll be right back,” Ford said, resigned.  A few seconds later, the water over Stan’s hands was interrupted as Ford put a cloth under the stream to get it wet.  “Can you sit down and lean against the wall?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Stan answered.  “Leaning against a wall sounds good,” he said, and slowly shifted backwards so he was no longer kneeling but putting all his weight against the nice, solid, wall, allowing his muscles to relax.

“Here,” Ford said, pressing the now wet cloth into Stan’s hand.  Stan took it, but instead of using the cloth to start to clean up his face, he gingerly moved to put the cold rag at the nape of his neck, feeling himself relax a little more as the nausea all but disappeared.

“I’ll go get another rag,” Ford said, but this time sounded a little softer.  Stan heard him leave, come back, put the rag under the water, and shut the water off.  Then a cloth was once more pressed into Stan’s hands, and as Stan carefully brought it up to where he felt the blood begin to dry below his nose, he heard Ford sit down on the edge of the tub.  “What was this one about?” he asked, not in a condemning manner, but sincerely wanting to know.

Stan paused, then said, “I found the guy who started all those rumors about you.”

“Oh.” Ford said, and even in that one syllable Stan heard the devasting hurt that Ford had felt this whole past week.  He regretted bringing it up, but before he could say anything to change the subject, Ford said, “I thought you said I should just ignore them.”

Stan risked a smile, then winced.  “I said you should ignore them, Sixer.  I didn’t say I should.”

Ford snorted, then Stan heard him swallow.  “Stanley, I have to tell you, that left eye doesn’t look good,” Stan heard him stand up from the edge of the tub.  “Hang on.”

He once more left, and when he returned, Stan suddenly felt a shock of cold cover his left eye and yelped, causing everything to flare up in pain.  The cold thing dropped to his lap, and he heard Ford stumble backward.

“I’m sorry!” Ford said, mortified, then the cold thing was picked up off of Stan.  “It’s just frozen peas.”

“A little warning would be nice next time.” Stan grumbled, and he held out his hand for the peas, putting them over his left eye.

“Sorry,” Ford said again.  Then after a pause, said,  “Who was it?”

“Paul Cole,” Stan said, and removed the peas to finally open his eyes to give a wicked smile to his brother.  The vision in his left eye was a lot blurrier than he remembered, but he ignored it.  “He won’t be starting rumors about you again.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Ford asked in horrified fascination. 

“No you knucklehead,” Stan said, once more closing his eyes and applying the peas.  “But he knows what happens if he messes with you again.”

“You shouldn’t have to fight my battles, Stan.” Ford said.

Stan shrugged, causing him to wince.  “’Course I do.” he said.  “You mess with one of us, you mess with both of us.” He shifted against the wall, trying to get more comfortable.  “’Sides, you’d do the same for me.”

“You know I would.” Ford promised earnestly with steel in his voice, and Stan smiled.

The left eye would always take slightly longer to focus every time he woke up.

Cartagena, Colombia, mid 1970-something

Stan only got a few steps down the road after his release from that jail in Colombia when a car screeched to a stop in front of him, and four goons rushed out, instantly restraining each of his arms and putting a bag over his head.  After about an hour’s drive, Stan was pulled out of the car, marched somewhere inside, and shoved onto a hard chair before the hood was taken off of him.  “Thanks,” he said in English, the only petty thing he could think of doing.  The goons grunted and left, locking the door behind them.

Stan took in his surroundings and recognized them immediately.  The room had dark wood paneling, dark green carpet, and several rare paintings and rare antiquities on pedestals, some of which Stan recognized as items he himself had helped steal.  His chair was in front of a dark mahogany desk with a leather upholstered chair behind it, which was- for now- empty. Yes, Stan was in the office of Carlos Aguilar, one of the most powerful crime lords in the country- the man Stan had been working for during the heist that had put him in jail. 

He fought the panic rising in his throat by reminding himself there was no reason for Aguilar to think poorly of him- he never did anything wrong on his heists before, it wasn’t his fault the crew was caught during the last one, and he didn’t say a peep during his time in jail, not during the countless hours of interrogation by the authorities and not to any other men he was imprisoned with (a relatively easy feat after he convinced them all he didn’t speak Spanish).  He should be fine.  Aguilar probably just wanted to offer him another job, right?

A door to the side of the desk opened, and Aguilar walked into the room, followed by one of the bodyguards Stan only knew as “Lobo”.  Aguilar had a shark smile on his face, and Stan knew this was not a good sign.  Well, time to diffuse the situation with the ol’ Pines Charm.

“Hey, Mr. Aguilar, how’s it going?” he asked cheerfully in Spanish, standing up in respect.  “Long time no see, am I right?  You look great!  Did you start a new workout routine?”

“Shut up, Pino,” Aguilar said as sat down.

“No problem,” Stan gulped, still standing.

Aguilar looked up at Lobo, who, quick as a snake, suddenly hit Stan’s left kneecap with a baseball bat, causing Stan to yelp and collapse to the ground.  Despite the pain he somehow managed to have the sense to roll away, but another strike of the bat didn’t come.  He stayed on the ground, taking deep, quick breaths, determined not to show weakness in front of these very dangerous men.

“That is for your failure in the last heist, Pino,” Aguilar said from his desk.  Stan couldn’t see him, but he sounded bored.  “And I am aware the contributing elements of it going wrong were not your doing, but you still failed.” Stan heard him stand up and was soon looking up at the crime lord.  “Rest assured those at fault are no longer with us.  And it is only because of your loyalty during your incarceration that you are not joining them.”  He nodded at Stan, then walked back to his desk.  “Lobo,” he said, and suddenly Stan felt himself being roughly hauled up to his feet and dragged out of the room, gritting his teeth and biting his tongue to prevent another yell.

After his knee started working again, Stan went back to the Aguilar compound one last time to plant evidence of the man’s crimes, and stole a suitcase full of cash on his way out to pay for the plane back to the US.   He was done with Colombia, and the knee that twinged every time a storm was coming always reminded him to never go back.

Gravity Falls, Oregon, 1981

The brand from the burn that Stan got during his fight with Ford stung for weeks, just like Stan’s shock about what just happened.  It had been over 10 years since he saw his brother, only for their reunion to end in Ford disappearing through a transdimensional gateway that promptly stopped working, and all Stan could think about was getting him back.  Finally, after waking up in the cold basement room, disoriented from working for- he didn’t even know how many hours- straight, he realized he had better start handling getting Ford back in a little smarter way.

Stan never understood how he somehow managed to get back to the semblance of living a life after he lost his brother.  But day by day, even though the dark room in the basement always occupied a place in his mind, he found himself going outside, putting more creativity and fun into the newly christened Mystery Shack, and actually talking to people even when they weren’t paying him to.  He had started a poker group with Steve the town mechanic, checked out the Lodge of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel, and began Phase One of flirting with one of the waitresses down at the Triple Digit Truck Stop just at the edge of town by asking to borrow money.  He almost felt like a normal person...

Until one day he caught his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom to see the brand on his back was no longer bright red, but beginning to fade.  The surprise made him also realize he hadn’t been downstairs to work on the portal in almost two weeks.

He barely had the foresight to put on clothes before he rushed out of the house down to the Skull Fracture bar in town.  He burst through the door, not even giving his eyes time to adjust before he breathlessly asked, “Which one of you knuckleheads does tattoos?”

The men in the bar looked at each other, then looked back at Stan.  One very large, very scary bald man in a leather vest and combat boots stood up and loomed over Stan. “You got money, knucklehead?”

Stan gulped.  “I’ll do ya one better.  You get one favor from me, no questions asked.”

The whole bar started laughing, but Stan didn’t budge, and the laughter slowly died down.  The bald man looked at Stan and raised an eyebrow.  “You got a car?”

~*~*~*~*

Stan nearly burst out laughing when the man mentioned pug smuggling, but one look at the bald man’s face told him it wasn’t a joke, and he managed to choke down and turn the laughter into a cough before he could offend the man.  He agreed to assist in the next shipment in a couple of days in exchange for a tattoo following the lines of the brand on his back.

“Buddy, you know if I do this, the scar ain’t gonna go away,” the tattoo artist said.  “It’s not gonna let the skin heal all the way-”

“That’s the point of a tattoo, isn’t it?” Stan asked tensely.  “So it lasts forever?”

“Guess so,” the tattoo artist said, and began to put on his gloves.  “Just so you know, it’s going to hurt.  A lot.”

“What doesn’t?” Stan asked, flashing the man a grin.  He deserved it for forgetting to work on the portal.  But with the brand permanently inked into his skin, he wouldn’t ever forget again. 

Gravity Falls, Oregon, 2012

Stan heard the cheers of Soos, Dipper, and Mabel as he flew through the air on the back of the pterodactyl. Pride bubbled up inside of him with the realization that he had made the right decision, as stupid as it was to put his life in danger to rescue a pig.

The pterodactyl began to gain altitude, which was the exact opposite direction Stan wanted to go.  He was mostly over his fear of heights thanks to Mabel and her crazy therapy a few weeks ago, but he needed to get back to the kids and get out of there.

The adrenaline from the speed and flight was making him giddy, and the admiration of his great niece and nephew made him want to do something really cool, like from the movies.  He clasped his hands together and held them above his head as if he were holding a sword, and thought of a really great line from one of his favorite gladiator movies to shout, and thought he had better edit the language for the kids, just in case...

The combination of less than 100% focus, an unexpected movement of the pig strapped to the front of his chest, and the bumpy turbulence of riding on a pterodactyl meant that the when Stan brought his fists down on the pterodactyl’s head and shouted “From heck’s heart I stab at thee!”, the angle of the blow was slightly off-

breaking Stan’s right pinky finger.

He didn’t notice until after he and the kids were safe at home and all of the adrenaline had worn off that his finger was hurting.  But truth be told, every inch of him hurt after the fight with the dinosaur, so he didn’t bother to splint it.  By the time it stopped hurting, it had healed crooked, and the pinky finger couldn’t straighten out with the others.

But every time he saw it he remembered the look on Mabel’s face when he landed from off the pterodactyl, holding her pet pig safely against his chest, and knew that a crooked finger was absolutely worth it.   

Somewhere in the Arctic Circle, sometime in the 2010s.

Stan roared with laughter, the sound matched by Ford as Dipper finished telling a crazy story over video call of a revenge prank that he and Mabel had pulled on the school bully.

“Kid!  I’m so proud of you!” Stan chuckled to his great nephew. 

“We’re so proud of you,” his brother corrected with a smile.  “That was indeed a brilliant way to prevent future interference from that degenerate.”

“See Dip, I told you we could tell them,” Mabel cut in.  “They’re our Funkles!”

“That’s right!” Stan laughed again.  Then he stopped abruptly and stared right at the camera, pointing a finger at them.  “But don’t get caught.”

Mabel scoffed.  “As if.”

“Good girl,” Stan grinned. 

“Stanley, I think we’ll soon have some competition for best Pines twins ever,” Ford said with a small smile on his face.

“Not a chance, Sixer,” Stan answered casually.

“Is that a challenge?” Dipper asked on the other end of the line.  “We’re going to see you guys in a few months; I’d get ready!”

Stan and Ford laughed together.  “Fat chance, kid!” Stan said.  “But still, we can’t wait to see you.”

“Be sure you’re still making time to study in between your pranks,” Ford cut in, and Stan rolled his eyes for comedic effect.

“No worries Grunkle Ford!” Mabel answered.  “We love you!”

“Love you!” Dipper echoed.

“Love you too,” Stan and Ford said at the same time, and they turned off the video call.

Stan took a deep breath of the cold salt air on the deck of The Stan O’War II, completely unable to keep the giant grin off of his face.

“They are really great kids, aren’t they?” Ford commented with his own smile. 

“Yeah,” Stan said.  “Just like us.”

Ford put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “Just like us.” he answered.  Then he started walking to the other side of the deck.  “Set up the deck chairs for some fishing- there’s supposed to be some excellent cod around here.”

“Bet you five bucks I make the first catch of the day,” Stan said with a wicked smile, and was met with the reflection in Ford’s face.

“Make it ten,” his brother said happily, and he went to go grab the fishing poles.

Stan took another deep breath and felt contentment, love, trust, worth, and safety.  And the hole that had been in his life for 40 years was now filled.

And his heart was completely healed.

[zukkaoru]

hurt me back instead

Michizou opens his eyes again, slower this time. He can make out: Bright lights, white walls, and the stark contrast of a figure dressed in black. It’s all blurry; nothing more than the vaguest shapes and colors. But he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the person in this room with him is Gin. As his mind sorts itself out, he thinks he remembers calling them. Why the fuck did he do that?

michizou knows he isn't worthy of gin's kindness, but he's selfish enough to accept it anyway

🩸 2.7k words || tachigin 🩸 written for aurorahrt on twt as part of the bsd gotcha event

[spiderin-space]

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO UPDATE YESTERDAY I was really distracted 😭😭

BUT I remembered today!! And I even have sketches to make up for it!!

[multifandom-nerds-blog]

On a whim of inspiriation I wrote a dragon prince post season 6 fanfiction with established Sorvus and emotional hurt/comfort. (Corvus arriving in Katolis and running to Soren right away)

This was literally written out of nowhere but enjoy~

When Corvus and Ezran finally arrived at Katolis castle town they could only look up at ruins, smoke still rising from some of the towers in to the darkening sky of late afternoon. When his king started crying in his arms Corvus could only think of how Ezran was just a child after all. How this wasn't fair.

Live wasn't really fair though, was it?

A soldier ran up to them from the woods opposite of where he and Ezran had come from, when Corvus was already preparing himself to go through the rubble. Looking for... anything he supposed, blonde hair and blue eyes probably. The soldier brought them to a clearing in the woods right away. The first thing they could see there was barius handing out food with the help of a female soldier. The next second Opeli was running up to them.

Six people died, Opeli told them. Five who got hit by or trapped under the rubbel and couldn't be found in time.

The sixth was Viren. Saving them from the dragon fire with his magic apparently.

It took Corvus a while to find Soren in the camp that Opeli managed to organize. After making sure Ezran has calmed down more or less, leaving the young king with Opeli and Barius to get an overview of the situation. She could only tell him that he was probably running around somewhere trying to "stay busy". And the glance she gave him was enough to tell Corvus that Soren was probably doing that without a proper break now for a while.

Saying "camp" was also very optimistic if he was being honest. Even if Opeli had obviously done the best they could with the situation and all that people. The tents where mostly bigger blankets and tarps secured between trees and carts. The few proper tents they organized in the short time were all used for the sick, injured and infants.

To his relieve he couldn't find Soren there. Though when he did find him, at the camps western border helping other soldiers with hitting stacks into the ground and tying rope between them, Corvus decided that maybe Soren should have been in one of the tents. Or at least he should clearly be resting somewhere, and if it was laying on the darn grass with Hat on his head. Even from afar he noticed the tiredness combined with a tension in Sorens body. The kind of tension he would get after pushing himself for to long. When something was going on inside of him that he refused to talk about.

To even notice this tension was a skill that Corvus had perfected over the last two years. First as his enemie-turned-colleague, then as his friend and than as his partner. Though actually getting him to open up when he was like this, to figure out what was bothering him, was a skill Corvus still hadn't really worked out. So most of the time he just focused on distracting Soren to make him feel better.

Luckily Corvus didn't had to do a guessing game on what exactly Sorens issue was or how he could best help him relax. Opelli told them that it was Soren who had run to the dungeon where Viren had been imprisoned. But only the rats from the dungeon could possibly tell them what happened between them this time.

Viren, he didn't really like calling him 'Sorens father' no matter the situation, was the cause for this kind of tension in Soren most of the time in the end. In some way, shape or form Viren was always at the back of Sorens mind.

"Soren!", Corvus called while walking up to him. It was hard not to run, but making a scene wasn't exactly in his interest here. Their relationship was still mostly private after all.

Soren turned around, dropping the hammer in his hand, and Corvus almost stopped in his track. The tiredness was even more apparent on his face. His usual smile was nowhere to be seen and his eyes had heavy bags under them. Most worrying to Corvus however was the stained bandage on his forehead.

"Corvus?", Soren said. Even his voice seemed of, to Corvus trained ears at least. But a spark returned in his blue eyes as he was looking to Corvus. "You're here! Where is Ezran? We heard rumors about an attack at the wedding, but well... Y'know we kinda... had to focus on setting up the camp here and-"

Soren went quite when Corvus hugged him, clinging his arms around him and listening to Sorens heartbeat under his armor. Making a scene or not be damned this time, there were only a handful of soldiers that could see them here anyway.

The beating of Sorens heart was probably the most beautiful sound to Corvus ears at this point.

However the tension did not wash out of Sorens body as he had hoped. Instead his breathing turned sharp, rigged, enough for Corvus to notice but everyone else could probably only see how Soren returned his hug. One of his arms around his back, the other hand gripping his shoulder hard enough for it to slightly hurt.

Corvus ignored it. The blonde man needed the comfort, now more than ever. He could handle a little shoulder pain.

"We just arrived. I will catch you up on our side later.", Corvus said after a while, his head in Sorens neck. "But you really look like you need a good nap, and maybe someone to check that wound on your head."

Soren loosened the grip on his shoulder, and only then did Corvus loosen his own grip around him. Though Sorens left hand at his back still grabbed his shirt slightly, and Corvus decided to keep a hand on Sorens forearm. Meanwhile the blue head of Hat popped out of Sorens armor with a squirm. Seemingly not liking to be squished between two grown men in armor.

The blonde knight used his other hand to touch the stained bandage. To Corvus relieve his fingers came back down dry, so the blood wasn't fresh at least.

"What happened?", Corvus asked.

"Stone flew right to my head.", Soren answered. Not what he had asked, but they both knew that. Maybe he would have a bit more luck when they were actually alone, and they both had sleept for a bit. "Is Ezran okay at least?"

"He didn't get hurt." Corvus however could still feel the bruises from Karims people throwing him on the ground and holding him down. Though this would probably just rile up Soren even more in the moment. "As I said, I will tell you everything later. King Ezran wants to talk to you later too."

He raised his own free hand to trace his fingers around the bandage on Sorens forehead. Light, making sure he didn't put any pressure on the wound to accidentally hurt him.

Just distracting or comforting Soren wouldn't be enough this time. They would actually have to talk about the isdue this time. About Viren. What happened. What he did to the world, and most importantly what he did to Soren. Possibly about Claudia. The one topic didn't really came without the other one.

Ignoring the fact that they were still in the open, soldiers working around them and some of them probably looking at them for gossip, Corvus pulled his hands from Sorens face and grabbed his free hand instead to put a kiss on his fingers.

Sorens hands were ever so cold, to a worrying degree if you were to ask anyone else probably, but well, normal for Soren. Whatever the reason was for his freezing skin (Soren gave dubious answers and became restless whenever Corvus had tried to ask) at this point it was something familiar to Corvus.

"Come on, I'm sure they can finish the stakes on their own.", Corvus said. "We both need a few hours of sleep before we have to meet up with the council."

Soren let out a sigh, but still removed the hand still clinging to Corvus back, sliding it in his hand for just a moment before dropping both his hands at his side.

"Ok.", Soren whispered and walked ahead to to where the improvised campsite. Corvus walked along close enough so that their hands could touch, if Soren wanted to.

Luckily it wasn't hard to find a more private spot for two memebers of the crown guard. Close to the trees, under a lower hanging tarp and a cart blocking sight from where most people were trying to eat or already sleeping.

Getting Soren to lie down wasn't hard at this point. He quietly followed him to the ground, and even let Corvus remove the plates on his arms and shoulders without much protest.

Though his mind was clearly still racing. They were facing each other on the thin blanket they were laying on, close again but not touching. It was one of these moments where Corvus couldn't tell if Soren needed to be held or if he should avoid it instead, because it would make him flinch or even run off.

Luckily, he didn't had to guess.

"Can you...hold me?"

He hated how insecure Soren became sometimes about this. Wanting comfort from someone. Needing it. How his voice turned so quite. How all of his optimistic energy and joy seemed to just completely dissappear.

He really hated Viren for this. Wanted to make him pay. Though it clearly wasn't possible now anymore, hopefully for real this time. But it wasn't his place to do so anyways.

He could only help Soren cope with whatever emotions were racing through his mind. And he was glad to do so.

Corvus pulled Soren close, one hand at his back, the other one in his blonde hair. Once again Soren returned the embrace, but this time while hiding his face in Corvus chest.

"You don't have to ask."

There were tears wetting his scarf.

He didn't mention it.

[tabbytabbytabby]

A Little Appreciation

Word Count: 1,081 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: 9-1-1

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Tags: Established Relationship, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Season/Series 08, Episode: s08e03 Final Approach (9-1-1 TV), Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Sweet Tommy Kinard, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Domestic, Fluff, Flirting

Summary: It's been nice having someone to come home to after a long shift. Someone that understands the job and all the risks that come with it. Someone he can just exist with and feel at ease with. He likes it. A lot.

Read on AO3

[scarysanctuary]

surprised just how big ghoulcy has been from just the first season, because they didnt get to interact enough for me, but season 2 has the opportunity to be very shippy!