#or like even for like a church summer camp thing

[variationsonacloud]

price & mckinley were definitely in one of those mormon promotional videos AT LEAST once

[vampmilf]

walked into a church the other day and remembered a few church songs that i used to love singing and now my head is stuck on that specific cozy feeling again *sigh* gotta cope with writing some more of that lesbokris au i guess

[itsalwaysdark]

i will say it was a bit funny bc the text from my mom got cropped for the notif so the notif just said 'signed everybody up for church' and i was like ...??? interesting decision for our family. but then i clicked and went YIPPEEEEE

[pearlcigs]

⋆ maybe some faith would do me good

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ ellie's forced to go to some church camp thing for the summer. maybe she'll actually enjoy it if she keeps seeing you around.

warnings ⋆ 2.78k ⋆ smut, non apocalyptic au, guys dont cancel me😅, mention of suicide (jokingly) , implied reader virginity loss, religious themes, alludes to what david did to ellie, friends to enemies to lovers kinda, dacryphilia, public sex, sex in church, public humiliation, cunnilingus and fingering (r!receiving), pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl)

ellie tried to protest when joel proposed the idea of ellie spending her summer days at some camp for religious kids that one of the elders in jackson had volunteered to host, she really did. she didn't know what joel was trying to accomplish. maybe he thought in some twisted way this would help her get over that encounter. it didn't matter what the point was, it mattered that she was being woken up at 8 in the morning on the first day of summer to go to some stupid camp. joel told her she was being dramatic, it was only a 2 and half week program and then the rest of her summer was free.

she was still grumpy nevertheless, slumping her way to this church retreat. she'd only packed enough for a week, hoping that if she ran out of clothes they'd be forced to send her home. A friendly old woman greeted her, smiling and cheerful unlike ellie. The woman led ellie to a room, explaining that this was her room during the program. She fought every urge to roll her eyes, knowing the woman was just being nice but, god, who really had that much energy this early in the morning? The woman instructed her to leave her bag on one of the beds— great she had a roommate— and then make her way to the prayer room.

ellie groaned at the thought. prayer room? she might as well shoot herself now. she complied nevertheless. her feet dragging along the wooden floor, the planks creaking with every step she took. the halls were white, various pictures of religious symbolism decorating the otherwise plain walls. she couldn't deny that the hallway made her feel uneasy. she could only imagine what it looked like at night. ellie sighs as she comes across a door, half open and she can hear chatter from behind it. she worked up the courage to walk through the door, preparing herself for whatever bullshit she'll endure while she's here.

she takes a look around the room, eyes all the girls who seemed to all know each other. each girl with their own smile on their face. ellie rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her and before she could even process what was happening, she was approached by a girl. you. "i didn't think you'd be here." you smile at her, oblivious to the one sided feud you had with ellie. you were the pastor's daughter, probably the one responsible for this little get together. god, ellie hated you. the way you dressed, the way you talked, the stupid smile on your face, the even stupider bow in your hair and that little sundress that showed so much for someone like you.

truthfully, ellie didn't have a good reason to hate you. especially since you two grew up together, being raised to be built in friends. but hating you just to hate you seemed justified enough for her. "didn't have much of a choice." she barely keeps eye contact, keeping her response cold and dry. you frown at that. "oh. okay..." you look down to your shoes, it was obvious you picked up on the dismay in her tone. her mind wonders, just for a second, if she took it too far. but she shakes the thought. "yeah." she clears her throat, looking around the room once again. "well... um..." it was ridiculous how quickly your confidence was knocked down. all because of ellie.

ellie chuckles, finding some sick amusement in your reaction. you were going to speak again, probably to ask something like 'are you mad at me?' but you were dragged away by your friends. ellie sighed, watching you walk away. her eyes trailing from the back of your head all the way down to your— woah. why the hell did she look there?! god, but the damage was done. ellie wanted to look again, certain parts of her practically begging for just another glance. she refuses though, instead focusing on one of the stained glass windows. nothing fancy, just a red cross with a blue background. the funding for this particular chapel wasn't exactly the highest.

ellie could feel herself warm up, her mind jolting such crude thoughts about you. she groaned, running a hand through her hair. you had her mind so confused. she hated your guts. she really did. but all she could think about when she saw you was how much she wanted to bend you over and just yell at you. for what? she didn't know. for being too religious? too kind? too innocent? her mind wanders again, to a new thought she'd never had before. she wanted to ruin you, give it to you until you couldn't possibly take it any more. watching all the innocence leave your eyes while she filled you with sin. ellie snaps out of her thoughts, noticing that the woman from earlier had begun to speak about the quote unquote 'fun activities planned'.

through out the day, she tried to avoid you. even when you tried your very hardest to make amends for something you had no clue about. she participated in the church themed activities with little enthusiasm, being told more than once to at least act like she was having fun. the sun had begun to set, the chaperones calling out that dinner was ready. but ellie wasn't hungry. she managed to slip away from everyone else. wondering the semi creepy halls, just thinking to herself. she counted how many times the floor squeaked and creaked. she was content with just doing that until she counted a creak that she didn't make.

she turned around, her heart rate a little elevated only to find out it was just you. she sighed and rolled her eyes, returning to her initial path. "hey... they said dinner was ready." you were wary, nervous and shy even, and she couldn't blame you. "i know." her tone was less harsh this time. perhaps she was feeling guilty for her outburst earlier. "you're... um, you're going the wrong way." you were just trying to be helpful, but with every word you spoke, the more ellie got angry at you. "i know." she repeated. she heart your soft footsteps running up behind her to catch up. "so, why are you going this way?" your voice was so sweet, just like the honey ellie imagined licking off your body at least 30 times today.

she didn't answer, continuing to walk in the opposite direction of where she needed to be. and you just followed like a lost little puppy. "hey? i said—" she cuts you off. "i heard you." her cold tone was back. "oh." just like earlier, your gaze redirected to your shoes. "don't do that." she sighed, looking over at you. "huh? do what...?" you look up at her, frown evident on your face. "look like i just crushed your heart." ellie looked away from you again, examining the religious paraphilia on the walls. you didn't reply, looking away again but ellie didn't miss the hint of blush covering your face before you did. "oh? did i just crush your heart?" she jokes, weirdly seeming to warm up to you. once again, she's met to no reply. she rolls her eyes, turning the corner in the hall. she was met with a door and she wasn't sure if she should enter.

"it's the chapel." you explain, sensing her confusion and hesitation. ellie looks at you, a little annoyance on her face that you knew something she didn't. she pulls the handle on the door, gesturing for you to enter first. "ladies first." she remarks, not much amusement in her tone. you walk in and she follows after you. it was empty and though it shouldn't be creepy, ellie felt unnerved. "wait! don't let it close—" you try to warn, but the door had already been shut. you sigh, biting your lip in anxiousness. "what?" she utters, wondering why her closing the door was a bad thing. "it locks from the outside." you explain and ellie's face drops. "that's fucking great." ellie groans, running her hands over her face, walking down the isle and up the two steps to the alter. you follow.

"i tried to tell you..." you mutter. ellie wants to yell at you. say something along the lines of 'you should have tried harder' or whatever but before you can get the words out your head is in your hands and you're crying. ellie's shocked, not knowing what to do or say. she sighs. "don't cry, c'mon." she comforts, moving your hands away from your face and wiping your tears. it made you reminiscent to when you and ellie used to be friends. "i'm sorry." you sniffle as she dries your tears. "why're you crying, hm?" she tries to be gentle but just at the sight of your tears makes her want to fuck you over the alter. "'cause you're being mean and i got us locked in here." you vent your frustrations, revealing just what a hard day you had because of ellie.

she feels terrible now, hating that she made you feel so inadequate. god, why does she even care how you feel? ellie looks at you, watching as you wipe the tears that she missed. "i'm sorry for being so mean." she apologizes, deciding to cut the act. she didn't hate you. she could never hate you. "i just can't get you out of my mind." she admits. you look at her blankly for a moment, clearly not understanding. but ellie can see the exact moment when your eyes lighten up, realizing what she meant. "you mean it?" you ask, full of hope. "god." ellie rolls her eyes and your naivety. she leans closer to you, pressing her lips against yours, her hands cupping your face.

you pull back and ellie is now the one who frowns. did she misinterpret all your signs? "i'm not good at that." you admit while avoiding eye contact. ellie chuckles, pulling you closer by your waist. "i don't care." she mutters, kissing down your neck. you gasp, her warm tongue running over your cool skin. ellie's hands venture down, grabbing your ass over your dress. the ass that started this whole mess. "ellie!" you were startled. it felt like all the statues were suddenly watching you, judging you. but it just felt too good to care. but it weighed in the back of your mind as ellie kissed your jaw.

"i'm gonna fuck you so good." she mumbles, becoming drunk with lust. "i've never..." you trail off, your voice transitioning into a gasp when her hands begin to roam over your body. "i know. so pure, huh?" she teases with an eye roll, mocking how the church would call you pure. you don't reply. you couldn't. you words stuck in your throat, your eyes focused on her hands. watching them caress your waist slowly sliding up your body to cup your breasts. "el..." your whisper, you voice filled with breath. "i'm right here." she slides her right hand back down your body, reaching your thighs. she trails her fingers over the flesh before pressing her finger to your clothed cunt. you gasp, clutching onto her tighter.

"i know, baby. feels so good, doesn't it?" she mumbles in your ear, her fingers circling your clit so gently over your panties, which were becoming soaked. "el, el, ellie." you breathed out heavily, trying your best to keep as most decency as you could. after all, this was a chapel. "saying my name just like a prayer." ellie acknowledges, her fingers slowly working towards slipping into your underwear. your eyes rolled back when her cold fingers finally touch the place you needed her most. your legs were weak, wanting to give out on you. ellie notices, biting back a laugh at how blissed you already looked. she leaned you against the alter, her fingers working faster.

"so pretty." ellie mutter against your clammy skin. "so good. you're being such a good girl." her words made you feel so dirty but so... aroused at the same time. "keep... keep saying that." you barely managed to get out, you voice coming out in broken whimpers. "yeah? you like being my good girl?" she gently slides a finger into your dripping cunt. ellie can help but moan herself. "ellie." you whisper, feeling more pleasure than you've ever felt before. "i know. i know." she comforts, knowing exactly how you were feeling as she adds another finger. ellie was so aroused, drunk on the power of ruining you, being the one to help you commit the worst sin you've ever done.

your head lolled back, feeling something you've never felt before. "el." you choke out. "i know. you're almost there." ellie sinks to her knees, kneeling in front of you. "should i confess my sins to you." she whispers, kissing your thighs. you can't respond, finding the scene before you so arousing. ellie lifts up your dress to reveal your lacy underwear. "of course." she mutters under her breath. "hold this for me pretty girl." she looks up at you, and you shakily take hold of the dress that she flipped up. she gently slides your panties down your thighs, never breaking eye contact with you. she helps you step out of them, shoving them in her pocket so she didn't have to put them on the dirty ground.

her eyes flicker down to your pussy, biting her lip. "ellie." you can't even focus anymore, the loss of her fingers deep in your cunt making you want to cry. "i'm gonna make you feel so good. just be patient." she kisses your inner thighs, teasing you. you can't say anything, complain about how much you need her. but luckily, she doesn't torture too much, cause in a matter of seconds she's sucking on your clit, with her fingers returning to their job of fucking you. the sweat on your body makes you hot to touch, needing your release so badly. you push your hips forward instinctively, greedily wanting everything ellie could give you. before you could even process how good ellie was making feel, your orgasm approached.

ellie couldn't help but moan as your own moans got louder and your free hand tangled itself in her hair. "so close, baby." she mumbles into your pussy, feeling just as pleasured as you do. "el. oh my gosh, el! please!" you mutter, your words conjumbled and not making much sense. "good job, baby." she mumbles as she finally pushes you over the edge. your moans are loud and broken, filling the empty chapel with such sin. the cross necklace around your neck sticking to your skin. "ellie rubs your thighs, pressing small kisses on your pussy. "can't get enough of this pussy." she moaned, so drunk on you, on lust, on life. "ellie—" you whine and she moves away but not before she runs her tongue through your folds one last time.

"so good." she praises and lets your dress fall back into place. ellie kisses you, the taste of your arousal still in her lips. she pulls away, both of you out of breath. the sound of doors opening cause you both to pull apart. your hands going to fix your hair. "ms. heather wanted to know where you two went. you okay...?" a girl ellie recognized as one of your friends from earlier asked you. ellie began to make her way down the steps and down the isle, you quick to follow. "yes, yeah. we just got a little lost." you speak slowly, trying to maintain your thoughts.

your eyes scattered around to find your underwear. ellie smirked when she saw you looking around, knowing they were right in her pocket. she would give them back eventually but the thought of you walking around a few hours commando just made her feel things. catching glimpses of you around the night pulling down your dress, looking around to make sure no one can see anything. but of course in the morning she'll return them after using them all that night, after her roommate when home sick. but this is ellie we're talking about. she had to tease you just a little bit. so on day two when everyone wakes up to gather in the prayer room to see a pair of lace panties hanging from the cross, the kids and chaperones were most definitely shocked, and of course ellie earned some death glares from you in between your embarrassment. and ellie can't help but think maybe she'll hang out with you at church more often if that's the reward.

another christian!reader x ellie williams fic!

[nana-au]

i have headcanons for church boy! yuta/eren. bear with me.

yuta would act innocent and be innocent.

eren would act innocent and actually be a fucking freak.

note: sorry to any religious readers, but for this drabble's sake, i am identifying reader as agnostic/atheist. please refrain from reading this fic if you may get offended. my intentions are not to disrespect anyone or their religion.

both of them were raised in the church, their fathers being pastors so they have this pressure to be good boys. i imagine they both wear the purity rings their family gave them and they spend all their free time at the church. helping their dad find topics for his sermons, volunteering at summer bible camp, putting up decorations for holidays, etc.

maybe you would meet them at bible study. at first you were annoyed your parents signed you up for it but once you saw the tall, dark haired boy at the front of the room you suddenly couldn't think of being anywhere better.

they both would be the spitting image of perfection. dressed in their sunday best, without a wrinkle on their dress shirt. eren would probably have his sleeves rolled up, his forearms flexing when he leaned across the table to help the girl in front of you find her page.

both of them would have spotless, leather shoes that went click clack click clack across the linoleum floor of the now sweltering bible study classroom.

yuta would be so enthusiastic leading the group. his smile genuine and his gelled hair a little messy from constantly running a hand through it. his dark eyes somehow became the lightest things in the room while he dived into passage after passage.

the two of them would introduce themselves to you upon noticing how lost you looked. your parents had decided to turn a new leaf, and suddenly you all went from only attending every christmas/easter service to your family attending every sunday sermon. to say the adjustment was unwelcomed for you would be sort of an understatement. you felt lost while listening to your pastor bring up names like 'corinthians'... and who even is 'matthew'? You were exhausted, and burnt out and how bad of a teacher would they be to not notice someone who needed some guidance in the teaching's of the lord?

yuta would introduce himself - his smile a permanent fixture on his face while he shakes your hand. "if you have any questions, please don't be afraid to ask," he promises you, "that's what I'm here for." his voice was soft and his hand would basically swallow yours in his grasp - but his grip on you was gentle. you could only nod, your ability to speak lost on you upon receiving his undivided attention. his presence could only be described as angelic. his eyes on you felt like sun rays on a cool summer day and his touch felt like water - quenching a thirst inside of you that you didn't realize you had. he caused your breath to catch in your throat but if he noticed he didn't point it out. he was far too polite for that. in reality, yuta was unaware of his affect on people; especially you. you knew that if he was aware - he wasn't the type to take advantage of it.

eren wouldn't be able to hold back a smirk watching you struggle to keep up with what everyone else seemed to understand with ease. he would come over to your table group, singling you out loudly in front of everyone, "having a little trouble?" ...to anyone who was used to seeing eren every day since a young boy they would believe his expression showed genuine concern. but all you saw was a man unwilling to hide his smirk as you stuttered your way through a verse. a man utterly amused being in the presence of a girl who wasn't raised the way he was. he always seemed to linger behind you after your first interaction with him. he watched you highlight the passages he read out loud and witnessed you doodling in the little notebook that was meant for you to annotate. he leaned over your chair, his arms caging you between him and his chest pressing against your back. "cute. but let's make sure we're focusing, hmm?" he whispered into your ear.

they both would end up inviting you to do private studies with them at their home - they were the pastor's son after all - and what better way to prepare to take over as pastor one day then to be able to bring an unbeliever into the light of god?

you couldn't deny them even if you tried. there was something about them that drew you closer.

eren was all-consuming. there was something about the way he carried himself - domineering almost. the tan skin of his neck flexing with every deep swallow he took - his gaze unnerving under the fluorescent lighting of the bible study room while he watched you thumb through the pages of your clearly unused bible.

yuta was electric. he held a youthful attitude towards everything. the kind of carefree only a man of faith could have; so sure of his beliefs and finding comfort in the stories he taught. he was kind, and warm... you hadn't thought it possible to find a man so gentle. or easily flustered.

you had realized the both of them had a deeper reasoning to invite you to study at their house - whether they were aware of it or not.

(pt. 2 coming soon i have to go to work :sob:)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWO ━━ Silence and Static

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing really, paige is just kinda emo lol

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: sorry this is such a filler and it’s boring but it’s meant to serve as a basis for paige’s perspective after her and dani’s fall out

THE START of senior year has a bitter taste that Paige wasn’t prepared for. She’s envisioned this time in her life in so many different ways—dominating on the court, coasting through classes with Dani by her side, enjoying the final months before the world outside St. Louis Park opens up to them. But reality always has a way of shattering things, leaving Paige to pick up the pieces of what’s supposed to be the best year of her life.

The ache in Paige’s chest is a constant reminder of what she’s lost—or more accurately, what’s been torn away from her without any explanation. As she sits at the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, Paige’s fingers hover over the message icon, the urge to text Dani overwhelming. She doesn’t know what she’d say; she just wants to talk her. But the memory of her and Dani’s last conversation stops any true thought or idea of communicating with the brunette. She was so hostile, so cold, so different from Dani—who’s always been warm and kind and true. And now Paige stares at the last message she received from the girl and it hurts her eyes to even look at.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

i’m going to camp, won’t have my phone

sorry

It was sent in early June, and that was it. No further explanation, nothing to ease the anxiety that had gripped Paige the rest of the summer afterwards. And now, Dani and Paige are both back, and yet, the aforementioned is more distant than ever before. The silence between them has grown thick, suffocating, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts and the static of unanswered questions buzzing in her mind.

With a heavy sigh, Paige tosses her phone aside and forces herself to get up and get dressed. She goes through the motions: pulling on her favorite UConn hoodie, tying her shoes, grabbing her bag. But everything just feels off. The hoodie’s too heavy, her shoes too tight, and the backpack weighs down her shoulders more than it should. It’s as if the world has shifted slightly, leaving her out of sync with everything around her.

As Paige trudges down the stairs, she finds her dad and Drew in the kitchen, the two of them already busy with their morning routine. The smell of bacon and maple syrup fills the air, though it doesn’t bring its usual comfort to Paige.

“Senior year, P!” her dad, Bob, chirps, grinning sideways at his daughter as he packs Drew’s lunch box. “You excited?”

Paige forces a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Bob’s brows furrow slightly at her tone, sensing the lie beneath the surface, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he just hands Paige a piece of bacon, which she gladly accepts. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” he replies, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Paige nods, sending him a short smile before making her way over to Drew. He sits at the table, eating his pancakes. She ruffles his hair a little, and then kisses it lightly, saying, “Have a good first day, ‘kay? Better tell me all about it when you get home.”

Drew will be in first grade and he’s been bustling with excitement to start back up in school since it ended, having had a wonderful kindergarten year. Paige adores her little brother’s innocence, his love for learning. It clenches at her heartstrings a little bit, though—it feels like he’s growing too fast.

Drew sends his older sister a grin, saying with his mouth full, “I will, Paigey!”

She smiles back, this one reaching her eyes a bit more, before mumbling her goodbyes, Amaya sending a text telling Paige she’s here. No, Paige does not have her license yet—no, she doesn’t want to talk about it. She heads out the door, the morning air crisp. It does little to clear her mind. She smiles a little at her sophomore friend as she gets into the passenger seat, greeting her. Amaya grins back, though she’s clearly unhappy with the fact summer’s over.

When they arrive, the parking lot is already half-full, students milling about in groups, laughing and talking and probably complaining about the fact that school’s back in session. Paige isn’t offended when Amaya leaves her side to go to her friends in her own grade, bounding over to them happily. Besides, the blonde has already spotted Thaliah Sommers and KK Adams near the entrance, the pair waving at her with tired smiles.

“Hey, P,” KK greets. “Senior year, yeah?”

“Seems like it,” Paige replies, glancing at the building, lips pulled into a tight line. She doesn’t even bother trying to fake another smile, expression brittle at this point. Her friends don’t seem to care; they both look more than exhausted, their summer sleep schedules most likely not mingling well with the early arrival time.

“Can’t believe I have a first period,” Thaliah grumbles, wiping at her eyes. Truthfully, the girl looks as if she’s just rolled out of bed—sporting a sweatshirt and sweatpants, face bare. It seems as though senior year has made them all careless.

“Yeah, but at least you get out after fourth,” Paige reasons, shaking her head as she thinks of her own schedule. “I have all these random free periods between my classes, so I gotta stay here all day. I’ll prolly just end up bothering Coach during ‘em.”

“I’d hate that,” Thaliah agrees, scrunching her face up as the three of them begin to walk into the building, recognizing that class starts in a few short minutes.

Inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school surrounds Paige. Lockers slamming shut, freshman looking lost, teachers already reprimanding students. To her disappointment, Paige doesn’t feel a single ounce of excitement as she takes in her surroundings, instead only feeling an unfamiliar sheen of anxiety graze over her skin. She knows why. Lately, everything that’s wrong with Paige has led back to the same thing. Dani has always been her constant; though, now, it’s in a far different way than it was before. Dani seems to be the source of all of Paige’s problems, all of her recent negative feelings, the new emotions she’s been experiencing. The absolute lack of Danielle Callan has rocked Paige’s world more than most would believe possible.

And Paige has no idea whether it helps or not that her first class of the day is AP Lit—the only class she and Dani will have together the whole school year. When they were signing up for classes last spring, it was Dani’s idea to take it together. Dani had always planned to take it, but when she found out that none of their friends had that same idea, she needed someone. And that someone—always—was Paige. The blonde was hesitant, because, truthfully, she’s only ever heard bad things about the class. The teacher’s good—Paige knows that, she had her for English her freshman year—but, according to some of Paige’s older friends that have since graduated, the class is apparently a shit ton of reading and too difficult for her own good. Yet, because it was Dani, Paige had agreed. And the thought of spending that hour with Dani every single day was enough to make the thought of tackling Shakespeare and Faulkner bearable (especially knowing that Dani would be there to help her). But now, as Paige steps into the typical flamboyant English type of classroom, the reality of what happened over the summer hits her like a tidal wave.

Dani’s already there, sitting in the middle row, her light brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looks tired, shoulders slightly hunched and dark circles under her eyes, gazing vacantly at her desk. Paige’s heart twists a little at the sight. It’s not as if Paige hasn’t seen Dani at all since their fight—she has. They live right next door to each other, of course she has. But it still hurts all the same. To be completely cut off with little to no explanation by your best friend who you also happen to be hopelessly in love with is fucking painful.

Paige hesitates in the doorway, her feet rooted to the ground as her eyes stay on Dani. She wants nothing more than to go to her, to sit beside her like they always have, to pretend that everything is okay, even if it’s not. But something in Dani’s posture, in the way she keeps her eyes downcast, warns Paige to stay back and keep her distance.

“Oh, Paige!” Mrs. Donovan, the AP Lit teacher, calls out in excitement as her eyes land on her student. She grins brightly—a bit too brightly for the early hour, Paige can’t help but think—and gestures to a desk. The one that’s— “You’re right behind Danielle!”

Dani doesn’t look up at the sound of her name, doesn’t bother to acknowledge Paige’s presence at all. The blonde swallows hard, forcing herself to move. She slides into the seat Mrs. Donovan gestured to, the one right behind Dani, her heart pounding against her rib cage. From this close, Paige can see the tension in Dani’s shoulders, the way her fingers tap anxiously against the surface of the desk. Paige can only imagine how Dani’s feeling—but, still, she’s usually mostly accurate. Dani’s always been more introverted, and new schedules, new routines, and new people tend to make her anxious. Paige can tell she’s feeling that way right now. Because, despite everything, Dani is still Dani. And Paige will always know Dani. The blonde wants to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words only stick in her throat.

As the bell rings and Mrs. Donovan starts the class, handing out syllabi and talking about what to expect for the year, Paige’s mind strays far from the discussion. Instead, she finds herself staring at the back of Dani’s head, thoughts and memories circling through her head with unwarranted clarity.

JULY 2013

THEY’RE ELEVEN years old, and the summer sun blazes over them as Paige and Dani sit on the swings at the park near their houses. It’s a place they’ve been coming to for years, one of their constants. In fact, it’s actually where they first met.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the sweet aroma of the cherry popsicles the girls devoured earlier. Paige’s legs pump the air lazily, the tips of her shoes grazing the ground, while Dani swings a bit higher, her hair flying out behind her like a banner in the wind. The worn-out metal creaks with each swing, a familiar sound that blends into the background of their laughter and chatter.

“Race you to the top!” Dani suddenly shouts, voice filled with a reckless enthusiasm that usually belongs in Paige’s instead. Without waiting for a response, Dani leaps off the swing, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, making a beeline for the jungle gym.

Paige’s laugh bursts out of her before she can help it, and she scrambles to follow, heart pounding with the thrill of the chase. “No fair, you started first!” she calls, her words trailing behind her as she races after her best friend.

They reach the platform that hovers above the slide, the same spot where Dani broke her arm years before. Paige remembers it vividly—how Dani had cried, the way her elbow was bent all weird, and how Paige had held her hand the entire car ride to the hospital. The spot is a little scarred now, but it doesn’t stop them from sitting side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge as they survey their world from above.

From this vantage point, Paige can see so much more. The neighborhood spreads out before them like a patchwork quilt, each house a different square, each tree a different shade of green. The sun casts long shadows, making the world below them seem like a dream, distant and hazy. There’s a stillness in the air, a peaceful quiet that Paige—for once—isn’t the one who breaks.

“P?” Dani asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Paige hums in question, keeping her gaze out before her instead of on the girl next to her. There’s something in Dani’s voice that makes her brain short circuit a little, a seriousness that doesn’t belong in the carefree world around them. “Yeah?” Paige asks, trying to sound light, though a small knot of worry forms in her stomach.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Dani’s words hang in the air between them, heavy and laden with thought.

Paige turns to look over at her now, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Dani’s never been the type to dwell on what’s ahead—in fact, she says it scares her too much to even think about it. Instead, she usually submerges herself in now, living in the moment, seizing the day with both hands.

“What d’you mean?” Paige replies, voice soft, almost afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing Dani is holding onto.

Dani shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with a casualness that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Like… what we’ll be like when we’re older,” Dani elaborates, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “We’re starting middle school now, and I always hear things about friends drifting apart. I just wonder if, when we’re older—like high school or something—if we’ll still be friends. Or if things will have changed.” Dani keeps her eyes out on the horizon, expression thoughtful as Paige gazes at her.

Paige feels an odd tension in her stomach at the thought of losing Dani, of the possibility of their friendship fading away. It’s too painful, too much that would be taken at once, to even consider. Dani is Paige’s constant, her anchor in a world that sometimes feels too big and too overwhelming for the eleven-year-old. The idea that they could ever grow apart feels like a betrayal of everything they’ve ever promised each other.

“We’ll always be friends,” she says with confidence. Because, in what world could they not be? “Nothing will ever be able to change that, ‘kay?”

Dani finally looks back at Paige now, her expression softening, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, the seriousness begins to seep out of her. “Promise?”

Paige doesn’t hesitate, reaching out to hook her pinky around Dani’s. It’s a childish gesture that fits the friendship between two young girls. But this time, it’s true—a vow that they’re both determined to keep.

“Promise,” Paige echoes, squeezing Dani’s pinky with her own.

As they sit there, side-by-side on the playground, the world feels small and manageable, just for a little while longer. And, here and now, Paige allows herself to believe that nothing with ever come between her and Dani—no matter what.

PAIGE BLINKS, the memory fading just as their promise did. It hurts all over to think about the fact that she was so sure that nothing would ever come between them, that their friendship was absolutely unbreakable. But now, here they are, strangers but not at all, bigger walls being built between them each and every day.

The weight of that lost connection presses down on Paige’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Her lungs flare in and out. She wants—needs—to do something, to find a way to bridge the gap between them. But she just doesn’t know how, the silence and static between them far too heavy. And the fear that she might never get the chance to again is almost enough to make Paige’s lungs go out completely.

Mrs. Donovan’s voice drones on in the background, but Paige can’t focus on the words. All she can see is the back of Dani’s head, the way her highlights illuminate her brown hair at certain angles, the way she shifts uncomfortable in her seat every now and then, probably feeling the weight of the blonde’s gaze tearing into her back. It’s almost as if an invisible barrier has been built between them, one that Paige can’t tear down no matter how hard she tries.

Finally, the bell rings, signaling the end of class. Paige watches as Dani gathers her things quickly, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as she hurries out of the room. Paige lingers there for a second, heart sinking slightly as she watches Dani slip out the door, her back rigid, her steps quick and purposeful.

Paige feels a mixture of relief, dread, and—oddly enough—excitement. Relief that first period is over, dread at the thought of facing Dani again. But, at the same time, excitement about seeing Dani again. Because if this is the only time Paige can see her, if AP Lit is truly all Paige will ever be able to get out of the brunette again, she’ll take it. As pathetic as it sounds, she’ll take as much—or as little, she supposes—of Dani as she can get.

THE FOOTBALL game is the first big event of the back to school season, and Paige stands there in the student section with Thaliah and Amaya. It’s not like Paige has any particular interest in football; of course, she’s always preferred basketball. But she’s been in need of a distraction, something big and exciting enough to pull her out of the unfamiliar melancholy that’s settled over her, and it seems like a high school football game under the lights is the perfect choice.

The student section is alive with energy, the kids screaming and chanting things that they probably shouldn’t be as the game kicks off. Paige does her best to lose herself in the excitement. She screams along with her friends, sweating slightly under the setting sun, grabbing a Hawaiian lei excitedly when KK offers her one. It’s beach theme tonight—Paige tried to fit into it, wearing sunglasses and some beach button up with a white crop top, the lei helping to add to it.

But as Paige’s eyes drift along the players, along the field, along the track—her eyes land on her and it’s almost as if any and all excitement that had settled inside of Paige is whisked away, just like that. Dani stands on the sidelines, between the line of football players and the cheerleaders, her camera clicking away. It’s not like this is a new thing—Dani did this last year, for yearbook, and Paige shouldn’t be surprised to see her doing it again this year.

The Callan girl has always been passionate about photography, and it’s one of the many things that Paige has learned to love about her through the years. Paige knows that Dani has a way of almost losing herself in the click of her camera, finding beauty in the smallest details, the most mundane moments captured and crafted into something beguiling. Dani used to show Paige all the photos she’d taken, scrolling through the storage on the camera. The two of them would huddle over the device, and Paige would help her best friend pick the best photos for whatever project she was working on in yearbook.

And then, of course, there’s the other memory card that Dani has—the one that Paige knows is labeled “P.” It’s simple—all of the scattered photos that Dani has taken of Paige over the years, all put together on one little storage device. Dani told Paige several times that it was her greatest piece of work, merely because Paige was the star of it. Yet, for a while, Dani didn’t let the blonde look into it, keeping the memory card hidden away. But, eventually, Paige’s curiosity got the better of her and she’d found the card and scrolled through the photos. There were some from when Dani first got into photography, when they were much younger, with chubbier cheeks and more crooked smiles. A good amount was the photos Dani got of Paige court-side, some for the yearbook, some just reserved for the two of them. And then there was the candid ones—Paige remembers scrolling through them, and the look in her own eyes that stared at Dani from behind the camera… God, she remembers thinking that it seems she was whipped from the very beginning.

Paige’s heart clenches at the thought of that memory card, and wishes she was a photographer so she could have one of Dani. She’s got a fair few—or, well, a lot—of photos of Dani on her phone, but it’s just not the same. Faintly, Paige wonders what Dani’s done with the “P” card. Maybe she threw it away, crushed it into tiny little pieces, tossing it into the trash like she did her and Paige’s friendship. Or maybe—maybe—she’s kept it. Paige hopes it’s the latter; she imagines Dani, late at night, thinking of Paige like Paige has been thinking of her, and then going through the photos of her, wishing she could take back everything she said.

Paige almost rolls her eyes at her own thoughts. She’s almost sure Dani threw it away.

And then, the blonde is pulled out of her own head by the sound of the crowd erupting into a series of cheers, the band beginning to play. She glances at the field, then at the scoreboard, realizing she’s just missed a touchdown. Thaliah and Amaya and all the students around Paige are jumping up and down, chanting for Hopkins. Paige joins in, trying to drown herself in it, doing her best to put her mind to rest and just have some fun—she’s always been so good at that; she wishes it wasn’t so hard to do recently.

When the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game, Hopkins pulls through with a narrow win. The crowd is excited for their first victory of the season, screaming those “start the buses” and “who’s your daddy” chants that Paige has always found ridiculously hilarious. Eventually, everyone begins to disperse, and Paige stands with Thaliah and Amaya, the three of them following the rush of students leaving the bleachers.

Amaya quickly tells Paige and Thaliah that she has to go to the bathroom, rushing towards the building. The other two girls stand around patiently, people watching their peers. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until Paige’s eyes once again find Dani’s frame. The brunette is packing up her camera gear, hauling a small duffel on her shoulder.

Thaliah follows the blonde’s gaze, nudging her gently. “You should go talk to her,” she says encouragingly, nodding towards Dani.

Paige shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.” It’s true; she remembers their last conversation—the cold look in Dani’s eye, the forced indifference, the river she rushed to drown Paige away.

“You’ve been miserable,” Thaliah says, point-blank. Paige’s eyes shift to her left, where the tanned girl stands beside her, brows furrowing in almost offense. “Don’t side-eye me like that—you know you’ve been miserable. And I think you’ve got nothing to lose these days when it comes to Dani, so you might as well just try.”

Paige doesn’t answer, eyes merely locking back onto her best friend. Without thinking, almost like her legs are moving of their own accord, the blonde starts walking towards Dani. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, doesn’t know if Dani will let even let a word slip out of her mouth. But Thaliah’s right: it’s worth a shot. Paige can’t leave without even trying.

As she approaches, she watches Dani glance up, eyes meeting Paige’s. It lasts for only the briefest of seconds before Dani plainly averts her gaze, eyes anywhere but on the blonde walking up to her. Paige feels her heart stutter against her rib cage, threatening to sink at the sight, but, nevertheless, she keeps going, only stopping when she’s a few feet away from the brunette.

“Dani,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft, almost pleading. It’s all she can say; she doesn’t know what else to say.

The basketball player watches as her best friend’s body goes rigid, her hands stilling on her camera bag. It takes a second, but eventually Dani looks up, meets Paige’s gaze, brown on blue. There’s an unnameable emotion swirling within the Callan girl’s irises, and Paige wants nothing more than to step closer, to look deeper in them, to decipher exactly what’s going on in her best friend’s head. But she doesn’t. Paige stays rooted in place. And, for one, stupid moment, she believes that Dani might actually say something, that maybe this could be the first step in their repair.

But it doesn’t last.

“Dani!” multiple voices echo the name from the pair’s right. Paige turns to see Beau Hudson, still clad in his football gear and eyeblack, grinning and waving at Dani—his girlfriend, the blonde thinks, sickly—beckoning her over. He seeps with the same overconfidence he’s had the twelve years that Paige has known him, and it makes her blood boil over slightly. By his side is Serena Corren—a cheerleader that also happens to be Beau’s best friend, who’s famously known for her sharp tongue and dismissive attitude—also grinning and waving. Serena and Beau stand with a group that’s more than excited and impatient for Dani to join them.

Paige’s stomach twists at the sight. It’s clear that her best friend has integrated herself into this new crowd, one that Paige has always found superficial and unkind.

“I have to go,” Dani mutters to Paige, not meeting the blonde’s eyes. She slings her bag over her shoulder before hurrying off to her new friends, leaving Paige standing there, aching all over.

Paige watches Dani go, feeling like the weight of the world is pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down. She wants to scream, to cry, to do something to make Dani see that they don’t have to be like this, that they can fix whatever has gone wrong. But she can’t. So, instead, she just stands there, staring, missing her best friend.

Yes, Paige misses her. God, she misses her so much that it fucking hurts—it hurts her insides, her outsides, her bones, her skin. It makes her feel all wrong. Every part of her aches with the absence of Dani Callan, the loss of everything they’ve had. She misses Dani’s smile, the gleam in her eyes when she’d look at Paige, the giggles she’d let out whenever the point guard made a stupid joke. She misses the way Dani used to make her feel—alive, whole, like she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, as long as Dani was by her side.

But now all of that’s just—gone. And that’s clear as day as Paige watches Beau Hudson wrap his arm around Dani before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.

She’s going to be sick.

Paige feels a hand on her arm, a head resting on her shoulder. It grounds her a little. Thaliah mumbles, “It’s gonna be okay, P.”

Paige doesn’t have the heart to say it, but she knows that’s not true. There is nothing okay with the fact that Dani is slipping—or, she supposes, has already slipped—through her fingers. There is nothing okay with the loneliness and pain that comes with it.

Paige doesn’t really know if anything will ever be okay again.

[silaslich]

Could you plz write more Ghost x amab!reader (maybe some angst and internalised homophobia/catholic guilt?) I just read your recent fic and its so good!!??? Its so difficult finding any x male!reader stuff </3

Firstly- thank you for the love on the last ghostxm!reader fic! It was very therapeutic to write I can’t lie. Secondly- I hope I did this justice as I know it’s going to be sensitive and sorry that it’s so short for this reason! Ily <3

Tw - internalised homophobia, religious guilt, 18+, blowjob, homophobia [parental+peers]

There’s that everlasting fight between your head and your heart. Knowing how you feel but also knowing how others want you to feel.

Pretending had been easier when you were younger. There had been the absence of those awkward questions over the dinner table when family visited or the knowing looks people gave you when everyone was around for the holidays.

You had always thought you were so solid in your beliefs when you were a kid. Attending Sunday school and church summer camps; wearing a cross around your neck and never taking it off no matter how much your mum told you to because it would tarnish.

Every night you’d kneel at your bedside and place your hands together, muttering as you closed your eyes tightly. Praying for happiness and health for yourself and your family.

You’re kneeling by your bed still- but instead of being pressed together in prayer your hands are braced against Simon’s thighs, tears stinging your eyes as he fucks his cock into the wet-warmth of your mouth. You gag around the girth of him, listening as he slurs your name. Part of you feels the way your stomach blooms with need, a deep rooted craving to be ruined at the hands of this man; the other part of you recognises the shame that strums away in your chest- ever present.

He leans forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, feeling where his cock sits through your skin. You have to squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to catch the look in his eyes. He hisses through his teeth when you press your tongue along the underside of him, taking him further into your throat. It’s a reoccurring thing - drawn into him only to wish the time away. If Simon’s noticed he hasn’t said a thing. You’re not sure that he would but either way you’re grateful of it.

Simon cums in your mouth and makes a show of watching you swallow it, you preen at his praise and he smothers his mouth to yours. You still in his hold when he tries to pull you into him, into your bed. His eyes dart across your face, reading your expression and his face falls; he lets go of you completely and you can’t even look at him anymore.

It often ends like this. Cut short for no apparent reason. Whether it’s wrong or right- you can’t help it. There’s no explaining it on your behalf, not really. Even if you know, you don’t want to admit it to yourself. That would make it real, it would prove everyone right and your pride couldn’t take that kind of hit.

It takes you back to being fourteen again. Wondering why something feels off. Confused as to why your friends are giddy and sheepish when they tell you about a girl they fancy. You’d never really thought about it. It takes another year before you finally understand. Watching as a boy in the year above you plays rugby out on the school field, covered in mud and sweat and looking different that he had done just yesterday. Thats the first time you’d understood your friends, but it was a real life horror when you learnt that it wasn’t normal to feel that same giddiness about a boy. You had been foolish to let it slip, to tell your friends about your crush when they were telling you about theirs. They’d laughed and laughed until tears sprung their eyes - and then they’d jumped you outside of the school gates as soon as it came to home time. You’d limped home with a cracked tooth and a swollen face, expecting your mother to clean your wounds and tell you it would all be okay- she didn’t. Instead she shut you out. Told you that you were no son of hers. She’d been in utter denial for years, as had your father. He’s confused. It’s a phase. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s just trying to be defiant he’ll grow out of it. God will help cure him honey. Let’s pray.

You lay staring at the ceiling. Replaying their voices over and over again in your head. It’s all you can hear when you look at Simon. Their taunting voices about your confusion and your faith. They told you how God wouldn’t follow you down this path you were treading, that all you had to do is beg for his forgiveness and repent. Horseshit.

The cross laying on your chest feels as though it burns, despite it all, you hadn’t taken it off. Perhaps it’s because you still believe in God, even though you don’t pray or go to church you still believe in some divine power of some sort - even if it’s just a little bit. It’s that little bit of hope that you know you’re doing the right thing. That no matter who you’ve lost along the way, you’ve found yourself.

You suppose you can’t be mad at people for not understanding. Even if they’re the ones who should love you through anything and everything - you can’t be mad at them for trusting what they know more than what they’re afraid of. Because that’s what it is. They’re scared that you’ll go to hell, that your sexuality defines your worth and whether or not you’ll reach those pearly gates. The thought makes you scoff, because it sounds ridiculous, you suppose you think that because you’re not exactly a believer. How can you believe in a God that would abandon you for the simple reason of loving someone?

It sparks something in your chest. It spreads like wildfire until it crawls up your throat- suffocating you.

There’s suddenly rapid knocking at Simon’s door and it startles him awake, he’s a light sleeper as it is. Simon reaches the door quickly and before the door is even open fully you’re on him. Smothering your lips to his. He’s frigid for all of three seconds before his fingers are rooted in your flesh. Curling into your clothes and pulling you closer.

Beliefs and beloveds be damned. If God abandons you, there’s no chance that Simon Riley will.

[morganbritton132]

Can just picture Eddie posting videos from back in the 80’s and everyone going so wild thirsting for Steve that Eddie starts feeling some type of way even though that’s his husband lol

Eddie has never been insecure about his relationship.

Don’t get him wrong though.

It is annoying when you’re closeted in your hometown and have to watch girl after girl shoot their shot with your boyfriend. It is irritating when you take your boyfriend to his first gay club and every five minutes someone tries to interrupt you dancing with him to try to grind on your boyfriend. It is borderline rude when you’re married and on a date, and your waiter tries to slip your husband her phone number.

Eddie gets it – Steve is too hot for his own good – but he isn’t insecure.

He bagged Hawkins’ most eligible bachelor right after the worst week of his entire goddamn existence. Steve had a front row seat to a lot of his lowest of lows and still made out with him. Eddie had been happy to just fool around with his old high school crush but then Steve had to go pull the rug out front under him and get disowned for telling his parents that he was in love with him.

So, yeah.

There are always people thirsting after Steve but Steve Harrington wears his love so completely and openly in every ounce of his being that Eddie has never had any doubt who it’s directed towards. He is not insecure.

However.

Some of these people need to calm the fuck down.

Eddie posts a clip of Steve and Dustin bickering at each other from an old home video that he must’ve borrowed from Jonathan and forgot to give back. It from before Eddie’s time with the party.

The greater context of the video is that someone was throwing a going away party for Dustin before he left for summer camp, but it’s very clear that Steve did not know this when he walks into the house. He very clearly showed up post-workout.

In the clip, Steve is complaining about Dustin not telling him about the party and Dustin is telling him that he did tell him (“That’s not true. I told you to come here at six and bring me my flashlight. What else would I have meant?”). Eddie captioned it something like, “Some things never change.”

It’s a pretty innocuous video about two brothers giving each other a hard time but then if you read the comments, you will feel the need to go to church and repent. All the comments are about Steve’s spandex-y workout shorts. All the stitches are people trying to enhance screenshots of the video to see the outline of Steve’s dick, and really it’s – “Jesus H. Christ.”

Eddie ends up deleting the video because, “He’s seventeen in it, sickos.”

[the-ace-with-spades]

Bradley was a total loser in high school but in the way that he was still liked by everyone. He was all over the place, playing baseball, doing theater (mostly musicals...), and keeping up with all the 'nerds' in his year in maths and physics, a mathlete, all to make himself a good candidate for the USNA. He'd also go to youth military camps during summer and worked a part-time job since he was a sophomore.

Everyone at school knew of him, but he was so closed off that he was a mystery to many, which in turn made him have close to zero friends, but people liked him and he was never bullied. This was partially due to being too busy to have friends, partially due to him being afraid to bring friends home (because of Mav and Ice's secret relations...) and partially because Bradley had a hard time making friends in general — he's been moving around a lot as a kid and often had to swap schools mid-semester but also had more trauma and issues than your average kid.

And a lot of the kids who did try to befriend him were intimidated —Bradley was a chill, friendly, and nice guy on the surface, very talented as well, seemed not to care about other people's opinions and just did his thing, but then the minute you learned more about him, he was intense. He had his whole life planned already in a way most teenagers do not — chose his college, chose the job he wants, has been preparing for it for years already. Military camps, pilot licence, science on a level suitable for aerospace engineering, multiple side hobbies, all successful, deep knowledge of the military and political scene, all before he even finished high school. To the kids who learned more about him he was cool, but in the 'he seems like a future legend' way, almost too picture-perfect. It was very isolating for Bradley but also something he carried into adulthood out of haplessness — he can be the heart of the crowd, but he's never close with anyone, opposite of an open book, always trying to do his own thing while trying to not care about what others think (this has also been exaggerated by what Mav did to his USNA application...)

Jake was from the popular crowd but a lot of people only pretended to like him. He was the football star and had pretty good grades, took part in the debate club and also volunteered with their church — in their small town, he was the perfect golden child. Every parent wanted their kid to be like him. A lot of people only befriended him because they thought being friends with him would also put them on the same pedestal and were pretty fake, disliking him behind his back.

On the inside though, he was just the local farmers' boy who always gave all of himself to others, no matter what it was. His humility was genuine at the beginning but when everyone questioned him and called it fake, he started to have an attitude just to appease everyone's expectations and not be eaten alive. He didn't know what he wanted to do with his life but he tried to give his best whatever he wasn't doing — so a lot of the things he did were what he felt was expected of him. He's tall and athletic, their football team is good — he should join. His dad never finished high school and wanted his kids to have a good education — so he tried his best to make him proud. His mama ran the local book club and helped the church and their pastor almost every day — he should show that he inherited some of her leadership and good, god-lead heart. It even went to a point where he knew he wasn't interested in girls at all, but felt like he had to try because that's what teenage popular boys do — they date, they hook up, they have crushes.

Choosing to go USNA and deciding he wanted to be an aviator was the first thing he did for himself (after letting himself develop a fascination with flying and planes first) and so many people were disappointed with him — so many people said he was wasting his potential, a career in varsity football, any other potentially well-paying, respected jobs he could get if he went to a good college and not joined the military. Every single adult discouraged him from it, telling him how he's not going to do well and how he had more options than almost all of the kids in their town. Even his own parents were, well not unsupportive but also not very supportive. His dad who had been drafted, openly discouraged him from joining the military and often said he should not waste all his hard work.

(The above was brought to you by a fic idea: Bradley didn't go to his high school reunion but when Jake gets an invite for his, he feels like he needs to go to prove something to himself - that all the people who said he's wasting his potential and who pretended to like him to be in the right social circles were wrong and that he's happy and satisfied with his life.

He and Bradley are together at the time and he decides to take him as his plus one. This proves to be another challenge — taking his boyfriend to his small, kinda homophobic town, and trying to fight off the reality and judgment from all the people he's always wanted to please and prove something to.

Especially since Bradley doesn't completely understand why Jake wants to do it — he can see how badly it's affecting him and he just doesn't get the point of doing something or interacting with people who make Jake feel shitty about himself. He's conflicted between being supportive and calling Jake out on how self-destructive and pointless the whole reunion is for him.

Also: Jake's parents and Jake's ex-girlfriends. Disaster waiting to happen.)

[subskz]

CHURCHBOY AU???? I’M REVERTING BACK 🤩 gotta tie in our original role for him into this new, delicious ask.

overhearing that priest’s son hanji is becoming a councilor at the closest church camp for the summer…. well you just happen to also be a councilor there 😼 spending a summer of what should be spreading the gospel to young impressionable, guilt-ridden youth (i spent many summers at church camp, can you tell 😪), by pushing hanji into the lakehouse and jerking him off, whispering the most disgusting things in his ear, all while he bites down on his stupidly plush lips to keep quiet 😖

not even far into the summer having him begging for you to touch him, and giving in just to taunt him!! “you’re in such a holy place and all you can think about is sex? such a perv”

ugh…. i can’t handle this. now i’m gonna be thinking about the churchboy cinematic universe for the rest of the week 💔🔨 -🐾

suddenly it’s summer 2021 again 🙏 i had a feeling the churchboy au resonated w you from the times u brought it up heheh im very grateful u know what you’re talking abt bc im always kinda freestyling it w this au

camp counselor hanji…we are so back 😼 from day one you’ve got his full attention w lingering glances and “accidental” touches that get bolder and bolder the more time you spend together. you dont even have to tease him for long before he’s completely wrapped around your finger, bc poor hannie’s never been flirted w this much in his life and he doesn’t know how to handle it, esp when he’s supposed to be the shining example of purity. he’s like a lovesick puppy immediately, going from the charismatic leader teaching and entertaining the students, to a dumb, stuttering mess around you. but the way he gets so awkward around you, watching you w the most unfairly innocent eyes and the most obvious blush spreading across his face, makes him even more charming to you

getting him alone while everyone else is busy w camp activities and pushing him into the lakehouse ❤️‍🔥 the added risk of someone going looking for you only to find the priest’s son falling apart in the palm of your hand just turns him on more, and the guilt he feels for that is palpable. he thinks he might cum the instant you wrap your hands around him bc he’s wanted this so bad since the first day and he feels his whole body go hot w shame when you make him admit to touching himself to the thought of you every night. and taunting him for being such a hypocrite is the icing on the cake…degrading him for being so filthy in such a holy place and telling him he’s much better fit to be your personal toy than preaching abt religion <3

[gilverrwrites]

Hellooo, I hope ur doing well ;) Can I request Bruce Wayne/Batman for the headcanon meme ? I know this is a lot and I apologise in advance lol, but I’m genuinely so interested about your takes on Bruce 🫶🏼 Hi anon, I hope you don't mind but I'm posting this as a text post so I can add a read more to it. Thank you so much for the ask, I'm honored that you're curious my HCs. Again thank you, and have a super rest of your day! 💖💖💖

• what religion are they? how do they practice? Canonically, I believe he was raised catholic, and identifies as an atheist because if there was an all knowing God, why would he let Gotham exist as it is?

But I’ve always had trouble rationalising religion in comics. I’m also an atheist but if I’d met/knew Gods literally walked the Earth (Zeus for example) I would be having a crisis of faith. Pretty sure Superman once met the Christian God? Bruce clearly has a stronger sense of belief than I.  

So, practice wise; Growing up would be church on Sundays, grace before dinner. Nightly prayers. Once his parents had passed, while Bruce would be questioning his faith, I don’t think Alfred would have enforced such things if Bruce didn’t want to continue practicing.

• what holidays do they decorate for? For the longest time he didn’t decorate for any. Alfred decorated at least for Christmas every year, but Bruce stopped noticing once he became Batman.

It wasn’t until a young Dick mentioned he’d never been trick or treating that Bruce started to put the effort in. That year Dick had the best Robin Hood costume, Bruce dressed as Little John, and Alfred as Friar Tuck. Not only did Dick get to go trick or treating, but Bruce and Alfred decked out the front yard for any local kids too.

When thanksgiving rolled around, Alfred was delighted that Bruce seemed to care about it again, having gone out to buy new centre pieces. And that year was the first year since he was child that Bruce helped put up the Christmas decorations.

Every year he tried to one up the last, however, his presence on the day dwindles until Dick goes off to college and Bruce’s motivation to care about such frivolous things while Gotham needs him is gone. But this exact process repeats with every adopted child until there’s always somebody home, be they young and living with him or old and visiting.

• what clubs / sports were they involved in as a child / teenager When he dropped out of school, that also meant quitting any clubs and sports. The lack of team sports is probably a contributing factor to his inability to communicate well with others outside of strategy. However, prior to that he was a Cub Scout, as well as tennis and fencing (fuckin’ Rich kids).

Post homeschool (much like in the Gotham TV show) Alfred ensured Bruce was still doing outdoorsy activities; camping, hiking, learning survival skills. As well as Bruce insisting on multiple forms of combat training. He continued fencing.

• do they take any medications? No. That’s not to say he shouldn’t be on medication, he just doesn’t. Hard to speak to a professional when you can only tell them half of your life.

He does however take daily vitamins along with his protein, creatine etc. If he’s not taking supplements, Alfred is sneaking them into his food. He eats nothing but protein, gotta make sure he’s getting his nutrients somewhere.

• do they watch the olympics? do they prefer summer or winter Rarely has the time. But if and when he does sit down to watch I’d say his preferred watches are; tennis, fencing, boxing, and judo. Sports that mean something to him. For that reason he also prefers the summer games over winter.

• what are they like when they're sick? Nightmare. Alfred is a saint for putting up with it, honestly. That WFA comic where he’s trying desperately to get back to work whilest injured is 100% accurate to my imaginings. Even when he’s too sick to move, he’s still thinking up ways he can sneak out of bed, wondering if he should build a batlaptop for these sorts of occasions.

Crime is never sick; therefore Batman can’t be sick!

• what do they usually buy in a gift shop? It varies from place to place but typically:

Fridge magnet and/or some other small kitchen accessories for Alfred.

Stationary for Damian.

Preferably a cola drink, but if not a snack for Tim. He’s specifically looking for decorative packaging that can be saved. [See this Tim HC]

Pin badges for Babs.

Postcards for Dick.

An oversized hoodie for Cass. Black only.

An oversized hoodie for Steph. Tacky only.

Keying for Jason.

Puzzles or decorative decks of playing cards. (Duke is into tabletop card games, Bruce thinks they’re the same thing)

A coffee mug for himself.

• what color was their childhood bedroom? Blue, and it’s still blue but a lot of the furniture has changed. Can’t sleep in a kids bed forever.

Most of the new furniture is sleek, modern looking and black. He likes the gothic style, but this is where he often brings his dates/hook up, and the minimalist style suits his image better.

The old bed, desk, toy box etc haven’t been thrown out or anything, they’ve been used by most of his family as they’ve grown up and are currently in Damian’s room. Everyone who has used the desk (B included) has carved their their initials on the underside of it.

• what does a typical day off work look like for them? A day off? What’s that? Seriously, even if he’s not being Batman, he’s being Brucie, Mr Wayne, Matches, or Dad or even just working out.

On the rare, rare, rare occasions he’s not doing any of those things, the first thing he does is sleep in. He probably needs to sleep for 5 days straight, but he’ll only sleep until 10/11ish.

By now he’s missed breakfast (which is served from 8-9), so he’s latching onto the first person to pick up the phone and taking them out for brunch. By now he’s already itching to get back in the cave, and to thwart this he forces himself to stay in the city; go to a museum, walk in that park, visit a friend, go shopping for (another) new watch, anything but return home.

Will surprise Damian by picking him up from school. Damian, as he gets older externally complains and cringes more and more, but he loves it.

When they get home, he becomes a nuisance until dinner, offering help to everyone with anything to distract himself. It’s appreciated but nobody needs help with homework or housework.

After dinner is the home stretch, and the easiest part. He gathers as many people as he can in the family room for films or games, and by the time they’re done it’s bedtime.

He’s in the batcave at midnight.

• how many pillows do they sleep with? One. He has at least ten in the bed, every night she shifts all but his favourite to the floor, and every morning Alfred makes the bed and puts them all back and arranges them perfectly.

• what's their least favorite chore? He rarely does chores, but Alfred must have time off. The first time he took a week off since Bruce became Batman was the first time he realised the impracticality of having a CAVE! So much sweeping and dusting and everything smells damp, he has no idea how Alfred keeps it liveable because after 2 days Bruce was overwhelmed and ready to risk it all by moving everything upstairs.

• how often do they do their laundry? He doesn’t. If Alfred isn’t available, he’s been specifically instructed to take anything that needs cleaning to the dry cleaners. Not because he’s incapable of doing laundry, he’s not completely inept at doing normal things. He just thinks he can do it better. Which often results in the washer-dryer being ‘upgraded’ in ways that nobody ever needs, and Alfred hates it.

• what is their favorite wine / liquor? Prefers wine to spirits, specifically red. Or better yet, champagne.

When he does drink spirits he leans towards brandy, the same kind that his mother would drink.

• what is their favorite scent of candle? Citrusy, fresh scents. Something strong that pierced the musty smell of the Batcave or the damp of the city. Sage & citrus, lemon lime, maybe even mint cucumber.

• what's their guilty pleasure tv show? Again, he rarely watches TV. But I think at least once while on ordered bed rest he ‘accidentally’ watched every season of the Kardashian’s. He 'hated' every second.

He’s assigned all of his children a Kardashian and keeps up to date with every episode, just as a person who hates the show would do. He will never tell anyone else.

Tim knows. Bruce knows that Tim knows but they’ve never discussed it. Tim has never seen a single episode, but he’s seen memes, and will quote them in front of people to make Bruce sweat.

• have they ever done volunteer work? Bruce is a known philanthropist. The Wayne Foundation is a non-profit which primary cause is funding charities, hospitals, medical research, urban renewal, etc.

He puts a lot of money into The Wayne Hospital (or whatever its called dependant on the media). He also funds a lot of youth centres, and rehabilitation centres.

But as for actual hands-on charity work, no. It anything it would cause more harm than good.

Could you imagine being homeless, starving, at your lowest, and when you arrive there’s fucking media vans and photographers everywhere, cataloguing your worst? And then inside, the herald prince of the city that has screwed you over, billionaire Brucie Wayne is serving you ladles of dirt-cheap slop? You'd be mortified, pissed.

• do they listen to music or watch tv more often? Definitely music. TV is time consuming; music is easier to multi-task. I don't think he listens to much of anything other than classical and meditative music. Maybe some kind of classic rock workout playlist on Spotify that Babs occasionally hacks into and keeps adding back-to-back plays of Black Betty. Bruce gets so into his workouts that he doesn't notice until one day he realises he's done a 2-hour cardio session and Black Betty has been playing the entire time.

• do they watch the superbowl even if they aren't into football? Not into football and barely has the time. However, when it's football season, the men (and some women) in his social circles go crazy for it, so he keeps up with the matches through news reports and tries to watch the final, Batman missions permitting.

(Psst. I'm from the UK and know nothing about American football. I presume the Superbowl is preceded by a series of tournament matches like euro football (soccer) is?)

• do they collect anything? Children

Watches, and cars. Later in life, he's fixed on these things a lot more, because he's been collecting them for so long. But they started purely as a way to fit in with his high society peers. To make him appear more normal.

Imagine that scene in American Psycho where they're comparing busisness cards, but it's Gotham’s richest competing over who has the latest watch, the nicest vintage car etc. Now that he knows what he likes he's more focused in on those; he like vintage European watches and American cars.

I also love the idea that Dick once bought him an ugly novelty tie (completely earnestly) on like his second Christmas at the Manor, and that quickly became a tradition. Every year he gets a new tie, the most hideous the kids can find, and the following year, Bruce wears it during Christmas dinner.

• what hill are they willing to die on? Mint is the superior dessert flavour, milkshakes, ice cream, Oreos, coffee syrups. Dark chocolate and mint = peak.

[kat2107]

Since I keep seeing non-German confusion about Christmas markets being a Christian thing and no Muslims or non-Christians being there, a little primer:

Especially Americans seem to be confused about German Christianity and assume that we are kind of Christian like Americans are. That's wrong.

In daily German life, Christianity plays barely any role. At BEST you'll see some people go to church on Sunday because it's tradition. Many are nominally members of a church but not practicing.

Eastern Germany is even worse since it's a former communist area and has about 60% or more atheists. Many people there were never in their life at a church function, Sunday service or otherwise. No baptism no church funeral no Sunday school or summer camp.

In light of this, is a Christmas market a Christian event that is visited by Christians?

Hell no.

It's a winter faire. People go to have mulled wine or hot apple juice with cinnamon, there's cheesy music, expensive but sometimes good food, you eat roasted almonds, children go on merry-go-rounds, and all in all everybody has a good time freezing their asses off.

You'll find all religions, heritages, and ages at a Christmas market, like you would at any other faire. ( including so. Many. Tourists)

What Christmas markets ARE though, are symbols of a romanticized idea of Winter and Christmas. They're hallmark faires, basically. They are also places where a lot of people gather with very little space to move. No joke, these things are packed tight.

So, strong symbolism in German culture, and perfect opportunity for anyone who wants to do as much damage as possible.

Not directly connected to "Christianity", though.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 46

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/157264255

Sunday she woke up grouchy and tired. She declined to join his ride to the church, saying she didn’t feel up to it. He didn't press, reminded her ten times to call on Marston if she needs something, then left. She crawled back into bed and promptly fell asleep again, dreaming dark, wet, weird dreams. Sometime later the door banged open, there was a ruckus of things being carried in and she woke up, more groggy than she had been before sleep.

“Didn’t they have doors where you come from?” she growled from under the pile of covers.

“Actually no,” was his sheepish answer as he gently closed it. “Sorry.” A softer addition of “Come look.”

She begrudgingly heaved herself up, turned around and found him standing by the bed. Next to him, an elevated crib. He took off his hat and sank on the bed and she shifted to sit next to him, feet dangling. They stared at the crib for a long while, both with a mixture of anxiety and fascination. Savigne had been going to regular doctor appointments. She had felt the baby kicking and moving. And yet, seeing this simple piece of furniture gave it a realness, a gravity nothing else had until then. Tentatively he reached out a hand and poked it and it swung ever so gently.

“Looks kinda small,” was his hushed statement.

She felt exactly the opposite. How was she going to push something out of her that would fit into this thing? Her breath hitched at the notion. “Everything is small next to you,” she said quietly.

His eyes dropped to his large hands, then he gave the crib another narrow eyed look. “Fair.”

Fear burrowed into her again. Most of the time she felt removed from the fact that she was about to be a mother. But every now and then the idea would crystallize, rise and slap her in the face and then she felt a sense of blind panic; a compulsion to say 'Wait! Hang on! Can I slow it down a little? Can I put it on hold for a while?'

From the corner of her eye she saw him watching her profile. “Gonna be fine.”

“I know,” she lied.

These days, more and more she felt like a kite that was at the mercy of bouts of emotions that randomly rolled through her with alarming speed. She found herself flapping helplessly in storms before suddenly gliding through a warm summer breeze, then diving with the advent of a cold gust before soaring up with the lift of a spring gale.

Right about then, the kite dipped.

Talk to me when you have to push a melon out of yourself, she thought sourly. It was silly to feel like she got the short end of the stick, but here she was, feeling it anyway. She was blowing up like a balloon and according to Polleux, she wasn't even close to the size she would be and he looked fucking perfect. In fact, the day before the baby and the day after, he would look exactly the same. Maybe even better. But she was going to go through monumental changes, none of them pretty. Then there was the birth itself. She struggled with the bloody pictures she was painting in her head. Then there was the aftermath...

His hand enveloped hers. “This Polio guy know what he doin’.”

“But I don’t,” she wiped the hair off her face. She felt the ghost of sweat on her brow.

“You just do as he says,” he shrugged. The simplicity of Arthur's worldview! If only she could borrow it from time to time. 

She ran her palms over her face, rattled. 

“Baygal guy's wife has seven kids,” he offered. “Luther said he had eight siblings...”

“When did he say that?” she asked, surprised.

“When we was chattin’,” was his evasive answer. “Point bein’, you can do this."

She nodded, but with lack of conviction.

“Know what ‘m thinkin’?” A palm drew circles on her lower back. She hummed, her gaze still locked to the crib. “We should go to Valentine. Bath and laundry.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “We can afford that?”

“Sure,” he waved the question away. 

Being clean always made her happy, but her work days had been slashed and she didn't know how much Arthur had saved up, so she played down her enthusiasm. “I don’t know…it’s not exactly necessary...”

“Course it is," he huffed. "Ain't no way yer doin' laundry, so we gotta go for that anyway, might as well take a nice warm bath." 

"There are cheaper places for laundry in Saint Denis..."

"We got the money, Savigne," he rose to his feet. "'Sides, could get lucky with game on the way and make the money back. Go on, get dressed."

She dimly thought that letting Arthur take care of the money had been a mistake because she doubted that he was ever going to deny her anything. Nevertheless, the kite smoothly tilted upwards.

"Okay," she smiled. 

After she got dressed they sifted through the big basket of clothes the church had donated and picked out the ones that seemed to fit to take over with their own dirty laundry. A lot of it wasn't exactly items she would pick off a rack, most were cheap and old, the ones meant for her too big and most donated for Arthur too small, but they found pieces they can use and Abigail could adjust and added them to the basket. The rest they left for the Marstons to go through. Her mood changed when they left the cabin and she found the donation of kitchen utensils. Several baking trays and pots and pans - a little scratched and dented and in need of some seasoning, but sturdy and usable.

"I can make dinner tonight," she grinned. "We have everything we need."

"You feelin' up for that?" was his dubious question. She nodded, enthusiastic. He chuckled and helped her up the cart. "Fine. Up you go."

The day was chilly and breezy and she huddled into her coat and blew into her hands as the horses clopped on.

"Maybe it's me but it feels colder this year."

"It's you," he smiled. "You think on what to do after?" was the more somber question a while later. 

Given Arthur and John's infamy in these parts, staying was out of the question. "I know we're going to leave," she mused. "But I haven't seen enough of the country to know where. For example, I've never seen the desert."

"Desert? Ya mean like Texas?"

"I guess. Not sure what Texas looks like." 

"Y'aint never seen night sky till you been in the desert," he offered. "It's quiet. Open."

"How do you pick a place to go?"

"Reckon you just pick a direction and then you stop when ya like what yer seein'."

They rode through the Heartlands as she watched the jagged mountain line on the horizon. There had always been less travelers about on Sundays, especially outside of cities where most folks still took church attendance seriously, but winter had made the crowds even sparser. She thought about the months she rode through here alone and later with Arthur and grappled with the fact that everything had happened so quickly. Beginning of this year she had been a daring and naive fledgling who thought of nothing but her career. Single and free and ambitious. Now, after a number of tumultuous events, she was finishing the year as a wife and a mother, her career suddenly not the first and foremost thing on her mind when she rose out of bed. And next year she was going to be somewhere new to start all over. As happy as she was - and she was deliriously happy at times - it also made her sad. And scared. The speed and enormity of the events brought a certain feeling of whiplash with them. In the deep folds of her gut she feared that she had made too many impulsive choices and too quickly and she had closed off certain paths of possibilities forever. 

The kite dipped.

"Where yer head at?"

"I don't know..." she sighed as they drew closer to Valentine. "There's so many things I wanted to do. And now..." She left it at that.

"Ya speak as if you can't do them no more."

The kite spiraled downwards.

She shrugged. There was a shadow in her heart and she couldn't release it into the world. It felt wrong to express these feelings of disappointment to Arthur because she really wanted to be with him. But at the same time, she felt like she had been the only one who had made sacrifices. After all, he had lived a full life. He had traveled the country, free as a bird, experienced a million things and was eager to hang up his hat and do something different. She, on the other hand, had wasted years on training she would never use and would do nothing in life but plate food. 

When they entered the town limits, she placed the fake ring on her finger. Arthur gave her a look. "I don't want people to look at me weird," she explained, forestalling his arguments.

They stabled the cart and the horses and when she saw a familiar face behind the reception desk, the kite turned upwards again.

Bill's eyebrows shot all the way to his hairline as they walked in. "Well I'll be!" he prompted, visibly happy to see them. She sensed the same elation in him that she felt when she had spotted him behind the counter: the joy of familiarity, of finding some things unchanged among the upheavals of life. A new century was around the corner and America was flying into it full speed. Small villages were turning into towns overnight, and a week later you found a city where that sleepy town used to be. Even outside of big cities electric power lines were being raised and cars were spotted. It was a period of dizzying change that was leaving many bewildered and forlorn.

Bill was a professional and not once did the eyes that crawled over her bump stutter. "Welcome back,” was his warm addition as he fished for the key of the room with the big tub. He took the baskets with practiced economy. "Congratulations, sir," was his tilt of the head to Arthur whose chin went up.

"Why do men congratulate each other when it's the women who are doing all the work?" she muttered when they entered the room and Arthur locked the door.

He did his 'it is what it is' hand wave. After they undressed, he guided her into the tub and pulled her on his lap, and brushed a finger over the crinkle between her brows. "Ya upset cause of that crib?"

She looked down at her bump between them; this new thing, somehow both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. "I struggle with it..." she whispered, "...sometimes."

He kissed her, slow and long. "Gonna be fine. Everything's eventual, right?"

For no discernible reason, the kite caught an upslope flow and glided higher again. 

"Right," she smiled against his lips.      

Late afternoon they were back at the cabin and Savigne’s mood improved further as she cooked lasagna and pies in her new indoor oven. She hummed to herself, awash with contentment as she listened to the staccato of him chopping wood outside. When it was done, she told him to bring in the table the church had donated and place it next to theirs.

“Look over here,” she said as he was doing that. When he turned, she pointed to one tray - “This one is ours. ONLY this one.”

“Okay?” was his confused question. 

She pointed to the other tray. “Do NOT touch this one.”

He gave the second tray a slanted look. “Why that one bigger?”

“It’s not.”

“Is too.”

The kite shivered with the advent of a storm.

“It’s not," she growled. "But even if it was, there’s three of them, so that would still make sense.” He mumbled something under his breath but she ignored it. “I also made two pies, don’t touch the second one.”

“What 'bout leftovers?”  

She rolled her eyes, thinking 'as if'. “They can take it with them and eat it tomorrow.”

He muttered some more. 

She went and minutely adjusted the napkins and cutlery. “I made just as much as I always make, so you won’t go hungry, don’t worry.”

This time when he grumbled, she lost the thread on her patience and looked up. “What’s that?”

“‘M sayin’ I was starved in Guarma. Marston wasn’.”

“Arthur we’re hosts, we have to be generous, Jesus Christ!”

“Fine, but we get the bigger tray.”

“They’re the same size!”

“They ain’t. That one bigger.”

“Fuck’s sake!” She glared at him.

“‘M bigger, need more food,” he explained, rolling his shoulders.

She turned back to the counter to clean up. “There’s three of them, Arthur!”

Suddenly he embraced her from behind, a palm on her bump.“Three of us, too,” he grinned into her ear.

The kite angled upwards and her anger fell away.

“Do not touch the second tray,” she warned, half amused. “I made it so we can sit and eat like civilized people and you don’t spoil the evening by furiously trying to outeat John.”

“Fine,” he cooed into her neck before he kissed it. “Simmer down.”

Just then a knock on the door. He sighed and walked over to answer as she wiped her hands on her apron before she untied it and took it off. The Marstons filed in and Savigne grinned when she noticed that they had dressed up in their Sunday best. The parents looked a bit shy and nervous but Jack dashed towards her and pressed primroses into her hand.

The kite soared.

"Thank you! These are so nice! Welcome,” she smiled up to them, ridiculously happy to host dinner in her own cabin for the first time, feeling absurdly proud and grown up over it. “Please! Sit!”

A few days after that Sadie and Charles stopped by and informed Arthur that they had tracked Dutch, Bill and Javier north.

"He ain't goin' north," Arthur said. "He know we gonna go for that Blackwater money, he probably circled 'round."

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Charles agreed. 

"You think he means to ambush us after we get it?" was Sadie's question. 

"I know it."

"So what do we do?" John asked. "If we wait too long, he's gonna find someone to get it for him."

"Dutch?" scoffed Arthur. "He ain't gonna trust nobody to do that. He never even trust me to tell. No, he gonna wait for us to take it."

"So then...?"

Arthur thought on it a while. "We wait." John twitched a little at this but didn't say anything. "We go now, he gonna be ready," was Arthur's explanation. "He know we desperate, he thinkin' we gonna fly there first thing. But in a few months, he might slack off. Get tired. Might even think we slipped by and give up..."

"That's months without money for the gang," Sadie pointed out. "They ain't gonna like it."

"I don' like it either, but if he set a trap, could be no money ever and that ain't better."

"What do you think?" Sadie asked Charles.

Savigne watched him ruminate, Sadie’s eyes glued to him. They had grown quite close, these two; there was palpable trust and affection between them now. She didn’t think there was anything more than that but she wouldn’t be surprised if there would be, in time.

"I think Arthur is right. They're probably holed up somewhere. Let them suffer through the cold a little. Maybe their camaraderie won't survive the season." Charles offered at last.

The four of them thought on this for a while as the fire crackled in the hearth and Savigne refilled their coffees.

"Okay," Sadie sighed. "Gang ain't gonna be happy, but they wanna be mad, ‘m gonna remind them they should be mad at Dutch, not us." Her eyes glided to Savigne, mirthful. "'Sides...we got a wedding to attend to."

Two weeks after that Abigail called her over and surprised her with the curtains she had measured and trimmed to fit the cabin windows. Savigne had an emotional moment and cried and assured Jack that everything was okay and cried some more before she took the curtains and hurried over to the cabin, elated. She entered and stood stunned for a moment.

“Why did you dress up?!” 

He was brushing the lint off his shoulders in front of the mirror and looked immaculate in his fancy suit. Jealously flared in her at the sight of those broad shoulders that had filled back nicely again, the narrow hips and his flat stomach. 

“Ya forgot what Sunday is?”

“Of course I didn’t forget!” she said and closed the door.

“Then it should be obvious.”

“You can’t wear that!” she protested as she folded the curtains on the back of a chair. “I have nothing to match it! I’m going to look like the maid marrying the lord of the manor!”

He gave her a dry side eye. “I know you got a nice dress somewhere.”

“I outgrew everything I have! No…” she crossed her arms, “…you have to wear plain clothes.”

He glared at her through the mirror. “I ain’t wearing plain clothes. ‘M gettin' married.”

“Well I’m not standing next to…that,” she waved an arm at him. “Looking like I just came from field work.”

“Guess we gonna have to go shoppin’, ain’t we?” he said stubbornly. “Why ya haven’t yet, I don’ know, but we goin' now.”

“Or you can just dress down...”

“No.” He carefully peeled off his suit. “Get yer coat.”

“Why did you go spend money on-”

“You know god damn why.”

“It’s just some priest saying stuff,” she muttered.

He gave her a look. “How many times you got married? Cause this here is the only one for me, so...” His head jabbed towards her coat. “Go on.”

Savigne huffed and put on her coat. It required some navigating these days. She hadn’t thought Arthur was going to take it so damn seriously and dress up like it was a ball. “Nothing is going to fit me anyway, I’m enormous.”

“Yer barely showing,” he said, putting on his cowboy boots. 

“You should take Cricket with you and get him fitted. I’m about that size.”

“I worry ‘bout yer eyes, Savigne.”

“We can just buy a damn curtain and cut holes in it for my arms, would be cheap-” The slap on her buttocks made her jump. “Told you not to do that, god damn it!!”

He grinned and opened the door for her. “Wasn’ doin’ nothin'. Swung my arm, couldn’ avoid it.”

“It’s my belly that’s big, not my butt,” she hissed.

“Sure,” he looked away and bit his cheek, waiting for her to exit.

“You keep aggravating me, we’re going to end up at the doctors instead,” she muttered, heading towards the cart.

“Woman, waddle faster! Shop’s gonna close.”

“I fucking hate you.”

He pulled up at the dress shop and when she made to get off, held out his arm to stop her.

“‘M gonna go in first.”

“What? Why?”

“Need to see who’s doin’ the advisin’.” She gave him a confused look. “Since I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Ya grew up under a rock? Can’t see before the day of. Bad luck.”

“Since when are you so superstitious?”

“I ain’t. But a smart man takes no chances.”

“Please! It’s ridiculous.”

“Just sit here for a minute, won’ be long.”

“But…”

He pushed the reins into her hands and jumped off. “Don’ try to climb off by yerself, ya hear? You’ll roll all the way back home before me and Cricket can catch up.”

She opened her mouth to say something nasty but he disappeared through the door before she could.

He entered the shop and was relieved that there were no other customers. He walked up to the counter and the man behind it looked up, did a double take and paled so quickly, it was like someone had thrown white paint in his face. His step didn’t stutter but he cussed silently, thinking he was recognized. His mind spun off with panic, but when he spoke, his voice remained calm:

“Howdy. ‘Member me?”

The man opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a several long moments, then gave up and nodded instead.

Arthur inspected him a while. He didn’t remember this man at all so the likely theory was some old forgotten bounty poster. He scratched his beard to look nonchalant and glanced over his shoulder at Savigne who, surprisingly, for once was doing as told. 

“I ain’t so sure if you do,” he drawled. “Mind provin' it?”

The man’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down. “The train,” was the late choked whimper. 

“Be more specific, I ain’t got all day,” Arthur said roughly. 

“I…I was there...that night.” He fumbled for his handkerchief and hastily dabbed his brow with it. “Ice box.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes to hide his relief. This must be one of the kitchen staff. ‘Thank fuck’ he thought but outwardly just nodded and gave the man a long head to toe. It wasn’t ideal to be remembered as a train robber, but it was miles better than being recognized as Arthur Morgan who was supposed to be dead. 

“That’s right. What you doin’ here, you change careers?”

“I did,” was the whisper before he cleared his throat. “I thought…safer…to sell gowns.” The man exhaled a shuddering sob at the irony of it.

Arthur casually leaned on the counter. “My lucky day,” he said and smiled a toothy grin. The grin made a new wave of sweat break on the man’s brow which he hastily dabbed at.

“You got a name?”

“Lionel. Sir.”

If there ever was a name that don’t fit a man, Arthur thought. “Listen here, Lionel,” he drawled, immensely relieved at the turn of events and ready to take charge of the situation. He casually leaned back on the counter on one elbow, gesturing at Savigne with his free arm. “See that pretty lady?” The man nodded stiffly. “She with me. Gonna be my wife.” This seemed to surprise the store owner and Arthur’s gaze sharpened. “What? Ya sayin’ I can’t have a wife?”

“Absolutely not!” was the squeal. “I mean yes, yes, of course you can! Sir!” He dabbed his forehead some more. “I was just…surprised by her beauty!”

“You sayin’ she too pretty for me or somethin’?”

“No sir! I just-”

“I ain’t no god damn peg legged pirate,” Arthur growled, somewhat offended.

“Of course n-”

“Bag it! Like I said, ain’t got all day. She gonna come in here and buy a dress.”

The relief that washed over Lionel was so palpable that Arthur was momentarily tempted to glance over the counter to see if he had pissed himself. Obviously he had assumed that he was being robbed and had just now realized that Arthur was here as a customer. 

“Only here’s the thing...," Arthur added, "...she delicate.” The shop owner owlishly blinked at him with incomprehension. “Cause she’s with child,” Arthur clarified.

This shocked Lionel and he nearly flinched with the surprise. “Y-your child?” Then quickly: “Sir?”

“The hell ya sayin’!?” Arthur barked and was amazed how much paler a man could get.

“N-nothing!” cried the other man, voice breaking. 

“Of course my child! Ya sayin’ I can’t have a child!?”

“Absolutely you can, sir! You will sir! I was just…she barely shows was my meaning!!”

“See, that right there,” Arthur hummed, leaning closer as the man tilted back, “is exactly the attitude I want when she come in.” Lionel blinked again and Arthur sighed, exasperated. “'M gonna make this simple cause yer havin’ a slow day: she come in here and walk out upset cause ya have some dumb…opinions…” he spat the word with some venom, “… ‘bout her beein' with child but ain’t married yet, and you look at her wrong, or yer even more foolish and you say somethin’ of the sort…” he ignored the vehement head shake that Lionel was giving him, “…'m gonna come back and we gonna have us a little…reminiscin'…of our first meeting. Only this time y’ain’t gonna be a spectator. We clear?”

Lionel’s head bobbed up and down so fast, his hair lost the pomade. 

“Ya sure?!” Arthur roared.

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” His severe cry was even louder than Arthur’s boom and Savigne’s head turned towards them as she shifted around to see into the store.

“Good man,” Arthur drawled, giving him another long head to toe. “Now go change yer store sign.”

“Sir?”

“Ya seem smart enough, but I don’ want a dim-witted flock of women to come in here and look at her funny and upset my wife. Seein’ as it’s yer store, you’d be responsible for that,” he explained patiently.

Lionel scrambled from behind the counter, carefully gave Arthur a wide berth and flipped the sign to “closed”. Then he just stood there, dabbing his forehead. Arthur walked up to him and ignored his flinch when he reached out to smooth his jacket. “You advise her well, ya hear? Can’t do it m’self for obvious reasons.”

“Bad luck,” breathed the other man, standing stock still as Arthur patted his shoulders. 

“That’s right. So don’ insult my wife by sellin’ her somethin’ silly just cause ya didn’ wanna break out the good stuff.” A flurry of head bobs. “Also…” He glared into the man’s eyes long and deep to make his point, “…goes without saying…don’ mention the damn ice box.”

“Why, of course sir. Goes without saying.”

Arthur grunted in approval and exited the store to walk to Savigne’s side to hold up his hand.

“What were you doing in there so long? I need to go to the bathroom again, Jesus!”

“Ya damn near flooded the soil ‘round the outhouse with how much you piss, ground suckin m’boots in like it’s the Bayou.”

“Fucking liar!” she spat. 

“Any day now whole thing gonna sink into the lake o’piss growing under.”

“Give me your gun, I’m going to kill you!” She grabbed his hand and ambled down.

“Would if ya could shoot straight,” he growled. Then, softer: “‘M sure Lionel in there has a bathroom.”

She jerked her arm away and stomped to the door.

Arthur sat and smoked for a long while as he waited, hat tipping low every time a lawman strolled by. Finally she walked out, looking a lot calmer.

“It needs adjusting, we have to pick it up tomorrow,” she said as he came around to help her back up. “And he wouldn’t tell me how much it is so if we end up spending too much, I’m going to be mad.”

“Woman, ‘m the man and ‘m handling the damn money.”

She gave him a severe glare. “I think this whole thing is going to your head. You’re puffing up something awful.” She rolled her shoulders, mimicking his accent “Look at me, ‘m the manly man, big, burly, hairy man!”

“That’s right,” he countered, unfazed. “Finally learning, are we?” He walked towards the store door, ignoring her scowl.

“She’s a lovely lady, sir,” Lionel said, looking much recovered now that he was convinced that he wasn’t in mortal danger.

“Sure is.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…was the ice box for her? I remember your…colleague…umm…teasing you that day.”

“Was,” Arthur said, caught a little offguard by the question. Then he surprised himself by adding: “And he ain’t my colleague no more. I’m…retired.”

Lionel nodded and drew himself up a little. “The dress will be ready tomorrow by noon.”

“Now listen here,” Arthur stepped to the counter. “‘M retired but I ain’t stupid. ‘M gonna come pick it up myself. Not that I don’ trust ya, Lionel, but ‘m gonna tell my brother where ‘m goin’. So if I walk in here and I find a buncha lawmen waiting, he can come visit you after. ‘M sure you understand why I’d be pissed to go to jail and leave my wife in her state.”

“Goes without saying. And…congratulations, sir.”

Arthur nodded and turned to leave before he paused. “I like yer shop. Yer good at this, stick with it,” he said over his shoulder before he walked out the door.

“Can we go home now? I have to use the bathroom.”

“The hell? Told ya to go in there.”

“I did.”

“Then go again.”

“No way I’m going twice,” she hissed. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Where does it all even come from?” he grumbled, clicking his tongue at Cricket. “Ya climbin’ down the well when I go to sleep?”

Savigne exploded into laughter and it quickly turned into sobs. She pulled out a handkerchief, wiping at her eyes, manically cackling and crying at the same time.

“Calm down, Christ,” he said gruffly, giving her a sidelong glance as he navigated the cart through the crowded streets. “Was just jokin’. I know ya won’ fit through the rim.”

“Just stop,” she laughed, wiping her tears. “You’re going to make me pee.”

“Think long and hard how ya gonna explain that to Bill when droppin’ off yer laundry on Sunday.”

“Oh my god!” she wailed. “Bill doesn’t go through my laundry, you sick man!”

“Ya sure ‘bout that?” he drawled.

“Of course I’m sure,” she said but the slight hesitation before she said it made him grin.

“Pretty little thing like you come in…” he shrugged, “I would wanna know what she wearin’ under them skirts.” She gave him a shocked look and crimson shot up her face.

“Jesus, yer face suckin’ up all yer blood like that, grub needs some o’that too, ya know.”

She wailed again, covering her face. “Go faster, I’m going to burst.”

“Just hold on, I know a graveyard close by if ya really gotta go.”

“I fucking hate you!” she yowled between her sobs.

When they arrived she ran to the outhouse and afterwards walked through the cabin door, sighing with relief. “God, I feel like I worked all day and all I did was sit on a horse cart and listen to your bullshit.”

“Did ya like yer dress?” he asked from behind her, helping her take her coat off and hanging it up.

“Yeah. Lionel was really nice.”

He hummed dismissively and embraced her shoulders from behind before she can walk away, hands caressing her shoulders, then gliding across her belly.

“Is it easy to peel off?”

“No.”

His hands gathered her skirts, fingers bunching them up slowly as he nipped her ear. “Is it easy to lift?”

“It’s a dress,” she shuddered. “Of couse it’s easy to lift. Why?”

His warm palms dived under the hem of her chemise and traveled over her belly, then crawled to the waistband of her bloomers.

“Might wanna drag you away for a bit if ya look too fine,” he whispered and kissed her neck.

“Don’t even think about it,” Savigne chuckled and squirmed against him.

“‘M thinking about it,” he said and kissed her jawline.

She moaned and dropped her head against his shoulder, mumbled under her breath. He could hear the shiver of lust in her voice and it hardened his cock. He marveled about the fool who had lived twenty years thinking he was living the good life, drifting around to pitch a tent in blizzards and heatwaves, eating slop and drinking his nights away, pitying folks who lived as he did now. He dimly wondered where that man was now, what sad location he was camped, if he was sitting alone on a cot and drawing in his journal. Or maybe right about now that fool was bleeding out in a desolate corner, lying in the muck, clutching at the highlights of his wasted life.

He walked her forward to brace against the counter as his hand worked on the buttons of his trousers. His breath hitched with excitement, the last vestiges of his blood circled out of his head and pooled into his gut and all thoughts of that man vanished like smoke.

Luther ambled into the dark room, lit a lantern, lit his cigarette with the same match, locked the door behind himself. He stepped to the little counter in the corner and pulled out a bowl, took out the package from his jacket pocket, cut down the slab of meat into cubes and emptied it into the bowl. Then he trudged over to the window and cracked it open and put the bowl to the low desk in front of it while he settled into his rocking chair. It creaked under his weight but held, and soon he made himself comfortable in the chair that had adjusted to all his curves over the many years he had been using it. The cool Saint Denis air wafted through the window. He didn’t have to wait long.

"Welcome, Bartholomew," he said gruffly as the dirty tabby slithered through the opening and settled on the desk to eat his dinner. "Yer fillin' up nice and proper, ain't ya?" he said. Bartholomew acknowledged him with his one eye for a moment. Then he turned around to the bowl. His ear with the tip bit off dipped in and out as he ate with silent enthusiasm.

"Was at a wedding, case yer curious," Luther drawled, watching his cigarette smoke unfurl in the small room, wavering with the breeze that licked through the opening. He loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt. "Was mighty nice, tell ya that."

The cat gave him a dismissive glance over his shoulder and went on eating. 

"Fine, I'll tell ya," Luther grumbled and sat up to open the drawer of the desk to retrieve a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. The cat, used to this ritual, didn't acknowledge it. A pair of voices argued under the window, then came a smack of laughter, then they argued on, growing fainter as they walked away.

"First off, had my pal Gregory pick me up. Ya ‘member Gregory? He the one who rents his tent for fairs and circuses. Busy man this time of year, but I tol' him 'm collectin' my favor, so he came. Drove me to the cabin, yappin' all the way there. I don' mind - Gregory and I don' run into each other much, so was fine to listen. We got there early and as we came closer, big guy came out, shoulders all hiked, gun belt on his hip. He relax when he see us and held up a hand in greetin'.” Luther’s eyes narrowed as he punctuated with his cigarette hand: “I approve of this man's suspicious nature, Bartholomew. He weathered, like youse, ain’t trustin’ and that a good thing. Too much trust is a dangerous thing. Anyhow…he came to meet us and I tol' him we gonna erect a big tent for the guests and he blinked like 'm speakin' French.”

“‘A tent?' he says.”

“‘A tent,' I says. 'Nice and cozy so guests don' freeze and run off first thing after food.'”

“‘How many guests you cobble up, old man?' he ask, wary.”

“‘Just a few,' says I. I know he worried one or two will talk to the Law after, tell 'em who he is, where he is, but I assure him everyone invited is likely to flee in the other direction of the Law if they spot’em.”

“Then I go in and Savigne come hug me. She all jittery and anxious like a child. I say ‘Woman, stop jumpin' like a hare, you gonna have the child here and now!’.”

“She laugh at this like it's the funniest thing she heard and offer me coffee. She happy, Bartholomew. When you live as long as I, little things is where it’s at, so seein' her healthy and happy like that swells my heart. I known long time this man the right man for her.” The cat finished his meal and gave him another look over his shoulder before he dived back in to lick the remnants.

“Nah,” Luther waved as if Bartholomew had spoken, “Yer wrong. Sure, he an outlaw, sure he done bad things. But I been 'round and lemme tell ya, many fine men done worse. This man cut of old cloth. He ain’t gonna stray and he ain’t gonna betray her. He never gonna hurt her. That counts for somethin’.” He sipped his whiskey.

“I say ‘Call yer brother, let's set up the tent’. People roll in just ‘bout then and they help, takes us no time. Then the pastor arrive and Arthur and me walk to Marston's tent so he can change. Did I tell ya this man has a woman and a child? Woman pretty as a daisy and the boy cute as a button.” He scoffed to himself. “Lucky fool.”

“Anyhow, guests bring in food and deck that long table like a buffet. Told’em ain’t no need for gifts, but they bring a little somethin’ cause poor folk is generous folk. They bring a jar of pickles, a sweater, someone brought an old guitar, another his only other pair of shoes…I gave Savigne my mother’s cookbook. She never learned her letters, my mom, and I learned mine late, but I wrote it as I ‘member it. I ain’t gonna use it, ‘m glad she got somethin’ of mine.”

The tabby sat around to face him and began to groom itself. “I know, I know, ‘m gettin’ there. So time comes and we waitin’ with the pastor. I know this Arthur has nerves of steel, seen how he was with Ecco. But now he twitchin’ and shiftin’ like a boy, pullin’ on his jacket, fidgetin’ with his tie.” Luther rumbled a deep laugh and sipped his whiskey. “I look over at Missus Adler and she grin at me…” He sighed and gently slapped his knee and the cat watched him with that sparkly one eye. “Tell ya what - I was younger, that woman would crush my heart. Anyhow…”

He sighed and put out his cigarette and the tabby immediately jumped up into his lap and curled on the big cushion of his stomach. “Out comes my girl and lemme tell ya, she look like a cool drop of water, pure and precious.” He ran a large hand over Bartholomew as the cat purred and quietly drank his whiskey for a while. “I never had no children, but you wouldn’ known it today, all ‘m gonna say. I knew she was shy cause she was in a sea of new faces, but she didn’ stumble and didn’ freeze, she walked over all proper and made me proud. Was worried more for Arthur than her,” he chuckled to himself as he scratched behind an orange ear.

He raised a finger. “‘Cept when the ring came out, then her eyes brimmed and she twitched a little and her hand shook.” Another earthquake of a chuckle trembled through him. "She jump to kiss him 'fore the pastor was done say his bit, tell ya that!" he laughed.

His laughter wheezed into silence. He pondered on getting undressed and closing the window and going to bed, but he didn’t sleep much these days and the tabby was comfortably purring in his sleep, so he sat on and listened to the city sliding into silence little by little. He thought that in these late hours, years turned into paper walls and you could hear the past murmur through if you put your ear against them. It used to bother him when he was younger, but the older he got, the more he grew to like it. 

“‘M thinkin’,” he grumbled at long last, “Might be I helped a little, ya agree, Bartholomew? Might be...I fixed it. Took a long god damn time, but think I fixed it. Maybe just a little.”

He sat there a long time as the church bells rang the hours while the tabby slept on him and Saint Denis slept around him.

[hundredandsix]

✩ camp counselor au? ✩

✩ So...what do we think about a camp counselor au with Ellie? Except let's make it a Christian camp because I need my religious trauma to be useful for something.

✩ Maybe she's about to graduate, but her program requires volunteer hours, so she signs up to be a counselor at the camp and is honestly really pissed about it. But then she gets paired with you. She thinks you're this stuck-up, church-obsessed girl, but she doesn't know that your parents made you go and you hate it just as much as her.

✩ I can totally imagine her unintentionally ruining one of those dumb purity demonstrations. Like the teacher has someone lick a cupcake and then asks everyone in the room if they would eat it. It's supposed to demonstrate how "unpure" things are "undesirable," but Ellie is just so bored and wasn't paying attention. So she volunteers to eat the cupcake and doesn't understand why everyone is so taken aback.

✩ Imagine her telling stories to the kids around the campfire. She doesn't think they're that scary, but she ends up facing your wrath after three kids wake you up in the middle of the night from nightmares.

✩ Maybe a kid is acting up, and instead of accepting the consequence she gave him, he says that "a demon must have been inside of him" to try and get out of it. Ellie just stares at him because none of the training she did prepared her for that response.

✩ Her coming up with the most creative ways to discourage PDA.

✩ And of course, sneaking around with her because the stakes are even higher at this camp. Will this just be a summer fling or will you stay in touch?

I might write something full-length for this. Any ideas?

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 2: Toccoa, Georgia (The Prophecy)—A Band of Brothers Fanfic

A/N: I am so so so so SO sorry this is out late. This past week was super hectic! I hope that you really enjoy the chapter. I did my best to make it my own and different from other beginnings of BoB that I've seen, so you'll have to let me know what you think! Also, as a side note—I did, in fact, live in Toccoa area for 13 weeks a couple years back, so I actually do love that place!

Winnie could say that she had never been to Toccoa Georgia for any reason in her short lifetime and would probably have no desire to ever return. Though there wasn’t any snow on the ground here, it was just as gloomy as the rest of Georgia was in the winter months.  Everywhere she looked, there were men in uniforms and people bustling towards the wartime factories that had popped up.  

Her arrival at Camp Toccoa was a rather quiet affair, and so there she sat in a wooden chair inside a small waiting area.  Occasionally, Winnie glanced over at the precipitation building on the windows.  When she was a kid, she had long periods of waiting like this one—where her father was in jail or at some bar and she would just wait for him to come back home. 

It would usually rain—and considering how the weather in Georgia changed as quickly as a summer breeze, Winnie had taken to counting droplets of water as a way to keep her focus on something that she could control. 

The simple fact of the matter was that Winnie had precious little control over a lot of the circumstances in her life.  But the things that she did have control over, she kept those things close to her chest; clung to them like they were her most precious possessions and no one would ever come close enough to take that freedom of control away from her again. 

She clicked her heeled shoes together exactly once, eyes straying to the scuff marks on her simple church shoes.  She wondered how her brothers were all faring in their training at the moment.  If they were all coping with the reality of what war would be—if they were prepared to go and be on their own. 

Richie wasn’t the one she was worried about.  He was two years younger than her and was always rather serious.  He worked harder than anyone else that she knew and wasn’t one to get distracted by a pretty face or lofty promises.  Any day now, he’d be shipping out to go to the Pacific as a Marine and it made her truthfully want to follow him all the way down there and have his back with a gun herself.  

They were Allens.  And they trusted themselves and one another.  No one else outside of their circle of siblings had proven to be someone that they would trust their lives with.  But Winnie knew that they would never allow a doctor—and a female one, at that—to go down to the Pacific and be a part of the carnage and horrors there. 

Robbie was in the same boat, proverbially speaking of course, as Richie.  Set to go to the Pacific in a few weeks.  He was always so quiet and watchful.  Winnie hoped that it would serve him well to be on his guard and pick up on the things that the other soldiers wouldn't notice.  They had yelled a lot back and forth before he had enlisted—she had told him to finish his degree and go into the JAG-Corp.  He had told her to go to hell—which he had tearfully apologized for when she dropped him off at the train station.  

Winnie stretched out her fingers over her lap, letting out a breath.  It had been nearly thirty minutes of waiting to be allowed to see the Colonel—and this was just for him to review her application to join the Paratroopers as a Doctor and training officer for his medics.  She wished that the level of urgency the war truly had would transfer over to her wait time. 

Because if she needed to haul everything back to Buford, Winnie would almost certainly rather pick up and move to the Carolinas and try to sign up for a different branch of the military that would, in fact, utilize her. She hated being idle—hated being alone, even more than that.  

The younger three boys were the ones that needed supervision—needed all the prayers of the good congregation of Buford’s Christian Non-Denominational Church.  Nathan was the first problem in Winnie’s pleas to God.  That boy had been raised wolf-wild by herself and Richie and Robbie.  They hadn’t been much, but they had had each other.  He was always picking a fight with an older boy—and she could only hope that this whole army experience was going to straighten him out.   

Then there was Joshua, also set to end up in the Pacific as a medic.  That had granted her a degree of peace, knowing that his evenings helping her study for school were going to come in handy where he was going.  It might, in fact, just be the thing that ends up saving his life.  

But Charlie? Charlie was, in every sense of the word, hers.  She had raised him from the time of his infancy and so to Winnie Allen, Charlie was her child.  Currently, he was in Texas and Winnie had never been more grateful for the fact that the Air Force programs were long.  She would take those 9 months like a sacred gift from God that he wouldn’t be anywhere near the fighting—at least for a short while. 

And then there was her.  Just her—with no idea where she’d end up, with no clue what her side of the war would entail.  Which of course, would be typical of her life thus far. 

Just then, the door opened and a man stepped inside, clipboard in hand.  “Dr. Allen?” 

“That’d be me,” Winnie said, rising to her feet. 

The man piqued an eyebrow, but said nothing about the fact that she was a woman.  He just let out a weary sigh and gestured towards the door with his head.  “If you’d follow me, ma’am.” 

Of course, a moment ago she was Doctor, and now she was ma’am.  God, she loathed the South.  

Winnie obliged, following after the man with quick steps.  As they crossed out of the building and onto a dirt path, Winnie caught sight of some of the trainees—some of them in the field and doing jumping jacks in the field, some of them running towards a trail through the trees.  There weren’t too many of them at the moment, but that didn’t deter Winnie in any way. 

“Are these the officers that are in training?” Winnie questioned, speeding up her stride to match the man in front of her. 

He let out an annoyed breath.  “You catch on quick.  Sink will like that.  Though I can’t account for how he’ll feel about a woman applying to train our medics.” 

“I’m a trauma surgeon and doctor.  I think my credentials speak for themselves,” Winnie retorted dryly. 

No response from the officer this time, just a huff of air as he came to a stop in front of one of the buildings on the camp.  “Wait here, please.” 

Winnie just crossed her arms and waited patiently, inhaling the cool air.  Not even thirty seconds later, the man had returned and gestured for her to enter the room.  Winnie was grateful for the slight reprieve from the cold air as she entered the room.  And there, sitting in a chair and smoking a cigar, was Colonel Sink. 

“If you’d please take a seat, Doctor Allen,” he gestured at the seat across from his desk with his cigar.  Usually quick to follow orders, Winnie slid into the seat, looking at Colonel Sink expectantly.  It was another moment of silence before Colonel Sink set down his cigar and fully looked at her.  “I’ll be honest, we don’t see too many female doctors come through the military.” 

“I expect you’d see more nurses, sir.” 

“Damn right, we do,” Sink stated.  “This whole war—unpleasant business, not really meant for women.” 

“If I can speak freely, sir?” 

“I’d be appreciative of the honesty, if you did.” 

“You’re right, it’s unpleasant.  But those women are still going to bury husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers.  It affects them just as much as it does the men.” 

“I can’t say I disagree.  Your point?” 

“I’m not a married woman.  I’m a trauma surgeon and head of the trauma department in Buford General.  I was the top of my class and as it so happens, I don’t have any children or brothers—they’re all off in training to fight in this war.  I don’t particularly like sitting on my ass or fancy myself a factory worker.  But I can help you train damn good medics, sir.” 

Sink stared at her for a long time.  His gaze reminded her a lot of her mentor’s, from back in college.  He was always trying to figure out her angles too.  Trying to figure out if she was as good as she claimed to be. 

“I’ll be honest with you, Allen.  We’ve got hundreds—thousands—of men coming in the next few months to train to be paratroopers.  Now I want them to be the best of the best.  And if I want them to survive more than five minutes over there, then that means I also need the best of the best doctors to train my medics.  So I’ll concede to your point.  Your application was good—I’m a self-made man myself and I respect that work.” 

“Sir?” 

“But I’ll also be honest with you.  This isn’t going to be pretty.  It’s going to be bloody and long and tiring.  This isn’t the type of place where you can just escape from whatever life you don’t want to live.  At some point, you might be elbows deep in some man’s guts and I need someone unflinching.” 

“October 27th.” 

“Pardon?” 

Winnie shifted in her seat, leaning forward.  “October 27th, a man and his two daughters are brought into Buford General.  Automobile accident.  The man flung his arm in front of his daughter sitting in the passenger seat.  His arm was hanging by a few strands of muscles and he was going to bleed out.  Now the daughter in the passenger seat got impaled by a fence post—it went straight through her stomach.  The daughter in the back was flung through the car and landed 15 feet ahead.” 

“That’s both gruesome and tragic.   Your point being?” 

“I was the surgeon on call that night.  I triaged.  I assessed.  I delegated.  The father lost his arm but he kept his life.  The daughter who flew through the car wasn’t going to make it.  She was 11.  We were short-handed and I had to tell the nurse assisting me that the little girl wasn’t going to make it and that she needed to focus on the other one.  So she did.  We lost the one—but she was mostly gone by the time she had arrived,” Winnie stated.  “My point here is that I can give your men skills that they won’t get anywhere otherwise.  Real life experience teaching practical application of the skills.  Triaging, assessing, not hesitating in doing the work and saving lives.” 

Sink leaned forward in his seat.  “You’d be hard on them?” 

“I’d be brutal. Because that is exactly what they are going to face out there.” 

“You be the hard-ass doctor that trains my medics, then.  But if you’re gonna be here, then you’re gonna train like my men train.” 

“I’m not a fragile southern belle like Melanie Hamilton, sir.” 

“No, I imagine you’re not.  I’ll give you two nurses to assist with actual injuries on base—and based on performance, you and them might just end up traveling with us wherever we end up.” 

“Sir?” 

“What?” 

“Thank you for letting me advocate my case.  I won’t let you down.” 

“You sure as hell better not.  Or lots of good men are going to die and that’s going to be on your shoulders.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within the first hour of being there, Winnie had selected her nurses from the pile of applications.  It hadn’t been that hard of a choice to begin with—some were just practical eliminations, and the rest were a careful read-through of letters they had sent in along with the application.  

Reba Garrett and Eileen Gray were the two chosen candidates that she had landed on.  Reba was from New England and had been working as a nurse for well over five years now, placing her as one of the older and more experienced women applying for the position.  But it wasn’t her experience that attracted Winnie’s attention—it was the letter, and the way in which she described wanting to do some real good in the war and that started with saving lives rather than ending them. 

That sounded exactly like the type of person that Winnie wanted to have on her side.  

Eileen, on the other hand, was from Savannah, Georgia.  While her experience time of only two years wasn’t quite as well-established as Reba’s was, it was the picture that she had included of her brother that caught Winnie’s attention.  Eileen’s brother had been stationed in Pearl and he had been one of the many men to be immortalized under the ocean there. 

That gave her motivation, it gave her righteous anger—and in Winnie’s eyes, it was exactly the sort of thing that God would do—place Eileen in her path to ensure that justice was seen. 

So Winnie penned her first letters to the two women that would soon be joining her here in Toccoa.  And then she took those resumes straight to Colonel Sink—who wholeheartedly approved of the decision, though it was made in haste.  Just another reason for him to see her as a capable doctor—as someone he could trust. 

And in two weeks time, Eileen Gray and Reba Garrett would be joining her at Camp Toccoa.  In the meantime though, Winnie’s own training was set to begin.  And she’d be damned if she let herself be torn down by any man—her superior officer or not.  She was determined to earn her place amongst the men here—and earn their respect.  Consequences be damned.