#sorry i just get tired of people being like this

[bluem1lls]

Hi! Could you do a fluff Se-mi one shot? Unfortunately I don’t really have any prompt to give you but I think a out of squid game AU would be pretty cool! Like it could be when they first met, or first date sm like that!

I would really appreciate it if you write it, but if not that’s absolutely fine! I hope you have an amazing day! <3

headcanons gf! se-mi

✦ synopsis: never let your annoying best friends to stop you from finding your girlfriend!

tw: a bit of nsfw

authors note: hiii im sorry for the no update, work is killing me but here's this! i hope u like it💓 tysm for the requests!

-> se-mi, who you've met because of a close friends hangout.

"would it be okay if i bring se-mi?" min su asked as i passed the joint to thanos.

"is she cute?" nam gyu asked.

"she's a lesbian" min-su answered with a chuckle.

"oh?" i said as i pay more attention to the conversation.

"she's probably not your type tho, you're so picky" min su said rolling his eyes as i scoffed.

-> se-mi, who was totally your type.

when you two met, you bonded immediately, laughing and smoking together as the other three were sitting on the couch staring.

"what about us man? when it's our turn?" nam-gyu said, watching as she said something that made you blush.

thanos and min su shook their head as they kept smoking.

"i bet i can drink more than you" she said as you laughed. "wanna bet?" she said with a smirk. "if i win, i get your number"

no need. two shots in and you were giving her your number no matter what.

-> se-mi, who texted you while you were passed out on nam gyu's bed as he was sprawled on the floor with thanos's arm around him.

you tried to find your phone, lowering the brightness as you grabbed it while your head throbbed.

pretty girl w the piercings: hi

pretty girl w the piercings: maybe its too soon but would you like to have dinner tonight? we can do something chill :)

-> se-mi, who has you waking up thanos and nam gyu with screams of happiness.

"who died?!" nam-gyu opened his eyes wide.

"min-su?! my boy?" thanos asks, alarmed

"se-mi texted me! she wants to hang out tonight! it's a date!" i said getting up the bed to quickly shower.

"this can't happen anymore bro. she needs to stop getting drunk and sleeping in your room" thanos says to nam gyu as he throws himself into his bed and covers himself with the blankets.

nam gyu blinks. two people already slept in his bed, none of those being him. he sighs as he goes into thanos's room to sleep some more.

"for fucks sakes" he mumbles.

-> se-mi, who's soon arriving to your house.

"i need you two idiots out of here tonight" you said, putting your earrings on and brushing your hair as they stared.

thanos winked as he grabbed his phone to call someone. "we're on our way" i could hear min-su over the phone screaming to thanos, alarmed, because he was on a family reunion. "we're your family too boy! be there in 20" he said, hanging up.

well. they're min-su's problem now.

-> se-mi, who stood there in all back, as she played with her lip piercing, smirking and looking up and down as you open the door.

"hi!"

"hey pretty" she said, as you moved aside, letting her in.

"we're just leaving" she got in as the guys got out, giving a quick head nod to her.

"get laid" thanos shouted from outside.

"she needs it" nam-gyu followed him.

of course you stood there all blushy as she chuckled.

you'll kill them later.

-> se-mi, who brought everything you told her you liked! a horror movie, your favorite snacks, diet coke and ice cream as dessert.

"it's this is okay? maybe i should've bought more things. now i'm nervous maybe it's time for a smoke break-" she rambles too much. you don't give her time to think as you cup her face and kiss her. her eyes widen in surprise but she quickly melts into it.

-> se-mi, who's quickly stopping the makeout sesh to turn on some 'cigarettes after sex' on the speaker.

-> se-mi, who starts hanging out more with the boys and talks a lot about you.

-like a lot. nam-gyu is tired. he has to see you at home and now hear about you??

-> se-mi, who loves chill dates with you, like staying at home and watching some movie.

-> se-mi, who has to get used to the guys because half of the dates probably include them bc they feel left out:(

its like you two are mothers going out with three kids. three very dumb kids (26 year old adults). but you love them and se-mi learns to love them too .. kind of. give her time.

-> se-mi, who not even two months in she's decoring your room with your favorite flowers and a sign that says 'would you let me be your girlfriend?' you kiss her until your lips go numb.

-> gf!se-mi who doesn't know how to keep her hands out of you. her hands on your hips, hugging you from behind, circles on your waist, underneath your shirt.

-> gf!se-mi who loves playing video games. she's SO happy when she finds out you don't actually like playing but you like watching. she buys all your favorite games and plays them all for you

"BABY, TURN RIGHT. I'VE WATCHED THIS 20 TIMES, GO RIGHT" you shout at her.

"do you wANNA PLAY?" she replies, getting exasperated trying to follow your indications.

you pout as you shook your head.

she loves this. wouldn't trade it for the world.

-> gf!se-mi who loves taking you shopping to the mall. clearly for the lingerie stores. probably ends up fingering you in there.

she buys anything you like, baby is poor but she tries SO hard for her girl:(

you're pointing at a plushie?? it's yours.

clothes u like? she knows your size, it's yours.

-> gf!se-mi who discovered your music tastes are so different that she can't believe she's listening to taylor swift and olivia rodrigo songs to learn them for you. she's incredibly down bad.

-> gf!se-mi who gets you a necklace with her initial

"for: baby

it's not because i own you, but because i really know you :)"

-> gf!se-mi who gets SO nervous when you wanna introduce her to ur parents. and she's so happy when they approved her.

-> gf!se-mi that is SOO smart, everytime she helps u study you're moaning.

-> gf!se-mi that's not studying for now, just working. but you are.

and when she sees you burned out? oh she's the first one to be there helping.

"baby, you've been studying for hours, let's take a break"

"i can't sem. my parents-"

"okay okay, let's go through the flashcards again and we'll take a nap, how does that sound?"

-> gf!se-mi that is there when you get a 87 and not a 100. and you're crying about what your parents are going to say while she caress your hair and kisses you.

"we'll start again in a bit if you want to, but for now let it out princess" she kisses your temple.

-> gf!se-mi who everyone stares when she takes you to campus. but she has no idea, she's just looking at you.

-> gf!se-mi who's a fuckgirl in recovery tho..

like the idea of cheating does not cross her mind. but sometimes she smiles. too much.

and maybe some girl is winking at her because god you have a HOT girlfriend.

and she just turns to you, smirking.

"did u see that babe? i haven't lost my charm ;)" she says as you scoff in disbelief. you two end up making out until her brain is too fuzzy to remember what she told you.

"just wanted her to see that you're mine" you say as you clean up any of your messed up lipstick.

her boxers are wet. sticky and wet.

and if someone you know is frequently flirting with her? next time they'll see her, she has three big bruised spots on her neck, and she's SO happy.

one time she had a little admirer at her job who went to see her like three times a week.

baby: she's here!!!!!!!!!!!

me: who???

me: wait.. stalker??

baby: mhm.

and when you leave her on seen, she frowns. she scans everything this girl is taking as she feels her phone vibrating. she checks her messages and oh! it's you!

two photos. one of you in her favorite red lingerie and the second one, you moving aside those pretty panties to send your bare pussy.

she's drooling. and her brain is pretty much broken.

"i-m-m sorry" she stutters to the girl in front of her, who frowns. "min-su cover for me! i'll stay tomorrow" se-mi screams at him and smiles at the girl who looks like her heart got crushed.

-> gf!se-mi who also gets jealous easily. match made in heaven!

give her two seconds before she's eyeing up and down with a cold stare to anyone who's talking to you. her hands grip your waist as they start to roam over your body, she leaves a wet neck kiss as she gets close to your ear.

"bathroom. right now. or you wanna show them you're only my whore? because i'll fuck you right here and i'll make them watch" she whispers on your ear while you're talking, making you shiver.

yeah forget the chat, it wasn't that interesting anyways.

-> gf!se-mi that spends every sundays with you

lazy days, laying in bed hugging and kissing eachother, picking two books out of your book shelf to read for a while. if it's raining?? movie, take out food and a nap.

she just wants to be with you, does not care about anything else.

-> gf!se-mi that if you're into romantic stuff, she's doing her best for her girl. sometimes she forgets tbh but there it is min-su to remind her!

se-mi: 😭 she's mad at me

min-su: it's flower day. according to tik tok, girl's wanna receive a yellow bouquet

se-mi: you're my second favorite person.

and she's at your door 30 minutes after you got mad with a yellow bouquet, smiling behind it.

she really tries.

-> gf!se-mi who knows how to draw so well, she actually draws a bouquet of ur favorite flowers to give u every month.

-> gf!se-mi who finds tik toks about kitties and sends them to you.

you open tik tok once again as you see a new video sent by your girlfriend. is a black cat licking a white cat with a pink bow

semisucks: das us:)

-> gf!se-mi who loves when you do skincare on her but she already has a pretty spotless face. although she uses hand soup to wash her face

-> gf!se-mi who never stopped flirting with you, she has to keep her girl

" you look so good tonight, you're lucky i have a wife or ill be taking you to bed real fast" she says winking as you roll your eyes.

-> gf!se-mi that after two years of dating, wants to move with you.

"you didnt ask for our consent" thanos says, shooking his head no as you both tell them the news.

"you steal our best friend and now you want her to move? that's not happening" nam gyu agrees with him.

you stare at the three of them who are fighting about you like little kids.

"well, i guess its time to bring the second choice" i say to se-mi as she places her head on the table as she mumbles 'fuck'

"she moves here" i say, staring at those two as they stare at eachother.

"fine. but no moaning" thanos says as nam gyu nods.

-> gf!se-mi who hates her birthday, except this year, when you throw her a mini surprise party with nam-gyu, thanos and min-su.

-> gf!se-mi who can't cook... please don't make her.

-> gf!se-mi who protects you and puts you on top of anything.

you're her girl after all.

nsfw hc!

-> gf!se-mi who has an obsession with your tits, when youre riding her? shes having a blast seeing your tits bounce

-> gf!se-mi who fucks u in public places. 100%

-> gf!se-mi who has a broken brain when she sees you with a new lingerie set.

-> gf!se-mi who has a black strap. and god she knows how to use it

-> gf!se-mi who didn't do it right if you're not crying and trembling by the end of the night.

-> gf!se-mi who loves quickies. everytime you two are about to go out you're suddenly 15 minutes late because you just looked so cute in that oufit, that she had to eat you out.

-> gf!se-mi who quiets her whimpers everytime you're eating her out while she's playing with the guys.

"are you okay? focus dip shit" nam-gyu says to her.

she's on her chair, completely flustered and out of breath, biting her lips while you're swirling around her clit.

"i'm- i'm fine" she sttuters as she quickly mutters the mic, her hand grabs your hair. "right there princess"

-> gf!se-mi who loves to hear you while she fucks you. if you're not screaming she's not happy.

-> gf!se-mi that gets extremely frustrated when you tease her in public.

it's okay, she'll make you her slut when you're back home<3

[genderqueerdykes]

I am a trans man who abandoned my previous account because i needed to leave the community.

The trauma and self hatred runs so deep that despite it being months i still can't think of my masculinity as anything other than wrong. Not just that, but leaving made me happier. Not having community made me happier. Think about that.

At least now I can see i deserve better. But it's hard knowing that my love and support was so summarily rejected by the transfems on this site.

i'm really sorry you've had to go through this, anon. you shouldn't have to do that

the thing is people don't realize that while this online fighting is pointless, it does hurt people. and it can cause genuine trauma because it IS abuse. abuse doesn't have to occur in person to be legitimate. a lot of acts of abuse and violence can be committed remotely with modern technology. basically anywhere people can interact, abuse can happen. this is actually hurting and scarring people in real ways and we need to acknowledge this

Not just that, but leaving made me happier. Not having community made me happier. Think about that.

the fucked up thing is i feel the exact same way. i interact with community on here in order to educate but outside of this, i currently do not interact with the queer community. once im off this blog, i'm not really interacting with queer community, i will talk to my queer friends and engage in my own queerness, but i am not thinking about the community for the vast majority of my day. i'm not interested in trying to casually go to a trans space and be misgendered all the time.

i immersed myself in my local punk community last year and all that happened to me was that i got a lot of hollow compliments, condescended to, talked over, fetishized, treated as a sex object, descriminated against, had people stop respecting me the instant they found out i was a trans man, had people try to tranny chase me for being a trans man with a vagina, got called too whiny and emotional, got accused of hating trans women because i'm a transmasc lesbian, got mocked for not having a penis, watched my roommate treat me with annoyance that wasn't there prior, felt alienated in my own home, and just in general felt ashamed that i wasn't an amab trans woman, because those were the only trans people who hung out there for any substantial amount of time

the transmascs and trans men never hung around for too long. the majority of the trans punks who showed up were transfem. like. almost all of them. it was rare to find another transmasc, and i can work a crowd, i don't feel scared or uncomfortable in crowds, so i will talk to just about anyone who acknowledges my presence. i met so many transfem punks that i've lost count, and about 3 or 4 transmascs. it frustrated me and took a while for me to realize why. that place was deeply transandrophobic. the regulars did not treat transmascs with kindness. i was actually sexually assaulted by one of the transfems there multiple times, and had another that was trying to come on to me because i have to do stretches for my lower back or else it locks up, and she saw this as an invitation for sex. my ex gf started treating me completely differently the second she discovered i didn't have a penis, to the point of actually progressing to yelling at me for being too whiny and emotional. the cis gay men that were there would talk about how breasts and vaginas were gross because they were gay men right next to me.

after leaving that community i feel so much better. i'm basically on my own, i don't mind it, that's how i like to live my life as a schizophrenic person, but outside of the way i interact with the community as someone who participates in education and activism, i don't really interact with queer communities. i'm tired of being harassed, targeted, insulted, misgendered, sexualized, and getting sexually assaulted.

this is the really sad truth right now. transmascs and trans men in particular usually live outside of queer communities. we are so alienated. that's the entire reason people think we don't exist. it's because so many people will not let us exist inside of queer spaces, so we have to live elsewhere. so many trans men end up having to have mostly cishet friends to avoid drama and harassment. it's not that we don't exist- it's that a lot of people just will not let us take up space in queer communities long enough for people to see how many of us there are. there are a lot of us, but we aren't being allowed to exist inside of queer spaces, so people trick themselves into thinking we're not real trans people

you do deserve better. i hope in time the trans community learns to treat trans men better. you don't deserve to have to alienate yourself like that, but that's just how things are right now. take care of yourself. you're important even if people don't want you to feel like you are.

[kitshomeforwaywardsouls]

NICE! I feel less insane. The original thing for me is I was immediately put off by the word transandrophobia because I already knew the word Androphobia ie the clinical fear of men usually caused by trauma. Like going into it I agreed with them on principle for a bit even being slightly apprehensive. Something else I didn’t mention was a big part of being on “that side” for a little bit for me was -to put it lightly- The Bomb post. Something I still find personally inexcusable but not a reflection of the transfem community as a whole, obviously.(sarcasm not meant at you op) I ended up taking another step back to analyze things after finding out about the “We should be allowed to hunt down [slur for trans women and intersex people] for sport!” post, specifically because it hides behind the shield of “well we only mean this group of bad people.” when said people a) no longer exist online in the same context and b) most of the time get labeled as such and do not identify as one/get labeled so often they call themselves one out of spite.

Anyway wrapping back around to the Androphobia thing, I took the time to unpack that and why the context felt so slimy to me and I think I can put it into words. Bear in mind I might be reading too far into it. Basically, to take a word that at its base means to be afraid of men and fundamentally change its meaning to imply bigotry feels simply gross. We call it’s Transmisogyny because it’s the intersection between being oppressed for your transness and by misogyny. To somehow warp something a group of -primarily women- people have an issue with due to patriarchy and lack of men’s-accountability, and turn it into something wrong with them? I have genuinely seen a few people describe “Androphobia” as an axis of oppression before. I’ve seen people in these spaces try to paint the “Man vs. Bear” argument as ‘misandrist’ and that it’s somehow women’s fault we feel safer alone with a wild animal than with a man.

Sorry to text wall you I just- This has been building up for a while if you can’t tell. Your girl is tired💀

there was a brief period of time when i empathized with transandrobros largely out of my personal discomfort as a nonbinary person with the terms tme/tma - this pretty much entirely dissolved when i began to understand those terms not as obligatorily publicized personal descriptors but as tools with a communicative purpose. perhaps more importantly, i learned that most of the people involved with the proliferation of the "transmisandry/transandrophobia" concept were treating trans women like complete and utter shit and then making tgirls out to be the instigators. for this reason i seriously encourage every transmasc who finds themself feeling riled up against trans women to, like, double check the kind of messages and comments the angry girls are getting. i promise you, it becomes a lot more evident why those women are describing discomfort or fear or bitterness around trans men when you see the kind of sexually abusive, misogynistic, violent messages they're getting first. no, that doesn't excuse every joke or response, but it makes you understand how disproportionate the transmasc reaction can be. and if you can't find what i'm talking about, you don't see any examples of trans men being misogynistic, literally just message me and i'll be happy to provide as wide a range of examples as possible

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[outofpocketonepiecethoughts]

I want to preface what I’m about to say by saying that I have nothing against any ship. I have nothing against SanZo/ZoSan and even enjoy some of the fics and fanart. More importantly, I have absolutely nothing against people who like ships that I don’t like.

But goddammit why is it that if I like even one piece of ZoSan art it ends up being my entire dash. I want to see ZoLu. Sometimes I admittedly get a bit annoyed by it because I just wanna see LuZo and the only thing on my dash is ZoSan and LawLu. I don’t wanna block those tags because there’s a lot of talented artists posting there but I sometimes wish that LuZo was more popular.

Sorry for venting and being a bit negative. I don’t want to hate on ships I’m not as into or be super complainy but you know what I want to vent a bit so I’m gonna vent.

I also just don’t really get the popularity those two ships have. I get why people like SanZo. It’s got a lot of drama and they do have some pretty gay moments, but I have a hard time understanding why it’s so much more popular than LuZo. Like, the incredible devotion involved with Zoro and Luffy is insane. I get LuLaw less. Like, dressrosa made me get why people ship them, but I don’t quite understand the popularity. I don’t know maybe I just prefer to have more material to work with in terms of ships compared what there is with LuLaw. It’s like, I kind of get why people ship it after dressrosa but I still don’t really get the appeal. And I don’t really get why it seems to be quite a bit more popular than Zolu.

Again, I’m not hating on other people for liking what they like. Your preference is yours and mine is mine. I just sometimes get tired of seeing so much stuff for ships I’m not really into instead of what I really want to see.

Sorry for the rant, I just felt like I needed to get this out so I can go back to being a normal member of the fandom and just talking about things I like instead of being negative.

I probably won’t post about this stuff again because it is pretty negative, but just this once I’m gonna let myself be a bit negative.

[ceaseless-exhauster]

Strap in folks, this ended up being a long one.

I’m so fucking goddamn tired. Someone posted in a FB group (not related to Judaism, it’s a group for neurodivergent folks) with an infographic of some common dogwhistle symbols that float around in Nazi circles.

Literally, LITERALLY 100% of the comments fell into one or more of these categories:

- omg why do they have to co-opt everything? I’m a pagan and I’m not a Nazi!!

- most of these are sacred Runic symbols. I have several of them as tattoos and won’t cover them/have to cover them now/am “being targeted” because I have them

- swastikas were originally symbols for peace!!!1!!1!1!

- most of these symbols mean something deeply not-Nazi to me and I “love educating people” on why they’re not actually dogwhistles

- don’t judge people before you know them they probably don’t even have these symbols bc of that/I don’t have these symbols bc of that!!

Just. Shut the ever living fuck UP. Dogwhistles *are* dogwhistles because they can be represented as meaning something else!!!!! THATS THE FUCKING POINT.

I’m so sorry you got a tattoo because of yOuR aNcEsToRs (to be read as: an Ancestry DNA test told me I’m 28% Nordic and therefore am a Viking and needed these “sacred symbols” that I totally understand the history and meaning of and which totally even had a concrete and cohesive meaning across all Nordic cultures and no I’m not homogenising a dozen communities like people do with North American Indigenous nations) and now you think people will see you and immediately assume you’re a Nazi.

Do you think, somehow, that YOUR experience in that case is the one that sucks more? Does me feeling potentially unsafe around you based on a permanent physical change you decided to make to your body hurt you in some way? Or does the very IDEA of it wreak havoc on your psyche so gravely that it matters enough to literally say “that’s actually NOT a Nazi dogwhistle because that’s not why *I* have it/use it/display it”?

Don’t even fucking get me started on the overlap between Norse fanboy AND new age “pagan” (also a homogenisation of many cultures and practices, a great many of which are closed practices that were stolen) communities and deeply antisemitic ideology - suffice to say the Venn diagram isn’t quite a circle, but there’s a lotta crossover.

If I see some of these symbols on bold display by someone, I don’t necessarily assume off the bat that they’re a Nazi, but I damn sure am gonna have some pause as to whether their general values and life practices vibe with my general existence. And that’s just, how it is.

Tl;dr - don’t fucking hijack an educational post about dogwhistle symbolism to be like “but my precious personal connection to them!”

[kaeyaswifefromsnezhnaya]

The way Akane stopped questioning Aoi's behavior in the shinigami arc and just started acting.

For Akane to discuss the problem with words through his mouth? Yeah, lol, not far removed from the Aoi he condemns, he's also a big inventor, he's also stuck in his own theory and sees confirmation of it in everything. He doesn't need to find out Aoi's reasons and get to know her better, he consoles himself with the fact that he knows her better than others, he quickly drained the conversation about "what the hell is going on, Aoi, why are you doing this, I'm worried about you" to stupidly keep Aoi to himself. And what's wrong with that, it would seem that not wanting to let Aoi die is normal, but it's just _how_ he did it.

I believe in Akane's trauma now more than in anything else. He needs Aoi to support the trauma, so why talk to her normally? He needs to stupidly get her, so that she would be in his field of vision, in his complete control, that's why he was trying to get her every day. That's why he thinks that they simply need to become a romantic couple, and not just be together as friends, Akane needs to get whole Aoi completely.

But as soon as she suddenly moved away from him more than a hundred meters - he got stuck, he didn't even want to figure it out, Aoi shouldn't leave him. So he grabbed her, said all sorts of things out of anger, because he was tired of himself, tired of watching her, pretending that everything was fine, all his emotions were directed at her, she could really start to irritate him. And he finally pushed her to be his.

Aoi doesn't need to answer Akane that she likes him, he will convince himself of this, the danger has passed, Aoi will not leave him anywhere, and the rest is unimportant. "The Aoi in your head", Teru is right here lol, Akane is the only one playing this game, he literally doesn't need the real Aoi for this, he doesn't need to ask her opinion, he will make it up himself, Aoi is enough to just lie like a doll in his arms. Aoi wanted to leave and so he snapped, didn't let her, but what happened between them won't help them at all, Akane is still feeding this unhealthy need to control Aoi's well-being, Aoi doesn't understand what's going on. I feel sorry for Aoi the most here. As if she is some kind of evil temptress, or a masochist with a crush on her yandere friend, she is maximally intimidated by other people's behavior and confused.

Just as Kou must learn to live and let go of the dead, so Akane must learn to live apart from Aoi. It's a painful topic, he is not ready to let it go, but he should. But instead of moving towards healthy separation, we have 69 with gaslighting (Akane gaslights both Aoi and himself lol). Instead of some therapy, he only feeds his anxiety and the opinion that without it the world will collapse 😭 but wow, it's romantic

[beastgoddk]

State of Harley 2025

Talked about it before but I’m most likely going to be quitting my full time job. The plan, at least in the short term, is to work on art; I wanna make more games, and possibly open up commissions in the future (not soon, sorry). Frankly though, right now, I want time to work on my problems, have new experiences and be around people I care about, new and old. Lately I’ve been feeling some of the worst depression I’ve ever felt in my life. I cannot stop thinking about killing myself. Sorry, I’m a fraud, I know I wrote about telling you all to live. I want to be better. I want to embody what I talk about. I want to believe I can avoid stagnating or falling further into a spiral, and that we all can. I’m tired of feeling so alone and disconnected. I feel like I was only born five years ago. When I look at so many of the people around me I feel such a vast disconnect, watching them exist so effortlessly. I’ve spent so long ignoring these problems and feeling isolated that I feel like I need time to focus on fixing those things, more than a 9-5 job allows anyway. 

I’ve also wanted to focus on creating art for a long time now and felt dejected about being unable to do so. I’ve felt more and more disillusioned about the idea of ever being able to do art in the “industry”, or wanting to for that matter. The things most games are doing are just not something I really care that much about. And that’s if I could get stable, paying 2D art jobs. For a long time it felt like watching my dreams melt in my hands. I can’t wait any longer, I have to make a real attempt at this. I have to try making things I at least care about a little and see what happens. If I fail, at least I tried. I’m prepared to take that risk.

I’m scared. I know it’s risky, but I feel good about finally having the capability to actually attempt this. I look back 10 years or so to when I started learning to draw and I feel ok saying; I’ve worked hard to be in a spot where I can even consider doing this.

Anyway. Exciting things coming soon hopefully. Or maybe not, who knows. Maybe I’ll just spend the whole time being kidnapped and beaten up by other women, that’s fine too.

[velvetvexations]

Whyy are people like this! im so tired of actually seeing trans people stand up for us as intersex people only to be told their wrong by fellow trans people.

I follow gettinontopic because its nice to have an intersex aware person posting regularly in transandrophobia tags and someones arguing with him so hard on the fact that intersex arent being targetted and are just getting backsplashes of the true target, trans people.

As a intersex trans person it makes me angry!! I am the target! Fuck you anyone who says otherwise! We can all be targets to shitty bigotry but if you see that intersex are a target and feel the need to correct it, youre a douche sorry not sorry.

'Men pretending to be women' doesn't exclusively target perisex trans women because "perisex trans women" isn't a category that exists to the cishetpatriarchy. Look at people having Imane Khelif explained to them in elaborate detail just to go "she's still a man pretending to be a woman" on the basis of this or that because 'man pretending to be a woman' is just a bullshit classification for anyone they perceive as too degenerate and tainted with masculinity.

[httydfics-and-tricks]

NSFW ideas I had recently! I'm not a writer, so please bear with me. THE VERSIONS OF THE RIDERS ARE RTTE+ BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL ADULTS.

-Ryker loves pounding you until you're crying or unable to speak. He likes treating his men and women like fragile little things, and then he breaks them. Has you ride him until you're too tired, then he'll move you up and down himself. Sometimes he'll have you on your back and goes slow, but his thrusts are rough and deep even then.

Despite what some people think, he likes praising you. Running his hands over you while murmuring about how good you're taking him. Respectful and won't hurt you unless you wanna be knocked around a bit. Other than that, he's 100% praise.

-Viggo likes overstimulating you BAD. He's good with his hands so you'll get at least two orgasms before he actually decides to put his dick in you. He's one of the richest dragon hunters in the Archipelago, brothels are probably a thing, and he probably frequents them with Ryker.

So he's very good at finding the spots that have you shaking and screaming. He loves being in his tent with you and leaning back in his chair while you ride him. He doesn't like hurting you, sorry. He's very respectful when it comes to sex unless specifically asked. Praise 100%

-Johann (yk I had to include him) would have two different sides. Before his betrayal, If you're a dragon rider, he loves having you 'find' his trading ship in the middle of the seas and spend a good time with foreplay, but rushes into and gets a little carried away if it's a long trip. If we're talking about after his betrayal, he is very dominant, sorry not sorry.

Traitor Johann gets off on holding a knife to your throat to keep you more still while he's fucking you senseless. Obviously more praise before his betrayal, but after that it's all degrading. So Trader Johann is praise, and Traitor Johann is degrading.

-Krogan would be more vanilla in my opinion. He doesn't necessarily have time for it, in his opinion. But the man just gets stressed with Drago's expectations, and dealing with Hiccup. So when he does get a chance to, it's always him being the more controlling one. Really likes having you suck him off with his hand fisted in your hair. Favorite position for actual sex would be both of you on your sides, him behind you, and lifting one of your legs up. Not very vocal, but praise over degrading.

-If you thought Ruff n' Tuff were gonna be bad, Dagur outfreaks them more than anyone else. He's literally called Dagur the Deranged?? Hello? Very quick and rough pace. He does a weird mix of degradation and praise. "Good little whore" is his favorite thing to say to you, but there have been meaner things.

More into breeding than anyone else you could ever think of. He's like a fucking animal. Gets off on the smell and taste of you in any way. He'll bite you and break skin, then lick up the blood. Fucks several loads into you, and cums a lot anyway. So you're literally leaking by the time he's done. Degrading over Praise.

-Tuffnut would genuinely be a freak and willing to try basically anything and everything. You like something? Great, he'll try it and like it! He loves putting you into a mating press, he's into breeding for some reason. If you're a guy, he likes being the bottom and doggy. Very very vocal.

Like, oh my gods he won't shut the fuck up about how good you feel. "Oh, you feel amazing!" Bla bla bla. Yap yap yap. Does not whimper, but moans loud as hell. He gets goofy too. He loves making you laugh and smile, even if he's fucking you or you're fucking him. Praise > degrading 100%

-Ruffnut is just like her brother, if not worse. She's top, and very heavy power bottom. Even if you're male or female. Pull her hair, she likes that. Lick her too, she doesn't care. She's super into public sex and will risk everyone on Berk seeing and/or hearing you two go at it. Really into orgasm denial.

Sometimes she likes soft sex alone, mostly if she's in a bad mood. She just wants to hear her partner moan and sigh in her arms in their bed. She'll bury her face in your chest, man or woman. Degrading > praise.

-Snotlout would not be a top, but if he were to be one he'd be softer. He's not into anything super extreme but he gives head like a starved man who's having his first meal in weeks. He likes love-making more than just fucking, but sometimes he just really really wants careless sex.

Loves wrapping his arms around you and having you do the same to him, bonus points if you run your nails down his skin. Whimpers more than he moans, but does both. Really obsessed with your chest, man or woman, and likes suckling your nipples until they're swollen. PRAISE NO MATTER WHAAT!!

-Astrid is more vanilla, but she obviously has her likes. She definitely knows what she's doing for men and women. If you're a girl, she loves holding your hips and having you grind your clit against hers while you're on top. For men, she likes riding them decently hard. Genuinely not into anything too bad other than like, marking.

She likes being alone in a private place with you. Bed, forest, even a fucking cave. Definitely has a private spot she takes you to on the furthest point of Dragons Edge, and Berk. She doesn't like the risk of being caught despite being brave as Hel. NO DEGRADING WITH THIS WOMAN EVER!! It's all praise.

-Hiccup would definitely be a soft dom who loves seeing you pleased. Power bottom like your life depends on it guys and gals, he loves it. He usually likes missionary and having your foreheads pressed together.

Buddy boy doesn't like quickies at all. He doesn't really praise or degrade, but he'll tell he you he loves you wayy too much. Definitely vocal to at least some degree, just not overly loud. Every time, without fail, he'll hold at least one of your hands during sex. He loves being close to you in basically every way possible. Praise 100%

-Fishlegs is the only complete vanilla one among the group in my opinion. He's very soft and caring towards his partner. Does not like quickies, only love-making in your bed. Definitely has you on top all the time. He'll constantly ask if you're okay with what he's doing, check on you during sex, etc.

The times you two have long sessions there are water breaks, repositioning breaks, and just ones where he'll make sure you aren't overheating. He's genuinely so sweet, he would never do a singular thing you wouldn't like. He loves having your fingers tug on his hair or run through it. PRAISE ALL THE TIME EVERY TIME! HE LOVES GIVING AND RECEIVING.

[lesbianherald]

*vent* Flawed characters deserve love and understanding

- this message is about Jayce and Viktor (I’m tired of the SLANDER /WEEPS)

the slander is on twitter/in spaces you don't need to be in come join us in good vibes city. heeh <3

and of course they do that's so... weird. a lot of people I think are very bitter about jayce and viktor being given such a beautiful and nuanced story at the end (though viktor's arc was ass) when other characters were completely shafted. this is... totally fair.

but they're taking it out on the wrong people and making it a moral purity contest instead of engaging with what they enjoy.

--

side note. this is so tangentially related I'm so sorry but I'm thinking:

i rarely see jayce and viktor slander, but while i was still on twitter i'd see a lot of people being like - I'm this character's biggest defender - this character was justified in xyz because ABC - and I came to realize that moral purity culture that was very prevalent in the mid 2010s has really impacted the way people are able to process and engage with media in a really concerning way. and it causes people to do insane things like use phrases such as "good manipulation" and even defend blockading an oppressed population from accessing your city or even the GASSING OF CITIES LIKE DKSJFHSD

these people genuinely do not want these characters to be seen as flawed or nuanced. they want these characters to be perfect. any discussion of these flaws is "hate." any mention of any wrongdoing is hate. it gets to the point where if you discuss a female characters nuances and flaws you are a misogynist. its. so toxic like KDJSFLHDKLFj

i got that a lot when talking about jayce's corruption arc in season 1. (not the misogyny but the other stuff) all the sudden I hated this character that I literally loved so much and rotated around in my brain like a juicy rotisserie chicken at the grocery store 24/7 because I didn't think his actions were good or justified in season 1 like. Is that not the whole point? That he fucks up? And now must live with his mistakes? sorry I hope you don't view this as jayce hate when you were sad about it before its just interesting. Dsfkjld The marvelification of our fandoms is rotting our brains.

Also, people treat fictional characters like STANS, not FANS. Another huge reason I hate twitter. I'm sorry. This is such a tangent. You are so right. But I'm here on this tangent so I'm staying with it.

it makes me so sad and concerned as someone who wants to write my own stuff and put it out into the world. people can't engage with nuance anymore. People hate on fictional characters as a way to dig on the people in their shared community instead of exploring fictional characters for their nuances or critiquing flawed writing

This really doesn't help when the writing becomes fucky. Really hard for me to take Viktor criticism seriously when his storyline was so fucked. Really hard for me to take defenses of Caitlyn so seriously when they went so hard making her do so much evil of her own fruition without bothering to give her a meaningful redemption arc. And instead of blaming the shit writing, people just yell at each other lol.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey- don't get mad, but I (kinda) didn't listen to your advice and a few things fucked (as expected) but I listened it halfly- like it doesn't matter rn but thank youuu, it helped

Btw it's Czesław.

I decided to listen to you and not change my name, because I love it and the name was given by my sister (who died when I was 14) anyway, I decided Americans are not worth it. Anyway, you looking it up to pronounce it right literally made me so happy, thank you (yes the pronunciation is correct, and sorry for the late update I wasn't planning on updating originally)

But I added a name, (Olive bc I realized I can name myself anything bc America is not strict on this topic, like what? You can name yourself after olive??? I chose it because it's funny in my language. It's like I named myself cheese or something, anyway.)

Then my Friend was like, "האם אתה טיפש" (it means are you dumb or something like that) so I added an r and made it Oliver- anyway, now I have 2 names- which was weird at first but still.

Then I learned it's a common name for trans people because when I told my name to a coworker she was like, are you trans???? And I didn't know it was common to change your name to Oliver- it's not a bad name at least, but Elijah was nice too.

Anyway x3, so I decided I don't like Americans much (no offense to you I love you xoxo) because I didn't want to change or add a new name much, but they were being rude and annoying, so I just gave up, it doesn't worth to correct them, i am tired. They Still struggle with my surname and first name, but it got easier now. And thanks for saying I shouldn't change my name for them, it helps when someone from us says that- it feels more real if it makes sense.

Thank you for your advice and sorry for the late update! And it isn't anything related but I got a boyfriend! And his name starts with 'cas'- so, fun coincidence for me!

I am still in the closet btw. and he is pretty!!!

Hi!

Don't worry, I'm not mad or anything lol.

And I'm not about what you said about Americans...a lot of us suck, ngl. I'm glad you're doing what's best for you <3

Congrats on your boyfriend! If you ever need to vent about shitty americans, feel free to use my inbox!

[genderqueerdykes]

genuinely why do you believe in this transandrophobia bs. it’s MRA for trans people. We are affected by transphobia but misandry and "androphobia" aren’t real. We are not oppressed as a result of being men. plus most transandrobros always speak over transfems. - a tired transmasc

because it's real and i've faced it. friend, you do not need to hate yourself that bad. you do not have to self flagellate and pretend you do not experience a specific type of transphobia. you have been persuaded by rad fem pilled people to hate yourself and deny that you suffer a specific form of oppression. transandrophobia does exist, and pretending it doesn't for the approval of rad fems won't make you any safer or enjoy your trans manhood.

you're hurting other trans mascs & men by saying the oppression they face isn't real. reducing it to "just transphobia" is denying that those people are specifically being targeted because they are TRANS MEN and nothing else. you are hurting your trans brothers and siblings when you say this. you're hurting YOURSELF to say this. please be kinder to yourself. please stop telling yourself that what you're going through isn't real. you're not helping anyone except conservatives to deny that trans men & mascs face specific forms of oppression

i know you're tired, but sucking up to rad fems will not make your life as a transmasc easier. denying that you face a specific type of oppression is not only hurting you, but every other trans man and transmasc around you. if you care about other transmascs and trans men, stop denying their pain and suffering and telling them how to phrase it. you are legitimately hurting other people when you say this, why do you not care?

you do not care anywhere near as much about yourself and other trans men as you think you do, especially if you say "transandrobros". if you view other transmascs standing up for themselves as being "transandrobros", you really do not respect yourself or transmasculinity at all. and no, "most" trans men are not horrible to trans women. "most" trans men do not talk over trans women. trans men talking about their issues is not "talking over" trans women. please upgrade your opinion on other transmascs. you have a TON of internalized transandrophobia to get past. being a transmasc does not mean that you do not harbor internalized transandrophobia. because you clearly do as of right now.

hating transmascs and denying what we go through doesn't make transfems and trans women like you more, just so you're painfully aware of this. this kissing up to transfems and trans women by throwing transmascs and trans men under the bus is so old and tired. you're not getting transfem brownie points by being transandrophobic. all you're doing is hurting other people.

you don't have to self flagellate and pretend you don't have a specific struggle for the approval of people who are not transmascs or trans men. you're holding yourself and all of your siblings back. i'm a proud trans men's rights activist. we're something that's needed. we are not magically cis men who face no oppression after coming out as trans men. be kinder to yourself. this behavior is hurting trans men and sucking up to rad fems at the same time. why do you WANT to throw other transmascs under the bus? why do you WANT to shit talk other transmascs? it doesn't make transfems like you more.

i'm sorry you've been brainwashed into thinking that ALL mascs and men are inherently dangerous predators that can never be oppressed, but it's just not true. do better for yourself. do better for your siblings. do better for your family. kissing up to trans rad fems will not make them like you more. they're just using you as a tool to spread their propaganda. this is conservative behavior, and you're just plain wrong if you pretend that transandrophobia doesn't exist. being smug doesn't make you right.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Gladiator AU)

Sera didn’t want to do this, but she had to. There was unrest in Rome and she had to get her precious son, Adam out of Rome. The Emperor had been overthrown and they would go after Adam since he was meant to be the next Emperor and he was only ten years old.

Sera: I am so sorry Adam, this is the only way.

Adam: I understand mother, I love you.

Sera: I love you too.

She got Adam on the ship and it sailed away, she just had to hope that she would see him again someday.

16 years later……

Adam was getting ready for battle with his wife Eve. That dressed in armor while their son Abel was asleep.

Eve: We will fight to the end my love.

Adam: Of course.

They kissed and went to fight, but it was a Roman legion led by Lucifer, a celebrated general of Rome. Eve was sadly killed by an arrow in the neck. Adam was taken prisoner and taken to Rome. He didn’t know Abel was taken too. While Adam was taken to be registered as a gladiator and have his hair cut very short, Abel was seen by Lucifer who took him.

Lucifer: I didn’t like having to fight people who didn’t do anything against Rome, but a child being a slave is awful. I will make you the companion of the Princess.

Lucifer was made to be the lover of the cruel Empress of Rome Lilith. Her family took over when they overthrew Sera’s father sixteen years ago. Lilith had a child with Lilith who was Charlotte the Princess of Rome, the only good thing about being her lover. Charlotte saw Lucifer and ran to him.

Charlotte: Father, you have returned.

Lucifer: Yes and I brought a friend.

Poor Abel was crying for his mother being dead and not knowing where his father was.

Adam tried to hold back tears for his late wife and his son that he didn't know the fate of. He would likely die if he wasn't found or enslaved if he was.

He was forced to wear the armor of the gladiator for the Roman Empire. He was given a sword and shield.

Adam was forced into an area with the others who survived to be forced into being gladiators as well. There were whispers that they would be trained for the generals standards.

Adam scoffed, he didn't care about some general, all he cared for was gone now.

Lucifer stood ready to see how much work needed to go into the new gladiators.

Adam entered the arena, he was tired, angry, and felt like he didn't want to be fucked with. But here he is being forced to fight like it's entertaining. He didn't know the other man he had to fight, but he didn't care. If it was him or Adam, Adam wasn't going to lose twice.

Lucifer: Now who is that?

He watched the brunette fight in such a mesmerizing way. It wasn't everyday someone caught his eye.

He had to meet him if he lived.

[ropebunnykant]

Hellooooo I’m back ✨

So, I desperately need your take on how episode 9 has further developed Kant/Bison’s relationship dynamic, as well as the potential subtextual implications for their BDSM arrangement (I have yet to settle on an appropriate term for what they have going on).

To me, there were definitely some interesting additions, as well as some I was more iffy about, but I’d love to hear your thoughts! (I’m keeping this one brief, as I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from rambling if I started 🤣)

Best 💜

sorry it took me a minute to get to this, i was really tired last night when you sent it so i was like "that's an ask for tomorrow, you need some brain power for that" sjdhsdjf

i think ep9 did throw out some hints towards that dynamic again, and even hinted towards them being able to discuss renegotiating things. which, i do think we're gonna get a scene like that! if you watched the my fuel mv, we got a sneak peak at this scene

it looks to me like they're once again naked in bed at kant's, and i've basically convinced myself that's when they'll have their discussion about the kink dynamic again. and i think bison's comments about kant spoiling him too much in bed are kind of a nod to that. cause it's clear that's an aspect they haven't really discussed yet since they settled things! so, bison still is unaware how much of that dynamic was genuine - aside from well, the penguin scene, but that doesn't allow him to get a real gauge on how much kant actually enjoyed that stuff and how much of it was him just going along with what bison wanted because he felt he had to.

as for the other nod to their bedroom dynamic, i know a lot of people find the "daddy" thing cringey which is like. totally fair. i, however, find it EXCEPTIONALLY funny for them to have bison referring to kant as daddy when we know damn well who's in charge in their relationship. and i hope they prove that by having him do it again in an actual D/s situation cause i think that would be absolutely hilarious skjdhskdf

[whatremained]

aghhh. i was gonna respond earlier but i got tired. i’m still tired now but!!

you’re exactly right with the point that with the way connor’s autistic traits are written throughout the musical and book, they often get over looked. especially because it’s not the really common stereotype. not for men, nor for women. and a lot of connor’s traits are negative. top of my head, as im thinking of the scene i described previously… that IS a melt down. or! how connor is shown to be very impulsive. impulsivity is not commonly known as a symptom, and yet it still is.

both allistic and a handful of autistic people tend to ignore ugly and borderline harmful traits because it doesn’t make us look good… but the fact of the matter is that…? it’s a DISORDER (autism spectrum DISORDER). it’s not supposed to be all ‘i act a little shy and fixate on things’; we have a disorder, it’s not fun and games. and it sucks to see this ignored in characters who are very much autistic but don’t have the “nice looking” traits.

there is so… SO much i could write on about connor and the fact the fandom doesn’t seem to even take a glance at the fact that he could be autistic. because they believe autistic people are shy, nervous, and fixated on things. and while they can be that, autistic people can also be incredibly emotional, prone to anger for that reason, impulsive, etc.

i’m sick of the stereotype that… we as autistic people, are… shy and pure for some reason? and that we can’t be anything besides that??

and that’s a reason so many characters get shoved to the side because of the want for people to see autism not as what it is.

autism isn’t good. autism isn’t bad either. it’s just there, it’s a disorder.

i’m probably making the same points over but… who cares.

i feel like people find it harder to like. i don’t want to use the word infantilize, but that’s literally the correct word so… infantilize connor because he is shown as very pugnacious and somewhat truculent, and with that comes people viewing him as aggressive and assertive which aren’t traits many people take pity on.

this is also why i argue peopld attach onto the fake connor fandom wise, and in the show, because he’s shown to be willing, cooperative, and amiable… which is not who he was at the slightest.

people are able to infantilize connor, just not the actual character which… i am glad for but also? not because they miss the whole point of the show but that’s besides it.

and people baby evan like crazy and it pisses me off too. people act like evan… either did nothing wrong? or like…? idk it pisses me off when people try and characterize him as just a shy guy who’s would never do anything wrong in his life. random kind of too, but the characterization of evan being really short pisses me off because it adds to the infantilization. it’s?? like evan is canonically taller than connor (by book standard). why are we acting like he’s 4 foot tall? so we can infantilize him more? no thank you!

good lord. sorry about the rant!

it’s just that i’m talk about it because connor has always been a character that has stuck with me because i feel myself so represented by him. maybe it’s because of the autism, or maybe it’s because of the situation i’ve been in for awhile, but it might be the pattern of thinking he has which parallels mine (neurodivergent thinking huh). the way the book is written is immaculate in the way it writes from connor’s perspective, and it really highlights some (or at least mine lol) neurodivergent brains and how they process and view things.

aghhh again sorry. i like chatting about stuff i like