#survey sites equals

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 18 - To Hear the Distant Church Bells Chime

Summary: The gang finds a new hideout at Shady Belle, just outside the heart of the new modern America. With Jack still missing, Kate and Arthur must work together to find him. Amidst the tension, Arthur confides in Kate about his deepest regrets.

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A/N: 9.5k words yippee! Not gonna lie gang, I'm really proud of this one. So many feels. So many emotions. Little disclaimer, when I talk about Arthurs past, I am not following the canon events. I've changed the details to suit the story. Anyways, I'm so glad to be able to share this and not make you wait another two months (oopsie)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw 

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

StoryTags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the dense swamps of Lemoyne, the gang found themselves approaching their new hideout—Shady Belle. The journey had been grueling, filled with the constant threat of pursuit and the weight of recent tragedies. They had to pack quickly, and unfortunately had to leave things behind in the rush. Now, as they rode up to the dilapidated manor, a sense of uneasy relief washed over them. Physical and mental exhaustion settled into their bones as they took in the site of their new “home”.

Shady Belle was a far cry from the relative peace of Clemens Point. The old plantation house stood partially reclaimed by the swamp, its once-grand façade now crumbling and overgrown with ivy. The windows were shattered, and the wooden walls were rotting, giving the manor an eerie, haunted appearance. A thick fog clung to the ground, swirling around their horses' hooves as they approached. Even as the moon began its ascent, the sun retiring after another long day, the humidity clung to the air like thistles. The dry fever of western Lemoyne was replaced with a sweltering sticky heat from the southern swamps. 

The surrounding grounds were equally foreboding. Gnarled trees twisted upwards, their branches draped with Spanish moss that hung like ghostly curtains. The stagnant water of the nearby bayou reflected the deepening twilight, and the air was thick with the hum of insects and the distant croaking of frogs. It was a place that seemed to whisper of long-forgotten secrets and unseen dangers lurking just beyond the shadows. The cover over the bayou would keep them hidden, but the single path leading to the manor meant it would be difficult to escape if they were ambushed. 

Arthur and John were waiting for the gang upon their arrival. Having cleared out the space per Dutch's commands. It was a quick, bloody battle. The old manor had been claimed by squatters and drunks. Homeless people just looking for a roof over their head and a place to rest. There was no time for negotiation, and so they opened fire. They had just cleared the last of the bodies as the sound of hooves and wagons approached them. 

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Arthur called out with a hint of mockery and sarcasm. “If you can ignore the corpses and the alligators. It's practically paradise.” 

Dutch dismounted and surveyed the scene, his keen eyes scanning for any immediate threats. He motioned for the others to spread out and park the wagons by the front. Approaching Arthur and John with a confident smile, “nice work boys.” He turned back towards the chuck wagon, “Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson,” he addressed. “Work your magic if you’d please.” The two dismounted from the wagon with a nod and began unloading supplies. 

Dutch strode up the creaking steps to the front porch. The door hung loosely on its hinges, and with a firm push, he swung it open, revealing the dim interior. Dust motes danced in the fading light, and the musty smell of decay permeated the air. The once-opulent hallways were now lined with peeling wallpaper and broken furniture, evidence of years of neglect and abandonment.

Inside, the gang fanned out to explore their new home. Javier and Bill took to the upper floors, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Lenny and Charles headed towards the back of the house, checking the kitchens and servant quarters. Meanwhile, Arthur and John remained outside to help unload their wagons. 

Kate lingered near the entrance, her eyes drawn to the remnants of what was once a grand chandelier, now shattered and strewn across the floor. She felt a shiver run down her spine, the oppressive atmosphere of the place seeping into her bones. Sadie stood beside her, brows knitted together with uncertainty.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Sadie whispered, her voice carrying a hint of doubt.

Kate nodded, “It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do. At least we’re out of danger, for now.” 

As the gang settled in, Dutch gathered them in the main courtyard around a broken and withered fountain. “This ain’t much, but it’s ours for the time being,” he said, his voice echoing from the front steps. “We’ll make do. We always have.”

Arthur glanced around the group, noting the weary expressions and the unspoken fears. Shady Belle might provide them with temporary refuge, but the looming threat of Bronte and Jack, and the relentless pursuit of the Pinkertons weighed heavily on them all. His eyes found Kate’s amongst the crowd, she was watching him instead of paying attention to Dutch. Arthur was relieved that she didn’t leave, regretting his previous words to her almost as soon as he said them. But his duty and his ego stopped him from turning around and apologizing right then and there. He desperately needed to talk to her, he had let his anger and anxiety take hold of him. As the crowd began to disperse he was ready to approach her, when he heard his name called from the small dock jutting out into the water. It was John. 

Arthur sighed, Jack was still their top priority. His time with Kate would have to wait for another day. As he left the scene he noticed Ms. Grimshaw handed her a crate, she would be occupied with her own tasks anyhow. 

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“This is crazy, right? Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this whole thing is crazy,” John sputtered, pacing the rotting wooden dock as Arthur approached.

The small wooden fishing bench called his name, and Arthur sat down with a weary sigh. He felt so tired, so drained, and so old. The years of running were catching up to him. “It’s gonna be alright, John.”

“We should be going after Jack!” John exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

“We will. As soon as everyone is safe and settled in. We need to be careful. Milton is coming back, and he’ll bring an army with him,” Arthur explained. “Jack will be alright. We’re no use to him dead.”

John sighed, defeated, and took the seat next to Arthur. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the match with the tip of his boot. After a long drag, he passed the burning tobacco to his elder brother. “I don't even know what to think anymore.”

Arthur nodded and accepted the cigarette, taking a slow drag and letting the smoke pool around them in a cloud. “I know, but we gotta be smart about this.”

John scoffed. “Smart? Are you joking? We stirred up so much trouble and drew ‘em right to us again! How many people have we killed in the past week?”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of their actions. “Far too many, I reckon.”

“I’m tired of Dutch’s games, Hosea’s too. ‘Master con men’ my ass. They’re getting old and running out of ideas. Why should we suffer for it?” John said bitterly.

“Watch your mouth, Marston,” Arthur shot him a warning glare. “They thought those families were sitting on gold. I don’t know what else to tell you. Things don’t always work out—”

“Yeah, they thought there was money,” John interrupted. “Ain’t this always about money? And yet we never seem to have any!”

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as John stood up abruptly. “Jack’s gone. Sean’s dead, Mac, Davey, Jenny. All of this death, and for what?”

John was beginning to sound like Kate, and Arthur understood why she had joined him on their revenge mission. “We can’t change what’s done. We can only move on.”

“We need to start learning from our mistakes. We need to leave,” John said with confidence. “After we get Jack. My family, you, and Kate. We high tail.”

“We’ve had a rocky run, but it ain’t all bad. Dutch has a plan—” Arthur tried to make his brother see reason and logic. Running away wasn't going to be easy on their own, and they had the whole gang to take care of.

“This whole plan is a goddamn mess! Dutch keeps gettin’ us into worse trouble! You nearly died because he was too ignorant to see he was being set up.”

Arthur rose from his seat and pointed an accusatory finger at his brother. “And I hear you decided to take care of that little problem. Maybe if you hadn’t left, Jack wouldn’t be gone!” John swallowed and narrowed his gaze.

“You could have gotten yourself killed, Marston. Or worse. You keep this up, and you’ll never make it out alive.” Arthur shoved past him, intending to leave with those words.

He had heard enough. The situation gnawed at him. John and Kate were right, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against Dutch. He had to have faith that things would work out, that he would see them through this. Dutch had always taken care of them, since the day he found them when they were children.

“I know Kate broke your promise,” John said slowly. Arthur stopped in his tracks. “I asked her to. And she fought unlike any woman I’ve seen before.” A moment of silence passed between them, sweat running down Arthur’s neck and tickling his spine.

“I don’t know what she sees in you, Morgan, but she loves you something fierce,” John said finally.

Red. Arthur’s vision went red. Images of a woman long gone flashed before his eyes, letters of love burning in a fire. Memories of his past mingled with his present, the pain and guilt intermingling in a relentless assault on his senses.

He whirled around and shoved John back harshly, nearly pushing him into the water. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about Kate!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

John’s eyes darkened, but he held his ground. “I know you're terrified she’ll end up like Eliza,” he said, adding salt to the wound he knew he was reopening.

“You have the chance to do this differently, Arthur. Think about that.” This time John was the one to push past Arthur, making his way back into the bustling camp as everyone continued to unpack.

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Grief and regret flooded over him, each memory of Eliza and Isaac tearing at his heart. He longed for Kate’s comfort, her presence more than anything. Her words always filled him with reassurance, grounding him in a way nothing else could. She might be the only woman who truly understood him. And yet he knew he couldn’t face her now, not after what he said. And all the words that still remained unsaid, the truth about Eliza and Isaac.

He willed the memories to leave, but they haunted him and pressed down on his soul like a heavy weight. He remembered Eliza’s gentle smile, the way she cradled Isaac in her arms, the hope that they had kindled together only to have it brutally extinguished. The regret of not being there, not protecting them, tore at him every day. The fear of losing Kate the same way gnawed at his heart, driving him to the brink of despair.

Arthur pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with a shaky hand. He sat back down on the rotting bench, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. The sound of cicadas and tree frogs filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. He closed his eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace in the night sounds of their new hideout. But the pain, the fear, and the unspoken words lingered, wrapping around his heart like a vice, leaving him to grapple with his demons in the stillness of the night.

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Saint Denis was a world away from the rugged, untamed wilderness that the gang was used to. It was a bustling city, teeming with life and activity at all hours of the day and night. The streets were lined with tall, elegant buildings, their facades adorned with intricate ironwork and ornate detailing. Electric lamps illuminated the sidewalks, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the cool, modernity of the city. The cobblestone streets were filled with carriages, horses, and pedestrians, all moving in a chaotic but oddly harmonious dance. The distant ring of the trolly cart could be heard as it made frequent stops at every main intersection. 

The air was thick with the scents of the city – the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread from the bakeries, the pungent smell of horse manure, and the ever-present tang of coal smoke from the factories. Street vendors hawked their wares, calling out to passersby with promises of the finest goods and the best prices. The sounds of the city were equally overwhelming – the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the murmur of conversations, the clanging of streetcars, and the distant wail of a train whistle.

Kate had joined Arthur, Dutch, John, and Charles in their search for Angelo Bronte, the elusive figure who held the key to Jack’s whereabouts. Despite the fight they had, Arthur didn’t protest her presence. The tension between them was palpable, but there was an unspoken understanding that the mission at hand was more important than their personal grievances.

Dutch halted the group at the small central park in Saint Denis, the sprawling city looming around them with its grand architecture and bustling streets. The cacophony of voices and the distant hum of machinery filled the air. The scent of smoke and industry mingled with the aroma of street food vendors, creating a sensory overload that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

“Alright, we split up,” Dutch ordered, his eyes scanning the faces of his small posse. “We need to find Bronte’s whereabouts. Ask around, see if anyone knows anything. Be discreet, but don’t waste time.”

Kate nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The city felt like a labyrinth, each turn leading to more questions and fewer answers. She glanced a look at Arthur, their eyes meeting briefly. She saw a flicker of concern in his gaze, before he nodded and left. 

Kate set off down a side street, the sound of her boots echoing on the cobblestones. The city was alive with activity, children laughing and playing, and people bustling about their daily lives. It was a stark contrast to the quiet desperation that had settled over their camp.

She approached various shops and vendors and asked about a man named Bronte. Most of them ignored her questions, opting to try and convince her to buy their goods. Some merchants gave her a weary look at the mention of his name, and informed her that they don’t want to get involved. Their demeanor suggested that this Bronte man was dangerous, and this mission may be bigger than they realized. 

As she walked, a distant sound caught her attention—church bells, their clear, melodic tones cutting through the noise of the city. Drawn by the sound, Kate followed the bells, winding her way through the streets until she reached a grand cathedral. Its towering spires reached towards the heavens, the stones adorned with intricate carvings and stained glass windows that glinted in the sunlight. It reminded her of the church back in Boston, the one her catholic mother would bring the whole family to for Sunday worship. It had been so long since Kate attended church, after her mother passed, her father never kept up with religion. 

The ringing bells announced the joining of two souls in marriage, their song filling the air with a sense of celebration and hope. Kate stood at the entrance, watching as the wedding party gathered on the steps. The bride, radiant in her white gown, and the groom, beaming with pride, were surrounded by family and friends, their laughter and joy a stark contrast to the sorrow in Kate’s heart.

She closed her eyes, the memories of her own wedding day flooding back. The scent of blooming flowers, the sound of her family’s laughter, and the feel of her husband’s hand in hers. She remembered the warmth of his embrace, the way he looked at her with so much love. But those days were long gone, stolen away by the harsh realities of life. Her family was gone, her husband and child lost to the world of chaos that seemed to follow her every step. She missed them all fiercely, the pain of their absence a constant ache in her heart.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kate squared her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, not when there was so much at stake. The bells continued to ring, a reminder of what she had lost, but also a beacon of hope for what she could still protect.

As she rejoined the bustling streets of Saint Denis, she kept her ears open and her eyes sharp, ready to follow any lead that would bring them closer to Angelo Bronte and the answers they desperately needed.

Kate navigated through the narrow streets of Saint Denis, her eyes scanning the faces of passersby for any hint of familiarity or recognition. The city’s vibrant energy of the city was distracting but she remained focused on the task at hand. The distant sound of the church bells still echoed in her ears. 

As she turned down a side street, a sudden blur of comotion caught her attention. A young boy, no older than twelve, sprinted past her, nearly knocking her over. He clutched something tightly to his chest, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

"Hey!" Kate called out, but the boy didn’t stop. Moments later, Arthur came barreling down the street, his face a mix of frustration and urgency. He was limping slightly, favoring his uninjured ankle.

"You little shit!" he shouted, breathless, "I’ll kill you ya thieving bastard!" Arthur ran past Kate and darted down the alley after the young boy. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Kate sprinted after the boy, her boots echoing in the narrow alley. She could hear Arthur’s labored breathing behind her, pushing through the pain to keep up. The boy was fast, weaving through the crowd with the agility of a street urchin well-versed in the art of escape. Kate spotted an alleyway ahead and made a split-second decision. She darted down the narrow passage, hoping to cut the boy off.

The alley was dimly lit and cluttered with discarded crates and barrels, but she navigated it with ease. As she emerged on the other side, she saw the boy racing towards her. He didn’t notice her until it was too late, running straight into her towering figure.

Kate gripped the boy's shoulders tightly, enough to warn him without causing harm. He looked up at her, eyes wide with shock and fear.

“I believe you took something that belongs to my friend,” she said calmly. “Hand it over. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Arthur finally caught up to them, breathing hard as he leaned against the stone archway when he saw Kate. “Goddamn rotten bastard,” he growled, pushing off the wall and approaching them.

The young boy looked back and stuttered, “I-I was only playing mister, I swear!” He threw the satchel to the ground at Arthur’s feet, trying to worm his way out of Kate’s grasp. He struggled as she tightened her hold.

“Please let me go Miss, I-I’m sorry!”

“Fuckin' right you’re sorry,” Arthur mumbled, picking up his things. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill ya right here.” He spat.

Kate shot him a vehement look, and he turned his face shamefully. Checking his bag to make sure nothing was gone. 

Kate knelt down to the boy's level, her grip still holding his shoulders tightly. “What’s your name, kid?”

“J-Joey. My name’s Joey,” the boy sputtered.

Kate breathed and relaxed her grip, trying to show him she meant no harm. “It’s nice to meet you, Joey. Can you tell me where your family is?”

Joey shook his head, his voice trembling. “Don’t have one, Miss.”

Arthur’s eyes softened slightly, but his voice remained stern. “Then what the hell were you doin’ runnin’ around with my satchel?”

Joey hesitated, his eyes darting between Kate and Arthur. “I-I work for Mister Bronte. He said we could keep anything we stole. Said it’d make us rich.”

Kate exchanged a glance with Arthur, her heart pounding with relief and urgency. They finally had a lead. “Where does Bronte live, Joey?” she asked gently.

The boy’s eyes filled with fear, but Kate’s calming presence seemed to reassure him. “He’s got a big house by the water, right near the docks. Lots of men guardin' it.”

Kate sighed and released the boy. “You did good, Joey. Now get outta here and don’t let me catch you stealin’ again.”

Joey nodded quickly and took off down the alley, disappearing into the labyrinth of Saint Denis. Kate stood up and locked eyes with Arthur. It had been two days since Jack went missing, two days since their fight. There was a heavy, awkward silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Arthur's eyes were filled with relief and something else—something she couldn't quite place. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Kate tried to form her own thoughts into words, but her mind was whirling with emotions. 

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. Breaking the silence. “I left Charles near the market. He’s keepin' an eye out.”

Kate nodded, “right.” Her voice is steady despite the trouble within. “I’ll go roundup John and Dutch. We’ll meet at Bronte's manor.”

They stood there for a moment longer, neither knowing what else to say. The tension between them was palpable, but there was also a shared determination. They had a mission to complete, and Jack’s life depended on it.

Arthur gave her a brief, tight nod before turning and heading back towards the market. Kate watched him go, her heart aching with the desire to bridge the gap between them, but now was not the time.

With a deep breath, she turned and made her way through the bustling streets of Saint Denis. The city was alive with activity, the noise and chaos a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had hung between her and Arthur. She spotted John and Dutch near a corner store. 

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Charles had been a quiet, solid presence in Arthur’s life, a true friend and trusted companion. Despite having been with the gang for less than a year, Charles had quickly developed a meaningful friendship with Arthur, seeing the man beneath the tough outlaw exterior. As they rode side by side toward Bronte’s manor, Arthur couldn’t help but reflect on how much he valued Charles’ calm and steady demeanor. He was truly a good man if Arthur had anything to say about him. 

The city of Saint Denis gradually gave way to the more serene, albeit equally intimidating, waterside district where Bronte’s manor was located. The grandeur of the city was lost on Arthur; his mind was too occupied with worry and the mission at hand.

Charles glanced over at Arthur, sensing the conflict within him. “You alright, Arthur?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a grounding force.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on the reins. “I dunno, Charles. Feels like everything’s fallin’ apart.”

Charles nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s been a rough few days. Jack’s missing, Sean’s death, the new hide out... it’s a lot to take in.”

Arthur looked ahead, his jaw clenched. “It’s more than that. Feels like everythin’ I do just makes things worse. Dutch’s plans, they’re not workin’. And then there’s Kate…”

Charles turned his gaze to Arthur, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I told her not to go after Colm’s men. Made her promise,” Arthur continued, his voice tinged with regret. “But she did it anyway. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ about—” he hesitated for a breath. “I can’t protect her when she goes off like that.”

Charles nodded again, understanding the depth of Arthur’s pain. He wasn’t around when Arthur had lost his family, but he had heard the others talk about the burden he carried.

“Kate’s a strong woman. She’s been through a lot, just like you. She thought she was doin’ the right thing, even if it went against what you wanted.”

Arthur sighed, the weight of his past bearing down on him. “She promised me—”

“Stop. It’s not about her promise, I know you’re not as dense as all that.” Charles gave Arthur a moment to process what he said before he continued, treading lightly with his words. “You’ve gotta let go of your guilt, Arthur. It’s eating you alive.” He said softly.

“I love her, Charles,” Arthur’s voice trembled. His facade of strength was crumbling away with every moment.

“I love her so much it scares me. But my loyalty to the gang, it’s…it’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a family again. Kate doesn’t deserve to get swept into this mess.”

Charles sighed deeply, understanding the strain Arthur was under. “Kate is smart, she understands the risks that come with this life. But she chose you, Arthur. She’s devoted herself to you. What she deserves is the truth.”

Arthur nodded, but the words still hurt to hear. He knew his friend was right. “Something big is coming, the law is breathin’ right down our necks. I’m putting her in danger, and I am so goddamn selfish because despite it all, I love her. And I can’t let her go.”

“It’s not selfish if she wants the same thing.” Charles said, as the grand manor came into view on the edge of the shoreline. The others had already dismounted and were waiting for them by the gate.

“Tell her the truth, Arthur. I have a feeling no matter what you say, she’s not going anywhere.”

Arthur and Charles rode up to the grand gates of Bronte's manor, the imposing structure casting long shadows in the afternoon sun. Dutch and John were already speaking to the guards, their voices low and tense. Charles took the reins of their horses, patting them gently to keep them calm. Arthur scanned the scene, his eyes immediately seeking out Kate.

He found her standing a little apart from the others, her gaze fixed on the manor with a determined look. Arthur approached her quietly, the weight of the past few days heavy on his shoulders. He stopped beside her, gazing up at the grand house. His presence was a silent reassurance.

“Kate,” Arthur murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kate turned to him, her eyes softening with concern. “Arthur,” she breathed. He looked down, searching her eyes, seeing trust and understanding shimmering within them. Arthur was sure of it.

“Will you stay with Charles? Keep an eye on things, for me?” He had no idea what they were about to walk into, but if he could keep her safe from it, Arthur would damn well do it.

“Of course,” Kate answered immediately.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief just as Dutch called his name. The heavy metal gates opened with a loud creaking sound, and before Arthur could turn away, Kate grabbed his hand.

“You be safe, ya hear?” she said sternly. “And you get that boy back, no matter what.” A small grin played on her lips.

“I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart,” he replied, bringing their conjoined hands to his face and kissing her knuckles.

His fierce, determined eyes locked on hers for a moment, before he broke away, rising to his duties. The simple gesture spoke volumes, a promise of protection and unwavering love.

As the gates closed with a loud bang behind them, Kate watched the three of them ascend the long white marble steps and enter the manor. She whispered a silent prayer to the wind for their safety, and Jack's return. 

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By some miracle, the illusive man, Angelo Bronte, had not harmed a single hair on Jack's head. Much to everyone's surprise, Mr. Bronte had fed him, clothed him, and even given him a room of his own, full of toys, books, and games that every child could only dream of. The ride back to Shady Belle was filled with a silent relief. It was a win by all means, for once in their lives the conflict did not end with bloodshed. And for that, everyone was grateful. 

Jack was home safe with his mother once again. Smothering him with kisses and checking every inch of his body for signs of harm. The young boy protested and whined, promising his Ma that he was fine. But as they sat around the fire, Abigail held her boy tightly in her lap. Resting her head against his, and promising never to let him out of her sight ever again. 

The gang decided to celebrate Jack's return, letting the tension of the past days melt away in the warmth of a roaring fire. Singing and dancing erupted around the flames, creating a tapestry of joy and camaraderie under the moonlit sky. The flickering firelight cast playful shadows, illuminating the faces of the outlaws who, for one night, could forget their troubles.

Kate mingled with the others, trying to shake off the weight of recent events. But her eyes kept drifting to the periphery, where she noticed Arthur standing at a distance, watching the festivities with a sorrowful expression. His silhouette was stark against the dark backdrop of the night, a silent guardian on the edge of the light. He stood alone, like a wolf banished from the pack. The only signs of life were the red glow of his cigarette, as he lifted it to lips every so often. 

She entertained the party for a while longer, joining in the songs and clapping along with the rhythm of the music. But when she looked back to where Arthur had been standing, he was gone. The empty space he left behind tugged at her heart, and she knew she had to find him. 

Excusing herself from the group, Kate made her way through the camp, the laughter and music fading behind her. She walked towards the dimly lit manor, her footsteps soft against the grass and gravel.

Instead of focussing on the dreadful state of their new home – the peeling walls, the rotting stairs and missing floorboards – she focused instead, on the flickering light of Arthur’s room. She paused for a moment outside the door, gathering her thoughts.

All was silent on the second floor, except for the gentle creaking of the door that stood between them. It was missing one of its hinges, and the knob was long gong, the wind rocked the wooden frame in a gentle dance. Kate knocked quietly. 

“Come in,” Arthur called. His voice sounded hoarse and tired.

Kate pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, lost in thought. The dim light from a single oil lantern cast a warm glow over his rugged features, highlighting the lines of weariness and worry etched into his face. He looked up as she entered, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of surprise and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable.

She glanced around the room, noting how his things had been neatly unpacked by the others. A map lay sprawled across a large wooden crate, detailing their recent escapades and potential new routes. Old shelves were lined with gun ammo and other supplies. But it was the small china cabinet in the corner that drew her attention. Amongst the few items on display, there were two photographs. One was facing down.

Curiosity piqued, Kate picked up the photo and recognized the man in it – Arthur’s father. She placed it back down, hiding his old face in the darkness, and turned her attention back to Arthur.

“This place could use a woman’s touch,” she joked, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Arthur forced a chuckle, but his head hung low, elbows propped on his knees. He played with the frayed edges of his hat, a gesture Kate had come to recognize as one of his tell-tale signs when his mind was off in a darker place.

She sat down beside him, bumping her knee into his, trying to break through the heavy silence. She felt awkward, unsure what to say. Their emotions hung thick in the air, wrapping around them like a heavy blanket.

Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the worn brim of his hat, his voice low and rough. "You know," he began, "this old thing, it was my father's."

Kate glanced at him, her heart aching at the pain in his voice. She remained silent, giving him the space to continue. Arthur rarely spoke about his father, and she was curious about what had him in such sorrow.

“He died by the end of a rope when I was just a kid, but he lived longer than what was good for any of us,” Arthur sighed, flipping the old leather in his hands.

“He was an awful man. Hated me since the day I was born for bein’ another mouth to feed. Robbed everyone he could and spent all the money on booze. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the night he come home from a bar, reeking of rot-gut whiskey. He lost all his money in a game of poker, and took his anger out on my Ma. Blamed her for bein’ the reason we had no money. But I knew he did it because of me.”

Arthur blew a short huff out of his nose, shaking his head as if the memory of them was just a simple misunderstanding. “He took me that night, and I never saw Ma again.”

Kate gasped softly at what Arthur was insinuating. He had told her a few stories about his parents, but they were never painted in a good light. Arthur always said he didn't remember much about his mother. Her heart ached; he must have been so young to witness such violence.

Shifting his weight, the bed creaked softly. Subtly, almost unconsciously, he moved closer to Kate. Their shoulders brushing, Arthur's figure nearly leaned into her. “When I was old enough to be useful, he had me robbing folks ‘fore I could even feed myself. If I put up a fight, he would whoop my hide with some old leather chaps till I couldn’t walk.” Arthur breathed deeply; the memories still pained him.

“I tried to run away once, hid in some fellas' barn in the hay loft,” he chuckled bitterly. “Lyle nearly killed me when he found me. Told me if I ever thought ‘bout leaving again, he would put me in the ground with my mother.”

Kate couldn’t find the words to comfort him. It was too much to bear—the thought of Arthur, so young and innocent, being hurt in ways a child should never have to endure. To be raised without a mother, and a father who despised him. The abuse of power, as he was the only means of staying alive. Kate knew he had lived through hell. 

“Sometimes I wish they had put me up on that rope with him. Would’ve saved the world a lot of trouble,” he tossed the hat aside, landing on the ground with a soft whisper.

“Guess I ain’t too different from my old man.” Arthur sighed and leaned back against the wall behind his bed, looking defeated.

Kate gaped at him for a moment. How he could compare himself to such an evil man was beyond her. She looked between him and his hat, Lyle’s hat, and found herself wondering why he would keep such a thing—whether it was out of spite for his father or purely out of his own self-hatred. There was still so much about him she had yet to discover. So many scars that ran deeper than the ones Colm’s men had inflicted on him.

“I’ve met bad men. Truly evil men, Arthur,” Kate began, her voice gentle and reassuring. “But you are nothing like your father. That much I know is true.”

From the moment she said the words, she could tell Arthur wasn’t going to hear them. He had 36 years to make himself in his father’s image, on purpose or simply by his nature.

Arthur despised his father with a fervor that burned deep within him. Lyle Morgan had been a cruel, selfish man, leaving scars that never fully healed. Arthur’s childhood had been marred by violence and neglect, his father's shadow looming over every aspect of his life. The man had failed him in every conceivable way, shaping Arthur into the man he had become – a man who now felt he had no other choice but to follow in those very footsteps.

Kate had that determined look about her, like she could conquer the world if she willed it. Her unwavering strength was one of the many qualities Arthur had come to love about her. Kate was a good woman, and a loyal friend to her bones. It scared him how deeply he had fallen for her. His years with Mary felt lost to time, her decline at his proposal had hurt. But his heart had healed from rejection, and she remains alive. In the back of his mind, he knew the safest thing for her was to be far away from him. 

But now Kate is safe, Jack is home. The gang is out of trouble for the time being. But Arthur’s past regrets kept him locked in the dark. He often told the others that they can’t change the past, only move forward. But he found himself struggling to take his own advice. 

Arthur's eyes met hers, and she saw the trust and understanding shimmering within them. His gaze softened, yet the pain lingered. “I haven’t been completely honest with ya, darlin’,” Arthur finally spoke, his voice softening at the tone of endearment.

“Then tell me the truth. I’m here to listen,” Kate answered, trying to hide her restlessness. She was desperate to know what was eating him alive. It was obvious his pain ran deeper than her broken promise.

Arthur sighed and placed a hand on her thigh. Kate immediately placed her hand over his own. “Those stories I told you about Isaac, I… I wasn’t actually there for any of ‘em.” He said hesitantly. Kate nodded ever so slightly, encouraging him to continue.

In moments of introspection, Arthur felt the crushing weight of that legacy. His father had set him on this path, and despite his best efforts to forge a different future, Arthur found himself repeating the same cycle of failure and regret. His father had failed him, just as Arthur had failed his own son, Isaac. The boy had deserved a better life, a chance to grow up free from the violence and chaos that had defined Arthur’s world. Instead, Arthur’s own fears and inadequacies had sealed Isaac’s fate.

“After the kid was born, I didn’t want him raised with the gang. I didn’t want him ‘round that kinda trouble. So I put Eliza and her boy up in a cabin, not too far from where we was, but a safe distance. I promised her I would visit often, bringing her food and money. Whatever they needed.”

His fingers trembled slightly, and Kate gave them a squeeze. “As Isaac got older, he began askin’ about me, wantin’ to see me more. And… I don’t know. Guess I got scared. I was terrified he’d end up like me. Like my father. So I stopped visiting, and I never told Eliza why. She always wrote me letters, telling me stories about Isaac. But I never wrote her back, and then I lost every letter in Blackwater.”

He sighed deeply. Thinking about his first journal, the one he had carried with him for nearly a decade. All those memories, drawings, and letters were gone. Never to be graced by his eyes again. 

“The gang had a nasty run-in with the law. So we had to leave and stay hidden for a few months. When things died down, I was able to collect her letters from the post office. Eliza didn’t know if I was dead or alive and yet she begged me to come back, to visit Isaac, to send her money for food. In her last letter, she told me she had borrowed a small amount of money. They were desperate and out of options. I knew she didn’t have the means to pay them back.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I was only days too late. Some bastard had killed both her and my son over ten dollars.” Arthur closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his mouth. “Because I was too goddamn afraid of failing, I was too afraid to raise my own kid. So, I sent them to an early grave.” 

Arthur felt a wave of shame wash over him at the memory. Knowing that he had ruined other families, just like his own. When he was sent to collect the gang's money that was loaned out. The thought of his own actions made him sick. How Kate had stuck with him after the mess at Downes ranch was a mystery to him. 

Kate's breath caught in her throat as Arthur's words settled into the quiet room. Her heart ached for him, the weight of his past sins and regrets pressing down on her own soul. She had always known there was darkness in him, but hearing it laid bare, raw and unfiltered, shattered her. She understood why her broken promise and Jack’s disappearance had ravaged his emotions. And she felt a deeper understanding of the giant that often consumed him. 

Arthur’s fear of failure was an all-pervasive, mind-numbing, greedy serpent coiled deep in his belly. Devouring his strength and will. It changed his world from one of fleeting curiosities and riveting mischief to a cold, airless box. Suffocating and relentless, it whispered of past mistakes and potential losses, dragging him into a quagmire of self-doubt. Each breath felt like a battle, every decision a gamble with impossible stakes. The weight of his regrets, and the haunting memories of those he failed to protect, gnawed at his soul. He feared that every step he took might lead to another disaster, another life lost. And yet, despite the paralyzing dread, he pushed forward, driven by a desperate hope that was as old as his weary soul. 

Kate pulled him closer, her arms wrapping around him tightly, as if her embrace could somehow shield him from the pain of his memories. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But you didn't send them to their graves. You can't blame yourself for what happened. Life is cruel and unforgiving, no man can bear that kind of weight."

Arthur leaned into her embrace, his body trembling with the force of silent sobs. "But I do, Kate. I carry that shit with me deep in my chest. I failed them. I couldn’t protect my own family, and I’m terrified I’ll fail you too."

Kate pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands. "Arthur, look at me." His eyes met hers, filled with a deep sorrow that broke her heart. Dark blue eyes reflecting his desperate ache.

"You haven’t failed me. And I have faith that you never will. But I need you to trust me too. I need you to believe that I can handle myself, that I can be there for you just as much as you are for me."

Arthur shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you. But the only way I can protect you is if I know you’re safe, if I know you’re not running off to find trouble without me at least knowing about it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too. Not after everything."

Kate's heart swelled with love for the man before her, so strong and yet so vulnerable. Tears clung to her eyelashes, like shooting stars in the night sky. Threatening to fall down into their world.

She nodded, understanding the depth of his fear. "I promise, Arthur. I won’t run off without telling you first. But you have to promise me something too."

Arthur looked at her, his expression filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "Anything, darlin’."

"Promise me that you’ll let me stand by your side, no matter what. That you won’t try to push me away to protect me. We’re in this together, Arthur. And I want to be with you, through everything."

Arthur's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly. "I promise I will try."

Kate smiled through her tears, "that’s all I ask." She leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Full of comfort and compassion. 

Arthur pulled away from her lips and took a deep breath, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Kate,” he whispered. His blue eyes searched hers, wondering how such a woman was created for him.

“I love you,” he breathed, the words heavy with the weight of his emotions. "I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone."

Kate's heart soared at his confession, her eyes filling with tears once more. "I love you, Arthur.” Her voice breaks with the strength of her words. “More than you could imagine."

Arthur kissed her then, and it was like kissing a new man. A man who had shared the depths of his soul, bearing all of his broken and ugly parts. The kiss was slow and deliberate, every touch of their lips a promise of the love they had found in each other. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing the both of them to soar to new heights. As their lips moved together, the world outside ceased to exist, and in that moment, they were all that mattered.

The warmth of his hand on her cheek, the gentle pressure of his lips, and the soft whispers of their breaths intertwined, creating a cocoon of intimacy and connection. Kate felt the depth of his love in every touch, every caress, and she knew that despite the hardships they faced, they had found something truly worth fighting for, in each other.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate and Arthur sat together on the porch off his room, watching the full moon rise over the distant horizon. The night was calm, the air filled with the soft sounds of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves. The flickering glow of lighting bugs danced across the night. The faint scent of blooming night orchid wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the surrounding bayou. A gentle breeze brushed against their skin, cool and refreshing.

Kate nestled comfortably in Arthur’s lap, her head resting against his chest. She could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a rhythmic reminder of the man she loved. He smelled of tobacco, mixed with cedar and musk. A comforting and familiar scent. Her thumb brushed over the softness of his beard, savoring the quiet moments of peace they had carved out for themselves. She traced the lines of his jaw, feeling the strength and roughness of his skin, the evidence of a life hard-lived.

Arthur’s face was lit by a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the serene glow of the moon. The silver light cast soft shadows across his features, highlighting the creases and scars that told stories of battles fought and survived. He held her close, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other gently combing through her wind tousled hair. 

After a moment, he spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. “I’m sorry, for what I said the other day,” he murmured, his deep voice soft and tinged with regret.

“Hmm?” Kate responded, her gaze shifting to meet his.

“Bout you leaving; how I wouldn’t stop you. I’m sorry I said that.” He clarified. 

Kate smiled tenderly. “You’re forgiven, Arthur. I knew you didn’t mean it,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing.

“Good. Cause you can bet if you try to leave me now, I’ll hog-tie ya and run away with you on the back of my horse,” he said with a playful grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh yeah? Is that a promise, cowboy?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Arthur chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Damn right it is.”

With that, Arthur pulled her closer, his lips attacking hers with playful, hungry kisses. He nipped gently at her lower lip, eliciting a soft giggle from Kate. His kisses trailed down her neck, each one filled with a mix of teasing affection and unspoken desire. Kate’s laughter mingled with the soft rustling of the night, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his assault of love, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through her entire being.

Kate sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m sorry too. For breaking your promise,” she said finally, composing herself and sitting up in his lap. “If it makes you feel any better, I found those boys who took you.”

Arthur’s expression grew serious, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I’d imagine you gave ‘em hell,” he spoke. “Still worries me that they saw your face though.”

Kate straightened herself and gave Arthur a serious look, “It’s not like we had time for introductions, besides, one of them already knew who I was. But they can’t hunt me from the grave, Arthur.” 

Arthur sighed and looked away from her for a moment, remembering the young O’Driscoll who had stolen his portrait of her. “Colm’s a dangerous man. I’m just worried he’ll use you against me. That’s all.”

Kate sank a little at his words, feeling guilt stir in her belly, “I understand.” 

As if sensing her regret, Arthur attempted to lighten her mood, “Oh, don’t give me that look sweetheart. Just invite me next time you’re making house calls and…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “You didn’t have to do that for me, y’know.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Part of me was just being selfish,” she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and embarrassment.

Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion and looked down at her, “Selfish ain’t quite the word I would use.”

Kate let out a breathy giggle, appreciating Arthur’s attempt to be sweet. Her heart throbbed at his recent confession, and she felt he deserved the truth behind her actions.

“It’s true. Ever since I lost my family I–” She suddenly felt a frog in her throat, and her face felt warm with oncoming tears. 

It was easy to talk about them, to talk about her grief with Arthur. To share memories of her loved ones was as simple as breathing. She could paint vivid pictures of her family's laughter, the warmth of their embrace, and the love that had once filled her life. It was a way to keep them alive in her heart, to ensure they were never truly gone. But what was hard was admitting how her strength and resolve were merely a facade, covering up the darker parts of her. The parts desperate to regain some semblance of control in her life.

Kate's past was marred by tragedy and loss. The day she lost her husband and child had shattered her world. She remembered the suffocating grief, the unbearable weight of their absence. But fate wasn’t satisfied with her loved ones, it took a piece of her as well the day she was taken prisoner. In the aftermath, she had vowed never to feel that powerless again. She built walls around her heart, armor made of determination and resolve. To the world, she appeared strong and unyielding, a woman who could handle anything thrown her way. But beneath that facade lay a deep-seated fear.

“I’m terrified of feeling powerless again,” she continued. Arthur listened closely to her every word. “Unable to save my loved ones or save myself.”

She paused, her voice catching as she fought to continue. “It’s like this relentless force driving me, this need to control everything around me. I’m afraid, Arthur. I’m afraid of losing you, afraid of losing everyone I care about.”

Arthur’s eyes softened with understanding, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Kate took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the lines of Arthur’s face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“It’s been so hard on my own. I’ve spent so long pretending to be strong, convincing myself that if I can control things, I won’t get hurt again. But it’s exhausting, and it’s not real. The truth is I am not a strong woman, just a scared one.”

This need for control was consuming her. It left her anxious and restless, always on edge, always waiting for the next disaster. Kate's journey had been a solitary one. She had relied on herself for so long, she had forgotten how to lean on others. Her independence was both her strength and her weakness. It kept her moving forward, but it also kept her isolated. She had been so focused on surviving, on maintaining her semblance of control, that she had forgotten what it meant to truly live.

“No,” Arthur sat up abruptly and gripped her hands. “No, Kate, that is not true. You’re bein’ too hard on yourself.” His voice was firm but gentle, filled with a reassurance that made her lips tremble. Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she absorbed his words.

“Goddammit woman. I don’t ever want to hear you speak like that,” Arthur's voice was stern, like he was scolding a child, but it was laced with overwhelming support and love. “You can be both. You understand me? I’m scared too, darlin’. I promise you, I’m just as scared. But that don’t mean you ain’t strong. You’ve done so much for this gang, for me.”

Kate looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his conviction. Meeting Arthur had changed everything. He saw through her facade, saw the pain and fear she tried so hard to hide. With him, she didn't have to pretend. She could be vulnerable, could share the darkness that lurked within her. It was terrifying, but it was also liberating. For the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.

Arthur's grip on her hands tightened as he continued, his voice a soft rumble. “The devil may have dealt you some nasty cards, but you faced that fire and you came out stronger. You’re one of the bravest people I know, Kate. When I look at you I am filled with pride knowing how brave and compassionate my woman is.”

Kate's tears flowed freely now, not from sadness, but from the relief of being understood, of being accepted for all that she was. She leaned into Arthur, resting her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.” Her voice felt tiny in his presence. Kate couldn’t find the words to express how much Arthur meant to her, but in her heart she knew he understood. 

Arthur squeezed her tight to his chest, resting his chin atop her head. “And I love you, Kate McCanon.”

As she sat with Arthur on the porch, the moon casting a gentle glow over them, Kate realized that she didn't have to face her fears alone. She didn't have to be in control all the time. She had Arthur by her side, and he had her by his. She could let go, if only a little, and trust that he would catch her if she fell.

A/N: I know this chapter was super dialogue heavy. But tbh I just love writing conversations lmao. I particularly enjoyed the segment with John, he’s just a fun character to write. I was intending to end the chapter with Arthur’s confession about his father/son. But then i was like nah i really think Kate should open up about this too. It’s time to air out the dirty laundry, you know XD

Anyways. Big things coming my friends. If my little ADHD brain can work with me next chapter will be incredibly steamy. Lots of smut. It’s about damn time!! It’ll be a longer chapter, as there’s some other characters I’ve been neglecting for a while. And I’m also going to another wedding! So I’ll be gone for a few days, and I’ll be working on it when I get back.

Thanks for reading guys :)

[nostalgiclittlespace]

can you write a fic about CG!Rosie looking after Little!Vox for the day but Vox is jealous that Rosie's paying more attention to Alastor?

(Vox''s little age is 2-3 and Alastor's little age is 0-2)

Sure thing, anon! Here you go, I hope you enjoy :). Al and Vox are needy Littles, but we love them 😁. And Rosie is the perfect CG of course. (I definitely didn’t project my longing for affection and insecurity onto Vox, why would you think that)

SFW, PLATONIC AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF NSFW, KINK, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES.

Title: Double Trouble Word count: 1316

Pairing: Little! Vox & Little! Alastor & CG! Rosie.

Summary: While Rosie is babysitting two Little Overlords, Alastor and Vox, the latter starts to feel left out. Big feelings, minor tantrums, and forgiveness happens.

Double Trouble

The room over Rosie’s Emporium echoed with the squeals and playful madness of the two Little ones Rosie was currently babysitting.  There, they were protected from the gruesome, Hellish nonsense happening beyond the Emporium.  Even for three Overlords, perhaps the three strongest sinners in all Hell, this safety was beyond welcome.

Well, though it was safe, it certainly wasn’t peaceful.  Both Vox and Alastor had the unfortunate habit of discovering trouble.  Luckily, Rosie had grown adept at wrangling them, and keeping them entertained.

At the moment, random toy cars, rattles, tethers, and stuffed animals littered the shared play area.  Rosie, Alastor, and Vox sat amongst the chaotic, playtime mess as well, the latter two crawling and playing wildly.  Rosie, much more composed, handed Alastor his pacifier (he had been attempting to chew his fingers again.)

“Here you go, hun.  Much better, hm?” Auntie Rosie smiled softly, placing the soother into his mouth.

Alastor mumbled something in reply, immediately crawling closer and clambering into her lap.  His incoherent babbling only increased Rosie’s fondness and grew her smile wider still.

Something Vox noticed very quickly.

Crawling over to her, he tugged on her sleeve.

“I wanna play wit’ you more!” he informed her, holding out a toy car for her to steer.

“Okay, darling.  Just a minute, alright?” Rosie smiled at him before returning her attention to Alastor, who had pulled on her collar the moment she paid any attention to the other Little.

Vox pouted to himself, hugging his toy car to his chest.  He didn’t like it when Auntie Rosie gave all her attention to Alastor; it just wasn’t fair!  She was his Auntie too!

Silently, Vox pouted, watching the way Rosie held Alastor in her lap.  The icky feeling lingered and increased every second he watched them.  He just wanted it to be fair, for him to get the attention Alastor did in equal measure.

Looking around the room, he looked for a way to get Rosie’s attention.  His eyes fell on the train set Alastor had been building together earlier that day.  The railroads had been put together, animals and trees on the sidelines, and even several town buildings had been crafted from colorful blocks.

A haphazard, juvenile plan formed in his mind and he wandered to the toy tracks.  Without thinking of consequence, only that Rosie would finally tear her eyes away from Alastor, Vox gave the toy trains a good kick, thus knocking them over with a clatter.

Vox stood over the newly made mess, and before he could really comprehend whether he did the right thing, an unhappy shriek pierced the air behind him.

“Vox!” Rosie called him, her voice stern but not accusatory.  “Did you tip over Alastor’s trains?”

“Yes,” he replied, seeing no point in lying,

“And was it an accident?” Rosie inquired while Alastor whined in disappointment as he surveyed the disaster area.  His pacifier had fallen out of his mouth, Vox noted, and his permanent smile had turned utterly strained.

“No,” Vox answered stiffly.

Rosie stared at him for a moment.  After a few beats, she managed to give Alastor his pacifier back, and he was momentarily appeased.

“Okay.  Why did you wreck Al’s toys then?” she asked, not raising her voice in the least.

Nonetheless, Vox slowly realized that maybe this wasn’t the best path to take.  She only felt bad for Alastor, not for him!  Why wasn’t she caring more about him!?

“Because!” he settled on angrily.

“Was it because of a big feeling?” Rosie asked, taking the outburst in stride.  This wasn’t the first time she had dealt with tantrums, and she knew full and well that they could manifest due to overwhelm.

Considering her question, Vox paused for a moment.  Was seeing Alastor get all the attention causing a big feeling?  Yes, it was.  And one he couldn’t very well explain either.

“Yes,” Vox replied stiffly.

“What kind of feeling was it?  Were you scared, sad?” Rosie’s voice maintained its usual compassion.

“I don’t know!” Vox grumbled, pouting and stamping his foot.  He wrung out his hands and rocked back and forth, trying to rid himself of the sticky, infectious feelings that still lingered.

Luckily, Rosie always knew what to do.  Placing a hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it reassuringly—thus keeping his attention on the present.  The familiar touches ebbed away at the bad emotions a little too.

“How about you color me a picture to show me?” Rosie suggested.

Vox thought for a moment before nodding.  Drawing a picture to show the big feelings they really couldn’t explain had become a frequent activity in their safe haven.  The weight of being an Overlord thrust upon a child often left both Alastor and Vox drained, irritable, or even plain sad.  Rosie’s idea to color the feelings made them a lot easier to understand.  And somehow, she could interpret the colors, the strength of their stroke, and the shapes without failure.

Crawling over to their craft table, Vox snatched a piece of paper, then sifted through the crayons.  Rosie, with Alastor held on her hip, approached the table as well, sitting beside and watching him.

Black and green crayons scribbled across the paper in wild, fast lines.  The colors blended together nonsensically—a stark contrast to Vox’s usual care in his art projects.  

Rosie didn’t say anything until he set all the crayons back into their box.  With his pout not quite gone, he slid the sheet over to her. 

“It looks like you were feeling an awful lot, darling,” Rosie said gently as she admired it.  “What made you feel so upset, hm?”

Vox kicked his foot, staring down at the floor.  

“Al gets all the attention,” Vox grumbled quietly.

“I see.  Were you upset when I was talking to Al and not playing cars with you?”

“Yeah,” Vox nodded. 

Rosie thought for a moment before opening the arm that wasn’t currently holding Alastor.  Vox, feeling a little vindicated, accepted the hug.  With a quick adjustment, both he and Alastor fit perfectly in her arms.

“How about, after Alastor goes down for his nap, we can have some play time.  Just the two of us,” Rosie suggested.

“Really?” Vox inquired.

“Yes, really.  But you will still need to take your nap too, mister.  But I think we can delay it by fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.  T’ank you, Auntie Rosie,” Vox smiled, hugging her again.

“You’re very welcome, hun,” she laughed softly.  “But, first things first; you need to apologize to Alastor, then put his trains back together.  Can you do that?”

Vox nodded, knowing the punishment fit the crime.  It wasn’t even punishment really—it was only fair that he fixed the mess he made.  And Vox only wanted things to be fair after all.

Turning to Alastor, who stared right back with wide doe eyes, Vox said genuinely, “I am sorry I wrecked your train station, Al.  I’ll put it back just the way it was.  Do you forgive me?”

Alastor’s expression and ears quirked in thought for a moment before his head bobbed a short nod.  Crawling out of Rosie’s lap, the little Radio Demon snagged Vox’s hand and toddled them both over to the toys.  Plopping down, Alastor patted the spot next to him, clearly gesturing for Vox to sit too.

Vox gladly obliged, and immediately replaced all the wooden tracks and the plastic wildlife he had toppled.  Rosie followed shortly behind them, watching the two play and make up. 

She tapped Vox on the shoulder, saying, “Good job, dear.  And remember that if you feel left out, you just need to tell me.  I’m sorry if I made you feel like Alastor gets all my attention.”

“I forgive you, Auntie Rosie,” Vox smiled softly. 

He gave her a quick hug, until Alastor pulled on his sleeve, wordlessly demanding that he return his attention to the very important business of trains tracks.  

[kiuda]

DREAMBLR CENSUS 2023

Hi, hello and welcome everyone to the 2023 Dreamblr census results! 

Let me start by thanking all of you for taking part - I love looking at statistics like that and making this has been a real joy. I hope at least some of you will find the results interesting as well <3

So, first things first - some numbers. 353 people have taken part in the census. There are over 350 people that say ‘yes I am a part of Dreamblr’. That’s amazing! I am so happy to see this community thrive :D 

Now let’s get to the questions.

What continent are you from?

One of the more straightforward questions on this census. 

The results are not surprising in the slightest - over 85% of the people that have taken the survey are from North America or Europe. 5.9% come from South America, 4.8% from Asia, 1.7% from Australia and Oceania. 4 people decided not to answer and thus became citizens of Antarctica and one person comes from Africa.

What country are you from (optional)?

Before we get to the statistics, it’s important to mention a couple of things. First of all - this question was optional. The survey site let you pass without putting anything in and the question itself had the word ‘optional’ in it. Despite that 2 of the 4 people that chose Antarctica also wrote in the countries they lived in. All in all 270 out of the 353 people decided to answer this question.

Second of all. 

Americans.

For the love of everything holy. 

Please. PLEASE. Decide on one way to call your country.

As I was using google forms, the survey was sensitive to lower- and upper-case letters, which meant that in the end there were 25 versions of the your country’s name, including (but not limited) to: America, Murica (including ‘eagle noise’ once), the U.S, The U.S., u.s, U.S.A., U.S.A, United States, united states, United States of America, United states of america, US, Us, us, USA, USA! and u s of a. 

Special shoutout to the person who just wrote in ‘Arizona’ as well. 

In the end the top 10 (eh kind of) most popular countries on the survey were……

Drumroll please!!

USA - 133 

Canada - 26

Germany - 17

Poland & UK - 8

Brazil - 7

England - 6

Russia - 5

Chile, France, Sweden and the Netherlands - each with 4

As you can see, I have decided to treat ‘England’ and ‘UK’ as two different answers, since that’s how the survey responders decided to specify their countries.

What age are you?

Another straightforward question. Over 70% of us are between 18 and 25 years old. 13 are 31-45 years old and 8 people decided not to specify their age. 1 person has declared to be over 45 years old. You can see all the answers on this awesome pie chart as well!

I think it’s pretty cool how while a lot of us are young adults or even still teenagers, there are also older fandom enjoyers among us :D I hope you are all enjoying your time!!

When did you join the fandom?

First of the more fandom-specific questions. And probably the first question, where the answers genuinely surprised me!

A lot of us are OGs! Either having joined in 2019 or early/late 2020! Those people remember it all - the beginning of Dream SMP, the first vlog, Antfrost’s coming out and even the beginning of manhunts in some cases!

Out of the rest, early 2021 was another popular entry point to the fandom. Which shouldn’t surprise anyone either - it was still during the pandemic, probably the peak of Dream’s (and Dream Team’s/Dream SMP’s popularity). 

9 people did not remember when they joined the fandom.

Similarly, 9 people are newbies! They’ve joined us in late 2022, while 23 joined in early 2022. 

No one has joined in 2023 yet. (or haven’t seen the census. also possible.)

Who is your main?

This is a question that I could have made better in hindsight. I think a better answer than ‘I can’t decide’ would be ‘I like them all equally’, since I was assuming that all participants of the census did like the Dream Team members either way. It’s not a big mistake, just a small note I wanted to add.

To most likely no one’s surprise - the most popular person among Dreamblr’s population is Dream (224), followed by George (63) and Sapnap (15). 51 participants couldn’t decide on one of them.

Who do you watch besides the DTeam the most (out of other mcyts)? Please list 3 people max.

This question caused more problems than I'd imagined. Guys. I was asking about other MCYT (aka Minecraft Youtubers and Streamers) besides the DTeam. That means that I had to unfortunately eliminate some answers, the most popular out of which was Hasan, who I don’t think has ever played Minecraft before.

To answer some of you, who had some doubts about who counts as a MCYT….

Yes, Wilbur Soot does count.

Yes, Charlie Slimecicle also counts.

Yes, Hermits also count.

I am also counting Ludwig, since he did make Minecraft content.

PeteZahHutt also counts.

Corpse Husband counts as well, since he is technically a DSMP member.

RTGame counts as well - again, Minecraft content on his channel.

Again - Hasan does not count.

So now, without further ado… The top 10 most popular answers!

I have also not counted answers that went over 3 people (as in, I have only counted the first 3 names).

If any of you were wondering - 8 people really wish Hasan did play Minecraft.

Which Dream content is the best content?

Another easy question with an easy answer, where most people either prefer Dream’s Youtube content or just love it all.

Quick shout out to the two people who love Dream’s music the most and two who prefer other content than specified in the survey. 

What got you into the fandom?

The toughest question to count. I did not expect so many different answers, so in the end I’ve decided to sort all the answers into a few categories (and I am sorry about that I know it’s not the best way to go about it, but here you guys can see all the answers to the question in an google spreadsheet if you want to).

dnf (answers included: ao3, heatwaves, dnf compilations on youtube or tiktok…)

manhunts (answers included: youtube recommendation of manhunts, binge watching manhunts…)

art (answers included: sad-ist animations, art in general, cosplays…)

lore (answers included: Dream SMP, lore vods…)

Other MCYT creators (answers included: SMP live, wilbur soot’s videos…)

Friend/family member recommendation

Among us streams

Twitter (answers included: seeing drama, twitter trending page…)

Other Dream Team content (answers included: other Dteam videos, tiktoks by them…)

Fandom (answers included: a tumblr mutual started posting about them, tiktok compilations, youtube compilations…)

Hot (answers included: found George/Sapnap hot)

I don’t remember

And finally. The last question of the census. The one we all have been wondering about.

Have you been here since before the face reveal?

As it turns out…

Only 2 people joined us since the face reveal!

The rest of us has known about this community and about Dream earlier and was waiting the day of the face reveal impatiently.

And that’s it! Thank you once again for taking part, hopefully my rambling won’t make this post too boring to read!

Have a great day/night! <3

[elderscrollsconceptart]

Saint Jiub is free!!!

Oblivion knows what sort of indescribable bargain or battle he must have had with the Ideal Masters to return both his soul and physical form, but he's finally free!!

He appeared, if only for an instant, in front of a crowd of worshippers at one of his shrines near Mournhold. Then almost immediately after he was gone, he appeared in front of a crowd of devotees at a temple in the Imperial city.

Word has spread from a tribe of ashlanders that he materialized once more on a cliff near the summit of the ever smoldering Red Mountain, surveying all the destruction that had been wrought to his homeland.

He remained there for days, unmoving as the awed Ashlanders kept vigil below, waiting for a word or a sign.

Finally, before dawn of the 3rd day he gestured towards the brilliant moon, appearing as if he were holding it in hand. With the other arm he placed his hands amongst the dimming stars cradling them with equal care.

With this, the ashlanders fell to the ground in both awe and terror. Was he possessed by Azura herself? Was he signifying the return of her beloved champion, the Nerevarine? Or something else entirely?

None approach him or asked. When the bravest of them dared look up once more, St. Jiub was gone.

But praises to the Reclamations for St Jiub had not abandoned Morrowind or her people!

The blessed Saint continues to materialize at shrines, temples, and sacred sites throughout Morrowind.

A raiding party from Blackmarsh was turned to ash the second they crossed the border. A haughty band of Corsairs were found utterly eviscerated and adrift along the coast between Skyrim and Blacklight. Thousands of cliff racers are found across Morrowind, pierced by chitin arrows shot from an unseen marksman.

The Dunmer people are gripped in religious ferver and the foes of Morrowind quiver in fear of her returned protector.

The gongs and chimes of the Temples resound all across Morrowind. Prayers, cheers, and chants echo across the ashlands in a cacophony of deafening adulation.

Innumerable throngs of Dunmer from all corners of Tamriel are in pilgrimage back to Morrowind in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Saint Himself.

Not since the eruption of Red Mountain has such a number of Dunmer returned to their ancestral homeland. The unity of the Dunmer people is now nearly unprecedented as the entire race is uniting in worship, joy, and awe.

Two centuries of war, disaster, and suffering have given a heavy heart to the Dunmer people, but no more! The dire suffering and misfortunes of centuries past are coming to an end, St. Jiub has returned!

[cryptidsurveys]

Friday, October 4th, 2024.

Cattery? You're looking for the cattery? Sorry sir, no one here but us bats! ;D

Describe your most recent purchase: Various groceries and toiletries.

Did you enjoy the last movie you watched in theaters? I went to see Wild Robot with my mom on Wednesday. The trailer alone had me choking up during previous theater visits, so I knew I had to see it and I'm so glad I did. Out of all the movies we've gone to over the last year, that one has to be my favorite. Also, I've been thinking about how "children's movies" hit so much harder when you're an adult. Sure, as a child, I could understand the broad strokes of sadness, but now that I'm older and have lived something of a life, movies like that absolutely emotionally destroy me. Inside Out 2 had a big impact on me too, but that one was more like an intense therapy session.

If you make surveys, where’s the last place you saw a survey made by you on another person’s site? Sometimes I run across old surveys of mine while looking for something to take, but I don't stop to see how recently they were taken. Then there are surveys that make me think, "Hey, wait a minute. Did I make that, or--?" Some of the questions seem so familiar, like something I would ask, but then there are those few that make me doubtful. I took one just the other day that had me wondering, but I don't recall who I snagged it from.

Do you take the subway train often (if your city has one)? I've never taken a subway before. I guess the closest equivalent would be the trolly we took while visiting San Francisco.

What shoes did you wear today? Black and white slip-ons.

Does your sibling have a significant other? Last I knew, they do.

Have you ever cried at a real wedding? I think I might have cried a little at Steph and Shelly's wedding back in 2014.

How would you feel if a girl asked your boyfriend out for a drink? I'm not in a relationship. I'm also not a straight woman, so…I think a lot would depend on the context. Obviously, if there seemed to be a romantic/flirty connotation, then I wouldn't be comfortable with it.

Do you live in an apartment or a house? A house.

Do you use Skype? I've never used Skype.

What do your flip flops look like? N/a.

Any idea what you want for your next birthday? I don't really want anything gift-wise. I would love it if it was snowy, though.

Are there any gadgets of yours that need charging right now? There's nothing that needs charging, but the little thermometer on my desk needs new batteries.

What’s the name of your nearest grocery store? Big Lots has some groceries and I think Target has a small selection as well, but as for "real" grocery stores, Walmart and Vitamin Cottage are about equally close.

What do you use to remove makeup? I don't wear makeup.

Which awards show would you wanna go to the most (e.g Oscars, Grammys etc.)? None. That sort of thing doesn't interest me whatsoever.

Any idea what time you’ll be going to bed tonight? I'll most likely be in bed around 7:00pm, but I probably won't actually fall asleep until sometime closer to 8:00-9:00pm. Gotta continue working my way through a 6 1/2 hour Mythillogical Loch Ness Monster episode from The Histocrat.

Do you think George Clooney is hot? I'm kind of indifferent. I don't think he's ugly, though.

Have you ever participated in local magazine cover girl searches? No.

What colour is your keyboard? Black with white letters/etc.

Do you keep the plastic/paper/whatever bags after you buy stuff? We used to keep the plastic ones for kitty litter, but Walmart switched over to reusable bags some while ago, so we've just been using those instead (not for litter, lmao, but in general - just in case that wasn't clear).

Do you own any high waisted pants? No.

Do you know anyone who has two different coloured eyes? There was a kitty named Claire at the animal shelter who had two different colored eyes (one blue and one gold), but I've never met a person like that.

Do you wanna be a pirate or an elf? An elf. You'll never catch me sailing the high seas.

Have you ever purchased anything online? Yeah.

Gold or silver accessories? Gold.

Have you ever been called a skank/slut because of the way you dress? I don't think so.

Have you ever ridden an elephant? I might have when I was a baby. I have very vague memories of doing so, but I could be mistaken.

Are you a fan of acrylic nails? I was in the past. Or just longer nails in general. Now I work with my hands too much for them to be anything more than an annoyance/hindrance.

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

Toa Mata

Tephrys and Jaller had vanished down the once-gleaming lanes of Ko-Metru. Voriki paid the departing Matoran no heed but was again staring across the silver sea at the distant wall of the dome.

"If they made their way through the sea-gate by force, we'll have to cross and repair it at the site," he said. "An alarm should have sounded, but things do not work as they ought, even those we rigged ourselves."

"They did not force their way in," said Kopaka. "They were admitted."

"You're sure?" Voriki surveyed him closely.

"So Nidhiki told the other, when we were freed: 'open the sea-gate.' They abandoned us to take the opportunity while you were away."

"I thought it was strange that they were still here--or that they'd returned here," said Voriki, nodding slowly. He had already noted that Kopaka's recall was precise. "Alas, but many dark things lurk in Metru Nui now. They must have sided with The Shadowed One, as all evil things inevitably seem to."

"You have a story to tell us," reminded Tahu.

"I don't even know where to begin," said Voriki, "with patching this hole in our defences OR with telling you…" He paused. "Perhaps we don't need a boat just now. If they opened the sea-gate while I was away, the master switches must still work. If they were based here in Ko-Metru, and had enough time while I was above--and since they came from this sector of the dome--it must be the regional master switch in the Ko-Pituita."

Voriki caught Tahu's eye. The Ta-Toa was staring at him stiffly.

"I'll try to tell you 'the story' on the way. I'm no chronicler…"

Voriki led the way, over rubble and around ruins, and twice they had to traverse channels to the next islet: Pohatu bridged the first with a makeshift slab, and Kopaka iced over the second long enough for them to cross. Overhead, the light of dome reached its zenith, an almost-daylight white buzz, and then began to wane again toward night.

"Look, I'm not a historian or a Turaga either--I don't know the whole history of the Matoran Empire, but since you're all so clueless, I guess I should try and explain: by the time I was made, our civilization had stood for thousands of years, covering all lands in this hemisphere, from the northernmost fingers of the right arm to the distant toes of southern legs. I don't know how much is left now, since the Cataclysm when Metru Nui was buried, but it was past its days of greatest power and glory. It was no longer united: all Matoran working for a single Great Spirit, but islands had become isolated. There were wars before my time--great ones--that roiled the whole Empire, but they didn't teach that to a simple Matoran like me, at least not on Forma Nui, where I was made."

"You were a Matoran?" interjected Lewa. "As small-little as Jaller?"

"You don't remember being Matoran?" Voriki was genuinely surprised, turning mid-stride to see if Lewa could really be as earnest as he sounded, and saw instead that all six of them were looking at him with equal surprise.

"We have never been Matoran," said Tahu.

"Your Turaga--you mentioned them--they never told you either?" asked Voriki. "That is what Toa are: Matoran who have been gifted a unique duty and special destiny, for the united benefit of all. You must have been Matoran once--even if you cannot recall."

"There was a lot of talk about unity, duty, and destiny," said Pohatu, "but I missed it if Onewa ever said anything about Matoran becoming Toa."

"That is not how the Turaga's legends were spun," said Kopaka, much more firmly.

"Every Toa I have ever known, or have ever heard of, was once a Matoran," said Voriki. "Just as every Turaga was once a Toa."

"Every Turaga?" echoed Gali. "Even ours, then?"

"They really never told you?" Voriki shook his head in disbelief. "I knew them once, Toa with the names you told me: Vakama, Nokama, Onewa, Matau, Nuju, and Whenua."

"They never mentioned you," said Pohatu.

"There is a lot they never mentioned, it seems," said Voriki, and there was something dry in his voice. "Well, you are Toa such as I have never seen, so perhaps you are different--but I was made as every other Toa was: granted a Toa Stone and transformed by its power. That was only a few months before the Cataclysm, before Metru Nui fell and all hope was extinguished.

"Metru Nui was once the capital of the empire, the centre of its trade routes, the hub of the cables and channels that ran between the islands and the continents. Even once things started falling apart, it was still the centre of the universe: a place of learning and beauty, and I came here as others had, seeking shelter within the sea-gates, but eventually it was besieged and overrun by the forces of the Makuta.

"I don't know if it was the same Makuta," Voriki forestalled the question. "Perhaps? Why not--I thought he had died in the Cataclysm, yet maybe he was only lost with the others--the Turaga you know."

"What was the Cataclysm?" asked Onua quietly.

"It was the end," said Voriki. "When the Makuta tried to take control of the Empire--putting himself in the place of the Great Spirit, the entire world revolted, and the earth shook, and Metru Nui was buried. For years thereafter, we didn't know how much of the former empire beyond had survived. It was better then--we had hope that the world beyond might have survived to thrive with the Makuta destroyed. Instead, when we finally made contact, we learned that a new evil had risen: The Shadowed One, whose reach extends through what's left of the Matoran Empire. He filled the void that was left when both Metru Nui and the Makuta were overthrown.

"So we struggle--the last remnants of Metru Nui--holding off the Dark Hunters that does his bidding and keeping back the dread things that have overgrown much of the city. And now a light has pierced the dome of our darkness, and you six have appeared, as if to save us."

"We thought Mata Nui had sent us to the island that shares his name," said Gali. "We belonged there, perfectly fitted to its elements, to its people."

"That island and its people are not some separate thing," said Voriki. "Those are Matoran of Metru Nui, those Turaga were Toa of Metru Nui. Those elements once governed this city."

"Still, the Great Spirit sent us there," said Pohatu.

"The Great Spirit is just a metaphor," said Voriki, "and since the Cataclysm, a dead metaphor. I thought I no longer had hope, but I've seen you in battle: without your great Kanohi, without tools. Who cares about Mata Nui? I'd sooner look to you than him, to Toa Mata than to Mata Nui."

[qipsir]

Environmental Impact

How much water and land (animal) agriculture takes up and how much greenhouse gas it emits

More than anything else, factory farming - especially animal agricultural - is the biggest contributor to climate change and drought. CO2 methane emissions from animals and the sheer amount of water it takes to sustain not just them but also to grow their food, it's insane.

If you're at all familiar with the "it takes a gallon of water to grow a single almond" argument, you're probably going to be surprised to find out that "In the US to produce one pound (1 lb, 0.4kg) of steak requires, on average, 1,799 gallons of water – for pork it is 576 gallons of water and for a pound of chicken it is 468 gallons of water." (The Cattle Site, confirmed by Animal Clock).

According to Our World In Data, 37% of the land in the world is reserved for agriculture. As of 2023, 3.20 billion (3,200,000,000) hectares are dedicated to animal agriculture.

A hectare is a unit of measurement equal to - 100,000 square meters - 2.47 acres For visual purposes, "FIFA standards for international matches dictate that the pitch can be between 0.62-0.82 hectares". A hectare is BIGGER than a football field, or roughly the size of an international rugby union field (1.008 hectares).

This means that of the world's land, about 7,904,000,000 (7 billion- 904 million) acres/320,000,000,000,000 (32 quadrillion) square meters alone are dedicated to animal agriculture alone.

Hi okay I'm going back to this after I already typed out everything else minus some hyperlinks because Cowspiracy's fact page has SO MUCH data I feel like I hit a jackpot so here's some more "fun" facts for you: - One cow makes use of 2-5 acres of land ^ (Oppenlander, Richard A. Food Choice and Sustainability: Why Buying Local, Eating Less Meat, and Taking Baby Steps Won’t Work. Minneapolis, MN: Langdon Street, 2013. Print.) (no link provided) - Animal agriculture has created over 500 nitrogen-flooded deadzones in our oceans - "Animal agriculture is the leading cause of species extinction, ocean dead zones, water pollution, and habitat destruction." (there were so many sources for this one that each word is a different hyperlink)

Greenhouse Gas emissions

(from Cowspiracy)

As of 2009, animal agriculture is responsible for 51% of worldwide greenhouse gas emissions - at least 32,000 million tons of CO2 annually, and 65% of human-related nitrous oxide emissions. Nitrous oxide is a greenhouse gas with "296 times the global warming potential of carbon dioxide, and which stays in the atmosphere for 150 years."

Cattle alone account for 150,000,000,000 (150 billion) gallons of methane every day. It is predicted that within 20 years, methane will do 25-100 times more damage than CO2 with 86 times the global warming potential.

"Emissions for agriculture projected to increase 80% by 2050." ("Global diets link environmental sustainability and human health". Nature. Vol. 515. 27 November 2014)

Water usage

According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), "According to a U.S. Geological Survey report, agriculture is a major user of ground and surface water in the United States, and irrigation accounted for 42 percent of the Nation’s total freshwater withdrawals in 2015."

Also from Cowspiracy: "Fracking (hydraulic fracturing) water use ranges from 70-140 billion gallons annually. [EPA 2011] [Research Journal of Recent Sciences 2015]" and animal agriculture consumes 34-76 trillion gallons annually.

Remember the gallon-for-an-almond point I brought up earlier? Check this out

1 gallon of milk = 1,000 gallons of water

1 pound of beef = 2,500 gallons

1 pound of eggs = 477 gallons

1 pound of cheese = almost 900 gallons

Private homes make up 5% of the water use America. Animal agriculture makes up 55% of water usage in America and 20-30% freshwater usage worldwide

In America, 56% of our water goes to growing feed for livestock and agriculture overall is responsible for 80-90% of our water consumption.

Conclusion

This site alone continues to cover the waste produced, the damage done to our oceans, rainforests, and overall wildlife, all with cited sources for their claims. I don't currently have the energy or focus to go through them all and a handful of them are no longer active, but seriously. Cowspiracy's sources are absolutely worth checking out.

[merv606]

[silverusso] even though they've been together for a while, daniel never loses his shyness during sexytimes when terry wants to claim every part of his body, and then survey what he's done to danny afterwards. but terry finds daniel's shyness in the bedroom absolutely adorable and charming. he can never get enough of making daniel blush furiously over their intimacy, or what terry wants to do to him. in fact, that sweet, perpetual innocence (even during the hot, dirty sex) is something that eternally turns him on. he also likes to tease daniel to get to ask what he wants from terry, just to see the boy's red face and have him stumble over the pleading words.

terry's always showy and possessive, and while daniel's not shy by nature, he does turn bashful when they're out in public and terry wants to be a bit more open with him. even an arm around the waist, or a kiss dropped on the top of his head has daniel flushing.

terry can't get enough, he's too cute, especially because daniel has no idea the effect he has on terry.

Ahhh you woke up and choose violence

This idea is a personal fav of mine.

Acts like a Blushing virgin but goes to whore in less than sixty when Terry is giving it to him (but is embarrassed about it all the same).

Delicious.

Love Terry looking at Daniel’s pretty little fucked open hole after he’s done with it (although that’s never for long) and telling Daniel exactly what it looks like.

Dirty talk.

Daniel’s reactions to first time positions - especially ones that are more adventurous (he’s gotten a lot more flexible under Terry’s tutelage)

The first time Terry sits Danny on his lap and watches him furiously blush his way through riding Terry - rolling his hips, circling them until he finds the angle that works.

How he starts bouncing in Terry’s lap, no finesse or technique, just frantic with pleasure.

Maybe at first he tries to lean back so Terry can’t see his chest - he’s thin but he carries some softness around his nipples and Terry has taken to calling them tits, which Daniel protests, even though it confuses and turns him on in equal measure.

Terry of course hones in on that - hones in on anything that embarrasses and turns his boy on - Terry has no such hang ups - he’s known hell so he’ll take his pleasure however he bloody well wants - no shame.

So he tells Daniel how much he loves it - watching his cute tits bounce - at one point telling him how much he loves his boy’s little bee stings.

“They’re tiny and cute like you.”

Terry ends up with his hands on Danny’s hips,hard enough to bruise forcing him up and down more roughly than need be just to maximize the jiggle of them.

At this point he tells Daniel to touch them for him - anything that Daniel wants but seems shy or guilty for liking - Terry is like a dog with a bone - he will fuck it out of him.

“Feels good - doesn’t it?”

“Small but sensitive.”

“Baby you know daddy likes to watch those pretty little tits bounce so stop trying to cover them.”

Terry siting his boy on his col in his lap, latching on as Daniel rocks back and forth - coming just form Terry’s cock in his ass and mouth on his tits.

Terry pushing more and more boundaries - maybe introducing more kinks to his boy.

“Where do you want it baby?!”

“Terry, please.”

“Daniel ….”

“Don’t make me say it please,” little tease grinding against Terry’s cock - hoping to get what he wants without asking for it like Terry wants.

An iron grip on his hips - a warning.

“Inside,” he says, hoping it’s enough - knowing it’s not. Hoping Terry won’t make him say it - hoping he will,

“Inside where?”

“My ass?”

A chuckle from the older man.

“Try again sweetheart.”

“Terry please don’t ….”

A hand on his chin, forcing him to look at Terry, just shy of not friendly.

“Tell daddy where you want his cock. You know you have to tell daddy what you want and if you do daddy gives it to you.”

“Pussy,” he whispers, barely audible, so that Terry had to strain to hear it.

Terry wraps a hand around Daniel’s throat, and squeezes slightly and Daniel swallows thickly around the pressure, Terry feeling it.

“Try again.”

“My pussy.”

“Fuck Terry groans as he slowly unzips his pants. The sound audible in the quiet of the room.

“I …..,” he stammers, “I want your cock inside my pussy.”

“Good boy,” Terry praises, proceeding to give his beautiful boy exactly what he asked for.

Sometimes it’s a very good thing he doesn’t know what he does to Terry - the power he has over the older man - Terry may not survive.

His obsession and need for Daniel already stronger than anything.

The out in public - Terry pulling him into his lap at a fancy restaurant - he’s rented out the entire VIP section.

Sometimes he likes to show off his boy and sometimes his boy and all his loveliness is for his eyes only.

Daniel protests, “Terry. Where’s out in public.”

“So?” And he wraps a hand around his squirming boy’s midsection, Daniel doesn’t move without Terry’s say so.

He gives in, like he always done, face burning and cock hard as Terry hand feeds him the expensive appetizers.

Of course when they’re out he’s always next to Daniel, hand on the small of his back, guiding him, hand on his arm, or standing close enough that there’s no space between them.

A hand on his wrist as he walks ahead leading Daniel.

As arm around his waist, long fingers curled into the soft mode section,

Holding his hand, pressing a light kiss to his cheek mouth or head.

Generally letting everyone know Daniel is his.

Daniel just ducks his head down, embarrassed, flustered but pleased.

Still not believing that a man like Terry Silver likes little old him.

I wonder how long it takes before Terry combines the two and fucks him in public - the bathroom of the fanciest restaurant maybe, or one night in the VIP.

Daniel is sitting in his lap - hearing a zipper being pulled down, trying to turn his head to see what Terry is up to.

“Terry?”

“Shhhh,” he says, before Daniel feels a large hand wrap around and the button on his own pants being opened.

So quick he barely has time to protest before they’re pulled down enough to expose his ass, Terry opening his own fly just enough to get his own cock out and into him.

Daniel should have known better / when Terry had slide the plug into him in the shower as they got ready for their evening out.

It’s discreet as can be / for this first time anyway - he lets Daniel’s bite him lip to stop his pretty noises - normally Terry wants him as loud as possible - takes him slow and gentle.

Eventually though, like everything with Terry / the man is the epitome of a slippery slope - when they do this, he ends up bent over the table, pants pooled around his ankles, legs locked apart as Terry fucks into him, not allowed to muffle his screams.

“Don’t worry baby,” Terry says as he presses in, one long sharp thrust home, “everyone has been paid for their discretion.”

[handeaux]

Remembering The Long-Forgotten Clermont County Gold Rush Of 1868

Byron Williams, who published the exhaustive 1913 history of Clermont and Brown counties in Ohio, spares not a single word in his two-volume epic for the gold rush of 1868. Perhaps this is understandable.

Compared to the renowned California Gold Rush of 1849, the Clermont County gold rush of 1868 was hardly noticeable outside a handful of incurable optimists. Oh, there was gold in the creeks east of Cincinnati, it is true. There’s still gold there and it is easily found. The problem is, it takes a lot more time, money and effort to get that gold out than it is commercially worth – even at the lofty prices gold has claimed since it was deregulated in 1975. The economic futility of Ohio gold was summarized as early as 1873 in the report of Ohio State Geologist Edward Orton:

“From what has already been said, it will be seen that Clermont County has no monopoly of the gold-bearing formation of Ohio. This formation should be named the ‘Drift gold field,’ rather than the ‘Clermont County gold field.’ All of the counties of southwestern Ohio certainly share in its treasures, and without doubt one locality is as good as another, where gravels are found that have been washed from the bowlder clay. The best results thus far known to have been obtained in gold-mining in Ohio are reported for Warren county, where in one day gold to the value of six dollars was obtained – by an outlay of ten dollars; a half-dozen days’ work being also thrown in.”

Nevertheless, there are some folks for whom the gold fever never subsides, and Clermont County has been subjected to hard-working miners and unscrupulous fraudsters in approximately equal measures ever since. According to the Spring 1985 newsletter of the Ohio Geological Survey:

“Gold was first discovered in Clermont County on the farm of Robert Wood, near Elk Lick, on the banks of the East Fork of the Little Miami River. This site is now located on the north shore of William H. Harsha Lake at East Fork State Park.”

It is almost certain that any discovery of gold will attract equal numbers of hard-working miners and shady flim-flam men. Several stock companies were set up to finance gold-digging operations in Clermont County, but few paid dividends. The newspapers were full of breathless proclamations of easy riches. “Professor” J.W. Glass announced in the Ohio Statesman [21 September 1868]:

“I believe that were we supplied with an abundance of water for hydraulic purposes, our hills would pay equally well as those of California.”

Glass estimated that hand-panning would yield no more than fifty to seventy-five cents worth of gold in a day, while hydraulic mining could generate anywhere from twelve to fifteen dollars a day. A correspondent signing himself M. Jamieson informed the Cincinnati Gazette [31 August 1868]:

“Old California miners have prospected over a good portion of this field, and report gold in almost any ravine where they tried their luck. Those miners seem sanguine, and say they found no better diggings in California.”

Alas, such wishful appraisals never, shall we say, “panned out.” The Cincinnati Post [22 Januray 1897] echoed State Geologist Orton while taking an honest look at the situation:

“Every year or so some newspaper correspondent in Clermont County, Ohio, or some contiguous county sends a report of the discovery of gold and of mining enterprises for its recovery. These reports of gold in these counties are true. It has not been found to be minable, because it costs about $5 – in money and labor – to get out $1 in gold.”

That judgement didn’t prevent the Post from printing, just eight years later, a small feature on Clermont miner John Allen, who had dug a 200-foot tunnel into a hillside along Cabin Run Creek in an area known as Bear Hollow. Allen called his mine Paradise Gulch and worked it without ever striking the mother lode into the 1920s. His mine shaft is now collapsed.

Allen failed to find the source of the gold flakes extracted from nearby creeks because he misunderstood the local geology. Unlike California, where seams of gold up in the hills erode into flakes of placer gold in the streams, Ohio has only placer gold. The mother lode for Ohio’s gold is somewhere up in Canada and all the gold found here was dragged south by the glaciers that once blanketed our state.

Gold fever revived in the 1930s when the regulated value of the precious metal was boosted to $35 an ounce and so many men were out of work due to the Great Depression. A farmer named Robert Titus found a few gold flakes in a creek that ran through his farm and set up a company to exploit the find. Titus built a gasoline powered sluice that could sift a cubic yard of gravel and sand in less than an hour. According to the Ohio Geological Survey:

“Considerable excitement was created by this venture and Titus was reportedly offered financial backing and outright purchase of his 40-acre farm for $1,500 per acre. No commercial quantities of gold were ever produced from this deposit and most of the metal recovered was sold for souvenirs.”

Today, Clermont County prospectors are almost exclusively hobbyists. The Cincinnati Mineral Society has led occasional field trips to a tributary of Stonelick Creek since the 1960s, as has the Cincinnati Museum of Natural History and Science.

Still, the lure of gold fires the imagination. Michael Hansen of the Ohio Geological Survey recalled the heady days of gold speculation in the 1980s:

“In early 1980, when gold prices skyrocketed to more than $800 per ounce, the survey received up to 600 letters each week after newspaper articles across the state identified the Survey as the organization responsible for such matters in Ohio.”

[rjalker]

I literally did not click on this but okay.

Elon Musk’s new Twitter pronoun rule invites bullying, LGBTQ groups say

Musk made the comment in a reply to a complaint from Jeremy Boreing, the co-CEO of the conservative site The Daily Wire. Boreing, who was seeking to distribute a video opposed to trans rights but said Twitter had canceled a distribution deal, said he considered it a free speech issue to not be able to use pronouns that are different from the ones a trans person uses.

“It is definitely allowed,” Musk told Boreing. “Whether or not you agree with using someone’s preferred pronouns, not doing so is at most rude and certainly breaks no laws.”

Musk said Twitter employees who told Boreing otherwise had made a mistake.

In culture war battles online and off, using pronouns other than what someone prefers is a common way to bully trans people. Twitter banned the practice as part of its rule against degrading behavior or other hateful content until April, when the company’s new management under Musk quietly changed the rule without an official announcement. The rule had been in place since 2018.

. . .

Rodrigo Heng-Lehtinen, executive director of the National Center for Transgender Equality, said Musk’s tweet was disappointing.

“This will only increase hate speech that has harmed our community within social media spaces,” he said in a statement.

Heng-Lehtinen said lives may be at risk, citing a 2020 survey from The Trevor Project, an anti-suicide organization. Transgender and nonbinary youth who said that all or most people in their lives respect their pronouns attempted suicide at half the rate of those who did not have their pronouns respected, according to the survey.

[sh-vi]

Wednesday July 7th

Outskirts of Dramican, The Eryad

Time for it then. After months of surveying the area, Blue Planet has discovered the location of an immensely powerful relic called The Book of Thunder, dating back hundreds of years. Although none of our wizards can make use of its magic, it is equally important that we keep it out of the hands of the enemy: Changer and his cohort. The book is hidden at an old ritual site in what’s left of Dramican. The region was sacked ten years ago in the battles following Changer’s resurrection.

The Eryad has only become more dangerous in the years since, and we’ll unlikely make out of the area unmolested if the rumors are to be believed.

Tomorrow we break camp and rendezvous with a detachment from Blue Planet, the arcologist-knights responsible for the capture and disposal of interwar artifacts like these. our mission is to make a path for BP who’ll swoop in to recover the book once we secure the area.

[sivavakkiyar]

“Ramakrishna said the report on Keeladi is the “first of its kind in Tamil Nadu” and took a year to complete. He had begun documentation work in December 2021 with a core group of 10 members comprising archaeologists, experts, draughtsmen, and photographers.

Nearly 6,000 artefacts were unearthed during the first two phases of the Keeladi dig, which the excavation report termed as a “unicultural” site. The report details how Keeladi became an urban centre due to a slow and steady growth in rice production, which also increased internal and external trade and commerce activities. The settlement was also an animal-based economy focused on cattle (cows and bulls), buffalo, sheep, and goats, dated between the 8th century before common era and the 3rd century common era.

According to Ramakrishna, the lack of detailed reports of previous excavations has posed difficulties in documenting Tamil Nadu’s historical record, for instance, in fixing dates. He said the Sangam Period is dated to 300 before common era to 300 common era, based on literary references but archaeology can authenticate these literary references. “It is important to excavate sites, but it is equally important to document everything”, Ramakrishna told Scroll. ​“

[kushitworld]

Offer Tips And Guidance For Aspiring Web Developers

Web Development Career Advice: Offer tips and guidance for aspiring web developers, including learning resources, career paths, and job market insights. 

Web development is an exciting and dynamic field that offers countless opportunities for aspiring developers. Whether you’re just starting your journey or looking to advance your career, this article provides valuable advice and guidance to help you thrive in the world of web development.

1. Learn Continuously

Web development is constantly evolving, with new technologies, frameworks, and best practices emerging regularly. To stay relevant and competitive, it’s essential to commit to lifelong learning. Here are some tips:

Online Courses: Platforms like Udemy, Coursera, edX, and Codecademy offer a wide range of web development courses, from beginner to advanced levels.

Documentation and Tutorials: Read documentation and follow tutorials for the technologies you’re interested in. Official documentation is a valuable resource.

Books: Invest in web development books that cover fundamental concepts and provide in-depth knowledge on specific topics.

Online Communities: Join developer forums, participate in discussions, and ask for help when needed. Sites like Stack Overflow and GitHub are great places to start.

2. Choose Your Path

Web development offers various career paths. To determine which one aligns with your interests and goals, consider the following options:

Frontend Developer: Focuses on the visual aspects of websites, including HTML, CSS, and JavaScript.

Backend Developer: Works on server-side development, handling databases, servers, and business logic.

Full-Stack Developer: Manages both frontend and backend, offering a comprehensive understanding of web development.

Specialized Roles: Consider roles like mobile app development, DevOps, or UI/UX design, which require specific skills.

3. Build a Strong Portfolio

A portfolio is your professional identity. It showcases your skills, projects, and capabilities to potential employers or clients. Here’s how to create an impressive portfolio:

Include Diverse Projects: Showcase a variety of projects that highlight your versatility and expertise.

Keep It Updated: Regularly add new projects and skills to your portfolio.

Detail Your Process: Explain the problem, solution, and technologies used in each project.

Share Your Code: Provide links to GitHub or other version control repositories to demonstrate your coding skills.

4. Gain Practical Experience

While learning theory is essential, practical experience is equally crucial. Here’s how to gain hands-on experience:

Freelance Work: Take on freelance projects to apply your skills in real-world scenarios.

Open Source Contributions: Contribute to open-source projects to collaborate with experienced developers and improve your skills.

Internships: Internships provide valuable industry experience and the chance to learn from professionals.

5. Networking

Building a strong professional network can open doors to job opportunities and collaborations. Here’s how to network effectively:

Attend Meetups and Conferences: Participate in web development events to meet like-minded individuals.

Online Communities: Join forums, Slack groups, and social media channels dedicated to web development.

LinkedIn: Create a professional LinkedIn profile to connect with industry peers and potential employers.

6. Stay Informed About the Job Market

Web development job trends can vary by region and industry. Stay informed about the job market by:

Research: Explore job postings on various job boards to understand employer expectations and trends in your area.

Consult Industry Reports: Industry reports and surveys provide insights into in-demand skills and salary trends.

7. Soft Skills Are Important

In addition to technical skills, soft skills like problem-solving, communication, and teamwork are highly valued by employers. Cultivate these skills to become a well-rounded developer.

Conclusion: Your Journey to Web Development Success

Web development is a dynamic and rewarding field, offering opportunities for those with passion and determination. By continuously learning, building a strong portfolio, gaining practical experience, networking, and staying informed about the job market, you can embark on a successful web development career.

Remember that success in web development requires commitment and persistence. Keep learning, adapt to changes, and stay passionate about creating innovative web solutions. With dedication, you can thrive in this exciting and ever-evolving industry.

Source:

[ausetkmt]

Barbados Announces Creation Of A Transatlantic Slavery Museum - Travel Noire

Fresh off the country’s status as the world’s newest republic, Barbados is breaking ground on a transatlantic slavery museum with the largest collection of British slave records outside the United Kingdom.

Prime Minister Mia Amor Mottley announced the creation of the Barbados Heritage District, which includes a “memorial, a major global research institute, and a museum located in Newton Plantation outside the country’s capital, dedicated to accurately recounting the historic and contemporary impact of slavery on Barbados and on the lives of individuals, cultures, and nations of the Western hemisphere.”

The first phase of the project will be the Newton Enslaved Burial Ground Memorial. This monument will serve as a tribute to the country’s enslaved ancestors and provide an avenue to remember and honor those impacted by the effects of forced migration. The development is expected to be a catalyst for significant job growth across multiple industries.

“Barbados is authentically enshrining our history and preserving the past as we reimagine our world and continue to contribute to global humanity,” said Mottley in a statement. “It is a moral imperative but equally an economic necessity.”

David Adjaye, who has been commissioned to design the project, shared his vision for the Barbados Heritage District.

“Drawing upon the technique and philosophy of traditional African tombs, prayer sites, and pyramids, the memorial is conceived as a space that contemporaneously honors the dead, edifies the living, and manifests a new diasporic future for Black civilization that is both of the African continent and distinct from it.”

At the inauguration of Barbados’ new president Dame Sandra Mason, who replaced the Queen as head of state, Prince Charles acknowledged the UK’s role in Barbados’ grim beginnings.

“From the darkest days of our past, and the appalling atrocity of slavery, which forever stains our history, the people of this island forged their path with extraordinary fortitude,” he said. “Emancipation, self-government, and independence were your way-points. Freedom, justice, and self-determination have been your guides. Your long journey has brought you to this moment, not as your destination, but as a vantage point from which to survey a new horizon.”

[nspiresoft]

Backlinks and everything you need to know about them!

It is really a valid question as it's quite easy to get bemused between the likes of inbound links, incoming links, and backlinks and think that they're totally unlike one another, when in reality they're all pretty similar to one another.

In this article, we are mostly going to talk about each and everything that you should know about backlinks, so that our beloved readers can begin your SEO journey without hesitation.

Let's get started!!

What is a backlink?

The basic and most simple definition of backlink is that it's a simple link from any web page, web directory or a website on the Internet to your site.

In simple words, if any other website links to your website, it's called a backlink.

It is an important aspect of Digital Marketing.

How can backlinks affect your SEO?

Backlinks are known to be one of the 200 ranking factors followed by Google and have a very adverse effect on your SEO. However, the fact of the matter is that not all backlinks cannot be treated equally. Because a good and high quality backlink is always going to be way better than a normal or a generic one. A good, quality inbound link is the one that directly targets your area of interest or niche.

Also backlinks are pretty much important to SEO as all of the search engines look towards the backlinks as a show of respect or confidence towards your content, which further helps your site to rank higher on search engines.

So if a lot of sites start linking back to yours, search engines will more often than not give your content a forward push helping it to rank better in the search results.

Why are backlinks important from Google's standpoint?

Now that basics are done for, let's dive a bit deeper and understand why backlinks are considered important from Google's standpoint. So, for the starters the Google search engine uses backlinks as a medium which helps to improve your sites ranking.

Also, backlinks are known to have the most effect on site rankings.

Benefits of using backlinks:

Helps sites to gain faster indexing.

Improves ranking over all the search engines.

Spreads brand awareness.

Increases domain authority.

Brings referral traffic for monetization.

What is a quality backlink?

Quality backlinks play a very crucial role when it comes to growing your website. A high quality backlink is considered to be the one that's highly reputable, natural and highly relevant.

Also a quality backlink comes from a high domain authority website which is well-trusted not just by search engines but also by searchers.

The highest quality of backlinks are known to be the ones that use relevant keywords within the anchor texts of the links.

How to get backlinks to your website?

Listed below are the few strategies to help you generate valuable backlinks for your website.

 Create attractive content.

Creating creative and attractive content on your blog is one of the most underrated techniques. Creating content that's good for attracting backlinks, as well as improving the time that users spend on the website which indirectly improves your SEO.

Other than posting long form content, other things you can do is perform surveys, publish data that's statistically true and the list goes on and on.

Basically all you have to do is make your content so attractive and so unique that people can't resist linking their sites to yours.

Do guest posting.

Every serious blogger at least once in their life for sure does guest posting. Basically guest posting is like a barter system in which you publish a post on someone else's blog in exchange for some backlinks to your site.

Backlinks play a crucial role in growing your website.

One of the most important strategies to help your site rank on Google as well as other search engines is getting more and more backlinks.

Nevertheless, taking shortcuts as well purchasing spam networks, low quality directory links, cheap link services which promise to deliver a huge boost to your sites ranking is a huge no.

Whereas, publishing content that's high in quality, is interactive and helps to build relations with other sites from your niche and gain natural as well as high quality backlinks is a big yes.

While, backlinks is one of the most crucial part of SEO, there are still a lot of other things and aspects that one should know in order to grow their site, and at Nspiresoft we have everything that you need not just for generating high quality backlinks but also to scale your business.

Still have doubts regarding backlinks? Feel free to ask us in the comment section.

[quotesfrommyreading]

The researchers' scraper was used to determine whether a consent form met GDPR and eDirective requirements. The rules say consent must be explicit. So, for example, users must click a button rather than just hop straight through to the website; all aspects of consent must be equally easy to reject as to accept; and pre-ticked boxes are not allowed. 

Of the 10,000 websites scraped that used a CMP form, the researchers found that implicit consent is present on a third of websites. 

The researchers also found that CMPs make rejecting all tracking – which includes cookies and other techniques like browser and device fingerprinting that Firefox-maker Mozilla is trying to block by default – "substantially more difficult than accepting it". 

Microsoft and Apple are also trying to tackle third-party tracking in their respective Edge and Safari browsers. 

Just over half of websites in the survey don't even offer a 'reject all' button and only 12.6% of sites have a 'reject all' button that is just as easy to access as the 'accept all' button, for example, by placing both options on the same page.  

"Furthermore, when users went to amend specific consent settings rather than accept everything, they are often faced with pre-ticked boxes of the type specifically forbidden by the GDPR," the researchers wrote. 

On top of all this, the researchers – and users too – have no idea whether toggling on or off a specific category of tracking actually produces the intended result for the user. The median number of third-party trackers that data is shared with on sites is a whopping 315 vendors.   

The end result of hiding the 'reject all' option is that people overwhelmingly choose to 'accept all'. 

"The results of our empirical survey of CMPs today illustrates the extent to which illegal practices prevail, with vendors of CMPs turning a blind eye to – or worse, incentivizing – clearly illegal configurations of their systems," the researchers conclude.

  —  Cookie consent: Most websites break law by making it hard to 'reject all' tracking