#the hot old rat gang is here

[sallllltywater]

⚓️CLAN SKURVY officers

-Captain Cannonshot-

-First mate, Hookpaw-

-Quartermaster, Fekiz Powder-

-Heal-rat, Sawbones-

[snackugaki]

...visdev really is my enrichment activity for i am just a bored tiger in my enclosure, looking to figure out how to get this steak out of this metal ball.

________

my tmnt au (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt au part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

tmnt au omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

lny visit 1 | 2

also uhhh... i guess still idw, next mutation, and like 1 mirage spoiler? mostly for the kids who haven’t but were planning to read/watch

you’re about to perceive so much

p r e p a r e

so close to getting this AU looking as crunchy as i want it, almosttttt tttthhhhhere...!

just somewhere tasty between Mignola’s use of deep black shadow, what MTV Liquid Television woulda greenlit re: The Maxx, a dash of 2007, 1 part Next Mutation, 2 parts funny proportions

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh str ugglingggg

Leo’s shortest because haha (family baby gang, get rekt)

this is so much thought for something I’m just doing to give these turtle ninjas some softness and the genx/millenial pop culture references gag comics

Splinter is full of ghosts

(specifically the onryo borne from the murdered Yoshi Hamato and Tang Shen [because oroku saki a bitch])

[ redacted ] and Tang Shen’s ghost gained control and guided Splinter to raise the boys in love and not [ redacted ] to [ redacted ] in [ redacted ]

Splinter was just a regular little rat... who on his 1000th birthday witnessed the death of his friend/unwitting master and his wife, and thus transformed into a wrathful kyūso (minus the kitten eating) and chased Shredder until losing his trail in New York

Shredder’s fuck around and Splinter’s rampaging as the find out caused the tengu to repo some of the mysticism from ninjutsu

now all the (remaining) ninja clans debuffed and mad about it

The tengu bestowed the ninja the ability to summon shit (kuchiyose), enact mystical effects upon people and objects (kuji kiri), going invisible, minor flight (actually just qinggong/light body technique), and manipulation of the 5 elements, and creating doubles (bunshin)

but again, Shredder fucked up so now ninja can like barely control anything bigger than a lit torch or a 16 oz bottle of liquid and that’s if you got in enough hours to do even that

I mentioned elsewhere but for me in any AU I make, Venus is a cultivator and the more I think about it the more I will die on this hill, not only does it fit better than her being a “shaman” or “shinobi” it’s sick as fuck

Jennika’s origin was pretty fkkn metal, she still falls in with the Foot, gets shanked, Leo gives blood-- bam, turtle time

Jennika goes to hang with Venus in China and get a better understanding of her new turtle body

Keno’s here, still tried to infiltrate the Foot (with Jennika) but bugged out when she couldn’t stay without being made (Jennika refused to leave womp)

teaches Leo some arnis techniques for Leo’s dual wielding; Donnie also just in case his bo is shattered... again. :)

Irma has made all the boys blush at least twice

Irma is also soap opera buddies with Splinter

they meet up at least twice a month to gab, gush, and groan over what’s currently going on in their stories, when Venus visits she also joins in, Irma also has a conversational grasp on Japanese and Venus’ regional dialect because of these visits

April has a full out shoujo manga romance with Chu Hsi

and he’s a hot dragon prince uhuhuhuhuhu

Irma is privy to all the steamy details

keeping Leo and Karai as character foils

both received scars from one another

both released each other from sealing wards from [ redacted ]

now they just meet every so often to eat the greasiest fast food and unclench of an hour

Raph still gets his ass worked by Ninjara, folded like an omelette sat on a lawn chair

Vam Mi is also here, she’s fought first (because honestly she should’ve been either brought in earlier in the season or had a few more episodes because that shit coulda resolved better)

Venus is brought to NYC for this antagonist instead of Dragonlord escaping (and murdering her father figure forcing her to seek out his friend Splinter for aid)

Donnie doesn’t take the news of real vampires or real magic well

Donnie and Venus have a knock down drag out fight over it (because they’re 17 at this point and being li’l shits to each other about their respective fields of expertise)

“The nerds are fightingggggg!” cries Mikey, Leo and Raph don’t believe it so imagine their surprise when they get a demo in real time on how scary competent staff fighters are

Leo gets Splinter when one of Donnie’s missed strikes cracks the concrete

Splinter breaks them up like talking a walk in the park and it’d be comical if they both weren’t bleeding from the mouth and peppered with swelling contusions

Venus begins accepting Donnie when his tech prevents her from becoming a thrall of Vam-Mi

Donnie begins accepting Venus when she uses a massive amount of chi to manipulate gravity just before he becomes street pizza when Vam-Mi throws him off a bridge

they also combine skill sets to save Mikey so there’s that

Venus goes from calling Donnie, “Horatio (derogatory)” to “Horatio (affectionate)”

they now have a dumbass long-as-fuck handshake that’s unforgivably nerdy 

April is still a magic drawing-brought-to-life baby, Venus puts her in a painted scroll when she starts phasing in and out of existence (she and Chu Hsi have a great time in the scroll... while everyone is shitting bricks until Venus and her sect stabilize her and get her made real, Pinocchio style)

April’s grandmothers gifted Venus 2 pieces of jade jewelry, and her family’s recipe for sweet potato pudding respectively for saving April

the boss fight against Dragonlord is dope as fuckkkkk, Chu Hsi is being cool as fuck, fiddled with some concepts* that has Leo and Karai being a champion of Genbu, Raph for Byakko, Mikey for Suzaku, Chu Hsi’s retainer (a good dragon, wink wonk) steps in for Seiryu because Donnie and Venus are siphoning and redirecting an enormous amount and variety of mystical power

*i’m just pulling from fushigi yugi honestly

splinter, the boys, and venus (and others) mutating from mutagen laced toxic waste was a pure accident

Splinter was investigating a lead on Shredder’s movements concerning the Foot the same night an animal liberation sleeper cell ‘freed’ some animals from the back of a pet store (that was a front for black market domestic and exotic animal trafficking) that is also the same night a stolen truck driven by some corporate spies filled with a competitor’s chemical waste, which then collides with said liberation sleeper cell’s truck and... ooze happens

Leatherhead, the Mutanimals, Mondo, Mona Lisa, Slash also get mutated from the events of that night, either leading up to or following the aftermath

plus some others etc etc

Venus still washes down the gutter, gets rube goldberg pinballed onto a crate of plums where Chung I finds her and still gets named Mei and taken to live in China and eventually learns to cultivate

Tokka and Rahzar get made, and unmade ala TMNT II; the mutagen made them a little silly tho, April adopts Rahzar and passes him off as a low content wolfdog, Leatherhead takes in Tokka

April went through a couple of major changes so now she’s a journalist with a computer programming background who now does a podcast as an informal neighborhood news reporter with a segment for chatting with people from around the street

Mikey’s the most frequent guest and co-hosts sometimes; Donnie troubleshoots free of charge

Venus brings her province’s regional delicacies when she comes to visit, Splinter and Leo both get pu er tea cakes (she managed to get one the same age as him; Splinter is too old so she got the oldest she could find, Leo has so many tea pets and a nice yixing collection); Raph, Keno, and Casey fight over the pickles, meat jerkies, and chili oil; Mikey has an artillery of cool shirts and a lifetime supply of haw flakes, Donnie has a mountain of doodads with increasingly specific uses, April gets neat accessories and the occasional care package sent with Venus from her grandparents, uncles, and aunties; Irma gets neat frames and coats that never fail to get a “Where did you get that??”

Raph rides a Kawasaki Ninja because it’s funny

A lot of bodegas give Mikey free snacks because the bodega cats love him, and he’s also saved some from being run over or ripped apart by stray dogs or the few large angry raccoons

Donnie’s the only one of his brothers to wear both a top and bottom with shoes because once he figured out how to integrate a motherboard and miscellany wiring onto clothing... he’s been a walking computing menace ever since

Splinter does his best to enjoy his time with his sons (because as a kyūso, he knows the chances of outliving his precious sons is very high (ᴗ‿ᴗ✿)  ...give or take one of the many opponents and obstacles his sons take on takes him out first ( ◕ᴗ◕✿ ) )

god whathefuck, I was just going to make silly comics for them. how did it come to this.

[thebluestbluewords]

and soon it’ll be spring

testing out some character voices. Set in a vague future timeline, fandom-typical discussions of child abuse.

+

Carlos hasn't seen his mother in years. Hasn't spoken to her since he left the isle. There's phones, and computers, and mail service to the isle, and sometimes the reception even works now, but he hasn't reached out. 

Evie sends letters to her mother sometimes. She addresses them to her old castle, encloses herbs and chocolate and eyeshadow. She doesn't read the responses that come back, but her mother sends them anyway, and Evie keeps sending her packages even though she can't bear to see whatever her mother has to say back to her. 

Carlos can't even do that. 

He's a bad son, probably. An ungrateful brat. Useless. Worthless. His mother could have drowned him as a baby, killed him like an unwanted puppy, and they'd all have been better off without the bother. He's been a bad son since he was born. Weak. A vulnerability. 

He breathes, keeps his voice steady. "Yup. That." 

Diego moves in a flurry of violent motion. He's facing away, towards the river, but Carlos still has to suppress the urge to flinch. Diego wears heavy boots, steel-toes even though he's never been in a real factory in his life, and every Isle kid's seen the damage they can do. 

The rock he kicked goes flying into the river. 

"Fuck." his cousin snaps. "Fuck! I remember that." 

Carlos can't laugh, but there's a sort of bubbling fear that's catching in his throat, and he can let some of it out. "Hah. Yeah. Um, I sort of — I cried a lot, that summer? It was hot and awful and you wouldn't come by the house, and I wasn't allowed to be at yours, so we started looking for a better hideout that year. D'you remember when Ivy found that place by the forest—" 

"—the one with the metal roof, where we got trapped by Kaa and you rigged a crossbow out of guitar strings." Diego finishes. "Fuck. I knew we found a new hideout that year, but I thought it was 'cause we got those drums for Sierra and couldn't keep them quiet down in the warehouse." 

Carlos shrugs. He's always been the little one, the tag-along. Diego's gang didn't tell him anything when he was a kid, and they still don't really talk. He's magicam friends with Sierra and Ivy, but Mia won't even accept his follow request. They didn't want him then, they don't want him now, and it's not even really a sore point anymore. He's got his own pack. No teenagers really want a little kid hanging around them, especially a kid who's already showing that he's a weak point.  "Might'a been. I dunno." 

"Nah, it was 'cause dad didn't want you hanging around the house anymore," Diego says firmly, shaking his head. "We found a new place so you'd have somewhere to go'n hide when your mom went ballistic. You were tiny, y'know."

It's sort of a logical leap, but sort of not.

 "I'm still short." Carlos points out. "You don't feel compelled to protect me now, right?" 

"Hah. Hah. Very funny, nerd." 

"I'm just saying—”He ducks the hand that shoots out to scrub his hair into a rat's nest. Score one for Isle kid instincts. "I'm say-ing," Carlos continues, undeterred. "That you didn't have to protect me back then. I could've taken care of myself." 

"You were a kid." 

"And you were what, twelve? Thirteen?" 

"Older," Diego says firmly. He's still looking out towards the water. "Old enough to protect my baby cousin." 

"Mom didn't kill me. I'm still here." 

Diego's arms are smooth and unmarked by the round cigarette burns that cover Carlos's arms, hands, chest, belly. Anywhere he was soft, she liked to burn. 

"She could've," Diego rasps out. "She almost did. I wasn't big enough to stop her."

"The spell—”

"FUCK THE SPELL." he shouts. Too loud. People are looking at them. People in Auradon love to stare and judge VKs, even when they're dressed just like anyone else in the city, but shouting was a reason to stare even back home. 

Diego notices, and drops his arms down, swinging the cup in his hand back and forth like a melting pendulum of coffee and sugar.  "Fuck it," he repeats, quieter. "If Auradon wanted us alive so bad, they should've put in the work themselves instead of relying on the barrier to keep bouncing us back." 

Carlos lifts one shoulder in agreement. He's pretty sure that the spell does a lot more than just keep them in their bodies, what with the healing factor and the way it won't kick you back in unless you've got a body to go back to, but it's a solid enough argument if you don't go into specifics. Claudine and the religious types at Dragon Hall had a whole rant on tap about how the barrier was being used to bounce their souls out of their path to heaven, so that they'd rejoin their bodies again and keep them alive even longer, but thinking about the concept of souls makes Carlos feel an emotion that Mal calls "stabbing" and Jay calls "a working bullshit sensor." Evie calls it "a rational emotional response to religious guilt-tripping bullshit", which sounds better than stabbing, but like, the point still stands that souls aren't real and listening to Claudine's lecture about them makes Carlos feel mostly doubtful, and also sort of like he's a shitty person. Which is probably the point of religion.

"S'not really bouncing," he says quietly, keeping his voice low and face turned down. People stare less if they're not obviously talking to each other, because Auradon has different standards for communication and watching VKs shout-talk directly at each other makes people stare. "It's not like we ever really die."

Diego levels a flat look at him. 

"Okay, yeah, they should've put more work into keeping us alive," Carlos agrees, because it's true. Auradon locked them up and threw away the key, and didn't even bother to check on their island of villains once they'd settled down from the initial bloodshed and power scrambles. "But the scientific basis for being bounced back into our bodies by the spell just isn't there. If they're using the barrier to trap our souls or whatever in an impenetrable bubble, then how're new souls getting in for the kids born on the Isle? If it's a true closed system it doesn't make sense. And I know--" He sucks in a breath before Diego can get a word in edgewise, because he knows. The souls aren't the point. The magic isn't even the point. "It doesn't matter how they're keeping us there so long as there's still kids starving and being killed on that rock. I know. But I can't push the wheels of government any faster, because I'm not the fucking king, or a representative, or anything. I'm a testimony at best,and it's not like being born on the Isle gives me the power to do anything about it."

Diego snorts. "Wow, you can't fix twenty years of systematic disenfranchisement on your own? Call the presses, my genius cousin can't fix something in five years that took twenty to break in the first place." 

The guilt that lives in the place where other people keep their feelings swirls up in Carlos's chest again. "I could've tried." 

"In between what, surviving high school? Petitioning the king to listen to us? 'Cause it seems like we're a lot further than we'd've been without your crew's work." 

"I built a machine to break the barrier," Carlos tells the river. "Back home. Before we left. It nearly worked." 

Diego kicks another rock into the river. "I know." 

Carlos feels his heart stutter-stop. "You—what?" 

"I know," Diego repeats. "You built shit all the time. You'd talk about it in your sleep. I stopped by that treehouse of yours one time, and you had the whole thing torn apart. You were talking to your crew about it. I listened for a while."

"When?"

The cold bottom of his cousin's coffee cup bonks into Carlos's skull. "Before you left, genius. I dunno. You didn't have it working yet."

"I thought I was being sneaky about that."

"You were. I'm just sneakier. If you'd been reverse engineering the whole barrier, you'd've built it better right?" 

"I would've given us the dignity of dying, if that's what you're asking." 

"Yeah." Diego says quietly, and then. "Fuck. That's morbid." 

Carlos shrugs. Maybe thinking about better ways to die makes them morbid, but it's still comforting to think that if he'd been the one to engineer their prison, that he'd've been able to give them the mercy of actually dying. "We're villains. It's our speciality. We're supposed to be all about death, and murder, and stuff." 

Diego laughs. They laugh the same way, the two of them. More of a bark than a real laugh. There's probably some irony there, if they wanted to go digging for it. "Didn't you hear, little cousin? We're supposed to be good now. No more murder. We're reformed villains, no more claws and fangs." 

They're reformed, but Diego still calls at 3am sometimes, just to make sure that he's still breathing. 

"Damn, guess I'll have to return the axe I bought," Carlos drawls, hefting his cup up like it's a weapon. "And the rat poison, and the chains for the dungeon..." 

"Kinky." 

[navy-leader]

Latest episode enabled me so heres my cooking/eating habits headcanons for the sticks:

[Color Gang]

- Blue cooks the most (obvi) for the gang, the best cook all around

- Green does it the second most, hes the substitute when Blue is too busy

- Green's the type of cook to get really pissed at other people being in the kitchen when hes cooking

- Blue on the other hand doesnt mind company and help but he cant be responsible for what happens to them if they come uninvited

- Yellow is officially banned from cooking in the kitchen without supervision

- Yellow is often too distracted with working on things to the point where they forget to eat, the others often have to remind them

- Red likes baking more than cooking

- Second doesnt do it very often bc theres usually someone else doing it but hes pretty good at it

- Purple is a pretty good cook as well, though when he's low on energy he tends to whip up the weirdest fucking combinations of simple processed foods ever, though they somehow taste? Good?

- Overall the ones who eat the most are Red and Green, being gym rats they tend to burn a lot of energy pretty quickly

- Green drinks protein shakes 👍

- Red is a sweet tooth

[Hollowheads]

- Chosen and Dark when they lived together had a very "fulfilling what the other lacks" dynamic when they cooked

- Chosen has awful motor skills so hes pretty shit at cutting stuff up meanwhile Dark excelled on that

- Dark has no sense of temperature, having only fire powers so he tends to run hot and has a natural resistance to heat. So things are never hot enough for her and ends up burning their food more times than they can count

- Chosen on the other hand had more of a balance with his ice powers so he's better on that end

- They tried utilizing Chosen's laser eyes as a microwave at some point. Didnt work out.

- More than once did Chosen try using his fire breath to cook but swiftly gets reprimanded by Dark for "breathing on the food"

- Chosen's really lazy and would only eat simple foods unless someone drags him to cook something (that person being Dark)

- Those two only know simple recipes but its enough for them

- Victim has GOD AWFUL eating habits, similar to Chosen he'd just not eat anything but simple processed foods and often forgets to eat altogether. He really only eats if someone buys food for it/cooks for it

- Victim has never set foot in a kitchen ever and god knows what'd happen if it did

[AvM]

- Orchid had awful eating habits and made the weirdest food combinations and called it a meal. After getting with Cobalt she basically forced Orchid to learn how to cook properly so shes better now but every once in a while,,, old habits die hard

- Cobalt cooked for the household the most

- King was a decent cook, enough for him and Gold

- That is until Gold died, King didnt really took care of himself and ate very much, let alone cook. Probably takeout if he remembers

- Post-avm 30 hes getting better and tries cooking again every once in a while but yakno,,,depression

- Purple cooks for them when hes like that

[Mercenaries]

- None of them cook very often because theyre usually on the job so they tend to get takeout most the time

- When they get a chance to, Paleo and Warn are usually the ones to do it

- Pivot and Ballista are coffee drinkers

- They all drink protein shakes

[eminsunnytoons123]

The teppums Show gang characters!

Part 9, 10, 11 And 12!

Heres now the other four parts i made a week ago =^_^= And also this week i sorta changed when im excited to not Type in overly big letters And I have changed not to invade anyone's privacy, And i have became more polite but i still hope the blue haired auntie/bestie of mine And the other three friends of mine will unblock me And forgive me. =^///^= ♥️

Now some info about them:

Gem the Genie - gem the Genie is Mad monty's teppum counterpart, he is an arrogant, sarcastic, sorta rude, ignorant Genie in the teppums Show gang and Mayhem pirates gang, he is 27 years old like Mad Monty And he is bisexual. He is good friends with glemsom Sebastian And tough Draco, And he describes himself as: "the great Genie of all eternity", And he is from Arabia. He sometimes has friendly rivalry with Mad Monty And his gang. His headcanon voice actor is Orn Arnason, And his voice claim is Genie from lazytown.

Tough Draco - tough Draco is bad polly's teppum counterpart, he is an tough, rude, rough, mean pirate Monkey in the teppums Show gang and the mayhem pirates gang, he is 24 years old like bad Polly And he is pansexual. He makes an friendly rivalry with bad Polly And his gang, And he is best friends with gem the Genie And glemsom Sebastian. His headcanon voice actor is Roger Craig Smith, And his voice claim is Sonic the hedgehog from Sonic boom.

Glemsom Sebastian - glemsom Sebastian is clueless morgan's teppum counterpart, he is an friendly, forgetful, confused, sorta naive but sweet sloth Guy in the teppums Show gang and the mayhem pirates gang, he is 27 years old like clueless Morgan And he is bisexual. He is just as naive as clueless Morgan, And Sebastian is from denmark And "glemsom" in his name Means "forgetful". He makes a friendly rivalry with clueless Morgan And his gang. His headcanon voice actor is Matt Hill, And his voice claim is Ed from Ed, Edd And Eddy.

Alfred - alfred is waldorf's teppum counterpart, he is an friendly, heckling, sarcastic And sorta arrogant old Guy in the teppums Show gang, he is 59 years old like waldorf And he is bisexual, he is dating Chester. He likes to heckle And make fun of the teppums when they do their acts And Show, but he gets along with waldorf very well. His headcanon voice actor is Peter browgardt, And his voice claim is uncle grandpa from uncle grandpa.

Chester - Chester is statler's teppum counterpart, he is an sorta rude, arrogant, sarcastic And ignorant old Guy in the teppums Show gang, he is 60 years old like statler And he is bisexual, he is dating Alfred. He likes to make fun of the teppums when theyre doing their Show And acts, And he gets along with statler very well. His headcanon voice actor is Arthur Anderson, And his voice claim is the Modern voice of eustace Bagge from courage the cowardly dog.

Diana the mermaid - Diana the mermaid is Camilla chicken's teppum counterpart, she is an sweet, friendly, sarcastic, kind-hearted And polite mermaid Lady in the teppums Show gang, she is 24 years old like camilla And she is pansexual, she is dating Hector the brilliant. She is the only teppum that uses wheelchair because she has an mermaid tail And cant walk out the water without her wheelchair, And she does her cool wheelchair tricks, but Hector sometimes gets scared and worried when she does that. Her headcanon voice actress is Laura Bailey, And her voice claim is Lagoona Blue from Monster high.

Victoria the fennec Fox - Victoria the fennec Fox is yolanda the rat's teppum counterpart, she is an sarcastic, arrogant but an friendly, caring And kind fennec Fox Lady in the teppums Show gang, she is 19 years old like yolanda And she is bisexual And polyamourous, she is dating litvik the King cobra And quade the fennec Fox. She likes doing her makeup, baking cookies And cakes, jewelry... And her favorite colors are maroon, hot Pink And Purple. Her headcanon voice actress is Niccole Thurman, And her voice claim is squiddly diddly from jellystone!.

Sindy the verdin Bird - sindy the verdin Bird is Gloria estefan's teppum counterpart, she is an sweet, cute, friendly And playful verdin Bird in the teppums Show gang, she is probably 5 years old like Gloria estefan. She is one of madame camela's lovable And playful pets, sindy is from the dessert And she has an cute squeaky voice. Her headcanon voice actress is Tara strong, And her voice claim is Bubbles from the original powerpuff girls.

Raphael abadie - Raphael abadie is Lew Zealand's teppum counterpart, he is an sassy, friendly, geeky, polite Guy in the teppums Show gang, he is 26 years old like Lew Zealand And he is bisexual, he is dating insane Axel. He has his seahorse frisbees, And he is from Brooklyn And has an thick Brooklyn accent, sometimes others think he is from France due to a berret hat on his head. His headcanon voice actor is Kyle Rideout, And his voice claim is Vinnie from littlest pet shop.

Federico agosti - Federico agosti is Marvin suggs' teppum counterpart, he is an sassy, flirty, friendly And sarcastic Guy in the teppums Show gang, he is 28 years old like Marvin and he is bisexual. He has his murfies-murries, And they do the instrumental for him while he sings, but he sometimes gently taps them And thats their sign to start making the instrumental, And the murfies-murries have a squeaky accent like roly-pollies from sillyville And their gender is Unknown but they look like girls. He is from Italia And he has an thick italian accent, his headcanon voice actor is Tim whitnall, And his voice claim is Mr carburettor from roary the racing car.

Rodan the Diamond Giant - rodan the Diamond Giant is sweetums' teppum counterpart, he is an tough, sassy, sarcastic, arrogant And sorta scamming Giant in the teppums Show gang, he is 32 years old like sweetums And he is bisexual, he has a crush on Sir Matthew Rosa. He LOVES Diamonds And any Shiny Crystals like rubies, peridots, pearls... Etc. And even tho he looks scary, he IS actually a very sweet Monster. His headcanon voice actor is Kevin Micheal Richardson, And his voice claim is shredder from the 2012 teenage mutant ninja turtles.

Master Vincent - Master Vincent is uncle deadly's teppum counterpart, he is an spooky, sassy And sarcastic but also an sweet, peaceful And friendly komodo dragon Guy in the teppums Show gang, he is 56 years old like uncle deadly And he is pansexual. He likes peace And peaceful things, but he also likes anything spooky And paranormal, And he sometimes scares others And calls himself "the dragon of the teppums Show". He is even madame camela's best friend And professionalist in wardrobe. His headcanon voice actor is David Graham, And his voice claim is grandpa pig from peppa pig.

French hash slinger - french hash slinger is swedish chef's teppum counterpart, he is an friendly, kind, polite, sorta clumsy hash slinger in the teppums Show gang, he is 35 years old like swedish chef And he is bisexual. He makes delicious french meals And dishes. He has his eyes closed but he sometimes Opens them when he is surprised, shocked or scared. His headcanon voice actor is Peter O'Toole, And his voice claim is Anton Ego from ratatouille.

Daniil the dall sheep - Daniil the dall sheep is constantine's teppum counterpart, he is an rude, tough, arrogant, ignorant And evil dall sheep Guy in the teppums Show gang, he is 25 years old like Constantine And he is bisexual, he is dating Catherine the camel. He disguises as timrek by taking off his dall sheep Horns And putting it on timrek's head, he nearly looks like timrek but he has black gloves, black earring, black eyelids And timrek's clothes but with more darker colors. He is from russia And gets along with Constantine very well And gets ideas from him. His headcanon voice actor is Bryan Cranston, And his voice claim is Vitaly from madagascar 3: escape from Europe.

Henrietta sunflowera - Henrietta sunflowera is Mildred huxetetter's teppum counterpart, she is an sarcastic, mature, polite, arrogant Lady in the teppums Show gang, she is 52 years old like Mildred And she is bisexual, she is dating Harry the janitor. She likes gossiping And drinking tea with The ladies And woman her age, i can say older women. And she Sounds like a man just like how madame camela And stephany sound like men. Her headcanon voice actor is Bob Peterson, And her voice claim is roz from Monsters inc.

I'll make new parts tommorow =^///^=

@splashy900 @kxllboii @cheezecirno @aquamarine-dream-queen @dayzsaclark @oscarandgrinchfan @moshywoosh @ilovescaredysquirrel2 @nuggetaubrey @nightkit92 @familyoffood @mysafespaceblog13 @thelazzyblogzz @sugar-miss1 @shrimpathizer @shypeachrunaway @iggyguyy @sophia-does-skits @typical-sophie @peaceforpeople @ben5569 @princessmishka22 @xxkurosakutisaxx

[amrass]

RDR2 fanfic recommendations

I began this a month ago, then posted days ago, then realized marking posts as private makes me the only one who's can see them. Huh! So, I repost!

This is a spotlight with a handful of Ao3 RDR2 fanfics I enjoy. I got specific tastes, so this list has lots of Micah, and everything from gen fics to dead doves, randomly ordered. Please consider checking these out and give the writers some love. Chances are you have read a few already, but hey, you might find something new.

My Country has no Borders by Spacehat

You know the rare moment when a fic is so good it satisfies your whole need for a pairing or a character? Whenever I wanna read about Dutch, Hosea, a young Arthur, and Vandermorgan, I read this and boom, satisfaction. Literary level writing, masterful nonlinear time frame, and a spot on character analysis of Dutch. 

Wagers of Sin by Spacehat

The first Morbell fic I read that made me go hallelujah. Power bottom Micah, confident and mischievous, a well endowed and hard ass Arthur. The humor and the smut work so well together, the banter is excellent, and it's less dark than MChnB, for a lighter taste. Many of my Morbell headcanons are from here, so if you like my work, you might like this, though I consider the style better than mine.

The Mule by jenny_of_oldstones

Funny oneshot with crack elements, about a race between Arthur on his trusty mule Rooster vs Micah on Baylock. A very good take on Lenny, intelligent and witty, potentially the future leader of the gang. Arthur is funny and cute. Micah is an asshole, and awful fun. 

Vengeance is Hereby Mine by Delta_Meow

Crossovers do not get the attention they deserve, and this can be read without having seen the Dollars Trilogy (specifically A Few Dollars More, my personal favorite). There are three very strong leads - Arthur, Manco and Mortimer - with interesting relationships between each other, heaps of sexual tension, extensive horse knowledge, action, drama and a little American serial killer folklore! Also Micah owns the chapter he is in - very evil, very nice.

Red Dead Stuart Little AU by SourApplechips

This is a super cute and funny series, containing fics with the "everything is the same except one thing"; Micah is a rat, and John is a squirrel. There is an animated writing style that lends itself well to humor, a good eye for detail, a good grip on action and banter. I still seek these out when I am having a bad day. Also, it is interesting to note the connection between humor and horror, here: the writer masters both, which require a sense of timing and tension.

Here is a trio of dark fics within Morbell pairing, which are short or in their beginning, all ongoing. A lot of people only read complete fics, but supporting a writer in their journey can be so meaningful, so please give these a try: The World by SourApplechips (good take on the horror genre, top notch gore, excellent scenery details), Kindling Play by ohcmonjustdont (mythological, deeply poetic, and damn hot smut) and Idiotic Bull by zzzzzz01 (coiling dialogue and a good mix of violence and sensuality). I will not compare, but will rather point them out within a context of what honestly feels like a renaissance of Micah content. The characters feel like outlaws, the landscape - so clear in the game - is so present but conveyed differently, overall it is nice to see three unique voices emerge around the same time.

Nailed Her Pretty Good by SadomasochismTango

An unusual take on a Micah x random bathing girl fic, written from his perspective as an unreliable narrator with a strong dick game, making this deliciously dubious, but also is an excellent character study of him. This might be the piece on this list where the reader best feels Micah's age. He feels like a confident, creepy, forty year old outlaw. Also, the writer is a confirmed Tom Lehrer fan! Great!!!

Home in Damnation by SadomasochismTango

This is might be the darkest story on this list, so I'm hiding it at the bottom. This contains non-descriptive forced noncon incest in the Bell family, between grandfather and grandson. Still, this is tastefully done, direct but not crude, mixing extreme emotions beautifully. This is my favorite fanfic about Micah because it is so well written. If you can stomach the warnings I cannot recommend this enough.

(PS: If a writer for ever which reason wants me to remove their work from here, I will do it no questions asked and with no bad feelings. I think most authors are okay with being recommended, but it is completely okay not to be!)

[obi-nob-kenobi]

Like a Lady (Morston one-shot)

Arthur says yes to the deluxe bath in Valentine, but the girl who works the baths at 2AM wasn't who Arthur was expecting. He wants the deluxe bath anyway.

art by @moopzies on tumblr/twitter

(note: This is a repost from my old tumblr that i can no longer access but since someone is hating on morston again how about a reminder of a cross-dressing John fic I wrote~)

ao3 link

or read below:

Racoons were the worst rodent in all the lands, Arthur decided as he rode into Valentine, head down in shame and back irritated beyond reach. If his horse could talk, she’d be giving some sympathy back with a hint of mockery, just as Arthur would to anyone of his gang brothers.

He was just out in the forest trying to grab some meat, unbeknownst that a family of Racoons already took his spot by the pond as their territory. Trying to shoo them away proved fruitless, and soon he had one on his back trying to eat his hat, and another inside his jacket looking for a pack of cigarettes.

Now he was out of smokes, no meat to show for, and tired as all hell. He was not camping out, not with those monsters waiting for him, so he made his way back into town and said he was going to treat himself to a nice hot bath.

The only places open were the saloon and the hotel which advertised their 24 hour bath service. As small and smelly as Valentine was, their hot water all but made up for it.

Hitched his horse and gave her a nice bundle of carrots for the night before making his way inside, slamming two quarters down and demanding a bath. His kindness only went to his horse, as he had no patience for the night clerk’s fret of tracking mud.

The damn racoons pushed him into a puddle. He won’t elaborate further.

Once the clerk confirmed the hot water was ready, Arthur dragged himself into the tub, throwing his dirty clothes aside and stepped in.

The hot water was a shock to his cold skin that quickly subsided into the pleasurable heat he was dreaming of. This is exactly what his body needed, a nice hot bath with the soaps and sponges, not the damn river water most of everyone at camp uses when they can’t afford the bath.

He only got to scrubbing his arms when he sank into the tub, just letting himself soak. If Charles was available, he’d ask to go hunting with him. Maybe he knew how to deal with feral racoons.

Or he could rob some O’Driscolls for a few gold pieces. That’s a faster way to make money and buy butchered food in town.

Arthur had his eyes closed, dreaming of the land he was supposed to be exploring in New Austin when a knock awoke him. “Would you like some assistance?”

He peaked one eye open at the door, still closed but a shadow indicating someone on the other side. She didn’t sound like the usual girl who offered the service, but then again Arthur had ridden in around two in the morning. He also rejected the service last time he was here as he just wanted a moment to himself. This time, though, a bit of company sounded nice, even if he had to pay her.

“Sure.” He said.

The door opened, and not a split second later shut abruptly. “Shit!”

That startled Arthur awake, now recognizing the voice. It was not a woman, but instead John fucking Marston, wearing a petticoat and what looked like a corset similar to Karen’s. The eye shadow and lipstick were just as visible as the wolf scars on his cheek, though Arthur was sure the blush was not make-up, but John’s natural color.

“What the hell are you doing here?” John whispered harshly.

Arthur eyed him up, and under the bubbles pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming…or drowning. “I should be asking you that, Marston.”

“None of you come here at this hour. Haven’t since we’ve been camping.”

Arthur opened his mouth to retort when a knock on the door startled them. John stepped back, rushing over to Arthur’s side at the tub.

“Everything okay in there?” Arthur assumed it was the clerk.

“Just fine.” Arthur answered for them. “Saw…a rat.”

“Oh! We apologize about that sir, and we’ll get that squared away.”

John relaxed once the clerk’s footsteps faded, but then he glared down at him. “Jesus christ why ain’t there another town…”

Suddenly, the last few weeks made sense to Arthur. John was in no shape to hunt or even go on scouting jobs, but he’d been antsy sitting around all day. He complained to Arthur, the night of Sean’s welcome back party, that he was feeling useless to the gang and saw no point in being saved if he was just sitting around all day. Arthur tried to reassure he wasn’t being a burden, considering how some others just lie all day, but John seemed determined to contribute in some way.

Arthur assumed at the time it was just drunk talk, and come morning John would be in his tent resting as he should be. But since then, John looked even more tired in the morning, groggy and sluggish like he had been up all night. Arthur even caught him contributing to the camp funds, but didn’t answer when Dutch asked where he got the money.

“So you’ve been…”

“Not a damn word Morgan.” John said. “If word gets back to camp,” John reached into the bath and pulled his ankle up, “I will skin you alive.”

Arthur snorted. “You wish, boy.”

“I mean it Arthur.” His voice was stern, a tone of a promise and not an empty threat. “I don’t need the rest of y’all treating me like you do the ladies. They get enough shit as it is and I’m not gonna sit by when that ridicule comes to me.”

Arthur raised his hands. “Geez, I won’t. Just surprised is all.”

John let go of his ankle, finally relaxing at the edge of the tub. “Good.”

Arthur laid back, watching John’s body language. As suspected this odd night shift wore him down. He wondered if John walked to Valentine or hitched a ride every time but it was still quite a trek from camp.

And the dress–it was common enough that he maybe took it from one of the gals in camp but even John doesn’t steal from women. His guess is he’s using what the hotel provided.

“So they let you take this job?” Arthur asked, curious.

John shrugged. “Got a few wanting…this kind of service.”

Arthur could see the appeal. Skirts and corsets were always pretty, bringing out the best features of a lady. John was a skinny man, handsome face and long hair that had ladies swooning over him when he was a teenager. And Arthur had eyes, he could see why men would overlook his gender and take him especially in this get up.

“Well, you’re in here.” Arthur said. “Might as well scrub my back.”

John whipped his head. “You fucking serious?”

Arthur reached over for the washcloth and handed it to him, “I’m paying you, aren’t I?”

“Fuck you Morgan,” John said, taking the cloth and pushing Arthur forward. “You lucky this ain’t a knife.”

The fabric against his back was rough and stung at the scratch marks. He’d prefer delicate hands instead, but John was not a delicate person.

“These are fresh, what the hell happened?”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to turn red from embarrassment. He’s still called lead-meat considering how he kills his animals with high caliber bullets, but no way in hell will anyone find out he was bested by forest rodents.

“Wolves.” He said stupidly.

John clicked his tongue. “Try again. No wolf marks are this shallow.”

“Just wash me.”

Arthur leaned forward on the tub’s edge, resting on his arms as he watched John grumble to himself. He was doing a very thorough job, making sure every bit of dirt was off him. No matter how much he made fun of him, John was always a hard worker, no doubt about that.

When John finished his back, he shoved Arthur to rest his back against the tub, and took one of his legs to wash him down.

“You are one hairy man.” John commented. “You have a shaving kit.”

“You’re on to talk. Don’t see you cutting this anytime soon.” He reached out, touching the ends of John’s hair. John, surprisingly, did not pull back.

“Hair on my head is fine. I think you’re growing a forest on your legs.”

He moved to the other side of the tub to scrub his other leg. He paused for a second, observing the fresh scratches on that side. It was the leg the racoons climbed onto to get to his damn cigarettes. “So…wanna explain these?”

Arthur shivered when John’s slender finger traced the red markings. He sunk into the tub, hoping the bubbles would hide his face. “Don’t go out to the Cumberland Forest, think the animals have rabies.”

John pulled his hand back. “...you pulling my leg?”

“We’ll see when I’m foaming at the mouth come morning.”

John pushed his leg back into the water. “Fine, I won’t tell you was ravaged by racoons.”

“And I won’t tell you moonlight as a lovely lady.”

“Just give me the damn money.”

Arthur pointed over to his trousers piled in the corner. John made a face as he picked it up, taking the money while checking out the mud stains. “You got spare clothes, right?”

“Yep, on the horse though.”

John shook his head, mumbling to himself as he left the room, leaving Arthur alone yet again with water now lukewarm.

Some part of him still wondered if this was an elaborate dream, though he questioned why he dreamt of John of all people bathing him when said man returned with his clothes from his horse’s saddle.

“I’ll get these washed up. They’ll be in your tent in the morning.”

Oh, well that was rather kind of him. John at the camp wouldn’t even get him a bowl of stew if Arthur asked politely.

“Boadicea is lookin’ dirty too. You’re gonna wanna brush her.”

His poor horse also got caught up in the raccoon fight when they were trying to escape, rushing through bushes and dust instead of their trail. “Yup, I’ll do that in the morning.”

“Oh Miss Joanna,” The desk clerk knocked on their door, but did not open it. “Mr. Waldorf is asking for you.”

John’s shoulders slumped, back pressing at the wall when he sighed out, “I will be right out.”

Arthur eyed the door. “Whose Mr. Waldorf?”

“My regular.” John said. “Uh, he comes in for a bath among…other things.”

The pink blush on his face said enough to know what John was expected to do tonight.

And something about that burned in Arthur’s chest.

The comments John had growing up, a lovely face with high cheekbones and long hair, had all the wrong men coming onto him. Arthur was always the first to step between anyone who wanted to touch him, and when John grew stronger, had no problem defending himself.

Still, as an adult, abiet it a stupid one, John could make his decisions himself. If he wanted to get sweet with men to help the camp, so be it.

Yet…

Arthur did not want another man touching him.

“How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much, for a night with you.”

If John’s face was pink before, it was as red as a tomato now.

“Y-ou–wha–why do you care?!”

“How. Much.”

“Arthur, just get out before I throw your nice clothes into the bath!”

When Marston was stunned, it was easier to swipe things from him, so Arthur just pulled his clothes from John’s hands and quickly put on his pants. He walked past him and towards the clerk, uncaring that his feet were tracking wet footprints.

“How much for Miss Joanna?”

The clerk pushed up his glasses, confused at the request. “Miss Joanna is already scheduled–”

If he recalled, Abigail said she used to charge thirty in the city. Karen and Tilly said they offer five to ten in small towns like these, but usually come back with more considering they also rob the men before they can even touch them.

So he pulled out ten, which was enough for the clerk to shut up. It worked, as the clerk looked at his profit and handed over a key. “Room 2b is available now.”

Arthur turned back to the bath hallway, smirking at John’s stunned opened mouth. He jingled the keys and walked up to his room, knowing in just a few minutes John would be bursting through the doors, angrily sputtering nonsense about his job and not needing protection as he always did whenever Arthur involved himself in his business.

Arthur laid on the freshly made bed, noting it was big enough for two, hands behind his head and resting on the pillow, whistling softly to himself as the door slammed open.

“Morgan you goddamn bastard!”

“Miss Joanna,” Arthur smiled. “A lady shouldn’t be shoutin’, you could wake everyone up.”

John closed the door behind him, throwing Arthur’s dirty clothes onto the floor. Guess he won’t be getting those washed up anytime soon.

“Why, why are you still foolin’ around with me?” John asked through seething teeth. “You got your bath and a good laugh. Just let me work.”

Arthur kept this gaze tight on John. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“You’re smiling, you’re halfway there.”

“But I’m not.” Arthur said simply. “Even the gals don’t sleep with men anymore for money. Why are you?”

John gestures around him. “Contribute to the group, that’s what Dutch said, didn't he? Well I ain’t doing much sitting and moping all day, having Micah tell me what deadweight I am, Javier bragging about the loot he got. Hell, you and Charles are keeping us fed with all the animals yous been huntin.” John took a moment to breathe, hands on his hips as he paced around the room. “I’m useless.”

The smile on Arthur’s face left. He sat up on the bed, moving his body so that his feet were on the floor. “John, you were in the mountains starving for two days, attacked by wolves. You couldn’t even walk.”

“I’m walkin’ now, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay to rest. You ain’t useless.”

John clicked his tongue. “Tell that to Micah.”

“Micah should have been left in the mountains to die.” Arthur said without hesitation. “Come here.”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t gotta hug me. I ain’t twelve anymore.”

“Clearly.” Arthur said, patting his lap.

At least John’s face was back to red from embarrassment rather than anger. After a second of contemplating he did, walking over so that he was standing between Arthur’s legs.

Arthur reached out to touch his hand. He rubbed soft circles around his knuckles before taking it to his lips, and kissed him.

“Arthur…stop playin– Art!”

In a swift move, Arthur brought John down so that he was seated in his lap, skirt hanging over and covering both their legs. John’s waist was so small in the corset that was beautifully embroidered with flowers.

“Lemme take care of you Johnny.” Arthur soothed, letting his other hand rundown John’s back. The texture of the lace ribbon and metal boning danced on his fingertips. The knot at the bottom was tight enough to keep the piece altogether, but with the perfect tug, he could release John from his confines.

“”M not a kid.” John said suddenly. “Treat me like a man.”

“No.” Arthur said. He took the end of the ribbon and pulled the knot loose. But he didn’t let it slip off his body. Instead Arthur flipped them over, John with his back on the bed while Arthur kneeled between his legs. He hiked up the skirt to John’s waist, hands scrambling to pull down the bloomers and toss them aside.

“Tonight, I’m treatin’ you like a lady.”

He spread John’s legs apart, revealing his half-hard erection underneath all the pretty soft fabric. He began by kissing his inner thighs, noticing that he smelled almost floral. He sunk his teeth into the skin, using his tongue to lick the light wound right after and asked, “Did you clean yourself?”

Arthur couldn’t see John’s face, imagining he must be so flustered. With a shaky breath John replied, “Yeah, we’re all supposed–”

Arthur darted his tongue into his hole, leaving the younger man choking on his own words. Not only did John clean, but he prepared himself in advance, already stretched and lubricated. He supposed John couldn’t get wet as naturally as a woman, but that was okay, that gave Arthur more time to enjoy his body.

“A-Arthur! You don’t hafta–ah..”

John’s hand found Arthur’s hair, pulling at his strands to try and pull him off, but Arthur wouldn’t allow it. He doubted John’s customers ever treated him right, only using him for their pleasure and leaving him nothing else. It was time for John to feel the pleasure of a tongue inside him, fingering for his own lust. A cock that would draw out real screams.

He heard the younger sigh, keeping Arthur’s head in place and squeezed his thighs together. Arthur smiled to himself. John was finally allowing himself to actually feel good, and he was not holding back his sounds.

Unless they were yelling, the walls in this hotel were actually thick enough to mask conversations. The breathy moans and pants from John were just for Arthur to hear, and he took pride knowing he’s able to get these sounds out of him.

Arthur threw one of John’s legs over his shoulder to get a deeper angle. It caused another low whine, John withering in the bed to try and ride Arthur’s face. His cock was leaking now with some of his seed staining the inside of the dress. Arthur took his cock in hand, squeezing the base to stop him from coming so soon.

His own pants tightened at John’s voice, but Arthur ignored it so he could stretch his partner out.

He pulled his tongue out to kiss his thighs and legs, with one finger gently circling John’s puckered hole. “I’m putting one in.”

“Dammit Arthur, just–hng,”

“Impatient.”

John mouthed something that sounded like a “Fuck you”, but his words jumbled into a moan. Of all ways to finally shut John Marston up, it’d be something in his ass.

He started scissoring him with two, knowing John could take it with how slick he already was, and the younger man continued to sing pretty.

With a third to get him out thoroughly, John dug his heels into Arthur’s shoulders. “Arthur– please .”

Arthur kissed the head of his cock. “Never heard you beg like that.”

“ Arthur .”

If they were outside, with no walls or other people to consider, he’d have John begging until the birds in the sky could hear him. For now, John was all for him, in this room, in his lovely dress.

John scooted up the bed, resting between the two pillows. Arthur shoved down his pants, revealing his very hard erection. John’s eyes went down, and he swallowed nervously.

“This is for you, Johnny.” Arthur said, taking his cock and stroking himself. He leaned down, hips between John’s legs and hand tangling in John’s hair. “You made me hard. See what you’ve done?”

“J-just a bath…” John shied away from Arthur’s eyes, but in doing so he leaned into his touch.

“No, more than the bath. You’re beautiful John.”

Kissing his forehead, Arthur aligned himself with John’s opening and slowly sunk himself in. John gasped at the new stretch, and he grabbed Arthur by his shoulders, holding on as the man buried himself deep in him.

Between John’s teary eyes, the corset that just hung off his body, and the skirt now hiked up to his hips, he was a gorgeous sight, and for Arthur’s eyes only. If John would allow him, he’d photograph him with the camera in his bag. Maybe he’ll draw him out from memory, a reminder of this intimate and secret moment.

“Arthur,” John whispered. “Are you going to–”

“Thought I’d be gentle with you, miss.”

He could stay buried inside John forever. He was so warm , and fit him perfectly.

John rolled his eyes, but finally turned to Arthur to give him a proper kiss on the lips. “Fuck me, cowboy.”

Who was Arthur to deny a request like that?

He smashed their lips together, moving his hips in quick succession and thrusted in and out of his body just like he asked. The bed squeaked under them, headboard hitting the wall and Arthur was so glad this was the room at the end of the hall.

John’s moans were swallowed by Arthur, but what he would give to hear him out loud. John wrapped his legs around Arthur, trying to keep him in place as Arthur built his own pleasure with his body.

John’s neglected cock bounced between them. With his thumb, he rubbed at the tip, smearing his precum all over. That alone was enough to make John throw his head back, and covering his mouth, came between their bodies.

He tightened up after that, and Arthur hid his face in his shoulder. “John, fuck , I’m close. Where–”

“Inside.” John said, meeting Arthur’s movements. “Come inside me, Arthur.”

It didn’t take long for Arthur to follow, with one last hard thrust he buried himself deep, and filled John.

They came down from their high through lazy and breathless kisses. Arthur started on his lips, and when John grew tired, slumping into the bed, Arthur kissed his forehead, his cheek with his scars, and to his collarbone, wishing he could leave a mark if not for the fact John wore open necked shirts.

The night air of Valentine cooled their sweat and fluids, something that John quickly grew uncomfortable as his own spend was on his skirt and thighs. Arthur had not pulled out, but he could feel him leaking .

“Off,” John said after a moment. “Ugh, I think I need a bath.”

“Need some assistance?” Arthur asked shamelessly, and John lightly hit his arm.

“Ass. Just…wash cloth? There should be one by the drawer.

And that there was, as well as a set of clean sheets. For a small town hotel, they were ready for this type of clean up.

He wiped John’s body thoroughly, kissing every part of his skin until he was cleaned of the sweat and fluids. His lower half, however, Arthur watched in full arousal as his seed leaked out of him, dripping down to his thighs. Without warning he hitched John’s leg over his shoulder again, licking the rest of him clean.

John whimpered, holding in his moans as Arthur’s mouth got closer to his hole. He wasn’t hard yet so fast, but his cute cock was trying. It made Arthur smile.

When he was done teasing John, Arthur finally stood to take a nice look at his debauched and thoroughly fucked body. John was still breathing hard, face flushed and long legs spread out, ready for him again if Arthur pleased.

John looked absolutely stunning.

He joined him back on the bed, pulling John to his chest to kiss his forehead. The fireplace crackled as the logs broke under the heat, and the Valentine night noises filled the otherwise silent room, that was until a man two doors down groaned in pain.

Arthur shot up immediately, looking for his pistol when John tapped his chest to have him rest. “Ignore him, some poor fella with a stomach problem.”

“Oh.”

Under his chin, John’s hair smelled floral. He always called him a pile of grease because he just looked so oily, but running his hands through it, Arthur found his hair was very soft.

“So, how the hell is this going to work?” John asked after a while.

“What d’ya mean?”

“You just paid me and that money’s going back to the gang. Kinda weird when you can just put it in the box yourself.”

Arthur pulled John closer. “That money is yours with however you want it. I can contribute another way.”

John shrugged. “I don’t know, doesn’t feel right to take your money.”

“But it was okay to take my hat, my clothes, my saddle? ”

“I was fifteen!”

Arthur laughed. “John, I mean it. Do what you want with the money. Just stop doing this for other men.”

He could feel John tense. “How am I supposed to contribute–”

“Start by doing chores around the camp. Clean the horses, I don’t know. Nothing that would hurt you.” Arthur said. “I know you wanna be out here but…”

Arthur rolled them over, John now on his back so Arthur could look at him. As gently as he could, Arthur cupped John’s scarred cheek. “Take it easy. I’m not losing you again because you went off and got attacked.”

“They were just wolves.” John reminded him, leaning into his touch. “Better than O'Driscolls.”

They knew what the O’Driscolls were capable of. Arthur didn’t like that thought either.

Arthur laid next to John.“ Just…be there when I return to camp.”

The room grew quiet, just the sounds of the fireplace and the crickets from the outside. Then, in a small but earnest voice, John said. “Okay.” As he snuggled closer to Arthur.

Satisfied, Arthur stroked through John’s hair until he fell asleep, and soon enough Arthur did the same, holding the man like he was the most precious thing on earth. Because John Marston really was.

Arthur awoke to the roosters. Groaning, he covered his ears with a pillow and turned over, expecting to meet with another body only to find himself alone. He sighed, remembering that John probably snuck out earlier to make it back to camp, but it still disappointed him no less to wake up alone.

The room looked as if only one occupant stayed. The dirty clothes and wash cloth were gone. On top of his clean clothes, folded, was a note, definitely left by John based on his chicken scratch handwriting.

Saw some O’Driscolls hanging outside the hotel. Be careful on your way back. They was wearing some shiny new belts.

Arthur smiled, tucking the note away in his journal as he got ready for the day.

Picking off the O’Driscolls was easy, leading them far enough from town to take them out and steal any valuables on them. His luck turned around right after when a herd of deer trotted by, and Arthur managed to kill one cleanly and take the carcass back to the camp.

It was noon by the time he returned, valuables for the camp box and meat for Pearson’s stew.

Heading over to the girl’s wagon to pick up the coffee sacks for Pearson, Arthur saw John with a bucket between his legs, scrubbing away at some clothes. Despite working, he looked well rested, his first night with proper sleep.

The girls were folding the dry clothes and sewing ripped fabric. When Arthur said hello, the girls welcomed him back, while John grumbled.

“Get all them stains out, Marston.” Arthur teased.

“Fuck off.”

There were no heat in his words, judging by the way Tilly and Mary-Beth giggled.

“At least one of yous is helping us.” Karen said aloud, eyes glaring daggers at Sean sleeping by a rock.

“Don’t strain yourself too much ladies, Marston.” Arthur said, taking the sack over his shoulder.

“Arthur.” John called out, eyes still on the washboard. “I left your clothes hanging by your tent.”

Arthur took a quick glance over at his side of camp, seeing his clothes from the night before freshly washed and hanging to dry on a clothesline, just as John said. When he looked back, he noticed a faint blush on his face.

“Thanks. Can you come by later? My blanket ripped, I need help sewing it.”

The blush on his face deepened, but John just replied. “Sure.”

“John! I didn’t know you can sew.” Mary-Beth said, surprised.

“Me neither…” Was what John mumbled.

“Hey Marston, can you wash my long johns?”

“Do it yourself Williamson!”

“You do Arthur’s but not mine?!”

Arthur laughed, finally separating himself from them to give Pearson his sack. The rest of their afternoon would be filled with finishing chores, then sitting around the campfire listening to Javier sing or Uncle’s dubious escapades.

But in the night, John would be back in his tent, the man in his arms. Arthur just got a taste in Valentine, and he wasn’t going to stop just because John wasn’t in a skirt.

He wondered if he paid Karen or Mary-Beth, if they’d let Arthur keep one of their skirts.

[sk1ttery]

Wallflower AU Things :))

Set a few months prior to Graves’ accident.

“Kid, I’m gonna need to to tell me your name.” The police officer taps his pen against his clipboard, eyeing Hot-Shot.

Hot-Shot shifts in the uncomfortable plastic seat, sneakers squeaking against the lenoleum floors. He crosses his arms and huffs slightly, blowing his hair out of his eyes.

The cop purses his lips. “How old are you?”

Hot-Shot stares him down, adamant in not answering.

“Can you tell me the names of those boys you were with?”

Hot-Shot turns his gaze to the clock, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Tick

Tick..

Tick…

There’s an irritated sigh. “Son, I can do this all day…”

Perfect. So can he.

“…Or you could make this easier for both of us and tell me who you robbed that store with.” He prompts, sounding more impatient by the minute.

An uncomfortable silence falls over them before the officer sighs heavily and pushes his glasses to the top of his head. Hot-Shot can see the indents on the his nose.

“Look, kid. You’re in here every other week and it’s always because the same boys screwed you over and left you behind. I know you have some code or- whatever you want to call it, but is that really worth your future? Why don’t you just tell me your name.”

“Shouldn’t it be in your files or some shit? Considering I’m here so much.”

“So you can talk.”

“Yeah. But why would I talk to a fuckin’ pig like you.”

There’s no way he’s ratting out his friends. His old man and mama taught him better than that.

Deny. Deny. Deny.

“Did you rob that store last night.” The cop ignores the insult.

“I don’t know. Did you see me rob it.”

The officer looks exhasperated and sits back, pinching this bridge of his nose and muttering what sounds like a prayer before standing up abruptly.

Hot-Shot flinches at the sudden movement.

“I’m not doing this. I can’t-“ He walks off, probably to find a co-worker or some shit.

Hot-Shot watches the cop talk to a coworker. They keep glancing over at him and whispering to each other. He turns his gaze to the officer’s desk, studying his belongings.

The station doors slide open and he looks around only to see a very irritated looking Graves walk in.

Oh, shit.

Graves marches past him, raising a hand in a ‘don’t’ motion before Hot-Shot can get a word out, as he approaches the officers and decends into a heated conversation.

—

He’ll never understand how Graves does it. He was sure he was fucked this time, but then Graves swoops in and saves his ass.

Again.

“…Graves-“ He starts to say after they’ve been sat in the car in silence for maybe ten minutes.

Graves lifts his head from where he’d been resting it against the steering wheel.

“You told me you were done with this shit, mate- I thought after you left home you’d leave them too.”

“It was just one job.” Hot-Shot mutters.

“You say that every time. ‘Just one job.’ ‘One more job.’ ‘This is the last one, Graves.’ It never is- The whole point of you leaving was to escape that shit. But you keep going back to those fucking low-life-“

“They’re my friends-“ Hot-Shot interrupts, turning to meet Graves’ gaze.

“I’m your friend. They’re gang members. There’s difference, Forest.”

“Is there??”

“Friends don’t leave friends behind.”

Hot-Shot shuts his mouth and turns his gaze away, slumping down in his seat. He refuses to admit Graves is right.

“Don’t start sulking because I’m right.”

“Fuck you, man.” He bites out.

“Why, for caring?” Graves sounds tired. Maybe Hot-Shot’s been pushing too much...

“Look.” Graves says eventually. “I- I know you think they’re your friends, Shot, but one of these days- Sooner or later, they’re going to leave you bleeding somewhere. And I know you know that, deep down.”

Hot-Shot doesn’t answer. Maybe he does know that. Those guys have never done anything for him or to help him. Despite how much he’s done for them. How much he’s risked. How he bends over backwards for them-

Graves reaches out and ruffles his hair but Hot-Shot ducks away. He’s not in the mood.

Graves retracts his hand. “Let’s just go home,” He mutters, starting the car.

[granhairdopoetry]

near death experience

death is hard to comprehend

when you truly face it

the times ive wished for a dark demise

were alternate to the times i narrowly missed it

first time i understand the wishes deeply now

the little ones still dont know

just how we stayed at that strange mans house

that night was louder for me than for them

i hear the creaks of an old wood bed

i still turn my head when love permeates the dark air

even now it makes me wince

back then i hadn't brushed with death

since the times i was but a sickly growing child

so i walked down the old streets

that the gangs ran

to chouteau bridge the next month

and stared

it jarred me quite a lot

when my hands lost grip on the hot metal

and leg dangled over the edge

but something to me was so strangely beautiful

about losing the summer air

years go by

i visit once and awhile

and ponder the idea of leaving it all behind

that was until i caught a bullet in the leg

and almost died on rusty pavement

cause the mistaken men had run

left me bleeding for awhile

gasping and shivering

until a blurry figure came to me

and told me i was okay

time passed since then

i feared the unknown

as i slept in my parents bed

cause i was too weak

to get down the stairs

to my bed

in the basement

where the rats lived

time went by

an eviction and a bad luck charm

i was still limping

before you knew it

i was on the ground again

not trembling

but completely shaking this time

and not even bleeding

i couldn’t think

couldn’t breathe

it was over for me

i felt a needle jab

and i was okay

since that night ive vowed to never

do a thing like that again

even though my days are numbered

and i won’t make it to 35

im here

and that’s okay

for me

[ltlemon]

kk I'm gonna live blog episode 6 of OFMD because it'll be funny MAJOR SPOILERS but also like everything's super spaced out so you could probably read along with my reactions? (no clue why you would do that but the option is there.)

fair warning this is really long but no one's going to actually read this so that's fine.

that opening shot is SOO PRETTY

who tf is this guy

'my love'? is he fruity and evil? evil and fruity?

'god that was a beautiful pitch, that was really nice'??? I THINK SO???

I might end up liking the evil gay violin man

hi ed <33

oh no trauma

DRAMA WITH THE GIRLLLS <33 (Izzys little wiggle is precious)

HE THOUGHT HE WAS ROACH???? HOW DRUNK IS HE HOT DAMN

he did say sorry though :')

they're sharing the bottle !! the only times ed has done that with anyone that I can remember has been with calico jack and stede

fock off >:(

aww stede put away all his stuff for him

's probably not a good idea though

oop, yep, caught it. guilt room :(

poor stede he looks like he feels a little bad now.

he's so sweet about it though. <3

ARCHIE!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HER SM

AA LOOK AT HOW JIM LOOKS AT HER

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A BIRTHDAY STORY?!?!? AHAHAH

GIRL YOU ARE INSANE

oluwande looks like he's doubting his partners choice of a third slightly

fang's sticking his pinky out!

hehehehe they want a party <33

YEAHHHH

aww not stede offering to give the loot up to a good cause

give it a new purpose, one not tied to ed's guilt

you interrupted their little meeting >:(

EEhehe

YES TURN POISON INTO POSITIVITY

that's what I said

aw ed's charmed

✨I'm gonna go walk my dogs now, I'll be back✨

okok I'm back and I have a quesadilla

oh cool Ricky's back

you were minding your buisness?? no tf you weren't

heh, his new nose is cute though, it's like fancy china

old wrapped his arm around Jim!!! the cuties ever!!

AWWWWW HES FUCKINDUWDHAH

HES GIVING MONEY TO RANDOM KIDS BC HE WAS POOR AS A KID ADSIJN

I love him so much

'filthy little gutter rats' I'm dying

INN RP???

'don't be pirates' 'yeah agreed don't be pirates 😀'

zheng!

girl what is wrong with you

wee John doing drag makeup!!!!!!!! EAHEIDHAB

izzy seems quite intrigued

AWW stede's so charmed by the party

it's rubbing off on ed too

omfg Jim's so silly

just a little guy

HOLY SHIT WEE JOHN LOOKS GOOD

eeeeee ed's little smile at stede <33

WHAT THE FUCK IZZY MUSICAL SCENE WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK

AND HE'S GOOD!?!?!?!?

WIAIYT WAIT WAIT ARE THEU GONNA DANCE

PLEASE PLEAAAASE TELL ME THEYRE GONNA DANCE

fang's clapping for izzy in the background ee

UEUEUEUE SOME PEOPLE ARE DANCING

Jim and Archie are so flipping cute omfg

holy shit??? hand kiss???

AWWWW <<3333

OH OH OH AND JIMS DANCING WITH OLU TOO

THEY REALLY DO HAVE TWO HANDS

HAH HOLY SHIT THE THREE OF THEM ARE TRYING SO HARD

JIM SANDWICH

!!!!

AW OH OH NO ED SHIELDING STEDE-

oh its gay violin man!

'oh I'm going to torture you all. by the way. 😃' sorry I forgot, I meant evil gay violin man.

I love how when ed says 'its because I only hang out with cool pirates' Stede's looking at him like he just delivered the burn of the century

oh holy shit stede's getting pissed he's like stop touching him

'oh shit! You struck a chord, I think you got it in one!' his face here is so wholesome aa

'you torture like a bitch' 'yes ok honey maybe you shouldn't say that it might get us killed'

AW NO THE LITTLE 'it's me you want ITS ME YOU WANT' he can deal with it, causing pain to himself because of an action he did is fine, he's used to that, but that pain coming to stede is unacceptable.

'so what's the plan you...weird...fock?' starting to like izzy

AHDJAKSJ I love Lucius and Pete sm ya'll

his little conductors baton is really cute

Lucius and Pete in the lower levels of the ship looking like a shot from Alien

omfg stede asking for her name is so cute'

'where were you 😡' 'we got engaged 😄' 'aww🥰' 'anyways- 😡'

'alright gang! let's talk profit sharing! 😄' I'm dead

'don't do it stede 🥺' crying sobbing shaking

holy fucking shit stede

OH NO

baby's looking haunted by the horrors in his bedroom

??????

WHAT??

THE LOOK ON HIS FACE???? I NEED TO REWIND HOLD ON

HOLY SHIT

EDS FACE TOO HE WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT

sir you just killed a man???? why do you want to fuck now????????

aw ok but Izzy's back to singing though <33

he likes it :))

PHEW HOLY SHIT WHOA

OK IM STAYING SILENT FOR THIS SCENE ILL TALK WHEN ITS DONE I CANT FLIP BACK AND FORTH DURING THIS ONE BOYS (gn)

THAT WAS SO GOOD

LUCIUS'S LITTLE DANCE, EVERYONE SINGING ALONG,

GAY SEX?!?!?!

AGAGAAHAH

omg they're shouting for an encore in the creditsaaa 🥺

and Archie and roach interact yay!!

wow. ok. so we were right about the gay sex hips!!!

wow. we were right about the gay sex hips....

on to episode seven. (I may die within the next 24 minutes.)

[ms-miserable-misery]

Febuwhump 2023 - DAY 5: “that’s gonna scar”

The kid held his breath, cheeks puffing out, as the other boy pulled shards of glass out of his side. He did his best not to make any noise, not to cry, but soft whimpers slipped past his lips as hot tears slid down his flushed cheeks. He stared at the ceiling stubbornly, refusing to acknowledge the presence of the tears. After all, boys don’t cry.

Solo glanced over at the kid through the curtain of his bangs, a sad but tender smile twisting the corner of his lips. The poor chap. He was usually able to squirm his way out of any situation, but this time… Of all times for the kid’s luck to run out, it just had to be when dealing with a drunk, angry sick fuck who was completely focused on getting one thing.

Solo tried not to worry about the growing patches of red on the kid’s clothing. He had a nasty stab wound to his side where the john had managed to clock him with a beer bottle. The seat of his ratty pants also had a worrying stain. The kid was young, though. Hopefully he was too young to understand what had happened to him, too young for it to leave lasting damage.

A sharp cry fell unbidden from the kid’s lips as Solo extracted a particularly large and jagged piece of the bottle from his side. A fresh flow of blood ebbed from the rough edges of the wound.

“That’s gonna scar,” Solo muttered under his breath. He bit his lip, worried. That was a lot of blood. He was unsure if he knew enough to make this better. He was going to have to call in a favor.

The kid’s face was flushed bright red at this point, large tears streaming down his cheeks. He disobeyed Solo’s earlier command and looked down at his wound. Fear shone in his luminescent purple eyes as he looked back up into Solo’s face. His lips wobbled as he valiantly tried to hold his tears back, but he was only around five years old. There was only so much he could do. His face crumpled as he gave into his fear, soft hiccuping sobs growing in pitch and desperation by the second.

Feeling horrible about it, but having no choice if they were to survive, Solo clapped his blood-covered hand firmly over the Kid’s mouth, muffling his cries from any passerbys. They weren’t in a safe spot, huddled in the corner of an abandoned shop. There were no safe spots for street rats like them, no matter where they went, where they tried to hide. If they wanted to survive, they needed to stay tough, unseen, and silent, just like the rodents that they were named after.

“Shuddup, Kid,” Solo hissed gruffly. “I’m gonna leave ya here all alone if ya don’t. You’re gonna give away our position.” While he wasn’t entirely unaffected by the betrayed look in those soulful eyes, Solo had learned how to ignore the guilt ages ago, doing what needed to be done to survive. He nodded at the kid in approval and ruffled his long tangled hair gently when the sobs were immediately choked off into hiccuping gasps. The poor kid struggled to catch his breath through his snot filled nose.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he gasped in between wet, unsatisfying breaths. “Please, Solo, please don’t leave me. I’m scared. It hurts. Help me Solo, please…” His whole little body shook with the force of his repressed sobs, eyes and nose spilling fluids down his face, his expression of raw fear and desperation such that should never be on the face of a child that young.

Solo’s heart could only take so much before his resolve broke and he pulled the kid’s face into his shoulder, uncaring of the snot and tears that soaked into his threadbare shirt. He pet his hand over the matted hair, gently threading his fingers through the few inches near his shoulder blades that were relatively free of tangles. He was normally able to stay tough with the young ones in his gang, but something about this kid just made him want to hide him from all the ugliness in the world.

“I’m sorry, Kid,” he said soothingly. “But you know how it is out here. We all have to look out for ourselves or we won’t survive. You know that. You’ve seen that.” The little head just burrowed deeper into his shoulder, nearly nestling into his armpit in its eagerness to get closer. Solo pulled the little body into his lap, ignoring, for now, the patch of warm wetness that he could now feel on his thigh where the kid was seated. He rubbed gentle circles on the bony little back, rocking him back and forth until the little frame finally stopped shaking, only an occasional shudder going through the skeletal frame.

Solo sighed. At nine years old, he was more weary and tired than any child his age should ever be. He would have to strike some sort of deal with the shopkeeper and his wife so that he could get the kid the care that he needed. Something told him that anything would be worth it to keep his little street urchin alive.

“You’re going to be okay,” he lied to the kid, trying to convince himself as well. “You’ll make it through this.”

———

The corners of Duo’s eyes tensed, the only visible reaction as Heero poured alcohol over the deep slice in his side. He watched as Heero stitched him up and dressed the wound with some gauze. He could see the faded, barely visible scars littering his side from what felt like lifetimes ago, a permanent reminder of his first lesson into the ugliness of life. The corners of his lips twitched up in a sardonic smirk.

“That’s gonna scar.”

[tehuti88-art]

10/11/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday."

This week's characters from my anthro WWII storyline are Gabriele "Gabby" Zweifel, and Lance Corporal White Rat. Gabby is the toddler daughter of Mirjam Zweifel and the two spend the entire story in hiding. White is from the old character list and not well developed yet but is rather a jerk. There'll be more about them later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding their design, Gabby mostly takes after her unknown father, though I gave her ears similar to Mirjam's. With White, I gave him hazel green eyes before realizing that, as a white rat who's not albino, he should be leucistic and have blue eyes. Oops. Well, maybe he has some different-colored patches not visible in this portrait, or I should tweak his design. Dunno.

TUMBLR EDIT: Entry split in two here on out.

Gabriele...is an uncomfortable character. Her very physical appearance, so different from her mother's, hints at this. This entry touches on controversial themes, I won't go into detail though I'll lay it out plainly, so in the tiny chance anyone is reading this you might want to skip the rest.

...

Last warning.

Okay, here goes.

Gabriele is the product of a gang rape. Her mother Mirjam has no idea who her true father is; as she later explains it to Major Jan Delbrück, he could've been any of a large group of SS officers: "I lost count around eight." Even Delbrück, hardened as he is by providing the final shot that kills wounded prisoners in the labor camp, is horrified by her tale.

Much of Mirjam's story is still murky; it seems she was one of an extended family group of Jews who for some reason were still hiding within the city, seeking a means of escape while moving between temporary homes. They seemed to have no contact with or assistance from the Diamond Network, if it was around. The Allgemeine-SS was tipped off to this and raided their current hiding spot; most of the group was killed immediately, Mirjam was not. After they were finished she was left for dead; she regained consciousness, however, and managed to once more flee and go into hiding.

Some time later--switching to present tense here--a young woman employed at Frau Bitterlich's, a well-known brothel tolerated (i. e., intentionally overlooked because their own members so often visit it) by the Nazi Party, spies movement within a derelict building as she passes; peering within and calling out, she's surprised to spot a thin, disheveled woman--with a very big belly--hiding within. Mirjam's been surviving on her own since the loss of her family group, and is nearly feral by now, skittish and defensive, living off of discarded scraps, constantly moving from place to place. The woman finally coaxes her out with the promise of food, a hot bath, and a warm bed. She asks Mirjam how far along she is; Mirjam's lost track of time, though she's obviously due very soon. She's alarmed to learn the nature of the place she's been brought to, yet the woman reassures her that nothing will be requested of her right now, Frau Bitterlich will surely allow her to stay a while and recover.

Frau Bitterlich, upon seeing Mirjam, contacts a private physician on call to the brothel; she promises Mirjam that she has no need to worry, he's discreet. Mirjam's features--dark hair, dark eyes, dark complexion--combined with her obvious terror make it clear she's Jewish, and Frau Bitterlich and her girls start to suspect that something truly awful happened to her. The doctor arrives and Mirjam reluctantly allows him to look her over; he tells Frau Bitterlich that she's malnourished, but aside from that, relatively healthy. He can't tell more without a more intimate examination, which he doesn't think would be wise to conduct right now, yet has no reason to believe there'll be any major issues with Mirjam's childbirth: He's fairly certain, based on feeling her belly and asking questions to narrow down the date of conception, that she's actually overdue. He's deliberately vague in informing Frau Bitterlich that Mirjam's options right now are quite limited--he can still terminate, though it's definitely not recommended so far along, he's willing to fetch the right instruments if she requests. At this, Mirjam, still sitting nearby, suddenly exclaims, "Nein!" The doctor and Frau Bitterlich glance at her; Mirjam wraps her arms around her belly as if to protect herself, and murmurs, "I...I want to keep it...I want one good little thing from this." Her eyes fill with tears and she starts trembling. "This is the only reason I'm still here," she says. Despite the violence of the child's conception, Mirjam had no choice to abort early on; once she realized this, she made the unborn child her reason to hold on, to stay alive. She won't ask them to terminate now. The doctor tells Frau Bitterlich to contact him when Mirjam goes into labor and he'll provide what help he can.

Frau Bitterlich's girls set Mirjam up, give her the promised food and hot bath and warm bed, fawn over her and make sure she's safe and comfortable. When she goes into labor, it's painful but quick; Frau Bitterlich calls the doctor, yet Mirjam's already done all the work by the time he arrives. Frau Bitterlich's girls, assisting, catch sight of the newborn before Mirjam does, and share furtive, uneasy looks; Mirjam briefly worries that something is wrong with the child, yet she's reassured that it's a perfectly healthy baby girl. They hold the mewling infant up for Mirjam to see; she takes in a sharp breath and pales when she sees her fair hair and complexion, nothing whatsoever like her own. The baby blinks her eyes open just briefly--Mirjam actually flinches back a little at the light blue--yet the baby then starts to cry, and Mirjam's eyes fill with tears again. She holds out her shaking arms; the baby is placed in them and she cradles her close to let her nurse. She presses her face to the top of her new daughter's head and names her Gabriele, after the archangel. "My little messenger," she whispers.

Gabriele's appearance tells Frau Bitterlich and her girls all they need to know about what must have happened; they don't ask any questions. Mirjam is allowed to stay at the brothel (though eventually, she begins working there for her room and board). Her feelings toward her daughter are complicated; she does love her dearly, and does everything she can to protect her, though as she later admits, every time she looks at her she's reminded of how exactly she came to be. When the rather antinatalist Delbrück (more on him in a moment) says if he had been in her situation, he would have aborted her, Mirjam admits that if this had been an option, she can't honestly say she wouldn't have terminated the pregnancy. Abortion is illegal for Aryan women--a group into which Mirjam does not fit--but given that she's Jewish and in hiding, it wasn't readily available to her, either. So the entire argument, ultimately, is moot. By the time she finally met the doctor, she'd decided she wished to keep the child, a decision Delbrück still doesn't understand, and even she can't really explain it. It's clear she would never judge any woman who chose otherwise, but she herself can't even imagine life without her daughter, now. Even if she has to struggle with the awful memories every day, she doesn't blame Gabriele.

The relationship between Mirjam, Gabriele, and Delbrück is complicated, too. The adjutant (second-in-command) of the local labor camp and thus a member of the SS-Totenkopfverbände, he visits the brothel one day with a bizarre request that only Mirjam can fulfill. Frau Bitterlich does something that really seems like a d*ck move by not informing Mirjam of the nature of her new client (Delbrück, new to this sort of thing, shows up in uniform) before locking them both in the same room (a sort of safety measure Mirjam's never had any problem with until now); Mirjam and Delbrück end up stranded together and staring at each other in astonishment before Mirjam spends a moment or two frantically pounding on the door begging to be let out. Nobody responds so she turns back to Delbrück, who simply says, "I can be discreet, if you can," and Mirjam realizes that she's actually the one with the power in this situation: She has everyone else in the brothel at her back, and if anyone on the outside were to find out that Delbrück's visited with her, he'd be finished. Mirjam's in no danger whatsoever--Delbrück is.

The two of them settle on a series of arranged meetings for his particular request--which doesn't involve sexual contact of any sort, but does involve a strict insistence that she not try to talk with him--until eventually, the visits seem to lose their effect for him. Mirjam can't help herself, various times curiosity gets the better of her and she tentatively tries to talk to him, though he always brusquely cuts her off with "No talking!" and on one occasion even complains to Frau Bitterlich. After her session with him fails to work, while pleading that she can try harder if he wishes, she accidentally mentions her daughter, which finally elicits a response--"You have a daughter?" But then the clock runs out, and Delbrück leaves. Mirjam's certain he's not coming back, yet he does, and spots Gabriele. Mirjam awkwardly introduces them to each other, calling him her friend "Herr Jan," and Delbrück says, "Hallo, Gabby," getting a small "Hallo" in return. Then, something Mirjam's never seen before--Delbrück smiles, just a bit, just fleetingly.

The moment they're alone, Delbrück says, "Her father's SS, isn't he." Doesn't bother phrasing it as a question, it's so painfully obvious. By now Mirjam's learned that Delbrück isn't with the Allgemeine-SS, therefore he likely has no connection to what happened--in fact, the Allgemeine-SS ends up investigating him for his visits to the brothel--so she feels safe enough replying that yes, Gabriele's father is SS, and she tells him what happened. Although she avoids going into detail, Delbrück is still disturbed by the story. His comments that he would have sought an abortion, and he's not interested in fathering children (he took part in Lebensborn, but soon quit as he found it "weird"), puzzle her a little, with how in conflict they are with the Nazi ideal of having as many kids as possible; as an SS member, it's strongly encouraged that he get married and sire at least four children. Delbrück doesn't see the point, who in their right mind would want to bring a child into this mess--? Realizing then exactly what he said, he flushes and tries to excuse Mirjam from his observation, though she's not offended...she knows it's complicated and she can't really explain her decision, herself. After a few moments, she ventures to ask, "Are...are we talking?" Delbrück blinks, then relaxes and says, "I guess we are."

The two continue their visits--talking to each other now--and as time goes on, they develop feelings for each other, with all that that entails. They both know they can never be in a true relationship, so they take what they can get. And despite his avowed aversion to children, Delbrück is excellent with Gabby, who seems to like him a lot in return, calling him Herr Jan and giving him a big hug whenever they meet. Noticing this, Mirjam decides to make another, much different request of him: She asks if he'll take Gabby outside. Gabby's entire world, her entire life, has consisted of living within the brothel; she's never seen the outside, never seen the sun or the clouds or trees or anything, other than the city alleyway and its mere sliver of sky visible from Mirjam's window. Just once, Mirjam would like her daughter to see the life she's missed. This is the one gift she longs to give her, but has never been able to. "She can pass as one of you," she tells Delbrück, "if you two were together, no one would ask any questions." Delbrück is surprised by the request, but promises to take Gabby out for a day and show her the world.

The appointed day, Delbrück stops by and retrieves Gabby from Mirjam--who by now is having second thoughts, full of anxiety that somehow Delbrück will be outed as a client, or Gabby's identity will be detected--promises to have her back that evening, and leaves. He leads her out through the side exit so they aren't spotted out front. A big black limousine is parked on the back street; the chauffeur, leaning against it, hurries to snuff out his cigarette and open the door. "Your guest...?" he says as Delbrück places Gabby in the back seat before joining her; Delbrück just rolls his eyes. He tells her the other man is Herr Cranz and she can trust him. Herr Cranz gets in the car, starts the engine--Gabby gasps at the roar and claps her hands to her ears--and says, "Where to--?" Delbrück blinks--he hasn't even thought about where to take Gabby, he has no idea what a kid would like, and says as much. "Park, maybe?" Cranz suggests; it's as good as anything, so Delbrück says yes, city park please. As the big black limo pulls away from the curb and heads off for the park, Gabby stands on the seat, hands and face pressed to the glass, and stares at the passing scenery with huge eyes.

Cranz drops them off at the city park; Delbrück instructs him to return in the evening, takes Gabby's hand, and asks where she'd like to go first. Gabby looks all across the park in open wonder before pointing at the pond, bouncing excitedly--"Bitte! Bitte!"--so he leads her there. Several large birds are drifting across the water, honking among themselves; "What are those?" Gabby asks; "G��nse," Delbrück says, "Geese." He advises they not get too close as geese can be mean; yet as the geese drift toward them expectantly, Gabby asks, "Can I feed a geese?" Delbrück, amused by the mistake, says, "Gans...one geese is a goose," and waves at a nearby food vendor--it's extremely frivolous in such times, yet he promised to let Gabby do as she wished. "Like Mutter Gans (Mother Goose)!" Gabby exclaims, pleased to at last see the fairytale figure's namesake, and she tosses bits of bread as Delbrück shows her to, clapping her hands as the birds gather to honk and nibble at the crumbs.

"Herr Jan," Gabby asks after she takes a ride on a small carousel, "what are those?" She points up; he looks, uncertain what she's pointing at. She says, "Those fluffy things, I see them from the window sometimes, but not so many," to which Delbrück says, "Clouds...?" "Clouds," Gabby echoes. "What are they doing?" Delbrück has no idea how to answer that, so he says, "I don't know...cloud things, I suppose." "What do clouds do?" Gabby asks; "They bring rain sometimes," he says, at which Gabby tilts her head and says, "Rain...?" Delbrück blinks, feeling an odd sense of dismay; "It's like...water, that falls from the sky," he tries to explain; Gabby's face lights up--"Oh! I see it from the window, it makes the street all shiny. Rain," she sounds it out, and Delbrück lets out a breath.

Gabby runs and skips along the paved path, singing to herself as Delbrück walks some distance behind. She suddenly stops, lets out a small shriek, and comes running to him in a panic--"Herr Jan! Herr Jan! Something touched me! What is it?" Delbrück drops to his knee and looks her over--"What is it, did something bite you?"--yet he can't see a thing on her. "Something played with my hair!" Gabby insists, confusing him all the more--then she shrieks again, and points at the path. "Look! Look! There it is, Herr Jan!"

Delbrück looks. Doesn't see anything except some leaves scattering by. Then understanding dawns..."Wind?" he says, furrowing his brow. "You've never felt wind?" "Wind," Gabby echoes; she gasps when it ruffles her hair again. "Why can't I see it, Herr Jan?" "Nobody can see it," Delbrück says, "just what it does, like blowing on your hair." Gabby asks, "Is it like a ghost?" Delbrück has to ponder that briefly before replying, "Ja...I suppose it is. A nice ghost, though. Wind won't hurt you." A fresh breeze arises; this time Gabby doesn't cry out in fear, but holds out her arms, and laughs when her hair waves around. "It's tickling me, Herr Jan!" Delbrück forces a small smile at her but inside, he's wincing at the thought of a child who's never felt rain or wind before.

They continue walking along the paths. Gabby collects leaves, makes little pictures with them, lets out a dismayed sound when they blow away--"Naughty wind!"--she gathers colorful pebbles instead, makes more pictures, leaves them behind as she skips into the grass. She pets the ground as if it's a cat: "Soft!" She spots a puddle and runs toward it, yet Delbrück hurries to grab her up and pull off her shoes first; she splashes around happily, exclaiming, "I'm walking on rain, Herr Jan!"--and "Honk, honk!--I'm eine Gans"--she flaps her arms.

"Ohhh!" a smartly dressed woman coos as they walk along once more, Delbrück carrying Gabby's shoes until her feet can dry off, "what an adorable little child!" She bends down to look Gabby in the eyes. "Hallo, little girl! Are you having fun...?" Gabby clutches Delbrück's hand, peers up at him, and murmurs, "Is she your friend too, Herr Jan...?" Delbrück blushes furiously--him being Mirjam's "friend" has distinct connotations different from most uses of the word, something Gabby can't possibly know--yet a more pressing issue arises. "'Herr Jan'...?" the woman echoes, perplexed; "Ah...she means me," Delbrück says, at which the woman gets a very odd look and says, "She calls you Herr Jan?" Delbrück realizes that Mirjam's hope--that Gabby could pass as Aryan--has proven TOO true--this woman has assumed they're father and daughter. "She...ah...she's the daughter of a distant cousin," he hastens to say as he picks Gabby up, "we don't talk much." The woman seems to accept the explanation; she apologizes for the assumption, says she'll stop bothering them now, waves goodbye to Gabby--"Tschüss!"--and strolls off. Delbrück lets out another breath.

"Do you have a lot of friends, Herr Jan?" Gabby asks as they continue on their way; Delbrück thinks a moment, then admits, "Nein...not really." Truth to tell, he has acquaintances, but he can't really say he has anyone he would call a friend. Gabby says, "I have a lot of friends!"--perplexing him at first--before adding, "Mama, and Frau Bitterlich, and the women we live with, they're all my friends"--his heart hurts realizing that Gabby's "friends" are a bunch of prostitutes. She's probably never even seen another child. He's relieved that she doesn't follow that up with any more awkward questions...this entire outing by now has him thinking and feeling a lot of things he always preferred to let be.

By now, it's starting to get late, the sky beginning to purple, the shadows growing long. "A little bit longer...?" Gabby pleads. She waves goodbye to the geese, her skipping slows, she starts yawning. "I don't want to go home yet," she pouts, only to yawn even wider and murmur, "I miss Mama." Delbrück puts her on his shoulders and heads for the edge of the park. "Look, Herr Jan," she says, and points upward; "someone poked a bunch of holes in the sky." Delbrück feels a pang again; "Sterne," he says, "those are stars." "Like the ones Mama and me are supposed to wear?" Gabby asks, and it takes everything Delbrück has to mumble, "Ja...just like those."

Gabby has dozed off by the time they reach the limo waiting at the edge of the park; Cranz takes them back to Frau Bitterlich's. Mirjam is beside herself by now; Delbrück apologizes for taking so long as she takes back her sleepy daughter and hugs her tight. Everything went well, Gabby enjoyed her day, he reassures her; she's a bit too emotional to respond much just yet, but does murmur, "Danke, danke," repeatedly as she takes Gabby back up to their room, and Delbrück heads back to the labor camp.

Delbrück lies on his bunk most of the night staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Thinks about the woman assuming that Gabby was his daughter. Realizes that the thought of having a child isn't as bad as he'd claimed, especially seeing the happiness on her face as she played in the park, and the relief and love on Mirjam's face once she returned. He thinks maybe now he understands what Mirjam meant when she said it's complicated and can't really be explained. Delbrück's long felt that life has no real meaning...it's just never really bothered him before now. And seeing how life has so much meaning for someone who's been through such awful things, someone who his own people have deemed unworthy of life, well...he wonders now what exactly he's been missing, and if it's too late for him to have it.

While watching the camp yard the next day, sharing cigarettes with the kapo, Schindel, Delbrück asks him if he has any kids. Schindel gets quite an awkward look as if unsure whether he's actually meant to respond, so Delbrück gestures to tell him he can talk freely. "My...my wife was with child when I was...brought here," Schindel says, choosing his words carefully, apparently still wondering if this is some sort of trap; "Boy or girl?" Delbrück asks, at which Schindel looks REALLY uncomfortable and says, "Ahm...I don't know...I don't know where my wife is, or for sure if she's still alive." Delbrück's gotten so used to Schindel's company that he forgot he's just another Jew, another prisoner, nothing like him--he nods hastily to acknowledge how stupid his question was, and doesn't protest when Schindel excuses himself to go patrol the yard. Here's the thing, though...even a lowly kapo has a wife and child and a lot more purpose in life than he has. Delbrück feels like his blinkers have been removed; he has far too many thoughts and feelings to deal with now, and no idea how to handle them. All because Mirjam wanted Gabby to experience one good day. Has anyone else ever had an existential crisis triggered by a toddler...?

Mirjam goes a long period without seeing Delbrück when he's drafted to head to the Eastern Front late in the war; Frau Bitterlich's other girls watch uneasily as the freshly assembled SS units march past, and one of them recognizes "Herr Jan" as he goes by. Mirjam knows the reputation of the Red Army troops, as well as just how Germany has been faring in battle, and agonizes over Delbrück's possible fate. Rumor has it that this is just the beginning of the end. Some time later the troops return in a grand parade, but Delbrück privately confides in Mirjam that it's merely for show: His unit and others were called back before they could achieve any decisive victory, he believes to stage the parade and boost the citizens' flagging morale. Germany's defeat is looking more and more imminent. Even as he returns to his job at the camp, Delbrück tells Mirjam to be ready to flee or fight if she has to. To which Mirjam replies, "Flee where? I don't have anyone or anywhere to go."

This isn't entirely true, as some questioning reveals: Mirjam has an uncle and a cousin. Both lapsed Jews, they've managed to escape notice so far as they live far out in the countryside. Thing is, Mirjam has no way to get in contact with them, and isn't even sure if they're alive. She figures Delbrück is too wrapped up in his own issues to remember this particular detail, yet he does. As Allied troops are reported to be on their way toward the city, and the SS starts cracking down on citizens trying to flee, Delbrück decides to get out while the getting's good. The story of what happens next is detailed in the following entries: Jan Delbrück, Mirjam Zweifel, Hermine Cranz.

Delbrück manages to locate the old farm Mirjam's relatives live on and leaves Mirjam and Gabriele there, then departs, despite their calls of "Herr Jan--?" Her cousin, who had confronted Delbrück with a rifle when he appeared, takes them in to be tended to; they haven't seen each other since before this all started, so she's surprised by Gabby's existence, and even asks, after Mirjam hints at what happened, if the SS officer who left her here is Gabby's father. Mirjam says no...Herr Jan's never hurt her. She would be dead now if not for him. Her cousin and uncle can't understand why a Nazi would go to such lengths to save a Jew and her Mischling daughter who isn't even his...Mirjam can't explain it for them. It's complicated.

Gabby asks her mother, as she's being tucked in bed later that night, where Herr Jan is, if he's all right. Mirjam can't answer this, either. She figures he's likely to be captured and executed, whether by his own people as a deserter, or by the Allies as an enemy, it hardly matters. Indeed, quite a while passes as the Allies capture the city, subdue the German troops, and start the process of denazification. The one silver lining is that the American troops reach the city first, so it's largely spared the wrath of the Red Army. After some time, avenues of both communication and transport begin to open up again, and Herr and Fräulein Zweifel tentatively resume trading farm goods with people in the city. It's an especially difficult time full of food shortages and inflation, so their business, however limited, is greatly appreciated.

Mirjam accompanies her uncle into the city one day while Gabby stays with her cousin, and spots a familiar face: Delbrück, though he's in civilian clothes now, and has stubble on his face. It's clear he recognizes her too when she hails him, yet he insists that he's not Herr Jan, he's Bruno Lehmbruck. Mirjam immediately understands, though at her uncle's prompting--he's rather nearsighted, and never got a good look at Delbrück when he left Mirjam and Gabby at the farm, so he doesn't recognize him now--offers him a job on the farm. Gabby, too, hasn't forgotten "Herr Jan," who her mother introduces as her friend, Herr Bruno. Although a bit puzzled about why his name is different, she's used to unusual "games"--such as the "keep-quiet" game she always played with her mother while hiding under the stairs at Frau Bitterlich's--so she figures Herr Jan is playing a game now, too. "Hallo, Gabby," he says, just like old times, and "Hallo," Gabby returns the greeting. Delbrück...Lehmbruck...smiles.

I haven't yet explored the remainder of Gabriele's life, what sort of person she grows up to be. Does she ever meet Hanna Schindel, or the Cranzes again...? Does she ever gain any half-siblings...? Because although it's awkward at first (Fräulein Zweifel DOES recognize Delbrück when he comes to the farm, and privately warns him that she'll be keeping a hawk's eye on him), Delbrück remains on the Zweifel farm, and his and Mirjam's feelings haven't changed. The situation is complicated, yet Delbrück rather feels he understands it, now...and every time Gabby happily greets him--"Hallo, Herr Bruno!"--he forgets what it ever felt like to not like children.

[Gabriele Zweifel 2024 [‎Friday, ‎October ‎11, ‎2024, ‏‎12:01:17 AM]]

[jacks-tracks]

Covid March 2024

Covid? Really? After dodging this disease since it began through 4 countries , I got it on a mexican plane. Only one on the plane wearing a mask, which proves the conspiracy theory.. Masks give you Covid.

I had no symptoms until arriving in Corozal, then accelerating from a dry cough to sneezing, low fever, lethargy. Hard to tell lethargy from laziness, but the fever was the tell tale. Tested positive(hot red lines instantly 2 days in a row), rats. So, self isolate for 10 days from 1st symptoms, which may be more than needed, but folks here are mostly not vaccinated, so best be safe.

Luckily I'm staying in a little house, with hot plate, tiny fridge, and choice of fan or AC. Comfy bed, airy porch with Adirondack chairs, hot shower. Air B&B, and the landlady lives in the big house, so she checked on me daily. She runs a dog rescue center here, currently 6 dogs as well as her own fat German shepard and even fatter Staffordshire. These are all friendly dogs and I'm one of the pack, giving neck rubs and pets equally. like all tropical dogs, they sleep most of the day, saving up for the nightly barkfest, when all the dogs in the neighbourhood(and everybody has at least one dog) bark out the news, scaring imaginary thieves, making a racket and generally having dog fun. Earplugs.

Being sick away from home is boring. There,s nothing to do except watch old movies and veg out. I do have a food delivery service, ordering on Whats app and getting stuff dropped off by motorcycle courier. Small fee, and way easier than shopping my self in a series of tiny stores. I can get lots of fruit, especially citrus for vitamin C, and chicken fully frozen. All commercial chickens in Belize are factory produced and frozen. Sanitary I hope. Potatoes, onions, peppers, all are here. There is a tiny fruit stand one half mile down the road who had one of the best papayas I,ve ever tasted. So, eat, doze, internet. Sounds like a winter at home except it's 32 degrees.

Bloody hot,pretty humid, with a strong trade wind to stir the air. Days a re 12 hours long, with happy mosquitoes at night (screens) which means no sitting out in the tropical evenings. That's a travel agent myth. Everyplace I,ve been has mosquitoes, from Bali to Hanoi, Costa Rica to Mexico. That's how Dengue spreads as well as Malaria. Never had malaria despite so much tropical traveling, and never want it!

Corozal is flat, hot and boring. there are no beaches, just muck, and no scenic attractions. There are some tiny ruins, but having climbed most of the pyramids in CA, so what. Seems like a place where weary travelers crossed the Mexican border and stalled. Mostly blacks with some chinese, and an increasing population of Mexicans and central americans,. Supposedly an English speaking country, lots speak only Spanish, and the locals have an accent that needs google translate. Friendly enough, but crime is rife, and there,s no safe nightlife. A typical 3rd world mix of very poor and very rich with a thin layer of rising middle class. The traditional wooden homes raised up on pilings are being replaced by the more durable, bug proof cement block shacks. These vary from simple cubicles to 3 story palaces, depending on the owners wealth. The handyman here tells about earlier times when he had a Dory(rowboat) on the New river which divides Belize from mexico and had a thriving trade, moving bales of grass into Mexico and illegal immigrants into Belize. Boats would anchor offshore to drop off goods. Were there police? Yes, he said, but only 3 of them, and they wanted no trouble. Then came cocaine, big money, gangs, and cartels.Guns and gang wars. He quit in time, but now there are shoot outs, contract killings, and , trouble. Parts of the highway are no go zones at night, and chopped up bodies get dumped into the cane fields to be burned beyond recognition. Ugh!

I recall 20 years ago meeting a nice local guy in Placencia who had built some beautiful hardwood cabins for rent. Financed by bale fishing. What's that i asked? Drug runners chased by coast guard boats would dump their sealed bales of pot(50 pounds each), and locals would recover some for resale. my friend found 3, and sold the first one to the dealers for $5000. Second time they told him 2500,and when he brought the 3rd one they flourished guns and said he had to work for them. He said take this one for free and I no longer have a boat, goodbye.. Made enough cash to build his resort and retire. While we were chatting a gorgeous woman came bleary eyed out of the cabin, Miss Belize 3 years before. She was there with her boyfriend, shaved headed and wild eyed. Just out of Belize prison, one of the worst in the world. He did 4 years for manslaughter. Hey, my friend asked, how's Jimmy doing in there? Oh said Mr convict. He got the chop! What? Yah mon, we standing side by side in the morning count line when somebody behind him reach around and cut his throat. Nobody say nothing. Literally: Hey mon, how Jeemy do dere? Oh, heem. He done got da chop.Say wha? Yah mon, we all standin in da mawnin count line and some foker dey reach about and slash him troat. Nobody say nuttin, yo knaow?

I do meet interesting people! Makes covid sound like fun!

[whitepolaris]

Deep into the Valley of Death We Go

Perhaps Death Valley’s name is what gives the land its sinister, otherworldly reputation. Certainly, the searing heat and the moonscape panoramas also contribute to the mystery that surrounds the park. 

And of course there are the legends. Tales tell of rotting wagons and gingham dress-clad skeletons half buried in the shifting sands, of the fabulously rich Lost Gunsight Mien and Breyfogle’s elusive gold vein. 

A more macabre mythology has taken hold in the wake of serial killer Charles Manson’s capture here in 1969. Manson retreated to Death Valley with his gang of killer flower children after two bloody nights of slaughter that he hoped would set off a cataclysmic race war. An adherent of a variety of occult doctrines, Manson believed that Devil’s Hole, a deep, water-filled cavern on Death Valley’s Nevada side, was the portal to an underground world where he and his followers could wait out the apocalypse, reemerging as leaders of a purified world. But he was arrested before he could figure out how to get his band through several feet of hot, salty water that had drowned two skin divers just a few years earlier. 

Manson may have learned of the underground world from a story of Tom Wilson, a Cahroc Indian who was a Death Valley guide in the 1920s. Wilson said that he had found a tunnel that extended for miles beneath the valley. Walking its length, the man ended up in an underground chamber where a race of fair-skinned people dwelt. The people spoke a strange foreign language, whose clothes made of leatherlike substance, and illuminated their home with a pale greenish yellow light of unknown origin. 

The Indian eventually resurfaced and returned to his people, who were skeptical about his adventure. But Tom Wilson believe that the old man hadn’t lied, and he spent the rest of his life searching for the entry to this underground world. At one point, he teamed up with a prospector named White, who claimed that he too had found a strange underground dwellings in Death Valley. 

White’s story was that he had been exploring an abandoned mine in Wingate Pass when he fell into a hidden tunnel that led to a series of rooms that were filled with leather-clad human mummies. Gold bars and other fabulous treasures were stacked in piles around them. There was a passageway leading beyond the rooms as well, lit by an eerie greenish yellow light. White dared not explore any farther, fearful of what might lie beyond. 

He visited the rooms three more times, once with his wife and once with another prospector. But he was unable to locate the cavern later, when accompanied by Wilson and a group of archaeologists. The area around Wingate Pass was eventually absorbed into the China Lake Naval Weapons Center and is now closed to the public. 

But other mysteries sites in Death Valley are still accessible. One is the Amargosa Mountains, in the southeast corner of the valley. Years ago a desert rat was driving through this range in his Jeep when he came to a group of boulders blocking the road. He parked his vehicle, found a narrow pass between the rocks, and walked down into a sandy valley, where he saw about thirty wooden buildings half covered by sand dunes and laid out like a planned community. 

The explorer went inside some of the buildings and found wooden tables set for meals, brass candlesticks, scraps of cloth, and even an empty picture frame on the wall. There were no human remains, and no signs of violence or natural disaster. 

No ghost turns were known to exist in these arid mountains. Whether the unnamed explorer had really located a lost community or was just spinning a tall tale has never been determined. 

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝the garrison rat❞ CHP 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

previous / next

summary: torn apart by an unexpected loss, you find yourself unable to leave birmingham. you’re aware that people notice you drinking in the garrison every other night, you’re aware they call you nicknames, but you don’t care about any of it— at least, not until you start speaking to john shelby. he’s looking for a wife and you vowed to never love again, which makes things a bit complicated.

warnings: fluff concerning the possibility of the L word (and it’s not lesbians), brief smut, (it’s finally happening folks!!!) it’s still unclear whether reader is an alcoholic or not but we might be verging into that territory now, alcohol-based hallucinations, mentions of past cocaine addiction, and of course angst concerning grief

word count: 2.2k

tag list: @datewithgianni @1950schick @clementinesjourney @cbouvier23 @smailaway @cedricscoffin @buckysjuicyplums @belledawnidk

a/n: i am slowly running out of john gifs to use, lol. i’ve been meaning to learn how to make my own! anyway, we’re pretending it hasn’t been 25 hours since i posted chapter six :)

//////

Hours had passed with you alone in your apartment. You hadn’t figured out what to do with yourself just yet; you’d gotten a bottle of wine on the angry way home, and had been alternating between guzzling it and cleaning up the mess you’d made in the apartment that you’d never had the chance to clean up.

Cushions that had been slashed open, emptied of their stuffing and thrown on the ground went into the garbage; clothes previously torn out of your closet were washed, dried, folded and put away; the remnants of glass in your kitchen had been swept up and tossed and you were in a drunken stupor by the end of it. Had you been paying closer attention to your body, you would’ve noticed the ghost of Sam whispering to you, warning you that you were going to drink yourself into a coma if you kept this up, but of course you ignored it.

God, your emotions controlled you more than you controlled them. Sometimes it was fiery and free, but most of the time you hated it.

As soon as the last of what had once been a pretty ceramic mug had been thrown into the garbage, you sat back on the couch and sighed. Regret was coming over you now. You knew you needed to apologize to John before the wedding, but you were hardly in the right state of mind to do so.

In response to that, you reached for the wine glass you’d been drinking out of for the past few hours and filled it with that thick, cherry red liquid.

You’ll drink yourself into a coma, Sam whispered again, but you ignored it.

They had this type of wine at your wedding, you remembered. Before they had gotten deep into gang wars in the midst of the First World War, the Lees had owned a vineyard by the old house Esme lived in: they grew their own grapes and, if Sam’s stories were to be believed, every summer was spent alternating between getting unbelievably drunk and getting high on snow.

To you, it was endearing how much it sounded like the hot, sweltering summers you used to endure in Nevada, when you were in the process of weaning yourself off cocaine— maybe the fiery heat of summer was what drew you both together.

Back in the present, you paused and drank deeply, staring up at the ceiling of that shitty apartment. You hadn’t noticed that water damage stain before, but you were too deep in your thoughts to care.

You were sure that fiery type of emotion drew you to John, too. God, the way he looked at you when he sat besides you in that booth at the Garrison— “Different, huh?” he’d mumbled with that fucking smile on his face— it inspired a feeling so bittersweet inside of you, it made you want to claw your heart out of your chest.

Jesus, fuck. You wished Sam were here to talk you out of this pointless engagement.

You closed your eyes and let your hand drift into the air above you. You could visualize him if you tried hard enough— if you closed your eyes, you’d see him again.

Your stomach lurched, subliminally begging for you to sober up, but of course you ignored it.

Brown eyes, freckles dotted across his cheeks, that kind of sly smile that stretched across his face, made dimples deepen, had you lighting a fire in your stomach. Calluses on his fingers and that ugly gunshot scar on the back of his hand when George Lee had accidentally shot him at the gun range when they were Finn’s age.

You breathed deeply through your nose, feeling the tears release and run down your cheeks, and then you felt him.

Tough skin caressing your fingers. A voice that sounded like honey. His choked kind of breathless laugh that was somehow the softest thing you’d ever heard.

“Y/N, you need to listen to me, alright? I’m always gonna be in love with you. I mean - fuckin’ Christ. I’m so fucking in love with you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His voice was an echo, but it sounded so real. You knew he was smiling that smile that now tore you up from the inside.

“You wanna just stay in bed all day, yeah? You can do that. We got time to do that. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“We don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do,” you mumbled to yourself. Your arm was still ghostly poised in the air.

“I’m always gonna be with you, y’know that? It’s just you and me. As for the rest of the world, fuck ‘em. I need you, Y/N. I fuckin’ need you.”

Tears were rolling freely down your face now, it felt like your whole face was wet. Snot was dripping down your lips, it was a while before you could catch your breath.

Your voice came out choked. “I fuckin’ need you too, Sam.”

There was a beat: his voice changed.

“Can you do one thing for me?” he asked softly.

“Anything,” you whispered back. “Anything, I love you, you know that.”

“I need you to put down the bottle,” he replied. “I need you to walk to bed.”

You did what he said: the bottle of wine and the glass went onto the coffee table, and you wandered into your tiny bedroom like a zombie. You never wanted to let go of the warmth of him.

When he spoke again, his voice was thick in your ears, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“I need you to get in. Get as comfortable as you can.”

You complied: for the first time in months, your ratty blankets felt warm. You brought your legs up to your chest, unabashedly curled up like a little kid, and kept your eyes closed.

You could feel Sam’s hand on your shoulder now. Warm, like molten gold.

“I need you to know that everything is going to be alright, okay? You’re going to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“John’s a bad man,” you mumbled out to the stretch of darkness you were seeing through your closed eyes.

To your surprise, Sam laughed. “On the surface, maybe. But he’s good. I can tell he is. Bit reckless, maybe - four children at twenty-four, that’s fucking mental, eh?”

You giggled like a teenager. “He makes my eyes roll up into the back of my head, it’s not hard to understand why he has that many kids.”

Sam snorted, and you laughed again, just to feel that whole-hearted warmth.

Whole.

You hadn’t felt this whole in a year.

Sensing this, Sam went quiet.

“I want you to get some rest, darling.”

As you drew your blankets up to your chin, you felt a phantom kiss on your temple.

His lips. Soft and full, even though he smoked constantly.

Sweet dreams, my love.

//////

Halfway across town, John woke with a start.

For a minute he’d thought that he’d woken up in the middle of the night, but when he groped for the clock on the nightstand and took a glimpse at it, it told him that it was 4 PM in the afternoon— he’d slept for an entire day, and none of the Shelbys had come to wake him.

Paranoid, worried about having somehow missed Black Star Day even though it was planned for a week ahead, John stumbled out of bed, shuffled into his rumpled, three-piece suit he’d worn two days ago, stuck a fresh toothpick in his mouth, and shuffled downstairs into the betting shop, distorted thoughts of possibly visiting Zhang’s filled his head.

Unsurprisingly, Arthur was there at the table, smoking a cigar and attempting to read what looked like yesterday’s morning paper.

“Where’s everyone?” John asked warily, stopping short.

“Gone to the Lees, I s’pose,” he answered without looking up. “They’ve gone to sort out the dowry for that girl of yours.”

Arthur snorted and turned a page. “You should see the size of it, I’ll tell you right now.”

Unconvinced, John glanced at the chalkboard used for keeping track of bets and schedules. You’d be at work right now, and his kids would most likely be somewhere driving those nuns at the preparatory school up the wall.

Most likely— he never was totally sure, anyway. Jesus, he really needed to get a better hold on his kids.

“Let me know if Y/N swings by the Parlour,” he told Arthur curtly, then stomped out the door.

//////

You did, in fact, swing by the Parlour: two hours after you’d gotten off of work, you changed into your best dress to deliver the Lees’ finest set of china to the house. You’d fought tooth and nail to come there alone, Zilpha in particular had put up a fight— resulting in the sharpest back and forth in the Romani language you’d ever heard— but truth be told, you couldn’t care less about the dowry, you were just looking for a chance to apologize to John.

Upon coming inside, you met Polly, apparently alone and serenely painting her nails at the kitchen table.

“Hi,” you started awkwardly, “This - uh - this is, my dowry, y’know, for the wedding-“

“Leave it on the table,” she shot back flatly, never looking up at you.

You were crippled with awkwardness now. Fuck, where was that confidence you’d possessed two days ago? “Is John here?”

Polly still didn’t look at you. “He’s upstairs.”

Upstairs.

“Thank you,” you replied after a tense beat, and mentally cursing yourself for your lack of grace, you placed the china on the table and shuffled upstairs.

The air up here was unnaturally still, and it smelled like vanilla. The unexpected sweetness had you on edge.

Praying that your drunken memory was serving you right, you nudged open the door that you thought was John’s, and stepped inside.

Sure enough, John was standing with his back to you, staring out of the window.

Upon hearing the door creak, he turned and almost jumped when he saw you.

“Y/N!”

You took a deep breath. “John, I-“

Then, quite confusingly, you both started speaking at once.

“God, I’m sorry, I acted like such a fuckin’ dolt, and I went about it so foolishly-”

“-It’s on me, I don’t even know why I made such a big deal of it at the Garrison like that-”

“-It’s just that-”

“I - I-”

You both stopped at the same time, looking at each other like deer in headlights, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“I bought you flowers,” John put in sheepishly, gesturing towards the windowsill. “Don’t judge me, it was Finn’s idea.”

The tension had successfully been broken: you laughed, feeling warmth rush in your chest. “You didn’t have to, it’s fine.”

“Are we good?” he asked you anxiously, and you nodded immediately.

After a beat, you reached out to hug him.

“We’re gonna get married soon,” you whispered in his ear, and you saw the hairs on his neck raise. “I figured we don’t need the extra stress.”

“Are you ever gonna tell me what got you so worked up about Black Star Day?” John breathed back.

There was the smallest moment of hesitation: the words were right there, all you had to do was coax them onto your tongue.

Waiting. You were waiting, everything was waiting.

His face was so close.

Three words to say.

Just three words.

Say it.

It didn’t matter: in the end, you were a coward.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered instead, looking up at him.

For a moment, he said nothing. There was a storm darkening on his face, and you had no idea what it meant.

“You have no idea what kind of effect you have on people,” he muttered, after what seemed like an eternity.

Confusion sprung into your eyebrows. “What?”

John was struggling to hide the grin pulling at his lips. “Ever since I saw you in the Garrison, no one else has been worth thinking about, y’know that?”

You opened your mouth and closed it, unsure of what to say. There was a heartbeat between your legs, impossible to ignore, and you weren’t sure you could verbally say what you meant.

You could definitely say it physically, though.

Your breath catching in your throat, you pushed your lips onto his, and sensing your need, John’s hands slid under your ass to lift you up.

The bedsprings creaked horribly as he tossed you onto the bed, but you didn’t care: you scrambled up to grab his hand and pressed it to the heat blossoming between your legs.

“Yours,” you breathed, and somehow the confirmation was stronger than those three cursed words always on the tip of your tongue. “Yours whenever you need it, you hear me?”

“Mine, eh?” John repeated, and you couldn’t help your grin as he found the zipper on the back of your dress and tugged it down, exposing completely bare skin. “This fucking pussy’s mine now, is it?”

“All yours, always has been.”

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”

[xxmoodslimexx]

“Come on, let’s get you away from there.” with egon please, the way i simp for this man i,,,

Let’s get you away from there.

Egon Spengler x reader

((Aka the boys rescue y/n during a bust))

“Isn’t this amazing? These catacombs are over three hundred years old! It’s likely no one’s been down here for at least a century.”

“What tipped you off to that one, Ray? Was it the inches of dust and cobwebs or the overwhelming smell of rat corpses?”

You rolled your eyes at Peter, even if he probably couldn’t see it in the dark. The only light in the stone tunnels you and the team were exploring was the overhead flashlights you all wore. Ray and Egon had planned the excursion after mapping out the ‘river of slime’ you’d all dealt with before and concluding there may be more underground areas that needed clearing out. Well, it was one way to spend a Friday afternoon.

You gasped as your foot suddenly slid out from under you. Before you could hit the ground a strong pair of hands caught you and kept you steady. You squinted through a flashlight and met familiar brown eyes.

“Are you alright?” Egon asked.

You smiled and nodded. “I’m fine.. Though not sure I can say the same for my shoe.”

The gang gathered round and looked down at your boot. The sole was covered in a shiny, gooey substance. Naturally, Egon knelt down to get a sample.

“Well, it seems like we’re on the right track,” he concluded, “now might be a good time to - ”

He was interrupted by a sudden blast of wind. One that shouldn’t have been possible given how far underground you were. Everyone had proton packs at the ready within seconds.

“You weren’t going to say split up now, were you Egon?” Winston scoffed.

Before Egon could reply, an unearthly blue glow filled the tunnels and ghostly screeches echoed off the walls.

“Light ‘em up!” Venkman yelled.

“No!” You cried, “the passage is too narrow, we’ll hit each other! We’ll be better booking it to one of the chambers we saw on the map!”

Egon’s heart swelled with pride. “They’re right!” He confirmed, “move!”

No one wasted a single moment bolting down the stone hall. The screeches, wails and laughter of the spectres hot on your trail only grew louder, as did the pounding of your boots against the stone.

“There!” Ray yelled as he rounded a corner, pointing to the end of the corridor, “watch the slime! It’s getting thicker!”

You were panting already, running with an extra thirty pounds strapped to your back wasn’t easy, but you kept on making that final push. You watched as the team crossed the threshold one by one, immediately pulling out traps ready for the ghosts. Only a few steps before you’d join them and then..

Your foot hit something wet and slick. You might have regained your balance if it weren’t for the speeding ghouls passing overhead and the weight of your equipment throwing you off. With a crash you hit the floor and skidded across the slimy until you hit a wall. The wind was completely knocked from your lungs and for a disorientating moment you weren’t sure if you’d made it to the chamber or not. The boys were calling your name. You groaned and curled in on yourself, ready to get up and fight but before you could move something grabbed your ankle and dragged you back where you came from. You screamed and clawed at the dirt and stone beneath you but you were moving too fast. The cold ethereal hands around your ankles had a grip you suspected might leave a mark, as would the various scrapes you were getting along the way.

Eventually, bruised and breathless, you were slammed against a final wall and laid to rest. This time you got to your feet right away despite the pain.. Just in time to see your new ghost friends seal a stone door and trap you in.

“No!” You stepped forward and slammed your already stinging fists on the door even though you knew it was pointless. Then you tried stepping back and blasting it with your proton stream instead, but that only resulted in scratching the surface and heating up the already stuffy and claustrophobic space. Your heart began to race as panic set in.

“Y/N! Y/N, sweetheart, come in! Are you alright!?”

The radio! You fumbled with your equipment and put the radio to your lips. “Egon!” You breathed, “yeah, I’m here. I’m okay.”

Peter’s voice scoffed over the line. “Uh - ‘here’ isn’t gonna cut it, kiddo. Where’s here?”

You scowled. “Sorry I didn’t stop to take notes while I was being dragged through the dirt, Venkman! I didn’t see you guys stepping in to help out!”

“Woah! Easy there, tiger! We had our own problems!”

“Peter, I swear - ” You choked on the next few words and coughed violently on dust and proton vapours, “- look, I’m trapped, okay!? I think it’s a tomb or something. You’ve got to come get me out!”

“That doesn’t really narrow it down - ”

“We’ve got it, Peter,” Egon interrupted, “we can find them. We’ll be there as soon as we can, y/n, I promise. We’re on our way.”

You smiled, knowing that there was little to no way Egon knew where you were, so he was just trying to keep you calm and stop Peter from scaring you further. He was sweet like that.

You leaned back against a wall and held the radio to your chest for a moment as though that would somehow bring you closer to your boys. Beneath the fabric of your uniform you could still feel the rapid, panicky thump of your heart and irregular rise and fall of your chest. If you didn’t calm down soon you’d hyperventilate, but it wasn’t as though you had fresh air to take deep breaths with. Egon’s voice came over the radio once more, quieter this time.

“Y/N, it’s just me now. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

“Not really,” you sighed, “but.. It’s sealed tight in here.. I’m..” You didn’t want to say the word but you couldn’t really deny it any longer. “I’m scared.”

“Try not to worry,” he soothed, “would it help if I stayed on the line?”

You smiled. Before you could answer he spoke again.

“Actually - Would you mind if I stayed on the line anyway? I’d feel better knowing you’re conscious.”

The smile grew to a grin. “Yeah, I think I’d feel better too.. Though you’ve just made me feel like I’m going to drop at any second from lack of air or.. I don’t know - Dust on the lungs or something.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but the more you thought about it the more you thought about it the more unsettled you became.

“Sorry,” Egon said, “let’s talk about something else.. I really enjoyed the museum the other day, I wondered if you might want to do it again sometime?”

You laughed. The two of you had taken a rare day off and spent the day in various history and science museums together. It was a dream. Egon held your hand and made dumb puns about the exhibits to make you laugh and had even bought you souvenirs from your favourite parts. Turns out he’d been paying more attention to you than the displays.

“Of course I would,” you told him, “it’s not me you’ve got to convince, it’s your work ethic.”

“Oh, I think you’re a little more tempting than testing a interspatial teleportation unit.”

“Yeah?”

“Just a little,” he teased.

“Ugh, get a room!” Peter’s voice called over the radio, but you could hear him outside too.

You jumped to attention and ran to slam your hands on the door once again. “I’m here! Guys, I’m in here!”

“Y/n!” You heard a chorus of muffled voices from the other side of the wall. A breath of relief escaped you.

“Okay, y/n, stand back, we’re gonna blast the door down,” Ray said excitedly. Fear struck you like lightning.

“No!” You cried out, placing both palms flat on the stone like it would somehow stop them.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You glanced back at the tomb. It was small and cramped and you already couldn’t breathe right and the thought of the wall coming down and creating more dust and smoke, not to mention debris that could crush you altogether.

“I can’t - ” Your lungs threatened to burst. “- Egon, I’ll get crushed under the stone, I can’t - ”

“Okay,” Egon’s calm, soothing voice came through once more, “we won’t go until you’re ready, I promise. Do you have somewhere you could take cover?”

You turned to look at the room again. There were spaces in the wall where you supposed coffins or bodies or something could go.. Spiders too. In the middle of the room was a large stone sarcophagus. The lid would be too heavy for you to move, but you could crouch behind it.. Not that that solved the air quality problem.

“Y/n?” Egon gently probed. It was enough to give you that little bit of courage you need for the next few steps.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “yeah, I’m taking cover now.”

“Take your time,” he said, “we’re right here.”

Once you were sat behind the sarcophagus it just about came up to your shoulders, so you’d still have to suck your head. It was still preferable to the holes in the wall.

“Okay,” you push out a breath, “okay.. Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure. I’d never risk your safety,” Egon assured you, “in fact, I’m almost certain that the walls around us are more structurally sound than the firehouse was when we first moved there.”

Peter scoffed over the line. “Yeah! And we still let Ray play with explosives then, so you’ll be fine.”

“Ready?” Egon asked one last time.

You braced yourself before committing to an answer. “Ready.”

Egon wisely chose to cut the line so you couldn’t quite make out what was being said on the other side of the wall. You pulled your knees up to your chest and your forehead to your knees.

The wait must have only been a few seconds long but they felt like agonising hours, and then it happened - A bang that rang through your ears and shook through your bones. You shrieked and covered your ears and closed your eyes even though it was too late and curled up even tighter. You could hear rock crumble all round you and even felt a few smaller ones land on or whizz past you. The smaller ones stung, but it was better than being crushed completely. You were too frightened to move, the air was too dusty to breathe.

“Y/n! Y/n! Where are you? Are you alright!?” Egon called. Your hands hesitantly came away from your ears. From the sounds of it the guys were scrambling across the rubble or throwing stones away to reach you. The panic and frantic worry in their voices, especially Egon’s, tugged at your heart strings. You took a breath to call back but ended up coughing your lungs up instead. Still, you forced yourself to your feet and turned to face the rock pile the boys had created. It was about waist height and so you were able to see the sheer relief on Egon’s face when he spotted you.

“There you are,” he breathed, “come on, let’s get you away from there.”

He reached out his hand. After climbing over the first few rocks you gratefully accepted it. He held your hand tight and watched you carefully, making you feel safe again.

You stumbled over the rubble and practically collapsed into Egon’s arms. He gave you a hug before pulling back to check over your bruises and scrapes. His fingers ghosted over each scrape oh-so gently and the relieved smile gave way to his steady, serious gaze.

Winston took no such precautions and slapped you right on the back. “All part of the job right, rookie? You doing okay?” He laughed.

“Yeah,” you spluttered, still trying to clear all the soot and stuff from your throat and lungs, “I’m okay.”

“I think we’ve done enough for today, let’s get you out of here,” Egon repeated. He even offered to carry your proton pack for you, but you thought that was a step too far. As a compromise he settled for holding your hand and keeping you under his ever watchful eye.

All the way back the boys excitedly caught you up on the busting you’d missed out on and slowly your anxiety began to decrease. It occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t have got so worked up in the first place.. After all, what did you have to be scared of with not one but four knights in shining armour around?