#this is a long answer but i tried to be thorough in my definition

[gandalfsbignaturals]

what is tme/tma? (sorry i’m cis)

they stand for transmisogyny exempt and transmisogyny affected. nominally they are supposed to label people who are targets of transmisogyny (tma) and people who are not targets of transmisogyny (tme), but in practice they are typically instead defined to mean "trans women, trans femmes, and (sometimes) gnc men" (tma) and "literally everyone else" (tme)

unfortunately, as i have tried to argue, this... isnt really how oppression works, especially considering the queer community necessarily resists hard categorization, and especially binaries

whats more, people who are supposedly tme are frequently the victims of transmisogynistic hatecrimes, something the proponents of the terms usually call "misdirected transmisogyny." i have gripes with this, though, because misdirected bigotry is... well, its still bigotry.

when sikhs (and whats more, any brown person who looked a certain way) were facing a monstrous amount of misdirected islamophobia in the wake of 911, the muslim community did not come out and say "well, they arent really muslim, so the islamophobic attacks on them dont count." nor did the sikhs and others use it as an excuse to attack islam! instead, they recognized that the bigots didnt actually care about the specific labels of the people they were attacking. all they cared was that someone was brown, and that they practiced a foreign religion, and that was enough.

likewise, when gentiles are attacked by antisemites for defending or associating with jewish people, those jewish people do not say, "you are not jewish, and therefore this doesnt count." instead, they acknowledge that, once again, the bigots in this instance dont actually care about the specifics of the lives led by those theyre attacking. i cannot imagine a jewish synagogue denying aid to a victim of an antisemitic attack, even if they are not jewish.

similarly, when a queer or gnc person is attacked by a transphobe for performing gender wrong, that transphobe doesnt actually care what particular label or lifestyle the person theyre attacking subscribes too. a trans man with some stubble in a dress is the same as a non-passing trans woman to them. a burly woman with higher than average testosterone going into the womens bathroom is the same as a non-passing trans woman to them. a masculine black woman in baggy clothes is the same as a non-passing trans woman to them. and they will attack accordingly, and no matter how the victim protests that they arent a trans woman, the bigot will not care.

this is all glossing over the fact that, by advocating that people disclose their tma/tme status in their blog description or carrd or whatever, you are effectively asking them to out themself. if you define tme as "not a trans woman," and someone has a trans flag and he/him pronouns on their profile, and you ask them to also include tme on their profile... well, then youre asking them to publicly state what their genitals are. while tma and tme are not defined exclusively based on genitals, it is undeniable that in combination with other readily available information, they can be easily used to determine what someones assigned gender at birth is.

when applied to trans people, tme/tma is just another false binary. it is a poor attempt to categorize a human experience that is simply not divisible into neat little categories, and especially not a binary.

[moonlit-imagines]

Needles and Knives

Jason Todd x reader

warnings: um. needles and knives

a/n: i just wanted to do a tattoo artist au for jason im weak. also no this isnt an nsfw

prompt:

It took a bit of thorough deliberation to figure out just what you'd be getting permanently inked on your body, but eventually you'd been able to settle on a meaningful piece. Quite the piece according to your artist, Jason Todd.

You walked into the studio, a bit dark and dingy in an endearing way. Fortunately, Jason's setup was more clean and organized than the rest of the place. "Sorry for the mess, the other guys aren't as concerned about health code as I am." He chuckled as he walked over to the front desk. "Far as I know, there hasn't even been an inspector here in at least five years." You laughed with him as he got everything set up on his end.

"Thanks for taking me this late," you said, "I'm kind of a night owl."

"You're not the only one." Jason tapped the chair you'd be sitting on for the appointment. "Make yourself comfortable, it's gonna be a pretty long session." You'd picked a nicely sized thigh tattoo that would be roughly three hours long, but Jason said he was in no rush and would only charge for two. You didn't think he was in this for the money, he seemed to like what he did. Or maybe he just liked poking people with needles. Either way it was a good deal and you liked being in the studio late and alone, it was more peaceful this way.

He was as gentle as possible, checking in every few minutes no matter how much you assured him you could take a little pain. Judging by the looks of it, you could say the same about him. There were plenty of scars on his arms from what you could see past his t-shirt sleeves. You tried not to make it obvious as you started observing the rest of his exposed skin for other marks. There was definitely a faint bruise around his eye and a few healing cuts and scrapes under bandages. Maybe he was trying to fool you with the “new tattoo” look the way those bandages were wrapped, but you could tell he got roughed up. You wondered if his knuckles were just as bad under the gloves.

“You alright?” Jason asked once again, wiping away at the ink on your skin.

“Uh-huh.” You dully replied.

“Seem a little nervous.” He commented without looking back at you, dragging the needle across your skin again. “You can’t keep still.”

“Oh.” You mumbled. “Just a little restless. Not used to sitting in one spot this long.” You both chuckled lightly.

“I know the feeling.” Jason responded. “Tattooing is really just a side hustle, I don’t do it all that often.”

“Really? You seem pretty experienced.” You complimented him and took a peek at the work so far. “What’s the ‘main hustle’ then?” You pried and watched his lips curl upwards ever so slightly.

“That’s a secret.” He responds after a moment of hesitation. You thought he was joking—just a bit of a tease—but he never did give you a straight answer. You were forced to keep awkwardly staring at the injuries he’d sustained recently and further back and make your assumptions. Maybe he got in a fight with a bear. Maybe several bears.

“Late night tattooing, huh? Any particular reason?” You innocently asked. He laughed just a little—just enough to embarrass you a little bit—and stopped tattooing.

“Let’s take a break. Can I get you a water?” Jason offered and walked over to the mini fridge.

“Oh, uh, sure?” You accepted. “I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“No, not at all.” He assured, handing you a cool bottle and taking his seat once again. “You’re just full of curiosity. Remind me of my brother. Always asking questions.”

“Not always a bad thing.” You took a sip and checked the work in progress. “Looks promising so far.”

“I’d hope so.” Jason used a paper towel to pat it lightly with a gloved hand. “You’re a bleeder.”

“Needles do that.” You nodded playfully. He was charismatic, made you feel welcome and not like a burden for making him do the work. He liked your design, he helped bring it to life, and he made sure you were comfortable when the needle was in your skin. You were just so curious about who this guy was when he wasn’t in this dump of a tattoo shop. “You ever gonna tell me what the main gig is?”

“I’m a pastor.” Jason answered and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I bet.” You noticed your cheeks start to hurt from the smirk you couldn’t shake since you’d started conversation. “Boxing?”

“You could say that.” Jason agreed with that guess. “Why do you think that?”

“The bruise on your face and all your bandages.” You tilted your head to motion what you’d noticed in your short time together. “Is that not it?”

“Oh, no. Right on the nose.” Jason was either very good at lying or had a very dry sense of humor. Either way, you figured it was time to stop prying. He was, after all, just your tattoo artist.

After a few minutes of cooling down, Jason got back to work. He’d been more focused thaan before, brows furrowed as he lost himself in the detail. That could only benefit you, though. And by the end, the tattoo looked beautiful.

“Thank you, it really looks amazing.” You moved to check all angles in the mirror.

“It was a great piece, I’m glad I did it justice.” Jason started cleaning up as you paid, you said your goodbyes and left the building.

Gotham wasn’t exactly the safest of places and you were pushing 2AM as you walked down the street. Of course you knew walking was not the best mode of transportation, it was the one getting you home tonight. Especially after blowing all that money on your tattoo.

Halfway home, you realized that you were being followed by a group of people that definitely did not know you or have any positive intentions. You picked up the pace and upon realizing this, they began advancing. You thought that it was over for you before loud screams caused you to stop and spin around. There you saw a man in a red mask standing over several unconscious bodies, freshly beaten by himself. Red Hood. “Are you alright?” He asked you, which gave you deja-vu. Even with that mask on, the warped voice, the concern in the question could not thwart you.

“Jason Todd?” You asked in a whisper. The mask didn’t convey any emotions, but the pause in his answer did.

“…No.” He said.

“Yes.” You replied. “Boxing.”

“Let’s not talk here.” He requested, walking along with you to a safer location. It took some time, but you got home okay.

“Were you following me?” You finally got the chance to ask him.

“Yes.” Jason responded honestly. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safely. Luckily, I was there. You make it a habit walking alone in Gotham—at night?”

“I ought to do it more often if it means you’ll be watching.” You slyly flirted with him, adrenaline still pumping a bit from the tattoo and the fear of being attacked on your walk home.

“Oh, how hilarious.” Jason took off his helmet after you let him inside. “Don’t do dumb shit like that again. You’re gonna get that pretty face of yours roughed up if you’re not careful.” He warned in the same flirtatious tone.

“What, like yours?” You tapped the side of your facecthat mirrored his bruise and he nodded.

“This isn’t pretty. And I’ve been through much worse, believe me.” Jason put his helmet back on.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You sat down on your couch. “I’m sure you have other beautiful people to follow home and ensure their safety. Have fun out there.”

“Remember the care tips for that tattoo. That’s some of my best work there.” He pointed sternly as he approached the door.

“You’ll just have to check in and make sure. Maybe you can help me with that, too.” You smiled mischievously and wondered if he was blushing under that helmet.

“Maybe I will.” His mask distorted his voice still and he shook his head. “Make sure to lock this.” Jason reminded as he exited out the front door.

“How will you get back in, then?”

“I’ll knock.”

taglist: @captainshazamerica // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @the-did-i-ask // @azazel-nyx // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[daisies-daydreams]

Oml, hi! I absolutely adore your work, like read everything on Ao3 then came here to read more lol-

Anyway, I was wondering if you could do a Hobie x m!reader where reader is feeling super insecure after a long day at work and tells Hobie about it, then Hobie basically worships reader and all of his insecurities? I noticed you tend to do either gn or fem readers so I hope this request isn’t unreasonable..?

Thank you so much, keep doing you cause that’s what we love,

Bye <3

Hold Me (Hobie Brown x M!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x M!Reader Category: Fluff/Angst Warnings: Swearing, Depictions of Self-Deprecation/Insecurities, Burnout, Toxic Workplaces Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Hello! Thank you so so much for your kind words 🥹 Your request is definitely not unreasonable-I just tend to stick with GN or fem! reader since that’s what interests me the most (though I’m always open to write for other pairings!) Also, I love your icon 😻. I hope you enjoy!

You ran your hand down your face as you slammed the door behind you. Your entire body ached with exhaustion as you slipped your shoes off and chucked them across the foyer of your flat. Your boyfriend, Hobie, leaned across the couch as you walked into the living room.

“Hey, love. How was-“

“It was fine,” you answered curtly. You felt a pang inside your chest at your sudden bluntness, but your body felt like it was on auto-pilot as you shuffled into the bathroom. You locked the door behind you before curling your fingers against your ears. Hot tears threatened to spill from your tired, red eyes as you peeled off your clothes. You quickly hopped in the shower, the emotional dread and fatigue of the day slowly seeping into your bones. You scrubbed yourself clean as you choked on your sobs, the events of the day replaying in your head like a broken record.

You shivered when you stepped out and dried off, the stress of the day making your body feel heavier by the second. You shuffled to your shared bedroom across the hall and hastily pulled on some comfy sweats and t-shirt. A tall shadow cast over you as you pulled your shirt over your head.

“Rough day?” Hobie asked. You hung your head and nodded. He hummed in reply. “Want to-“ you cut his words off when you rushed over and wrapped your arms around him. Hobie sighed and splayed his hand over your back. “Oh, love,” he cooed as he rubbed your lower back. He held you as you soaked his shoulder with bitter tears, his warm body bringing at least a little comfort to your aching heart.

“I-I’m sorry I was rude to you earlier,” you sniffed. Hobie pulled back and kissed your forehead.

“It’s alright,” he assured you. You wiped your eyes.

“I fucked up today, Hobes,” you said in a shaky voice. Hobie’s chocolate brown eyes softened as he held you close. He kept his hand on your hip before tilting his head towards the bed.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked. “If you think it’ll help, that is,” Hobie added. You nodded with a long sigh.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He hummed and slid his hand into yours before leading you towards the queen-sized bed. You swallowed thickly as you sank onto the mattress. Hobie grunted as he sat next to you, one and draped over his thigh and the other wrapped around yours. Your knuckles turning pale as you squeezed his palm. You took a slow, deep breath.

“We had our monthly reviews today and my boss was very…thorough with me,” you began. Hobie remained silent, allowing you the space to continue at your own pace. You sighed. “She said that I’m not trying hard enough, that I’m not progressing as quickly as everyone else at the branch,” you huffed and clenched your jaw. “She just looked so frustrated and disappointed in me. And then I had a customer call in demanding that we return his money, that he’s being ‘scammed’. I tried to explain the situation to him, but he just ended up screaming and cussing me out,” you explained.

“Then I dropped my lunch and didn’t have enough time to grab a full meal, so I had crisps from the vending machine. And to top it all off, my coworkers have been gossiping about me being a…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, a hard lump swelling in your throat. You groaned you caged your hands over your face. “Why can’t I do anything right?” you choked. “I thought I was doing such a good job when I first started…so why am I struggling so much right now?" you clenched your fist. "Why am I so fucking stupid?” you cursed.

“Hey, you’re not stupid, alright?” Hobie said firmly. You shook your head.

“Yes, I am. If I was just more intelligent and organized then people wouldn’t be so upset with me,” you said as your cheeks burned. “But even then, it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’ll always just end up disappointing everyone,” you cried. Hobie frowned as he pulled you close. He muttered into your hair as he gently rubbed your arm.

“Listen here: you’re not a disappointment,” he said. You slumped your shoulders.

“Hobie, you have no idea how many things I’ve messed up this past week. The amount of people I upset. I just…fuck. What is wrong with me?” you sighed in defeat. Your boyfriend hummed and rubbed your upper arm.

“You know what I think?” he asked. You tilted your head to the side and gazed into his deep hickory eyes. "I think that all of those things you just said about yourself...are complete bullshit," Hobie stated. Your jaw went slack as your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Sorry, guess I should apologize now for bein' blunt," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. You gave a small smile before bursting into laughter. Hobie blinked as you peeled with laughter, your giggles reverberating inside the small bedroom. His shoulders were soon bouncing as he chuckled softly. You clutched your side and caught your breath after several minutes.

“Thanks, Hobes. I really need that today," you sighed and wiped your eye. “My pleasure,” he said with a wink. The two of you chuckled. “Hey... look at me,” Hobie said in a more serious tone. You slid your head up, your heart melting at his gentle expression. He sighed as he smoothed his hand over your hair.

“You’re smart, the smartest bloke I've ever known,” he said. You blushed.

“H-Hobie..." you stammered.

“It’s true. And you can always work on being more organized. Doesn’t mean you’re a bad person-just means you’ve got somethin’ to improve on,” your boyfriend shrugged. You sniffed as he placed a kiss on your forehead and cupped your face.

“And as for those stuck up pricks...they can kindly go fuck themselves,” he said with a firm nod. Your face felt red hot as you laughed. Hobie pursed his lips. “Honestly, I think you need to get the hell out of there,” your boyfriend said. You wrung your hands together as you tensed in his hold.

“It’s decent pay, though,” you sighed as your heart sank. Hobie hummed.

“But you could get paid way better for a job you actually enjoy,” he said. You frowned.

“True...but I don’t even know where to begin,” you said exasperatedly. Your boyfriend tilted his head.

“Could help you look when I’m not busy,” he replied with a shrug. Your eyes widened as your heart leapt in your chest.

“Really?” you beamed. Hobie cracked an eye open and nodded.

“‘Course-anythin’ to help my boy,” he said. You pulled him into a tight hug again, drawing a deep chuckle from your love.

“Thank you,” you said softly. Hobie nodded and squeezed you back.

“You’re incredible, (Y/N). Don’t you ever forget it,” he whispered. You smiled widely as you placed your hands over his. He beamed as you pressed your lips against the side of his palms.

“You’re intelligent,” Hobie repeated as he kissed your forehead. “Organized,” his lips lingered on the top of your nose. He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours, his lip ring brushing over your bottom lip. “And most importantly…incredible,” he murmured softly while gazing into your eyes.

Your heart melted as he rested his plush lips against yours. You sighed and wrapped a hand around his neck as his hands moved to cup your face again. The whole world stood still as your blissful kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity. Hobie’s pupils were blown when the two of you parted and caught your breaths. A small smile crept onto his face.

“How about we get some takeaway, yeah? Put on a movie and just have a lazy night in?” Hobie suggested while brushing his thumb over your cheek. You grinned before gently kissing him on the lips.

“That sounds wonderful,” you replied.

————

Thank you for reading! 💖

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @tayleighuh @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark

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[annasinterests]

going out, she's getting into something

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: here's my contribution for the season, witches! i had SO much fun writing this piece and i hope to get out more for this month! i definitely didn't think it'd be this long but i absolutely loved where it went. also ten points if you could tell when the tone shifted because i started listening to mitski LOL

the dividers are by @saradika — be sure to check them out! 🤍

word count: 10.4k

pairings: arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, halloween time!!! tried to be historically accurate but then again this is fiction y'all, readers having the time of her life honestly, pining, cursing, mentions of alcohol, perhaps some errors??, and some wholesome moments here n there :) — please tell me if i missed anything!

“I already told you girls, the answer is no.”

She didn’t look up from her washing basin as she gave a firm response, her voice tinged with fatigue from the relentless persistence on this matter.

Miss Grimshaw– the unyielding matriarch of the gang– always looking out for the best interest of the camp, even if it meant extinguishing your hopes of a joyous venture beyond its confines.

Normally, you’d accept the answer and move on. But this time, that wasn’t the case. No, you’d been going at it all this week, employing every conceivable tactic to sway her decision– most of which involved volunteering for additional chores atop your designated ones already– because today wasn’t just any other day.

It was Halloween.

And you were damned if you weren’t going out to celebrate it in all its glory.

“Ms. Grimshaw, please,” you continued to beg, “I won’t ask for a thing more!”

The ceaseless scrubbing paused, her hands moving to wipe across her skirt before pressing them against her forehead, muttering words only audible to herself. You stood before her eagerly, hands folded neatly over your apron, shoulders squared– striving to project an aura of innocence that might influence her.

She shook her head as her hands fell hard on her lap, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Go ask Dutch. If he says it's fine, then you girls can go.”

The elation you felt at her response made you want to dart away before she could have second thoughts, yet your feet remained in the same spot of the muddy grass your heels slowly sunk into. She eyed you as she stood up, your presence a mystery even though she’d already granted your request.

Even though she kept you all on a tight leash, her actions were rooted in sound judgment.

The whole reason there was any stability at camp at all was because of her, no matter how long or short you stayed in some places. She possessed an innate sense of what needed to be done, always placing the welfare of the camp, and more particularly, her girls, at the forefront, even if she had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

“Won’t you come out, too?” Maybe it was naive of you to ask, given she almost never step foot outside camp unless absolutely necessary.

Her hardened stare softened for a moment, peering behind you at camp momentarily as if she really were contemplating it. Her gaze returned to you, her eyebrows drawn together with the faintest curl on her lips.

“What happened to not asking for another thing?”

With a small smile and nod, you excused yourself and set out to find Dutch.

Much to your surprise, he wasn’t in his tent, and a lack of an answer of his whereabouts from Ms. O’Shea didn’t help. Nor did one from Javier out on the post claiming that he hadn’t seen him ride in or out today. And through your thorough search around camp, none revealed a trace of the man you eagerly sought.

On your way back to his tent for a second try, you recognized a figure donning a signature white shirt and black vest standing at the far end of camp, where the view was best of Horseshoe Overlook.

Your smile grew wider with each step to approach him, only calling his name when you were within a few feet.

“Dutch! Can I-”

While your voice caught his attention, it had also gotten the man who stood just nearby him, concealed by the trees until now. You came to an abrupt stop, flickering your widening gaze between the men, feeling hot embarrassment creep onto your cheeks.

It’d been Arthur.

He’d only looked over his shoulder to you, still facing the canyon with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. The brim of his hat rested just above his eyes as he appraised you, running his eyes up and down your figure.

“I’m sorry..” Your hands instinctively folded against your stomach, “I didn’t realize you were..”

A low chuckle rumbled from Dutch’s chest as he approached you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Nonsense, Miss. Arthur and I were just enjoying the view. Why don’t you join us?”

Your gaze shifted from Dutch’s to Arthur’s, who maintained his position with his chin tucked over his shoulder. He gave no indication as to whether or not your presence affected him, and a slight unease settled in as he was usually quick with a polite comment or sarcastic remark, but he did neither and continued to look at you.

Returning your attention to Dutch, you found him patiently waiting for your response– one hand lingering on your shoulder while the other was outstretched in an invitation to join them at the plateau.

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you walked forward, Dutch appearing to your right and Arthur to his.

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Below and in the distance, dense forests and mountain ranges stretched for miles, a white veil of mist shrouded at the peaks, and the Dakota River flowed through the canyon, its waters reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky.

What made the scene even more enchanting was the weather– the sun shining bright with barely any clouds to obstruct its rays, its warmth a delight on your skin. The air was crisp in a way that each breath rejuvenated your lungs, a cool and fresh quality trademarked by the fall season.

“What do you think, Miss?” He asked without averting his gaze.

You turned to him, stealing another glance before you, “Pretty as a picture, Dutch.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he softly echoed your sentiment. “Indeed it is.”

For a moment, your eyes fell to Arthur. Like Dutch, he made no move to look away, fully immersed and reveling in the simple pleasures of the moment. His hat still lowered over his eyes, shielding sunlight from those bright blues that could be the sweetest or most intimidating sight. His facial scruff was perfectly tailored for the season– substantial yet manageable, complementing his rugged appearance.

Even in his relaxed stance, you could see his clothing fighting to fit around his muscles, especially in the shoulders and arms. The cuffs of his sleeves clung snugly to his forearms, the contours of his strength evident in raised veins and muscular definition. His thumbs remained tucked into his belt, his large hands lazily curling over it, an embodiment of quiet strength and presence.

A flurry of thoughts swirled in your head– the loudest among them an undeniable realization of just how incredibly attractive this man was.

And how this definitely wasn’t the first time you were thinking this.

You hadn’t realized that you were looking right at him while your thoughts were running wild, and immense embarrassment hit you like a freight train when your eyesight focused on him staring right back at you.

To compound your mortification, your initial reaction was to smile– a smile that aimed to conceal the fact that you had been thoroughly checking him out. You tried to maintain some air of sweetness and innocence, but you knew he could see right through it.

It faltered when he broke contact and looked down, his hat serving as a convenient shield to hide his face entirely. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, cursing your own lack of composure. It was painfully obvious. You’d gone ahead and made a fool of yourself in front of the man.

Dutch’s voice interrupted your thoughts and commanded you to pull your attention back.

“Camp’s in mighty fine shape thanks to the help of you women here,” he remarked, finally looking at you. “Your contributions are always valued.”

You smoothed out your skirt, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Wouldn’t be as good as it is without Miss Grimshaw. That woman is the glue that keeps us together, I swear by it.”

“That she is.” He agreed, “But with all the effort you ladies put in, I ought to say that you girls deserve a little time to yourselves. Not in camp, that is.”

Your jaw slacked and eyes sparkled with excitement. Barely able to contain the thrill that coursed through your body, your hands began to gesture emphatically as you started up.

“Actually, that’s why I was looking for you!” A grin spread on his face as he took notice of your demeanor, “The girls and I have been dying to go out!”

You caught Arthur lift his head to you, but continued on.

“We would love to go out to town,” you reached out and grazed his arm as he listened, “pleeease, Dutch. Just for tonight?”

He nodded, that reassuring hand finding your shoulder again. “Of course, how could I say no to that?”

You beamed at him, buzzing with even more excitement.

“Where would you ladies like to go? Valentine? Perhaps even Strawberry?”

You bit down on your lip again in a futile attempt to suppress the wicked smile that grew on your face, sheepishly shrugging your shoulders. “Saint Denis?”

“Saint Denis?” Arthur interjected before anyone could speak, stepping in front of Dutch and briefly glancing at you, “Dutch, that’s–”

“Quite alright if that’s where they want to go,” Dutch smoothly derailed his refute, “Arthur.”

But Arthur, being the obstinate man he was, didn’t heed the cue. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head, “That's far, Dutch. Too far.”

Dutch fell silent for a moment, drawing a hand to his hip and shifting his weight to one foot. You wanted to say something to counter Arthur’s point, but you knew his standing with Dutch, so contradicting him could jeopardize your argument, especially after Dutch had already expressed his approval.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we’ll all be going to Saint Denis tonight.”

Dutch’s ability to orchestrate a plan that convinced everyone to head down to Saint Denis was a mystery to you, but the best part was that you had absolutely no responsibility in their efforts to move camp for a night.

Because the only thing you had to focus on was having fun.

After Dutch’s final say, Arthur grumbled, shook his head, and retreated back into camp. It likely didn’t improve his mood when you broke the news to the girls and you all erupted in joyful shouts and jumped around, clinging to one another out of pure delight.

Or when you all approached Lenny and Javier in front of him to ask if they’d take you to town and they agreed without putting up the slightest fight.

Or when you couldn’t resist teasing him by suggesting that he wear his best costume for the evening ahead, earning you a glare that you couldn’t help but smirk at.

You hadn’t even had the chance to get out a proper goodbye to the boys as Tilly grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off the wagon to emerge yourselves in the scene of the town, disappearing into the crowds on the paved streets and dodging the ever flowing trams.

Jack O'Lanterns adorned nearly everywhere you turned, perched atop picket fences that lined the slums to the mansion district. Hay bales, while adding to the festive atmosphere, served as a dual purpose as both sustenance for horses and a playground for children to climb upon– an amusing sight that elicited giggles from you.

Karen had led you all into the markets where several vendors hunkered down for the long night ahead, selling various treats and services from harvest foods, to jewelry, to fortune tellings. They all beckoned and invited you over with their expert sales tactics, and usually you would be able to just ignore them, but given today, you gave in to a woman at a jewelry stand.

You and the girls encircled her table and ogled at all the shiny pieces before you, your hands hovering over a splendid array of rings, earrings, and necklaces. With the utmost care, you picked up a ring to examine it further, capturing the saleswoman's attention.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” Mary-Beth leaned in to admire it with you, “I’ve never seen somethin’ quite like that before.”

She was absolutely right; it was one of the finest pieces you’d ever seen, far surpassing what you’d observed other women wear. It was a tri-colored gold ring– a dainty gold rose in the middle, flanked by a pink and green leaf to each side, all set against a band crafted with a delicate weaving pattern.

“Would you like to try it on?” The woman offered with a kind smile. “See how it fits?”

You slipped it on your ring finger with ease, gently turning your wrist to admire it from different angles. It hugged against your skin like it was meant to be.

But when you looked down at the price tag, you quickly changed your mind.

“This is a very lovely piece,” you took it off and placed it back on the table, earning a raised brow from Karen, “but it’s more than what I can offer.”

The woman simply nodded at your honesty. You were well aware that most items in these markets were overpriced, with prices inflated to maximize profit, but you felt that this one was truly worth it’s value. With a polite smile, you stepped away from the table and began to walk off with the girls, your heart feeling a little heavy but knowing it wasn’t the end of the world.

But a gentle hand on your elbow caught your attention, pulling you away from the group– the woman.

She took your hand and cupped hers over it, feeling a small object fall into it. Silently, she observed as her hand revealed what she’d given you.

The ring.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and your eyes widened, quickly covering it with your other hand.

“Ma’am, I can’t possibly– I don’t have enough–” Her hand on your arm again made you quiet.

“You could’ve easily stolen it from me, but you told the truth and walked away.” Her smile was warm as she plucked the ring from your hand and slipped it on your finger. “Not many people do that here in Saint Denis.”

You looked at her sympathetically, holding her hands in your own, “How can I repay you?”

She grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Come back if you wind up stealing from anyone else.”

You muffled your laughter with a hand over your mouth, giving her a knowing look as she playfully shooed you off with a wink.

You were certainly going to pay her another visit.

Rejoining the girls, you discreetly but excitedly displayed your new possession, allowing each of them to take a turn at holding it up to their faces for a closer look, their voices filled with admiration for its beauty.

Moving out of the markets, you came across the park of Saint Denis. A massive tent had been pitched across the field with people busy setting it up for the evening’s events, clearly designed to cater to a younger crowd. Beneath it were several rows of seats arranged in front of a stage that featured a couple of large basins evenly spaced apart– instantly recognizing it for apple-bobbing. Taking notice of the flairs of red gingham about the area, it made you smile with the detail put into celebrating the day.

The girls had been chattering excitedly about something you hadn’t been fully tuned into, but you snapped back to attention when Karen seized your hand and urged you to run.

Spinning around, Mary-Beth and Tilly were a few paces ahead to your right while Sadie came bolting closer from your left, a wicked grin spread on her face as she pointed towards the other two girls.

“Jump on that trolley!”

Without a second thought, you began weaving in and out of the crowd, your knees kicking your skirt up with each leap. Laughter escaped from you as you heard the startled cries of townsfolk being pushed aside in your hasty getaway, though you really had no idea why you were running at all.

You grabbed Tilly’s hand and hauled yourself up as Mary-Beth did with Karen, whipping around and sticking your hand out for Sadie who was too far away for your liking. Your heart was pounding as the men behind her were catching up, your smile from the adrenaline dropping and turning into panic.

Glancing back, you saw the trolley was due to turn a corner, inevitably too quick for Sadie to keep up with. Your panic escalated until you spotted a way to effectively cut off her pursuers– a tall stack of hay bales just waiting to be tipped over.

Swiftly, you sat on the rail and leaned back with the three girls holding your legs and waist, giving you the ultimate leverage.

“Sadie!” You shouted. “Cut the corner when I say!”

A thumbs up from her was good enough for you. You quickly alternated your gaze between her and the approaching corner, slowly leaning back and stretching out your arm until you couldn’t anymore, your adrenaline pulsing through your entire body now.

With one last look, you yelled your cue, and at the last moment threading your fingers through a band of twine and yanking with all your might.

Slowly, then all of once, they came tumbling down like you intended, fellow townspeople causing an even bigger commotion– or distraction, for your case. The men had no choice but to stop, tripping over the bales and crashing into other people, your plan executed perfectly except for one crucial detail– Sadie.

Frantically, you scanned the crowd, gripping the rail so hard that you were sure to put a dent in it. Shit– Had they got to her after the cut?

Before you could conjure a series of worst-case scenarios, she came sprinting from your right and jumped on to the trolley with ease, all of you ushering inside and taking a seat to catch your breaths.

“I keep tellin’ ya' to trade that skirt for pants, girl.” Sadie smacked your knee, “With quick thinkin’ like that, it’s a waste you don’t get out more.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. The thrill of doing jobs got you antsy, seeing it was something that you could seriously enjoy once in a while, but being a caretaker was what you were at heart. You liked providing stability in a different way.

“What in the hell was all that about?” Karen asked before you could while fanning herself with her hand, “You’re supposed to save the mischief for later, ya’ know.”

Sadie smirked and raised her hands defensively, “I may have miscalculated some things, but–” she dug into her pockets and revealed two handfuls of money, jewelry, and pocket watches. “I think it was worth it.”

You sighed back into your seat as Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen hovered over to get a better look, “I say we take that and go straight to a saloon.”

Sadie shot you an incredulous look, “I just worked my tail off for this, and you wanna spend it already?”

“No–” You dragged a hand over your face and huffed out a laugh, “For bets, idiot. Take more from their pockets, but the fair way.”

She contemplated for a moment. “I ain’t very good at table games.”

“I am!” Karen perked up.

You shot a sly look at Sadie, the dots connecting immediately. And just as you found your new activity for the next couple hours, the trolley slowed to a stop, and you all quickly hopped out the back and right into Doyle’s Tavern.

Hours in, Sadie was racking up more cash and treasures than all five of you could even carry.

It’d been more packed than when you first entered, the festive spirit flourishing through the establishment. On top of all the autumnal decorations already in place, skeletons dangled behind the bar and burning candles littered about to give the right impression of mischievous yet inviting. Round tables were busy with patrons, some full of drinks, others invested in rounds of poker or dominoes– like your own. And when you weren’t glued to a game, you were at the bar flirting your way for a free drink or charming men just to get close enough to discreetly pilfer valuables from their person.

Now, you sauntered over to Karen’s side after taking a brief stroll and glance at Sadie’s hand from the opposite side of the table. While you weren’t intimately familiar with poker, you knew what constituted the best possible hand, and it just so happened that your dear friend held that in her fingers without even knowing it.

You could see the men at the table underestimating her, their smug smiles stemming from her being the lone woman and their belief that they held the winning hand.

But none of them came close to a royal flush.

Nudging Karen, you whispered your observation, a smirk appearing on her face instantly. She shot Sadie a wink– the cue to let them have it– and watched the scene unfold as she splayed her cards across the table.

Their smug smiles dropped to open-mouthed astonishment and disapproving grumbles, slamming their hands down on the table and begrudgingly pushing their bets towards her. She kept her head down in a noble act, but it was really to hide the shit-eating grin on her face as the table cleared and her opponents drudged to the bar for another much needed drink after losing their fourth consecutive round.

Sadie joined you at the side as you all began to leave with the earnings. “God, why don’t we do this more often?” She mused while placing a chunk of wealth into your hands, “Better than the guys doin’ busted-up, ass-backwards jobs if ya’ ask me.”

Mary-Beth spun around and walked backwards as she received her cut, “Well we would if Miss Grimshaw wasn’t such a damn witch.”

“Mhm,” Karen agreed over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her ridin’ a broom tonight.”

Amid their hearty laughter, you quietly chuckled. You knew that despite her being a hell-bound handler, she loved you girls more than anything.

“Y’all are terrible,” you playfully chided while poking them in the back, “both of you!”

The sun had set as you entered the streets of Saint Denis again, now lit up by streetlights, candles, and Jack O’Lanterns. Your eyes twinkled at the sights, the town completely transforming for the night life. Children roamed the sidewalks in noisy groups, no doubt ready to wreak havoc and fully embody the spirit of mischief. Townsfolk flooded in front of every tavern, saloon, and vicinity that promised alcohol, money, and a good time.

But what really caught your eye was the other women– more precisely, their attire.

Left and right you spotted the most beautiful Victorian dresses you’d laid eyes upon– rich in color and carefully designed with the best materials money could buy– and as well as soft and colorful medieval gowns that fluttered and flowed in the gentle breeze. You couldn’t help but stare in awe of their beauty and how well-fitting they were for the evening.

Sadie saw your hands curl around your money as your eyes flitted around and a sly smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Ya’ know, there’s a boutique just around the corner.”

You shrugged at the idea, but she insisted. “Don’t give me none of that– Go on, go get yourself somethin’ pretty,” she bumped you with her elbow, “I know you wanna.”

You bit your lip as a smile crept on your face, glancing down at your hands and back to her while slowly backing away.

“Give me five minutes.”

It was a lie.

Five turned more into twenty with trying on several different dresses before finding the one.

Initially, you tried on the first dress you saw in the window of the shop, a gorgeous navy dress with an integrated corset between the flared skirt and puffy sleeves. However, the bustle was more than you bargained for, and you certainly didn’t fancy the look of having a shelf on your backside. The mirror in the fitting room let you know that the ‘regal’ look was something you weren’t interested in.

The second was a significant improvement from the first. It leaned toward a more gothic style, featuring a mix of black and red satin, as if the red were a robe draped over the black gown, yet both were stitched together seamlessly. Strings criss-crossed over the bust and torso, giving it a unique backward corset appearance, and the sleeves were long and chinched near the elbows. It even came with a hood adorned with black lace trim– a distinctive feature compared to most gowns you had seen. You loved how it looked and felt, but there was a persistent voice in your head that told you it looked too cultish, especially with the hood. In the end, your conscience had guided you out of the fitting room and onto the next.

Picking through the collections had consumed more time than you had anticipated, and your impatience grew as you felt your precious night slipping away.

Nothing was catching your eye and you just wanted something.

You looked out the window to all the bodies strolling through the streets– laughing, smiling, talking– while you were wasting time away finding a silly dress to wear.

The sound of the bell above the door ringing brought you back as a couple customers entered the store, a trio of young women in animated conversation about accessories and making a bee-line for the displays. But as you eyed them, your gaze shifted to just the right of them, falling on exactly what you were looking for.

There it was– a long, crimson floor-length skirt cinched at the seam under the bust, paired with a striking black blouse. But this wasn’t just any black blouse. No, it had balloon sleeves with exaggerated cuffs adorned with buttons that matched the body, and a stunning combination of lace and mesh on the collar that extended gracefully from shoulder to shoulder.

Not wasting another second, you swiped it and practically flew in and out of the changing room, taking a look in the mirror afterwards and absolutely falling in love with how it looked on you. It was comfortable and conventional with a dash of sexy– a match made in heaven! You slid a wad of cash across the counter to the gentleman in exchange for a paper bag for your other clothes and were quickly out the door.

Clutching the bag, you navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and main roads of Saint Denis in search of your girls, thinking just when you found them, it was just another bunch that looked similar from afar. Head on a swivel, you did your best to avoid getting distracted by the lively celebrations around you, despite your strong desire to join in.

So set on your mission, you didn’t even think to look both ways before nearly stepping in front of an oncoming trolley– being saved by a large hards on your arm and waist.

“Oh!–” You palm flew over your chest as you gasped, “I– Thank you! I didn’t even see where I was going!”

“Quite some timing there,” the figure chuckled, “we just got here.”

We?

Looking up, you were met with Charles looking down at you with a kind smile, putting you at ease. In the not-so-far distance, you saw Dutch, Jack, and Kieran hitching their horses and making their way over to you.

“I see you girls have been busy!” Dutch declared as he grandly gestured to your new clothes. “Having fun I hope?”

You nodded politely. Fun and causing trouble, but who were you to spill about that?

A satisfied grin crossed his face, “We’re off to meet the others at Mayor Lemieux. Care to join us, Miss?”

Reuniting with the rest of the gang? Say less.

Before you could answer, you remembered the bag in your hand and looked down at it, your thoughts not lost on the men around you. Not that your old clothes were worth much in a town like Saint Denis, but they were still yours.

“You three go on, we’ll meet you there.” Charles insisted to Dutch, then turned to you as they walked away. “You can leave your stuff with me, it’ll be safe.”

You smiled as he just knew what to do, the protective side of the men you always appreciated. A short walk over to the stables, where he insisted on keeping his horse rather than in the open, and stowing your things later, you were back on track to the mansion district– after some jokes about all the wealth you’d been carrying, of course, and keeping a couple pieces on you for when you saw your market friend.

You marveled at the increasing crowd in the town– kids’ laughter echoed through the streets that mingled with the roars and singing reverberating from every saloon, and occasionally, there were startled shrieks of terror caused by juveniles of the night. You made comments about the atmosphere and were very careful to stay out of the way of the ongoing trolleys, a small inside joke brewing between you both.

In Charles, you felt a strong sense of safety and trust. He was one of the few men you believed to be genuinely good, his only flaw being part of a criminal gang, but even that could be justified with loyalty. He was kind and respectful, not just towards women, but towards everyone. He was someone to have on your side, always.

“So, is everyone really out here?” You inquired, “I didn’t think that Dutch could really rally everyone up to come into town.”

“For the most part,” Charles shrugged, “a couple of them wanted to stay and watch camp. Said they weren’t too big on celebrating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who decided to hang back?”

Charles chuckled and glanced at you, teasing, “What’s got you so curious? Expecting somebody?"

Your cheeks burned at his question. You hadn’t been thinking of him until this very moment.

“Maybe I was praying for a miracle that Micah didn’t come.”

He laughed louder this time, “Well, it was answered.”

You cracked a smile at your banter, but now your mind was totally elsewhere and remained that way well into the district, the buzzing of your thoughts stopping at the front entrance of Mayor Lemieux’s estate.

Before you was a huge mansion, white with pillars supporting the sprawling balcony that extended to each side of the house and a wide staircase that led up to an opulent wrap-around porch. From the outside alone, you could tell that every inch of this property was occupied between the amount of people and staff.

Charles led the way into the estate, making sure you didn’t lose him along the way as you looked about. You thought the exterior was grand enough already, but the interior proved to be much more. The flooring in each room varied, from carpet, to tile, to wood– all extravagant. As soon as you stepped inside, a staircase greeted you and split off into two more on each side for the second level, all lined with a rich red and gold carpet. The walls were lined with exquisite light fixtures and portraits of people you couldn’t even begin to name, and an enormous chandelier hung over the center of the entrance, adding to the luxurious ambiance.

Making your way to the back, you grabbed a drink and some hors d’oeuvres off a tray from a nearby server, nursing the drink and nibbling on the food a little bit at a time. As if you thought the place couldn’t be anymore rich, the gazebo and water fountain in the backyard told you otherwise. It was also now that you noticed that the estate had been on the water which reinforced its extravagance. Every single detail had been thought out to make this place the go-to spot for the people of Saint Denis between the assortment of food and beverages, games, decorations– everything.

Your favorite part, though? Finding your people again.

The girls cheered as you locked eyes at the same time, flocking to you and immediately forcing you to spin to show off your attire for the evening. Charles rejoined Dutch, Jack, and Kieran again as they watched you five with amused expressions.

“Next time, we’re comin’ with,” Sadie raised her glass to yours, “five minutes my ass.”

You sheepishly smiled at her and clinked your glass against hers while looking around, “Where’s everyone else? Charles said-”

“There she is!”

Your voice froze as you heard the familiar sound of a particular woman, turning around to meet them.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

Your face dropped.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

She took complete pleasure in your utter surprise, sporting a smirk as she sipped from a glass of dark liquid. You approached her, gesturing to say something, but words eluded you, earning a chuckle from her. She savored her drink and waited patiently, her smug expression unyielding until you finally found your voice.

“I didn’t think you wanted to-”

“Celebrate the Day of the Dead? I don’t.” You raised your eyebrows at her bluntness. She took a few steps towards you, “But it beats bein’ in that camp for once. And free drinks ain’t so bad either”

There’s the Susan Grimshaw you knew.

You were quiet as she surveyed your attire, ruffling your sleeve from awkward creases and smoothing it afterwards. Her gaze drew up to your face, looking everywhere but your eyes, making sure all your hairs were in place and that you didn’t just walk straight out of a barn. She placed her fingers under your chin and tilted up to her.

“Don’t be dumb. Don’t be stupid. And don’t go diggin’ up graves. Ya’ hear me?”

You smirked. “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes as her hand dropped, smacking you on the shoulder. “Lord, y’all are the reason I have all these grays.”

She winked at you as she moved on from your conversation, and when you turned back to your friends, they had vanished.

Again.

You let out a suppressed laugh at the circumstances. Of course– if you weren’t glued to their hip, you were bound to lose them. And with as many people there were, finding them again wouldn’t be easy. So, you chose not to.

Swiping another drink from a passing server, you wandered about the property and drank while you observed the various scenes that played out. Suited men overindulging in beers and politics, staff lingering in the corner and gossiping in hushed tones, and young women trying to appear more desirable by loosening buttons or letting a sleeve slip off their shoulders.

The further into the night, the more increasingly bold and uninhibited people became, embracing the wicked and mischievous aspects of the holiday. You noticed it more as you went about the district, slipping in and out without attracting much attention– a level of anonymity you found strangely enjoyable.

The only interruptions were the occasional sightings of familiar faces when you were least expecting them– like Lenny and Kieran on the corner of a saloon, or Karen and Sean talking it up on the staircase of another mansion. Despite their lack of acknowledgement, you still grinned towards them and continued your exploration.

As you came across one of the last estates, you’d barely stepped foot on the property before hearing your name shouted out, causing you to jump.

“Over here, Miss!”

Realizing it to be Dutch beckoning you over, you relaxed and crossed the yard to join at his side, accompanied by a few unfamiliar men. You graciously made their acquaintance and accepted a drink offered by Dutch.

“Gentlemen, this here is one of Van Der Linde’s finest.” He bowed to you, eliciting a shy chuckle out of you, “Truly, she’s one of a kind.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” the man to your left winked in your direction. He extended his hand to you, “It’s a shame we haven’t met earlier.”

He was conventionally attractive; kept hair, clean shaven, chiseled features, well dressed. His accent you couldn’t particularly place but found it interesting nonetheless– carrying a definitive air of sophistication.

Taking his hand, he brought it up to his face and kissed the top of it– an act that normally would be acceptable, but you got an icky feeling from him. You bowed your head only to be polite, finding words unnecessary.

“What do you say, dear, let me take you for a drink and have the privilege of getting to know all about Van Der Linde’s finest?”

The bold request had you raising your eyebrows and an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You flushed with embarrassment, was this really happening right now, especially in front of Dutch? It felt so wrong. You didn’t realize how long you’d been silent until another voice interjected.

“She ain’t interested.”

Your eyes widened and back straightened at the deep drawl.

Arthur.

His imposing presence settled beside you, taking the opportunity to steal a glance at him while he was focused on the gentleman before you. It turned into a double-take once you realized what he was wearing.

His hands held his trusty gun belt over a pair of dark pants– jeans, maybe, but it was hard to discern in the dim light. He swapped his typical suspenders for a ragged dark brown leather belt, a unique change yet fitting one. And his shirt– God, his shirt– a white and red gingham button-up that he filled out perfectly with cuffed sleeves. Now that was different, and probably not his preferred style deep down, but you loved it. Even his hat was different, trading his father’s for a much fancier one with a wide front dip and roll, as well as the band featuring brass rifle bullets.

You couldn’t help but gawk. He looked so damn good, and also the only one out of the gang that actually dressed up for the occasion.

“Last I checked, I was speaking to the lady.” The gentleman puffed his chest a bit, elegantly gesturing to you.

Arthur chuckled lowly, his demeanor remaining cool, “Yeah, well, last I checked the lady wasn’t talkin’ back.”

The gentleman, clearly insulted, narrowed his eyes on Arthur as his fingers pinched the stem of his wine glass– the difference between their behaviors clear as day. During their small exchange, you kept your eyes on your hands that held a drink, though you weren’t interested in it much at the moment.

“It’s clear you’ve made her uncomfortable with your poor manners,” the irony of his words made the faintest smile curl on your lips.

Arthur laughed louder, turning to you and draping a hand behind your back while the other settled on his belt still, “Miss, have I made you uncomfortable with my poor manners?”

You met his gaze with a knowing look, biting your lip to fend off the smile that was deepening at him fucking with the man. You knew the answer, and so did Arthur, and you got a kick out of his way of making him look like a fool.

“What poor manners?” You raised your drink to your lips to further conceal your amusement while maintaining eye contact with Arthur, a smirk appearing on his face.

“See? She just ain’t wanna talk to you.” Arthur’s hand pressed against your back, directing you to move, while he tipped his head and gestured a farewell, “Now, you gentlemen have a fine night.”

As you walked further away you could hear bits and pieces of Dutch attempting to soothe the situation, which, to you, sounded like a lot of ass-kissing to salvage whatever relations he had built with those men before suffering a blow from Arthur.

Speaking of him– your skin was warm where his hand touched and guided you, steady as he maneuvered you both through the crowds. It was reminiscent of the feeling you’d had with Charles earlier, but with Arthur, it was different– more intense. Even from behind, you could sense his frame towering over you, feeling a warmth in your cheeks just at the thought of his broadness alone. He mumbled a series of ‘excuse us’ and ‘watch out’ as you moved along into the backyard, the scene nearly the same compared to Mayor Lemieux’s, of course the obvious difference was the actual yard itself.

It was only when you were nearly at the back that his hand dropped from you as he rested against a pillar, his eyes carefully scanning through the sea of people before returning to you.

“M’sorry about that,” his sincerity was evident. “Dutch’s been with ‘em all night, and I ain’t got a very good feeling about it.”

You appreciated his apology though it wasn’t really necessary. His intent was clear, and you admired him for it.

“Well, I’d say you’re my knight in shining armor, but it’s looking more like..” Your eyes danced around his attire again with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he shook his head and put his bottle to his lips, giving you a fine sight to see. “S’your fault I’m wearin this get-up, by the way.”

He pointed at you while leaning back, shifting his weight to one foot with the other crossed in front of it. His arms crossed against his chest in a way made his arms look ridiculously big, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this man didn’t have women lining up for him around the block.

“Oh, you say it like it’s a bad thing,” you retorted, taking a sip from your glass before gesturing to yourself. “And you’re not the only one, see?”

With a graceful twirl, you spun around, allowing your skirt to flare for a flashy effect. Arthur couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

“Are you supposed to be somethin’, or?” There was a genuine curiosity in his tone that had you raising your brows, which caused him to stutter. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong! It looks, you look–”

A laugh from you calmed his nerves, “I’m not, I just wanted to be festive, is all.”

He nodded and shifted his weight to the other foot, casting his gaze towards the crowd again. An awkward silence filled the space for a moment.

“What about you? What’s your get-up?” You grinned as he rolled his eyes at his word choice for costume. “And don’t say a cowboy.”

He fell quiet.

“An outlaw?”

Your laughter mingled in the air with Arthur’s, seeing a dash of red spread across his cheeks. It was exactly the kind of answer you had expected.

As it died down, his attention returned to the yard, and you couldn’t help but look at him. With his rugged looks, quick wit, and heart of gold, it was hard not to feel something for him. And for how much you were having a good time in the short duration you were with him, you couldn’t believe he ever protested coming out here.

Your heart fluttered for him. He could’ve been anywhere else right now, either at camp or drinking and getting into trouble, but yet he stayed with you, and it didn’t look like he was leaving your side anytime soon.

“Arthur–”

“We gotta move–”

The sudden urgency in his voice caught you off-guard. He stood from the pillar and a protective hand was on your back again, preparing to lead you away once more. Both of your gazes were fixed on several unfriendly-looking staff members who were combing through people with lanterns– grabbing them by the shoulder, holding the light to their face, then carelessly throwing them aside when they weren’t the face they were looking for.

Just your luck.

Quickly, Arthur guided you down the steps and to the right to what you assumed was a storage house. You kept an eye out while he found a way in, though your panic rose as they kept sweeping the yard and moving closer.

“Arthur, any day now would be gr–”

He pulled your arm into darkness and swung the door shut, immediately blocking it with an object that was too dark for you to see. The space was much smaller than you imagined and quite stuffy, the music and conversation muffled to your ears now.

Your heart hammered in your chest, surely this wasn’t because of a bruise to the ego? But then again, these rich folk seemed sensitive. You joined Arthur at the small window, just peeking around the curtain to watch the unwelcomed company grow closer, “Some staff this place has.”

“This place belongs to Angelo Bronté. And that ain’t staff.”

You scoffed, “Who?”

“Somebody we ain't need to piss off.”

You faced him, “And let me guess, you pissed him off somehow?”

As he turned to you, you became acutely aware of the lack of distance between you both. Just the slight inch forward and–

No– now was not the time to lust over him, even if your body was giving you all the telltale signs, especially the fire that burned in your core. But it didn’t help when he smirked at you for an answer, the dim illumination of half his face making him look criminally more attractive. You groaned at the overall situation– grappling with your desires and figuring how it wouldn’t be a true Van Der Linde outing if someone didn’t cause trouble.

Your fingers curled around the curtain as you watched them gather near where you’d been standing no more than ten minutes ago. Glancing back, you noticed another window that would lead just over the wall– your escape.

“Hey, there’s a–”

“Where'd you get that?”

You knitted your brows in confusion at him, letting a beat pass before seeing where his eyes had been glued to– your hand on the curtain.

The ring.

The dim light from outside still made it twinkle in the darkness of the room, catching his attention. You glanced at it before redirecting your gaze to the henchmen that had now come down the stairs and searched the opposite side of the patio behind some barrels. It was only a matter of time before they came looking where you were.

“Someone gave it to me, but listen–”

“Who gave it to you? His voice was insistent as he stared at you intently.

You stared back dumbfounded. Between wanting to have him right in this storage house and your pursuers less than twenty yards away, you couldn’t comprehend he was pestering you about this right now.

Letting out a huff, you blindly reached around for anything to give you a boost, finding your footing and hoisting upwards to reach the higher window. With one arm supporting yourself, the other made work with the pane, pushing it up little by little. It proved to be more difficult than you expected from its old age and scarce use. Your heart raced when you heard the twisting of the door knob and voices from the outside congregating around it.

Shit.

With a final push, you opened it all the way, whispering urgently, “C’mon!”

Arthur followed swiftly after you, his plunge to the ground a bit more graceful than yours, but certain he wasn’t looking anyway. Just as hit feet hit the ground, you heard the door bust open from inside, followed by several heavy footsteps and angry voices.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the right to run down the street, bumping into townsfolk along the way and hearing their unpleasant words go in one ear and out the other. But they weren’t the only ones disgruntled– so were more henchmen that were right after you. How many people did this guy have?

Your muttered profanity let Arthur know that trouble was on your tail, tightening his grip on your hand and looking for any way out.

An intersection was coming up as you ran further into Saint Denis, which meant more people, more places to hide, and more–

“Trolley!”

You pointed at it as it was approaching too quickly for your liking, hoping Arthur would see and redirect your route. But instead, he tugged for you to run faster.

“We’re not gonna–”

“Just trust me!”

Your eyes darted from the street ahead to the trolley, panic at an all time high as you were essentially running to your certain death.

You squinted as the bright lights blinded you, your legs pumping as fast as they could, and your shriek swallowed by the horn of the machine– you accepted your fate as an oversized bug smeared across its windshield.

You felt your body jerked to the side and slam against concrete. You were disoriented, your senses in chaos. This was it. The afterlife already– dark, cold, and full of..

Ragged breathing?

“Goddamn...” Arthur’s voice reached your ears.

You shot your eyes open at Arthur’s rasp, your heart painfully thumping in your chest and lungs aching with every breath. You heaved and peered around the corner to see Bronté’s men grouped in the street looking for a sign of either of you, but their efforts yielded nothing. WIth an angered look of defeat, they turned back towards the estate, and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

When you turned back, Arthur stood close to you, his gaze drawn to the men then falling to you after.

“You,” you poked at his chest, “are absolutely insane. Never make me do that again!”

“Remember,” his hand reached up for yours, “I’m an outlaw, not a liar.”

You shared a soft laugh, captivated by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the soothing timbre of his voice. Your gaze shifted down to your conjoined hands, appreciating the gentle way he held yours despite his larger and rougher ones. His skin was warm against yours, and although you expected fireworks, it was more like a softness, surrendering to its familiarity despite never having experienced it before.

Lightly, his thumb grazed your palm and stopped at the band around your finger, gently turning your hand over so that the design was visible. He examined it closely, tracing the delicate details with his thumb.

“A woman in the market here gave it to me... Told her I couldn’t afford it, but she wanted me to keep it– insisted on it.”

He continued to look at it, taking in all the tiny details as best as he could in the dark alley. A faint smile appeared on his lips as his thumb ran over it, “Sounds like it was meant to be.”

His choice of words resonated with you, reaffirming the same feeling you’d had when you first tried it on.

A chuckle and grin from you caused him to tilt his head with a playful expression, slightly leaning closer to you, “What?”

You glanced at the ring and back to him, briefly holding your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. Your gaze flickered from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up again.

“You believe in fate, Arthur Morgan?”

His smile faded and eyes slightly widened, but your soft gaze remained steady on him. Your hands left his and traveled to his shoulders, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles. His breathing quickened, especially after the sudden touch. He stared deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that would tell him it was all in his head, but it wasn’t. You knew what you were asking.

He lowered his head for a moment, his expression softening under your touch and drawing closer to you. When he met your eyes again, a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face as his hands found themselves under your elbows.

Being involved with someone like him came with hardships for both sides– a lifestyle that one had to keep and the other suffered because of it. It wasn’t fair, eternally caught in moral dilemmas and forever denied the chance to settle down. There wasn’t the luxury to cherry-pick from life’s offerings, to have it all. This was his life, and he carried the weight of it heavily.

“I don’t believe in a lot of things,”

But you didn’t care. You had embraced a life similar to his, akin to that of the Van Der Linde gang. If you hadn’t, would you all have winded up together anyway?

You understood the unconventional life you all led, far from the standard, civilized existence that others pursued. But it worked for you, and you had each other to rely on, and that’s what truly mattered. You saw beyond the surface, beyond the cold outlaw label that clung to him, a man with flaws and virtues. Maybe he lost his temper too quickly at times or wielded a sharp tongue, but beneath it all, there was love, kindness, and a sense of honor that ran deep within him.

The world may have painted him as the Devil incarnate, but you knew him differently. He was a good man, capable of both selfless kindness and quiet introspection. In your heart, you held this belief, and nothing could change that.

Life had conspired to bring you together. And in that union, there was fate.

“But I have my exceptions.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours, his arms snaking behind and around as yours curled over his shoulders.

It was slow and sweet just like how you imagined he would be– taking his time to know your body and touch. His hands spread along your back and held you protectively, your bodies melting into one another. The breaks between were short, too focused on the fact this was happening to pay attention to anything else but each other. Your hand moved to his cheek and ran your thumb along his beard, earning a hum of pleasure from the small act and had you smiling against his lips.

When you finally broke, you rested foreheads together, pushing up his hat slightly in the process. Even in a dark alley, you could still make out his bright blue eyes and a deep shade of red gracing his skin. You couldn’t even begin to conceal your toothy grin, nor could he.

“I have my exceptions, too.”

His hand reached up and curled around yours, “Hope I’m the only one, then.”

You pecked his lips before stepping back and lacing your fingers with his, gently tugging to walk, “I’ll think about it.”

He rolled his eyes at your wink but still grinned, happily following you around wherever you dragged him to. Slipping between alleys, you merged yourselves with the lively nightlife again– the same sights you saw during the day looked even better now.

As you strolled through the town hand-in-hand, a sense of domesticity settled upon you. Tonight, you weren’t part of a highly wanted gang, you were just another pair in the streets of Saint Denis– clinging to his arm, catching snippets of entertainment through saloon doors, and getting the other’s attention when something of interest was spotted.

One of the things you enjoyed most was Arthur’s reactions to when kids jumped out to scare you both, a prank played on anyone who dared to walk the particular stretch of the street. The younger the prankster, the more dramatic Arthur’s responses became. He would place a hand over his heart and tightly cling to you with feigned disbelief, saying things like “Haven’t been scared like that in years!” or, “Never even saw ‘em comin!” before saying some words of encouragement that fueled the next scare.

Teenage boys who attempted the same stunt received a more wary reception from Arthur, recognizing their motives often stemmed from a desire to appear cool in front of friends or impress girls, and that their pranks were much more juvenile. In most cases, his glare and sheer size alone were enough to send them fleeing, but those who dared to persist were subjected to his quick tongue and left them retreating like chastened dogs with their tails between their legs. Your laughter always followed the encounter, adding to the lingering sting of Arthur’s verbal reprimand.

Eventually, your route had led you near the markets again, and you eagerly pulled Arthur along to find your favorite stand. He chuckled and followed your lead as you navigated through the crowd, your excitement palpable.

“Oh please tell me you stole him!” Came a familiar voice around the corner.

You smiled at the sight of her and approached, seeing that her table had been decently cleared, a sign of a good night for profits.

Arthur politely tipped his head towards her with a shy smile, “Afraid it’s the other way around, ma’am.”

You felt a warmth on your cheeks at his answer and gently squeezed his hand before letting it go to dig out your promises tucked expertly within your clothing. “But I do come bearing gifts!”

Her playful frown turned up into genuine surprise at your reveal of assorted jewelry and trinkets– indeed impressed with your take as it was more than she anticipated. Carefully, she examined each one before placing them with her own wares for sale, whispering a praise about the item while doing so. As she spoke, her eyes flitted about her table, her gestures revealing a hint of embarrassment.

“I apologize that I don’t have more to offer, dear,” her eyebrows furrowed apologetically, “but please, do take whatever you like.”

You glanced over the table, hesitating as you hovered a hand over an item before retracting it, shaking your head slowly. The woman and Arthur exchanged puzzled glances, the woman’s expression now tinged with concern.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight, I’ll be here–”

“It’s quite alright,” you replied sweetly, though the confusion was still apparent in her expression. “I just wanted to repay you.”

She layered her hands over her chest in gratitude, and you felt the act of pure kindness from one human to another to be worth more than any dollar bill or piece of gold.

You also knew that besides the girls, each member that was out had surely pickpocketed or gambled their way into getting a cut for themselves and camp.

Her eyes peered over to Arthur for a moment, his posture straightening when she pointed a motherly finger at him. “Don’t let this one go, you hear?”

You giggled at her demand, and another wave of red kissing his cheeks only added to your amusement as he tipped his head at her once again.

Slowly, you exchanged goodbyes as Arthur placed a hand on your lower back and subtly scooched you along– only for it to be an excuse to slip a wad of cash towards the woman without you noticing. Her hands were quick to replace the cash in his hands for something small and delicate into his, darting her eyes between your turned figure and him before shooting a wink. Without looking, Arthur knew exactly what she gave him, and placed it right in his pocket before giving you his full attention as you continued through the strip.

A warm smile graced your lips as Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist and he planted a gentle kiss on your head, feeling a tiny swarm of butterflies in your chest. His attention made you feel important with the way he had to touch you, like he needed everyone to see you on his arm, proud to have you by his side.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t suppress the heaviness of your eyelids. You tried to hide your yawns that wouldn’t stop coming after the initial one, but Arthur noticed after the second one. After exploring nearly all the sights of Saint Denis, with the exception of the mansion district, of which you had wisely avoided for the rest of the evening, he convinced you to rest at a hotel for the night. You protested at first, but another yawn and knowing look from him persuaded you to give in.

He’d slipped the clerk a little more than the average room cost, wanting you to have the best possible after such a physically taxing day. The clerk, more than willing to oblige, had graciously handed over the keys.

While the lofty bed and opulent room details were certainly appealing, you immediately took to the private balcony that gave the perfect view over the town, allowing you to continue enjoying the night from the comfort of your room. Your skirt fluttered in the breeze, mirroring the movement of the curtains as you leaned against the iron railing. A soft, ambient glow illuminated your figure, creating a picturesque scene that Arthur couldn’t help but admire– a sight he would undoubtedly sketch later.

He joined at your side, his presence reassuring as he brushed against your shoulder. You continued to gaze down at the bustling town below, the sounds of murmured conversation and laughter from the open buildings– mostly taverns and saloons– filling the night air. You rested your head against Arthur’s shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

“I know I acted like I didn’t wanna come out here tonight,” he mentioned as he looked down at you, meeting your gaze that reaffirmed his statement that pulled a smile from him. “But I’m glad I did.”

Adjusting to face him properly, he snaked his arm around you as he did the same, drawing you closer to him with a soft, affectionate look. You brushed noses as you settled in his space, your lips mere centimeters from his.

“I’m glad you did too.”

Your lips locked in a passionate embrace, and the cheers and woos from below had reached your ears, causing both of you to break into smiles at the unexpected audience. But he paid no heed to the commotion as he pulled you in for more, his hands finding your face to deepen your connection.

In a brief moment of separation, you took the opportunity to give him a suggestive smirk and nod to the room that told him everything he needed to know– quickly peppering kisses along your jaw and neck before swiftly sweeping you off your feet and right into bed.

If tonight proved one thing, it was that you needed to get out of camp more often.

Especially with Arthur.

[serickswrites]

Hey :)

No rush🖤 just wanted to know if you're going to continue the Monster series? ; the one where the team thinks whumpee betrayed them but they disn't and it was whumper

Again no rush,sry if i'm disturbing you with this💓

Love your writing💛💗💛

Anon! I am definitely going to be continuing this series (sorry it took so long to answer this). It's written and plotted for a total of 6 parts including the first part. Please enjoy part 2!

Part 1

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, burns, branding, physical violence, unconsciousness, beating

Everything was pain when Smallest Teammate came to. They were chained to a wall in a darkened basement and their body hurt. The team had been thorough in their beating and Smallest Teammate was paying the price. At least Whumper wasn't there when they woke up.

There had to be a way they could escape. Had to be a way they could get out. They had to get out and warn the team. Convince Team Leader that Whumper was the liar and traitor and that Smallest Teammate had been innocent. They had to or else Whumper would hurt the rest of the team.

The basement door banged open and Smallest Teammate flinched. So much for finding a way out before Whumper came in. "Well, well, well," Whumper said excitedly as they walked down the steps, "it looks like your luck has finally run out, little mouse, and I've caught you."

"The team will figure you out!" Smallest Teammate knew that Whumper would hurt them, torture them, most likely kill them, but maybe that would buy the team enough to realize who Whumper truly was.

Whumper rolled their eyes. "I highly doubt that, little mouse. They love me. It's you they think are the problem. It's you who should be afraid. I'm going to enjoy taking my time with you, little mouse."

Smallest Teammate opened their mouth to reply, but Whumper kicked out at them. Whumper's foot connected with their ribs and Smallest Teammate found themself gasping for air. Whumper kicked them again. And again. And again. Smallest Teammate's already bruised and battered body was in worse shape than before. Every kick hurt a thousand times worse than they had when the team had beaten them. Every punch. Every vicious blow was made a thousand times worse by Whumper's anger and desire to hurt Smallest Teammate.

Finally, Whumper stopped. Smallest Teammate could barely keep their eyes open. They fought to stay conscious. They had to stay conscious or Whumper would grow bored and potentially hurt the team. Smallest Teammate moaned with pain as Whumper lifted them beneath their armpits and carried them to a table in the corner of the room. Smallest Teammate couldn't fight back as they were chained down.

They were barely tracking Whumper's movements. Barely tracking anything. Whumper's face suddenly loomed over them. "This is going to be so much fun. You're mine. All mine, Smallest Teammate. And I intend to milk you for every last drop of pain I can. So don't think I'm going to be killing you any time soon. I'm going to enjoy myself long before I kill you. And everyone will know that you were mine once you're gone."

"I...I...I--" Smallest Teammate tried to get the words out, but their head was fuzzy and dark. They opened their mouth to try again when Whumper pressed something to their forearm. Smallest Teammate howled with pain as their flesh seared around the brand Whumper had pressed to them.

"It's my name, you know. Everyone will know that you are mine. And that I had you first." Whumper smirked as they ground the brand down further into Smallest Teammate's arm.

Smallest Teammate wailed with pain. They screamed and tried to move, but couldn't because of the restraints. They cried and begged Whumper to stop, but Whumper did not relent. It was only after Whumper had pressed the brand a third time to their body that Smallest Teammate let the darkness that had been waiting claim them.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@acer-whumpstuff @eight-littlenightmares @daffodilsinspring

[regretsofaghost]

Day 11- My love for you is true, I swear it is, it just will kill you in the end

AO3 link to chapter 11- here Tumblr link to chapter 10- here Tumblr link to chapter 12- here

Word count- 500 words

Edwin paused; his hands hovered over the piano keys as he thought carefully of his next lines.

It was not going anywhere, his brain fuzzy and unfocused, thoughts staying for just long enough that he thought he had an idea, only for them to leave by the time he has his pen to the paper.

With all the parts of me that went unburnt

Allow this heart to restart, unhurt

There was no reason the spell should have worked. He had no remains, all of him had been dragged to Hell that cold night. He believed it would yes, he hoped and prayed, but that should not have been enough. His intent perhaps? Magic was both definite and flowing, exact yet imprecise.

His songs did not need to make sense, did not need to rhyme, did not need a consistent rhythm. It was baffling.

All he knew was that it had worked, that the melody he had thought of in the moment was enough, but he could not remember it. Edwin could not remember the moment he sang out the words, could not remember how he had ended up on the floor in front of Crystal, kneeling beside Charles as the other let tears run down his cheeks in relief.

Edwin could remember the wetness of his own.

Edwin could remember staring at the Night Nurse as she gave him a thorough dressing down.

Edwin could remember Charles staring at him with wide brown eyes, as if Edwin had all the answers to Charles’ questions.

It was both infuriating and the sweetest thing, that Charles put so much faith in him.

Edwin felt the potion in his pocket, as he shifted on the piano bench.

Creative influence?

Edwin had always found it so much easier to let things simply bubble out of him, when he was under the influence of the potion.

Perhaps that is simply what happened, that he allowed himself to simply be without worrying over others’ thoughts.

He tried not to, had not, before Crystal had joined the agency.

Now though, he had more eyes on him, more attention, attention that was not as simple as Charles’, attention that he had to earn and was not simply given, attention that could turn sour at any moment, should he not pay it its dues.

Edwin remembered Simon’s eyes, as he looked up at him in Hell, as he looked down at Edwin as he killed him, unintentionally.

Nervous, with Simon’s attention so thoroughly on him. Righteous, with Simon’s attention solely on him.

Edwin brought the potion to his lips before he could think more about Simon, think about him trapped in Hell, another person he failed.

It was pleasant, the burn that turned to warmth, the taste of plants, the way it settled him just enough that he did not want to dwell anymore.

Edwin rested his hands on the piano keys, wetting his lips before playing a simple tune.

But you should know

That I died slow…

[thedragonchilde]

Ship meme spam, sexy edition

1. What was their first kiss like?

Lots of pent-up passion here, folks; rough and needy and maybe a little bloody

2. Where were they the first time having sex?

To be determined, though it takes a little bit to even get to this point. (Who has fewer neighbors?)

3. Who's louder?

OH MY GOD BOTH OF THEM

4. Who wakes up first?

Domon is up with the sun

5. Favorite form of foreplay?

Flirty sparring

6. Who performs/receives oral more often?

...that’s a good question. It probably evens out down the line, but at first Domon probably gets blown more often

7. What kink they most often use?

Sensation play casts a pretty wide net

8. Who more often tries new things?

Chibodee’s more often the one with the ideas (though sometimes these things just happen)

9. If they had to include a third person who would it be?

Yeah okay, you think they'd slow down enough for a third?

10. Favorite toy?

You know, the nice thing about dating a trans guy, if you’re in the mood to get dicked down, you can pick the dick

11. How careful are they about using protection?

I'd say a hysterectomy is pretty thorough protection for some things, and monogamy covers the rest

12. General feelings on sex in the relationship

Very intense and a little spiritual actually (‘communicating with your fists’ extends to other physicality, not to mention the Shuffle Alliance empathy)

13. Sexuality?

Chibodee’s bi as fuck. Domon is uhhh new to this, give him time

14. Position Preferences?

Definitely not a static thing, tbh, though I guess face to face makes things more intense

15. Kinks?

Aside from the aforementioned? Edging and overstimulation are pretty up there, and it's pretty common for them to not even get fully undressed

16. Dirty little secrets?

Maybe how they handled long-distance, ahem

17. Best time ever?

Maybe the time they first discovered overstimulation (and, uh, in related news, that on good days Chibodee is capable of multiple orgasms)

18. Worst time ever?

You ever get a concussion from sex?

19. One thing they’ve never told?

Chibodee has never given anyone a straight answer about any previous experience and probably never will

20. Most exotic place they’ve done it at?

I'm sure there's better/worse, but what I can tell you is that Chibodee's dressing room has absolutely seen a few quickies

21. Number of sexual partners?

That entirely depends on how far Domon got with Rain. And as aforementioned, nobody knows whether Chibodee is a slut or a virgin or what, and he's not telling.

22. What they do after sex?

Honestly, that’s a workout, they’re fuckin starving

23. Stamina?

You’d better believe it (something something twelve rounds joke)

24. What gets them in the mood?

You know, it doesn't take much

25. What is their mood-killer?

Oh my god do you know how hard it is to get uninterrupted alone time sometimes, seriously, some days it's like people/calls/the universe time things exactly to derail the mood

26. Most sensitive spot?

Ass and spine for Domon, jaw and hips for Chibodee, and honestly lips are a very good bet for both of them. (For a different kind of sensitive, so to speak, go for hands.)

27. One thing your partner should never do?

Okay look, being competitive is one thing, but cross the line into humiliation and there will be issues

28. Threesome or an orgy?

Say what now? Look, I don't know what you've heard about Chibodee's relationship with the gals, but that is a great big not-on-your-life

29. How adventurous are they?

Define adventurous? ;)

30. If there was a safe-word, what would it be?

‘Matte’ (‘wait’, used as surrender in many martial arts) or ‘time out’; when words fail, they tap out

31. Going down or standing up?

Oh, they’ll go any which way, probably in the same session

32. Old-school or into experiments?

Experimenting sounds more hands-on

33. Masturbate or seek for a helping hand?

Why would it have to be one or the other

34. One night stands; yay or nay?

That’s a weird question to ask about an established relationship

35. Foreplay or straight to business?

Depends on whether it’s a ‘test of endurance’ type of day ;) Although I can tell you that they waste absolutely no time after a boxing match - no sex for a fucking week before a match, honestly, what the hell kind of rule

36. One thing they’re dying to try?

Domon has, ah, given a fair amount of thought to doing it outside

37. In the morning or when night falls?

Hey, you never know when the mood will strike!

38. Roleplay? If so, what exactly?

You know, I don't think that's Domon's style. No way would he be able to stay in character

39. Props they’d like to use?

Domon’s headband?

[scarfacemarston]

saw your post saying that you want ideas for Fenris, so here's my 5 cents;

You know the romance ending for Fenris? Whenever I see it and I hear Varric say "a hero was born" for some reason that makes me think that it is giving us the idea that Fenris has become a dad, soooooo, any thoughts on Fenris as a dad?

Have a good day/night

Hey! I LOVE that idea. Seriously, that is so heartwarming to think of. It's been months since I've written hc and I've never written for Fenris before, but I hope you like it! I have bonus hc's from the crew below the cut. Background: Despite being together for over several years since Act 3 and the fact that they might as well have been married, Varric and crew still found themselves surprised to hear that Fenris and Hawke were pregnant/adopting. "Broody with a Broody Jr on the way? I knew it'd happen at some point; you owe me 50 coppers, Rivani."

If pregnant - Hawke was initially worried Fenris would leave them because of their first night together, but he had proven himself loyal to a fault numerous times, the thought thankfully disrupted quickly.

Fenris is the worrying warrior until after the baby is born, or if adopting, til they bring them home.  His mind is always going a mile a minute risk calculation and problem-solving for things that haven't yet happened. Hawke has to get him to snap out of it. He's extremely attentive partially because he tries to think about any possible situation and discomfort and how to avoid it. If Hawke is pregnant, he's ready, whether through ginger tea, soothing balms, hot towels, massages, craving outings, you name it.

It's not original, but the baby would definitely be named Bethany, Leandra, or Malcolm if it's a son. With adoption, he feels a little more in control. (I love the idea of Fenris having a daughter, so that's what I'm using her. Feel free to hc differently!)

The baby loves his voice. Adores it. She perks up whenever Fenris speaks, even if it's the quietest of murmurs or humming. Fenris would talk to the baby if his partner is pregnant, calming her down, especially if she starts kicking.  

He doesn't mind getting up in the middle of the night to take care of her. He's lived on such little sleep before, but this was something worth it. He sometimes likes the quiet to reflect on his new life and gaze at the miracle in his arms.

Fenris has to be reminded to put her down sometimes so Hawke can hold her ---then Hawke has to be reminded to put down the baby so they can get work done.

Definitely lots of story time together and time spent reading books together. 

He wants his child to be curious about the world and not be afraid to question why things are the way they are. He encourages her to ask difficult questions, even if it's something he doesn't always want to answer. He will try to answer in an age-appropriate manner anyhow.

Incredibly protective. He never thought he'd have a family, and now he has someone who depends on him more than anything. He is never far from her; if he can't chase after them, she's in a playpen where he can keep watch. However, he also tells himself that falling and making mistakes is okay. Scratched knees or messes are to be expected. Fenris becomes very good at toeing the line between being protective and allowing her to pick herself up and figure out solutions "by herself." (Of course, he'll still be there to kiss it better or give her a boost.)

He and Hawke agree that they'd rather gift her love and time than gifts.

Somehow, Fenris has ended up with an extra Malbari, 2 cats, and a goat as pets.

He teaches her a lot of skills, Lots of nature excursions, and teaches her things like navigation, plant identification, starting a fire, and helping her learn a language. 

He and Hawke agree to teach her self-defense once she's old enough. He's a firm & thorough but patient teacher.

He and Hawke believe she should do whatever she pleases with her body. Does she want long-flowing hair? He'll show off his braiding skills. Does she want chopped hair like FemHawke? Done. 

If she turns out to be a mage, Fenris would accept it. He would know that was a possibility whether she was biologically theirs - because of Hawke's mage line or, if adopted, that it is a randomized gene. He would be lying if he didn't think their lives would be easier if she wasn't a mage - but that is because he is worried for her and the current politics - not so much because of his past treatment of mages. It would take him a little time to process it, but he would love her just the same……….he only hopes that Hawke or one of their friends can help with the magic because turning the floor into an ice rink or the smell of burnt hair can only be tolerated for so long.

Bonus:

The Hawke crew isn't always around, but I like to hear them stay in touch and visit. Maybe they still travel together. I hated the idea of them breaking up.

Varric has most definitely written a few adventures with her in mind - one being a talking animal version of Hawke's adventures. Another about griffons and another about malbari adventurers.

Merrill brings the sweetest gifts and loves telling stories and taking her foraging. Flower crowns are a must.

Isabela develops a liking for stuffed plushies. It started with a stuffed parrot, and before they knew it, the bed was crowded with stuff like Malbari, parrots, griffon, cats, and whatever she could find. Isabela also gives her her first pirate sword. Baby Hawke loves her jewelry.

Aveline - mage or not - offers to train her in combat. Of course, Hawke laughs and says, "She's a baby. I think she's fine for now." She'd offer to babysit - Hawke having a child really has her curious about starting her own family with Donnic when they can find the time. Donnic makes her a set of cards so she can "play" diamondback with them.

Anders offers medical care if he is around and also offers to tutor her in magic - but I think we all know what Fenris' thoughts on that would be. Still, Fenris would begrudgingly be thankful for any care he provided.

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple Slices - Slice 2

Sweetapple | Dear Mr Tracy | Along the way | Slice 1 | Slice 2

@idontknowreallywhy asked a question and I tried to answer it, but Alex and Virgil refused to behave, so we have a fic, but no answers. Also, fic is sugary sweet goop.

Oh, and it should be noted that all these Slices are standalone fics within the universe - consider them slices of life with these two :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the read through. Again, I might need to offer her that dental plan. Also to @idontknowreallywhy for egging me on.

I hope you enjoy this romantic sugar fest.

-o-o-o-

“You know, isn’t all this stuff secret?” Alex gestured around him.

Virgil shrugged and tilted his head. “You looking to sell it to anyone?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “God, no! I wouldn’t-“

The rescue operative grabbed him by both arms. “Hey, I’m kidding. We know you wouldn’t do such a thing.”

Alex froze. “We?”

Those gorgeous biceps relaxed just a little. “You don’t think we let just anyone onto our Island, do you?” And he arched a lovely eyebrow.

“You have such beautiful eyebrows.”

Both suddenly shot up.

Oh, did he say that out loud?

Eh, blame it on the concussion…from a few days ago now. The Tracy family had shown no sign of needing to kick him, or his mum, off this amazing chunk of rock. Today Virgil was off rota and Thunderbird Two was set for regular maintenance, so he had been asked down here to ‘keep Virgil company’.

So far ‘maintenance’ had consisted of staring up at the great green Thunderbird, staring around her hanger, an extended session of smooching under her tail fin, and now he was sitting on the edge of Thunderbird Two’s co-pilot seat caught between stunned amazement and the percentage chance of another snoggy in the corner.

Any corner. There were at least four in the cockpit. Did that roof hatch open?

Honestly, he had never thought this would be his state of mind when he finally got to see all of this up close.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time he had been aboard Thunderbird Two. But last time had been sudden and unexpected and his brain had been fretting over so many things.

Now he was so happy he was likely to blow a blood vessel or something.

“Yours aren’t bad either.”

What? He scrolled the conversation back a little. Oh, eyebrows. Huh. “Never thought about them much. Yours, however, definitely require thorough consideration.” He reached up a hand, and hesitating for permission, brushed a finger the length of Virgil’s left eyebrow.

Chocolate eyes eyed him from beneath. “This is new.”

Be daring. “All of this is new.” He withdrew his hand.

“You have a point.” As if in revenge, Virgil reached up and brushed a tangle of Alex’s messy blond hair behind an ear. “I can definitely get used to it.”

He also had the most beautiful smile.

Okay, he had to stop this line of thought before he grabbed Virgil and really embarrassed himself.

“Um, yeah.” He gestured vaguely around the cockpit. “How long have you been flying Thunderbird Two?”

Virgil sat back a little and let go of Alex. “Nine years as her primary pilot. Took over from my Uncle in ‘55. Though there has been some downtime during that time.”

“And you keep her maintained?”

“Me and Brains.”

“Who’s Brains?”

Virgil’s lips twisted. “You haven’t met him yet.”

Oh.

“Don’t worry.” Virgil reached across the dash and flipped a few switches. “He tends to keep to himself. I’ll drag him out of his lab later.” His finger retreated to his jawline. “I think you’ll like him.”

“I will?”

“You’ll see.”

Okay, be mysterious.

“Would you like some coffee?”

Alex stared at him. “You’re really asking that question? Even after how many times I’ve managed to steal coffee off of you.”

Virgil smirked as he stood up. “It was really only once and you were very amusing.”

“Amusing!”

Virgil was laughing as he strode over to a corner of the cockpit, hit some buttons, and revealed the holy grail of all coffee.

Alex couldn’t help but stand up and be drawn to it. Virgil had given him the plans to this creation from heaven, but between Siliwrap and Virgil’s visits, he hadn’t managed to find time to finish putting it together yet.

Besides there was something about the coffee being handed to him by a visiting handsome rescue operative that was its own kind of addictive.

And Virgil always brought plenty.

His drug dealer of choice, apparently.

“Hey, you still with me?” A hand was on his arm and Alex realised he had been standing, staring at the holy grail like a stunned mullet just a little too long.

Virgil had that worried medical frown on his face again.

He had done that a lot over the last couple days.

The man had enough bruises on his arms and legs to pop Alex’s eyes out of their sockets - something about a roof almost falling on him during the Gisborne rescue. Yet Virgil brushed it off as a day-to-day thing.

He was ‘fine’, don’t you ‘worry’, happens ‘all the time’.

But the scattering of bruises Alex possessed, the headache that popped up every now and again, and any slight croakiness of his voice and Virgil was all over him with that yellow scanner thing.

Speaking of which…

Alex grabbed Virgil’s wrist gently as he attempted to wave a randomly appearing scanner over Alex’s head. “I’m okay, Virgil.”

The wrist in his hand relaxed and the yellow light switched off. A gentle tug and Alex let Virgil’s wrist go and the man turned away, stashing the gadget back into wherever it came from.

It was very obvious that Alex had scared him by being caught in the earthquake.

Alex took that extra step closer, slipped up behind, and slid his arms around the man’s chest, resting his chin on Virgil’s shoulder. “I’m okay.”

Heavy lifting arms wrapped around his. “I know.”

“You do realise you have brought me into the presence of the machine that makes your glorious coffee. I mean, I should be kneeling on the floor, bowing in reverence.” A smile. “Give me something to hold so I can drop it in amazement.”

Virgil chuckled. “I doubt you could pick me up.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Virgil twisted himself around in Alex’s arms until they were facing each other. “I could say that you already have, but that pun line is groan-worthy.”

Alex did groan, but then Virgil’s lips found his and he was suddenly very much distracted.

Yes, this corner would do nicely.

-o-o-o-

[nerdzzone]

Worlds Apart

Chapter Six

Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?

Series Masterlist

-----

Bridget was notably less nervous as she drove towards Chris’ house for their second date than she had been for their first.

There was still a flicker of anxiety in her stomach as being face to face was slightly more intimidating than texting or their occasional phone conversations, but she was more confident in Chris’ interest in her after their months of talking and was hopeful that the level of comfort they’d reached would help counteract any potential awkwardness. They’d never had to force conversation while he’d been away and things always felt very natural between them, but she was aware that the strain of the long interlude between the two dates might seem more obvious in person.

She tried not to let herself get too in her own head about the situation as she knew from past experience that worrying about potential trouble before it arose tended to cause more problems than it solved, but she didn’t want to be caught off guard by anything that might help her anxiety get the best of her. She’d settled for simply assuming things would be just as easy when they were together as they were when they were apart while also bracing herself for the potential of a slightly awkward settling in period as she hoped that their evening would go as well as she was expecting.

However, as she drove up his long driveway until his large house came into view, she was once again reminded of how different their lives were. She stared in awe at the incredibly nice house until she was parked in front of it and drowning in a feeling of inferiority. It made her house look like a tiny, old shack and she was embarrassed by what he must have thought when he saw it. It was enough space for her and Landon and she took pride in taking care of it and making it a nice home - hence the quick and thorough interior design shift - but compared to the standard that Chris was clearly used to, her house was practically a shed.

She was surprised though when movement by the front door caught her attention and snapped her back to reality as the sight of Chris leaning against the doorframe had all of her worries slipping from her mind. They were replaced with the giddiness that always seemed to hit her whenever his name had popped up on her phone, but now he was there - just a few feet away - and she hurried to grab the things she’d brought with her from the passenger seat before climbing out of the car.

“Your house is amazing,” she gushed as she walked up the stairs of his porch.

“Thanks,” he smirked. “Just wait until you see the bright pink accent wall in the living room.”

His teasing earned a bark of laughter as Bridget rolled her eyes.

“Very funny, but I’m sure you have better taste than the possibly colorblind previous owners of my home.”

“I do, I definitely do,” he chuckled at his own joke, but as he peeked through the plastic wrap that covered the top of the mixing bowl she’d been holding, his eyes widened. “Did you actually make the pizza dough?”

After Chris had spent so much time on the road and away from home, they’d decided that their second date would just be a nice quiet evening at his house. He’d offered to order in some food, but Bridget had suggested making homemade pizza instead. She thought it would be a fun little activity for them to do together and had offered to bring the dough if Chris got the toppings so she was slightly confused by his question.

“Yes?” She answered, the word sounding far more like a question of her own than a statement. “I thought that was the plan?”

“Yeah, it was,” Chris assured her as he led her into the house. Despite his teasing, it was just as nice inside as it was on the outside. The decoration was quite minimalist and the level of tidiness and organization had her feeling another twinge of embarrassment about the well lived-in state of her own home, but Chris pulled her attention away from the décor as he continued. “I just didn’t expect you to make it, I guess. I thought you’d just buy it.”

“No way, homemade is way better,” she insisted, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the thought of bringing anything else. “It didn’t take me long, it’s Landon’s favourite so I’ve kinda mastered the process.”

“Oh, so you’re a pro?” Chris flashed her a smirk as he put all the stuff on the table. “I guess I’m in for a treat then.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bridget protested. “I haven’t necessarily mastered the recipe, but I’ve mastered the preparation process so it doesn’t take long and I had to work late last night so I took the afternoon off and had plenty of time to make it.”

“Well, I appreciate your dedication,” Chris smiled. “The toppings are in the bag on the counter.”

Intrigued to see what he’d chosen, Bridget rolled up her sleeves as she moved towards the bag he’d pointed to, but she was surprised when she passed by him and his hand shot out to gently grab hers. She froze, wondering if she’d done something wrong, but the look on his face and the way his other hand slid around her waist to steer her body in towards his had her relaxing slightly despite the way her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest. 

The anticipation had the air around them suddenly feeling thick and heavy, but the way Chris had paused once he’d pulled her into his arms had her feeling a little confused and after a moment of waiting for some kind of explanation, she asked, “Is everything okay?”

Her voice was low and soft, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the room and pried Chris out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, never better,” he smiled. “It’s just that I was gonna use some line about hoping we could say hello properly, but it seems a little cheesy.”

Bridget matched his smile as she moved her hand that wasn’t being held by his up to rest on his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“What does that even mean?”

“Who knows,” Chris shrugged. “But I’ve been thinking about kissing you pretty much from the moment our last kiss ended so I’d really like to do it again if you don’t mind.”

It seemed cliche, but Bridget swore her heart literally skipped a beat at his confession. However, despite her sudden heart palpitations and the fact that how he was holding her had her almost forgetting how to breathe, she bit back the smirk that was threatening to sneak onto her face.

“That was pretty cheesy too,” she teased him. “But I’ve also been thinking about that a lot so I’d very much like it if you did.”

Her confirmation was all it took for Chris to move his hand up to cup her cheek before leaning forward to press his lips against hers. It was soft and sweet - tender, if Bridget had to sum it up in one word - as the emotions and feelings they’d developed over the last few months of conversations clearly heightened their connection. She leaned into his embrace and revelled in the feeling of his lips that she’d spent so many hours daydreaming about until he reluctantly pulled away.

“That was even better than I remember,” Chris murmured, a soft and satisfied smile on his face that had a giggle slipping from Bridget’s lips. “Definitely worth waiting for.”

“I agree,” Bridget nodded. “But I hope you won’t leave me waiting so long for the next one.”

Chris opened his mouth to reply - with Bridget hoping that he’d simply offer to kiss her again immediately with no waiting necessary - but the sounds of scratching and a loud, indignant bark distracted them.

“That’s Dodger,” Chris explained as Bridget moved out of his grasp. “I put him in the backyard. I don’t think he’s very happy about it, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about dogs.”

“I love dogs,” she rushed to assure him, horrified that there was any doubt. “I just don’t have time to train one while I’m taking care of Landon, but we had a great time when we borrowed him from Carly while you were away.”

“Okay, great,” Chris smiled, appearing visibly relieved by that information. “So is it cool if I let him back in?”

Bridget nodded enthusiastically and Chris briefly disappeared from the room until the sound of claws pattering on the floor echoed down the hall and Dodger barreled into the kitchen with Chris right behind him. As soon as Dodger saw Bridget, his tail began to wag frantically as he bolted towards her and jumped up to lick at her face in greeting. She could hear Chris chuckle as he told Dodger to behave and leave her alone, but she simply laughed as she rubbed at the dog’s fur.

“Hi, buddy,” she greeted him. “How are you? Do you remember me from that big walk we went on?”

“I think he does,” Chris observed. “He seems to like you.”

“I get the impression that he likes most people.”

“That’s true, but he is a good judge of character,” Chris insisted before whistling to get Dodger’s attention. “That’s enough, bubba, leave her alone.”

Reluctantly, Dodger listened to his owner and sauntered back over towards Chris as Bridget made her way over to the bag on the counter that she’d intended to investigate before Chris had interrupted. What she found seemed to be almost enough supplies to make pizza for half the town and she told him as much as she started unpacking the bag, placing the wide array of toppings on the counter as Chris chuckled at her teasing.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” he explained. “Your answer of ‘whatever’ wasn’t super informative.”

“No, but I meant it,” Bridget shrugged. “I’m used to settling for whatever Landon prefers, it’s made me adaptable.”

“Well, I don’t want you to have to settle tonight,” Chris insisted. “I want you to have whatever you really want.”

The sincerity in his voice had Bridget filled with an appreciation for his thoughtfulness and she flashed him a grateful smile as he leaned back on the counter beside her and asked, “So, it’s been a while since I made pizza at home, what do we do first?”

Happy to explain, Bridget launched into a brief rundown of what they would have to do before pushing her sleeves back up her arms, asking where the flour was and liberally sprinkling it on the counter. She unwrapped the bowl with the dough, gave them each a decent portion and they set to work, molding and shaping their pizzas before adding all the many toppings that Chris had chosen for them. With Chris’ kiss breaking the tension, Bridget was pleasantly surprised by how casual the physical contact was between them as they worked. His hand on her waist to let her know he was there as he moved behind her, a bump of his hip following a teasing comment, tucking her hair behind her ear when her hands were too floury to do it herself. He hadn’t been lying when he shared that he was physical with his affection and Bridget was soaking up every minute of it.  

Any worries she’d had that it might be awkward or that the conversations they’d had over the phone might almost seem like they were with a different man than the one who’d taken her on a date all those months ago were clearly unnecessary. Her lack of recent practice in the dating scene left her far from an expert, but from her previous experience she was pretty certain that it was rare to connect with someone as quickly as she had with Chris. As early as it was, she had a very good feeling about their relationship and was hopeful that Chris felt the same way.

Time flew by as they cooked, ate and got lost in conversation, and they stayed sitting at the table long after the meal was finished as they were too engrossed in each other to even realize they could move to somewhere more comfortable. They covered a wide range of topics from typical everyday things to more personal revelations, but Bridget found herself letting her guard down so easily around Chris and noticed that he seemed to do the same. Considering his career and level of fame, she wouldn’t have held it against him if he held his cards a little closer to his chest, but he opened up just as much as she did and the trust that she knew he was putting in her every time he spoke about his family or his hopes and dreams only solidified her belief that he shared her hope for their relationship.

And that belief only got stronger when she glanced at the clock later that night and announced that she should head home and he immediately blurted out the question: “When can I see you again?”

“Well, next week is my week with Landon,” she explained before sharing the suggestion she’d thought of to avoid going an entire week without seeing him. “But I don’t work on Tuesday and Thursday when he’s with me and he did really enjoy spending time with Dodger so I was thinking maybe we could all go for a hike?”

“Yeah? You’re okay with me spending time with him?”

“Yeah,” Bridget shrugged. “He knows that we’re friends.”

“Friends…” Chris repeated, shooting her a sly smile. “And is that all that we are?”

The question had Bridget’s cheeks growing hot as she knew the answer that she wanted to give - and that she was fairly certain he wanted to hear - but the potential rejection that came with being the first to admit it had her feeling rather vulnerable.

“Well,” she started, forcing a smirk to hide her nervousness. “I don’t let any of my friends kiss me the way you did when I got here, but explaining the concept of dating to a four year old might be kinda tricky.”

“That’s fair,” Chris chuckled. “As long as we’re on the same page.”

“I think we are,” Bridget nodded, unable to control the grin that he always seemed to put so easily on her face. “But I also understand if you don’t want Landon to be around. Obviously, eventually that would be important to me, but if you’d rather keep things just us for now then I totally get that.”

She was being honest with her reassurance, but the surprise on his face and the quick shake of his head definitely put her at ease. Landon was the most important thing to her and if whatever they were starting was going to go anywhere then it would only work if Chris was as happy to include him in their plans as she was.

“I don’t mind at all!” Chris insisted. “He seems like a really great kid.”

“He is,” Bridget smiled proudly. “And if you bring Dodger then that will keep him entertained all afternoon.”

“Well, Dodger would be pissed if I went for a hike and left him at home so he will definitely be there,” Chris chuckled. “I do have an appointment on Tuesday though. It might not be long, but it’s right in the middle of the afternoon so maybe Thursday would be better?”

“Thursday sounds great.”

Bridget rose from the table as she confirmed their plans, but as she grabbed the plates and turned towards the sink, Chris stood as well and voiced his protests.

“Don’t worry about the dishes, I have a dishwasher.”

“I figured, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you clean up a little.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to,” he insisted. “I thought you had to get home.”

His reminder earned a snort of laughter from Bridget as she put the plates in the sink and turned back to him with a smirk and an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Are you trying to get rid of me now?”

Chris took advantage of the way she’d moved away from the counter to face him and slid his arm around her waist to tug her body towards his as he’d done earlier in the evening.

“Definitely not,” he assured her, a cheeky grin on his face. “But if you’re gonna stick around then I can think of a few things we could do that are more fun than washing dishes.”

As Chris let his hands settle on her waist, Bridget let hers drape over his shoulders as his words had her swallowing hard.

“Oh yeah?” She questioned, her voice softer than it had been moments before. “Like what?”

“Like this…”

As he dipped his chin down, the brief moment of anticipation had Bridget’s heart fluttering in her chest before he finally captured her lips with his once again. His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her even closer to his chest, but Bridget needed no encouragement to lean into his embrace. She found herself noting how easy it would be to get lost in his touch, his warm and comforting scent and the way he nipped at her bottom lip, but after letting herself indulge for a few moments, she slowly dragged her lips away and let out a happy sigh as she peered up at him.

“That is a very tempting offer,” she informed him. “But I really should get going, I have to work in the morning.”

“On a Saturday?”

The surprise in his voice was clear and Bridget begrudgingly nodded her head.

“We’re doing a storytime picnic thing on the first Saturday of every month for the summer,” she explained. “And tomorrow is the first Saturday in June. It sounded like a good idea back in February, but now I’m regretting it a little bit.”

“I know that feeling,” Chris chuckled. “But maybe it’ll be fun?”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Bridget smiled as she pulled herself out of his arms as much as it pained her to do so. “The morning might be a little hectic, but once things get underway it should be a good time.”

She picked up her mixing bowl from where she’d left it on the counter, but Chris quickly took it from her hands.

“Leave that here,” he insisted. “I’ll wash it and give it back to you on Thursday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Unless you need it before then?” Chris waited for her to shake her head before placing it back on the counter. “Then leave it. I don’t want you taking home dirty dishes to clean at home, that would make me a pretty bad host.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Bridget shrugged with a smile as they headed towards the door. “But thank you, I appreciate your chivalry.”

Her word choice earned a raise of Chris’ eyebrow as he questioned her.

“Is that really chivalrous?” He asked. “You must have a pretty low bar.”

“Trust me,” Bridget scoffed. “My bar is pretty much on the ground, so you’re absolutely exceeding expectations.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Chris mused, his eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare as he opened the front door. “You might just need to raise your standards.”

“I don’t think so,” Bridget admitted. “I think you’d be a catch regardless of how high my standards are.”

In a move that surprised them both, she stretched up to emphasize her words by stealing another quick kiss before slipping out the door and heading back to her car as she waved over her shoulder.

-

Bridget thought that it would be almost impossible for anyone to be more excited about seeing Chris on Thursday than she was.

However, when she mentioned their plan to spend the afternoon hiking to Landon, she had to admit that his enthusiasm definitely rivalled her own and even though she was pretty sure that it had more to do with Dodger than it did with Chris, she was happy that he found the prospect of hanging out with their new friends to be as exciting as she did. He spent the entire morning asking when they were leaving and as much as the perpetual ‘how much longer?’ usually got on her nerves, Bridget could hardly complain as she found herself checking the time just as frequently.

By the time they were pulling into the small parking lot by the trail that Chris had sent her directions to, their anticipation had them both practically leaping out of the car as soon as it was parked. Landon waited to walk beside Bridget - knowing better than to dart off in the middle of a parking lot - but as soon as they reached the trail and could see Chris and Dodger waiting for them by a tree, his restraint slipped and he bolted towards them, calling out for his new favourite dog. When Bridget caught up, Chris was laughing and warning Dodger to be gentle as he practically wrestled with Landon on the ground and she smiled as she rolled her eyes.

“Landon, did you even say hi to Chris?” She asked. “Or did you just go straight for Dodger?”

“He went straight for Dodge,” Chris admitted. “But I’m used to him stealing the show whenever he’s around.”

“I’m not surprised,” she smiled, but when Chris whistled for Dodger to pull his attention away from his new friend and Landon stood up, Bridget reminded him of his manners again. “Are you gonna say hi to Chris too?”

“Hi, Chris,” he grinned, waiting for Chris to greet him before he added, “I really like your dog.”

“He really likes you too,” Chris chuckled. “He was very excited to go on a hike with you today.”

“Me too!”

Landon’s enthusiasm spoke for itself, but Bridget chuckled as she nodded in agreement.

“He was,” she confirmed. “He’s been counting down the minutes all morning.”

“So was I.” Chris flashed her a smirk that had her smile widening even more as his words hung in the air between them for a moment before he changed the subject. “Are we ready to head out? The trail isn’t too long or challenging, but it’s pretty scenic so it’s one of my favourites.”

“Everywhere is scenic around here compared to living in the city,” she pointed out as they headed down the path. “I feel like an idiot for not exploring more around here, it’s not like Boston is a million miles away.”

It was something that Bridget had been reflecting on as they explored their new town and she realized how little she’d ventured out of the city. She’d been to a few places for weekend getaways, but it was surprising - and embarrassing - how little she’d really seen of her home state and she was determined to embrace any opportunity to experience the beauty that it had to offer. However, before she could elaborate on her statement and share that with Chris, Landon interrupted. 

“You’re not supposed to say that,” he informed her. “My teachers say idiot isn’t a nice word.”

Chris chuckled at his scolding as Bridget cringed, knowing he was right. The daycare he attended had mentioned in their weekly update email that words like that were a problem they were currently working on with all the children and had gently reminded parents to be cautious how they talk at home as the kids were always listening. While Bridget was fairly certain that Landon knew better than to use words like that when talking to or about his friends, clearly she needed the reminder to watch what she said.

“You’re right, buddy, I shouldn't have said that,” she admitted. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome,” Landon shrugged before turning his attention to Chris. “Are you an astronaut?”

“Me?” Chris asked, his shock at the question written all over his face as Landon nodded. “I wish! That would be so cool, but unfortunately not. What made you think that?”

“Mommy said that you know lots about space,” Landon informed him, his voice laced with disappointment. “I wanted to go with you.”

“I know a little bit about space,” Chris corrected. “But I do like learning about it and I would love to go too.”

“I wanna go to Jupiter! It’s the biggest planet!”

“It is,” Chris nodded in agreement. “I bet it’s pretty cool, but the pictures I’ve seen from Mars are pretty amazing too.”

“There’s pictures from Mars?” Landon asked, his eyes wide with excitement. “I haven’t seen that!”

Chris gasped and shot Bridget an accusatory look as he pulled out his phone, but she simply shrugged.

“I told you, I don’t know much about it,” she defended herself. “That didn’t come up when I was Googling stuff.”

“You must not have been looking very hard,” he teased, but after a moment of typing on his phone, he slipped it back into his pocket with a sigh. “I don’t have a great service out here so I can’t find the pictures, but maybe it’ll work when we get back to the car. Can you remind me then?”

“Uh huh, I’ll remember!” Landon promised and Bridget had no doubt in her mind that he would as he asked Chris another question. “Can I hold Dodger’s leash?”

“Of course!”

Chris happily handed it over to Landon and they watched as he darted off down the path with Dodger galloping along happily beside him. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Chris slipped his hand into Bridget’s and pulled her close enough against his side for him to lean down and steal a kiss before letting her slip away as if nothing had happened. She appreciated his discretion around Landon, but the fleeting warmth of his hand around hers was almost enough for her to throw caution to the wind and she was relieved when his voice distracted her from the temptation.

“I think I’ve said this before, but he’s a good kid,” Chris observed, nodding his head towards Landon as if she might not know who he was referring to. “I see what you mean about his energy though.”

“Oh yeah, energy and enthusiasm are two things that he is definitely not lacking,” Bridget smiled. “I used to be kinda worried about how he’ll do in school, but he really loves to learn so I think that’ll motivate him to focus some of his energy.”

“Does he like to learn about everything? Or just things that interest him?”

“Right now, he’s into pretty much everything. I’m sure when he gets older he’ll have more specific things he likes and things that he’ll find painfully boring, but he finds everything fascinating at the moment,” Bridget explained. “He loves numbers, letters, and trying to read. He’s obsessed with how things work and why things happen. He just wants to know everything about everything.”

“It’s hard to imagine how big the world must look to kids his age,” Chris mused. “I know there was a time when we were all just baffled little four year olds, but there’s so much knowledge we have as adults that we take for granted.”

“I know what you mean,” Bridget agreed. “But his curiosity is definitely making me smarter. There’s a lot of questions he asks where the first answer that comes to mind is ‘just because’, but that’s never satisfactory for him so it forces me to really think about real explanations for why or how things happen.”

“I’ve run into that with my niece and nephews a few times,” Chris sympathized. “But then it can be hard to explain some of the big concepts that they want to know in a way they can understand.”

“Exactly,” Bridget smiled. “I’m always like ‘chill, kid, let’s focus on learning the alphabet before we start tackling all the mysteries of the universe’.”

Her words pulled a bark of laughter from Chris that had her biting back a smirk at the pride she felt at being responsible for the sound until they settled into a comfortable silence. The only sound around them was the crunch of the trail under their feet and Landon’s giggles as he paused to play tug-of-war over a stick with Dodger and the moment filled Bridget with a contentment that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing from her life. However, the next question out of Chris’ mouth put her a little on edge.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Of course,” she assured him. “You can ask me anything.”

“Have you told your ex about me?” He asked before clarifying, “Landon’s dad, I mean.”

Relieved that despite his suddenly serious tone that was all he wanted to know, Bridget nodded her head.

“I told him I was seeing someone when he dropped Landon off on Sunday,” she informed him. “I was vague - I didn’t tell him who you are or anything - but I told him that we’d gone on a couple dates and that I hope we’ll be going on a lot more.”

Bridget couldn’t help but notice the smile that her admission put on Chris’ face and it had her hope shifting into optimism even when he glossed over it as he continued his questioning.

“Does he know that I’m hanging out with you when Landon’s around?” He asked. “Is he okay with that?”

“I told him about our plans for today and he was fine with it. I think he trusts me to handle it in a way that won’t lead to Landon getting hurt.”

“That’s good,” Chris nodded. “I know it can be kinda complicated and I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

“You’re definitely not,” she assured him. “And as much as I will always try to be respectful of Marcus, he doesn’t really have the right to comment too much on any relationships that I have given the way that his relationship started.”

“Do you mind if I ask about that?” Chris questioned. “About how it all went down?”

“I’m a pretty open book, you can ask me anything,” Bridget repeated with a smile. “But there’s not that much to tell. He got a little distant almost as soon as I told him that I was pregnant, but I thought that I was just hormonal and paranoid. It got worse around the five month mark so I confronted him and he completely fell apart and told me everything - how he’d been struggling with his sexuality, but he was gay and he couldn’t hide it anymore. Then he told me about David and how they’d been seeing each other for months, pretty much since the day I told him I was pregnant.”

Chris shook his head, the furrow of his brow showing he was clearly unimpressed by what she’d shared as he asked, “And you were able to get over that?”

“It definitely took some time,” Bridget admitted. “I was devastated at first. I went from thinking we were starting a family to realizing I was going to be a single mom and it felt even worse knowing that Marcus was still starting a family, but with our child and someone else. I was terrified that they were going to cut me out and that I wouldn’t be able to give Landon everything that they could. All while I was trying to deal with just how horrible it felt to be cheated on.”

“So how did you get through it?”

“Because I had to,” she shrugged. “I knew I had to think about Landon so I gave myself a week to be sad and mope around and then I made myself regroup. The best thing for him is to have two parents who love him and can work as a team so that’s what I focused on and Marcus was always very clear that he did love me, he just wasn’t in love with me for reasons he can’t control so after some time passed and all the dust settled, we were able to keep the strong friendship that we’d built while we were together.”

There was a moment of silence as Chris took in her words before he processed it enough to comment.

“You’re a very strong person,” he commended her, the sincerity shining through in his voice. “I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive something like that so easily.”

“If it wasn’t for Landon then I’m not sure that I would have either. Marcus is a good friend though so I am happy that I did,” Bridget admitted. “But that’s kinda why he can’t say much about my dating life now. I never argued about David’s involvement in Landon’s life so as long as he’s safe and happy then it’s none of Marcus’ business who I let into his life and I think he knows that.”

“Well, I’m glad that he’s not giving you a hard time. I wouldn’t wanna get in the way.”

Bridget appreciated his concern, but his worry had a scoff falling from her lips.

“If he had an issue with it then it would be him getting in the way,” she insisted. “As long as Landon is safe then his opinion is not important.”

The confidence with which she spoke seemed to remove any lingering doubt that he had as a chuckle fell from his lips and he threw his arm around her shoulder to pull her close enough to press a kiss into her hair.

They followed Landon and Dodger down the path, happy to let them lead the way as they enjoyed the time it gave them to talk as Landon enjoyed hanging out with his new furry friend. He did a great job of running free without going too far ahead or veering off the trail and it wasn’t until they were halfway back to their cars that they had to call for him to stop when Bridget needed to re-tie her shoe. Chris took the opportunity to call Dodger over for a drink of water, but Bridget didn’t even notice that Landon hadn’t followed until a question from Chris pulled her eyes up from her shoelaces.

“Uh, how do we feel about climbing trees?”

Bridget followed Chris’ gaze to see Landon - unsurprisingly - beginning to scale one of the large trees on the side of the trail and a sigh fell from her lips.

“It depends which one of us you ask,” she explained as she quickly finished tying her shoe and rose back up from her squat. “Landon loves it and thinks it should be his new favourite hobby, but I find it very stressful and have visions of him falling and being impaled on a branch so we came up with a compromise.”

“Oh, yeah?”

A soft smirk was on Chris’ face as he questioned her, apparently amused by the situation as Bridget nodded and turned to Landon to remind him of their deal.

“Landon!” She called, catching his attention. “Remember not to go any higher than my head!”

Even with the distance between them, his disappointment was clear as he let out a whine of frustration.

“But you’re not big!” They heard him call back before proposing a counter offer. “Can I go as high as Chris? He can help if I get stuck!”

It was less about him getting stuck and more about him falling to his death that had Bridget worried, but she also knew that taking risks and pushing boundaries was how kids learned and improved their skills and there was an argument to be made for how climbing trees could help his confidence and coordination. She could feel Chris watching her, waiting for her approval before he offered Landon his support so after wrestling with her concern for a moment longer, she let out another sigh and nodded her head.

“If Chris doesn’t mind then I guess that would be okay.” The words were barely out of Bridget’s mouth before Landon let out a cheer of excitement and continued his scramble up the branches, earning an eye roll from his mother as her and Chris sauntered over to him. “I can tell him to stop if you’re not comfortable helping since he clearly isn’t going to wait for you to agree.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Chris chuckled. “I used to love climbing trees when I was a kid so I don’t mind helping out if he needs it.”

As promised, Landon stopped when he got about six feet in the air, but after he took a moment to observe - and express his jealousy that Chris got to see from so high up all the time - he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure how to get down. Bridget could see the panic growing on his face, but before she could offer him any reassurance or advice, Chris beat her to it. With admirable patience, he gently and calmly guided Landon down through the branches in a way that allowed him to get himself out of the sticky situation that he’d created without Chris physically needing to help him. It was a display of Chris’ natural comfort and skill with kids and by the time Landon had both feet safely on the ground - proudly celebrating that he’d done it by himself - Bridget’s heart was feeling very warm and full. Unable to resist, she slipped her hand into his and pulled him close to her side as she murmured her thanks while Landon dragged Dodger off ahead of them once again.

By the time they made it back to the start of the trail, it was safe to say that Landon was exhausted. He tried to deny it even as he dragged his feet and rubbed his sleepy eyes, but he found one last burst of energy as Bridget helped him get strapped into his booster seat.

“Chris! You didn’t show me Mars!”

Bridget laughed at his reminder as she heard Chris chuckling behind her and as she backed out of the car he quickly asked her for her phone. She unlocked it and handed it over, watching curiously as he searched until he found a video and hit play before handing the phone to Landon.

“There you go, buddy,” he smiled. “Watch that for a minute, okay?”

Landon absentmindedly agreed as he was already distracted by the video from the robot on Mars and Chris carefully closed the car door. Satisfied that Landon was sufficiently distracted, he pulled Bridget into his arms and wasted no time before he pressed his lips against hers. The speed of his movements had her letting out a gasp, but it didn’t take long for her to smile against his mouth and lean into his body. She’d been surprised by how much of a struggle it had been to keep things strictly ‘just friends’ between them all afternoon and she embraced the opportunity to indulge in his touch. When he pulled away a moment later, she was desperate to chase his lips for more, but she forced herself to remember the little eyes that could be watching and let him step out of her grasp.

“I had fun today,” he smiled. “We should do something like this again soon.”

“We should,” Bridget agreed, trying to shake the daze she always felt after he kissed her. “I’ll text you later?”

“Sounds good,” Chris nodded as she opened her car door. “Get home safe.”

“You too.”

Bridget flashed him a smile as she climbed into her car, reflecting on how it seemed to get harder and harder to say goodbye every time they parted ways, but as she drove away and waved to him in the rearview mirror she was feeling incredibly grateful for the afternoon they’d spent together and how easy and natural it felt to include Chris into the life that she was used to sharing solely with Landon.

[conjuredsun]

Hello,

I'm currently studding traditional witchcraft after trying to follow wicca for quite a long time. I had such a disconnect from the wiccan ways and its like breath of fresh air finding traditional craft. I identify with it deeply. I started my journey with "The Crooked Path" by Kelden and I'm currently trying to get more books on the subject (but money is tight ofc).

I saw your beautiful post about the witch father, and I was hoping to ask you a bit more about the witch father. I did the ritual in "The Crooked Path" and have gotten many signs that it worked and ofc I could tell while doing the ritual itself. I kind of picture the witch father as Baphomet and that's how the witch father has manifested in dreams and synchronicities I've noticed.

I've tried looking up more about the witch father but the internet just keeps putting me in circles. I've even looked at numerous theistic satanism resources for answers as well, but I'm not sure if that's the right place to look either. So, my question is, how do I keep and foster a good relationship and where can I find more information on him. "The Crooked Path" is an excellent book but its just an excerpt after all. Thank you ahead of time and sorry for the ramble.

Hello! And thank you for your question, no need to worry about rambling. I know how trying to find information can be dizzying and how much it can send you in circles. (Also I want to say sorry for taking a few days to get back to you- it’s been a *week* for me)

First, I do want to say that yes, the Witch Father has also manifested to me similarly to Baphomet but they are very much dissimilar and I don’t find a thread between the two. For more about Baphomet, you really have to dig into the works of Éliphas Lévi (which will definitely lead to a Golden Dawn rabbit hole.

As for theistic satanism resources, that would be the wrong place to look for information on the Witch Father. The paths are very very different in their approach.

To dig deeper into the Witch Father, I would suggest parsing through “Ancient Criminal Trials in Scotland” by Robert Pitcairn. It’s a compendium of transcriptions from trials and other legal documents. There you can search through different witch craft trials (you can read it free on Google books) and especially the transcript from the trial of Isobel Gowdie. But be warned, it’s not written in modern English and can be tricky to read in some parts.

Another book I’ll recommend is “The Witches’ Devil” by Roger Horne it’s pretty thorough and explores the Witch Father in his many guises.

Above all, this is an experiencial path. Look for Him in the untamed wilderness. Don’t stick to the well worn paths through the woods. Look for the oldest, most primal parts and find the Heart of the path here. In all of His stories, he is nature untamed and primal. That is where you can find him.

Keep working through “The Crooked Path.” It’s an amazing primer for the path and as you forge the connections they will strengthen and you’ll get a better understanding of who The Witch Father is. Hold the Sabbaths, practice your magic and your devotion. Research is great and I always recommend it, but the practicing is why you’re here. Do the magic, do the works. Fostering your Witch Flame is what will turn the relationship from embers into an inferno.

I hope this helps and always feel free to ask follow up questions 💜

[hawkinsgirlnextdoor]

okay but imagine dming a girls-only dnd campaign with Nancy, Robin, El, Max, and Erica

The D&D scene in Hawkins has always been kind of barren. A boys club if you will. Of course there was always the party and the Hellfire Club but you were always looking for a space where you could feel more comfortable playing with other girls. 

When things become more stable in Hawkins you acquired a solid group of female friends. Nancy and Robin are your age, and while you definitely spend time with the boys, you’ve started to hang out just the three of you. 

El and Max are younger than you but you always enjoy their company. You serve as a kind of older sister figure to the party and the two of them kind of look up to you. 

You’ve only recently started hanging around Erica but you like her a lot and once she gets in to D&D you two start to bond. 

It’s actually Erica’s idea to start the campaign in the first place. 

All of the girls are coming in with different levels of experience. 

Nancy has observed D&D through Mike for a good chunk of her life and has occasionally participated so she knows the basic mechanics and other random facts about the game. 

Robin has never touched a 20 sided die in her life. The people that she’s hung out with before the summer of 85 were never the type to play D&D and she barley knew it existed before the whole Satanic Panic thing started to sweep Hawkins. 

Max has always been a bit put off by D&D. At first it was something that was used to exclude her from the group and once she became friends with the party she would be insecure that she wasn’t as good at it as the boys were. Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will had been playing forever and she feels like she doesn’t fit in.

When you pitch the idea to her you assure her that the majority of the participants are starting from square one and there's nothing to be worried about. That persuades her to give it a shot. 

El is just happy to be doing something with other girls. Of course she’s friends with Max but she longs for more female company. She also knows a little about D&D due to how much Mike has tried to explain it to her. 

Once Robin is introduced to D&D and learns the rules she’s super psyched about playing and creating her character. She also rolls her dice really weird (big Ally Beardsley ala Fantasy High energy). 

Robin is obsessed with languages so she quickly tries to learn Elvish and uses it during role play. Her experience in drama also leads her to commit especially hard (sometimes too much lol). 

As for classes and races: Robin plays as a teifling bard, Erica as a half-elf rouge, Max as a tabaxi barbarian (my first instinct was also rouge but Lady Applejack is already a rouge so gahhh), El as a half-elf mage, and Nancy as an elven duel class cleric and fighter.

Nancy is the resident note taker and jots down every detail, stat, and piece of inventory. 

She also probably unravels all of your planning with her great detective work. Like you’ll spend ten hours crafting a mystery that's supposed to be revealed in the very last session and she cracks it by the third.

Erica spends hours hand painting minis for each character. The detail is astounding.

"Did you paint a tiny star in her eye?" "I'm thorough."

El is that player who cannot do basic addition for the life of her (aka me). Max always has her back though.

"I rolled an eighteen. Eighteen plus seven is ....." "Twenty five." "Thank you."

El is also proficient in animal handling and constantly adopts wildly dangerous creatures to be her pets.

You might think that Erica is a head-straight-into-battle kind of player due to the absolute powerhouse that is Lady Applejack but she's actually incredibly tactical. Her and Nancy tend to alternate as party leader.

Max and Robin on the other hand are the kind of players who crave chaos.

You: "The villager seems to know something about the creature that lives in the woods. You can see however that he's apprehensive to answer any of your questions."

Max: "This guy is totally shady." Robin: "Yeah you're right ... we should punch him." Max: "Oh my god you're so right. If I roll a nat 20 can a tooth fly out?"

As a DM you are very attentive to your players. You craft scenarios for each girl to shine and show their growth as a player. You also make little dice boxes and customize. You make their favorite treats and have them in the middle of the table every session.

You notice they all seem to be getting closer and more comfortable with the game which warms your heart.

Sessions are hosted on Friday nights and usually conclude with movies, pizza, and sleeping over someone's house based on the availability of their living room.

Each girl also gets to make her own mixtape to play during sessions. The vibes of which are all over the place. Joan Jett, Pat Benatar, Kate Bush, Tiffany, Blondie. The works.

The environment of the campaign is so comfortable. Yes you're putting their characters through horrible danger and mental gymnastics but its out of love <3.

Your players are amazing. You feel so lucky that you're able to share something you love with the girls in your life and make it your own.

By the time you're nearing the end of your campaign Dustin and Lucas are begging to get in on the action for the next one, only to be disappointed when Robin slams the door in their faces clarifying that this party is "Ladies Only!".

[bigskydreaming]

Hi, I read your post about the 10 misconceptions concerning Dick Grayson…if you don’t mind, who was the person who sexually assaulted him the “first” time? You said he worked with them in a superhero/crimefighting capacity…I’m just asking because I’ve never heard of that & sometimes I do want to know canon instead of just fanon. It’s cool if you want to answer this privately (in case others feel uncomfortable with the topic). I know you probably have more important stuff to do, so if you just want to give me the name of the character & the arc, I can look up the rest.

Anyway, thanks for the informative post. Hope you’re well.

No worries! The character/event I was referring to prior to Tarantula was Mirage, a teammate on the New Teen Titans briefly, and there's a looooooot of fanon to wade through about this, much of which I don't personally agree with. Including (and in some cases especially) in regards to a lot of the fanon that uses this to woobify Dick at the express expense of Kory, which I personally hate. (It really needs to be talked about more that Kory is a sexual assault survivor herself, IMO).

Furthermore, there's a tendency fandoms in general have - which I hate - that thinks anti-rape activism looks like focusing explicitly just on the rapists and vilifying them while leaving their actual survivors to be treated as focal afterthoughts, all of which I find to be SUPREMELY counter productive. And there's not a lot of nuance paid to how both Mirage & Tarantula - much like Morrison's take on Talia - feeds into & perpetuates racist tropes like 'the exoticized predatory woman of color,' which leads to a lot of pro-Dick Grayson/'men can be raped too' sentiments being used just as a justification for writers & readers to have an excuse to write characters like Jason torturing and murdering women of color in the name of defending Dick's honor or whatever. And I really can't express how much I hate that either.

All of this is just to say......be very careful with fanon takes & interactions with BOTH the Tarantula and Mirage storylines, and please always be mindful of the lens through which you scrutinize these stories and takes on these stories.

I've written about both storylines and my takes on fanon tropes about them many times over the years (full disclosure, I'm a male rape survivor so my stances on this subject are very much biased and not remotely inclined to pretend otherwise, lol) and you can probably find a lot of posts about them by searching my blog for the relevant character names, but here's my big go-to post on the Mirage situation and fallout, in which I tried to back up all my viewpoints with canon sourcing. Its definitely long, but aimed at being as thorough as I could make it.

[ternfic]

Penance

Chapter Fifteen: All Is Hell That Ends Well

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Lucy remarked as Good Cop handed Vitruvius back his staff. He simply smiled at her before moving to check on Sirius.

Benny dropped what was left of the crowbar and threw himself at Bad Cop. The officer grunted as the action put uncomfortable pressure on some of his injuries, but he wrapped his arms around the spaceman nonetheless, holding him tightly.

“I was so scared I was gonna lose you,” Benny murmured into his shirt, clinging to him. “When I heard Alastar scream, and then that laugh… It all came flooding back, and all I could think was ‘I gotta get to B’.”

“For a while there, I thought you were going to lose me too,” Bad Cop admitted. He pressed a kiss to Benny’s head. “But I’m still here, Bluebird, and I have no intention of going anywhere for a long time.”

“Unikitty, do you think you could come heal Sirius before he passes out on us?” Good Cop called out to her.

“I can try,” she answered, padding over to them. “I don’t have much energy left, I kinda used a lot in that fight and putting Metalbeard back together… But I think I can get the worst of it, at least.”

“I may have to stop adventuring with you all,” Sirius murmured. “So far I’m two for two on being seriously hurt… Heh, Siriusly hurt…” He giggled until he snorted. “Ow, it hurts to laugh…”

Good Cop smiled. “I think you’ll be just fine, if you’re capable of making bad jokes.”

“Oh…” He relaxed as Unikitty leaned over him, her horn glowing softly, and the worst of his wounds began to knit themselves back together. “Thank you, that’s much better…” Unikitty only hummed in response before the glow sputtered out, and she sat down, hard.

“Ooh, I feel dizzy now…”

“You did good, ‘Kitty,” Good Cop praised, reaching over to gently stroke her head.

“Oh baby, your poor face,” Lucy crooned as she inspected Emmet’s cut. “That’s definitely going to need stitches. But it should heal without much scarring.”

He attempted to smile, and flinched at the pain it caused. “Hey, at least my face won’t be so generic anymore, right?” he joked.

“Emmet,” she sighed. “I love your face, now shush. Bruce, are you alright?”

“It’s nothing an ice pack won’t fix, the armor took the worst of it.”

“Dick, you’re not hurt, are you?”

“I-I’m fine,” the boy sniffled.

“Hey. Blue.”

Benny glanced up as Bruce approached him. “Yeah? -Ow!” he yelped as Bruce swatted him upside the head.

“Don’t swear in front of my kid.”

“Oh. Right. Uh.” He gave Dick an apologetic grin. “Forget you heard that, yeah?” Dick giggled softly.

Keelan finally managed to peel himself away from Metalbeard's side, and tottered his way over to Good Cop, clinging to his brother. “Shh,” Good Cop soothed, holding him close. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m s-sorry- I tried-”

“I know you did your best,” Good Cop shushed him.

“Are you hurt really bad?” Benny asked, taking in the way Bad Cop was shifting uncomfortably, and realized he was probably putting some painful pressure on his injuries with his tight grip. He relaxed his arms.

“It’s fine, Ben. They’ll heal. Are you okay?”

“The thing with the Ringmaster?” Bad Cop nodded. “I… honestly don’t know, B. That was a whole can of worms I wasn’t prepared for. But I’m glad he’s finally been dealt with.” He paused in realization. “Oh stars. You guys are- are you going to be okay like this?! This isn’t gonna be June all over again, is it??”

“…I don’t think we thought that far ahead,” Good Cop admitted, eyes wide.

“You’re stable, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vitruvius answered. “He was thorough in that, at least.”

“But can this be fixed?” Bad Cop pressed. “Just because we can function separately doesn’t mean we want to. I don’t, at any rate. Once was enough.” Good Cop nodded in agreement.

“Certainly. Benny, would you mind letting go of him?” Benny backed off as requested. “Alright, I need the three of you to stand together- yes, just like that. Ready?” At their nod he pointed his staff at them and began to chant. The spell had just barely begun to work when Keelan started screaming, clutching at his hair.

“StopstopSTOP!” Good Cop shouted, and Vitruvius broke off the spell, staring in surprise. “Oh God. Keelan? Come on, buddy, look at me, it’s okay-”

“No more pe-people in my head, please!” Keelan wailed. “I can’t, I can’t!” The cops looked devastated at his distress.

“Not even us…?” Good Cop pried, and Keelan shook his head.

“I’m- I’m s-sorry-”

“Shh,” Good Cop soothed. “You are hardly at fault for this, Keelan, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

Bad Cop looked back at Vitruvius. “Is there any way you can just merge me and Alastar back together?”

“There might be,” the wizard allowed, “but I don’t know it. I’ll have to do some research- and there’s no way I’ll be able to perfect it before tonight’s over. It’ll have to wait until next Halloween before I can use it on you.”

Bad Cop sighed, sharing a look with Good Cop. “I guess we’ll just have to get used to this, then.” Keelan looked horrified at the thought.

“No! D-don’t, I can- I can do this- Vitruvius, don’t make them-”

“Keelan, this is our choice,” Bad Cop interrupted. “Forcing you back into sharing headspace with us is only going to hurt you worse. I swore I’d protect you, didn’t I?” He ruffled Keelan’s hair. “If this is what it takes to make sure you can recover, then I’ll do it.” Keelan smoothed his hair back down and moved to give Bad Cop a hug. “Besides, you deserve a chance to explore and do your own thing, even if it’s only for a while. We know you don’t have much interest in being a cop like us.”

“You’re sure?”

“We’re sure,” Good Cop answered.

“Okay…”

“Vitruvius,” Good Cop said, “what about a- a sort of empathic bond? That way we’ll still sort of be able to communicate in a manner we’re used to? Is that okay, Keelan?” Keelan nodded.

Vitruvius smiled. “I can do that.”

The first thing they did, upon being released from the hospital, was crowd The Coffee Chain. Skip, the ever-chipper afternoon barista, took one look at the lot of them and shoved a full tray of donuts at them. “On the house,” she told them. “I won’t ask what happened, but man, you guys look like you’ve been through hell. Good to see you again, though. Larry says you haven’t been around for a while.”

“Ye sure that be alright, lass?”

She waved them off. “I got you covered, you guys go chill. I’ll have your drinks ready in a few.”

They shuffled their way to the back, grabbing a table and some chairs along the way to accommodate the addition of two more to the headcount. They squeezed in together, taking care not to jostle each other’s hurts.  Benny refused to let go of Cary.

“You guys think you’ll be okay?” Unikitty asked, looking worried.

“I don’t know,” Sirius admitted. “I have a feeling I’m going to be having nightmares for a very long time.”

“I think most of us will be,” Benny sighed. “But you know you don’t have to deal with it all by yourself, right?” Sirius frowned at him. Benny frowned back. “Alright, I know we’ve been kinda remiss in keeping in touch lately, but I’m serious. You can reach out to us at any time.”

Good Cop nodded. “You’ve always been bad for bottling things up and not dealing with them, and then things like Takos Tuesday happen. If something is upsetting you, then please, talk to us. Shoot one of us a text, or call, or heck, drop by unannounced, I don’t mind. But don’t ever think that we don’t care.” He gently squeezed Sirius’ good shoulder. “Because we do.”

Emmet nodded emphatically. “I’m sorry I haven’t been doing a better job of checking in with you. I know what it’s like, feeling like nobody cares you exist- and back then, it was pretty much the truth. Work and school shouldn’t be more important that my friend’s well-being…”

Sirius quirked a smile at him. “Thanks. And… I’ll try to keep that in mind. I guess I’m still getting used to the idea that I have friends now.”

“You have family now,” Dick corrected, swinging his feet. “And family means we’ve always got your back.” He looked up at Bruce. “Right?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

[itlearns]

 “...Because you’re so God damn perfect and you know everything and have everything under control and…”

“Under control?” Mitsurugi snaps back. “I’ve been trained to do this for as long as I remember myself and you just decided to appear here out of nowhere and immediately got to the same position that I tried to get to for years. And you just improvise! I’m nothing in the courtroom without a thorough plan and you- You have no idea what are you doing, do you? I swear to God you just walk up there and tell the jury the first thing to come to your mind. And you look so… effortless. Do you know how much work I have to do to predict everything you might say so I wouldn’t look absolutely pathetic while you stand there with this perfect-bright-million-dollars smile of yours? I haven’t won a single case against you since then! And I have nothing except this job. None of your… Found family bullshit or whatever it is you have going on. You make my entire life look like a joke!”

“I’ve spent six fucking years in law school just so I could see your angsty ass again and you think your life looks like a joke?”

         Mitsurugi stops just for a moment and that is enough for Ryuuichi to strike back.

“And you know what? I DO have no idea what I’m doing. It hasn’t been a day in nine years that I haven’t thought of quitting all that. But then I see you and… and I…”

 “Don’t. Do not.” Mitsurugi growls, way louder than he usually does, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “God, why you just have to make it more difficult than it already is”.

“Oh, I’m the one making it difficult? I thought you died!”

         Reiji looks taken aback for a moment, when opens his mouth to say something, but Ryuuichi’s already too deep in it to stop. He would probably shut up if he looked at Mitsurugi’s face, but he does not. Does not want to look.  

“You literally left a note about choosing death and I really, really thought I lost you for good this time! And it’s been more than a YEAR. I’ve mourned and I… tried to move on and I had to carry one with my life and NOW you just decide to appear and act like this whole year haven’t even happened?!”

         A pause takes place.

         “Why did you care?”

         Naruhodou opens his mouth to tell him to go fuck himself and closes it instantly. It’s too much of a change of pace. Mitsurugi looks genuinely confused.

“What the hell does that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t I care?”

“I have seemed too misjudge… your perception of the… situation”. Mitsurugi frowns, looking down.

“Oh, please leave the fancy words for someone else”.

Reiji sighs.

“We- Me and Franziska, we ran away sometimes. When it has gotten… too much. We would have to come back, of course. He knew we would. We would get hungry eventually. Returning meant admitting you have wronged the family and all you could do was just working twice as hard. No one said anything about it out loud, of course. I… didn’t expect you to… Take my depart seriously.”

Silence falls once again.

“I… want to punch you in the face so much”, Ryuuichi says, finally. It’s an absolutely sincere statement.

“It would be… well deserved”, Mitsurugi answers really seriously and firmly, closing his eyes and taking his glasses of, his eyelashes quivering a little.

Ryuuichi panics. He wasn’t really going to hit anyone. Definitely not Reiji. Definitely not in his stupidly precious face.

Ryuuichi leans forward, takes his hand in his and kisses Mitsurugi. Mitsurugi shudders with his whole body. It’s just a couple of moments. He barely responds. When Naruhodou leans back to look at him, he looks… Defeated. Not like he usually does. He does not look angry, nor frustrated, just… Lost. Hurt. Sad. His empty stare directed past Ryuuichi. His hand still clenches Ryuuichis’.

“Do you wanna know the thing I hate the most in all that?” Naruhodou says, “No matter for how long I’m away from you and no matter how much it hurts me, every time I get to see you again it makes me so happy I feel like an idiot. And it turns out that everything was worth it. Every time I think I’ve managed to move on and then… I’m so glad to have you back, Reiji.”

Mitsurugi manages to raise his gaze to meet Ryuuichis’. That’s the moment he realizes he’s been gripping his hand so hard it probably hurt and lets go so fast as if it burnt him, clenching his hand into a fist, pressing to his chest.

“I… would return eventually anyway. I don’t have anyone else to be with”.

“That’s a very roundabout way to say ‘I’m glad to be back with you too’”, Ryuuichi smiles with his perfect-bright-million-dollars smile. Reiji Mitsurugi capitulates. Reiji Mitsurugi won’t win a single case against that smile. 

[kotamagic]

Glad that in this week's Lore Olympus, no one is a complete idiot...

That's real nice of Hera to consider this important matter, but there is the VERY pressing matter of "We're not done dealing with Kronos just yet."

Good on H&P to go in this direction. Remember that lovely dream Hades was having before Persephone had to wake him? Hera's were likely nothing that nice, but they could provide answers, so, worth asking.

Oo, this one's still a bit touchy...

Minthe tried to use knowledge of Hades' and Hera's very ancient relationship to make a mess for Persephone. Thankfully, Hades was very forward and thorough with his explanation that said relationship was over.

Still, using the old pet name likely stirred up old thoughts and emotions. Not a great idea, dude.

Hera jumping right back to the coronation conversation is suspicious. While it IS a matter of great importance, as stated earlier, it needs to wait.

YES! THANK YOU for noticing that, Persephone! And you know what?

...you weren't fucking wrong!

How long has Kronos been mentally torturing Hera? Gods only know...

The fact that Hera is trying to hide the torture is disturbing (albeit understandable) and definitely dangerous. Hopefully, Hera will come forward about it when she's ready, but at least Persephone picked up on the bad vibes.

So this is an interesting plot line. Apollo dropping a pen/flash drive? Maybe he is getting sloppy about his secrets, or maybe he WANTED someone to find it. If he did want someone to find it, I'd be concerned about viruses!

Maybe see what kind of shady shit that asshole is up to next in his grand scheme for power?

I'll admit, it's been a while since I delved into canon Greek mythology. I do not remember who Kassandra is, but I definitely know I have heard the name before. THE PLOT THICKENS!

(Once again, thank you for coming to my LO post!)