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baxteravenue · 8 months

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HOW TO FAKE IT

pt ii.

summary: when jack and yours management team come together to create a perfect pr relationship you and jack must do your best to keep it as professional as possible... but when you have to spend a year together the lines between real and fake can become a little blurry.

STAGE ONE: Planting The Seed

You could feel the goosebumps rise against your skin as you sat in the cold conference room watching as your manager spoke with a shorter woman, before pointing back at you. You looked away scrolling back on your phone. You knew why you were here, you didn’t really agree to it but he was on a roll in his career right now and he didn’t need anything stopping it soon which is where you came in.

You were an up and coming singer, you were happy with your fans. You weren't the biggest but you had no complaints. You understood why they wanted this for you, why your label was going out of its way to make you the next Taylor Swift or Ariana Grande. You just didn’t understand why it had to be this way.

“Y/N…” Your manager taps at you making you lift up your head, next to her stands Jack Harlow. “This is Jack, I’m gonna leave you two here to get to know each other and stuff while me and Neelam discuss some stuff.”

You nod, giving her a small smile as she walks out. The room feels warm now, and you can sense the sweat building at the bottom of your back.

“Hi.” Jack says from across the table, he decides to make the first move.

“Hi.” You respond.

It doesn’t last long because it’s quiet again and awkward, very awkward.

“Look, I think we should talk and like discuss some things… we are gonna be dating I guess.” Jack rubs at the back of his neck and for the first time you can tell that he is nervous as well.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” You ask.

He leans over, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well first of all are you okay with all of this? I don’t want to do this if you’re not okay with it.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “This was your idea?”

“What? No.” He shakes his head, “But I’m not against it. I want a Grammy Y/N and there's… Look, let's just say that some people don’t want me to have one. I’m sure you want one too.”

You did. It was one of your biggest dreams but in order for that to happen you had to do something about it, and the industry was cut throat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Jack smiled.

“Yes, fine.”

He nodded, “I like your music by the way.”

You laughed. “Yours isn't too bad either.”

Your manager came back into the room as the two of you were in conversation, coming up with things you wanted to do and didn’t.

“Ready to do this?”

You and Jack looked at each other, before nodding.

Within the next week the four of you had multiple upon multiple meetings coming up with terms and conditions that both you and Jack would be fine with.

“And one last thing, no one can know. Only the four of us,” Your manager starts looking over at Neelam who continues.

“Not even Urban Jack, no one. To everyone else outside this room the two of you are a real couple and you must act that way.”

You and Jack sign for a year, enough time to get some exposure on his new album that revolves around love rather than his usual fuck boy persona, and so that the audience can put a face to the alluded person and so that you can kickstart a long and accomplishing career.

You spend the first few weeks slowly getting used to each other. He follows you on Instagram and you follow back maybe two people notice but you don’t get a huge reaction besides a random account getting excited that two of her favorite artists follow each other.

The two of you are steady with texting about random things, wanting to at least become friends before things get more serious for the public eye. Within a month you’re flying out to Louisville to stay with him for a bit.

“How do you like it so far?” Jack asks as the two of you eat ice cream in his apartment.

You take the spoon that was full of chocolate ice cream out of your mouth, “Louisville or this situation?” You blubber through the coldness.

“Both.”

“I don’t think we’ve gotten far enough for me to really feel a certain way, but I haven’t been called any degrading names on the internet so I think it’s fine?” You shrug, “And I haven’t seen much of Atlanta besides your guest room and the Whole Foods down the block.”

“Let’s do something then?” Jack looked over at you.

“Can we?”

“I don’t see why not? It’s already been a month, a little sighting wouldn’t be too bad.” Jack sits up, “Plus there's a place I really want to show you.”

The place Jack wanted to show you was only just a five minute walk around his apartment complex. A park right under a highway that overlooked a river. The moon twinkled over the water, it was really pretty.

You looked up at Jack, “Do you come here a lot?”

Jack adjusted his hoodie, shrugging. “Not really. Not these days at least.”

“It’s pretty, and close. I think I'd be here a lot.”

Jack looked at you, “I’m headlining a festival they have here in a few months.”

“Really? That’s so fucking cool!” You smile at him.

“It’s pretty nuts, I remember sneaking into it and then when I first got my slot to perform at the smallest stage with a small crowd of mostly people that knew me from high school– Feels unreal still.”

You nod, “I can’t wait to experience that… Don’t get me wrong I love my little fan base so much and I love playing intimate shows where I can really connect with my audience but I also want to experience a crowd so big I can’t even see where it ends.” You nod.

Jack puts his arm around you, bringing you in closer to him and your heart jumps a little surprisingly, “If this goes as planned I'm sure you will.”

“Oh my god, Jack Harlow!”

And suddenly him wrapping his arm around you makes sense.

JACKHARLOWUPDATES: Jack is currently back home in Louisville!

JACKHARLOWFAN: he looks so cutie in that picture

STACYGREENE5: hey! that’s me, he was so sweet even if i was acting a bit crazy lol!

GAZEBOSTAN: why was he by himself at the waterfront?!

STACYGREENE5: he wasn’t! he was with a girl… i’m pretty sure they’re dating bc he had his arm around her!

JACKHARLOWUPDATED: Jack and Y/N in Louisville tonight!

USERNAME: wtf

USERNAME1: This is so random

JACKMANTWTAS: Y/N is credited as a writer on multiple albums, including Mac Miller, so I’m sure they’re working on something together.

USERNAME: if it’s true, i’m sure this will be his best album bc she helped mac with swimming when she was only 17

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n

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sgiandubh · 6 months

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Hello how are you? I follow several shippers' blogs and I noticed that every now and then some bloggers publish hateful messages they received. My question is about mental health: how do you deal with it? I understand that your presence here is relatively recent, but have you ever regretted something?

Dear Mental Health Anon,

This is the kind of submissions I welcome with all my heart, because they are benevolent and witty. Forgive me already for what I suspect will be a long answer. It is not the pleasure of hearing me talk that prompts them, but the sincere intention to answer deserving asks as clearly, fully and honestly as I can.

The short answer is : I am fine, Fall is slowly coming and nights are starting to be really chilly. There's some light rain tapping on the roof of my flat and I will spend my week-end wandering around some of my favorite places on Earth. And now, onwards to the consistent and interesting ask of yours...

The worst trolling message I have ever seen in this fandom is the one I am immediately going to post below, because I think it should serve us all as warning and reminder. It was posted on a blog I have been reading from the beginning of my long lurking days on Tumblr: @cb4tb is one of the most balanced and articulate people in this corner of the Internet. I remember being shocked by its cold and very coherent violence. The feat of a casebook sociopath, who thinks her asks in Spanish (I am 200% certain about it) and who has an appalling command of English grammar. Written on Christmas' Eve and on purpose:

Compared to the alarming slander @cb4tb got (whatever for is a mystery, she is non conflictual and posts very witty business insights) on a day that should be completely taboo for every civilized human being (you don't need to believe in God to respect one of Christianity's most important celebrations), whatever hate I could get in here is definitely subpar. Most of it did not make it on my page and went straight to the bin. But it's not always easy: I am as human as you, Anon, and sometimes I feel personally insulted and revolted by the smugness and pettiness of it all. However, I must immediately add their hate never made me give up an inch of my convictions. They are the result of a long interval of watching and pondering, coupled with my own observations I gladly share with like-minded women all around the world. That often hits a nerve or bruises overinflated egos on the Other Side. So be it: I am not here to be meek and obedient, if I never was meek and obedient in real life. I am here to bring clarity and build trust, which incidentally resonates very closely to what I do for a living. That probably rates me as a moderate on the shipper spectrum, in the sense that by complete design I put aside some divisive topics I firmly chose not to discuss. I am not interested to bring attention on me, in here, and the least thing I'd like is to be a vector of discord. So that would also rate me as a peacemaker of sorts - and yes, that sounds perhaps pretentious, but I believe it is needed, especially now.

I only felt a clear intention to threaten me twice, both in DM. The first time it curiously came from one extreme fringe of the shipper community and I brushed it off, because it was an empty, almost ridiculous threat. I politely denied and that was it - two persons blocked me and there were no other consequences to it. The second time, an anti came to confront me on an irrelevant point, with a very aggressive undertone. I blocked and almost forgot about it. If you have it clear enough in your mind that such things cannot be avoided and, at the same time, you know that your own moral compass is not compromised, these details will not affect you. At all. I confidently promise you that. Last but not least: if you are not great with compartmentalizing, don't step in the arena. It can seriously ruffle your self-esteem and it's not worth it.

So this is how I deal with it: I focus on what I have to say (does it bring something new? interesting? positive? thought-provoking?), on the way of saying it (above all, be kind and gracious to every other shipper) and on the right moment to say it (only when I am honestly sure I can do it with no unwanted consequences). But I will stand in solidarity with any shipper (any single one of them) who is humiliated, belittled or disparaged, with not a single shred of fear in the world. And I would also fend for myself if necessary, if I am getting over-the-top slander: all the other yapping, I ignore. Sometimes (often, even) it's more interesting to watch.

And if anything else fails, I go for a long drive and have a coffee at the seaside or simply open a book or listen to some Bach or call Someone. Or take this little big guy out for a lazy walk in the park:

You ask me if I regret anything. Absolutely not. I have received more than I could ever give, in here. I have met spectacular women and men, I have grown very fond of and feel very close to. I have had the immense satisfaction of sharing their secrets, their worries, their plans and this means trust, in my book, for which I will never tire saying how grateful I am. I also strived to respond in kind and I mean to honor this unwritten contract. Last but not least, I have watched this community slowly dusting off months of sadness and perhaps starting to open up again.

And all of this makes me damn proud of who we are, Anon. Thank you for dropping by! You are always welcome on my page.

#Anon

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longbobmckenzie · 9 months

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Choose Me - Roberto/MC

Summary:

Roberto just wants this Stick or Twist ceremony to be over so he can leave the villa, like he should have done the night his girl was dumped. But sometimes, things have a way of working themselves out…

Rating: Teen

Words: 2,440

Read on AO3

(or read under the cut!)

Roberto runs a hand over his weary face as he takes his seat on the bench around the fire pit. The glow of the flickering flames should give him a sense of warmth, but he’s been cold ever since a few nights earlier, when he watched his girl walk out of the villa.

Andi.

God, he was an idiot not to walk out right then and there. But the boys convinced him to give it a day or two first, to make sure his feelings were real. After all, they’ve only known each other a couple weeks, and they live in different countries, for chrissakes. He would be crazy to chase after her, wouldn’t he? Things on the outside aren’t the same as things in the villa, or so the boys said. But being without her only confirmed what he’s known all along, since the night he first laid eyes on her — she’s the one for him.

But then the girls were swept off to Casa Amor, and a new set of girls came in. The guys encouraged him to get to know them, but it didn’t feel right. None of it did. The villa lost its lustre when Andi left. Even the neon beanbag chairs and cheeky sayings posted around the place seemed to have dulled overnight. But he could hardly leave the show in the middle of Casa Amor, without saying a proper goodbye to the original girls. They’re his friends too, and Bella in particular would never forgive him if he walked before she could give him another sock in the arm or ruffle his hair.

The corners of his lips tip up just a little at the thought of that blue-haired firecracker. The two of them became fast friends, and he can’t wait to see her again. There’s never been anything romantic between them and never will be, but his Love Island experience wouldn’t be the same without her.

He just hopes she found someone in Casa Amor. He’s banking on it, actually — because if she couples up, then he’ll be single. And if he’s single, then… well, maybe, hopefully, he’ll be dumped. Either way, he’s planning to leave at the first opportunity to go find his girl, but he wants to make sure Bella’s taken care of first. He doesn’t want to risk leaving her vulnerable.

Finally, the host walks in and does her spiel, and the ceremony begins. Ozzy is the first to rise to his feet, and it comes as no surprise when he says he’s sticking with Grace. Roberto shakes his head in annoyance, making a tutting sound. It’s no secret that Ozzy had a thing for Andi, and now without her in the picture, he’s falling back on Grace, knowing how much the girl is obsessed with him. But as much as Grace has been wilfully blind to all of it, Roberto can’t help but think she deserves better. She might be coupled up with him, but she’s clearly Ozzy’s second choice.

Grace comes in alone and flings herself into his arms, and Roberto rolls his eyes as he pretends to clap along. There’s a brief moment when some doofus from Casa Amor storms in and yells at Grace about something or other, but security is quick to drag him back into the villa, leaving Grace flustered and embarrassed and Ozzy confused and not a little like he’s been made to look like a mug.

Fuckin’ deserves it.

Then Lewie gets up and makes a speech about going with the flow, which causes a few titters and giggles around the fire pit as a blue-eyed blonde steps forward from the row of Casa girls. The two of them are a perfect match, and they’ll have perfect blonde, blue-eyed babies.

And then Roberto thinks he’s dreaming, because that’s Andi walking towards him, on the arm of—wait, no. He gives his head a shake and looks at her again. The woman walking in may share the same face as his girl, but she wears her hair a little longer and wavier, her nose isn’t pierced, and her lips have a way of twisting into an ugly smirk that Andi isn’t capable of. It’s Amelia, her twin.

He lifts a curious eyebrow as he takes in the man she’s with, barely stifling the bubble of laughter that almost courses out of him. Of course Amelia would couple up with the carbon copy of Ozzy, although this guy has longer hair, a beard, and a few tattoos peeking out from under his clothing. And judging by the look on Ozzy’s face, he’s not so happy to see his dear brother. Which tracks, considering he never even told the guys that his brother is actually his twin.

The two of them exchange a few tense words before Amelia leads Marshall to an open space on the opposite side of the bench, throwing a jealous look in Flo’s direction.

And then it’s Roberto’s turn.

He wipes the moisture from his palms and takes a deep breath as he rises to his feet, gazing around at all the familiar faces. This isn’t his goodbye speech, not quite yet, but it’s still the final time he’s going to be doing one of these recouplings. He might actually miss it.

The host gives him a nod, and he clears his throat. “As you all know, the last few days have been… well.” He throws a sheepish look towards Ivy and the other two girls who were sent in to tempt them, whose names he never even bothered to learn, giving them an apologetic smile. “My mind and my heart have both been elsewhere, so I’ve been pretty poor company. I’m usually a lot of fun, I promise.”

There’s a chorus of muffled laughter around the fire pit.

“Although I’m technically coupled up with Bella—” A hard glance towards Elliot makes the other man flush “—there’s been another girl on my mind, and these last few days have given me all the clarity I need to go after what I want. I hope Bella found someone while she was away, but I have to do what’s right for myself, and that’s to stick.”

The host smiles softly. “Alright, let’s see what Bella decided to do.”

All eyes turn towards the villa. Roberto doesn’t know why his heart is pounding, but it is, until finally his partner appears — holding hands with someone else.

He lets out a sigh of relief, and a wide smile crosses his face. When she catches his eye, she beams at him, as if she’s as happy to see that he’s standing there alone as he is to see that she’s twisted to someone new.

When they reach the fire pit, she stands next to the host, but all she can look at is him, her eyes sparkling with joy and excitement — and a hint of mischievousness. He knows that look well, the look that says that she knows something he doesn’t. But what could it possibly mean?

The host asks her a few questions, and Roberto learns that the new guy’s name is Andy — which makes him chuckle a little even as a pang goes through him at the reminder of his Andi. He seems nice, and he’s looking at Bella like she hung the moon, so Roberto couldn’t be happier for her. They come over and he gives Bella one of his biggest hugs, Andy a firm handshake, and then they all sit down together.

“Turns out we both have a thing for Andis,” he whispers to Bella, making her giggle as Elliot stands up. “I’m so happy you found someone.”

“I’m so happy you didn’t,” she replies, that twinkle reappearing in her eye, though it’s replaced by a flash of worry as her mouth quivers. “I almost didn’t switch, you know. To keep you safe.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I… Bella, you know there’s no one else for me. If I can’t have Andi, then I don’t mind getting dumped.”

The worry disappears, the sparkle beaming even brighter, and she covers his hand with one of hers, giving it a squeeze as they both turn to watch Ivy cross the fire pit towards Elliot, looking like the cat who’s caught the canary.

Bella sighs. “I knew he’d switch.”

Roberto shrugs. “He kinda had to, didn’t he? Andi’s gone, so he’s single.”

She looks like she’s about to say something, only to quickly snap her mouth shut. He narrows his eyes, wondering why she’s acting funny.

The host starts speaking again, and he’s fully expecting her to end the proceedings and say her goodbyes, but what she says instead stops him in his tracks.

“Before I let you all go, I have one more surprise for you.” She looks at Elliot, then at Roberto, before turning to look towards the villa.

Roberto is bewildered. What’s going on? The rest of the boys are just as confused as he is, but the girls are all beaming at him. But what for? His palms begin to sweat, his heart pounding faster in his chest, and then he hears them.

Footsteps.

His breath catches in his throat as his eyes lock onto the space where the other girls have appeared. Is it another new Islander? Already? Or is it—

Andi. His Andi.

There she is, like a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. Her eyes meet his and they light up bright, filling the villa with vibrant colour again. The air whooshes out of his lungs, and he’s on his feet, his knees wobbling beneath him.

But then his vision blurs, starting at the edges, and his heart squeezes in his chest. Of course, she’s just a mirage. This isn’t real; none of it is. He’s sleeping, and any moment now he’ll wake up to find himself on the daybeds, having napped the afternoon away. And then he’ll have to do it all over again, going through the motions of getting ready for the evening and then watching everyone recouple while he wishes he’d walked out days earlier.

“Roberto.”

It even sounds just like her. Warm hands cup his cheeks, which he realizes are wet with his tears. A soft, gentle laugh that makes him squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to return to those blissful moments with her.

“Roberto, it’s me.”

He’s scared to open his eyes, but he does it anyway, and she’s standing in front of him, tears streaking down her own face, but she’s smiling. God, he loves her smile, and he can’t help but mirror it.

“Pinch me.”

Instead, she presses her lips to his, salty tears mixing with the sweet strawberry flavour of the lip gloss she always wears, and he crumbles. His arms slide around her waist, just as much to give himself something to lean on as to bring her closer to him.

“Is it really you?” He can still scarcely believe it, but she tastes and feels so real.

Andi nods, her eyes glowing with the happiness that he feels. “C’mon,” she says, threading her fingers through his and leading him to the bench, where Bella and Andy scooch over to make room.

The host is talking again, but Roberto doesn’t catch a word. He’s too busy staring at Andi, unable to believe his luck. She’s back. He has no idea what she’s doing there, but she’s back.

She squeezes his hand, and he snaps to attention. “She just asked us something, hun.”

He looks back over at the host. “Sorry, could you repeat…?”

The host smiles. “I have a feeling I already know the answer to this, but… as you and Andi are both single, you now have the option to couple up with each other, or to stay single and vulnerable.”

“Fuck yes!” he exclaims with a fist pump, before turning to Andi and smashing his lips against hers. She lets out a squeal before melting into it, wrapping her arms around him.

The ceremony ends, the host leaves, and one by one, the other couples wander off to do their own thing, leaving Roberto and Andi to themselves.

“How are you here?” he asks breathlessly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and letting his hand linger. He can’t stop touching her, he hasn’t stopped touching her since she walked in.

“I wasn’t actually dumped. I was sent to Casa Amor early.”

“What?”

“I know! It was so dumb. Supposedly I got the most votes, not the least.”

Roberto smiles, his heart swelling with pride for his girl. “That tracks. Not that I’m happy about you being in Casa Amor with four new boys all to yourself.”

“It was a waste of a plot twist, really,” Andi replies with a shrug. “The guys were nice enough, but none of them were you.”

“Phew.” He wipes his forehead, laughing. “I might’ve been in trouble if they were.”

She laughs, and his heartbeat quickens. Oh, how he’s missed that sound.

“You had to know Elliot would switch, though, right? He thought you were gone. You knew you’d be left single.”

“Bella was worried about leaving you single too, but I encouraged her to switch. She deserves a romantic couple, and Andy is great.”

“He seems nice.”

“He is! But we figured, well… If Elliot left me single, and Bella left you single, then at least we’d be single together.”

“Or dumped,” he points out.

“Apparently not.” Her thumb brushes over his skin where their hands are still laced together. “I can’t believe we got to couple up.”

“I would have left for you, you know. I was ready to pack my bags tonight if I needed to.”

“Well, thankfully you don’t need to.”

“Would that have been so bad? Getting dumped?” he asks. “I would leave right now with you by my side, if it meant never getting separated again.”

She gives him a soft smile, her eyes full of tenderness. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“We still could, you know. Leave. I already know I have everything I want.” He gives her hand a squeeze for emphasis. “I don’t need the rest of it.”

Andi shakes her head. “We can’t leave.”

“Why not? Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

The corner of her mouth turns up into a smirk, and she gazes across the villa before turning back to him, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“We can’t let Amelia win.”

Roberto’s head tilts back as he laughs. All his doubts immediately vanish — he’s not dreaming. This is real. This girl who he’s grown to know and—yes—even love is really back.

#litg #litg ff #litg fanfic #litg fanfiction #longbob writes #litg roberto #stick or twist fix-it

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azures-bazar · 1 year

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Hey was just wondering if you could do an Arthur x reader and Arthur being in the saloon and his wife is also there and the guys he’s with are teasing him about how single he is and Arthur’s like bet I can get the girl to leave with me and there like there is no way in hell that woman would leave with you but she’s his wife and Arthur downs his drink and walks up to his wife like hello gorgeous, how would you like to ride home on a real cowboy I got a six pack of cold ones and my roomie is out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to sugar and they walk out together and everyone’s gobs smacked and the readers like will you just stop and tell people I’m your wife and Arthur’s like nah I love the surprise on there faces when the see a beautiful woman like you wants to date me plz

Lonesome Pretty Boy

Hello there anon, and thank you for this request ! I wrote this shot by night (again), please don’t mind my awful mistakes ! I loved the plot btw !

I hope you'll like it ! I kinda struggled with the teasing lol

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader

Word count : 2.6k

Short summary : Sometimes, Arthur likes impressing folks around him, not usually being able to score with women. But tonight, this woman is you.

A/Note : set relationship - Arthur is married to Reader

Tags : chapter 2, Arthur being flirty af, Roger Clark’s intimate voice lines with horses inspiration, teasing, cute nicknames

Oh, finally ! Dutch had finally decided to give Arthur some sort of day off for him to relax ! Morgan did not get the chance to have a break for weeks, and Sean’s rescue party was just a very quick glimpse of what some rest and carelessness could feel like. Just a day off, away from the rest of the gang, away from chores, away from endless requests from Strauss or Grimshaw, from Swanson’s drunkenness, Uncle’s complaints about his lumbago… or Sean’s overall presence. Just one day off felt like an entire holiday for Arthur. You two headed to Smithfield’s saloon in Valentine, Arthur wanted to be with you, to enjoy his rare free time by your side. You had even chosen your best gown for this occasion !

You had been a member of the gang for a long while already. It felt like ages, especially since you could remember welcoming a teenage Mary-Beth and lend her your old clothes. Arthur’s relationship with had always been quite peculiar, to say the least. He had displayed evident signs of attraction since the very first day you stepped foot in camp, with Dutch firmly holding you by the shoulders. He had stumbled upon you as you were on your way to a prison, while a couple of "old rich degenerates", as he called them, were begging the sheriff to hang you. The cause of their complaints ? Ten dollars you had stolen from that old man’s pocket to buy yourself some food after not being able to eat anything but grass for days. Living in the streets was no easy thing, especially when you were a young woman at the mercy of these men surrounding you, whether they were good or bad.

Arthur had welcomed you wide-open arms, offering you one of his old mattresses and blankets for you not to be cold. He had willingly asked Dutch to watch over you and had spent a few weeks taking care of your wellbeing. He had watched you swallow Pearson’s stew in one go after starving for days, drink gallons of coffee, caress the new clothes Grimshaw had given you, enjoying its soft fabric after being mostly used to torn jeans and dirty shirts.

"It’s for me ?" you had asked

"Of course, dear." Grimshaw had chuckled. "We can get you more clothes if you like, I just need to tell Dutch."

"No, that's alright."

What made Arthur fall for you was most certainly the way you held yourself and your beautiful facial features he could not help but gaze at for endless minutes. He was not good at expressing his feelings, feeling awkward most of the time. But, after a few months, you felt like the two of you had known each other for years. A few kisses and many wild nights in bed after his very first move towards you, Arthur had proposed to you under a large oak tree… and you would have been a fool to say no to these beautiful puppy eyes and soft smile.

You had been married for months already, the gang was aware of it. People did not ask about what you were doing when Arthur’s tent flaps were closed, or why the two of you would not get straight back to camp after a successful robbery. You had been with Dutch during the Blackwater Ferry Heist and had nearly died while escaping the city, which led Arthur to become even more protective towards you, being awfully traumatised after watching you bleed from your numerous wounds. This was mostly why he wanted you to go to the saloon with him. He wanted to have you nearby, close enough for him to feel alright, to be sure you were safe.

"Take a seat, sweetheart." Arthur told you as you two walking into the saloon. "I’m gonna get us something to drink."

You sat at a nearby table while Arthur went to the counter to order some whiskey for the two of you, one shot for him, and a bottle to share with you. Three fellers were talking about women beside him, he found himself listening to their conversation. One of them was married and was proud enough to boast about it, while the other two kept lamenting on the overall absence of women in their lives. Indeed, after spotting Arthur so close to them, waiting alone at the counter for his whiskey, they quickly reacted.

"Hey you, pretty boy." one of them said

Arthur lifted his head up, glancing at these three men near him, frowning a little. He absolutely hated being called pretty boy, you were mostly the only person who could call him such… without him grumbling about it. Whenever you would mention his handsomeness, Arthur would quickly blush and attempt hiding his face by tilting his hat forward for you not to spot his reaction… and this was probably the most adorable thing he would do on a daily basis, along with smiling at you when you were getting dressed.

"Yeah, you, cowboy." that same man restarted. "No woman by your arm tonight ?"

"That ain't your business, partner." Arthur answered with a smirk

"Can’t be easy to be a lonesome pretty boy, ain’t it ?" the married man laughed. "With all these women around..."

"Them women are too great for a dusty cowboy." another one laughed. "You ain’t gonna get a nice catch tonight."

What this man told Arthur almost felt challenging, if not rather funny. He did not mind them telling him about all the dust covering him… it was somewhat true. Despite having washed himself earlier this evening, the ride to Valentine’s saloon did not help him staying clean, especially considering its muddy streets. Arthur approached these men while placing his hands on his gun belt. He was a few inches taller than them, but they did not mind.

"I’d get all ‘em women on a plate if I wanted." one of them smiled. "All of them."

"That’s why you still ain’t got a wife, Henry." the married man sighed

"Ain’t you a smart one, feller." Arthur sighed, patting so-called Henry’s shoulder. "Go get your chance with a prostitute, maybe you won’t finish your night alone."

"I bet you’ll do the same. Prostitutes are a better catch than a nice woman for a man like you."

Arthur’s eyes widened as he quickly glanced around, noticing you were still reading your book. He could remember Hosea offering it to you following Sean’s party, you could not take your eyes away from it. He laughed a little as these men started joking around, still not feeling comfortable about them teasing him. He looked at his whiskey-filled glass and sighed, turning his head back to those three men, ready to prove them wrong by getting a nice catch tonight.

"Well, ‘bet I can get that girl right here." Arthur said, pointing toward you

"That one ?" the married man asked, looking at you. "With the nice gown ?"

"No way." Henry laughed. "Look at her, she’s dressed so well ! She’s too good for you, you’re just a dusty cowboy."

"Let’s see that."

Arthur gulped down his whiskey in one go, carefully taking two glasses and another bottle to your table while smirking at the group of men nearby. It felt like a challenge, something fun to do. He could still hear them talk behind him, mostly excited and amazed by this sudden courage Arthur displayed. Had it been with another woman, Arthur would have remained alone all night long.

"Hello there gorgeous." he said in the most flirtatious way

"Arthur ?" you turned your head up as you noticed him leaning on one of the wooden columns near the table

"Would you like some whiskey ?"

"Sure."

Arthur did not dare sitting next to you, feeling that these three fellers laughing at the counter would spot his sham. One single mistake and this scam would be over. He handled you the glass, causing you to rise from your seat and stand beside him, gently placing your small book inside your leather satchel Pearson had crafted for you. Arthur kept smiling, tilting his hat a little as you blushed. He had never been this confident with you, despite the two of you were married for a while already !

"Ain’t you such a beauty, m’lady."

"Arthur, what’s going on ?"

"It’s a shame to see you alone tonight."

You raised your eyebrows, felling quite confused by his peculiar speech and overall attitude. You had known Arthur for a while to get to understand his psychology and flaws, noting his self-hate and disgust towards his appearance which was, for a vast majority of people, absolutely amazing. Everyone you met, aside from people who owed money to Strauss and who got beaten up by Arthur, for instance, genuinely thought he was a very handsome man, healthy and well-built, with a rather friendly face. Arthur never felt confident enough with anyone, and the night he had asked you out to propose to you almost felt like a miracle.

"Why are you acting like this ?" you asked. "Just… sit down, you’re making me nervous."

"Well, Miss, would you like a ride on a real cowboy ?" Arthur said, pouring some whiskey in your glass while looking straight into your eyes

"What ?"

"I've got a large box filled with cold beers at home, you know."

"Sorry ?"

Your eyes widened as you did not understand what was going on, and why Arthur was behaving the way he did. Riding on a cowboy ? What did he try to asl you ? You spent a few seconds trying to process the meaning of his sentence as Arthur bent over your shoulder and gently bit your earlobe, causing you to shiver. His breath so close to your skin made you feel great, but the way he just came to you like this was quite suspicious. Just like Jack behaving like an angel with Abigail in order to hide the truth after messing around, Arthur’s overall attitude at the moment made you feel like he was hiding something.

"Oh, and my housemate is out all night…" he whispered so intimately, causing you to smile a little, and leading men to suddenly stop talking

"Arthur." you chuckled. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

"Don’t worry, you’ll be able to scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar."

You chuckled louder after taking a sip of your whiskey. Arthur had tried many nicknames with you, but both "sugar" and "gorgeous" were the ones he had never used. In fact, Arthur mostly called you sweetheart or dove, believing these sweet nicknames were suiting you enough for him to nearly forget your real name at some point.

"So, gonna let me take home home ?" Arthur smirked.

"We’ve only been here for a few minutes !"

"This ain’t a place for us… we better go."

"But…-"

"Let’s go, sugar."

You gasped as you barely had time to place your empty glass on the table while Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the saloon while passing by the three men he had encountered that same night, looking at him with wide-open eyes. Their’s jaws dropped as they saw how beautiful you were, so gentle-looking under his large arm. Who would have thought you would be willing to go with him ? Common people did not know about the two of being actually married.

"And you said he’s just a dusty cowboy." one of them told Henry

"Damn it." the latter grumbled, swallowing his beer in one go

Arthur gently opened the saloon’s door to allow you to walk outside, you went downstairs, closer to his horse as you felt like you were about to get into an argument. This was his quiet evening, you knew Dutch would not allow him going out by night again, purposefully keeping him around on guard duty while you would be doing chores with the rest of the girls.

"What the hell was that ?" you grumbled, crossing your arms on your chest. "We barely had time to sit and enjoy our whiskey !"

"Sorry, err, ‘em men were teasin’, I told ‘em I was gonna get you."

"Gonna get me ? I’m your wife, damn it ! You already have me !"

You wanted to slap Arthur for his sudden lack of consideration towards your relationship but quickly avoided raising a hand towards his face by taking your book out and storing it in the horse’s satchel, not even bothering to look at Arthur. You hated when he was playing foolish games and your rather angry face led him to come closer to you, his hands behind his back.

"I’m sorry, darlin’." he sighed, genuinely sorry. "I… I just wanted ‘em fellers to see that even dusty cowboys can get women they want."

"You saw their reactions, right ? Tell them the truth."

"No, no. I ain’t gonna do that."

You turned back to look at Arthur who was smiling, despite begging you to forgive him for his foolish mistake of not telling these men the truth about himself right away. Arthur tilted his head a little, sending you one of his most pleading looks he usually gave you when he knew he had done something wrong.

"Will you just stop behaving like a kid ?" you snarled. "Now, you get back inside and tell them I’m your wife."

"Nah !" Arthur laughed. "I loved that surprise on ‘em faces when they saw that a beautiful woman like you is willin’ to go out with me."

"If you don’t tell them, I will."

"Don’t."

You really wanted to walk back inside the saloon to explain these three men that Arthur had lured them into a very believable lie, pretending that you were just a random stranger while being is actual wife. His blooming smile made you forget about your desire to get inside and break down his lie, his pleading look did not help one bit either !

"Please, Y/N ?" Arthur asked

"Fine." you groaned. "Now that we’re out of the saloon, what do we do ?"

"Well…"

Arthur moved slightly closer, gently placing his large hands on your corseted waist, causing you to blush unexpectedly. You were still somewhat mad at him for lying the way he did, but did not care much anymore. Whenever your eyes would meet his, you would be quick to forget about his flaws and crimes, mostly focusing on the positive aspects of your relationship.

"I can still get a large box of cold beers." Arthur smiled, giving you his eternal puppy glance. "And… since I don’t have any housemate, I believe a night at the hotel would be a great deal before comin’ back to camp tomorrow morning. Don’t you think ?"

"You’re hopeless, really." you sighed, unable to say no

"Ain’t that why you love me ?"

"Yeah…"

You loved him for who he was, but his childish side would always make you chuckle. In fact, you could not resist him at all, no matter what he was doing or how he was doing it. Arthur was everything to you and you knew that, despite this nice moment at the saloon being cut short by his rather boyish behaviour, you were going to spend a wonderful and probably sleepless night with him, going wild in one of the hotel’s bedrooms. Neither you nor him would look fresh tomorrow on guard duty, but did this matter ? You were about to spend a wonderful night without feeling the need to worry about the gang. The rest of the world did no longer matter as long as you would be with Arthur, husband or not. This night was going to be great, and you would probably laugh about it someday.

"Let’s go, Mrs. Morgan." Arthur smiled as you headed to the hotel

"I can still scream your name as loud as I need ?"

"You sure can. I even hope you will."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #chapter 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #azurestales #cute nicknames #you're a beautiful lady with a lonesome pretty boah #mrs morgan #my gifs

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gourdkeeper · 9 months

Note

I just had to message you once I saw how good your writing is!^^ (the Jamie brainrot is REAL and you're saving my sanity rn!)

Following on from your most recent fic about Jamie getting the wrong idea about reader and Luke hanging out together, MAYBE there could a scenario where Jamie is being hella sus about his phone (Spending longer than usual on it, hiding it, always leaving it facedown, never leaving it un attended or letting you see it etc) and reader eventually cracks and checks his phone whilst he is sleeping, and sees messages from another girl. They aren't down right incriminating but they are definitely a little flirty. Instead of confronting him about it, reader gives him the benefit of the doubt, until she catches him at a Restaurant with said girl.

More stuff happens, and there was some misunderstanding too, and some nsfw stuff happens ;D

Sorry its so long!

Sorry I took so long to get to this one anon! I didn't get to proofread so I'm so sorry if there's a type here and there 🙏 anyway, jealous fem!reader fic coming up.

Nsfw-ish at the end but nothing graphic happens

It was out of ordinary. Sure. Jamie never really was one to show his phone around or freely let others peek into it, he was reserved when it came to his privacy and there's nothing wrong with that. You respect it, the same way you hope he'll always respect yours.

However... It's been nagging you. You know it shouldn't, it's none of your business and you trust your boyfriend but... he's been acting strange. One time you've asked him to use his phone because yours ran out of battery and he rushed to close a bunch of notifications and apps before handing it over, while still keeping his sight on you. Looked almost antsy until you've given it back.

"Jamie, is everything ok?"

"Huh, yeah of course? What's the matter?" His face wasn't relieved, his brow was still furrowed with signs of worry.

"Nothing..."

You didn't snoop around, but you almost wish you did. There's gotta be something up.

The behaviour continues for the majority of the week. Phone always in his possession, not checking it in front of you. Screen down when it's on the table. It's driving you insane. What if. What if he's cheating on you?

He wouldn't. Would he?

Your head is spiraling. You can't stand the thought that he'd do something like that to you, it would break you. I mean. What would he even do that for? Surely he's had his fair share of people hitting on him before you were a couple so he wouldn't just settle down with a random chick. And he wouldn't just cheat with some flinging crush. But what if.

He's passed out on the couch. He drank too much during a brawl tonight and he's pretty much knocked out cold.

Surely it can't harm to clear your doubts...

You hate poking your nose into his business. It feels bad. Wrong. Betraying even.

But it doesn't stop your hands from moving on their own and opening his messaging app.

"Huh... That's a lot of messages." You're a bit incredulous. "Barbara" is her name and the texts feel so. Intimate. Not really intimate as in sexual but you can tell they're close. Almost flirty even but never crossing too far. She sent pictures of her outfit before and he replied with excitement, hyping her up. She was pretty. Tall. Blonde. Nice curves. Plump lips and sweet brown eyes. Probably the dream woman of a lot of people. She seemed funny too.

You could feel the jealousy set in. "Maybe they're just friends." You kept telling yourself in the back of your head. You decide not to jump to conclusions, there's nothing downright incriminatory here even if it definitely tugs at your heart strings.

You set the phone down, careful to leave it in the same position it was previously so he wouldn't realize you snooped.

---

A week later and the story repeats. Same odd behavior when it comes to his phone.

He gets a text while you're both on the couch.

"Who's that?" You ask, hoping that maybe he'll shed some light on it.

"Hm? Oh! Uh a friend, I haven't seem them in ages, I'm gonna meet with them tonight to catch up." His eyes seem to avoid you while talking.

"Oh like? From school?" You pry.

"Sort of. A childhood friend from when I first moved here."

Why is he so short with his answers and so damn vague. It's aggravating. You breath in and out.

"Hm... Alright." You let it go.

---

You've been seething and brewing in jealousy since he left. It's been an hour. You can't take it anymore and you get dresses to go out for a walk and cool your head down.

There's too many thoughts in your head and that might help.

When you step out of the appartment it's kinda chilly outside and you put on a thin jacket before closing and locking the door.

The streets are kind of empty. It looks like it's gonna rain. Whatever, you won't be out for long anyway.

Or so you thought.

As you passed the window of a busy bar your corner of your eye caught something and your legs instinctively stop you in your track.

That's Jamie. That's Jamie and his so called "friend", Barbara. They're together. A bit *too* together. Laughing. Drinking. Their eyes locked on each other.

---

"I can't believe YOU out of all people want to get married? When will I meet the unlucky girl?" Barbara says as Jamie punches her arm lightly.

"Stop it, you're making me look lame-" he rolls his eyes and takes another swig, "You'll meet her soon, I haven't really had her meet any friends or family yet. I don't know how to bring it up." His shoulder sulk. Truth is he never considered this before this relationship. The great Jamie Siu, settling down with a wife and a home? Pfft never. Except here he is, planning the life ahead of him.

"You just do it? It's not rocket science." She orders another drink as she kicks back the one she had in hand. "Have you even picked the ring already?"

Jamie pulls a small box out of his pocket. "It's right here." He gives it a small shake as he talks.

"Oh my god. Can I see it?"

---

Why is he being so secretive about this girl? What is he doing with her that you can't know about? Because right now it doesn't look good at all.

You storm in angrily through the front door and they both turn to see you. He looked mortified as he fumbled to shove something back into his pocket.

"B-babe! Hi- w-what are you doing here?" He jumps out of his seat to meet you halfway, keeping you away from his friend, afraid you might just punch her with how tense you look.

"I need to. No. I demand to know what the fuck is going on!" Everyone in the bar is staring. Jamie gulps down dry as he looks around as if looking for an answer that will save the situation.

"It's not what it looks like. I promise!"

That was probably the most cliche and worst thing he could have said on the spot. Your nose and upper lip twitch and you turn on your heel and leave throught the same door you came in.

Tears welling at your eyes. His answer told you just about everything that you needed to know. How could he? How could he do this to you?!

"Babe no wait-!" Jamie turns to his friend and motions that he'll be right back and rushes after you.

Once he gets to you he hold you by your arm and pulls.

"Let go of me."

Your voice sounds strained. Clearly holding back tears from rolling down your cheeks.

"Babe no please... Let me explain-"

You turn around to face him, "Explain what? Was I not good enough for the great Jamie Siu? Am I not hot enough? Not enough of a trophywife or something?"

He looks shocked. Hurt even. Regretting his mistakes about not being honest about his friend from the get go and letting you ferment in doubt.

It starts raining.

"That's not it. That will never be the case." He holds your hands. "Please come back in with me, you'll get sick out here."

"Jamie I don't care."

"But I do. I'm supposed to protect these streets, I'm not about to let the love of my life get sick out here." He has a gentle smile on his face, as if he's trying to break the tension.

"Who is she?" You ask bluntly.

"I told you. She's a childhood friend. One of the first people I've met outside of Hong Kong and China." His eyes look honest. Gazing at you. His hands reaching up to hold your face and caress your cheeks. "Please believe me... You're mine. And I am yours. Forever and always..."

The rain is now starting to pour. Soaking through your clothes and screwing up your hair.

"Why did you hide her from me then?" There's still a tinge of doubt in your voice.

"I was afraid you'd be jealous. I was stupid because clearly all I did was make it worse. I'm sorry."

Your head hangs. You feel stupid for thinking he'd betray you. Your anger feels more directed at yourself than him this time. The tears can no longer be held back. You feel embarrassed and so fucking stupid. Tears mixing with the rain droplets, your face puffing up and voice cracking.

"Jamie I'm so sorry- I- I-"

He holds you close to him, laying your head in his chest.

"It's okay, I'm the one who needs to apologize..."

"No, I- I looked through your phone when you were asleep and... And I thought you two were flirting or something and-"

He doesn't reply and just kisses the top of your head.

Shortly after you hear a voice.

"Hey maybe we can just hang out another day? All three of us. You should both go home."

It was her. She had a deep but kind voice.

"But-" Jamie's head whips back.

"Just go, I'll be in town the whole week anyway."

You look up at her with your hands slightly covering your face out of embarrassment. Damn she is really tall and pretty.

She gives you a sweet smile, "Don't worry I'm not interested in this douchebag, love." She finishes with a laugh, "The bill is paid. Take care yeah?"

She walks off under an umbrella without another word. You look back at Jamie, speechless. He looks back at you and you both giggle at the stupidity of it all. You feel plain dumb.

You walk back to your appartment. You can't help but think about how she told you she was not interested and bring it up.

Jamie blinks blankly for a second.

"She's lesbian."

"Oh-"

Way to feel even *more* stupid.

He unlocks the door and you both walk in looking like a pair of stray wet dogs.

"Babe..."

You turn back to him as he closes the door.

"Yeah?"

You watch as he gets down on one knee. What.

What does he think he's doi-

He pulls out a small red box with gold accents from his pocket.

No fucking way.

It clicks open.

"Will you marry me?" His head hanging low, waiting for the answer.

"What the fuck!"

"Is that a yes or a no?!" He has no time to look up as your arms wrap around his neck and push him back onto the ground, kissing him.

"Yes!" You exclaim loud and clear as you continue kissing him, pulling back only to look down at him in adoration. His face is flushed and he has a nervous shaky smile on his lips, half incredulous. He could burst with happiness but he doesn't even know how to react besides kissing you in return.

"I love you so much I feel so stupid for thinking-"

"Shh it's okay, it's okay-!"

You shut him up with more kisses.

Minutes later and you're both a flustered mess and manage to finally sit up.

"So..." He grabs the box from the ground and picks up the ring from it. His other hand holding onto your hand, he slides the ring on your finger. "Miss Siu?" He smiles, his cheeks flushed red and bats his lashes before looking content at you.

"That would be me~!" You reply happily as you take your hands to hold his face and plant another kiss on his pretty lips.

"I love you so much... You'll always be mine..." Forever possessive huh? "You were so jealous... It's kinda cute..."

"Stoooop it was not cute-"

He nuzzles his face closer with a smirk. "Oh but it was very cute. You just can't stand the idea of sharing me? Don't worry... I'm all yours..." He teases whispering.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" You cock an eyebrow at him.

"It means... The great Jamie Siu, belongs to his trophywife and he'll do anything she wants to make it up to her." He has a mischiveous and hopeful smile on his lips.

Good thing you're already on top of him.

#jamie siu #jamie street fighter #jamie siu x reader #street fighter 6 #requests #gourdkeeper #fem reader

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lacrymatoryao3 · 3 months

Text

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 7: New Year’s Eve, 1899 and Day, 1900

[1][2][3][4][5][6]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

4,410 Words (AO3 Link)

“Gettin’ real good at that.” Arthur said sitting on an old barrel, watching Arthur Francisco blow the bottles apart off the nails hammered into the beaten and pellet scarred section of fence. Now and again he would pull out his pistol, taking a shot from his hip to impress the boy despite his fingers starting to go numb even in gloves after a couple of hours in the cold.

Ana had given Arthur Francisco some instruction. He was better for his age than he imagined most boys were. Like his mother his focus was incredible. His stance was solid, his feet apart to match his shoulders and his left foot slightly ahead of his right with its knee facing the targets. He had a decent grip on the rifle, the stock at his dominant shoulder but far enough so it wouldn’t strike his collarbone. He knew not to hold his finger on the trigger unless he was ready to fire. He aligned the barrel with the eyesight and checked it with the attached scope. Arthur made some minor corrections with him over the past week. He had gotten comfortable enough rather quickly.

Arthur remembered an instance when his father tried to teach him to shoot. It didn’t go well. In fact, none of the memories he had of Lyle Morgan were positive except when he died. It wasn’t long after his mother was buried, Lyle trying to give him some semblance of survival kills. He wasn’t going to live forever, after all. A fact Arthur began to savor at one point. In the end, like any time he tried to be a parent, it ended with his hand striking the back of Arthur’s head and the young boy shedding hidden tears after. The only thing he learned from the miserable son of a bitch was using violence to stay alive.

Then he met Dutch and Hosea. It was the first time men had shown him any sort of care, rather than tolerance. The marksmanship he came to depend upon came from their patience. They didn’t lambaste him when he didn’t hit the target, they didn’t lay a hand on him when he needed more instruction, they just kept at it until he was good to handle it on his own.

He had made a promise to himself when Isaac was born and he saw the baby for the first time. He was going to be the opposite of what his father was to him. He tried to balance his two lives, one with the family that had accepted him and gave him love he didn’t have after his mother was gone, and the one consequence thrust upon him to build until it was torn away from him at the cost of two innocent people’s lives.

Looking back, he wasn’t the father he could have been. He’d show up every three months or so, stay a week, and ride back off leaving Eliza to fend for herself with whatever support he could give to her. Though he was always happy to see him, Isaac barely knew him and Arthur didn’t learn enough about him either. Somehow, for some twisted reason, he was given the chance to try again. He could be the father he pledged to be the first time, without the responsibilities of a gang to distract him.

He didn’t know this one either… At all. He didn’t get the glimpses of him as he grew. Arthur Francisco had no idea about him in return, or the fact Arthur was the father he asked about. It had never come up for anyone. Arthur and Ana hadn’t spoken about if or when or how to tell him, and his namesake never said anything. As it stood, this man that suddenly appeared in his life was just a friend of his mother’s from a long time ago. Arthur wondered if he had some sort of inkling. It wasn’t impossible to put the pieces together. They had the same first name, the same color of eyes… Whatever he thought, he was keeping it to himself.

Ana had only given her son a small ration of ammunition to practice with. It was even smaller on New Year’s Eve. There was a schedule they had to follow. Once it had ran out they started walking back to the nice, warm house where Arthur talked the boy through how to use gun oil. Arthur Francisco got most of it on the rag and as a result on the rifle, but his hands were still coated in the greasy fluid when it it got put away. It took him several tries to wash it off.

“What you thinkin’ about huntin’ anyway?” Arthur asked, holding his hands over the stove to take the chill out of them.

“I’m not sure yet,” Arthur Francisco said, “I’d like to at least get a deer. If I’m lucky maybe an elk or moose someday.”

“Ever hunted them before?”

“I’ve tracked them. Couldn’t shoot them. Only animals I’ve killed have been rabbits and turkeys.”

Arthur Francisco began to explain the movements of several deer in the area. He knew exactly where they grazed depending on the season and snow cover. He learned one herds schedule so well he looked at the clock in the kitchen and told Arthur where they were. He also knew the general territories of the elk and moose in the mountains up north according to the roving hunters and trappers who would come and go from Canada. The boy was on his way to being an expert hunter, something Arthur never felt he’d been. He improved a bit after Charles showed him the methods he used. He never was able to master a bow and arrows until then, though he had to admit he still preferred a gun. Either way he hoped he’d be a little bit useful. He had taken down plenty of deer, a few elk, a couple of moose, and other animals in his time. Pearson never went without meat, at least. Arthur used the opportunity to tell the story of the one thing he was proud of: killing that massive and nasty, scarred and half blind grizzly bear above O’Creagh’s run awhile after he and Hosea practically ran from it.

As the time ticked by Ana had finally appeared from upstairs, carrying a the overnight bag she packed for Arthur Francisco. She had been running around the house all day. She cleaned the house top to bottom, mopped the floors with cinnamon and water, made everyone bathe, she put a candle on a white plate surrounded by grains and spices to burn out and buried the waxy remains. On the stove for dinner she had a stew with salted codfish and olives. In the oven was two pans of Mexican styled cornbread, one for them and the other for the Liang family who Arthur Francisco was going to spend the night with since Mrs. O’Hogan was expected to give birth any day.

They finished dinner with a spoonful of lentils. Something that apparently a token of good luck for the coming year. After cleaning up Arthur and Ana accompanied Arthur Francisco to the inn, along with the corn bread. As soon as they went back to the house, Ana disappeared upstairs again to get ready for the party.

She envied men at times. The ordeal getting dressed for any formal occasion was less time consuming for them. They didn’t have the expectation to be as beautiful as possible. Just her hair was a time consuming process. She split the layers in half, braiding the top much like she normally did but more elaborately and higher onto her head. She left the bottom loose and flowing, allowing it to curl in its natural profusion. To think other women envied her for that thick mop she had to care for. She wasn’t a whore anymore, and hadn’t been for over 16 years. If it wasn’t so socially unacceptable she would have cut at least half of it off years and years ago once she had escaped.

One thing it had taught her was how to do her face up without making it too obvious she had product on. She massaged her face, neck, and chest with a soothing cream that was intended to keep her complexion youthful and even… well, as possible. She was getting old and there was only so much she could do about it. When it dried and absorbed she covered it with a fine powder that she had to mix with cocoa and cinnamon to match her skin tone. She covered her eyelids with a subtle dusting of charcoal, then wetted a tiny brush from one of her son’s old paint sets to apply a darker line along her eyelashes. She added some blush to her cheeks and stained her lips with a waxy rouge.

Ana removed her robe and stepped toward the clothing laid out on her neatly made bed. Her stockings and the Combination – an assemblage of the top of a thin strapped chemise sewn to the drawers which made the waist less clumsy – was a heavy knit wool for the cold weather. She slid the low heeled pumps that matched the color of her dress onto her feet, then put on her corset. It was much more rigid and slightly tighter than her normal one, partially for vanity and making the gown’s bodice fit better. She covered it with a ruffled front camisole. The idea was it would keep the dress from being too tight around the breasts, but it really only seemed to give the illusion that they were bigger than they really were. One petticoat was heavy, lined with glazed cotton quilted into black satin. The second petticoat was much finer, a sheer underskirt to cover a back padding that supported the dress’s train… or make her ass bigger, she didn’t really question American fashion anymore.

“You almost done there, Anie?” She heard Arthur’s voice on the other side of her door after a soft knock. Perfect timing.

She opened the door and motioned him inside, “Good! Can you help me with the back of this?”

Arthur had seen women in various states of undress. Whether it was the women in camp, the working girls in whatever town he was in, he’d seen her in a lot less layers than she had on. Yet, he still couldn’t be casual about it. It still felt indecent of him to be there. He obliged, of course, standing behind Ana and focusing of fastening the back buttons of her gown’s bodice and only that. He turned away from her to let her put on the skirt, a shy attempt at maintaining her modesty around him.

Ana shook her head, muffling her laugh with a smirk. She put on her gloves and a set of pearl jewelry she received as a wedding gift before ending the charade, “Well? I think you can look at me now.”

She didn’t look like the same woman. She was regal in her champagne yellow gown with irises draping down the fabric in delicate golden silk threads. The train made her appear smaller, delicate, the most feminine she had ever looked. Her rigid stance still dripped with the same wild pride she had since he met her.

Arthur smiled, one of the few genuine ones he could recall over the last few years, “Almost don’t recognize you. Didn’t think you could seem dainty.”

“Oh, I could still take you down if I needed to.” She replied keenly.

It made him laugh. The girl he knew was still in there. Just waiting for the moment to resurface.

Ana folded her jacket over her arm, a closely matching black opera coat overlaid with yellow lace and lined with black fur. Arthur held the door open for her, “I have no doubts you could.”

The Grange hall was a nondescript structure, built like an oversized double shotgun house. It could have been easily passed by, even with the sign hanging from the porch roof that wasn’t readable until they were right in front of it. The entryway had a strong scent of oak from the wall panels. Arthur underestimated the population of the town. People came flooding into the hall with them in droves to the point it started to make him nervous.

A young man who was a member of the Grange fellowship took their coats. They entered the main meeting hall to join the throng of people. It certainly wasn’t a high class affair like the ball that wretch Bronte held in Saint Denis. It was much looser, less focus on formalities and more on the locals having fun. What people wore ranged from simple evening wear they could afford, to just what they put on when going to church on Sundays. On the stage was a volunteer brass band. It was immediate that they weren’t professionals, but while they didn’t play well it was enough to dance to without being grating.

Lounging at the end of one of the benches that spanned the walls underneath the windows was a man. He was about as tall and built similar to Arthur, though clearly several years older. His face was much more weathered, with a default expression of solemnity and seriousness. His heavy horseshoe shaped mustache and eyebrows where an ashen white, as was most of his hair except his long muttonchops and ends swept behind his ears that reached his shoulders which still retained traces of auburn. He seemed to be studying everyone who crossed the gaze of his oddly piercing dull gray-green eyes. The simpleness of his wool blue-black suit stuck out or the occasion, until Arthur noticed the overly polished brass six pointed star sheriff badge pinned to his chest.

Ana approached nonchalantly him, “Good evening, Sheriff! Even working on a night like this?”

Seeing her, his eyes lit up and he stood to greet her, “Ah! Mrs. Gardener! It’s good to see you! You look lovely as you always do!”

Something about how they talked didn’t sit well with Arthur. He couldn’t entirely place why, but there was a twinge in his chest. Maybe the fact he was the Sheriff that caused it, or how suddenly warm he became to her. He quietly reminded himself, regardless of what once was, she was no longer his. It didn’t stop the simmering instinct to get her away from him, protect her from whatever he was eyeing her for.

Ana motioned to Arthur to join them, delicately leading him by the arm, “Sheriff Strange, this is Mr. Arthur Callahan. He’s been staying and working with me for a few months now. Arthur, this is Sam Strange, Cain Valley’s sheriff. Mr. O’Hogan told you about him if you were interested in maybe helping with some bounties or whatever else.”

“Sir.” Arthur acknowledged gruffly.

The Sheriff looked him over, “You look tough enough. Could use more strong men in these parts. Especially once the thaw starts. With the lower states pushing back against ‘em, we’ve been getting a lot of gentlemen hoping to cause mischief like they used to. If Mrs. Gardener can give you the time, stop by the station.”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged before they moved on to the banquet table in front of the stage. The centerpiece was a large crystal bowl of spiced punched that had cherries and orange slices floating in it. Behind it were bottles of rather cheap wine and champagne and carefully arranged glasses. On plates to the side were dainty snack foods like crackers and cheese, small fruit tartlets, and different kinds of finger sandwiches. Ana poured Arthur and herself some wine. She identified the eligible women in attendance. Many of them she knew and she narrowed them down to an acceptable age.

“Have you seen anyone you think you’d like?” Ana asked innocently.

Arthur had forgotten about Ana’s plans on finding him a woman, “Can’t say I’ve been paying much attention.”

Ana started subtly pointing out she settled upon, “The really tall blond lady over there in the pink dress? That’s Ingrid Svensson. Her sister Astrid is the school teacher, because of that she’s not permitted to attend events like this. Astrid is 25, Ingrid is 27… Over on the other end, the two women chatting in the corner in red and green? One is Nina Weimann. She’s also 27. Her father is the barber. The other one, her friend, is Zofia Grabowski. She’s 28, came here from Poland to marry a miner. He apparently died before she arrived and she wandered up here. She works as a milk maid and a laundress… The woman next to Sheriff Strange is his daughter, Louise. She’s 30 and her surname is still technically Covey. She was married for a while, but moved to Nevada for a year and got a divorce… Just walking in, in that bright purple is Margot Lambert. She’s a bit more closer to your age, 33. Her grandfather was a French trapper to staked a mine claim here. Even after it dried up they remained. They’re good people. Run the bank now. Just… Pick out whoever you like and I’ll introduce you. Or all them, we can make a circuit.”

Arthur followed her gesture. There was nothing about any of the women, not that they weren’t attractive and he was sure they were nice, that piqued his interest.

“What makes you think I’m keen in any of them?” He muttered.

Ana playfully poked his back, “Oh come on, Arthur.”

Arthur jumped away from her and laughed, “Why you so determined to get rid of me?”

“I’m not trying to get rid of you!” She defended, “But you need someone. My god, when was the last time you even bedded anyone?”

His eyes widened in surprise at the question, sputtering out in reply, “When was the last time you did?!”

Ana swallowed down the last of her wine and poured another, “Too goddamn long, that’s when.”

Arthur sat down on one of the long benches as Ana joined the Contra group dance. Just watching it overstimulated him. For one so fast paced he’d have made a complete clown of himself if he had tried. Ana stuck out, a jewel among them in her rich dress. Her skirts billowing about as she glided from one partner to another. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, striking a match with the sole of his shoe. He took a few hard puffs. Jealousy reared itself in his emotions again, especially with the men who became her momentary partner. Being unable to quell it was further frustrating him. What the hell did he want? Even more, what the hell did she want?

Ana had much more to drink by the time she rejoined him. Her face was rosier with the amount of alcohol in her blood, her eyes sparkling, and a wide smile on her face. She dropped beside him heavily and joyfully wrapped her arms around him.

“Don’t sit there with such a sour face!” She teasingly chided, “You used to know how to have fun! Come on, the next dance we have!”

She led him hand in hand to the floor. Her steps weren’t as graceful as they were at the beginning of the party. Arthur himself had a bit to drink, but he didn’t indulge as heavily as Ana did. He had to be on his best behavior, after all.

When the waltz began Ana had brought herself closer to him than the usual. She led at first, a comical sight for a woman whose head only reached his chest. Once he was refamiliar with the movements she let him. She sighed and laid her head on him. In her deep brown eyes was a deep affection that was always in the background of her gaze towards him. Something that came to the surface once her inhibitions were thoroughly suppressed. He hadn’t seen it in so long. It was pure and unconditional, unashamed and not awkward or close to ashamed like he had with Mary the last few times she and Arthur had crossed paths.

He didn’t know how deep it went for her. How safe she felt with his arm around her, his hand resting on her back. It was the same when they were young, like his presence was where she felt the most right and where she belonged. If she could tell him, she would. Instead she simply savored the brief moment, rather than the endless ideas of what could have been.

The champagne began being passed around as it grew closer to midnight. The band stopped when another member of the Grange came onto the stage. With his watch in hand he began announcing the minutes to midnight. Once 10 seconds were left the crowd joined in, counting down from 9 until the new year finally arrived.

It was 1900. A new century. Everyone was cheering. The church bell began to toll in celebration and the band played Auld Lang Syne with some singing loudly along and other throwing small pieces of food or coins at the door to the entry hall, a superstition to prevent hunger or poverty in the coming months. There was another tradition Ana had wanted to fulfill, one that caught Arthur off guard. She turned to him, standing as tall as she could and kissed him on his cheek.

It lingered on him on the way home. He didn’t understand the messages she was sending him. One moment she was trying to find him a bride… The next she was pressed against him and she had her lips on his face. He was considerably less drunk than Ana was, who spend the time gushing about their shared memories, but he was enough for the contradictions to annoy him.

Ana felt his mood shift. His energy was always so strong when his mood changed, comparable to the air when a sudden storm rolled in. Another thing her son had in common with him. It sucked the mirth inside her, replacing it with cold and anxiety. She waited until they were inside where it was warm to confront him about it.

“What’s bothering you now, Arthur?”

“It’s just…” Arthur grunted, pausing and slamming his fist on the capped post at the bottom of the bannister, “What you want from me, Ana?”

She blinked, his image swayed in her foggy vision, “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Bullshit!” He barked, “You get all nice and cozy to me, then you act like you don’t want me!”

Knowing him, how easily he felt rejected, made what he said painfully sear through her. Her instincts to hide weakness made her straighten, to fight the regretful tears starting to string her eyes, “It’s… It’s not that I don’t want you.”

That only further agitated him, “THEN WHAT THE HELL IS IT?!”

“BECAUSE I WILL NEVER BE MARY!” Ana shouted back. She covered her face. The dam had burst and she couldn’t allow him to see it. She softened her voice, “I accepted, ten years ago, that you would never love me the same level as I loved you.”

She started to laugh at how ludicrous she sounded, “That’s it! The truest form of love I can show you is a path where you can actually enjoy life. It doesn’t matter if it involves me. I’ve had a good life, I want the same thing for you.”

No matter what she said the result was still the same. While Arthur’s anger was gone, the self loathing that haunted him filled every fiber of him. He just stared at her, remorse etching the lines in his face deeper. He reached out to her, “Anie…”

“No. I just can’t…” She stumbled passed him up the stairs.

He heard the door slam. He just stood there. He’d rather she had just called him names, confirmed what he already knew about himself. What did happen made him feel worse. Something clicked as his silent chastisement paralyzed him. He didn’t know what it was, but it was enough for him to follow. Ana was probably undressed by now, in her nightwear. He just hoped he didn’t totally miss the chance to make something right. He hesitated at her door. From the other side were her muffled sobs.

He didn’t knock. Ana didn’t react to him entering and softly closing the door behind him. He sat next to her on the bed, only able to muster a weak “Ana…”.

“Will you at least try?” She said weakly, staring at him with red and watery eyes, “For me? For our child?”

Arthur rested his palms of Ana’s cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that stained her face, “Yeah. I can try.”

He pulled down the blankets of her bed. She wearily obeyed, allowing him to help her lay down and tuck her in, “But, for now, you need to rest. You had a lot to drink tonight.”

He lowered the flame in the kerosene lamp on the side table to a dim glow. Once he was satisfied that she would be okay, he got up. Before he could get too far away from her, Ana grabbed his wrist.

“Please don’t leave me…”

Her hold on him was strong, desperate. Ana knew it shouldn’t be. She was the one who left him. She was no more worthy of it than any common whore. In her state, she just couldn’t be alone, away from him.

Arthur couldn’t say no, not with her despondent mood and woeful expression of heartbreak. He nodded. He did, however, instruct her to let him undress. She closed her eyes as he quietly stripped himself of his confining clothing, making sure his union suit didn’t show too much. The innocence of it aside, he did have some apprehensions sharing a bed with her. He hadn’t done anything of the sort in years, to the point he couldn’t really remember exactly when. Still, he crawled in on the empty side next to her. He put his arm around her, where she instinctively rested her head and hand on his chest.

“Since the party didn’t seem to go well,” Ana whispered as sleep came, “Do you want help finding Mary? I’m still willing.”

Arthur pulled her closer, covering her more, “You don’t need to worry about her no more.”

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 posting #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 community #red dead 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan rdr2

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fantasticallyfruity4 · 1 year

Text

Billy and Eddie got a little place together after highschool.

It’s nothing fancy, really. But it’s nicer than the house on old cherry road, and nicer than Wayne’s trailer. Which yes, is Eddie’s home, and he’d never speak bad of, but god knows is held together by duck tape and prayer.

Honestly it’s only nice because it’s new. It’s a little 2 bedroom apartment above one of the stores on main. The owner used to use it as storage but since the mall opened he could used the extra income from converting it to a little apartment.

It’s got steady heat and electric. And they can even make the room to splurge on a basic cable package. they both know just how much that is to have. just how lucky they are to have that much.

they both know how lucky they are that the fridge isn't overflowing but always stocked enough. that they can afford a few meals out a week when they’re lazy, or as a little treat. that they can have days off during the week, fucking weekends!!! like they're middle class or some crazy shit. ends are met, and there's still some give. fuck, there's even a tiny savings account ($10 a week in the big shoebox Billys work boots came in. they deposit it when it fills up).

The entirety of the apartment is pretty humble. the “new” bed frame was from ikea, on sale because it was the display. the nightstands were from one of the thrift stores. the couch was from garreth’s place before his mom decided to redecorate, and garreth told them if they would lug it it was theirs. the coffee table was a house warming gift from Joyce Byers (and Billys still not sure he deserves her forgiveness or love, but that’s besides the point), the kitchen table from a flea market and the chairs (which honestly look like they could go, right eds? they're a great match we’ll take em) from a yard sale (same as their dressers). but everything works damn fine.

And best of all they were able to take Max in.

See, when Billy got the fuck outta dodge Neil got real mean to Max.

nothing happened, at least they were told so by the girl. and if she lied? billy wouldn't hold it against her, he'd been there- lying to anyone and Eveyone about what went on in that house. but assuming it didn't happen, it did still come too damn close.

And when max called one night and said “Billy I’m scared”, the boys were over with Eddie’s van in a half an hour and packing her shit while eddie Called in a favor from Steve harrington who called in a favor from Jim hopper, who just stood menacingly in the doorway, daring Neil to say or do a damn thing.

And this town is too damn small. Because Jim told Joyce, (the boys guessed), and Joyce must have called around, because when they got home Nancy wheeler was standing outside their door with an air mattress, a shopping bag full of some twin size linens, and a bag from melvads, just of “what her and her mom thought max might have forgotten or might need. there's some uh, snacks too. whoppers are mikes favorite so-”.

And max settles in easy. Eddie took her to the mall that Saturday to pick up some “posters and shit” for her new room, because “babe come on it’s the least we can do, that room is fucking sad”. she replaced a couple of the tapes she left at Neil and Susans, and even got 2 new ones. she picked up some posters for her wall, some stickers. some fuckin girly bath shit or something, Eddie was trying not to get a headache from how much that store smelt like one of Santas elves hurled, and some odds and ends clothing wise. (”you forgot your raincoat but not your boots?” “no you need a real jacket for the cold its fucking November your bother would kill me come on, pick one” “how many pairs of socks- no honey we don't do laundry that fast you need another pack... maybe two”)

and billy spends the morning calling around the thrift stores, flea markets, the god damn churches, to see if anyone has anything for a bedroom set for a teenaged girl. saint some-fucin-one had a dresser he could come get, and the sally anne had a decent bed frame and a desk too (fuck the kid needs a desk doesn't she, billy realized), and he saw a little nightstand on someones curb that was fucking fine condition just needed a good cleaning. but he had to bite the full price bullet on a mattress and that hurt a little but okay. and... shit she’d like that rug. it'll make it more homey. the kids had to hard, she deserves it.

after everything they were a little low on their usual comfy pocket change and 80 bucks into the shoebox fund, and fuck were they so lucky to have it. max was overjoyed, and so happy with it. and she looked so relaxed, so comfortable.

they never even mentioned kids. not even in a far out future way, but here they were.

max slowly casually slips into calling billy her brother. and then one day her and Eddie are getting tacos on the way home from a movie billy thought was “way too stupid to sit through, you two dorks have fun” and they bumped into one of max’s classmates and she introduced Eddie as her bother in law and fuck, did Eddie feel a lot of things at that. not as many as when he heard her on the phone say “sorry my brothers hosting his d+d thing tonight and its like, a family thing so I can’t”

the apartment is a weird mix of metal and Kate bush, but they’re all so comfortable with eachother.

Eddie hosts his D+D nights in the apartment and the kids are still a little bit skittish around Billy but he’s getting better. He stays out of the way, spends most of the nights in the bedroom, but occasionally comes out to make the party snacks and put out some water or iced tea. Interrupts with a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, saying “time to take a fucking break there’s snacks on the counter”, virtually court ordering a 10 minute recess so he can ask Eddie to catch him up on the campaign. And Max, who only really comes out of her room on these nights to bully Lucas and sit with El on the sidelines spectating (making fun of the boys), realizes that Billy doesn’t give a fuck what the campaign is, or how it’s playing out, he just wants to see how excited Eddie gets talking about his hobby, watching with soft eyes as he gets the full eddie munson: DM experience. And it seems like even if he doesn’t understand, Billy does encode what Eddie tells him, with the questions he asks and the comments he makes. Her brother is in love. And yeah she kinda knew that, they did move in together after all, but he’s really, really in love, Max realizes.

Billy’s a better cook than Eddie. And Billy isn’t great by any means, but Billy had to learn how to keep himself alive at a young age, whereas Eddie kinda always had Wayne looking out for him. So Eddie’s in charge of toast and coffee in the morning (which he burns more often than he’d like to admit) and Billy does the honors of real breakfast on the weekends, when they aren’t rushing around for work and school. Billy usually handles Dinner, and Eddie tries to help, god knows, but he’s a safety hazard and a half, as max has screamed while shooing him out of the kitchen many times.

Eddie takes good care of Billy too. It’s like he reads his mind, face getting worried and asking if he’s okay out of no where, catching a triggered Billy before even billy knows sometimes. Eddie takes care of Billy emotionally, which Billy’s never had before. He holds his hand and rubs his knuckles and promises him the world and delivers it. Max never really saw Billy cry before she started living with them. And it’s only happened twice, but she’s caught Eddie holding Billy while he honest to god Sobs, and she thinks it should probably freak her out but it’s kinda comforting to know Billy feels safe enough to do that, and that Eddie’s gonna take care of him.

Max thinks that maybe this is what normal parents are like. Loving each other, looking out for each other, taking care of each other. Trying to appreciate the others interests.

And they support her too. Much to her discomfort. Her report card is on the fridge, (held down by a magnet that’s a bottle opener) and both young men had stars in their eyes that she did so well her first quarter living with them because that means they haven’t fuck up too bad. (“It’s 4 Bs and 3 A’s Billy it’s not that great” “it’s better than I ever did! Fuck, Eddie get over here look that this! Isn’t this amazing!” “Yeah max holy shit! I had to re do senior year like, twice, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten an A in my life!”) Eddie was digging through the drawers desperately looking for anything magnetic to hang it up the second he finished talking. Eddie never really got into skating himself but some of his friends did. He gives max rides to the park a few towns over some evenings, swears it’s no sweat because he likes the record store here better anyway. And sometimes cassettes just show up on her desk randomly, songs and albums she maybe said she liked once on the radio in Billy’s car.

At first max doesn’t know how to interact with Wayne. She never knew her grandparents too well, and neither her dad or step dad were worth their weight in salt. So the first dinner he’s around she’s a little stiff. So stiff that Billy takes her aside to make sure she’s alright.

But Wayne’s alwyas been good with skittish kids with fucked up families, and he gets on her good side pretty fast. Wayne helps max replace her old skateboard wheels that Sunday.

It’s not a normal family, Max is well aware of that. But it’s the best she’s got, and the best she’s ever had. She likes it fine enough.

#mungrove #billy hargrove #Eddie munson

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faecaptainofdreams · 10 months

Text

Six days in, three to go.

The zbornak sat alone by the campfire, her prey tied to a cactus, of all things.

Over the near-week they'd been together, his optimism and ability to handle anything she threw at him had grated on her.

She tried not to let him have the power of knowing he frustrated her, but Sylvia was losing her nerve.

He talked too much, escaped his binds too much, was overall just too much.

And he really though he could be her friend?

Not even in his furry orange dreams.

He must've been one hell of a joker, she thought, or completely batshit.

Either way, it wasn't any of her business.

In her remarkable contempt this night, she allowed him to eat only a couple of small desert plants for his dinner (and water), and kept him away from the fire to remain cold.

The cactus was just for extra touch; she wanted his spirit broken.

She wanted to see him crack and finally fight back against her, to give her a real reason to feel okay about dropping him off.

This was how she handled all her victims; no attachments, no feeling, no mercy.

You can't be a bounty hunter and feel remorse.

But even cold, even with an unfilled stomach, and even tied to a goddamn thorny plant in the open wilderness, Wander the fugitive continued to smile, and babble.

Even with blood staining his fur from being pricked by needles.

Even with his legs being so tired from walking all day, so tired they were bowing.

Even with the threat of death looming over his head, he found strength inside.

Sylvia listened to him stoically as she ate her freshly-killed hare.

It was obvious by his voice and mannerisms that he was deeply uncomfortable and exhausted, but what would it take for him to give up?

"--I mean, it's SOME consolation that they want me alive, don'tcha think?

Maybe they just want me to serve my time," he finished with a tired smile.

Sylvia, meanwhile, finally eyed him from the corner of her gaze, pausing.

He could not be serious.

"OH!

Maybe I'll get community service helpin' folks by pickin' up trash on freeways!

Or helpin' lil' old ladies cross streets or minin' for precious ores for hospital equipment!

D'aww, and they'd gimme some'a those cute lil' stripy outfits!"

Sylvia rose coolly to her feet, nostrils flaring, and quietly unsheathed a hunting knife from her ammo belt.

Wander noticed right away, but seemed unfazed.

"Oh my, that's an awful large knife!

You gonna cut me loose an' let me sit with ya?" he asked, now smiling excitedly as her shadow loomed over him.

"'Cos that'd be s--"

In a flash the zbornak was in front of him, jamming a knife into the flesh of the cactus, just an inch from the top of his tattered hat.

A tiny shriek escaped her captive as fluid from the injured plant squirted out and bled down its body and onto his hat, soaking into the fabric.

He breathed faster and with effort, peering deep into the piercing, laser-like neon-pink eyes of the bounty hunter.

She spoke low and grizzled, brow heavy with anger.

The nomad pulled his lip up, fighting gravity and his nerves, never blinking.

"They only reason they want you breathing, is to get the satisfaction of watching the light leave your eyes."

Wander fought to hide the trembling in his body.

He didn't want her to feel anymore in control than she wanted him to feel.

"You're gonna swing...

And I don't mean on a playground..."

Sylvia swiftly yanked the knife back out from the cactus, releasing more water and juices to drizzle down its lumpy exterior and to soak into Wander's hat and fur.

As she walked back to the fire, Wander allowed himself to shudder, exhaling after having held his breath for those last few moments.

Although he was now sweating, he somehow felt even colder after she walked away from him.

He'd pressed closer up against the cactus when he was startled, pushing more needles into his skin -- he already had a few jammed into the backs of his arms.

Thankfully his large head meant his body couldn't be pressed flat against it, and Sylvia had even given him a little wiggle room.

The way she'd seen it, if he had been tied tight to the plant, the deep impaling of the thorns might have killed him.

That or a broken neck from slumping his head harshly all night.

She couldn't bring him back dead, or she wouldn't get paid.

Rattled and suffering, Wander observed Sylvia sit back by the fire and finish her meal.

Despite everything, he still managed a tiny smile after swallowing the dry lump in his throat.

In the morning, Sylvia would be dismayed to find him having freed himself, and still positive and ready to follow her to his demise.

-------------------------------------------------------------

#Wander Over Yonder #WOY #Wander Over Yonder Sylvia #star nomad #zbornak #alien #bounty Hunter

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maskyartist · 3 months

Note

EXPLOSIVE KINGDOMS questions

did creek find them after the events of the first movie or is it different?

why does creek tell the putt putt trolls everyone is dead if it does takes place after the move?

how did clay and viva take the fact both branch and poppy are dead?

do you think clay also believed floyd is also dead seeing as he left before clay and clay lived in isolation will no idea if floyd left after him?

what inspired you to make this au?

i have more questions but i think this will cover most of what im questioning and also give me more questions i can ask later

FINALLY SOMEONE ASKS THE REAL QUESTIONS AROUND HERE! Been waitin for this one, have a timeline goin on my phone and everything OKAY SO!-

Creek finds them about 1 month after the first movie (a bit after World Tour starts. keep in mind the Putt Putts were isolated completely so they have no knowledge of the rockpocolypse n all that). Instead of the usual canon ending, Creek actually leads the Bergens to Pop Village as usual and ends up escaping in the chaos of the capturing of Trolls, running into the forest and essentially leaving them all for dead

2. So to answer ur second question with the first, its because Creek HIMSELF believes them to be dead! He assumes he saved only himself by leading Chef to Pop Village, and ends up telling Viva just that, fudging the story a bit to make him look sympathetic and the "only survivor of a tragic capture"

2.5 (To follow that up, he essentially tells Viva he and his village were captured by Bergens (true), but that he was the only one who managed to escape by the skin of his teeth and has been alone ever since. he paints himself as a victim entirely to avoid being denied entry to the village)

3. Here's the thing with the Putt Putts. In my mind, i've always hc'd that everyone HOPED the other Trolls were alive but...that was just hope. Everyone actually BEING alive was a pipe dream in their minds after the cave in. They believe the cave in extended to the entirety of the tunnel, not just their end, so they believe the entire Pop Tribe that were ahead of them are dead. Clay has a sobering realization he was right all along, and Viva is stone cold anger.

Learning her people were still out there, still being hunted, and eaten, it lights a fire in her heart.

This is the spark that begins the Putt Putt's aim for an all out war. So at least for this AU, the Putt Putts always believed the other Trolls were dead from the start.

4. While yes his brothers did leave, Clay had no idea WHERE they left. The only brother he has doubts on if he's dead is John Dory, seeing as he left for the mountains, and even then no one's a perfect survivalist. Who knows if he made it?

In my mind (and canon for this specific AU), the leaving order went JD immediately, then Spruce a few days later, Clay a couple weeks after that, and finally Floyd leaving Baby Branch with Grandma. Having it happen so immediately in the movie doesnt really sit right with me for this situation? So I wanted it spaced out

Clay has no idea where Floyd went. Hes got no clue hes on a "solo career". So he assumes he stayed with Branch and that they're both gone. Along with the unknown place of Spruce and the potential of what the mountains did to JD...

There are five planted flowers behind the Admin Building. One for each of his brothers, and one for his grandmother who he assumes died in the tunnels as well.

5. Honestly? And ur gonna laugh but aside from my general love of dramatic AUs and the idea of Clay being an arsonist making me laugh one night, I got tipped over the edge...CAUSE I FOUND THIS ANIMATIC-

youtube

AND ITS SO GOOD

the actual animatic (while being incredible amazing tasty spectacular) didnt inspire me, the SONG did. the idea of Viva singing the first half while her Putt Putts charge into Bergentown-

"In all of my years of living, it isn't very often that I get this far-

I try to chill with the waves...but damn, you've crossed the line~"

"I've been so gracious! And yet you hurt the people of mine!

That's right, the Trolls that you made die...were mine."

(with a lil tweaking to make it fit)

While Clay's under the city rigging things up cornered by Poppy and Branch trying to make him stop this and just-

"You are the worst kind of good, 'cause you're not even great." (aimed at Poppy)

"The Queen, who reeks of false righteous, that's who I HATE!"

"Because you fight to save lives, but can't kill, and won't keep us all safe.

I mean, you totally could've avoided all this, had you just ended them...

But no."

"You are far too nice! Mercy has a price!"

LIKE THERES A VIBE HERE (obviously this isn't what'll happen im still ironing out details but this was my inspo :) That and Persona 5 Tactica that game's all about revolution)

I would say, keep in mind, this scenario would take place after finding out that yes the other Trolls are still alive, but now Viva and the Putt Putts are committed to completing with they started for those they lost to Trollstice's before them. They WANT revenge. Why should they have to play nice? Why should THEY forgive the consumption of their people? That kinda vibe :)

AND WHATEVER ELSE U WANNA ASK IS TOTALLY FINE! Send questions as u think of em! :D This AU isn't entirely complete quite yet, so these asks help me really nail down what details I want or at least see things written out and get some good feedback! :D

#masky gets the mail #explosive kingdoms au #trolls dreamworks #trolls clay #trolls viva #trolls creek #long post #i would've done a read more but i feel this is just gonna be long no matter what #hopefully this answers ur questions!! :D #if yall got anything to ask about my other aus absolutely send em my way #again this helps me iron things out SO much more then u think #my adhd brain needs the help #there's still one more AU i wanna design for and then i'll have my nice lil star of AUs #cause i think i deserve to have a John Dory in the John Dory support group too >3>#....well two if we also include The Royal Party but he'd never admit to needing therapy

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bendingthelaws · 18 hours

Text

Colin leaned up against the wall of his office as the lab techs swept his office. They had arrived shortly after the others had left. The techs were meticulous, he would give them that. They were picking through every square inch of the office he spent the greater part of his life in. It made him reflect on that life and the choices he had made that brought him to the present. The drive within him that had caused him to chase Constantin to the point that both of them were staring insanity dead in the eyes, and wondering who would blink first.

As the techs seemed to work without sound, Colin could hear the wind outside of the windows. It was cold, it was hard, and it didn’t care who got in its way. It would push and it would blow, unyielding in its drive to reach the final destination of its journey. Much like when Colin was pursuing a conviction, everything but the end goal faded away. He had become a force of nature himself, but now he wondered if that force of nature he had become had finally met its match.

Finally, unable to take the feeling of being paralyzed to do anything to help the situation, Colin decided to return to his house and try to get some work done there. Even if he was unable to, at least he would not have people walking by to gawk, and see if they could get information for the latest gossip exchange on a smoke break. Being the next exhibit in the zoo was not a life he wanted.

Leaving word with his secretary to forward all calls to his cell, he called a car, packed up his laptop, and headed down to the front of the building. There was a heaviness to the building that seemed to lift off of him as soon as he exited the front doors. The anchor that had been dragging behind him since he’d found the box was removed and his steps increased in speed. While concentrating with guilt weighing on him like a lodestone as he circled around all of the details of the case would be difficult, it would be easier away from the site of the most recent event. Trying to focus in the main building was going to be an effort in futility, he was sure.

Things weren’t much better at his house, it was just a change of scenery and fewer people. The walls seemed to be closing in on him. This is what he got for always living alone. He’d been so focused on his career that he had never really taken time to make many connections outside of work. When he went out to dinner, it was with associates in his office or with members of some organization he was a member of. The most socialization he did was to go for a celebratory drink with some of the cops at Mulligan’s after winning a case. That’s where he’d first met Karsten, who was probably the closest thing he had to a real friend after Demitri.

There had been one who had gotten under his skin, but he’d let her slip away when she had to go home to NYC when her assignment as part of a joint task force with the DEA and Marshal's service came to an end. He missed her and felt like an idiot for not doing more to keep in contact or go visit. Once again, his personal life had taken a back seat to his job. He’d been so focused on bringing down Constantin Rakeovich that he’d let everything in life slide. Most he didn’t care about, but she was something else.

*****

It had been a while since Aoife returned to New York from Chicago. Before she’d left, Colin had said he wanted to make things work between them. All he’d done since was prove why lawyers could never be trusted, even prosecutors. They’d talked on the phone a few times, exchanged texts and even face timed a couple of times. However, even when he’d had off for Christmas and New Year’s he hadn’t shown up like promised. His Christmas gift still sat wrapped on the entry table of her apartment. It made her feel like a fool every time she looked at it, but reminded her why she was keeping distant. She’d really stopped trying to reach out to him a couple weeks ago, if he wanted to connect then he’d need to step up. She was no one’s fool and at no one’s beck and call.

Ever since she’d returned the guys at the precinct had known something was up. No matter how hard she tried to hide a broken heart behind excuses of jet lag and then frustrations over her cases in the city, she knew she was failing. This is why she stayed closed off, whenever she felt something, it was deeply. Things with Colin were no different, and the fact it was now affecting her work bothered her.

After she’d stopped being the one to initiate contact, there had been random texts and a couple calls. She was starting to try and heal from the heartbreak and disappointment. So when the phone rang and it was Colin, her initial instinct had been to reject it and ignore. Unfortunately matters of the heart weren’t as black and white as the law, and she caved right before it headed to voicemail on its own.

“Flanagan.” The word was said clipped and her tone left no doubt that this wasn’t the most friendly greeting. A flip of her head took her bangs out of her eyes as she blew out a breath as he answered. Colin wasn’t a man to say please, so she did wonder what he had to say, but she was still pissed at him. “I haven’t hung up yet, Colin. What have you got to say that’s so important you call me in the middle of the day?” She would listen, to a point. After that point, she’d just let him talk to dead air.

*****

Colin had been pacing in his house, but now he leaned up against the counter in his kitchen with his back facing it. A hand ran through his hair, sending it in all directions, before scrubbing across his face. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but her abruptness didn’t help him feel any better or more relaxed in talking to her. It was like when he highlighted witness testimony to point something out, it just brought more attention to his failings and missteps.

How many times had he been behind the eight-ball just like this in the courtroom and been able to talk himself out of it? He’d honestly lost count, but he was about to see if he was able to do it again. The stakes were high, but that didn’t frighten him. What frightened him? Losing.

As he listened to the ringing after he’d dialed her number, he was pretty sure that he was going to get sent to voicemail. Not that he would blame her, but he still had hope she’d listen to him at some point. So, when she answered he took a deep breath and prepared to win this just like he did every time that he walked into the courtroom. If he didn’t win, it wouldn’t be his first defeat, but it would sting more than any other. “Aoife, please don’t hang up. I know I’m a jackass and you can rip me a new one for being a major one. Just please don’t hang up, I need to talk to you. Will you listen?”

“Aoife, I’m not going to try to make excuses for my failings. I own them and I know what they are. I’ll even list them if that would make you feel better to know I am fully aware of what a thoughtless asshole I can be.” He took a breath and looked at the floor. Unlike in a courtroom, he wasn’t as polished at what to say when it came to his personal life. Things weren’t as cut and dry. The outcome was based on far more than a yes/no decision. “I had something happen that has started to put things in perspective for me. I’ve had tunnel vision for too long and I’ve let things slide, things I shouldn’t have. I was so honed in on one thing, it became my world and life.”

He didn’t want to make excuses, and what he was saying wasn’t one. Colin still wanted Aoife to understand that he knew what he’d done though. He could only hope she’d forgive him. So far she hadn’t said anything so he was hoping she was still listening. “I wanted things to work between us, Aoife, and I know I screwed that up by being an oblivious fool. I’ve not done my part at all. I’ve just had everything put in a crystal clear perspective and if there is any way to salvage what was between us, I’m hoping that you can find enough faith to let me prove what I’m saying. I want us to work.” He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t deserve any kind of redemption, but Colin hoped that she’d give him a shot.

*****

Something was off, she could tell that. What Aoife couldn’t tell was what. This wasn’t the Colin Masterson that had seemed so in command of everything in Chicago. No, this sounded more like a man broken. She was a bit surprised; she didn’t think anything or anyone could break Colin. Still, she wasn’t ready to trust him just yet.

“Are you having problems getting your social calendar full, Colin? As I remember there were several females interested in filling it and your bed. Or are they not enough?” Her feet came down off of her desk where she’d had them propped with ankles crossed. Now her feet were flat on the floor as she leaned over her desk. “Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that the great Colin Masterson can’t let a woman walk away from him. Is that it? You have to be the one to leave, well you already did that.” The bitterness in her own voice surprised her. It had been a long time since she’d trusted anyone and what was going on right now was exactly why.

*****

Her words stung, but then Colin figured they were probably meant to. He’d earned every single one of them, and the insinuation that they carried. There was little doubt that her next words were probably going to be telling him to kiss her ass and then hanging up. He’d earned that too.

“I deserve that, and more, Aoife. You’re light years away from the truth though. Do you remember the case I was starting when you left against Constantin Rakeovich?” He waited till he heard her make some kind of acknowledgment before continuing. “We filed an indictment a week ago. The next day the intern assigned to me disappeared. He’s mailing her back to me in pieces. Today I got her eye.” Revulsion hit him again at the thought of it and he had to pause to keep from vomiting, again. The thought of that poor girl made it hard for him to concentrate on much else, but he needed to if he was going to convince her he was serious. “I don’t care if my bed’s empty, Aoife. I don’t want my life to be, and it has been. The only time it didn’t feel that way was with you.”

*****

Listening to him, she wanted to accuse him of lying. She worked in NYC, she knew that there were some sick and twisted individuals out there, but for someone to take a DA head-on like that, that was something new. Colin’s voice and his cadence in speaking told her that he wasn’t lying though. He was troubled and feeling off-balance, then again who wouldn’t be to be sent another person’s eye?

Her voice lowered and softened before Aoife continued, “Colin, I can’t trust you. I’m sorry. I can tell you’re going through hell, but that doesn’t change what happened when you weren’t.” Her fingers combed through her hair. Despite her words, she wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe that he meant what he said and that it would be different. The past had made her a bit too jaded for that though.

*****

“I’m not asking you to trust me, Aoife. I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove it. If I don’t then you can rip me apart for it. Yell, scream, throw things at me, whatever will make you feel better. I don’t intend on letting that happen though, this is something I want; and you do know what happens when I really want something. I get it.” He sounded a little firmer this time, more in control than before. Colin didn’t feel it, but for once his powers of self-control were paying off.

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bitea-sweetea-roseytocin · 8 months

Text

I didn't see the first week, but here we go

The world is colder than it used to be- and she thought she knew what it was to be cold on winter days, wrapped in layers and layers of warm blankets and pajamas, struggling to keep all of her limbs cocooned as she sipped on cocoa and watched Christmas movies.

She can't wrap herself in blankets, now. She can't drink hot chocolate and movies seem pointless.

Why learn how to celebrate the joys of life when she is no longer alive?

At first, she thought it was cool. She could float, move through walls. But the reverie was broken when she saw her parents sobbing and was unable to do anything about it. She couldn't hold her mama, she couldn't reassure her father. I'm okay, I'm here, I didn't leave.

But she did. And it's so strange, that they are not alone, but she is.

She watched them mourn, and age, and she watched as they got sent to live with their niece because they couldn't do it alone anymore.

And all she could do was float.

It didn't take long for a new couple to move in, small child in arms and wonder in their eyes at the start of a new life.

The child got what was once her own room.

She watched the child one night, a little asian baby with fresh sprouts of hair and a round face. It woke up and stared right through her. She watched its face contort as tears welled and she scrambled to shush it.

"Shh, shh, don't cry! It's okay, you're okay."

But the first wale escaped anyway.

Not knowing if it could hear her, she began to sing.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word

I'm gonna buy you a mockingbird..

If that mocking bird don't sing

I'm gonna buy you a diamond ring...

Slowly, though she knows her voice must be unsettling, it began to calm, watching as she vocalized after being silent for so long.

When he turned three they placed a mirror in the room. She had avoided mirrors, unsettled by her ghostly reflection. She was a strange color, even more distorted for the living world. She never could get used to herself.

But it's around then that the child began telling its parents about "The Girl in the Mirror" who sings it lullabies. Only for its parents brush it off after a bit of being concerned.

She doesn't know why only the child can see her, she doesn't feel like thinking about it too much. What's the point?

After a year, he got used to her, having accepted her in that way children his age do. He even began to talk to her.

"What's your favorite color?"

She hadn't thought about it in so long.

"Green." She had said, unsure on whether that were true.

What she does know is that, soon after, she found herself drawn towards green things, the color seeming all the more vibrant.

"What's your favorite animal?"

"I like how cats can see me."

And she does. They make her feel less alone.

She watched him come back from his first day of kindergarten, all smiles and laughter at the new experience. She doesn't remember being that happy about school, the routine got old quite quickly.

She found herself smiling as he did. She wishes she could love school like that again. She wishes she could love her room as he loves it.

At least she loves green and cats.

When he turned ten, he started asking more complex questions. He was silent when he came home from school, a frown on his face as he watched her in the mirror. She always had to face the mirror and look at him through there, else he was basically talking to the back of her head.

"What's the matter?" She asked, vaguely aware of how genuine her concern really was.

"You're real, aren't you?"

"Yes." She thinks she is.

"I had thought you were my imaginary friend, like every says. But you're not imaginary. You're a ghost. You're dead."

"I am."

A week later, he asked her while doing homework on his bed, "Is it weird that I find that comforting? That you're dead? It gives me answers not many other people have."

"I think it's nice that you see it that way."

"I'm glad we're friends."

The room feels less cold.

When he turned thirteen he came to her with tears in his eyes. Middle school had taken a toll on him. He didn't fit in in many places, but he clings to the friends that he has. But something else is wrong.

"How old were you when you died?"

She frowns. She's always avoided thinking about it, what had actually happened to her is fuzzy in her mind.

"Not much older than you are now, I don't think. Thirteen, maybe fourteen."

That didn't help him. He laid face down on his bed and cried. Sobbing.

"What's so wrong with that?"

"You died so young," he said, having caught his breath. "You're my friend, I guess I'm mourning the life you never had."

"It's my job to mourn my life, not yours. What was out there for me, anyway?"

"I'll have to let you know."

He's sixteen, telling about highschool and his friends, telling her about his first ex and the extra workload from AP classes and thinking about college that's so far yet so close. Things she's never had to think about.

"I don't think I've ever told you this. And it might be strange, now that I'm so much older than you. But, you're really pretty."

She stared at him, not knowing what to say.

"You never smile. I've never seen you smile...on such a young face, it breaks my heart."

She rolled her eyes. "You barley smiled at thirteen, either. And I did smile once- when you entered kindergarten, you were so excited for it."

"What color was your room when you lived here?"

She looked around at the sage green walls. "Exactly as it is now."

That seemed to make him happy.

When he comes home from his graduation, it suddenly strikes her how young she is. She feels so much older. She hasn't experienced anything beyond these walls for her to even be able to say her soul is truly eighteen years older. She's just the spirit of a little girl and the life experience to match.

Thirteen. Even then, she felt Iike she was dying. She knows that she stopped being truly happy at some point in that year. Why, or when, or of that could have changed, she will never know. She doesn't know what happened to her parents. Are they also stuck in whatever house they died in? Have they died, yet?

She's brought out of her thoughts by him walking in, cap in hand as he sits, looking into the mirror.

"I'm going to be leaving for college."

She frowns.

"I don't...I don't want you to be here, left alone."

She thinks about this.

"I... appreciate that you care for me." And she does. It's strange to her, to feel something other than empty. But she has for a while now. She's loved how she loves the color of her room, she loves staring into the eyes of the cat that he begged his parents to get not too long after finding out she likes them. She loves talking to him and feeling seen. This friendship that's made her smile. That made her come to terms with her own death as she watched him mourn a life he never knew.

She regrets how this shows in her voice.

"But don't worry about me."

She looked at his dresser, organized with deodorant, a Tennis trophy, and a dolphin figurine. "I never could keep mine clean, you know? I was such a mess, I only got worse as I got older. I still am, really. I don't know what happened to my parents. The baby I sang to is now older than me. I am...broken. I am obviously not whole. And if I could cry, I think I would.

"But I like that. I feel warm, and solid. I feel more alive than I can remember being since I was ten. I'm here, and I know little things about me that I hadn't known to think about until you asked. I'm grateful to you. I didn't get to go to highschool, or think about college. I don't know very much. I want you to have that. Maybe I'll find company in your parents and learn how to be happy next."

It's then that she notices that he's crying.

"One day, we'll figure out how to free you."

She doesn't know what to say to that.

#tumblr writing workshop with betts #tumblr writing workshop week 2 #death #tw death #life #depression #tw depression #I missed the first week #this was fun #I haven't written ghosts yet #writing prompts

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egyptianhoney · 6 months

Text

The girl with the rose tattoo

Earlier this year, I made a spontaneous appointment with my favourite tattoo artist to get two small pieces done. Growing up, I always knew I wanted tattoos, so I would keep ongoing lists of ideas or inspirations scattered across notebooks and post-its. I classically promised myself that I would only get a tattoo once I wanted it for over a year.

I broke that promise with my first tattoo. My close friend made an appointment with a very coveted Toronto artist and we took that opportunity to get semi-matching tattoos. Same design, different colours and placement. A somewhat shared ornament, on my right arm and on his left knee.

I continued to break that promise. I started collecting tattoos like souvenirs, as if I was a Christmas tree adorning myself with different trinkets I gathered across different times, places, or eras of my life. Up until a couple of years ago, I had never really thought about a tattoo for more than a couple of weeks—if even. Most of my tattoos were designs I decided on the day of, browsing through artists’ flash. It seemed that a successful, non-regrettable tattoo was one with the least amount of meaning. The more meaning-less, the better.

One cold winter day in 2021, me and my partner at the time randomly decided to get semi-matching tattoos. Looking back, this situation was so proverbially wrong, and at the time I was actually very uneasy with the idea. I was reassured by the fact that the tattoos would be, again, semi-matching ornaments devoid of real meaning. When we were discussing placements with our artist during the shared appointment, my partner suddenly had a change of heart and asked, “Why don’t we just get matching tattoos?”

The problem with my partner’s question was that it seemed to be a trap. Presently, I’m aware that I should have stuck to my initial hard boundary, but at 21-years-old I caved when faced with her follow-up, “Do you not trust us?”

We got the tattoos and broke up two years later.

Right after we broke up, I started healing from that heartbreak by making my first appointment with my now-favourite tattoo artist to modify said-matching tattoo. I didn’t want to cover it up because I wanted to learn from those experiences and honour my embodied mistake. I chose to add a border, giving my artist complete free reign. Now, it is no longer matching.

After that traumatizing but enlightening experience, I began to wonder whether my spontaneous and free-spirited attitude towards tattooing was what initially trapped me in that uncomfortable situation. Upon much reflection, I developed a new rule for myself—out of respect for my body, my new tattoos all needed to be meaningful and well-thought out. In practice, I primarily searched for meaning in my culture, through designs that referenced traditional Arab/North African motifs, such as present in rugs or in art. As a Syrian-Egyptian young woman trying to carve a place in a world that has always taught me to minimize myself, I developed the opinion that the only way to respect my body in my tattoo journey was by honouring my ancestors and their tattooing practices. What better way to ‘decolonize the mind’ as Frantz Fanon (1961) theorized, than by reclaiming my body through its ornaments. This was a stark departure from my initial philosophy, as I now believed that respecting my body manifested through restricting myself to more ‘meaningful’ tattoos, particularly cultural ones.

But, earlier this year, when I made that spontaneous appointment with my favourite tattoo artist for those two small pieces, I was faced with a dilemma: I didn’t only want ‘meaningful’ tattoos anymore. I wanted a rose behind my ear and cherries on my right hip. I just wanted to have fun again, chasing the high from my first impromptu appointment. I wanted something sexy, fun, youthful, and most importantly, I wanted to be spontaneous again.

Anyone who has gotten a tattoo before can attest to how deep the conversations get when you’re laying down for hours with your artist hunched over your bare body in the most uncomfortable positions, stabbing you endlessly with a machine-powered needle.

So during my appointment for the rose behind my ear and the cherries on my right hip, I was explaining my thought process to my artist, how I wanted to stop thinking about ‘my body as a temple,’ and restricting myself to just what I would deem as ‘meaningful’ or ‘cultural’ tattoos. They asked,

“Well, what makes a tattoo meaningful?”

This question never really occurred to me. By focusing on cultural tattoos specifically, was I replicating the same colonial thought processes by creating a category of ‘cultural’ tattoos that was unchanging, fixed in time, and static? Even though I did extensive research on motifs before affixing them on my body permanently, did I fall into the same colonial psychological traps that I was trying to overcome? In my quest for meaning, was I actually just using tattoos as means to neglect the fact that I was still healing from the embodied trauma of my relationship? Is that why I suddenly became scared of my once-celebrated spontaneity?

Is my body actually just a ‘temple’ adorned with art that I find beautiful, and that’s what makes it meaningful? Is there deeper meaning behind the seemingly meaningless? Is the rose behind my ear, the cherries on my hip, or the first semi-matching tattoo I got with my friend, actually all meaningful tattoos too?

We moved on to other conversations, but I couldn’t get those questions out of my mind. More importantly, I realized that my different contrasting quests for meaning(less) tattoos were futile, because in reality, my tattoos all had meaning simply because, at a moment in time, I found them beautiful enough to place on my body permanently. The tattoos are all in some way a testament to myself. And that is the best way I can honour my ancestors—by loving and decorating this body that I inherited.

In a beautiful coincidence, my dear friend and I discovered that we have the same symbol tattooed. I often find coincidental matching tattoos in ‘the wild,’ especially with my small eye piece on my inner left arm. And every time I meet another person with the same tattoo as me, I point it out.

During the summer, I was drunkenly showing a stranger my two new tattoos, when he said, “You know every girl has that tattoo behind her ear right?”

I replied, “I know.” and I’m proud to be like every other girl who has a rose behind her ear, or cherries on her hip. I’m proud to share tattoos with thousands of others before me, because it is so wonderful how we all collectively found the same image beautiful enough to memorialize on our physical selves.

My tattoos have meaning simply because I find them beautiful.

#tattoos #girl #tattooed

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kfans-writerblog · 1 year

Text

너를 위해

Last time I did a sad and scary one so for the weather let's do a sad one give us some chills

Chanyeol couldn't reach you for 4 weeks he got worried and contacted the police with some help of detectives .

He was scared and he called "sehun can you come over your my best friend I need company "

"Hyung for real tho I am busy ask kai he's filming tiktoks he's not busy go bother him "

"Sigh ok then 😔 "

He texted kai to come over his house

Kai agreed and went over to his house

He ringed the bell chanyeol opend it and

He took off his shoes and washed his hands

Chanyeol sat down looking at couple photos in the photo album you both made he tear up

"Hyung it's ok I'm sure the police will find her don't cry y/n doesn't like to see you cry "

"Kai do you know why I like y/n "

Kai shook his head no

"She's very mature but at the same time very pure and cute she also like to try my rap lines in her spare time " he started to cry and hug kai

"I want her back and safe " the door bell rang and knock "delivery !"

Kai went to pay and grab the food

And put it on the kitchen table suddenly chanyeol got a call and he's excited to pick up

"Hello y/n is it you please answer me !?"

"Sorry sir it's police calling "

His heart droped sinking scared

Kai patted his back "sir we found your girlfriends wallet on namsan tower "

"What! No way she doesn't even .. know how to get there her self "

" is your girlfriend y/n kim "

"Yes yes it is !"

"Unfortunately we also found a dead body under the building level 34 please come at seoul hospital to confirm its your girlfriend "

He ended the call and dropped on the floor

"Kai .... they said they found y/ns body "

Kai cries because you were best friends with him "hyung let's go, please. I want to know. I don't want it to be her. We have to know !"

He grabbed his slippers and went to the hospital "I'm here for confirming a dead body "

The nurses said "ms kim y/n ?" They nod

And chanyeol and kai went in and pulls down the cover and it is you laying down dead

Kai cries unstoppable chanyeol cries

He signs the agreement to have the items back to keep it "y/n who did this to you tell me "

He kissed your freezing cold hand

Your soul left your body and hug the both of them and followed them back to the company

Rest of the members are there and chanyeol told them suho cried so much you were like a little sister to him he can't belive why that would happen the only person didn't cry was sehun

Chanyeol went home hugging a photobook

"Oppa it was sehun " you wisper in his ear and he woke up

Chanyeol went to the police station and told them everything but they didn't belive him

Later on the police found out sehun and you (y/n) went on a fight because of you were telling him the dance moves weren't right and he got so mad

The police talked to sehun

"Guys I have a bad temper every guy dose at least everyone knows I have a bad temper "

Police - "that's why you pushed her off the building !? To get revenge! Is it mr oh sehun! "

"Reply to our questions!"

"No I was with baekhyun hyung we were practicing all night 7pm to 3am "

Police "from now on you have to stay here for 48 hours until later notice "

He roll his eyes

The police called baekhyun in

Baekhyun "why am I here I didn't do anything y/n is my best friend I would never hurt her !"

Police "is it true you were with Mr oh sehun last night !?

Baekhyun "no I was with xiumin and chen we had to do a recording "

Police nods "noted and any suspicious about sehun lately "

Baekhyun " nothing much but he gotten much pickier and more clean also he wakes up alot "

Police "thanks for working with us you may go now "

Then the police took sehun to change

"OH sehun under arrest for murder 2 years in prison "

Sehun fights with them "no I'm a idol I can't go to prison F××× all of you police "

Police called chanyeol

"Mr park chanyeol we found the murder of your girlfriend now he is sentenced 2 years in prison fined 20.000.00 won "

Chanyeol got mixed emotions

He drove to the police station

He asked the police if he can see the killer and it was true it was sehun who killed you

And chanyeol got so mad

And punches sehun grabbed him by his neck

"Why did you kill her !!? What did she do to you !? She was nice to all of us why did you do that "

The police grabbed chanyeol to stop him

And sehun said "She keeps correcting me I hate it she always bother me when gaming she disses me "

Chanyeol got so mad and he left and went home

All the members got the news and felt so bad

Suho went to chanyeols house and comfort him

Then you kissed his forehead before you left

He cried "y/n I should've looked after you I'm so sorry "

Then you cross over going to heaven after doing the last thing you wished for

"Suho I felt it y/n was here but now she crossed over went to heaven "

Suho sigh and patted his back

"Whatever you need let me know chanyeol I will always be here for you . We will take a few weeks of so we can pay respect for y/n "

And after your death suho saw chanyeols first smile

"Thanks hyung I will pack up and plan her funeral"

Suho nods "take your time "

Then chanyeol put you in a coffin and has a note with a picture with you on the side

Letter : I love you y/n I hope you will never forget me toben and zzar will always remember you love - your sweet bf yeolie❤️

#exo #korean #kpop #spotify #ff #exo imagine #chanyeol

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evaemiel · 4 months

Text

The Ghosts - week 7 of #alphabetsuperset

back to the usual programming

There’s a reluctant light coming through the blinds when I wake. It’s very early still, the softest twilight of the not-yet-morning. My dreams stretch out their spindly limbs to catch onto whatever part of the waking world they can. Here and there, the fabric of reality shows tiny rips, allowing dark, oozing subconscious to push through. But the bathroom calls, so I get up and fumble blindly to find my slippers. It’s cold, and the floor is even colder; I better make this quick. Two steps out of bed, and something about how the blackness wraps itself around my vision has me feeling wary.

It’s one of those nights.

It doesn’t take long for me to spot the first one. Good old Shade. Lamp shade, Shady, Shaders, etc. As per usual, she’s hanging out a couple of steps behind me. There’s no point in me looking her way; she’s nothing but a deep shadow, untethered from her surroundings; no discerning features, no face, no clothes, nothing. And she’s a real screamer too—nothing like a bit of extended eye contact to make her blast you with a bone-rattling cry that has your heart beating a million times per minute. So I keep my eyes in front of me, but I acknowledge her presence with a soft “hey babe,” and I keep going.

I sit down on the toilet and close my eyes while resting my head against the icy tiled wall to my right. It’s an attempt to keep me drowsy enough to fall asleep easily once I return to bed while simultaneously staying awake enough to not do anything stupid. You know, like talking to ghosts.

Not even 30 seconds in, and I can hear soft scratches at the door. I ignore them at first, but then it jumps to making mini splashes in the toilet’s water tank. I sigh and give in, looking behind me. Obviously, there’s nothing there. I figure that’s the end of it, but when I open the door, I can see a blur of movement near the floor. I finish washing my hands and want to move back in the direction of the bedroom when I hear scratching again, this time coming from the back. It’s loud too, which is unusual for Scritch; it prefers to hide itself in small spaces and make little noises here and there, just enough to be seen on occasion, but never so often that it doesn’t have plausible deniability.

My curiosity wins out, and I stumble further down the hallway. Scritch is sitting on the floor in plain sight. I notice it’s gotten smaller again. It used to be the size of a Rottweiler, but the years have chipped away at its presence, and now it’s no bigger than a rat. It moves like a rat too. It figures it has my attention, and it slips into the back room, briefly making the cat flap open and close before I can vaguely see it run into the garden. It disappears under one of the shrubs near the back wall.

As I try to follow where it went, I see a familiar shape near the summer lilac: a man wearing a long, classic-cut coat and a non-descript hat. His face appears like a painting — an amalgamation of crude brush strokes and drips of sallow color added by a palette knife. One big smear seems to suggest a thick mustache; a hint of ocher gold could be the frame of a pince-nez. As always, he looks up into the sky, gazing at the paltry stars above us. I step outside and glance up briefly; I don’t remember ever seeing the firmament so clearly and so abundantly; it usually never is in the city. “Guess I’m still dreaming, huh.” Stargazer eyes me, two dark spots shifting right under the brim of his hat, and nods, then shrugs. I’m wondering what that is supposed to mean when he points back at the house.

His wheezing voice forces out the words with great effort, “There’s… another — one — here.” At this point, Scritch emerges from underneath the summer lilac, wrestling itself into all sorts of erratic shapes. Even Shade appears in the frame of the back door and seems hell bent on getting herself into my view, which is immediately unsettling in the worst way. She doesn’t scream, but there’s an uncharacteristic guttural sound coming from somewhere inside her two dimensional shape.

I take the hint and try to walk as briskly as I can past Shade, praying to the gods of sleep that she won’t freak out on me. I count my lucky stars when I reach the door and feel her presence floating behind me at a safe distance; the sound stops too. Oddly enough, the two others seem to follow me as well.

Walking back down the hallway, I give every shadow a sideways look, but nothing seems out of place. Nothing that makes my chest contract or the hairs on my neck stand on end. It’s only when Stargazer appears beside me and gasps out a barely audible “there —” that I see them too.

They’re sitting on the sofa in the living room, back straight, with their head bent downward as if reading. When I move closer, I can see that they are indeed holding a book. Never seen a ghost do that before. They turn around, and the deep lines on their face fold into a peaceful smile. I recognize them at once, and a hot fear grips me.

“Please don’t run.” Their voice is confusingly familiar. Of course I was going to run. Of course they would know that.

They wait for me to make a decision, and so I do; I stand still and do nothing. They let their fingers tap rhythmically on the cover of the book. I look at it, and they look at it. Their face lights up, and they only say “yes.” I think I understand.

“I’m only here to say this; the time is now, always now. Remember that.” They smirk; I get the reference. Of course they would know that.

Before I have time to respond, a flurry of blue light passes by the window, twirling strings of color that temporarily fill the room and my eyes. Then the ambulance is gone as fast as it came. I blink and find myself awake, in front of my couch, at four AM, with no ghosts in sight.

I inhale slowly, trying to calm my brain while also clutching at any memories of what just happened; otherwise it’ll all be gone come morning. As I stand there, the cold catches up to me again, and I’m forced to rush back to my bed, this time with better hand-eye coordination. Lying down, I stare into the dark and repeat every step and every image, locking it into a narrative in my mind. I keep rotating the events in my head until I hear a slight skitter underneath my bed.

“Yeah, I know, you’re right. Goodnight Scritch.” I sigh and roll myself into my blanket. “And sweet dreams to the rest of you”, I add silently before falling into the deep abyss again.

Credit Image – To All Appearances, It Has a Hand of Flesh and Blood Just Like My Own (1896) by Odilon Redon. Original from The MET museum. Used under CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication Font – Bungee font family. Used under SIL Open Font License

#writing #writeblr #alphabet superset #short story #ghosts

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