#kieran was making them miserable. not the other way around. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatbrightblueshine · 8 months

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@new-berry inspired me here. all fiction trippier / pope under the cut.

harsh one to take for sure, losing to the red side of liverpool at home so early into the season, with all the confidence they had, crucial one. two games lost already, 13th on the table. eddie had given them all the instructions they needed, yet it felt like today just wasn't meant to be. kieran was once again one of the last ones on the pitch, applauding to the fans, liverpool supporters shouting abuse and acting as if they'd just won the prem in the away end. "typical from these lot. bastards." nick spoke as he walked past kieran. "let them have it. still early into the season, they won't get much further. but we will." a confidence booster for kieran, nick always looking at the bright side of things.

a little more time had passed and the lads would eventually leave the pitch, walking into the tunnel together. kieran pulled his shirt over his head, his captains band still stuck to his arm, which nick noticed. "you're just being a tease now" kieran looked confused into his direction until nick pointed to his arm "oh. no, you take it off then." nick shook his head. "nah. looks good on you, captain." he said with a wink, suggestive in a way. alexander eventually joined in "heard sven's alright. maybe a knock but nothing too bad." kieran let out a relieving sigh "thank goodness that's great to hear, was proper worried." alexander patted his shoulder as they walked towards the dressing room "you good by the way?" kieran didn't want to upset the others who were already pretty down themselves any more, so he lied straight into alexander's face. "am alright. keeping things positive."

"that's good. it's just two games. we'll come back stronger." kieran gave him a half smile in response, taking the other way as the rest of the team walked into the dressing room. all but nick, who joined him. "you're proper down, aren't you?" he asked looking down to kieran, him once again noticing nick's towering height. "well aren't YOU?" he asked, finally taking the band off his arm in frustration. nick smiled. "i conceded two when i felt confident about us winning already, and that to bloody nuñez. fucks sake, of course i'm not happy about the result." kieran stopped and grabbed nick's arm, dragging the band all the way up to his bicep. "you're our leader now. you deserve it more than me today." that gesture put a smile onto nick's face, but made him feel miserable at the same time, seeing the very clear devastation in kieran's face. he lifted his hand and cupped kieran's cheek, his hand covering half of his face. "i know something that could cheer you up." kieran leaned into nick's hand, resisting the urge to take his thumb into his mouth. "oh yeah, what's it then?"

"i'm gonna show you, actually." nick smiled, dragging kieran along with him until they had reached the trainers room at the end of the corridor. "oh i can guess where this goes from here." kieran said with a smirk on his face, nick pushing the door knob down, hoping for it to be unlocked. the pair was in luck, taking one last look around to make sure no one was around to see them sneaking in. once in, nick shut the door behind them as quietly as possible, hitting the light switch. as soon as the door was shut, nick found himself with kieran's arms wrapped around the much taller man, his lips immediately connected to nick's. kieran's tongue was eager to get into his mouth, his hands travelling up to his neck to pull him down even more. nick pulled away "slow down. i'm the one who wants to make you feel better" kieran's eyes got dark "we don't have much time until the others notice that we're not there, eddie will be furious with his captain not being in room." nick chuckled "oh so you'd rather have him over me then?"

"oh shut up, let's do what we came here to do, eh?" nick didn't hesitate, in a bit of a hurry he pushed kieran's half naked body down an armchair, taking his shirt off, too. for a moment, nick felt so powerful, the much smaller man in such a vulnerable position underneath him, and kieran could read his mind just by looking at the expression on nick's face. nick couldn't get too distracted, not getting hard now although kieran's much innocent and upset expression made him want to take his cock out and have kieran get his hands and mouth on it. but nick wanted to be the one doing well today, besides there was no time for the two of them to get off.

nick kneeled down, taking kieran's face into his hands once more, squishing his cheeks a little, running his hand through his curly, short hair. wished he'd grown it a little longer again, he loved the feeling of it. teasing. "will you stop looking so upset already?" nick asked, kieran now pulling a face on purpose. "make me happy then?" nick wanted to get right to business but couldn't resist tasting kieran's lips once more - salty from the sweat, a little bloody from when he bit on his lip earlier when falling on the pitch. he loved his taste, unique. nick's mouth wandered down to his neck, so hard to resist the urge to leave a mark there, his hands making their way down his body, brushing over his tattooed skin. his inked chest, nick's mouth trailing along it, over his stomach until he had reached his trousers.

nick hooked his fingers into each side and pulled them down, his boxers along with it until they were down to his feet, kieran kicking them off. kieran allowed his body to sink even deeper into the chair, getting comfortable as nick began working his mouth on him. nick was good with his mouth, kieran thought he was a lot gentler than fabian, who was rough. he liked it rough sometimes, liked having his teammates take control. but not today, therefore he was happy it was nick who insisted on making him feel better. he spread his legs further apart, giving nick full access. he started with his tip, giving it just the right amount of attention until kieran was fully hard, which is when nick began working his hand on him.

hand on the base of his cock, he would let his mouth go up and down, not too far down his throat, not wanting to gag. in comparison to the size of his body, kieran's cock was a lot bigger than one would expect, and he didn't want to gag. every once and again, his hand would replace his mouth, slipping in and out of his palm easily, so wet that the sound of it would fill up the whole room. nick would open his mouth and let his spit drop onto kieran, mixing up with precum that was now beginning to leak from his tip, nick immediately bending over again to have a taste. "greedy." kieran remarked under his breath. nick knew that he wouldn't last long anymore, kieran's breath turning heavy, his chest even sweatier than before. he just tried to capture the moment, taking it all in. nick's hands on each side of kieran's thighs, every now and then finding their way up his body, his spit spreading all over his chest, turning cold on his body. the sight of kieran's cock in his mouth, poking his cheek, a single tear running down nick's face as he took him down his throat just a little too far, kieran was so close. his captains band was still around nick's arm, kieran eventually pulling it as he came closer.

they were running out of time, despite having only been away from the others for perhaps 5 minutes, if felt like an eternity. nick stopped suddenly to kiss up kieran's body once more, licking his exposed nipples, a small moan escaping from his mouth that was immediately drowned out by another kiss of nick. he had his hand on him now, jerking his cock until he knew that he was close. "want to come in my mouth? you're in charge now." kieran nodded and grabbed nick by his hair to push his face downwards his body again. nick took him back into his mouth, slowly now. nick had ignored his own cock for too long, pretty sure he'd come into his pants soon. but this wasn't about him - it was all about kieran. he'd just have to get himself off in the bathroom after all this.

kieran was now close, in the heat of the moment he grabbed his hair tighter, forcing nick to take his cock all the way in, rocking his hips into his face until nick could barely breathe, his legs wrapped around his back, when he did manage to somehow pull away, breathless, coughing up a ridiculous amount of spit and precum, all bubbly. "i said into my mouth, not down my throat." kieran smiled "okay. let me get up then." he got up, placing himself in front of nick, beginning to jerk himself off. "open your mouth." nick did as he was told, opening wide. kieran's other hand reached down to the back of his head, down to where nick had his hair shaved short, enjoying the view of the taller man on his knees, so obedient. it only took kieran a few more pumps from his fist until he came all over nick's tongue, breath now as heavy as ever, eyes forced shut, trying to stay as quite as possible. his cum eventually ran out of his mouth and bit of it dripping onto his bare chest, what a lovely view that was to kieran.

when he was all done nick got back up and wiped some of kieran's cum off his mouth and his chest using kieran's shirt, unable to resist one final kiss. "i don't taste so bad, why'd you not just swallow?" kieran asked with a smirk. "you almost choked me, can't just suffocate on your cock. how would we explain that to the others?"

kieran couldn't resist but laugh at that. "we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. next time."

"so ... did i make you feel a little better then?" kieran smiled. "much better."

#rambles #kieran trippier #nick pope

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spoookfest · 1 year

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just one yesterday by fallout boys is something that resonates with kieran duitsman. the nurse at glen ellen general hospital is glen ellen's very own l.a reject, who has been in town for nineteen years. while they are only forty, they can be very sarcastic but if their friends mentioned them, you'd think they were more patient. in a town where every one knows everyone, it's hard to keep a secret, but i think the killer knows that [ ? ? ? ], and it's bound to get out sometime soon. i wonder if the killer also thinks of constantly wondering what could have been, always getting misjudged due to resting mean face & setting 5+ alarms and hitting snooze on them all like i do, when i think of them.

𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋.

full name: kieran alexander duitsman

nicknames:

age: 40 years old

gender, pronouns: cis man, he/him

sexuality: bisexual

occupation: nurse at glen ellen general hospital

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇.

triggers!! none

⥼ kieran has always had an interest in music - since he was able to stand (even if he wobbled), he was bouncing around to music. his father got him his first guitar at 14 and the rest is history

⥼ after graduating, kieran headed for la and didn't look back; he was 19 at the time and had big, big dreams. he was going to be your typical 'small town boy with big city dreams' success story even if it killed him!! . . . . and it almost did

⥼ on his 21st birthday, he decided to call it quits. as badly as it hurt to leave his dream behind, kieran also knew that he needed to be realistic. he didn't go back home though. he was too afraid to face his sick mother - who he had promised to make it big while in l.a. - and let her know he broke his promise. instead, he decided to just drive. eventually he stumbled upon glen ellen and ultimately decided to stay

⥼ aside from music, kieran has also loved helping people. this meant that his other career option that wouldn't make him totally miserable was something that helped others. so, he decided to go to nursing school and become a nurse

⥼ present day, kieran is painfully normal. he sleeps, he works, he hangs out with friends. the recent murder definitely has him worried about something more coming from it but until something happens, he's not going to think too much about it. let's hope something - or someone - comes in and shakes things up for him

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒.

⥼ the one that got away, 0/1: you and kieran originally met in l.a. when he was trying to make it at age 19 - 21. at first he was hopeful and slowly you watched his lifelong dream slip out of the palm of his hands. even though you both had grown to love each other, kieran left the city without a word. as time went on, you two found yourself in the same town.. small world! (note: what happened to them / their relationship when they found each other again can be plotted!!)

⥼ the frequent patient, 0/1: you always seem to be in kieran's hospital bed for one reason or the other. you two have gotten to know each other quite well and he's actually started to expect to see you throughout the week

⥼ the casual hookup, 0/1: (30+ only) neither of you remember when or why you started hooking up but it never seemed to stop. both of you are having fun with it . . . but will feelings eventually start get in the way?

⥼ the best friend, 0/1: you are kieran's ride or die & vice versa. you know he's just a few clicks away if you ever need anything - no matter how big or small - and you also know that he'd drop what he's doing to help you out. you've seen each other at your best and at your worst and still love each other unconditionally. he doesn't sing or play his guitar as much these days but he'll always play for you when you ask

⥼ anything and everything!! please plot with me ♡

#bludsintro

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

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Am I forgotten ? (KitTy Fan Fic)

KitTy fan fic based on Kit and Ty’s flower cards (art by Cassandra Jean), to celebrate both the release of Ty’s latest flower card and Kitty’s appreciation week!

If you prefer reading it on AO3 or if you have missed the previous chapters, Link is here. AO3 Link - Am I forgotten?

Following Chapter is Chapter 6 - Lex malla, lex nulla

Kit and Ty did not make it far, as three Faeries suddenly appeared before them, blocking their path. As it was the case for Ty, to stay they stood out of the crowd was an understatement. The one standing in the middle was the tallest and the most elegantly clad. Dark velvet clothes with fine embroidery hugged the shapes of his lean body, the symbol of a broken crown visible on his silk shirt. He had long silvery blond hair framing his narrow face and tucked behind his pointy ears, and his deep blue eyes seemed to hold centuries of life in this world. He would have been stunning if not for the permanent scowl on his face. The other two, flanking him, had long dark hair and looked so alike they might have been twins. It was clear from their stance that they were Faerie knights.

Ty turned to Kit and whispered urgently. “That’s him. I need to interrogate him. Preferably without his two bodyguards.”

“Well met,” Kit said in his most cheerful voice.

“Well met,” the blond Faerie replied. “It seems as though you have lost your way.”

“Wrong,” Kit said. “I was lost, but I have been found.”

Ty shot him a disapproving look. The Faerie lifted a silvery eyebrow.

Kit dropped Ty’s hand to move his arm behind his back, slowly tracing his fingers along Ty’s side down to his hip until they finally rested on Ty’s… buttocks. He gently squeezed for added effect. God, how perfect. Ty startled, his eyes widening and his lips parting in shock, but made no further move. He was staring straight ahead, as if he could not bear to meet Kit’s eyes. A deep red had started to spread across his cheeks towards his temples.

The Faerie’s eyes had not missed the gesture and the scowl vanished from his face from one moment to another.

“Let me guess,” he said, his gaze moving between Kit and Ty. A genuine smile spread across his face. “You two are only here to have a good time.”

“Wrong again. We were here to have a good time, but my boyfriend is not feeling well. This place is too noisy, too… crowded. We are leaving.”

“Are you now?” The Faerie said, lifting both his eyebrows. His eyes, glittering with interest, were now roaming over Kit’s body. “The night is still young, and so are you. May I offer you some refreshments in a more private venue?”

Kit plastered a hesitant look on his face. “We are far from home. It would be nice if we could get our bearings before we leave.” The Faerie’s smile grew wider and, without a word, he whirled and started to move gracefully towards the back of the club, flanked by his two bodyguards. Kit and Ty followed.

“So, who is this guy?” Kit whispered in Ty’s ear, after - regretfully - dropping his arm from his back.

“A Faerie Prince. One of King Kieran’s many brothers. He was very close to the late King Arawn once.”

“Wow, wait a minute- a Prince ? How many laws are we planning to break tonight?”

“Twenty-seven,” Ty replied without blinking.

Kit whistled.

Ty turned to him, his eyes glittering, and the corner of his mouth lifted mischievously. “Lex malla, lex nulla,” he said in a deep, low voice. Kit couldn’t help but stare at Ty, at the way his soft lips shaped the words, gently pressing around the “M”, at the way his tongue rolled in his mouth at the “Ls”.

He had always thought Ty was beautiful, but right now the word that popped in his mind was HOT. So freaking HOT.

Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, you naughty boy.

“What about your vows as a Centurion?” Kit asked when he had regained his composure.

“A good Centurion once told me that vows of friendship… and love are stronger.”

Did Kit imagine the way Ty put an emphasis on the word love ?

****

They were seated in a very large high-ceilinged room, with no windows save for a glass roof through which one could see New York’s night sky.

A vampire waitress came in carrying flutes of champagne and presented them to Kit and Ty. They both declined.

“I am fine,” said the Faerie Prince, when she offered him a drink. He didn’t even bother to look up at her. His gaze was fixed on Kit and Ty, and a small smile was playing across his face, as if he were enjoying a private joke. “I am already drunk with the sexual tension between these two.”

Kit couldn’t help but look over at Ty, and their eyes met for a second before they both swiftly glanced away.

“The two of you haven’t done the deed yet, have you?” The Faerie Prince’s eyes were now sparkling with excitement. “When you do..." He opened both his hands and spread his long fingers wide, mimicking an explosion... or was it fireworks? "I am willing to pay a fortune to witness that. Name your price.”

Kit glanced at the bodyguards. They were looking at Kit and Ty with a stern expression on their faces, as if it hadn’t all been a show. It had been a joke, right? But… Faeries didn’t lie.

Kit stood. “Can we have a moment alone together? Just you and me.” He looked pointedly at the bodyguards. “I would prefer to discuss... the terms, privately.”

As if they had received a signal, the two knights started to move to stand before the Prince, who lifted his hand in a halting gesture as he paused to consider. They both froze.

Kit seized the opportunity. With slow, deliberate movements, he started to take his jacket off. He threw it on the nearest armchair. “You will see that I am unarmed.” He took his shirt off next, the muscles of his arms flexing as he lifted it leisurely over his head. When he was half naked, he spread his arms wide. “You can ask your knights to check the rest if you don’t believe me. I have nothing to hide.”

They did. As their hands moved over Kit’s body in search of weapons, Ty tensed. He was watching their every move, his fiery gaze fixed on their hands, as if he could burn a hole through them.

“Leave us,” said the Faerie Prince when they were done.

Ty rose from his armchair and moved to stand before Kit, his back to the Faerie Prince.

“Kit- I don't like this plan,” he said in a hushed, urgent voice. Kit noticed with a pang that he had started stroking his pendant again.

“Ty- Please, trust me. I know what I’m doing,” Kit replied.

Ty held Kit’s gaze for a moment, searching his eyes. Kit tried very hard to convey a message of confidence he wasn’t sure he really had.

Ty finally gave him a curt, stiff nodd. As he moved past Kit, the back of their hands brushed, sending an electric current through Kit’s entire body.

Kit didn’t trust himself not to go running to Ty, so he stared straight ahead until he heard the door close behind him.

When they were alone, the Faerie Prince rose from his chair. “Finally."

In two strides of his long legs, he had joined Kit and stood before him, so close Kit could feel his breath over his skin. He smelled of cloves. The Prince lifted his hands to place them on each of Kit’s biceps.

“You love him,” he said without preamble.

Kit swallowed hard. “Is it that obvious?”

“The question you are asking yourself is, does he love you?”

“I know he doesn’t.” Kit tried to hide the despair in his voice but failed miserably.

The Faerie Prince lifted his silver eyebrows. “You know? Are you so powerful as to be able to read one’s heart?”

“He said as much. Or at least, that's what his words suggested. I don’t want to talk about it.” Kit had no intention to share his deepest feelings with a mere stranger. A Faerie Prince at that. There’s nothing if you aren’t there. Words meant for Livvy alone and no one else, especially not Kit. After all these years, they still stung as if they were new. A raw pain for an old wound.

“You make an interesting couple, the two of you,” said the Faerie after a moment. “The Shadowhunter who looks like a Faerie and... the Faerie who looks like a Shadowhunter.”

Kit gasped audibly. The Prince’s hands were now moving in circles over Kit’s bare chest, smooth fingers caressing his skin.

“You thought I would not be able to recognize my own kin? My own blood? I see him in you, you know… My father.”

Kit was unable to move, staring in shock as the Faerie’s long fingers started tracing the shapes of his abs. Distantly, he thought he heard the door open and close. The sound was so muted he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.

“Tell me, Christopher Herondale, who are you loyal to? Your royal blood family? Or your adoptive family?”

Tessa. Jem. Mina. Kit came to his senses and clenched his fists. He knew he didn’t need weapons to fight. The Prince would never know what had hit him. Kit would avoid knocking him out, of course, as Ty needed to interrogate him.

“I tend to stick with those trying to protect me instead of those trying to kill me. That’s how boring I am.”

As it turned out, Kit didn’t even have to lift a finger.

It all happened in a blur. The Faerie Prince’s hands which had moved over Kit's biceps suddenly froze, and his lips parted in shock. Ty had appeared behind him, as swift as a shadow, and was grasping a knife whose silvery blade was pressed against his throat. Ty’s hands were covered in blood… Probably from the two knights.

“I would have a few questions to ask you,” Ty said. His tone was as cold as ice. “But first... take your hands off my boyfriend, before I separate them from your body.”

*****

Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia

#cassandraclare #cassandra clare #cassandra clare fan fiction #tsc fanfiction #tsc fan fiction #kitty tda #kitty fanfiction #kitty blackstairs #the darker the berry the sweeter the juice #the wicked powers #kit herondale #kit herongraystairs #tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #kit and ty

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vegetalass · 4 years

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RDR2 Boys at an Amusement Park

For @viperfizz... Thank you for the suggestion, I loved writing this one!!

Arthur

An amusement park just means a county fair to him. Ain’t no way he’s going to Six Flags or Great America

Okay, that’s a lie, he’d probably go if you begged him to but he wouldn’t be much fun

Total “buy a soda, sit down, and watch everyone else have all the fun” type of guy (but is that really fun?)

You try to take a picture with one of those people in costume and he looks miserable

That being said, he would have fun at a county fair!

He likes that they have animal shows, local business booths, and simpler rides and games

He does his best to try everything but probably gets tired after a couple hours

Spends most of his time after that in the petting zoo or trying all the free samples from food booths

The gang makes him hold all of their stuff… He didn’t win most of it, but he’s carrying around all of Sadie’s prizes, Tilly’s cotton candy bucket and Dutch’s jacket, as well as everything else

Poor guy

S u n s e t F e r r i s W h e e l P i c t u r e s

John

Gets stopped by security on the way in for something stupid like trying to hide a water bottle in his pants

Doesn’t care much for rides but will go on them just because he doesn’t want to waste his ticket

He doesn’t mind the haunted house rides, though, despite usually having to go by himself or with Arthur

If he’s not on a ride, he’s walking around and nobody can ever find him

Abigail makes him take Jack on all the kiddy rides and lowkey he’s not that mad about it because they’re actually pretty fun and it means he doesn’t have to bother with doing anything else

Jack is happy because John gets them a bunch of popcorn and fried food to share after, too

Literally awful at all of the mini games

Challenges Arthur to one of those High Striker strength tests and loses

He’s problematic because he 100% would go to Seaworld

Any souvenir he buys is probably just candy

Definitely falls asleep on the way home

Charles

Funnel cake and candy apple enthusiast

If the park is crowded, he’s the only one who’s ever able to find a place to sit

Probably doesn’t go on many of the scary rides

He’s down for water rides and the pirate swing, though

And laser tag if they have it

Can beat anyone’s ass at bumper cars

If it’s Charles and Arthur against anyone, they better hope that they go easy

Also probably pretty good at most of the mini games, too

He’s the one walking home with a giant plushie he got from playing Skee-Ball (Sadie and Karen have one, too)

The only souvenir he buys is a keychain with his name on it

The gang probably clowns him for it smh

Everyone is too tired at the end of the day so he has to drive home

Honestly, just take him to a boardwalk where he can sit on the beach

Micah

A n n o y i n g

Goes on the scariest ride just so he can brag about being fearless

Also probably buys one of those shirts that’s like “I Survived The Ass Crusher Roller Coaster”

Will try to force you to go with him even if you cry

His favorite type of ride are those old, wooden coasters just because they’re rickety and scary (like him)

Big fan of the gross amusement park food because he’s nasty

Likes all that stuff like fried Oreos, spiral potatoes, and Texas donuts.

Scares kids… probably has to tell at least three different families he wasn’t trying to creep on them and that he’s at the park with his friends

He’s being honest, but the whole gang is like “Uh, we don’t claim him”

Spends like an hour in the gift shop only to buy nothing

Almost gets left behind for it

Hosea

Spends too much time looking at a map of the park and trying to plan out what everyone should do

The gang’s all left by the time he’s finished thinking about it

His favorite amusement park snack is a chocolate-dipped, vanilla ice cream cone

Probably ends up eating like five of them over the course of one day

His reasoning is that he’s “on vacation”

Most likely to throw up if he goes on a ride that goes upside down

His amusement park outfit consists of a straw hat, Hawaiian shirt, khakis, and sandals

Lowkey everyone is embarrassed to be around him dressed like that

Forgets his sunscreen and comes home burnt to a crisp

And when it heals, he has a sandal tan

Has to do a headcount both before and after they go to the park just to make sure he hasn’t lost anyone

“I’m Hosea”

Dutch

Did someone say carnival? No? Yes you did

Likes the merry-go-round and swing rides because he’s a child

The only one to go on the wooden roller coasters with Micah

Honestly, actually the only one to go on rides with Micah

Buys shitty cocktails from the one beach-theme stand at the park and thinks he’s classy for it (even though they’re just margaritas with crazy straws)

Will buy a sweatshirt with the amusement park’s logo on it and wear it the entire time he’s there

It’s either that or a Hawaiian shirt with pineapples on it

He also buys any and all photos of the gang on rides even if they’re $15 each

Probably the guy who wears his hat and sunglasses on Splash Mountain just to pose while Hosea, Arthur, and John are all screaming behind him

Makes a stranger take a photo of the group at the end of the day that doesn’t even fit everyone in the screen and ends up being blurry

“If lost, return to Hosea”

Kieran

Amusement park TRASH

He can and will have fun on anything

One second he’s on a ride with upside down turns and loops, and the next he’s on teacups, and then straight back to drop tower after that

If the amusement park is large, he probably has a game plan of how to do the most in one single day

100% buys dippin’ dots, popcorn and an extra large, souvenir slushee cup with a bendy straw that he uses for the rest of the year

Goes nuts if there’s an arcade section and wins just about a million tickets

Probably doesn’t even cash them in for prizes either and gives them all away

If at Disney, he makes everyone stay for the parade

And yes, he’s wearing Mickey Mouse ears and a lanyard with pins on it

Probably buys a snow globe as a souvenir

Please go with him

Javier

He’s the one who brings lunch from home just so he doesn’t have to buy expensive carnival food

He ends up having to share most of it with the gang

Is the only one who can successfully sneak things past security

Catch him walking in with a sandwich, ten bottles of water, and an entire pack of granola bars

His favorite ride is always the gondola ride that takes you across the park in the air

He likes the drop tower, too

Like Dutch, he also poses for pictures on rides

The only one who isn’t embarrassed to take photos with the mascots

Arthur has about a thousand photos of him with a bunch of random characters

Also the only one who doesn’t forget sunscreen

The gang has to beg him to share his

He isn’t horrible at mini games, but he’s better at some of them than others

For example, terrible at the water gun squirting, but good at ring toss

He always gets at least one prize, even if it’s small

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #arthur morgan #most of my childhood memories are at amusement parks so i had soooo much fun with this #obviously not all of these are amusement parks but the idea was there!!#most of this has happened to me irl LMAO #anyway thank you for the suggestion!!

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kazledazzel · 3 years

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hi!!! hope you’re doing well and your food tastes great! for the recent prompt thing...

camp! au

meet messy

“don’t you want to know how I’m feeling?”

pairing (if needed I didn’t see if it was HAHAH you can ignore this if it isn’t needed though hehehe): kierarktina

thank you! write well!! 💓

I’m so sorry this took me so long to reply to! i’ve been so busy but it’s finally done. it’s a little rushed and i’m sorry if it’s not very good, i’m not used to writing kierarktina but they are one of my favourite ships so i’ll try practice more. i hope you like this <3

ao3

As a camp counsellor, Cristina was supposed to set a good example for the campers. She was supposed to make sure they followed all the rules, including following curfew. Being a good camp counsellor probably meant she wasn’t supposed to be sitting on the floor of the camp kitchens at midnight crying over a tub of ice cream. Alas, Emma didn’t care about the fact that Cristina was supposed to set a good example, nor the fact that the first night of camp was way too early to be breaking the rules.

Emma’s cravings were not the only reason Cristina was in need of some ice cream. Cristina’s year had been miserable; she’d been dumped by her boyfriend and had had to put up with Zara Dearborn all year. Her best friend had completely shut her out for no reason, and had proceeded to run off to Switzerland. Or Sweden. Maybe it had been Italy; Cristina wouldn’t know. He hadn’t exactly sent postcards.

Ice cream seemed to be an appropriate substitute for fake best friends and boys; besides, Cristina was back with her real best friends who had bothered to send postcards, or at least bothered to keep in touch. Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn had become Cristina’s best friends last summer when they’d all met at camp. They had clicked instantly, and by summers end had agreed they would all come back the next summer to counsel once again.

Last summer, Emma and Julian had fallen in love. Cristina hadn’t been bothered by it; she had been crushing on Mark Blackthorn at the time, but he’d been too busy fawning over Kieran Hunter to notice. She hadn’t really cared, because although Emma and Julian were having an epic love story, they never once made Cristina feel left out. However, now that things with Diego had ended badly, Cristina hoped she might get her own epic love story this summer.

“I hate men,” Cristina blurted out randomly. She’d talked so much shit about Diego this year after he’d broken her heart, it was beginning to come her catchphrase. She didn’t actually hate men; but heartbreak could drive even flowery goddesses like Cristina to such statements.

“Same,” Emma agreed, but she didn’t look very convincing. She sat in Julian’s arms, between his legs with his arms wrapped around her waist. She was painting his nails, wearing his hoodie, and had her brows furrowed in concentration. Julian, who had had his head buried in her neck, looked up. His fluffy brown hair was messy and he arched one brow.

“You don’t hate me,” He said.

“You’re right. I don’t. What were we talking about again?” Emma asked, as if her concentration was just now breaking. Julian kissed her cheek and she went back to painting his nails. Cristina felt a pang. She knew Julian and Emma would never purposely try and make her feel single. She also knew that they had lived equally as far away from each other as they had Cristina the past year. Emma had travelling with her parents for the year, while Julian had been in sunny LA. Still, Cristina felt a little lonely.

Cristina could have lost herself in thought right then and there in the refrigerator light of the kitchens. Instead, she was interrupted but a loud bang and the light switching on. She jumped and yelped, worried that maybe they’d been caught. She glanced at Julian and Emma. Emma’s eyes were wild with surprise, and Julian had a black smudge of nail polish on one of his fingers.

There was another clash, and the loud yell of someone cursing. On impulse, Cristina stood up to see who was there. There, in the middle of the kitchen, stood Mark Blackthorn, hair messy from the humidity. He stood in the middle of the kitchen trying not to knock over another metal tray. He glanced up, and smiled upon seeing Cristina, Emma and Julian.

He might have said hello, but Cristina could really hear. Last summer, she’d thought she’d fallen hard for Mark, but that was nothing compared to what she felt now. His voice was still the same familiar sound it had been last summer when he’d told stories around the campfire, and it struck a chord of nostalgia as Cristina found herself reminiscing on her old crush.

It was just nostalgia, Cristina told herself. Julian and Emma might have made her want a summer romance, but Cristina wasn’t sure if she trusted herself around love anymore. Maybe her heart was still fragile, but then again, weren’t all hearts fragile?

“Cristina, isn’t it?” Mark said. Cristina tried to bring herself back to reality. She must have missed the first half of introductions, because Mark had overcome his clumsiness and now the rest of the group were looking at her expectantly.

“Hi,” Cristina said, suppressing the rollercoaster of emotions she’d just felt. She smiled politely; probably a little too politely for a bunch on nineteen year olds on summer vacation. Mark beamed back. Maybe it was the dim kitchen lighting, but there was a splash on red on Mark’s cheeks.

Another voice followed Cristina’s; a new one, less familiar to Cristina.

“Mark?” The voice whispered. “Did you get the ice cream?”

“Come in, Kier,” Mark replied to the voice. Kieran Hunter entered the kitchen, and the first thing Cristina noticed was that he’d dyed his black hair from last summer blue. The second thing she noticed was that he was considerably hotter than he had been last summer.

“Hi,” Kieran said, a little shyer than Mark had been.

“We were just going to get some ice cream and go look at the stars. Kier and I don’t get to see those much in New York,” Mark addressed the whole group, but then turned to Cristina. “You guys want to come?”

As the walked to the lake, Cristina found herself wedged between Kieran and Mark. At first she’d been with Emma and Jules, but the two of them hung back slightly, and Cristina wanted to give them privacy. Occasionally she’d look back to see if they were still following, and she’d see them walking hand in hand with heads bent together whispering.

If Cristina had expected it to be awkward with Mark and Kieran, it wasn’t. Kieran had been a little quiet at first, but Mark was a natural conversationalist. Not in the polite chit chat way, but in the way he could say the most bizarre things and turn it into a meaningful conversation. To Cristina’s relief, Kieran finally warmed up. He knew a lot of the constellations and the legends behind them. Cristina couldn’t help looking at him. He had an ethereal sort of beauty, reminding Cristina of the fair folk he described and he talked about the myths behind the stars.

When they reached the lake, Emma approached Cristina. She looked a little guilty, so Cristina braced herself.

“Tina,” Emma started. “Would you absolutely hate me if I went for a walk with Jules? We might just walk back to the bunks we’re both ex-,”

“Emma,” Cristina said calmly. “It’s fine. You are both looking each other like lovesick puppies. Go get all the love out of your system.

Emma smiled, but glanced worriedly at Mark and Kieran.

“I don’t want to leave you if it’s awkward-,”

“It’s fine,” Cristina insisted, surprising herself. She didn’t mind being left with new people if it was what she had to do, but for some reason she actually wanted to stay with Kieran and Mark. Maybe it was awful of her, to be intruding in on them. She promised herself that if she felt like a third wheel, she’d leave.

Cristina plopped herself down on the ground beside Mark and Kieran. Mark was in the middle of the three.

“What was that about?” He asked, looking suspiciously in the direction of his younger brother.

“They wanted to go for a walk,” Cristina said innocently. From the corner of her eye, she could see Kieran grin.

“Are you cold, Cristina?” Mark asked, and Cristina was a little taken aback by him offering her som of the blanket. She accepted with a little nod, and saddening all three of them were huddled together with the one blanket wrapped around them.

Kieran nudged his boyfriend playfully.

“Don’t you want to know how I’m feeling?” He asked, his steel grey eyes silver in the moonlight.

“I got you your ice cream. I got you your blanket. What more do you want from me?” Mark laughed, and Cristina felt another pang, only this time it wasn’t loneliness.

Here she was, with two beautiful boys beside her, and Cristina felt equally captivated by both of them.

#asks #prompts #shadowhunters #the dark artifices #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #tsc #kierartina #kierarktina #cristina rosales #mark blackthorn #kieran hunter #el writes fanfiction

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faewhump · 4 years

Text

Unseelie Pet: 27. Chapter

Alex tries to resist being put on display again, forcing Malachi to put him back in his place. And as if that wouldn’t have been enough, the arrival of an unexpected guest shakes Alex to his core.

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Content warnings: dehumanisation, captor bonding, abuse, cutting, blood, mentions of torture

Tagging: @galaxywhump @slaintetowhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whumpsideblog @thewhiteraven73 @ohmywhump @deluxewhump @insanitywishes @u-n-o-f-f-i-c-i-a-l @astrobly @frnkieroismydaddy @ariirenn @swordkallya @a-terrible-pun

The night in which Malachi had shared his bed instantly became one of Alex’s favourite memories. He’d felt so safe and treasured waking up cradled in the Fae’s arms, happily enjoyed being fed breakfast in bed as well as the soft affection Malachi gave in abundance. Everything had been so perfect that he had almost forgotten about how awful he’d felt sitting in the cage the evening before. However, his memories came back quickly once he laid eyes on the oversized golden birdcage displayed prominently in the centre of the ballroom a week later.

This time the dominant colour of the decoration was red, and Alex’s heart sank as he noticed that he fit in perfectly with his rouged lips and the backless crimson robe that displayed the crest carved into his shoulder. Malachi had been ecstatic about how his pet had looked in the cage and how impressed the other faeries had been, so of course he wanted to recreate that. It had been naïve of Alex to think he wouldn’t just because he’d cried. He would have to sit still in the cage again, locked in, stared at and surrounded by faeries from every direction, unmoving, quiet, and alone while Malachi was busy entertaining his guests… the thought alone was enough to bring tears into his eyes.

Without thinking Alex stopped walking.

“N-no,” he stuttered and stemmed himself against the leash.

Surprised Malachi turned around. “What is it, darling?”

“I don’t, I don’t want to sit in the cage again.” Alex nervously watched the frown form on Malachi’s face.

“Why not? Is it not an easy task? All you need to do is sit on these soft pillows and stay still, that shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, you did so well last time, so why wouldn’t you want to do it again?”

“I didn’t like how everyone looked at me,” Alex explained. “I don’t want people to look at me like that again, please master, please don’t let them.”

Malachi huffed. “Ridiculous. The entire point of this installation is for everyone to look at you, after all you are the centrepiece.”

“But, but, but I don’t want to be,” Alex whined, giving Malachi his best pout and puppy eyes. “Please master, please don’t make me. Please, I’ll be so good, I promise.”

“If you want to be good, then stop making such a fuss this very instance and behave, pet,” Malachi reprimanded sternly. He gave the leash a sharp yank, and Alex stumbled as the collar dug painfully into his neck.

“No, please –“ He weakly tried to get away from the cage, but had no chance against the Fae’s superhuman strength.

“I said behave!” Malachi hissed and grabbed Alex’s arm, forcefully shoving him onto the low table in the middle of the room.

Alex whimpered, surprised at Malachi’s sudden roughness.

Malachi opened the cage door. “Get inside,” he ordered in a tone that left no room for argument, and Alex shakily obeyed.

“Please, master, please,” Alex begged again while Malachi arranged his limbs and clothes, hoping to sway him before it was too late. “Please don’t make me do this, please, I don’t want to do this, please, master, please don’t –“

He squealed at the sharp pain welling up in his cheek, only noticing belatedly that Malachi had used one of his claws to cut him. Too shocked to say anything he stared at the Fae looming above him.

“This is your last warning, pet.” Malachi announced, his perfectly manicured hands showing no trace of the claws that were hidden underneath the immaculate glamour. “Talk back at me again, and you will be disciplined. Understood?”

“Yes, master.” Unable to hold back his tears Alex began to cry.

Malachi sighed. “Hush, sweetheart, it’s alright,” he soothed and carefully wiped the tears away with his embroidered handkerchief. “Please don’t cry, darling. You’ll smudge the makeup.”

“Sorry,” Alex whimpered, trying his best to force the tears back down. The cut across his cheek hurt, and he could feel the blood slowly running over his skin.

“Hush, my sweet, hush. Don’t worry, you will do so well for me, just relax and wait here until I come to get you; there’s a good boy.” Malachi gently stroked over his hair until he calmed down, then went back to give his posture and clothes the finishing touches. Alex tensed when the cage door was closed and locked but managed to stay still.

“Ah, it’s gorgeous,” Malachi assessed. “As expected everything goes together perfectly, but oh, if I’d known before how magnificently a small cut would enhance the installation… that deep red line of blood against pale skin… simply beautiful.”

“Really?” Alex asked hesitantly, feeling rather embarrassed about the prospect of having the consequence of his disobedience displayed so openly. He wished he could wipe the blood away but knew that it would only make Malachi angry again if he moved out of position.

Malachi smiled and Alex’s heart fluttered. “Of course, darling. You look perfect, like a piece of art,” he assured, then checked his pocket watch. “The guests will arrive soon, so use the last minutes to compose yourself. Just stay as you are and relax, I know you’ll do great for me. Behave yourself, and I promise you will be rewarded. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Alex’s miserable nod was enough for Malachi.

This evening was somehow even worse than the last time he’d sat in the cage. The cut on his cheek burned, and he could feel the dried blood pulling at his skin whenever he moved his face. Just like Malachi the other faeries seemed to like it a lot, but instead of reassuring him it only left a bitter taste in his mouth. Something about the way his pain was perceived as artistic and beautiful made him feel sick to the stomach. All he wanted was to get out of the cage and back to his room, but he knew that he couldn’t possibly disappoint Malachi like that. And so he stayed where he was, unmoving and quiet, trying his best to distract himself by counting the rose petals strewn around the cage.

At first his strategy seemed to work, and the happenings around barely registered to him, when suddenly a familiar voice cut through, sending an icy shiver down his spine. His head snapped up, wide eyes searching the room, a cold fear rising within. No, it couldn’t be, this was impossible; Malachi had said he was gone, it couldn’t be… Alex’s eyes locked on to a Fae halfway across the room. He froze.

Rían.

The Fae Lord was of medium height, had light brown hair and pale skin, and wore fine clothes made of blue brocade. With his strong glamour he looked almost deceptively human, the unsettling aura that usually surrounded faeries all but missing completely. And yet he was the one that had haunted Alex’s dreams all throughout the last decade.

Ten years ago Alex had met Rían an entirely different person, young, naïve, and awfully desperate. He’d known that deal he’d struck with the Fae would change his life forever, but he hadn’t expected any of the horrible things that had happened because of it. Rían had been so nice to him, acting all understanding and empathetic, and speaking in such a calm manner that made everything he said sound so very reasonable. But then Alex’s conscience had hindered him from following his orders and the Fae had reacted mercilessly, throwing Alex into a dark cell, and declaring him fair game for all of his vassals to amuse themselves with.

It had taken Alex months to escape, as well as many years to cope with the experience. He’d finally come to think of himself fully freed from Rían’s influence, reassured by Malachi’s insistence that the other Fae Lord hadn’t been seen around the Court for years. But now here he was, in the middle of the ballroom, eyes locked on Alex and walking towards him.

Alex was petrified by fear, everything in him screamed at him to run away and hide, but found himself utterly unable to move. Not that it would change anything, he was still very much locked inside this cage as well as strictly ordered to stay in position. Malachi would be so mad at him if he moved, but there was Rían, coming to a halt in front of the bars, standing right there less than a meter away from him, smiling. Frozen in place Alex trembled as his breathing turned fast and shallow, panic taking over.

Rían’s voice was smooth and pleasant as he spoke. “Now look at what an exotic little bird Malachi caught,” he said. “Hello there, Kieran. It’s been a while.”

Alex’s mind came up blank, incapable to even think of how to form words; this couldn’t be happening.

“I have to say, I hadn’t expected my visit to this Court to turn out quite so interesting.” Rían cocked his head and slowly looked him over, a small smile playing around his lips. “My, this is truly unexpected.”

No, no, no, this couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t be. Alex couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever been more scared than at this very moment, and yet all he could do was staying still and quiet, not leaving his position. What if Rían wanted to punish him for his escape? Sure, ten years had passed, but to an immortal faerie that kind of time meant nothing. Would Rían be satisfied with hurting him or would he, like Darerca, want to kill him? Alex felt like he was close to passing out from fear, when finally rescue came.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Malachi asked as he stepped up next to Rían.

Alex could have cried from relief, surely his master would protect him. He loved him and Alex had been so good, not moving out of position at all despite his fear. Besides, he had promised that he would never let anyone hurt him again.

Without faltering Rían turned to Malachi. “It truly is, you’ve always had an excellent eye for these kinds of things, Lord Malachi.”

“You flatter me, Lord Rían,” Malachi gave back, clearly pleased with the compliment. “I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon, what a pleasant surprise.”

Alex frowned slightly, why would Malachi refer to this as a pleasant surprise? He’d never mentioned having any kinds of positive relationship to Rían before, but then again, he was probably just being polite. Tensely Alex continued to watch the two Fae Lords.

“The sentiment is very much shared on my side, I am quite looking forward to catching up with you,” Rían assured. “However, I first just have to ask where and when you found your lovely new pet.”

“Oh, it stumbled right into my arms in this very room, about eight months ago,” Malachi replied with a small smile.

“That’s quite recent. How did you get it this docile so quickly?”

Alex shivered under Rían’s gaze.

“Oh, you know me, I’ve always been of the opinion that simple torture is horribly ineffective when it comes to taming pets. It appears that my approach is indeed the superior one to achieve the desired results.”

“Hmm.” Rían’s smile had disappeared. “Do you only use it for decoration?”

Malachi smirked. “Oh no, it's very much a multipurpose pet, this one, quite multifaceted in its talents.” His meaningful grin caused Alex to blush.

“I see.”

For a moment they regarded Alex in silence, who tried his hardest not to squirm.

“I am not sure whether you remembered, but this human used to be mine,” Rían began slowly.

“Oh, I know,” Malachi said light-heartedly.

“If that is so, you might also be aware that I have never actually withdrawn my claim on it.”

Alex flinched, terrified of what that might mean. Rían’s tone had sounded nothing but conversational, but he knew better than to assume that the disinterest it conveyed was real.

Malachi too sounded utterly unconcerned. “Pardon my bluntness, but after the, well, failure that your handling of this human was, I wouldn’t have thought that you’d still be interested in it.”

“Ha, I guess that’s fair,” Rían admitted, flashing Malachi a self-deprecating smile. “Of course I would be more than willing to reimburse you for the trouble. Name a price, and we’ll see what can be done.”

Alex’s eyes went wide with fear and he whimpered. No, this couldn’t be. Malachi wouldn’t sell him, right? He couldn’t do that; sure, he seemed a lot he more friendly with Rían than Alex would have expected, but he loved him. Malachi loved him.

Malachi’s eyes flicked to him as he couldn’t help shifting his weight restlessly. “Keep you position, pet,” he reminded him, and Alex froze again. Satisfied with his compliance Malachi turned back to Rían. “I’m afraid that there is no price you could provide that would be high enough to weigh up to pain of losing my beloved darling pet.”

“Are you certain about that? I’m sure we could –“

“No,” Malachi interrupted decidedly. “I am sorry, but I will not change my mind on this.”

“And if I decide maintain to my claim?” Rían pressed.

Malachi met his eyes calmly. “Then you and I will have to settle this with a duel.”

His entire body wound up by tension Alex held his breath.

Rían huffed. “Oh please, no human is worth getting that kind of animosity between us, you know how much I value your friendship,” he appeased.

Malachi smiled and clapped Rían on the shoulder. “As do I, my friend, as do I.”

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graaid · 3 years

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After nearly 36 years of cold hard denial, Arthur Morgan realizes he likes men. Don't get him wrong, he likes women too, but he's been crushing over Charles since his arrival, and he wants to tell him that he likes him more as just a fellow gang member. But that requires a lot of mental effort.

(Entire fic (don’t worry it’s a oneshot) under the cut, but if you’d like to leave a comment/kudos on AO3 I’d really appreciate it!!)

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky over Clemens Point when the members of the Van Der Linde gang woke up. Lenny and Kieran were, of course, the first ones up and active, ready to prove themselves to the rest of the gang.

The smoke hadn’t even begun rising from the main campfire when Arthur got out of bed. Out of everyone in the gang, he was somehow the most and least punctual; he may show up to a robbery late, but he’ll always wake up at 6:30 am every day, even if he had gone to bed at 3 am that night. Thankfully, this early rising habit gave him the time to get his chores and other tasks done so he could have a little relaxation time later.

“G’morning Arthur, have a good night?” Charles called from his tent as he stretched and started to weave a feather into his long black hair.

“Ughhhh, as good as it’ll ever be,” Arthur groaned, hiding just the tiniest of blushes. Arthur knew he shouldn’t be so gruff with the other members of the gang, but being the no-nonsense uncle of the family had more or less become his thing over the past few years, especially with all the younger folk joining. He had been trying to cut down on the cynicism lately, but sometimes the jokes just write themselves. He figured he should probably leave the joke making to Sean, or at least the assholishness to someone like Micah.

Even though he would usually go straight to chopping wood or transporting bags of grain to Pearson’s wagon, Arthur leaned back on his bed and looked out over the camp. Strauss was nose-first in some ledger book, probably wondering where he could find his next victim to send Arthur after. Javier was tuning his guitar, no doubt readying it for another late night sing-a-long session at the campfire that evening. John was avoiding Abigail like the plague, but Arthur didn’t really blame him; it had always bothered him whenever the two of them yelled at each other. Obviously all couples fight sometimes, but the bickering had gone on so long Arthur wished he could just snap his fingers and have them become a happy couple again, if they had ever been one in the first place.

Arthur’s eyes wandered over to the tiny dock with it’s equally tiny canoe. Hosea had thought it a good idea to purchase the canoe for the camp a week or so ago, and the sight of Sean trying to stand in it and falling over comically into the lake made the purchase definitely worthwhile. It had also allowed the gang to get access to better fishing spots, which made Pearson’s stew almost edible.

That’s what I’ll do , Arthur thought, I’ll go fishing. A fish fry tonight sounds pretty good.

Getting dressed took no time at all, and walking down to the dock, making sure to give Micah an obligatory death stare was even easier. Arthur noticed John sitting on the edge of the dock, staring off into the distance, probably thinking of running off again. Probably.

“Hey John, wanna come fishin’ with me?” Arthur asked, untying the boat’s rope from the dock.

“Arthur, you know I can’t swim, right? If that little dinghy tips even a little we’re both goin’ in.”

“Then don’t tip the boat, dumbass.”

“Oh c’mon, you and I both know that’s not gonna happen.”

“Well if it does,” Arthur continued, stepping into the boat, “Your big brother Arthur will be there to drag your ass to shore.”

John rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically and stepped in the boat, shakily sitting down on one of the planks. “Fine, but if we tip… I’m allowed to look at your journal.”

“If we tip there won’t be much of a journal to look through,” Arthur chuckled, patting his back pants pocket.

Arthur, sitting in the back, pushed off from the dock and started rowing out towards one of the small islands not too far from Clemen’s Point. He’d been affectionately calling it “Bird Island”, on account of all the ducks and ravens that populated it. It was a good spot to think on any other day, but not when bringing John along.

“So Arthur, you did remember to bring bait, right?” John asked, trying not to turn around in the boat too fast, since he really honestly did not know how to swim.

“Nah, bait’s for rich folk, we’re using lures,” Arthur remarked, “Plus, it’s easier to see the shiny, pretty lures than some dumb worm.”

“You sound like a crow, Arthur.”

“Oh shut up,” Arthur replied with a hidden smirk, splashing some water with his paddle in John’s direction.

“Hey no fair, I can’t get you back there!”

“Then jump in the water and get me yourself, coward.”

Arthur didn’t need to see John’s face to know his friend was giving him the dirtiest glare. Thankfully before any revenge could be plotted, they pulled up to Bird Island.

“Alright, here we are, pick a spot and get comfy, we’re gonna be here a while.”

John grumbled in agreement and pulled a downed log to the beach so he could sit on it.

The two of them cast their lines into the water and began the waiting game, slowly reeling their lures back to the beach in hopes of catching some perch or trout.

As Arthur had imagined, John had somehow scared away all the fish. He didn’t know how, but he assumed it was something about his aura, or whatever Hosea called it, that just made it impossible to catch anything.

By the time it was noon, the two of them had only caught about 3 fish in total. Arthur didn’t especially mind though, he enjoyed days when he wasn’t robbing banks and killing innocent folk. He enjoyed his personal self-care days more, but he knew he should take what he can get.

Even from far away on this tiny island, Arthur could see some of the other gang members back on Clemens Point. He could easily make out Sean’s bright red hair as he chased after who must’ve been Mary-Beth around Pearson’s wagon, no doubt on another mission to woo her. Scanning over the edge of camp, he also spotted Charles chopping wood. Normally this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off of the fact that Charles happened to be chopping wood shirtless. Which he normally never does. Arthur suddenly wished he hadn’t asked John to come fishing. He couldn’t make out anything specific, but he had seen Charles shirtless once and the guy was built like a brick wall. He’d seen him knock a man out in one punch before, and the witnessing of it both scared him and made him feel just a little constricted by his pants.

Arthur must’ve been lost in thought longer than he imagined, because before he knew it, John was kicking sand at him, yelling that he had a fish on his line.

Arthur quickly diverted his attention back to his line, reeling it in and trying not to glance back over at Charles. Eventually he pulled in a 5 pound trout, so at least that came of something.

“Hey Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve never been married, right?”

Arthur laughed, “God no, John. This life ain’t really one that allows for much marrying and settling down.”

“But you’ve had… relationships before, right?”

Arthur reeled back his line and sat down next to John on the log. “Is there something you want to talk to me about, Marston?”

John scooted over a bit to give Arthur more room on the log and reeled his line back in as well.

“I… I don’t know Arthur,” John started, “It’s just that, like, I know Abigail and I have been fighting pretty much since we met, it’s just… I thought we would’ve figured it out by now, even just for the sake of Jack, but it just seems to be getting worse every damn day!”

Arthur grimaced. Relationship trouble was never his strong point, but he’d at least try for the sake of his friend.

“Well, you have tried talkin’ it out, right?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah of course,” John continued, “It just never seems to be the right time to talk. We’re just always doing something else, and when we do have free time to talk it just… never feels right, or we just don’t agree.”

“Oh c’mon, you must agree on something.”

“Yeah, that I’m a miserable no-good deadbeat dad.” John chuckled, resting his head in one of his hands.

Arthur sighed and looked out over the water. He knew John didn’t really mean that, even if Abigail’s point had some validity. It’s hard having a relationship in a life like this, you never know if the person you love is going to return that night. It must weigh pretty heavily on Abigail every time John goes out, not knowing whether to tell their son now or later that his daddy might not ever come back.

“Y’know John, I think I have the opposite problem from you,” Arthur observed, “You’ve got someone who cares too much about you, while I’ve got someone who I’m not even sure cares about me.”

John picked his head up from his hands. “You do? You mean that Mary girl?”

Arthur chuckled and looked back at camp where he spotted Charles, unsurprisingly hard at work, “No, this one’s a little different.”

“Is it one of the girls in camp? You know I’d support you but you are a bit… old compared to them.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Close, but no.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Arthur could tell John was really thinking hard.

“Jesus, Marston, I know I’m dumb but you’re really pushing the bar. It’s Charles, okay? Don’t think too much harder, you’ll break somethin’.”

There was another beat of silence.

“Charles, like the one working with us?” John hesitantly asked.

Arthur’s silence told John all he needed to know.

“Huh,” John began, “I uh… never thought you, y’know, swung that way.”

“Me either,” Arthur admitted, taking a drink from his water flask, “But it took me nearly 36 years to figure it out, so don’t go telling me it’s fake or nothing. I did like all those girls I dated, but I just never really clicked with them, I suppose.”

John chuckled. “Well I guess it makes sense you’re the way you are. You probably rubbed off on me, certainly explains the eyes I’ve been making at Javier lately.”

Arthur almost choked on his water. “Say that again cowboy, you’ve been WHAT at Javier?”

John picked up a stick and began drawing in the sand with it. “Eh, it’s nothing really, Arthur, nothing really at all, it's just that… sometimes when Abigail and I fight I just want to run away with someone new, y’know?”

“Oh no you don’t,” Arthur smirked, wrapping his arm around John’s shoulder, “I ain’t gonna let you run out on us again, you’d find me cold in the ground first!”

John beamed back one of his rare sunshine-y smiles. “Aww, I guess big old tough Arthur Morgan actually does have a heart inside afterall!”

“Don’t push your luck, kid,” Arthur replied, standing up to cast his line out again, “You ever gonna tell Javier how you feel?”

“You gonna ever tell Charles how you feel?”

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Hey, maybe Charles can give you a little pain in the ass, if you know what I m-”

“Marston you shut your trap before I drown you myself!” Arthur half-jokingly reprimanded, kicking some sand at his adopted brother.

A bit of time passed. Arthur happened to catch 4 more perch, and John devoted the rest of their time on the island to picking some herbs and flowers, knowing that his skills as a fisherman were almost completely useless.

By the time the sun was going down, John returned with a bundle of burdock root and purple flowers.

“Hey uh, Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“Are you ever uh, gonna actually tell Charles or anyone else at camp how you feel?”

Arthur sighed and packed up his fishing pole. “Probably not. It took most of my effort just now to tell you because I knew I could trust you, so you’d imagine what it’d be like to tell someone like Micah, let alone Dutch and Hosea.”

“Aren’t Hosea and Dutch together?” John asked, packing his herbs and flowers into the boat.

“Haha, very funny Marston, they’re just good friends, they’ve been that way for a long time. I would’ve thought you would know that.”

“Well that’s certainly strange, I never knew “good friends” kissed each other on the mouth.”

Arthur stopped what he was doing. “Dutch and Hosea? They’re a… a thing? I thought Dutch and Molly… Hold on a second…”

John wholeheartedly laughed. “Jesus, Arthur, I thought I was slow to get things but I think you just broke the world record for ‘slowest time a man’s taken to figure out his adopted fathers are homosexuals’. All those smart reflexes went to your Deadeye skills instead, huh?”

“Alright now I’m going to drown you in your sleep instead.”

“I’d like to see you try,” John beamed, hopping into the boat, almost tipping it over, “Plus, if you kill me now, who’s gonna help you kick Micah’s ass when you come out to everyone?”

Arthur turned his head away so John couldn’t see his smile. “Let’s just get back to camp first and give these fish to Pearson. I’m almost terrified to see what he does with them.”

Arthur and John rowed back to Clemen’s Point with minimal water damage to their clothing, at least on accident. John, apparently moved by Arthur’s mini-therapy session, made a beeline to Abigail and gave her the bouquet of purple flowers he had picked. Arthur could see her blush all the way from the dock.

“Had fun on your fishing trip, Arthur? I’m surprised you convinced John to come out with you on the water.” Hosea, sitting under a tree, book in hand, called out to Arthur as he made his way to Pearson’s wagon.

“Yeahhhh it was alright; John and I got to talkin’ about some stuff, and we caught some pretty good fish, so expect them in the stew a few weeks from now.”

Hosea grimaced, scrunching his nose. “Can’t wait for Pearson to overcook them too. Oh well, at least we’ll have something to eat.”

Arthur cracked a smile and sat down next to his adopted father under the tree.

“Hey Hosea?”

“Hm?”

“Are you and Dutch, y’know…?” Arthur asked, making a lot of vaguely suggestive motions with his hands, none of which Hosea could gather meant anything literally, but he understood what Arthur was getting at.

“Heh, well I was sure it was going to come out at some point,” Hosea said, closing his book and resting it on his lap, “Yes, Arthur, the two men who have raised you since you were 13 are indeed romantically involved with each other.”

Arthur leaned back on the tree. “Huh, I guess it makes sense. I just… I just wanted to make sure Marston wasn’t lying ta’ me again, y’know?”

Hosea chuckled, brushing his gray hair back into its place. “Oh don’t you worry Arthur, John doesn’t need to lie; and I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m surprised it took you this long to catch on.”

“Eh, well, I’ve got my mind on other things, I guess.”

“Oh? Do you need to talk about something?”

“Not really,” Arthur began, “I mean… it’s just that…”

Hosea placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s okay son, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Arthur felt a tear well up in his eye. Between his two adopted fathers, Hosea had always been the one that Arthur knew he could come to with his non-outlaw related problems. Maybe it was his calm, almost flamboyant mannerisms, but it made Arthur, and he was sure plenty of the other members of the gang too, feel like you could trust him like a father.

“I… I’ve been thinkin’. About… things…”

“What kind of things?”

“Well, love things, I guess. ‘Cause I mean… I’m getting up in years, and I look at people like John with Abigail and Jack, and you and Dutch, and I just keep wonderin’ when I’m gonna meet someone, y’know?”

“Ah, those kinds of problems,” Hosea mused, scratching his chin, “I remember being your age and thinking the same things. Even when I was with Bessie I was thinking those same things. It’s hard to know when you’ve found ‘The One’, Arthur. I loved Bessie, I really did, and I thought she was my One for a long time, but there’s something about Dutch that I just clicked with all those years ago that I could never get enough of. So now I’m here, with the rest of ya’ trying to make sure you all don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Arthur nodded his head and started drawing in the dirt with a twig.

“But that’s enough about my sordid old past,” Hosea continued, “Is there something that’s happened that made you think about all this?”

“Well yeah, I told you, I’m getting up there in age and-”

“No, I heard that Arthur, I mean is there someone you’ve met that’s made you feel this way?”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Yes.” Arthur muttered.

“Do I know them?”

“Mhm.”

“It isn’t John, is it? I know you two are pretty close, but I’m not sure how… close.”

“What? God no, Hosea, it’s not like that,” Arthur proclaimed, looking around to make sure no one was listening in, “It’s… Charles. Charles, like the one we work with, the one over there.”

Arthur pointed over to where Charles and some of the rest of the gang were hanging around the main campfire. It had become dusk by now, and the gentle orange light from the fire made Charles’s dark skin look like it was glowing.

“Hm I see,” noted Hosea, “Have you told him how you feel?”

Arthur snickered, “Y’know, John asked me the same question earlier. I didn’t even know you and Dutch were together, so no, I haven’t.”

“Well whenever you want to, I’ll be behind you.”

“Thanks… dad.”

“Oh come now Arthur, you don’t have to get all mushy on me, just be confident and speak from the heart and you’ll have no trouble at all.”

Arthur sighed. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll try to remember that.”

The rest of the evening passed normally. Pearson served everyone stew for the Nth time in a row and Uncle roused everyone’s spirits with another vaguely sexual song as they sat around the firepit. Charles was too invested in his dinner to see Arthur shooting glances at him. Arthur knew he didn’t have to tell Charles how he felt, but the constant burying of his emotions was beginning to drive him insane.

Arthur began thinking about ways he could confess his feelings. He could always ask Charles to go hunting with him, but it’d probably be a bit awkward to profess your undying love next to the corpse of a recently deceased deer, so Arthur scrapped that one. He could always just invite him to his tent and tell him there, but then Strauss, who’s tent was right next to his, would definitely hear them.

By the time Arthur came to a conclusion, everyone had settled down and were now just enjoying each other’s company around the fire. Even old Uncle, who was usually the first to a song, was silently leaning back on the grass, already half-finished with his second bottle of whiskey. Nearly everyone was there, and the thought of coming out to that many people at once frightened him, but Arthur knew he just needed to get it over and done with, then everything would be better, right?

Arthur set his mostly empty bowl down on the grass, stood up, and cleared his voice.

“Uh, everyone, I have a, uh, announcement to make.”

“You’re pregnant?” Joked Sean from the other side of the fire, causing a few giggles to be heard.

“Haha very funny Sean,” Arthur continued, rubbing his hands together, “But this is important. It’s, uh, something that I’ve been thinkin’ on for some time now, and I felt like I needed to get it off my chest.”

“Arthur, my boy,” came Dutch’s voice from behind as he sat down on the log next to his adopted son, “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“No! No, god no, it’s not anything like that. I just… I just… I don’t know how to say it.”

“Well then just say it as simply as you can then,” Lenny piped up from next to Sean, “That usually works best for me.”

There was a short pause.

Arthur took a deep breath. “I…well… I like… men.”

The pause after Arthur spoke might’ve only been a few seconds, but to Arthur it felt like years. His eyes kept bouncing around to the other gang members, trying to read their expressions before they spoke. His eyes eventually fell on Charles, who’s expression hadn’t changed since Arthur’s announcement, although it might’ve been his imagination, but he could swear there was the faintest twinkle in his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, the silence was broken.

“Same.” Came Bill’s hoarse but quiet voice as he took another swig of his drink. There seemed to be a collective sigh from the group.

“Jesus Arthur, I thought you was going to tell us that you were dyin’ or somethang.” Said Sean.

Arthur chuckled timidly. “Nah, you’re gonna have to wait plenty more years before you see me go down.”

“Well that’s good, son,” Came Dutch’s warm voice again, “I’m glad you got that off your chest.”

Arthur chuckled again, this time with a bit more confidence. “I mean,” he continued, “I like women too, I just wanted to say this ‘cause I didn’t want y’all to make a big fuss if you ever see me bein’ sweet on another man, y’know?”

There were lighthearted chuckles around the fire. It was pretty obvious that this whole situation was really awkward for everyone involved, but Arthur could tell that they were all at least trying to be supportive, so he sat back down and took a few more deep breaths.

Some time passed and most of the people around the fire had left to go to bed. Arthur had been feeling a lot more relaxed, now that his big secret was out, but at the same time he knew that once Micah heard about it there’d be a whole new line of harassment coming Arthur’s way. Arthur hoped that maybe, just maybe, if Micah was being an asshole to him about this issue now, that Dutch may finally come to his senses and kick the bastard out of the gang. But getting Dutch to go back on his word was like trying to tell a bird not to fly, so Arthur didn’t get his hopes up too much.

Soon enough it was nearly 2 am, and everyone figured that they may as well go to bed. As Arthur was settling down, he heard Dutch’s voice half-whisper from his tent.

“So uh, Arthur, about what you announced at the fire tonight…”

“Yeah, Dutch?”

“You mentioned bein’ sweet on a man. You found someone?”

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up fast and consciously moved his head so Dutch couldn’t see.

“No. I was just, uh, sayin’... like in the future, y’know?”

Arthur heard Dutch chuckle to himself. “Y’know Arthur, considering all the time you spend with Hosea I would’ve thought you’d be better at lying. I won’t press it though; take your time, I certainly took mine.”

Arthur heard Dutch’s tent close and breathed a sigh of relief. Coming out to everyone about his attraction to men was already a lot, coming out about which specific man he liked was just a little too much for one evening.

That night Arthur dreamed that he was looking down on three houses facing each other in a wide, open field of grass and lavender. Off to the side of the houses was a field of plants and other herbs and a small wooden chicken coop. There was a big lake not too far away with a dock and a large fishing boat. It reminded him of the area near Big Valley. Sitting on the porch of one of the houses was Dutch and Hosea in twin rocking chairs, Dutch just basking in the sun and Hosea nose deep in some book. Even from Arthur’s far away point of view, he could see a glass of something cold in Dutch’s hand. It was nice to see his fathers relaxing as opposed to what they usually have to deal with.

Sitting on the porch of the second house was John and Abigail. Abigail seemed to be showing John how to sew, who must’ve been doing a spectacularly bad job beforehand. Jack was there too; he was chasing some big golden dog around the field, throwing a big stick for the pet to catch and bring back. All three of them were smiling and laughing at some unheard joke. Arthur felt happy for them, and he wished he could be like them. Maybe someday.

Arthur looked to the porch of the third house and saw no one there. He came closer, and to his surprise, there was a tiny carving of a deer standing at the top of the steps. Next to it was a same sized carving of a wolf. Arthur felt a strange pull to the carving of the deer and he reached down to pick it up. As he did so, he saw a hand out of the corner of his eye pick up the wolf carving. As he stood back up with the deer in his hands, he saw that it was Charles who had picked up the wooden wolf. The two men were standing mere inches apart, eyes locked on each other. Arthur so desperately wanted to kiss Charles, even if this one was just a figment of an overactive and horny imagination. But instead of a kiss, Charles took Arthur’s free hand, led him up the steps of the house to the porch, and sat him down on a large wooden chair next to his own. Neither Charles nor Arthur spoke a word to each other, but the feeling of Charles’s large, warm hand on Arthur’s own as they sat and looked out over the lake together as the cool air wafted past them made Arthur feel an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time: contentedness. The feeling was so comforting he even forgot that this was all a dreamed-up fantasy. Arthur wished he could skip having to tell Charles that he liked him and just go straight ahead to this perfect moment. But Arthur knew that he’d just have to get it over with, like with his coming out. But thankfully now, with the thought of (just) about everyone behind him, he knew he could do it.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr1 #charthur #vandermatthews #arthur morgan #arthur rdr2 #charles smith #lgbt #graaidart #but writing this time #writing #hosea matthews #Dutch Van Der Linde #fanfiction #fanfic #trans #transgender

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evansfm · 3 years

Text

𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 & 𝙙𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 : 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗻 & 𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗶𝘀𝗲 .

eloise connely was kind above all else . nurturing . she’d always wanted to be a mom , even when she was little . a mother first , then maybe a veterinarian on the side . she liked looking after people , and she was GOOD at it . so when the universe gave young eloise twins , she could’ve sworn the heavens opened up . when she lost one of them eighteen years later , she thought the world might end .

but there was still evan . with her father’s eyes and her mother’s curls . a smile that could light up the room and dimples passed down from the macalpine side . rambunctious and reckless evan , with a heart too big for her chest . one of the things eloise admired most about her daughter was the beautiful way she moved through life , stopping to feel every emotion along the way . it made her vibrant and empathetic and bold . . . but it also meant lows felt like nosedives . and this was the kind of low eloise hadn’t seen in YEARS . . . maybe even at all . she hadn’t gone numb like she had when they lost beck , and she wasn’t quite angry like she’d gotten with her father . this was a kind of sadness that rivaled london’s storm clouds ; it was a kind of sadness that had blue eyes void of the wonder she’d clung to for twenty - two years . she was miserable ; anyone who’d known her for so much as a day before all of this began would’ve been able to tell the difference . sometimes it felt like even eloise was walking on eggshells .

“ ev , come ‘ere a minute , ” she sighed , inviting her to sit with her on the couch .

“ well , t’at’s a tone i don’t love , ” evan sighed , speaking of the wariness in her mother’s voice . she emerged from her kitchen with a warm mug between her palms and the pitter patter of a dutiful watchdog trailing after her . dark circles formed under her eyes ; curls swept into a braid too loose to contain strands around her face . at least she wasn’t puffy from crying , “ can’t imagine t’is is going to be good . ”

“ do you remember much about your father leaving ? ” a thoughtful crease formed between eloise’s brow as she stared at her now - closed novel resting in her lap .

“ not really , no . there one day , gone t’e next , ” evan stiffened , sitting on the edge of the couch next to her mother . with everything happening , tristan connely was the LAST thing she wanted to talk about .

“ mhm , ” a distant hum before she was moving to abandon her book on the table , “ i always t’ought i was doing the BEST t’ing by moving us to lorcain and starting over wit’ a clean slate . t’ought i was doing the BEST t’ing by never talking about your da . . . ” hazel eyes shifted to her daughter , worry clear in the way they flittered over her , “ ever since you were tiny , you’ve always taken on ot’er people’s feelings . you can’t really help it . . . and it certainly isn’t a BAD t’ing , but it was hard enough on’ye . i see now maybe it prevented us from ever TRULY moving forward . ”

“ mam –– . . . ” evan interjected ; she’d never blamed her mother for any of it .

“ no , just . . . hear me out , ” she sighed , rubbing her palm over her forehead ; even after more than a decade she could feel the nakedness of her ring finger . she’d never remarried . . . never changed her last name . she was a hopeless romantic after all , believing everyone got one GREAT love . for a while , she thought tristan was hers . then she had the twins , and she knew she could love nothing more , “ i was young when i had you ‘nd your brother , and being a mother was . . . everyt’ing to me . still is . i love not’ing else like i love being your mam . but i was SO in love wit’ being a mother , i hardly had any time to notice my marriage was miserable . we were bot’ miserable . what we had was gone LONG before your da’ left . and t’at isn’t any excuse for him leaving YOU –– i’ll never forgive ‘im for t’at , but –– he ‘ad his reasons for leaving ME . i wasn’t loving ‘im the best i could , and he wasn’t loving me the best he could . it was a long time coming , but for YOU . . . he was there one day , gone the next . one day he just . . . found someone better . you trusted the two of us more t’an ANYONE , and when we split , ‘nd he went ‘nd got remarried , t’at trust was BROKEN . . . ”

evan kept her eyes trained on her mother . specs of silver were beginning to appear in her long , dark hair . . . but time was kind to eloise connely . her eyes were as kind and welcoming as ever , and her voice did wonders to soothe anyone . . . no matter the topic . still , evan’s voice was a ghost of a whisper , “ why are we talkin’ about t’is . . . ”

“ because right now , whether it’s true or not , THAT is what you’re feeling wit’ kieran . you trust him more t’an anyone , ‘nd now , ” she reached forward , tucking a rogue curl behind evan’s ear , “ my sweet evan . . . now you aren’t eating . you’ve hardly slept . and whether you want to admit it or not . . . he’s all you’re t’inking about . all those old wounds got torn open and filled wit’ salt . and t’at’s okay , but . . . ”

“ are you seriously about to take kieran’s side on t’ings ? ” evan bristled , immediately turning defensive . mikey , ruairi , conan , adam . . . he had all of them ; he didn’t need her own MOTHER as well .

“ no . absolutely not , ” she studied her daughter for a moment , then exhaled , “ but he did call last night . ”

“ ma – ”

“ and i answered . ”

“ MOTHER , ” evan shoved off of the couch , eyes wide in panic , “ i told you –– BEGGED you –– not to meddle . ”

she moved away from the couch , both eloise and ziggy watching her with careful eyes as she began to pace back and forth , back and forth . her she wrung her hands , fingers falling over each other in nervous fidgeting . a habit when she was stressed , when her thoughts came too quickly to sift through . kieran was always so good at calming her down when she got like this , gentle hands covering hers . he’d intertwine their fingers or kiss the inside of her wrist , tethering her to himself and keeping her from floating away . . . or drowning . she’d forgotten how to deal with it on her own , and above all else , it made her miss him even MORE . she hated that she was missing him . blue eyes darted back to her mother , and she stopped in her tracks , wrists flicking to shake out her hands as though she was getting rid of excess water after scrubbing them clean . i shouldn’t ask , she thought , i don’t want to know . i don’t want to know . i shouldn’t ask .

“ what did you say ? ”

eloise shifted , treading carefully , “ somet’ing similar to what i’ve told you . and t’at giving you SPACE was a good thing . ”

she shouldn’t ask . she didn’t want to know .

“ what did HE say ? ”

she hadn’t spoken to him since the night he called , the night she’d felt her heart tear entirely in half as his voice cracked on the other end of the line . though it was less of an actual conversation and more of three days of emotion blowing up in both of their faces , evan coming down on kieran HARD . the pictures were fresh in her mind then , and the thought of him finding someone better , falling in love with someone better , was so terrifying , she hadn’t even let him get a word in . emotions were jumbled up in her head and searing in her chest . she was ANGRY with him for not listening to her , for brushing things off like she was just a silly , paranoid girl . she was angrier with bex ; rumor or fact , the girl had never paid any mind to boundaries . . . or to evan . because evan was NOTHING to her , and she’d done well to make her feel exactly that . she was terribly SAD , too , as she felt like the one person she’d truly loved had been ripped away from her . the one person who she never thought would hurt her , had . on top of it all was a winding confusion ; why had she been so ready to believe the rumors ? why would kieran swear to marry her one moment then leave her the next ? why was she so set on refusing to listen to him ? what was so special about bex . . . that made him want to throw away TWELVE years ? where had she gone wrong ? why wasn’t she good enough ?

you’re MORE t’an just fucking enough for me , evan .

she could still hear the desperation in his voice ; it made her hate herself .

“ what did he say ? ” she asked again , barely a whisper this time .

“ he rambled for some time . i LET him ramble for some time , ” eloise’s fingers lifted to the birthstone pendant around her neck , opal for october . when she spoke again , her tone was even more careful than before , “ sounded like he’d been drinking . ”

evan straightened , seemingly snapping out of her own wallowing . she could picture a happier version of kieran , drunk in a pub full of people celebrating the beginning of the found’s very first headlining tour . flushed cheeks , messy hair , crooked smile . she could’ve kissed him that night . in retrospect , as she’d tucked herself into his jacket with arms wrapped around his waist , and he brushed away curls with light fingertips that ultimately tucked away behind her neck . . . maybe she should have . then again , the later years of their friendship was full of moments like that . and the flush of whiskey on his cheeks was something she loved paired with a smile . to celebrate . not to COPE . he knew better than to step even an inch in that destructive direction . she could only hope that conan was looking after him . . .

“ he wanted me to pass somet’ing along , to tell you somet’ing , but i won’t if you don’t want to hear it . ”

evan’s arms folded over her chest , and she thought about it for a drawn out moment , “ go on . ”

“ he wanted me t’ tell you to remember what he said to you the night before he left . that he meant every word of it then and still means every word of it now . ”

she clenched her eyes shut , arms unfurling to press the heels of her palms into her eyes . of course he did . . . OF COURSE he did . because amidst the photographs and the rumors and the distance , evan had lost sight of the words that truly mattered . you , evan –– my love –– are t’e love of my life and you will be even after i take my final breath . t’ere’s no one else . t’ere never was anyone else . you’ve seen me , and i know you . i’m not going anywhere . . . her breath hitched ; the tears crept up on her faster than before . THERE’S NO ONE ELSE . it was just as true for him as it had been for her , and for the first time since those damned photographs came out , something finally felt stronger than the anger and the sadness and the confusion .

the love she had for kieran walsh came without conditions , and somewhere along the way , he’d learned to love her back just the same .

unconditionally .

the only thing she felt absolutely certain of was that no matter what lay behind the photos and the rumors , no matter if he hadn’t listened to her and she hadn’t listened to him , no matter how angry or sad or confused she was : she LOVED him . more than anything . more than anyone . she had for years , and she’d continue to do so for always .

unconditionally . flaws and all .

“ fuck , ” she swore , hands pushing back loose strands of hair as teary eyes made the room blurry , “ i’ve really gone and made t’is worse . ”

because the night before he’d left , he told her flat out that there wasn’t ANYONE else . he’d told her that he wouldn’t LEAVE her . . . that she’d have to break up with him herself to get rid of him . he’d traced the edges of her features and whispered that he didn’t WANT to leave her . he’d held her face and told her that he belonged to HER . he’d kissed her and swore that she made him happy , that he only ever needed her .

that couldn’t be UNDONE by a set of photos . it couldn’t be undone by a girl with ill - intentions .

it could only be undone if the SPACE evan asked for became wider and more permanent , and she couldn’t imagine the misery . she couldn’t imagine a future without him . no matter what the truth was .

because she loved him , unconditionally and relentlessly .

“ i t’ink –– . . . ” she blinked away a few tears , feeling them damp on her cheeks as her mother came into focus , “ i have to go see him . ”

her flight to new york was booked within the hour .

#not me not rememberng what to tag these

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frostedstvrlight · 3 years

Photo

❝DON’T YOU EVER TAME YOUR DEMONS, BUT ALWAYS KEEP ‘EM ON A LEASH.❞

&&. cauldron above, ( kieran talvik ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is affiliated with ( the winter court ). ( he ) is a ( 340 / appears 31 ) year old ( half warrior fae / half high fae ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( matteo martari ). ( he ) has been said to be ( charismatic & resourceful ) but also quite ( cynical & ruthless ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( a knight in the winter court ).

Basic Information

Full Name: Kieran Talvik

Nicknames: Kier

Age: 340 years old, appears 31

Birthday: November 18th

Allegiance: Winter Court (formerly Night Court)

Species: High Fae & Warrior Fae

Occupation: Knight

Sexuality: Eh, probably straight

Physical Description

Height: 6′3″

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Brown

Gender: Cis Male

Wings: Large, sturdy, and black — similar to that of a bat’s with sharp talons

Family

Father: Kazmer Talvik

Mother: Estelle Dulcamara (née Lucero) †

Step Father: Moreno Dulcamara

Sibling(s): Unnamed half siblings via mother

Personality

Positive Traits: resourceful, strategic, charismatic

Negative Traits: cynical, sarcastic, ruthless

History

Kieran was the byproduct of a short-lived affair between Kazmer Talvik, a Warrior Fae & mercenary from the Winter Court, and Estelle Lucero, a High Fae & Duchess in the Night Court. Neither of his parents had any desire to evolve their relationship into more than fleeting lovers, so they parted ways and decided it would be best for Estelle to raise their son. Kazmer's unique lifestyle wasn't suited for a child — not to mention he had zero interest in being a father anyway.

Growing up in the Night Court wasn’t too bad for a while. Of course his mother received plenty of criticism for keeping her bastard son rather than insisting he be raised by his father or even dropping him off at an orphanage. She even let Kieran use her last name as his own (both to legitimize him as her son as well as keep his father’s identity a secret). It wasn’t until Estelle married Moreno Dulcamara that Kieran’s childhood took a turn for the worse. His new step-father didn’t like Kieran being around, but knew that Estelle would leave her husband before abandoning her son. Thus, if he couldn’t get rid of his wife’s ‘little mistake’ he would make Kieran miserable.

The older Night Fae wasn’t publicly abusive to Kieran, preferring to put Kieran through hell behind closed doors. His words were cold and demeaning, always aiming to pierce his unwanted stepson’s fragile heart. But worst of all, he plagued the younger fae’s mind with nightmares. When Kieran’s half siblings were born Moreno kept their interaction with Kieran to a minimum. Constantly being excluded from the family — an outsider in the Court as well as within his home — hurt far more than Kieran let on. His mother was the only light in his life for many years. Fitting, since her name gave her the title of Star of the Night Court. Looking back, he should have told her about his stepfather’s cruelty. He’d kept quiet about the abuse because, somehow, Moreno made her happy and he didn’t want to ruin what she viewed as the perfect family. Maybe deep down he had also feared that if he asked her to chose between him or Moreno and her other children, she would stay with them.

His mother’s death was unexpected and shook Kieran to the core. Not only because he had lost the one person in his life who loved him, but because he was there when she was murdered. The only thing that was meant to be out of the ordinary on what should have been a routine diplomatic trip was that Kieran had been permitted to accompany her on it. But halfway to their destination they’d been attacked. Kieran was young and his mother, although High Fae, had very little experience with fighting. At most she had her magic and at the very least a basic knowledge of self defense. Unfortunately brute strength overpowered magic and Estelle was killed. Kieran felt completely powerless. Frozen in fear and unable to do anything to help his mother. For whatever reason their assailants chose to spare Kieran; perhaps they had a soft spot for the young. Or maybe they knew that keeping him alive was a worse fate than letting him parish alongside his mother. They left him with wounds that weren’t fatal, but would heal into unfading scars.

If Moreno hadn’t resented Kieran before, he certainly did after Estelle’s death. He blamed the boy for not being able to save her as well as not dying with her. The survivor’s guilt was immense. With Estelle gone from their lives, Moreno no longer had any reason to keep Kieran around. His stepfather stripped him of his title and banished him from his childhood home. Anyone who hadn’t seen Kieran return from the attack thought he had died alongside Estelle — a rumor Moreno never shed the light of truth upon. Only around a hundred old at that time, Kieran was still fairly young in fae-terms. And with nowhere else to go he left the Night Court and began the search for his father in Winter.

It took a little while to locate a mercenary who was almost always on the move, but he finally did it. Kazmer was reluctant to take Kieran in, but begrudgingly did after hearing of Estelle’s death and Moreno kicking him out. Unfortunately being reunited with family didn’t mean Kieran’s life would be any easier. Kazmer thought his son was soft and if he was going to survive in the vicious world of mercenary work he needed to toughen up. The training Kieran was put through to was brutal. He received as much paternal love from Kazmer as he had from Moreno, but the pain his father subjected him to was more physical than anything else. He also had Kieran change his last name from Lucero, his mother’s maiden name, to Talvik.

Kazmer turned Kieran into the ruthless fighter he is today. His father hardened his heart and turned his skin to steel. For quite some time he took up Kaz’s line of work, but was eventually persuaded to take his talents to knighthood. Being a knight is certainly a nobler profession than what he used to do, but that doesn’t mean that Kieran’s morals have become anything more than gray and questionable at best.

#ahqintro #kieran / introduction #tw: death

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kieranducky · 4 years

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I am dying to hear about your Sean and Dutch content tbh

Oh jeez okay well uh

... I’m gonna put it under the cut because I’m embarrassed. Warnings for like, obvious (legal) age differences and Horny (Dom/sub dynamics, mild feminization, and just general roughing up Do Occur). And just fyi I’m not trying to set up like, a perfect model of how to have that kinda sex and negotiate kinks so please don’t come for me for stuff not being realistic or accurate, I know it’s not ajfhkjgf

It’s a modern au where Sean’s in college (like 21? 22? He took a gap year and ended up studying abroad in the States), probably an aspiring comic but taking Gen-Ed or History because his dad wants him to get an education. Dutch is a recent regular at the college bar Sean and all his friends go to every weekend, and he’s an absolute miserable fuck in his.... 40s?, who’s recently broken up with his fiance (Molly of course, wink wonk). It’s just the closest bar to his house, of course, and that’s the only reason he frequents it so often. Of course.

So they meet there, Dutch takes Sean home and it’s... Absolutely a rebound fuck. Sean’s young and Irish and peppy and bratty and reminds Dutch of Molly (Molly's much older than Sean, probably in her early thirties, but still) so of course he ends up getting a little bit obsessed.

And Sean’s like, well aware of how gross and creepy this situation is, and Dutch is, but Dutch is Not Unattractive and absolutely simping for him and Sean’s kind of... Into it. Sean ends up spoiled and get’s whatever he wants out of Dutch because he’s infatuated and doesn’t exactly strictly enforce the rules he tries to set. (It’s more like “oh you broke a rule you have to suck my dick” vs “you broke a rule you can’t cum for three days”, so for Sean it isn’t really a punishment).

And they’re not dating, just fucking around, which is nice for the both of them. Sean calls Dutch up for rides home from class (he shares an apartment with Kieran, Mary Beth, and Tilly) and sucks his dick in the parking lot. Sean learns pretty quickly that Dutch likes calling himself Daddy and whips that one out whenever he really wants something (calling Dutch at 9pm on a Tuesday like “Daddy I’ve been thinking about you all day, I need you to come over, oh and bring a pizza on your way, pepperoni extra cheese”), and Dutch is... A little bit in love with Sean’s ass, and calling it a pussy and feminizing him (hahaha I wonder why that is).

There’s a side plot where Arthur works at that college bar and Sean also hooks up with him sometimes, but they’re much chummier with one another and it’s less... Transactional? I guess? Sean annoys him and gets in his way during his shift so Arthur roughs him up as soon as he get’s out of work, get’s his big hand around Sean’s neck and fucks him out back behind the dumpsters, grips his hips so tightly there’s bruises after. Then Arthur walks Sean home with his arm over his shoulders and Sean snuggling into his side as best he can standing up, and Arthur makes sure someone tucks him into bed.

Uhh and there’s another where Hosea visits Dutch to check in on him, probably a month or so into him and Sean seeing each other. He and Dutch have been in love for a really long time but have never been in a... Proper, formal, monogamous relationship, even though they’ve been seeing each other for decades (even when Dutch and Molly were together 😬 which probably contributed to their uh... Relationship problems). But Dutch is still a mess, of course. His sink and counter are covered in dirty dishes, his place is a mess, he’s been wearing the same shirt covered in pizza grease and cum stains for the past week. Hosea brings him breakfast and they’re eating when Sean comes out of Dutch’s room in one of his shirts, leans right over Dutch and steals half of his bagel, and when Hosea greets him (with a very curt “um. Hello.”) Sean’s just like “’sup” and goes back to what he was doing.

Hosea decides that this will absolutely not do, tells Dutch to do his dishes, and has a little sit down with Sean.

And Sean’s like... An absolute brat to him, probably even more than Dutch, because Hosea’s trying to be strict and authoritative and Sean has a problem with authority. Eventually Hosea just... gives him a safeword, brings him into Dutch’s bedroom and puts him over his knee. He spanks him just bare handed (no riding crop or anything, even though I. Definitely would like to see Hosea with a riding crop), and counts, and every so often stops to ask Sean if he’s had enough and he’s ready to be good, and at first Sean’s like. Fuck this guy, this isn’t so bad. But soon enough his ass is red and he’s overwhelmed and crying a little, and begging and promising that he’ll behave, and Hosea’s very pleased. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

And Hosea takes really good care of Sean after... He gives him a shower and washes him really gently, and then let’s Sean take a nap with his head on Hosea’s chest while he reads. Dutch comes in after cleaning his living room and finally taking a shower himself and is like “haha how the fuck did you do that.”

And that’s what I’ve got so far, feel free to ask me more about any of this!! I like talking about this stuff a lot

#sean macguire #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #nsft #mind the warnings #and please be nice to molly she is living her best life #rdr2 #look at me being brave and putting fandom tags...#daddy kink dutch au #is what i've historically called this #you get to suffer with me #Anonymous

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

could you maybe write something about Arthur falling in love with a rival gang member? like a bit like romeo and juliet or something, you can choose the ending, thx :)

I tried to keep this one short but then I puked out like thirteen pages, so have fun, Anon! Thanks for sending this in!

You’ve been running with the O’Driscolls for many years. Most of your life, really. Ever since you were a young teen. You’d been living with your parents and older sister in a cabin on the border of Ambarino and New Hanover. When you were thirteen, you had a habit of dressing like a boy even though you’re a girl. You just preferred the more comfortable, free moving clothing that boys wore and you kept your hair short to spite your mother. She’d been trying to push the woman’s lifestyle on you and you were just not having it. In order to rebel against her, you cut your hair so it was only a few inches long.

Your father didn’t care how you looked or dressed, he thought you should do what felt right. He taught you how to hunt and shoot a gun when you were young, and he did this with your older sister as well. She didn’t take to it as well as you did as she didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She was too much like your mother and you were like your father. He was the one who bought you pants and button-down shirts to wear and a hat to shelter your eyes and head.

It was the combination of your clothes, hair and that you always seemed to be covered in earth or dust from the road that saved your life. At the age of fourteen, the O’Driscolls came to your cabin one night. It was only a small group of them, but Colm O’Driscoll heard a rumor that your father was wealthy and just pretended to be poor for the sake of appearances.

This was true as your grandfather had been a railway magnate until he’d been forced out of his business and decided on a simpler, less stressful life. He’d left his fortune to your father, who decided to hide his inheritance. Your family lived on a small ranch, which made it easy to pretend like you had just enough to get by. But somehow word had slipped out about your family’s money and Colm came to steal it.

Colm and seven of his men barged their way into your cabin. They shot your father only seconds after breaking the door down, then your mother. Colm’s men grabbed your sister and dragged her off into the night. You never saw her again, though you still sometimes hear her screams when trying to sleep. Colm looked hard at you and thought, because of your appearance, that you were a boy.

“You’re gonna be one of us, boy,” he said in his oddly soft voice. “You’re gonna be one of us or end up like your daddy.”

You just nodded and went with them. You were forced to join the gang but you knew the consequences for trying to run. Of course, you also continued to dress like a boy. As you grew, you started growing your hair out to respect your mother in her death. Luckily plenty of Colm’s men had longer hair, so they suspected nothing. That changed when you started to grow older and parts of your body visibly changed. You had to wear a tight wrap around your chest, but there was nothing you could do about your wider hips. You managed to threaten a tailor to make a duster with padded shoulders to make them look bigger and hide your feminine figure.

Years passed from when Colm destroyed your family and you stayed in his gang. You would have left when you were close to twenty, but you knew what would happen if you deserted. One boy made this mistake and Colm hunted him down and within days of him leaving, Colm killed him. The matter of his death was neither easy or quick, so you knew if you left, the same thing would happen to you.

Of course it wasn’t easy being in Colm’s gang. Since you were smaller than most the others, you got picked on a lot and you got stuck with some of the more unpleasant tasks, like shoveling horse shit and cleaning up after the others.

Shortly after you were incorporated into the gang, you’d heard of Dutch Van der Linde and his boys. You only knew his name and that he and Colm were rivals. Every once in a while, you’d hear about them interfering with one another’s work, but whenever you asked why Colm had such a fury towards Dutch, the others would just tell you to shut up. You thought for a long time that Colm detested this Dutch just because he was another gang leader and they happened to cross one another frequently.

You’ve been in the gang more than ten years now. Ten long, miserable years. You want nothing more than to get out, but to do so means your inevitable death. You also know it can take mere seconds for Colm to figure out you’re a woman. He doesn’t like women in the gang, says they only slow the gang down. If and when he finds out, he’ll happily put a bullet in your head.

Colm has never liked you much. You think the only reason he brought you into the gang was because you were a child. Maybe Colm has something against killing kids or maybe he just thought you might have potential. You don’t take his malcontent personally. He doesn’t like most the men he runs with, only keeps them around because they’re good with guns and sometimes manage to pull a score successfully.

You’ve climbed up in his ranks though. You had no choice. In order to survive and to hide your gender, you learned quickly. Even though you knew how to shoot a pistol and a varmint rifle, you had to learn how to shoot a bigger gun. So you taught yourself. Colm’s boys taught you the craft of acting mean, targeting people and robbing them. You were good too. Perhaps it was just your feminine intuition on how to play people since you couldn’t physically fight too well because of your size, but you had a knack for tricking people and robbing them blind. Colm appreciated this and you moved up quickly.

You hate him though. No matter what he does or how much money you get through him, you hate him. You’d like nothing more than to slit his throat while he sleeps. But you’re afraid of him too. The first time you’d ever seen him was putting a bullet in your father and then killing your mother. You know he had something to do with your sister and there’s little doubt in your mind he ravaged her and then killed her too. Only a monster could be capable of that, to orphan a child and then force them to work for the one who killed their family.

You walk into the bar in Valentine, thirsty and sore. The past few days have been hell. For some dumb reason, Colm decided a couple weeks back to move the gang up to some fallen apart town near Colter. Then you all got trapped there during a blizzard. He’d been out with some of his boys when the blizzard hit. He came back with his right hand man, a fat man with a bushy beard named Hoskins. The others never returned, but Colm figured the idiots had gotten lost and died in the snow.

He told you and some of the other higher ups that you were all up here to rob a train owned by Leviticus Cornwall. You’d heard the name of course. He was a big, but impossible target. Cornwall was known to go after any idiot who robbed him with a vengeance. Colm told you all to stay up here for another couple of days before the robbery. Then he sent one of the newer members, some fidgety nervous guy named Kieran, out to scout for the train. He left and told you and some of the others to go hunt some game to keep everyone fed.

You split off from the others and managed to find a deer grazing out in the frozen wilderness, but when you came back to the hideout, it was littered with corpses. Only a few men were left standing. When Colm returned and found out the plans for the train robbery had been stolen, he lost it. He hit one of the other men right in the face. Only you seemed to notice that the kid, Kieran, hadn’t returned, but you said nothing.

Colm set his hands on the back of a rickety chair and glared into a lamp.

“There’s only one fella stupid enough and bold enough to steal a score from me. Goddamn Van der Linde. Well, I have a surprise for him. This is the last time he steals from me. I heard he and his bunch are wanted in Blackwater. Hoskins, you’ll help me find a way to get him.”

You rarely saw Colm after that, but he moved the gang to Hanging Dog Ranch in Big Valley. He ordered you and the others to hunt for new scores and for the whereabouts of Dutch and his boys.

You’ve been riding for days with hardly any sign of either gang. That’s why you’re in this shit hole of a town Valentine. Always muddy, always smelling of shit. You rap on the bar and order a beer. You’re in need of a bath, but you need to go back to camp tomorrow. You’ve been gone long enough and they might start to think you’ve deserted. Despite your hatred towards Colm, you do feel a strange sense of obligation towards him. Despite him having destroyed your family and livelihood, he taught you how to fight, how to rob and how to get away with it. Perhaps that’s just a lie you tell yourself. Maybe the only reason you’re loyal to him is because you’ve been part of his gang most your life.

Just as you’re finishing your beer, the doors swing open and a man walks in. You only glance at him for a second and spot his leather hat and blue shirt. He stalks towards the barber’s seat and gets his hair and beard trimmed. After he’s done, he comes and leans on the bar not too far from you. He orders a beer as well.

Something about him intrigues you. It’s rare for you to take an interest in men, and in this town he’s not out of style. Hell, he’s covered in dirt and his clothes are years old, from the looks of them. Still, he has this force and presence that drags your attention to him. You study him for a moment.

He glances over at you and your eyes meet. He’s got stunning blue eyes. You blink and look away. You both ignore each other and buy a few more drinks. After your third, you decide that’s enough and start to head out. Just as you leave the bar, you collide with the man.

“Sorry,” you say, forgetting in that split second to make your voice sound deep and gravelly. You’re usually so careful, but when you’re not around the gang, it’s harder to maintain.

The man lowers his brow, clearly confused. “It’s alright, mi… well, can I call ya miss?”

He looks you up and down, clearly confused. After all, your disguise is very convincing.

“Sure,” you say. “Long as you don’t tell no one else.”

He huffs a small laugh. “And who’d I tell that I met a young woman who looked just like a young, very small man?”

You smile. “I guess no one.”

He tips his hat. “You have a fine day, sir.” He gets on his horse and rides off.

************************

You’ve bumped into this man a few more times since that first meeting. You found a mutilated corpse under the railroad and he did too at pretty much the same time. Another day, you stumbled upon a strange rock carving near the Cumberland River and he showed up only seconds later. Another time, you were just heading back to Hanging Dog Ranch and you saw him in the big meadow skinning a pronghorn. You’ve never crossed paths with a stranger so often.

You’re in Valentine again and just heading over to the train station. A couple months back, you bumped into some annoying feller who offered you money for bundles of cigarette cards, and you’ve finally found enough that they might be worth something. Hopefully this idiot wasn’t pulling your leg. Just as you’re about to reach the doors, they open and the man you’ve met a handful of times comes out.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says, then stops. His eyes rake over you and he smiles. “Again? How many times you and I gonna cross paths?”

You smile. “Don’t get the impression that I’m following you, that’s not what’s happening.”

He smiles back. “Course not. Well, don’t let me keep ya.”

You’ve never been a big believer in fate or destiny, but the fact that you’ve run into this man so often has got to be more than mere coincidence. As he starts walking over to his horse, you turn.

“Sir, we keep bumping into each other. Now I don’t believe in divine interference when it comes to people and their lives, but… there’s gotta be a reason we keep running into each other. Let me buy you a beer.”

He grins. “That’s awful kind o’ ya, miss. Guess I can grab a drink. Though not Smithfield’s. Bar owner ain’t too keen on me right now.”

You agree and go to the smaller, quieter saloon in Valentine. You make good on your promise and buy him a drink. There, you both get to talking and introduce yourselves properly (though not entirely honestly).

“So tell me,” Arthur says, setting his bottle down. “Why’s a girl like you dressin’ like a man? Judgin’ by how well you do it, my guess is you’ve done it a long time.”

You sigh. “It’s…. It’s a long, boring story. Let’s just say it’s safer for me to dress like this than a woman. No offence, but men have a disgusting habit of targeting women because we’re the weaker sex.”

He smiles a bit. “Yes we certainly have a habit of doin’ that. However, I know you’re leavin’ somethin’ out.”

“How would you know?”

“Because,” he says, “you’re way too vague and you’re the only woman I seen dressed like this. So what’s the real story?”

You know you can’t tell him about Colm’s gang, but perhaps you can just tell him a vague bit of the truth.

“I run with a bunch of boys who aren’t too keen on runnin’ with women. Guess they don’t really like us, I don’t know. In order to keep on runnin’ with ‘em, I dress like this. They buy it well enough.”

“Don’t seem like a particularly good bunch if they can’t handle you bein’ a lady. Why don’t you just leave?”

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you say, hiding your eyes beneath your hat. “Let’s just say they ain’t keen on people abandoning them.”

He doesn’t press further and then he thanks you for the drink. You kind of hope you don’t see him again, he already knows too much about you for your own safety.

Just as you’re leaving Valentine, Colm and Hoskins bump into you.

“There you are, you son of a bitch,” Colm snarls when he sees you. This is a usual greeting so you think nothing of it. “Saddle up, boy. We gotta go to Six Point.”

“Why?” you say, mounting up on your horse.

“I left Lowman and McCann up there with some of the others. They were supposed to stash the money from that stage robbery and meet us at Hangin’ Dog. I ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em. Little bastards better not be dead drunk.”

You ride with the two to the cabin Colm sometimes uses as a hideout. You find the other men scattered around, dead but not drunk. Colm’s furious again and he kicks a bucket halfway across the site. He investigates the cabin and finds the money gone, as well as a double-barrelled shotgun he had mounted up on the chimney.

“You, boy,” he points at you. “You stay here. Get this shit cleaned up, and stay here until I come for you in case the shits who did this come back.”

“You want me here alone in case a possible group of expert gunman come back?” you say, not liking the odds.

“Yeah, don’t be yella. Just do what you’re told. I’ll come get ya in a few days.”

***********************

What Colm said would be a few days has turned into a few weeks. He’s had you stake out places like this before, so you know the drill: sniff out any possible leads from the closest town. While you’ve been trying to dig up clues, you bump into that Arthur Morgan time and time again.

The first time you did since buying him a drink, he offered to buy you one. After that, whenever you meet, you both go for drinks and get to know one another a little better. It isn’t long before you start to feel a sense of friendship towards him. He’s just as vague on his lifestyle as you are, but you don’t push out of respect. Before long, Arthur asks you to meet him in places to go hunting. He seems to like the company.

After one particularly long day, you part his company in Valentine and return to Six Point. You spend the next couple of days missing him. You miss him more than anyone else you’ve ever known and that’s when you’re hit with it: you like him.

The next time you meet, you try to keep things cool between you and him, but you can’t help but stare at him. He is handsome after all. Plus you know that while his temper can be quick to flare up, he can be incredibly gentle and caring. There was one time you both stumbled into a cabin where the occupants had died due to a fire. The cabin was relatively intact and it looked like they’d died from the gas. Arthur picked up a pen and a children’s book. When you questioned him on this, he just smiled.

“I have a couple of friends who mentioned they wanted a pen and a book like this.”

“Ah, so if I was to ask you to fetch me somethin’, would you get it?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

“Of course. Anythin’ in mind?”

You were almost surprised, but happy. “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind a watch. I accidentally dropped mine and it broke a couple days back. Haven’t had the chance to replace it.”

He smiled and promised to bring you one. The next time you saw him, he had it. When your fingers brushed his, he blushed. Was it possible he had something for you too?

From then on, your relationship with Arthur changed. There was just a sense of electricity between you both, like you were magnetized. You went from purposefully bumping your hand into his to touching his upper arms and shoulders to brushing his hair when he had his hat off. It wasn’t long after that when you had your first kiss. It had taken you completely by surprise.

You’d both been drinking heavily that night and you were doing everything to control yourself with him. You’d been more attracted to him than ever, but you weren’t sure if he liked you too. However, in your drunken phase, the candlelight hit him just right and you just leaned over and kissed him. He was taken by surprise, but when you started to pull away, he stopped you and crashed his lips to yours.

After that night, the two of you met almost daily, even if it was just for five minutes. Arthur kissed you as often as he could. It didn’t take long before the two of you finally made love. You’d been out hunting and it rained hard, chilling you both to the bone. You were both forced to strip down to your undergarments as your clothes had been soaked. You nestled close to one another and one thing led to another and you ended up sleeping with him. Arthur was more than satisfactory in bed, he knew how to push buttons you weren’t even aware existed. He seemed pleased with your performance as well.

After having sex with him, you start to feel guilty for hiding so much from him. You’ve made love to him several times now and you feel incredibly close to him. More than anyone else you’ve known. He makes you feel like you don’t have to hide, you can be yourself. Perhaps now is the time you open up about your past.

You meet Arthur in the saloon, where you always arrange to meet. You’ve made up your mind when you walk up to him. He smiles when he sees you and wraps an arm around you. He kisses you softly, not caring who might be around to see.

“Well, should we go off huntin’ or do you wanna hit the hotel first and have a little fun?” he asks with a small growl.

You blush a bit. “I’d love to go have some fun, but… we need to talk first.”

His smile fades, but he nods. You feel even more guilty, the poor man probably thinks you’re going to break up with him. You take his hand and lead him outside to your horses and mount up. You lead him away from the town where you won’t be overheard.

You dismount and Arthur follows suit. He walks over but doesn’t touch you, clearly under the impression you’re going to end things.

“Arthur I… I feel I owe you an explanation,” you say, looking at your feet. “I haven’t been honest with you. Most of the things I’ve said have been little less than lies.”

He furrows his brow, clearly taken aback by this. You look up at him.

“I don’t want to lie anymore, Arthur. I’m….” you prepare yourself for the worst. Most men you can think of would be upset at dating an outlaw. “I’m an outlaw. The boys I run with are a gang.”

He sighs and smiles. “Jesus, darlin’! You nearly scared me to death!”

You look at him in shock. “What?”

“Honey, I don’t care that you’re an outlaw. You wanna hear one of my secrets?” He grabs your hands and leans in. “I’m an outlaw too. I run with a gang. Men, women, even a kid. Not my kid, course, but he’s a good boy.”

You smile up at him, your gut feeling considerably lighter. “Oh thank God. Can I ask which gang?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I run with Dutch Van der Linde.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Van der Linde?” you say.

He nods. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You swallow. “Possibly. Arthur, I… I run with the O’Driscolls.”

He lowers his brow and his eyes widen. His hands let go of yours. “The O’Driscolls? You run with those assholes?”

“Arthur, I can explain. It wasn’t really my decision and-”

“Save it,” he growls. “Your gang has caused nothin’ but heartbreak and anger for my gang. Van der Linde is like a father to me and Colm killed his girl.”

“And Van der Linde killed his brother!” you say. You’re not really sure why you’re getting defensive, but you know one thing: Arthur has a huge problem with your truth.

“Word is Colm hated his brother more than anyone else,” Arthur snarls. “But he killed Dutch’s girl. They were gonna get married! And you run with those fools? I can’t even tell ya how much trouble you’re bunch has caused us?”

You blink away some tears. “I thought… Arthur, I thought you wouldn’t care. Just because I run with them doesn’t mean I’m like them. I hate Colm more than you can know, but I can’t get out.”

“No one’s forced to do nothin’. You can leave whenever you want. But I’m gonna tell ya somethin’, Y/N.” His eyes darken and he squares his jaw. “If you choose to stay with them, you and I can’t be together no more. I refuse to be associated with a goddamn O’Driscoll.”

You lower your head and look down. You want nothing more than to leave, but if you do, Colm will butcher you. “I want nothing more than to run away from him, Arthur. But… he’ll kill me.”

He sighs heavily. “So you’re gonna choose to be a coward. Well, forget about things with me then, Y/N. I refuse to waste my time on an O’Driscoll.”

His words sting and he marches over to his horse, mounting up and leaves. Out of all the things that could have happened when you decided to come clean, this was not it. Your chest suddenly tightens painfully and your stomach just feels like it’s gone. You take a step over to the cliff’s edge and sit down. You’ve never despised your gang more. They’ve taken everything from you. Your family, your freedom, and now your lover. You can’t say you blame Arthur for leaving and you can understand his loyalty to his gang. He’s also right about you and you feel like a coward.

After a bit, you get yourself up and ride off to Six Point. When you get there, you finally let yourself cry. How can you go on with your gang now? You’d been so happy with Arthur, happier than you’ve been in years, and now it’s gone. Life with your gang seems even darker than before.

*************************

The next day, Colm comes, but he doesn’t want you to return to the gang’s hideout yet.

“Turns out Van der Linde was behind the massacre here,” he says. “Only one way he could’ve known about this place. That coward Kieran must’ve been behind this. I also heard a rumor.” He glares at you. “One of my boys said he saw you talkin’ with a fella named Arthur Morgan. You know he’s one of Dutch’s boys, right?”

You swallow. “Yes. I was merely telling him this is our turf and he should get lost.”

“I see, though I doubt it. From what my boy was tellin’, you looked like you were friendly with him. More than friendly even. I can handle one of my men feelin’ attracted to other men, as long as they don’t act on it. But I will not accept anyone falling for a Van der Linde, you got me, boy?”

You nod your head. “Yes, sir. I am not attracted to Morgan, but I understand.”

“You always was a bad liar. Now I need to go somewhere for a few more days, but when I come back, you’re comin’ with me. Now if I hear you’re fraternizing with any more of Dutch’s boys, you ain’t gonna like what I do to ya.”

With that, Colm stomps out of the cabin and rides off. You’re left shaken. “Goddamn it, Arthur,” you say quietly. “Why must you be… you?”

****************************

Two days later, you’re still at Six Point. You haven’t left the cabin since Colm threatened you. You’re sure he’s staked out some of his men in Valentine to keep an eye on you. As far as Arthur goes, you’ve heard and seen nothing. You miss him more than you care to admit, but you’ve already given up on ever seeing him again. He made it perfectly clear how he feels about you.

You’re beginning to wonder if running and taking your chances would be worth staying with Colm. After all, it’s not like you get much money from his jobs and you’re no more safer staying than you are running. He’s turned around and shot his men several times over stupid things. You weren’t one of them out of mere chance. More than that though, you’re tired of hiding. Hiding who you are and what you look like.

Just as you’re beginning to think of a plan of escape, where you’ll go and what you’ll do, a knock comes on the door of Six Point. It’s not Colm. He never knocks. Perhaps it’s just a weary traveller in need of shelter from the torrential rain outside. You readjust your high bun and put your hat back on, pulling the masculine disguise back together.

When you open the door, you don’t find a traveller. Arthur’s standing on the porch, his hat in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you say quietly, trying to cover your emotions. Your voice is surprisingly steady. You fold your arms around yourself, waiting for his anger.

“I came to apologize for the things I said, Y/N,” he says softly. “I know I made some assumptions without botherin’ to ask you if they’re true. I know you ain’t runnin’ with Colm out of affection. He’s the reason you gotta dress like a man, I’m guessing.”

You nod and take your hat off. “Yes. If he ever finds out, I’m dead.”

Arthur purses his lips a bit. “Well, darlin’, I… I’m wonderin’ if I can propose somethin’ to ya.” He waits for you to respond. When you don’t, he goes on. “I was thinkin’ you could abandon Colm, come with me into my gang. You’d be the safest there.”

You look up at Arthur. “Does Dutch know? Does he know that I’m an O’Driscoll?”

He sighs. “I told him about ya. He knows. He… weren’t too happy when I told him how I feel about ya. But I told him you’re little more than a prisoner with Colm. You’re only loyal out of fear.”

You sigh and turn around to face the interior of the cabin. “I’m guessing it’s not enough to convince this Dutch to let me in. He’ll probably question my loyalty to him as well.” You turn and look at Arthur. “If I stay here, I’ll remain a prisoner. But if I go with you, I’ll still be a prisoner. Arthur, I’m trapped no matter what I do.”

He walks in after you. “Not if I have anythin’ to say about it. It ain’t like I’m bringin’ ya in against your will. I got a lot of weight in my gang, Y/N. If I say you’re stayin’ and you’re alright, Dutch will listen to me. It’ll help a lot when he sees how useful you are to have around. Just help with the work and you’ll be accepted soon enough. I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy, but it might be the best chance you have.”

He waits for you to respond. He’s right, of course. You know you’re already walking a thin line with Colm and it’s only going to get thinner. Arthur may very well be your salvation and, like he said, within the ranks of Colm’s greatest enemies is where you’ll be safest.

“Do I have to keep on disguising myself?” you ask.

Arthur smiles. “Absolutely not. We got plenty o’ women in camp and none of ‘em are ashamed of looking like women.”

You smile and reach up, undoing your bun. It feels good to let your hair flow down just past your collarbones. You run a hand through it, aware you need a shower. You quickly change into a set of more feminine clothes, which you bought with Arthur a few weeks back. After washing your face, you look hardly recognizable from the man the O’Driscolls think you are. You’ll be able to slip past them easily enough.

“Okay, Mr. Morgan,” you say. “Take me to Van der Linde.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female #awkward asks

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offbrand-outlaw · 5 years

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Van der Linde Gang, but they're sick because I am

I haven't been feeling well, so obviously that means the gang can't feel well either.

It's Micah's fault. Everyone is mad at him.

The older people in camp are some of the first ones to go down. Uncle in particular makes a big show of it, he complains all about his aches and pains...nonstop.

Strauss is grumpy the whole time and is regularly caught glaring at Swanson (because he gave it to him) but they stay close during the recovery period. Swanson has a habit of mumbling incoherently and Strauss just nods along.

Everything in camp really falls apart when Hosea and Grimshaw get sick. Dutch is so busy hovering over Hosea he ends up getting sick pretty fast too. Dutch, like Uncle, is a bit of a drama queen about it and he snuggles up real close to Hosea and talks about The Good Old Days like they're dying.

Hosea is miserable because, even when they're sick, Dutch just never stops talking. When he isn't talking? He's asleep and snoring right in Hosea's ear.

Arthur goes down next, he had been helping Dutch take care of Hosea. He knows at this point whatever the sickness is it's contagious so he confines himself to bed. Lots of rest for this cowboy!

John goes down and drags Jack and Abigail down with him. Abigail is suffering because both of them are whining hardcore and can't handle being sick. Lots of family snuggles though so she figures she can deal with it.

When Javier gets sick everyone knows because he's very upset about it. He makes a deal to kind of go off on everyone about cleanliness and all that. Even so, he finds playing soft music is enough to help him and the others relax enough to get some sleep.

Tilly and Mary-Beth make stew after Pearson gets sick. He appreciates their help and he tells them about some extra goods to throw in to help fill everyone up. Though, not long after Tilly and Mary-Beth both get sick too after they hand everyone their stew. They kind of regret bring so helpful.

Molly and Karen are mad about being sick and they're constantly bickering about who got who sick. They're caught taking power naps together.

Kieran didn’t realize why he didn’t feel good until it was too late. Sean and Lenny found him by the horses, and dragged him over to an extra bedroll so he didn’t have to sleep in the dirt. He ended up getting them sick and he felt bad, but they didn’t care because they were just happy he was more comfortable now. They spend the time together looking after each other and trying to make each other life so even though they aren’t feeling too well at least they aren’t totally miserable.

Sadie is, somehow, the only person who doesn’t get sick. She kind of looks after everyone and makes and effort to check in on Arthur, Jack, and Abigail often. Seeing everyone so sick reminds her of the times she had to look after Jake and it kind of makes her sad but she tries not to dwell on it.

Charles ended up getting sick because he looked after Arthur. Since Arthur doesn’t ask for help when he needs it, he was the one to care for him. He isn’t as sick as everyone else, who are all mostly bedridden, so he kind of makes sure everyone pulls through. He doesn’t mind being sick all that much because he and Arthur can get down time together without having to leave camp for some peace and quiet.

Bill gets sick the worst. For some reason, even after everyone else is okay, he is bedridden for at least three more days and he can’t really get out of bed without help. He is very quiet and he doesn’t like people seeing him this way, but there isn’t much he can do about it so he just doesn’t say much. Cain hovers around him and people are actually nicer so he’s grateful he has people to look after him when he’s not in shape. Micah swings by to tease him and Hosea scolds and shoos him away. Bill is almost in tears.

Josiah wandered into camp, saw everyone sick, and ran as fast as he could. It didn’t matter because when he got home, his boys were sick and ended up getting him sick too. He helped his wife look after them while he could but after a while he had to crawl into bed with them and be looked after too. He is kind of a baby when he’s sick so his wife teased him mercilessly about it.

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somethinwickedthiswayrides · 5 years

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Animal Affinity

So I had a thought rolling around in my head, about the reader having an uncanny affinity for animals, like Fallout's 'Animal Friend' perk levels of affinity. So, this is what I came up with, this is my first ever delve into headcanon territory and I haven't been playing RDR2 for very long, so please forgive me if someones out of character.

Reader is Gender-neutral, but I wrote it with a female in mind. Sorry if it's a bit long, I wanted to include everyone in camp and use different animals.

They always said they had this strange way with animals, they couldn't really explain it, but animals never attacked them and didn't really spook around them. No one really believed them until they saw it.

Cougar;

Arthur, Sean, Javier, and you were out on a scouting trip of a house not to far north of the Black Bone Forest, they decided to make camp for the night and were joking around and trying to not knock Sean's loud mouth out.

You were all knocked out of your reverie when you suddenly felt hot breath on the back of your neck which was soon followed by a powerful bunt to your shoulder. The looks on your partners faces were concerned as they slowly reached for their sidearms.

You slowly turned and there was a cougar blinking at you. With a small smile you reached up and gave the lesser cat some scratches and the cat slowly came around and plopped its entire front half into your lap, gently purring.

Sean wanted to scream, but was too confused as to the how and why of a cougar laying in your lap like that was where it belonged. He settled for muttering 'what the fuck' under his breath.

Javier stayed tense the entire time, never really quite sure if the large cat was going to try and maul them or it just wanted petting.

Arthur slowly pulled out his journal to sketch out the scene before him, having never been this close to an animal that usually wanted to claw his face off.

You and the other hand were used to this and simply let the large cat lay in your lap while you gave all the love and attention the cat wanted, before it decided it was enough and stalked back off into the forest, leaving behind the small camp.

Wolf;

You, Lenny, and John were having a small camp out after a few successful stagecoach robberies, and were taking a break before heading back into camp. Everyone was joking and having a good time when a whimper caught everyone's attention. You all turned and saw a limping lone wolf, what looked like porcupine quills were sticking out of its leg and around its mouth.

"Oh, you poor thing," you exclaimed, "here, let me help you." With that you left your spot and slowly made your way to the miserable pup, ignoring John and Lenny's whisper shouts.

They watched in awe as you calmed the wolf and as gently as your could, plucked out the offending quills. The wolf, quite happy that it no longer had those painful irritations stuck in it, wagged its tail and licked your face, trying to worm his tongue in your mouth in what it thought was a proper thank you.

Lenny, having heard about the cougar incident, was a bit more relaxed then John, but still wary as this was a predator, and didn't want anything happening to you.

John, on the other hand, was nearly having a panic attack. The memories of his last tussle with wolves still fresh in his mind, and he kept his hand on his pistol, just in case the wolf wanted to make you a meal.

Deer;

You and Charles were out in the woods near camp, planning on bringing in a couple deer for Pearson. As he helped you off your horse, he noticed a doe with her fawn, and gently smiled at the sight.

Charles smile only grew when the young fawn bounded over and nuzzled your hand, looking for scratchies before delightedly prancing back to its mother, its little tail waggling all the while.

Bear;

Arthur had told you where Micah was after he broke him out of the Strawberry jail, and after the ensuing fire fight. Somewhat irritated with him, but also wanting to be sure he didn't die on you just yet, you pack up a few supplies and went out to where he was located. It took a little while, but, you did end up finding him.

You put up with his needling and teasing about being worried about him, but soon you two found yourselves in somewhat of a pleasant conversation. Which was soon stopped when he noticed something entering camp, you looked over and it was a small bear cub. You shushed Micah and told him not to worry as the little cub waddled over, gave you a sniff before deciding that your lap was a great place to take a nap.

You shrugged and gently pet the cub and picked right back up where the conversation had been left, as if you didn't have a bear on your legs. Micah, confused and a bit unnerved continued the conversation and once actually reached out to pet the little bugger himself.

The conversation abruptly cut off once again, this time with a more panicked expression from Micah, mama bear had decided to show up. Once again you shushed the blond man as mama walked her way over to you, gave you a nudge and then gripped her cub by the nape of it's neck, causing the little one to let our a cry of indignation about being ripped away from its comfy bed. Before she nudged it along to wander out of the camp.

Micah had just stared, slack jawed, at the display, there was no need for a fight, no need to defend, just a mother picking up her child from a babysitter. He spared a glance at you, smiling at the bears, and decided that you were either incredibly brave, or exceedingly stupid. Either way, he was slightly afraid of you now.

Wild Horses;

You and Kieran were out having a little ride, since Branwen very seldom left camp, as Kieran very seldom left camp, you decided that a little run around in the open plains would be good for the both of them. So with a few harsh words toward Kieran from the other camp members about keeping you safe, and Dutch's farewell you two set off.

The ride was peaceful, and quiet, there was little in the way of conversation as Kieran wasn't quite sure how to approach you just yet. You had stopped out in near Emerald Ranch, in the little patch of wetlands, to let the horses run around in the water and play, while you two were resting nearby.

There was then a sound of hooves as a herd of wild horses had galloped up to the water for a drink, not too far from you. You gave a smile and stood, making your way to the herd.

Kieran watched amazed as the horses didn't spook from your presence, to the point that you could walk right up to them and give them pats and scratches, cooing at how pretty they were, before pulling out some sugar cubes from your satchel to feed them. The sight put a soft smile on his face as to how calming you were that even the most skittish of horses trusted you.

Snakes;

Nearly all the members of the gang were out on jobs that day, barring the women, little Jack, Pearson, Reverand Swanson, Dutch, and yourself. Karen had just walked up and was relieving you of an all night guard duty. You smiled in appreciation as you turned to make your way back into camp, before you and Karen had to go bolting in at the sound of Tilly and Abigail screaming.

Turns out little Jack had managed to catch himself a snake, and was holding his squirming target trying to show his mother, who was less than pleased. You took a quick look and sighed a breath of relief, deducing that it was a harmless corn snake, though where in the world Jack found it was beyond you.

With a chuckle you gently took the small snake from his grasp, and the little guy coiled around your hand and wrist, content in the warmth you were providing, rather then Jacks tight grip. While the little guy was calming down and warming up you had to gently explain to Jack that he couldn't just pick up a snake he finds, he was lucky that this one wasn't venomous.

Jack nodded and you showed him how to gently pet the little snake, and it gave a happy little wriggle. Which caused Jack to giggle.

Susan, Mary-Beth, Abigail, Tilly, and Molly were too freaked out to really care much about you holding the snake and simply wanted the offensive little bugger out of the camp.

Karen was laughing boisterously about the commotion.

Sadie simply chuckled and said it could've been worse.

Pearson was impressed that the wriggling and hissing little thing had calmed down as soon as you got hold of it, chuckling to himself as he went back to work on the food preparation.

Dutch didn't care too much and simply wanted the thing gone so the women would calm down.

Swanson... He was still dead asleep, having missed the whole thing.

Fox and Coyote;

It was a rather quiet day in the Van der Linde camp. Most everyone was in camp, quietly taking a day of rest and doing their own thing, while others were hard at work doing their chores. Uncle was trying to teach you how to play poker, trying being the key word here.

Everyone's head perked up when Pearson gave a shout and they caught sight of a little fox and coyote leaping around camp and playing. Pearson was trying to shoo them away, but they weren't having any of it.

You gave a small chuckle and got up from the table and cooed at the duo, they couldn't have been more than a couple years old, still young and playful. By this time most everyone had shared their experiences with you and wild animals, and there were a few rumors floating around that you were a witch. But you didn't pay those no mind.

You had managed to catch and calm down the rambunctious pair and called Bill over to give you a hand. Bill, unsure as to why you needed his help, walked over and let out a small grunt of surprise when you plopped the fox down in his arms. The little canine wriggled and squirmed in his arms until you sweet talked it and gave it a little head scratch, and it gave a huff and settled down.

Bill had stared at the little fox in his arms, while you were picking up the coyote, and smiled to himself a bit. Reaching up to scratch at its neck, the little one seemed quite happy with this and snuggled into his arm and chest. Bill was sure he'd melt into a puddle on the spot.

Strauss had watched the goings on from a distance, but didn't seem to care too much before returning to his ledger.

Uncle gave a laugh and made a comment about being able to tame even the mightiest beast. Causing a few laughs, and a couple blushes within the group.

Dutch, now having his full attention, was wondering just how far your affinity with animals could go and if you were able to get them to follow basic commands.

Everyone else simply wanted the little trouble makers out of camp.

Birds;

Another quiet day in camp, it had been rather peaceful as of late so everyone was enjoying it while it lasted. You had taken up your usual feeding spot to watch and listen to the various birds in the area. Several people poked fun at you for feeding the birds, but you paid no mind to it. You were joined by Hosea and Swanson, though they did less feeding and more watching.

Swanson relaxed against the tree with closed eyes and a cup of coffee, enjoying the soothing chips.

Hosea gave a small smile as he watched some of the smaller cardinals resting on your fingers while your palm was covered in seeds. The birds literally eating out of your hand.

All in all, a rather peaceful time. Until a crow with something in it's beak landed by you feet, dropped it object and cawed until it was sure it had your attention, jolting Swanson and Hosea out of their peaceful stupors.

Once the crow had your attention it rolled the object toward your feet before hopping off to partake in the seeds. With a raised brow you reached down and picked up the object, wiping it off, and your jaws dropped. The little crow had gifted you a small gold nugget.

You all looked at each other, and with a small smile you realized that maybe feeding the birds wasn't such a bad idea after all.

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cleoxortiz · 4 years

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𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐨.

( cindy kimberly, cis female ) hey ! have you seen CLEO ORTIZ around ? SHE works as a BARTENDER at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 22 years old & they’ve been working here for TWO WEEKS. they tend to be AMBITIOUS & AUDACIOUS, but can also be VEXING & HUBRISTIC. the other employees have labeled them THE HELLKITE. thanks a lot ! ( the sound of stilettos against marble floors, a menacing smile worn on red lips, the glimmering lights of the manhattan skyline, a silent eye-roll that cuts deeper than words ) [ jocey, 23, est, she/her ]

it’s ya girl jocey and i’m so excited for all the fluffy holiday cUTeNesS! apologizing in advance for the terror that is cleo. she is truly the worst™. but i love the grinch stole christmas, so y’kNOW WHAT? this felt v fitting ok sdkgkgjk. so hit that subscribe like button if ya wanna plot & we can chitty chat on discord!

name : cleo valentina ortiz age : twenty-one sexuality : pansexual hometown : new york city, new york job : bartender at the avalanche pub

━ the ortiz’s didn’t always have a net worth of millions. with humble beginnings in catalonia, spain, the family moved to america a couple generations ago to expand their winery business. it was only then did the family-run business grow by producing, shipping and selling their premium wine brand. eventually they got into the nightlife entertainment business as well, through acquiring and running several bars, clubs and lounges all around america.

━ as the second and youngest child born to miguel and selena, it was never in the books for cleo to take over the family business. a traditional man, her father had always groomed her older brother, adrian, to be his successor. her father’s bias always left her feeling bitter and resentful, and only drove her ambitions and determination to prove him wrong. the more he kept her at arm’s length, the more driven she was to find an in.

━ unfortunately, her mother, a socialite/philanthropist herself, also had different plans for cleo - something along the lines of becoming a debutante and her daughter following in her footsteps. from being forced into piano lessons, ballet and etiquette classes, she absolutely despised the person her family wanted to mold her into. both stubborn in wanting to get their way, cleo and her mother’s differences pulled their mother-daughter relationship further and further apart.

━ even her mom’s passing when she was 14 did little to change cleo’s opinion in the matter. she claimed she didn’t care about the woman’s death, nor did it affect her whatsoever, and she will gladly tell anyone that. but the fact that she currently attended columbia university, her mom’s alma mater, may hint at something different.

━ a hustler with an alpha bitch mentality, she’s always outsmarting people and outsmarting the system to get things to work in her favour. and when that didn’t work, no one could ever say no to a big fat wad of cash. because cleo ortiz never loses. she doesn’t just play the game, she owns it, makes the rules and wins. every. damn. time. does she think she’s better than everyone? without a doubt. does she care about anyone other than herself? not a chance. if it ever appeared that she did, then chances are, it’s only to benefit herself somehow.

━ cleo swears by the belief that playing by the rules was for suckers and if you weren’t the best, then you were nothing at all. and sometimes being the best required playing dirty. if she has to ruin someone else’s life to get her way, then she will gladly pour a jug of gasoline, light a match and enjoy watching it go up in flames. hell, more often than not, she’ll do that just purely for her own enjoyment. because if she has to be bitter and miserable, then why shouldn’t everyone else be too?

━ with that mentality, it’s no surprise that cleo came up with a scheme to sabotage her father’s newest business deal with the owner of big bear resort. the ortiz family had been vacationing there since she was little, so it was only right that they expanded their business roots there as well. unfortunately, cleo screwed herself over with her own ambition and the scheme more or less blew up in her face.

━ in an attempt to salvage the partnership, cleo was given an ultimatum - work at the resort, or face the legal repercussions and risk losing her trust fund. she didn’t have to think twice about which option to go with. working at the resort would just give her twice as many opportunities to sabotage the deal, yet again. and this time, she didn’t plan on leaving until she succeeded. the only minor obstacle was having to actually work while she was here, but how hard could bartending be, right??

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

BEST FRIEND ━ someone who can put up with cleo’s awfulness, or maybe they’re just as awful as she is. this is probably one of the few people she’s actually relatively soft for ( not that she’d ever admit it ), will always have their back & will probably? let her guard down for. gimme some soft bestie feels for this cold bitch. taken by kieran rhodes, caleb xu PARTNER-IN-CRIME ━ i’m sure even satan has a little devil on his shoulder, so cleo needs one too. basically they like to stir up all kinds of trouble together, both fueling each other’s vices. taken by ian moon, harper delgado MORAL CONSCIENCE ━ does cleo even have a moral compass? your guess is as good as mine. this is someone she is more likely to listen to and could try to sway her from doing, y’know, ~*just cleo things*~. kind of like the angel on her shoulder. often tries to get her to just be a decent human being. the cindy lou to her grinch if you will LOL?? taken by aylie greer BAD INFLUENCE ━ someone cleo is a bad influence on. she’s the little devil on their shoulder and manipulates convinces them to do ~*just cleo things*~ with her. after all, she needs to entertain herself somehow while she’s stuck here esgjdgkgk. taken by claire beauvard ON/OFF ━ they’ve been in this on-and-off relationship for what’s felt like forever and they have their moments, but didn’t always get along. despite that, they just keep coming back to each other for their own reasons. taken by marco di angelo ENEMIES ━ homegirl can piss off a lot of people just for shits and giggles, nor does she care to be likeable and personable, so i’m sure she’s got a hella long list of enemies/people she rubs the wrong way. also people she’s sabotaged, fucked over and manipulated to get her way? plz. taken by kamille osman, theodora kwon CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ━ they’ve known each other since they were kids, probably met when cleo’s family visited big bear. they can still be friendly, not get along at all, or maybe it’s an ex-friend situation. UNWANTED CHILD ━ cleo somehow ended up being this person’s very reluctant mom friend. she hates it, she does not want to deal with them, and yet she’ll still go pick up their drunk ass at 4am. she’s all about tough love, so while she may be super harsh and hard on them, she does it because she cares ( not that she’d ever actually admit to caring ). taken by leo takanashi UNLIKELY/ACCIDENTAL FRIENDS ━ they shouldn’t get along, but somehow they just do and their friendship works. not typically someone cleo would see herself being friends with, but one way or another, an accidental friendship of sorts developed. taken by callie macdermot, nadia perez, ivan anderson MUTUAL ANNOYANCE ━ they annoy each other to no end and just live for pushing each other’s buttons. not quite a hatred, but some days, it’s pretty darn close. maybe there’s some sexual tension involved cuz that’s always the good shiet. taken by axel schaefer HOOK-UPS/FWBS ━ self-explanatory. a girl’s got needs. whether she actually likes you as a person or not, if you’re hot, then you’ll do the job. rip why is she like this. we can make it angsty or not because tbh cleo can be pretty possessive sometimes, so y’knOW. taken by roman walsh

okay, that’s all i can think of off the top of my head. some plots i’m open for multiple characters to fill, unless it has been crossed out. and ofc, i’m always open to new ideas too!

#bigbearintro #intro. ( cleo ortiz. )

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 4 years

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for anyone who may be starting uni/college next year:

please don’t submit your old work from high school and brag to people about it like: “i get distinctions/75s-83s on all of my work bc my writings sooo mature for my age!!! you should do it too bc it’s just so much easier than bothering to write something new!!! and plus, I was getting good grades in senior school so it doesn’t matter!!! also, it’s technically not cheating or plagiarism (so lame right 🙄) bc my school (and probs yours too) doesn’t/didn’t use turnitin, so it’s defs not on the database 😉! trust me! just do it! like it can’t be that much of a difference! just don’t tell the professors 😅🤫.” all as if you’re presenting it as a life hack for slightly older uni students.... when it’s not.

like don’t get me wrong, i know first year uni is fucking hard on all fronts: from getting used to having 4 heavier subjects, getting used to a full timetable and multiple deadlines; trying to make friends; dealing with professors that might seem aloof to you, but really aren’t in most subject areas; your time management goes off the wazoo bc uni isn’t what you expected to be.... etc etc etc. i get it. it’s hard.

but if you’re telling the above to a slightly older student whose in their 20s (like i was getting told by some first years in that intro to creative writing class in 2017... when i was in third year by that time and turning 22 that year).... they can’t do that..... because their writing has changed and matured (as well as generally speaking, they have as well, depending on the person) from their high school self. like I was a pretty different person from 2013 me back in 2017. like those 4 years away from high school did make me different from 17/18yo me.

a person in their early 20s (meaning from 21-23) very obviously can’t turn in something that they wrote at even 18. considering that they realise that their writing in high school was actually awful and overly flowery even in creative writing..... and it just generally it makes them cringe lmao. but the professor would be able to tell that a teenager had written whatever they turned in from highschool, against something a 22 year old (although not much older) would write.

like y’all. all the creative pieces i wrote in high school were about zombies or being a popular hot girl.... or even worse.... failing the hsc and being a dole bludger later in life bc of it (???? like what the fuck even???? 😂😅).... and they all had very obvious teenaged voices. language wise, I’d just shove a ridiculous bunch of big adjective words together bc i thought they made me sound clever..... when in reality, i had probably just used those words in the wrong context without actually knowing their proper meaning or place in a sentence or w/e.

on a technical level, (i suppose?), my metaphors were dumb asf. like in the zombie story i wrote in year 10/2011.... I likened depression to being like a zombie or w/e the fuck.... and teenage me thought it was deep, thoughtful and smart.... but when I read it now, I realise that it’s just.... cringey asf and not a good metaphor at all... and if i, or a professor, can easily pick that shit up, so can other students in their 20s, who may be in this class with us as well. hell. maybe you even will. being a teenager and all lmao. like y’all. even the shit that i turned in for my essays or stories in years 11/12 wouldn’t pass the people in their 20s and the professor as something my 21/22yo self would’ve written in 2017. and honestly. i thank fucking god for that.

but anyway yeah. this has been a reminder from a postgrad student to first year undergrad students that you shouldn’t turn in your stuff from years 11/12/your senior years of high school just because you think you’re “smart” bc you got to uni/college. like if you’re still trying to pull this type bs in second year or above (like I did try to do actually.... in order to clumsily make a point about the first years doing this (and to also piss that professor off a bit tbh lol); in that creative writing class in 2017. hint: it failed miserably on all counts lol), bc your profs will probably end up cottoning on and calling you into a meeting about academic misconduct or some shit. like that’s scary, right? lol.

you’re supposed to write new stuff at uni to build and hone your skills; not just keep turning old shit in and hoping it will still pass at a 65, at the very least, all bc you think that: “i write so well bc im so mature for my age! be jealous!” or w/e dumb shit i was told by first years doing this. you are kind of sort of cheating, even if turnitin doesn’t pick it up. write new shit to grow as a writer/creative person, instead of just relying on your writing from high school to get an easy ride.

like sarah, im sorry. but i’ve read some of your stuff in this class. and, quite frankly, it’s not that fucking great. and the same goes for you, kieran. you pretentious prick. both of you sit the fuck down and learn that just because you did fucking extension 1&2 english, english advanced and extension drama or w/e the fuck in your end of high school exams- it does NOT mean that you’re the next teen writing prodigy, or the next hemingway or charlotte bronte. and it also doesn’t mean that you can continue submitting your high school essays and creative pieces and think that you’ll continue to get good marks.... bc you’ll probably end up getting caught out if you continue doing it.

finally, also recommending that people slightly older than you (in their early 20s) can do the same even if they just “change some words around” or “do something better with the voice” isn’t feasible advice either. bc for them, there’s probably no way around it, in most cases... because you can tell very, very easily that a clueless 16-18 year old wrote that essay/story/monologue or whatever else in comparison to a early 20something whose been through 2.5 years of uni.... and everyone in the class can pick that up..... no matter how well the person tries to re-write that particular piece as their current early 20s self.

because, after all: we’re all novice, practicing writers here. we’re not as clever as we all like to think we are. and that’s what we’re here for: to hone and strengthen our skills. not to weaken our skills and use the same stuff we’ve written over & over again, to see if we can get away with it.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #uni #uni life

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