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dailyoyo · 14 days

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Non Exhaustive list of claims me and pseud havemade about yoyo. do we even believe all of these things in our headcanons? Good quaestion

yoyo once ran a "cringe art" blog very briefly but all he put on it was his own childhood art, without specifying it was his?

yoyo has a bucket list which includes things like "convince a straight person they're actually closeted gay" and "commit perjury"

yoyo likes to follow tutorials its enriching for him

yoyo has his own pirate radio station that roboy helps him run under the moniker of "Undergraduate C". he plays nothing but meme shit and stuff that is straight up unlistenable

yoyo thinks he is a hollow shell of a person with masks upon masks where an identity should be

yoyo, if asked if he thinks people can be born evil, will answer "lol yeah, because i was!" it's hard to say if he's being ironic or not

yoyo would die if he went to the house on ash tree lane because he would do goofy tricks in the hallway and grind down the spiral staircase only to fall off and careen into the abyss

paradox!yoyo is shorter than yoyo's official canon height because it's disturbing for yoyo to only be an inch smaller than me

yoyo just gets real scared when he smokes weed. but this doesnt stop him?

yoyo is a prolific trollfic author with unreadable writings under dozens of pseudonyms for dozens of fandoms

yoyo had a brief stint as a member of poison jam under a different name and identity but he got booted out for consistently ruining movie night with his intentionally frustrating mockbuster choices

yoyo has attempted to join every single gang in tokyo-to and the ggs were his last pick

yoyo eventually picks up it/its pronouns in a mental illness kind of way

yoyo is worse at video games than pots is

yoyo would be really good at among us except everyone just automatically votes him imposter by default so he cant even play properly

yoyo regrets nothing

paradox!yoyo, if confronted with an alternate universe version of himself, would immediately tell them to kill themself

yoyo would honestly probably be a lot less fucked in the head once he's PAST THE DIRE AGE OF SIXTEEN YEARS OLD

yoyo has like one of those bootleg-ass 52-in-one fake game consoles. bastion of his childhood

yoyo often gets mistaken for being younger than he is and this is something he actively weaponizes

yoyo makes up a new backstory every time you ask where he's from

yoyo accepted at the tender age of 12 that he does not have a future and so he should just fuck around as much as possible since hes like doomed anyway

yoyo's hoodie is actually embroidered, which he did himself by hand

yoyo has a lot of really strong feelings about art in all its myriad of forms but good luck getting him to talk about it genuinely instead of saying some dumb bullshit

yoyo made a lot of jokes about himself being super suspicious and Totally Not A Rival Gang Spy Who's Gonna Betray The GGs when he joined because he thought it was funny. the only reason he was allowed to be in the gang at all despite this is because he made such a poor showing trying to prove himself to corn gum and roboy that they were internally like "if we turn him away i think he's going to straight up die out there."

#mod noname #long post #Fuck it i don't care im maintagging thsi. who give a shit #jet set radio #we've said so many fucking things about this character. and maybe some of them are even true #honestly actually a LOT of these are true or at least are Strongly Plausible But We Didn't Decide For Sure in our hcs #i should probably put this in the vreepypasta tag for some of these #vreepypasta #suicide bait ment #i want so badly to convey to you people what happens in my head when i look at this character. whadda hell #noname's paradox-posting

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arklay · 2 years

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tagged by @denerims @florbelles @risingsh0t @leviiackrman @shellibisshe & @fenharel to do this quiz for some of my ocs – thank you all so much ily! ♡

tagging: @aartyom @aelyosos @brujah @calenhads @celticwoman @cultistbase @faarkas @girlbosselrond @narshadda @nocticulas @noonfaerie @nuclearstorms @reaperkiller @risingsh0t @shadowglens @steelport @stormveils @swordcoasts @voerman @windupcharibert @wrymbloods & anyone else who would like to do this! no pressure as always, and if you'd prefer i didn't tag you in these things, just let me know ♡

WHAT'S AT YOUR OC'S CORE?

— rippling sunset.

you're the nicest person i'll ever meet, probably. with an undying passion to protect those who can't protect themselves, you're energetic and bubbly to a fault. it's cute, watching you run around trying to tie up loose ends. i feel bad for you — out of everyone you know, you probably have some of the deepest trauma, more than anyone's aware of. this isn't something that you want attention for at all, and you'd really just rather forget it exists at all… even then, it seems like you can never escape it. i wish you a pleasant rest of your life, full of rippling sunsets and free of prying eyes.

— fractured glass.

no amount of orchestrated class is ever going to hide the fact that you're doomed to be alone. you're a puppet, you're a weapon, but most importantly? you're a fraud. your facade isn't malicious, but that doesn't change a thing. everything in your life is in your control now, and you chose to let yourself become stiff and distant. you're guilty of everything you blame yourself for, and your misfortune is the fault of nobody but yourself. your selfish nature forges you into a man-made monster, so quick to blame and so desperate to escape consequence. i hope that you can become someone you’re proud of soon.

— acerbic wit.

you're a mentor — an old scarred wolf, an injured soldier, a disgraced paladin. your teachings read as shamelessly pretentious, speaking in rhymes and biting down hard into anyone stupid enough to make the wrong move. this isn't your first life, nor your second, nor your sixth — you'll make the most of your time shackled to this world, no matter how many loops it takes to get it right. with every defeat, you reincarnate; a little smarter, a little quicker, crueler and nastier. will you choose to be brutal, equalizing, that final strike in the face of your enemies? will you go soft, become tender and domesticated? the choice is yours. it's not like i can stop you.

— silent admission.

in tarot, the fool is numbered 0 – the number of unlimited potential. as the protagonist, he is ever present and therefore needs no number as well as no introduction. the world revolves around you in ways that i can't begin to describe, though you'd shrug it off if i were to begin to explain. i need you to know that time is running out. if you want to get this done, you need to start now. sloth is your greatest enemy in this world, and you can only run so far from the opposition when you start with such a disadvantage. keep your head high, yeah? the kid you were is still in there somewhere. you need to show him that it was worth it.

#tag games.#oc: dani #oc: diana #oc: ithrenil #oc: reina #so. this quiz was fucked up actually <3 tore my heart out and just stomped on it whadda hell... like i'm sobbing and screaming and wailing #i'm not even joking when i say i teared up over some of these like pLEASE i can't do this!!! like. oh my god. there's so much i could say #about all of these but like omg oughgh like dani's actually made me cry rip i love her so much i love them all so much but something about #that ruined me like she deserves so much aaaaaaaa she's like the most genuine just good out of these guys i'd say. like we know diana is #evil lmao but she's got a lot going on that makes me cry also. ithrenil is like trying so hard to be good but doesn't know how to which #really hurts me. cause after so long of being just. idk. like all survival and self preservation but so much Killing. so much hunting...#ough. the hunter becomes the hunter is their story huh... but reina too like. omg she's just. very much not a good person but still not #evil but also she lichrally kills people and runs a gang to an empire that is very not good lmao idk i have many thoughts i'm oughgugggh

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cinnabeat · 5 months

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i miss my mom wtf

#its barely been a week since shes been gone whadda hell #does she know how many things i have to tell her #whenever she calls shes usually walking somewhere and/or the connection is SHIT #im so sad #im not gonna cry i swear #michi tag

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artastic-friend · 4 months

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So... what the frickadicks is a vinegaroon??? And aww the wolf spider babies climbing on the mother's back reminds me of some pictures I've seen of alligators and opossums that's neat!! And whadda hell did they stick that bit of acorn to the ceiling???? Huh?????

A vinegaroon! Is like, a relative of spiders and scorpions and such. They are arachnids that have no venom that belong to the order "Uropygi". They probably more closely resemble a scorpion than something like a spider but they have no stinger on their tail, in fact, their abdomen is big and oval-shaped with segments. At the posterior end of their abdomen they have a little segment I believe called the "post-abdomen"? which connects to a very thin and long "tail" like appendage that is also called the "flagellum" or the "whip" (though it is not used as either of those things lmao). It is used for detecting chemicals in the air and sensing the vibrations in the air as well if I remember correctly. That is one way they sense their surroundings while looking for food or avoiding predators!

BUT THE BIG FEATURE ABOUT THEM is that they have glands in their abdomen that produce a strong acetic acid, the same acid found in vinegar, and when they are threatened by what they deem a predator, they lift their abdomen up and spray the acid from their post-abdomen with great precision at the predator! The acid is super strong and can be painful if it hits a sensitive area or can just smell really sour like, again, a very strong vinegar which is often not deemed a pleasant smell.

some other cool features they have, they have these big beefy claw-like pedipalps that they can use for defense or grabbing things! they often dig with them and can capture prey with them so they can eat!

Another fun fact about them, similar to some other arachnids they have a specialized pair of legs, their first legs, that are much thinner and longer to be able to feel the ground around them so they can detect where they are going. Vinegaroons, like many other arachnids have poor vision and so this helps them navigate their terrain!

Since I am unsure of if you are comfortable seeing a picture of a vinegaroon, I will reblog this post with pictures (and with tags/a warning) so you may choose to see them if you wish!

---

to answer your other question XD No, I stuck the acorn up there so Toe could have a little hide up on the ceiling of their enclosure! :D

#arachnids #vinegaroons #i need to research these guys more #every time I learn something about them I just wanna know more #ask response #random rambles #vinegaroon

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rhymingwithpurple · 11 months

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So I’ve followed you for a few years. And like last week I was at Petco and befriended one of the workers in the fish section with my silly guy swag and it was quickly established we’re both tumblr users because sometimes when you see one out in the wild it’s like. You Know. ANYWAY. The other day he asked me if I followed a blog called ispyspookymansion and I was like hm no I don’t think so but it sounds familiar. And he was like oh I asked because we both like mcr and wondered if we had that connection. And I was like brother I’ll try to remember to look them up

Smash cut to today. I look at the in the tags post you reblogged giving a character to the person you rb’d from and you tagged it Adam from saw. And I was like wow :) I love saw :) I wonder who they tagged to b Adam saw and if it’s another saw blog I could follow :)

ITS FUCKING. SPOOKYMANSION. AND I TEXTED HIM AND HE SAID YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS??????????? SO THAYS WHY I RECOGNIZED THE FUCKING NAME BC YOU REBLOG STIFF FROM THEM. IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND. I also clicked on spookymansion’s rb and they reblogged it from another blog I’m like terminally obsessed with so I feel like I’m losing my mind. There’s so many fucking tumblr users. Whadda hell.

Anyway there’s a huge chance my friend now actually will see this so if he does hi Frankie you know my url now. you couldn’t water board it out of me but I guess you can coincidence it out 👍

@ispyspookymansion kora you're famous i think

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chinchillasinunison · 6 months

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why are there so many pornbots spamming the Ishimondo tag whadda hell

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galedekkarios · 2 months

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mx galedekkarios dot tumblr dot com may i please have some gale and/or bloodweave hcs from your big beautiful mind 👉👈 (or honestly just any longform post of bg thoughts at all bc ur tags keep inflicting me w gory stickmen disease and wanting to read more ;;)

oh anon whadda hell.. u flatter me. 🫶 i unplugged my brain real quick and gave it a shake and this is all what fell out (some are mature):

in a modern au, gale's second favorite cuisine (after greek ofc) is east asian! he loves to both eat it and cook it from scratch. chinese, korean, japanese, etc. he's even good at other asian cuisines like thai and vietnamese. he's gotten very familiar with a lot of recipes and actively tries to learn more. when he doesn't feel like cooking that night, he opts for takeout. he's been a loyal customer of a handful of restaurants for so long that they already know his tastes too.

the only reason why gale's students don't try to flirt with him is because he's too much of a "my wife" guy. he's always wearing his ring, always talking about his partner, and has portraits of them in his office and everything. there's just no way you don't know that he's happily taken. you could be talking about the most random thing ever and he'd be like "omg! this reminds me of how my partner blahblahblah—" and everyone else is just like 😐 because he's already told this story five times before. not even tara is safe from this (and she was probably present for whatever story it is this time, too!). [this is assuming his students are older / uni prof]

i think gale would be the type of person to have a very Intense gaze without meaning to. the kind where you can feel it whenever he's looking at you. or when he's gazing at you lovingly, or even just looking you in the eye as you speak, it's almost too much. it's just so earnest, so sincere, so... intent on witnessing you and really paying attention, that it's like. whoa man. whoaaaaaaa now let's fucking chill before i blink and realize i've fallen in love with you alright 😳 (and, of course, this Greatly unsettles astarion in the beginning bc he's someone that can't afford to be seen.)

i know in my heart that mr "mine was a popular hand at the annual blackstaff's ball" + bagged a goddess + with the way i talk you can't be surprised i'm a generous munch + wyll, is it true that ppl think wizards don't fuck? :( bc i assure you we absolutely do!!!!! + mystra had pleasure domes dekarios was a hot girl once and his pussy still does pop severely. he's just in his depression era rn 💔

wyll calls gale elegant, minthara calls him dashing, shadowheart says he smells like a wealthy dowager, lae'zel assumes correctly that he had many tutors in his youth, and gale frequenting the temple of beauty in waterdeep all make me feel like gale x astarion are very the lady and the tramp coded. after they get married, they're old money x new money.

gale is always eager to teach astarion new spells, but astarion only gets excited about the ones that either help him be a better scoundrel and/or that spice up their sex life. which like. is still a win for them both either way

um. throat goat. that's it that's the headcanon sorry except it's also not really a hc bc he alludes to this but it's important to me tht we repeat it. but also maybe it shocks astarion the first time he's on the receiving end of it like boy WHAT!!!! you didn't tell me you was a freak like that!!! literally that damn shawty ok meme. gale gives him such wet sloppy glizzy gluck that it makes astarion feel like he has to wipe his ass afterward smh

neither of them want to get anywhere near bugs, but in any au gale would be the type to take it outside and astarion would just kill it using one of gale's 39304308309 books laying around

gale struggles to catch sarcasm and astarion loves to rile him up and take the piss out of him for it. lovingly ofc. whenever gale does understand astarion's sarcastic comments, he feels very proud of himself.

astarion sometimes drops things on purpose just to watch gale bend over. sorry (i'm the one that's sorry, not him btw)

#💜💜#long post

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lostjulys · 2 years

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WAIT THATS SO!!!!!! IM SOSOSO GLAD MY TAGS COULD MAKE U HAPPY EVERY TIME I SEE IT IM LIKE. CONTRACTUALLY OBLIGATED TO SHARE THE INSANITY <<< IS NORMAL ABOUT HOMESTUCK BUT !!!!!!!! AUGGHGHHGHG ITS SO!!!!!!!!!! <333333

AUGH!!!!!! whadda hell thabk u!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i am very tired not many words rn but !!!!! catkiss.gif it makesme so very happy 2 kno that my stuff makes other ppl happy!! :]]

#also wahg.... i have been in a HUGE. artblock slump disease etc & have not posted finished art for like... MONTHS. so it is so comforting &#cool 2 know that i am not just like... tossing stuff into the void sometimes ggdfgdfgkf. maybe i will continue the tarot series soon.. hmm.#ive done rose jade & dave so i only need jegbert 2 finish out the beta kids... hmm.. WAIT FUCK. NO. art midterm projects first. sigh.#well. that was a diversion in the tags sorry NNFSDKFKSDFD. BUT. rlly i appreciate u sm!!! hope u have a good night <333 #asks :)#fave

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d0d0-b0i · 3 years

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some headcanons i have :D

#amphibia #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #polly plantar #sprig plantar #hop pop plantar #captain grime #ivy sundew #sprigivy #sashannarcy #my art #gosh so many tags whadda hell

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banshee1013 · 4 years

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Suptober Day 1 - On The Road Again

So, here we go again! Attempting more art/fic for Suptober. This time, I’m going to string each day’s art/fic into one cohesive story (and a post-season 15 timestamp for “Ten Inch Hero” even!) Wish me luck! Here’s Day One - On The Road Again. Enjoy! ==================================== Title: The Road Less Traveled (subject to change) Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, heed the tags for each entry) Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!) ========================================

CHAPTER ONE - On The Road Again Words: 988

Castiel startles, disrupted from his reading as a loud clatter coming from the Bunker’s kitchen shatters the looming silence.

Things have been very quiet since Chuck was defeated, with Jack watching over Heaven, Rowena watching over Hell, Benny ruling Purgatory, and Billie keeping the Shadow company in The Empty. Oh, there were still hunts, but they were few and far between. Without Chuck to twist creatures to his storytelling needs, they have been more or less content to live their lives like regular citizens. Castiel had been occupying his non-hunt downtime reading everything the Men of Letter’s vast Library contained; and exploring his new humanity - his Grace being sacrificed in the battle against Chuck.

Dean had gone to great measures to make this new human existence of his as pleasurable as possible - introducing him to new flavors in both food and drink, new activities... and many new and different carnal pleasures.

He closes his book - the Library’s very special edition of Alice In Wonderland, of particular interest to him due to its role in returning Dean to full size after their encounter with a witch earlier this year - setting it upon the table before him and rises, heading to the kitchen to investigate the disturbance.

Turning into the kitchen doorway, he is greeted by the enjoyable site of Dean bent over in front of the refrigerator, jeans stretched tight over his superior posterior. He smirked at his own thought - “superior posterior”. Rhymes always pleased him greatly, especially when they were his own.

Tearing his eyes reluctantly away, he notices the possible source of the earlier clattering noise - the green cooler, most commonly occupying the back seat of the Impala, was now situated on the kitchen island, lid open. As he ponders the significance of the appearance of the cooler outside of its normal environment, Dean rises from his rummaging, packages of cold cuts and cheese in his hands, and turns toward the cooler on the island. His eyes raise and catch Castiel’s.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean’s remarkable green eyes sparkle in the warm light of the kitchen, and the corners of his mouth pull up into a bright smile.

Lips...very distracting, Castiel notes to himself. Very distracting indeed.

“Uh... Earth to Cas? You in there, Major Tom?” Dean waves at him, breaking Castiel’s stare and diverting his gaze from Dean’s distractingly full lips, back up to his equally distracting eyes.

He takes a moment to contemplate the pros and cons of his new-found humanity and the increased sensory input now available to him, and decides that, while inconvenient and often overwhelming, they had allowed him the ability to move from merely admiring Dean’s soul, to the capacity to admire every other other part of him as well - and to experience the joy of falling madly in love with him.

He feels his own lips pull into a smile matching Dean’s own. “I am still on Earth, and also understand that reference.” His smile widens at his own joke. Jokes were also very enjoyable, even his subpar ones; especially when they caused Dean to laugh as he had just started doing.

“Dammit, I love you so much, Cas,” Dean says, recovering from his outburst. “Never, ever change.”

“I will do my very best to not change, unless the change improves my ability to make you laugh,” Ignoring Dean’s snort, he addresses the subject at hand.

“I heard a noise and came to investigate.” He gestures toward the open cooler. “I assume the presence of the cooler and the sandwich ingredients in your hands means you are planning a trip.”

“Got it in one, hot stuff,” Dean says, tossing the lunchmeat and cheese into the cooler and closing the lid.

Castiel tilts his head in confusion, and not from Dean’s insinuation that his body temperature is elevated (he gets that reference as well). “Is there a hunt I was not aware of? I thought Sam and Eileen were occupied with one, is there a need for another?”

Dean snorted again. “The only thing Sam and Eileen are “hunting” - fingers hooking the air for emphasis, much to Castiel’s amusement - “is a good place to play ‘hide the sausage’ somewhere not where his brother and ex-angel boyfriend are playing the same game.”

Castiel nods in commiseration - the Bunker may be isolated, but it is not soundproof. However - “What if a hunt comes up?”

Dean waves a hand dismissively. “Plenty of hunters in the sea, Cas.” He strides over to Castiel, placing hands still cool from the refrigerated items he was recently handling around Castiel’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “We defeated Chuck, Cas. Let someone else handle the bit players.”

With Dean this close, Castiel can barely string together a coherent thought, let alone an objection.

“I’ve packed beer, pie, condiments, sandwich makings, chips, and a loaf of the bread I made yesterday in there,” he says, pulling back slightly to tilt his head toward the cooler. “and clothes and stuff already in the trunk. Whadda ya say we hit the road, sweetheart?”

Castiel stares into those emerald irises and can deny him nothing.

“Where will we go?”

Dean shrugged, his thumbs caressing Castiel’s cheeks. “Thought we might head west, see what we can see. Get some coffee in Seattle, wine in Napa Valley, hit the beaches in Monterey, fish tacos in San Diego... I dunno.” He presses a swift, sweet kiss to Castiel’s lips, pulling back and leaving him wanting more.

“Let’s just see where the road takes us. You in?”

Castiel nods dumbly. Of course he’s in.

Dean smiles again, and with a brush of fingertips across his cheek, turns away from Castiel and ambles to the kitchen island, hoisting the cooler from the counter and heads out the door to the garage.

Castiel follows. He’s followed Dean to Hell and would do so again in a heartbeat if he asked him to.

A road trip is definitely preferable.

#suptober20 #DayOne #art #fic

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monty-glasses-roxy · 21 days

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Okay new rule: You can send me posts to reblog now. Roxy posts, DJ Music Man posts, Chica posts, Cassie posts, Vanessa posts... Posts that generally don't have a lot of notes are the best. You can send me those now. I'll try add them to the queue to keep it going!

Just two rule to this: no humanised animatronics (it's a squick for me, absolutely no hate to anyone that does humanised stuff) and obviously nothing like... Sexually explicit. Other than that, I wanna keep the queue going!! And my phone can't handle scrolling more than a few weeks back in the tags!!! Give me your friend's stuff!!! Your own stuff!!! That post that got maybe three notes!!! Gimme!!! I wanna see and I wanna share them!!! Hand 'em over!!!

#reblogging is the life blood of this site and god damn it I'm gonna reblog!!#I can't always focus enough to do it but when i CAN do it you better believe I'm going to!!!#anyway this is an option for people now but also. a cry for help.#there's so many fucking tags and ny phone... my phone can't handle it... blease...#OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT THE RAIDS DISCORD I SHOULD BRING THAT BACK FUCK #THAT WOULD BE PERFECT FOR THIS #WHADDA HELL AM I DOING

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milstrim · 3 years

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A Gripping Night

Day 22: Poison

"They're really staying with you?" Penny asked, and she could practically feel Mr. Stark's feigned annoyance from over the phone. She could hear him walking around in some kind of busy room filled with lots of people, and it surprised her even more that he'd called.

"Yeah, kid. That was kind of the whole point of going through these trials and being out of the country all the time."

It had been a year since Mr. Stark had whisked her away to Germany to fight the Captain America, who had been pardoned by the UN barely two days ago. Now being a lot closer to Mr. Stark since Homecoming--filled with lab days, training, small missions, and plenty of movies--she'd known that her mentor had been working on bringing the Rogue Avengers back to New York. Of course the whole world had known. The trial had been very public, but it was different watching it on TV to seeing her mentor after every trial.

He'd always been a special kind of stressed anytime she'd seen him once he'd been back from a trial or some kind of government argument that she didn't understand. He'd worked himself to the bone the last four months, so much so that he'd missed a lot of their lab days. But now the Avengers were back together, and she hoped that things would go back to normal.

But the chances were slim, since the Avengers would be his main priority now. A part of her felt protective--these people had hurt her mentor after all! They'd left him and refused to listen and had beaten the crap out of him. She'd seen what had happened in Siberia on a video that she 100% hadn't been supposed to see. And now these people were coming back like it was no big deal. And Mr. Stark was welcoming them like they hadn't hurt him!

Another part of her felt jealous, and a little worried. For herself, which in turn made her feel guilt for being selfish, but...what if Mr. Stark didn't want to talk to her anymore? He'd started paying attention to Spider-Woman because the Avengers were breaking up, he'd needed help, and then he'd only paid attention to her after Homecoming. What if he didn't need her anymore? What if he didn't want her around?

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't stayed up all night before worrying about it. Hence why she was especially tired now, and it took her a moment to realize Mr. Stark was still talking.

"--whadda ya say, kid?" he finished, and she blinked.

"Huh?"

He snorted, "How late are you staying up? You better not be patrolling past your curfew, young lady."

She scrunched up her nose at the playful 'young lady,' and she was sure he could see her face through the force of her sheer willpower, "I'm not! I go to bed at 1:30, Mr. Stark."

He clucked his tongue, "Well, you certainly haven't been sleeping enough to pay attention. Did you hear anything I said?"

"I stopped paying attention after...something about being out of the country."

"This is betrayal, Underoos. And I knew you had a thick skull, but this is low, even for you."

"Okay, well, I have homework, so is there a point to this conversation that I have one hundred percent been paying attention to?"

She could feel his eyes roll, "Uhuh. But as I was saying, you've been cordially invited to one bonified Stark Gala next Friday evening."

"A gala?"

"Ah, she can hear! Yes, a gala Spider-Kid. It's a little welcome back soiree for Cap and his gang of merry pals, 'figured it'd be better to meet on neutral ground with a few rich people as buffers. It's good to raise charities too. But also because everyone going is boring as hell, I thought you'd like to tag along so I'd have someone okay to talk to."

She hesitated, "Uh, I don't know, Mr. Stark. I mean, I have a project coming up, and I don't even having anything to wear and will they know that I'm Spider-Woman and--"

"I'll help you with your project, I'll give you a dress or a suit when you come to my apartment, and they don't know you're Spider-Woman. You can just be my intern."

"...Is the gala at your apartment?"

He snorted, "No, it's at an actual place where parties are held that I bought out for the night. It's very nice, even has an outdoor patio."

"And you're sure they won't know?" she asked, unable to stop the fear from bleeding into her voice, and Mr. Stark's own voice took on a heavier tone, matching hers.

"I can't assure you that, kid. They're idiots, but they know what they're doing, but I can tell you they wouldn't out you, and that even if they did, I'd take care of it. Okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Stark. I trust you."

He was silent for a fleeting moment, "Great. See you soon, kid."

---

Saturday came a little too quickly for Penny's liking, which was a weird sentence. She loved Saturdays! It was when she got to spend the entire day patrolling and swinging around town, and she did do that, though she had to stop around four and swing to Mr. Stark's Manhattan apartment instead of patrolling into the night. Spider-Woman got there quickly, a little nervous as she stuck to the side of the building, knocking gently on the window. From inside, Mr. Stark looked up at her knock, smiling when he caught sight of her, and she waved.

The window slid open for her, allowing for her to slip inside. She took off her mask once the window had closed behind her, and Mr. Stark immediately ran a hand through her sweaty hair. She'd tied it up for her suit, but the braids and knots had come loose, allowing for his hand to untangle the rest of her her hair and fall down into her short bob.

Mr. Stark scrunched up his nose, "You're sweaty."

"And you're annoying," she snarked back.

"Yeah, yeah. Go take a shower, Underoos. You can't show up to the gala smelling like the last dumpster you fell in."

She stuck a tongue out at him, but he just pointed her in the direction of the guest room she stayed in if she ever slept over. She took a quick shower, always glad to take in the smell of the soaps left in the bathroom for her (they smelled like vanilla and heaven). When she stepped out there were two outfits waiting for her. One was a bright red dress, slightly off the shoulder with a short slit down the side, falling down to her ankles. The other was a slightly darker red suit with thin black stripes and flare legs, a dark blue bowtie that was a little too obvious but still made her smile.

She chose the suit.

After she'd pulled it on, she treaded out of the room. And then she was herded into another by some makeup artist that had come by to do Ms. Potts' makeup earlier. Her hair too. Another what felt like two years passed before Mr. Stark said they were already to go. Fancy suits. Makeup. Hair. Jewelry. And then they were finally out. Mr. Stark was exhausting with his parties. Worse than a freshman going to Homecoming.

Finally they were in the car, Happy driving them to the building that Mr. Stark had bought out for the fancy party. When they arrived at the building, she was a bit nervous to see some gathering press, and she gave Mr. Stark an uneasy look.

"You can go around the back if you'd like, Pen. But you're in the system as my personal intern, and I mean, I know that kid at school's still giving you trouble," Mr. Stark explained.

"No one's bothering me, Mr. Stark," she argued.

"Sure," he placated, "You coming in here or do you want Happy to take you around?"

"I'll just, go with you."

"Alright, kiddo."

The cameras had been bright, but Mr. Stark had made sure she got inside relatively quickly. He stayed out for another ten minutes or so taking pictures and answering press questions. He'd showed her to the elevator, told her to get off at the top floor, and said he'd catch up in a few minutes. Her heart had clenched as he'd left.

Blinking off a headache from the crowd, Penny took in the room in front of her when the elevator opened. It was elegant, with golden curtains and soft yellow lights blinking overhead. There was a band playing soft jazz in the background, and there were only a couple of people milling around so far. Unsure of what to do, she headed to the bar and ordered a Shirley Temple, waiting for whenever Mr. Stark would join her.

While she waited, she people watched.

Penny didn't recognize any of the people chatting idly around the room, until her eyes landed on a tall man with dark blond hair and a groomed but messy looking beard. It took her a moment to place him, what with the beard and all, but when he turned and made eye contact with her, she recognized him. Captain America.

Immediately she looked away, sipping on her drink and ignoring the man who had beat her mentor senseless barely a year ago, who was now only thirty feet away from her like it was nothing. Penny was relieved when Mr. Stark appeared a few minutes later, approaching her where she was on her third Shirley Temple.

"How many of those have you had?" he asked when he saw her.

"Three," she responded cheekily, taking another sip through her straw. Mr. Stark shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure the responsible thing would be to tell you not to have anymore, but I don't know how else to get you through the night."

"Coffee?"

"That is the biggest no of all no's, kid. Not after last time."

"I only broke the arm of your suit."

"Uhuh," Mr. Stark tutted, but his face was playful, "Only have two mores of those."

"Rude," she muttered, taking another sip. Mr. Stark opened his mouth to say something else when another voice interrupted, strong yet soft.

"Hi, Tony."

Mr. Stark turned and she looked up to see Steve Rogers. The man's eyes flitted to her a little uncertainly, but he didn't look at her for very long, instead focusing on her mentor. The billionaire tensed, but nothing else portrayed his discomfort as he plastered on the same smile that she'd seen him flash to the press.

"Rogers. Glad you could make it to your own 'Welcome Back Party,' though I am sorry that I couldn't make it a red, white and blue theme. Pepper was insistent for the gold instead, and I can't deny I favor it."

Mr. Rogers smiled a little bit, "I think you should've stuck with Natasha's colors."

"Just black is a bit of a downer. Anyway," he gestured to her, "This is my intern, Penny Parker. Who has had way too much sugar in the three minutes I left her alone."

Penny waved timidly, "Um, nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers."

Mr. Rogers smiled, holding out a hand that she took, being careful to keep her grip gentle. She must have not been gentle enough, because his eyes narrowed, "Nice to meet you too. And you can call me Steve."

Mr. Stark scoffed, "Good luck. It's been a year and she still calls me Mr. Stark."

"That's your name, Mr. Stark," she chirped, and both Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers laughed, and the night continued on.

Penny flip-flopped between following Mr. Stark around like a lost puppy and standing in the corner drinking something (sometimes a water, other times a sugary drink if she saw that Mr. Stark had gone to the bathroom). At the moment, she was following him around. She mostly stuck around when he wasn't talking to one of the Rogues, and he'd been talking to a scientist that was doing some revolutionary stuff with chemical growth out in California when Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson had decided to join them. Hurray.

Cue some awkward conversation and Penny wishing she could leave, but she could tell there was a panic looked about him, so she forced herself to stay around. She wasn't going to abandon her mentor. And maybe she'd get some more sugar if she was nice.

About forever into the conversation, a waiter passed by with a plate of red rimmed drinks. She raised her eyebrows at Mr. Stark, and with a roll of his eyes, he gestured for her to grab a drink while she grabbed her own. Red rimmed drinks were non-alcoholic, basically just sugar and soda (which was also just sugar), so she began chugging down her cup instantly.

The back of her neck prickled and she put the now almost empty glass down, lipping her lips at the strangely sweet taste. Which, it was supposed to be sweet, but it was different. Maybe she was just tired, she did feel woozy all of the sudden. And as though summoned by the thought, her vision began to swim, barely able to make out the faces of Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson looking at her in concern, their full drinks still in their hands.

"Kid?" Mr. Rogers asked.

Her throat dry and her head spinning, Penny grabbed onto Mr. Stark's hand, tugging gently. Her mentor turned to look at her, his eyes widening as he looked at her.

"Mr. Stark," she mumbled, her legs beginning to shake, "I don't--I don't feel so good."

That was the last thing she said before she tumbled to the ground. Mr. Stark caught her at the last second, mumbling out words that she struggled to understand. His mouth was moving too fast to even try to read his lips, and all she could her around her were panicked yells and someone screaming at the sight of her now completely limp, half on the ground, half in Mr. Stark's arms.

"--kay, honey. It's gonna be okay," she finally managed to make out, the sound all drumming back instantly like in those movies that was going through the sound inside a deaf person's head and then switching back to sound. Mr. Stark's voice was soothing, a hand carding through her hair as Mr. Wilson kneeled in front of her.

"It looks like she's been poisoned," Mr. Wilson concluded, "We need to take her to the hospital, really quickly. Whatever this is, it's fast."

"Got it," Mr. Stark confirmed, his voice wispy, "That waiter--"

"I've got them!" Ms. Romanoff called, and Penny assumed the woman had dashed away, though she couldn't tell for sure. Everything was so fuzzy, and darkness was clouding her vision. She was sure that that was a bad thing, but falling asleep didn't sound so bad.

Her eyes were slipping closed as she was scooped up off the ground, her head lolling before it was pushed back in place against Mr. Stark's chest. No. Not Mr. Stark. She blinked her hazy eyes open to look up and find Captain America. Where was Mr. Stark?

"I'm right here, kid. Right here," she heard Mr. Stark say, as though she'd summoned him. She tilted to her left to see the man rushing to keep up with her and Mr. Rogers. He smiled at her encouragingly, "Yeah. I know. We're getting you help. The suit's on the way. just stay with me, honey. Please."

And then the world faded away.

---

The world blinked awake.

It was bright. Well, not really. There were lights in the room that made her flinch with her sensitive eyes, but after she adjusted, she realized that the room was actually dim. It must still be pretty late.

Speaking of the room, it was the Medbay in the compound. She'd been here often enough to recognize it. At this point the covers on the bed she was in were Spider-Woman themed (somehow), and there was lots of equipment specially made for her. As well as very comfy chairs for Mr. Stark and May to sit in, both of who were seated there right now.

May was asleep, her glasses skewed and her hair frizzy, but Mr. Stark was awake, watching her intently as she sat up. He deflated as she did, a sigh escaping his lips before he leaned over, wrapping her in a hug.

"Hi, Mr. Stark," she mumbled into his shirt, "What happened."

"What do you remember?" he asked softly.

"Um, we were at the gala...? And I drank something that tasted funny, and--that's it."

"Well, that's about as long as you stayed awake for. What you missed was me flying you to compound so you could have emergency care by my team of doctors. Side affect; I think the others know by now that you were the coolest kid in Germany."

Her face fell, "Oh."

"It's alright, kid. I'm sorry this went so poorly," Mr. Stark apologized.

"It's okay. I trust you."

And she really did.

#Iron Man #spiderman #female peter parker #irondad #irondad fanfiction #whumptober2020 #avengers fanfiction

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imladris-soldier · 4 years

Text

Lashes (pt 19)

Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those… the first two, anyway.

Bill Williamson x OC

The mood around camp stayed tense over the next two days while Hosea and Dutch debated the bank job. The anticipation of that, on top of the lingering ice from the fight, kept things subdued and awkward. Star felt as though every one of her muscles were taut to their breaking point more often than not and soon took to arrow-making to occupy her time and take out her emotions on some unsuspecting wood. Charles provided her with endless feathers as he spent his time away from camp entirely, and he always brought back hunted birds to feed her new habit.

Bill kept quiet about the fact that he was protecting his lover, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was doing, sitting at her side with a gun near at hand. She felt better with him close, and every time Micah's eyes even slightly drifted in her direction, Bill would be reaching for his rifle. While she knew she would soon move past her altercation with the man and lose the lingering feeling of vulnerability, it was helpful to feel safe in the meantime.

Late one afternoon, Hosea began making rounds, announcing that the bank robbery was going ahead in the morning. As he approached Star and Bill, Arthur tagged along behind him. “Dutch says to get some rest,” the white-haired man told them. “We're movin' on Saint Denis in the mornin'. That said, Star... I was hopin' you might agree to stay behind at camp.”

“Why?” Bill demanded.

“'Cuz we need good fightin' folk to stay with those who ain't comin' along. Mrs. Adler will be stayin', and I was hopin' you might too. Whadda ya say?”

Star paused the monotonous movement of her knife against the stick in her hand to think. She could feel Bill's eyes on her, knowing well that he would prefer she go with him, but what did she know of robbing banks? She'd barely been involved in the Valentine job, and perhaps she had pushed her luck far enough by attending the mayor's party in town.

“I'll stay, Hosea. Seems like the best fit.”

He clapped his hands together, smiling. “Excellent. I'll leave you to it.”

As Hosea walked off, Arthur joined the pair around their small fire. “Appreciate ya bein' willing to stay,” he told her. “I know ya like to be in the thick of things.”

She offered him a smile before going back to her work. “I dunno. I'm a bit out of my depth here.”

“Nah. But I, for one, will feel better knowin' them that's stayin' has you and Sadie lookin' out for 'em. You are both mighty women.”

“Thanks, Arthur.”

As she scraped her knife against the wood, Star glanced at Bill out of the corner of her eye. He was slumped slightly in apparent disappointment, and he seemed to be mulling over some words to say, though he also seemed unwilling to speak them with Arthur present. After a moment, he cleared his throat and quietly asked, “Arthur, can I get a minute alone with my wife?”

Star's movements slowed immediately to a stop as Bill's question rattled around in her head. There was something intoxicating and dangerous about hearing him call her his own in such a way.

“Sure,” Arthur replied, lumbering to his feet and knocking the dust off his jeans. “I'll see you two in the mornin'. Get some sleep.”

He left them, and Star sighed, sitting aside her project to devote her attention to Bill. He was fiddling with one of the patches on his pants, tugging at the haphazard sewing. She waited patiently for him to start, and began weaving together a small crown of grass in the meantime.

“I... I know I ain't exactly made myself clear on... well... seein' as how sometimes I want you to stay home and sometimes I'm draggin' ya out there in the middle of shit. I just don't want ya to think... I know you're a good shot and all. I know you can take care of yourself. But, ya know, it's like you said. We watch each others backs, but we can only do that together. I-I-I'd just feel better... havin' you with me. That's all.”

Star nodded, taking some time to think on that. Her fingers worked at the grass in her hands, twisting it into a long rope that left behind a slight green stain. “You realize I would be a liability, don't you? I've never robbed a bank. Not properly.”

“Don't mean you ain't good at it,” he replied with a slight smile. “Ain't seen much you can't do.”

A small laugh skittered out of her. “Now, now. Compliments will not change my mind. Hosea was right to ask me to stay. I'll be of more use here looking after everyone. We have the rest of our lives for me to look after you.”

Something about that seemed to take a weight from Bill's shoulders. He smiled at the ground. “Guess that's right. Didn't think of it that way.”

“Besides, you know I'll be with you in spirit.” She crawled to him, placing her grass rope around his head before tapping his chest. “Right here. If you get into a tight spot, just ask yourself what I would do. And then... depending on the situation, perhaps do the exact opposite.”

Bill laughed, grabbing her waist and pulling her atop him as he laid back in the grass. She shrieked playfully, laughing with him. From her position above him, she pressed her nose to his. “You'll be ok. Everything is going to be ok. And when it's over, we'll be headed for a tropical paradise where the only things we'll have to worry about are sea monsters and sunburns.”

She said it for her own benefit as much as his. With the way things had been going, it was impossible not to worry and doubt, but doing so brought down the wrath of Dutch who was just so damned sure of himself and his dream. Star wanted to believe in him and the future he spoke of, but there were so many unknowns. When this job was finally out of the way, perhaps they would finally have some direction.

The pair spent the night close together, turning in early though neither found sleep so easily. After some tossing and turning, they both gave up. Bill took a comb to Star's dark locks and tried to practice his braiding. Charles had shown him some time ago, but he was still struggling to get it down. Fine motor skills weren't exactly his forte. Still, it was comforting for Star to feels his fingers in her hair, even if they occasionally pulled. He apologized every time.

As the sky began to turn grey, Star's anxiety grew. Despite knowing that it was best for her to stay, she wanted to go and watch her man's back. Hell, she wanted to watch everyone's back. Her single trip to Saint Denis was enough for her to know that it wasn't going to be easy getting out of there. Winding streets made for too many places that pursuers could bottleneck them in or cut them off.

When the camp began to stir, Star helped Bill dress in his suit, unable to keep a snicker to herself. “What?” he asked, turning to and fro, trying to find what she was laughing at.

“Nothing. It's just... was that the only fabric you could find?

“What's wrong with it?”

She appraised the plaid suit, leaning her chin into her hand. “I mean... nothing, really. It's just a bit... chaotic.” His hair was a bushy mess too, as usual, adding to the frazzled look. “Come here.” She grabbed some pomade and coated her comb in it before dragging it through his hair until it laid down into something resembling respectable. “Better.”

“I ain't tryin' to get a job at the bank, I'm tryin' to rob the damn thing,” he retorted, though not without amusement and warmth.

“You gotta get in the place first, and they're not going to let you within a mile looking like a vagrant who's had too much cocaine.”

“Now, that's just unkind.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his torso. “I'm only joking. You look fine.”

He sighed, twisting his arms around her shoulders. “Still wish you was comin' with me.”

“I am, remember? Right here.” She tapped his chest again. “Besides, you'll be back before sundown, and then we'll be outta here. No more gators and buzzing bugs. Paradise.”

“Right. Mangoes. All that.”

“Exactly. So go on. The sooner you go, the sooner we leave this place.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, and for a moment, Star wondered if this is what normal couples felt like. Just a wife sending her husband off to work with the dream of a better future. Of course, normal jobs didn't seem quite so harrowing.

They made their way outside where the camp was bustling with activity. Everyone was dressed sharply and mounting up or climbing atop a wagon. Star escorted Bill to the wagon he would be driving, though as she stood there, Charles squeezed her shoulder on his way by and Arthur pat her back with a reassuring smile. She gave them both smiles, then handed Bill's rifle up to him.

“So,” Hosea called, “we rob ourselves a bank, and within six weeks we're living life anew in a tropical idyll, spending the last of our days as banana farmers! Let's get the hell outta this place and rob ourselves a bank!”

With a clamor of whoops and hollers, nearly half the gang rode out of camp, kicking up dust. Just as they disappeared through the trees, Dutch's voice floated back. “This is it, gentlemen! The last one!”

And just like that, Shady Belle fell quiet once more, leaving those left behind with nothing more to do but wait. Ms. Grimshaw made half an effort to convince people to pack up so that they'd be ready to move when it was all said and done, but she didn't take to it with her usual vigor. Everyone was worried, but hopeful.

Star and Sadie kept an eye on the borders of camp, each taking patrol of either side. Without really realizing it at first, Star picked the eastern edge of camp so that she could stare in the direction of Saint Denis as she paced. Of course, for a long while, such an endeavor seemed useless, but when an explosion carried through the air, and a distant pillar of smoke became visible, it no longer felt so.

Ms. Grimshaw came to stand with her, staring in the direction of the smoke. “Must be Hosea's distraction. He is quite the showman.”

Star smiled softly. “You wouldn't guess it just from looking at him.”

“No,” the older woman agreed, “but I have known him for a very long time. He enjoys an artful distraction.” She paused, eyeing Star with a perception that smacked of a mother's. “Don't you worry yourself. They'll be alright. This ain't their first rodeo.”

A small chuckled found its way out of Star's tense frame. “No, I suppose it's not. It's all just kinda new for me, you know? I've only been with you all for a few months, and sometimes I forget the reputation the Van Der Linde Gang had prior to Blackwater going south. Even I had heard a tale or two of your exploits.”

“That right?”

She nodded. “I'm from farther north than you guys ever roamed, but stories travel. Of course, they change every time someone tells it too.”

“Ain't that the truth,” Ms. Grimshaw laughed. “Well, I'll leave ya to your work. Whenever you get hungry, Mr. Pearson made some oatmeal this mornin'.”

“Thank you, Ms. Grimshaw.”

When Star was left alone again, she turned her attentions back to the swamp. The only threat she could see was the monstrous creatures that lurked in the mud and hissed at anything that got too close, but they didn't seem particularly interested in raiding the place. The O'Driscolls seemed to have learned their lesson and stayed away, though they'd done damage enough by taking Kieran. Deep down, Star was looking forward to getting away from here – away from all the bad memories.

Morning turned to afternoon, and as that began to drag on, the fragile confidence that had hung over the camp began to dissipate. Star abandoned her post to find Sadie who was standing near the entrance of the camp, gazing into the trees.

“Don't you think they should've been back by now?” the Lakota woman murmured, trying to keep her voice low enough so that her concerns would not infect the others.

“From what Arthur told me about the plan... yeah. Maybe they just got held up.”

“Maybe. Had to take the long way back to shake followers or something. Still... we should probably get everyone ready to move, in case we need to make a quick exit.”

“Right. I'll see to that. You stay here. Keep an eye out. Holler if you see anything.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Sadie headed into the heart of camp, hurrying people along with the packing. Most of the equipment was good to go, but there were some lingering tasks to be done. Normally, Star would have expected to hear one of the girls grumbling about it, but no one did. The stakes were too high. Even Reverend Swanson had taken to loading things onto wagons.

Afternoon took a turn towards evening, and Star's chest grew tighter as the sky grew darker. The shadows between the trees were becoming harder to see through. The camp behind her was eerily quiet, almost as if they were all straining to hear any sign of the bank party.

When she could no longer see more than fifty yards in front of her, Star pulled back to camp. “Mr. Pearson,” she called quietly to the cook. “Keep the fires small.”

He nodded, but then asked, “Why does it feel like we're expecting to be attacked?”

“Because we don't know what's coming. They should've been back by now. For all we know, the next riders through those trees could be Pinkertons. Let's not give anyone more cause to find us than we must.”

“Star,” Sadie called, waving her over to a secluded spot by the porch.

She jogged to join her friend, and they huddled together in discussion. “Sadie, something isn't right.”

“I agree. We might wanna consider movin' camp.”

“To where? Nobody thought up a contingency plan if everything went pear-shaped.”

“I know, I know,” Sadie sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Just don't feel safe, stayin' here.”

“You're right. It doesn't.”

In the distance, little Jack asked, “Miss Mary-Beth, where's momma?”

Star and Sadie glanced over to find Mary-Beth's eyes on them as she answered, “Don't you worry about your momma and daddy. They'll be back soon.”

A slight rain had begun to fall, adding absolutely nothing positive to the mood of the place. “What do we do?” Star whispered, almost rhetorically.

Just then, she caught movement in the trees at the entrance of camp. She ran out, gun raised and shouted, “Who goes there?”

“Charles and Abigail!” her chosen brother's voice called back.

The camp burst into noise as everyone rushed the pair who had arrived alone and on foot. “Where is everyone? What's happened?” Ms. Grimshaw cried.

“It went bad,” Charles replied as Abigail rushed forward to pull Jack into her arms. “Pinks and cops everywhere. Hosea's dead. Lenny too.”

Mary-Beth gasped and Karen sighed, “Jesus.”

“John got cuffed and taken away. We don't know where.”

“What about the others?” Pearson asked.

“When I left 'em, Dutch, Bill, Javier, Arthur, and Micah were going to sneak on board one of the docked ships in the harbor. Don't know which one. Don't know where they are or where they're going. It's... it's just us.”

Everyone stood in shocked, grieving silence. Star turned her gaze back towards Saint Denis, fighting the desperate burn of tears around her eyes. I should have gone with him.

“We need to move camp,” Sadie announced decisively. “They're probably lookin' for the rest of us. We got everything pretty well packed, but we gotta find somewhere to go. Me and Charles will ride out in the morning to find a place. Star, you'll stay here to keep an eye on things, and when we find somewhere, we'll come get everyone.”

There were quiet murmurs of agreement and comprehension before what was left of the Van Der Linde gang slowly dissipated to find what sleep and comfort they could.

Charles came to Star, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked, his dark eyes watching her own as she gazed out into the darkness.

“No,” she whispered, her lip quivering. “But I'm not gonna let them see that. Somebody's gotta be strong for these people, and it's gonna have to be me and you and Sadie and Ms. Grimshaw. Otherwise none of us are going to make it.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But maybe they'll be back sooner than...”

“It doesn't matter what may happen. We need to proceed like they're never coming back. Because they just as surely might die wherever it is they're going. We can't rest all our hopes and actions on assumptions that they're coming back. They might as well be dead.”

“Star... he's not dead. Not yet.”

She turned to him, eyes sparkling with tears. “And maybe tomorrow he will be. He's not here. None of them are here. And we have to function without them. So there's no use holding onto hope. Hope has forsaken us.”

With that, she turned and stalked off into the night, unable to bring herself to go to the tent she and Bill shared. Instead, she made her way through the house, up the stairs to the Arthur's room. For a while she stood staring out of the broken window across from the door, then she moved around the room, examining Arthur's belongings. Each one she placed into her satchel. Whether he came back or not, she didn't want to leave them sitting around.

As the exhaustion of the previous sleepless night crashed down on her, Star curled up on Arthur's cot and cried herself to sleep, vowing that in the morning the tears would stop. When she rose the next day, she would be the protector the gang needed her to be. But for tonight, she would mourn her friends and send a hapless, hopeless prayer to the universe to keep the man she loved safe.

#my writing #Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead Redemption 2 #Bill Williamson x oc #bill williamson #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #susan grimshaw #simon pearson #sadie adler #charles smith #lashes #the long awaited return of my epic lol #god it's been so long #I missed these fools

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