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starsofang · 27 days

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Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 3

previous part

tw: alcohol use, brief mentions of suicide, soft ghost <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Day six.

You made it another day in your deal with Ghost, and it was supposed to feel good. The entire point was to prove to him and yourself that you didn’t want to die, that you could figure out the demons in your head and summon them out, but it was proving to be a much more difficult task than you thought.

Waking up on the morning of your sixth day didn’t feel all that good like you thought it would. Ghost hadn’t returned to your apartment since he stayed to see you make it to day five, and you weren’t sure when he was coming back.

It wasn’t clear why you were taking a liking to his company. Maybe you were lonely, maybe you just needed a friend, and he happened to be there in the right place at the right time.

The thought of it scared you, though. You hadn’t let anybody into your life since your ex-boyfriend, and you always preferred it that way – keeping a distance meant you wouldn’t get hurt again, and certainly, this masked man would eventually do the same thing to you if he decided to stick around.

You wanted to call the deal off. Not because you still wanted him to kill you, not because you wanted your life to end, but because you didn’t want to grow attached, just for you to not have a change of heart in the end.

It would be fucked up of you if you allowed a bond to form between you and Ghost, only to take it away through an act of death after the deal was up. That would just be plain selfish.

So, you tried distracting yourself instead.

It was a nice day today, and the weather, albeit chilly with that slight bite of cold wind, was an almost perfect excuse to take a night off and have fun by yourself in a bar. Surely, that doesn’t count as you going against Ghost’s deal of self-healing bullshit if it’s just for fun, right?

That’s exactly what led you to appear at a local bar downtown. Ironically, it was right down the street from the coffee shop where you first met Simon in the meeting to discuss your self-proclaimed suicide mission. You passed it on your walk to the bar, and a slight feeling of guilt tugged at your heartstrings as your eyes drifted to it, even as it was already behind you.

Shaking the guilt away, you continued on your journey along the sidewalk. There was no reason to feel guilty. You owed nothing to Ghost, and you were still technically keeping up your end of the bargain. A harmless night of fun was something you needed to shoo away those demons, at least that’s what you told yourself.

The bar wasn’t packed, which you didn’t mind. After all, it was only a Thursday night and most people had work the next morning. Lucky for you, that meant the bar wouldn’t take a long time for your drink orders, so you wasted no time in diving in, conversing with the bartender as the night went on.

About four drinks in, you could feel the weight of the alcohol lay heavy on your mind. It made things a bit hazy, like a brewing fog was beginning to loom over you. Your arms rested comfortably on the bar counter, head slightly bowed down as you attempted to keep yourself upright. Being an ex-alcoholic (you absolutely were not an ex, you just loved to float down the river of denial), alcohol was unpredictable in the way it affected your body.

Sometimes, it forced you to loosen up and have fun.

Other times, it made the weight of your issues much heavier.

Right now, it was an awkward middle, like your body was torn between wanting to enjoy this moment of serene relaxation, and wanting to plop right into bed and sleep your worries away, pretending they never existed in the first place.

The sound of somebody plunking themselves down on the stool next to you forced your head to lift, and when you came in sight of that damned mask, you wanted to stand up and let your legs lead you right to the bar’s exit.

Ghost sat unbothered, ordered himself a bourbon from the kind bartender. She flashed him a polite smile, throwing me a slight glance, and when you gave her a shrug, she left the two of you alone after retrieving Ghost’s drink.

“You a stalker now or something?” you grumbled in feigned annoyance, letting your head loll back down on the counter with a huff.

Ghost’s hand wrapped around the glass of bourbon while the other lifted his mask enough to reveal his mouth. You noticed instantly that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and you stared at the littered scars on his hands as well as the veins that ran up from his knuckles and beneath the cuff of his hoodie sleeve.

Swallowing, you forced yourself to look away from them, opting on his eyes.

“Somethin’ like that,” he hummed, tipping the glass to his mouth to take a sip of the bitter alcohol. You wrinkled your nose up at it, not quite fond of dark liquor (though, who were you to be picky, seeing your collection of scattered bottles that consumed your home?).

“‘M not gonna kill myself, y’know,” you slurred out in defense, rolling your head so your cheek rested flat on the counter as you stared at him with what you hoped was perceived as disapproval.

“I know, love. Wouldn’t hire me if you were.”

Touche.

Frowning to yourself, you observed the way his lips parted to allow more of the murky liquor to pour into his mouth and down his throat, your eyes dropping to see his throat bob as he swallowed. The small scar on his lips caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment more, taking in the slight curve of it over his top lip, the scar tissue white in contrast to the light pinkess of his mouth.

“Why are you here?” you managed to ask, having to practically pry your eyes away from him.

The alcohol must’ve been getting to your brain too much, because you had the brief thought that he looked pretty. Gosh, half of his face was still covered by the mask, what was wrong with you?

“Went by your place. Saw you weren’t there.”

“You mean broke into my place,” you corrected, and you swore you nearly saw stars from the way his lip curled up in amusement.

“Mm. Maybe that,” he agreed with a careless shrug.

He leaned one of his arms on the counter, tilting his head in your direction. You could feel his eyes taking you in, studying you as always, as if you were a book he was analyzing every time he saw you. They stare at your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol. Your hair, which was lazily falling in your face from where your head lay. Your mouth, which was pulled into a mix of a frown and a pout that you clearly had no intentions of wiping off.

“Why are you here?” He repeated the question back to you, and you gave him the same shrug he had given you.

“I can’t have fun?”

“This fun to you?”

“...No.”

He chuckled out a laugh that rumbled you to the core, and you blinked stupidly at him as he downed the rest of the bourbon.

“Thought so, sweetheart. It’s a bit dingy in here, innit?”

You shifted your eyes to take in the bar, and sad to say, he was right. The bar itself wasn’t all that great, though you didn’t necessarily come because it was lavish. It was pretty old and outdated, with wooden counters, old floors, and stools that creaked under every movement. But hey, they had a pool table and a dart board, so it wasn’t all that bad.

“Maybe just a bit,” you sighed out, and he smiled at you.

“Right. So why are you here?” He asked again, and you stared at him for a moment before sighing again.

“Figuring myself out like you wanted me to,” you offered, and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow under the balaclava.

“Figurin’ yourself out with half a dozen vodka cranberries isn’t somethin’ I see as helpful. Weird choice in drink, by the way.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but promptly shut it, because damn it, vodka cranberries really weren’t all that good.

His fingers tapped mindlessly along the empty glass in front of him, and you found your gaze once again drifting to take in the rough pads of his fingers and healed cuts on the back of his hand. For a moment, a very, very brief moment, you wished you could reach out and take hold of it, just to feel what it was like to hold somebody else’s hand again.

It had been a long time since you’d had any sort of touch, both innocent and intimate, and your ex-boyfriend certainly wasn’t the type of man to hold your hand like delicate glass and place kisses along the back of it.

Ghost let out a long sigh through his nose as he took note of your mental absence. “That pretty head of yours is always runnin’ around.”

Pretty head. He always said that, and now, it caused a weird clench in your chest.

“You’re pretty,” you blurted out drunkenly, and when Ghost stared at you in silence, you prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Never in your life had something so embarrassing happened, and you weren’t even sure why you said that.

You’d met Ghost a total of three times, and it wasn’t under normal circumstances. Most people meet a man on dating apps or at a damn park where they accidentally bump into one another and have a moment of love at first sight. You met Ghost off of the fucking dark web.

“You’re pretty too, sweetheart.” He chuckled in amusement, seemingly unbothered by your sudden display of admiration, and you felt your cheeks warm.

You aggressively turned your head away from him, plopping your other cheek on the counter so you wouldn’t have to look at him. He made no move to stop you, which you were thankful for.

“Think it’s ‘bout time you start goin’ home and get yourself ready for day seven, yeah?”

Ghost’s voice sent a buzz through your already fuzzy body, and instead of protesting, you found yourself nodding despite him being unable to see your face.

Yeah, home sounded good. Your bed sounded good. Sleeping this shame off sounded good.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and when you felt a hand lightly rest on your shoulder, you picked your head up to look at him.

His mask was back over his mouth, but his eyes crinkled in a familiar smile as he gestured his head to the bar door.

Oh. He wanted to walk you.

You stood on legs of jelly, lightly swaying as you gained your balance. His hand reached out to grab hold of your elbow, and when you met his soft gaze, you felt small underneath it. Tall was what he was, towering over you, but instead of feeling intimidated like you did in your first meeting, you felt a wave of security.

Ghost had somehow knew you would be here, drinking away your sorrows, and he showed up with no judgment. Now he was offering to walk you to your apartment, even though he barely knew you.

Were hitmen always this sweet? Or was it just Ghost?

You let your mind run astray as he gently guided you out of the bar and on the sidewalk of downtown, keeping a light grip on you the entire way. No words were said, but none needed to be. The silence was comforting, and it allowed you your moment of serenity while you processed just how much this man was doing for you on his own free whim.

You expected Ghost to simply drop you off at your door and leave you to go inside, but when he fumbled with the doorknob and led you into your home, you realized he wasn’t that kind of asshole and he wanted to make sure you made it to bed instead of a heap on the floor.

His hand remained on your elbow as he took you to your room. The sight of your bed was one that could’ve brought you to tears, and you happily crawled into it, curling up in a ball the moment your head hit the pillow.

Ghost stood by your bedside as he waited for you to get comfortable, before stepping out of the room. At first, you thought he left you without saying goodbye.

Your mind plagued you in those futile seconds. Was he mad at you? Did you disappoint him by going out and drinking again?

Then you heard the tell tale signs of him rummaging around in cabinets, and you could only guess he was in the kitchen. You continued to lay there patiently while he proceeded with whatever task he busied himself with, eyes staring into the darkness that filled the room.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water, which he set carefully on the nightstand near your head.

You didn’t understand. Nobody had ever shown you such kindness before. Life had only ever given you the hands of people who would use you up until you were wrung dry. People always expected things in return, and your fear was making you wonder if that was what Ghost was expecting.

To make things worse, you practically invited that idea into his head by saying he was pretty.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. It came out in a tone that revealed your hidden uncertainty, and he instantly took note of it from the way his eyes softened beneath the fabric of his mask.

“You’re drunk. Not goin’ to just leave you there to dehydrate.”

“No.” You shook your head, frowning up at him. “I mean, why are you doing any of this? The deal, helping me, watching me, I– I don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want, sweetheart?” he asked you, crouching down by your bedside so he could be eye level with you. You wanted to look away, you should’ve looked away, but you had never seen such gentle eyes before.

“I… I don’t know. Sex? More money? Isn’t this all some sort of trick?”

“Sex? A trick?” His tone was slightly offended, perhaps even hurt, and you instantly wanted to take your words back. “No, sweetheart, that’s not why I’m doin’ any of this. I’m doin’ this ‘cause I care.”

“But why?”

The air filled with silence as we competed in a staredown, and the sobering side of you was regretting every moment of this conversation. Stupid girl, always ruining good things, why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut–

“I see myself in you,” he confessed, and you shut your mind up. You didn’t respond, only continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to continue. “You’re hurtin’. I can see that. Life’s treated you real bad, hasn’t it?”

His words felt both like salt being poured into your open wounds, while simultaneously placing a bandaid over them with loving hands.

“You’re the only person who’s ever tried to hire me to kill themselves. Couldn’t just leave you high ‘n dry like that, not when you’re hurtin’ that bad. I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“But… you will, if I end up deciding that’s what I want, right?” You weren’t sure if you were convincing yourself or convincing him.

Ghost stared at you, eyes flickering over your face that was dimly lit up from the stray rays of moonlight peeking in through your sliding door of your balcony. Your eyes were slightly glossed over from both the alcohol and unshed tears that threatened to spill, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe them away, to encourage you to let them fall.

“Don’t know if I have the willpower to do that to you anymore, sweetheart.”

He stood up from where he was crouched beside your bed, and your eyes followed, staying locked on his.For a pause in time, the two of you said nothing, and the room filled with a deafening silence that made it hard to breathe.

It was broken when he carefully lifted his hand, reaching to your face to brush a stray hair that was hanging over your eyes. The rough pad of his finger lingered, tracing along your eyebrow and tracing out the feature before promptly pulling back.

“Get some rest,” he said, voice soft and quiet, but still with the tinges of gravelly undertone that made it sound like a sweet lullaby.

Your nod was confirmation for him to leave, and as he stepped out of your bedroom, you called out to him.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Ghost,” you thanked with a grateful smile.

He looked at you for a moment before smiling himself, evident in the way his eyes wrinkled.

“Call me Simon, love.”

#cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw3 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #hitman au #simon riley #i love them your honor

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qingxin-dream · 9 months

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“Just One Good Thing”

summary | it’s hard to love someone who is broken, and even harder when two broken people love so deeply it hurts. (art credits: @/pastahands on twitter).

warnings | not proofread/vent writing, scaramouche lore spoilers, brief graphic depiction of death, illness, loss, profanity, TW heavy mental health topics, self-hatred, dissociation, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, graphic description of self-harm wounds, fear of abandonment, guilt, reader is hospitalized

genre | angst, hurt, comfort

word count | 2.5k

pairing | wanderer x reader

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This was not the first time the puppet experienced betrayal.

How could you have known? It was long before you came into existence, hundreds of years of anguish buried in layers upon layers beneath his artificial constitution. He had once been but an innocent, naive babe with the world sparkling in the reflection of his violet eyes, meant for something greater. He had once fulfilled a purpose.

To be brought into the world against your will, crafted from the divine hand of a grieving Archon, only to have every semblance of your being ripped from you and cast aside in the name of so-called mercy—is a fate akin to death itself.

You never knew his past.

How he was once an eccentric named Kabukimono who wandered from Shakkei Pavilion and made friends with the blade smiths of Tatarasuna. His first taste of human life was amid a blazing furnace and the clamoring of a hammer onto hot metal, learning what it meant to labor and create. He had grown to love the little village as his own, playing with the children and sipping on the bitter taste of tea leaves with his comrades.

The puppet who had called himself Kabukimono was painfully ignorant to the cruelty of fate.

He could have never fathomed the day he would hold the future of his village in his trembling, pale hands as the toxic Tatarigami fumes envelope him in chemicals. There he climbed deep inside the Mikage Furnace, the unique resilience of his artificial body left unharmed by the inhospitable temperatures glowing hot against his divine skin. Any normal human would’ve perished a thousand times over.

Inside the foreign device that promised to save his home lay the bloody, withering heart cut fresh from his closest companion’s chest.

“You are a human, Kabukimono,” Niwa had insisted with a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, a comforting hand resting on the eccentric’s shoulder. “You just don’t have a heart.”

Yet there the puppet stood, his voice robbed from his aching throat, cradling the very essence of his friend’s humanity in his palm.

It was his fault. What a foolish creature he was to ever involve himself with humans, whom he could only bring suffering. His tears were evaporated instantly as the grotesque realization dawned on the distraught young Kabukimono. He would later discover that he had been betrayed by a man who introduced himself as Escher but was known among the Fatui as The Doctor.

The dirty pads of his bare feet had thumped through the rocky village path and down the dirt roads leading to the outskirts of the rural Inazuman wilderness. Crows rustled in the trees and flapped their feathers into the sky, jeering at the desolate and abandoned settlement.

The village should have been evacuated. All who could have been saved were rushed as far away as possible from the poisonous Tatarigami. Rows upon rows of homes and businesses were eerily vacant. Kabukimono, in his watery hysterics, had not paid any mind to his surroundings, leaving behind the only home he ever had for good.

That is, until he stumbled across a young boy who lived under an old sakura tree. Kabukimono immediately felt the void in his chest wrench with visceral guilt upon learning that the child’s parents were crafts-people. The house was utterly empty except for the lonely little boy.

For as much as the puppet wanted nothing more than to rid himself of human companionship, he felt responsible for the loss of the boy’s parents. He had an obligation to see that he was taken care of and safe from the Tatarigami. If he could not have saved his friends, perhaps he could atone for his sins in raising the orphaned child—who reminded him too much of himself.

“Promise me,” Kabukimono spoke up with a bit of a hoarse tone, his voice cracking with emotion, extending a shaky hand to the young boy. “That we can be family. I will watch over you.”

“Like a big brother?” asked the innocent boy with a hopeful smile. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, taking the eccentric’s hand in his own. “I’ve always wanted one… I promise, we will be family.”

For a short while, the puppet had learned to push the turmoil plaguing his conscience to the back of his mind. His focus had shifted entirely to ensuring the boy’s safety and happiness, trying to scavenge food for him and exchanging stories under the moonlight. Although, Kabukimono flinched with each cough from the boy that shattered the silence between them as they went to sleep.

He hated that he recognized the symptoms. The residue of the Tatarigami had somehow infected the child, no doubt. A dreadful thought occurred to him—perhaps he had given the sickness to the orphaned child after what happened at the Mikage Furnace. The idea was enough to eat him alive with worry. Kabukimono had secretly prayed that the boy would endure the illness.

The puppet had worked tirelessly to give him the best he possibly could. If his coughs were dry, he would fetch him water. If his stomach rumbled, he would prepare some Lavender Melons. If he needed a friend, Kabukimono would be there to hold his hand as he slept like a guardian angel.

The day the elderly sakura tree shed its pretty pink blossoms was the day the boy was found unresponsive.

Kabukimono, too, found himself hollow and devoid. What did it mean to be family? What did it mean to love? What was the point of having such worthless emotions?

A blazing inferno consumed the darkness of the night sky. Crackling embers swirled and smoke bellowed in the rural countryside as a rickety house succumbed to a hellish fate. No one was there to witness the flaming spectacle. No one to help, or save the vacant violet eyes of a nameless puppet who clutched a small doll in his lap.

It was laughable, truly, how sick and twisted the world could be. The puppet couldn’t fulfill his creator’s wishes, nor could he befriend humanity, or have a heart of his own. Oh, to perish in a fiery death would be far too simple for Celestia’s liking, wouldn’t it?

For five hundred years, Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche—no matter who he became—the feeling of inadequacy remained.

His divinely-created body was an immortal prison, shackling him to his sins. As a Fatui Harbinger, no needle, blade, or poison of the Doctor could kill him. No enemy or magic of the Abyss could ultimately break him. The puppet was built to withstand the likes of the Cataclysm that had taken his creator’s sister, yet the scars of these experiments litter his fair skin are a reminder that he is indeed alive.

Wanderer vividly remembers his dark fascination with testing his limits in the depths of his dissociation. Anything to serve as penance for the irreversible destruction he had inflicted upon his friends, his family, and his home. If he was lucky, perhaps the Doctor would find a way to end his misery or the maddening darkness of the Abyss would swallow him whole once and for all.

Even forsaking his autonomy and identity as Scaramouche to ascend to godhood would be a fitting death for the puppet. After all, the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom would never bow to his emotions like a weakling. Losing himself to infinite knowledge and truth would be a good ending, despite the insanity that would befall him.

All that mattered is he would cease to exist.

But it was you who defeated him, in all his might and glory as a fake Archon pumped full of divine wisdom and the sludgy remains of dead gods. It was you who found him after he tried to erase every part of his worthless being from Irminsul, and helped him pick up the pieces of himself in the aftermath.

The reality that lies within Irminsul had given him a new perspective as the Wanderer. Though he retained the poignant memories of his sins, Wanderer made sure to carve a special space in the void of his artificial body just for you. His savior.

Not a single one of those instances—absolutely fucking none of them—could ever compare to the morbid and desperate pit of despair that ravages Wanderer at the sight of your fragile body curled up in a white hospital gown. You are hooked up to a myriad of monitors and machines, wires and tubes tangling your frame like chains. The distant beep of the electrocardiogram is burned into Wanderer’s mind.

It’s your heartbeat, and the very reason for his continued existence. You had been reduced to small blip on a computer screen.

The hospital room was otherwise silent. The windows had the blinds slightly drawn, a cool ray of moonlight washing over Wanderer’s disheveled indigo hair from behind. Even if you were unconscious, Wanderer had wanted to tuck you in for the night, but he was terrified of hurting you. The fluorescent white light above your bed was off, bathing you both in warm darkness.

In the late hours, all Wanderer could do was stare at you with eyes reddened from crying, his crimson eyeliner smudged at the edge of lashes. He would occasionally lick his dry lips, which were chapped and peeling. The sting of the dead skin on his lips being tugged between his teeth was a momentary release from the overwhelming anxiety dwelling within.

His thin fingers are intertwined with yours on the hospital bed, one of the few ways the puppet can keep himself grounded in this moment. Every once in awhile, he’ll give your hand a gentle squeeze followed by a few broken wishes for you to open your eyes again. To see the life in you and hear your sweet voice again.

Sometimes it would get to be too much. Wanderer would raise your hand and kiss your knuckles with hot, salty tears pricking at his eyes. The stinging sensation would force his eyelids closed, sorrow streaming down his stained cheeks. He was sure that this was a result of his own shortcomings.

Your arms are wrapped in bandages with a few stitches here and there lying underneath. A deathly pale color flushed your beautiful face. And oh, Archons, those eyes of yours he had always adored endlessly were sunken darkly into your face, hidden in your slumber. His gaze drifted to your lips, still full and pink, perhaps his last vestige of hope as they parted for your sacred breaths.

To imagine you’re suffering as much as he had in his past is utterly unthinkable to Wanderer.

The only difference is your fragile mortality. He knows your pain now, he can see it carved onto your wrists in what must have been a frenzied meltdown.

Some cuts are lighter and faded, meaning this certainly isn’t the first time you hurt yourself. Other gashes in your arm are deeper and swollen, each one weighs on the puppet’s heart greater than the last. He couldn’t count how many times you must have taken that razor to your wrist. Wanderer silently curses himself for letting this happen to you.

“How stupid could I be? Letting her away from me,” he quietly lamented with his head in hands, fingers curling around his indigo locks tightly. “I had just one good thing.”

Rocking himself gently in the chair next to you, Wanderer continuously tugs at his hair to an almost extreme degree, unable to handle the anger, betrayal, and sadness overcoming him. He was practically attached to you at the hip, he should’ve noticed when your voice faltered or when your eyes betrayed your words. He should’ve seen the signs of you slipping through his fingers.

Even if every day wasn’t perfect, even if sometimes you both said hurtful things to each other, neither of you never truly meant it. Wanderer couldn’t bear to imagine not waking up next to you, the morning sunlight kissing your silhouette like an angel. He never thought that he’d find his purpose in you, in the most mundane moments that he cherished so deeply.

He knew you had a history of mental health struggles. So did he. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give you his everything—fingers entwined and sweat glistening on your bodies as he made you his for the umpteenth time.

The echo of the puppet’s soft sobs dissipates into the emptiness of the hospital room. His whole body is shaking with emotional agony. It’s the first time in centuries that he has allowed himself to feel vulnerable like this. How could he not when the love of his life—the meaning of his existence—had tried to take themselves out of it?

Wanderer finally releases his hair, taking your left hand again and passionately pressing his lips to your bare ring finger as an unspoken promise. You both had worked so hard to love better and be better. He wasn’t about to give you up.

There would never be another you in eternity.

He couldn’t bear the heavy burden on his heart anymore. Carefully, he pulled the thin blanket back and climbed into the hospital bed next to you. His fingers trembled at the contact, feeling your faint warmth. Wanderer gently pulled you close so that your head was safely tucked into his chest and he could rest his chin on your soft hair. He sighed, covering you both in the blanket once more.

Sobs tugged at his chest and his grip on you momentarily tightened. Though tears glistened at the corner of his broken violet eyes, Wanderer blinked them back with a shaky breath. You were in his arms and his world was made whole again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice is gravely and barely audible. “I love you so fucking much… don’t you dare think otherwise.”

The puppet nuzzles his nose into your scalp, breathing in your familiarity like it’s home. He begins to play with your hair gently, combing and caressing your soft strands with his fingertips painted in black.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know…” Wanderer kisses your hair, closing his eyelids for a long moment to memorialize the feeling of your skin on his lips. “But I’m gonna get you out of here, baby. I’m gonna get you help, okay?”

His toned arms keep your body pressed to his, wanting to feel every part of your being entangled with him as it should be. The tickling sensation of your little breaths on his neck brought a small smile to his face because it meant you were sleeping comfortably and most importantly, alive. You were the missing piece in his puzzle, fitting perfectly into place with him.

“It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay,” the puppet whispers to you, hoping you could hear and feel his love in every way, shape, and form possible. His words also served as an assurance to himself because in this moment he felt so helpless, seeing the wounds on your precious skin.

“I won’t let anything hurt you anymore,” Wanderer solemnly vows, his voice slowly but surely trailing off as he succumbs to his exhaustion with you held close to his heart.

“Goodnight, my love.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

#wrote something much darker for a change #been listening to ‘heather’ by ruby haunt💔#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin wanderer #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche angst

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sarafinamk · 1 month

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Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 4

Summary: Bobby has been dealing with a lot of guilt ever since you went into rehab. Now that you're finally getting released, she's determined to make it up to you.

Two chapters in one day! Let's go! Check out the other parts here. The Smiling Critters Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injury, Trauma, Death mentions, Mentions of assassination attempts, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Self harm Attempt, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Brief Anxiety Attack, Slight cursing, LOTS of negative thoughts, Implied Abuse, Conditioning

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Bobby woke up and shot herself out of bed before her alarm could finish its first beep. She puts on her uniform, goes through her usual routine, and finishes by the time everyone else wake up. The other riders exchange worried glances amongst each other but they say nothing to Bobby.

Today’s the day the riders pick you up from the treatment center so you can continue to serve your sentence with them. Sure, serving your sentence in the same station where they kept the other prisoners would seem like the obvious choice, if you were any other enemy to the galaxy, that is. But the fact is, you’re not, and Commander Ludwig isn’t sure just how many more break-ins he and the medical staff are able to handle.

Of course, word would get around that the Prototype’s archangel was being confined at HQ’s treatment center. To no one’s surprise, anyone with a vendetta and a craving for bloodshed, would try to find you and your cell. You never got hurt, at least. No extra security measures are enough to dissuade them it seems.

Bobby gets herself situated in the cockpit, glancing back and forth between the starry scenery, the clock on the wall, and the navigation tab open in front of Dogday. She sighs while absent-mindedly bouncing her leg hard enough to turn the couch into a massage chair.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, Bobby?” Dogday’s concerned voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “It’s okay if you want to stay behind while we get (Y/n). There’s no pressure. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Bobby gives her best reassuring, confident smile.

“Dogday, I appreciate your concern, but I can’t avoid (Y/n) forever. I have to face them eventually. And I really do want to see them.”

There is a brief moment of silence before Dogday sighs, nods, and goes back to piloting the ship. Bobby goes back to glancing out the window, her smile quickly disappearing.

She didn’t lie. She really wanted to visit you. Just once. Everyone else has visited you at least a few times, but Bobby couldn’t even find the courage to visit you after what happened in your old prison cell. None of her teammates held it against her, but she sure as heck did. She's a trained medic for crying out loud! She shouldn't have been acting hysterical the way she was, especially when you needed her the most. She's dealt with blood and injuries before. She's dealt with a few mentally unstable cultists during her time as a Space Rider. She's even helped out people in similar situations like you before.

No!

She has to remember that she may not have been much help during such a critical moment, but help came to you on time. You’re surrounded by trained medics and from what the other riders have told her, you’ve been recovering well in the treatment center. That's what matters!

Part of her, however, still holds onto the fear that if she visited your cell, she would find you all bloody and on the edge of death again. Some nights, she would have nightmares about that.

What if it happens today?

Soon enough, they arrive at the Space Station. Straightening her uniform and taking a deep breath, Bobby follows Dogday into the station. Thankfully, the treatment center was close to the hangars. It made the transporting of the injured easier for everyone.

The pair stop at the entrance. Dogday looks back at Bobby with a reassuring smile, gesturing back to the hangars. Bobby returns the smile, more sincere and determined this time. She shakes her head and stares at the neon sign above the entrance. She is going to see you today and she will not back down.

Not this time nor any time going forward.

Dogday nods in understanding, and the pair make their way inside. They check in and wait which didn't take long. Dogday sees you first, and greets you warmly. Bobby turns to where her captain was looking and there you were.

You walk out the hallway with two riders and a doctor. Bobby frowns upon seeing the handcuffs on you. She hated the idea of you being locked in a cell while needing to be hospitalized. Sure, you’ve done terrible things, and you served a terrible being, but you must’ve had a good reason. Call her crazy but she believes there is some good in you.

The riders hand Bobby your bag and stand at attention while the doctor and Dogday discuss your treatment plan going forward. Bobby tries to pay attention, but finds herself too busy staring at you. In her defense, how can she not? She's seeing you for the first time in six months.

She was ACTUALLY seeing you without any bandages, bruises, cuts, or that awful mask you always wore. For the first time, Bobby is seeing the real you, the one everyone called the Archangel. Her teammates were right about you. Not only do you look healthier, but you just look...

Beautiful.

Like...

REALLY beautiful.

You glance her way, and she smiles and waves (albeit very awkwardly). You nod in her direction and turn your focus back to the conversation between Dogday and the doctor.

Oh god, this is awkward.

After a brief exchange of thank you's and goodbyes from both sides, Bobby and Dogday quickly escort you back to the ship.

----------

You internally breathe a sigh of relief the moment you entered the Space Riders’ ship. You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle all those eyes glancing your way. You were waiting for someone to come out of the shadows some way and finish you off just like those intruders that try to break into your cell.

Now that thought made you tense up again despite it being only you and the eight Space Riders in this ship. You couldn't sense any other energies in the ship, but that didn't ease your racing mind one bit. Who knows what the Space Riders will do to you now that they are not forced to follow social protocols?

You still have those damn power mufflers on you. Sure, that shouldn't stop you from fighting, but not only are you surrounded by four riders who have celestial powers, but you're surrounded by four non-celestial riders who, unfortunately, handle themselves well in combat. Unless you can outsmart all eight of them and break your power mufflers in the process, you don't see yourself winning this fight. It's best to be smart about all this.

"Okay, so, first things first, welcome back, (Y/n). We're happy that you're here with us," the Captain begins while clasping his hands together, making you stand straight at full attention. "It's okay, relax. It's just introductions. Nothing formal."

You're not sure if this is supposed to be a test or not, but you would rather not risk failing it when you just got here. You continue to stand at full attention, waiting for the Captain to continue. The Captain sighs, and clears his throat before continuing

"Anyways, I know there's a lot to do and discuss, and you probably have some questions. Don't worry, we'll get to that in time. But since this is your first day back, I think it would be best to try and get you settled in. I can show you where you'll be staying and-"

"Actually," interrupted Bobby, "I can show (Y/n) where they'll be staying."

"Are you sure?" the Captain asks with hesitation in his voice.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure."

The only response she is met with is silence. You wait for something to happen: an argument, physical discipline, a speech, or a fair sentence. You never saw the Captain incorporate the type of punishments that the Prototype did.

At least in public anyways.

But now that he is no longer in the public eye, you're not sure if you're ready to witness the truth for the first time, but you prepare yourself for it anyways. Instead, to your surprise, the first thing the Captain does is take the handcuffs off you, but not the power mufflers.

"Okay, if you're sure."

Bobby cheerfully thanks the Captain and escorts you to the direction of the prison cells. You reach the entrance leading to the prison cells, but Bobby just... passes it. Did she not pay attention to where she was going? Why is she passing it?

You want to ask, but you force yourself to keep quiet. She could be looking to punish you for making her suffer with your selfishness. That’s why she never visited you during your rehabilitation. Instead, she leads you to the riders’ sleeping quarters and into one sleeping quarter that you know was never occupied. All the furniture arranged was as you remember it from previous battles except the bed is now neatly made.

“Here we are. Your new room. It’s not much, but I think it’ll be a nice change of environment for you after being hospitalized for almost a year.”

Not much? This is a lot more than what you see in the sleeping quarters back home. This is much more than the cells you were in for the last several months. If this isn’t “much” to the heretics, then what does having a lot look like to them?

“Crafty and I made some clothes for you. She noticed you like having your head covered, so we made you a lot of hoodies.”

You silently take in every little detail of the room.

“This is all mine?”

“Yes, it is. We weren’t sure how you wanted your room decorated, but we’ll figure that out over time.” Why would it matter how you wanted to decorate this room? At least the Space Riders are giving you, their prisoner, one in the first place. It’s selfish to ask for more than what you deserve. “Picky is making a special dinner to celebrate your recovery and coming back. I’ll come get you when it’s ready. I’ll leave you alone to get settled.” Bobby’s voice cuts off your thoughts, even when you don’t say anything. She smiles and makes her way to the door.

“Thank you,” you say suddenly. Bobby stops dead, turns to you slowly. Her eyes widen.

“What did you say?”

You clear your throat and straighten yourself up. “Considering the fact I’m your prisoner, this is a very generous accommodation.”

Bobby continues to stare at you, and you're questioning if you said the wrong thing already. Not even one hour into your return and you’re already making mistakes. Maybe she’ll change her mind and decide a cell is a more fitting place, but instead of her screaming, or silence and storming away from you, she smiles. “You're not our prisoner here, (Y/n). You're our guest. We want to help you get better. I’m just happy that you’re here with us.”

With that, you are left alone. You hastily dig into your bag which Bobby must have placed in the on the dresser. Thankfully, your journal and the books given to you by Bubba were still there.

You pull one of the drawers and they were full of very thick long-sleeved shirts with hoods. “Hoodies” as Bobby called them. But… which one are you supposed to wear? Bobby never specified which one was mandatory for you, and you couldn’t just ask. You would get punished for not knowing when it should be obvious. You grip the skin of your forearm tightly.

No.

No, no.

No, no, no.

Fight back the temptation to see red! You can’t risk being sent back again. Just take some deep breaths.

In…

Hold…

Out…

Repeat.

Just like the healers taught you. Soon enough, your grip loosens and thankfully, there was no sign of red.

You look back at the drawer of “hoodies.” Since the Space Riders wear white while off duty, then perhaps the white one would be your safest choice. You sigh, hoping that line of reasoning will hold true during mealtime. You relax more when the warmth and softness cover you. The best part was that hood covered your head. It was no mask, but it was better than having your entire head exposed. You were just relieved you no longer had to rely on those infirmary blankets to keep your body and head covered. At least there were no cameras installed in your accommodation… to your knowledge.

Since you had no orders given until mealtime, you decided to explore more of the room. Maybe if you are good, then living as a prisoner of the heretics won’t be so terrible. Maybe you will be able to survive Hell after all.

----------

Stay tuned for the next part "Burn Bright Until You Burn Out"

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markersmadness · 2 months

Text

But here was a man mourning tomorrow,

Who drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow.

PAIRING: Pure Vanilla / Dark Cacao

HURT/COMFORT | ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP (?)

no beta we die like dark cacaos respect for his son, spoilers for White Lily's backstory + Episodes 13-14, cookies are written as humans with humanoid appearances!

Set during the Golden Cheese Episode; in which the ancients have nothing to do but prepare and discuss for the battle ahead at the odyssey. But Dark Cacao feels a old, stinging ache. It's familiar, and it's dangerous.

gay ancient cookies with trauma >>>

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TW: PTSD symptoms & brief suicidal thoughts

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"Your eyes falter, my old friend."

Dark Cacao feels terribly sweet and bitter at those words. It brings back memories, nightmares and hallucinations- all simultaneously and yet not at all, perhaps even the same thing? The king cannot tell. Trapped in pain of his own doing, the man forgot how to breath in a endless sea of loneliness. Before he knew it, he had neglected his son, the only son he'd ever have, the only son he'd ever love.

So to hear Pure Vanilla speak like they weren't married once upon a time? Formalities had to be kept, yes, but that was- that was absurd. Cacao grimaced and glared at his comrade. "Friend?" He spoke harshly, "No one else is here." With that, he sternly placed his mug down on the table. It clinked loudly in the silence. Everyone else had left.

Yet another meeting without any news. Why would that arrogant- Clotted Cream, the king remembers to be civilised- call a meeting without anything to discuss? It was like eating without hunger. "I...What do you mean?" Pure Vanilla's eyebrows knitted as his smile seemed to turn downwards, but he tried to keep his expression neutral. It failed.

Embarrassed... There wasn't any other way to describe that bitter feeling rising in him, a flame Dark Cacao desperately fought to put out. He only felt this around Vanilla. Not anyone else. He liked talking and painting with White Lily, and he enjoyed debating with Golden Cheese, even sometimes drank with Hollyberry.

Yet, there was something special about his closest friend. No, his husband. But was he anymore? Did Vanilla somehow forget their time spent together? The long hours spent talking, or sometimes in complete silence with each other's comforting company, the days that they spent writing letters to each other, showing excitement uncharacteristic of their calm demeanor when they finally reunited, and even the way Pure Vanilla would just somehow know when Cacao couldn't handle that overbearing weight of guilt?

He always knew. Pure Vanilla had to.

...Surely that didn't change?

The silence grew louder with each second. Pure Vanilla took a step back. Dark Cacao stood, trying not to cry. Why would he? He's a king, an ancient, blessed with Soul Jam and almost too loyal soldiers. So why is it that he sometimes wants to lose? Why does he think, At least it'd be honorable this way, when he narrowly avoids death in a battle?

An afterlife, or a hope of one perhaps? The king snorts self deprecatingly, something only expressed around Pure Vanilla. But this time, the healer clutches his staff tighter like he's uncomfortable. Dark Cacao eyes the action, and that flame of embarrassment slowly turns to anger, changing hues of color in unison with their conversation, "Pure Vanilla- no, Vanilla." He dropped the formalities. Like he always did with his husband. It wasn't like it was new. He never called Pure Vanilla his full name, but instead loving names. Darling, dear, my love, my dear, sometimes honey on rare occasions.

And before the war, Pure Vanilla had always returned those pet names. Now he stood befuddled. Like he actually forgot. But he looked too aware to not know. "Likewise, Cacao... I really don't-"

"Do you remember our first kiss?" Vanilla clamps his mouth shut, visibly swallowing a lump in his throat down.

But he opens his eyes, his staff closes its, and now Cacao can see there are tears in the heterochromic eyes he once stared into for hours. "Yes." Vanilla's voice is warbling, dangerously so, "At your kingdom. There was a blizzard, you let me in and told me to warm myself. I got distracted by the cookies around me I wanted to help, and you kissed me while telling me to focus on myself because my lips were so cold."

Cacao nodded, jaw tightening as he felt more of his composure leave him. You remember. Why are you acting like you don't? "And our wedding?" He asks, "What makes you act as though that didn't happen?" It didn't sound like a question when Cacao worded it so gruffly, especially when there was a tinge of anger hiding pain in his voice.

Pure Vanilla takes a step forward, looking up into Cacao's eyes as he trailed his gaze over the scars Cacao had visible on his neck. His armor concealed everything else, but Pure Vanilla knew he could still outline Cacao's figure in his sleep. And he did for some time. "I... It's been hundreds of years..."

A pitiful excuse. How could that be the only reason? Much more than time had failed to keep them apart. "If you don't love me any longer, say it."

Pure Vanilla's frown deepens, and he raises a hand to Dark Cacao's cheek. "Dark Cacao-"

"Say it!"

Despite the fact Cacao had raised his voice, he made no move to take away the nice, comforting hand that caressed the side of his face. "I do love you. I never stopped, my... my dear." Vanilla's eyes break eye contact with that, as though there was something wrong with what he'd said.

Cacao feels his lungs tighten and it gets harder to breathe. Look at me. Don't forget me. Don't leave me again and make me think you're dead or worse. "Why do you hesitate?" His deep voice reverberates with each syllable, trying desperately to understand. He never did understand Pure Vanilla.

The healer would talk about how his best friend and their comrade, White Lily, would never talk to anyone. Yet he'd run off and do the same. Sometimes it sparked fights in their youth, but Cacao chose to trust Vanilla even when he had no idea what the in the-witch's-oven his lover could possibly be doing. But it had been years.

Does that same trust still lie in Cacao's heart? Frost corroded it, sorrow chipped at his joy like icy daggers, loneliness came like a wave that crashed over Dark Cacao and made him stumble and break. How could someone as terribly bitter as he love such a passionate healer? How could he trust when his friends had been thought to be dead for years? Golden Cheese didn't even bother writing a letter, apparently her kingdom was doing just fine. Hollyberry had been in hiding, but why didn't she ever come to him?

He didn't understand, he never could. Why things happened the way they did. Just one visit, one sign that his friends still breathed for another day... Just one, and it would've kept the king going without his newfound bitterness.

But the sign, the visit, it never came. A letter did, years and years later, after Cacao has grown oh so close to impaling himself on the same blade he once carried proudly. A shameful, weak thing to do that he swears he'd never act upon, and that they're just thoughts... But are they really?

Did Vanilla understand and share in that same sorrow?

"Hesitate? No, I..." Pure Vanilla looks back to Cacao's face, his sharp jawline, hair that has grown somewhat thinned and unkempt, eyes that seemed to never once lose sight of the battlefield, despite the freezing blizzards. The same eyes that would crinkle at the edges when he denied being happy, when he was with Vanilla, or drinking with Hollyberry. His eyes always gave away how much the king loved his closest allies.

The healer gulps. "You still love me... Even though I...?"

"Even though you what?"

A sigh leaves him, like it was obvious what he'd done. "I know it's silly, but I was the one responsible for all that death. I didn't reach out enough to White Lily. Had I, maybe things would be different," He rambles, oblivious to the look on Cacao's face, the kind of look that said, 'What are you talking about' without a single thing leaving his lips, "I'm so sorry." Tears begin to fall down Pure Vanilla's cheeks as his lips quivered, sputtering out words but they all blended together, "I knew instantly when I saw you what I'd done, I just- I can't believe that everyone, everything crumbled because I-"

"Pure Vanilla!" Cacao shouts, interjecting the other's spiral, "What on Earth-bread are you saying?" His words fell from a shout to a quiet whisper, as if hushing a secret. Comforting never was Cacao's strong suit, but even so here his lover cried, blaming himself of all people for the downfall of thousands.

It had to be the absolute dumbest thing Cacao had seen.

The healer widens his eyes whilst staring at Dark Cacao's expression. Despite being blind, he still managed to make out things close to his vision without his staff. Cacao calms himself. Forcefully. Then his eyes trail downwards to Vanilla, their height difference just a few inches, locking eyes with one another. "It was never your fault. How could it be? One kingdom is almost too big for one cookie, let alone the world. Expecting yourself to live up to those expectations..." Cacao shook his head, "No one else will blame you for what you will blame yourself over."

Pure Vanilla laughed sadly, already wiping away evidence of his tears with his offhand's sleeve, "Thank you." He whispers, resting his staff against the wall to cup Dark Cacao's face with both hands.. Hands that are calloused from war, fingers long and skinny with scars covering each and every one. Just like the rest of the ancients.

He leans in, and their lips meet for the first time in hundreds of years. Despite the pain, suffering, sorrow and guilt...

Despite it all, there is a reunion.

There is hope of a everlasting love.

FIN.

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Thanks for reading! Comments are highly appreciated. My requests are open, but keep in mind I reserve the right to decline requests that make me uncomfortable. ♡

TO BE CROSSPOSTED ON AO3 UNDER THE ACCOUNT AZRAELCARES122

REPOSTS APPRECIATED ♡

#purecacao #pure vanilla x dark cacao #hurt/comfort #fanfic #cookie run kingdom

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moeitsu · 1 month

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast

Summary: Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

TW: Brief mention of suicide, body image issues, eating disorder. Period typical racism.

A/N: Another long one, ~8k words. The end had me giggling and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy! Comments and criticism are always welcome :)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig **please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Kate and I met this strange young bastard, Beau, and his forbidden love Penelope. Poor kids are just lookin’ for freedom but they’re stuck in some old family feud they ain’t even a part of. We delivered some letters for them, Kate insisted on it. I gave her grief about it at first, but she was determined to go out of her way for these kids. Woman’s got a heart of gold.

Somehow, I ended up marching as a suffragette, the looks of loathing on the face of the locals amused me. I don’t know much about good causes, but I enjoyed my little experience riding alongside them. Kate showed me there’s more than one path, she chose to do the right thing and we still managed to gather some useful information.

She makes my head dizzy sometimes, this woman. Came right out and asked to kiss me again! I choked up bad. She’s always speaking her mind, like she ain’t afraid of nothing. I love that about her. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn’t. I just can not do that to her. She’s been through too much already, and she deserves a good man.

And I don’t deserve that kinda happiness.

Arthur woke the next morning with a heavy weight on his chest, the remnants of a sleepless night etched into the lines of his weary face. Kate's tender words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, refusing to fade with the dawn. No one had spoken to him with such honesty and vulnerability in ages, and Arthur couldn't shake the memory of disappointment flickering in Kate's eyes when he couldn't reciprocate her feelings. As much as his heart longed to kiss and hold her again.

As he lay there, Arthur's thoughts drifted back to Mary, the woman he once loved. He recalled the night he proposed to her, the anticipation heavy in the air, only to be met with the sting of rejection. Mary wanted him to leave behind his life of danger, to embrace a quieter existence with her, far from the chaos of the gang. Arthur understood her desire for simplicity, but he couldn't abandon the gang; the family that needed him. He pleaded with Mary to join him, but she refused, unwilling to sever ties with her own family, especially her younger brother.

Now, years later, Arthur felt he had strayed too far down a path of darkness to ever deserve happiness again. The memory of Mary's rejection lingered as a painful reminder of his inability to change, to be the man she needed. He believed himself beyond redemption, resigned to a life devoid of the joy he once craved.

To his surprise, Kate appeared unfazed by Arthur's refusal the previous night. She greeted him in the morning with her usual warmth, as if their conversation had not left a lingering tension between them. They shared breakfast together, engaging in easy conversation that helped ease some of the weight on Arthur's shoulders. Kate mentioned that she had already discussed their findings with Hosea, who wanted to meet with Arthur later that evening regarding a potential job at the Braithwaite estate.

Her calm demeanor brought Arthur a sense of comfort amid his inner turmoil. As they finished their meal, Kate gracefully excused herself to resume her tasks with the other girls. She promised to join him for dinner as usual, maintaining their routine without skipping a beat. Arthur watched her go about her duties with a mixture of admiration and gratitude. Despite his fears of pushing her away, Kate seemed to understand. And didn’t think ill of him for it.

As the day unfolded, Arthur found himself immersed in a job orchestrated by Uncle—an opportunity to stage a simple yet lucrative payroll robbery. He teamed up with Charles and together they executed the heist with precision. The stagecoach robbery went off without a hitch, yielding a substantial sum that brought a brief sense of satisfaction to Arthur, feeling like a proper thief he was raised to be.

As the sun began its descent, Arthur sought out Hosea near the hidden stash of stolen moonshine. He detailed his failed attempt to sell back the stolen moonshine to the Braithwaites. Hosea recounted how they had approached the Braithwaite matriarch with an offer, only to be met with a cold rejection. The old woman haughtily declared that they deserved no reward for returning what she considered rightfully hers. Instead, in a spiteful act of retribution, she offered a meager ten dollars to distribute the moonshine for free at Mr. Gray's saloon.

Arthur was puzzled by the Braithwaite's response. Hosea clarified that it was a calculated move—a means of exacting revenge on the Grays and the town drunks. By turning the intoxicated patrons into even greater fools for the night, the Braithwaites hoped to incite chaos and leave Sheriff Gray to deal with the ensuing fallout.

Amidst the chaos of the moonshine-fueled night at Mr. Gray's saloon, Arthur assumed his familiar role as "Fenton," a persona he had adopted in previous schemes alongside Hosea. The act required him to play the part of Hosea’s younger idiot brother, who also happened to be mute. His only job was keeping glasses filled without uttering a single word. Though Arthur despised the charade, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of their antics—the lengths they would go to for a successful heist.

Draped in the guise of Fenton, Arthur navigated the rowdy patrons, handing out moonshine liberally as the atmosphere inside the saloon grew increasingly raucous. The scene was a stark reminder of earlier days, when he and Hosea were younger and life seemed simpler, despite the risks they took.

As the night wore on, the situation escalated when Sheriff Gray himself appeared, prompting Hosea and Arthur to spring into action. Shots rang out, echoing through the old saloon as lawmen pursued them. With practiced ease, they slipped through the back door, disappearing into the shadows and swiftly making their way to the waiting wagon. In the chaos that ensued, Arthur expertly handled their pursuers while Hosea skillfully guided the reins.

A small shootout erupted as the Grays chased them through the winding back roads and fields leading out of Rhodes. Arthur remained focused, taking down their adversaries while Hosea expertly navigated the terrain. The tension was palpable, the thrill of the night's escapade mingling with the danger of their flight.

Approaching the train tracks, Arthur spotted a train. With precise timing, they crossed just as the locomotive barreled through, cutting off their pursuers. The lawmen were left stranded on the other side, unable to follow.

Once they were safely beyond reach, away from the danger that had pursued them, laughter erupted between Arthur and Hosea. It was a release of pent-up tension, the adrenaline-fueled joy of a successful escape mingling with the shared camaraderie of outlaws.

“Remind me to never take up a career in…what was it? Bartending,” Arthur chuckled, glancing back at the remaining clinking bottles they were unable to distribute.

“I didn’t know they’d throw so much of a fuss over booze, this town is odd,” Hosea answered, shaking his head as he cracked the reins of the wagon.

Arthur furrowed his brow, considering the surplus moonshine. “What should we do with all the shine we still have left?”

Hosea’s expression turned grim. “That miserable Braithewaite woman wants us to burn the Grays' tobacco fields with it, I was hoping you and Sean could handle that tomorrow night.”

“Damn, ain’t that makin’ a bit too much noise? I thought we were tryin’ to lay low in all this. These fellas may be drunks and racists, but they ain’t afraid to kill, you saw them back there,” Arthur expressed his concern.

Hosea sighed, revealing a hint of hesitation. “Dutch thinks there's money in this somewhere. His plan is to get them all riled up on each other and use that as an opportunity to slip in and rob ‘em.”

Arthur fell silent, contemplating the dangerous path they were treading by getting involved in a longstanding blood feud. “Things could get real ugly, Hosea. Do you really think one of these families is sitting on a pile of money?”

“Can’t say. But the cash box is getting full again, Arthur. We’ve been doing well on making money. With just a bit more cash, we’ll be out of here,” Hosea replied, injecting a note of hope into the conversation. Sensing Arthur's unease, he changed the subject. “Kate told me about your adventures yesterday. How are things going between you two?”

As their wagon rattled down the road, illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon, Arthur felt a sense of comfort settle over him. He glanced over at Hosea, his trusted father figure, and knew that he could confide in him about anything. The old man had a way of understanding Arthur's thoughts and feelings without needing them spelled out.

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing his palms together nervously, the words weighing heavily on his mind. It wouldn't escape Hosea's notice that Arthur was quite sweet on Kate. After all, it had been Hosea's idea to pair them up for the day, hoping to give Arthur a chance to spend time with her away from the group.

“I kissed her the other night, when she was singin’ a lullaby for Jack,” Arthur began, the words spilling out into the night air like a secret long kept.“She… she wanted to kiss me again today and, I really wanted to, but I had to let her down easy,” He glanced over at Hosea, seeking some semblance of understanding in the old man's eyes.

Hosea raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You kissed her and ditched her? I thought I raised you better, son,” he teased, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

Arthur chuckled, though there was a tinge of self-deprecation in his amusement. “I know, I’m dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Hosea patted Arthur's shoulder reassuringly, his touch grounding. “You may be good at playing an idiot like Fenton,” he remarked, referencing their recent job, “but you’re a smart boy. What harm could come if you just let it happen and see where it takes you?”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back in the seat, his gaze drifting up to the blinking stars above, memories of Kate’s confession flooding his thoughts. “I just don’t wanna hurt her. And… I don’t wanna feel that kinda hurt again.”

Nodding in understanding, Hosea's expression softened with a paternal concern for the young cowboy. “I’m not gonna live forever, son. I’d just like to see you be happy with someone before I go.”

“I was happy once. I had a woman who loved me, and she left me because I couldn’t change for her.” Arthur admitted, his voice giving away the deep sorrow he still harbored about his young love.

“Mary was a good woman, I did like her. You were both so young and naive, still navigating your own lives,” Hosea mused, his voice carrying the weight of hindsight. His gaze softened with memories. “But I don’t think she was the right one for you. She couldn’t tame that wild heart of yours.”

Arthur listened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the wagon jostling over uneven terrain. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even tame it myself,” he confessed, his tone tinged with resignation.

Hosea's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. “That's why you need someone strong enough to stand in the ring with you,” he remarked, his voice brimming with wisdom, “and face down the beast with a heart just as wild.”

Arthur nodded slowly, the words sinking in like stones dropped into a still pond. He mulled over Hosea's advice, feeling the weight of his own heart's desires. The night enveloped them in a cocoon of shared understanding, the stars above bearing witness to their quiet contemplation.

Arthur’s confession hung heavy in the air, his words weighed down by the burden of his past. “Once she knows what I’ve done, I don’t think she can forgive me for it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, like a man confessing his sins.

Hosea let out a light scoff, his eyes bright with a hint of amusement. “Son, your bounty has been posted in almost every town in the west,” he remarked wryly. “She knows we’re outlaws, I think she’s probably aware you’ve killed some folk.”

Shaking his head slowly, Arthur gathered his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead. “No, no it ain’t that,” he muttered, his words heavy with hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Kate told me ‘bout her family, how they all passed from accidents or disease. She even had to bury her own daughter. I just…” His voice trailed off, grappling with the weight of his own truth. “I just don’t know how to tell her about my own. About my son, Isaac. Or Eliza.”

Hosea leaned back against the wagon’s seat, his expression thoughtful. “What’s stopping you from telling her? That’s something you two have in common,” he pointed out gently.

“Because I–I can’t tell her I’m the reason they’re dead,” Arthur confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “Family means so much to her, she’d never forgive me for throwing it away.”

The old man regarded Arthur with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Son, if you’re so worried about her turning the other cheek on you, I think you need to tell her the truth,” Hosea advised, his tone earnest. “She’s going to find out eventually, and you know she’s a smart woman. She understands what you are and still chooses to be by your side. And I’d be surprised if she draws the line at something that happened in the past. You're too hard on yourself, Arthur. What happened to Eliza and Isaac was terrible, but it was not your fault.”

Arthur rarely spoke about his son, Isaac, even with Hosea, his closest confidant. The weight of their deaths bore heavily on his heart, like an anchor dragging him into the depths of guilt and regret. Isaac's passing had transformed Arthur into a different man, one hardened by grief and the burden of responsibility.

Hosea had witnessed the change in Arthur firsthand. Before the tragedy that befell Eliza and Isaac, Arthur was more carefree, with a spark of youthful innocence in his eyes. But as time wore on, a darkness crept into his demeanor, a shadow that never quite lifted. He carried their deaths like a scar, a permanent mark etched upon his soul.

In moments of vulnerability, Arthur would let slip glimpses of his sorrow, revealing the cracks in his stoic facade. He blamed himself for their deaths, convinced that if he had been a better man, a different man, things might have turned out differently. It was a burden he carried alone, tucked away behind layers of bravado and hardened resolve.

Hosea understood the depth of Arthur's pain, but he also recognized the resilience that lay beneath. Arthur's reluctance to share his grief spoke volumes about the depth of his sorrow. It was a wound that time could not heal, a wound that had shaped the man Arthur had become.

As the wagon turned down the familiar winding road that led to their camp, the night's chorus surrounded them with the faint hum of a crackling fire and the warm glow as it cast dancing shadows across the clearing.

Arthur broke the moment of silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I should’ve been there for them, Pa," he confessed, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the trees passing by.

Hosea sighed, the years etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, son, but life has a way of throwing us off course, even when we try our best," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom earned through hardship. "This world can be cruel, as you well know."

"I can’t be a bad man and expect good things like Kate to happen to me. It just don’t work that way," Arthur continued, his words laced with self-doubt.

Hosea placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder, his touch a welcome comfort. "Kate sees something good in you, son," his tone was gentle yet firm. "Maybe it's time you started seeing it too."

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Kate scrubbed diligently, the soap creating frothy suds as she ran the bar along the stretched cotton over the washboard. She sat on a small stool in the shade beneath a sprawling tree, her trousers dotted with darkened spots from the splashing water. The air was heavy with heat, but the coolness of the water in the small washtub offered a brief respite. With each steady motion, her fingers became slightly more pruned from the repeated immersion.

Beside her, Mary-Beth was busy ringing out the soapy cloth and dipping it into a clean bucket, the rhythmic process mirroring Kate's own. The girls found solace in their shared task, engaged in easy conversation to while away the chore.

“So,” Kate began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I saw you talking to Kieran the other day. Want to spill the beans on what’s really going on there?” She nudged Mary-Beth playfully with her knee.

The young girl looked down, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as she tried to hide her face from Kate's teasing gaze. “He was just curious about the book I was reading, that’s all,” she admitted bashfully, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Kate knew Mary-Beth's romantic tendencies well. From the moment they met, it was clear that she had a penchant for love affairs and romantic tales—her nose buried in romance novels and dreams of penning her own someday.

“That’s all?” Kate teased, a playful glint in her eye. “I see you watching him groom those horses every day. Somebody's got eyes for the O’Driscoll boy,” she added, splashing a bit of water in jest.

Mary-Beth retaliated with a laugh, “He ain’t an O’Driscoll!” Her grin gave away any attempt at concealing her feelings. She glanced over towards the horses, and Kate followed her gaze to where Kieran Duffy was tending to the animals. “He’s been talkin’ to me a lot recently. I just think he’s sweet.”

Kate's eyes lingered on the scene, noticing Lenny and Javier saddling their horses nearby, while John caught her gaze as he approached them.

Just as Kate was about to respond, John called out to her, “Kate! You busy right now?”

She looked up, eyes squinting as the sun glowed behind his frame. She gestured with open palms towards the wash bin. “You need somethin’?” she asked.

John tipped his hat to Mary-Beth, who waved politely in return. “We’re heading out to the Braithwaite manor to check out some horses. Thought you might wanna come,” he explained, nodding back to where Lenny and Javier were waiting.

Kate chuckled, her tone lighthearted. “You plan on stealing them or something?”

John crossed his arms casually, “well, you know,” he trailed, “if the opportunity presents itself.” Not bothering to hide their dubious intentions. Kate has to remind herself sometimes that she is running with outlaws. For them, a job doesn't mean checking out the goods, it means stealing goods.

He cleared his throat and explained the situation seriously, “some fella from the Gray family told us he’d pay to have their horses stolen. Also mentioned they go for $1000 a piece.”

Kate raised a brow of suspicion, “and you believe him?”

John only shrugged, “it's worth looking into.”

She waved him off with a touch of concern, “I don’t want no trouble John, I’m sure you boys will manage fine without me.”

John persisted, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be no trouble at all. We’ll be in and out, they won’t even know we’re there,” he said, adding an enticing detail, “word is they got some pretty nice gypsy horses. Real purebreds too.”

Kate found herself caught in the web of temptation. Stealing horses was not something she relished, but the promise of seeing such a purebred up close was alluring. If they pulled it off successfully, she knew the money would help the gang alot. She figured it wouldn't be so bad to help them in one little heist.

As if Mary-Beth could sense her conflicting ideas, she interrupted the silence, "I can finish up here, Kate. You should go. They'll have a better chance of pulling it off with you." She winked knowingly, seeming to support Kate's unspoken decision.

She made up her mind, fixing John with a pointed look. "No trouble," she repeated firmly, more as a command than a question.

"No trouble," John assured her with a nod of understanding.

Kate wiped her damp arms across her shirt, bidding Mary-Beth farewell and promising to catch up with her later. As she approached her midnight mare, the horse whinnied in recognition, sensing the upcoming adventure. Javier and Lenny greeted her from their saddles, both looking ready for action.

Javier tipped his hat with a charming smile. "Nice of you to join us, cariño," he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Kate swiftly mounted her horse, adjusting herself in the saddle. "You boys better hope this goes smoothly," she remarked with a playful smirk, her eyes scanning the group with a hint of caution.

Lenny rode his stallion closer to Kate's, "I gotta say, having you with us doubles our luck, don't you think?" he replied, his tone light-hearted but with an underlying sense of confidence.

She smiled fondly. Together the four of them took off down the lush green path and onto the dirt road. Kate was glad for the invitation, it made her feel good that the gang trusted her enough to include her in such tasks, that they were confident in her ability to work alongside them. She felt a new sense of trust among them, and camaraderie. She felt like she was becoming a real member, and not just some lone traveler like she had been nearly a month ago.

The journey to the Braithwaite manor was uneventful, the cool breeze of the afternoon air was refreshing against their skin as they rode. As they arrived at the manor from the south side, away from the prying gaze of the property guards. The grand estate loomed before them, a testament to the family's wealth and power. They dismounted their horses in a secluded spot, ensuring they wouldn't draw too much attention.

Kate's mind wandered briefly, wondering if Penelope would be out in her gazebo enjoying the afternoon sun.

John's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone matter-of-fact as he laid out the plan. "Let's keep this nice and easy. No need to rush. We're here on behalf of a buyer, looking to make a significant investment," he explained as they followed him toward the barn.

Outside the stable doors, a worker paused in his tasks, eyeing them with suspicion. "Can I help you fellas?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I hope so," John replied amiably, trying to appear non-threatening. "Heard you got some horses?"

"We always got horses," the man responded gruffly.

"Fine horses, I mean," John clarified.

The worker's expression soured, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the group. "I don't know whatchu’ talkin' 'bout, friend. Why don't you take that hoyden wench, yer greaser buddy, and his darkie friend and get off the property ‘fore I blow your face off," he retorted, spitting at their feet.

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise at the man's unabashed racism and arrogance toward strangers. Suddenly understanding Tilly’s hesitation about being so far south. Javier quickly raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, take it easy there, amigo," he interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

John remained unfazed by the man's hostility. "Come on now, partner. We're just looking to do some business. Inquire about a purchase," he persisted.

The worker let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, follow me, Scarface," he grumbled, the insults never ceasing.

The ranch hand, ever welcoming, led them into the barn, his voice a steady stream of information about the horses—names, breeds, and abilities. She noticed they were not the purebreds John had heard rumors about. Still beautiful, strong horses nonetheless.

Kate observed John and Javier exchanging a look as they walked deeper into the dimly lit space. When the man paused to pet a horse, John subtly motioned to Javier, who deftly moved behind the unsuspecting worker.

Meanwhile, Lenny smoothly interjected with feigned interest. "Wow, look at the balls on that one," he chuckled, pointing in another direction. The ranch hand followed his gaze, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

With his back turned, Javier seized the opportunity, drawing his pistol from his belt. "Greaser, huh?" he muttered bitterly before striking the bottom of the iron against the man's head, knocking him out instantly. John and Javier wasted no time, swiftly moving the unconscious body to a hidden spot while Lenny began unlocking the stable gates.

Kate stood in stunned silence for a moment, her voice barely audible as she tried to suppress her surprise. "What happened to nice and easy?" she muttered.

Her comment elicited a chuckle from Lenny, who had already mounted one of the horses. "Can't get any easier than this. Let’s try to get 'em out of here without drawing too much attention," he replied casually.

Despite her swirling thoughts and unease, Kate pushed her concerns aside and mounted one of the horses. Following the three bandits out of the barn, she joined them as they sped off through the sprawling property, the rush of adrenaline mixing with a sense of trepidation.

The thundering hooves of their stolen horses echoed through the property. Behind them, shouts and the pounding of boots indicated that their presence had been discovered. Several ranch hands emerged from the buildings, brandishing rifles and shouting warnings.

John, Kate, Javier, and Lenny spurred their horses into a full gallop, kicking up dust and dirt as they raced across the open fields. The pursuing ranch hands fired off a few rounds in their direction, but the distance and the speed of their mounts made accurate shooting difficult.

As they reached the fence at the edge of the property, they leapt over the barrier. The group plunged into a dense thicket of trees, the branches clawing at their faces and clothes. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them as the guards were forced to slow down and eventually give up the chase. They whistled loudly, and soon their own horses caught up and began to follow in tow.

Javier led the way as they made their way through the landscape to find the supposed buyers at Clemens Cove.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The encounter with the buyers proved to be an intriguing yet unsettling experience. They were met by a pair of brothers who seemed to operate in uncanny harmony, sometimes speaking in unison and shrouding their business with secrecy. Details about their clientele and operations were kept hidden, with only a vague promise that one of them would be available for future dealings, if they wished to become business partners.

During the negotiation, one of the brothers made a direct offer to purchase Kate’s prized black Hungarian outright, offering her a substantial sum. However, Kate politely declined without hesitation. Her bond with the mare ran deep, and no amount of money could sway her decision to part with her cherished companion.

The brothers’ offer of 50 cents on the dollar for the stolen horses was not quite what John had anticipated, but it still amounted to a respectable deal given the circumstances.

After concluding their business at Clemens Cove, the posse set off back towards the rolling plains. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm and serene glow over the lush green hills. Their horses trotted steadily along the trail as the landscape unfolded around them, painted in hues of amber and gold, as they made their way back to camp.

"Hoyden wench…" Kate echoed with a chuckle, mimicking the ranch hand's harsh drawl. "I've been called a lot of things, but that sure is a first."

Javier, riding alongside her, piped up from the saddle, his expression puzzled. "What the hell does that mean, anyway?"

Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. " 'Wench' was a term used by slavers for black women. And 'hoyden' means she's too much of a 'tomboy’,'' he explained.

"Well, I can understand the 'tomboy' part, but she's not even—"

"Doesn't matter, amigo," John interjected, his tone matter-of-fact. "If ya skin ain't as white as a baby's bottom, it's all the same to them."

Kate nodded in agreement, her thoughts drifting back to the locals she had observed while running letters with Arthur. Witnessing their prejudice up close and personal was a stark reminder of the challenges faced by Lenny and Tilly in this region. As a woman of Italian descent, her skin carried a honey-brown hue, bronzed by the Lemoyne sun. Even this slight difference posed a threat to the narrow-minded locals, a reality that churned her stomach with discomfort.

"I'm ‘bout ready to get the hell out of dodge," Lenny added, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Speakin’ of racist hillbillies, Javier and I are heading out to Shady Belle. Got a tip there's some raiders sittin’ on guns and ammo. You guys want in?" He turned to John and Kate with a casual invitation.

Kate shook her head, "thanks Lenny, but I think I'll pass this time."

John chimed in with a polite refusal. "As much as I love killing racists, I gotta get back to Abigail for dinner."

Javier and Lenny exchanged nods of understanding. "No worries, compadres," Javier replied. "We'll catch up with you later."

As they bid farewell, Kate and John veered onto the familiar dirt path that led back to Clemens Point.

The gentle melody of song birds and the steady pounding of hooves on the dry soil filled the atmosphere. Before they could approach the camp, John's voice broke the peaceful ambiance.

"Hey, I know I sound stupid for saying this, but thank you for being a friend to Abigail. All of this has been really hard on her," he explained, his tone earnest and reflective. He glanced ahead, his thoughts drifting to his woman back at camp. "I know it may not look like it, but I'm trying—I'm working on being the kind of father she wants me to be and the husband she needs."

Kate gave him a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “You don't sound stupid, John. This life ain’t easy for nobody, especially when there's a child in the mix.” She was slightly surprised to hear him open up to her.

John sighed, his expression heavy with regret. “Still, I know you and I ain’t all that close, but, I did somethin’ pretty bad. I worry she might never forgive me for it.”

With a sideways glance, Kate nodded reluctantly. “Yeahhh, Abigail already told me ‘bout all that.”

“Shit, she did?” John's eyes widened in surprise.

She couldn't help but chuckle, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Oh yeah, she’s told me everything John.” Abigail didn't babble to Kate just for the sake of gossip; she understood that Abigail needed someone to confide in, someone to listen and truly hear her. She needed to feel seen, heard, and understood. Especially in times like these.

“Well goddamn, now I feel like a proper dumbass.”

“She still loves you, John, and your boy does too. But love doesn’t come for free—it takes a lot of effort. Keep pushin’ to be a better man, she sees your effort. I promise you.” Kate's words were gentle yet firm,

"Thanks, Kate. Say, you’ve been ridin’ with us for a while now. You think you’re stickin’ ‘round for the long haul?” John asked, his tone curious.

Kate shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say for certain. But for now, that’s the plan. Never thought I’d be workin’ with outlaws, but I guess it’s sometimes kinda fun,” she replied, hinting at their recent endeavor. Though petty horse theft was one thing, running from the law for murder was another.

“I noticed you and Arthur get along pretty well. He the reason you're stayin’ put?” John probed further. No doubt trying to get a grasp on his brother's affairs.

“Arthur’s a bit of a mystery to me. But we’re just friends, is all,” Kate answered, her tone casual yet guarded. She knew things between her and Arthur were only just beginning, but it was still undoubtedly complicated. The fact that some of the members had taken notice of their relationship sparked a tinge of worry.

“You’re a tough woman to read sometimes,” he smirked, the scar on his cheek crinkled slightly. “Well, whatever the case. Take care of yourself, ya hear?” He expressed a genuine smile as he rode ahead back into camp.

Kate followed behind, the aroma of Pearson’s signature stew filling her lungs with its savory fragrance. She left Lorena to graze peacefully among her own four-legged companions and headed toward the chuck wagon, eager to enjoy a well-earned meal after a day filled with adventure. The camp was alive with the usual sounds—crackling fire, distant chatter, and the occasional whinny of horses—creating a familiar and comforting backdrop to the evening.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur returned to camp under the blanket of stars, the world seemed silent except for the faint rustle of night creatures and the distant crackle of a dying fire. He dismounted his mare with practiced quiet, the shadows of night his ally in avoiding unwanted company.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his frustration palpable in the tight set of his jaw and the weariness etched in his movements. Tonight, he had no patience for idle chatter or bullshit from the guys. Especially the ones awake at this hour.

Burning the tobacco fields with Sean had proven to be no easy task. Though never any job orchestrated by Dutch ever was. It was nights like these where Arthur questioned when all the shooting and robbing would end. What the point of it all was.

Behind his tent, the open end of the wagon served as a makeshift wall. Arthur rummaged through crates, finding what he needed—a needle, thread, alcohol, and cloth. Wincing as he prodded the bullet graze just under his armpit.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” he mumbled to himself.

Getting shot had never been part of Arthur's plan on any job. He prided himself on his quick draw and accuracy, always aiming to fire first and hit his mark before danger could strike him. But shooting under cover of night, navigating through a blazing tobacco field while avoiding being burned alive—such challenges could make even the finest gunslinger stumble.

The guards had descended upon them as soon as the smoke rose, but Sean had urged them to press on, insisting they keep pouring the moonshine without hesitation. Arthur couldn't help but worry that the young Irishman's ambition might one day lead him into an early grave.

Surprisingly, the only injury Arthur had sustained was a bullet graze, still needing a few stitches but nothing life-threatening. Meanwhile, Sean had returned unscathed, already regaling their escapade around the campfire with a bottle in hand.

Under the cool night air, Arthur peeled off his sweat-dampened shirt, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body. The lantern's dim glow cast shadows, highlighting the glistening of sweat on his chest and stomach.

He dipped the cloth into the alcohol, its sharp scent biting into his senses. As he attempted to clean the wound tucked under his arm, frustration crept in. The injury was beyond his line of sight, a challenge exacerbated by his own size.

Placing one arm against the side of the wagon for support, Arthur tried again, unaware of Kate's quiet approach behind him amidst the backdrop of the night's stillness.

“Need some help there, big guy?” Kate's voice was endearing, soft, almost motherly. The tone made Arthur's knees weak and his face grow warm.

Startled, Arthur nearly leapt out of his skin, quickly lowering his arm and stepping back, almost out of the lamplight. The nickname, though used innocently, stirred something akin to shame in his belly.

"What're you doin' up?" Arthur asked, attempting to appear unbothered.

Kate shrugged, her demeanor relaxed. "Couldn’t sleep. I was brushing Lorena when I saw you come in. Figured I’d say hi," she explained. "You want some help with that?" She gestured to where small trickles of blood traced down his side, her eyes lingering slowly over his bare torso.

If it weren’t for the cover of night, Kate would have seen the deep blush that crept up to his ears. "I think I’ll be alright," Arthur managed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Kate took a step closer, her gaze shifting to his shirt hanging from the side of the wagon, a round, deep red stain contrasting against its usual pale blue.

"Well, it sure don't look alright," she noted, her eyes returning to his side. "Tough spot to reach too."

Arthur's breath quickened. "I’m fine, don’t worry 'bout me," he replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.

Kate only brushed him off with a playful wave of her arm, “oh quit it! You stitched me up before, let me return the favor.” Before Arthur could react she placed a gentle hand on his bicep, “here, turn around.” She said quietly.

He complied, turning his back to her. His body froze when her fingers returned with the wet alcohol cloth. Barely noticing the sting, as her hands alone felt like fire against his cold skin. Her warmth is intoxicating.

A moment's silence embraced them, and Arthur prayed she couldn’t hear the beat of his heart as it raced in his chest.

Her words startled him from his thoughts, “see, ain’t so bad,” her tone soft like she was comforting a child. “Why’d ya hesitate?” A hint of curiosity and concern filled her voice from behind him.

Arthur lowered his head slightly, “I um, well I know I ain’t much to look at.” He mumbled.

Kate continued to clean his wound tenderly, “what do you mean by that?”

He let out a deep sigh, there was no point in being dishonest with her, “I…I just don’t like folk seein’ me without a shirt. I ain’t what I used to be. I’m gettin’ old, gettin’ heavy too.” His hand subconsciously rubbed over his belly.

Arthur's weight was his biggest insecurity, a constant reminder of his struggles and the pain he carried. Years had passed since Eliza and Isaac's deaths, but part of him had withered away back then. The guilt had gnawed at him, devouring his spirit day by day. He sought solace in alcohol, drowning himself in the numbness it offered. His relationship with food became a twisted dance of indulgence and deprivation.

Some days, he ate to fill the emptiness inside, seeking comfort in the fleeting sensation of fullness. Other days, food seemed an enemy, a symbol of his lack of control. He despised his belly, the way it was soft and curved, a stark contrast to the man he once knew in the mirror. His size served as a relentless reminder of his deepest failure, haunting him with each glance.

Each morning he woke, Arthur grappled with the weight of existence. The world, in its merciless ways, kept him breathing, a living monument to his own remorse. He often wondered if the world would be better off without him, a sentiment that lingered like a dark cloud over his soul.

Kate sensed Arthur's tension, the silent turmoil that echoed beneath the pads of her fingers as she tended to his wound. She felt the subtle movement of his muscles, synchronized with the rise and fall of his breath. "You're a strong man, Arthur. Age and scars don't make you any less handsome," she reassured him with genuine honesty, her voice a soothing balm.

With practiced ease, Kate finished cleaning his wound and reached for the needle and thread. She gently maneuvered his arm to rest on the side of the wagon, adjusting her position for a better angle to begin stitching. Arthur's nerves betrayed him, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side as he tried to compose himself. His head felt dizzy, as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"I reckon you're just sayin' that to be kind," Arthur finally admitted, his self-doubt palpable in the air.

Kate chuckled softly, the sound carrying warmth and sincerity. "I've met my fair share of ugly bastards in my lifetime, but believe me, you are certainly not one of them," she assured him, her voice like a gentle flame against his skin. Her words were a rare gift, stirring something deep within him that he had long kept hidden. Arthur closed his eyes briefly, letting her words sink in.

"You're a very handsome cowboy, wrinkles, scars, size and all. I think you're a lovely man," Kate affirmed, her words carrying a sincerity that tugged at Arthur's heart. "Besides, I know I'm not the picturesque woman myself. I'm no stranger to the cruel effects of time and livin' rough. Today, I was even called a ‘hoyden wench’ by some bona fide racist ranch hand," she added with a light laugh, as if brushing off the insult.

Kate had a way of making Arthur feel like they had known each other for a lifetime. Since the day she opened up to him about her life, she had been unapologetically honest with him. It was as if she already knew she could trust him with her personal tragedies.

Hosea's words echoed in Arthur's mind, a comforting reminder of the wisdom his old father figure imparted. Hosea simply wanted happiness for him—not wealth in money, but richness in love. He wanted Arthur to find purpose and meaning in life, to share that journey with another soul.

As Kate's needle deftly worked the thread through his skin, Arthur felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Kate's words eased a heavy burden, if only momentarily.

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, summoning the courage to speak. “Well, I’ll say this. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lady who can hold her own,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’ve got a strength and beauty that’s hard to come by. I think it’s pretty admirable.”

Kate giggled softly, the sound sending a warm flutter through Arthur’s chest. “Thanks, Arthur. First time I’ve heard that in a while,” she replied, her eyes meeting his.

Arthur marveled at how he had summoned the courage to kiss her the other night, feeling as if he could barely face her now. Yet, if she leaned in to kiss him at this moment, he knew he would succumb to his desire, despite what he had told her before. She lit a fire in him.

“S’true. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole damn holler,” Arthur said, unable to hide the light chortle that escaped him.

Kate leaned closer, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered, “You have quite a sweet side, Arthur. I adore that about you,” her hand lightly squeezing his arm.

His heart swelled, and Arthur knew this was the moment. He needed to tell her, despite the nerves that threatened to overpower him. Hosea may have been right; she had stayed by his side despite everything. But as he searched for the words, unsure of how to broach the subject, his nerves got the better of him once again. There was never an easy way to say it. Just the memories of them alone felt like acid in his throat.

Kate took a step back, placing her tools down on the back of the wagon. “I reckon I’m about done stitching this. Try to stay out of the crossfire next time, yeah?” She teased, holding up his bloody shirt with a knowing look as she handed it back to him.

Arthur felt a pang of regret. “Wasn’t my intention to get shot,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He slipped the shirt over his shoulders, tugging the sleeves down his arms.

“Nobody intends to get shot,” Kate mused, taking a step back to give him space.

Turning to face her, Arthur was struck by the sight of her eyes, a sadness that mirrored his own that evening under the moonlit sky when they kissed. His heart throbbed at the sight. Since the day he met her at Emerald Ranch, she had a welcoming presence that drew him in, along with a deep sorrow that resonated with his own. It was as if she knew him before she even met him.

He looked down, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I appreciate your help, darlin’,” he murmured. Then, letting out a deep breath, he added, “though, I really don’t deserve it.”

Kate brushed off his self-doubt. “Don’t fuss over it, Arthur. I’m here whenever you need a hand,” she assured him. “I think you should get some rest though; from Sean’s stories, it sounds like it’s been a long day.”

Arthur nodded silently, watching as Kate bid him farewell and faded back into the night. His heart silently begged, please don’t go. But she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts under the blanket of stars.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate lay beneath the star-studded sky, her eyes fixed on the milky purple and white swirl above, like celestial clouds in motion. Her heart echoed the rhythm of hooves against her ribs. Thoughts of Arthur filled her mind, his presence vivid in her thoughts.

The image of his body lingered before her, along with the stories he shared about himself. A longing surged within her to reveal how beautiful she found him, to explore him with kisses and her wandering hands.

Patience wavered as a persistent ache in her belly reminded her of the closeness she craved. Intimate moments with Arthur kindled her core, igniting a blaze of desire. Each quiet, vulnerable encounter with him deepened their connection. Funny how his true colors always showed when he was alone with her.

Kate smiled to herself, feeling a rush of desire she hadn't known for what felt like a century. As good as she was on her own. She felt like life had finally granted her an anecdote to her lonely heart.

---

AN: Phew, its out there. I know that was pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope I didn't bore you guys. Next chapter is going to be a long one, and may take me awhile. But it will be worth it, I promise!

As always, thanks for all the love!

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hcneygemini · 26 days

Text

𝖝. 𝖆. 𝖓. 𝖆. — the sex was good until it wasn't sentence starters.

A collection of sentence starters from the album The Sex Was Good Until It Wasn't. Not including songs previously released as singles ( they are on this meme ) I also have chosen not to include 15, Lavender Daughter, or BODY due to the heavy and deeply personal subject matter. Please do not add to or claim this meme as your own. Feel free to change pronouns, slightly rephrase, combine, or shorten as needed. Some lyrics have been changed to better fit rp purposes. tw: toxic relationships, brief suicidal ideation, religious stuff ( mostly blasphemous lmao ), some violence mentions, & implied cheating.

LIP SERVICE

you can't hurt me any more than you have already.

it's taken everything in me not to be petty.

what once was easy is now feeling pretty heavy.

waiting is romance until [ they ] are never ready.

i get next to you and i still get nervous.

my stomach dropped when you said "i don't deserve this."

i don't deserve this.

"it's just not like you," is what i tell myself, but how could i know that?

i guess it's true love 'cause you always come right back.

a liability is what you lack.

i don't wanna know that.

you talk of timing, like our planets just aren't aligning.

you talk of timing, as if we don't have any say in deciding.

you talk of timing, as if my tongue is the only one i'm biting.

you talk of timing, as if i don't have all your confessions down in writing.

yeah, it's the timing.

i can't let you lie to me.

i don't know who you're trying to be.

i didn't wanna up and leave.

i knew you wouldn't stay with me.

i think about you all the time.

we thought it would, but it never died.

my guilt is true.

i wonder if you're warm tonight.

we tried to control all the damage.

you couldn't let go.

i couldn't handle all the doubt in my mind.

all that's left is the hurt where you're hollow.

i wish you'd have saved yourself, 'cause i now i gotta save me.

now i gotta save me.

is there a world where we can make this better?

will i question your intentions forever?

[ Phoebe ] said that it's for the better.

i do what i can to make it last.

i'm scared of how i feel when you talk like that.

can we talk like that?

can we talk?

i would do it all again.

maybe we can try whenever you are able.

i'm not waiting, i'm just sitting at the table.

THE SEX WAS GOOD !

we're star-crossed lovers, but i wanna puke whenever you say it.

you're a little older now.

that's just the hard truth.

you're rocking with the big boys.

you scream your lungs dry.

i'm a sucker for white noise.

where am i tonight?

i guess you'll never know.

you probably won't sleep right.

now i can't think of you, it ruins my whole mood.

i only painted you red out of kindness.

you blame it on your childhood.

i should have left, but how could i?

i guess the sex was good until it wasn't.

i bet it cuts right to the bone.

you wanted a wife and a kid and a life you could control.

i've got unsaved numbers in my phone.

i've got a god-awful tendency to love being alone.

break all my shit!

incite a riot!

go play the victim, babe, i hope they buy it.

dry your alligator tears.

you can't leave 'em here.

you wanted love songs—beggars can't be choosers, dear.

i'm stone cold.

it's fucking tragic.

i never loved you.

i find myself looking back a bit more than i should.

it wasn't all bad, but it wasn't that good.

SICK JOKE

write it in gold.

the ending gets old.

they say you learn to know when it's time to go.

these days i'm talking to myself.

i know what to say now.

is everything i feel temporary?

i'm learning more about myself and it's scary.

won't you let me live right here in the memory?

love me plenty.

take this gently.

leave me empty.

leave me whole.

call it what it is: it's a sick, sick joke.

nobody's laughing now.

i wanna learn to love you, i just don't know how.

i swear i'm really trying, but i'm all worn out.

all that happened hurt me more than i care to talk about.

nothing ever changes, and i'm sick of this town.

will i find it in me to find a way out?

i think i might feel better once i let you down.

we never touched in that midnight glow.

every part of me you begged to know.

i look into your eyes and i see my own.

it's almost like you always knew me—what a horrifying feeling.

you were horrifying.

i only miss it a little.

i don't wish you very well.

you only loved me in riddles.

you still loved me, i could tell.

now you call it a fever dream.

you're only kidding yourself.

i wanna learn to trust you, i just don't know how.

you're no longer a contact.

i'm good on my own, but you already know that.

you swore to be true.

you failed in the moment.

they say it takes two, but i blame you.

i don't know what it means.

someday i'll find the meaning.

the wound still stings.

i kinda like the bleeding.

where'd you go?

you oughta stay there.

i had to block you on the internet 'cause i still care.

it keeps me up at night like a bad, bad dream.

what if i never find someone who's just like me?

our stars never aligned.

we did a bad thing.

i hold on to the grudges.

i wish you held me.

i have an incessant need for a love so all-consuming that it ruins me.

you promised it was real.

i guess you misspoke.

i wanna be merciful, i just don't know how.

it goes against my nature to believe you're bad.

why'd you have to go and lie to me like that?

there always come a point where you have to have your own back.

now's as good a time as ever to learn that.

i'm thankful that i never gave you all of me.

now i get to walk away with everything.

if i linger in your memory, eradicate me!

i never saw you coming, but i felt you leave.

i did my best.

i hope you never find the guts to make amends.

i'm crying to my friends.

i'm plotting my revenge.

all i really wanna know is why would you pretend?

FERAL

i served my head on a platter.

i wish i were dead by now.

what does it matter?

make your amends.

prepare for the slaughter.

the rumors are true.

you're callous and cruel.

that [ woman ] is feral.

they said, "be careful, that [ woman ] is the devil.

even god herself as never known such evil.

i see [ her ] when the lights go low.

i feel [ her ] when i'm on my own.

i do my best work under pressure.

you fight for your life.

for me, it's just pleasure.

blood on my lips looks so much better.

witness my final ascension.

i command your undivided attention.

i'm teaching a lesson.

god is a woman and she likes other women.

does it keep you up at night?

was there something in the light that looks like me?

was it worse than you thought?

are you praying to a god you don't believe?

there's a shadow in your bed.

[ she ] won't leave.

i kinda wish i killed you sooner.

pray to your great empty heaven.

THE KICKER

it's snowing for the second time this winter.

i'm glad i didn't, but i wish i'd kissed [ her ]

i've been contemplating resolutions.

i blocked the user, but [ she ] made a new one.

i'm at a loss.

maybe i'm sick and need an obsession.

maybe it's love and the timing's up to heaven.

if it's as real as it feels, wouldn't you be here still?

ain't that the kicker.

there's a ghost in these walls.

[ she ] says nothing at all.

there ain't a single day i don't feel [ her ].

you're a lesson learned.

i'm one you get to work through.

how dare you say this ain't easy for you.

you get to fall asleep in bed with a [ girl ] who chose you.

i hate that i still wonder if it's what you wanted.

you said you're all mine.

it left me haunted.

if i go crazy, put your name down on the paper.

cause of death: a fucking serial dater.

maybe i'm mixing up all the signs.

you're really not a bad guy.

you could be the one if i just let this one slide.

baby, you're lucky that i'm such a forgiver.

you chose her too.

don't tell me you love me if you don't mean it like that.

you don't mean it like that.

don't tell me you're coming back, you don't mean it like that.

why'd the lord make me such a forgiver?

EARTH EYES

you're got earth in your eyes.

i can hardly survive how you touch me at night.

will you touch me tonight?

will you touch me?

you're all mine.

you kissed and you cursed me.

i spent 7 years trying to prove i was worthy.

i waited for worship.

i waited for madness.

i sat on your doorstep.

i loved without reason.

you loved me in secret.

now that i'm older, i no longer mind it.

it wasn't one-sided.

you tried to hide it.

you wound pretty lies 'til we crashed and collided.

i finally found you.

ALIBI

i don't love [ her ], but i think about [ her ] all the time.

i wonder what on earth [ she ] tastes like.

i've got a hundred reasons why i need an alibi.

i think it's funny.

i can never get [ her ] all alone.

it's all we know.

i haven't been this close to heaven since they shut me out.

i still had blood on my clothes.

[ she ] washed it out.

i know nothing in this world can save me now.

no, i don't love [ her ]

[ she's ] just somehow all i think about.

ain't it funny?

for you, i think i could have been someone.

i hope you know when it's your time to go, it'd be an honor just to offer up a hand to hold.

if i have to wait until our decaying state to be that close to you, darling, it's all i'll do.

i'll be yours forever, if forever will have me.

i'll be yours forever.

4EVER

it's already been 6 months.

i kinda hate how the time just goes and goes.

it feel strange to think about how i used to be somebody you didn't know.

you're the first i always call.

i share my clothes and fears with you.

we know it's something special.

we know we're gonna miss it when we get a little older.

i'm crying on your shoulder.

i think i fell in love, but it feels a little better.

i could stay right here in this house with you forever.

some things are meant to be.

some things are accidental.

you make me believe the world could be gentle.

every minute here i get more sentimental.

you cry in my arms.

i put on the kettle.

we do what we want.

the [ girls ] are allowed.

i had a panic attack, now we're going out.

god, i love the [ girl ] house!

you can brush your teeth while i'm singing in the shower.

i'll follow you wherever.

you make it all right.

home is where i love you.

they could stick us in a movie.

i'd even go to hell if it meant with you.

how'd we get so lucky?

home is where you love me.

we're all just a little bit in love with [ Amelia ].

i'll meet you on the corner.

i'm down in california.

they say talk is cheap.

JANUARY

it's all so comforting, the part of me that dies without you here.

tell me how i'm supposed to stay away for another year.

i don't wanna kill the parts of me that loved you right.

i can't look them in the eye.

i swear i will hate you for this forever.

i never got to tell you that i loved you.

i was blinded by your tunnel light.

this is my town.

honey, it's your wasteland.

i don't think we'll ever talk again.

we couldn't get that right.

i didn't notice the moment you let go of this.

i was all alone in it for longer than i knew.

i knew.

you made the right choice.

i'm second guessing if i ever really knew your true intentions.

you couldn't hold back.

i couldn't learn my lesson.

i kinda hate the silence.

i know what to do with it.

now it's over.

i feel 10 years older, somehow none the wiser.

i do this every time.

i couldn't get that right.

your skeletons, they don't scare me.

i go back to january—in my mind, you wait there for me.

i feel pathetic, insisting this shit's poetic.

i feel you rolling those damn eyes.

i curse 'em all the time.

no, i don't miss you anymore.

i don't want you back in my life, i couldn't live like that.

i'd say i'm happy.

there's still something so daunting.

i never felt the weight of it all.

you came along and took it off me.

i hope you're happy.

i can't look at any pictures, i'm afraid i'll see you with [ her ].

i heard you got that right.

i can't go back, i can't move forward.

i cried all night.

what's that like, being loved by you?

i still talk to you when i'm sleeping.

i call you name just to feel something.

i never learned to let a good thing go.

no, you won't be seeing my name on a phone screen.

you're hoping it's me who caves—well, it won't be!

i needed the time and the space.

i can't recall why it was needed in the first place.

i ain't a killer.

oh baby, i might be.

you're somehow the one i can't leave behind me.

in my mind, you regret me.

do you regret me?

#roleplay meme #rp meme #rp prompts #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #lyric starters #lyric sentence starters #violence mention tw #implied cheating tw #suicidal thoughts tw #religion mention tw #toxic tw

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milks-thoughts · 8 months

Note

*Me standing very politely and patiently for a pt 2 of the future apprentice fic (it has not left my brain since you posted it and has consumed my entire being)*

*Me answering your patient waiting with heartache and pain*

this is from Juniors pov for a while but the switch is obvious

TW: death, murder, abandonment, brief suicidal thoughts , attempted murder

Take My Fathers Conscious From Me

“ Where had they gone? “ The only question in Casey’s head while he tore through the base. Not stopping until he heard the commotion of someone arriving and then..well, after that was a blur. All he remembers is his mentor covered in blood and holding his friend’s necklace. He had trained with them, they were close…where were they.? Four months had gone by without an answer, he wanted to ask sensei..but the way he’d shoot up every night and hold their necklace and weep…Casey already knew his answer. They died. He just couldn’t believe that, it’s impossible. His friend wasn’t that friend, but he knows deep down, his sensei’s guilt killed his best friend.

Casey knew what he knew, and he needed to see it. Proof that he wasn’t insane. When he fled the camp in the middle of the night and found where the accident had happened…it was bone chilling. His best friends leg was the only thing left but it was purposefully cut off. He followed the very stale blood trail and found nothing. A dead end, when he investigated the alleyway he saw a picture on the floor. Him, sensei, and his best friends first time outside the camps watchful eyes. His friend found a camera, probably the last camera that still had anything still in it. They snapped a picture of Casey and Leo, that was their most prized possession. And they left it. On the back was written “ don’t trust him “ and Sensei’s face was crossed out..all the marks were covered in blood. When he explored the city more he started finding more stuff like that. On the walls, written in white paint “ don’t trust the turtle “. Casey gripped his hockey stick and turned around, unaware of the eyes watching him.

They left me. I was still alive and they left me. They’re traitors- you can’t trust them. Those were the only thoughts running through your head, sure you were very slowly bleeding out after you sloppily closed your amputation but, that’s just that. Your eyes narrowed as you wrote another warning on a brick wall. The kraang dogs had learned to ignore you, too injured to be a good host for the kraang. You held a sword tightly in your hands, that’s the weapon he trained you in. You won’t ever say it but…the way your heart cracks whenever you think about it is a clear reminder of what he did. Your eyes watched the resistances lookout camp. A side camp that…He, redirects survivors to that are unfit to fight. So what made you fit? Or were you just a lamb to the slaughter this whole time? how could he do that to a child?

You slowly crept to the camp, using your code to sneak into it. Master Donatello takes days to stop a code from working so..you have time. slipping between the camps different tents and areas you finally found what you were looking for. Their plans, and some spray paint. Grabbing them both you quickly left. You never wanted to see that familiar symbol, the familiar saying, the familiar everything. You didn’t want to remember how He would train you for hours until you got it right and then reward you with canned fruit as a treat. He manipulated you for YEARS so he could leave you to die when things got scrappy. You hobbled, your makeshift prosthetic pushing into your sloppily healed leg. You needed to get that cleaned..

How could he? He was the leader. Was Leonardo’s only thoughts. How could he leave you? He was supposed to protect you..and now Casey is distant…everything is falling apart. He stared at Casey Jr as he deflected any conversation…has he found out? Leonardo will NEVER live with himself “ Casey- “ he started before stopping, letting the boy walk off without a word. He was a pathetic leader.

You grabbed your weapon tightly, watching as a patrol went out, it was perfect. He was on the patrol..and so was your friend. His black hair curling at the ends as the dry air was a smidgen humid today. You gripped a firecracker you found and lit the end with your campfire, angling it so it’d shoot and hit a building. It rumbled and dropped slabs of concrete, blocking the patrols exit and crushing a person who was straggling in the back. He looked mortified as the noise rang through the empty city, yipping of kraang dogs filling the space as they altered the kraang to the patrol’s location, you slowly made your way down the building pulling your body, forcing it to contribute. You’ve lost so much blood and you’ve been weakly fighting an infection. If you were going to die- if time allows so- you’ll pull down the devil with you.

You watched the carnage, in the heat of battle there’s two faces you’re looking for. The devil, and the dove. You find the dove quickly, he was limp. Half his body pinned by a slab of building side, his head bleeding. The dove refused to fly away and died. You wanted to wail, but in your exhaustion you couldn’t. Your hands clammily held your weapon as you walked towards The devil, swinging your sword and missing by a bit. Your prosthetic was weak and snapped, you fell with it. The devil turned and stared at you. His face pale and horrified, you swung your sword up, slashing his arm and cutting through the muscle. The devil hissed and grabbed his arm, not making a effort to hurt…you..

You growled and pulled yourself up “ Fight me-! Or would you rather just leave me somewhere!? Like you left-.. “ what was the doves name..? you couldn’t remember. You fell again, your body shaking from force and exhaustion, your brain running like a hamster in its wheel. The devil fell to his knees and picked up your body and held you close to him. Your hands weakly pawing to get away, he was murmuring something but it was all white noise. You barely made out the “ I’m so s- “ it all went deep in noise at that. Your body begging to just rest. You couldn’t, “ I gotta- I gotta.. “ you felt yourself whisper before a harsh spike of white, hot PAIN filling your chest and soon your whole body. You gripped at his arms, at your sensei- no he wasn’t your sensei…he wasn’t-

Your coughing and begging finally stopped ringing in his ears, your hot blood coating his green hand as his katana was wedged in your chest. He couldn’t- you were suffering. But he put you down like a dog…he was a monster. Maybe he should lodge your sword in his neck? make it so you in a way, finally killed him. You were dead, Junior was dead, Raph was dead, Dad was dead, April was dead, Cass died, Draxum is dead, and Donnie is…dead..- he’s lost everyone. His thoughts were interrupted by orange chains and a orange cloaked figure staring at him

“ Leo….what have you done..? “

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #angst #save rottmnt #rise leo #future leonardo #rottmnt casey junior #I listened to Mitski while writing this #I dunno if I like this but Jesus fuck #sorry </3 #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt

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aliveinacoffin · 1 year

Text

Master List

Of the .1 fics that I've written/posted on here

⋆｡°✩ Spider-Verse ⋆｡°✩

( ´ཀ` ) Miguel O'Hara

Lunch Date - PT1 PT2 - Fluff/Implied F!Reader, can be ignored if you squint

↓ All somewhat connected, neither have to be read to know context, though, I would rec to read top first↑

Come Back To bed - PT1 PT2 - Angst little comfort/GN!Raader

A Difference In Fate - F!Reader, angst no comfort,

Coffee for us - GN!Reader, fluff

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ My Hero Academia ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

✩࿐ General

Boyfriend Imagines - Gen!Reader/Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Shouta Aizawa, Denki Kaminari, & Hizashi Yamada - fluff, headcanons, just tooth-rotting fluff :>

ᓚᘏᗢ Aizawa Shouta/EraserHead Hospital - GN!Reader, angst/fluff comfort, TW suicidal talk, and dying) Strawberry Fanta - PT1 Introduction - (Rest On Ao3! Finished) - NSWF!F!Reader, TW yandere, stalking, violence (his name isn't spelled right I don't think? I'm so sorry) Orange Fanta - PT1 - Story and context on Ao3 - NSFW Fem!Reader, TW Yandere, violence, sexual content, dubious consent/noncon Silent Nights Exhibition - No reader, only zawa NSFW: public nudity, gremliness My own mirror - PT1 - PT2 - no reader, 3rd pov TW: Suicidal thoughts, smoking weed, implied abuse, parent death, brief mentions of ED With my whole heart- GN!Reader, angst/little comfort/none, TW: Yandere, violence, mentions of kidnapping, drugging, staking Hating you as well - PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 - F!Reader, little angst/mostly just the sillies - you just wanted to make friends, but one GUY keeps making that impossible for you, it was like he fucking hated you! And for what!!

❆Shoto Todoroki♨

Deja ya de llorar - GN!Reader, tiny angst/major comfort just cute all around

♬♪ Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada

You're Not Just Him - Pregnant!F!Reader - Fluff - You make your husband take a break from work and have a family day with you and the kids.

✰ ✰ ✰ All Might/Toshinori Yagi

Important To You - Toshinori & Daughter!Reader - angst/no comfort TW! Neglect, parental abuse, depressive episode, mentioned eating problems, bullying, and mjc death - Being the daughter of such an important man was already hard, but after he gets deathly ill and the death of his best advisor? Forget about it!

༺｡° .ᘛThe Last Of Us 1&2ᘚ. ° ｡༻

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ellie Williams

Ellie Band Au Headcanons - no reader- nsfw & sfw parts

☀︎ Grand Theft Auto V ☀︎

Wedding Ring - F!Reader- Smut, cursing, manipulation - Michael De Santa has ghosted you for moths, and now he shows up to your house unexpectedly.

My Ao3!

Unfortunately, I do have unfinished works, and new ones in progress, but it's okay because I guilt myself enough for the both of us.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Requests are OPEN! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Won't do: Scat, water sports, puke (in that way, if ya know what I mean lol). Thats kinda it :)

Will do: Pretty much everything else lmao Post dividers by @cafekitsune

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Fandoms I can do!

MHA

Undertale

Across The SpiderVerse

Rick and Morty

Grand Theft Auto 5

SouthPark

The Last Of Us&1 (Games 2)

Harry Potter

Adventure Time

The disastrous Life of Saiki K

F is for Family

Mystic Messenger (Though, I will warn you I haven't completed the game 100%, so I'll go off what I know so far/what I've seen from the fandom.)

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carnivorous-parasite · 5 months

Text

hello everybody!!

I was hoping I wouldn't have to make any posts about this, but I feel it necessary at this point. I know you will be reading this, Pumpkin. I'm disappointed in you.

TW for mentions of harassment, death threats/death mentions, brief mentions of rape, suicide and self harm.

The user @/pumpkin-frappe has been harassing and triggering me for years. The reasoning seems to stem from harassment I leveled at him as a little kid (12-13). I used to hate him, due in part to jealousy and mainly due to him shipping Tomtord (which triggers me due to my abuser having shown it to me), and my behavior was unacceptable as a whole. I have since apologized.

However, my apology was never accepted and he has since continued his campaign of harassment and disgusting behavior towards me and other people.

This is the same person who sent me borderline nsfw of my trigger ship (which he is aware triggers me because I was raped by the same person who introduced me to the ship)

He also told me to slit my throat, but unfortunately by the time I tried to take a screenshot he had deleted his account to delete these messages.

This person is 18. An adult. Who enjoys triggering minors PTSD and harassing them ??? PLUS seems to love suicide baiting and guilt tripping everybody around him (note him blaming me for his s/h and suicidal thoughts, plus mentioning his dead dog????)

Please do not harass him. Two wrongs do not make a right. I am simply posting this to call this behavior out and hopefully force him to make an apology.

When I originally tried calling him out for sending me those images of Tomtord, he threatened to kill himself. This behavior has flown under the radar for far too long.

And to Pumpkin: The way I treated you was horrible. I am aware of this. But it happened 2+ years ago at this point, and I apologized to you. For you, an 18 year old, to be behaving this way is genuinely fucking disgusting!!

#Disc horse #God I'm tired #Important #call out post #if you have questions you may dm me!!

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janetbrown711 · 1 year

Text

A Sadness Runs Through Him

Pigsy confronts his feelings of guilt around his past, and more importantly, around Sandy-- though it takes a panic attack or two before he's really ready.

tw for PTSD, panic attacks, past murder, and brief mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Ao3 Link

Moving.

A task universally hated by all those involved, especially if they happen to be of pig-demon descent and also run a noodle restaurant.

While the apartment came pre-furnished, Pigsy still had to think of a way to bring his own pots, pans, spices and everything else he knew either wouldn't be provided or wouldn't be how he liked it. And that meant planning.

And if Pigsy was bad at one thing, it was planning– the only reason he was good at planning out his restaurant was because his grandmother helped set up and regulate everything for the first two years. Even when she died, she left him a bunch of resources to help the transition.

He was grateful, but his grandmother couldn't help him now.

"Sir? I've been ringing this bell for five minutes!" A huffy woman clutched her purse and tapped her foot as Pigsy realized he had been spacing out again over his "moving plans" paper– which was blank, obviously.

“Sorry– what’s your order?” Pigsy asked, and the women huffed in content.

“She wants the Liangpi! I heard her while she was on the phone!” MK called from where he was mopping two feet away– Pigsy and the woman’s faces both instantly turned red.

“Kid– what did I tell you about yelling in the restaurant?” Pigsy glanced apologetically at the woman before looking at MK.

“...Don’t?” MK scratched his head.

“Yeah kid, don’t,” Pigsy sighed, punching in the order. “71.54 yuan.”

“You know you really shouldn’t have kids here if you can’t keep them or your restaurant in order,” She snipped as she handed him her credit card.

Pigsy didn’t have the energy for this.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he faked the biggest forced smile he could and handed her the receipt and card back with force.

She continued to mutter under her breath as she took a seat at a table, and Pigsy got to cooking again.

He was able to go into autopilot in an instant, so his mind naturally wandered to the subject of moving again.

It was so high up and there would be a good amount of boxes– Pigsy wanted to avoid going down to the lobby to gather his things as much as possible, but at the same time he really didn’t want to hire a moving team either since it wasn’t like it was too much– just– things. Nah– Pigsy could handle the stares, he was grown. It was fine, a-okay. Totally cool– like– uh– ice, ice cool?

Pigsy needed to stop letting the kids watch TV.

Pigsy got to slicing the beef for her dish before all he really had to do was wait, and so he went to rinse the knife in the sink, when suddenly a familiar green flash ran right past him– causing Pigsy to fall back and almost drop the knife.

“KID-!” He barked, but was ignored by the girl climbing onto the counter and leaning beyond the outdoor bar.

“Hi Mister Tang!!!” She called and waved excitedly, and Pigsy could hear his familiar laugh from a bit aways.

“Kid– get down from there– you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Pigsy took a deep breath and shook off the scare before going to rinse off that knife like he had meant to. Mei still didn’t listen, continuing to wave until Tang was at the outdoor bar.

“Hey kiddo, what’s up?” Tang said, stepping through the door, which was the key to finally getting Mei down from there.

"I helped Mr. Piggy make today's noodles," she beamed with pride and Tang gave the chef a surprised look.

“Did he now?” He asked Pigsy more than Mei.

“Kid was practically begging yesterday– ‘sides, she learns fast,” Pigsy informed, done with rinsing and returning the knife to its proper place and checking on how everything else was cooking.

“I did a really good job,” Mei informed the scholar who laughed fondly.

“I can’t wait to try them,” Tang smiled, opening his laptop as he did every day.

“Thanks! I’d help more, but Mr. Piggy here says that it’s ‘too dangerous’,” Mei shook her head and got out of the kitchen to sit next to the scholar.

“I’m not wrong,” Pigsy rolled his eyes a little.

Mei didn’t say anything, but the chef knew she was sticking out her tongue at him.

“Mr. Pigsy knows what he’s talking about, Mei,” Tang sympathized with the girl, who now flopped onto the bar dramatically.

After a bit though, Tang added with a whisper, “though he can be kinda mean about it, huh?”, which sent Mei into a giggling fit.

More looks from customers. Especially that one lady.

"Yeah, Mr. Piggy is kinda mean," The girl laughed a bit more.

Pigsy gripped his ladle tight and continued to stir.

After a deep breath, Pigsy was able to completely tune out his surroundings, moving like the well oiled machine he was. Add a little bit of ginger, slice some mushrooms, check the noodles, pour it in a bowl, add the garnish and voila.

“Order for Wu Lian,” the chef called out, ringing the bell and placing the bowl on the counter before going to start Tang’s dish next.

Everything went silent again, as he carefully chopped onions and added just the right amount of ginger to the pot and began to stir– which was when he realized the bell was ringing incessantly in the background, forcing Pigsy to snap himself out of this.

“Yes..?” He asked.

It was the lady again.

“I found a hair in my noodles,” The lady frowned and crossed her arms.

I…is she serious? Pigsy had nary a hair on his chinny chin chin since– ever really (except that one time he attempted a mustache in the military but he didn’t like to think about that).

“Y…you aren’t serious, are you ma’am?” Tang spoke up for Pigsy.

“Do I look like I’m joking here? This is serious stuff– my husband works in the Health Department and I could call him right now to inform all of your customers that this– this demon is trying to poison us!” She raised her voice to get the other customers' attention.

Pigsy thought of a reply– something huffy and quick– but when he tried to speak, his tongue was heavy and a strange sensation washed over him and he felt disconnected.

Tang must’ve noticed, because he continued to speak for him. “Yeah, sure, call him over– I’d love to see you try and explain how the hair from a bald pig demon got into your noodles.”

“Ha! I’m sure this place is a real pigsty back there– so either remake the noodles, or I’ll call,” She finished her sentence with a big phony smile.

Tang clearly ran out of ideas, and now all eyes were on the chef, who was still standing around, almost watching himself and waiting to see what he’d do as well.

“Get out.”

Looks like he was going authoritative.

Wu Lian gasped. “Well– I never– my husband will be here so fast– I will just–”

“Get. Out.”

The woman scoffed again. “You demons are all the same-! Oh just you wait– I will sue you so hard and then you’ll see– you’ll see,” she continued her proclamations as she walked outside.

“...Pigsy? Are you okay?” Tang asked.

Pigsy shook his head in an attempt to feel connected to himself again.

“I’m fine. Just thinking about moving and stuff,” He waved it off and went to make sure none of Tang’s food burned.

“That lady was very mean,” MK set down the mop against the bar and sat on one of the stools.

“She was,” Mei agreed, crossing her arms.

“She was– but what do you mean moving,” Tang briefly acknowledged the two of them before returning his focus to Pigsy.

“We’re moving into a big ole penthouse uptown,” Mei informed.

“Ooh, you found a place?” Tang asked.

“Yeah– I just gotta plan how to carry everything at once,” Pigsy huffed as he continued slicing green onions.

“I can totally help-! I-if you need it– What day would you be moving?” Tang immediately offered.

“Tomorrow!” MK said excitedly.

“Tomorrow?! Pigsy! Why didn’t you think to ask for help sooner?!” Tang sounded genuinely baffled, which was a little funny to the chef.

“Tang, it’s fine– like I said, I can manage,” Pigsy shook his head, adding the onions to the pot and stirring.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you need to.”

Pigsy poured Tang’s noodles into a bowl, taking a deep breath before eventually nodding, going over to serve him as he said “Fine– fine, just… Yes, you can help.”

Tang smiled that stupid smile he always had, with its stupid little tilt before he grabbed chopsticks and began eating.

“I can show you how I fit under the sink!” MK pointed out, kicking his legs excitedly.

“Yeah! And I can show you the cool TV! And Mr. Piggy can show you his bedroom!”

Tang choked on his noodles and Pigsy felt his heart stop.

.o0o.

Yeah, the lady was totally bluffing about the phone call, no health inspector ever came, and even if they did Pigsy knew he’d pass.

The rest of the night had gone without a hitch, though Tang did have to leave earlier than usual, which meant it got quiet pretty quickly. The good part to that was that it meant Pigsy was comfortable with the idea of closing early for once in his life, and so they all got to bed at a not-so-shitty hour.

Pigsy still fucking despised his alarm’s painful tone the following morning, of course. Especially because it was set even earlier than average so Pigsy could go get the moving truck from the rental place– though not without waiting for Tang to arrive so he could watch over MK and Mei (which was something he realized he hadn’t quite thought about before).

Once that was settled, and Pigsy checked in with Tang to make sure the kids ate, they got to putting the dozen or so boxes into the truck downstairs and it was go time.

Now… let it be known that Pigsy was a law-abiding citizen most every single day. He understood and had great respect for the rules of the road.

However…

The truck only had two, maybe three seats if you think you can place someone in the middle.

And so Pigsy drove, Tang sat in shotgun, and MK and Mei… Well, MK’s skill of fitting under the pipes was put to use in the space under the glovebox, and Mei was managing fine in that “middle seat”.

Look– neither Pigsy nor Tang owned a car and calling a cab seemed like a dumb idea so— it’s what they had.

“We are so going to get pulled over,” Pigsy muttered to himself as he got onto the main road.

“It was your idea,” Tang said.

“Hey– that’s my face,” MK giggled from the floor of the vehicle.

“Sorry MK,” Tang apologized and readjusted himself.

“I know! I know! I just–” Pigsy sighed. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

Pigsy could feel the look Tang was giving him burning on his skin, but he kept on driving anyway.

Green Light.

“Pigsy–”

“I’m fine, Tang. You’re right. Sorry,” Pigsy shot. Tang raised his hands in his defense but didn’t say much so silence filled the truck momentarily.

This, however, was shattered instantly when Mei asked, “Mr. Piggy, what’s ‘booba’?”, which startled Pigsy so much it affected his steering.

“W-well, that’s– uh– hmm– that’s–” Pigsy tried to think of a response, but words were unable to form as his heart started to pound.

“It’s pronounced bow-ba, n-not… that way,” Tang touched Pigsy’s arm lightly while speaking to Mei. “And it’s a type of tea drink with tapioca pearls– it was big in the 90s, not so much right now.”

Green Light.

A car behind Pigsy honked at him for his sporadic driving and Pigsy wished he could give him a piece of his mind. The car gave him the opportunity as they switched lanes just to cut in front, to which Pigsy almost responded by flipping them off, but Tang put the hand down and gestured to Mei and MK with his head.

Yellow Light.

Pigsy sighed as he pumped the brakes to a halt, annoyed at both the difficulty of the action due to the truck’s age, and slightly annoyed Tang didn’t let him flip off the other driver. He was made even more annoyed though when the previously mentioned car made it past the intersection.And somehow even worse, another car behind him honked at him, and needless to say Pigsy was starting to feel his blood boil.

“Mr. Piggy, why are they honking at you?” MK asked from under the glovebox.

Pigsy rubbed his forehead as the car finally halted. It wasn’t like he was a piss poor driver, he just… hadn’t been on the road since– a while– but it was fine, everything was fine. If only he could actually fucking tell MK that, but whatever.

Tang took a glance at the mute chef and decided to handle that too. “Well, MK, some drivers are… mean.”

Mean.

Mei laughed, “Mr. Piggy’s mean too– maybe that’s why.”

Red light.

Blood instantly began pounding in Pigsy’s ears, his grip on the steering wheel causing his knuckles to turn white. Tang was saying something but Pigsy was just watching the light– the red one– the one on the right. He was going to drive straight ahead and he was in the front of his lane. He wasn’t going to be mean, he was going to be attentive and then everything would be fine and they’d all get there on time and they’d be all moved in and everything would just be so fucking fine.

Still red.

A hand attempted to touch his shoulder, which made Pigsy jump. Tang said something while Mei spoke even quieter behind him. Pigsy didn’t care– he was so fucking focused on driving. It didn’t matter that it felt like he’d walked up fifteen flights of stairs, Pigsy was doing what he was supposed to and he was doing it fine. He was fine, everything was so goddamn fine it was like they were at the apartment already. Sure he wasn’t nice, he was never nice. Who gives a shit if you reach your location anyways? He didn’t need to be loved. He didn’t even need to be liked. He was fine. This was fine. He deserved this anyways.

Green light.

Pigsy immediately began driving again, trying to stop his eyes from darting in every direction as hazards and sounds made themselves very present in his overstimulated ears. Especially the people in the car.The ones he was responsible for. The ones he wasn’t supposed to fail or let anything bad happen to. Was that a siren? Pigsy couldn’t think about that right now. Driving. Obeying the law to hide breaking it.

Green light.

Almost there now, just a few more blocks. Just don’t have a fucking heart attack and kill everyone in this vehicle because if you end up responsible for their deaths, you’ll never forgive yourself. What happened to Hai Xin is your fault. You remember how happy Sandy was. How in love he was. You remember your military friends too. Gone, shell of himself, gone, murdered, murdered, dead, dead, dead, dead, fucking dead.

“Pigsy–”

You didn’t go to court that day. You couldn’t stand looking at him. You still can’t. You broke him. You destroyed his life. You are beyond mean, you are cruel– violent– explosive– hideous– revolting–

“PIGSY– WATCH OUT–!”

The screeching of tires sent Pigsy out of his spiral as he slammed the brakes with full force, and the red light runner barely avoided a full-on collision. Everyone lurched forward, but Tang kept Mei from flying into the dash board. In a breath, Pigsy was able to pull off to the side, where he immediately parked, grabbed the pack of cigarettes and lighter in the cupholder, and got out of the car, ignoring Tang’s confused calls (not that he understood them anyways).

Pigsy walked.

He walked and walked and walked until he found himself a suitable bench by the–

Of course he was by the goddamn pier.

When Pigsy started to feel himself choke on the lump rapidly forming in his throat, he lit a cigarette and took a nice, long drag. His eyes tingled at the sensation as the usual sting filled his senses, but he was used to it. It was relaxing. Pigsy was relaxed right now. Especially with the ocean waves. Especially knowing Sandy probably doesn’t live too far from here– that he and–

Pigsy took another drag before he could think more. Again, calm washed over his body as the hot air flowed through him, giving him an addictive peace of mind.

“Pigsy? Pigsy, where are you?”

Tang was calling for him.

Pigsy didn’t care. He kept on inhaling the toxic fumes.

“Pigsy? P– Pigsy-!” Tang found him and immediately ran to the bench.

“Pigsy, A-are you okay? You were–”

“Fuck off, Tang,” Pigsy looked away from him, silencing Tang instantly.

“I… what?” The scholar stepped back. “Pigsy, what is going on? Why are you acting like this?”

Pigsy’s eyes were tired and sore as he unwillingly glanced at the ships on the docks, wondering if any of them belonged to Sandy or he managed to leave this shithole for good and leave him behind.

Another breath.

Tang sat down on the bench. “I… didn’t think you smoked.”

Exhale.

“Sometimes. What’s it matter to you?” Pigsy now looked at the ground, the brightness of the morning sun against the ocean waves hurting his eyes even more than the cigarette smoke.

“Pigsy,” Tang warned.

“What?” Pigsy grunted, still refusing to look at him.

“Pigsy– just– stop–! Stop acting like you don’t know that the kids and I care about you so just– tell me what’s wrong-! What happened back there? Please– I need answers– we need answers,” Tang grabbed his arm, and Pigsy finally looked at him.

…

Fear.

Tang had overwhelming fear in his eyes.

“I… I don’t know…” Pigsy was as honest as he could be, flicking his cigarette.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Tang asked, his voice low and soft. Pigsy shook his head, taking a drag.

“I don’t know, Tang. I just– I guess it started yesterday– I just– I keep losing control of myself– it’s like I’m just watching myself and feel like my hearts just all– tense and weird and shit and it’s all at the same time– I dunno,” Pigsy knew how stupid he sounded but it was the best he had.

“Oh, a panic attack,” Tang nodded to himself. “Is… that also what happened yesterday?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know, Tang,” Pigsy rubbed his eyes.

“Hey, that’s okay,” His customer got a little closer to the chef and wrapped an arm around the bench, his hand slightly hovering over Pigsy’s back. “Do you know what might’ve triggered it?”

Pigsy shifted uncomfortably, taking a long drag as he tried to and then immediately tried to ignore the possibilities.

“Pigsy, you have to tell me so I can help– because I do know a little bit about these things and– yeah I’m no ‘expert’ or anything but– I want to help,” Tang pleaded with the pig again.

Pigsy leaned back, releasing smoke before he closed his eyes and sighed. “I… god, it sounds so stupid but– I think… If I had to guess, then it was when the kid said I was…mean,” Pigsy mumbled that last word, but Tang understood.

“What? But Mei didn’t–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Pigsy turned to him sharply, smoke flaring out of his nose (which had the fun side effect of making the chef’s head spin).

“R-right– Sorry,” Tang quickly apologized. “I’m sorry she said that– and I’m sorry I encouraged it.”

“Sorry for snapping,” Pigsy sighed and went back to looking at the ocean. If it didn’t remind him of his crushing guilt, Pigsy would find it calming.

“If… you don’t mind me asking… Why does that upset you so much?” Tang looked at the ocean briefly too.

Pigsy’s cigarette was just about done, so he put it on the ground and smothered it with his foot before grabbing and lighting another, all while Tang watched on, his expression unreadable.

“Because it’s… You’re gonna deny it, but I know that I’m not exactly ‘nice’ and you are and it just– I try to convince myself I can do this but every time I hear something like that it just reminds me of how much of an asshole I am or have been– and then I think about when I was in the military– and then I think about Sandy a-and–” the lump in his throat returned, so Pigsy choked it with smoke.

“Oh– Sandy…” Tang nodded slowly. “You… never told me what the deal with him is.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Right…” Tang took a deep breath, before clearing his throat a bit.

“Look,” he started. “You’ve already told me a lot today, and it’s not like I can force you to tell me anything anyways– just know that– yeah, it sounds really really stupid and obvious, but you shouldn’t keep all these emotions and past feelings to yourself– it’s not– uh– healthy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pigsy said flatly, flicking his cigarette once again.

“And whatever you tell me, I promise I won’t le–”

“Don’t.”

Tang blinked. “Pigsy–”

“Don’t. You don’t know–”

“Then tell me, so I can know and I can make that decision for myself.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Pigsy, you don’t have to tell me anything, but I can’t keep watching you torture yourself forever,” Tang placed his hand atop Pigsy’s and gave it a squeeze.

Pigsy rubbed Tang’s hand with his thumb, the embrace warmer than the pollution in his lungs and throat. He then looked into Tang’s heavenly brown eyes, and remembered all the promises he had made the day after they had kissed. About not hurting him– especially on purpose.

Get your shit together, Pigsy.

“...Later. Maybe after we get everything settled in the apartment.”

Tang squeezed his hand even more. “Good.”

When they stood, Pigsy was filled with an overwhelming desire to hug or kiss him, but ultimately smothered his cigarette before stoically heading back to the truck.

However, the pair came to a halt when they heard panicked whispers coming from behind a trash can, and when Pigsy went to look, surprise surprise, MK and Mei had been spying on them.

“Hi Mr. Piggy,” MK waved, before smelling the smoke and making a face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah kid– I’m sorry for scaring the both of you– I lost myself a bit back there,” Pigsy scratched the back of his neck.

MK winced at that, but Mei hugged him, which startled the chef.

“A-are you okay kid?” was the only thing Pigsy could think to say.

“I-I’m really sorry I made you run away– I-i won’t do it again, promise!” Mei said, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

“Hey now,” Pigsy broke her embrace to get on his knees and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault I got… scared. It’s just something that happens to me sometimes– I’ll work on it, I swear. Don’t stress yourself.”

“Okay Mr. Piggy,” Mei nodded slowly before hugging him again, this time around his neck since he was level with her. Not knowing what else to do, Pigsy returned the embrace, almost startled by how comforting it was. Soon enough MK joined in too, and Pigsy felt like he was almost going to cry.

He hadn’t had a hug this good since his grandmother was in good health.

“C-c’mon, let’s get to our new place, hm?” Pigsy forced himself to break the embrace before he broke down again. The kiddos nodded and they were back in the truck in no time, headed to their (mostly) new hoity-toity lives.

.o0o.

It took roughly two hours to get everything all settled, then unlocked, then transferred from the truck to the apartment, and by then everyone was hungry and so Pigsy used it as an opportunity to look for new local restaurants, frustrated by the overwhelming amount of chains. They eventually found a stupid expensive sit down restaurant and ate there, and while some of the waiters were confused by Pigsy, it was generally okay. They then returned the truck, got boba– not booba– at Mei’s insistence, and when they finally got back to the apartment, MK and Mei went to their rooms to set up what things they had and hopefully not fall asleep until dinner.

And then it was just Tang and Pigsy alone, unpacking his things, which took a lot longer than expected since Pigsy was a terrible planner and the boxes were…disorganized to say the least. It took at least three hours before the two of them were able to reorganize all of the boxes so they had a system they could then work with, and by then the sun was starting to set.

“Woah, nice jacket Pigsy,” Tang whistled as he pulled out a thick brown shearling jacket.

Fuck. Of course it was that jacket– that stupid stupid, really nice jacket from back then. Of course it was– and now He was going to have to talk about… that because he was acting all weird. Great.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“Yeah, it’s from my time in the military– hence some of the patches– though I… tried to remove most,” Pigsy admitted, hanging up his one dress shirt in the walk-in closet.

“Ah,” was all Tang said. “Still– this is really nice– and I bet you look cute in it,” Tang said, before slapping a hand over his mouth, which made Pigsy laugh.

“Ohmygod I can’t believe I said that out loud,” Tang’s face was rapidly turning red, which just made Pigsy laugh even more.

“It’s alright, Tang,” Pigsy patted his shoulder and took the jacket, examining the folds and stitches in the leather carefully.

“When’s the last time you wore it?” Tang asked innocently.

“B-bajie– I swear I didn’t mean to– I didn’t mean to– It was an accident– I thought sh-she– A-and now– I-i can’t live with myself– Bajie please–”

“...Are you okay Pigsy? Is it the jacket?” Tang asked, and Pigsy realized he was gripping the jacket so tight his knuckles were white again.

“Bajie y-you have to help me– you know I didn’t mean it– I never would– I loved her– I love her– please–”

Pigsy took a deep breath. “Kind of…” he grabbed a hanger and placed it on the rack next to his other jacket.

“O-oh– oh no– I’m so sorry Pigsy– Forget I mentioned it– we aren’t done yet, so let’s just–”

“No… I need to tell you some time tonight and I get the feeling that if I don’t do it now I’ll just try to make myself forget,” Pigsy clenched his eyes shut for a moment, memories of Sandy flashing in his mind.

“Do… you want to go somewhere else?” Tang asked carefully. Pigsy glanced around and thought.

“I could use some fresh air,” He shrugged, referring to the balcony attached to his room, and so the two of them headed out there, both leaning against the railing and taking in the view for a bit first– which was especially gorgeous because of the previously mentioned sunset.

“So…” Pigsy started, though he was quick to realize how hard it was to find the proper words to describe his predicament.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to Pigsy– remember that,” Tang touched his shoulder in assurance.

“I know, I know, but it’s like you said– it ain’t exactly healthy, and you deserve the choice to know what I’ve done and then leave me– it’s unfair to keep you hostage,” Pigsy sighed, the remaining pack of cigarettes sitting heavy in his pants pocket.

“I’m not a hostage here, but whatever helps,” Tang said half jokingly.

“Right– well– um…” Pigsy took another breath. “So… I– well I– I was a really terrible kid, okay? Like– just the definition of a punk who needed a good whack over the head until he got his shit together,” Pigsy started, and though he could see Tang was trying not to judge or interrupt, he was very clearly struggling from his expression alone.

“S-sorry-! Sorry, I’ll try harder not to– express– emotion…” Tang apologized, clearing his throat and trying to set his face to neutral, and Pigsy decided it was best if he just kept his eyes forward for now.

“Well, anyways, I was a little shit and I– I had a friend– Sandy– who I knew through school and– Jesus, he was a real nice guy. Big and tough and scary, but nice deep in there,” Pigsy blinked away images of him to keep his focus. “We were quick to become a duo of punks, though I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was clearly the one who was “influencing him”. His folks were absolutely terrible and all, but he was always more hesitant to start shit than I was.”

Pigsy glanced at Tang, who he confirmed was listening intently. Pigsy took another breath before continuing.

“When we were teens, we got into some steep shit– and being demons and all meant we were set up to be in prison for a long, long, long time… unless…” Pigsy dug his nails into his skin.

“...Unless you joined the military, right?” Tang guessed. Pigsy nodded.

“Since we were little shits of course we took the first opportunity to get out of trouble and wipe our slates clean– but– jesus– W-we made a lot of friends– demon friends, which I guess was our first mistake since it’s basically fact that most demons don’t… make it back from the military too often,” The pig demon’s breath was starting to get shaky so Tang placed a grounding hand on his back and rubbed it soothingly, which did help quite a bit.

“I-i was a real big coward, s-so it’s easy to say more than a few of their deaths are more than likely on my shoulders, you know? I-i mean I know– I know I didn’t get them enlisted, but I just– I didn’t jump on that grenade, I didn’t act fast enough to save Dino or Ace o-or anyone– but all that I-i think I could’ve lived with if…”

The cigarettes were taunting him in his pocket now, as well as the sake in the cabinet. He hated this. He hated every single part of this. He desperately wanted to run or to leap right off this balcony and– No, no. He owed this to Tang.

“When we got back– I-i just wanted to forget it– all of it. Meanwhile Sandy was keen on remembering them all– he even had a little shrine for them in his place– we fought like hell that day– but other than that w-we were okay– well, I thought he was doing okay– he even managed to find himself a-a nice girlfriend–”

Hai Xin.

“Oh, well that’s nice…” Tang said. Pigsy knew it was to try and comfort him, but his words just made Pigsy want to slam down fifty bottles of sake.

“S-she was a saint, l-like how he kinda used to be– she brought out the best of him like that,” Pigsy nodded along, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“S-she and him– they were gonna get married– it would be in the summer on a boat with the sunset behind them a-and then they were gonna have kids– a bunch of ‘em– Sandy told me and everything– he even asked me to be his best man even before he proposed– it sounded so nice, Tang– he was so happy,” Tears were streaming down the chef’s cheeks now, but when Tang opened his arms for a hug, Pigsy shook his head and continued.

“B-but one n-night I get a-a call… from him, from Sandy– a-and he’s just– he couldn’t stop crying a-a-and apologizing a-and swearing he didn’t m-mean it a-and– he kept swearin’ it was an accident– it took fifty goddamn minutes before he was able to get himself together— a-and– a-and when he did I-i could see why…”

“No…” Tang gasped softly.

“H-he killed her, Tang. The court declared it as PTSD induced violence– a nightmare woke him up and in his confusion h-he attacked her a-and– he was sentenced to prison for five years and court mandated therapy a-and– god– It’s all my fault, Tang– it’s all my fault-!” Pigsy buried his head in his hands and embraced his tears now. “I broke my best friend a-and the love of his life is dead because of me.”

“Oh Pigsy–”

“N-no, because you know what? Th-that’s not even the worst goddamn part-!” Pigsy’s breath hitched before he laughed like a madman. “T-the worst part is that I could even testify for the best, kindest, most loyal friend I’ve ever had in my whole entire fucking life! I-i mean– Jesus, what kind of a friend am I?! F-first I made him a delinquent, almost got him placed into prison, basically force him to join the war which emotionally scars him forever, a-and then when his PTSD takes away what little joy he had, I-i couldn’t even be there for him– and then he went to prison anyways-! This is why you should hate me, Tang– why everyone should hate me– god, I can’t do this–”

Pigsy went to leave, but Tang grabbed his arm and forced him into a tight embrace. Pigsy tried to fight it, but Tang was surprisingly steadfast and kept him in his embrace until he gave up and buried his head into Tang’s chest.

“I’m so sorry Pigsy…” Tang whispered as he stroked his back.

Pigsy wanted to fight that. He was tempted to say, “you have no fucking right to say that” and “you didn’t know them– you should be sorry for them, not me” or even “serves me right” but Pigsy was exhausted, and so let Tang have this one as years of repressed sobs and shakes released themselves onto Tang’s scarf.

“Pigsy, listen… it’s not your f–”

Pigsy snapped right back.

“Tang, don’t.” The pig broke the embrace and tried to wipe his own tears away, but it would’ve been easier to dam up Huangguoshu Waterfall.

“Pigsy–”

“No. I don’t need to hear it– I don’t care– I-i need you to accept it. Denial’ll just hurt both of us– It’s just something I have to fucking live with– you too, i-if you want me.”

If you want me.

Pigsy knew he wouldn’t now.

Tang was silent, his emotions clearly all over the place and Pigsy stood there, feeling like a fucking baby with how many tears were just falling uncontrollably at this rate. Again he thought of the cigarettes in his pocket and the sake in the kitchen, but he decided to wait until after Tang told him he was leaving them– he needed to face the consequences for his cowardice completely sober.

“Okay. I’ll drop it. I’m sorry,” Tang said.

Pigsy blinked. “N-no.”

“No? I just apologized– what’s there to ‘no’?” Tang was genuinely confused.

“I said ‘no’ Tang– y-you’re supposed to be angry-! You’re supposed to hate me– kick me– scream at me– leave me– You aren’t supposed to just– accept this!” Pigsy shouted, nostrils flaring.

“Well I’m not and you can’t make me!” Tang shouted back. “I-i really care about you Pigsy– a-and I meant what I said earlier– I won’t leave because of what you did in the past– all I care about is the here and the now.”

“What kind of a moron are you?!”

“A moron who’s practically been in love with you for a year-!” Tang gestured furiously at himself, though lowered his hands when he realized what he said.

“L-look– what I mean, Pigsy, i-is that… I-i’ve cared about you for a long time, a-and–”

“I didn’t know your name a week ago,” Pigsy cut him off, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“I don’t care, Pigsy! That’s the thing– I don’t care– I didn’t care when you weirdly had two kids in the back of your restaurant, I didn’t care when you adopted them that day out of the fucking blue, I didn’t care when you went silent as a ghost after I kissed you, I didn’t care when you had a panic attack at the wheel which could’ve almost killed us, I didn’t care when you told me to fuck off, and I sure as hell don’t care now.”

“Why not?!” Pigsy shook his head violently, and Tang grabbed his hands.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, Pigsy, a-and I meant what I said, I-i– I love you,” The scholar squeezed the chef’s caloused hands tightly, forcing Pigsy to look into his eyes, forced to confront that the man in front of him was telling the truth.

He was telling the truth.

Oh god– what was he supposed to do with that– oh god oh god oh god–

Before Pigsy could overthink and ruin this, he hugged Tang as tight as he could. He didn’t know what his goal was, but he just stood there, holding his favorite customer, never, ever wanting to let go of him. Tang returned the embrace right back, and Pigsy buried his head in his shoulder and the tears came back in an instant.

It took a moment before Pigsy realized Tang was crying too, which made Pigsy hug him tighter and stroke his back in a similar fashion that Tang did earlier.

After a long, long time of standing like that, Pigsy croaked, “I’m so sorry, Tang.”

“Why?”

“I-i… doubt humans are this complicated,” Pigsy half-joked, which made Tang laugh a little.

“I’m not a clean slate entirely either,” He admitted. “But even if that wasn’t true, I wouldn’t mind. You mean a lot to me, Pigsy.”

Pigsy’s shoulders tensed at how much he was sounding like Sandy, but Pigsy wouldn’t ruin this– not right now.

“You mean a lot to me too, Tang. A-and I swear I’ll be everything a-and anything you need in the future– really– I-i–”

The chef would’ve rambled more, but Tang lifted his chin and kissed him.

“All I ask is for your company, and if something’s bothering you, tell me. I’ll help however I can, even if it’s just listening,” Tang smiled softly and Pigsy hugged him again.

“I-i can try that,” The chef whispered and Tang nodded in approval, kissing his forehead which still somehow managed to send butterflies fluttering down the pig demon’s stomach.

“I’ll hold you to it then,” Tang embraced the chef once more.

Once again, the two remained in their caress for a long, long time as cool night air settled over the two of them and their heartbeats became one.

After five minutes, a knock on the sliding door broke their embrace. Pigsy and Tang quickly wiped their eyes before they opened the door and allowed MK to step out.

“Mr. Piggy, I can’t find my uniform,” MK got straight to the point and informed his legal guardian.

Pigsy chuckled tiredly. “We’ll find it later, kid,” he said, ruffling his hair.

“Oh– well– I thought we might wanna find it now since we start school tomorrow.”

Pigsy froze.

“...Kid?”

“Yyyyyyyes Mr. Piggy..?” MK bounced on his heels.

“What day is it?”

“Sunday,” MK happily enformed.

Well… Shit.

The kid was right– tomorrow was their first day of school and Pigsy hadn’t thought about preparing them for it at all today.

Well this is gonna be just swell, ain’t it?

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bravevolunteer · 7 months

Text

VERSE — MOVIE ( CONTAINS SPOILERS & CANON DIVERGENT, tw for canon-typical themes & suicide mention )

just to get straight to the point : it's mainly canon divergent in the sense that i will be altering details in order to make mike an afton. do i think this is going to happen in the movie timeline? no. do i think it's more likely that they're going to explain the oddly personal kidnapping through mirroring the emilys? probably. but it's MY michael afton blog and i can put on my tinfoil hat as much as i want about it. of course i am willing to adapt based on other's info / preferences but given that this isn't my main canon anyway it is meant for those that are interested.

Mike thought he knew everything there was to know about what happened to his family: what he was never told is who his real father was. He was too young to remember anything about William Afton before his mom separated herself from him entirely ( one night stand, breakup, what have you, i'm not picky- ), so he always thought of the father he grew up with as his dad, the reality never changed anything about that.

Until he was twelve years old and Garrett went missing, and everything fell apart. William followed the Schmidts there, taking Garrett in a targeted attack ( whether or not he was trying to grab Mike, took him out of spite, anything else is also flexible ). Everything grew solemn and tense, each of the Schmidts lost in their own individual grief. Slowly, they stopped having dinners together, stopped going out as a family, stopped being able to feel like things were normal. The grief and guilt only added to Mike's developing anger issues and depression. Although it wasn't on purpose nor with any malicious intent, his dad was the more distant of his parents at the time, serving as the first hint towards his biological parentage and simply because as much as he cared for mike, he was grappling with losing his biological kid ( think tse henry- well meaning but drowning in grief enough for the child to pick up on it ).

This is where Abby comes in, where the Schmidts have another kid in an attempt to feel like a normal family again. It almost seems to work, although there is still that underlying sense of collective grief. Mike was older by then, too ( while he graduates high school, he either doesn't go to college at all or doesn't finish it ).

Their mom dies and the brief sense of possible stability disappears again. It's when Mike is staying at home again for the funeral/to help with Abby that their father commits suicide, unable to take the grief. Mike has had custody of Abby since then.

The events proceed as they did in the movie, William's recognition of Mike in the office not only stemming from the kidnapping but the fact that it's his kid, although Mike doesn't find anything out beyond the fact that it's the man who took Garrett. There is potential for more hints towards this in past interactions with his aunt or birth records or even his dynamic with Vanessa, but for the most part this specific realization is left open.

Following the movie's events, he... does come home to his aunt in the living room. After reporting her death, Mike actually goes back to Freddy's one more time to get security footage in order to prove his innocence. Afterwards, he does his best to hold down another job to keep taking care of Abby in peace, but something about Freddy's gives him the sense that he'll come back to make sure nothing like this happens again.

#⁂ ･ﾟ: the secrets that you keep when you’re talking in your sleep ➛ movie #fnaf movie spoilers #this is waaaay longer than it needs to be i have got to shut up #so i'm cutting it here despite having more thoughts those can be hc posts #ANYWAY YEAH. GOING WITH A.FTON THEORY. HONK HONK #i do really like the idea of them mirroring the emilys and i KNOW this barely changes shit but #i am just trying to find a way to Combine The Two in my brain and keep the general basis i've been working with for so long #it's like... he's michael but grew up under completely different circumstances. why he didn't treat his brother the same way.#he has completely different experiences but they resulted in a similar guilt. similar reactiveness. similar protectiveness.#so the a.fton thing just helps me tie them together even if it doesn't *really* come into play #'oh william pausing was because he recognized garrett's last name' mf why would he KNOW that if he just took a random kid.#'mike looks similar' that was a BABY. why would he go all the way to nebraska to kidnap some random kid it's so personal!#something about the way he's the only one to call mike 'michael' in the whole movie!#fnaf is all about going wild with it it's fiiine

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albatris · 1 year

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Hemlo I was on the bus today and was wondering about how darling Alexis was turned into a vampire can you shed some light on this perhaps maybe :)???

Hiii!!

Ya absolutely I can shed some light on this! But I'm afraid it's a pretty depressing series of events :c poor sweet darling Alexis Anders

Here is a short but tragic answer, and then a lil about what immediately follows, tw for brief talk of suicidality, coercion and animal death -

Alex was turned entirely by accident. wrong place wrong time :c

When it was 17 it was attacked by a starving vampire, one who was confused and alone n had been struggling not to hurt anyone, a schoolteacher named Amanda Fies. There was no thought behind the attack, it was just a total loss of control

A hunter stepped in before Amanda could drain Alex (Zeke's old mentor - hi Niamh!) and killed Amanda thus "saving" Alex. Truth be told, she was absolutely about to move on to killing Alex next, knowing it would turn due to its injuries. However, people showed up before she could finish the job and were all like "aaa we heard screaming oh my god that child is bleeding someone call an ambulance", so Alex was whisked away to hospital instead to deal with its blood loss and wounds

Alex dealt with the usual onset of symptoms - sunlight sensitivity, intrusive thoughts, paranoia, isolation, sensory overload, sudden bloodlust - and turned around a week later, when it accidentally killed [REDACTED] who it considered a friend and mentor and who was only there to try and help :c Whole thing is very sad and awful, Alex had a big ol' crisis about it of course and carries a severe amount of guilt, it was a terrible thing to have to go through

Alex spends its early vampire days confused and alone, all the while Niamh is attempting to track down this mystery kid she didn't get a chance to kill. She eventually catches up with Alex a few weeks later, after it had spent some time feeding on animals to try and keep from harming humans

Niamh sits and talks with Alex for a bit, and gently explains that while it can subsist on animal blood for a while, it can't survive solely on animal blood and eventually it will cave to its thirst and kill a human, and it doesn't want that, right? After all, the fact that it's even trying to live off animal blood and is willing to sit and have a civil conversation with a hunter proves it's one of the Good Ones, anyone can see that, smile? Doesn't it want to be a good person and not a monster? Doesn't it understand the only good and moral and kind thing it can do is die? Come on, it won't hurt at all, Niamh is very good with a knife, and this is The Only Right Thing To Do, Alex Knows That, Right?

So um. Yes Niamh very politely but VERY aggressively tries to persuade Alex to just peacefully let her murder it and Alex very nearly listens to her, but its nerve breaks at the last minute, possibly due to its heightened vampiric instinct for self-preservation kicking into overdrive, or possibly just because Alex is a frightened confused kid who doesn't want to die, n Alex bolts

Alex more or less abandons its entire life and skips town shortly after, scared of being tracked down by Niamh again or hurting the ones it loves. Vanishes without a trace as best it can. Then we reach the parts of Alex's story that I've already talked about, where it hops from place to place and attempts to only feed on Bad People and Criminals (and struggles with this because hardly any of the humans Alex can actually access are Bad and Criminals for funsies :c), then it goes to the wilderness for a while and tries to fight god, then it meets Quinn, yada yada

But uhhh yeah!!! yeah the tale of Alex turning is not a fun one unfortunately :(((

But!!! Of course 30-year-old Alex is in a much better place!! even if it still has a lot of work to do with its mental health!! Young Alex has a rough go of it but it's not all doom and gloom I promise

I will let the lad be happy <3333

#a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears #alex...... giving it a leetle kis on the forehead #alex's backstory is. sad. i apologise for this

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ferniliciousness · 8 months

Note

loyalty is interesting!

WIP List here This is probably my most well-thought-out of them all lol. It's during Garrus' loyalty mission and is set around my OC Gaia. Backstory so it makes sense, Gaia is feeling extremely guilty because she basically was forced to betray her old crew just like Sidonis betrayed Archangel. Garrus doesn't know and she sees him killing Sidonis as cementing her own judgment. TW: slight suicidal implications below

"Then shoot me Garrus. Kill me." Gaia shoves her pistol into his chest, catching him by surprise while her eyes lock onto his. Wide eyes meet hers, full of confusion and worry. He tries to take a step back, but Gaia hooks her hand into his armor. "I have been the cause of so many deaths, deaths of innocent people. I have so much blood on my hands, blood spilled from the end of a barrel." Her eyes never leave his, reflecting an honest guilt and a long-felt resolve. "I have cheated, stolen, lied." Gaia takes another step closer to him, pointing the barrel of the pistol to her chest. "I have betrayed people who trusted me, people who cared about me." The words came out calmly, years worth of turmoil and pain simmered down into Gaia's heartfelt belief in herself. Pointing down to where Sidonis had stood only moments before, "If he is deserving of this, then I am deserving of so much more." Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but her voice never faltered. Garrus tries to carefully pry the gun away from her, but her own fingers threaten to set it off. They both can hardly breathe, but even in the brief moment of silence, Gaia's hands just hold tighter to the pistol. "You say you believe in justice, in righting wrongs against innocent people. So show me Garrus. Show me. Pull that trigger and bring justice to me."

#mass effect #garrus #mass effect fanfiction #gaia

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hbyrde36 · 1 year

Text

Caught in the Undertow

Chapter 1: You in the dark

AO3

TW suicidal thoughts/ideation etc.

Chapter 1: You in the dark

*EDDIE*

Eddie has always sort of wanted to die. He’s never actually planned to kill himself and he wouldn’t, probably, but he’s fantasized about it a lot. Sometimes, on the bad days, before falling asleep he has even wished and prayed to not wake up again and honestly if the opportunity to die were to ever present itself he knows he wouldn’t do anything to stop it.

The idea comes to Eddie as he helps Dustin to climb up the rope and into the safely of the right-side-up. He is overwhelmed. He’s cold, and scared, and tired. Weary in a way that feels like no nap or good night’s sleep will ever cure.

It’s not even a debate in his mind. Eddie cuts the rope, ensuring Dustin’s safety, and runs out into the dark to lead the bats away.

This is it, the chance he’s always longed for and at least this way he can make it mean something. This will keep Dustin safe. It will buy more time for Harrington and the girls to kill Vecna.

He peddles as fast as he can, wanting to get the bats as far away from the gate and Dustin as possible. He thinks to himself as he rides that he’s glad he doesn’t want to survive this. What sort of life would he be going back to anyway?

Devil worshipper, cult leader, freak, murderer. It’s too many labels to overcome. He’s too many things, too much. Too loud, too different, too broken.

When he’s not being too much he’s not enough. Not a good enough student, I mean who takes this many tries to graduate high school. Not a good enough son, if his parents dumping him on Wayne’s doorstep is any indication.

Thinking of Wayne causes a brief stab of guilt. He’ll be sad when Eddie’s gone but honestly, it’s the best thing for him too. One less thing to worry about, one less mouth to feed. He knows it hasn’t been easy on his uncle, having him. Raising a kid is never easy, let alone raising someone else’s and Eddie was a unique challenge all his own.

The bats have caught up and the swarm is directly above him now. One pulls away from the hoard and knocks Eddie from the bike. He doesn’t give up, he fights to the very end. It must have been a reflex, Eddie thinks as he lays on the ground bleeding out. Some long dormant base instinct popping up at the last second because why would he fight so hard when he wanted this. Eddie had wanted this, didn’t he?

*STEVE*

Steve is soaring. He’s fucking ecstatic. They did it, they killed Vecna. They fucking WON. He, Nancy, and Robin smile and laugh as they exit the Creel house. During the walk back they take turns recounting each of Nancy’s expert shots and every molotov cocktail that was thrown. It’s not until they’re about halfway back to the trailer that Steve realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He hears Dustin’s wailing long before he sees him, and Steve takes off running in the direction of the sound. He skids to a stop on his knees next to the boy, who’s crying huddled over the lifeless body of Eddie Munson.

Dustin starts babbling through tears “he said he was gonna buy more time. The bats started getting into the trailer, he made me go through the gate first and then he cut the rope and lead them away…”

It breaks something inside Steve. He can’t allow this, can’t accept it. They fucking won goddamn it, it’s not supposed to be like this. If anyone wasn’t going to make it, it should have been him, it’s supposed to be him!

He quickly bends over Eddie, leaning down to listen for any signs of breathing while using his fingers to check for a pulse. He finds neither but doesn’t let that fact stop him from starting CPR.

“Oh my god Steve, what can we do?” It’s Robin, she and Nancy finally having caught up to him.

He doesn’t stop or falter in his movements as he tells them what to do. “Take Dustin back through the gate and call an ambulance. I want them waiting on the other side before we try to move him.”

“Steve, he’s not breathing. Does he even have a pulse?” Nancy asks, tone careful.

“He will.”

“Steve…”

“Just go. Now!”

He’s not sure how much times has passed when Robin comes back, approaching him from behind.

“The ambulance is five minutes out, how do you want to do this?”

The timing was perfect, Eddie had regained his pulse just a few minutes ago and Steve continued administering rescue breaths until those returned as well. His breathing was shallow, but it was there.

He and Robin drug over a piece of discarded metal and moved Eddie onto it as gently as they could, using the improvised stretcher to carry him back to the trailer. Getting him through the gate was a challenge but the girls had shoved a bunch of furniture under it that he used to climb up while carrying their unconscious friend on his back.

He brought Eddie all the way to the ambulance doors and the EMT’s didn’t question it when he insisted on riding along with them to the hospital. Likely due to the fact that he was covered nearly head to toe in the other man’s blood. Nancy, Robin, and Dustin followed along behind in Steve’s car.

Things change once they arrive at the hospital, once the staff realize just who their patient is. Thankfully he’d been stabilized before that happened, Steve shudders to think about what might have happened otherwise.

Though unconscious, Eddie is handcuffed to his hospital bed and an officer is assigned at his door. The group is told they have to leave, it’s a matter for police now and since none of them are family anyway no details can be given on his condition.

They leave reluctantly and only after a kind nurse promises to contact Eddie’s Uncle. It’s a week before they hear any news. It takes Hopper returning from the dead and forcing himself back into the Hawkins PD to even have Eddie unshackled from the bed let alone start the long process of clearing his name.

Part 2

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #alternating pov #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 link #CITU

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swag696942069 · 1 year

Text

The Blissful Paradise of a High

Hi, so this is ass. Like, genuinely. I wrote it when I didn't have wifi for two weeks, but this took me two days to write, and its 5167 words 😭 can you tell how bored I was? Any who, it's a Euphoria inspired oneshot that may or may not be turned into an actual fic. I make no promises. Thanks to @transdorcasmeadows for the help with it.

Tw: drug addiction, drug deal(s), self harm, suicide jokes, depictions of drug overdose, depictions of drug relapse, mentions of death (brief), cursing, fighting (they just like, yell at each other, but I know that can still be triggering)

James had made a lot of mistakes in the short seventeen years he had been on this earth.

His biggest one, was the one that ended him up in this place to begin with.

James was currently about to complete his 60th day in rehab, for his 'drug addiction' as his mother, friends, and doctors have told him repeatedly over the past few month.

James doesn't remember exactly what had happend the night of his overdose. No one had told him the full story no matter how many times he'd asked.

All he knew was, he was home alone, Lily got home, heard weird noises coming from his room, and when she went to go check on him, she found James facedown in the middle of the room, in the midst of a seizure, that was caused due to the overdose.

James remembers waking up in his hospital room with, his mom, Lily, and Peter asleep in chairs around his bed.

James remembers feeling a surge of guilt when he realized what was going on.

He didn't remember what happend, but he knew it had to be bad, by the way his mom immediately burst into tears when he shook her awake, and the way she wrapped her arms around his in a bone crushing hug, and refused to let go, even after Lily had ran to get the doctor.

Immediately after he was released, he was taken to a rehab center in the next town over. He was still in his hospital gown.

Peter, and Lily, rode with him and his mom on the way to the clinic, and James remembers singing along to some random song that he didn't remember memorizing the lyrics to, to try and get his friends to laugh, smile, do anything besides silently cry in the backseat.

James had one last group therapy session to go to and then he was home free.

James sat down in his normal seat, and did what he always did during group therapy, stay quiet, and whenever someone looked at him pretending he was doing what he was supposed to.

At the end of the session, the leader of the group, came up to him and gave him a hug, "We're so proud of you James. You've worked so hard. And I know in my heart you'll be able to over come anything after this."

James thought this woman was really fucking stupid. If she had been doing her job, she would be able to tell that half the people here were still doing drugs. Including him. James was high right now for Christ sakes!

James smiled at her, "Thank you, Susan. I really don't know what I would've done without this place. I probably would be curled up in a ditch somewhere by now." James thought that that wasn't such a bad idea actually. Curling up in a nice little ditch didn't seem that bad compared to most things.

She smiled at him again, "I'm just so happy for you James. This is the start of the rest of your life! And if you even feel like using ever again, you just look at this chip," She handed him a fucking drug addict anonymous chip, "and know that you can overcome even the strongest of urges!"

James had never wanted to hit someone so badly in his life before. How is looking at a fucking piece of plastic supposed to stop him from getting high?!

James smiles at her again, "Thank you Susan." He brought her in for another hug. "Thanks for everything." Fucking bitch.

James was escorted out of the building, he saw Lily and his mom parked outside of the facility.

"James!" Lily yelled as soon as she saw him. They both started running, and ended up almost knocking each other down when they met in the middle, wrapping each other up in a hug. "I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too, Lils." James smiled.

When they pulled away, James looked up and smiled at his mom, who was still standing by the car. James threw his arms up in the air, as if to say 'I did it!' His mom looked like she'd aged ten years, she had more wrinkles, her hair was beginning to grey, and she seemed really tired, but when she smiled back at him, James knew it was still his mom there.

On the car ride home, he sat in the back, letting Lily have the front seat, James always preferred the back, made it harder for people to notice how red his eyes were, his mom kept saying something about how proud she was of him, and how this was a good thing, and that this was a new chapter for him. James smiled and nodded along, not really listening to a word she said, too busy looking out the window, he saw a boy on a bike pass them, and for some reason, James couldn't look away, his high was coming down, it had been a few hours since he took anything.

After James put his bags away in his room he went back out into the kitchen and saw his mom sitting at the counter, busily typing away at something on her computer.

"Hey, so I was think of going out, to see some people." He said, trying to sound casual.

"What people?" She asked, not looking up from her computer.

"Just some friends." He said, opening up the fridge and pulling out the jug of orange juice.

When James turned around he was met with the sight of his mother staring at him suspiciously, "What friends? People I know?"

James knew what she meant by that question, were they going to be people he could get drugs from.

"I was thinking about going to see Marls and Mary, maybe Peter, I don't know. I just haven't seen any of them in so long and I," James knew just how to get what he wanted. "I just miss them so much," he let his voice crack a little and let a small tear run down his face, one that he dramatically wiped off, "and I just feel so guilty. They must've been so worried and I want them to know that I'm okay now. That I'm better. Cause," another tear, "I really am mom. I'm better. And I'm just so sorry for everything. I don't know what I was thinking. I was just-" he knew it was a dick move but, "I just miss dad so much."

That was it. That's what really sold it for his mom. "Oh, Baby." She got up and wrapped her arms around him as he cried. "I miss him too. Of course you can go see your friends."

"Really?" He asked, wiping away the fake tears.

"Of course, Baby. Just be back in time for dinner, okay?" She said, wiping away the rest of his tears.

"Of course, mom." He kissed her cheek. "Love you."

"I love you too."

James knew it was wrong to lie to his mom like that, but she would've never let him go if he told her where he was really going.

The Bottom was a convenience store a few blocks away from where James lived. It was run by these two brothers, Frank, and Neville. Frank was a bit of a dumbass, James figured it was all the drugs he did that fried the last of his remaining brain cells. Neville was a bit scary if James was being honest, he was like, twelve, and he knew more about drugs than anyone James had ever met, even more than Frank, and he was his dealer.

When James got to The Bottom, he saw Frank sitting outside on what looked like a old, rained on, couch that was outside for some fucking reason. "What's good, man?" James asked as he walked up to Frank.

"Wassup, man. How've you been? Heard you was in rehab?"

"Yeah, just got out a few hours ago."

"Oh no shit? How was it?"

"Well, ever since I gave my life over to my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, things have been, like, really good." James joked.

Frank obviously missed the punchline. "Oh, that's what's up."

"Dude, Frank, I'm fuckin with you." James laughed.

Frank put his hands up in defense, "Shit man, I don't judge."

"But for real, is Nev in the back?"

Frank gave him a confused look, "What, are you serious? Didn't chu just get outta rehab?"

"What? You think just cause I went to rehab, I stayed clean?" James said with a raised brow, looking around just to make sure no one was around to see this exchange happen.

"Well, ain't that the point?"

"Yeah, well," James started walking backwards into the store, "the world's coming to an end, and I haven't even finished high school yet." James had his hands up as he spun around and made his way fully into the store.

James went to the back of the store, where the fridges are and opened an empty one.

"Hey." James said upon entering and seeing Neville eating a bowl of cereal.

Neville looked up with a dumbstruck, expression on his face, like he'd just seem a ghost, "I thought you were fucking dead."

"What the fuck? Why?" James asked with a look of pure confusion on his face.

"I don't know? That's just what people be sayin and shit."

"Whatever. Got anything?"

"Yeah, yeah." Neville put his bowl of cereal down and opened up a box and pulled out some of James regular. "Wanna try anything new?"

"Like what?" James asked, as he finished putting the narcotics in his pocket.

Neville pulled out two little pills that looked like they could be ecstacy "We got, 2C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT."

James looked at him blankly, "I'm sorry, I have zero fucking idea what you just said."

Neville waved him off, "It doesn't matter. But this shit is fucking lit."

James looked down at the little pill in Neville's hand, "What is it?"

"N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine. It's a fast-acting psychedelic. Got some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual and shit, but definitely a sense distorter." Neville explained.

James shrugged, still not fully understanding anything that was just said to him, "Yeah, okay." he said anyway, he was willing to try most anything once.

"That'll be 120."

"Uh, Frank said he spot me." James said, already walking away.

"Frankie don't spot nobody." Neville said, never buying into James's shit.

"Well you should go ask him. He said it was a post-rehab discount." He lied.

"I will go ask him, cause I know you're full of shit." Neville said as James walked the rest of the way out the backdoor and into the alley behind the store.

James saw Frank and Barty Crouch jr, doing a drug deal. James politely looked away, as anyone should when they encountered such a thing. You wouldn't want someone staring at you as you do a drug deal, would you?

Barty got into his car and began to drive away, "Ayo! I do it for Potter!" He yelled as he drove past James.

James never really had any sort of real problem with Barty. There was that time that he tried to kiss him, drunk at a party without his consent in freshman year, but besides that they barely knew each other.

James decided to just wander around for a while before heading home, that was until he got a spam all text from Sirius Tonks, saying that there was gonna be a party at Evan Rosier's house in a few hours.

And that gave James the, brilliant idea, to 'pre-game' with all the drugs he had on him, except for the new shit Neville gave him, James decided to save that for later.

James didn't really know Evan Rosier all that well, he knew that he was Barty Crouch Jr's best friend, and that he and Mary had been going out for a little while, this summer. He heard that from Lily on the drive back home, who heard it from Peter, who heard it from Marlene, who heard it from Mary herself.

Now, it was currently six p.m. the party didn't start until ten, and James knew he had to be home for dinner or else his mom would send out a search party, but, James was also really fucking high. Maybe taking all those drugs at once wasn't such a good idea when he had to be home soon.

James somehow made it home without any real problems, he had gotten a little lost on the way, but James figured it was probably just because he hadn't been home in a few months and he just forgot which way to go.

James stumbled in the house through the back door, his mom was standing in the kitchen.

"Where have you been?" She asked.

"I was at Mary's." He lied, making his way down the hall to his room.

His mom followed him, "No you weren't. You're high right now! Aren't you?"

James rolled his eyes. "I'm not high mom. I was at Mary's."

"You're lying. You're always lying, James! Just tell me the truth!" She was beginning to yell.

She never used to yell.

"I'm telling you I was at Mary's!"

"No you weren't!"

"If you don't believe me call her! Call her and ask her if I was there!"

"You know what? I will, cause I don't trust you anymore, James. I don't." She had tears welling up in her eyes.

"Mom." James said sadly, walking up to her.

She shook her head and backed away. "I can't trust you anymore James. I never used to have to worry like this."

"You don't-" James let out a breath, "You don't have to worry mom. I'm fine. I'm not lying, I was at Mary's."

His mom got a stern look on her face, "I need you to pee in a cup."

"What? You wanna drug test me?!" He was starting to get really fucking angry.

"I can't trust you James!" She yelled, trying so desperately to sound stern.

"I just fucking peed! I can't take the drug test if I just fucking peed!"

"James you have to take it! It's not an option."

"How do you expect me to take it if I just fucking peed!?" James was speed walking into his room. James went to go shut his door and it slammed harder than he intended it to.

"Don't slam any doors in my house!" He heard his mom say on the other side of the door.

"It was an accident." He said, sitting down against it so his mom couldn't open it. James had noticed when he got home earlier that his door no longer had a lock.

"You gotta take the test, James."

"I just fucking peed!" He laughed out of frustration.

"Fine! Slam another door!" And James heard her walk away.

Now, theres a few ways to fake a drug test. You could do what James had done with every other drug test he'd taken in the past two months, and get a sober person to pee in the cup for him. But, since most at home drug test had heat sensory, it has to be warm. And since James was sure his mom was going to stand in the bathroom while he did it, he couldn't really do the sink trick. So he had to get it fresh.

James snuck out his bedroom window and hauled ass down the street, making his way to Peter's house.

James knocked on the door and Peter opened it. "Hey, James." He said, wrapping his arms around him.

"Hey." James said, hugging him back. James saw Marlene and Mary sitting at the kitchen table a little bit away.

"What're you doing here?" Peter asked when they pulled apart.

James gave him a desperate look. "I need you to..."

"What?" Not getting it.

"No, like I'm serious, Pete."

"What?" Still not getting it.

James rolled his eyes and leaned in and whispered into Peter's ear.

When he pulled away, Peter looked at him with a look of anger and annoyance, and, sadness. "Are you serious?"

"Please, Peter." James whispered. He was really fucking desperate.

Peter sighed, defeated. "Okay." And he walked upstairs.

"Hey Jamie!" Marlene said, after Peter began to walk upstairs.

James put on a smile. "Hey Marls, Mary."

"Hey, Jamesie." Mary said with a small smile.

James actually really loved Mary. Most people though really low of her, but she was actually really sweet.

"You going to Rosier's party tonight?" Marlene asked.

Mary smacked her in the arm and gave her a look.

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe."

"You should. Sirius is going and Fabian's gonna be there, so you know theres gonna be a fight." Marlene said with a smirk.

Sirius Tonks was Mary's best friend. He had been going out with Fabian Prewitt for a little over a year. They fought non stop and had broken up a zillion times.

"Nuh-uh, Siri and Fab broke up. Sirius says he's so over him." Mary informed.

"Yeah but he says that everytime." Marlene rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well he says this time is different." Mary did her best to defend her best friend to her other best friend.

James didn't really know all that much about Sirius. He had moved to town when they were freshmen, after his parents died or something and he like, lived with his older cousin? James wasn't sure. The only time they ever even actually spoke was when they both so happened to be hanging out with the same group of people, and even then it was usually just pleasantries.

"Whatever. The party's still gonna rock." Marlene said with a smile as Peter came back downstairs and slyly handed James the medicine bottle filled with pee.

"Heres that book you needed." Peter handed him some random book that James didn't recognize from the cover.

"Thanks Pete." He whispered to him.

"Whatever." He mumbled, looking away from him.

"I'll see you guys later!" He called out before leaving. He heard a chorus of 'bye's' as he left.

James ran back home, snuck back in through his window, snorted some more coke and then called out to his mom that he was ready to pee. "Mom! I gotta pee!"

Once inside the bathroom his mom handed him the cup.

"I wish we could do this in a way that didn't invade my privacy." James said holding the cup in the air with a sad expression on his face, one that he hoped would get his mom to feel bad enough to leave the room.

But his mom didn't budge. "You lost your right to privacy when you overdosed." She said.

James sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to win this one, and turned to the toilet.

His mom at least turned around, as to not physically watch him pee, which James was very grateful for. It would've been really hard to explain why he was peeing out of his jacket sleeve.

James knew how to do this correctly. Drop a little bit in the toilet so his mom thinks he's actually peeing, then just pour the rest in the cup.

"Do you know how worried you made everyone? And to have Lily, be the one who found you... the girl who sees you as a brother..."

James's eyes filled with tears, "Can we, not talk about that right now, mom." He asked, taking in shallow breaths to try and stop himself from crying even more. James hated himself for it having to have been Lily, who found him. He hated himself anyway, but he could only imagine what must've went through Lily's brain when she found him. Face down. Basically choking on his own vomit. As he seized out of control.

Once James was finished pouring the pee into the cub, he slid the medicine bottle back into his pocket and turned around, placed the pee filled cup on the counter, and turned to wash his hands as his mom put the sticks into it.

After about a minute, the result came in to show that it was clean.

"I told you I was at Mary's." James whispered.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry." His mom said quietly, wrapping her arm around him.

"It's okay, Mom...." an idea. "Can I stay over at Peter's tonight?" He asked as they pulled away.

"That's fine, James. Just, grab some dinner before you go?"

"Yeah. Thanks, mom. Love you." He said with a small smile.

"I love you too, Baby."

He made his way back out into the kitchen, took a few bites of whatever the hell his mom made, and was back out the door.

James was walking to the party cause he didn't have his license, cause he was smart enough to know that addicts shouldn't drive, and he had this rule where he doesn't skate and smoke cause like.... James got a flash of memories of him attempting to skate and immediately eating shit.... its fucking dangerous.

He was walking past The Bottom when a car started driving really slowly behind him.

"What the fuck? Is that James?!" He heard a voice say from inside the car.

"Holy shit! I thought he died!" Another voice said, making James frown.

"Oh god I hate ghosts." James recognized the voice of Marlene say that.

"Yo, Casper!" James turned around at that. "Need a ride?"

James walked up to the car and saw, Sirius Tonks, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon and Pandora Rosier in it. "Why thank you." He said when he approached the car, hopping in the back seat when Pandora moved over to the middle.

On the car ride to the party, Marlene vaped, Sirius and Dorcas fought over directions, and Pandora sang along to the song on the radio, as James layed his head on the window, he could've sworn he saw the same biker from before, ride up to the motel on 36.

"I telling you it's to the left!" Dorcas said, looking at her phone, which had the map pulled up.

"I've been to Evan's house a million times! I think I know where the fuck I'm going!" Sirius bit back.

"Why don't you ask Pandora? Since she, like, lives there?" Marlene said, already baked as fuck.

All eyes in the car turned to Pandora.

"I don't live with Evan." She said with a ditsy expression on her face.

"But he's your brother?" Dorcas said confused.

"Yeah, but he lives there with our mom, and I live with my dad. I have no fucking idea where we're going."

James was wondering why she was in the car with them if she lives with Rosier. Turns out he was wrong.

"Oh." Marlene said. "My bad. Go back to fighting I guess."

"We wouldn't be fighting if Sirius would just listen to me when I told them where to go!" Dorcas said angrily.

"And if you would shut up and let me drive we would already be there by now!" The fighting continued until they finally arrived at the party.

"Hey Marls, wheres Mary? I thought she would've been with you?" James asked as they walked up to the house.

Rosier was fucking loaded! You could tell by the size of his house alone.

"Oh, uh, Rosier came and picked her up a little while after you left." Marlene said, not really paying attention to James.

"Ah. Well. I'm gonna go... walk around. I'll see you," he put his hand up to his forehead in a solution, "later." And walked off.

James wandered the party for a little bit. At some point he made his way upstairs to the bathroom, and crushed up the pill he got from Neville earlier that night, and snorted it.

"Ffffuuck." James said, eyes wide. He blinked, his eyes unfocused, as he slowly shook his head, leaning against the wall for support. His vision was blurry, and spotty, no matter how often he blinked or rubbed at his eyes, the music and voices outside the bathroom door were fading in and out in an echo, like he was underwater and in the sky at the same time.

He felt fucking great.

James didn't know what was in that thing, but whatever it was, he wanted more of it.

James attempted to walk out of the bathroom. He kept tripping over nothing, and ended up having to lean his whole body against the wall to be able to walk without almost falling over on his face.

James saw Mary and Evan Rosier sitting next to each other on the staircase, talking quietly to each other as he walked by, still leaning, heavily, on the wall beside him.

James made it downstairs and out to the backyard, where he found Frank, sitting by the pool.

"Yo man, you owe me 120" Frank said when James sat down next to him.

James smiled sheepishly at him, "Shit man, I forgot."

"It's alright, but I got a business to run, y'know? Can't be givin out handouts."

"I- I know man, I'm sorry. I'll get it to you later. You know I will."

"Yeah, alright." Silence settled between them for a few minutes before Frank broke it again. "Man, I don't know what kind of fucked up shit you been through, and I don't know how to help. But, what I do know, is drugs, it ain't it, man."

James bit the inside of his cheek before he spoke, "Y'know, when I was, like, thirteen, my dad died."

"Is that it?" Frank asked. Genuinely asking, not saying it in some snarky way.

"If only it was that easy." James was nodding his head absentmindedly.

James genuinely didn't know why he started doing drugs. He just knew that they made him feel better when he did them. So why would he stop?

Frank shook his head. "Shit, man..."

James nodded along, "Yeah. Shit, man."

James then heard screaming coming from inside the house and looked over to see, practically everyone who was there, gathering around the kitchen. And, since James was always a very curious person, he got up, and made his way to the kitchen.

Upon entering he saw Marlene and walked over. "What's going on?" He asked.

"Bro! Some dude just tried to kill himself!" Marlene said with wide, glazed over eyes, obviously very high.

"What?" James was sure he heard that wrong, but, then again, this was a high school party.

"Yeah dude it was crazy! Barty came in, yellin, and told everyone to get outta the kitchen, but that guy wouldn't leave so Barty kept yelling and then the guy pulled out a knife and, like, slit his wrist or something. It was crazy!" Marlene took another hit of her vape and blew the smoke out next to James's head.

"Oh, wow. Uh, alright. I think I'm gonna head out." James said, beginning to walk away. He wanted to find that guy and make sure he was alright.

"You sure? I'm sure Sirius can drive you home once hes done fuckin that guy in the pool."

James didn't have time to unpack all of this tonight, so he stuck with the first problem. "I'm good, thanks, Marls. I'll see you later." He was already halfway acrossed the room.

"K, bye! Love you!!!" She called out to him as he was walking out the front door.

Once outside, James looked around, trying to find the suicidal kid Marlene was talking about.

He saw a guy standing next to a bike, with blood dripping down his arm and assumed that must be the guy she was talking about and walked over.

As he got closer, he realized it was the guy he saw earlier, riding into the motel. "Hey, are you, uh, alright?" James asked, looking down at the guys arm.

"Uh, yeah. I guess I could tell that was gonna get violent, and this was the first thing I could think of to get him to back off."

"Ah, right... I'm James." He stuck his hand out for the boy in front of him to shake, mentally slapping himself for being so awkward.

"Regulus." The boy said, taking his hand to shake.

"Where you, uh, headed?" James asked, hands in his pockets.

"Uh," Regulus gripped the handlebars of his bike harder, "home." He nodded.

It was a good thing James was high, or else he never woulda asked this. "Can I come?"

Regulus stared at him for a few seconds, mouth ajar. "Uh... okay..."

Regulus got on his bike, and signaled for James to get on as well, and then they were off.

The ride over to Regulus's house was silent. James usually hated silence, his thoughts got louder in the silence, but this time, this time it was nice. James was too focused on the smell of Regulus's shampoo to think about much else.

When they got to Regulus's house he turned to James, "We have to be quiet. I don't want to wake up my cousin. I don't think she'd be too happy with me bringing a random boy home."

James's felt his cheeks blush, "Sorry..." he mumbled, feeling embarrassed to be imposing in someone's house like this.

Regulus smiled at him. "Its alright. She doesn't have to know." And he grabbed James's hand and took him inside, up the stairs, and into Regulus's bedroom.

Regulus went over to his closest and pulled out a cropped t-shirt, and some sleep shorts and began to change. James turned around hastily, not wanting Regulus to think he was some kind of pervert.

When Regulus was finished changing, he walked over to his bed and layed down. James continued to stand, awkwardly, in the middle of the room. After a few seconds, Regulus lifted his head up and padded the spot next to him. James cautiously walked over and gently began to lay down.

Regulus was looking at his arm, where the cut was, blood dry by now.

"Does it hurt?" James asked lowly.

Regulus shook his head.

"I c-" James struggled to try and find a way to say what he wanted to without having to worry that Regulus might take it the wrong way or something, "I could, like, clean it for you...?"

Regulus turned over to look at him. "You would do that for me?"

James felt his cheeks flush again, "Y- yeah. Its, uh, no big deal..."

Regulus smiled at him. "Thank you."

James just nodded his head and cleared his throat. "No- no problem."

Regulus got the stuff James would need to clean the wound, and James got to work.

When James was finished, cleaning, and bandaging the wound, he laid back down next to Regulus and smiled at him.

"I got an idea."

Regulus smiled back, "What?"

"Wanna get high?"

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