#VOTE VI. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
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ROUND 1A MATCH 5
Propaganda Under The Cut:
VI:
shes so. tragic. objectively such a wonderful and supportive sister but circumstances led her to losing her younger sister who she was supposed to protect and they ended up on opposite sides and.... augh....
AYANO:
One day her parents adopt 3 kids with red eyes and superpowers, they tell her that she is now their big sister. Said kids don't like their eyes because they think it makes them monsters but that changes when Ayano tells them "red is the color of heros". Eventually she ends up sacrificing herself in an attempt to protect her younger siblings. She is from the vocaloid song Ayano's Theory of Happiness.
#older sister death match#tumblr polls#fandom polls#polls#tournament polls#vi#arcane#ayano#kagerou project#look. i know i am supposed to be unbiased. however#VOTE VI. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD#SHE IS LITERALLY THE ICON OF THIS BRACKET YOU MUST VOTE FOR HER
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god ride the cyclone is the fucking musical ever. a rat named Virgil that's going to kill the narrator (a paranormal fortune telling machine) in like an hour plays the bass. you're then immediately introduced to five children that are brutally killed in a roller coaster accident and have their hopes and dreams and everything they loved taken away from them. an unidentified headless body depicted as having her doll's head appears and sings a very woeful introduction to her character and then asks if her purgatory-mate would like to brush her dolly's hair and then recites a fact about how when a lioness has children she stops making love to the lion. the lion gets jealous. sometimes so jealous he eats the children. you would think this would upset the lioness. far from it. they make love again like the children never existed. she finds that idea terrifying. the paranormal fortune telling machine is able to move the children's bodies against their will for choreography and "catchphrases" and this is shown to be something they're discomforted by initially but continues nonetheless through the rest of the musical. ocean tears down all of her friends in her song to come back to life until she's told they decide who comes back through unanimous vote. you laugh for half a second before you remember that even if she's initially stuck up and conceited her song was an attempt from the soul of an innocent dead teenager who died for no reason to try to plead to come back to life. noel has fantasies of being a sex worker in post-war france and dying of typhoid flu driven by his love of french new wave cinema (mischa calling him tragic later is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him). mischa recites a very precise and accurate analysis of the meaning of Saw VI but calls it Saw V. you listen to a very silly hip-hop rap before you listen to one of the most heartbreakingly loving songs you've ever heard and you hear "I lay my masculinity at the altar of your maidenhood" and you wonder how this is the same musical where the rat played the bass. you go from a song about a teenage boy saving an alien race of cat girls by breeding with them all to a mournful and breathtaking song about a jane doe's complete lack of identity besides the fact that she is dead and without an identity and the fact that she spends the whole song not begging to come back to life but begging to know who she is. her purgatory-mates get her a party hat and an old hello kitty cupcake and a cape and you sob when this choir made up of dead children make up a new birthday song that doesn't require a name so this jane doe can have a good new birthday because they finally don't see her as a freaky and eerie character but as a dead child just like them who can't remember who she is and they treat her like one of their own even though none of them recognize her from their choir. the last thing constance did before riding the cyclone was lose her virginity to a thirty year old and you try very hard not to think about how horrible that is. the girl that had been selfish the entire musical is given the final vote and is given a chance to vote for herself and she honors the original rules so she can give a new life to jane doe and everyone agrees. these children watch jane's new life play out and you think about how much they all deserved new lives too. it's both the most fun and most sad fucking musical you've ever listened to. fuck.
#and then you realize you got into it like 3 years too late for there to be an active fandom 🙃#long post#mine#ride the cyclone
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The Devils Inside Me - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)
Y'all voted on it, so here we go. Remember: don't like it, don't read it. Don't copy this to any other platform, please. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: The reader's parents think she is possessed by the devil, and only one man can free their daughter from His grasp.
Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), religious connotations, power play, choking, wrong use of a bible, talks about exorcism
Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (1.6k words)
Darkness. She was surrounded by a thick blanket of darkness; so thick (y/n) couldn’t even see her hands. It had been hours since she had been locked into this room, separating her from the rest of her family. She had listened to their conversations, how they feared for her soul. She had listened to their prayers, how they asked God to free her from the demons living inside her flesh cage. She had listened to their phone calls, how they begged Priest Riddle to find his way to them.
At first she had been angry, body filled with a biting heat, directed at her parents, at the two people that should love her more than anything else. They had pushed her away, scared of the daughter that was possessed by the devil, or so they thought. At first she had thought they were pulling a prank on her, a thought that had been disregarded the moment she had picked up on the fear filling her parents eyes.
The sound of three knocks banging against the door leading to the dark cellar echoed through the air, making (y/n)’s eyes snap open. Her heart was racing, filled with anticipation, wondering if it was the man she had been waiting for. Deep down she had fostered a crush on the handsome priest for years, giving into her carnal desire with her hands buried between her thighs and her lips parted, allowing his name to roll off her tongue. The man had something awfully intriguing to him, though nothing reminding her of the love a man of God should carry within him, no, he had something dark to him, like a soul stuck in Sheol, no longer believing in redemption.
“It’s me, (y/n). We will free you of the darkness inside of you.” His voice had something awfully sweet to it, dripping from his lips like honey, syllables rolling off his tongue like a prayer spoken in the early morning, betokening a good day laying ahead. Priest Riddle stepped into the cold room, holding onto a burning candle with one hand, while the other gripped his black bible. Their eyes met, two pairs finding one another in the darkness like magnets calling one another closer, a band that wouldn’t snap anytime soon. “Your parents fear you, they tell me you’ve invited the devil into your soul. Why would you do that, sweet (y/n)?”
“I didn’t. I am not possessed.” Her voice trembled, filled with anger, fear, and curiosity. Would he touch her? Would he pray for her wellbeing and leave her behind with the ever growing ache between her thighs? “I don’t know why they think that, I didn’t do anything wrong, priest, I promise.”
The clicking of his tongue forced her to shut up, eyes following his every movement. He sat down in the chair vis-a-vis hers, candle placed down on the table. Their eyes didn’t break contact, not even as he opened his bible with one hand, while the other drew a cross on his forehead.
“Pray with me, (y/n). Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up serpents with their hands; and if they drink any deadly poison, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.” His words filled the cellar, a sound so daunting even the shadows finding comfort in the darkness didn't dare leave their hiding spots. (Y/n) couldn’t help but give into the chuckles wanting to rumble through her, finding amusement in the situation – her first mistake. “I see. You’re too far gone, praying won’t free your soul. The devil has already taken over your mind.”
“What will you do? Give me a rosary to pray?” She was teasing him, wondering how far she could push him. (Y/n) had heard stories about the man, stories that forced themselves into her dreams, picturing herself with her naked body pressed against his, allowing the priest to mark her body, to leave his stain on her.
“I’d stop running my mouth, I won’t be gentle with your body and soul.” The priest rose to his feet, towering over her with his eyes focusing on her lips. Before (y/n) could begin to understand what he was doing, Priest Riddle had clamped his hand down on her throat, forcing her to tense, eyes growing wide. For a moment he didn’t move, staring down on her with a satisfied smirk tugging on his lips, lips he pressed against hers only seconds later.
The kiss wasn’t sweet, wasn't loving, no, (y/n) could taste the darkness seeping from his every pore on his tongue, a taste so biting, she feared the man was poisoning her. His hand on her throat grew tighter, would he snap her neck? Would he kill her before this could go any further? Her trembling didn’t stop, growing more prominent with every moan he lured from her, giving into the sounds only a woman guided by the devil’s call could produce.
Even though the kiss didn’t last long, she felt breathless, unable to breathe through the highs of pleasure he pushed her through. With their eyes connected the man straightened his spine, eyes flickering down to his bible. He threw the holy book to the ground, eyes focusing on it. “Onto your knees, we will get rid of your demons either way.”
Her body blindly followed his command, knees placed on the big bible. (Y/n)’s heart was pounding in her chest, a sound so loud, even those wandering the realm of death picked up on it. She was trembling, wondering if God was looking down on them, watching the sinful acts that were played out in His name, wrongdoings they’d never be freed of.
She gulped heavily as she followed the movements of his hands, how he freed his cock, twitching in his grasp. With a few of his cold fingers finding her chin, the priest tilted her head up, forcing (y/n) to look at him. His eyes had something to them she couldn’t pinpoint, he was challenging her, momentarily giving her a chance to back out, to pull away before they’d cross that last line – but she didn’t, all she did was part her lips, allowing his thumb to press down on her tongue.
Priest Riddle gave his cock a few pumps before he replaced his thumb with it, resting heavily on her tongue. Her saliva dripped down her chin, making a mess on the ground as if it was raining from the dark clouds above. She tried to move her hands, wanting to use them on the parts her mouth couldn’t reach, but the dark gaze he shot her forced (y/n) to sit still, only bobbing her head. His groans left her aching for more, shifting her hips in a desperate try to touch herself, using enough pressure to push herself further towards the edge.
“Don’t you dare move, this is not for your pleasure, this is not to satisfy your sinful needs. You shall suffer, and you shall learn.” His sharp words left her whining around his cock, eyes fluttering close to try and sort through her thoughts. Priest Riddle’s hand found the back of her head, pushing her further down on his cock, making her gag. Curses left the man of God, words only those wandering the same paths like the devil would use, giving into those fears (y/n)’s parents carried deep within themselves.
Her eyes were glassy, filled with tears as clear as the blessed water one would use in church, wetting their foreheads as if Johannes had bathed them at Bethany Beyond the Jordan. The priest wasn’t showing any mercy, fucking her mouth with rough thrusts, making her gag, whine, and moan. A sinful mixture she’d never be freed of.
“Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. You shall follow the call, you will serve me, and through me you will serve Him.” He spoke his words as if he was cursing her, sharp, without any mercy lingering inside his body. (Y/n) took his words without any chance to reply, feeling him twitch in her mouth, about to fill her cheeks with his release. The priest gave it one last thrust before his orgasm shook through him, cum painting her tongue and cheeks white.
(Y/n) swallowed every drop without protests, showing off her clean tongue as he pulled away, redressing himself with a simple “Good girl” leaving him. She was trapped in a whirlwind of different sensations, shame, pride, and arousal. But the priest didn’t seem to spare her another thought, pushing her off his bible, picking up the holy book before he turned from her.
Their eyes met once again before he blew out the candle, trapping her in the darkness once again, a fog of darkness she’d wander through till her last hour on this very earth would come upon her.
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The Fire In Your Eyes
part X: Horseshoe Overlook vi
pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
word count: 12.6k
summary: you face the camp with Arthur, coming home and shocking everyone with his return. Dutch makes it clear that he has a growing problem with you, and Arthur sweeps you away from the drama, taking you on a date.
a/n: hello! Sorry for the long wait. Finals are over, and I can finally breathe again. Therapy!!! Therapy this chapter yay! Everyone talking about their daddy issues! They need it tbh. But that aside, I love this chapter because they're just together. You all voted for a honeymoon phase so here it is! Poll can be found in series extras linked below. Enjoy! <3
beta read by @margowritesthings
warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (skippable smut)
series extras
SERIES MASTERPOST
You trot past Flatneck Station, swallowing thickly at the memories from the last time you’d been past. Hoof prints are stamped into the mud from the chase where you'd leapt from the train, and you keep your eyes off of them as you ride side by side with Arthur.
“You think they’ll know?” You blush, eyes flickering up to the entrance of camp. You slow Athena down into a walk as you stare into the dark opening in the woods, leading you home.
“No sweetheart,” Arthur chuckles, “I don’t think they’ll know.” He smiles, regarding your shared night together.
“What about the girls? Oh god- what about Hosea? He’ll know.” You sigh, anxiety pulling at your chest.
“Well I gotta come back from the dead first.” Arthur chuckles.
“Can we keep this between us just for now? I don’t wanna hide it, but I can’t take the teasin’ from the girls, not yet.” You mumble, looking up to Arthur as he stops Balius, looking back to you.
“They been teasin’ you?” He asks, eyebrows pulling together lightly.
“No, well not really, but I just know it’ll be the camp talk and I can’t deal with that now.”
“Okay… anyone bothers you, just let me know. Well- actually, I know you can handle your own, but still, you need to talk, let me know.” Arthur mumbles, eyes flickering up and down over you bittersweetly before he clicks Balius to trot.
“Thanks Arthur.”
You continue following Arthur into the woods surrounding Horseshoe. You’re glad to be back, albeit a little nervous. You haven’t seen anyone but John since the train job, and you hope there's no hurt feelings that you declined to return with them. Suddenly a rustling in the bushes pulls your attention, and your head snaps to the left.
“Who’s there?” John’s familiar raspy voice calls out, and you smile for it as he steps around some bushes and trees.
“It's us, dumbass.” Arthur says, with a hint of a smirk on his lips. You watch as John steps out onto the trail, eyes going wide as he slings his rifle over his shoulders.
“Arthur? I’ll be damned,” John looks up to Arthur, extending his hand upwards, and they share a very brotherly handshake, “I’m glad you’re alright, brother.” John sighs, looking back to you with a deep nod in thanks for bringing him home.
“Yeah me too.” Arthur says, letting go of John’s arm and glancing toward the camp. It’s midday, and you can see a few people milling about but none notice you.
“Everyone’s real worried. You best head on in there.” John says, nodding towards camp. He follows the two of you as you walk your horses in. Arthur makes a note to thank John when you’re not around. John kept you alive, took care of you when Arthur couldn’t. He’ll owe the younger outlaw for that.
“Arthur?!” Marybeth calls. She’s carrying a pail of water across camp, and she drops it at her feet as you walk in, a little behind Arthur.
“Arthur, Star!” Hosea chuckles, clapping his hands together with a smile. Everyone’s attention directs to Arthur as he rides in, and a crowd forms at the front of camp when everyone realizes he’s alive
“Arthur- you’re alive!” Javier calls out, a big smile on his face. After Arthur dismounts, Javier slaps him on the back. Everyone riddles him with questions, pulling him into the crowd. Arthur glances back at you briefly as they pull him to the campfire, but you only smile, beckoning him to go on. John comes up beside you, sighing.
“How’d you find him?” He asks, and you huff.
“He found me, actually.” You chuckle, watching as Arthur sits at the fire next to Charles and Karen.
“He’s okay?” John asks, looking Arthur over, thinking of the fall.
“He’s saying he’s fine, but I know he’s in a lot of pain… you know how he is.” You respond, hitching the horses.
“I do.” John says as you pull his tent kit down from Balius. With a small blush, you strap it onto Old Boy.
“Your tent. Thank you by the way.” You explain, cursing Arthur in your head as you strap down the kit, “I reckon I’m gonna go unpack. I could use a bath.” You chuckle, bidding John goodbye as you walk towards your tent. Arthur’s eyes follow you with concern as you walk past the crowd, but you give him a smile, letting him know not to worry. You just don’t feel like socializing right now.
You part the white canvas, stepping inside and taking a deep breath. You’ve missed your little space. You run your fingers along your bedside table, stopping at the end and taking your guns off your shoulders, leaving just your holstered weapons on your person. Then reaching into your satchel until you find the familiar cardboard, you pull out a match, strike it against your boot and light two candles to brighten up your tent.
"Better." You hum.
You sit down on your cot, tucking one leg under your body as you reach into your satchel again, but this time you pull out your little journal. It's been quite a while since you've written in the ivory pages, and you flip to a fresh entry before pulling out your pen Arthur had given you from that man in Blackwater.
I thought he was dead. Guess the fear of losing him won over the fear of having him, because when he returned to me safely, having him was all I could manage to do. I poured my heart out to him finally, and he waited for me just as promised. Things are better now. I have hope.
A single tear drips down onto the page as your pencil hovers over the entry. Your head snaps upwards at the sound of three harsh knocks on the beam of your tent. Quickly you look up, seeing black boots from underneath the tent flaps. You wipe your eyes, quickly standing up.
"Come in." You call, and Dutch parts the canvas with one hand, stepping into your tent. His stature towers over you menacingly, there's an intention to his gaze, but you only sigh, turning your back to him as you tidy up your bedside table.
"Dutch." You greet curtly, moving some dried wildflowers and herbs to the top left corner of your table.
"Where have you been?" Dutch asks, jaw set. You turn your head around, looking at him like he's a fool.
"I've been at the river, looking for Arthur." You huff. Dutch hums deep in his chest, thinking over the information you've just given him.
"I heard the train was a mess." Dutch adds, eyes looking down at yours. You don't know what he's getting at, or where this is leading but he's really beginning to irritate you, and you grit your teeth.
"Clearly. Boys came home with three people instead of five. I'd say that's a mess." You bite, slamming a few homemade tonics onto the table a little harsher than necessary as you organize them. Dutch leans over you from behind just enough to grab one of the wildflowers from your table, a violet, and he spins it between his thumb and index finger.
"Why is that? What went wrong?" He asks.
"Cause the conductor was dead…? Didn't one of the boys fill you in on this?" You sigh.
"Yes, but I was hoping for the perspective of someone more… integral to the aftermath."
You turn around, and Dutch grips the violet tightly. He nearly has you trapped in and you can barely see over his large shoulder as he steps forward threateningly. You don't know what he wants or how to appease him.
"What do you want, Dutch?" You growl, back pressed tightly against your side table to avoid his touch. You glare daggers at him.
"I just find it mighty strange that the first real job I put you on, my best man manages to nearly get himself killed. He never misstepped before you came along. He's smart." Dutch growls, and you swear his lip curls.
"You're losing it Dutch." You huff, shaking your head, realizing that Dutch thinks you messed up the train job. As if what happened was your fault.
"No. I'm just trying to figure things out. I'm keeping my eyes on you, miss. I don't trust you yet." Dutch says, stepping one more step toward you. He places the violet behind your ear with a sickeningly satisfied smirk, and you shy away from his hands. Then Dutch is leaning down close to your face.
"Trust has to be earned." He hisses, chuckling deep in his throat. Your knuckles are white from where they grip onto the table behind you, back pressed tightly against the wood.
"Dutch?" A voice calls from the entrance to the tent. Arthur. You release a breath as Dutch backs away. His threatening glare turns like the flip of a switch into a charismatic smile. He turns around to Arthur then, smiling just the same.
"Arthur! Glad you're home, son. Oh and tomorrow I want you to go and get Micah. The boy has done his time." Dutch says, patting Arthur on the back as he walks through the tent exit. Left reeling, you pull the violet out of your hair and toss it onto the ground angrily. You shudder a breath, watching the purple flower on the ground.
"You okay? What the hell was that about?" Arthur asks, coming forward and looking you over.
You sigh, anger replacing coyness as you strut towards your bed, shoving your journal back into your satchel.
"He thinks that I- I don't know what he thinks- that I set up the train job? Or that it's my fault you fell somehow?" You huff, slamming the flap to your satchel as you sit down on the bed.
"He said that?" Arthur asks, stepping forward with his hands on his belt. He sits down on your bed next to you, looking at you with concern. He's not oblivious to the way Dutch seems to be slipping, even though he doesn't want to believe it.
"He implied it." You say, shaking your head. You can't believe Dutch, what he's blaming you for. What happened on the train was no one's fault, certainly not yours.
You cross your legs on the cot, sighing and leaning your head on Arthur’s shoulder. You've been back five minutes and Dutch has already ridiculed you.
Arthur leans into your touch, placing his palm on your thigh.
"Why don't we go into town for the rest of the day. They know I'm alive now. No harm in headin' out, no one expects us to be back runnin' just yet." Arthur suggests, and you look up to him, your head still resting against his warm arm.
"But we just got back… I don't want people to think we're slackin' off." You point out, leaning back from Arthur as he reaches into his satchel.
"Let them think, c'mon. We'll take the rest of the day for ourselves." Arthur adds, and your eyes widen as he pulls a thick wad of cash out of his satchel.
"This is yours. After everything, the boys did get the take." He says, taking your palm in his hand and placing the cash in it. Your eyes boggle as you take the cash, running your eyes over the sum.
"Jesus-" You whisper, counting out two thousand dollars, swallowing thickly.
"I can't keep this all Arthur, surely some should get spread around the camp." You say, eyes flickering up to him as you grip the money in your hand. Arthur chuckles, looking at the sparkle in your eyes.
"No, that's your piece. Half of the take goes to the camp, that little box behind Dutch's tent. The other half gets divided up between them who worked the job." Arthur explains, and you smile.
"I ain't never had this much money in my life… what should I buy?" You ask, glancing up to him with a smile that warms his heart.
"Why don't we get your guns fixed up, engraved to your likin'?" Arthur suggests and your eyes twinkle.
"And a bath?" You ask.
"And we'll get you a bath." Arthur chuckles, his hand on the small of your back, "C'mon gather your things. It'll be fun, just the two of us." Arthur helps you up, and walks to the exit of your tent. Just as he parts the canvas, he stops and turns back to you.
"And Star?" He asks.
"Hmm?"
"Pack a bag. We'll rent a room for the night." He winks at you, and then he's gone outside as your breath shudders. A shiver runs up your spine, and you turn to your wardrobe to avoid the distraction.
You rummage through your things, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes, knowing you won't be needing them until the morning. You grab your carbine, swinging it over your shoulder before heading out.
When you exit the tent, you scan the area, and find Arthur tightening the straps on Athena's saddle. With a smile, you step forward, but are almost knocked over by Strauss as he scurries in front of you.
"Asshole." You hiss under your breath, following after him towards Arthur.
"Herr Morgan!" Strauss calls out, and you see Arthur roll his eyes from behind Athena.
"Whatchu want?" Arthur grumbles, patting the mare lightly before stepping around her, towards you.
"I have a debtor for you." Strauss says plainly, and your stomach turns sour.
"Name?" Arthur asks, and your brows wrinkle as you look up to him.
"His name is Thomas Downes, a farmer. A failing one at that. He owes us quite a lot. I trust you'll get that money back by whatever means possible?" Strauss asks, hinting to the beating you're sure will fall upon the man, the same beatings your father died from.
"Arthur…" You whisper, glancing between the two men. You won’t tell him what to do, he’s an adult, but your mind begs him not to go. Your father was a debtor, and you suffered for it. You know nothing good comes from the loaning business. Arthur turns back to you for a moment, biting his cheek. He looks over you quickly, and then turns back to Strauss with a sigh.
“No. I’m takin’ the lady out for the afternoon. Do your own damn dirty work, or find someone else.” Arthur bites back, harsher than you’d expected. You’re proud of the man for standing up for himself, something he seems to struggle with when the gang comes calling. You’re proud of him for choosing not to beat a man to death over a few odd dollars like they did to your daddy.
“But Herr Morgan-” Strauss says, walking after you both. Arthur places his hand in your lower back, urging you onto Athena.
“No, now shut up. Go bother someone else with your loanin’.” Arthur growls, leaving no room for Strauss to argue. Like a wounded animal, he sulks back to his tent.
“C’mon, I’ve been here an hour and I’m about sick of this place.” Arthur sighs, clambering up into Balius’s saddle.
— — —
You swing Athena’s reins over the hitching post as you dismount, stepping up onto the sidewalk as you wait for Arthur. The saloon is loud for the early hour, and your stomach turns at the sight of it. You’ve hitched the horse’s down in front of Nils’ blacksmithing shop, leaving them closer to the hotel for later. You smile at Arthur as he dismounts, coming up to the sidewalk with you.
“Whatchu wanna do first? Go to the gunsmith?” Arthur asks, looking down the street. You’re about to open your mouth when a deep, booming voice calls to you from behind.
“Miss!”
You turn around with a confused look, but it blossoms into a smile when your eyes land upon Mr. Geddes, the man who works with Nils.
“Mr. Geddes, good to see you again.” You offer as he shakes your hand.
“I'm afraid I didn’t catch your name, miss.” Mr. Geddes says, and you blush, put on the spot. You tell him your real name, and Arthur glances down at you with some confusion. You never use your real name with strangers, but for some reason you trust Mr. Geddes.
“And this is Arthur Morgan, my… my- suitor.” You chuckle, put on the spot. You blush at the term, hoping Arthur won’t mind it. What are you supposed to call him? Your friend? The man you’re in love with? You bite back a laugh.
“Yes, that would be me.” Arthur huffs, shaking Mr. Geddes’ hand.
“Ah, I see you’re the lucky recipient, it’s a fine piece. Handmade.” Mr. Geddes points to the decoration on Arthur’s hat, and Arthur nods.
“I just wanted to say hello, you two have a fine afternoon.” Mr. Geddes says, tipping his hat.
“Thank you Mr. Geddes.” You offer as he raises a hand, stepping back towards his shop. With that, you start walking towards the gunsmith, leaving Arthur catching up.
“Who in the hell was that?” Arthur asks, walking quickly to keep up with you.
“Mr. Geddes, he works with the blacksmith, got a bunch of land I guess, sells a lot of tools.” You shrug, explaining all you know about the man.
“Seemed awful excited to see you.” Arthur points out and you smirk. Is he… jealous?
“Most are, Arthur.” You smile at your sarcasm, “He’s a kind fella. Helped me out when I got your hat ornament.” You explain, and Arthur hums.
“Quit bein’ so sour, we’re on a date.” You say, falling into step with him.
“Well I hope I’m doin’ good, y'know, since I’m your suitor and all.” Arthur chuckles and you roll your eyes.
“I was put on the spot, what else was I supposed to say?” You laugh, pushing open the door to the gunsmith.
“I don’t know.” Arthur admits, voice getting quieter now that you’re inside.
“What can I do for you fine folks?” The gunsmith asks, a middle aged, dark haired man.
“Gettin’ the lady’s guns cleaned and engraved to her likin.” Arthur says for you, and you pull your carbine over your shoulder, placing it on the table. You blush at the state of it. It’s a fine gun, but it’s never been upgraded and you don’t clean it like you should.
“She gets a lot of use, huh?” The gunsmith asks regarding your weapon and you nod.
“Mounted shooting, bit of a hobby.” You lie with a smile, and Arthur raises an eyebrow at the way your lie slips through so naturally. You make a fine outlaw.
“Really?” The gunsmith asks, in awe, “Bet you have a good nag for that.” He chuckles, and you nod.
“Yes, the best.”
He flips your gun around, looking at the barrel.
“Okay I can do a lot with this. I’ll give it a proper cleanin’ and if you want we can improve the stocks and barrel. Anything you like, really. On the matter of the engravin, we have a few styles and colors to choose from. If you get an engravin’ on the grip, you can put somethin’ big like an animal. I got a real fine artist, he can do whatever you like.” The gunsmith explains as you place your revolver on the counter as well.
“Here’s some samples, go ahead n’ look through them and let me know about any upgrades.” The gunsmith says, stepping back. He grabs a case of gun oil from his counter and gets to work taking your carbine apart.
“There’s so many options…” You whisper to Arthur, looking through colors of leather for stock wraps, and examples of engravings. Arthur nods, looking at the table over your shoulder.
“Take your time, find somethin’ you like.” Arthur says.
You flip through the samples for a while, but eventually you pick a dark, walnut colored leather stock wrap, and you pick some engravings.
“I want this leather, but..” You put the engraving samples aside, “You said your engraver can do anything?” You ask.
“Sure.”
“Can I get constellations?” You ask, biting your lip, hoping that he’ll be able to.
“Of course! I think old William will find it to be a nice change of pace. Anything else?” The gunsmith asks, and you tap your foot, looking down to your revolver.
“Do all the improvements on both guns, and can I get the constellations on this one too?” You ask, sliding the revolver across the counter.
“Course!” He says, taking your weapon and unloading it.
“Oh! And a wolf.” You add, and Arthur smirks behind you, “That’s all, I swear it.”
“No problem at all, miss. I reckon you’ll be able to pick these up in the morning. William should be done by then.” The gunsmith says, brushing down the interior of your carbine’s barrel.
“Thank you, mister.” You smile brightly, looking at Arthur then. It feels damn good to have enough money to buy yourself something nice for once, something more than the bare minimum. You have nice clothes, a nice horse, nice weapons. It feels good. Arthur leads you out of the gunsmith then, and starts walking across the street towards the Keane’s saloon, avoiding Smithfield’s like the plague.
“Hungry?” Arthur asks.
“A little.” You admit, walking side by side. A wagon rolls passed, and you wait, letting them go on before continuing across.
“C’mon, let's get somethin’ to eat.” Arthur says, hand on the small of your back as you cross the street.
Keane’s saloon is smaller than Smithfield’s. It was the original town saloon, and when Smithfield’s opened, it took all the business away, leaving Keane’s in the dust. When you enter, there are only two patrons in the entire bar, a finely dressed man sitting at the bar with no drink in hand, and a clearly wasted man, armed to the teeth with iron, throwing up in the can. You wrinkle your nose, walking up to the bar with Arthur.
There is a little menu on the counter that reads: Beer, Whiskey, Lamb fry, Oatmeal.
“I’ll have a lamb’s fry, the lady can get what she wants, it's on my tab.” Arthur says, pulling out a handful of dollars.
“The oatmeal.” You hum, curiously side-eyeing the man at your side. He’s staring at Arthur, specifically the guns strapped to his hips, and some sweat collects on your forehead with anxiety.
“N’ a beer and a whiskey.” Arthur finishes up, handing over enough cash to cover the current tab. His hand reaches to hold your elbow, but you don’t let him pull you away from the bar. Instead, you turn to the well dressed man, a little fella with too much pomade in his balding hair.
“Can I help you?” You ask, sounding irritated. If there’s a problem, you’ll handle it. There’s no reason for the man to be openly staring at his weapons, unless he recognizes you both, or wants trouble.
The man is shaken out of his trance, looking up at you from his seat at the bar. He looks mighty nervous when he sees the irritated look on your face.
“I was wondering if you could, actually. That man over there, he’s a fine gunslinger- Jim Boy Calloway. Im writin’ a book about his adventures, getting the first hand account of his old gang. I have one person left to interview, but I can’t go after her. Surely, she’ll kill me!” He says, getting awfully worked up. You glance across the room to the throwing up man. He's scrawny and weak, old, and the revolvers on his hips are nothing more than rust.
“Sorry, he’s a famous gunslinger?” You chuckle, pointing to the inebriated fool in the corner.
“Yes! Best draw in the west! – Oh! How rude of me not to introduce myself, Theodore Levin, pleased to meet you.” He says, and you nod, taking his offered hand. Arthur is watching the scene play out carefully from behind you, leaning on the bar while drinking his beer. You don’t introduce yourself.
“Now I see those holsters, miss. You haven’t gotten me fooled so easily! Are you a gunslinger too? And a lady! How perfect, you must go after the Black Belle!”
“A gunslinger?” You chuckle, “Nothin’ of the sort.” You say, taking the whiskey as the tender sets it down on the bar.
“Who’s the Black Belle, anyway?” You ask, bringing the drink to your lips. Levin’s eyes light up.
“She’s a gunslinger- she's incredible. A woman outlaw– who would have thought a woman capable?” He says, amazed. You squint at him, quelling the rage in your stomach. The man’s clearly a fool, you don’t hold it against him.
“Oh– I didn’t mean a thing by it!” He quickly recovers. Arthur puts his beer down on the table a little harsher than necessary, coming up behind you. He stands at your back, one hand on your waist as he addresses the man.
“We’re actually on a date of sorts, so if you could kindly leave us be, I’d appreciate it, friend.” Arthur hisses, and you smirk at his coin ‘friend.’ You love when he does this.
“I’ll pay you! Handsomely!” Levin stumbles over his words, pulling out a few pieces of paper and a pen. You sigh, rolling your eyes lightly before looking to the back of the saloon to see if your food is nearly done.
“Whatchu want?” Arthur asks, encouraged to continue by the offer of money.
“Find Black Belle and ask her about Jim Boy Calloway.” Levin says, emphasizing the annunciation of the ‘gunslinger’s’ name.
“Why?” Arthur asks, leaning back on the bar. Levin sighs, already having answered this question.
“I'm writing a book about him and I need her accounts!” He explains again, and you nod.
"Here's her picture and some important information including her last known location and my P.O. box. If you find her, I'll need a quote and a picture! Do you have a camera mister?" Levin explains and asks, handing you a small envelope with a few items in it. You take it, tucking it away neatly in your satchel.
"Yeah, I got a camera." Arthur replies, sounding frustrated.
"Thank you, we'll think on it." You smile. Jim boy Calloway stumbles from the can, slurring his words and cursing as he stumbles out the front door.
"Oh my… I uh- Best of luck to you now!" Levin smiles, worriedly rushing towards the door, yelling after the old gunslinger.
You turn to Arthur with a chuckle and a raised eyebrow.
"What an odd man." You huff.
"Very odd- now, go find a seat. I'll bring your food over." Arthur says, and you nod.
You take your drink and walk towards the window, hearing Arthur mutter something about having you to himself for five goddamn minutes. You can't help but laugh. Besides, he'll have you to himself plenty come nightfall, you're sure.
At the thought, you glance out the window, taking a seat at a table beside it. Wagons roll by, and orange light filters through the glass from the sun resting behind the tops of the mountains. It's beautiful.
Arthur watches from across the room, an uptick of a smile on his lips, the kind that makes his crow's feet wrinkle lightly. The light covers you like a halo as you watch the people go by, looking out the window with curiosity.
"Oatmeal n' lamb." The barkeep hollers, placing the two dishes on the countertop. Arthur balances the plate and bowl, all while holding his beer and silverware as he comes over to you.
"Good spot." He says, placing everything on the table.
You take your spoon, watching carefully as he sits down with a groan and a wince.
"You hurting?" You ask, concerned. Arthur shakes his head, brushing it off as he grabs his fork.
"Nah, nothin' I can't handle." He mumbles, and you bite your cheek, making a note to keep an eye on it. Maybe you can stop at the general store on the way to the hotel, get him something for the pain. You're sure it's bad.
"I worry about you, y'know." You say, poking at your oatmeal with your spoon. Arthur eats his lamb, taking big bites.
"There's nothin' to worry about, Star. I'm alright, just a little sore." He reassures you.
"I'll get you something for the pain on the way to the hotel." You say, and he nods. He'll let you take care of him, he knows it'll ease your worries.
"You actually wanna go find that woman? The Black Belle or something?" Arthur asks, taking a bite of his food.
"Maybe. The money's good, I doubt old Levin wants to swindle us, but we should wait till we're out of Valentine first." You sigh, bouncing your knee as you push your oatmeal around your bowl. You're itching to get out of Valentine. As much as you love Horseshoe Overlook and its good memories, new and old, you don't like how close the law is. They're nearly breathing down your neck.
"What's wrong? You're barely pickin." Arthur points out. He's finished nearly half his plate, and you've done nothing but push yours around. You sigh, placing your spoon down on the table. A hundred things run through your mind.
"Just worried is all. Dutch, you gettin' Micah, the Pinkertons, we should have left already, Arthur. Then we hit that train and there's a lot of noise. What if they find us?" You whisper, voice quiet.
Arthur puts his fork down and takes your hand in his across the table. He looks right in your eyes, swearing to you.
"They won't find us. We're leavin' soon, I promise you. But tonight, don't worry about all that. It's a problem for tomorrow, todays about you and me." Arthur offers, squeezing your hand lightly. You nod quietly, picking your spoon up as you start to eat. The oatmeal is good and warm, and it fills you up quickly.
You and Arthur chat, eating together until your plates are both empty. When your bowl touches the wood, you squint, noticing the scuff marks and imprints on the table. You pick your bowl up, inspect underneath it, and smile. It's clear the table has been used for games. Games involving losing some fingers and earning some money.
“You wanna play five finger filet?” You smile devilishly, placing your bowl off to the side before pulling your knife out. Arthur looks down at the table, then up to you and immediately shakes his head.
“No- No.” Arthur argues, and you huff, rolling your eyes.
“Star–” Arthur begins before you interject him.
“What? Can’t handle it, cowboy?” You joke, scooching your chair back before stabbing your knife into the center of the table.
“I don’t want you slicin’ a goddamn finger off.” Arthur grumbles, and your shoulders slump. The barkeep watches from behind the bar, a smile on his face as he polishes glasses.
“I thought you were fun.” You pout.
“In my younger years.”
“Just one round?” You plead. Arthur sighs, clearing the table before grabbing your knife from the table.
“Alright. Just one.” He says, grabbing his pocket watch and placing it on the table.
Arthur goes first, and you watch the clock as he does. As the clock ticks down from thirty seconds, Arthur starts the pattern, hitting the table every time and not his fingers. He goes at a decent pace, but you know you can beat it. He gets six rounds before the second hand hits thirty, and you stop him.
“Six.” You smile, and he stabs the knife back into the center of the table, “You’re pretty good.” You admit with a smirk.
“Think you can beat me?” He asks, taking the golden watch from the old table.
“Oh, I know I can.”
You start quickly, and Arthur watches the time on the watch. Its hard to tell whether or not you’re going along faster than he did or not, but you focus your all into the game, trying not to lose any fingers in the process. When you hit five rounds you begin to smirk, then six… and then just before Arthur stops the clock, you get seven. You smile, holstering your knife.
“You’re gettin’ slow.” You joke, smiling as he rolls his eyes.
“That ain’t fair, you got smaller fingers than me.” Arthur complains, standing up from the table with you. You toss a five dollar bill on the table, rolling your eyes as he picks it up and hands it back to you before throwing his own bill down.
“Don’t be a sore loser.” You chuckle, walking towards the door, waving a hand at the barkeep.
Golden light filters over the mountaintops, casting the evening in a beautiful glow. The wagons and riders have mostly gone home, leaving the streets empty except for a few people enjoying the evening.
“I'm gonna stop at the general store quick, meet me at the hotel?” You ask, walking down the gunsmith’s side of the street. Arthur’s eyebrows pull together in confusion for a moment.
“Sure, you don’t want me to walk you?” He asks, and you chuckle.
“I can handle it just fine, have a maid start a bath for me.” You ask, placing your hand on his arm before letting go. He nods, walking down the sidewalk as you cross the street.
The general store has a few candles lit inside, so you push the door open, walking up to the counter.
“Evenin’ miss. We close in about thirty minutes, but take your time.” The shopkeeper greets you kindly. You nod, quickly looking over all that he has to offer before stepping up to the register.
“I won’t be a minute.” You smile, “You have a catalog mister?” You ask, and the man nods, reaching under the counter before pulling out a thick red book.
“Here’s the Wheeler and Rawson, we’ll deliver right to your home if you’d like.” He says, and you shake your head.
“That won't be necessary but thank you.”
You flip to the table of contents, running your eyes down the categories until you find the ‘tonics’ section. You flip to that specific page, looking over your options. You need something for pain, so you pick a health tonic, figuring the added herbs will help at least.
“I’ll take a health tonic, the regular one is fine.” You say, and the shopkeeper steps into a backroom to grab your item for Arthur.
You flip through the pages with your thumb, skimming over the pages when an image catches your eye. You stick your thumb on the page, looking over the clothes category. There, in the bottom corner, is an advertised silk robe. Its fancy, trimmings of lace on the cleavage, arms and along the bottom trim. It's long enough to touch the ground, and has a silk tie around the waist. It's hard to tell from the picture, but it looks very light, almost sheer due to its paleness. Your cheeks blush at the thought of you in it, and they burn at the idea of Arthur seeing you in it. It’s just a robe, you tell yourself, but hell is it a scandalous one.
The shopkeeper comes back with a dark green glass bottle of tonic, setting it in front of you while making a tab.
“Anything else you’d like?” The shopkeeper asks, and you look down to avoid his gaze.
“Yes just uh- this robe please. In white.” You ask nervously, but the shopkeeper remains professional, nodding and heading into the back. He comes back out with a decently small box; black, wrapped with a small white ribbon. The robe must be folded up inside. He places it next to the tonic, and adds it to your tab.
“That all for you, miss?” He asks and you nod, pulling a big wad of cash from your satchel. You glance down at the catalog, eyes going wide when you see the price of the robe- nearly one hundred dollars, but you figure it’ll be worth it.
“109.99 please.” The man asks, and you hand over 110. He gives you back your penny, and you stuff it all into your satchel, wondering if the passersby outside will somehow know what you’ve just purchased. You ignore it, taking your written receipt and heading out.
“Thanks mister!” You holler, pushing the door open.
You glance towards the blacksmith’s to where Balius and Athena are hitched, noticing that the stablehands have refilled the troughs and left them hay. Athena's golden ears pop up when she sees you walking across the street, and you smile at her before stepping onto the platform towards the All Saint’s Hotel.
You push the hotel door open with your new items tucked away in your satchel. Immediately upon entrance, the owner recognizes you, and you put your hand up to stop him from speaking.
“I don't want trouble. A man came in here about ten minutes ago, where is he?” You ask, cutting to the chase. The clerk seems to appreciate your honesty, nodding as he points down the hall.
“He rented a bath.” The man says, “Now I’m goin’ home for the night in an hour so miss, no trouble, please.” He pleads, and you roll your eyes at his repetition.
“You’ll get none from us.” You say, walking down the hallway.
Now that you’re familiar with the layout, having been here on more than one occasion, you go down to the bathroom. Your hand hovers over the wood, ready to knock, but you lower it, simply turning the door knob instead.
Lavender scented steam wafts out the door upon you opening it, and you inhale deeply as you step inside. Arthur is kneeling on the ground, his shirt sleeves rolled up as he swishes his hand around in the sudsy water, stirring up the bubbles. Rose petals and oats float on the surface of the water, and it smells as if he's put lavender oil in the bath as well. You shut the door behind you, and Arthur’s head pops up at the noise.
“I can leave if you like.” Arthur says, standing up from the ground, “I was just gettin’ the water ready.”
“Isn’t there a bath maid for that? Or a working woman?” You ask. Typically someone gets the water ready. You feel bad he’s had to do it himself.
“Yes,” Arthur gestures to the bath, “but I know you like the lavender soap, and the water real hot so I told them I’d take care of it.”
You smile at him, taking care of you like a gentleman, and then remember that you have to take care of him too.
“I got you something for your pain.” You mention, carefully reaching around the ribbon tied box in your satchel to grab the tonic. Arthur huffs.
“You didn’t have to, I'm alright-”
“Please just drink it Arthur, it would make me feel better.” You explain, and he smirks, taking the bottle before popping the cap off and taking a long swig. He makes a sour face, but drinks enough down before stuffing it into his satchel.
“Thank you.” He says, tipping his head.
Arthur moves for the door, wiping his hands on a hand towel, but you grip his forearm, stopping him before he can step out.
“Don’t go.” You plead, grip tight on his arm. When he turns to catch your eyes, he can see how much you want him to stay. So of course he does. He'd move the heavens or fetch you the moon if you asked him to.
Arthur takes his time undressing you. He unties your little neckerchief first, setting it neatly on the dressing table before he moves to the bigger items of your clothing. With the adrenaline from your crashing together gone, you find yourself a bit self conscious as he strips you of your clothes, but you say nothing. Your breath shudders against him as he undoes the buttons of your shirt, it’s something he picks up on immediately.
“You’re nervous.” He points out. You nod lightly.
“A little.” You admit, thinking of what the rest of the night will entail. You were too worried about his safety last night, you didn’t have time to doubt yourself or feel insecure.
“S’okay. Let’s just get you cleaned up, we don’t gotta do anythin’ sweetheart.” He offers quietly, and you nod. He pulls your shirt down over your arms, eyes running over your body.
“So perfect…” He whispers, thumb rubbing circles over the skin below your breasts. You smile at his compliment, some of the anxiety falling away before he lowers you into the bath.
The water is hot, the perfect temperature as your skin meets its embrace. The tub is deep, and the water comes just over your breasts once you relax against the lip of the tub. The aroma of lavender swirls through your head, replacing any remaining anxiety with bliss. Arthur gets back on his knees beside the tub, and your hand snakes out from the soapy water to rest on top of his.
“This is perfect, thank you.” You sigh, eyes slipping shut. There is a nice, tooled slat of wood over the bath, and on it is a small assortment of soaps and a half filled decanter of whiskey. It looks expensive
the crystal reflects the firelight beautifully, shimmering and sparkling like snow in fresh light. Arthur picks up the crystal decanter and pours two glasses. You sit up to take the one offered to you, sipping the burning liquid. Arthur dips a small pail into the water, filling it completely.
“Close your eyes, darlin’.” Arthur says just over a whisper, and you set your drink down before slipping your eyes shut. Warm water cascades down your hair and back, but none gets on your face or eyes from the hand Arthur uses to shield them. He rinses your hair until it's completely drenched before placing the bucket down.
There is a rose scented bar of soap on the bath table, and Arthur grabs it, lathering it between his hands. Then his hands are entangled into your hair, scrubbing and scratching at your scalp as you moan. Arthur chuckles at your reaction, his fingers working delicately to scrub your hair, getting your scalp thoroughly clean all the way.
“That smells so good.” You exhale, eyes closed as Arthur fills the pail again and begins rinsing your hair out. After a handful of rinses, your hair is all clean and he brushes through it with his fingers. Once he’s done, you look up to him, overcome with the emotion of him taking care of you. No one has ever treated you so kindly. You look into his green eyes. They are unnoticing of your gaze, directed to where he sets the bucket down.
“Kiss me.” You plead, arms resting on the side of the bath as you lean over the metal lip. Arthur leans forward, his hand lining your cheek as he takes your lips. You tilt your head, opening your mouth as Arthur gives you butterflies, yet again. When he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours with a question.
“Back when I was in here, after Tommy… You almost kissed me. Why didn’t you?” Arthur asks. He realizes it's unimportant now, but he’s still curious. You had pulled away from him, and then curled into his bed the same night. Your head falls some, and you play with your hands under the murky water.
“Guess I was just afraid… of hurting you or getting hurt.” You admit out loud, and it feels good to get off your chest. Arthur sees the sadness creeping onto your face, and he's quick to fix it.
“None a’ that dancin’ around matters now.” Arthur whispers, index finger hooking under your chin, pulling you to plant one small kiss to your lips. You could kiss him forever and never get used to it.
He picks up the rose scented bar again, reaching behind him to grab a washcloth. You watch the bubbles pop under his touch as he lathers the cloth, dipping it under the murky water again. You slip your eyes closed, relaxing fully as he runs the cloth over your neck and chest.
His hand heats up the washcloth all on its own as he spreads the soap across your body. Silently, with a wrinkle of concentration, he cleans you up. Your wet skin glistens in the firelight, goosebumps rising on your arms
“You just wanna relax for a bit longer?” Arthur asks, and you nod, sinking deeper into the bath.
"Okay, sweetheart. Take your time, just come knock on the door when you're finished. I got the big room, 1A."
"I'll be right up." You smile, bringing your knees up to your chest under the water.
Arthur wipes his hands on the hand towel before walking out of the room. Your eyes flicker to your satchel resting on the little table beside your clothes, and you bite your lip, thinking of the bow tied box resting in it. Your fingers tap along the side of the bath for just a moment before you push yourself up, water dripping down from your hair as you step out of the tub.
The bath towel is big and soft on your skin, wrapping you up completely as you dry yourself and your hair as best as you can. Then the gray cotton slumps to the floor as you drop it, stepping forward to the table.
The box is of fine quality, and you pull the white ribbon, watching it release until it flutters to the ground. You pull the top of the box off, revealing the white silk robe. It's absolutely stunning, even more beautiful than in the catalogue as you pull it out.
You smile as you pull it over your shoulders, tying the silk ribbon at your waist before moving to the mirror. White silk cascades down from your hips, pooling on the floor in a small train. The lace on your chest and arms isn't scratchy, but soft, and it leaves just enough to the imagination. It's absolutely indecent to wear anywhere but to bed, but you have a few plans in mind. Smiling at yourself in the mirror and bouncing on your toes, you move to the door.
The hotel clerk should have gone home by now, but you still crack the door open and peek your head out. You hear nothing and see no one, so quietly you step out. The door clicks behind you, and you gather your silk skirt in your hand, scurrying into the hallway and up the stairs as quickly as possible. The wood is cold on your bare feet as you carry all your items, smiling and feeling like a schoolgirl as you run up the empty staircase.
You know he's waiting for you, and you wonder if he has anything else planned or if he's waiting to take you to bed. Either way, you smile, reaching the top of the steps and turning left. The door labeled 1B reaches your eyes, and you raise your hand to knock.
"Arthur? It's me." You whisper, knocking lightly on the door. You hear footsteps approaching before the door unlocks. You fix your robe quickly, pulling the cleavage down just a little, before the door opens.
"You enjoy your…?" Arthur pauses, eyes on yours before he slowly trails them down your figure. He swallows thickly, seeing the way the silk clings to your body before pooling to the ground past your hips. His eyes flicker up to the lace at your cleavage, and he blushes something fierce, reaching for your hand.
"Star.. you look- where did you get this?" He chuckles, blushing even further as he rubs some of the silk between his fingers.
"The store." You smile, hair falling down in front of your face as you look down at yourself.
"You look incredible." He whispers, hand resting on your waist. It's then that he realizes all that you're carrying, and he curses himself, taking your satchel and boots from your hands
"Shit- I'm sorry. Here, let me take your things." Arthur whispers, setting everything down on the dresser. You step inside, hands toying together as you wait.
"I got one more thing planned, c'mon." Arthur smiles proudly, taking your hand.
You walk side by side as he leads you down the hall. You pick up your skirts again, and you notice the way Arthur looks down at you on multiple occasions, groaning ever so lightly in his chest.
He leads you to the end of the hall, and out the door onto the back porch. It's just a small platform, and the only way to go is down the stairs. When you look over at Arthur, he's eyeing the roof, and your eyes go wide.
"Forgive me for not havin' a proper way to get you up here." Arthur chuckles and you roll your eyes.
"I ain't never been proper, now help me up." You joke, watching him jump up and grab the roof. He pulls himself up with a surprising amount of ease.
"You climb buildings often?" You laugh as he leans down and takes your hand.
"Usually, when I'm robbin' 'em." Arthur huffs, pulling you up as gently as he can manage. Eventually you not so gracefully land on the roof. It's flat, and from it you can see the the tops of The Grizzlies, the entire way down to the plains in Blackwater. You stare in awe, stepping closer to the edge as you look out over the town and the miles of nature beyond.
"It's beautiful." You whisper as Arthur stands behind you, pulling your back to his chest.
"Sure is." Arthur mumbles, eyes on you as his hands grip your waist.
"Got some chocolate n whiskey." Arthur says, and you turn around curiously.
You hadn't even noticed the decent sized, thick blanket resting in the middle of the roof, or the bottles of Tennessee whiskey and the chocolate bar. Your lips form into a pout as you step forward, robe swaying in the breeze as you lay down on your back.
"Come sit with me." You ask of him, and he comes forward, resting beside you on the blanket.
You lay beside him, hands resting on your stomach as you look up at the sky.
"Been a while since I looked at 'em." You point out, eyes running over the bright stars. You look over the clusters, how they shine and shimmer, wondering if that same shine still resides in you.
"I noticed." Is all he says.
"Which is your favorite?" You ask, finding lupus and locking your eyes on his howling figure.
"My favorite star?" He asks, looking over to you.
"Well, yeah, star- or your favorite constellation." You clarify.
"Never really thought much about it." He says, and then it grows quiet. So much has changed since Tumbleweed, and yet you stare up at the same stars you looked at all that time ago. It frightens you, knowing how badly things have gone in such a short amount of time.
"What now, Arthur?" You ask, taking the chocolate and breaking it into pieces, "Where are we goin'? What is Dutch's grand plan?" You ask. Arthur sighs, the same worries clouding his head.
"Well, we're supposed to be headin' out west. We still are, if we can get around the law." Arthur explains.
"And if we can't?"
"Dutch has a plan. He'll get us outta this, he always does." Arthur says, his faith to Dutch shows, blind as it may be.
"What else is on your mind?" Arthur asks, hand gripping yours from where it rests between your bodies. You hold his hand on your abdomen, playing with his fingers to distract yourself.
"Tell me about Mary." You blurt out. You don't regret it though. Now that you're together, the matter of his ex-fiancé sending him letters is something that should concern you. Arthur stills beside you, and then his head turns, looking to your eyes.
"Okay I will, but you gotta give me somethin' too. No more closin' off." He mumbles, and you nod. You don't have anything to hide from him anymore.
Arthur sits up on the blanket, and you follow suit, grabbing one of the whiskey bottles and setting it in front of him. He undoes the cap, bringing the bottle to his lips before handing it back to you.
"Well Mary n' I met when we was real young, even before Eliza. I was just a kid- eighteen." Arthur sighs. You take a drink from the whiskey bottle, savoring the burn, and hand it back to him.
"We were fools, living separate lives. We wanted different things entirely, but still eachother somehow. She was high society. I'd been runnin' with Dutch for three years, was still learnin' to read and write." Arthur laughs humorlessly.
"Asked her to marry me, she said yes. But her daddy didn't like me one bit. He said I was a 'no good degenerate'. Guess he was right on that account."
"He was not right." You correct, stealing back the whiskey and drinking some down. Owls hoot in the distance, and your head looks in their direction for just a moment before you return to Arthur.
"He treated me real bad; humiliated me, scolded me. Came a point where Mary broke it off. Said her daddy wouldn't allow her, but she also didn't want my life or my money. Just… didn't work out." He sighs.
Your eyes flicker from the bottle you've just handed him up to his eyes, sensing the deep, old pain.
"Did you love her?" You ask, pulling your legs closer to yourself.
"Thought I did. It's different, I guess. Back in that time I thought I loved her, but it weren't like-" He trails off, shaking his head.
He thought that he loved Mary, but Arthur never loved her like he loves you.
You swallow thickly, wondering if those were the words on the tip of his tongue. Either way it doesn't matter, he never says them.
"You ever been in love?" Arthur asks, and you frown, playing with the lace cuff of your robe.
"No." You state plainly.
"Why?" Arthur asks, eyebrows pulling together. He was surprised to find out that you had never taken to a man, and he's even more surprised to find that you've never loved one. He hands you the whiskey, sure you need it.
"I stayed home most of my childhood. Didn't get much chance to meet boys. Momma home schooled me, so I didn't have school mates." You take a swig of whiskey, slipping your eyes closed as it burns a trail down your throat.
"Never had the chance to fall in love really. After my daddy died and I killed that man, I- I never got close to no one." You admit, hoping he won't judge you for being on your own for so long. When you glance up, you find no judgment, just understanding.
"And how long we're you runnin? You didn't run with anyone? You didn't have anyone with you at all?" Arthur asks, wondering how you navigated it all on your own. He sees a whole new strength to you, and begins to understand why you have so many walls up.
"About a year, I think." You admit, a tear slipping down your cheek that you wipe away, "You're the first person I ever opened up to."
Your lip trembles, looking up to him with watery eyes. It frustrates you, how much you've been crying lately, and you huff, wiping them away with your sleeve.
"Stayed closed off to avoid gettin' hurt and hurtin' others. It worked… till you came along." You chuckle, a smile breaking through your tear-tracked face.
He takes one of your hands, soothingly running his thumb over your knuckles. Amongst your upset, the shoulder of your robe has slipped down your shoulder, and Arthur leans in to fix it so you're not left indecent.
"Can I ask you somethin'?" Arthur asks. You nod, he can ask anything at all.
"Your daddy… You said he was real mean after he took to the bottle?" Arthur asks, and you nod, unsure of where he's going.
"Yes." You say, not following his train of thought.
"He ever hurt you?" Arthur asks, and you look down to his hand on yours, avoiding his gaze.
"Sometimes, yes, when he was drunk."
"Why did you fight for him, Star?" Arthur asks, voice quiet. Your eyes flicker up to his green ones, and you look almost offended by his ask.
"What do you mean?" You ask, a bit defensively.
"When my daddy died, I reckon it was the first good day a' my life." Arthur admits, swallowing heavily, "It was me that got the law." Arthur admits, searching your eyes for any hatred or disgust and finding none. He's never told a soul that, not even Dutch or Hosea. It was a secret he was sure he'd die with. Your eyes go wide, your hand stills on his.
"What?" You ask, not fully grasping what he's just said from the shock of it all.
"I set him up so he got hanged… Didn't put the rope around his neck, but I killed him just the same." Arthur says, no sense of regret in his eyes.
"I don't regret it, never did. So I'm just askin, why did you get revenge for your Pa if he was hurting you?" Arthur asks, and you're so thrown off by his question that you pull away from his touch, shaking your head. He's got this all wrong.
"I… After Momma died, all I had was memories. My daddy was hurtin', drunk and mean, but he was still my daddy, the same man who taught me to ride and shoot. He used to be kind before the drink got a hold of him." You whisper, tears welling in your eyes, but you don't let them fall.
"I guess I wasn't just takin' revenge for my daddy, but for what could have been. I could have been raised up good by my parents, gone to some ladies school or somethin." You laugh, but it's shortlived.
"They'd be real disappointed if they could see me now." You admit, thinking over your actions, your bounty and the growing number of victims you've left behind.
"No, no they would not be disappointed in you." He says, hands grabbing each of yours as he reassures you. You nod, trying to listen to his reassurances. He pulls you forward on the blanket until you're resting in between his legs, leaning against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against him.
"I'm proud of you for talkin' about it." Arthur whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair.
"It's not so hard, talkin to you." You admit to him. From his arms, you glance up at the sky and see a shooting star, it zips across the skyline before the fire dies out, and turns to nothing. When you glance over, you see Arthur is looking as well.
"What's your wish?" You whisper against his warm skin.
"Oh, I already got my wish, darlin." He whispers back, hand rubbing circles on your back.
— — — —
The door clicks shut behind Arthur, and your heart thrums in anticipation. You hear his spurs click as he walks up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. The bed is huge. Its thick, red comforter is welcoming from where it's sticking out in the middle of the room. On the wall adjoined to the headboard is a fireplace, with orange flames that heat the room. Albeit the fire, your body seems to be heating all on its own with Arthur’s arms around you.
“You tired?” He asks, and you shake your head.
“No.” You stutter, frustrated with the way you melt into putty in his hands. You turn around in his arms, hands sliding up to rest on his chest with a deep breath.
“Show me what you want.” Arthur whispers, hands gripping onto your waist. Looking up to him, seeing the dark look in his eyes, the freckles that dot across his face like stars in the sky, the smile lines from old and new joys, it seems painfully obvious what you want.
“I want you.”
And of course, he gives himself to you. He always will. His hands find the ties to your silk robe, and with one small tug to the sheer, snow colored silk, it falls to the ground. Without the rushed fear that pulled you both together last time, Arthur can really take his time looking you over. His eyes trail down your form, hands finding purchase on your waist.
“So beautiful.” He mutters, smiling when his eyes land upon your face. Your hair is still wet, forming small waves as it falls down your back. You practically glow, and the room is filled with the aroma of lavender as you step closer to him, infiltrating all of his senses. You lean on your tiptoes to kiss him, heels only hitting the ground once he leans down to take your lips. The kiss is not desperate like it was the night before, but instead, slow and passionate and wanting. Your lips are soft against his, meeting his pace.
He holds your chin, tilting it to the side before his tongue slips into your mouth. It’s like a flower blossoming for the second time. You’d thought surely nothing could top the emotion and the feelings you had last night, but you were wrong. Again, a tether pulls you two together, and it's so tight that you're sure nothing could pull you two apart. You reach for the buttons to his shirt. The little plastic circles pull apart from their keepers quickly, as if understanding the importance of their juxtaposition.
You pop the buttons out one by one, gasping as Arthur's lips connect with your neck. Your fingers pause for a moment as you take a moment to lean into his kisses, exposing your neck to him further. You whimper as Arthur slowly kisses your neck, feeling some suction and a small nip.
"Arthur, you're gonna leave a mark." You whisper, eyes fluttering as your hands still on his buttons. He pulls away only for a second.
"Good." He mumbles, lips kissing down to your collarbone where he repeats the same process.
"People will see." You point out, but your body betrays your mind, leaning into his touch with a moan. Your hands find the strength to continue pulling buttons out of keepers, making progress on the shedding of his clothes.
"Let 'em see." He hums against your skin, leaving a few dark marks.. He runs his thumb over the splotches, soothing the throb.
Once the last button is undone, you tug upwards at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it out from where it's tucked into his chaps. His hands run over your body, gliding and fondling and squeezing until you slide his plaid shirt down over his arms. Your hands run over the expanse of his chest, pausing once they reach the trail of dusty blonde hair that trickles down his abdomen and disappears under his jeans. He does the honors of taking his gun belt off, dropping it down to the ground before doing the same for his chaps. You step toward him, fingers wrapping around the zipper to his jeans as you pull down the metal, anticipation growing with each click.
"You're so beautiful…" Arthur whispers, leaning in to kiss your lips. Your heart flutters with anticipation and lust and love, but it's over too quickly as he pulls away again.
"My star." He ghosts over your lips with his thumb, eyes looking into each of yours.
You shudder, looking up to him with wide eyes before urgently finishing with the button on his jeans. He steps out of the denim, leaving the two of you completely bare again.
The fire in the mantle burns nearly as bright as the one in your abdomen, warming the room and yourself. Arthurs hands are on you as soon as he's free from his clothing. In one stride he comes forward, one hand gripping around your waist while the other cups your cheek. Your heart melts as he kisses you again, walking forward until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Alcohol has loosened your limbs and secured your confidence, you know what you want. So, with swollen lips and sparkling eyes, you nudge Arthur towards the bed.
"Ya sure?" Arthur asks, making sure you're comfortable taking charge. You nod, pushing him lightly down to the bed. Arthur sits up with his back against the headboard, and you look at him, feeling so lucky. Fate really managed to align the stars for the two of you.
Your eyes trail over his body, from his silk hair, his green eyes, following the trail of brown hair until they reach his member, standing big and tall. You swallow, glancing back up to Arthur.
"We got all night." Arthur reassures you, extending his hand out. You take his hand, and he pulls you forward as you climb onto the bed and sit over him on your knees. You're face to face, your head sitting taller than his because you're raised on your knees. You take a moment to drink him in, your soft hands running over his tanned skin.
Your hands find purchase on either side of his face, and you pull him up to kiss you. He tastes like whiskey, and the smell of lavender and rose swirls between the two of you. You moan into his mouth needily before he pulls away. Your head tosses back and your fingers intertwine into Arthur's hair as he kisses your left breast, massaging the other with his hand.
He pulls away a fraction of an inch, breath hot on your skin.
"This okay?" He asks, and you nod with your eyes slipped closed, pulling him back to your chest.
His tongue licks over your nipple, a new sensation and a tantalizing one. You moan, a high pitched whimper, and Arthur has to compose himself for a moment. His fingers that are pinching your soft skin release, and he trails them down over your hip, across your thigh…
You gasp when they brush against your core, and Arthur's chest shudders when he feels just how wet you are for him. Arthur doesn't move, and you grind against his finger, gripping onto him tightly as you moan.
"Please."
It's all it takes, and he slips a finger inside, curling it until he feels that swollen sweet spot. You grip onto his shoulders, the firelight dancing in your eyes as you moan.
"My beautiful girl…" Arthur mutters, his palm rubs against your clit as he works you, lips kissing every inch of skin that they can reach.
His words spur you on, and your nails dig into his shoulders. Not wanting to wake the whole town with your noises, Arthur crashes his lips against yours. You moan against his mouth, the fluttering in your core turns to waves as you approach a climax against Arthur's hands. At first you think you should wait, climax with him instead of on his fingers, but it feels too good to stop him. His other hand traces over your skin, squeezing your hip.
"Don't– Don't stop." You whimper against his lips, and Arthur focuses on keeping a steady pace for you. It builds and builds until inevitably it comes crashing down, and your whole body is racked with waves of intense pleasure.
You pull away from his lips to gasp and moan, hips grinding against his hand perfectly as your orgasm hits you. Arthur's member is hard against his stomach, twitching with every one of the moans you elicit. Your legs shake on either side of him, your head tossed back, exposing your throat. You look so beautiful atop him, and he's the proudest man in the world knowing that he's the only one you're like this for.
"Easy darlin', you're doin' so good." He mumbles against the skin of your throat as you come down, panting.
"Shit, Arthur. That was so– that was so good." You pant, resting your forehead on his own as you try and catch your breath.
“Let me know when you’re ready.” Arthur whispers, breaths mixing in with your own. You take a few minutes to recuperate, catching your breath and waiting for the tingling in your core to subside. Arthur waits until you tell him to continue, hands gripping onto your legs and hips, kissing your neck and chest.
“I’m ready.” You nod, and he adjusts himself underneath you. You raise your hips off of his lap, guiding him inside you as you slide down onto his length.
“Oh-” You moan, tossing your head back as you wince slightly from the stretch. He can reach much deeper in this position, and it'll take some getting used to.
“Y’okay?” Arthur asks in between a groan.
“Yes.” You moan, whimpering as you slide down a bit further.
“Just go slow, it’ll make it easier, n’ we can stop if you want.” Arthur whispers against your skin. With him sitting up, your chests are nearly against eachother, giving him the perfect vantage point to lean up and whisper into your ear,
“No, I don’t want to stop, I’m okay.” You quickly respond. You slide down slowly until he’s completely buried in you, moaning as he bumps into your sensitive sweet spot again.
Even the firelight reflecting on the walls feels as if it's intruding this moment as you start to rise on your knees, riding Arthur. He groans deep in his chest, and it spurs you to continue on. You go slow, and pull Arthur’s face up to yours in a needy kiss. He fights back his instinct to groan into your mouth, whilst you don’t even attempt to stop yours.
“Oh it feels so good-” You moan, and Arthur smirks against your lips, gripping your hips to stop your movements. At first you worry you’ve done something wrong, or he wasn’t enjoying himself, but all your worries melt away as he drags your hips back and forth over him.
Immediately you shudder, arms wrapping around to the back of Arthur’s head as he kisses and toys with your breasts. With the way he’s maneuvering your hips, his tip bumps into your swollen g-spot, and your clit drags against his pelvic bone, giving you an intense mixture of pleasure.
“How's this feel?” He whispers against your chest, and you arch your back, rocking against him.
“Oh- Arthur, good, so good, please don’t stop.” You stumble over your words as he looks up to you.
Your eyes are slipped closed, mouth formed into an ‘o’ as you moan and whimper from his touch. You grip onto him with just as much need as you had last night, but somehow this feels even more intimate, because it's twenty four hours later and you’re still choosing each other. The adrenaline and the fear have passed, but the one constant is the want. Be it emotional or sexual, you both want each other impossibly more than the day prior. Looking up at you now, Arthur is sure he’s in love with you, madly, desperately in love with you. What he had with Mary is a mere spark compared to the overwhelming burn that he feels for you. He won’t tell you, not until you’re ready to hear it but he knows.
He continues his ministrations, and you feel the now familiar fluttering in your gut.
“Oh, I’m close, don’t stop-” You mutter again, losing your composure as you stutter and moan, whimpering and gripping him as tightly as you can. Your walls constrict around him as you come undone again, something you didn’t even know was possible. You curse loudly, hips rocking against him at that same tantalizing pace until your orgasm peaks and falls.
“Good girl, that’s it.” Arthur coos as you pant. It doesn’t take long with those noises you make, plus the sight of you alone.
“I ain’t-” Arthur groans, eyes squinted shut as he grabs your hips tightly, “I ain’t gonna last much longer.”
You keep your pace, incentive coming from the sound of his groans that fill the room. You can feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, and you know he must be teetering. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you kiss him one more time, lips locking together in between hushed pants and moans. Arthur groans against your lips, and in a swift movement he pulls out of you. His hips buck against your stomach a few times before he finishes between your bodies, groaning loudly. Your foreheads still rest against one another’s, beads of sweat trailing down your skin and covering you both in a glistening sheen.
“Christ alive, Star.” Arthur exhales, and you smirk.
“I dread going back to camp… how will we keep quiet?” You ask, slowly climbing off of him with a wince as he gets up from the bed.
“That's a problem for later.” Arthur chuckles. He gets a wet rag, one he’d brought up from the bath house, and puts expert care in cleaning you up. He’s gentle, wiping away his spend from your belly until you’re back to your fresh clean state. He picks your robe up from the floor, handing it to you before grabbing his jeans.
“Come sit on the deck with me.”
You catch your silk robe, pulling it over your shoulders. Arthur parts the french doors straight from the room out onto the deck, and you watch as he leans over the rail, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his satchel.You follow him, tying the silk ribbon as you step outside.
“New pack. You do the honors.” Arthur mumbles, holding the open pack of cigarettes out to you. You choose the one in the top left corner, pulling it out, flipping it, and sticking it back in. Then he picks a separate cigarette, placing it between your lips before lighting a match and holding it up to the smoke between your lips.
“Today was perfect. I mean that. Thank you, for everything, Arthur.”
You pass the cigarette back and forth until its spent, and then you sit on the deck and talk for a while. Eventually he pulls you back through the french doors and rids you of your fine robe all over again. It’s the only night you know you’ll have him. You both reckon the gang will be leaving soon, and who knows where you’ll end up. But tonight, none of these worries plague your mind. Your only concern is Arthur, and the feel of his body on, under and in yours. You cling to him tightly, spending the entire night together until the sun begins to peak past the horizon. New days are coming, days where you don’t have to hide behind your feelings anymore.
taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow
series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know @rratman @eyelovie @mykneeshurt
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x female reader#rdr2 fanfic#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption two#rdr2#rdr2 arthur#rdr2 fandom
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𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐓𝟒𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐌?
By An Yoo-jung
3/25/30 18:00 ET
When I first found out about ST4RDOM and their music a year ago, I became obsessed with their songs once I heard it. Ever since, I have been a hardcore lover of their music and I even went to their concert in Seoul (god knows how much I love them 🫶🫶🫶🫶).
Recently a good friend of mine and I have been discussing our biases. While I personally love Nari because of the chaos she causes among the group, she argued that it was Vi who often schemed with Nari. You can probably guess that she liked Vi the most.
And now, we need you, the starries, to settle this debate (please vote for Nari, there's no way she can lose??).
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A/N ::: I seem to be only able to work on this when I'm tired. It's about 9:30 where I am and I'm ready for bed. Regardless. I accidentally made 2 little pretties for this part 6. Let's vote on which one we like the best! Drop your pick in the comments (#1 or #2).
C/W ::: Finishing up what they started: M->F oral, P->V implied (long night of sex implied also), aged up characters, implied lying, implied sneaking around, Kats seems a little jealous or unsure of letting reader go anywhere. If I missed anything, please let me know and I'll look into it. Thanks and enjoy!
WC ::: about 2,050
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VII
PART VI
He would take it from you and leave it with you. Just like you did. You took his heart and left yours in its place.
But he wasn't going to think about that right now. He was going to focus on making you feel good. On making you moan his name. On making you laugh again.
He reached your core and dipped his tongue between your folds, tasting you. He looked up at you and saw that you had your eyes closed. He licked and sucked at your clit, swirling his tongue around it before he pushed a finger inside you. "Fuck, y/n. You're so fucking soft ... feel s'good. Fuck I - missed this. You. I missed you."
"Oh, fuck, Kats. God. Yes. That's ... that's so good." You moaned and arched your back, pushing yourself further into his mouth. He smiled and kept going, adding a second finger and curling them up against your insides.
You could feel the pain slowly melting away. "Don't stop. Please, Kats, don't stop." You were panting and writhing under his touch.
He kept going, pushing you closer to the edge until you had tears running down the sides of your face. Your hands reached out and buried into his hair. You weren't sure if the tears falling were because you felt so good or feeling so bad. Regardless, you both kept at it until he'd teased your clit so much that if he so much as breathed on your sideways, you'd cum buckets.
"Kats," you sniffed, "Gonna - I -." If you said anything more he'd know you were on the sad side of this orgasm, despite it feeling so good. It reminded you of how good you'd always been when you're with him. In and out of the bedroom. This hurt more. Being under his tongue hurt more than standing next to him, fully clothed, in the living room. Dividing your goods between the two of you.
"I'm gonna make you cum, baby. I'm gonna make you cum so fuckin' hard. You won't know what hit you. Cum for me, y/n. Cum for me." He whispered. He kept sucking and licking and fucking you with his fingers until you were shaking and crying.
You grabbed onto the sheets and held your breath as the orgasm ripped through you. It felt like it lasted hours. Your legs were numb. Your chest was heaving.
You hadn't had an orgasm like that since the last time you'd been with him. When everything was normal and you didn't feel like a total stranger in his presence.
He crawled up and lay next to you, his eyes locked on yours. He wiped the tears from your face and kissed you gently. You both knew that this was just a band-aid for the bigger issue that was brewing.
But it was enough for now.
It was enough to just be with each other and not yelling about mistakes of the past.
You woke up to the sound of Katsuki's cell phone ringing on the floor next to the bed. You rubbed your eyes and turned to look at him. He was still asleep.
You knew that he had to get up and go to work. You knew that you should leave. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't bring yourself to get out of bed and walk out that door away from him after you'd just had such an amazing night together.
So, you laid there, watching him sleep and thinking about all the times you had done this before. It made you feel sick. It made you feel sad. You didn't want to think about what you'd both done to end up here. In this quicksand love that sucked you in deeper the more you struggled against the natural order of things.
"Kats, your pho-" you started. And then you shut yourself up before you could finish saying that his phone was ringing. He probably heard it, anyway.
"Yeah, I know. Thanks." He rolled onto his side to face you. His eyes were red and puffy and he looked tired. "G'mornin'," he said, brushing the hair from his face. "How you feel?"
"I'm fine. You?" You asked him, reaching out to touch his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm.
"I'm alright. Last night was ..." he started.
"Oh, y-yeah. Totally. I'm leaving as soon as I get my shit packed up. Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep here." You chuckled. "It's the best night's sleep I've gotten in weeks, though. Man. You said I can have the bed?" You forced a smile just to keep yourself from crumbling into his chest.
He looked at you like he was trying to figure out how to answer you. But you could tell that he was trying to be gentle with you. "You can have whatever you want. You know that." He said. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. "But you're not leaving yet, y/n. You're gonna stay and talk to me."
You sat up and started to look around for your clothes.
"You're not going to find them. I've hidden them. An' I hid the stuff you packed up yesterday, too. So put somethin' of mine on and go make some coffee, please. We forgot to set that up last night 'fore we fell asleep. N'less you wanna walk down to that coffee place? I kinda just wanna stay here, though. I called in to work last night. Deku is taking my shift and doin' all the paperwork for me. For - well, for us, I guess." He chuckled a little.
You shook your head and looked at him. "What do you mean you hid my stuff and ... and why would Deku be doing your paperwork? What paperwork?" You didn't want to ask but you hadn't heard of Katsuki relying on Deku for such a long time that the name almost sounded foreign to you. Like you were speaking a different language when you said it back to him.
"Jus' some shit down at the agency. He's with me now. Did'n I tell ya? M'sorry. I've had a lot on my mind lately. I'm sorry, I should have told ya. It's nice to have him around, all the same. An' I hid ... your clothes. What the hell more do you need explained about it, ya dumbass." He laughed and made a gesture with his hands like something was vanishing into thin air. "Poof, gone. Don' worry though, ma, you'll get 'em back ... if this goes well, that is."
Your head whipped up when he called you 'ma'. "You ... Kats, you haven't called me that for almost 2 years." You smiled as tears ran over your cheeks.
"Fuhhh, don't fuckin' cry 'bout it. I did'n say it to make you cry. Goddamn it." He laughed. "Go pull something of mine and put it on. I'll fix the coffee."
You nodded as you stood from the bed and awkwardly covered yourself.
"What's this? What the hell are you doin'? Coverin' yourself. Tch, such a dumbass. Y'know I saw yer asshole last night, right? Ya ain't got much more to hide, baby cakes." Katsuki doubled over laughing at your embarrassment.
"EW!! Kats! God, do you have to be so crude!? I know you did. But my god." You couldn't stop yourself from laughing along with him. You'd forgotten moments like these in the midst of all the upheaval. You vowed right then, that if you somehow got back in each other’s good graces, you wouldn't be taking them for granted ever again.
Katsuki stood up and pulled on his boxers. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was being inappropriate. My apologies, ma." He chuckled and started to walk away. "Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. I'll have the coffee ready in 5." He winked at you and disappeared through the doorway.
You smiled to yourself and grabbed one of his shirts from his closet. You put it on and rolled up the sleeves so that your hands were visible. You didn't want to roll them up too much because you knew that once you saw his face, you'd just want to go right back to bed and let him take care of you.
You walked into the kitchen and saw Katsuki standing there, staring at a cup of coffee in his hands. He looked up and smiled when he saw you. "Hi. That shirt looks good on you. It always has. Even when you first bought it, I remember saying something about it. You look ... sexy as hell."
You blushed and took a seat at the table. "I'm glad you like it. I'm glad you like me in your clothes. It feels so good in them." You smiled back at him. "So, what paperwork are you and Deku doing today?"
"Oh, just some shit we haven't had time to get to. It's nothing you have to worry about, though. We just need to file some reports and sign off on some things. It's boring stuff, really. Just, uh, work stuff." He said, avoiding your eyes.
You knew that he was lying. But you didn't want to push him right now. You wanted to give him a moment to breathe. A moment to gather his thoughts. So, you let it go and just sipped on your coffee.
"Ok. Well, I'm glad you two are working together again. I know you've missed having him around. And you deserve to have a good support system at work. Especially when you're so busy all the time." You sighed. "Katsuki, I -"
He cut you off, "Y/n, I don't want to talk about work or my friends. I just wanna talk to you. I want to get to know you again. I feel like we've lost each other in this mess. And I hate that. I hate that we can't just be together anymore without it being a battle."
"I know. I hate it, too. Kats, I'm sorry that I got so angry with you yesterday. I know that you were trying to make things right with us. And I was just being an asshole. I'm sorry. I want to be with you. I want to be here with you. I want to be in your life again. I want to be your person."
"You are my person. You will always be my person. You're the only one who gets me. You're the only one who has seen me at my worst and hasn't run away. I know I've been a dick. And I know that I've hurt you. But I promise that I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I want you back in my life. I want to be with you again. I don't care what anyone thinks or says or does. I want to be with you. You? You're all I've ever wanted." Katsuki stood up and walked around the table, pulling you to your feet. He held you in his arms and kissed you gently. "I love you, y/n. I never stopped loving you. I never will."
"I love you too, Kats. I'm sorry for ... well, I'm just sorry that we lost so much time in all of this. But I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to move forward with this. Together." You said, leaning your head on his chest. "Let's make it work this time."
"It'll work. I promise. We'll make it work. We'll find a way to make it work. And no more secrets, ok? No more hiding you or me or us. We're together and that's all that matters. Screw everyone else. They don't matter. It's us against the world. It's always been us against the world. It always will be." Katsuki kissed you again and held you tight. “I gotta run in to the office today for a bit. But I wont be long.”
You looked at him like you were waiting for directions.
He stared right back. Narrowing his eyes a little bit and tilting his head like he was waiting on you to make the next decision.
“Um,” you started, “I’m going to need my things back, Kats.”
“Why? You goin’ somewhere?” He asked.
Taglist ::: @spns-world (if you want me to not tag you, let me know! It'll only be on this series though.)
@darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl @arlerts-angel
#katsuki bakugou#katsuki bakugo#mha katsuki bakugou#mha katsuki bakugo#bnha#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfiction#bakugo katsuki#katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki x y/n#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bakugo x you#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#aged up characters
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ROUND 2C, MATCH 6 OUT OF 8!
Propaganda Under the Cut:
Persona 5:
[Mod's Note: Warning for Persona 5 spoilers]
Her Persona is Cinderella. Her story is about disguising herself as another person to gain acceptance.
Her persona is Cendrillon, the French name for Cinderella and the name of an opera based on the story, and it mirrors her arc in the game. When you boil her down to the essentials, she essentially made a wish that was granted by her....... fairy godtherapist to go from pauper (bland and talentless depressed Sumire) to princess (her dead sister Kasumi, bubbly, personable star gymnast). As far as she sees it, even, it's this transformation that helps her 'get the prince' (read: befriend the protagonist). Why should she win, though? Umm because she's my baby my angel my sweetie my cherub specialist character in fiction and most important girl in the universe. Out of love in your heart for me, tumblr user [REDACTED], vote for her.
GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH ok ok ok everyone here's my autism. Major spoilers as you get closer to the end btw! - She has three personas, in order they go: Cendrion, Vanadis, Ella. The first and last are taken from Cinderella, with Cendrion being the german name for Cinderella, and of course Ella just being a shortened form of Cinderella. - She does gymnastics, although a lot of her phantom thief design is heavily based off of ballet as well! In particular the black swan mimicking the white swan, and while of course that's not cinderella, it does remind me of how Cinderella was treated in the beginnings of the story - Cinderella and her both have major sibling trauma! It's a huge point about her character. Major spoilers, but she pretends to be her older sister Kasumi for most of the game; the sad truth is that she's in fact the younger sister Sumire. She's pretending to be her older sister because she can't deal with the trauma of that day she ran out into traffic and her sister got hit instead of her. (It does not help that her therapist uses eldritch god powers to gaslight her into thinking she is her sister.) - They're both pretty and also I love sumi so much she's everything to me. unironically the character of all time NOT FOR PROPAGANDA but for mod: image because it can be awkward to find one: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UyOsg26GnZU/maxresdefault.jpg also!!!! if you're interested in not potentially spoiling people you should call her Kasumi Yoshizawa. If you aren't worried about that though and want to be accurate, Sumire Yoshizawa is better. Or just call her Violet because that's her codename!
Initially introduced as Kasumi, she is a dorky and sweet first-year student who looks up to the protagonist as a mentor and eventually joins the Phantom Thieves in figuring out the fake reality they're trapped in. However, it's revealed that she's actually Kasumi's sister Sumire, who was always stuck in her more talented sister's shadow and yearned to be Kasumi. Unfortunately, she got her wish when her sister died saving her and her therapist brainwashed her into believing herself to be Kasumi. With help from the protagonist, Sumire realizes she was holding herself back and breaks free from her false identity, embracing her true self and rebelling against the hollow utopia. Her initial Persona--an embodiment of her true self--is Cendrillon, and her third tier ultimate Persona is Ella.
Sumire dosen't just pretends to be her dead sister, she was brainwashed into believing to be her by the final act's main villain/her fairy godfather figure, because that was her (misguided by trauma) wish as she believed that her sister was better than her. The final acts has a lot of 'making wishes come true' theme that connects her to Cinderella even more, also she does have a bit of 'save by the prince' thing going on with the game's protagonist
Cinderella:
her own movie screwed her over so bad so i need her to win at least one thing in her life ☹️ avoiding spoilers but once upon a crime cinderella is so kind and hardworking (and a hopeless romantic aww) and like damn let a girl fight back !!!!
#cinderpoll#round 2#round 2c#persona 5#persona 5 royal#sumi yoshizawa#violet#cendrillon#cinderella#once upon a crime#once upon a crime 2023#fairytale#poll tournament#poll bracket#character polls#polls
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Hey. There was a new Raincode interview written a few days ago and in that interview, Halara’s gender was brought up. I made a post about that question on my blog and I am curious your thoughts about it. I also linked the interview in my post.
(This is the post in question, for anyone interested. Which I think you probably should be, but... )
My thoughts are mostly that Kodaka's quote/response feels frustratingly uninformative and devoid of any value, but also sadly unsurprising. I know it's just a machine translation, so maybe this isn't capturing the exact nuance of the statement... but the sentence "I didn't specifically intend a social message" is just exactly the kind of vague, wishy-washy, "I really don't want to be in trouble with or offend anyone on any side of any possible argument" language that I've LONG gotten used to in promotional interviews about movies, TV, books, games, etc. Because god forbid you possibly appear to be either for or against anything that might be considered controversial in any possible market! Having STANCES on THINGS could damage your profit margin with some potential demographic.
I suppose this could be all there is to it. Maybe Kodaka legitimately means what he says here and put no greater thought into Halara's lack of gender identity. But I also think it'd be weird if the implications of leaving their gender unknown didn't at least occur to him at some point, particularly as there's been a growing awareness of so-called "X-gender" people in Japan over the last year and a half.
But ultimately, "Master Detective Archives: Rain Code" is Japanese media, and that leaves this kind of question-dodging not only expected, but arguably maybe even necessary. Take a look at the recent of the recent controversy over The Witch From Mercury, the Gundham anime that is over-the-top mega-gay. Bandai Namco still felt the need to declare that the relationship between Suletta and Miorine is "open to interpretation" despite the fact that the two get FUCKED MARRIED.
In fact, this Kotaku article does a good job digging into not only that anime's particular can of worms, but also how queer-friendly media in Japan continues to be suppressed and censored from the dominant conservatives behind the media companies and government even while those works enjoy massive popularity with younger consumers. Get a load of what they say about Yuri! on Ice:
Look no further than the fate of 2016’s smash hit Yuri! On Ice, which tells the tale of a struggling figure skater, Yuri Katsuki, who is coached back to success by the charismatic and undeniably handsome Victor Nikiforov. Similar to The Witch From Mercury, the pair’s relationship is explicitly laid out in the story, and the characters also exchange rings. It was, and still is, celebrated as a landmark anime for LGBTQ+ representation. It received acclaim in Japan, winning Animation of the Year at the Tokyo Anime Awards as well as a number of fan-voted awards. It has consistently been named as one of the top anime of the 2010s by IGN, Anime News Network, and here at Kotaku.
In what seemed like an obvious move to capitalize on the success of the show, a feature-length Yuri! On Ice movie was greenlit almost immediately. But six years later, a statement from Studio MAPPA CEO Manabu Otsuka said that despite the show being a hit, the company didn’t make a lot of money off of Yuri! On Ice, and as such, the movie likely won’t happen.
Back when Blu-ray sales mattered to the anime industry, Yuri! On Ice torched the competition, selling nearly double the amount of discs of its nearest competitor, the juggernaut franchise Love Live. The runaway success of Yuri! On Ice led to MAPPA’s heightened profile in the industry, which helped it secure the rights to produce Attack on Titan’s never-ending final season, the massively popular Jujutsu Kaisen, and the second season of Makoto Yukimura’s viking masterpiece, Vinland Saga. For MAPPA to claim that the Yuri! On Ice movie isn’t financially viable is disingenuous and contradicts standard industry metrics for success. MAPPA could release the Yuri! On Ice movie tomorrow, and it would be a guaranteed hit. Which begs the question, what is the hold up?
It's a reminder that speaking out against the anime production committees that dole out the work to animation studios is a dangerous game. In most of her press for Yuri! On Ice, creator and director Sayo Yamamoto played nice, answering softball questions that never directly addressed the very obvious love playing out on screen between Yuki and Victor. But, in the Yuri! On Ice fanbook “Go Yuri Go!” from 2017, Yamamoto claimed that the series had been censored outside of her control, and she had to fight to keep a kiss between Yuri and Victor in the final cut of the show.
Since then, Yamamoto has not gotten any other projects. To have arguably the biggest hit of 2016, receive critical acclaim from your own industry, and then not be given any work? It doesn’t add up. MAPPA has tied Yamamoto to the Yuri! On Ice movie project and essentially strung her out for six years now, leaving her in a kind of professional purgatory.
In an industry where the slightest scandal can lead to blacklisting, the idea that Yamamoto is being punished for wanting to go all-in on a queer narrative is not far-fetched.
So. Yeah. This is all a very long way of me saying "I don't know whether what Kodaka said here really tells us much about his intentions/thoughts, nor do I expect we'll ever hear much more on the topic." A lot of Japanese creators have gone the way of just letting the work speak for itself and vaguely denying anything else in public, because it's just safer that way... even if it leaves the rest of us clueless as to where the legit allies are.
Either way, Halara is a pretty awesome representation regardless. I'll just take that as a positive sign.
#japanese media#asks#kazutaka kodaka#master detective archives: rain code#rain code#master detective archives#the witch from mercury#yuri! on ice#queer media
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Okay, here’s my $0.02 about the Sweetheart poly fic thing. I’m not able to keep things short to save my life, so thanks in advance for reading this lol.
Sweetheart has these vulnerabilities and insecurities that she’s not willing to let most people see. She’s built up walls and puts on a mask to guard herself. It took months of being consistent, of Ridoc chipping away at her “armor”, and then the realization that he saw through the steely facade to her “soft heart” from the beginning for her to be willing to let him in.
That hasn’t happened with Sawyer. And though I have no doubt you have the skills to create a scenario where we can believe she’s willing to let him in too, I’m not sure that him just stumbling in and joining them would work for her.
And even if you build up the trust between her and Sawyer and make him prove himself, I kind of feel like Ridoc is just her person. Like he’s the only one that fits with her just right, and their little relationship needs to be protected at all costs. Like adding someone else to the mix would detract from how rare and genuine it was for Ridoc to see *her*.
Also, just as a side note, with the part where Sawyer’s like, “God, he’s always like this *eyeroll, eyeroll, eyeroll*” it gave me more of a Garrick with Violet vibe. Like he approves of her and would even be friendly with her, but he’s just glad his bestie found the right girl.
Obviously I trust you, and if you do end up writing it with Sweetheart, I’m still going to love it. But those are just my thoughts. I’m all for a poly fic, and that even fits well for Ridoc and Sawyer. But based on what we’ve seen of Sweetheart so far, I don’t know that it fits “her”.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to recruit some more Garrick girlies so we can win the other poll. There’s enough Liam content out there already.
Ridoc is just her person. Like he’s the only one that fits with her just right, and their little relationship needs to be protected at all costs. Like adding someone else to the mix would detract from how rare and genuine it was for Ridoc to see *her*.
I wanna call off the vote now omg. like that's it, I'm convinced. you're so right.
I was originally thinking it could be a cool dynamic to have this seemingly cold and un-affectionate girl with two smiley idiots (using that word affectionately lmao) absolutely in love with her and everyone else is just like. how did that happen. but the problem there is that she'd have to trust Sawyer enough to let him see her vulnerable, let alone to touch her (she isn't very touchy at all, something she's going to have to work through with Ri as their relationship progresses).
I like the comparison you made of Sweetheart and Sawyer to Vi and Garrick -- they're chill, they'll protect each other if needed, but that's kinda it (and of course, both boys are going to lightly make fun of their bro for simping, but like you said, at the end of the day they're just glad he has someone).
I definitely want to develop Sweetheart's friendships with the rest of the gang in future chapters. She's kinda the extra one in the marked group, not having a bestie or a partner, so down the line as she becomes more comfortable with Ridoc, she's going to become part of their gang and get pulled into their shenanigans, wether she wants to be or not lol
Now I just have to find a good petname for the boys to use for reader in the other fic... how do we feel about princess? they certainly take very good care of her... maybe that's too corny tho. idk.
Garrick's only three votes behind Liam in the bonded-dragons poll right now, (four days to go!) but even if he doesn't come out on top, I still have two spicy pieces for him in the works: him with angel and the sunflowers (during what was I made for?), and one with a different reader (teaser here 👀)
genuinely, thank you for sharing your thoughts ❤️ it's just me in my room with my laptop coming up with this stuff late at night, so it's really nice to have someone else's perspective as well (as 2am Liz doesn't always think things through).
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Gen VI, Complete!
You read that correctly, we've made it through PokeFrance (Official term for Kalos, honest!) and have compiled the data!
With that said, let us begin the usual look at this generations...
Sultans of Smash!
(Which is just my fancy way of saying they got more "Smash" than "Pass" votes)
So come with me on this fabulous journey in smashing! Our Smashables are (under the Read More because, you know, this gonna take a while):
1. So for this generation, we do have three starters on the list! But, sadly, Chesnaught couldn't make it. So for our first starter, we instead have our second middle evolution, Braixen! Suppose it's not hard to see why, everyone loves magical girls and Braixen certainly counts! Counts enough to get a 66.4% Smash rating, which is pretty good says I.
2. But far surpassing Braixen is the greatest of Pokemon fire mages, Delphox! And when I say surpass, I mean really surpasses! Delphox has the honor of being the first Starter Pokemon to make it into the Gods of Smash, with a mighty 80.9% Smash rating! There's no stopping the magic of this witch!
...Side note, I think I will be naming my next Delphox "Browser", because she's a Firefox. (Ba-Dum-Tss)
3. Similar to the samurai, ninja have long been one of the more interesting mainstays of Japanese pop culture (especially abroad), and are almost always popular. So it's understandable that Pokemon's own ninja, Greninja, would have their fair share of friends and admirers! And with a smash rating of 72.5% in Standard Form, god damn what fans they have! The Ash-Greninja form, while not quite as popular Standard Form, also makes it in with a 52% Smash rating! Looks like not even a ninja of this calibur can hide how smashable they are.
4. This next Pokemon has a pretty accurate name. Florges, a combination of "Flower" and Gorgeous", certainly describes them pretty well if you ask me! And judging by that solid 67.8% Smash rating she's earned herself, I'd say many of y'all agree!
5. Everyone knows the "Jerk with a Heart of Gold" character archetype, and the closely related "Bruiser with a Soft Center". And it cannot be understated that these character archetypes are super popular. So of course, combining them into a single Pokemon and making that Pokemon a panda? Instant recipe for success, I'm sure! And said Pokemon exists in the form of Pangoro! Are they loved? I dunno, let's ask that 67.9% Smash rating of theirs.
...Survey says yes.
6. Many of us love cats, but often wish it was easier to understand them (or at the very least make ourselves understood to them). Fortunately for the Pokemon universe, they do have cats that can understand us and be more easily understood in the form of the psychic Meowstic! Coming in at 68.1% Smashable for Female Meowstic and 59.3% Smashable for Male Meowstic, it seems some of y'all really appreciate these cats!
...Now if only Female Meowstic didn't tend to fall into the French/Kalosian stereotype of being kind of a jerk (according to the Pokedex, anyways)
7. If there's two things I've seen a number of tumblr users like, it's tentacles and hypno stuff. So with that in mind, Malamar having both makes it very unsurprising they've gained entry to the Sultans of Smash! That said, at a 51.7% Smash rating, I have to admit I expected larger numbers. But anyways... Wait wha-
ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOSQUID.
8. It's a tale as old as time, people look at the Tyrannosaurus Rex as a kid and think "That's them, that's the coolest fucking dinosaur ever!" While some move on or get different favorite dinosaurs, for some that passion never fades. And that passion for the majestic t.Rex, it seems, translates itself onto Tyrantrum! And at 53% Smashability, seems this king will have no reason to go on a tantrum.
(Thank god, I don't think we could handle the repair bills to the property if they did...)
9. The Aurora Borealis has fascinated humans since they've first been able to observe that wondrous display of light. Thankfully for those of us who don't live in polar regions, the color-changing sails of Aurorus can help capture the beauty of such a natural phenomenon! Certainly, many of you have expressed a desire to admire this Pokemon up close and personal, if that 65.9% smash rating is any indication! Though really, the ice crystals and geometric patterns on their scales also do a lot for the appeal of this cool customer.
10. Attention everyone, it is once again Real Eeveelution Hours! And for this list's Eeveelution, we have everyone's favorite walking trans flag, Sylveon! With their extendable ribbons, piercing blue eyes, and 69.3% Smash rating, it seems Sylveon continues the time-honored Eeveelution tradition of being absolutely smashable!
11. Hear me out here, what if snails and slugs were also... Dragons? If your answer to learning this was "Oh fuck yeah that sounds awesome!", then I have Good News! This Snail/Slug Dragon I proposed is a thing in the form of Goodra, with Kalosian Goodra being more slug-like and Hisuian Goodra being more snail-like! However people like them though, considering Kalosian Goodra has a 71.4% Smash rating and Hisuian Goodra has a 61.6% rating, it's clear people do like these dragons quite a bit.
12. It may not be Halloween, but for many of us there's always time for Jack-o'-Lanterns! And with Gourgeist, the next Pokemon on our list, you can have a jack-o'-lantern that can also be smashed, something a number of you want if that 50.4% Smash rating is any indication!
13. And next up on the list, we have a noisy one! Ever wondered what would happen if bats could be loud enough to shatter anything by yelling at it? Well, if Noivern and their 68% Smash rating is any indication, the answer is "People would want to smash it!" Though really, looking at them, I can safely say you'd have to be blind as a bat to not see the appeal.
Sorry, the pun had to be made.
14. I'm gonna be honest, I tried thinking long and hard on how to be crafty with my statement regarding this next one, but I just can't do it. I'd need more than one lifetime to make something fitting enough for this majestic deer! Fortunately, Xerneas can give one all the time in the world they need to think of stuff! And judging by that 66.5% Smash rating, I think a few of y'all have a few ideas on what to do with all the time Xerneas' immortality will give you...
15. But where there's life, there must, sadly, be death. Fortunately, death is this case is the very cool looking Yveltal, who has achieved an impressive 63.5% Smash rating! Seems that for some of y'all, "Death comes for you" has a different meaning...
16. Balance is an important part of any ecosystem. Too much death and you have no ecosystem, but too much life and you risk one particular part of that ecosystem overwhelming the rest. Fortunately, to prevent this from happening, Zygarde is here! And judging by how 50% Forme has a 52.3% Smash rating and Complete Forme has a 61.2% Smash rating, I'd say a number of you wish to show Zygarde your appreciation.
17. Diamonds are great. They're shiny, they're stupidly hard to damage, and they can come in a variety of colors! And that's just in our universe, the Pokemon universe is lucky and has Diancie, a living diamond Pokemon! And if Standard Form's 56.1% Rating and Mega Diancie's 65.3% rating is any indication, Diancie also adds "Very smashable" to the list of good diamond traits!
18. And for the finale, I present to you... Another Pokemon who only had an alternate form get in? Yep! It's Hoopa, the genie in a bottle Pokemon! Specifically, it's Hoopa Unbound, who makes it in with a 55.6% Smash rating! And with his rings, they'll show you the wo-
Eh? What? Copyright law?! Damn it!
Ok my lawers just advised me to not finish that joke, so sadly I can't leave y'all on the Aladdin reference. But I can say that considering Hoopa has a history of stealing treasure with their rings, I'm beginning to suspect some of y'all have a thing for Pokemon with criminal tendencies...
And thus is the Gen VI Who's Who of Smashing concluded, bringing us up to 136 Sultans of Smash! Well then let's see what's next...
Gen VII? Oh man, we've got some choice Sultans of Smash incoming...!
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Trick or Treat? 👻
(Event Post)
🍬 Treat! :D Here's an excerpt from Silver Glass (warning for references to murder and period-typical homophobia. Plus major spoilers, of course):
"So you see," Mr. Altounian finished, "I killed Gwladys to save Alec. Dzovig killed Çelik Bey for revenge. What we did was wrong, but justified. We would never have done it if they hadn't driven us to it."
Silence fell. Phil looked around the room. Yo-han's face was blank. Vi and Máté looked as if they couldn't believe what they'd just heard. Lennox was staring at Altounian with a mixture of grief and something she couldn't place. Altounian refused to look at anyone. He stared at the carpet and kept his grip on Lennox's hand.
Yo-han had been leaning against the mantelpiece during the story. Now he straightened up. He looked at Máté, Vi and Phil in turn.
"And there we have it," he said. "There are only two options now. One, I tell the police everything. Mr. Eames — I beg your pardon, Mr. Altounian — will be hanged for murder. Perhaps certain other facts will remain hidden, or perhaps Mr. Lennox will be arrested for sodomy. Either way his reputation will be destroyed."
Phil looked thoughtfully at Altounian and Lennox. Now she recognised that something she hadn't been able to place. It was in the way Altounian clutched Lennox's hand like a lifeline, the way Lennox leant towards him, the way he never took his eyes off Altounian's face.
She had never realised how similar she and Lennox were until now.
What did you do when you learnt someone you loved had murdered someone you hated? How could you make yourself hate them? Could you ever forgive them? Could you ever stop loving them?
Leopold was worse than Davit. He had known from very early in their acquaintance that he was going to kill her aunt. He had befriended her anyway. In a way she was worse than Alexander, because she had fallen in love with Leo after the murder.
If Leo appeared on her doorstep one day, what would she do? How could she tell him to go to hell when she never wanted him to leave her again?
Phil looked at Lennox, and she understood exactly the turmoil going on in his mind. They were both people who loved not wisely but too well.
Yo-han had stayed silent for a while, allowing his last sentence to sink in. Now he continued. "Then there is the other option. I lie to the police. I tell them Çelik Bey's father is a politician and his enemies murdered his son. Mrs. Lennox was killed to stop her identifying them. And a murderer goes unpunished."
Altounian laughed, shrill and piercing. "Unpunished? My god! I see her blood everywhere. I can still hear her skull breaking. When I close my eyes I see her face all covered with blood. I can smell it, I can practically taste it, sometimes I think I still see it on my hands, my clothes. Hanging can't be worse than this."
He really didn't look well. He was pale and trembling. After observing Altounian for a minute Phil agreed; he certainly was being punished. Considering what Mrs. Lennox had been like, she thought he was being punished enough.
Lennox pulled his hand free, but only to put one arm around Altounian's waist and the other around his shoulders. He pulled him close.
"So," Yo-han said. "We will vote on it."
"Not me," Lennox said. It was the first time he'd spoken since… had he spoken at all? Phil couldn't remember. His voice was quiet and it sounded like he was trying not to cry. "I can't vote. I suspected, but I hoped— I can only say that if you give Davit up, I will go to the police and tell them I planned the murders."
Altounian's head snapped round. He stared at Lennox as if he was out of his mind. "They'd hang you too!"
"That would be better than living without you."
Adding Glass's taglist: @writingpotato07, @oh-no-another-idea, @sarahlizziewrites, @lightgriffinsect, @kittensartswriting, @acertainmoshke, @author-a-holmes, @sam-glade, @late-to-the-fandom (Let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)
#writeblr trick or treat#ask#author-a-holmes#writing#my writing#my WIPs#WIP: glass#the case files of seo yo han
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On the Left, Bianca Di Angelo; Left to fend for herself and her brother at 10 years old against monsters and gods and the mortal world alike, she toughs it out and keeps him alive, even when she barely knows what's going on and aches for the companionship of someone like herself.
On the left, Vi; notoriously overprotective of her little sister, even against their adoptive brothers (though she does love and respect them too, on some level). She lashes out when her sister puts herself in an extremely bad position, but it obviously comes from a place of worry.
Both girls make plenty of mistakes that they don't always get the chance to work out with their sibling, but that doesn't diminish the all emcompassing care they have for what may as well be their child. But which will move on? Get voting!
#bianca di angelo#PJO#the titan's curse#Arcane#vi arcane#polls#tumblr polls#I know those pics are kinda big but I'm NOT sorry. Bianca deserves it#Wow. those sure are some fucking DEPPRESSED 15 year olds huh. where is their emotional support (codependant) child?
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I just had a fantastic idea that I need to share vis a vis Dirk
Okay so I regularly think of ways I would have written Homestuck to resolve the writing problems I see in it, and I was brainstorming one issue I had never seen a good way of resolving, even in DDOTA, which is normally great at providing the structures for these things: HAL.
Like, he and Dirk are not only deeply similar to each other and would render arcs about self-improvement redundant, but would also kind of be redundant with Dave and Davesprite, and obviously the Mario Star that is Prototyping with someone else doesn't resolve anything. And so I was thinking, "how do HAL and Dirk get separate distinct arcs, because I can't just smash them into other people", and then I realized: what if they went into *each other*? Like, I've always been opposed to the corpses being Prototyped, I always wanted HAL to not be with Equius and have an empty slot, so:
#TLDR:
What if Dirk Prototyped HAL and *himself*. Like, became one "Dirksprite" with one set of memories for ages 0-13, then two for 13-16. Dirksprite would go through the same stuff as the original Dirk: being the last won over by Trickster Mode, dying on the Slab and reviving as a God-Tier(now slightly cyborg), ect.
This would serve numerous purposes from multiple perspectives: to show that Dirk really, deep down, loves, rather than hates, being himself, a brilliant piece of analysis I must credit to u/harryhinderson; to simplify the number of characters; to avoid a repetitive arc; to keep HAL from being “dangerous” as Dirk's partial motivation/excuse for himself; to provide a parallel “bad (clearly unhealthy) end” to the Strider duplicate issue; and to, from Dirk's perspective, hopefully put an end to the splinter bullshit.
What do you think?
#dirk#dirk Strider#Homestuck#homestuck rewrite#double death of the author#Double-Death Of The Author#hal strider#arquiusprite#halsprite#prince of heart#ultimate self#alpha kids
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Someone will remember us
Chapter 26
Taglist:@stargaryenx @arrthurpendragon @fyeahhotdocs @ocappreciationtag
Gif by: @alicentloyalist
“He is not who I wanted for you.” Rhaenys does not approve of it, but it is incredibly hypocritical for her to judge her granddaughter for marrying for love when she did.
Many had vied for her hand and many hoped she would wed Viserys to keep the line pure, but no one had moved her heart like Corlys had.
How could she wed anyone when there was no other person for her save for the man who came from the ends of the world just to see her?
“But he is who I want, grandmama.” The girl says as Rhaenys laced her wedding dress.
It should have been the finest the world could offer, one that was made just for her and only her
Not this dress that witnessed murder and grief.
“Then I shall embrace him as your father would have wanted. I do not think he ever spoke ill of Aemond, even when he called your brothers bastards and lost his eye, Laenor still thought well of him.” The princess said and wondered if the young boy Laenor mentioned in glowing terms unlike his elder brother was still that way.
The girl is hiding something, something she is trying to segue into but cannot find a courage. Aemma has never been able to keep secrets from her, in the end the girl caves in and confides in her.
It better not be that she has given her betrothed her maidenhead.
“I told the king about my dreams.” The girl quietly admitted.
It was somehow worse.
“What did he say?” Rhaenys asked with trepidation. If the king knew it was only a matter of time that Hightower knew and branded Aemma as insane.
“He said it was the sign he had prayed to the gods for. He had a dream when Aegon, his son, was born that told him it was through my mother that the Prince that was Promised will come and that me being a dreamer means I am meant to be queen.” Unlike Rhaenyra, Aemma has been prepared for this great burden she was born to.
Jaehaerys had dreamed that his line would be saved through Baelon’s and it was only because of that Rhaenys exhaled in relief when the Great Council decided it was Viserys who should take the Throne.
She made her peace with it knowing her grandfather had acted in name of the prophecy her father had told her of in secret, just like his father had done and how Visenya had done with Jaehaerys at the hour of her death.
Rhaenyra had told the girl before she was summoned to court a month ago. Written to her saying: I spoke to her about a dream.
Same words Viserys had written to her, same words Jaehaerys had written to let her know he had chosen Viserys as his heir before the rigged vote came out in his favor.
“I need to tell my mother about the dreams.” The girl concluded with a look of fear in the glass mirror she stood in front of.
“Once you are back to your progress, you may do so. For now remember you are a bride and all you should worry about is not misspeaking your vows, little dragon.” Rhaenys did not like it, Rhaenyra is good mother, but there is no telling how she will use this new information.
-----
There are shocked whispers when the guests and the smallfolk realize they have been tricked into attending a wedding.
It is a good sort of shock, like when Aegon surprised everyone by having bread and wine given to the smallfolk when the twins were born.
Aemond stands at the altar with his brothers beside him. Daeron holds the cloak Alicent was once cloaked with and Aegon makes dirty japes as Aemond hid his nerves by hiding his hands behind his back.
“Your bride will be left speechless.” She had said after his father had crowned him with the circlet Prince Aemon had been crowned with.
Aegon had worn Baelon’s, the same circlet Viserys had worn when he wed Aemma Arryn. The crown of a second born son with no chances of being king.
Aemond he crowns with the circlet Jaehaerys had made for his heir, the man who would have been king had he not died so young.
Her father mislikes it.
Thinks it will divide the family when Aegon succeeds Viserys.
But her husband makes it clear, Aegon will never be king. He will be the fourth Aegon with no crown.
He will be the second Aegon who’s younger brother usurps him, Alicent could hear her father’s voice in her head.
Her son bites his lower lip to hide his shyness. He had never been as confident as Aegon who thought himself the gods’ gift to women, the loss of his eye had made it worse.
And then came Aemma who looks at him like every girl used to look at the statue of young King Jaehaerys in the royal gallery.
The crowds outside cheer louder when they see Princess Rhaenys reveal their beloved princess as a bride.
It is a deafening thing, one that was not there when she wed Viserys nor when Aegon wed Helaena.
But none of them are as beloved by the people as Aemma is. Aemma who has been raised to be the queen the realm was denied of when the Great Council chose Viserys.
Aemma who wears her mother’s dress and makes Alicent see the knight of kisses brutally murdered on the floor when she closes her eyes.
She can feel Criston tense behind her.
Alicent had declared herself Rhaenyra’s enemy by wearing green, Aemma declares herself their enemy by wearing Rhaenyra’s dress.
And she looks so much like her mother when the bridal procession reveals Viserys standing regally on the arm of his granddaughter who cannot see anyone else but her son.
“She is not her.” She reminds her sworn protector and confidante as Viserys and Aemma walk under the sword arch. “Aemma is not her mother.”
“No, she is something far worse.” Her father whispers as the king removes the maiden cloak off the girl’s shoulders and gives her hand to Aemond.
“My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” The High Septon begins and Alicent knows not even Aemond can stop her father from usurping the Iron Throne from Rhaenyra.
----
“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”
The kiss is soft and sweet and feels too short, but Aemma feels her heart soar all the same.
She loves him, nothing he does or will do will ever make her stop loving him.
“I love you.” She whispers as they lead the procession to where an opened curtained litter waits for them. It is the first time she has ever said it and for a second she fears she did not hear him in the cheers they give for them.
“I know.” He finally says when he kisses her again at the threshold of the Dragonpit.
And for a moment Aemma forgets she has seen him die.
#aemma velaryon#asoiaf fanfic#someone will remember us fic#house of the dragon#asoiaf au#oc fanfiction#aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc#asoiaf#hotd#ocappreciationtag#ocfairygodmother#fyeahhotdocs
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The Golden Globes is a demoralised brand, voted for and organised by people who, as Tina Fey once joked, operate out of “the back booth of a French McDonald’s”. Still, we have last week’s 80th awards show to thank for Jennifer Coolidge, winner of best supporting actress for her role in The White Lotus, rambling through a speech as hilarious as anything Mike White has ever written for her. Prior to the success of her role as Tanya McQuoid (“Mc-Kwaaaad”), Coolidge – breathless on stage – characterised her acting career as one that had been “fizzled out by life”. Her triumph at the age of 61 isn’t the kind Hollywood often supports. It was an uplifting, joyful spectacle.
It was also a moment of drama the unlikeliness of which underscored the various obstacles Coolidge had to clear to get there. After the awards, the most shared photo of Coolidge was one in which she struck a friendly pose with Jean Smart, who won best actress in a musical/comedy series at the Globes last year for her role in Hacks, and who, at 71, is enjoying an even more unlikely renaissance. It has been stated so often as to be tedious, but that any female actor north of 50 – let alone 60, or my god, 70 – can float back into public consciousness in a form other than the daffy Betty White model, is a rare enough phenomenon to supercharge the celebration.
For those who watch a lot of British TV, Coolidge’s win felt particularly satisfying, perhaps, coinciding as it did with the return of Sarah Lancashire in Happy Valley, a performance that encourages one to conclude that TV shows should be peopled exclusively by middle-aged women (in high-vis jackets). The vibe that animates Lancashire’s performance is one we saw displayed by Coolidge; that is, one redolent of someone who cares deeply and sincerely about her work and her peers, while – I don’t know how either of them pulls this off – assuming a position of being fully beyond giving a shite about any of it.
To this end, the actor broke a bunch of rules about what you do and don’t say in public at awards dos. Over the last few decades, Coolidge’s career has been made up of a patchwork of small roles that were rarely equal to her talent. She had a small part in two episodes of Glee; she had cameos in the comedy sketch show, Inside Amy Schumer; she made an appearance in three episodes of Nip/Tuck. Or, as she put it last Tuesday night, “there were like five people that kept me going for, like, 20 years with these little jobs” – an honest admission of something to which her peers in Hollywood avoid reference to with the fervour of medieval superstition: failure. As Brad Pitt gurned his slightly baffled appreciation from the front row, Coolidge talked, with brilliant, breathy incredulity, about never being invited to parties in her neighbourhood. One upshot of her recent success, she said, was that “my neighbours are speaking to me, things like that”.
The charm of this performance was rooted in what felt like Coolidge’s off-the-cuff stream of consciousness, which may, of course, be just another level of her acting skill. But it’s very weird to watch something as cynical and debased as the Golden Globes and find oneself genuinely moved. It wasn’t only Coolidge’s unanticipated rise, but her tribute to White, creator of The White Lotus and a man who, if Ryan Murphy espouses a certain kind of Hollywood nightmare personality, seems, even after his success, still to embody the homespun decency of Mr Schneebly (White’s role in School of Rock). “He is worried about the world,” said Coolidge, as White got all teary. “He’s worried about people; he’s worried about friends of his that aren’t doing well. He’s worried about animals, all of that.” These moments at awards shows are usually unbearably fake, but I believed her.
There was so much else to love. Coolidge’s reference to the giant hook pulling her off stage at the Emmys (“I thought it left when vaudeville ended”); her early dreams to “be queen of Monaco, even though someone else did it”. Above all, what one assumes was her unintentional rebuke to all the actors a third of her age and half her size squinting up at her with appreciation and puzzlement.
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SDC Month - June 2022 - Thursday #3
Number of the beast references are beneath us, aren't they?
VI. Malaia
This is her punishment, of that she is certain. Her brothers and sisters undoubtedly think it fair — what else to be done with a daughter who voted to condemn her own father to death?
Truth be told, she will likely not miss the only home she's ever known, not after losing her love and having so many turn against her. Better the memories of the dead than the scorn of the living.
Notes
Malaia, yet another fanon character, is a non-main line daughter of (the canon) Kumatuya. Despite being a blood-rank one lady, she had a (unlikely, given their gap in rank) long-lasting friendship with her aunt Azurea (the two being very close in age). However, while teenage Malaia's feelings shifted from platonic towards romantic in time, they were always unrequited, and so their friendship remained as such. After Kumatuya arranged for Azurea to marry Sardian, Malaia was heartbroken, and Azurea's later death in childbirth devastated her. Both events led her to resent her father, and she was the only one of his children to vote against him in the God Emperor election (a decision that was still incredibly conflicting to her).
The years following the election were not happy ones, as despite her father's victory, many of her siblings turned against her for her actions. Kumatuya's eventual choice to arrange a match between Malaia and Suth Berillus came as a relief in a sense, but a bitter, dreadful one, as the Suth forbidden house had been where Azurea had died. Still, given the circumstances, it was easier for Malaia to make peace with what she saw as a personally-tailored punishment, her relationships with most of her relatives having soured beyond repair.
#stone dance of the chameleon#the stone dance of the chameleon#sdc month 1 2022#sdc 4 sentence fics#sdc june 2022 thursdays#house of the masks
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