#with some good old validation of all their worst fears

[foundfamilywhump]

whumper who weaponizes whumpee’s insecurities to break them down emotionally, to make them easier to manipulate or even just for fun, to see them hurt. make them cry.

reminding whumpee of the parent(s) who hurt them. the friend who betrayed them. the team who kicked them out. dredging up the sources of their beliefs that they won’t matter to anyone, that their pain, their suffering, their life is nothing anyone would care about.

taunting them: who’s coming for you? even if you got away/told someone what’s happening, what would be the point? go ahead. we’ve already called them, they say good riddance. we could put an ad out in the paper, broadcast it online and no one would lift a finger in your name. you’re free for the taking. anyone could do anything to you. just face it: you’re a defenceless target.

[hope-for-the-planet]

Perhaps it's just me. But right now, with the rapid global transition towards green energy, reforestation and conservation efforts, laws, genuinely crazy and huge innovations that can help us adapt to the changing world... it feels like we're on the right track.

Perhaps it's just me. But the geopolitical insanity that I see and learn from my peers all over the world, doesn't feel like the end. No, it... it feels like change. The last horrible and panicked gasps of the dying old, because it refuses to accept that it is not sustainable anymore, and the world is moving towards the better, through protests and unity and human goodness. I've seen this before - in stories from the older generation, and in history books.

But I also feel terribly guilty whenever I start thinking like that, for some odd reason? I feel guilty whenever I try and rationalize that despite it all, the world will continue existing, and even in the worst case scenario (which we already have avoided), there would be forests and oceans and species and biodiversity and ecosystems and people and cities and countries to see and love, because after all, nature is resilient and adaptable - just like our species are.

I feel guilty for feeling this cautious curiosity about what the future might hold for us, the bad and the good. Because I feel like I am obligated to be grieving and panicking and angry, like many people are - but that's just... so tiring.

Hi Anon,

This is going to be a long one because I think your ask gets at something difficult that I have a lot of thoughts about.

Your phrase “cautious curiosity” made me think of psychology researcher Jamil Zaki’s idea of “hopeful skepticism”. Which is not assuming that everything will inevitably get better, but open to the possibility that it could and curious to see the paths it might take to get us there.

Our society tends to view a cynical outlook as more intelligent or even more moral, but research shows that a cynical outlook actually makes people worse at predicting outcomes, worse at cognitive and problem-solving tasks, less likely to vote or protest, and even measurably harms their physical and mental wellbeing.

I think the guilt you describe is likely coming from the feeling that while we have been significantly improving conditions for humanity on this Earth and will likely continue to do so in the long run, in the present there are many real humans suffering--it can be hard and uncomfortable to hold these two truths together.

Even if this last dying breath is temporary and brief, it is destroying real people’s lives and many more live in fear that they will be next. The fact that child mortality has absolutely plummeted even just in my own lifetime is both a miracle of humanity and means little to the parent who has lost their child to a preventable death. To quote the philosopher Max Roser, “The world is much better; the world is still awful; the world can be much better.”.

You don't need to feel guilty for having hope for the future. Carrying feelings like hopelessness, grief, and fear all the time is entirely valid, but like you said it is also exhausting—and there is nothing inherently moral about emotionally suffering particularly if it’s harming your ability to live your life or take positive action.  

You are right that we are still making progress in the correct direction in many ways. You are right that history is rife with examples of forward momentum provoking a reactionary backtracking but that the forward momentum usually ultimately prevails.

The key here, is to understand that the future path you describe is possible—even likely more probable than a lot of people think—but it is not inevitable. We still have to take action to make it happen. The arc of history bends towards progress only because so many millions of mostly unnamed unknown people have put the work in to bend it in big and little ways.

I’ll end with one of my favorite quotes from Rebecca Solnit: “Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency. Hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from the annihilation of the earth's treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal... To hope is to give yourself to the future - and that commitment to the future is what makes the present inhabitable.”

Reminding others that progress is still happening and that there is hope for a brighter future is important work in getting members of your community to pick up their own axe and make that future happen. Hope in dark times is not just ok or reasonable--it is a precious, vital tool.

[erinwantstowrite]

do you have any advice how to get over the fear of posting fanfiction?

idk if you would relate to that but for some reason I just can't publish anything online that isn't my original work, idk if I'm scared that fandoms are going to bully me or that nobody will read it or something else

I know these fears are irrational, but I would love to hear if you had any advice for me

you gotta jump headfirst into it. like this:

when i was 13 years old i wrote a mary sue oc for a marauders fanfiction, named Lana Portland, who could see the future and fell in love with Sirius Black. her one goal was stopping the prophecy and saving everyone, but she died, came back to life at her own funeral, and then disappeared off the face of the earth because she lost her mind. what happened to her? she could only have a sane mind while she was an owl, her animagus form, but no one knew she was an animagus. you'll never believe what owl she was: Hedwig.

if the Erin writing to you right now was the Erin from about six years ago, they would NEVER have admitted that. however, the Erin I am now can. why? because the embarrassment i felt when i turned 15 and hated looking at it has worn off.

Now Erin has finally come to terms with the fact that being "cringe" is a hell of our making. 15 year old Erin was absolutely sure they'd get bullied to hell and back if anyone knew what they had written at 13. they were much more mature than 13 year old Erin, because they wrote Voltron fanfic, not Harry Potter

being scared of what people thought of my writing was a huge obstacle to overcome, and that's because writing is intensely personal

at first, i wrote my Voltron fics with the fandom in mind. i really wanted some validation, but i was miserable and hated writing. eventually, i went back to my roots of just... writing with only myself in mind. and i was happy again, posting with barely any thought to if someone would like the fic. so sure, reading any of my old works would make me want to throw myself into a pit of fire, but there's something freeing about knowing i had posted them. i am where i am now because i hadn't worried about what people thought of it when i was writing it.

over the years, i've found that fics i wrote that were intended to make absolutely everyone happy with me were my worst fics. i didn't enjoy making them, and people still found a way to be dissatisfied with something i've done. the fics where i do absolutely anything i want, even if it ends up making no sense, were the fics i had the most fun writing. and i didn't regret making them

all this to say: treat your fanfic like it's your own original work, have your fun! don't worry about if people tell you "Character would never do that, you are awful." because 1) who cares, and 2) you can block them, and they can block you

now let's say you're no longer scared of getting dunked on for your writing, so you posted it. good job! now you're wanting people to read your work, but you're scared they won't.

this part is complicated because you could do all the "right" things and still get nothing. that can be making sure you're tagging your fic correctly, or making a bunch of posts about your fic and asking people to read, etc. so, before you focus on getting more people to read, you should remind yourself that even if absolutely no one reads your fic, that doesn't mean you should be ashamed of your work. this also ties back into being content with your writing and doing it for yourself first and foremost.

my favorite fic i've written is "Coffee Jelly Disaster." it's only 900 words, it's not nearly my best writing technically, and barely anyone has read it. that last part ate at me when i first posted it because i thought more people would read it. but i still love it! it's so simple and i had fun

when i started writing LoF it was just for me and my friend, and then it got popular because i made a couple of silly tiktoks, which were also for me and my friend. i hadn't expected so many people to tune in when i started, because i had a couple of well read fics before, but nothing like this.

you don't have control over that kind of stuff because there's a lot of different favtors. and it really depends on what fandom you're writing for, too. Saiki K is not nearly as big as Spider-Man and Batman.

so the way i see it, if you post and get two hits and one like, that's still somebody out there who saw your work and wanted you to see they liked it. if you never post it at all, no one will. you gotta take the first step forward to get somewhere, and eventually you'll be running. we end up regretting our inactions the most

[drdemonprince]

hi! i’m hoping to go to my first munch tomorrow evening to be able to connect with my fellow kinksters but i’ve identified feelings of imposter syndrome with being there, and social anxiety. wrt the imposter syndrome i feel as though maybe my kinks aren’t enough to warrant my presence in the community, and that others might view me as unserious, or an interloper. i particularly have a fetish for fat men (as a fat man myself) and worry that people may look upon me oddly. i also worry with social anxiety that i may look weird or odd to others there, and that they might dislike me or be put off (im autistic and this has happened before so it feels like a reasonable fear). i know your advice is to attend three gatherings of the same occasion before deciding whether or not it’s right for you, but is there a way to quell my anxiety so that i don’t immediately chicken out and stay entrenched in my comfort zone? thank you!

Yes, I can give your worst anxieties a needed reality check!

You are not an imposter. SO many people at your average munch are inexperienced newbies who are there because they have just begun to venture out into the scene. Regardless of age or how confident they might seem to you from the outside when you're first standing there fidgeting nervously, many of them are completely overwhelmed and nervous themselves. That 45-year-old guy who seem so self-assured is a recently divorced dad who has never had actual leathersex in his life and is finally getting to explore it. That 30-year-old woman who seems like the belle of the ball has only ever played with fuzzy handcuffs and read kinky erotica and after years of teasing from her friends is ready to make it real.

Even the real pro's who swan around talking about everything they've done and all the gear they've got are mostly trying to quell their own insecurities about not being good enough or not being wanted or not having sexual appeal yet/anymore. Some people cover it up with talking a mile a minute or with class clown jokes or theater kid antics but they're nervous, and fragile, and want to meet new people and to feel okay, and you being there and how you act is just a much a determinant of how that goes as how they act.

If anything, some munches just kind of overselect for the inexperienced and single because hey, if you've got a big kinky network already you might not need to go there (unless it's a really cool, laid back munch that your friends also attend and like going to just as a standing social event). It will almost always be a mix of really seasoned and experienced people from the scene (who should know to be WELCOMING; if they're dicks, they're just grizzled adults with Late-Onset Popularity Syndrome and the problem is on them not you) and total fragile newborn fawn newbies. And there will be pearls among both and just kinda meh people among both. None of them speak for the community as a whole, if you don't click with someone that's not a defect on your part.

As for not being kinky enough OH GOD please you do not need to worry. Again, lots of people venturing into munches are on a sexual exploration journey of some kind or just trying to get laid and that means there's a ton of casuals and kinda mild players (in my estimation, it's all relative) for whom like, breeding is a kink, or underwear is. The weirdest thing you can be into is rawdogging or eating ass and you can still call yourself kinky! And while i bitch sometimes about fake kinksters wasting my time specifically, people like that have a place in the ecosystem and they are actually so fucking valid. There will be people in the room who have straight up drowned people erotically, people into blood play and needles, people into Daddy Dom little girl shit, furries, people into puppy play, and people into like... blindfolds and a little rope.

Everybody there who has any experience should know the importance of establishing a rapport with a new partner and going slow and nobody is going to think you're like a loser for not wanting your nipples hooked up to a car battery. Lots of people have tons of limits or really specific kinks or are into fairly tame seeming stuff -- and they feel all kinds of shame and anxiety and embarassment about all that, too! It's frankly a cute lovable thing about us human beings at the end of the day. We can feel like the nastiest most evil sex FREAKS of all time and like completely unexciting bland losers about the exact same kinks all at once. arent brains fun??

As for the fat fetish thing. Okay this is one where some people can be ignorant because of their own insecurities! Some fat people with their own body shit can be highly reactive to it, and of course thin people can be super shaming and othering. But, I think since you are fat, you run less risk of people saying to your face that you must be objectifying fat people, are a chaser, or (even fucking worse) that your interest in fat people is "unhealthy." Munches are definitely a mixed bag so there could certainly be your garden variety body insecurity non fat liberationist shit going on there, but like, just step away if people start talking about their own bodies in bothersome ways if you can and zero in on those fat hotties and bat your eyelashes at them and ask them how their night is etc.

I understand that being Autistic and weird and chilly and off putting etc is a very real phenomenon and I struggle with it as well -- but intense anxiety is always the other side of that coin. Kinksters are tabletop gaming and musical theater nerds and shit like that. They're Autistic and awkward as hell. It can be endearing, annoying, sexy, neutral, all that good shit. Try not to get into your head too much if you're just standing around saying nothing for a while. We've all been there. You are not fucking up. If you can, try and jump into some conversations or lurk on the corner of a group so someone can pull you in -- good munches will have an either formal or informal welcome wagon to at least get you introduced. But even if they dont, just try to quiet down your anxiety in your body using your preferred methods (breathing, stim toy, take a break, have a drink) and just try to enter a conversation by saying hello, complimenting what someone is wearing, asking someone's name, asking how people are, jumping in if you hear something being talked about that you care about -- it's not as big a risk as it feels, it helps break the ice.

Also, every munch is different! Some have a straighter crowd, others a far queerer one, some are mixed, some are more kinky and others are more generically social, so if this one doesnt work out try another if you can.

[stringsbasement]

i have more to say, mainly about peri and his parents' initial separation, as well as the parallels that can be found with this version of peri and hazel, but i feel it would be best to end it here :)

I would love more to hear about this.

cosmo and wanda's form of affection comes in constant and excess validation for every little thing peri does. they're clingy and suffocating with their love, and as much as peri grew to dislike it, he can't help but become dependent on this validation; it makes peri absolutely terrified of doing anything wrong which might disappoint them, and everyone else who perceives him

timmy might be the only one that would treat him normally. timmy's rough around the edges, but i can also see him being a jerk in the typical big brother style. being purposely annoying and rude, but loving and genuine enough to be real with peri when he needs it

they compliment each other— the worst godchild to ever exist, and the ultimate golden child

timmy doesn't expect anything of peri. he thinks he's special because he's family, not because he's a fairy baby, or because of some vendetta against his parents. and peri doesn't think timmy's a horrible person who ruins everything he touches. they see each other's flaws, and loves each other because of them

in "timmy's secret wish," peri is the first and last to successfully defend timmy's court case. (which, i mind you, he did by going poof poof poof in the speeches he made after timmy's other defenses utterly failed. he was able to just... do that. the judges didn't need to hear a single thing more because they all automatically trust him) (even if they did send him to the hocus poconos right after lmao) he's literally the only reason timmy's free at all. i have no doubt there's plenty of other, off-screen occasions where he uses his "status" to protect timmy

on the other hand, timmy enables peri into his antics, allowing him to just… goof off. have fun; cause chaos to his heart's content. he does things that he wouldn't otherwise, and it'll always be timmy who takes accountability so he wouldn't feel bad for it

so when timmy leaves, it undoubtedly affects him. it affect his freedom. it wouldn't matter how old he was— they were together for the first 8 (technically 50+) years of his life. that stuff sticks, subconsciously or not

so it comes time cosmo and wanda has to do something about it. what to do when a child's missing their brother?

hazel's case was straightforward. she needed companionship, assurance to ward off her fears, and a healthy dose of fun to loosen her up and take her mind off things

but what can you give a child who already has everything he could want? you give him as much love as you can, but wait, he pushes you away for it. shoot. so now you give him space, but he grows ever more distant, and when you realize you might've given him too much space, he's already off on his own, out of your reach

so you decide to go as well. you retire and take a long vacation with your partner, and you have faith that your child is doing something he loves and that he'll come back to you in his own time

and when that child is finally, utterly alone... there's nothing he can do but regret

peri wouldn't have much, if any, close friends he can truly confide with. not if he pushed them all away too

(with the way that fairies, pixies, and their respective antis are the dominant species, i'm guessing that the main reason is because other species don't live nearly as long. so usually, fairies rely on each other as forever companions. except no one but irep is even within peri's age group, (irep, who is antagonistic towards him on a good day,) which we know is an issue because of "poof's playdate," where they felt the need to turn other fairies into babies to get peri some socialization)

for hazel, she was able to acquire close friends over time through her own efforts. it's apparent in the finale just how much hazel has grown over the course of the show. at the start, she had difficulties overcoming her dependence towards her brother and coping with the changes in her life, but she adapted and turned that into her strength. she put herself out there and formed new bonds that, in the end, was the reason they were able to save fairy world

right off the bat, hazel and anthony parallels peri and timmy

anthony moved onward with life, while timmy wanted to stay a kid forever. the difference between them is that anthony knew he had a home to come back to, a family that will always be there to support him when he returns. timmy felt that once his memories are gone, he'll have nothing, because his fairies didn't just help him cope with his life, they replaced it entirely, to the point that timmy has no legs to stand on if they were to disappear

timmy loved too much, and cosmo and wanda had too much love to give. it ended up hurting them instead

cosmo and wanda learned that lesson, but peri didn't.

(i already have more ideas for him and dev and oh do they wound me...)

peri becomes a way hazel gets to see what it would be like if she never let go of anthony, and peri would see a glimpse of his younger self in hazel, who is happy and content with the life she was given despite the way things had to be

(peri and hazel understand each other the most, which is exactly why they wouldn't get along. i can imagine an interaction between them with hazel calling peri out, and him ignoring her)

when the cosma-fairywinkles reunite, cosmo and wanda's overbearingness after their reunion takes on a different light. it would be two parents trying to connect with the only child they have left when all he wants is for them to go away

(if cosmo and wanda tried to address timmy's bad influence in the past, it would be like pouring salt over a still-open wound. in peri's perspective, it's like they're trying to ruin timmy's image now that he's gone to so peri can get over him. it's kid logic. peri is too caught up in himself to remember that cosmo and wanda was with timmy first. they all love him. they all miss him)

peri had reinvented himself and has become someone else. someone cosmo and wanda might not like. he has run through every single reaction and still wasn't ready for immediate and unconditional acceptance. "i go by peri now!" and they don't even think to question it, they just love him like they always have. like they always will

and maybe it's in that moment that peri begins to think that his fears might have been for nothing

[greene-rph]

GILANARES "YOUR BRAIN IS IN THE SINK" ALBUM LYRIC STARTERS

IF CHAOS KILLED THE DINOSAURS

I'm not good without control.

I'm starting to give up hope.

I wonder what it'll do to me.

Its so hard for movies today not to rely on being violent.

I like a little gore sometimes.

i need a little more sometimes.

I'm sorry that I'm not very calming. I'm not sure why you thought that I would be.

Do you think it'll happen slowly or all at once?

Do you promise to at least hold me when all is said and done?

Do you think it'll get real ugly?

when all the doctors intervene it'll have been too late for me.

F33D TH3 B3AST

It's been a weird month.

Someones gotta pull the trigger.

I'm at maximum capacity right now.

I don't wanna slow down.

I crave the kinda things that could kill me.

I'm the bitch that just won't die.

At least I'm getting high.

I think I've got a problem.

I can't remember what I did.

I might need some help.

I'm getting overwhelmed.

I think the worst part is I like it.

We feed the beast and then we wonder why it's massive now.

We feed the beast and then we wonder how we wound up in its mouth.

There must be something in the screens, or something in the shit they're feeding us.

I try to scream, they never hear me.

I know they'd call it a conspiracy theory.

There's people drowning outside.

CAT'S OUT OF THE BAG

I gotta get out of the city.

I can't hear myself think.

I go through shrinks like a child growing out their old clothes.

I've tried taking it easy.

I always end up dying to see how fast I can go.

It's all gonna be fine.

I've gotta get away.

They lock you in, but the views so pretty.

That's enough to get through the day.

I've tried holding it in.

The cats out of the bag.

I tried suffocating him.

MY BRAIN IS IN THE SINK

My brain is in the sink.

My pride is in the bathtub, I watch it circle down the drain.

Can you please say my name?

I flushed my heart down the toilet.

I fear what I'm becoming.

I know its bad when I shower sitting down.

I have dreams where I'll just drown.

You don't think the way I think.

There's certain things that you don't get.

This might be beyond you.

Your mouth is moving, but I can't hear you talking.

I don't wish I was different, I just wish I was better.

If i scrub hard enough will that make me cleaner?

I disinfect my wounds but they get deeper.

You don't understand a single word I've said.

MOM, THE WORLD IS ENDING ANYWAY!

You just can't get as high as you used to.

Whats the point?

You'll do anything for instant gratification.

You're a spoiled brat.

Can they medically treat that?

Maybe you should look inside your brain.

The world is ending anyway.

We're all screwed.

You never made friends with moderation.

All that you crave is validation.

You don't even know how much they hurt you.

I think I get it now, why you're the way you are.

I don't know how we let it get this far.

WATER MY OWN GARDEN

I don't wanna get bad again.

Numb the feeling out by stealing something from the makeup aisle.

I don't wanna add another fatal fuck-up to my file.

I've got this incessant need to prove myself to everybody that I meet.

Life's a competition.

I get way too involved, I can't ever take things lightly.

I let sucess define me.

My parents always push me to do well.

How were they supposed to know I'd go fucking insane?

They tried to give me good advice.

I don't think I can do this anymore.

I don't wanna get bad again or bleed on bathroom tiles.

I don't care if it's disappointing.

I can't let all this shit inside my head destroy me.

I've been people pleasing since I was a child.

The grass seems to be greener when you make money and you're meaner.

They could all be lying to me.

I only see rich pretty people smile.

I think I've gotta water my own garden for a while.

MEET ME IN THE TRENCHES

I don't remember all the details.

Some guy warned me that we'd all be ruined by AI.

After that it all went black.

I don't know where I went.

I don't know if I'll see him again.

I think it messed me up.

It scares the shit out of me.

I carved a secret entrance out for you.

The dirt clings to everything.

I still don't know if this is all a dream.

They're just not telling us.

They won't let me leave.

Have you noticed… it's getting harder… to breathe..

It's getting harder… to breathe..

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

BNHA 420: Nothing About This is 'Okay'

It never fails.

After BNHA 420, I'm definitely done. The only thing that's stopping me from being OFFICIALLY done is the sunken cost fallacy. And some nostalgia in that I used to LOVE BNHA. I mean I still do, I love early BNHA, but the ending is really bad.

This last chapter pretty much did everything I feared. And I was just about to eat a slice of humble pie when it SEEMED like the author faked out the idea that Eri's Rewind would be utilized. But as it turns out... I WAS RIGHT! XD They used her after all.

For once I am not happy to be right. Because what went down was just so WRONG.

Because Eri almost seems GLAD to be used. And these so-called heroes are ENCOURAGING it. She literally mutilated herself just because she thought it would 'help' Deku and the others. This child hurt herself, a child way, way younger than the high-school aged 'heroes', hurt herself. And nobody's worried about it. Not even Aizawa! I don't count that look of shock as worry, otherwise he would have been a lot more upset with her.

But no, he just accepted what this little girl did to herself. No moral qualms about it whatsoever.

Using Eri no matter what was always going to be horrible, but the way it's been done is even more horrible than I could have ever imagined. And it has an extra horrible implication.

Hurt yourself to help people, and let that person hurt themself, even if they're SIX YEARS OLD because it's a 'rational' decision. That is such bullshit btw, how in the hell is that 'rational'? That's actually extremely concerning and yet nobody is even concerned, they just think it's a heroic act? My ass.

I'm still pissed that this little moeblob is truly an example of a perfect little victim who just seems innately good even though she really shouldn't be after everything she's been through. It makes ZERO sense and I really hate it.

I really don't like Eri or her role in this arc as many others are saying now, and I never have. People love to give me flak for it, but I don't care anymore. This is definitely the last straw for me and it just validated that my concerns were right all along.

An adorable little plot device that was always meant to be used for Deku and the heroes. Even though she was used by Overhaul, it apparently makes it 'okay' if the heroes use her because they're heroes. If anything, it not only makes them just as bad as Overhaul, it actually makes them WORSE than Overhaul.

Overhaul at least never pretended that what he was doing to Eri was okay, but the heroes are such hypocrites that they're using her too and calling it 'rational' and an act of heroism on her part. It's not.

And the worst part is the fandom seems to believe that this makes Eri 'so good' when no, it's deeply concerning for a child to do such a thing to herself. Her actions should NOT be praised, and I don't like the kid, but that doesn't mean I want to see her hurt herself!

It's not okay. None of this is okay. And I am once again, really not okay with this.

[multidimensionalguidance]

Dominant Archetype For 2024

Intuitive/Oracle Reading for all (12) sidereal signs

Services

I was able to find this beautiful and insightful deck with 80 different archetypes that represent the many facets of our unconscious, subconscious, and conscious mind. This is the dominant archetype you are currently and will continue on embodying for the remainder of the year. Enjoy <3

Aries

Prince Archetype

You're filled with romantic charm and potential for power. There's a need for being generous, fair, compassionate, and full of wisdom but it must be balanced. The shadow aspects of this archetype are manifested from a sense of entitlement, and using your position and power to your own interest regardless to needs nor impact on others.

There might be matters of love that you are sabotaging, own up to your self power and bring the change you deserve for yourself. Do not allow your old wounds and triggers to dictate your present or future decisions. You've been given the abilities to see beyond the superficial and understand where real power comes from.

Taurus

Goddess Archetype

This is the light feminine expressed through wisdom, nature, life force, and sensuality. You are fitting the energy of your ruling planet very well, but keep in mind that the shadow aspects manifest in extreme self indulgence, and exploitation of the female nature and form in some way.

Make sure you're putting all of this abundant energy towards becoming an active advocate of a cause that aids your self growth along with others. It is time to focus on developing within a community, just be wary of not using this to gain leverage or superiority over others.

Gemini

Victim Archetype

You might currently find yourself dominantly playing an archetype that prevents you from letting yourself be victimized or victimizing others, but it also implies the inability to receive positive feedback without playing the victim as well. You don't need sympathy nor pity from other in order to feel validated and seen. Your opinion is the only one that truly matters, find the strength behind it.

Keep in mind that everyone has this archetype, but the goal is to recognize it enough to stop inappropriate attitudes towards ourselves and act from a place of power. This card also speaks of not being able to maintain personal boundaries.

Avoid turning your pain into a joke all the time, its minimizing it and blocking you emotionally. Even if its helpful to laugh through the pain when needed, don't deny your emotions nor others.

Cancer

Midas/Miser Archetype

You are currently being a natural entrepreneur or having creative abilities that can turn into gold. This is a state of sharing your riches happily and enjoying abundance. The shadow comes from hoarding money, emotions, and having an obsessive fear of losing it. With this archetype wealth could be your best friend or worst enemy. What are you're willing to sacrifice for money?

It can be good to use your social abilities to become a jack of all trades, but be wary of the dangers behind only staying in shallow waters with all of your knowledge. Its not about cutting corners, specially when there's ulterior motives or hidden agendas.

Leo

The Hedonist Archetype

You are inspiring others with your creative energy to embrace the good things in life, and the joy of celebrating beauty in yourself. The shadow aspects are pursuing pleasure to a detrimental degree. It makes you indulge at the expenses of others. As if it was an insatiable appetite for life, good food, wine, sex, and sensuality.

Be mindful of not using your ability to identify aggressive/hostile tactics, hidden intentions, and humility to your advantage in certain situations. Do not succumb to taking what isn't your or bullying others when you're getting what you want. You can achieve your lifestyle goals without sacrificing your power to become codependent of others.

Virgo

The Trickster Archetype

There is a strong energy of transcending from conventional, uncomfortable, and painful predictable situations or behaviors. This helps you see situations outside of the box and give others creative alternatives. The shadow sides come in manipulating by not being honest with yourself and with others. Its your ability to find loopholes in situations and the compulsive need to move forward from anything negative as fast as possible.

It is also possible you're playing double agent due to divine intervention, meaning that you cannot or do not want to disclose what you know. Allow yourself to explore uncharted territory and situations that are simply out of your control.

Focus on your potential to see the sacred beauty and possibility in all things. Feed your inner child with hope, and not with pessimism or disbelief.

Libra

Rebel Archetype

You've been challenging authority to create a social change. It has been leading you to reject spiritual or governmental systems that are unable to serve nor satisfy your needs. The shadow side comes in rejecting all legitimate authority out of frustration, rebelling out peer pressure, or for outside validation.

There might be talents for creating and supporting life that are being positively appearing or conversely there might an abuse of authority arising. Pay attention to the current patterns in which you've had to rebel, and reflect on the underlying motivations.

Scorpio

Child: Nature Archetype

There are several expressions of our inner child, and for you the rest of the year will be all about friendship with animals and connecting with nature spirits very easily. There's a real toughness and ability to survive against all odds at this moment. You're respecting very heavily the seed of life that lays within all living and conscious creatures. The shadow side is hurting or abusing animals, people, or your environment.

You are or will be heavily tapping into your inner child and filling it with lots of magic and nurturing energy. Stay connected to your belief of knowing everything is possible, and be aware of any heavily pessimist, depressed, or distorted inner views.

Sagittarius

King Archetype

You are in a state of being completely aware, and choosing to take benevolent leadership in your life. Those who are around you or close to you are benefiting immensely from your charge. You give them a real sense of stability and control that comes from strong boundaries. The shadow aspect is an excessive feeling of entitlement and as if you deserve rulership without any restraint.

There will be plenty of meaningful learning and alchemizing that knowledge into long life wisdom. You have accepted with humility and devotion to simply become a learner of life and opening up to the lifelong journey. Don't allow arrogance limit your connection with others or keep you stuck from not knowing how translate knowledge into action.

Capricorn

Angel Archetype

You are helping those in need with no expectation of what you might receive back, and staying connected to divinity and angels at the moment. This is a state of being loving, nurturing in character, and being a sort of fairy godmother/godfather to those who are in need of some love and warm.

The shadow aspects come from acting falsely innocent/unaware to manipulate and mislead others, or falsely claiming to be in touch with angelic guidance.

It seems you're tapped into divinity from an inner child level, so your aura of innocence, purity, desire for redemption, or having a special connection with divinity is real and authentic. Cherish all of it while protecting your energy!

Aquarius

Rescuer Archetype

You are and will continue to provide strength, support to others in their moments of crisis, and truly acting out of love with no expectation of rewards. The shadow aspect is assuming that those you aid in their worst moments will reciprocate or keeping those you help in a constant state of need.

You are using your gift for mediating with fairness, strategy, and respect for all parties in different aspects of life, but be wary of doing this with ulterior motives or hidden agendas.

Pisces

Destroyer Archetype

You are releasing what is potentially destructive or preparing yourself for a complete new you, life, reality, etc. There is a deep call for a complete rebuild of yourself at the moment, and it can beneficial if you're letting go of self limiting beliefs.

The shadow aspect is becoming intoxicated with your power to create chaos/destruction and drowning those around you in the process. You need to become aware of your ability to notice when someone or something is draining you life force, and ensure that its not coming from you. You don't need to deplete others energy to survive, nor need to rely on codependency.

Think of the times when you've felt exhausted from interacting with others and the times where you've noticed others feeling this way after spending time around you. Are others taking too much? And how do you notice when you're doing it too?

[disventurecamptakes]

I love Jake so much it hurts seeing how hated he is. I get not liking his character purely because he's not interesting to you or something, but the hate for him is insane.

People act as though his character was completely ruined in one episode, but I feel like people don't even TRY to understand him as a character. People genuinely say he's completely irredeemable which isn't even true, and I've seen someone say ALESSIO is more developed than him which is literally hating just to hate at this point.

Jake, in my mind, is really just a heavily mentally ill person. You can argue you can't use that as an excuse, which is valid, but I see people excuse Ellie and everyone else with it to. RAGHH he's just so interesting to me. Getting with Tom in the first season, was basically knowingly throwing his life away.

He had to hide his former relationship due to his parents thoughts on it, and when he came to the show he finally found someone he can feel comfort in, someone who not only was sweet to him who he could finally open up to (which he probably isn't very used to, saying as he's basically had to hide major parts of himself his entire life, which is probably another reason his emotions are heavily flawed. A lack of support in daily life.) but also someone who comforted him through some of the worst times in his life.

Yes, he jumps to conclusions, and yes he needs to learn from that. He TRIES to talk to him, not at a good time, but this time he is willing to listen to him. Jake is probably extra paranoid, seeing as he was cheated on by his boyfriend of 3 (if I remember correctly) years, so he'd obviously not trust it. Jake should definitely get help, yeah, but that's what I'm SAYING. He's mentally ill, morally grey. He is flawed, but he is not bad or undeveloped.

Reach All Stars, Jake was abandoned by everyone. He's lost basically everything he's known except for Miriam, her being the only support system he had (which he's lucky for, he has no job, barely anyone in his life who really cares) and he's lost the most important person to him, Tom. (I understand both perspectives and I love how painfully flawed these two are)

Now this time, Jake should've gotten help, but I doubt he'd really think so. Jake's mental state has only declined over the past years due to how much he's been alone. I disagree with the Jake has Miriam thing purely because Jake doesn't seem like the type to just forcefully take from the ones he loves. He stated he was genuinely so depressed he tried to end it all (which I think was handled very poorly), showing just how genuinely horrible his mindset was coming into all stars. I honestly think he would've been MORE unstable than we saw him in all stars. Also, the support from his friends being called being "carried" is insane. Jake is mean to Ally, yes, and she's mean back. That's because both of them aren't well, though Jake tries to make amends in episode 14 and she leaves him to die. This was drastic and something he wouldn't do, so calling anything he does irredeemable yet saying she's alright is insane.

Jake's support from his friends, though, is NOT enough. He wouldn't have gotten better even despite this because guess what? His support is not proper help, they cannot do anything to truly help him in the state he is in. All they can do is comfort, which never reassures the paranoia he has no matter how much he wants it to. When he hurts Ally and Connor, it's acknowledged he hurts the ones he loves. It comes from a deep place where he feels he will never get better, and I love that. This episode was so interesting, seeing him fall back into old habits out of fear of being abandoned. I guess any attention is good attention.

Jake's grown a lot, as he seems far more stable by the end and has what he wants. Do I think his writing is perfect? No. That's why I love it. Jake is a well written mentally ill character, and I resonate with him a lot. (Plus, if you wanna add, it's heavily implied that he has BPD even in greetings, and possible autism.)

Thank you for listening. I love you Jake!! ^_^

.

[lovelyiida]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

TODOROKI X READER

SYNOPSIS: after all these years…

WARNINGS: implied fem reader, AGED UP! TODOROKI (28), swearing, slight-sexual themes, mentions of manipulation/mental abuse, crying, mentions of cheating, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, humiliation, angst, NO SPELL/GRAMMAR CHECK LOL

JOIN TAG-LIST

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 2.053k

today was the day you thought would never come. a day you thought would only be a figment of your worst dreams. a dream that would never dare phase through reality.

“what happened to when you used to love me?”

you loathed today.

the fear of I hate you, replaces I love you.

you sit across from your ex-lover, teary-eyed and tired. voice hoarse from the screaming argument the two of you just had. the rage and booming of voices became a still quietness, the stillness of acceptance, the stillness of grief.

the grief of losing love, seeing love die.

today, you saw love—die.

“was it me? was it my body? the way I act?”

you sit across from your ex-lover, distraught, trying to make sense of the situation unfolding. You got no response, being met with silence and an absent gaze.

you let out a shaky sigh, nose twitching as tears flooded your eyes.

“if you’re going to cheat on me, I deserve a fucking answer.”

a beat goes by, two beats, three beats, and another.

“No.”

No?

“there is nothing wrong with you, y/n.”

“so why did you cheat?”

silence…

“I…I don’t know.”

he doesn’t know.

“you don’t know?” you spat with venom, voice shaky, yet timid. the tears that brimmed against your eyes fell with one swift movement.

you hung your head low, quiet sobs turns into a broken, somber laughter.

You quickly slam your fists onto the table.

“I gave my everything to you!”

Todoroki looks at you, eyes filled with a dark void, unresponsive.

you didn't want to believe it in the beginning, you thought his little slip-ups were for a valid reason, from never picking up the phone, not answering your voicemails, coming home late into the night, and leaving early in the day.

the smells of her perfume, the hickeys on his chest. even though the two of you would regularly have sex, you never gave him hickeys...

"you sound delusional y/n," he said.

"why would I ever cheat on you? you're the only woman in my life," he said.

"I love you," he lied.

and maybe you were acting delusional, maybe it was just a figment of your imagination. Todoroki was a loving husband and an incredible father, he was also your best friend. nothing could have made you think otherwise.

but, love is blind.

the first time you caught him, you were visiting his agency, wanting to surprise him with some homemade lunch and some cookies the kids made.

your heels click-clacked onto the polished floors. a smile on your face as you greeted the staff with a respective bow.

today was supposed to be a good day.

Walking into the office area, you spot one of your close friends, Todoroki's comrade, and also a close friend, Iida. smiling his way you walk towards him, he turns your way with a smile but for some reason, his smile falters.

"y/n! I didn't know you'd be in today? why didn't you call?" he says, you detected a slight waiver in his words. tilting your head you scoff, "why would I need to call in to see my husband at his own agency, Iida?"

"no reason! it's just he's super busy with something right now so you might want to come back later--"

"listen, Iida, I just want to drop off some lunch me and the kids made for him. can I do that without you patronizing me? cut your old friend some slack, class president."

you begin to walk away until Iida takes grasp of your shoulder, "y/n!"

"yes?" you shout with irritance, Iida begins to stammer a little. "what is it?" you grow irritated with his antics.

"um, I just walked in to say–"

The both of you hear a door open, snapping your heads to the sound you see a woman walking out of your husband's office adjusting her clothes, and fixing her hair.

eyeing the girl down, you shrug Iida's hand off your shoulder and storm into his office. "hang in there, y/n!" he yells.

walking into your husband's office you see him adjust his tie, "who the hell was that, Shoto?" your voice catches Todoroki off guard. But not enough for him to show it.

"what're you doing here? I thought you took off work to be with the kids?" he says. "I was...me and the kids made lunch for you." you throw the bento box onto his desk, "don't bother coming home tonight."

you start to walk out until Todoroki grips your waist and slams you into the door, slamming it shut. you try to struggle out of his grasp, but he was stronger than you by a landslide.

"stop fighting me, y/n"

"let go of me, you bastard." you curse under your breath as your eyes begin to water, Todoroki leans down and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

you were so mad at him, so angry, yet you melted into his touch.

kissing him back, you tangle your fingers into his red-white locks. Todoroki lifts your legs up around his waist, walking over he softly sets you on top of his desk. Deepening the kiss, you let out a moan.

Todoroki starts to kiss your neck, throwing your head back, you allow him more access. opening your legs wider you feel his bulge grind against your entrance, he groans at the feeling.

before you could let things get any further, you push him away from you. breathing heavily, you stare at him, his eyes seem darker than usual. "who is she?" you spat. Todoroki lets out a displeased sigh, "she's no one you need to worry about--"

"who. is. she." you angrily whispered.

rubbing his face, he backs up from your figure, hands still wrapped around your waist. "she's an intern, transferring from Midoriya's agency. she... doesn't like the position she's currently stationed at. so she walked into my office and began to strip and flung herself onto me."

you curl your lips into a thin line as your eyes water, "but, I stopped her as soon as she started it. and I fired her, blacklisting her from any other UA-affiliated agencies."

you let out a relieved sigh, smashing your lips into his, you smile. being thankful you had such a wonderful, loyal, husband.

"I love you, Shoto."

you loved him...

Then, these little appearances between him and "interns," were more frequent than you thought.

you and Todoroki attended a yearly banquet for all of the UA hero course alumni, tonight you were able to catch up with so many of your old friends, it felt like old times back when you were a teenager.

"you and todoroki have been a thing for how long, now?"

"8 years! our fifth-year wedding anniversary will be in October, actually." people could tell by the way you gushed whenever you talked about your husband and kids. they were your pride and joy, obviously.

"wow, that's amazing y/n, y'know maybe if Mina would stop partying around like a drunk pansy, we would actually be able to settle down and have some kids." you laugh at Kirishima's complaint.

"you, Mina, and the words 'have some kids,' don't quite match, sadly" you laughed.

Kirishima chuckles, turning his head he frowns. "oh god, here comes this narc." turning your head you scoff at the sight before you, "oh, Monoma!' you "happily" shout.

Monoma walks over, trapping his arm around Kirishima, he slurs over his words. "look what we have here, more shitty 1-A students."

he's obviously drunk.

"how've you been Monoma?" you smile.

"I've just been busy being successful, having the 5th-ranked best hero agency in the country. having multiple successful businesses, and I'll be putting out a book soon. can't say I haven't been blessed."

Kirishima rolls his eyes, "you'd think with all those 'blessings' you'd be blessed with a better personality." you can't help but let out a quiet chuckle.

"and you'd think after all these years, you'd be more successful than me. all you have to your name is a sidekick title and a failing marriage, too bad though." Monoma gulps the rest of the wine, letting out a burp he blows it into Kirishima's face.

"oh, fuck you!" Kirishima pushes Monoma off him in anger, slamming him into the floor. you could see his spikes start to ripple off his skin. You lay a hand on Kirishima's back and frown, trying to console him.

"y'know what Monoma, I think you need some water," you say.

Monoma, looks into your eyes and shows a sinister smile. Stumbling back up he walks towards you. pointing his finger in your face, you scowl.

"do you know what you need?" he chuckles.

"hm?" you anticipate his answer, sipping slowly from your glass of wine.

"you need to figure out that your husband has been sleeping around with my secretary and all the interns in the fucking city." he laughs loudly, your eyes widen in shock.

"excuse me?"

"not fucking cool bro!" Kirishima yells.

"oh please, stop with the act, you know too! everyone knows! and you would know too y/n, only if you weren't so busy playing mommy-maid you'd figure it out!"

You didn't know what to say, honestly. Your eyes water, "everyone knows this?" you look at Kirishima. He frowns, giving you all the answers you needed.

"sorry you had to learn about it this way, I'm the last person who wanted you to figure it out like this--"

Monoma's mantra was cut short with a sharp splash of white wine (and the glass) to the face.

"go to hell!" you screamed.

so you were right all along...

all eyes shoot towards the three of you, Kirishima looks around and tries to calm you down. but you turn into a cursing frenzy, some of your classmates came to your aid.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"are you alright?"

denki, mina, shoji, and ojiro come towards you. circling around and shielding you from the other's gaze.

"I thought you guys were my friends!" you cried, dropping to your knees you cry harder.

"we are your friends! what would make you think otherwise?" Ojiro asks.

"she knows..." Kirishima adds.

everyone backs up from your figure, looking around frantically. Mina speeds off to find Todoroki.

to summarize, you were oblivious to the cheating.

it was already embarrassing enough that some sponsors recorded the interaction and posted it on the internet.

After that night, things changed forever.

You moved out of the house, taking the kids with you. You resined your position with your agency and started to stay at home with your kids permanently, at least until your funds couldn't support that option anymore.

Todoroki was never at home anymore, he was always out. Either out patrolling, sleeping around, or getting drunk.

and here you are today, sitting across from your ex-husband, finalizing your divorce.

"I gave you my heart, my soul, my body, two beautiful children..."

"I gave you something you never had, I gave you love."

you sat, with your head down, licking the inside of your cheek. you let out an exasperated sob before quickly composing yourself once more.

"I gave you a family"

Todoroki's eyes shed a single tear.

"I-I'm so sorry, please forgive me...please y/n"

shaking your head, cry even harder.

"a-and to even think...to even think that I would be with you forever. to be at fault for thinking we would grow old together, to be at fault for thinking we would both finally have a healthy family, to be at fault for thinking that I was happy!"

Todoroki cries harder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" falling onto his needs and crawling over to your legs, bowing his head down he rubs his hands together, begging for forgiveness.

You look down at him in disgust, you feel bad for him, you shouldn't, but you do. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you get up from your seat.

"get up."

Todoroki scrambles and gathers himself to his feet.

Gazing up at his eyes, one icy and one golden, your lips tremble.

Leaning into him, you rest your hands on his face. Todoroki slips his hands onto your waist.

"please..." he trembles.

lifting his hair from his head, you plant a soft kiss on his forehead. Softly, you push yourself away from his embrace. Digging into your purse you pull out the final documents for your divorce.

Looking at the calendar you read the date, October 22nd...

"happy anniversary."

kinda ass I KNOW… this was one of my older works before I started to write better, so I might go back and fix this up if I might make a whole new version, tell if I should down below PLEASE!

I know I said I would update more, but life got to me. Almost at 1k followers tho! Fuck it we ball.

nah because past me ate with his one y'all!!!

⎯ lovelyiida ♥︎

❥: @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @sad0ni0n , @whore-for-anime, @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz, @zukowantshishonourback, @ilovedenk-i ,@ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls, @kennshifts, @ackerman-suck-3-r , @elegantvoids, @sunyrose, @thekookiecorner, @winterv-black, @rubymha, @katsukisxslut,

[codenamesazanka]

What do you fear the most that mhas epilogue will do and make sure to list your other fears too

Oh god.

I think my biggest fear is Deku going to visit Spinner, and Spinner will validate his ignorant, arrogant, unheroic ass. Whether it's 'Thank you for trying to save Shigaraki' or 'Sorry Tenko stayed being Shigaraki for me and the League instead of giving in to you' or 'Wow, you really are the true hero Stain saw' or 'I see that Shigaraki has entrusted his will on you, so I will cheer you on from now on'.

Of course, a Spinner who validates Deku and essentially surrenders to the Heroes' way of doing things is only a symptom of a much bigger problem that is "Silly League of Villains, Heroes were right all along, save for some tiny mistakes, and now it's time to repent and assimilate" - an overall epilogue where nothing actually changes except some people learn to feel pity and vows to be nicer. So I guess that's my true, core fear. But it's manifesting in Spinner turning into a Deku groupie. Yeah, why not befriend the guy who killed your actual friend and believe in his way of doing things that got your friend killed.

-

Another Spinner fear I have is actually Spinner becoming a 'true' spokesman for the Heteromorphs - less because he doesn't deserve it, more because it's likely that it means his 'stance' has gone to Shouji level and he's telling everyone to not be like him and instead work harder to brave being sprayed by pesticides and endure bullying. So, fear of Spinner being tokenized (again) and becoming a Shoji-like kind of Heteromorph advocate.

Like, I've always thought Spinner's 'fix' was that he should be allowed to be entirely mediocre and be treated right. Put another way, he's not obligated to be exceptional in order to deserve basic decency/proper treatment. Even the worst, most selfish, resentful, weak-quirk, intelligence D, League of Legends gamer loser you know shouldn't be subjected to fantasy racism, because no one should. If he's an advocate, he's an advocate for the losers of the heteromorphs - the weaklings, the delinquents, the criminals? But that's not a very inspiring message! Instead, Heteromorphs should shine bright - and that's the message the manga and Shouji is giving.

Also like, there's no way the new powers that be will let him near a microphone without being declawed - last time he did so, he literally started a riot. There's no way they let him talk about his true feelings - that he was empty; that with the hundreds of Heroes on TV, none gave him hope for change; that it took a most outcasts-of-outcasts Villain team for him to ever feel accepted.

Spinner being an 'advocate' I think would be more him being a cautionary tale - "don't be like me, I'm a Villain and I'm stuck in Tartarus 2.0 for life; you can fight for your rights but not like I did!" He deserves better than that. Heteromorphs deserve better than that.

My other fears

Shigaraki stays dead

Shigaraki comes back but as five-year-old Tenko, so that Heroes can 'raise him properly' to be a Hero

We learn Toga died

We learn Dabi died but Endeavor lived

We never see the MLA ever again

We don't get more Compress backstory

Moonfish gets executed

Gran Torino doesn't die

Hawks being relevant

Hawks still facing no satisfying consequences for killing Twice

Twice being remembered by no one except his killer who's still vaguely mournful about his death but it was for the greater good, he really did think Bubaigawara was a decent guy

HPSC revived

No mention of anything being done about the HATE CRIMES AGAINST CHILDREN in the countryside. Shoji's 'let's shine bright' was it.

Quirk Counseling not completely revised

Aizawa and Mic still basically cursing out Shigaraki for stealing Shirakumo from them and not realizing Kurogiri/Shirakumo genuinely cared about the kid

No one bringing up how fucked up Iron Maidens and Tartarus is.

Tartarus 2.0 is back and everything is exactly the same but the wardens are nicer because they went through sensitivity training

That ending where the manga fast toward 12 years and everyone is in extremely heterosexual marriages with children. Part of this means teenaged Kouta and Eri are hinted to be crushing on each other or something. god.

[you-matter-dear]

If you have felt chronically invalidated or don't trust your own decision making skills and want to feel more confident in your own abilities, I would suggest trying some or all of these things;

Find someone you trust and respect to be your sounding board. NOT the person/people who make you feel small and incompetent! The point is to teach your mind and nervous system that your invalidator doesn't have some sort of secret higher knowledge nor a monopoly on logical thinking.

Sit with your decision privately for a while. Don't ask others opinions, don't look for outside validation, don't give yourself the opportunity to be immediately discouraged by the invalidating person/people. Sit with yourself in your quiet moments. Wonder about what that decision might look like and how you might feel after. What do you want? Will it make you happy? Will it make your life better, even a little?

Try recognizing the small, safe decisions you make that end up going right. You tried a new sandwich place and it ended up being really good. You took a chance on that book and you learned a lot. You took a different route to get to work and saw a cool house. You make a TON of decisions every day--there are plenty you have already made that were a good idea!

When you're ready for outside input, start with your trusted source or other supportive environments. Tell someone you trust to not immediately shut you down or dismiss you--a therapist, an online friend, a respected community leader, a kind relative, or even that friendly barista you chat with. Give someone a chance to respond with enthusiasm, thoughtfulness, and reciprocation. There are people who will delight in your successes and support your ideas. Find them in your life!

No self defeating language!! No 'i probably can't do it', no 'but I'm not good at that', no 'i always fail'. Talk about how you feel, not defining reality before it even happens. 'I'm really worried I won't meet my own expectations' or 'in the past, this has been really hard for me'. This opens the door to solutions, support, and reflection with the people you're talking to. It invites them into a conversation about times when they didn't feel confident or let's them suggest things that have helped them in similar situations in the past! You open a dialogue for yourself instead of entrenching yourself in old stories that might not even be true. Don't stop yourself before you even start.

Pay attention how much YOU notice/don't notice other people in public. Chances are, you are sensitive about feeling judged or silly. You might think that that cashier is rolling their eyes at you, that guy that looked up when you walked in is annoyed you're here. Pay attention to how much YOU think about random strangers. That janitor you saw the other day: do you remember their shoes/hat/nails/etc.? Are you studying and judging the people walking by you on the street? As a general rule, other random people in public are paying about as much attention to you as you are to them. Everyone has stressful lives, a list of things to do, and songs stuck in their own heads. (This is barring things like transphobia, racism, sexism, and other micro/macroaggressions, of course. I acknowledge that this is not a privilege granted to everyone.)

Ask yourself 'what is, realistically, the absolute worst that can happen from this decision?' Especially if the decision is fairly low stakes and non-permanent, like getting a daring haircut or color, trying those new, loud earrings, trying to grow/shave your facial/head/body hair. I find it useful to follow up fearful thoughts with, 'okay, and then what?' (ex. "What if it looks terrible?"-- "Okay, then what?"-- "I'll be embarrassed and people will think I look weird!"-- "Okay, then what?" --"They might stare at me or make a mean comment!"-- "Okay, then what?" "I'll feel bad!"-- "Okay, then what?" Your hair will grow back, people whose opinions you care about won't be cruel and life will move on.)

THEN ask yourself; 'What could go right?' Balance! If you're spiralling or panicking with 'what ifs', try to make the opposite just as proportional and realistic. Even if it's hard to envision yourself succeeding, if your brain says something like; 'I could fail and then lose all my friends and I'll die alone!!' you can always make sure to counter with 'or I could succeed SO well that someone falls in love with me on the spot and I get a million bucks and move to my own private island'. Illustrate how ridiculous both sides of the spectrum are! Put into perspective the likelihood each of these scenarios.

Remember, no one else is you. Other people have knowledge of what worked for them, ideas and world views they are operating on that they will be convinced is the ONLY and BEST way. They. Are not. You. They can advise and suggest and caution, but only YOU can live your life. You will be affected. You know what works and what doesn't (or you can learn). You are the only one you spend every moment of every day with. You are your own closest companion. There is no one who knows more about you than YOU. Other people may have different insights and observations that may help you know yourself better, but they can ALSO have false, ill fitting narratives that have more to do with their trauma or internal story than they actually do with you. Question the stories given to you about yourself. Question when someone defines you, labels you as something that just feels bad--lazy, sloppy, loud, annoying, ditzy. Something in you just balked at that story. Find out why!

Accept that you might not be able to convince/change your invalidator. Look. This person or people might well be someone you love dearly, live with, or has some sort of power over you. You might not want or be able to cut contact. They may be unpredictable, sick, struggling with their own stress, from a completely different culture/mindset/generation. They may even acknowledge that this is something they need to work on but then never do. The only thing you can be certain to have control over changing is yourself. You cannot wait for them to decide that it's important enough to change their behavior because they haven't so far. You don't need to harbor anger or resentment in this process of healing (though, if you do, that's perfectly valid and normal). You don't need to feel like you're gearing up for a confrontation with them. It doesn't need to be about them. This is about you trusting yourself. It's about you living the life that settles you, fills you, grounds you. It's about getting to a place of being comfortable with uncertainty and expansion. You deserve to grow, heal, and change. It's not about them. This isn't about them.

Feel confident in your decision before you tell your invalidator. When you have a network of trusted sounding boards, go to them, talk out the pros and cons, the logistics and your worries. Talk through the logic of it so you know your plan and you feel comfortable (or as comfortable as you can) with your decision. If it's something your invalidator needs to know, make sure you aren't looking for their approval; you're telling them your decision. Be unassailable. Feel calm and confident. Be at a point in your decision that even their worst, most invalidating or dismissive reaction will not sway your resolve.

[say-hwaet]

That's the Way It Is

Chapter 29: This is America, Part II Next Chapter: Coming Soon! Summary: The bank robbery continues, as Arthur, you, and the rest of the gang try to make their escape out of Saint Denis. Warnings: Mature themes, Language, Violence Word Count: ~10,400

The room is finally still, though Arthur knows that the city outside is far from peaceful. This is the worst it has ever been, even with all the heists and dangerous encounters he has found himself in over the past twenty years. To be cornered like this, in a dark room, surrounded by enemies and friends alike, feels like the worst it could ever be.

Micah. He could kill him right now, spare the rest of the gang the trouble, but that would be reckless. He has you to think about. You to protect.

For a brief moment, he thought he had nothing to lose, but now that you are here, sleeping on his lap, he knows he has to think carefully.

At least he got John out. At least that fool made his way to Abigail.

At least, he hopes so. You haven’t told him if John is alive or not.

Hosea. His father. The man who raised him to have some good in him. Now he’s dead. He wants to cry. Dear Lord, he does, but he can’t. He will save it for another day, another time when he can just be alone with you and grieve as a son ought to for his father.

And Micah had the audacity to blame you for his death.

Arthur knows you will give him the details later, this he can count on.

As he watches everyone sleep his eyes scan about the room.

That’s when his eyes meet Lenny’s.

He isn’t sleeping, instead alert and watchful, also on guard duty. Something has shaken him. Well, he doesn’t need to guess.

Lenny looks pensive. Like he wants to do something but struggles within himself. As they look at each other, Arthur wants to jostle him out of his gaze. A lift of his brow, a nod towards the window?

But Lenny breaks the gaze, nodding towards the door.

What, did he hear something?

Before he can question it further, Lenny suddenly gets up, his steps quiet and methodical as he makes his way to the door.

He waves at Arthur. He wants him to follow.

He needs to be quiet. Carefully lifting your head off of his lap, he slips away, not before resting your head back on his jacket that you have been using for a pillow.

Stepping softly, Arthur follows Lenny, each tread a silent promise to return to you. His heart pounds not just from the tension of the unknown, but from the fear of leaving you even for a moment in such perilous times. The creak of the old floorboard under his boot seems like a shout in the quiet twilight, but Lenny gestures for silence with a sharp look. They reach the door, and Lenny pauses, his hand on the knob, listening intently. After a moment that stretches into eternity, he cracks the door open just enough to peer down the hall.

Seeing the coast is clear, he steps out, and Arthur follows.

They only make it a few steps, not wanting to go too far, before they stop.

“What is it, Lenny?” Arthur asks.

“Do you think we will make it out of this?”

There is worry in the boy’s question, and somehow he wants some sort of validation from Arthur. Why him? There’s no question that the boy looks up to him, but he isn’t the one with sage words.

That is Hosea’s department. Or even yours.

He rolls his shoulders. “There’s a chance. If we’re smart,” he answers flatly. “It ain’t lookin’ good right now, but—”

Lenny shakes his head, keeping his voice low. “That ain’t what I mean.” He tucks his chin and exhales. “I’m talkin’ about after. Livin’ somethin’ different.”

Arthur focused his gaze, leaning close with a pensive brow. “What brought this on?”

Lenny looks back towards the door, waiting, as though expecting someone to follow them out here. After a moment, he looks back at Arthur. “Kit said somethin’ to me before all this.”

Sounds like you made your rounds. You’ve always been a heartful soul, any moment you can take to help rescue someone else, you’ll take it. That’s your way. You’ll use your power of speech to get someone to rethink things. Hell, it’s been used to help change his mind sometimes. “Did she?” he asks.

Lenny nods. “Yeah. She told me that Jenny…” his voice trails off and he swallows thickly.

“What about her?”

“She didn’t trust Micah. I mean, nobody does. I still say everyone will celebrate when he dies…” He lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s gaze. “But it almost seemed…worse than trust. Like fear.” He shakes his head. “Jenny wasn’t a coward. She was scared for a reason, and if Kit’s pickin’ up on that too, well…” Lenny’s voice fades as he stares down the dimly lit corridor, his eyes searching the shadows.

Arthur feels the weight of those unspoken words heavy in his chest. You always had an uncanny way to sense trouble before it happened. The ferry heist and even now.

You clearly tried to help Lenny see the writing on the wall. Maybe all he needs now is a little push. “It ain’t gonna end well, Lenny,” he sighs. “Hosea wanted better for you.”

“Yeah, I know. We talked about…books and learnin’…” A small smile grows on Lenny’s lips. “My daddy was educated and I think he wanted that for me, too.” His smile fades. “He’d be turnin’ over in his grave if he knew where I am right now.”

Arthur feels something paternal strike him. His own boy, Isaac, dead in the ground for six years, always sought validation and approval. He would be nearing eleven years old now, the same age Arthur was when his own father was hung at the gallows. Over and over he’s seen the pattern repeating itself and here he is, in front of a young man, with the chance to change the course of another life for, maybe, the better.

"You got choices, Lenny," Arthur says, his voice deep and earnest as the shadows flicker around them. "Choices that ain't gonna lead you down the same dark paths some of us took. Hosea saw somethin’ in you, somethin’ good. You gotta hold onto that.” He pauses and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And sometimes the best thing you can do…is leave.”

Lenny studies him for a minute. “What are you sayin’, Arthur?”

“I think you know.”

Arthur's words hang in the air between them, heavy like the fog that blankets the valley at dawn. Lenny's eyes glint with a mix of fear and resolve, indicators of a young mind wrestling with the magnitude of its choices. The remaining light casts its shadow against the rough wooden walls, elongating their forms as the two men stand in the hallway.

“When can I do that?”

“Now.”

Lenny blinks. “What?”

“Use the rooftops to get out of the city. Go back to camp. Warn the others what’s happened. Tell them to make their choices as to who they’ll follow. Those who want to go will go without a second thought.” He removes his hand from Lenny’s shoulder. “I’ll cover for you. I’ll tell Dutch somethin’ he’ll believe.”

Lenny nods slowly, the decision settling into his bones like the cool night settles into a valley. “And what about you, Arthur?” His voice trembles slightly, not with fear, but the burden of upcoming separation.

Arthur then offers a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got Kitka, remember?”

Lenny smiles bittersweetly and carefully begins to head towards the stairway. “You’re lucky, you know.”

Arthur nods. “I know.”

And he watches the boy go.

***

Arthur slipped back into the room without alerting anyone. Though instead of returning to you he leaned against the wall and watched the night grow dark from the boarded window. 

He looked about the room and when his eyes fell upon Dutch an idea occurred to him. That saddlebag that he cradled in his arms like a lifeline, had gold bars in it. While the robbery went to hell, there was still something that could be reaped. If he could take a couple, then wake you, you both could slip out of there and out of the city. Just the two of you. 

He felt his hands grow clammy at the thought. He wasn’t any sort of pickpocket, and he questioned whether he ought to wake you up first, perchance you could pull it off, but he didn’t have the time to dawdle. Any second wasted thinking about it was a second he could have been using to get the gold.

So, now, with a soft exhale, Arthur carefully makes his way over to where Dutch is sleeping. He was always a heavy sleeper, and Arthur hopes that will work in his favor now. 

It feels as though the room stretches forever, each step slow and steady. If you were awake, maybe you could pull it off better than he, but Arthur has to trust his own instincts. He knows the risks, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The gold of Dutch’s rings gleam dimly in the lantern light, a siren's call promising a chance at a new beginning away from the gang’s inevitable downward spiral, but also as a warning, for his fingers could just as easily catch Arthur in the act.

As he reaches Dutch's side, the outlaw's breathing remains deep and even, untroubled by dreams or disturbances. Arthur feels a bead of sweat trickling down his temple as he gently, delicately reaches toward the saddlebag. As his fingers slip inside it, they brush against the cool metal of the gold bars, their heavy presence reassuring yet terrifying in its implications.

Then, suddenly, Dutch stirs.

Arthur immediately recoils his hand, unsuccessful at retrieving a bar.

Dutch snorts as he wakes and he clears his throat, opening his eyes and looking at Arthur in the dim light. “Arthur, what’re you doin’?”

Arthur swallows. “I had just stepped out to take a piss. Thought I’d ask you about guard duty before I turned in myself.”

Dutch frowns, squinting slightly as if the words don’t sit right with him. But the temptation of sleep is too strong, and with a grunt, he settles back into his seat holding the saddlebag tighter. “Well, ask Micah.” Then he smacks his lips. “Don’t let me keep you up. We need all the rest we can get.”

Arthur nods, a forced smile tugging at his lips as he turns away, feeling the weight of missed opportunity pressing down on his shoulders. You stir then, your eyes blinking open, noting the tension in Arthur’s frame.

“What happened?” you whisper, your voice hoarse with sleep.

Arthur shakes his head slightly, crouching beside you. He isn’t about to tell you about Lenny, or his botched attempt at thieving, the worst attempt he’s ever made. “Nothin’, Kit. Get some sleep, alright?”

You nod and are quick to lay your head back down and doze off, unaware and oblivious. And after waiting a minute or two, he stands up and goes back to the window, watching the night. 

It wouldn’t have worked, to sneak off now. There would be no one to cover for you both, like he can for Lenny.

Well, maybe Charles could do it. They managed to talk some back at camp as he was walking with him to see Dutch. 

Charles wanted to go back and help Chief Rains Fall and his son, he said that their land was going to be taken from them if something didn’t change. When Arthur reminded him of the papers he and you stole, Charles confirmed that he gave them to the chief, so perhaps in the right hands, they’ll do some good. 

He had planned to stock up and leave again, but got pulled into this instead. 

“Maybe you shoulda stayed up there,” Arthur suggested, passing it off as a joke with a chortle. 

But Charles didn’t find it amusing. He took it rather seriously, as it was meant to be taken. “I thought about it,” he said flatly. 

And that was all that could be said, because they walked into the mansion and Dutch was waiting for them. 

Now, here they both are, where they don’t want to be. 

Arthur knows that it won’t be long before they follow through with Dutch’s plan. Sneaking out of Saint Denis won’t be an easy task. If you all can get a boat, as soon as you hit land, he and you will split off then and find your own way. Maybe one day you both will meet up with John again. As long as he’s alive by then, Arthur doesn’t care when that is. 

He had left his satchel back at camp, entrusting Abigail to pack it with her things. He wishes he had it now, so he could maybe jot down his thoughts. He can’t share them with you right now, though he wishes to. 

He turns his head to see you still asleep, your beautiful face at peace for once. 

He wishes you had gone on without him. 

***

Arthur feels a sharp nudge into his shoulder, jostling him awake. “Arthur, wake up!”

Arthur opens his eyes. He can’t see in the dark, but he’d recognize Dutch’s voice anywhere, even if it is a whisper. “Whu—what, Dutch?”

“Help me wake up the others. We need to leave. Now.”

As Arthur wakes up, his mind tries to gather thoughts and recollections of what has happened in the last few hours. He almost escaped fully in his dreams, dreams of you, of Oregon, of a place as far as his mind could take him. 

When Dutch stirred him, his first thought was that it was to tell him that Lenny is missing but to his relief, it was only to leave. Being so dark, he may not even notice. 

Time will tell if he ever does. 

Arthur nods, even in the pitch black, and he moves to find you. Using his memory of the room and of where he left you, he makes careful steps to the corner of the room. 

His boot makes contact with your leg and you stir. 

Squatting down, his hand finds your thigh and he moves it to your shoulder and gives it a gentle shake. “Darlin’,” he whispers. “Get up.”

Thankfully, your movements indicate you’re waking up, and placing both his hands on you, he helps you sit up. He hears more rustling and shuffling about the room, indicating that the others are getting ready to move. 

“Is it time?” you ask sleepily. 

He reaches his hands to your face, feeling the skin and imagining the shine in your eyes, the redness in your lips. “Yeah,” he answers. “We gotta go.”

He feels you nod in his hands. Letting you go, he rises to his feet and you soon follow. Quietly moving, a soft glow suddenly appears in the room. 

Dutch holds a lantern and regards you all. “Let’s go…” And with that, he leads the charge, stepping out the door and walking down the hall towards the flight of stairs. Micah and Bill immediately step next in line, shoving each other in competition to be the first out the door after Dutch. The tension among them is a constant, undying flame, even in moments of urgency.

You stand close to Arthur, your body radiating heat as you press against him. He can feel the rumble of whispers and low voices, everyone preparing for another run. He coaxes you to go in front of him, so you remain in his sight and where he can protect you best.

Charles is the last to leave the room and soon, you all follow down the stairs. 

Putting out the lantern and stepping out into the night, the gang of robbers remains crouched as you all follow Dutch down the wet, cobbled street. It seems to have been raining for a little while, but a mist remains, adding to the chilling atmosphere of the night. Your feet slip slightly on the slick stones, and Arthur's hand is quick to steady you. The air smells of wet earth and wood smoke, a soothing scent amidst the tension of escape. The lamplights cast auric-like beams in directions that Arthur does not like, but you all keep to the shadows.

Arthur’s legs begin to burn as he follows the crouched line of thieves and gunslingers, his eyes glancing between the open street in both directions and you as you remain ahead of him. 

Dutch leads you all towards an empty train and stops just at the base of one of the cars. He looks back at the group, first looking at Arthur. “Okay…” then as his eyes regard each member, Arthur sees his eyes backtrack and his brow pinch in confusion. “Where’s Lenny?” There is an awkward pause. “No one cared to check if Lenny was with us?!” he growls lowly, and Arthur is somewhat surprised to hear such concern in his voice. 

“I know where he went,” Arthur speaks and all eyes, including yours, fall on him. 

“Where…?!”

“To go get Hosea’s body.” Arthur bows his head, shaking it softly. “I told him it was a fool’s errand to do it now, all by himself, but he said that Hosea deserved better than that.” He watches Dutch’s expression soften. “He said he’d try to meet back up with us, but…”

Dutch nods. “Best move on, then. We can’t wait for him to come back and find us.”

“It takes time to bury a body,” Charles says in a low tone. “If done right.”

“And we’d only want the best,” Bill adds. “For Hosea.”

Dutch swallows, only letting two words leave his lips. “For Hosea.”

Arthur turns to you and sees something different in your eyes. Guilt? Reverence? He isn’t sure. 

But he knows you well enough to recognize when something weighs heavy on your mind. He leans closer, his voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of whispered plans and hushed fears. "You alright, Kit?"

Your gaze flickers to meet his, those hazel eyes revealing more than words could express. "I’m fine.”

He will have to accept that for now, for he doesn’t have the chance to share his doubt when you all hear voices on the other side of the train car.

“Guards,” Dutch whispers. “Up ahead.”

This isn’t good. You all still have a bit to go to reach the boats and shooting them would risk alerting the whole city. Arthur grumbles to himself, cursing under his breath.

Suddenly, he feels a gentle nudge. Turning he sees you moving towards the train car, climbing up the steps while still crouched.

He reaches to grab your arm, but you swat him away.

“Through the train, Arthur…!” you whisper. “Come on!”

Nobody, even Dutch, seem to protest and so without much hesitation, he follows you close behind, carefully going up the steps and into the train car.

You remain crouched and so keeping low, Arthur remains close behind you as you walk down the aisle.

You suddenly stop and lifting his head, he can see an oncoming light from the left of the car. You pat him as you reach behind. “Let’s keep going, just stay low…”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he answers back, and you two keep moving silently through the narrow aisle until you reach the other side.

Taking a peek, you stick your head out between the car you both are in and the next one, looking left and right. You reach back and pat Arthur’s knee. “Okay…” you say and move carefully across, stepping into the next car.

Arthur looks behind him to see Dutch and Javier enter the first car. Progress is progress, no matter how small. He looks ahead and makes his way into the next train car to keep up with you. He’s thankful for the dark, otherwise this would be a far different scenario. He tries to keep his breath steady, knowing that the slightest mistake could lead to his death, or worse, yours.

The mist collects on the windows of the car and streams down in soft streaks, distorting the world outside. Any bit of light makes it seem like a painting, an image that is almost as mesmerizing as it is frustrating. How can he tell what’s out there?

His thoughts have left him distracted for a moment. So distracted, that he hasn’t noticed the firm pats you’ve delivered to his knee.

“Arthur…!” you hiss. “Duck!”

Coming out of his thoughts, he looks up and sees an oncoming light. Without a second to spare, he hurries behind one of the passenger seats and ducks his head behind the backrest of the seat in front of him.

But you are still in the aisle.

His eyes widen just as you quickly slide your body underneath a nearby seat, your small body contorting in such a way that it looks pressed against the floor. His heart beats like a frantic drum, you being only milliseconds away from being spotted.

The light sweeps through the train car, casting eerie shadows that flicker and dance on the walls. For a moment, things are more dangerous, and Arthur holds his breath.

“I don’t see why we have to check the train,” the man says.

Arthur can see your eyes and watches as your lips form the word, ���Pinkertons.”

You must have caught a glimpse before you slid under the seat. Pinkertons. The law. He figured they wouldn’t give up so easily, not after everything, after what he has seen.

“They just robbed the Lemoyne National Bank. It isn’t like they’re gonna catch a train straight out of town…” the agent continues, his voice agitated, fatigued, and annoyed. Arthur is happy that these men are somewhat inconvenienced, but at the same time, their presence closes the walls in around him and you.

Arthur then hears another voice, more raspy and hushed. “But Milton said—”

“Milton said a lot…!” There is a hushed silence, as if those words were pure treason. After a moment or two, the agent speaks again. “Come on, I don’t wanna be here all night…” And keeping his eye on the glow, Arthur watches it streak across the wall and disappear.

But he doesn’t move, waiting to be sure that they don’t backtrack.

After a few seconds go by, he comes out of hiding and goes to the floor. “Kit…!” he whispers.

He sees your hand come out from under the seat and backs up to watch you crawl out of the small space with ease. You take a deep breath, finally able to expand your lungs. “I’m okay,” you answer, already predicting what Arthur was just about to ask you.

He smiles. “Good. Let’s keep goin’.”

You nod. “Let’s find a spot to hide and wait for the others to catch up with us.” 

“Okay,” Arthur says, waving you on.

You turn and lead the way, continuing to crouch as you both walk through the aisle. Reaching the end of the train car, you turn left, walk down the steps, and make your way to the building just up ahead. There are some lights that cast a glow down on the boardwalk, and you lean up against it. “We need a place to hide,” you say then you peek around the corner. As soon as you get a quick look, you immediately duck away, eyes wide.

“What?” Arthur asks.

“There’s Pinkertons everywhere. At least six.”

Arthur curses under his breath and looking back towards the train, he sees the rest of the gang sneaking off and approaching.

He shakes his head at them, holding his forefinger to his lips.

Dutch comes up close, his brow pinched. “What now?”

“Guards,” Arthur answers. “Too many to take out without bein’ noticed.”

Dutch grumbles. “Well, we’ve got to do something.”

It is then that Arthur comes up with an idea. “I can distract them. Sneak off to another spot and get their attention.”

Dutch gestures over to you. “Why not let her do it? Seems that’s what she’s good at,” he says with a bite.

Arthur furrows his brow. “No.” And without letting Dutch say anything more, he turns and sneaks off, heading towards some stacked crates a couple yards away.

Arthur blends into the shadows, his movements quick and determined. He can feel the tension rising and the eyes of the gang on him, as though waiting to see if his plan will work.

He reaches the crates and with a quick breath, lets out a sharp whistle.

“What was that?” he hears an agent say.

The sound of boots scuffing against the wet wood follows as the Pinkertons turn their heads, scanning the dimly lit area for the source of the noise. Arthur’s heart pounds in his chest, and his distraction starts to take effect. The men begin to move away from their posts, inching toward the origin of the sound.

He peeks over the crates, and just as they pass the building where you and the others are hiding, he slips away on the other side, out of their sight. He scurries back over to you, your eyes sparkling with an eagerness that he wishes he could meet with a relieving kiss.

“Good work, son,” Dutch says with a nod. “The docks are this way.” And resuming charge once again, Dutch leads you all along the building, past supply crates and boxes from shipments, keeping low as you reach a worn fence line. 

And just as Dutch reaches the opening of the fence, he places his back against the wood boards and the rest of you hide behind something.

“Look,” Dutch says. “More of ‘em.”

Arthur looks around the barrel he’s hiding behind. Sure enough. Over by stacked lumber, four Pinkertons stand with guns in their hands.

Charles, backed up against the other side of the fence, looks at Dutch. “They’re watching out for us…”

“Probably thinking we are trying to catch a boat,” you say.

Dutch turns back to you, his eyes darkening. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Charles looks back at them again. “Well, they ain’t just waiting there for no reason…!”

This seems to persuade Dutch, for he goes quiet. “Let me think for a second.”

But the stillness is disturbed, as Arthur hears some gravel shifting and turns to see you making your way over to the fence.

Realizing what you are about to do, Arthur grabs you by the arm, his eyes pleading. “Kitka, no!”

You look back at him. “I’m wearing lawmen’s clothes. They won’t see I’m a woman in the dark—”

“I ain’t lettin’ you do it, Kit. It’s too risky,” Arthur's voice is a hoarse whisper, tight with concern and desperation.

You meet his gaze, your hazel eyes steady and resolute. “Arthur, they’ll listen to me. I can tell them I heard a noise, and saw a shadow. It’ll give us a chance to slip past—”

“I’ll deal with them,” Charles says with a low rumble, cutting you off.

“What?” Dutch asks.

And readying himself, Charles begins to move. “You heard what I said…!” And before leaving, he nods to Arthur.

Unsure of how to receive his message, he nods, maybe in thanks, maybe in validation. Either way, Charles has spared you the risk of exposing yourself.

You all watch on as he approaches the men, walking casually by them.

They all turn to look at him. “Hey! You!”

He doesn’t answer, continuing on his way.

“Stop!”

And as they break out in a run, Charles takes off, leading them away from where you all are hidden. They soon blow their whistles, no doubt alerting any more of them in the vicinity.

Dutch, turning to you all, grins from ear to ear. “Well, are we gonna let such a beautiful act go to waste?”

“Hell no!” Micah responds.

Bolstered by the one-man support, Dutch waves you all on. “C’mon! We’re almost there!”

Guilt gnaws at Arthur's conscience as he thinks on the sacrifice that Charles just made. For you. For the gang. He hopes that Charles’ skills of stealth and navigation will help him get out of sight and out of Saint Denis. But in this desolate place, surrounded by danger, the odds seem slim. Arthur can only hold onto hope and pray that somehow, some way, Charles will make it out of this. Make it back to Amberino. To Chief Rains Fall and his people.

Make it out of here. 

***

“Think we got a problem out here…!”

John’s call immediately sends Arthur’s hair on edge and after tossing his saddlebag over to Bill, he draws his pistol and makes his way over to the bank’s front windows. Dutch hides his body against the wall, angling himself so he can glance, or shoot, out of the window if he so chooses.

Arthur then hears a voice he’s heard before. A voice that has always made him bristle immediately.

“Come out!” Milton calls. “It’s over.”

And looking out the window, he sees Agent Milton bring out a familiar face. An old man, hands raised and spectacles reflecting the sun.

It’s Strauss.

Micah curses under his breath. “So much for the boat!”

Milton shouts across the street at them, his gun pointing at Stauss’ back. “Dutch, get out here! Get out here now!”

“Someone must have squealed!” Dutch hisses. “Strauss is a coward!”

“He was by himself, Dutch…!” Arthur argues. “Never should have sent him alone!”

And John expresses his own regrets. “Never should have set foot in Saint Denis, Dutch!”

“Dutch, turn yourself in now! Or your friend here…they’re gonna get shot unnecessarily!” Milton threatens.

“Let him go, Dutch!” Micah hisses. “He’s worthless anyways…”

Dutch pauses, looking out the window. Arthur watches the shift in his expression, from aggression, to sardonic. “My friend? Why would I do that?!”

Arthur’s eyes widen. Would he be so quick, so willing to give up one of his own for his own skin?

“That surprises me, Mr. Van Der Linde! For someone only a month ago who was claiming to be the Messiah of these degenerates!”

And Arthur, feeling anger in his chest, shouts accusations of his own. “You shot one of our own in the back, you bastard! You ain’t above anyone else!”

Even from across the street, he can see the angered confusion in Milton’s eyes. “Mac Callander was a mercy killing, Mr. Morgan! He was shot in the head and he knew it was coming!”

Mac? It’s obvious Arthur was referring to you. Would he be so eager to forget you?

“I’m talkin’ about Kitka Petrova, you cold-hearted snake!” Arthur’s voice roars, echoing down the dusty street, bouncing off the closed doors and shuttered windows of the town, causing a few onlookers to peek from behind the curtains. His hand grips his pistol tighter, knuckles whitening.

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about! There was never a woman!”

This angers Arthur. To threaten a woman and attempt to kill her in cold blood, that is worse than anything he could ever have done. He never killed someone for the sport of it. And shooting you, his wife…

That is the final straw.

And just as he opens his mouth to yell at Milton, he looks to see movement at the corner of his eye.

Dutch has his custom revolver aimed toward Milton.

And fires.

The sharp crack of a gunshot shatters the stillness, ricocheting off the buildings and reverberating through the deserted street. The sudden sound is like a declaration of war, causing everyone to freeze in fear. Milton's hand flies instinctively to his chest, his eyes widening in shock and pain as he stumbles forward, releasing Strauss from his grasp. With a thud, his body hits the ground, a temporary silence falling over the chaos. But it is short-lived as the Pinkertons, who had been waiting outside the bank, open fire in response to their comrade's demise, bullets flying and striking Strauss in the process.

And everything goes to hell.

***

Arthur jolts awake, the back of his head lightly hitting the wooden side of a large crate. He had decided to get out from the cargo hold and get some fresh air, immediately sitting down, facing the sun, and must have fallen asleep. 

You all got on a boat, formally called the Antenor. Found places to hide yourselves until it cast off and was out on the water. Dutch insisted he find the captain, con his way into being allowed as stowaways, and maybe use a gold bar as insurance to get upgraded as passengers. It must have worked, for you and the gang haven’t been thrown off yet. It is just a cargo ship. A smaller one than what Arthur has seen, but it seems to carry coal and other goods to the islands down south.

This isn’t good.

None of this was supposed to happen.

Strauss. Hosea. Lenny. Charles. All people he is sure he will never see again. Dead or otherwise. 

He runs a hand through his hair, its strands cold from the salted air. When he lifts his eyes, he sees you, standing near the edge of the boat, looking out into the water. You have a blanket around your shoulders, your hair undone, wild, and whipping wildly. Your back is turned to him, so he can’t see the expression on your face, to see how you’re feeling. 

Stretching his legs for a minute, he motions to stand up and twist his body at the waist. His back cracks and pops and he emits a soft grunt before walking over to you. 

You don’t turn around, but keep your eyes on the water’s horizon. You must sense him behind you, for you lean back just enough to press into his torso and he can’t help but smile. 

“I know I was on a boat when I traveled with my family to America,” you say softly. “But I can’t remember.”

He lifts his hand to come around to your face, caressing your cheek with his forefinger. “Ain’t the kind of vacation you was hopin’ for, was it, Kitten?”

You turn your head away. “Careful not to call me that around here.”

His smile falls. He let himself get carried away, but there shouldn’t be cause for that much discretion. “No one is out here, darlin’. It’s alright.”

You shake your head. “The way things are?” You readjust the blanket over your shoulders. “I’m not so sure.”

Arthur exhales, letting the air sharply exit out of his nostrils. “I know things ain’t good, Kitte—erm—Kitka. But I’m tryin’ to figure this out.”

He sees the indent in your cheek as you bite the inside of it. “Will we make it out of this? Where are we going? How are we going to make it back? Do you think the others made it out before the Pinkertons—?”

“Hey, now…” Arthur takes you by the shoulders and turns you to face him. “We don’t have all those answers right now.”

“But Dutch says—”

“Kitka.” He squeezes your shoulders and you look up at him. “They’ll make it out,” he says firmly. “I know they will.”

Your face pinches as you study him, doing that thing you do when you try to read people. “How can you be so sure?”

Because of who he sent, but erring on the cautious side, as you suggested, he won’t tell you, yet. “Just trust me.”

Your eyes narrow as your brow keeps a worried expression. “I do trust you…” You blink slowly, your lips parting to say something, but there’s a hesitancy. “But this all seems so familiar…”

“You mean failin’ to leave?”

You toss your head lightly side to side, oscillating between confirmation and question. “No! Yes! I don’t know…” It is then that your eyes close tightly shut and you groan, leaning into Arthur’s chest. “Oh…”

“What is it?” he asks. “Another spell?”

You nod. “I think so.”

If it is, Arthur knows by now that it’s best to get you somewhere quiet, a place where you can lay down and he can watch over you. “C’mon, let’s go below.”

You act like you want to protest, but your eyes remain closed and your hand grips his arm. After a second or two, you nod. 

Taking you gently, he begins to escort you back to the center of the boat, where the entrance to the lower levels is. 

And here, around a pallet of crates, comes Dutch, his eyes searching. When they reach Arthur’s gaze, his eyes sparkle with a newfound energy. “Arthur!”

But your husband isn’t in the mood. “Not now, Dutch. I need to help Kit get below.”

Dutch’s expression shifts, the energy draining into something else, something alluding to disappointment and frustration.

But he quickly grins, his smile not meeting his eyes. “Of course, of course,” he nods and steps aside, allowing Arthur and you to pass, but his eyes linger on you, filled with something that causes Arthur to turn his neck to follow him as you both continue walking.

“He hates me,” you say once you both are out of earshot.

And Arthur doesn’t know how to respond to that.

***

Arthur brings you to where you’ve slept the past two days: a glorified closet with a makeshift cot the captain and his men fashioned for you. Arthur was grateful for your sake, but he now wishes that they didn’t take such an interest in you as soon as they discovered that you were a woman.

Still, you have refused to remove your disguise except for letting your hair out. Arthur has been concerned that it’s all too uncomfortable for you, offering to help remove the bandaging you’ve done, but the way you have responded to his expressed worries suggests that you aren’t ready to give up the disguise just yet. Though, you haven’t shared why.

He helps you into the cot and you keep a hand on his white shirt, gripping it in your hand. As you lay your head down, he kneels before the cot, combing back your hair with his fingers. “I’ll be right here, darlin’.”

You quickly shake your head. “No, Arthur. You need to get back to Dutch and the others. He might be sharing his next move and we need to know so we…” You grimace and grit your teeth, the grinding nearly audible.

“I can’t just leave you here like this, even if it ain’t nothin’ new.”

You open your eyes and look at him intently. “I just need to rest. I’ll be okay. I’m safe.” You let go of his shirt and gently push him back. “Teď jdi…”

Against his better judgment, he rises to his feet and leaves you, returning to the outside of the boat and meets up with the others.

The wind and spray stings his eyes and following the sound of voices, he finds the others, all standing around and talking.

Dutch sees Arthur in the corner of his eye and turns his head to glare at the gunslinger. “Look who decided to join us.”

Arthur ignores the bite in Dutch's voice, stepping closer into the circle of men who murmur amongst themselves like a gathering of crows. There's a tension that tugs at his shoulders, the unresolved silence hanging thick between him and Dutch since the news of your survival stirred the waters of their past.

"We were just discussin’ our plans to slip ashore once we reach Cuba,” Javier graciously explains. Arthur nods his thanks and leans against a large crate, folding his arms.

“Cuba, huh?” Arthur asks Dutch. “What’re we gonna do there?”

Dutch clears his throat, ready to resume the conversation. “Hold up there for a while.”

“Yeah…we figured.”

Dutch narrows his eyes. “Then we will hurry back and gather up the rest of our family. At least we got some money now…” He looks at Bill, Micah, Javier, and then Arthur, whom he holds his gaze. “Money and loyalty. With that, you can do whatever you please.”

Arthur wants to look away, but he doesn’t, instead meeting Dutch's gaze squarely, a silent challenge passing between them. His blue eyes, hard as the steel of his pistol, don’t waver, and there’s a palpable tension that seems to strangle the air around them.

"And when do we plan on leavin' Cuba?" Arthur’s voice, thick with a mix of suspicion and fatigue, cuts through the tension. The question hangs in the air, weighty and unwelcome, but necessary.

Dutch's expression softens for a fleeting moment, perhaps seeing in Arthur’s eyes not just resistance but the shadows of old loyalties. "With the next shipment, or if we can manage to steal a boat for ourselves," he answers. “It shouldn’t be too hard to pass as a crew. We got the manpower.”

“Do you think—do you—?” Bill stammers, adjusting his foot to rest higher on a barrel. “Do you reckon they’ll follow us to Cuba? What’s to say a body of water will stop ‘em?”

Dutch raises his brow. “It’s more than just a body of water, but I highly doubt it. We’ll keep to ourselves. Don’t stir up any trouble. We are merely victims of circumstance. We will stick to a story like always.” He leans back against the side of the boat. “This will be no different.”

The group falls silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Arthur's gaze drifts to the horizon, where he sees dark storm clouds gathering on the edge of the sky. They are a stark contrast to the bright blue above, creating an ominous and foreboding atmosphere. Despite Dutch's attempts to exude positivity and hope, the looming darkness cannot be ignored.

Micah seems to notice, too, as he leans in its direction, narrowing his eyes. “Dutch, I ain’t no sailor, but uh…” he clears his throat. “Do those clouds look like good news to you?”

Dutch turns around and looks on and as he gazes at them, his body tenses, taking a deep inhale through the nose.

“Maybe we should let the captain know?” Javier asks, his voice conveying a hint of concern. “I’ve never known storms and boats to be a good mix.”

Dutch nods his head. “Not a bad idea.” Turning to look at the men, he makes an order. “Let’s all head down below. I will talk to the captain and see how far we are from Cuba. Maybe we are heading away from the clouds.”

And with that, the men split up. Dutch toward the captain’s quarters and the rest to the cargo hold, where each has a place to sleep. That is, except Arthur. He waits a moment or two before going down there, his eyes on the clouds again. He can’t help but wonder what challenges and obstacles lie ahead for the group and what waits for you all.

And the way things have gone, he isn’t optimistic. 

***

Opening the door to the glorified closet, he finds you still resting. The fact that you are still unconscious worries him and with quickened steps, he hurries to your side.

Kneeling beside the cot he looks you over. You’re not pale or grimacing. Maybe you came out of the spell and fell asleep?

Maybe he shouldn’t wake you, let you rest undisturbed.

Feeling the temptation, he rises and bends over you, leaning close to press his lips softly against your forehead.

And, catching him by surprise, you tilt your head up, bumping his nose with yours. He hears you take a deep breath and backs away to see you open your eyes.

“Hi,” you sigh.

“Hi,” he smiles. “Was worried you were still livin’ a memory.”

You shake your head softly, grimacing a little. “It ended a few minutes ago.”

That is still a long time. “You hurtin’ bad?”

You nod your head. For you to admit it, it must have been severe. Arthur's eyes soften, a flicker of distress shadowing his face. He reaches for a nearby blanket, draping it over your shoulders with a tenderness that belies his rugged exterior. "You need anythin’? Some water, maybe?"

With a weak nod, you accept, and as Arthur turns to fetch you some he hears you speak softly behind him. “And a knife.” Confused, he looks over his shoulder back at you. Your expression hasn’t changed. “Trust me,” you say.

He does, so he leaves to bring back what you’ve asked.

***

Navigating his way back, with a tin cup of water and a knife that he stole from the kitchen, he returns to you. He finds you sitting up now, your hair in a loose, singular braid. When your eyes meet, you smile and you hold out your hands to receive the cup he has brought you. Once he places it in your hands, you take a long drink and he can see the relief as you close your eyes and relish every bit of it. Finishing it you sigh satisfied and set the cup down on a box you use as an end table. “Děkuju,” you say.

“Nemáš zač, lásko…” he says almost cheekily and sits down on the cot beside you.

You grin at him and eye the knife as he pulls it from his sleeve, where he had hidden it. “I’m glad I taught you that.”

He snorts. “What, the knife trick? You didn’t teach me that.”

“Oh, I know. I was talking about what you just said.”

He grins and hands the kitchen knife to you. “It weren’t too bad, was it?”

You lean into him for a moment while cradling the knife in your hand, gripping the handle comfortably. “It was really good. You’re getting better.”

Arthur chuckles, the sound deep and warm, resonating in the quiet of the dimly lit room. “I reckon I’ve had a good teacher.”

You look down at the knife in your hands, then up at him, your expression suddenly serious. “Arthur, when we leave, there’s gonna be trouble.”

Sensing the moment is now gone, his smile falls. “I know.” He looks down in his lap. “At least Lenny made it out.”

You lift your eyes and look at him with a raised brow. “What?”

Arthur looks towards the door. Everyone is up on the deck. There’s no way that they’ll hear him if he tells you. He looks back at you. “Lenny didn’t go after Hosea’s body.”

“Where did he go?”

“To get the others. See if anyone will leave with him.”

You blink. “Leave?”

He nods. “We talked about it that night. I think you had an effect on him.”

“That’s good.” You go quiet for a minute, rolling the blade in your hand. “If he had gone after Hosea…he wouldn’t have found a body.”

What? A pit forms in Arthur’s stomach. The explosion must have been catastrophic, to have left no trace of him. “There’s nothin’ left?” he asks sadly. 

You shake your head. “No, Arthur. He isn’t dead.”

“What?”

You look guilty, looking away from him. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t risk it. If Dutch knew…” You pause, as though trying to choose your words carefully. “Hosea would never be able to live. To leave.”

Arthur reaches for you, coaxing you to look back at him with a gentle guide of his hand. “Where is he?”

You exhale slowly. “With John. He was hurt, but I think they both made it to Copperhead Landing.” You look into his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He doesn’t know how to feel. Happy? Relieved? Hosea is alive? And he’s with John? This could be good, very good. If only he and you were with them. “I understand. I know you weren’t just tryin’ to keep it from me.”

A silence falls between you both, your situation settling in again. It seems that good news, though precious it is, doesn’t stay for very long, and fades like light when dark clouds roll in. 

“We need to get off this boat,” Arthur says quietly. “Slip away on our own:”

You nod, your own thoughts reeling in your mind. “I know people will be looking for us.”

Arthur chortles. “That’s normal.”

You shake your head. “I’m serious. Hosea always told me I was good at changing faces. It helped when I needed to get away quickly…” You raise your right hand, gripping your long braid firmly. Arthur watches you as you bring the knife to your hair, just above your hand where it marks your shoulder. “I need a different face.” You take a deep breath and exhale. “I need to become a different person.”

And without another word, you swipe the blade, instantly cutting off your hair, your long braid gone in an instant.

Arthur nearly gasps, leaning forward and holding out his hand toward you. “Kit…!” His voice breaks on your name, a mixture of shock and confusion bleeding through. You let the severed braid fall into your lap, and he vicariously feels the weight of it in a way that's more than physical. It's like cutting ties with a past self, one that was bound by circumstances and memories you are both fleeing from and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

"It will grow back,” you suddenly say, as though you can read his thoughts. “I just need it to be manageable for now.” And lifting your eyes, you grin at him. “It’s still long enough that you can play with it.”

Your hair. Your beautiful hair. It’s now straight across your shoulders, about as long as John’s. “Kit…” is all Arthur can say.

You must see the lamenting in his eyes, for you take his hands gently. “Arthur, I relived another memory. It was about that time we were in Montana, do you remember?”

He remembers. He remembers everything. That’s his trouble. “Yes.”

“I was being harassed by that man you were gambling with. We were working on a score together…”

He hated that time. Even though he didn’t see you in the same light as he does now, it was around the time Abigail had given birth to Jack and you all had met Javier. But that wasn’t why he hated it. He was in a dark place, still grieving Eliza and Isaac. Still under a haze that he couldn’t seem to break from.

You were walking on eggshells around him, but you both ended up on a job together. You were working saloons in the area, changing costumes and pretending to be a wealthy brother and sister, gambling riches away.

Somehow, the last saloon ended up in disaster, with several men nearly beaten to death, and your honor nearly destroyed. If Arthur hadn’t been there, it would have gone a whole different direction.

“You saved me,” you say, after retelling the memory. “Time and time again, you’ve been there for me.” You look down at his hands. “We’ve almost been separated again. And I’m not sure that it won’t happen a fourth time.”

“It won’t.”

You grin painfully. “There you go again, Arthur. There’s that denial of yours.”

He lowers his brow, the lines around his eyes deepening with the weight of resolve and dedication. “I’m serious, Kit,” he insists, gripping your hands tighter as if he could anchor you to him through sheer will. “I ain’t lettin’ you go again. Not for anythin’.”

“Strangers aren’t kind to people like me. Less so towards Romani women. If I look like a different person, maybe the law won’t recognize me. And maybe strangers won’t care to remember.”

Arthur’s gaze turns steely, his jaw clenched with an understanding of the harshness the world doles out, particularly to those it doesn’t understand or accept. “You ain’t gonna have to worry about that, not anywhere we go. You’re my wife and they won’t dare try to do anythin’.”

You shake your head. “Not if we’re apart.” You look down again. “I feel something. Something about this boat. Being here. It’s like…I’ve been here before…”

You said that earlier, before your spell. “You were on the ferry…”

You nod. “Ano …And the Pinkertons…”

The Pinkertons. Just thinking of the word makes his hackles rise. “When we get outta here, we’ll never see ‘em again.”

“Arthur,” you say softly, placing your hand on his arm. “Hosea was trying to tell me something. Something about Dutch and Micah.”

“What?”

“He said they were accusing me of something. And he was trying to convince them otherwise. I remember Micah was saying we were trying to leave when I returned. Maybe…” You begin to pick under your long fingernails. “Maybe they knew we were trying it again.”

He remembers how suspicious it was when Micah found him and John talking. What he might have heard. If Hosea was trying to convince them that you both weren’t trying to leave, did he fail? Is that why he suggested they help with the robbery after all? 

Or maybe that was his effort to persuade them of your loyalty? 

Then he thinks about the robbery itself. What Milton had said. The confusion he felt. How it all went to hell, despite all the effort. How did Milton know? 

Milton, that bastard. He thinks about how you had been shot in the back. What you had learned from Trelawny.

“Kit,” he says while licking his chapped lips. “Did Trelawny ever say exactly what type of revolver it was? The one that shot you?”

You sigh. “Arthur, I thought we weren’t going to talk about it anymore.”

But it’s been nagging at him. Something about it seems really important, something that they’ve been missing. “I know darlin’, but please,” he begs, kissing you softly on the lips. “Tell me.”

Your shoulders droop. “Well…” You brow pinches as you think about it, then you suddenly close your eyes and begin to rub your temple. “I…can’t remember. It was so clear to me but now…”

He grips your hands and at his sudden gesture, you gasp, looking up at him. “Did this spell do that to you?” he asks you. 

“I don’t know, that’s never happened before…” Your eyes open and you look up at him. “Trelawny did tell me. I think it was called a Scho—”

BOOM!!

There is a loud sound, shaking the boat, and you and Arthur are suddenly thrown out of the cot as the boat appears to tip. Arthur’s ears ring, and his vision blurs as the world tilts around you. You land hard into him as his back goes against the adjacent wall, and he tries to hold you tight to himself.

“What was that?” you ask, your voice raised.

Arthur thinks about the clouds he has seen. And now his mind is filled with questions. Questions he wants answered. But your safety comes first. 

“A sign we oughta get outta here…!” And as gentle as he can be, he pushes you up and helps you to your feet. You are clearly still weak from your spell, your legs wobbling beneath you.

He hears shouts down the hall and he now knows that something isn’t right. You both need to get to the deck. If the boat is at risk, he will need to get a lifeboat.

Arthur’s instincts kick in, the same ones that have kept him alive through countless scrapes, and he grabs your arm firmly, his touch reassuring through the chaos of the shuddering boat. “Stay close to me, Kitka,” he says with urgency, his voice a solid anchor amid the cacophony of shouts and groans from the ship.

You move in step with him as he helps you out of the closet and you both make your way down the hall and into the cargo hold.

As you are both about to reach the other side of the room, he hears something snap. Looking up, he sees the ropes that bind heavy crates begin to give way. In an instant, Arthur’s protective instincts surge. He pushes you forward, out of harm's way, and moves backward himself as crates crash down where you both had stood mere seconds before.

There are a few spots of light in the gaps from the fallen crates and he hears your heavy panting. “Arthur!” you cry.

“I’m fine, Darlin’!”

He hears you grunt. “I’ll get you out!”

“No!” he roars. The last thing you should be doing is straining yourself. “I’ll find another way out. You go! Get to a boat! Find Javier!”

“I won’t—!”

“Kitka Morgan, do what I say!” His command echoes through the tumult, heavy with an authority that brooks no argument. He can picture you hesitating, a pinched look on your face. “Get to a lifeboat!”

You whimper. “You better get out of there!”

“I will, Kit. Now, go!”

Reluctantly, you turn away and he hears the padding of your feet disappear. And so, he turns around to gather his bearings. The boat continues to groan and shift, causing him to focus on his footing. He remembers a ladder of some kind, that leads to a pulley system that helps lower heavier objects down into the cargo hold. If he can find the ladder, he can climb his way out and onto the deck.

The ship gives another violent shudder, sending Arthur stumbling before he regains his balance. He swipes a hand across his brow, wiping away the sweat mixed with grime, his mind racing as much as his heart. He knows that every second counts if he is to reunite with you and ensure your safety.

Navigating in the dark, his hands extended, he finally feels something cold and cylindrical. Both hands find the rung of a ladder and relief sweeping over him, he begins his ascent. 

The metal of the ladder is slick with seawater, and Arthur grips it tight, his knuckles whitening under the strain. Each rung creaks under his weight, a precarious symphony that accompanies his urgent climb. Above him, the intermittent sound of shouting and the chaotic din of the crew struggling to either save the ship or survive.

Reaching the top, he pulls himself onto the deck, and doesn’t pause to catch his breath. He needs to find a lifeboat. He needs to find you.

“Kit!” he shouts. But of course, with the raging storm, the flames on the ship, the shouts, and crashing waves, he can’t hear a response. He quickens his steps to reach the edge of the boat, and nearly falls over the edge when the ship rocks furiously to the left.

Holding himself against the edge of the ship, he looks out into the water and sees a white lifeboat, not too far away, but he can’t see all the figures with the shadows of the night. 

There’s a flash of lightning and a man in the boat spots him, pointing at him. “It’s Arthur…!”

Javier. He told you to find Javier.

You all are on the boat!

“Arthur, come on!!!” Dutch’s voice calls out.

Well, if Arthur wasn’t going to abandon ship, he doesn’t have a choice now. With renewed energy, Arthur leaps over the edge, a split second of rushing wind before he hits the cold water below.

The heavy grip of the ocean seizes him immediately, aching his bones and cleaving through his breath. Yet, survival instinct, honed through years of gunfights and narrow escapes, propels Arthur forward with fierce determination. His limbs paddle vigorously against the tumultuous waves, each stroke a battle against the pull of the deep water. He tries to see over the waves and thankfully, in the glow of the flames consuming the ship, he sees the white lifeboat. If only he could keep paddling.

Dutch spots him, leaning over the edge of the boat, his arm extended. “Swim, son! Come on!”

Arthur summons every ounce of strength he has left, his muscles burning with the effort as he battles against the relentless sea. Each wave that crashes over him feels like a weight trying to drag him back, but the thought of reaching you, of ensuring you're safe, gives him the resolve to push onward.

His eyes are stinging from the salt water, but he won’t stop. He won’t quit.

But just as he feels his arms ache and legs tire, he reaches the boat, and several hands grab hold of him and pull him up. He coughs heavily, finally letting himself breathe for a second.

“You made it, hombre…” Javier says as he pats his back. “But I don’t—”

Arthur nods and lifts his eyes. “Thank you for helpin’ Kit—”

But he can’t finish his sentence.

You aren’t here.

He looks around, his eyes scanning the water. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” Javier answers. “I thought—”

“None of you seen her?!” Arthur shouts and he sees them shake their heads.

Dear God, you’re still on the boat. And as he turns to look back, he sees it sinking.

He’s got to go back!

He grabs the edge of the lifeboat and is about to leap back into the water, but hands grab him. He feels their pull and wrestles with all his strength to get free. “Let me go!”

“Arthur, if she ain’t here, then she’s gone!” Dutch’s voice is harsh, a cold slap of reality against Arthur’s fervor. “We need you here with us, not dyin’ on a sinking ship!”

But Arthur shakes his head, his jaw set in grim determination. “No! I ain't leavin’ without Kit!” His eyes burn with a mixture of pain and resolve, his heart pounding as though it might burst through his chest. “I’m dead if she dies! You ain’t keepin’ me here!”

“You’re a damned fool!” Dutch shouts, his grip unrelenting. “You’d throw your life away for some woman?”

Some woman? The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to believe it can’t be true. It just can’t. 

All these opportunities. The comments, the two-sided smiles. It was all a lie. Dutch never cared about you. You were expendable from the very beginning. And with what Hosea had tried to tell you…maybe they’ve known. Maybe they knew this whole time…

He looks slowly up at Micah and sees something in his emotionless profile. Something he can’t quite pick out as the rat turns away quickly. Then Arthur looks back at Dutch. He doesn’t turn away. Brazen and boldly staring back at him. 

Arthur feels a rage well up inside him as he looks at Dutch and motions to attack with closed fists. “She ain’t just a woman, she’s family, you sonofa–”

“You keep your mouth shut!!” And with one swing, Bill punches Arthur square in the face.

And everything goes black.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any and all feedback. :)

Tag Requests: @photo1030, @eternalsams

[inkher0]

How does Ticcimask work in your story? I don't know if you've talked about it before, or if you're tired of this question, I just wanted to ask due to how there are so many conflicting depictions of the ship.

Depends on what you mean? If you're referring to their ages, Origin is about Tim as a teenager. It'd be weird if it was Marble Hornets, Red Flannel Tim dating 15 year old Toby (STARES LOUDLY), but this is a prequel to MH, and they're roughly the same age. The love-hate dynamic that people associate with Ticcimask works better when they're the same age, imho, and that's always been how I've seen the ship. They're rivals to each other, rather than an adult bullying a child because he's Kind Of Annoying (and mentally disabled, which. Yikes).

In Origin, they're both obsessed with each other, but for completely different reasons, and those reasons change over the narrative as their ideologies shift.

In Tim's eyes, Toby is this captivating, all consuming flame. Toby doesn't languish over what's right and wrong, what makes him a "good boy" or a "bad boy"- he does as he pleases, and demands everyone witness it. He spits in The Operator's face and openly questions the nature of their rearing and their orders, even though that hurts his standing. Though that usually pisses him off, he can't help but find it a bit admirable. Toby is very compelling to Tim, in all aspects, and he can't help but want him around even though he finds him so antagonistic. Toby understands Tim's anger at the world, and- most importantly- he validates it through his actions and reactions. At the same time, though, he challenges Tim intellectually, which very few people do. Kate tells him "don't do bad things", but Toby asks him "why?"

When it comes to how Toby sees Tim... I fear saying too much. I kind of want it to be something you interpret yourself. But I'll say that for however intense Tim views Toby, Toby views Tim three times as intensely. Like, don't ever read Toby's mind when he's thinking about Tim, you will feel compelled to Call Someone (therapist, doctor, a priest, or all three). It's very hard to describe how Toby sees Tim without using some very heavy-handed biblical imagery, because from the start, Toby has seen Tim through the lens of believing The Operator is God. You can infer from there how he might see Tim- sometimes as a messiah, sometimes as Satan, and sometimes as both simultaneously. He wants to be close to that light, but he knows in his gut that there's something deeply Wrong about it.

Despite how they are obviously Aware of each other's dangerous faults and how badly things could go, they still choose to rely on each other. Simply because that, despite everything I said above, they get along horrifically well. When they agree on something, that thing is done with brutal efficiency. They are The Operator's Boys, and they're both his Best of The Best. They complete each other in the worst possible way- they're dangerous for each other, but deadly for everyone else. If things go according to The Operator's plan, they will be exactly as Toby fantasizes: Literal Kings, sitting atop a throne of bodies and ruling the humans on Earth like apex predators.

The thing is... is that really what they want? And are they willing to do what it takes to achieve that?

[ljandersen]

I keep thinking about Paragon Universe Kaidan in your Sideways fic being literally fucking arrested and hearing his wife- his not-wife- confess to being an impostor when that is one of his old Top 10 Worse Fears, as in Someone is Wearing Shepard's Face, this fear generated in ME2 and resolved in ME3, and this fear catching up to him right then, when he's immobilized, and he had no time to interrogate whoever the fuck this is and ask WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY WIFE, and WHERE IS SHE, and HOW DID THEY MAKE SUCH A GOOD COPY, and with no ground to denounce THIS IS NOT SHEPARD, THIS IS NOT MY WIFE without sounding like a jealousy broken lunatic, and then probably being escorted to his cell, thinking, "I should have known, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN, I SAW ALL THE SIGNS" I am going insane I am crawling on the floor

I love that take! I don't know if it consciously occurred to me while writing it, but you're absolutely right! That would be one of Kaidan's Top Ten Worst Fears. In ME2, he has all the reason in the world to believe Shepard isn't really herself. She's not acting like herself, working for a terrorist organization that tortures Alliance soldiers. Especially with the Akuze background, like my Shepard, it doesn't make any sense that she'd be working with them. So, it fits that Kaidan wouldn't believe it. Add on top of that the known risk of indoctrination and cloning, it's a valid fear! He does get past it in ME3, like you say, when he recognizes it truly is Shepard, but wow, what a journey to get there!

Then, here I go throwing him back into thick of it. She's acting out of character in some ways, but it's still her in others. He doubted her before, and it didn't go well with him. He has to give her the benefit of a doubt. Plus, why even consider anything else? We're past the indoctrination and cloning risk of Cerberus. It really would be a horrible situation for him particular, given his history. I think you're exactly right, too, that he'd be left there stunned. Usually there's a time limit for speaking while in jail. It certainly wouldn't be enough opportunity to answer the flood of questions he'd have! Thank you for sharing your thoughts! I loved hearing your perspective on the situation, especially from Kaidan's point of view in particular. That's very insightful!

[pseudowho]

so there’s this guy. or there was this guy. i used to have a crush on him for the longest time but i thought my friend liked him and that he liked her so i repressed my feelings which was fine. but he asked me friend out and she turned him down and apparently she’d never liked him and she was really confused because she thought he liked ME. really weird situation but this is a long winded way of saying that a few months later me and the guy got really close and i asked him out. yay!! and then and then we dated for like around 6 months maybe and then we broke up. or more like i broke up with him. i said i’d lost feelings but honestly now tjay i think about it im not sure. did i lose feelings?? i don’t know. it was also getting serious and i think that scared me a little bit. so maybe i didn’t lose feelings i was just scared of commitment? this was all like 3 years ago. i still think about him. i haven’t been in like a serious relationship since. and i’m thinking about him A LOT more lately. some of my friends think i should text him because they think we were great together and i just screwed it up. but i don’t know. i miss him sometimes. i think? i’m never sure how i feel about him except that i think about him. sometimes i’m scared that no one’s ever going to love me as much again. he loved me a lot. i think it used to scare me how much he loved me. sometimes i feel like no one else will ever love me and he was my only chance and i lost it. i feel like no one ever really likes me anyway, like i’m no one’s type. no one would see me and be like omg she’s cute or hot or have a little crush on me or whatever. but at the same time i don’t want to reach out to him just because im insecure and lonely lol. i think that’s unfair to both of us. but also maybe i am insecure and lonely but that doesn’t mean i don’t like him or miss him? i don’t know.

Stop thinking that you're unlikeable, or undesirable, or not anyone's type, for starters. I hands down guarantee that you're wrong, there is a societal hyperfixation currently on 'being attractive' and I am yet to find much of the rhetoric surrounding it to be in any way pertinent to how attraction works in real life.

Listen, I relate very hard to this particular one, because when I was 15/16, I broke up with @mrhaitch because he was so serious and I was afraid of how much he loved me.

I think you were right in listening to yourself; if it felt overwhelming, that's completely valid. A serious relationship can be a heavy weight to carry at any age, and although I don't know how old you are, you sound fairly young, and it might not have been the right time for you then.a

That doesn't mean it's not the right time now. Ultimately if you wanted to give things another shot, if he's single and you think you'd otherwise be on good terms, there's no harm in reaching out. The worst thing he can say is 'no thanks', frankly.

And I also thought I was nobody else's type. Very very sincerely. I still think that way about myself. Other people do not perceive you, as you perceived yourself. I assure you that of the couples I look after, the amount of them who express surprise over even being in a relationship with someone who is into them is high.

I agree that loneliness and "he's the only guy who ever liked me" aren't good reasons alone to pursue him. But if you really liked this guy, and think you still might, then you don't know until you try.

Do not be paralysed by the fear of failure or rejection. You will stagnate. Rejection does not confirm your fear that you are unlovable; if confirms that you haven't found the right one to love, but you won't be left with the lingering 'what if?'

Alright?

Love, as always,

-- Haitch xxx