#And it's not by design it's just that someone has to man the camp and tend to the soldiers

[backpackingspace]

Hey do we think some of eurylochus's bitterness/distrust started when odysseus started hanging out more with diomedes than with him and polites?

[ofallthingsnasty]

Sorry if requests are closed rn b if what do you think about yandere Arthur Morgan with a basement wife? I mean he’s tried different approaches with Mary and Eliza and failed so surely third time’s the charm right??

Requests are more than open 🥳 I 've just been a little MIA lately, because of my BG3 stint 🫣 and I'm sorry this took so long, I put yourask in my drafts and forgot about it 😭

tw. 'yandere', super low self-esteem arthur, minors dni, f!reader

The thing about Arthur is - and you're totally right with the 'whelp, this didn't work, let's try something different' thing - he's just not someone I can see with a basement wife. I can totally see him getting unhealthily attached to a poor soul - but. That man will never leave the gang. I was rooting so hard for him and Mary when they had one last date in Saint Denis, I actually wanted him to drop them all and be selfish and just run away with her... Alas, Arthur is Arthur and even with low honor, those people are his family. Why does that make me think that Arthur Morgan is not a basement wife guy? Because he's here today and he’ll be somewhere else entirely tomorrow. He couldn't even set up a snug little home for you, the risk of him having to flee somewhere with Dutch and the others is simply too great. What if he can't get to you, can't take you with him? What if something happens to you, if someone stumbles upon his carefully crafted, hidden abode and discovers you? The same that happened to Eliza and Isaac will happen to you, too, and by god, he can't stand that thought. By design, the life he leads makes that impossible.

So what does a lovesick old bastard like him do instead? Well, I think he’s a grade A meddler. That man has zero self-esteem - I think that when he falls for you, it’ll be a whole lot of ‘I’m just not good enough for her’s and ‘how could she ever want a big lunk me’s at first, all the while he finds himself constantly checking up on you, unbeknownst to you or not. Whether or not he has it in himself to accept all of those big feelings, he’ll make damn sure you’re safe and sound, at whichever point you are in life. And you know, as long as you are single - unwed, widowed, divorced, abandoned, whatever as long as there is no man in your life - I can see that going on for all eternity. Him just looking out for you, helping you out, trying to ignore the way your hand feels over his arm whenever you express your gratitude. Really, he can keep on existing like this, because no matter how much Arthur Morgan loves you… he’s way too broken to act on it, in my humble opinion. Even if you were to make a move, you’d have to join the gang - and that is dangerous living. We’re talking about an obsessed, lovesick Arthur Morgan here - who, despite it all, would still be fairly realistic. No matter how grand those feelings of his are, your safety and happiness are his number one priority. And those are very much not guaranteed in his line of work. A truly yandere Arthur is going to be your greatest protector, your most generous benefactor - but he’ll be a distant, nebulous figure. Now, if there is a man in your life - that can change pretty quickly. Because then, there is that pesky sting of jealousy he’ll have to live with, day after day. One that might seem to be bearable if your husband is a good man, but one that will slowly whittle away at him still, little by little. Then, I can actually see him snapping, can see him giving into those selfish feelings, even if he still thinks he doesn’t deserve you. But guess what? That son of a bitch doesn’t, either. He’ll get drunk one night, thinking too hard about the way another man’s ring is sitting pretty on your finger and-

Do something very, very rash and stupid. Something that will have him camping out in the wilderness for a few days, with you by his side. 

(Not to mention if your husband is in any way bad to you… Oh boy, he’ll rue the day ever doing wrong by you, if he even can after Arthur is done with him.)

[thr0wnawayy]

A few weeks ago someone in my inbox asked me what I thought of AFO and of I ever thought he was a proper villain.

My answer is simple: he was.

At first AFO was a mentor. where All Might struggled to teach, AFO excelled.

Always finding a way to turn every play into a learning opportunity.

He allows for the USJ to heppen so he can Tomura "show" that collaboration is important, he uses Stain's rejection to teach Tomura that he has to use tact. He uses the Training Camp to prove that there is strength in numbers

AFO always thinks ahead, he learns from his mistakes and that makes him deadlier than the HPSC could ever hope to be.

The Nomu are a great example of this, the USJ Nomu was a great start, although I suspect it was designed to fail. It served as an excellent display of what a Nomu could be.

The Hosu Nomu failed because of a lack of armour and variety, so AFO made the Forest Nomu better.

The Forest Camp Nomu is seen wearing a helmet and has multiple quirks to account for it's blindspots.

The Forest Nomu failed due to a lack of awareness and intelligence, so Hood was designed specifically for his intelligence and his strength as to not be caught of guard.

(I suspect AFO left some notes for the doctor)

The Nomu came back stronger each time, the data collected was building up towards an optimized specimen( which we were supposed to see with the Finalized High Ends)

Each and every time AFO let Shigaraki use the Nomu, he was killing two birds with one stone.

Additionally, he supports Tomura while not smothering gum

Letting Tomura learn from his own experience (be it successes or failures) and forcing Tomura to learn restraint.

He prevents him from lashing out at any one individual (like he did w Kurogiri) by forcing him to actually work with his teammates.

AFO makes Tomura reflect on why he failed, he encourages Tomura's ventures constantly and gives him advice.

These are hallmarks of someone who wants to see their student succeed.

If that's not enough then there are two lines that solidify AFO'S original character:

The line that really settles me however, is this:

"Just When Tomura had begun to think for himself "

If Shigaraki really were just a puppet from the start, why would AFO go to all the trouble of guiding for him, teaching and training him. Letting him build a legacy of his own and support him.

Why would he hire Giran, after all it will all be for naught, so why waste resources?.

The simple answer is to blame Hori and inability to stay consistent in anything. (In the business we call this, having no fucking spine)

His Character

AFO's terror lay in his simplicity. Like AM, AFO is a man with a goal and he has the means to achive it, something he had worked for decades to achieve.

This is best demonstrated in his early mannerisms.

AFO never lies, he uses metaphors and technicalities to his advantage.

In the prison scene, he never lies about his goal, which was simple. Take out All Might with as a symbol and threat, while also getting Tomura to leave the nest.

He is also a show man, holding out on Tomura's history and turning his retirement into a spectacle to land a critical flow on his nemesis.

He's a master strategist, being able to predict the current state of society within his cell. He took everything AM loved, even going as far as to turn Tenko's tragedy into a triumph and spat on hero society in the process.

In short, AFO was the villain and when All Might walked out those doors, AFO was as good as dead.

The Downfall

Later, everything I mentioned was stripped and what we are left with is a gutted out husk, a shambling mockery of the genius we once knew.

After season 3, AFO might as well be dead because the leech that takes his place was probably the final nail in MHA's rapidly flooding coffin.

AFO goes from being a legitimate threat, a true symbol of evil. Someone so fearsome, that his mere presence causes visions of one's own death.

To a LARPer who's got as much depth as a kiddie pool, evil for the sake of evil.

From Symbol of Evil to (ugh) 'Demon Lord'.

This character is so far removed that I've taken to calling it 'The Husk'. As to me, AFO is canonically dead*.

This emptiness is even displayed in his musical themes

Where 'The Power of AFO' only needs a few simple instruments and hooks to instill dread, 'All For One Prime' falls flat.

The Power of AFO is dread inducing and it knows it. The song itself feels alive, like an unfathomable evil making it's presence known.

It reflects it's "master" with ease. It is dark, sophisticated and unlike any other piece heard in the series, it is quiet.

True power doesnt need to say it is powerful, it shows it through it's actions. Real power stays in the shadows

Meanwhile AFO Prime is lacking.

It's grandeous and "lighter" but that's it, beyond that it is hollow. Ironically representing what Hori did to MHA.

The theme is nice but ultimately uninspired, causing it to ring hallow when coupled with a failing plot that is speeding towards it's quiet demise.

Few more thing's before I check out.

Why the fuck did they change AFO's eyes.

It completely ruined the parallels between AFO, Tomura and Eri, while also the unspoken lore of:

Quirks that deviate from both their parents often share the group traits of (red eyes, white hair).

You know what fuck it, Red Eyed AFO is Canon, Hori can suck it.

Secondly I have a theory for why AFO had such a stark shift in personality (outside of Hori's bullshit)

From My Notes:

When AFO was defeated and saved by the Doctor, he remained in a coma for 2 years, regenerating the missing tissue and brain matter.

This stopped the brain damage and deterioration from getting worse (sort of putting it in stasis), however upon being defeated by AM again at Kamino, the brain damage was aggravated and began to slowly break down his metal state, causing him to become increasingly delirious overtime.

Due to Tartarus' less then ethical treatment and safety protocols, as well as the brainwave scanner not being designed to detect which issues. The issue went untreated, by the time Shigaraki broke into Tartarus, AFO was long lost to mania. So much so he failed to remember his own background and the orgins of those around him.

(Hence the change from Symbol (Pre Kamino, Menacing, Intelligent) of Evil to Demon Lord,)

[explaining why he didn't take Overhaul and why he changed from passing the torch to parasite in "canon" and why he was so out of character (idiotic)] Also explaing the lore inconsistencies throught the later chapters.

Just some food for thought.

[inmoonsblood]

thin blankets (nepenthe ii)

pre tlt-tlo. luke castellan x child of a nemesis!reader. 1.6k words.

synopsis: children of the minor gods go through hell at camp. how long can one take until they break?

warnings: mentions of luke and reader making out and eventually doing other stuff, reader is said to be the eldest out of their siblings, kind of toxic situationship between luke and reader. major book easter eggs. not much of luke x reader, more of just the reader

note: technically, this is a continuation of nepenthe, which was set up to be a prologue. will i continue it? mostly, once i'm done with my prompt event postings and if i get enough time to do so! hope y'all like it :)

You stare at the blankets in cabin 11 with a clear disdain. New campers were added, more were claimed by Hermes—y’know, the original parent of the cabin—and as a consequence of that, all the unclaimed and the children of the minor gods got new blankets. But it seems like Mr. D cut out the budget because these new blankets don’t even feel like blankets, they’re just paper. 

You turn to your sister as she looks back at you in defeat. Why would you be surprised? This is how we’re treated. Get used to it. It feels like a slap on your face, your younger sister asking you to leave something that affects them. You won’t. How can you? Nemesis didn’t mother you for nothing, revenge nor justice lies dormant if it must achieve something, if someone yearns to honour it, and sometimes these yearnings scare you, because with the observations you’ve made? Maybe you could burn your home down to ashes if you truly wanted to, maybe that’s what this camp deserves and gods, only then will the half bloods live equal. Olympus is the problem—

You gasp. That did not sound like your fucking voice in your head. Looking around, a few kids are staring at you while others ignore you as usual and you think, maybe it was someone else. With the chaos? It could be. Taking a deep breath you walk away from cabin eleven, away from everyone there, away from camp and right into the woods (technically barred, but really, who’s going to look for the daughter of Nemesis? Even if you die, Ethan’s there to take your place as the eldest child—not that it really matters anyway, all the children of the minor gods fall under the jurisdiction of the Hermes cabin, so Luke Castellan is counted as your counsellor.

Speaking of Luke, your feet stop by a tree with a dagger embedded halfway into it as a consequence of your first spar with him. The expression on your face remains blank as you trace over the design, the dagger is a simple one taken from the inventory of camp and yet it’s been almost six months since it was put there. Now it’s a mere marker, nothing more, of where you and Luke meet during the night time to try to forget camp and the imbalance of it all.

It’s like you’ve ended up in a maze of unfortunate coincidences as a pair of arms lock around your waist and pull you closer to the body of your offender. Just as you’re about to grab the dagger and force it out of the tree for any semblance of a defence (because in the middle of everything you forgot your current weapon), a pair of lips kiss behind your ear before whispering there, “Caught you.” 

Immediately your body relaxes as you realise it’s just Luke. Well, you don’t know about Mr. D but that motherfucker is definitely going to hear it from you about all of this today. 

You shove him away from you and glare at him. “Castellan.”

“Spitfire.”

His smirk is as infuriating as it is attractive and gods, you want to kiss it off his face right now, but unfortunately it looks like the smirk exists because he managed to creep up on you and if you kiss him now it will definitely be followed by taunts and extra training for the next week or so because, “I’m serious. What if it wasn’t me? What if it was a monster?” So instead the next best alternative is to pick a fight with the man that has all the power to make your life a living hell.

“Don’t give me that, what’s up with the new blankets?”

The look Luke gives you is akin to one of confusion and that just fuels your rage. You laugh, stumbling back to sit at the roots of your tree. “In your own cabin, and yet you don’t know? They replaced our blankets—ours being the children of the minor gods—with the most wafer-y blankets to ever exist and took the ones with any semblance of thickness to your new siblings,” promptly you ignore the way Luke’s jaw clenches at the mention of siblings, “and the unclaimed.” Because what if they’re the children of Olympians? 

Luke’s silence worries you for a brief second but then he reaches out and tucks in a strand of your hair behind your ear before pulling you in for a kiss. He’s never nice about it, a reminder that you’re not his in any way—not a girlfriend, not someone he wants—but regardless, he likes you right now and you might as well milk it. The kiss brings the promise of your siblings getting the old blankets back somehow even though that’s not what you want, it’s what always comes with his kisses after an argument like this, where you tell him of something unjust that happened. Luke gets you the fairness in a way that increases the imbalance but he doesn’t care: he’ll treat you like a prize until his attraction fades, you don’t even want to consider the after.

When he pulls away, he cups your face and there’s something dark in the corner of his eyes. Something is off with Luke. This isn’t the normal trade off the two of you have, and briefly, within you, the bells of revenge echo. He would stand with you, something tells you, if you were to take revenge from camp. Fulfil your role and make your mother proud. Exact vengeance. 

The voice sounds similar to the one that had invaded your mind at the cabin, but this time it talks to your heart and almost every bone of your body agrees. And yet it feels wrong to take revenge on your home. After all, retribution and balance can only be achieved in its own time, and logically you have no power to bend the scales in your favour. 

The whole world goes silent in the next second, though, as Luke pushes you up against the tree and nips at your neck. This time, your camp shirt comes off with his, and all of a sudden power imbalances don’t matter for a brief second. The world quiets down until no one else but you and Luke exist, the cold of the forest is forgotten when his body touches yours, and for a moment, you would deal with the paper blankets if it meant Luke stayed with you, stayed this close to you.

✸.

Later that night, you find your blanket replaced with the previous one. Not just yours, but Ethan and your other siblings share the same news, but it’s only the children of Nemesis who get this. Something switches in Ethan too, but you cannot focus on that, instead you stagger out of the cabin again, finding Luke in the training area.

“Luke.”

“Come on, Spitfire. Is nothing I do enough for you?” He tells you when he sees the blanket in your hands. 

“This—this isn’t what I meant. Balance—”

“I can’t save everyone when I’m here, you know. The children of the minor gods will always keep getting blindsided.”

You bite your tongue. Luke could, very well, change some of that within camp limits if he wished to. Something as simple as more inclusion during training sessions, or even acknowledgement to the elder children’s experience would work. It wouldn’t undo it completely, but it would help. Despite this, you know Luke won’t, simply because it isn’t serving him any personal gain. The treatment for your siblings is less out of the goodness in his heart and more about the love you hold for them and his knowledge that as long as he’s good to them, you’ll keep coming back.

“Fine.” You take a step back when he approaches you. You don’t want a repeat of this morning right now. “But I’m giving my blanket to Lou-Ellen right now, she’s got a cold and it isn’t going away.” The truth is, you’re not even sure if the Apollo cabin honestly tried for this, the importance given to anyone who isn’t a child of an Olympian is negligible. You don’t think it’s intentional, but it doesn’t stop it from happening, and right now your only hope is Luke. 

Luke, who isn’t happy with your move. He grunts before going back to training, muttering under his breath, “you’ll see what I mean soon enough.”

With shaky hands, you go back to cabin 11 and give your blanket to Lou-Ellen, taking her paper blanket with you. She smiles and promises you of a favour she will do in return and you nod, walking out of the cabin again.

The special treatment of the Nemesis children will not go unnoticed much longer, and you have just sped up that process. 

Gripping the paper blanket, you walk to the makeshift altar your siblings and yourself made for your mother. Nemesis isn’t the nicest mother, nor is she the most empathetic, but one thing is clear she always pays her debts. Good or bad. You throw the blanket on it and make a promise.

The children of the minor gods need to unite if they have any chance at surviving at Camp Half Blood, and despite what Luke tells you, you will try your level best to give them a fighting chance. 

That night, you fall asleep without your blanket, but the next morning you wake up warm regardless. A blanket with the initials ‘L.C’ rests upon you, and unknowingly you snuggle into it, still half asleep. 

Luke gives you a small smile, muttering to himself how cute you are.

[watchoutpaul-hemightkickyourhead]

I like to think that the inside of the dionysus cabin in camp half-blood has infinite nooks and crannies designed to make any non-dionysus kid go mad (since dionysus is the god of insanity) and the dionysus kids have had to mark all of the nooks with big signs saying shit like "NO NON-DIONYSUS KID GO IN OR YOU WILL GET LOST AND START SEEING THE BREAD MAN" because someone's partner keeps coming over.

also one of the little nooks just leads to a massive theatre that has no way of existing on the outside (tardis style) and that one's absoloutley safe for no reason at all.

[abood2000gaza]

to whom it may concern,

To who can hear my voice in the midst of this noise,

My name is Abood, a young man from Gaza. I am 24 years old, but I feel that the years I have lived are twice as many. I do not write to complain, as complaining here has become a luxury we do not have. I write because I want to tell my story, one story among thousands of stories being blown away by the wind in this place that has become featureless.

I studied three majors; Electronics engineering, secretarial, and design. I had many dreams, just like any young man my age. I wanted to make something for myself, for my family, for my city. But successive wars did not leave me a chance. Every time I started something new, the war would come and steal from me what I had built.

I was displaced three times. I used to live in Tal al-Hawa, then the war forced us to move to Rafah, and from there to Khan Yunis. Now, I am in a tent in a displacement camp, with my sick mother and my little brother who still does not know the meaning of all this devastation. We lost everything. Our home, our memories, even the safety that we clung to despite everything.

My father died ten years ago due to illness. I couldn't help him. I couldn't even get him the treatment he needed. Today, I find myself unable to provide a living for my mother and brother. In this harsh winter, we fight the cold with little firewood and thin blankets. At night, I frequently wake up to the sound of winds threatening to uproot our tent. I sit and watch my sleeping mother and brother, wondering: How do I protect them?

I worked as a volunteer for a while distributing aid and food to displaced people.

I'm not asking for much. I don't dream of a palace, a car, or a luxurious life. All I want is to see my mother smile, and hear my little brother laugh. I want to provide them with food and shelter. I want to go back to school, to work, to life.

This message may not reach me. You may arrive and find no one to hear it. But I write it because hope is the only thing I have left. And maybe, somewhere, there is someone who can help us survive.

With respect,

Abood from Gaza.

[smartie-chan]

Long rambling incoming in 3,2,1...

I know that I'm not really any kind of big celebrity in the Stobotnik world. The only thing I've got going for myself is the fact that I've been there since the very beginning, with my one 'I'm so proud of this community' Meme getting a like or two every full moon or so. It's also been a hot second since I've written a Stobotnik Fic, and yet, I've never really left the fandom. Far from it.

So boooooy, when that trailer dropped, let's just say, I've been going wild! That being said, I have calmed down a tiny bit and woud like to share my two cents with you all.

Especially since, considering how gay the trailer was, I've noticed people kind of leaning into either of two camps.

Team 1: They might actually make it canon y'all. This is not a drill!!!!

or

Team 2: This is the most intense queerbaiting I've ever seen, but fuck it, take my money!

Now, I will tell you where I'm standing at the end of things, but let's talk facts before I do, shall we?

I know Jim & Lee were having fun on set during Movie 1, but I doubt either of them expected us all to get quite this feral over these two evil man. In fact, I'm not sure what their plans were for Agent Stone in general. I'd love to believe that they saw us freaking the fuck out and decided to make Stone a big part of the sequels because of that. But then I look at the Robotnik Mushroom Planet scene and think: They gave this man an actual stone to hold onto, going so far as to carve Stone's face into said stone, just so he could pretend he wasn't alone and Stone was still with him. Clearly, Robotinik was never willing to admit that he cared, admit that there could be someone who he had allowed to get close, given that there had never been anyone before who had cared enough about HIM, so why should HE make the mistake of caring about someone else either. Cause, you know, it's easier to pretend there's noone than admit that there could be, just to realise that you were wrong actually. And yet. Despite all that he held onto Stone the stone, like his life depended on it. I love that scene because it's hella gay, but I love it even more because it's amazing writing, giving us the payoff for the forshadwed "I won't miss you when you're gone" scene from way back when. They didn't have to do that. And yet they made that choice. Included that moment for a reason. So I'd love to think that even back then, they were very willing to play with the dynamic of them going forward.

Clearly things and plans changed After Movie 1 , after we saw these two and made Stobotnik as big as it is. I'll talk about movie 2 in a hot second, but let's return to the way they promoted 2 first. Cause THAT was CLEARLY queerbaiting ... or was it... ? For you see, they knew what they were doing, they knew how to get us all excited , posting this on Valentine, letting Sonic make a heart, drawing the whole thing in a romantic light, going so far as to include bi-lighting in the trailer. On top of the latte art that was designed to get us queers to show up. I saw that art, freaked out and showed it to all of my friends. One friend, let's call her Barbara, smiled at me, like you smile at somone who still believes in the Easter Bunny and told me she hoped I knew they were playing with me. In fact, she was kind of dissapointed I allowed them to get to me so much. And I KNEW. I knew they were trying to bait me. I'm not stupid. This isn't the first time I've been queerbaited after all. And it won't be the last time, that's for sure. And yet, I didn't care because I loved that they acknowledged us. Loved that they were willing to give us something, even if it wasn't actually real and they were clearly NEVER going to include actual ship latte art of Stone & Robotnik together. Cause that would be gay. Haha. And those two totally weren't gay. Ain't I right? :)) Queer rep has gotten more common and yet, so has queerbaiting. Cause nowadays the chance that something could be actually made canon is way more likely than it was, let's say, 15 years ago. So companies love to use that, love playing into that even more. Like, do I have to remind you all what they were doing for the Deadpool & Wolverine movie marketing ??? Just saying.

As much as I love Lee and as much as we're loosing our marbels every time he as much as winks in our direction, I'll not be using any of his posts as evidence for the points I'm about to make further down. Cause, you know, at the end of the day, he's just one of us as well. Another shipper. A hella supportive shipper who may or may not have had a hand in the way he portrayed Stone, but still. Love you Lee. Thank you for having our back!

So now. Movie 2. And the godforsaken Maid Dress Scene. I hope we are all proud of ourselves. Cause that scene was our doing. I promise you, promise you!!! they didn't have that planned before the fandom happend. They saw us and were like "You can have this. As a treat :3". Personally I didn't freak out as much as the rest of you all, but I'm glad you guys had fun. It was a gift to us after all, so I guess it's fine if we enjoyed it. Jokes aside though, let's get back to what movie 2 did, even though they may or may not have realised it at the time. As in: They made Stobotnik canon. What do you mean by canon, Smartie?????, you might ask. And I'll answer, cause it's simple: I mean canon, as in canon. Yes, that's right. Stobotnik has been canon for a while... or... at least 50% of it. Let's get back to the Latte, shall we? Back then I thought they were making fun of us. Queerbaiting at it's finest. And then the movie happend and Stone confessed his love right then and there for the world to see, basically drawing fanart into Robotnik's caffe for who knows how long and Robotnik? That stupid -3000 IQ genius knew. He fucking knew!! Has always known and was either unwilling to read between the lines or mistook the affection for simple loyalty. Not-Spoiler: It's the later by the way, because we have that deleted scene. That beautiful deleted scene. But let's get back to the art for a second. Because I was basically dying in my seat. And I didn't think people were talking about it enough, cause it was the proof, not that stupid maid outfit that was simply put in as a joke that audiences were supposed to laugh at. But this. This! The whole scene were Stone was lovesick and heartbroken, drawing art of his lost non-lover, the way the life returned to his eyes the second said man returned, on top of literally all of him for the rest of the movie prooved one thing to me: Agent Stone was in love with Dr. Robotnik. It's clear he's never said so out loud, and for a good reason, but he didn't have to. It was so obvious anyone with an IQ lower than 299 could have seen. Just a shame that that one 300 IQ guy couldn't. So now, deleted scene time. Woopwoop. :P Recall how they had planned to make Stone even more in love and heart-eyed - JESUS CHRIST MY GUY - but went for an alternative scene instead? In case you aren't familiar with the scene, it's basically Stone telling Robotnik how he's followed his guide-lines, making the Stone Comic Canon, how he's made sure noone touched his babies, how he's known he'd return, how he's waited for him all this time cause he knew KNEW he'd come back and for a second there Robotnik doesn't know what to say. He looks that man in the eyes and for a split second he wonders, questions, and then... then he's scared. Scared of what that could mean. Scared that he could actually mean something to someone and he panics and decides to use violence to laugh it off, to refelect, to pretend that in that moment, he didn't actually feel something. That Stone didn't make him feel ... vulnerable. Because at that point, he cares too. He's not ready to admit it, at least not without having to joke about it. But he does. He does!! And the thought of it being mutual scares him. Probably more than anything ever has. Because if he allows this, this feeling to settle and bloom, he's got to admit that this, whatever it is, has the power to destroy and hurt him. And he can't do that. Maybe not again. Maybe not ever. Not now. Not now that he's what... 40? and has found peace with the fact that he'll die alone.

I know they were leaning into Stobotnik a lot, but they also... kind of didn't, following the natural consequences of the stuff they had set up in the prior movie, allowing Robotnik to go through an actual character arc. It's subtle, and he's still and asshole - always wil be - but that doesn't change the fact that his arc still exists and is actually very well done. Stone doesn't really have that obvious of an arc. Because it's not really much of an arc, we're just learning more about him, fleshing out his character. The only thing we know for certain is, that he adores and loves Robotnik and that he's willing to betray everyone and everything for him. Even if Robotnik never loves him back. He's accepted that, as long as he's alowed a place at his side.

And now, my fellow shippers, movie 3. Or rather, pre-movie 3. And the much discussed question: Are we getting queerbaited? Well, that depends how you define queerbaiting, doesn't it? Is it queerbaiting if it's unrequited love? Cause that's our current standpoint. Stone has found his doctor, nursed him back to health, lived with him, been by his side for months (years) and the only thing that is standing in their way now is: Robotnik's feelings. They have great build-up, put this man on a path, shown us how he's grown and now all that's left is to see, how they'll decide to finish his story. If I look at all that's happend up to this point, from a writing/writer stand-point, I'd say, that it would make sense for Robotnik to admit, that he cares. Cause that has been his arc, his journey. To admit that yes: He doesn't care about humanity, but he does care about Stone. Has for a very long while in fact. Be that platonic, or romantic. Doing literally anything else would not make sense at that point and would actually be an insult to their own work. And their writing has been pretty solid, so I'm confident we will get something. Especially since... I HAVE seen the leaks. Now, storyboards are just that. Something from early development, something that could change. Which is why I'd normally ignore them.... iiiiiiiif it weren't for that one line from the trailer. That one. fucking. line. That made me realise: Holy shit, those mad lads are doing it. They are finishing Robotnik's arc. That's when I understood why Team 1 was loosing their marbels. Because,

SPOILER!!!!! he is going to admi it. He is going to admit it to himself, and he's gonna do something so wild and crazy it scares me more than you understand. The only question is. Will he surive to tell the tale? And if he does, will he be brave enough to share that admission with Stone?

END OF SPOILER

I don't have links to the storyboard. In retrospect, I should have saved them. But what's done is done. Not that I cod delete the knowledge of what I've seen even if I tried. People seem hesitant to tell people all they have seen, cause those of us who have, and know the Sonic 2 story seem to have a good understanding of what and when that spoiler is taking place. And especially what outcome it seems to be leading into. But, if anyone asks, I am willing to share what it was I saw. If you really wanna know. If you are truly sure.

That being said. How do I feel about Stobotnik? I don't think we're getting a kiss. But I think (and hope) we're gonna get a moment. A moment of Robotnik being open, of him sharing that Stone means somethig to him. They even have the potential to include a joke here, of Stone perhaps attempting to hug Robotnik, for him to allow it for 3 seconds or so, only for him to punch Stone and say something along the lines of: "Okay, that's enough." You know, something close to the High Five moment, just THIS TIME they actually do the high five (or hug). You can have the feels and the joke. It's still Robotnik after all. It's what I'm hoping for, actually, cause I don't think Robotnik is ready for THAT admission quite yet. A hug though? That I could see.

I know we still have to fight against being exploited and played with, but that being said, I don't think love confessions have to always be that huge thing, that clashing of tongues and body parts. They can also be soft and quite. A moment of vulnerability and trust. Of openness. In fact, if Robotnik were to allow Stone a hug, it would be even more impactful than a kiss could ever be. He's hugging Gerald in the trailer, so they have shown me that they are not afraid to make this man hug.

It gives me hope. And it - and the leaks - are the reason why I'm Team 1. I think we could actually get canon Stobotnik you all. And I'm so hyped you don't understand. Let's see what Stobotnik marketing they are going to feed us over the next few months. I, for one, am looking forward to it. ^-^

Live long and prosper 🥚🖤🪨

[apomaro-mellow]

Runaway Royalty 4

Part 3

Since the hunt was on, the camp stopped sooner than they had planned, setting up so that they could hunker down and figure out just where to find the lost royals. Eddie was pacing around while the older members knocked around a few ideas. That if all three had truly been kidnapped, it might be by someone with designs on them. But there was also the idea that they simply ran away from their duties.

“If they ran, I bet they went west”, Gareth said. “They’d have enough coin to charter a boat and head off the continent.”

“You think they’d actually go that far?”, Harold questioned. “They’d get tired before reaching the coast.”

Steve was about to take offense to that when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be one of the lost princes. So he kept his mouth shut. The less he said the better.

“Why are we even bothering with them?!”, Eddie threw his hands up. “Did it ever occur to you lot that once we have them, we’d have to transport them back to their castles? Is that what you want? To play escort to a bunch of pampered pups?”

“We can handle some uppity folk, right Jeff?”, Gareth turned the question to him.

“Oh, yeah, sure”, Jeff rolled his eyes. “They can’t be any worse than our Bandit Prince. You can give them the royal treatment.”

Eddie scoffed, arms crossed as he started to pace again, more furious this time. “I don’t want anything to do with them. Have you heard what they say about Prince Stephen? Spoiled rotten to the core. No thank you.”

Steve stood up straight at that. “I’m sure Prince Edwin is no prize either. If the rumors about him are to be believed.”

Robin kicked his leg. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Let’s get our ears to the ground”, Greenley said. “Someone has to know something about them.”

There was a bit more talk, names thrown around - contacts, Steve surmised when someone told him to go to the river to fetch some water. He frowned.

“Why do I-ow!” He glared at Robin when she kicked him again. The problem was she wasn’t subtle at all. And his ankle was beginning to suffer from it.

“You got away not helping with camp last time”, Gareth said. “Everyone here has tasks to do. And yours right now is to get water.”

Steve frowned. But he remembered Eddie’s words about spoiled Prince Stephen. Someone had to get water for them. And he wasn’t doing anything else. So while he knew nothing about fetching water from a river, he was given a couple buckets and sent off. He got a good distance away from the camp when he heard someone approaching from behind. When he turned, he saw Eddie. The other man barely got out a ‘hey-’ before Steve turned his nose up and walked on, the river not too far ahead.

He could hear Eddie behind him, calling out and trying to catch up. Steve ignored him and stopped at the river’s edge. It ambled along calmly for now. It could probably turn to a raging current after rain.

“Hey, did you hear me calling you? What’s your problem?”, Eddie asked once he got to Steve’s side.

Steve’s head whipped to him. “My problem is-” His mouth hung open and then he snapped it shut. Because how ridiculous would it be for him to be offended on Prince Stephen’s behalf? So he had to switch gears as Eddie looked at him questioningly.

“I’m not looking forward to playing host to Prince Edwin is all”, he said as he approached the river to start filling the buckets.

“Oh. Are you not a fan of His Highness?”, Eddie asked.

“I haven’t really heard anything good about him.” Steve knelt down and let the current fill the first bucket. “I heard he’s always talking over others despite never having anything interesting to say. That he’s notoriously dim-witted too.”

“Well that’s something he and Prince Stephen would have in common”, Eddie said. “If the rumor mill is to be believed, he’s often slow on the uptake.”

Steve slammed the bucket down on the ground, sloshing some of the water and making it spill over the top. He knew that’s what people thought of him. And he knew that he wasn’t as academic as his brilliant sister. But it was still a sore spot that people equated that to being completely brainless. 

“Well then he and Prince Edwin would be a perfect match, wouldn’t they?”

Eddie was scowling now. “I don’t wanna have to deal with them any more than you do. But the pack has spoken.”

“Why did you follow me out here?”, Steve asked, exasperated. 

“Because I know you and your sister aren’t common travelers”, Eddie said, noticing the way Steve tensed up. “I don’t know what you’re running from, but it’s obvious you come from money. And I thought you might appreciate some help.”

“I’m fully capable of putting water in a bucket”, Steve said, going ahead and doing so with the second bucket. Then he stood up, grabbing both by their handles and lifted, hoping the alpha couldn’t see the way his arms shook.

“More hands make for a lighter load”, Eddie said, taking one of the buckets from him. “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re incapable.” This close, he could tell how Steve’s scent went from something sour to something light. It was something buttery and sweet.

“Do you think there’s a true chance of finding them?”, Steve asked.

Knowing his determined crew, they’d make a dogged attempt. There was a good chance they found at least two of the nobles. But Eddie wasn’t about to say something so specific that would get Steve asking about the third.

“I think the royal guard will find their lost wards first. What are they good for otherwise?”

They walked back to the camp and Eddie handed one of the buckets off to someone whose name Steve hadn’t learned yet. He also took Steve’s and Steve felt a bit miffed that the other man carried both off with ease. The sounds of laughter caught his attention and it was none other than his sister in the middle of it.

“Didn’t know your sister was such a fan of Princess Robin”, Harold said through tears of laughter.

Robin beamed while Steve glared. 

“I just think the kingdom is in good hands with her”, Robin said. 

“Is it just because she’s your namesake?”, Eddie asked.

“Now how would that work? She and I are like the same age”, Robin said, squeaking when Steve pinched her side.

“Yes, she’s your name sake”, Steve said through gritted teeth. “Because you were born a few months after her.”

“Does that mean you were named for the princess’ brother then?”, Jeff asked.

“No, Steve here was named for our mother’s previous lover”, Robin joked.

This time when Steve pinched her, he did it openly. His ears burned at the laughs at his expense but it was better than anyone catching on. He hadn’t thought about coming up with a fake identity. His nickname would have been enough of a cover. It became a little less inconspicuous when he was traveling with his sister who hadn’t gone with an alias at all. They really should have spent more time thinking of fake names for themselves.

“Excuse me while I speak with my sister in private”, he said before grabbing her by the arm.

Once they were a good distance from everyone, she pulled her arm away from him and glared. “What’s going on with you?”

“We need to keep a low profile. And you’re chatting yourself up with these people?”, he hissed.

“They’re the ones who brought up Princess Robin. And I’m not going to lie about myself.”

“When you run away from home it’s kind of a package deal”, Steve said.

Robin crossed her arms and cocked her hips. “So I can’t like a royal because people will suspect I’m her? Don’t be silly, Steve.”

“Someone’s going to start making connections if you keep singing your own praises.”

“And you badmouthing Prince Edwin is any different? Keep doing that and people are going to start wondering why you’re so biased against him. Almost like a scorned lover.”

“I can’t be a scorned lover when we were never lovers.”

“Look, they’re not gonna put their greenest members on such a grand scheme”, Robin said, her posture relaxing. “We’ll probably be given chores around the camp. And they can’t find us out there if we’re always here.”

Steve’s tensed up posture began to relax as well and he let out a sigh. “You might be right…”

“Might be? I’m as bright as Princess Robin. And as we all know, her intellect rivals the greatest minds in history.”

“You’re also as insufferable as the princess, whose own brother has described her like a buzzing gnat”, Steve said, turning to walk back to camp.

“And how would you know what the prince thinks, hm? Suspicious~”, Robin teased as they came upon the others. “What’d we miss?”

Eddie held out a cup of sticks. “We’re all drawing straws to see who gets to go into town with Rick to meet up with his contact.”

“They don’t like big groups”, Rick said, his long hair graying on both his head and his beard. “So I can only take two with me.”

They all drew without looking and most opened their hands without much fuss. But there were stakes involved for three of them. So when Steve caught a glimpse of color on Robin’s, he knocked into her, causing her to drop her stick.

“Sorry, clumsy me”, he said, pretending to drop his as well. He picked them both up, switching in the process.

Most didn’t pay attention but Robin could tell what he did. Her face pinched and he stared at her hard, hoping she didn’t say anything.

“Looks like it’s me”, Steve said, announcing his draw.

“And me”, Eddie added, showing his own. 

“Well get ready young buck”, Rick said to Eddie, then looked Steve up and down. “And doe. The next town is a few miles away. We need to get there before sundown.”

Steve nodded and this time Robin pulled him off to the side. “Why did you do that?”, she whispered harshly.

“Because between the two of us, I’ll draw less attention.” Robin had changed neither her appearance nor her name. And they were sure to draw up posters searching for them soon.

“I can’t let you go alone with two alphas!” Robin’s eyes held a very real fear for him and Steve remembered that he had wanted to go alone. He didn’t know how he could have been so cruel as to leave her without a word.

“I’ll be fine. You’ve seen Eddie, he moves like a fish out of water. And Rick looks like a gentle shove would knock him out.”

“Still”, Robin took her dagger from her side and handed it to Steve. “Should they or anyone else have any ideas.”

Steve took it and within the hour, he, Eddie, and Rick were all making the trek to the nearby village. Rick did most of the talking, telling him about his contact. Said he was a real piece of work but also knew more about anything than anyone he’d ever known. Steve didn’t absorb most of it. He reminded himself that Robin was safer in the camp than she was roaming about town. Prince Edwin’s disappearance also weighed on him.

Not that he cared for a man who hadn’t even kept up regular missives with his betrothed. But what had happened to him. He and Robin had run away, but was it possible that the prince had been taken? If so, by whom? He knew it didn’t concern him anymore. Still, if there was someone out to get the royals, that was all the more reason for him and his sister to keep their heads down until they settled somewhere safe.

Part 5

[say-hwaet]

That's The Way it Is

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three: Secrets Kept Summary: Arthur takes you to Horseshoe Overlook, where your supposed family for the last fifteen years has been. Who are these people? And what will you learn about yourself along the way? Warnings: Mature themes, mild language, interrupted cursing Word Count: ~8,400 words Author's note: This is an Arthur Morgan x You story, but I do have some character design/creative license. I wanted to experiment with the element of pretending to be someone else, so the MC does have a given name and character descriptions. Just wanted to give you a heads-up in case it doesn't fit your vibe. I hope you'll decide to give it a chance anyway!

You wish you had a paper and pencil. So many names, though slow and steady they come, and your head hurts too much to keep track of them all.

Arthur has gone down the list. John. Hosea. Dutch. Susan. Pearson. Strauss. Javier. Bill. Abigail. Jack. Uncle. Mary Beth. Tilly. Jenny. Mac. Davey. Charles. Karen. Sean. Molly. Micah. He gave his perspective on how you met them, how they've treated you, and their role in the gang.

You try to hang on to each name, each story Arthur spins, a thread you’re desperate to weave into the fabric of your lost memories. But it's overwhelming, like drinking from a firehose, and you feel the familiar ache behind your eyes intensify with every new piece of information.

"Slow down," you plead as you hold onto him. The scenery passes by you at a steady pace, but with the tender knot building on the side of your head, it’s almost dizzying. “I can’t remember them all.”

“Sorry,” Arthur replies. “I got carried away.”

You find yourself clutching tighter to his jacket. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can, Kit,” Arthur’s voice softens as he reassures you. “We’ve got time.” His gloved hand gently pats your hand. His touch is comforting, familiar in a way you can't yet understand but makes you feel safer nonetheless. “We’ll take it slow,” he continues, “If people start crowdin’ ya, I’ll be there to ensure they back off.”

You manage a smile. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”

The rest of the ride is quieter, your head resting against his back as the landscape shifts around you. The endless stretch of dusty roads, framed by the occasional group of trees, seems to mirror your fragmented memories — vast and somewhat desolate. You close your eyes and try to focus on the warmth Arthur provides, the color under your eyelids changing as shadows cast down on you over the trees.

And soon, you leave the train tracks and enter through some trees, going down a soft slope.

And suddenly, you hear a voice, quickly recognizing it as the drunken cackle you heard during the fight in Valentine. “Who goes there!”

And Arthur answers back. “It’s me! Arthur!”

You open your eyes, but try to remain hidden behind Arthur’s back. You’re here.

“Welcome back!” the man replies, almost cheerful. And you hear his voice draw closer as Arthur continues to ride.

It is then that the man sees you. “Ho-ly sh—!”

“Shut up, Bill, you want the Pinkertons to hear us?!”

Drunken Cackle, now identified as Bill, fits how Arthur described him. Brutish, boarish, with a thick beard, leather duster, and plaid shirt. He looks like he had just rolled in some mud, and you wouldn’t want to be in his sights if he wants to fight. He quickly runs back into camp, rifle held tightly in his hands. “Hey! It’s Kit! Arthur has Kit…!”

Here it comes.

“I can’t tell if he’s happy or not,” you say under your breath.

Arthur clearly heard you, for his warm laugh rumbles his body beneath your cheek.

"Either way, we'll handle it," he assures, his voice a low murmur as he steers the horse smoothly into the heart of the camp.

As you enter the camp, a wave of curious and astonished faces turn toward you. Some of them you recognize from Arthur's descriptions—like raggedy-faced Uncle with his sluggish posture.

“Oh! It is Kit!”

“Kitka’s alive!”

Arthur pulls Montana up by a hitching post and dismounts first. Tying him off, Arthur approaches you and lifts his arms. You accept his gesture and placing your hands on his firm shoulders, he helps you down.

You remain close to him, as he wraps a protective arm around you and escorts you further into the camp.

You see several tents pitched, and a couple of lean-tos. There is also a large chuck wagon and a cauldron over a fire, cooking some kind of stew.

These aren’t the wagons and tents that were in your memory. Maybe Arthur was right. A different time, when you were younger.

You look at all their faces, most smiles and bright eyes as they begin to gather around.

One woman steps forward, her graying hair styled atop her head. "Well, if it ain't a ghost," she says, her voice surprisingly tender. "Welcome home, Kitka."

You try to place her, but struggle. So many names and descriptions to sort through, and your brow pinches.

The woman, seeing the vacancy in your eyes, looks at you with worry. “What’s wrong, girl?”

You feel Arthur pull you closer to him, and while this would normally concern you, you prefer it in the midst of this confusing sea of faces. "Nothing's wrong, Miss Grimshaw," Arthur answers for you, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of concern only perceptible to you. “She just…don’t remember us. She got shot really bad and, erm…forgot everything up until Blackwater.”

Susan. This is Susan.

The woman’s eyes widen and she looks at Arthur with concern. “What? How the hell does she forget us?”

A woman, full-figured and blonde, scoffs at the old woman. “Can’t you just be happy she’s alive? For all we knew, she was dead!”

Susan scowls at her. “You watch your tone there, missy…! I missed her just as much as you did, if not more so! I’ve known her since she was a girl!”

Another woman, honey-blonde and slender, comes between them. “Let’s not fight, please!” She turns to you, offering a soft smile that twinkles with empathy as she steps forward. “Kit, I’m Mary Beth, it’s really good to see you standin’ here.”

Mary Beth, a kind soul, as Arthur described her. It was clear by the way he spoke that you and her had a deep friendship. And by the way she takes your hands, there is a true fondness that she has for you. No ill will or misgivings. Maybe someone you can trust.

“You were my friend,” you say, trying to will a memory into your conscious mind.

Her eyes brighten at your words and she squeezes your hands. “Yes, we often shared stories we’ve written. You were teaching me some Czech phrases.”

You remember some words that were spoken to you in your memories with that tongue. You hope that you will learn to speak it again.

Arthur's hand tightens around your shoulder, grounding you as your mind whirls with the fragments of the life you once lived. The words Mary Beth mentions stir something faint within you—a distant echo of laughter and whispered secrets under starlit skies. "Maybe," you venture, hope threading through your tone, "we could try that again.”

Mary Beth nods, and gently backs away.

Another woman, young with dark hair in a tight bun, holds the hand of a little boy.

You smile, deducing who they are. “Abigail and Jack…”

The little boy, with a twinkle in his eyes, beams at the mention of his name. “Aunt Kit!” And breaking free of his mother’s grip, he rushes to you and hugs you at the legs. “I missed you…!”

“Oh!” you gasp, more so at the name rather than his gesture. You look at Arthur. “Am I…?”

He shakes his head. “It’s…kinda hard to explain.” Arthur’s eyes are filled with that old, familiar pain—the unspoken torment of truths too tangled to unweave in a moment. Abigail steps forward, her expression soft and understanding, as she gently retrieves Jack, allowing him back into the safety of her arms.

“Sorry,” she says. “He’s just excited.”

You look at her apologetically, imagining the restraint she must feel to know you and not react similarly to how the boy had. “Don’t be,” you say.

And suddenly, come in a flock of questions, by voices you can’t yet identify.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Did the Pinkertons get you?”

“Have you seen Mac? or Sean?”

“We thought Arthur was crazy!”

“Hey, hey!” Arthur barks. “Didn’t you hear a damned thing I said? She don’t remember!”

“And that includes you, don’t it, Cowpoke?”

There is a hush over the flock of voices as they turn to look at the one who just posed the silencing question. Your eyes fall on a man. Blonde, with a long mustache, white hat, and pot belly. He’s leaning against the table in front of the chuckwagon, eyeing the sharpness of his knife.

The feeling he gives you is evidence enough. Micah Bell.

Arthur remains still, his eyes narrowing. “Just say it, Micah.”

Micah laughs, a slick, demeaning laugh, as though he has all the cards in his hand. “Must be real hard, watching your plans fall apart, Morgan. The woman you love wandering back from the grave with no memory of any of us, especially you.”

The tension could be cut with a knife. Arthur’s jaw tightens, his fists clench at his sides. You feel an inexplicable urge to defuse the situation, yet you are more curious than anything. Love? What does he mean by that?

“I don’t know what’cher talkin’ about, Micah.”

Micah lifts his chin, like he isn’t worried about having his neck slit. “Oh, I think you do. You really thought you could keep that under wraps? All that sneakin’ off and…whisperin’…you were plannin’ to leave us, weren’t you, Morgan?” And he points the blade of his knife at you. “With that…circus whore.” And he cackles. “Must be real good…all flexible under them sheets.”

And the next thing that happens is a blur. Arthur leaves your side, a blur of brown, black, and green, as he body slams into Micah.

Fists fly, a dance of anger and old grudges, playing out under the heavy gaze of the setting sun. Dust swirls around them as your heartbeat echoes the rhythmic thumping of boots against the dry ground. You stand frozen, watching as each punch from Arthur seems to carry a year's worth of suppressed fury as he lands punch after punch at Micah’s face.

There are several cries from the women and you watch as Charles and John try to break them up.

Arthur roars with a rage that sends goosebumps up your spine. “I’LL KILL YOU, YOU SONOFA—!!!”

“ENOUGH…!!!”

The command rings loud enough for Arthur to pause for a second, just long enough for Charles to pull him off of Micah. Arthur doesn’t resist, but the fire in his eyes does not leave.

You feel gentle hands on you, and you whip your head to see Mary Beth on your left, and another girl, Tilly, on your right. They try to escort you away, but you remain planted, your only concern being for Arthur.

And that is when someone steps out of the largest tent. Tall, imposing, with dark hair and a dark vest with a gold chain. Rings on many fingers.

Dutch. It is Dutch Van Der Linde.

He doesn’t look in your direction, immediately walking over to the restrained Arthur and downed Micah. “What the hell are you doing, Arthur?!” he roars. “Is this what we do now? Start fights? Nearly beat our own men to death?!”

“Micah started it, Dutch!” A young man says. “He was saying things about Kit!”

Your name seems to do something to Dutch, as his eyes widen and his body tenses. “….Who, Lenny…?”

Lenny nods and points at you. “Kit! She’s back! She’s alive!”

“Didn’t you hear the commotion, Dutch?” Susan asks, almost perplexed that he didn’t hear it.

Dutch turns, his gaze finally landing on you. For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. His eyes remain intense, a mix of disbelief and confusion washing over him. "Kit?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the murmur of the crowd.

You nod, feeling a tightness in your chest. This is the man you wanted to see. He was on that boat. He may know what happened to you. He was there. “Yes, Dutch. It is me.”

And suddenly, there is a shift in his demeanor. His body relaxes, and he opens his arms. “My child, you’ve come home…!”

Arthur looks on, confused, and Charles lets him go. He remains still and watches Dutch carefully as the leader approaches you.

Unsure what to do, you make your way over to him and accept his embrace as he holds you tightly. “We thought you were dead!”

“It is a miracle I am alive, Dutch.” You come away from his embrace and look him in the eyes. “I’ve been in Blackwater all this time.”

“Really?” Dutch asks inquisitively, his eyes reflecting a sudden interest. “And how did you find your way here?”

You look over at the still-seething gunslinger. “Arthur found me.”

Dutch's grin widens as he turns to face Arthur. “So, he did.” He turns back to you and places a firm hand on your shoulder. “Too bad Hosea had gone off to Emerald Ranch for a score, he’d love to be here while we celebrate!”

“But what about Micah?” Bill interjects, breaking the jovial atmosphere. “You still have that fight to deal with.”

Dutch's smile fades as he narrows his eyes. “I’ll deal with that, Bill,” he says in a low voice filled with determination. He looks back at everyone else gathered around him. “But for now, we’re going to have ourselves a party!”

There is a collective cheer and people begin gathering around you, their faces a mix of curiosity and joy. The sense of community, something you've been missing for so long, wraps around you like a warm blanket.

“We’ve missed gossipin’ with you, Kit!” Karen says, a laugh bubbling out of her lips. “We got so much more good stuff over the last month or so.”

Tilly, still holding your arm, escorts you to a place to sit down. It is a large log, lying in front of a small fire. Mary Beth and Karen sit close by, giggling like school girls.

Music starts somewhere in the distance and looking over, you see Javier playing a guitar, and he comes over to you. “Mind if I join you, ladies?”

Tilly giggles and that seems to be permission enough.

Javier settles down on the ground near the fire, his fingers already caressing the strings of the guitar, pulling a melodic tune into the air that gently swirls around the growing firelight. The song is a soft, happy thing that somehow carries a thread of love through its core.

But the soft moment is quickly ended when Uncle comes lopping over. “Play a good one! One I can actually sing to…!”

Javier rolls his eyes moaning, “Ay, way to ruin a moment, amigo!”

Uncle doesn’t seem to care, waving his bottle of beer in the air. “This is a party, not a soiree!”

“Dios Mio, fine! What do you want to sing?”

“Ring Dang Doo!” he cackles and by the reaction of the girls, it is clear that it is very undesirable.

Amidst the groans and laughter, Javier strums a few hesitant chords, his expression a blend of amusement and resignation. “Alright, Uncle, just for you,” he mutters, and the first notes of “Ring Dang Doo” echo into the night, bringing with it a raucous cheer from some of the other men who are in the vicinity.

The words are rather distasteful and you are relieved that you don’t know the song at all. As the laughter rises and falls around the flickering flames, your mind drifts, tugged by the playful mockery in Uncle's voice and the indulgent frustration in Javier's strumming. It’s moments like these that sharpen the edges of what you've lost—memories that feel just beyond your grasp, lingering like shadows at the fringes of the firelight. You feel a pang in your chest, a dull ache, as if your heart knows what your mind cannot remember.

The stars above twinkle with an indifference that feels almost cruel in its beauty, the vastness reminding you of everything that is missing. As the song ends and the laughter dies down, you find yourself wishing for a melody that could carry you back through the years to the moments that are now just ghosts in your mind.

Then, as if summoned by your longing, Javier switches tunes again, this time to something slower, more melancholic. The notes are deep, resonating with the unspoken sorrows.

And Karen, bobbing her head softly, begins to sing the tune.

I ain't got no father

I ain’t got no father

I ain't got no father

To buy the clothes I wear

And Pearson, the gang’s cook, joins her.

I'm a poor, lonesome, cowboy

Poor, lonesome, cowboy

I’m a poor, lonesome, cowboy

A long way from home

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat growing as the words seem to amplify your own sense of displacement. How aptly they resonate with the tide of confusion that has been your companion since waking up in this unfamiliar life. The song, meant for others' longing, mirrors your fragmented memories, flickering like the campfire before you.

And you look at these faces, faces you should know, and you realize that one of the most important is missing.

Arthur. Where is he?

You sit up straight, looking around, but you don’t see him at the table, or by the chuck wagon. You slowly rise to your feet and begin to leave the group.

“Hey!” you hear Uncle call. “Where you goin’?”

You don’t care to answer, as the music and light fade away from you as you leave. You walk back toward Montana, he’s still here. Arthur must be—

“...And I need you with me on this, son. You and Micah need to get along.”

You freeze. You have just started walking by Dutch’s tent, and no doubt he doesn’t expect you to be listening.

And you hear Arthur, speaking with great agitation. “You know how I feel about him, Dutch—”

“You went and got him out of that jail, and I am thankful, but now is not the time for grudges. Kit is back now, but I can’t have any distractions.”

“She ain’t a distraction, Dutch, but—”

“But what?”

“You—you said she drowned, Dutch.” And there is a sudden silence. “Why did you tell me she fell off the boat and drowned?”

Drowned? He thought you drowned? Can you swim? You don’t know, you can’t remember, but you’d think by living in California, playing in tide pools, you would have such a skill.

Dutch stammers and you can hear the growing frustration in his voice. “Well—well—a lot happened that day, son! Some did fall off that boat, and I didn’t see her after that! Was I to go into that water lookin’?”

“Well, no, but—”

“But nothing! She’s here now…” And then Dutch’s voice lowers, bordering threatening. “…and if what Micah said is true about you—”

“It—It ain’t true! I weren’t gonna leave, and she and I—” He stops mid-sentence and sighs deeply. “I said I have your back, Dutch. Always will.”

There is another pause and Dutch speaks with a deep satisfaction. “Good. Now go and join the party. I’ll make sure Micah lives to fight another day.”

You hear heavy footfalls draw near you, and you take a few steps back until they stop again.

“Just for the record, Dutch, I don’t regret punchin’ him.”

And Dutch replies with a great agitation, exhaling deeply. “Just go.”

You motion to hide, and you do just in time to see Arthur head off not toward the party, but into the trees. You are tempted to follow, but you can’t risk Dutch seeing you. So, you decide to return to the party. It’s best you find Susan to find out where you will be sleeping.

As you weave your way back toward the lively sounds and flickering lights of the party, your mind replays the troubling conversation. Why did Dutch say you drowned? And why would Micah say that he was planning to leave? With you? The uncertainty muddles your thoughts, mixing with things you know and what you are trying to remember.

Micah said Arthur loves you and that he tried to keep it a secret. Is it true? Or, more importantly, do you want it to be true?

You don't have a solid answer, and the gnawing uncertainty fuels a dull ache in your chest. As you approach the periphery of the gathering, laughter bubbles over from the crowd, mixing with the clink of beer bottles and the strumming of a guitar. It seems alien, almost surreal, given the storm brewing within your own mind. The warm, yellow light from the lanterns dances across the faces of the revelers, casting long shadows that sway with the music. You feel detached, an observer of their joy rather than a partaker.

Susan finally comes into view, and as she turns her head to the rhythm of the song, her eyes catch you.

You smile and approach her. “I am getting tired. Where can I sleep?”

She clicks her tongue and rises to her feet. “Say no more, girl.” And she begins to lead you away from the gathering. “Come with me.”

As you follow Susan through the throng of dancers and revelers, the smell of tobacco and whiskey mingles with the evening air, heavy with the scent of pine and earth. The sounds of the party fade as you walk further away, replaced by the soft crunching of leaves underfoot.

Susan leads you to a lean-to with other bed rolls lying there. “This is where you’ll be until we can get you a separate tent. Mary Beth and Tilly also sleep here.”

You look at her, with saddened eyes. “I left none of my things here?”

Her eyes soften and she shakes her head as she explains. “When everything had gone to hell, we didn’t have much time to pack. We took what we could, and when we thought you had died…” She shrugs her shoulders. “It didn’t make much sense to grab those things.” She rests a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, hon.”

You nod. It makes sense. You can’t begrudge them for fleeing for their lives. As far as they knew, you were dead. Why would they bring a dead person’s things when they needed the bare essentials first?

Susan bids you goodnight, and calmly walks away. Alone for the first time this evening, you go to your knees and take hold of one of the blankets. Wrapping yourself in it, you bury your nose in the wool, taking in a deep breath through your nose.

It doesn’t smell like tobacco, leather, and pine, and you can’t help but feel greatly disappointed.

You curl up under the blanket, your mind swimming with fragmented memories and fleeting emotions. The night air is chillier than expected, seeping through the gaps in the lean-to. Stars peek through the slits above, a stark reminder of how small your problems seem under the vast, indifferent sky.

Despite the comforting warmth of the blanket, you shiver, the cold seeping into your bones as if chasing the warmth of the memories you strain to recall. Somewhere deep within, a flicker of familiarity stirs each time you close your eyes—visions of firelight dancing on a rugged face, laughter mingling with the crackle of burning logs, and the solitude of just two bodies being intertwined together.

Who? Is this you? What memory is this? Your head starts to hurt, but you try to push through it, follow it, will it to make itself clear to you.

Yet, as vivid as these flitting images are, they dissolve into the crisp night air before you can grasp their meaning. A frustration builds within you—a yearning to remember, to understand who you were before the world turned its back on you. The shadows of the past loom larger in the darkness, your heart beating in sync with the slow, methodical drip of a leak somewhere outside your temporary refuge. Each drop sounds like a clock, each tick marking a moment lost to the fog of your forgotten life.

***

It’s morning and you find yourself the first to rise. Sitting up you see the sleeping form of Mary Beth next to you, eyes closed and peaceful. You wonder when everyone has turned in for the night, and can only imagine that it will be a while before they join you. 

You carefully rise, pulling the blanket away from you as silently as you can. Finding your footing, you rise to your feet, and coming out of the lean-to, you stretch out your arms and arch your back. 

You feel muscles relaxing, tempting you to bend backward farther than would seem natural.

…all flexible under them sheets…

Micah’s voice rings in your ear, and you quickly straighten, feeling uneasy and disturbed by his suggestive language. 

You move quickly as your mind goes to what happened. The look on Arthur’s face, like a protective wild animal, as he showed no restraint in beating Micah’s face in. You haven’t seen Micah since, and you didn’t hear where he was taken to recover from the ordeal, or how bad the damage was. You’re curious, the temptation to explore and find out for yourself pricks at you, but you decide against it. 

You walk deeper into the camp, sneaking by sleeping figures and passing the chuck wagon and the table, which has poker cards scattered all over its surface. 

As you continue, a soft, glowing light gathers your attention, and following it, it leads you to the edge of the overlook. You see the rising sun, the glowing orb rising into the sky as it paints pastel colors behind it. 

And you see Arthur sitting on the edge. 

A soft “oh” escapes your lips, loud enough for him to notice and look over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake.”

His eyes meet yours and you feel a small wave of relief wash over you. His gaze is warm, and it's almost as if he understands your unspoken struggle. "I've always been an early riser," he says with a gentle smile.

"Even after the party last night?" you tease, trying to break the tension.

He looks away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "I didn't..." He trails off, looking pensive. "It's not that I didn't want to celebrate," he explains. "I just...”

“I understand,” you say softly, sensing the tension emanating from him. “It was a long day for both of us. It must not have been easy to see me and find that I didn’t remember you.” You see him tense up even more at this and you recoil slightly, giving him space. “About Micah…”

“Don’t worry about that,” he interrupts.

You blink in surprise. “Why? He may be slicker than an oil slick, but his words clearly affected you.” You take a cautious step closer. “What he said was either a pointed deception…” your voice trails off as you nervously swallow. “Or it could be the truth.” As you study the back of his form, the sound of birdsong fills the air and the leaves rustle gently in the breeze. “Which one is it, Arthur?” You wait anxiously for his response, searching for any clue in his stoic posture.

A heavy silence hangs in the air, broken only by the sound of your own breathing. You stand there, rooted to the spot, as each second ticks by with agonizing slowness. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, almost audible in its frantic rhythm. A million thoughts race through your mind, but you push them away, focusing on the one burning question: What is the truth?

You try to keep your voice steady as you ask again, "What would you rather have it be?" Your words hang in the air, filled with uncertainty and hope. If it’s a lie, then everything stays the same. You have friends who know you and a plan to stay with them until things calm down after the events in Blackwater.

But if it is the truth...

Then the man in front of you is keeping something from you. Something between you two, something that happened. 

Arthur scooting away from the ledge, rises to his feet. After a moment he turns around to face you and you eagerly search his eyes for an answer. He takes calm steps toward you and offers his hand. “Come with me.”

What? No, you don’t want him to change the subject. “Arthur…”

“C’mon, I forgot to introduce you to someone.”

You feel miffed but he’s piqued your curiosity once again. And the temptation to hold his hand is greater than you thought it would be. 

And just like that, you slip your hand into his calloused palm and he begins to lead you back into camp. 

You’ve made the inference that Arthur doesn’t share anything he doesn’t want to. If he’s as secretive as Micah implied, then he isn’t going to give you an answer until he’s ready. 

But are you willing to let it go?

For now, you will. Just long enough to see what he’s on about. 

Though his stride is broad, his footfalls are quiet and steady. You try to keep up, but your feet shuffle too loudly in the grass. 

He looks back at you and places his forefinger over his lips. “Shhh….”

Your brow furrows, how dare he tell you to be quiet, when you have a reason to be upset? You are about to slap his arm, but a golden color up ahead catches your eye.

He’s led you outside of camp, near a patch of grass where some horses graze. In the center of them, is a golden palomino American Saddlebred mare. Her coat shines in the sun, her legs strong and graceful, her mane is braided in unique plaits and her tail is long like a bridal train. 

You know it. In your gut, you know it. She’s yours. She’s your Odliv. 

“Say somethin’ to her,” Arthur whispers softly. “You used to have a tune you’d whistle to her.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know it,” you whisper back, an emptiness filling in your stomach. 

That’s when Arthur leans close to you and his lips close to your ear, hums the tune only soft enough for you to hear. 

Your ear begins to ache, triggering a memory. 

Your dark hair wildly dancing in the wind, riding bareback across a field, hands held out like wings of a bird. 

“I’m flying!” you cry. “Arthur, I’m flying!”

You hear a second set of hoofbeats catch up with you and you look to your right to see Arthur, younger and more carefree as he rides beside you on a beautiful blood-red mare. 

The memory fades and out from your lips, comes the soft whistle. 

And in an instant, Odliv’s head perks up and she knickers curiously. When her eyes fall on you, she pounds the ground excitedly and whinnies loudly. 

You feel Arthur nudge you toward her. “Go to her before she wakes everyone up!”

You hurry your steps, maneuvering between the other horses who have also lifted their heads. You reach her and as soon as your hand rests on her forelock, she calms down, her whinnies turning into soft snorts. 

She’s soft to the touch, and you’ll let your fingers spread out and fold in, scratching her softly. She brings her head closer to you, communicating her desire to be loved. 

"She missed you," Arthur says, breaking the peaceful silence that had enveloped you. You turn to face him, but your eyes are still drawn back to the majestic creature in front of you.

"She was red, wasn't she?" Your voice is soft and filled with awe.

Arthur blinks, slightly taken aback. "Who?"

"Boadicea," you reply, barely able to tear your gaze away from the beautiful mare standing before you.

With a quiet chortle, Arthur corrects you, "Liver Chestnut."

You shrug nonchalantly. "No matter, at least I remembered."

After a brief pause, Arthur clicks his tongue and begins to walk away. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it then." The sound of his footsteps recede as he leaves you alone with the horse, the only sounds now being the gentle rustling of leaves and the steady breaths of Odliv.

You flip around, nearly spooking Odliv, and he is walking in the direction of Montana. “What? Where are you going?” You leave your mare and hurry to catch up with him. You still have your question that needs answering. 

He doesn’t answer immediately, reaching Montana and slipping him a sugar cube. “How’ya doin’, boy?” And he gives the stud a good pat. 

“Arthur…?”

He mounts Montana and looks down at you. “I gotta meet up with Hosea. Was supposed to already…but got a little sidetracked.”

Meaning you. You are the distraction, just like Dutch said last night. Is that what he means?

You don’t want to see him go. But you don’t want to get him in trouble. “Can’t I…can’t I go with you?” You’ve come to find that you can hold your own, albeit quite suddenly, with those makeshift explosives you threw at those bandits.  

His eyes soften at that, but he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Kitte—erm—Kitka, it’s probably best that you take it easy for a while. Spread your wings, as they say. Maybe once you get back on your feet.”

Your brow pinches. “But I’m already on two legs.”

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “You did take things too literal sometimes.” He takes the reins and spins Montana around, the horse’s broad muscles moving in powerful ripples. “I’ll be gone a few days. Hopefully, you’ll be meetin’ Sean before too long.” And before you can say anything more, he makes a clicking sound with his mouth, and Montana canters on out of camp. 

You watch the wake of his departure, feeling an unsettling mix of frustration and abandoned hope gnaw at your insides. Left standing alone amidst the camp's morning bustle, you wonder if your past will ever truly circle back to embrace you, or if it is destined to keep galloping ahead—just out of reach like the dust kicked up by Montana's hooves. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn away from Arthur's fading silhouette.

The camp seems full yet oddly hollow as you meander back into camp, still silent while everyone sleeps. You feel rather peckish, and you remember that there were some canned goods in Pearson’s chuckwagon. You suppose it won’t hurt to have a bite, after all, you haven’t eaten in over 24 hours.

You go towards the back of the wagon, an area of camp you haven’t explored yet, and as you look around.

You stop in your tracks.

A young man, bent over and head down, is tied to a tree.

You gasp loudly, which stirs him to awaken. He lifts his head and when his eyes meet yours his eyes widen.

“Please…” he begs. “I need some water.”

You know that you are amongst a gang of outlaws, but you couldn’t imagine why a young man would be tied to a tree with a rope.

He has long, brown hair to his shoulders. It looks like it hasn’t been washed in days. His eyes are bloodshot, either from crying or fatigue, perhaps both.

You think through all the names and descriptions that Arthur gave you, and none seem to match this stranger. You take a quiet step forward. “Who are you?”

He replies with a lilt in his voice, true panic as he whispers. “Nobody! I ain’t done nothin’!” Then his head hangs low. “I am so thirsty…”

You aren’t above helping someone, regardless of why they may be tied to a tree. You see a water bucket with a ladle and walk over to it. You fill the ladle with cool, clear water and bring it to his parched lips. He drinks greedily, water dribbling down his chin and wetting the dust at his knees. After a moment, he seems somewhat revived and lifts his head again, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of fear and gratitude.

"Thank you,” he gasps. “I thought I was going to die…”

“Who tied you here?” you ask. “Why?”

“Dutch had me tied. I…was with Colm, but I ain’t never liked that feller…!”

Colm. You don’t recognize that name. But you can only figure he’s an enemy to Dutch. But why?

“Hey…!” A bark comes from around a lean-to, and you whip around. It’s Bill, grumpy and hungover, and he’s caught you helping his prisoner. “What do you think yer doin’?!” Bill stomps over, his heavy boots stirring up small clouds of dust with each step. His eyes are narrowed in suspicion and anger as he peers at you, then at the ladle in your hand. You feel a shiver of apprehension, but your grip on the ladle tightens slightly, a defiant gesture you can't quite explain yourself.

"He needed water, Bill," you say calmly, meeting his glare with a steady gaze of your own. The air thickens with tension, the only sounds the distant calls of crows and the soft rustle of the dry grass underfoot.

Bill snorts, his mustache twitching in agitation. “Dutch says no food or water ‘til he talks!”

And you suddenly bristle, memories of unkindness shown to you your entire life flooding in quick flashes. What would you have given for just a bit of water or food when your brother was sick and dying? Despite your headache, your fist clenches around the ladle and you swing it to hit Bill hard.

The ladle connects with a satisfying thud against Bill's temple, and he staggers back, more from surprise than pain. His hand instinctively goes to his head, and he scowls fiercely at you. "Kit, what the hell—?"

"Blázen! You know as well as I do that a man's got a right to basics!" you spit out, your voice thick with emotion. "Water is not a privilege. It’s a necessity…!"

Bill stares at you, his anger simmering down into something resembling grudging respect or perhaps confusion. He rubs the spot where the ladle struck, eyes never leaving yours. "Yer memory ain’t all there, so I am gonna spell it for ya…” And he leans close, snarling a threat veiled thinly behind a whisper. "Dutch's orders are law here, Kit. Don’t forget your place, or you’ll find yourself out there with nothin’ and no one."

You swallow hard, the sting of his words biting deeper than the chill in the air. How many times had you been cast out before, left to fend for yourself in the harsh world of indifference and cruelty? You don’t know, but the thought sends a cold wave through your spine. And yet, at the same time, there's a flickering flame of rebellion within you that refuses to be smothered.

"Maybe my memory isn’t fully restored, Bill," you reply, your voice low and steady, "but my sense of what’s right hasn’t faded one bit." You hold his gaze, unflinching, the intensity of your conviction casting a palpable sensation in the air between you.

Bill's eyes narrow as he assesses you, the standoff drawing a curious crowd from the nearby tents. Whispers weave through the other members as they’ve woken to your row, the poor prisoner in the middle, shaking in his boots.

Finally, with a snort, Bill turns away, dismissing the gathering with a wave of his hand. "See to it that he don’t drown," he mutters under his breath, loud enough for only you to hear. There's something akin to admiration in his tone, albeit reluctantly given.

As the crowd disperses, you sigh deeply.

You feel a sudden hand on your arm, and you turn to see Mary Beth, her eyes a mix of gratitude and worry. “I’m glad someone else feels the same way.” And she begins to lead you away from the prisoner. You walk beside her as he links her arm with yours and she leads you around the tents. “I’ve been sneakin’ Kieran some water and scraps since he’s been here.”

Kieran? That’s his name. And since Mary Beth has been helping him, she must know more about it. “Who is he?”

“An O’Driscoll,” she explains. “They are a rival gang. Dutch and Colm go way back, been fightin’ for a while.”

“Oh. Who is Colm, exactly? Why are they fighting?”

“You were there, when it all started. You are one of the original ones.” Mary Beth stops by the horses and you eye Odliv while she grazes. “I wasn’t there, but from what I’ve been told, Dutch killed Colm’s brother and he killed Dutch’s lover, Annabelle.”

Annabelle. You think hard about the name, but it doesn’t register. You shake your head.

Mary Beth continues, “Colm is evil. He’s killed innocent women and children, and shows no mercy, like we do.”

Your brow furrows. “How is tying Kieran to a tree mercy?”

Mary Beth hesitates, her gaze shifting to the ground before she meets your eyes again. "It's not, I suppose. But sometimes..." She trails off, searching for the right words. "Sometimes we have to make choices that don't sit well with us. You know that better than anyone, Kit."

You nod slowly, unsure of what she means.

She sees the confused expression on your face and offers to enlighten you. “When there was plannin’ for the ferry robbery in Blackwater, there were conflicting ideas. Hosea and Arthur were working on a con of their own, some sort of trick on some real estate brokers. And then there was Micah and Dutch, talkin’ about the ferry. You wanted to help Arthur and Hosea, you have always been good with costumes and performances. You can distract the strongest-willed of men…!” She giggles, most likely thinking of a specific instance. “We have always been a great team.”

But you want her to continue about Blackwater. “But what happened? Did I go with him?”

She shakes her head. “Dutch said he needed you with him. To act as a hostage when he robbed the ferry.”

Your eyes widen. “That sounds…dangerous.”

“That’s what you had said. I remember you telling me how worried you were about the whole thing. You said that something didn’t seem right…” Her eyes fall. “You…seemed different. I wish there was something that I could have done, maybe took your place.”

You shake your head, patting her arm. “No. It is as it was. You can’t change the past, Mary Beth.”

There’s a long pause as the air between you thickens with unspoken thoughts, a tangle of regrets and old wounds that no amount of talking can undo. But the soft smile returns to Mary Beth’s face and she pats your hand that rests over her arm. “Let’s do the wash. Us girls always do the wash in the morning, to let the clothes dry. Miss Grimshaw gets on our tails if we aren’t busy come sunup.”

You nod. “Okay, it will be good to keep busy.”

Together, you and Mary Beth gather the worn fabrics and soiled garments scattered around the camp and find the other girls by the washboards and buckets. The fresh morning air is crisp, pinching at your cheeks as you find a place to sit among them.

The chatter among the women is light, yet it carries a weight of shared history that you can't fully grasp. You try to focus on the task at hand, scrubbing at stubborn stains that mar the fabric. As your hands move in rhythmic motions over the washboard, snippets of conversation float around you.

"Molly’s lookin’ at her face in the mirror again…” Karen says while gnawing on a long blade of straw.

The girls look over near Dutch’s tent. Molly, with red hair more blazing than fire, eyes her own reflection as though it were an unfamiliar face, one she's trying to understand or maybe memorize. You can't help but notice the way her brows furrow together, crafting a silent narrative of self-doubt and contemplation that seems all too familiar.

"Molly always did take to heart what Dutch says about appearances being as important as a loaded gun…” Tilly snarks. “But I always thought looks weren’t everythin’.”

“It’s different when you got a man to please,” Karen argues. “I should know. The better you look, the better the pay.”

Mary Beth gasps at her brazenness. “Karen!”

“What? It’s true! Any woman who has had a man knows that.”

You remain silent, the conversation drifting over you like fog settling on a meadow. The practicalities and pitfalls of love seem a distant concern to your current predicament. Yet there's an ache inside that resounds with their words, a ghostly echo of a love you can scarcely remember but feel profoundly.

As you scrub on the shirt in your hand, you notice its color. Blue. The same blue shirt that Arthur had worn when you saw him in Valentine. Your heart skips, caught in the clutches of your most vivid memory, flitting at the edge of your consciousness like a shy bird. The fabric under your fingers suddenly feels heavier, soaked not just with water but with the weight of unspoken words and a past life that might as well have been someone else's dream.

You swallow thickly, thinking about how to word your question. “Did we…Did we talk about a lot of things…like secrets?”

Karen’s eyes sparkle at your question. “Oh yes! Not much gets past us girls!”

And Mary Beth, sweet and sympathetic as ever, can sense what you are getting at. “Is there something you want to know, Kit? Something you told us and want to remember?”

You feel your hands trembling, the words building in your body making it nerve-wracking. “Am I…Am I a virgin?”

There is a sudden stillness when the girls pause their washing.

Tilly is the first to speak, her voice raised higher than her normal range. “What?”

And Karen gets to the meat of the matter. “Why do you wanna know? You pregnant or something?”

You shake your head, you feel instant regret for even asking, but you can’t back out now. “No! I just…been having these dreams…”

“Oh…? What dreams?” Karen asks with a gleam in her eye and a mischievous grin.

“I don’t know…I think they’re memories, as that is how they usually come to me, but I can’t seem to put it all together.”

Mary Beth still looks softly at you, as she wrings a flannel shirt. “You always told us you wanted to wait until marriage.” And before you can doubt her answer she adds, “You were very adamant about it. You said being a performer taught you that.”

Performer? You remember being called circus trash, and also what Micah called you yesterday. 

It lines up. If you had your heart set on waiting…

You let the shirt go for just a moment to look at the ring on your finger. “And I’m not married.”

Tilly shakes her head. “No, Kit. You ain’t.”

“It’s strange,” you laugh. “Being 29 and still…” You work on scrubbing the shirt again, tucking your chin to hide your face behind your hair. “Oh, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“There ain’t no shame in waitin’, Kit.” Karen says, her voice more gentle than her usual teasing. “It’s better with the right person than the wrong one.” She laughs. “I should know.”

Mary Beth sighs, lifting her head and looking all dreamy. “I’m still waitin’ for mine, too.”

At that, Tilly chortles. “Mary Beth, the right one ain’t never gonna happen for you unless they come flyin’ right outta them books you write!”

The laughter that bubbles from Mary Beth is light and unburdened, a stark contrast to the heaviness of your own heart. "Maybe I do expect too much from a man. But a girl can dream, can't she?"

Your thoughts spiral back to your own dreams, fragmented and shadowy as they are, filled with fleeting touches and whispered names that dissolve as you awaken. There's a haunting familiarity in those hallucinatory moments, a sense of belonging that you can't yet place. Perhaps, buried deep within the cobwebs of your memory, there lies an answer. They feel so real, yet so far away, making you wonder if even you kept secrets from these girls who you call friends.

You girls finish the laundry, hanging the linens on nearby branches and a line strung up between two trees. You’re surprised to see the day half gone, and while you are grateful for the passage of time, you wonder what else you could possibly do.

And as you walk past Susan, she sees you and eyes your skirt. “Just a minute, girl!”

You freeze, and brace yourself. From what the girls have told you, you prepare to be given another chore to do.

She rises from the table where she has been working on sewing a patch and gestures to your skirt. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, wearin’ clothes like that?”

You look down. You had forgotten that you cut it all up for the explosives. While it is the right explanation, it isn’t the easiest one. “I…erm…must have torn it.”

“I should say so! We need to get you something else to wear.”

You shake your head. “I don’t have any money. Or other clothes.”

Susan motions for you to follow her and she leads you to the back of Dutch’s tent. On a barrel, sits a box.

“This is the money box. Everyone pitches in money from jobs and such to take care of camp needs.”

“But this is for everyone.”

“You’ve come back from the dead and are in need of new clothes.” She opens the box without a qualm, takes out five dollars, and hands it to you. “I’d say that is a good reason.”

You hold the money in your hand. It isn’t the thirty dollars you left behind in Blackwater, but you figure you haven’t really been familiar with large sums. “Thank you, Miss Grimshaw.”

“I’ll have Strauss go to town with you. Since you’ve been back, he wants to talk about nothing but resuming business with you.”

You look up, your brows pinched. “Business?”

She nods. “Just get yourself ready and meet Strauss by the wagon. He will take you to Valentine.”

Your heart hitches. Valentine. Where it all started.

Tag Requests: @photo1030

Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated.

[no-thoughts-just-the-clouds]

My ranking of Nightmare Time episodes (and illegible ramblings about each bc im not normal about this)

1. Honey Queen- Nibbly and Wiggly fighting over Linda; IM THE LATTE HOTTIE WITH ALL THE CLOUT 🗣️🗣️🗣️; Paul randomly showing up is so funny though; roman sleep with one eye open i am coming for you, you leave our queen Linda alone; all of Linda's kids are named after bodies of water Brooke is her daughter head cannon is growing; villain couples wish they are Gerald and Linda; ah yes these four prepubescent boys *proceeds to show four grown men, two of which has facial hair*

2. Yellow Jacket- made me cry, comedy my butt; Sophia and Daniel they can never make me hate you; i will die for you Hannah; Lex is so me coded (i am an older sister and i have issues); Charles talking about Otho: "even the babies are the most dangerous animals so i built this self destruct device to keep him secure so there's no possible— *otho proceeds to escape* —oh my go-"; Joey as Ethan is kinda 👀, i am looking respectfully sir

3. Time Bastard- KEEP KEEP RUNNING AWAY YOOOOUUUU BASTARD TIME BASTARDDDDDDD 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥; Kim's voice>>>>>>; Tinky really said i will find you in every universe but in the worse way possible; imagine that the reason why pete considers steph the most important person in his life is because the other person he loves the most, his brother ted, is missing and even considered dead, leaving steph as the only person he cares for that is still alive; tinky symbolizes the cycling hell that Ted is stuck in, the labyrinth like halls of his office job alongside his inability to connect with any woman he meets, or just any person in general, aaaandd post

4. Abstinence Camp- VIRGINITY ROCKS 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥DON'T TOSS IT AWAY NEVER TOUCH ANYONE ANYONE NOT EVEN YOUR BABE, that was the best song in the entire series i am not accepting criticism; HE'S GOT THE STEPS THAT CRUMBLE HE'S GOT THE MIND OF A PSYCHO 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️, second best song in the show; i am fully convinced grace is the most powerful character besides the LiB in the hatchetverse, with becky being the second because she did defeat her in pitstop; Steph calm down girly 💀; Boy Jerry is one of those news reporters in hatchet town?????; im on lumber axe's side, i too would be very irritated if some horny teenagers decides to do the do in my own home

5. Killer Track- "oh right, he was watching the fireworks" SCREAMING WAILING SOBBING AND THROWING UP; Miss holloway deserves happiness; the upcoming holloduke break up episode is going to destroy me i just know it; Bryce's character designs>>>>>>>; if the LiB always asks for what the summoner treasures the most, then that means all miss holloway ever wanted was to be remembered; is the killer track connected to pokotho!????

6. Perky's Buds- i love you ziggy; ah yes nightmare time, the series of all time; farmer gives bird magical weed and ends up becoming a slave to the nest of nighthawks; the birds throwing up food down their throats vs the entirety of hey melissa, which is more disgusting?; Ezekiel is my favorite Joey character; emma finally gets her dream of a pot farm and it all immediately went up in flames (literally)

7. Watcher World- TRIP TO AN AMUSEMENT PARK GONE WRONG (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT); don't worry alice go on and join us at the "i have parental issues" club; poor snigglet; "Jeff are you drunk again" there goes the fourth wall; kudos to mariah that panic attack scene is well acted and accurate; im kinda shocked that sylvia isn't someone bill made up to spite his ex but alright; the final part of the fight scene between bill and alice will never leave my mind thank you; That one guy shouting out all of bill's insecurities while playing the high striker, like my man james and corey you outdid yourselves

8. Daddy- i did not expect the sherman young lore but alright; sheila young kinda 👀, am looking respectfully ma'am; sheila young please just one chance 🙏; MAN IN A HURRY NAME DROP LETSSSS GOOOO BARRY SWIFT; out of all of the deaths in NT frank's dog is the saddest, change my mind; behind every dirtbag (frank) in hatchetfield is an even bigger dirtbag (sheila & sherman)

9. Forever and Always- Paul 23 & Emmdroid my beloved; THE CONNECTION OF THIS EPISODE WITH TIME BASTARD THOUGH!???? LIKE STARKID YOU ATE; behind every girlboss (Emmdroid) is a malewife (Paul 23); RIP to the real paul and emma but these two clones deserve their weird, happy relationship

10. Hatchetfield Ape Man- "welcome to america, you tea taxing son of a b****"; correct me if I'm wrong but from what i remember none of the events that happened in this episode are connected to the lords in black, all of this was just produced from professor hidgens being unhinged; anything for working boys; "iT's ObViOuSlY a NaKeD mAn" 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️; WHAT IS UP WITH TED AND HENRY COMMITING WAR CRIMES TOGETHER AND ENDS WITH HENRY KILLING TED!???

11. Jane's a Car- G O T M Y F O O T O N T H E G A S; the way my jaw dropped when i found out tom and jafar have the same actor; that ending though; oh wow lore on emma's sister how cool, and then THAT scene happens; Becky barnes you beautiful gorgeous intelligent kind-hearted lady, i need to know the story behind the whole "climbing a tree" thing; the audio playing in the radio when the car crashed being connected to the LiB? These eldritch beings literally looked at these small town jerks and went- "ah yes, these are my favorite humans"

12. The Witch in the Web- MISS HOLLOWAY INTRODUCTION LET'S GOOOO 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️; i wish a very horrible evening to pamela foster; WILEY!?????? THE DAGGER ALSO SHOWING UP IN THE PITSTOP LIVESTREAM!??? I NEED MORE LORE ABOUT THAT DAGGER; Hannah's actress put her entire soul into the acting, goodness gracious.

[fuckingyrs]

The sound of a body throwing itself onto one of the infirmary cots echoed through the mostly empty room, followed closely behind with a dramatic, but melodic sigh. “Can I say something mean?” 

“Probably not in front of the baby.”

Will groaned, looking up from his pile of patient reports he had been sorting for the past… year. “I hardly think eleven still counts as being a baby.”

Lee, who had been refilling first aid kits for the past two hours, contemplated this for a moment. “Maybe, but that’s besides the point. I’m six years older than you. You’ll always be a baby.”

“I’m going to say something mean. Will, cover your ears.”

“I’m not covering my ears, Taylor. Unlike you, I’m working right now and I need my hands.”

“Oh,” Taylor dragged, a taunt evident in her voice, "someone's grumpy.”

“He’s mad I put him on infirmary duty during arts and crafts.”

“Will, you aren’t good at arts and crafts.” Lee slapped her arm. “And you like working in the infirmary, you are constantly taking my shifts. It’s why I love you.”

Lee slapped her arm again. “Taylor, what the heck.”

Taylor groaned, “Fuck. Just say fuck. I’m begging you.”

“That’s besides the point. I had it with Cecil. We were going to finish our board game.” Will turned to Lee, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You knew this.”

Lee let out a long-suffering sigh and Will almost felt bad for causing a fuss, but really, Lee brought this upon himself. “Taylor, stop pawning off your shifts to Will. Will, stop letting Taylor’s pawn off her shifts to you. Also: I’m sorry about arts and crafts. The last few days have been hectic and I needed your help. I’ll make sure to not schedule you over arts and crafts next week.”

“I’m going to be home next week! Mama is picking me up, remember?”

Lee had the decency to look ashamed when he said, “Heck. I forgot. I’m sorry, Will.”

Taylor got up from her self-designated cot and walked over to Will, ruffling his hair once she was close enough. “I’ll take over the rest of your shift, buddy. You go have fun.”

Will shook his head, “No, it’s okay. I’m already here. Arts and crafts is half-way done anyway. We wouldn’t be able to finish.”

“If you’re sure,” Taylor sighed as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and Will let out a cry of protest because he could feel the lipstick stain there. He tried rubbing it away with his fingers but by the look on Lee’s face and the snickers Taylor was making behind him, he only made it worse.

Lee graciously handed Will a wipe before glaring at their sister. “Taylor, what are you even doing here?”

“I think I made that pretty obvious when I threw myself onto a bed and stated I was gonna say something mean. I came to gossip.”

“You should be at archery right now.”

“Mike was being a piss-baby. He wouldn’t let Josh and I try to hit one another. What’s the point of being in advanced archery if you can’t shoot at your brother? Moving targets!”

“So you left?”

“Yep. I found Silena and she offered to do my nails before I came by.”

Lee pinched the bridge of his nose in a way that resembled an old man at the end of his rope. Will suppressed a giggle at his brother’s anguish as Lee said, “You can’t do that.”

“Do what? My nails?”

“Leave Michael like that.”

“Why? He’s not in charge of me.”

“But I am. And he’s my second in command, so yes he is.”

Taylor groaned, flopping back onto her cot. “One, he’s like three weeks older than me, unfair. And two, none of that is important right now. What is important is that our father was here and didn’t say hi to any of us. Who does that?”

“Our father, apparently.”

Taylor flipped Lee off, showing off her new manicure. It was baby pink, like her lipstick, with a little sun in the center. “He gives those kids a ride, none of them his, and has the audacity to leave before saying hi? Hell, Will over here has never met him. He has time to bring a group of kids to camp, but can’t spare a lousy minute to check in on us? And I can’t say this to Michael or he’ll claim I’m “on the other side”.” Taylor sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. Will had only seen this look on her face a few times before: every time Luke was mentioned. “I’m just tired of feeling abandoned and I’m sick of feeling like it’s bad to think that.”

Lee stepped towards her, a soft, “Tay–” passing through his lips, before she sat up and shook herself out of her stupor.

“Instead of saying hi, he just causes chaos and disappears! He brings Percy back, which is never a good sign. Thalia is driving the sun chariot, and crashes it! Oh, and he brought that new weird kid that keeps bombarding everyone with questions.”

Will saw through the change of topic, and Lee clearly had to as well, but he allowed it to happen. He slapped her on the arm for the third time, “He’s not weird. He’s, like, eight. The kid is just excited. You were excited about camp once upon a time.”

Taylor turned to Will, jerking her head at Lee, “I think he’s finally lost it. When have I ever been excited by anything ever?”

Will grinned, “Yesterday, you beat Madi at Josh’s song quiz and you danced around the cabin for ten minutes.”

Taylor gasped loud and dramatic, clutching at her chest as she fell back onto her cot, chestnut hair falling all over her face in her fall. “William! How dare you accuse me of such things!”

[birdbrainedboy]

I’m obsessed with this show and fear a hyperfixation anyways here are my thoughts on every character in the show

Edwin Paine: forever my favorite, even back before the show when I read the comics! I think it’s funny that basically every man in the show wants him? I’m intrigued by his character arc throughout the story regarding his sexuality as despite dying in 1916, he seems to have had time to slowly become more accepting of gay people (I’m guessing in part due to Charles, who is pansexual), to the point where there’s only mild internalized homophobia if at all, which just exhibits itself in him denying any possible feelings for Monty. I love how face-value and logical he is while still being a sweetheart

Charles Rowland: he has a pan flag pin on his jacket which confuses me bc can ghosts only wear clothes they would’ve worn when they were alive, or how do ghost clothes work? Because he died in 1989 and I’m near positive he didn’t wear that pin back there. Anyways I do love him but I wonder about some design choices, like the one earring (not sure why it just kinda annoys me). That was more a rant abt his design than his character, which I have nothing notable to say abt since I LOVE HIM he’s so real

Crystal Palace: sometimes she was a bit annoying the way she was trying way too hard to pry into everyone’s lives, but honestly that was just momentary annoyance since nothing could make me hate her. I love how her past was slowly revealed (as someone who already knew it from the comics) and how she came to terms with the person she used to be vs the person she is now. She’s so cool!

David the demon: honestly kind of caught me off guard at first bc the person I’m dating is named David but I actually enjoyed his character. LOVED when Crystal dealt with him in the end. He was very interesting

Niko Sasaki: I love Niko, but I have some problems with her character. First of all, I feel like ditsy anime-loving cutesy Asian girl with dyed hair is a weirdly common trope? But whatever my main issue is that it feels like characters who normalize the fetishization of gay men are so common. Like if Niko had been a guy obsessed with lesbian manga evb would be weirded out, so why is it different? If we ignore all of this tho I absolutely adore her and I’m actually praying she’s in the next season bc she was one of my favorites (esp her relationship w Edwin)

Jenny: She is so hot and cool and funny I’m in love with her

Esther: oh my god words cannot come close to describing how much I love her character. She felt powerless and weak in the past and now she’s become obsessed with making sure nobody has that power over her ever again. She was so fun and I loved her attitude! I’m sure she won’t show up next season, as she was the main antagonist of s1, and while I love her, I kind of hope she doesn’t since I think her arc was finished.

Monty: His personality was like 2020 “soft boy” who acts nice and dumb but is lowkey a manipulator. So obviously this kind of made me like ☠️ bc why is he acting like that… but I still love him to bits because he’s just a crow guys he didn’t ask to be human,, Anyways yeah his personality annoys me but also I love him so much so? It’s confusing. ITS COMPLICATED. I will cry if he’s not in s2

Kingham and Litty: I honestly thought they were annoying but I can’t lie they were so fucking funny. Every time they were on screen I laughed.

Cat King: oh my god. He is so camp. I love him. There’s honestly not much to say he is simply iconic. Love how he’s afraid to be alone so chases after other people, he’s so real AGHH I love him

Night Nurse: Ruth Connell the woman you are… 😍 she reminds me of Muriel from Good Omens, in a way, and I love her! I really hope we get to see more of her in relation to the guy in the fish, and see her get to better understand human emotions and why they choose to cling onto the human world rather than pass on!

[anxiousheart7]

*spoilers* Astarion’s story - analysis and thoughts

I’ve been thinking quite a lot on Astarion the last couple of weeks, and the journey I’ve been on with him. I’ve seen a lot of content about him.

I’ll start by saying this - I didn’t ascend him. I couldn’t. I did, however, watch the ascension on YouTube but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m going to explain why.

Here’s the TL:DR version, with my deeper dive below.

As Astarion gets his revenge in Cazador, his flurry of knives felt oddly satisfying to me. It was a release as grim and cathartic. That cry of pain and ending felt necessary for him. I came out of that palace knowing that it was ok and he’d be ok.

The ascension felt gratuitous. Watching him carve exactly what Cazador put him through should have been cathartic too, but it wasn’t. I just felt a shiver of cold. And that was the moment I knew it was the ‘bad’ ending.

Experiencing Astarion’s Journey - delving deeper

I don’t think I’ve ever quite experienced a character story like his before. Here’s someone who is quite clearly designed to draw you in via the usual routes. He’s attractive, he’s got the funny lines. He’s the rogue - a lot of D&D players’ favourite class. He quickly becomes indispensable.

At the start, his flirting was fun. Act 1 I think is supposed to be a light hearted toe in the water, so to speak. Right up until your first major choice with the goblin vs tiefling conflict. Then it becomes real. But until then you can spend copious amounts of time wandering and chatting to your new friends in camp while some of them (namely Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach and Astarion) go straight to ‘i want you’ territory. And you’ll gravitate to those that are ready to get hot and heavy because…video game sex.

There was such a focus on romancing your camp and you lean into that so heavily in act 1. Approval is all-important. And his approval is harder to get, so you try harder with your choices. You want this guy. Like really want him. He’s like ambrosia. And, if you’re not one of the 100k rejections toted in Larion’s infographic, you get him.

As a recovering people pleaser, I’m not going to lie, that was a hard concept to grasp. To make your choices based on who you were trying to impress is exactly the kind of behaviour I’ve been trying to step away from in real life. But hey, this is a game so I’ll be ok.

And then it starts…

Looking back, there’s this line that stood out ‘it felt like you weren’t all there’. Despite his insistence later, Astarion was very likely going to that place of dissociation that he talks about later on. And that’s sad, because as Tav you want this milestone to be special. You want them to fall in love with you. The reward for all your hard-earned approval hiking.

But Astarion masks. He masks well, but you can tell on Insight that it’s all an act. Even when you look closely, the ham fisted complements he throws at you reflects the 10 charisma he’s carrying around. He works as a lothario not because he’s an adept silver-tongued Casanova. It’s because he’s simply beautiful. People see him and want him. His looks mask what’s going on underneath. But then you look into his eyes and it’s right there, plain as day.

There’s so much more underneath. I have watched the scene over and over with the hammy chat up lines as he’s trying to convince you to sleep with him again (I got propositioned first before the tiefling party) and the more I watch, the more I believe that ‘I love you’ wasn’t an act. They wouldn’t have given you three brush off comment choices if it was. He meant that, and I don’t think he even realised he meant it until he found the words coming out of his mouth - as though he was daring himself to say it.

With Astarion, it’s all in the eyes.

And, as someone who has seen those eyes in the mirror on a pretty regular basis, I knew there and then until he started revealing his backstory - the scars, the master and all the rest, I knew this was going to hit very hard and this man was a deep well. He was so lost that he barely had any idea of who he was any more.

By the time you’re well into Act 2, you’re starting to get the gist of him. You learn about his sadness and sense of loss around his identity before he was turned. You learn about the scars. And you learn about Cazador. I got the sense that all of this exposition was almost like a therapy dump from him. Thoughts and feelings he’s wanted to express for decades but hasn’t had a soul to tell - or he’s been compelled not to by his master. Now he can get them out. He can voice how unfair and unjust it feels. The sarcasm, the cynicism, all a way of expressing how much pain he is in. But one thing he’s never lost is the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t been beaten down so much to believe that he is unworthy of better treatment. And that sense of self is what I believe has kept him going all this time. He knows it wasn’t his fault. He knows Cazador was a cruel, sadistic monster.

And I hugged him. Of course I hugged him. I defended his autonomy from the moonrise drow and I hugged him after. At this point I’d fallen as hard for him as he had for me. I cared for him. I couldn’t make any of those obviously awful choices with him. When the details of the ritual came up I felt a knot in my stomach. And sure enough every time we talked after that point he talked about taking that power and I thought ‘this will be rough’.

It reminded me of a lot of really bad experiences I’d had in the past. Boyfriends and friends who were clearly bad for me and I was bad for them. And yet, I needed to help this guy. This person who had nobody for so long. Who didn’t know what it felt like to have someone actually care about him.

I looked this as someone who has experienced trauma in their life. How would I feel. How have I felt? To be scared of so many things. To wonder why on earth would I do something nice for someone else when I’ve sat in alleys, starving and in pain while people just walk on by. No gods to answer my pleas for help. I’d be cynical and disapproving too. I’d have a warped sense of humour. I’d want to never feel that again. Of course he saw the one thing that could protect him and feel compelled to grasp it with both hands.

Astarion has conjured up feelings in me I thought were long gone.

Astarion’s finale

The images I’ve included in this post have been doing the rounds on tumblr and this hits so hard it hurts. Astarion’s journey ends in such as way that it’s meant to be hard.

If you’re a gamer that commodifies your characters as a series of stats or objectifies them based on their design, then ascend him. It doesn’t matter to you. And I’ve seen plenty of people on message boards and Facebook saying exactly that - “but he gets these powers and is so badass”. They’ve never seen past the facade. He was a jerk at the start of the game, a creepy flirt and a vampire ready to be staked. And that was it.

Every excessive power in this game has a major consequence that you have to live with. This choice I think is one of the biggest before the climax of the game.

The ascension pretty much erases him. It takes who he was and the healing that he’s done and throws it away, as if it never really mattered.

And to him he’s worth exactly what he thought he was to begin with. His self-worth is warped into superiority and his hunger and fear replaced with a hunger for power and dominance. He’s not free in this form. He just becomes a new kind of imprisoned. He’s placed in stasis forevermore. And this won’t last forever because as absolute power corrupts absolutely, it also falls. Just like Ozymandius, he’ll rise and collapse under his own grandiose. And he’ll take you with him if you let him.

That steamy scene before he turns you is basically exactly what the Larion writer is saying - you’ve not empathised or grown here. Have your sex scene and then enjoy your eternal enslavement with New Cazador. It’s a bad ending for you and Astarion. You get to be exactly what he was, no matter what pretty words he tried to convince you with - he’s still that 10 charisma trying to convince himself as much as you. He’s Act 1 Astarion with some nifty new powers. He will control you like a doll and yours will be the same half life his was. He’ll start with promises of being his right hand, but somewhere down the line you’ll do or say something and he’ll do to you what was done to him. It’s the ultimate narcissistic relationship.

If Astarion walks away, he’s him. Truly him. With purpose and a new path to walk. You can build a new life together with nothing holding you back. The trauma behind him, he can now walk a path of healing for himself and learn who he is. It makes me feel hopeful and joyful that he gets a second chance.

And that’s where I’m at. My ideal ending is for them both to go off together searching for a cure for his vampirism. Whether it’s possible, who knows - on writing this I’m still to finish my first run of the game. But at least there’s that glimmer of hope in that ending.

I think Astarion is beautiful. There’s a reason half the internet is madly in love with him right now. But if you let yourself, he becomes more than a nice body and a pretty face. His complexity opens up like a puzzle box and you feel the satisfaction of a truly beautiful arc come to its climax. He’s a beautifully written and crafted character and I’m so glad to have experienced his story.

I could say so much more…but it’s long enough as it is. Thanks for reading x

[lazyalani]

| Itoshi Sae × [GN!Reader]

| Moments Like This

| Fluff, lots of fluff, short, not proofread, Soft Sae ♥

| Summary: You and Sae lay down on a picnic blanket, thinking about each other.

| Blue Lock Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

You opened your eyes, feeling someone laying down beside you on the picnic blanket.

Sae brushed a hair of your forehead with a finger. "Sleepy?"

You nodded, "A little." You drew circles on his chest.

He hummed. "Want to go back inside?" He asked, staring at your sleepy eyes peeking under your lashes.

You looked back to the tent you both had set up and up to the sky filled with beautiful galaxy colors and bright stars. "Hm, not yet. I wanna stargaze a little longer."

"Hey," You looked back at him, hearing his call.

Sae leaned down a bit and brought his lips to yours, supporting your neck upwards with his left hand.

They're warm, he thought. He grips your waist and settles you laying on him. You laid your head on his chest, fiddling with the ring on his necklace, matching the one on your own.

Your heart warms once more at the sight of it, the symbol of your love. The symbol of his promise. A promise of your future together. He bought matching rings for your birthday a year before.

"Rings.... in a necklace?" You blinked. "Not that I'm complaining, but, why put them in a form of necklaces this time? Is it special because it's my birthday?"

Your boyfriend has given you 8 matching rings, him having the pair of the ones you have, during the years you've been together. All of them have different designs, but none of them were put as necklaces or bracelets.

He makes you hold your hair on one side and put the necklace with the Initial of 'S' on your neck. "That's one of the two reasons." He says.

"What's the other?"

He kisses your nape and you shiver, allowing him to lead you to bed and cuddle, resting you head under his chin. "It was a random thought at first, but I did it anyway. My favorite number is 10, I want to you to have 10 rings from me."

I laughed and booped his nose with your finger. "You're so random sometimes, I love it." He shooked his head and flicked your forehead.

"I also wanted to be romantic. I think I'm no good with words, but my actions could make up for it." He adds.

You laughed more. "You think? Honey, you could make the whole world hate you with just a few words." You teased.

"Should I take the ring back?"

"You wouldn't..."

"Try me."

You narrowed your eyes and rolled them, kissing his cheek. "But really, what's the main reason these rings are special?"

He kissed your forehead. "Because this is the last time I'll give you a ring as my girlfriend."

"Oh? When would be the other two, then?" You had an idea, but you wanted to hear it directly from him.

"The next one would be when I finally ask you to marry me, and the other would be in the church, infront of our friends and families." He says and kisses you.

You smile into the kiss. "I'll be looking forward to that."

Sae stares at your sleeping face, caressing your cheek with his free hand, the other one supporting your back.

You had fallen asleep in deep though, and Sae decided to stay a bit more outside and feel the scenery.

Sae feels comfortable with you, but he feels at peace when he's alone with you. He just got back from Spain and filed for a vacation with you, bringing you for a camping in a mountain where he learned the stars and sky would be seen clearly, just how you like it.

To Sae, you are peace itself. With you, he doesn't hear constant loudness that makes him irritated. With you, he doesn't have to talk to someone he doesn't like. With you, he doesn't have to pretend. With you, he can rest. With you, it's home.

Just having you in his arms is relaxing and calming. The pent up stress in his nerves are releasing as he breathes in the sight of you and your touch.

He carries you carefully back into the tent when he decides to sleep and kisses your forehead for goodnight. Most people say Sae is a hard man to please, that he probably isn't happy when it's not football, but then why is he so pleased beside you right now?

Moments like this make Sae fall even more.

[darligvane]

Gage headcanons

I have these all written down in a google doc (plus way more) so I figured I might as well throw some here now that I'm getting more comfortable using tumblr lol. I'm very open to discussion about these! I might post more in the future if someone finds it interesting.

CW for: Minor mentions of addiction and some general trauma stuff. Nothing too bad I don't think but don't hold me to that.

A lot of these mention The Harvester by the way, sorry. Lore makes my brain itch.

● While he is a part of a minority of raiders who can actually read and write‐ (as evidenced by him leaving messages to Colter on his terminal) -he is dyslexic. It takes him a while to write things out coherently, and reading anything more than a few short sentences is often frustrating.

● ^ because of this, he prefers / genuinely enjoys comic books. They're light on reading and he can usually tell whats going on even without dialogue. He had a small collection of comic books back when he lived with The Harvester, and still gets kind of pissed he never got those back.

• Regarding comics, his least favorite character is the Silver Shroud. He just pisses him off.

● His eyepatch being so large is actually functional! (Somewhat) I like to think he lost his eye by getting shot in the face with a plasma round, which corroded and destroyed a large area of skin around his eye and down his cheek. So the large metal plating on his eyepatch covers the large scar.

● He actually lost his eye when he first joined The Harvesters gang when he was younger. One of Harvests gang members pulled the trigger on him when he initially approached them, thinking he had ill intentions. It sucked- but hey, at least they let him in.

● He made his own cage armor and designed it particularly around his needs rather than protection. He uses the cage to hold tools, parts, a rag, etc. while he works on things like Colters power armor or other mechanical things he fiddled with. Definitely doesn't make him very bulletproof, but following the boss around keeps him away from most combat situations anyway.

● Colter had a tendency to use Gages armor like a big handle to drag him around a lot, which he didn't particularly enjoy.

● His favorite colour is yellow, which is why his cage armor is the colour it is. He painted it himself :')

● Has the most horrific trust issues in all of mankind. (Thanks for betraying him Harvest, he will absolutely not recover from that.) He won't eat anything he doesn't see prepared himself, won't set down his drink unless he's alone, he can't sleep around other people, etc. When Colter dies and the new Overboss takes over, he doesn't even tell them where he sleeps until he trusts them entirely. He'll just dissappear at night unless you call out for him.

● These trust issues leak into his behaviors during relationships also. Down to the more simple things. He prefers to hug his partner from behind or be big spoon, he prepares food for them both, takes the night guard when camping, etc. Anything that puts him in the more advantageous position, even if its subconscious.

● The Harvester haunts him. He still sees and hears him in the shadows or corners after however many years its been. Has nightmares of him coming back and finally finishing the job, killing him. Feels the cold metal of a scythe against his throat when it isn't there... its endless. Even something as common as the sounds of distant gunfire make him paranoid, since it reminds him of the betrayal. Absolutely ruined him.

● Has tattoos inspired by / centered around The Harvesters. Covers them with his armor though. Hes got some trauma to unpack man, idk. (Should I do a tattoo tour for him?)

● One of the reasons he hates chems is from a previous addiction. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he made a few of his worst life decisions on chems and it just put a bad taste in his mouth. He'd prefer it if his Overboss / partner was in a rational state of mind, thank you.

● He is surprisingly good with animals for the most part. Particularly cats. Does the old man / dad thing where he says he doesn't like them or calls them mean names while secretly petting them or letting them hop in his lap when he's alone.

● Not usually a big fan of the more "exotic" wasteland animals though. Totally got jumpy one day and shot a Pack molerat on accident.

Thats probably enough for now. I'm happy to answer questions or expand on these more if asked, and I'll probably share more in the future. (Maybe some 18+ ones too? We'll see.)

[savvthedate]

The Quarry x Stray kids Au

based on the game 'the quarry', I highly recommend it, It's such a cool concept and story. Just an intro will be a full story.

Characters

Chan

• Born to be the cool band teacher, forced to be the Supervisor and organizer of the Jype Quarry and summer camp

• a personal favorite of the camps owner

• without a doubt going to be the most missed counselor after summer is over

Lee know

• head of cooking class and helps out in the kitchen

• the kids are both scared of him and love to mess with him

• fist day of camp, kids locked him in his cabin (he almost quit and went home)

• kids aren't to big on his cooking class but they do enjoy eating

• tbh summer camp wasn't all that exciting to him

• scared to death of the possibility of bears in the camp

• camp mascot, Maize the cat, sleeps In his cabin

Changbin

• gym instructor, in charge of most camp activities

• High energy and always encouraging kids to push the selves

• first day of the job he was almost registered as a camper

• One of the counselors the kids were scared of the first day but quickly became the goofy fan favorite

• for some reason he was never in his cabin at night, if he wasn't doing anything with the other counselors he was just doing random things

Hyunjin

• Art teacher

• mainly does small crafts like pinecone bird houses, etc

• does majority of the designs for camp

• luckily for him he only actually has to do work once a week

• the first choice for campers to come to if they need something

• extremely trustworthy, funny, but still strict

• next to changbin, he's the only counselor the kids listen to

Han

• in charge of camp announcements, music, technical support

• practically hides from the kids

• they always find him though

• got in trouble one time for leaving his radio hut unlocked and someone stole the movie projector

• cried his first week at camp, mainly because he was supposed to aid Lee knows cooking class but got overwhelmed, so Chan moved him to announcements and radio duty so he won't actually have to interact with kids

Felix

• is he even a counselor tbh?

• just showed up a week late for the job and was assigned to be a fill in and assistant to anyone who needed him

• kinda just hangs around, he's practically one of the campers

• most hardest part of his summer was losing a kid he was in charge of on one of changbins hikes

• he promised to never join that class again

Seungmin

• supervisors assistant

• takes his job seriously half the time

• the only time he doesn't is when a camper says he's not really necessary

• just look at him wrong and he's like 'im not doing this anymore just to get disrespected'

• honestly just the embodiment of 'old man yells at cloud'

• honestly he was ready to go home after the first two weeks, but then realized he lived really far away

• longest 2 months of his life and he won't do it again

Jeongin

• head swim couch, main life guard when it's a camp beach day

• he had signed up to be the art teacher but since the position was filled he settled for swimming

• always has at least 3 assistants with him, there is no one way he's teaching all those kids by himself

• tbh wishes he showed up late like Felix to get a lucky job

• the campers won't let him breathe. Always makes fun of him and Lee know

• everyone feels bad for him because he always has the most complaints from parents, he really doesn't understand what he did wrong honestly