#Boor is not better but it stayed like that

[nelkcats]

The Fenton "Boor"

The Fentons have always been famous for their legal sale of weapons, usually based on ectoplasm and used to hunt ghosts. That's where they got most of their funds, whether it was to finance new inventions, their laboratory, or their children's education.

The problem began when they found out that Phantom was their son. Because of that revelation they accepted that they couldn't continue on the "weapon creator" path, how could they continue to create and sell weapons that help hunt down their baby? Even if they didn't trust all the ghosts Danny changed their perspective of the Infinite Realms and they were more or less at peace.

That is why they debated for hours on what to do to make money again, until they noticed something curious: Most of the people in Amity couldn't get drunk. It was a silly thing to focus on, but thanks to a quick investigation they noticed that after the portal opened no one had made it.

That's the reason they created a new brand of beer "Boor", which affected both ghosts and humans contaminated with ectoplasm. Their business quickly became a success and the beer was exported elsewhere (with many care and prevention labels).

When Jason Todd noticed "Boor" on the shelf at the bar he frequented, he snorted. The beer had a small ghost on the bottle, which caught his attention, he ordered it out of curiosity and when the waiter told him that the brand claimed "the product was capable of making even the dead drunk" Jason almost laughed.

Big was his surprise the next day when he woke up on one of Gotham's rooftops with a severe hangover. He had at least 8 missed calls from Nightwing and a bottle with a cartoon ghost in his hand.

[jjkeremika]

Planted a garden full of lavender and called it home

description: eren helps out at his parents’ clinic. mikasa brings her sick mother to the clinic one day.

pairing: eren jaeger x mikasa ackerman, eremika (aot/snk)

disclaimer/warning(s)?: lowercase; alternate universe; third person but moreso from eren's pov; grisha and carla run a medical clinic; mikasa’s mother is sick; profanity

inspiration: “They say lavender softens anxiety / and i wonder whether i can plant a garden / so dense in your mind / that the knots in your chest unravel / and never tighten again” - jasmin kaur

it was a slow day—a very, very slow day. usually a few patients trickled in throughout, some for walk-in ailments and injuries and others for scheduled appointments, but they must’ve cured everyone yesterday considering how empty it was today.

eren rolled his eyes and groaned from boredom, standing from the uncomfortable chair and stretching. “this is soo booring,” he exhaled to the empty room, rubbing at his eyes, talking to himself to stay awake.

he debated asking his mother if he could leave for the day, or asking his father if he could take his lunch break early. ultimately, he decided against it. boredom was infinitely better than ear-aching lectures on responsibility and commitment and yada yada... he usually stopped listening by that point.

eren left the office and entered the bathroom, splashing some water on his hands and face to wake him up, stimulate his brain a little. he checked his hair in the mirror before leaving and headed straight to the record player in the waiting area.

the record player was ancient, given to him by his father who got it from his father’s father, or something like that (he wasn’t really listening at the time); which meant it was old. Old old; which meant it was even more satisfying when eren and armin finally restored it, having spent months working with armin’s grandfather and asking countless questions to the sick engineers in the waiting room.

his mood lifted as he searched through the old records, pausing to see if any patients had dropped off any unwanted vinyls. just one: “The Founder and Found? the hell is that?” eren flipped to the back of the protective sleeve, scanning the list of songs. “looming giants… us against the world… a rumbling sea separates you and me… pigs released? what the fuck are these songs?” he chortled when he asked the question to himself, finding the record bizarre and amusing.

he tucked the record under his arm. “damn, i have to show this to armin late—oh, shit.” eren heard light voices from outside the glass and stood up, rushing back to the desk right as he heard the door crack open.

he sat down and placed the record to the side, was logging back into his computer when the voices became clearer and louder.

“honestly, miki, im healing,” one woman managed out through interspersed coughs, her arm wrapped around the arm of the person eren assumed to be ‘miki.’ “i’ll be better soon.”

“yes, mum, you will,” the younger woman responded plainly, trying to lead her mother to the chair, “because the doctor is going to heal you.” eren finally looked over and his stomach leapt. “now, i’m going to sign you in, okay?”

“honey, no,” the woman tried to grab her daughter’s arm, but she easily brushed it off and walked towards eren.

“good morning,” she greeted nonchalantly, out of formality more than anything else, “this is dr jaeger’s clinic, right?”

eren didn’t answer. he stared at her silently, admiring her features and noticing that she didn’t smile.

she lifted her eyebrow in confusion, opened her mouth like she was going to say something, before closing it and peaking around her.

a light heat rushed through him and he became increasingly aware of his own self. he sat upright and smiled. “i, uh, sorry, i…” he cleared his throat, ignoring that his insides were flipping with embarrassment at his stutter, “yes, this is dr jaeger’s clinic. are you a new patient here?” she had to be; he's never seen her before.

“kind of?” she replied, “my mother was a patient of his before he moved here.” eren glanced to her mother then back to her.

“i, uh, we really only have, um,” he closed his eyes and took a breath, telling himself to get it together. why was he so awkward today? he continued, “we only have patient files from after the relocation.” eren found it easier to focus on the sick mother than the woman in front of him, “i can register her easily right now if—”

the pretty woman interrupted, and eren felt his stomach flip, “if you could just tell him the name ackerman, he’ll know who that is.”

eren noticed that his toes were clenching and digging into his shoes a little. he stopped himself before he bit his cheek.

the thing is, eren’s an independent guy. he likes to make his own decisions, to be free from control; often got into some trouble academically and socially because of it. and so, naturally, the only thing eren hated more than being interrupted, was people telling him what to do.

he stood up from his chair and met the younger woman’s fierce stare, felt a light tingle down his spine. “yeah, i’ll go tell him now,” he told her before exiting the office to the medical area, only now noticing his racing heart beat.

maybe pretty women who don’t smile can tell him what to do.

****************

he brought the vinyl to armin's house after he left the clinic, his mind still hung up on the nameless girl with an ill mother from this morning.

armin was outside helping his grandfather harvest their garden when eren mindlessly arrived, lost in thoughts about why this random person he'd never met before made him so nervous, why he cared so much about whether she smiled at him or not. armin waved and called out eren's name and eren snapped back to reality.

"hey," he casually greeted as armin walked to the fence, "check out this record." armin's lips flattened into a straight line. always straight to the point.

armin took the record from him as he waved to armin's grandfather from across the yard. as he glanced it over, eren debated telling his friend about the patient's daughter.

he laughed while reading some of the names. "weird. is that from the clinic?" eren nodded. "did you want to come in and listen to it?" armin handed the record back and pointed over his shoulder to his house.

eren shook his hand to refuse the vinyl. "nah, i have to get home. my dad's showing me some of his old medical notes," eren explained, "thanks, though."

they bid farewell and turned around. a tiny smile formed on eren's face as the image of the pretty girl reappeared in his head and his abdomen fluttered. eren slowed to a stop. he could turn around right now and just ask if armin had ever felt like that before, if he'd understand, if he'd know what it means.

"everyone makes armin nervous," he muttered to himself and walked home.

****************

eren yawned deeply as he unlocked the clinic doors and turned the overhead lights on. grisha asked him late last night if he could open before sunrise with him the next morning for an important patient. eren had checked the clock (midnight, go figure), sighed and nodded in agreement, and decided to go to bed.

he was a little annoyed, because, well, how was he supposed to say no to that?

he was scrolling on his phone, trying to keep himself awake because he’d disliked the taste of teas since he was young, when he perked up to the noise of the bell ring as the door opened.

the bell was immediately drowned out by a cough, and he recognized the older woman as the same one from yesterday even with the face mask.

a lump formed in his throat when his eyes trailed to the young woman next to her.

“good,” cough, “morn—” cough.

“mum, it’s okay,” the raven-haired woman soothed, very gently rubbing her mother’s back, “don’t strain yourself.” he couldn't explain the jump in his heart rate.

eren opened his mouth to greet them, was about to stand to help, when grisha entered from the back room, having immediately heard the chatter. "mikasa, you can bring her right in,” he borderline ordered, stepping to the side and holding the door open.

mikasa and her mother slowly made their way to the patient room, where dr jaeger and her mother then shooed her back to the waiting area for privacy.

“Keep my son company,” grisha told her, sharply punctuated by the door closing.

mikasa stood awkwardly and gazed around the hallway, then walked through the open office door. eren jumped in his seat at her sudden arrival.

“may i sit here?” the pretty girl asked, to which eren immediately shook his head and said, “no.”

“oh, okay, i’ll go wait out there,” she replied, looking like it didn't bother her either way.

“wait, wait, no, sorry, yeah, you can,” he followed sheepishly, reaching his hand out like he were going to stop her from leaving before pulling it back in confusion at the brazen, odd action, “i thought you were going to ask if i minded,” he explained, feeling his stomach drop and his temperature flare, “which i don’t.”

she nodded a couple times curiously, but still sat down. “you’re dr jaeger’s son?” she asked so firmly that eren wondered if it was a question or a statement. he wondered if he should wait for her to continue.

he nodded anyway, just in case. “yeah.” he shifted in the chair. he mentally chastised himself for losing his composure. he's eren fucking jaeger. he doesn't get nervous. “have been my whole life,” he joked, chuckling awkwardly before stopping once he noticed her lips didn’t waver. she didn’t say anything. he looked to his lap. “i, um—”

“how long have you been working with him?” she brushed the hair off her shoulder and leaned into the chair, crossing her arms and resting one thigh over the other.

he was slightly taken aback by the sudden question, and felt his stomach flutter at her attention on him. and then his eyes were trailing from the floor, up her legs restricted in fitted jeans to her shapely hips to her tight shirt and rounded shoulders and lick-able collarbones an--wait, what?

"are you okay?" mikasa interrupted his onslaught of thoughts, one eyebrow lifted, no emotion in her eyes. his gaze lingered on her collarbones before blushing and sitting upright.

"yeah, yeah, sorry," he apologized, rubbing his forehead, "it's early," he chuckled, which was not reciprocated. she nodded slowly. "ive been here since the relocation," he answered, returning to the conversation. "how long have you known my father?"

“he used to travel to us every couple months. my mother’s been sick for a while now,” she answered, her shoulders dropping slightly.

he felt the urge to reach out and offer his hand, provide some form of comfort. “so, your names mikasa, right?” he changed the subject instead. she nodded. pretty name. “i’m eren.” he gave her a tiny wave. pretty girl.

“it’s nice to meet you, eren.” the smile spread on his face before he could stop it. the flutter demanded his attention. he never particularly cared for his name, but he liked the way it sounded on her tongue.

“it’s nice to meet you, too, mikasa,” he smoothly replied, beaming internally at the slight curve at the edge of her lips.

***************

the next day, after the clinic closed, grisha and carla asked eren to join them to a house call, citing something about how he should be there to learn and they could use an extra hand. he doesn’t know. he wasn’t really listening. it’s not like he had anything else to do anyway.

what they didn’t tell him was how far away and how long this house call was. a two hour train ride into the city, a bus to a different district, a thirty minute walk.

it was when the door opened at the small house that he understood why they’d come this way.

mikasa welcomed them inside and informed grisha and carla of her mother’s status and location. the two set off immediately, like they’d been here before, leaving mikasa alone with eren.

he glanced over at her, refrained from looking below her chin. “hey, mikasa,” he said with a smile and a small wave.

“hi, eren,” she replied casually, emotionless.

he bit his lip and curled his toes to contain the giddy feeling rumbling through his chest at the sound of his name. “do you always go so far to come to the clinic?” he asked to keep her talking.

she nodded. “yes. we hadn’t seen dr jaeger since the relocation because of that, but then she got worse, and other doctors didn’t know what to do, so…” she trailed off, but the point was clear.

she glanced down, and he noticed her hand shaking when he followed her gaze, noticed her trying to soothe it with another shaky hand, hiding it under her cardigan.

eren suddenly remembered that: years and years ago, back when his father came home late and left early, talked with carla every evening about a woman who was miraculously hanging on. eren thought they'd moved because this patient had once improved.

yet her daughter now sat detached and fractured in front of him, and her mother sat dying in the other room.

eren’s stomach dropped like a feather tied to boulders. he wasn’t so great at this part, empathizing with and calming people when they were upset. he usually said the wrong things, and in the office he recited a script his mother created for consoling families of terminally ill patients.

but instead he thought of holding her hand or rubbing her arm, excusing the action by offering it to comfort her. instead, it was his turn to ask her: “are you okay?”

she didn’t reply, didn’t move, didn’t seem like she was even breathing. he took a step forward.

and she chortled, a fleeting smile and cut-off symphony, then nodded and dabbed at her eyes. which eren didn’t really get because he didn’t understand what was funny but he didn’t really care because she smiled and he’d never felt so captivated by a smile before.

“i’m okay,” she answered, still smiling, still looking at him, “thanks, eren.”

he felt warm and bubbly inside, like the heat was causing the water in his body to boil and evaporate.

he finally understood the intent behind the phrase when he said, “my pleasure,” because, for once, he meant it.

****************

grisha and eren returned to the ackerman house every day for a few days after that. grisha allowed eren to observe the tests and treatment administrations, explained the science and intricate mechanics behind each method and instrument, and eren finally understood why mikasa was forced out of the room each time.

eren stepped out and spoke with mikasa most days, trying to make her laugh, to take her mind away from the anxieties quaking her body.

the visits continued until grisha made the final call to admit her to the hospital. mikasa argued against it, her mother weakly chiming in, but ultimately, dr jaeger convinced them both it was for the best. carla referred mikasa to therapists and support groups, and everyone went home.

once she was admitted, eren didn’t see mikasa anymore. the trip there and back was long, and grisha received updates on patient status from correspondence with the hospital. so without the excuse of a sick patient, there wasn’t much reason to go to her house.

armin stopped by the clinic to help check patients in during one of the busier days. during one of the lulls around lunch, when eren convinced armin to do his own job so he could mess around with the vinyls, mikasa walked in.

eren spotted someone walking towards him from the corner of his eye, and a record slipped from the stack he was holding as soon as he recognized her.

he scrambled to catch it, and he did, flattened between his wrist and his thigh, at the sacrifice of the entire stack falling to the floor.

“mikasa, hey,” he greeted first, standing upright and waving the one record in his hand. he could feel the heat on his cheeks, but her breezy laugh massaged out the breath he held.

“hi, eren,” she said with a teeny smile, she looked down at the vinyls scattered around their feet, moved like she was about the crouch to arrange them.

"don't, uh. i'll take care of... it," eren followed sheepishly, stepping around the vinyls, closer to her. "what are you doing here? n-not that i mind, of course." eren could see armin hiding his face behind his hand. he felt more nervous with armin watching.

but eren relaxed a little when she giggled. “i won’t take up too much of your time. i just wanted to give you this.” he was so distracted by her that he didn’t even notice the plant in her hands. “i appreciate what your family did for mine.”

eren glanced down at the plant she’d placed into his palms. his heart rate picked up and his stomach flipped. she came all the way here for this? for him?

“i know it’s not much, but… we own a plant shop, so…” she trailed off and looked to the ground, her eyes dull, and he wondered if he should put the record and plant down and just hold her.

“how is she?” he asked, not moving. a diversion from the real question he wanted to ask.

“she’s… alive,” a quiet mumble, so quiet the noise of the other patients almost drowned it out. he noticed her hand shaking. he put the plant and vinyl down on an empty chair.

he was about to reach his hand out, to ask if she wanted company, to ask if she had someone to turn to. she spoke before he could. “anyway, i appreciate everything.”

and she turned around, halfheartedly waved goodbye and headed for the door. eren’s heart raced, his stomach dropped, he felt a mild panic. he didn’t want her to leave. she’d never come back. she came all the way to the clinic. alone.

“wait!” he exclaimed louder than intended, garnering the attention of everyone in the room. he lowered his voice, “i, uh,” he stepped after her, and she stopped once he spoke, “i don’t know how to take care of plants.” she stared at him blankly, if not sadly. a tainted reminder of when they first met. a blood stain on all the progress they’d made.

but his heart still raced the same. “can i call you?”

*****************

he called her that night, asking what kind of sunlight and water and nutrients it needed, asking multiple times what kind of plant it was and if she could spell it out for him.

there was never any annoyance or irritation in her voice, but he'd asked so many times that she eventually told him different answers to mess with him, to the point that he forgot the real ones.

he called mikasa again the next night, explaining that he was confused and forgot everything she’d told him. “do you have any more questions?”

his heart fluttered and his stomach dropped. he didn’t want this to end yet. “i, um, don’t have a watering can. or soil. or nutrients. or a pot, so… uh, can i come to your store sometime?”

he could only hear her soft steady breathing, and he could vividly picture her pretty face, staring at him with that newly found sparkle in her eyes, that budding smile on her lips.

“yeah,” she answered delicately, “that would be okay.”

*********************

eren had practically begged his older brother to cover his shift at the clinic. it took a lot of begging, but zeke finally relented.

zeke had no interest in following their father’s footsteps into medicine and made that explicitly clear to everyone that he would be living with his mother and baking breads and pastries instead. so, eren wagered one shift in exchange for buying three breads and four pastries, and giving zeke the shift’s earnings. he didn’t care what he had to do; he just needed it covered.

it was just past sunrise when he set out, and he carried one of the breads and two pastries to the location mikasa had told him about.

the long journey was more tumultuous in the early morning, the train and bus rides providing ample time and opportunity to sleep.

eren noticed her instantly when he was walking down the street. she was watering the plants outside the shop, an elephant-shaped watering can in her hands, when he approached with a meek smile.

“mikasa,” he started when he was still a few feet away, “hi.” he waved despite the now cold bags in his hands.

she glanced up and greeted him with a nod, “eren.” she stopped watering the plants, then gestured for him to follow her. he did wordlessly, admiring the vibrant green leaves and multicolored flowers on the tables and floors and walls.

he stood awkwardly near the counter as she momentarily disappeared in the back. he observed the small plant in the cat pot near the register, reached out and smiled at the soft, gentle texture of the leaves, when the handles of the resusable bag slid from his wrist to his elbow and he yanked his arm back, pulling the plant and ripping the leaf with it.

the plant and pot fell to the ground, soil and decorative rocks scattering across the ground. “oh, shit,” eren whispered frantically, rushing to place the bags on the tabletop and ducking down to brush up the debris, to put the displaced plant back into its home.

he noticed her peering over the counter. “i, uh, i didn’t mean to…” he stood up, the messy plant tucked back into the plastic liner and back into the thankfully unbroken pot.

he felt the uncomfortable heat flooding his abdomen. he felt his usually rigid abs softening into nervous gelatin as she stared at him blankly. he felt embarrassed at how clumsy he was around her, which was only exacerbated when he thought back to armin’s playful teasing after the record incident.

she chuckled softly as he placed it on the counter. “that’s okay. i do it all the time,” she confided, pointing towards the pile of dirt in the corner of the room, swept under one of the displays. he exhaled airily, smiling, relieved. she watched him delicately place the torn leaf next to the bags. “what are these?” she asked, lightly touching the top.

“o-oh, they’re for you,” he answered sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck, “my brother owns a bakery. i thought since i was coming so early, we could…” he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably, “you’ll enjoy it. he’s really good.”

she relaxed into the chair. “thanks, eren.” she stared at him softly and raised an eyebrow. “are you here for a pot?”

he wiped his hand against his jeans. “i, uh.” no. “yes.” he could feel beads of sweat starting to form on his hairline, and he hoped they wouldn’t roll down.

she stood up, flattening out the wrinkles in her apron with her palms. “you’re welcome to look around, but,” she explained as she wandered around the counter, walked right by him. she smelled nice, like pink roses and prosecco. “i picked out two nice pots that are about its size, held them in case you wanted one.” she held the two small pots in her hands.

one various shades of green, an ombré of dark to light in a cascading pattern that seamlessly transitioned under his stare. the other bursts of yellow and orange and red, hot colors searing through the clay and burning into the edges, overlayed with a distinct smell of light grey smoke licking up the sides.

mikasa held up the fiery pot higher than the other. “carla told me you like camping, and i’ve never been, but when i was young and the shop was slow, my father and i huddled around pots like this one and pretended we were around campfire.”

eren’s heart dropped into his stomach. he wondered where her father was now, after all this time, during these long and difficult weeks; his absence turning the night bleaker and darker.

she turned her gaze to the grassy pot, her eyes roaming the gradient monochrome mosaic. “this one, just… reminds me of you.” she glanced up at him, and she felt warm when she realized he was already looking to her.

his heart swelled and his chest hurt. she’d picked them out for him? with more of a reason than it’s the size of the liner? how was he even supposed to choose one? she’d put thought into both.

she’d put thought into him.

“maybe it’s because of your eyes or that shirt you always wear,” she joked awkwardly, smiling faintly and minutely, avoiding eye contact, to take his fixated attention off her. did she say something wrong?

eren’s throat sucked his mouth dry, and his tongue lost all speaking mobility. it hung flat in his mouth, too heavy to move but too light to let go. he lost his mind at her meek, fleeting smile. a smile too pristine to be faltering so soon.

“or maybe it was the record you were holding when i brought the plant,” she added quietly, squinting at the green pot like it would restore her memory, regurgitate her line of thinking when she picked it out of the rest.

she finally returned his eye contact, pulling him out of his blatant adoration. “you don’t have to pick either,” she continued, rambling from the unsettling rumble in her gut, the foreign itching under her skin, “there’s many more here that you might like.”

she went to put the two hand-selected pots down when eren stepped forward, held his arms out to stop her movement. “no! i, ah, i do want those ones.” he held his hands out to take them from her. “i’d… actually like both, if that’s okay.” she looked at him with a light surprise, her eyes and mouth wide and open.

he liked the pink blush that graced her cheeks. “o-oh. a-are you sure?” she furrowed her eyebrows, dropped her gaze. “you only have the only plant…”

he felt the heat from her charcoal eyes set his meadows on fire. he felt his heart beat speed up and his vessels dilate.

eren stepped closer. he lifted his forearms, delicately covered her hands as they cupped the pots.

“i want to buy your favorite plant too,” he said softly, his longer fingers curling over hers, intertwining lightly with hers.

[tiralja]

Shinji has regrets

Shinji has regrets.

Ichigo hadn't known it, hadn't been there when he'd said it, but when the visored stepped up for the battle against Aizen he'd made sure to tell the soutaicho that they where not there for them.

"We are enemies of Aizen, and allies of Ichigo."

Allies of Ichigo. He had belived that. Truly had thought that.

But then Aizen had been beaten and Ichigo had lost his powers and they had been pardoned and finally allowed back home.

Why had he ever though it would be a good idea?

Why had any of them?

Every single visored had taken the hook and stepped right back into Seireitei to become parts of the machine that they all knew had already thrown them out once.

Maybe they thought Ichigo would fare better with his family? Away from all the powerful nonsense spirits dragged him into? Maybe they they really thought it wasn't a big deal? After all Ichigo already had many friends in soul society so it shouldn't really matter if they moved there and had their places back.

Maybe they were just so tired of having to hide away from the place and people they had spent centuries calling home? Blinded by the hope of getting it all back even in some small way.

The soutaitcho had asked him if they were now their allies and he had answered a resounding "No" and as soon as they were allowed back in not a sinle one of them stayed out of Soul Society. Stayed with Ichigo.

Allied with Ichigo his ass.

Once exiled twice shy was something they couldn't avoid noticing.

While every single one of them had returned to Soul Society to take their places as captains and liutenants not one of them could slot back into place as easy as they had hoped.

Gotei 13 is an eclectic bunch full of strong personalities and even stronger hierarchies and rules and after a hundred years spent away they grate on his every nerve.

While they had been in exile they had been banned from soul society, true, but they had also been kept away from the strict regulations and adherence to rules that gotei members seem to obey almost religiously, even if they had seemed to loosen up a little after Ichigo's first influential break into their fortress.

Ichigo had made many influential friends during his rampage and he and his friends had become a literal proof that not every rule has to be always followed to the letter.

But the rules were still there and after a hundred years without they feel like slowly tightening chains around them.

There is also so much to catch up on, so much they had missed, that time just seems to fly away as there is always something else to work on, something else to improve, some new shinigami to whip into shape (and they are all so new and so young in their few hundreds and so so weak and he remembres training a young brat just 15 years old who would have wiped the floor with every single one of them and he grates) places to fix and before he knows it it's been almost a year and he realizes he hasn't heard from Ichigo yet.

The realization is not a pleasant one.

Hirako Shinji is very old and as such his grip on time can be tenuous sometimes, especially when surrounded by other similiarly static people, but he did spend a century around humans so he knows that after a break this long he should have heard something!

True they were instructed to give Ichigo his space for a while, space to heal from his de-powering but it's been almost a year and that has to have been long enough, surely?

Ichigo is not like them. He might have been powerful but at his core his was still human, and one apparently used to rapid progress in things if the stories of him achieving a bankai in mere days were true (and knowing Urahara Kisuke, they most likely were).

In the end it is Mashiro of all people who pushes him to make a move.

"Aww~ I haven't had a break in months! This is so booring~ Wonder how berry-tan is doing right now? He must be so bored too, playing human!"

"Huh!?" Scowls Kensei. His returned captain position with its stressfull resposibilities hadn't been great on his hollow reduced temper. "He's not playing at being human, he is a human, and a damn young one at that. The kid is propably just enjoying his break being normal". Something about the notion doesn't sit well in Shinji and he can see it on the clenced fist that Kensei doesn't fully believe what he's saying either.

"Hee~ but berry-tan was always so fighty! And he got so strong too! No way could normal human life seem anything but boring after that", she sniffs and he knows, they all know she's right, at least partly. By the end there, Ichigo had become overwhelmingly powerful, more than any human or even shinigami could hope to be. That had been the point. The plan. To stick an overpowered godlike fifteen year old against another basically a god, have them fight till the end and get rid of Aizen.

If it also happened to destroy the other superpowered being in the process then, well, wasn't that just convenient.

He grates.

Ichigo was designed by his father, Urahara Kisuke and ironically Aizen Sousuke himself to become just strong enough to face him and win and if he burnt out in the process?

Well even if he's powerless at least he's still alive.

Assumedly. They haven't heard anything from him in months.

[cowboys-of-tombstone]

It Started With a Letter (Johnny Ringo x Holliday!Reader) 2/3

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      Hours later you returned home with high spirits. All the usual customers arrived with cheerful attitudes and hardly any drunken shenanigans were made. You enclosed the door to your home and as you started towards your room, you saw Doc sitting in one of your chairs in the living room. The dim light from a nearby candle painted him in a ghastly appearance. Though you could barely see him, you could make out his cold gaze towards you, even without such an expression present.

      “John, what are you doin’ up at this hour? You need to rest with your condition, you know?” You asked as you carefully approached the chair adjacent to Doc.

      “How courteous,” Doc chuckled as he crossed his legs, “but I’m fine, thank you. I was hopin’ to have a short word, if you don’t mind.”

      Your eyes closed tightly and your lips pinched even tighter. That brother of yours just wouldn’t let up. A small forced smile graced your lips as you motioned Doc to continue.

      As he lightly dabbed the sweat from his face, he said, “Perhaps I had not made myself as clear. I am only lookin’ out for your safety.”

      “Whatever do you mean? I thought we were both plenty clear on our stances when you told me how you felt about my friend earlier today.” 

      “I admit I was a bit unreasonable, but that was because I was so caught off keister. Even you’d have to agree, for someone like Johnny Ringo to step through your front door like that, would be a shock to anyone.”

      You squint one eye as you asked, “Oh? You were just shocked, is all? So you don’t mind my friendship with Johnny, then? Now that the shock has worn off?”

      “Now wait just a moment-”

      “Hmph,” you quickly cut to the point, “just as I thought, we are in the exact spot we left ourselves in earlier, John. I had hoped, despite my better judgment, that you had come to be civil as a guest in my home.”

      “Why, Dear Sister, I have the utmost intentions to be civil, all I am askin’ is for you to reconsider your relationship to that Johnny Ringo.”

      “John Henry Holliday, what is the matter with you? It’s not as if we’re married or somethin’!” 

      “Sister, I have the consumption, not blindness. I was in town and I saw the way you both were meanderin’ about.”

      Your teeth boor into your bottom lip, “Meanderin’?! You damn, dullard, he was walkin’ me to work like he always does! You’d know that if you didn’t make a fool out of yourself and me!”

      Doc’s stern glare broke with a subtle shift of the eyes. The thick air rang in your ears as you both sat in utter silence. 

      Doc wetted his chapped lips as he finally said, “Perhaps I made an error of judgment.”

      “To put it lightly, for sure.” You replied, barely containing both your righteousness and exasperation. 

      Doc ascended from his seat as he sighed, “I’d prefer if you didn’t see him, entirely. He’s very dangerous, after all.”

      Pushing from his seat, Doc began to make his way to the guest room. Just as he was about to vanish in the darkness, you uttered, “Anymore dangerous than you?” The clicking of his boots stopped for just a moment before disappearing with the sound of the squealing door.

      Although you were left alone again, a certain sense of self satisfaction arose within you as you skipped to the candle and blew it out with a kiss.

------------------

      “A walk you say?” you asked as you and Johnny finished your cups of coffee.

        Even though Doc had his opinions on your friendship with Johnny Ringo, the three of you compromised by simply having the two gunslingers avoid each other entirely. If by chance, Doc came home when you two were together, an awkward, but brief, silence would pass until he went about his business.

      “Sure, it ain’t too hot out. Might be fun too.” Johnny added as he leaned back into his chair. Needing only a short time to consider, you happily agreed to Johnny’s proposal.

      “I can’t find a reason to say no! Let me go put on somethin’ more comfortable and we’ll head out!” 

      To stay comfortable on this trip through the Arizona wilderness, you chose a thin blue dress that reached just above your ankles. Its material was flexible enough to not feel constricting, and provided room to move about freely. To go with the dress, you chose some practical ankle high boots that you used to work in your garden, or anywhere else for that matter, to keep your feet from being bloody nubs when the job was done. You finished lacing your boots and hopped off your bed. As you met with Johnny in the front room, he rubbed his chin with a smile.

      “What’cha think?” You asked as you had a quick spin around. 

      “Ya look good.” He nodded as he looked away in an attempt to hide the heat radiating from his cheeks. Seeing Johnny glow like that threw you off, and yet, you felt your chest flutter from it. He always held his cards close to himself. Even when he told you what he was feeling, it was hard to know if he really meant it or not. Now, as he attempted to wipe away his shame, you had a glimpse of what he can really feel.

      Not wanting to get too distracted, and perhaps to save Johnny from his own mild embarrassment, you nudged, “Well, I suppose you lead the way then! I’m curious about where you want to go.”

      “I think you’ll like it. I know I did.” he replied as he casually made his way to your front door.

      Out into the fresh air, awaited Johnny’s horse. As you approached, its pink snout sniffed you curiously. Carefully, you reached out and patted its velvet nostrils and lips. The horse’s warm breath blew into your palms without a hint of distrust. You eased into holding its face and neck, and in turn, it began to rest its head into you.

      “I think he likes you.” Johnny said as he drummed his steed’s belly.

      “He’s very gentle.” You noted while the horse quietly knickered.

      “Well, despite bein’ the horse of a Cowboy, he’s his own beast for sure. Rides as good as anyone else’s in the worst of times, but he’d never hurt a fly.”

      “Maybe it’s because he knows you take good care of him.” you winked while Johnny lifted you onto his horse.

      “Thanks, I try to take care of those I’m close to.” Johnny sighed as he hopped on the front end of the saddle.

      You thought about what he meant by that as he snapped the reigns of his horse. The beat of horseshoes against the ground was soothing, and as you listened, you relaxed your head against his back. A gentle heat emitted from his jacket that lulled you half asleep. He curiously did nothing as you leaned against him, but his tense, fibrous muscles welcomed your gentle touch. 

      The town drifted away along the waves of the sandy ocean. As you continued along a sparsely used trail, the sand began to subside. Red rocks sprouted where the sand had ended, leading to massive stone structures and pathways, all carved out by millions of years of time. 

      For you, it was like you were in a bubble, away from the worries of the world at large. A time capsule that showed a past, and perhaps a future untouched by Man. For Johnny, it was as if he were guarding an ancient treasure for eternity and you were its golden centerpiece, a sacred chalice in this forgotten land. 

      Eventually the hypnotic ride was too much and soon you continued such reveries in your sleep, succumbing to Johnny’s heat. Johnny, on the other hand, had his mind revving like a locomotive. 

      Unbeknownst to you, Johnny had spent a lot of time self-reflecting about the night with the drunken patron. He recalled how enraged he was when that drunk bastard laid his hands on you, how ready he was willing to kill; not for himself, nor his gang, but so that you were safe. He reminisced about how you wrapped your arms around him and let all your frustrations fall onto his coat. Surprised as he was at your actions, Johnny felt something akin to sparklers running up and down his body at the same time. His face and hands glowed red but remained hidden from you. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since someone hugged him so deeply, so tightly. It felt like all the wrongs in the whole world were made right once again in the single moment. 

      After you were brought safely home, that strange night, Johnny returned to The Cowboy’s camp alone. As he watched the campfire dance, the smoldering heat crept onto him. So too, was a single realization that choked him like a noose: he not only had feelings for you, but he had them for a while, and just didn’t know it up until that point. 

      Before he could recollect on how it was on his mind for days, his thoughts burned away like a diary thrown into a hearth. Familiar landmarks sprung up from all over, pointing him in the right direction. Knowing you both were close, Johnny carefully tapped you awake from your slumber. 

      “Hey, we’re here.” Johnny whispered as he patted on your leg. As you both circled around one last rock formation, the land began to flow like a sea of gold and rubies.

      Blanket flowers flooded a small plain below, gripping tightly to the stream that ran through its middle. Towering above them were lush trees and cacti who silently guarded the quiet oasis. Through the cool breeze, the distinct whistle of hummingbirds echoed faintly.

      “It’s so beautiful.” you uttered, taking in the view.

      “Knew you’d like it,” Johnny smirked proudly as he hopped off his horse. He held out his hand to you and while you gripped it tightly, you slid from his steed to the bumpy, eroded ground beneath you.

      “How did you find this place?” you asked, peering off the ledge to examine the distance to the valley below.

      Johnny shrugged, “When you got free time on your hands, sometimes you want to see where the trail takes you.” 

      “Why Johnny, you sound so dashin’.” you jest as you briefly fan yourself.

      Johnny shook his head and sighed, “Do you wanna sit here and keep making jokes? Or do you wanna go down and see all that for yourself?”

      “Oh, uh, I don’t know Johnny. Don’t you think it’s a little high?” you questioned as you glanced over the edge again, confirming the steep drop.

      “Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, “But don’t worry! I brought us a heavy rope to get us down there.”

      Despite your reasonable doubt, you wrapped the prickly rope around your waist. Dryness swept across your tongue as you braced yourself at the edge. Johnny tightened the other end to a large stone and squared his stance. Gingerly, you stepped off and placed your boot on the cliff's perpendicular face. Slowly, you shuffled down without any problems, but when your feet were firmly planted on the ground again, you let out a deep breath of relief.

      “Alright!” You called out, “It’s your turn, Cowboy!”

      Without warning, Johnny leaped from the cliff and, like a spider, seamlessly glided down to your side. 

      “Show off.” you playfully rolled your eyes. 

      It was one thing to see this small oasis from the cliff, but now the air was soaked with smells akin to a flower shop. It was clear how much more was hidden away at that distance. Bees were pacing up and down the petals of almost every flower. Ladybugs groomed each plant for any unwanted pests. Between them both, butterflies lazily fluttered about, with no actual destination in mind. 

      As you both carefully trodden deeper into the valley, the sound of running water brushed against your ears. You looked to Johnny, and he, to you. After all, a fresh drink is always welcomed in Arizona.

      The splashes of the water against the rocks sounded crisp and cold. The stream was not very wide, one could jump halfway across it, but when Johnny measured it with a long dried stick, the water could reach his waist. Tiny silver minnows darted through the crystal clear water, despite its current, and snails sat snuggly between the rocks at the bottom. 

      Johnny wetted a piece of cloth from the stream and wiped his face with it. You cupped the water in your hands and took a sip. It didn’t taste like anything, but it swept away the bitter, dry taste in your mouth. 

      As he wrung out his cloth, Johnny turned to have another look around. However, when you checked on him, you noticed he froze in place.

      “What is it? What do you see?” you whispered.

      “Stand up slowly and look over there, where the valley closes.” Johnny replied, as he pointed to the spot of interest.

      As you rose above the flowers, the valley wrapped into a thin crevice. Standing at that narrow exit, stood a pale pronghorn, who was staring right back. The creature was strange, it was fat like a ram, but had the legs of a slender deer, and it looked like its horns were stolen from a stag beetle. Yet, it stood with the poise and grace of a prince, and viewed you as humble guests in its court. You attempted to get a better look at the sacred creature, but a crow’s call sent it sprinting down the crevice.

      If you had blinked, you would’ve sworn it disappeared into thin air.

      “Oh, damn!” You clicked your tongue, “I wanna go after it now. Just to see it one more time.”

      “Same, but I’ve heard some say they’re the fastest animals with hooves. I believe it too, he’s probably long gone now.” Johnny shook his head as he held his hips.

      There were a couple stuffed pronghorn trophies amongst other taxidermies within the businesses of Tombstone, yet to see one alive and amongst the flowers of this hidden valley was truly a moment to bear witness. You turned to Johnny and gave him a tight hug.

      “Oh, what’s this for?” Johnny asked as he returned the hug, patting you on the back. 

      “For bringin’ me here. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.” you smiled as you held him tighter. 

      It was strange, your gentle soul kept on finding new ways to captivate him. No matter the reason, no matter how simple the affair, you always had something to be thankful for because of him. Again, it wasn’t as if The Cowboys didn’t show appreciation for each other, Johnny kept reminding himself. But a lingering fact remained, that you weren’t bound by some thieves’ honor or creed. You were the way you were with just about everybody. And perhaps that’s what Johnny liked most about you.

      These feelings in Johnny’s chest burned at him worse than Ol’ Man Clanton’s homemade moonshine. Unable to take his emotional indigestion, Johnny took your hands into his and said, “Well, don’t thank me yet! We still can look around a bit more before we go.”

      You nodded and the two of you began your look about. Though, the valley was vastly smaller than a sight such as The Grand Canyon. In fact, it was about as wide as a street in Tombstone and ran about as long as one, before pinching into tight exit points on either side. The both of you decided to try to circle the oasis and see what you could find.

      Your fingertips caressed the canyon wall. It was like they had melted from the desert sun, but hardened before the river of liquid stone could be washed away. As you continued around the diameter of the valley, you began to notice how uneven the soil was underneath the unassuming flowers. Before your mind could fully process the terrain, the ground dipped steeply from underneath you. 

      Just as suddenly as you lost your balance, Johnny’s arms slipped around your waist, stopping the fall.

      “Woah there, you alright?” he whispered in your ear. 

      You let out a short gasp, “O-oh! I just slipped, is all!”

      The rouge let loose of your waist once you stood upright. With a devilish grin, he offered you his arm and said, “Well, we can’t go on havin’ that, why don’t ya hold onto me from here on?”

      You felt your cheeks glowing as you gently grasped him. The sly coyote knew exactly what he was doing, and so did you. Even then, despite your racing heart, you could get used to the prospect. 

      The clouds reddened as you both scoured the valley, looking into every crack and nook. Laughter echoed from the walls of the valley as the crickets began to sing. A gentle breeze blew through you, causing your skin to crawl. Ever so keen on your condition, Johnny rubbed his hands against your freezing shoulders. You looked over the valley one more time as the sun exited stage right, the lightning bugs signaling the moon to rise. 

      “Goodness! How long were we out here?” you asked.

      “Time flies, I guess. ‘Bout time we started heading back.” Johnny confirmed your suspicion. 

      You let out a great sigh, not wanting to let such an idyllic day end, but as the cold settled into your bones, the idea of warming yourself to a cozy fire back at home became more than tempting. 

      Meandering back to the rope, Johnny quickly scaled the valley’s face. When your turn arrived, Johnny called to you from above, “Just tie the line around your waist. My horse and I’ll take care of the rest.”

      You do as Johnny said, and once your waist was secured, you yanked on the rope sharply, testing the strength. With confidence, you grinned up at him, and hollered, “Ready when you are!” And in no time at all, you flew from the valley floor, up to meet with Johnny. As your head finally poked above the cliff, muscular hands held onto you, and hauled you up. You couldn’t find ground for your feet to stand on, as he gently spun you around, your hands resting on his chest to steady yourself with.

      When Johnny finally decided to let you loose, you landed firmly on his awaiting horse. With you secured, he too hopped on, a quick snap of the reins sent you both on your journey home. 

      It baffled you how quickly the desert could shift from blistering heat to shivering cold. Before you were even a third of the way back, the cold had begun to make your fingers ache and brought about a constant shiver. You wondered to yourself how those Cowboys could willingly survive in these unforgiving lands. What lunatic, you postulated, could live through the wingbeat of Satan himself, for the sake of being free from the laws of man?

      “Hey.”

      Your hyperbolic suppositions of Cowboys and their survival, burst from the rouge’s sharp voice.

      “What is it?” you asked as you clenched tightly to his jacket.

      “Are you cold back there?”

      “N-no, I’ll be alright. I know we’re close to town, anyway.” you nodded to yourself as your eyes clenched shut.

      “Not even halfway, ya know.” Johnny clarified.

      “Oh,” you sighed, swearing much more of the journey had passed, “Well, in any case, I’ll be fine. I made it this far already.”

      You could practically hear his eyes rolling in his skull. The horse slowed to a walking pace, and just as you began to wonder why, Johnny threw his jacket over your shoulders. Warmth rained down on your person, as if next to a hot stove. 

      “I, uh… you didn’t-” you stammered.

      “You’re welcome.” Johnny waved without looking back.

      You slipped your arms through the slightly baggy sleeves and tightly hugged his waist. “... thank you…” you whispered gingerly. 

      How cruel the passage of time could be. The cold winds had sunk their claws into you for what felt like hours, when your journey had only just begun. Now that you were safe within the realms of Johnny’s coat, you peaked open your eyes and saw the flickering lights of Tombstone in the distance. Your heart sank just a bit, if only that moment could have lasted longer.

      The sounds of civilization manifested from the silence, and before you knew it, you had returned home. Up the steps to your front door, you handed back Johnny’s jacket to him.

      “Thank you again for the wonderful time, Johnny.” You beamed warmly. Without hesitation, you stood on your toes and planted a peck on his cheek.

      Johnny could hardly respond as you waved him goodbye behind your door. Even after disappearing into your cottage, the Cowboy struggled to make heads or tails of what had just happened. Eventually, all he could do was smile, shake his head in disbelief, and ride out towards camp. 

      In another part of the house, Doc listened, as you hummed back to your room. He took another drag from a cigarette butt as he sat in darkness. Moonlight dimly trickled through the curtains and cast its light upon him. Kate snored lightly in their bed, having long since fallen into slumber. He pondered, he postulated, he thought to himself, deep in a mire of viscus vulgarity. 

      How foolish of him to trust his naive sister to be with a conniving snake such as Johnny Ringo. He grounded the remainder of his cigarette into the windowsill, snuffing out its flame. Perhaps, he concluded, it would be best that he took a closer look into the relationship you and Johnny had.

------------------

      In the days that passed your trip into the wilderness, Johnny would continue to offer his arm to you, to make sure that, “you wouldn’t fall again.” You scoffed initially, even if you still took his arm in yours. Yet, because of how often he’d offer you his support, it did not take long for you to reach out for him instead. Soon, all of Tombstone took note of the new habit you two had developed. 

      Even Doc became begrudgingly aware of what the two of you had been up to. If he didn’t catch you strutting up and down town together, some imbecile would waddle right up to him, just out of stabbing distance, to inform Doc of what he already agonizingly knew. The only testament to his capabilities in this fog of anguish he was in, was to drown it out with just another bitter drink.

      Doc roused from a hazy stupor, finding himself back in your home. Although he was “awake,” it was impossible to describe him as “lucid.” His ribs ached from his coughing, every sound he heard rang into a prolonged echo, and his vision doubled and tripled. As he suffered within his fever dream, Kate nonchalantly sat beside him as she continued to look over their earnings from earlier last night. 

      The front door opened with a creak and you walked in from a hard day’s work.

      “Evenin’, ya’ll.” you sighed as you placed your coat on the rack.

      “Hullooo~” Kate answered quietly. You awaited Doc’s answer while you locked up for the night. Silence eerily breathed down your neck as you awaited for your brother to respond. When it never came, you spun around with a perplexed frown, curious as to what was the matter.

      “Oh my God! Is John alright?!” you gasped.

      Kate shot you a baffled look, then to Doc, then back to you and replied, “Yes he’s fine, why?”

      Doc sat limply in the chair with a deathly complexion. Kate’s obliviousness made your stomach twist into a sickening knot. 

      “I’m gonna get a doctor.” you declared sharply. As you marched to grab your coat again, a loud cough brought you to a halt.

      “Why, Dear Sister!” Doc wheezed, “Did you just make it home?”

      “I was just about to get you a doctor, John. I’m worried about your condition!”

      “Oh nonsense. I just lived slightly above my means, is all.” He slurred, waving away your concerns.

      “That’s right,” Kate interjected as she quickly put away the money she was counting, “Even a man like Doc could use some rest every so often.” 

      “The two of you can’t be serious-” you started.

      Doc leaned forward to rise from his seat as he said breathily, “Come, darlin’. Won’t you help me to the room?”

      “Of course, my loving man.” Kate smiled as she held the wobbly gunslinger. The two hobbled back to their quarters without another word. You bit your thumb hard enough for it to turn white as you wondered if there was even anything you could do for your brother.

------------------

      The next day, after work, you returned home. Though you were fatigued, dinner was not going to make itself. And Kate, you surmised, wasn’t the kind to make it either. The recipe wasn’t anything complicated, just some salted pork and beans. There was plenty enough for Doc and Kate too.

      Although, when dinner was finished and you sat down to eat, you became aware of how quiet your home actually was. In retrospect, you surmised that making the extra salted pork and beans for folks who probably weren’t going to be home that night, was a bad idea. Regardless, you also concluded that, if they did get home later that night, at least they’d have a little something for tonight or even early tomorrow.

      After dinner, you scrawled down a note for Doc and Kate to help themselves, and placed it on top of the closed pot. Slipping into your nightgown, you nestled in your bed for a bit of reading. The soft candle light bounced off the pages of your book, and it wasn’t long until it hypnotized you into lassitude. You placed your book on the nightstand, blew out the candle, and settled down for the night.

      The following morning, the sun’s rays peaked through your curtains and gently warmed your face. Sitting up, you began to stretch, but paused. You listened, but there was nothing. Had Doc and Kate even returned home last night? Your tongue clicked as you continued to postulate, concluding that they could’ve returned home and were just asleep.

      The door to your room creaked as you took a peek outside. You shuffled to the kitchen, and found it just as you left it. Not the pot, nor your note were even touched. A bit of worry gnawed at the back of your head as you tossed a glance to the guest room’s door.

      The scent of tobacco ash wafted from the gap underneath the door. You bit your cheek, gently knocking the hollow sounding wood. 

      No response.

      This time, you pressed your ear against the door as you knocked again, and listened. Only the white noise of still air could be heard on the other side. Now, fully entrenched in your inquisitiveness, you carefully twisted the door knob, and peered inside. 

      The bed was made, albeit haphazardly. The ashtray on the nightstand was filled to the brim with the ends of cigarettes, and all the surfaces of the room, at least, had a couple of empty bottles resting upon them. Although there was an overwhelming scent from all the smoking, it was stale. Because of it, you couldn’t believe they had returned at all.

      Tightening your mouth to one side, you closed the door. Though you wondered about your brother and his partner’s whereabouts, they were adults, who were fully capable of coming and going as they pleased. You swallowed your worry, and drifted to the kitchen to take care of the leftovers and dishes.

      On the second day, you checked your brother’s room again. Not only was no one inside still, but in fact, it seemed that the room hadn’t been touched entirely. The wrinkles on the bed remained the same and the smell in the room was staler than the last. Thoughts of concern buzzed in and out of your mind as you got ready for work. You glanced one last time at the empty room before you left. A search might be in order, if he wasn’t home by the time you got off, you concluded.

      Work was difficult with your brother on your mind. Just like your toughest days, however, you were able to pull through, in the end. Once your shift was over, and you were on your way out, you stopped to look back at the restaurant. The only two customers in the place sat huddled together around a single table. 

      Your fingers strummed your side. Perhaps, it was possible that these two gentlemen knew who Doc was and had seen him around. Your brother did have a standout reputation, afterall. 

      Approaching their table, you waved, “Oh, pardon me, gentlemen.”

      The two mangled prospectors smiled with missing teeth, one lisping, “Howdy, Miss Holliday! Is everything alright?”

      “Actually, I was wonderin’, do either of you know my brother, Doc Holliday?” you asked, lightly wringing your dress.

      The two turned to each other with intrigue, “Why, sure. Just about everybody knows Doc, I’d reckon. Can’t miss a character like that!”

      “Can’t miss his lady friend, neither.” one nudged the other.

      You rolled your eyes, “Yes, I’m sure. Um, but, have either of you seen them in town within the past two days?”

      One of them leaned in closer, “You didn’t know, Miss Holliday? He’s been at it at the Dragoon Saloon for the past two days. I reckon he hasn’t even gotten an ounce of sleep. Dropped by their yesterday to wet my whistle after work, and then again this mornin’ on my way back.” 

      You stepped back slowly shaking your head. Had he truly been out drinking for the past two days straight? All you could muster to the prospectors was a soft, “Thank you.” Then you rushed out the door to your next destination.

      The Dragoon Saloon, thankfully, was only a brisk jog down the street. You were relieved to find that he wasn’t a pile of bones bleaching in the desert somewhere. But what in the world was he thinking?

      Just as you approached the doors of the saloon, a party of three had pushed themselves out. Two on the outside carried the third member in the middle, practically dragging him by the boots. When they finally came into the street light, you realized it was Doc being carried by Kate and a man you didn’t know.

      You pushed past the stranger and took his place in carrying Doc, gasping, “What happened to him?”

      The stranger interjected hoarsely, “Came into me bar with his lady friend two days ago. I had come in to work all of yesterday, switched out with one o’ me bar keeps fer some shut eye. Came back today and he was still at it. Must’a been at it fer a total of 36 hours!”

      The bar owner’s confirmation was still as shocking as what the prospectors had claimed. You knew Kate fed into his vices, but you were nearly left speechless as to how she could’ve allowed Doc to go so far. 

      Almost in response to your demanding glance, Kate blurted out, “How could I stop him? Once Doc started winning there was no pulling out! The plan was always to fold once we lost a certain amount, but he never did.”

      Perhaps, gripped by sheer astonishment, your voice wouldn’t utter another word, even when you tried. 

      The barkeep implored, “Are you lasses fine with takin’ ‘em back home by yerselves?”

      Refocusing your attention to him, you nodded, “Yes, I’m sure we will make it just fine.” You then motioned to Kate, “Come on, let’s get him home.”

      Between you and Kate, you were both able to stagger back to your cottage. Exhaustively, you two carefully laid Doc onto his bed. You wanted a word with Kate, but she too flopped onto the mattress next to her man, kicking her boots off at the same time.

      It was a possibility, you thought, that for once, Kate was right. You too were exhausted from hauling your near cadaver of a brother all the way home. It made sense to call it quits for the meantime. After all, she too was up with your brother for the past two days. You doubted she was in any condition to be reasoned with. But you were sure to have a word with her in private, the next chance you got.

      Late in the afternoon, the following day, you were in the midst of preparing dinner, once again. This time, you had your guests in mind. The creamy, chicken and dumpling soup bubbled as you gingerly stirred the concoction of soft vegetables, and tender chicken chunks, together.

      Your brother, nor his company, had emerged from their room the entire day. Outside of muffled groans and heavy snores, you could’ve assumed they left again for another binge. Yet, the pleasant smell must’ve seeped into their room. 

      Soon enough, Doc emerged from his cave with the wobbly legs of a newborn calf. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused. The bags under his eyes resembled black bruises rather than mere exhaustion. His face almost appeared to be made of wax. And his body, in an attempt to purge the toxins that flooded him, produced a sour scent from his pools of sweat. 

      He hobbled along to the front room clenching himself for warmth. Hunger leaked from his gaze as he stared through your kitchen’s half wall.

      “Mornin’ there, sleepy head.” you smiled warmly, “Seems like you had a busy couple of days, would you like somethin’ for that headache of yours?”

      He nodded. With shame or sickness, you couldn’t tell, but he didn’t verbally answer nor did he meet your gaze. The pour of the soup was reflected in his glassy eyes. While the frustration remained, your aggravation was replaced with pity. Even one so proud as Doc Holliday was made humble at the feet of his vices.

      You greeted his weary gaze with a gentle smile as you passed him a billowing bowl. His eyes shot glances to you and the bowl as he felt the heat emanate from it. The spoon scuttled at the bottom, clasping to the tender vegetable and milky base. Doc’s lips slid against the spoon. You could’ve sworn steam escaped his nostrils from the soup’s intense heat.

      “Exquisite as always.” Doc muttered softly.

      “I try.” you chuckled.

      “Indeed.” Doc agreed, setting the bowl down on the half wall’s counter. “If I may, I want you to know that I greatly appreciate your hospitality.”

      “Of course, John! We’re kin, afterall, you and I. I just hate that you’ve gone and done this to yourself. Now, I’m not sayin’ you can’t have fun, but, you know better than this. I was really frightened for you these past couple of days. Come to my surprise you’re havin’ a grand ol’ time. So much of a good time, in fact, that the mosquitos could get a hangover from ya!”

      “I understand.” Doc sheepishly remarked.

      Exhaling through your nostrils, you poured another bowl. Though you really wanted to be more firm with him, it seemed no such push was necessary. You could feel the weight on his brow. Despite how upset you were from the whole ordeal, you couldn’t help but feel empathy for your sickly scoundrel of a brother. He was, afterall, just trying to find his place in the grand scheme of things. Just like everyone else in this world.

      You handed him the other bowl, sighing, “Here, for your plus one. I’m sure she’s not feelin’ any better.”

      “Positively writhin’, the poor dear.” Doc whispered, “But I think this will do the trick.”

      He hobbled back in the direction of his room with both bowls in tow. Before heading inside, he called back to you, “I can’t thank you enough.”

      “Well, don’t let that stop you from tryin’, Dear Brother.”

      As you finally poured yourself a bowl, you heard the rare chuckle from your brother as he closed the door behind him.

      The mellow waters of content washed over your shoulders. Sure, Doc had the habit of deciding what he wanted to do, rather than what he should do, but it seemed, to you, that he took what you said with some consideration. Knowing this, you felt relief for your brother, and yourself as well. For a moment, you felt hopeful that maybe, just maybe, your concerns hadn’t fallen on deaf ears, this time. 

      At least, that’s what you had hoped.

      Not even a week later, while you and Johnny quietly read in the front room together, Kate dragged Doc in, roughly throwing the door open. The couple had been out since dawn and had only returned then, after the sun long since set. You shot up from your seat with concern. The way she huddled against him, and struggled to walk in, signaled that something was wrong.

      But then the stench of alcohol and tobacco slapped you. 

      “Don’t mind us! We’ll just be in our room.” Kate waved, struggling with her dead weight.

      You and Johnny continued to watch, unblinkingly and expressionlessly. Kate’s hollow footsteps were matched by the sudden thud of her losing grip of Doc and dropping him. She sucked in air through her teeth as she struggled unsuccessfully to lift him. You stepped forth to assist them, however, Kate raised Doc into a seated position. From there, she hooked her arms underneath his armpits and dragged him, knocking over a few of your books from the shelves as they passed by.

      “Oops, pardon me!” Kate awkwardly chuckled, as she lumbered Doc back to their room.

      Initially, you were in utter shock, but as their door shut, your expression fell into absolute contempt.

      You spun around, reaching for every which way to apologize to your guest, until Johnny held up his hand.

      “No need to be sorry. You didn’t make them drunk, afterall.”

      While you appreciated the sentiment, it didn’t change how Doc and Kate had acted. It didn’t change the fact that the talk you had with him meant nothing. And it certainly didn’t change your embarrassment in front of Johnny.

      You politely nodded and returned to your seat with your best attempt to continue to enjoy your visit. A few hours later, your grandfather clock sent Johnny Ringo on his way. And you awaited Doc’s return to the surface.

      Just like any hapless seal, unknowingly caught by an awaiting hunter, Doc staggered out of his room and into the kitchen. You could practically see his veins pulling and stretching his temples. His gaunt and off-colored skin wrapped tightly around his face and hands, begging to be hydrated. As he messily poured a couple of glasses of water you quickly approached his side, almost startling him.

      “Pay no mind, I’ll wipe up the mess right now.” Doc blurped.

      “Doc, what are you doin’?” you asked.

      “Hm?” he muttered, stealing a sip from one of the cups.

      “What in heaven’s name was that about earlier?” you asked, pointing to the front door. Doc could only respond with a perplexed look, so you continued, “Earlier? When you and Kate got home? Or were you passed out when Kate dragged you in, in front of my guest?”

      There was a peak of confusion in his brow. Doc looked in your direction, but he seemed to almost look through you, at the same time. It was like he was made of petrified wood, and in a very short amount of time, you could no longer bear his silence.

      “What happened to the last time we talked about this? I recall you sayin’ that you understood, yet there you were, dead as a doornail.” you exasperated as your hands slapped your sides. 

      Unable to answer, or perhaps unwilling to, he turned back to the counter and poured more water into the cup he drank from. Just as before, you felt the need to trudge the issue along further for any kind of answer.

      “Were you just sayin’ that to get me out of your hair?” you asked, “Or you did understand but you just don’t care?”

      Even still, his lips were sealed and his silence was piercing.

      “Don’t you have anythin’ to say? I’m worried about you, John. Please, just talk to me.” 

      Crickets chirped outside your home as you awaited his answer. Driven into a corner, Doc exhaled deeply, as he turned to face you again, “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine.” 

      Doc took the cups and slid past you, to what you perceived to be, complete dismissal.

      “Dammit, John! Is that how it’s goin’ to be? Well then, I better not see you drunk when I’m around!” You stiffly pointed your finger to Doc as he closed the door to his room behind him.

      Holding your breath, you swung at the air, beating at your imaginary brother, black and blue. Your threat was only a bluff and he called it as easily as the redness that painted your face. The imponent rage subsided and you were left hollow. While your arms clutched each other tightly in a lukewarm self embrace, you took a moment to ponder to yourself.

      You didn’t think that you were asking for much, were you? Were you really being so absurd? Did you go too far? You thought about it every which way, but found yourself back in the same place, with the same conclusions. 

      You knew you were right to be worried and upset about Doc’s drinking habits. So, why then, did he not see that? You thought you and he had reached some sort of earnest moment. In retrospect, perhaps you had been a bit naive, but to have him be so dismissive of your sentiments and pleas, broke your heart. 

      You slinked down into a chair by the dining table. Your chin tightened. The weight that you felt from it all was crushing. You felt helpless from your frustration that sat on your chest and wringed your neck. Tears welled in your eyes and you tried to stop them by holding your face in your hands. It was almost impossible to swallow nothing at all.

      The next day, though you could still taste a faint bitterness, most of your vexation was washed away by the time you had awoken. 

      This day, you had planned to run some errands. Your household was in desperate need of groceries, and not to mention, there was a pile of laundry that had been neglected for a couple of days, at that point. It seemed as if life cared little for your struggles. But, in a way, it brought you relief. In your mind, it was like a reminder of things that you should be focusing on, rather than the petty squabbles with your brother. 

      You tapped the toe of your boot to the floor, ensuring your comfort within it. Ready to go, you reached for the front door, when you heard a click from behind. 

      Doc wandered the kitchen with a crow-like gait, no doubt in search of something to eat. Swallowing the rest of that bitter taste from earlier, and henceforth your pride as well, you broke the silence, “I need to get groceries, John. I’ll be back in a couple hours. Is there anythin’ you’d like from the market?”

      Almost mechanically, Doc halted his search, and monotonously replied, “No, thank you.” Before returning, wordlessly, back to his room. Not even a goodbye.

      Smoke billowed within the confines of Doc and Kate’s bedroom. Kate laid on the bed, and propped herself up by her elbow underneath a pile of pillows. She watched the strings of smoke dance through the air, while Doc took a seat in the room’s sole chair. Pouring himself another shot into his tin cup, he felt the burning need to introspect.

      He listened, and you closed the front door upon your leave. It was his queue to take another drink. The biting heat passed his tongue and sterilized his throat. Though quite clever, more often than not, Doc was easily swept up in the winds of his intemperance and passions. So too, did he think he had the reins of control when, in reality, the bit was in between his teeth instead.

      With self assurance, he clamped down on his imaginary bridle, with the belief that it was of his own determination. You didn’t want to see him drunk, so be it. He was merely a guest in your home, after all. 

      You, on the other hand, looked upon your brother’s distant behavior with charity. Perhaps, you caught him off guard with how forgiving you sounded, you gloated to yourself in jest. Jokes aside, you weren’t surprised in the way your brother found himself. You had just swallowed your own pride, despite the residual feelings of grievance you had prior. In fact, it still lingered like the cough from a bad cold. And if you felt that way, how could you expect Doc to fare any better? Regardless, when enough time passed, you figured a compromise of sorts was bound to arise.

      Days passed, and yet the silence between the two of you remained the same. You’d argue it got worse, even. Doc would disappear for hours at a time, and only returned long after you had fallen asleep. You could only tell of his and Kate’s return from the muffled snores that seeped from the cracks of their room. When you did catch him awake, there were no hellos or goodbyes. They no longer ate the food you left out for them, and it was as if you were alone in your home, but not quite. 

      More like, phantoms to each other’s perception; the only kind of awareness to be conceived was through whispers and a cold harsh breeze. 

------------------

      Clouds rumbled over the mountains like a flock of stampeding sheep. Despite their woolish appearance, lightning flicked in and around them as water poured from underneath. Thunderstorms were far from unheard of, but most of Tombstone was caught off guard from its sudden apparition. 

      You too scrambled to beat the storm as the clouds began to blot out the sun. Of course you chose a shift that started when the rain rolled in. Perfect.

      A cough of makeup billowed from your room as you rapidly pecked at your cheeks with a powder puff. Your heart pounded as you applied the waxy, red pigment to your lips as the final touches to your appearance. You sighed, releasing the tenseness weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the makeup was thrown into a small chest and placed back onto your vanity dresser. 

      Just as you reached for your umbrella, a knock at your door pulled your attention away to answer it. Waiting on the other side of your door was Johnny Ringo who greeted you with a hat tip. The desaturated light from outside contrasted with the faint warm candle you kept to light your home.

      “You ready to go?” He asked, looking over his shoulder into the gloom.

      “Yes, let me just grab my bag!” You assured him, blowing out the candle and running back inside.

      Emerging back from the darkness of your home, you nudged Johnny out of the way and locked the door. By then, the clouds smothered the sky in a thick gray tone. This bleakness however, could not break the atmosphere you and Johnny shared together. He smiled warmly as he held out his arm for yours, and as you took his, the chill in the air dissipated. 

      “So, what’s in your plans today?” You asked Johnny as you both walked the main street. 

      “Ol’ Behan has a few of us goin’ around collecting taxes for ‘im.” Johnny shook his head, “Always sendin’ us to take on folks who aren’t too keen on payin’ up without a beating first.”

      “Oh, I’m sorry I asked.” You sucked in some air through your teeth. “I’m glad you can find work with Mr. Behan, but I’d hate for you to hurt yourself doin’ all that.”

      He raised his brows with a half smile, “Why, aren’t you a sweetheart?”

      Your cheeks turned rosy and your eyes widened. You had to hear him say it again as you asked, “What did you just say to me, Johnny Ringo?”

      “Oh, well-uh..” he stumbled over himself, flatlined by your straightforwardness.

      Thunder ripped you both apart with the promise of imminent rain. You looked to the heavens and saw lighting sprinting across the sky. You reached for your umbrella but found it missing.

      “Aw, Hell!” You scowled, “I forgot my umbrella at home!”

      “How’d you forget that in this weather?” Johnny scrunched his face.

      “Oh, really? And where’s yours then?” You asked as you slapped your sides.

      Johnny bulged his eyes mockingly, tapping his wide brimmed hat and jacket. The man was practically begging for you to let him have it. Before you could oblige, mist caressed your face.

      A sheet of water fell from the heavens like theater curtains. A stillness in your being allowed you to accept your cold shivering fate. However, a familiar soft, wooly texture encased you, and your hand was gripped tightly. As you were pulled along, you realized, yet again, that Johnny Ringo was responsible for your safekeeping.

      Laughter slipped from your lips while you both sprinted for the Crystal Palace. Johnny looked back at you, perplexed by your sudden bout of laughter. His furrowed brow faded away and he joined you in glee. The mud squished under your boots as you continued your perilous sprint. Water tapped on the coat, slowly turning it damp, even on the inside. The glow from inside the Palace drew you to it like a moth to a flame as you came ever closer.

      Just as soon as it started, you made it to the safety of the Palace’s rickety porch. You handed Johnny his coat as you huffed to catch your breath. 

      “Thank you for the save, back there.” You said, crossing your arms while you tapped the sand off your soggy boots. 

      “Anytime, sweetheart.” Johnny nodded. His hands reached for yours and were still warm despite the rain. “Try to stay dry, now.”

      You bit your bottom lip. There he said it again, looking deep into your eyes with that smug smile of his. He knew you were dough in his hands, yet you tried to hold your ground all the while.

      “I’d say the same, but I know you won’t listen.” You teased him with a smile.

      “I’ll try.” He relented warmly.

      You both said your goodbyes, while Johnny buttoned his jacket and stepped forth into the storm. You too hurried inside to freshen up for your shift. Your patrons awaited you to brighten up this gloomy day.

      Hours later, as your shift wrapped up, the Palace was jam-packed with customers. Their collective heat kept the establishment pleasantly warm if one ignored the musky smell. You didn’t realize the gift it was to be in there until you stepped outside again. The wind whistled in your ears and rain made it nearly impossible to see far into the night.

      Looking back within the Palace, you realized then, why it was so busy. Not a soul was seen outside, except for a lone smoker who also hid under the balcony of the poker house across the street. 

      Pondering for a moment, you tried to convince yourself to go back in and borrow an umbrella. Yet, when you saw how occupied your boss and coworkers were, you paused. 

      ‘Just ask them’ you urged yourself.

      ‘But they’re so busy.’ 

      ‘You’ll get soaked!’

      ‘They’ll get soaked if it’s still rainin’ when their shift’s over!’ 

      Your boots stomped on the splintered patio in spite of yourself. Convinced there was no other option, you readied yourself to sprint all the way home. Just as you finished praying to be free of pneumonia, you heard a horse approach you from behind.

      “Hey there, sweetheart.”

      Even in the heavy rain, you could make out the horseman’s familiar silhouette.

      “Johnny? Is that you?” you squinted.

      “Thought you might need this.” A semicircle sprang out from his form, revealing a navy blue umbrella. 

      The crevices in the polished wooden handle rubbed against your hand. As your chest pounded, you softly uttered, “Oh, Johnny. You didn’t have to-”

      “Come on, let’s get you back home.” he coaxed you onto his horse. Even though the rain still poured, the wind died down, no longer presenting a biting sensation to your cheeks. With your new umbrella blanketing the both of you, even the weather was more than bearable. Allowing for a comfortable pace, the horse cantered the two of you back home.

      Across the street, under the balcony of the poker house, the lone smoker watched the two of you disappear into the rain. Alcohol and nicotine flooded his veins, yet he felt nothing, numb to even the freezing air.

      “There you are, Doc!” Kate called from the entrance, “Why aren’t you inside?”

      “I’ll be right there, darlin’.” he muttered lowly, watching your trail wash away from the sand.

      Your cottage came into view sooner than you expected, not that you could complain. The succulents in your garden were swollen from the rain, with some even sprouting purple blossoms. Hearing the taps of water on your roof brought a shiver of relief as you unlocked the door. Droplets slithered off the umbrella, like silver snakes, as you shook it off.

      “I can’t thank you enough, Johnny. Would you believe it if I told you I was plannin’ on runnin’ all the way home?” you chuckled as you reached out to hand the umbrella back to him.

      “Yeah, I believe it!” Johnny tsked as he looked down to see what you were passing him, “Which is why I think you can keep it.”

      “Oh no, Johnny! I said I just forgot my umbrella, not that I didn’t have one.” You clarified, “Besides, I’m already home now. You could use this a lot more than me at this point.”

      “Don’t worry about it, it’s a gift.” he smiled, “Just be sure you remember to actually bring it next time.”

      Your eyes sharpened and your hands fell on your hips, “Look who’s a sweetheart now? Care to come in and dry off?”

      “I’d love to, but I gotta get my ol’ Rosinante to a stable and dry him off. Don’t need him keeling over on me.”

      A pang of disappointment washed over you, even if it was the right thing to do. You set the umbrella down and jumped into his arms, pecking him on the cheek, “See you around then, Cowboy.”

      The flustered bandit rubbed his cheek before, without warning, kissing you back on yours. 

      “See you around.” he tipped his hat and sauntered back to his horse.

      Though the rain drenched the ground, and lightning crackled across the sky, you felt like you were showered in sunshine. That dastardly thief might have gifted you an umbrella, but he rode away having stolen your heart. 

------------------

      The thunderstorm came and went. Left in its trail were fields of green and miles of flowers. The miners still mined, the farmers still farmed, and yet all, for a moment each day, took time to breathe the fresh air, see the blue sky, and admire the emerald horizon that met it.

      The Crystal Palace, too, was embraced by this moment of calm. Customers would be frequent, but not door busting, high spirited, but far from table turning. Not to mention, many were tipping generously. 

      While cleaning your section of tables, the chime attached to the door jingled.

      “Come on in and make yourself at home!” You called as you admired your spotless work. 

      “Why, thank you kindly, Dear Sister.” A voice whistled back.

      Doc poked his head into the side of your vision with a devilish grin. Kate was glued to his waist like a lace covered tick. 

      “John! What a surprise!” you stammered, “Is there somethin’ the matter?” Your skin prickled beneath your clothes. You had better odds of crossing a jackalope than Doc these days. Hell, even before your spat, not once did he come to visit you while you worked, keeping to the other businesses of Tombstone instead. You were happy to see him, as always, but you couldn’t help but have pause from his sudden appearance. Why, now, did he decide to bless you with his presence?

      “Far from it,” he replied with a slush in his voice, “Kate and I were just on a stroll when it occurred to us, we hadn’t had the chance to pay you a visit!”

      “Hope we aren’t intruding.” Kate noted with a Cheshire smile.

      “Oh, John, have you caught the fever?” you poked.

      Doc cleared his throat with a chuckle, “I am as fresh as the grass is green, I assure you.”

      Your ever aloof brother finally paid you a friendly visit. Perhaps, you thought, the fair weather had reached him too. Shame tugged at your heart for your previous assumptions as you motioned Doc and Kate in.

      “Tell me what you’d like to drink and I’ll sit you two where the gamblin’ tables are.” you smiled brightly.

      “We’ll have two glasses of whiskey on the rocks.” Doc pointed to himself and Kate.

      “I’ll be right back, then!” You assured them. 

      ‘Looks like his egg is already poached,’ you thought to yourself. The clear cubes of ice clanked at the bottom of a pair of crystalline cups. As you put the whiskey bottle to the glass’ lip, your mouth scrunched to one side. He had been, at that point, the most pleasant with you since his arrival, but it ached knowing that he was not himself and you were about to contribute to it. The whole reason he had given you the cold shoulder treatment was because of this. And now, you were willing to lean in and embrace his vice, just to be within his good graces.

      ‘Maybe I could ask him to go get some rest.’

      ‘But he and Kate are already here. And they were in a good mood for once too!’

      ‘Look at him, though. He should be at home restin’.’

      ‘Now that I think about it, there’ve been sloppier folks who came and left through those doors just fine...’

      ‘I suppose one drink won’t kill ‘em?’

      Like rolling a stone over the hilltop, as you began to pour, it became easier.

      “Sorry it took so long, I thought I lost the whiskey!” You laughed as you returned to Doc’s table.

      Mist had already condensed on the surface of the two glasses. Doc took one and swirled the amber colored liquid within it. He was enraptured by its flowing form, or its wooden, peaty aroma, or its burning flavor. Which captivated him most, if not all three, you couldn’t be sure of. His jittery hands pressed the drink to his colorless lips. Though he took a delicate sip, the act of swallowing was painful and forced. 

      “Darlin’,” he coughed. 

      “Yes, Doc?” Kate asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

      He rummaged around in his breast pocket and pulled out some spare change, “Would you kindly fetch me a cigar from the front? Cherry, please.”

      “I don’t mind gettin’ it!” you volunteered.

      Doc stiffly grabbed your hand before you could walk off. He tightly smiled, “While you’re at it, darlin’, see if you could find yourself a flavor to your likin’ as well.”

      Kate had the venomous smile of a viper as she glanced between you and Doc. Wordlessly, Doc’s partner rose from her seat and hurried off.

      Only when Kate was out of view, did Doc let out a sigh, “I do believe I owe you an apology.”

      “For what, John?” 

      “For, uh,” Doc hesitated, “for not bein’ there for you. As an older brother, that is.”

      “Where is this comin’ from?”

      “I have the same plague that took our mother and siblings. It’ll take me tomorrow or another year from now. Before it does, I want you to know how proud I am of you.” His hand still clenched yours, shaking and soggy with sweat.

      “When I came to town,” he continued, “and I asked about you, there wasn’t a soul that could give you a bad name. No one could believe that you and I fell from the same tree. Every chance they took, they asked ‘Oh the sweet one from The Crystal Palace? She’s your sister? What happened to you?’ And every time they asked, well, I couldn’t be prouder. Knowin’ that you weren’t like me.”

      You clenched your lips together and you squeezed his hand back. Your breath shook, “You don’t have to put yourself down, John. I have loved you no matter what you’ve done. I just wish that you had the courage to tell me this when you’re sober, so I know you meant it.”

      Doc nodded in a circle, “Fair enough, I’d wager. I’ll make a promise to it.”

      His bright smile contradicted the dark circles under his eyes and his pasty tone. He always made those kinds of noble promises when you two were younger, until they were too hard to keep. Then he stopped promising all together. 

      Then he just left. 

      You wanted to believe him, but all you could mutter was, “If you say so, John.”

      The sound of the door’s bell rang in your ears. You patted your brother’s back and gently placed his hand on the table. You swallowed your heart back down and took a step back from him. The sting of his cheap promises had always hurt you deeply, and for just once, you wanted him to feel it too. To simply walk off without another word.

      And yet…

      “Well, don’t take too long then.” you relented, “Pardon me, John. I have to go.”

      Doc nodded and gestured to your destination with an open palm. With that, you left Doc in peace to attend to the new customers.

      Just as you reached the front, your steps screeched to a halt. 

      Johnny and two other Cowboys, Stillwell and Barnes, awaited to be seated.

      “Oh, look! The Georgia Peach is here today!” Stillwell grinned crookedly. 

      “No coincidence there, huh, Johnny?” Barnes chuckled, nudging Johnny elbow to elbow.

      “Hey there, sweetheart. Hope you’re not too busy?” Johnny asked, giving a short wave while rubbing his back.

      “I don’t knooow~,” you noted, as you looked around the fractionally empty restaurant, “It’s very busy in here today!”

      You waved them in and led them to the bar as you rounded the other side of it.

      “So what can I get you today, boys?” you asked as you leaned on the counter.

      “I’ll just have a beer.” Johnny raised his hand.

      “Don’t worry, Peach Pie, we’ll make ourselves at home in the back.” Stillwell thumbed at himself and Barnes.

      “Behave yourselves back there, boys!” you called as you filled Johnny’s pint. 

      “We promise.~” Barnes answered as the pair made a beeline for the gambling tables.

      “And what about you, handsome? How have you been?” you asked Johnny, sliding the cold beer his way.

      Johnny drank deeply from the mug and wiped the foam from his mustache, “I’ve been alright. What about you? How’s things been here today?”

      “I’m fine, thank you. And it hasn’t been too bad here, I would’ve thought it’d have been busier. On account of the nice weather and everythin’. Have you been keepin’ yourself busy?”

“I have, now that you’ve mentioned it. Me, Bill, Barnes, and Stillwell just got back from sellin’ some cattle that we found-”

      “Uh-uh! I don’t want to know, Johnny. You know how all that makes me worry about you.” you blurted out as you cleaned another glass, “I will have none of it, sir!”

      “Well,” he raised his brows and smiled, “aren’t you a box of matches?”

      You leaned back onto the counter, “Matches? That’s a new one. And pray tell, how am I a fire starter? Just because I worry about you?”

      “Yes, that, but you’re also bright, and,” Johnny leaned in closer to you, “you light my fire.”

      You rolled your eyes and let out a short laugh, “How charmin’! Did you learn that one from Mr. Brocius?”

      “Ahem, nah. He’s not the only Cowboy around here with charm.” Johnny replied confidently as he dusted off his knuckles.

------------------

      Just moments before entering the Crystal Palace, Curly Bill Brocius grabbed his right hand man’s shoulder.

      “Remember, Juanito, you wanna sweep her off her feet! Tell her that she lights your flame.” Curly Bill stared deeply into his other hand and wiggled his fingers to resemble a wispy ember.

      “You sure?” Johnny asked suspiciously.

      “Oh yeah! It works every time, it never gets old! They love that poetry stuff, it should be easy for you. I saw you readin’ that one feller, Vir-,V-, Virgin-”

      “Virgil?”

      “That’s the spice! Now go knock her bustle off!”

      Thud!

      Johnny hissed and rubbed his back as he, Stillwell and Barnes headed inside. Curly Bill, on the other hand, sauntered off on his own to cause a ruckus elsewhere.

------------------

      “Alright then, Romeo,” you chuckled, “What else have you been up to?”

      “So,” Johnny began, gulping down his beer, “after we were done with our, uh, business, I had some cash in my pocket to spend. Went lookin’ around in an antique store and found this.”

      He slipped his hand into his coat. With the finesse of a magician, a book sprang out from underneath. ‘Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque,’ was written on its spine, even though most of it had faded off.

      “Oh my goodness, did you get me a book by Poe?” You asked, feeling the rugged cover.

      Johnny nodded proudly, “The owner of the place swore it was an original copy too. I know how much you like romance. Thought it’d be the book for you.”

      Your hand grasped your chest, “Johnny, this had to have cost an arm and a leg!”

      He shook his head, “Nah, I know the guy. I brought ‘em a few trinkets here and there.”

      You clenched the book tightly, at a loss for words. You took his hand in yours and rubbed his scar covered fingers.

      “If I’m a matchstick, you must be a gas can, cause you’re always addin’ fuel to the fire.” you managed to say.

      You both leaned in closer, practically feeling the heat radiating off each other. The drumming of your heart could be felt from your fingertips to your earlobes.

      “And you were sayin’ I was talkin’ to Bill?” Johnny softly chuckled. 

      The two of you drew in closer, and closer, and then…

      CRASH!

      The sound of shattering glass brought the whole establishment to a bitter silence. Grunting and the squealing of chairs were coming from the back of the Palace. You feared for the worst as you made a mad dash for the gambling tables. When you turned the corner, you found Stillwell, on the ground, holding Doc by the collar. Barnes stood above both men, complacently monitoring with his arms crossed. 

      Kate watched uselessly behind him, but when she noticed you she called out, “They’re hurting him! Do something!”

      Stillwell shook Doc violently while barking, “Stay out of this, Peach! This lunger son of a bitch wants to act like he’s better than everyone else!”

      You reached out to break up the two, but were pulled back by the waist. Johnny stepped forward from behind with an ice cold stare. Barnes stepped back as Johnny made his approach.

      “Drop him, Stillwell.” Johnny bellowed.

      “But Johnny, he-”

      “Drop him.” 

      Stillwell snarled at Doc one last time, before letting loose of his grip. As the Cowboy rose to his feet, Barnes came to his side and patted his shoulder. They slowly staggered out, eyes full of disappointment, as if abandoned by him. Johnny too looked down, unable to watch them leave.

      Your brow furrowed and your hands shakily clenched into tight fists. What had started out as a blueprint for the perfect day in Tombstone, crumbled apart like stale bread. You whipped around to face your brother, but he still laid on the floor, unmoving. Foam gathered at the edges of his mouth.

      “Oh my God, John!” you cried out as you slid to his side. His pulse was faint and his breathing was shallow.

      “What’s wrong?” Johnny urged.

      “I don’t know, but he needs a doctor, right now!”

      Just then, your boss stumbled in, “What in the hell’s going on here, Holliday?!”

      “Here, help me and Johnny pick him up!” you grunted as you struggled to prop Doc up into a sitting position.

      Your boss took your place at Doc’s shoulders while you and Johnny each took a leg. All together, you heaved to raise Doc from the sticky floor. Looking around to find the best option for your footing, you noticed Kate was still at the tables. She shoveled several unearned bills and chips into her purse, while everyone was distracted.

      Your mouth was left agape with disgust. Here, the supposed love of her life was, possibly dying, and all she could think about was the piles of money left unattended. You didn’t expect her to fight The Cowboys head on, or even draw that little revolver of hers, with Barnes, just as equipped, watching over the ordeal. But the least she could do, you thought, was to keep focus on her ‘loving man’ rather than the money. If Doc wasn’t at risk of dying, you knew you’d fold her with more wrinkles than any of the bills she stuck in that bag.

      “Kate!” You implored, “Go get the doctor and meet us in the break room!”

      Kate rattled her head with a nod while sloppily zipping up her bag. She rushed off in a flash, and you four barged into the breakroom, much to the shock of the unsuspecting waitresses.

      “Get the hell out of the way!” your boss shouted while you all made your way to the sofa. 

      With Doc set to rest, your boss shooed your coworkers out. Johnny and you unbuttoned Doc’s shirt and dried off his sweat, each respectively. 

      Shortly thereafter, Kate returned with the local doctor. You, Johnny, your boss, and Kate waited outside as he gathered his prognosis.

      The Doctor emerged from the breakroom rubbing his sinus. As he adjusted his glasses, he asked, hoarsely, “May I assume that you are friends and family of Mr. Holliday?”

      “Unfortunately.” Johnny crossed his arms.

      “He’s my brother.” you sighed.

      “Oh, I just work here.” your boss shrugged.

      “He’s my loving man.” Kate clasped her hands, as you sneered back at her, “Is he gonna be alright, Doctor?”

      “He’ll be fine, nothing that some sulfur and hop couldn’t fix. However, his tuberculosis has severely advanced. I’m not one to assume a patient’s life choices, but I’d wager he doesn’t normally have a restful lifestyle, which is what he needs.” 

      Johnny hissed out a sigh and you nodded shamefully, Kate stiffened with a tight lip.

      The doctor smoothed back his receded hairline, “Right then. If you want him to have any chance at living past another six months, his lavish way of living must end. My best guess is less than a month, otherwise.”

      The group was silent, Johnny squeezed your hand and rubbed his thumb against it. You squeezed back as tight as you could, turning your knuckles pale. 

      Kate broke the silence when she said, in a low voice, “Can we see him? Is he awake?”

      “Yes, he’s awake. I’d recommend keeping it short though, he needs to be taken back to a bed and rest.”

      Kate brushed past the doctor into the breakroom, she closed the door behind her and you all could hear mumbling on the other side.

      “There’s my strong stallion…” you managed to hear. 

      The doctor craned his head over to you, “You said you were his sister, correct?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Good, his condition is nothing to snub a nose at. Mr. Holliday has given himself quite the reputation in this town, for his ceaseless search for money, alcohol, and cigarettes. Even if I didn’t believe a word of it, what I observed in that room would’ve changed my opinion instantly. Do watch him, because the rumors about Mr. Holliday aren’t about him alone.” The doctor thumbed back to the breakroom door, where Kate’s giggles emitted from. 

      “Thank you, Doctor.” you nodded as you shook his hand.

      “I’ll get outta your hair too now, Holliday. You got enough to worry about, just come in tomorrow.” your boss waved, taking the doctor with him back to the front. 

      You leaned against the wall with both hands. The very air stood on your shoulders with the weight of lead. It wasn’t as if you could’ve predicted the altercation itself, but with what the doctor said in regards to his alcohol use, and how you now contributed to it, you began to feel sick, knowing that you were right and still went against your better judgment, regardless. At least if you shooed him away, your conscience would’ve been cleared of this twisting poison that you felt. It became so overwhelming you could hardly even stand, but just as you were about to collapse, a familiar set of arms held you up by your waist.

      “It’s alright, everything’s gonna be ok.” Johnny whispered as he laid his head on your shoulder.

      “I don’t know, Johnny. I don’t think it will be. John will always do what he wants… but he’s the only one I have left.”

      “Well, don’t beat yourself up over his choices. He’s living the life he chose.”

      “I know, but that doesn’t change that I want what’s best for him. You’ve wanted what was best for somebody, right?”

      He hadn’t, not for a long time. He loved The Cowboys, in the closest way to loving a family. He mourned their deaths and honored them all like brothers. But, the simple fact remained that they all knew the price of being a Cowboy. The price of the freedom they all had, ultimately, was death. If a Cowboy hadn’t been gunned down by the law, it would be because, ‘he died for living too much.’ That was it, no conscience to say he was living too lavish or too dangerously. 

      “No. I hadn’t, but I do now.” he declared. He spun you around and embraced you tightly. You heard his chest pounding like a train engine, and he clasped you so intensely that your breathing shallowed. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.” 

      Oh that Johnny, he always did have a way with words, didn’t he? Your hands gently held his face as you softly touched his forehead to yours.

      “Don’t cut yourself short there, Cowboy.” 

      He laid his chin on top of your head, frozen in thought. It all seemed so obvious then. Of course you cared for him! 

      This whole time, Johnny felt like he had to watch his own back. Afterall, who had better interest in himself, than himself. He just assumed you were disinterested in his tales, despite you telling him how worried you were. It was easier to take it that way, rather than to believe the actual truth of the matter. In these unforgiving lands, where only the strong survived, why would anyone have pity for the likes of thieves and murderers like him. 

      It was inconceivable for someone like Doc Holliday to have someone love him in the most caring and truest sense, while squandering it. Johnny was sure that if he were in Doc’s place, he would never take advantage of it. And yet, here you were, never once hiding how much you cared about him, and Johnny had been willfully blind to it. 

      He stroked your hair, kissed your forehead, and said, “Guess I’m lucky to have you too.”

      Johnny couldn’t see your grin widening as you pressed against his coat. In a way, you felt lucky too. You couldn’t have met a better friend, and, well�� maybe…

      Kate’s laugh resonated from the break room again, yanking you back from your thoughts. You could feel your shoulders droop as you released Johnny, “I should probably go find a wagon to take John home in.” Looking back towards the break room door, however, you exasperated, “I really don’t want to though.” 

      Exhaustion and guilt churned in your stomach. You wanted to take Doc home immediately so he could rest, but you didn’t want to deal with his stubbornness or his plus one all the way there. Not an hour ago, you had assumed he was well enough for at least one drink. Now, knowing him and how headstrong he is, he’d likely die within a couple of weeks. Without an ounce of shame on his face, at that. You really weren’t sure if you could keep yourself composed, should he or that- that cankerous jockey were to become unreasonable in any sense.

      Johnny could feel your frustration radiating off of you. Thinking fast, he looked around the hallway and spotted a lonely bench. He took you by the hand and sat you both on it.

      “Well, we don’t have to take him right now. A couple of minutes won’t kill ‘em.”

      Maybe he was right. Allowing you and Doc a moment of space to compose yourselves after the news was probably for the best. The only reply of acceptance you could give was to lean your head on his shoulder as Johnny wrapped his arm around yours.

------------------

      Thankfully, you were able to get Doc home without much of a fuss. Though, Johnny actively attempted to ignore both Doc and Kate, constantly reminding himself that he was helping you rather than them. All things considered, Doc had found himself oddly quiet during the trip and a couple days after. Johnny and you joked that the incident at the Crystal Palace had scared him straight. Although, in secret, you hoped it was true.

      Your boots dragged against the dirt road and your head hung in defeat. Initially, you had set off to get groceries and some suggested medication for your brother’s condition. While you were able to get the medicine, the local grocer had been robbed, again, and was closed for the day. With its closure, there was no point in staying in town. So you turned back and headed for home. 

      The suspicious stench of tobacco slinked about your front porch. If you told Kate once, you told her a thousand times, you didn’t mind if she smoked. The problem was to be sure it was away from Doc. You didn’t want his symptoms to be agitated, and you definitely didn’t want him hankerin’ for one of his vices. Perhaps another reminder was needed to set things straight.

      When you opened the front door, however, the smell grew even stronger.

      “John? Kate?” you called out. The house was quiet, pricking your nerves in its eerie silence. The floorboards groaned as you rushed over to your brother’s room. You could taste the nicotine as it flooded the air. 

      You swung Doc’s door open and were blindsided by the billowing bog of vapor. Doc laid in bed, underneath the cover, but pooled in sweat. In his hand a cigarette glowed, between his legs sat an ashtray and the ends of several others. Kate lazily leaned against him like an alley cat, her lips wrapped around a glass of liquor. 

      Your throat swelled shut as you managed to clamor, “What the hell is goin’ on here?!”

      “Well good afternoon, Sister. Glad to see shoppin’ brought you home so soon!” 

      “The grocer was robbed today.” you growled. 

      “Now ain’t that a pity,” Doc tsked as he took another drag, “Oh well, I do love whatever you make in that kitchen of yours.”

      “Enough games, John. The main reason I went to town today was to get you your medicine.” you explained, tossing the package of supplies onto his lap, “And I walk in to see you lookin’ like this. Why?”

      “I’m glad you asked.” Doc sat up more with a smile. “When I woke up this mornin’, Kate informed me that you had left for groceries. You should’ve seen it, I was right as rain. And this is how Kate and I decided to celebrate.”

      Your jaw trembled from how hard you clenched it, “John, you can’t live like this anymore. Kate, you heard the doctor, why did you bring him cigarettes and booze?”

      “If my lovin’ man says he’s feelin’ better, then he is!” Kate smirked curtly.

      Were you on the moon, in a mirror world, or had everyone gone mad?! You bit your lip hard enough to bleed, “Is that how you feel, John. Truly?”

      “Yes.” John said astutely.

      “FINE!” you exploded, the reverberation staggered both Doc and Kate. “Why should I keep carin’ when it’s obvious that you don’t care about yourself or me! All you give a damn about is money, booze and that big nosed floozy over there!”

      “Now sister! You’ve gone too-”

      WHAM!  

      You slammed the door before another word could be said.

      ‘I don’t need this,’ you said to yourself, ‘and I don’t need them either!’ Just as you were stomping out your front door, a bundle of colors caught your eye. You checked under your foot, before you stepped, and found a bouquet of colorful wildflowers, neatly stacked on top of a letter.

      You looked around, but there was no other soul to be seen. The paper crinkled as you unfolded the letter.

To Miss Holliday,

      These last couple of months with you have been some of the happiest I’ve had in years. I’ve been wanting to tell you how I’ve felt for a while now, but I could never find the words to say aloud. But I’ve thought of a poem that’ll show you what I mean.

      My sweetheart, with all the citrus

      In the needles of pine,

      How I’d give all the world’s

      Gold to make you mine.

.

      A tender sweetness than any

      Grape from the vine,

      More refreshing than water from an

      Olla; crisp and divine.

      On cold desert nights, you are

      My star that does brightly shine.

.

      Yes, my heart is captured

      Enraptured in your twine.

      So here in the sand

      Is where I draw the line.

      I have spoken from my soul

      Now I must hear you opine.

      By the end of the letter, tears had drifted onto your cheeks. A quivering smile graced your lips as you brought the letter close to your chest, eyes clenched shut. You choked down the sobs that threatened to escape your throat. Breathing through your nose slowly, you opened your eyes again with affirmation. You set the letter and flowers down on the end table next to the front door, and headed out to find Johnny.

      Marching forth with determination, you had a sense of clarity that wasn’t present since Doc’s health scare. So, to Hell with him and Kate too. Why not spend time with someone who actually appreciated you?

      While you were burning a trail towards town, Doc and Kate were still locked in shock from your outburst. He looked to the still smoldering end in his hand, then to the medical package that sat in his lap. Contempt locked his mouth to one side as he breathed out of his nostrils. He extinguished the cigarette butt, then got out of the covers.

      “What are you going to do?” Kate asked as she slid to the edge of the bed.

      “What do you think?” Doc grunted as he limped out of the room. Perhaps you were right about his condition. He had woken up just about able to jump out to bed. But now, he felt like he’d crawled out of a frozen river, with even his clothes weighing him down.

      By the time he reached the front door, he realized you were long gone. And then he saw the flowers, and underneath them, a letter. His hand was held close to his chest, failing to resist his curiosity. With a roll of his fingers, he peeled the letter open and began to read. 

      That slimy snake, Johnny Ringo. Of course he would take advantage of Sister’s good nature, he thought to himself. Nobody, but a Cowboy, a rotten crook would impose himself upon a situation that would gain him favor in some way. Doc had to do something about it.

      “Darlin’,” he called back, “get the horse and my holster.”

------------------

      The streets were heavy with people and The Cowboys watched them pass by. 

      “So Juanito,” Curly Bill spat into the sand, “how’d your girl like your poem?”

      Johnny leaned against his horse as he pondered aloud, “I don’t know. I hope she likes it though.”

      “Oh no, Johnny! You just left it? How ya gonna know what she thinks?”

      “We see each other all the time. I think she’d tell me when she’s ready.”

      “Still though, I’d want to know what my girl thought when she saw it, if it were me.” Curly Bill shrugged.

      “Looks like you’re gonna find out now, Johnny.” Ike Clanton flicked a look towards the crowd with a grin.

      You emerged from the sea of people with a shy smile. The blood in your fingers turned white from how hard you wrung them. What bravado you had, washed away when you saw the back of Johnny’s hat while you were still in the crowd. The unblinking stares of The Cowboys certainly did not help matters.

      “Hey, Matches! How you doin’?” Johnny smiled brightly.

      “Hey, Johnny! Um, do you mind if we go for a walk?”

      A couple of The Cowboys whooed and murmured amongst themselves.

      “HEY! SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!” Curly Bill hollered at his nosey onlookers before turning to you and Johnny, “Don’t mind us, we’re talkin’ about somethin’ else. Enjoy your date, Juanito!”

      Johnny’s tongue clicked as he hurried you on his horse. He snapped the reins and sped the both of you away. Whistles and cheers could be heard behind you despite Curly Bill’s efforts to stifle them.

      “They’re too much sometimes.” Johnny muttered under his breath, much to your amusement. 

      One thing you learned from your trips with Johnny, was how much nature surrounded the town. Whenever you went for a walk or a picnic, there was always a fresh field, a mountain top, or a tree’s shade to enjoy. While your first trip into the valley in bloom had a special place in your heart, it always felt like a new experience. 

      However, this was different, and you both knew it. There was a nervousness to the quietude that was so stifling, neither of you could find the courage to speak. Nature itself shared the sentiment, there were no birds singing, nor leaves rustled in the bushes.

      Click-Click

      Click-Click

      Click-Click

      The hoof steps of Johnny’s horse were ever present, however. Sounding to the beat of a keratin covered heart, the humble creature unknowingly brought you uneasiness.

      Click-Click

      Click-Click

      Click-Click

      It was unnoticeable at first, and for most of the ride. But now it was constant and its sound couldn’t be drowned out. You didn’t want to be dramatic, however with no other noise to be heard, you felt like you needed some form of relief. With a bit of hesitation, you licked the dryness from your lips. Just as you were about to ask Johnny to stop, another sound drifted in from the backdrop. 

      The white noise sounded like the dead air of a phonograph. Its fuzzy buzzing did bring calmness to you, but replaced it with curiosity. It sounded so familiar, and yet, it just escaped you. But as you drew closer, its pitter pattering rhythm had clicked all the pieces together. Running water! 

      Out from the dead and drying bushes, suddenly sprang green and vibrant foliage. As you rounded it, the source of the sudden greenage became clear. A waterfall spouted from the twisted and serpentine roots of the oasis. Even the bedrock that held up the waterfall had been molded into stalactites that were virtually indistinguishable from the plants it supported. And coating it all was a thin layer of moss that somehow prospered, despite its hellish setting. Through its various textures and forms, the environment almost became a single organism, breathing and slumbering eternal peaceful dreams.

      The shimmering emerald in the desert held you under such a spell, you had barely even noticed Johnny lowering you from his horse. At the foot of the waterfall, sat a rippling creek with turquoise water. You slipped off your boots and dipped your toes at the water’s edge. Despite the warm weather, the running water had kept the pond cool. You could have just jumped in if you had a bathing suit with you. 

      Johnny’s presence manifested behind you as he asked, “What’cha think?”

      “Johnny, it’s beautiful. How do you keep findin’ these places?”

      “I keep tellin’ ya, when ya gotta lotta free time on your hands ya just sort of stumble into them.”

      “I suppose it helps if you got know how. ‘Specially someone who sleeps outdoors regularly.”

      “I think you’d like it if you gave it a try.” Johnny nudged you.

      “Oh I would! I know I would, that’s one of the reasons why I came here. Yes, I came here when I heard of the silver mine and prospect too, but there was a sense of freedom and opportunity to this land. They say Tombstone will be just as big as Los Angeles and San Francisco in a few years, and I don’t doubt it. But to be here and see it still untamed has been breathtakin’.

      “Not to mention, you and well, even my brother are both free from the chains of city life. I may not agree with what you both do, and John, he may be flawed for sure, but I can respect livin’ by your own rules rather than what society tells you to.

      “He’s been that way since he was young, ‘specially since our mother died. Our father remarried only a couple of months after her funeral… and that never sat right with John.”

      You looked deeply into the pond and swirled your finger through it. Johnny peered into the same spot you were, almost as if he saw the memories you did reflected in it.

      “What about you?” He asked, taking a quick glance.

      “I tried to, but I suppose it never sat right with me as well. I haven’t spoken to our father since I left for Tombstone. I reckon I don’t plan on it either.

      “When John left, he would write to me all the time, tellin’ me all about his progress in dentistry. But when he was diagnosed with his condition, the same that took our mother and our other two siblings, our letters slowed to a crawl. He would promise me that one day he would pick me up and we’d be free to find our future for ourselves. But he never did, so… I did it for myself. I had hoped when I sent him that letter, that he would come and we could be a family again. But, well, uh… sorry! I’m just ramblin’ now.” you laughed in an attempt to change the subject.

      Johnny took a smooth black stone from the ground and inspected it. With a snap of his wrist he sent the stone skipping across the pond’s rippled surface. 

      “You know,” Johnny began, “I left my family when my old man passed too, guess I was a foolhardy kid. Tried to go back and see them, but they wanted no part of me either. But I don’t think they ever knew what it was like when he… uh…”

      A wave of rigidity enveloped Johnny’s form. The only true sense of life to him was seen in his darting eyes and his tongue swishing inside his cheek.

      You placed your hand on his back, “What happened?”

      “I don’t know what really happened. We were headin’ out West and found a spot to stretch our legs from being cooped in the wagon all day. He took the shotgun to make sure the spot was all clear and I trailed behind him. I don’t know if he twisted his ankle, or he held the gun too tight. When he stepped off that wagon, I heard a bang, and he was gone. Gone in a cloud of red.

      “He was a pastor. Kinda shrewd, I heard, but he meant well. He loved all of us though and tried to keep us straight laced. He’d tell us that the Lord has a plan for all of us, that there’s purpose in all of it. Well, I’m still tryna find what the purpose was in him being taken like that. If there even is a reason for all of it, that is. 

      “Seems strange for the divine to take a kid’s dad. To have him see a less deserving man’s face that way, or what was left of it anyway.

      “I guess, even more strange, is a family abandoning one of their own when he needed them most.”

      Johnny’s story pierced your heart like a steel javelin. You knew how much of a good person he could be. Sure, he could’ve made better lifestyle choices, but he certainly tried around you. Was the way in which Johnny’s family treated him the same as how you had been treating Doc? Were you pushing Doc away when he needed you most, as well? 

      Worry gripped your heart and began to strangle it. You asked yourself, ‘So, there was somethin’ more I had to do for my brother? What else could I possibly do to make him understand that somebody cares?’ Just as your mind began to spin…

      “Huh, thinkin’ over it now…” Johnny pondered aloud as he rose to skip another stone, “Maybe… I was askin’ too much of ‘em.” 

      “How do you figure that?”

      “When I left, I was still a boy and I hadn’t returned until a couple of months before you came. What I had done, for better or for worse, had all reached my folks long before I even thought about going back. I had thought that I could go back. But as far as they knew, I was a monster wearing their Johnny’s clothing. 

      “They all lost Pa that day too, and not a single one of ‘em else killed a man except for me. They continued being good, honest folk after seeing his face, like I did. They all moved on and kept believin’, and… I just couldn’t.

      “All the crimes I’ve done, not once had He struck me down for it. Made me wish He did when Ma closed the door on me. Only thing I could do then was realize that I couldn’t blame anyone except myself.”

      While you still ached for your brother, Johnny’s recollection had brought your heart a bit more at ease. You wanted to do everything you could for Doc, and even set him on the right path if you could. But the fact of the matter was, he didn’t even want to help himself. He made that very clear that morning. Regardless of your intentions, it ultimately was up to him to decide how he lived. 

      Perhaps, you pondered to yourself, Doc… wasn’t planning on living much longer. Maybe he was just planning to have a bit more fun before he was gone. The thought alone almost made you sick, and yet, if it was his choice, who were you to say otherwise, if his condition really was so unbearable? You just wished he tried more with the time he had left. 

      Glancing to your Cowboy, you concluded that, yes, you wished Doc tried more, like Johnny did.

      “Yes, you don’t always make the best choices, Johnny. Despite my worries.” you nodded as you slid your boots back on, “I don’t like where you get your money or how you get it, and I’m sure I don’t like who you get it from, either. It doesn’t make sense that you have such a good head on your shoulders and still live the life that you live. But, when you take your time out of your day to walk me to and from work, to share your interests with me and listen when I share mine, when you stood up for my womanhood, when you kept The Cowboys from hurtin’ my brother, despite what may have transpired, when you were there for me when I was told my brother was going to die, and you helped me through it, every step of the way; Mr. John Peters Ringo, I’d reckon you’d ought to keep things in perspective.”

      Johnny’s back was turned towards you, his coat billowed gently with the breeze. You awaited his response, but it was too long for your tastes. 

      You stepped up beside him and gave him a short shove with your hip, and he stumbled a few soggy steps into the water. His boots and pants were soaked and he looked to you with clenched teeth from the sudden chill. However, your smug grin ignited him like red to a bull. 

      He sprinted towards you, leaving you no time to scramble away. Scooping you up onto his shoulders, he waded back to the pond and hung you over the cold, crisp water. You squeaked as you pleaded, “Johnny Ringo, don’t you dare!” 

      That same smug grin you had was reflected on him, and then he let go. You thought you fell into the water, but the cold never came. You fluttered one eye open and saw you were still safe in his arms.

      “Got’cha, didn’t I?” he smirked down at you. A scoff and a quick slap to his chest was all the answer he needed and began walking you back to dry land.

      Before you could walk away, Johnny pulled you back to him by your wrist. Tripping over yourself, you fell into his chest. He secured you in his arms and gently hugged you.

      “Hey, thanks for all that. I needed it.” he whispered as he placed his cheek on your forehead.

      A heartfelt smile graced your lips and you settled into his embrace. Your eyes closed as you hummed, “You have been the best thing that has happened to me since I’ve met you.”

      And perhaps, that was what Johnny wanted to hear all his life, to be needed by someone as much as he needed them. You felt his breaths become heavy and strained. He gripped you so intensely, that his fingers stung your back. You felt him struggling while his throat constricted and his eyes were painfully shut tight, barely containing this flood of feeling he’d never had. 

      Though you weren’t sure if you could comprehend fully how he felt, your own heart swelled. When Johnny revealed this side of himself to you, you saw visions of primordial metaphors, messages even the most humble of beasts understood. To yearn for a touch and not just feel pain or lust. For someone else to hold his heart, whose chains wrung out his back from its weight. For another to witness the brilliance of his burning soul and not be blinded by it, that is what love is to a man.

      In time, his pain subsided and his arms unfurled from holding you. He let out a short embarrassed laugh while thumbing his nose, but you smiled genuinely. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, and you were overjoyed that he trusted you enough with such a moment.

      “I just want you to know,” he began, “it was nice to have a reason to wake up in the morning.”

      “Oh?”

      “Yeah, it was nice to wake up, wash up, and walk you to work. If I didn’t have work to do myself, I’d go back to camp and read something you got for me. Then when the day ended, I looked forward to walking you home and doing it all again the next day. Before you came along, I didn’t find myself the chance to read as much as I wanted to, even though it was my favorite pastime. Really, I didn’t have a reason for much of anything until you got here.”

      For a man who seemed to live by his own rules, it sounded like he put a lot of effort into making his schedule around you.

      “It’s nice workin’ at the Crystal Palace,” you nodded, meeting his green eyes to yours, “everyday is a new adventure. It’s always another cast of colorful characters. But, my favorite part of the day, too, was gettin’ to see you at the end of my shift every time.”

      An invisible force, beyond your comprehension, pulled you both together. Once again, you shared an embrace with both of your hearts pulsing to the same beat.

      “So,” Johnny whispered into your ear, “what did you think about my letter?”

      “Did you mean it?” you whispered back.

      “Every word of it.”

      “Then…” you concluded as you motioned his face in front of yours, “let me hear you say it.”

      “I love you.”

      “I love you too.”

      Though the sun still stood in the sky, you swore you saw stars through your kiss. The waterfall became soundless and you could see the individual flaps of a butterfly’s fluttering wings. As your eyes closed, an energy resonated through your body that was impossible to describe. It was like warming your hands next to a stove after a cold snap, or a refreshing drink after a blistering day. 

      The area around his mouth was abrasive, stinging your lips when you missed his, but tickling when you landed on his mustache. His lips, on the other hand, were soft and tender. You found it similar to biting into a prickly pear. Even if the spines were removed, the surface could still be bristly. However, the fruit itself, sweet and invigorating. 

      Your hands snaked up towards his shoulders, and as he adjusted himself to accommodate you, his hat fell to his back, revealing his fine, satiny hair. Running your fingers through it, to your surprise, it was hardly as coarse as you thought it’d be. To the contrary, it was like silk, feathery even.

      Your attention was brought to his hands when he tightly grasped your arms. His fingers seemed almost wooden, from a life hard lived. And yet, despite this, his touch was loving, and much more adoring than they would imply. He reached lower, strumming up and down your back, causing you to shiver.

      When Johnny held your arms, he felt goosebumps forming on your skin. Despite the long, hard hours you worked, to him, you still seemed delicate, and he took extra care to be gentle. You felt cold to his touch, but as he continued to hold you, he could feel your heat from your heart resonating underneath.

      Closing his eyes as well, Johnny saw flashes of red emerging from the darkness. The experience reminded him of fireworks without the smell of gunpowder.

      It transfixed Johnny with fascination, as it was like the mechanical components of the entire universe ticked along like cogs in a clock. And like such a complex mechanism, reaching its apex point at the twelfth hour, so too did the stars and planets align for that moment. Once the moment passed, these components resumed their typical functions, and normality returned.

      When your eyes opened again, the sun had turned the sky orange and purple. You released yourselves from that explosive moment, while panting and with wobbly legs. You leaned into each other, gathering your bearings, when you touched one another’s forehead in consolidation.

      Vulnerability swept over you, like a herbivore fleeing from the hunt. Your stomach was dropping as if you were staring off the edge of a cliff. Despite feeling this instinctual sensation, however, the thrill only made you desperately want to go back and continue where you left off with him. Perhaps just… a bit more, even?

      Such intrusive thoughts added shame to your already stewing goulash of emotions. You weren’t that kind of girl, so why were you in such a conflict with yourself?

      Johnny had a glint in his eye as he, too, hungered for more. Yet, your indecisiveness was palpable. He rubbed his neck and clenched his teeth, as he smoothed his hair back up for his hat. When his lady fair is ready, after all.

      You, on the other hand, weren’t looking to spoil the mood. Even then, when you stepped forward, motioning him with a tilt of your head, his gaze softened. The glint from his eyes vanished and he shook his head slowly.

      “We ain’t gotta.” he hummed as he placed his hands on your shoulders, kissing your forehead.

      The boiling cauldron of emotions was extinguished by his integrity. Its weight, all of it, vanished. Your mouth twisted up into a sheepish, yet grateful, smile, “Thank you.”

      He nodded with a half grin of his own. Needing to satiate himself somehow, Johnny pulled out a cigarette and match. As the black smoke filled his lungs, he leaned against a rock and waved for you to sit on a stone right next to him.

      The stone’s cold surface made your body clench when you took a seat upon it. Once again, silence had bewitched the both of you. While the silence was once welcomed, it seemed that recently, there was always tension within it. You had thought, once you both have had your feelings for each other recognized, that the heaviness would subside. Yet, there you were, the question popped, and it felt like you were still at the starting line.

      It was so asinine, so absurd… that you started to laugh.

      “What is it?” Johnny asked, catching your contagious chuckle.

      “What are we doin’, Johnny?” you happily sighed.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Why are we actin’ like a pair of school children?”

      Johnny paused for a moment, then replied, “I guess, for me, it was ‘cause I never had something like this before.”

      You nodded, “That’s fair, I can’t say that I’m not in the same boat. But let’s not waste time worryin’, when we can be enjoyin’ ourselves as we did before today.”

      Johnny sighed with smoke pooling from his nostrils, “Yeah. I can get behind that.”

      He leaned further back onto the rock he perched himself upon and looked up to the first stars of the sky. 

      “So,” Johnny inquired, “know any of them constellations?”

      “Only a couple of the big ones, The Dippers, Orion, and such. Ever dabbled with zodiacs and horoscopes?”

      He pshawed, “I don’t believe in that hogwash.”

      “I didn’t say I believed in it! I just think it’s fun, is all.” You insisted with a light push. 

      Your combined laughter trailed into the wind, and you continued to enjoy each other’s companionship, while there was still light in between the stars.

------------------

      The purple and orange sky had long since vanished into the night. Outside of a few gaslit street lamps, Tombstone was surprisingly absent of the usual nightlife. There weren’t even any lights coming from your own cottage upon your approach.

      Nevertheless, the eeriness of it all couldn’t take away the wonderful time you had with Johnny. In fact, the solitude of the sleeping town had its own charm, in a way. It was as if the two of you were the only inhabitants of the entire town; or the entire world, at that. 

      You tiptoed up your porch with Johnny trailing behind. You weren’t trying to attract any unwanted attention to yourself and him, nor disturb anyone within your own household.

      “Why are we being so mousy?” Johnny whispered.

      “We’re not, I just don’t want to be rude.” you assured him as you pulled out your house key, carefully unlocking the door. “It’s very late, are you sure you wouldn’t want to stay in one of my spare rooms?”

      “That’s nice of you. But I’d rather not, I don’t want problems with your brother in the morning.”

      You were disappointed, but more so, you felt guilty for Johnny. You felt as though he shouldn’t have had to be at the mercy of Doc’s whims, especially since it was your house at the bottom line. Relenting the thought, you gave Johnny a tight hug while sighing, “Well, be safe on your way back to camp, you hear?”

      “I’ll try.” Johnny teased as he placed one last kiss on your lips.

      After a deep hug, you shared your goodbye’s and waved as Johnny galloped off into the sleepy desert. 

      Sneaking past the front door, you shuffled into the front room, stepping over the floorboards that creak. Before you could make it to your room, a presence within the room froze your blood cold.

      “Good evenin’, sister.”

      A piercing scream rang out from your throat, as you jumped towards the door. Your eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, when you finally recognized the voice.

      “John? What are you doin’ sittin’ here in the dark… again?” you asked with a hand clenching your heart.

      “Waitin’ for my Dear Sister’s return, again.” Doc noted while lighting a lantern, “You were out for a long time with Johnny Ringo, I presume.”

      “You would presume correct.” you replied, crossing your arms. ‘I suppose it was a blessin’ in disguise that Johnny decided against stayin’.’

      Though expressionless, you saw Doc’s grip tightening on the arm of the sofa, “I presume you both waltzed off as friends, again?”

      “Not anymore.”

      “Come again?”

      “Unlike my own brother, and his tramp, Johnny tries his best by me. He always had, and…” you sucked in a mouthful of air, “and I love him for it.”

      Doc arose from his chair slowly and blinked with the eyes of a cold-blooded crocodile. With nothing else to say, he slithered back into his den, without another sound.

      This small victory could’ve lifted you off the floor with joy. ‘If only Johnny was here to see it!’ you thought as you blew out the lantern for the night.

Hey! Just so you guys know, I have a Ko-Fi available. If you guys enjoy my work, please don’t hesitate in supporting my stuff by buying me a Coffee.🤠

[babyrdie]

More Deidamia posting!!!

And Pyrrhus is no longer a country boor nor yet growing strong amid filth like brawling sons of herdsmen, but already he is a soldier. For he stands leaning on a spear and gazing towards the ship; and he wears a purple mantle brought up from the tip of the shoulder over to his left arm and a white tunic that does not reach the knee; and though his eye is flashing, it is not so much the eye of a man in full career as of one still holding back and vexed at the delay; and his mind images something of what will happen a little later in Ilium. His hair now, when he is at rest, hangs down his forehead, but when he rushed forward it will be in disorder, following, as it tosses to and fro, the emotions of his spirit. The goats skipping about unchecked, the straying herds, and the shepherd’s staff with its crook lying among them where it has been thrown imply some such story as this, my boy: – Vexed with his mother and his grandfather for being kept on the island, since after the death of Achilles in fear for the boy they had sworn that Pyrrhus should not depart, he set himself over the goats and kine, subduing the bulls that scorned the herd – the bulls that may be seen on the mountain at the right. But when the oracle came to the Greeks that Troy would be captured by none other than the descendants of Aeacus, Phoenix is sent to Scyros to fetch the boy, and putting ashore he encounters him, each unknown to the other except in so far as the boy’s graceful and well-grown form suggested that he was Achilles’ son. And as soon as Phoenix recognized who he was, he himselfbe came known to Lycomedes and Deiodameia. All this is what art would teach us by means of this small picture, and it is so painted as to furnish to poets also a theme for song.

Imagines, Image 1. Translation by Arthur Fairbanks.

A thousand times he kissed her, then at last left her alone with her own grief and moan there in her father's halls. As o'er her nest a swallow in her anguish cries aloud for her lost nestlings which, mid piteous shrieks, a fearful serpent hath devoured, and wrung the loving mother's heart; and now above that empty cradle spreads her wings, and now flies round its porchway fashioned cunningly lamenting piteously her little ones: so for her child Deidameia mourned now on her son's bed did she cast herself, crying aloud, against his door-post now she leaned, and wept: now laid she in her lap those childhood's toys yet treasured in her bower, wherein his babe-heart joyed long years agone. She saw a dart there left behind of him, and kissed it o'er and o'er yea, whatso else her weeping eyes beheld that was her son's.

Posthomerica, 7.347-363. Translation by A.S. Way.

[...] The son of Achilles is named Neoptolemus by Homer in all his poetry. The epic poem, however, called Cypria says that Lycomedes named him Pyrrhus, but Phoenix gave him the name of Neoptolemus (young soldier) because Achilles was but young when he first went to war.

Description of Greece, 10.26.4. Translation by W.H.S. Jones.

‘So he spoke, and I again said to him in answer: “I have no report to give you of stately Peleus, but as for your beloved son Neoptolemos, I will tell you, since you ask me to do it, all the true story; for I myself, in the hollow hull of a balanced ship, brought him over from Skyros, to join the strong-greaved Achaians. Whenever we, around the city of Troy, talked over our counsels, he would always speak first, and never blunder. In speaking only godlike Nestor and I were better than he was. And when we Achaians fought in the Trojan plain, he never would hang back where there were plenty of other men, nor stay with the masses, but run far out in front, giving way to no man for fury, and many were those he killed in the terrible fighting. I could not tell over the number of all nor name all the people he killed as he fought for the Argives, but what a great man was one, the son of Telephos he slew with the brazen spear, the hero Eurypylos, and many Keteian companions were killed about him, by reason of womanish presents. Next to great Memnon, this was the finest man I ever saw. Again, when we who were best of the Argives entered the horse that Epeios made, and all the command was given to me, to keep close hidden inside, or sally out from it, the other leaders of the Danaans and men of counsel were wiping their tears away and the limbs were shaking under each man of them; but never at any time did I see him losing his handsome color and going pale, or wiping the tears off his face, but rather he implored me to let him sally out of the horse; he kept feeling for his sword hilt and spear weighted with bronze, full of evil thoughts for the Trojans. But after we had sacked the sheer citadel of Priam, with his fair share and a princely prize of his own, he boarded his ship, unscathed; he had not been hit by thrown and piercing bronze, nor stabbed in close-up combat, as often happens in fighting. The War God rages at all, and favors no man.”

The Odyssey, 11.504-537. Translation by Richmond Lattimore.

You see, I usually think that Deidamia was simply relieved by Neoptolemus' return, since she was convinced that he would die like Achilles. However, when I look at these two passages in particular, I can't help but think that she still lost him, even if not physically. The same boy who grew up among shepherds' children, who played with silly toys and who had an innocent name like Phyrrus isn't the same person who returned after committing unspeakable acts of violence, who delights in the suffering of others and who has a completely different name that is also associated with war (Neoptolemus). He used to be someone who ran on the grass, who laughed with other boys, who spent time with animals, who had fun with his toys, and whose name simply represented his beautiful red hair. How does a boy like that so quickly become the warrior that Odysseus described? He isn't the same person who runs in a foreign land, who boasts with other soldiers as he boasts of his victories, whose animals he now uses in chariots, who revels in death, and whose name represents how young this soldier is.

It becomes even more shocking when reading Sophocles’ Philoctetes, because in this play Neoptolemus is clearly still in transition. He is hungry for glory, and Odysseus manipulates him because he knows about this desire, yes, but he still risks his glory for values. He is willing to disgrace Odysseus and thus lose his chances of glory because helping Philoctetes is the right thing to do. Philoctetes is convinced to go to Troy not by Neoptolemus, but by Heracles (he appears shortly after Neoptolemus and Philoctetes agree to give up, claiming that this isn't their destiny).

NEOPTOLEMUS: I recognize what's best for you and me. PHILOCTETES: When you say that, you don't feel any shame before the gods? NEOPTOLEMUS: How can a man feel shame when he's helping out a friend of his? PHILOCTETES: Are you talking about some benefit for me or for the sons of Atreus? NEOPTOLEMUS: For you, of course. I'm your friend. What I say is spoken in friendship. PHILOCTETES: How can that be true? You want to hand me to my enemies. NEOPTOLEMUS: My dear man, in such troubles you must learn not to be so stubborn. PHILOCTETES: You'll ruin me with these words of yours. I know that. NEOPTOLEMUS: No, I won't. But you don't understand — that's what I'm saying. PHILOCTETES: Don't I understand how those sons of Atreus threw me aside? NEOPTOLEMUS: Yes, they cast you off, but you should see if they will rescue you again. PHILOCTETES: Never! Not if I must agree to go to Troy. NEOPTOLEMUS: What can I do then, if what I say will not convince you? The easiest thing for me is to say no more, and then you can go on living as you're doing now, without being rescued. PHILOCTETES: Let me keep suffering whatever I must suffer. But those things you swore to me, with your right hand in mine — to take me home — do that for me, my son, and don't hold back or keep reminding me about Troy any more. I've had enough of howling lamentations here. NEOPTOLEMUS: All right, if that's what you truly want, let's leave. PHILOCTETES: Ah, such noble words! [PHILOCTETES starts to move down from his cave] NEOPTOLEMUS: Plant your feet firmly. PHILOCTETES: I will — as firmly as my strength allows. NEOPTOLEMUS: How will I escape being blamed for this by the Achaeans? PHILOCTETES: Forget about those men. NEOPTOLEMUS: What if they destroy my country? PHILOCTETES: I'll be there... NEOPTOLEMUS [interrupting] What assistance will you give? PHILOCTETES: ...with these arrows which come from Hercules... NEOPTOLEMUS: What are you saying? PHILOCTETES: I'll stop them coming in. NEOPTOLEMUS: Then let's depart, once you have bid your island home farewell.

Philoctetes. Translation by Ian Johnston.

And Neoptolemus believes that this is being like his father.

NEOPTOLEMUS: Son of Laertes, I hate to carry out an order which it hurts to listen to. It's not my nature to do anything based on deceit. My father, so they say, was just the same. But I am prepared to take the man by force, no trickery. He's just one man on foot. He'll never win against so many of us in a fight. Since I was ordered here to work with you, I am not eager to be called disloyal. Still, my lord, I would much prefer to fail in something honorable, than to win out with treachery.

Philoctetes. Translation by Ian Johnston.

He really does become like his father, but in a different way. In a way, isn’t the father he knows the father Deidamia, her sisters, and Lycomedes knew? After all, what he knows about him probably comes mostly from them, though news of the war and rumors certainly reach them. And like it or not, wasn’t the Achilles these people knew a different person? In a way, the person Deidamia was mourning isn't even really the same boy she met 10 years ago. There are similarities, yes, but the same? Is he the same boy who, as in that poem attributed to Bion of Smyrna, sat with her in the moonlight, took her hands and praised her for weaving so well?

Dedamia mourned the death of a man she no longer knew and rejoiced at the return of a boy she no longer knew. Seeing things from her point of view…it's just horrible.

[starjane312]

Kit Tanthalos x OC

Big Masterlist

Masterlist

Chapter 8

J: This is a Big ass waste of time.

K: Oh Really ?

I look at her.

J: No need to get Sassy now.

K: Sorry I’m just Upset.

I hug her.

J: It’s ok. I’m too. Let’s go.

Kit nods in my Shoulder. I give her a Kiss on the Head and let her go.

Ja: And where do you think you’re going ?

K: To the Shattered Sea.

Ja: Alone ?

J: You’re More than Welcome to Join us.

K: But we’re sure as hell not waiting around for Muffin Girl to learn to pick the Right finger.

Jade stops in front of us.

Ja: Okay. Her name is Elora Danan, and we owe her our Allegiance.

K: Says Willow.

Ja: She bears the Mark.

K: Maybe he put it there.

J: It wasn’t there before. And even if it was Raziel.

K: How do we know she didn’t mark a bunch of Babies ?

J: Maybe you have one too ?

K: Maybe You’re Elora Danan.

B: Maybe I’m Elora Danan.

I look at Boorman who puts his head in a Bucket and then looks at us.

B: Always thought there was something special inside me.

He walks to us.

Ja: You don’t believe it either.

B: It’s not that I don’t believe it, as much as I don’t Really care. 

I look at Kit who Nods. We both get on our Horses.

Ja: So, you have a better idea how to save the Prince ?

B: Oh, I’m bursting for the Better Ideas. But first I recommend that we Split, before miss chosen face catches Wind and decides to follow.

G: You shouldn’t do that.

Boorman Jumps surprised. I look at Graydon.

J: Lurk Much ?

G: She is Elora Danan. I’m sure of it.

K: How can you provide me one shred of Evidence that proves she’s capable of Literally anything.

J: Magical or not ?

W: Idiots ! Nincompoops ! Where is she ?

J: Yo, what’d you just call us ?

G: Elora ?

Ja: We thought she was with you.

I roll my Eyes and Look at Kit. She has the same look. Great, she ran away. Again.

W: This right here is why no one’s allowed above the Ground ever.

K: Relax she’s probably just frolicking in a meadow somewhere nearby.

W: Oh Yeah, forgot you’re Hilarious. You and your Friend are also being awfully cavalier with the fate of the World Princess.

I raise my eyebrows. Did he just call me her friend ? Thought we were obvious enough.

W: Now think about this for a Moment. Everyone you’ve ever Cared about will be made to serve the power behind the Crone and their only hope of escaping that nightmare is now wandering around in the Woods !

I sigh.

S: Stay in Pairs. Let’s spread out.

Jade starts walking too.

K: Where are you going ?

Ja: To look for her. But you two just do what you want. You always do. 

She walks off. I turn Moon around and look over my shoulder to Kit.

J: Let’s go.

She nods. And starts riding.

J: Maybe she’s also on the way.

K: I hope not.

After we’ve crossed the Woods and arrive by the Mountains. From there on we walk. Moon and Eclipse walk in front of us. I hold Kit’s hand.

K: You really think they’ll come after us ?

J: Elora won’t stay with the Nelwyn. She loves Aryk. 

K: What would you’ve done if I was taken ?

J: Oh I would have panicked a lot. Then I would’ve Panicked even More and then I wouldn’t stop till I found you. Especially considering your Condition.

Kit stops and Looks at me.

K: Did you just call our Baby a condition ?

I lay my hands on her Hips.

J: I didn’t mean it like that. But I worry all the time. What if we don’t get back on Time or you get Hurt ? I won’t be able to Forgive myself if you get hurt when I could’ve prevented it. And I won’t let anything Bad Happen to you.

Kit looks at me with Tears in her eyes.

K: Don’t you dare to get yourself killed to keep me safe.

J: If I have to I would.

K: Please don’t.

She gives me a Kiss. I smile at her.

J: Let’s keep walking.

After a few minutes we hear other Horses. We stop and look back.

J: Told you.

Kit nudges my side. Boor man gets off his Horse. And walks next to us.

B: Wow, you really Covered some distance.

K: I’m really not in the Mood for Banter.

B: Ah, that’s a shame. You know I want you two to know I’m with you. I’m not with them.

We both look at Boorman.

B: I was coming to find you. But, uh, it just so happens we’re all going the same road so I, I duped them into thinking that I’m with them. The truth is I’m with.

J: Yeah.

K: We get the Gist.

B: You know Despite what you may’ve heard I’m not actually a thief by Trade. I’m what you might call an Obtainer of Rare artifacts.

K: Grave Robber.

B: Hmm. Treasure Hunter. And I became this, because when I was about your Age someone told me the Legend of the Kymerian Cuirass.

J: The Kymerian Cuirass ?

B: Yeah. The Cuirass. A legendary Armor …

K: Yeah we know what that is.

B: Kinda changed my Life.

I look at him. 

K: And so, you wasted it ?

J: Searching for a Magical Breastplate that somebody told you in a Bedtime Story ?

K: Yeah that’s like the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

B: No. Your Father and your Brother Jane, They didn’t think it was sad. No, they spend Five years searching the world for it. I know ‘cause I was with them. I was your dads, Squire.

K: So, what ? You’re telling me you know what happened to them ?

Kit’s grip on my Hand tightens.

B: Oh yeah. They found it.

We stop walking. Boorman doesn’t.

K: Huh ?

Moon and Eclipse walk to us. We get up and keep riding ahead of the others. On the way I see Rabbits. I grab Kits Bow and shoot two of them.

K: Oh, really ?

J: What ? We gotta eat something, don't we ?

I get off Moon, pick them up, pull the Arrows out and bind the Rabbits to Moon's saddle. Then I catch up with the others. When the sun starts to go down, we make Camp. After eating we sit down by the Fire. I sit behind Kit learning on Moons saddle. She’s laying in my Arms and we listen to Willow and Elora Talk.

[elenasunshinemagazine]

7 Ways to cope with criticism and get benefits

There are hardly any people who love criticism in their addresses. But this is a great opportunity for our growth and development, the main thing is to learn how to handle it correctly.

Traditionally, criticism is divided into constructive and non-constructive.

When we are criticized unconstructively, the form in which critical remarks are clothed comes to the fore. These are personal negative assessments, accusations, claims, and without arguments and specifics. The opponent generalizes the reason and inflates the essence of the problem to universal proportions: everything is bad, you have done nothing, nothing works, everything is wrong.

To cope with such criticism and benefit from it, we will analyze the source and cause of the attacks.

Method 1. Do not accept criticism from incompetent people and boors

We are sometimes criticized by people who are incompetent or simply ill-mannered. The goals are pursued very differently: to rise at our expense, to thwart evil, to blame, to shift responsibility to us, and to emotionally discharge. You should not accept such criticism.

Do not tolerate rudeness, insults, or provocations. You don't have to like everyone, especially illiterate boors and critics. It's better to just leave and not communicate. If it does not work out, then benefit from this situation: train a philosophical attitude to life, harden the psyche, and develop a healthy indifference to gratuitous accusations.

Method 2. Separate the form from the content

Sometimes people do not know how to criticize correctly and effectively, that is, reasonable comments are clothed in the form of claims, negative personal assessments, and emotional attacks. To benefit from such a situation, it is important for us to learn to ignore the form and pay attention to the essence, to cope with emotions, and to translate accusations from a claim into a constructive one. Specify exactly what the problem is, what exactly you did wrong, and what is bad and wrong. If the criticism is justified, recognize its content, not its form. Focus on finding a solution.

The use of such criticism is to train emotional stability and develop the ability to separate the main thing from the secondary.

Constructive criticism contains comments on the substance, in a friendly form, without going to the person. It stimulates personal and professional growth and development and focuses on solving, not on the problem and finding the culprit.

Method 3. Accept criticism with dignity

If the criticism is good and constructive, accept it with gratitude and use it wisely. If it is not constructive or does not suit you for some other reasons, do not be indignant and shower the critic with abuse. Be polite, stay calm, tell the critic who has already tuned in to the negative "Thank you, I will take this into account", and continue to move forward. You absolutely should not get upset and annoyed because of other people's words, allowing them to poison the rest of your day.

Remember – you are the champion and always have been, so keep winning!

Method 4. Focus on the solution and conclusions, not on the problem

If the criticism is fair, accept it and admit mistakes, and focus on correcting them. When you solve the problem, analyze the situation, answer yourself what could be improved or changed, what you have learned, and how and where else you can use it.

The essence of critical comments refers to our knowledge and skills, behavior, or attitude toward people or situations. If we have written a report incompletely, illiterate, and with errors, then we lack knowledge in this area and the skills to analyze and structure information. And we conclude that it is necessary to learn more and acquire the necessary competencies. If we are criticized for passing the report at the last second or breaking the deadline, it is important for us to master the techniques of time management and change the usual behavior strategies.

The problem is that we had to take into account the opinions of all the team members, and we didn't listen to anyone and did everything in our own way. Then we should learn to appreciate and take into account the contribution of everyone and change the attitude towards colleagues and teamwork.

Thus, the benefit of constructive criticism is the opportunity to see weaknesses, and blind spots, and grow professionally and personally.

Method 5. Cope with emotional reactions.

If everything is fine with your self-esteem, then you will not pay attention to the boor or you will instantly forget about him. If you are offended by this, perhaps you should work on your self-esteem and your own emotional stability. Attacks in your address should be perceived as training situations.

But sometimes we are even offended by comments on the case, expressed in the most friendly and polite form. No one insults us, accuses or humiliates us, but in a calm manner, they show us what is wrong and how it would be better to do it. Why do we still get offended or upset?

This is where our inner critic comes into play, the most severe and ruthless of all critics in the world. We wind ourselves up stronger than any boor or strict boss. You screwed up! Shame on you! You can't even do such an elementary thing, let alone something serious! You are worthless, you are a loser! And so on, and so on. If you are familiar with such internal dialogues, you react emotionally to any criticism in any form, and most likely, you strive to avoid it.

The reasons for such destructive dialogues are low self-esteem and excessive demands on yourself. You doubt yourself and at the same time strive to be perfect. You connect your own assessment of yourself, a unique, multifaceted personality, with the results of one particular case, situation, or act. Therefore, even the slightest remark hits you very painfully.

Everyone makes mistakes. Just admit it. Everything means everything, including you. Allow yourself to make mistakes sometimes, accept it simply as a human quality, and do not go into personality with yourself. The next time someone makes a critical remark to you, do not give your inner critic freedom. Stop. I am a human being and I have the right to make mistakes. And now I will take into account what I am told, and focus on solving the problem, and not on empty self-flagellation.

Another situation is that we have too good an opinion of ourselves, so we take any criticism with hostility. In this case, we look for reasons outside and blame anyone, but not ourselves. I did everything right, it was the secretary who messed up everything. I'm a professional, I know better, it's not for you to teach me. However, this is only the reverse side of the same self-doubt.

By increasing your self-esteem and learning to take criticism calmly, you will become more confident in yourself and achieve your goals easier.

Method 6. Translate knowledge into action

Regardless of whether you managed to ignore baseless criticism see a mistake and find a solution, determine a growth zone, or cope with a destructive emotional reaction, it is important to consolidate the experience gained. Answer yourself, what helped you in this situation? In what other situations will you use this approach? How can you prevent such mistakes from happening again?

How will you work out the growth zones? How will you cope with emotions? Come up with three simple steps that will help transform new knowledge and experience into useful habits for dealing with criticism. And start acting right now. Then any criticism will benefit you.

Method 7.  Develop the ability to respond to criticism

Often people feel confused when they encounter it. They don't know how to answer, that's why they are so afraid of other people's ratings. But you can thank a person for the right comments. And if they are wrong, or unfair, answer specifically, or clearly, do not try to justify yourself or defend yourself.

Sometimes the factor of liking or disliking also matters. Therefore, it is important to agree with yourself and understand that even if you do something outstanding, and very valuable, do it with talent, from the heart, there will still be someone who will not like it. The one who will condemn, devalue, and criticize. This happens because some people tend to believe that they know how to live, think, express, or not express themselves.

Tolerance to criticism, the ability to perceive it, cope with it, and distinguish constructive criticism from toxic criticism are very important skills for life. At a time when one person takes constructive comments, finds valuable moments in them, and uses them for his own good, the other will be offended and feel hurt.

https://elenasunshinemagazine.com/mental-health/7-ways-to-cope-with-criticism-and-get-benefits/

[froyocorp]

talking abt the cog ocs i posted today bc aughhhuu (<- has excitment that cannot be contained) putting it under the cut bc its long but heres the basic run downs of em all bc i never said anything abt em

baggage handler aka porter shes like my Main cog oc ig. she runs a hotel called the cutting suite floor in acorn acres and shes both the head of vacations for the company and their budget therapist. Therapy includes her going "awe :( that sucks. heres a free check in for a relaxing day at our hotel ^_^ Can you get back to work now" she is ALSO shipped with erclaim bc im a loser and i think he just stays in her hotel "haunting" it after being fired. she loves his pathetic swag

the bellhop boys aka moe larry and curtis are all walking stooges references. theres not much more to them theyre like porters very own satellite investors and they all annoy porter very much

goldbricker aka riley is a liar !!! scammer !!!!!!! his storyline is that he steals jellybeans from the toon bank and is trying to sell them back to toons at a higher price, as well as selling them to cogs as they are valuable (to toons. Not to cogs.) hes trying to run a ponzi scheme but no ones buying it rlly. hes also got the midas touch thing going on i legit think he actually can turn anything into gold bars so any attack he'd hold an item with, the model is golden & the attack is buffed

crown prosecutor aka princess marilyn no im not typing out her full name Shes just based on mary sue culture but i mean it so lovingly. shes a cog princess from "suitsor" and shes probably definitely 100% british. shes like a glorified name dropper as in she knows every manager somehow from past work or past schooling. she rolls her R's also shes so himedere so queen deltarune coded

aaand copyeditor aka tina shes so small so tiny so cutes. its one of them its/hers, has a cane, and is mute but in a cog way - her gimmick is she wouldn't have her own sfx! if shes speaking dialogue, its other cog's sfx and dialogue (eg., it would do an attack but say a holly voiceline - "oh looketh, a burnt boor" - and then next attack do a dave voiceline - "better not dance cold on my floor") she could probably stitch together voicelines like a tf2 old sfm. i cant pin down in my head if she hates toons or is neutral about them, as it never gives opinion unless it can parrot what someone else thinks that she agrees with at that moment, so i think its funny to think no one knows how well she performs bc shes so quiet

[onenakedfarmer]

DANTE ALIGHIERI Inferno - Canto XVII

"LO! the fell monster with the deadly sting! Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls And firm embattled spears, and with his filth Taints all the world!" Thus me my guide address'd, And beckon'd him, that he should come to shore, Near to the stony causeway's utmost edge.

Forthwith that image vile of fraud appear'd, His head and upper part expos'd on land, But laid not on the shore his bestial train. His face the semblance of a just man's wore, So kind and gracious was its outward cheer; The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws Reach'd to the armpits, and the back and breast, And either side, were painted o'er with nodes And orbits. Colours variegated more Nor Turks nor Tartars e'er on cloth of state With interchangeable embroidery wove, Nor spread Arachne o'er her curious loom. As ofttimes a light skiff, moor'd to the shore, Stands part in water, part upon the land; Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor, The beaver settles watching for his prey; So on the rim, that fenc'd the sand with rock, Sat perch'd the fiend of evil. In the void Glancing, his tail upturn'd its venomous fork, With sting like scorpion's arm'd. Then thus my guide: "Now need our way must turn few steps apart, Far as to that ill beast, who couches there."

Thereat toward the right our downward course We shap'd, and, better to escape the flame And burning marle, ten paces on the verge Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive, A little further on mine eye beholds A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand Near the wide chasm. Forthwith my master spake: "That to the full thy knowledge may extend Of all this round contains, go now, and mark The mien these wear: but hold not long discourse. Till thou returnest, I with him meantime Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe The aid of his strong shoulders." Thus alone Yet forward on the' extremity I pac'd Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe Were seated. At the eyes forth gush'd their pangs. Against the vapours and the torrid soil Alternately their shifting hands they plied. Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round.

Noting the visages of some, who lay Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire, One of them all I knew not; but perceiv'd, That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch With colours and with emblems various mark'd, On which it seem'd as if their eye did feed.

And when amongst them looking round I came, A yellow purse I saw with azure wrought, That wore a lion's countenance and port. Then still my sight pursuing its career, Another I beheld, than blood more red. A goose display of whiter wing than curd. And one, who bore a fat and azure swine Pictur'd on his white scrip, addressed me thus: "What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know, Since yet thou livest, that my neighbour here Vitaliano on my left shall sit. A Paduan with these Florentines am I. Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming 'O haste that noble knight! he who the pouch With the three beaks will bring!'" This said, he writh'd The mouth, and loll'd the tongue out, like an ox That licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stay He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long, Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn'd.

My guide already seated on the haunch Of the fierce animal I found; and thus He me encourag'd. "Be thou stout; be bold. Down such a steep flight must we now descend! Mount thou before: for that no power the tail May have to harm thee, I will be i' th' midst."

As one, who hath an ague fit so near, His nails already are turn'd blue, and he Quivers all o'er, if he but eye the shade; Such was my cheer at hearing of his words. But shame soon interpos'd her threat, who makes The servant bold in presence of his lord.

I settled me upon those shoulders huge, And would have said, but that the words to aid My purpose came not, "Look thou clasp me firm!"

But he whose succour then not first I prov'd, Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft, Embracing, held me up, and thus he spake: "Geryon! now move thee! be thy wheeling gyres Of ample circuit, easy thy descent. Think on th' unusual burden thou sustain'st."

As a small vessel, back'ning out from land, Her station quits; so thence the monster loos'd, And when he felt himself at large, turn'd round There where the breast had been, his forked tail. Thus, like an eel, outstretch'd at length he steer'd, Gath'ring the air up with retractile claws.

Not greater was the dread when Phaeton The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven, Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames; Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceiv'd, By liquefaction of the scalded wax, The trusted pennons loosen'd from his loins, His sire exclaiming loud, "Ill way thou keep'st!" Than was my dread, when round me on each part The air I view'd, and other object none Save the fell beast. He slowly sailing, wheels His downward motion, unobserv'd of me, But that the wind, arising to my face, Breathes on me from below. Now on our right I heard the cataract beneath us leap With hideous crash; whence bending down to' explore, New terror I conceiv'd at the steep plunge: For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear: So that all trembling close I crouch'd my limbs, And then distinguish'd, unperceiv'd before, By the dread torments that on every side Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound.

As falcon, that hath long been on the wing, But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despair The falconer cries, "Ah me! thou stoop'st to earth!" Wearied descends, and swiftly down the sky In many an orbit wheels, then lighting sits At distance from his lord in angry mood; So Geryon lighting places us on foot Low down at base of the deep-furrow'd rock, And, of his burden there discharg'd, forthwith Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string.

-

Translated by Rev. H. F. Cary

[everyothernamistaken]

uvuwangwang

spring break was boring it rained everyday and when it didnt rain my dad had me water the lawn and then it rained again. But then i go back to school, normal day exept solar eclise day so no one wanrs ro be in school, afterschool i go to library but friend say library close so then we walk our ans see other thrend and he has 2 girls with him from not our school rhey sey theyre fo to library whrre club is, i go to library to inspect and there was no club but we stay in library and do puzzle then girl with glasses breaks puzzle and we leave, we gon ro mc donalds and then glasses girl keeps callinf me gringo but she was kinda hot so not big matter then miss entire eclypse becayse we were in mcdonalds but then we go to volleyvall but we kinda suck so instead we explor local collwgde the 2 wenr to i dont remwmvee the other girls name but i went home because there wad pasta at home and all i had at mc donald was sprite. Day after very boring

Day after that i have booring day but then i get home get message bloebloede we go to mall. My friends desicde to go to mall i show up ay time we said i sit im car 1 hour bevause everyone else is late, but, i saw a kitty cat in the parking lot so i made everyone wait 30 minutes while cops come ro save kitty cops take so long so i call local councelor who is also frienda dad to gey them quicker it did not work bur idc the cat was saved then we went shopping, so we go to game store and i see glasses and her firend and my firend but my other friends they drag me out before i can speak ro them so then we go to eat food bur then we realise there is a better food place bur we already oederd aperisers but i obly ate like a few fries bur wile i wad there we made plans ro make a band, and imediately my one friend suggested getting crazy ex to play guitar for us, this wad regarded as a bad idea as no one wants to but up with her as she is crazy. We then left food to drive 15 minyes to the other side of town ro get wings, i ordered hottest wings they had and there wad 6 of us bur only one cup so i didnt get a cup bwcause i did not want to use the communal cup which was acrualy my cup that i payed fkr but whatever the wings weregood but i wish my firnsd sdidnt drag me away from other friend because like every girl i know is like psychotic and they seemed not crazy minus the girl who calls me gringo she seemed slightly off also im pissed i missed the eclypse also when we go to mall we saw people we do not like such ad my friends dad and some guy from our school who is unlikeable also my parents want me to go to prom but i do not want to go so i do not think i will go but everyone says i wkll regret it but i think that every school function i go to has leed to regret so why risk it but all my firends are go but also all my not liked people i know are going

[quordleona03]

Well, I do think that moment is a fairly conventional expression of male rage.

The craziness of the patriarchy? BJ Hunnicutt is a big man, but I don't think he's quite big enough to take on embodying the patriarchy.

I think that every single main character in the 4077th has at one time or another done something crazy. Klinger included (Frank Burns live grenade): though the dresses, are, as Sidney notes, a sane response to being a conscientious objector stuck in a war zone.

BJ Hunnicutt has moments of pure rage in which he shouts and he hits out. This is not a sane thing to do, but perhaps the sanest thing about what he did in Period of Adjustment was that he aimed his violence at the still - which he could not be militarily punished for destroying as it wasn't supposed to be there at all - and at Hawkeye, who he would have known wouldn't turn him in. (Charles would have been a probably-safe target as too much dignity to explain to a court martial that yes, BJ punched him in the face, and no, he didn't even try to fight back, but Charles very sensibly removed himself from the Swamp and tried to warn Hawkeye not to step into it.)

It is common for violent men who take out their rage by hitting to pick targets that they know won't be able to fight back or stop them. Are we to assume that this unhinged attack was actually sane and rational BJ Hunnicutt calculating sensibly that as he wants to defuse his rage on someone, he had better stay in the Swamp and use Hawkeye as a punching bag - just as if he were this angry at home, he could safely have punched Peg or hit Erin?

I prefer not to. I like to think of BJ as an angry, irrational man who nonetheless normally defuses his rage with essentially harmless practical jokes (Charles's trousers, on more than one occasion: Hawkeye's boot: the Colonel's binoculars: Mulcahy's clothing/bathrobe) rather than a sanely calculating patriarchal boor who punched Hawkeye and smashed the still because both were a safe outlet for his rage.

I don't think I've ever seen an "unhinged BJ Hunnicutt moment" that wasn't completely normal behavior.

[maxwell-grant]

Who's your favorite Batman villain?

The Penguin. Was gonna put off this ask for a bit but I got surprised today with an incredible rendition of him, so now the dastardly bumbershoot waddled and squawked his way into my thoughts again and I gotta talk about him.

Penguin's not just my favorite Batman villain, he's my favorite DC character and comic book supervillain, the main reason I even want to write a Batman story someday.

I love the imagery that surrounds him, the trick umbrellas and the birds he so lovely dotes after and the WAKs and the Iceberg Lounge, which has become maligned in recent years as a sign of his downfall, but I very much appreciate as a concept in general still. I love a lot of the performances and actors who've taken him over the years. Burgess Meredith and Danny DeVito are some of my favorite performers of all time, Paul Williams has a wonderful voice and starred in my favorite film of all time. Tom Kenny, David Ogden Stiers, Robin Lord Taylor, Penguin's just had such great, terrific performances and adaptations. Batman Returns is my favorite Batman film by far and it was what got me to start paying more attention to Oswald.

I love the roles he can play in any given Batman story and how he's managed to endure all of his falls from grace by becoming an indispensable part of Batman's worldbuilding. I love his varied dynamics with Batman and Riddler and Catwoman and Gordon and his henchmen and those who get close to him. I love his style and the way he conducts himself when he's allowed to be more than just a generic mob boss. Penguin's design has, by simply staying unchanged over the decades, gone from "common rich person wear draped over a funny cartoon gangster" to "he is so out of touch and desperate for respectability that he dresses like an 1930s capitalist caricature, like a little kid's idea of what a rich and respectable man looks like, and Penguin's still stuck in that mindset". I love how absurd and plausible he is.

I like that Penguin can very easily fit just about any kind of Batman story, from the campy supervillain plots to the gritty urban crime ones. You can tell stories about Penguin falling in love, pretending to be legit because he doesn't want his aunt to learn he's a criminal, and opening up a comedy act with a talking penguin, or stories about Penguin terrorizing the city with giant robots and guided missiles and driving people to suicide. I like that he's a character who both relishes in his lifestyles of supervillain and crimelord alike, and yet is perpetually restless because the minute he acquires what he wants, he immediately starts wanting something else. He could have Batman and the Batfamily and all other supervillains wiped out and have Gotham in his pocket and maybe even become President of the United States, and he'd still want more. Because Oswald is nothing but wants, the wants of a traumatized manchild in a funny costume throwing money and toys and brute force and tantrums at the world until it makes sense, which only makes him far too fitting as a Batman villain.

Everyone forgets that Penguin was canonically the first villain to ever successfully escape Batman at the end of a story, completely bypassing the usual "villain swears revenge behind bars" ending to instead escape scot-free, and went on to establish himself as one of his biggest, most inventive and most cunning villains, second only, if not equal, to Joker. I love that he's ruthless and inventive and classy and cunning and brutal and how his main trick is using the fact that everyone underestimates the short fat man to his advantage. He's taken traits that got many of us in real life relentlessly tormented for them, and he uses them to pull the wool over those who think they are better than him.

It'ss a trick that works because even in real life people can't stop looking at this weird and silly little man and think "that guy's too silly for a Batman villain, he's not a murder clown or musclebound monster, what's he gonna do" and, yeah, that's the point, that's been the point from day one, he doesn't look scary or intimidating or even that evil, and he's the guy who pulls the rug under supergenius fighting machine Batman and becomes the top crimelord of Gotham City, a city ruled by terrors and manias and monsters infinitely bigger and scarier and stronger than he is, and he STILL made it to the top and he STILL maintains it, time and time again even when newer and flashier and scarier villains come and go. Batman is, at it's core, a fundamentally absurd character, and Penguin acts as a reminder of that. Because the minute we accept a man can terraform himself with training and money into a living legend on the level of gods, there's no reason why a tiny fat man with similar drive and resources can't likewise throw his weight with monsters and warriors far above his station.

Despite how ridiculously often he's disrespected by writers and fans alike, how far he's fallen off his former position in Batman's Rogues Gallery, and how often he's used as just a punching bag for assorted Bat-people, Penguin never goes away. He's the biggest survivor of all of Batman's villains, more so than the genuinely immortal ones, because he's the cockroach that won't go away no matter how many times you flush it.

Because once you get past the piles of money and the lounge fortresses and the armies of goons and the piles of cartoony gadget toys not too dissimilar from Batman's own, what the Penguin has is brains, and spite and hatred on a scale no other Batman villain has. He hates Batman, because Batman is nothing but yet another bully who thinks he can push Oswald around just because he's bigger and stronger. He hates the lower class for it's unsophisticated brutes and boors that made his childhood hell. He hates the upper class that's rejected and also tormented him since infancy, that he desperately spent so long trying to be a part of. He hates the monsters and supervillains he works with and has to associate with to stay alive. He hates the city that he fights to rule over tooth and nail.

And although he may never admit it, he hates himself, because he'a short paunchy man with a beakish nose who's brutal and immoral not just because those are the cards life dealt him, but because he likes what it affords him too much to give it away. Because he's never going to have the love and acceptance he desperately craves, he will never be able to accept it or keep it. Because he can never fully be a gentleman, or a monster, but instead a sad mix who belongs in neither of their worlds. Because at the end, he doesn't look like anyone else. He looks like one of him.

And still, I like Penguin because he's a Gentleman Villain. The one Gentleman Villain of Batman's rogues gallery, even if that's faded from a lot of his recent appearences that pushed the crimelord aspects to the forefront. He dresses like a gentleman thief, he's canonically a huge A.J Raffles fan, he's one of the most cunning brains of Gotham, he's got the money, resources, and adventurous spirit. Problem is, he's The Penguin. And suddenly, all that he has becomes overblown, outlandish, theatrical, and out of touch purely because it's him trying to do all those things. He's a gentleman adventurer gone rogue, the Count Fosco of the DCU, and that only makes it amusing, even endearing, when Penguin does engage in the swashbuckling antics he's so fond of.

When all his plans go to hell and so he starts fencing Batman, or when he commands henchmen with superflous fancy language, or even when Oswald gives the whole "hero" thing a shot and we see he's actually not bad at it, maybe he actually could have been one if it wasn't for the bile drowning his heart and the hellscape that warped innocent young Cobblepot into Gotham's Penguin, a name that immediately denotes something silly and ridiculous, and he carries it with pride, because he will make you respect that name.

And that's just a couple of reasons. I really, really love this character to the point of obsession and the main reason why I ever wanted to write stories for DC was to get to write Penguin and at least try to do the character a little more justice. But if nothing else, Penguin endures, regardless of what happens to him, in and out of universe. If nothing else, that's a very admirable quality in a supervillain. Oswald is the best.

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[supercantaloupe]

in re: asks i would just love to hear your opinions on any Operas Characters… whichever ones you’re thinking of at the moment or whichever ones you last saw

pollione (norma) is a bitch. he's going on my "worst men in opera" shitlist for sure. not that he does anything particularly heinous in the grand scheme of "terrible deeds opera men commit" or whatever but he's fucking annoying about it and that's a worse character sin than like murder or whatever. norma herself and especially adalgisa i just kinda feel sorry for tbh. you girls deserve a better ending than this

i realize probably very few other people are familiar with argento's The Boor enough to have opinions about it but i do cause i saw it last night and i could not help but think "wow i don't respect literally any of you people" about both the boor and the widow. the servant can stay though he's nice (also i'm biased cause i'm friends with the actor)

similarly i kinda think both senta and the dutchman in der fliegende hollander are boring and i don't care about them. esp senta like jeez did the german romantics know you can write women to be actual characters and not just a magical boon for Some Guy? (i mean weber managed it with agathe in der freischutz so like what's wagner's excuse)

i also respect hardly anyone in the der ring des nibelungen. i have to study excerpts from this one (also tristan und isolde) for class this week and dunking on the characters (and wagner himself. fuck that guy) is how i'm coping with it

i think pirates of penzance has some of the most memorable music of the g&s canon but one of the worst plots tbh. i realize this is not opera like you probably were looking for but i did see it last week at a professional opera company so close enough. also to swing this back to being question relevant i think a big part of the plot being kind of flimsy and dumb has to do with the fact that characters will literally just Say Shit and everyone else will just Immediately take their word for it and like i get that this is how the genre works but there are definitely other shows that do this in a less ridiculous way lol. frederick you're dumb as rocks but you're sweet so i'll let it slide

figaro is butch.

[ask-spiderspike]

Spiderspike crouched down further on the gargoyle, trying her best to stay down in the shadows. Morbius was.. okay, he wouldn't kill her, at least, but she'd rather just stay in the background of all of this. It wasn't her problem, it was MK's. She was staying out of it.

Morbius, the living vampire, whatever, sat at a heavy wooden desk in front of her, squinting at paperwork. Boor-ing. Marc was in the other room, discussing things with witnesses outside. The entire building was shadowed, gothic, and vaugely unsettling- apparently, Morbius liked to stick to an aesthetic. It was better than a lab, but Spike still shuddered a little.

The door opened, and Marc stepped inside, in his Mr. Knight outfit. Spike couldn't believe that they stuck to two aliases, but they were always pretty confusing. He pulled out the chair on the other side of the desk and sat down, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his temples.

"I'll be blunt, Micheal: I know about as much as you do," Marc sighed, "I don't recognize any of this. Might be an alternate version of me, might not be, might just be a similarity in aesthetic choices."

Morbius, from across the table, squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and took a drink from the water bottle next to him. Spike saw red on his fangs as he gritted his teeth.

"Konshu's been pissed-" The "bird" perched on Marc's shoulder tilted it's head and muttered an angry something in ancient Egyptian- "We suspect someone else is in Manhattan, and that's all of the information I can add-"

MOVE

Spike jumped onto the ceiling and barely kept in the shadows as the window broke open. A man in a deep black costume with yellow accents jumped in, followed by a long white cape.

Their suspect.

Marc stopped being Marc and started being the Moon Knight, crecent darts flying towards the black-clad attacker. The attacker threw his own, filling the room with white screaming flashes. Morbius jumped back to board up the door into the rest of the building, the vampire flitting through the shadowed corners.

...Inexplicably, Konshu landed on Spike's back and started pruning his feathers. Spike dodged another dart and he squacked, and he followed her when she scrambled into a vent.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She spat to the god, squinting through the grates.

"I am a bird-"

"That can't fucking die! Why have you been so damn angry lately, anyway, since I can finally ask you privately, do you fucking-"

"He's claiming to be my fist, and he's hurting exactly who I claim to protect," he spat, almost starting to rant before Spike interrupted him.

"He claims to be WHAT? You didn't think to tell anybody this?" Spike yelled. She looked back down at the fight, and multiple darts were stuck in the suspect's arm- but, that wasn't quite as important as the metallic silver scarab scampering into his hood. A tracker.

Spike thought that it shouldn't have been needed, considering that apparently the bird next to her knew the entire fucking story.

"I-" he started, and Spike grabbed him by the neck, opened the grate again, and tossed him out. While he was falling, Spike's eyes quickly spotted another horror- MK was bleeding out of his face, and the vampire hunter was gone. Morbius was holding the door, and ran out to let the others know.

She dropped out to go help her friend, pulling off his coat and digging around in the pockets for gauze and rubbing alcohol. MK grumbled as she patched up his face, pushing her away once he was conscious enough to finish the job.

"Thank you," he said, and by the accent- like an actor from the 40s on steriods, the most stereotypical transatlantic accent possible- Spike recognized him as Steven, and she sighed in relief. Marc would've probably been angry that she followed them. Spike glared at Konshu, trying to dust off his feathers after the fall. Steven looked at them, confused.

"Did he do-?"

"He knows something," Spike interrupted, still glaring at the bird. He shifted uncomfortably, muttered something else in his native language, and rustled his feathers.

"He- the Hunter- claims to be my fist, Steven. And I know that I did not choose him."

[kindaangelic]

Apokolips War: Damian Style

Despite all odds, Dick got better. It was a slow recovery from the madness of the Lazarus Pit, but he had made progress. For now, instead of the snarling monster, the true Dick Grayson seemed to have won out.

He was still unpredictable to anyone who was not Damian. That, with the enhanced strength of the Pit, left grayson truly dangerous. The straitjacket stayed, but Dick was never violent with Damian. Dick's natural inclination to be a wholesome suburban mother to his little brother was returning, allowing Damian to spend more time with him.

“Good morning Grayson,” Damian murmured, as Dick looked up to see the person entering his room. Dick didn't reply - he never did - but he smiled.

“I have brought breakfast and the repulsive grapefruit juice that you like,” Damain continued. Dick giggled as Damian continued to bemoan the existence of the grapefruit. “A truly odious thing, it is. On the scale of unnaturalness, I would put it just below Todd's inhuman amounts of body hair.”

Dick laughed, happily and freely. Damian smiled as well, before making sure that no one else was around to see him. Todd and Drake's childhood teasings of him resembling a frog still rankled.

Damian settled down and freed Dick's restraints. “Here Grayson, I have prepared a “Todd Sandwich” - peanut butter and potato chips, the boor. I have prepared a mayonnaise sandwich for myself, à la Drake. Nothing but pure mayonnaise.”

They munched in silence, until Damian cleared his throat. “Don't tell anyone,” he started, and Dick looked unamusedly at him. Damian chuckled. “Sorry. But I resurrected Todd and Drake too.”

Dick looked shocked. “J- jay...bird? Tim-my?”

Damian looked stunned. “Yes. I accessed their tissue samples that father kept stored away. Todd is...violent, but I am confident that he will recover his wits. He has been through this before. Drake is-”

Dick looked panicked. “Timmy?”

Damian snorted. “Drake is sleeping. As in actively snoring, the fool. For some reason, the Pit has little effect on his brain. I believe it is because his brain has already acclimatized to the copious amounts of coffee that he drank.”

Dick laughed happily and hugged Damian. Raven decided to peek in and peered distrustfully at Dick. “Need a hand, Damian?”

“No, this is simply Grayson being Grayson,” Damian muttered.

Dick picked up Damian's sandwich and prodded his lips with it. “Eat, eat,” he insisted.

“See?” Damian said. “Just Grayson.”

Raven rolled her eyes before leaving. Damian relaxed and lolled over Grayson's lap. “Oh my god, Grayson,” Damian suddenly said, “I just found out the most disturbing thing. Did you know that Constantine is getting back together with King Shark?”

Dick stopped combing through Damian's hair to laugh. Damian joined in, trying not to imagine Constantine's plight. Perhaps, he thought as they laughed together, there might be hope after all.