#but I fear it might be the case prove me wrong game

[mazojo]

The woman was too stunned to speak

[mokokone]

Since you do demon slayer and mononoke, can I request a demon slayer reader x Kusuriuri/medicine seller. I heard that he's a kitsune, and I saw that kitsure are equated to demons. So, like the reader is trying to kill Kusuriuri's, but he always manages to escape her attempts (kinda like a cat and a mouse game), and it slowly starts to become a relationship (Maybe he saves her from a strong Mononoke, its up to you lol). Of course you don't have to do this, love your work! ♥️♥️

A/n: This was fun to write. Though I did have a hard time trying to fit Kusuriuri in the Demon Slayer universe. I honestly don't think he would fair against Muzan and his demons since they're basically still humans and Kusuriuri only fights against Mononoke. I am also not good at writing something like a Tom & Jerry chase scenario so forgive me if this doesn't meet your standards.

Anyway, I hope you like, comment, reblog (only if you want to), and enjoy!

Encounter - The Medicine Seller x DemonSlayer!Reader [ᴍᴏɴᴏɴᴏᴋᴇ x ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜱʟᴀʏᴇʀ: ᴋɪᴍᴇᴛꜱᴜ ɴᴏ ʏᴀɪʙᴀ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱᴏᴠᴇʀ]

Your Kasugai crow had informed you hours ago to head west. You obediently followed its guidance, sprinting as quickly as you could until you arrived at the rural mountain village where a peculiar string of disappearances and murders had occurred.

During your investigation, you're informed by the residents that a mysterious man has been spotted roaming the streets after dark and leaving behind a number of strange ofuda (paper tailsman) on people's doors and was carrying a box on his back.

He had arrived like the wind, proclaiming to be a medicine vendor, and was last seen wandering down the old pine forest road.

Despite the fear that gripped the neighborhood, no one could say for sure who this mysterious man was or what his intentions might be.

You weren't too surprised. As a Kanoto-ranked demon slayer, you were certain that this so-called "medicine seller" is the demon responsible for kidnapping and killing people.

Though it's likely the vile fiend wasn't as powerful as a Kizuki member, you knew not to underestimate any demon─regardless of their rank.

After all, even lower-ranked demons could prove to be formidable opponents if not dealt with carefully. As you set out to hunt down the demon behind the gruesome acts, you made sure to prepare yourself for whatever challenges may come your way. With your trusted blade and unwavering determination, you were ready to face whatever horrors awaited you in the shadows.

When nightfall came, you opted to patrol the streets and wait for the man to strike so you could slay him. You had already instructed your crow to call for backup immediately in case things were to go wrong.

You didn't survive in the Demon Slayer Corps for this long without a good reason. It was your duty to protect the innocent and rid the world of evil, no matter the cost. And you were more than willing to fulfill that duty, even if it meant putting your own life on the line.

Thus, the hunt was on!

At first, nothing out of the ordinary happened, and it was so quiet that you had to fight to remain conscious. Luckily, your time on Mount Fujikasane forced you to always remain on your guard while on missions.

Suddenly, the tap of wooden geta caught your attention, and when you snapped your head towards the sound, you saw a man with a purple bandana tied around his head and carry a strange box on his back.

The box reminded you of the one your friend Tanjiro Kamado uses to carry his little sister Nezuko.

His skin is very pale, his ears are pointy, and he has sharp canine teeth and dark blue eyes. His hair is dirty blonde and he is dressed in a vibrant kimono. Red markings outline the outsides of his eyes, with teardrop shapes underneath. He appears to be smirking, but it's actually because of a purple mark on his upper lip.

He, in fact, didn't appear to be human at all! Surely he must be the demon going around murdering people.

You gripped your katana tightly, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you stared down the strange man before you.

Before you could even think twice, your body reacted instinctively, fluid and precise, as you lunged forward with the intent to behead the perceived demon.

"I have you now, demon!" you declared, voice laced with a mixture of determination and a hint of bloodlust as you unsheathed your nichirin blade.

 It was a game of cat and mouse, with you relentlessly pursuing the stranger, driven by your conviction that this man was a demon that needed to be vanquished.

The stranger, however, seemed unfazed by your aggression, and with a brief glance, he turned and fled, disappearing into the shadows of the surrounding woods. Without hesitation, you gave chase, your feet pounding against the forest floor as you pursued the fleeing figure.

 As the chase continued, the stranger seemed to effortlessly weave through the dense foliage, his movements fluid and graceful. You, however, refused to be deterred, your determination fueling your every step.

 "You can't run forever, demon!" You shouted, your voice echoing through the woods.

 The stranger remained silent, focusing on his escape. You could feel the frustration building within you, your desire to catch the elusive figure growing stronger with each passing moment.

 Suddenly, the stranger took a sharp turn, disappearing behind a thicket of trees. You followed suit, your katana raised and ready to strike. But as you reached the clearing, the stranger was nowhere to be seen...

"Wh-what?" You quickly scanned the area, your senses heightened, searching for any sign of the fleeing demon.

"What is this demon you speak of?" Said a voice from behind you.

Startled, you quickly swung your sword back. However, the stranger skillfully intercepted your strike, effortlessly catching the blade between his index and middle finger.

"I'm afraid you must have me confused with someone else." With a quick flick of his wrist, he makes you lower your katana, and you can't help but snarl.

"I am not a demon, but a medicine seller," the stranger continued, his voice calm and soothing. "I am simply passing through," he tells you.

Despite his reassurances, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The stranger's words seemed too good to be true, and his demeanor was too composed for someone who claimed to be innocent.

You scoffed, unable to contain your skepticism. "Yeah right. Are you seriously expecting me to believe that?"

The stranger's smile remained unwavering, and his expression betrayed no hint of offense at your disbelief. It was as if he had anticipated your reaction and was prepared to face your doubts head-on.

You stepped back, putting some distance between you two, before gripping and raising your katana once more. "With that appearance, anyone can see you're not human," you add, and you launch at him again.

The medicine seller was quick as he countered your attack with a weapon of his own. His blade was sheathed, with the saya (scabbard) being unlike anything you've ever seen. The hilt had the appearance of a komainu that's commonly found in Shinto shrines. And you could swear it clicked its teeth at you.

That's not normal.

You hesitated, unsure of what to make of this eponymous stranger who seemed to be more than meets the eye. However, you were finding it hard to believe his words.

"I understand your doubts, little demon slayer," the medicine seller said, his voice soft and suave. "But I assure you, I'm no demon, just a medicine seller, and my intentions are of no ill-will." He reassures.

"Besides, you should know not to ever judge a book by its cover."

"I..." You balk. "I don't trust you," you muttered, eyeing him warily as you tightened your grip on your own weapon, ready for any sudden moves.

The medicine seller merely chuckled. "Trust is a luxury not easily afforded in our line of work," he replied cryptically, his tone still gentle. "But rest assured, I am here to help, not harm."

Despite his reassurances, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The Komainu hilt seemed to mock you with its silent gaze, adding to the mystery surrounding this enigmatic figure before you.

"However, if you wish to kill me, then I am afraid I'd have no choice but to defend myself," he warned, his eyes never leaving yours.

In one swift movement, his weapon clashes with yours, knocking you back some. You attempted to use your Wisteria Breathing technique to counter his attack, but he was already one step ahead, effortlessly dodging your moves with a smirk on his face.

You couldn't help but admire his agility and skill.

As your little fight of keep away continued, you couldn't help but wonder about the true intentions of this enigmatic man.

Was he truly here to help, as he claimed, or was there more to his story than met the eye?

The way he moved with grace and precision was a clear indication of his expertise in combat, making it clear that you were facing a formidable opponent.

Frustration started to consume you as you observed that he showed no intention of drawing his sword or harming you in any way.

"Are you affiliated with Kibutsuji Muzan?" you inquired, seeking clarity.

"Muzan...?" The medicine seller tilted his head, looking puzzled.

"Y'know? The Demon King?" You prodded, trying to jog his memory.

"Hmm, I never heard of him," he responded. "Is he Mononoke?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Oh wow, perhaps he is telling the truth about not being a demon, especially considering his unfamiliarity with Muzan.

You stopped attacking him and took a step back, feeling a mix of both relief and confusion. The medicine seller's genuine expression and lack of recognition of the name Kibutsuji Muzan made you question your assumptions.

Maybe he truly was not connected to the demons in any way. As you observed him closely, you noticed there wasn't a rank or number etched in his pupil, indicating that he's not a member of The Twelve Kizuki.

Despite his bizarre, non-human appearance, you couldn't help but believe him as you took your sword and sheathed it. The medicine seller, seeing this, puts his weapon away as well, tucking it into the obi of his kimono.

The tension in the air dissipated slowly as you considered the possibility that the medicine seller was not your enemy after all. His demeanor, now that you had stopped attacking him, was one of peaceful contemplation.

"So, you're not a demon?" You inquired.

"As I said before, I'm a humble medicine seller just passing through," he restated.

"Are you the one responsible for putting those strange tailsmans on people's doors?"

"Yes," he answered in earnest.

"Why?" You prressed further, wanting to understand his motives.

"To protect people from mononoke," he explained. "They're vengeful spirits that feed off negative emotions, do things like possess individuals, and make them suffer, cause disease, or even death."

"Oh!" You're surprised at this, as the medicine seller continues.

"I use my knowledge and abilities to fend off the mononoke until I can learn the spirit's shape, truth, and reason. Only then can I unsheathe my blade and kill the spirit." He said, gesturing to the seemingly sentient sword in his obi.

"So, you're like me but a ghost hunter?" You asked, now both intrigued and amazed, as stars twinkled in your eyes.

The medicine seller chuckles, "Sort of."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized that the medicine seller was actually not a threat. The initial fear and tension that had gripped you just moments ago now seemed like a distant memory.

"That's so cool, Mr. Kusuriuri-san," you commented, and he smiled at the name.

Soon, you felt a twinge of guilt for attacking him earlier as you lean forward and bow. "Please forgive me, Kusuriuri, for trying to kill you," you apologized.

"I was quick to judge you without knowing the whole story," you added, feeling a sense of regret for your actions.

But the medicine seller simply chuckled and reassured you that he held no grudges.

"It's okay, little demon slayer. It is a common reaction when faced with the unknown," he reassured you, his tone gentle as always. "You were simply doing your job. I understand it's your solemn duty to protect humanity from this Muzan and his army of demons."

You blushed upon feeling his hand pat your head, a gesture that conveyed both approval and reassurance. In that moment, you felt a surge of gratitude towards him for his understanding. It was a reminder of why you had taken on the mantle of demon slayer in the first place—to safeguard the innocent and uphold justice in a world threatened by Muzan and his demons.

It seems both you and Kusuriuri share a common goal. You, a demon slayer, and he, a mononoke hunter, both seek to rid the world of dark forces that threaten the balance.

"So, what are the mononoke you're hunting, Kusuriuri-san?" You soon asked him.

"They are ikiryō (live spirits) and are the restless souls of the villagers who have been slaughtered by the demon you've been summoned to seek and destroy." He tells you.

"Really?"

"Yes," Kusuriuri nods. "The demon is their truth, but unfortunately, my abilities are futile against such a fiend. So, I'm in need of your aid, demon slayer. If you kill the vile demon, only then can I vanquish the ikiryō, so that they may find peace." He explains.

As you mulled over Kusuriuri's words, you realized the fate of the village rested in your hands, and the lives of the innocent villagers hung in the balance.

And so, with determination coursing through you, you smiled before agreeing to lend him your aid.

"Thank you," Kusuriuri murmured as he then informed you where the demon was hiding.

You were ready to confront the demon and bring peace to the restless souls.

[wannabemasterofwindintraining]

How do you watch Dreamzzz and come to the conclusion Logan isn't insecure. Genuine question because I feel it's a central point to his character a lot

Why would his worst fear be his friends laughing at him and telling him he's not enough if he DIDN'T have insecurity issues??

A character is allowed to be Egotistical for no reason but LOGAN IS NOT ONE OF THOSE CHARACTERS

The whole Lunia hourglass thing WOULDNT have happened if Logan wasn't insecure. NK tells him that he's going to help him be a better team mate and Logan takes the offer. He would NOT have done this IF HE WAS CONFIDENT HE WAS A GOOD TEAM MEMBER

This isn't even getting into Mission Implausible

Hold on i am gonna be so insufferable about this

I think logan genuinely thinks he's better than everyone else and he wants people to know he's better than them

Wanting to prove you are better than someone isn't always about insecurity in logans case i think it's his big ego

I'm going to highlight episodes 5 and 7 cause i wanna use them as examples

Starting in episode 5 this is logan's first fuck up that the nightmare king is apparently gonna use to manipulate him later

However and this is me quoting the episode here go watch the episode if you wanna fact check me

Mateo: someone just had to turn it into a race

Logan: hey don't blame me! All i had to work with was lunia's dumb broken hourglass

Mateo: tell me you had the hourglass

Logan: that's not my fault you were the ones cheating at the race

Both lines show that logan doesn't think any of this is his fault he doesn't feel any guilt about it cause he does not view it as his fault (he does take accountability at the end of the episode but it will be shown later that he still thinks it's not his fault)

Also this is the first episode where the other kids first use their hourglasses to beat logan which I'd argue isn't building up any kind of inferiority complex in him but i think it's building up resentment (i think this is the right word?) For the others "cheating" in his own words

Now onto episode 7 i wanna highlight Lance's conversation with Logan cause i think it highlights how the nightmare king's way of getting to logan isn't by preying on his insecurities but targeting his ego

Lance: those were some sick moves bro! Logan was it?

Logan: uh yeah? That's me?

Lance: you are killing it! I'm over here like trying to study your game bro

Clear example of him showering him with complements to feed his ego

Lance: ugh that green dude has a totally unfair advantage

Logan: right?

Logan: hey! I'm no cheater

Lance: fight fire with fire bro

Logan: yeah they cheated so....

He is now supporting Logan's resentment of the others cheating that i talked about

Notice how he doesn't convince logan by telling him the hack will help him with his "weakness" or whatever he specifically told him to fight fire with fire and this is where we get to his fuck up

Now onto the big one the instance people point to to prove Logan is on fact insecure and that's his other conversation with lance

Lance: dude i used that cheatcode before and it was fine! It's probably the system that's jacked up

Lance: or you did it wrong that stuff happens

Lance: wouldn't be the first time you got your friends in hot water

Logan: what's that supposed to mean?

Lance: pillows peak and the hourglass

this time the nightmare king is trying a different approach he's trying to make Logan feel insecure about his mistakes

Logan: man how was i supposed to know that broken piece of junk was gonna be so important

However his new tactic isn't working cause Logan doesn't think it was his fault he does not care stay unbothered king

Lance: Logan you get that thing fixed you stop being the guy who screws everything up

Lance: you'd be kind of a hero

No this might sound like the inferiority complex is winning but based on what he says on the next episode I'd argue the part that got to him wasn't "you stop being the guy who screws everything up" but "you'd be kind of a hero"

Logan: let's get this bad boy fixed and show the team who the real clutch player is

Logan: now how do we get this thing repaired so i can be a ✨️hero✨️ like you said

Notice who the part he cares about is being a hero? Being the clutch player? He couldn't care less about his fuck up cause all he cares about is getting the W and showing the others he's better than them

I don't think there's an undertone of insecurity i think he's just a diva w a big ego

But the sick beats episode? He likes attention you don't need to be insecure to like attention n you don't need to be insecure to be sad when you don't get attention he says he's wants everyone to like his music he doesn't look at the camera n go what if ppl don't like my art 🥺👉👈 like mateo does he's just tiktoker

What about his dream trial? He's mildly annoyed at worse he's still sassing the fake dreamchasers n he also immediately wins he gets in goes ok i see what you're trying to do unfortunately NUUH!!!!! (Also lowkey i think his trial is about realising he doesn't need to be the centre of attention not overcoming his inferiority complex or whatever)

Also i really don't think he's insecure about the others being able to dreamcraft while he can't he thinks they're cheating n he's totally still better than them cause he's soooo cool

Like

Logan: jokes on you bro! I don't have an imagination

Logan speaking so casually about having no imagination shows he couldn't care less about it we love to see an unbothered king

It's so funny how ppl say logan is the jealous one one mateo has a scene where he looks at the camera n starts venting on main about how logan is better at him in everything

Like my guy lego isn't subtle they don't do show not tell if he did think he's inferior to the others he would turn to the camera n say it

Als a little point my bestie brought up logan is a foil to mateo (foil parallel?? I know words......) logan is good at sport mateo is bad at sport logan has no imagination mateo is very imaginative logan is over confident mateo is insecure

He is straight up acting egotistical all canon material say he's over confident n everyone still goes hmmm he's clearly insecure like I'm all for emo headcanons but that's what it is a headcanon

Also being insecure isn't a central part of his character being a silly little guy is the central part of his character he's the comic relief guy

Thanks for listening sorry you had to read my opinions you literally asked for it

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Molly O’Shea X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute, and Fluffy Prompt [Full Version]

• Takes place during Chapter 2 of Red Dead Redemption 2 [Horseshoe Overlook];

• Linked to previous bouts of writing I did for this idea if you want to drop in and take at the last one I did for this: https://www.tumblr.com/angstyandromanticwriting/751283012968349696/molly-oshea-x-femreader-angsty-cute-and-fluffy

• Transition of parts within this instalment indicated as usual utilising Roman Numerals;

• Word Count standing at: 22.4k!

• There will be more!

!TW(s): Mention of sexual occurrences + mild depiction of eroticism, forbidden love, depiction of homophobia + use of derogatory terms, swearing + insult(s), depiction of self-doubt + implied suffering from depression; anxiety + separation anxiety, threat(s), implied substance abuse, nudity, depiction of cheating, mention of hanging, prostitution, presence of weaponry; violence + getting wounded, presence of blood, mention of a previously failed suicide attempt, depiction of animal/game hunting/animal cruelty, element of suicidal thinking, implied elements of unresolved trauma, mention of a previous break-up - please, feel free to let me know if I’ve missed any here; thank you!

Wait For Me/There’s Still Time

I

You weren’t exactly sure what had changed, since Arthur and Molly’s last hushed conversation. He’d only recently got back from the social call up at Six-Point Cabin, before he’d pulled her aside the way that he did, looking more worried than he ever had before - in your opinion, anyway. Some might say he appeared exactly the same, well - that wasn’t how you saw it.

He’d offered you a sympathetic glance as he passed by you, and Molly had been reluctant to leave your side, smiling sadly as well as quite apologetically in your direction, before she followed hesitantly behind him to hear what he had to say to her. You should have seen it coming that something was wrong, especially when you heard that Molly had begun to shout at him, but certainly not audibly enough for you to hear exactly what it was that they were worrying about, together. You already missed your last interaction with her; how she’d kissed you so sweetly, after you both had found yourself dangerously fooling around again, quite tantalisingly close to the new and more open campsite - now Horseshoe Overlook, a rather nice looking spot (again in your opinion, some others might disagree, though you couldn’t imagine how or why, at this point).

You were sure the both of you had been quiet enough to get away with anything, if that was the issue, here, but then it still put the both of you at risk of being discovered by those who didn’t yet know about your and her relationship, as of yet, here; how it could be seen as more of an issue by those who were greatly opposed to the idea of a woman being in love with another, somehow. The thought still managed to fluster you, sometimes; you liked to think yourself affected by her in such a way; it certainly felt as if you were - you though of her so often, as if you couldn’t stop; wished you could do more to see her smile at least just a little bit more over at you. Your heart sank a little when you thought about it; something definitely felt wrong, as you awaited for them to stop talking so she could return to you, if she could, anyway; you spied Dutch walking up to them, and you feared it might not be the case, knowing that whenever he was around she tried - where she could, and felt like doing so - to prove to the others that nothing exactly untoward was going on, whether it was a falsity, or not, anyway; you tried not to think about it too much, knowing it would only make it all the more harder to breathe if you did, thinking sometimes still that maybe if she were capable of faking her feelings toward Dutch, who’s to say she wasn’t faking her claimed feelings for you, too?

It would only make you all the more lonely, though Mary-Beth didn’t mind talking to you still, despite what had happened between the both of you, as well as Molly, a little too recently, now. You winced as you recalled the moment you felt everything collapse fully within you, before Molly had been eased away from you both by Arthur, all over again. You wondered if some might call the relationship a toxic one; you tried not to make it as such, but sometimes you couldn’t handle how it felt, whenever you had to see Molly and Dutch together again, as if she never even cared about what you both were to one another, in the first place, somehow.

You tried to push the thoughts away, but it grew excessively hard to do so, especially when you noted Dutch’s left arm around Molly, as he began to lead her away from Arthur and back toward their own tent again. You subconsciously scowled down at the ground, trying not to be petty, though you considered kicking at the dirt with the scuff of your right boot again. It would have been easier to distract yourself before, having Murphy - your still at large Friesian mare - still with you, and often eager to get your attention even when she should be getting some rest, herself, after an often long day of being out riding, when you couldn’t be bothered to:

1. Get shouted at by Miss Grimshaw,

2. And have to then see (or was it often the other way around?) the only person you’d ever truly felt anything for, getting eyed up and hogged often by another person who you couldn’t help, but despise, at this point in time.

You rolled your eyes, as soon as you heard the footfalls of a space invader walking toward you, though you felt a little more at ease, as soon as you heard that it was Arthur, and not one of the other group of men who you particularly despised round here, obviously excluding Charles, Uncle, and Kieran (they never tended to annoy you as much as the others seemed to do so, thus far, anyway).

“At least smile a little more, why don’t you?” Arthur began, and you sighed, before begrudgingly lifting your head fully to meet his gaze, though you really couldn’t find it within you to take much care or notice anything at all, right now.

“What did you want with Molly?” You asked, and he winced, though he tried to cover it up with a slightly - at least - unconvincing cough, not that it did much to distract you, anyway, from your true main concerns, haunting the very complex of your being, right now.

“Nothin’,” he answered vaguely, “I was just-.. checking on things, between you two-”

“And-?” You pried, and he sighed heavily, but you wouldn’t give in - not for anything. “Arthur-”

“People have been talking,” he stated simply, his expression a little more tight than it had been, before you’d got straight to the point, the way that you had, a brief moment ago, now, “y’all have got to be more careful, around here - what were you two even thinkin’, huh? Sneaking around so close to camp, like that?”

“You weren’t even here,” you reminded him sharply, before wincing yourself upon raising your voice a little bit too much more than you had been intending to, a brief moment ago, now, “who?” He appeared puzzled for a brief moment, furrowing his eyebrows as he tilted his head slightly over at you, again expectant of you to evaluate yourself further, all over again. You wondered if he was playing dumb, or if it was - rather - you, but you couldn’t tell, nor could you even be bothered to do so, rolling your eyes impatiently as you began to want to kick at the dirt again, somehow. “Who’s been talking about us, Arthur?” You pried, and he warily looked around again, before shaking his head gravely, as if it annoyed him to even be speaking of such names, the way he had to, now.

“Bill, and Micah,” he revealed begrudgingly, “Bill’s the more recent of the two, but-”

“Ah, Arthur, there you are!” Dutch’s voice sounded out again, and you couldn’t help, but grit your teeth for a brief moment, before forcing a smile in his direction as he nodded his head respectfully toward you, alongside his more rough-looking friend to the left of you, by now. “Have you heard from Micah and Lenny, at all? They’ve been out in Strawberry for a little while, now, and you know how I get with the two of them; especially our little Lenny - he’s still so young; I get worried, you see - you know I worry, don’t you, Arthur?” He insisted, as if he were trying to prove himself to the both of you, somehow.

“Sure, Dutch - sorry, Miss L/n; take care of yourself, alright? Now, Dutch, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the bonds-” He mused as he led the other away, you sighing gravely again as you leaned against one of the hitching posts, unintentionally having it be the one you tended to tie Murphy to, sometimes.

“I miss you, too, girl,” you mused in a little more of a strained manner, a pained expression on your face as the minutes ticked by slower than ever, at this point in time, you not sure where to even stand, anymore, in a world much too big for you, by now, especially now that the threat of execution could be even bigger, by now, if Bill and Micah’s suspicions got any further than they did, beyond the camp, as well as inside of it. If Dutch found out, well.. you knew you’d have to leave, sooner or later, anyway. You just didn’t think your half-departure would be down to anything else, the way it turned out to be, following the events of a painful acknowledgement, as well as the arrival of new dark day, now that you knew that things would probably never be able to be the same, the way that they were between you and Molly before, anyway.

II

Whenever you managed to leave camp, now, you didn’t end up getting very far. You often fell back into drinking too much more than you knew you should, especially after you’d promised Molly you wouldn’t drink as much anymore. You landed in Valentine, slept long nights in the back rooms of the saloon, as well as the alleyway, and hotel service. You may have given into some - other urges, always leaving you feeling heavily guilty; more than usual, anyway, especially when you were reminded of your commitments to Molly all over again.

You sighed heavily, as you turned over upon the not-so-comfortable bed you laid upon, eyes half-lidded as you tried to take on the scenery around you. It was definitely one of those rentable rooms again; you winced, guessing you’d done it again as you quickly sat up, hoping they’d let Micah get lynched in Strawberry the way you’d heard he might be as Lenny had speculated after making his own escape from the town not too long ago, now. You didn’t know how long it had been, since that had happened, but it must be recent, to be sticking within your mind the way it did, now.

You listened to the hustle and bustle already going on outside; the horses whinnying and huffing as they pulled carts along the dirt - and rather more muddy than usual - beaten down road outside. It was nice, just taking moments like these to gather yourself again, especially after everything that had been taking place, recently, specifically between you and Molly, and your confusion as to where your stood with her, now. You guessed you couldn’t avoid it forever, no matter how much you wanted to do so, right now.

You pushed yourself up off of the bed, before wincing at the sight of your naked frame in the mirror; you’d lost a bit of weight, but you didn’t care much for it anyway. You sighed heavily, your skin looking much too pale, but again you couldn’t find much to worry about, not bothered to take such heavy consideration anymore, the way that you used to, when things seemed so much simpler, before. For a moment, you wondered who you’d let yourself over to, but that was also something you didn’t waste time thinking that much about, either - it was only for a second, or two, that such a thought lasted, for you. That was, of course, until you knew.

You hadn’t noticed, at first, and possibly stupidly so, that there had been another figure laying beside you this whole time. You winced, hearing the frames’ light snores as you warily turned your head toward the sound, before your gaze fell upon the neat frame of a woman you’d never seen before. However, you knew that that part could be just the hangover talking; you’d probably let yourself get seduced, again, without even realising that you were doing so, before it was too late for you to pull yourself out of such a situation.

You grunted, before pulling your trousers and lightly furred chaps back on over them, all the while the figure behind you slowly waking herself up, but you didn’t take much time buttoning your shirt and black jacket back up, before you were out of the door, and finding yourself leaving an unsuspecting driver of intimacy wordlessly alone, and dreadfully all over again.

III

You hoped Micah had been lynched, by the time you’d arrived back at the new clearing the camp were residing within, by now. It didn’t make you feel any better, to look around and take a quick guess as to Arthur’s whereabouts; his main horse - Guinevere, a Chocolate Roan Dutch Warmblood - was no-where in sight, and therefore you guessed pretty easily that he’d gone off to Strawberry to release the slimy figure, just as you’d overheard Dutch requesting for him to do so, the night before, not that you’d stayed there for very long, at all, finding it was painful even to linger anymore, especially when Molly found herself slowly beginning to drift away from you again.

The air was cold, as you’d rode into the camp; you managed to pick up another horse - this time a pretty bay thoroughbred, but you didn’t prefer its way of riding to Murphy’s, before you’d lost her the way you had. Sometimes you still thought about it; you might as well have just let her go alone, given that she’d run off, before, only to stay put the previous times you’d tried to set her free, before.

“Miss L/n!” A booming voice called, and you winced as soon as you linked the sound to a - as usual - moody and grim face, ever the pessimistic whenever its gaze fell upon you, the way it did then.

“Miss Grimshaw?” You replied tentatively, and Susan scowled up at you, but she didn’t get much chance to shout you down this time, as Molly made a swift approach toward you both, settling your nerves, somehow all over again.

“Let her be, would ya?” She complained, and Miss Grimshaw rolled her eyes, but she knew Dutch would get involved if she continued, especially now that Molly was involved, the way that she was, now.

“These stupid, stupid girls!” You heard Susan utter exasperatedly as you couldn’t help, but grin, as you carefully slipped yourself off of the saddle, and hitched your new companion upon the post you’d left her stood before, the way you did, a brief moment ago, now.

“She’s treatin’ ya alright, then?” Molly began timidly, and you almost forgot she was there, her voice only making a pained expression fall upon your entire demeanour, all over and over again, as if it hadn’t already registered within you yet that the both of you needed to be more careful, even more so now, whenever you found yourselves even looking in one another’s direction, the way you did, before, under less threat - that was for sure - than you had been, before you were, now, because of both Bill, and Micah, now that they were starting to talk about you both more a lot more now, somehow.

You would at first play dumb, hoping maybe it would secure you more time with her, though sometimes you weren’t sure why, after the way things had been taking place recently, the way that they were, now, shattered between you both, the way they were, quite often, before this moment in time, by now.

“Who? Huckleberry, or Susan?” You inquired, curious, and Molly also found it difficult to fight her own smile back, now that she was here with you, and talking with you again, the way that she was before; things got-.. difficult, to consider, whenever she found herself away from you, either willingly, or unwillingly, now.

“Ya know what I mean,” she answered a little more playfully, but there was still a distance you found too painful too ignore, the way you’d tried to do so, many times before, now. “She’s a good horse, ain’t she? I knew you’d like her,” she admitted, and you raised your eyebrows a little, before warily stepping a little closer to her, your heart beating too fast again, as soon as your eyes met her own again, the way they did, as soon as you felt you could do so, hopefully without breaking down too far, all over again, like the many ways you had, so many times, consistently before now.

“Molly, I - we-”

“Miss O’Shea,” Dutch greeted brightly from a slight distance as he walked confidently toward the two of you again; this was why you often got scared that maybe he knew, already - what if Bill, or Micah had already spread their suspicions toward him? You couldn’t take the unknowing aspects of it; couldn’t take the idea of possibly losing her, all over again, but you didn’t want to get her into trouble. “Miss L/n,” he added, when he’d got close enough to really acknowledge you, without it being too awkward then to do so, the way it could have been, a brief moment ago, now. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes - how could it? “I was just about to offer you two a drink; it’s been long since all of us talked to each other, don’t you think? What do you say, huh? A good old little chat, just the three of us? It’ll be like old times again, right? We could-”

“I - I forgot, I was meant to - meant to go out hunting for Pearson, just-.. forgot about it, I guess,” you murmured a little cautiously, and he would appear a little taken aback, but nonetheless he shook his head, and tried to keep a decent composure about him, not wanting to appear disturbed by how you’d interrupted him, the way that you had, a brief moment ago, now. “We could - talk later, maybe? If-”

“Don’t get yourself worked up about it,” Dutch offered, and you faltered, before shrugging, and forcing another smile back toward the both of them again, “just - take care of yourself out there, okay? We don’t want you getting yourself hurt, do we Miss O’Shea?”

Molly tensed up, just slightly, before she shook her head, bowed it, as if she were trying to hide that it had worried her even more, somehow, to think of you getting hurt, somewhere neither of them or the others could find you, out there.

“Of course not, Dutch,” she replied a little shortly, as if it irritated her even that he was asking her such a thing, when he should know himself that she could never want to see you get hurt, no matter what the situation was between you both now, after Arthur had made known the suspicions the two aforementioned were having in regard to your and her relationship, now, though you couldn’t imagine why it posed such a problem to them, but you guessed it was just what life was like, sometimes - doubt had to be posed, somewhere along the lines, now.

IV

It didn’t take you long, to fall into another bed again. By this time, Micah had been saved; you’d heard from Arthur that this was the case, now. You winced, as you tried to catch your breath after the previous heated session you’d engaged within, another of the seducers you’d collided with grinning over at you, before she got up off of the bed to get herself re-dressed, knowing that the money you’d given her could easily be doubled, if she tried to continue her business for the day.

“Wait,” you managed feebly, and the woman faltered, glancing back at you timidly, before she turned to face you fully, and tilted her head partially in your direction again.

“Need something else, hon?” She inquired, a wide smile playing itself upon her lips once more, as you awkwardly eased yourself upright, and made to pull out the remaining coins you had left, after giving her the batch she’d initially requested of you to engage in such activities with her, earlier.

“Don’t - Don’t do anymore out there, today,” you managed, and she would appear confused, a puzzled expression on her face as her eyebrows furrowed in response to such a request from you, “the - the customers out there can get a bit more-.. rowdy, when it gets dark out there; I don’t want you having to go through anything like-.. y’know-.. I’ve said the same to the others, too, so-..”

You lifted the small purse up so she could see it, taken aback as she stammered a little, wondering why you were exchanging such a kindness to her, the way you were, now.

“What are you-”

“Take it; I don’t need it,” you insisted, and she tried to shake her head, but you set the purse down, not wanting her to feel forced to accept such a gesture from you, the way she was considering the pros and cons of taking such an opportunity, right now.

“But - I-”

“It’s there if you want it, no charge,” you reassured her, and a strained sob of elation escaped her, as she stooped down, and shakily picked the purse up off of the ground, though it still felt unreal to her, how you were willing to provide such a gift toward her though times were tough, and surely it was difficult for you to make yourself some money, alongside her, somehow.

“Thank you - god, thank you, this - this is-.. I-..” She faltered, not sure what to say, as you smiled softly over at her, feeling decently at ease to have shared such happiness with her, though she had only been a stranger to you, earlier today.

“It’s okay,” you continued softly, “spend it wisely, okay?”

“Oh, I will - I will, I promise you, this-.. this is - thank you, miss - thank you; I will not forget the kindness you showed me today - never. Take care, miss, a-and hopefully our paths will cross again, someday,” she added, and you nodded slowly as you repeated her gesture, but you didn’t understand why - once she’d left the room - it pained you, when you thought about everything waiting for you, miserably back at home, again.

V

It didn’t surprise you, that Molly was waiting by the hitching post you tended to use whenever you made an unexpected return, such as the one you’d just performed, a brief moment ago, now. Sure, some didn’t seem surprised, but you did notice Micah, Bill, and Arthur looking in your direction, two more maliciously than the other. You sighed; you’d give anything to just release a bullet from the barrel of your revolver, if it would just be enough to take the two of them down in one go, somehow. You were running low, that much was clear.

You re-sheathed your gun into its heavy black leather holster, before finally acknowledging Molly, who looked positively terrified for a brief moment, at what - you weren’t sure, but it was the look of knowing that damaged you the most, when her gaze lingered upon your accidentally still undone fly. You grunted, before re-doing it up, not wanting to make the moment go on for any longer than it had, by now.

“I’m sorry,” you offered, but she scoffed, a hurt look on her face as you tried to keep your wits about you, when truth be told you were still tired, and sore. You winced, your chest stinging something fierce, and she lifted her right hand up to the cuff of your left sleeve, the touch leaving you feeling lost again as you allowed your gaze to meet her’s, only for everything to shatter again as soon as you felt her a little more forcefully re-adjusting the cuff into its proper position - another unkempt detail you’d let run amiss, until this moment in time.

“You’re not sorry,” she retorted sharply, her voice briefly trembling as she did, “you’ll never be sorry, will ya? Just - get outta my sight already, or - or I’ll have to-”

“Mol-”

“No - you - you don’t get to do that to me anymore, do ya? Not after this,” she hissed, and you faltered, not sure what to do with yourself anymore as you watched her walk away again, your eyes darkening as you sighed heavily, and even Arthur shook his head disapprovingly, before he walked slowly back toward his own shelter, and you knew you’d probably never be able to feel the same way again, the way you did before. You were happy, back in Dewberry Creek, but that was Old Trail Rise; nights holding her body close to your own, and knowing you could never survive without a thought of her, but this was now, and you’d never felt so far away from humanity before. Not now that she’d caught you again so suddenly (as well as stupidly, perhaps), anyway.

VI

“I’ve tried to stop it, Arthur,” you managed, and he raised his eyebrows over at you, clearly in doubt over such a vaguely direct statement as the one you’d made, a brief moment ago, now.

“Oh you have, have you?” He replied, and you rolled your eyes; you hadn’t wanted it to get to a point like this - of course you hadn’t, but maybe if you’d been at least a bit more careful with presentation, everything would be- “she would have always found out, no matter how hard you try to cover it up.”

You appeared puzzled, evidently taken aback by his assumption, conveniently right after you’d been thinking of other possible scenarios that could have taken place, if you hadn’t messed up, the way you had, earlier today.

“Look, I-.. it’s not like I meant for it to happen; I could never-”

“You seem to be enjoyin’ it though, don’t you? I suggest that you - instead of talkin’ to me about it - you get your damn head outta your ass, and go and talk to the poor woman you should be talkin’ to, right now,” he retorted sharply, and you sighed heavily, evidently nervous as though the guilt of the world hung upon your shoulders again, whenever you found yourself in situations like these, terrified of losing what you had left that meant the very most to you, whilst - at the same time - finding yourself wishing you could hold such a figure close to you again, no matter how much it terrified you to do so in a public place, where there were already suspicions in regard to your and her relationship with one another, by now.

“You wanna be that way? Fine, you be that way,” you spat, before dragging yourself away, though you’d never felt quite this vulnerable before, but you certainly weren’t expecting it to get any worse than it did, as soon as you faltered upon hearing a familiar rough voice to the right of you.

Bill, no doubt; you would have rushed off, if you didn’t stop briefly to listen to the conversation being had, here.

“I say we get rid of her, Dutch,” he remarked, and you scowled subconsciously down at the ground, even before you started thinking that maybe they were talking about you, already, like Arthur had warned you that he had been, not too long ago, now. “She’s a liability, and - who knows - maybe your - I say deceptive - little Miss O’Shea is, too. Come on; you’ve gotta be seein’ this - it’s crazy; how would you not be?” He questioned, but there was no response from the other party - there wouldn’t be, especially not after you found yourself walking up to the wooden rectangle they were speaking across, making the both of them tense up at the look on your face for a brief moment - especially Dutch, as he awkwardly bowed his head, not sure what he had to say during this brief moment in them, after what he’d heard from Bill today, in regard to your and Molly’s possible - well, as they would probably call it - ‘inverted-ness’.

“I hope you both know it ain’t nice, to be talkin’ about others the way you are, now,” you uttered, and it was remarkable; they were both hiding their faces, now - you couldn’t quite believe it, but - at the same time - seeing them like this, now, after their inferior conversation, you thought - well, maybe you could, now. You grinned, before scoffing as you shook your head, fighting back a laugh again as you decided against continuing too sharply, as you bid them farewell until tomorrow again, before walking swiftly toward Huckleberry, and trying not to spare a further glance toward Dutch and Molly’s tent, no matter how much you wished to do so, even when you couldn’t feel that someone was watching you in that direction, only leaving you feel all the more empty again, as you took to the abyss once more, heart heavy, but still beating, somehow.

You hoped it wouldn’t be, for long, especially when a party was coming, and possibly sooner than you thought it would be, before this moment in time, by now.

VII

The next time you saw her, she was in an evergreen dress. You couldn’t deny the oblivious stuttering of your heartbeat, before you winced, and pried your gaze away again; you didn’t want to make things worse, than they already were between the two of you, by now. You sighed heavily, noticing how the sun was beginning to wane as you took a slow drag from another of your stolen premium cigarettes, heart somehow beating too fast, still, even though you were no longer daring to look over at her, the way you had, a brief moment ago, now.

You didn’t think she’d want to talk to you again, but you guessed you were wrong, as she warily strolled steadily over to you, her frame like an angels’ within your peripheral vision as you tried to keep your cool composure, though the more that she drew closer, you knew you were close to breaking down again, somehow.

“Molly,” you began tentatively, when you could feel that she was beside you, also leaning against the hitching post you’d been practically stuck to since you’d come back, earlier, by now. “Look, I - a-about earlier - I-”

“I don’t wanna hear it anymore, Y/n,” she interjected a little feebly, prompting your heart to sink even more, somehow, as you glanced cautiously over at her again, wondering why she was still here with you, at this point, the way that she was, now, after everything, “look, I-.. I don’t know, okay? I just-.. I wanted to see ya again. I-…”

She fell quiet, a pained expression on her face which made it hard to breathe, only adding to your self hatred even more, at this rate.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, and she couldn’t bring herself to protest, “Molly, I-.. I never wanted.. fuck - I don’t know why I even-..” You grunted, evidently frustrated at yourself, and your loss of a common sense of dictionary, as you sharply turned toward her, your eyes - now shinier than they were before - begging with her own for a sense of how things used to be. There was none, though her expression did stutter a bit in response to such a breach in your usual unaffected demeanour, the way it tended to be, now, before moments like these - of course where she happened to be involved - were taking place, the way this one painfully had found itself to be, by now, the both of you staring into one another’s being, for a moment, before you cracked even more, not even before a few more seconds had passed, the way they did - albeit painfully slowly - a brief moment ago, now. “I love you, Mol - I - I’ve always-”

“That’s enough, now,” she interjected in a little more of a strained manner, though she wanted nothing more, to get herself lost within your steely, but glossy orbs again, “I don’t wanna hear it from you anymore, Miss L/n - especially not after-”

“Please,” you begged, and she faltered again - it had been a little while, since she’d ever heard you begging for anything, before now, “I-.. don’t do this, Mol; don’t break us like this-”

She scoffed, before easing you away from her, no matter how much it broke her down even more to do so, somehow, seeing how the action left you the more panic-stricken, before the hurt settled down within your eyes again, watching her frantically as she took a step back, not sure what else to do, anymore, that would make things okay between you both again. It wasn’t so bad, before, the last time things turned bitter-sweet, but now it was worse, because whenever she pictured you, it was with another woman’s arms around you, a smug look upon their face as she scowled down at the ground, trying not to let a stray tear run down her cheek, though you were begging here before her, though you didn’t doubt yourself that you no longer deserved her beside you anymore, after everything you’d done to make things hurt for her, by now.

“You think I’m the one breaking us, do ya? That’s rich, coming from you,” she retorted a little more sharply; a rose with thorns - that much was for sure, by now.

“Yeah, well, it - it wouldn��t have happened, if-.. if-..” You grunted, before taking another exasperated drag from the cigarette, as you tried to calm down again, not wanting to lose yourself completely, now - not like this, anyway.

“If-?” She pried, her voice briefly trembling. “What? You think I could go behind your back, too, do ya? Y/n, I could never do that to ya - why would ya even think that I-”

“What am I supposed to think, Mol? Every day. Every fucking day, you’re with Dutch; you have to be with him - how am I supposed to-..” Your own voice failed you, the way her’s had done to her, too. “I’m sorry,” you gave in, knowing you should, before you stamped out your cigarette, feeling all the more pathetic as you kept your head low, not wanting her to see the tears trickling down your cheeks, by now. “I shouldn’t have-..” You drew in a shaky breath, before mouthing ‘fuck’ down at the ground, feeling too lost from comfort, right now, and positively shattered inside, like there was nothing left to even cling onto, anymore, after everything that had begun to take place between you both again, recently.

You were both just - quiet, for a little while, standing where you were; it was a wonder no-one had come to interrupt either of you, though you thought you saw Mary-Beth warding off some of those who were dangerously close by, for whatever reason she managed to muster up to hinder them from coming any closer, by now. It made you think, for a little bit; when it wasn’t Arthur’s forte, Mary-Beth tended to step in, and you honestly couldn’t be more grateful to the both of them, though you couldn’t imagine why they were both protecting the two of you, the way they were, regardless of whether they thought it was wrong, or right, to be together, the way you had been, for almost more than just a few measly years, by now.

“Arthur and the others have gone to try and get Sean back, right?” You guessed, and Molly appeared taken aback by the change of subject, but she nonetheless persevered with it, though she was cautious in waiting for where this next conversation could turn, especially after your and her last heated interaction, the way it was, a brief moment ago, now.

“Apparently, the idiots they are,” she remarked, and she almost couldn’t hide the smile in her voice, especially when she heard you snorting, the way you did, then, hearing her comment in all its glory. It was nice, perhaps, for a brief moment, before you warily continued, looking more nervous than ever, your voice even doing a lot to show it, the way it did now, unusually enough.

“So, if they bring him back, Dutch’ll probably want to celebrate - right?” You pried, and she would raise her eyebrows over at you, even tilting her head a little, as she tried to figure out what you were trying to get at, here, no matter how much it had begun to worry her, the way it did, now.

“What’re you getting at, now? You planning on actually joining the party, are ya?” She assumed, naturally, and you hesitated, not sure - for a brief moment, anyway, though your heart skipped a beat again as you thought about what you wished could come true, over and over again, the way you had, so many times, before now.

“Only if you will,” you answered simply, though she could hear you were still nervous, your voice wavering a bit again, as she appeared worried again for a moment, a pained expression on her face, only making everything crumble down within you again, the way it had earlier, and every hour of every day since you’d begun to think you were losing her again, the way you did, now, after Arthur had spoken cautiously hurriedly, that day.

“What makes ya think that - after everything - I’d wanna celebrate any occasion with you?” She questioned, and you faltered again, the hopeful glint in your eyes now diminishing again, but you guessed you didn’t know what you were expecting, as you nodded gravely, and let your demeanour sink a little all over again.

“I don’t know, I just-.. I’m sorry-.. I didn’t mean-.. shit,” you spat in a voice now close to a weak whisper, “I just thought-..”

“I’m not a play toy to anybody, Miss L/n,” she retorted, “if ya can’t respect me, then I suggest you go and fiddle around with some more of those working girls you clearly like sleeping around with, anyway!”

“But-”

“No, Y/n - no buts; not anymore,” she hissed, but you couldn’t let her go like that, carefully catching her right arm desperately within your right hand, trembly though it was, by now, as if longing to secure onto a last attempt at humanity, but you were terrified it couldn’t be so easy, anymore, now that you’d gone and messed things up all over again, the way you had, now.

“Molly, please, I - I-”

“Get off me,” she demanded, her voice trembling a little again, though she wasn’t afraid; she just didn’t want to hurt you, if she tried to struggle against you, and - truth be told - she herself was scared of breaking down alongside you, at this point, remembering how broken you’d sounded, as you were reminding her of her relationship with Dutch, as you had to look on at it from the sidelines, not sure where it left you standing yourself with her, anymore, no matter how much she tried to remind you that she could never love anyone, as much as she loved - and had always found herself doing so, ever since Old Trail Rise - the fool stood in your position behind her, hands shaking all the more as you silently begged her to turn to face you again, desperate to allow her gaze to meet your own, the way it had - blissfully - before now.

“I can’t do this, without you; I - I can’t keep just-.. fucking kissing strangers anymore, and - and pretending that - that they’re you, okay? I - I just can’t-.. because - because they’re - they’re not you, a-and - and it was always you for me, Mol. The whole time, it was always you who I saw; always you who I wanted to spend every - every fucking second of every day with, because - because I-.. Molly, I - I love you - I fucking love you, okay? I always have, so - so please just - just don’t do this; don’t leave me like this, okay? Please don’t, because I honestly don’t think I can do this without you - I don’t - I don’t even think I can breathe, without you, I just-.. Mol, I-.. please.”

You broke off, heart positively trembling within your chest as your whole façade broke down again before her, face contorting as you cried quietly, eyes never leaving her’s as she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore, feeling the tell-tale sensation of eyes upon her back, prompting her to wince, before she shook her head slowly, though it pained her to abandon you in such a way, as she took a further step back, and you begrudgingly allowed your grip to loosen from her arm, before your hand dropped to your right side, limp again, as you tried to piece everything together somehow, but it had got too hard to even think properly, the only thing you could register being her eyes linked to your own, the way they had been, a brief moment ago, now.

“Please,” you whispered shakily, your voice barely audible, now, but she bowed her head, feeling weaker and somehow more vulnerable than she ever had before, by now, seeing you in such a painful state, the way that you were, now, and because of your love for her. It was - intense, to say the least, and all the more painful, especially when she found she couldn’t respond the same way to you - not when everyone was watching, now, even Dutch, unbeknownst to you, during this all encompassing moment in time, by now.

“People are staring, Miss L/n,” she began dejectedly after clearing her throat, and trying to recompose herself, somehow, knowing that if she broke down alongside you, things would be all the worse, and certainly - well, quite possibly, anyway - more dangerous for her, too, if it grew clearer to them that she - too - had been hiding such stupidly illegal feelings for you, too, the way that the law was working itself, at this point in time; a pathetic here and now scenario, to say the least about such a corrupt and incompetent legal system as was the case here, beyond bounties, and everything else that seemed to come with it, at this point in time, by now. “I think you’re tired; ya never really like this, otherwise,” she tried to excuse, but you didn’t let her pull you toward your open sleeping space with the horses (something you’d initially requested Dutch to allow you to do, thankfully agreed upon shortly after that), as you swiftly dodged her attempted embracing, before you continued fitfully, determined to try and get some other answer out of her, somehow, if not one that was truthful, anyway.

“Lie to me, then,” you managed, and she appeared taken aback by your request, as well as a little puzzled alongside the in general worry she was facing, knowing that if she didn’t somehow fix this information leak, soon, you could be hung, if one of the surveyors decided to turn you in for your words (at least, if they were being heard properly; she assumed they were, given that some of the onlookers either looked shocked, curious, disgusted, or confused, by now, during this painful moment in time, now). “If you can’t say you feel the same way way anymore, fucking lie to me, and I’ll be okay - if you still say you don’t love me, however, then prove it, and I’ll go away. I’ll fucking go, okay? And I’ll never get in your way again - I promise you I won’t, and I - I somehow still managed to never have broken any of the promises I’ve made you, even after everything, and before you say I have - those other women were nothing to me, okay? It was always you; it will always be you, Mol. Every day; every second of my life, it will be you, for me. Always you. Please - Molly, just-”

“She’s a goddamn faggot,” Bill spat, “I told you, Dutch, didn’t I?!”

You faltered again, but this time you were frozen out of fear, your eyes widening as you began to shake a little again, a light sheen of sweat across your forehead as you shook your head feebly, before warily glancing toward the audience of your and her conversation, given that Molly had bowed her head again, not sure what else to do, by now, no matter how painful this was for her, too, as well as you, alongside her, now.

“H-How - How much of that did you guys hear?” You murmured, possibly pathetically, but they didn’t answer, and you felt lost all over again, the air too warm as blood pulsed thickly in your veins, time ticking too slowly, by now, as you wondered when you might feel a bullet breaching your skull. It didn’t come.

All you could remember, before you took off toward Huckleberry, was the sound of Molly’s voice behind you, asking: “do you regret any of it, now, then?”

The crazy thing was that you didn’t. Not at all - not then, anyway.

VIII

You’d rode for what felt like hours, after that. It didn’t get you far, though; you just felt you needed to be on the move, before you allowed yourself to fall upon Valentine, again.

It had got much darker, when you hitched Huckleberry just outside of Old Trail Rise; Dewberry Creek. There was nowhere else you felt safer; more at home, than here, though you knew you should try and be careful, worried that they’d perhaps ruin this spot for you, too, given it was quite close to the current camp they were all residing within, by now. You wondered how the party could be going, if it had even begun - who knows? Sean may not even have been returned. You hoped there was a party, though, for Molly’s sake; it would be nice, for her. You hoped so, anyway.

IX

Little did you know, it was difficult for her to keep on pretending to be happy, the way she had been trying to do so, since you’d gone. Or, at least, in an average mood, anyway. She was more - absent, than conscious, trying to make a chirp here, and there, but - truth be told - it only made her feel worse, when Dutch requested to dance with her, especially when it wasn’t you she could dance with, the way she had had to sometimes before in utter secrecy, a few paces away from the others.

X

You were hardly conscious, when you found yourself walking warily down the path toward the campsite. You heard their cheers, before the music flooded your ears, albeit quietly. It was - overwhelming, to say the least, but it only got worse, when you made out the main tent, and spotted Molly and Dutch dancing together already, prompting your heart to sink all over again, somehow worse than it had before, a little while ago, by now.

You scowled subconsciously, but at the same time you wanted only the best for her, nodding gravely, before you made to walk back out of the tree lining, only to bump into Arthur, somehow, fresh from dancing with Mary-Beth, clearly.

“You came back, then, did you?” He began, trying to keep his voice low to not alert the others to your presence, somehow, though you couldn’t imagine why he was still defending your and Molly’s - predicament, like Mary-Beth had been, all those times before, now.

“I was just leaving,” you uttered, “not doing any harm, okay?”

“Oh yeah? Well I suggest you stay,” he contradicted, blocking your way, “I’ve seen you like this, before, and both times didn’t end well; you ain’t goin’ off again like this, not if I can stop you before you can, okay?”

You sighed, before shaking your head gravely, and slowly motioning toward the right-hand sheath containing one of your pistols.

“There’s no point in me staying here anymore, Arthur,” you murmured, and Arthur raised his eyebrows, before looking toward Molly and Dutch over your shoulder, one of them looking the more distant than the other, and which one it was should be obvious, by now, as he reluctantly looked back at you, a skeptical look upon his face again, by now, “they don’t want me here; Molly - she-.. she don’t want me here, either.”

“That ain’t true, though, is it?” He contradicted, and you would scoff, wondering why he was even questioning it, before you made to try and meander around him again, only for him to catch your left arm within his right hand, but the action didn’t stop you; it only made you all the more agitated, as you pulled out the pistol your hand had been hovering subtly, as well as briefly, over, before aiming it up at his forehead, prompting him to falter - only briefly - before he released your arm, and raised his hands up in surrender.

He knew he needed to be careful, when you were in a state like this. He knew you’d kill him, if he didn’t let you go, but he knew you were only doing it because you weren’t thinking clearly, and you couldn’t even deny it, the way that you were, right now, hands trembling again, and all, as you tried to keep your composure, not allowing your gaze to falter from his own, even as you slowly meandered around him, determined to get away again, though you weren’t sure what you had left to live for anymore, anyway, with Murphy gone, and Molly no longer willing to spare you any further forgivenesses, anymore. You didn’t blame her, though, of course you didn’t, but it pained you, nonetheless, to think that everything could be just-.. over, now, your eyes darkening all over again.

“You don’t tell anyone I was here,” you warned, “if anyone asks, you say I’ve left the country; you - you heard it from-.. just-.. someone, okay, preferably down at that train-station, in Valentine, and we’ll be good, okay? Just-.. please. There’s nothing left for me, here, so.. I’ll - I’ll see you around, okay? Maybe.”

“You ain’t - really leavin’, though, are you?” He inquired, and you would sigh, before turning to face him again, inches away from the tree line, at this point.

You knew you could just flee, but you couldn’t find it within you, right now, a pained expression on your face, before you shook your head, and bowed it warily again, wanting to just - disappear, if only you could, right now.

“Then where are you goin’, huh? Don’t tell me you’re just gonna - like the fool you can be - throw yourself off that damn railway again, are you?” He pried, and you rolled your eyes; nobody was ever going to let you live that down, were they?

“Dewberry Creek; you’ll find me there, but-.. if they find me; if anyone finds me, I’ll disappear, and I won’t tell you where I go next, okay? I’ve gotta go-”

“Now hold on a second-”

“I need to go, Arthur,” you insisted, a little more sharply, this time.

He sighed heavily, before nodding gravely; he knew he shouldn’t hold you back too long, especially when you could easily just kill him right then, and there, if he tried to stop you again, the way he had, before.

“Look, I-.. I ain’t gonna stop you, okay?” He reassured you, before you could protest any further, noticing how you looked about ready to pull your gun out on him all over again, fingers lingering over the holster once more, the way they had been, a brief moment ago, by now. “I just - I wanted to say that I’m sorry, that I weren’t here, earlier, to help you,” he offered, and you tried to protest again, but it didn’t stop him, as he continued strongly, this time piercing you a lot further than he had managed to do so, all those times before, now, as well, “but I also wanted to say - you’re a goddamn fuckin’ idiot sometimes, you know that? And I get that you were angry; we’re all angry sometimes, at some things or others, but Molly’s only been tryna protect you, being with Dutch, the way that she is; it ain’t anythin’ against you - even I can see that, alright? And that’s sayin’ somethin’, but if you can’t even try and understand - at least - that she’s only been tryna keep things sweet for the two of you-”

“Maybe get to the point, Morgan,” you hissed, albeit in more of a strained voice, than you had been sporting, before.

He grunted, evidently frustrated by your interruption, but he managed to keep a light head, nodding begrudgingly, before he stepped cautiously closer to you, before looking over his shoulder to make sure that the both of you were still in the clear.

“My point is - maybe you should have thought a bit more, before you began lazing about with some of those other ladies out there, alright? Now I don’t care where you end up, whether it’s Dewberry, or down at the bottom of the ocean, for all I care, but I do wanna tell you this, before I let you go; think about what Miss O’Shea really means to you, before you make any drastic decisions, okay? Maybe then things will start working out for you two again, but you gotta think about it first - understood?”

It was Arthur’s turn to try and abandon the situation, but you couldn’t give in like this, your veins surging with what was akin to anger, mixed in violently with pain; a wound close to your core, and it wouldn’t go unclosed, if you didn’t at least try to share such pains with those who crossed you with them.

“Then what happened between you and Mary? Did you think about that? Did either of you even bother to think about it? Maybe before you try and force what you’d probably call your so-called ‘wisdom’ upon me, you should think about it first; how far from the truth are you, or are you just being hypocritical, hm? Got anything to say now?” You questioned, and he chuckled sneeringly, but not completely unkindly; he knew you didn’t mean it, given the situation at hand, here; what you’d had to go through, yourself, naïve though you had been, in regard to Molly’s protection of you, as well as of the way in which you had been treating yourself, and those around you, in response to your current (albeit perhaps unnecessary, at current) far-fetched insecurities still playing, dreadfully at hand here.

“Just think about it, alright?” He repeated nonchalantly, but he didn’t disappear, at first, sighing a little begrudgingly as he turned back to you, and apologetically bowed his head a little, all over again, though he wasn’t sure why he was bothering anymore, at this point in time, now. “And - if it really concerns you that much, it ain’t wisdom, it’s just common sense, okay? Take care of yourself, now - you’re gonna need to, if you’re really considering sleepin’ back in that old place again,” he remarked, and you scoffed, before managing a sarcastic ‘ha-ha’ in response to his observation, unnecessary though it was, or was that just your sense of deflection again, the way it had been, present for a little while, by now?

He gave a little respectful nod, before walking back down to the centre of the campsite, and sitting at the fire again, the way he had been before, Sean singing already, the way you thought he might be, even when he wasn’t drunk, whether he was, or wasn’t, at this point in time, now. You’d tried not to glance over at Molly, again, or where she had been, before, but even if you did - the way you couldn’t help, but do, in the end - she wasn’t there anymore.

The only thing left was the tell-tale stutter of your heartbeat, as you begrudgingly turned yourself away from the events before you, before dragging yourself back through the tree-line, and back toward a centre of hell, seemingly over, and over, and over again.

XI

You hardly slept at all, that same night. You’d disappeared into Valentine again, your heart constantly feeling heavy, the way it had before. You were almost seduced again, after drinking quite a bit more than you had been planning to, but it wasn’t long, before you were thrown out of the saloon, your right cheek grazing the mud upon the ground, wet and slippy, the way it was, now.

“Now that’s just shameful,” a familiar voice remarked, and you groaned; you’d hoped he’d leave you alone, the way he said he would. Or did he? You couldn’t remember, at this point, as you looked up to find Arthur standing judgementally to the left of you, thumbs tucked away in his belt as he raised his eyebrows down at you, wondering how you’d got yourself into a state such as this by now.

“No,” you uttered, “leave - now-”

“I can stay if I like to,” he interjected sharply, and you rolled your eyes, before wincing as you pushed yourself up off of the ground again, jaw throbbing painfully after you’d been served a punch by one of the other rowdy members of this muddy public state. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, huh? You say you’re gonna at least try and be different, but here we are - you really ain’t the committed type, are you? No wonder Molly up and dissed you like that-”

“Not helping,” you murmured feebly, and he sighed heavily, before offering you a hand up off of the ground; he wanted you to at least try and keep your dignity, if nothing else was possible to do so, by now.

“I know you said you don’t want me here - that’s fair enough,” he reassured you, just a little, “but I’ve got somethin’ you might wanna see - what do you say? You wanna see it, or-?”

You appeared skeptical, but it didn’t last for long, before you looked toward the hitching post outside, hearing a familiar and light-sounding whinny, and felt what it had been like before, to have your ability to breathe punched right out of you, again, the way it was, as soon as you saw Murphy - in all her Friesian glory - standing a few paces away from you, by now.

“Holy shit-”

“Funny that; I found her just outside the camp not long after you left, and - yes - she was doin’ a shit, but I think she’s unpacked herself, by now - she should have, anyway,” he mused, and you didn’t know what to say, warily looking back toward him as you winced, and tried to recompose yourself, a brief wave of guilt flooding over you, as soon as you reminded yourself of the way you’d poorly treated him, earlier, even when everything he’d told you was true; it was all your fault - all of this was; Molly had always just been trying to protect you both, and you didn’t doubt at all by now that you’d just ruined it, but you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol talking, when you had such thoughts, the way you were, now.

“Why?” You managed, your voice trembling a little, and Arthur would appear confused by the question, tilting his head partially in your direction as he raised his eyebrows again, waiting patiently for you to evaluate on what you were trying to ask of him, right now. “Shit, sorry - I just meant-.. I’m grateful; of course I am, but-.. why did you bring her to me? After - y’know-..” You fell quiet, a pained expression on your face again, and his expression softened, before he reassuringly lifted his right hand up to your left shoulder, seeing you were struggling to get past the hurt of it all again; it had been blow after blow, today - that much was clear, anyway.

“She belongs to you, Y/n; she ain’t my horse, or any of the others’ - if there’s anywhere she’d wanna be, it’s with you,” he added gently, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the same can be said of someone else back at home, right? But where you go with that is up to you, not me, or poor Murphy over here.” He delicately scratched behind Murphy’s left ear, prompting her to snort a little, before she impatiently stamped her right hoof again, a simple gesture to show that she wanted to move along, now - god, you’d missed her. “Take care of her, okay? And take care of yourself, too, at that,” he concluded a little more carefully, as he made to back away again, “you know where I am, if you need anything, too - I’ll see you around then, will I?”

“Maybe,” you replied, but you sounded unsure, worrying him a little; wherever you might go, he didn’t doubt you’d get into trouble, especially when you found yourself in a state like this, the way you did, now. You sighed gravely, before trying again. “Sure - I’ll see you around, but don’t expect me to go sneakin’ around the camp, ‘cause I’m not a rat, nor a rattlesnake, okay? Oh - before you go,” you added quickly, as he mounted himself up again upon Guinevere, nodding his head patiently to show he was listening, even before he looked back over at you, again, “thank you - and - be careful, okay? I heard Mary’s been around again; there’s talk, just-.. watch she doesn’t gun for you, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah - maybe you just worry about your situation, okay? I’ll handle mine, but you’re welcome, anyway. Bye, now,” he concluded swiftly, but not unkindly, as he drew away, not wanting to discuss Mary any further, though he knew he’d have to acknowledge her recent invitation to come see her again, soon, even after everything she’d already asked of him, over the years, a little while ago, now.

You, however. You stuck around for a little longer, shaking your head a little disbelievingly as you drew ever closer to Murphy, not sure what to do, at first, before you have into tears, and threw your arms around her neck again, the way you’d done, a few times before, now.

“Where the hell were you, girl?” You questioned, as if expecting a response - any at all, from her.

Instead, the Friesian snorted again, before she tossed her mane, and made to try and nibble at your hair-ends again.

You giggled softly, your hands shaking a a little as your eyes met her’s, forehead against her snout as you never let her go, afraid of her disappearing again, somehow, the way she had before, not too long ago, now.

“I missed you so much,” you cooed, and she blinked nonchalantly, before pressing her nostrils deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing lightly as you smiled lovingly back at her, wondering how you could have let her go like that; how stupid you had been before, compared to how even more stupid you were being more now, somehow. Your eyes darkened a little again, as soon as you were reminded of it. “You won’t believe it, girl - but-..” You sighed shakily, and she continued to try and eat your hair again as you did, innocent to it all, no matter what she’d seen, you being her dangerous rider, and all. “Mur,” you continued slowly, almost dejectedly, before you looked her right in the eye again, tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat as you did, “I did a bad thing.”

XII

You didn’t spend much time outside of the abandoned structure; the embodiment of Old Trail Rise, itself.

You sighed heavily, before turning over upon your makeshift bed, creaky and dusty though it was, by now. It hadn’t been inhabited for ages, though you had tried to make visits every so often, when you were still a part of the gang, the way you believed you couldn’t be, now.

You heard Murphy snorting outside, probably hoofing at the dirt, and you wondered if things would even be able to improve, now, after the way things had been going for you, recently. It all just seemed - hopeless, really, whenever you were reminded of Molly again, and how you’d probably never be able to even hear her voice again, without being under threat of being lynched, somehow.

You grunted, trying to force the thoughts from your mind, before you got up off of the bed, and pushed yourself warily toward the ladder, your satchel resting to the left of it, the way it did, now.

“Seriously?” You uttered, as you’d finished filtering through it, only to find you’d run out of food again, already, though it had only been a few days, since you’d managed to go out hunting, the way you did, a few days ago, by now, albeit not extremely successfully as you would have liked your survival attempts to be, eventually, if they ever could be more efficient - a notion you often dreamt of being able to sport, if only it were easier to achieve, than it seemed to be, right now. “Fuck,” you spat, before you slung the satchel over your shoulder, and pulled yourself up the ladder, though you knew you’d have to go back down into your personal abyss, soon, just to retrieve your hat and coat, the wind concealing a heavier chill in the air, than it usually tended to, the way it did, now.

For once, Murphy looked excited to see you, rearing partially, before tossing her head in your direction, and whinnying for you to give her attention again, though you didn’t miss the way her eyes sparkled mischievously, the way they did, by now.

“That’s right, girl,” you cooed gently, as you took out an oat cake for her, before giving her a soft pat on the neck, “we’ve got some ground to make, just for a little while, okay?”

She snorted, before stamping her right hoof impatiently again as you descended back into your humble abode, before breaching the surface once more with the correct attire, this time, but it didn’t hide much of the way you warily looked around you again, before you pulled yourself up into the saddle, and eased Murphy back onto the narrow dirt road, cautiously all over again.

XIII

As her hooves pounded the dirt, you kept a keen eye out for any game you could drop, not that it was something you liked to do. You hated it, actually, but you didn’t know much else about any other way you could survive, especially when you couldn’t just keep going to the Valentine saloon, and get yourself talked into either eating there, or being further seduced there, the way you had, too many times, so many days and hours before now.

You sighed - no wonder Molly had given up on you, by now. You winced, but it didn’t make you feel any better, when you noticed a whitetail deer grazing a few paces away from you, unaware of your presence - so far, anyway.

“Steady, girl,” you cooed, and the mare snorted in a disgruntled manner, before she tossed her head again, but she didn’t push forward, stopping in place, as you looked toward the deer again, and warily drew out your Springfield from its place, slotted within the saddle, the way it had been, a brief moment ago, by now.

Predictably, your hands shook; you still weren’t used to it - of course you weren’t. You grunted, trying to keep your gaze still, but it still didn’t make things any better. When you took the shot, the bullet spiralled, god knows where.

“Fuck-!” You hissed sharply, evidently frustrated, but it didn’t make anything change. “Shit,” you continued, as you tried to catch up to the animal, but it had soon escaped your gaze, once it disappeared into the too familiar tree-line you used to hide behind, the way you had, all those times before, now.

You sighed heavily, before deciding there was nothing you could, but to give in, if you wanted to do things properly. You slid the gun back into the saddle, before you encouraged Murphy away from the area, but you didn’t want to give up, there, as you cantered her toward the river just to the left of where you were, now, thinking that if there was anything you could do, perhaps you could catch a few fish simply by having your mare down them, since you were no good - either - with one of those flimsy fishing rods you’d seen people using quite regularly, recently.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was what you thought you should go for, anyway, as you rode swiftly alongside it for a moment, before easing Murphy into a idle position again, subconsciously glancing up at the cliff edge, where - just resting upon it - the others should still be, probably laughing; planning. You sighed heavily, wondering what Molly could be doing, right now. You hoped she was happy, at least, as you stretched a little, before dismounting your mare, and taking a brief moment to just sit, and splash some water upon your face. It was nice, to say the least - taking a moment to just.. bask, in your surroundings, though it was so close to the campsite, and probably deemed you stupid, for even making such a decision to come here, the way you had, a brief few moments ago, now.

“So - what do you say, girl? Wanna help me catch a fish, or two, or-?” You faltered, just as an arrow whizzed by your head. You cursed sharply, just managing to dodge it. “Fuck, no,” you spat, through gritted teeth, “what the fuck are they-?”

You faltered, as another projectile - a bullet, this time, shot by you, narrowly missing your shoulder. You managed to push yourself up hastily, making to get back onto Murphy, but it was the flash of a white sheet upon the ground beside you that caught your eye; material pierced through the arrow, like it was there purposefully, though you couldn’t imagine why, your hands shaking as you cautiously looked up at the cliff edge, hearing Bill laughing - it was definitely him; you’d recognise the laugh anywhere, before a harsher voice sounded out after it, sounding like it was commanding him to stop what he was doing, a definite cue for you to swiftly dive for the arrow, prying it out of the ground, material still intact, before you swiftly pulled yourself into the saddle again, and gently squeezed for Murphy to get moving back toward Dewberry, though you couldn’t deny you were worse for wear, returning with no more game you could eat - the very thing you’d been trying to track, in the first place.

At least, though, it wasn’t for nothing, now that you had secured the silky material, having what looked written upon it the letters of a sweet hand, one of which you could only tell that it had come from someone you knew too well, by now, and that was - of course - the very person you knew could destroy you, somehow or other - Molly O’Shea, as you felt your heart beating way too swiftly again, before you dropped off of Murphy, hardly noticing the light smudge of blood that began to trickle down from the palm of your right hand, over and over and over again, by now.

XIV

“I didn’t know you could use a bow that well,” you remarked, and Molly faltered as soon as she heard your voice. You’d actually done what she’d told you to; you’d showed up, and it was almost enough for her to smile about, if she wasn’t cursed to remember what she already knew; to think about the other women she didn’t doubt you’d fooled around with, all those times before, now.

“So you got my note, then?” She guessed, before turning reluctantly to face you, you still perched atop your mare awkwardly as you nodded slowly, a pained expression on your face again, seeing how her eyes lit up in the moonlight, the way they did, now.

“Of course I did,” you answered, “but-.. even if I hadn’t, Mol, I-.. I’d still-”

“Don’t,” she interjected a little more feebly, her eyes darkening as you frowned, before nodding gravely again, bowing your head as you did, before you cleared your throat, and looked cautiously around the area, as if expecting someone to just grab you, and hogtie you, but you trusted her enough to not lead you into such a bushwhacking, though - at the same time - you knew you wouldn’t blame her, if she decided in the end she wanted to, somehow.

“Too soon?” You asked, and she scoffed. You carefully dismounted Murphy, before timidly inching closer to her, even as your hands shook a little, and lungs seemed to not be able to work as well, anymore.

“What do you think it is, Y/n? After what you pulled back there-”

“I know,” you reassured her gently, your voice just mere moments away from cracking, as you’d tried to continue, the way you did, then. “Molly, I - I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid; I know it was, I just-.. I - I couldn’t-”

“I should have told ya I love ya more, right? That’s why this-.. this is-”

“No,” you interjected softly, not wanting to blame herself for this, when you’d been the one to lose control of yourself, the way that you had, before, “Mol, that’s - that’s not-”

“It is, Y/n,” she contradicted a little more shakily, and you faltered when you noticed the way her eyes glistened, tears threatening to breach them as she sniffled barely audibly, before shaking her head, and lowering her gaze down to the ground again, as if she were afraid of what you might say, or do - or feel, if you saw her in pain, the way that she was, now. “The others-.. they should never have.. I - I should have been-”

“Mol, stop,” you pleaded, sounding on the brink yourself, by now, and when you heard a strained sob escaping her, you knew you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You allowed your façade to drop again alongside her own, crying quietly as you embraced her, fingers lost within her hair as you buried your face into the crook of her neck, silently begging her to forgive you; to please not leave you, but it was painful, even thinking such things, as you were terrified, yourself, that you couldn’t make her happy. You couldn’t make her smile, and it only hurt so much more, like a pack of bricks were being lugged against your chest again and again; it was all you could feel, since the day you first thought you’d lost her. The day she’d brought you back to the others, after the Murfree Brood had tried to break you; the day you’d officially become a member of the Van Der Linde Gang. You’d only done it for her, and that was all you could think about, now; you could only do what you did to stay with her, and now you’d been doing the exact opposite, just because of the tinge of something fierce you felt, whenever you had to see her with Dutch, the way you did so often, before now.

You drew in a shaky breath, before holding her at arms’ length. Her gaze instantly met yours’, and your heart stopped, just for a moment. It almost felt like the first time you saw her. You could almost smile at it; the comfort of such a warm memory as it wrapped itself around you. She lifted her left hand up to your right cheek, and you felt warm - much too warm, at this point.

“There’s something I-..” She winced, but you were patient with her - of course you were, as she stammered a little for a moment, before managing to find her words again, somehow not long after you’d held her free hand in yours’, the way you did, a brief moment ago, now. “Will you - I need ya, Y/n - I - I need ya to promise me somethin’ - can ya do that for me? Just - Just for tonight, at least, I just-.. Y/n-..” She faltered, her expression stuttering again, and you smiled softly over at her, before nodding your head faintly again, and trying not to let your gaze drop down to her lips again, the way that they’d been longing to do so, for too long of a time, by now.

“I’d promise you anything, Miss O’Shea,” you admitted truthfully, “I-.. I’ll always-..”

“Promise me ya won’t leave,” she managed, and you would appear taken aback, a puzzled expression on your face, before she continued, and things seemed to make sense again, but it frustrated you to think that your brain hadn’t registered properly the context of her request, before she went on to clarify it for you, the way she did, then, “Arthur, he - he told me you-.. he told me he saw ya, and - and that you said-..”

“What I say is what I say, Mol,” you reminded her slowly, your eyes never leaving her own as you did, as if breaching her soul, the way hers had too always been able to do so, so many times, as well as long and close to blissful years, before you’d both begun to run with the herd, you way you used to, until what had happened, not too long ago, now, at least. You wondered if they tried to hunt you; the ones who wanted to anyway - the way Bill had reacted was enough to suggest that maybe he wasn’t willing to give up on killing you, yet, though you weren’t sure why he was so hostile toward you, when you suspected too that he was somewhat like yourself, and Molly, just less willing to admit, or even possibly acknowledge such a possibly, yet. “But what I do.. I love you, Molly, and I love more than anything being able to even say that, but-.. to - to show you that I do, too-.. it makes.. it makes things seem - brighter, than they were before. You do that for me; you always have, and you always will. So.. that being said - if you tell me to stay, I’ll stay - if you want me to go, I’ll-..” You drew in a painful breath again, though it almost shook you, if you were honest; you only hoped she didn’t notice it - you didn’t want to upset her any further to see you, too, like this, if it had even had the ability to do so, to begin with, now, the way it did, then. “I’ll go,” you mustered up a little more dejectedly, your voice straining, and she shook her head slowly, as if it were subconscious, rather than a fully conscious action; she didn’t know what she’d do, if you disappeared completely. It was painful enough, to know you were no longer residing within the camp anymore, the way you did, all those times, before now.

“No, Y/n - no; don’t ya dare ever leave just because I told ya to - that - that’s not-.. I - I could never want ya to go, even - even if I’m angry, or - I-.. I don’t know, I just - just stay, Y/n, please - don’t ya dare even think to disappear on me, because if you do ya don’t know what you’ll be doin’ to me, by going away, a-and I’m sorry if that sounds selfish, but - but I-.. I-..”

You shook your head hastily, before smiling lovingly over at her, and she didn’t know what to do for a moment, her eyes locking with your own again as her chest rose and fell much too fast, but it wasn’t just because she was scared - it was because you were finally here, again, stood so close to her that it was hard to even think clearly, and she couldn’t let you go, again, no matter how much it pained her to think in such a way, after everything that had taken place between you both recently, your easy being seduced and all.

“Mol-”

“Can - Can I kiss ya, Y/n? Of - Of course it’s okay if ya don’t want me to, I just - I really need-”

You didn’t hesitate. You carefully cupped her face within your hands, before you leaned forward to delicately connect your lips to her own. It was hard to even think, at first; to even consider - you guessed that was why it was hard to stop, the way that it was, as she swiftly deepened the kiss, and you let her, willingly; you’d missed how it had felt, to be like this with her, after a little while - and still quite a painful time to endure, on the whole - and to feel it again, well… it was nice, to say the least. You almost felt safe, again, but it didn’t last for long, especially when you heard the clicking of a gun’s safety being turned off, the way you did, a brief moment ago, now.

“Put ‘em up, Miss L/n - now,” a gnarly voice sounded out, and you didn’t know what to even think, but still you cautiously raised your hands up, as Molly appeared just as scared as you did, unbeknownst to you, the way she did, then.

“Bill,” you acknowledged gruffly, “how’re you doin’? You look well-”

“You shut it,” he spat, and you scowled subconsciously down at the ground, but you knew you couldn’t do anything about it - not at gunpoint, anyway, the way that you were, now.

“Look, it - it’s not - this isn’t the way it looks, okay?” You tried to negotiate, but he scoffed, before glancing over at Molly, who hid her face, not sure what to do with herself, anymore, considering the way it seemed as if there was no way the both of you could truly be free together, the way you’d been dreaming of being, the way you were, ever since you’d first met her, the way you had, a few years ago, by now.

“Is that right? Well, you wanna know what I think? I think you were all over poor Miss O’Shea, here, and that weren’t fair on her, was it, now? Molly, I suggest you go down to Dutch; he’ll protect you from her, no doubt about that,” he stated, and you rolled your eyes, trying to fight back a heavy sigh, before you kept your head low again, your heart feeling as if it were bleeding with the force of the situation, the way that it was, now.

“But - I - she’s right; this isn’t-”

“You should go, Mol,” you managed, not daring to look over at her, no matter how much it pained you to do so, feeling her gaze on you, the way it was, now.

“Y/n-”

“Just go, Molly,” you continued, a little more sharply, this time, but it didn’t stop your voice from cracking, as a lump formed within your throat again, making it all the more harder to breathe than it had ever been, before. “You’ve clearly thought about this, haven’t you? That’s why you told me to come here - why - why would you-.. I don’t know why I even thought-..” You stammered a little, before cursing yourself for being so pathetic, and her heart dropped for a moment as she shook her head, piecing your words together.

“Do - Do ya seriously think I could do this to ya? After everythin’? Y/n-”

“Why else would you want me to come back? You see, Mol, this - this is exactly why we can’t have nice things, in this life,” you spat, and she appeared taken aback again, all she could feel being a steady cracking of what lived within her, alongside the burning tinge of anger, and frustration, at how you were even able to think that she’d betray you like this, the way you did, now. Especially when she was reminded of what you’d done to her, too; sleeping around with all those other women down in Valentine, the way you had, not too long ago, by now. “Just-.. Just go, okay? I-.. I was wrong to think that maybe I could trust you, still, even after-.. maybe I was wrong to even trust myself, as well as the others, too,” you uttered, and she felt cold, the wind biting at her even more as she tried to harness the war going on within her, but it was hard to control anything, now, as she shook her head gravely, before pushing herself to walk away, no matter how much it hurt her to do so, the way she did, then, but she didn’t know what else she could do, given that you were at gun-point still, and she could be incriminated, too, if she stayed any longer, than she already had, a brief moment ago, the way she did, then.

“How touching of you,” Bill remarked sneeringly, “I never thought of you as being one of those sloppy romantics.”

“Just-.. do it, okay? You’ve got your gun - probably got a few bullets still, too. So do it; pull the trigger, Bill - I won’t fight; there’s no point in me even trying, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry - I’ll do it, but I think I deserve to have some fun with you first, before I do-”

“That’s funny,” you mused, and he would appear confused, given he hadn’t told a joke, and here you were, laughing as you shook your head, no matter how much things were burning within you, too, the way they were, now, since Molly had gone - even more so, now.

“I ain’t tellin’ you any jokes, you idiot - don’t push me, or I swear you’ll regret it; you always will, until I put a dang bullet through ya-”

“Y’know, you tried to threaten that O’Driscoll’s set, but I honestly think you don’t have your own pair to do it, yourself,” you admitted, without hesitation, at this point, and he gritted his teeth, evidently affected by your claim, and though you tried to continue, he didn’t let you, as he set his index finger over the trigger, before aiming his gun straight toward your heart, and - when you thought about how the sky looked so pretty today - the gun-shot rang out, and you didn’t know what else you could bother to think about, anymore. Well, anything that wasn’t Molly O’Shea; it was all you could determine, anymore.

No matter what, she was all you could ever truly think about, and it was then that you collapsed, your ears ringing wildly again.

XV

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you managed, your voice soft; barely audible, as you and Molly were laid together, arms brushing in the best way possible. Your forehead was against hers, and your eyes were interlinked again, the way you wished they could be, forever, if it weren’t for everything seeming to be set against you both, the way it was, then.

She couldn’t help, but smile back at you, the fingers of her left hand trailing gently your left cheek, and it was enough to make your heart pound even faster than Murphy’s hooves could ever go. You drew in a light, but nonetheless shaky breath as you admired her facial features, wondering what you’d done to deserve her love, light as it always was, ever since you’d first found her, and she’d saved you from what would no doubt turn out to be a gloomy life, if it hadn’t been you she’d found herself nonchalantly bumping into, the way she did, blissfully that day.

“But you’re not wrong, Y/n - you’re exactly right, Miss L/n. I love ya; you know I do. I always have, and that’ll never change - ya know that, don’t ya?” She inquired, though she looked scared to do so, as if worried that maybe you didn’t know, even after everything the both of you had already been through, before now, the way you had, then.

You appeared taken aback by her question; you didn’t want her to think you doubted her, especially not when you could never doubt her in such a way. At least, you thought you couldn’t, before everything had kicked off again, the way it did, much sooner than you thought it would, the way it would, soon.

“Of course I know, Mol; I could never not know; I love you, Molly O’Shea - I always will, I promise; I could never stop, a-and - sometimes, I’m scared that’s all I’ll ever know, now. You’re everything to me, Mol; never change, okay? Especially if you think it’s for me, because I love you, the way you are, and always have been. I-.. I think I even-.. shit - I’m sorry. Just - Just know that I’d do anything to make you happy, Mol, because I would, and I will, no matter what. If you were in danger-”

“Don’t,” she managed, sounding a tad bit more alarmed than she had, before. “Y/n,” she continued gently, before sighing, and appearing a little worried again, but you nonetheless managed to soothe her, just by giving her left hand a gentle squeeze, before you placed an even softer kiss upon it, making her heart stutter all over again, somehow, the way it did, then, and again, and again - steadily, but it still felt - overwhelming, to say the least. To feel such a way, for a person; for one living thing. She still didn’t know what to make of it, sometimes, but she was glad she had you - she always would be, no matter what the cost could be, of being in love with another woman, the way she was, now, and didn’t doubt she always would be, even thinking that it wouldn’t stop; this feeling, even after her heart stopped beating, whenever that would happen, either too soon, or just at the right time; natural, anyway. “Y/n, I - I don’t want ya to think that ya have to do anything like that, for me, because ya don’t - I promise ya, you’ll never have to save me from anything, I don’t even want ya to worry about me, really, I just-.. I want ya to be happy, okay? That’s what matters to me most of all, well - that, and the fact that I love ya, anyway, and it’ll always only even be you who I want beside me; it always will, no matter what the future has in store us, I promise ya, even - just don’t go and do anything stupid for me, will ya? Please?” She practically pleaded, her heart beating much too fast again as you couldn’t help, but wince, realising you’d got too lost in everything about her, so much so that you forgot she was expecting an answer from you, as you grinned sheepishly over at her, timidly so, before you shrugged, not sure if you could make such a promise to her, when all you wanted to do was to keep her safe, no matter what that meant for you in doing so, like you knew you would, soon, if ever it came down to it, anyway.

“So d’you think that you wouldn’t? It’s fine, if not - I also don’t know how I’d feel about you trying to protect me, too, so-”

“Always,” she answered, without hesitation - it almost scared you, if her eyes didn’t sparkle alongside her words. Besides, you were determined to stop her, valuing her life completely over her own, no matter what, and nothing would be changing that, any time soon, by now.

You guessed that why you found it humbling, to say the least, as well as even slightly frightening, when you grew conscious again of everything around you, before you realised Molly was wounded, laying a few paces away from you - sounding to be in sheer agony - the way she was, now.

XVI

You wasted no time, scrambling clumsily toward her as your eyes widened, and hands shook too vividly.

“No,” you managed; you could hear the words escaping your lips, but you couldn’t feel them leaving; everything was numb. She’d pushed you away, that much was clear, judging from where the blood was spewing, just beneath her hand, as if she were trying to hide it from you, not looking to make much effort in regard to putting pressure upon her wound, the way you tried to do so, as Bill looked positively panicked where he was stood, not expecting such a turn in events as this was; he had been set on downing you, not Molly, and now he was afraid of what the others might do to him, if they found out, which he knew they might, soon, if he didn’t make a decision, soon.

Instead, he ran. You scowled, before you shook your head, and swiftly unsheathed one of your own throwing knives. You couldn’t let him get away with it, carefully aiming, before you took your shot, managing to embed the blade within his right leg, just under where the back of his kneecap was meant to be.

“Shit-!” He cursed, evidently alarmed as he staggered, the pain steering through him as he spat out another curse, this one less audible than the other was, but he still tried to get up, only to find his legs failing him again.

Good. You hoped you’d hit a nerve, at least, to prompt such a weak reaction out of him, the way you did then, him struggling as you glanced back down at Molly, not sure what to do with yourself anymore again, especially when you were seeing her like this, bleeding out and evidently vulnerable, the way she was, then.

“Why-?” You continued, and she winced, a pained expression on her face as she buried it within your left arm, trying not to cry again. “No - no, Mol, why - why the fuck would you even-”

Voices. Hushed, but alarmed nonetheless; they knew - they must know, by now. You winced, warily looking toward the campsite’s direction, only for you to have your breath hitch when you heard a twig snap somewhere to the left of you, but that wasn’t all. There were guns; you could hear their rattling as they were carried; the clicking of their safety settings being adjusted. If you weren’t careful, they’d probably think you’d have done this. You were wrong to come back, in more ways than one; this was all you could determine, now, especially as Molly’s blood continuously spilled out upon the palms of your hands, now colder than ever, as you feared you could truly lose her, now, if you didn’t get her to safety, and soon, somehow.

Well, that would have been easy, however, given that the others were nearby, but you didn’t want them to probably kill you, before you could be sure that she was okay, the way you begged for her to be, then, albeit silently, your now bloody right hand resting upon the back of her head as you tried to stay strong for her, but it was much too hard a task, given she looked to be getting paler already, a notion that terrified you more than it should have, as you hastily shook your head, and willed for them to find you both already, if only they’d hurry up, and could ensure her safety, sooner rather than later, by now.

“Tell me again, Y/n,” Molly mustered, and you faltered upon hearing her voice, a pained expression on her face again, “do - do ya still think I could do this to ya, e-even if I-.. n-now that I’ve-..”

“Mol - shit-” You faltered, noticing Javier breaking the tree line first, but you were too late to react, as the sharp point of an arrow buried itself within your right shoulder, and it was then that you knew you had no choice, but to give into the imminent death you had ahead of you, no matter how much it pained you to do so, your vision blackening, before you found yourself falling unconscious beside her, feeling everything shattering within you again, especially when you knew there was still so much you wanted to tell her, not that you had much choice in being able to do so, anymore, the way you’d hoped you could, before.

XVII

It pained the both of you, when you somehow founding yourself awakening the next morning, wondering why your body was aching, the way it did, then.

Molly was sat beside you, her heart skipping a beat, as soon as she noticed you had finally come back to her, but at the same time she still thought about how much it had hurt, to hear all you’d said before; to hear the doubt in your voice; you saying you doubted her, effectively, when Bill had found out about you both, the way he did, not too long ago, by now.

“I didn’t think you’d wanna be here, with me,” you admitted, a pained expression on your face, though the tell-tale stuttering of your heart beat had thrummed again, the way it did, as soon as you saw her, the way you did, then, “Mol, I-”

“Of course I’m here, Y/n,” she interjected softly, and you faltered, your heart skipping a beat again as your gaze met her own, glinting a little with it, as soon as you felt her resting her left hand upon your right one, the way she did, a brief moment ago, now, “I-… I love ya, Miss L/n; ya know I do - I always have-”

You appeared taken aback, as well as a little worried, but it didn’t seem as if anyone else was around, at the moment, luckily enough. You had her all to yourself again, somehow - probably not for long, though, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, and she would tilt her head partially over at you, wondering why you felt as if you had to apologise to her, the way you did, then, but she didn’t have to question you, before you managed to continue, as scared as you were to do so, however, for fear of what she might think of you, especially when you’d been so close to losing her, and could still possibly lose her, if you weren’t careful yourself, somehow, “for - for everything, Mol, I-.. I should never have-”

“Ah, don’t worry yourself about it, alright? Just rest up, okay?” She cooed gently, and you winced, before nodding gravely, but you still felt empty, the words caught within you, the way that they were, now, lodged within your throat painfully, like you couldn’t pry them out, no matter how much you wished you could do so, right now.

“You should be resting too, Mol - your wound-”

“It’s fine, now - just about, anyway; don’t worry about it, please; don’t even worry yourself about me, will ya? They patched me up just fine,” she reassured you, and you couldn’t deny you felt a little warmer, as well as a little more at ease, now that you knew she couldn’t be taken away, now, like you’d been worried she could be, a little while before, now.

“And what did they do to me?” You asked, genuinely curious, and she appeared taken aback, before wincing, and subconsciously gesticulating toward your wound, which had also been patched up, by now, though your body was still achy, and something was clearly still wearing off, somehow.

“We’re both going to be okay, I promise ya,” she cooed, “Charles, he - he used one of his poison arrows just to subdue ya, but after that he gave ya some of his miracle cure and Ginseng, and it seemed to do a mighty good job on ya - mighty, to be sure.”

“You tryna sell it to me, or just praise it?” You inquired, and she winced, before shaking her head, though a soft smile played upon her lips as she did, evidently happy to see that you were acting a bit more like yourself again, the way you had, all those times before, now.

“To be honest with ya - I wouldn’t mind sellin’ it, after it brought ya back to me, the way it did; I thought I was gonna lose ya, Y/n, a-and it - it-..” She sighed, and you frowned, before nodding gravely again, and gently squeezing her hand, again. It was so soft, in your’s; you’d missed the feeling. The smile came back even more, when she found herself melting into your touch even more, thumb brushing against the back of your hand, before she looked up at you again, wondering why it made her cheeks feel as warm as they did, especially when her eyes met yours’ so vividly, the way they did then.

“I think-.. if - if things-..” You sighed a little exasperatedly again, and she winced, appearing worried as she cautiously tracked your words, wondering if they would hurt her again, the way they had, all those times before, now. “If we go on, the way we did, before; if - if they let us-.. I think we need to talk about what happened last night, before we do,” you admitted warily, though it terrified you, to think about it, all over again, the way you had, cautiously before now. “I just-.. it hurts, Mol - it really-.. and - and when I think about it again, I can just-.. I can still remember the way you taste, and - and I - I can’t, Mol, I just - I can’t - not without you, okay? Never without you; I love you, and I’ll never stop; I can’t stop, I just - you’re everything to me, a-and I - I-”

“Am I, er - maybe interruptin’ something, between you two?” Arthur inquired, and you faltered upon hearing his voice, your blood running cold as you did, but - at the same time - it relieved you, that it wasn’t anyone else, the way you’d suspected it might be, before.

“Not at all, Mr. Morgan,” Molly reassured, though she appeared a little more dejected, since he’d come in, the way he did; it looked as if you both were within the security of her and Dutch’s tent, from where you were laying, the tent flaps drawn on both sides, as they fell back again after Arthur had entered, the way he did, then.

“Good, ‘cause you don’t wanna be gettin’ yourselves into any more trouble, now, do you?” He questioned, and Molly rolled her eyes, before nodding gravely, though it pained her to do so, the way she did, then.

“I-.. I guess,” she murmured, and Arthur nodded sympathetically; he knew it was hard for the two of you, especially when he knew himself how painful something as stupid as ‘love’ - in his opinion, anyway - could be, the way it seemed to be, then, with Mary, but he was at least committed to trying to leave it behind, somehow, no matter how difficult it was to do so, especially when he’d recently seen her again, against your and Mary-Beth’s advice to avoid doing so, the way it was, not too long ago, now.

“Look, I - I know this is hard on you two, but-.. y’all are already in a bad place; if it goes any further than it already has-“

“Haven’t ya got anywhere better to be, right now, Arthur?” She questioned, and he sighed heavily, before shaking his head, and bowing it, all over again.

“I just wanted to help you two, okay? I don’t know why the world is the way it is; I don’t know why it’s as harsh on y’all, the way it is, but-.. there’s nothing left to stop it with; nothing either of you can do to change it, and I’m sorry for that. Look, I - I gotta head out and meet Hosea, but y’all have seriously got to be more careful - seriously, okay? If you want to keep each other safe, then protect yourselves, okay? Are we clear, now?”

“Arthur,” you protested feebly, but he shook his head sharply, determined to get the message across, somehow, the way he knew he should, right now, just to keep things at least - comfortable, for you too; it was better to have this, than to have a noose around either, or both of your necks, that was for sure.

“I said are. We. Clear? Both of you,” he persisted, and you grunted, before warily glancing up at Molly, and she appeared just as disgruntled as you did, maybe even more, but she nonetheless nodded, though firm such a movement was, the way it was, then.

“We’re clear, Arthur, just-.. go and see what Mr. Matthews wants with you, okay? Otherwise he’ll think you don’t want to meet up with him, or whatever,” you murmured, and Arthur snorted, before shaking his head, though he didn’t do it unkindly, nor as sharply as he had before.

“Oh, don’t worry; he’s a patient man, but - I can see you wanna be alone, together; I’ll head out, don’t worry - take care of yourselves, okay?” He concluded a little more brightly, before he nodded his head respectfully toward the both of you, and disappeared back through the tent flaps again.

‘So-’ You both began, before wincing, you timidly rubbing the back of your neck as she herself appeared a little more flustered than she had, before.

“You start,” you offered, and she would appear taken aback, not sure, but you were adamant you wanted her to continue, and she would sigh, seeing you were serious, before she reluctantly continued, and found herself stammering again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” she cooed gently, though her voice briefly trembled as she did, “I - I should have.. I-.. I’m sorry, Miss L/n-.. but I promise you, that - that no matter what, or - or if you - if ya still want to be open, that - that it won’t make me go; I’ll never leave ya, Y/n, I - I can’t leave ya, I-.. just please - don’t - don’t let me lose ya, okay? I can’t lose ya-.. I love ya, Miss L/n-.. I’ve always-..”

“And-.. And if I-.. I didn’t want to be with those women, again? Would - Would you still-?” You inquired slowly, though it still terrified you, even if you weren’t sure why, at such a notion as you’d introduced to her, the way you did, a brief moment ago, by now.

Molly hastily held your hands within her own again, before she leaned forward, a shaky breath escaping her as small tears threatened to leak from her eyes again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/n - never,” she insisted, her voice a little more determined, now, as she delicately connected her forehead to your’s again, “I love ya, you know I do, b-but - if - if ya still don’t believe me, I - I can-”

“I believe you,” you cooed truthfully - of course you believed her; why wouldn’t you? She expressed relief, her eyes glinting even more, before she giggled softly, and lifted her left hand up to your right cheek again, her fingers shaking for a moment, before they relaxed upon your soft skin, your heart pounding at the touch, as well as how close her lips were to your’s, the way they were, blissfully now. “I just - Mol, I’m scared, what - what if - what if I-..” You appeared frustrated at yourself, stammering a little, but she was ever patient with you, tracing your own faint freckles as you tried not to get lost in her eyes again, before you finally found the right words again, somehow, as you stumbled for a brief moment again, before finally continuing, small though your voice was again, the way it was, now. “I don’t want to screw this up - I - I really can’t because-.. I-.. I can’t lose you again; I can’t hurt you, again, Mol - I just can’t, but - but I-.. I’m not-.. I’m not good at this stuff-.. I was never good at it-.. but.. fuck, why - why is this always so-?” You sighed, and she grinned over at you, finding it cute, the way you stumbled over your words, the way you did, then. “What happens if - if I do this, Mol? If - If we-?” You asked, and she raised her eyebrows, before smirking down at you again, but it didn’t take her long to falter, as soon as your eyes had found themselves meeting hers’, perfectly all over again.

“It doesn’t change anything, Y/n,” she reassured you gently, “I-.. because - because even if-.. if you decided that we shouldn’t, I’d-.. I love ya, Miss L/n, no matter what, okay? Always. You’re everything to me, and even if you do believe me, by now, I - I will never stop tellin’ ya, because I always want ya to know what ya mean to me, and it’ll be endless, the way I see ya. I think time’s already proved that to me. But that’s enough of the chatter, alright? Ya need sleep, Y/n, even I can see that; ya look positively dead already.”

“Well, good thing it doesn’t change how I look much, then, right?” You remarked, and she scoffed, before shaking her head, and leaning down to connect her lips to your forehead again, only making your heart beat even faster than it ever had before, the way it did, then.

“You look perfect; ya always do,” she cooed sweetly, and you practically shuddered with the warmth of her words against your skin, before you smiled lovingly up at her again, and carefully lifted your left hand up to draw your thumb softly over her lips again. They hardly even moved at the touch, and you shuddered again, before smiling lovingly up at her again. “I love you,” she whispered, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, lifting your head carefully up to connect your lips to hers’ again.

“I’ve always loved you, too,” you returned a little shakily, but you managed to hold it together - just about, anyway, “I’ll never stop, Molly, I - I promise, I - I could never-”

“It’s okay, Miss L/n,” she reassured you gently, before easing your head down upon the pillow again, knowing it wouldn’t be good for you to be using up as much energy as you still were, now, “just - get some sleep, for me, okay? Ya need it, else we won’t be able to sneak away from here anymore, will we?”

Your eyes glinted again, prompting your heart to stutter all the more again.

“You - You mean-.. You’d - You’d still want to-..” You managed, and Molly grinned - all the more brightly, too - over at you, again.

“Of course I do,” she reassured you, “why wouldn’t I? Now get some sleep you, and maybe - and that’s if ya feelin’ better than you are, now - we can go and have a little quickie.”

You raised your eyebrows, before you grinned over at her again, evidently elated, though you had to try and hide that it terrified you, given that you’d messed up so many times, before, but you were determined to make things right again, somehow, if only it were easier, the way it had seemed to be, all those times before, now.

XVIII

When the occasion did arise that you got at least some time together securely alone - almost, anyway - you found yourself feeling all the more terrified of messing things up, the way you had so many times before, now.

Murphy was crunching nonchalantly on the hay she pulled out of the bale Arthur had set down, earlier, when you warily approached her, the air tight and sky dark above you, as you wanted to quickly check up on her, before you departed toward the tree line to meet up with Molly, the way you’d both decided you would, not too long ago, now at least. It wasn’t the same day, however - it was the ending of a new day, as you’d ended up falling asleep for longer than you had meant to, and Molly had admitted that you looked too peaceful for her to interrupt, at all.

“Hey, girl - having a midnight snack, there?” You guessed, and Murphy whinnied, before you winced, warily glancing back toward the centre of the campsite, but nobody seemed to have noticed you, as you expressed relief, before gently patting your mare’s neck, and wrapping your arms around her again. “Good - keep yourself happy, okay? I’ve gotta go and meet Molly, but I promise I’m coming back, no matter what. I love you, Mur - you know that, right?” You cooed, and she snorted again. “Good - I’ll see you around, okay?” You concluded, but before you could make a swift departure, of course Arthur had to sniff you out, the way he did, then.

“Why the hell are you whisperin’ like that, Miss L/n? It’s - discomforting, to say the least,” he remarked, and you rolled your eyes, before turning to face him - albeit in a begrudging manner, the way you did, then, a brief moment ago, now.

“Look at you learnin’ all those big new words; whose fault is it now, huh?” You questioned, curious, and Arthur grunted, before nonchalantly scratching at his forming stubble.

“Probably Josiah’s, this time; I wouldn’t be surprised, I mean-.. he’s always tryna teach us somethin’, ain’t he?” You raised your eyebrows, and he cleared his throat, before scowling over at you, but not too boldly to scare you away, somehow, the way he sometimes did the others - Micah, purposefully, anyway, by now. “But that’s besides the point; don’t you dare try and change the subject, now,” he scolded gently, and you sighed heavily, before raising your hands up in surrender, knowing that he’d caught you, fair and square, at this point in time, now. “I know where you’re goin’, Y/n; are you sure it’s the best - well, thing, for you both to be doin’, right now, with all the heat and all on you two, the way it is now?” He questioned, and you would appear surprised, but not extremely, before shrugging, and distracting yourself with Murphy’s tepid snout again.

“I never stood a chance at avoiding you, did I?” You guessed, and he raised his eyebrows in turn, prompting you to scoff, and shake your head, but it didn’t stop the smile from managing to take its place upon your lips again, the way it did, a brief moment ago, now.

“And you never will, by the looks of things,” he added swiftly, and you nodded gravely, evidently unsurprised by such a notion as this was, quite possible, if you thought about it hard enough, the way you did - regrettably - then.

“So - what do you want, then, this time? Are you going to tell me off again, or-?” You asked, curious, and he winced, evidently worried about something as he looked around him, before returning his gaze reluctantly to your own again.

“Not this time - well, maybe a bit, but I won’t scold either you or Miss O’Shea just yet, but - goddamnit,” he added, evidently frustrated; he knew what you were going to say; what the others would say, too, if he told them, but he felt like he could trust you and Molly, just enough, especially with things like this, so he continued, and for a minute you felt yourself wanting to punch his lights out. “I’m only here to establish an alibi; I’ve gotta be out helpin’ Mary with somethin’, okay? Can you help me out, or-?” He requested, as reluctant as ever, and you just looked - well, evidently displeased; you’d told him not to bother with her again, remembering how he’d told you about her, the first time, when she’d sounded to you as though she were only interested in one thing, and one thing only: a family with class, unwillingly to accept anything else, but popularity and money.

“You’re kidding me,” you replied simply, folding your arms across your chest, and he winced, seeing you were already pissed off at such an idea, but he felt he had to do this for her, or her brother - Jamie - anyway, considering he’d always liked him, and had been respected by him for quite a long time, by now, before things had gone south, the way they did, then. “No-”

“I know what you’re thinkin’, okay? It ain’t like that; it never was, okay? I just have to help, and then I promise you, and I’ll promise her, that I ain’t gonna do anymore for her - she owes me too much, by now-”

“Damn right she does,” you agreed, “Arthur, c’mon - be serious, now-”

“I am bein’ serious, Miss L/n - when am I not? With you, anyway?” He inquired, and you didn’t even bother to think against such a statement, nodding begrudgingly as you shrugged again, before making to brush Murphy, just to distract yourself from the situation at hand, now, Molly circling your mind, and prying at the back of your head, by now.

“No argument, there,” you remarked simply, and he grinned, before nodding slightly, guessing he’d achieve such a response from you, the way he did, then, ever the optimist.

“That’s what I thought,” he mused, “look, it - it’s more for Jamie, than it is for her, okay? If that makes it sound any better to you, as it did for me.”

You would consider it, for a brief moment, before you sighed heavily again, guessing it couldn’t do much harm, if the help wasn’t directly her own to be given, even after everything that had past between them, the way it did, all those years ago, by now.

“Fine - if it’s for Jamie, and not her, I’ll do it,” you stated, though it still looked like it annoyed you, to be even giving up, the way you did, then, a brief moment ago, now, “anyway, er - what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?”

XIX

“He wants me to lie for him, I mean - as if they’d even ask, unless he’s needed for something, or whatever,” you mused, and Molly couldn’t help, but grin widely over at you, “why’re you smiling at me like that? Have - Have I got something on my face, or-?”

“No, it - it’s not that, Y/n, I - I just-.. I’ve missed this,” she admitted, her heart skipping a beat as your eyes seemed to glint alongside her’s again, upon hearing such words escape her, the way they did, blissfully again. “I’ve missed us,” she added softly, and you couldn’t help it as you lifted your right hand up to her left cheek, prompting her to forget how to breathe for a moment, as you softly traced her light freckles, wondering what you’d done to deserve someone as amazing as her, the way she found herself doing, too, way too often, sometimes, especially when she was looking into your eyes so serenely, the way she was, then. “I love ya,” she continued even sweeter, her voice all the more gentle than it was before, somehow, now, “I’ll always love ya - and, before I ask ya what I was plannin’ to - ya know what I’m gonna say, don’t ya?”

It was your turn to let the smile creep upon your lips again, as you beamed sheepishly back at her, eyes brighter than they’d ever been before, beneath the starry sky, the way they were, now.

“I might have an idea,” you admitted, and she raised her eyebrows, but of course you knew; it was more than an inkling, so you decided you should save her having to actually ask, as you continued slowly, your heart beating much too fast again as you did, the way it did, then, “but - you don’t need to ask me anymore, Mol, because-.. of course I know you love me; I only doubted before because-..” You sighed heavily, a pained expression dawning upon your face as you shook your head, not wanting to think about what had happened before, not even too long ago, by now. It had been at least a couple of days, since it had happened, but your mathematic skill was hardly present, so it wouldn’t surprise you, if you found yourself getting the boundaries of time wrong, over and over and over again, now, at this point in time. “Because I-.. I was being stupid, Mol - I know I was; I was thinking stupidly, too, but-.. it was only because I was scared; I just - I thought - I-”

“It’s okay, Miss L/n,” she reassured you, holding your body even closer to her’s again; she hated seeing you like this; like you were still stuck in those moments you occasionally found yourself having, before - panic-stricken, and barely able to breathe, somehow. She often thought she wouldn’t be surprised, if the Murfree Brood had anything to do with it, after all they’d done to you - a notion she often couldn’t bear to even consider, paired alongside the fact that she couldn’t do anything more to help you, the way she wished she could, all those times before, now.

“But it’s not-!” You cried, your voice sounding more strained than ever, and she faltered, her eyes darkening a little as her hands shook a bit more, clinging warily onto your shoulders as she begged you to stay with her; to not come any closer to losing yourself, all over again, now. Of course it made her think, too, about the near campsite, and the possibility of them catching the two of you, so close together again, in your slightly more roughed-up than usual night dress, no less; it was risky, to be sure, and she couldn’t let anything happen to you as she eased your head down, a little, prompting you to bury your face into the crook of her neck as you cried quietly again, wishing you could have done things differently, for her, the way you often vowed you would do, before, only to break your promises - dreadfully too often again. “I’m sorry,” you managed shakily, your voice barely audible as your lips brushed against her skin, “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” she interjected again, and you faltered in speech, wincing, as you begged her to forgive you for all you’d done again, but - at the same time - you felt she should shout at you; hit you, for everything you’d done to hurt her again.

“I - I can’t - Mol, please - I - I feel like I can’t breathe, I-..” Your ability to speak failed you again, and Molly eased your head back up a little, as your tearful gaze met her own again, before you shook your head subconsciously, but she couldn’t let you try and deter her anymore, as she carefully leaned forward a little to connect her lips to your own again. You would appear taken aback, at first, but you were strong enough to resist the pull, as you melted into the kiss again, wrapping your arms around her neck as you did, to try and stabilise yourself a bit more, at least. As it went on, you were dangerously close to giving into your urges again, but you couldn’t let her entire being consume you again just yet, as you hesitantly pulled out of the kiss, now carefully perched above her, half-trapping beneath you, but not enough for her to not escape, if she still wanted to do so, at any given point in time, by now.

“Alright?” She inquired, as the both of you tried to stabilise your breathing patterns again, the way you almost had, before, if it weren’t for the close perimeter, always seeming to burn the both of you alive, somehow, whenever you found yourselves close to one another, the way you did, perfectly intermingled again, the way you had been, so many times before, now, too, before things had gone south the way they had, anyway.

That was the past, however - you hastened to remind yourself; you’d only make things worse, if you admitted you were still thinking about it, the way you practically were, by now, still shaking a little above her, more vulnerable than you’d ever been before, the way you were, at this point in time, now.

“Are you drunk?” You questioned, and she would frown, before scoffing, and shaking her head again as she lifted her left hand up to delicately caress your right cheek, and you almost melted into her touch with too much ease, the way you did, then, if you didn’t manage to regain your senses, carefully lowering her hand back down, before you held it within your own, your eyes never leaving her own, again, as much as they could help to do so, the way they did, then, redder than ever, and nonetheless wet from your last crying session, not too long ago - by now, anyway.

“Why? Are you?” She inquired, curious, and you tensed up again, before shaking your head timidly down at her again.

“Not yet, anyway,” you murmured, and she frowned, but you didn’t take it back, afraid of what would happen, if all you did was lie to her, over and over again, the way you did, all those times before, now. It was too much, and you knew that to lie anymore would break you, if you ended up hurting her anymore; if you made her cry, again, worst of all. You scowled at the thought, before you finally averted your gaze again. “Molly-”

“Why are ya doin’ this, again, especially now? I - I thought we were-”

“I can’t let you make a mistake again, without you knowing that things’ll only get worse for you, if you decide what you want is me again, l-like before-.. I just can’t, okay? I could never-”

“But I’m not makin’ a mistake, Y/n - I love ya; I thought ya said you knew that, already-”

“And I do,” you insisted, and her heart stuttered at how small your voice sounded, then, her eyes darkening all the more as she faltered below you, desperate to see you smile again, no matter how long it might take her to achieve such a sight, the way it was, before - consistent, and brighter than ever, if only there weren’t so many wolves out there, where she longed to be free with you, no matter what the cost would be to do so, over and over and over again, now, the way she did, all those times before, by now. You couldn’t deny these dreams, too; you thought about them too much, now, perhaps ever since you’d first met and got to know her, you had. You were the wary kind, however; you knew what the cost might be, if you let yourself be fooled by cosy living, only to turn around be faced with the highest calibre of guns again. “I always have, Mol, I - I swear, but-.. I need you to know you have a choice, okay? You will always have a choice, I promise. I love you; I’ve always loved you, Molly O’Shea, and if you really want to stay with me, though I think it would be stupid for you to still want to, somehow, even after everything - I will fight for you; I will do everything I possibly can just to try and make you happy; keep you safe, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted, for you. You deserve everything, Mol, and sometimes I get scared that even you can’t see that; that even you don’t know how much you’re truly worth, and that’s something entirely beyond me, okay? It - It’s like you don’t see me, for - for who I am; I’m a low-life, compared to you; I - I’m just - I-”

“You’re everything - to me,” she contradicted softly, and it was hard to even register the way it felt, to hear such words escaping her lips, the way they did, then, but you felt it, nonetheless, your heart-beat stuttering all the more as you even had to try and fight back a shudder, somehow, as if regular bodily functions were even failing you, too, but you managed to push through it - just about, anyway. “Ya always have been, Miss L/n,” she cooed, “nothin’ could ever change that; I’m sure of it. Nothin’s ever gonna take me away from you - ya believe me, don’t ya?”

You hesitated, not sure what to think anymore as you cautiously stared down at her, before your gaze flicked down to her hand still in your’s, only making it harder to breathe when you remembered it being there, the warmth overwhelming, but nonetheless - comforting, in an odd way, the way it was, now, her gently squeezing your hand as you thought much too hard about it all again, before she’d brought you back to reality, the way she did, so easily then.

“Molly,” you managed again, your voice briefly cracking as you did, but she shook her head; it was her turn to try and win you over, and she wasn’t easy to challenge, less to win against, like that, but it was something you couldn’t help, but love her every aspect of being for, the way it was, now, vulnerable beneath you, but you couldn’t hurt her, so you kept your embrace well at bay from anywhere you feared she wouldn’t want it to be, right now, the way it had been, all those times before, now.

“I’ll tell ya why you’re so special to me, but to do that, I’d have to give ya a whole list of reasons why it’s you who I want, and not any of the others, okay? If ya want me to, I could even promise ya that I’ll write it for ya, but if ya don’t want me to, I’m gonna do it anyway, because I want ya to know regardless, Miss L/n. For now, I wanna tell ya this, because it’s important to me, alright?” You would appear curious; tentative, even, as you nodded slowly, your eyes narrowing a little down at her again. “You make me want things I can’t have, Miss L/n; that’s always been the case, ever since I first met ya,” she cooed gently, and your heart skipped a beat again, almost shamefully, as you tried to fight back a grin, wondering what the things she had in mind were, if she decided she wanted to share them with you, the way she’d been thinking of doing, for a little while, now, at least, “and I know that - without a doubt in my mind - it will always be the same way, no matter where we are, then; where the future decides to take us, somewhere in the end.”

“I love you,” you repeated again, your voice even smaller; barely there, and she revelled in how warm it made her feel, the way it did, then, the warmth wrapping around her, even before you kissed her, as sweetly as you did, then. “But - don’t try and get yourself killed, because of me; you could have died, Mol, when - when you pushed me out of the way, like that - it was-..” You winced, recalling the moment much too vividly, and she shook her head slowly, before caressing your cheek within her free hand again.

“I would do anythin’ for ya, Y/n, so that’s outta my control by now, I’m afraid,” she mused, and you sighed heavily, before you nodded gravely, and allowed your gaze to meet her own again, steady as it was, now, “surely you wouldn’t promise me, either, that ya wouldn’t do the same, or-?”

You winced, even gritting your teeth a little; she’d caught you, like a fish on a line. She grinned, though it did worry her, thinking about all you’d ever promised her, before; all you’d ever done before - it didn’t make her hopeful that you would avoid yourself getting killed for her, the way she knew she would you.

“Exactly,” she remarked, and you sighed, before shaking your head, and hastily managing to continue again.

“Yeah, but - I’m determined at least to try and stay alive for you, no matter what, okay? In any situation, I promise,” you contradicted softly, and she felt her cheeks warming up a bit again - something she still wasn’t used to, though she couldn’t imagine how, at this point in time, by now.

“Well, in that case - I’ll do my best to do the same for the you, if - if you’ll let me?” She inquired, and you hesitated again, eyes never leaving her own, as you knew what she was asking you, now. Behind her words, you could hear the undercurrent of what she truly wanted to know - if you’ll accept her, or if you’ll let her go again.

“You know - I’m still not used to this,” you admitted timidly, and her gaze locked onto your own keenly as she connected her forehead to yours’ again, her breath pattern gradually becoming slightly uneven again, the way yours’ was too, now, the way it had, a brief moment ago, by now, at least. “But - I might never get another chance to say this, after today, so-.. Molly-.. I - I’ve always - fuck, I-”

“Miss L/n; Miss O’Shea,” Arthur’s voice sounded out again, and you tensed up again, glancing up at him perched upon his horse again, as he raised his eyebrows, deciding not to comment on how close the both you were; the position you were still currently in, the way that you were, now. It was none of his business, and he intended solidly to keep it that way, the way did, then, bowing his head respectfully as he gave Guinevere a pat, before easing her into a trot again.

You sighed, expressing relief, as you held her even closer to you, as if to try and protect her, somehow

“That was-”

“It doesn’t scare me,” she reassured you softly, “it’ll never scare me, Y/n - I promise; you’re all that matters to me, that’s all I know, now.”

“You still have a choice,” you reminded her slowly, and she giggled softly in response to your comment, as if she still couldn’t believe you were trying to deter her again, the way you were, now, “that’s - that’s what I wanted to tell you, a-aside from the fact that - that I - y’know-..”

“You’re never gonna scare me away, you do know that, don’t ya?” She stated simply, a soft smirk playing on her lips, and you raised your eyebrows, before nodding gravely again.

“Well, because you seem so - sure,” you continued, a little more brightly, now, “then I guess we could sneak around again, but I have one more request.”

“Anythin’; I - I would do anythin’ for ya, Y/n,” she expressed, and you shuddered again, almost managing to stop yourself, before you smiled lovingly down at her, your heart beating wildly again.

“When we meet up again, we meet at Dewberry,” you suggested, and she didn’t even hesitate, nodding her head, before she replied swiftly with the word ‘done’, as she kissed you even sweeter again, before you giggled against her lips, and carefully picked her up off of the ground, the way you had all those times before, now, seemingly over, and over again.

~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed it; I seek to entertain my lovely readers as much as possible! I apologise as well that it’s quite a long one; I didn’t intend to make it as long as I did, but rest assured I will attempt to do better at keeping more control on the word count in the future!

I intend to make a start as well soon on my next idea! This one will be quite daunting as well as exciting given that I’ve been thinking about writing for her for a while, but hadn’t brought myself to do it, until planning for such an idea had started, a few days ago, by now! I won’t reveal what I have in mind, yet, as I want it to be a surprise, but until then, I hope you all have a lovely rest of the day/night, and I look forward to seeing you again, soon! And, as usual - for now - I have been:

As always,

Your ever faithful, H.H. ❤️

[josado]

The pleasure is to play

Chapter 1

- A Joseph Joestar x OC fanfic -

Word count: 3.3k

Tags: yumeship, female OC, gambling, mostly just Speedwagon for this chapter

Speedwagon sighed, a gentle smile on his face as he shook his head lightly. "Fine.. I suppose I could indulge you in a friendly game", he said, slowly walking towards the other room with the help of his cane. "But only if there are truly no stakes. I'm mostly doing this just to meet your associate, anyway - I'm not very good at poker myself".

The other man chuckled, patting Speedwagon on his back. "Mate, you're not supposed to tell people that.. You're giving yourself away and we haven't even started yet".

"Ah... I fear that the second we start playing you'll realize I lack the so-called poker face, so it won't make much of a difference. But...", he stopped at the door to the meeting room, his hand resting on the doorknob. He looked over to the other man, a serious look on his face. "But I really do hope you are on the correct trail. The Speedwagon Foundation has caught whiff of similar phenomena happening around the world... If you think this is one of such cases, well... It could change everything for us."

The other man nodded. He was slightly younger than him, his hair only beginning to go gray on the sides. He had a serious look on his face just like Speedwagon, but his was quite nervous as well - nervous for both his personal reputation and for all the future business he planned on doing with the foundation's founder. This meeting was his idea after all, so he really needed it to go well and show he's reliable. He was certain this was a textbook case which would fit perfectly in Speedwagon's new research. Meeting over a poker game felt less than appropriate for making new business connections and trying to understand and better the world.. But it would all make sense soon enough. "She might not accept right away.. But I believe the lady will not need too much convincing. If nothing else, then she will accept purely out of boredom. She is...", he nodded, letting Speedwagon know it was alright to enter, "...a bit... addicted to the feeling of uncertainty... one would not be wrong to call it that."

Speedwagon opened the door, taking a few steps inside. His brows furrowed a bit, not expecting the new associate to be this young. No alarms went off in his head though, and although it wasn't what it once was, he still had great faith in his ability to sniff out someone's character. His nose was currently telling him that the worst thing that could happen here would be wasting his time. A young lady in her 20s sat at the table, smiling a little awkwardly. She had long dark ashy blonde hair with a single platinum streak in her fringe. She wore minimal makeup, but her eyelashes were definitely covered in mascara, clumping together intentionally to bring even more attention to her doll-like hazel eyes. Speedwagon slowly walked closer and extended his hand out to her. "My name is Robert E. O. Speedwagon, founder of The Speedwagon Foundation. My associate has, surprisingly, not told me a lot about you at all."

"A girl has to keep some secrets, doesn't she?", she said playfully as a small chuckle escaped her lips. She shook his hand, her grip on the handshake unusually confident for a woman her age. Speedwagon found this promising, as it implied she had something to be confident about. Perhaps the intel would prove to be correct. "Adora Dodie. A pleasure to meet you".

"Quite a grip you've got there, Adora", Speedwagon said, raising both eyebrows and looking right into her eyes. His amber ones studied hers, his nose working overtime. He finally let go of the handshake and sat down at the table, right across from her. "And quite a beautiful fake name as well".

Slight shock appeared on the girl's face as she didn't expect him to figure it out right away. The associate also sat down at a seat between the two, looking really anxious. The only thing that was keeping him sane right now was the fact that Speedwagon himself didn't appear any more nervous than usual. The associate had only recently met her (and under this name), but never once questioned it. She just raised one eyebrow, cocking her head to the side, now amused by his keen perception, her facial expression not even trying to deny the accusation. "Oh?"

"He mentioned you were Slavic, and your fashion sense is certainly not typical American..", Speedwagon started explaining, gesturing to the girl's outfit. It was rather chilly outside, less so inside, yet she still wore her short leopard fur coat - although, only around her shoulders, her black sweater peeking through from underneath. She also wore an insanely short skirt, which immediately made him think that she must be used to colder weather than America has to offer, as she wasn't shivering or seeming like she minded it at all. Her legs were fully covered in sheer black nylon tights, which told him she had no patriotism for this country considering the nylon shortage the war caused to help the troops. The black leg warmers scrunched at the very bottom of her legs certainly weren't doing a great job at keeping her warm or at hiding the expensive tights. They were merely a fashion accessory. "So I would assume you came here with the rest of the refugees at the start of the war, not that you've lived here for a good portion of your life.. The name certainly doesn't sound Slavic either, so perhaps it's an alias?" He stared at her for a few more moments, studying her before speaking again. Her smell was balsamic, an odd mixture of sour cherries and bitter almonds. It was sweet but melancholy, like a strange sadness hiding behind the sourness of the cherries. "But the lie wasn't malicious, was it, Adora?"

Adora, or whatever her real name was, nodded softly, as she started to shuffle the cards in front of her. "I'm a professional gambler, sir. And as you can imagine, the job isn't exactly ideal for making friends and giving them my actual name.."

Speedwagon looked at their shared associate, piecing together how he even met this lady. The guy definitely had gambling as a vice, it was no tightly kept secret, but Speedwagon still didn't expect to see him testing his luck against professionals. That being said, what even was a professional gambler, anyway? Surely, it must have just meant bigger amounts being wagered, as it was a purely luck-based activity after all. He now carefully watched her shuffle the cards, trying to catch a glimpse of any sleights of hand. He had seen Joseph cheat at cards enough times that he felt positive he could catch any funny movements if they occurred. "So how do you become a professional at something that requires no skill?"

"By simply never losing", she said, a slight smirk on her face.

"I can vouch for her being a professional", the associate added, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like it - it's like a superpower!" He also watched her shuffle the cards, but more in awe, rather than trying to catch her cheating. He knew there was no trickery involved, just pure luck. He knew that the girl enjoyed the sense of uncertainty that gambling brought, the stress, the adrenaline rush... Even the feeling that you could lose everything in an instant, the outcome being fully out of one's control. She loved this feeling, and he knew she wouldn't cheat now, purely to be able to experience it just a little. "But, dear, that's not entirely correct, though, now is it? You lose a great deal, actually".

Adora dealt the cards to each of them, her hands clearly experienced in holding a deck. "I suppose, but that's not what you brought Mr. Speedwagon here to see, was it? You want him to see me winning, no?"

"Correct", the man confirmed, turning fully to Speedwagon to explain. "No matter how badly she loses, she never ends a game on a loss."

"Well... Being lucky is hardly a good example of what I was hoping to find here..", Speedwagon said, feeling a bit like the guy wasn't fully grasping his research topic. "When I said supernatural powers, I didn't mean something as vague as this..." He sighed and rested his face against his palm, his elbow planted firmly on the table, and used his other hand to look at the cards he was just dealt. They weren't that bad, honestly. An 8 of hearts and a 10 of hearts - depending on what got pulled next, this could be an easy victory.

"Trust me, this is not normal luck", the man defended his stance. "At first, it seemed like a random string of wins and losses to me, but then I started watching her more carefully. It seemed like she had some wins that were pleasant surprises, which makes sense, but then some brought absolutely no emotion to her face. Just a good poker face, most people would think. But then why would she have such a visible reaction in other situations, right?"

"I never thought you to be such a devoted fan", Adora teased the older man, looking at her own cards. Upon seeing them she gave a little downturned smile - neither too pleased or displeased with her cards.

"Honestly, I just assumed you were a huge cheater and I kept following your games hoping you'd finally get caught. Though, if I may speak freely, Miss Dodie... I'd still argue you are one. A much worse one than I originally thought, even." Both of them shared a chuckle, much to Speedwagon's confusion. The man turned to him again, continuing his story. "You could see it on her face - plain as day. She was cheating. She wasn't surprised at some wins, because she knew they were going to happen."

"Did you ever get caught?", Speedwagon asked her directly, carefully watching her hands as she shuffled the deck.

“I would have to actually cheat first, in order to get caught”, she said, shooting the associate a small playful smirk. “In fact, Mr. Speedwagon, if it eases your nerves, you may shuffle the cards yourself”. Adora slid the deck across the table, leaving them right in front of him. Speedwagon took the cards and started shuffling them himself, though with much less ease than she did.

“She never got caught. Not once. And they did everything they could to try and catch her in the act.”, the associate said, shaking his head. “I approached her at the bar recently and told her I thought she was born under a lucky star. After a few drinks, she confessed that she was always this lucky, even as a kid. She even said it makes life boring…”

“..To always feel in control..”, she finished his sentence, sighing. “I won’t pretend like it’s a bad thing, obviously, but it’s certainly got its bad side as well."

“So she’s either born with a gift.. Or she’s the best cheater in the world”. The associate looked at his own cards, having a pair of 9s. He felt good about his hand, but he knew there was no point to it, as he knew Adora would still find a way to luck out and win. Speedwagon dealt the cards for the game, revealing them all on the table. A 5 of spades.. A 2 of hearts… Queen of spades… A 4 of spades... And the 6 of clubs. Both men thought the same thing for a brief moment - I could at least easily have the high card. They both revealed their cards, looking to her to see if she would win or not.

Adora showed hers as well, a 3 of hearts and a 4 of clubs. “Looks like a Straight.. Two, three, four, five, six… Yep. And a pair of 4s as well”, she said, giving her cards back to Speedwagon to shuffle again, a cocky smirk on her face.

As he started dealing the cards for the second round, he wasn’t exactly convinced yet. It would take a lot more than that to prove this was some sort of supernatural power rather than just plain old luck. But he wasn’t about to start complaining either, as there were certainly much less entertaining ways to conduct research. “Help me understand though.. So why would you come to me willingly? Isn’t this basically an admission to cheating of sorts?”, he asked her, raising both of his bushy eyebrows and dealing the cards to each of them.

Adora chuckled. “Hardly. I’d argue being lucky is a requirement for gambling.. Otherwise you are just giving your money away for no reason.” As she received her cards she didn't even take a quick look at them. Both men looked at theirs, both trying to maintain some sort of poker face. “Plus.. The way it was described..” She looked directly into Speedwagon’s amber eyes, as if trying to speak to him without using words. She seemed to have really resonated with the overall topic of the research, which was the only reason she even agreed to meet with him. "I feel like... This luck has been haunting me my whole life. I don't want it gone, but I would like a better understanding of what's going on and why it is here. Why it acts the way it does. If that makes sense". She emphasized certain words as she spoke to him, as if alluding to something. It was a test of her own and the real game she and Speedwagon were playing now - figuring out if they are talking about the same thing without giving anything away before any formal deal is made. She watched Speedwagon as he revealed the cards on the table. "So they're all clubs and they're just a Queen shy of it being a Royal Flush... Perhaps the queen of clubs in my cards would convince you a bit more about my... situation."

"But...", Speedwagon started, looking at her confused. He took a few moments to look around the table and under it, just in case, before continuing. "You haven't even looked at your cards yet. How could you possibly know you have the missing card?"

She revealed her cards to them by extending her arm so that they could clearly see the queen of clubs staring back at them. And yet she still hasn't looked at the cards herself. The associate sighed, shaking his head and turning to Speedwagon. "See? And she even does this often, as if being smug about it helps her case with the cheating allegations..."

"But, how?!"

Adora shrugged, finally taking a look at her own cards, before giving them back for the next round. "Just requires more luck than a Straight does, I suppose".

Speedwagon looked at her, squinting his eyes and studying her features one last time. She had a small mole under her right eye and another one above her left eyebrow, but the asymmetry was surprisingly pleasing to look at. It drew even more attention to her eyes, which she clearly treated as her best facial feature. Her eyebrows were very straight, her cheeks pink and her lipstick intentionally smeared across her lip lines in a shade that wasn't very bold, looking as if she just finished eating strawberries messily. Everything on her face was carefully set up to point in the direction of her looking gentle and almost angelic, and yet here she was in all her actual glory. A smug gambling addict and an obvious cheater. Still, he could see past the surface and smell out what was going on. He didn't know how she was doing it, and she would clearly never openly admit to it either, but he knew this was her confessing and seeking help. Clearly she was doing something. He thought for a moment as he shuffled the cards. He then picked up one random card and set it face-down at the table. "Try to guess which card this is, Miss Dodie."

"It's a four", she said, her voice monotone and unimpressed. Clearly he wasn't the first person to attempt this approach.

"A four of what?"

"I'll have to guess... A four of hearts".

Speedwagon nodded, revealing the card to indeed be a four or hearts. He thought for another moment, scratching his face as he did. It was definitely starting to look like more than dumb luck. "Hmm... Now I'm thinking of a number between one and one hundr-"

"Sixty seven."

He gulped. It actually was exactly 67. The associate nodded enthusiastically as he watched her guess everything right, hoping this will seal the deal. "It's insane, I'm telling you. It's not even just gambling, sometimes I fear she can read minds".

The girl chuckled at this, lowkey enjoying both the praise from her associate and the shocked look that Speedwagon was sending her way. "Oh, I wish I could read minds, but I assure you I unfortunately can not. If I could then I wouldn't even have to ask you this... But what is it exactly that you are even offering to me?"

Speedwagon thought about it for a moment before deciding that he would like to pursue this phenomena further. It seemed promising. "Well, is there more information that you have that you have not disclosed to me yet?"

"I will only say that yes, I have a clear understanding of the principle of how this luck works, just not... Why me, of all people?"

"And you would share this information with the Speedwagon foundation, correct?"

"Only if we are officially partners, but yes, I suppose."

He nodded, leaving the cards on the table and slowly getting up from his seat with the help of his cane. He extended his arm to her, finally officially making her a business offer. "I can offer you to stay at my house and have all your expences paid for the entire duration of the research. In return I would like to run some tests, hear your thoughts on the whole phenomena, get to know your personality, lineage, history…”

Adora nodded as she listened to his proposal. Certainly, having all your expences be paid for was an enticing offer, one which she would have a hard time justifying to herself if she were to decline it. She also simply wanted to know more about her own situation. The luck came at a price, one which she wanted to truly understand and perhaps even keep under control better. She extended her own arm to him as well, shaking his hand firmly. Speedwagon let go of her hand and started walking away, subtly gesturing to his associate to follow him so that they could discuss the oil business somewhere more private. He turned to her one last time, giving her a reassuring look. "Come to my house tomorrow and we'll get you settled in and start with the basics - getting to know each other." He then pointed to the associate. "He'll make sure you are given the proper address as well as take care of any transportation needs to my property for you or your luggage. Alright?"

Both Adora and the associate nodded. "Understood", she said, still thinking about this whole thing in her head. It was a little insane, perhaps even very risky on her end, but she was certain that she would have realised by now if this meeting was a stroke of bad luck rather than just an interesting new experience. And she definitely wouldn't mind shaking up the monotone routine she built up lately that consisted of nothing but her hotel room and various casinos. Perhaps it was the perfect time to get to know herself and her history better. "I will be there after lunch, then."

[skullndaisy]

✨Spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse (this is a bit of a ramble)✨

What's nuts about the concept of "canon events" is that Miguel is persistent with the idea that these events are meant to happen no matter what.

If that's the case, why would Miles' interference affect what is meant to happen?

A canon event disturbance should not exist if something that is meant to happen can be altered. That's a massive contradiction. Trying to hold Miles back from something that is inevitable feels pretty useless, though I understand Miguel's fear and his reasoning behind prohibiting Miles from even trying to rescue his father.

But being so strict about a concept so finicky (that might not even apply to every Spider-man, considering Spider-Gwen's existence & Miguel not having typical Spider-man origins) also feels kinda,,, idk,,, would impulsive and misguided be the right words to use here?

I think Miguel's judgment might be clouded in hopes of finding a reason why such tragedies exist, it might be comforting to a Spider-Person who is suffering from loss to finally have something to blame for all the pain they endure. Though in Miguel's case, since he believes it was his fault entirely for why his daughter's universe collapsed, it only makes him feel worse.

Maybe I'm misunderstanding the concept of a canon event, idk.

We never see what actually caused the collapse of Gabriela's universe, which leads me to believe Miguel isn't even entirely sure what caused it's collapse, either. He just thinks it's his fault because, technically, he wasn't meant to be there.

I don't want to think he's hiding something, Miguel isn't inherently a bad person, he feels misguided more than anything... Besides I don't think he'd have a reason to lie or deceive the entire Spider Society, that's just not in his character. He feels genuine terror and is haunted by it, therefore will do anything to prevent a repeat of the trauma he'd inflicted once before.

That being said, projecting all of that pain onto Miles is incredibly irrational, because his theory of canon is contradictory and his behavior merely proves it. The dude is grasping at straws. Miles isn't even the root cause of canon, sure his existence was caused by an anomaly spider, but nothing in those chain of events were directly caused by him. Miles didn't build the first Collider, and Miles didn't ask to be bit by that spider.

It's just a tad curious, I dunno. THIS IS JUST A THEORY. A GAME THEORY.

Correct me if I'm wrong, I kinda wanna have discourse on this since I am pretty much on Team Miles for this movie.

[that-ari-blogger]

This Is About Relationships (Hell's Greatest Dad)

I feel like we are seeing more and more stories that draw on horror elements as of recent times, with mixed success.

Critical Role, for example, has put some heavy emphasis on body and cosmic horror in their most recent campaigns, and I think that has worked really well. They are telling a story about feeling powerful in the face of adversity, and so having villains who are either unknowable or far too knowable really works for that idea.

On the other hand, the horror elements of Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness actively took me out of the story, because they didn’t fit with the rest of the franchise at all, and I found that rather jarring.

Then there is Hazbin Hotel, which isn’t scary, but it definitely draws on some of the tools of writing horror. Although it doesn't do that in the way you might expect. Specifically, it uses the character of Lucifer to both embody and subvert the very nature of Gothic horror itself.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (Hazbin Hotel, Ratatouille, Paradise Lost, Frankenstein)

I have made my stance on genre extremely clear in the past. I think it exists, but I think it is bollocks, and Hazbin Hotel kind of proves my point.

Because, yes, you can boil Horror down into however many constituent parts as you would like in order to organise a bookstore, but however you spin it, Hazbin Hotel fits that, with the exception that it isn’t scary.

Then again, being scary is entirely subjective. For example, I am completely fine with ghosts and ghouls, so the only thing that gets me about games such as Phasmophobia are the jump scares, and Jump Scares aren't horror. By the same score, I am incredibly squeamish, so Hazbin Hotel itself was more difficult for me than a few of my friends.

Which leads me to gothic horror, which has a distinct aesthetic to it that isn’t actually essential at all.

The name actually comes from its aesthetic. Gothic fiction got started in the 1700s when Gothic architecture was popular but gained traction in the early 1800s when authors such as Edgar Alen Poe and Jane Austin got involved. The latter of whom wrote Northanger Abbey in 1818 to parody the overdramatization of the genre in a book that I personally despise.

Austin’s book comes across to me as incredibly insincere. I have an infinite respect for Austin’s work, but there is a deep sense of contempt in Northanger Abbey that drives me up the wall.

I want to be clear here, this is not me saying the book is bad. It is incredibly well written. I just hate it with every fibre of my being.

To me, Northanger Abbey missed the point of the gothic genre. Gothic isn't about the emotion, it's about the humanity. The fallibility, the force of will, the instability and resilience that come and go like the wind.

Gothic horror turns that into fear, specifically the fear of morality. It’s the Ratatouille genre. Any angel can sin, any demon can rise. Or in other words:

“Anyone can cook.”

Gothic horror is the fear of inconsistency. That someone you trust can betray you, or spiral into awful deeds, or that someone you despise might be right. It’s the fear of redemption, and conversely, the terror of good motives leading to bad ends.

Other subsets of horror draw on the fear of the unknown, or of not knowing. Gothic fiction is steeped in the terror of what you know being wrong.

Case and point, Frankenstein is both the archetypal science fiction book, and a phenomenal Gothic story. The terror is derived from the fact that it’s titular character can be so great and yet such an absolute monster, as well as the horror of creating a conscience.

The creature is intelligent, and its intrinsic morality is up for debate the entire time. Frankenstein calls it his "Adam", for Pete's sake. It kills multiple people, but as a reader you are unsettled by how much you agree with its motives.

Gothic horror is the fear of absence. There is no good or evil here, just people.

There’s a reason I brought up Ratatouille. The conflict of the series is derived from Skinner’s visceral fear that someone he despises as much as Linguine can actually be competent, combined with a field rat rising from the gutter to run a restaurant. “Anyone can cook” is a threat in this movie, but it gets better explained by Ego in a way that I really like.

“In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau’s famous motto: ‘Anyone can cook.’ But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.”

According to one of the greatest fanfics ever written, Paradise Lost, Lucifer rebelled against G-d’s vision and fell, which can be taken any number of ways. It’s written so that you sympathise with the main character, who is, may I remind you, the literal devil.

Worth noting, Frankenstein's monster reads Paradise Lost. I wonder if there is any significance to that.

Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel is nominally the same character as his biblical counterpart, except that he is blissfully unaware of any of the themes surrounding him. Kinda.

He has grasped the fact that anyone can fall, but the reverse of that hasn’t quite registered to him yet.

Case and point, he doesn’t understand people at all. He has sought escapism through “stuff”. By which I mean the ducks, but I also mean his song, Hell’s Greatest Dad.

Part of the gothic theming in Hazbin Hotel is that people aren’t static, and that relationships are more important than anything else. Angel Dust and Pentious don’t become better people through trust falls, the find it through love and companionship, both platonic and more than platonic.

To demonstrate this, we contrast Lucifer with Alastor, who once again doesn’t sing his own song but steals it off someone else. Alastor’s relationship with Charlie is so obviously sinister, and that will be better explained two episodes down the line, but at least he has a relationship with her.

The agony of this is that Jeremy Jordan is a phenomenal voice actor, who, along with Lucifer’s stellar writing, endears the character to you from his first scene.

Alastor is a villain; Lucifer is an absent father. Who do you side with here? That’s gothic fiction.

“Sailors fighting in the dance hall, Oh man, look at those cavemen go. It’s the freakiest show. Take a look at the lawman Beating up the wrong guy Oh man, wonder if he’ll ever know He's in the best selling show. Is there life on Mars?”

This is the chorus of a David Bowie song called Life On Mars. It centres around someone seeking escape through television and storytelling. It points out the futility of this, but the fact that it works. It’s a stable dynamic that doesn’t go anywhere.

Remind you of anything?

“Who needs a busboy, now that you've got the chef? Michelin tasting menu, free à la carte I'll rig the game for you because I'm the ref Champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just to start!”

Lucifer is offering Charlie anything she could dream of. Any thing. But Charlie doesn’t need an object. She needs a father, and she needs her relationship with Lucifer.

Enter Alastor, who, up to this point, has been generally benevolent to Charlie. He’s basically the embodiment of that old Tumblr textpost that described someone as “chaotic gay. I haven’t done anything evil yet, but my general aesthetic and demeanour tell you that I will, any day now.”

Side note, I know this post exists. I have seen it, I have screenshots of it. But Tumblr’s search function is so legendarily awful that I cannot locate it. Tumblr’s search function has beaten the FBI before, and I don’t have that much patience.

In any case, Alastor offers up his own curriculum vitae in the form of this:

“Who’s been here since day one? Who’s been faithful as a nun? Makes you chuckle with an old-timey pun? Your executive producer.”

He’s pitching himself via his relationship with Charlie. But what I wanted to point out specifically was how the two characters relate to the beat of the song.

This song is inspired by Friend Like Me. I know it's subtle, but I'm onto something, and I can pick out the clues. If you look closely at his moustache in this shot...

Lucifer is clicked to the rhythm, or rather, his backing music is. The band hits ever downbeat as one, looping back to play the same thing every few bars. It is incredibly stable. The one thing that isn’t, is Lucifer.

The man misses every single beat by a fraction of a second. Not much, but when you contrast him with the entirely of the rest of the song, you notice that tiny imperfection, especially when Alastor doesn’t share it.

Alastor starts singing by matching the beat perfectly with his opening sounds, then going free within the restraints. Later, when he co-opts the song, the band begins playing along with him and matching his melody.

The Radio Demon understands people incredibly well, and he works on relationships. As such, his music has a much more symbiotic relationship between each of the parts. Lucifer’s feels like a creation, Alastor’s feels like it was created, if that makes sense. There’s a human element to Alastor’s take on this song.

Which brings me back to the gothic stuff going on here, and the relationship between Lucifer and Alastor. Alastor is, of course, a manipulator. He takes issue with Lucifer because he wants Charlie isolated. But Lucifer has no reason to get upset by Alastor, right?

Alastor shakes up Lucifer’s entire worldview, to the point where I find some of the double dad dynamic between them rather compelling. Most of it.

Alastor is risk incarnate; he stands for the idea that anyone can do anything. A radio presenter can be a cannibal, and have parenting instincts take over with Nifty and at times Charlie. But he is unsafe. Because he is such an unknown, he is untrustworthy. You don’t know where you stand.

Lucifer, meanwhile, is terrified of this fact. He likes the safety of knowing where he stands, he can protect himself there, but he can also protect others. In my eyes, that’s why he was so absent with Charlie. He found something he could understand and kept it because he didn’t want to shake up the rhythm. But that was futile, and he realises this over the course of this episode.

But you might say “wait, Alastor is ace, he can’t be with Lucifer,” and my answer is twofold. First up, I am ace too, that doesn’t prohibit relationships. I’m not even talking about romantic stuff here, Alastor is the poster boy for being aromantic, but more importantly, parenting isn’t just about the other parent.

The two can both be dads, joined by their mutual care for their daughter, rather than affection for each other. I find that compelling. Charlie needs both the security and the sign that everything is possible. She needs someone to lift her up, but she also needs someone to catch her when she falls, and Lucifer and Alastor both play different roles in that dynamic.

Any angel can sin, any demon can rise. Anyone can be a dad, anyone can cook.

Final Thoughts

Jeremy Jordan is a global treasure and even if this series doesn’t stick the landing with its next season (we will see), Lucifer will be amazing.

Do I have a crush on this man? No. No, I do not. Why do you ask?

In all seriousness, I think episode five should have been two episodes. One for this song, and one for the next. Lucifer would join the Hotel’s crew for a few days, befriending Pentious and co., being utterly disrespected by Husk, and being eased into the fact that morality isn’t binary.

I don’t even mean this from just the pacing perspective, I think the series would have so much more thematic weight if it devoted more time to the literal devil learning the thesis of the series and becoming on board with redemption. I think that would be cool.

I'm also just now realising that this is a Gothic Horror musical, so of course Alex Brightman got cast in it.

In any case, next week is More Than Anything, which is yet another case study in why Jeremy Jordan is amazing. Stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[nyerusnova]

Going to toss in my two cents here real quick but I firmly believe: Batman cannot kill, and there cannot be exceptions to that rule, or else the entire ethos falls apart.

Like trust me, Bruce Wayne has personally contemplated killing people multiple times, and has come very close to it before. It is not that he doesn't ever want to kill, but he knows that the Batman cannot kill. Because if he does, then the hope of Gotham is lost, nevermind elsewhere at large. People will have no reason to believe in their heroes, when their heroes decide to play judge, jury, and executioner. Even if we (and diegetically, many characters) know that certain criminals/villains will never change their ways and only want to cause more harm, Batman especially cannot go that far.

Other heroes (most notably Wonder Woman) do fight for more "pragmatic" reasons, and thus will take a life when they deem necessary. But Batman is not one of them. What he's fighting for is not just harm reduction, it's to show people that goodness and justice can prevail. And you might not agree with that ideology, but that's still something important to exemplify -- both in-universe and out.

If he kills, then even ordinary people will have no reason to trust him. Batman goes from a symbol of hope to a yet another symbol of fear for the people of Gotham.

And no, the Joker of all people is not an exception -- he is in fact a major point/reason for the rule. Could maybe other people kill the Joker? Yeah, sure. Narratively boring in most cases, but it would take out the trash. However, of anyone in that universe, it absolutely cannot be Batman. Because that is exactly what the Joker wants: chaos! That's why him being taken out by other people isn't as interesting, because to him his own death is largely meaningless. What the Joker wants is to prove that anyone can be pushed to that edge, including someone as righteous as Batman. If Batman kills him, then the Joker has successfully destroyed the hope of Gotham. He wins. And that's not something Batman can ever take back or recover -- it's game over.

As for Jason: keep in mind that Jason has had chances to kill the Joker himself. But he hasn't, because he wants Bruce -- Batman -- to do it. It presents an interesting quandary, because with this, Jason isn't thinking about the big philosophical picture that Bruce is. (If you want a generous take on him, he is more "pragmatic" about harm reduction. Killing the Joker would save lives, and he wants Bruce to see that. A more realistic take is that it is selfish desire for vengeance as the main driving factor. I won't get into his characterization it now because it's a mess that deserves 10 posts on its own.) At the end of the day, what he really wants for his father to choose him, over his own ideals. And he's not even entirely wrong in wanting that. Fundamentally, that's what makes the conflict between them so interesting. Bruce cannot put his children or loved ones first; he is a hero first, and everything else second. That's the tragedy in being a hero. That bears it's own meta, imo.

In short, Batman's no-kill rule has persisted in comics for decades for a good reason.

I'm actually curious now to find out what the common consensus is so

[missmentelle]

Why Smart People Believe Stupid Things

If you’ve been paying attention for the last couple of years, you might have noticed that the world has a bit of a misinformation problem. 

The problem isn’t just with the recent election conspiracies, either. The last couple of years has brought us the rise (and occasionally fall) of misinformation-based movements like:

Sandy Hook conspiracies

Gamergate

Pizzagate

The MRA/incel/MGTOW movements

anti-vaxxers

flat-earthers

the birther movement

the Illuminati 

climate change denial

Spygate

Holocaust denial 

COVID-19 denial 

5G panic 

QAnon 

But why do people believe this stuff?

It would be easy - too easy - to say that people fall for this stuff because they’re stupid. We all want to believe that smart people like us are immune from being taken in by deranged conspiracies. But it’s just not that simple. People from all walks of life are going down these rabbit holes - people with degrees and professional careers and rich lives have fallen for these theories, leaving their loved ones baffled. Decades-long relationships have splintered this year, as the number of people flocking to these conspiracies out of nowhere reaches a fever pitch. 

So why do smart people start believing some incredibly stupid things? It’s because:

Our brains are built to identify patterns. 

Our brains fucking love puzzles and patterns. This is a well-known phenomenon called apophenia, and at one point, it was probably helpful for our survival - the prehistoric human who noticed patterns in things like animal migration, plant life cycles and the movement of the stars was probably a lot more likely to survive than the human who couldn’t figure out how to use natural clues to navigate or find food. 

The problem, though, is that we can’t really turn this off. Even when we’re presented with completely random data, we’ll see patterns. We see patterns in everything, even when there’s no pattern there. This is why people see Jesus in a burnt piece of toast or get superstitious about hockey playoffs or insist on always playing at a certain slot machine - our brains look for patterns in the constant barrage of random information in our daily lives, and insist that those patterns are really there, even when they’re completely imagined. 

A lot of conspiracy theories have their roots in people making connections between things that aren’t really connected. The belief that “vaccines cause autism” was bolstered by the fact that the first recognizable symptoms of autism happen to appear at roughly the same time that children receive one of their rounds of childhood immunizations - the two things are completely unconnected, but our brains have a hard time letting go of the pattern they see there. Likewise, many people were quick to latch on to the fact that early maps of COVID infections were extremely similar to maps of 5G coverage -  the fact that there’s a reasonable explanation for this (major cities are more likely to have both high COVID cases AND 5G networks) doesn’t change the fact that our brains just really, really want to see a connection there. 

Our brains love proportionality. 

Specifically, our brains like effects to be directly proportional to their causes - in other words, we like it when big events have big causes, and small causes only lead to small events. It’s uncomfortable for us when the reverse is true. And so anytime we feel like a “big” event (celebrity death, global pandemic, your precious child is diagnosed with autism) has a small or unsatisfying cause (car accident, pandemics just sort of happen every few decades, people just get autism sometimes), we sometimes feel the need to start looking around for the bigger, more sinister, “true” cause of that event. 

Consider, for instance, the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times by a Turkish member of a known Italian paramilitary secret society who’d recently escaped from prison - on the surface, it seems like the sort of thing conspiracy theorists salivate over, seeing how it was an actual multinational conspiracy. But they never had much interest in the assassination attempt. Why? Because the Pope didn’t die. He recovered from his injuries and went right back to Pope-ing. The event didn’t have a serious outcome, and so people are content with the idea that one extremist carried it out. The death of Princess Diana, however, has been fertile ground for conspiracy theories; even though a woman dying in a car accident is less weird than a man being shot four times by a paid political assassin, her death has attracted more conspiracy theories because it had a bigger outcome. A princess dying in a car accident doesn’t feel big enough. It’s unsatisfying. We want such a monumentous moment in history to have a bigger, more interesting cause. 

These theories prey on pre-existing fear and anger. 

Are you a terrified new parent who wants the best for their child and feels anxious about having them injected with a substance you don’t totally understand? Congrats, you’re a prime target for the anti-vaccine movement. Are you a young white male who doesn’t like seeing more and more games aimed at women and minorities, and is worried that “your” gaming culture is being stolen from you? You might have been very interested in something called Gamergate. Are you a right-wing white person who worries that “your” country and way of life is being stolen by immigrants, non-Christians and coastal liberals? You’re going to love the “all left-wingers are Satantic pedo baby-eaters” messaging of QAnon. 

Misinformation and conspiracy theories are often aimed strategically at the anxieties and fears that people are already experiencing. No one likes being told that their fears are insane or irrational; it’s not hard to see why people gravitate towards communities that say “yes, you were right all along, and everyone who told you that you were nuts to be worried about this is just a dumb sheep. We believe you, and we have evidence that you were right along, right here.” Fear is a powerful motivator, and you can make people believe and do some pretty extreme things if you just keep telling them “yes, that thing you’re afraid of is true, but also it’s way worse than you could have ever imagined.”

Real information is often complicated, hard to understand, and inherently unsatisfying. 

The information that comes from the scientific community is often very frustrating for a layperson; we want science to have hard-and-fast answers, but it doesn’t. The closest you get to a straight answer is often “it depends” or “we don’t know, but we think X might be likely”. Understanding the results of a scientific study with any confidence requires knowing about sampling practices, error types, effect sizes, confidence intervals and publishing biases. Even asking a simple question like “is X bad for my child” will usually get you a complicated, uncertain answer - in most cases, it really just depends. Not understanding complex topics makes people afraid - it makes it hard to trust that they’re being given the right information, and that they’re making the right choices. 

Conspiracy theories and misinformation, on the other hand, are often simple, and they are certain. Vaccines bad. Natural things good. 5G bad. Organic food good. The reason girls won’t date you isn’t a complex combination of your social skills, hygiene, appearance, projected values, personal circumstances, degree of extroversion, luck and life phase - girls won’t date you because feminism is bad, and if we got rid of feminism you’d have a girlfriend. The reason Donald Trump was an unpopular president wasn’t a complex combination of his public bigotry, lack of decorum, lack of qualifications, open incompetence, nepotism, corruption, loss of soft power, refusal to uphold the basic responsibilities of his position or his constant lying - they hated him because he was fighting a secret sex cult and they’re all in it. 

Instead of making you feel stupid because you’re overwhelmed with complex information, expert opinions and uncertain advice, conspiracy theories make you feel smart - smarter, in fact, than everyone who doesn’t believe in them. And that’s a powerful thing for people living in a credential-heavy world. 

Many conspiracy theories are unfalsifiable. 

It is very difficult to prove a negative. If I tell you, for instance, that there’s no such thing as a purple swan, it would be very difficult for me to actually prove that to you - I could spend the rest of my life photographing swans and looking for swans and talking to people who know a lot about swans, and yet the slim possibility would still exist that there was a purple swan out there somewhere that I just hadn’t found yet. That’s why, in most circumstances, the burden of proof lies with the person making the extraordinary claim - if you tell me that purple swans exist, we should continue to assume that they don’t until you actually produce a purple swan. 

Conspiracy theories, however, are built so that it’s nearly impossible to “prove” them wrong. Is there any proof that the world’s top-ranking politicians and celebrities are all in a giant child sex trafficking cult? No. But can you prove that they aren’t in a child sex-trafficking cult? No, not really. Even if I, again, spent the rest of my life investigating celebrities and following celebrities and talking to people who know celebrities, I still couldn’t definitely prove that this cult doesn’t exist - there’s always a chance that the specific celebrities I’ve investigated just aren’t in the cult (but other ones are!) or that they’re hiding evidence of the cult even better than we think. Lack of evidence for a conspiracy theory is always treated as more evidence for the theory - we can’t find anything because this goes even higher up than we think! They’re even more sophisticated at hiding this than we thought! People deeply entrenched in these theories don’t even realize that they are stuck in a circular loop where everything seems to prove their theory right - they just see a mountain of “evidence” for their side. 

Our brains are very attached to information that we “learned” by ourselves.

Learning accurate information is not a particularly interactive or exciting experience. An expert or reliable source just presents the information to you in its entirety, you read or watch the information, and that’s the end of it. You can look for more information or look for clarification of something, but it’s a one-way street - the information is just laid out for you, you take what you need, end of story. 

Conspiracy theories, on the other hand, almost never show their hand all at once. They drop little breadcrumbs of information that slowly lead you where they want you to go. This is why conspiracy theorists are forever telling you to “do your research” - they know that if they tell you everything at once, you won’t believe them. Instead, they want you to indoctrinate yourself slowly over time, by taking the little hints they give you and running off to find or invent evidence that matches that clue. If I tell you that celebrities often wear symbols that identify them as part of a cult and that you should “do your research” about it, you can absolutely find evidence that substantiates my claim - there are literally millions of photos of celebrities out there, and anyone who looks hard enough is guaranteed to find common shapes, poses and themes that might just mean something (they don’t - eyes and triangles are incredibly common design elements, and if I took enough pictures of you, I could also “prove” that you also clearly display symbols that signal you’re in the cult). 

The fact that you “found” the evidence on your own, however, makes it more meaningful to you. We trust ourselves, and we trust that the patterns we uncover by ourselves are true. It doesn’t feel like you’re being fed misinformation - it feels like you’ve discovered an important truth that “they” didn’t want you to find, and you’ll hang onto that for dear life. 

Older people have not learned to be media-literate in a digital world. 

Fifty years ago, not just anyone could access popular media. All of this stuff had a huge barrier to entry - if you wanted to be on TV or be in the papers or have a radio show, you had to be a professional affiliated with a major media brand. Consumers didn’t have easy access to niche communities or alternative information - your sources of information were basically your local paper, the nightly news, and your morning radio show, and they all more or less agreed on the same set of facts. For decades, if it looked official and it appeared in print, you could probably trust that it was true. 

Of course, we live in a very different world today - today, any asshole can accumulate an audience of millions, even if they have no credentials and nothing they say is actually true (like “The Food Babe”, a blogger with no credentials in medicine, nutrition, health sciences, biology or chemistry who peddles health misinformation to the 3 million people who visit her blog every month). It’s very tough for older people (and some younger people) to get their heads around the fact that it’s very easy to create an “official-looking” news source, and that they can’t necessarily trust everything they find on the internet. When you combine that with a tendency toward “clickbait headlines” that often misrepresent the information in the article, you have a generation struggling to determine who they can trust in a media landscape that doesn’t at all resemble the media landscape they once knew. 

These beliefs become a part of someone’s identity. 

A person doesn’t tell you that they believe in anti-vaxx information - they tell you that they ARE an anti-vaxxer. Likewise, people will tell you that they ARE a flat-earther, a birther, or a Gamergater. By design, these beliefs are not meant to be something you have a casual relationship with, like your opinion of pizza toppings or how much you trust local weather forecasts - they are meant to form a core part of your identity. 

And once something becomes a core part of your identity, trying to make you stop believing it becomes almost impossible. Once we’ve formed an initial impression of something, facts just don’t change our minds. If you identify as an antivaxxer and I present evidence that disproves your beliefs, in your mind, I’m not correcting inaccurate information - I am launching a very personal attack against a core part of who you are. In fact, the more evidence I present, the more you will burrow down into your antivaxx beliefs, more confident than ever that you are right. Admitting that you are wrong about something that is important to you is painful, and your brain would prefer to simply deflect conflicting information rather than subject you to that pain.

We can see this at work with something called the confirmation bias. Simply put, once we believe something, our brains hold on to all evidence that that belief is true, and ignore evidence that it’s false. If I show you 100 articles that disprove your pet theory and 3 articles that confirm it, you’ll cling to those 3 articles and forget about the rest. Even if I show you nothing but articles that disprove your theory, you’ll likely go through them and pick out any ambiguous or conflicting information as evidence for “your side”, even if the conclusion of the article shows that you are wrong - our brains simply care about feeling right more than they care about what is actually true.  

There is a strong community aspect to these theories. 

There is no one quite as supportive or as understanding as a conspiracy theorist - provided, of course, that you believe in the same conspiracy theories that they do. People who start looking into these conspiracy theories are told that they aren’t crazy, and that their fears are totally valid. They’re told that the people in their lives who doubted them were just brainwashed sheep, but that they’ve finally found a community of people who get where they’re coming from. Whenever they report back to the group with the “evidence” they’ve found or the new elaborations on the conspiracy theory that they’ve been thinking of (“what if it’s even worse than we thought??”), they are given praise for their valuable contributions. These conspiracy groups often become important parts of people’s social networks - they can spend hours every day talking with like-minded people from these communities and sharing their ideas. 

Of course, the flipside of this is that anyone who starts to doubt or move away from the conspiracy immediately loses that community and social support. People who have broken away from antivaxx and QAnon often say that the hardest part of leaving was losing the community and friendships they’d built - not necessarily giving up on the theory itself. Many people are rejected by their real-life friends and family once they start to get entrenched in conspiracy theories; the friendships they build online in the course of researching these theories often become the only social supports they have left, and losing those supports means having no one to turn to at all. This is by design - the threat of losing your community has kept people trapped in abusive religious sects and cults for as long as those things have existed. 

[beachedmessagebottles]

Journal Entry

Summary: A peculiar Pokémon Platinum is picked up by a child named Kate, the journal feature showing words it normally doesn’t.

CW: Alluded to subjects of childhood fear, abandonment, loneliness, nightmares, sentient game characters, and game deletion.

I don’t think I need much of an introduction, everyone likes Pokémon. Okay, that’s not necessarily true, but it’s popular, and I like it. I liked it since I was a little kid. However, I spent a long time actually being afraid of Pokémon games when I was younger? I was in elementary school when I got my first Pokémon game. People might call me a fraidy-cat, but everybody has a stupid fear when they were a kid. Kids are imaginative.

I don’t really know how to describe this in rational thought. I recently revisited it and well… I can’t. I just can’t tell what to make of it. I offer no reasonings, no logic, nothing to make sense of this. It just is. Maybe I should just start already.

I got Pokémon Platinum for Christmas when I was little. I was a little worried because of Giratina on the cover but Palkia and Dialga didn’t strike me as ‘really cool’ either. I thought perhaps if it ever showed up, a grown-up could help me scare it away. I knew of Pokémon due to the anime I caught sometimes when watching TV, that’s why I wanted it, but at that point I didn’t know many legendaries or the formula, I didn’t know it was at the end of the game. I thought it would appear at any moment.

I still played it of course despite me being a little shaken, I was still excited it was a new game to play. I’d just choose the ones I actually found cute or cool. So, I started and it was standard normal fair. I named my character my own name, I named my rival (though kept it as Barry), and chose my first Pokémon, a cute little Piplup named ‘PENGIE.’

My journey was normal. I didn’t know what I was doing and fainted constantly, but I was having fun at least. I saved maybe about once, and I skipped over boring tutorials because they didn’t interest little me. I eventually got all my stuff from my in-game mom. The journal somewhat peaked my interest, could I write in it? It turns out, I couldn’t, it records bits and pieces of your adventure with help from the clock, a little reminder on what you were doing each day, like if you caught a Pokémon. I don’t find it all that helpful in my adult years but right then and there I liked to pretend I was writing it down myself.

December 25 Thursday

Started from Twinleaf Town.

For some reason, those words just made me very happy.

One day though, I made a crucial mistake of not saving. I was horribly upset that I lost some progress. I had lost my first badge but even more upset I was at losing some of my Pokémon. The journal booting up proved that. In some desperate attempt to prove myself wrong I flipped through the pages.

December 29 Monday

STARLY was caught (Day) Route 202

BIDOOF was caught (Day) Route 204

BIDOOF was caught (Day) Route 204

Remember to save!

I was ecstatic that it remembered. I didn’t notice if they technically weren’t the same Pokémon I had actually caught. They were them in my mind. I quickly rushed to catch them again and swore I’d never let them go. I saved immediately after that, not taking my second chance for granted. I never forgot to save after that. Just in case I reset the game to calm my nerves that they’d actually be still there.

December 29 Monday

STARLY was caught (Day) Route 202

BIDOOF was caught (Day) Route 204

BIDOOF was caught (Day) Route 204

Don’t worry KATE, you’ll remember.

I’ll help you until then.

It was comforting, but I didn’t know exactly whoever was talking to me. I flipped the page.

December 29 Monday

Oh! That’s right!

I haven’t introduced myself!

We have the same name,

But you can call me DAWN.

I hope you like the world of Pokémon.

And I did. I loved it. I was absolutely fine until Floaroma Town. There were sketchy Plasma members I was warned about, but the fact they were holding a little girl’s father hostage wasn’t a pleasant thought. I didn’t want to touch the game for a while before gathering the courage to.

January 10 Saturday

Started in Floaroma Town.

I know you’re scared

But we can’t let this happen

Our Pokémon are by our side

I’m by your side.

Be careful with Mars.

I didn’t know who Mars was yet, but I took Dawn’s advice. I pieced together that she was the player character with how she referred to the Pokémon I caught. Every time I saved she wrote in a journal, or at least the icon was, it made perfect sense to me. I followed her word however, the Purrugly hit hard, but with Dawn’s warning, we took it down with ease.

It was like this for the rest of the game. She would tell me what to do and I’d follow it, I didn’t know about EVs and IVs but Dawn did. She told me to attack specific Pokémon, build the best team I could while also letting me pick the ones I absolutely had to have at that exact moment, focus on the harder battles ahead while grinding so I didn’t lose too much steam.

The story however I didn’t like as much, the shaking of my screen while Team Plasma attacked lakes was too much. Dawn said that they needed our help, but I couldn’t listen.

February 20 Friday

You’ve been gone a while.

I’m sorry, if it was too much.

We can train instead?

March 11 Wednesday

Hi again, KATE!

Are you ready now?

March 12 Thursday

Is that a no?

We can focus on the POKÉDEX!

May 31 Sunday

Is it that bad? Are you that scared?

We’re friends, right, KATE? You can tell me.

June 4 Thursday

It’s summer now, isn’t it?

Are you more free?

Thank you for finishing up the lakes.

She wasn’t as talkative in the summertime. I felt bad, so I kept avoiding it. I don’t know why, it would’ve been easier to tell her that I was. Did I just not want to admit it? It happened so long ago my memory’s somewhat hazy of that summer.

What I won’t forget is everyone’s first jumpscare. Giratina’s red pupils might as well have bored into my soul as it swept at my face. I grimaced, shutting the game off. Remembering the reset would only go back, I hid under my covers as I turned it back on.

July 8 Wednesday

Oh.

I forgot.

I’m so sorry. Please don’t go.

July 8 Wednesday

I don’t want to be alone.

I don’t want you to be scared.

It’s not real. It won’t hurt you.

Despite those words, I shut my eyes tight during the start screen and now the cutscene with Giratina. The Distortion World made no sense. I nearly broke down in tears as I caught it in the Master Ball.

July 8 Wednesday

You’re so brave, Kate.

I’m sorry that I had to continue.

You can leave anytime. I won’t blame you.

I don’t want to lie to you.

I’ll tell more when you come back.

See you… sometime.

I had nightmares for a long while of that place, I fell through holes, I got lost in circles, Giratina dragged me down to the depths of darkness. Its wings pierced and out my body in a cage if it’s skeletal-like wings. The Master Ball would jiggle until the third and final time, with a sickening crack, its roar deafening my ears. I hated it so much.

I tried at least to gather the courage, she had said she’d explain, but I didn’t want to see that hideous thing ever again, so I avoided the boxes as much as I could while making my final way up to the champion’s title while shivering in my boots.

August 3 Monday

You’re back, you’re really back!

I’m so glad. I thought you’d left for good.

The truth is I’m not supposed to talk to you

I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling.

But I wanted to so much,

I wanted to meet my friend.

My player.

I, Dawn, am just who you are here in the world.

August 3 Monday

I could tell by the mic, you’re pretty young.

So I wanted to guide you on your first journey.

I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense.

Just know you’ll always make me happy.

That’s all I want to make you.

She just wanted to make me happy and yet, I couldn’t be happy, with it hanging over my head. Not that a little kid would’ve understood the sword of Damocles, but to me it was exactly like that. If I went into my boxes, there it would be. I refused. I shuddered. I perished the thought. To never see it again, I’d have to get rid of it, but I couldn’t face it, not as pixels on a screen, not on the box, not on the cartridge.

She wanted to be happy for me, I wanted to be rid of this horrid thing. I swallowed, I just had to finish. Though I dared not enter the boxes, she tried to prepare me anyways. Rare candies hidden in secret spots, all the elixirs and potions I could hold, the coveted revives. A trick of saving before and after every Elite 4 member. I was unfortunately ready.

It was tough, when you can’t swap around the members due to stubbornness, yet I managed, PENGIE had stayed all the way in the team, and my other Pokémon weren’t much to scoff at after training, even if little me wanted to bring in less stronger Pokémon like Chatot. Dawn didn’t say much to it, presumably awkwardly, though she commented she liked it’s voice clip, a cut off of me saying ‘hi.’

Any Pokémon game can be won, even if it’s Champion is tough as nails, I threw myself at her over and over until it was done, the ace Garchomp whittled down to its last hit points. I held my breath at the last move— we had won. The look back of Dawn and all our Pokémon was sweet. Too sweet for me as I stared back at the cover case of the game, goosebumps littering my skin. I didn’t want to be here anymore, I didn’t want to see it anymore.

I can make our last play-throughs count. She’ll understand, I’m happy that we won, at least. So, she’ll be happy too with what I can give her. With all the money I had left over, I went to work, buying all the balls I could.

August 4 Sunday

That’s a lot of Pokéballs,

are you finishing the Dex?

There’s some that are trade evolutions.

You’ll have to trade with other people.

I didn’t do that.

I walked into the tall grass, expecting to find say a Rattata, fodder. I instead found a new Pokémon I had helped before, and it had helped me. Mesprit. I was amazed about it roaming around, even though I had been told before. I lobbed a ball at it, full health. It refused to stay. It didn’t say the usual text though when the ball broke open.

What am I doing wrong?

Huh. Was that Dawn? It couldn’t be, she only spoke through the entries. I tossed another ball.

I want to be a good guide for her. For Kate.

It was her. Being curious, I chose the regular Pokéball, but I only had a few left at this point.

What’s she doing?

Is this my fault? Am I scaring her?

The game is.

But I can’t change that.

I want to be a good trainer for her.

It’s not supposed to be ‘scary.’

What will happen to me?

We’re supposed to be friends.

I’m scared.

I want to convince her but I can’t force her.

I don’t want her to leave.

I can’t think when the game is off.

I’m scared.

I’m just a kid too.

Mesprit used Struggle!

It’s health dropped a little, and the dialogue went back to normal, no matter what I chose.

I think I turned the game off then. I don’t know, it’s been years.

Dawn was just an imaginary friend I had as a kid. I found my DS, dusty and old with the cartridge in, it took a while to charge it, I couldn’t find the plug. A rush of nostalgia came to me, Giratina doesn’t scare me anymore, I’m older now, I’m an adult. How could it?

The journal opened up.

September 13 Tuesday

Kate? Is that you?

You’re back?

You’re actually back?

I blinked. I flipped the page.

September 13 Tuesday

You’re so old now.

But you’re back.

You didn’t leave me.

One more page. My screen was suddenly wet with tears.

September 13 Tuesday

I’m so happy.

The game doesn’t move. I pressed any button I could. There was no response. I pressed the power button to reset.

The save file has been erased due to corruption or damage.

[amaranthineoceans]

Everything Weird About Deltarune!

Spoiler Warning for Undertale and Both Chapters of Deltarune! Really! I Literally Go Through Everything I Can Remember About Them!

This is a long post so get comfortable. Also note that my brain doesn't process thoughts into words very well so some of these might not be worded in the best way. :)

Deltarune. The first teaser chapter was released on October 31, 2018, and it came out of nowhere. We've all gone through this, but I'll try and go through every single painstaking detail I can remember. Feel free to reblog and add/correct things.

The weirdness begins right off the bat. The title is an anagram of UNDERTALE. We all know Toby likes to use anagrams when he wants to indirectly tell us when things are related, so it's no surprise that when you go to download DELTARUNE, it warns you that the game is designed for people who have played UNDERTALE. You think, "Cool, so it's a sequel? Or maybe a prequel? A different perspective of UNDERTALE perhaps?" You were wrong; so terribly, terribly wrong! I'll elaborate on this later.

Before you download the application, the terms of service that you must agree to beforehand reads simply and plainly, "You accept everything that will happen from now on." This detail was kinda brushed off in the beginning, because, hey, it's Toby Fox. He does weird stuff all the time. But even in the first chapter, it's apparent that the concept of choice, or more accurately, the lack of it, is a very present theme in the game. I would like to remind you that Toby has announced that there will be one ending in the game. One. I'll elaborate on this later.

The program (as in, what the game is called in your files) is named SURVEY PROGRAM. Why not just call it Deltarune like it is when you download chapter two?

The game launches you, without a title screen, without any setting adjustment options, straight into a reference to the theme of the entire franchise: the lack of choice. A strange formless voice guides you through "making a vessel", with what we know now as a fountain in the background. You have the option to make some very disturbing choices in this character creator, such as making its favorite flavor "pain" or expressing your feelings about it with options such as "fear" and "disgust." You name your "creation," tell the formless voice your name (which is different from your vessel's name) and watch as said formless voice muses over your name at an agonizing pace. It thanks you for your time and tells you that your wonderful creation, (cue music cutout and background removal) will now be discarded. "No one can choose who they are in this world." The screen slowly turns white as the voice says, "Your... name... is..."

It gets weirder. The next scene appears from the whiteness and showcases Toriel calling "Kris" out of bed. Kris' area of the room is very bare in contrast to the other side, which we later discover is Asriel's.

It's Toriel. Why is Toriel here?

Kris is kind of an anagram of Frisk (the protagonist of UNDERTALE) but without the F. I highly doubt this is a coincidence.

Speaking with Noelle is the only reason you can proceed (see what i did there?) while finding a partner in the classroom. This means you can't go through the 1st chapter without knowing who she is. Is it because of the Snowgrave route?

Ralsei is just suspicious to me. There's no way he was just waiting in that castle his whole life alone without some mental toil. So either he's insane or he wasn't alone the whole time. What happened? Is it related to how he can close his eyes and see what Susie is going through when she's apart from the party? Was he just watching everything? Is he related to the formless voice?

Susie's icon is the only one without color in the Dark World.

Jevil's fight is more difficult than Sans'.

Your actions have little consequence in the first chapter. If you choose to go genocide, the only difference in the ending is being run out of the kingdom, and this doesn't carry over to the next chapter. Again, lack of choice, people.

If at the end of chapter one, you walk around town, it's mentioned (notably by Noelle) that you're usually not this talkative. If you go to the hospital and speak with the receptionist, they mention that you used to play the piano in the corner. If you decide to attempt to play the said piano, an out-of-key bash can be heard and the receptionist comments on how you used to play beautifully. If you try this in chapter two, the result is the same. All this is confirmation that Kris is acting noticeably weird.

When you leave the Dark World and walk around town, you can find Sans. He "pretends" to recognize you, and if you tell him you recognize him, he tells you it's funny, considering that you two have never met before. He winks. I'm pretty sure he knows that the player is there.

The mention of Papyrus in both games, but the purposeful lack of him. Like he's avoiding you.

If you go upstairs while inside Asgore's flower shop, there are flowers in glass cases resembling his SOUL collection in UNDERTALE. There's a red flower.

You can't enter the church.

The clock in the storage closet shows a different time than all the others in the school.

If you go all the way south in town and into the woods, the music stops and you come across a rusty, double door is in a hill covered in crass. It's locked. If you go this way in chapter two, however, you watch a cutscene where you and susie happen to find Monster Kid from UNDERTALE (or someone resembling them) and an owl kid in front of the door. The owl kid is pressuring Monster Kid to (presumably) break inside, telling them that they don't want to be a wimp like Kris. Does this imply that Kris is connected to this strange door somehow?

The ending. You know what I'm talking about.

Did Kris actually rip out the SOUL (I say "the" because I'm not entirely sure it's Kris') and knife because they wanted to eat the pie? Did they only eat the pie because Toriel caught them?

Why did they look at the player? Are they sick of being controlled? Is that why they freaked out after the Spamton fight? (later)

Anyway, now we're at chapter two.

DELTARUNE Chapter Two was released on September 17th, 2021. 17. Entry Number 17. Sound familiar?

Asriel's part of the room is different from the last chapter. I don't think this means anything sinister, but I think it means Kris notices different things about the room as the story progresses. My theory is that it will become more sinister in each chapter.

Ralsei getting super excited to see Susie and Kris after a day. As in he has separation anxiety and it breaks my heart. not anything suspicious but it makes me sad so it's on the list.

Kris and Susie's rooms. Ralsei REALLY doesn't want them to leave. Seriously get this boy a therapist. Or a stuffed animal. SOMETHING.

Kris having to gather everything from the storage closet so that people appear in the Dark World????? Why??????????????? They had to do the same thing for the computer lab too.

The golden door. I don't trust it.

How/why the heck did Noelle and Berdley go into the Computer Lab Dark World? I don't see either of them just walking into pulsing void doors without Susie.

Apparently the knight has been gone for a bit and can corrupt people's minds? The king in the first chapter doesn't seem like he can be redeemed but Queen just seems,,, not bad, but a little crazy. I wonder what happened.

Then again, name ONE person in this franchise without trauma.

Spamton.

Horror doesn't bother me. Spamton? Spamton bothers me.

SPAMTON. ENOUGH SAID.

A Kromer is a type of hat invented in the '70s. Nobody named Mike is associated with it, that I can find.

SPAMPTON. HOW DO I EVEN DESCRIBE IT.

HIS SONG IS THE ONLY ONE WITH WORDS.

The way he asks Kris is they want to be a heart on a chain their whole life. Like, dude, no wonder they were screaming after the fight.

WHERE DID THE YELLOW HEART COME FROM. YELLOW MEANS JUSTICE. WHY DOES JUSTICE APPLY.

Kris screaming after the fight and the player not being able to hear it. Don't you dare tell me that's just how the game is designed. There are sound effects characters make throughout the game. None that I can think of apply to Kris, apart from when they rip their soul out.

Ralsei brushing off the Spamton fight. Either that's his coping mechanism or he was trying to shut Susie and Kris up to protect them from... something. I'll touch on that in a minute.

According to Queen, DETERMINATION is a key factor in creating a fountain.

Also according to Queen, Kris, Noelle, and Susie all have DETERMINATION SOULS.

Ralsei freaking out about Berdley making a fountain implies that he may also have DETERMINATION. Why I'm bringing all this up will make sense soon.

How was Noelle able to cast Snowgrave... a spell that she, according to her, didn't know?

The Snowgrave route is so twisted.

You manipulate Noelle into killing Berdley and then, when you get back to the computer lab and investigate his corpse, the text box says that he doesn't seem to be awake. As if you're in denial?

Burgerpants recognizes you. Not Kris. As in the player.

The ending. I don't think I need to describe it. Kris is very methodical without the SOUL. (I say "the" because, again, I'm not 100% convinced it's theirs.) I'm saying this about how they left clues that someone broke into the This proves that they are NOT a mindless, vengeful husk.

HOW DID THEY MAKE THE FOUNTAIN WITHOUT THE SOUL INSIDE OF THEM. DID THEY FEED THE SOUL TO IT AFTERWARDS? IS THAT WHAT THAT WAS?

Another point I would like to make is my theory that Ralsei knows much more than he would have us believe. I might put this into a different post because I have yet to gather my points into a coherent bullet point list, so keep an eye out for that.

Anyway apart from Toriel and Susie being VERY heavy sleepers, I think I've gone through everything. I have a few theories.

1. Kris is possessed by the player and figured out that they could make a fountain from Queen and related to Spamton freaking out about freedom. They then decided to make a fountain going by the logic that "this would tick the player off." This is one of my top theories that assumes that the SOUL is theirs.

And 2. Kris is possessed by both the player and the knight. I think the formless voice at the very beginning of the game is the knight, and they somehow needed the player to possess someone with DETERMINATION. If so, then why Kris? We know from Queen that Noelle and Susie, and maybe even Berdley also have DETERMINATION. The most plausible thing I can think of is the fact that human souls are stronger than monster ones.

I do think that the popular theory (about the one that suggests that the Dark Word is nothing but a figment of a child's imagination, and the events that occur in said Dark World are simply children playing with toys) has been thoroughly dashed due to Berdley's murder in the genocide route of the second chapter. Unless he's not dead. Regardless, how the events (or lack thereof) that occur in the second chapter play through the next will be interesting, especially considering Toby's announcement about how there will be one ending to the game. So either Berdley isn't dead, or he will be.

Aaaand I think that's it! Sorry for the long post; let me know your thoughts and if I missed anything!

[jaeger-bombastic-was-taken]

The fact that if you tell him the truth before the trial, he would offer to flee the city with Grace. His first instinct is to run, get Grace as far away from Athena as he could, so that maybe she'd stop hunting her down.

But during the trial he stopped compromising. He steps up, first facing down Athena, then the furies, ready to just straight up die together. All your partners would do this yes, but the fact that Pan, of all people, chose to risk his hide for this? Literally nobody in the entire pantheon thought that was even possible, and he finally got his chance to prove them all (and himself!) wrong. That he was capable of more than just self-absorption.

The fact that he'd still do all this even if you sacrificed your eidolon and became a regular mortal woman again.

He spent the game hiding behind his bravado because he thought Grace might die at the trial and didn't want to get attached; and by the end of the game he'd do everything to save her, even if she was mortal and her leaving him too soon became inevitable, exactly as he feared. Even if they both bite it and nothing changes, it mattered that he tried, and owned up to his mistakes.

You mentioned he threatened Athena, but really before anything else, he said that if she were to cut anyone down, it should be him. He felt guilty for inadvertedly selling out Calliope, too. After the trial, he'd say, "I meant what I sang. I'm not a good man. Had Athena taken me up on my offer, the idols would've been better off."

Throughout the game, everyone's skeptical of Pan. He makes offhand comments about how none of the idols really trust him, how he's maligned as the shifty guy who's only out for himself. The guy you'd go to just when you really need some favor. He laughs about it, plays it off as jokes. And his behaviour directly enforces that image, it does not help his case whatsoever and he knows it! He thinks they're exactly right, that he can't change what he is, and that rep may even be convenient for him actually, so why would he ever want to?

All in all, his path really resonated with me, personally. People are gonna be skeptical of him no matter what, so he learned to just push everyone out and pretend that's better. I know that guy. I am that guy!

But with a bit of encouraging, he got to try and make it up to Calliope, and prove to himself that he can be better. That he's allowed to experience his authentic thoughts and feelings, and stop pretending like he doesn't care about anyone but himself, even when it hurts. You make me want to try.

His route's super underrated!!

OK, but the way Pan spends the entire game trying to save his own hide, make sure it wasn't his fault Calliope died and to hide his involvement but if romanced he steps up to threaten Athena. Like, it's almost expected from the others (e.g. Apollo stood up to Athena, though subtly, the very first time we saw him and Persephone is Persephone) but it's such a pleasant surprise from Pan. Even in the friendship route, if you call on him to stand by you, Athena is surprised that he does.

[asirensrage]

there’s a heaven above you (don’t you cry) - part 7

Rating: M Pairing: Lost Boys/OC Fandom: The Lost Boys Warnings: swearing and sex. Seriously. There is sex in this chapter. Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about time travel is that you don’t have any control over where you end up or when you leave. It just happens. It also hurts like a bitch. Notes: This will be a poly pairing, so if you’re not into that, don’t read. previous/masterlist also on ao3

Part 7: Need You Tonight

Darcy still felt dazed by the time she got back to her motel. Whatever she had been suspecting from the men, it certainly hadn’t been to be kissed senseless by two of them. Not that she was complaining. She just now seriously wished she didn’t travel completely empty-handed. She could really use her vibrator. At least she had her hands.

She fell asleep, exhausted and not completely satisfied. It felt like she was missing something, though considering she had just been between two men who seemed determined to drive all thought from her brain through their lips, that was no surprise.

Clarity did not come while she was at work. She was conflicted. The bikers had been following her around since they met. They kept trying to get her to go with them and when she refused, they upped their game. First, it was the concert, the pizza and help vandalizing, and then the kiss. Kisses. But she couldn’t actually be certain what they wanted from her. Her past relationships weren’t anywhere near this intense...or determined. Not that she could call it a relationship. For all she knew, they were aware that she was alone in this town and decided they were going to sacrifice her. She’d be just another missing poster on the wall. Or not even a poster, unless Sampson went looking for her.

She tried to shove down the voice at the back of her head telling her that she wasn’t worth it. That they didn’t actually want her because who would, or that they only wanted her until something better came along. They’ll take off when they realize what a mess she is. She’s too much of a bother for people to actually give a shit. It sounded far too much like her mother.

Darcy wanted to believe that they wanted her. It was just too easy not to. She scowled at the empty store. Even decades back in time wasn’t far enough away from her family. They kept haunting her even when she wasn’t born yet. It was bullshit. She was tempted to take the bikers up on their next offer if only to prove her doubts wrong. There was the fear though that they weren’t. The men were intimidating. It was easy to feel like prey when they stared at you, demanding something you wouldn’t give.

At the same time though, she felt oddly protected and seen at the concert, surrounded by them. Sure, they were assholes for the most part, but they also listened to her. That was a rare thing.

“You’re okay.”

She looked up to see Clark standing in front of her counter. “Of course. I’m always fine.” The context of the word changed but it was true. It all determined on how someone defined it.

“I wasn’t sure. Lot of…” he paused.

“Lot of what?” she asked, curious. “Might as well tell me since you started it already.”

He looked away before his expression settled into something serious. “Lot of the people seen with them end up on the missing board.”

How sad was it that the bulletin board on the boardwalk was known as the missing board? She knew that already though. Frankie had never returned. It was part of why she suspected they were aiming for her next. At the same time though, something suggested it was different. They had protected her somewhat. Dwayne acted like a lookout, ensuring she didn’t get caught for breaking the asshole’s car.

“You got any tips for me?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Didn’t you just tell me you expected I’d be murdered?”

He gave a shrug. “That’s why I should get the tips now. Just in case.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Alright, fair point.” Darcy thought about it for a moment. “Invest in computers. They’ll go a long way.”

His brow scrunched up in confusion. “Computers? Like War Games?”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Exactly. Trust me. Put a little money in like...IBM or Apple. The people making them,” she explained. “You’ll hit the jackpot. Just make sure it’s only in your name and not your parents.” Darcy didn’t really know what was going on with his folks but it was better safe than sorry. She knew how shitty they could be.

“Huh. Doubt anyone’s going to sell me stock,” he kicked at her counter and shoved his hands into his pockets. Probably not, but she didn’t say that.

She gave a shrug. “I’ll help you figure it out. Not like I’m going to give advice I’m not taking myself.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if unsure. “Really?”

“Even if I have to buy them for you myself,” she promised. Darcy liked Clark, even if he was her minion.

“Thanks, Darce.” He turned to leave before he paused and looked back at her. “Don’t get murdered, okay?”

“Sure, now that I promised to help you invest,” she drawled. She gave him a soft smile. “I’ll be careful.”

He nodded before looking distinctly uncomfortable before he took off. Probably wasn’t used to trying to admit that he cared. Maybe he’d be the one who would put up missing posters when she eventually disappeared. It was nice to know someone might.

Darcy closed the shop early. She didn’t entirely feel like going back to her motel. Especially since the bikers knew where she lived...and worked. It wasn't that she expected them to appear, but she needed time to think. They had a tendency to piss her off enough that she just reacted instead of really considering things through. She didn’t really want that space, not when her mother’s voice played all of her negative thoughts in her mind, but she needed it. Maybe.

She kicked at a rock as she walked, trying to decide if it was worth it. Risk of death for trying to figure out if they actually wanted her? At least she’d die feeling great. Well, only if they killed her while they kissed her. She sighed. God, what a kiss. She felt her face flush as she thought about it.

“Thinking about us, rosy-girl?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, turning to see Dwayne stepping up next to her. “Jesus fucking christ! Don’t do that!”

He grinned slightly before offering her a lit cigarette. She narrowed her eyes. Handy that he had that prepped.

“You prep that?” she asked, taking it from him. She inhaled slowly, letting the nicotine help calm her heart rate down.

“Just know what you need.”

“Sure,” she exhaled. “Why are you here? Better yet, how’d you find me?”

“Saw you while I was out.”

She stopped walking and pointed at him with the fingers holding the cigarette. “I don’t believe you.” She took another drag. “How do I know you’re not just trying to butter me up to lead me to end up as one of the posters on the boardwalk?”

He moved so that he was standing closer in front of her. She’d be able to touch his abs if she just reached out. “That won’t happen.”

“Oh yeah?” She scowled up at him. “And what? I’m supposed to just trust your word? I don’t know you, Dwayne. I don’t know your friends. For all I know, you’re just waiting until I finally accept your stupid invitation to party and you deal with me so I don’t fucking tell anyone about Frankie!” She shoved past him, walking away.

He grabbed her arm, turning her to face him back. “Maybe we know something you don’t.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You belong with us,” he said softly.

She scoffed. “I don’t belong with anyone.” It was her mother’s words that she parrotted. They came out before she could stop herself. She tried not to wince. Dwayne shifted closer and she felt like snarling. She wanted to be let go. These were not games that she liked to play and she felt vulnerable, like an open wound with the way he was watching her.

“That might have been true before,” he said with complete conviction. “But you’re here now. You came here for a reason and we found you. You’re ours now and we’re yours. Goes both ways.” It might have been the longest sentence he said to her at once.

God, she wished that was true. All of it, not just being here for a reason. Part of her wanted to be theirs too. She just couldn’t trust it.

She took a final drag of her smoke before dropping it and stomping it out. “Why?”

His hand dropped from her arm to her hand and he motioned for her to follow him. Come, Darcy. The world swayed and she followed automatically.

His bike was down the street, betraying his lie from earlier. He swung a leg over and nodded to her to join behind him.

“Come on, rosy-girl. Got something you’ll want to see.”

She paused for a moment before she got on. He grabbed her leg, pulling her to shift closer against him before he turned on the bike and revved the engine. She wrapped her arms around him, slipping her hands under his jacket and against his skin. She wasn’t about to waste the opportunity he presented.

Dwayne drove fast, weaving through people without a care as they got closer to the boardwalk. He didn’t hit it though. He turned before they reached it and took another route that somehow still had them on the beach. Darcy buried her face in the back of his jacket. The bike kicked up sand and she was going to be washing it out of her hair for a week.

He finally stopped and offered her his arm to hold on to while she got off. She glanced around. They were far from the boardwalk. Far from anywhere really except the ocean. The stars hung brightly in the sky and it was a strange thing to think that they’d be the only witness if she died out here. Why did she follow him?

“For someone who said they didn’t plan on murdering me, it sure seems like you are.”

He nodded for her to follow him. She was half tempted to just start walking back to the boardwalk. She could see it in the distance. Still, she had come this far. Might as well follow through at this point. At least she’d find out who was right, him or her insecurities.

She followed Dwayne only to stop once she realized where he was leading her. “A cave? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He threw her a look over his shoulder. She stuck out her tongue but continued on. “This better be worth it,” she muttered to herself. If she died in a cave, she was going to haunt his ass. She lost sight of him as soon as she took like two steps into the place. She stopped immediately. The stars did not provide enough light for her to go wandering in and be able to actually see. Fuck. She was going to die like one of those stupid blondes in a horror movie. “Dwayne?”

Something lit to her left and in seconds there was a small fire started. Dwayne stood up from where he was crouching before it and looked up. Darcy followed his gaze.

“Holy shit.” There was something in the cavern. The light glittered off of the rocks and whatever covered it. It almost looked as though she was surrounded by the stars. “How the hell did you find this?” She turned to look at him only to have her breath catch in her throat. He was right behind her.

“Been here a while.” He held something up, offering it to her. She frowned, confused at the paper before she took it and actually got a good look. It was a notice...of a car crash. Warmth bloomed in her chest as her eyes skimmed it. The jackass had crashed. Not that far from where he had been parked. They had to airlift him out. Likely to lose a leg. She couldn’t stop the smirk. She hoped it was the same one he used to kick the dog. Motherfucker deserved it.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

She looked up at him, carefully gauging his reaction. Was he appalled? There was a pleased, sort of vicious glint in his eye and her breath caught at the sight of it. “Immensely.”

“Celebration then.” He nodded to the side and sitting on one of the rocks by the fire was a funnel cake. It didn’t have any ice cream but it was covered in powdered sugar. It was her favourite thing from the boardwalk, though she rarely went. The only thing missing was strawberries.

“Oh my god.” She moved forward, pulling off a piece and eating it. It was just sweet enough. “Want some?” she offered, grabbing the plate and holding it out towards him. Dwayne took a small piece but seemed more content to watch her. She felt like she was being rewarded for the crash, for irrevocably changing someone’s life.

It had never been a thing before. People didn’t approve. Even those that egged her on in doing shit still scattered when it hit the fan. No one complimented her on the things she did. Maybe because she was usually blamed for things she didn’t. Like being the reason her sister failed a test or being unable to join her family on beach holidays because of the one time she supposedly ruined it. She had almost drowned but that didn’t matter. No one had ever given her what basically counted as cake for the damages she did cause.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

His hand went to her cheek, fingers digging in slightly to the back of her neck before he tilted her face up and kissed her. His lips moved against hers with purpose and his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. Part of her questioned this, the intensity of the moment before she shoved it down. Who the fuck cared? As long as he kept kissing her like that.

Darcy reached up, digging her hand into his hair. God, he had so much of it. He deepened the kiss, demanding more. She was willing to give him everything. She broke the kiss, gasping for air. Dwayne didn’t stop. His lips moved across her jaw and down her neck. She couldn’t stop the gasp as he bit down lightly. Fuck, that felt good. It felt like seconds before she was being lowered onto the ground and Dwayne had shucked off his jacket. When had he even gotten a blanket?

“You’re ours,” he said softly. He kissed her again, lips moving against hers as though he could brand her like that.

She ran her fingers up one of the arms he used to hold himself up above her. “Dwayne,” she murmured as she broke the kiss again. He went straight back to her neck, sucking at her skin before he pulled back slightly. His hand pushed up her top. She sat up, trying to ignore the doubt that prickled in the back of her mind as she pulled it off. Dwayne touched the skin under her breasts, fingers tracing patterns she didn’t recognize but still made her stomach clench. He was staring at the bare skin. She let out a slow breath.

“We doing this or what?” she asked softly, trying to gauge that sudden hesitation. “We can stop.”

His eyes met hers. “What do you want, Darcy?” It felt like he was asking something else, something that didn’t just have to do with the sex she was hoping was going to happen.

“Everything,” she breathed.

“That’s what we’ll give.” He settled in between her legs, hips against hers as he kissed her again, leaning more into her. She revelled in the feeling of him, the solidity and weight of his body on hers.

“Well, alright hotshot,” she scraped her teeth down his jaw. “Make me feel something.”

His eyes seemed to glow as he grinned at her. He ground his hips into her as he kissed her again.

Darcy wasn’t used to this. Not like this. His hand slipped under her bra, shoving it up while he kneaded the flesh that was freshly exposed. His mouth soon followed. He seemed to know exactly how she liked to be touched. There was nothing soft and teasing with how he held her. As he moved back, pulling at the shorts she wore, she didn’t catch any hesitation or the slightest grimace in his expression. He stared at her as though he almost didn’t recognize her but there was a warmth and hunger in his gaze that left no doubt. She shivered as a breeze went through the cave as if it was brought in from the ocean itself.

It broke whatever concentration Dwayne had and he was on her again before she could blink. His mouth went lower to the junction between her thighs. He fit as though he was meant to be there, fingers digging into her flesh as his tongue worked miracles. If she thought he knew what he was doing with the way he touched her, this was a new high. She dug her hand into his hair as he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder. She felt him shift and then start to use his fingers, pushing in one and then another. Fuck. She’d marry his hands just for this.

Her voice echoed off the cave walls as she cried out, muscles clenching tightly as she came hard. Dwayne didn’t pull back right away, continuing to lick and suck as though he hadn’t just made her see stars. Again.

She shoved him back, using the heel of the leg over his shoulder to dig into his collar bone. “Fucking hell,” she tried to catch her breath. “You can have me. I’ll die willingly and at peace,” she joked, unable to stop the slight laughter that followed. God, how many people had she dated that could fucking do that? The answer was none. At least not that she remembered. Then again, she could barely think.

“We’re not done.” He stood up and unbuttoned the jeans he wore. Forget time travel, she had clearly died and gone to heaven. Reward, she thought, for all the shit she had gone through. Dwayne kicked off the pants before he lowered himself back to her.

It didn’t take much to hook her leg around his hips. Dwayne kissed her like she was going to drown in him and he would let her. He wasn’t slow. He pushed in, groaning into her neck as she tried to adjust to the feel of him.

She swore under her breath as his teeth nipped at her neck. He pulled out slowly before thrusting back in. Her head fell back, mouth falling open. His hand was behind her back, cradling her skull as he increased his pace. His fingers dug into her skin and she dragged her nails across his back, trying to gain some purchase. She was going to break and it would be delicious. She would welcome it as long as he didn’t stop.

The hand under her dug into her hair and she felt him shift slightly, changing the pressure. Thank god they weren’t near anyone as she cried out, reaching that release and still feeling him fucking her. She thought she heard him growl but she was dazed, lost in him. His hips stuttered against hers slightly before he pulled out, turning away from her. She didn’t bother protesting. She wasn’t sure she could move at this moment and it was worth the entire risk of coming here.

Darcy lay there, trying to convince herself that she needed to get dressed. Despite the blanket under them, she probably had sand everywhere. Including places that she didn’t want to think about. Still worth it.

She watched as Dwayne moved, the firelight glinting off of his skin. The man was beautiful. They all were in different ways. Her eyes closed, just for a minute as she thought of what he said. You’re ours.

taglist: @raith-way @ocfairygodmother @lokitrasho @zeleniafic @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Molly O’Shea X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt [Sneak-Peek]

• Takes place during Chapter 2 of Red Dead Redemption 2 [Horseshoe Overlook];

• Linked to previous bouts of writing I did for this idea if you want to drop in and take at the last one I did for this: https://www.tumblr.com/angstyandromanticwriting/751283012968349696/molly-oshea-x-femreader-angsty-cute-and-fluffy

• The full version is currently set to be dropping at some point on Tuesday [obviously I will let you know if this changes in response to possible text block limit being breached when the full release is attempted];

• Transition of parts within this instalment indicated as usual utilising Roman Numerals;

• There will be more!

!TW(s) [so far]: Mention of (implied + clear) sexual occurrences as well as mild depiction of some eroticism (not explicit at all, really; I’ve done worse), forbidden love (essentially), some depiction of homophobia under a repressive system + as well as use of some derogatory terms to add to this idea, swearing + insult(s) (in general), depiction of self-doubt + implied suffering from depression; anxiety, as well as separation anxiety, threat(s) - (verbal + physical) - please, feel free to let me know if I’ve missed any here; thank you!

• Word Count (exclusive to this sneak-peek, for now):

- 1.5k [the full version is way worse, trust me]

Wait For Me/There’s Still Time

I

You weren’t exactly sure what had changed, since Arthur and Molly’s last hushed conversation. He’d only recently got back from the social call up at Six-Point Cabin, before he’d pulled her aside the way that he did, looking more worried than he ever had before - in your opinion, anyway. Some might say he appeared exactly the same, well - that wasn’t how you saw it.

He’d offered you a sympathetic glance as he passed by you, and Molly had been reluctant to leave your side, smiling sadly as well as quite apologetically in your direction, before she followed hesitantly behind him to hear what he had to say to her. You should have seen it coming that something was wrong, especially when you heard that Molly had begun to shout at him, but certainly not audibly enough for you to hear exactly what it was that they were worrying about, together. You already missed your last interaction with her; how she’d kissed you so sweetly, after you both had found yourself dangerously fooling around again, quite tantalisingly close to the new and more open campsite - now Horseshoe Overlook, a rather nice looking spot (again in your opinion, some others might disagree, though you couldn’t imagine how or why, at this point).

You were sure the both of you had been quiet enough to get away with anything, if that was the issue, here, but then it still put the both of you at risk of being discovered by those who didn’t yet know about your and her relationship, as of yet, here; how it could be seen as more of an issue by those who were greatly opposed to the idea of a woman being in love with another, somehow. The thought still managed to fluster you, sometimes; you liked to think yourself affected by her in such a way; it certainly felt as if you were - you though of her so often, as if you couldn’t stop; wished you could do more to see her smile at least just a little bit more over at you. Your heart sank a little when you thought about it; something definitely felt wrong, as you awaited for them to stop talking so she could return to you, if she could, anyway; you spied Dutch walking up to them, and you feared it might not be the case, knowing that whenever he was around she tried - where she could, and felt like doing so - to prove to the others that nothing exactly untoward was going on, whether it was a falsity, or not, anyway; you tried not to think about it too much, knowing it would only make it all the more harder to breathe if you did, thinking sometimes still that maybe if she were capable of faking her feelings toward Dutch, who’s to say she wasn’t faking her claimed feelings for you, too?

It would only make you all the more lonely, though Mary-Beth didn’t mind talking to you still, despite what had happened between the both of you, as well as Molly, a little too recently, now. You winced as you recalled the moment you felt everything collapse fully within you, before Molly had been eased away from you both by Arthur, all over again. You wondered if some might call the relationship a toxic one; you tried not to make it as such, but sometimes you couldn’t handle how it felt, whenever you had to see Molly and Dutch together again, as if she never even cared about what you both were to one another, in the first place, somehow.

You tried to push the thoughts away, but it grew excessively hard to do so, especially when you noted Dutch’s left arm around Molly, as he began to lead her away from Arthur and back toward their own tent again. You subconsciously scowled down at the ground, trying not to be petty, though you considered kicking at the dirt with the scuff of your right boot again. It would have been easier to distract yourself before, having Murphy - your still at large Friesian mare - still with you, and often eager to get your attention even when she should be getting some rest, herself, after an often long day of being out riding, when you couldn’t be bothered to:

1. Get shouted at by Miss Grimshaw,

2. And have to then see (or was it often the other way around?) the only person you’d ever truly felt anything for, getting eyed up and hogged often by another person who you couldn’t help, but despise, at this point in time.

You rolled your eyes, as soon as you heard the footfalls of a space invader walking toward you, though you felt a little more at ease, as soon as you heard that it was Arthur, and not one of the other group of men who you particularly despised round here, obviously excluding Charles, Uncle, and Kieran (they never tended to annoy you as much as the others seemed to do so, thus far, anyway).

“At least smile a little more, why don’t you?” Arthur began, and you sighed, before begrudgingly lifting your head fully to meet his gaze, though you really couldn’t find it within you to take much care or notice anything at all, right now.

“What did you want with Molly?” You asked, and he winced, though he tried to cover it up with a slightly - at least - unconvincing cough, not that it did much to distract you, anyway, from your true main concerns, haunting the very complex of your being, right now.

“Nothin’,” he answered vaguely, “I was just-.. checking on things, between you two-”

“And-?” You pried, and he sighed heavily, but you wouldn’t give in - not for anything. “Arthur-”

“People have been talking,” he stated simply, his expression a little more tight than it had been, before you’d got straight to the point, the way that you had, a brief moment ago, now, “y’all have got to be more careful, around here - what were you two even thinkin’, huh? Sneaking around so close to camp, like that?”

“You weren’t even here,” you reminded him sharply, before wincing yourself upon raising your voice a little bit too much more than you had been intending to, a brief moment ago, now, “who?” He appeared puzzled for a brief moment, furrowing his eyebrows as he tilted his head slightly over at you, again expectant of you to evaluate yourself further, all over again. You wondered if he was playing dumb, or if it was - rather - you, but you couldn’t tell, nor could you even be bothered to do so, rolling your eyes impatiently as you began to want to kick at the dirt again, somehow. “Who’s been talking about us, Arthur?” You pried, and he warily looked around again, before shaking his head gravely, as if it annoyed him to even be speaking of such names, the way he had to, now.

“Bill, and Micah,” he revealed begrudgingly, “Bill’s the more recent of the two, but-”

“Ah, Arthur, there you are!” Dutch’s voice sounded out again, and you couldn’t help, but grit your teeth for a brief moment, before forcing a smile in his direction as he nodded his head respectfully toward you, alongside his more rough-looking friend to the left of you, by now. “Have you heard from Micah and Lenny, at all? They’ve been out in Strawberry for a little while, now, and you know how I get with the two of them; especially our little Lenny - he’s still so young; I get worried, you see - you know I worry, don’t you, Arthur?” He insisted, as if he were trying to prove himself to the both of you, somehow.

“Sure, Dutch - sorry, Miss L/n; take care of yourself, alright? Now, Dutch, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the bonds-” He mused as he led the other away, you sighing gravely again as you leaned against one of the hitching posts, unintentionally having it be the one you tended to tie Murphy to, sometimes.

“I miss you, too, girl,” you mused in a little more of a strained manner, a pained expression on your face as the minutes ticked by slower than ever, at this point in time, you not sure where to even stand, anymore, in a world much too big for you, by now, especially now that the threat of execution could be even bigger, by now, if Bill and Micah’s suspicions got any further than they did, beyond the camp, as well as inside of it. If Dutch found out, well.. you knew you’d have to leave, sooner or later, anyway. You just didn’t think your half-departure would be down to anything else, the way it turned out to be, following the events of a painful acknowledgement, as well as the arrival of new dark day, now that you knew that things would probably never be able to be the same, the way that they were between you and Molly before, anyway.

~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed it, and are looking forward to the full version being released as much (or almost as much - wait for my evil laugh) as I am! I apologise for the wait, as well, in regard to how long it took me to finish up with this one!

I hope you all have a lovely rest of the day/night, and I look forward to seeing you again soon for the dropping of another of my haikus, tomorrow! Until then, I have been:

As always,

Your ever faithful, H.H. ❤️

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you…you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[moralesmilesanhour]

Since you gave me the go-head hiiii I have some advice (with examples) that MIGHT help with this...? Or it could just be really basic obvious stuff but can't hurt to try:

A: Framing/Language!

Okay so the first thing that will usually get your reader 'into a character's head' is how you word things. How does your character experience the world? How do they understand it? This should then color the language you use to describe stuff. A character who likes clowns vs a character who has PTSD because a clown broke into their home and murdered their friends...will not describe a clown the same way. Connotation matters especially !

B: Withholding Knowledge

What a character does and does not know will impact how your reader feels when they read a passage from their POV. Let's take an example from our favorite movie Across the Spiderverse:

Maybe this isn't the case for everyone, but when we're swinging through Mumbattan or watching Gwen greet everyone at HQ, it feels like I'm being almost overwhelmed with new information. We're clueless, and potentially frustrated because every time the other Spideys talk to each other it alludes to something that happened off-screen! That's because we're seeing the story unfold through Miles' POV. We feel constantly out of the loop cuz HE'S constantly out of the loop. And as a result we feel just as betrayed as he does when he finds out that his friends have been going behind his back and hiding things from him. Simple but effective.

I'm gonna be annoying and use one of my fics as an example bc it's easier to explain my thought process sjfjdkdk:

So here, we are obviously in Margo’s POV. We as the reader are probably aware that Miles is a nice guy, and she has nothing to worry about...but Margo isn't. She just met him, and has not had any positive experiences with love (romantic or otherwise) up to this point. She is also reluctant to reveal a lot about herself because she wants to leave her past behind and avoid people having any leverage over her by learning shit that she's tried to keep private. So, what happens when someone like Margo meets Miles, who doesn't seem to have any bad intentions, and lowers her inhibitions?

...He seems too good to be true, and a lot of the qualities that the audience would in another context find endearing now become suspect. Or at least that's how I hope it came across lol

Another rlly good example of this is Coriolanus Snow from the most recent Hunger Games book whose name I don't feel like typing out.

As readers we know that the Capitol is evil and that Snow is on the wrong side of history, but what he knows is that the rebels are directly responsible for his family (who is "supposed to be" well-off and comfortable) living in squalor. He also knows that a lot is riding on his ability to blend in with his wealthier classmates and prove that he belongs in the Capitol. We experience this through his eyes, so we feel his fear of being caught not conforming, his fear of being associated with the districts, and his anger towards the fact that he's been 'cheated' out of his status. All while understanding that he's also dead wrong!

This is done through zeroing in on little details and constantly analyzing what every character says to or about Coriolanus. He is always observing and overthinking and planning ahead because he feels like he has to in order to survive (this framing in the book is part of why I didn't love the movie adaptation but this is NAWT about that)

So yeah that's my little two cents I hope this is at all helpful 🫡

one thing id really like to do w my writing is getting the reader to think in the way the characters do rather than just observe and be like man that sucks! like immersion is so important to me i need you to be Sick like i was when i watched dear zachary