#i've talked about it before just. GOD. this passage

[bravevolunteer]

"why is michael desolation coded is it just the arson" NO. read this quote

[spdrvyn]

i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

[sallowsarchives]

Clash and Convergence

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Tensions are running high as you continue to grapple with your conflicting emotions. However, with another job thrusting you both back into close proximity, could this new development be the key to easing the tension and mending the rift between you once more? Word Count: 8.2k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, angst, gunfights, injury, canon-typical danger, dead bodies (nothing too graphic), not proofread!! A/N: Hey again! Alright so compared to the last chapter, I've taken some creative liberties and sort of deviated from the canon for this one, so I’m hoping this one turns out good. Also, no smut for this part but I promise it’s coming in the next chapter, which I hope to finish as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read on AO3

A few weeks had passed since that night, yet despite the passage of time, the unspoken tension between you and Arthur remained. 

In the first few days after the party, you withdrew into yourself, steering clear of the usual banter and small talk. You went about your tasks with mechanical precision, your movements efficient but devoid of the usual liveliness.

The memory of the events that occurred lingered in the back of your mind, casting a shadow over your usual routines. Your tried to bury those thoughts, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that kept your hands busy and your mind occupied.

Lately, the days had been filled with nothing but the usual activities—scouting for potential heists, tending to horses, helping with chores, and maintaining the camp.

Arthur was rarely at the camp, often off on some job Dutch had given him. Some days, you'd catch him heading to his horse early in the morning, riding out to God knows where and wouldn’t return for a few days. When he did, he'd usually arrive with freshly caught game or extra cash to contribute.

On the days he was gone, the camp felt a little quieter, a little less tense. His absences were a small blessing, giving you the space needed to collect your thoughts and maintain the fragile peace between you both. During those times, you could almost pretend that things were as they once were.

But on the days he was present, you both made a concerted effort to avoid each other. Conversations were brief and strained, and any interaction was kept to a bare minimum.

He often busied himself with tasks around the camp—chopping wood, organizing supplies, and carrying hay bales to the horses as if they weighed nothing.

When he wasn’t working, he’d sit by the campfire, engaging in small conversations with the others or scribbling in his journal. On some days, he’d spend the entirety of his time hidden away in his room.

You, on the other hand, would retreat to the outskirts of the camp until Miss Grimshaw scolded you, at which point you'd bury yourself in tasks of your own, your demeanor just as distant. 

You found solace in the routine of chores, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that allowed you to avoid any unnecessary interaction with Arthur. 

You missed the days when you'd head into town with the girls or accompany some of the men for small jobs where you’d use your nimble fingers to good use. Blending into the bustling crowds, you’d quietly lift wallets and purses from unsuspecting townsfolk, finding a strange satisfaction in the simplicity and thrill of the task. 

But lately, with the Pinkertons breathing down the gang's necks even more, there hadn’t been much in the way of work. The lack of action only heightened the tension, making the days drag on with a restless energy that seemed to seep into every part of your life.

Before long, the unease between you and Arthur became palpable to those around you. The camp was abuzz with quiet speculation, though the mood remained outwardly unaffected.

Conversations with the others were tinged with curiosity as they noticed the stark shift from the usual lively banter to the strained silence that now characterized your interactions. 

The frequent arguments and sharp exchanges had given way to a stifling quiet, and it didn’t take long for the gang members to sense that something was off between you two. The change in dynamic was unusual and unsettling, prompting whispered conversations and knowing glances among the camp.

One evening, as you were helping Pearson with the supplies, you overheard Javier and Bill talking by the fire. 

“Have you noticed how quiet it’s been without those two at each other’s throats?” Bill said, shaking his head.

Javier nodded, glancing discreetly over at you. “Yeah, it’s strange. Almost miss the excitement.”

Lenny and Karen, who had joined the group, shared their own takes. 

“It’s strange,” Lenny said. “I mean, they’d always bicker and fight, but there was some kind of spark to it. Now, it’s just… cold. A whole lot of nothin’.”

“You’d think they’d have worked it out after gettin’ the chance to spend time together. But it’s like whatever went down just left a permanent chill between ’em,” Karen added.

Pearson, catching the conversation, gave you a look but said nothing. You simply shrugged and continued with your task, trying to ignore the growing weight of the situation.

Though the camp had noticed the shift between the two of you, no one had really confronted you about it—except for one person. 

Hosea, ever the keen observer, had picked up on the change in demeanor from you and Arthur during the ride back after the party. 

That night, as soon as you arrived at camp, you dismounted the coach before anyone even had a chance to offer a greeting and headed straight into the house without a word. 

The usual warmth of the campfire and the lively chatter that greeted the return of its members felt distant and muted to you, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions churning inside. 

Arthur had watched you storm off with a mix of frustration and concern, feeling a pang of guilt but too wrapped up in his own stubborn pride to approach you. His internal conflict was evident, as he struggled with his own emotions while grappling with the distance growing between you both. 

The weight of his own pride and the fear of further complicating things kept him from reaching out. He knew he was part of the issue, yet he couldn’t bring himself to make things right, leaving him brooding by the fire long after you had disappeared into the house.

Hosea didn’t miss the tension in the air as you left abruptly or the way Arthur’s mood had darkened. He watched Arthur’s restless movements, the firelight dancing over his face and revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability and frustration. The usual calm and quiet confidence Arthur exuded was replaced by visible agitation, a stark contrast to the man Hosea had come to know.

At first, Hosea hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was just another round of the aftermath from the usual quips and disagreements between you and Arthur. But as weeks went by and the tension persisted, he began to sense that something deeper was at play.

Fast forward to now, as you were engrossed in cleaning a rifle— which Hosea had actually gifted you after witnessing your impressive marksmanship on a hunt you had accompanied him on—you caught sight of him approaching out of the corner of your eye. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked gently, settling himself on a nearby log. His tone was casual but his eyes held a deep concern. "I've been meaning to check in, see how you're doin' after the party."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without betraying the turmoil inside. Hosea sat down beside you, watching as you continued to clean the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your hands almost mechanical.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice soft and careful. "I, uh, noticed you’ve seemed a bit... off since that night. You've been keepin' to yourself more, and there's not as much of that fiery spirit you usually show. I don't mean to pry, but, well, I reckon somethin' happened, didn't it?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes, only an open, sympathetic understanding. Sighing, you tried to find the right words. 

“Arthur and I just had a… disagreement. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“Disagreements are one thing, but this feels different,” Hosea said, his voice carrying a hint of concern. “I’ve seen you two go at it before, but there’s a coldness now that wasn’t there before. Something’s weighing heavy on both of you. You want to talk about it?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Hosea. Just a rough patch, like always.”

Hosea’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push further. 

“Alright. Just don’t let it fester. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, giving him a tight smile. “Thanks, Hosea. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Just need to keep busy.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your cleaning a soothing distraction from the thoughts clouding your mind. Hosea left you to your task, though his concerned gaze lingered a moment longer before he walked away, leaving you with your uneasy thoughts.

You knew his concern was genuine, but you were determined to keep things at a distance and focus on moving forward, despite the emotional undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, letting the familiarity of the rifle and the routine of your task provide a semblance of control amid the chaos of your feelings.

Later that evening, as the campfire crackled and cast flickering shadows around the camp, you sat with Abigail, the two of you enjoying a rare moment of light conversation.

The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the chill in the night air, and Javier’s gentle guitar strumming in the background added a soothing ambiance to the evening, offering a brief respite from the weight of your thoughts.

As you and Abigail chatted, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, the quiet rustling of footsteps and the gentle clearing of a throat drew your attention. Turning around, you saw Arthur standing there, his expression guarded yet earnest.

Arthur had arrived at camp some time in the afternoon, his presence marked by the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves and the clink of his spurs as he carried in another fresh load of game. His arrival had been met with the usual nods and grunts of acknowledgment, but he had kept to himself since then.

Arthur’s presence seemed to amplify the quiet of the evening, his stance betraying an unease that matched the tension between you two. The firelight cast shifting shadows on his face, revealing the weariness and frustration etched into his features. 

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Uh, Dutch needs to talk to us both.”

Arthur shifted his weight, his gaze flickering to the side before meeting yours again. “He uh… said he wanted to talk to us about something,” he added, his tone attempting to be casual but betraying a hint of the underlying strain.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself against the rising unease about what Dutch might need to discuss. Abigail, noticing the awkwardness in Arthur’s demeanor, chose not to comment. Instead, she offered a sympathetic smile and stood up, her gesture a small comfort in the tense moment.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she said softly, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat before heading off to give you and Arthur some space.

As you watched her walk away, you felt a brief flicker of gratitude for her understanding. You turned back to Arthur, who was still standing silently, his gaze shifting uncomfortably, before making your way towards Dutch’s quarters. 

Arthur’s footsteps were heavy behind you, his usual easy stride replaced by a more deliberate, uncertain pace. He cleared his throat, as if to break the silence, but no words came.

The crackling of the campfire and the soft murmur of distant conversations slowly faded, leaving only the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking under your steps as you both made your way inside the house and up the stairs.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing louder than you expected. After a moment, Dutch’s voice called out from inside, inviting you both in. With a deep breath, you turned the handle and stepped into the room, ready to face whatever Dutch had to say.

Upon entering, you found Dutch and Hosea on the terrace, engaged in a low conversation. The evening light cast a warm glow over them, adding a sense of calm to the otherwise tense atmosphere. Dutch looked up as you approached, a smile etching onto his face.

"Ah, there you are, come on out, we’ve got some things to discuss."

Hosea gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his expression one of quiet understanding. 

Dutch gestured for you and Arthur to join them at a small table set up with a few maps. 

“I wanted to go over a few things with you both,” Dutch said, his tone casual but authoritative. “Hosea and I have been discussin’ a plan, might just be what we need to get away from here and finally throw the Pinkertons off our scent for good.”

Hosea turned to you, adding to Dutch’s explanation. “There’s another job, particularly concerning the stagecoach details you picked up from the party, actually. You know, the one rumored to be packed with jewels and cash. We’ve gotten word that it’ll be rollin’ through just north of Lemoyne, somewhere in New Hanover, tomorrow.”

You felt a jolt of realization as Hosea’s words hit you. The mention of the stagecoach, packed with jewels and cash, immediately brought back the details you’d nearly forgotten in the whirlwind of recent events. 

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information you’d gathered during the party. This was the opportunity that could turn everything around, but it also meant diving right back into the chaos. You could sense the weight of the mission ahead, the stakes higher than ever.

You nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of the situation. “Alright, so what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Hosea glanced at Dutch, who took over the explanation. “We’ve got a basic outline. We reckon the stagecoach will be guarded, so you’ll need to stay sharp. Essentially, your task is to take out the guards and haul that coach right back here for safekeeping,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map.

Arthur leaned in, his expression serious. “Sounds like a plan. Who else is comin’ with us?”

Dutch and Hosea exchanged a glance, then Dutch answered, “It’ll just be the two of you. We’re countin’ on you to get it done.”

You blinked, eyes widening as you begin to feel a surge of frustration. “Wait, what? You can’t be serious,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, his unease becoming more evident. “Just the two of us?” he repeated, trying to mask his discomfort with a gruff tone. He looked between Dutch and Hosea, clearly taken aback by the lack of backup.

Dutch looked momentarily taken aback by your reactions, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s the problem?” he asked, clearly oblivious to the underlying tension between you and Arthur. “I figured you two would be the best for this. It’s a straightforward job. I know you can handle it. You seemed to do fine back at the mayor's party.”

Arthur fidgeted with his hat, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at you, his face showing a mix of frustration and reluctance.

Hosea, sensing the growing discomfort and understanding the gravity of the situation, stepped in. “Since you were the one who uncovered the details about the stagecoach,” he said, addressing you directly, “We figured you’d lead this one. You know the specifics and what to expect. Arthur here is our best bet to go with you, handle any trouble, and watch your back while you’re at it.”

“And besides,” Hosea continued, his tone softening, “I know you’ve been itching to get out of camp and put your skills to use. This job could be a good chance for you to get out of the camp for a bit and do something you’ve been craving.”

Oh you had been hoping for a change of scenery, but not the kind that would throw you right back into close quarters with Arthur. 

This is just fantastic… Just what you needed, no? You couldn’t make this up if you tried. Here you were, thinking you’d get a breather from the endless tension, only to find yourself on a direct collision course with it. Really, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor.

Arthur’s dry laugh cut through your thoughts, and you glanced at him, noting the mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. Yeah, he’s probably thinking the same thing. Didn’t expect this to come with a side of enforced teamwork. We’ve barely been able to keep it together when we're in camp. Now we’re supposed to be a seamless duo out there?

Before you or Arthur could voice any further objections, Dutch cuts in with a firm tone. “It’s settled. You two will handle this job together, and that’s final. No more complaints or arguments.”

The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation. 

Arthur let out a deep frustrated sigh. “Well, ain’t this just perfect,” he grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You shot him a resigned glance, both of you silently acknowledging the irony of the situation.

“Now you two get some rest tonight, and we’ll go over the details tomorrow. I trust you two will make it work.”

With that, Dutch gave a nod, signaling the end of the discussion.

As you were about to leave, Hosea approached you and Arthur with a gentle demeanor, clearly aware of the tension between you two. 

“I know it’s not ideal, especially with how things have been between you two,” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “But you’re both capable. I have faith that you’ll handle this just fine.”

Arthur shot Hosea a skeptical glance but nodded in acknowledgment, his gruff exterior softening slightly. “We’ll do what we can,” he muttered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You managed a tight smile, appreciating Hosea’s attempt to offer reassurance despite the circumstances. “Yeah, I suppose we’ll give it our best shot.”

Hosea nodded approvingly and patted Arthur on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now, try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

With that, Hosea gave you both a warm, encouraging smile before stepping back, leaving you and Arthur to face the uncomfortable reality of the task ahead.

The promise of the job loomed large, and the need to navigate both the heist and your fraught relationship now seemed inescapable.

The silence stretched, awkward and thick as the both of you grappled with the weight of the situation in your own way, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a heavy fog. You could almost feel the gears in Arthur’s mind turning, his usual confidence replaced by a reluctant resignation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. His voice was low, tinged with hesitation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly ideal. We’ve had our share of run-ins, and I’m not expecting us to suddenly be friends or anything. But, for what it’s worth, I’ll do my part to make sure this job goes smoothly.”

You studied Arthur for a moment, taking in the sincerity behind his words. Despite the tension, there was something begrudgingly reassuring in his willingness to make the best of the situation. You sighed, trying to keep your tone neutral but not entirely devoid of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, well, I’m not expecting us to be the best of friends either,” you replied, forcing a small, wry smile. “But I appreciate the effort. We’ll both just have to keep our heads in the game and get this done. For now, let’s try to focus on the job and not let our… differences get in the way.”

Arthur gave a short nod, the lines of tension on his face momentarily easing. “Fair enough.”

There was an awkward pause, the silence stretching out between you. Arthur finally cleared his throat, his eyes flickering towards you. “Look, about what happened—”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “We don’t need to rehash it. Let’s just focus on this job so we can continue with our ways.”

The last thing you wanted was to dredge up the emotions and pain that had been bubbling beneath the surface. Revisiting the topic felt like opening an old wound that had yet to heal, and you weren’t ready to face that vulnerability all over again. 

Arthur’s expression shifted, a mix of resignation and understanding passing over his face. “Alright,” he said, his tone flat. “We’ll do that.”

With that, you give him a nod before turning heel and walking away downstairs, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet. 

Arthur watched you go before heading to his room, the weight of the conversation and unresolved issues hanging heavy on his mind.

As you settled into your sleeping roll, the familiar comfort of the bedding did little to ease the turmoil inside you. The day's events, combined with the strained interaction with Arthur, made it difficult to quiet your racing thoughts. 

Despite the brief truce, the underlying tension between you and Arthur was far from resolved.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the sunlight filtering through the cracked windows. The sky outside was painted in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the sprawling estate of Shady Belle. 

You woke with a start, the unease of the previous night still heavy in your mind. The camp was already bustling with activity as the early risers went about their morning routines, preparing for the day ahead.

You and Arthur had gotten up early, each in your own way preparing for the job that lay ahead. The conversation this morning with Dutch and Hosea had been brief, focusing mainly on the specifics of the job and the logistics of the route. The details were clear, and the plan was set.

With that in mind, you were left to prepare for the task ahead. Preparing your saddle bag, you set about stashing away the essentials: ammunition, a spare set of clothes, and other provisions.

You grabbed your rifle, carefully checking it for any issues before securing it onto your horse, running a final check on your gear and making sure everything was in order.

The horse you were saddling stood patiently, its calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing in your mind. As you adjusted the saddle and tightened the straps, you tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside thoughts of the upcoming journey and the inevitable interactions with Arthur.

Arthur was nearby, working on his own preparations. Though there was no direct conversation between you, the occasional glance or nod indicated a mutual understanding of the importance of the task at hand.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the unspoken words and unresolved feelings between you. The air was thick with the weight of the unaddressed issues, but you both knew that there was no room for sentiment right now.

You let out a sigh before mounting your horse. The two of you had a job to do, and despite the personal issues that loomed, you had to find a way to make it work. This job had to go smoothly, and you needed to focus on that, no matter how difficult this job was already proving to be.

Arthur gave a brief nod, acknowledging your resolve, and mounted his own horse. With a final deep breath, you spurred your horse into motion. 

Arthur fell into line beside you, and together, you set out on the journey ahead.

The road stretched out before you, winding through the dense forests and swamps. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm light over the landscape. 

The journey had been relatively uneventful so far, a few scattered encounters with travelers and the occasional wildlife breaking the monotony.

You and Arthur rode side by side, the silence between you still thick and uncomfortable. You focused on the landscape around you, the dense trees and winding paths offering a certain level of tranquility.

Arthur, for his part, appeared deep in thought. He occasionally glanced over at you, but the eye contact was fleeting.

His usual confident demeanor was replaced with a quiet determination, and the silence spoke volumes of the discomfort that lingered.

You had both briefly reviewed the details of the job, and the execution was expected to be straightforward. The plan was simple enough: intercept the stagecoach, secure the loot, and make a swift escape with the coach to a hiding place somewhere near camp. 

After a beat, Arthur finally broke the silence. 

“You ready for this?” 

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road ahead.

“Yeah, just like any other job, right?” you replied, keeping your tone steady, though the edge in your voice was unmistakable.

Arthur sighed, clearly sensing the strain in your words. “Look, I know things ain’t been... easy between us. But we gotta get through this.”

You glanced over at him, your expression hardening. 

“I know that, Arthur. I’m not gonna let whatever’s between us mess up the job. I’ve got a job to do, and so do you. I intend to see it through without letting personal grudges get in the way.”

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and resignation. “Yeah, I know you will. Just... stay close, alright? We need to be on the same page.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Understood. Let’s just get this done.” 

The tension lingered, but for now, it was buried under the urgency of the job.

The terrain shifted subtly, the once marshy ground giving way to the rich, green embrace of dense forests, rolling hills, and steep mountains. 

The road followed a river that wound alongside you, its surface catching the overcast sky’s light in a subdued, shimmering dance. The rhythmic flow of the water provided a gentle counterpoint to the tension between you and Arthur, a quiet reminder of the natural beauty surrounding your uneasy journey.

Arthur’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his focus unyielding. He kept his gaze sharp, scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Despite the coldness between you, you couldn’t help but notice the way he took his job seriously, his focus unwavering. 

His attention to detail was evident as he navigated the terrain, maneuvering his horse with practiced ease. Each time he glanced over at you, his eyes were a mix of concentration and something softer.

Eventually, you reached a vantage point overlooking the road where the stagecoach was expected to pass. You dismount your horse, feeling the weight of the upcoming task settle heavily on your shoulders. Arthur followed suit, his expression serious as he joined you.

"So, how do you wanna do this? You take the front, and I cover the back?" Arthur's tone was practical, but there was a hint of something less guarded in his voice.

A smile unexpectedly crept up on your lips, a rare break from the seriousness that had defined your recent interactions, as you thought of how you approached these jobs with a different flair when you were with the girls.

Arthur glanced over, his expression guarded but curious. You continued, “Or I could play the helpless lady who needs help while you sneak up on ‘em?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a small, begrudging smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, so you’re thinkin’ of dustin’ off the old act, huh? Think you still got it?”

You raised an eyebrow, the tension easing just a bit as a genuine smile tugged at your lips.  “Oh, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. But you better keep up if you’re gonna be my backup.”

Arthur nodded, his smile widening slightly. “You got it.”

You checked your gear, slinging your rifle securely behind you. Arthur did the same, both of you falling into the familiar routine of preparation.

As you moved into position, the earlier unease shifted into focused, purposeful energy. 

The playful banter had served its purpose, bringing a brief moment of levity to the serious task ahead. Now, with the weight of the mission on your shoulders, you prepared for the role you’d play and the action to come.

“You think this’ll work?” you ask, your voice tinged with both curiosity and apprehension.

Arthur glances up at you as you both make your way slightly further down the hill. 

“It’s our best shot. We’ll need to time it right. ‘Sides, we’ve got the element of surprise on our side.”

You nod as you stop just before the road, positioning yourselves behind the trees and thick bushes, your eyes scanning the road for any sign of the stagecoach.

The sun was at an angle indicating that sunset was within an hour or two, casting long shadows that merged with the undergrowth, providing natural cover. The sound of the flowing river in the distance had faded into the background as you both waited in tense silence. 

Then, amidst the quiet, you both heard it—a distant rumble growing louder. The roll of the coach’s wheels crunching over the road, steadily approaching. 

You exchanged a sharp glance with Arthur, the anticipation spiking as you prepared for the imminent arrival of your target.

Peeking over the edge of your hiding spot, you counted around five guards stationed around the stagecoach, each one mounted on horseback with rifles gripped tightly in their hands. They occasionally glanced at each other, their movements synchronized but relaxed, their attention more on the road ahead than on the dense cover flanking either side—rookie mistake.

The impending arrival of your target presented a perfect opportunity. Their lack of vigilance provided a window to implement your plan.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you signal to Arthur with a subtle nod, your heart racing as the time to act approaches.

You step out from behind the tree and move to a position where the road curves, creating the illusion of a stranded traveler in need of assistance. 

As you raise a hand to signal distress, you adjust your expression to one of genuine concern before you stumble forward, making sure to catch sight of the approaching vehicle, your movements exaggerated for effect. 

The guards notice your presence immediately, their posture becoming tense as they exchange wary glances. The coach begins to slow, and one of the guards shouts over.

“Hold up! What’s the matter?” His voice carries a mix of suspicion and urgency as he strains to see what’s going on.

That’s your cue. You force a shaky voice as you call out, “Help! My horse threw a shoe, and I’m stranded here! Please, I need assistance!”

You stagger slightly, clutching your arm as if in pain, and glance anxiously towards the coach. The guards’ expressions shift from suspicion to concern as they assess the situation. 

They exchange a few quick words, and one of them starts to dismount, moving towards you with a wary but reluctant gait.

Concealed by the trees, Arthur remains hidden, his sharp eyes locked on the scene. He watches as the guard approaches, waiting for the precise moment to make his move. Your heart races as you maintain your act, trying to keep your expression a mix of fear and gratitude.

As the guard comes closer, his eyes seem to fixate on something behind your back and his expression shifts to alarm, his hand moving instinctively towards his weapon.

“Hold on a minute,” he calls out, voice now laced with suspicion. The tone of his voice immediately alerts the other guards, who begin to look more closely at the situation. “What’s that on your back?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow as he notices the shift in the guards' demeanor. His movements are fluid and calculated as he positions himself strategically, drawing his rifle with practiced precision. He takes a deep breath and steadies his aim, preparing to act at a moment’s notice.

You freeze, trying to keep your expression composed despite the sudden shift. Your heart skips a beat, and you shoot a quick glance toward Arthur, who’s watching intently from his hidden spot.

The guard takes another cautious step closer, his gaze fixed on your rifle. “Seems a bit odd for someone stranded to be carrying a rifle, don’t ya think?”

As steady as you can manage, you respond, “I— I just needed it for protection. I didn’t expect trouble.” 

You can feel the weight of his scrutiny, and you silently pray that your composed demeanor is enough to keep suspicion at bay.

As the guard’s suspicion grows, he signals to the other guards, who start to move in closer, their hands gripping their weapons with increased wariness. 

The tension thickens, palpable in the tightening of their grips and the narrowing of their eyes. You can almost see the wheels turning in their heads, questioning the authenticity of your situation.

Arthur’s eyes narrow, realizing that the plan might be in jeopardy. His fingers tighten around the handle of his own rifle, ready to act. 

The guards' wary movements signal that they're about to take a closer look at you, their caution evident in their deliberate steps. You catch Arthur's eye, and he gives a barely perceptible nod—a clear signal that the time to act is now, before the guards get any closer or the situation escalates further.

With a deep breath, you prepare yourself, knowing that the success of the job now hinges on a delicate balance between deception and action.

As the guard steps closer, his suspicion hardening into action, the tension snaps like a taut wire. The moment he raises his hand to signal the other guards to move in, the situation escalates rapidly.

The air fills with the sudden sharp crack of gunfire as Arthur’s rifle erupts from the trees. His shots ring true, striking one of the guards and sending him crashing to the ground. The remaining men, caught off guard, scramble for cover as the shootout begins in earnest.

You draw your own rifle, aiming at the nearest one as you move quickly to the side, seeking cover behind a large rock. 

Your shots are quick and precise, the loud reports of your gun blending into the chaotic symphony of the firefight. The guards on horseback begin to return fire, their rifles barking in rapid succession.

Amid the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Arthur, moving with practiced precision. He’s taking them down with controlled bursts of fire, his movements fluid and efficient. He’s clearly in his element, but even so, his eyes occasionally flicker toward you, ensuring you’re holding your own.

The stagecoach driver, realizing the situation has gone terribly wrong, frantically tries to maneuver the vehicle away from the danger. His hands tremble as he struggles to keep the frantic horses under control.

One of the guards, attempting to flank you, takes a well-aimed shot, forcing you to duck behind your cover. You peer out, seeing Arthur’s form in the distance as he intercepts the guard, eliminating the threat with a single, decisive shot.

As the last of the guards fall, the chaos begins to wane. The sound of gunfire now replaced by the restless snorting of the horses. 

You scan the area, assessing the situation, and your heart starts to slow as you see the immediate threat has been dealt with.

Arthur, breathing heavily from the exertion, emerges from his cover, his eyes scanning the scene for any remaining danger. He gives you a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning to secure the stagecoach. 

You emerge from your cover and make a beeline for the stagecoach, reaching the vehicle just as Arthur approaches it, his face a mask of focused intensity. 

The driver has managed to bring the horses to a halt. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur nudges the man with a sharp flick of his rifle. Clearly intimidated by Arthur’s commanding presence, he scrambles off the seat and retreats into the road with a frantic pace.

With the situation now under control, you watch as Arthur focuses on calming the restless horses. He approaches them carefully, his voice a soothing murmur that cuts through the chaos. The horses’ breathing begins to slow, their agitation easing under his calm presence.

You take a moment to catch your breath and collect yourself, observing Arthur’s handling of the situation. His actions are steady and confident, and you can see the familiar ease with which he interacts with the animals. It’s a side of him that, despite everything, has managed to impress you.

Catching the subtle shift in your expression, he glances over at you. His gaze lingering for a moment. For a brief instant, his own hardened expression softens, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a small, almost self-satisfied smile. 

You blink, momentarily flustered. You hadn’t realized how much you were letting your guard down, caught off-guard by the warmth in his eyes and the easy way he spoke. 

The sight is fleeting but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the shared success and a momentary easing of the tension that had previously clouded your interactions.

You attempt to steady your voice, but it comes out softer than intended. “Come on, let’s check if this thing has exactly what they said.”

Arthur gives a nod, his focus shifting to the task at hand as you both move to inspect the stagecoach. 

As you open the coach's doors, the sight inside is nothing short of astonishing.

Chests, small pouches, lockboxes, and crates are crammed into the coach, each one overflowing with a dazzling array of jewels and cash. Arthur’s eyes widen as he takes in the sheer volume of riches. 

Seeing the score, the weight of the day's hostility seems to have dissolved, replaced by a palpable sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Arthur whistles, clearly impressed. “Damn, we hit the mother lode, this is more than I ever expected.”

You nod, grabbing a small bag to carefully assess the loot. This one was filled with sparkling rings and ornate necklaces. The sight is overwhelming, and the weight of the haul is tangible even before you touch it.

Beside you, Arthur takes to opening a lockbox with his hunting knife. The contents inside reveal neatly stacked bundles of cash. 

“This is a hell of a find,” he says with a hint of admiration in his voice. “Dutch is gonna be thrilled.”

“This is more than enough for the gang,” you comment, carefully handling each piece. “Who in their right mind would only send five guards to accompany this?”

“Seems like they were a bit too confident in their security. Their loss is our gain, though.”

“Let’s get this sorted and packed up. We need to move quick before anyone starts sniffing around.”

You whistle for your horse and begin stashing a few bundles of cash and select pieces of jewelry into the saddlebag. Arthur mirrors your actions, moving with deliberate speed as he fills his satchel with a mix of valuable items from the coach.

You and Arthur quickly secure the remaining loot and prepare the stagecoach for its journey before he climbs up to the driver’s seat, taking the reins with a firm grip.

“Let’s get this thing moving,” he says, his voice low but determined.

You nod, taking your place beside him whistling to your horses once more, signaling them to follow. The stagecoach lurches forward as Arthur cracks the reins, guiding the horses into a steady trot. 

With the weight of the haul securely packed and the adrenaline of the heist gradually fading, a sense of accomplishment settles in. The tense moments of the plan's execution now give way to the satisfaction of a job well done.

Arthur glances over at you, a trace of a smile lingering on his lips. “Good work back there. Reckon we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You catch his gaze and, despite yourself, feel a flicker of warmth. “Yeah, just don’t get used to it.”

Arthur chuckles softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Half an hour in, you continue your journey to the agreed location with the fruits of your labor securely in tow.

The adrenaline from the earlier confrontation has faded, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and relief. The surroundings have returned to their tranquil state, the earlier chaos now a distant memory as you and Arthur ride side by side, the silence between you now more comfortable and less charged than before.

With the sun setting, you keep a vigilant eye on the surroundings, focusing on the road and surrounding area ahead for any signs of trouble. 

Suddenly, the faint sound of galloping hooves slices through the calm, growing abruptly louder. The rhythmic pounding signifies an approaching group, and the urgency in their pace suggests they might be heading straight for you.

You glance over at Arthur, noticing his instant shift in posture, his hands tightening slightly on the reigns. 

Following the sound, you look behind and see a horde of riders emerging from the tree line, their horses kicking up clouds of dust as they charge forward. The group is sizable, and their intent is clear—they’re coming fast and with purpose.

Arthur’s jaw clenches as he takes in the approaching threat. He adjusts his grip on the reins, his frustration evident but his focus unwavering. “Damn it,” he growls. “We can’t outrun ‘em with this load.”

With resolve, you kneel a leg on the seat, bracing yourself against the coach roof for stability. Your expression is determined as you aim your rifle at the approaching riders. 

“You just keep those horses running. I’ll handle the welcoming committee,” you call out to Arthur, your voice steady. Arthur glances over, a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the urgency, before his gaze sharpens back on the road. 

The coach surges ahead, the horses racing faster as Arthur skillfully maneuvers them away from the oncoming threat. The clash of gunfire and the thunderous pounding of hooves create a frenzied soundtrack to the chaos unfolding.

The vehicle sways with the sudden bursts and you brace yourself, focusing on keeping your aim steady amidst the chaotic barrage.

Bullets ricochet off the ground near the coach, their danger unmistakable. You grit your teeth, cursing under your breath as you see both your and Arthur’s horses veering sharply to another direction to evade the attackers, separating them from you.

From beside you, Arthur's curse breaks through the chaos. You glance over to see the road ahead sharply climbing, winding up the mountain with a steep incline.

The horses strain against the uneven terrain, their hooves scrambling for traction as the coach teeters perilously, the situation now becoming more complicated, with the treacherous path adding another layer of danger to the already tense escape.

You turn to see Arthur’s face set in grim determination, his focus entirely on the road. His efforts to control the coach are apparent as he wrestles for control, fighting against the treacherous surface.

“Dammit!” Arthur growls, his knuckles white as he grips the reins tightly. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a getaway route!”

The incline grows steeper, and the coach struggles to gain traction.

You return your gaze to the unmistakable sound of more guards closing in, aiming steadily at those who are getting too close for comfort.

Their pursuit is relentless, and the weight of the situation becomes increasingly apparent. Each shot you fire feels like a desperate attempt to stave off the growing threat, as the gap between you and the pursuing riders narrows with every passing moment.

“They’re gaining on us!” you shout over the cacophony of gunfire and the rumbling coach. “There’s too many of them. We have to leave the coach!”

The sound of men shouting and the sharp crack of gunfire splintering the wood of the coach fills the air, heightening the chaos. The horses, already on edge, begin to panic, their frantic movements causing the coach to lurch.

The coach tilts precariously toward the edge of the mountain, and for a moment, you feel yourself tipping dangerously close to the edge of your seat. Rocks tumble down the steep incline as the coach seems on the verge of tipping over completely.

In a split second, Arthur’s arm shoots out, grabbing you firmly by the waist and pulling you back into place while still maintaining control of the reins. The coach rights itself with a jolt, the wheels crunching heavily on the loose gravel as it stabilizes. The sudden movement pulls you both back from the brink, but the threat of the approaching guards remains ever-present.

“You alright?” he calls out, his voice edged with worry amidst the chaos, his hand still wrapped around your waist as you cling to him for stability.

You nod quickly, forcing a shaky nod. “I’m good… Just keep this thing steady.”

Arthur’s hand slips away as he refocuses on guiding the coach.

You lean back, gripping onto the seat with both hands to brace yourself against the relentless jostling. 

You can feel the coach shudder under the strain of the terrain and the impact of the guards’ gunfire. The unstable footing and the increasing danger make it clear that staying in the coach is no longer an option.

Realizing there's no way back, you scan the surroundings desperately for an escape route. Ahead, on a flatter section of the mountain, your eyes land on a bridge spanning a rushing river below. It’s a precarious-looking structure, but it might be your only chance.

“Arthur! That bridge up ahead!”

Arthur’s eyes dart to the bridge, and he curses under his breath. 

"That thing looks like it's barely hangin' on," he mutters, a worried frown on his face. 

The two of you exchange a worried glance, the urgency of the situation clear. With no other options and the guards closing in, the risk of crossing the unstable bridge might be your only chance at escape.

Arthur takes a deep breath, his expression set with determination. 

He grips the reins tighter and steers the coach toward the bridge, maneuvering through the challenging terrain. 

The stagecoach lurches and tilts dangerously as it approaches the bridge, the horses straining against their ropes. Every bump and sway sends a jolt through the coach, and the bridge creaks ominously under the pressure of the approaching load.

The guards’ shouts grow louder, their pursuit relentless, adding to the mounting pressure.

Arthur's knuckles whiten as he clenches the reins, his eyes locked on the rickety structure ahead. “Hang on!” 

The wheels hit the first few planks with a jarring thud, the structure shuddering violently while you brace yourself against the seat, gripping it tightly. The bridge sways and creaks under the strain, the narrow path making it clear that any wrong move could spell disaster.

The wooden planks of the bridge groan in protest, threatening to buckle under the weight. You can see the river below churning violently, a reminder of the precarious situation. 

As you and Arthur drive the stagecoach across the rickety bridge, the relentless pursuit of the guards continues. Gunfire cracks through the air, and the panicked horses struggle to keep their footing on the unstable wooden planks.

“Arthur, watch out!” you shout, gripping the edge of the coach seat tightly.

Arthur's eyes dart to the side, spotting the weak planks giving way under the weight and stress of the coach. The bridge shudders violently, and a loud cracking sound echoes through.

Without warning, the bridge gives way entirely. The horses scream in terror as the entire stagecoach plunges into the rushing river below. 

The world blurs around you as you're thrown from the driver’s seat, hitting the icy river with a jarring impact.

Cold water engulfs you instantly, and the current's force pulls you under, dragging you downstream. As you struggle to stay afloat, you catch fleeting glimpses of the stagecoach being smashed to pieces against the rocks and debris.

The river’s powerful current quickly separates you and Arthur, each of you fighting to keep afloat. Your heart races, and every instinct urges you to fight the current. The roar of the river overwhelms your senses, making it difficult to think clearly. You reach out, trying to find something solid to grab onto, while the chaos of the river makes every movement a battle.

"Hold on!" Arthur's voice, hoarse with effort, barely reaches you over the roar of the river, eyes widening in alarm as he sees you being dragged away by the current.

"Arthur!" you scream back, your voice filled with panic as the water pulls you under again. 

You fight to surface, gasping for air, the relentless force of the river carrying you further away. The rush of water roars in your ears, drowning out any other sound, and your vision blurs with each desperate attempt to find your footing.

In the chaos, the water pulls you under once more. As you struggle against the current, a sharp pain explodes in your head. The impact sends you spinning, and the world around you blurs into a dizzying haze. Each breath is a struggle, the cold water overwhelming your senses as you fight to stay conscious.

The agony in your head intensifies, and the cold, relentless river drags you further from the surface. The muffled, distant sound of Arthur’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear before darkness engulfs you.

A/N: Alright so not much going on between the two this chapter, hopefully everything is resolved in the next. Stay tuned for the next one which is the final part!

[mcflymemes]

"... WHERE ARE WE?" PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

what is this place, anyway?

why did you bring me here?

this is it? this is what you've been talking about this whole time?

i'm not sure where we are.

do you have any idea where this is?

does anything look familiar to you?

i could have sworn we came this way.

we've been walking in circles.

should we split up or keep moving?

do you have any idea where we are?

this isn't good. this doesn't look familiar.

that's the third time we've passed that tree.

bit dark in here, isn't it?

are you sure you know where we're going?

what did i just step into?

should we press on?

i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore.

i thought you said you knew where to go.

where are you taking me?

if we just sit right here and wait, someone will come looking for us.

have you ever been here before?

you seem familiar with this place.

i don't recognize anything.

i knew we made a wrong turn back there.

you've been leading us in circles.

this isn't my street.

that house doesn't look familiar.

do you have a map?

we're already lost. i'm not planning on getting even more lost.

maybe we should ask for directions.

i don't think we should have come here.

my phone's dead. do you have service?

we could try retracing our steps.

could you help me try and figure out where we are?

oh my god. we're going to die out here.

quick! look for familiar landmarks.

i've never been here before.

oh no. i'm staying right here and waiting for help.

is this the place you've been talking about?

so... where is here?

of course. just my luck. i get lost with you of all people.

how much longer do we have to walk?

are we almost there?

you couldn't find your way out of a paper bag.

you should have trusted me with the directions.

this seems like some kind of underground passage.

where does this door lead to?

we've been walking for hours.

oh great. we're lost.

i'll see if i can get a good view from up there.

i don't think we should be here.

maybe we could try calling for help.

i don't want us to get separated out here.

it'll get dark soon.

we're going to die out here, aren't we.

i'll just sit here and wait for my impending doom.

the last thing i wanted to do was get lost with you.

is that your way of helping us find our way out of here? because it's not working.

[mrsshabana]

honestly i need a story time about the cult? also the link to that podcast, im intrigued now lol

𝐌𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭

Ok children gather around. It's story time 🤓

Note: Now I won't provide a link because I talk about a lot of personal stuff including my name and location, and I don't want so many people having access to that. But I don't mind telling my story here.

Content warning: Mentions of religious trauma and eating disorders

Ok, so let me set the scene. I was 18 and moved out of my parents' house. I lived in a ghetto apartment near my university where I was studying art.

Now when I moved out my parents stopped talking to me. So I really felt alone, I had no family, no friends, and I was in a new place so I was very desperate to have a connection with someone. So really I was the perfect victim for a cult because I was vulnerable.

One day I was walking out of the mathematics building when a student stopped me and asked me if I would like to read the bible with her. She was a Korean international student and she was really nice so I was like sure why not. Now at this point, I wasn't super religious but I did consider myself a Christian. But I never knew the bible very well and my family was the kind of family that only went to church on easter and Christmas.

So anyway, I read the bible with her and she explained it to me. The way she explained the passage was insinuating that there was a female version of god. That was something I had never heard of before but it was interesting to me so I decided to come with her to her bible study.

Long story short it ended up being this organization called "The World Mission Society Church of God." I went to their church and spent hours with them every Wednesday and Saturday because they made me feel accepted. They welcomed me and became like my family which I didn't have at the time.

Something I really loved about them was that their church was so diverse. There were so many different kinds of people there, I really felt welcome. Because growing up churches seemed so segregated. I'm biracial, my mom is white and my dad is black so growing up we either went to the white church or the black church. And at both I felt like people would stare at me and my family and that I wasn't welcome there.

So it felt really nice to have such a diverse church where I felt truly welcomed. Anyway, I ended up making a lot of friends there and I stayed with them for about 6 months. Then I figured out they were actually a cult. It's a long story but I won't go into it because this isn't even the main part yet.

After leaving the World Mission Society I felt really lonely again because I lost the only friends and sense of belonging I had. But I had to just keep going.

Maybe about 3 months later this random Korean guy approached me on campus and he asked me if I'd like to participate in a survey thing about the bible. I was skeptical at first because my previous church had told me that every Korean person was a part of their church. (Which obviously is NOT true). But my mind was thinking, "Oh no, what if they are trying to get back to me."

But I decided that it's not right to assume that this man is a part of that cult just because he's Korean. So I agreed to participate in this survey and I gave him my phone number.

Basically, a professor was writing a book where she'd answer people's most common questions about the bible. And she was surveying students to collect questions for the book. It sounded pretty cool to me so I was very interested.

I met up with the professor at a Starbucks on campus and I answered her questions about things I've always wondered about the bible. We'll call this lady Anya.

During our meeting, I expressed to Anya how I felt discarded by god because of my previous cult experience. I felt like I wasn't worthy of his love and I was very ashamed of what I did. Because we would literally pray to a human man who claimed to be god. After leaving I knew that wasn't true, and I figured god no longer loved me for what I did.

Anya was so encouraging and kind. She told me that is it 100% untrue, and that god does love me. That he put me through that experience for a reason and it only made me stronger.

Then she offered to do some bible study lessons with me so I could learn things the right way and start to feel a little bit better about my situation. And of course, I agreed. I was desperate to redeem myself and make friends again.

So I started going to this bible study once a week. Which turned to twice a week. Which turned into me going to some woman's house to have lessons. We'll call this woman Cara.

Cara was from Korea and so was her husband, they were extremely nice and welcomed me into their home. They would feed me ramen and cool snacks, and I honestly felt like a part of their family. There were lots of people in this bible study too and I made a ton of friends.

So fast forward, I had been studying the bible with them for about a year now. And nothing crazy, I was learning about the parables of the bible and the meanings of all those things in the bible that make no sense. It was very informative and interesting but nothing outlandish.

They sit us down for this big "reveal" about who the 2nd coming of Jesus is. Now they hyped it up so much and they told us that we can't judge this person no matter what. This whole time I thought it was going to be someone crazy like Kanye West or something. But no, it was an old Korean man.

He seemed unassuming enough? I had never heard of him so I didn't know why they made such a big deal out of it.

Now at this point, you are probably thinking, "Why the hell would you fall for this again?" Listen, trust me I was frustrated with myself when I left but you have to understand these people love-bombed me when I had no one. They became my family when I had none. They lied to me for an entire year so I'd trust them and get close to them before they revealed who they really were.

And they were a church called Shincheonji.

And I had no problem accepting this because these people had been my family and my best friends for an entire year. They'd feed me, watch movies with me, do anything to help me out. So I trusted them wholeheartedly. But really I was just being brainwashed.

So after I found out that they were Shincheonji they put me in their group for advanced students. And I'd begin studying multiple times a week at Cara's house and Anya was always there too. I would join the twice-weekly sermons via zoom as well. Where one of the Korean tribe leaders would give a sermon about something. I was in the Mathias tribe by the way, though that doesn't really matter.

I would do so so much with them, we even all went on a road trip to Houston where the other branch was. They even got me a birthday cake and surprised me for my birthday too. It was honestly great, and I loved them a lot.

We were basically encouraged to recruit as many people as we can because if we don't they will go to hell. They put so much pressure on us for this. They'd say things like, "Don't you want to save them?" And I am a very empathetic person so I felt like omg I want to save everyone! But on the other hand, ever since I joined Shincheonji my anxiety and depression went through the roof. The pressure to save the entire world is a lot for a 21-year-old girl. So I never recruited anyone myself because I didn't want them to have to struggle with the same mental health issues I did when I joined.

I also had some physical health issues arise as well. Their teachings would always preach how "The word of god is all the food we need." How spiritual food was more important than physical food. And that really stuck with me, especially when I got food poisoning and I couldn't eat solid food for two weeks. Something about not eating made me feel good. Like I didn't even need food because the word of god was enough, so why not just not eat at all? Not eating felt like the only thing I could control, so I clung to it. And I became anorexic. Being with Shinchenji was the only time I was ever considered underweight.

Anyway, I have so many crazy stories to tell about my time with them but I'll save those for another day.

I had been with them for about two and a half years before I started to question things.

We got a new teacher from Korea to replace Cara because she was going to have a baby. And this new teacher was a lot different and a lot less loving and nurturing than Cara had been.

She had said some things that I didn't agree with, and it started putting some doubt in my mind.

Ok so, on a side note I used to work at the library at my school doing data entry in the basement. And I would listen to podcasts a lot throughout the day as I did my work.

One day I found an interesting podcast about cults, where the host would bring cult victims onto the show and they'd tell their story. Well I was listening to an episode about the Moonies and I thought to myself, "Huh, they sound very similar to Shincheonji in some ways..."

But I knew I could not think such thoughts and that if I did any research then the devil would poison me through the internet. And I needed to strengthen my spirit for even thinking of such a thing.

So I went to reddit, and I found a subreddit called r/Shincheonji. I was like, "Oh yes! Now I can talk to other Shincheonji members and we can strengthen each other's faith!"

But it wasn't a subreddit for believers. It was a subreddit for ex-members and people who were against Shincheonji.

And at this point, I had already seen enough to plant that seed of doubt in me. I read more and more even though Shincheonji warned me I'd be poisoned if I ever researched them. But I couldn't stop myself.

I went through so much inner turmoil, you guys have no idea. My reality was crumbling so hard and I felt like my world was ending. It's hard to explain, but I was so indoctrinated and brainwashed by this point. This really ruined me.

I had to mourn the loss of all of the family and friends I gained these past years. I would cry almost every night because I missed them, and it was so hard to accept that they never truly loved me at all. To be honest, I still think about some of them to this day and I hope they got out and found peace in their lives.

No one in my life had known I was a part of Shincheonji. My closest friends nor my family, who had slowly started talking to me again. But I had to tell someone so I told my childhood best friend, we'll call him Blaine.

I got in a Playstation party with Blaine and I just cried. I cried so so much, and he was so confused. But eventually, I told him everything. And he was really supportive and gave me no judgment at all.

My main issue was, how could I leave? I have quite literally been living a double life this entire time and not having that scared the shit out of me. But Blaine advised me to cut them off completely and just leave without saying anything. Because his concern was that if they got the chance to talk to me, they would most certainly be able to pull me back in. And I know them well enough to know this is true. So that's exactly what I did, I left and went cold turkey. I even went as far as changing my work schedule too.

And here's where things get creepy.

I hadn't spoken to them for about a week now, and I'm at work. I'm working as usual in the basement on the computers and low and behold, three girls walk in. Girls from my cult, girls that I was close to.

Now students aren't allowed to just waltz into this room so they had some big balls to do that. But the weird thing was, I had completely changed my schedule and I was working on a day I normally had off. They should have had no idea I was there.

But here they were, holding a large cup of boba from my favorite place. And in my favorite flavor too, winter milk cap with mango popping bubbles.

They came up to me and said, "Hey girl, we noticed you haven't been coming to worship lately. Is everything alright?"

I said, "Oh uh yeah everything's fine! I've just been super busy with work and a ton of projects for class..."

"Ok, well we got this for you," they handed me the boba, "We were hoping to talk to you. We can wait for you outside and talk to you when you get off."

I started panicking so I said, "My mom is actually picking me up as soon as I get off so I won't be able to, I'm sorry! Maybe another time though, I'll text you."

They were convinced by my response so they left. And boy did I RUN so fucking fast after I got off work. I even called Blaine so he could talk to me in case they came after me, but luckily they didn't and I got home ok.

He started yelling at me for drinking the boba saying, "YOU IDIOT! THEY PROBABLY POISONED IT!"

But hey, free boba is free boba.

Anyway, after that event I knew I had to text that girl and tell her I was deciding to leave Shinchenji because I didn't want them to show up at my job again or follow me around.

So I texted her, trying to be as nice as possible and explain to her that I just couldn't do it anymore. I told her how this affected my mental health and my physical health. How I developed an eating disorder from being in Shincheonji too.

Her response was really rude and condescending. She said my mental health issues and my eating disorder were my fault and the work of satan trying to blame them. She told me that once I leave I can never be accepted into heaven, that I'm damning myself to hell as well as all of my family members. I'll be honest, she made me feel incredibly guilty and selfish for leaving. Their teachings were still ingrained in me. But I knew that I could never return after everything, so I blocked her and never spoke to her again.

Oh yeah and that book the professor was writing in the beginning, that wasn't real and she wasn't a professor. It was just a ruse to lure students in.

I will admit I could never get their teachings out of my head. And to this day, even though I know they were wrong, a part of me believes I am going to hell for what I did and all of my family will suffer because of me. So now I can't even look at a bible, and I no longer consider myself religious.

And after this experience, I reached out to that cult podcast that helped me realize I was also in a cult, and I got an episode of my own where I got to tell my story.

So yeah haha that's my story!

Today only my close friends know, and I never told my parents. They still have no idea and honestly, I don't know if I will ever tell them.

I'm still really plagued by a lot of things they did, and my worldview has never been the same. My life has never been the same. But I've been cult free for about 2 years now so I'm just taking it one day at a time.

I'm sorry this was so long. But if you read the whole thing I want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading my story. And if you are a college student, please be careful because cults like this are rampant on college campuses, especially in the U.S.

After leaving the cult, I needed something to obsess over, something to make me feel normal. And that was Gyutaro! And I gotta say, obsessing over him is much healthier than obsessing over the teachings of a cult.

Anyway, I want you all to know that this blog has been an escape for me and helped me to feel normal again after this experience. And I don't need a cult to make me feel loved anymore. Because I have all of you :)

[decepti-thots]

while i'm talking about Whirl, one thing i've been meaning to talk about for ages just in a 'i am aware some people may not actually know this, and it hardly gets mentioned in fandom' is that Whirl in Interiors talking about briefly trying to change his name when he was a flight instructor at the flight academy is a reference to a passage in Bullets, which is in retrospect very obviously him:

Jetstream had taught him to recognize his inherent worthlessness. In front of the other cadets he'd always been supportive, but in private he would berate him for showing off and for getting ideas above his station. “You think you're something special?” he used to say. “You think you’re better than the rest, better than me, just because you can turn a few tricks? On a good day - on your best day - I’d say you were unremarkable.” Rotorstorm’s only response to Jetstream’s verbal abuse was to make jokes. If you can make light of the situation, he'd think, it can’t be as bad as it seems. Over time, Jetstream’s verbal abuse... evolved. On one occasion, Rotorstorm was pushed against a wall. On another, he was punched to the floor. Before long, he was on the receiving end of sustained and entirely unprovoked beatings. The worst day of Rotorstorm’s life - worse than the day war was declared; worse than the day of the Simanzi Massacre - was the day the IAA installed a Cryogenic Regeneration Chamber. He couldn't remember what he’d done to deserve that night's battering, but as he lay on the floor of the aircraft hangar, his torso freshly pummeled, his spinal strut bent at a right angle and his face reduced to a shallow bowl of oil and splinters, he saw something he would never forget: Jetstream was standing over him, fists clenched and head cocked, coolly appraising his options. And the look of exhilaration on his face as he wondered where to place the next punch had been terrifying. Rotorstorm had passed out before Jetstream had finished shoveling him into the CR Chamber, and had woken up the next day without a single scratch on his body. Jetstream had left overnight; he moved to a training facility in another province and later changed his name. Since then, Rotorstorm had seen him only once: he'd been sitting in the front row when Rotorstorm had been awarded the Novic Medal for Outstanding Valor, and he’d been clapping and cheering more loudly than anyone else.

and this is a really fascinating thing to consider for me because if you just describe the whole thing briefly in the abstract, it's gonna likely sound like one of two things:

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, and it worked for a time but ultimately he couldn't and went back to his old life

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, but he couldn't and was just as much of an aggro wildcard as ever so gave up

but this is... kind of not either of those, including the last one? whirl IS acting like the violent, bitter, unpredictable asshole we come to meet in MTMTE and know he was during the war, to an extent, but he's also clearly succesfully keeping up something of a facade of really inhabiting that 'not Whirl, nope, i'm a Normal Flight Instructor' in public. it's only to rotorstorm he's not, seemingly. (and even then, the way rotorstorm describes him here is... really cold and deliberate in a way that feels kind of different to what we see later.)

obviously it's. i mean it's SO deeply unpleasant, very effectively communicated in terms of how awful and traumatising that kind of thing is btw a+ but also Jesus Fucking Christ, but it also suggests to me a very specific experience Whirl is having in this period of his life that isn't quite either of those obvious choices. pokes at it. god. what the fuck is going through your head you terrible helicopter you.

[hussyknee]

Just found out that the baby baked in an oven thing Zionists accused Hamas of doing is actually something Zionists themselves did during the Deir Yassin massacre of 1948. And the fetus cut out of the pregnant woman's womb is something that was done in the massacre of the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps by Lebanese militants in concert with Zionists. We already know that they rape women and children in detention. I think the only other huge fucking lie about Oct 7th was the beheaded babies, and I'm legitimately afraid of learning whether or not that was also just something Zionists themselves did at one point.

I mean it's not even improbable because this type of unfathomable cruelty is par for the course with genociders, that only happen when the dominant group has so much disproportionate power in the region that there is only mindless hatred and perfect impunity. (The Brits used to use native infants as crocodile bait.) The reports of IOF ripping babies from their mothers arms, shooting them dead, throwing them aside and dragging the mothers off in front of witnesses were numerous even before this. I've also heard reports of young parents being dragged off and abandoning their toddlers and infants on the roadsides (saw a video of it and I'm going to be haunted to my grave). So those premature babies being left to die of starvation at the hospital was shocking but only surprising because there were so many eyes on the situation due to the efforts of the aid workers and journalists. We thought that Western governments wouldn't pull this shit with the whole world watching. As it turned out, the only reason the last twenty-odd premature babies at Al Shifa Hospital survived was because the director of the place refused to leave them until they were safely shipped off to Egypt (unaccompanied, God knows if the parents will ever get them back. Egyptian governments refused to let the few critically injured people allowed safe passage by the US to go through without visas and passports so they died in the ambulances). Then the IOF kidnapped the director right afterwards. He's still missing.

The organ harvesting thing is also true btw. We've been talking about it ever since they made off with those dead bodies at Al Shifa Hospital. Whether they were going to use them to stage their own propaganda, harvest their organs and skin, or just did it to deprive their families of giving them a burial. Probably all three.

I'm so tired of you people refusing to pay any attention to the news streaming out of Gaza via their own citizen journalists and Al Jazeera and Quds News and families of activists and then accusing us of spreading conspiracy theories! "There's so much misinformation" just say you don't trust Palestinians to tell the truth about their own genocide with your whole chest. Say that your charges of antisemitism is about how much you fear Black people and Muslims. Say that you don't reblog calls for the Jewish community to interrogate their whiteness and their enmeshing with Zionism over the decades because you feel like "it's not your place" to amplify Black and brown people challenging whiteness. Say that you shut us down and police our language about Zionists because you're philosemites who believe Jews could never be as genocidal and bloodthirsty as every other group on the world given the same power. Say that you still don't think Zionists are "as bad as" Nazis because they haven't murdered enough people yet.

I'll take the Zionists cheering over the deaths of people we're mourning over all the hidden polite lethal racism you're hiding under your white liberal tongues. I can't take this death by a thousand cuts shit anymore. Seriously why are you scrolling past? You think we aren't talking about you?

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

(this is a side-by-side show and book review, now that I've read the books, so there will be book spoilers. Also I'm not good at keeping it short so it will be Long.)

Season 1 episode 2 [... After the Phantoms of Your Former Self] - part 1/3

- Can I start first with a shout out to the music? The soundtrack is gorgeous. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think violins are the main instruments of the opening theme and the music of the "Previously"? If it's the case, that could definitely be a throwback to Nicki, and how the violin music was so important to Lestat when he was still mortal. There's a passage in The Vampire Lestat where he describes the music that Nicki plays that made me shiver:

"He ripped into the song. He tore the notes out of the violin and each note was translucent and throbbing. [...] I had never known music like it, the rawness of it, the intensity, the rapid glittering torrents of notes that came out of the strings as he sawed away."

And then later on:

"Still the sound came. It came rising out of the instrument and cleaving the night as if it were some shining element, other than air and light and matter, that might climb to the very stars. [...] The long vibrant notes, and the chilling glissandos, and the violin singing in its own tongue to make every other form of speech seem false."

Given how important music is for Lestat in the books, it does seem like the show's soundtrack was given its equal importance.

Okay, back to the show.

- Oooooh, we are starting immediately with some Armandaniel! Ahem, sorry, that random guy in the background and Danny boy. Talking about Venetian art. The writers really said "this is a show that has to be seen multiple times at multiple stages of its development to really understand all the layers and all the subtext and all the interpersonal relationships".

*chokes on a cherry pit* "Marius de Romanus"?? Excuse me???!!! Armand has a painting of Marius in his Dubai penthouse? Sorry, I need to be revived, I think I just passed out.

[Daniel] "'Did you always work for him?' [Rashid/Armand] 'I serve a god. It is my honor to serve.'" - Armand you need another hobby than Louis, seriously. Remark: those lenses work really well, at no point can you tell that those are not Armand's real eyes; on the other hand Assad Zaman has really gorgeous brown eyes. Remark: even with the canon change that the sun doesn't make vampires immediately slip into the death sleep as it rises, the fact that Armand is always awake way before Louis does say something of his age.

Love that the mortal servants are wearing masks. Covid ain't no joke, kids.

- [Louis] "'I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. I can assure you it won't happen again.' [Daniel] 'Memory is a monster. We forget. It doesn't'." - firstly, Louis' entrance is eerie. The way he seems to be gliding on the floor, and the total stillness of his face, and the flatness of his voice (once again, in awe of Jacob's accent work). Secondly, hey, the main theme of the first two seasons, hammered in: memory can change, it can reshape itself, it can twist on itself to protect the mind, or to protect itself - can you trust that you remember what happened how it happened? Or is your mind cannibalizing itself, and therefore, do you know who you truly are?

Huh. The music isn't extradiegetic. It's actually playing in the scene.

[Louis] "AB negative, fresh from the farm." - sorry, can I ask, what fucking farm? Is this more of the roleplay, or are non-human animals' blood types also ABO (no, NOT that type, geez), or are we really saying Louis has a human farm...? Excuse me but this cannot be just a throwaway random comment, what the fuck. Too many implications. *five minutes later* Right, so, did a rapid search, apparently some animal blood types also have an A type, and some animals have so much more than the ABO system. In other words, this doesn't tell me anything. "Part of me wants to ask about the farm", yes please Daniel, ASK.

- Lestat is a bloody diva, I love him. Not much to say about the graveyard scene (disposal of the bodies), except that I'm dying of laughter. Louis is going through hell while his body dies, meanwhile Lestat is prancing around, throwing punchlines, humming to himself and stashing corpses into graves. This must have been so hilarious and chaotic to film! Note to self, check if there are bloopers and how many takes did this scene take. Pretty sure that's the kind of scene where you burst out laughing at your co-actor's antics at least once or twice.

[Lestat] "There's the spark." - first of all, how is Sam Reid that pretty, jesus. Secondly, I love the way they represent the vampire's sight. It's such a big passage each time, how a vampire sees the world differently, and not in a metaphorical way, in an actual "my eyes work differently now" way, so of course they couldn't just ignore it. Love that Lestat calls it a spark. And the way they each look at each other, Lestat as if he's falling even more in love, and Louis as if he's not only going out of his mind in a "oh this is madness" way but also in a "I am understanding new things about the world" way. Although, as I've said in another post commenting on book IWTV, one thing about Louis is that he often thinks he knows or understands what's happening while in actuality he has no clue and is completely out of touch.

- [Louis] "'Lestat's blood was giggling inside me, teasing my senses, illuminating the district with overwhelming detail, as if I had walked my entire life as a dead man, and now, dead, could finally receive the secrets of existence.' [Daniel] 'You were fucking loaded.' [Louis] 'Beyond articulation.'"

Firstly, moment of silence for Louis' poetic aspirations slammed back down to Earth by Daniel. What happened basically: "*poetic nonsensical rambling* / Dude you were so fucking wasted / LOL dude I was sooooo wasted". Secondly, yeah, don't get too excited, the bad trip's about to start.

"They were your brothers and sisters once, but now they are your savoury inferiors", says Lestat, the guy who falls in love with a different mortal basically every other week. Oh, he's literally describing them as one would talk about wine. Alright.

I find it interesting that Lestat doesn't say anything about "feeding on the evil ones and leaving the innocents alone". Be right back, need to check the books, when does Lestat starts applying that philosophy? *comes back 10 minutes later covered in blood* Couldn't find a relevant passage. Let's table this for later.

[Lestat] "Careful mon cher, you're beginning to frighten the man." - Daniel talks about that in season 2, if I'm correct. But yeah, memory, huh? How could it have been Lestat who says that, knowing that maker and fledgling are mentally cut off from each other? Either Lestat said it out loud but low enough that only Louis could hear, or Louis, to use Daniel's words, went "schizophrenic" since the beginning and was already imagining Lestat as his subconscious voice.

"Just to be clear, gents, we are here to talk abot farm equipments, am I right?" - oh, are you looking for anything else to happen, random victim number one? Is that a hint of gay panic that I'm hearing?

[Lestat] "The neck, bite the neck, Louis. No, you don't bite the blood, you suck it. Yes, yes, that's better." - have I said lately how much I adore Lestat...? No? Well. Lestat cracks me up. Something I love about hm in the books is his dry humor and delivery. He is really funny when he wants to be.

- Aaaah, we're getting to the first major scene. Makes you wonder why I spent so much time on the first 9 minutes, huh? (Yes, we're barely on minute 10 out of 52, I did say I can't do short)

"'I-I gotta go home.' 'This is your home now, Louis. Breathe.' 'I-I gotta collect money from the cribs.' 'I have all the money we need. Breathe.' ' I have to go see Grace and Paul.' 'Oh, dear.' 'You ain't fucking hearin' me! I need to go home.'"

Several things. And actually one of the heart of the constant misunderstanding between Louis and Lestat. Lestat here has no attachment to his home - Louis on the other hand is the main provider of his family, the man of the house. He can't just disappear, the way Lestat seems to want him to. A few changes from the books, in which Lestat firstly is traveling with his old and dying father and thus has to care for him until his death, and secondly lets Louis understand that he has no money and Louis has to provide for him. Also as we learn in The Vampire Lestat, after his own transformation, Lestat continues to take care of his mortal family, sending them money and gifts. So, unless that part has been changed in the show, a bit hypocritical from him to act as if Louis wanting to continue caring for his family is an imposition. Then there's the part where Louis forgets Paul is dead, and Lestat immediately reacts with concern. "Oh, dear, um, how to make you remember gently that your brother is dead actually" or "Oh, dear, are you alright?".

And finally there's the fact that Louis overreacts without hearing anything Lestat tries to say, without letting Lestat say anything actually, physically pushing him away and then accusing him of not listening. I mean, it's not really Louis' fault, baby boy has gone through A LOT in the last 24 hours (Paul's suicide, his funeral, the church's burning and the priests' murders, his transformation and physical death, his first hunting, not even talking about having to hear Horse Rando's ramblings...), he's confused and lost and hurting and hasn't had time to come to terms with anything that's happened. But on the other hand, Lestat's the only one that could help him, and instead of listening to him, giving him 5 more minutes to explain, Louis almost immediately shuts him out and pushes him away. And in return Lestat closes himself up and decides to be as contrary as possible, instead of being patient and helpful. And sometimes it's Lestat who's asking for patience and support and doesn't get it and Louis closing himself up, etc. And thus the main Loustat dynamic for the next several decades is born.

- "You're going to find that very difficult", yep, thanks Lestat. Very constructive. Oh, and look, the sun is up and none of them is sleeping (yeah, that tiny little change actually bothers me, I don't know why yet - maybe I'll find the words later). Really love the visual effect of vampires starting to flake off as ashes as they burn. Hammers in the idea of "undead body". "The sun gives life to everything but us. I should have told you that" - YA THINK. Explain to me why you have a roof window opened letting in the deadly sun (the sun is a deadly laser, free reference for everyone) when you're a vampire. Sounds like structural failure to me. THIS SCENE. First of all Sam Reid's French pronunciation of "New Orleans" and other words, and then Sam Reid's TRAINING ROUTINE holy shit I'm looking respectfully. OH, and his SWAGGER, we need a swagger competition between Sam Reid as Lestat and David Tennant as Crowley, PLEASE. "The perfect setting for a vampire home, a vampire romance" - boy is so THIRSTY lmao. What a slut (affectionate - and also, free gift to non-book readers, Lestat canonically LOVES being called a slut, I am not inventing anything; go mad with it). LOVE that Lestat goes into the coffin fully NAKED and then looks at half-burned Louis and still goes "it's okay, you can go on top", NOTHING will turn him off when it comes to Louis, absolutely nothing. And then Louis' little "gulp", his realisation that, oh, shit, doesn't matter that the guy is an asshole, he wanna tap that.

- Oh, I was going to stop part 1 with this, but Daniel and Louis' exchange is too good to pass.

[Louis] "'Too many firsts for one night.' [Daniel] 'How's sexuality play in that?' [Louis] 'It's a complicated question, Daniel, and we shouldn't conflate it with the salesman's death.' [Daniel] 'Humor me.' [Louis] 'To satisfy your fixation, being transformed by Lestat, being desired by him, bedding down with him, was an overture of sorts to that side of my nature.' [Daniel] 'To the shame of queer theorists everywhere.'"

*cackling* Two catty drama queens trying to outcunt each other, this is a feast. I love Jacob's delivery of these lines, as if it's so not interesting and he'd rather talk about anything else, but also, he cannot stop himself from talking about Lestat. There's really the reluctance of talking about something, someone, that meant a lot, still means a lot, but hurts so damn much that it's better to pretend that it doesn't mean anything anymore. I can't help but seeing that last line as a bit of a meta commentary on the history of the books? I'd need to do some research on book reviews in the '70s, see how the homoerotic explicit subtext of the text was received by non-queer audiences, or even what queer readers were saying, if they (the queer theorists) were divided in their interpretation of the text, or if the book was viewed immediately as a gay romance. Because, like, it's been a month since I read IWTV, and in the meantime I read the rest of the series and dived into the few fics I could find, but if memory serves, IWTV the book doesn't outright state that the relationship between Louis and Lestat is a romance. Mmh. Too many things to research, let's table this for now.

episode 1 | part 2 | part 3 | episode 3 | episode 4 | episode 5 | episode 6 | episode 7

[rudystopit]

ii. Cut It Off│M.O'Hara

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Summary: After a quiet morning prayer, you bond with Sister Lyla and her friends before helping Father O'Hara with his project. Confessions and unsettling dreams stir guilt and tension, culminating in a tense encounter with Father O'Hara that hints at deeper secrets. Navigating the abbey’s strict rules, you confront your own emotions and the shadows lurking within the community.

Pairing: Priest!Vampire!Miguel O'Hara/Nun!reader

Warnings: man gets mad he cant fuck? he watches you bathe? again there's no down right smut but there will be so please MDNI!!

a/n: quick little background on this. I started writing this when the second movie came out and ive been pushing off so fully if i post it i can get the story i want out and not be constantly thinking about it.

word count: 5,208

masterlist

{cross posted on AO3}

𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔴 5:30 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱-𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔢, 𝔠𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔣𝔣 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔬 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩.

After you finished eating you returned the bowl to the kitchen and headed to the convent's chapel for morning prayers. You found a spot close to the back and waited for the other sisters to arrive from breakfast. You kept your head low knowing that none of them would talk to you. You sat waiting for Abbess Drew to go up to the front.

"Church mouse," a sister whispered over her shoulder. "Hey, you," a hand flicked your knee. You looked up to see three sisters looking at you.

"Yes?" You asked.

"I overheard you working with Father O'Hara on the exhibit," she stated.

"Yes. I am," you looked at the others around her.

"Well, I'm Sister Lyla  and this is Sister Margo and Sister Peni." She points at the others. "We've been here for about three years so if you need any help we're here," She smiles.

"I've been here for five years," you said, slowly. Her face drops and becomes pale.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought you just joined. And people call you church mouse, I thought it was because you've always been a part of the church and just now decided to take your vows,"

"Ok," you said slowly once again, trying to figure out what she was saying. She stared at you waiting for you to tell her off for being disrespectful or something along that line. The two of you just stared at each other waiting for the other to talk, but luckily, you were saved by Abbess Drew standing at the front.

"Good morning, sisters," her voice boomed out.

"Good morning" a monotonous tone rang out. 

One of the older fathers comes and puts his hand on her back to usher to her seat. He walks to the smaller of the podiums and begins reciting the passages for today's morning sermon. You started to become more dazed the longer the father talked. A hand flicked your knee again. You looked over at her. Your eyes pleaded for her to stop. 

"What is the project?" she whispered. You wave your hand to tell her to stop. "I worked with a father once. mostly just errands and small tasks. But you get to be a part of the project. That's really cool. congrats." she smiled at you. 

"Thanks," You whispered back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Abbess Drew glare at the two of you. You slide down into your seat hoping she wouldn't come to tell you off. You listened to the father drone on and on. You wished they would pick one of the younger fathers to do the morning sermon. Give them more training, you thought. It would also help with keeping the sister's attention. Give them someone that wouldn't put them to sleep. You were staring blankly at the pew in front of you when Abbess Drew thanked the Priest and walked up to the front. 

She lifts her hands and all of the sisters' heads bow. "O God, come to my assistance," Abbess Drew sang out.

"O God, make haste to help me," you answer back. A sea of the other sisters' voices drowns yours out.

"Glory be to the Creator, to the Redeemer and the Holy Spirit," Abbess Drew raised her arms above her head.

"As it was in the beginning, it is now and will be forever," the sisters answered.

"Amen," and with that morning prayers were over. And you were excused to do your silent prayers and other rituals.

"Hey, I'm really sorry," Sister Lyla  finds you. "I've never seen you around the abbey," she follows right behind you. You make your way up to Abbess Drew, trying to ignore her. You wished she had left you alone instead of following you to apologize.

"I'm normally assigned to the library," you told her in hushed tones, trying to end the conversation. "Good morning, Abbess Drew," you bow.

"Good morning Sister. I hear Father O'Hara is looking for an assistant for his project," she stretches out her arm to invite you to follow her to her office. You follow behind her.

"Yes, Sister. He told me yesterday after he asked me to help him select books for said project," You said, trying to not let your excitement escape.

"Yes, He has come to me and asked for you specifically," she opens her door to her office. You follow her in. You watched her sit in her seat and waited for her to permit you to sit. She waves her hands and you sit in a big plush chair. "I will allow it. He doesn't know how long the project will take but he also suggested you be his assistant permanently. I told him that would be up to you once the project is over," she said. You thanked her and waited for her to dismiss you. "Oh and sister, he asked for you in the afternoon so after lunch report to his office. In the meantime do the duties you would normally do in the even now. That's all, you're dismissed."

With that, you left. You thought about what you would normally do in the afternoon. Prayer and shower were the biggest ones that came to mind. You walked around the abbey's hallways. You see a bulletin board with the abbey's events. A bake sale next week and a fair in the middle of spring. You saw some other meetings that are being held in the abbey's extra rooms. You scanned to find if Father O'Hara was in charge of any of them. It looks like it's all the younger priests that are handling them.

You knew he was older but not like the cardinal level of old. He could probably become a bishop in the next year if he wanted to. You started at the flyers and the memory of the dream from last night reappeared in your mind. A chill spreads through your body. You stared at his name. Confession. You need to confess. You know thinking about sinning really isn't a sin but you reasoned that because you are a member of the abbey, your thoughts should be clean and pure. You turned and walked towards the chapel, hoping the other sisters had left and the Father in charge of confession this morning would be in the booth.

While you walk to the main chapel, some of the sisters give you weird looks. You pushed open one of the newer doors to go outside. You walked along the stone path to the community's chapel. You liked the community's chapel. It was much larger and grander than the convent chapel. The beautiful stained glass filters the light in bright colors and makes the inside feel painted in a way. You pushed open the large doors. You looked around at all the windows. The beautiful colors filled the room with such brilliance. You release the breath you were holding. You walked up to the confessional booth. The old door creaks, alerting the father to someone coming in.

You sit on the hard, wooden bench. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You lift your hand to your forehead. A light tap then to your chest. You opened your eyes and tapped your left shoulder. You finish on your right and place your hands in your lap. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession," you said. You thought about the last time you confessed. You felt so guilty that you took extra food one day. You were plagued with thoughts of God condemning you for greed because of it. You practically cried to the priest about it.

"I think I've committed the sin of lust by accident," you say to the wall in front of you. the father hums and you continue, "I had a dream where a man touched me." You hesitated on the last words. You thought about the dream. He didn't necessarily touch you inappropriately. But the way it made you feel... you couldn't get over that feeling. "This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins." You feel the ghost of his hands running up your leg. You move to push your thighs together. Tears threatened your eyes.

"As penance, review the readings in Ephesians 4. Focus on verses 17 through 24." He says.

"Thank you," you pause. You bring your hands to your chest. You bow your head as your eyes flutter shut. "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. our savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us." You bring your hand up to sign the cross, "In his name, my God, have mercy."

You pause. "Amen," you and the priest say in unison.

"You are doing well, my child. By coming to god before you act upon these urges, you will overcome these sins before they damage your soul," the priest says. "Bless this child, may she not be consumed by the sinful way of the world and be reunited with your light once more. Amen," he prays.

You stand up quietly. You shut the door behind you and walk over to the candles. An elderly woman is lighting hers. You walk up next to her. She offers you her still-lit match. You bowed in thanks and lit your own candle. You bow and give a prayer of thanks to god. Once finished you place your hand on the elderly woman's shoulder. She smiles and bows.

You try to make sure your steps aren't too loud for the visitors and make your way to the doors. You open them enough for you to sneak out. You sighed and made your way back to your room. Your footsteps are faster than normal. You felt tears prick in your eyes. Once the tear fell, you started to run.

You ran back to your room. Ignoring the concern of the people around you. You slammed your door and fell. You brought your legs to your chest. You weep and pray to god to end whatever you're feeling. To stop whatever is in your mind. You want it to all go away. You hugged your legs tighter to your body and let the tears fall. Your throat hurts as you hold back sobs. You knew you were crying because God had finally shown you the feelings you were feeling were sinful. Your crying was to show him you are willing to change.

You sat for many minutes. You let the feelings come flowing and you didn't see an end in sight. You figured you would end up asleep on the floor, missing your duties and meals. You decided that Abbess Drew would understand if you explained to her tomorrow. Your tears had slowed but your breathing still hiccupped. You let your eyes close as you let the peacefulness of the end of the cry fill you. This is when you feel as if God has forgiven you.

You hear a soft knock on the door. You quickly wipe your face and stand up to your feet. You brushed off your skirt and closed your eyes. You inhaled as much as you could and held it till you stopped feeling like crying. You exhaled and opened the door.

Abbess Drew stood in your doorway. "What's troubling you, dear?" she asked. Her hand gently landed on your upper back, trying to coax you out of your room. You sniffled and looked up.

"Confession stirred up some hidden feelings," you weakly smiled at her. "Sorry to have bothered you and the others."

"That's alright." she pulled you in for a hug. "Now, go on and do your penance," she said with a smile.

"Thank you, Abbess," you walked back to your room. You lean against the door while it closes. You closed your eyes and let all the feelings melt off of you before you moved to your table. You opened your bible and began to read the passage the priest gave you.

17 So I tell you this, and insist on it in the Lord, that you must no longer live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking. 18 They are darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardening of their hearts. 19 Having lost all sensitivity, they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity, and they are full of greed.

20 That, however, is not the way of life you learned 21 when you heard about Christ and were taught in him in accordance with the truth that is in Jesus. 22 You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; 23 to be made new in the attitude of your minds; 24 and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

You finished reading and mulled over the meaning and how it pertains to your situation. A few tears had fallen as you read but you knew that was to be expected. You prayed and thanked God for forgiving you. You closed your bible. You looked out your window. It was so sunny out. The sky was a glorious blue and the birds were singing their praises.

"I need to wash all this off," you whispered to yourself. You stood and gathered your things for your shower. You walked to the bathhouse, trying to ignore the whispers from the sisters.

The bathhouse was too open for your liking but you lived with it. You set your towel and shoes by the wall. You removed your habit starting with your veil and cap. You undo your hair and run your fingers through it, massaging your scalp to release the tension in your head. You sighed and turned to sit. You lifted your skirt to pull your socks down, failing to notice the figure on the balcony of the bathhouse.

Father O'Hara watches as you drag the fabric down your legs. He hums at how your legs stretch. His gaze lingers at the end of your shirt, which is currently hanging at your hips. You fold your socks and put them in your shoes. He admires how gracefully you stand. His mouth waters as he watches your fingers undo the buttons of your habit. He grips the pillar he's standing next to, as you let the dress fall to the floor. He memorizes the muscles on your back as you stretch.

You fold the dress and remove your undergarments. It takes the will of God to keep him from running down there as you make your way into the bath. Father O'Hara watches how your muscles relax as soon as the warm water reaches your skin. Once you find your place to sit, he is practically leaning over the railing. He readjusts his pants as you lean back into the bath to soak your hair, and breasts on full display for the father. He groans at the sight.

He convinces himself to leave before he can't take it. He hurries to his office, quickly slamming the door and locking it. He sits in his chair uncomfortably. The strain on his pants is unbearable. He puts his arms on his desk and his head in his hands. He wants to scream. He wants to relieve himself. He wants to devour you. He looks up and the reason he can't be looking right at him. His God. Your God. The reason he can't have you.

He picks up his cup from his desk and hurls it across the room. It shatters against the painting, causing it to fall. He stares at the wall, not able to think. His nails dig at his desk. flashes of you in the bath run across his mind. Then the picture. Anger continues to build in his chest. His breathing is erratic. His heart is beating faster than ever before. He growls at the thoughts swirling in his mind.

A knock. A singular knock at the door. His heart sank to his feet. His breathing had stopped altogether. He released his grip on the desk. He looked around at the scene surrounding him. Another knock. He snapped at the door.

"Miguel?" a voice rang from the other side of the door. He ran up to the door and opened it enough to see who it was. Father Parker's worried look told him more than enough to know that everyone heard his outburst. "Are you alright?"

"Old nails. The painting fell and the glass shattered. sorry to startle you," his voice low. Father Parker knew something was wrong but knew prying wasn't going to help. He took that as truth and left.

Father O'Hara went back to his desk. He let his head fall to the surface. He stared out his window, beginning to think about all that just happened. He'll have to see you later. He'll have to be in this office with you. He closed his eyes and let the headache consume his mind.

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You walked down to the dining room for the sisters. Hearing the lively chatter from the hall. You stopped at the window and saw a group of fathers walking around outside. They looked to be in deep conversation. One amongst them was Father Parker. He looked scared or maybe worried, you really couldn't tell. You shoved your weight against the door of the dining room.

You walked over to the other sisters to see what was on the menu for lunch. It looked like chicken and some veggies. You smiled and headed to the line to get some food. Once your plate was made, you made your way to the table closest to the window.

Picking at the vegetable, you watched the birds fly around the courtyard. You watched how they looked as if they were playing tag. But as you watched more, when they dove at each other it was like a freefall but their trust in each other was more than just a silly little game. It was unconditional love. A love that they're willing to take life-threatening risks just to prove that they only want each other.

A plate smacked on the table across from you. "Did you hear?" Sister Lyla  said.

"Gossip is morally wrong," you said, looking back towards the window. The birds had left.

"Is it gossip when I overheard the Fathers talking?" she tried to reason with you. You looked at her, wondering where she was going with this. "I heard Father Parker say he was concerned for Father O'Hara. He said he heard a crash in his office and when he went to go check out if he was alright, Father O'Hara said his painting fell," she paused only to take a bit of her food. "Father Parker said he doesn't believe him. I heard the two of them were friends before they joined the church. So I would believe Father Parker if he said something wasn't right with Father O'Hara," she finished her rant and enjoyed her meal as if she hadn't said all of that in one breath.

"What do you think was the noise then?" you asked, discarding your food to the side.

"I don't know," she said, "he seems like the kind of guy to get mad easily. Maybe someone got under his skin," she looked down at your food. You pushed it to her, you didn't want it now. "You'll be there after lunch, right? Well, you should tell me, if a painting really did break. Ease the tension of everyone. That's if he didn't clean it up," she said.

"You're right," you pondered on her statements. If a painting really did fall then you'd know the rumor is true that it just happened to have fallen. But what if it wasn't the painting? You tried not to overthink all the possible reasons for a loud crashing sound coming from a Father's office.

"What are you thinking?" Sister Lyla  asked.

"What if it's not a painting?" you asked. "What if he tripped, or knocked something off his desk, or threw something or completely destroyed the room," your face began to contort into panic and confusion.

"Don't worry, I believe that it was just the painting that fell. I think Father Parker saw him in shock after the painting just spontaneously fell in his quiet office," her hand lands on yours. You looked up to see her bright smile.

"Thanks," you smiled back, "Well, I have to go explore his office now. Would you like to meet me for breakfast in the morning?" you asked, clearing the table.

"Yeah, I'll see you here in the morning," she followed you up to the door of the kitchen and you both disposed of your plates. She waved as she sat with Sister Margo. You smiled back at her.

You strolled through the hallway, gleaming. You were excited to have a friend. Five years and the only person you've had a real conversation with has been the Abbesses. You grinned while watching your feet. You had a lightness to your steps. You wanted to twirl around in the hallways of the abbey.

You made it to the door of the offices of the Fathers. You pushed it open lightly hoping to not make a sound. Though some of the Fathers are old, their hearing is still as good or maybe better than when they were younger. And they weren't afraid to complain that a sister was making too much noise in the offices while they tried to work.

You got to the old oak door with Father O'Hara's name scripted on it. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. You waited for the door to open. You swayed on your feet. You knocked again. You heard footsteps approach you. You turned to see Father Parker walking towards you.

"Oh, Hello, Sister," he smiled. He sees you standing in front of Father O'Hara's door. "Is he not answering?" He asked and you stepped aside to let him try. He knocked loudly and then yelled through the door. "Father O'Hara, A sister is here to see you." He looks back at you. "Are you the sister assigned to his project?"

"Yes, Father," you answered.

"Well, I'm sorry about this. He normally is very punctual," he twists the knob of the door. "Huh, it's locked. I don't think I saw him wandering around the abbey after I saw him this morning. Would you like me to escort you to Sister Drew?"

"Yes please," you follow behind him. You two walked in silence for the majority of the way. You felt quite awkward. You wanted to ask him questions to lighten the mood, but he looks so concerned and the only question you want to ask is if they had been friends since before they both joined the church. You stared at the floor, trying to minimize the silence.

"One of the Sisters was telling me about your opportunity to work with Aug– Father O'Hara," he finally says. "Do you like history?" He slows his pace to match with you.

"Yeah, I was going to study history in college. Plus, My duties are in the library. Convenient if you need a book right then, instead of having to wait till the library opens."

"Hadn't thought of it like that," he laughed, "smart man."

You smiled at his comment. You liked talking to the Fathers. They're always so polite and the younger ones are more carefree with what they say. It reminds you of your friends before you joined the convent. You looked up at the Father and smiled.

"Father O'Hara isn't much for history. He has always been good at science. In school, he had a knack for biology. It was weird seeing here one day. I swear I thought he would have become a scientist," he smiled and looked out the window as if looking at a fleeting memory.

"You knew each other before joining?"

"Yeah, we were friends," he laughs, "he used to be a lot scarier. True me, kid, you did not want to meet him back then," his hand lands on your shoulder. Your thoughts drifted to what he might have been like before joining the church. You smiled at the thought of him in a lab coat and how someone that big could be a scientist.

"Well it looks like we're here," he knocks on the door.

"Come in," Abbess Drew's voice rang out. Father Parkers opened the door and Abbess Drew instantly stood to her feet. She quickly bowed, "Father Parker, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I found this one waiting for Father O'Hara. He doesn't seem to be in and I was escorting her back to you," he smiles. He stretches his arm to let you in. You walk into her office. You quickly bow and wait for her orders. "If you don't mind, I could use some help organizing the files in my office."

"You seem to be popular," she smiles at you. "Very well, you may help Father Parker tonight. Father Parker, if you see Father O'Hara, Please remind him that if he needs to do other things please tell me so we don't have another little meeting like this. The sisters work for our Lord, not just the Fathers," she gently reminds him.

"Yes Sister Drew," he bows and starts to leave. You bow to Abbess Drew and walk out behind Father Parker. He closes the door and looks at you. "So what do you want to know?"

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him.

"About Father O'Hara. You have a whole encyclopedia about him, right here," he smiles and begins walking to his office. "I can tell you about this one time we snuck out to go see these girls in our class. Poor guy, he was so nervous."

"Father O'Hara? nervous?" you asked, grinning. Father Parker smiled back.

"Oh yeah! He almost fell out of his window when I went to go get him. But when we got there, Oh man! He was stumbling over his words and couldn't look any of them in the eyes. He just sat there playing with his hands. He wouldn't speak to me for a whole day afterward. Said I was 'being too mean' for putting him in the situation," he laughed so loud, that you looked around to see if you were bothering anyone.

"Do you know why he joined?" you asked.

"Boring question," his voice rang off the walls of the abbey. "But all I know is he showed up here, asking for me. The abbey gave him a place to stay. After a few months, he joined the church and started his journey to becoming a priest. He never told me why he was looking for me or why he decided to stay," his voice became deadly serious. "I don't mind, I was starting to miss my old buddy." he paused for a second. He giggled to himself. "You should see him when he's a few drinks in. He cannot hold his liquor. Which is weird if you think about it. O'Hara? That's an Irish name." he said matter-of-factly. "I have a question for you," you looked up in shock. He laughed, "Nothing bad. I was wondering why the other sisters call your church mouse."

"Well, I didn't know about the nickname until recently," you answered honestly.

"Oh, so not a good nickname, I guess," he said as he pushed open the door to the offices. "I like it though. It matches you," he said, opening the door to his office.

You stopped in your tracks. It was disgusting. Absolutely filthy. It looked like someone let a bird and cat in here and let them chase each other. You look around, trying to find a place to start. All your options came back as none. Nada, nothing. Zero.

"You can start over there with the boxes. All you need to do is file them into the filing cabinet," he smiled. You just looked at him in horror.

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After many hours of laughing, stories of Father Parker's and Father O'Hara's past, and lots and lots of cleaning, you had gotten the office to where you can see the floor, and desk and be able to walk from the door to the window. Now, you're slouched in his office chair, listening to him go on about his glory days in high school. Your back was screaming but you enjoyed his company and can't technically leave until he dismisses you.

"And that's how me and Miguel broke into the abandoned hospital and I scared him so bad he didn't talk to me for a week," he finished. He sees your eyes struggle to stay open. He looks up at the clock and sees it's about midnight. "Oh, I'm so sorry, you're dismissed. Sometimes I forget that you can't tell me to shut up so you can leave." you stand to your feet and limp to the door. "But thank you. I do enjoy having someone to help me clean and listen to me ramble about my past life. I appreciate it," he puts his hand on your lower back. "Have a good night, Sister."

"Thank you and I'm always willing to help again. Good night Father Parker," you said as you sleepily walked down the hallway to the door. He watches to make sure you can walk, but once you make it to the door he retreats into his office.

You walk in the silence of a sleeping abbey. The halls were only illuminated by the moon. You fought to keep your eyes open. Your back trying to not give out before you make it to your room. The threat of passing out is heavy on your mind.

Father O'Hara's name ringing in your ears. Miguel O'Hara. sisters weren't supposed to know the Fathers' first names. Father Parker gave up on trying to not say his first name about twenty minutes into talking.

You shuffled down the hall with the sisters' rooms. Once at your door, you threw yourself against it and made your way to your closet. you took off your habit and made your way to your window to close it. You looked out to the street below.

You see a figure walking below. It was a large man. You chuckle at the thought that it might be Father O'Hara. Until he turned to look back to see if anyone was around. You saw his face. It was him. but you were too tired to care and turned to your bed.

[khytal]

ok gamers I rewatched tristamp one more time in order to write a post about the soundtrack, and some of the stuff I found blew my socks off (even though I've seen every episode like 6 times) so buckle up because oh my god. oh my god

this will cover most of both volumes of the OST (which you can find on spotify), with a focus on wolfwood, and a little bit of vash, meryl, and the eye of michael

...and a very thorough breakdown of "drain arm" :)

notes before I get into it: -I won't be analyzing the plant song because I. already wrote an entire separate thing about that haha (a link to that doc will be in the replies section of the notes if you're interested)

-you won't need to know anything about music theory, because I'm just pointing out where certain themes come up (with the exception of "duet", but I'll explain terminology there). timestamps will be included so you can listen for them as you read

-if you're obsessed with the OST like I am, most of this probably won't be anything new x) but I hope it's enjoyable regardless

-my credentials: I was a pianist for 10 years and an oboist for 7.5 years and I only had 1 semester of intermediate music theory but I got to analyze the 1st mvt of tchaik 5 and I think that permanently altered my brain chemistry

-the tracks I recommend being familiar with to have a better grasp on this post are: -> "whistling/blues harp in the wasteland" (vash's leitmotif) -> "reality" -> "childhood memories" -> "duet" -> "human subject" (eye of michael, or EoM, leitmotif) -> "drain arm" (technically optional)

-please don't take any of my interpretations/speculation as fact! you are absolutely free to come to your own conclusions I just have a lot of thoughts about the soundtrack lol 👍

here we go :]

EP1: -you can hear a variation of the plant song in "immigrant space explorer" (0:36-1:00)

-vash's leitmotif is first heard in "no man's land" (0:41-0:48)

-only about half of "mystery man" plays, and his leitmotif (0:38-0:51) is actually cut from the scene so it's not heard at all

EP2: -"escape" has vash's leitmotif from 0:18-0:31. they also took out the lyrics in the episode's version of the track x)

-it's possible that we'll hear "might is right" or a new arrangement of it if we get to see the rest of the nebraska family in future episodes, since there were posters of marilyn. I think people largely associate the song with EG the Mine but due to the track title and the fact that it first played in this episode, I feel like it's more about the nebraskas

-I'll talk about "childhood memories" in ep12 because it's related to rem's themes

EP3: -the plant song can be heard in "compatriots" (1:01-1:11)

-"reality" is first heard here, right before the episode in which wolfwood is introduced. keep this in mind for later :')

EP4: -"undertaker" has a dissonant sax part (0:48-0:54) that's similar to the one found in "irritation" (1:05-1:11), but it's an ascending passage rather than descending. it doesn't show up anywhere else so it might become a motif we'll hear in the future, but there's no way to know until the next part is released

-"planet zaji", from 0:55-1:04, has that one part from "time left" (1:02-1:09). it's heard while wolfwood's spinning the punisher around but I think it's just something that sounds cool, and you can't really hear it anyway because of the sound effects/dialogue. if zazie gets any additional themes in the future I might have more to say on this

-vash's leitmotif kicks in in "hungry !" (0:21-0:43) when wolfwood introduces himself at the end of the episode. I really like this track I hope we'll get to hear it again x)

EP5: -I don't think there's any meaning behind "shadow" borrowing from "worms network". I'm pretty sure it was just for mood (and to be fair it is a cool track)

-you can hear vash's leitmotif at the beginning of "boy and vash". this is the part where vash is escorting rollo back to the village

-"cyborg" introduces a new 4-note pattern (0:07-0:14) that I'm calling the eye of michael leitmotif. if hearing this reminds you of episode 6 then you already understand what I mean

-"dud" has vash's leitmotif as well (2:20-2:59), which starts playing when vash is begging rollo to wake up after wolfwood kills him

-only a small part of "human subject" (0:25-0:35) is used for the final scene, right when the windmills start turning. using the EoM leitmotif as a sendoff to the empty village is. really haunting

EP6 (this is a long one I'm sorry): -the EoM leitmotif can be heard in "reborn" (0:09-0:14, but it's easier to hear in 0:26-0:30). this is the opening scene where wolfwood guns down the deserter

-they do reuse "worms network" when livio first opens fire on vash but that's more for mood in my opinion. you could say it hints at zazie monitoring the sand steamer though

-we're probably going to hear "the desert rogue" again when the bad lads gang shows up in a future episode, possibly with a new arrangement for brilliant dynamites neon (this is one of my personal favorite tracks actually. it's a shame they didn't get to use the whole thing because 0:45 to the end is really cool)

-"boyhood" contains the EoM leitmotif and it's very in-your-face in this song (1:15-2:19). in the episode itself the track gets cut at around 2:10, but in the OST the piano motif from "orphanage" can be heard one more time right at the end of the song at 2:18-2:20. which is an evil thing to do. anyway

-"nicholas the punisher" is an arrangement of "reality". let that sit for a second, maybe go listen to those two tracks or something.

okay so we can look at this in a few different ways:

-> the end of episode 3 is of course a reality check, supported by the corresponding track being titled "reality" (even though it's fabricated by nai: to suggest and then prove to the people of no man's land that vash is indeed deserving of the $$6mil bounty; and to tell vash that his presence will pose a threat to humans). you know who else is supposed to be* grounded in reality? the pragmatic nicholas d wolfwood, who's introduced at the start of episode 4 *tristamp wolfwood hasn't quite found his resolve yet, as shown by his hesitation when livio appears

-> in the scene where "nicholas the punisher" is heard, vash is insistent on rescuing livio while wolfwood pushes back and says it's too late for him. he's clearly wishing he wouldn't have to eliminate livio though, and with "reality" as the foundation of this song, it presents wolfwood's inner turmoil in a new way for the audience: vash, who is physically right there trying to persuade him that there's still hope for his brother, vs his role as "nicholas the punisher" in sound, in his mind, and the "reality" that developed along with it (death is/can be a mercy, and sometimes it's necessary to sacrifice one life to save many)

(I also want to add that while legato's dialogue shows he intended for the orphanage to be eliminated through livio's death, it seems wolfwood didn't even realize that killing livio would mean more kids would be taken by the EoM for experimentation. he thought he had to choose between livio or the children, but it was a "test" of loyalty; and legato was attempting to obtain said loyalty by force)

-> outside of the episode, if you were to just listen to this track within the OST it's very representative of his character. contrary to "undertaker", which is fairly laid-back and....honestly kind of playful (and equally reflective of wolfwood's personality, when he's relaxed), "nicholas the punisher" is a more somber and contemplative piece. the fact that it's built on "reality" already suggests that he's someone whose beliefs conflict with vash's; and even without knowing that, both of wolfwood's themes contrast with the energy of "vash the stampede" quite clearly (even if I personally don't consider that track to be vash's official theme, it's still associated with him). I think it's really interesting that vash, the quieter one, has more raucous songs while wolfwood, the one with a sharp tongue, has calmer tracks :)

you might be wondering if "orphanage" is in "nicholas the punisher" and the answer is......yes, but actually, no. but kinda if you're delusional like me. this little pattern from 0:29-0:42 in "orphanage" is found in the low brass from 0:57-1:11 in "nicholas the punisher" (although it's in a different key and has a slight variation in the 2nd half). it's not quite the same, but both phrases start by going down a half step, then down a P5 interval (D->C#->F# for "orphanage", F->E->A for "nicholas the punisher"). lastly the sand steamer's leitmotif (I guess) is also present but that's. obviously because this is happening on the sand steamer lol

-"whom to kill, whom to let live" is just a faster/more tense arrangement of "orphanage" with saxophone over it. starting at 1:07 you can hear the worms leitmotif (1:31-1:34 in "worms network")

I can't say whether or not legato is already represented in the OST because he's currently not associated with any unique tracks, but they might tie the dissonant saxophone passage from "irritation" to him. it's first heard when legato stops wolfwood from escaping the facility, and as far as I can remember it's not played anywhere else. if he plays a bigger role in the next season, which I'm sure he will, I'll be keeping an ear out for this x) (I only mention the sax thing because I don't think he's represented by the sax solo that plays in "whom to kill, whom to let live")

EP7: -a little more of "the desert rogue" is heard when the bad lads make their way onto the sand steamer but it's very hard to make out over the gang yelling in the background lmao

-we're treated to the entirety of "human subject", for the scene where livio briefly returns to himself. if you somehow weren't convinced that those repeated 4 notes had anything to do with the eye of michael, this is the last instance where it's heard: the moment livio's overcome by whatever brainwashing was used on him by the EoM

-I think most people associate "time left" with ep12 but it's first played in this episode and I believe that it was primarily composed with the ion cannon sequence in mind (though a majority of the tracks in the OST only play once for specific scenes, with some songs being cut short and getting different parts played across 2+ episodes. "irritation" and "human subject" are examples of this)

EP8: -this one's a little hard to hear because the 1st note is implied in the C drone but vash's leitmotif starts at around 0:09 in "complicity" and runs all the way to 1:06

-it's also in "home" (1:38-1:57), playing at the moment luida hands vash the red coat :)

EP9: -I've talked about this before but I really like that there's 4(?) measures of polyrhythm (2 or more differing rhythmic lines that are played within the same time signature) when vash joins in, before the brothers come together on the same even rhythm. you can see how vash's quarter-note pattern doesn't line up with nai's quarter-note triplets, and in fact, neither of them ever land or start together:

(for the sake of comprehension I wrote it out with a faster tempo to stretch the polyrhythm part over 8 bars instead of the slow tempo/4 bars. I'm not sure what the official tempo is. I think a sane person would write it at a faster tempo so that the part doesn't look stupidly cluttered but a good musician would be able to play it regardless. anyway-)

it sounds even more stilted because vash is playing on the offbeat. polyrhythm's such a great way to represent the brothers' relationship because it seems so chaotic but both lines are still in time together, following the same beats. they're so different but in the end they're still brothers who (are trying to) understand each other. and I love that vash is playing secondo, a more harmonic/supportive part, while knives has primo, where the melody/ornaments are. it says a lot about their personalities :')

since I don't know what the original sheet music looks like I can't say if this is true but you can hear that the plant song at 1:03 is played in octaves (2 notes that're the same pitch with one higher than the other). because of the nature of a duet, and the fact that this was played by the twins when they were little, the octaves were probably split between the parts. so vash was playing the lower octave of the plant song with his right hand, and nai played the upper octave with his left hand (we don't get to see this because it cuts to nai playing the song alone at that point). also: vash favors his right hand while nai favors his left

-now for something far less interesting: "last run" is a medley combining "ethics and morality", "compatriots", and "millions knives"

EP10: -"a cruel sight" seems to be unused. it was probably intended to lead into "bio-power reactor" in the scene where meryl and roberto meet elendira in the tank (given that it ends the same way "bio-power reactor" starts), but they cut it and just played a version of "bio-power reactor" without the melody

-elendira's themes ("elendira the crimsonnail" and "which is the monster?") seem to have some lyrics that're most audible in the beginning of the tracks but they're almost impossible to make out without some kind of editing software, which I don't have lol. they're already very quiet in the background and they echo, on top of sounding like they were put through autotune

also this is entering speculation territory but it makes me wonder if elendira's theme is going to evolve with her. we've seen some concept art with her having a more teenage appearance, so I think it'd be really cool if the vocals also changed accordingly

additionally she doesn't have the EoM leitmotif anywhere but she DOES have a proper 4-note chromatic pattern that descends from D in "which is the monster?" (1:32-1:35), which is the same note that the EoM leitmotif starts on. if we consider EoM's broken chromatic passage to represent the failed experiments, then elendira, with an actual chromatic passage in her theme, is a success

-"meryl's regrets" is ALSO an arrangement of "reality" :') this is the track that plays during roberto's final moment, which was. you know. the consequence of meryl running off in pursuit of the truth. the "reality" roberto had warned her about several times prior to episode 10. interestingly, while "nicholas the punisher" expands on the original track, "meryl's regrets" is a reduction--it's mostly just the baseline with some notes here and there. she doesn't have a theme yet, but 1:23-1:33 might be something we hear again if/when she gets a track associated with her

EP11: -"nicholas and meryl" is an arrangement of "boy and vash", with erhu echoing vash's leitmotif. I think it's a neat way to show through music that both of them are here because of vash :]

-the tracklist goes slightly out of order at this point for some reason. after "memory retrieval", "memory of geranium" is what plays in the final memory, when nai decapitates rem

EP12: -"memory of rem" is a combination of "childhood memories" and "memory of geranium". "childhood memories" is also found in "knives's piano", which is based on "duet". one fun way of interpreting this is that the "childhood memories" part of the duet is actually from rem, if she was the one who taught the twins how to play piano, which would make "duet" a musical representation of vash and nai's roots (pun intended. sorry). this also suggests nai misses rem, with how often he plays the piano, even if he thinks he hates her.

but "childhood memories" can also simply be seen as a theme that's associated with rem, nai, and vash's brief time together x)

-okay this is the part where I get to rant about "drain arm" because THIS SONG was literally the reason I decided I needed to rewatch stampede. I was listening to "drain arm" a couple weeks after the finale aired and I heard vash's leitmotif near the end and I was like "NO WAY!!!! HOW DID I MISS THAT"

as it turns out, it was cut from episode 12.

:)

not to worry though, I still have plenty to say about it. even if I'm a little disappointed. just. a little.

-> from 1:13-1:25, you can hear vash's leitmotif in the cello. this DID make it into the scene, and it plays when vash rises through the clouds

-> 2:44-3:10 is where some of the lyrics from vocal version of "millions knives" play: "remember how / we used to be / no turning back / sky's (skies??) falling down". although you can't actually hear the "remember how" in "drain arm" (at least not without blasting the song into your ears, which I don't recommend), it starts right when the image of vash and nai sitting in the geodome appears

-> we finally get the plant song at 3:36, when the condensed energy starts to leak out/charge. and then after it fires, but before nai dives into the beam, we hear "I still care for you" (3:44-3:52). and while it's originally from the vocal version of "millions knives", in the context of the scene I think it's a sentiment from both brothers: vash, who pleads for nai to let go and releases the energy away from him; and then knives, desperately reaching for the cube because he believes the success of his plan will ensure his family's (and especially his brother's) safety, the only ones he's ever cared about

in other words: plant song in cello = vash -> "I still care for you" -> continuation of plant song in low brass = knives. they're connected by this single sentence

-> knives's leitmotif (I didn't talk about it because it's only found in songs that signal his appearance, so it's really obvious, but yes he's got one of those) plays at 4:03 for the "nai is dead. you killed him" exchange

-> it goes back to a variation of the plant song at 4:29 (I LOVE the piano at 4:40-4:49 btw. it's so good. I could cry about it. probably)

if you've read my plant song analysis you might be wondering how to tell when it's being associated with the name millions knives instead of the plant race. since we know that a good chunk of the songs in the OST were written like a film score, the visual context (and/or the song titles themselves) can clue you in. "drain arm"'s use of the plant song is meant to highlight that vash and nai aren't human, so it's the latter

-> now here's the part that was removed, probably due to the runtime: vash's leitmotif in the cello again, from 5:03-5:09. if you revisit the part right before nai lets go of the cube, you'll hear that it skips these 6 seconds and goes straight to knives's theme ("but that's the plant song!" yes. we'll get to that in a sec). this missing bit right here?? fucks me up EVERY time. it's the most mournful his leitmotif has ever sounded, appropriately so, and it's absolutely criminal that it wasn't included. especially because knives's theme, the plant song melody, follows it up on violin as the cello continues to play a line in harmony.

and it's knives's theme because in this moment it's about him dying, not the plants. they spent a whole season tricking us into thinking that the plant song was knives's theme, and then they used it to send him off.

-> and then july city explodes o7

as much as I'd love to hear "drain arm" again for another chance to let the weight of vash's motif come through, I think it's too intertwined with this scene to be recycled. like. maaaaaaaybe they could use it for fifth moon if that's supposed to be the climax of the next part but they kinda?? already did the "fire a really big laser at the sky" thing? anyway yeah I'm totally normal about "drain arm". so normal

Extras: -the punisher and the double fangs have these cool sound effects when they transform and it kinda makes me think that their guns are built from lost tech, if the punisher's laser cannon wasn't evidence enough of this

-there's no equivalent of "sound life" in stampede, and I don't think there's going to be one. however, I do think that it would make a lot of sense if rem taught the boys how to play piano, because we could get something like:

-> rem asks vash about the plant song (the memory in ep12) -> she gives the boys piano lessons -> she helps them compose "duet"

-they didn't use "stampede out" for this season but I really hope we'll hear it in the next part. I know it's just a longer version of "escape" but it's a fun song :]

-this is. obvious but you can hear "gate" in "millions knives". no idea if they'll put "gate" into more songs, especially for vash now that he seems to have some control over it

-there's also something kinda fun with key signatures too: -> "millions knives" is in b minor -> vash's leitmotif is in d dorian (of course this changes depending on the key signature of whatever track it's used in) -> "undertaker" is also in d dorian -> I think songs associated with no man's land/humanity are usually in some dorian scale or specifically the key of a minor but this is solely based on jeneora rock since july city had its own unique theme so I'm not totally sure yet. "duet" is in a minor by the way -> "nicholas the punisher" is in d minor. if "undertaker" is tied to humanity (which is tied to vash) then "nicholas the punisher" is linked to the other side: knives, through the EoM. it adds another interesting layer to the contrast between wolfwood's two themes, but I don't consider this to hold any meaning lol -> I WILL say that b minor is the relative minor of D Major, so having knives and vash's songs be written in those keys was likely deliberate. and what makes it really interesting is that to get d dorian, you take a D Major scale and lower the 3rd and 7th notes by a half step

-I'm not 100% sure but I think plucked piano strings were used to create the low, scratchy string sound effect in some of the songs (one example is literally at the beginning of "irritation"). I think it's really cool that piano is everywhere in the soundtrack, but not necessarily by hitting the keys

-I am unbelievably excited for livio's/razlo's themes because they have the opportunity to do some REALLY COOL things with the music for them. we might not get them in part 2 (though I think we will) but whenever it happens I'll be so ready for it >:)

and that's all!! o(-< thank you for reading! if you actually took the time to go through all of this with the soundtrack pulled up, I'm. impressed. i think. anyway I'm a big fan of OSTs with strong storytelling and tristamp's OST is no exception :]

if you've got questions, feel free to ask ^^ I definitely didn't cover everything I just picked out whatever I thought was worth mentioning. which was uhhhh quite a bit x)

(also again if you're interested in reading the plant song analysis I did it's in the replies section of the notes 👍 I recommend reading it on a computer though)

[a-queer-seminarian]

I've been reading up on some of the resources you've provided regarding christian zionism for a while now but apologies that I'm still a little confused here and there.

i have a question, i was wondering what we can say to counter the ,chosen people and promised land, argument because a lot of what counter argument that would be given back is that the bible is absolute, God's word and should not be contended. how do we counter these absolutionist to show that what is happening is wrong but at the same time that we do still respect, love and believe in God?

at some point i do wonder if it is worth fighting it to those who are obviously unwilling to change their stance? and if the energy is better spent elsewhere instead?

To start with your last question, yes, I do think there comes a point when you realize you cannot change someone's mind, and you are wasting time and energy you could better spend elsewhere. (And if this is the kind of person who responds to any argument you could possibly make with "Well this is just what the Bible says," that's always a good clue they probably aren't very open to change.)

My tactic when this happens is to say something like "It's clear you aren't willing to hear another perspective right now, so I am going to end this conversation. But if something happens down the line that makes you more willing to consider my side, hit me up." That way they have somewhere to go if by some miracle they one day want to learn more, but I won't use up all my energy on them now when it's clearly useless.

You may come up with a different tactic, but whatever you want it to be, it's def good to consider it before a situation arises!

That being said, for other folks it is possible to get through!

I answered an ask over on my other blog with suggestions for talking to a friend who takes that "the Bible says Israel is a blessed nation" stance. One thing I suggested was choosing language that frames things as a conversation, not an argument; here's a bit from that pasted here:

For instance, in the scenario where she said “the Bible says we should always stand with Israel,” responding immediately with “no it doesn’t!!” would shut down conversation.

Instead, you might start with open-ended questions the two of you can explore together: “I wonder what the Bible means when it talks about Israel. Would the biblical authors recognize today’s Israel as being the Israel they were talking about? / Is the Israel of today the same as the Israel of the Bible?” “What does it mean to you to ‘stand with Israel’?” “Does that have to require sending them extreme military weapons?”

If they're open to pondering those questions informally together, at some point you might be able to share some further information. I highly recommend Christian Palestinian theologian Mitri Raheb's book Decolonizing Palestine, which includes (mostly in its second half) an interrogation of how people interpret the concept of biblical election or chosenness.

I have a detailed summary of his book at this link; I'll paste the pertinent parts below:

First off, in the book's intro, Raheb notes how conflating Israel the modern state and the "biblical" Israel has been an intentional part of Israeli propoganda since its founding (he explores this further in his history chapters):

“The settler colonial nature of the State of Israel is obvious, and the reality on the ground is crystal clear. The situation is not ‘complicated’ as some claim in order to blur the issue. International law is decisive on this issue, as the many UN resolutions testify. Yet, biblical passages and terms such as ‘divine rights,’ ‘land promise,’ ‘Judea,’ and ‘chosen people’ are constantly repeated to bestow the colonization of Palestine with biblical legitimacy and thus political legality. This terminology is used in church circles, popular events, as well at the highest political levels like the UN Security Council.”

His third chapter hones in on the theme of land — its centrality in scripture, and its centrality in the modern occupation of Palestine. How is this theological theme exploited as ideology? What are some decolonial Palestinian readings? Ultimately, how do we liberate theological minds from their invisible colonization?

Toward a Decolonial Theology of the Land

We need our theology to pay more attention to the geopolitical situation of Palestine, which includes the two hermeneutical keys of the land and the native people

Palestine has always been a land on the margins of three continents and “five regional powers that have determined its fate”; constantly getting pushed and pulled by these greater powers, constantly forced to adjust identity and boundaries within a changing context: “Adjustment, resistance, and liberation from occupation is a connecting thread of Palestine’s history from the second millennium BC until today”

Palestinian Jews have always been part of the native “people of the land” — but settler colonial Zionists are not part of the people of the land; “They are invaders and subcontractors to empires.”

Palestinians today who don’t fit a European framework are silenced, not considered dialogue partners — this includes Muslim Palestinians and Palestinian Christians, along with native, anti-Zionist Jews and Samaritans. But their experiences — “their suffering under occupation, their aspiration for liberation, their struggles and hopes” — are the kinds of voices that the Bible holds: “the Bible is the book that contains these voices, the voices of the colonized, not the colonizers.”

Finally, we get to chapter 4: Chosen People?, which hones in on biblical election and how it “constitutes a theological dilemma for the Palestinian people.” Ultimately he concludes,

“While the original context of chosenness was a feeling of powerlessness in the face of empire, chosenness today must be sited within the context of European nationalism, settler colonialism, and American exceptionalism.”

Raheb reminds us about the four distinct Israels:

The relatively short-lived Northern Kingdom of Israel

Biblical Israel as abstract theological concept describing “God’s people”

“Ancient Israel” as a modern construct “that confuses certain aspects of the biblical story with history, thereby projecting an exclusive ethno-national and religions state into the Bible”

Modern entity called the State of Israel

All these must be distinguished from each other, from Judaism, and people of Jewish faith

General issues with “election”

“Who is elected: individuals, a group of people, a nation? “Israel”? How do we define “Israel”? A race? A religion? A state? The church?”

And what does election mean for the un-elect? - 17th century Jewish philosopher Baruch Spinoza wondered if it even makes sense for God to divinely elect a particular group of people: “Can we, who live in a post-Enlightenment era of human rights and fundamental equality between people, believe in a God who discriminates between people, with some being elected, and others not elected or even some elected to be damned”? .

Palestinians are equated with un-elect biblical peoples — either: - The Philistines, enemies of “Israel” - The cursed Canaanites - Descendants of Ishmael (along with all Arabs), giving them a “lesser theological status” than the descendants of Isaac, i.e. the Israelies

“While some Christians may sympathize with the humanitarian situation of Palestinians, their emotional and theological bond remains with Israel because they are seen as God’s elected people with a unique entitlement.”

Here’s Raheb’s own decolonial perspective on election:

The Bible must be read as story, not history.

“God’s own story cannot be confined to such a short period of the universe’s history or reduced to one region, or, as a matter of fact, to one planet. God’s story is not the exclusive story of people with God.”

The Bible is the story of people with God — particular people with particular cultural and geographic backgrounds

Jews, Christians, and Muslims continue to relate to this particular story, but it’s not self explanatory; it needs to be retold and reinterpreted

We can respect different groups’ experiences of being “chosen” without making these beliefs ideology or treating them as objective facts

The biblical story is particular, but it “made history because of its relevance to the diverse contexts of imperial hegemonic oppression worldwide” — the Bible helps many find meaning in the face of empire - “This is why election can never mean entitlement to a particular land or people” — within scripture, we see that God’s interest is not only with one people.

“[E]lection is God’s business, and no one has a monopoly over it. God’s salvation surpasses all understanding, and God remains the God of surprises that all our theological systems cannot contain.”

Bringing in the geopolitics of the biblical story

“The region of Palestine was too small and lacked the geographical location and resources to develop into an empire;” instead its fate was dictated by the five empires that surrounded it

This peripheral existence is the “background behind the notion of election” — it’s a promise to the disenfranchised and the desperate, those crushed by Empire.

“Election was and will always be a statement of faith; it is solely a promise…to those weak and powerless.”

Later — when the northern region became Samaria and the southern region became Judaea — this notion of election would be weaponized to give one group religious entitlement over the other. .

We must “always keep in mind these two different and opposed religious utilizations of the notion of election: one as a message of hope for the weak and devastated, and one as a tool for religious and national ideology.”

[a-french-coconut]

Drew Tanaka (part 1)

I've already posted some extracts but I wanted to keep writing the fic here (:

A first punch leaves the mirror shattered and her fist bloodied.

There’s a traitor. 

An another one sends flying all the beauty products standing on the shelves of Cabin 10’s bathroom. 

“-Oh my gods, honey, are you crying ? What happened ? 

-Charlie is— oh Drew I… it’s all my fault but he told me he—

-Silena, what happened to Beckendorf ? 

-HE’S DEAD DREW ! He… he blew himself up to sabotage Luke’s armies because someone told him they were coming ! Oh no, hum, forget I said anything sweetheart, okay ? The counsellors are supposed to keep it secret ‘cause we wouldn’t want to cause a panic right ? Hey, Drew ? Are you listening to me ? You can’t tell anyone about this you hear me ?” 

A third punch lands on the wall, bruising severely Drew’s knuckles but the pain is better than what’s she’s been feeling since Silena slipped up. 

There’s a traitor, there’s a fucking traitor who wants them all dead, they killed Beckendorf, they probably killed Lee and Castor and they will kill everyone else if Drew doesn’t find who it is. 

There’s a scorching inferno in her heart. She never suspected she could hate someone she doesn’t know with such passion (oh buy you know them don’t you ? Odds are the traitor already talked with you, laughed with you, trained with you.).

Before she can break her hand landing a fourth punch, someone knock on the door and ask if everything is all right. 

“No” she wants to snarl back, “we are all going to die because of some heartless monster !” 

Instead she just responds with a sharp “everything’s fine, coming out is a few minutes. Can’t a girl finish her makeup in peace for gods’ sake ?”. She hears an offended huff and she knows she’s alone again. 

No matter what other people think, Drew Tanaka is nor heartless nor a bitch. She might lack some basic empathy skills but last time she checks, she’s not responsible for everyone’s feelings just because she’s the daughter of the goddess of Love. Plus, Silena is empathic enough for the both of them. Except that she’s been a mess of tears and chocolate for the last two days and just like that, pure white-hot rage burns from her heart to her veins, a firestorm blazing in her blood and igniting her whole body aflame. 

Drew cares about Silena. She’s the one who welcomed her with a warm smile and chocolate gifted by her father. She’s the one laughed with as she told her stories about Sasha and the one who held her after she saw his headless body on the ground during the Battle of the Labyrinth. She’s the one she yelled at for thinking herself above the Rite of Passage and continuing dating Charles Beckendorf when Drew had to break the heart of his best friend only for him to die two weeks later. Silena is the sister Drew loves and adores, all resentment and bitterness melted away by those blue eyes and kind smile. That means that the bastard who got her boyfriend’s sister killed is going to pay for what he did. 

For Drew is the daughter of Aphrodite Areia, the warlike goddess. 

Every monster and demigod who dare venture in the Midtown Tunnel is shot down by Drew and her siblings. Her arms ache from stringing her bow far too many times and the occasional stab for those getting a little too closer. Love is as compassionate as it is merciless and Drew has no qualms in slitting an enemy’s throat (they will join the other ghosts in her nightmares), not when she hears Silena’s mourning cries in her ears. She wonders where her older sister is right now. The girl disappeared hours ago, going back to Camp to convince Clarisse to come fight with them. She’s sure her sister managed to convince her, the stubborn daughter of war loves Silena as much as she does. She is proven right when she hears whispers of the girl warrior dragging a drakon behind her (she does not know of the blue-eyed girl whose face has been deformed by acid, a silver charm bracelet found on her arm).

The moon slowly bows to the sun as she disappears and the sky turns a bright summer blue. The fight is over for now, the only moment of peace found in death because no one would dare attack when each side recovers their friends and siblings’ corpses from the battleground (not when they could be the next body lying on the ground), ensuring them proper funeral rites. 

part 2 posted !

[scienter]

Oh wow. I have so many thoughts about Wind and Truth chapters 3 & 4.

Who or what the fuck is the Wind? 🤔

“Is the wind a god?” Kaladin asked.

“When this world was created,” Wit said, long before Honor, Cultivation, or Odium arrived, Adonalsium left something behind on it. Sometimes it’s called the Old Magic. Sometimes that term is applied to the Nightwatcher, who came – with Cultivation’s efforts – from one of those ancient spren. Listen to the Wind when it speaks, Kaladin. It’s weaker than it once was, but it has seen so very much.”

Now I just want to go back through the series and note every passage mentioning Kaladin and the wind or a voice in the wind. I know there's a lot of them there.

Also, I've seen people mention this quote from the series:

"We took them in, as commanded by the gods . . . For their betrayal extended even to our gods: to spren, stone, and wind."

 So the wind is . . . a deity?

I kept thinking about Syl's explanation of the wind at the beginning of Oathbringer. She said something about honorspren being connected or related to the wind, and that the wind had been with Kaladin since his childhood. 🤨

So much to think about . . .

“Listen,” Wit said. “Everything you’ve done—Kal, everything you’ve been—has prepared you for what’s next. It’s going to be hard. Fortunately, life has been hard, so you’re working under familiar constraints.”

Kaladin glanced to the side, where Wit was staring off into space, idly spinning the red flute in his fingers. Something in his voice… his face…

“You’re talking,” Kaladin said softly, “as if one of us won’t survive this.”

“I wish I were optimistic enough to think one of us would survive.”

NO, NO, NO! 🙈🙉🙊

I hope to god all the Kaladin-is-going-to die foreshadowing is a red herring. I don't want Kaladin to die an early death. Not after he struggled so much with suicidal ideation. It'd be a shitty end to his story if he dies as a hero/martyr after overcoming his self-destructive impulse to kill himself. Please be a misdirect! 🙏

“Simply trying to give you a proper send-off,” Wit said. “We’re at the end, Kaladin, and you are needed. I want you to march off to your divine destiny with a spring in your step.”

A PROPER SEND-OFF?

A DIVINE DESTINY?

What does that mean!?

Does Kaladin die? 😭🤬

Does Kaladin ascend? 😯🫨

Does Kaladin merge and/or bond with the wind?? 🤔🤯

“You know what first drew me to you, Kaladin?” Wit asked. “You did one of the most difficult things a man can do: you gave yourself a second chance.”

Wit gets it.

“I took that second chance… maybe a third,” Kaladin admitted. “But now what? Who am I without the spear?”

“Won’t it be exciting to find out?” Wit said. “Have you ever wondered who you would be if there was no one you needed to save, no one you needed to kill? You’ve lived for others for so long, Kaladin. What happens when you try living for you?”

Oh, I am SO ready for this next step in Kaladin's journey. I'd love to find out who Kaladin is beyond the battlefield. There is more to Kaladin than just being a soldier or a hero. It's one of the reasons why I want Kaladin to survive this book. I want to see Kaladin living for himself.

And yeah, I need to go back through and give all the wind references another look. I thought it was noteworthy before, but I believed it was just connected to Kaladin being a windrunner. But it looks to be something more than just that. Is it connected to the Stormfather calling Kaladin "Son of Tanavast" or Kaladin's "divine destiny"?

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hey so I've been wondering about inclusivsm vs exclusivism in Christianity and the Bible. I've had more of a inclusivst view before, but I find that there's also a large amount of exclusivism in the Bible. So, I was wondering what you think about it overall? Is it both? Neither? Nothing? One? Anyway, may the Lord be with you always 💛💐

Hi there! I am 100% against exclusivism, and lean towards religious pluralism. For me that means I don't believe that only Christians go to heaven, that Christianity is the only "right" belief system / that Jesus is the only path to the Divine, or that Christians are God's Extra Special Favorites.

When we pray Thy will be done, we look forward to God's will succeeding — and what God wills is abundant life for everyone! Not just for the Right Kind of Christians; not just for all Christians in general; not even just for all human beings; but for all Creation.

There are numberless ways to worship the Divine, to express faith, to glorify our Creator. Wherever there is life, there is Spirit. Wherever there are beings seeking to bring life, Divinity is glorified.

The diversity of faiths is a holy gift that we too often twist into a flaw to be corrected. God shaped humans to need one another — alone, our perspectives and gifts are limited; only together can we hope to come close to understanding the Divine. We have so much to learn from one another — if only let go of our smugness, our sense of superiority, our need to be the ones with All The Answers. If only we let go of the fear we've been taught — fear that we'll go to hell if we're wrong; fear that others will go to hell if they're wrong.

Sorry for waxing poetic lol. Here's a post where I explore inclusivism vs. exclusivism in more depth, including looks at various Bible passages.

Other related things:

Here's a really old post/video that gathers some of my thoughts on inclusivism, salvation, heaven.

Here's a more recent post where I talk about why I don't believe in hell.

My evangelism tag (tl;dr: I'm staunchly against prosletyzing to anyone who doesn't explicitly request more info about Christianity)

I highly recommend the book Holy Envy by Barbara Brown Taylor for a Christian framework for forming respectful, mutual relationships with people of other faiths. This tag has some excerpts from the book.

[jessicalprice]

adventures in christian opinions about judaism

(reposted from Twitter)

So a while back I started writing a thing on the trio of parables that ends with the prodigal son (which I still need to finish) and like MAN OH MAN do Christian commentators insist that Jews hate shepherds.

Like, I can't even count the number of commentaries that insist that shepherds were "despised figures" for first-century Jews and the parables of the lost sheep and lost coin were designed to insult the Pharisees by comparing them first to a shepherd and then to a woman.

So, as is my wont whenever Christian commentators make a claim about what was normal for first-century Judaism, I decided to try to hunt down their source on this.

As I've said many times, when it comes to Christian parable interpreters' claims about what attitudes/beliefs/etc. were normal for first-century Jews, get used to the phrase "no sources are cited."

I mean, first off, as a 21st-century Jew, the insistence that 1st-century Jews hated shepherds rings odd, given that <checks notes> Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Rachel, all of Jacob's kids (the founders of the tribes), David, etc. were all sheep-tenders. The image of God as a shepherd is pretty consistent throughout the Tanakh. That image reappears in the Qumran texts, which as far as I know, are one of the few Jewish sources we have from 1st-century Judaea.

The term "despised" gets used a lot, so I decided to dig into that one.

When I was able to find citations, I traced them back to an 1882 commentary by a guy named Frederic Farrar.

Farrar cites Heinrich Meyer as a source for this, but when I looked up THAT citation, it's Meyer saying that shepherds were a "lowly but patriarchally consecrated class" -- in other words, poor, but with a distinguished history and status.

So that's why everyone's tossing the term "despised" around--because Farrar just made it up. But what about primary sources? I went back on the hunt.

Surprisingly, in a number of reference works, like glossaries and Jeffers's "Greco-Roman World of the New Testament," I found similar assertions about the common attitude toward shepherds, for which they cited...

<drum roll>

Aristotle. You know, the Greek guy who lived 300 years before Jesus? Definitely a reliable source for Jewish attitudes of the time.

Some people cited Philo's On Agriculture. Okay, Philo was at least Jewish and lived when Jesus would have, although he was a wealthy Hellenized Jew living in Alexandria rather than a Pharisee living in the Galilee. But okay, at least it's the right culture and time period. (The reference in Philo turns out to be talking about the section of Genesis in which Joseph's brothers come visit him in Egypt. It talks about how they were proud to be shepherds, and criticizes (gentile) kings who look down on shepherds.)

Then we've got Mishnah Kiddushin, in which a bunch of rabbis are having a debate about which professions make you trustworthy vs untrustworthy, and one rabbi lists everyone from camel-drivers to herders to barbers to shopkeepers as untrustworthy. Another rabbi comes back and is like, nah, all those people are fine upstanding folks; it's doctors and butchers you've gotta watch out for. So they're citing one cranky dude with a LONG list of people he doesn't like, who immediately gets shot down, as evidence of the normative attitude for Jews about a century earlier.

Oh, and we've got a citation of Midrash Tehillim which says that God-as-shepherd doesn't have any of the failings of humans-as-shepherds, which... sure. Also, it was codified in the 1300s?

The most compelling citation is from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 25b), in which the rabbis discuss who's qualified to be a legal witness. They exclude shepherds, because shepherds graze their animals on other people's land, which some of the rabbis see as a type of theft.

The Talmud is a record of debates, but this passage definitely makes it sound like this is a majority opinion. (It should be noted that the passage disqualifies all KINDS of people, from those who lend with interest to those who fly pigeons, as having conflicts of interest.)

But the important thing here is that the Talmud includes records of debates from as late as the 4th or 5th centuries CE (300-400 years after Jesus's time), and the passage makes a point of noting that the disqualification of shepherds as witnesses is a later development.

So in other words, the idea that the Pharisees hated shepherds and would have been insulted by Jesus telling a story in which the protagonist was a shepherd is based either on Greek attitudes that are 300 years too early or Jewish ones that are 300-400 years too late.

But people will twist themselves into citation knots (or just not bother citing a source at all) to insist that this was a common attitude so they can position the Pharisees as hating those charming humble shepherds and their fuzzy little lambs.

As to WHY this idea seems to be so important to them, well, you cannot read about Luke 15 without encountering the word "outcast" roughly 90 times per page.

The framing is Jesus was friend to The Outcasts while the Pharisees despised The Outcasts and the Lost Sheep, Coin, and Sons are all parables about accepting The Outcast.

Never mind that neither the sheep, the coin, nor either of the sons got kicked out of their communities. The sheep wandered off, as sheep are wont to do, the coin was lost by its owner, and the younger son decided to leave to go on a spending spree while the older son declined to attend the welcome back party for him after his dad managed to hire a band and caterers but never thought to let his own son know what was going on and he had to find out from a hired hand.

Moreover, the term "outcasts" gets used as a synonym for "tax collectors and sinners." Tax collectors were usually pretty well-off because they ran a protection racket for the Romans. Outcasts? I mean, I guess? But hardly in the "marginalized and powerless" sense.

As far as "sinners," the NT doesn't usually bother telling us what, exactly, they did to "sin," but on the rare occasions when it does offer that context, it's almost always wealthy people.

But why talk about that when they can present the objection the Pharisees had to Jesus's dining with "tax collectors and sinners" as the Pharisees despising lowly outcasts, and insist that the Pharisees hated the idea of such people repenting and returning, and so Jesus was tweaking their noses by comparing them to shepherds and women.

As if, you know, teshuvah wasn't something the Pharisees were ALL ABOUT. If you want to actually understand, consider that the iconic tax collector in the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector shows no inclination to STOP being a tax collector.

The objection wasn't you're having a friendly dinner with poor lowly outcasts for whom we have contempt. It was you're having a friendly dinner with people who are extorting their neighbors on behalf of the invaders who kill us for looking at them funny and have expressed no intention to stop doing that.

Now, there's a good discussion to be had about whether shunning Trump lawyers and Marjorie Taylor-Greene donors or inviting them to dinner and trying to win them over with compassion is more effective, more ethical, more compassionate (to whom?), etc.

But presumably we can see why people of intelligence and goodwill might disagree on which of those approaches is the right thing to do, and why such people might might object to the strategy they don't agree with.

But what really gets me is that Christians have the utter fucking NERVE to paint the Pharisees as inhumanly awful for not wanting to have dinner with tax collectors while viewing Corinthians as Holy Writ:

I mean, Paul's all YOU MUST SHUN ALCOHOLICS AND PEOPLE WHO ARE GREEDY and Christians are like yes, that makes sense, but if the Pharisees are like, no, I don't want to have dinner with that guy who narced on my cousin and got him crucified, Christians are like, they're monsters.

Cool, cool.

Anyway, this has been your weekly edition of Christians Need To Stop Just Making Shit Up About Jews And Then Citing Each Other Like It's Fact.

And there were a lot of "I've never heard anyone say Jews of Jesus's time hated shepherds..." responses: Maybe you haven't, but that doesn't make it uncommon.

Sources in which I've found it:

Craig Blomberg (Denver Seminary, Society of Biblical Literature, Tyndale House, NIV translation committee)

Jared Wilson (professor at multiple Baptist seminaries)

Stephen Wright (Spurgeon College (British evangelical college))

Arland Hultgren (Luther Seminary (ELCA))

Kenneth Bailey (Presbyterian/Episcopalian)

Joachim Jeremias (Lutheran, cited EVERYWHERE)

Bernard Brandon Scott (Disciples of Christ, the Jesus Seminar)

Klyne Snodgrass (Evangelical Covenant Church)

Barbara Reid (Catholic Biblical Association)

That particular trope spans denominations, decades, etc. It's not a fringe viewpoint.

[nightttoon]

Thomas Hewitt x reader

It's part two. Well... Part one

Warning! gore, blood mentioned, killing mentioned, still no romance. Enjoy!

His house

You don't know how long you've been sleeping. Just like you don't know where you are. Disorientation quickly turned into panic when you realized the sound from which you woke up. Scream. A cry of pain, somewhere nearby. The scream is loud, as if someone is being skinned... And the voice is like Billy's. The hair stood up in horror when the memories of the gas station came flooding back to you.

Trying to sit down, you found that you were tied to the table leg by your hands. And the legs are tied at the ankles. The screams in the background are overlaid by the sounds of a chainsaw. No... No. No! The scream became so loud that you were ready to swear that your eardrums would burst. How painful. It hurts everywhere, but most of all it hurts your wrists, which you desperately pull, trying to break away from the table. The damn table is just shaking.

Then everything stopped. You didn't even realize that you were screaming yourself until that moment. Silence. Like in a cemetery. It was interrupted by light, quick footsteps. To your horror, you realized that the footsteps were approaching you. You didn't want to meet anyone from this damn place.

It would be better if you worked in a damn bar on the edge of town for the rest of your days than what is happening now! Why did you agree to this "journey" at all!?

Tears rolled from your eyes from the memories of your quiet life. Life before you agreed to the trip. Your then-serious problems seem so simple now. You would give anything to relive those worries again, just not what is happening now.

Your hysteria was interrupted by a woman's calm voice and the touch of a wet cool cloth to your forehead.

"Silly, you woken up. You are pale as death, and forehead is cold. And so dirty..."

the woman said, wiping the dirt and blood from your face. She's obviously not young anymore, but she can't be called too old either.

"Thomas treated you carefully. Your friends aren't so lucky," the woman said after finishing washing your face.

What the hell is she talking about?! You no longer have the strength to cry when a woman begins to gently stroke your hair.

"You know.... I've always wanted a daughter," She mumbles, moving her hand to your face to stroke your cheek.

Daughter?! Is she crazy?!

You wanted to keep crying, run as far as possible, wrap yourself in a blanket and believe that it was just a dream. But the pain in your wrists and the reality of her touch confirmed the opposite.

"Behave yourself, and maybe you'll live longer," the woman said, finally pulling away and walking away from you. All you had to do was fight with the ropes on your wrists. But it didn't lead to anything.

Judging by the light from the window, it's been several hours. It's gotten a lot darker, and you're still on the floor, tired of crying. How you hate it.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, making you tense up. God, you're willing to lie on a dirty floor, just not these bastards.

A large dark figure appeared in the passage. It's him... The one they call Thomas.

You were shaking when he started to approach. No... no. It's your turn. Are you really going to die like this?! You don't stand a chance against him. You are hurt and scared by your own weakness.

You wanted to live. You wanted to see a family, maybe get a dog or a child in the future... But right now, you were willing to die quickly, just not to be the next one whose screams would echo throughout the house. And you had a feeling that it was this guy's fault. It's his fault that one of your friends was in pain, and the blood on his apron and hands only confirms this.

Judging by the light from the window, it's been several hours. It's gotten a lot darker, and you're still on the floor, tired of crying. God... How you hate it....

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, making you tense up. God, you're willing to lie on a dirty floor, just not these crazies.

A large dark figure appeared in doors. It's him... The one they call Thomas.

You were shaking when he started to approach. No... no. It's your turn. Are you really going to die like this?! You don't stand a chance against him. You are hurt and scared by your own weakness.

You wanted to live. You wanted to see a family, maybe get a dog or a child in the future... But right now, you were willing to die quickly, just not to be the next one whose screams would echo throughout the house. And you had a feeling that it was this guy's fault. It's his fault that one of your friends was in pain, and the blood on his apron and hands only confirms this.

You froze when Thomas came closer. Your brain and body are so exhausted that you can't kick anymore when the giant unties your hands from the table and throws you over his shoulder. Where is he taking you? Thomas went into the hallway and then up the stairs to the second floor.

He doesn't know why Luda wanted to leave you alive. Yes, you're pretty, you resist a little and cry quietly, without annoying Monty. But why would they need someone else? He himself could help with all the housework, even with the "female" part. And Charlie got angry again. Although he did not argue, Mom's word is the law.

Lying on his shoulder, you hopelessly watch as the front door goes out of sight, being replaced by the floor of the second floor.

Thomas brought you into a room that has a bed, a closet, a small table and a chair. The giant carefully seated your shaking figure on a chair, tying you with ropes.

When he was sure that you were tightly tied to chair, Thomas looked up at you. Your eyes, red with tears, filled with fear and pain, looked at him. Nothing new. You sniff, trying to breathe evenly so as not to burst into tears again. Your skin looks so soft... Thomas raised his hand to stroke your cheek.

You twitched at his touch. Fingers rough from daubs and physical work stroke your cheek, lightly pressing to feel the texture better.

He would give anything to have his face like that. Or so someone's eyes looked at him without fear, with tenderness, like his mother.

He looks at you like a wet kitten that was picked up on the street. Like if he was ready to defend himself at any second, shocked, but so glad that you didn't run away. Not that you can.... Or maybe?

Requests are open! I don't know what to write... :(