#let them take joy where they can holy FUCK they have to survive this world the same as any of us do!

[actiasteeth]

ASKBOX MEME 056 / DAYSPRING

All prompts taken from the novel Dayspring by Anthony Oliviera. Adjust as needed.

"Tell me a story."

"This bedtime story sucks. Tell me a better one."

"You came back."

"Will you come with me?"

"Break my heart as many times as you need to. I am yours."

"That is not my problem. Let me have a little longer."

"Ah, fuck it. Let's do a miracle."

"Okay, but definitely don't tell them where you got this. And if you could not mention me in particular, that would also be super."

"My mind is not what it was. Let me try again."

"And I know now that love sometimes makes a promise it cannot keep."

"Sometimes you must say 'yes' when you mean 'no.' There is a kindness that you never learned in the lie."

"What you ask for you will get. What you look for you will find."

"What if we ran?"

"What would it profit a man to lose his soul just to save some petty world?"

"We run. If they kill us, they kill us, but we run now."

"I have loved you more than I have loved anything. You can't forget."

"Look, here. Ascend and transcend all you like; this is the wound that will not close."

"How is it that they could kill him, but I am what died?"

"God always gives us more than we can handle."

"Love is what ruins. Love is what costs."

"Where you go, I will go. And where you stay, I will stay."

"Love is as strong as death, passion fierce as the grave."

"I am lost. But even in the wilderness, I would know you."

"What kind of God would let a world come to this?"

"Do a little evil to do a greater good."

"I was utterly lost. I was utterly yours."

"It is not reasonable. Let us, then, be the end of reason."

"Are you the one we have been waiting for?"

"Sometimes I am scared of forgetting the sound of you."

"Among the first things they learn of God is that his rage is inexhaustible."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me."

"Where is your faith?"

"Grace isn't just. That is the point of grace."

"If you could see the way out, it wouldn't be much of a miracle."

"God, look at you. You're disgusting."

"Surviving is easy. It's the other thing that's hard."

"Nothing is housed in churches and temples and holy places that is not housed in you."

"Why do you fear those who can only kill your body and after this are powerless?"

"This is how you treat your friends."

"You move, as ever, in mysterious ways."

"Resurrection leaves its scars."

"I am who you say I am."

"I have not had much use for gods of any kind."

"Maybe I will let you wait for me this time."

"I've never been in a proper fight before. Does a beating count as a fight?"

"Please, I know another bottom when I see one."

"I can tell you're going to be the one that's a problem."

"We know what we are, but not what we may be."

"Please do not ask me stupid fucking questions."

"Before you try to kill the king, make sure your sword is sharp."

"I never knew you as anything except an operative of cruelty."

"Your life served your own malice and not me at all."

"How can I unless someone teaches me?"

"To know the world but not yourself is to know nothing at all."

"Do not try that one on me. I was there, remember? I remember."

"Accident or sorrow? Despair or joy? How strange: that they should look, in the end, so completely the same."

"Honestly, I would rather you not mention this to anybody."

"The world costs nothing except your soul, but there are no returns."

"To follow me is to set your teeth upon the curb."

"But patience and nuance were never really your strong suit."

"I wanted to see you."

"How come you never kiss me when we're awake?"

"If even God can die then death is no indignity."

"If even God can love then love can be no sin."

"This is not a place of honour. No gods live here."

"If I lost you, there is nowhere I wouldn't look."

"There was a time you knew every inch of me."

"Someday there will be happiness again and a joy that none can take from us."

"How long must I wait for you?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Are you— you're not trying to get rid of me."

"This isn't going to end well. For me, for any of us."

"I don't mind dying. I was born to die. But you—"

"You can't protect me from the world."

"That's really not how this works."

"I only ever make you sad."

"It's never going to be the happy ending you want. You know that."

"You could come. You could forget about all this and be with me."

"Let there be no longer any secret what you do to me."

"Would you rather be forgotten or hatefully remembered?"

"Let them hate me all they want. But you and I know the truth."

"It's only death, that's all. What is that to love?"

"Wait. If this is the last, if this is the end, I don't know how to say goodbye to you."

[elvencantation]

everything everywhere all at once liveblog

okay i know she’s supposed to be evil and shit but JOY IS SO DAMN COOL AND HOT AND WOW. GODAMN

i love that she’s just straight up discovering weird ass new universes. rly don’t like the hot dogs for fingers tho everything on a bagel?? are you kidding me?

evil joy is too hot and that’s really not fair

the bagel cgi is cool too

poor this universe joy. yeah she’s not gonna be able to stab her is she

OMG YES RAPID JUMPS

WAIT THE GRANDAD IS NOW SENDING PEOPLE AFTER HER

juju chewbacca 😂

glad she’s having this convo with joy but shit

OMG THE BLIND JUMP AND THE SINGER FOR LUNG CAPACITY YES

GOD I LOVE HOW SHES COMBINING THESE RANDOM ASS SKILLS

WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS THIS LADY USING HER DOG AS A FUCKING BOLA?? not the right term but i cant remember it rn

is joy the key to defeating alpha joy?

god that would be so lovely if healing her relationship with joy in this horrible universe helped solve the problem

i love that her world saving skill in this case is thinking of weird ass random shit. i could probably do that. wouldn’t look as cute tho 😂

i hate this butt joke like. cant you take it out pls? for me personally cause it’s apparently a squick? thank you

NO NOT LIKE THAT

wait so they can only access the skills as long as they’re connected to that universe? how’d she combine them all with the shield fight then? or was it cause she fractured

oh no oh no she’s gonna kill alpha waymond fuck fuck FUCK

what is HAPPENING

is she stuck in another evelyn?

oh no the secondhand embarrassment of her messing up other universes

wait did she go back??

BRING ME BACK TO WUXIA UNIVERSE I LIKE THE OUTFITS

omg the creativity of putting them in her drawing??? HER MIND

oh it’s the weird white universe again

“the bagel will show you the true nature of things” GOD HOW DID SHE SAY THAT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE. ACTING

it’s probably a testament to the writing and acting that i actually kinda feel bad for hot dog Deirdre

also i know it’s bad that she’s fucking everything up but it’s such a cool sequence and joy’s face is fascinating to watch

okay now i wanna slow down that clip and see all the other universes!!!

if i was a rock would you still love me?

hmmm i’m a bit sad i didn’t hear their voices but i get the point

this is making me feel shrimp feelings. also i think i’m getting a headache. that’s probably just cause of not really having dinner and being on a plane 😂

YES YES WAYMOND IS GONNA BRING HER BACK I KNEW IT

oh no i forgot she stabbed him in the og universe fuck im gonna cry. and he’s still defending her

FUCK ITS NOT YOUR FAULT. YOURE THE ONE WHOS GONNA FIX IT

THIS WAYMOND BETTER SURVIVE OR ILL FUCKING RIOT

oh no she’s gonna kill waymond isn’t she. please don’t

WAIT WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED

why is the bagel here? and where did it go?

YES HUG DEIRDRE. ALL THE HUGS
god every moment i’m afraid of totally devastating tragedy. see what cdramas done to me??

YES PUT UR HUSBANDS GOOGLY EYE ON UR FOREHEAD DO IT

yess be the chaotic good to her chaotic evil!!

THERE ARE NO RULES. IM GONNA GET YOU. OMG THATS SO CUTE HELP

“i’m learning to fight like you” god now i’m gonna cry again

this is all so ridiculous i can’t. i love it. she’s finding these things from their lives- the things that make them who they are. what is in common in most if not all of the universes. this is really similar to my own concept of self god i love it i cant

oh god she’s racacoonie

don’t let her go

oh god it’s all between the three of them isn’t it. fuck

god the music is all so good and so eerie

holy SHIT THE ‘I AM YOUR MOTHER’ TIMED WITH THE SWITCHES AND MUSIC

wait WHAT. PLEASE TELL ME THE BAGEL LIKE SECRETLY UNDOES THE JUMP STUFF

god joy don’t cry i’ll just be crying with you and that won’t help my headache

god becky is so sweet help i cant. her smile!!!! fuck

oh god for some reason then hugging as two planets collide absolutely fucking ended me

yes yes yes. the other side of nothing matter is why not do the things that make your life and others lives better? why not be the one thing that matters to that person?

BECKY. IS. SO. FUCKING. PRECIOUS. as is waymond obvi

wait the end confused me. but i do like that she didn’t just pretend that she heard. oh like it’s gonna still be there in her metaphorical peripheral vision?

okay so watching prince of egypt wasn’t the best idea if i wanted not to cry again. time for my all time favorite- jupiter ascending

[punkrockmads]

Found Family

Abby Anderson x F! Reader Mini Series

FINAL CHAPTER

Song Used: Dear One, Mary Lambert

Chapter Fourteen; Dear One

*TWO YEARS OLD*

"I look ridiculous." I groan, adjusting the pale blue dress Kayla had helped me fix up a few weeks ago.

"You look beautiful." Kayla assures, running her hands down the lacy sides to smooth them out. I look at myself in the mirror. I have to admit, the dress is very beautiful. A beautiful ruffled skirt and rose patterned lace sides and metal buttons along the back, all a soft periwinkle color. I even let Kayla put a small braid in my hair on the right side, tucking it as well as the rest of my hair behind my ear. Kayla stands beside me, pulling me into a hug. "This dress really suits you." She says.

"I never thought I'd be getting married." I say with a nervous laugh. "I didn't think weddings were still a thing after the outbreak."

"Yet here you are." Kayla smiles. "You're about to marry the love of your life." I smile, feeling my hands shake.

"I'm nervous. Why am I nervous?!" I laugh. "I shouldn't be nervous!"

"Awww!" Kayla chuckles. "You're just excited! It's adorable!" She fixes her hair, loose strands of red falling out of her ponytail. The pink sundress she wears is the same style as the small white one she found for Evangeline.

"I can't wait to see Abby." I sigh, hugging Kayla. "Thank you for everything. You've planned an amazing wedding, Kayla."

"I'm your best friend!" Kayla smiles. "It's my job!" A knock at the office door pulls our attention toward it. Lev stands there wearing the same suit he wore when Evangeline was born. Kayla fixed it up so it would fit him better, seeing as it was too long in the first place.

"Y/N!" Lev smiles, running up and hugging me. "I'm here to walk you down the aisle!"

"Oh God it's already time?!" I feel my heart race in my chest, reaching into my pocket for the yellow paper I had written my vows on months ago. "Okay okay. Let me just go over these one more time."

"Nope!" Lev links his left arm with my right. "We're going now!" I turn around to look at Kayla. She gives me a warm smile, grabbing a bouquet Evangeline had helped her make.

"I'll see you out there!" Kayla whispers, hugging me tightly before walking out the door and around the corner.

"Lev." I mumble, staring straight ahead as I slowly walk with him out the door. "I'm terrified."

"Don't be." Lev says, squeezing my hand. "Remember, it's about you and Abby. Everyone who's here is here because they love you guys. They support you. You and Abby are the only people that matter right now, so just pretend it's only the two of you in this church."

"You're right." I nod, taking a deep breath. The music gets louder as we walk closer to the doors of the main room. She Keeps Me Warm by Mary Lambert. A song Abby and I have slow danced to a million times. "Thank you, Lev."

"You're welcome." Lev says as we stop right before the doors. "Ready?" I nod again, pushing the doors open and walking in with Lev. The flower petals Evangeline had thrown earlier litter the dark wooden floor. All of our friends and neighbors turn to watch. I can feel their stares, but the only stare that matters to me in this moment is Abby's. Her eyes are locked on mine, a huge smile on her face. I feel myself tear up, seeing how beautiful she looks. She decided to wear a suit that matches Lev's. It fits her perfectly, making her look like as incredible as a marble statue. A tear falls down my cheek as Lev lets go of my arm, standing me right in front of Abby. I take her hands in mine.

"You look beautiful." Abby whispers, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"You should see yourself." I whisper back, laughing quietly.

"Mommy!" A familiar squeaky voice calls from the front row. Evangeline wriggles her way out of the arms of Kayla's little sister, running towards me as the crowd laughs. I bend down and open my arms for her as she runs into them. I lift her up, holding her close as Abby and I pepper her face with kisses. "Can I stay?" Evangeline asks, wanting to stay close by her moms.

"Yes you can." I nod, smiling as I set her down by my feet. She sits cross legged beside me, watching as Abby and I listen to Kayla's mother, Eileen, speak a bit about the two of us. I can't tear my eyes away from Abby's, feeling so safe and at home here with her. The whole world seems to disappear when I look at her. I don't even notice Eileen say it's time for vows until Abby lets go of my hands, pulling a piece of notebook paper out of her pocket.

"Okay." Abby sighs, her hands shaking. "Y/N..." She looks at me with so much love and joy. "When we first met, you were floating down a river trying to figure out how the hell you were going to survive. And when I saved you, you threatened me. Even though you had no weapons and you looked like a half-dead drowned rat." Abby and I laugh at the memory. "That's when I realized 'Oh fuck, I'm falling in love!' Then you trusted me, you came home with me and let me give you safety and food and comfort. It kinda felt like bring a wild animal into my home for the first time."

Abby's chuckle is cut off by a sniffle. "When you woke up screaming one night after a nightmare and asked me to stay with you, I knew I wanted to protect you and do anything I possibly could to make you happy and give you the life you deserve just like you've done for me. You've been through so much and you're still the strongest woman I've ever known. You gave me your heart. You've shown me a love I never thought I deserved until I met you. Fuck, you even gave me my own family! I wanna spend the rest of my life loving you and treasuring every single moment I have with you and our family. I love you so much." Abby wipes her tears away as I reach into my pocket for my vows.

I wipe my own tears away as I look at my writing. "Well." I pause, chuckling a bit. "I mean how the hell am I gonna top that?" The guests and Abby laugh at me as I take a deep breath. "I'm not great with words or romance... or people, really. But, when I met you, I felt this comfort and love I had never felt before and it made me want to try to love people again. When I told you about my past, you didn't judge me. You supported me every step of the way and stepped in to raise Evangeline as our baby. You are my angel. You are my savior. I..." I sniffle, wiping away more tears. "I should probably get to the vows before I start sobbing." I laugh. "Abby and I fell in love with Mary Lambert's music after I forced her to listen to it with me and... one of her songs has always stuck with me and made me think of her. So... Abby, I'm gonna use it as my vows to you, if that's okay." Abby laughs quietly, nodding and urging me to continue.

I take a deep breath. "Where did you come from, bright star? What heaven did you leap from, dear love? How can I say your name without the sound of Autumn underneath my tongue? Without acknowledging the lovers who bent me in half? Bless them for bringing me to you. How can I say your name without also breathing the words 'My God, I found you!'" I pause, taking a deep breath as I feel tears pour down my cheeks. "How can I ever speak again with this mouth when it has found where it belongs? When you touch me, I am a bed of calla lillies. I will make a house for you and fill it with evergreens. I will paint sunsets on every wall so you can only see beautiful things." Abby watches me, sobbing quietly as her smile grows even bigger.

"How can I say 'love' without wanting to fold myself into you like a thousand paper cranes. Dear one, I was halved the moment I was born. The other piece of me is inside of your mouth. And I was found whole the moment you spoke." Every single eye in the room is teary, Abby full on sobbing as I pull her in for a tight hug. She hugs back, whispering 'I love you' over and over into my hair as she holds me in her arms.

"That was absolutely beautiful." Eileen says to us, wiping a few of her own tears away. "Now. If there are no objections, let's continue. Abigail, do you take Y/N to be your wife, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Abby pulls away, locking eyes with me as she squeezes my hands. "I do." She nods, smiling at me. Her eyes shimmer, full of pure love.

"And Y/N..." Eileen pauses. "Do you take Abigail to be your wife, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

"Damn right, I do!" I grin, squeezing Abby's hands as I nod at her.

"By the power vested in me. I now pronounce you, Mrs. And Mrs. Anderson. You may kiss." I waste no time grabbing Abby by her shirt collar and pulling her in for a long, passionate kiss. She immediately kisses back, her arms wrapping around me as the guests cheer. We pull away once our lungs are screaming for air, pressing our foreheads together.

"Holy shit." I whisper, chuckling with Abby as I look into her beautiful hazel eyes.

"Holy shit." Abby repeats, laughing harder. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too." I reply, kissing her once more. We pull away in surprise when Lev yells.

"Party time!!" Lev cheers, waving his hands in the air. He runs towards us, wrapping his arms around both of us as I pick up a giggling Evangeline. Kayla follows close behind.

"Group hug!!" Kayla yells, squeezing us. I wrap an arm around Abby, resting my forehead against hers once more.

"I love you guys so much." I smile, finding comfort in the arms of my loved ones. Abby gently puts a hand on the back of my neck, gently guiding me up for one more kiss. I let my eyes fall shut.

"We finally made that last name official." Abby smiles against my lips once we pull away.

"Yeah." I hum. "We finally did."

END

[goji-pilled]

Okay @princekirijo you want an essay? Well here it is now, or as I like to call it Felix's "Asumari is great and this fandom has no fucking taste" rambling and infodump. Congrats fellas, thanks to Prince you ALL get an asumari essay. But before that I'll try to give you a rundown of Mari and Asuka. 

(I'm also so sorry for putting this long ass post on everyone's dashboard)

(Spoiler warning for Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time!!)

Alright on one hand we have Mari Illustrious Makinami. Her whole deal? She's a walking ray of sunshine, literally lol. Unlike any other character in the Evangelion franchise she doesn't suffer from her trauma, she's quite literally the only healthy and functioning human being, she's just slightly leaning towards "batshit crazy" with the stunts she pulls 🤷‍♂️. Other than that she just loves living, she loves being with people, she keeps moving forward, stays positive and decides to live life to it's fullest even after she experiences loss and multiple apocalyptic events (Second Impact, Third Impact, etc.) and she really just embodies the joy of living. That's all there is to her, or at least all we know.

On the other hand, we have Asuka Langley Shikinami who is... well it's hard to explain what she is to be honest. She's part-German and part-Japanese and part of a line of clones specifically made with the purpose to pilot an Evangelion and later on be used as a sacrifice to trigger another Impact (ITS COMPLICATED I KNOW-) Asuka is, unlike Mari, very much suffering from her trauma. She doesn't have her parents and has a very deep seated belief that she's completely alone, which she says doesn't matter as long as she can pilot the Eva. She also very much wants to fight and kill angels all by herself, and it's seriously messing with her when she can't achieve that.

Now we get to the more interesting parts (hopefully this so far wasn't too confusing, then again it's Eva and even I can't fully wrap my head around it all LMAO)

In the second Rebuild movie (Evangelion 2.0 You can (not) advance) we get introduced to both of them, Mari's introduction scene (in the original English dub) has her pilot an Eva and singing about how she'll take the world on by herself, while in the third movie's (Evangelion 3.0 You can (not) redo) opening scene she's piloting the Eva again but this time it's together with Asuka (in her own Unit 02 though) and during that Mari sings about how wonderful it is not to be alone. It's nothing big yet, but it's a really cute detail me thinks,,, you know what else I love about them? They bicker and they banter and it's genuinely so fun to listen to shskdhsuwj

(For a quick catch up: During the end of 2.0 Shinji (the protagonist) triggers another apocalyptic event, the Near Third Impact, and was only stopped due to Kaworu (the guy in my pfp) stepping in. Also between 1.0/2.0 and 3.0/3.0+1.0 are about 14 years (without Shinji bc he's like comatose) where A LOT happens AND we learn in 3.0 that Eva pilots don't age physically bc of "The curse of the Eva"... honestly Eva is wild lmao)

Okay okay I'll get back to it!

So one thing that happens is that Asuka during 2.0 develops a crush on Shinji (girl why-), unfortunately things take a turn for the worse. Asuka had volunteered to be the testpilot for a new Eva (Unit 03), she seemed happy at the time and it was a really sweet build up with the "I can smile, I didn't know I could still do that."-line. And then? Then it turns out the Ninth Angel had infected Unit 03 (Angels are basically the Kaijus they fight using Evas btw). The thing goes on a loose and Shinji is forced to fight it (With Asuka inside mind you), he refuses and his father uses an autopilot to destroy Unit 03. And boy did it destroy the angel, well it and it crushed Asuka between its jaws (you can actually hear her scream btw haha pain :)).

Asuka survived though, but the whole incident cost her her humanity and she ended up becoming an angel herself/she took the place of the Ninth. But despite that, there's one person who keeps believing in Asuka's humanity, who fiercely believes Asuka is still a human and tells her as much.

Yep, that one person is Mari and she keeps holding onto that belief until the very end when Asuka uses her last resort, which is using the power of an angel (Doing so was a guaranteed death sentence btw). Mari's own words (in the German dub) were, "Princess, you're giving up being human…" AND IT MAKES ME SO EMO GOD FUCK

While I'm at it, Mari and Asuka are a fucking killer combo as a team. They rely on each other for support in combat, listen to the other's orders and advice. Especially in Asuka's case it's kind of a big deal that she so openly relies and counts on Mari's support. Like these two trust each other with their damn lifes!!! Holy shit!!

Guess what though, they also have nicknames for eachother. Mari always calls Asuka "Princess" or "(Your) Highness" while Asuka calles Mari "Four-eyes" / "Four-eyed chrony (idk how you spell that tbh RIP" Even better though, in the German dub Asuka calls Mari "Brillerella" as in a combination of "Brille" (German for glasses) and "Cinderella",,,,Cinderella and her Prince,,,Brillerella and her Princess,,, man, that was a gay fucking move of the translation team. Spoiler: I owe them my life.

Funfact: There's exactly two times throughout the Rebuild movies where Mari uses Asuka's actual name. These two times being when she watches Asuka "die" and be used as a sacrifice for Gendo's selfish plan and when later on she begs Shinji, "So please the Princess… Asuka needs your help!" And the best part? That wasn't even the first time she did that. The mentioned line came from 3.0+1.0, but she did that too in 3.0 with the, "At least save the Princess!" line (although her tone was much more...pissed, like she was really angry lol)

Remember the crush Asuka had on Shinji? Well due to the Unit 03 incident a whole lot of other shit got mixed into that and her feelings for him in general became really bitter (understandably so). Now Mari being who she is sometimes teases Asuka about said old crush but she really does want Asuka to get closure and sort that mess out. 

As an example for the teasing, in 3.0 there's a scene that goes like this (please imagine Mari with a literal :3 face while saying that):

"Unit! Are you back in the game?"

"I'm on it, your Highness. But first things first, how was our little puppy (Shinji)? Did he sit like a good little boy?"

"He's exactly the same! Same stupid face talking mayhem!"

"That goofy face of his, that's what you wanted to see? Riiiiight?"

"Shut up! I went there to bat him one!... And I feel better!"

There's also a very short bonus manga that was released in Japan for Thrice Upon a Time's release that has Mari trying to convince Asuka to come with her on the mission to get Shinji, given everything that follows, it's just another thing to prove my point. And the final bit relating to that is this:

"Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I do feel better."

That's the exchange Asuka and Mari have after they talked to Shinji, it's nothing special but I think it's really sweet and this time Asuka actually sounded like she was feeling better instead of when she was screaming after she nearly broke pretty thick glass with her fist (If she had hit someone with that much force she definitely would've broken something omggg #violentimpulsesgang)

To get back on track though: I already mentioned it but during the second half of 3.0+1.0 Asuka "dies" (and honestly that entire scene is worth its own in-depth post because its just one huge parallel to The End of Evangelion), the point is: You can tell that the loss of Asuka honestly hits Mari hard. Not only because of how Mari screams Asuka's name but also because of her expressions. They're pained, like really fucking pained and Mari even apologizes to her that she has to fall back due to the fact that she's injured AND because eveything is going wrong.

After the events of Evangelion 3.0 these two got seperated from eachother, Mari was with WILLE (the organization both of them are with) and on board of Wunder (the ship WILLE basically operates from) while Asuka was in a Village full of (Near) Third Impact Survivors. When they do meet again it went like this:

Asuka, barely back, comes to the door and calls, "I'm back." And within seconds of Asuka stepping into their room after the door opens Mari already runs towards her, arms wide open and she says, "Welcome back, your Highness! Good job. I missed you so much!" And she says that while she literally nuzzles into Asuka,,,like,,,what the fuck gay people real!!! 

Best part? Asuka clearly has enough strength to push Mari completely away if she were uncomfortable, but she doesn't. Asuka merely wanted enough space to look at the room (because Mari managed to horde even more books lol) and play her game. During their entire renunion Mari keeps hugging her, and part of me thinks that perhaps deep down Asuka actually enjoys the feeling of physical affection.

Before we get to the last point though, let me say that Asuka and Mari have scenes in 3.0+1.0 that parallel Shinji and Kaworu's from 3.0. (Fyi Kaworu loves Shinji (yeah, like that, and 3.0 was basically them being gay as fuck for an hour) so like...do I even need to explain? 

And then of course there's also this, the "Take care of yourself, Princess…" line. That is the last time Mari talks to Asuka and as much as that line alone already is so much, it's Mari's expression in particular that kills me. Because this? This soft, almost bittersweet expression she has, as she basically says goodbye? Because she knows Asuka will finally be happy and safe? It just makes me feel so much actually. Man.

In the end it's a fact that Mari loved Asuka, wether that is interpreted as platonic or romantic by someone is up to them. But it is a fact that Asuka was loved enough that someone wanted to hug her, was happy to see her, to praise her, was hurt by her loss, wanted her to be safe, that someone told her "Take care of yourself…" Asuka was really and honestly so loved that someone would tell her, "I missed you."

But Asuka? Asuka was too hurt, too wrapped up in her own head to actually see how loved she was by Mari (and other people) that she genuinely believed she's completely alone and always will be alone.

It makes the "Take care of yourself" line hit even harder to me, because it's not only Mari's goodbye, but it's a goodbye during the one time Asuka allowed herself to be vulnerable and admit what she really wanted.

And honestly? All of this? Its makes me feel so many things and I just love them  so much man.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 

Literal Stand-Up Meeting 

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 295: So How Are You Holding Up (Because I’m a Potato)

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi randomly and graciously decided to answer all of our long-standing questions about Mr. Compress, including “is he secretly hot,” “is he secretly related to that Robin Hood thief guy,” and “is he ever going to use his quirk to chain chomp a hole right through his ass??” with the answer to all three being “yes, of course.” As for our follow-up questions, “sir, is Mr. Compress going to die,” and “holy shit,” his answers were, respectively, “wait and see,” and, “I understand, really I do, but that isn’t actually a question.” Well, he’s got us there.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi finally ends the War arc with the speed and grace of an overworked college student scrambling to BS their entire midterm essay with five minutes left before the deadline. Deku’s Spidey Sense is all “what up, I exist, p.s. you’re in danger kid” like oh shit, no, you think?? Compress is all “I’m not gonna die but I am going to pass out and be captured” and honestly, at this point I’ll take it. Spinner is all “Tomura you can have this one last Souvenir Hand I found that was in the oven for too long” and slaps it on his face because HE’S JUST TRYING TO BE HELPFUL, SHUT UP. Dabi is all, “[currently in a marble].”Tomura is all “actually, I’m AFO.” AFO is all “hahahahaha” and summons all of the remaining Noumus to cart him and Spinner and Dabi off to safety. Deku is all “DAMMIT TOMURA I’M REALLY MAD AT YOU FOR KILLING, AND I QUOTE, ‘AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE’, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, GET THIS, I TOTALLY WANT TO SAVE YOU TOO! LMAO ISN’T THAT WILD.” Fandom is all “OH MY GOD, NO WAY, is what we would say if we had literally never met Deku before, I guess.” And then the arc just ends, lol. See you in the new year, kids.

WAKE UP, LINK... I MEAN, DEKU

jesus christ Vestiges, not a one of you guys has got any chill at ALL. LISTEN TO ME. THIS CHILD IS DEAD. HE IS DECEASED. LOOK AT HIM. HE’S LYING THERE ALL DAZED WITH HIS ARMS AND LEGS TURNED INTO GREEN PUDDING AND YOU’RE ALL “GET UP LAZYBONES” LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD. CAN HE JUST REST?? CAN YOU ALL JUST CALL IT A DRAW WITH THE VILLAINS ALREADY SO WE CAN FINALLY END THIS TRAUMATIC ARC AND MOVE ON TO THE NEW “TRIAGE AND ROBOT LIMBS FOR EVERYBODY” ARC INSTEAD

LIE BACK DOWN YOU IDIOT!!

no you didn’t pass out because of a ~heatwave~, you passed out because he set you on fire while you were out here shooting Blackwhip out of your mouth with your SPINDLY ACCORDION LIMBS dangling uselessly from you like WINDCHIMES you RIDICULOUS BOY

“where’s Todoroki-kun” oh shiiiiiiit. right. god I hope someone caught him. BAKUGOU OWES HIM A FAVOR, HOW ‘BOUT IT

OH NEVER MIND HE APPARENTLY CAUGHT HIMSELF??

Todoroki Shouto has really highkey been the MVP of the entire fourth quarter of this arc. he deserves the world, and odds are all Horikoshi’s going to give him are lasting trauma, and a souvenir shirt that says “I survived this stupid arc and all I got was this t-shirt”

anyway now Deku’s being hit by a Lightning Bolt of Realization or some such? idk what’s going on, but I bet you it’s related to Tomura waking up again

OH SHIT??

LOL WHAT. THAT’S IT?? SPIDEY-SENSE?? I mean we all predicted Spidey-Sense being one of his quirks like ages ago, so Well Done, Us, I guess

but also, seriously?? all of that drama and intrigue about the fourth user’s quirk and this is what we end up with? what was All Might being so cagey about then? how did this dude die? I need answers goddammit. new, better answers lol

maybe it’s something to do with the fact that Deku keeps talking about how his head hurts?

I mean, for Deku of all people to be all “ouch that hurts”, it must really fucking hurt, you know? like oh my god Deku are you dying

lmao and SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO APPARENTLY DON’T FEEL PAIN

this man is out here FROLICKING, half-naked and half-torsoed, AND STILL FEVERISHLY RATTLING OFF HIS MONOLGOUE. YOU HAVEN’T EVEN ESCAPED YET YOU DINGUS. did watching Dabi pour bleach over his head inspire you to think of interesting new ways you could abuse your own body for the sake of Theatrics?? why are villains Like This

anyway so now Mirio’s punching him, because what else are you even supposed to do in this situation

I read this speech bubble three times in a row very carefully this time around just to make sure I was reading the words right. and then looked for a T/L note below. and there was none. whatever RHA, at least you all are out here enjoying yourselves

wait what?

I guess he hasn’t woken up yet after all?? so then wtf is Deku’s Spidey Sense getting all worked up about. I mean to be fair there’s danger all around them still so having a Spidey Sense in this kind of situation is kind of like bringing a smoke alarm to a BBQ

now what

wait did he put them back in the marble?? or is that panel just meant to show us how they were in the marble earlier?? Horikoshi please make this less confusing, I’m already having trouble staying focused as it is. and on top of everything else Compress is cascading blood like Niagara Falls right now and I’m starting to wonder if you really are going to kill him off

anyway so Mirio is still in mid-punch, and now he’s reaching out to punch Spinner with his other hand. heh. Mirio please be careful Tomura is right there, and I swear to god Horikoshi IF HE LAYS A HAND ON HIS SWIRLY BLOND HEAD SO HELP ME I WILL MAIL YOU A VIAL OF MY TEARS

okay seriously what the hell is happening

when you attach?? everyone?? to your body?? whose body?? who is this??

oh wait okay it’s a flashback to Tomura talking about his Hands

lmao this is so disjointed, I can’t tell what’s a flashback and what isn’t and whose thoughts these are lmao I give up. I’m just going to fire up a bunch of question marks until this starts making some goddamn sense. ???????

??????

????????

-- !!!!!!!!!!!

okay hold up. so did Spinner just slap Tomura’s last remaining Signature Fashion Hand onto his face just now for absolutely no reason?? is that what’s going on?? and fuck me but it actually worked too, lmao. is your buddy unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli?? no problem, just slap ‘em in the face with a burnt and shriveled severed hand. works every time

p.s. I SWEAR TO GOD HORIKOSHI. IF YOU TOUCH MIRIO!!! HE’S A GOOD BOY LEAVE HIM ALONE

??????????

OKAY WELL. I STILL HAVE NO IDEA WTF IS HAPPENING, BUT AT LEAST MIRIO’S NOT DEAD. KACCHAN GOT BLOWN AWAY THOUGH SOB. HOW IRONIC THAT THE GOD OF EXPLOSION MURDERS WOULD BE MURDERED BY AN EXPLOSION WHILE I WAS BUSY SAYING “OH MY GOD”

ohhhhhh, okay. so this is AFO’s narration

and that’s a partial answer to the question of “why did AFO bother raising Tomura up as his heir if he was planning on taking over his body the whole time.” apparently it makes it easier to control him. joy :’)

also this image of a potato wearing a Tomura wig is sending me fjkllkhl

oh my god he summoned all the Noumu to him like Aquaman and his sea creatures. this whole situation just keeps on getting better

-- oh hell no. oh fuck me, fucking shit

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I’M SORRY SPINNER, TOMURA CAN’T COME TO THE PHONE RIGHT NOW

oh my god. I fucking hate everything right now oh my god

I GUESS WE FIGURED OUT WHAT DEKU’S SPIDEY SENSE WAS WARNING HIM ABOUT, THEN ಠ_ಠ

fucking great!! so I guess nobody is getting a happy ending today, then. the heroes got their asses handed to them (sorry Compress, it’s a figure of speech, didn’t mean to be disrespectful); Deku and Kacchan died; Shouto’s evil brother came back from the dead to ruin his life; everyone and their dog lost various limbs; and the villains have now lost Twice (dead), Compress and Machia (presumably going to be captured), and now their fearless leader’s body has been completely taken over by AFO, which is such an unsexy development that it managed to completely undo all of the Mr. Compress Sexiness from last week. goddamn it

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO END IT LIKE THIS

up close Hadou’s face is looking pretty rough. :/ that’s going to scar over isn’t it. at least she’ll look like a badass

meanwhile I appreciate that Horikoshi drew what looks to be a little puff of air next to Kacchan’s mouth, just to reassure us all that he’s not actually dead. that’s fine. you just lie there then. also his wound really is in the exact same place as All Might’s and it’s giving me all kinds of feels you guys but whatever I’m not gonna sit here dwelling on it all day

AND POOR SHOUTO. IS HE STILL CRYING OMG. AND ENDEAVOR, WAY TO DO NOTHING STILL. THE ALL TIME CHAMP OF SITTING AROUND AND STARING, GOOD FOR YOU

ARE YOU FOR REAL, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

(－‸ლ)

lol

“peace out, loser.” “SHUT YOUR TRAP, HO.” quality encounter right here

anyway so he’s blasting Deku with something and Deku’s just flying back all unconscious-like. so then, what even was the point of all that, huh

oh I see, it was to lead us into one last Deku monologue to close this arc out

oh my god Deku if you say you’re going to save him I will turn around and do a cannonball into a ballpit of feels right now, don’t do this to me

OH SNAP I THINK HE’S GONNA THOUGH

DID HE LOOK LIKE HE NEEDED SAVING?? I MUST CONFESS YOU AND I ARE OF A MIND HERE, YOUNG BROCCOLI. YES IN SPITE OF ALL THE MURDERS. WHAT CAN I SAY IT’S COMPLICATED

by the way I just have to point out here, that after all of those impossibly pretty close-ups of Hawks’s unconscious face, Horikoshi really did my child dirty here lmao

he looks like a squished cockroach. THAT’S MY BABY BOY

and it looks like the cavalry is finally on its way too! took them long enough. so I guess they can take care of any of the remaining Noumu stragglers, but first let Deku finish his speech. listen up Deku I really need you to say something cool and iconic to cap off this thus-far admittedly underwhelming Last Chapter Of The Year, here

AHHHHHHH YES HE REALLY DID IT HE SAID THE THING

well he thought the thing, anyway. close enough. I’ll take it!

so this is really the end of the arc then! or at least I hope, good lord. anyways, all right then so let’s do a quick status check:

it looks like the Noumu are hauling Tomura and Spinner away to safety, but it doesn’t look like they managed to save Machia or Compress. this honestly might be in Compress’s best interests though. the heroes can get him some medical help along with Kacchan and Endeavor and everyone else

Dabi is apparently hidden inside Spinner’s scarf, but do they have any way of releasing him without Compress there to undo the quirk? will he be all right in there. like how is he going to get food and water and air and stuff lol. does it wear off after a bit? can Compress undo it when he wakes up, even if he’s in custody? is there a distance limit on it?

and Skeptic was presumably turned into a marble as well, but Compress didn’t bother mentioning him at all. nobody cares about poor Skeptic lol

and bonus AFO theories status check:

Dad for One - AFO called Deku worthless and hasn’t seemed to take the least bit of interest in him despite getting to see his fancy SIXQUIRKS up close and personal. so if he is his dad he sure as heck is a terrible one, that’s all I can say

All for One for All/Deku is a horcrux - well the Spidey Sense seems to offer an alternative explanation to why Deku could sense AFO’s presence, but on the other hand it doesn’t explain why AFO was able to sense Deku’s as well (seeing his dreams and such). still thinking there’s a connection there, guys, idk

AFO is the final villain - five words for you: “EVERYTHING IS FOR MY SAKE.” is that concrete enough yet lol. pretty sure this arc marked both the beginning and end of Tomura’s brief stint as the Big Bad. Deku’s got it in his mind to save him now somehow, and we all know what happens when Deku starts getting determined to save people. look out AFO

as for the heroes, they’re all varying degrees of Fucked and I think it’s honestly too much to even take stock of at this point. maybe if I get a rush of hyperfixation in the next couple days or so I’ll do a separate post analyzing the impact of this arc and where things currently stand and where they might be headed from here

but in the meantime, ngl, this chapter was kind of a hot mess lmao. but whatever, I don’t even care because at least he managed to get all of it done within the allotted 17 pages, meaning that next week (or rather two weeks from now, sob) we really can get moving onto the aforementioned Triage arc! BRING ON THAT ANGST. I am so fucking hyped goddammit

[tainted-wine]

(Snapped a pic because I lost the darn ask)

Thank you, anon! She didn’t exactly forget in this case, but bear with me. This crack is basically a happier ending to Spring Bird Survival Guide. It was supposed to be a couple sentences long. I don’t know how it turned into nearly 3,000 words. I...I wrote a whole fic.

....Enjoy?

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

(NSFW)

“Why did you stop taking them?” He sounds more confused than you’ve ever heard him, the slight shake in his voice betraying his fear.

You didn’t mean for him to catch you in his bathroom, positive pregnancy test still in your hands. Your plan was to figure out when would be the appropriate time to tell him, assuming that he didn’t catch on to the constant nausea added to your pains. At least this saves you the trouble of keeping secrets.

“Because…the Commission can go fuck themselves.” You take his hand and place it right above your womb, hearing his breath hitch. “Let’s start a family, Keigo.”

Hawks knew that this was beyond stupid. It was stupid of you to put yourself in this position, it was stupid of him to even be considering this, and it was stupid of both of you to attempt such a thing behind the Commission’s back.

But his birdbrain didn’t care about any of that right now.

He pulls you in for a suffocating kiss. “My little hen is about to become a mother hen.” He takes you to bed and claims you out of pure joy.

—————————————

That buzzfood article was frankly right. Mutant bodies didn’t make any sense, and what they could do to other people’s bodies made no friggin sense either. As time passed, not only was his seed growing inside of you at an alarming rate, something felt off. These weren’t the kicks of a single fetus, it felt akin to a strange cluster of objects crammed into your womb, shifting about in a way that sometimes made you shudder.

You haven’t been able to see a doctor at all—Hawks wanted you to stay in his house at all times and away from the public’s eye—so there was no way to properly check, but it didn’t take too many guesses to figure out what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me that I’d lay eggs!”

“I didn’t know!” Hawks swears that he didn’t hatch out of an egg himself and had no way of predicting this.

The development of the eggs only took about a month. When it was time to birth them…

“I hate you! God, I hate you so fucking much for putting me through this!” You screamed in pure agony as tears streamed down your face, using every ounce of strength in your body to keep pushing.

Hawks was kneeling between your legs, caressing your thighs lovingly as he watched his offspring’s vessels emerge from your stretched hole. “I’m sorry, baby. You can chew me out all you want later, alright? Just keep pushing. You’re doing great.” Oh fuck him. Fuck him and all of his comfort, making you do this on his own bed, without the security of doctors who actually know how to do this properly. Squeezing out three baby-sized eggs was like a temporary vacation in hell.

Once the eggs were all brought into the world, Hawks wrapped them up in blankets and placed them under a lamp. He knew that there were actual incubators for couples like the two of you, but he’d rather keep them cozy with his personal belongings instead of some lifeless factory-made device.

“I’m not farming chickens that I’ll eat later. These are our kids.”

You’ve been too exhausted to argue, having lost a frightening portion of your body weight. Hawks was having a little too much fun in gorging you, trying to hand-feed you meats of all kinds.

Another month goes by, and you think something must be wrong because those eggs shouldn’t be cracking already, right? But amazingly, you watch as gooey newborns flail about until they have fully broken out of their protective shells. Hawks sadly missed the hatching, but when he comes home and sees his three sons for the first time, he cries.

Somehow, you’re still surprised when they grow quickly. It was concerning. Is that healthy? Three more months pass, and all three of them have fully feathered wings. Hawks teaches them how to fly and use their quirks, and they learn with carefree laughs and smiles on their faces. Healthy or not, you’re going to do everything you can to keep these little fledglings happy.

—————————————

“Let’s have more.”

Your eyes nearly pop out. “More? Already?”

You both sit on the roof of the house, your three boys chasing each other across the starry sky. Both of you have to always remind them to stay quiet and within Mommy and Daddy’s sight when they play outside.

Hawks places his hand over yours. “They could use some more siblings, don’t you think? I’ve got more than enough to provide for them.”

It sounds stupid. Doing any of this was stupid, honestly, and you’re not looking forward to carrying more of his eggs. Yet, a simpler part of your mind wanted this, to take as many of his children as possible, and you decided to listen to it.

“Alright.”

—————————————

The Commission was destined to find out sooner or later, though you’re not sure how. You were eventually fired after your long absence that you refused to give them an explanation for. It’s possible that they still managed to spot your kids while they were outdoors, despite you and Hawks’s many precautions.

You were watching your new clutch of eggs—four of them this time—when the winged hero arrived, the features on his face pressed into a tranquil fury that made you shiver.

“He wanted to take them,” he said lowly through gritted teeth. “He wanted to take our kids and turn them into heroes. Into fucking weapons.”

You held him, feeling his anger ebb with your soothing rubs across his back, right between the base of his wings. “What do we do? We can’t hide from them. You can’t talk them out of anything. Oh god, Keigo, what do we do?” You felt completely helpless, knowing that you couldn’t stop them if they decided to take your little angels away.

Hawks looked to the pile of sleeping boys, having worn themselves out after a hyper game of tag that required you to keep a close eye to ensure they didn’t break anything. At just a little less than a year old, they could be mistaken for being around the age of ten. “They’re really skilled fliers already, aren’t they? Even have great control of their feathers.” He nodded to himself, lost in his own head. “Yeah...I’ll show them weapons.”

The sinister air around him was scaring you. “Keigo?”

His face returned to a cheerful smile as he planted a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, mother hen. I’ve got this under control.”

“But what about the deputy? He’s going to come for our kids!”

You felt his whole body shake from his deep chuckle. “No he’s not.”

And that’s when you noticed it. The dried specks of reddish-brown on his jacket, almost like a splatter. Blood.

“I killed him.”

—————————————

It won’t be long before the Commission goes after Hawks for killing one of their own, so he wasn’t going to give them time to plan.

You didn’t appreciate him taking the kids behind your back, and you had no idea what danger he was putting them in until you heard the news.

The Hero Public Safety Commission HQ had been attacked and overwhelmed.

—————————————

By the time your second clutch hatched, Hawks already had full control of what was once the HPSC. He gave you a tour through the remodeled building, your kids roaming the halls excitedly as if they didn’t just overthrow an entire organization. Some of the employees greeted you warmly, some gave forced smiles. One of them bowed respectfully with a twitchy grin.

“I’m happy to be a part of the Hawks Hero Force, ma’am. We are going to make great changes.”

You...didn’t know what to say to that.

You stuck to raising your kids while Hawks did whatever diabolical shit he was doing, but it was hard to ignore the growing tension in the city. He and his kids have been holding off opposing heroes for weeks, all of them trying and failing to bring down the rising power of the number two hero. You saw the debates on television. People were arguing whether the dissolution of the Commission was for Japan’s benefit and that Hawks should be supported, or question if Hawks should be trusted at all for disposing of the very people that got him where he is today. What was even his game plan?

You didn’t care much yourself. The only insight Hawks has given you was that he was setting up a city that would be safe for all of his children. Sounds good enough to you.

In just a few more months, your other four kids were eager to join their father’s cause. You and Hawks no longer mention the rapid growth of your offspring...and the short lifespans they likely possess. There was no point in letting those fears resurface.

You hug them all, telling them to visit Mommy on weekends and always keep their feathers clean and sharp for battle.

“Don’t worry, Mommy! We’re gonna teach those heroes not to defy Dad!”

—————————————

The part of the HQ building Hawks led you to was like a bizarre fusion of a love hotel room and a nursery. It was such a strange setup, that you almost forgot to question the young lady that has been following him around.

He gives her a few pats on the shoulder. “This here is Hina, one of my most loyal followers. She’s been on my side since the beginning.” Hina gives a polite smile and bows in your direction.

And then Hawks lays it all on you. How he wants kids at a quicker rate, and his female supporters would be perfect for this...you’re dumbstruck. Your belly was already swelling with his potent seed for the third time, and somehow that wasn’t enough?

“I promise you there’s nothing else to it. Isn’t that right, Hina?”

The woman stood tall and nodded. “I’m only here to help Hawks in his cause.”

Hawks gave her an approving smile before turning back to you. “And if you’re not convinced, just stick around. I welcome the audience.”

The suggestion catches you so off-guard that you agree to it. You take a seat on one of the beds (holy shit this was a goddamn breeding room) and watch him and Hina settle on one right next to you.

“All fours, missy.” Hina obeys his command and prepares herself on her hands and knees.

You watch. You watch Hawks rub her moistened folds while stroking himself until fully erect. You watch him slowly push in, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Hina. He stays at a moderate pace, holding her hips and gently rocking her with his thrusts. It’s…odd, watching the men you’ve had seven (so far) children with take another woman to bear more.

The girl that was a complete stranger to you was sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but that still wasn’t enough to hold back her moans. Still, it was hard to pay attention to her, because Hawks’s eyes were locked onto yours. Even as his breaths and movements quickened, even as Hina began to shake and collapse onto her elbows as she reached her climax, he never tore his gaze away from you. He finally did when his eyes shut tightly as he buried himself balls-deep into his dear follower, blessing her with several spurts of his sperm into her welcoming womb.

You couldn’t help but rub your own belly at the sight.

He unfolded the sheets and helped the dazed woman get settled into the bed. “You should get cleaned up later, but for now, just rest.” He said softly.

Hina mumbled nonsense, already half-asleep.

Hawks straightened himself out before walking over to you, excited to rub the stomach that cradled his chicks. “I’m gonna give you all the children you could ever want, baby. And remember,” he gave you a kiss of pure love and passion. “I’ll always only have eyes for you.”

You smiled and hugged him tightly. All of the children in the world…Keigo’s children. “Sounds perfect.”

“Soon, I’ll have all of these beds filled.”

—————————————

Hawks and his children have amazingly lowered Fukuoka’s crime rate by a significant amount. You never imagined living in such a peaceful time. You didn’t understand the interviews and articles, the ones that expressed fear and outrage over being attacked by winged individuals for doing anything that can be perceived as villainous. There were heroes still trying to destroy the Hawks Hero Force, creating alliances of their own to face this new dominating power. They were usually taken care of pretty quickly—all it takes is a flurry of sharp feathers from several pairs of wings to crush the foolish rebels.

You don’t understand why they resisted so much. All they had to do to avoid Hawks’s wrath was be a law-abiding citizen, and also not harm his kids. Oh yeah, anyone—hero or not—that made the mistake of injuring you and your man’s angels had this weird habit of…disappearing.

You had about fifty of them by now. Fifty winged beauties that keep the peace with proud and innocent smiles. Not all of them were yours—they had many mothers now—but you treated them all like your own.

One would expect Hawks to start losing track of his precious eyases, but he remembers every single one of them like they hatched yesterday. Each name…every voice…every face…he didn’t forget any of them, and loved them all equally. When they weren’t enforcing laws, they were cuddling and playing with their father or mothers.

You wandered through the incubation room, looking over the many nests that held your future. The mothers-in-the-making were resting in their beds next door, their bellies growing each day.

This is what paradise looked like.

—————————————

3 years later...

Buzzfood.com

(NOTICE: Buzzfood would like to remind citizens that next Saturday is Skewer Saturday of this month. Please be prepared to offer a chicken skewer to any descendants of Hawks that are currently residing in your neighborhood. If you need help searching for the best skewers to purchase in your area, take a look at our recommended restaurants here. Citizens that do not participate in Skewer Saturday will be taken in by the Hawks Hero Force and punished accordingly. Show your appreciation for our crime-free country!)

Great Hawks Celebrates His 1000th Child

By Yuki Burushito

Another great day in Fukuoka! But this day in particular just might be the greatest day yet! Why, you ask? Our beloved leader Hawks has brought his thousandth child into the world! A public ceremony was held to welcome this beautiful girl on this earth and, more importantly, this blessed country. Hawks and his wife were in tears, and I must say, seeing this vulnerability from such a powerful man moved me like nothing else. May your precious daughter one day join her brothers and sisters in the eternal battle of keeping the peace!

Speaking of peace, we must not forget that even though Japan is enjoying its best years in history, our peace is still being threatened every day. There are villain groups lurking in your city’s slimy cracks, plotting to destroy everything Hawks has worked so hard to create. They even have the audacity to call themselves heroes. We all know that the only heroes needed today are the noble winged ones that fight to keep us safe and comfortable. One group in particular insists on giving Hawks a hard time whenever they can: the One For All Alliance. The majority of the members in this gang are former students and teachers from the now-defunct U.A. High School. Their influence may be spreading, but our love and support for Hawks will always smother their poisonous lies!

We must do our part in ensuring that Japan retains its place as the World’s Paradise!

—————————————

You find him on the roof of his house, watching your three eldest boys fly freely as the orange dawn painted the city’s skyline. Only three years old, yet their bodies were strong and hardened, one of them sporting facial hair similar to their father’s.

He of course panics and scolds you when he spots you trying to climb with your bulging stomach. You only roll your eyes as he helps you up. You’ve gone through this reproductive process more than enough times to know your body’s limits.

“They wanted to reminisce for a while,” Hawks explains, back to watching the playful flights. “They make three years sound like it was ages ago. Then again…” His proud gleam twisted into something sadder, his mind entering that dark pit he tries so hard to avoid.

You cover one of his hands with yours. “No matter how long they have, we’re going to keep working to make sure they enjoy every minute of their life. You’ve given so much to all of your children. Be proud of how great of a father you are.”

The smile he gives is soft and warm. You’ve been seeing those more than his cocky smirks lately.

The sun continues to rise as you both kiss under its morning rays, lost in each other’s love. He only pulls back to speak again. “How about we gather some of the youngsters for a trip to the amusement park? It’s been a while.”

You can’t hide your worry at the suggestion. “Are you sure? Villains love to strike when you’re not active.

He gave a smug grin. Ah, there’s the old him. “They do, and they still get their asses kicked. My kids can handle it. I’ve got all the free time in the world, my little hen.” He holds you close and you both return to watching your darlings fly.

“More free time than I know what to do with.”

[iceeckos12]

tma fic recs

I’ve seen a couple of fic rec posts floating around. since ive been reading so many excellent fic recently, i thought that id make one as well! please note this list is going to be 99% jonmartin. also buckle up, because this is going to get long.

Completed

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

Notes: This is probably my go-to fic if i want an apocalypse never happened scenario. The jonmartin is wonderful, as is the h/c.

Diary and Prenon-nous la main by luftballoons99

Diary summary:

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Prenon-nous la main summary:

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

Notes: Do you love impeccable safehouse jonmartin characterization? do you love characters grappling with the mortifying ordeal of being known? do you love softness so tender that it makes you want to weep? please read these fic. im begging you.

i’ll tell you about all the times i’ve smiled because of you by cryptidkidprem

Summary:

Martin thinks about their shoes, sitting beside each other on the floor by the bed. Thinks of the way Jon wears Martin’s cardigans more often than he wears his own, the way Martin’s started keeping elastics around his wrist because Jon always forgets his own when they go out.

He thinks about all the gentle touches and fussing over each other they’ve done, and how much is still to come over the next… however long Jon will have him.

They have a long way to go, an entire life to build out of the wreckage Jonah Magnus and Peter Lukas left them, but laying together in a comfortable, sleepy quiet, Martin thinks they’ve got a good start going.

Or, Jon quits the Institute, saves the world, and it turns out to be exactly what he needs in order to heal and start moving forward towards building a life with Martin.

Notes: how many times have i reread this fic? more than i can count. jon quits the institute and it’s just full of soft jonmartins. they get married! god i love them.

go softly by doomcountry

Summary:

And there is nothing else besides this.

Notes: every time i remember this fic i reread it. please heed the tags because martin is blinding jon, but he’s like. blinding jon in the most heartbreaking way possible. idk how the author made this so tender but i know i was certainly crying so!

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by  Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

Summary:

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Notes: Do you like time travel fixits? i sure like time travel fixits. reverb is an excellent one. heavy on the h/c, I wanted to hug jon so so badly. 

Yesterday is Here by  CirrusGrey

Summary:

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Notes: Yet another time travel fixit! also excellent. the teasing was HYSTERICAL. also Im just going to say this now - CirrusGrey in general writes incredible tma fic. You can’t really go wrong.

unassigned supplementals by  bibliocratic 

Notes: I won’t put in a summary just because it’s a long series of oneshots, but bibliocratic’s writing is amazing. Again, you can’t really go wrong with one of their fic!

let the soft animal of your body by autoclaves

Summary:

Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.

In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.

(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)

Notes: this fic really speaks to me a) because i project on martin like crazy and b) because food is also my love language. this fic is incredibly soft and it’s all about cooking!

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” by shinyopals

Summary:

I hope you find your new role as Head of the Institute as rewarding as captaining the Tundra, wrote Elias Bouchard, to Peter Lukas. There are so many people working there: all with their own interesting lives, and all desiring your attention and support. I'm sure you will relish the challenge it will bring and enjoy every moment spent with the fine men and women of the Institute. In time I'm confident they'll become like a family to you.

The Magnus Institute has a new boss. The Magnus Institute also has a new tech support technician. These two facts are unrelated, except they both happen at the same time.

Meanwhile Jon's woken up from being dead for six months and for once he's trying his best. He just wishes Martin would stop avoiding him and answer his messages...

Notes: if you’re looking for a good laugh, this fic is SO SO SO FUNNY. i was dying. basically the magnus institute being an absolute bureaucratic nightmare.

hello my old heart  by  firebirdsuite

Summary:

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Notes: it’s all about the yearning. and trust me, the yearning in this fic? im just. i sure do love jonmartin, and this is such soft, loving jonmartin it just makes you want to cry

two ships passing by pyrites

Summary:

Gerard Keay is 10 years old the very first time he tries to run away from home, right around the time that Jonathan Sims has just come into possession of his first Leitner.

Or: One dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves.

Notes: again, JONGERRY. MY GOODNESS. this fic is beautiful, the writing is absolutely breathtaking and it owns my heart. im so in love with it. the author said you’re going to have emotions about jon and gerry and jongerry and i said OKAY

Terminal Sight by viv_is_spooky

Summary:

Spider silk weaves through the visions of two Seers. Monstrosity is dawning on them both.

Notes: I’d never read a gerryoliver fic before this, but the execution is EXCELLENT and now im sold on the ship forever. This fic has wonderful prose and great characterization and i love it a whole lot.

Incomplete

assistant archivist au by  PitViperOfDoom

Notes: I won’t put a summary since I’m reccing an entire series, but. it is absolutely no secret that i adore jongerry. pit’s assistant archivist au slapped me over the head with some gorgeous jongerry oneshots and then gave me the gift of the main fic (which is still in progress) about head archivist martin. i love this au so so much

dustsceawung by  callmearcturus

Summary:

Martin had always been favored by the summer courts, and moving up north to the little village of Lacuna is a difficult adjustment. It's rainy and lonely and everyone seems to have a strange, distant relationship with the local faerie court.

However: there is a strange man in a cloak who walks past Martin's remote little cottage every few days.

However: there is a moth that keeps getting stuck in Martin's house during the rain.

These events are not as disconnected as they first appear.

Notes: you ever just read a fic that you didn’t know that you needed until after you read it? yeah. featuring the fae and moth jon and excellent characterization.

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Notes: This is also the moment where I reveal that im a sucker for jongerrymartin. please read this fic. gerry is brought back from the dead in s4 and everyone is far better off for it.

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

Summary:

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Notes: this time travel fixit is shaping up to be an absolutely incredible read. i love the way this author writes jon so so much, and the characterization is spot on. this whole fic just satisfies some little part of me. god. also!! bubonickitten’s writing in general? beautiful. please check out their other works.

The Timeline of Theseus by Applea

Jon tries to force the Spiral to send him back, but the Sprial's corridors never twist things quite the way you want them to. Back in 1996, Elias has no idea why or how the Eye made such a powerful Avatar out of an 8 year old, especially when said 8 year old doesn't actually know he has any powers at all. Clearly such a child cannot be left outside the Institute's care. 

Notes: This fic is legitimately brilliant. The author manages to capture the big ADHD mood and the precociousness of baby Jon while managing to write a wonderful storyline. Time travel! Elderly lesbians! A Jonah who is wildly in over his head but was walloped over the head with paternal instinct! Baby Gerry! What more could you possibly ask for?

rooms full of people who do not love each other yet by seaer

Summary:

“Wanted to ask about a book.” The boy has his hand on the counter, and he leans into it, nonchalant. The library is air-conditioned, but by no means frigid, and Jon can’t help but feel sweaty just looking at the layers he’s wearing; what looks like old leather over an olive-green Magnus pullover over his school shirt. “Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Jon says, tetchily, “We’re about to close.”

“I know. Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Notes: I am so in love with this author’s writing style and the way they write the characters!! The jon and gerry friendship is PERFECT and the character interactions are all darling.

if you read these fics please send the authors some love, they definitely deserve it!! 

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link

Chapter 3

A/N: sorry for such a long gap between uploads, i’ve made this chapter extra long as an apology! with the pandemic and having to figure out a stable financial situation, its been super rough for me, but coming back to write this fic made me feel good for the first time in a long time :) I hope you enjoy!! xx

Chapter 4 - Horseshoe Overlook II

First order of business is to wash.

You've never been so soiled in your entire life, and you're pretty sure your stench could be picked up at least a mile off if the burn in your own nose whenever you take a breath is anything to go by. There are a million things you want to focus on besides bathing -- like finally getting some decent fucking hours of rest, but you work to pace yourself and not give in to the scattered anarchy your brain keeps descending into whenever you let it go blank for too long. Breaking off small pieces of a larger horror is the only way you're keeping yourself sane at the moment. The previous hold you had on your impulses is frayed down to nothing now that the ropes are gone and you have the freedom to do things as simple as itch your nose. It makes you twitchy, off-kilter in a way that sometimes yanks you out of your own mind. It's like pushing with all your might against a wall of stone that suddenly turns to air. It's a reaction you weren't expecting, and its exhausting.

One of the girls -- or women you should say, volunteers to take you down to a river near by to wash. Freckles. Pinned curls. Kind. Mary-Beth, your memory supplies as she leads you to a secluded spot away from what she warned was a more heavily traversed part of the bank.

You say nothing on the hike down the hill the gang has mounted itself atop of, though Mary-Beth doesn't attempt much conservation. Arthur, who at first had out right refused to let Mary-Beth go anywhere unescorted with a 'wild crazy woman', eventually relented after receiving a firm but undecipherable look from Hosea. It was an effort on your part to care even a little, all you wanted was to fucking clean yourself, rebuffing the disrespect of a man who had no high-horse to give any sort of morality speeches from was the least of your concerns.

"Watch your step here, the ground's a little loose," Mary-Beth warns as she lifts the front of her dress up a respectable amount in order to see where to place her feet.

Again you say nothing, only follow her example and lift the filthy hem of your own skirt and try to walk in her footprints across the patch of mud. You hug your change of clothes tighter to your side (those of which were donated by Mary-Beth this time) with your other hand as you both slowly make your way out of the slippery vat, and onto a shore of grey pebbles. Thick green growth encases you two in a private alcove where the river branches off in a tame half-circle detour before rejoining its main body down stream. The sound of the bubbling water, birds chirping in the canopy above you, and the sun splintering through gossamer emerald leaves would have made you smile in any other circumstance. Nature this untouched is rare and beautiful yet you can't find it in yourself to care, there is no room in you to feel joy right now. It's all instinct and survival, you feel so...rabid. Maybe feral is a better word for it. You simply don't feel all that in control of yourself, like if something unexpected were to happen, you'd react like a wild animal -- fight or flight and nothing inbetween.

In all honesty you feel a bit crazy. There is this buzz in your brain that peaks when you're nervous but never quite dies back down when you're not, it only returns to this constant unnerving hum that's begun to reveal itself as an opposing force to your effort towards a clear present mind.

"Um, Miss?"

It underlies everything you do, like you're getting constant shots of adrenaline every minute. This excess energy burns like poison in your veins and you know it'll sicken you eventually, but even if you wanted it to stop, you wouldn't know how to turn it off.

"Miss? Are, are you okay?"

It's a sign you're spiraling but hell if you have any mental space to pick at that particular ball of yarn on top of everything else. And holy fucking hell I time traveled --

"Y/n?" Mary-Beth's voice echoes a little over the noise of your turmoil, and you find yourself unsure if you turned to face her too fast or too slow as your vision swims.

Time violently warps then and you're grasp on sanity in turn takes a sharp slip -- the world is suddenly tipping itself upside down and you're falling, falling, falling...

You try to remember how to breathe because suddenly you can't.

"Wait," The word wheezes itself from your lungs as your mouth opens and closes in attempt to slog air down your throat, "Wait,"

Mary-Beth pales and you know you're scaring her, and if you could you would try to reassure her that you're fine but you honestly can't remember how to speak --

"Wait!"

-- so you continue to stand there and shake, repeating a sound that tastes like a word but you're not sure --

"Wait! Wait!"

Mary-Beth stands there another beat before making a run for it. She sprints by you the way you both came, and the second you're alone you collapse to the ground, knees digging into the pebble shore through the soiled fabric of your dress, fresh change of clothes forgotten as both of your hands start to claw at your throat, trying to breath -- why can't I breathe ?!

"Wait!"

As you gasp and hyperventilate, struggling to remember where you are and how you got here, it dawns on you that what you feel crawling under your skin and suffocating your throat is panic. You're...you're panicking. You thought you were taking this nightmare one horrible bite at a time why -- where did this tsunami wave of panic come from? You were doing so well holding it back, holding on, why --

Firm hands are suddenly gripping your shoulders and it takes you too long to realize that there is a small group of people standing around you, above you, closing you in, trapping you -- you're trapped who are they what do they want ?!

Your vision blacks out though you can still feel things, still hear things though it comes to you in disconnected pieces, out of order.

"WAIT!" You cry into the black, voice hoarse and broken as you try to breathe around the sound that won't stop coming from your mouth, your face feels wet, "WAIT!"

--

Kieran was shaken when Mary-Beth -- a complete worried mess -- discreetly came up to him at camp, whispering about Y/n being unwell by the river. And now as he slips through a patch of mud before forcefully parting thick shrubs into a small alcove, he sees her kneeling on the ground, hands at her own neck, struggling to breathe. Kieran's heart plummets down to drop out of the bottom of his feet.

"Y/n?!" He goes to his knees in front of her and grabs her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. Mary-Beth keeps her distance, covering her quivering mouth at the scene.

"WAIT!" Y/n yells, though it comes out as more of a hoarse whisper then a scream.

"Y/n! It's me! It's -- it's Kieran! You remember me?"

"What do you all want?! Who are you?! Why are there so many of you?!"

Kieran and Mary-Beth exchange a look, its only the two of them in the clearing. No one followed them down.

"Th-there's no one else but Mary-Beth an' me, see look! Just me right here in front of you -- there you go, see its just me, you see me? Then look, behind me, right there, see Mary-Beth?" Kieran coaxes gently, watching the logic he's laying out for her slowly collect the mania that scattered the sense in her eyes.

--

Realization dawns on you at the same time your sight returns. You let Kieran carefully take a hold of your wrists and pull them away from the red abused skin of your neck. You let him ground you, you let yourself acknowledge sensation one piece at a time: the pain in your knees from the pebbles digging in, the ache in your head, the raw skin of your back, the dryness of your throat, the burn in your tearducts -- and suddenly, before you can bottleneck it into a trickle, the whole world comes rushing in on you at once.

The smell of moist dirt, the sound of running water, the warmth of the sun, the caress of the wind against your wet cheeks, the privacy provided by all the surrounding vegetation. But even with all this reality, the figures remain. You're scared to look up, scared to stare at anything but their feet. Kieran's voice is getting more desperate though, you have to look up -- have to let him see you're recovering. With a shaky in take of breath you raise your gaze so it lands squarely on Kieran. In your peripherals these...figures, don't do anything but stand there. In fact they don't speak, don't move, don't even look like they're breathing. As Kieran fusses over you, his voice slightly muted as the ringing in your ears refuses to recede completely, you chance a glance over his left shoulder. As soon as you shift your eyes over to the figures they disappear, or more like blur, like its a trick of the light. You can still see them in your peripherals, just not the ones you're trying to look at directly. You slide your eyes back to Kieran, and notice that the figures you just tried to look at reappear.

Your breath struggles to find a comfortable rhythm as this new horror piles onto your fresh panic. Have you lost your mind? Is this part of time traveling? God, like time traveling wasn't enough to stop your heart, now you see ghosts?  

"Breathe, you're breathing that's good -- in through the nose out through the mouth, that's it," Kieran instructs, attempting to not to let you look away from him again, his hands gentle where they cup the outsides of your arms helping to dictate the pace in which your shoulders rise and fall.

You let out a shuttering breath and watch Kieran's own chest fill and empty, trying your best to match his movements. Eventually you do manage to wrangle your palpitating heart back down to a normal rhythm, and with this steadier beat comes your sense. The figures remain, though once you close your eyes to take one last large inhale to truly settle yourself, they're gone when your lashes lift again. Your hands are clutching the outsides of Kieran's forearms and you release them instantly, as if burned. A flush of embarrassment rises up to lick at the skin of your neck, it heats up your collar as you try to give Kieran a reassuring smile that ends up being more of a grimace than anything else. Kieran's face, previously pinched tight with worry, relaxes though so you figure you calmed him enough. The guilt hits you like a sledgehammer when you catch sight of Mary-Beth over Kieran's shoulder standing a few steps away, looking for all the world like she'd seen a ghost.

You wonder if that's what you looked like when you first saw the figures. You hope it was less alarming, though you figure having a full blown panic attack negated any possibility of that.  

"Y/n?" Kieran says softly, hands no longer touching you but still hovering just in case. The guilt guts you again.

"I'm fine," You murmur through a tight throat. At the doubtful look Kieran gives you, you add, "Now, I'm fine now."

You shift your gaze back to Mary-Beth and feel your cheeks heat at the realization that at your most vulnerable you were watched, made a spectacle.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, I-I didn't mean to, I, I haven't ever -- that's never happened to me before," Comes your wobbly explanation, all heart and no thought.

Mary-Beth hesitates a beat, taking a visible gulp to steady herself, before making her way closer only to kneel down beside Kieran in front of you. You flinch at the proximity, shame weighing your head down so much it lowers.

"I was only worried is all, didn't know what to do to help," She starts, voice shaky but kind, always kind, "I'm glad I went to get Kieran."

"Thank you, it -- I'm grateful for your, um, discretion."

"Sure thing, Miss," Mary-Beth nods, a soft smile lifting one corner of her mouth.

"Y/n, you can call me Y/n."

"Okay," She says with a breathy laugh, still a little shaken but being incredibly generous about it as she attempts to hide it.

There's a pause where you knot your fingers together, gathering the courage to face Kieran.

"Thank you Kieran, I --,"

"No thanks necessary," Your face jerks up at him at his words, his face goes soft at your surprise, "My Ma used to...worry, like that, after my Pa died."

"O-Oh." You mumble, utterly overwhelmed but you're not sure by what.

Silence throbs between you three for another moment before a twig cracking in the distance snaps all three of you out of your shared stillness.

'I-I best get cleaned up or the whole gang will think I murdered Mary-Beth," A nervous laugh catches in your throat, the muscle and delicate skin over it sore and red from all the scratching you did to it.

"Right," Kieran says, remaining kneeling with you as Mary-Beth rises to a stand.

You stare at Kieran for a moment, waiting for him to process what you said.

"Right!" Kieran's voice cracks as it finally sinks in and in a mad scramble that makes Mary-Beth giggle, he makes his way back through the brush leading back to camp.

He slips in the bit of mud on his way out of the alcove and this time, you join Mary-Beth in a timid laugh at Kieran's expense.

--

After washing yourself with a bar of crudely made soap Mary-Beth provided you, you slip into your shift and frock trying not to shiver. It takes you so long to figure out how to tie yourself in, guessing what layer goes under what, that Mary-Beth -- who had washed and dressed too -- approaches you to help.

"Still feeling...worried?" Mary-Beth uses the same term Kieran did when describing your panic attack as she steps up behind you to tie the strings of your skirt properly. You're grateful she attributes your lack of knowledge on how to properly dress in these period clothes to you still being a bit unsettled.

I mean you still feel quite shaken, but you have your nerves under control -- steady.

"I'm much better now, thank you," You assure as she gently turns you around to then adjust the frilly collar of the blouse that's been lent to you, "Thank you Mary-Beth, for everything."

She slows her ministrations for a moment and lets her gaze drops to yours, the weariness that sat in her eyes earlier fully evaporates, like mist under the high noon sun.

"You're a good woman, I think, at least no worse than the sort I'm familiar with. We shall be friends, Y/n."

"Okay," You allow, unsure what else you could say to that, though the sentiment does lighten the weight in your chest a little.

You guess she's okay to trust at least on some level, she was the one who regularly fed Kieran and you when you were still considered prisoners. Never tossed curses or insults at you either.

"Come," She urges as you both collect your soiled garments off the ground, "Let me introduce you to the other ladies, I promise they're much kinder than you might be expecting. Even the men, though a bit rough I admit, are mindful of us at the very least and quite sweet at their best."

You doubt you'll ever see them that way, in fact you'd bet your life on it, but you keep that to yourself as Mary-Beth leads you both out of the alcove and back up to camp.  

--

The other women aren't too bad.

Tilly is young and sparky, Karen is loud and lonely, Abigail is protective and torn, Susan is stubborn and proud, Molly is insecure and loyal, and Sadie is broken and hard. You match your personal interactions with them, with the impressions you had of them while tied up, reminding yourself to never forget everything they did or said to you while you were the enemy. They take to you easily enough you suppose, though Sadie keeps to herself and Susan -- or you should say Grimshaw, believes herself a level above them all. Not unlike Molly who hadn't even spared you a glance from the perch she'd claimed in Dutch's tent planted in the center of camp. Mary-Beth seems closest with Tilly, Karen, and Abigail, absolutely determined to pull you into their tight knit group and brush off any doubts they had about you being an O'Driscoll whore. You allowed her to do this but only to an extent and only out of respect for Mary-Beth, you didn't trust them -- barely trusted them to be civil like they are being now. In the end it was Kieran who you felt safest with, felt like you could really breathe around. The only ally you had in this place -- an equal.

You seek him out once the sun starts to set after kindly refusing Mary-Beth who offered a place for you to rest with the other women. Kieran is with the horses, though he's got his eyes on the tree line opposite of where he stands. With a twang of worry at how focused he is, you follow his line of sight but only see tree trunks and shadows cast by the setting sun.

"Kieran?" You call tentatively as you walk up to him. He jumps, completely startled, and whips around to face you.

"Oh! Y/n I, I didn't hear you,"

Your eyebrows knit at his expression, "Is something wrong?"

"No! No, I was just, uh, waiting for something."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?"

"Well, my - my horse, Branwen, she's -- well she's quite a loyal girl. Found me at Colter she did and followed us down from the mountains, saw her when we was walkin' behind the wagon. She hasn't had the nerve to approach the camp, what with all the noise and the unfamiliar herd of horses millin' about."

"I didn't know horses were that loyal," You say in quiet astonishment, you always thought that kind of stuff only happened in those cheesy horse flicks.

"Oh yes! If you treat them right and earn their trust and respect, they'll do almost anything for ya."

Your eyebrows jump lazily at this, "Go figure."

"What?" Kieran asks, confused at the term.

"Uh nevermind, so, have you a found a place to sleep?"

"Sleep?" His throat sounds dry all of a sudden.

You stay silent, waiting patiently for a response, wondering why he's become so skittish. He licks his lips, maybe a nervous habit, and can't seem to look you in eye.

"Well, yes I have, but surely Mary-Beth has found you somewhere suitable."

"I don't trust any of them to not kill me in my sleep."

Kieran backs up a step as if you'd struck him, "Mary-Beth wouldn't --,"

A harsh huff blows from your lips.

"No she wouldn't. I, I don't feel like I could sleep among so many...strangers." Comes your quiet admission.

Kieran observes your face for a moment, really takes in your expression.

"I know how you feel," He pauses, fiddling with his sleeve cuff, "How about you sleep while I watch?"

Your head snaps up and you eye him with potent suspicion, but before you can comment or become truly alarmed Kieran trips over himself to clarify.

"N-Not watch you! Not like that! Christ alive no, m-more like watch your back -- stand guard, that way you can sleep without havin' to worry."

Something very close to amused fondness rolls through your chest and clears out any doubts on Kieran's intentions. A giggle escapes your lips at how flustered he is at the notion of what you'd initially thought he meant.

"How about we take turns, I sleep for half the night, and then you for the rest? That way we both get sleep without having to freak out."

Kieran looks like he's about to argue, but he watches you place your hands on your hips very very deliberately, and relents with a sigh.

"Oh alright, but I have first watch!"

You break out a triumphant smile, a real one, and give his left shoulder a friendly punch.

"Deal!" You confirm.

Kieran rubs at the place where you punched him, a bit confused at the gesture but still finds himself laughing with you.

It turns out Kieran picked a sleeping spot near the outskirts of camp behind one of the wagons far from where anyone would disturb you. Some sort of campfire set up for whoever was on guard duty sits a couple paces away. The fact that there was a twenty-four hour patrol routine frayed on your nerves more than you wanted it to. It reminded you that these people were hunted, that if something were to happen you'd be caught up in it as well, even be killed because of it. The idea of dying for these people made you sick, but you never let yourself think about it too long or your anxiety rose to dangerous levels.

As you settle down on the bed of hay that serves as your bed, Kieran plops down cross legged behind you.

He gives a weary sounding sigh, "You know folk'll talk, with us sharing the same sleeping space an all. You sure you want to deal with that?"

You twist around, finding yourself staring at Kieran's hunched back as he picks at the grass near his ankles.

"I don't care what these people think of me. They can say whatever the fuck they want," Kieran jumps a bit when you curse, "I trust you, I only care what they say if you care Kieran."

A pregnant pause grows between you two then, something cold twinges in your chest.  

"Do you? Care?"

"I care only for what might be said about you, I know you say it don't matter, but we're already hated. The women at least seem to like you, you -- you could be one of them, be part of the gang I mean."

You sit up and put a hand on Kieran's shoulder, gently urging him to turn to face you.

"Kieran you have been my only ally since all this started, I could care less about being part of this," You wave your hand vaguely to the camp.

"Well you should care, what other option do we have? We know too much about them, we can't ever leave. You understand that don't you?"

Your face begins to drain of blood. For some reason you hadn't thought of it like that. These people weren't just hunted, but they hunted as well. You knew their faces, could identify them if asked to. You knew their names, their habits, their whereabouts. They'd never let you leave this gang, not alive.

"Oh my god," You say in quiet horror.

Kieran notices this but remains silent, sharing your sentiments. The need to travel back to your time becomes even more of a priority than before if that's even possible. You needed to find a way to escape, and hopefully you could help Kieran get free too.

"We'll find a way Kieran, I promise I'll get us out."

Kieran firmly shakes his head, turning back to face forward and away from the determination in your eyes.

"There's no where for me to go even if we did manage to escape without bullets in our backs. I have no money, no trade, no skills."

"You've said you're good with horses!" You try but Kieran only shakes his head again.

"You have to have some sort of reference or be known to be respectable to work at a stable, even one in a town and especially on one of them fancy ranches. Plus I'd wager that by the time we would have the means to escape, our faces'll be plastered up on wanted posters along with the rest of the gang's."

You try not to blanch further at this, not having considered that either.

"We have to try and work our way into this gang Y/n, its either that or die. I know this kinda life, done it before, I know our options and I'm tellin'em to ya now."

Kieran shifts to look at you over his shoulder, his gaze insisting things you don't want to hear.

"It's the only way."

There's a sting in your eye that you swiftly ignore by blinking hard against the feeling. Your breath shutters out through your nose, and without another word you lie back down. Kieran watches you do this, his mouth parting as if to speak but he shuts it and turns back around. Silence reigns once more, a gap stretching between you that's worrisome. Keeping the nerves out of your tone, you promptly break the quiet.

"What did you do when they took you to the O'Driscoll hideout to convince them to let you be part of the gang? What did you say to try and convince them of my innocence? You seemed so sure you could untie me when you came back." You ask in a murmur, having been wondering about this since Kieran came rushing back to you tied to the tree, whispering about being free now.  

Kieran shifts a bit and huffs, "Well I first swore I'd never seen you until you were being tied next to me behind that wagon in Colter, but they didn't believe me. So I then said that Colm didn't usually stick with one whor -- uh, lady of loose morals, that he liked, er, variety. They again said they didn't believe me, so I told them the truth. Any woman Colm spends a night with usually doesn't come out of it unmarred."

"Unmarred?" Something in your gut sinks in horror.

"They always leave pretty roughed up. He's not, he's not gentle with 'em. And I said that if you was his, if he had...acquainted himself with you and often enough for you to know some of his personal secrets, you'd have been in a much worse state than they originally found ya in."

"You mean besides being naked and freezing to death?" You scoff, disgusted with this Colm person and starting to understand why everyone in camp seemed to hate Kieran and you so much thinking you associated with that kind of man.  

Kieran clears his throat, "Besides that."

There's a pause, then, "Forgive my lack of delicacy, but you were found n-naked? Why? If you don't mind my askin' of course!"

You manage to choke out, "It's a long story."

"How did, how did they take you back to camp?"

"I don't know, all I know is that Arthur is the one who saved me. Though I wish he'd left me to die instead of bringing me here."

"Mr. Morgan saved you?" Kieran asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," You confirm rather sourly, "The one who doesn't seem to have a merciful bone in his body."

"Well I'm not dead because I shot an O'Driscoll and saved his life at Six Point."

You take a moment to consider this information.

"Owing a life debt is not the same as mercy." Comes your stubborn rebuff, refusing to give Arthur even an inch of sympathy in your mind.

The both of you quiet again, and this time the silence isn't heavy with unspoken words. Just before you're about to fall asleep, you find the extra fabric of Kieran's coat with your fingers, and twist the rough material into your closed hand. Your dreams consist of a warm chest pressed to your front and the worn fur lining of a coat wrapped around your back, a pocket of safety tucked between an arched neck and a stiff flipped up collar...

--

You wake to the noise of the camp, birds twittering high in the trees, and Kieran's jacket laying over your body that's curled tightly in on itself during the night.

With a sore grunt you sit up, body still aching from all the abuse its been through. Kieran hadn't woken you, he'd let you sleep through the whole night. You feel a flare of guilt and frustration rise in you, followed quickly though by begrudging fondness. You should have known he'd do something like that, the softie. Getting to your feet, you wipe the stray pieces of hay stuck to your skirts off and groan internally at how uncomfortable it is to sleep in these old fashion clothes (thank god they hadn't stuck you in a corset). Though its leagues better than nodding off tied to a tree. Once you make your way into camp proper, Mary-Beth bumbles up to you all smiles and simmering questions about how you slept last night while leading you to a wooden pail that she informs holds the water the women use for their personal hygiene.

"Heaven forbid we're made to share with the men!" She exclaims good-naturedly as you approach the mini bathing station set on a stool by the women's tents.

You watch Karen finish splashing water in her face before scrubbing and rinsing her teeth. She spits the water out onto the grass beside her and not back into the pail (which you are grateful to see), then scoots over with a mumbled good morning directed at you when Mary-Beth ushers you forward to do the same. You hope that you can get your hands on some soap that is possibly softer against your skin than what you used yesterday by the river. If you don't wash your face twice a day you know you'll break out, and though acne should be the least of your concerns right now, the familiar motion of splashing water on your face pushes the domestic thought to the forefront of your mind. As you dab your face dry with a clean cloth that Mary-Beth hands you, distractedly you wonder if the water you are using was cleaned or prepped in any way. Surely washing your face with river water wouldn't do your skin or your tastebuds any favors. Fighting a grimace, you scrub and then rinse your teeth but find that while the water doesn't taste like algae as you feared it might, it doesn't taste like the bottled water you have in your fridge at home either.  

Once you're done, you thank Mary-Beth for her guidance and are about to turn to go find Kieran, when Karen appears at your right and hooks her arm through yours, pulling you over to their tent where a small crude vanity is set up.

"Do you wear makeup Y/n?" Karen asks, "Only Mary-Beth, Tilly and I use this station, though Grimshaw likes to sometimes steal the face powder and pretend she's not wearing any, the old hag."

You don't know what to say, a bit shell-shocked at the familiarity they're employing, as you catch a glimpse of Molly across camp, just a step outside of Dutch's tent, carefully applying red lipstick. She brings the pretty little decorated hand held mirror she's using closer to her lips to inspect her work, turning her face slowly from side to side, utilizing the early morning sun's soft glow.

"Uh, sometimes," You start but quickly backtrack when you realize you know nothing about the makeup from whatever time period this is, "But not enough to really know how to do it myself, my --,"

"Yourself?" Karen interrupts, Mary-Beth and her both stilling in their fussing to face you, "You mean you had someone to do it for you? What, you some kind of heiress or somethin'?"

The questions make you nervous, but you school your features so as to not let that show.

"No, nothing like that. My older sister did it for me, she always liked to dress me up in things." You lie.

"Oh a sister? That must be nice, what's she like?" Mary-Beth asks, not unkindly.

Fuck.

"Like all older sisters I guess, she's nice until I borrow her stuff without asking." It's vague but believable, you hope it convinces them.

Karen lets out a snort and Mary-Beth shakes her head with a smile.

"Sounds about right," Karen says as she directs you to sit.

"I-I really don't think make-up is necessary," You warn as Karen begins to rummage through the little that's laid out in front of you.

"Lord's sake! We need to get into town, we've got barely nothin' left that didn't freeze to sludge up in Colter!" Karen grumps, completely ignoring you and continuing to search finger through the tiny bottles and tin trays.

Mary-Beth laments Karen's statement with a sigh, neatly pinning a curl up into the mass she'd collected into a bouquet near the crown of her head, using a corner of the mirror you've been sat in front of as a guide.

"Uncle was sayin' yesterday that he'd been meaning to go into town today, maybe we can catch a ride with him." Mary-Beth suggests.

Karen rolls her eyes, "Let's hope that out of us women, one of us can drive. I wouldn't trust that ol' geezer to steer a spoon into a bowl."

You're about to once again attempt to excuse yourself and look for Kieran, when Tilly walks up to the girls and you with a distinct scowl on her face. She plops down under the awning of the tent, pulls out some sort of sewing project and sets to work without a word.

"What's wrong Tilly?" Karen inquires almost as soon as Tilly had sat down, ignoring her show of clearly wanting to be left alone.

"Grimshaw." Is Tilly's only response though this seems to be explanation enough for both Karen and Mary-Beth, they both groan in sympathy.

"If you don't want to wear any make-up, let me at least do something with your hair," Mary-Beth pleads, turning back to you, as Karen elbows you off the stool when you duck away from her hand holding some sort of powder puff.

"Um,"

"Just a brush through then? Your hair is, well it's just a bit tangled." She furthers as Karen leans in close to the mirror and starts putting on what seems to be this era's version of eyeliner.

"A bit? It looks like rats have taken up occupation in there." Karen scoffs as she holds her eyelid taught with one finger and uses her other hand to drag a fine brush along her lash line.

"Karen!" Mary-Beth admonishes as Tilly giggles down into her sewing across the tent.

You only sigh, still uncomfortable with them pretending like they didn't all hate your guts a couple days ago. Except for Mary-Beth. You sigh.

"Okay." Your surrender is met with a wide grin from Mary-Beth.

"Mary-Beth loves to do hair," Karen explains unnecessarily as she moves onto her other eye.

You're then sat on a different stool facing out towards camp, and Mary-Beth begins the long grueling process of brushing out your hair that hasn't seen shampoo in over a week and a half.

--

It's around mid-morning when Mary-Beth finally finishes with your hair. You're a bit surprised she stuck with it, you thought after about twenty minutes with only a small portion of your hair untangled to show for it she'd give up. But she was oddly determined. Karen and Tilly had gone to ransack Pearson's wagon in search of breakfast and brought back a few loaves of bread with a can of peaches. They laid the pre-cut slices of fruit heaviest with juice over the loaves of soft bread they'd thumbed open. It was delicious. After a week of only eating crumbs it was comparable to heaven. Once you finish, you ask if there is any left that you could take to Kieran.

"The O'Driscoll?" Karen scoffs, licking her fingertips clean of peach juice.

All previous good will she'd been building with you disappears. They had all watched as Kieran and you suffered and did nothing. A fuzzy memory of Karen tossing a still lit cigarette bud in Kieran's face resurfaces and it sours your frown into a hateful scowl. These women are not your friends, a part of you feels ashamed you let them trick you into thinking that, even for a moment.

"He is not an O'Driscoll."

Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly freeze at your tone, Karen seeming at a loss for words at the look you're giving her. All previous levity dives into insufferable tension.

"Sorry," Karen apologizes in a voice very unlike the brash snark she'd been using all morning.  

You don't say another word, you only collect the last loaf of bread, the near empty can of peaches, and storm off in search of Kieran.

You find him coming out of the treeline near where the gang's horses graze, with a new horse in tow. Kieran has a smile on his face. As you make your way over to him, avoiding contact with anyone else, you realize you've never actually seen Kieran smile before. This time Kieran sees you coming and the grin on his face grows, it warms your heart, reminding you who your true friend is.

"Is that Branwen?" You ask through a smile of your own, walking around the herd to one of the hitching posts near the hay wagon Kieran is making his way over to.  

"It is!" Kieran replies as he gently guides his horse to stop before the post, giving her dirty mane a loving pat, "Been coaxin' her to me all morning."

"She's pretty," You offer as you come to stand next to him, being careful not to move too fast, unsure how to handle yourself so close to a horse.

"Oh she looks like a two cent nag with all the filth she's got collected in her coat."

"Well I can tell from the," You gesture with the peach can towards the mare, "Colorings, that she'll be super cute when she's all clean."

Kieran blinks furiously at the terms 'super' and 'cute', but you rush into another sentence in the hopes of distracting him from your odd terminology.

"I brought you breakfast," You present the bread and the peach can to him.

He looks down at your offerings and only stares, "That's kind of ya, but where did you get it? Did Pearson give it to you?"

You shake your head, "The women shared it with me."

Kieran stares at you for a moment, then blinks up at your hair, seeming to just know realize it isn't in knots anymore.

"Oh," He says dumbly, "Oh."

"So, breakfast?" You say again, trying not to laugh.

"I should really care for Branwen first," Kieran begins to say but trails off at the look on your face.

"Thanks for waking me up last night to switch guard shifts," You muse, rolling the peach can between your fingers. Kieran's eyes drop to watch the motion and he gulps, "Really appreciate waking up feeling like a worthless friend."

You know you're going hard on the guilt trip, but you can't help it. He's easy to tease but you are truly peeved he didn't wake you.

"We had an agreement Kieran," One more moment and --

"Okay I'm sorry!"

There it is.

"I knew you wanted me to wake you up to switch, but I couldn't help it! You looked so tired, I just couldn't do it." He whines.

You pretend to ponder on this, shifting your weight to sit in one hip.

"I'll only forgive you if you eat first, then you can care for Branwen."

Kieran looks so genuinely torn by this you almost relent, but he caves before he makes you feel guilty and grabs the food from you. You stay, wanting to make sure he eats it all.

"Wait!" You cry as he stuffs the entire loaf into his mouth.

He startles and stares wide eyed at your outstretched hands.

"You're supposed to put the peaches on top," You pout, "That way the juice sinks into the bread and it isn't too dry."

Kieran only shrugs at this, chews the bread for another moment before swallowing (though you feel like he should have chewed a mouthful that big a bit longer; seriously that must have hurt going down), before sticking his fingers into the can to scrape out the last few slices of peach. You roll your eyes at this.

I guess men will be men no matter the time period.

"Okay I'm done, can I wash Branwen now?" Kieran asks your permission, though you suspect this is done more out of fond spite than anything else.

You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again as you snatch the can from him, and answer him anyways, "Yes."

Kieran gives you a quick thanks before rushing back over to Branwen, cooing at her sweetly, before starting to remove the weather worn saddle from her back. You place the can by your feet, ready to sit down in the grass and watch Kieran for the rest of the afternoon, even offer to help though you don't the first thing about cleaning a horse, when someone clears their throat behind you. You swivel your head over your shoulder and find that its Mary-Beth. She looks sheepish at best, guilty at worst. The softness in you hardens.

"Um me and the girls were wonderin' if you wanted to ride into town with us," She waves a hand towards the main entrance of camp and you see a wagon hitched and ready to go. Karen and Tilly are sitting in the back looking at you across camp, while the elderly man they called Uncle and Arth --

"I'm fine." You decline automatically when you spot Arthur sitting on the driver's bench next to Uncle, fiddling with the reigns.

Mary-Beth pauses, her expression tensing like she had expected that response. You hear all the noise behind you quiet, you know Kieran has turned around to listen.

"And usually that'd be fine an' all but, we need to get you clothes of your own, seeing as you can't keep borrowin' ours." You must make some sort of face because she steps forward, voice thin with nerves, "We don't mind! It's just we don't have many outfits to spare, it'd be more laundry, more work. Plus we wanna put what money we have left together to get you something to wear of your own."

"I don't need your charity," You snarl before you can stop yourself. If they think a new dress is going to make up for almost two weeks of torture --

"That's not what this is! It's..." She sighs in frustration, though you have a feeling she's not frustrated with you.

"They're tryin'," Kieran murmurs behind you suddenly. Mary-Beth looks up at this and for a startling moment you think she might cry.

"Yes, we're tryin'," She says on an exhale, giving Kieran such a profound look of gratitude it makes you consider her offer, "An' we don't know your sizes, or we'd save ya the trouble of the trip. Though, we thought you might like an afternoon out of camp."

Before you can put the pieces together yourself, Kieran crouches down to get eye level with you and bumps your shoulder with his.

"This is good Y/n, it's a sign of trust. They're lettin' you outta camp." He tells you softly, meaning the words for your ears only. The look he had in his eyes last night reappears now, it makes you want to hit something.

Your gaze gravitates back to Arthur sitting in the driver's seat, smoking with his hat tilted low over his eyes and looking for all the world like a hero straight out of one of those old western movies. He resolutely doesn't look your way even though the entire rest of the wagon, including Uncle, are staring unabashedly at Mary-Beth and you.

"It's not a sign of trust," You whisper, turning your head towards Kieran so only he can hear you, "It's a test."

Without another word you rise to your feet, trying not to wince at the ache still present in your back.

"If I go then Kieran gets to come too." You state firmly -- nonnegotiable.

"Of course!" Mary-Beth agrees quickly.

Kieran makes his way back to Branwen though, who had been standing so patiently behind you this whole time, and begins to lead her towards the water pails kept by the herd.

"I'm staying," He says, and at your look of minor betrayal he adds, "Gotta clean up my girl, plus I'd have nothin' to do in town."

You know he's only saying that to avoid conflict, because no matter what Mary-Beth agrees to, you have a feeling Arthur wouldn't approve of both O'Driscolls coming along. Your bitterness grows distinctly more potent. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest when Kieran gives you an encouraging smile, nodding his head towards Mary-Beth urging you to go.

"I'll be fine, now go!" He says when you refuse to move still, unsure if you can.

This was in part about sticking with your ally yes, but also you didn't feel safe going with them if Kieran wasn't by your side. Who's to say Arthur wouldn't suddenly decide to beat you even though he'd chosen not to before? You didn't know him, didn't know them. You only trusted them to do what they'd always done, and that was be cruel and unfeeling towards you. Mary-Beth less so than the others but still. Arthur terrified you the most out of all of them. He had such anger in him, the kind that made a man destructive to himself and others. Whatever other complexities he might have, he is undoubtedly dangerous and that's the last thing you wanted to defend against right now.

"She'll go," Kieran says for you when you remain quiet.

Your eyes close as you struggle to contain the knot of emotion roiling in your gut.

"Okay," Mary-Beth murmurs, unsure.

"When I get back," You say, voice low, as you turn to face Kieran, "I'll want to see Branwen in all her glory."

Kieran gives you a ghost of the smile he'd had earlier, and nods in acquiesce.

Without another word you pivot on your heel and walk towards the wagon, brushing past Mary-Beth. You hear her scurry to catch up with you after a few beats, though you make sure to keep your eyes down at the ground as you approach the wagon, unable -- or more like unwilling, to let anyone see the riot of emotion wrecking havoc in your eyes. Once you reach the lip of the wagon Mary-Beth waits for you to climb up, before hauling herself up too. You sit on the right bench across from Karen and Tilly, Mary-Beth sliding in next to you.

"I can't believe we're going to see civilization," Tilly suddenly starts as Arthur snaps the reigns and the wagon jerks forward, "It feels like weeks since we did."

"Yeah, Valentine, the very embodiment of civilization," Uncle interjects with a wet sounding cackle, "You ladies are gonna love it!"

"Okay then," Arthur starts as he pulls the wagon out of the cluster of woods that hide the camp, "Let's go!"

Everything in you turns to stone at the sound of his voice, so many conflicting experiences with him -- with that voice, jamming themselves to the front of your brain all at once. You're so tense Mary-Beth tenses beside you too. Before awkward silence can settle over the group, Uncle twists to face the women in his seat.

"Ladies! Sing us a song!"

It seems to be the right thing to say because after a short chorus of giggles, Karen cues the girls in with a nasally but not unpleasant song about a girl in Berryville. They sing loudly, carelessly, and happily, relishing each other's company, the sun, the fresh air, and the views. Refusing to enjoy anything, you keep your gaze down on your hands that pick at the material of your skirt. Maybe this whole thing is a blessing in disguise. There are bound to be newspapers in a town right? They had books in camp so you know printing presses existed. You could possibly figure out where the hell you were and what time period you were in. It had occurred to you that asking Kieran for the date not just by day, but by year would come across as odd, even if he would tell you without many questions. The last thing you wanted to do was compromise the trust Kieran had in you, your only ally. You still have your eyes glued to your lap when you hear a panicked,

"Woah! Woah there!" A stagecoach comes barreling past the front of the wagon, Arthur having to pull the reigns up short to avoid a collision, kicking up huge clouds of dust that descend down around you.  

"Look at that coach! He's...he's all over the place," You hear Uncle mumble under his breath.

The women are still singing, though slightly distracted now as you all crane your necks to see what the commotion is about. Arthur encourages the wagon's horses left onto the main road where, just ahead, the horses of the runaway coach come to a reeling stop and with an audible snap, break free of the reigns.

--

"Oh goddammit! Oh shit, the horses!" Comes the cursing from the coach driver.

Arthur slows the horses to a walk as they come upon the stopped coach, one of the shires -- a big white stallion -- takes off in a fury towards a thin copse of trees on the other side of the road. Before he can grapple with shoving down the instinct to help the man, Tilly pipes up from the back.

"Is one of you gonna get that feller's horse?"

"Oh I got lumbago! It's very serious," Uncle immediately deflects without hesitation, like he had the excuse ready.

Arthur refrains from saying anything especially cruel to the old man in response, knowing he'd only make himself look like a fool. A part of him wants to push the wagon into a full gallop, leave this small choice behind him in the dust. He feels her eyes staring holes into his back though, and it makes him uncomfortable. Out of spite he wants to ignore the man, just to prove to her -- to himself that he can...that he's still cruel and angry enough to ignore a person in need. Arthur growls internally at himself. He has no idea what he's on about. With a sharp inhale and a quick clench and release of his jaw, he wordlessly hops out of the wagon, tossing the reigns at Uncle and getting the petty satisfaction of watching him fumble to catch them. Arthur lets himself do this despite feeling like he's chipping away at something important, something he needs to protect himself. Because if he's not angry he's empty...but she's staring --

"I'll see what's going on." He says through a tight jaw, promptly interrupting his own train of thought, "Lumbago, really," He mutters petulantly to himself as he makes his way over to the driver.

The stagecoach driver, catching sight of Arthur coming round to his side of the coach to help, hops down from the driver's bench and lands on shaky legs.

"You alright there friend?" Arthur inquires as the driver steadies himself against the side of the coach looking like a colt just learning to walk.

"Oh hey! You couldn't help me get my other horse back from over there, could you?" The driver says in leu of a response.

Arthur ignores the lack of manners, taking in how frazzled the fool truly is. Must be new.  

"Sure, no problem." Arthur says, briefly thinking of stealing the horse but waving the thought away as quickly as it appeared -- old habits.

"Thanks mister, its the white one over there." The driver instructs with a sigh of relief.

Arthur isn't sure how to feel about how simple -- how easy being kind is, it feels so foreign yet familiar, so natural and good that for a moment Arthur's heart stops. He actively ignores his thoughts and her watchful eyes from the wagon, following him as he makes his way across the road and into the smattering of trees where the white shire has taken refuge. Arthur coaxes the stallion to him easily enough, the beast coming up to him only after Arthur made him move his feet a little to earn his trust, show him he was the leader. He grabs hold of the dragging reigns and checks to make sure the horse didn't hurt his mouth by stepping on the reigns when fleeing or when he ripped clean away from the coach. The horse's soft mouth seems a little tender but no serious damage has been done, lucky beast. Arthur clicks at stallion to follow and leads them both back to the stagecoach driver currently wrangling the other shire back into the coach restraints.

"Here, here you go." Arthur announces himself and the returned horse.

The driver whips his attention over to him, stopping his fussing over the horse's tack, and exhales heavily in relief and gratitude.

"You're a gentlemen, sir, a gentlemen!" He exclaims as he takes the reigns from Arthur.

Arthur's chest aches at the praise, like acid in his stomach -- unworthy.

"No, not really...I was just," Arthur glances over his shoulder at the wagon, "Tryin' to impress the women."

He hears the girls giggling at this, though he knows which one of them remains silent.

The driver gives a hearty chuckle, "Well, anyway, thank you!"

Arthur nods at the man, biting back the warning about the shire's sensitive mouth and to go easy on the reigns next time, and heads swiftly back towards the wagon.

"C'mon!" Uncle urges as Arthur hauls himself up into the driver's seat.

"To Valentine!" Karen cries as Arthur snaps the reigns and the wagon lurches forward.

Arthur's grateful no one is bringing up --

"You're turnin' into a regular ol' fairy godmother there, Arthur!"

The urge to push Uncle out of the wagon takes a fierce hold of him. He only tightens his grip on the reigns instead.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur grits out, delivering Uncle the most unfriendly glare in his arsenal.

"It means you've gotta heart!" Mary-Beth interjects from the back, "A small one perhaps, hidden deep inside, but a real one!"

Her words are a surprisingly odd comfort, but they mostly confirm his fear. Its simpler if he's just fury and hate. The idea that beneath all that is something truer than what he is now, that's something he absolutely does not want to deal with right now. Or ever.  

"And you haven't! You repulsive old lizard!" Mary-Beth crows at Uncle, the girls all murmuring their adamant agreement.

"Lizards have hearts!" Uncle argues weakly, though Mary-Beth doesn't dignify that with a response.  

"Well Arthur," It's Tilly this time that speaks up, "I'm proud of you."

God were all of them gonna praise him like he just saved a newborn child from certain death? He doesn't think he can take much more of this. Arthur attempts to remind them all who he really is.

"To be honest, if you lot hadn't been here, I probably woulda robbed 'im." He says, hoping to regain some semblance of the intimidating image he'd carefully curated over the years. A bit concerned it could be knocked so easily, and over an act as simple as helping a stranger.  

Uncle wheezes out a dark chuckle at that, Karen joining him, but Mary-Beth speaks up again strangely determined to drive her point home.

"Well, you didn't!"

Arthur wonders belatedly if this is Mary-Beth's way of trying to endear him to the her, who has remained silent this whole exchange and ever since she got in the damn wagon. Something twists suddenly in his gut but Arthur smothers it on reflex, dawning his armor of anger. Good, he thinks, let her fear me, and laughs along with Uncle and Karen as they cross the railroad that circles through the town and lumber past what looks to be the station and post office.

"Smell those sheep!" Tilly says as they pass by a couple sizable livestock pens at the same time Arthur hears Mary-Beth promptly snap out her fan, and begin beating it quickly against the smell of shit.

Karen gives a hearty scoff, "Or is that Uncle?"

"Oh very funny," Uncle grouses in a slump beside him.

Arthur can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

"This looks like a decent little town." Mary-Beth insists even as she continues to vigorously work her fan.

"Other people," Tilly groans, "Finally!"

"Look at all that snow on the mountains! Sure don't want to be back up there," Mary-Beth points out, everyone in the wagon turning to glance at the icy peaks in the distance and all sharing a collective shiver.  

"You think we should have asked Molly to come with us?" Tilly wonders after another moment of taking in the bustling town.

Arthur is quickly assaulted with the image of Molly walking past the livestock pens getting mud and shit and who knows what else on her shoes, most certainly ruining the hem of her dress, and almost lets out a bark of laughter. Molly O'Shea would rather die than be subjected to an afternoon in a town like this. Karen, as Arthur knew she would, jumps at the opportunity to tear into the Irish woman.

"Oh no, Miss O'Shea is far too high and mighty now for the likes of us, or to do any real work. She's a society lady now!" Her tone bleeds heavily with sarcasm and bitterness, Arthur wonders if Dutch is aware of how much animosity lies between some of the women of the gang. Sure they all bit chunks out of each other once in awhile, but this divide between Molly and the other ladies was far wider than Arthur felt was smart to ignore.

"Okay, take a look around ladies," Karen buffers on, not lingering on the negativity she created for too long, "Let's see what we got here."

They're all silent as they keep an eye out for possible opportunities. Arthur carefully navigates the wagon down the main road of Valentine, weathered wooden buildings sinking in mud line the path, paint chipping, signs swinging in the slight breeze, and folk coming and going. He catalogues a sheriff station, a general store, a hotel, a saloon, a gunsmith, and even a doctor's office. Not bad for a livestock town. The sounds of horses whinnying in a decent sized stable at the end of the street catches Arthur's particular attention. He perks up when he spots a good place to park the wagon near a building under construction adjacent to the stables. Maneuvering slowly to their destination, he stops the wagon with a gentle 'woah' to the horses once he's brought the bulk of the wagon out of the way of traffic.    

"Alright! Here we are, just like I said," Uncle boasts as everyone stands to unload, "The cultural center of civilization, man at its finest!"

Arthur only rolls his eyes at Uncle's attempt at humor and effortlessly hops down from the driver bench.

"Uncle, what're we doin'?" Arthur asks before the old fool spews anymore nonsense.

"Well, we're gonna do what any other self-respecting maniac does," Arthur signals a stable hand over to feed and water their horses as Uncle talks, pushing a few dollars into the boy's dirty hands, "Put the women to work."

Karen snorts, "With pleasure, we'll start at the saloon."

As Arthur comes around to the back of the wagon, he notices Tilly struggling to find her footing on the lip of the wagon under the layers of her dress. He quickly offers her a hand which she immediately takes.

"Thank you Arthur," She murmurs in gratitude as, with the help of his hand to steady her, she easily braves the large gap between the wagon and the mud below.

He nods at her once she's landed safely on the ground, but grunts as she thanks him again. She shouldn't waste her kindness on him. Arthur tries his best not to look at her as the women all gather together after unloading off of the wagon. He finds himself quite annoyed that the urge to is so insistent.

"Alright," He begins once Uncle finally makes his way over to stand beside Arthur who in planted firmly in front of the ladies, "Remember to stay outta trouble and don't get yourselves noticed."

Mary-Beth hooks arms with her as he talks, though he only makes eye contact with Tilly and Karen, avoiding her side of the group entirely. Karen rolls her eyes at him and when he's done, playfully pushing past him before motioning for the other women to follow.

"We know Arthur, you don't have to be such an over protective nag about it."

A noise of unfiltered indignation rips itself out of Arthur's mouth at her words, something embarrassing between a scoff and a squawk.

--

"See Arthur's not so bad," Mary-Beth murmurs in your ear as she leads you after Karen and Tilly who are striding confidently towards a building with literal swinging doors, "A right mother hen when given half the chance!"

You try not to let her words irritate you. She means well, you can acknowledge that, but her continuous attempts to humanize Arthur are more annoying than helpful. It feels like you are being forced to forgive a man that has purposefully tried to terrify you and while never having beat you, was okay with watching others do it. No amount of helping strangers or chivalry will convince you he wouldn't kill you dead without hesitation if he felt it was necessary.

You only hum at her claim, still largely uncomfortable with the physical familiarity the women keep attempting to engage you in. It takes all your strength to stop yourself from yanking your arm out from the loop of her's. Mary-Beth must sense your unease though, and wordlessly releases your arm. You're grateful she doesn't comment on it.

"C'mon ladies!" Karen exclaims, still leading you all up the street, "Imagine we're in Paris!"

"I imagine Paris and Valentine are easily confused," Tilly remarks rather sharply, her mouth twisting a little as mud squelches under their feet with each step.

You raise an eyebrow at the comment, sympathizing with her remark as you narrowly avoid stepping in a vat of what you assume is horse shit. It certainly smells foul enough, plus the flies are a dead give away. Eventually you all stop before the rickety steps of a saloon that looks like its come straight out of a movie or a high budget reenactment set. The swinging doors, the drunk piano playing wafting out from inside even though you dare say its only noon, completes the the full effect. You stand there a moment and just stare at it, stare at the people walking in and out, at their clothes, at the way they walk, at the way they talk, just everything. The town really cements the fact that you are no longer in the year 2020. An odd mixture of adrenaline and anxiety shoots through your veins then, and its difficult to process it all.  

"Newspaper," You hear yourself mutter as you continue to stare wide eyed at the saloon.

Mary-Beth hears you and turns to shoot you a questioning look.

Realizing you had just said that out loud, you blink back an embarrassed flush and clear your throat.

"I'd like to check out the newspaper that kid was selling, the one we passed on the way into town. I don't need to buy one, I just want to look."

"What are you checking for?" Mary-Beth asks, suddenly becoming very guarded, the most you've ever seen her in fact.

You panic a little, "Just the date and where exactly we are. I'm not from around here, not really familiar with this part of the country."  

Her eyes sharpen and proceed to methodically take apart your expression, examining every twitch and blink like it held a secret. You figure she's weighing whether or not this will be a threat to them -- to the gang. It further emphasizes the void between you. They would always be a them. It would never be a we.

"Alright, I'll come with you. Then we can go get you some new clothes." Mary-Beth eventually agrees, turning to wave at the other girls -- signaling your departure, before Tilly and Karen enter the saloon.

You both trudge along in silence, your anger flaring up at this blatant display of distrust despite all of her efforts so far to prove to you she's 'trying'. Once again you attempt to not to let all the emotion get to you. Trust goes both ways, and no way were you going to take the first step. If they wanted to earn your respect, it would have to be their necks they stick out first, not the other way around. You finally make your way to the boy holding up one of the newspapers he's selling, shouting today's headline. At your approach his eyes light up at the prospect of a customer,

"What will it be ladies? Two copies or one to share?"

You feel a little guilty at getting his hopes up, but you dust off one of your best customer service smiles and watch as he takes it in, a bit shocked at the easy generosity of it. Poor boy's probably used to getting snuffed all day, you can relate, having worked your fair share of minimum wage jobs.

"I'd like to check something actually, just a quick peak at the date if you wouldn't mind?" Comes your question dressed heavily in your matching costumer service voice -- tone smooth and low and friendly.

The boy blinks at you a moment -- stunned, then his cheeks promptly color a splotchy red. Thoroughly flustered he glances at Mary-Beth, but his blush only deepens as she hits him with a lovely smile of her own.

"W-Well I --," The boy begins to stutter.

"I don't even have to hold it," You interrupt before he can refuse, taking advantage of him being caught off guard, "But if I could just take a quick gander at the top right corner there..." You trail off as you do exactly what you're currently suggesting, and lean in slightly to squint at the date.

May 17, 1899, it reads.

1899?! You kick your customer service skills into overdrive, years of using it the only reason why your face doesn't crack into full panic as you force yourself to read a little more.  

The State of New Hanover, The Heart of the Heartlands

This is before they officialized the fifty states, the American civil war happened about three decades ago. Oh god.

"H-Hey are you gonna buy or not?" The boy attempts to assert himself, swinging the newspaper behind him, looking adorable with his face the color of a tomato.

"Unfortunately not, but your kindness is very much appreciated." You sooth, voice like honey, as you give him one last smile -- making it as stunning as possible, before turning away and heading back down the street.  

You make it a few strides out of the boy's ear shot before Mary-Beth elbows you gently in the side. Glancing up, you find her giving you a conspiratorial smirk.

"You never told us you could work a man," She remarks, raising one of her eyebrows in arch amusement.

You can't stop yourself from scoffing, "Man? He was barely thirteen."

"Well either way, I can tell you have a lot of experience handling people."

A shrug serves as your answer, you guess working a minimum wage job does leave you with a certain skill set. Though why Mary-Beth is hinting that it can be utilized in more unconventional ways is beyond you. Eventually you both make it to the general store. You stumble in your stride when you spot Arthur and Uncle sitting on a bench out in front of the store, sharing a large glass bottle of strong looking liquor you assume is whiskey. That's what all the cowboys in the movies drink right? It seems fate loves a good cliché.

For the first time since being tied to the tree, Arthur and you lock eyes. The two of you freeze, Arthur mid drink and you mid step. The whole world seems to grind to a halt as your gazes wrestle, the feeling in your stomach akin to the breath before the first drop of a roller coaster. The moment ends abruptly, before either of you are ready, and at the same time you step in a huge pile of shit, Arthur spills nearly the whole bottle of whiskey down the front of his shirt.

"Fuck!" You squeal in disgust.

"Goddammit!" Arthur curses loudly as he shoots to his feet so the alcohol doesn't splash onto his crotch.

Mary-Beth puts a scandalized hand over her heart at the fowl language, and Uncle coughs his way into a fit of laughter. In a squeamish panic you try in vain to wipe the shit off your shoe, though you only manage to make it worse as the mud proves to be even messier and smears the shit higher up the leather of your shoe. You can hear Arthur continuing to grouch and curse as he shoves the bottle at a wheezing Uncle and leans forward, plucking the fabric of his button-up off his chest in an attempt to stop it from sticking. Almost like an afterthought, Arthur begins flapping the shirt gently as if that'll help it dry faster.

"Better get you some new shoes as well," Mary-Beth suggests through a tight throat, trying her best not to laugh at your expense.

You level her with a very unimpressed glare (which does end up making her giggle) and squash your way to the stairs leading to the store. Once on solid ground you amble your way up onto the deck, trying your hardest not to stare at the sliver of exposed torso Arthur is revealing as he continues to hold his shirt off his stomach, the cotton completely soaked in alcohol.

Taught skin, a trail of hair, a muscled iliac furrow...

"Actually, Y/n?" Mary-Beth calls from behind you, you swivel around and realize belatedly that she hadn't followed you up, "I'm going to check on Karen an' Tilly in the saloon, why don't you an' Arthur go purchase some clothes together? Then we can all meet back up later!"

It shocks you that you feel slightly betrayed by her at the suggestion. You chance a glance at Arthur from the corner of your eye and find him staring at Mary-Beth much like a deer stares at headlights. Great. You valiantly reign in a groan and without another word, turn back around to push your way into the shop. Arthur is least likely to do anything harmful to you in front of a witness like a shopkeeper anyway, the sooner you get this over with the better.

--

Arthur spends another moment squinting suspiciously at Mary-Beth, who only smiles innocently at him before all but skipping off towards the saloon. Uncle has now devolved into slapping his knee in between taking swigs of what's left of the whiskey. Arthur wonders why the Almighty sees fit to test him so vehemently. After a moment of reflection he figures its the least he deserves considering the extent of his sins. Grumbling to himself, he tries not to stomp after her into the general store, mentally calculating how much money he has left on him as he shoulders open the stiff door. Upon entering the shop, the owner looks up and gives Arthur a polite if slightly confused wave -- probably recognizing him from when Arthur came in the shop earlier with Uncle. The shopkeeper promptly goes back to describing, with what sounds like great enthusiasm, various different outfits for...Y/n...to consider.

His heart reels at simply saying her name in the privacy of his own mind.

She's holding herself stiffly, probably as uncomfortable as Arthur is and for as many different reasons as Arthur is too. With the way her head is bent and her eyes track the movement of the shopkeeper's finger as he drags it across page after page, he can tell that despite her studious expression and how easily she nods along with what's being advertised to her, she's overwhelmed. Arthur isn't sure how he figures that exactly, but he does. Fighting with himself for a moment, he debates on whether or not he should insert himself into their conversation. He doesn't want her to misinterpret him and think he cares or anything, but she is taking forever and the slide of his wet shirt against his chest is growing more unbearable by the second.

"Just pick what you like best and get on with it," He grumbles at her, not too unpleasantly as to alarm the shop owner, but firm enough to encourage her to hurry the hell up.

Arthur had taken a few steps forward before speaking, it placed him very close to her side. Closer than he'd meant. He expects fear or hatred to color her expression as she turns to look up at him, but instead her face displays a confusing mix of gratitude, deep mistrust, and most hilariously the embodiment of the word: HELP. It honestly gives Arthur a headache to look at, not envious of the turmoil she's clearly experiencing right now in the slightest. He blinks at her for a moment before shifting his gaze down at the catalogue and flipping back a few pages.

"Do you prefer skirts, dresses, or pants?" Arthur bites out, not quite believing he's doing this, and stares pointedly at anything but her.

"Pants!" She answers in a rush, like she'd just been told she'd inherited a few grand from a dead relative.  

"Okay," Arthur drawls as he quickly finds the female pants section, the options limited to two different cuts, both of which look exactly the same to Arthur but he was never one for fashion (or so Dutch tells him).

"Pick," He instructs, sliding the catalogue back under her nose at the same time she leans in to take a look.

Arthur's temper rankles at how nice the warmth radiating off of her feels against the chilled skin of his chest, even through his soaked shirt. She takes a moment to consider the two different pants, and after what sounds like a defeated huff sheepishly points to the second one. The shop keeper nods and scribbles something down on a notebook he'd grabbed from a drawer behind the counter. Wordlessly Arthur then flips to the significantly more diverse selection of shirts and blouses, blushing furiously as he passes the women's undergarments.

Why in all hell had Mary-Beth not done this with her? She's a woman, surely that would make this more comfortable for Y/n?

But the woman in question seems unconcerned as she scans the options Arthur has displayed for her, nibbling half-heartedly on the fingernail of her right thumb as she appraises the many different tops. Arthur grits his teeth against the softness rising him. They need to hurry this up or he fears he'll...he'll...well he doesn't know, but he knows whatever it is, it's a final kind of feeling and god Arthur fears it. With the hand not pressed to her lips, she points to a plain looking button up, the cheapest one.

"Another." Arthur blurts.

He doesn't realize how that sounds until she shoots him a very indignant look.

"Pick one more for colder weather." He clarifies, mystified he had managed to say that without missing a beat and without stuttering.

Her temper relaxes back down to its usual simmer and she returns her gaze to the catalogue. After a few moments of silence she taps Arthur's hand that's spread wide over the upper edge of the book, calloused fingers holding the catalogue open flat on the counter for her. He snatches his hand back so fast it startles the shopkeeper. The owner gives the two of them an odd look but remains quiet, still wanting their money. She turns the page and points to the second least expensive shirt. It's of a similar cut to the first she'd chosen but the material is wool instead of cotton.

This process repeats for the coats, socks, shoes, gloves, and most embarrassingly -- undergarments. All the articles of clothing she chooses are the cheapest available. Something prickles in Arthur's chest when he realizes she's trying to be considerate. When the shopkeeper asks about her sizes though, she seems at a complete loss for what to say. It's like she's never shopped for clothes before. Though deeply curious, Arthur refrains from asking her anything, feeling like all the energy he had this morning has been thoroughly drained from him even though its only an hour past noon. He's exhausted and he doesn't quite know why.

The owner gives her a measuring look, eyeing her body proportions as best as he can from his spot behind the counter. The shopkeeper is not a proper tailor, so the wrinkle in the man's forehead isn't anything but confusion, and thus Arthur finds himself getting more and more agitated the longer the man stares at her. A breath before Arthur says something stupid, the owner turns and goes to retrieve the garments in the sizes he believes will fit her best. It only takes a couple moments, but its a couple moments too long to be left relatively alone with her. The tension between them is so palpable he could cut it with his hunting knife. The feeling worsens in intensity with each beat of his heart, nearly rising to insurmountable levels before it swiftly plateaus at the arrival of the shopkeeper, who returns with multiple garments draped over his forearm.

"Here Miss, go and try these on to make sure they fit." He instructs politely, nodding to a door down the hall just around the side of the counter.

With a quiet thanks, she collects the clothes and makes a beeline for the dressing room. Arthur doesn't realize his eyes follow her retreat, sticking to the dressing room door even after she disappears behind it, until the shopkeeper clears his throat. Arthur only scowls at him in response and orders a replacement shirt for the one he'd been wearing.

Thank god I didn't ruin my blue one, Arthur thinks as he pays for his new two toned muted grey and red button-up, and all the items Y/n had gotten.

Hosea and Dutch like to tease Arthur about his favorite blue and white striped button-up he's been hauling around for years now. It has holes, the seams are loose, the colors have faded, and it has permanent stains on it, but something about it feels...comfortable. More comfortable than anything else he's ever worn.

(Arthur refuses to acknowledge the fact that it's the first garment of clothing he bought for himself with money he'd earned all on his own, hence why it means so much to him.)

Arthur tries not to pace as he waits for Y/n to finish trying on all her various new clothes. He knows she has a lot to get through but --

"Oh," Arthur finds himself saying, easily gaining the shopkeeper's attention, "Her shoes?"

The shopkeeper raises a finger as his memory sparks and quickly goes to retrieve the humble looking pair she'd picked out earlier. When he brings them out, informing Arthur he'd given his best guess on the size, Arthur nods his thanks and takes the pair from him. Before he can second guess himself, he makes his way over to the dressing room door. Weary of the owner's eyes on his back, Arthur raps his knuckles in two deliberate consecutive knocks against the aging wood of the door. A series of sounds that suggest Y/n had been thoroughly startled puts a grin on Arthur's face without his permission.

"Your shoes," He starts, "I'm leaving them outside the door."

Arthur then demands himself to tell her to hurry up, but no words form, in fact his lips once again act against his will and gently press shut.

"Oh, okay," She replies tensely.

He hovers by the door another moment before the intimacy of talking to someone -- a woman no less -- like this really registers with him, then he thinks of how this probably seems to the shopkeeper and deep color promptly rises along his cheekbones. Arthur takes a shaky step back, then another, until he's in the front of the store pretending to browse the meager collection of pocket watches.

--

You wait until you hear Arthur's footsteps fully recede from the door before continuing to fumble with your undergarments. You have never so desperately wished for a simple modern bra in your life. The shopkeeper had suggested a corset of some sort, but with the clothes that you had picked -- pants, and a 'decidedly unfeminine looking' set of button ups according to the owner -- wearing a corset under all that seemed more of a hinderance than anything else. You'd ended up choosing a version of whatever shift thing you are currently wearing, as it provided enough support for the girls but didn't constrict you entirely like you figure a corset might. Most of the time spent in the dressing room has been you struggling to shuck off your current clothes without resorting to simply tearing them all off. Though you have been spending an equally egregious amount of time trying to correctly adjust all the little strings and ties and clips of your new shift. The slim bloomers you are wearing were made to be worn with the pants you'd ordered, and they were simple enough to slip on, though the extra fabric you'd have to get used to. You wonder idly if this is what it feels like to wear boxers as you finally finish securing your shift and pull the pants up the length of your legs. They fit surprisingly well, a little tight around the ass but in all honesty, at this point you don't care. You just want this torture over with.

The rest of your clothes you try on with more ease, everything fitting okay except for the coat that was about ten times too big but you find you kind of like it that way. Making sure to carefully remove your shit covered shoes without dirtying your hands, you gingerly place them by the door before replacing your used socks with your new ones. You gather your previous clothes up, hoping the shopkeeper has a bag of some kind you can use, and open the door. Infinitely grateful that no one else has walked into the shop, you quickly slip on the shoes Arthur has set neatly in front of the door like he'd said, and immediately find that they're too small. Ignoring your slight flush from all the changing and nerves from trying on so many foreign clothes, you approach the shopkeeper and politely request the next shoe size up. He nods and bumbles to the back again. When he brings you the next pair, you apologize for being such a hassle and quickly exchange shoes. You drop the new pair to the floor and lower to kneel as you stuff your feet in, praying these fit.

"Can we get something to wrap all this up?" Arthur's voice rumbles through you, like the bass notes of a song played at one of the clubs you used to frequent a lot your first year of college.

You clench hard against the urge to jump at how close he is, not having heard him come over as you'd been focused on figuring out how your new boots laced up. They reminded you a little of modern day men's work boots, comfortable and well suited for all the wilderness trudging you figure you'll be doing. The shop owner hands Arthur a few sheets of brown parcel paper, which Arthur immediately tosses down at you. You catch the squares of paper before it hits your face, ignoring his rudeness and weighing how helpful he's been to you in the shop against the desire to say something satisfyingly nasty.

Noticing your restraint Arthur wordlessly brushes past you, broad shoulders barely seeming to fit through the doorway of the dressing room, before closing the door firmly shut behind him. While he changes out of his wet shirt, you struggle to wrap up all your new clothes neatly, feeling bizarrely like you're wrapping a Christmas present when the shopkeeper hands you a rudimentary string to tie everything together. After you finally manage to wrangle all the clothes (save for your oversized coat and all that you're wearing out of the store) into a compact enough bundle, you take the second sheet of paper and repeat the process with your soiled clothes and ruined shoes. You feel bad about the shoes since you'd borrowed them, maybe you could scrub out the shit? Though you don't know how plausible that will be without the aid of stain remover and fabric softener.

You've just finished organizing all your belongings when Arthur emerges from the dressing room in his new shirt. The colors suit him, the fabric hugging him in all the right places too. With his dark hat, tan over coat, and heavy footfalls due to his boots, he almost --

Deeply alarmed at the direction that particular train of thought was going, you angrily remind yourself he's a bloodthirsty killer who would not hesitate to end your life if he thought it was necessary. Despite all that though, he did just pay for your clothing and help you navigate the shopping process with little to no complaints. Torn between saying nothing and thanking him, the habit to be courteous, ingrained in you by your mother, wins out.

"Arthur," It's the first time you've said his name, at least in direct address to him.

His name tastes dangerous on your tongue, a thrill not unlike taking a shot of something strong knowing you're already well over your alcohol limit. You'd stopped once you'd stepped out of the shop behind Arthur and he pauses with his back to you, going completely rigid, having just been about to wake up Uncle who lists precariously in a drunk stupor on the bench where you'd both left him.

"Thank you." That's the second time you've thanked this man, not fond of the fact that its slowly becoming a regular occurrence.

Arthur turns around after a moment and his eyes, shaded under the brim of his hat but very much visible now where they'd only been dark with violence before, are the first things your gaze is drawn to. They're really quite a stunning color, blue shot with green, like an ocean tide caught in a shallow tide pool. The brimming emotion in him blunders against the stiff wall of that anger you'd first caught a true glimpse of when you were tied to the tree, it holds an avalanche of sensation back. You marvel briefly at how it's held so much back for so long.

"You owe me thirty-two dollars and thirteen cents." He says in leu of accepting your gratitude with any sort of grace.  

You only glare, already having expected that he'd ask you to pay him back, though you figure it's the very least he could do after watching you suffer for nearly two weeks straight despite being completely innocent with no proof otherwise save their paranoid suspicions. Not to mention being wrongly accused of being an O'Driscoll and almost getting shot in the face by his gang leader for the apparent crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time! Unlike Arthur, you let your emotions flow freely, righteous fury undisguised and plain to see rotting away the last traces of the odd domesticity you'd formed with him in the shop.

"You, are one of the most fucked up assholes I have ever met." You say in a tone of voice you had only ever used with your abusive ex.

Instead of being taken aback at your words, you watch something in him rise to meet your anger -- a broken kind of relief overtaking his features, like he's finally back in his comfort zone. Something he's familiar with, something he's good at. It simultaneously sickens you and breaks your heart. Everything only ever defined in extremes when it comes to him. Before you two can really tear into each other though, the call of your names by a familiar voice pauses the cataclysmic collision that is moments away from occurring.

"Arthur! Y/n!" Mary-Beth pants as she jogs up to meet you both on the shaded deck, "Oh, Uncle! I didn't see him from over there," She huffs out in a laugh as she closes the distance between the three of you.

It doesn't take long for Mary-Beth to pick up on the truly foul mood Arthur and you share. Her face falls.

"Did, did the shopping not go well? I see you've..." She trails off as she takes in your new clothes.

You suspect in an attempt to lighten the mood, she puts her hands on her hips in mock disappointment and shoots Arthur a significant look.

"What in the blazes have you dressed her in Mr. Morgan? She looks like a ranch hand!"

Arthur seems to struggle to swallow the worst of his temper, apparently not wanting to take it out on Mary-Beth.

Oh so Mary-Beth deserves to be spared but not you?

Your bitterness towards him promptly deepens and suddenly you're exhausted. You miss Kieran -- no, actually you miss your home. You miss your own time. You miss your friends and family.  

"Don't look at me, she picked it all out herself!" Arthur deflects, holding his hands up in surrender.

Mary-Beth purses her lips at this claim but does eventually shift her gaze over to you. She immediately notices that your energy has plummeted, but you can't summon the will to care.

"But if you like it Y/n, then that's all that matters!" Mary-Beth rushes to assure, worried her comment about your fashion sense but more so your previous conversation with Arthur is working against her efforts to find some middle ground with you, to start building some semblance of trust.

You let her search your eyes and put together the realization that she failed. In fact you imagine instead of taking one step forward, you've taken three leaps back. But why bother with them anyway? There's no need to deal with these people any more than strictly necessary. You will find a way to return to your own time, and you're determined to figure it out by any means necessary.

--

Thoughts? Share them if you’d like!! xx

Masterlist

[loved-lefthaunted]

What are your thoughts on all the evermore songs?

oh my god. this is such a hard question for me so brace yourself. it’s taken me nearly 2 months to write this out and i still don’t think i’ve managed to encapsulate all my thoughts.

So, I have very strong feelings about evermore. I immediately loved it three times as much as folklore, for a variety of reasons. I can do a song-by-song breakdown alongside my general thoughts of the album below:

Firstly, I want to preface this by saying that I do not disregard the impact that folklore had on me prior to evermore’s release. I am not oblivious to the fact that folklore likely primed me for the sound that evermore had and that my mind was set up for a similar sounding album so was willing to receive it with more open ears.

That being said, I think that evermore is the superior album. The overall emotional range and sonic variety of the album is wider and more thought out. The different songs provide a more well-rounded listen in my opinion and give me much more emotional investment than folklore. Each individual song feels strong and there are far more songs with single potential than folklore.

So let’s get down to it:

1. Willow - iconic. The big sister that cardigan deserves. The song that I wish the Lover album had been. A song so fully devoted in such a soft and sweeet way without feeling sickly. A mature way to dedicate a song to the person that you can’t live without but in a way that doesn’t throw pink confetti at your face and tell single people to fuck off. TAKE MY HAND? OKAY TAYLOR. WRECK MY PLANS? FOR SURE BABES. THAT’S MY MAN? 100% FEEL U GAL.

2. Champagne Problems - LOOK. I AM CLAIMING THE NAME SAMPAGNE PROBLEMS FOR ALL FUTURE CONTENT. I want to be proposed to just so that I can reject them and then get wildly drunk on overpriced alcohol. It’s heartwrenching in a way that Taylor hasn’t been since the likes of Treacherous. It doesn’t throw sadness at you, overwhelm you with tears. It hides heartbreak within a soft piano riff and gorgeous imagery.

3. Gold Rush - a sapphic daydream. i cannot believe this is real. The return of a heart-thumping drumbeat and the most lovely, pure song that just describes the infatuation with someone beautiful and how you can wonder about them and be so happy about them and jealous of them all at once.

4. ‘Tis The Damn Season - this christmas song makes me wish i had a boy next door in my hometown that i could randomly sleep with. why don’t i have a fluffy hallmark holiday film based upon this premise? why isn’t there a christmas music video to show me how their interactions work during the holidays and how it differs so vastly with their normal lives? Why can i feel both the distance and the closeness that these two people feel? the cutest dedication to a very un-cute casual relationship. a bittersweet shout out to the people who make us happy for a few fleeting moments spread out over the long haul.

5. Tolerate It - i have very VERY strong feelings about this one. it feels like it both encapsulates romantic and non-romantic love so perfectly. It pairs perfectly with the likes of Closure (more on that later). We all deserve to be celebrated. In a world of people settling for less than they deserve, we should reach for those who deserve us. We are worth it. Find someone who will show us how worthy we are. It’s aching and slow and painful and just....everything. Just because someone has always been there doesn’t mean they deserve to continue to be there. Tolerating you is not the same as deserving your loyalty.

6. No Body, No Crime (feat. HIAM) - IT TOOK 14 YEARS BUT TAYLOR FINALLY MURDERED A MAN IN COLD BLOOD AND I AM HERE FOR IT. MEN ARE TRASH, LADIES. REMEMBER THIS. ENGRAVE IT INTO YOUR TOMBSTONES. TATTOO IT ON YOUR FOREHEADS. MEN AS AN ENTITY DO NOT DESERVE US. MURDER THEM. A YEEHAW DREAM. (I have no strong feelings about HIAM but the existence of Este’s name is a blessing in itself, their backing vocals are a lovely addition and a true testament to their friendship as we know how protective Taylor is about mixing business and friendship through collaborations)

7. Happiness - this song is HURTFUL. a song about growth, a song about finding yourself amidst the loss of a partner, a friend, a family member. a loss so deep that it will hurt you for years to come and take a piece of you away forever. but a loss that you have to be resigned to and grow from and let go of. the slow build of the backing is something i haven’t heard since Holy Ground. Both songs talk about loss and moving on in such starkly different ways but still encompass the feeling of reminiscing on something good and pure and perfect whilst battling the knowledge that it’s over and trying to be happy for the person now that they’re gone.

8. Dorothea - the sweetest girl in the neighbourhood. a childhood friend that we all miss having. a person we watched grow into something massive and successful and we’re so genuinely happy for them. the song encompasses the feeling of a distanced joy. a joy that has nothing to do with you, everything to do with this person that you’d be happy to accept again with open arms but will be equally as happy to watch succeed from a distance. a bouncy backing track and lovely vocalisations that really build a sense of a warm hug and the feeling of soft morning sun on your skin.

9. Coney Island (feat. The National) - alright. so i’m sat on a bench in the cold, wrapped up in a winter coat and a hat and gloves and a massive scarf that covers half of my face. i can see the air when i breathe out. there’s an empty ferris wheel at a deserted fairground and i can remember when it was alive and bustling and when i was surrounded by all of the people closest to me on a late summer’s day. and i miss them. i yearn for that to be back. the way we yearn for a time before covid, before masks and elbow touches and sanitising everything. a time when you could sit around a table with your friends and welcome someone with a hug and visit your family for the holidays. a time of joy that was so overlooked until it was gone. The presence of The National is also a breathtaking addition and truly deserved after Aaron’s input on both folklore and evermore. I’m glad they saved it for this song.

10. Ivy - this song just radiates GREEN. Am I in a forest? Am I just in a greenhouse, watering the plants? The guitar/banjo sounds make me so horrifically nostalgic for Speak Now era. The male backing vocals remind me that Taylor has evolved so far from the girl we used to exclusively listen in conjunction with Caitlin Bird and Liz Huett. 

11. Cowboy Like Me - one of the only songs I don’t really care about? it’s not bad, it���s just not great. it’s yeehaw without the accompanying passion. It’s the end of a sad, sad wild west movie. It’s a backing track in a scene of a TV show when someone is going on a journey alone to find themselves. But it’s nothing special.

12. Long Story Short - DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME. THE BEST SONG ON THIS ALBUM IN MY OPINION. THE STRONGEST BEAT, THE NOSTALGIA OF 1989, THE LYRICS OF RED, THE FUCKS GIVEN OF REPUTATION. THE PERFECT IMMERSIVE TAYLOR EXPERIENCE. TRULY A 10/10 ENTITY. I WILL HAVE THIS PLAYING AT MY GRADUATION. I SURVIVED.

13. Marjorie - the loss of a grandparent is always a lot. i’ve lost 2 due to Covid and it’s cut me deeper than I ever imagined. Marjorie is the 50′s sepia toned daydream that sends you flying back to being a child and being taught life’s most important lessons when you were far too young to understand them from someone so much wiser than you. It feels like I’m being taught to live again. Another build up backing track, but in such an uplifting way? A way that makes you think of the sun slowly coming out of the clouds. Of the end of a rainstorm and the start of a new day. Optimism and innocence. Peace and hope.

14. Closure - right, the return of sadness. The use of the clatter and discord in the background. The death of a Big Machine (subtle and perfectly done). She’s doing better. We all are. It reminds me of the friends I’ve lost and crave to have back but know I’m better off without. We have to let go of this. Close the chapter. You don’t even need the epilogue, it’s over. The production makes me so uncomfortable and it’s SO NECESSARY because lack of closure is UNSETTLING. It’s horrifying. It’s devastating. But the lyrics and the power of the song show how strong you can be and how important it is to push through the discomfort and continue to live.

15. Evermore (feat. Bon Iver) - the titular song. The return of Bon Iver’s vocals and the lone piano background are truly something to be commemorated for years to come. Although it lacks the painstaking hurt of Exile, this is one of her most simple pieces of artistry on this album and it’s BEAUTIFUL. Something that feels bare and raw. A song that cuts deep and shows us the true core of what she’s currently feeling right now: that although pain might feel forever, it’s not. all pain, much like joy, is fleeting and we have to feel it but we need to remember that it’s only a piece of our experience and place it into context. The song veers on self-pity and wallowing in hopelessness until the latter third, where suddenly hope rises out of the ashes alongside a slightly padded out production from Bon Iver’s vocals. A strong end to the album. This song sets us up for future albums on a note of optimism. It’s a new dawn. 

[border-spam]

Regarding ur pain snippet, would Troy feel comfortable venting around Sei? And if yes, how would they handle it??

Troy doesn’t feel comfortable venting about it with anyone. He’s spent his entire life trying to not be pitied while stumbling in the shadow of Tyreen’s blinding light, demanding perfection from himself to hide physical weaknesses and chronic illness from the greedy eyes of the billions of online followers who obsess over the twin’s every recorded breath.

But if you know God King Calypso well enough, if you’re close enough to him?

There are gentle ways to reassure Father Troy it’s safe to tell you the truth.

Sei and Troy are very close. 

They weren’t originally, it was actually Tyreen who was far more in tune with Seifa in those first couple of months together, back when the twins were recovering on her ship after their first failed attempt at surviving on Pandora.

Ty was engaging, a bubbly young woman full of endearing chattiness and interested in everything Sei did. A hundred questions an hour as she followed Sei around the ship like, what are sponsorships? How do you get marks to keep their eye on you and not be distracted by competition? How do you move to make them hungry for your body? How do you know when you’ve gone too far? How do you read the room? How do you - 

Tyreen had a million hows and a mouth that never seemed to need to rest, but Troy was silent. He had his reasons... he didn’t want to be there after all. 

Pandora had been cruel to them both from the moment their worn soles crunched into its acrid dust, but it had hurt Troy. Really, it had almost killed him.

He’d been left sick, uncomfortable in his own stretched skin, and wary of anyone who was other - which meant Seifa. Thinking back on it, she had been pretty insulted by how he’d acted in the first few weeks in her home, before she understood.

Tyreen on the other hand was thankful for her. She was a font of laughter and energy, flitting about the ship as her new friend worked and attempting to “help her” in thanks for the hospitality Sei had shown them, as if hindering her chores with constant interruptions was somehow going to pay her back for taking them in, but Troy? He was just... there. 

A looming, gangly shape standing awkwardly in corners. Rudely quiet, only proving he wasn’t mute through crackly whispers to his twin that would fall silent when Seifa would approach. A nervous, cagey giant of a child who came across as both irritated and terrified by Sei, till he’d finally talked, and he’d explained everything.

Tyreen had been the one who filled the ship with laughter in those first 6 months, but Troy had been the one to tell her the truth of things. 

They settled as companions, slowly.

By the time Seifa had accepted the twin's request to join their management staff in the early growth of the COV and had returned to Pandora, the friendship between the three was easy. 

Tyreen was still the focus of all attention mind you, it was still her who'd control the conversations and limelight when they'd meet each week in the "God Twin's" shared cloister to relax together in dropping their charades and becoming human again for a few hours.

Troy was happy just to sit between the women and smile as they eased into their drinks and each other's company on those nights. It was enough for him to simply exist next to people who liked his presence. There was warmth in those times, Sei's snorting laughter cracking a smile across his face he could never quite hide as she'd lean against the weight of his side, Ty insisting they watch as she theatrically reenacted how the day's encounter with off-world investors had gone. Never well for them, but always hilariously in her favor.

As the months turned to a year though, Tyreen just slowly stopped turning up.

They never really noticed as it happened, it was subtle, one missed night a month, then 2, then 3... It became Sei and Troy instead of Sei and the Twins.

The conversations would turn a little gentler without Tyreen's razor sharp energy to infect them, and they’d sit side by side, sharing snippets of each other's pasts, their hopes, and the things they both wanted from this newborn cult. Regrets sometimes, if the atmosphere was right.

The cloister slowly started to feel empty with just two people, and they knew deep down that Tyreen was unlikely to start joining again - she was far too busy with her God Queen persona and heaving fanbase to have the time to waste doing fuck all with close friends. The high walls and open space decor of the twin's shared quarters started feeling cold without her electricity, so they shifted to his ship instead. Troy's Sanctum.

She'd still turn up every so often, a couple of months of no appearances and then that crystalline laughter would ring through his quarters and they'd turn to raise a glass at the holy Vault Mother as she kicked off her boots with gusto and grabbed a seat, but eventually, that stopped too, and for quite a long time it was just Troy and Seifa on those nights, together in warm comfort.

A friendship that had bloomed into the easy, open kind where silence didn't mean awkwardness, where you could sit arm against arm and breath out the stresses of titles, and Godhood, and the crushing weight of responsibilities you never really asked for or wanted, and just... be. Just exist next to the reassuring presence of someone who never wanted more from you than what you could honestly give, because they knew who you really were, deep in your core.

It was Jak-Knife who joined next.

Troy's bodyguard had stood stoically outside his Sanctum's doors so many times that they’d become part of the evening, nodding at the Mechanicum's Saint as Seifa would arrive. Return her wink and knowing chuckle as they'd step to the side for her. It made sense they'd eventually find their way inside at his welcome, and the shared laughter in his home grew with their gruff warmth and open heart.

It was Ven, after.

The Oracle was impossible to avoid in general, he was a grandstanding assault on the senses with charisma almost as flamboyant as his dress sense, but the longer anyone spent around Ven, the easier it was to truly appreciate his company for what it really was. Someone who genuinely liked you for who you were, and not what his unique insight told him you could provide him in the future.

Troy had always had a soft spot for the gaudy soothsayer. Personal reasons maybe, he was the only one who knew what Ven had signed his life away to the COV in return for after all, and maybe that was why when Ven began to fill Sanctum with terrible stories and obvious lies about the beautiful people who fawned over him on benders in the Holy City's slums, it didn't take long before his delicate brother Eli joined them too. 

Seifa saw the connection even if the other's didn't, Eli's joint braces and medical equipment, the sadness in Troy's glances. Physical weakness, unashamed from someone so strong in character. She saw how Troy looked at the other man, the fleeting respect in those ice-blue eyes. The shame.

They became a unit in the end, Jk, Ven, Eli, Seifa, and their broken God King, a rickety family existing inside the guts of a monstrous one as the COV surrounded and spread through their lives with every passing day its grip across Pandora tightened.

But Seifa and Troy are very close.

They know each other, inside and out. They've shared their failures, illnesses, rages and tears. They are the keeper of each other's years of secrets. That he's so sick so often, that her right eye is practically blind, that he wishes he wasn't what he's turned into, that they are both so desperately lonely.

She knows how to manipulate him into being honest about the painful reality he carries in a body that's never really functioned well, that's gnawed at inside by half of a power no one understands enough to try and heal.

She perfected it by watching the other people who care about him.

JK, huffing theatrically as they eye an exhausted Troy's shaky hand as he forces himself to continue working, complaining that they are hungry, that he may be a workhorse but they need to rest, then chuckling at his blustery ego as he mocks them and takes the out.

Ven and his little white lies, his warnings that Troy needs to stop pouring over the latest viewer statistics and take a break, because he "got glances" at bad outcomes if they weren't left till later. The reassurances that everything will be fine and things will turn out better if he stops for the night.

Eli, explaining how the latest medication course Troy's medical team recommended really helped with the tension pull in his shoulders from his spinal issues, chatting in surprising detail about how relieving it's been, what dosage he's been taking...

Troy will not talk about his chronic issues with anyone, because he is terrified of appearing weak. She doesn't know why for definite, but she can guess, and is pretty sure it's related to his childhood. From the snippets he's given her, the emotionless monotone of his voice when he speaks about his father, well, she has hunches. 

Neither of the twins were happy as children, neither of them talk about "home" with even a vague sparkle of joy in their dead eyes. But Troy, he shies away from it, like there is something he's ashamed of, or the lingering ghost of something that haunted his early years and follows him still.

Troy is terrified of being pitied, because he so desperately wants to be seen as reliable. He wants to be strong. He wants to be useful.

So to get him to open up? You need to ask for his help.

Sei is a clever woman, and Troy is a lost, broken man who is so easy to wrap around her finger that sometimes she wonders at times if it's intentional.

When she sees him flagging, when his skin is a little lighter than normal, the dark under his eyes deeper, she'll play the damsel. She'll let him be the knight in shining armour that the little boy in him so clearly wishes it could have grown into. Sei will gasp gently when they are alone in his ship on these nights, pinch her lip between her teeth as she slowly rotates her wrist and stares sadly at the tremor that runs through it. She'll act it out, knowing he's watching, and wait for him to take the bait.

He always does - he can't help it. He'll always try and help her even when he's sick or exhausted. He'll always approach and ask if she's ok even if a migraine is rendering him barely able to stand.. because that's who he is. That’s the real Troy DeLeon.

She'll sit on the plush edge of the recessed couch in the floor of his Sanctum, and wait for him to shakily lower his towering body to the cushioned floor in front of her, before he gently takes her wrist in a hand that could easily crush it.

She'll wince, flutter her eyelashes with a gasp, and nod along to his muttered questions as he turns it so carefully, crankily asking when it last acted up, why hasn't she seen the specialist he contacted months ago, why she’s not taken time off when he knows he’s not working her that hard, why is she such a pain in the ass, how bad does it hurt, is he helping...

Seifa will wait, all quiet sighs and hitched breaths till he's so focused in shifting the tiny bones of her wrist under the pressure of his thumb that she can ask him how he feels, and he'll tell her.

That's the key. 

Troy Calypso is so terrified of being seen as less because of his pain, that he'll pretend it doesn't exist, he'll suffer in silence alone in the sorrow of his empty ship. But if he's protecting someone else? If he is massaging the old fracture in Seifa's wrist and lost in the concentration of trying to ease her distress? He'll tell her about his neck if she asks, or the pain in the dull hollow of his lumbar, or how he's thrown up 4 times today, how he woke up the other night and was sure his heart had stopped.

He'll mumble out secret fears he was hiding behind the God King's vicious mask for weeks, and he'll let her run fingers through his hair as she tells him how strong he really is.

[motheatenscarf]

DOS2 catchup thoughts, Reaper’s Coast edition because the entirety of that giant map is a fucking blur, mostly good, but my god, I did not have time to stop and talk about every fucking quest or I’d never have gotten through it, it took me like.... an entire weeks as is. But here’s companion stuff that mattered that I have like, emotions about!

I really liked the quest with Sebile and Ifan where you’re going to go kill the leader of the Lone Wolves, that did a lot for unraveling the mystery and I liked that we got to reconnect with that nice blind elf girl from Fort Joy who helped!

Sebile’s backstory gets sadder and sadder the more we get revealed, apparently she’s the single most important elf in the world upon whom all elvenkind relies upon for their survival after Ifan got tricked into delivering the doomsday weapon that annihilaed the elves! 

So... yikes for both of them, her for the identity crisis, and Ifan for the crisis of conscience of realizing what he was tricked into doing by the Divine he pledged his loyalty to. 

Again, I wish the companions were more vocal and would like... talk to each other, because I’d love to hear what Sebile and Ifan had to say to each other about these revelations, but given that you can play AS these characters, maybe you have to play AS Sebile or Ifan to hear their thoughts on the other’s backstories :T

I actually got taken out of it a little bit when Ifan was genuinely surprised that Lucian knowingly unleashed the deathfog on the elves, I figured that was the reason he’d lost his faith, and it made him seem... a lot more naïve than was really believable, but it illustrates the point that he’s loyal and believes the best of those people he pledges his loyalty to, almost like some sort of extremely sociable pack bonding canid, so I guess I get the reason for that.

But re: believable “I fucked up” backstories and feeling REALLY BAD for characters, holy shit, Fane ;__;

I know I already spoil everything, but no seriously, spoilers re: the entire game and p much the entire Divinity series because FUCK, DUDE.

Dialogue with him and his backstory made it pretty easy to figure out that the 7 gods of Rivellon were the 7 advisors he mentioned he gave his research to, but OOF, to find out they took his research and then condemned his entire race to save themselves and remake the world in their own vain image... blows. It’s all his fault, technically, because he stupidly assumed they’d be as devoted to knowledge as he was and not take the power for themselves. He never could have fathomed a.) what horrors lied beyond the veil he discovered (surprise: it was the void), and b.) that the 7 would have turned on their own kind like that.

And now he’s utterly disillusioned and absolutely despairing and doesn’t see the point of anything because his people are all condemned to the Void and I think maybe ARE the Voidwoken?? So they’ve been turned into monsters... and he had a wife and child??????? And he keeps not mentioning them, aside to say that they always came second to his research, and I feel kinda bad continuously reminding him of them in dialogue because it seems kinda like he’s Trying Not To Fucking Think About That so as not to collapse into utter despair, and also because I’m pretty sure that’s gonna bite me in the ass! If I keep reminding him of them, he’ll only be all the more determined to undo his mistake! Which means he will for sure be dead set on becoming Divine!

And I don’t even wanna be Divine, I WANT TO KILL THE GODS, but I haven’t gotten to the point where I can craft the godkiller sword yet >:T

So if it doesn’t let me kill the gods and try to un-break the world, or at the very least let me fucking talk to Fane more, I can see this betrayal coming a mile off. It’s gonna be Solas all over again. 

And that’s fair, tbh, I don’t blame him, but GOD I wish there was more dialogue with him!!! Just the chance to talk to him and show him the world that exists as it is so he can have a chance to have an actual connection in this world. 

The point of RPGs is to make friends and kill gods, and I’m at the point where it’s pretty late in the game and neither seems to be happening and it’s a huge bummer but I’m trynna stay positive. I know for sure how to win Ifan and Sebile’s friendship (killing Alexander and The Master respectively). Here’s hoping Fane’s goals align with mine and he’s down to kill all gods. Cuz if he’s not that’s gonna suck. 

[thefigureinthecorner]

finished the covers for my caleb and adam playlists! putting them together because like......... i have to. i can’t separate them

there is a caleb/adam playlist too but i’m gonna post that cover separately bc i have a different idea for that one

playlist notes under the cut!

caleb

yes, this playlist is 40% sleeping at last. no, i am not going to apologize for that. they have an album called emotions, it was kind of impossible to not use those songs.

falling for the first time- barenaked ladies: this gives me some strong caleb vibes, and i think it’s because it’s kind of an upbeat but also vaguely self-deprecating song? i mean, come on. I'm so cool, too bad I'm a loser/I'm so smart, too bad I can't get anything figured out/I'm so brave, too bad I'm a baby/I'm so fly, that's probably why it feels just like I'm falling for the first time

son- sleeping at last: And I will try, try, try to breathe 'til it turns to muscle memory I'm only steady on my knees One day I'll stand on my own two feet And I'll run the risk Of being intimate with brokenness Through this magnifying glass I see a thousand finger prints On the surfaces of who I am

soul meets body- death cab for cutie: it’s got some caleb/adam elements, but ultimately i chose to use it as a caleb song, because it feels more specifically like caleb seeking out adam’s emotions because they make him feel more like himself; So brown eyes I'll hold you near/'Cause you're the only song I want to hear/A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

joy- sleeping at last: i just really love the way emotions are described in the songs on this album (well, except for fear, which has no lyrics and is also not on this playlist). i also just really love The clumsy start of adolescence/The glue that mends our broken remnants/An overwhelming sense of reverence/It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold for caleb

a new mission- josh whitehouse: ah. this song. this was the song that made this playlist really, really difficult to make, because it was the first song i added and it set a very high bar for literally every other song on the playlist. it just feels so perfect as a caleb song to me, especially early on, when he was still figuring things out and he was constantly overwhelmed by all the feelings around him and in him.

Sometimes I can't control a feeling that I get inside my chest Even with those who are close to me, the ones I call my best I lose sight of all my confidence, in a heavy single step It's happened ever since my childhood, things I thought I'd put to rest I can keep my mind intact by getting on with a new mission I can push myself, having heavy ammunition When something gets me down, for a second I'm distracted I look back amongst the lights I consequently lit my path with

anger- sleeping at last: I mean, it kinda feels like this song has to be on here, yknow? especially with this part, which genuinely feels like how caleb describes anger sometimes: Like wildfire, it starts in my chest/The silence grows louder, ringing out in my head/I feel the Earth shaking under my feet/I feel the pressure building until I can't breathe/And it takes everything/And it all spills out, reckless but honest words leave my mouth

if i say- mumford and sons: aaand now we’re at the sad part of the playlist, because i can’t make happy playlists apparently. this one is definitely a safehouse caleb song; Show me your hands/Are they cleaner than mine?/Show me your face/Did you cross the line?/Show me your eyes/They any drier than mine?/Your soul survives/But peace, you'll never find

organs- of monsters and men: also a safehouse song, but more aftermath than in the middle of things. it’s sadder, more subdued.

sorrow- sleeping at last: more safehouse! who would’ve guessed!

I feel out of focus, or at least indisposed As this strange weather pattern inside me takes hold. Each brave step forward, I take three steps behind. It's mind over matter-- matter over mind.

Slowly, then all at once A single loose thread and it all comes undone

up with the birds- coldplay: caleb likes coldplay, so i had to include one of their songs, and this one is just. kind of perfect?

The sky is blue, Dreamed that lie 'til it's true, Then takin' back the punch I threw, My arms turn wings, Oh, those clumsy things Send me up to that wonderful world And then I'm up with the birds

--

adam

some of these songs are here for tone; the line between what adam would listen to and what helps me draw him is very thin compared to most characters. i did try to make sure they were all songs that fit him at least a little bit, though.

all the kids are depressed- jeremy zucker: i mean. i feel like the title kind of speaks for itself here, honestly. also the lyrics fit pretty well. there isn’t a ton of explaining that needs to be done for this one.

three- sleeping at last: yes i am back on my sleeping at last bullshit no i don’t care this song is perfect go look at the lyrics they’re all good here’s some of them: Maybe I've done enough/Finally catching up/For the first time I see an image of my brokenness/Utterly worthy of love/Maybe I've done enough

velodrome- dessa: this was one of the songs i included primarily for the tone; it’s one of the songs i listen to full volume on my Nice Headphones when i’m feeling too much at once because it kind of just gets rid of everything somehow. it just creates this kind of,, pleasant hollow feeling, if that makes any sense at all. but i realized after i added it that some of the lyrics do kind of fit: With a bell to tell us when we're hungry/There's a bell to tell us when we're tired/A bell that tells us to rise and fight/A bell to rise and die/It's just all bells/Sometimes I ring myself/To see if I might chime

drowning- jay brannan: a lauren playlist song, because like. fuck. that is all i have to say on this song: fuck

trapdoor- twenty one pilots: adam is a top fan because of course he is. i listened to this one a lot in high school so i’m passing it on to adam, and it also felt like a good follow-up to drowning

marching bands of manhattan- death cab for cutie: god this song is perfect. also, another song i listened to a lot in high school.

And it is true what you said That I live like a hermit in my own head But when the sun shines again I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound But while you debate half empty and half full It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown

nine: sleeping at last: god, this song. it fits way too well and it hurts. it’s genuinely difficult to choose lyrics from this song, and i recommend looking at the full lyrics because holy shit, but like

Who am I to say what any of this means? I have been sleepwalking since I was fourteen Now as I write my song, I retrace my steps Honestly, it's easier to let myself forget

Still, I check my vital signs Choked up, I realize I've been less than half myself For more than half my life

Wake up; fall in love again Wage war on gravity There's so much worth fighting for, you'll see Another domino falls either way

better days- radical face: 90% of my playlists have radical face songs. adam especially needed one, though, because his playlist notes mentioned he’d probably actively seek out queer artists, and also there was a youtube q&a where ben cooper said he never writes songs while he’s happy, and honestly the whole discography has adam vibes imo. anyway: When you're always drifting out to sea/Because the ground won't stay beneath your feet/And your head is pouring gasoline/On the person you prefer to be/Try to remind yourself/That it's probably gonna take some time/But there are better days to find

the little things give you away- linkin park: it just has that drowning vibe. i mean, it makes sense, they reference drowning, like, a lot in the song, but i feel like the tone of it adds a lot to that too. like, i can feel that guitar, you know? or maybe that’s just me. idk, it just works, i think.

in a week- hozier: you ever just listen to this in a dark room lying on your back with your eyes closed and yeah? because like, i do sometimes, and i kinda feel like adam does too. i needed a hozier song on this playlist and this felt like the most fitting one to add, and a nice subdued end to the playlist.

[branwen-lavellan]

Love Bites

ZevranXCousland for @14daysofdalovers​.  NSFW.

It had been some time since Zevran had come to Odette’s tent, but he hadn’t been sure then. He hadn’t known what his feelings meant. He hadn’t known if she’d return them, or if their relationship was just sex to her. Now, he knew: whatever it was that he felt, whatever existed between them was real. It went way deeper than sex, and she felt it too. 

He pressed down on top of her, and she bucked her hips into him and pulled at his shirt. He understood. It had been many nights, and he felt equally desperate for her. 

He laughed. “You are certainly eager, Mi Amor.”

“Just shut up and fuck me!” she snarled. 

Normally, that would have driven him wild, but so much had changed for him. He pulled back, pushing to his knees and crawling off of her. 

Odette jumped up to a sitting position, her knees drawn in, a scowl on her face. “So I guess we’re not doing this, then?” she said. 

Zevran was truly baffled. He hadn’t meant to end the night, just to shift, to talk a moment, to figure out what exactly was going on between them. In all his years as both an assassin and a lover, never once had he made a mistake that felt as fatal as pulling back just now had been. He shook his head. “Can we not talk?”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “What is there to talk about?”

“Odette-“. He paused. She was a woman who nursed pain with anger. He knew that well, and so he knew he had to choose his next words carefully. After what felt like ages, he settled on, “you know I love you, yes?”  He said it with the lilt he normally carried in his voice - that sing-song tone that he had cultivated as a front so that the world would think he didn’t have a care. 

Odette looked up at him and the scowl on her face relaxed. He had that effect on her.  It was why she was in his tent now and not Alistair’s, even though he had promised his unyielding love through the symbol of a rose. Odette wasn’t looking for promises, because she didn’t believe that she had a future. It was only in the past few weeks, only after surviving a fight with Rendon Howe and bringing about his death that she had begun to question what the future might hold. But Zevran had no clear plans for the future either, and he never showed that it bothered him. He’d learned that Odette’s attraction to him was, in part, that she wanted to be like him. She wanted to look on the dark cruel world with a smile. 

A smile or a scowl, both were just defense mechanisms. She would learn that in time. He would help if he could. But he was only just now working through his own trauma. He wasn’t what she needed, but he would have to do. 

He looked into her face, the scowl gone, but replaced with cold stoicism. His Amor had many strong suits, but vulnerability was not one of them. 

“If you know I love you, why would you assume that’d I’d leave now?”

She shrugged, and the scowl returned. “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you haven’t come to my bed in a week has something to do with it.”

He scooted closer with a laugh. “Did I not tell you that I just wanted to be sure, first?  Well, as I’ve said, I have never been more sure of anything in my life. I know exactly where I want to be, and, for the first time, I have the freedom to be there. And there is here - right here. With you.”  

She huffed, and for just a brief second, he saw her cold exterior crack. It wasn’t much, but through it he glimpsed the pain, the grief of her loss, the insecurity, the fear, and that little spark of love and passion that he’d learned to coax out of her. 

He continued his work, hoping to pry it open.  He scooted closer, brushing his nose against hers. “I have quite a lot to say on the matter, and I have no intention of ‘shutting up,’ as you put it. Now, the fucking, that can be arranged.”

She giggled, but only a little. “Sorry,” she said, hanging her head, pulling back from him. “I just-“

“Say it, Amor.”

She gulped.  “I want you so badly sometimes, I forget myself.”  

She scooted back a hair and folded her arms around her knees, which she had pulled tightly to her chest. His brave Warden, their seemingly fearless leader, who always kept her cool, who was strong for each and every one of them when they couldn’t find the strength themselves, was gone. Before him sat the real Odette Cousland, a person that, to his knowledge, only he had ever met. She seemed smaller when the front was gone, and she looked older and so dreadfully tired. She was only nineteen, so incredibly young. He had a good eight years on her. Yet, in these moments, she looked older than him. He always thought that he’d been through so much, that he’d suffered so much, but he realized now that, despite the horror he’d seen, he was lucky to have very few memories of his life before the Crows. It was the knowledge of what she’d lost that left her so distraught.  He hadn’t known her before, but he suspected that whoever she had been had died at Howe’s hands along with her father and mother.

“What else?”

Her lip trembled. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of wasting time.”

“Wasting time?”

“How many times have we faced death in the last week?” she asked, “how many more times will we be able to do this before-“

“No, mi Amor,” he said, brushing her blonde hair behind her ear, revealing his earring. “A month ago, I could not have told you what tomorrow will hold, but now I know that it holds a future for you and me, yes?”

“Where will we go?”

“Why, anywhere we want!”

“What will we do?”

“Anything we want.  And,” he said with a wiggle of his brows, “I suspect each other. A lot.”

She looked down at her hands, still healing from the number she’d done on that tree. Her face contorted, and her eyes grew wide in horror. “And when I hear it?  My calling?”

He pulled her close and held her. “Then you and I will face the Deep together, my love.”

She broke his embrace only to reach his lips, to drink him in. He lowered her down to her furs once again, and she scooted into position beneath him. He rutted into her, but this time was met with the slow grind of her hips. 

He pulled away from her lips and shifted down until his lips met her neck. “We have time,” he said, between planting kisses. “We will make time.” 

She panted under him, and her fingers knotted into his hair. 

He bore down harder, letting his kisses linger at first, then sucking and nibbling, having every intention to leave a mark. She moaned beneath him. 

“Tell me,” she cried, “ tell me what we’ll do when this is over.”

He licked a stripe up her neck, then nibbled the lobe of her ear. She yelped as he pulled away, her lobe trapped between his teeth before it snapped out of his grasp. “I’ll take you to Antiva.”

“Yes,” she sighed. 

He popped open the buttons of her tunic one by one, slowly, teasingly, as he returned to her neck. He bit down harder, and she gasped, pulling his hair so hard it brought tears to his eyes. He loved it.

“More,” she said, “tell me more.”

“We‘ll eat Oysters by the docks,” he said, “they do wonders for the sex drive.”

Her tunic now open, he wrapped his arm around her and lifted her just long enough for her to shrug it off. Then she pulled at the string of her brassiere until it came loose. She ripped it off and chucked it away.  He laid her back down, trailing his love bites down her neck, over her collar bone, finally coming to rest at her left breast. 

“Maker!” she cried, “oh fuck!  What else?”

He reached a hand down to her trousers and began to untie them. “I will get you drunk on Antivan wine. We will stay in the finest inns with silk sheets and balconies that overlook the sea.”  He slipped his hand into her untied trousers and searched until he found his prize. He slipped his fingers over her clit with ease and pulled free again -ever the tease- to find that they were coated in her slick wetness. 

“Maker, don’t stop!”

His patience was waning, to his shame. He tugged her pants free and shed his own clothes as quickly as he could, then wasted no time in sliding into her. She arched at his entry and opened easily for him.

 “Keep talking!” she said.

“I will take you like this again and again and again under the Antivan stars!”

“Yes!” She moaned.

He pulled her closer, and returned to his spot on her neck, breaking free only to tell her his plans. “We will rid the world of the Crows, together. We will cut them down one by one.”

Her nails scraped down his back. 

“We will return once more to your family home and restore it to its former glory.”

She sobbed, with pleasure or grief, he couldn’t tell, but he kept going. “We’ll travel to Orlais and revel in their finery. I'll take you to the Grand Tourney in the Marches. We’ll see the Necropolis in Nevarra. We’ll see the world.”

He was nearing his climax. He could feel the heat building in his loins. Based on the way Odette’s eyes were squeezed shut and the way her mouth hung open, so was she. 

“And?” she screamed. 

He came hard. He saw white, and his whole body tensed till his muscles shook. He didn’t think about what he said, he just let the words pour forth without reservation, stammered in the heat of his ecstacy. “I’ll marry you,” he said. As the wave of his orgasm subsided, he felt her clench around him and knew she, too, had reached her peak.  He continued thrusting into her, over and over as she came, her face contorted into a silent scream. “I’ll marry you.  In a Chantry. Before our friends. Before the Maker.”

Something stirred in him like the holy flames of Andrate’s pyre in his chest. His future was illuminated by its flames. He would wed her, an act that he never could have dreamed possible before, but now was the only path he could envision himself walking. He clung to her and began to laugh, a true laugh.  He had nothing to conceal, no pain to ease. Just pure joy. 

Odette smiled beneath him, and the tiredness and age and pain melted from her face. “Marriage, huh?  I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Is that a no?” He laughed. 

“Not at all,” she said. She nipped at his ear this time with a grin. “And Antiva sounds perfect.”

[moderndaybard]

2020 Weekly Ficlet 5/52(? We’ll see?)

“Always Meant to Be” (Critical Role C2 AU)

  No one was surprised the baby was a tiefling—Honestly, Kashaw and Zahra would’ve been more surprised if their son hadn’t been—but the lavender skin was unexpected, as were the handful of eye-shaped red spots on the infant’s neck, shoulder, hand, etc. Still, he was here, he was healthy and alive (no small miracle, given how close all three had come to dying in the battle against Vecna)—he was perfect.

Lucien (“just a placeholder name,” Zahra had insisted; “he’ll choose his own once he has a better sense of himself.”) was a happy baby, if not an easy one. Even early on he liked people, and didn’t fuss about which of them or their friends was holding him, but the instant he could crawl about on his own, it took near-constant vigilance on the part of both of his parents to ensure that Lucien’s seemingly endless curiosity didn’t drive him into dangerous situations, places, and ‘good gods, Lucien don’t put that in your mouth!’

Still, as Kashaw watched his son explore and learn so quickly, or play with Zahra as she sang and joked in rapid infernal, or when he held him close against his chest the few times Lucien was content to remain so still, holding him as he drifted to sleep, utterly content and so innocently trusting, Kash was struck again and again by the realization that this very joy he’d long considered out of his reach was  somehow a reality.

Gods help the fool who tried to take it away from him.

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

(Actually, they didn’t.)

Kashaw and the then two-year-old Lucien were in the Vesper Timberland not far from Vasselheim’s walls gathering a few components needed for Zahra’ next commissioned creation. (Dangerous place for a toddler? Maybe, but preferable to leaving him home alone with Zahra being called out last-minute on a hunt for the Slayer’s Take. No matter: Luci knew to stay close when Kash used his ‘serious voice.)

Then came the blast of necrotic energy from the shadows at the edge of the clearing that caught Kash of guard and sent him crashing to the ground for a moment, and six dark-robed and hooded figures stepped into the open, five of them immediately moving to surround the temporarily-stunned human, the apparent leader snatching up the frightened tiefling toddler.

“DADDY!!”

His son’s terrified shriek ringing in his ears, Kashaw surged to his feet, spear in one hand, the other crackling with unholy holy energy as a rage he hadn’t felt since Vecna loomed filled him. He surged forward, pushing past and carving through the fools trying to stand in his way, never tearing his eyes from the man who still held Lucien, the stranger backpedaling and calling to his unfortunate fellows: “Death to the traitor; the Heir must be taken back to the Order!”

Those were the last words heard or spoken by the would-be attackers and their ringleader, as they had vastly underestimated both what Kashaw was capable of and willing to do under the circumstances. Scooping the now-sobbing but thankfully unharmed child into his arms, Kash let himself sink to his knees, clinging to his son as it washed over him all at once just how close he’d come to losing him.

Two tiny hands clung to his shirt and a little tail wrapped tightly around his arm as Lucien trembled in his grasp, but Kash’s blood ran cold as he glanced at one of the fallen attackers and saw a familiar symbol around his neck—

—the same one he carried. Her symbol.

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

They’d spoken of an ‘Order’: the assumption had to be made that this—this cult of Vesh’s had other groups, other members who’d try to attack them again.

No.

No, neither Kash nor Zahra were about to sit back and simply wait for followers of a dark goddess to try to kill them and abduct their son—and their friends weren’t about to let them take on this fight alone.

They chose to relocate to Whitestone at Vex’s insistence until the danger had passed (it was the safest place both to use as a base of operations and to leave Lucien with the de Rolo children under Vex and Trinket’s watchful eyes when the ‘hunting party’ left to chase down one clump of enemies or another), and had the full arsenal of Vox Machina, plus the unexpected but welcome assistance of an apparently now adventure-ready Cassandra, to call upon in their hunt—even Taryon and his crew, when a fragment of Her cult was found (and subsequently annihilated) in Wildemount.

But at last, after a long year of rumor-chasing and fighting cultists, the last member of the last holdout was dead, and Kash still had 3 of his 5 ‘Speak with Dead’ questions left, and plenty of time on Pike’s ‘Zone of truth.’ Why not tie up a few lingering loose ends?

“What was your interest in my son, Lucien?”

The dead man’s expression didn’t—couldn’t—change. “At first, we thought that child was the Heir that She had whispered of. We came to realize that he is nothing more than the usurping spawn of the woman who took Her place with you—and sought to kill you all.”

Was it possible to kill a dead man again? Kash was tempted to see—so was Zahra, if the lashing tail was any indication—but there was still something important here. “What heir did ‘She’ speak of?”

“A child born of Her spirit and your mortal blood, who we were to find and raise and teach and train until the day when She could use their blood and nature to come fully into the world.” If a corpse could emote, the broken, breathy voice would’ve been saturated by a sickening devotion. “That was our highest purpose—and the Heir’s.”

“And where is this Heir?” It was a long shot—if the cult had located this child (his child? He was still having trouble thinking clearly about that), then surely they would’ve taken them by now.

The corpse tensed, visibly fighting against the compulsion to speak—and to speak the truth—but divine (and ‘divine’) magics had already conquered its will.

“There were whispers—rumors—we were to investigate…a single life where there once was none, in the wastes where once She first displayed her power…”

Then the lifeless body fell limp once more, as all eyes turned to Kashaw as the cleric began to process what they’d just heard.

“Well, fuck.”

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

The others had offered to come along on this final, unexpected leg of the hunt for Vesh’s cult, but Kash and Zahra had adamantly refused: this, this part was deeply personal.

They rested only a single night before traveling to the wasteland that’d once been Kash’s home so long ago, and little was said between them either that night, or through the next day’s wearying trek and search under grey, cloud-cloaked skies.

It was a barren, inhospitable place, now—not hard to believe it was cursed by an evil goddess of death—with no sign of shelter or permanent dwelling: hard to believe that anyone, much less some kind of ‘child’ was surviving there.

The thought had only just crossed Zahra’s mind when a flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye: something small and quick darting behind a nearby boulder. With a seemingly casual flick of her tail, the warlock alerted her lover before drifting slowly in the general direction of the large rock.

From behind it, there was the sound of hasty scrambling backwards, then what sounded like gravel and a small body falling a brief distance, followed by a muffled, barely-audible whimper of pain and fear. A child’s pain and fear, the mother knew, and whatever plans and assumptions she’d come there with, when she circled the boulder and saw the hidden drop-off perilously close behind it, a curled and pitiful, dirt-covered figure trembling at the bottom of the five-foot ledge, maternal concern over-wrote them all.

Carefully easing herself down the drop, Zahra knelt beside the child—the girl, she could see, now—murmuring the most soothing tune she could think of (it was a lullaby…in Infernal…) as she reached out to the rail-thin, dark-haired figure. The girl couldn’t be any older than seven, staring up at the tiefling woman with terrified, mis-matched eyes of teal and purple beginning to well with tears as she pressed back into the rock wall, cradling the arm that had to have been broken.

“It’s alright, little one,” Zahra whispered, switching to Common as she reached out again, palm up. “We can help you. He can heal you, and we can bring you somewhere safe, and warm and comfortable.”

Kash had joined them, and her words seemed to snap him out of staring at the girl and into motion to help. The girl eyed him warily as he knelt in front of her, glancing at Zahra before finally letting him touch her injured arm. The trifling’s nod and gentle smile (and the cleric’s spell which re-knit the cones and soothed the pain away) seemed to break through the child’s walls, and as she let fall the tears she’d been fighting back the whole time, Zahra scooped the girl’s too-small form into her arms, muttering a stream of ‘it’s alright’s’ and ‘you’re going to be okay’s’ in Common and Infernal.

Still cradling the child, Zahra met Kash’s troubled expression with a determined one. “No mother worthy of the title would ever leave a child alone in a pace like this. She’s ours now.” Then, gently stroking the head of dark hair now buried in her shoulder, she asked, “Do you have a name, little one?”

“Yasha,” a tiny, tear-choked voice replied.

Zahra kissed the top of the girl’s head, silently thanking her patron that they’d found Yasha before the cult had—this girl was so desperate for someone, she’d have been so easily misled, manipulated. “Well, Yasha Hydris, are you ready to come home?”

(Continue reading on AO3)

[cupsofsuga]

ot7 yandere meeting your parents and your parents not liking them💘💫

BLOODLINE  ━ YANDERE BTS REACTION*:･。.

WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

Thank you for requesting, angel!

KIM SEOKJIN

━━━ You and Jin have known each other for your whole lives, never spent a moment without each other. You often reminisce of the times where you’d both ride your bikes through town together or spend nights under a fort you two created, trying your best to hush your own laughter in fear of waking up a parent. The innocence of your childhood was what you missed and now that you’ve grown into a teen, the atmosphere and neglect of childlike joy are now tangible. That’s where Jin comes in, like some sort of superhero wearing a cape with a cheesy slogan. He is there to heal the scorching sensation in your heart and to fight off the sorrows that dared to linger in your head. Upon seeing this newfound connection, your parents didn’t favor the idea of you spending time with that certain boy the called “trouble”.

No worries, though. You’re a teenager, you use bitter lies like it’s your very own sword. You crouched and climbed through each other’s windows during nightfall acting like inmates when all you really were was lovers. Hushed laughter turned to quiet whispers to avoid getting caught, and Jin hated acting like this infatuation was supposed to be kept at secrecy. How could they act like loving somebody was such a crime? How can they take away this soul he needs in his life in such a vicious manner? Those were questions that quickly vanished when you two would go elsewhere than each other’s rooms, finding an open woodland space and trying to remember the names of constellations or to gas stations at 4 am just to laugh as you did years ago. Spending even just a few seconds in your arms is what makes his anger subside and he can feel pure again.

These moments with you feel like they’re eternal, even though they’re spent in the dead of night, scared of the eyes of your parents. You both are 17, which means 1 more year until he can scoop you into his arms and escape this deadbeat town. Whatever the future had planned for him, he won’t care about a thing as long as he gets to spend the rest of his days with you by his side.

“I know we’re only just kids, but, God, Y/N… I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you…”

MIN YOONGI

━━━ The two of you eat in bitter silence. Your mother, once again, shared her much-unneeded opinion about him. She insulted him, mocking him of his weight and claiming he couldn’t defend you in any way. It angered you, severely, and you held a tight grip on your fork to hold yourself back from exploding at her. Seconds of silence go by, ticking away like the deafening echo of a clock. But then, under the dinner the table, you feel a tenacious grip on your hand. Yoongi holds and squeezes onto your palm like he is about to be devoured by the darkness of our galaxy and he clings onto a single star for dear life. He holds onto you like you’re a lifeline and without your touch, he’d die in the most miserable, violent way possible.

Her comments hurt him and he couldn’t defend himself with his poor, weak fists. Her few words made him feel small, defenseless, like a small bunny rabbit against an entire pack of hungry wolves. Tears build up as the insecurities scatter his mind like the raindrops of a heavy storm. Yoongi starts to shake and tremble, trying to hold these inevitable tears back and not let his emotions go rampant at the dinner table, which already had a disastrous mood that lingered around everyone. Luckily, you noticed, tightening your grip on his hand (if that was even humanly possible anymore) and walking straight out of the house, not without a cold “fuck you” directed to your mother.

His tears flow out like a goddamn waterfall down his cheeks. Down, down, down they go as his choked sobs fill the midnight air. Such a melancholic time to be in. The embers of the sun cannot bring warmth to Yoongi’s soul, anymore, and he must cry in the saturated light of the moon. The idea gives off pandemonium of sorrows, but then you come. Your arms are locked tightly around his petite figure, letting him shake with sobs in your grasp as you coo and reassure him that her cruel words don’t mean a thing. But then, there it is. There’s the sun, he can feel the warmth on his face. Yoongi can feel the seraphic scintillation of sunbeams embrace and kiss him softly. And although there is no sun, only the moon, that won’t take away the serenity of this moment.

“Please, please, please… Don’t let me go. Don’t ever let me go… Please…”

JUNG HOSEOK

━━━ Phantoms of unheard ghost lie in your heavy heart. Their insults towards your lover hurt like stab wounds and come like bullets. Every second circling around Hoseok is golden and eternal and you question about your parent’s blindness to his pure aura. He is so, so very joyful resting in the wrath of your presence that it turns physical. It twists and turns his heart in such a pleasurable matter that their heavy, bitter words don’t even give him the slightest of bruises. Like a perceptible weight of seraph that weighs down gently on his chest. Like the freedom of summer, or like a solemn melody that reverberates blissfully in your head. Entirely single fleeting moments spent in utter enchantment, where worries fail to exist.

Every second spent with you is the exact moment where the noose nestled on his neck breaks loose and he can breathe.

Hoseok feels with his heart instead of his fingertips. He cries tears of mercury instead of water. He smiles with the beams of the moon instead of the sun. He is an inhuman creature, an angel or a siren of some sort. Many were quick to fall under his magic way of seething joy, but they never mattered, only you do. That’s all he ever desired, after all, was your affections intended solely for him and him only. So, when your parents mocked and insulted him of being too soft and sensitive, he was quick to brush them off. It’s ok. He doesn’t care about them at all. Only your opinion mattered, anyway, and he’ll do anything to validate and lionize whatever thought crossed your mind.

“It’s ok, Y/N… I only care about you and you only… Please don’t let their words get to you. It hurts me to see you in pain…”

KIM NAMJOON

━━━ You spend your days drinking moonlight straight from the glass and bathing in fields-worth of flower petals. You wear the earth on your body, sleep in river streams and taste of the brightest stars. You may be a witch, you may be a God, or you could just be Y/N. Y/N. A name that has the void in his chest filled to the brim with galaxies, planets and the light of a billion stars. A name that is the only cure to heal his shattered and bruised heart. A name that is said with the blood of holy gods but with the softness of a goddesses touch. The name that is equivalent to a lullaby and is sung from the angels that dance and sing within his own heart.

But… what’s this? You parents have failed to see his love for you…? How could this be? Namjoon has shown nothing but pure, loyal devotion for you and they see him as nothing but some stupid imp!? That can’t be, it won’t be! He wouldn’t let this become a reality!

Namjoon becomes suffocating and intolerant, but he is desperate in times like this. You reassure him your parent’s opinions surely doesn’t make your love for him differ in the slightest and as much as he listens and cherishes every syllable that leaves your lips, those words don’t affect him in the slightest. He bombards your parents with flowers, foods and any gift he could possibly think of. As much as it harms his soul, he tries to ignore their stares of hatred and whispers of gossip. It hurts, but that won’t stop him. Namjoon will do anything to prove to them that he is a good man and is completely worthy of spending the rest of time with their child. Anything.

“I know they don’t matter to you, but, how can they think of me like that? That I’m just some idiotic hellion that only sees you as some sort of toy!? I see you as my entire world, Y/N, and I need them to see that, too… I don’t want anyone to ever think you mean nothing to me…”

PARK JIMIN

━━━ Lover’s Spit is playing, mixed in with the white noise of passing automobiles and tires against the road. It’s a cloudy day when you and Jimin finally pack up and return home from your parent”s house, and Jimin was more than ready to be safe and alone with you. He feels envy; envy for the unforeseen heaven you’ve found in this place rather than finding it within him. You loved being back at home, he can see it in your eyes. It’s like the most beautiful explosion of diamonds and pearls across the nebulous, velvet-touched sky. And as he stares out of the window, groggily watching the trees and cars pass by and music echoing in his head, he feels resent.

“Everything ok, love?” The heavy bass seems to dim down and all he can hear is your voice and feel your sweet attention finally on him. Like an angel’s kiss on a fresh, moggy spring morning, he can finally feel your affections intended solely for him. But when Jimin finally forwards his stare from out of the window to your pretty face, you see a look so heart-shattering that even the clouds start to disintegrate.

Such a devastating look he gives you. Lips trembling, tears clinging onto his lashes like broken shards of diamonds. His features look as if they were chiseled in marble and placed somewhere in Rome. So pure, so beautiful, so melancholically dreamlike. There’s sorrow buried deep in his heart and you’re aching to find out what caused this.

“Y/N… I-I know you love them, but, please… Please don’t leave me… I couldn’t survive without you. Just… Just tell me you love me. It’s all I need to hear right now…”

KIM TAEHYUNG

━━━ Taehyung gulps the glass in front of him like it’s holy water and he’s desperate to be purified of his sins. Their stares linger far too long and he can’t help but wonder, do they know about his vicious infatuation? Do they see him when he lurks outside your window to simply admire the art before him? He now holds shame in his heart, and it burns. At first, your parents were ambivalent about him. But now, it was clear of their feelings for him. They despised him. He followed stars and planets to try and shift and shape their opinions about them, but nothing worked. Through courage, kindness, loyalty, truth, and gratitude, he was left with bitter, eternal disgrace. 

There’s a sudden grip on his wrist. Tight, but comforting in this matter. Oh, there you are.

Taehyung suddenly feels delicate, soft, cherubic, in a way. Spring days and the kisses of the moon resting in the crevice of his heart. Dahlias, lilies, tulips, and marigolds begin to fill and flutter within his chest, a sudden warmth nuzzling through his body like the sunbeams embracing his skin on a July afternoon. Taehyung can finally feel so loved and safe with your touch on him. Even though this silence belittles and mocks him, there are worlds forming in his heart. And for now, the light of your love is all he needs.

“Y/N, you are such a gift… A gift that won’t stop giving. Please… Never stop loving me. I don’t know how I’d live without your love…”

JEON JUNGKOOK

━━━ Jungkook can see his reflection in the glimmer of the plate in front of him and has an utter hatred for what he sees. Too possessive, too soft, too emotional, too jealous, too sensitive. His hands start to shiver, his knees ache and his lip quivers. Were all those harsh words true? Could it be possible you felt the same way as well!? This voice inside his head is chanting “calm down!” like it’s some sort of magic spell and he’s trying to summon the dead. But, his plans fail and Jungkook can’t seem to bring a halt to these worries. He begins to hyperventilate as he sinks into himself. “How could you love someone like him?”, they ask. But, really, how could you?

He is nothing but some socially anxious kid who is trying with every weak bone in his body to prove his devotion to the human he loves with the worth of the entire galaxy. You’re a god, and he’s nothing but some filthy hellion that is desperate for your affections. You were born made of shattered stars with a big chunk of the moon that rests in your heart, he was given nothing but thin skin and a glass soul. You are the moon, a light in the darkness that shares its own wrath of eternal peace and beauty. Jungkook is the sun, so overwhelming and so utterly there, and god, does he hate it. But before this epiphany eats him whole, you drag him from the dining room and into your childhood bedroom to try and soothe him of his sorrows.

You shush him when he starts to cry, holding his head with your palms like you have an entire planet in your hands. You wipe his tears and whisper words of reassurance, telling him that he is completely perfect just as he is and how he shouldn’t let their blasphemous words dominate him. And although his insecurities crafted by your parents have now taken a toll on him, your touch and your love heals him, so now he can inhale the scent of summer and exhale the dust of your affections.

“Thank you… Thank you, thank you, thank you… I-I-I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but, fuck… I’m so goddamn thankful to be yours…”