#like genuinely karen is a saint

[pigeonxp]

i feel like this may be an unpopular opinion but i HATE the hen doctor storyline like ALL THAT TIME SPENT on that storyline and she doesnt even end up as a doctor like 😐

[gicosmo]

ABIGAIL HATE IS SO FORCED IN THE RDR2 COMMUNITY‼️

All this Abigail hate is insane. This woman is getting hate for being a mother and wanting a normal life💀

Like let’s be so fr. If you were in Abigail’s position you would probably leave John too. This poor woman was abandoned by John for a year. John refused to be a proper father for Jack(also, Abigail isn’t “nagging” for asking John to be a parent.). Jack gets KIDNAPPED(This isn’t John’s fault. This is still very traumatic.). And then her breaking point was a day where John and Jack were supposed to have a nice bonding moment, but that ended up being a terrifying experience for him. JACK COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT OR WORSE, KILLED. At that point, Abigail feared for Jack’s life. Poor kid had already been through too much. Any sane parent would leave if they saw a reoccurring pattern of their child being in constant danger.

Also the whole made up lie that fans came up about Abigail cheating is insane??? Her suddenly working a normal cleaning job is cheating?💀Abigail haters are so quick to accuse her of cheating yet ignore John’s interaction with Karen at camp🤠

John is NOT a saint😭Abigail haters try to paint him as the victim of the relationship but he’s genuinely awful to Abigail in the game. HE LITERALLY ACKNOWLEDGES IT IN THE MAIN STORY WHILE TALKING WITH ARTHUR. But he has his redemption, which is the whole point of the game.

John and Abigail are both great characters‼️It’s weird how people love and do deep dives into complex male characters, but complex female characters are often overlooked/hated on.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

118+ Got That Dog In 'Em

I.E: Which dog breeds I associate with 911 characters & why.

Bobby: Redbone Coonhound

- When I think of a coonhound I always think of Duke, who was a redbone that my grandparents had when I was little. Duke was always right on mine & my sister's heels, watching for any sign of threat but still letting us play around. He was observant, smart, & loyal. Bobby is always keeping an eye on his team & right on their heels when they need him. He's always struck me as the most observant character & he's the wise father figure.

Athena: German Shepherd

- No it's not just because GSDs are commonly police dogs. We have a GSD, Boxer, Husky mix named Ethel. I can always tell when her GSD side is showing versus her Boxer or Husky because she goes into protective mode. Athena is fiercely protective of her family, both blood & found. She's quick to stand up for them & have their backs. I also feel like Athena has a little mischief in her & maybe it's just the Boxer or Husky bleeding through but so does Ethel.

Hen: Siberian Husky

- As we all know, Huskies are VERY vocal. Hen strikes me as the type to always speak her mind no matter what. From what I know about Huskies from social media & Ethel, they're very loyal, insanely smart, & kinda silly. I saw a text post one time with Hen & Karen as the background that said something like, "I love being in STEM (shenanigans, tomfoolery, escapades, & mischief)." Hen is definitely a silly goose when she wants to be but she's also very smart & loyal to a fault.

Karen: Rottweiler

- Rotties can be silly little gooses but they're also very loving & protective. Karen takes care of her people & protects them when it's needed. However, she also enjoys a little STEM (see Hen's above) every now & then.

Chimney: Boxer

- To me, Boxers have always struck me as a protective & loyal dog disguised as a clumsy goofball. I think Boxers are smart & they do silly shit to make us smile & I think Chim is the same way. I don't know why but Chimney just screams clutz to me & I've seen some Boxers do some clutz ass shit.

Maddie: Shiba Inu

- Okay, Shibas are regarded as independent, affection, & intelligent dogs. They're also known to be stubborn. Maddie can be an independent woman who don't need no man but she knows she doesn't have to be because she has Chimney. She showers everyone she cares about with affection & she's hella smart. I feel like stubborn just runs in the Buckley genes though because she & Buck both have their moments.

Buck: Golden Retriever

- I feel like it's just general consensus at this point that Buck is a golden retriever at heart. He's got lots of energy, a heart of gold, & a tendency to get himself into weird &/or sticky situations. I've seen some goldens get stuck in some weird shit. Buck is always giving his all & doing what he thinks is right. We all know he's a yapper but there's no way in hell he's gonna sit still either.

Tommy: Saint Bernard

- My first thought was, "Oh yeah Tommy is definitely like a Doberman or something," but then I thought about how soft he is with Buck & how I guarantee this man could get into some STEM of his own. I was thinking about bigger dogs that are fluffy & silly & I remembered the Beethoven movies. It's been a LONG time since I've seen them but I do remember that dog getting into some crazy shit & being loyal to his humans. So yeah, Tommy is a St Bernard. They're both hard working, a little silly, & super loyal.

Eddie: Pitbull

- Okay, hear me out. Eddie might look all rough & tough on the outside but that man is just a giant teddy bear. Enter the Pitbull. When I think of badass looking dogs, I always think of a Pittie but they're also very sweet & loving dogs when raised right. They can make great guard dogs but also fantastic cuddle buddies. I genuinely believe it takes the right kind of person to raise a Pitbull, just like it takes the right kind of people *cough* the 118 *cough* to understand & support Eddie.

Chris: Beagle

- Beagles are commonly owned as hunting dogs because of their intelligence, skill, & energy. Chris is hella smart & observant. I swear that kid keeps track of shit that no one else does. He's got lots of energy & loves to have fun. I once knew a pair of beagles that were always attached at the hip & playful as ever. There was another beagle that was a truck dog & she was sweet as could be & always ready for an adventure.

[verdemoun]

this might be weird but how did it to when they had to cross a road for the first time??

YES VERY GENUINELY ONE OF THE ACTUAL FICS I HAVE PLOTTED

Just adorable. Lenny can't look when Sean crosses the road because the only thing between Sean and getting hit jaywalking because he never looks is the luck of the Irish.

Hosea will dial up the frail old man look so people feel bad rushing him to cross the street.

Arthur is a good boy and will always wait for the crossing light but also spam clicks the buttons because he is convinced it changes faster. John, Jack, Karen, Micah and Bill all share this belief.

First time using a crossing for all of them was a heart attack going from standing on the corner to flashing green walk with frantic beeping and a sudden swarm of people moving activates firefight brain they either sprint across the road or are so thrown off they forget crossing and have to wait. Bessie is very strict on teaching them to use crossings because they do not have the depth perception or understanding of how fast a car is actually moving when they try to cross otherwise. Arthur still has his riding a horse too fast through Saint Denis skills and will cause a 3 car fender bender accident trying to cross the road otherwise.

Kieran needs someone to hold his hand. Bessie did it one time just instinctively mom mode and it became a thing. Does not matter who or how short a distance crossing an empty one lane alley and he still needs someone to hold his hand crossing the road.

Kieran and the accidental rizz of telling someone they need to hold hands esp with new timewarps. Javier was not prepared he's both blushing and having an existential crisis of 'oh no do I think the O'Driscoll is hot??'. He does they're in love.

The one time it was just Kieran and Micah like bumping into each other Kieran heard the crossing go, did not move, watched Micah cross and then asked a stranger to hold his hand instead. The terror of unfamiliar people is still less than the idea of having to engage with Micah Bell. Micah was offended.

[kiss2012]

i have too many 911 lb thoughts and i was trying to keep it in my notes but it’s too long already

i saw basically all of the shooting in gifs but somehow that did not prepare me for it at all. also the one part i didn’t see in gifs is buck rolling under the fire truck to pull eddie out and i am so glad i watched that for the first time without having seen it before. 

are you hurt being the first and only thing eddie says when he’s the one bleeding out is insane.

one of the hottest eddie moments by far has been when he’s telling buck about the will wearing a slutty v-neck with his saint christopher medal on full display. i genuinely can’t stop thinking about it.

MAY GRANT MY FOREVER GIRL. love her and harry’s relationship. i actually get so emotional thinking about them from season 1 to them now 

buck is so annoying sometimes and i love him so bad despite and actually especially because of it 

speaking of which every day im dreaming of buck’s s4 hair. buck’s s4 hair pls come back to me i miss you.

ravi most beautiful perfect man ever. i need him to be a main immediately

brawl in cell block 9-1-1 is fucking INSANE. both buck and eddie make the exact same face when the other is being searched it’s a millisecond of a look but it says SO MUCH about how they feel about the other being stripped of weapons. and then when christopher is brought up eddie is so afraid he shuts down completely while buck gets immediately impulsively angry about the possibility that christopher could be hurt. jesus christ. 

CAN THEY PLEASE BRING UP THE WILL. hey eddie remember how you said your son goes to buck if you die. um did you ever think about how buck is just as likely as you if not more likely to die on the job. and did you decide no i don’t care about the risks it has to be him anyway. but now u are in a situation where you might both die. SO MAYBE WE COULD DISCUSS THAT NOW. 

omg the paramedic from chimney begins is back

karen and eva confrontation is delicious tbh 

they seriously need to start reconciling the random procedural case parts of the show with the other main characters so that i can bring myself to care about any of it, or just stop giving that so much screen time. i vastly prefer when we get storylines about humanity and connection

everything in its right place playing…

IM SO EMOTIONAL ABOUT THE MONTAGE OF EVERYONE HELPING MICHAEL PROPOSE TO DAVID

NOOOOOO MICHAEL AND DAVID ARE LEAVING AND THEY’RE NOT COMING BACK IM SO SAD at least they gave them a good send-off but :((((((

omg this lesbian who can’t drive and her love interest driving instructor. new favourite call <3 

YELL AT EVERYONE’S REACTIONS TO BOBBY AND ATHENA’S ROLEPLAY I LOVE THEM 

who is the driver of the fire truck. do we ever learn who this person is??? imagine having to sit there awkwardly just listening to everyone talking about their personal problems?

[kdbleu]

Thoughts about Shameless.

In no particular order or coherence…

First, Shameless went on too long. Once upon a time 134 episodes of a drama would have been would a successful show no question, but no one expected character development or cohesion. And nobody watched all 134 episodes in order in less than six months.

Second, I am a character driven writer and viewer/reader so there were somethings about the basic set up, the fact that for the characters to remain shameless, they needed to be kept down. That was hard for me. It meant plot/narrative had to intervene and knock everybody down a peg or seven. This was especially hard because in the end Lip was the lens I watched the show through so he will be the lens my commentary is filter through too.

And yes, I watched Shameless because I had just finished The Bear, but Lip would have been my boy regardless. I have a thing for broken character who are too smart for their own good. Lip was all that and more.

Lip was also an unintentional conundrum for the show.  He was an inadvertently three-dimensional character in a 2-1/2 dimensional world. Part of that, and the thing I wish had been more explicitly explored throughout, was that he was the chaotic good version of Frank. Lip was no saint, but he was the moral center. Not because he meant to be. Because he was Frank’s mirror. And he hated Frank. He hated Frank because they were so similar, and Lip desperately didn’t want to be like Frank.

Lip’s partners ranked:

#1 Mandy – I liked her best as a character independent of Lip for one. She understood not only that he was brilliant but that his brilliance was an obstacle between them. I also think Lip genuinely cared for her, but he didn’t have any idea what to do with that.

#2 Sierra – I liked her second best as a character. I’m not even sure why beyond I felt like there was real potential there and potential will always get me.

#3 Helene – I get this is because Helene was not a viable relationship, but even though I don’t think he was ever much more than a toy to her, Helene wanted good for Lip in a way that I don’t think any other person in his life did, regardless of relationship. Except possibly Ian. She also showed one of the things all the Gallagher kids had in common with their relationship which was a desire for connection that outweighed good judgement.

#4 Tami – I didn’t hate Tami. I just didn’t know why Lip liked her. She was mean and he slept with her sister. It bothered me that they never showed her knowing Lip was smart. It was important and interesting to me, but it wasn’t the Lip the writers were writing at the time, so they just skipped it. I would have done something similar but different with this endgame love interest character, kind combining Tami and Mandy into a South Side girl who also went to college, came back and saw the potential in Lip that he didn’t’ see in himself.

#4 Amanda – My issue with Tami is that Amanda was pretty much the same character only earlier and without the pressure of being a viable relationship. She was mean and weird and served little purpose other than to get Lip’s life in order and rat out him and Helene. Amanada was a plot device to soften college and not a character. Tami gets the edge over Amanda in this tie because she did in the end care about Lip. But if Emmy Rossum hadn’t left the show, Tami would have died in childbirth.

#6 Eddie – Eddie wasn’t a relationship just an excuse to get JAW naked.

#7 Karen – I didn’t like what the show did with her, but she was really awful, so I also didn’t care.

I do wish anyone involved in writing the show had been to college in the last, I don’t know, ever. The narrative was never going to allow Lip to graduate, be successful, and on the show, but…what the ever-living fuck? There is no way in hell a modern university would allow a male student to live in a sorority house. I can suspend a lot of disbelief, but even in a show that stretch reality that was beyond the beyond. And Lip still could have been kicked out of school and ended up in rehab.

I also had a hard time with the idea that any university that allowed a male student to live in a sorority house would then let a random girl decide anyone’s fate. It’s a nice idea but Lip getting kicked out of school was about getting him to rock bottom and having education be a failure for him. Helene could have been enough for that if it had been written right, if Youens had let him down too. It was just so plot forward and sloppy for me. Maybe that’s just me.

But also like Shameless could have ended after season 7 or 8. The whole show gets sloppy after that with tropes repeating. Carl wants to go to West Point, lives with a fucking genius and yet never goes to Lip for help. It’s worse after season 9 when Debbie who I actually liked even at her most insane suddenly has to also be Fiona keeping everyone in the same house past the point of logic. When they started adjusting Tami to be more like a Gallagher in Fiona’s absence.

And why was Lip trying to adopt some random girl when he could have just paid attention to Liam? He does in the end, but Lip and Liam would have been a logical thread through the last seasons. Of course it would have meant acknowledging Lip was a genius and got expelled from college, but also that he kept Liam in his dorm room. It was like the writers had no idea the viewers might be paying attention from episode to episode.

They didn’t seem to have much direction for Lip after college and sobriety. It played like sobriety meant boring, which as a foil to Frank worked, but I loved that Lip was a fucking genius. That he was incredibly clever and fun and kind of vengeful.

After his college experience I get why rebuilding a bike would be appealing. And I don’t for a second think Lip ever had the luxury of calculated ambition. He did what was in front of him. He lived in survival mode and was clever enough to make it work. And I did like that. But it would have been more satisfying personally to see that shift play out instead of it just happening because the writers needed him to be blue collar. And there could have been plenty of opportunities for him to take advantage of the gentrifiers, or bit-coin. That whole scrappy ingenious grifter part of Lip just disappeared. I missed it.

Other weird thoughts… Lip and Ian were my favorite sibling relationship. I loved the friction between Lip and Fiona, especially when she wants him to go to college and he doesn’t because he sees it as just a way for her to get him to support the family. I would have done more with that too.

Carl has the most interesting and oddly believable character growth arc.

I loved Debbie. I wish more time had been spent with her fears of being abandoned and her desire to keep the family chaos going. I have no idea what the writers were thinking with Sandy or Heidi. And why both of them? Debbie had enough crazy on her own. She didn’t need extra.

Frank’s end was way more moving that I would have expected, possibly because of covid, but Monica’s death got me too.

Liam was the saving grace of the last like four seasons. Especially, his relationship to Frank.

I loved Mickey throughout and the idea of Mickey and Ian. I never really shipped them, but they were always hijinks.

I did not missed Fiona when she left, which I felt bad about. I wish they had dealt with her addictions, especially to sex, the way they did Lip’s alcoholism and Ian’s bipolar disorder.

I’m really going to deal with by writing about screwed up geniuses who blow things up because of course I am. 😉

[hxdrostorms]

@legendreign has sent: 1. OTP(s) for your muse? ( For muses, all three Gold Saints! ) 2. NOTP(s) for your muse? 4. Are you oc shipping friendly? 12.Do you believe rp’ing a ship adds to character development?

Mun Related Shipping Questions! [Accepting]

1. OTP(s) for your muse?

// Funnily enough, I only have one answer for this one, bc I haven't figured that out for 2/3 boys I have here.

I've seen some really lovely fanart of Shaka/Mu, and I think I might enjoy it in a fanart/fanfiction way. Because I don't think I'll be RPing it, with the way I've set up Shaka (this isn't something I want to do with Shaka RN. That's why I've set him up as a singleship muse, nothing is ever set in stone so who knows if I'll ever change that about him.).

Aldebaran is practically a blank slate: sticks leggy out, who's going to give me a ship for him? I'm literally all ears, when it comes to ships for him.

And then we have Deathmask, and I've dug myself into the Aphrodite/DM ship hole, and I'm not leaving. NGL, I'm looking forward to write this ship. Fingers crossed for me to find an Aphrodite RPer, who'd be down to write it with me.

2. NOTP(s) for your muse?

// I've got nothing TBH? I also haven't touched with a 10 ft post any form of discourse in this fandom. Spoiler alert: I don't want to see or engage with it. So, I have no clue what would be considered a "bad" ship for my muses, that would get me crucified.

I'd imagine that anything involving the golden saints with the bronze ones, due to the ages. And I think it's a good time as ever to say that: in order for me to do anything like that in a RPing format, the characters will have to be aged up first (likely in the context of a post-series events type of situation/plot). Everything must be discussed and agreed upon, between me and the other mun. No ifs and buts, I won't do anything romantic between them, during the series' events for my own comfort.

I don't want to start any form of a shitshow of a discourse. Because, I'm way too tired of this nonsensical discussion, that never ends.

4. Are you oc shipping friendly?

// OFC I am! I'm just a bit more selective for OC/CC ships. But honestly? If the chemistry is there, and we have a solid plot going for them? They can offer me an experience that even surpasses CC/CC ships! I've had some truly awesome OC/CC ships in the past, which I still cherish to this day.

12. Do you believe rp’ing a ship adds to character development?

// Okay SO as sb who personally takes huge enjoyment out of character development, AND has had a long history of dealing with some snobbish Rpers in the past, I'll go straight to the point:

It all depends on what your end goal with it is.

Do you want to only focus in the fluff/smut/etc aspects of it? That's awesome! All the power to you.

Do you want to take this as an opportunity to expand on things through a relationship? That's equally awesome as well! All the power to you.

I'm just genuinely sick and tired of Tumblr RPC's competitive nonsense, where they think that they have to pitch one against another and try to shame RPers who have a different approach/interest to RP. No Karen, we aren't doing a full on essay through rp on tumblr dot com. You're not handing your shit ship to be analyzed, in a professional way.

All ships have the potential to serve as food for character development, but that has to come from the muns' wishes to do that to begin with. Otherwise, you're just forcing an elitist and snobbish way to RP, that's just unhealthy and nobody wins in the end. I personally take a lot of enjoyment of grabbing my main ship partners, and truly get DEEP into things on our discussions and worldbuilding.

And at the same time, I've had some good times with folks, who only wanted to do a simpler/easier to digest stuff and not think too much about the HCs/implications/etc. Does that suddenly make me into a lesser RPer? I highly doubt it.

[seasquared]

Not on bread alone, or at all

The Menu (2022).

The second time I watched "The Menu" (2022), I made myself dinner first. A salad from a premixed prewashed box, dressed with apple cider vinegarette bought in a bottle, red onions soaked in ice water to limit their bite, and candied pecans, slightly stale and leftover from months prior. A camembert that I didn't like and that I had baked, studiously glazing it with honey and olive oil and studded with sliced garlic, only to realize that I still didn't like it. I threw it away and ate store-bought hummus instead, with generic grocery brand pita crackers. I did not buy any bread—on purpose. What a meal!

Perhaps I thought if I could collect enough bad food things around me, I would be protected, a kekkai of poor culinary choices, when I finally re-entered the world of "The Menu." I would be the final girl, twirling a sprig of wilted frisee lettuce, a crumbled piece of pita cracker warding off Julian Slowick, like a vampire hunter with her tools. Or, even more pathetically, he would see me drinking a glass of vinho verde priced at under $10 a bottle and know I was unfit to die with him. I could not be afforded the glory.  He would leave me in the chicken coop without dessert. They'd find me in the smokehouse, "in the Nordic tradition," trussed and waiting to be let down.

But of course, fine dining is never about the food. Never quite. It is, as one of rich tech bros in the movie says also facetiously, also ironically, but wholly correctly, "buying the experience." I am not immune to propaganda—or the lure of "The Menu." I am, and have always been, a devotee.

(cw: discussions of mass suicide/murder in the context of Jonestown)

Last year I had declared rather facetiously that I was done with my tasting menu era. It was the conversational equivalent of an ironic tweet, because while I never had a tasting menu era, I knew I was the kind of person who should have. I had spent a good deal of my adult life in Chicago and never made it to Alinea even once, despite having multiple friends who have gone multiple times. I had gone to one or two omakases, but never anything notable, and came away from each a little embarrassed, as if my husband and I had been caught publicly roleplaying. I was in a book club with a woman who humblebragged about a 24-hour weekday trip to the French Laundry, and I've never quite figured out if I was jealous, thought it was gauche, or both.

If I knew about fine dining, it was as literature, or perhaps as myth. I committed certain passages from articles written about Guidara and Humm to memory, as if they were The Silmarillion and Eleven (elven?) Madison Park some fictional area of Middle Earth. I followed John and Karen Urie Shields' work at Town House ravenously, but through pictures on their blog. (Later I did have the tasting menu at Smythe, their restaurant in Chicago, and loved it—perhaps my only genuine tasting menu experience.) And oh, the Netflix shows! I once bored a dinner table to tears talking about an episode of "Chef's Table: Pizza." There's a scene where Bonci butchers a cow while talking about the excesses of his appetite and it represents him butchering himself, because we are now bored with static images of a person looking into a camera talking about food. "I don't think I've ever paid that much attention to my food, or to what I was watching on Netflix," one of my fellow diners said, very slowly, as if worried I was a rabid dog that may attack her for her confession. Slowick wouldn't lift a finger to butcher me, he'd be so revolted. He'd let me rot untouched for more than 152 days, until I was no longer fit for consumption.

The perversity of modern life is that we know so much more than our counterpart selves would have 200, 300 years ago. But that knowledge remains mostly second, third hand. I know about fine dining the same way I know about saints: idolatry of iconography, signals I used for personal mythmaking and to detangle the mythmaking of others. But that also makes me part of the intended audience for "The Menu." Tyler impresses Margot for the first, and only, time in the movie with a monologue that reveals, among other things, that he has watched Slowick's episode of "Chef's Table" at least 20 times, and the movie rewards the viewer who recognizes how much the first 15 minutes are a parody of the tastefully dramatic and breathlessly orchestrated "Chef's Table" style, from the text overlays to the swelling classical music to a plate of food filmed slowly rotating against a black nothing background.

Because despite its cutting asides and its more-than-glancing resonance with "Eyes Wide Shut," "The Menu" is not really a movie about skewering the rich. It is a movie about fanaticism, cults (religious and personality), and the end of something powerful and destructive and, yes, even beautiful, that cannot exist in this world in this form anymore without poisoning everything it touches. It is a movie at least in part for us Tylers, who are looking for others to transform the ordinary into art, the elements of the everyday world into the divine.

Ralph Fiennes' Slowick is not a monster. He is not even the man in the kitchen we have come to expect in real life (widespread in Copenhangen beyond just Noma), reality TV (Gordon Ramsey), or fiction (Joel McHale's cameo as a nightmarish head chef in "The Bear", or even Carmy himself). He does not yell at his staff. He does not get knifed by a stagiaire in the buttocks, though he does allow a female sous chef he sexually and then just normally harassed to stab him in the thigh. When he calls Margot to his (tiny, austere, "shitty" per the script) office, his eyes are so doleful, the set of his mouth so mournful. He walks her through her cover story like a therapist—or maybe, more accurately, like a priest listening to a confession.

But Ralph Fiennes' Slowick is monstrous because of those things. He appears capable of such love, such tenderness, and yet only when he is about to teeter from that edge into violence. When Jeremy is about to bring The Mess to a close, Slowick kisses Jeremy on both cheeks like a benediction, a heavenly father forgiving whatever sins of inferiority Jeremy may still carry in his flesh, before his body is wrapped up like a human smudge stick, bundled inside a white sheet with sprigs of eucalyptus leaves, lavender, and grasses. The Mess is the first time the menu—and "The Menu"—truly goes off the rails, and is when you realize that this is not the culinary version of The Count of Monte Cristo or even "Glass Onion". Killing Jeremy, or letting Jeremy die, serves no larger purpose. Slowick is not there to expose his guests with razor sharp accuracy, to cut them down to size, or even to enact simple vengeance. He has, very simply, gone mad.

There are times in the movie when Slowick appears close to divine revelation, and I think that is why so many reviewers seem to believe this movie is some commentary on capitalism or consumerism or wealth, and are disappointed to realize at the end that there is none. But that is the thing about madness: there are times when it can seem quite cogent, and it often starts with a kernel of truth. You can't initiate someone into a cult with insanity. You have to start with one true thing. So Slowick is right to put the toadies of his angel investor in their places, yet what he screams at Doug Verrick is that there are no substitutions at Hawthorne. So he dooms a woman to her death simply because she had no student loans. You can't initiate someone into a cult with insanity. You have to start with one true thing, and get there in the end.

How could this happen? "Why didn't you try to escape?" Simple: the guests are not supposed to. It would be, as Hannibal may say, rude. It is not proper. It is not part of the ritual. The ending of "The Menu" is about complicity, but not just in the sense of "I deserve to die." The guests are complicit in their participation -- in eating, in savoring, in relishing, as Chef orders them to do. They listen to him. They do not try to attack the staff or run away, because running away is not part of the ritual, any more than sitting at someone else's table, sending food back, not agreeing with the sommelier's descriptions of the wine pairings, or refusing to pay for your bill—with or without a side of murder—is part of the ritual. The guests are here not for the food. "Otherwise it just tastes good, and who cares?" You do not pay Rolex money to eat good food; you pay Rolex money to be gastronomically dommed by the world's best chef.

It's fun on Twitter to discuss Margot's escape as a sly joke, like she exploited a loophole we should have seen coming. But Margot is able to leave because she realizes the only way out of the death cult is to deprogram and reject its rules entirely. She doesn't need to be the high priestess, as perhaps Elsa could lay claim to. She simply needs to be a disbeliever. When Slowick calls Margot to the front of the house and asks her, "Are you one of us or one of them?", he is quick to clarify that it does not mean will she survive or die. He assumes her initiation, that she will become one of the bigger Us, his death cult. He is asking her to pick her place within the order, whether she will be wearing the white robes of the priests or stand naked like the congregation. But in the end, Margo denies him. Without faith in Chef God, he has no power over her.

Perhaps if I had eaten at more tasting menus, or gone to a church when I was younger instead of learning about Catholicism in art museums, or hadn't been trying to air out an apartment kitchen with no windows after baking a camembert that smelled of rancid fat and chemical spills, I could have normal thoughts about "The Menu." But instead, what came to mind was the Jonestown massacre, where one man's folly resulted in the deaths (I consider them murders) of over 900 people.

There were over 900 audiotapes recovered from Jonestown following the massacre. The most famous of these tapes is, of course, the "death tape," a nearly hour-long recording of the events that directly preceded their deaths. In these final moments, Jim Jones sounds, disconcertingly, not unlike Julian Slowick (or perhaps it is more accurate to say that Slowick in the movie is disconcertingly Jones-like). He is apologetic, full of tender grief, as he calls for his congregation to submit to his vision of "revolutionary suicide." "I’ve practically died every day to give you peace," he tells them. "And you still not have any peace." Towards the end, as he worries that the cajoling and praises of the other church members is causing the process to drag on for too long, he resorts to grandiosity and exhaustion. "We’ve lived as no other people have lived and loved. We’ve had as much of this world as you’re gonna get. Let’s just be done with it. Let’s be done with the agony of it."

You can almost hear this in Ralph Fiennes' calm voice. The same voice he uses as he grabs an ember with his bare hands. We must be cleansed. Made clean. Like martyrs. Or heretics. We can be subsumed and made anew.

Among those who died at Jonestown were children and elderly family members who were fed or injected poison. In other words, they did not go willingly. Even those that did had lived through a blitzkrieg of manipulation and psychological warfare from Jim Jones, who could for example pretend to give his congregation tiny cups of poison as loyalty tests to see if they would kill themselves if called upon to do so. It's possible many of those who were killed on November 18, 1978, thought they were not actually going to die. (In light of this, there has been a concerted effort by relatives of those who died at Jonestown to eradicate the phrase "drinking the Kool-Aid" as an expression of someone falling without reservation for a crazy idea. Since falling down the Jonestown rabbit hole many years ago, I've tried to stop saying it as well.)

In its place, I propose: "becoming the human s'more." Because Hawthrone's final guests did know they were going to die, and welcomed it. The final edit of the movie makes it obvious. In the script, Anne, the wife in the couple that has dined at Hawthorne eleven times, pleads with Slowick during the final course. "Please," she says, but the script cannot decide if she is asking for him to stop or to continue.

The movie itself offers no ambiguity. Anne tells him, tearily, "Thank you." And when Slowick shouts for the final time, "I love you all!" perhaps you thought he was speaking only to his staff, who respond with equal gusto, "We love you, Chef!" Perhaps you thought that for the whole movie. But in that final scene, in my rewatch, I finally noticed: Soren and Felicity shout it right back.

Addendum:

Days after I watched "The Menu" for the first time, Noma announced that it would be closing its doors to diners in 2024. I had a very fun discussion with a friend (@genufa) about the themes that echo in both Noma's closing and "The Menu." Chef Slowick proclaims that the food at Hawthorn is "the best food in the world." But it is impossible to ever determine what is the "best food" in the world, what it should taste like, who should taste it. And more importantly, it is impossible to make the best restaurant in the world and share it with everyone, night after night. The human cost of such an experiment, as Slowick and Redzepi discovers, is too much.

But it is possible to make the best burger in the world, and maybe even to share the best burger in the world with everyone. (That's why I think this Twitter thread on how fine dining is presented in "The Menu" is absolutely correct, only they present it as a critique of the movie when I think it's the whole bottom line. The point of "The Menu" is that a chef's passion is real, and trying to turn that into ROI is grueling and, possibly, never sustainable or even moral.)

Anyway, I couldn't stop thinking of a quote Kim Mikkola, who worked at Noma for four years, gave to the New York Times about Noma's closing. Fine dining, he said, "like diamonds, ballet and other elite pursuits, often has abuse built into it. Everything luxetarian is built on somebody’s back; somebody has to pay."

Do you know what Mikkola is doing now? Apparently, "a chain of sustainable, equitably run fried-chicken sandwich shops." The cheeseburger, in 2023.

Further Reading:

"The Menu Gets That Fine Dining is a Cult," by Chris Crowley and Adam Platt in Vulture

"The Menu is an Apology from the Old to the Young for the Mess We've Made of the World," by Maria Bustillos in Popula

[collymore]

Isn't it the real duty of a saint to forgive sins, or in St. Catherine's case imaginary ones?

By Stanley Collymore

I truly don't imagine for a solitary moment that Harry is even the slightest bit interested much less so the least bit worried about what the fuck Kate Middleton actually thinks about or really has to say in respect of himself, his wife Meghan; their clearly happy marriage, which is exceedingly much more than can honestly simply be said for Kate and William's clearly pretend undoubted blissful marriage whose vile narrative is basically only rather conveniently swallowed hook line and sinker by those rabid racist Karens and Gammons who actually do so because they truly think, that by being simply publicly supportive of William and Kate, they're literally offending Meghan and Harry when even they must truly know William has his mistress; and he and Kate, really distanced, from their official public pretence as this happy pair do lead separate lives exactly like Charles and Camilla do, and aptly evidently, as Liz and Philip did for over 33 years, before the both of them respectively literally kicked the bucket with Philip dying truly aptly in his live-in mistress arms.

Yet these quite brainwashed and sycophantic assholes across the Anglophile world and Ireland, much too bloody thick to really think for themselves clearly believe all the appallingly nauseous shit, that the self-serving Windsors literally through their distinctly expensive, PR regimes privileged and odious social climbing mouthpieces naturally with promises of what are utterly useless but rather to these clowns precious and simply expected gongs and likewise too the Palace bribed British media, who tell these pathetic morons what to think. In marked contrast to all these toxic pillocks Harry very obviously having from birth been an integral element of the Windsor family, firmly knows, that Stepford wife brood mare Kate Middleton having rather discernibly done her duty of producing the heir and spares is really redundant now in a perceptibly, loveless marriage; while William is just as adulterous, as all other, contemporary Princes of Wales and embodies his father!.

In this very specific role of mine as a qualified journalist and a writer I'm frankly not the least bit that interested in the Windsor family per se, but as I discernibly quite conscionably do routinely report on what I evidently see about and undeniably around me I similarly obviously and significantly do categorically and intelligently too crucially and quite realistically know about a diversity of issues, and had Kate Middleton, not been the Karen bitch that she noxiously, irrefutably is and not vitriolically displayed her jealousy and racist venom against Meghan, I've no doubt whatsoever, that Harry would undoubtedly, still have crucially left this distinctively conspicuous and clearly infernally dysfunctional family, that  he was born into and had long wanted to. However, very significantly and in crucial contrast to his actual one that permanent exit would rather likely, have been a simpler affair!

Had not the pitiful quartet of Charles, Camilla, William and similarly Kate principally but obviously stupidly too, in rather rapt collusion undoubtedly with others of their same ilk, effectively saw fit to intentionally but rather daftly direct at Harry, because he was happy unlike themselves and genuinely also totally, reciprocally in love with a very highly intelligent and as well a rather undeniably and similarly, thoroughly mentally liberated woman who very essentially, is an African American. Fully regarded however by this vile and obviously, two-faced Windsor quartet of Charles, Camilla, along with William, Kate, and their clear like-minded chums as the Nigger tarnishing the House of Windsor. A presence, that to these literally self-entitled pillocks, that wasn't on - so Meghan, had to be gone; but, with Harry not caving in, he and also his legitimate children became the ongoing targets of these taxpayer funded, warped cunts, their evidently complicit media and fervent sycophants.

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 26 October 2023.

Author's Remarks: Quite seriously who the hell does Kate Middleton think that she is, and even more importantly than that question seriously or more likely distinctly narcissistically and delusionally to boot seriously expects or even toxically demands that actually quite highly and exceedingly intelligent individuals, who can actually think for themselves and invariably do this all the time, really see her other than for what she abundantly obviously, most self-evidently, very patently isn’t, and quite significantly can never ever be!

Personally, and undeniably, everyone that I know, closely work with and distinctively rather obviously do respect their opinions, exactly like myself see Kate Middleton as an exceedingly shallow, rather feckless; a distinctly vile, fatuous, blatantly workshy, discernibly obsessively social climbing, and a profoundly most unquestionably and a thoroughly blatantly avariciously gold digger bitch. And let's be absolutely frank and honest in how most of her fellow white Britons, who now praise her to the roof tops, because they’ve effectively been told they must do so – as precise an example of just how brainwashed and sycophantic most white Britons in the UK’s entrenched class system and likewise their similarly idiotic kin infesting those countries that they’ve genocidally taken from their indigenous population are, yet most asininely still want for Britain, which is still run by white Caucasians, as are all other European countries obviously, to be an exclusive bastion of all white habitation -  actually saw Kate Middleton, when rags like the Daily Mail distinctly branded and lampooned her as bone idled Waity Katie; until that is Kate successfully bagged a weak and witless William, undeniably and effectively the weakest link in the Windsor chain, with her relentless and distinctively obsessive stalking - there are undoubtedly many people in Britain currently with obviously criminal convictions for that same sort of thing but Kate got away with it because of was actually knocking her off - when the unflattering remarks pertaining to Kate, though they didn’t actually stop were however, all the same, somewhat diminished - and quite fortunately as well for this deeply inured gold digger;  with another advantageous state of affairs to her very entrenched plans fortuitously coming along when Meghan Markle, most disconcertingly really for this evidently jealous and very odiously embedded Karen bitch Kate Middleton, appeared as Harry's obviously intended life partner.

And when evidently all the multifariously failed attempts to get Harry to give up the woman he genuinely loves and quite earnestly and honestly wanted to marry came to nothing, the campaign of enduringly racist vilification began; with the odious quartet of Charles, Camilla, William and Kate, the equivalent of the USA’s' Ku Klux Klan effectively and just as barbarically going into full attack mode and not dissimilar from that of the Ukrainian, the Britisches Freikorps and other World War 2 Waffen SS storm trooper elements against their victims and derogatorily perceived by them as "UNTERMENSCHEN", it was exactly the same attitude with this quartet of white, distinctively, undoubtedly over privileged; quite noxiously self-entitled and evidently, undeniably, pathetically, totally self-serving, white supremacist assholes of Charles, led as always by his tart Camilla, actively attendant in this joint exercise of theirs with William, whose innocently adorable mother Diana this same shameless adulterous bitch distinctively and concertedly assisted in destroying, and his very own personal gold digger wife, Kate Middleton.

And since quite obviously Harry actually had no intention of ever remotely, giving up the lady he loves and who evidently reciprocally loves him, and it's only very possible to carry out murder, and likely get away with it the once, even within a very privileged monarchical family like the Windsors without questions openly and rebelliously being asked, Meghan, quite unlike Diana, is still alive. But there are other ways of making people's lives quite intolerable if such targeted victims are either daft or so insecure within themselves to allow such conduct to effectively negatively impact on them and thankfully Megan: a thoroughly mentally liberated Black woman, and Harry after his journey, like Saul and totally complete transformation on his own road to Damascus experience after meeting Meghan, neither he Harry nor Meghan are that stupid, or would they allow the evil machinations of Charles, Camilla, William and Kate to either infect or stupidly control their personal lives. And that’s what really pisses of this odious quartet, their chum and the Palace’s PR! But the thickos that they are they’re too bloody stupid and full of themselves to admit that they’re not that bright and quite frankly Harry and Meghan and impervious to what they’re doing!

Besides Harry always intended to leave the Windsor monarchical lot in their role as a discernibly outmoded Dark Ages institutional body and it's my contention that he was obviously simply waiting until the right woman to rather beneficially complement his personal life came along. And in Meghan Harry found that woman. But all clever and highly intelligent folk know that if there are those who, for whatever sick reasons or none at all, hate you and you most pointedly ignore them it basically does essentially drive these ignorant mother fuckers mad; and this is precisely what is happening with Kate Middleton and the rest of them.

Harry fully knows, just like every other honest and intelligent person, who killed his mother and that what happened in Paris was no fucking accident. William does too, but this weak link is so very obsessed with gaining the prize, like Camilla has done and Kate similarly desperately wants to, that he's not in the least bit intelligent to see beyond the privilege he enjoys. So let's all try to psychologically destroy Harry and Meghan and delude ourselves that our problems - namely that people are waking up to what the monarchy is really all about - will actually go away. But they won’t, Wills and will only grow with intensity! And the institution which you belong to can't murder Meghan or Harry, or both of them, as it did your mother Diana, William; and then for a second time try to pass it off as an accident, as the world won't buy it. And bluntly, coming from me, if a President of the USA can be openly assassinated, need I say more relative to what could take place in Britain?

So brief the media rags and so-called royal experts all you want and continue to pay them rather handsomely for the tasks they're obviously doing on behalf of yourself, Kate, Camilla and Charles and others, attendant with the huge bribes which you pay them; but it's not going to change anything relative to the relationship of Harry and his adorable wife Meghan.

Finally, I'm not aware that Harry or his wife Meghan are going around odiously and evilly castigatory making purportedly damaging comments about any of our lot; so quite obviously, you noxious, rather toxically verminously prats in the Windsor family must really have a bad case of guilt-ridden feelings to be doing what you’re spending so much money on. Well bluntly, that's your fucking problem not Harry or Meghan's and this cultural Bajan, but enforcedly born Brit, doesn't mind unequivocally telling you so. For Bajan culture tells us to fear no one, anything or even death itself, as the last one of these Death is inevitable for everyone, so why worry yourself into a state over something which you can't ever change. As for Kate Middleton priding herself as a future queen and asininely laying the law down relative to Harry, this gold digger bitch should stop and consider that Harry is essentially and totally unquestionably a biological member of the Windsor family - forget the monarchical stuff that he's not interested in the least else he wouldn't have ditched it and left - and really has been prior to you Kate using your fanny, your stalking skills and William's stupidity in the hope that like another tart Camilla you’ll get the main prize. Don't bet on it, as life is full of misadventures; and besides neither Harry nor Meghan needs lectures from either you, or the likes of you! And while I personally have no problems with your consistent grinning like a bloody Cheshire cat, I would advise you Kate Middleton when it comes to Harry and Meghan to fucking well keep your trap shut, as quite obviously a dunderhead like you have nothing of importance to say. And bluntly, as an Academic most of my life who quit the UK educational system because of it’s evident dumbing down and moved to Germany because of the piss poor standards in Britain; let’s face, in the UK only intellectually challenged morons sent off to public and gee paying schools and Trust Fund pillocks, who then are allowed into the usual  far from genuinely academic universities but are ironically regarded as such because of their societal and elitist connections, do easy degrees: what genuine and truly hardworking Academics call Mickey Mouse degrees like History of Art and those other crap ones; and never really significant and truly inspiring and worthwhile degrees. And they know that whatever they do during their university time they’ll get passes because their corrupt lecturers, fervently hoping and expecting, in class ridden Britain, to get their respective gongs ensure that these prats don’t fail. And with you, Kate shagging William, and taking into consideration who he is in the sycophantic minds of these purblind assholes, there was no way that you nor William would have failed your degrees, if all you did on the papers was to simply write your respective names. So you might fool the cretins around the UK and elsewhere in the Anglophile world about your skills academically, but you certainly don’t fool, genuine hardworking Academics. Which reminds me about all the crap surrounding your not going to Singapore with William on his visit there, because you need to stay at home in the UK and help prepare George for his exams entry into Eton, where he will quite obviously be sent. Who the fuck do you think you’re kidding Kate, other than totally braindead and brainwashed morons. George doesn’t have to pass any exams to get into Eton, and if all he did on the paper was to write his name he would definitely still be automatically admitted, and with Eton declaring he had done so with undoubtedly obvious flying colours; and evidently rags like the Daily Mail unquestionably and also flamboyantly and most ridiculously echoing this wholly ludicrous crap!

And I know what I’m talking about, as I’ve been teaching and likewise, essentially as well, been in education, at all levels, for far longer than you've been baring your naked ass and fanny, Kate Middleton quite overtly from your bedroom within your dorm at the private school you were sent to, as an apt sexual titillation both for yourself and the lads across from where your dorm was located. Any other female would quite logically have been castigated and regarded as the obvious slut she is; but you, in the eyes and sick minds of the vile pillocks who infest Britain and the Anglophile world, are their future queen, so your sluttish conduct is alright! But to echo the words of Mandy Rice Davies: You would say that, wouldn't you?" Well to be quite frank with you Kate, with Camilla Parker Bowles herself now in that role of "Queen" the benchmark isn’t all that high, is it?

[spicyveggiesub]

some thoughts on the official subs for the revue starlight movie (woooo!!!!!!!!) (wrt my own)

overall: IT WAS GOOD. there were some questionable things but it was good. i do think a lot of it was better than mine (i mean i would hope so bc they are paid and qualified to do this and i am not) this is a very lighthearted post about small inconsistencies and things i just burned into my brain

first of all i was like. actively trying not to fixate on the translations so I didn't really look too closely at the lyrics, but i will say some of them blended together lines that in my opinion were not meant to be connected and so it distorted the meaning (what i understood it as at least), it was only in like 3 or 4 cases though i think (i honestly cant remember which) and there were many lines i liked more than my own (i cannot remember) some were also exactly or almost exactly the same

aside from lyrics:

on the train when they listed the starira schools. it was like:

Seisho Music Academy

Siegfeld

Rinmeikan

Frontier School of Arts

i died laughing at this. i wonder if like. whoever was doing this is a frontier fan and was like Oh yeah i for sure know it's Frontier School of Arts but im not sure about siegfeld or rmk im gonna check and get back to that and then they just didn't. it's just so funny. It's like they said you know the rest anyways just fill it in with your brain. i'm like so glad they did this genuinely

For some reason they kept putting seisho as Seisho Music School in dialogue. this was baffling because at one point (the first time i noticed, maybe the first time it happened) Karen was reading the letter she wrote to hikari and her application info books were on screen and it said in big letters SEISHO MUSIC ACADEMY on the seisho book and then below it it said Seisho Music School in the dialogue. i noticed this more after this.. i don't really get why they did that. nbd, my friend didnt even notice it at all, but funny

also they put Actress Training Class, which is like, a combination of starira's Actor Training Department and the text in the movie that says Stage Actress Class? kind of hilarious... we have three official translations for this now

the official revue names are

Annihilation Revue

Resentment Revue

Co-star Revue

Hunting Revue

Soul Revue

The Last Line

ngl this whole __ Revue thing is kind of growing on me. i like it. co-star is just wrong because 競 means to compete they just. kind of fully got that wrong and i hope it is right for the starira card(s?) 😭 also they put Super Star Spectacle as Superstar Spectacle which is fair but there is a space between super and star in the katakana and Super Star Spectacle is the spotify title

they misheard Masai as Sasai due to overlapping audio w the background conversation about a new cyclorama. this made me go ??????? because. did they not have a script?? or was it just a mistake from not checking the script... or did they just not have a script???

the sign when hikari appears says Stage Right Entrance. i put it as Lower Stage Entrance and that was once again me fucking up i have no excuse for this. i actually realized i messed that up a few days before watching this, i will update it in the files in a day or two. i am aware i look like an idiot

they translated 腐れ縁 in futaba's revue intro as inseparable (bond, or something), this made me go D: and doubt mine (rotten relationship). 腐れ縁 is basically like inseparable but negative, like you're stuck together even though you don't want to be. so i guess i was leaning more to the negative (and more literal) side, for better or for worse. i think it has some sort of weight in the context of futakao's relationship though since inseparable can be positive by itself.

give a hero trials, give a saint temptations, give me a devil, GIVE ME YOU. slay. (i dont remember if its singular or plural for the first 2 dont quote me on that)

ah this is one. Pierce through me, with your brilliance. to be honest i was like, a little bit unsure of if hikari really meant through HER, i had intuited that but didn't like. I didn't want to commit to it i was scared... i might change this in the files.

the Claudine Saijo... Beautiful you are. was imo kind of unnecessary....... i get it is supposed to be like archaic speech but you can just say You are beautiful but its not a big deal

at the beginning, i wasn't a huge fan of... This is a stage(/play? cant remember) for goodbye. this kind of sounds awkward to me... also the giraffe then said something like Starlight is a tragedy of inevitable goodbye. i am just not a huge fan of the use of goodbye here...

they missed AIJO KAWAN 😭 its ok so did I.

rip nana's Thou Shalt Not Die by Yosano Akiko reference 😭

nana: I made her cry / junna: I made you cry i wish they made junna say I made her cry so it would be a 1:1 mirror and also bc Nana isn't within earshot of junna when she says this..

New National First Theater Troupe (starira) -> New National Opera Company

Anemone Troupe -> Anemone Theater Troupe

The Distant El Dorado -> El Dorado, Far Away (why not Far Away El Dorado..), Beyond the Blue Skies -> Sky singular (just a stylistic thing i guess)

i will edit this post if i think of something else that isn't completely and utterly trivial. i can think of a lot of lines that were nearly or fully Exactly the same as mine but I don't want to bore you with that.

anyway it was fun 🎉 love the three starira schools Siegfeld, Rinmeikan, and Frontier School of Arts

[alwaysbeliev]

Snapdragons

happy (very belated) Valentine’s Day, @the-awkward-outlaw ! i hope you enjoy this!

summary:  Arthur Morgan has never been very good at talking about his thoughts and feelings. He finds it much easier to show them, and he hopes he's doing it the right way.

relationship: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

word count: 1838

link on AO3

The First

Sunlight filtered delicately through the trees in the early morning. Birds chirped somewhere above, hidden among the flourishing summer canopy, a shadow dashing here and there between the branches. A squirrel scurried around roots on the forest floor, pausing only to dig at a spot and sniff before deciding it was fruitless and moving on. 

You idly watched them, bundled in your coat as you stood by the morning campfire, holding a tin cup of coffee in your hands. The heat had pierced through the metal and was warming your cold hands. In slow, deep breaths, you inhaled the fumes, grateful for the steam that wafted upwards. It would be another hour before the air truly started to warm up.

Most of the camp was stirring now. You heard the rustling of Pearson at his wagon as he dug through the cart in search of ingredients. Jack emerged from his family’s tent, Abigail’s voice trailing after him in kind fashion, followed by a grunt from John. Miss O’Shea was combing her fingers through her hair just outside hers and Dutch’s tent. It was nice to watch them all in these moments and learn more about them than they might know about themselves. They were tiny snapshots into their lives.

But the one person you enjoyed watching the most was markedly absent from the group. His cot was visible to all the camp in these summer months, the little table with the flower and the photographs pinned to the side of the wagon. There was no indication he had slept there last night. You inhaled deeply, allowing it to lift your shoulders as you took a drink from your cup again. You didn’t dare ask where he was. You were determined, for some unknown reason both to you and externally, that nobody knew you were sweet on Arthur. You were sure it might give people the wrong idea. 

For several months, you had been learning about the van der Linde gang. You had found them in New Austin, scouting the streets of Tumbleweed, and Dutch thought you were after them. Instead, you partnered on a score, and were ultimately invited to work with them permanently. “Family”, he said they were. You had never really known “family”, but were happy to be included. Now, you knew it meant you belonged.

Arthur had been wary of you for a long time. It wasn’t until Blackwater when he started focusing on keeping everyone together that he softened. “Softened” was the mildest word available for it, as he merely stopped shooting you disdained looks and avoiding you, but shortly after, he started having actual conversations with you. Not much longer after that, you would even call him your friend, and you wanted to be more. You knew his past now, though, and were sure it wasn’t in your cards. For now, you were content.

As you finished your cup and stepped away from the fire, the sound of slowly approaching hoofsteps made your head turn. Arthur and Hosea were riding back into camp, the former atop a new horse and the latter looking his age. You smiled involuntarily and hurriedly turned away in hopes that nobody saw. You busied yourself with placing your cup near the dishes that needed washing, certain you would be asked to do those later, and tugged your jacket tighter around your shoulders.

Someone called your name. You were surprised to see that it was Arthur, approaching you with a hand behind his back. Jack had done the same thing to you more than once, gifting you both frogs and candies on separate occasions. 

“Mr. Morgan,” you greeted with a genuine smile, “how are you gettin’ on?”

“Jus’ fine, thank you,” he replied. He smiled, too, but abashedly. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course, I just, ah… I ain’t very good at this kinda thing, but thought you might appreciate these.” With a clumsy flourish, the cowboy pulled a cluster of flowers from behind his back, gripped tightly in his fist. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized your favorite, snapdragons, in the center. Your mouth dropped open and you fumbled for words. Emotions raced through your head too fast for you to capture any of them.

“I, er, heard you the other day,” he admitted, “tellin’ the girls that you missed having some color around. We was out huntin’ and I saw ‘em and, well…” Arthur was out of words. He offered them again. Gingerly, as if nervous they might disappear, you took them from him, carefully thumbing through them with your other hand to identify what else was in the bouquet. It looked as though they had all hung from his saddle on his return journey, the leaves a little wilted and dusty, but the gesture was enough to bring a small sting to your eye.

“Thank you.” You barely managed to get the words out. You swallowed the emotion before looking up at him again. “That was mighty kind of you, Arthur, thank you very much.”

“Course,” he muttered, one hand gripping his belt while the other rubbed the back of his neck. 

The Second

The gang had to move camp. Again. It felt like there was no chance to make a real home, more and more trouble coming your way. There were rumors of Pinkertons out here. How they had followed you through the mountains, you were at a loss, but there they were and away the gang had to go.

Following Mrs. Grimshaw’s orders, you helped Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth pack up the bed rolls and take down tents. You walked Horseshoe Overlook back and forth to make sure no identifying items were left behind. Soon, you were sitting in a wagon watching the fading camp. Recent memories of laughing, drinking, and even dancing with Arthur rolled through your mind. Mary-Beth took your hand and squeezed it. You gave her what you hoped was a reassuring smile. 

Since bringing you flowers, Arthur had become an entirely different person. There was a strange kindness to him. You had seen it before, but now it felt tenfold, and most of it was directed to you. He would share his treats, his coats, sometimes part of his meal if he thought you might still be hungry, even showing you some of the sketches he made in his elusive journal. Tilly and Karen hadn’t missed it. Mary-Beth even sighed dreamily over some imaginary scenario in her head and called it “romantic”. It made you feel giddy.

Charles greeted the head of the wagon train. After entering a cove of trees, the wagons rolled onto a grassy clearing that edged up to a lake. A large tree took up the center, providing a great ceiling to what you hoped was the last place you would have to make home. Everyone circled in and you were immediately put to work again. 

Hours later, the sun was setting on yet another day, and you watched it from a log on the lake shore. The smell of the evening stew was drifting towards the water. You had finally cooled off-- as much as you could, anyway, with the humidity-- and were just beginning to think of going for your shawl. Gravel crunched behind you and you turned to see Arthur approaching. He seemed down, the golden light highlighting all of his scars and frown lines. 

“Mr. Morgan.” You hoped your eagerness wasn’t visible to him in the low light. His face, however, lifted instantaneously.

“Hope your day weren’t too rough,” he mumbled, stepping over the log to sit beside you. Casually, as though he had done it a million times, Arthur pulled some flowers from his satchel. They were more snapdragons, different colors than last time, and your face split into a wide grin. 

“Well, it’s much better now.” Feeling a rush of bravery, you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. It was rough and smelled different than you expected, but it fit him perfectly. The tinge of red in his cheek might have been explained away by the sunset turning a shade of pink by someone who wasn’t paying much attention. The bravery was gone almost as soon as it had arrived and you turned your gaze back to the flowers in your hand, gently picking at the leaves. 

“Anyway, thank you,” you murmured. He grunted about it being nothing and you fell into silence together, your head burning with questions you were too nervous still to ask.

The Third

Early morning in Saint Denis had its own little charms. The city made you uneasy, that was for sure, and you knew you would long to return to the untamed wilderness soon, but as you studied the way the light shone on the buildings and listened to the sounds of the streets waking up, you could understand the appeal. Vines grew up the balcony, bees buzzed lazily between the small buds, the occasional neighbor greeted the other. Slowly, you grew aware of your immediate surroundings; the soft blanket, the real mattress beneath you, the new pillow under your head. Memories from the night before were beginning to set in and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning widely. 

Arthur had gone with Dutch and a few others to a party the mayor was throwing. You knew it was important, and what they were doing was dangerous, but he looked so good in his suit, you couldn’t find it in yourself to worry too much. The friendship between the two of you had blossomed into something more, something both soft and fiery, comforting and passionate. With the move to Shady Belle, you found yourself spending more nights in Arthur’s room inside of the house than on your bedroll outside. He seemed to have read your mind when he saw you looking at him dressed up, slipping cash into your hand and giving you whispered instructions to meet him at a hotel that night, after the party.

Inhaling deeply, you turned onto your back, stretching your arm over to find who filled the space beside you. It was surprisingly empty, and your head turned to find the blankets poorly pulled back into place. In the dip on the pillow, however, were snapdragons. Pink, red, white, mixed with a few other wildflowers. It was a bigger bouquet than he had given you in the past and it was tied together with a piece of twine. A paper with a short message was laying beside it. Picking it up, you read:

Went for a ride. We both needed to stretch our legs, you understand. I will be back soon. Stay in bed, I will have breakfast soon. Yours, Arthur.

He was yours. He brought flowers, he was bringing breakfast, and it was all for you. Finally feeling content, you closed your eyes again, allowing sleep to pull you away until he made his return. This was your happy place, you thought as you drifted off again. You could stay here forever.

[kevyfanfics]

Touch Deprivation: When in Doubt, Hug it Out

Trying this out!! Seen a lot of “tumblr fics” out there so I thought I’d see how if goes :) This is part of my “Irondad Ending in Platonic Cuddles” one shot series!

---

Peter sits on the edge of the sixteen story building, feet dangling towards the street below as cars inch their way through the lunchtime traffic. Golden beams of the midday sun reflect in his lenses, but he doesn’t feel their warmth. It’s not the same. He sighs and a cloud of steam floats through the crisp, winter air.

“May has texted you that she won’t be able to make it home tonight for dinner,” Karen softly relays the message. “Her shift has been extended.” Peter closes his eyes and focuses on the chilled breeze.

“I know.” For once, his voice is ladened with defeat and acceptance. This has been the usual for the past few months. May has to work extra shifts to keep up with the ever-increasing bills, he has school and Spider-Man, mix those two together and they’ve seen each other for a total of four hours in the past week. He’s been counting. He knows keeping track isn't a good sign, but what else is there to do?

“Peter?” Karen’s voice reaches him through the deep thoughts. Peter opens his eyes and hums a response.

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” He considers the question. Ned and MJ have been asking him that a lot lately, but he hasn’t quite found a good way to answer it. He just…doesn’t know how he feels. He’s not sure he does feel. He just kind of exists.

“I miss…people,” he settles on. It doesn’t feel right, but it doesn’t feel wrong, either. Feelings are difficult and he doesn’t have the energy to decipher them. Instead, he pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. The pressure against his chest feels nice. Comforting, even.

“You saw MJ and Ned today,” Karen gently reminds, trying to coax more out of him without pushing it. Peter takes in another deep breath before shrugging.

“I miss May,” he finds he’s able to clarify. He loves his friends, but coming home to an empty house for two months straight is different. If it weren’t for patrols and workshop days, he’d go stir crazy over the break.

“You had dinner with her last night,” Karen attempts, her voice sweeter than usual. “That was nice.” Peter continues to stare at the pedestrians as they cross the street in hordes.

“The only reason we ate together was because we both got home at 2am and had leftover Chinese takeout,” he counters without much thought. Even to his own ears his voice is monotonous. He feels like he lost a part of himself, but it makes him feel selfish. May’s working hard to make sure they can get by and he’s a bit lonely.

Either way, last night was a rough patrol and he ended up unceremoniously climbing through the window at 2:13am all battered and bruised. That’s all he’s gotten recently. Nothing but punches to the face, kicks to the stomach, bruises to the ribs, blood coating his hands. Nothing but violence. He hasn’t had a single, positive touch in two months. No hugs, no loving hand rubbing his back, no lingering touch in his hair, no gentle thumb smoothing over his palm. Nothing but violence violence viole-

“Peter, your alarm is going off.” Karen’s voice pulls him back once more, and it takes him a moment to process what she just said.

“Hm?” He blinks sluggishly, then unfurls his warm legs from his chest, already missing the pressure.

“It’s time to head to the workshop,” Karen patiently provides, an absolute saint as usual. Oh, Peter thinks, it’s already four. It doesn’t feel like 4pm, but he can’t exactly argue with time and space. Rolling out his stiff, aching shoulders, he lazily flings out a web and starts swinging to the Tower. He just goes through the motions: thwip, double tap to release, thwip, double tap to release.

And, in what feels like the blink of any eye, he’s there. His muscles are taut and trembling from the frigid air, but when he slips inside one of the countless windows, the warmth from the Tower at least helps minutely. As soon as he’s clear, he pulls off the mask and breathes in fresh, spandex-free air. His teeth chatter and he warms his arms up with his hands, but besides that he’s no worse for wear.

“Hey, Fri? Where’s Mr. stark?” he asks through chattering teeth hidden behind blue-tinted lips.

“He's down in the shop. I’ve alerted him to your arrival,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. promptly replies and he nods a quick thanks. First, he goes to his room to change into normal clothes, then catches a ride down the elevator. His lips are more of a peach color again, but his teeth still clack against each other as his body tries to generate some warmth. Stupid spiders with their no thermoregulation. The elevator comes to a halt and he walks into the music-ridden, always-bustling workshop.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” he shouts over both the welder and the guitar solo. Tony’s head pops up and the music lowers at the wave of his hand.

“Hey, kid,” he greets, lifting his goggles with a smile. “How’s your bumps and bruises.” Peter shrugs, hardly remembering the superficial injuries from last night’s fight, before sitting on the nearby stool.

“Don’t really feel them anymore,” he answers honestly as he rubs his hands together. Feeling is hard these days. Tony raises a curious eyebrow, then sets down his tools and saunters over to the teen.

“And is that because of the super spidey healing or the ice cubes you call fingers?” he inquires casually. Peter glances up and tries to put on his best I’m-really-not-in-the-mood-for-this face. Nonetheless, Tony chuckles at the expression. “Alright, alright, just get warm at least.”

“I’m trying.” Peter looks back down as he responds, but then an unexpected touch has him freezing in place, muscles tense.

“Jeez, bud, you’re frozen,” Tony mutters aloud as he rubs Peter’s hands in his own to provide more warmth. It takes more than a few seconds for Peter to register what's happening. But when he does, he slowly looks up at Tony as the man continues to warm the cold hands in his own. For some reason, it makes Peter want to cry. The hands are gentle, carefully moving back and forth and all he can focus on is that it doesn’t hurt. After months of nothing but agony and breaks and blood, there’s finally something full of love and support.

He closes his eyes and his eyebrows pull together…and he starts to cry. He doesn’t mean to, but the tears slip out in a mix of relief and pent-up devastation. His toes curl under in an attempt to regain control, but it’s already too late.

“Peter? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Tony suddenly questions when he sees the tears and Peter’s distraught expression. All Peter can manage is the shake of his head, causing tears to fall from his chin and onto his jeans. He should’ve been more prepared, but he wasn’t expecting the concerned tone or the protective hands encasing his. He didn’t realize he was touch deprived until Tony held his hands, the first positive touch he’s had in two months. Two months. “I need you to talk to me so I can help,” Tony tries to get through to him, kneeling at his level.

“I- I don’t-“ is as far as Peter gets before a sob cuts him off. He wants to curl up in a ball and never face the outside world again. It’s like his armor has cracked and the cruel reality of just how brutal and heartless the world can be is flooding in. It’s breached completely when one of Tony’s hands leaves his and cups his cheek.

He doesn’t hold back the sobs after that.

He simply cries, leaning into the soft touch and grabbing his mentor’s wrist like a lifeline. The thought of losing the contact now is unbearable. He can’t. He just can’t. At the action, Tony seems to catch on. This time, he pulls Peter into his chest and holds the kid tightly in his arms.

“You’re okay,” he assures into Peter’s curls, “I got you.” Peter feels them begin to rock and a hand rubs its way up and down his back in a comforting, predictable motion. He pulls in shuddering, uneven breaths, but his body isn’t ready to calm down. Instead, he grips Tony’s sleeves and buries his head in his chest so that his sobs are muffled by fabric. All the built up emotions force their way out, but being hugged is all he needs. Warm, strong arms keeping him safe. His cries rip Tony apart at the seams and he wonders how he could’ve missed this. It’s a basic human need to have positive, physical affirmation, something Peter evidently hasn’t had for a while.

The hug eases the aching in Peter’s chest and he holds on tighter. He can’t lose this feeling again. After all these weeks of apathy and going through the motions, he’s finally able to feel everything.

“I can't- there’s no-“ Tony gently hushes him, afraid that the teen will work himself into a panic attack if this keeps up. Honestly, it’s the last thing on Peter’s mind. He just knows he doesn’t want to be let go.

“Deep breaths, kiddo,” Tony patiently encourages. Peter can feel him shift and he registers that they somehow made it to the floor while he was focused on gripping the fabric closer. Breathing, Peter recalls, breathing is important. Gotta breathe. Just have to- He takes a deep, shaking breath, but the exhale becomes a sob and he just can’t pull himself together and he hates it and he just wants to be in control again- “I’m so proud of you.” He starts at the quiet, genuine admission. “I’m unbelievably proud of you,” Tony continues. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time. Sometimes strength is asking for help when it’s tough.” Peter’s chin wobbles and fresh tears glide down his cheeks. He nods into Tony’s shoulder, and pulls his legs to his chest for extra comfort.

“It’s, it’s been tough for a while,” he divulges in a hoarse whisper.

“I know, kid,” Tony acknowledges, lightly combing his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“I didn’t,” the teen confesses in a whisper. He really hadn’t seen any of this coming. “I thought I was okay. I, I thought I was fine just doing what I,” he swallows, “what I was doing. I didn’t think it affected me this much. It was just…I didn’t feel anything.” Apathy was probably a more apt description, but it was true. He hadn’t felt any intense emotion in such a long period of time that Tony’s loving, concerned action sent him into overdrive. Tony lets out a deep breath and rests his chin atop Peter’s head, tucking the kid into him to provide as much comfort as possible.

“From a scientific standpoint, lack of human contact decreases cortisol levels and NK cells,” Tony points out. It might seem like a cold and calculating response, but he knows what he’s doing; he’s putting it into perspective for Peter. He’s showing the kid that it isn’t just all in his head. It’s a physical change to a lack of touch. Peter let’s out a breathless chuckle, his wound up muscles starting to relax into the hug.

“A, uh, a hug needs to last at least twenty seconds for dopamine and serotonin to be released. Happy brain chemicals,” he adds with a sniff, closing his eyes. He just needs a moment to take it all in. It’s rare for Tony to be the one to illicit physical contact, so he accepts it while can.

“Well then,” Tony softly starts, “guess we gotta wait til you have enough happy brain chemicals.” He situates them more comfortably on the floor, then tightens his hold. Another trembling breath escapes Peter, emotions still raw and superficial, but manageable. It's a start, and if that start just so happens to be in Tony’s arms, maybe it’s not such a bad one.

[oabf45]

Ok so I finally watched the new 9-1-1 and 9-1-1 Lone Star episodes and here is what I think overall for the seasons so far, the characters, and part 2 of the seasons. Badically my opinions no one asked for 😁

9-1-1

- Let's rip the band aid off. I'm sorry but we're never getting Buddie. I'm a huge Buddie shipper myself, but I honestly have reached the point where I just don't see it happening. For one their friendship alone just isn't what it's been the past two seasons. Idk if its just me feeling this, but their scenes together, though sweet, just haven't been what they've been in the past. I mean this last episode is the most connection I feel from their characters than i have this whole season. I'm still not over Eddie's lack of reaction to Buck being trapped when Buck was ready to dig through the earth to find Eddie. Though I think there is still a chance Buck could be BI I just no longer have hope that Buddie is going to be a thing. I mean, they've at least hinted that Buck could ride that way, but Eddie has given zero signs of being into men at all. But honestly if they at least explore a BI Buck then I'll be happy, even if he's not with Eddie. It also doesn't help that there's a HUGE possibility that Oliver and Ryan don't get along anymore. They stopped following each other on social media and they post pictures with all the rest of the cast except each other. Its just looking extremely unlikely.

- I don't think Ana deserves as much hate as she's getting. I wasn't so fond of the Eddie/Ana pairing either, mostly because I was so into Buddie. But Ana does seem genuinely a great person and its a plus that Christopher loves her. I just wish that if they were going to persue this they would have built it up more and showed us more of her character. I mean we know close to nothing about her which is what makes it hard to like her or like her with Eddie.

- I'm glad that even if Buck doesn't end up with Eddie he still is obviously going to be someone very close to Christopher. Their relationship is so absolutely darling and even if its not Buddie, Buck is very obviously like a second dad.

- At first I was not at all happy with them bringing back Taylor. I found her character so freaking annoying in the past. But honestly her character seems to have mellowed out and I actually liked her. But I am PRAYING that if she sticks around its just as a friend and not a girlfriend. Buck and Taylor are just a huge NOPE in my book.

- I need more of Athena, Bobby, and Michael ASAP! I miss seeing them more on my screen!

- I'm super excited for baby Chimney/Maddie. And I'm so happy Chimney felt safe enough in his relationship to express his feelings about an at home birth. Their relationship is so sweet and healthy and it makes my heart so warm

- I swear on everything I love if they take that little baby away from Hen and Karen I will RIOT! I also hope to see more of Hen's mom and can't wait to see her pass her exam.

- Albert was wrong for dating Buck's bad date, but he's a good guy and overall a good friend. Buck needs more friends outside of Eddie. I hope they give him more of a storyline in part 2.

- Overall loved the first half of 9-1-1 season 4. I hope they do another crossover in part 2 so that Buck can meet Carlos.

9-1-1 Lone Star

- Yes I have hated the baby trope this first half, yes Gwyn has been annoying af and I'm ready for her to go, and YES Owen has been annoying this season too. But I still love Owen and no I don't believe he's a bad person or a bad father. I hope they do right by his character in the second part and bring the old Owen back now that his life is going to go back to what it was. But I also know this is going to leave room for another romantic interest which you just know they're going to bring in. Maybe they'll bring Michelle back 🤷🏽‍♀️

- The amount of screen time Carlos got is *chefs kiss*. I'm so glad we got to see more into his family dynamic. And how great he is as a cop?! Like make that man a detective already! Also Rafael's acting is superb. He has the most expressive eyes I've ever seen! His face with Owen compliments him on his caring heart and how that makes him a great cop? He BEAMED and it was like no one had ever told him that before. I wanted to hug him so badly.

- I'm so happy they're showing a healthy gay relationship. Sure they've had their ups and downs, but they show TK and Carlos working it out perfectly with good communication which is what we need to see represented more with LGBTQ+ couples on TV. I have no doubt they'll last because they're literally the reason most people tune in and the showrunners know that. And that reuniting hug? Ronen and Raf's real life friendship makes their on screen relationship feel so real and I hope that never changes.

- I need more Mateo. The only thing we know is that he's dyslexic and has a cousin in LA. He's such a great character I wish they'd give him more screen time.

- I know that most y'all see them as just a brother/sister pair, but I love the idea of Mateo/Marjan as a couple. I feel like she could help him grow up a little while he could help her have more fun. But either way I love their relationship and want to see more.

-PLEASE give Paul a GREAT love interest. Someone who loves and accepts him for everything he is. He deserves so much love.

- Tommy Vega is THAT BITCH! She deadass basically said "shoot me. You won't". LOVE seeing a strong black woman on the screen. And I hope they give more screen time to Nancy. I feel like she could be a really interesting character.

- Am I the only one that kind of wants to see them bring back Billy Tyson? I know thats so random, but I think he needs redemption. Idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

- Last but not least......thank GOD I read spoilers before watching the episode because if I hadn't prepared myself and they ended the show with that bridge scene......all I gotta say is JUDD AND GRACE BETTER BE FUCKING OK! OR I'M FIGHTING EVERY DAMN BODY! But honestly I think they will be. These two make the show, for one. Judd is deadass the glue that holds that firehouse together and is overall a great character. No way they're killing him off. And Grace is a fucking saint and also a great character. And she's one of the only two black women on the show. Showrunners, y'all really wanna try that? They're such a great, healthy relationship who are literally so unstoppable together. I think they'll have some trauma but survive. And possibly a Ryder baby? Yes please, and please let it be a baby boy. Judd needs a little mixed cowboy 🤠

- Overall the season has been good, but too Owen/Gwyn central. Hoping the next part has more spotlight on the others. Maybe some "Character Begins" episodes? I think a "Judd Begins" Episode would be perfect to start off with to tie into the whole "omg is he alive" aspect we're bound to get.

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x FemOC} Chapter 10

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: None

.....

The next morning was blissfully quiet, everyone going about their business and doing camp chores as per usual. Sitting with Mary-Beth, hand deep in laundry buckets overflowing with soapy water I couldn't help but wonder why there wasn't a sense of urgency after the meeting with those Pinkertons yesterday. With how worried Arthur seemed I was under the impression it was a serious matter that would need to be dealt with in some way. Maybe they were used to this happening, maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as I perceived it to be.

“Do you read, Miss Bella?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Sure. Used to always read as a kid.”

“Any of those being romance and love stories? Those are my favourite to read.”

“A few. Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Madame Bovary, although that one is tragic in the end.” I wring out a shirt covered in dirt and even blood from a recent stagecoach job a few of the men went on. I didn't even want to ask whose blood it was. Scrunching my nose in slight disgust and plunging the shirt back into the water to work at it some more.

“I’ve written a few little stories of my own, hoping to write a novel someday.” She smiled sheepishly to me then looking back down to the bucket. Violently scrubbing at something that must also look in the same state as the shirt currently in my hands.

“Haven’t you ever thought of leaving and making a true love story of your own?” I shift my legs from below me to sit more comfortably. The knife I hadn’t yet given back to Arthur after being at the lake slightly stabbing into my ankle from its position in my boot.

“I have once or twice. It’s too dangerous for us ladies being out in the world alone. I don’t know where I would be if Dutch and Hosea didn’t find me a few years ago.”

“What happened?” I look at her now. I had a genuine curiosity when it came to knowing these peoples stories and how they all came together. They all had lives I would only ever hear about in story books or newspapers so being a part of their lives and this merry band of fools was still rather surreal to me. Like one of those dreams that feel so real until you woke up, only I hoped I wouldn’t wake from this due to the fear of waking up back in that house, Frank at my side

“I was getting chased by a few men I had stolen from. I’m a damn good pickpocket but I must have got a bit too confident. Dutch and Hosea saw and helped me get away with them.”

I shot her a smile, both of us continuing with our tasks before Miss Grimshaw made her rounds and scolds us for slacking.

By mid-afternoon when some sense of quiet had fallen within the camp, I made my way to the edge of the camp, sitting upon a rock and looking out over the overlook, coffee in hand. My fingers still shriveled up, resembling raisins from the seeminly never-ending laundry this morning.

“Not thinking of jumping again are you?” Arthur pulls me from my thoughts as he approaches. 

“Not funny. Besides, why would I jump when I have a gun in my possession now?”

He huffs at that, coming over to stand beside me and pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his satchel. Lighting one with a match strike to the rock I was sat on. “You okay after yesterday?”

“Yeah, just,” I bite my lip, thinking of the right words to say “Is nothing going to be done about it? Seems like a serious issue.”

“Dutch says he’s dealing with it.”

I hum at this, trusting his word on the matter.

“Busy today?” I ask, taking a brief sip of my coffee, feeling it flow down my throat and burn slightly.

“Well, had to collect some debt not far from here on behalf of Strauss. Fella was dead already.”

“Have you told Strauss that you didn’t get the money?”

“Nah not yet. Should have forced it from the widow but I couldn’t. Might be legal work but it don’t sit right with me,”

“How so?” 

“Robbing banks and stealing from rich folk is one thing, they have all the money they need while others starve. Strauss picks out those that are starving, those with nothing.”

“Don’t do it then.” I shrug, seemingly pointing out the obvious.

“We need the money.” He shrugs too, taking a drag and blowing out the plume of smoke.

“So do they. Help people as need helping. That’s what you said to me.”

“Ain’t that simple.” he huffs again, this time in frustration.

“I’m still not accustomed to your way of life yet. But, I do have a few questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Five thousand dollars. How on earth did you get a bounty that high?”

“Numerous things. Robberies, killings, hostages.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that one.” I nod before turning to face him. Arthur swaying slightly with a hand resting on his gun belt before continuing.

“Being Dutchs’ main gun, so they call me, is probably a reason too. I wasn’t involved with the job in Blackwater but my name was mentioned regardless.” He takes another drag before flicking the stub out over the edge.

“What happened in Blackwater?” I ask, my coffee now cooling and long-forgotten, still in the clutches on my hands and perched on my lap. 

And so he told me of what happened. That he had a job with Hosea that seemed like it would work out fine without needing to rob a ferry full of bank money. That the robbery turned into a massacre, swarmed by Pinkertons with no way but to shoot their way out and everyone fleeing for the hills. The hushed words of Dutch killing an innocent woman. Having to escape from Blackwater and the Great Plains and up into the deadly icy mountains, losing most of their possessions, all their money and a few members along the way. Then they ended up here, trying to lay low until they had enough money to leave again. That’s why they planned to rob Frank. Strike up a false business deal and then take what he had at the party all those weeks ago. It was risky but with being so far from Saint Denis they thought it would be worth a shot. They are desperate. “I know plenty of rotten rich folk. If any opportunity comes up for you to rob them. I’m more than happy to give over whatever information I have.”

“Really? You would help us to rob your fancy friends?”

“They ain’t my friends. Like I said, some of them are rotten and deserve it.”

“Sure.”

There were a few moments of silence as he shifted on his feet again. I turned back to the view ahead and then down to the cold cup in my hands, huffing as I flung the liquid out onto the grass at my feet. Might as well get another cup.

“I best go see what John wants in town.”

I nodded with a smile and with that he left and made his way to the horses. Giving his horse a few gentle pats on the neck before mounting up and leaving camp towards Valentine.  

Sitting with Abigail and Tilly at the fire a few hours later, laughing amongst ourselves and sharing a bottle of whiskey, enjoying the easy day it had been. That was until rumbling hoof beats came thundering down the eastern path. Dutch, John and an injured Strauss shouting for everyone to get started on packing up the camp now. Dutch made his way to his tent, Hosea following in quickly behind him. 

With the sudden sense of urgency, everyone stood and started gathering whatever they could around the camp, preparing wagons and disassembling tents. I didn’t really know what to do, so I sought out Grimshaw for orders as she was swiftly moving about the camp, making sure everyone was doing something. She soon presented me with one, helping Pearson pack up the food wagon and to make sure nothing is left behind. I turned on my heels and made a beeline towards the wagon in question wondering what the hell had happened for us to be moving so quickly. Questions for later I told myself as I helped Pearson empty water barrels and pack up all food wares.

It wasn’t long until everything was packed up, evidence that this had been done probably a few times in the past. Dutch had us all follow him in the front wagon, telling us all of a place that has been cleared out for us thanks to Charles and Arthur. I mounted Orion instead of sitting in a wagon with the other girls, staying close behind everyone as we made our way. The new camp sat right by Flat Iron Lake and it didn’t take long to reassemble everything again. Everything back up and running by nightfall.

The next morning everyone seemed to be woken by the brightness dawn brought upon us but the heat that Lemoyne was known for. Everyone was already sweating and agitated, although that agitation could also be down to having to run once again. Getting themselves into more trouble and some worried that it was going to be simply impossible to get themselves out of this hole they are digging for themselves. They believed Dutch would get them all to brighter pastures. A blind loyalty that hasn't failed them before. We were all filled in on the goings-on the day before by word of mouth. A shootout with Cornwalls men, John and Strauss lucky to get out with their lives if it wasn't for Dutchs’ way with words and Arthurs’ way with guns.

A few others planned on heading into the town nearby, Rhodes. To get a feel of the place and scope out any potential jobs or leads. Karen and I sat in the wagon, Arthur and Charles upfront as we made our way to the new town with new possibilities. I had mentioned a previous visit to Rhodes to sell a few horses to the Braithwait family that live nearby. Once at the dusty town of Rhodes, a thankful change from a soiled and shit foul town of Valentine, we all decided to split. Arthur and Charles made their way to the station, Karen towards the parlour house and I made my way to the general store. We were under strict orders not to ask too many questions to prevent bringing any unwanted attention to ourselves. Strangers turning up to this small town asking strange questions would spread quickly here. Three men sat on the stairs of the store, making my way past them without a second thought and entering the small store. A chime above the door alerting the owner as I made my way inside. The place didn't have much but it had the basic necessities. Sauntering around I took in what they had. Coffee, salted meat, tinned fruit, fresh produce, a few tonics and...chocolate bars. The corners of my mouth lifted in a bright smile at the sight of something sweet, oh it had been a good while since I had chocolate and I'm sure $2 for one bar would be worth it. 

I picked up a bar and a box of oatcakes for Orion, swiftly making my way to the counter to ring up my purchases. 

I exchanged pleasantries with the owner, a thin man with sparse hair on his head but an impressively large moustache. He asked if I was staying in town long when the door charm rang out behind me. I paid no mind to the various footsteps I could hear instead y attention was caught when one cleared their throat, prompting me to turn to face them. It was the three men previously sat outside, their attention solely on me.

“You look awfully familiar, Miss” One man said with a slight Irish accent from what I could tell.

“I’m new to town. Just passing through.” I smile slightly 

“A lady shouldn’t be passing through town on her own.” Another man said, stood by the door.

“Oh, I’m not…”

“Why don't you come with us?” The first man drawled, taking slow but confident steps towards me. Instinctively I moved back each time he made a step forwards, quickly being stopped by the serving counter digging into my back. “I...I assure you gentlemen I am... not alone” I stuttered, my eyes swiftly looking towards the windows in the hopes someone, anyone, would make their way over.

“I don't see anyone else here. You're coming with us, missy.” With that, he lurched forward to grab my arms. His grip digging into my flesh as I tried helplessly to push him off. Mentally scolding myself for not bringing my gun with me.

“Get off me!” I squealed, my thrashing no use as one of the other men appeared beside me, tying a cloth around my head and pushing the fabric into my mouth to quell my protests. A black sack following soon after to cover my full head. 

I trashed as hard as I could, kicking the man still gripping my arms so hard I'll for sure be left with bruises. 

“You're making this worse for yourself, missy. And you... say a word of this to anyone and this place will be burned to the ground with you in it!” With that, they began to drag me away through what must have been through the back door, away from the main street. 

My hand got tied together swiftly, the rope burning into my flesh and tears burning down my face. Trying to pull back was useless, digging my heels into the dry dirt a weak attempt to escape their relentless grasps. Hauling me up and onto the back of a horse, the three men laughed as they mounted. Taking me away to god knows where to do god knows what to me.

“Any funny business and I’ll punch seven shades of shit outta you. Give you something to cry about.” The man whose horse I was upon shouted back towards me, thundering hoofbeats ringing out in my ears.

@kashasenpai​

[writer-jamie]

how about arthur confessing his love for you after he learns he doesn’t have long to live 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Late Night Confessions - Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: When Arthur is told he doesn’t have much time left, the first thing he thought about was you. And how he refused to die without telling you how he feels.

Thank you for the request @s-s-s-s-t-a-r-s !! ❤️

Warnings: Game spoilers

Word Count: 1,455

A/N: AHHHH! I’m playing the game and just as this request came through, Arthur was told he had TB. I’m so sad but i’m going to make this last chapter last forever! Also before i wrote this i made sure to research whether or not TB can be transferred via kissing (It can’t) so this willl have some smooches. This broke me to write but it’s fluffy and cute and sad. So get ready!

As Arthur stumbled into that doctors office and slumped down in the chair, he knew the news wasn’t good. The doctors ran a few tests and washed his hands before telling him. Tuberculosis. His world went black and white as the doctor told him that his time was limited. He was going to die, from an illness that he got from someone he probably didn’t remember. Arthur just had one question for him. “Can i be around people? Y’know kiss and stuff?” He asked. “Yes. Just cover your mouth when you cough and you should be fine. Try not to pass it on, we don’t need a Tuberculosis outbreak in Saint Denis.” The doctor smiled at Arthur. But it wasn’t a genuine smile, it was a smile of condolence. A smile that you give to someone on their death bed.

Arthur left the doctors office and slowly stumbled down the street, when he saw you. You were all he cared about, and now he was going to leave you forever. He felt like he should have cried when he was told, but he couldn’t. The outlaw couldn’t cry over something as simple as death, it wasn’t worth it. He knew he was going to die one day; from a shoot out or the law catching up with them, not from an illness that would slowly kill him over the next couple weeks. His vision went grainy as he walked forwards, seeing you walk alongside a deer. You both turned to see the man before walking off into the distance, leaving him alone to come back to reality.

“Miss L/N!” Mrs Grimshaw’s loud shouting broke you out of your daydream. You looked up and saw her standing in front of you, looking down at the open journal you were holding in your hands. “You can draw people when you have finished your chores! Get on with them!” She yelled before walking away. You wished the old hag would just shut up. You do jobs with Dutch and Arthur now, you shouldn’t be made to also do chores like the other girls. You wish you would be treated like Sadie, who gets to be a proper man around the camp, but that’s unfortunately the way the cards were dealt. You looked down to your hands and a blush crept up your cheeks. You book was open on the page of Arthur sketches. You liked to sketch people at the campfire so when Arthur decided to join you one night, you couldn’t help but sketch his features. After all, it was only you two, and he would never know.

You moved from your place on your bed and put the journal away before following Tilly to the next chore. “Wish that old hag would get off my back sometimes.” Tilly whispered to you as you finished hanging the clothes to dry. You smiled and bumped her shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

As Arthur rode back into camp, he saw you sitting around the campfire with the group. The group hadn’t been the same since what happened in Saint Denis, with Hosea and Lenny dead and John taken, there was only so much people could do without causing an argument. Beaver Hollow was a nice place, but at this point you were just running from the law all around the country and there was only so far you could run. The Pinkertons found you too easily last time, everyone blamed Bill for bringing them to you but you were sure they were close to finding you anyway, so it didn’t make a difference either way.

You hummed along with Javier as he strummed his guitar. He hadn’t played for months, it just didn’t seem right. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around, seeing Karen bring you some food. You shook your head but the woman basically forced it into your lap. You hadn’t eaten properly since what happened in Saint Denis. And then with Molly. She was drunk. She probably didn’t even tell them what happened but Susan shot her. She murdered her. Molly was a snotty bitch and she thought she better than everyone when she started sleeping with Dutch but she’s hadn’t always been like that. When you first joined the gang, Molly was sweet to you. She made sure you were safe and eating well, like a mother figure. When Molly started being sweet on Dutch, she left you behind and Susan took over. That woman had saved you muliple times and you owed her a lot, but she shouldn’t have killed Molly, espcially when she was as drunk as she was. 

Karen sat next to you on the log and smiled as she made sure you ate. It wasn’t much but it was something and it showed that Karen cared. And you were grateful for that. You knew that Karen was having a rough time, looking down a bottle everyday but everyone deals with grief and pain in their own way. When Arthur went missing after Saint Denis, you joined the woman down the end of the bottle and you would ride around town, shooting anyone who wanted to have a fight. You were going off the deep end and you couldn’t stop. Arthur managed to bring you out of that for a days that he was back before he started helping people again.

After you finished your food, Karen gave you a loving hug and rocked you gently. It was something you didn’t think you needed but it was so welcome.

The fire crackled as the night went on. You were alone with just your thoughts for a few minutes before a shadowed figure joined you at the fire. “What’s a lady like you sittin’ here all alone?” You looked up to see Arthur joining you on the log. “Actually i was waiting for you to get back.” You passed Arthur your cup of coffee and looked into his eyes. “Somethin’ botherin’ you, Arthur?” You asked, noticing the skin on his cheeks looking more red as you looked more at him. “Ah it’s nothin’.” He coughed slightly. You furrowed your brow and put your hand on his back.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?” You put your hand on his cheek and held his hand. “I’m sick. Very sick.” He told you and took his hat off, looking into your wide eyes. “Arthur, what kinda sick? Like what’s the matter?” Arthur took a deep breath and looked into your eyes. “I’m afraid I'm going to die. Before i do i need to tell you somethin’.” He put his hands in your lap and looked forward into the fire pit. “Y/N. Ever since you came here, when we found you in that barn. I’ve thought you are beautiful and..” He blushed deeply and looked down, moving slightly in his seat. “Christ, i’m rubbish at this.” He ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. 

“Arthur..” You put your hand on his face and turned his face towards you. “Why are you only tellin’ me this now? When you are goin’ to leave me?” You tilted your head to face him. The sound of the fire was the only sound that was left. Arthur didn’t know what to say, and neither did you. You hoped that nobody would wander out their tent and see this situation. 

“’Cause i couldn’t die without tellin’ you how i feel.” He leaned forward and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “’Cause i love you.” You took a deep breath and looked at him. “Can i kiss you?” Arthur asked and put his hand against your cheek. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You asked, unsure what the rules were for his illness. “Yea. I would never put you in danger.” You smiled and moved closer towards him before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He pulled away when he felt water dripping on his face. 

“Y/N. Why you cryin’?” He asked and engulfed your cheeks with his big hands and held you close, rubbing away the tears. “’Cause i’m gonna lose you Arthur. And i don’t wanna lose you.” Arthur moved your hand to his chest. You mumbled as you felt his heartbeat drum against his chest. “You will be in ma heart forever.” You sniffled and leaned forward, placing your head against his chest. “I love ya.” He kissed your forehead and rubbed your shoulders. 

You sat up and placed your lips on his before placing a small kiss on his cheeks. “I love you too, Mr Morgan. Don’t you leave me just yet.” You pulled him into a hug. All he needed was you, and he knew he was going to be fine. 

[living-with-abhi]

Is Jamali Kamali Mosque still haunted?

Read There - https://www.livingwithabhi.com/post/must-visit-place-for-every-individual-jamali-kamali-mosque-tomb

My first genuine experience with Mehrauli Archeological Park was the latest year around October. That was the point at which I began to find out about lesser-known spots in Delhi. Even though I had visited some lesser-known landmarks prior in different pieces of the city too. As far as I might be concerned, the absolute first landmark that I visited was Qutub Minar.

The second landmark that I had the chance to catch wind of was Adham Khan's burial chamber which I visited double this year. I had no clue if there was a spot named Mehrauli Archeological Park. As far as I might be concerned, it was only the Qutub Complex and that is it.

In January, Jamali Kamali Tomb and mosque were the primary landmarks that I visited in MAP (Mehrauli Archeological Park) this year. The Indiana Jones in me took me to these ways.

At the point when I visited Jamali Kamali's burial place and mosque again in the principal seven-day stretch of December this year, I invested somewhat more energy, getting amazed by the engineering and plan that this landmark has conveyed every one of these hundreds of years.

I have been to Qutub Minar threefold in the day and once in the evening and each time I visited there, I passed before the Archeological Park which I had never known would hold such a fantastic legacy. The burial chamber and mosque of Jamali Kamali are the primary landmarks (however you will stroll along with the limit of Balban's burial place) which you will check whether you enter the recreation center from the Mehrauli Gurgaon street which is the fundamental access to the recreation center or regardless of whether you come from Qutub Minar metro station (Yellow Line).

It was awful for me to miss the burial place of Jamali Kamali for such a long time when I visited Qutub Minar. Even though the burial chamber of Azim Khan fascinated me, sitting on a rough plinth and being plainly noticeable from the street that to I had quite recently overlooked it during each one of those occasions. Landmarks like Jamali Kamali make me gaga for this city living with such legacies for quite a long time.

Being not very a long way from Delhi when I was in school, this capital city was about Red Fort and Qutub Minar. When I moved to Gurgaon in 2010, that radar extended somewhat more, and afterward, I moved to Delhi and presented myself to the unexposed parts of the city that I never read in secondary school history course books.

History of Jamali Kamali Tomb and Mosque – The Sufi Poet and His Disciple

When I say Delhi is home to hundreds of unknown monuments that lack proper documentation, Jamali Kamali's tomb, and mosque are no exception. Historians have different theories to establish the truth behind the history of Jamali Kamali's tomb and mosque. Yet, it is not certain if all those theories are true or not, and even if those theories are true, then to what extent? Moreover, you don’t want to believe more than one theory since you need a concrete source that can lay the foundation of the facts.

I went through an hour or so burrowing the data about the set of experiences behind the development of Jamali Kamali's burial chamber and the mosque however all I got was a sack loaded with realities with various speculations. Only one out of every odd hypothesis upholds the other. Subsequently, I gave up very much like others, since there are no verifiable records that can be accepted. Yet, there is no decision. As far as I might be concerned, large numbers of these realities seemed like fables.

I was perusing the blog entry composed by somebody. He has referenced plenty of hypotheses that history specialists have put for Jamali Kamali mosque and burial chamber. Indeed, before we talk about the authentic foundation of these landmarks, we should initially discuss Jamali Kamali.

It is said that Sheikh Hamid Fazlu’ullah was a Sufi saint and poet who was known by different names including Sheikh Jamal-ud-din Kamboh Dehlwai (Jamal Khan). Jamali was his pseudonym. He was born in a Sunni merchant family and came to India when Sikandar Lodhi was in power. He was known for his wonderful poetry. Sikandar Lodhi himself was a poet and it is said that he was so impressed by Jamal Khan’s poetry that he would get his work corrected by Jamal Khan.

Individuals called him Jamali since they were intrigued by the lovely words he would pen down. The Urdu word Jamal implies positive quality and excellence. Jamal Khan was a follower of Sheik Sama-ud-noise who was additionally a Sufi artist. At the point when Mughal crushed Lodhi and set up their force, Jamal Khan turned into the court artist during the standard of Babur and Humayun. He lived there till his demise.

The Urdu word Kamal implies wonder. Very little is thought about this other individual Kamali. He actually stays a secret. It isn't sure if he was Jamali's pupil or who he was actually. History specialists have put various speculations to build up the beginning of Kamali. However, a large portion of them are confounding and one thinks that it's difficult to trust in any of them. Since the two of them used to live respectively, it is said that he was named Kamali since it rhymed with Jamali. Also, that is the explanation the two of them are known as Jamali Kamali. Here are a few stories that I went over while finding out about Jamali Kamali burial place and mosque on the web:

– Kamali was a worker who served Jamali.

– Kamali was a writer and Jamali assumed praise for his verse.

– Kamali was Jamali's better half and later, she was depicted as a male.

– Kamali was Jamali's darling and the two of them were gay.

There is a great deal to be perused at this pointless to accept. Indeed, even Kamali's genuine name isn't referenced anyplace. Karen Chase has referenced their gay relationship in her book "Jamali Kamali – A Tale of Passion in Mughal India." I additionally read that Kamali kicked the bucket before Jamali.

Presently we should discuss the set of experiences behind the Jamali Kamali mosque and burial place. Since Jamali was a popular artist and Sufi holy person in the Mughal court, he had an incredible impact. If online realities are to be accepted, Humayun constructed Jamali Kamali's burial place after Jamali's passing. The landmark is supposed to be worked around 1528-29 and completed around 1536. Jamali was covered hereafter his passing.

Researchers likewise express that the verse that is referenced in Guru Granth Sahib had a place with Jamali. Baba Farid who composed the verse was a devotee of Qutubdin Bakhtiyar Kaki. Be that as it may, I don't know whether this depiction is valid or not. In this way, I am not getting it. If you know anything about it, do tell me.

Design of Mehrauli's Jamali Kamali Mosque and Mausoleum

The mosque of Jamali Kamali is set in an encased nursery. The mosque is worked of red sandstone alongside marble embellishment. The mosque has a chance lobby and a yard. The mosque has one vault and five curves just as a focal curve. As the curves move to the focal curve, their size increments. The focal curve is the biggest which has spandrels. These spandrels are enhanced with emblems. You will discover mihrab on the dividers just as engravings from the Quran. The edges of the mosque have octagonal pinnacles. The mosque has adorned arcades that actually hold the carvings and improvement however they have been endured at a few spots. The mosque is viewed as the heralds of the relative multitude of different mosques that worked during the Mughal time frame.

The burial place of Jamali Kamali is all around brightened. The level roof of the chamber is intensely brightened and put. The roof has been painted with blue and red ink just as it has engravings from the Quran. The dividers of the chamber have been improved with shaded tiles alongside sonnets composed by Jamali. The burial place has been enhanced wonderfully to such an extent that briefly, you will want to enter a gem box. There are two graves. One has a place with Jamali and one has a place with Kamali. These graves are fabricated near one another and on the off chance that you see them interestingly, you will imagine that the two of them were darlings.

The burial place of Jamali Kamali remains bolted and has been fixed to stay away from the pubic section. Since the landmark doesn't add anything to business the travel industry, in this way, the passage entryway of the burial chamber has been fixed. The dividers of the mosque have turned into love letters which you will see when you come here. Individuals have composed their names on the dividers which are pitiful. There is a demonstration in the constitution however not uphold.

Ticket and Timing of Jamali Kamali Tomb and Mosque

Jamali Kamali Tomb and mosque are among the landmarks to visit without a passage ticket in Delhi. The circumstance should be from 10 AM to 6 PM. You can without much of a stretch reach here from Qutub Minar metro station which is the closest metro station. Since it is situated in Mehrauli Archeological Park, there are a few different landmarks inside the recreation center which you should visit when you come here.

I visited the Jamali Kamali mosque and burial place in January 2020 interestingly. The second time I visited here was in the main seven-day stretch of December 2020. A considerable lot of the landmarks in the recreation center were shut while some were open which didn't sound good to me like Jamali Kamali mosque was open while Balban's Tomb which is simply inverse to the mosque was bolted. Rajao ki Baoli was open while an obscure burial place simply inverse was shut.

Myths About Jamali Kamali

There are a few fantasies about Jamali Kamali's burial place and mosque and these landmarks are known to be spooky. Individuals have encountered paranormal exercises here in obscurity. They have heard voices, creatures snarling, somebody's breath close to the ear, or they have had dreams of white lights and something frightful. It is likewise said that jinns live here. These are concocted stories as they were.

The burial place and mosque were revamped by ASI before the Commonwealth Games of 2010. The burial place and mosque of Jamali Kamali may not add to the standard of the travel industry of the city yet add a ton to the legacy. That is the explanation, for the most part, legacy darlings come here. You will not get any guide here. On the off chance that you need to investigate the recreation center and its landmark, possibly you should do it all alone or you need to contact the legacy walk coordinators in Delhi.

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