#oh i’m fumin

[zwouq]

i think i’m about to spend 500 euros on uni applications. in europe

[goodday-goodmorn]

Rahhhh it’s Christmas and i’m back! Today’s feature (feature? Should i start calling them that? Sounds kinda cool-) is the amazing @charliemwrites, specifically a little drabble (unedited as always), based off of their Keeper/Kept AU. Not thier most recent stuff- (I think it’s Neighbor Johnny or the Woof Woof series-) You know what? Just- Here. Everything they write is gold <3

Anyhow, i present: Domesticity and Devotion

“Oh to be a wild bird…”

You sigh, chin in your palm as you leisurely stare out at the window.

“Or a stray cat.” You muse, watching as one of the kitties of the neighborhood walks along outside.

“Those fuckers have it good. No shitty job. No rent to pay. Just free pets and wandering the world… and if someone’s being a dick they can hiss and bite all they want.”

You hum, reaching for your drink and sipping on it leisurely.

“I don’t think I could survive in the wild though.”

You say after a moment, realizing how you’re cuddled up in your blanket and sipping on your wendy’s lemonade, the TV playing some random comfort show and your laptop open as you halfheartedly play Papa's freezeria.

“Can barley survive in domesticity.” You mumble, glancing towards the envelope on the kitchen counter that you got this morning about a rent increase.

You sigh.

“Maybe in my next life i’ll be lucky enough to be reborn as some rich white ladies cat. Those fuckers are livin’ better than me that’s for sure.”

————

This is not what you meant.

When you wistfully wished to never have to step foot into the capitalist hellscape that was life again- that was not an open invitation for you to be whisked away against your will.

Apparently though, the 6 foot giant of a military man named Simion Riley, heard it as one.

Because now here you were, pampered and cared for like a bloody sugar baby or pure breed persian cat. Kept at some random location and fed and groomed and meticulously attended too.

All against your will, mind you.

However it’s hard to complain because well- you’re living life good. This realization, of just how good you have it- hits you when you feel yourself getting genuinely angry at the shitty romance novel you were reading.

The Male lead was treating the MC like shit- and the MC was letting him get away with it!

You feel your face physically grimace. To calm yourself down (because you are getting genuinely heated when she lets him shove her to the damn floor over asking him for a drink-), you set your i-pad down.

(It had been a gift; something sort of like a kindle, where you could only read books and listen to music. You weren’t sure what Simon did to it exactly- but it wasn’t just published books you had access too, comics, original works, poetry, you could get all sorts of reading stuff on here.)

“This mother fucker-“

You mumble to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head before huffing and picking the device back up. You’re close to cheering as you read the MC’s internal dialogue about wanting to bite his ass- (Truely an MC after your own heart- they were one of the main reasons you were still reading this shitshow-)

And yet, what does the main character do?

They get the drink for themselves and then let him snatch it from their hand and down it.

Nope. You’re fucking done. You’re fumin’ now, irrationally angry on the MC’s behalf because they’ve been putting up with this guy for fifteen chapters now.

The audacity of men- oh my god. You can’t believe this guy.

“Who does he think he is?!”

You grumble and then just for your own purposes you yell—

“Simon!”

Predictably he is at your side in a moment, dropping everything for you.

You have your arms crossed, as you say, “Go get me a drink.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes crinkled just a tad at your strange mood but doesn’t deny the order. Simply asks,

“Cold or hot?”

“Cold.”

And with that he’s gone, returning with a fresh glass of ice cold lemonade, complete with a little lemon slice on the rim of the glass. You sip it, set it aside and cross your leg, tapping your forehead.

“Give me a kiss.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, gently kissing your forehead.

“Kneel.”

His eyes are crinkled now with a bit of amusement, but he drops to his knees easy. Gently holding onto your soft thighs. (Always so gentle with you.)

“Course, pretty.”

He mumbles low, head tilted up to you in a question, “Need me to take care of you?”

You hum, absentmindedly messing with his hair and ignoring the way the question sends a slow pool of warmth into your tummy.

“No.”

It’s decisive. You’re practically preening with satisfaction at his actions.

“You can go now.” You say and like that, he gets up. Not a complaint on his lips even when you notice he’s got a raging boner.

“Wait!”

You call and he pauses, looking at you with a questioning hum.

“Kiss me again.”

And he does so, this time a soft gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulls away he mumbles an ever softer-

“Dinner will be ready in 10.”

You nod and pick up your tablet with satisfaction curling low in your gut. (For the duration of your reading all you can think about is how Simion would never.)

————

“And another thing-!”

Simion is absentmindedly (as absentmindedly as Simion of all people can get anyway-) rubbing circles into your back as you rant. You’re sat in his lap, coaxed into sitting there after he asked about your day.

So obviously you started to babble about the book you were reading, which turned into a whole rant session about how stupid the Male lead was.

“That stupid idiot- that moron- you wanna know what he does simion?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question. You’re gonna tell him anyway. Still he hums to show he’s still listening.

“This bastard shoves them into the ground. To the ground! Can you believe the it?”

He shakes his head lightly with a tsk.

“Exactly. God and then when they get the drink he has the audacity to snatch it from their hand and down it in one gulp before they can even say anything.”

You shake your head, so far into your little rant you don’t realize how much you’ve made yourself comfortable. Sitting in his lap fully, ranting to him like he’s an old friend. Your tongue is loose with comfort right now. And that must be what possessed you to say—

“Me personally? I could never. If you ever pulled that shit— God i don’t even know what i’d do but it would not be pretty

You close your eyes with a nod to yourself at your own words. Not aware of the way Simon’s eyes seem to soften. Not until he gently kisses the top of your head.

“Never.”

He says it so quietly you almost miss it. (Feverintly. Reverently. Like the very idea is absurd.)

“If i ever do something like that you run and break into my gun cabinet and bloody shoot me.”

And god his voice- he’s 100 percent fucking serious. Suddenly you feel warm and small in his lap, utterly tiny compared to the sheer size of his devotion for you.

It’s all you can do to mumble out a weak.

“Good.”

And the rest of the night is spent with you reading the rest of the book together. When the MC finally is able to get rid of the Male Lead, it is a joyous occasion that ends up with her absolutely clocking the guy in the face with a champagne glass. Which then leads into a curious conversation with you and ghost about how much damage that would actually do.

It’s a good day.

[cultherent]

An Accidental Email [Ch.2]

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

Chapter 2

Tuesday:

“Good morning, Y/N. You seem pretty happy today. What’s going on with you?”

“I just feel like today is going to be a good day, Shoto.” You beamed, your smile lingering. You went back to typing away on your laptop, answering the emails you didn’t answer the night before. You only looked up again when you saw Bakugo entering. You watched as he put his bag down on the floor and then sat down roughly beside you. You giggled as you turned to face him. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Your face,” you antagonized, trying to get a reaction. His eyebrows furrowed like always and he ignored you. You giggled some more and went back to work.

After a bit of time, you found yourself recording again with Bakugo; only you and him in the room. “So, Cocksuki,” you began as you looked up behind the camera that faced the scene you had to re-record. He grumbled at that nickname, but still gazed into your eyes. “I have a proposition. How about you start being nice to me.”

The man chuckled, “Never, dipshit.”

“Really? Never?” You walked over to him, not in a manner of urgency. You stood inches away from him so that he could feel your breath on him. He didn’t back away from you, but he stared at you in confusion. “I think you’ll have to be,” your hand placing itself softly on his bicep. The sudden touch caused him to clench. 

“Listen up Bakugo, I have something on you. You see this?” You raised your phone up, the video playing on high volume. That man’s cheeks reddened as he reached for your phone immediately, his moans filling the once-quiet room. Moving it away, you paused it and turned your phone off. “You accidentally sent this to me last night.” You giggled to yourself, Bakugo’s gaze never leaving yours. “You have to be nicer to me, got it? I’m tired of dealing with your rude ass.”

Bakugo’s hands rubbed his head, he was internally beating himself up for having sent that by accident. “Shit,” he mumbled.

“I won’t release this video of you being a subby whore, if you just are a little nicer to me,” you smiled.

With a sigh, Bakugo nodded his head. Your smile remained as you walked back to the camera. Waiting for the queue to start recording, you watched as Bakugo’s silent form moved to fix the soda that was too far in the original clip.

“So,” you began, making the room less silent. “What got you into being a sub?” Coughing, Katsuki didn’t look up, he continued to perfect the scene. 

“If I don’t answer, will you release the video?” 

You sighed, “No. I’m just curious. When I got the video, I was surprised you were into that stuff. Like THE Katsuki into having a dildo in his ass begging for his mistress to ‘put it in deeper’,” you started to laugh. Bakugo walked over to you, his stature staggering over yours.

“Enough,” he demanded; but you only stepped closer to him, your bodies touching, your chest puffed higher than his. “Or what? I don’t think you have any authority here.” His head twitched faintly, he knew that you had all the power over him. He sighed and stepped back, you smirked.

With your arms folded under your breast, you felt powerful. “Now, let's continue filming.” The room went quiet as he walked back into place. “Say, ‘yes Y/N’,” you demanded. 

“Yes, Y/N,” he reluctantly let out.

. . .

You were home, laughing to yourself about the day you had with Bakugo. No bickering, no arguing. It was extremely peaceful. Deep down inside, you were having an extremely fun time. 

That being said… You had a kinky side to you, a dominant side that you never told your friends about, except one. 

*KNOCK*KNOCK*

“Yay, Mina’s here,” you cheered as you ran to the door. Opening it, you were engulfed in a hug.

“Y/N, oh how I’ve missed you! How are you?” You closed the door behind your dearest friend and walked over to your kitchen island. 

“I’m doing really well actually.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, “I haven’t seen you like this in a while. Catch me up!”

Giggling to yourself, “Y’know that work guy I’m always fuming about?”

“Yeah, shithead.”

“I found out something about him…”

“Like what?”

“He’s a sub.”

Mina’s eyes widened, “How do y’know that?”

“He accidentally sent me an email with a video of him getting domed.” Your friend’s jaw fell, her head leaning forward. 

“No, fucking, way.” You nodded to her disbelief. “What are you doing about it?”

“Blackmailing him to be nice to me,” you chuckled nervously.

“Bruh, no way,” she started to laugh. “Is that all you're gonna do? Leaving it to that?” You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. I know how sadistic you are. This is just fuel to the fire. You have to be planning something...”

“Come on, Mina. Give me some credit here. He’s such an asshole when we’re at work. I’m just leaving it to that. He’s a colleague and that’s all.”

“So we’re just not going to talk about the drunken sexts you’ve both sent each other before. Drunk words are sober thoughts, y’know.” You probably shouldn't have admitted that to her.

“That was a ONE TIME thing, I told you this.”

“Sure, sure,” she reassured sarcastically. 

. . .

Mina had left. She was the only person closest to you that knew about your dominant side. She’d experienced it firsthand when you attended your first sex party a few years ago. You guys grew close and had a lot of playtime with other people together. Walking into your room, she sent you an invitation to an event that was going on over the weekend. 

Closing your phone and making your way to your bedroom, you could only think about what she said. She knew you too well, you wanted more. You couldn’t just see Bakugo like that and not experience it. You always found the blond attractive, especially the first day meeting him at your shared job. The attitude was just the thing that pushed you away from that. There were moments, however, you wanted to dom him so hard that his attitude was knocked right out of him. You kept that to yourself though. Sighing to yourself, you left these unresolved plans to be dealt with another day. 

. . .

Wednesday:

“Hey Y/N, what’s been up with you and Katsuki?” Todorki asked as he sipped his coffee beside you during lunch.

“What do you mean?”

“You guys have been so cordial to each other. It’s odd.”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s been waking up on the right side of the bed the past few days.”

The split-haired man nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich, “Y’know I’m always here to look out for you.” 

“Thank you, Shoto. But, you don’t have to worry.” Todoroki was always sweet to you, he was a kind soul. He was always silent and you wondered if he was introverted when you first met him, but he was just reserved. “Were you able to review our video?”

“Yeah. I left some comments on it and a few ways to revise it, but overall. You both did well like you always do.” You grinned as you took a bite out of your brunch. 

After finishing up, you walked over to Katsuki who was eating at his desk. “Katsuki, I need to speak to you privately about the video,” you emitted as you stood over his desk.

“Don’t you see I’m eating bird bra-” you flicked the side of his head. “Ouch!” He rubbed the skin where you flicked him. 

You looked around to see if there was anyone in the office. There was no one nearby, so you lowered yourself to his ear, “Did you forget the rules to this?”

He furrowed his brows, “We haven’t established proper rules actually.”

Your head curved to link your eyes, “You already know you have to be nice to me.”

“What if that was me being nice?”

Tired of his bratty attitude, you check one more time, still no one around, so you grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into the empty studio you were previously recording in. Once the door was locked, you sat him on the floor. “Y/N, what the fuck!?”

“I’ll teach you the rules right now,” you placed your finger underneath his chin, moving his head up to look at you. “You have to be nice to me. No cursing, no calling me names. I’m Y/N to you.” His nose scrunched as he looked away from you. You turned his head, forcing eye contact.

“Y’know what…” Bakugo looked at you, wondering what you were going to say next. “If you misbehave, I’ll punish you.” 

For a moment, Bakugo felt the tip of his dick twitch. The sound of you punishing him only brought him excitement, but he wouldn't show it. Yes, he was being blackmailed at the very moment, but he knew you. You both have been working in the same company for a few years. Even though you both presumably hate each other, there was trust to be had. It’s not like he was being blackmailed by a stranger, it was you, a frenemy.

Losing himself to his thoughts: he imagined himself rubbing his cheek along your shin, looking up at you with his pouting gaze. That thought left his mind when you snapped your finger in his face. 

“Yes Y/N. I’m sorry,” he blurted. 

You flushed internally at what he said, but you only then walked out of the room. 

. . .

The day soon came to an end, so you went home. As you lay in your bed, you thought about what you said. You hadn’t planned it at all, but the whole punishing thing was something you truly wanted to explore. As you drifted off to sleep, you hoped that tomorrow he’d give you something to punish him for. 

[lu-undy]

Another sniperspy hc! Hope you lije this one too! (if u wanna write it ofc dont wanna pressure u!). Spy has anxiety, a little, but still has it; and it mostly shows when he is touchstarved. He gets nervous and a little overwhelmed but he hides it trying to play it cool. He stays in his room in the ceasefires all alone but that just makes things worse. He needs cuddles, but he'll neer admit it, never asks for them. And it gets worse. And Spy breaks, just a little, but Snipes notices and helps❤️🐑

Here we go! Sorry about the delay, I have to juggle with work and my long fic at the same time. I hope you’ll like it :)

"Oh, Scout, please, go fuck yourself." 

The young man insisted. 

"Spy, c'mon man, you-"

"I said: go fuck yourself."

"You can't just say that?!"

Spy was in his room. All the lights were off, only the dancing flames of the fireplace lit his smoking room. The Frenchman was sitting on his armchair, a glass of wine in his hand and an annoyed look on his face. 

"Scout if you stand behind my door one more second, I will push every single blade I have into you, in places where you couldn't possibly pull them out." 

He answered, his teeth gritted and his jaw clenched angrily. 

"Jeez, fine…!" 

The Frenchman was pissed off. He had played his part very poorly that day and even though his colleagues respected him enough to not mention it, he could see it in their eyes. He had disappointed them, and he could hardly look at himself in the mirror for it. 

There was one pair of eyes that was stuck in his mind. Those lagoon blue eyes had dwelled on him for the entire duration of his dinner, they had spoken louder thatn any voice.

What Spy needed was red wine, a strong, almost bitter château. Ah, some cheap Spanish one would do. There were very few occasions the Frenchman would betray his country: when he needed the alcohol to sting his soul from the inside was one of them. He just needed something to hurt him physically, something that transferred the pain from his soul to somewhere he could point at, on his body. 

Spy emptied the glass and poured more, grunting. The strong sourness hurt the back of his throat. Good. He threw his gloves away and undid his tie. It flew straight to the floor. He had removed his jacket and his vest and was now undoing the first couple of buttons on his shirt. 

The Frenchman was sitting on the edge of his armchair, his elbows planted on his thighs and his head hanging low. He wasn't proud of himself and he didn't have the energy to pretend that he was in front of his colleagues, so his isolation in the deafening silence and darkness of his lonely room was the best course of action. 

He put a hand on his face and let it sink from his brow down to his chin. A knock interrupted him. 

"Scout, no respawn will fix what I am about to do to you." He said angrily.

"It's not Scout." A muffled voice answered across the door. 

"Leave me alone." He answered, as if he didn't know who it was, as if he hadn't recognised that voice. 

"C'mon, open the door."

"Non, go away."

"I won't." 

Spy heard a thud and rolled his eyes. He knew the man behind that door could be awfully patient. He could picture him, sat down on the Frenchman's doormat, his back against the wall. That was the thud, he had dropped himself on the other side of the door with the knife symbol. And Spy knew he could wait there for hours.

"I am not up for games. Go back to your van." 

"Neither am I. I didn't come to play anythin' with you." 

Silence fell. Spy wondered while his visitor pulled his hat in front of his face to block the light from the corridor and rest his eyes more comfortably. He had all his time. He knew his own patience could match Spy's ego. So he waited, sat there, like a homeless man would find shelter under the front facade of a shop when it rains. He waited, his eyes closed and his hat on his eyes.

The man with the absurdly long legs let them flow in front of him. He didn't know how long he had been waiting but the base had gone totally silent. The light in the corridor had switched off a long time ago now. 

Inside the room, the Frenchman had stopped drinking since his visitor had sat there. 

Spy grumbled and stood up. He went to the door, making sure that his footsteps could be heard. The visitor opened his eyes and unstuck his back from the door. The footsteps stopped. There was a moment of hesitation before the doorknob twisted and the door opened. 

Spy looked down. 

"Come in. Don't stay sat there."

The man under the hat stood up and straightened his back before entering. Spy quickly shut the door after him. 

"What do you want?" The Frenchman asked. 

"To not let you get pissed alone. And on cheap wine at that…" 

Sniper had gone next to the sofa and took the bottle of wine in his hand to read the label. The Frenchman almost regretted the wine tasting lessons to his colleague.

"This is shite wine, Spy, what's your problem?"

Spy sat on the sofa. 

"None of your concern." 

Sniper sat down next to him.

"Yeah, it's none of anyone's business but yours, you're right. So what is it?"

The Frenchman put his fingers on his temples. Now that they were both facing the flames, Sniper could see him better. He looked disheveled, his shirt open, without a tie and a miserable look on his face. Had it not been for the taylor-made shirt and trousers, the Australian would have looked better dressed.

"I know you did shit today. And I also know it doesn't look like you. You're better than that, I know it and you do too. So what's special about today?"

The Frenchman sighed. 

"Again, none of your concern."

"Is it your birthday or somethin'?"

Spy shot him a murderous glance. He was nowhere near the point where he could appreciate any joke. His icy blue eyes split the dark room sharply, like the sheen of the short blades he liked so much. 

"You don't want to say, eh?"

"Non, I don't."

"So why did you let me in?"

"To not let you rot on my doormat."

"Pfff, even Scout could lie better than that." Sniper answered and it did strike a nerve. The Frenchman clenched his jaw. 

"If you didn't let me in to talk, it's cause you need somethin' else."

Sniper stood up and headed to the small kitchen area in his colleague's flat. 

"Now, I'm gonna make us some herbal tea. It won't make you talk but it'll help your nerves." 

The Australian kept the lights off. He filled a kettle with water and put in on the stove to heat up. When the water boiled, he poured it in 2 mugs and took 2 tea bags out of his pocket. Spy's eyebrows jumped. Those teabags showed that Sniper had prepared himself and hadn't come by chance or politeness. His mind was set to help the bitter Frenchman. 

A minute later, he brought the two mugs. He handed one to his colleague and that's when he realised that Spy wasn't wearing his gloves. Sniper's brow furrowed for a short instant. Observant as he was, Spy saw it. 

They both took a sip. 

"Something's the matter, Sniper?"

"Well that's cheeky. You're the one who has a problem obviously and you ask me if something's the matter?" 

"You frowned. I'm just curious." 

"I'll tell you what made me frown if you tell me what's pissin' you off like that."

Spy sighed. 

"Today is not a good day for personal reasons." He answered. 

"That doesn't tell me anythin', Spook." 

"Well, too bad, I will not disclose more of it." 

And silence fell again, that was only interrupted by their sips. But they soon finished their drink. Sniper leaned back on the sofa. 

"So that's what you do when you're pissed off? Get drunk on shit wine, alone, in the dark?" 

Spy didn't want to react but of course it affected him. He knew he looked miserable and hearing it being said aloud did not help. Sniper sat up and put his hand on Spy's thigh, right above his knee. 

"You're not wearin' yer gloves. That's why I frowned." 

The Frenchman double-checked and yes indeed. He didn't even think about his gloves when he opened the door. It hurt him even more. 

Sniper took Spy's hand in his and opened its palm. 

"Bushman!"

"Oh c'mon, it's only yer hand! I just want to see it better." 

He tilted it such that he could  see it well.

"Y'know I can read the lines there. Wanna know what they say?" 

The Frenchman didn't answer. 

"Well, they say that it doesn't matter if you don't tell me what your problem is." 

Sniper moved closer to his friend. 

"You need someone to help, because you're not making it out of this on yer own. And shit alcohol won't do either." 

Spy raised his eyes to finally look at his colleague with something else in his eyes than blind rage. The way that Sniper traced the lines on his hand, how he delicately handle his palm, it all surprised him. The man lived in a van, in the most rustic way, yet he was holding his hand like he would a delicate flower. The tickling of his index tracing the lines through Spy's palm was almost poetic.  

The Frenchman hid his face with his other hand. 

"Hey…" 

Sniper got even closer. Now their thighs were touching and Spy felt an arm wrap around his back, pulling him to his friend. Without a second thought, he bent on his side and leaned on Sniper's side, his head below the Australian's chin, closing his eyes. 

The marksman got surprised by the suddenness but didn't question it and hugged his friend, lacing his other arm on his left shoulder.

"I don't care why you're annoyed. I just want it to stop. No one wants to see you like that. I watched you during dinner. You were fumin' with rage and you didn't eat much. 's not good."

The vibrations of Sniper's voice travelled through the Frenchman and made his insides relax. There was something about his voice and the embrace. Spy needed more of it. He wrapped his arms around Sniper and buried his head deeper in his friend's chest. He wanted to say something, anything! But the words failed him. 

"So that's what you needed all along? A good hug?" 

Of course, Spy stayed mute. Was his clinging to his friend's polo shirt not enough of an answer? 

But suddenly Spy felt Sniper moving, pulling him. His eyes snapped open as he followed his friend's movements, not really understanding what he was doing. Sniper kept him close all along and soon stopped moving, when he was laying on his back, on the sofa, his feet dangling off of it. Spy was on top of him, his arms still around Sniper's sides and his head below his chin. That way, the Australian couldn't see how hard he was frowning… 

The Frenchman would never admit how much he loved the embrace. And Sniper's hand brushing his back and his other one behind his head... Non, Sniper had understood what Spy needed and wordlessly obliged, without the grumpy one even having to ask. 

There was a blanket on the nearby armchair. The Australian extended his arm and took it. The next thing Spy knew, he was sandwiched between the softness of the duvet and the warmth of Sniper's body.

He squeezed Sniper tighter for an instant. 

"You're welcome. Now, try and get some sleep, will ya?" 

Spy raised his head of his friend's chest and looked him in the eye. 

"Merci." [Thank you.] 

Sniper was looking at him with a smile. He cupped Spy's head and left a silent kiss on his forehead, on the fabric of the mask. Spy's eyes opened wide. With one hand he swiftly removed the mask and threw it away, and ignoring Sniper's total shock, he looked up at him and asked him with his eyes… 

The Australian took a second to process what had just happened and he devoured his friend's face with his eyes. He put his palms on the Frenchman's naked cheeks and slid his fingers up through his hair. Spy closed his eyes, focusing on the touch on his face. He was really just thanking that one man whose patience was infinite with him. 

Sniper pulled him and kissed, not his forehead.

[moonmotels]

38, with Foxxay? Please? 😊

hotel

“Goddamnit,” Cordelia hits the dashboard of her car with a gloved hand, aggravated by the increase of snow in their line of vision. “I can’t see anything, we’ll never make it home at this point.”

Misty turns down the radio to a low hum, crinkling her eyes in displeasure. “Delia, I don’t feel right bein’ out on the roads like this. It’s too dark and snowy.”

Cordelia softens her voice at the sound of Misty’s fearful confession, wanting to make her feel comforted. Safe. Warm. With Misty, she always finds herself softening up around the edges, like she has no singular ounce of capability in making her feel less than loved.

The pair had been on a short road trip across the state in search of a special flora that only grows in the southern most tip of Louisiana. They’d gotten side tracked in the small town all afternoon, stretching their legs after the long car ride in antique stores and flower shops that catered to their every whim. When calling Madison to check on the state of the house, she asked Cordelia what it’s like to be living in a shitty lesbian romcom. It was mostly Cordelia’s fault, but how can you blame her when Misty had asked so sweetly to check out the vintage stores that looked like nobody had been in them since World War 2?

Now, at nearly ten pm, an unexpected snow squall was swirling above their heads like a guillotine, daunting them with danger. Cordelia, taking the lead, pulled off the next exit to a small motel on the side of the road, something that looked straight out of a horror movie. Maybe, she hopes, Misty will defend her against any attackers. Maybe, she also thinks, she’d really enjoy that.

“Is this alright?” she asks quietly, silently hoping there will only be one room with one bed left.

“Yeah, Dee, this is fine. Would rather be in here than out in that crazy storm,” Misty replies. “I could use a warm shower too. Feels icky after touchin’ old people stuff all day.”

“You dragged me in there,” Cordelia teases, but neglects to mention that Misty could pull her anywhere.

At the front desk, a kind old woman with reader glasses greets them warmly. “Trying to stay warm tonight, ladies?”

“You betcha,” Misty answers, too busy examining the vending machine to properly turn and greet the woman.

“Two rooms, or one?” she asks. Cordelia goes to open her mouth and reply ‘two,’ when Misty, still deciding what to eat, answers, “One is fine.”

The woman nods, clicking something on her computer that looks about as ancient as the junk they’d browsed earlier. “And would that be one king bed or two doubles? I don’t judge these days,” she laughs, and Cordelia all but steps outside to let herself get swept away by the strong winds.

Before Misty can answer this one, she replies, “Two doubles are fine.” She spares a glance at Misty’s reflection in the glass of the snack machine, but if that bothers Misty, she keeps her face neutral.

After being handed the key, Cordelia helps Misty carry her snacks that could feed an army down the short hallway. Inside the room, she kicks off her shoes and sighs in content, wanting nothing more than to melt into the mattress and forget she’s stuck here. Alone. With the woman she may possibly be in love with.

Misty drops her food on the bed and retreats towards the bathroom, calling, “I’m takin’ a shower, you wanna call Queenie and tell her she’s in charge tonight? Bet Maddie’s fumin’ we never let her watch over the house.”

Cordelia had all but forgotten their life and friends at home, too caught up in the whiffs of jasmine and sunflowers that passed as Misty breezed by. She blinks herself from a daze and answers, “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Settling into the uncomfortable mattress, Cordelia tries to pretend she’s fine, especially so when Misty comes back from her shower dressed in less clothes. Specifically no bra and skirt. Just the cropped sweater she’d been in earlier. A dozen explicit scenarios run through Cordelia’s mind, but she keeps herself level headed and pretends to be interested in the game of Candy Crush on her phone.

When Misty crawls under the covers on her bed, Cordelia finds the courage to ask, “Comfy over there?” Misty bites her bottom lip, drags it between teeth for a second before responding, “Bed’s big enough for two. Feels awful lonely over here.”

The air grows thin. Cordelia finds herself standing on wobbly legs and walking over to her bed, where Misty immediately pulls the covers back and pats the space gently. The bed creaks and groans with her added weight, as if welcoming her home in some fucked up way. When their legs brush, Cordelia has to bite back a wail.

Misty, unaffected as always, asks, “Whatcha wanna watch? We have ‘I Love Lucy’ or the channel that plays Bible sermons on loop.”

Cordelia snorts, cracking open her bag of vending machine popcorn. “Call me crazy, but I’m feeling a little wild. Let’s watch Lucy.”

Misty would call Cordelia a lot of things, specifically beautiful, important, and lovely, but not crazy. Definitely not crazy. Feeling a touch wild herself, she slides one of her legs between Cordelia’s and makes herself comfortable with her head on Cordelia’s inviting shoulder. She breathes out a sigh of content, feeling at peace for the first time all night.

She hears her name called softly, causing her to look up at Cordelia’s ever-radiant face. “Misty, do you,” Cordelia clears her throat, looks like she’s going to say something important. Instead, she continues, “did you want to split the honey bun?”

“Oh.” Misty glances down at the glazed pastry in Cordelia’s lap and shakes her head no. “Nah, it’s all yours.”

Cordelia looks pained for a brief second before remembering how well she wears her emotions. She’s back to her usual self in no time, flicking through the channels in search of better entertainment. Two more seconds of sharing a bed with Misty and she may explode, needing the distraction of something to keep her emotions tucked away behind the glass case of her heart.

Misty, unfortunately, seems tired of beating around this bush. She takes the remote from Cordelia and flicks the screen off, leaving them to stare at their reflections in the dark screen. More specifically, Cordelia watches Misty carefully set the remote on the nightstand before leaning over and taking her face between palms. At the life-changing eye contact, Misty whispers, “Tell me if this isn’t alright,” before pressing her lips gently to Cordelia’s.

And no, it’s not alright, because now Cordelia will never want to do anything else. Would much rather spend out the rest of her days doing this; having her mouth on Misty’s, her fingertips dug in the soft flesh of her shoulders, listening to the soft gasps that Misty is making that has her head absolutely spinning. She tells Misty this, whispers that everything feels so right with her, and Misty happily accepts it as fact.

As the snow falls around the four walls of their room and creates a blanket of serenity around them, Cordelia allows herself to fall deeper in love. Just a little. Just for the night.

[ts-2020-olympics]

EPISODE 3 - “Am I Old?” - Sarah

So far Shosha and Yujo haven’t lost any challenges, if we keep winning until the swap  i fear that the other tribes will target our people because we’re all still intact. Maybe it would be a good thing to maybe lose one? I dunno

ちくしょう 😉

FUCK the hosts for this how many hours can you put in challenge this early in the game, i'm literally fucking pissed, FUMIN love! i knew we were gonna lose from early on but i still put in the time and hours to distract myself from this bitch ass boy who curved me yesterday night, whatever. i'm just so exhausted like of the constant losing, the tribal council, ugh. i haven't been on a losing tribe like this in SO long. and i'm so.. over it. i can't stand losing and i can't stand that emma is immune right now because deciding who to vote off is going to be impossible and people are going to be coming for me so i'm like, probably most definitely gone or whatever. and that means i'm going to have to do the arena challenge and NOT have a day off which... ugh....... dont get me wrong i know that ORGs are time commitments but usually i win the premerge challenges so THIS IS NEW OKAy kdhfnsdkfndkfndf. i'm just annoyed and i'm so over my tribe... and i didn't find any advantages at the olympic village i finally remembered to search in. anyway i dont even wanna THINK about tribal rn so this is just me saying fuck this challenge and ughhh i'm so TIRED just so fatigued of everything, i'll like come back tmrw and strategize or something. *throws a rock at the cameraman* fuck this shit i'm out, give me the osake RIGHT! GOD DAMN! NOW! (alcohol for all you non duolingo-ers)

i'm kinda happy that bailey was evacuated from the game, she would have been voted out regardless and this gives our tribe better odds at survival. even if we had gone to tribal i would've been comfortable, but now i feel like it's better than i try to prove my value as a player by competing in the arena! kinda excited.

tribal three times in a row check! 😍✨💋 LMAO no one is wanting to actually talk to me about it so i’m hoping that i can still sway the votes in my favor but we’ll see! i think landen would defiantly do his best to help keep me from going, but it’s all a matter of who would we send instead. so! we’ll see! at least i can say i did my best 

So, for starters, the past round went pretty much as expected.  Kathy was the vote off from my tribe, and she lost at the arena, as well, past round I found nothing yet again at the village.   Now, right now in terms of this round, my tribe didn't win immunity, but Bailey ended up getting medically evacuated due to getting three inactivity strikes, so the tribal got cancelled for my tribe, and Beck ended up volunteering to do the arena.  So basically, just awaiting to search Olympic Village again, and hoping to goodness there is a tribe swap next round, since right now my tribe is just my alliance with Ben and Beck, which will make things rough come another loss with no swap.

yep worst case scenario happened. My tribe lost with me sitting out and Will, my one main ally, not showing up to the challenge at all!! I was hoping it could be an easy vote so i didn’t have to vote and I could get the advantage but now it seems like my tribe is ready to boot Will and if I want that advantage I need two of those other three to vote against each other! God this is gonna be hard... 

I’m in a tough predicament here. I could either A. play it safe, agree with everyone to vote will or B. try to save my ally and my advantage at the same time by getting Sarah and Eve to vote out Nik, risking my whole game. Godddd I don’t know!! aaaagh! 

it's 10am, tribal is in 10 hours, and i've had about 10 separate heart attacks throughout the morning. i don't know what to do tonight. i'm really struggling to figure out what's right. my heart says jacob, that's definitely where i'm leaning. juls is my closest ally at this point, and after the whole debacle with Billy, voting him out, then instantly starting to bond with him and all that, and apologizing, and him sticking by me even after I voted him out first, I would feel terrible voting for him again and I want us to prove to eachother we can trust eachother. but the fact he said juls' name.. if that's who he's going to go for, i simply can't prove to him i will vote with him. i'm tight with juls, she saved me even over emma, and i just really feel a bond with her. we're both the youngest in this cast, we both have lots in common, it really do feel like we're the same person at times. at the same time, my head tells me jacob is good in challenges, and will be ok in arena, but that i really don't need a 3rd person upset at me for going to the arena, and if Emma is still coming after me, she could probably use me coming for Jacob to her advantage, but I don't even know where she's voting or what she's thinking. i'm torn about this vote, and it's all the more annoying that if emma just hadn't fucked up at the last challenge, we wouldn't be here without someone to vote right now. we'd all be able to agree on emma or jacob probably, and it would just... it would still suck complete ass, but it wouldn't be as complicated as it is now. with a tribe as tiny as 5 people, going to tribal THREE times, with all the same 5 people.. it's just not something we can afford. our tribe is being torn apart and... whew, i just need the swap. give it to me rn. as of now, i'm thinking i'm going to vote jacob, and i hope i can get billy on board for that and take his mind off juls. that's where my head is at right now... tribal is making me sick to my stomach

What the f does I stan you even mean? Am I old? And I no longer hip and down with the lingo? Bogus, man...

Our first tribal is tonight... I hate to say it, but I'm voting for Will. Nobody has heard from him in days, or for the last challenge, and tonight will be a second strike if he doesn't come back for tribal. WILL I'M SORRY. I definitely would not have voted him otherwise, he did great on the other challenges and is a great personality to have around. Come back for the next season Will.. 

I am the swing vote again lol Juls got blamed for messing up last vote by Emma and Billy, which considering Juls is beloved by everyone, PERFECT But now since we lost I need to pick a side, Landen and Juls or Emma and Billy. I like Emma, Billy sketches me out. Landen is the perfect meat shield for eternity. He's a bit of a blabbermouth. I watched the tapes of the live tribal, he sold me out unknowingly in front of Billy. How am I supposed to both sides these people now!? I could get sold onto a Landen vote, but that's not being sold, so WELL, who do I screw over. I feel so bad voting out Juls, but that's a reason to vote her out too, gah. GAH. Do I pick a side and lowkey goat, or do I make my control of the tribe forefront (but not evident because everyone hates each other) Time will tell. 1 Hour until tribal, and I have no idea what to do. inb4 voted out

why the FUCK does emma have immunity? she's literally so useless and does nothing in challenges... and the fact she already turned on juls, this quick, over practically nothing? im sick to my stomach, love. i know i said that already, but you know what? I must have the flu, because my nausea is neverending with this tribe and our constant spins at tribal council. as emma once said, we're basically taking turns sending people to the hellish arena. but the twist is so complex because you can't send someone you like there, because there IS always the very real chance that they lose the challenge. going there could be a good risk if you're smart with it, but it could be a risk that puts your entire game in jeopardy and i'm a KNOWN safe player when it comes to game mechanics ^_^ the only risks i take are in emotional labor! speaking of, myself and juls have both been working very hard to keep her safe from billy and emma's focused target on her, but i don't see it happening.. Billy and em seem to be tight now and it seems like they've convinced jacob to take out juls. The really horrible thing about all this, is that if i want to save juls.... i'm likely going to have to vote billy. and that is going to be aching, because i really like the guy, and i was being 100% honest and genuine with him saying i wanted to be on his side, to prove to him i have his trust and that i will be loyal to him and want to work with him til the endgame and be his ally. but if he's going to go against juls and i have to choose between the two of them..... i mean, i can't choose billy. it would be bad. so there's 30 minutes left and i don't have a clear idea of what's happening yet and any choice i make will permanently damage a tight connection that I thought I had heading into the later game. I guess in good news, Sammy, Caeleb, and a new friend, Jordan, ALL messaged me saying good luck at tribal, and talking to me a bit about it, saying they hope I'm safe. Forming those cross tribal bonds could be crucial in surviving the next stage of the game, which, god please, is happening VERY soon... *i bind myself to the cross* Give me strength to get through this, Japan. Onegaishimasu.

So far the game is makin  me p sad, I’m super tired of going to tribal and having to send people to arena. And that Japanese challenge was so damn frustrating 

so tribal last night.... i mean, uh, i guess my power, huh? lmao........... MESS!!! IM A MESS MY GAME IS A MESS THIS WHOLE DAMN THING IS A MESS. Someone get me a MOP rn because Sonkei-Matsing tribe is STRUGGLING and it's all EMMA'S FAULT!!!!! On the other hand, I'm very grateful Emma is an idiot, because Billy got to be safe!!! So let me explain what happened in that bonkers tribal council, from MY perspective... When I heard that my closest ally Juls had her name coming up, i was like, oh HELL. NO. So I put in the WORK to get Jacob and Billy to vote for eachother. Don't get me wrong, Juls worked hella hard on this too, she is a bad ass bitch and she deserves credit. But I do believe I was a major factor in swaying their votes as well as I'd built pretty close relationships with each of them in terms of strategy. But with Billy, that relationship wasn't a tight trusting one, more of a, please, I like you a lot, let me prove to you that I can be trusted and we can work together. Let us prove that to eachother. But here's how it happened. Even though Jacob and Billy DID vote for eachother... NEITHER OF THEM TOLD ME THEY WERE VOTING FOR EACH-OTHER. BILLY LED ME TO BELIEVE HE WAS VOTING JULS THE WHOLEEEEE TIME. And initially, I was fine with it, and i was STILL going to vote Jacob off with Juls!! Thinking there was nothing I could do and she would go 3-2. But then, 5 minutes into tribal, you'll see me furiously typing... Because Jacob FINALLY told me he was going to vote for Billy (and that's on Whispering!!! #LiveTribal!!) So from my perspective.... Billy and Emma are voting Juls. Juls is voting Jacob. Jacob is voting Billy. It's 2-1-1... and if I vote for Jacob, then Jacob and Juls can't vote, and Billy and Emma have the majority to send Juls out, saving Jacob on the revote. BUT if I vote for Billy, then Billy and Juls can't vote, and now me and Jacob have the majority over Emma. That was the thought process behind my initial vote for Billy. LITTLE DID I KNOW BILLY ACTUALLY WAS VOTING WITH ME AND NOW I FEEL HORRIBLE FOR VOTING FOR HIM AND I JUST WANT TO MAKE IT UP TO HIM BUT HE DIDN'T TEXT ME WHEN HE GOT OFF AND UGH, I NEED TO MAKE THIS RIGHT!!!! Emotional labor is the most annoying thing, and I'm really bad it. I'm terrible at apologizing and owning up to things, maybe that's why I just let my friendships fall apart in real life instead of doing the actual work to save them once a problem happens. because emotional labor is fucking annoying, exhausting, and stressful! I don't got time for it! But now, I need to have time for it, because our tribes are FIVE PEOPLE strong, and at the next tribal council, if I don't get my relationship with Billy in check, I WILL be gone. It is his vote that I need to help make sure Emma's psycho ass goes home, and if he, Jacob, and Emma all think they're on the bottom... Yikes. I hope Billy understands that I was absolutely disgusted it came down to him or Juls and I thought I was doing everything I could to save an ally.. I even swayed Juls to help save him with me, when she felt uncomfortable with him. He totally screwed up by like... not telling me he was voting with me, he said in tribal people just need to be real with where they're voting, and I agree! I wish he had just followed his own advice with me, because he would still be here right now. But his screw up does not at all compare to Emma... what the FUCK was she thinking, self-voting like that...? Like, HELLO? She throws out Juls' name all round, for I don't even know WHAT reason, since they were supposedly close, but it's implied she throws out Juls' name for getting 4 crowns on the challenge... Um, YOU STUPID BITCH YOU LITERALLY ONLY GOT ONE MORE CROWN THAN HER AND BEFORE THAT DID NOTHING ON THE SLIDE PUZZLE CHALLENGE OR THE TRIBE CHANT, DESPITE US KNOWING YOU CAN PUT IN THE TIME WHEN YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT IN THE ARENA :) Headass.... Then, after doing that all round, she SELF-VOTES??? WITH IMMUNITY AROUND HER NECK??? Girl you MUST be crazy, cus this is psychotic. Headass, deadass, she is gone the next time we lose tribal, which, lbr, is probably next time because we're LIT RALLY matsing. at least caeleb thinks i'm denise though. i feel like i have the same amount of wrinkles as her, after the stress of this game like 3 rounds in. imagine how tired i am.  

Round 3's over! That's fun, innit? Glad we got rid of some dead weight in Bailey. As for friendships and alliances, I'm still slightly on edge about Darcy - I trust Beck over him. Got acquainted with Karen - they seem nice, but I'll keep an eye on them, too. Other than that, Nicole and Tommy are the people I'm mainly corresponding with. Seems like fun! :) Here's to a fun Round 4!

Okay so we won this round which is fun! Tommy went to the arena which gives me, Karen and Kevin a good chance to bond because Stoner just isn’t paying attention ever. I wonder if he has even made a confessional. Anyway, I’m going to be real annoyed if we lose and he whips out an idol. Also going to be mad if after this round there’s a swap and I’m swapfucked. I don’t think it really COULD happen to me though, because I’ve talked to at least one newbie on each of the tribes. Unless I’m stuck with Nik, Emma and Billy who have no interest in speaking to me, I think I’ll be fine. Speaking of newbies, I find myself talking to Ben a lot but I’m under the impression he talks to a lot of people. He reminds me of a lot of friendly pure men in this community like Joey, just very social and very nice! The only thing is sometimes he will say something in a conversation and I don’t necessarily know where to go with it. For example right now he’s having a full conversation with me in the village chat about pizza. I don’t know what to do with this and rather not be so vocal in the village chat. While the other newbies are increasingly hard to talk to, and sitting around all day waiting for the arena stuff is boring, Ben is a very nice person to talk to but I just wish we would talk like...about the game not what I’m eating. When it comes down to it I want to know I have an ally or two to bring to the end that might offset my immediate threat of being a winner, but not give them so much power that they win over jury votes. He seems to be showing his social side and not giving me any game info at the same time, which I have to look out for. All of the other newbies I’ve spoken to have talked game. He’s either playing a really good game by doing this or a really transparent one, I can’t tell yet. We will have to see! 

Last night proved something that I’ve been wondering about Landen for a while. He truly is a snake. I unintentionally made a really good move in keeping it mysterious on who I was voting. In order to make the vote go his way and to keep Juls, he instead changed the vote to ME and got Jacob to do the same. Sneaky mother fucker 😋 thank god Juls stayed the same though. I know for an absolute fact now that I won’t be able to trust him. As for Jacob, I do hope he comes back, because now that I know where the tribe stands I know I can get him on my side.

I don't know if I ever had such a frustrating round for challenges first duolingo and now the arena I was in the lead in front of everyone until the last clue and I lost it all I didn't get a medal. I'm so pissed, you really don't wanna @ me anytime soon because I'm at the point where I wanna go off on someone. 

Love the tribe, so happy we 5-0d the last tribal!! it was a cute moment!! hehe, we seem to be very together as a unit

So Will’s gone, well he’s at the arena but i think he died so he’s probably out for good. Now that he’s out that leaves me on the bottom of my tribe as the next to go, my only hope is getting as close to sarah as I can and crossing my fingers for a swap! Due to that triple tribal I think it’s going to happen next... hopefully! 

Ughh i keep forgetting to make confessionals until right before the round ends so im always like oh shit and then dont really know what im gonna talk about so its not good. hows things in the life of jordan pines? great thanks for asking, while i still feel on the bottom of my tirbe i definitly see a swap coming soon which i think depending on how it goes would be pretty good for me. Id ideally like to stay with most of the people ive been with plus new ones, becuse i think im seen as like an expendable numebr to caeleb and Jacob. I want them to keep thinking of me like this while I go out and start forming stronger relationships, keep bringing in those jordan pines minions, i got my sights set on billy right now, i like him but he makes me look as humble as they come and ive i could definitly turn him into a goat for me with the right coaxing. Im hoping will survives the arena cause hes for sure a number for me, but hes also a lil innactive so maybe he peaced. Im starting to build relationships with Landen who I like. I havent even looked at the all winners tribe holy shit. Karen and Stoner are gonna be my biggest obstacles as they dont necesarily love me. Im gonna try to work with Nicole for a bit if i can tbh. Thats really all im feeling right now. I think best cast scenario is people use me as a number and carry me just a little too far that I can turn shit around and fuck em over. It's definitely gonna be an uphill climb to the finish line, but the only way to do it is go step by step.

I feel like I am in a great position on my tribe! I trust Sarah and Eve a lot. Pete says he has my back so we can only hope that in the case of another tribal council, I will be safe! I’m still going to work my ass off and play my ass off to stay safe and not have to go to another tribal! This game is long and hard and I’m trying to see big picture. And within that big picture is a flashing sign that’s telling me there’s a tribe swap soon! Hopefully I’ll be able to work some magic and avoid being on a tribe with individuals that don’t like me. But overall I’m feeling pretty good after the last tribal!

[saku091]

New Prince of Tennis 249 spoiler pics

TRANSLATION COMPLETE (only japanese).

Courtesy Weibo

1 page: A few minutes ago... The fate of the lack of direction Sakuno: Eh..the direction

2 page:

3 page: Sakuno: Ry- Ryoma kun

Ryoma: What are you doing here, Ryuzaki?

Sakuno: I just thought of going to support the japanese team

Ryoma: You’re still the same lost child aren’t you

Sakuno: uuh...

4 page:

5 page: Just stay behind

Sakuno: y-yes!

6 page:

7 page: 

8 page: I’m the prince you insolent!

9 page:  I can’t help but practicing (?)*

10 page: Ryoma: Ah...Thanks

French Prince: I wasn’t helping you

11 page: French prince: it was that girl...

Sakuno: EHHHH!!

Ryoma: Let’s go Ryuzaki (they’re holding hands omgomgomg)

French Prince: and what kind of relationship do you have with her?

(Ryoma’s eyes lolololol the realization)

12 page:Ryoma: We’re classmates...(T/N: In japanese it sounds as if they’re not really sure, or that they considerate it something that it’s better not to say, or to read between the lines....Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh how cute)

French Prince: Your name...What is it?

Sakuno: Eh...ummm...It’s Sakuno Ryuzaki

French Prince: Oh... Sakuno (Cherry Blossom, in French is "Cerise" he calls her like that) such a beautiful name

It suits you well

Hey you!

Have you played tennis while riding a horse?

Ryoma: I haven’t done such a thing!

13 page: French Prince: Let’s have a match playing tennis on horseback

Let’s find out who’s more suitable to be Sakuno’s boyfriend (I’mdyingI’mdying)

Ryoma:What’s with that? (HE DOESN’T DENY BEING SAKUNO BF.I CAN’T)

French Prince: Are you afraid of losing...Brat? (chibi haha)

Ryoma: Is not that! It’s just that I don’t have a horse...

(There’s another page that I didn’t post) Fumine Coach: It reminds me...Of those time playing jockey...Right Sumire (You read that right, the horse is called SUMIRE Hahahahaha)

So here’s the translation, sorry if it sounds weird, it’s pretty much rushed, but I wanted to share my joy with all of you! What else...

Ah yeah, there’s another page, where Fumine ask Sakuno if she is “Ryoma’s woman”. Ahhhhhhhh

[zagamalli]

“Black Novacaine” [Part One]

   Arthur shakily pushed off of the muddy ground below, dirt sticking to the ebony fabric of his jeans, and crimson staining his teeth. Blood flowed from the new knife wound that decorated his already scarred chin. “That all you boys got?” He mocked, clutching his arm against the cash in his chest, pulling his own knife out of the sheath, black blade glistening in the light of the fading sun. 

   “Well come on then.” one odriscoll challenged, him and two others quickly approaching Arthur, blades in the grips of all three men. The lead o'driscoll lurched at Arthur, sending him stumbling back, ever so closer to the cliffedge behind. A second man inched closer, swinging the silver blade at the blonde man, only grazing his shirt as Arthur assaulted, the inky blade sinking into the speckled skin of one of the assailants, corpse sinking to the ground below. 

   An arm grappled from behind, wrapping around Arthur's jugular. It's grip tightened more with every passing second, an almond haired o'driscoll raised a knife above his head, forcing it down onto Arthur, the man kicking him back before it made contact with his bloody and bruised skin. Toppling back, he tripped over his feet, landing on a jagged rock that jutted out of the ground, painting the green a brilliant red. Bringing the knife back, Arthur thrusted it into the ribcage of the last o'driscoll, a bowl escaped his lips as he released the grip on Arthur's throat, stumbling off of the cliff face, plummeting to the forest floor below, the shriek piercing Arthur's ears, making his migraine worse than it was.

  He almost felt bad for the man.

  Twisting back the way he came, he spotted the butt of a rifle advancing towards his face, dunked in to darkness before he could react. 

   Agony erupted throughout the front of his skull, head throbbing in sync with his dramatically increased heart beat. "Where-" he groaned barely audible, each raspy breath pulling at the gash that spread on his chest. “Why hello there, Mr. Morgan.” Someone exclaimed, the familiar voice laced with venom. Sluggishly opening his eyes, Arthur noticed a figure in front of him, realization hitting him within seconds. "Hello, Colm." Arthur retorted, mindlessly tugging at the restraints that bound his neck and hands in place against the chilled stone wall he'd been forced to lean against. "I have big plans for you, Arthur," Colm snickered, crouching down to meet Arthur's level, his dull olive eyes brimming with hatred. The same hatred all those people on the streets had. The same hatred his father had after his mother passed from that dreadful disease. 

    "And what would that be?" Arthur challenged, a humorless chuckle filling the silence between the two. "Well now we have you. So when Van Der Linde gets a whiff that he caught his oh so loyal work horse, and comes here all fumin, I'll have the law waiting, getting myself some cash for your pathetic corpses." Colm stated, cackling while stood and sauntered over to the door ascending from the basement.

     "Lucas." He ordered, motioning towards the man trussed up like a hog on the opposite wall. "Yes sir." Lucas complied, quickly stepping over to Arthur. "Sorry." Lucas chuckled, forcing a white rag around Arthur's nose and mouth, retiring to the land above, leaving Arthur alone to stir in the musty basement. 'Whats that smell?' He questioned himself, the sweet scent in his nostrils. Putting two and two together the realization hit him like a brick. Chloroform. 'Shit' he thought, trying to shake the rag off of his head, yet to no avail. Movements soon became sluggish, vision fading as he lulled off to sleep. 

   Smells of freshly cooked meats and vegetables wafted throughout the camp, various family members laughing at the wooden tables and campfires littered through the camp. Joy spread feverishly quick through the warm air, leaves from the nearby oak trees speckeling the royal blue and pearl colored sky. Arthur scanned the makeshift campground for leftover chores to work on. Split and splintered wood lay near the axe, maize already at Pearson's makeshift kitchen. 

    "Guess not." He mumbled to no one in particular, mostly himself. Spotting Lenny over by a table, leaned up against a wooden barrel, he figured he'd talk to him, it hasn't been long since that night in Valentine, but that doesn't mean he could remember it. Strolling over, he'd noticed Micah sauntering over as well, a smirk plastered upon his face. 

   "Hey, darkie." Micah taunted, idoling beside Lenny. "What you want, Micah?" The younger boy retorted, annoyance already coating his voice. "I found someone in Valentine looking for some… helpers." Micah mocked, the smirk growing even more. "Get the hell away from me." The younger one said, anger dripping from his tone. "The hell you just say to me, boy?" Micah growled, grabbing Lenny by his throat, hoisting him off the grass below.

    Hooking the collar of Micah's shirt, Arthur tore him off Lenny, sending him stumbling backwards. "Stay the hell away from him." Arthur snarled, moving between Micah and Lenny. "Come on then, cowpoke." Micah challenged, a knife emerging from the sheath on his side, charging at the other man, Micah's weight slamming against Arthur as it knocked Arthur off balance, swiftly regaining footing as he swung at Micah, a crack erupting as a fist connected with his already crooked nose. “You bastard.” Micah snarled, swinging the knife at Arthur's chest, a bloody gash in its wake. A yelp escaped Arthur's lips, blood dripping down from the parted skin. 

   "Come on, you son of a bitch." Arthur taunted, malice and rancor dripping from his words. Micah lunged towards Arthur again, hand gripping on to the handle of the crimson covered blade. Dodging to the side, Micah crashed into the side of the wooden table, wood splintering, embedding itself within Micah's arm. Seizing ahold of Micah's arm, Arthur hastily thrusted his elbow onto it, the sickening crack of bone mixed with Micah's shriek. 

  A hand latched onto Arthur's shoulder, twisting him to face a fuming Dutch, face vived red from ear to ear with exasperation. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Dutch shouted, veins popping out of his neck, ignorant to the blood seeping through the fabric of the faded blue shirt. "Christ, Dutch, he tried to stab me!" Arthur exclaimed, trying to defend himself to his own father. Was Dutch really going to defend Micah over his own son? "He was defending himself!" Dutch screamed, getting closer to Arthur with every word. "And if you ever pull that shit again, I'll break your goddamn arm myself." He'd finally said, dangerously quiet.

   For a second Arthur saw Lyle, the same threat coming out of Dutch's mouth as Lyle's when he caught Arthur stealing foot from the cupboard. Anger proceeded to bubble over, "Go to hell." Arthur snarled, immediately regretting the words the second they left his mouth. Disbelief flashed in Dutch's eyes, quickly changing to fury. "What did you just say to me, boy?" The older man gnarled, "You fucking heard me." Arthur snapped, limping over to Fenrir, ears perked curiously at all of the commotion. 

  A hand rested on Arthur's forearm, feeling strangely numb and distant. "Mr. Morgan-" "I'm fine." Arthur interjected. "You're bleeding," "Goddamnit, I'm fine." He snapped, clutching his arm to his chest, struggling to mount the friesian, turning the reigns to the outskirts of camp. "If you're going to keep acting like a damn child, don't come back!" Dutch shouted, Arthur desperately clinging to consciousness, the sound of Dutch's yelling drowned out by the pounding in his ears.  

[rainythefox]

Oh, Brother (RDR2 Fanfic CH.5/Final Chapter)

Synopsis: 1885, Illinois. A young Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur wander into a country town following a lead to swindle a wealthy homestead and break their control over the town. But while scoping it out, Arthur encounters a young John Marston, setting fate in motion that will eventually become a rocky, yet loyal brotherhood. A short multi-chapter story revolving around how Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur met John. (Rated T for violence and swearing) (Mostly Adventure/Friendship/Humor)

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AO3 Link

Chapter 5

Six months later...

"Relax."

The breath that came from John's lips was shaky. Arthur reached out and cupped a hand over the drawn revolver that quivered in John's fingers. He steadied the boy, looking down the range where the bottles sat atop the fence.

"Keep steady now. The key is to breathe in and then release it slowly and pull the trigger. Don't anticipate the kick, or you'll always miss your mark. You gotta get used to it."

Arthur stepped back, allowing John some space. John stared down the bottles with a determined gleam in his eye. He fidgeted on his feet, arm extended out with the revolver.

Arthur smacked the boy upside the head.

"Ow!"

"Steady, I said, boy!"

John focused again, letting a breath slip from his lips. He pulled the trigger. The revolver went off, a loud bang to their ears, the kickback tossing John's arms up.

All bottles remained unscathed. John growled in frustration.

"I killed a man with one of these things but now I ain't got the nerve to shoot a bottle."

Arthur chuckled. "That was luck back then. And luck's nice to have, but it ain't always gonna save you. You got plenty of nerve, kid. It's confidence you lack. Here."

Arthur picked his hat off his head and plopped it on John's head, grinding it down on his scalp and getting a small giggle out of the thin boy.

Arthur wasn't sure why, but John liked his hat, even still after running with them for six months. He never gave a reason to Arthur on why, but he guessed it didn't really matter. He'd let John wear it time to time, and it gave the boy a boost of confidence needed in his teachings.

"Now, let's try again. Spread your feet a bit further apart. There ya go. Aim with a steady hand."

Arthur fixed how John held his arms out with the gun aimed.

"Good. Now remember the breathin'. Don't anticipate the kick. Shoot that green bottle now. Go on. You can do it."

John sucked in a deep breath and released it. He pulled the trigger and the shot rang out across the valley. The green bottle shattered on the fence.

John's mouth opened wide with a grin as he jumped in victory. "Yes! I did it, did you see it, Arthur?!"

Arthur walked over and patted him on the back. "Damn kid, good shot! You keep that up, you'll be shootin' better than me."

John laughed. "I wish. There's no way I can shoot like you or Dutch. And I don't even wanna think 'bout tryin' to beat Hosea. You're the fastest I've seen with a six shooter and I saw Dutch shoot a bird out of the sky through the trees with his revolver. And Hosea hit a deer in the eye on a runnin' horse with his rifle."

Arthur took back his hat, ruffling the boy's hair. "Hosea will probably outshoot us well after he's old 'n gray."

"Probably."

Arthur nodded his head towards the grazing horses. "C'mon. I reckon we better get back to camp and skin that pronghorn or we'll be goin' hungry tonight. Besides, you got more lessons comin' up."

John groaned. "What's so important about readin' and writin' anyway?"

They mounted their horses and started back towards camp. John guided his horse to canter alongside Arthur's horse, where their freshly killed pronghorn was stowed.

The Wyoming valley extended in rolling, grassy hills around them within clusters of trees and surrounding mountains. The sun was high with not a cloud in sight, but the wind nipped hard on their skin, warning of coming winter.

Arthur took a drink out of his water canteen and passed it to John. "If Dutch and Hosea say it's important, then it's important. Ya need to be literate in the jobs we do."

"Sometimes I think that's harder than learnin' how to ride a horse or shoot a gun."

Arthur nodded with a soft laugh. "Yeah, it's hard sometimes. They taught me, same as you. I reckon if they can teach a dummy like me, then they can teach you too. I mean look at you. It didn't take long for you to learn how to ride a horse."

"I guess so…"

They rode together side by side while chatting. John could be a talkative boy and today he was full of questions. Arthur kept an eye out around them as they crossed a bridge over a low-running creek into a field of sagebrush and boulders.

His eye caught something down near the water and he quickly pulled on the reins to stop his horse. He recognized the familiar flower that bloomed there, the soft pink petals and dark anthers stood out amongst the reeds and mud.

Arthur got off his horse. He couldn't believe it. He didn't think he was far enough west yet to find one. The flower was his mother's favorite, and he remembered her telling him it brought good luck. He was so young when she passed, it was one of the few precious memories he had of her.

"What is it?" John asked.

"I'll be right back," Arthur replied, sliding down the slope into the creek bed.

Arthur wasn't surprised that John's curiosity and stubbornness got the best of him. He followed Arthur down into the creek bed on his horse. The steed nickered nervously around the reeds and muck.

"John, better not get down in this on that horse," Arthur warned.

"I'm fine."

Arthur bent down once reaching the flower. He admired it for a moment, caressing its petals. He reached down and grabbed the stem, carefully pulling it from the soil.

Just as Arthur stood his full height, he heard it. The unmistakable, nerve-shattering, dreadful noise of a vibrating rattle. He froze, looking into the reeds, but John's horse spooked. The gelding reared with a loud neigh, tossing John of its back and bolted.

John fell with a yelp into the reeds and muck. Arthur scanned the green stalks for movement, his hand hovering over his holstered revolver.

"John, don't move!"

He saw the serpent, the bend in the reeds as it slithered by in haste. Arthur drew his gun and shot it. John got up, his body and clothes now covered with muck. He flicked his hands to cast off excess mud, curling his lip in disgust.

"Ew!"

"I told you not to bring that horse down here, boy."

John spat out mud from his mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

Arthur picked up the rattlesnake, looking the limp body over. He grinned at John and his now even dirtier appearance. "Miss Grimshaw ain't gonna allow that, ya know."

"I'll wipe it off as soon as we get back, don't worry."

"Somehow, I don't think that's gonna be enough."

Arthur cut the rattle off the dead viper and extended it out towards John. John smiled and took it, testing the rattle out with a shake.

"Neat!"

"C'mon, best we get back and clean you up."

Arthur looked over the flower one last time before slipping it inside his satchel. Luckily, John's horse didn't flee far, taking comfort next to Arthur's horse. They climbed up and headed out once more.

"So, what's with the flower?"

Arthur frowned, wondering if he should tell him or not. "It was my Ma's favorite flower. One of the few things I remember 'bout her. She died when I was real young. I always pick one when we come out this way. They only grow out west."

"Oh."

Arthur glanced over at John. The boy became solemn, his eyes falling to the mane of his horse.

"What is it?"

"I never knew my Ma. S-She died havin' me. My Pa never told me much 'bout her."

Arthur understood how the poor boy felt, and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

They were quiet for several minutes. Arthur scratched his cheek, uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Susan's strict but she cares a lot more than she lets on. And-And Bessie, well, she's the gentlest woman I know. I've come to care for them as mothers, in their own ways. I'm sure you will too. Them two ladies would never let anyone touch a hair on your head. Bessie for sure. She has quite the soft spot for you."

John smiled. "I like Bessie a lot. She's the nicest lady I've ever met. I-I like Miss Grimshaw too. I know she cares, even when she's bein' tough on me."

Arthur chuckled. "I'd be pissin' my pants more if I saw them two comin' after me after you were hurt even over Dutch 'n Hosea. You ever see Miss Grimshaw grab a shotgun while fumin' you better hunker down, boy, 'cause things are 'bout to get ugly. Hah!"

John laughed with him. "I wouldn't doubt that! She can be scary."

They took another trail going up into the evergreen forest along a rocky ridge. The path was worn down to dirt and rocks that jutted out from the soil, so they had to slow their pace some for the horses. Camp wasn't far now.

"I overheard Hosea and Bessie talkin' a couple weeks back, not long after we got here."

"You're a nosy little bugger aren'tcha?"

"Hey, they thought everyone was sleepin' and I happened to not be. But anyways, well, it worried me a bit. Sounded like they wanted to leave us."

Arthur shot his eyes over at John from those words. "Surely, you misheard. What did ya hear?"

"Bessie asked Hosea if they would ever try again. To leave this life behind and start their own family. Hosea asked her if she wanted to, but I didn't hear an answer. I dunno if she shook her head or what. But it's what Hosea said next that confused me."

"What did he say?"

John thinned his lips, thinking back. "He said…he said there's an internal conflict within Dutch, one that he doesn't even know about. And Hosea said he has to stay by his side…to keep Dutch from feeding an inner wolf…whatever that means. That he has to guide Dutch as well as protect us. He said he fears that Dutch is becoming disillusioned with his own beliefs, but I don't know what he means."

Arthur scowled, not sure what to take from those words either. For some reason, he thought back to Dutch's behavior at the Warren homestead when they saved John from being hanged. Arthur didn't see anything wrong with what Dutch did, seeing it as an "eye for an eye" for what Mr. Warren tried to do to a young boy, for all the corruption he was behind in Hickory and Andell. But there had been a certain…burning in Dutch's eyes that Arthur had never seen before.

Arthur shrugged. "Eh, Hosea worries too much sometimes. I'm sure it's nothin'. He and Bessie tried goin' straight once and came back. The thing is…Dutch and Hosea are a package. One cannot function without the other. Like buddy-sour horses if you try and separate 'em."

"So, it's nothin' to worry 'bout?"

"Nah, 'course not."

"Oh, good."

They came upon the camp, hidden in a glade within the spruce forest and half surrounded by an overhanging cliff. The tents and wagon were stationed around the rocky opening. A campfire was smoldering near some sitting stones and a log. The horses were hitched in a grassy patch near the cliff.

The gentle rumble of a small waterfall sounded on the other side of the cliff as the water cascaded into a basin next to the camp before flowing out into a large river.

Arthur and John hitched their horses with the others and got off. Arthur took the pronghorn off his horse and carried it over to the butcher table to skin later.

He looked around camp. Bessie was washing clothes in the basin while Susan hung some sheets up to dry. Hosea and Dutch were at a table, a chessboard in between them. Both looked to be in deep thought as they considered their tactics. Dutch was black and Hosea white, but Arthur didn't understand chess too well and so was lost at who was winning.

Arthur and John had just taken off their satchels and gun holsters when Susan stamped their way with a look in her eye.

"Uh oh," John muttered.

"John Marston, look at you! You look like you've been in a pigsty!"

"Sorry Miss Grimshaw, my horse threw me on the way home. I'm goin' over to the water barrel right now."

"Oh no! That won't do. You need a bath!" Susan pointed down nearby at the basin of clear, cold water.

John's eyes went wide. "What?! No way! I'd rather be eaten by wolves!"

John slipped behind Arthur to avoid Susan's grabbing hands. Susan stepped around Arthur's back, and the two preceded to chase each other around, using Arthur as an obstacle. Arthur watched them go round and round while arguing, catching Bessie's and their leaders' attentions.

"Arthur, help me!" John cried.

"It's just a bath, you little imp!"

Arthur groaned. He reached out and grabbed John, picking the boy up off the ground easily. He started walking for the basin with John fighting his clutches.

"There's no use fightin' it, John. Let's just get this over with."

He stopped at the water's edge. The water was clear and clean, but the basin sloped fast, becoming deep and turning dark blue in the middle. There were tons of fish in the water, and a gentle ripple came from the waterfall.

"I know you don't like water, but the sooner you get clean, the sooner we can get about our business."

"It's not that!" John hollered, squirming. "I…I can't swim!"

Arthur narrowed his brows. "Whatchu mean you can't swim?"

"Just that, ya dummy! I never learned and ever since I almost drowned, I've been scared to! Now let me go!"

"I know how to fix that."

"Wha-?"

Arthur tossed John into the basin. Susan gawked, jaw going wide as the splash sounded across camp. John burst out of the surface, gasping, limbs flailing. Soon Dutch, Hosea, and Bessie ran up.

"Kick them legs and move them arms, you'll learn!" Arthur yelled.

"You're evil!"

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?!" Dutch snapped.

"What? That's how my Pa taught me," Arthur defended.

"Your daddy wasn't exactly right in the head then!" Hosea exclaimed.

"Well, he-" Arthur started, but Dutch smacked him hard across the back of the head. "Ow, hey!"

"Get in there and get him before he drowns!"

Arthur jumped into the water and swam the short distance to John. The clean, blue water turned brown from the muck washing away from the flailing boy. Arthur reached out and snagged John, and like a prickly bur, the wild boy seized onto him and wouldn't let him go.

He got to the basin edge and was helped out by Dutch and Hosea. John clung onto Arthur's back, terrified, soaked, and shivering.

"Sorry, John. I thought it would work with you too."

They helped John down. The boy glared up at Arthur, still shivering and dripping wet. "Your pa was an evil bastard, Arthur!"

Arthur shrugged. "I mean, ya ain't wrong."

"You alright, John?" Hosea asked.

"I think…so."

Dutch sighed. "Susan, Bessie, could you please clean him up?"

"Sure, Dutch," Susan replied.

Bessie took John's hand and guided him for the wagon to clean him up and get him fresh clothes. John followed silently, leaving a dripping trail behind.

Arthur felt Dutch's and Hosea's chastising glares on him. He blinked at them. "What?! He got clean didn't he?!"

Dutch shook his head. "You just graduated to a new level of big brother."

"Try to refrain from throwing John into bodies of water in the future until we can teach him how to swim…the proper way," Hosea said.

"Alright, sure." Arthur scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his own soaked form. "Well, s'cuse me, gentlemen. I better change and get to skinnin' an animal."

The sun had disappeared beyond the western horizon, and the stars glowed like perfect orbs across a black sky. Like infinite shining jewels, they lit the sky up in a spray of brilliance. They glimmered so vibrantly, Arthur felt he could reach up and pluck one from the heavens. He admired their beauty while eating his supper. They seemed so…endless.

John sat beside him, wolfing his stew down. The boy still ate like a starved dog, and Arthur was sure the boy ate nearly double he did. He had gained a little weight since being with them, but was still a scrawny twig.

He was clean now, even his hair seemed a bit less greasy. Arthur was surprised he was even sitting next to him. John sure had been mad for Arthur throwing him into the basin.

"John, I'm…sorry for that. I didn't know that almost drownin' freaked you out that much. Ya know, when my Pa did that to me, I panicked, but…but I learned. I guess."

John wiped his mouth with his sleeve, looking up at him. "It's alright. I know you meant well, even if it was really mean. But your Pa…well he weren't right in the head!"

Arthur laughed. "Not arguin' with ya there. But hey, we'll teach ya properly, whenever you're ready."

"Okay."

Dutch approached them at the campfire, a cigar curled in a finger. Hosea and Bessie played dominoes at the table while eating, and Susan read at the other end of the campfire while she ate.

"Arthur, I'm going to need you to come into town with me tomorrow."

Arthur sat his empty plate aside, nodding. "Alright, sure, Dutch. What're we doin'?"

"Meeting a man named Colm O'Driscoll. Supposed to have a good handle on any jobs out this way. We could help each other. He mostly works in California, which is where we're headed. So…could be a promising start."

"Oh, can I come, Dutch?" John asked, thrilled.

Dutch smirked, flicking the ash of his cigar into the campfire. "No, son. Not this time. It may be dangerous. I appreciate your enthusiasm though. Don't worry, you'll get to come with us soon enough."

John frowned. "Okay."

"How's your shootin' coming along?" Dutch asked him.

John glanced up at Arthur then smiled at Dutch. "Comin' along real good, Dutch. I'm gettin' better!"

"Good to hear. Say, how about you and I go out shooting when we get back from town tomorrow? I think it's my turn to give Arthur a little break anyways. I can show ya a little trick you may like."

"Really? Sure!"

Dutch chuckled, ruffling John's head. "That's my boy. Now, don't forget you have a study session with me and Hosea after supper, ya hear?"

"Oh, right. Yes sir."

"Arthur, try to get to bed at a decent time tonight. I need you well-rested for tomorrow, son."

"Don't worry 'bout me, Dutch. I'll be ready."

Dutch patted his shoulder and left the campfire. Arthur sighed and scooped up his empty plate and spoon. John handed over his empty plate as well.

"You want seconds?" Arthur asked.

John shook his head. "Nah, I better get my study over with."

"Yeah, I better get my chores done."

"Will I ever get to go with you and Dutch on jobs?"

"Well, sure. You just got to get better at shootin' and readin' and writin'. You're getting there, John. Dutch is real proud, he praises 'bout you all the time. You'll get to come with us before you know it."

"Ugh, just seems like I'll never get the hang of it."

"You will. I thought the same too. Dutch and Hosea and well…me also…we just don't want anythin' bad to happen to ya. We're just bein' protective, is all."

That got a smile out of John, and he looked grateful. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur playfully smacked the boy on the arm. "Course! Now, get over there and learn some readin'. Maybe we can play some dominoes later."

John left to go to Dutch's tent. Arthur took their plates to the wash bin and went to feed and brush the horses. Since the sun went down, the temperature dropped considerably. Arthur knew that winter was getting close, and hoped they would make it to California before the first snow.

After tending to the horses, Arthur helped Susan and Bessie with the laundry and dishes. He stopped to peak into Dutch's tent. A lantern lit the tent up, and showed Dutch sitting next to John and Hosea sitting across from them. John looked like he was mouthing something from a book.

"He's such a good kid. I'm so glad we found him," Bessie said, looking over at the tent as well. "He deserves much better than what's he had growing up."

Arthur slowly nodded. "Yeah. We all had it rough, but he…well, it ain't been easy for the boy. You can tell he ain't used to nobody carin'."

"You're right. He's sure has taken to you though. Follows you all over the camp…eager to go with you hunting or shopping."

Arthur rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, he likes to follow Dutch around too, ya know."

Bessie giggled. "Ain't nothin' to be embarrassed about, Arthur. He looks up to you. That's always a nice thing."

Arthur softly snorted a chuckle, lowering his head. "Well, he likes you a lot, Bessie. I think…I think he may see you as a mama he ain't never had."

Bessie put a hand over her heart, a smile gracing her beautiful face. "That…That means so much to me. I'm happy to hear that."

Bessie stood up on her tip toes and kissed Arthur on the cheek. "G'night, dear. You boys be careful in town tomorrow, ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am. G'night."

Arthur went to his tent to do some writing in his journal. He kicked his boots off and took his hat from his head. He pulled the flower from his satchel and admired it for a moment, thinking back to the blurry memories of his mother. He placed the flower in a jar and sat it to the side by his bag and weapons and his pictures.

John's writing and reading lesson went on longer than Arthur thought it would, and so by the time he was done scribbling in his journal, John finally appeared and crawled into the tent with him. Arthur wasn't surprised. The boy had his own tent now, but there were many nights that he slept with Arthur in his tent. It annoyed Arthur at first, but he had come accustomed to it and didn't gripe about it…too much.

"How'd it go?" Arthur asked, shading the sketch he drew of his Ma's flower.

"Good, I s'pose. Went on longer than usual. We didn't even get to play a game."

"Maybe tomorrow then."

"You draw really good."

Arthur pulled the journal closer to him so John couldn't see. "Don't be peekin'. This is for my eyes only."

"Dutch has a similar journal. He has some drawings in there, but not as much as yours. He writes real fancy though. Maybe one day I'll be able to read what it says."

Arthur heaved a sigh. "You ain't supposed to read or go through other people's things. It's rude and wrong. Better not let Dutch catch ya doin' that, or he may tan your hide."

"Ain't that what we do though? We go through folks' things and steal them?"

Arthur snorted. "Gotta point there. I meant your friends' things."

"Do they always stay up late talkin'?" John asked, looking out of the tent.

Arthur followed his gaze out of the tent and across the way. Hosea and Dutch sat at the table, both peering at the stars as they smoked on cigars. Hosea pointed at something in the sky while talking, but Arthur couldn't make the words out.

"Most nights, yeah."

"What do they talk about?"

Arthur grumbled. "I dunno. Life, philosophy, their dreams. All kinds of things."

"Must be nice to have a friend that you can do that with. To have all your trust in, to care for you and have your back. That you can tell all your hopes and fears to and-and know they will do anythin' for you."

Arthur closed his eyes, releasing a quiet breath. He reached over and grabbed his hat. He placed it on John's head. John smiled, his eyes tearing away from Dutch and Hosea to look up at Arthur.

"You have that right here. We all got your back, kid. We all care about you, and will never let anything like what happened back at that homestead ever happen to you again. You need someone to confide in…we're here."

John's cheeks flushed, but he looked so happy as he reached up at felt Arthur's hat. "Thanks…Arthur. I…I never thought I would find a place I could belong."

"Well, now you have."

"I promise, I will learn and become strong like you and will return it...I'll be loyal and strong and do anything in my power to help and protect you folks. I care 'bout all y'all very much."

Arthur chuckled. "Alright, alright. No need to get all emotional. I get ya and I have no doubt in it. Now, c'mon, let's get some shut eye. We got a long day tomorrow."

Arthur laid on his pallet and fluffed his pillow. He sat his journal aside by his satchel. John got comfortable on the other side of the tent on his own pallet, still keeping Arthur's hat on his head.

"Why do you like my hat so much anyways?" Arthur asked as he snuffed out the lantern.

"I don't really know. When I first saw you in Hickory, I just thought it was neat looking, and wanted it. But now…I think it's 'cause it's yours, and it makes you look like one of them legends or heroes you hear in them wild west tales. And when I wear it…I feel like maybe I can be like you one day. Brave, and strong, and loyal. That I can be a good man."

"Not sure if I'm any good. What we do ain't good. But you'll be a man one day. I plan to give that hat to my son, if I ever have kids that is. But who knows…maybe one day, I'll give it to you instead."

"I always wondered what it would be like."

Arthur glanced over John's way, but couldn't see him in the dark. Only the dancing of flames shimmered within the tent.

"Wondered what?"

"What it would be like to have a brother."

Arthur softly smiled. "Me too."

[andrewtheconqueror-blog]

Blog No. 9

Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini’s Aria (Analysis)

                                        Gioachino Antonio Rossini

                            (February 29, 1792—November 13, 1868)

Gioachino Rossini (1792–1868) was an Italian composer who wrote 39 operas as well as sacred music, chamber music, songs, and some instrumental and piano pieces.

Life and Music 

Having produced a whirlwind series of 38 operas, following the premiere of William Tell in August 1829, and with close on 40 years of life still remaining, he laid down his operatic pen for ever. Perhaps Rossini had finally had enough, as he was once reputed to have remarked: "How wonderful opera would be if there were no singers!"

Rossini was born in Pesaro in 1793, the son of a town trumpeter-cum-inspector of slaughterhouses, ‘Guiseppe Rossini’ whose questionable political sympathies once resulted in a short jail sentence. The family was otherwise constantly on the move, Rossini's mother appearing as a principal singer in a series of comic opera productions, while the budding young composer learned his craft, based in Bologna.

He composed his first opera, Demetrio e Polibio, while still a student at the Liceo Musicale in Bologna, where his love of Mozart led to his being nicknamed, "the German". Such was its success that it led to a series of operatic ventures which initially culminated in the Barber of Seville. When Donizetti heard that Rossini had composed it in a matter of just three weeks, he remarked sardonically: "Rossini always was a lazy fellow."

Rossini's stage output culminated in the premiere of William Tell in Paris in 1829, after which he virtually stopped composing, save for a few songs, piano pieces and two famous large-scale choral works - the Stabat Mater and the Petite Messe Solennelle .

Rossini died at his villa in Passy on 13 November 1868 following a short illness. Having initially been buried in Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris, his remains were subsequently moved to Santa Croce in Florence in 1887.

Did you know?

For Rossini's 70th birthday celebrations in 1862, a number of his friends clubbed together in order to have a statue built in his honour. His reaction was typically boisterous: "Why not give the money to me and I'll stand on the pedestal myself!"

Figaro's “Largo Al Factotum,” From 'The Barber of Seville'

"The Barber of Seville" (Italian: Il barbiere di Siviglia) is a comedic opera by Giachino Rossini. It's based on the first play of of "Le Barbier de Seville," the three-part story of Figaro written by French playwright Pierre Beaumarchais.

"Largo al Factorum," Figaro's opening aria in the opera's first act, is considered one of the most challenging operas for a baritone to perform, due to its brisk time signature and convoluted rhyme structure.

Modern audiences may recognize "Largo al factotum" as a staple of the ​"Looney Tunes" cartoons.

History of 'The Barber of Seville'

The opera premiered at the Teatro Argentina in Rome in 1816. Now considered a masterpiece of musical comedy, "The Barber of Seville" had a difficult first performance, but quickly grew in popularity.

Figaro's Opening Aria 'Largo al Factorum'

In the first act, the audience meets the flamboyant Figaro who introduces himself as the city's top quality factotum, or handyman. Figaro is quite assured of his abilities and describes his popularity and his many talents. He's a jack of all trades. He loves his life, saying that and a more noble life cannot be found.

Italian Lyrics Largo al factotum della citta. Presto a bottega che l'alba e gia. Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere per un barbiere di qualita! Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo! Fortunatissimo per verita! Pronto a far tutto, la notte e il giorno sempre d'intorno in giro sta.

Miglior cuccagna per un barbiere, vita piu nobile, no, non si da. Rasori e pettini lancette e forbici, al mio comando tutto qui sta. V'e la risorsa, poi, de mestiere colla donnetta... col cavaliere... Tutti mi chiedono, tutti mi vogliono, donne, ragazzi, vecchi, fanciulle: Qua la parruca... Presto la barba... Qua la sanguigna...

Presto il biglietto... Qua la parruca, presto la barba, Presto il biglietto, ehi! Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, ecc. Ahime, che furia! Ahime, che folla! Uno alla volta, per carita! Figaro! Son qua. Ehi, Figaro! Son qua. Figaro qua, Figaro la, Figaro su, Figaro giu, Pronto prontissimo son come il fumine: sono il factotum della citta. Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo; a te fortuna non manchera.

English Translation Handyman of the city. Early in the workshop I arrive at dawn. Ah, what a life, what a pleasure For a barber of quality! Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, very good! I am the luckiest, it's the truth! Ready for anything, night and day I'm always on the move. Cushier fate for a barber, A more noble life cannot be found. Razors and combs Lancets and scissors, at my command everything is here. Here are the extra tools then, for business With the ladies... with the gentlemen... Everyone asks me, everyone wants me, women, children, old people, young ones: Here are the wigs... A quick shave of the beard... Here are the leeches for bleeding... The note... Here are the wigs, a quick shave soon, The note, hey! Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, Etc.. Alas, what frenzy! Alas, what a crowd!

One at a time, for goodness sake! Figaro! I'm here. Hey, Figaro! I'm here. Figaro here, Figaro there, Figaro up, Figaro down, Swifter and swifter I'm like a spark: I'm the handyman of the city. Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, very good; Fortunately for you I will not fail.

Musical Analysis:

Written in ABA form, also know as a ternary form or a song form. The flamboyant opening of the orchestra gave preparation to the robust melody of the baritone solo. The bass section opens the music with a masculine one-note pluck, suggesting a dominant chord then suddenly, the orchestra comes in, full blast, with a lot scalar passages, leaps of an octave, and grace notes. The 1st  section revolves in its home key, C major, sometimes sitting to its dominant key, (G)  then transitions to Eb major in the 2nd section by using ascending half step patterns from the note G up to Eb in a syllable ‘Na’. (G-F#-G, Ab-G-Ab-, A-G#-A, Bb-A-Bb, B-A#-B, CBC, D-C#-D---Eb) It goes to its relative minor, (C) then eventually went back to tonic. 

Artist Biography

Gaetano Donizetti was among the most important composers of bel canto opera in both Italian and French in the first half of the nineteenth Century. Many of Donizetti's more than 60 operas are still part of the modern repertoire and continue to challenge singers for their musical and technical demands. Donizetti stands stylistically between Rossini and Verdi; his scenes are usually more expanded in structure than those of Rossini, but he never blurred the lines between set pieces and recitative as Verdidid in his middle-period and late works. Often compared to his contemporary, Bellini, Donizetti produced a wider variety of operas and showed a greater stylistic flexibility, even if he never quite achieved the sheer beauty of Bellini's greatest works.

Donizetti was educated in Bergamo, the town of his birth, studying with the opera composer Simon Mayr from 1806 to 1814. His youthful works include chamber operas, religious works, and some chamber music. Donizetti's first opera of note was La Zingara, which was premiered in Naples in 1822. He continued to work in Naples throughout the 1820's and 1830's, where he was active as both a conductor and composer.

In 1830, Donizetti finally achieved international fame with his opera Anna Bolena; notable for its expressive music and more extended scenes, it established Donizetti as one of the leading contemporary opera composers. The comic opera L'elisir d'amore (1832) and the tragic Lucrezia Borgia (1833) came shortly after. Donizetti's next work was Maria Stuarda, followed the same year by Lucia di Lammermoor (1835), which became an internationally recognized masterpiece. The Elizabethan tragedy Roberto Devereux (1837) completed his trilogy of operas that chronicle the English court from Henry VIII to Elizabeth I.

Donizetti's operas from the late 1830s were unable to match the success of Lucia, and when Donizetti was passed over for the directorship of the Naples Conservatory in 1840, he moved to Paris. There he composed the opera comique La fille du Régiment (1840), which was celebrated immediately for its charm and virtuosity. Later that year he completed La favorite (1840), another major contribution to the French repertoire. In 1842 Donizetti was appointed Kapellmeister of the Austrian court in Vienna, but retained his association with Paris.

Among Donizetti's last operas are Maria di Rohan (1843), an important historic opera, and his French tragedy Dom Sébastian (1843). Caterina Cornaro (1843) is also one of his finest works for its strong dramatic content. These late operas, although rarely performed, are serious works that set the standard for Verdi.

                                                                                             - Steven Coburn

 “Una Furtiva Lagrima” From Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore

Italian Text of 'Una Furtiva Lagrima'

Una furtiva lagrima negli occhi suoi spuntò: Quelle festose giovani invidiar sembrò.

Che più cercando io vo? Che più cercando io vo? M'ama! Sì, m'ama, lo vedo. Lo vedo. Un solo instante i palpiti del suo bel cor sentir! I miei sospir, confondere per poco a' suoi sospir! I palpiti, i palpiti sentir, confondere i miei coi suoi sospir... Cielo! Si può morir! Di più non chiedo, non chiedo. Ah, cielo! Si può! Si, può morir! Di più non chiedo, non chiedo. Si può morire! Si può morir d'amor.

English Translation of 'Una Furtiva Lagrima'

A single secret tear from her eye did spring: as if she envied all the youths that laughingly passed her by. What more searching need I do? What more searching need I do? She loves me! Yes, she loves me, I see it. I see it. For just an instant the beating of her beautiful heart I could feel! As if my sighs were hers, and her sighs were mine! The beating, the beating of her heart I could feel, to merge my sighs with hers... Heavens! Yes, I could die! I could ask for nothing more, nothing more. Oh, heavens! Yes, I could, I could die! I could ask for nothing more, nothing more. Yes, I could die! Yes, I could die of love.

L’elisir d’amore, (Italian: “The Elixir of Love” or “The Love Potion”) comic opera in two acts by the Italian composer Gaetano Donizetti (Italian libretto by Felice Romani, after a French libretto by Eugène Scribe for Daniel-François-Esprit Auber’s Le Philtre, 1831) that premiered in Milanon May 12, 1832. 

Main Characters

Nemorino — a good-hearted but penniless waiter Adina  — a wealthy and beautiful bar owner Belcore — experienced charmer and Nemorino’s rival Dulcamara — a travelling ‘quack’ (medicine man), who touts a dubious cure-all elixir Giannetta — Adina’s friend and town gossip

Music

What separates L’Elisir d’Amore from dozens of charming comedies composed around the same time is not only the superiority of its hit numbers, but the overall consistency of its music. It represents the best of the bel canto tradition that reigned in Italian opera in the early 19th century—from funny patter songs to rich ensembles to wrenching melody in the solos, most notably the tenor’s showstopping aria “Una furtiva lagrima” in Act II. Its variations between major and minor keys in the climaxes are one of opera’s savviest depictions of a character’s dawning consciousness.

Setting And Story Summary

The opera is set in a small village in the early 19th century, rural Italy. Some early editions indicate a location in Basque country. The important fact is that it’s a place where everyone knows everyone and where traveling salesmen provide a major form of public entertainment. 

Act I

Adina’s farm. Adina is sitting beneath a tree on her farm, reading a book. Her friend Giannetta and other peasants are resting nearby. Nemorino watches Adina from a distance, lamenting that he has nothing but love to offer her (“Quànto è bella, quànto è cara”). The peasants ask Adina to read to them, and she reads them the story of how Tristan won Isolde by drinking a magic love potion.

Sergeant Belcore swaggers in with his troop. Adina laughs at his braggadocio, but when he presses her to marry him, she promises to think it over. She invites the whole troop to her house for some wine, and the peasants return to their work. Nemorino intercepts Adina on her way to the house and awkwardly declares his love for her. She tells him that he is a nice fellow but that she is not inclined to fall in love with anyone.

In the village square, the populace eagerly greets the traveling “Doctor” Dulcamara, who proclaims the virtues of his patent cure-all (“Udite, udite, o rustici”). Nemorino asks Dulcamara if he has the Elixir of Love described in Adina’s book. Dulcamara gives Nemorino a bottle of wine, telling him that it is the magical elixir. Nemorino gulps it down and becomes tipsy. When Adina enters, Nemorino, certain that the potion will work, pretends to ignore her. To punish him, Adina flirts with Belcore, who tells her that he must return to his garrison and so must marry her at once. Nemorino, dismayed by this turn of events, urges Adina to wait just one more day, but she spitefully ignores him and invites the entire village to the wedding.

Act II

Adina’s house. Everyone is celebrating at the pre-wedding feast at Adinas house. Adina secretly wishes Nemorino had come so she could enjoy her revenge. Dulcamara sings a flirtatious duet with Adina (“Io son ricco e tu sei bella”), to great applause. Adina, still miffed at Nemorino’s absence, goes off with Belcore and a notary to sign the marriage contract.

Nemorino arrives, fearing that he is too late to prevent the wedding. Seeing Dulcamara, he begs for another bottle of the magic elixir, but Dulcamara will not give it to him until he can pay for it. Nemorino throws himself on a bench in despair. Belcore now returns, annoyed that Adina has postponed the wedding until that evening. Seeing Nemorino, Belcore asks why he is so sad. Nemorino tells him that he is despondent because he has no money. Belcore advises him to join the army, where he can instantly earn 20 scudi. Nemorino is reluctant, but Belcore persuades him with a vision of the glories (and opportunities for winning the ladies) of being a military man. Nemorino enlists and takes the money, thrilled at the prospect of winning Adina. Belcore secretly plumes himself on having recruited his rival and getting him out of the way.

In the village, Giannetta tells her friends the exciting news that Nemorino’s uncle has died and left him a fortune. Nemorino staggers in, having drunk the second bottle of “elixir.” He suddenly finds himself the centre of female attention, and, not knowing that he has become an eligible bachelor, believes that the elixir is finally working. Adina and Dulcamara arrive and are both astonished to see Nemorino surrounded by the village maidens and fully enjoying his newfound popularity. Adina angrily confronts him about joining the army, but Nemorino, enjoying her jealousy, goes off with a gaggle of girls. Dulcamara tells Adina that the magic elixir has made Nemorino popular, and that he joined the army in order to get the money to pay for it. Adina realizes that Nemorino’s love is true. Dulcamara, seeing an opportunity to sell more elixir, tries to rouse her jealousy, but she vows to win him back her own way.

Alone, Nemorino recalls the tear on Adina’s cheek and is convinced that she loves him (“Una furtiva lagrima”). But when she arrives, he pretends to be uninterested, in order to get her to declare her true feelings. She asks him not to leave and tells him that she has bought back his commission (“Prendi, per me sei libero”). But she still will not confess her love, so Nemorino vows to die a soldier. At last, Adina tells him that she loves him and begs his forgiveness. Belcore arrives to find the lovers embracing. But he is confident that there are plenty of fish in the sea—and that Dulcamara and his love potion can help.

-Linda Cantoni

What style is it in?

L’elisir d’amore is written in the bel canto style, which literally means ‘beautiful song’.  Bel canto is all about exhibiting the beauty of the human voice. The orchestra functions to support the singer rather than to compete, and the orchestration is often quite sparse, leaving the voice exposed. This means that the singer’s intonation and vocal technique must be absolutely perfect, making bel canto a challenging style to master.

Donizetti, Bellini, and Rossini were the three leading composers of the bel canto style during the first half of the nineteenth century.

Musical Analyis:

This aria, written in strophic form has a very lovely and moving melody, in bel canto style. Donizetti tried to capture Nemorino’s feelings for Adina through arching melodic lines, opening the aria in an interval of a perfect fifth downward, descending in a minor second, and then going to a minor third upward with a leisurely rhythm. 

Sources: 

“'Torna a Surriento'.” Classic FM, www.classicfm.com/composers/rossini/. 

Green, Aaron. “Translation of ‘Largo Al Factotum’ From ‘The Barber of Seville.’” ThoughtCo, ThoughtCo, www.thoughtco.com/largo-al-factotum-lyrics-and-text-translation-724018. 

Schwarm, Betsy, and Linda Cantoni. “L'elisir D'amore.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 4 Apr. 2014, www.britannica.com/topic/Lelisir-damore. 

Green, Aaron. “What Does the Famous Aria 'Una Furtiva Lagrima' Mean in English?” ThoughtCo, ThoughtCo, www.thoughtco.com/una-furtiva-lagrima-lyrics-and-translation-724077. 

“L'elisir D'amore in a Nutshell.” Opera North, www.operanorth.co.uk/blogs/l-elisir-d-amore-in-a-nutshell.

[the-rudolph-legacy-continued]

As Valentine flopped onto the bed, she was mildly surprised that Cupid didn’t lay down next to her, as was tradition when the three of them hung out in her tent. She thought nothing of it, until she noticed the mixture of excitment and nervousness on the boys’ faces. Propping herself up on her elbows, as she studied their expressions further as the penny dropped.

“..This is a serious talk about something big, isn’t it?” 

“You’re way too good at reading faces” Cupid gently sneered before his hold on Rufus’ hand tightened with glee.

“It’s fairly big news, but it’s more of a plan at the moment”

“If yous got engaged ‘an ‘ad a bachelor do without me, I’ll be right fumin” 

“No, not engaged. Not yet” Cupid cooed the last two words at Rufus, tenderly caressing the back of his neck “We’re actually thinking of getting our own place and starting a family”

The excited squeal that exploded from Valentine was near deafening and made the three men all jump at it’s pitch.

“Babies?!” the pair nodded, happily giggeling at her reaction “AH! BABIES BAS!” Valentine excitedly squealed once more as she grabbed her man’s shoulder and shook him, just to make sure he got the same message.

“I know! I heard! Jesus woman, I know it’s exciting love, but bring it down a few notches”

Valentine did so as she brought her knees to her chest and her hands to cup her face.

“Are you thinking of adopting from Berry Sweets? You’d be accepted in a heartbeat”

“Not exactly..” Cupid began with a slightly sorrowful expression on his face as Rufus began to stroke his back comfortingly “I know how you’re going to react, but let me say all I want to before butting in, okay?”

Valentine nodded, her eyes now wide with concern.

“It sounds silly saying it out loud, but I feel like our Dads look at me and you slightly differently..”

Basil instinctively and gently grabbed Valentine’s pointed hand that had shot up, placed it in his and patted it softly before giving her a knowing and soothing look.

“Let him say his piece flower”

Nodding once more, she squeezed Basil’s hand, moved her free one to cover her mouth and looked back to her brother.

“..They look at you and see themselves. Papa sees his skin.. Pops nearly sees his reflection and.. I know they wanted me and love me.. But I’m the odd one out really”

Cupid swallowed as he stared at the floor and cracked his knuckles one finger at a time, something he only did when he rarely let his guard down to show his emotions.

“It’s okay hunny..” Rufus whispered as Cupid’s bottom lip began to wobble at the uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling of tears gently running down his cheeks.

Cupid stayed silent for a moment as he hid in Rufus’ neck and shook slightly as he quietly cried. With a forced and pained smile, Rufus looked at Valentine and Basil further up the bed and the three shared a knowing look. They wanted to help Cupid know how loved he was, but wording it difficult along side processing the vulnerable state they all weren't used to seeing him in.

Eventually Cupid sat back upright and wiped the remaining tears from his face with the palm of his hand as Rufus handed him back his pink glasses he had just cleaned.

“I’m proud of you hunny..” Rufus whispered once more “..You remembered to breath that time”

Finally smiling at making his city boy smile, Rufus squeezed his hand in his own, silently prompting him to continue.

“I know they love me to the moon and back and don’t see me as anything other than their own, but there’s always been a stupid little niggely voice at the back of my mind that says they don’t SEE me as their own, you know? It’s silly, but I want to look at our kids and see what parts are from me and what parts are from Rufus. I want to see a beautiful brown little baby with silly pink eyes and damn it I want our stuff to match!” he finally laughed, bringing the cosiness back into the tent.

“Well.. That was a lot to take in..” Valentine manage to croke as she fought back her own tears “..And I’ll obviously never know how you feel about this, but they wanted you from the minuet they saw you. They saw that sweet little tot and said that he just had to be apart of their family. We all adore you, we love you’re sarcastic, sneeky little attitude and we wouldn’t change you for anyone or anything”

“I’d change ya for Tom Hardy like” Basil added with a smurk that soon turned into a belly laugh at Valentine slapping his arm with playful annoyance, bringing the four of them back to the warm feeling of family.

“So! Swiftly returning to babies. We’re thinking of going the route of a surrogate, but it’s a lot of planning, background checks..”

“..Her overall health..”

“..Her living condition..”

“..How responcable she is with check ups..”

“..Her diet..”

“..Good God Val the list never ends!” 

Valentine only responded with a thoughtful hum as she tapped her finger on her chin and thought though all the information she had just had thrown at her. But as one amazingly clear though shone out of the dizzying madness, a Cheshire cat like grin spread across her face as she looked to her boys.

“I could do it”

The raised eyebrows from the rest of the room said everything their baffled thought could not.

“Oh come on! It makes so much sense! You already know everything about me, I can get on a better eating plan and..” she moved her hand to hold Basil’s “I’m sure Bas can take care good care of me”

“You know I’d do anything for you love.. But a baby..” His warm smile wobbled into a nervous and almost terrified look “..It’s a big commitment, even if it’s for someone else and you’ve still got to give birth to it like”

“It’s a huge commitment Val..” Rufus chimed in “..We’d all have to think about it and how it would work with our circus life, getting a house.. We’d need to think about a lot of things”

“But..” Cupid hummed, his face humble shocked by his sister's selflessness “..It would mean the world to me. To us. No pressure though”

“How about this then. You can think about it, plan it out, see if that’ll work for you both and, if you’d like to, I can rent you my baby maker as a Christmas present. You’d have most of the new year to get a house, make it a home, sort out baby things and I’ll still have the next three month to enjoy circus life. How’s about that?”

“Make a decisions at by Christmas. Sounds like a plan to me” Rufus tunefully spoke, the thought of having a baby in the new year filling him with childlike glee.

“Well I. Am. Shattered. Far too much emotion and excitement for me!” Cupid hummed in a similar tune to Rufus before he looked up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes “Can I get a piggyback pweeeease?”

“Come on then” Rufus half laughed, half sighed as the two stood up headed towards the tent’s entrance, Cupid happily swinging his feet around his boyfriend’s torso.

[jessiewre]

Day 32

Weds 5th Feb

The next time the night bus stopped was 8:30am on the side of a busy road for a ‘pee stop’. I joked with the bus manager girl about the fact that it was kind of a man only toilet stop cos there was NO WHERE to hide, and she just smiled and agreed. I assumed that there would be another stop for women, but then wondered if perhaps that was a ridiculous notion cos ya know, we’re only 52% of the worlds population and why should it be someone else’s problem that we don’t have penises to conveniently pee from right?! Then a lady walked off the bus - was she gonna pee? I wondered, and I watched her with intrigue. She went to the side of the road in full view of the bus passenger window, opened up her huge shawl to cover herself and squatted on the grass to pee. Wow what a tekkers. Nothing but admiration for her (ok thats a lie, I also felt pure JEALOUSY, as I was desperate to pee). Maybe it was a stop for everyone after all.

The next time we stopped to let someone off I asked if there was a loo and the lady just laughed at me shakeing her head. FFS. I at least thought she would understand my situation and have some sympathy. By 9:30am, I had lost patience and the next time the bus stopped to let some people off, I just told her Let me off and I’d find a loo. She told me to ‘rush’. Alright mate, sure, I’ll rush around this main road while trying not to piss myself. My first thought of crossing the road was not a good one and I found a crumby cafe thing (I do not know who would eat here, it was even below my standards) and they said I could use the loo. Win!

There was a lady at the back of this dump holding a bucket and she said enthusiastically ‘Let me clean it for you!’

I politely said ‘Oh no, there’s no need...’ then took one look at the loo and started nodding. ‘Actually yeah crack on mate’.

The bucket she had was full of water so she just chucked the WHOLE LOT into the cubicle and soaked the room, absolutely not cleaning it at all. I was about to ask for loo roll then remembered I was in a rush and that this woman didn’t have shoes let alone loo roll, so cracked on and ran back to the bus where they weren’t even ready for me to leave anyway.

Half an hour later and we go to to River Road bus terminal. Based on what we’d read, we were expecting to get robbed the MOMENT we got off the bus. We grabbed our belongings and held them close to us while trying to look well ‘ard an that.

Contrary to this, it seemed fine, pleasant even, and after a bit of a haggle, we got in a taxi with a driver called Jackson. A smiley bloke who’s car had electric windows = ballin’.

We arrived at Wildebeest Eco Lodge and headed straight to the restaurant counting down the minutes till it was 11am and the kitchen would open so we could order something. At 11:01, I went to the counter BUZZIN. But they tried to mug me off by asking I come back in half an hour. I said Unfortunately this would not be possible. So they asked if it was because I was leaving soon.

I said ‘Umm no, I’ve just arrived from Uganda and I’m marvin mate, pleeeeease can we order something now please thank you please’.

They gave in and we had pumpkin soup, vege samosas and a bloody CHICKEN CAESAR SALAD. I don’t know why I ordered it, I just had an irrational craving and I can tell you now I won’t be ordering chicken again soon as it did not feel good (if I write it hear, then it’s even more likely I’ll stick to it). The bacon in the salad didn’t help matters either. Might have got away with it if it was crispy bacon, but nothing like fatty crap soft bacon to reassure you that the vege life is a good one.

We had a shower as soon as possible after this, I was trying to wash off the chicken and bacon, plus we realised our clothes were completely stinking (ok potentially mine more than Phil). Then we got ready for some pool time. 
The pool beds were SO INCREDIBLY HOT (in Africa eh, who knew) that I think Phil singed all the hairs on the back of his calf’s, but the pool was crisp and cold. So we managed to get through it.

Phil got super hungry again and we nailed ANOTHER pumpkin soup each but he had a vege burger too the wee fatty.

We lay on the grass for a bit after the pool and I noticed a little spot on Phil's lip. He reluctantly agreed to let me take a look at it and I tried to get rid of it swiftly. Whatever I did, it appeared to cause a lot of pain, and Phil screamed out and swore VERY loud and jumped up cursing me like crazy. So much so that I found it awkwardly hilarious so had to try and suppress my laughter, which got harder the more I knew I shouldn't laugh. I pulled the sarong in front of my face and Phil was so fumin (and apparently in a lot of pain) he stormed off to get some space. This made me laugh uncontrollably but with the sarong and my shades I felt I hid it slightly. By the time Phil returned 10 mins later, I was fully prepped with the sarong completely covered my head and face, with my shades covering my eyes. I tipped my shades down to look over the top and caught his eye as he approached and thankfully he started to laugh as I was pissin myself laughing to be honest. OH THE LAUGHS WE HAVE.

We debated about going out for dinnner but fatigue from our night bus was kicking in and the buffet dinner grew evermore appealing. We did not regret it as there were roast potatoes on offer - yum - but the tastiest dish was the bloody beef rendang so we had to try and get the sauce out without the meat...

Obviously the food hitting our stomachs caused immediate snooze-mode and we went to the dorm knowing it would be nice and quiet while everyone was eating and socialising. Squeezing into a single bed was tricky but worth it to watch some Netflix, finally finishing SE season 2. What a show.

[weatherman667]

I’m getting tired of people trying to copy Crunchyroll

Oh, look, Crunchyroll and Fumination, with their massive archives of anime for a few dollars a month.  Let’s get the rights to a few series and expect them to pour over.

No, all it’s doing is making people pirate it.  I know, I talk to the people pirating it.  Go balls deep or go home.

[doushiyou-ka]

Nissy’s Blog (02/16/17) & (02/23/17)✽

Nissy’s Blog (02/16/17) <first pic> 

Mt. Fuji [Mt. Fuji] I think Mt. Fuji is shaped the best example of "The mountain" no matter where we see even on a map or the view from a plane.(^-^) Mt. Fuji looks so beautiful but it was registered as a world heritage site only a few years ago.(￣Д￣)ノ I feel like it should have registered earlier than that. Well, I believe that Mt. Fuji had things going on. It's in a top of list when we talk about mountains in Japan! The shape is just so gorgeous, I even feel like that a Chinese letter "Yama" is designed from it. And it shows on top of mountain in winter. That's so beautiful too! It seems like Mt. Fuji says "Hello!" "I'm Mt. Fuji!" lol Hahahahaha. An imposing mountain we see there. It's still an active volcano, isn't it? Once the active volcano erupts, it stops for a while but Mt. Fuji has been erupted many times and it's still an active volcano. I think it means something. I have climbed up Mt. Fuji and there is a huge temperature difference from the bottom to the top of mountain, I knew that the name of its top is called "Kengamine" when I climbed for the first time.(^○^) And I was so surprised when I saw people who run Mt. Fuji with running shirt, I thought human's energy was amazing. We had a heavy backpack and had to get used to its air pressure. Some of them got sick and had to get back... Climbers say that "It's so hard for us to climb down." and I wondered why when I heard that, but I knew when I experienced... Why? Because we enjoy watching scenery when we climb up, few steps forward and enjoy where we are. We can enjoy every time we climb up even little by little but we see the same view when we climb down. So we don’t have "it's fun to climb!" feelings anymore. We just keep climbing down without any goals! lol It was really hard even if I remember now. It's been years since I climbed up, I want to climb Mt. Fuji again! I don't know why I feel like that. I guess I can do better this time than the last time! I had so many items in my bag!!! lol I next time I climb I bring the least items I really need and buy things at a time when I climb. It's a bit expensive but you know, this is a world heritage! Maybe it's better to buy and enjoy eating on a way to the top instead of bring all of them. We bring trash back but I feel like bringing the least items and climb up could be much better. But we are beginner so we bring more than we need at first. (。-_-。) So I want to climb up Mt. Fuji again. I want to see where I am on a way to the top of the mountain! What I enjoyed was only scenery last time. lol (>_<) The path was red clay suddenly and I found rocks in front of me!!! lol I was only concentrated on climbing... I can feel how big Mt. Fuji is when I climb up instead of seeing from a plane!(^-^) I be like "It's really huge like I imagine!!!" I think "Yes it's really big!!!"   Nishijima Takahiro

Nissy’s Blog (02/23/17) <second pic>

Insomnia [Fumin] insomnia is like you want to sleep but you cannot sleep well. Most reasons of it are such as "I think about things and my mind is awake!!" or "I'm not tired so I cannot sleep!!"... There are some reasons why you cannot sleep. Oh, jetlag is one of reasons too. I think we cannot sleep when we start thinking about it like "I guess I cannot sleep tonight!" "But I have to sleep!!" you know.lol But we cannot sleep when we start thinking about "I have to go to bed and sleep!!!" Basically.(。-_-。) "I cannot sleep because my mind is awake" "I cannot sleep because I have energy left" "I cannot sleep because of jetlag" These are the causes we think after suffering from insomnia, aren't they? We think about it when we start wondering why we cannot sleep. "Because I wasn't so active today!" or "Because I think about my work too much!" or "I'm supposed to be awake in oversea!". Before that, I believe that we suffer from insomnia when we start thinking "Oh, I don't feel like I can sleep now."(-。-; It's like "I have to go to bed because I have to wake up early!!" So I think we actually can sleep and it happens to me too. I suffer from insomnia, especially I have to wake up early next day and start thinking a lot. What I'm told from people is my feet and hands get cold when I start thinking a lot! I'm not sure if this is true or not, but it seems this happens because blood flows faster into brain. I experience that my feet and hands are cold after deep thoughts. I cannot sleep because my feet and hands are cold. But on the other hand, we fall asleep while we think about something, right?(￣Д￣)ノ This means that it proves that thinking cannot always be a cause of insomnia. About jetlag, I think we can sleep if we don't think about time in oversea like "I'm awake right now in that country!". If we say that we cannot sleep because we have more energy, we cannot know how much of what we have in our bodies, right? We don't know "Oh, my energy runs out in about a minute!" We are not a cellphone.(^◇^;) lol "We cannot sleep because we have more energy" is just how we think a reason why we cannot sleep, but actually we can sleep. We cannot sleep because we think that we cannot sleep in our mind. So I guess this can be solved by controlling our mind a bit more.(￣3￣) But no matter what, there are times that we cannot sleep. I believe stress causes insomnia.(￣O￣;) I guess this has not solved why stress causes insomnia? Because we cannot have a medical report about stress at a hospital. Clear results cannot be found so a medical report cannot be written. Other reasons are such as headache, stiff shoulder and pain in stomach and intestines. About these reasons, we cannot sleep because it hurts! lol Other reason I can think of is we cannot sleep because we are too tired and fatigue makes body very hot and cannot sleep. We cannot control body temperature well. So I have heard that we cannot sleep after soaking in a bathtub, that is like keeping body warm in bathtub and get in bed and keep body warm in there too. But our average is about 36 to 37 is the normal temperature but we soak in hot water right? So our body try to cool down after that right? This act makes body tired, and our brain tells body to cool down, so we cannot sleep until it finishes. If we go to bed, body gets hotter, so actually soaking in to warm water makes us sleep better. What I want to say is we can control this because insomnia is the word we created. I feel like I'm over thinking. lol We have own rhythm in our life. lol For example, me, I'm a night owl. But some people are early birds, they wake up early and sleep early. I think we cannot sleep when we cannot have our own rhythm but I guess we can sleep when we are sleepy. lol So it's not like "I have to sleep because it's night!". Well, it's difficult to act right when we feel we are sleepy...(-。-; And I think it's same as "sickness and health start with the mind". If Insomnia is a disease, mental is a part of it I believe. ......I sometimes suffer from insomnia...lol This is human.(^-^) We cannot control our mind well even we understand. It's like "What a trouble we have! We are human and this is us!" So I guess there are causes we cannot prove by theory such as mental issues. Humans are very sensitive.   Nishijima Takahiro

[sapphire-wine]

Oh my god i almost forgot to put you on the list. That would have been a tragedy. You are on the list

I'M FOOCKIN' FUMIN' I STILL WASNT ON THE LIST?? WHAT IS UP WITH YOU PEOPLE