#I think most of us are struggling these days with validation and feeling unreal and purposeless lol

[katzirra]

Just want to pop in here and wish you a Happy New Year! You've brought so much light and joy into the world this year! Reminder that you are loved and cared about and you mean so much to so many people just by being yourself. It's not what you create or do, just you as you are matter so much. Here's to an amazing new year!!!

I wish I had more enthusiasm to respond to this post right now, but thank you darling anon.

I'm not sure about all that, but I'll take your word for it lol I hope you have a wonderful new year, and then any hardships and nonsense you had to deal with this year stay behind you!

THANKS for trying to pass some positivity and light to me today lol I'll keep it close to the vest as I Go through my little mental gymnastics today.

💜💜

[crooked-wasteland]

An SA Survivor's Reading of Stolitz

I don't believe that creators should be confined to telling one type of story. The beauty of fiction is to explore worlds, emotions and scenarios that are by definition unreal. It gives a safe space to interact with extremes that we would never necessarily wish to experience in our real lives with the ultimate safeword of no longer engaging with the material.

That being said, as creators, there is an ethical awareness that must be maintained in order to tell stories of things like trauma and abuse. Being alone in a cabin in the woods with a killer, that scenario is not a pervasive subculture in our society. Whereas cases of child abuse, sexual and domestic abuse are not only real, but common. And the complexities of psychological damage that perseveres long after the traumatic events are necessary aspects to telling these stories.

If you are not consciously aware and attentive to the lasting impact these events have, you run up against the horrific possibility of retraumatizing an individual unprepared for the callous invalidation of their experience.

No one should ever be shamed for engaging with media that depicts trauma they themselves may have experienced. For many, engaging in the fiction of it is a way of processing and validating their experience. Frankly saying, if you wish to write about trauma at all, you should be writing for that audience in specific. Otherwise you are simply exploiting the horrors that real people live through and struggle with every day for some cheap drama at the risk of triggering someone whose story you are inadvertently telling.

And much like most therapy speak, the term Triggered has become appropriated and misused to the point of losing all meaning in the lexicon. According to the University of North Carolina, "A trigger is a stimulus that elicits a reaction. In the context of mental illness, "trigger" is often used to mean something that brings on or worsens symptoms. This often happens to people with a history of trauma or who are recovering from mental illness, self-harm, addiction, and/or eating disorders."

The university breaks down the types of triggers as well and gives examples as to what those subcategories mean. I highly recommend that even if you are not the sort to follow up on references, I do recommend going over the article. It offers coping suggestions as well for those who are at risk of becoming triggered and helps refocus the sense of control back to the individual.

With that said, this is where I came across the inspiration for this essay. I completely removed all information for this user because the last thing someone needs when expressing how the misappropriation of abuse triggers them is how it is their fault for being triggered. These are the original tweets this response was in reference to.

As such, I feel the empathetic need to write this essay as a sympathetic reading to this person and others who have experienced SA who find that Stolitz resonates in an undesirable and even harmful way. I think this person deserves to feel seen.

To make the argument that the relationship between Stolas and Blitz isn't fundamentally abusive requires an author-intent reading of the series. It necessitates massive leaps to fill in gaping plot holes that never clarify the story Medrano is intending to tell. This is plainly just a reading of the series as is with all the context that has been physically, actually, shown in the series and that alone.

Throughout the series, Blitz is depicted as emotionally volatile and unpredictable with low self-esteem and crippling loneliness. He is constantly hounding his employees through sexual harassment from a sense of envy over their loving relationship, and infantalizes his twenty-two year old adopted daughter through an abusive dynamic where she ranges from rude to outrightly cruel while he consistently sacrifices any personal boundaries and self-respect.

The relationship between Loona and Blitz in specific feels like a masochistic self-hatred on Blitz's part where he allows himself to be used and abused by a parasitic family member to feel wanted, showing a pure desperation to be desired by someone in any way. Loona is verbally and physically abusive to her adopted father, using terms of endearment like "Dad" as a tactic to control Blitz's behavior, rewarding him when he does something for her benefit and taking it away when she deems him embarrassing or unwanted.

Blitz's tie to Stolas in the main story comes when he is called in a vulnerable time. Hiding from Martha who is hunting him down, he explicitly tells Stolas that now is not a good time to call. Stolas, who has a visual of Blitz's situation, ignores all of it. He is unconcerned about the danger Blitz is in, instead viewing Blitz solely as a sexual object as he offers the trade of the book for sex.

Stolas is more knowledgeable of Blitz's situation than even Blitz is aware of. He not only is told that the current moment is not a good time, and Blitz's tense tone portrays a sense of anxiety, but he can physically see Blitz. It exists entirely within reason that he chose this specific moment to call while he knew Blitz was in a difficult position, using the tension to leverage a quick response that would get Stolas his way without needing to intimidate Blitz himself. Using the threat of a third party to pressure compliance from Blitz.

Come Loo Loo Land, the interactions between Blitz and Stolas are simply outright hostile. Blitz actively does not want to have a sexual encounter with Stolas and is even so untrusting of the Goetia that he is repeatedly asserting the boundary that he is not at all interested in sex, which Stolas explicitly mocks by being openly sexually suggestive to him. Everything Stolas has to say to Blitz is steeped in objectified sexuality as Blitz asserts his person, dehumanizing him to the point that Blitz is first and foremost an object of gratification. Even to the point of neglecting and humiliating his daughter, Stolas uses the excuse of spending time with her as a means of leering on Blitz.

In this episode we see Blitz has a history of being overlooked and unappreciated. His act in Loo Loo Land went nowhere and we see the first hints of his failed performance career. Over the course of the series, this hint towards a crippling lack of self esteem masked by an extroverted exterior is reinforced.

In Harvest Moon, Blitz is genuinely flustered when given recognition by Striker. He is quick to devalue his relationship with Stolas because there genuinely isn't a relationship at this point.

After having gone missing for two episodes, Stolas returns, being slightly less sexual and slightly more affectionate. It is a sudden recharacterization, but it is only for this scene. The rest of the episode once again shows how Stolas values Blitz physically in a sexualized manner and claims Blitz through the use of a pet name he repeatedly requests not to be called. In the opening scene, Blitz vocalizes that he "doesn't mind" their arrangement for the book, which could be taken at face value in regards to the first season. He does have the option to reject the agreement at any time and return the book in the context of this episode. It's why, despite still being an abuse of power dynamics overall, the relationship itself doesn't tip over into abuse. Blitz has the same amount of autonomy as Stolas at this time, before the context of season two, he has just as much power to end the agreement.

With the addition of The Circus, this retroactively is a situation of placating one's abuser. Blitz assuring Stolas that he doesn't mind the sex would be a way of asserting Stolas' complete control over the relationship and that Blitz isn't necessarily threatening the status quo by his question.

They don't actually know anything about each other, they aren't friends and don't spend time together outside of their forced meetings. Blitz doesn't know anything about Stolas and questioning the need Stolas has for his book could very well be read as a means of interrogating the agreement as a whole and figuring out why this was the arrangement.

(The argument that Blitz had any opportunity to negotiate things comes from an audience bias. It is probably the dumbest thing I have ever seen put into writing. Blitz doesn't know that he has any leverage in the relationship at all. He doesn't actually know Stolas has any feelings for him. That's kind of the whole point of the hot and cold romance slant that Medrano is trying to replicate.)

This is because the book is not the reason the relationship exists.

Blitz does not instigate sexual conduct, Stolas does by leading Blitz into a private room and locking them both inside with the impression Blitz would have sex with him. Blitz has no choice in the location or the isolation. He was caught trying to illegally break into the home for the explicit purpose of stealing the book. He was caught and is effectively at Stolas' mercy in every sense of the word. Not only is he still alive due to Stolas' whimsy, but if he tries to escape now after being shown this grace he could risk having the guards hunt him down and the second time will most likely not be so kind.

He literally does not know Stolas. They met for a day as a playdate and Blitz spent the whole time manipulating Stolas into facilitating his own robbery. There is no trust between them, there isn't even a relationship. While the doe-eyed pink vignette animated around Blitz shows that Stolas has an attraction to him, Blitz is entirely in the dark about this. Stolas' behavior is merely unpredictable and precarious from his position and limited knowledge.

(And even when placed in the context of their single day together, Blitz is still objectified by Stolas immediately, and Blitz is repulsed and forced to interact, just like when they are adults.)

(Just another side note, the argument that because someone decides to do something must mean they are not afraid is just asinine. Generally speaking, most people who commit crimes are in a state of fight or flight, it is more akin to gambling your actual life. Its a rewards and risks assessment, not a case of being sociopathically unafraid.)

It isn't until Stolas dramatically announces his desire for sex that Blitz realizes he has something that can be used to distract the Prince while he steals the book. And that's the issue with the argument that Blitz is the one willingly escalating the situation: it's not sincere. Throughout the entire sequence, Blitz isn't once sincerely interested in Stolas. He leans into the pretense to gain control of the situation, of which, might I remind you, he has had zero control over up to this point. Not only is he not interested in Stolas, but this is a bid for control from the position of helplessness. This way he is not relying on Stolas' unpredictable behavior, he is reclaiming power in the dynamic by playing into Stolas' desire.

("But Stolas says nevermind and Blitz keeps going!!"

Yeah, because he needs to maintain control of the situation. This is what power dynamics actually look like; there is a two-way push and pull. The only way he has any power is through the lens of sexuality. He needs to keep Stolas interested in him to keep his position. But throughout the scene, he is explicitly depicted as being put off by Stolas. In fact the entire reason he ties Stolas up is because he was becoming too into the act. He is shown to not be sensually performing bondage, he is trying to remove a problem.

And side-side note, I know I said I wouldn't lean into Medrano's intention or explicit dictation on how she demands her show be interpreted, but she was the one who said that The Circus and Loo Loo Land are connected in the timeline and Blitz's hostility in Loo Loo Land reads far more like a man who feels used and taken advantage of. So even the argument that Blitz was an enthusiastic participant is disproven by Medrano's own metacommentary and character interactions.)

And ultimately, it all boils down to that last moment scene. Between willingly having sex with Stolas when he is tied up or the book, Blitz makes for the door to leave. He doesn’t willingly engage in sex with Stolas. Either you can read the scene as a form of pity sex, which in the context of Medrano’s timeline and Loo Loo Land, shows Blitz was not enamored with the encounter or you have to read this as being manipulatively pressured into it. There is no way to argue Blitz has any leverage in the situation and no grounds to argue that it was mutually enjoyed.

That doesn’t even start to cover the fact that all the way to Ozzie’s, Blitz is repulsed by Stolas. When calling, he openly shows that this is something he would rather not be doing. He doesn’t have feelings for Stolas and despite just using the man who is using him, just having to deal with Stolas is distressing for him.

This is not an equal or fair relationship dynamic. It is not a mutual relationship. This is a relationship of self-preservation and coercion. And the fact is, it could have worked with very small changes to The Circus. Having the dynamic be actually mutual would have been a great start, but just properly addressing the actual dynamic and having Stolas take ownership of what he's done, and validating the fact that coercion is sexual abuse. Because out of all the sweeping changes, retcons and inconsistencies, the one aspect that has persevered throughout the show is just how trapped Blitz feels.

In Truth Seekers, Blitz’s hallucination is contradictory in its attempt to be visceral, and that is not inherently a problem. Trying to be abstract, it is normal for people to experience contradictory emotions over something. It makes sense in that way, but it needs reinforcement in the expanded narrative to tell it's story. As such I am just going to give my reading on the sequence based on my narrative and state it as fact.

The clown costume shows that Blitz sees himself as a joke, feeding into his low self-worth that no matter what he does, he is always the clown being laughed at. The murky wasteland is a reflection of his life. Devoid of anything bright or good, it is populated by dead trees and the ground is a quicksand like sludge, showing how he devours the good and extinguishes it in his own life. He kills his own happiness. Moxxie exists as a critical voice Blitz hears, telling him how stupid and awful he is to everyone around him. Blitz rejects his own self-criticism, reaffirming his self destructive victim mentality that appears when faced with the consequences of his own actions.

It's when the characters of Fizzarolli, Verosika and Striker appear that Blitz gives his regrets, insecurities and resentments voice, poorly impersonating the voices of those who saw the real him. Striker mocking Blitz’s need for companionship, how he lies to himself constantly and presents himself as independent and assured when really he sees himself as needy and pathetic.

Fizzarolli adds to it, pointing out Blitz’s failures to make it on his own, however this portion of the series should probably be considered non-canon as the newest episodes established that Fizzarolli and Blitz have not had any contact with each other since the accident. The more important line Fizzarolli says “You're going to die alone”, have been written out of the show. There would have been no time or place for Fizz to have ever spoken this to Blitz.

Then there is Verosika, who brings up Blitz’s self destructive tendencies, showing Blitz’s own abusive behaviors towards characters like Moxxie. It also suggests an explanation to why Blitz tolerates Loona, because her constant rejection of him contradicts his reactionary need to push others away, as well as feeds his self-flagillation.

It is when he endeavors to flee the reflections of the worst parts of himself that he runs into Stolas. Perched atop a pristine staircase of gold, being fanned by two silhouettes of Blitz. This shows the power imbalance in every way. Blitz doesn't even walk up the stairs, but crawls. Himself just a faceless accessory to Stolas’ desires, but everything he has intrinsically tied to the power Stolas' exerts over him. This is shown explicitly by the chains around his hands and neck, Stolas' reeling him in as he bears a grimace of reluctance. It is the most explicit representation of being trapped between two bad decisions. Either he is just the joke, the failure, the asshole, the stupid piece of shit, or he is the pet, the object, the toy. Stolas mentioning Blitz being "afraid to love" is less a suggestion that Blitz has any feelings for Stolas, but instead his psyche convincing himself that the relationship is not so exploitive. That he is not being dehumanized and abused, but on some messed up level he is being wanted and desired, which is better than the wastes below.

Maybe one could say that Blitz is being elevated out of his situation for how the feathers removed the costume and sludge, essentially wiping him clean of his worst self, providing a sense of safety. But he only has this opportunity because of Stolas, and it isn't free as shown by the feathers also becoming the chains binding him. Because at the end of the day, Stolas isn't the prize at the end of the climb to self actualization, the stairs belonged to him in the first place. To escape the horror-filled wasteland below, Blitz has to play by the rules of the owner of the stairs.

And ultimately, that isn't a story that is off-limits.

The Stolas apologist argument is why the depiction of this dynamic is triggering and harmful, not the fact that it exists in the media. Just owning the scenario and having Stolas acknowledge that he has sexually abused Blitz would have gone a long way. Instead, Medrano and the fandom have insistently represented this victim-blaming interpretation where Blitz is responsible for his own abuse. And that will never be okay. This goes all the way back to my "Not All Victims are Survivors" post. Blitz is the victim in this and his bad behaviour and own abusive actions directly correspond to the fact that he is a victim with a victim mindset. He actively lives in the middle of his abuse and has formed maladaptive strategies through manipulation, harassment, verbal abuse, and self harm. These do not remove his victim status. There is no such thing as a "Perfect Victim". And he should not have to be any sort of way in order to have that experience validated. And the issue that is at the heart of this show is that the narrative and the fanbase require a victim to be framed as delicate and hapless to circumstance with a soft and gentle personality to be a victim. To come out of abuse aggressive and harsh with sharp edges is framed as being less valid. But this outcome is normal and it's a difficult battle to work on oneself to feel safe again. It's absolutely a story worth telling.

But you first have to be interested in telling a story.

[jiikyu]

Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love.

Though be warned for they are also poisonous.

Chapter II. Fate has lead you down a path of hardships, you should be grateful to have found someone so faithful to stay by your side.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

All characters are 18+

Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ)

Y/N = Your Name

F/N = Your Full Name

E/C = Eye Color

H/C = Hair Color

Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions

First Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter Here❦

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

Turning the last page ends as another disappointment.

The blank sheet staring back at Mirio leaves a seed of uneasiness to sow and grow. He ignores it. Instead blue eyes fall to the soft glow of the clock on the nightstand of his bedroom. The digital numbers a leering reminder that he should be asleep.

2:34 AM

The Alpha nonchalantly flips the book to a close, letting the pages flutter together softly before falling shut. Pushing the U.A. Yearbook aside a tired sigh leaves him as he leans across the surface of the desk, scarred forearms resting against the cool polished wood. Mirio had been unsuccessful at finding you amongst the pictures of the past.

And he had been so eager too.

The way back to the hero dorms the blond all but shouts a rapid ‘Hello’ followed in-session by a ‘See you later!’ to a rather startled Tamaki. Once home, Mirio rummages through the back of his closet for the albums and — Nothing. It just really put a damper on his mood.

He just wanted to see your smile.

Only a handful of hours have passed since your meeting and, well... He hadn’t quite been the same since. The light flutter of his heart had yet to cease.

Even as he told Aizawa about the incident with Eri it just wouldn’t stop beating.

Mirio kind of hopes it never does.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

A week.

A full week drags by without Mirio catching so much as a glimpse of you. But it’s okay, it would take a lot more then a measly few days to shake his faith.

And when it does finally happen, oh boy, is he stopped dead in his tracks. Deep pools of blue glue to you the moment you fall into his peripheral vision.

To Mirio — When the butterfly kisses return they only validate the swirl of thoughts and emotions that have refused to leave him since your meeting. Swarming his chest just as they had when he first saw you. Protecting Eri. Wings knocking against his ribs in a sickly sweet kind of way.

Thoughts that maybe, just maybe, the two of you had been meant to cross paths.

He spots you seated in a corner of the open U.A. library. Seated by a window the sun bathes your H/C locks in a warm glow, deep into a textbook with a scribble filled notebook by your side. So preoccupied you don’t even notice his staring. It’s all becoming very clear to him how important your studies — How important heroism is to you.

To someone of the untrained eye it probably wouldn’t have been obvious, but he takes notice. Had seen the way you, a small quirkless Omega, protected Eri... Something about it all had stolen his breath away.

But it hadn’t ended at that.

A single tear.

Never before has Mirio been overtaken with the desire to sweep someone off their feet. Never before has he been consumed by the need to run his thumb over someones cheek, catching any tears that dare to spill further. Instead, the Alpha did the only other thing he could’ve, used his scent to calm an Omega. And you had responded.

All of this has been on loop in his head for the past week and here you were sitting alone in the study, in the flesh.

There’s no time to waste, he’s wasted so much already.

“Y/N!”

When your eyes leave the block of text you had been oh so concentrated on you’re met with warm oceanic irises.

“Mirio-?”

You barely have time to register the blur of a waving hand before you realize the blond has already taken the unoccupied seat to your left. He’s fast!

You probably look dumbfounded, E/C eyes wide but you’re quick to collect yourself. But actually, you’re happy to see the enthusiastic blond again.

“I was wondering if I would get see you again, this school is enormous.” His voice is just as lively as you remember and that signature aroma of ocean with the faintest hint of citrus reaches you again.

It’s oddly welcoming.

“Yeah it’s a maze here, I’m still getting used to it myself.” You’re ashamed to admit that you’ve gotten lost more than once already.

“You know, Eri told me how nice you had been to her. Just the other day she asked me if I had seen you at school.” You notice a change in his expression, the smile never leaves him, it’s so slight you’re not even sure it happened at all. “She’s awfully shy and for good reason, the poor girl has been through more than most. So she struggles to open up with people but, I guess she really took a liking to you and I just want to emphasize how important that is.”

And how much that means to me.

The image of timid Eri asking about you is enough to melt your heart and the fact that you were able to leave an impression sends you over the moon. And it shows when a shaky warm smile overtakes you. “Thank you for telling me. Please tell her I said hi, that she’s very brave and that — I miss her too.”

Your smile has Mirios heart doing flips and he has to remind himself to take a breath. If his head wasn’t screwed on he’d probably lose it!

“Don’t worry, you can trust me to pass on the message.” The chuckle that escapes the Alpha rumbles in his chest, large hand running through his sunshine blond locks when he says. “Hey who knows, maybe one day you’ll see her again and you can tell her yourself.”

“Yeah maybe.”

“Wait — Come to think of it, what grade are you in Y/N?”

You pause from your thoughts. “Senior, why?”

“Senior? I’m just surprised is all, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on campus before.” Or the acceptable way of saying: You’re not in any of his yearbooks.

“Oh, that’s because I transferred from Tagara this year.”

Ah. Of course! It clicks and he wants to scold himself at his own foolishness.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why the sudden transfer? You know, since this is your last year.” Mirios voice is one of genuine curiosity.

...

You fidget with the pencil at your fingertips, unsure how to answer. The conversations between the two of you so far have only been positive experiences. You might even go as far to say that his words have helped uproot some of your insecurities, though the roots are dug deep and no one single conversation could ever undue the years of self doubt tying you down.

But this man, who radiates like a beacon of hope, is someone you could see yourself trusting — And before you know it the words you were unable to find escape on their own accord.

“To be honest U.A. has always been my dream school. I knew I never stood a chance without a quirk... But every year I would submit a request for a transfer and every year it would be declined.” You’re not sure what it is that compels you to open up with someone you would basically consider a stranger. Maybe it’s the dusty library air getting to you or maybe it’s the way Mirio looks at you with complete and utter focus.

You’re not sure.

“Then they opened up a business course that was attainable for people like me.” You remember opening up the letter and the tears of happiness that blurred your vision. Even now, sitting in the U.A. Library it’s still so unreal.

“It’s cheesy but... I like to think it was fate that sent me that Acceptance Letter.” One last shot at a dream.

Fate.

Mirio’s starting to believe it was fate as well.

“I think so too.”

His words break you yet again.

This time you’re not surprised to see that sincere smile, when you’re so used to facing judgment.

Mirio has yet to falter. Not once.

And your pulse drums loudly against your ears for reasons other than fear.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

One day you just sort of realize it.

That with Mirio around life feels a lot more fast-paced. It’s a speed you haven’t quite adjusted to yet, but if you’re being honest with yourself it’s a change that is growing on you. Growing on you fast as weeds.

Maybe that was just a side effect of being around someone so earnest and gentle.

After the first time you two ran into each other you had exchanged numbers and slowly but surely Mirio was becoming a constant in your life.

You had learned a lot about him.

One very key thing being that he had his quirk stolen.

[naturaldisasterfanfiction]

31.

Placing Fenty in her crib in our bedroom, it’s easier for us that she is in the bedroom rather then travelling around to her room. I am honestly at a stage where I think this is all so unreal for us, I can’t believe that I am a mother to a beautiful girl, I am a mother. Something I gave up on a while ago, I thought it wouldn’t have ever happened for me and it did, I am married on top of that to the love of my life and I wouldn’t change that for the world. I am finally thinking of me and I love it, I am entering a new year being a mother and wife, it’s so surreal when just last year I was crying to Mel that I am lonely and I have nobody, it was the perfect mistake to us. Fenty is very on time with her feeding, like her night feed is on time, she will wake up and then play up a little and then just want to feed to then go to sleep, the girl can sleep. If anything she is not like Chris, she sleeps well, and I am thankful she does sleep and doesn’t cry all of the time. Dennis and my mother have parted ways for the New Year, they have gone home, so that leaves just Chris and I with our daughter, it’s been a weird feeling to feel. It’s quiet and I don’t think Chris is dealing well with it, things are settled. But I give him his space, since Dennis went two days ago, he spent the first day on my hip, I mean like he was following me and I tried to do things with him, but I fall asleep, I am tired. My body is still healing, the day after I couldn’t find him and he was alone for the most of it but he’s not sleeping either now, which that has started again. When Fenty was crying and I didn’t feel the bed move I knew he wasn’t in the bed. Chris doesn’t like silence; he doesn’t like to be in silence and then also he has so much going on in his mind. I have never asked him if he takes his medication, I totally don’t do that with him. I have so much on my mind, I know things are quiet, but it will get better for him, like the home will start to get busy when the team is back.

It’s so hard, it’s so fucking hard to know where Chris is in this house and it’s bugging me. I have to wait it out until he comes to me, I am going to have to put some sort of tag on him to locate him because I can’t find him. I stifled out a yawn, I am trying to watch Real housewives, but I am failing at this, I have my daughter swaddled up next to me as I laid out on the couch, I am falling asleep again. I jerked at the sound of my phone blaring out ringing “Jesus” grabbing my phone from the side, Tina is calling me on New Year’s Eve too, surprised she isn’t drunk somewhere “hello bitch” answering the call “I can’t wait to see you! I miss you so much. I wish we knew you would be pregnant, then we could have had one last drink blowout” I chuckled at Tina “miss me huh, well I am going to be a reserved woman now thank you. I am married and a mother, my daughter don’t need to see her mother’ ass hanging now” I missed Tina “I will give it a year but anyways, erm what is Chris doing?” she didn’t even call for me “honestly, I wish I knew, he is somewhere in this house. I should have got an apartment; I can’t locate him or have the energy to find him” I need to start actually figuring out his spots in this home “I didn’t really ask what is he doing but like what is he doing on Instagram?” I breathed out “I don’t know, I don’t look at that shit Tina. Please don’t tell me it’s stupid shit” I hope he isn’t being dumb “there is whole battle going on with him and Drake, Chris did start it by commenting on a post and it was a old picture of you and Drake, he said that you all think I am the bad guy when Drake wrote a diss song on Rihanna. Drake wish he had a black child; his child is albino. And now like it’s kicking off, Jen text me and I called you” what is he playing at “god, why. Oh my god, Jen knows so someone as personally contacted her because she doesn’t check for it, what is being said? I don’t need this shit” I am just so fucking annoyed now.

I am going to not snap on him, but I want to know why, leave fucking Drake alone “sorry I am back, so Chris started with the albino thing, he commented on that post of you and Drake, then the IG gossip blogs saw it. Then Drake responded back but he posted a picture of your matching tattoos and said it was a great night. Then Chris went on his page and commented saying you, wait a minute just getting it now. So yes he put, you are old news nigga, how you saved pictures of a woman that don’t want you. Then Drake commented back saying you seem unsecure, is there some issues at home which Chris went on a full blown rant on how he is going to beat Drake for posting that, the thing is Chris is looking like the bad guy in this even though he made some valid points. He quoted a line from the diss track, but Drake denied it now, he is making out that never happened, Chris is losing his mind. He is currently doing it now; Chris is going back and forth with him. Jen didn’t mention who contacted her. She just said that Robyn should have had him under control” shaking my head sighing out “I am not controlling him Tina; he is free to do what he likes. I would never control him, I don’t know what idea you all have got thinking I control Chris, that I need to put a gag on him because it is not that and never will be” I kind of snapped on Tina “Robyn, I didn’t say that. Jen said it, but I think someone else has mentioned it” that annoyed me “he is my husband, he is not a dog. I am not his carer either, yes Chris shouldn’t have started but he is defending himself now he is making him sound crazy. Tina, just tell Jen that I want to know who said control him, but anyways. I have an appointment to go too, talk soon” disconnecting the call.

Zeus laid his head on my foot, I was supposed to go and see to Chris, but he will find me. My stomach hurts a little “you are so hairy, Chris needs to sort that out” Zeus looks fed up, I would move him away, but he doesn’t seem happy and he is also on my couch “where is Chris Zeus, you know where he is?” I asked him, this dog knows what I am saying. I have an appointment in an hour so he better hurry up “I literally came into this room but didn’t see you, I went all the way upstairs” Chris walked around the couch “where have you been all day Chris!? Seriously, and all night” Chris sat down but at a distance “in the office area thing, next to the garage. I been spray painting it” my eyes widened “what!? You’re joking right?” he shook his head without a care, he is being serious “not this house Chris, I didn’t want you to do that. What if we don’t stay here forever then what!? Is that what you been doing all that time” he nodded his head and clasped his hands together “smoke a blunt, paint. Just do what I want, then repaint it” staring at Chris in annoyance “so you decided to make a mess in this home, I am not having this home like the shit in your house!” I spat “it’s not, it’s one place, nobody will see. What do you want me to do all day, stare at you?” getting up from the couch as Zeus jumped off “well you could tell me, just tell me you are doing that instead of just doing what you like” I hissed out sitting up “well I went out in the morning, got them and came back” I didn’t even know he did that “why wasn’t I told?” Chris laughed, he finds it funny, but I don’t “you were asleep, man. I didn’t come to argue, I know you got an appointment” Chris got back up from the couch “walk off, we still have so much to speak on. Go on” waving him off, I swear to god.

Chris decided to come into the bedroom, I mean he has to eventually see me “have you stopped doing all that shit on Instagram?” zipping up the baby bag “I can’t take a shit without you knowing” I laughed shaking my head “what is wrong with you? You know what, just take the baby bag and go outside. We need to go; I don’t have the time to be just stood here hearing shit from you. Has the driver put the car seat in?” Chris shrugged, his lack of care disappeared, I mean where the fuck did it go “thank you Chris, really I mean it” picking up Fenty from the bed “the bag Chris” walking around the bed, I know Chris is struggling he probably feels like he has no freedom but it’s not that, he is fighting me on this now, I can tell he is. The fact he is going out without me knowing, I like to know what he does. I mean first of all I am his wife, and second of all he can easily go off the rails and end up taking drugs. I can’t let Chris slip, I can’t have this because then it will be I told you so, I know it’s not going to be plain sailing, I know for a fact it takes work and I am here for that but he needs to just try and help a long the way. Just tell me so I can make it right, try and make it better for him to be here. I understand he is struggling; I really do.

It’s been a while since I have been out of the house, but all I can think of is Chris and his behaviour “Robyn” looking way from the car window “mhmm, yeah?” I am not impressed of course “I just don’t feel like doing shit, my mood is low, and I am irritated. I just want to be zoned out and be alone, I am trying to break this mood by thinking of the good, but I can’t. Even now I just feel like I am not here, I feel like I am battling two parts of my mind, one part is wanting me to jump on a flight and go back to Cali and go back to normality and the other part is wanting to just cry and bang my head against a wall because my mind is racing. It’s really racing, and I can’t stop it, I need too” he spoke to me without being an ass “what made you feel that way Chris? I need you to tell me where I go wrong to help you” I asked “I just feel like I am not in control and in my mind I feel like it is a bad thing, it’s like mind games. I want you to take control but then there is another half where I want to be in control” shaking my head “you are in control Chris; I am only guiding you. Who said about this control shit!?” I have heard it a few times now “Ant messaged me, Jay Brown emailed him saying that he is not my manager no more, that Rihanna is. If I am to be married to you then I have to be under Roc Nation. Ant said it’s all games and control, she is controlling you and I said it isn’t and that plays on my mind” Jay Brown is a fucking liar “I didn’t even say that he mentioned about wanting you! That bastard” they want to play games “I am no good for you, like you love me, but you deserved a man to guide you” frowning at him “no, this is your mind talking. It’s not that Chris, too much is happening, and you can’t process it. I wanted a man which I have got, they are lying to you, I am not controlling you” they want Chris to seem like a little bitch and it’s not even that, they are playing on his mind “do you think that I am?” I have to ask Chris “no I don’t but shit just plays on my mind Robyn, it’s hard fighting your own demons on your own” reaching over touching his arm “you’re not on your own Chris, you got me. I am here for you, even if I am tired I am here for you. I see the change Chris, I do” this is what has been irritating Chris.

I filled out all of the paperwork while Chris sat with Fenty in the waiting room, I though there is no reason to just make them wait around while I did it. I had to fill out Chris’ part too which was funny to me because I knew everything, I had to even mention the Bipolar, but I did it while they waited in the room “is she awake?” Chris is getting her out of the car seat “yeah, she just woke up now” nodding my head “it’s ok, get out there” Chris has become a little shy with doing it now I am here “I am not judging you Chris. I want you to be comfortable” too late now, Chris is not doing it “why did you do that? It’s ok you know, I am not judging you” Chris is so deflated about things, I hate that for him. Reaching into the car seat “my little angel is awake, awww” kissing her little cheek before resting her over my shoulder, Chris placed the blanket over her “when we get back home we will talk, because you caused some shit on Instagram too” lightly rubbing Fenty’ back “they tagged me in some shit Robyn, the caption stated that you loved him and that I don’t deserve you. I am sick of seeing that fucking shit so I said it, they playing in my face I hate it” rolling my eyes.

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Meeting Miss Morgan | Word Count: 4717 | Rating (for entire fic): 18+!!!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female OC | Chapter: 06 of 08 |  Link to Masterlist

Ever since Mrs. Henderson's little announcement, life changes a lot for Julie and Arthur. Julie spends most nights at Arthur's cabin, and they're almost always together except for the times Arthur leaves to run some errands for Mr. Henderson. They even head to a few of the places Julie so desperately wanted to draw. Julie always wants Arthur to sketch them as well, but he spends most of the time sitting there and watching her.

In the mornings, they're no longer the first ones up. It's hard to get out of bed when you'd rather cuddle up to the person you love. Arthur has never said so to Julie, but he knows he's completely gone for her. At times, he feels like his heart might explode when she's just smiling at him.

Once in a while, Arthur still feels guilty for not telling Julie about his past, but he left the gang to start fresh, and he's doing his best to keep that promise. Out of habit, he still brings his guns when riding out farther away from the farm, but he's never had to use them and doesn't plan on doing so if he can help it.

This morning begins in the spirit of a new life. Julie's still asleep next to Arthur, so he gives her a careful kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed. He dresses as quietly as possible and heads outside, breathing in the fresh morning air. His mind is at peace, knowing that all he has to do today is some mundane farm work.

Arthur's about to head back inside to make coffee and wake up Julie when he spots Mrs. Henderson coming his way. There's purpose in her stride, reminding him painfully of Ms. Grimshaw.

"Mr. Morgan," she says from a few paces away, "would you mind coming with me? There's a visitor for you at the house."

Arthur's heart drops, and he has the urge to head into the cabin and get his guns. "A visitor? For me?"

"Believe me, we were as surprised as you are. He says his name is John Marston and that you were friends."

If Arthur was honest with himself, he feared that this day might come, the past catching up with him. He figured that maybe some dedicated Pinkerton's might find his trail or even bounty hunters. That it's someone he'd actually like to see makes it even worse.

"I'm coming," Arthur says, following Mrs. Henderson back to the house. 

All the way, his mind is racing. It's not like he moved millions of miles away, but he still wonders how John tracked him down. Besides, he would have guessed that the gang moved on by now.

Coming closer to the house, the picture in front of him becomes unreal. There's John, in his familiar clothes and hat, guns around his hips. He's like a ghost from the past, shimmering next to Mr. Henderson, who watches him like a hawk. As they approach, John actually smiles. 

"Arthur," he says, stepping up to him, and Arthur can't help but draw him into a hug.

"John, it's good to see you."

Their friendly greeting seems to set Mr. Henderson at ease. "We'll be inside," he says, ushering Mrs. Henderson to the door.

"Thank you," Arthur says after he let go of John. 

They watch the two of them head inside before John turns to Arthur. "They seem like nice people."

"They are," Arthur says, wishing that he could tell John about them.

He'd give everything to sit down with John and let him know how peaceful life can be. He wants to talk about Julie, his work with the horses, and how he draws so much more than before. It's not so easy, though. John's not here for that.

"How did you find me?" Arthur asks instead.

John shrugs. "I know you."

Arthur has to admit it's a valid answer. He'd have a good chance of finding John if things were the other way around.

"And why did you find me?"

"I really wanted to leave you alone," John says, guilt tainting his voice, "but things got bad. It's Dutch. He's completely off the rails, trusting Micah more than anybody else. Without Hosea-"

John doesn't finish the sentence. They lost Hosea a while back during a job, and Arthur knew that it would impact Dutch. They've been good together, but apart, it was only a matter of time until things turned sour.

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"You're just missing, Arthur," John says with a sigh. "You might call me that, but I ain't an idiot. The girls are afraid. They don't trust me enough to believe that things are going to be okay. Sadie and Charles think about leaving, Trelawny's in the wind, and Micah brought in two other guys whose throats I would cut the first chance I get. We need you. You're the only one Dutch might still listen to."

With every word, a familiar darkness eats its way into Arthur's soul. He hoped so much that it could stay away, but that's not how life works, not for people like him. There's some invisible justice at work, and he's done too much evil to deserve anything good, no matter how long and far he runs.

"What's his plan?" Arthur asks, not really wanting to know. There's always some grand scheme at play with Dutch. A fairytale that he's so good at telling all of them that he believes it himself.

"Bank heist," John says, his doubts about that plan right there in his voice. "One big thing that gives us enough money to leave, get on a boat to some island, and disappear."

It sounds like a dream, it always does, but Arthur heard it too many times. He left because all he could see were nightmares.

"Arthur?" a soft voice says behind him, and in his mind, Arthur falls into that dark pit that opened up inside of him. It's all over now.

"Jules," he says, and she steps up, taking her place right next to him, her arm brushing against his. The comfort the touch usually brings is replaced by pain now. "This is John, an old friend."

Julie's eyes grow big, and she needs a moment to recover before she smiles at John. Arthur can't blame her. He's never had it in him to mention John in front of her.

"It's so nice to meet you," Julie says, "I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."

"Likewise," John says, getting as close to a smile as he can before his eyes wander to Arthur.

Maybe Arthur doesn't give the boy enough credit. He can tell from John's gaze that he understands quite well who Julie might be. Still, that doesn't change what he's asking of him. 

"Give me an hour," Arthur says.

John nods and taps his hat at Julie before walking back to his horse. Julie turns to Arthur. "What are you up to?"

It's such an innocent question, as if Arthur would just spend a little time with an old friend and then be back for dinner. The darkness is consuming more and more of him, and Arthur just hopes he won't taint Julie when he takes her hand. "Let's go back to the cabin."

Julie follows Arthur, but he can feel that she's uneasy now. He would do anything to go back to just minutes ago. He could have woken her up and spend a little more time in bliss before reality caught up to him. 

They sit down on the steps leading up to the porch, and Arthur suddenly remembers Colm O'Driscoll. The few times Arthur landed himself in jail, he always had people to bust him out. He's never been close to actually fearing the noose, but now he thinks that this is what it must feel like. The sudden realization that in a few seconds, they pull that lever, and your life is over. Arthur has to pull it himself.

"John's not just an old friend," Arthur says, holding Julie's hand still in his. He's desperate to keep that connection as long as possible. "He's part of the gang I ran with for almost all my life."

"A gang?" Julie asks, disbelief in her voice. "Like outlaws?"

"Very much like outlaws," Arthur says, shame consuming him as pictures run through his mind. 

Poor people working hard on their farms, struggling to survive as he came in to take away the little they had. Frightened townspeople, passengers on trains, and chanceless coach drivers trying to protect their freight. So many people and Arthur has been the source of their misery. 

He doesn't deserve to hide that from Julie. She needs to know just how worthless and horrible he is. A feral animal, with not a single piece of goodness or humanity in his body. He wants her to see that it's his fault, that he tricked her into believing that he's worth something.

"I don't have these guns for protection," Arthur says. "I threatened people, stole from them, hurt them, and killed them."

"Arthur," Julie gasps, her voice so full of disbelief that it pains Arthur to even sit this close to her. He lets go off her hand. He's never been worthy of being close to someone so pure, let alone touch her.

"I'm sorry," Arthur says. Although it doesn't do much, he at least believes it.

Julie looks out over the farm, taking a deep breath. "You're going back with your friend?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Arthur swallows a lump in his throat, thinking about all the people he left behind. "John has a family, a wife, and a son. There are girls at the camp that are like sisters to me. I abandoned them at the worst possible time. Our leader, he… They need my help."

Julie nods along to his words, and Arthur wishes he would have had her strength at those turning points in his life where he would have needed it the most. He's always been weak, making the easy decisions. 

"You're not coming back, are you?" Julie says, her voice wavering for the first time.

Arthur shakes his head. "All of this is like a dream. It's not for me."

Tears are welling up in Julie's eyes, but she quickly wipes them away. "You knew. That's why you acted so strange after the kiss. You knew that this could happen."

"I feared it might," Arthur admits. "I never meant to hurt you. It's another mistake I made, and somebody else has to pay for."

Julie presses her lips together, looking out over the farm as she holds back more tears. Arthur doesn't know what else to say. There's no excuse for what he did other than him being selfish. He heads inside, his surroundings out of focus as if he's in a dream. He packs his clothes, leaving the new shirt he bought behind. It belongs to another life.

With his gun belt around his hips, Arthur walks back outside. Julie is standing a few feet away from the cabin, staring into the distance. The picture seers itself into Arthur's brain, a constant reminder of yet another failure in his life. He walks over to her, not yet ready to leave.

When Arthur approaches, Julie turns around and throws her arms around his neck. The touch makes his heart shatter in a million pieces. He cups her face in his hand, doing his best to wipe away her tears before kissing her. It's another selfish act, but Arthur can't help it. This is the last thing he steals from her.

They touch their foreheads together, just holding on to each other until Arthur can't take it anymore. "I'm so so sorry, darling," he says before letting go of Julie.

He turns around and walks away, doing his hardest not to look back. If he did, he wouldn't be able to leave.

--------

Arthur is sure that the Hendersons' opinion of him changed quickly as he told them that he was leaving. Still, Mr. Henderson insisted that Arthur took one of the horses. On his way out, Arthur left money for it on a small table near the door.

Then he headed into the stables. After saying goodbye to Jasper, Arthur rode out, his eyes falling onto the barn. He knew he should have felt something, but there was only emptiness inside of him. Arthur joined John at the gates that lead into the farm, the fence he built standing strong on either side. It's going to be a constant reminder of him intruding into the lives of decent people until it finally rots away like the thing that used to be his soul.

"Arthur!" 

Dutch's voice snaps like a whip, bringing Arthur back to the present. They're in St. Denise, right in front of the bank, getting ready for their last big score. It turned out that John was wrong. Nothing that Arthur said could convince Dutch not to do this. Now, all that's left to do for him is to jump into the fray with the other men.

"Dutch?" Arthur asks, trying not to sound as uninterested as he feels.

"Are you with us?"

Arthur checks the faces of the other men. Charles doesn't like the plan either, Lenny and Sean might have their opinions but still trust enough in the others to follow their lead, Bill and Javier seem ready to go, and Arthur doesn't care to even look at Micah. John makes a face as if he wants to turn around and walk away right this second, an excellent example of how Arthur feels himself. Something just doesn't seem right. 

They rode in as quietly as possible, but Arthur still felt as if the eyes of every lawman in the city were on them. This is going to be the thing that sets them free or dooms them all. Arthur doesn't want to take the chance, but it's not like he's got anything to lose. If this is the noose coming his way, then so be it. He doesn't deserve it any other way.

"Of course I'm with you," Arthur says, and Dutch nods.

"Let's go, gentlemen."

They storm the bank, quickly taking control over the rooms and ushering all the customers in one corner. Dutch gets the manager to open up the first safe when there's some commotion outside.

"We got company!" Bill shouts, and Arthur presses himself against one of the walls next to a window at the front.

"Police?" Dutch asks, waving his gun to keep the bank manager busy.

Arthur takes a quick look, and his heart sinks. "Pinkertons," he growls. 

There's no way they just happened to be in the city. Arthur doesn't know how, but they must have gotten wind of their plan. It could be that they found the camp and waited for a good opportunity to catch them red-handed. 

Arthur looks over to John, the same thought clearly on his face. What if they got Jack and Abigail? "We need to get out of here!" he shouts, more at Arthur than anybody else.

"You got some dynamite on you?" Arthur asks Bill. The guy is crazy enough to bring some along on any occasion. 

Bill throws it over to him, and Arthur crouches down to get out of sight and make his way through the room. Dutch must understand what he's planning on doing. He cocks his gun and aims at one of the windows. "Keep 'em busy, boys!"

The windows in the front burst as the shooting starts and a few surprised Pinkerton's fall to the ground before they get their bearings and return the fire. Arthur preps one of the outer walls with the dynamite, hoping against hope that they might be able to get away from there. Getting as far away as possible, Arthur shoots the dynamite, and with a booming crash, it rips a hole in the wall.

Arthur takes a peek outside, spotting a ladder. "I'll give you cover from the roof," he shouts before climbing it.

From here, he manages to take out a few Pinkertons who've been firing from the building on the opposite side. Then he tries his best to clean the street. Lenny and Sean make their way up to him, joining in. Under their cover, the others follow as well.

Dutch waves them over to the other side of the roof. "Let's go, we have to get away from here!"

Arthur is about to follow him when his eyes wander over the small group of men. "Where's John?"

"Got shot," Bill grunts, about to pass Arthur to get over to Dutch, but Arthur grabs him.

"Is he dead?" 

Bill shrugs his shoulders, wringing his arm free, and Dutch is the first one to jump to the next roof, waving them over. "Come on, Arthur. You can't help him."

Arthur doesn't think for a second. He heads down the ladder, and Charles goes back to his spot on the roof. "I'll cover you!" he shouts.

The inside of the bank is a mess, bullets still flying. There are shards of glass everywhere, and a layer of dust hangs in the air from the explosion. Arthur coughs, barely able to see anything. 

"John?" he shouts.

"Here," comes a muffled grunt.

Arthur follows the voice and finds John leaning behind one of the counters, gun still at the ready. Blood is soaking one of his pant legs. 

"How bad?" Arthur asks, prompting John to shrug his shoulders.

"Don't think I can walk."

Arthur doubts that if John has trouble being on his feet, he'll be able to climb a ladder, but there's no way in hell he'll just leave him here. Arthur takes off his bandana and wraps it tightly around John's leg to slow down the bleeding. Then he grabs John under his arms to get him up. Together, they manage to get outside.

Arthur points to the ladder. "Think you can get up there?"

"I can try," John grunts, determination on his face.

He doesn't get far, though. A bullet hits the wall next to his face, and Arthur pulls him aside. Charles takes out the shooter before leaning over the rim of the roof. "There's more coming, I can't keep them away for long."

Arthur takes a step to the ladder and gets under fire immediately. The Pinkertons won't give them a chance to get away like this.

"We'll find another way!" he shouts up to Charles, who doesn't look happy at all.

"I'll go with you!"

"No," Arthur objects. He doesn't want to have more blood on his hands. "Give us cover a bit longer and then get out of there. Make sure Dutch takes care of the others."

Charles nods, his expression is grim. "Take care."

Arthur pulls John along the alley, trying to remember the streets. There's got to be another way out of there. The sounds behind them become muffled as they put more distance between themselves and the Pinkertons. Then they turn a corner, and Arthur stops dead in his tracks, John's weight almost pushing him over. 

Three Pinkertons are heading their way. They stop just as abruptly, their eyes growing big as they spot the two outlaws.

"Just walk away," Arthur says, trying to sound calm rather than threatening. "Nobody needs to get hurt."

Two of the Pinkertons share a look, but one reaches for his gun. He drops to the ground a second later, John's gun still pointed at him while Arthur aims his gun at the other two. "Offer still stands."

The two of them back away slowly, too scared to turn their backs on them. As soon as they disappear into a side alley, Arthur and John cross the street, heading for the stables. If they want to get out of there, they'll need horses.

They come close, but either the two men ratted them out or others heard the shot. The street in front of them holds a few police officers who check the side alleys. Arthur lets go of John, who leans heavily against a crate on the sidewalk, then creeps up on one of the officers. He manages to take him out, but two others come back from the alley, immediately attacking Arthur.

He has to take a few hits before he can land one himself, struggling to keep sight of both men. They try to surround him, lowering his chances while also taking away John's opportunity to shoot without hitting Arthur. Finally, one of them grabs Arthur from behind, holding his arms back while the other one hits him in the stomach. Arthur loses all air and might have caved, but then a shot hits close to one of the officers.

The two policemen get worried enough to check for the shooter, giving Arthur a chance to fill his lungs. With a grunt, he lifts his feet up, kicking the man in front of him at full force, pushing himself and the other man back. The second they're far enough apart, John shoots one of them while Arthur lands on the other. They both need a second to recover, but then Arthur turns around, knocking the man out.

Taking a few more deep breaths, Arthur looks up, but before he can access the situation, a foot is already kicking his side, making him roll over. Two Pinkertons are looking down on him, grinning like they just won a prize. 

 "Now we've got you," one of them says, hitting Arthur square in the face.

Arthur coughs, tasting blood on his lips. Still, he smiles at the two men. "Sure, but he's also got you."

Two shots echo through the street, blood spraying Arthur on the ground. He wants nothing more than just rest there, but they still have a long way to go. Arthur forces himself to get up and quickly hurries over to John.

"Nice shooting," Arthur says, and John looks him over.

"You look like shit."

Arthur laughs but immediately has to cough again. There's a good chance he's got a broken rib. "Let's get the hell outta here."

At least their luck turns at the stables. There's only one young stable boy who's so afraid that they don't even have to take him out. He just hands over the rains and helps Arthur to get John up on the horse. They head outside and make their way along the street. It stays quiet until they're almost out of the city. Policemen and Pinkertons alike line the street, covering the exit. 

They could turn around but Arthur doubts that it'll look any different around the city. "I'll ride, you shoot," he says.

John growls behind him. "See you on the other side, Morgan."

---------

Arthur has no idea how they made it through. His whole body is aching, and he feels like he's bleeding everywhere. It's hard to tell which blood is his, though. Abigail screamed when she saw Arthur and John coming her way. 

The Pinkertons did find the camp, but with Sadie shooting up the place, Abigail assumes that most of the gang got away. Sadie took the girls, but Abigail and Jack stayed behind in a hidden cave, a rendezvous place she and John agreed upon if shit went south. 

"So, what now? Should we look for Dutch and the others?" John asks while Abigail tries to put a makeshift bandaid on his leg.

Arthur never thought he'd say this, but right now, he couldn't care less about Dutch. He was ready to leave John behind, and who knows who else he would have sacrificed. 

"Forget about Dutch," he says, "I just hope the others get away."

Both John and Abigail stare at him. "What about loyalty?" John asks.

"Be loyal to what matters," Arthur says, looking over to Jack.

"Then what do we do?" Abigail asks. "We have nowhere to go, and John needs a doctor. You both do."

Arthur's heart hurts at the thought, but he can't think of another place than Henderson's farm. On his own, he would have found another way. With Jack and Abigail, they can't risk anything, and Arthur's not sure how much more John can take.

"I know a place," Arthur says before helping John up. "We'll go back to the farm."

"You think they'll help us?" John asks, doubt in his voice.

Arthur thinks of the last time he saw Julie. "God, I hope so."

---------

The second the door of the farmhouse opens, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are all over them, sending a farmhand to fetch the doctor for John. Mrs. Henderson gets fresh clothes for Abigail and Jack and makes something to eat while they change. Mr. Henderson prepares a room for John and tries to get him comfortable while Arthur's sitting in a chair, trying not to fall asleep. He's somewhere far away when he hears a familiar voice.

"I heard a noise. What's going-?" Julie interrupts herself, and when Arthur looks up, she's standing in the doorframe, staring at him out of wide eyes.

"We have some guests who need a little help," Mr. Henderson says, pushing a pillow behind John's back to make him more comfortable.

Arthur can't take his eyes away from Julie. Seeing her again breaks him in a way he's never felt before. He wants to apologize for coming back, explaining himself, and running as far away as possible. He's just too goddamn tired for any of it.

Julie walks over to him and takes his hands, pulling him up. "Come on."

She leads him to her room and forces him to sit on the bed. Arthur wants to protest, but he has no fight left in him. Julie takes off his boots before getting him out of his shirt and jeans. "I'll be right back," she says, her voice soothing and warm.

All Arthur can do is sit and breathe, and Julie comes back with a bowl of hot water and a small bag. She starts with his face, wiping away blood and dirt before washing him all over. Arthur's too exhausted to feel guilty, relishing in every touch. When he's somewhat clean, Julie uses the small bag's contents to take care of Arthur's wounds, the sharp stench of alcohol wafting through the room.

When she's done, Julie runs a hand over Arthur's hair. He feels like melting, shame, and affection fighting a war inside of him. If he had a wish, it would be to fall asleep in her arms and just stay there for weeks.

"What happened?" Julie asks.

Arthur takes a deep breath. "The gang is done. It's over."

 A while back, he was sure that the Van der Linde gang's end would be sad news to him, but now he feels relieved. Arthur just hopes that the former members can find a better way in the world now.

Julie carefully pushes him back by his shoulder to get him to lie down before doing the same next to him, her hand resting on his chest. "Sleep," she says.

"Thank you," Arthur manages to say, then sleep takes him in a warm embrace.

------

"I hope you planned on saying goodbye," Julie says behind Arthur.

He turns around, baffled that there's not the least bit of anger in her. "I did. I'm sorry that I came back at all. I just thought John and his family could use help, and this seemed like the best place."

"They seem like decent people, just like you," Julie says. "So why can't you stay?"

"I would want you back," Arthur admits, his voice barely audible.

"And?"

The thought that Julie might take him back eats away at Arthur. Happiness seems just a few steps away, but he learned his lesson. Arthur gets on his horse.

"I don't deserve you," he says. "I don't deserve any of this."

"What if I say you do?" Julie asks, her voice desperate now.

Arthur shakes his head. "You're too kind, Jules. This place needs someone like you. Nobody needs me."

Julie looks like she might object, but Arthur doesn't give her a chance. He taps his hat at her, riding on. He's done all he could. Now it's time to let go.

[mattyfm]

new york’s very own matthew oliver was spotted on broadway street in converse . your resemblance to luke hemmings is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-fourth birthday bash . while living in nyc ,  you’ve been labeled as being temperamental , but also benevolent . i guess being a gemini explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be bubbly laughter, the smell of fresh coffee, & long drives to watch the sunset  .  ( cis male & he/him  )  +  ( monique , 20 , she/her , pst . )

my name is monique i’m both the baddest and saddest bitch you’ll ever meet and i have NEVER written a concise intro in my life, so be prepared for a lot of jumping around, incomplete thoughts, and information you didn’t ask for. without further ado let me introduce you to my angel boy matthew oliver.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬

full name. samuel matthew oliver.

nicknames. sam, sammy, matt, & matty (preferred name and most commonly refereed to as).

age. twenty-four.

date of birth. june 17th.

occupation. actor. (i might give him another job eventually but don’t hold me to that)

sexual / romantic orientation. bisexual & biromantic.

birthplace. asbury park, new jersey.

zodiac. gemini.

spoken languages. english.

𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

samuel mattew oliver was born to two extremely loving parents jeremy and elizabeth marie oliver, arguably one of the most influential celebrity couples known to man, at least that’s what it felt like growing up in the household, everyone was talking about the oliver’s and when they weren’t...well that never happened

as a middle child, preceded by his older brother mason, and succeeded by his younger sister cassandra, naturally he was born with a crave for validation, anything that separated him for his siblings

but naturally in his need to be different he found his closest allies, more so mason than cassie, but eventually she grew on him, and was most certainly not forced upon the dynamic duo of brother by their parents, but believe me he grew to adore her!

childhood was seemingly normal minus the bombarding questions from nosy students who wanted to know what it was like to have celebrity parents or be rich or live in a house with more bedrooms than necessary 

unlike his siblings however matty reveled in the attention way more than he let on, it was nice to be noticed for something, even if it wasn’t quite what he’d been hoping to be noticed for

but by no means was he stupid! he wouldn’t allow anyone to take advantage of him and had an unusual talent for knowing when people only wanted to use his friendship as some sort of gain for himself, and extended this talent to his sister cass, because boy oh boy did she need it

their dad who i forgot to mention was a professor at juiliard, his alma matter, caused a constant bouncing back and forth between their coastal home in new jersey and their urban townhouse in new york

both places felt like home to the trio! they made so many good memories, however matty was extremely preferential to the coast, and to this day maintains a beach boy vibe, swears everything is just better by the beach

going back to his upbringing for a minute high school rolled around for him and mason and he just became even more extremely protective of cassie, he went through things extremely unknown to his family

on the outside he was the model person and student, honor roll, a long glowing list of extracurriculars including sports, even holding down a normal job like everyone else at his high school, and not a single blemish in his criminal record, the squeaky clean olivers remained squeaky cleans

HOWEVER there was some shady stuff going on behind the scenes my guy, nothing too terrible, just the usual teenager with loving parents who raise a troubled teen, not because of any past trauma but a need to feel seen

DRUGS & ALCOHOL TW got into a lot of fight but always told them they had to fight after school, he got into drugs, nothing too hardcore, just weed (is that a weed i’m calling the police vibes).....at first.....but that’s a different story so moving on! he of course drank with his buddies at high school parties, honestly just vibing my guys, just straight vibes always

secret!!!!

CAR ACCIDENT TW & ALCOHOL TW & DEATH TW one day he’s vibing, it’s the summer they’re celebrating another school year complete, and by the end of the night nearly black out drunk at this point, he knows he can’t go home so he decides to get a ride home with a buddy he worked with, tell his parents that said buddy took him home after work, they worked on homework and fell asleep. and honestly had he had a little less to drink, he would’ve realized that his friend was just as drunk as he was, but they drove anyways. this lead to a drunken car accident, that ended in the death of a pedestrian. thankfully his friend’s dad was a lawyer, and they covered that shit up immediately.

after this whole ordeal choose an accelerated course of study to pursue his acting career, finally something people would talk about that would be solely his, like not really, but let him have his moment alright, he was desperate 

lowkey feels guilty about being a hypocrite towards cassie because he’s telling her not to do any of the thing 

ADDICTION TW he almost kicked his habit but getting back into acting and the guilt of having blood on his hands, was too much for matty, and he developed a drug / alcohol dependency, which he recognized was extremely harmful! he went to rehab! and has been very vocal about his struggle with addiction ever since

had an on set romance with a costar that crashed and burned, quite publicly, and was just not good for his mental health one bit! def didn’t help with his constantly teetering sobriety but he managed to get through it with the help of his family and his friends

acting wise he’s starred in a bunch of movies but his baby is the netflix show that he’s been working on, i would like to think it’s kind of a sitcom esque show mixed with the same comedic timing of the office, parks n rec, those kinda self-aware humor vibes

ADDICTION TW he plays one of the main character, and his dipped his toes into directing and writing a couple of episodes, the show truly gives me one day at a time vibes, just brings light to mental health, addiction, important issues you don’t normally see portrayed on tv, and he def plays schneider, the bumbling rich boy who does and says what he’s told, struggles with addiction, has a super childish nature, and just a hint of self-awareness but just a hint as a little treat

this is so ooc but i’m realizing he’s quite literally schneider from one day at a time

MENTAL HEALTH TW & ANXIETY TW has receded from that cool kid persona he once held back in what i refer to as his ‘glory days’ and is now extremely vulnerable to everything and everyone, will literally cry if you even look at him the wrong way. struggles with really bad anxiety, among other mental health issues (which is why his netflix show and he advocate so heavily for mental health!) but is quite literally one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, softness runs in the oliver family ig.

IS LITERALLY SO CHILDISH....where was once extremely mature for his age....he now copes with his trauma by just acting like a toddler, literally mixes chocolate milk IN HIS MOUTH like a heathen, but that still doesn’t stop him from being fiercely protective of cassie, and will fight anyone for her

currently vibing! filming, being his best(?) self, and making trips to the nj coast

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

positive traits. accommodating, adaptable, affable, affectionate, agreeable, altruistic, amiable, attentive, caring, cheerful, communicative, compassionate, considerate, courteous, creative, dependable, easy-going, empathetic, exuberant, friendly, fun-loving, generous, gentle, genuine, gregarious, helpful, honest, humane, humble, joyful, kind, lively, loyal, loving, optimistic, outgoing, passionate, playful, reliable, resilient, romantic, sincere, sociable, tender, trustworthy, thoughtful, understanding, and warm-hearted.

negative traits. anxious, amenable, avoidant, awkward, critical, defensive, disorganized, dogmatic, (over)emotional, evasive, foolish, forgetful, forgiving, gullible, headstrong, hopeless, idealistic, impatient, impulsive, irrational, messy, moody, oblivious, (over)protective, sensitive, shy, thoughtless, and weak-willed.

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

here’s some basic plot ideas but we can always brainstorm smth! friends, frenemies, enemies, friends to lovers, childhood friends, ex best friend, costars, unrequited crush, bad influence, exes, one night stand, roommates! i have

[komkommertijd]

Toronto Log Day 1

July 7, 2019

Looking at the date today and realizing that it’s really been a year since my summer holiday adventure feels so unreal but I really am motivated to start this little series here today. A few days ago I made a post asking about who would be interested in reading about the weird things I got up to while abroad and I was so happy when I received some answers - I’d probably write this anyway even without anyone paying attention to it, because this is mostly still a thing for myself to relive all the happy moments, but it’s nice knowing that someone cares.

This entire thing started back in 6th grade when I accidentally started getting addicted to sports of all kinds of forms. Ice hockey has always seemed cool to me and it felt fairly easy to get into it. I don’t know why or how it happened but from day one until today, I’ve always supported the same team in the NHL, despite all the pain it inevitably comes with. The Toronto Maple Leafs just had something about them, looking back I’m pretty sure that this “something” is Mitch Marner, that made me want to get into the sport more. Ever since then, my love for the city started growing and it is still always expanding day by day.

Toronto just drew me in, in a way no other city ever managed to, so when I turned 14, the idea of going on an exchange trip slowly started forming in my head. My English at the time was good for the average 8th grader and I had the best teacher ever that year, who further encouraged me to spend some time abroad - he even talked to my mother about it when she dropped me off for a field trip one day. 

I already knew that I wanted to go to either Canada or Australia, but obviously it’s not the smartest idea to send a young kid on a day-long plane trip on their own and Australia seemed like the smarter option to visit for an entire year instead of just a few weeks during summer break. When I stepped up to info points at a language exchange fair in my Maple Leafs jersey, it was pretty clear where this was going to go. 

The months leading up to the trip were a weird combination of excitement and anxiety, getting a passport, doing a language test, booking a flight. I still remember receiving the email of my eTA being approved barely six days before leaving the country. 

After a road trip from the most Eastern end of Germany all the way to Frankfurt Main, plus staying a night at my godmother’s place, right after the last day of school, the big day finally came. The airport in Frankfurt is the largest one in Germany and therefore quite overwhelming when one is confronted with it for the first time. To make things worse, the police had to close some part of the airport so I had to find a way around that area to get to the baggage drop-off. The lines divided into flights to the US and flights to the rest of the world, so my mom got in line with me and my brother. The worst thing was saying goodbye to them in front of the safety check and I swear I cried harder than ever before.

The fear of being on my own settled slightly after I survived the security check and got in line to get my passport checked but inevitably returned when I noticed that boarding would start soon and I had no idea which gate to go to. The guy behind the counter was really nice, telling me to have fun in school in Canada before I was allowed to leave. I arrived at my gate literally right when boarding started and somehow got to my designated seat without too much trouble. It was my first time ever leaving Europe, ever flying on my own and spending more than three hours on a plane, and I was weirdly hyped. I survived the eight hours on my way across the Atlantic Ocean with some actually tasty food, three cups of coke, half a liter of water and not a single toilet break.

Seeing the CN Tower during the landing approach made me a lot more emotional than I wanted to be. It’s still surreal to think that all of this actually happened and seeing the skyline live for the first time is something I’ll remember forever. It was warm when I got out of the plane at around 6 pm and tried hacking the airport WiFi to text my mom that I arrived safely (it was 12 am in Germany, sorry mom). Going through the procedure of declaring my goods was something new entirely and I guess I would’ve died there if my English wasn’t on a general level of acceptance. The guy filling out my form looked at me like I was trying to prank him when I told him that the only real good I was sneaking into the country was mustard (the present for my host family because my home town produces one of Germany’s most well-known mustards, it’s weird) and he struggled with trying to read my German papers about the travel details but ended up figuring out that I wasn’t lying about staying three weeks to waste my summer vacation in school on the other side of the world. 

I somehow found the woman in charge of coordinating our shuttles to our host families or the student’s residence, depending on where each of us chose to stay, and followed her outside into the mess that was the traffic right in front of YYZ. I met another German girl there and started talking to her for a while until we got scolded for not talking in English. The Italian students continued arguing about God knows what while I tried to calm myself down as I watched an Audi drive by - a bit of familiarity 6.5 thousand kilometers away from home. 

My legs were cramping and my sweatpants started feeling a bit sticky in the unexpected warmth of the evening and when I dragged my way too huge suitcase up the driveway of a house in Etobicoke, not too far away from the airport, it all started feeling a bit too real. My Brazilian host family welcomed me with open arms and to this day I’m glad that I got to stay with them, considering all the horror stories I got to hear the following weeks from other students.

I shared a room with Alicja, a Polish girl my age from Warsaw, who reminded me a lot of one of my classmates at first and turned out to be quite a lot more similar to me in some ways than I would’ve expected. We ate our first dinner together and tried to figure out how the hell to get to Adelaide Street East in the middle of downtown Toronto before I spent an hour trying to understand the TTC and almost getting a panic attack about how to use the PRESTO card, which occupies some space in my wallet to this day.

Luckily, our host mother sent us some directions for the following day and provided us both with a token each to get to school after we exchanged numbers and set up a group chat. We figured out that getting to school would take us an hour and a half at least, so we strategically set our alarms to 6:45 am to catch the right bus at 7:20. I was exhausted when I crawled into bed that night with my left leg still cramping once in a while but not jetlagged at all, which seems concerning in hindsight. I struggled with plugging my phone charger into the adapter plug before plugging that into the actual socket and shivered for quite a while before being able to fall asleep - our air-conditioning was broken for some reason and provided us with true Canadian winter vibes (it’s the only way for me to validate the “I survived Canadian cold” button on my backpack). 

It felt weird, falling asleep in a bed in a country so far away from home with no one I know around, in a comfortable bed with my favorite pillow that I take everywhere tucked under my head. I arrived, finally, after dreaming about it for so long, and despite not seeing literally anything but the suburbs and some streets so far, it oddly felt a lot like coming home.

[bold-moves]

Better Than You Think, 001: The Dark Knight Rises.

I want to start writing out why I like some of the movies that most people hate. The narratively derivative, corny, critically panned action movies that people write off. Those are my faves. So here goes.

Not as groundbreaking as Batman Begins or as critically acclaimed as The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises stands as the odd one out of Nolan’s trilogy. It has some tonal similarities and the action is equally fantastical but for whatever reason, it’s not everyone’s favorite. 

It’s definitely mine though and I’m going to explain why for a bit.

I’m going to contextualize this and say, that I don’t like Batman. As a boy, I did for sure, but as I’ve grown up, I strongly believe that this guy is totally lame. Sure, singularity of purpose is admiral and I’ll give anyone that, but this dude is totally lame by my standards. He alienates his relationships, he’s totally detached from the world he’s in and his money insulates him from even his own cause. The idea that I will use my wealth and resources to strike fear into criminals is kind of an asshole way to go about it. Spider-man uses his powers to rise to the occasion of his responsibilities and Batman uses his resources to hold criminals responsible for what has happened to Gotham and had he spent his time intimidating corrupt judges and politicians instead of projecting his anger and loss on criminals, maybe the people who really have influence in the city would be galvanized and inspired to their jobs. But like the wealthy, resourceful, and privileged, they protect their own and Batman is absolving the elite with his “powers.” He’s a bit like Che Guevara to me. You have someone who comes from a wealthy background, sees the world and how fucked up it is, decides to do something about it, romanticizes his campaign, and when he’s actually in a position to make permanent change, he denies it and indulges is addictions to conflict and virtue signaling. 

He also looks cool on a T-Shirt.

Enter Bane. Bane is the hero of this movie for me. He is literally from the bottom. The movie deviates from the comics which depicts Bane as a person of color from a fictional country in Latin America, whose father was a failed revolutionary that escaped the country and due to the archaic laws of the country, is forced to serve the sentence of his father. He grew up surrounded by criminals and in this basin of crime and misery, built his mind and body to rival Batman. In this prison he hears about the tales of “The Great Bat of Gotham,” the personification of his own fear of the bats infesting the prison and decides to, unlike Bruce Wayne who uses his own fear of bats to strike dread into his enemies, kill the great Bat and subdue finally his fears.

He is not inspired to project his fears and insecurities on criminals. He does not pervert his responsibilities. He targets the thing that he fears and with singularity of purpose, sets out to conquer them by any means necessary, and always with the means he’s inherited from his isolation and resolve, not his wealthy parents.

Now back to the film. Bane, is equally romantic as Bruce, but practical. This is a person of great will and with will we can cut through our human failings and rise to our great potential. He is always aware of the true nature of things and will not let money, the constructs of society or those who believe they are in power adulterate his vision. There is no second personality. No playboy. No concessions. “No one cared who I was until I put on the mask.” Unlike all of us, scrambling to be known and validated, he has given up his face and uniquely personal ambitions to become, not a superficial symbol, but an agent of change. The bringer of true justice and the vicious wind that will blow away corruption. His response to evil and crime is not a crusade to strike fear into the evil and criminal. He wishes to protect true innocence. In the movie he fights off prisoners to protect young Thalia.  He wishes to defend those who truly cannot defend themselves. In the comics, His father is a coward. His mother, violated and murdered. His youth and innocence, burgled by a system that claims to bring justice but enlarges itself on the plunder of its own hypocrisy and inefficiencies. Bane purifies himself and purges his humanity to defend a principle of true justice.

This inspires me to no end.  Until I saw this movie, I didn't want to get big until I saw this movie. As soon as the movie was over, I went to Walmart and bought a pull-up bar. To be so intimidating. To be so replete with resolve. To use simple and devastating speech. To place the hand on the shoulders of some tiny, self entitled money bags and ask him,”do you feel in charge?” At the time, I was working at a Japanese company, taking shit all day, struggling within the customary submissive constructs of working for a Japanese boss. I had been training in martial arts for over a decade by that time, I was bilingual, I was fucking dangerous and instead I was taking orders all day from people I could crush with my bare hands. Seeing Bane was so inspiring for me at that time. I have this need to keep driving, and fighting. To not let peace defeat me. This was something I learned from this film. 

One of the other lines that really stung me was when Catwoman was urging Batman to escape the city with her, pleading, “you don’t owe these people anymore, you’ve given them everything.” To me at that time, I thought of all the placating, and self adjusting I had done to fit in. All of the time I’ve tried to make society value me. All of the time I've pleaded for love and just a chance to be happy. I was tired of working for that. I didn't owe these people anymore. When Batman responds saying “Not everything. Not yet,” I thought of a version of myself that has gone all out. A version of myself that has engaged that final gear of existing. Intense. Achieving. Severe. And this severity is something that I wanted to be associated with and I hadn’t given to the world, not yet. Over time it became less about the people and more about doing it for myself. In my recent viewing of the movie, another line has stood out to me. A concept that I think more accurately describes my current mood. While Bruce Wayne is in the prison, doing push ups, trying to regain his strength so that he can escape, a fellow prisoner asks him, “why build yourself?” and Bruce responds, “I’m not meant to die in here.” I don’t think this line was supposed to have that much of an effect but it  really spoke to me this time.

I’m so driven to self overcome. I joined the army to breakdown the habits that a comfortable civilian life had infected me with and to add another element of lethality to my arsenal.  I can’t stop thinking about how to improve and fortify and often people do ask me why I’m so intense. I often ask myself this as well. The idea of “not dying in here,” is the answer. “Here,” being an unrealized self. “Here,” being the prison of  conditioned impulse and self sabotage. “Here,” being the pressures to be something I am not. “Here,” is being content, agreeable,and submissive. “Here,” is the prison of weakness and the suppression of heroic ideals.  I build myself so that I can escape all debilitating humanity. 

So this movie, although not as revered as the other two Batman movies, is a banger and filled with the  “hard-style”, self-overcoming concepts that give me the chills. I always come back to this film when I need inspiration and a kick in the ass. I invite you to take a deeper look at what's going on. Take a chance on a line of dialogue and think about it a bit and if you find yourself on the bandwagon of disliking or liking something because everyone else does, ask yourself,

“Do you feel in charge?”

[lifeslemonjuice]

Notes on Bad Taste

If you saw my Spotify Rewind for 2019, you would probably laugh. April 2019 - it was that Boy With Love SNL performance which marked the start of it all. Spring Day was when I completely surrendered into their magnificence of 방!탄!소!년!단! This year when Map of the Soul: 7 was released, and I experienced what it felt like to be a fan of theirs for the very first time during an album release. At this moment in time, they are the biggest act in the world. Unreal is the word. But well deserved is the word too. That in itself is a contrast, and the many, many paradoxes you will feel when it comes to their story. How did they make it so big?

Towards the second half of 2019, I was trying to write an essay about Kpop title - Notes On Bad Taste. I wanted to pen down how I surprised myself – a girl that didn’t bother to listen to any Kpop to somehow listen to them every day. To this day, the essay has not yet been completed. It was weirdly difficult to write. (It is weirdly difficult for me to write this too.) It definitely makes me wonder – why is it every time I want to write about this topic, it never feels like I am being completely honest? Perhaps it is the fear of touching a topic that is still widely stigmatised. Perhaps it is the surface level of understanding I have toward a weighty topic. Perhaps the hidden side of the perfection is what draws me in. Perhaps that is the part that I am truly interested in investigating. Perhaps I know that I will never get an answer, which is why I keep wanting more.

This phase of my life marks a delayed time of personal discovery. Somehow I have only just felt comfortable enough in my own skin. Somehow 방탄소년단 showed me the possibility that there is yet another side of me that enjoys this form of music, that somehow showed me to be more openminded and non-judgmental. Certainly, I did not know that music had this kind of power until I understood Kpop.

Note that the definition of Kpop is very widely debated and that it cannot be defined in just a single sentence without going into the history of South Korea. I struggle to define this because there is a whole other side to Kpop that I have yet to understand. The side that stands for independent music, rap scene and those epic gut-wrenching ballads that most South Koreans actually listen to. The idol music side of Kpop being tailored for us non-Koreans, almost like an entrance to a new world. Actually, idol music should be in its own entity because it is the perfectly crafted gateway machine designed to get any fool like myself to want to buy a plane ticket to Seoul.

How I see Kpop or (idol music) is that it vibrates in an upper stratospheric layer. It takes from all types of styles- and exploits them. The visuals, and colour, the beats, and the noise. It is too much, like a Takashi Murakami painting. It’s like you already know that it is manufactured to fit into the pop scene, but you want more. It recycles, it copies. It is irresistible, it is annoying, it makes feel waves on the inside, it makes you dance on the outside. I still wonder – why do I keep listening? It is not that great. It makes you want to turn it off. It makes you feel something you can’t put a finger on. And it makes you curious because – what they are singing about?

And then comes the afterthought. The afterthought that comes through understanding what Kpop is really about. It comes from the artists, their journey to debut to success to mega success. It makes us appreciate their hard work because of the difficult structured system of the Korean music industry, the standard of what the idols need to go through - the corruption, the mental health issues that are never addressed, the fact that they are South Korean, taking over the world, the message they send to the youth, the massive community of people that formed a real connection. 

Nothing is fair, there is no such American dream from any South Korean native, and the odds are always against them, and yet they breakthrough. There is a deep sense of undying support and empathy toward these idols from fans because they understand how difficult it is for idols to be idols. It is a beautiful cycle of giving and take. The idols vowing to work hard for their fans for their once impossible dreams to stay alive.

Noted that all these criticisms about Kpop exist because we are primed to feel so negatively toward idol music as shown on western media. Ultimately, the moment you give something meaning is when it becomes important. Somehow, with BTS, everything they put out and does carries a sense of normality that young people really resonate within this point in time. You can say it is because they remind young people to love themselves through the context of their music and lyrics. They nudged a generation to read Jung. 

I don’t see 7 boys who love themselves. I see 7 boys healing themselves through the music they make, the performances they do is their way of feeling liberated and free from all they are going through. Subconsciously I see that they remind young people that through the feeling of gratitude for what they do, they vibrate a kind of selflessness that I don’t feel from people who are famous. They are constantly bombarded by the love that they cannot even feel. So, in the back of their minds, a reminder to be realistic and to keep working hard will always burden them. They carry and understand what it is like to feel, to cry, and to not love themselves. It reminds us to reflect on ourselves and our purpose towards ourselves through all these struggles. That’s the appeal. That is sacrifice, and that is the highest form of love. At least what I think is love. All these things that I have just written are weight of mental health that we all can easily relate to. The more vulnerable they are the more people are able to relate to them. It’s like dancing on a tight rope, juggling what they love, the money they earn, and their agency – a metaphorical scissors that can cut the tightrope any time. And waiting for them at the bottom is their sea of fans, all of them which they cannot touch.

There is no explanation needed for me to explain, or for any Kpop lovers out there to explain to people who don’t get it. They will get it if they get it. Simply because the greatest most valid reason to like Kpop is a kind of happiness that certainly can not be fulfilled by pop music these days.

(li)(li)

[dandelliongirl]

What a start

to 2020

I have been working from home since the afternoon of the 16th of March and it feels like forever. I am so glad this week is Easter weekend and a 4 day vacation.

My family has been healthy and life for me hasn't changed that much other than working from home. My friend who lives across the street got a Nintendo Switch and Animal Crossing New Horizons for herself but she doesn't have Nintendo Online membership yet so we have been spending a lot of time together. Besides her and my family I have no other contacts. My friend works at the central hospital though, so it's obviously risky and probably stupid... She came to our cottage a couple of weeks ago and we had the best time going on a forest walk to collect sticks for macrame tapestries and finding photoshoot locations and spending the evening going to sauna, playing ACNH and visiting each others islands to see a meteor shower. We are planning a photoshoot for easter weekend but I think I’m going to move it to a later date. I really need time with my family and by myself after almost 3 weeks of being shut in.

I am so glad we have our cottage and I feel awful for people in one room apartments right now. Spending all my working hours and freetime within a few steps definitely affects my mental state even though I am definitely a homebody. Working from home has been going really well though since I have my own PC with two monitors and my work laptop with VPN separately. I am definitely super glad to have a stable job and the possibility to work from home through this whole covid-19 business. I really struggle coming up with local entrepreneurs to support when there are so many but I definitely feel like I have to because I am lucky enough to have a stable income.

So buying ACNH was an ordeal. My local electronics store didn't list the special edition Switch console bundle until launch day (March 20th) and the place I preordered from didn't get the shipment until 5pm. We drove about 2 hours and started off before 8 am to get the console and game from a different store only to see that it was stocked locally right after opening. Anyway I got the game and it has been an emotional journey. I hate that I got oranges and an orange airport. I'm also not very happy with my town name or my character name but despite spending months making lists and thinking about it I didn't really have better options. I also didn't want to place down the museum before I could access the other side of the river but turns out I needed to place it in order to proceed and lost one day of progress because of it. I was so upset. The map is pretty good and I eventually grew to like my island but then I got Pietro as my first camper and was forced to move him in.. I also ate 10 turnips this Sunday and was absolutely fuming because of it. The first week of listening to the same background music was also an infuriating design choice as well as the recent barrage of bunny day eggs everywhere. Anyway overall I like the game and have spent awesome times with friends playing hide and seek, doing treasure hunts and designing and decorating the place. I'm taking it easy and going my own pace even if it means avoiding spoilers (even from my boyfriend who constantly spoils something because he’s too excited to keep his mouth shut!) like the plague.

Mum and dad had the rest of their house renovated during March since the bedrooms were renovated a few years ago. Me and mum spent so much time choosing the materials and planning the new layout of the kitchen and living room but it's so beautiful now! So open and light and airy and clean!

This whole covid isolation thing has really put all of my personal goals on hold. I feel like even though externally I haven't been affected too much the whole mental side of it has taken a toll. With no hobbies me and my guy are both constantly at home and even though I love it and we have a lot of fun together I also hadn't realised how much I relied on my couple of hours of weekly alone time to work on my crafts and baking and organising the house. I feel like the first 2 weeks were spent on survival mode and then ACNH took up all remaining free time and brain capacity as a form of escapism so I'm not getting anything done and that's eating me up. Also the lack of physical activity is taking a mental toll on both me and my boyfriend since we don't have a whole lot of room and I definitely don't feel like working out when he's just haning out on the couch in front of me.. I have also had a lot of restless nights and nightmares which tells me that I'm not as unaffected as I think I am. I have definitely been avoiding the news and trying to get into some new normal routines as fast as possible. I drafted this message while in a Teams meeting where our coordinators can do their own year and resource planning and ask me tech questions when they need help. Now I’m finishing and posting this before I start the next one. I don’t want to accidentally screenshare Tumblr..

My last post was from January 19th and since then we've had a fun birthday party for my high school friend on the 22nd, a brunch at and a visit to the future wedding venue for another friend on the 23rd, an adorable photoshoot with a big teddy bear on the 29th of January, sushi with my family on the 6th of March and this whole covid situation. My colleague with whom I had a lot of issues moved away and no longer works with us. Work without her has been great and I have been thriving. I love feeling important and needed, and it gives me hope for my future since my current contract ends at the end of this year. There are 5 of us in our team looking to get a permanent contract for one of the 2 open positions so we'll have to see what happens, but I'm definitely applying anyway.

Mum is on vacation this week and went to take food to granny and grandpa's door on Monday. Today (Wednesday) I plan on leaving work early and going to the cottage, and to work remotely from there on Thursday if I have no meetings that require a more stable Internet connection. Since the kitchen renovation and a relatively warm and snowless winter we got to start our cottage season early this year. My guy is also spending Easter with his family at their cottage. It's his 27th birthday next week! We are really bad at socially distancing ourselves from our families but apart from my friend those are the only connections we have.. My spring allergies started and it's definitely hard to know if I have flu symptoms or allergies but so far I've just felt sniffly and it helps after I take my allergy meds so I think I'm safe. If either of us or any of our loved ones got flu symptoms we would definitely stay home and we are well prepared for that.

In a few months once this whole thing calms down this will feel like such a weird alternative timeline or fever dream and it will seem very unreal that a disease drove us into global and local isolation of this scale where even schools were closed. Our capital is quarantined and the police are making sure people who cross the border have a valid reason to do so.. People are placing teddy bears and other stuffed animals to their windows for children to spot on their walks outside.. Wild.

Meanwhile I'll go back to playing ACNH, dreaming of summer and finding my new norms. I hope everyone stays safe and healthy! I’m trying to get the most out of my time working from home because it means I can do embroidery and other crafts during meetings.:)

[interestsofabookwormbitch]

Crushes

No need to read this. I've just had crushes on the mind lately and wanted to organize my own out in a space where I'll be able to find it without worry of my family doing so. If you want to you can though. Be a little informative of me I suppose

Ok, let's start with saying I had no crushes in elementary school. Made me feel weird, but this isn't about that, this is purely about actual crushes, not lack thereof. Also like, celebs don't count

Crush #1: Gr.6. I don't remember a lot, I just remember seeing this boy, and it felt so different from any other boy I'd seen. I obviously realized it was a crush, and honestly? I was so happy. I felt like there was something wrong with me before for not having crushes (not that there is anything wrong with not getting crushes, but to my young mind I thought I was weird. I wasn't educated enough to a) know that tons of people don't get crushes until their tweens, and b) that a lot of people just never get crushes, and there's nothing wrong with that. And I can get into a whole topic right here, but keeping this about crushes). Never talked to the kid though, and got over him by the next year.

Crush #2: Gr. 7. This was a kid in my class who I did frequently interact with. My friend and him had this sort of joke war going on, so obviously I was pulled into it, which I enjoyed. He was a fun kid, and I can remember exactly when I got the crush. I pulled his hair (this joke war did involve physical altercations. Nothing that actually bad, but still). It was soft. I had a crush on him until my next crush started, So summer after gr.8. Sadly he died in a car accident in our grade 12 year. By that point I'd barely talked to him anymore, but it still sucked, and sucks. Sometimes it feels unreal, because like, he was a genuinely happy person, that brought a lot of joy with him. I may not of had a crush anymore, or talked to him, but it was sad.

Crush #3: summer after gr.8. First wrestler crush. This one, realistic, lasted through gr.10 I want to say. It also had a couple flare ups after for like a day or two, and a couple times where I didn't care during those years. I don't know. It was weird. Realised (not got) the crush from having to sit next to him on a bus to Idaho. He's a year older than me, and I can talk with him fine now, but definitely not before. Didn't help he was always with a group of guys. He's nice though.

Crush #4: Gr.9. This one I struggled with a while. It was my first crush on a girl. I could not accept that for the longest time. I didn't care if anyone was into the same gender, but I couldn't be into the same gender, you know? We had math together, and it didn't help that we were sat beside each other for a while. I loved it, don't get me wrong, but it made it even harder for me to ignore my feelings, and instead I tried to say I just really wanted to be friends. I was super disappointed when the seating was changed, even if I was put with my friend, I'd rather sit with her. Lol. Honestly, Tumblr is what helped the most in accepting myself, and that these feelings were indeed a crush. All the positivity for the LGBTQ community made it feel ok. (Now I have other struggles, but that's different). I don't know when I got over her, I was too busy ignoring the feelings to notice when they were gone, but I did before gr.12

Crush #5: Gr.11. This one is honestly the closest I've ever gotten to dating, which is sad since we interacted a whole of three tournaments. Still, pretty sure there was flirting on both sides, and he was the first person to ever imply that I was pretty, in that context. If he wasn't a year older and graduated that year, who knows? We talked a lot after the first time though. Well, whenever we seen each other in person. I'm even worse at talking through message, so we didn't end up keeping in touch. But yeah, I just accidently started talking to him too, and we talked about such a variety of topics I can't even remember. He's probably my purest crush tbh. He was also into Green Day.

Crush #6: freshman in uni. This one I technically should put after the next one, but like, oh well. This one has less to write about. So this one is another girl. She was in my English class, and pretty fun to talk to whenever we did. Also a year older. She's a soccer player, so obviously she's great, since woman soccer players tend to be👌 lol. Not much to say though, since I still like her, just not as much as the next crush. When I'm with her though it's a whole different story. And I've definitely daydreamed about kissing her, which is not usual for me. I don't think we'll see much of each other anymore though, so the crush will probably fade, like most do.

Crush #7: freshman in uni...probably? Ok this is the one I've been gushing about lately. I'm kind of confused on when this started tbh. Like did it start at the summer camp when I first seen him and kept staring at him whenever I could because there was something about his face (he looked very vaguely like Pete Wentz.)? Was it when school started and I realized he was gonna be on my team? Honestly, probably right off the bat if I'm being honest, but I didn't want another crush, so I denied it. Even when I literally could not go up and sit with him when we were the only wrestlers at this thing and I had to wait for Stephanie to come and bring us together. Being nervous like that is normal, but being nervous but still really wanting to go over means crush. Eventually I realized when my reaction to seeing him anywhere really was just hard to ignore. Ok so this one is the only one I actually keep track of on Tumblr (he has his own tag, which really, duh, obviously I liked him). And also the only one I've completely pictured in more....erotic scenes. I don't mean to, but like, there's this one picture with a little bit of stomach showing (just a sliver) and it makes me picture some smutty shit. Also, and I feel like a fucking fool for this, but the feelings of crushing overpowered me, and (I can't fucking believe it) I wrote a fucking poem. Fuck me for that cringe. But yeah. This one will unfortunately last awhile.

There were a couple of people I could have probably counted, but they barely lasted long enough to register for me, so they just don't count. 2 guys and 1 girl.

Also, this list makes it pretty obvious that I definitely lean towards men in my bisexuality. If I do add the other 3 that'd make 70% of people I crush on male, and 30% female. Which is valid, but sometimes it makes me worry about if it's "gay" enough.

Also just looking at the actual list

#1 blonde

#2 blonde

#3 he's actually a brown guy, so black hair

#4 blonde (Also cute dimples)

#5 blonde

#6 brunette (First Nations)

#7 blonde

I think I may have just discovered I have a thing for blondes.

[nosgothpillarofdeath]

Confession

((This is a re-write of a short scene from my RP with @timedeceiver called The Crossing [Pt one] [Pt two]. I wrote this scene back when Lysander was a fairly new character. This post is my attempt to expand and improve that little scene. It also takes place prior to Moving Forward and this time I’ve included some background to make things easier to understand. 

Background: This takes place early in Nosgoth’s history. Moebius has assembled a small army to fight the vampire guardians and they’re currently headed through the mountains toward a town called Helmsburg, where they’re planning to winter before pushing for Willendorf. Months ago Mortanius entered into an ill fated relationship with the current human Mind Guardian, Tove [timedeceiver]. During this time he’s struggled with his sexuality and developed feelings for his close friend, Lysander [my character] a cleric with a troubled past. With Lysander’s help he’s come to terms with his homosexuality and decided to break things off with Tove as soon as they reach the safety of Helmsburg. In this scene he confronts Lysander with his true feelings.))

A shadow cloaked man scurried through the dark camp, invisible boots softly crunching on the snow as he crept toward a particular tent. Puffs of smoky air wafted from his open mouth. This spell allowed Mortanius to travel practically undetected under cover of darkness, However winter exposed a few fatal flaws. Standing outside the entry to Lysander’s tent, he stalled. 

They met in late summer, in the apothecary where Lysander worked and lived, stocking inventory and sleeping on a straw mat in the backroom, at a time when Moebius’ small army was desperately in need of healers. The surly cleric joined their cause reluctantly. When he caught up with them on the road, sweating and breathing whiskey fumes, he straightened his back and declared he came for ‘death or redemption.’ 

Two men could hardly seem more different. Lysander, dogged and cold tempered. Mortanius, faltering and overly sensitive. Yet they found commonalities, namely a mutual compulsion to run head first into danger to protect and lift up the wounded and weak. On somber nights they would sit together under a cloud of unrealized dreams, comfortably sheltered from the rain in each other’s company, even in silence. Lysander understood him on a level he never thought possible. 

Even Tove, despite her incredible psychic powers, never understood him. She feared the haunted corridors of other people’s minds. Though only mortal, Lysander did not shrink from knowing him.

But Lysander could also be fickle. He treated most people like opponents in a high stakes game, lying when it suited him, keeping his true intentions close to his chest. Somewhat like Moebius, whom Mortanius felt close to in a brotherly way. There were times - Mortanius felt certain there were times when he saw Lysander’s soul bare before him. 

Mortanius entered through the flap in the tent. The shadows retreated from his person, revealing a pale, lanky man midway through his twenties with long dark hair and a well trimmed beard. A grey speck of mage light manifested in his open palm. Just enough light to see inside the dark tent. 

He saw Lysander fast asleep in his cot. His dirty blond hair looked like a bird’s nest. Guiltily, Mortanius crouched next to him and whispered, “Lysander, wake up.”

Lysander’s brows pinched as he squirmed. Recognizing Mortanius through squinted eyes, he lifted his head. His breath smelled of the army’s watered down booze. “My Pillar, what’s wrong?”

Shortly after joining the army, Lysander became Mortanius’ disciple when he bore witness to the Death Guardian’s power to ease the tortured souls of the dead. Since then he addressed him as ‘my Pillar’ in public. Over time their private interactions became more familiar, although he still used his personal honorific from time to time.   

Even bedraggled and groggy Lysander caused his heart to flutter. “I’m sorry for waking you. It’s all quiet outside, I only need to talk.”

He blinked hazily. “Can it wait until morning?”

“I’m afraid not, if I have to wait another day I think I might burst. It’s important.”

Lysander propped himself up and scratched at his beard as he eyed Mortanius with a knowing, weary look. “Give me a minute… ah, I was having a nice dream. What’s the matter?” 

Mortanius clutched the edges of his fur cloak together over his pounding heart and took a deep, chilly breath. He fought the urge to stammer or look away. Sometimes he succeeded. As he ventured forth his anxiety turned to excitement and a timid smile spread across his face.

“Lysander, you… are constantly on my mind. You… are always by my side with encouragement and support. You listen to me - even when I’m being a burden - you understand me and give me courage. You remind me of the noble merits of my Pillar yet never forget that I am human, too. You help me feel human! I… I want to be with you, in Helmsburg after everything is settled. I haven’t forgotten my commitment. Only… I need to know how you feel. That much can’t wait.”

Sitting up wide awake, Lysander listened and stared. The dim light caused his skin to appear ashen. He looked away, strangely sullen. Dread closed around Mortanius’ throat. His voice cracked.

“Please, say something. I need an answer. If you’re going to hurt me, just do it.”

“Stop,” Lysander said curtly, not cruelly. “Just stop and think about what you’re asking.”

Mortanius searched his face. “I have thought about it. How could I come here if I hadn’t thought about it?”

“You know it would be different if you only wanted to sleep with me. You’re asking to love me. That’s not realistic.”

“I don’t understand…” 

“Once you’ve been around like I have, you’ll learn. Men don’t want love. They just want to feel special with whoever happens to be there.”

Much of Lysander’s past remained a mystery. He knew that he struggled against the vile Nature Guardian Malanthe in Willendorf, the gruesome slaughter of his comrades hurling him down a pit of drink and self-destruction, then burned ten years on the road to escape his perceived sins. Lysander looked back on those years bitterly. Was this why?

Mortanius blinked and swallowed. No, he would not cry, this was not over yet. He offered, “You’re not like that.”

Lysander sneered. “You are. I may be on your side but I still saw what you did, what you’re doing right now.”

He recoiled, holding the faint mage light close to his chest. The darkness rose around them. Mortanius pleaded, “You’re right, I have made mistakes - I kissed you when I shouldn’t have and I’ve snuck out to see you behind Tove’s back. I should have ended this months ago but I was too afraid. I’m clumsy and naive but I’m trying to do better.”

On that front he did not appear to be off to a good start. He possessed no ill intentions in coming here, he only wanted to express the feelings that had been swelling inside him and learn if they had merit. Regardless, he betrayed Tove’s trust again.

In spite of the indomitable forces Mortanius wielded in battle he remained a coward in private. Of the three human Pillars his resolve was the weakest. He submitted too easily to the authority of others, cringing in the face of his own inexperience. Ordinarily this is where he would have given up. He felt remorseful and pathetic for creeping out in the middle of a cold night to lay his heart at the feet of a cynical tramp. 

Mortanius closed his fist around the clasp of his cloak and peered up at Lysander from under his crumpled brow. “I told the truth about my feelings. The day after we kissed you said that had we met sooner you would have gladly stayed the night and more, that you wished to follow me until the end of your days regardless. Is that still how you feel?”

For a moment Lysander simply pressed his lips together, looking vaguely defiant. “I say a lot when I’m shit-faced.”

Mortanius waited. That was not a real answer, it was a misdirection. Lysander could tell flattering lies when he wanted someone to like him, he could lie flawlessly even drunk, but he heard him tell the truth enough to know the difference. Slowly, cracks appeared in Lysander’s armor. 

“You still don’t know what you want. The world will have its eyes on you, Mortanius. We could never be together in public, not like you and Tove, I would taint your image.”

“I don’t care about my image, for Nosgoth’s sake! My aspect’s power over life and death is almost as twisted as the vampires themselves.”

“That’s not true!” he blurted. “Your service to the dead is the only real comfort us mortals have.”

Mortanius opened his mouth and smiled, leaning forward with his hand on the side of the cot. “I can always count on you. What more do I need?”

He leaned back and lifted his right arm over his lap dejectedly, away from Mortanius. “It’s not that simple. The people are still skeptical of human Pillars. If you want to establish this order Moebius talks about, you need more than my support.”

That was a valid point. Already their ability to secure funding and men for this army was predicated on reputation. 

“I’ll trust my brother to guide Nosgoth’s leaders to our cause, as I always have. If you were such a danger to his plans he would not have allowed you here. You have nothing to fear. Tell me if you want me to leave but I won’t run away for you.”

Rising, Mortanius turned and seated himself on the edge of the cot near Lysander. Lysander’s eyes flickered. He seemed to be out of words now, to his own dismay. Mortanius gently reached out to him. As he closed in Lysander let out a quiet hiss and tried to swat him aside. Mortanius flinched reflexively. However, he failed to commit to the swing and caught the hand instead, holding it by the tips of his fingers as if full contact with Mortanius’ skin would overwhelm him. His fingers trembled.

Lysander shut his eyes, his face lined with dark trenches. He looked older than his thirty years. Although Mortanius remained ignorant of many things in the wider world beyond the vampire’s claustrophobic citadel, he understood loneliness. Out here, on the road, Mortanius saw freedom. Lysander had walked this way before and he saw bleakness. Neither man lived easily. Mortanius tilted his hand and softly caressed his open palm, cooing, “It’s okay, this is what I want.”

His fingers slid into the grooves of Mortanius’ hand. Their palms pressed together and their thumbs stroked one another heavily. Suddenly Lysander arched forward and planted him with a kiss. 

Mortanius’ heart thrashed inside its cage. Overwhelmed, he tried to give himself an inch. True to his word Lysander followed his every move, stuck to him like tar. Mortanius’ jittery laughter filled the tiny space between. For once, he was right. 

A short time later, Lysander relented from the kiss. His head slumped against Mortanius’ chest. “Forgive me, my dear Pillar. I trust you with my life, with my soul but…”

Mortanius stroked the back of his hand. “Of course I forgive you. Are you all right?”

“I don’t know. You… do things to me. How many days is it again? To Helmsburg, obviously.”

He blinked. “Uh, two days, assuming fair weather. You still haven’t given me a straightforward answer.”

Lysander met his eyes. “Would you stay with me tonight?”

Caught off guard, Mortanius flushed and reluctantly shook his head. “Then I’d be just like those other men, wouldn’t I? I need to settle things with Tove first.”

He looked disappointed. “After all those things you said, if you wanted to, I’d let you use me. Tove would smash my head like a melon over it, I know. At least I’d die happy. That’s the type of man I am.”

Mortanius took back his hand with a sigh. He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck to distract himself from his lustful thoughts. The mage light glowed a little brighter. 

Not too long ago he would have taken Lysander up on that. There was a chance Tove might remain oblivious, given her reluctance to know the minds of others, although he would have suffered the guilt regardless. He harbored a lot of regrets. So did Lysander. Since they met he watched Lysander face his vices and fears in pursuit of personal redemption many times, more often than not saw him succeed, at least in a small way. It made him uncomfortable, too complacent in his own self-doubt. 

“No, I think we’re both better than that,” said Mortanius. “When I’m ready, I’ll call on you in Helmsburg. All right?”

Although he tried to hide it at first, a lopsided smile graced Lysander’s scruffy face. “You’re a good man. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

“I p-promise I won’t make you wait too long, if I can help it,” Mortanius stammered. A tremendous feeling swelled in his chest. He leaned over impulsively, hesitated, then hastily pecked Lysander on the lips a last time. 

Outside, too exuberant to return to his tent, Mortanius paced around the camp pretending to inspect the night guards. He could barely keep a straight face. As he feigned his rounds through the bracing cold he paused to gaze up at the clear starry sky. Two days.

[fandomshatelgbtqpeople]

Do you have any advice for overcoming internalized bi/panphobia towards oneself? I'm a girl who's never dated but has had a lot of crushes, real and fictional, mostly men, but I can't deny that I have loved the maybe one out of every twenty crushes that has been a woman just as much as (or more than) the guys. I wouldn't hesitate to defend anyone else in my shoes calling themselves bi/pan as valid, but I still struggle to call myself anything other than straight without feeling like an imposter.

Hello Nonny! I hope your day is good and the weather wherever you live is breezy and sunny <33

Thank you for coming to us with your concern, and as a fellow Bi person who’s never dated and very much experienced internalized Biphobia due to a homophobic upbringing+environment, I’d like to start this by saying that you’re not alone on your journey. A lot Bi folks struggle with figuring out our identity because it causes us so much confusion, and it’s especially harder on women + anyone who IDs as such due to society’s misogyny. Not to mention how there’s still plenty of Bi/Panphobia in LGBTQ+ spaces, which makes us doubt even ourselves despite our ID being something of our own. 

There’s really no such thing as an imposter when it comes to how you feel about yourself - If you think you’re faking it, chances are you’re most probably not. Questioning is a valid progress, and we support our Questioning folks. 

Battling internalized -phobia isn’t easy, but I’m glad you’re making an effort to in order to love yourself more. I’m speaking from personal experience here, but one of the most efficient ways I’ve known to help is to start educate oneself on Bisexuality/Biromanticsm. Get exposed to Bi-friendly media: read articles, blogs and stories about Bi people, the more the better! It could be about anything, and I’ve figured for myself that there are actually a lot going around. Positivity and history makes our community, after all, so it doesn’t hurt to try and see yourself in the bigger picture. 

If you’re an artist/writer who likes to engage in activities like world/character-building and RP, another cool thing that could help is to make+develop Bi OCs! Maybe not just one, but multiple if you can! They don’t necessarily need to be a projection of yourself, as long as they’re fun to work with. Having fictional characters you can control and write from your own experiences - all the while testing out different sets of personalities/stories/characteristics - can be very therapeutic! I’ve found them to be a great part of one’s journey to aid with figuring out how we ID, as well as a vent method somewhat. Not to mention: when you do research on your character, you might learn a lot more for yourself too! Way back when, I started to have my first Agender OC, while developing them I came across many articles/blogs about gender identity, the LGBTQ+ community and resources on being Non-binary. Because of that, I found out just how much I clicked with certain labels, and despite slowly, I began to understand myself more as a Non-binary individual, eventually embracing it as I grow up.

There are many ways to figure out your ID(s), but all in all: how you identify is all up to you. It can be confusing or complicated, as long as it makes you happy, nobody has the right to take that away from you.

If any other Bi/Pan folks would like to suggest anything else to help our Nonny here, please don’t hesitate to do so! We love to hear more about different experiences Bi/Pan folks have with figuring themselves <33

I hope you’ll find plenty of Good Vibes your way!!! 

~Mod H(ow are Bi people so fricking rad???? Unreal!)

[chazigill]

Exactly How To Be More Productive: 4 Small Tweaks To Create

Everyone supposes that being more productive is just concerning acquiring much more done in much less opportunity. If you are actually a productive individual, you definitely accomplish even more in months than lots of folks carry out in years. However productivity is additional of a method of being. You could be performing much less as well as at the same time, be actually more productive. What perform you think about when you think about how to improve your focus and concentration?

On your search for being actually extra productive, you are actually very likely ahead around a wide range of information on various resources, methods and pointers to use. The majority of the amount of time, it might feel like common sense; however, sound judgment is actually absolutely certainly not usual method and also this is why lots of individuals struggle to raise their productivity.

The majority of what you are going to check out will certainly strengthen your outcomes, but another adding variable is actually that a few of the recommendations simply do not seem to be to sound with people or may not be actually easily applied.

Four Tiny Tweaks When ask how to be productive everyday?

Avoid Your Very own Way

Often all you need to have to accomplish is actually cease sabotaging yourself and also get out of your personal technique.

What do I mean specifically?

This is one of the most cause certainly not to become extra Productive when you ask how to be more productive? You might tend to look at all the extrinsic factors of why you can't be a lot more productive and you might point the finger at, whine and implicate everybody as well as everything, other than on your own. When the blame can certainly not be directed outwardly, you could then consider using excuses, frantically searching for a validation that will provide you comfort since "you possess no management over what takes place."

The number of justifications perform you reside as well as possess through each day? "I couldn't do this given that ... or I do not have time to do this since ..." I am not stating that your justifications might certainly not stand, however I highly believe that greater than 80% of the moment, they are actually unreal; it is actually an avoidance strategy that our experts unconsciously use, improve mental clarity.

Not handling putting things off is actually a clear instance of standing in your very own method. Nobody else is visiting instantly make it disappear; it will certainly exist the upcoming time you try to carry out whatever it is that you are postponing.

Consult with Yourself Differently

Productive individuals assume extremely differently than others. You require to challenge your thoughts and also develop a labor productivity way of thinking. What is the main difference? A productive person doesn't presume along free throw lines of 'Oh no, I have received so much to do. What am I mosting likely to perform?" 'I am actually so worried. I can't assume straight" or even "I am actually therefore overcome. I wish this ... or even that ...".

Alter the Satisfy to Match Your Body system.

Opportunity monitoring sustains productivity. They go together. Lots of people frequently ignore the reality that time administration is certainly not a biscuit cutter though, as well as what could fit you will not necessarily help your coworker or best buddy. You need to take the advise offered from a meta view and after that change it to your situation specifically.

Recognize Your Time Crooks.

Most of us possess opportunity robbers but most of our company don't also know what they are actually. If you can determine your greatest opportunity thieves, the activities or even situations that throw you off course, distract or disturb you, or even the peccadillos that keep you coming from conducting better, you will certainly improve your results so much more swiftly.

The initiative is going to stay useless if you try to examine as well as administer various approaches and you overlook your existing burglars. You are going to alter your results promptly if you just strive to change one of your worst time administration practices. It will certainly likely likewise give you the impetus to change what else isn't working, the moment you really feel the perks of your efforts and you see the very clear hookup in between what you do as well as what your truth is actually.

[inopinion]

I'd love to hear your thoughts on Gisa Barrow. Gilorn? How will she further grow and mature? Her relationship with Mare? Se seems to me too under-analyzed.

Gisa Barrow… my analysis….and this gets long.

She’s the youngest child, Mare is 18, she is 15. Bree, the oldest brother is about 23. When Bree was conscripted she was 10. But she was also already an apprentice. When she found her job, it was probably already clear that Mare, Shade, and Tramy would all be conscripted and not apprenticed. Considering only Mare and Shade adhered to their education enough to be literate, I don’t think we can call the Barrow family conventionally motivated.

Gisa…

At 10, she had a job, responsibilities, and we can assume a long commute which she did on her own every day. This probably made her feel important and distinguished in the family. By 15, it’s a hardship and a duty that she does for everyone else - as Mare observes when she follows her sister to Sommerton in Red Queen. Gisa lives that life alone. She can’t confide in her closest sibling - seeing as how Mare only comes to understand the burden during that walk. Her mother is tender towards her, but may not have any helpful suggestions or experiences. And her father is emotionally unavailable and homebound. Gisa probably takes on a lot of the emotional labor for her family. She’s not really allowed to have complaints - she’s not going to be conscripted. She’s gifted. She’s an example. She has no worries or problems…

Except that she does. She is a young girl growing up with her mistress to guide her and a family to support. She has to mind her own business, be courteous, and stay out of everyone’s way if she wants to make it to a level that she can open her own shop / move out of the apprentice role. There is a lot of pressure on Gisa to carry the family. She may end up being the only surviving child. Her parents will depend on her more as they age. All this must weigh on her and it’s probably why she’s not the most vocal of the siblings.

I imagine Gisa… watching Mare sleep in when she’s getting dressed in the morning and wishing she could roll over.

Coming home late because she had to finish a job and missed the barge and had to walk the 10 miles home. And her mother has dinner set aside on a plate, but it’s cold and after 10 miles, not enough to crush her hunger. Handing over her pay to her parents to buy rations, occasionally thinking about saving some up for herself, but then the price of milk goes up.

Falling asleep in minutes because her body is tired and her mind is mud. Her fingers are sore, and she’s calculating the proportions of the next day’s piece. And proportions are easier to think about with her eyes closed. And then they’re open for another day, another walk, another steady stitch in an endless pattern.

She sits and looks out the window, watching Mare and Kilorn elbowing each other, mud-faced and beaming after an evening on the river banks and a night out pick-pocketing. She watches him watch her sister like a love-drunk fool and Mare laughs at his jokes and snidely snipes back. She wishes she were in on their inside jokes, but she’d have to actually live along side them for that to happen.

Mare resents Gisa because their mother often uses her as an example. When Mare’s being a jerk or hard headed, Gisa can’t help but agree–she is the daughter that best meets their parent’s expectations. But she also looks at her older sister and sees things she wishes she had: independence, freedom, a liberal and loquacious mouth, an ease of self and a confidence that isn’t even shaken by their mother’s often-angry diatribes. Frankly, the rift between her and her sister is created by her parents and their situations. It becomes easier to not address her desires to be like her sister and instead to sit stead-fast on the elevation provided to her by society. It doesn’t mean she looks down on her, and frankly, Mare is the only other sibling contributing to the household and those extra rations ease the pressure off Gisa a little bit.

Kilorn is the only non-family male she ever really gets to see or know or interact with. He’s almost like her friend… almost. Except she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have time.And he smiles at her and looks at the practice pieces her mistress sends her home to sew. Kilorn relies on her for repairs to his trousers and they smell of him as she patches the knee. And she doesn’t know how talk to him because there’s no one for her to practice talking with, or even to develop a more obtainable crush.

Kilorn is 18, she is 15, but when he’s 23 and she is twenty, three years won’t seem so much. But with Mare at the war, he won’t come by, not to see her–that would be silly. And that hurts her deep between the shoulder blades. When Mare is gone, she’ll be more than alone, she’ll be completely disconnected.

That’s what Gisa is… an outsider hanging on by a loose connection. Her destiny is as consigned as her siblings conscription. And if she doesn’t just get up and go to work, and match colors and patterns to order, she has time to think about all the things she barely has and how exactly she’ll lose them. When that happens, it’s not enough to be the preferred daughter or the gifted one. When that happens, she has to get tough and pull herself together, because no one will understand the daughter crying at home when the others could be dying.

Until her hand is smashed. And then, she doesn’t even bring anything of worth to her family. She’s another burden, and she may even be a child that will go to die. Mare getting the job at the palace flips their positions. She struggles seeing her parents happy and relieved and proud of Mare when she no longer has anything to get the praise which has been so consistent. It’s a deeply depressing time.

Until her brothers are back… well, most of them… and they bring the promise of money, pensions, an easier life. Alarmingly, Gisa wasn’t included in the “lottery” which means she could still be sent to war, but that’s three years off and maybe she can sort out something until then.

And then, they exit Nortan society. And every pattern of her life has been unstitched and torn from the fabric. They are fleeing. They have nothing. They have no control. But, she also finally has some freedom, some independence. She can find a way to help the people that have transported them from the Stilts into relative safety and liberation. They are more or less kept fed, clothed, rationed, and safe. So she works her needle as best she can, and the other kids her age are around. It’s the first time, she’s been around people who aren’t driven to deadlines or on their way to work.

It’s foreign and she struggles to cope with the anxiety of breaking the ice, learning names, remembering details, asking the polite questions. She doesn’t know when it’s appropriate to sit in silence or when she’s expected to talk. She worries that they think she’s weird. But then, there’s Kilorn. Smiling, if not per-occupied, Kilorn. And she can tag along sometimes and learns how to be a quiet, but present around to him and others. And it breaks the haze of her childhood crush seeing him:–a fisherman displaced, and her–a girl broken, in contrast.

In Piedmont, she gets healed. It renews her feeling of purpose to have her skills once again in her fingertips. And there are children from the notch that spill out in herds. And behind them, there’s Cameron.

Cameron, who’s angry and confused and determined to save her brother. Cameron, who understands hard work and staying busy and doing as you’re told. Cameron, who’s never had so much free time in her life as she does at Tuck, free time that she spends getting to know Gisa. It’s clear at first, she does it to get to know more about Mare, but that’s a swiftly exhausted topic. And then it’s about anything other than what makes them anxious.

Cameron watches Gisa stitch together flags and pillows and garments by hand. And scrambles together enough parts and pulleys to make a sewing machine. It stitches lowly, but it saves her fingers and makes her blush. She’s never had a gift that made her feel rich before.

Gisa sees Cameron attempting her own braids, her arms getting tired, her crooked fingers aching and unable to hold her hair tight. Gisa sits behind her and carefully works, at first slow and starting over three times. But she gets the hang of it. Gisa puts rows one inch back from Cameron’s face and then braids them to the bottoms. It gives them hours of time to talk and reflect, especially that first time. Gisa becomes Cameron’s go-to for hair braiding, always up for a chance to show improvement and make Cameron smile.

Cameron, on the floor rotating between her knees, starts to bitch about Mare. Not when she is Maven’s pet, of course, but after she comes back, after she stays close to the silver prince. And Gisa take over. She can finally express herself openly and loudly with whatever language she wants and hears it validated and echoed. She feels it heal wounds that she didn’t know she had. They both laugh at the ridiculousness and she cries, for hours, inconsolable in a flood of every uneven experience between her and her sister. Cameron rubs her back and stays with her until she’s calm.

When Cameron is more than tired of waiting for action, her brother a dot on a map that might as well be an ocean away. Gisa, of course, understands having siblings in harm’s way. She understands losing one, having had that pain twice. She doesn’t correct or chastise the anger, the desperation, the almost smothering ache that chokes her friend. Most of all, she doesn’t ask Cameron to be patient, to put herself second, to listen to anyone.

And this is how they cope, together, each other’s first friend. Two girls on the cusp of being grown and making the foolish choice, as we all do, to charge forward as if they are. The separation when Cameron goes to fight is an unreal level of loss, anxiety, and hope. Gisa adds one more name to her lists of prayers and doesn’t apologize for placing her first.

[racingtoaredlight]

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 7 Extravapalooza

With the way the COVID-19 situation in America (and lots of other places around the world) is rapidly heading in the wrong direction, I’m beginning to genuinely wonder if the NFL is going to have to pause the season for a few weeks as some states potentially decide that the gatherings that come with staging a football game are less than necessary. 

Once the league decided to start the season as scheduled, I figured there was no way they’d stop the train once it began lurching forward, even if some unlucky teams were forced to start someone like Brian Hoyer at QB instead of their normal guy. Ahem. But, I also didn’t think things would deteriorate virus-spread wise quite to this degree. I was really giving us as a society way too much credit, it would appear. Given the resistance to the first round of shutdown measures, I think there’s a real possibility that shit could hit the fan in a way few of us have seen before if another batch were implemented, but it seems like the only option going forward for some places if they don’t get their shit together. Our choices in the very near future appear to be: court massive civil unrest spurred on by the very worst among us, or do nothing and let many of those same people carry disease to every corner of the country as hospitals become overwhelmed and people die alone and miserable. Hooray for letting the dumbest assholes dictate the courses of everyone else’s lives. 

Now for some football picks!!!

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Detroit Lions at Atlanta Falcons (-2)

Ah, a team who recently fired their terrible head coach against a team who desperately needs to. I’m glad it finally appears to be dawning on Detroit’s offensive braintrust that D’Andre Swift is the best RB on the team and thus should get the bulk of the touches. You could even say he deserves the LION’S SHARE. Sorry. 

I was ready to declare Matt Ryan officially washed heading into last week’s games, but then he went out and threw for 371 and 4 TDs against the (admittedly trash-ass) Vikings defense, and now I just don’t know. Does having Julio Jones in the lineup really make that much of a difference for him? Maybe! This game should be enjoyable slop and I don’t have any strong leanings one way or another. I’ll pick the Falcons just because a Lions loss gets them one step closer to freedom from their dipshit Goomba-from-Mario-Bros-lookin’ motherfucker of a head coach.

Cleveland Browns (-3.5) at Cincinnati Bengals

I like to make fun of the Browns just like everyone else, but I’d prefer to see less digital ink spilled on QB Baker Mayfield’s crappy play and more celebration of DE Myles Garrett instead. Garrett is AWESOME. Through 6 games he has 7 sacks (2nd in the NFL) and 3 forced fumbles (also 2nd in the league), and those numbers don’t fully capture how disruptive and nightmarish he is for opposing offenses most weeks. Sure, he maybe tried to kill a guy with his helmet last year, but c’mon. That was just a harmless little goof. No reason to hold it against him, in my opinion. Like, have you seen what Mason Rudolph looks like? He had it coming.

I feel bad every time I pick against Joe Burrow because I want he and I to be friends, but *points to previous paragraph about how Myles Garrett swallows planets whole*.

Pittsburgh Steelers at Tennessee Titans (-1.5)

Last week I wrote a whole big thing (with stats to back it up!) in the Titans blurb about how Derrick Henry wasn’t playing well and was potentially wearing down, and then he proceeded to rush for over 200 yards and 2 TDs, including an unreal 94-yarder. I concede that I may have been misguided, and that attempting to use research is for lameass nerds. That said, I HIGHLY doubt he’ll have a huge day against the Steelers defense, but the combo of Henry and the Ryan Tannehill-led passing game should be able to put up enough points to win. 

These teams are both very good and very evenly matched, but I don’t want to pick Pittsburgh because I actively dislike them. You won’t find that kind of analysis on Football Outsiders, friends.

Carolina Panthers at New Orleans Saints (-7)

New Orleans will be without WRs Michael Thomas and Emmanuel Sanders for this one, and I think QB Drew Brees is too far over-the-hill to make chicken salad out of the chicken shit that remains in their group of pass catchers. RB Alvin Kamara is great, but he can’t do it by himself. Oh, and speaking of Michael Thomas, a report came out yesterday that the Saints are open to dealing him. This report came from Mike Florio, so grain of salt and all, but it did lead to me reading a rumor that Thomas’ teammates hate him and secretly call him “Can’t Stand Mike,” a play on his “Can’t Guard Mike” Twitter handle. I found this hilarious and very much want it to be true.

Let’s raise a glass to Panthers backup RB and fantasy football savior Mike Davis, as his gravy train likely comes to a halt after today with the impending return of Christian McCaffery. The New Orleans rush defense is very good, so I don’t see him going out in a blaze of glory, but his out-of-nowhere statistical bonanza deserves to be celebrated.

Buffalo Bills (-10) at New York Jets

LOL Jets Head Coach Adam Gase still hasn’t been fired despite losing 24-0 to Miami last week. What’s it gonna take, I wonder? A second consecutive shutout may do it, but the Bills defense has been terrible, so it’ll take a real commitment to ineptitude for the Jets to put up their second squadoosh in a row. NY QB Sam Darnold is returning to the lineup, but he’s going to be without his best weapon, WR Jamison Crowder. I honestly feel terrible for poor Sam, as he was drafted into the worst situation I can remember. At least David Carr was hit enough that he likely doesn’t remember ALL of the bad stuff. 

Nearly all of the Bills’ TEs are in the COVID-19 protocol, so I’m not sure how they’re gonna address that. BRING BACK JAY RIEMERSMA!

Dallas Cowboys at Washington Football Team (-1)

The Cowboys being underdogs against Washington is hilarious, even more so because it’s justified. I thought QB Andy Dalton would do a decent job leading the Cowboys offense last week against Arizona, and I was very, very wrong. I still think he can get his shit together somewhat, but the ceiling for this team has been lowered to “Darren Sproles might have to duck a bit” height. I can only condone watching this game for schadenfreude purposes, but even that’s stretching it. Any more than a quarter is just straight-up masochism.

Green Bay Packers (-3.5) at Houston Texans

I’m simultaneously excited to watch this game and struggling to come up with anything novel to say about it. I’m interested to see how Green Bay deploys their awesome CB Jaire Alexander, as whichever Texans WR avoids him is likely to be peppered with targets. Shoutout to Will Fuller’s hamstrings for holding up so far and allowing him to kick ass. 

As of right now it looks like Green Bay will be without studly RB Aaron Jones and sexy touchdown beast TE Robert Tonyan, which isn’t great. But, if there’s one opponent where you should still be ok using a backup RB, it’s the Houston Texans and their atrocious rush defense. Wait, why am I picking Houston? Whatever, fuck it, the heart wants what the heart wants.

LATE GAMES

Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A couple of days ago, it looked like the entire Las Vegas offensive line might miss this game due to being placed on the COVID-19/Reserve list. As of this writing, all those beefy boys are cleared to play, which is good news since they’re going against Tampa Bay’s top-shelf defense (ranked #1 in defensive DVOA). Even with their full compliment of offensive personnel, I still predict many hilarious angry and frustrated faces from Jon Gruden.

Tampa Bay has decided to sign WR Antonio Brown, despite already having two Pro Bowl-caliber receivers in Mike Evans and Chris Godwin. It’s pretty clear this signing was done entirely because QB Tom Brady wanted it, as Brady has been pushing for his team to sign Brown going back to last year in New England. It’s so weird, Tom Brady doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would advocate for an emotionally unstable and supremely narcissistic accused rapist who’s left multiple organizations in disarray upon his unceremonious departure.  

Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Denver Broncos

Fuck yeah, our first potential snow game of the year! The gametime forecast as of right now calls for 5-degree windchill temps with a 35-40 percent chance of flakes throughout. That sounds horrible to play in, but glorious to watch. If we don’t get at least one shot of steam rising off of an offensive lineman’s head I’m gonna be pissed. I’m curious to see what Kansas City does with newly acquired RB Le’Veon Bell in this game. He’s definitely played in more winter-weather games than my boy Clyde Edwards-Helaire, so do they give him more carries this week than they would normally? I hope not, but I can definitely see the argument for it.

San Francisco 49ers at New England Patriots (-3)

I’m a little shaken (relatively, I’m not a complete lunatic) by how shitty New England, and Cam Newton in particular, looked against Denver last week. The lack of practice time due to multiple COVID-related outbreaks is a valid reason for it, but still. I think the Niners are the much better team when healthy, but they’re gonna be missing their best RB Raheem Mostert for this game (and the next few), which does impede their power-run game somewhat. Backup Jerick McKinnon is still very good, he just has a different, less-demoralizing style. Handsome Jimmy will have to make some plays, and I think he can do just enough. The overall talent gap will be too much for NE to overcome, I fear.

Jacksonville Jaguars at Los Angeles Chargers (-7.5)

The Jags have lost five straight games coming into this one, while the Chargers have dropped four in a row. Something’s gotta give! I will say that the Jacksonville losses seem more depressing (3 of them were by double-digits), while even though L.A. is losing, they at least feel exciting. A shiny rookie QB who looks decent will do that, I guess. Still, I’m riding with my man Minshew to cover one last time here. If he fails, well, I think it’ll be time for us to go our separate ways. “Separate Ways” by Journey is also what plays in Gardiner Minshew’s helmet speaker instead of play calls, coincidentally. 

SNF: Seattle Seahawks (-3.5) at Arizona Cardinals

Seattle’s already abysmal secondary is going to be down Pro Bowl safety Jamal Adams for this one, so Cards QB Kyler Murray should be able to sling it around with relative ease. His best weapon, WR Deandre Hopkins is Questionable with a lingering ankle injury, but he’s been playing through it so far and it hasn’t seemed to slow him much. I think this is the week the magic runs out for the Seahawks, and they take their first L of the season. Russell Wilson can’t bail them out EVERY time. Probably. This game is likely to be the stylistic opposite of the Monday nighter, because...

MNF: Chicago Bears at Los Angeles Rams (-6)

...all signs point to this being a butt-ugly game. I like good defense, don’t get me wrong, but nobody should purposely watch Nick Foles and Jared Goff play QB against competent defenses. I suppose I can see some entertainment value in getting to see both Aaron Donald and Khalil Mack torment quarterbacks in the same game, but I think I’m gonna pass for the same reason that I don’t really like to watch animals get eaten in nature shows. I get that it’s the way things are meant to happen, but damn. I’m a real wimp, by the way.

Last Week’s Record: 7-7

Season Record: 44-38-4