#(she has a full ride but she's out of state so there's like a fee or smth she has to pay but it's still essentially a full ride)

[queridaz]

tryna plan my birthday dinner and just realized i can't afford it 😔😔

[humansofnewyork]

(2/12) “I tried to stay friends with Koreh when he came out of prison, but he was full blown. He didn’t seem like a kid anymore. There weren’t as many jokes. It was always: ‘What’s the next move? What’s the next play?’ He started saying crazy stuff, like: ‘If you want to be with me, you’ve gotta hold this gun.’ And he’s getting annoyed with me. Cause I’m like: ‘I can’t do this, bro.’ By that time I had my geek squad. These was cool kids on the debate team. A couple of the seniors were getting full rides to Ivy League schools. Debate seemed like it could be my ticket out. Some days we’d be in practice for four hours. In the beginning I was inconsistent. I didn’t like to research. So if the topic was about taxes or something, I’d do OK. But if it was personal, if it was ‘poor people this,’ or ‘drug addicts that,’ I’d destroy. On weekends we were going to tournaments all over the state. Nobody ever came to see me compete. My mom would keep saying: ‘I’m gonna be there baby,’ but she never came. At baseline my parents are the nicest people ever. But they were never at baseline. Ms. DiCo would give me these articles on drug addiction, and she’d be like, ‘Your parents do love you. They aren’t bad people. Let’s read this together.’ If she ever saw that my clothes were wrinkled, she’d offer to wash them. And when I didn’t have any money, she’d cover my tournament fees. Ms. DiCo knew that home was hell for a lot of us, so some nights she would stay until 8:30. She taught us how to focus and study. Don’t get me wrong, we was kids, so there was a lot of jumping on tables and stuff like that. But I got to where I could read twenty pages in fifteen minutes. At night I’d go home and stand in front of the mirror with pencils in my mouth, just to practice my articulation.  Ms. DiCo had this quote that she loved, from Victor Frankl: ‘He who has a why can endure almost any how.’ She would say it at the beginning of every practice. Some nights when we were finished she would take me out to pizza, and she’d speak life into me. She’d be like: ‘What is your why?’ I never had a good answer to that question. All I knew was that I wanted to be like Ms. DiCo.”

[mutiara-05]

I really hate watching the time passing me by and I also hate having to witness all my years fly so I hold my pen and sit down, it's time to write time for me to sort whats wrong and what's right but my life has been so fucking dull lately now so Ima tell you about my past and Ima keep it raw ok so back to the year of two thousands and five the mid of that year where I almost didn't survive was still in the womb and they announced me dead they scheduled curettage but "no" grandma said did a second check up and surprise I haven't died I was just chilling in there, was laying on my side now skip to mid august to my time to finally come I took about two days being a nightmare to mom well it's no surprise since she didn't want me at all but wanting a son he went and pinned her to a wall a disappointment since first breath by being a female my pink clothes highlighted the devil's clear fail the doctor who brought me said "she's a miracle" AB negative blood type yet she's alive.. untypical was hours old laying down when a nurse barged in yelling "a bomb was located, leave avoid your fin" the first four years of my life passed by really fast almost died a couple of times but that's the past got a bunch of allergies and one can easily kill me reason of death: a little peanut she couldn't see was five years old and already having trust issues but that's nothing because at six starts the abuse I've always wanted him to go a little bit further To stab him I needed an excuse since he's my father required straight A's while studying three languages school was an hour away and filled by dumb bitches made fun of and pushed around but I stood still all alone cause mama was busy to notice how I'm ill started writing at 6 as a joke but picked it at 10 for real I was alone and scarred I needed something to heal a couple failed tries then I wrote something so cool rushed to her feeling proud but she made me a fool I didn't hold a pen for full three years after that and I lost my spark while losing all the extra fat on sixth grade I failed to write an essay, no surprise costed me but I fixed it following my own advice high school started and was nothing like the movies from a teenage dream to a hell where you pay fees only one year then everything went down hill for me no hope, no dreams, not knowing who I should be fourteen was when I tried to take my life away but failed so I guess god really wanted me to stay now became dead inside using a fake smile to hide then knew an artist who took me to hope on a ride felt understood having a hero who knows my pain kept going by thinking about him under the rain by using his voice I crossed a phobia off of my list While aware he doesn't even know that I exist was struggling still but his smile helped me endure 2020 he left to cure his old left shoulder injure I remember so clear how I cried scared for him but he came back saving my life from being dim now 2021 oppression logged in after my hair cut overwhelmed I held a blue something ready to cut really wanting to see some red while killing myself but blacked out then woke under my books shelf I survived again so I had to create a second face living two lives and switching was the daily race but it's fine I was pretty chill, wanna know why? was waiting to be 17 believing that's when I'd die nineteenth august of two thousands twenty two at a restaurant waiting for two "friends" I knew many things went wrong that day but I didn't mind party's over, had a fight at home he won't be kind took a deep breath and calmly laid on my bed slept with a smile was sure by morning I'll be dead but "it's nine o'clock am" announced by my alarm I woke up at morning safe and sound with no harm my heart sank in why the fuck am I still here? I'm still alive I haven't died that's my biggest fear

Dressed up kinda overshowing to cover my state a couple males tried to hit, I lied: I'm not straight but "boys don't bite" oh yes I assure you they do I ain't letting my guard down, y'all stay safe tho went out with no permission to watch the world cup cool day but the loud sudden cheers fucked it up like sorry dudes I ruined such an important match you enjoy hearing cheers but I see a bloody patch skip that now its exams time I'm expected an A plus but I've been quite and over sleeping ain't it sus Results came back terrible, it ain't no surprise "How sad" "how unexpected" are my little lies let that too pass since it's now my birth month they took my light away and now I'm lost in a labyrinth decided I won't be celebrating nothing this year because I can't enjoy anything if he's not here I'm slipping back to a shadow that's blue and grey I'm slowly digging the dark grave where Ima lay but I don't care if my knees are buried in mud or even if I'm out there drowning in my own blood you can always start a battle and turn it to a war then put me in it with no gun no sword nor armour I can face the snipers alone and slay them all standing over cold bodies, you know I never fall I really don't need nobody, I don't wanna be saved save your pity, sweetness wasn't something I craved was once just a little girl who needed a warm hug but now a tomboy as cold as my iced coffee mug today I finally accepted that I am the villain here so fuck all of the promises I've made, am I clear? I ain't staying and I ain't trying, we won't go out won't write for nobody won't live in the same route I do have a list for the promises so I didn't forget but when I go extra for people I end with regret she was innocent one day but they hurt her a lot I built her a castle with high walls, for her I fought all she ever wanted was someone to read her a story now she write those and overuse the word sorry Dear lord I'm sorry for not being the best believer sorry that I only pray when I get a strong fever I'm sorry to my cousin, I cant keep being your idol I'm sorry grandma when you were alive I didn't call and I'm so sorry grandpa if I was ever too cold sorry aunt I stopped loving you when I got old sorry to my uncle who died the month I was born I blame myself for it every day and I'm still torn sorry to my "friends" I never loved you enough so sorry to the boy I turned down, I was rough sorry to the sun and the star that I did wrong you'll both keep shining in the lines of my song sorry to mama that I'm not the perfect daughter and sorry but I hate you so fucking much father to six thousands five hundred and seventy four days of me existing while being dead to my core

[kiermurphy]

✽ . ˚ &. 「 ROBERT SHEEHAN. 34. MALE. HE/HIM. 」 KIERAN MURPHY occupies LEVEL FOUR: #405. you'll know THE SAGITTARIUS is home if you hear send me on my way by RUSTED ROOT blasting through their speakers. the YOGA INSTRUCTOR has been living in wisteria for 2 WEEKS. since then they've built a reputation for being lively and scatterbrained, typical for THE VAGABOND.

■ BASICS ■

NAME: Kieran Murphy

AGE: thirty-four

GENDER: male

PRONOUNS: he/him

SEXUALITY: pansexual

HOMETOWN: dublin, ireland

EDUCATION: secondary school

OCCUPATION: con artist yoga instructor

tw: drug mention

■ QUICK FACTS ■

Growing up in Ireland Kieran got into a bit too much trouble with the law and with his peers, swindling all the lads around him for anything of value

He realized from a young age he was quite good at it, and decided to capitalize on his talents full-time

Though he wouldn’t label himself as a grifter, that’s exactly what he is. He picks out his mark, worms his way into their life, and bleeds them dry

Unfortunately for Kieran, he is really bad at picking them

He has snorted, drank, smoked, and tried just about every drug he could get his hands on

The man lives with a carefree attitude, very rarely worrying about finances or keeping a roof over his head, it’s so easy for him to try and charm his way into people’s lives

Speaking of charm, he was a cult leader at one point

He’s left-handed, doesn’t know how to ride a bike, and has a special fondness for birds and small dogs. And the occasional cat

He dresses as lavishly and as provocatively as possible. Of course this gets him a lot of stares but he loves attention

■ BIOGRAPHY ■

Born in Dublin, Kieran grew up in a relatively normal household with his failure of a musician father, and his mum, a schoolteacher

His poor parents struggling to make ends meet gave little attention to their wayward son. His father was a deadbeat alcoholic, and his mother just didn’t have the time to spare

Being as unruly and attention-seeking as he was, his parents eventually sent him to live with his old aunt Fiona at the age of 15, who was far from lucid, bless her soul

Fortunately for him, his aunt thought he was his dad, and that they were living in their old childhood home instead of her rundown flat in Hackney. He used the opportunity to try and make a name for himself instead of attending class like all the other good schoolchildren

Up until the age of 18 he worked the odd job until he’d befriended an expat American woman, 7 years his senior, and married her. He convinced her the life they would build together when she returned stateside would be everything she ever dreamed of; and so, several years later, they returned together to California 

Whenever anyone asks how he managed to get a green card, he states he sought political asylum in America on account of ‘the potato famine’ in Ireland

By 25 all his hard work had finally paid off. And by 26, one year after living in America, he was divorced. Nobody had told him how difficult it would be trying to build a life for himself there 

Determined to live out his sole dream of living a rock n’roll lifestyle, it was then he used up all his savings to buy a mini-bus, cruising across the West coast and picking up stragglers along the way

He began looking into establishing a non-profit religious organization that would allow him to become tax-exempt, giving him the perfect opportunity to rake in tons of money while never paying a cent to uncle sam

His ‘organization’ did not hold. His followers eventually exposed him as a fraud, causing him to make a quick getaway to Mexico before the authorities could get involved

Only when things quieted down did he return. He completely changed his game, deciding to capitalize on the health & wellness industry instead. With all the barefoot, bohemian, goat yoga fanatics that LA had to offer, he finally feels he’s found his calling 

If hired as a Yoga instructor he will teach it - but his fees are exorbitant. Luckily for him, LA is full of people where money is not an issue

[niebuhrcarstensen5]

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[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Road Less Travelled (Legolas x Reader) (Part 2)

A/N: A continuation of my Fellowship x Pregnant! Reader story, in which you ended up choosing Legolas to help raise your unplanned child. Part 2 can be read without reading part 1 first.

Synopsis: Life with Legolas, your two daughters and your treehouse is perfect, until one night, parental instincts go on ignored, and things go deeply awry.

Warnings: I watched The Conjuring before bed tonight and was unfortunately inspired. Enjoy. Also Legolas is a cute adoptive father send tweet.

Pairings: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 2610

Rain fell heavily outside, though yourself and your family did not feel said rain. Buried below glorious crowns of leaves, your treehouse was situated securely.

Built into the thick trunk of an Ithilien tree by Legolas’ own bare hands, your treehouse was set with two bedrooms, and resembled an elevated cottage more than anything else. Around the length of the cosy home, a rounded balcony lay.

Leading down from said balcony was an old rope your children used to climb to and from home. One broken ankle later from your youngest twin, however, and a winding set of stairs was built into the trunk below, too — leading up to your balcony.

And indeed, “twins” was right.

Learning on the Fellowship’s journey that you were pregnant with that no-good Brander’s child was shocking enough, let alone discovering at the actual birth that said little baby’s embryo had split into two, providing you with a set of beautiful daughters.

Fortunately, they were nothing alike their biological father in spirit — possessing kind hearts and noble souls instead. Even more fortunately, they garnered your looks. Regarding their appearances, although twins, they each held distinctive differences.

Perhaps the luckiest of all, your old Fellowship colleague, now turned husband, seemed to have the most influence on both Ivorwen and Tobrien — better known simply as “Ivy” and “Toby”.

Rabbit stew, a recipe sent from your Shire friends, was made for dinner that night, as the four of you sat around a wooden table and ate merrily, enjoying the lively atmosphere the warm candles provided.

“There is still hair on the meat!” Ivy insisted, though, the grin on her 9-year-old cheeks gave away her agenda.

“There is not!” Legolas urged back, sharing her grin.

You and Toby laughed brightly, passing a plate of rolls between one another. This argument had been going on since before any of you had even sat down.

Ivy made a show of stabbing a chunk of rabbit and holding it up. “Yes, there is! See? There’s hair on it! You’re a horrible cook after all!”

Legolas made a show of squinting his eyes and leaning across the table to inspect the chunk of rabbit, before settling back into his chair and pressing on.

“That’s most likely your own hair! How many times have I encouraged you to learn my version of braiding?” Legolas pointed out, gesturing to his own locks.

Your eyes crinkled with amusement and love, as you watched the dad and daughter exchange teasing words, even if none of those words were actually “dad”, “father” or even “ada”.

“You’re impossible, Varno,” Ivy shook her head, still smiling nonetheless. “Just admit your talent lies in hunting and not in cooking.”

“I resent that accusation,” Legolas playfully warned, pointing a fork at Ivy.

“Varno” was a name both you and Legolas had decided upon. “Ada” reminded him too much of his own father, and “uncle” simply felt too misplaced.

So, instead, “Varno” was decided upon — meaning “protector” in Legolas’ own language, which is exactly what he had been for you, ever since that fateful night by the campfire you’d learnt of your predicament.

Although many of your friends and colleagues that evening offered you their hand in marriage, you had felt a maternal stirring within you. Something told you to choose the best of the best for your unborn offspring, and who better than a steadfast elf to keep you safe?

You had been watching Legolas one night, a few evenings after learning of the life growing within you, with your hand over your stomach.

Although you still didn’t quite have the full comprehension of knowledge behind this, you truly believed, till this day, that both Ivy and Toby told you to “choose that one—he’s our dad”.

Resolute in your mind, you approached Legolas and accepted his offer of marriage. He was ecstatic and gleeful, and then a little boastful to the other suitors. Cockiness befell him for a short while, until your stomach grew and a paternal kick changed him.

He matured overnight and grew from a young archer into an awaiting father, despite the girls not being his. That never slowed him, though—he was a better father to Ivy and Toby than some real dads were to their own children.

He soon married you after the war, and the rest was history.

After you had to break Legolas and Ivy’s “fight” up with a laugh and a motherly warning, the table was cleared.

“All right, dishes to the kitchen, and then teeth,” Legolas announced, quirking a brow in Ivy’s direction as she walked past.

Legolas mouthed to her that their fight wasn’t over, and Ivy made a show of raising her brows once in challenge.

“She gets that from Gimli, I know it. Don’t ask me how,” Legolas whispered to you, as you too walked by.

“Intrusive visits and loud Yules,” you joked, grinning over your shoulder at your best friend.

Grimacing, Legolas winced his teeth with a hiss. “Do not speak of such holidays, let us just enjoy the autumn while it lasts.”

“You don’t want Yule to come soon?” Toby asked, appearing from behind Legolas, and peeking her head around his torso to gaze up in his direction. “What about toys?”

“Galadriel sends the best, and nothing has topped the bow she gave me in Lothlorien eight years ago,” Legolas replied. “Have you brushed your teeth yet, aranel?” (princess)

Toby made a prolonged noise, as she beamed brightly to show off her teeth.

“No, I don’t fall for pretty girls and pretty teeth, thank you very much,” said Legolas shaking his head. “Breath test.”

He bent down and allowed her to piggyback ride him. Standing swiftly, he looked over his shoulder and at her, where she then breathed loudly with an open mouth into his face.

Legolas scrunched his nose and recoiled. “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell someone with stinky gums. And I’ve been to Mordor.”

Toby’s eyes grew bright with excitement. “Will you tell us another Fellowship story tonight?”

“Only if you brush your teeth,” Legolas answered, nuzzling his nose with hers.

Ivy walked past again, done with her dishes, and scoffed at Legolas. “Don’t listen to him, Toby. It’s bribery!”

Legolas gently kicked her ankle as she walked by, although, a feather could’ve done more damage—your “gentle giant”, you called him.

“Very well then, tonight I’ll tell you all about the Mouth of Sauron, and why brushing your teeth is important,” Legolas said again, turning around to watch the eldest twin head for the bathroom down the hall.

She waved him off over her shoulder, before disappearing to brush her teeth.

Toby swiftly kissed Legolas’ cheek, before dismounting from the piggyback ride and skipping after her sister.

You watched from the kitchen sink with a warm smile, and wiped a bowl with a dry rag. You observed the ardent love in Legolas’ eyes, as he watched the hall for a minute, where Toby and Ivy could be heard giggling over their dad’s cooking skills.

He finally shook his head and turned to you, wearing a content smile of his own. Catching your warm expression, he walked towards you with a sly question on his tongue.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, returning to the dishes. “But have I ever thanked you for marrying me and helping me to raise those two ladies?”

“Ladies is a stretching term,” said Legolas, coming up behind you with a wrapping of your torso and a burying of his cheek in your hair, as he hugged you from behind, “but no—I don’t think the few thousand times is enough. Could you perhaps tell me once more?”

You melted into his hug, laughed like bright bells, and turned around. Wrapping your own arms around him, you buried your head into his shoulder and embraced him tightly.

“Well, thank you,” you emphasised, teasing him slightly.

Rocking the hug a little, he kissed the top of your head, and responded after a moment. “Actually, it is you all the thanks is owed to—I never assumed a life like this would be possible for me, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” you agreed, squeezing the hug once more.

You both stayed like that for a moment, before he kissed the top of your head again and let go. “You can ready the girls for bed if you’d like, I’ll finish up here.”

You lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, before walking away. Your hands remained held until the distance you walked grew too much, and Legolas had to let go to stay in front of the sink.

He smiled after you, as you disappeared around the wall.

Sighing in tranquillity, as the rain grew outside, Legolas looked out the glass window to his side. All he could make out were tree trunks through the rain and moonlight, and the prince basked in the sense of home for a few seconds.

However, the placid state could only last for so long. Unsure if the girls teasing him all day on their rabbit hunt had just worn him down, or if his eyes were indeed working correctly, a sway of trees exposed a trunk in the distance, where Legolas could have sworn he saw a body scaling.

Narrowing his eyes and knitting his brows, the archer moved closer to the glass window. As his breath fogged up the glass, Legolas moved as close as he dared to the window, observing the distant trunk.

Peering harder and harder, Legolas prayed for the wind to sway the leaves again, so he could view the tree. However, before he had the chance to do so, a quick voice from behind startled him.

“C’mon, Varno!” Toby urged, waving her dad to follow. “Me and Ivy are ready for the bedtime story!”

Legolas jumped on his feet, most unlike an elf indeed, and snapped his eyes over his shoulder to his daughter. Meeting her young gaze, he calmed.

Although, with the odd anomaly on the distant trunk still on his mind, Legolas turned back to the window. The leaves swayed again, and Legolas saw the tree once more. However, this time, no beings scaled the side of it.

He swallowed his nerves and shook his head, as his daughter called him once more.

“Varno?” Her voice was slow and unsure.

Meeting her eyes again, he beamed brightly and ran forwards. Scooping her loudly laughing self into his arms, he spun around and lifted her high—all whilst heading down the hall.

Toby’s laughs and Legolas’ eagle noises alerted you first, as they flew into the bedroom. “Eagle Attack” was a game he’d played with the girls since birth, where he’d lift them high, making them “fly”, and screech obnoxiously.

It usually ended with him gently throwing them down onto a bed or couch, in an effort to tire them out before slumber. Tonight, apparently, was no different.

“Aren’t we a little too old for Eagle Attack, Varno?” Ivy taunted, already sitting cross-legged on her bed, as you brushed her hair beside her.

“I’m over two thousand-years-old, and I still find it fun,” Legolas taunted back. He collapsed onto Toby’s bed with her backwards, leaving the younger twin a laughing mess.

“I do not think that tires them out as much as you believe,” you advised, shaking your head with a smile in your husband and daughter’s direction, who asked for the ride again.

“That’s why I have stories hidden up my sleeve,” Legolas replied. He sat up on his elbows, and smirked at you.

You gave him a playful frown, before finishing Ivy’s hair. Kissing your daughter’s cheek, you began tucking her in.

Legolas readied one candle, and dimmed all the other lanterns, so sleep would find the girls swiftly. Soon, as you tended to Ivy and he to Toby, Legolas’ story began.

It was one you remembered well, and one you also didn’t want to. You appreciated how comical Legolas delivered the story, in a way accessible to children, for there was nothing child-friendly about that war.

It wasn’t long after that, that soft snores from the girls filled the room.

Bringing the woollen blanket up to each daughter’s chin, and kissing their temples, you and Legolas bid them a soft goodnight from the door.

Closing it behind yourselves, you both began the small journey down the hall back to your shared room. He wrapped one arm around your back, and led you safely to the door.

Upon entering the room, you each made your way to your own beds. You had only shared a few kisses on the lips throughout your marriage, usually in times of great emotion, like the birth of your daughters, or the wedding itself.

Yours and Legolas’ marriage was almost entirely platonic, but he loved you more than any other, and you him. Only Ivy and Toby were counted among his other greatest loves, with you sitting safe right beside them.

Although nothing physical or lustful of nature took place between you, your relationship was one of deep devotion, and you had, in your own way, each pledged yourselves entirely to one another.

It was simply the most beautiful friendship, and one neither of you forsook.

Fluffing up your pillow, you rearranged your bed, which was only a metre away from Legolas’ own. He did the same, and hummed to himself slightly over the rain outside.

“This weather is a little intense, isn’t it?” you spoke up, looking at the roof above once in gesture.

He followed your gaze and agreed from behind his concerned frown. “I was almost worried earlier that the roof would collapse, with the leaves now falling and such.”

“For its seventh autumn, it isn’t doing too bad,” you decided, now sliding into bed.

“Agreed,” Legolas smiled, commending himself and his handiwork.

As he slipped into his own sheets, Legolas thought of what he saw earlier scaling the trunk. You were just about to reach over, wish your best friend a goodnight, before turning the candle out, until Legolas’ voice stopped you.

“Actually, meleth nîn—” he called, earning a blinking back of your eyes.

Conflicted over his own words, that same paternal feeling that kicked within him eight years ago drove his instincts. Sucking on his lower lip in thought, Legolas decided to trust whatever his gut was telling him, and lifted his blankets over to the side.

He beckoned you to slide into the covers with him. It was nothing unusual for you both, for many nights you had spent sleeping in the same bed with him. It first started in those early winter days, when your teeth chattered and your bones shivered.

His body warmth provided both solace and security, until you each grew so comfortable around one another that hugging in your sleep seemed as casual as a pat on the shoulder.

You almost went to tease him about being touch-starved or something of the likes, until you saw the look behind his eyes. They were the eyes of a concerned patriarch, and you knew better than to disagree with him.

After all, you knew to trust your own maternal instincts. His were no different.

Without saying a word, you slipped out from your bed and climbed into his, relishing in the warmth of his arms. He kissed the top of your head goodnight, before turning the candle off.

Only a small percentage of the fear within his stomach subsided, but he tried hard to fight it away. Nonetheless, the rain lulled him to sleep, where he then fell into a light slumber alongside you.

That is, until the bloodcurdling screaming of the girls started.

[a-write-for-soreeyes]

Making Bets | Seo-Joon [True Beauty] x Gender Neutral!Reader

summary: making bets with your boyfriend Seo-Joon was NEVER a good idea, but when a no kiss bet with a promise of a week of dates comes up, how could you refuse?

word count: 2280

a/n: sorry i’ve been so absent! it’s been really hard to finish writing anything i’ve started recently but i’ve got something in the works i hope you all enjoy! :D <3

———————————————-

Making bets with Han Seo-joon was never a good idea. But, when the prize was a full week where the winner gets to choose a week of dates… how could I say no.

“y/n I don’t get why you said yes to this bet, we all know you can’t even last through first period without a kiss from Seo-joon.” Soo-a said as she cuddled further into Tae-hoon’ side on the bench across the lunch table, “yah, we all know you guys are all over each other whenever possible,” Tae-hoon groaned out leaning his head on Soo-a’, “speak of the devil.” looking up from shuffling food around my tray I saw Seo-joon approaching the table trailing just behind Ju-kyung and Soo-ho’s linked arm forms looking a little more than disgruntled at the couple walking in front of him.

“Hello love birds, how nice of you to grace us with your presence on this fine monday morning.” Tae-hoon teased as the other couple sat next to me, Seo-joon taking the last spot to the right of Soo-a, across from me.

“What Seo-joon, not going to kiss your partner hello?” Soo-ho joked as he kissed Ju-Kyung’ cheek before picking food up from his plate and feeding her.

“Morning.” Seo-joon whispered, barely sparing me a glance before looking back at his tray. “Morning babe.” I whispered back.

“So y/n...I heard you and Seo-joon made a bet over the weekend. What’s up with that?” Ju-Kyung asked pushing her hair over her shoulder and turning my way, “oh,” clearing my throat, “Well, Seo-joon's friends were complaining over the weekend about how much we kiss each other in front of them, so we decided to make a bet on how long we could go without kissing each other, and whoever caves in first loses. But, the winner gets to decide a full week of dates the loser has to pay for.” I stated.

“OOO! That sounds fun! We both know you guys though, and we know you both wont last 3 days!” Soo-a joked, causing the rest of the table to laugh, “what plans do you have to win?” she continued.

“Well, I’m not sure to be honest,” I chuckled running a stressed hand through my hair, “I think I’m just going to try and focus on something else other than kissing him, even though that’s going to be hard.” I said laughing a little, sticking my tongue out at Seo-joon just to tease him.

“Well if you need any help y/n just let us know, Ju-kyung and I would be happy to help!” Soo-a said, as everyone returned to their lunches.

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

“y/n it’s been 2 days and you’re already starting to annoy us with all your whining about missing your ‘sweet precious Seo-joon’” Soo-jin joked, making a silly whiny voice at the end causing the other girls around the table with us to laugh at her terrible impression of me.

“Ya Soo-ho has been telling me about how annoying Seon-joon has been about this whole bet thing and he’s just about ready to kill him.” Ju-kyung laughed.

Sighing I took a sip of my milkshake, “I know, we’re so annoying but I don’t know what to do, I really miss him, but I don’t want to have to pay for all the dates we’d be going on.”

“Well why don’t you try to seduce him?” Soo-jin started, “I mean you’re closing at your work tomorrow right? Why don’t you invite him over for a late night swim after you close? I mean your boss shouldn’t mind if you don’t tell them right?”

“That’s,,,that’s not a bad idea Soo-jin.”

“Ya! And you can ask him tomorrow at school in front of all his friends! He’d be crazy to say no in front of them! especially to a makeout session in a pool!” Ju-Kyung reasoned, Soo-a shaking her head in agreement at our master plan.

“Alright then! Tomorrow at school.” I stated, taking the last sip of my milkshake.

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

“Hey baby.” I said walking right up to Seo-joon in the hallway, effectively stopping Seo-joon and his posse in their tracks.

“Oh, uhh, hey honey, how’s it going?” Seo-joon said, startled by my sudden appearance in front of him.

“Hey y/n!” one of Seo-joons friends said cheerfully. Paying his friend no mind I started to lean in closer to Seo-joon, causing him to lean his head back to avoid mine.

“So listen, I was thinking about going swimming at my work later? My boss is letting me close alone tonight since I’ve got the late shift?” I said leaning in closer with each sentence. Looking into Seo-joon's widened eyes at my statement.

Hearing his friends muffled laughing from behind him, he cleared his throat composing himself, “thanks for the offer baby but uh- i'm busy tonight.” he said hurriedly, before pushing past me and making his way into the classroom behind us, sitting at his desk hiding his flushed face and trying to ignore his friends teasing.

Looking over to Soo-a and Ju-Kyung I shook my head. Soo-a's expression turned to one of disappointment and Ju-Kyung letting out a hufft that our plan hadn’t worked.

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

“Soo-aaaaaa, our plan didn’t wooorrrrkk.” I whined, placing my head on my hand and leaning against the lunch table, “I don’t know what I'm supposed to do anymore, it’s been 6 days and I miss him.”

“y/n dude we know you miss him but you gotta stop talking about how much you miss him, it’s all you’ve been talking about since this whole bet started.” Tae-hoon complained.

“Listen, it’s not my fault that he’s so perfect and that every time I see him I just wanna kiss his perfect lips.” I whined my head slipping down my arm as I stared at Seo-joon from across the lunch room.

“Well if I were you and I wanted to avoid kissing my boyfriend I would just ignore him until he gives in.” Ju-kyung said between mouthfuls of rice and meat off of her lunch tray, “thanks babe.” Soo-ho said sarcastically as he looked at Ju-kyung blank faced, “no problem honey, only telling you the truth.” She joked before giving him a quick kiss on the lips, which he gladly accepted.

“I hate you guys and your cute-and-able-to-kiss-each-other, relationships.” I sighed, “well I guess ignoring him until he gives in isn’t such a bad idea.”

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

“Hey baby.” Seo-joon whispered as he placed his arm above me on the wall leaning in. “h-hey Seo-joon, how-how’s your day been?” I stuttered out trying to look him in the eyes, “My day’s better now that I've seen you.” He stated, gently lifting my face to properly look him in the eyes. “Listen honey, I have to get going to class but how about after school I take you to that book store you’ve been begging me to take you to”,

“Y-yeah, that would be nice thanks.”

“Good.” He leaned in to kiss me, feeling his warm breath fan across my face, causing me to flush. Closing my eyes I waited for the final push of his lips against mine, but instead felt the cold take the place of his warm breath as he suddenly pulled away his light laughter mixing with the small snickers of his friends watching the interaction, “see ya later baby.” he stated walking off down the hallway, his friends chasing after him, congratulation him on the little stunt he pulled on me. Seeing Ju-kyung, Soo-a and Soo-jin shaking their heads out of the corner of my eye, Soo-jin tutted “using your own tactic against you, that’s evil. but, man, you’ve got it bad for that boy. Good luck paying for all those dates.”

“I’m gonna have to try a lot harder to ignore him if he’s going to keep pulling stunts like that.” I sighed.

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

It’s been 8 days since the bet had started, and it hadn’t gotten any easier to not kiss him. We’ve been effectively avoiding each other, this afternoon at school being the first time we’ve spoken since last thursday.

“Thanks for paying my bus fee. You didn’t have to do that” I thanked Seo-joon awkwardly as we took a seat at the very back of the bus.

“Of course, you’re my partner, you think I'd make you pay your own bus fee?” he laughed lightly, reaching out for my hand. Quickly yanking my hand away from his grasp I cleared my throat fixing my uniform shirt, looking away before I could get drawn back in by him.

“How was your day? You know besides great because now you’re seeing me.” he joked trying to drag my gaze away from the window to my left, “it was fine thanks, boring but you know how it is, stressed for the test on friday though.” I tried to joke, switching my gaze from the window to my fingers, playing with the hem of my dressshirt.

Sitting in awkward silence for the rest of the bus ride, we finally arrived at the small corner bookstore Ju-kyung recommended I check out.

“You know I could have just driven us here on my motorcycle right?”

“Well yeah but you know how I feel about your motorcycle, you’re gonna get killed on that think Seo-joon.” I joked, knocking his shoulder lightly, trying to lighten the mood from the tense bus right here. “Here let me get that for you.” Seo-joon said softly as he grabbed the door handle pulling it open for me to enter the warmth of the small store.

“Ah welcome!” the man at the front desk said as he pulled his headphones up from his neck to cover his ears, “FEEL FREE TO LOOK AROUND.” he yelled over the blasting rock music coming from his headphones.

Seo-joon and I quickly thanked him before walking further into the winding stacks of manga, making sure to be well out of earshot before bursting into fits of giggles over the yelling of the man at the front desk, calming down slightly before hearing him knock over a drink and letting out a few loud curses, throwing us back into our fits of giggles, leaning in Seo-joon's warmth trying to calm down.

Pulling away from him I cleared my throat before making my way further into the store fixing my uniform sweater to try and calm my warming face. Hearing Seo-joon clear his own throat before following a few steps behind me.

Running my fingers softly over the spines of manga looking for a title that grabbed me, I scanned the bookshelf spotting a title I recognized. “Seo-joon look!” I spoke excitedly pointing to the book I recognized on the top shelf, “My sister and I used to read them when we were younger, we would fight over our single copy for hours trying to read it before the other was able to.” I laughed lightly at the memory, not noticing Seo-joon's soft gaze watching me ramble about my childhood. Reaching up to try and grab the book I switched to standing on my tiptoes stretching my arm up as far as possible mumbling to myself, cursing my parents for making me so short. Just as I felt my finger tips brush the cracked spine of the manga a large hand came out of my right field vision grabbing the book off the shelf for me. “Ah thank you baby.” I thanked Seo-joon turning to him, reaching out for the book he still held in his much larger hands, however being slightly startled at how close he was actually standing to me.

Standing still for a few moments just looking at each other I broke the silence, “thanks for grabbing that for me. Could I please have the book now?” my voice coming out in barely a whisper. Not getting any sort of response from Seo-joon I asked him, “Seo-joon? What’s wrong ba-” not being able to get through the full sentence before feeling the breath knocked out of me as Seo-joon pressed his lips against mine, effectively ending the bet in one, beautiful, breathtaking, sweet kiss.

Pulling back after a few moments to catch out breath I looked up at him, eyes slightly closed still relishing in the feeling of the kiss we shared, a soft warm light coming from the shop's eclectic lighting fixtures, haloing him making him look more ethereal than I have ever seen him. “Sorry I didn’t ask you if I could kiss you, but I just saw you rambling about the book you were passionate about, and you look so cute with your hair falling in front of your face like it is,” he whispered lovingly pushing a strand of hair out of my sight, “and I just realized. I love you.” he stated, taking a deep breath in waiting for my reaction to his first confession.

Looking at me worriedly waiting for my reaction. “I love you too Seo-joon” I whispered, standing on my tiptoes, burying my face in his neck embarrassed at the first proper confession of our love for each other. Feeling Seo-joon smile into my neck he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer into his warm body, standing back, flat on my feet he buried me further into his chest, the both of us relishing in the warmth the others love provided.

“You know, I think our first date this week should be the movies tomorrow.” I started to laugh, feeling his chest rumble beneath my head he sighed lightly,

“You’re going to drain my bank account dry this week with these dates aren’t you?”

“Hahaha! Maybe I am. It’s only because I love you though.”

“I love you too”

[curiousconch]

Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 3)

Part 3: Remember when everything was different

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Aislinn, Gigi and Alex find friendship in the midst of the competition. One discussion led to another, pushing Alex to take a trip down memory lane, revealing the moment in her past where she and Gabe's paths crossed for the first time.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 1.7k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, language. Scenes/themes may trigger trauma for some, reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

Sunday, downtown New York

"Wait, can you back up for a moment," Aislinn said across Alex, who was scooping the remains of her melted banana split. Gigi was sipping her ice-cold mimosa, their brunch table full of plates with scrapes of leftovers. The sun was out and so were they, dining al fresco under the shade of a huge white parasol and the gentle breeze cooling them every now and then. It was a perfect day so far.

The trio has agreed to meet up that Sunday to discuss what went down with the Rothswell case as well as to prep for the conference Sadie had invited them to. They were on some kind of a peace pact, all of them sharing the view that pitting women against women in the corporate world is just shitty business.

Alex has enjoyed their company. They exchanged imaginary one-liners that would have made Martin frown his heart out or Beau McGraw chortle his head off. And speaking of McGraw, they all concluded that the best strategic course of action was to let Beau enjoy his moment in the sun. One day, Alex would make sure to remind him that he tried to rain on her parade.

It was a refreshing and enlightening discussion, though she will forever be traumatized with how many swears Gigi can cram in a single sentence. But the sight of a flustered Aislinn while Alex and Gigi engaged in a battle of pick-up lines with their waiter was a strong second contender.

As their drinks flowed, the conversation naturally led to rhetorical questions, now settling at why they became a lawyer. Aislinn shared first, surprisingly, stating that her knack for analysis was just a natural fit to the demands of a career in law. Gigi's answer was simple - she can leverage her eidetic memory to earn herself some serious dough, allowing her to live it up and take impromptu vacations to Bali.

Alex tried to dodge the question. She had never needed to discuss her reason of leaving pre-med behind to attend law school. It wasn't a pleasant memory, and she doubted it will ever be.

The two ladies were quick to see her attempts of evasion. But together, they finally wore her down, Alex left laughing with their shenanigans as they cornered her to tell her story. So she told them that she knew Gabe Ricci. And that it was because of him why she was a lawyer. Alex decided that revealing the truth was worth it, seeing how their jaws just dropped to the floor.

"Girl, you have to explain yourself right now," Gigi demanded, to which Aislinn seconded.

Alex snorted as she went back to skimming what was left of her dessert. "It's a boring sob story, and I don't want to turn this lovely morning into a snooze fest."

"We're not going anywhere, right Gi?" Aislinn turned to Gigi beside her, who nodded whilst sipping another glass of cocktail.

"Fine, but only if you swear this won't leave this table," she said. The two held up their hands invoking a half-smiling Alex, sensing nothing but sincerity. So she drank down her glass of bloody mary and took a deep breath, composing her tale.

"Buckle up, ladies, you're in for a ride."

**

10 years ago, in a town near Boston

Alessandra Keating had never felt more alone than she did that day.

They said she needed to just move forward. But how can she, when every day since the crash, she felt nothing but emptiness? How can she feel alright, when the only life that she knew was suddenly taken away from her?

It wasn't long before she found out that the car accident was caused by someone being reckless, by someone who thought they were above the law. Then, she imploded. No way could she let her parent's deaths be forgotten. No fucking way.

For the past three years, she invested all of herself into this endeavor. Researching, studying, choosing the right counsel, even raising funds. It was what kept her breathing, what gave her purpose. Ultimately, it was what kept her sane.

From filing the lawsuit to attending mediations, to numerous settlement meetings and colliding with every legal roadblock possible - Alex made sure to see them through. Only for everything to be decided that day - the bench trial.

One sweltering summer morning in her hometown's courthouse, Alex sat on the side of the plaintiff, with her long brunette hair tangled in waves. She let her senses wander, taking in the dark wooden panels and pews, her sense of smell invaded by the scent of old mahogany. She sealed her lips into silence, hiding her nerves by straightening the bargain khaki suit that she borrowed.

She barely held it in as her eyes travelled to the table beside them, catching a glimpse of the man that caused her immeasurable pain. With jet black hair and looking as young as her, he sat with an almost mocking expression. He was wearing a crisper set of suit, creating an illusion of trustworthiness that Alex can easily see through.

Maximilian K. Cornell. The green-eyed teenager who swerved his sports car onto the same slippery road Alex and her parents were passing through. The very same boy who got out unharmed, but left Alex's family to die in the snow. Her opponent was a slithery snake who managed to screw the justice system so many times over, just because his parents had the grease to do so.

But after the crash, the town decided they can no longer turn the other cheek. Alex's decision to sue was propelled by the support of the countless friends and families whom her parents have helped in their hour of need. But that still proved not enough.

Her mind whirled back to the proceedings, and to how every strategy, every plan of attack was being thrown out. With every whip from the defense, she started to grow impatient. As another traffic expert from her camp was dismissed, Alex just snapped inside. She leaned to Mr. Leroy, a withering man on the brink of retirement who was her lawyer, asking for them to convene outside.

"I'm sorry Mr. Leroy, but your strategies were just scrutinized and torn into pieces," Alex said in a low voice the moment they stepped out into the hallway.

"Alex, I am doing my best here. We clearly don't have the upper hand, lacking the incriminating evidence that we need," the man replied, exasperated.

"Have we dug up his previous records? I mean, why on earth would he have a sealed history? Doesn't that mean something?" she continued.

She continued to dictate her litany of better-positioned moves, but even Alex knew she wasn't getting through. So she excused herself from the conversation, hoping a cup of iced coffee will somehow mitigate her frustrations.

As soon as she came back, she found Mr. Leroy convening with a much younger man in a dark navy suit. His aura screamed "big city hotshot", albeit the exhausted look in his brown eyes. Not wanting to interrupt, she held off from approaching. However, her curiosity didn't stop her from eavesdropping.

What she heard the charismatic man say was a legal precedent that would have opened the sealed records in question. And with all the mind-boggling legal jargon, that's just about what she understood.

"Gabriel Ricci? I'm looking for an attorney named Gabriel Ricci?" a female voice from a nearby window called out, which made the young man raise his head. She saw him end the conversation abruptly, where a flustered Mr. Leroy hastily thanked him. Alex took that as her queue to approach her lawyer.

"Alex, we might be able to turn things around," she heard Leroy say.

And by some miracle, things did turn around. With her lawyer using the precedent offered by the young attorney earlier, their side gained the needed momentum to tip the scales in their favor. By the end of the trial, the verdict was out - Cornell will never be able to drive another vehicle, along with paying her a hefty amount of damages and fees.

They won.

Alex had to pinch herself before the victory sunk in. When it did, she felt an immense burden lifted from her shoulders.

After a long, long time, Alex can finally breathe.

Broken free from her nightmares, she asked herself what's next? The answer came to her almost immediately. Right there and then, she decided what she wanted to be. Like that man from the courthouse, she will become a lawyer.

Fueled by this new sense of mission, she saw a future for herself. No longer held by the past, she finally was able to move forward.

Indeed, Alex became what she set out to do - a lawyer who took on hopeless, even impossible cases and won them. A lawyer her parents would be proud of.

A damn good lawyer, just like Gabriel Ricci.

**

Present Day, at a New York Penthouse

Gabe sat in his home office clad in nothing but his white bath robe, holding a worn manila folder.

Five years ago, Gabe saw this case as his opportunity to make Robbie proud. The defendant had all the parallels with his brother - a teenager, incarcerated young, where the punishment had presumed to be too harsh. He now knew it was rightfully just.

But at that time, he was blinded by passion and ambition. He wanted to prove to himself and to Sadie what he can do. Taking on this case that was practically unwinnable would give him more power, more control over the pro bono cases he wanted to take. Actually winning this though, that proved to be his fatal mistake.

Your cockiness got the better of you again, Ricci.

His mind went to Alex. That was the direction his every waking moment drifted to nowadays. Whether he liked it or not, he'd answer some other day.

He had to let her know. If he didn't, Alex would eventually find out herself. Once she discovers that he was the one who had set this man free, she would hate him.

Gabe can't bring himself to think of that happening, of losing that chance with her, or of losing Alex's trust.

Hell, I'm going to lose her entirely if she finds out.

These realizations devastated him.

But how can they both escape the looming shadows of the past unscathed? Even he couldn't figure that out.

Sighing, he rubbed his hand on his face, reeling at his lack of options. He then stood up, slamming the open folder on his desk as he turned to face the window, simmering in his own regrets. Papers slipped out to the carpeted floor, including a full-page mugshot of the defendant.

It was Maximilian Cornell.

Author's Notes: With Sadie being shady AF, I feel like we all need some dose of female friendship right? Also, this is my HC why Gabe constantly pulls away from MC, not only because of their working relationship. Did the reveal live up to the cliffhanger? Let me know in the comments! 👇👇👇

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily   @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses

@choicesficwriterscreations

Thank you for your continued reading!

Want to be added or removed to the tag list? No problem - just let me know 😊. Reblogs are also much appreciated! 💕

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist here 

AO3 link here

Author’s Note: And we’re at the penultimate chapter! Am rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!! Thank you for following this fic with me <3

He stays away from her over the next two weeks. He still picks Shino up from childcare - he’s never leaving his little girl again - but takes Osamu’s advice to duck into the kitchen the minute he hears the bell chime to mark her entrance into the shop. 

‘Is everything alright with Atsumu?’ he hears her ask Osamu after a week of radio silence from him. 

He imagines Osamu just shrugs, because his twin later gives him a look of askance that he ignores. 

‘Meet me on Sunday afternoon? Was hoping to have a quick chat and pass something over to you since my arm is out of its sling.Osamu agreed to take Shino for a couple of hours, so don’t worry about her’, he texts her. 

‘Fine’, she texts back. ‘Works for me’. 

‘Hey’, he greets her as she opens the door, fighting the impulse to scruff his shoes into the ground like a nervous schoolboy on his first date. 

‘Hey yourself’, she responds without heat, slipping on her shoes. ‘Shall we?’ 

He nods, turning on his heel and she follows suit, their footfalls matching in pace, though they angle their bodies to avoid each other’s gaze in the lift. They do not exchange a single word until they reach the car park, and he leads her past all the cars to a dim corner, lit by a single flickering electric bulb.  

‘Atsumu - what’s this?’ she says, staring uncomprehendingly at the motorbike parked in front of her, the exact replica of the bike she sold when she got pregnant with Shino, albeit updated with a shining coat of new paint and the latest modifications, top of the line. 

‘Surprise?’ he tells her, unable to hide a grin when she runs a hand reverently over the seat of the bike. 

‘I can’t accept this, ‘Tsumu. It’s too much’, she demurs but he knows she’s fallen in love when she’s unable to tear her eyes away from the bike.

‘Sure ya can! I registered it under yer name, and paid for the parking fees for the year, and look! It even comes with a helmet!’, he assures her, crossing his fingers behind his back. ‘Ya can ride it whenever ya have time to yerself - I’ll make sure I or ‘Samu will take Shino-chan for a couple hours every weekend so ya can go break some speed limits on the bike!’ 

‘This isn’t a bribe, right? Or some attempt to trick me into agreeing into something I don’t want to do?’ she asks him suspiciously. 

‘No - no tricks, I swear on my life. Look - I’ve signed the divorce papers, they’re in my bag. I just wanted to give ya the bike as a partin' gift’, he says, keeping his voice deliberately light. 

She stares at him, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but he holds her gaze until she turns away, satisfied. 

‘You never do anything by halves, do you ‘Tsumu? But thank you anyway’, she laughs breathily and his heart lurches to a start when he sees her slowly start to glow whilst fussing over the bike, exclaiming to herself as she admires the paint job and the extra compartments he’d gotten the mechanic to install. 

Watching her brings back memories of their adventures together before Shino came along. She’d pick him up for a ride to the outskirts of Osaka on their rare days off, in search for a spot to lay their picnic mat down and shoot the breeze. They’d never found that perfect picnic spot, but that just meant that there were more places to explore, more roads to traverse, more adventures for them to go on. That’d all stopped once Shino came along, and he wonders if they wouldn’t be in such a state if he’d put in more effort to carve out more time for them.   

And even before that - there was the time she’d surprised him by turning up in Kobe for one of his matches, sweeping him away from his confused teammates right after the match to celebrate over egg mayo sandwiches at 7-11. He suspects that was the day he’d fallen in love with her, half realising that she was probably the only person crazy enough to burn hours on the road on the back her rusty old bike right after an exam, just to stay up all night sitting cross-legged in a dim combini with mayo in her hair, listening to him ramble about his volleyball match. 

Wow. 'Samu's right. Even the reason he fell in love with her was fucking selfish. 

‘Hey ‘Tsumu’, he hears her say after a while and he looks up. ‘Wanna go for a ride?’ she asks brightly, twirling the keys around her finger. 

‘Huh?’ he responds, genuinely perplexed. 

‘A ride, you idiot. Don’t you want to find out how the bike feels on the road, especially since you’re the one who paid for it?’ 

‘Sure’, he says, a little lost - but then again she’s always found ways to keep him on his toes. ‘But there’s only one helmet’. 

‘I still have my old one upstairs. Give me a second so I can get it!’ she rushes off, a spring in her step he’s sorely missed seeing and despite the ache in his heart, he smiles. 

His smile vanishes the moment she kicks the bike full throttle and hurtles through weekend Osaka traffic at breakneck speed, making such sharp turns he almost falls off the bike if he weren’t already clutching her waist for dear life. ‘Oi! Look out!’ he yelps, as she weaves her way through narrow gaps between cars, seemingly deaf to the horns of outraged drivers behind her - and fuck he wants to puke but can’t because there’s no way that doesn’t end badly for him. 

‘Slow down, you fuckin' maniac’, he manages to shout when his stomach gives itself up for dead, but the wind swallows his words and she only whoops in response. The neon city lights blur into a mess of colours and he runs through his repertoire of curse words. He swears she’s evil - it’s not enough that she’s killed him once by divorcing him, her insane riding is going to make sure he’s doubly dead.

They burst onto the highway in a squeal of tires, the city skyline fading into a sea of lights, and they’re both so focused on the road ahead of them, well – she is, at least, he’s trying his level best to stay on his seat - that neither of them notice the dark clouds gathering above until the first splatter of raindrops on the road. 

The sky is threatening enough to make her swerve off the highway into a quiet neighbourhood, screeching to a halt at the nearest park with an empty shelter large enough to fit both of them. They jump off the bike, helmets dangling over their arm, and she catches hold of his hand as they splash their way through muddy puddles in a bid to escape the incoming storm. 

‘That was amazing!’ she laughs when they reach shelter, twirling on the tips of her feet, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, looking so happy and bright and alive -  like a bird spreading its wings to fly high in the sky, the way she used to be before their marriage broke her wings and shackled her to the ground. 

If only he hadn’t been blinded by the false allure of his dreams to appreciate what was right in front of him - a woman bold enough to whisk him away from the clutches of deranged fans on the back of a motorbike, fierce enough for Osamu to assign her to deal with his bullshit - and most of all, crazy enough to marry and have a child with him. And he knows she isn’t his, not anymore, but he's a greedy, selfish man, and he wants her one last time, so he throws his jacket over her shoulders as a pretext for drawing her close to him, slanting his mouth gently over hers. 

She stills for a second, and he’s about to pull away when she melts into him, tilting her chin up to grant him greater access to her lips. An unexpected heat coils in his stomach when she tangles her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, a thrill running down his spine as he loses himself in her familiar softness and warmth and groans.

She gasps, jerking away from him, tracing her bruised lips with her fingers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

‘Tsumu’, she begins to say, but he cuts her off, frantic with worry that he’s scared her off before he’s had the chance to say his piece. 

‘I’m sorry - I know I shouldn’t have but I just...can I just say what I meant to say to ya before this?’ he asks, banking on the fact that she hasn’t slapped him yet, and to his relief, she nods. 

‘I’ve thought about what ya said, and yer right -  I’ve taken so much from ya I don’t deserve to ask ya for anything else, not when I should be the one making it up to ya for the rest of my life,’ he says, his heart cracking beneath his ribs (so it’s true, a heart can actually break) – because he knows now she’s lost to him, has been the second he'd forsaken his vows and stormed out of her life, but he gulps a breath to calm his pulse, forcing himself to continue on. 

‘All I want is for ya to be happy and free - and if signing these papers is the price I have to pay, I’ll do it for ya’. Then he draws the brown envelope from his bag, holding it out to her with shaking hands. 

She makes no move to take it from him. 

‘Do you even love me, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks, her voice feather light, a wisp in the wind. ‘Be honest with me, you don’t have to lie’.

There’s a searing pain in his chest and he closes his eyes, losing himself to the undercurrent of regret pulsing in his mind. 

‘I do’, he manages to choke out, peeling aside the rotting layers of vanity and greed and selfishness and pride to flay his chest open to present his heart to her, in all its bleeding, broken glory. 

‘Yer everythin’ I could’ve ever asked for, and it’s killin’ me to watch you walk away - but I deserve it cos I’m a fuckin’ idiot for not realisin’ that sooner, and ya have no idea how fuckin’ sorry I am for hurting ya so badly and making you think that I don’t love ya - because I do, gods, I do, I love ya so goddamned much.’

‘Does our marriage mean that much to you?’ she stares at him, her eyes clouded with an emotion he can’t make out. 

‘Yes’, he says simply, his response both a confession and a prayer. He makes no move to touch her, fearful that any misstep might tip them both over the edge, the storm of emotions swirling within him already threatening to swallow him whole. 

‘Then ask me again, ‘Tsumu’ she whispers, her fists clenched, trembling by her side.    

He blinks at her, but his confusion morphs into elated disbelief when she takes the brown envelope from him and rips it cleanly in half. 

Oh. 

‘Ask me again, ‘Tsumu’, she repeats, the clouds in her eyes clearing into pools of light. He wonders if it mirrors the rush of warmth and love and most of all - hope, overflowing in his heart. 

‘Wanna try jumping off a cliff again?’ he asks, voice shaking, echoing the request he made of her years ago.

She steps forward into his waiting arms, her smile like golden sunlight spilling through grey rain.  

‘Only if you promise to jump with me’, she says softly against his chest. 

He catches her forgiveness desperately in his hands, and seals his promise with his lips. 

[fuckyeahtx]

Letters From An American

Today in Fuck Abbott and the GQP Harder Than Ever Before Welcome to Fucking Gilead Edition

September 1, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Last night at midnight, a new law went into effect in Texas. House Bill 1927 permits people to carry handguns without a permit, unless they have been convicted of a felony or domestic violence. This measure was not popular in the state. Fifty-nine percent of Texans—including law enforcement officers—opposed it. But 56% of Republicans supported it. “I don’t know what it’s a solution to,” James McLaughlin, executive director of the Texas Police Chiefs Association, said to Heidi Pérez-Moreno of the Texas Tribune when Republican governor Greg Abbott signed the bill in mid-August. “I don’t know what the problem was to start with.”

Texas Gun Rights executive director Chris McNutt had a different view. He said in a statement: “Texas is finally a pro-gun state despite years of foot-dragging, roadblocks, and excuses from the spineless political class.”

The bill had failed in 2019 after McNutt showed up at the home of the Texas House Speaker, Republican Dennis Bonnen, to demand its passage. Bonnen said McNutt’s “overzealous” visit exhibited “insanity.” "Threats and intimidation will never advance your issue. Their issue is dead," he told McNutt. McNutt told the Dallas Morning News: "If politicians like Speaker Dennis Bonnen think they can show up at the doorsteps of Second Amendment supporters and make promises to earn votes in the election season, they shouldn't be surprised when we show up in their neighborhoods to insist they simply keep their promises in the legislative session.”

That was not the only bill that went into effect at midnight last night in Texas. In May, Governor Abbott signed the strongest anti-abortion law in the country, Senate Bill 8, which went into effect on September 1. It bans abortion after 6 weeks—when many women don’t even know they’re pregnant—thus automatically stopping about 85% of abortions in Texas. There are no exceptions for rape or incest. Opponents of the bill had asked the Supreme Court to stop the law from taking effect. It declined to do so.

The law avoided the 1973 Supreme Court Roe v. Wade decision protecting the right to abortion before fetal viability at about 22 to 24 weeks by leaving the enforcement of the law not up to the state, but rather up to private citizens. This was deliberate. As Dahlia Lithwick and Mark Joseph Stern explained in an article in Slate: “Typically, when a state restricts abortion, providers file a lawsuit in federal court against the state officials responsible for enforcing the new law. Here, however, there are no such officials: The law is enforced by individual anti-abortion activists.” With this law, there’s no one to stop from enforcing it.

S.B. 8 puts ordinary people in charge of law enforcement. Anyone—at all—can sue any individual who “aids or abets,” or even intends to abet, an abortion in Texas after six weeks. Women seeking abortion themselves are exempt, but anyone who advises them (including a spouse), gives them a ride, provides counseling, staffs a clinic, and so on, can be sued by any random stranger. If the plaintiff wins, they pocket $10,000 plus court costs, and the clinic that provided the procedure is closed down. If the defendant doesn’t defend themselves, the court must find them guilty. And if the defendant wins, they get…nothing. Not even attorney’s fees.

So, nuisance lawsuits will ruin abortion providers, along with anyone accused of aiding and abetting—or intending to abet—an abortion. And the enforcers will be ordinary citizens.

Texas has also just passed new voting restrictions that allow partisan poll watchers to have “free movement” in polling places, enabling them to intimidate voters. Texas governor Greg Abbott is expected to sign that bill in the next few days.

Taken together with the vigilantism running wild in school board meetings and attacks on election officials, the Texas legislation is a top red flag in the red flag factory. The Republican Party is empowering vigilantes to enforce their beliefs against their neighbors.

The law, which should keep us all on a level playing field, has been abandoned by our Supreme Court. Last night, it refused to stop the new Texas abortion law from going into effect, and tonight, just before midnight, by a 5–4 vote, it issued an opinion refusing to block the law. Justice Sonia Sotomayor’s dissent read: “The court’s order is stunning. Presented with an application to enjoin a flagrantly unconstitutional law engineered to prohibit women from exercising their constitutional rights and evade judicial scrutiny, a majority of Justices have opted to bury their heads in the sand.”

Texas’s law flouts nearly 50 years of federal precedents, she points out, but the Supreme Court has looked the other way. ”The State’s gambit worked,” Sotomayor wrote. She continued: “This is untenable. It cannot be the case that a state can evade federal judicial scrutiny by outsourcing the enforcement of unconstitutional laws to its citizenry."

The Supreme Court has essentially blessed the efforts of Texas legislators to prevent the enforcement of federal law by using citizen vigilantes to get their way. The court decided the case on its increasingly active “shadow docket,” a series of cases decided without full briefings or oral argument, often in the dead of night, without signed opinions. In the past, such emergency decisions were rare and used to issue uncontroversial decisions or address irreparable immediate harm (like the death penalty). Since the beginning of the Trump administration, they have come to make up the majority of the court’s business.

Since 2017, the court has used the shadow docket to advance right-wing goals. It has handed down brief, unsigned decisions after a party asks for emergency relief from a lower court order, siding first with Trump, and now with state Republicans, at a high rate. As University of Texas law professor Stephen Vladeck noted: “In less than three years, [Trump’s] Solicitor General has filed at least twenty-one applications for stays in the Supreme Court (including ten during the October 2018 Term alone).” In comparison, “during the sixteen years of the George W. Bush and Obama Administrations, the Solicitor General filed a total of eight such applications—averaging one every other Term.”

So, operating without open arguments or opinions, the Supreme Court has shown that it will not enforce federal law, leaving state legislatures to do as they will. This, after all, was the whole point of the “originalism” that Republicans embraced under President Ronald Reagan. Originalists wanted to erase the legal justification of the post–World War II years that used the “due process” and “equal protection” clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment to apply the protections of the Bill of Rights to the states. It was that concept that protected civil rights for people of color and for women, by using the federal government to prohibit states from enforcing discriminatory laws.

Since the 1980s, Republicans have sought to hamstring federal power and return power to the states, which have neither the power nor the inclination to regulate businesses effectively, and which can discriminate against minorities and get away with it, so long as the federal government doesn’t enforce equal protection.

Today’s events make that a reality.

Worse, though, the mechanisms of the Texas law officially turn a discriminatory law over to state-level vigilantes to enforce. The wedge to establish this mechanism is abortion, but the door is now open for extremist state legislatures to turn to private citizens to enforce any law that takes away an individual’s legal right…like, say, the right to vote. And in Texas, now, a vigilante doesn't even have to have a permit to carry the gun that will back up his threats.

During Reconstruction, vigilantes also carried guns. They enforced state customs that reestablished white supremacy after the federal government had tried to defend equality before the law. It took only a decade for former Confederates who had tried to destroy the government to strip voting rights, and civil rights, from the southern Black men who had defended the United States government during the Civil War. For the next eighty years, the South was a one-party state where enforcement of the laws depended on your skin color, your gender, and whom you knew.

Opponents have compared those who backed the Texas anti-abortion law to the Taliban, the Islamic extremists in Afghanistan whose harsh interpretation of Islamic Sharia law strips women of virtually all rights. But the impulse behind the Texas law, the drive to replace the federal protection of civil rights with state vigilantes enforcing their will, is homegrown. It is a reflection of the position that Republicans would like women to have in our society, for sure, but it is also written in the laughing faces of Mississippi law enforcement officers Lawrence Rainey and Cecil Ray Price in 1967, certain even as they were arraigned for the 1964 murders of James Earl Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Henry Schwerner, that the system was so rigged in their favor that they would literally get away with murder.

When they were killed, Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner were trying to register Black people to vote.

[maple-syrup-goblin]

@tarly-the-bitch

(some of you might like the tags up here, sorry

suicide, gore, depression, murder, ect)

Imagine:

You just broke up with your s/o, your heart is in shambles. Just to wake up, you need to lift the weights of your sorrows, regrets, and the deep gap within your soul.

It's a normal, terrible day. The sky is gray, it's been that way ever since they left you. Despite your unwillingness, the drive for food forces your body through your house, out of the door, and to your bike.

You mindlessly ride to a store. Any store will do. As you look to the sky and realize it's getting dark, and you are slpashed with shock when you notice that you've arrived in the next city over.

You push on as the pit in your stomach grows as deep as the pit in your heart. Your eyes fly to a bright sign of a small grocery store on the outskirts of the city. You place your bike on the outside of the shop and enter warily.

You grab whatever your hand seems to be attracted to. You end up grabbing a load of junk with dull, meaningless lables. As you near the counter you peer down to a worried face.

"Um, sir? You don't look too well." her wide eyes stare at you as she says faintly.

"I just biked from the small town over, I'm just tired." you reply, dead as ever.

"Really? That's a long way. If you need a place to stay, I could let you rest at my home." she suggests.

"Ah, thank you very much." you muster a weak sign of gratitude.

"My shift ends soon so, you shouldn't have to wait long!" she states excitedly.

You finish paying and wait on the bench outside. Filling your stomach with some of the garbage you bought, your head becomes a little less foggy. As you wait, the sun sets and your grow cold. Just as you huddle, the girl bursts out like a little bundle of energy.

"Whew! I can't wait to get home!" she exclaims with a wide smile. Just then, in that moment, you see her with clear vision. Her cute sweater, short hair, and smooth skin. Just that sight brings you more joy than you've felt in the past month. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"My car is this way," she states, "but we'll have to leave your bike here for the night. My car is too tiny to fit your bike."

"Oh! That's alright. I'll get it tomorrow." you reply.

As you walk toward her car, she glances at you and questions, "So, what's your name?"

"Oh, I'm y/n. What's yours?" you ask.

"You didn't catch it on my name tag?" she quips with a smirk. Although you feel like that was ment to poke fun at you, a you can feel is joy. "It's Ambrosia, you can call me Am though." she explaines.

You ride in her car for a short while before arriving at a cute house, completely dark from inside to out. The tiny home is beautiful even if you can't see it well in the starlight. As you walk in the door, she turns on the lights to reveal a neat and comfy place of living.

"Sorry, it's a little small. But now that we're here, would you like something to eat?" she asks kindly. Although you ate before you got here, you haven't had any good food for months and you crave to know what her cooking tastes like.

"I'd love something to eat, what do you have?" you speak joyfully.

"Oh it's not that simple! I'll make us a surprise!" she plays. Her positive attitude leaves you trembling with happiness. As she starts to cook, she demands that you stay out of the kitchen so that it remains a surprise.

You look around her home and see few family photos and many little decorative trinkets. The smell from the kitchen lures you to it as she announces that she's done.

"Allright, let's get to eating!" she announces. "Also, I don't have to work tomorrow so... would you like something to drink?"

It's been a while since you've had a meal this luxurious with a nice drink to go with it. "I'd love to." you respond as she pulls out a full bottle of whiskey.

"I don't do this too often so let's celebrate!" she says as she hold the bottle to the sky. The two of you begin to eat and enjoy your time together. Looking into her eyes feels like standing in a cool summer's breeze. You can imagine the sensation of your hand on her cheek.

You continue to eat and drink as your ability to hold back your feelings becomes frail. The slightest drop of romance could melt you and, she takes notice.

"You know, I'm the only one here. You don't have to hide anything." she states drunkenly. You feel as if your soul has become whole again. You no longer feel pain or sorrow. All you can think about is her adorable lips.

The two of you head toward the living room when suddenly, she stumbles. Falling into you arms, she looks up into your eyes. "You just might have to carry me!" she laughs.

You comply, and pick her up. You feel her squishy thighs in your arms and your hand grabs her chest. Holding her in your arms has put things into perspective. Although she's a tad short, her beauty is unmatched in your heart.

You carry her to her bedroom and set her down. Once she regains her balance, she uses all the force in her body to fling off her clothes. Your drunken mind follows suit and you remove what's keeping her from your body.

The mutual excitement brews a love so stong that it lats for hours. She's lucky she doesn't have to work in the morning.

You grasp her arms and lay her to the bed as you pummel her as hard as you can. Her poor little bead makes cries of help as you recklessly destroy her insides. The absolute bliss you feel is more fulfilling than anything you've ever felt.

She gasps as you continue, she looks beet red with pleasure. You begin to slow so this can last a while longer. You use your hands to toy with ever part of her imaginable. Her squishy breasts, tender thighs, and soft cheeks all run past your grasp.

"Please, please, harder!" she demands, "play with me, play with me! I'll be your toy to make you happy!" she cries with tears of bliss. You continue, harder than you have ever before. You grasp her boobs and fondle them with force.

She lets out one last moan of pleasure and holds you tight. "Thank you." she wispers. Your tiredness catches up to you and you fall asleep with your bodies intertwined.

You've slept better than you ever have before. You wake up to the sight of her soft lips and are instantly filled with the pleasure you felt before. Her small body seems so fragile in your grasp. She's so tender, and vulnerable.

Although you were filled with joy, your heart snaps back to how it was tbe morning prior. You stare at her, blankly. As she awakes, her eyes flutter open and her lips form a smile.

"I love you y/n" she barely musters. As she states this, you realize that she was able to fill you with joy she can do it again. You kiss her passionately and feel between her legs.

Her eyes fill with shock at your sudden movements but she can't say no, you've filled her mouth with her tongue. Her fragile body under your control fills you with the feeling of power. A power you've only felt the day before.

You start to rough her up. Using unnecessary amounts of force. She starts to cry but she wanted to be your toy right? Did she lie to you? Just like you s/o did back then. You can't stand liars. You can't stand her.

You trow her to the ground in a fit of rage, as her cries grow. Noting she says matters now, she'll just leave you like your s/o did. She's just like her, a liar and garbage. You top her and bite her throat with the strength of a lion. You claw at her soft skin and tear her insides up with the most massive rage boner any man could hope to amass.

She can't speak anymore, all you hear is muffled screaming and gurgles. You imagine doing this to your s/o and get up. A job like this requires special tools.

You retrieve a knife from the kitchen, her eyes contort into a deep fear. As you plunge the knife between her breasts. You slice her down to her belly and continue with your hands. You reach inside her and pull everything out. All the love, all the joy, you believe it is yours now.

Her eyes fade and her tears stop flowing. You continue to use her as a toy and fill her with your semen. Since there's no chance of a child, you fill her vagina with your semen in the most satisfying way you could have ever conceived.

You keep her face looking pretty, but with her throat destroyed you decide to ruin it a little more. You flip yourself and shove your dick into her throat however, it quickly reaches where you've crushed it. You press on and slip your cock deeper and experience the tightest grip you'll ever feel.

You assault her lower lips with your raging tongue to get a taste of your prey, your toy, you little meatbag of happiness. Rubbing her ass, you finnish in her adorable little mouth. And find yourself calming.

You cleave her head off to keep it as a physical memory of the last time you'll ever feel joy. You cry as you realize you've ruined your toy. What are you saying? Your toy? You realize that you've become a monster.

She's much more deserving of a life than you ever were. And you took that. You walk out of the house with your hand on her scalp. Or what's left of her you monster. You steal her keys and drive home. You monster.

Every time you look at what's left of her. All you can think is, "you monster" and you are. You are a monster, a horrible human being. If that. Your tears flood your vision. You know you'll never be happy again. You are worthless. But you feel what's left of Am isn't.

You arrive home and place her head on your table. Her lifeless eyes stare at you. You pleasure yourself one last time before ending your life just as you ended hers.

You grab a knife from your kitchen. You place the tip to your chest. You take a deep breath and plunge the blade into your heart. Letting your rage guide your hand. "You monster, you are worth nothing" you repeat in your head, "How can anyone love me now? Why would anyone care? S/o doesn't, Am doesn't, your family doesn't."

When you're done, you look just like her. A pile of blood and meat on the floor. The physical pain amounts to nothing compared to the disappointment you feel in yourself.

You feel warm, your sight glows red even with your eyes closed. Where have you found yourself?

[puckrph]

‘ JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR ‘ STARTERS

taken from the andrew lloyd webber & tim rice musical. i changed some pronouns; feel free to change others as you see fit. most songs are under the cut!

HEAVEN ON THEIR MINDS

‘ my mind is clearer now. ’ ‘ at last, all too well i can see where we all soon will be. ’ ‘ if you strip away the myth from the man, you will see where we all soon will be. ’ ‘ you’ve started to believe the things they say of you. ’ ‘ you really do believe this talk of god is true? ’ ‘ all the good you’ve done will soon get swept away. ’ ‘ you’ve begun to matter more than the things you say. ’ ‘ listen, i don’t like what i see. ’ ‘ all i ask is that you listen to me! ’ ‘ remember, i’ve been your right hand man all along. ’ ‘ you have set them all on fire; they think they’ve found the new messiah, and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong. ’ ‘ they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong. ’ ‘ i remember when this whole thing began. ’ ‘ believe me, my admiration for you hasn’t died. ’ ‘ every word you say gets twisted ‘round some other way, and they’ll hurt you if they think you’ve lied. ’ ‘ you should have stayed a great unknown. ’ ‘ you should have stayed a great unknown. like your father, carving wood: you’d have made good. tables, chairs, and oaken chests would have suited [name] best. ’ ‘ he’d have caused nobody harm. ’ ‘ do you care? don’t you see we must keep in our place? ’ ‘ don’t you see we must keep in our place? we are occupied! have you forgotten how put down we are? ’ ‘ i am frightened by the crowd, for we are getting much too loud, and they’ll crush us if we go too far. ’ ‘ please remember that i want us to live, but it’s sad to see our chances weakening with every hour. ’ ‘ all your followers are blind, too much heaven on their minds! ’ ‘ it was beautiful, but now it’s sour. it’s all gone sour. ’ ‘ he won’t listen to me. ’

WHAT’S THE BUZZ / STRANGE THING MYSTIFYING

‘ what’s the buzz? ’ ‘ why should you want to know? ’ ‘ don’t you mind about the future. don’t you try to think ahead. save tomorrow for tomorrow, think about today instead. ’ ‘ why are you obsessed with fighting times and fates you can’t defy? ’ ‘ if you knew the path we’re riding, you’d understand it less than i. ’ ‘ let me try to cool down your face a bit. ’ ‘ that feels nice. ’ ‘ you alone have tried to give me what i need right here and now. ’ ‘ it seems to me a strange thing, mystifying. ’ ‘ i can understand that she amuses, but to let her stroke you? kiss your hair? ’ ‘ it’s not that i object to her profession. ’ ‘ it doesn’t help us if you’re inconsistent. they only need a small excuse to put us all away. ’ ‘ who are you to criticize me? ’ ‘ if your slate is clean, then you can throw stones. ’ ‘ i’m amazed that men like you can be so shallow, thick, and slow. ’

EVERYTHING’S ALRIGHT

‘ try not to get worried. try not to turn on to problems that upset you. ’ ‘ don’t you know everything’s alright? everything’s fine. ’ ‘ i want you to sleep well tonight. ’ ‘ let the world turn without you tonight. ’ ‘ sleep, and i shall soothe you, calm you and anoint you. ’ ‘ relax, think of nothing tonight. ’ ‘ that could have been saved for the poor. ’ ‘ people who are hungry, people who are starving matter more. ’ ‘ you’ll be lost, you’ll be so sorry when i’m gone. ’

THIS JESUS MUST DIE

‘ the council waits for you. ’ ‘ you know why we are here. we’ve not much time and quite a problem. ’ ‘ he is dangerous. ’ ‘ tell us that you’re who we say you are. ’ ‘ they’re right outside our yard. ’ ‘ we dare not leave him to his own devices. ’ ‘ how can we stop him? ’ ‘ i see bad things arising. ’ ‘ i see blood and destruction, our elimination because of one man. ’ ‘ you have no perception! ’ ‘ the stakes we are gambling are frighteningly high. ’

HOSANNA

‘ won’t you smile at me? ’ ‘ tell the rabble to be quiet; we anticipate a riot. ’ ‘ this common crowd is much too loud. ’ ‘ they are fools, and they are wrong. ’ ‘ nothing can be done to stop the shouting. ’ ‘ if every tongue was still, the noise would still continue. the rocks and stones themselves would start to sing. ’

SIMON ZEALOTES / POOR JERUSALEM

‘ you know i love you. ’ ‘ i believe in you, and god. ’ ‘ what more do you need to convince you? ’ ‘ i am with you. ’ ‘ i am on your side. ’ ‘ there must be over fifty thousand screaming love and more for you. ’ ‘ you’ll get the power and the glory for ever and ever and ever. ’ ‘ if you knew all that i knew, you’d see the truth, but you close your eyes. ’ ‘ to conquer death, you only have to die. ’

PILATE’S DREAM

‘ he had that look you very rarely find; the haunted, hunted kind. ’ ‘ he never said a word. ’ ‘ next the room was full of wild and angry men. ’ ‘ they fell on him and then they disappeared again. ’ ‘ i heard them mentioning my name, and leaving me the blame. ’

THE TEMPLE

‘ roll on up, for my price is down. ’ ‘ come on in for the best in town. ’ ‘ you, at least, are still alive. ’ ‘ name your pleasure, i will sell. ’ ‘ i can fix your wildest needs: i got heaven, and i got hell. ’ ‘ my time is almost through. ’ ‘ i’ve tried for three years. seems like thirty. ’ ‘ i believe you can make me whole. ’ ‘ will you mend me? ’ ‘ there’s too little of me. ’

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE HIM

‘ i don’t know how to love you. ’ ‘ i don’t know how to love you. what to do, how to move you. ’ ‘ i’ve been changed. ’ ‘ in these past few days, when i’ve seen myself, i seem like someone else. ’ ‘ i don’t know how to take this. i don’t know why you move me. ’ ‘ you’re a man. you’re just a man, and i’ve had so many men before. in very many ways, you’re just one more. ’ ‘ should i bring you down, should i scream and shout? should i speak of love, let my feelings out? ’ ‘ i never thought i’d come to this. ’ ‘ don’t you think it’s rather funny i should be in this position? i’m the one who’s always been so calm, so cool. no lover’s fool. ’ ‘ you scare me so. ’ ‘ if you said you loved me, i’d be lost; i’d be frightened. i couldn’t cope. i’d turn my head, i’d back away. i wouldn’t want to know. you scare me so. i want you so. i love you so. ’ ‘ i love you so. ’

DAMNED FOR ALL TIME / BLOOD MONEY

‘ if i help you, it matters that you see these sordid kinds of things are coming hard to me. ’ ‘ it’s taken me some time to work out what to do. ’ ‘ i really didn’t come here of my own accord. ’ ‘ just don’t say i’m damned for all time. ’ ‘ why are we the prophets? why are we the ones who see the sad solution, know what must be done? ’ ‘ cut the protesting, forget the excuses. ’ ‘ we want information; get up off the floor. ’ ‘ i don’t want your blood money! ’ ‘ think of the things you can do with that money: choose any charity, give to the poor. ’ ‘ this isn’t blood money. it’s a fee, nothing more. ’ ‘ well done, [name]. ’

THE LAST SUPPER

‘ look at all my trials and tribulations, sinking in a gentle pool of wine. ’ ‘ till “this evening” is “this morning,” life is fine. ’ ‘ the end is just a little harder when brought about by friends. ’ ‘ my name will mean nothing ten minutes after i’m dead! ’ ‘ cut the dramatics! ’ ‘ why don’t you go do it? ’ ‘ you want me to do it? ’ ‘ to think i admired you! now, i despise you. ’ ‘ you liar! you judas! ’ ‘ what if i just stayed here and ruined your ambition? christ, you deserve it! ’ ‘ hurry, you fool, hurry and go. save me your speeches, i don’t wanna know. go! ’ ‘ see where you’ve brought us to: our ideals die around us, all because of you. ’ ‘ get out! they’re waiting for you! ’ ‘ every time i look at you, i don’t understand why you let the things you did get so out of hand. you’d have managed better if you’d had it planned- ’ ‘ will no-one stay awake with me? ’

GETHSEMANE

‘ i only want to say - if there is a way - ’ ‘ i have changed. i’m not as sure as when we started. ’ ‘ then, i was inspired. now, i’m sad and tired. ’ ‘ surely i’ve exceeded expectations? ’ ‘ could you ask as much from any other man? ’ ‘ why should i die? would i be more noticed than i ever was before? would the things i’ve said and done matter any more? ’ ‘ if i die, what will be my reward? ’ ‘ can you show me now that i would not be killed in vain? ’ ‘ show me there’s a reason for your wanting me to die. you’re far too keen on “where” and “how,” and not so hot on “why.” ’ ‘ why, then, am i scared to finish what i started? what you started! i didn’t start it! ’ ‘ your will is hard, but you hold every card. ’ ‘ break me, bleed me, beat me, kill me, take me now. before i change my mind. ’

THE ARREST

‘ they’re all asleep, the fools. ’ ‘ put away your sword. don’t you know that it’s all over? ’ ‘ why are you obsessed with fighting? ’ ‘ that’s what you say that i am. ’ ‘ what more evidence do we need? ’ ‘ stay a while, and you’ll see him bleed. ’

PETER’S DENIAL

‘ i recognize your face. ’ ‘ i tell you, i was never, ever with him. ’ ‘ i don’t know him! ’ ‘ you’ve gone and cut him dead. ’ ‘ i had to do it, don’t you see? or else they’d go for me. ’

PILATE AND CHRIST

‘ who is this broken man cluttering up my hallway? who is this unfortunate? ’ ‘ you are so small, not a king at all. ’ ‘ you’re deep in trouble, friend. ’ ‘ how can someone in your state be so cool about your fate? ’ ‘ you had everything. where is it now? ’

KING HEROD’S SONG (TRY IT AND SEE)

‘ i am overjoyed to meet you face to face. you’ve been getting quite a name all around the place. ’ ‘ you are all we talk about, the wonder of the year! ’ ‘ oh, what a pity if it’s all a lie. ’ ‘ i’m dying to be shown that you are not just any man. ’ ‘ aren’t you scared of me? ’ ‘ you are nothing but a fraud! ’ ‘ get out of my life! ’

JUDAS’ DEATH

‘ my god! i saw him - he looked three-quarters dead! and he was so bad, i had to turn my head. ’ ‘ i know who everybody’s gonna blame. ’ ‘ i’d save him all this suffering if i could. ’ ‘ i’d save you all this suffering if i could. ’ ‘ i don’t understand why you’re filled with remorse. ’ ‘ all that you’ve said has come true with a vengeance. ’ ‘ you’ll be remembered forever for this. ’ ‘ pretty good wages for one little kiss. ’ ‘ i only did what you wanted me to. ’ ‘ i’d sell out the nation! ’ ‘ i’d sell out the nation! for i have been saddled with the murder of you. ’ ‘ i have been spattered with innocent. i shall be dragged through the slime and the mud. ’ ‘ when you’re cold and dead, will you let me be? do you love me too? do you care for me? ’ ‘ my mind is in darkness now. ’ ‘ i am sick! i’ve been used! ’ ‘ you knew all the time! ’ ‘ i’ll never ever know why you chose me for your crime. ’ ‘ you have murdered me! ’

TRIAL BEFORE PILATE

‘ we have no law to put a man to death. ’ ‘ do you have the first idea why you deserve it? ’ ‘ i’m through, through, through. ’ ‘ there may be a kingdom for me somewhere - if i only knew. ’ ‘ i look for truth, and find that i get damned. ’ ‘ but what is truth? is truth unchanging law? we both have truths - are mine the same as yours? ’ ‘ he’s done no wrong - no, not the slightest thing! ’ ‘ why do you not speak when i have your life in my hands? how can you stay quiet? ’ ‘ everything is fixed, and you can’t change it. ’ ‘ you have a duty to keep the peace. ’ ‘ don’t let me stop your great self destruction! ’ ‘ die if you want to, you misguided martyr. ’ ‘ i wash my hands of your demolition. ’

SUPERSTAR

‘ don’t you get me wrong. i only want to know. ’ ‘ who are you? ’ ‘ what have you sacrificed? ’ ‘ do you think you’re what they say you are? ’ ‘ did you mean to die like that? ’ ‘ was that a mistake? ’

THE CRUCIFIXION

‘ they don’t know what they’re doing. ’ ‘ who is my mother? where is my mother? ’ ‘ i’m thirsty. i’m thirsty. ’ ‘ it is finished. ’

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 1, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Last night at midnight, a new law went into effect in Texas. House Bill 1927 permits people to carry handguns without a permit, unless they have been convicted of a felony or domestic violence. This measure was not popular in the state. Fifty-nine percent of Texans—including law enforcement officers—opposed it. But 56% of Republicans supported it. “I don’t know what it’s a solution to,” James McLaughlin, executive director of the Texas Police Chiefs Association, said to Heidi Pérez-Moreno of the Texas Tribune when Republican governor Greg Abbott signed the bill in mid-August. “I don’t know what the problem was to start with.”

Texas Gun Rights executive director Chris McNutt had a different view. He said in a statement: “Texas is finally a pro-gun state despite years of foot-dragging, roadblocks, and excuses from the spineless political class.”

The bill had failed in 2019 after McNutt showed up at the home of the Texas House Speaker, Republican Dennis Bonnen, to demand its passage. Bonnen said McNutt’s “overzealous” visit exhibited “insanity.” "Threats and intimidation will never advance your issue. Their issue is dead," he told McNutt. McNutt told the Dallas Morning News: "If politicians like Speaker Dennis Bonnen think they can show up at the doorsteps of Second Amendment supporters and make promises to earn votes in the election season, they shouldn't be surprised when we show up in their neighborhoods to insist they simply keep their promises in the legislative session.”

That was not the only bill that went into effect at midnight last night in Texas. In May, Governor Abbott signed the strongest anti-abortion law in the country, Senate Bill 8, which went into effect on September 1. It bans abortion after 6 weeks—when many women don’t even know they’re pregnant—thus automatically stopping about 85% of abortions in Texas. There are no exceptions for rape or incest. Opponents of the bill had asked the Supreme Court to stop the law from taking effect. It declined to do so.

The law avoided the 1973 Supreme Court Roe v. Wade decision protecting the right to abortion before fetal viability at about 22 to 24 weeks by leaving the enforcement of the law not up to the state, but rather up to private citizens. This was deliberate. As Dahlia Lithwick and Mark Joseph Stern explained in an article in Slate: “Typically, when a state restricts abortion, providers file a lawsuit in federal court against the state officials responsible for enforcing the new law. Here, however, there are no such officials: The law is enforced by individual anti-abortion activists.” With this law, there’s no one to stop from enforcing it.  

S.B. 8 puts ordinary people in charge of law enforcement. Anyone—at all—can sue any individual who “aids or abets,” or even intends to abet, an abortion in Texas after six weeks. Women seeking abortion themselves are exempt, but anyone who advises them (including a spouse), gives them a ride, provides counseling, staffs a clinic, and so on, can be sued by any random stranger. If the plaintiff wins, they pocket $10,000 plus court costs, and the clinic that provided the procedure is closed down. If the defendant doesn’t defend themselves, the court must find them guilty. And if the defendant wins, they get…nothing. Not even attorney’s fees.

So, nuisance lawsuits will ruin abortion providers, along with anyone accused of aiding and abetting—or intending to abet—an abortion. And the enforcers will be ordinary citizens.

Texas has also just passed new voting restrictions that allow partisan poll watchers to have “free movement” in polling places, enabling them to intimidate voters. Texas governor Greg Abbott is expected to sign that bill in the next few days.

Taken together with the vigilantism running wild in school board meetings and attacks on election officials, the Texas legislation is a top red flag in the red flag factory. The Republican Party is empowering vigilantes to enforce their beliefs against their neighbors.

The law, which should keep us all on a level playing field, has been abandoned by our Supreme Court. Last night, it refused to stop the new Texas abortion law from going into effect, and tonight, just before midnight, by a 5–4 vote, it issued an opinion refusing to block the law. Justice Sonia Sotomayor’s dissent read: “The court’s order is stunning. Presented with an application to enjoin a flagrantly unconstitutional law engineered to prohibit women from exercising their constitutional rights and evade judicial scrutiny, a majority of Justices have opted to bury their heads in the sand.”

Texas’s law flouts nearly 50 years of federal precedents, she points out, but the Supreme Court has looked the other way. ”The State’s gambit worked,” Sotomayor wrote. She continued:  “This is untenable. It cannot be the case that a state can evade federal judicial scrutiny by outsourcing the enforcement of unconstitutional laws to its citizenry."

The Supreme Court has essentially blessed the efforts of Texas legislators to prevent the enforcement of federal law by using citizen vigilantes to get their way. The court decided the case on its increasingly active “shadow docket,” a series of cases decided without full briefings or oral argument, often in the dead of night, without signed opinions. In the past, such emergency decisions were rare and used to issue uncontroversial decisions or address irreparable immediate harm (like the death penalty). Since the beginning of the Trump administration, they have come to make up the majority of the court’s business.

Since 2017, the court has used the shadow docket to advance right-wing goals. It has handed down brief, unsigned decisions after a party asks for emergency relief from a lower court order, siding first with Trump, and now with state Republicans, at a high rate. As University of Texas law professor Stephen Vladeck noted: “In less than three years, [Trump’s] Solicitor General has filed at least twenty-one applications for stays in the Supreme Court (including ten during the October 2018 Term alone).” In comparison, “during the sixteen years of the George W. Bush and Obama Administrations, the Solicitor General filed a total of eight such applications—averaging one every other Term.”

So, operating without open arguments or opinions, the Supreme Court has shown that it will not enforce federal law, leaving state legislatures to do as they will. This, after all, was the whole point of the “originalism” that Republicans embraced under President Ronald Reagan. Originalists wanted to erase the legal justification of the post–World War II years that used the “due process” and “equal protection” clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment to apply the protections of the Bill of Rights to the states. It was that concept that protected civil rights for people of color and for women, by using the federal government to prohibit states from enforcing discriminatory laws.

Since the 1980s, Republicans have sought to hamstring federal power and return power to the states, which have neither the power nor the inclination to regulate businesses effectively, and which can discriminate against minorities and get away with it, so long as the federal government doesn’t enforce equal protection.

Today’s events make that a reality.

Worse, though, the mechanisms of the Texas law officially turn a discriminatory law over to state-level vigilantes to enforce. The wedge to establish this mechanism is abortion, but the door is now open for extremist state legislatures to turn to private citizens to enforce any law that takes away an individual’s legal right…like, say, the right to vote. And in Texas, now, a vigilante doesn't even have to have a permit to carry the gun that will back up his threats.

During Reconstruction, vigilantes also carried guns. They enforced state customs that reestablished white supremacy after the federal government had tried to defend equality before the law. It took only a decade for former Confederates who had tried to destroy the government to strip voting rights, and civil rights, from the southern Black men who had defended the United States government during the Civil War. For the next eighty years, the South was a one-party state where enforcement of the laws depended on your skin color, your gender, and whom you knew.

Opponents have compared those who backed the Texas anti-abortion law to the Taliban, the Islamic extremists in Afghanistan whose harsh interpretation of Islamic Sharia law strips women of virtually all rights. But the impulse behind the Texas law, the drive to replace the federal protection of civil rights with state vigilantes enforcing their will, is homegrown. It is a reflection of the position that Republicans would like women to have in our society, for sure, but it is also written in the laughing faces of Mississippi law enforcement officers Lawrence Rainey and Cecil Ray Price in 1967, certain even as they were arraigned for the 1964 murders of James Earl Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Henry Schwerner, that the system was so rigged in their favor that they would literally get away with murder.

When they were killed, Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner were trying to register Black people to vote.

—-

Notes:

https://thehill.com/homenews/state-watch/437665-texas-gop-leaders-drop-constitutional-carry-bill-after-gun-rights

https://www.texastribune.org/2021/08/16/texas-permitless-carry-gun-law/

https://www.npr.org/2021/08/31/1033068542/texas-voting-restrictions-bill-abbott-republicans

https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2021/08/texas-abortion-supreme-court-roe-wade.html

Mark Joseph Stern @mjs_DCBREAKING: By a 5–4 vote, with Roberts joining the liberals, the Supreme Court REFUSES to block Texas' six-week abortion ban. Opinions here:

s3.amazonaws.com/s3.documentclo…

3,936 Retweets5,180 Likes

September 2nd 2021

https://www.vox.com/2020/8/1/21350679/supreme-court-border-wall-trump-sierra-club-stay-stephen-breyer

https://www.vox.com/2020/8/11/21356913/supreme-court-shadow-docket-jail-asylum-covid-immigrants-sonia-sotomayor-barnes-ahlman

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[mazurah]

Fear and Loneliness in Seyda Neen

Seyda Neen reminded Ma’zurah a little bit of home. The tall trees, the smell of water and vegetation, the guar--gods, Ma’zurah had not seen guar since she left Elsweyr--it all conspired to be both painful and comforting.

Her first few steps of freedom after completing the paperwork they made her sign for her release revealed that there was not actually all that much to the town. She could easily see from one end to the other. There were the docks, bordered by the Census and Excise office and a few small warehouses, with a handful of other houses and buildings beyond that. They looked new. Beyond the docks and warehouses on the shore, nestled into the edge of town stood a cluster of older wooden shacks that looked out of place next to the stone and thatch of the new Imperial buildings, like a fishing village that had gotten lost.

Scanning the surrounding area, Ma'zurah saw trees and swamp in one direction, and the sea in the other. She spotted a lighthouse perched at the end of a small peninsula past the last wooden shack; not exactly part of town, but not far enough away to be isolated either. Across a stretch of water, down the uneven coast, Ma'zurah thought she could see something floating like a small moon on the horizon, with buildings standing beneath, but they were much too far to make out any detail.

A cursory search for someplace resembling a shop or an inn revealed the tradehouse, located halfway between the new and old parts of town. Her attempts at conversation resulted in an informative exchange with a Redguard scout who was happy to give her an overview of the local geography.

It was approaching evening by the time Ma'zurah reluctantly turned her mind to what to do next. The tradehouse had no rooms available, and she had her orders: go to Balmora, deliver a package, and receive her next set of instructions. She had been given enough money to afford a fare on the strange, tall insect whose echoing call reverberated like something that should by all rights have been underwater. The ride was exciting, like riding a walking tree while the sun set in fabulous shades of pink and red around her. It was long past dark by the time the insect brought her to her destination.

Balmora did not remind Ma’zurah of home, and she was not sure if she should be disappointed or relieved that not all of this new strange land plucked at her emotions the same way the swamp did. Though the hour was late, there were still people about, mostly Dark Elves who gave her sidelong looks that she did not know how to interpret. She moved past them quickly, too aware of how visible her white fur was in the dark.

Finding Caius Cosades proved more difficult than she had anticipated, and sent her through parts of town she would otherwise have avoided, especially at night. She found him in what had to be the smallest house in the dirtiest alleyway in Balmora. He opened the door bleary-eyed and shirtless, and Ma’zurah immediately smelled moon sugar. It would have been a welcome scent if she had been in Elsweyr, if he had not been Imperial. Instead, it irked her. She had seen what happened to non-Khajiit who used the stuff in the Imperial City, and she did not like it. There was a good reason it was sacred to the Khajiit but denied to all else.

Tight-lipped, she proffered the package. Cosades read the label. His gaze sharpened and he waved her inside, all hint of the effects of the sugar gone from his stance as soon as the door was shut. He bolted it behind him, and Ma'zurah's heart sped up. Her fingers felt the familiar, comforting gestures of an invisibility spell, but she did not put any magicka into it. This man was supposed to be her "superior and patron" in Morrowind? The tip of her tail twitched in nervousness as Cosades read in silence.

Her waiting was rewarded with something that might have resembled an explanation if it had not been so absurd. The Emperor wanted her to become a Blade.

She dismissed the "Emperor" part immediately. She could safely assume he did not mean the literal Emperor. That was how these official types liked to talk; any action taken on behalf of the Empire was always the work of the Emperor. She knew about the Blades of course; they were supposed to be the Emperor's spies and personal guard. She was not exactly sure how she was expected to go directly from imprisonment to becoming a Blade entrusted with state secrets and the Emperor's life, but it seemed suspect at best.

"There must be some mistake," she told him.

He gave her a piercing stare, looked pointedly at the document he was holding, and asked, "You are Ma'zurah, correct? No surname, formerly of the state of Pellitine?"

Ma'zurah nodded mutely.

"No mistake. You are to become a Novice in the Blades, and that means you'll be following my orders. Are you prepared to follow my orders, Ma'zurah?"

Her fingers itched for the invisibility spell, but he was standing between her and the door, which was locked. "What happens if Ma'zurah says no?" she asked weakly.

"Then I will have to put you back on a boat for the mainland and return you to prison." His tone was dismissive, but Ma'zurah could tell he was watching her closely.

There was a long pause as Ma'zurah digested this information.

"Indefinitely," he added as the silence stretched.

The fur on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt a flash of anger for a brief moment before her anxiety subsumed it. She could not afford to lash out. She had to consider her options rationally.

She could probably get past him if she really tried, but if he really was a high ranking member of the Blades, and she could not see any way that he was not, then he would probably just put out a warrant for her arrest. In a strange province with no friends, or clan, or even allies, no real knowledge of the land, and with her distinctive appearance, it was doubtful she would be able to hide for long.

No friends or clan; she had not realized how vulnerable that made her. She was all alone. Her anxiety curdled suddenly into an icy spike of true fear. This had to be illegal, right? This was coercion. But there was no authority she could appeal to that would be willing to stand up to the Blades. Would anyone even believe her?

No running then. Maybe it would not be so bad. It was not her ideal job, and she had no loyalty to the Empire, but maybe she could get something out of it--some money and a place to sleep at the very least--even if the whole thing still rubbed her fur the wrong way.

"May Ma'zurah ask why she has been chosen for this honor?" she finally asked, her tone careful.

The man raised one brow at her. "No, Ma'zurah may not. Now will you take the oath, or am I going to have to send you back to Cyrodiil?"

Ma'zurah took the oath.

The next few days were a whirl of instructions and introductions. She did indeed get some money, and was told to get her bearings in Balmora, and get some equipment and training. To that end, Cosades sent her to three Blades agents in Balmora who would be able to provide the necessary training--for a fee, of course--and assistance in an emergency. When she had returned from introducing herself to them, three small gifts and much advice richer, Cosades gave her the names and locations of four more around Vvardenfell she should introduce herself to at some point. He suggested she start with the Redguard scout in Seyda Neen. Elone would be able to help her get the lay of the land, he said. Ma'zurah did not know how to feel when she realized she had probably met the woman already.

Finally, Cosades told her to establish a cover identity, and instructed her to check in with him next month to discuss its progress. "I don't care what it is, so long as it doesn't point back to us," he told her. "Go back to prostitution for all I care. The point is to establish a history for yourself here."

Ma'zurah scowled and went to sign up with the local Mages Guild instead. When she asked for work, she received an assignment from a distracted, but friendly Suthay alchemist to gather mushrooms from the swamp.

Happy to have such a solid excuse to return to the swamp that reminded her even a little of the jungles of her homeland, Ma'zurah procured a herbalist's bag and a book of local plants in a language she could actually read, and set off the next day, walking instead of riding, taking in the landscape at her own pace. It was beautiful, but lonely. She wished she had someone to share it with.

At least she had direction. She was not sure what she would have done with herself without direction. She had a task, and it distracted her minutely from the horrible anxiety of being so completely alone in a foreign land full of strangers who did not care about her. She wished she had a friend. Just one person who cared would be enough. Maybe then she would not feel as though she was climbing a narrow tree branch over the head of a hungry tiger. She had no one to steady her if she started to lose her balance. The utter lack of social connection was a new experience for her, and not one she liked. She felt vulnerable.

She missed her friends back in the Imperial City. She had not felt so alone since she had found out she would never be allowed to return to Elsweyr, and even then she had still had Dra'nassa. She had gone from a tribe of many to a tribe of two in a single day--a day she had previously considered to be the worst in her life. It had been hard building up connections after that, to replace the support of the tribe she had grown up in with one of her own making, but she had done it. When Dra'nassa had died, she had made enough friends to see her through her grief without despair.

This was worse. Now she had no one. Cosades had made it clear she could not go back to her old life. She would have to start over from nothing again, this time without Dra'nassa's help.

It was enough to make her want to cry. She saw a mushroom and distracted herself with the task at hand. If the fur of her cheeks was wet, the mushrooms certainly did not care.

She had already filled the bag halfway by the time she got back to Seyda Neen. She presented herself to the scout Elone--again--and tried not to feel horrible and ridiculous when she introduced herself as the Blades' newest novice.

The woman seemed friendly enough, and gave her a copy of "Guide to Vvardenfell" with accompanying maps. Ma'zurah was grateful. Maps were expensive. Ma'zurah asked if there was anything she could do to help her in return. Elone pursed her lips and sent her to check on a friend of hers who lived a short way outside of town.

"She was supposed to come see me after she got back from her scouting," Elone told her. "She's late. I'd check on her myself, but I have work I have to finish. It's probably nothing, Jasmine can take care of herself, but it's not like her to stay out for so long. Just check at her house and tell me if she's there. She might just be sick or something."

Ma'zurah agreed and went to check.

The house was locked and appeared empty. There was no answer to her knock, so Ma’zurah peeked through the window, and saw no lights lit. Frowning, she checked the muddy path for tracks, trying to determine if Elone's friend had been home recently enough to leave evidence. Ma'zurah was not the greatest tracker, but she knew enough to hunt animals in deep jungle, and enough to discover a faint set of prints leading up to the house, and another of the same size heading down the path in the direction of the town. Perhaps she had just missed the woman? But no, neither set seemed fresh enough.

She followed the path and the footprints back in the direction of Seyda Neen, resolving to tell Elone of her discovery. She was most of the way back to town when she came across several more sets of footprints--at least three, all overlapping--intercepting the first set of footprints. The trail became smudged and some of the prints scattered and came back, and the next trail Ma’zurah could find led into the underbrush at an angle, away from town. Whoever they were, they had taken Elone's friend with them for reasons inscrutable to Ma'zurah. Kidnapping was not typical behavior for bandits, and surely if the woman had come across friends on the path, they would not have trampled the ground quite so much. Each subsequent scenario Ma'zurah thought of was more worrying than the last.

She followed the tracks to a cave, thanking Azurah for the wet ground. Trampled plants stuck to the mud, making the trail easy to follow all the way to the stone of the cave mouth. It was hidden against a hillside at the edge of the swamp, behind a set of boulders that blocked line of sight from the path. Ma’zurah cautiously poked her head inside, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness, and saw the glow of a fire.

She followed the cave a few paces deeper into the hillside until she found the source of the light: a campfire, with a Dark Elf woman tending it. An overturned rowboat had been pulled into the shelter of the cave as well, and the back wall was blocked off by a fence. There was something wrong here, something obvious Ma'zurah was missing, but she could not pinpoint what.

And she would not find out what was going on by standing here like a lump.

"Hello?" Ma'zurah called.

The woman by the fire whirled, knife drawn. Ma'zurah gasped and cast invisibility on herself and dove for the shadows.

"Ku’or havag?" the woman called, stalking toward the cave entrance.

Ma'zurah could have kicked herself. Why would a woman sitting in a cave at the edge of a swamp respond positively to an unexpected stranger, no matter what reason she had for being there? She should have predicted this kind of a reaction instead of calling out and making it that much harder to sneak past an alert person. And of course a Dark Elf would be speaking the Dark Elven language in Morrowind. Somehow, Ma'zurah had not yet run into the language barrier in any significant way. She was going to have to learn the language.

"Ku’or edur diru?" The woman passed Ma'zurah's hidden form and stared out into the swamp, frowning.

There was a moment's pause, and Ma'zurah huddled against the wall of the cave, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

The woman turned abruptly on her heel and approached the wooden fence set into the back of the cave, muttering something incomprehensible under her breath.

Ma'zurah followed as closely behind her as she dared, practically holding her breath. Her heart was pounding. There was definitely something wrong here. She was sure of it now, even if she could not say why. It was a subtle thing, told in the set of the woman's jaw, or the hardness of her expression. It made the fur on the back of Ma'zurah's neck stand up.

If she could only figure out what was going on, or even just confirm that Elone's friend was here, she would not have to report back to Elone with so little news. She wished she had asked Elone for a description of her friend Jasmine.

The Dark Elf opened the gate and Ma'zurah slipped in behind her. Beyond the gate, the cave split into two paths, the leftmost branch leading up to another fence with a gate in it, and the rightmost branch leading down a slope and out of sight. Ma'zurah thought she could hear running water somewhere below.

The Dark Elf woman took the rickety wooden ramp down the uneven stone slope to the right. Ma'zurah started to follow when the woman called something ahead of herself. Two more Dark Elves appeared at the bottom of the ramp, and the woman spoke urgently to them. Their faces turned grim, and both stalked toward Ma'zurah's position.

Ma'zurah nearly panicked, trying to scramble out of their way without making any noise. She darted up the ramp to the left until she was almost backed up against the fence at the top. Oblivious to Ma'zurah's presence, the two Elves exited toward the mouth of the cave, leaving the woman at the bottom to retreat further down and out of Ma'zurah's sight.

Heart racing, Ma'zurah slumped against the fence, and the invisibility spell broke.

"Hey," a low feminine voice hissed urgently through the fence behind her, making Ma'zurah jump. "Do you have the key?"

Ma'zurah's fingers froze in the process of reapplying her invisibility spell as she registered the words. She peered between the slats of the fence and discovered a brown oval face with wide dark eyes and long black hair.

"Are you Jasmine?" Ma'zurah whispered back.

The face hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Please, you have to get us out of here." There was the faintest edge of desperation in her whispered tones. Ma'zurah's hackles rose again.

"Us?" Ma'zurah asked numbly.

Jasmine stepped back, allowing Ma'zurah to see through the narrow gaps in the fence. Huddled at the back of the small enclosure were two Argonians and a Suthay-raht, all wearing only the barest scraps of clothing. The Argonians both had a greenish tint to their scales, but one of them was shorter with a long row of spikes protruding from forehead to back of the neck, while the other had a pair of spikes on either side of the head. The Khajiit was orange-furred, with black markings around his eyes and nose, and had long mustaches which hung down on either side of his mouth. He was also topless, Ma'zurah observed, feeling faintly scandalized by the display of torso fur. And she could see his ribs beneath his fur, she realized with a different kind of shock. She did not know much about Argonian anatomy, but they did not look too good either.

The pieces slotted into place suddenly, along with the memory of half-heard rumors from Cyrodiil. This was slavery. Those Dark Elves out there meant to sell these people. She had heard the Dark Elves kept slaves, but she had not realized what that meant before. Sudden tears of horror and sympathy pricked at her eyes.

"What should Ma’zurah do?" she asked Jasmine urgently. Jasmine was, she noticed, by far the healthiest looking of the group. "She can… She can run and get help?"

"There's no time,” Jasmine whispered back. “I overheard them say they were going to move us. We have to get out of here before that happens or you'll never be able to find us again. You've got to get the key to the gate, and maybe the keys to our shackles. If I had a weapon, I could fight, but I don't think the others could."

Ma'zurah nodded firmly. "Ma'zurah will be back."

She stalked invisibly down into the depths of the cave, past a branch of tunnel filled with water, and up a wooden deck covered with crates. Fury had eclipsed her fear. Her hands shook with how angry she felt. It was not right. How could anyone hold people captive like this and disregard their suffering? How could they use people's suffering for profit? How could they live with themselves?

The Dark Elf woman was not in sight, so Ma'zurah began searching crates. She had searched two, finding nothing but alcohol and cheap imported clothing before her head caught up to her and she cast a spell, willing her magicka to show her keys.

She saw the glow of something small atop a crate when her time ran out, and the Dark Elf woman walked into view.

Ma'zurah panicked, but instead of fleeing again, she dove for the woman, claws extended, spurred on by the anger that mixed oddly with her fear. The woman only had time to shriek "N'wah!" before Ma'zurah's hands wrapped around her throat, claws tearing.

The next thing she knew, the woman was motionless on the ground, and Ma'zurah's hands were slick with blood. She felt like she could not breathe properly, like someone had punched her in the gut. She had never hurt anyone before in her life, and now…

She scooped up the key and the woman's dagger and retreated up the ramp to free the others before her thoughts could catch up with her and render her useless. Her hands shook as she fitted the key in the lock, and the key nearly slipped between her blood-slick fingers.

The door came open, and Ma'zurah thrust the dagger into Jasmine's hands. "Here. Ma'zurah did not find the shackle keys. Can we leave without them?"

"Keep looking," one of the Argonians advised in a half-cracked voice. "We will not find many willing to remove slave bracers. We will draw too much attention wearing them."

"There are at least two more people around here," Ma'zurah warned, mentally beating her emotions into submission. Her hands were still shaking. "We will have to hurry before they come back."

They filed down into the lower recesses of the cave, Ma’zurah at the front, Jasmine bringing up the rear with the knife. The Suthay-raht looked sidelong at the body of the fallen Dark Elf as they passed, eyes flicking from the claw gouges on her neck to Ma’zurah’s bloody hands. There was something like approval in his eyes.

Ma’zurah cast the spell of finding again, looking for something that might unlock the magic suppressing bracers on the wrists of her companions. The spell revealed another key on the body of the Elf, but it was too big to fit into any of the shackles.

They proceeded further into the cave, uncovering more crates, more clothing, more alcohol, a small stack of coins, and a pile of pillows with what Ma'zurah's nose told her was moon sugar smuggled inside. She dumped one out, frowning at the little purple vials that fell along with the paper envelopes of white crystals. Confused, she sniffed one of the vials and got the overpowering scent of moon sugar and alchemy for her trouble.

"Skooma," the Suthay-raht rasped behind her in explanation.

Ma'zurah dropped the thing hastily. The Clan Mothers always taught that moon sugar was a blessing from Azurah, but skooma was a perversion created by Imperials.

It was also not a key. She searched the crates again for the telltale glow of the spell, but found nothing.

"There are no keys here," she told the group. They would have to keep moving.

They twisted around a narrow gap at the back of the cavern, only to find another wooden fence, and beyond it, a flooded tunnel descending down even further.

"We could dive for it," one of the Argonians offered, and distractedly Ma’zurah realized from her voice that the Argonian was probably female, though Ma'zurah was hardly in a position to judge someone's gender based on their physical attributes.

"I doubt they hid the keys underwater though," the second Argonian concluded.

There was a sudden shout from back the way they had come and Ma’zurah’s breath caught in her throat. The overwhelming emotions she had been suppressing threatened to overtake her again. In her peripheral vision, she saw Jasmine raise her knife and start back toward the noise, and Ma'zurah realized she had also committed herself to protecting these people. She frantically tried to remember everything she had learned about Destruction magic at the Arcane University and ran past Jasmine, readying a blast of frost.

She had just enough time to register that the two Dark Elves who had left had returned with three others in tow, and that they had just stumbled on the dead body of their compatriot, before she loosed the spell in her hands with as much force as she could muster.

There was a reverberating crack and a hair-raising rumble as the telekinetic blast propelling her spell forward connected not just with her foes, but with the far wall of the cave and a low hanging portion of the ceiling. Stone cracked, the ground shook, and before anyone had time to do anything more than scream, the roof caved in, burying the group of Dark Elves and the exit.

A deafening silence followed. Nobody moved.

“Well,” Jasmine began, lowering her dagger.

The mountainous pile of rock and gravel that covered the exit shifted slightly, and a scattering of scree clattered down the heap. One of the torches illuminating the cave flickered and died.

Ma’zurah sat down on the ground and promptly burst into tears.

“Oh no…” moaned the Suthay-raht. “Oh nooo…”

“Let’s not panic,” Jasmine said, with a kind of calm Ma’zurah could not imagine she actually felt. They were stuck here, and it was all Ma’zurah’s fault. She felt herself begin to hyperventilate.

“Be right back,” one of the Argonians said in a matter-of-fact tone. There was the sound of retreating footsteps, then a ripple of water and a splash.

A flicker of hope cut through Ma'zurah's panic at the sound. There might be another way out! She scrubbed at her face with her hands, trying to quiet her emotions. The scent of blood assaulted her nose like a warhammer and she recoiled, trying not to begin hyperventilating again for a different reason.

“Alright,” a deep reptilian voice said from just behind Ma’zurah, and Ma’zurah felt hands under her armpits, lifting her to her feet. “Come on, get up.”

The remaining Argonian clasped his hand around her upper arm and led her through the back of the cave to the flooded tunnel. He stopped at the water’s edge. “Clean yourself up a bit. You'll feel better.”

Ma’zurah nodded gratefully and knelt to wash her hands and face.

“Sorry,” she said guiltily once she had finished scrubbing. The cold water had grounded her flying emotions into a hard but manageable lump, and her newly regained clear-headedness brought with it an awful awareness. These people had been literal slaves, and here she was the only one crying like a newborn kitten.

The Argonian looked at her with an indecipherable expression. Heat blossomed in her face despite the chilly dampness of her fur. Her emotions still felt like a tangle, and she could not find the words to adequately explain why she was apologizing. “Thanks,” she finally said instead.

The Argonian turned his head away. “Don’t mention it.”

Jasmine appeared behind her with the Suthay-raht just as the water rippled and the other Argonian surfaced.

“It’s a bit of a climb,” she told them in her odd rasping accent, “but it looks like there is a way out.

Jasmine nodded firmly. “Alright, gather what you want to take from here, and let’s go.”

Ma’zurah simply sat at the water’s edge and waited for the others. The roiling tangle of emotion in her gut made the prospect of looting the remaining crates totally unappealing, and besides, the others probably needed the things more. They could get new clothes at least.

The Argonian was right. It was a bit of a climb. Once they surfaced on the other side of the flooded tunnel, they had to climb a tall bank to get out of the water, and then up a steep tunnel that opened suddenly behind a cluster of stalactites into the cavern wall above and to the right of the fence that led to the freed slaves’ erstwhile cell. Once they made the drop down, they had only to walk over and open the gate that led to the cave entrance.

“Wait,” Ma’zurah said suddenly, remembering. “Your shackles--”

“We know,” said Jasmine quietly.

“The keys were probably buried,” one of the Argonians explained. Guilt shot through Ma'zurah. No one had cast any blame, but she still felt it.

“We’ll figure something out once we get out of here.” Jasmine gestured them through the gate. “We can go to my house. It’s not far.”

They went to Jasmine’s house. She retrieved a key from a flower pot and let them inside, and the five of them collapsed onto the plush rug in the middle of Jasmine’s floor, relieved and emotionally drained after their ordeal. There was a long moment of silence.

Jasmine got up abruptly and rummaged through her cupboards. She returned with half a loaf of bread and a knife, and served each of them slices.

Ma’zurah chewed hers in silence. As soon as Jasmine’s door had closed between her and the outside world, she had felt her grasp on her emotions slipping. She could feel the tears coming. She could not let the others see her cry again. She did not know what would be worse, having them ignore her or try to comfort her.

She stood up. “Ma’zurah needs to-- Ma’zurah has got to-- Be back.” She fled out the front door and into the little outhouse at the side of Jasmine’s house. She closed the door behind her and took one shaky breath before the tears came in full force and she was sobbing and shuddering. She sat down on the wooden outhouse seat, still in her damp clothing, and rode the wave of her emotions.

She felt bad. And once she felt bad about one thing, more reasons to feel bad flooded her. She could have died! She had not cast invisibility, and instead she had fought, and she could have died. She had never hurt anyone before, but this time she had fought and killed someone. Several someones, actually, but the rest were not nearly as personal as the first someone. They could have killed her, but instead she had their blood on her hands, figuratively and literally, though she did not think she felt nearly as bad about them being dead as she did about having to be the one to commit the act. That also made her feel bad. What was wrong with her that she was more upset about having clawed a woman’s throat out than about the woman being dead? She was no stranger to blood, but killing animals was nothing like killing people. And still, she felt less upset about having dropped a cave on top of a group of people than she did about the memory of warm blood beneath her claws. She should not feel like this!

And then there was the slavery. She had not thought about what slavery was really like before. It had always been an abstract concept that was far away and never affected her personally. To be confronted by the reality of it so suddenly was a shock, though she probably should have seen it coming. She just had not connected the Morrowind of Imperial rumor and speculation with the Morrowind she had been sent to. Was she in danger of being captured and sold? She supposed she was, especially since that seemed to be what had happened to Jasmine, and Jasmine was not even Khajiit! This province was dangerous. She did not feel safe!

Why had they sent her here? She did not want to be here! She did not know anything about this place. She did not even speak the language! She wanted to be back in the Imperial City studying magic and laughing with her friends. She was alone here. She did not have any friends in this strange land--no clan, not even the self-made clan she had gathered around herself after she had been exiled from Elsweyr, and after Dra’nassa had died. She had never been so alone in her life. It was terrifying.

The tears came harder. She felt so bad! The mental refrain felt like a wail.

And she could not leave! She could not leave after swearing an oath to the Blades, or she would be branded a traitor and hunted down and imprisoned for the rest of her life! It was a kind of slavery itself, whether she stayed or tried to leave. She had not done anything to deserve this kind of treatment! Whoever had picked her to join the Blades obviously did not know anything about her. She was the worst pick for that kind of job. They should have asked instead of forcing her to join. She did not want it! She just wanted to leave. But she could not, because they were coercing her, and she was scared. She was scared of being branded a traitor and hunted, she was scared of the Blades, and she was scared of Caius Cosades. Caius Cosades was not a nice man. She wished she never had to speak to him again. She wished she never had to speak to any of the Blades again, even Elone, who seemed nice, but could not be trusted because she was a Blade, and the Blades were not nice people.

She felt so bad. She felt so bad! She was alone in this province, no friends, no clan, no one who cared if she felt bad, and she could not leave, and she was angry and scared, and she felt so bad!

There was a knock on the outhouse door. “Ma’zurah?” Jasmine’s voice was muffled, but recognizable.

Ma’zurah sniffled and scrubbed at her face with the heel of her hand. The fur of her cheeks, already damp from the swim through the flooded tunnel, was soaked again. “Sorry, Ma’zurah will be out soon,” she managed to croak out. Her nose was stuffed up, and her eyes were sore and puffy.

“I brought you a change of clothes. I thought you might want something dry.”

Ma’zurah opened the door. Jasmine’s face fell at the sight of her. “Oh dear…”

Ma’zurah shook her head violently. “No no, Ma’zurah does not want to hear it. Jasmine has been through much worse.”

Jasmine drew her brows together. “It’s not a competition. What's wrong?"

Ma'zurah shook her head mutely. There was no way she was going to lay her troubles on someone who still wore the shackles of slavery. The Clan Mothers had not raised her to be a burden.

Jasmine clicked her tongue. "Well, it looks like a change of clothes isn't going to be enough. Come inside and I'll get you a towel. Baadargo is using my washtub right now, but you're welcome to bathe after him."

With guilt, Ma'zurah realized she had not asked for the names of any of the others. How self absorbed was she? Her emotions felt like they had been scraped raw, and tears welled in her eyes again.

Jasmine's eyes went wide. "Whoa, hey, it's alright! You're alright, okay?" Her hands fluttered around Ma'zurah's shoulders, but did not quite touch her.

Ma'zurah nodded agreement, but the tears would not go away. She contemplated retreating into the outhouse again, but she had already alarmed Jasmine enough. She needed a distraction.

"Tell Ma'zurah--" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat and tried again. "Tell Ma'zurah how Jasmine got in that cave?"

Jasmine's shoulders slumped and she let out a long sigh. Alarmed at her suddenly morose expression, Ma'zurah made a placating gesture. "You do not have to--"

"No, it's-- You deserve to hear it after everything you did for me. Actually, I was meaning to thank you. If you hadn't come along…" Jasmine paused, eyes distant. "I was just trying not to think about it yet."

"Ma'zurah is sorry--"

Jasmine shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry about." Her shoulders straightened again. "In any case, there's no point standing around out here when we could be sitting inside. I'll find you a towel, and then I'll tell you the whole thing if you want."

Ma'zurah followed Jasmine inside, reluctant to show her face to the others, but unwilling to be rude to the woman who was trying to be nice to her.

As soon as they got inside, the pair of Argonians approached them. Ma'zurah tried to hide behind Jasmine without looking like she was doing so.

"You have been a most generous to host us," the deeper-voiced of the Argonians told Jasmine, making a complicated hand gesture.

“And a kind rescuer,” the second interjected, pointedly looking at Ma’zurah and making the same gesture. Ma'zurah's face felt too warm.

“And we wish to show our gratitude."

The pair of them exchanged glances, and the second one took up where the first had left off. "We have nothing we could offer as thanks, so we were thinking--"

The first one made eye contact with Jasmine. "If you are willing to lend us the use of your cooking fire--"

"And you are willing to wait for us to catch the fish before we cook them…" The second Argonian shoved an admonishing hand against the first's shoulder with a look that might have contained amusement, though Ma'zurah was no expert at reading Argonian expressions.

Jasmine blinked at the pair. "By all means, feel free," she told them, sounding surprised.

"Then we will be back with a feast!" the first Argonian declared, and the pair of them exited the house.

"At least they're happy," Jasmine said with a shake of her head. She crossed the room and searched her cabinets for a towel.

Ma’zurah stood in the doorway and took in the room for the first time. The house was small, probably only two rooms large; modest by Imperial standards, but clean. The room she was in held a kitchen in the Imperial style, a table, a fireplace, a writing desk, and a large bookshelf, but no bed, and no washtub. Ma’zurah could hear the sounds of splashing from the next room. She could even hear the Suthay-raht, Baadargo singing muffled snatches of song in what must have been the Dark Elf language, because it certainly was not Ta'agra. With a pang of loneliness, Ma’zurah realized she had not heard anyone speak Ta’agra since she got to Morrowind. She hugged her arms around her chest.

Jasmine returned with a fluffy towel, which she draped gently across Ma'zurah's shoulders, and led her out of the doorway. Ma’zurah followed her with a painful hope in her chest. Jasmine was being nice, friendly even, and Ma’zurah had been so alone. She desperately needed a friend. She felt like they had the spark of connection; maybe Jasmine could be the friend she needed.

Once Ma’zurah was dry and clothed in Jasmine's loaned dress, she found herself sitting next to Jasmine at the table as the woman began the story of how she had gotten caught.

"I've been working with my friend Elone to track the activity of smugglers along this section of the Bitter Coast--"

Ma'zurah had to interrupt. "Is Jasmine a Blade too?" she blurted out, dreading the answer. Blades could not be trusted, no matter how nice they were. She cringed, realizing what she had just said.

Jasmine gave her a puzzled and vaguely alarmed look. "No, I'm technically an independent contractor. Elone commissions me to help her when she gets assignments too big for one person or she's too busy to go out herself. But now I'd like to know how you know Elone is a Blade. Not many people know that."

Ma'zurah bit her lip. She had probably given away too much already. She had been raised by the Clan Mothers; she was supposed to know the value of keeping secrets. She knew it was expected of her as a Blade, but she just was not cut out for weaving the kind of elaborate subterfuge required of a spy. They should have asked her before dragging her into this mess. She felt bitter about the whole thing, and not a little rebellious. She was tired and lonely. She wanted to tell Jasmine. Besides, if Jasmine knew the truth about Elone, Cosades probably would not punish her for telling the truth about herself as well. Especially if he never found out.

"Ma'zurah is a Blade too now," she mumbled. She felt absurdly like she was telling a dirty secret, though she was not sure she could articulate why.

Jasmine opened her mouth, stopped, and closed it again. "I see," she said finally. Something in her expression became ever so slightly more closed off, as though she was watching her words in a way she had not been before. Maybe she was worried about getting Elone in trouble, or maybe she did not trust the Blades either. Maybe she thought Ma'zurah was like Cosades. The thought made Ma'zurah feel as though she could not breathe. She was filled with the sudden, desperate need to tell Jasmine the whole story; to distance herself from the Blades and prove she was not one of them, not really. She wanted to regain that small measure of trust that she had just lost. She was already so isolated, she did not want to lose this connection. She needed a friend so badly.

"You asked why Ma'zurah was upset," she began urgently, leaning closer to Jasmine.

"Yes?" Jasmine looked surprised at the change of subject.

"It is related."

The story came torrenting out: the illegal prostitution charges, the prison sentence, the inexplicable deportation, the package for Caius Cosades, the extortion. She told her about how she did not want to be a Blade, how she did not feel safe in Morrowind, and how she could not leave. She started crying again in the middle of it, and Jasmine put a hand on her knee. Ma'zurah hid her face in her damp towel, but kept talking until she got it all out.

"I'm sorry, that sounds awful," was Jasmine's quietly horrified response. Ma'zurah's gaze flicked to the magic suppressing slave bracer still locked around Jasmine's wrist and remembered her resolution not to be a burden. She could not bring herself to regret telling Jasmine though, because there was genuine sympathy in her eyes now instead of that quiet wariness. And Ma’zurah would not be a burden if this was a mutual exchange.

"Your turn," she said, sniffling. "You just got captured by slavers. Do you want to talk about it?"

Jasmine closed her eyes. "No, but I should."

She told Ma’zurah about how she had been scouting, and been caught snooping too close to the smugglers' cave. She had made a hasty retreat, and thought she had avoided being pursued, so she had gone home. She was on her way into town to report to Elone when she had been ambushed. She could have fought them off if one of them had not snuck up on her from behind.

"I was so scared…" Jasmine's voice was so small it was nearly a whisper. “They were going to sell me. Who knows what would have happened to me after that. They said I would be… valuable. Because of my looks. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life. Not even when--not ever.” She closed her eyes, and the tears that had been slowly welling in them finally spilled over. She swiped at them with her fingertips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“It is fine." Ma'zurah put a hand on Jasmine's knee. "It seems like a reasonable reaction.”

Jasmine shook her head and covered her face with her hands.

Baadargo chose that moment to open the door to the next room. He looked much better. His orange fur had been combed, and he was dressed in more than just rags. He took in the scene and his eyes gained a quality similar to those of a frozen deer. Ma’zurah tried to offer him a tremulous smile, but he retreated, closing the door behind him quietly.

“Sorry,” Jasmine repeated once her shoulders stopped shaking. She tried to wipe her face with her hands, and Ma’zurah offered a corner of her towel. Jasmine looked at it skeptically, and went to retrieve a washcloth instead.

“In the cave,” Jasmine continued after she had wiped her face and steadied her breath, “you asked me if I was Jasmine. How did you know who I was, and where to find me?”

“Elone asked Ma’zurah to check at Jasmine’s house to see if she was there. Ma’zurah found footprints leading from Jasmine’s house, and she followed them.”

“I see. Thank you. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if you hadn’t done that.”

Ma’zurah nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but Jasmine had closed her eyes and was sitting very still. She looked like she was waiting, Ma’zurah thought, or listening.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s over.”

“It is,” Ma’zurah assured her. “They cannot sell you, or anyone now.”

Jasmine just shook her head. "The thought of going back out, scouting the Bitter Coast like before…" Jasmine took a shuddering breath. "I don't think I can do it. Not--not yet. Not for a while, maybe, and not by myself."

Ma'zurah nodded sympathetically.

"What are you doing after this?" Jasmine asked, turning her focus back to Ma'zurah with a suddenness that startled her.

"Er, Ma'zurah is doing jobs for the Balmora Mages Guild, she thinks. Why?"

"Do you think--" She stopped and tried a new tack. "You seem like you can take care of yourself."

Ma'zurah nodded slowly. She usually took care of herself by turning invisible when things became dangerous, but she supposed today's events proved she could take care of herself in other ways too. She was not sure where Jasmine was going with this.

"Do you think I could… travel with you for a while? Help you with jobs?" Jasmine's voice sounded hopeful, and her words tumbled out in a rush. "Only if you want the company. I wouldn't be a burden. I have a strong sword arm, and I'm good with a bow. I couldn't ask Elone for something like this, she can't leave the Bitter Coast right now, and I don't know anyone else well enough to be able to ask--"

"Yes!" Ma'zurah felt like she would burst. She would not be alone anymore! She threw her arms around Jasmine's shoulders. "Yes, of course! Ma'zurah would be glad to have your company."

Jasmine stiffened in surprise, then released a breath and returned Ma'zurah's embrace, smiling ruefully. "It will be good to get back on the road again."

Ma'zurah sat back and beamed at her.

"First things first. We have to take care of these." Jasmine tapped the bracer on her wrist. "I don't think it would be safe to ask a blacksmith or a locksmith for help, but I was thinking maybe we could get some scrolls. They might be expensive, but maybe Elone knows someone who--"

"Hold on." Ma'zurah's brow furrowed. The idea of scrolls pinged something in her recollection. "Ma'zurah has a thought. In theory, Ma'zurah knows a spell. She has never used it, but before Jasmine speaks of buying expensive scrolls, perhaps she would like Ma'zurah to try."

"Is it dangerous?"

Ma'zurah pursed her lips. "Not really. Definitely not if it is cast correctly."

Jasmine gave her a searching look and hesitantly proffered her arm.

It took two tries. The first time it failed outright, and Ma'zurah wished she had access to her notes far away at the Arcane University. The second time the lock came open with a muffled click.

“Thank you,” Jasmine breathed, rubbing her wrist and sounding supremely relieved. “I should--we should let the others know.” She rose and knocked on the door to the next room. “Baadargo?”

There was no answer.

Frowning, Jasmine opened the door.

The orange Khajiit was asleep on the floor, curled into a tight ball in the corner of the room.

He peeked an eye open at their approach. “This one can come out now?”

"Why are you on the floor?" Jasmine asked, bemused.

"Where else should this one be?"

"The bed?"

Baadargo looked over at the bed and Ma'zurah followed his gaze. It was a nice bed, with soft, clean blankets smoothed over the top, and not a wrinkle in sight.

"That is the bed of muthsera Jasmine, not Baadargo." The Khajiit's voice was plaintive. "This one did not want to mess it up."

Jasmine tisked, but let it drop.

“Show Ma’zurah Baadargo’s bracer please?” Ma'zurah asked, helping the Suthay-raht to his feet.

He held out his wrist and Ma’zurah opened the lock.

“Fantastic! Can this one learn to do such things?” Baadargo’s tone was wondering, as though Ma'zurah had handed him a precious gift and he could hardly believe it.

Jasmine laughed along with the joy on the Suthay-raht's face, but Ma’zurah gave his question serious consideration. “Does Baadargo have a talent for magic?”

Baadargo’s face fell slightly, though the joy remained. “This one does not know. This one has never had the bracer off long enough to find out before.”

“Never?” Jasmine asked, horrified.

“This one was born with it.”

Ma’zurah gaped at the Suthay-raht. Her mind boggled at the thought of being born into slavery. She could not imagine a life like that.

A look of concern had affixed itself to Jasmine’s face. “If you've never been free, do you have anywhere to go? Or anywhere you want to go?”

Baadargo nodded. “This one has heard rumors. They say the scaled ones in Ebonheart will help those who want to leave. Baadargo was going there.”

“Alright.” Jasmine glanced at Ma’zurah. “I guess that will be our first stop.”

Ma’zurah nodded.

Jasmine spent the next hour packing and preparing her house for her imminent absence. Ma’zurah laid the things in her bag out to dry, lamenting the water damage to her new maps, and then proceeded to sit at the kitchen table and attempt to teach Baadargo how to access his own well of magicka.

At some point the pair of Argonians returned with three large fish and a mudcrab, which they gleefully cooked. Ma’zurah demonstrated again the spell of opening, which prompted the Argonians to speak animatedly of their plans to return to the marshes of their homeland. Jasmine suggested they travel with Baadargo to look for assistance first, and to that end, the five of them hired two fishing boats from the outskirts of Seyda Neen to take them to Ebonheart directly, avoiding the main roads. Jasmine and Ma’zurah stopped to assure Elone that Jasmine was fine before they departed.

When they arrived at the fort, Jasmine had only to ask for “the Argonians” to be directed to the Argonian Embassy. They had barely taken two steps inside before they encountered a tall Argonian in an elegant robe, who quickly divined the situation and whisked the three former slaves away to a safe place.

Then it was just Ma’zurah and Jasmine. Ma’zurah gave Jasmine the details of her job for the Balmora Mages Guild, and the pair of them set off in the direction of Balmora. There was a lightness to Ma’zurah’s step that she had not felt since before she had been imprisoned in Cyrodiil.

Ma’zurah looked over at the Redguard walking beside her. She still missed the life she had lost, the life she could not go back to, but at least now she was not completely alone. Now she had a friend.

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Part 9

Short and sweet but powerful and impactful. Also this is just an excuse to show how GORGEOUS Chinese hanfu is. Look at it. I want to wear it and feel like an empress too. Not that I’m fetishizing it or anything, I just think it’s gorgeous. Thanks to @kriskukko for letting me use that regency orc art. He’s gorgeous. Don’t worry the troll will be coming up soon. I haven’t forgotten about him, not at all. Also thank to you @punkhorse96 for all your amazing feedback. 

Blood For Gold 

Part 9

Demsey woke up early and quickly got dressed in one of his nicer, and more flattering suits, eager to not miss a moment of your presence before he got out at about the same time as his brothers, also dressed in some of their nicer clothes only to see the moura men come out of their rooms across the hall, all of them wearing silk robe like garments that flowed like water around them, but the way the robes were designed and patterned, they were clearly more than just..robes, at least they looked that way as they all greeted each other good morning cordially before they rounded a corner to see Calla, Bennie and yourself also leaving Bennie’s room, dressed in similar robes, all the women had their hair down and these robes were much prettier and in striking colors as you all kissed each other’s cheeks and warmly murmured your good mornings to each other. 

“So what kind of dress is that?” Sierge asked Bennie curiously. 

“It’s Chinese hanfu, it’s extremely comfortable, it’s cool in the summer, warm in the winter depending on which layers you use and how many layers you put on and it’s easy enough that you can dress yourself all by yourself and it provides freedom of movement. Mouras really love anything we can move around a lot in and do so comfortably and there’s pants under it so you can ride horses, pegasus’, griffins and dragons easily, we decided earlier this morning that every day for the next two weeks, we would want to show our English counterparts Dorierran culture which is a world culture and show you all the different styles Dorierra has and embraces in all of it’s quarters and we decided that today was hanfu day, we already informed the Dauphine who was delighted at our choice and had her old moura clothes pulled out of storage while Audra gave Charlotte one of her other hanfu dresses to wear since Charlotte and Audra are similar in size.” Bennie revealed just as Demsey’s sisters were coming out of their rooms from across the hall and stared in awed wonder at the clothes. 

“Those are gorgeous!” Callie gushed as she came over and looked closely at the dresses. 

“Thank you! It’s Chinese hanfu, we have spare dresses, would you like to change into one of ours?” Calla offered before Callie looked to her brothers before her parents came out of their rooms. 

“Calla offered me to wear what she’s wearing could I?” Callie asked hopefully. 

“Sure.” Gwen, Callie’s mother answered. 

“Would anyone else like to change in hanfu?” Bennie asked Demsey’s sisters before they gave a look to each other and nodded yes before all the girls went back into Bennie’s room where you all helped Amara, Kiera and Callie dress into traditional chinese hanfu, taking off their corsets and trading them for the more traditional moura and much more comfortable undergarments which other than securing the bosom were not nearly as restrictive.  

“Ooooh, this is nice, I like this.” Amara said as she appraised herself in the mirror as you walked her through tying the sash around her waist before you lent her one of your other fans. 

“Isn’t it?” You laughed as Bennie helped Kiera and Calla helped Callie who because of her smaller size ended up needing one of your hanfu outfits to fit her better. 

“So what do you think?” Calla asked Callie

“I love it, do you guys just pick whichever kind of dress you want from whatever culture you want every day?” Callie asked. 

“Yup. We can dress in Chinese hanfu for breakfast, we can dress in Japanese kimonos for lunch and be in Indian sarees for dinner.” Calla answered. 

“But kimonos are very restrictive, and they take at least one or two helpers to get dressed into properly. Because while Chinese hanfu is flowy, kimonos are very stiff and try to put your round body into a straight box shape. But Indian saree’s are like hanfu in that they’re meant to move in, they’re prettiest when you dance and twirl in them actually.” You pointed out. 

“But my favorite style is the Dorierrian style, it’s a mixture of all of them, elements of everything all together to make something perfectly unique and it combines comfort, beauty, ease of movement and functionality.” Bennie insisted as she finished getting Kiera put together. 

“Now twirl in front of the mirror.” Bennie instructed before Kiera obeyed as she began and couldn’t help but giggle and laugh as she did so before all her sisters did the same, all of you laughing together. 

“I’m never going to want to take this off and get back into that blasted corset.” Kiera said as she smoothed her hands down the fabric. 

“Me either.” Amara confessed before you all left and went to breakfast where the Raymond’s had already began eating. 

“Well aren’t you all just as lovely as pictures.” Yalin cooed when she saw all of you, herself in the royal red and gold hanfu befitting an empress. 

“Yes, they duchesses wanted to try out hanfu.” Bennie reported proudly as she took her seat between Sierge and Demsey as Ramsey eagerly had you sit next to him as you reluctantly agreed and sat down in your own seat next to Ramsey but across from Demsey again as Jane meekly sat next to you. 

“Do you think my parents would be mad if I dressed in hanfu too?” Jane murmured to you. 

“Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell them if you wouldn’t.” You murmured back to her. 

“Do you have another hanfu dress?” Jane whispered.

“I do, I can get you changed into it after breakfast if you’d like.” You offered her before she nodded in confirmation. 

“And your excellency, how exquisite you look in hanfu, like a proper empress.” You complimented Yalin from her spot next to her husband. 

“Thank you so much Sultana,” Yalin thanked you graciously. 

“Please, won’t you dispense with the formalities? You may simply call me Audra.” You offered. 

“Only if you will call me Mama Yalin.” She returned happily. 

“Bennie!” Benyana insisted.

“Calla,” Callalea chimed in. 

“Amara,” Amara followed suit before it was quickly agreed to go by first names, even the Dauphin, Gregori agreed to it as Demsey’s parents rose their eyebrows in surprise but agreed to it as well, thinking it was novel and fun and it would give them a chance to get to know the jewel orcs better. But even still, Gwen could see from her spot that Ramsey was already making his intentions towards you crystal clear and feared that Demsey was already in over his head and was headed for at the very least disappointment, if not disaster, but she also knew her son well enough that once he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t quit until it was all said and done, she just hoped he wouldn’t be wounded too deeply or get his hopes too high only for them to be dashed to pieces. 

After breakfast, the group decided to tour the grounds where Bennie took Gregori and Yalin aside. 

“So I have a report,” Bennie began as Yalin and Gregori turned towards her eagerly. 

“Audra states that only love will induce her into matrimony this time around and because of the abusive treatment she received at Broadcove, she is a shell of her former self and it was like trying to pry open an oyster with a wooden spoon to get her to talk about anything. But there is leverage. She insisted that she has “insurance” against the Morrigans should they ever decide to stop paying for her silence, which is smart because she’s used that insurance to double the living Edward afforded her, I think if you enticed her to share that insurance with you, you could double that number even still and gain at least fifty to sixty thousand pounds a year out of the Morrigans because you can “sue” them for damaging Audra who will be a member of the Raymond household and Ramsey especially can sue them for damaging his future fiance and the Morrigans will pay anything to keep whatever insurance Audra has from going public or going to the royal family or whatever. However, if you truly wish for Audra to join your family, there is a simple solution- use a messengerari, use this address at lunchtime because it’ll be breakfast time there, and that is the family’s main one. Tell them that you have Audravienne safely and comfortably at your palace and that they are welcome to come and see her and talk with her with no interference, no strings attached and that she will confide in them how and why she became a shakan and Audravienne will take their council and advice which I can’t imagine them ever giving her any advice that would be against joining your family. Make sure to especially invite her twin brother Axalarize, or Axal for short. And if anyone can bring Audra back to her full glory and most importantly to her senses and her wits so that she can clearly and plainly see that Ramsey is the man for her and allow herself to give her heart to him- it’s Axal, and once she does, the rest of her will follow, you’ll have grateful inlaws, you’ll have a grateful daughter in law and a very healthy and substantial income and an ally under your thumb. Because the Morrigans should know that for every drop of life and blood you squeeze from a moura, must be paid back in gold, and don’t worry about having to pay a fee for them to come, they will come on their own dime and all you need to do is open your house up to them when they come.” Bennie suggested as she handed Yalin and Gregori her slip of paper with the address of the Saharrazat’s messengerari address as Gregori took it and grinned triumphantly. 

“Excellent work Bennie.” Gregori praised. 

“Well the royal family paid a pretty penny to get us here, it’s the least we can do to make sure you get your monies worth.” Bennie smiled charmingly. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Duke to charm.” Bennie excused herself before she practically skipped away. 

[chaletnz]

Hydrangea Viewing in Kamakura

I pushed myself to get an early start today and travelled south to Shinagawa where I changed trains to one bound for Kamakura. I had tried to get some pancakes for breakfast on the way, but the restaurant was so busy, and I didn’t want to wait for a table. It was a long journey but at least I was able to get a seat! At the platform in Kamakura station the train was delayed as the volume of people simply could not tap out fast enough. It was busier here than any platform in Tokyo during this trip. The flood of people slowly made their way across the platform, down the stairs and out the ticket gates to the station. I set off down the main shop street where I tried a second time to get some pancakes – now feeling very hungry! There was a staircase leading up to the restaurant so I joined the queue behind the people already there. I waited about 15 minutes and then more people joined behind me, however they somehow knew to go up inside into the restaurant and sign their names on a waiting list. So everyone behind me effectively cut me out of the queue. I was raging and starving so I went to eat a snack I’d brought with me on some steps on a side road. Of course, this is Japan and foreigners are not welcome to behave like this. I’d no sooner finished and had a drink and an old man came out and told me in English “don’t sit here, this is a church”. I would’ve thought a “church” would be a bit more tolerant but there you have it. To be honest, before I even sat down I knew that someone would come and have something to say about it. I was already finished my snack by this point but I stood and leaned against the railing for a while instead just to annoy him. I was so far not enjoying Kamakura at all. Of course, this could’ve all been avoided if I didn’t decide to make the trip on a Sunday of all days. It seems like all Japanese people go out on the weekends (even in a state of emergency mind you) and you can never find any peace. Unfortunately with my schedule changed to include the US visa medical exam the only full day I had available was the Sunday. The reason for the crowds – June is hydrangea season, there are huge blue flowers blooming everywhere. Kamakura has several shrines where they plant the hydrangeas for the late springtime viewing. After trying to cheer myself up with a coffee from Verve Coffee Roasters I looked around Tsurugaoka shrine at the far end of the shop street. I then walked all the way back down to the Hase Temple about 30 minutes away. It was a good walk, luckily the temperature had dropped today to about 25 degrees. The entrance ticket cost 400 yen and it was super crowded inside – a nice little moneymaker. My colleague Tomoko had recommended that I take a number for the flower path viewing right away so once I found the way up I was going to get one. More bad news, the flower viewing was not included in the entrance ticket, I had to pay an additional 300 yen to get a ticket for the hydrangea path. Also, the waiting time was about 3 hours! Nope!

As I left the Hase temple just the icing on a bad day, I saw a woman abusing her little 3 year old son outside the main entrance. She was yelling and screaming and pulling him around by the arm. The boy wasn’t crying or complaining, he just looked confused. I didn’t understand what was happened either, but she was making a fuss over his hat as though maybe he had dropped it and it had gotten dirty. She and him were both well-dressed so obviously appearances were very important to her. All the Japanese walking down the street were gawking at them but no one would step in to do anything. As she was yelling at him, I walked between them slowly pretending to be an oblivious tourist taking photos but also glanced obviously at her – I wanted her to know that people are watching her. She dragged the boy behind a statue to block the view from the road, she screamed at him some more and took her hat off and threw it at him. She then ran off down the road and left him there. Bless this sweet boy, he picked up his mother’s hat and ran after her. I also followed quickly behind, thinking in my head what limited Japanese I could say to the police if I had to call them. She was running so fast I lost sight of her, and the boy, but I saw a Japanese guy running in the same direction so I followed him. And sure he enough he ran to the boy, scooped him up and carried him away. Finally someone had intervened and could talk to the police so I felt alright leaving then. A bit shaken, I kept on walking to the Great Buddha at the nearby Kotoku-in temple. Another 300 yen for the entrance fee here, and while still crowded it was much less so than the Hase temple. I couldn’t get a clear photo of the statue without people in it but I was able to sit on a bench and have another drink and snack. I took the city tram back to Kamakura station and it was the most crowded ride I’ve been on, some later stops people couldn’t even get on because it was bursting. I saw a Turkish restaurant on the corner and decided to treat myself to a Turkish coffee, and they even had baklava so of course I went for that too! Once I was back in Tokyo I ended up in Harajuku so I nipped out for a cinnamon roll from IKEA, then went to Shake Shack in central Tokyo for a burger and fries dinner that was much needed after a day of not eating very much.