#maybe you are living the worst possible life possible and all the choices you've made are wrong but the only way out is through

[neon-impressions]

I AM SOFT AND KIND AND FULL OF LOVE

[asha-mage]

“She hurt me, Nynaeve. She hurt me. They all did. They hurt me, and hurt me, until I did what they wanted. I hate them. I hate them for hurting me, and I hate them because I couldn’t stop them from making me do what they wanted.” “I know,” Nynaeve said gently. She smoothed Egwene’s hair. “It is all right to hate them, Egwene. It is. They deserve it. But it isn’t all right to let them make you like they are.” Seta's hands where pressed to her face. Renna touched the collar at her throat disbelievingly, with a shaking hand. Egwene straightened, brushing her tears away quickly. "I'm not. I am not like them." She clawed the bracelet of her wrist and threw it down. "I'm not. But I wish I could kill them." "They deserve it." Min was staring grimly at the two sul'dam. "Rand would kill someone who did a thing like that." Elayne said. She seemed to be steeling herself. "I am sure he would." "Perhaps they do." Nynaeve said, "and perhaps he would. But men often mistake revenge and killing for justice. They seldom have the stomach for true justice." She had often sat in judgement with the Women's Circle. Sometimes men came before them, thinking women might give them a better hearing than the men of the Village Council, but men always thought they could sway the decision with eloquence, or pleas for mercy. The Women's Circle gave mercy where it was deserved, but justice always, and it was the Wisdom who pronounced it. She picked up the bracelet Egwene had discarded and closed it. "I would free every woman here if I could, and destroy every last one of these. But since I cannot..." She slipped the bracelet over the same beg that held the other one, then addressed herself to the sul'dam. Not leash holders any longer, she told herself. "Perhaps if you are very quiet, you will be left alone here long enough to manage to remove the collars. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and it may be that you've done enough good to counterbalance the evil yo have done, enough that you will be allowed to remove them. If not, you will be found, eventually. And I think whoever finds you will ask a great man questions before they remove those collars. I think perhaps you will earn first hand the life you have given to other women. That is justice." She added to the others. Renna wore a fixed stare of horror. Seta's shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands. Nynaeve hardened her heart- is it justice, she told herself, it is- and herded the others out of the room.

This probably my favorite moment in The Great Hunt, maybe my favorite Nynaeve moment overall, which is saying something since she has a truly impressive number of amazing moments. It's easy to forget sometimes that as a Wisdom Nynaeve wasn't just a healer and guide to her people, but also a judge, an arbiter, a leader. This is a woman who has to sit in judgement, to weigh the lives of men and women, to give justice and know that when she spoke it, it would be as law. The stakes might not be has a high as they are for say, Morgase, yet that doesn't mean her choices matter less, especially to those she presided over.

And her insight here: about how men often mistake killing and revenge for justice, and instead lack the stomach for real justice, rings both true to real life, and true to Nynaeve's character. What she does this in this moment, leaving Renna and Seta at the mercy of their fellow sul'dam, and their own twisted culture, facing the very real possibility that they might be chained, might suffer, in the way they have chained other women, made other women suffer, is a lot more harsh then simply killing the women, especially in light of what we as readers and Nynaeve as a character know from first hand knowledge of Egwene's experience as damane. Killing them would likely be more merciful given the bleak existence they are now faced with.

Maybe worst of all, she gives them an unlikely sliver of hope. Maybe fate will allow them to go free, maybe the Wheel will have mercy on them, as unlikely as that seems.

And maybe more interestingly the Wheel does give them mercy, but not because they deserve it, but rather to offer them a chance to attone for their deeds many books later. They both live, but suffer in the mean time, prisoners of Suroth, having lost all their status and power within the sul'dam. And when Mat has need of aid to save three Aes Sedai from captivity in Ebu Dar, Renna and Seta get the chance to aid in the escpae and perform some small measure of atonement for what they did to Egwene. (And when Renna rejects that chance at redemption and tries to flee back to the Empire, to her old life, she dies for it, killed before she can ever sight the Seanchan army again).

Anyways Nynaeve great, and Jordan's themes of what justice means, what balance means, are still awesome.

[tathrin]

🖤 a dark ship?

[from this ask meme]

I think I have to answer Silvergifting for this one. (And let me also throw you a rec for my brand new Celebrimbor joins the Fellowship AU, with lots of post-Silvergifting trauma baked-in.)

For starters I'm completely obsessed with the very idea of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain and desperately need some kind of hardcore world building 75-chapter story set in Ost-in-Edhil about these crazy smiths and the culture of their city. And of course you cannot talk about Ost-in-Edhil without talking about Sauron, and how he wormed his way into their lives and forges and was probably happier there than he'd ever been in his life before he destroyed it.

But it's about how much they had in common, and how great things could have been if only Annatar had meant any of his pretty lies (and maybe he did, just a little; maybe he wished he did, just a little; a Sauron who is at least tempted to Be Someone Other Than Sauron is my favorite flavor of this; a Sauron who destroys his own happiness, too in his pursuit of his dreams of power and does it anyway...) and how impossibly terrible everything was instead.

Doomed less by the narrative than by yourself: by looking at the blood that stains your own lineage and being forgiving of a maia who has blood and shadows in his own past as a result of wishing that you could ever forgive your family and yourself for their sins (because Celebrimbor might not have known that Annatar was Sauron, but he had to have figured out that something was wrong eventually; had to have made a conscious choice to ignore the warnings of Galadriel and Elrond, even if he didn't want to admit to himself quite how conscious; had to have sensed something off eventually, after so many years of working so closely together, and either decided to ignore it or to accept it because maybe everyone deserves a second chance, right? And what else is Ost-in-Edhil for...?).

Doomed by the knowledge of the horrors that resulted from your family's smith-craft in previous years, and your fear of what your own hands could make as a result; and being coaxed to step beyond the self-imposed limits that you set upon yourself because of that fear. By the fact that you finally, finally feel comfortable and safe enough here working with the Gwaith-i-Mírdain to take a risk in the forge and try something great...and the damnable results of that risk being taken alongside the worst person you could have possibly chosen to craft with, and knowing that you've doomed not just yourself but the world, too...

Knowing that in the end, you've done exactly the sort of damage that you once swore you would never do; that the only good thing left for you to do is to die without giving every last scrap of yourself away again; of having the precious knowledge of the Seven and the Nine dragged from your bleeding lips by the one who'd helped you walk the beautiful paths of their forging in the first place; to have spent so long waiting to show Annatar the glories you achieved with the Three while he was gone, and then realizing too late that their glory was just another form of doom and you could never, ever let him see.

To die at the hands of the lover who taught you to trust yourself again but who was himself lying all along... (But was he lying to you, or to himself?)

There's nothing good about silvergifting, but there could have been. In a kinder world, there would have been; should have been. And that's the appeal, I think: it's the tragedy that was always going to happen, but shouldn't have had to. They should have been able to heal one another from the scars of the First Age and the Years of the Tree; to use the combination of their great skills to heal the world from the damage that Sauron and his Master and the Oath of Fëanor did to Middle-earth; to make things better...

But they didn't. They didn't.

Instead all breaks to ruin and Celebrimbor dies broken in the dark, and love isn't enough to save him; love is only enough to damn him. To lift his shattered dreams like a banner before the Enemy and see his home and all his hopes burn to bitter ashes.

The Lord of Gifts and the Silver-handed Smith should have been able to create beautiful things between them; the most beautiful things seen since the Silmarils. But instead, all they wrought was destruction. Which is another, terrible form of beauty, in its own wretched way.

*Also see this previous post where I ramble deliriously about the joys and horrors of Celebrimbor/Annatar/Narvi.

[masterqwertster]

Not an existing AU I don’t think, but what do you think would’ve happened if Laudna hadn’t killed Bor’Dor?

That's perfectly fine, I'm open to penning some thoughts on new AUs, or just giving thoughts on an event or possibility 😊 So since you've specified Laudna not killing Bor'dor, I'll follow that the reveal encounter went as canon until that last Wither and Bloom.

Instead of draining the last bit of his lifeforce for herself, she backs off. She won't be Delilah, taking taking taking people's livelihood, their lives. She won't, she won't!

Orym steps forward and looks down at Bor'dor's unconscious form, a frown marring his brow and calculations running behind his eyes.

"We're at war," he says, stepping closer. "And I'm not losing any more of my people."

Seedling finds the weakly beating heart, stills it.

There's no satisfaction, no relief, in what he's done. But it was necessary.

Bor'dor made his choice. He chose to attack them, despite knowing he was outnumbered and outgunned. He chose to attack them when they heard his story with sympathy, when they had protected and supported him, shown him kindness and vulnerability. He chose to lash out at the whole world for the actions of one group of soldiers, to sentence the gods to death for not intervening. He chose to not give a fuck about the collateral damage of his actions, decided that innocents were a worthy sacrifice to the bottomless pit of his pain.

Maybe if Bor'dor hadn't attacked them, he could have lived. But all trust and safety was shattered in a splash of arcane acid that felled the true most innocent member of the group, Prism, who had absolutely nothing to do with why Bor'dor hated Bells Hells.

The only way to save a mad dog is to put it out of its misery, protecting all the people it would have hurt should it have continued living.

It's the worst part of being a guard, a soldier: to know that the enemy is a person just like you, but their choices mean you cannot allow them to live. Not if you're going to protect the things you swore you would.

Orym pulls the locket out of his pocket and looks at it for a moment.

Then he slides Seedling free and places the locket over the bloody little gap.

"We're at war," he repeats, then walks away to assess the decision he has made today.

So yeah. Even if Laudna hadn't made the kill, I have no doubt Orym or Ashton would have. Bor'dor chose to attack, and more than that, he chose to attack people who were completely uninvolved in the fight between Bells Hells and the Ruby Vanguard just to get at the members of Bells Hells that were present. The one he came closest to killing was Prism, the child, the one who was most innocent to the ways of the world because of her life in cloistered academia. The boys aren't strangers to death or killing, are perfectly willing to kill for the safety of their people (are hardened on the idea that at times they must kill for their people's safety), they have empathy for the people who are dismissed as collateral damage (they've been the collateral damage), and Bor'dor had just proved that he'd put a knife in them if given the opportunity regardless of the consequences or cost.

[scoonsalicious]

Okay, I finally got around to reading the new parts as well as the asks and your responses, and first off, I just want to say I'm proud of you. Like truly. It takes so much strength to be able to fight through what you just experienced. Dealing with trauma will always be an uphill battle and it's going to be a bumpy road to say the least. but you're strong and brave so I have no doubt you'll get through it 🤍 I'm so glad you were able to find writing as a way to process things. It really does help us more than we think. I'm so so sorry that it happened. Sending you all the warm hugs i could give from the other side of the world 🤍

Now, onto the story which, is very heavy as you've warned us before. I mean things aren't in detail but still. You can just feel it. Sam being out of the picture was just so so bad. Obviously, he needed to because that is his nephew. And I know A.J. would be okay but God...not having him there is just, bad news. And it happened at the worst time possible too.

When I saw that Chloe has been "chosen" my heart literally ached. And I could feel Pocket's guilt because, how couldn't she be? They were in the same room together. They literally spoke with each other. You can't just stop the "what-if's" going through your head because there are so many things she could've done but didn't, and so many things she did that she shouldn't have that change the whole course. That's the killer part. So many possible outcomes going true your head and the would've, could've, should've's. But, unfortunately, there's not much she could do. She made a choice during the moment, a temporary solution which, unfortunately, didn't have the best outcome in the long run.

At first, I was hopeful that Chloe was going to be fine and that they'd just somehow taken her somewhere to be experimented on with Hydra wanting to make a new serum or something. So the way my heart literally dropped when I read the first part of Chapter 25. I just...I don't even have the right words. It's just horrible. And then I read her age? Fifteen? I had to put my phone down and take a deep breath. I just feel so devasted. Now if I'm already feeling all that, imagine what Pocket must've been feeling? She's literally living through it and she feels like she had a hand in what happened. It wasn't her fault, not at all. She could only control so much of that situation. She's a strong ass woman but she can't fight against those guys while fighting her own demons at the same time. There really wasn't much she could've done. But God, it's going to haunt her for the rest of her life. But the sad part is, no matter what she does, there's not much she can do to change things. She's just going to have to learn to live with that guilt. I know you really don't like Steve, but the line he said to Wanda in Civil War: "This job... we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time... maybe nobody gets saved."

So her spiraling? It comes as no surprise. It's not healthy, but she's in too deep. She's just trying to find a way to numb everything and I can't blame her. Like, it's so easy for us to say oh just go through therapy, rehab etc. don't buy any drugs, don't to this, don't do that because were not the ones in it. But it's never that easy. I just...feel so sad and devasted by it all.

I know everyone's mad at Bucky and rightfully so. But, I am so so glad he's going to be back because yeah, Pocket hates him but at least we have someone who'd stop at nothing to protect her and make sure she's okay. You can't deny he cares about her and that he knows her well. So if there's ANYONE (besides Tony) who could at least snap her out of it for a moment, it would be him. I mean, nobody can pull Pocket out of her spiral apart from herself, but I think Bucky would be helpful in that at least. They're going to butt heads when they meet again but with Pocket's current situation and her mindset, I'm at least grateful that there's someone there to stop her from going even deeper into this hole. She's already off the rails, so I'm grateful that now she's going to have someone who's going to try his damnest to pull her back. Drag her (lovingly) if he has to.

Sigh. We're getting so close to the truth unfolding. I can't wait to see it all. Also saw a snippet of Chapter 26 and honestly, I really do see Bucky's growth (hence why I'm calling him by his name this time) and I can't wait to see more of it. As always, you're amazing. Be kind to yourself and don't forget to always take care of yourself. Lots of love!

— Jnon 🤍

Thank you, Jnon <3 I gladly accept and return your warm hugs from half a world away. They mean so much! Sometimes it's hard to see myself as anything other than broken and weak when I'm in the midst of my feelings, so I appreciate the reminder that healing from this kind of thing is a journey.

I really didn't want Sam to leave, but I needed Pocket to be at her absolute worst point, and alone. I felt like that was the only way she was going to be willing to accept Bucky back into her life. She doesn't want Tony to know what's happening-- she doesn't want to disappoint him, not when he had so much faith in her, so she's kept everything that's been going on from him.

AJ's gonna be alright. Poor kid is just a plot device for me, here. I feel bad, lol. He doesn't deserve it. In my head, he's being spoiled with ice cream and video games while he recovers, lol.

Pocket's gonna feel Chloe's loss for a long time, even beyond this fic, I'm sure. She set out to save girls like her, but instead, because of her selfishness and her perceived weakness, she got a girl killed. In her own mind, she's just as bad as everyone who hurt her growing up. Chloe was her, in a way, and Pocket failed her, and thus herself. Pocket's gonna mention later that it's like this cycle never ends. She could spend the rest of her life working to save women from a similar fate, but it will never be enough. But if she can help save even one woman, well, that's one woman who didn't have hope before. Pocket needed to be at her absolute lowest point so she could get her head out of her ass and fix herself so she can help others.

Funny thing about Pocket and Bucky-- she never hates him. She might think she does, but would actually make her life a lot easier if she really did. She loves him too much, almost.

[caffeineandsociety]

Some of the most unhinged and pointless discourse comes from the fact that people have a very difficult time reconciling the fact that

"Nearly if not outright every villain is the hero of their own story, they are human, they most likely genuinely believe they aren't doing anything truly unforgivably heinous in their own template of how the world works, they have internal justifications, and ANYONE can become the monster given the right circumstances and/or misinformation"

and

"Some people are just fucking assholes who you cannot 'just sit down and talk it out with', they are not poor innocent brainwashed masses but are human beings, with their own agency, who made choices that they aren't above experiencing the natural consequences of; there are behaviors and ideologies that cannot be tolerated AT ALL (see: the paradox of tolerance), and violence in self-defense or as a tool of revolution can be justified"

are both true.

People who recognize the former often see the latter as a call to violence against them, specifically, for even the slightest tiny moment of poor phrasing (and, hell, in certain people who only recognize the latter, it is - just look at the absolute unhinged state of the discourse on Twitter in the years since the worst of tumblr migrated there), and people who recognize the latter often see the former as a call to just hold hands and sing a happy song with the people who want them dead (and again, in certain people, it is).

But it goes deeper than that, because if you only recognize one and not the other, it shields you from self-examination. If you recognize that all people have internal justifications for their actions and ideology, acknowledging that sometimes the result of that very real internal logic cannot be tolerated sometimes even means having to wrestle with the fact that maybe, at some point in your life, someone WOULD have been, or WILL be, perfectly justified in punching you in the face - not because you had/have/will adopt a wrong opinion on a children's cartoon, but because you are not and never have been immune to getting suckered into being on the wrong side of an actual life-or-death issue, because you are human.

And if you only recognize the latter, you then have to fight with your own sense of empathy (or whatever facsimile you may have) when it comes to fighting in order to confront the former - dehumanization of the enemy is a wartime psych trick as old as war itself, designed to overcome the fact that it's really hard to kill someone - even to save your own life, your best friend's life, the lives of your entire platoon - if you recognize them as having just as real and rich of an inner life as you have. Recognizing that all assholes - no matter how intense the assholery, even when "asshole" becomes a dramatic understatement - are probably the heroes of their own stories, means reckoning with the fact that...it's possible you have hurt people with your "self defense". In fact, it's possible that you've hurt people more than was justified.

It's possible, even - if even the worst person has just as robust of an inner system of self-justification as you do - that you might share some ideas with them. It's possible that you are not as enlightened as you think you are. It's possible that there have been moments when you were the bad guy. When you were the oppressor. It's possible that this happened as recently as 5 minutes ago.

But these facts are both true, no matter how painful ripping off that band-aid is.

[weekendchips]

"Good morning, mystery.

Your greeting is rather bizarre. You criss-cross, swerve, and veer, unpredictable in the paths you choose to take,

Untelling in the choices you make.

Not yielding whence or whereforth you'll take,

Not revealing, hinting, alluding, or leaving any trace.

"Instead of returning the greeting,

You saunter in, leaving barely a toeprint.

Your shoe leaves evidence with a powdery mist, untraceable by even the most apt scientist.

But surely, you stepped in and made your presence known. There is no mistaking the mark you've left behind.

A fleeting feeling, visual remnants, sometimes made into full-fledged art forms. Colours, faces, voices, laughter, expressions, exchanges. Sometimes, even words. Gestures. Subtleties."

The filling and refilling of a glass of beer. Or two. Vestibules of differing heights, different measures.

A sniff of the past and the nostalgia seeps in: tears, questions, what-if's. Why?'s Leading to further queries and ponderings of significance and fate. Reflection of the late night phone calls, what they meant (if anything). Knowing, that you once shared a piece of yourself with this person and they made you feel safe, and whether they knew it or not, you weren't good enough for them. Or they were too good for you. Whether it was the truth or not, it's what you believed, and in your egocentric youth, knew that the only possibility was that they, too, believed things the same way as you.

Maybe that's a fault I've been blessed with from my family line

Maybe it's not a fault whatsoever

Maybe it's a way of coping,

Of not getting too attached. Knowing, inherently, in my very genes, that letting someone in leads to hurt, devastation, an end to living in the only way you know it exists

I sit here coughing, wondering, contemplating my very existence. Daily, skeptical of why or if I [should] exist.

The darker days behind me for now, but knowing they can come back like an unwelcome house guest at any given moment. Knowing, the slightest of triggers may shake this unstable foundation and once again pull me down to my roots, barely holding their footing in the loose soil

I know I can find my way back up to sunlight. I can see the sky, the clouds.

Today it's not blocked or obscured by grey, rain, misery.

It is bright.

It is warm.

I feel life. I might just continue to survive.

I torture myself each second my guard is down (sometimes, I feel the sunny days are the worst for that - that false sense of security lending to a false sense of okayness, an even keel). It's at the least suspecting moments I pounce, picking away at some deep wound, still tender under years of scar tissue and what I thought was called healing.

Yet, I still poke. And I still react. And I'm still human, expecting for some miraculous change, expecting that maybe I will lose touch with my limbic system, and that For Once and For All, my sensitivities will deplete. That I will face the world without feeling every inch of every thing like it is digging under several layers of skin. That my egocentrism will fade away and I won't assume everyone is talking about me when they speak in hushed voices (or are they really just out of earshot and they'renotactuallytalkingaboutmebutimnotactuallysureandsothe a n x i e t y c r e e p s b a c k in.)

And take a deep breath because you've forgotten to breathe yet again. Your head is filling with blood and your brain is on a tangent while your body's oxygen supply is depleted. Your poor body.

Which is the subject of another post.

Moral of the story: Be aware of your internal mono/dia/omni-logue. It really shapes your emotional weather.

This post started as a couple of words about dreams. Man, that escalated quickly. Feels good, though.

It causes me pain to type. My fingers no longer respond to my brain the way they used to. Maybe it's my phone. I don't know.

I know auto-correct has made me lazier than pie, chillin' on a cooling rack. Shiet.

Good night.

[cryptke]

just finished the book after like maybe 2-ish hours of sleep and two coffee, and I'm not disappointed. That's a great way to end a book, sorta like a full circle, with her visiting some places he's been to, and eventually returning to that diner. Genuinely amazing book, made me think a lot about what the *fuck* life actually is lol. I actually kind of enjoyed the nihilism aspect of the book, mostly because I haven't seen it very often in modern books, especially not executed well in a way that doesn't throw you right into the next depressive episode lol

I'm moving to Australia cuz i like really gotta get away from my family and this town, and I think *I* will commit serial mass murder if I don't put at least half the Pacific Ocean (or Atlantic, i think it's the atlantic) between me and them. Originally wanted to go to uni there, considered astrophysics, marine biology & egyptology, realized I have zero idea what to actually do with my life, so I'll be moving around a bit, probably a la circa supernatural (supplement the monsters with spiders), and see if something comes out of it, if a sudden life plan magically manifests before me. Visa only lasts for so long, so that'll be a ride ig..

the beaches in the far north of Queensland are literal fucking heaven, mangoes and coconuts on end - there's this old lady that always cuts the mangoes down and attracts all the cassowaries, which is an absolute pain in the ass because they mean as piss - but like feel free to drop in? motel room/apartment will always be open for you lol

absolutely stoked you actually liked my daryl request, and super glad you're out of the depression slump at the moment - and hopefully for a while longer. Even better that you've got a love interest on the line, definitely hope all works out well in that matter. Apartment hunting is literal hell, though it is fun, so i hope u can snatch a decent one. I once went hunting on Craigslist, did *not* go well, mistakes have been made.

you just threw me back like a bunch of years when i was thirteen and tried to craft my own fake id (with pic n all), to buy the worst possible brand of beer the local grocery store had stocked - it went horribly wrong, and that absolute cunt of a manager called the police to "teach" me a lesson. Thank fuck I'm more creative now.

and *please* share that rec for the other book you mentioned? in desperate need for some nicely dark, gory literature to sink my teeth in.

😭😭

the end of fucking Blackbird cracked something wide open in my brain. the scene where she's standing at the crossroads, i think it was, and she sees the street names............

i have respect for people who can root up their lives and transport themselves to a new continent entirely. it's like you're in a subgroup that managed to unlock the other 90% of their brain power

this new book is called Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, and you can get the pdf for free online if you just google "tender is the flesh read online free." essentially, at its core the premise is that in some nearby future setting, all flesh derived from animals has become deadly to humankind because of a mysterious virus strain making their meat totally inedible. so relying on their produce as we do now would have society facing mass extinction. basically, the world has no choice but to institutionalize and "normalize" human cannibalism as a last ditch hope. and BABY, THEY DO.

it is so incredibly fucked up because the story is not even an interpretation of cannibalism itself. that's not what's supposed to GETCHA. essentially, they start literally breeding human beings to create a sort of secondary species to solely rely on for meat harvesting. it introduces people living (with the mental capacity of domesticated animals) as slaughterhouse cows do. so you're exposed to a sort of conscious separation of people and then humans who are not people and will never be viewed as such. they're meat. the main character is a nihilistic, depressed butcher who's profession is to quite literally slaughter "the meat."

i think what makes it so intense is the fact that it's not a barbaric story where the cannibalism itself is meant to be the big shock affect. it's set years after the initial "transition" to this lifestyle the world has been forced into, and it paints a picture of this sterile dehumanization of society with the presence of specific laws regarding human breeding/a sense of normalcy and acceptance based around the whole thing, etc. really showcases how easily our morals can be stripped from us. a slow, lethargic horror with graphic social commentary.

book contains some HARD ass quotes though. weirdly philosophical.

“He tried to hate all of humanity for being so fragile and ephemeral, but he couldn't keep it up because hating everyone is the same as hating no one.”

"How many heart need to be stored in boxes for the pain to be transformed into something else? But the pain, he intuits, is the only think that keeps him breathing. Without the sadness, he has nothing left."

[booksandlewks]

Intensity in Insmire | A Jurdan AU

Happy Holidays to my wonderful knife wife @starborn-faerie-queen!! I’m so lucky to have you as my friend and now snusband (we’re def married now) <3 I was so excited to see that I got to try and write something for you. I also have to thank everybody in the @jurdannet discord for helping me with my writer’s anxiety throughout, and @jurdannetrevels for hosting this secret santa event! 

So this was a prompt you didn’t ask for, but that I hope you will like. I thought of this right when I saw your name and have had a blast making it a reality. One of our first conversations in the discord was about none other than Lauren Layne, so I thought I’d give it my best go at making it Jurdan. I picked what I think of as the iconic scene in Passion on Park Avenue because Jude and Cardan literally define passion. You also put Nicaryn, so in my head when I wrote this they’re already dating and Jude just hasn’t noticed. 

"Be careful, you're going to drop that!" Jude said watching her twin throw down yet another box full of her merchandise.

 It was times like these that Jude wondered about her choice in friends. Not that she had so many choices in friends to begin with, something about her being "abrasive". People may not always appreciate her edges, but that edge is what landed her on the 30 under 30 list. She was grateful, if not confused, about her new-found friendships. While the ladies made for excellent company, and fellow schemers in action, a moving company they were not. Not that Jude would say a word against their help out loud. She was still so grateful to have her twin back in her life.

Jude would thank Locke for bringing them together, if she'd thought it was even remotely a part of his plan. Maybe she could thank him for dying, so that they could find each other in the park that fateful day. Not likely, she had better people to think on.

Nicasia kicked a box into the corner with the toe of her Louboutin heels, "You worry too much, they're not going to break because I didn't gingerly place every single one of your hundreds of boxes down."

"I'm not worried about you breaking an accessory," Jude said huffing as she moved to open the box Nicasia had kicked to prove a point. She held up the lipstick tube, twisting to expose the blade to prove her point. "I'm worried about one of my accessories breaking you."

"Oh, I like that," Taryn laughed, her eyes widening, "Can I borrow that for my next date?"

"Well, it is just a sample," Jude nodded her head to the truck parked outside her new building, "You can keep it if you help me unload the rest of the truck." 

"You drive a tough bargain, a days labor in exchange for one accessory?" Nicasia teased.

Jude put one hand to her heart and the other to her forehead dramatically, "Oh you're truly suffering going up and down the elevator while carrying small boxes."

"These boots were not exactly made for walking Jude," Nicasia said flicking her hair over her shoulder, and punctuating it with an all too casual check of her nails. Why she wouldn't just concede to putting her hair up was beyond frustrating to Jude. She wasn't sure if she hated or respected Nicasia's commitment to always looking perfect.

 "I mean I didn't get to where I was by giving things away for free, but I may have also ordered us pizza and tiramisu from the Italian place on Lexington Ave."

 "Ahh I knew you were my favorite twin!" Taryn said wrapping her arms around Jude and kissing her cheek with an exaggerated smack.

 "I'm your only twin, and you definitely did not know it."

 "The real question isn't why I can't move things in these heels, it's why you think I should be doing this in the first place," Nicasia said glancing speculatively.

 "Wait, yeah, aren't you meant to be rich now Jude?"

"Well, according to my accountant, approximately I am," Jude tilted her head and pretended to tally with her free hand, "filthy rich." She moved the box that had been hoisted on her hip onto the floor of what would be the main living area.

Jude wasn't insane, the larger items like the couch and industrial garment racks would be delivered by a moving company later. She just knew that she could handle the smaller boxes herself. She'd always survived by being self-sufficient, so she wasn't going to start changing what was working now. She'd moved herself into her first shoe box apartment, all her belongings compact and loaded into the back of her ancient little two door.

 "Then why on earth are we moving all of this by hand?" Taryn said turning to her sister, exasperated to see the determination gracing her twin's face. She hated that look, especially when it was on the face that was practically her own under all that stubbornness. "Nic, I need backup here, we're entering dangerously uncharted areas in stupidity. "

 "Jude, love, remember when we agreed to stop each other from entering another toxic relationship?" Nicasia said gently, her hands up as if coaxing a small animal.

 "No, I've blocked out the entirety of Locke's funeral out of a sense of self-preservation," she said voice and face purposefully blank.

 "Why stop there, why not erase him from your entire mind?" Taryn said a bitter edge to her words.  

 Jude laughed, "Me and my therapist are hard at work doing just that."

 "Well while you're working on that, have her work on the toxic relationship you've got with your stupid pride," Nicasia said checking her already perfect nails.

 "Wait, was all of that just the set up for the punchline to your dumb joke?"

 "Woah Tar, harsh words from the woman who asked for my backup in the first place." Nicasia pursed her lips clearly displeased that Taryn had not enjoyed her attempts at humor. "Maybe you should try being nicer to me considering that I have the power to save you from Jude's torture."

 Jude laughed as Taryn started to pester Nicasia to tell her what she meant. While they'd all become fast friends on the fateful day of the funeral, Jude couldn't help but feel that Nicasia and her twin had gotten closer over the summer. She supposed it had to do with the fact that they both had to worry about their reputations and what the fallout from Locke's infidelity would do to it.

That old wound started niggling at Jude again. She may not have been in an official New York society relationship with the man, but she'd had to mourn the loss too. She supposed it hadn't affected her societal standing, being Locke's dirty secret, but she hadn't gotten out unscathed. The bastard had known about her fears. She'd confided in him, about her mother's cheating and how she'd grown up not wanting to get attached for fear of ending up in a similarly messed up situation.

 He'd comforted her, talking about how cheating on somebody wasn't in her character. He'd spelled out what their story could be instead, spinning a story of comfort, safety in his arms, and safety in that future. It made Jude's skin crawl to think about now. How he could say all of this while cheating on her with Nicasia and Taryn, and using her to cheat on them. Some nights it actually made her physically ill. She was such a careful woman, and yet she'd never suspected.

 She wondered if lying to her was part of the game to him, it had to be. Jude thought about how she'd considered bridging the gap and calling Taryn to tell her that she'd met somebody. She'd been too scared to reopen that wound. At eighteen Jude walked away from the stifling role of being Madoc's daughter. She hadn't thought about what leaving Taryn behind to deal Madoc's only other eligible daughter would do. She left her behind for him to put all of his stupid high society rules and dreams into. She'd wondered about her twin over the years, but could never pick up the phone and just dial. What would things be like if she had? Thinking about it wouldn't change anything.

 During Jude's musings Taryn had moved into Nicasia's lap and was switching between pleading and apologizing. Her groveling was so over the top that a warm spot bloomed in Jude's chest while watching her. She had no idea how much she'd missed Taryn, and yet having her take up space in her apartment just felt right.

 "Okay, okay, fine!" Nicasia said standing up and taking Taryn with her. "I happen to have a friend through the New York royalty network, as you call it, and he lives in this very apartment complex."

 "Oh thank god, I love you Judie Bee Jones, but this is the worst."

 "Woah no, I never agreed to having anybody over," Jude said walking over to lock her door, "and wasn't the point of having you ladies around to avoid the assholes."

 "How can you call them an asshole when you don’t even know who it is?" Nicasia asked unlocking the door. Jude went to stop her, but Taryn simply took her face in her hands and pointed it towards the window where the open moving truck stood idle.

 "I promise he's good people, we grew up together," Nicasia said clearly forgetting that her and Jude had not exactly grown up as friends.

Jude did not have much of a chance to consider who might be coming to the rescue she did not need, as there was a knocking at the door.

The warmth she felt from being with her friends left her the second she opened the door and saw Cardan Greenbriar standing there. She'd never seen Cardan look anything less than impeccable, so she was even more furious to see him standing there looking like a Saks Fifth Avenue model from the catalog to help her move. A cable knit sweater, really, to move boxes. With an overcoat no less. No, no, this couldn't possibly be happening. Jude would rather move every single box one by one, than have Cardan Greenbriar help her.

What on earth could have even possessed him to try. She thought she'd made it clear when she'd damn near bitten his head off in her "entry interview" to the apartment complex. It wasn't her fault. Cardan had a particular way of getting under her skin, and the fact that he'd known her from her twin and had not even bothered to look at the application resting in his hand the entire interview had gotten her blood boiling. She'd never actually wanted to live in Elfhame.

The stupid application had been filled out for her and sent in by her mother ages ago. Eva Duarte had been so proud of Jude's success, it had never occurred to her that her mother had plans to use it as a statement. She'd miss her mother's mean streak, and wished she'd been around longer so Jude could understand this plan. Jude had been shocked to be called in for the interview to move into The Palace, and caught completely off guard to see Cardan on the day of the interview.  

 She must've released an actual snarl at seeing him darkening her new doorstep because Taryn and Nicasia pried her away from the door and invited him to come in. This was ridiculous ; she was not a rabid dog to be put in the corner. Although, she was considering biting Cardan.

 "And hello to you too Jude," Cardan said laughing as she struggled to break free of the grip of her friends, "Lovely as ever to see you."

"Why am I seeing you?" 

Cardan raised an eyebrow at that, "Not a very friendly greeting neighbor."

"I read over the paperwork your father sent over and it said that the building takes care of pests in the apartments."

 "Ha ha, very funny Jude," Cardan said stalking closer, "I do hope that's true, as I'd love to see them take you out of here."

 "Really, we're going to resort to I know you are but what am I?" Jude intoned, "On day one?"

 “Is this really our first day together, Judiebeet?"

 "Don't call me that!"

 "As much as I do love seeing you upset my sweet villain," he said trailing a finger over her cheeks, "I didn't come to pick a fight." Jude knew her cheeks had to be bright red, she always got flushed when she was mad. She hated that he had command over her, more than she appeared to have over her own body. Which only made her more upset when he called her that stupid name.

"Why did you come, I had demon summoning scheduled for later in the day," Jude said ignoring the looks Nicasia and Taryn were shooting her.

 "I was informed of a damsel in distress, and princely duties demanded that I come to your aid."

"Oh no, that's it," Jude turned on her friends glaring, and pointing at the door while practically shoving Cardan out, "Everybody out, I'll move them all myself."

 "Wait, but I brought champagne," Cardan said materializing a bottle from the inside of his coat. 

"Jude you can't kick the man out, he brought Dom," Taryn said pulling Cardan back into the apartment by his arm. Jude watched as he re-entered what was meant to be her space, unwilling to fight with Taryn.

"Fine, but if he's here he works," Jude said looking at Cardan as if to say 'unless you've got a problem with that.' The Cardan she knew would never deign to do a day's labor on his own. Always calling somebody his father employed to do things for him instead. So Jude was shocked when all he did was set the actually quite nice bottle on the counter, and gesture his hand towards the door with a look that said 'after you'.

Jude was not sure if she was pleased or pissed off when Cardan actually matched her for work ethic for the rest of moving. He eventually took off the coat, and the sweater, tossing them on the counter with his welcome gift. Jude wished he had not, as she'd been determined to carry more than him before that. She would have managed it too, if he had not rolled up his white dress shirt to the direct center of his forearm. Where it hugged just below his elbow as he worked.

She dropped one of her merchandise boxes when his arm brushed hers while reaching for another, shocked by the contact of his skin hot against her own. Furious with herself for the look that graced his face when she cursed and picked up the box, she decided to be less ambitious with how much she carried.

They had not actually had all that many boxes left. Which made it all the more traitorous that Nicasia had called in for help. As the work dwindled Nicasia and Taryn gave up the pretense of pretending to want to help move the boxes, and sat on the benches that were near the building's entrance. They sat close talking and laughing quietly at each others jokes. Jude could be funny too, but her humor was more dry and wicked. Just as Jude was sprinting to get the very last box, the pizza delivery driver had pulled up to the curb. 

Taryn had gone from commiserating with Nicasia, to giving Jude puppy eyes in 10 seconds flat. Jude laughed softly as she went to go pay the man. Her path was blocked by Cardan who'd made a beeline for the car as it pulled in, while she'd been distracted. If she hadn't been so focused on his damn arms she might have missed how he went to get his wallet from his back pocket. Hell no.

Jude stood one shot at having Taryn and Nicasia not mention her attitude since Cardan walked in, and that was to buy their silence. Nothing says be on my side like hot pizza and good dessert. Which is why she was going to pay for it. Cardan was already handing the man a crisp bill when Jude went to shift the box she'd been holding to under one arm. God, she hated him so much. She'd already missed out on getting to bond with her friends over how annoying moving was because of him, and now he was going to ruin their meal too?

He'd already ruined Jude's childhood, but she was an adult now, and he would not even get a single day from her. She grabbed the boxes of her food and walked to the elevator clicking the button for her floor and slamming on the door close button before he could follow. She walked into her apartment, and she would've locked Cardan out if it not for the fact she had to wait on Taryn and Nicasia to follow. If she had to face him again today, it was going to be on her terms and her rules.

 Jude moved to the boxes now all neatly lined up in what would be her living room. She scanned the barcode stickers on the top of the boxes, each item had been carefully cataloged so that she could be sure that she didn't lose anything important in the move. Downsides to owning and running a successful companies that sold accessories with a dangerous edge? There was so much inventory to keep track of.

 She found what she was looking for and swapped her sneakers for stilettos. She'd love to see Cardan try to look down on her when they were eye level. She'd give a new meaning to the term glaring daggers. She was perfectly capable of paying for a damn pizza.

The door of her apartment opened and Cardan strolled in, his arm around each of her friends. Jude let out a breath that his shirt had been set back to normal, although she was not sure if she was relieved.

 "Really, my own twin?" she said putting a hand on her hip and looking at Taryn who moved, hands up, to sit on the counter top.

"Jude, he got us pizza, please be reasonable," Taryn said in a placatory tone.

 "I got you pizza, this interloper just stole it because pizza is joy, and he can't let me have it."

"You need to stop, you're hangry and turning into rude Jude," Nicasia teased using the family nickname she knew Jude hated. That was just low, she'd revealed that in a 2 A.M. group chat. Which every woman knows means it’s classified information.

 She was being rude, she knew, but well...frankly he started it. Years ago, but she was a petty elephant and would not forget.

 "Fine, have a slice of pizza and then get the fuck out."

When Nicasia and Taryn turned their looks at her, Jude just blinked her eyes slowly a few times. She had never claimed to be a saint. 

"Can I at least get a drink before you kick me out on my ass?" Cardan asked the corner of his mouth upturned.

"Nope, sorry," Jude started and feeling her friends angry stares added, "I just moved in, and I haven't stocked the fridge yet."

"Well, then it's lucky for us my friend was kind enough to drop in to christen the home with champagne," Nicasia said as she made remove the muselet. Jude watched her carefully grip the wire as she twisted it off with effortless ease, and admired her friends grace. Jude would've likely embarrassed herself biting at it. She'd been served champagne at events, but it always came in a glass if she was honest.

 With the sound of the popping cork her control of the apartment got further away from her. She watched as the three of them opened cupboards and looked at an empty counter top as if expecting glassware to simply appear. Jude knew she could easily scan the boxes and find her glassware, but business had taught her to spot an opportunity.  

 "Oh darn, it seems like we can't get you that drink after all."

 "Yes, you seem very forlorn about it," Cardan said shaking his head at her, amusement in those dark eyes. 

Jude gave him a mock apologetic shrug of her shoulders, lips pulled to one side of her mouth. The amusement in his eyes turned to challenge. Unbeknownst to Jude, Cardan's newest hobby was complicated jigsaw puzzles. He had needed something to do while being able to keep an eye on his father, and he found that once he started he just couldn't resist figuring out how the pieces fit together. She'd just presented him with his newest game, and he was going to figure out her pieces.

"Don't worry my darling, like I said we're neighbors now," smiling when Jude scowled at the pet name, "I can just head to my place, and get us some glasses."

It was clear that he'd gotten under Jude's skin when she stalked towards Nicasia and took the bottle from her, and into her own hands. Nicasia just looked at Taryn, and whatever that look meant Taryn must have understood. She moved to the edge of the counter top and invited Nicasia into the circle of her legs, resting her chin on her the top of the other woman’s head.

"How very unfortunate for high-born little princes like you, that you can only sip champagne from the finest of glasses."

She looked right into his eyes as she began glugging the expensive bubbly from the bottle and drinking it like watered down beer. She raised an eyebrow at him as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I do hope I haven't offended you Cardan," she said snarling out his name as if it was foul, "I'd hate to scare you off from ever visiting again."

"Not at all, I'm quite charmed by your lovely manners," he said walking over to where she stood by Nicasia. "Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes," he said taking the bottle from Jude's firm grip and drinking directly while their gazes stayed locked in a battle of wills.

 "Nic, you feel like we're interrupting something here?" Taryn said from where she sat inches away. It shocked Jude out of her stupor, and her sister hopped off the counter as Jude made to reach for her. She was suddenly stricken, it was all fine and well to hurt Cardan, but she wouldn't lose Taryn again. Not when she just got her back.

"Ugh I thought you'd never ask, this is all too straight for me," Nicasia said taking Taryn's hand and making for the door.

"Wait guys, don't go--"

 "Nope, text us when you're ready to act like a person again," Nicasia said laughing as the door shut behind their quickly retreating figures.  

 "Way to go, you scared them off with your stupid smoldering thing."

 "Jude, I think you'll find I'm not the one in the wrong here, although I am delighted to hear you think I smolder," Cardan said backing away from her.

"I meant that stupid staring," she started but trailed off when she noted his smug face.

 "Jude, all I've done today is bring you a housewarming gift and offer help at my friends request."

Jude opened her mouth to protest about the pizza slight, but stopped as she'd realized she'd just dig herself into a deeper hole. All he'd really done was cover her food for her and her friends. Was it possible that her childhood tormentor really had come here without the intent of torturing her. She'd been too caught up in trying to catch his next move, that it hadn't occurred to her. He’d clearly taken her silence to mean something else, because he went to gather his coat and sweater.

"Look, it's clear you don't want me here and I'm not actually trying to hold you hostage in your own apartment."

Jude's pride stopped her from correcting him. She'd been working so hard to get him to leave, that she couldn't exactly walk back her position now. She wanted to though, she wanted to grab him by those rather toned arms and hold him in place. To explain herself or make him explain himself, she wasn't sure. Instead she nodded her agreement, and silently watched him leave. She watched as he walked down the hall, opening and then closing his door. Only then did she finally unfreeze from her doorway and shut her own door.

She sat for about 30 minutes just trying to process all that had just happened. She was not sure when she'd become the villain in this story, but she didn't enjoy the feeling. He was the bully, not her. If his actions today were to be trusted, maybe not even him any longer. Jude stood up suddenly confident in her movements as she scanned the boxes searching for her glasses. She hadn't actually moved everything today, so all she was able to find was some coffee mugs. She looked down at her "I Rule" coffee cup, it'd have to do.

Jude went to where the remains of the bottle was left on the counter, and poured it into the cup. She wouldn't apologize, as she was not truly sorry. Even if he was not the menace he used to be, one day of rudeness was the least of what he'd deserved. She did however write what she'd call her concession. She'd apologized for the coffee mug. The note told him that while her fine Waterford Crystals were still in storage, it should taste just as good coming out of a mug. Jude left the note under the cup, and knocked on his door before leaving.

[kevindayscrown]

Why Kevin Day is the most in-depth character in the All For the Game series

An essay by a Kevin stan, so you know it's at least 70% biased

Hello, hello everyone, welcome to another session of me, brainwashing you about the amazingness of Kevin Day. In this short essay, I'll discuss how our number Queen asshole striker is, in fact, not just a whiney bitch, but one of the most key characters in the AFTG series. I'll also discuss how Nora pretty much did him dirty and how much I appreciate the fandom for doing him better.

I've decided that it will be much easier to take things chronologically, so I can delve deeper into what makes Kevin the character whose stans won't shut up about.

Unlike the rest of the characters in the series, Kevin started off in a somewhat stable family condition. He was brought up by his mother, Kayleigh, but still probably had to live with the title 'Son of Exy' from the moment he was born. We've all witnessed what being on the spotlight from a young age has done to child stars. Kevin, upon growing up, would start feeling the burden of a whole legacy created by his mother. Because Exy, despite being a bastard sport, has a large fanbase around the US, and possibly further - since it's mentioned that it's also an Olympic sport.

It wouldn't be a surprise that Kevin more than likely looked up to his mother and wanted to play Exy for her. Suddenly though, Keyleigh died in a car accident (if it was even a car accident; knowing the Moriyamas, it could had been done on purpose) and left Kevin in the care of Tetsuji Moriyama, the head of one of the yakuza's branches, and his now adoptive brother Riko.

Let's be honest, both of them were just kids. They only had each other, so it was really easy to get attached. Kevin has lost his mother at this point and Tetsuji is not exactly a proper father figure, so Kevin had to cling on Riko. Despite us seeing him in the main timeline being an asshole who snaps at everyone, his willingness to submit into the position of 'number 2' even if he's better than Riko, shows how much he depends emotionally on people. Riko and Kevin had to meet certain expectations, had fans from a very young age, and Neil even mentions that he literally witnessed Kevin grow up from media outlets and coverages. Kevin had to stick close to the only other person who's going through the same thing.

As a result, it was easy for Kevin to focus on what he's taught to believe; he should aim for the stars, he should be good, great, but never the best. Because Riko is the best. Kevin accepts that.

I hate how people call him a spineless coward just because someone mentions it once in the book. Kevin isn't like Neil. Neil was given a chance to escape. Kevin could never escape Evermore. Even if he did consider it his home, he was still abused on a daily basis. Riko mentions in Raven King, when he's about to torture Neil, that Neil is basically in the same position as Kevin once had been:

People forget that, Kevin probably had to live through what Neil did ever since Riko turned into his fucked up self. Which literally means years of physical and mental abuse, with no hope of escape but the bright future he had ahead of him. So what did Kevin do? He focused on playing.

Stop making Kevin all about being an Exy freak or an alcoholic. Kevin was so obsessed with Exy because it's the only thing he has ever known. He probably couldn't even drink before he escaped Evermore.

Imagine being torn between loving and clinging on the boy you once called brother because it's the only family you've known, and being hurt by him, again and again at a later age, having him shatter all you think you are good at. Riko didn't just break Kevin's hand. He almost took away from him all he thought he had left, and possibly the only way Kevin had of feeling close to his mother.

Kevin loses all he's ever known, and he blames himself for it at first because he thinks it's his fault that he even dared to show he could be better than Riko. He's in pieces and the only thing he does is to cling yet on another person. Aka Andrew. And somehow like this, we come back to the point about Kevin not only being far from an emotionless asshole, but actually being the most emotionally attached character in the series.

Entering the timeline of the books, Kevin appears as the epitome of a narcissistic asshole. It's fair for someone (as a reader) to not like him at first, when we don't know all that much about him. But as the story unravels, a clear distinction is made:

Kevin is not a narcissist. He's egocentric.

Kevin knows and truly believes he's the center of attention. Because, admittedly, he is. The books could had easily had Kevin as the protagonist. Like mentioned before, being raised on the spotlight, has had a tremendous impact on how he sees himself. He's obsessed with what image he's presenting to the public. I don't think he said 'being heterosexual is easier' without a reason. Kevin has led a life full of suppression. He can flash a 'press smile' for the cameras, he can snap and be cold at the Foxes, when in reality, he's suffering from severe PTSD, with panic attacks that he's handling in the worst way possible:

Alcohol. Why? Because the Foxes are all assholes and hypocrites. Don't get me wrong, I love them. But the fact that they just ignored Kevin everytime he had a panic attack and simply thrusted a bottle of vodka his way and called it a day? Inexcusable. Kevin needed a lot more than that.

Oh jeez, I wonder why he didn't tell Wymack he was his father all along.

If I see another person saying that Kevin was an ass for not telling Wymack straight up, I might slap a bitch. Do you think that Kevin would have been able to handle another rejection, another loss of a parental figure? All he did, was in self defense. Yes, it was selfish, but it was probably the only time in his life he could really make a choice on his own.

But you know what? Kevin overcame all this. Maybe and most probably not completely, he will never be able to wash away some stains, but he became more confident and emotionally independent. He detached himself both from Riko and from Andrew, and became the best striker in the history of Exy.

One of the reasons why I love Neil and Kevin - especially Kevin - is because their healing journeys are more fleshed out than Andrew's. But in this case, Kevin's was not really given the attention it deserved, it happened on the side lines and he had to do it alone. Neil had the foxes, had Wymack and Andrew. Kevin had no one, because the foxes, despite being assholes themselves, kept dismissing him and his problems. I really do believe that, in the first drafts when Kandreil was canon, Nora had potentially explored his character more. I wish we had gotten that instead of this sloppy attempt to squeeze in his ark along with Neil's.

I'll end this with some highlights that also showcase how badass Kevin is. He's a mess, but he does grow some spine when he finally becomes his own person:

Oof, if you actually read through this, thank you for tolerating my probably incoherent thoughts. I actually barely scratched the surface of my thoughts on Kevin's character but for now, this will do.

[g-lbertblythe]

Television Heaven // Rafe Cameron

Summary: As the each day passes, you fall for Rafe Cameron solemnly and irretrievably.

A/N: This song made me think of Rafe. Actually, I was thinking of Rafe then I started to listen to this one. Anyway, I was planning on something different but it got out of control. So it has really nothing to do with the song. Hope you enjoy anyway.

It might contain grammar and spelling mistakes cuz it's not my native language.

Every move you made, you made after long considerations, with caution. You questioned every little detail, calculating every probable outcome so strictly, sometimes you end up missing the chance to carry it into action. Just because you didn't want to find yourself in a situation that would make you embarrass and hurt yourself or just would make you feel something, you always choose the right and short way to do things. The logical one but the one no flowers grow. You held yourself back when you encountered with something so beautiful that may change your life, you just refused it, ignored it because you wouldn't know what to do with it. You ran away from anything in sight that may make you an idiot for doing it or make you weak, helpless; therefore you stayed away from anything unsolvable, complicated even. You didn't know everytime you ran away, you come closer the edge of falling apart. You've lived your life so guardedly, you've actually never lived. You come to understand that you never made any effect on your life, never pushed the buttons of the controlling panel of your life although you always tried to keep everything on your control. You didn't make things happened, things only happened to you. The day you became aware of this ugly truth, you also discovered a hole inside you. A hole which you use to suffocate any heavy, intense sensation you might feel. Now, it was the one taking control of you.

Lately, everyone around you was able to notice that something's wrong with you. Changed, you looked like you were fading away. You were disappearing more and more, the each day you realize the things you didn't do or things you wanted to say but never said. Because any time you don't say what you wanna say, you die a little. And you died very. Reminiscing the moments you stole from yourself pushed you an edge and you were standing the very edge, unsteady. One day you lose your balance, you start falling and you've been falling since.

The strong liquor on your lips never dried, you kept sipping one after another. You were never drunk on life before, you might actually get drunk at least. You were tired of filling your glass constantly, you left the glass on Camerons' table and head for the bottle.

"Are you okay?" Kiara asks hesitantly. She noticed something was off recently but she didn't think it will last this long. Normally nothing would affect you so long. But now, something in your eyes was missing and she didn't know what was it. She wanted to help you but didn't know how because you never needed any help before.

"Yeah, " you smiled to her slightly so she could see you can still do it and it was okay. The problem was your lips and your eyes didn't match. "You?"

She just nodded as an answer but the suspicions she had was still there. She didn't want you to be alone so when you refused to hang out at the beach with the rest of the gang, she came with you to the kitchen. But you knew, she wanted to be out there so you should gett her off the hook.

"Hey, " you said to draw her attention. "Let's head outside. I am bored here sitting."

"You sure?" She asked. "You wanted to come inside?"

You smiled, forcibly, lately every smile you gave was like that. "Yes. It turned out to be a bad idea. "

"Okay, " she said when she got up, you had to also. She was ready to walk away before you stopped her. "I'm going to hit the bathroom first. You go. "

She looked at you unsurely. "I'll wait."

You laughed, you were a little lightheaded from standing up swiftly but you didn't drink enough to get drunk yet. But she thought you were. You wished you were too. "I can pee just okay without you waiting, Kie. Tell them I'm coming and determined to drink whatever out there."

Eventually, she ended up leaving you and as soon as she was gone, you let yourself fall on the sofa again. You just needed few minutes before you head outside.

The Pogues have started becoming the huge part of your life not so long ago. You think the awareness hit you just after you met them because they were the most animated people you've met. They were full of spirit although some of their lives weren't always bed of roses, still they managed the find attraction and beauty in other things. You admired them before, now you envied.

The cold hit you as soon as you stepped outside but you liked feeling the breeze on your bare arms. The cold was all you feel anyway. You knew exactly where your friends at, before worrying Kiara any longer, you made your way to them before you saw of a guy that one beer bottle in his hand and the other hand in his pocket. Watching your friend from afar. You pushed the urge of considering if you should go near him or not. You were going because you didn't go so many times before.

"Hey, " you let him know of your arrival. His upper body moves to face you only to see you looking at him with your unfinished bottle on your hand. He turned back to keep watching his sister and the junk she brought along with her. He never ever liked them and he never will but he had to behave because his father told him to. Rafe could only behave himself to a certain extent. He tried to stop himself making their life like hell but failed so many times that you forgot how many times you had to stop himself from hurting your new friends. He was mad at Sarah bringing them into your lives and he was mad at you for joining in this quest and defying him about this matter. You knew Rafe felt like the Pogues were the ones blame for everything that goes wrong in his life and almost anything he does and and he has goes wrong. Yet he was almost sure they were guilty of everything that happened. He had a temper and an addiction that makes it worse. He was confused and lost in so many ways, he was all over the place. Regarding the fact he wants do right by his family, friends and by you, he always and always ends up doing the worst of there is. Rafe's choices was never right and until that moment, you couldn't picture yourself being jealous of him because still, he had a say in what he had done with his life. The kind of life you regret having maybe, however with the pills mostly, he thinks nobody has it right but him.

Rafe was angry at his father, at himself and at you. He was angry at everything. He no longer knew what has left for him anymore. He has never received anything from his father but the disappointment he caused him. The things used to be his now was taken over by others. His part of the island, his so called values, his friends even and you too. Rafe knew you for so long although you were almost distant with everybody, you shared a huge deal of time together. Mostly because you had close family relationships and Kooks hanged out together all the time until his little sister violates that rule.

"Your new friends turned you into an alcoholic, huh?"

He said coldly as possible, still bitter about you stood between him and JJ Maybank and chose him over him. Well, he didn't expect you to be on his side because you would never. You had principles or some kind of shit he lacks, however he didn't expect you to be on his side too.

"My oldest friends couldn't turn me into an crackhead, I thought I might as well try this one." You said, trying to sound as cold as him but you couldn't make it last so long. "You look like you hadn't drown yourself in snow."

He faced you. "Yet."

You smiled looking at the ground and it was a real one. Rafe was frustrated to so many and sometimes to you but you like to talk to him sometimes. All the time, probably. You didn't know exact amount because you started avoiding being around him for too long after sometime in your life. Because you felt your heart pounding in your chest in a way that so weird as he talks to you and looks at you a little too long. You couldn't take the risk of acknowledging that feeling and letting it grow.

"No lectures about how I shouldn't do it?" Rafe asked you surprisedly. Because he wouldn't hear the end of it generally.

"Would you take them seriously?" You said. Somehow, you felt like grinning like a idiot and you didn't stop yourself from doing it. You asked him, one brow lifted up, playfully. Not like the times you fake being playfull. For real.

As you talk to him, he was about to forget he was mad at you. He grinned at your way. "Nah."

And the way he smiled it was so deadly, but he felt so heavenly just like that.

"You see, I've learned my lessons." You say to him and he just shrugges.

Rafe wasn't the type to approach people with an passive aggressive attitude. He would go with full active. But tonight, what he felt the most was so sickening feeling like sorrow but not, destructive one like hatred which he usually feels most. Therefore he looked calmer outside but the war was going inside his mind and his chest. Yeah sometimes even he had one of those melancholic days.

You felt uneasy as he wasn't even looking at your way to answer. It was like you didn't get what you came here for. He just stood there, making you wondering what he was thinking of at the moment.

Your eyes caught JJ, looking worried as his eyes searched for you in the crowd then they found you. He paced towards to you, seeing Rafe, he thought you might need to be saved from him. "Hey, where've you been?" He asked you after he sent brief glares to Rafe and he recieved the same ones in return. "We were waiting for you."

Rafe felt so regarded before by everyone else, he knew you would have gone. Again.

"You coming?" JJ had to ask as you didn't say anything.

"I think I'll stay here for now. " You sounded so clear that although Rafe was surprised that you wanted to stay, he didn't think he heard you wrong.

"Are you sure?" He said and couldn't stop himself from looking at Rafe. Rafe hated that look and the way he was being protective of you like he would hurt you.

"She said she'll stay, didn't she? Beat it."

JJ turned to Rafe, his jaw clenching in anger. "I don't remember talking to you man. " He sounded hostile as possible.

As Rafe took a step towards to him, JJ was also ready to pick up another fight so he didn't hold himself back.

"Hey, hey!" You had to step in and pushed them away from each other but it was hard because they were always so willing to beat each other up.

"I'm tired of doing this again and again. " You left your hand on Rafe's chest but didn't move the one on JJ's, the one also holding the bottle. He didn't have much common sense either but still was better than Rafe. "I'm sorry to ditch you guys but I need to talk to Rafe."

JJ had seconds thoughts but he left you eventually. Rafe went back to being silent and didn't even ask you what was you wanted to talk him although he wondered.

"You had to be the alpha, didn't you?" You asked just to hear him answering.

"This is my house, I am the fucking alpha here." He spits nearly. He tried his everything to not make a scene but it was a hard battle he had fought inside. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him, the way he's so annoyingly silent and the way he looks so mad but hurt at the same time was confusing you. You couldn't know you either hate him or hug him so tightly that he should never feel broken again. You knew all he did, he did it to make everyone around you to love him.

"Are you angry with me?"

"Is this what you wanted talk about?" He stares at you, answering your question bothers him so he doesn't.

"No." You said. No use of him confirming his anger, it was obvious.

"Just cut the to chase then. Your boyfriend waits for you."

You reached for the cup in his hands and it took him by surprise. "He's not my boyfriend." You said as his eyes widened by the sudden move from you, trailed your hand until you threw the cup to the ground. Then they turned to see your expression to figure out what you up to. You were a little too close.

"What are you doing?" He asked slightly angrily, slightly astonishedly. His pink, soft lips moved so beautifully, you had hard times focusing on his eyes.

"I want you to be sober for this."

You smiled as you grabbed his hand that held the cup the seconds ago. He was baffled by your soft touch, something was different about you tonight.

You pulled him with you and he didn't move at first as he tried to make sense of what you are doing. This was as strange to him as it was to you because your remember how many times you avoided being close to him. When you were talking to him casually or you were fighting with him, you felt so uncomfortable when you get too close to him. He was like this stunning and mesmerizing thing you felt his energy all over you but if you touched him or stay too close, you would get burned. How many times you wanted to hug him, hold his hand, pat his shoulders but you just didn't...

"What are you doing?" He asked, you had a loose grip on his hand and as you two moved swiftly, he was scared that it might break off. "Where are we going Y/N?"

"Be patient just for once."

And he had to be, however he never liked not knowing what's coming for him.

"Are you drunk?" Rafe said as soon as you stopped in front of him, making it to your destination. His eyes wandered around the balcony to see If there's something he sould notice but he's missing. But there were only you and him.

You rolled at your eyes the fact everyone's assuming you're drunk when you never felt so sober and wide awake before until now.

"No, Rafe. I am not." You even left your bottle at the beach.

"Why did you bring me here?"

You had to let go of his hands but your eyes never left his face. There was something with him that you could never understand before. You look at him and never want to see anything else. You could watch him for hours and days and still wouldn't want to look away. How foolish you would sound if you said these out loud.

Rafe waited for an answer but all you did was stare at him blankly.

"Why are you being weird Y/N? You high?"

You walked towards to the edge and left him behind you but turned away to see him, leaning back on the parapets. You had this idiotic smile on your face that just can't go away when you see him. You kept it hidden all this time but no longer fight the feeling.

"No. I am not drunk. I am not high. How many times I have to repeat myself?" You didn't sound sarcastic or angry, on the contrary Rafe found your tone extremely cheerful and it left more confused with the the situation.

"But you don't seem that way. " He admitted. The girl he knows was earnest, restrained and would do what what expected from her. It was annoying to him time to time because you were perfect example people-his father- gives when how he should be like. You were decent and kind, type of person who knows what to say to the people older than you. You were more relaxed and fun when you were with close friends. He liked that you could do it many ways but he always found you hard to get to. You would only let people in -or only him to the some point and would just go ice after that point. You were sharp with your words too If you wanted to and would know where to hurt when you want to hurt somebody but you only did to him once or twice. Probably they were the only times you actually went so cruel with anybody and Rafe was the only person could enrage anyone despite of how calm this person is. Rafe thought you had a side that you kept in secret and he was aware and impressed by that.

Now, you stood there, your hands on the parapets and your head tilted to your side with a small smile on the corner of your lips. You didn't look that weird but the energy you radiate was most peculiar.

He looked up and down. "You seem different."

The way he sound was like a melody. "How come?"

He only shrugged his shoulders and watched you giggle, breaking the silent night with it. You didn't know why you did it, it just got out of you.

Rafe took a step towards you, his eyes squinted with worry. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my God, could you just stop it? I am fine Rafe. "

"Then speak. Why did you bring me here? You're acting insane as fuck." He was impatient now and you were a little upset he thinks you are insane. So being out of your character just for a night and even he thinks you're insane. Your mood was spoiled.

"You can leave If you want. I didn't bring you here to fight. "

You sounded hurt and he couldn't comprehend how did you get too sensitive. You would scream at each other and you wouldn't even fling.

"Okay," he said to ease the tension. "Just tell me why are we here."

His words didn't bring your cheerful attitude back but you still continued. "Do you remember the summer two years ago? You and Sarah stayed here when Rose and your dad went to Caribbean's along with Wheezie?"

Rafe nodded slowly, wondering about why the hell you were bringing this up. "Yeah, we threw the biggest party this island has ever seen." He said little proud with himself.

He hoped the way he chuckles would make you all giggly again but you kept a straight face.

"It had started as fancy party at first. Sarah and I really wanted it to be like Midsummers because we wanted to feel like grownups in our fancy clothes." You smiled softly with remembering all of this. "And Topper was down with the idea because he wanted attention from Sarah. We even convinced you to it."

"And I remember we end up trashing the house at the end of the night though. "

"It was a mess." you said with a small smile that was gone so quickly. You approached to him slowly, with a serious look on your face that finally resembles to your normal self. "Do you remember you put on your dad's tuxedo and it was short for you because you became a giant that year?"

Rafe nodded firmly he was nervous of your serious expression. Now, you were only a step ahead of him and you were searching for something in him that he had no idea what. "I do." He brows squinted. "I had to take it off."

" You put on your ball cap when everyone wore a bow-tie." You smiled sadly, when you remember it hurt how good he looked that night. You'd remember him like that way forever.

"You were too drunk that night. I don't think you remember and it probably didn't matter to you," you cleaned your lips with your tongue. "We were here, alone, and you told me I looked beautiful in my sundress that night."

You felt a warn sensation on your cheek and your vision got blurred before you realize you are crying. You didn't know why because you finally felt so relieved you got this out of your chest. "And I couldn't forget that moment how much I tried to. "

Tears kept falling from your eyes, not matter how hard you tried to keep them in. You were tired from deceiving yourself about Rafe and pretending like you don't feel the way you do. Keeping this hidden from him and yourself. And you hated that you're crying and being so emotional and vulnerable now.

You wiped the tears and able to stop yourself although when you finally managed to look at Rafe, your vision wasn't all clear.

He looked at you as If you are not real. When you didn't get any reaction from Rafe, you were ready to drown yourself in bottles. You couldn't believe how stupid and naive you became in a week. This was the reason you never told him. This was the situation you didn't want to put yourself in. Just like that, a tear warmed your cheek again.

Rafe reached for your cheek, cupped it in his hand hesitantly. His heart shattered when you cried. And it was because of him. His hands left you naked, staring at him and wishing you were dead.

"How can you like me?" He asked, the words didn't almost make it out of his mouth and you weren't able to see his blurry blue eyes because of your own.

You cried a little more to his words. It hurt you how he thought he was unlovable. Yes he was mean, confused and a total mess but he was so much more. Maybe he didn't knew what to say or what to do all the time, maybe everything he did was wrong but he had good intentions. He was damaged and wounded by so many places. He was chaotic, problematic and it was probably wrong to mant to like him. Yes it was hard to love him but you did love him with every inch of your body and soul. You put your hand on his cheek and his skin underneath your palm was the smoothest things you ever touched before.

"You're beautiful, Rafe." You said and you just didn't know how to explain the way you feel. It was too much, too powerful.

"No." He stepped back, shaking his head side to side. He just couldn't believe you. You... of all people, knew how bitter he is and liked him? You were amazing and breathtaking in so many ways, you could do so much more and deserve so much better. And he was wretched soul, not even his father loved him. How could you possibly do?

"Don't fuck with me, okay?" He was angry at you playing with his mind like this. You were being cruel again, hitting where it hurts. "You don't." He said it like it is impossible for someone to love him because somehow, it was for everybody around him.

"I do."

He looked at you like you committed an unspeakable crime. Like you were trying to deceive him into that he has what he always seeked for. "Don't fucking lie to me. You don't." He said and a tear fell from his eyes. "You.." he had to take a deep breath to continue. You... A creation that is above him. "You can't."

If he only knew how he made you feel. If he knew how many times you pushed back the thoughts of him when they suddenly came to you and made your days unbearable. How you convinced yourself that he doesn't mean anything to you and felt sick in your stomach when you saw him with another girl and wished it was you instead. He had a possession in your heart without his knowledge and today was the day that part declared its freedom.

"But I do, Rafe. I spent so much thinking that it's nothing, thinking it is wrong, but I just do. I don't care if it is anymore, Rafe. I always tried to do what's right, it got me nowhere. If this is wrong, then I don't wanna be right."

You brushed his hair back and he was breathing heavily in your face. "Don't push me away." You whispered. "Please."

"I might never be this brave again." You kissed him, slowly made your lips as one. His skin burned you when his lips felt like heaven. When he gently kissed you back, you felt like nothing in this world could make you feel better than this.

Although you needed him more than the air your lungs lacked, you had to pull away. Your breaths melded with each other and now you got a taste of it, you didn't want to stop. Your lips once more was intertwined with his and they danced softly on yours. As your movements became more passionate, he followed you replacing his hands on both of your cheeks and pushing himself closer to you as if that was even an option, If it were, you'd do it sooner.

You wanted more and more. The scary truth that's been invading thoughts had no chance of fighting with the desire you were burning with. Him not loving you back as you do love him would kill you tomorrow but tonight you were born again.

[bbq-hawks-wings]

On Hawks' Injuries

Alright, let's get this out of the way.

"His back... It's... gone!"

I may like to act like an intellectual, but no amount of analysing the color of the curtains changes the fact that I'm a married, mother of two, in her mid-twenties fixated on a fictional character from a series aimed at teenagers about superhero high school. The innuendo from Dark Shadow, the implications of what this means for Hawks on a personal and professional level - that shit stings and I might actually cry when this dumpster fire ends up in the anime in a few years.

We won't know about the extent of his injuries until he's been examined by a doctor, but considering how quickly his wings went up (this all happens in seconds which means those flames are extremely hot)...

...We're looking easily at huge patches of third degree burns with first and second scattered across his body. The area most affected is in the center of his back which does not have a lot of soft tissue to insulate before you're getting to very important nerves and organs, and the scar tissue that will likely form in the muscles and skin after healing may leave his movement heavily restricted.

Depending on how gruesome Horikoshi wants to be, Hawks not only will never get his wings back, but he could be looking at significant permanent disability for the rest of his life. This isn't even taking into consideration the acute complications he may face on the road to recovery including fighting off bacterial infections, fluid loss, and his immediate increased risk of hypothermia. Left improperly treated, someone with this level of burn injury faces an agonizing death (though, a quick one after passing out without treatment), and proper treatment would likely require huge amounts of pain medication to make the long road to recovery even bearable. This doesn't even take into account any additional injury he may have sustained when he hit his head after Dark Shadow dropped them off the balcony.

Remembering for a minute that this is a battle Shonen we're talking about, this is an absolute worst case scenario, and this post goes over how it likely won't end up this bad in the narrative, but that doesn't minimize the sheer brutality of the beating he just took. The fact that he only passed out after hitting his head is pretty miraculous in and of itself, but I'll force myself to suspend my amazement a little bit given the nature of the source material.

Let's assume at the very least his wings aren't coming back, and he'll need at least a week with good medical attention and healing quirks to just be able to get out of bed again. What then?

It should always be obvious when I predict the future that it's all speculation because I'm not actually clairvoyant, but you know disclaimer or whatever.

We have some nasty red flags staring us down in regards to where this fight is going right now. Shigaraki is awake. Dabi's words after Tokoyami escapes with Hawks insinuates there's an alternate plan than the MLA had, Gigantomachia is moving, and the tides are quickly turning for the heroes without even all of that. This fight looks like it's about to go south real fast.

If the heroes lose with significant losses - with any amount of death or injury - and with the added knowledge they at least partially relied on young, inexperienced kids to help bolster their numbers in the hopes to end this quickly, by the time Hawks wakes up he'll not only be staring down his own personal loss in the wake but the weight of the guilt of what he'll perceive as his own failure will crush him. I also sincerely believe that worst detail at the end of it will be him knowing he personally killed a good man for nothing to even come of it in the end.

Remembering also that the Hero Public Safety Commission is the one who tasked him with this mission in secret and the fact, again, that they pulled children into this failed fight - I do not believe they will take responsibility. This doesn't even take into account the fact he'll be useless as a hero and that they don't even know the extent of his knowledge of their inner workings which makes him a dangerous potential leak.

What's more, news of Hawks' betrayal of the MLA will spread through the ranks and file into the public consciousness. On every single side Hawks will be the scapegoat while he is fighting for his life from a hospital bed. He'll be in more danger without the fierce protection of trusted friends than he was while deep in enemy territory. If he doesn't have a tribe he can trust to keep him safe, maybe even going as far as to clandestinely steal him away where he can't be found, attempts on his life are not out of the question.

Hawks will have a choice to make - rise up and make some real god-damned change while we're already up to our necks or roll over and let the world come crashing down around him as he sinks into despair. He can either settle for being a symbol of failure or he can take the chance to rebirth himself.

Could Hawks' wings ever come back?

This injury is insinuated to be permanently damaging. Whatever mechanism grafted Hawks' wings to his back and allowed him to control them is implied to be damaged beyond recovery, if not completely gone.

However, given Eri's mere existence it's absolutely possible to rewind that injury. Before the battle began it was insinuated Eri will end up using her power again, perhaps even out of necessity. It's an absolutely broken quirk, to be sure; but running with the idea that at some point her power will be offered to Hawks to let him have his wings back - perhaps it's even her idea - I posit two scenarios:

Hawks accepts and he's given a second chance to be whatever he wants to be. His freedom completely restored to him physically and figuratively, he begins life anew with a zeal and solemn appreciation for life and the people in it because the opportunity to make a full return like this is a one in a million chance he's lucky to have.

Hawks turns her down, at least uncomfortable with the idea of using a child's quirk for his own benefit given his own history, even if she offers it freely with no additional obligation to herself. He takes a moral stand in the moment to say, "It's not your job to fix my mistakes and shortcomings" and lives as an example of accountability and living with the hard choices you've made in life and learning how to be happy despite the loss.

I would personally be happy with either if Horikoshi intends to take either route. It's more than possible neither will happen, but with the Eri angle, I hope the possibility is at least touched upon. Maybe it's a one-shot thing and he chooses to let her restore someone like Mirio instead. Maybe it'll get completely broken and bring back every hero - Hawks, Mirio, Mirko, etc. - perhaps even triggered by her own determination to help in any way she can. We'll have to see. The story can take any number of directions after this, and it's not so much where we're going that has me antsy as much as the wait it'll take to get there.

[quequel]

Choose a tiny frog and I'll tell you something you need to hear right now

Feeling a lil lost? Choose the frog that speaks to you the most and I'll spare you some kind words!

If this reading has resonated, please feel welcome to send me feedback through my askbox or tip me on ko-fi! I also perform paid readings :)

Frog 1

Death, The Fool, Two of Swords

Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again. (Homer, the Iliad)

You are a fool. You are ridiculous; not because you've done anything specially stupid, but simply because that is an inherent trait of humankind. To expect otherwise from ourselves is simply unrealistic – you have been wrong before, and you still will be many times.

But it gets better: you are going to die. We all will. Isn't that a relief? Our life-span compared to the infinity of time is not only short, but non-existent. What we do today does not matter to others. The only people actually invested in our life are ourselves.

So get up on your feet, and let yourself be stupid! Let yourself fall, and be kind enough to let yourself get up. Get back to drawing or writing; post that thing, send that message, apply for that spot. Worst case scenario, you will fail, and you will eventually die. Everything's fine :)

Frog 2

Four of Cups, Four of Swords, Ace of Cups

Even if you don’t believe in God or fate, at least you can believe in narrative. (Richard Silken, Broken/Unbroken)

It's okay if your life's not always pretty. Sometimes, being alive simply hurts, for no reason at all; sometimes life is just scrolling the internet at 12 am and eating snacks from a paper box. Not everything needs to be romanticized; not every second needs to be lived to its fullest.

For now, take a deep breath. Life does not need to be much all the time. You are fine just the way you are. Rest your mind. Make peace with your unlived life. Let yourself not think.

Giving that space to yourself will give you space to work with possibility. Who knows what could happen if you embraced the present moment? The new things you'd notice, the opportunities that would present themselves to you?

Frog 3

Eight of Cups, Judgement, The Wheel of Fortune

I made myself a promise: even if it meant becoming a stranger to my loved ones, even if it meant keeping secrets, I would have a life of my own. (Saeed Jones, How We Fight for Our Lives)

It's okay to leave it behind. Maybe you've heard otherwise, from your friends, family, or a part of yourself. Moving on might hurt those around you, and it might feel selfish of you to do so; but this decision is not about others, it's about you. It's your life, your work, your deliverance. If you don't take this step, no one will take it for you.

Take a leap of faith. Make the hard choice, and make peace with your past. Your future self will be extremely thankful. Life will reward you in unexpected ways: whatever seems lost will return to you. New friendships. New relationships. Acceptance, love, safety – whatever it is you sacrificed along the way. Do not be afraid to prioritize your happiness.

Have a nice day!

[fairycosmos]

3. I know i have to 'get out there' but it's hard when you've felt your whole life that nobody likes you. i literally only have one friend. i just feel really hopeless... i feel like im not meant for this kind of life, everything feels wrong and like im waiting for something's never gonna come, some kinda magic. i want of life of adventure and paint and write but instead i have to study because i'd feel like a loser w/o an education. i dont mind working i just dont want to study.

hey love, i'm really sorry to hear that. i think it's totally normal to be disappointed and even more so to be unsure about your future - it's not an indicator of failure, it's a natural part of growing up and finding your place in the world. i'm probably ignorant and don't know what it's like to actually be in your shoes, so i apologize if i come across as frustrating at some points. this is just my perspective. but i'm wondering if maybe taking more time away is an option for you? maybe working somewhere, focusing on your mental health for a while.... because the thing is your level of education has nothing to do with your worth as a person, and even more than that, there's no set time scale for this sort of thing. you could go back to college at 35, and it wouldn't matter. your life doesn't have to follow that stereotypical linear trajectory we're all forced to chase, in order for you to find happiness and success. and you don't have to justify your own personal choices to anyone, least of all to yourself. i just think it's important to try to focus on the factors of living that are in your control, that will bring you a sense of stability and peace. i know it's hard to let go of the internalised capitalistic idea of having to prove yourself through academia and getting a 'good job', but it's always useful to remind yourself of just how exploitative and made up that entire construct is. you're here and you're experiencing the world and with that you are fulfilling your point, you are doing enough. you are enough. everything else is background noise, that we're forced to muddle through, but background noise nonetheless. you don't need anyone's permission to prioritize your own needs and wants.

however, if you're dead set on studying this topic you don't like (which, i totally understand why you'd make that choice bc i know it's not that simple), then i reckon it's alright to just let yourself feel shitty for a while. any sadness, anger, disappointment, pain you feel about it is to be expected - and even though it fuckin sucks to have to carry it, its intensity definitely won't last. one way or another, you will adapt and so will your ability to cope. just don't use those emotions as an excuse to engage in self destructive behaviour, cause that'll only perpetuate the cycle and keep you in a dark place. having to force ourselves to do shit we hate is always going to feel like an everlasting burden we're never going to escape from, even if that's not the case in reality. and i had a lot of experience with that in school too - the main tactic i can remember making a difference, was like you said, finding little things to make the weight of it more bearable. i think that often starts first and foremost with our own mental health before anything else, because it controls the filter through which we see the world. if you don't like it in yourself you won't like it anywhere. when it comes to your social anxiety, are you receiving any support/would you be open to that? i think consistently seeing someone while you're in school - whether that's a counselor, a therapist, attending a support group or even just calling a hotline to begin with - could really help you manage the stress you're so afraid is waiting for you. having someone to talk to and learning why you are the way you are, and what tools could help you specifically in terms of coping mechanisms and finding a support network can honestly do wonders for your self esteem and the way you approach others. and of course it takes time, maybe that brand of self care is a lifelong process, but it's still important to engage with it. so balancing school with prioritizing your own wellbeing might be something that lightens the weight of the experience. anxiety tends to have us anticipating worst case scenarios and drawing on old insecurities to convince us we'll be alone and in pain forever, but what you've been through is truly not a mirror image of where you're going. making friends especially as an adult is fuckin hard, and struggling with it doesn't mean there's something irreparably wrong with you. just means it's hard to get to know ppl, but that's not a personal failing on your part. it's just a fact. most of them are too worried about their own 'flaws' to take note of yours. but that doesn't mean there aren't ppl out there you haven't met yet who will love you, even if that's hard to believe rn. also a side note, it could be a good idea to build up a routine where you're engaging in something that actively makes you happy at least a few times a week. can literally just be watching netflix, or taking up a hobby, meditating, going for a walk - i know college is v busy and it may not always be possible, but having small pockets of deliberate down time to look forward to is crucial. im not saying it'll cure everything or anything, just that it might make it all feel less overwhelming. but lastly, i want to say that it's ok if you give it a go and then decide you can't do it. that's an option, too. it doesn't have to be black and white. don't fault yourself for not wanting to spend 3 years doing something you hate, but also know that it's possible to get through it if it's a means to an end for you, especially if you seek the help you need. and whichever choice you go with, neither of them are 'wrong.' it's just your path.

anyway, i'm sorry this got super long. i think discussing it with someone you trust might be a good move, just to know that they have your back whether you work through uni or not. you're honestly doing so much better than you realize and i'm proud of you for continuing to try and strive despite how painful it all is. but i really hope that you can catch yourself when your brain is being unnecessarily unkind to you, and that you can then make the conscious choice to change the narrative and approach it from a place of patience and self appreciation. i think your life is still worth living even if it doesn't match up to where you think you should be, which is something i've been trying to accept lately too. that so much is beyond our control and we can literally only focus on the silver linings of the factors that are in our hands. that we can still be okay, living like that. and none of this is permanent, not the way it often seems like it is, but especially not the confusion. it just takes time to live the answers to all the existential questions you have. take it a day at a time. ANYWAY im rooting for you with all my heart and if you want to talk about this properly feel free to message me!! my overarching point is that you're not as alone as you feel. and you won't be in college, and you won't be if you look for work instead. so many of us understand where you're coming from. much love to you, take care 💗💗

[ma-gic-gay]

This is bad.

Boss and second best friend is presumed dead and I just had sex with his wife who happens to be my best friend bad. In his bed. In his house. Pretty sure I need to go and repent at a church when I'm not even religious bad.

Oh right, that's what happened. Minus the going to a church and confessing his sins to a priest part. That's probably what he should do, but he doubts he'll actually go through with that. A priest would probably somehow get to Sam or worse, end up knowing where Sonny is and been harboring him all this time. As far as he knows, you can't really have a priest not tell your secrets.

He's fucked. Scratch that, they're fucked.

Wrong choice of expression there. Very wrong. Ironic, but severely wrong expression.

What the hell is he supposed to do from here? What are they supposed to do from here? Go and confess their sins to a pastor? Too long and they'd probably end up in jail if that happened. Pretend it never happened? He knows that's not going to happen. There's going to be a long, drawn out conversation about it. Move to different continents and never speak to each other again? Too extreme, not to mention unlikely. Something would happen and they'd both be pulled back to town or to whatever continent they were on to post bail or something. Besides, they'd been friends forever. They could never not be in each other's lives. It was impossible.

Oh god. They're friends. No benefits. The last time there had been benefits attached, they had hated each other. Not in a typical "I hate you bitch" way, but in a "it doesn't matter if I never see you again. In fact, my life would be better if I didn't" way.

Needless to say they were not going back to those days. It would be impossible now; both had intertwined lives. Their kids were close and both were close to each other's kids. Extra parents, if you will. Not to mention, they both knew way too much about each other.

Irony is a cruel mistress, he thinks, thinking back to when they didn't even know each other's names. Those were the days of Robin and picking up random girls in bars before he learned his lesson about the girls he picked for his hookups carefully because if he didn't, there was a chance he'd end up with his entire life turned into a tornado of blonde hair and getting her out of trouble.

The quiet snoring at his side suddenly came to a stop, a telltale sign she's woken up or close to it.

Suddenly, he's all too aware of what happened last night between the two and what's going on now. They'd had sex (protected, at least they were stable enough to remember that) in the house Sonny bought, in his bed. The kids were at their friends houses, or in the case of Avery at her mother's. So at least the kids hadn't heard them.

Flashforward what he imagines can't be more than twelve hours and now they're in Sonny's bed, naked and both awake or waking up. The kids wouldn't suspect anything, provided none of his clothes besides his jacket were downstairs. He'd spent the night in general plenty of times and that had increased in this year.

Granted, their impulse control last night was to be questioned given that this had happened.

"Jason? What are you doing here?" Carly asks tiredly, still wiping the sleep out of her eyes. "And where the hell is your shirt? Or mine, for that matter- oh god."

She remembers. Dammit. This is both a good and a bad thing.

Good in the thing that he's now confirmed that they were sober, bad that now they've got decisions to make and neither of them make the best decisions when it's early in the morning and they're uncaffeinated.

"We need to talk about this, but first, coffee. Where the hell are our clothes? Please tell me we didn't leave them downstairs," she groans.

They find their clothes quickly enough and get dressed slightly awkwardly before heading downstairs to brew coffee.

The moss bowl that seems to continually grow, to the point that Jason was gifted some moss to go in his apartment as a housewarming gift from Carly, seems extra interesting this morning as he studies it intensely. That is one big moss plant. Over the course of a year, it got much larger than expected.

"Alright, we are not going to stand here in this awkward silence. We are going to discuss what happened last night and then figure out what the hell is means," she decides, handing him a mug of coffee.

"What is there to discuss? We had sex," he answers her simply after taking a sip of coffee.

"That's the exact thing we have to discuss."

"We're both very aware of how that works, Carly. Would you like me to pull up a diagram online and explain it?" Jason teases her.

"No smartass, I want to discuss the sex."

"Oh god," he groans into his coffee. "It's not even ten am and you've already decided that this is the big fight of the day for you. Couldn't this wait until, I don't know, Scout graduates college?"

"Jason," she warns, "humor me and discuss last night. I promise that this conversation will end sooner if you just agree to actually have it sooner."

"It'll end ten minutes before my funeral as opposed to at my funeral, then," he jokes.

"Do you want me to think about your death?"

"Alright fine I give in, we'll talk about it."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" She asks triumphantly.

"You are lucky I don't have anything else to do today besides paperwork I can have someone else do," he answers.

There's not enough coffee in the world to stop the headache he can feel she's going to bring to him today. It's a sixth sense by now, that she'll be giving him a headache that won't be fixed until the problem is solved.

In a weird way, it's a relief know that she does that. It's comforting in the strangest way.

Neither of them claimed to ever understand why it's calming.

"I know," she says, a smirk on her face. "Now, to the discussion about last night. We did it."

"We have already confirmed that information, yes," he agrees.

"It was good."

"Yeah."

"We're friends."

"Correct."

"I need more than one word answers!"

"We're reviewing information we both already agreed on and these aren't questions."

Sighing, Carly dramatically sips her coffee, getting a quiet chuckle out of her friend. "I still would appreciate an answer that wasn't a synonym of yes. Maybe one that's, I don't know, five or more words."

"Then ask me a question."

"Fine. Where do you want to go from here? Do we stay friends or be more or be friends with benefits or something else I haven't thought of yet?" The blonde rambles, caffeine kicking in.

"You're rambling."

"I'm aware."

"Just checking."

"Answer the question!"

"Calm down," he urges. "I don't know where to go from here."

"You're always the one who knows what to do in situations like these, not me!"

"Yes, I always come up with a plan of what to do when you and I hook up a day after Christmas. Because we've been in this situation loads of times before," he chuckle sarcastically.

"I meant when I do something impulsive, or you do something impulsive smartass," Carly glares at him playfully.

"Ah yes, my life's sole purpose: Stopping you from doing stupid things. And when that fails, getting you out of trouble," he jokes again. "I don't know what to do, for once. We may have a major problem on our hands."

"May have? Jason, if you can't figure out what to do from here, I think we're in major trouble! I haven't made a major life decision without a severe amount of your input in a very long time," the blonde exclaims, downing the last of her coffee like it'll help her make a decision of what to do here.

"That probably says something about you being codependent on me."

"You love me running into your apartment with your problems."

"Sometimes. Other times, your problems and plans are so stupid I don't understand them but somehow they hinge on me going along with them."

"Well of course they hinge on you going along with them? You're my best friend, if they didn't I'm convinced that our friendship would simply never recover from it. We'd live our lives without a single hope of ever getting back to this because you didn't go along with my plan," she says dramatically, smiling. "And that would be the worst thing to ever happen to either of us."

"Mhm," he says, rolling his eyes but a small smile pulls at his lips. "I believe you decided that we needed to figure this out."

"Well we do!"

"So far you've only stated the facts of what happened and some of the options of what to do. You're the one who decided we have to figure out exactly what this means before I'm even fully coherent."

"Drink your coffee faster."

"Solid advice coming from a woman who's already formed three plans before her first cup of coffee."

"You're right, there are about seventeen different possibilities in my mind at the moment based off of what decision we come to," she smiles at him. "Would you like to hear them?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then let's get it over with," he sighs, sipping his coffee in an attempt to not deal with a massive headache.

"First scenario is that we pretend this never happened and stay exactly the same. No awkwardness, last night is essentially wiped from our memories. Solid option, but it's impossible. Second is friends with benefits but we don't catch feelings. Again, solid option with no to minimal awkwardness, but I have a feeling we both know it won't end up happening, especially with me. Third is friends with benefits but we do catch feelings. Could end in repressing feelings or could end with us dating. Either way, ends up being fairly complicated. Fourth is that we begin dating. This one has equal pros and cons, primarily that if that ends up going south we won't have our friendship being the same and that would be the worst but that if it goes well, marriage. No more kids though, I think we've got enough of those.

"Fifth is we both move away and never see each other again. Not happening. We both would end up arrested. Or killed," Carly shudders at the thought, "Sixth option is that you go back to Sam and I begin the rather depressing at this age journey of dating. Seventh is that we acknowledge last night but continue as friends. Can't decide the pros and cons of that one."

"I haven't even finished my coffee yet and you're already planning seven different ideas for your future?" Jason asks, impressed and terrified at the same time. "Good god."

"Well now you have seven options to choose from. No pressure but if you choose five, I will never forgive you."

"Five is automatically out of the story, don't worry about that."

"In that case, you have six options to choose from."

"Why can't you choose?"

"Because I'm incapable of making a decision of this caliber on my own."

"But I'm not?"

"Fine, we'll make this decision together. After all, it affects us both." Carly agrees against her better judgement. "We should make a list."

"A list?" He groans. "This sounds dangerously close to a plan."

"It's not a plan, though. That's the beauty of it, we make a pros and cons list. From there, we make our decision."

"Most people would flip a coin."

"That's a terrible way to make a decision."

"Not really but fine, we'll make a list."

"I knew you'd give in."

To be continued when I'm not half asleep

oh dear-

[moody-cowdaddy]

Friends in Low Places [Part 1]

Arthur Morgan x Reader | Imagine #1

Summary: You bite off more than you can chew when you wind up in the muddy little town known as Valentine for the night.

Category: Action, Drama, Fluff, First meeting.

××××

"Full house, fellas!" You exclaimed, slamming down a fist full of worn poker cards on the saloon table.

You had landed yourself in the small town of Valentine in New Hanover a month ago. You didn't tend to hang around one spot too long, you always found trouble, or at least, trouble found you.

You had been on your own for the majority of your life. You had to grow up fast. Both parents had died when you were very young, so you spent most of your life in an orphanage. But, being the troublemaker that you were, you were always getting into mischief whether it was fighting, or running off. After more than a few squabbles, the headmasters at the orphanage couldn't take much more, and you were sent off to a strict refinement school.

While you learned to be a little more lady-like, the rebellious streak in you stayed put. Once you were old enough, you headed out on your own. You had seen a lot of the world already at such a young age, and you were planning on seeing more of it. You always found yourself going from town to town and meeting a lot of people along the way. You were very much a woman of the world.

The men around the table all groaned in disappointment when they looked down to see that you had won yet another round at the poker table. The saloon was lively and kicking that night. It was filled to the brim with people from town and others like you who were just passing through and needed a place to hold up for the night. The drinks flowed freely, the conversations and people inside grew more rowdy by the minute. It wasn't a surprise how you witnessed more than a few fights here and there from some drunkards that night.

"Damn. I fold, woman," one of the older gentleman at the table groaned.

He had a greying beard that almost reached down to his shoulders. His tarnished rancher clothing letting you his livelyhood wasn't with easy work.

"C'mon Willard, don't ya wanna stay for another round? I'm not done takin' your day's pay yet," you smiled cheekily.

He downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass, "I ain't stickin' 'round for that'un. I gotta ranch to keep."

"I'm afraid I'll have to say the same," Jack, the other gentleman at the table spoke up.

He was a much different breed from the rest of the patrons. He had a very posh evening suit on, and his accent sounded as if he was from a more upscale city like Blackwater or Saint Denis. He was definitely a stranger in these parts where hardworking people and outlaws seemed to be the only real inhabitants.

Jack was the small glimmer of a near future; a future where outlaws and simple way of living was to be done away with. It was a way of life no one wanted anymore. A whole new world was coming, both literally and figuratively.

You scoffed and finished off your own drink, "Well, it's been fun, boys. Maybe I'll see y'all around again."

"Maybe, if I have a cent left to my name," Willard said gruffly as he left the table and disappeared into the crowd.

"I may stick around for another drink or two. Take in the sights," Jack spoke, flashing you a coquettish smile.

A smile small formed on you lips as you gave him a nod, obliging him. You didn't fancy him much. He was rather big-headed and his conversation skills were dull. You were more-so entertaining him out of the need for cash. It wasn't a secret that you didn't have a job, or a husband to take care of you. You never were much of a woman to settle down with a man for just the sake of stability, anyway.

You made most of your money by beating the pants off of arrogant drunks at poker in saloons like this, or anything else that could be made into a gamble, but your main source of funds came from robbing. Though, you did your best not to rob anyone who was actually innocent, that never sat right with you. But Jack.. He seemed like the type of prick that would steal candy from a kid and then ask why it's crying.

So, as the night went on, the saloon got louder and the whiskey got better. You had taken a few shots, but you seemed to hold your liquor better than half the men around here. Jack was beginning to slurr, while his pomade slicked hair was now disheveled and clinging to his face as he held onto the bar. He was good and loaded; bad for him, but good for you. It don't seem like it'd take much of a fuss to get whatever valuables he had on him, and you had already spotted a beautiful, gold pocketwatch that was hanging in his waistcoat.

You turned to him, buttoning up your old leather trailcoat. Your wardrobe always seemed to change depending on your situation. Some days you'd be as ladylike as any other gal, as you were clothed in a dress with a tightly clinched waist thanks to the corsets you wore, and other days you were what would have been your refinement headmistress' worst nightmare when you dressed like the outlaw that you truly were at heart.

"I'm feeling a bit peckish. Mind walkin' a lady back to her room?" You mustered up a charming smile, gesturing your hand towards the door.

You had taken up residence at the hotel across the street for time being. Jack seemed to have no quarrel about this by any means. He took the last sip of whiskey from his glass and turned to you, jutting out his arm for you to take it.

"It'd be my pleasure, miss (Y/N)," he spoke.

You gave him a nod as you intertwined your arm with his. The two of you set off for the hotel, the walk would give you the time you needed to come up with a satisfactory plan, one that wouldn't land you in Valentine county jail. You quickly decided that leading him into your room would be best, and once you do, you'd knock him out with the butt of your gun, empty his pockets and get the hell outta town. You had pretty much overstayed your welcome here anyway, and you were growing wearing of this sloppy, muddy town.

After stomping through the muggy streets, you made it back over to the porch of the hotel, and you received your fair share of dirty glances from a few old crones who saw you as you walked through the entrance, leading a man upstairs. You already knew what it was that they were thinking, the town had more than it's fair share of ladies of the night, but you were not one of them. Of course robbing people could probably be considered more immoral than prostitution, but it was your method of choice. It also had an element of fun to it, you had to admit.

"Would you like to come in for one more drink?" You turned to Jack while standing outside your door.

A coy smirk tugged at his lips, "Yes ma'am, I would."

You hummed, turning around to open your door. You needed to work fast, get the job done and hit the road as quick as possible, so you led him inside of your room, closing the door tightly begind you. You took in a small breath as you turned around to Jack who was standing behind you. He was a tad wobbly on foot, and that was good. You gave a polite smile as you stepped over to a small mahogany table near the tall chester drawer that sat in the middle of the room. You lifted the small, crystal pitcher that was filled halfway with the familiar whiskey and poured a generous amount into the glass before handing it over to Jack.

"Good 'nuff?" You asked with a smile.

"That'll do it," he chuckled, eyeing the full glass, reaching out for it.

You perched yourself against the chester drawer as you watched him down the liquor, just waiting. He gulped it down halfway before coughing, he took a breath before setting it down onto the table.

"You've peaked my curiosity," he said, shifting his dark eyes to you.

"Have I now?" You blinked at him.

He nodded, "What is a woman like yourself doing all alone here anyway? Surely you've had suitors," he shrugged, eyeing you.

You studied him for a moment, his face seemed to have gone mostly blank and emotionless by this point.

"Once upon a time, I suppose," you cleared your throat. "I never really fancied marriage as much as some women."

He blinked at you before taking a step closer, reaching down into his pocket. Your intution began to nag you in the back of your mind, and you brought your arms up to cross them over your chest, ensuring that you could get to your revolver quickly, if needed. Jack brought his hand back out of his waist coat, a money clip gripped between his fingers.

"What are you doin'?" You asked, looking at him with a peculiar expression.

"How much?" He smiled, pulling a few bucks out of the clip.

Your lips parted, "I beg your pardon?"

He shook his head before looking back at you, a concerning smile forming over his lips, "How much to spend some time with a fine woman such as yourself? C'mon darling, I know playing poker can't be the only game you're running here."

You furrowed your eyebrows at his accusation, knowing exactly what it was that he was inferring, "I'm not a whore."

"What's your price?" He gave you a cocky look.

"No price," you growled. "I do think you should go now."

"But I don't want to," he took another step towards you.

Your heart began to beat beneath the surface of your chest like a drum, all of your better instincts crying out for you to shoot him now, but you couldn't. If you shot him right here, right now, you'd for sure lose every freedom, and if the law didn't get you, the bounty hunters sure as shit would. There had to be another way outta this.

"Please, leave me be," you said firmly.

He shook his head, "I won't ask you to do anything you haven't don't before," he said, reaching out to brush a finger through your hair.

You reflexes were faster than your willpower, your hand darted into your trail coat, fully prepare to grasp the butt of the revolver you had holstered inside of it, but he must have already calculated that possibility, snd before your fingers could get halfways gripped around it, he had caught your wrist, bending it backwards before pressing you roughly against the chester drawer.

"Bastard!" You hollered, kneeing him roughly in the groin.

That slowed him down enough so that you could push past him, and reach the door. You flung it open, your only mission was to make it out, make it outside of this place and ride far, far away from this hell. You sprinted out of the room, but your journey game to a short stop once you ran smack dab into something solid.

For a moment, you thought it was a wall, or maybe the law, until you looked up to see the tall silhouette of a man in the dark hallway of the hotel. The only light available were the few flickering oil lamps that were mounted outside each door. The man that stood in front of you was sturdy and tough looking, in a cowboy hat that was pushed down over his eyes, his beard being one of the only real visible facial features.

"'Scuse me, madame," he said in a gruff, but oddly polite tone of voice.

"Sorry," you breathed your heart still racing as you turned your head back towards the door.

Jack pulled himself out of the entrance, "(Y/N), come back inside." His eyes darted between you and the strange man in front of you.

"No," you shook your head.

The tough looking cowboy looked between the both of you, "Sounsds like you folks had a scuffle going on. Heard it from down the way." He gestured towards the end of the hall.

Jack chuckled nervously, "A bit too much to drink I'm afraid, sir. Thank you."

The man gave Jack a smirk, "Uh-huh. Or maybe you're tryin' to rough up the lady." He shifted his eyes towards you.

You looked back at him, silently pleading for him to help.

"That's quite a serious accusation," Jack narrowed his eyes.

"No harm meant, partner. Why don't you just leave the girl be, and we can all go on about our business," the man nodded at Jack.

"I'm afraid this isn't your business," Jack shook his head, ignoring the man's warning as he stepped forward, reaching out to grab your wrist again.

You fought back this time, pushing him away with your hands, "Get off me."

The man had obviously had enough of the situation and grabbed Jack by the shoulders, slamming him against the wall, "Do I gotta tell you again, boah? I won't be sayin' it a third goddamn time."

They had a scuffle as Jack tried to throw a punch back at the man, but he seemed to be absolutely no match for whomever this man was, he slung Jack around like a rag doll. A few blows being exchanged between them before the man gave the final punch that knocked the man out cold on the ground.

"Jesus," you breathed.

Before either of you could catch a breathe, you heard voices and soon the footsteps of people coming up the stairs. The two of you looked at each other in panic.

"Quick, get him into my room," you urged, reaching down to grab Jack's legs.

The man leaned down in front of the body and grabbed ahold of it and the two of you of you drug him into your room, shutting the door tightly. You held yourself against it with your ear pressed against it, listening out for anything suspicious. What you heard sounded like a man and a woman passing by the door, nothing seemed to serious and neither of them stopped at your door. Once the hall went silent again, you breathed a sigh of relief as you turned and pressed your back against the door, looking back up at the man.

"Thank you, mister. You saved me a lot of trouble," you said, giving him a nod.

He nodded back, "Don't mention it, just doin' the right thing."

You smiled and dropped to your knees beside Jack's body, rifling through his pockets to find the gold pocketwatch and the money clip. He had a whole $50 on him. You glanced up at the man who looked at you a little surprised, but did seem to be at all bothered to see you robbing this man. It wasn't that much surprising to you either, he too had the outlaw look about him, you figure he had probably some his fair share of robniyng, too. You pulled $25 out of the clip, handing it over to the man.

"For your troubles," you smiled.

He held his hand up, "No ma'am, he had it comin'."

You gestured again, "I insist that you take it, we both need to get the hell outta here before he wakes up."

The man gave you an amused look before dropping his head a little, a smirk curling one side of his lip.

He reached out, taking the money and pocketing it quickly, "C'mon, I know the back way out."

He motioned you to follow him, and he led the two of you to the back of the building where the fire escape sat. He let you climb down first as he followed behind. The night air was already starting to turn cool, and most of the town had gone to sleep for the night, nothing to be heard except for the commotion still going on over at the saloon. Once you made it down, you kept close to the building as you peeked around the corner, luckily the streets were mostly empty.

"You gotta horse?" The man asked.

"No," you shook your head, "The stable usually keeps a few in the corral at night, I'll see about rustling one up."

"Nah, too risky. Too many damn buildings 'round there. You'll get caught before you clear the fence," he said sternly.

You stammered, shrugging, "Maybe so, but I can't make it anywhere without a horse, mister."

He nodded and stood there for a minute in silence, staring at you as if he was thinking about something. He looked around before turning back to you, letting out a breath that quickly turned into vapor in the cool, night air.

"Ride with me then," he said.

Your lip curled slightly, you were obviously a bit apprehensive about this after what had just happened. He obviously noticed this when he held his hands up and took a step back.

"Look, I've gotta camp up the road, me and some other folks. You don't gotta say yeah, but you can have somewhere warm to stay the night. If you try to take off with one of them horses, you're gonna get yourself in a mess of trouble," he said, pulling his hands back down to his sides.

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and unlike with Jack, there was no nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you not to go. Instead, there was just a sense of safety, and something was telling you that you could trust this man for whatever reason.

You thought about it for a moment and finally nodded your head slowly, "Okay.. Let's go."

He gave you a nod before he whistled, calling to his horse that was nearby. I'm only took a moment for a dapple grey filly to come trotting up to the both of you out of the darkness, snorting and nudging at the man with Her head.

He grabbed a hold of her reins and patted her on the neck, "Hey there, girl," he said gently.

He pressed his foot into the stirrup before pulling himself up into the saddle on her back. You followed suit as he held out his hand, you grabbed onto it tightly as he hoisted you up to sit behind him. You sighed as you leaned forward into him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he spurred the animal quickly to get her moving. She soon picked up the pace and you were galloping out of town, the wind at your back as the countryside began passing you by.

You pulled your head up from the man's back, leaning up a little more, "You never told me your name!" You said in a louder tone, making sure he could hear you over the sound of the horse's hooves thundering against the earth beanth you.

He leaned his head back slightly, "Arthur.. Arthur Morgan. What's yours?"

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you called back to him.

"Nice to meet'cha, miss (Y/L/N)," he said, snapping the reins of the horse.

"And you as well, Mister Morgan," you said with a small smile before leaning your head back down to him, preparing yourself for the ride back to camp.