Imagine you hired an obscenely drunk Union soldier in a saloon to kill your husband. He manages to accomplish the deed by removing the bullets from your husband’s gun through a sleight of hand trick before challenging him to a duel. This is somewhat impressive but what is more impressive is his strong work ethic, ingenuity, Irish accent, subtle chivalry and big brown eyes. You marry him and move onto the 15 acres of semi-arid land on the edge of the Chihuahuan Desert he stubbornly wants to farm. He wants to name your firstborn daughter after his cavalry horse in the Civil War and your firstborn son after his commanding officer. He calls you widow woman as a term of endearment. He’s a good shot, he’s a good cattleman, a great husband and a subpar father. But what else can you ask from a man who lost his entire family in the Famine and came to this country alone at the age of 14?
Imagine you are a former Union soldier. You are 22 years old. You were only 19 when you enlisted, an Irish immigrant who worked in a livery stable in Cleveland until the outbreak of the war. You fought valiantly. You survived. In lieu of wages, you accepted a parcel of land in New Mexico territory. You’ve never had anything that was truly your own. Except for, perhaps, your horse. You arrive in New Mexico for the first time in your uniform, your horse goes lame the second you step onto your parcel, it’s so dry and rocky and red and you do not think it’s arable. You have to put down your horse. She dies with her head in your lap and you cry so hard you think you’ll die with her. When you’re done giving her a wake, knowing you have no ability to bury her, you begin walking in the direction of Las Cruces. Maybe you can sell this cursed land. Maybe you can get a job. First, a toast to Lula, the mare, the closest thing to family you have had in this country.
You’re seeing double by the time a little woman with an appraising expression approaches you. She is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, perhaps even better in double. A little older than you. Long, dark wavy hair that cascades over her shoulders, a perfect round face, a warm brown complexion and the most troubled eyes you have ever seen on a woman. What is most miraculous is that she wants to talk to you. You, drunk, sunburnt, covered in dust, the blood of your horse soaked into your pant leg. She motions to your pistol. She says she will pay you to do a job, pay you handsomely, enough to buy another horse. She says her husband is rich, he enticed her away from her family when she was very young, he holds her captive in his hacienda, he hurts her. He must be killed so that she can return to her sisters and live without fear. You will do it, you must do it. You do not care how much of the story is factual. You do not care if she intends to have the sheriff string you up after the deed is done. You do not care if she cannot pay the money she promised. You would do anything to remove the sorrow from her eyes. You kill her husband and sleep fine afterwards.
You do not buy that horse. You stay in the hacienda while she is out selling the bits and pieces of her husband’s life. You meet her sisters when they come, you help her pack away the pieces of her life so that she may start anew. You tell her of your own plans to start anew, of the patch of rocky soil that is your own. She tells you she grew up on land like that, tells you that it has always been her dream to work it. When her sisters leave for the mountains, she leaves with you.
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so we’ve got vio saying something hurtful and reader being silent… how about reader saying something hurtful back? maybe they snap back at vio by saying no one’s every going to truly love his egotistical ass, not even them? :DDD
Winter nights fell fast, all the mismatched scenes that needed to be shot were swiftly wrapped up so the cast and staff could return home in time before the impending snowstorm. Dressing room completely empty save for Vio and you, the alone time was much appreciated — since you'd rather not have any witnesses around for when your patience ultimately wore thin.
"You wouldn't believe how stupid you looked, honestly, he wasn't interested in you at all."
That was the umpteenth snide remark you'd been subjected to in the past hour. You weren't sure if it was because Vio was obsessed with all the little details of every interaction you had, or just because he was bored. It didn't matter, actually, it was driving you insane either way.
You hummed — noncommittal — stuffed more things into his bag as quickly as you could; anything for the sweet relief of getting your job done and booking it. Clearly, Vio didn't appreciate your lacklustre response, because you noticed him perk up from the corner of your eye. A three second pause, observing you, before dealing the last blow.
"Hey," he opened his mouth and you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for whatever he was adamant on spewing next, "who could ever love someone like you?"
You span around. "What?"
"Was I not clear enough?" Vio raised a brow. "Who could love someone like you?"
"Vio, you did not just say that to me," you exhaled, voice shaking, "you of all people didn't."
"Huh?"
You'd crossed the room before you could mentally step back and reason with yourself, hands fisted in the fabric of Vio's shirt and pulling him up to meet your glare. "Coming from the most egotistical piece of shit around," you spat, "you know it doesn't mean anything, right?"
His eyes widened, and for the first time, he had nothing to retort with. Radio silence, Vio's brow twitched and you'd dare say he looked hurt. Really, you should've stopped there, considering your career rested in his palms and he could end your contract whenever he saw fit. Yet, you were fed up of sucking it up and just taking it — you couldn't help yourself.
"All you are is your pretty face." You let him go, and he fell back onto the sofa limply. "With your shit attitude, you're the one no one can love," you made your way to the door, dry laughter resounding, "even I'm fucking sick of you."
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Still dealing with art block and was looking for some drawing ideas when I remembered this meme going around. I thought it would fit Tuna and Spider perfectly! XDDD
Original meme below the cut! :0👇
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O, Death
I submitted this to an art zine but unfortunately didn't get in, so I'm posting it here! I hope you enjoy <3
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