#My stagecoach ladies and gentlemen

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too. 

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.”

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’. 

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons. 

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be. 

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man. 

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was. 

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

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| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[leviabeat]

The story of Volbeat’s Outlaw Gentlemen & Shady Ladies album

By Dave Everley | Metal Hammer | June 2013

Full Article ⬇️

Born from the ashes of death metal band Dominus, Volbeat’s mix of metal and rock’n’roll caught the attention of the world – and Metallica frontman James Hetfield in particular. As the Danes geared up to release their fifth album, Outlaw Gentlemen & Shady Ladies, in 2013, mainman Michael Poulsen told Hammer about the personal loss that drove the band.

Michael Poulsen has a tattoo on the back of his hand that reads ‘Little E’. It’s one of countless pieces of ink on a body that’s no stranger to the tattooist’s needle, and like all the other designs that adorn every square inch of visible flesh below the Volbeat frontman’s neckline, there’s a story behind it.

“We were on tour with Metallica, and one day James Hetfield comes in our dressing room looking for me,” he says. “He said, ‘Where’s Little E?’ Our drummer, Jon, went, ‘Who’s Little E?’ And James said, ‘Little E. Little Elvis, man’.”

Up until this point, Michael had been engrossed in a film on his laptop, headphones on, oblivious to the fact that the Metallica frontman was hunting for him. The next thing he knew, Hetfield was looming over him, brandishing a gift for the singer of his new favourite band.

“He’d bought a painting of Elvis and written on the back, ‘To Little E, here’s Big E, with love and respect, James Hetfield.’ That was a really cool gift. So when I came home, I got ‘Little E’ tattooed here. Why not? That’s what tattoos are about: stories. I want something to remember.”

That he says this with no small degree of pride shouldn’t come as a surprise. His band have spent 12 years carving out a place for themselves as the missing link between Elvis Presley and Metallica, channeling the outlaw spirits of both of those iconic acts into a gas-guzzling noise that distills metal, rockabilly, country and western and shit-kicking rock’n’roll.

The hard work has paid off. Their record label are expecting the album to go straight to No.1 in Denmark, while a series of electrifying live shows and festival appearances have sent their profile skyrocketing in Britain and America. The patronage of the world’s biggest metal band hasn’t done them any harm, either.

“It was inspiring to see how Metallica worked,” says Michael. “I had Metallica posters in room as a kid, even before I had my first guitar. And then, years later, you’re on the road with them. I had to ask myself, ‘Is this real?’”

You can read plenty about Volbeat in the title of their fifth album, Outlaw Gentlemen & Shady Ladies. It’s a phrase that evokes another time altogether, an era when elegant lawbreakers were the rock stars of the day. It’s a celebration of the bad men (and women) of the Old West and the old-school metal bands who influenced the young Michael Poulsen to form his first band, Dominus, back in the early 90s.

Today, sitting in his management’s office on one of Copenhagen’s main drags, the frontman looks every inch the rebel: greased back black hair, black T-shirt, black jeans, black shoes. His speaking voice is low and quiet, a world away from the wolverine howl of his singing voice.

“I’d just isolate myself in my living room, in total darkness,” he says of the writing process for the new album. “I’d watch a lot of Italian spaghetti westerns – Once Upon A Time In The West, those kind of films. Sometimes it’s just about the right feeling – the scenery, the lines, the dusty look. I have my own soundtrack when I see those kind of pictures.”

These cinematic influences paid off. Volbeat’s new album is as vivid and colourful as the tattoos on their singer’s arms. A parade of characters march through its songs, some real, some fictional, some supernatural. The galloping Pearl Hart is the tale of a real-life 19th century stagecoach robber; The Nameless One sets Tarot cards, time travel and a sinister, cane-carrying antagonist to an steel-plated backdrop; Doc Holiday celebrates one of the more marginal characters of the Wild West, lacing its old school metal groove with some nifty banjos.

The most personal track on the album, Dead But Rising, takes a very real figure as its starting point and turns it into something more spiritual. Jørn Poulsen, Michael’s father, was an amateur boxer and a fan of Elvis Presley, and he passed a love of both onto his son. When he died four years ago, his son promised to make a pilgrimage to Elvis’s home, Graceland, in his memory.

“I was driving to Mississippi, where Elvis was born, when the navigation in the rental car just went out,” says Michael. “Then I noticed an eagle that had been following the car for a while. I said, ‘What is it with that eagle? Is my father trying to tell me something?’ I got emotional about it and I decided to follow the eagle. And that’s what Dead But Rising is all about – it’s about me, today, trying to reach out for that eagle. I said, ‘When I come home, I’m gonna get that eagle tattooed on my hand as a memory.”

He nods to another pair of tattoos on his hands: one is an eagle, the other is his dad’s name. “My dad had this eagle tattooed across his chest,” he says with quiet pride.

Like everything on the album, there’s a clarity and muscle to the track. This is in part down to new recruit Rob Caggiano, who co-produced the album with longtime Volbeat associate Jacob Hansen. Until very recently, Caggiano was a member of Anthrax. Then, in January, it was announced that he was quitting the thrash titans. His reasons were vague, though he admitted that “Anthrax was never a creative outlet for me.” A month later, he announced that he would be parlaying his production gig with Volbeat into a full time job as guitarist.

Today, Rob's cautious when it comes to the subject of his old band versus his new one. “There’s been a bit of a misconception,” he says. “When I put out the press release about leaving Anthrax, it wasn’t really about me wanting to stop touring. I thought it’d take a little time to figure out my next move as a guitar player, and that the producing thing would be the perfect way to bridge that gap. A lot of people read into that the wrong way.”

Is Volbeat a permanent thing?

“Yes,” he says, no hesitation.

It’s ironic that a man who left an outfit he claims he felt “stifled” in Anthrax ended up joining Volbeat. Without actually saying it, Michael Poulsen makes it clear that he’s the boss of this band. “I write all the material,” he says firmly at one point, while bassist Anders Kjølholm and drummer Jon Larsen are noticeable by their absence today. But then every band needs its leader, and Poulsen is Volbeat’s James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich rolled into one.

You have to admire his ambition and his will to succeed. Denmark is hardly a hotbed of metal: aside from Lars Ulrich, the only other artists of note to emerge from this small, damp but utterly charming country were Mercyful Fate and their sometime leader King Diamond. Indeed the latter even crops up on one track, the characteristically theatrical Room 24, a song based on an experience Michael had when he awoke in a hotel room in the middle of the night to find himself unable to move and feeling like someone – or something – was sitting on his chest, the latter presence voiced by the King himself.

“Michael is a fan of Mercyful Fate – he even has a Mercyful Fate tattoo,” says King, speaking from his home in Dallas. “I met him a couple of years ago, and we became very good friends very quickly. He approached me to sing on the track, and said, ‘It would be super cool if you were interested.’ I don’t really do that for anyone any more, my voice is very difficult to handle for other people. Michael’s very Danish, like I am – does things his way.”

The presence of King Diamond tells you as much about where Michael Poulsen is coming from as all the quiffs and Elvis tattoos. For all their retro stylings, they’ve got a metal heart – the frontman started his musical career as a teenager in the death metal band Dominus, who released four albums during the 90s, the third of which was titled Vol.Beat (a portmanteau of the words ‘Volume’ and ‘Beat’). Michael still cites Slayer as a major inspiration, alongside Mercyful Fate and, of course, their unofficial mentors in Metallica.

“When I was growing up, my dad and mum played a lot of old records – Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry,” says Michael. “I love that stuff – it’s a drug somehow. My own record collection growing up was metal. But I listen to a lot of different styles of music. If something moves you, I don’t care what it is.”

Elvis Presley, and James Hetfield, would be proud.

Originally published in Metal Hammer issue 244

[microsoft-bubbles-screensaver]

(The pearl clan recording a singing video)

Irida: Someone came in late. Who wasn't ready?

Lian: Me.

Ingo: Me.

Gaeric: Me.

Palina: Me.

Calaba: Me.

Irida: All of you?!

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 15: Diamondback

August 1882

Drury’s Crossing, Oregon

They waited, watching the Francis Stone stagecoach approaching, knowing it carried a nice hefty delivery of gold from the refinery in Portland headed down to California for…whichever greedy bastard in his gilded palace out east owned it, Arthur guessed.  Didn’t much care.  They were all more or less alike, so he’d happily relieve them of some of the absolutely crushing burden of their wealth. Dutch spoke first, looking over at Arthur.  “So when the stagecoach is stopped…”

“I hold ‘em at gunpoint and keep my mouth shut.  You do the talking.  Yeah, I get it.”

Dutch leaned over and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.  “Why so surly?  You know you’re not much of a talker.  Besides,” he gave Arthur a bit of a grin, “big as you’ve gone and grown up on us, why, that speaks louder than any words, don’t it?  You’ll be an absolute terror when you finally fill out, son.  We need to get Bessie and Susan feeding you more.”

He had to hope that day happened, because he was getting tired of feeling a bit like a scarecrow these past couple of years, tall but skinny.  He’d stopped growing upwards, but the growth outwards to complete it just hadn’t really happened yet.  The idea of being big enough to be a terror, though…that held merit to it.  He’d been used to being little, the one people could push around, for so long.  It had made him hard and scrappy and pissed off, sure, and that had carried him far.  It had let him survive.  But being able to tell people to go to hell and have them listen with the respect of the physical power behind it, though, that idea held a certain comfort.  Not having to fight for everything?  Sounded like a little slice of heaven to him.  

Not to mention Dutch was making noise about bigger notions.  Banks.  Trains, even.  Hosea still shot the ideas down, pointing out that the two of them were talkers, and Arthur was still young.  The numbers just weren’t there. 

Hosea was a scrapper, and a damn crooked genius, and a hell of a shot.  But he wasn’t a big man.  Dutch was a big man, but he’d managed to make that into its own kind of presence.  He called attention to himself with those dark good looks and sheer height, and then he kept it through the force of words, which his size somehow made all the more commanding.  He bent people to his will without the need for force, or even its strongly implied threat.  Arthur would never be like that.  Never that smart, never that charismatic.  Muscle was all he’d ever have going for him, he supposed, so he might as well learn to use that and turn that into his own kind of presence. 

Seeing Dutch’s signal, he tugged the black kerchief up over his nose and mouth, and nudged Hector to head down the hill to where the stagecoach had been stopped by that convenient fallen tree.  “Now,” Dutch said, as cheerfully as if this was some Sunday picnic, “ladies, gentlemen, we have no desire to harm anyone.  All we’re looking to do is liberate a little of an unfair distribution of wealth, you understand?  No need for any unpleasantness.  Otherwise the talents of my associate here,” he gestured over his shoulder to where Arthur, recognizing his part, brandished his revolver and did his ridiculous best to somehow convey a scowl with only his eyes showing, “might become necessary.  But I’d sooner we conclude our business and let you be on your way.”  

The trunk of gold was far heavier than Arthur expected, and he and Hosea lugged it into the trees, doing their best to not show the people in the stagecoach what an effort it cost them.  They half-dropped the thing as soon as they were safely out of sight.  “My back’s getting too Goddamn old for this,” Hosea grumbled, panting, resting his hands on his knees.  “Trust Dutch to come up with a bigger score than we expected.”    

Arthur could only nod, doing the same, trying to catch his breath.  “We’re gonna need to put it on all three horses, no doubt.”  But leaving Dutch by himself wouldn’t hold, so they hurried back, just in time to see Dutch smiling at a young woman in a fancy blue dress that Arthur would bet cost more than anything he’d ever bought in his life, handing her back a ring from where she’d thrust it under Dutch’s nose, practically quivering with nerves.  He reached out and patted the back of her hand gently, and then pushed her hand back towards her.  “Ma belle madame.  Please, have your diamond back.  We did say we wanted to avoid unpleasantness, and that includes taking personal things.  See, as I said, our quarrel isn’t with you.”

 “Cut the sermon short, Dutch,” Hosea said nearly under his breath, “and let’s get gone.”

Dutch gave a half-nod of acknowledgement at that. Arthur could practically see the woman in blue relaxing, looking at Dutch with a sense of wonder where there had been fear only moments before.  No, he’d never manage that.  Not in all his days.  Terrifying people was probably all he’d ever manage, and Dutch clearly hoped for it, so he supposed he might as well get good at it.  

[headcanonsandmore]

Gentry and Gentlemen,  Chapter One

Summary:  Hermione Granger has just begun a new position of governess at Ottery Manor in the Devon Countryside, a world away from her upbringing in Regency-era London. There she meets a redheaded blacksmith man named Ron Weasley. Sparks may just fly between the middle class city woman and the working-class country man with a genuine and heartfelt charm all his own. (Jane Austen Romione AU)

Tagging: @hillnerd @nagemeikenu @acnelli @aimless-twig @femaledoubleagent @thehufflepuffpixie @adenei @abradystrix

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                   Read on FFN.                                      Read on AO3.

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The Regency period is full of stories about dashing military officers and their lovers, titled men and women, and the romantic misadventures of the landed gentry. Almost always of young ladies of the gentry and their aristocratic suitors. Of money, land, and upper class goings-on. The sort of stories that have become synonymous with high romance, retold countless times since.

This is not one of those stories.

 *

 The stagecoach trundled along the country lane. It was the middle of April, and the Devon countryside was quickly losing any vestiges of the winter. Trees were growing green, bees were pollinating all manner of plants, and the lane was fast becoming dusty due to the lack of rain.

‘Oh, really, good sir!’ giggled a lady, her aristocratic manner evident in her voice. ‘You are a delight!’

‘My pleasure, good lady,’ replied the gentleman, a large tall man with a similar way of speaking. ‘I find myself inclined to be such when in the company of such an amiable person as yourself.’

There was a loud crack, as one of the stagecoach wheels hit a hole in the lane.

‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen!’ exclaimed the coachman from above. ‘The roads have not been repaired after the winter rains!’

‘You’d think the locals would have done something about it,’ complained the gentleman to his lady friend. ‘But I suppose that is to be expected of being so far out from respectable society.’

The woman sat across from the couple stared out of the window, a slight frown briefly appearing on her face. Her fellow passengers did not notice this, and had made no attempt at conversation with her for the entire journey from Exeter. But she was somewhat glad of that.

She was a young woman, in her mid-twenties and, unlike the pair sat across from her, was not wearing the latest fashions of aristocratic society. Her dress was well-worn but functional, as befitted her position. Her hat was smart was simple but sturdy. Her face was impassive, yet strong, and her eyes - a dark brown- were piercingly intelligent. A parasol, far from new, was placed sensibly across her lap. Her shoes, polished but faded from use, were the sort worn by practical working women since time immemorial. However, in contrast to all this was her hair; an enormous bushy mane that strained against the many pins she had used to keep it in place. It was the sort of hair that you couldn’t help but notice, and it was perhaps for that reason that the young lady had chosen to keep her hat on in the coach despite the heat.  

‘Final stop; Ottery St Catchpole!’

The coach trundled to a halt, and the coachman (whose name was Mr Jones) climbed down, pulling the small set of steps out from under the coach door. The gentleman helped his lady companion down, and the two of them sauntered away with their bags without so much as a thank you to the coachman.

Sighing to himself, the coachman turned.

‘Er… my apologies, Mr Jones,’ came a voice from within the coach. ‘Could you help me down, please?’

‘Of course, miss,’ he said, before helping the young lady down to the ground. ‘Allow me to help you with your bags as well.’

‘Thank you.’

As the coachman pulled her bags out from the luggage racks, the young lady stared down the street. The gentleman and his lady friend were laughing loudly to themselves outside one of the shops.

‘They were awfully rude, weren’t they?’

‘Afraid so, Miss,’ replied Mr Jones. ‘Many from London feel that Devon might as well be on another planet.’

‘I hope you won’t judge me by their behaviour.’

‘Oh, of course not, Miss…er… my apologies, my memory isn’t what it once was…’

‘Granger.’ Hermione Granger said, giving a small curtsy. ‘And thank you for keeping me company on such a pleasant journey, Mr Jones.’

‘My pleasure, Miss Granger,’  Mr Jones said, tipping his cap. ‘I’m surprised that such a pleasant young lady like yourself is travelling all alone, truth be told.’

‘Well, you see, I’m on my way to a new place of employment.’ Hermione said. ‘Ottery Manor; perhaps you know it?’

‘Oh, yeah, Miss. Very prominent local gentry.’

‘I am due to take up the post of governess for the young children,’ Hermione elaborated.  

‘A governess, you say?’ Mr Jones said, looking very surprised.

‘Yes, I recently achieved my qualification, you see.’

‘Very impressive, Miss. Er… just a word of warning, if you please?’

‘Whatever for?’

‘Well…’ Mr Jones looked rather uncomfortable. ‘You are… that is…’

Hermione sighed. She had been expecting this.

‘Mr Jones, I am well aware that the colour of my skin is perhaps not what the locals are used to.’

‘Oh, no, miss; that’s not what I meant!’ Mr Jones replied, shaking his head quickly. ‘Good gracious, no! Plymouth isn’t that far away, and we’re used to seeing people from all over the world popping through. It’s just… the gentry round here… aren’t quite so relaxed about it as the ordinary people are.’

Hermione smiled. Mr Jones was a sweet old man who clearly wanted to warn her as best he could, even if he didn’t quite have the terminology correct.

‘Thank you, Mr Jones; you are very kind.’

‘My pleasure, miss.’

‘Could you… point me in the direction of the manor house?’

Mr Jones nodded, pointing along up the narrow winding street of Ottery St Catchpole.

‘You can’t miss it; the big house on the hill.’

‘Thank you.’

As Hermione made her way through the main street, she was aware of just how much of a different world this was to London, where she had lived most of her life. For one thing, people walked far slower and had a relaxed attitude in their comings and goings. One could certainly tell that the pace of life was slower.

Within a few minutes, Hermione had left the village, and headed along the country road up towards the manor house. The lack of rain had meant that dust was virtually inescapable, but Hermione preferred it to the mud she had been concerned about. She wouldn’t have wanted to make a first appearance with her best clothes dirtied. That would be most distressing. She, after all, was being entrusted with the care of the children of the local landed family, and ought to be presentable in a way that acknowledged that responsibility she was being granted.

Her stomach began to squirm, as her nerves became agitated. She had largely avoided thinking too much about it when she was travelling but, now that she was so close to the manor, she couldn’t help worrying. What if she wasn’t qualified for this? What if the other staff members didn’t like her? What if she-

‘NEIIIIIGHHHH!’

Hermione’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted, as a large horse rounded the corner of the lane, galloping as fast as it could, and heading right towards her. It was tall, brown, and looked startled, its eyes wide.

Hermione’s bags slipped from her hands as she stumbled backwards, but the horse was already barely seven feet away. With a cry, Hermione tripped over the uneven ground, her hat flying off her head.

The horse reared up on its hind legs, and Hermione found herself frozen on the ground. Hoofs began to fall.

‘WHOOOAAA!’

Suddenly, the horse was no longer there.

Coming to her senses, Hermione pulled herself to her feet, and collected her bags together.

A man, roughly her age, was stood with the horse a few feet away. The first thing of notice was his height, at least a foot taller than Hermione. His head was framed with short, red hair. Freckles covered every inch of skin that was on show. He was wearing a rough work shirt that was tied up to his elbows, and a pair of trousers that were slightly too short on him. A pair of tough work boots, that had clearly seen better days, completed the ensemble.

‘Sssshhhhh, Tiff….’ He soothed, stroking the horse’s neck slowly. ‘It’s okay, girl… no-one’s going to hurt you…’

‘Good grief!’

Another man had joined him.

‘Good thing you’re such a fast runner, mate!’

‘I try my best,’ replied the redheaded man. ‘Good thing we managed to catch her before she reached the village.’

As the horse was led away by the other man, the redhead turned and, spotting Hermione, ran forward.

‘Miss, are you alright?’ he exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of her. There was a splodge of dirt on his long nose. ‘Tiffany got spooked earlier, and we only just caught up with her. I’m so sorry; are you hurt?’

‘I’m… I’m fine, thank you,’ Hermione said, as a pair of bright blue eyes stared down at her. ‘Although I think my hat must have blown away in the wind.’

The redhead man looked around, and pointed up into the branches of a nearby tree.

‘You mean that one, with the nice bow?’

‘Yes, but-’

The man was up the tree in a flash, and was soon leaping down next to her again, holding her hat.

‘There we go,’ he said, handing it over. ‘Maybe a little dusty, but that’s the heatwave for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said, placing the hat on top of her bushy hair. The two of them began to walk up the lane. ‘I appreciate your concern, Mr…’

‘Weasley,’ the redhead said, smiling. ‘But there’s enough of the Weasleys around here, so you can just call me Ron. Everyone else does; it’d be confusing otherwise.’

‘I… I don’t think that would be appropriate.’ Hermione said, as she bent down to pick up her bags.

‘Why? We’re all people, aren’t we?’ Mr Weasley replied. ‘Oh, let me help you.’

‘Yes, but I’m…’ Hermione stammered, as her load was lightened considerably. ‘Well, I’m starting at the Manor as the new governess.’

‘Oh, you’re the teacher everyone’s been gossiping about!’ Ron said, cheerily. ‘Miss… Granger, if my memory’s correct?

‘W-why, yes!’ Hermione exclaimed, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed. ‘Er…gossip, you say?’

‘Yes; the scullery-maids have been talking about nothing else for the past week,’ Mr Weasley replied, keenly. ‘Well, that and the summer fete. But, yes; a posh lady governess from up-country coming down to our little neck of the woods! They’ll be delighted to meet you!’

Hermione felt her cheeks flush.

‘I’m not nearly as posh as all that, Mr Weasley,’ she said, primly. ‘So I hope I don’t ruin their expectations when they see me.’

‘Why? You sound posh to me.’

‘No… I… I mean… well, look at me.’

The redhead stared at her in confusion, and Hermione felt she needed to elaborate.

‘Surely they were expecting someone less… exotic?’

Mr Weasley blinked.

‘You are from London, aren’t you? That’s pretty exotic.’

Hermione found herself suddenly laughing. Not the usual polite laughs she had been taught as a girl, but a full, unrestrained laugh, full of accompanying snorts.

‘London… exotic?!’

Mr Weasley grinned at her, his cheeks dimpling under his freckles.

‘If you’re born and raised in Devon, it is,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘Besides, I bet that’s the first time you’ve laughed in a good long while.’

‘Why… yes, it is,’ Hermione replied, smiling. ‘However could you tell?’

‘I hear tell of the aristo’s who take the stagecoach routes down from London. I gather they aren’t much in the way of humorous conversation?’

‘You would be correct about that. But where do you hear that from? Mr Jones the coachman?’

‘Old Jonesey? Oh, yes; lovely old soul. I’m the… well, the blacksmith and the odd-job man for the estate, so I’m in and out of the village a lot.’

Hermione nodded, trying not to notice how well the redheads shirt seemed to fit him. She supposed blacksmiths were all rather… muscley.

Ottery Manor stretched out before them. It was a double-storied building, with fine windows and a pair of thick oak doors. The house was arranged around a central courtyard, so that two wings of the house stretched out in front. A small fountain marked the middle of the courtyard, and the centre of the house was covered in fine ivy. Grounds stretched out around the house in all directions, full of trees and well-trimmed lawns. Hermione could make out some distant greenhouses and vegetable gardens on the periphery.  

‘You like the ivy?’ Mr Weasley enquired, pointing at the plant as they walked up the main pathway towards the house. ‘Me and my brother Bill -he works in the gardens- pruned them just last week; rather a nice effect, eh?’

‘Yes,’ Hermione replied. ‘Are all your siblings employed as members of staff here?’

‘No.’ the redhead said. ‘Percy -he’s the intellectual one- he works in Plymouth in an office. Fred and George -they’re the youngest brothers aside from me- work in the post office a few villages over.’

‘Any sisters?’

‘Just Ginny. She’s the youngest. Mum did want her to get a good job as a scullery maid, but Ginny’s always been more outdoorsy. She works in the gardens most of the time, but she sometimes helps me and Charlie in the forge.’

‘Charlie is… the main blacksmith aside from you, then?’

Mr Weasley laughed.

‘Yes, he’s always been good with animals, so he handles the shoe-fitting. I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, myself; that’s why I’m the odd job man as well.’

‘There is nothing wrong with being multi-skilled,’ Hermione said, earnestly. ‘Most men in London would love to have a wide array of talents.’

Mr Weasley laughed again, his cheeks dimpling again.

By this point, they had reached the courtyard but, instead of heading for the front door, Mr Weasley lead her around one wing of the house and into a yard of sorts. Hermione could hear horses neighing nearby, and presumed that the stables weren’t that far away.

‘You’d best come through the servants entrance,’ Mr Weasley said, leading her up the rear side of the wing and stopping before a door, which was left open. ‘Not a good idea to get on the bad side of the footmen on your first day. Especially the head footman; he’s a right killjoy about these things.’

‘Well, I am a servant, technically.’

‘I know,’ Mr Weasley said, sighing. ‘But, if I had my way, we wouldn’t have to worry about separate entrances. We’re the people who actually keep this place going, not the aristo’s using this place like a retreat for when the season ends in London.’

Hermione felt rather shocked at Mr Weasley’s words, but she opted not to say anything. She could certainly understand his frustration, but she had never met someone who was so open about it.

‘The gentry often have friends and relatives down from London, then?’

‘Yes, but you probably won’t have to worry about them,’ Mr Weasley said, encouragingly. ‘They tend to stay away from the children if they can help it. This time of year, most of them are living the high life in London society; they shouldn’t be arriving here for another couple months.’

‘Well, I lived in London most of my life, but I already rather like it here in Devon.’

The redhead turned to look at her.

‘Really? Why?’

‘Well, judging from what I’ve seen so far, it’s quieter, for one thing. The pace of life in the city is far too extreme. Out here, you can hear the birds in the trees, see the bees in the hedgerows, smell the…’

‘Muck on the fields?’

Hermione laughed.

‘You’re very amusing, Mr Weasley.’

‘I try,’ the redhead said, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. ‘Not very often I get the opportunity to make a woman laugh without making a prat of myself first.’

‘Oh, I-I’m sure all the local girls adore you.’

‘With five older brothers? I barely get a look in,’ Mr Weasley chuckled, his ears going a little pink. ‘But, thank you, miss.’

‘My… my pleasure, Mr Weasley.’

‘Mr Weasley, I trust you haven’t been frightening the new governess.’

A man had stepped out from the servants entrance. Judging by his dress, he was a footman of some description. His hair was surprisingly greasy, and he had a long, hooked nose. His voice gave an indication that he had taken elocution lessons to disguise a midlands accent.

‘Oh, no, sir!’ Hermione exclaimed, as the two of them deposited her bags near the door. ‘Mr Weasley came to my assistance when my hat blew astray on the front drive.’

Mr Weasley grinned at the footman.

‘Wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t do so, sir.’

‘Mr Weasley… you are not a gentleman, and never will be. You are a commoner, and you would do well to remember it,’ the footman said, looking unkindly up at Ron over his long hooked nose. ‘Now, Miss Granger, if you would accompany me this way…’

As Hermione followed the footman, she happened to look back over her shoulder. Mr Weasley caught her eye, and mouthed “what an oily-haired git, eh?”. Hermione bit down on her lower lip to stop herself laughing.

 *

 On reflection, Hermione was rather embarrassed that she’d been so nervous about her first meeting with her employers. The lord of the manor seemed disinterested the entire time, while his wife asked a few questions about Hermione’s teaching qualification. In fact, Hermione spent most of the meeting nodding politely while the lady discussed the difficulty in finding a good governess in the local area, and that they appreciated that Hermione had come such a long way.

She was then escorted by the head footman back to the servants entrance, all the while wondering if all lords and ladies were so… underwhelming as people.

‘Thank you, but where should I-’

But the footman had already walked away.

Hermione looked around, her nerves building again. She didn’t know her way around, and she hadn’t even been told where her lodgings would be. Maybe she should-

‘All finished?’

Mr Weasley had poked his head through the door.

‘Y-yes,’ Hermione said. ‘But… well, where should I put all my…’

‘Oh, I’ll help you,’ Mr Weasley replied, cheerfully. ‘I can’t go into the women’s quarters, but I can let the scullery maids know that you’ve arrived.’

Turning, he knocked on a door.

‘Parvati? Lavender? The new governess is here; can you help her move her things into the women’s dormitory?’

There was a loud squeal from inside the room.

Rolling his eyes, Mr Weasley opened the door, and poked his head around it.

‘Oy; are you two finished?’

A few moments later, two women appeared from behind the door. Both of them dressed in the same simple uniform, and both roughly the same age as Hermione. They also both seemed to be very giggly.

‘Hello, Miss Granger!’ said one of them, who seemed to be of Indian descent. ‘Nice to meet you; I’m Parvati, and this is Lavender.’

Lavender, a girl with blonde hair that was pulled up under her bonnet, smiled.

‘Sorry we couldn’t meet you at the gates,’ Parvati said. ‘Me and Lav got a bit… distracted.’

There was a snicker from Mr Weasley. Lavender laughed, and slapped him playfully on the arm.

‘Anyway,’ Parvati continued, and Hermione was confused as to why the girl’s face had flushed at Mr Weasley’s comment. ‘We’ll help you take your bags up to the dorm.’

‘I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble-’

‘Oh, it’s no trouble,’ Lavender said. ‘Besides, we never get to talk to anyone from London; do you know what the most recent styles are?’

‘Er…’ Hermione trailed off, as the two girls hurried along the corridor. She was about to follow, when she realised that the tall redhead was still there. She turned to face him again.

‘Thank you for all your help, Mr Weasley,’ Hermione said, giving a quick curtsy. ‘I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.’

‘As am I to make yours, Miss Granger,’ the redhead replied, his freckled cheeks dimpling once again. ‘Although, like I say, “Ron” is fine. There’s half a dozen Mr Weasleys here, so it just saves time.’

‘In that case, I will call you that,… Ron.’

The redhead grinned, before leaving to run across the wild grass nearby in the direction of the stables. The shirt Ron was wearing was, indeed, rather tight on him, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice how his muscles strained against the fabric as he ran, the sunlight reflecting beautifully off his red hair.

Hermione smiled, as she turned to follow Parvati and Lavender along the corridor. Ottery St Catchpole was shaping up to be a rather wonderful place to live.

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Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you liked it! If you want to keep up-to-date with the series, please subscribe on AO3 or FFN, or ask me to add you to the tag list on Tumblr.

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt 3

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Part 2 & Masterlist

Part 4

Word count: 1890

Warnings: threat of domestic violence

Now on AO3 with added soft Morgan loving

The two of you ride in silence. The wagon wheels keep rolling. The pit in your stomach rolls along with them. Which is it going to be, gentlemen? Black or red?

He hasn’t bothered binding your wrists today. You can’t pretend like there’s any possibility of you attempting to escape; an anchor of lethargy has long since made its home in your chest.

The landscape begins to change rapidly as you descend into Lemoyne. The air thickens, choking you, the cries of seagulls filling your ears.

He hasn’t confided his intentions to you yet, but the ride is slow and heavy on both of your shoulders. Saint Denis or Van Horn - both were known for their ports.

"She can't go free. Not with the Pinkertons after us."

"I know. Don’t I goddamn know it...”

The bridge welcomes you with false joy. Fumes pollute the sky, horses clop over cobblestones, beggars call out for pennies from the sidewalks. You look on morosely as he steps off the carriage to speak with the mail man behind the counter. He checks a pocket watch you didn’t know he had and nods, thanking him before rejoining you.

Your lips are sewn shut, even as he rides the cart up to a saloon a couple of streets over. He helps you down, leading you inside wordlessly, paying for a room and a bath for you both. On autopilot, you follow the bath girl to the steaming water, Arthur’s assurances inaudible over your thoughts.

She tries and fails to make conversation with you. You’ve never hired help for a bath - you enjoy the rare splash of solitude too much, especially in the soft steam of hot water. You start to wonder when you last bathed as she scrubs soap into your hair. Usually your wounds aren’t fresh enough to sting.

She guides you to the room Arthur has rented. The bed looks sublimely soft. Even the evening sun gleaming through the windows is gentle and welcoming. You strip to your underclothes and crawl under the duvet, groaning as you fall asleep.

****

You wake up, surprised to find the bed empty. Turning your head, you spot Arthur in a chair, sketching in the leather bound journal you’ve found him writing in on more than one occasion.

He sets the book aside and walks up to the bed hesitantly. You move back, inviting him to sit. After all, his money has paid for this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. About all of this.”

You shake your head sleepily. “It’s my fault. When I heard the boys had caught a Van der Linde, I let curiosity get the better of me. I wasn’t supposed to be there, I just wanted to see the face of… of one of her murderers.”

You hum as fingers trace your face and neck. “Well, I’m still sorry for everything that happened after.”

You turn your head to kiss his palm, dismissing the hitch in his breathing. “At least it was with you.”

“Because being tied up is preferable in my company?”

“Something like that,” you laugh, smirking into your pillow. His hands lowers hesitantly to your shoulders. You shrug the duvet down, extending his reach. Hearing the bed move, you open your eyes finding his face next to you. Before you can change your mind, you press your lips against his with determination.

His grip tightens as you deepen the kiss, breaking away to kiss his neck as you tug on the buttons of his shirt. He shifts his weight to make it easier for you to push it off him before climbing carefully between your now exposed legs.

Your heart flutters as he kisses the crook of your neck, fingers still tracing your body as though committing them to memory. His boots clatter to the floor, his belt clinking as you tug on his trousers, eager to release him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says suddenly, his lids heavy as he searches your face. “We didn’t know then-”

“We know now,” you counter, your chest heaving with anticipation. “Do you still want to..?”

“It ain’t about what I want.”

“Then take me, cowboy,” you whisper into his mouth. “Anything, as long as we’re together.”

****

You groan. Something doesn’t feel right. You can feel heartburn building it’s way up into your throat and your stomach is twisting up a storm. A clatter of spurs across floorboards make you sit up.

“O’Driscolls. Downstairs.” Arthur is pulling his trousers up, slipping his arms into the suspenders as he peers down into the street. “We need to leave.”

“They ain’t gonna recognise me,” you mumble, sitting up. What is wrong with you? “I’ve passed them in the street before now and they have never said anything.”

“I’d rather not take the chance.” He gathers your clothes, throwing them at you as you dress slowly. “We overslept anyway. We were supposed to be at the docks for eight.”

“The docks?” Arthur takes over dressing you as you slow to a halt. “Arthur, where are we going?”

His lips press together as he hooks the back of a new dress he had brought from the tailors. Suddenly you’re feeling even more sick than you did before.

You slip out without seeing any familiar faces. The O’Driscolls Arthur saw must have only been passing through. He’s clearly nervous as he rides you both down to the docks, touching your hand, squeezing it, then letting it go before holding it again. You can’t think about what’s happening - your entire focus is spent on not throwing up.

A large ship is waiting to sail. Arthur helps you down, guiding you over to a young gentleman by boarding.

“We ain’t too late, are we?”

“No, sir! Thirty minutes til we set sail!”

“Great.” He pulls out a wad of cash. “A feller down by the stagecoach said you still had space?”

“For yourself, sir?”

You force yourself to take deep breaths. The ringing in your ears, the hot flush and cold sweats - you force yourself to swallow, trying to overcome the knot of nausea.

“For the lady.” Arthur is surprised when he turns to find you leaning against the railings. “Y/N, y’alright?”

“Do you have medical papers?”

He turns back to the man, his hand still on the small of your back. “What for?”

“If anyone is showing signs of ill health at or before the point of boarding, they cannot sail with us.”

"She’s fine. Her fiancé's waitin' on her."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it’s company policy. We can't allow anyone showing signs of ill health to board, especially if it’s contagious." Arthur scoffs loudly, but the boy is looking at you. Your curses are weak. "There's a doctor round the corner - if you're quick he might be able to help you."

"How much to get the lady onboard?" he asks, shuffling the money between his hands, shoving notes into the boy’s chest. "Fifty? A hundred?"

"Sir, I can't-"

"Two hundred?"

"Arthur, stop!" Your heart is ricocheting against your ribs. "Let's just… go to the doctor. Get a note like he said to say it ain't contagious and renegotiate."

Arthur gives the boy a dark look before shoving the money back into his bag. "Fine," he mutters darkly. "But you had better let us on!"

“As long as it ain’t contagious.” The boy wipes his brow in relief.

****

"Pregnant?"

You close your eyes as they leak down your cheeks.

"Yes, sir." He washes his hands in the small basin. "Newly so, but the fetus seems to be a strong one. Congratulations."

"Did you-?" Both of you look to Arthur who is squeezing the bridge of his nose so tightly his fingertips are white. "You do this on purpose, Y/N?"

"The mother doesn’t get much of a choice in all this-"

"Was I talkin' to you?" he snaps, eyes blazing. "Y/N?"

"Of course not, Arthur!"

"You playing me for a fool?"

Your stomach sinks. This was something else. This was the face of a murderer. "Arthur…"

"How much to get rid of it?" he demands, startling the doctor.

"I beg your p-"

"How much to get rid of it?"

"I don’t do that business here-"

Arthur whips out a pistol and points it at your stomach. "How much to deal with a gunshot wound, then?"

Blood drains from your face as you stare down the barrel of the gun, the doctor stammering wildly.

"I understand this may come as a bit of a shock-"

"A bit of a shock?" He pulls back the hammer, still glaring with white hot fury. "She needs to be boarding a ship now!"

“Arthur.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

“There’s nothing stopping a woman sailing whilst pregnant!”

“And when she gets to the other side with a baby?” he growls, eyes wild. “A baby and no family to support her? Then what?”

“Are you not travelling with her?”

“Arthur,” you choke.

His hand falters, but his glare remains steady. “Y/N.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You have to - it’s too dangerous for you here.”

“I’m staying.”

The pistol lowers as his face crumples with indecision. “You can’t. Colm, the Pinkertons…”

“Then come with me!” He drops the pistol on the table, pulling his hair as he walks away to the window. “Leave Dutch - we already have a head start! If you want to leave America, we can do it together-”

“I can’t, Y/N. It ain’t that easy.”

“I swear on my life, I won’t breathe a word to anyone about anything. I’m not going to chase you to be a father, I’ll do it alone!”

“Do you really think I don’t want this baby?” His voice cracks. “We can’t keep it, Y/N. What life can it have with parents like us?”

“I’ll give it a life! I- I’ll go straight. I’ll settle down. It’s not like I can go running back to the O’Driscolls, especially now.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t let you do that.” “Why not? You can tell Dutch whatever you want. Just leave me here and pretend we never happened-”

“It ain’t being a father I’m worried about! Y/N, I-” He slumps against the wall, staring into space, his brow riddled with worry. “I’ve done it before. My son… he lived with his Ma and I would visit when I could, gave them money so they had enough to eat, I loved them both and… they died. Killed for ten dollars.” He meets your gaze, begging. “We ain’t made for anythin’ good, Y/N. We do bad things and we get it back tenfold. If you and the baby- if anything happened-”

A bowl appears in front of your face just as your stomach turns. When you’ve finished, Arthur’s handkerchief is there to wipe away the tears and bile. You lean back, panting, eyes closed.

“I’m going to step outside,” the doctor announces as Arthur pushes back your hair, kissing your crown apologetically. “And I’m taking the pistol, sir. You can have it back when you leave.”

Arthur ignores him, crouching beside you to kiss your knuckles gently.

“Please,” you murmur. “Please don’t take the baby.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “I can’t leave America. I have nowhere else to go!”

He hushes you, peppering your face and temples with kisses. “We’ll work it out. I promise.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-Six: A Yellow Cloth ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hōzuki Suigetsu, Hōzuki Mangetsu ] [ SasuHina, gun, alcohol ] [ Verse: Stockades and Stagecoaches ] [ AO3 Link ]

The rain just starts to pour as he walks in.

Given the weather (and the fact no one wants to be out in it), the saloon is actually fairly full despite it only being early afternoon. Patrons sit at tables and mull about on their feet, several gathered around the bar itself. Despite the glum atmosphere of dreary clouds and downpours, the spirits inside seem rather high. Talk is boisterous, and only emboldened further by drink...which seems to flow rather freely.

Part of Sasuke wants to indulge, but...he wants his wits about him. He’s not here to make merry and put his feet up. No...he’s here to work.

There’s only a slight pause in the room as he steps in. Otherwise, most are quick to get back to their business. He’s rather unremarkable, after all. Just a darkly-dressed man of no real note. He could be anyone: farmhand, ranchhand, cattle rustler, outlaw...but so long as he isn’t here to cause trouble, most people won’t mind what precisely he is. Even citizens who do things a bit outside the box have thirsts, after all.

...which is why Sasuke came here first.

Sasuke isn’t an outlaw himself. Far from it. The son of a man who struck oil on their land, he’s actually set to be rather well off. But as cushy as his life has been since the day they found the so-called ‘black gold’ as those in their industry call it, Sasuke has found it rather...boring. Unrewarding.

So he’s taken up a different means of employment.

He’s a bounty hunter.

Keeping his air mostly unassuming (and yet a touch unapproachable), he does indeed call for a bottle of whiskey...but he’s barely going to sip it. He needs to look like he belongs here. If he’s in any way out of place...they’ll likely bolt.

Of course, that’s assuming that the pair of men he’s after are even here. But the sheriff of the county did his best to offer clues, and suggested that this be the place Sasuke started.

“They’re a pair of slippery devils, but they have the vice of making time for drinks. Wait around long enough, and you’re sure to spot them sooner or later.”

These two - the Hōzuki brothers - are worth a pretty penny...so Sasuke doesn’t mind paying the waiting game. Sure, he doesn’t need the money...but the price upon a man’s head - dead or alive - typically indicates how dangerous he is to go after.

And that is what Sasuke is after. Adventure! Danger! Excitement! Anything but sitting and listening to his father talk about exports and accounts and...whatever other drivel Itachi has been instead soaking up like a sponge.

His brother can do what he wants. But Sasuke can’t tolerate it. After growing up with his comfortable lot in life, he’s eager to dive into the more questionable parts.

So far? He’s done fairly well. But this is his first double contract. Time to see what he’s capable of.

Clearing a shot glass with a yellow cloth, the barkeep eyes him a bit curiously. “Getting an early start, are we?”

“Nothing better to do until the weather clears up,” Sasuke replies blithely, accepting the bottle and cup the man hands him and exchanging it for the proper coin. Retreating to a solitary corner table, he uncorks the bottle and pours his first (and last) cup. Making to nurse it slowly, he barely takes a few drops before roving dark eyes over the crowds.

His initial sweep didn’t reveal anyone of interest. Seems they’re not here...not yet, at any rate. In the meantime, he keeps up his charade. It’s enough to convince anyone who gives him a glance. No one looks close enough to notice his cup never empties...nor does his bottle.

The afternoon crawls by, the weather eventually lightening a bit. Watching the storm lessen to a few trickles of water, Sasuke glances up as a pair of men enter the tavern.

...it’s them.

They immediately make a beeline for the bar, stocking up on several bottles before settling at a table not too far off from his own. Around them, the other patrons seem to hiccup slightly, giving them wary glances. It seems most either know - or at least suspect - who and what they are.

Keeping to his reclusive expression, Sasuke doesn’t make to pay them much mind...but he listens keenly as they speak.

“So how long until we’re gettin’ paid, anyway?”

“When the job’s done!”

“You mean it ain’t?”

“Not yet, little brother.”

“But we got the girl, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did. But we ain’t got the ransom yet! The girl isn’t what we’re after, it’s her papa’s money, numbskull!”

“I know that! But what’s the ransom got t’do with us? We’re just the muscle to rob the coach she was on and bring her in to t’boss!”

“We can’t get paid until Kisame arranges the deal. Honestly, Suigetsu...pay attention, would ya? We get a cut of the ransom, which means we can’t leave town until it’s over. I wanna make sure he don’t screw us out of our fair share, after all…”

The younger brother sulks over his beer. “Why couldn’t we just rob a coach with money in it ‘stead of some girl…”

“Her papa owns the biggest herd a’ sheep in the state. What with all them...textiles or whatever, he makes big money. More than they put on any plain ol’ coach. It’s a little extra work for a hell of a lot more cash. That’s why we took this job.”

“Enough to pay off our bounties?”

“And then some.”

“Sorry, gentlemen…”

Glancing up, the pair eye Sasuke as he stands with a cocked hip at their table. “...the hell do you want?”

“Ideally, for the two of you to surrender yourselves to the law quietly and without any fuss. But I’ve been doing this long enough to know that ain’t likely.”

After a beat, they both break out into laughter. “What’re you, some kinda...deputy?” the elder brother scoffs with a grin. “I don’t see no badge, officer.”

Drawing twin pistols and aiming each square at the men’s faces as the tavern goes silent, Sasuke smirks. “Technically I’m known as a bounty hunter. And I don’t make arrests...I bring in bodies. Alive...or dead. Whatever’s easier. Now...you have two options. Make a scene, and I shoot you both. Or you surrender, and I take you in alive. Either way, I get paid. I suppose I’d just rather this go the easy way, if I had a choice. And don’t both with funny business - I’ve got reflexes that’ll see you both dead before you can try to flip any tables or throw any smoke. Least if you cooperate, you’ll get a few more days before they hang you.”

Expressions no longer amused, the brothers exchange a glance. “...what if we offer you a third option, pardner?”

“...and what would that be?”

“Information on a fish a lot bigger than us,” the younger pipes up, clearly catching on. “You ever heard a’ Kisame Hoshigaki?”

Guns still trained on their brows, Sasuke perks his own. “...I have.”

“We just ran a job for him! Kidnapped some bigwig’s daughter for ransom - Hyūga! Listen - you let us tell you where he is, and you’ll get better than our two measly bounties. Kisame’s worth five thousand last I heard! And - and I bet the father’ll reward you real nice for bringing his little girl home! Kisame’s bounty and her reward...we give you the intel, and you let us walk. How ‘bout it?”

Sasuke considers that. Kisame is, indeed, a big name in the bounty world. Several other hunters he’s known have been killed trying to bring him down. But if he had insider info, the element of surprise… “...tell you what. You give me the information...I take you in, and tell the sheriff you assisted the law. Surely they’ll knock your bounties down for your civil service...maybe to something you can afford. I can likely do that much for you. But a paid bounty don’t mean you go rackin’ up another, y’hear?”

“Sounds fair to me, boss,” the elder agrees. “You, uh...mind lowerin’ your gun and shakin’ on it?”

“Does the word of a criminal have any weight to it?”

“I might be a lawbreaker, but that don’t mean I ain’t honorable to my word. Every man’s got a code. I follow mine.”

“...done.” Twirling one pistol back to its holster to free his hand, Sasuke shakes his new companion’s. “Now...you two and me’ll take a stroll to the sheriff’s. They’ll take record of your help, and I’ll go see about this Kisame feller. You can wait there until I confirm you told me the truth. Then we’ll see about getting your bounties paid.”

“Deal.”

Keeping his gun aloft, Sasuke nods them to the door before giving a salute to the bewildered barmen as they take their leave.

The station, thankfully, is just down the street of the small town. Sasuke explains their arrangement, earning a scowl from a deputy.

“We don’t like makin’ deals with criminals.”

“And I don’t like passing up a chance to bring someone far worse to justice and letting two small fry go once their bounties are paid. It’s a fair trade, and you know it.”

“Enough,” the sheriff cuts in wearily with a wave of a hand. “We’ll make the trade...but only once you bring Hoshigaki in. Until then, we’ll keep these fellers right here...where there’s no stagecoaches to hold up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bringing out a map, the brothers point out Kisame’s location. “He’s holed up here, in this ol’ mine. Got the lady there, and he’s gonna arrange a meetin’ with her father for her ransom. He won’t be expecting trouble until then, and that’s a few days out at least.”

“Anyone with him?”

“Four or five men. Didn’t want to draw attention movin’ as a group. Just stay low and quiet. If you can get your hands on him first, the rest’ll roll over.”

Sasuke eyes the map carefully. “...all right. You two hold tight...I’ll be back in two days. See you sit here and think over your past decisions, hm?”

Looking resigned, they sit in the holding cell and watch as Sasuke makes his way back outside.

The day is aging, and the sky still dark with rainclouds. Best he wait until morning to get started. That way he’ll get there just as night falls...and that’ll give him an advantage. Mind whirling with plans...he rents a room in the local inn, and does his best to get some sleep.

                                                             .oOo.

     This is so darn random, but for some reason it was the only thing I could think of xD The image of the barman popped into my head, and the rest just kinda...happened, lol - I know it's a cliffie, but it's already super long as is for one of these entries, so...another time!      I've only written a western AU once before for another ship, but it's more fun than I thought it would be! I live pretty darn rural myself, so a lot of it's actually pretty familiar x3 And Sasuke as a bounty hunter is a neat idea. And ofc heiress Hinata!      Anywho, I've got lots to do tomorrow, so I better head off for the night~ Thanks for reading!

[promisesunkind]

Favorite movies by decade game!!!

rules: pick your favorite movies from every decade (that is, if you watch tons of old movies– if you don’t just go as far back as you can) and tag five people    

1930′s - The Wizard of Oz, Dracula, Stagecoach, The Little Colonel

1940′s - Laura, Hamlet                                                              

1950′s -  Lady and the Tramp, Rear Window, 12 Angry Men, A Streetcar Named Desire, A Star is Born        

1960′s -  Breakfast at Tiffany’s, West Side Story, Funny Girl, 101 Dalmatians,   Planet of the Apes, It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown  

1970′s -  The Aristocats, Grease, The Godfather, The Godfather Part 2, One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Beneath the Planet of the Apes, Escape of the Planet of the Apes, Battle of the Planet of the Apes, The Hills Have Eyes                      

1980′s -  Kiki’s Delivery Service, The Shining, The Outsiders, The Princess Bride, Scarface, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Once Upon a Time in America, Gremlins, Field of Dreams, A Nightmare on Elm Street, 3, 4, 5, Big, Moonstruck, Children of the Corn, The Great Outdoors  

1990′s -   The Lion King, The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride, Beauty and the Beast, The Green Mile, Tarzan,The Truman Show, Shawshank Redemption, Leon, Titanic, American Pie, Jumanji, The Sandlot, Matilda, Goodfellas, A Bronx Tale, The Parent Trap, Ghost, The Birdcage, Billy Madison, Mrs. Doubtfire, It Takes Two, Casper, It, Annie, Paulie, Hook, Homeward Bound 1, 2, 101 Dalmatians, George of the Jungle 

2000′s - 13 Going on 30, Harry Potter series, The Dark Knight Trilogy, Watchmen, Slumdog Millionaire, The Incredibles, Mean Girls, Finding Nemo, Cast Away, The Departed, Shrek, Constantine, Holes, Shark Tale, White Chicks, The Devil Wears Prada, Freaky Friday, John Tucker Must Die, The Lizzie McGuire Movie, What a Girl Wants, The Princess Diaries, 2, Cheaper by the Dozen, Uptown Girls, School of Rock, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Big Fat Liar, Spider Man 1, 2, 3, Sky High, Hellboy, Underworld, 2, 3, Silent Hill, The Final Destination, 2, Rent, The Lion King 1 1/2, Sweeney Todd, The Phantom of the Opera, Million Dollar Baby, The Pianist, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, 2, P.S. I Love You, Robots, Spy Kids, 2, 3, The Spongebob Squarepants Movie, Bend it Like Beckham, The Butterfly Effect, The Kid, The Village, Ella Enchanted,    

2010′s - The Wolf of Wall Street, Bohemian Rhapsody, Brave, HP8, Joker, Doctor Sleep, Knives Out, Jumanji 2, 3, Get Out, Ready of Not, Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Cold Pursuit, It, 2, Hereditary, Venom, Fantastic Beasts, 2, Bird Box, Split, Glass, Skyfall, Murder on the Orient Express, The Girl on the Train, Rocket Man, A Star is Born, Good Boys, The Dead Don’t Die, The Gentlemen, Sausage Party, Deadpool, 2, The Wind Rises, When Marnie Was There, A Quiet Place, Lights Out

@jacquiebethelina44     

[nathancone]

A Second Decade of Movies

Ten years ago on Facebook, I compiled a list of every movie I watched, in order, from the first decade of the network’s existence. Now, here’s part two, covering the years 2010-2019. There are 754 titles below, though some are repeat viewings. The movie I watched the most? Harold Lloyd in “The Freshman.” My favorite movie from the last decade? “The Tree of Life.”

But I began the 2010s with James Cameron’s mega-hit “Avatar.” I’ll go on record saying the movie is still enjoyable ten years later, as I watched it again in 2019 with my kids to prep for visiting the World of Pandora at Disney’s Animal Kingdom. But--I also agree with those who say there’s little remembered from the film in the culture today. Can you name the stars? Recount the plot in detail? Mostly what we remember from the film is the spectacle of it all, game-changing when it was released in 2009.

At any rate, enjoy the list below! If a title is hotlinked, it will take you to an essay, interview, or related coverage on the film by yours truly.    

1.       Avatar 2.       I Walked With A Zombie 3.       The Paradine Case 4.       Whip It 5.       The Body Snatcher 6.       Coraline 7.       Everybody’s Fine 8.       The Blind Side 9.       The Hurt Locker                 10.   Citizen Architect 11.   Fantastic Mr. Fox 12.   Dance With the One 13.   The Happy Poet                 14.   When I Rise 15.   Mr. Nice 16.   Lemmy 17.   Haynesville 18.   Rashomon 19.   Cabin in the Sky                 20.   Toy Story 2 21.   Being There 22.   Modern Times 23.   Iron Monkey 24.   Kiki’s Delivery Service 25.   Alice In Wonderland 26.   WALL·E 27.   Goldfinger 28.   A Fistful of Dollars 29.   The Red Shoes 30.   M. Hulot’s Holiday 31.   When In Rome 32.   Toy Story 3 33.   The Godfather 34.   White Heat 35.   The Girl on the Train 36.   Mary Poppins 37.   Kapò 38.   Dr. Strangelove 39.   White Dog 40.   Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home 41.   Scoop 42.   Katyn 43.   Metropolis 44.   Days of Heaven 45.   Shane 46.   Ramona and Beezus 47.   Duck Soup 48.   Pillow Talk 49.   Monte Carlo 50.   Persona 51.   The Powderkids               52.   Machete 53.   THX 1138 54.   Ran 55.   Fantasia 2000 56.   Contempt 57.   The Big Red One 58.   Mid-August Lunch 59.   McCabe & Mrs. Miller 60.   Casablanca 61.   The Last Song 62.   Close Encounters of the Third Kind 63.   Sherlock, Jr. 64.   The Thin Red Line 65.   Modern Times 66.   Fantasia 67.   Mon Oncle 68.   Stagecoach 69.   Hallelujah 70.   Mademoiselle Chambon 71.   Double Take 72.   Black Swan 73.   Tangled 74.   The King’s Speech 75.   TRON: Legacy 76.   A Safe Place 77.   The King of Marvin Gardens 78.   Wings of Desire 79.   Head 80.   The Social Network 81.   Drive, He Said 82.   The Fighter 83.   Gold Diggers in Paris 84.   The Gay Divorcee 85.   The Love Parade 86.   127 Hours 87.   Never Let Me Go 88.   Forrest Gump 89.   A Film Unfinished 90.   How To Train Your Dragon 91.   Modern Times 92.   Malcolm X 93.   When I Rise 94.   Inception 95.   The Kids Are All Right 96.   A Time For Drunken Horses 97.   Our Hospitality 98.   The Ghost and Mrs. Muir 99.   The Mikado 100.   Something Ventured 101.   Five Time Champion 102.   Natural Selection 103.   Kumare                 104.    F#$k My Life 105.    Hesher 106.    Small, Beautifully Moving Parts 107.      Win Win 108.     Beats of Freedom 109.     Topsy-Turvy 110.     Taken By Storm                 111.     I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang 112.  Army of Shadows 113.  The Life of Emile Zola 114.   Rio 115.  East of Eden 116.  The Drummond Will 117.  Cooper 118.  Marriage Italian Style 119.  Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow 120.  Sunflower 121. Salt of This Sea 122. Casablanca 123.   The Happy Thieves 124.  The Art of Getting By 125. Patty Hearst 126. Breathless 127. The Tree of Life 128.  Nora’s Will 129.  Mr. Popper’s Penguins 130.                        My Man Godfrey 131.                        The Muppet Movie 132.                        Back to the Future 133.                        Back to the Future Part II 134.                        Back to the Future Part III 135.                        Rear Window 136.                        Q: The Winged Serpent 137.                        Cars 2 138.                        The Godfather Part II 139.                        Super 8 140.                        Dazed and Confused 141.                        All Night Long 142.                        The Tree of Life 143.                        Winnie the Pooh 144.                        M. Hulot’s Holiday 145.                        Snow Flower and the Secret Fan               146.                        A Thousand Clowns 147.                        Tokyo Story 148.          ��             The Smurfs 149.                        The League of Gentlemen 150.                        Malcolm X (1972) 151.                        Late Spring 152.                        Ladies & Gentlemen the Rolling Stones 153.                        The Princess Bride 154.                        Hud 155.                        The Boys 156.                        Poetry 157.                        Waking Sleeping Beauty               158.                        Martha Marcy May Marlene 159.                        Seduced and Abandoned 160.                        The Nightmare Before Christmas 161.                        The Third Man   162.                        Dressed To Kill 163.                        Echotone 164.                        Straw Dogs (1971) 165.                        Sapphire 166.                        Broken Embraces 167.                        The Wild One 168.                        La Belle et la Bête 169.                        The Tree of Life 170.                        Beauty and the Beast 171.                        Killer’s Kiss 172.                        The Producers 173.                        Camille (1921) 174.                        She’s Gotta Have It 175.                        La Belle et la Bête 176.                        The Descendants 177.                        Hugo 178.                        The Muppets 179.                        Another Earth 180.                        Rise of the Planet of the Apes 181.                        Alvin & the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked 182.                        The Artist 183.                        Arthur Christmas 184.                        The Curious Case of Benjamin Button 185.                        Midnight in Paris 186.                        War Horse 187.                        The Whistleblower 188.                        The Great Waltz 189.                        Manhattan 190.                        Annie Hall 191.                        The Help 192.                        Moneyball 193.                        Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close 194.                        Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 195.                        The Lorax 196.                        Kid-Thing 197.                        Zodiac 198.                        Hunky Dory 199.                        Wolf 200.                        Tchoupitoulas 201.                        21 Jump Street 202.                        Crulic: The Path to Beyond 203.                        The Imposter 204.                        The Descendants 205.                        Victim 206.                        Revenge of the Electric Car 207.                        We Bought a Zoo 208.                        Titanic (3D) 209.                        Shame 210.                        The Jazz Singer 211.                        For Greater Glory 212.                        Lola Versus 213.                        The Avengers 214.                        Prometheus 215.                        Citizen Kane 216.                        Brave 217.                        Rio Bravo 218.                        The Black Hole 219.                        Thunder Soul 220.                        The Gold Rush 221.                        Children of Paradise 222.                        The Natural 223.                        An American in Paris 224.                        North By Northwest 225.                        Harold and Maude 226.                        Killer Joe 227.                        Gilda 228.                        Miss Bala 229.                        Bride of Frankenstein 230.                        The Graduate 231.                        Madagascar 3 232.                        Close Encounters of the Third Kind 233.                        Star Trek VI: The Final Frontier 234.                        TRON: Legacy 235.                        Rise of the Guardians 236.                        Lincoln 237.                        Finding Nemo 238.                        Hitchcock 239.                        The Illusionist 240.                        Les Misérables 241.                        A Christmas Story 242.                        Kit Kittredge: An American Girl 243.                        Silver Linings Playbook 244.                        The Apple Dumpling Gang 245.                        Zero Dark Thirty 246.                        Wreck-It Ralph 247.                        On the Waterfront 248.                        The Life of Pi 249.                        Argo 250.                        Bag It 251.                        Loves Her Gun 252.                        Good Night 253.                        Mud 254.                        Museum Hours 255.                        This Is Where We Live 256.                        Unreal Dream: The Michael Morton Story 257.                        Sake-Bomb 258.                        The Girl                 259.                        Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore 260.                        Return to the Hiding Place 261.                        The Purple Rose of Cairo 262.                        To The Wonder 263.                        Epic 264.                        There Will Be Blood 265.                        Star Trek Into Darkness 266.                        Lawrence of Arabia 267.                        The Birds 268.                        Star Trek: First Contact 269.                        Barry Lyndon 270.                        Star Wars: A New Hope 271.                        Saboteur 272.                        Hell’s House 273.                        Of Human Bondage 274.                        The Flowers of St. Francis 275.                        Monsters University 276.                        Old Joy 277.                        Out of Africa 278.                        Safety Last! 279.                        The Killing 280.                        A Night To Remember 281.                        Singin’ in the Rain 282.                        Sherlock, Jr. 283.                        The Smurfs 2 284.                        Planes 285.                        Sicko 286.                        Brief Encounter                 287.                        Meek’s Cutoff 288.                        Wendy and Lucy 289.                        Side By Side 290.                        A.I. Artificial Intelligence 291.                        Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs 2 292.                        Powaqqatsi 293.                        Machete Kills 294.                        Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back 295.                        The Royal Tenenbaums 296.                        Moonrise Kingdom 297.                        Bottle Rocket 298.                        The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou 299.                        The Exorcist 300.                        The Darjeeling Limited   301.                        Dreamgirls 302.                        Dallas Buyers Club 303.                        Brewster McCloud 304.                        Cruising                 305.                        City Lights 306.                        Saving Mr. Banks 307.                        Frozen   308.                        Lili 309.                        The Gold Rush   310.                        Ninotchka 311.                        12 Angry Men 312.                        Lone Survivor 313.                        Her 314.                        The Nut Job 315.                        Cool It 316.                        American Hustle 317.                        Money and Medicine 318.                        Life Itself 319.                        The X From Outer Space 320.                        Captain Phillips 321.                        A Cat in Paris 322.                        Le Ciel est à Vous 323.                        Las Marthas 324.                        Rezeta 325.                        La Jaola de Oro 326.                        Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory                 327.                        Clue 328.                        Gravity 329.                        Nebraska 330.                        The Lego Movie                 331.                        Up 332.                        Liv & Ingmar 333.                        Before Midnight 334.                        Two Weeks in Another Town 335.                        Rio 2 336.                        All Is Lost 337.                        The Great Mouse Detective 338.                        The Adventures of Robin Hood 339.                        Stephen Tobolowsky’s Birthday Party 340.                        Belle 341.                        Bottled Up: The Battle Over Dublin Dr Pepper 342.                        My Dinner With Andre 343.                        Harry Dean Stanton Partly Fiction 344.                        The Lego Movie                 345.                        Bears 346.                        The Nightmare Before Christmas 347.                        Contempt 348.                        How To Train Your Dragon 2 349.                        Vertigo 350.                        Gojira 351.                        The Wizard of Oz 352.                        12 Angry Men 353.                        A Hard Day’s Night 354.                        Network 355.                        Picnic At Hanging Rock 356.                        Get On Up 357.                        E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial 358.                        The Drop             359.                        The Match Factory Girl   360.                        Dawn of the Planet of the Apes 361.                        Superman 362.                        Horse Feathers 363.                        I Married A Witch 364.                        The Grand Budapest Hotel           365.                        Il Sorpasso 366.                        Conde Drácula 367.                        Boyhood 368.                        Fun and Fancy Free 369.                        The Freshman (1925)     370.                        Intimidation       371.                        I Am Love 372.                        Fantastic Mr. Fox 373.                        The Freshman (1925)     374.                        The Freshman (1925) 375.                        Safe 376.                        Invitation to the Dance 377.                        Captain America: The Winter Soldier 378.                        Bicycle Thieves 379.                        Sherlock, Jr. 380.                        Whiplash 381.                        Ida 382.                        Tron 383.                        Return of the Jedi 384.                        Petting Zoo 385.                        Western 386.                        Cinderella (2015) 387.                        Lamb 388.                        Babysitter 389.                        The Thin Blue Line 390.                        Vernon, Florida 391.                        Gates of Heaven 392.                        Purple Rain 393.                        Sullivan’s Travels 394.                        Star Wars: Episode I 395.                        Safety Last! 396.                        Jesus Christ Superstar 397.                        Anatomy of a Murder 398.                        Mary Poppins 399.                        Inside Out 400.                        Love & Mercy 401.                        A Star Is Born (1954) 402.                        The Princess and the Frog 403.                        The Freshman (1925) 404.                        Zazie dans la Métro 405.                        The Treasure of the Sierra Madre 406.                        Lilo & Stitch 407.                        Monkey Kingdom 408.                        Foreign Correspondent 409.                        The Princess Bride 410.                        Tomorrowland 411.                        Rome: Open City 412.                        A Hard Day’s Night 413.                        Star Trek: Generations 414.                        The Roaring Twenties 415.                        Following the Ninth 416.                        Samantha: An American Girl Holiday 417.                        He Named Me Malala 418.                        Wings of Life 419.                        Singin’ in the Rain 420.                        The Peanuts Movie 421.                        Spotlight 422.                        The Good Dinosaur 423.                        Fantasia 2000 424.                        Reel Injun 425.                        It Happened One Night 426.                        Star Wars: The Force Awakens 427.                        Star Wars: Episode II 428.                        Concussion 429.                        One Hour With You 430.                        Enchanted 431.                        A Room With A View 432.                        The Hateful Eight 433.                        Speedy 434.                        Time Out of Mind 435.                        Cinderella (2015) 436.                        The Lady Vanishes 437.                        Naqoyqatsi 438.                        Suzanne’s Career 439.                        Bear Country 440.                        The 100 Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window… 441.                        Bandidas 442.                        Star Wars: The Force Awakens 443.                        Virtuosity 444.                        The Big Short 445.                        Two Days, One Night 446.                        The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe 447.                        Bridge of Spies 448.                        Brooklyn 449.                        Michael Jackson From Motown To Off The Wall 450.                        Tower 451.                        Transpecos 452.                        Last Night at the Alamo 453.                        Claire In Motion 454.                        Zootopia 455.                        Bodyguard 456.                        W. 457.                        The Adventures of Pepper and Paula 458.                        The Jungle Book (2016) 459.                        Star Wars: The Force Awakens 460.                        Captain America: Civil War 461.                        What About Bob? 462.                        Love & Friendship 463.                        Dial M For Murder 464.                        Garfield                 465.                        Ben-Hur 466.                        To Kill A Mockingbird 467.                        Citizenfour 468.                        Finding Dory 469.                        Ant-Man 470.                        The Quiet Man 471.                        The Peanuts Movie 472.                        The BFG 473.                        My Dinner With Andre 474.                        Children of Men 475.                        The Last Temptation of Christ 476.                        The Secret Life of Pets 477.                        Chimes At Midnight 478.                        Brewed in the 210 479.                        Saturday Night Fever 480.                        The New World 481.                        Who Framed Roger Rabbit 482.                        Walt & El Grupo 483.                        Saludos Amigos                 484.                        The Jungle Book (2016) 485.                        The Last Picture Show 486.                        Beetlejuice 487.                        The King and I 488.                        Ride in the Whirlwind 489.                        Dracula 490.                        The Angry Birds Movie 491.                        The Sword in the Stone 492.                        Queen of Katwe 493.                        The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad 494.                        Beetlejuice 495.                        Dracula 496.                        Arrival 497.                        Tron: Legacy 498.                        Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams 499.                        Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them 500.                        Boomerang (1947) 501.                        Safety Last! 502.                        South of the Border 503.                        Honey, I Shrunk The Kids 504.                        Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them 505.                        Jiro Dreams of Sushi 506.                        Rogue One 507.                        Moana   508.                        Once 509.                        Redes 510.                        Max Dugan Returns 511.                        Amadeus 512.                        The New World 513.                        13th 514.                        Star Trek III: The Search for Spock 515.                        Yarn 516.                        Paddington 517.                        Hidden Figures 518.                        Doctor Strange 519.                        The Lego Batman Movie 520.                        Clue 521.                        The Honor Farm 522.                        Mr. Roosevelt 523.                        La Barracuda 524.                        The Ballad of Lefty Brown 525.                        Beauty and the Beast (2017) 526.                        Cat People 527.                        The Adventures of Tintin 528.                        The Freshman (1925) 529.                        The Artist 530.                        Day for Night 531.                        Stranger on the Third Floor 532.                        Twentieth Century 533.                        Modern Times 534.                        Alien: Covenant                 535.                        Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul 536.                        Norman 537.                        Casablanca 538.                        Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie 539.                        Alvin & the Chipmunks: Road Chip 540.                        The Man Who Knew Too Much 541.                        Cars 3 542.                        The Sugarland Express 543.                        Redes 544.                        School of Rock 545.                        Duck Soup 546.                        Cat People 547.                        Tower 548.                        War for the Planet of the Apes 549.                        Pete’s Dragon (2016) 550.                        Richard Linklater: Dream Is Destiny 551.                        The Double Life of Veronique 552.                        Dunkirk                 553.                        The Adventures of Robin Hood 554.                        Something Wicked This Way Comes 555.                        Young Frankenstein 556.                        Duck Soup 557.                        Tampopo 558.                        Beggars of Life 559.                        Tender Mercies                 560.                        The Princess and the Frog 561.                        Rogue One 562.                        Steve Jobs 563.                        Despicable Me 3 564.                        Close Encounters of the Third Kind 565.                        Koyaanisqatsi 566.                        Honeysuckle Rose 567.                        Wonder Woman 568.                        Creed 569.                        North By Northwest 570.                        Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets 571.                        The Nightmare Before Christmas 572.                        Altered States 573.                        Dealt 574.                        Star Wars: The Force Awakens 575.                        My Cousin Rachel (2017) 576.                        Get Out                 577.                        Planet of the Apes (1968) 578.                        Tomorrowland 579.                        Justice League 580.                        The Disaster Artist 581.                        Thor: Ragnarok 582.                        Beneath the Planet of the Apes 583.                        Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me 584.                        The Philadelphia Story 585.                        Escape From the Planet of the Apes 586.                        Ferdinand 587.                        Star Wars: The Last Jedi 588.                        Darkest Hour 589.                        Coco 590.                        Dunkirk                 591.                        Phantom Thread 592.                        Paddington 2 593.                        Arrival 594.                        Spider-Man: Homecoming 595.                        Conquest of the Planet of the Apes 596.                        Our Souls at Night 597.                        Mudbound 598.                        The Post 599.                        Germany Year Zero 600.                        Trading Places 601.                        The Shape of Water 602.                        Black Panther 603.                        Logan 604.                        The Simpsons Movie 605.                        Wings 606.                        Miss Congeniality 607.                        Never Cry Wolf 608.                        Something Wicked This Way Comes 609.                        Pride and Prejudice (2005) 610.                        Moana 611.                        Ready Player One 612.                        Viva Max 613.                        Red River 614.                        Bridget Jones’s Baby 615.               ��        Avengers: Infinity War 616.                        The Sugarland Express 617.                        Selena 618.                        Peaceful Warrior 619.                        Spider-Man 2 620.                        Stagecoach 621.                        The Godfather, Part III 622.                        Solo: A Star Wars Story 623.                        Jaws 624.                        Peter Pan 625.                        The Day the Earth Stood Still 626.                        Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs 627.                        Won’t You Be My Neighbor? 628.                        Daughters of the Dust 629.                        Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan 630.                        Time Bandits 631.                        Incredibles 2 632.                        Avatar 633.                        On the Waterfront 634.                        Forks Over Knives 635.                        It Happened One Night 636.                        Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl 637.                        Ant-Man and the Wasp 638.                        A Quiet Place 639.                        Full Metal Jacket 640.                        The Thin Blue Line 641.                        The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez 642.                        Teen Titans Go! To The Movies 643.                        The Reluctant Dragon 644.                        Tokyo Story 645.                        The Karate Kid (1984) 646.                        Blazing Saddles 647.                        The Black Cauldron

648.                        Back to the Future 649.                        2001: A Space Odyssey 650.                        Blaze 651.                        In Old Arizona 652.                        Crazy Rich Asians 653.                        Ocean’s 8 654.                        Star Wars: A New Hope 655.                        The Tree of Life (Extended Cut) 656.                        First Man 657.                        Food, Inc. 658.                        Napoleon Dynamite 659.                        Halloween (2018) 660.                        Christopher Robin 661.                        Battle for the Planet of the Apes               662.                        Paris, Je t’aime 663.                        Breakfast at Tiffany’s 664.                        Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald 665.                        Back to the Future, Part II 666.                        Koyaanisqatsi 667.                        Creed II                 668.                        True Stories 669.                        Ralph Breaks the Internet 670.                        Spider-Man Into the Spider-Verse 671.                        The Last Command 672.                        Mary Poppins Returns 673.                        The Primary Instinct 674.                        Rise of the Planet of the Apes 675.                        An Inconvenient Truth 676.                        A Christmas Story 677.                        BlacKkKlansman 678.                        Annihilation 679.                        A Star Is Born (2018) 680.                        That’s Entertainment, Part 2 681.                        Close Encounters of the Third Kind 682.                        Teen Titans Go! To The Movies 683.                        Back to the Future, Part III 684.                        Stranger Than Paradise 685.                        On the Basis of Sex 686.                        Bohemian Rhapsody 687.                        The Favourite 688.                        First Reformed 689.                        Dawn of the Planet of the Apes 690.                        Cold War 691.                        They Shall Not Grow Old 692.                        The Iron Orchard 693.                        Free Solo 694.                        Captain Marvel 695.                        The Little Mermaid 696.                        Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End 697.                        Wasted! The Story of Food Waste 698.                        Green Book 699.                        La Bamba 700.                        Running for Good 701.                        Us 702.                        War for the Planet of the Apes 703.                        I, Tonya                 704.                        Avengers: Endgame 705.                        Amazing Grace (2019) 706.                        Shazam! 707.                        Testament 708.                        Vice 709.                        Raiders of the Lost Ark 710.                        The Umbrellas of Cherbourg 711.                        Planet of the Apes (2001) 712.                        Aladdin (2019) 713.                        The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez 714.                        Detour 715.                        The Hitch-Hiker 716.                        The Border 717.                        Toy Story 4 718.                        Flight 719.                        Do the Right Thing 720.                        Midnight Cowboy 721.                        Spider Man: Far From Home 722.                        Some Like It Hot 723.                        Strangers on a Train 724.                        Red Hook Summer 725.                        All That Heaven Allows 726.                        Cowspiracy 727.                        Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood 728.                        Zodiac 729.                        Wings of Desire                 730.                        The Blues Brothers 731.                        The Farewell 732.                        Super Size Me 733.                        Safety Last! 734.                        Hustlers 735.                        Raiders of the Lost Ark 736.                        The Game Changers 737.                        Downton Abbey 738.                        The Body Snatcher 739.                        The Lion King (2019) 740.                        Ad Astra 741.                        The Terminator 742.                        The Irishman 743.                        Frozen II 744.                        Our Dancing Daughters 745.                        The Castaway Cowboy 746.                        The Thin Man 747.                        Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice 748.                        Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker 749.                        Doctor Sleep 750.                        A Hidden Life 751.                        Bombshell 752.                        Fed Up 753.                        Miracle on 34th Street 754.                        Brittany Runs a Marathon

[nordic-breeze]

Arthur Morgan/F!Reader - Trouble With The Law

AO3. WC:  2648. Warnings: none. General audience.

A timid reader and a fairly new inclusion to the van der Linde gang. You've been wary of Arthur ever since you joined the van der Linde's but nevertheless you find courage to come to his aid when he finds himself in trouble with the law while Arthur gets a taste of how it would be like to have a family of his own.

But first, a prelude.

The surprise shower of rain has let up and the sun greets you with its warmth as you exit the general store in Valentine. You tuck away a candy bar and a small bag of dried fruit and let your fingers glide over a lovely blue shawl you bought from the money you earned from selling some of your crafts. It feels good to have paid with hard-earned, honest cash for once. Karen and Mary-Beth are nowhere to be seen. You reckon they went to join Bill when the rain stopped to secure the best seats on the buckboard. You let out a huff as you realize you’ll be dead last to return – again.

Or, maybe not? You wrap the new shawl around you, tying the ends into a loose knot when Arthur Morgan’s unmistakable voice catches your ear. You turn and spot him two steps to your left, talking to the one-armed, loquacious beggar in the well-worn, tattered soldier’s uniform. Or, listening impatiently as the other rambles on. You mentally prepare to defend the pitiful scrounger from the coarse and rowdy outlaw. Morgan is being friendly, well, friendly-ish for the time being but surely his near non-existing patience is about to run out. You still have a few coins left that you think of handing to the homeless man. You regret buying the candy bar. If you hadn’t, the poor fella could’ve bought himself a hot meal, but there should still be enough money for – what?!

A second later, you forget all about that when, to your astonishment, the lonesome soldier embraces the brooding van der Linde with his one arm.

“I won’t forget this, Arthur,” he vows, his voice brimming with gratitude. “Thank you. Thank you.”

The beggar saunter in the direction of the train station, a smile spread on his weathered face as he hums about his friend Arthur while playing with the coins given to him. Mr. Morgan turns on his heels, chin low and notably self-aware. It certainly doesn’t help when he meets your marble eyes, and come to realize that you’ve witnessed everything. The other van der Linde’s had all returned to the buckboard, or so he thought. He was sure no one from the camp would see. Two awkward seconds of dumbstruck silence follow before Mr. Morgan tips the brim of his hat.

“Miss <y/n>”

“Mr. Morgan.” Eyes fixed on the buttons on his shirt, you return the greeting. “That was, um, very kind of you, I’m sure he appr-“

“Sure.”

He offers the curt response as he strides past you in the direction of the van der Linde’s customary rendezvous-spot. You follow a couple of steps behind, equally self-conscious. The fact that this had been your very first actual, one-on-one exchange with the daunting Mr. Morgan does not help at all. You both reach the buckboard at the same time, and you realize just a second too late it seems to the others as you two have been gone somewhere together, earning some strange looks.

“What you two been up to?” Bill grins, clearly amused.

“Nothing!” You and Arthur simultaneously chime, which earns a few raised eyebrows. Arthur finds his place next to Bill without another word, and you squeeze in between the girls, cheeks glowing. Karen shoves her elbow into your ribs, giggling.

“What happened?” she enquires, eyes brimming with curiosity. “What was you and Arthur up to?”

“I- eh,” you begin.

“C’mon, tell us!” she insists.

“Um, eh- you gonna have to ask Mr. Morgan.”

-

“Look auntie <y/n>, a froggie!”

“That’s a frog all right. Look, I think it’s about to leap.”

And right on cue, the amphibian springs into the air, followed by three tiny hops across the forest floor, which prompts the squatting four-year old to let out a spontaneous, gleeful laugh.

“It’s so cute. Hi froggie.”

“Now, what should we name him? Or her?”

“<Y/N>!”

“After me? Aw, that’s so sweet.”

You’re in the woods not too far from the camp site. Your mission: gather herbs, berries and mushrooms. You brought Jack with you, not just as a favor to Abigail, but because you genuinely enjoy spending time with the boy. You and young Marston are both consumed by the study of forest creatures when you hear angry voices from the road nearby, one of them familiar. Mr. Morgan?

There are at least two additional men’s voices which yo do not recognize, but from his tone you can tell Mr. Morgan is not pleased with how the conversation is going. Using the forest vegetation as cover, you sneak up to eavesdrop, motioning for Jack to be quiet by putting your index to your lips.

“Can’t a fellar enjoy this beautiful country in peace and quiet anymore?”

“Not when there’s been a stagecoach robbery nearby,” an unfamiliar voice interjects. “We have to question everybody in the area, sir.”

“You see mister,” another other voice breaks in, this one more assertive. “Eyewitnesses has described a man of your height and shape robbing that stagecoach, and here you are, no alibi and no good explanation as to your presence here.”

“I was out huntin’.”

“I don’t see no hunting rifle.”

“It’s on my horse, it’s, eh – it got spooked by a snake or somethin’ movin’ in the grass. I dunno where it’s run off to.”

“What did you say your name was again, Sir?”

“I didn’t.”

You’ve been wary of the gang’s leading enforcer ever since you joined the van der Linde’s all those months ago, finding him ruthless, crude and not just a little bit intimidating. Nonetheless you believe he’s innocent as it’s in your best interest to keep a low profile so close to the camp. But even in the off-chance he did rob that stagecoach, you still have to help out a fellow gang member and get rid of these lawmen so dangerously close to the camp. Leaning into Jack’s ear you give him a set of very specific instructions.

“Pa! We’re back, pa.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up when Jack sprints out from behind the trees, shortly followed by you carrying a basket brimming with various flora, smiling from ear to ear.

“Darling! Sorry we took so long,” you tweet as you tuck away a runaway lock. You have to force yourself to look him directly in the eyes, something you’ve never dared to before, as you tuck your arm around his and flash him the loveliest a smile. Arthur is quick to hide his bemusement and plays along, hoisting Jack up in his left arm whilst letting you hold onto his right. All these months he’s been wholly convinced you despise him so he’s more than a little bit surprised but nonetheless grateful for the bailout. But what could your motivation possibly be?

“Pa, guess what, we just saw a froggie,” young Marston chimes. “I named it after momma.”

The boy inadvertently coming up with the perfect excuse for your absence, all you have to do is to give Arthur an alibi. “Is my husband in trouble with the law? No Sir, that could not have been him robbing those poor folks. He’s been with us for the better part of the day, teaching our boy how to track animals while I was gathering herbs. It’s for tonight’s dinner.”

Your grip around Arthur’s arm tightens. He’s rolled up the sleeves and your fingertips brush against his warm skin. You had never expected him to feel so - soft.

“That horse of us got spooked by a snake and ran to the river down there.” Your eyes never leaving the lawmen, you nod in the direction of said river. The crown of your head bumps into Arthur’s arm.

“She’s a darling but terribly skittish I’m afraid. My husband said he’d go after her while I took our boy behind that rock over there. Nature calling. But when he saw that little frog, it was impossible to get him to leave. You know, boys his age.”

You turn to Arthur. Was that a hint of a smile? It almost makes you lose your train of thought. Almost. “Did you find Boadicea, dear?”

You hope he doesn’t mind the use of his old horse’s name. Nearly drawing a momentarily blank, it was the only name that had popped into your head. If he does mind, he doesn’t show it.

“I was about to go down and calm her when these two idiots came outta nowhere.”

“Now darling, have some respect for the law.” Hoping to defuse the situation peacefully, you place your other hand on Arthur’s overarm, feeling his muscles tense under the fabric of his shirt. “These fine gentlemen here are just doing their job,” you remind, squeezing his arm lightly.

The more aggressive of the lawmen steers his attention back to Arthur. “Is this true?”

“As the lady says,” the van der Linde cooly replies, giving him that glare. His voice is calm but with a threatening edge to its tone.

Jack plays his part beautifully and you surprise yourself being almost equally convincing. Now having a solid alibi, the lawmen have no choice but to let their suspect go. As they retreat you let go of your five-minute husband’s arm, whom now has Jack in both of his. You feel a buzz of excitement knowing that your plan had worked like a charm and relieved that the threat was dealt with peacefully, but with the lawmen gone, the realization that you’re now alone with the menacing outlaw sinks in. You hope he’s not angry with your meddling. You are well aware of his shoot-first-ask-never stance when it comes to troublesome lawmen. The law well out of hearing-range, Arthur shifts his attention to the boy eagerly reciting your plan, and asking if he did well. He did.

“It was aunt <y/n>’s idea,” he smiles after Arthur’s done praising him. Your grip on the basket tightens, making your knuckles go white.

Still not sure why you had helped him but grateful nonetheless, the van der Linde offers you a ride back to camp. Too nervous to speak, you just nod. As Arthur’s horse can’t carry all three of you, you and Jack takes up the saddle whilst Arthur leads. Thank goodness for the young one’s never-ending blabber, otherwise the trip back to camp would have been pretty awkward. Actually, it still kind of is.

At the camp, Jack wastes no time running up to Abigail to tell her all about what had happened and how well he did, squealing high enough for the entire camp to hear. Dutch emerges from his tent to see what the commotion’s about and before you know it, people start huddling around as Jack excitedly recites the event to everyone in hearing range. This ends up getting a whole lot more attention than you’d imagined. From the corner of our eye, you take notice of Arthur’s annoyance. Yep, there was definitely an internal facepalm to go with that eye-roll. Your knuckles go white again.

From here on out, everything’s a little hazy. You remember Dutch asking Arthur about the lawmen and the latter brushing it of as a misunderstanding and Karen’s bombardment of questions whose wording you instantly forget. Some of the gang members, especially Bill, sees this as the perfect opportunity to crack jokes at your expense.

“Little miss <y/n> and big ole’mean Arthur Morgan, who would’ve thought,” he roars, resulting in a choir of laughter. “You two keep disappearing and reappearing again together like this, you’ll end up married for real one day,” he wheezes, alluding to the other day in Valentine when you and Arthur had arrived together, both of you avoiding any elaboration on the matter.

“Well then, maybe miss <y/n> here won’t look like a frightened rabbit about to be devoured by a wolf every time Mr. Morgan’s around,” Pearson taunts, followed by more laugher.

This is all too much. You absentmindedly hand the basket over to the person closest to you, Abigail you think, scurry off from the crowd, slip behind the shrubbery surrounding the camp, coming to a halt at a patch of grass close to the canyon cliffside where you start pacing, embarrassed and annoyed at your own inability to stand up for yourself. Unless you learn how to retort fellow gang members’ mockery at your expense, you’re going to end up as the butt of the joke more than once.

In the meantime, Tilly and Mary-Beth both insist that Arthur, who just wants the whole thing to be forgotten and over with mind you, go and talk to you. He eventually caves in and heads over to check on you, startling you as he makes his presence known.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, miss. You allrite?”

You fumble with your fingers, one moment intertwining them, the next you’re playing with the fringes on your shawl or twiddling your hair. “What? Me? Sure. I’m cool as a cucumber,” you gawkily chortle, a spur-of-the-moment attempt at making light of a tense situation, immediately followed by internal cringing.

“Cool as a – what?”

“Eh, nothing. Just something I read in a poem once,” you continue babbling. Lord knows what he must be thinking of you now, silly little girl.

“Really?”

“Never mind. Look, I’m real sorry about all the fuss back there thanks to my brilliant plan. I didn’t mean for it to get so you know, … embarrassing.”

“It ain’t yer fault,” he assures, saving you from having to continue your train of thought, of which had hit a buffer stop. “Bill’n Pearson may be idiots both of’em, but they mean nothin’ by it.”

“I know, I-“

“I go’n talk to’em.”

“No, tha-that’s okay. It’ll only make it worse. I need to learn how to stand up for myself.”

“You sure?”

“M-hmm.”

“All rite. Just let me know if you want me to put’em in their place.”

An awkward pause ensues. Arthur scratches the back of his head. His wordless stare has you look down. You trace the ground with your foot, watching grass blades disappear under the sole of your shoe. How hard life must be for ground-level flora, being stepped and tramped on all day when all they want in life is to be left alone to bathe in the sun, with a little bit of water and air to go.

“You’re a clever one you know, savin’ me from a night in jail like that. You did good.”

You return his compliment with a coy smile. You can feel your cheeks burning, as if the warmth of your beam is surging upwards and accumulating at a spot below your eyes. Flustered and charmed by the outlaw, you avert your eyes, hoping in vain he hadn’t noticed. A smile tugs at his lips.

“You’ve got one thing wrong, though.” There is a hint of jest to his voice. “Boadicea wasn’t skittish.”

“Oh I have no doubt. I was just, had to say something fast and it was the only name I could think of.”

“Yeah I figured.” A low rumble from his chest emerges as a deep and throaty yet pleasant chortle. “I was surprised you remembered.”

“You miss her?”

He looks away for the first time since joining you on that patch of grass, blades horizontal against the ground after endless pacing from many a troubled van der Linde.

“She was a good horse,” he eventually replies without really answering your question though the expression in his eyes alongside a long, near imperceptible sigh you more sense than hear is answer enough. He adjusts his hat by tugging at the brim. You see absolutely no difference.

“Well, catch you later, then.”

“Wait!” You stop him as he’s about to turn on his heels, your faltering courage thwarting you from saying what you had intended. “Can I, um, ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did you really rob that stagecoach?”

-

A lil something that’s been in my draft for almost two months. I've been working on it now and then in between my other stories, but a writer's block prevented me from completing it until now.

[cowboisss]

i loved the headcanons i requested!! could i maybe get a little fic with hosea and younger female reader smut, if you write smut? thank you 🥰

Keep Reading - Hosea x Reader

A/N Here it is! And this isn't just any ask fulfillment- this is my 300th post on Tumblr! I procrastinated on this so much and for that I am sorry. I am also not very good at writing smut and writing in general but nevertheless, I hope you like this! I tried my very best ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Also I feel I should preface this with a statement that I headcanon Hosea to be 55 and a “younger” reader to be in her early- to mid-thirties, to avoid any confusion.

18+ ONLY PLEASE, NO YOUNGINS

Hosea’s tent was almost silent, the sound of turning pages the only occasional disturbance. He was sitting on his bed, you in his lap, books open, and while he appeared to be completely content, you couldn’t seem to focus on the words in front of you. No matter how much you desperately tried to read, the letters just kept floating off the page and away from you, turning into a jumbled mess in front of your eyes.

Every once in a while you would glance back up at Hosea and see him happily enjoying his book, eyes scanning his pages with the speed of an expert reader. It was hardly fair, in your opinion, that he could spend so much time enjoying a book when you found it so dreadfully boring. You looked down once more at your page, trying yet again to find some kind of entertainment.

Eventually, though, it became too much, and you let out a little huff. Hosea turned to you with curious eyes, his brow furrowed.

“Something wrong?”

“Readin’s boring,” you stated matter-of-factly. “I could be shootin’ up O'Driscolls or robbin’ a stagecoach… not lookin’ at some words on a page.” With a disappointed sigh, you shut your book, looking up at him with a pleading expression. “Can’t we do somethin’ else?”

He hummed thoughtfully, and kissed your cheek. You smiled at the feeling of his lips on your cheek, and turned your head to kiss him proper.

“How’s about we play a game then?” He asked, one arm wrapping around your waist. You grinned, and nodded excitedly, causing a chuckle to leave his lips. “A reading game,” he added, and your smile fell. You maintained your curiosity, however, and reopened your book, eager to find out what sort of game he had in mind.

“How do you play?” You settled back into your spot in his lap, head against his chest, as he set aside his own book to wrap his other arm around your waist as well.

“It’s very easy to play, you just read aloud to me. There’s only one rule: you can’t stop reading,” Hosea explained, and you felt him smirk as his kissed your neck. You raised an eyebrow at his cryptic explanation, but you trusted him, and with a quiet “okay” you searched your page for the spot you left off. You happened to be in the middle of Jane Eyre, where exactly you weren’t sure, but you wanted to try your best to read it, if not to please Hosea than to figure out what kind of game he was planning.

“I saw Mr. Rochester smile–his stern features softened…” Hosea grinned at the sound of your voice, and you’d scarcely started your sentence when you felt his hand gliding across your thigh, his intentions clear. A gentle sigh escaped your lips, and you continued reading aloud.

Not soon after, his hand sneaked beneath your skirt, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. For a moment, you stopped reading, and Hosea immediately pulled away his touch. Your whine filled the air, and he quietly tsked behind you.

“Keep reading, darling…” he murmured against your skin. Reluctantly obeying, you continued your reading, braced for his next move. He eventually returned to his previous actions, fingers moving quickly under your skirt and this time your undergarments as well, moving across your skin like a dancer on a stage, graceful, purposeful, and promising so many exciting sensations. You were still able to focus on your reading luckily, and with renewed vigor, you returned your eyes to the page.

That determination didn’t last, however, as his fingers slowly found their way to your core, not quite close enough to provide any real sensation but enough to cloud your mind from the task at hand. Your voice began to fall apart, quickly, but you pressed on.

“E-every good… true… vigorous feeling I- I have, gather- gathers impulsively round him…” Your cheeks tinted with a bright red color and your breathing become more and more labored as he softly stroked a finger up your now incredibly wet folds.  

“Go on, you’re doing beautifully,” he encouraged. You worked up a small smile, your hips involuntarily moving towards his hand, eager to feel more. You continued to read, and Hosea continued to reward you with his fingers, and soon his lips as well, pressing kisses to your neck. He lightly brushed a finger against your clit, causing you to gasp loudly, one of your hands leaving the book to grip at his forearm. Ever the stubborn one, you persevered.

“The l-ladies, since the- the gentlemen entered… have be-become lively… lively as larks…” You let out a small cry as he slowly pressed a finger into you, then another, the sensation welcomed. He chuckled from his spot behind you, kissing behind your ear before leaning forward to whisper in it.

“Good girl, always so good for me…” He worked up the speed of his fingers, and your resolve deteriorated even further. You could barely get through a sentence, but you tried, and Hosea seemed pleased with that.

Soon enough, you felt your center coil tight, and for a moment, you forgot entirely about the book. “Hosea..!” Like lightning, his fingers were gone, and you let out a frustrated cry, tossing your head back onto his chest.

“You know the rules,” he reminded you, sternly, acutely aware of your discontentment. “Keep reading if you want me to continue, my dear.”

You nodded meekly, and returned to your book, after which Hosea returned to fingering you. It wasn’t long before he had you worked up again, and this time, you kept in mind the rules of his game.

“I did- did not p-pick her up… she was le-left on my hand-hands…” Your insides twisted and turned once more, threatening to snap at any moment as your orgasm fast approached. The fingers inside you continued to speed up, while you stayed on your reading path, desperate to avoid them stopping again.

You got through one more sentence before the dam broke, and you let out a gasp and a cry, gripping your book with iron clutches as your vision went white. Hosea didn’t stop, but you had a feeling that even if he did it wouldn’t have mattered. Instead, he helped you ride out your orgasm, whispering praises in your ear, and admiring your form as you convulsed and cried out.

As you came down you felt Hosea’s lips on your neck once more. You sighed contently, closing your eyes for a short moment before reopening them and kissing him. He hummed, pressing you closer against him, and you felt the hardness in his trousers against your backside.

“You did so well,” he praised, his hand coming up to his mouth so that he could lick it clean. “But I don’t believe we’re finished just yet…”

[dastardlydutchvanderlinde]

Hi there! I absolutely love your stories! If you’re accepting requests, would you write a little something about Dutch and Hosea on a bank robbery together? Bonus points if everything goes completely according to plan!

I’m so sorry this took me SO long to do, been having a hard time writing stuff I like but hope you enjoy!

The sun was high in the sky by the time theyarrived in the beat up town of Rose Creek. The heat had everyone disappearinginto the shade of the lone saloon, a quiet peace descending on the otherwisehectic mining town. 

At the far end of the town, four horses could beseen kicking up the dust, and riding them were four men new to the area

The Count and Silver Dollar were sweating, muscles quivering as fliesdrew towards the moisture, their tails and ears flicking in annoyance. Behindthem, Old Boy and Boadicea snorted their own displeasure, the sounds of leathersnapping as the boys tried to keep control of the reins. 

“Don’t let those horses know you’re nervous. They’ll play up.” Hoseamuttered, glancing back and straightening in his saddle.

John frowned in concentration, and Arthur squared his shoulders,claiming he wasn’t nervous. 

“Keep cool and stick to the plan. Trust us.” Dutch says with a finalitythat held no room for argument. 

This was the first time they’d taken the boys with them on a job thisbig. Not that the town of Rose Creek was anything special, but so far they’donly done stagecoach and train robberies in the middle of nowhere. Here? Herethey were taking money under the law’s nose, the noose swinging empty at the otherend of the street. There was only so much room for error here, and by the waythe boys were sweating they knew about it. 

The plan was simple enough. Hit the bank quiet at high noon and get outbefore anyone started screaming. The haze of the midday sun would be theircover, John and Arthur the goons on the door, and Dutch and Hosea working toempty the poor rich folk’s investments into their dirty saddlebags. 

Hosea grinned, turning in his saddle to wink at the boys as they pulledup down the side of the bank. 

They barely smiled in return, all nervous energy and quick glances.

“Ready?” Dutch asked them all, making a point to receive confirmationfrom each of them in turn. 

When he looked at Hosea, dark eyes searching for reassurance, Hoseanodded and drew up his bandana. “Ready. Keep your heads boys, don’t panic.Listen, breathe, we’ll be fine.” 

It wasn’t just a speech for the jittery John and Arthur, it was forDutch too. Hosea had seen too many jobs go south when Dutch lost his path.Sure, hadn’t happened much since they’d figured out how to work smoothlytogether years ago, but the memories of needless violence and close shaves werestill sharp in his mind. He needed to be reminded sometimes, that thiswasn’t Dutch versus Old Sam all on his own. They were a team, and they were workingtowards something bigger than themselves.

Dutch grunts, and slips from his horse. 

They leave the horses standing in order, angled to bolt out towards theback of the bank and across the plains towards the mountains. They wouldn’tmove, and with The Count and Old Boy boxing in Silver Dollar and Boadicea,there was no risk of any random stranger stealing them. 

“We go in together, guns up. We want this quiet. Arthur, I want you tokeep everyone in line while John gets them gagged and tied. Once me and Hoseaare finished, we lock ‘em in the vault and get the hell outta here. On three.”Dutch says, taking control with a practiced ease. 

They get to the edge of the building, and Dutch holds up threefingers. 

“Why we gotta tie these poor folks up?” John asks, and gets an elbow tohis ribs from Arthur.

Hosea shook his head. Now was not the time to start questioning theplan, it was too late, already in motion.

The countdown begins, and then they’re rushing the door, quick andquiet. 

Dutch bursts through the doors like he’d been there a hundred timesbefore, confident and cocksure. Everything about him screams arrogance, fromthe way his hips sway to the lazy readying of his guns. Hosea has to be carefulnot to get distracted.

“Ladies and gentlemen! This is a robbery, keep your hands up and no oneneeds to get hurt.” Dutch yells out once they’re inside, Arthur blocking thedoors behind them and John cocking his guns. 

Hosea has seconds to analyse the room, and noticed with a racing heartthere were more people present than they’d first accounted for. 

It was seven against four, and John didn’t exactly lookthreatening. 

A man standing closest to Dutch begins to hold his hands up, but Hoseacan see him eyeing up Dutch’s gun. 

It’s too late to warn him, and Dutch is busy scanning the room andchecking John and Arthur weren’t about to get shot. 

It would go one of two ways. Dutch would notice, and kill him, or Dutchwould notice too late and get killed. 

The man lunges, and gets a bullet buried in his skull. 

“Shit!” Dutch growls, and the room erupted into screaming. 

John had frozen, and Arthur frantically kept the remaining people fromstorming out. 

“Jesus Christ, Dutch. Some example we’re setting!” Hosea snarls, roundingthe clerk desk and hopping over the barrier meant to keep customers out. Hesnatched the vault key from under the counter, Dutch moving to catch up. 

He looks pissed off, blood spattered up his chest. “It’s goodexperience, hurry up! The law would have heard the gunshot, won’t take themlong to get up off their asses to investigate.”

“We’re close to the saloon, might head there first.” Arthur suggests,even as his eyes are wide and his hands are shaking. He doesn’t want todisappoint them, doing his best to keep a level head. 

Dutch nods, clapping Arthur’s shoulder as John sweeps throughrestraining the remaining people. “Good thinkin’ my boy. Go stand outside andif they come let them know there’s a ruckus in the saloon. John, keep thesepeople still and quiet while we work.”

The boys both get to work, though Arthur almost falters at the prospectof being alone outside. But, he squares his shoulders and holsters his guns,slipping outside to lean casually against the front rail, starting tosmoke. 

Dutch checks over their hostages one last time, and then followsHosea. 

Inside the vault, is enough gold to last them til next winter. 

Dutch whistled. “My my. The good people of Rose Creek have such fatpockets.” 

“Not for long. Come on, we need to get out of here fast after that messyou made.” Hosea says, moving to the closest tray of valuables. 

“What was I supposed to do, let him shoot me with my own gun?” Dutchasked, heading for the biggest pile of gold he could see. 

Hosea sighs. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just would have been nice to show theboys things can be done without violence.”

“Violence is a necessary sin sometimes.” Dutch says, cramming the saddlebag full of gold. He’s already got one stuffed, slinging it over one shoulderas he starts on the second. “You know that as well as I do.”

“I just-“ Hosea pauses, holding a gold cross on a chain between hisfingers. “I just want these boys to do better than us. Live a better life.”

Dutch hums, shouldering the second saddle bag and slipping a few extradollars he can see into his pockets. “I know, Hosea. I do too but we can’t findthem liberty, freedom, independence without money these days. Half of thiswe’ll put away, into savings. One day, when we got enough, we’ll go further outwest than any of us have ever been, and we’ll start a ranch. A good, honestranch. Then those boys will know liberty, a life free from violence andcruelty. The poor gentlemen outside, he stood in the way of that.” 

“I know. I know, Dutch I’m just worried is all.” Hosea says, finishingup his first saddle bag. 

Dutch comes up behind him, helping load up the next bag. “Can we saveyour philosophical worrying until after we’ve robbed this bank?”

“If we must. I got this, go check on the boys.” Hosea suggests, swattingDutch’s interfering hand out of his way. 

Dutch does as he was asked, exiting the vault to the main part of thebank. 

He was pleased to see John with his rifle still raised out of sight, andArthur leaning comfortably against the rail through the window. Every hostagewas gagged and tied, excluding the unfortunate accident. 

“How’re we doin’?” John asks, jerking his head to where Hosea was stillworking. 

Dutch nods, patting the bags over his shoulder. “Pretty good take. Holdthese while we get these fine folks into a safe place.”

He hands over the bags, swapping them for a silently weepingwoman. 

“Ain’t that safe if the likes of us can get in it.” John mutters asDutch heads back to the vault. 

It’s a good point, but it will keep them quiet for a while longer as thefour of them make their getaway run. 

“Keep an eye out for Arthur, make sure the law don’t turn on him.” Dutchshouts over his shoulder as he deposits the first woman into the vault. 

Hosea has just finished with packing the bags, and he leans slightly tothe left with the weight of it. 

“Alright, that’s as much as we can carry.” Hosea says, moving to followin Dutch’s footsteps. 

The process goes rather smoothly, with John standing under the weight oftheir loot as Dutch and Hosea take it in turns to move all their hostages intothe vault. They even move the dead man, only a minor stain on the floor and abullet lodged in the wall behind him. 

It’s not the quickest work, but apparently the law here aren’t thespeedy respondents they had first feared. 

Before long, the vault is locked back up with the key awaiting rescue onthe desk. 

“Can we get outta here now? My back is killing.” John complained,handing off the saddlebags to Dutch and Hosea. 

Hosea laughed. “Oh, your back is hurting? You’re still a child you don’tknow what back pain is yet.” 

“Like you’re such an old man.” Dutch says with a grin. 

Exiting the bank, Arthur joins them within a split second. 

“We gotta go right now.” He says, trying to herd them all along. 

Hosea frowns, and behind him Dutch opens his mouth to speak. 

“Hey!”

Four pairs of eyes look to the saloon, and three lawmen are starting tohead towards them. 

“Shit, there goes the smooth exit.” Dutch growls. “Let’s go!”

They move like lightening, exploding into action and running back acrossthe dusty wooden floor and skidding around the corner. The horses jerk theirheads against the reins in surprise, but they aren’t given much time to realisewho was heading right for them. 

Hosea is the first up onto Silver Dollar, the fastest of the four. ThenArthur, and John, and finally Dutch. He was always the last to ride, preferringto make sure everyone else kept safe and in sight on a getaway dash. 

“Keep up boys, don’t look back.” Dutch hollered as Hosea took off at agallop. 

Arthur went to look behind him, to check Dutch was following, but caughthimself at the last second. He kicked his legs, and Boadicea snorted as sheran. 

Old Boy took longer to get going, but The Count nipping at his hauncheshad him picking up the pace. 

A gunshot went off, the dust to the left of Hosea kicking up in a sprayof movement. 

“Faster! Head to the forest!” Dutch yelled, spurring The Count. 

Hooves thundered against the dry plains, the four of them streakingacross the grass like their lives depended on it. No-one looked back, if youlooked back you’d slow, and if you slowed you were a dead man. 

Shouting grew quieter as they got closer to the rich green of themountainside forest, the echoing roar of hoof beats silenced as the hardterrain gave way to softer ground. 

They kept riding, even as the voices behind them turned into nothing buta memory, they kept riding. 

Dusk was just beginning to fall when Hosea pulls Silver Dollar to ahalt, turning him on the spot. 

“Think we’re clear?” Hosea asked, adjusting in the saddle. 

Dutch stops next to him, leaning forwards on the pommel and panting alittle from the hard riding. “I’d say so. For now, we want to keep our headsdown. Arthur especially, those lawmen got a good look at him while we weretrying to get out quiet.”

There’s a huff of acknowledgement from Arthur. “Shouldn’t have wastedtime moving them folk over into the vault. Would have been clear before that.”

“It was unfortunate.” Dutch says slowly, moving to take the lead now thedanger was passed. “But, the plan was to make as little noise as possible, totry and break free without anyone giving chase. We leave those townsfolk freeto wriggle around and they’ll free each other and start hollering.”

“Made noise the second we got in there!” John jumped in, waving a handin exasperation as they moved through the forest. 

Hosea just looked at Dutch. 

Dutch had the decency to look sheepish. “I didn’t go in with theintention of killing no-one, but it was him or me. I think things went prettywell, considering.” 

“A perfect example of how quickly things go wrong.” Hosea said.

Dutch huffed a laugh, and shrugged. “Well, there is that.”

“Perhaps next time we can keep our guns in their holsters.” Hosea says,shaking his head. There was always violence where Dutch was involved; it seemedto follow him around like a black cloud. No matter how hard they tried to avoidit, Dutch would cause chaos and terror in his wake. 

Hosea couldn’t decide if it would be their downfall or theirtriumph. 

“Alright. Split up and head back to camp. Take a bag each and keep outof trouble. We’ll see you in a few days.” Dutch says to the grumbling boys. “Treatyourselves to somethin’.”

The boys only complained under their breath for a few seconds longer,the prospect of buying a nice new gun soothing their ruffled feathers. Theyeach turn in different directions, until there’s nothing but the faint soundsof hoof beats to suggest they were ever there.

“Now, I believe you were in the middle of a long monologue about usbeing better men?” Dutch says, that sly handsome grin spreading across hisface.

Hosea laughs, moving them off east. “I believe I was.”

 They weren’t perfect, but by God did they have dreams.

[coureirsix]

Chicago

[ wrote a little bitty about two baby boys. || read on ao3 ]

Dutch takes John out on a heist one day and Arthur’s going to die mad about it. 

Chicago.

Let’s go to Chicago, he’d said. It’ll be fun, he’d said. There’s no fun quite like seeing the feeble attempts at rising a city that will never last, he’d said. You like doing things quietly, Arthur, he’d said. Dutch said a lot of things. And he wasn’t necessarily wrong. But, there was a difference this time.

This time, they brought Marston around. Good-shot little Johnny Marston. John Marston who cleared a cabin before Arthur could get his gun up. There were only two people in that cabin. It wasn’t that impressive. Arthur had done things much more impressive in his time as an outlaw. And he hadn’t been riding with Dutch and Hosea for very long, either.

But, Dutch had said they were to bring Marston along for this ride, and that was that. Arthur sits in the back of a wagon Dutch had secured for getting around town, the frown on his face permanent since they got off the train station in Chicago. The city was barren, for the most part, but there were skeletons of buildings, roads being planned as well as the odd structures already completed. They stand out like blood in water as they ride through the city.

Arthur peers over the top of the wagon’s sides, taking note of the routes they could potentially use as escape routes should there be any issue. He was careful like that. He was useful like that. Marston’s atop of the wagon. With Dutch. Marston’s talking about some hunt. Something useless. But, Dutch is laughing along. Inciting the boy, asking questions. What Dutch should be doing is watching for the lawmen that may be around. Placing them on the map in his mind, should things go wrong.

But, Arthur’s already doing that. Arthur has the tiny plot of land mapped out and he’s ready to go at Dutch’s command. He looks down at his gun, clean as can be, thanks to Hosea teaching him how to clean the metal. Marston’s isn’t as clean.

When they’d been back at the little camp they’d set up for themselves, Dutch brought up robbing the first national bank of Chicago. They’d have to bring funds into the upcoming town, Dutch had said. He’d heard word of a decent enough amount being brought in and there were too few of them for a decent train robbery, so the bank itself would have to do.

Arthur had been excited, as excited as he always was whenever something that had come up. He was usually entrusted with hunting, petty thievery or holding up men on horses. Little things. But, as of recently, Dutch had taken him for a few proper robberies. Arthur had held up a gunsmith, a couple of small time banks, and several stagecoaches. Marston was left to do some of the little things. Hosea did the hunting whenever Arthur couldn’t and Dutch remained a master of stealing right from underneath people’s noses. Marston only barely earned his keep.

In a way, Arthur could rationalize it to himself that this was how Marston was to earn his keep. But, Marston was inexperienced. He hadn’t held up more than a woman on the streets before. Marston couldn’t handle what was coming. He wouldn’t be able to. Arthur looks up at the back of their heads and he gets an idea.

“Hey, Dutch?” Arthur finally says from his spot in the wagon’s cart.

“Yes, Arthur?” Dutch calls back.

“You sure we should be bringing Marston? You’re not afraid he might run right into the line of fire?” Arthur asks. He knows there’s no going back on this decision, but it might just be enough for him to get a rise out of Marston.

“I’m not stupid, ‘course I won’t do that,” Marston snaps back before Dutch can respond.

“You sure, Marston? Coulda sworn I saw a lady disarm you back down south,” Arthur says, without missing a beat.

“You saw wrong, Morgan,” Marston responds.

Arthur opens his mouth to respond, another jab at Marston’s incompetence ready when Dutch tugs at the reins of the horse a little, causing them to come to a stop.

“Now, boys,” Dutch says, turning to look down at Arthur, ��ain’t nothing going to go wrong with this. We’re doing it quietly. You remember the safe Hosea had you pick?”

“Yeah.”

“Same thing this time around. We’ll be just fine,” Dutch says as he climbs off the wagon. He goes around, past Arthur, and helps Marston come down from his side. Arthur slides his way off the back of the wagon as well, following Dutch and Marston on the side of the road where buildings are being constructed. They’re a step or two ahead of him, but he catches up quickly, walking to Marston’s right while Dutch is on the left.

“So, what’s the plan, boss?” Marston asks.

“Not so loud, boy. You want everyone to know what the hell it is we’re doing here?” Arthur snaps.

“Now, Arthur. It’s alright,” Dutch reaches over Marston’s head and puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Dutch speaks in a lower voice when he answers Marston, “we’re gonna go in there. And you’re gonna stay calm, alright? No matter what happens. I tell you to shoot, you shoot. I tell you to wait, you wait. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Marston says as he reaches for his gun. Arthur reaches down to slap Marston’s hand away in a flash and hisses, “you listening at all, boy? You wait for Dutch’s call.”

Marston jerks his hand away from Arthur’s reach and glares up at him. Those tiny dirty eyes bother Arthur. They’re shit coloured. Any pile of horse shit could be Marston’s beady eyes looking up at him. Arthur glares right back.

“We’re here boys,” Dutch says as they arrive at the completed bank building that rests on a empty street corner. Dutch looks down at Marston and says, “John. You wait out here and keep lookout. Lawmen come, knock on the door three times loudly. Anything else happens you run and start screaming that you lost your momma. As loud as you can, son and get somewhere safe. We’ll meet up at the bridge we saw about two miles out.”

Arthur breaks into a smile at the sight of Marston’s face dropping.

“Yes, sir,” Marston says, the disappointment clear on his face.

Arthur drops his smile as Dutch turns to look at him now, “you ready, Arthur?” he asks.

Arthur nods. He’s as ready as can be. Dutch opens the door and slips his bandana over his nose. Arthur follows along and does the same.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. This is a robbery!” Dutch yells and the few people by the counters scream and cower.

A woman tries to run pas them and Arthur pulls his gun from his holster and jams the barrel into her stomach, “now, miss. I don’t think that’s a wise idea,” he growls from beneath the mask. The woman whimpers and backs away.

“Now, everyone, stay calm and no one shall get hurt. We want what’s in the safe, not your lives. We can end this amicably,” Dutch says, guns still pointed out at both sides of the building. He continues, “this is how things are going to go. The kind teller, what’s your name, miss?”

“M-Madeline…” the woman behind the counter says, backing away.

“Great, well, Miss Madeline, this is my friend Mister M,” Dutch gestures to Arthur and continues, “and you’re gonna be a kind host and show him to your vault, right? Would be such a shame if any harm were to come to these other kind folk because you chose to be rude.”

The panicked woman nods and Arthur follows her into the safe, gun raised. When she steps into the vault, three safes line the wall. Arthur shoves her forward toward one of them and says, “Open it.”

She kneels and begins to open. It occurs to Arthur that he could open another and save them some time. Do this faster than Marston ever could. He drops down beside her and presses his ear to the safe, turning the dial. He hears a soft click and turns the dial another way. He hears another soft click and Dutch steps through the doorway.

“What’s taking so long?” he asks.

Arthur looks up at him and says, “it’s going!”

The woman unlocks her safe and Dutch steps forward, moving her aside to grab the stacks of bills inside the safe. He tosses her aside and she lands on the ground with a thud as Arthur hears the final click of his own safe and opens it. He steps over to the other safe as Dutch bags the rest of the cash.

Arthur leans down and picks up the woman, leading her to the final safe. She starts on the dial and has the safe open within a few more moments. Arthur shoves her aside and has taken most of the bills when three loud bangs come from outside the vault doors.

“Shit,” Dutch says with a grunt. Arthur finishes bagging the cash when a lawman’s voice comes through.

“We’ve got this place surrounded! Come out with your hands up and we won’t kill you!”

“As mighty fine as that sounds, officer, I don’t think we’ll be doing that!” Dutch yells back, motioning for Arthur to get low and follow him behind the teller’s cage. Both Dutch and Arthur peer up behind the desk and get a look at the lawmen outside pointing guns at the cage.

“You got five seconds before we storm in there! This is your last chance!” the lawman yells.

“Five seconds to run, Arthur,” Dutch says in a lower voice as he dashes out from the door at the side of the teller’s cage and uses his entire body weight to smash through a window. Arthur follows, only just missing the gunfire behind him. Dutch breaks into a sprint and Arthur manages to keep up long enough for them to find horses to get away on.

It didn’t go as smoothly as it could have, but it went well enough, Arthur thinks. They got all of the money and the lawmen were lost a ways back. He’s proud of himself. They hitch the horses around the bridge Dutch had mentioned. They had to wait for Marston.

Arthur sits down and rests his back against a pillar holding the bridge up. He looks up at Dutch with a look of disdain and asks, “we can’t just come back for him later?”

“No, Arthur. Would you have preferred I left you those years back when you tried to jump what you thought was a well dressed construction worker?” Dutch asks, giving Arthur a knowing look.

“No..” Arthur mutters softly, but Dutch continues over him.

“And turned out to be a lawman? And I got away, but you were going to be arrested?”

“No, sir,” Arthur says, a little louder now, looking down at the heels of his boots.

“Then we wait,” Dutch says, leaning on the same pillar besides Arthur. He looks in the direction of Chicago, expecting Marston to come around at any moment.

They’re there for about an hour when they see a horse coming in the distance.

“Only took him the longest god damn time!” Arthur yells as he stands up and heads for the horse he’d stolen.

“That’s John, alright. But, he’s not driving,” Dutch says, still standing by the pillar. Arthur takes a look again and sure enough. John Marston, little fourteen year old John Marston, is hog tied and riding on the back of a man’s horse. Marston screams as the horse approaches them and doesn’t stop. They ride past Dutch and Arthur at an alarming speed.

“Shit,” Dutch and Arthur say simultaneously. Arthur’s on his horse in a second, with Dutch following just a bit behind. Arthur tugs at the reins of his horse, seeing the distance between him and John shorten. When he’s good and able to, he jumps from his horse directly at the rider of the horse John is hog tied to. The man lands on the ground with a loud thud and Arthur’s bodyweight atop of him. They struggle around as John screams in the background.

The man reaches for Arthur’s hair and tugs at it, making Arthur grunt and throw blind punches. Some connect, some don’t. The man scrambles to get up, tossing Arthur to the side. The man comes to a halt at the sight of Dutch, giving Arthur the opportunity to come up and tackle the man from behind.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Arthur yells as they hit the floor again. They flip around, so Arthur is sitting on the man’s chest, connecting punch after punch.

“That’s just a boy!” Arthur yells, “what in the hell were you thinking?! Just robbing a boy like that? What the hell were you going to do with him?!”

“That’s enough, Arthur,” Dutch says, the authority in his voice prominent. Arthur drops the man’s bloody head and steps away.

“We’re not killers,” Dutch says, coming off his horse. He steps over to the man on the ground and holds out his revolver, pointing the barrel directly at the man’s head. The man cries out.

“P-p-please, sir. Didn’t mean the boy no harm- just know a friend who relocates lost boys…” the man says through a bloody mouth.

“All those boys end up servants!” Arthur yells, moving to kneel down to punch the man again. Dutch holds an arm out, stopping Arthur from moving any further. Dutch instead kneels down and touches the barrel to the man’s forehead.

“We’re not killers,” he repeats, “but we could be. Remember that next time you want to try and pick up a boy off the streets. Many boys out there got fathers like me. I can’t promise they won’t shoot.” Dutch stands upright.

The man makes a sound, but is cut off by Dutch giving his head a swift kick, knocking him unconscious. Dutch leans down to grab the body, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Arthur, get John from down there. He rides with you,” Dutch says, walking off to the side to leave the body off the road. Arthur does as he’s told. He picks John up, puts him down, and unties him.

John pulls the gag out of his mouth and takes a deep breath, saying, “I thought I was a goner!”

Dutch laughs as he approaches them, responding, “no, boy. We never leave a man behind. Never. If we don’t got each other, what do we have?”

“Nothing,” Arthur answers.

“That’s right, Arthur,” Dutch says, hoisting himself up onto his horse. He continues, “now, come on, boys. I’m sure Hosea will be real happy to hear about how this went.”

“Yes, sir,” Arthur and John say in unison. Arthur motions for John to follow him as he jogs the bit of distance that his horse was left in. He climbs up with ease and holds out a hand for John to climb up behind him.

“You’re alright, Morgan,” John says, while holding onto Arthur’s side with a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You’re not, Marston,” Arthur responds, not missing a beat as he kicks at the horse, following behind Dutch.

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 19

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

SHADY BELLE, INSIDE THE MANSION

Slidin’ the rag up and down my rifle, I made sure all my weapons were ready to go while Eddie gathered his own gear, both of us preparing for the robbery.

Dutch still seemed confident in the plan that he and Micah created, and no one else had protested the scheme yet, but Hosea and I...well...we wasn’t so sure.

I mean, robbin’ a national bank was risky enough, considering how heavy the security was -- but starting another robbery on the other side of town just to distract the law for a few minutes...it felt like suicide. I knew Dutch thought he was buyin’ us some time -- and that we’d be in and out within minutes -- but to me, this plan just seemed like it was gonna end up painting an even bigger target on our backs. And that was the last thing we needed right now.

Ah, well...it was clear to me that there weren’t no use in tryin’ to convince Dutch. For whatever foolish reason, he appeared to be taking Micah’s advice to heart recently, and I knew better than to go in circles with the old man.

I was just worried about what we’d do if things didn’t go accordin’ to plan today. Not only would our gang be split up, we would’ve also attracted the law to both sides of the city, makin’ it much easier for them to corner us.

I just hoped I’d be able to keep Eddie safe. That boy was about to throw himself into one of the most dangerous heists we’d pulled off since Blackwater, and I was gonna do everything I possibly could to ensure he’d get back out.

The money may’ve been Dutch’s main concern today, but the pianist was mine.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” I asked Eddie, earning a hesitant sigh from the boy.

“...Well, I’m not too fond of the idea of robbing people,” he admitted, “but if Dutch is willing to let me stay in his camp, then the least I can do is help the gang earn some money.”

I slipped my revolvers into my holsters, shrugging in response. “If you’re sure. It’s just...there’s a whole lot that could go wrong with this plan, and I wanna make sure you ain’t caught in the worst of it if it does.”

Eddie walked up to me and began straightening my suit, adjustin’ my tie while he spoke.

“I’ll be okay,” he reassured. “I have you by my side, don’t I?”

I smiled at him. “Always.”

The boy let out a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling in a reminiscent manner as he tidied me up.

“You know, Arthur...when we first met, I never imagined I’d be robbing a bank with you one day. Hell, I didn’t imagine any of this. But...despite the struggles we may face, and the many things we’ve fought through to get here, I just want to let you know -- I’m glad to have you with me.”

I beamed at the compliment and retrieved my bandana, tyin’ the accessory around my neck.

“The feeling’s mutual. You happy you joined the gang though? I know these people ain’t exactly your typical civilians, but they’re alright. ...Most of ‘em.”

The pianist nodded. “I am. Miss Grimshaw introduced me to Tilly and Karen yesterday. I had quite a lengthy talk with them, actually. And Mary-Beth as well. She told me she wants to be an author someday. I never expected there to be so many artists in the gang...but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Considering who the leader is.”

I quirked a brow. “You see Dutch as an artist?”

“Perhaps not an artist himself, but he certainly appreciates it. He’s always reading that Evelyn Miller, and the way he speaks to the gang is quite poetic most of the time. Makes me think Dutch is a romantic. Much like yourself.”

“...Heh, I guess he is,” I replied, decidin’ to change the subject. “So...you’ve met the women in camp. You met any of the men yet?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “Well, Micah’s approached me a few times.”

I chortled at that. “I said men, not snakes.”

The musician returned the laugh. “I’ve spoken with Micah, Hosea, John, Dutch...and Bill is surprisingly interested in my work as a pianist.”

I paused. “Really? Huh. Never pegged him for the...musical type. But I guess we all got our secrets. It’s good to hear the gang’s welcoming you though. I honestly weren’t expectin’ Dutch to let you in in the first place. He’s been...skeptical of newcomers recently.”

“I don’t blame him,” Eddie said. “Sounds like you guys have had it rough for a while now. Hopefully, today’s robbery turns that around.”

I gave him an assuring nod. “That’s the plan.”

Interrupting our conversation before we could talk further, Dutch suddenly strolled into the mansion with an assertive kick of the door as the rest of the gang followed him inside, all of them geared up and ready to go.

Everyone was dressed in opulent clothing and had either a bandana or a mask hangin’ around their neck to hide their identity, and the more the image of Micah wearin’ a tight suit ingrained itself into my brain, the more I felt the urge to back outta this heist.

An ecstatic grin radiated on Dutch’s face.

“Gentlemen!” he proudly announced, glancing around the room. “It’s time. The Lemoyne National Bank has waited for long enough, but we are finally ready to hit it. Is everyone clear on the plan?”

There was a confirming silence.

“Good. Then let me explain who’s doin’ what.”

Dutch pointed out a few of the gang members.

“Hosea, Javier, John, and Charles -- the four of you will be in charge of distractin’ the law. Go to the trolley station, and make some noise. Start a robbery. Do whatever it takes to attract the law there, and try to keep them there for as long as possible. We shouldn’t need too long, but you never know what could happen.”

He turned to everyone else, givin’ each of us specific tasks.

“The rest o’ you,” Dutch addressed, “are with me. We’ll wait until they have the law’s attention, and then we are hittin’ that bank hard. Sadie and Lenny, I want you two to keep watch. Let us know the minute you see any lawmen, and we’ll focus on gettin’ the money.”

“Bill and Micah” he continued, “you just make sure everyone in that bank behaves themselves and stays in place. I don’t want no trouble from the security or the civilians -- we got enough to worry about as is.”

Dutch brought his attention to me.

“Arthur, your job is to get that vault open. But avoid using dynamite. We don’t wanna raise the alarm before we’ve even got the money. And as for you, Eddie, you can help Mister Morgan crack the safes. Make the process a little faster. In case things go wrong today though, we need an escape route outta the city. Now, you know Saint Denis better than any of us...so what d’you think is the best way out?”

Before Eddie could reply, Micah jumped in and offered his own idea, cuttin’ the boy off.

“We could take the back alleys.” He proposed.

The pianist rejected the recommendation.

“No,” he responded. “The alleyways are too narrow for all of us. If we go in there, the law will cage us in within seconds.”

Dutch considered the advice. “Then what do you suggest?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. “...Ironically, the best way out of the city would probably be through the more populated streets. If we can put enough civilians between us and the law, we’ll slow them down drastically. Not to mention there are also trams and stagecoaches going around all the time, adding even more obstacles for them to maneuver around.”

The other man slowly nodded in approval. “Makes sense.”

“We have to move fast though,” Eddie warned. “If we aren’t careful, we could be trapped in the crowd, too.”

“Sounds good,” Dutch agreed. “Well, alright then. I’d say we’re good to go.” He addressed the rest of the gang. “Everyone! ...Are we ready?”

I picked up my shotgun, slingin’ it over my shoulder.

“Ready as we’ll ever be, Dutch.”

The man smiled excitedly, his expression glowing with a passion for larceny as that ever so familiar spark returned to his dark eyes.

“...Then let’s empty this goddamn bank.”

A WHILE LATER

LEMOYNE NATIONAL BANK

Blowing their whistles while they bolted across the packed city, a group of lawmen came rushing past us as we hid in a nearby alleyway, waitin’ for our opportunity to strike.

At the moment, it didn’t seem like anyone had caught onto our plan, and with most of the law hurrying over to deal with our distraction, we had roughly about ten minutes to get in, get everythin’ we could, and get the hell out. Jesus, I really hoped this plan worked.

Just by standin’ next to the bank, I could already hear a large amount of muffled voices comin’ from the inside, and the fact that we was doing this in broad daylight didn’t exactly help to ease my nerves.

We were out in the open, and the law would be back on our asses at any minute.

We had to move. Now.

“Alright, cowboys,” Dutch whispered lowly through his bandana, “this is it. You all know what to do. Be quick, and be thorough. Let’s get this done!”

Marching out of our hidin’ spot, Dutch stormed his way to the bank’s entrance as the rest of us followed him, constantly checking over our shoulders to make sure no one was tailing us.

There were civilians strollin’ around all over the place, and a few of their gazes had fallen onto us already, but so far, no one seemed to have figured out just exactly what we were doing.

Now was our chance to hit.

Swinging the bank’s doors open with a forceful push, Dutch whipped out his revolvers and sauntered inside, immediately catching everyone’s attention as their heads jolted in our direction.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called out, raising his guns, “this is a robbery!”

Bill instantly bashed the stock of his rifle into a civilian’s head while Micah held the rest at gunpoint, causing all of them to let out a series of panicked shrieks and screams as they stumbled to the floor.

“Stay down!” Micah demanded, bringing everyone to their knees. “Unless you wanna get shot!”

Dutch turned to me, gesturing to the vault’s door. “Mister M, Mister R! Get that vault open!”

I aimed my own gun at the bank manager and grabbed him by the collar, aggressively hurling the man towards the vault as he yelped out of fear.

“You think we’re foolin’ around?” I shouted at him. “Open the goddamn vault!”

“O-Okay! Okay!” He whimpered, throwing his hands in the air. “Just, please! Don’t hurt--!”

I slammed the grip of my revolver into his head. “I ain’t interested! Just get it open! Now!”

Turning the vault’s lock with a trembling hand, the manager hurriedly followed my instructions and put the combo in, both me and Eddie waitin’ by as we frantically glanced around the bank.

Even with a bandana covering half his face, I could still tell Eddie wasn’t happy with me, and he clearly disapproved of this entire heist. I knew he understood why we had to do this, and he showed no signs of backin’ out so far, but unlike the rest of the gang, the pianist still had his morals.

I was just worried about how this would affect his image of me. He always told me I was a better man than I implied, but...after today’s events, I wasn’t so sure he’d think the same way. Lord. What a goddamned mess this was.

Finally opening the vault’s door with a metallic creak, the manager quickly backed away while I got to work and rushed inside, wastin’ no time in cracking the safes.

“I’m openin’ the safes!” I told Eddie. “Would you kindly get the combos outta our friend here?”

The boy whipped the side of his gun into the manager’s head, leavin’ a rather nasty gash. “What’s the combination?!”

A pained shout escaped the manager and he cowered away from Eddie’s firearm, shakily spittin’ out the numbers one by one.

“S-Seventy-two!” he blubbered out, “Fifty-four! T-Twenty-eight!”

The safe practically fell open once I hit the last number, revealing a beautiful stack of cash on the inside. I instantly snatched the money and shoved it into my pouch, movin’ onto the next.

“Got it! Next one!”

While I worked on the rest of the safes, Dutch brought his attention to Lenny and peered outside the bank’s windows, his body gettin’ a little restless due to our limited time.

“Mister S!” He called out. “How’s it looking?”

“So far, so good!” Lenny replied. “But we gotta get this moving!”

Dutch turned to me. “You hear that, Mister M?”

“I’m on it!” I exclaimed back. “Just got a couple safes left! Mister R?”

Eddie cocked his gun at the manager. “Next combo!” He demanded.

The manager let out a quivering breath, horrified for his life. “Thirty! N-Ninety-five! Seventeen!”

Nearly ripping the safe’s door off its hinges, I fumbled through the valuables sittin’ inside and grabbed as much as I could carry, bringing my attention to the third one.

“Next!”

The manager didn’t even give Eddie a chance to hit him again. “Forty-one! E-Eighty-five! Sixty-seven!”

There was even more money in this one than the last -- and like the petty thief I was -- I shoveled the cash into my bag without a second thought, hopping to the adjacent safe...but there was an interruption.

“Gentlemen!” Sadie alerted. “We have a problem! There are lawmen comin’ our way!”

Dutch cursed. “Already? Shit! Mister M, how much you got?”

I glanced inside my pouch. “There must be thousands of dollars in here!”

Despite his reluctance to leave, Dutch took Sadie’s advice and cut the robbery short, urging all of us to evacuate.

“Then that’ll have to do. Everyone! We got what we need! Grab what you can, and let’s get the hell outta here! Mister R, we’ll follow your lead!”

Jogging to the bank’s front doors, Eddie peeked outside and checked our surroundings, lowering his voice slightly.

“Okay, looks like we’ve got a few lawmen surrounding the bank,” he informed. “But we should be able to take them down and stick to the original plan. What do you think?”

Dutch got a good look for himself, patting Eddie on the shoulder.

“I think we’ll be just fine.” He beckoned the rest of us. “Gentlemen! Let’s ride!”

Hurrying out of the vault, I followed Eddie and Dutch through the bank’s exit as the gang hastily took its leave, all of us immediately gunning down the lawmen as soon as we stepped through the front door.

A choir of screams instantly erupted from the civilians surrounding us, all of them scrambling around the streets in panic as we made our way to our horses.

“There they are!” One of the lawmen shouted. “Don’t let ‘em escape!”

Practically leaping onto my horse’s saddle, I mounted up and fired a number of shots at the lawmen chasin’ us before breaking into a sprint, galloping side-by-side with Eddie as we led the gang outta Saint Denis.

“This way!” He instructed, takin’ a sharp turn.

By now, there was folks boltin’ left and right all over the place as we slithered through the thick crowds, causing people to throw themselves out of the way before we could trample over them.

The sounds of gunfire, whistles blaring, civilians hollering, and horses neighing all filled the air along with my own heartbeat as it hammered in my ears, fueling me with an adrenaline like no other.

It didn’t look like the law was gonna let us go quite as easily as we had hoped, but fortunately, they seemed to be fallin’ behind the mayhem just like Eddie said they would, giving us just a few more minutes to escape.

I whipped my reins, urging my horse to pick up the pace.

“Come on!” Eddie encouraged. “We’re almost out!”

Ridin’ through the packed streets, the gang wildly charged its way across the city like the goddamned cavalry as it shot down any lawmen that got too close, leavin’ a trail of smoke and corpses in its wake.

There were stagecoaches and trams rolling all throughout Saint Denis, and we was forced to swerve our way around them as some of the lawmen got stuck behind the convenient obstacles, leading them to lose sight of the gang. Our plan was working.

“Just a little further!” Eddie called out, gesturing to the city’s exit that was comin’ up in the distance. I fired a series of bullets behind me, puttin’ down the lawmen that were tailing us.

“Nearly there, gentlemen!” Dutch announced. “Don’t get tired on me just yet!”

Puttin’ all my energy into the last bit of this escape, I kicked my spurs into the side of my mount, causing her to haul ass towards the bridge that led outta Saint Denis as the lawmen started closing in on us.

At this point, it looked like they had figured out the “robbery” at the trolley station was nothin’ more than a distraction, and the longer we remained in this dreadful city, the more of ‘em there seemed to be.

But we could still make it. We could still take the money.

And I’d be damned if we didn’t.

Racing across the bridge, the gang rode like there was no tomorrow as we approached the other side, only to hear a familiar voice calling out to us from the woods just before we could leave.

It was John.

“Get clear of the bridge y’all!” He shouted. “I’m about to blow it to hell!”

Making ourselves scarce, we all made sure to put a decent amount of distance between us and the bridge just as the law started gaining on us, queuing John to get ready.

With a simple pull of a trigger, Marston suddenly split the bridge in half as he shot the generous amount of dynamite he had placed on the side, sending lawmen flyin’ all over the place due to the thunderous impact.

Dutch let out a hearty laugh at the sight. “Oh, John! You are a genius!”

John mounted his own horse and joined our group, shaking his head. “Actually, it was Hosea’s idea. He figured you’d be comin’ this way. Thought we could help smoothen the ride.”

“And where is he?”

“Back at camp,” Marston replied. “Hosea and the others made it back early.”

Dutch grinned. “Then let’s not keep them waitin’ any longer.” He glanced over his shoulder, lookin’ back at the rest of us.

“Gentlemen! We made it!” A victorious guffaw escaped him.

“We goddamn made it!”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

SHADY BELLE

Returning to camp like a group of esteemed heroes, Dutch, Eddie, and I hopped off our horses while the rest of the gang settled in, all of us tired but also filled with exhilaration thanks to the pile of cash now sittin’ in our pockets.

The plan admittedly went much better than I first expected, and despite the many fears I had goin’ into this heist, I couldn’t lie: my faith was well-placed this time.

It turned out Dutch actually knew what he was talkin’ about after all, and regardless of any disagreements the gang might’ve had with each other in the past, every single one of us owed Dutch our thanks. We was a whole lot richer now because of that man, and with the newfound wealth we just stole, we had a lotta opportunities waitin’ for us to seize them.

Heh. I guessed there was hope for us yet.

Yanking my bandana off my face, I fed my horse a quick treat and sauntered towards the mansion, only to find an elated Hosea walkin’ up to me.

The old man smiled proudly in my direction and patted me on the shoulder, glancing at the sacks of money now resting in our camp.

“Well done, Arthur,” Hosea praised with a friendly chuckle. “Well done. Dutch said you guys weren’t able to take everything in the bank, but this should still be more than enough.”

I returned the smile, beaming happily at him. “You think we’ll finally be able to leave?”

“Not to another country perhaps,” he answered, “but we should be able to look further beyond the horizon now. Lord knows I’ve had enough of this godforsaken swamp. It’ll be nice to settle down someplace else.”

“Absolutely.” I agreed.

Hosea brought his gaze to Eddie who was currently helping Pearson carry in some of the sacks. “And what about the boy? He make it out alright?”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, I think so, but...he ain’t happy, Hosea. During the whole robbery, he just had this look of disgust in his eyes. Especially after the way he saw me beat the bank manager. I think he’s feelin’ a bit guilty.”

The old man nodded in understanding. “Eddie’s not used to this life like the rest of us, Arthur. You need to give him time to adjust. Let him adapt to our world. He’ll come around eventually. But I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. Eddie seems happy to be with you. As long as you’re around, he’ll stay strong.”

A question suddenly popped up in my mind.

“Hey, that reminds me, I’ve been meanin’ to ask -- back when we was talking to Dutch about letting Eddie in the gang, you compared him to Annabelle. And Bessie.”

Hosea paused. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that not the relationship between you two?”

“No, it is,” I corrected. “I was just wondering how you knew. Did Eddie tell you?”

The old man smirked. “Didn’t need to. I, ah...I saw the way you interacted with each other back at that gala. It was a dead giveaway.”

I chuckled, admittedly slightly embarrassed. “...Ah. I see.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur,” Hosea reassured. “I know some of the fellas here have been pokin’ fun at you because of it, but truth be told, people like me, and Dutch, and Susan...we’re just happy to see you’ve finally moved on from Miss Gillis.”

A soft flutter filled my chest, and I bashfully rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Mary was a sweet girl,” he reminisced, “and the two of you made some wonderful memories during your time as a couple...but that’s all in the past. You and Eddie, on the other hand, have a future together. You have a chance to make something out of it. Though, that won’t happen if you allow him to continue down the path he’s currently on.”

I quirked a brow. “What d’you mean?”

Hosea gave me a sorrowful gaze, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“...I know you were stuck in bed this past week, Arthur, but I’ve actually spoken to Eddie quite a bit since he first arrived, and I know about his past. I know Atticus Rose killed his entire family.”

“...Yeah,” I confirmed. “He’s the last one left.”

“And that ain’t easy,” Hosea empathized. “You know that. I know that. Hell, most of the people in this gang know that. But the thing that concerns me the most about Eddie is...he seems adamant to take revenge. He wants to make Atticus pay for what he’s done, and rightfully so. But you and I both know vengeance is a fool’s errand.”

“That it is.”

The old man switched to a more cautionary tone. “Eddie can be of use to us, Arthur. Not only is he a good shot, he’s also smart. We need that. But he needs you to help guide his strength in the right direction. Don’t let his desire for revenge consume him. Show him how to find peace in acceptance, and keep him safe. Can you do that?”

I gave Hosea a sincere look, peering at him from under the shadow cast by my hat.

“I intend to.”

He seemed to approve of that response. “Good. I’ve seen too many folks be killed as a result of their own actions, and I don’t know if I could watch the same thing happen to Eddie. ...But enough of that. I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure Dutch could use your help, and I’ve got matters of my own to attend to. Take care of yourself, Arthur. Things are getting rough out th--”

Zipping right past me and interrupting our conversation, a bullet suddenly implanted itself into Hosea’s forehead with a sharp bang, causing the man’s blood to splatter onto me as he collapsed to the ground.

“What the--?!” I breathed out, frantically darting my eyes around as Hosea fell into my arms.

I dropped the man out of shock and immediately dove behind one of the camp’s barricades as another bullet came flyin’ my way, causing me to suddenly notice the horde of strangers shootin’ at us from the woods.

“...Sh-Shit!” I cursed, whipping out my guns. “Everyone! Take cover!”

Changing into fight mode, the entire gang instantly dropped what they were doing and began shooting back as they scurried behind whatever cover they could find, all of us forgettin’ about the money we just robbed.

“What the hell is this shit?!” Williamson exclaimed, cocking his rifle. “Who are these people?!”

Javier poked his head out, firing aimlessly into the forest. “Is that the law?”

“No!” I yelled back. “They don’t look like lawmen!”

“Who then? O’Driscolls?”

Dutch jumped in, puttin’ an end to our speculation. “We will figure out who these bastards are later! For now, just shoot them!”

I finally regained a portion of the senses I lost from the initial shock and stared at Hosea’s body, suddenly feelin’ like my blood was boiling once his death sunk in.

“Aw, Hosea...!” I growled through gritted teeth. “They got Hosea, Dutch!”

A dark fire ignited in his eyes.

“Goddammit...!” He whispered, his voice abruptly exploding into a hoarse shout as he began gunning down as many people as he could.

“KILL those sons-of-bitches!”

Aiming directly at my head, one of the men shot the barricade I was hidin’ behind as I ducked outta the way, causing wood and dust to splinter everywhere before I fired straight back at them.

“Eddie!” I shouted over the commotion. “Are you alive?!”

A distant voice answered me.

“I’m right here!” The boy replied.

“Good! Keep it that way!”

Continuing to shoot at our unknown enemy, I desperately fought back with nothin’ but a flimsy wall shielding me and no more than twelve bullets to defend myself as they rained hell upon us, filling my cover with more and more holes.

I was currently in one of the worst positions to be in at the moment, and since I weren’t too far from the camp’s entrance, I had the biggest target painted on my back right now.

I was running low on ammo, and I had no idea how much longer this barricade would hold up. I’d have to move soon if I wanted to stay alive.

“Has anyone seen Jack?!” John exclaimed. “If any of those assholes laid a finger on him, I swear I’ll kill them all!”

Charles fired his shotgun. “Christ...where did they even come from? How many of them are there?!”

“None once we’re done with them!” Dutch replied.

Pulling the trigger on my gun, I shot a few more bullets in their direction and put down a number of men, only to hear an empty click once I reached the end.

Shit! I couldn’t run out of ammo. Not now.

Holstering that revolver, I relied on the few remaining shots in my other one as I hurriedly maneuvered my way around the camp, dodging the oncoming fire and rolling into safety.

By now, there was bullets of all types soaring through the air in about eight different directions as they whistled past my ears, causing me to hear a sharp, ringing noise while I continued to fight.

All around me, I could see nothin’ but corpses that had been shot to hell, dirt and blood flyin’ all over the place due to the impact, gun-smoke clouding the air, and a seemingly endless army of enemies pouring out the woods. It was hell on Earth.

“Arthur!” Eddie called out. “Watch out!”

Glancing to my side, I spotted a sniper not too far away from me and managed to dodge their attack just in time as Eddie put his own bullet in the man’s head, leading his body to jolt backwards.

The pianist ran over to my location once the sniper was down, his hands clinging onto his Schofield for dear life as he slid next to me.

“You okay?” I asked him. Eddie nodded, albeit without confidence.

“For now. Jesus -- how did we not see them coming? There’s so many of them!”

“Just focus on killing ‘em! We’ll sort all this out afterwards!”

Lending me his other revolver, Eddie peeked over the top of the barricade and shot a few men who had gotten too close to the camp, getting back down just as another bullet came bolting in his direction.

The crowd of enemies seemed to be thinning out by now, and as far as I was aware, no one else had gotten killed...but even then, we were in deep shit.

We had just lost one of our best men -- a man who was like a father to me -- and now that Hosea was gone, I had no idea how Dutch was gonna cope with this.

It felt like I had just watched a flame be extinguished, and I doubted it was gonna get any easier from here on out. The gang’s lieutenant was dead, our camp was in ruins, and worst of all, we had no idea who was responsible.

Jesus. What a goddamned mess this was.

Gunning down what appeared to be the last man, Dutch took a moment to observe our surroundings as a deathly silence loomed over us following the end of the fight, our heavy breaths being the only audible sound right now.

We didn’t hear anything else. There were no movements, no footsteps, no gunfire...nothing. Did we make it? Had we truly won...? It certainly didn’t feel like a victory.

Slowly rising from cover, Eddie and I gradually stood up from the ground along with the rest of the gang as we came outta hiding, only to see what had become of our home.

There were countless bodies littering the entire property, the front of the mansion was covered in bullet holes, Hosea lay motionless in a cluster of red grass, and some of our horses had even been killed too. It looked like somethin’ straight out of a nightmare, and I mentally yelled at myself to snap out of it...but I knew this weren’t no dream.

This was reality.

And it was time for us to wake up.

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his eyes widened with shock and despair. “Is...is it over...?”

I stared blankly into the trees, suddenly feelin’ so lost and alone.

“I think so,” I murmured. “I...I dunno.”

Countering our morose mood, Dutch stormed over and took a look at Hosea’s corpse for himself, his jaw clenching in rage and heartbreak once he saw that his brother was indeed gone.

The man appeared more broken than I had ever seen in my life, and the longer he gazed hopelessly around the camp, unsure of what to do with himself...the more I feared some part of Dutch may’ve died with Hosea too. It was clear that somethin’ in him had snapped, and for the first time ever, I weren’t sure if I could mend it.

My God...what the hell was happening?

Before we could mourn any further however, a soft rustle emitted from the woods in front of us, causing everyone to perk their heads up in curiosity.

All our hands were instantly resting on our guns’ grips, and it looked like a group of people was headin’ our way...but we still couldn’t tell who they were. They didn’t wear the uniform of the law, and they didn’t resemble O’Driscolls either. In fact, I had never seen anyone like these fools. ...So just who the hell were they, exactly?

Answering my question, a familiar face suddenly emerged from the shadows, giving me a sense of dread and fear I hadn’t felt in ages.

The stranger was approaching our gang with a child in tow as his friends followed behind -- and the closer they got to our camp’s entrance, the more I started to recognize them.

Oh, shit. This was the last thing we needed.

Rodrick Kingsley gave me a malicious grin as he let out a low chuckle, the barrel of his gun pressed directly against the back of Jack’s head.

“...Remember me, sunshine?”

John instantly flew into a rage at the sight of his son, and he wasted no time in running towards him.

“Jack!”

Rodrick strengthened his hold on the gun, warning Marston to stay back.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, cowboy.”

John came to an abrupt halt, his eyes nailed onto Jack as the boy called for help.

“Pa...!” The child exclaimed. “I’m...I’m scared!”

“I know, Jack,” Marston comforted. “I know. But it’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna get you back! I won’t let these people hurt you! It’s going to be alright.”

A third, unknown voice stepped in the conversation.

“Enough, Rodrick.”

Calmly approaching the front of the group, an older man came sauntering out of the gun-smoke as he took a position in the middle, his stern, blue eyes never leaving Dutch.

The man appeared to be in his late forties and had a groomed, graying beard covering half of the wishbone-shaped scar on his right cheek, and his hair was hidden beneath a Gaucho hat.

He wore a chocolate, leather duster over a gray vest and red shirt, and had a pair of sleek riding boots covering his neat pants.

This man definitely looked like he could be their leader. He carried a slightly regal nature to him, and had the temperament of someone who’d rather kill than forgive. Despite the cold-blooded impression he made though, there was also something...almost fatherly about him. Like a strange sense of reason and wisdom that he somehow managed to preserve over the years. Similar to the way Hosea was...only minus the compassion.

Dutch steadily walked up to the man with his hands near his holsters as both our gangs stared each other down, silently demanding answers with a simple glare.

He tried to keep his tone as tame as possible.

“...Who...are you?”

The other man examined Dutch for a minute and looked him back in the eye, not even blinking once as he promptly uttered a response.

“Atticus,” the man replied. “Atticus Rose.”

[filmstruck]

STAGECOACH (’39): America on Celluloid by Greg Ferrara

There’s a tendency in the study of any art form to pin down the work that gave birth to a new movement in a particular medium. Miles Davis’ album Kind of Blue was seen, then and now, as a gateway to greater exploration in jazz improvisation and a solidifying of the cool jazz dominance over bebop and swing. James Joyce’s Ulysses was seen as the modernist novel’s seminal moment, the foundation of a movement in literature still expanding outward to this day. And the cinema is no different. But while many might turn to the works of Eisenstein or Griffith as setting up the language of cinema, or Welles for bringing it all together in the sound era, my personal choice has always been John Ford’s STAGECOACH. It is the perfect synthesis between silent and sound, comedy and drama, intimate tale and epic adventure. And in its very story and personal prejudices, the perfect representation of American film.

It is an oft-told story that Orson Welles watched STAGECOACH numerous times in preparation for making CITIZEN KANE (‘41). Whether this is true or not (Welles was quite the teller of tall tales) matters not so much as the fact that Welles knew STAGECOACH was the movie to watch if you wanted to learn about cinema. But STAGECOACH is also the film to watch if you want to learn something about American history. No, not because it portrays anything remotely close to actual history, but because its portrayal of Native Americans reflects the attitudes of most Americans in the 1930s, and this very unsympathetic and barbarous portrayal colored the image of the Plains Indians for decades to come. STAGECOACH, in both cinematic form, and questionable morality, is quite possibly more American than any other work of cinema. To paraphrase a line from Francis Ford Coppola, “STAGECOACH isn’t about America. STAGECOACH is America.”

At the center of STAGECOACH is an outlaw named Ringo. The character was played by John Wayne and it simultaneously invented Wayne as a personality and the cowboy as the icon of American individualism. From the introductory shot of Ringo stopping the coach by brazenly standing it down, and every shot after, Ringo is portrayed in a heroic light. He’s an outlaw, but the kind Americans understand. He fights the good fight, even if it breaks the law. He’s a man of principle above all else. Even now, in the story, he is a fugitive but one on a moral mission, to kill those that killed those he loved.

The other characters play around Ringo and play off the idea of American archetypes. There’s the Southern gentlemen from Virginia, Hatfield (John Carradine), standing in for the myth of the Noble Cause, perpetuated by the Dunning school of thought so prominent at the time. His service in the Confederacy is seen as an admirable thing, and it is revealed that he was under the command of the father of one of the other coach passengers, the pregnant Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt). He’s a scoundrel and a gambler, to be sure, but a man who will take a bullet for a lady.

There’s the prostitute, Dallas (Claire Trevor), standing in for, and against, America’s ongoing battle with its Puritan origins. Dallas was run out of town by a “moral” society, and several years into the Depression— and only a few years after the repeal of Prohibition— Americans were weary of moralizing prudes. Movies like STAGECOACH obliged by including the “prostitute with a heart of gold” character whose struggles the average American could understand.

There’s the corrupt banker (Berton Churchill), the stalwart marshal (George Bancroft), the everyman coach driver (Andy Devine), the cavalry officer (Tim Holt), and, of course, the one-dimensional, violent, and savage Plains Indians. STAGECOACH perfectly sums up just about every myth an average American believed in 1939, or wanted to believe: The war between the states was a noble effort by the South; savages in the West were trying to stop the westward destiny of Americans; and the American man was a virile, no-nonsense man of principle who fights for justice, even at the risk of his own freedom.

Conspicuously absent from all of this is any sign of the people who built the nation back east (African slaves) or made possible the expansion into the west (Chinese laborers). America moves westward using the fruits of their labors but denying them the same benefits. Non-Europeans were not yet a part of the American mythos, and their absence signals as much. What’s fascinating is that in the effort to paint the stagecoach travelers as individualists marching towards destiny against the primitive tribal hordes who would hold them back, the story ends up painting a far more accurate picture of the American story than it knew. Just not in the way it intended.

And all of it filmed by John Ford in the most extraordinarily fluid way imaginable. The camera rolling up to Ringo’s face, the crouched interior of the coach, the high-speed tracking shot of Ringo making his way under the coach, the quick cut edits of the final chase/battle, the cavalry coming to the rescue, and the use of Monument Valley as a backdrop for the frontier of the West— all of it done so expertly as to remove all doubt why anyone would want to watch it 40 times to understand how movies are made.

I have never been of the school of thought that we should avoid works of art from previous eras because they no longer fit into our desired societal models or don’t feel calibrated to our current moral compasses. Just the opposite, I find such work all the more important as a living document to our past beliefs, bigotries and rituals; to our stories and legends and national religions. And any iconic American work should be a work that outrages as well as intellectually invigorates. Any movie that can claim a right to be the seminal work of American filmmaking, to be representative of America at the time it was made, and perhaps long after, almost has to be offensive on some, or many, levels to mesh with the rich, complicated, inspiring and yet troubled history of this country. STAGECOACH is that movie, and to that end I believe it is the most deeply American movie ever made.

[talesofnecromancy]

April 2018 #399

(#398 is not part of this record because melodrama is tedious.)

H: (coughing) Girl - come here. (embraces me until I stop shaking) You want coffee?

Me: I dunno if I can drink it but I’d love coffee.

H: Here - you sit… (odd hissing sort of whistle) Gin? Gin girl, you about? (he made the strange whistle again and was answered by a feline ‘prroook?’ and one small cat) There’s my girl! (picking her up) would you keep our guest company? Thank you darlin’.

(Gin sits by me and lets me pet her)

H: Coffee.

Me: Thank you.

H: I ask to see that arm, it gonna fall off?

Me: No, but I only just stuck it together.

H: I can scent the blood from here.

Me: Sorry.

H: What set you off?

Me: Dunno. Does it matter?

H: I suppose not. …Here. (he helps me drink a little of the coffee)

Me: It’s hot! It’s good though. Did you put spices in it?

H: No.

Me: It tastes of something like spices and… you put laudanum in my coffee.

H: Yes. A drop.

Me: Can’t say I blame you.

H: I don’t mean to harry you darlin’, but do you have a plan?

Me: A plan?

H: How to move through, around, or with what you have in your heart right now. Patients are given a regime of care. Soldiers are given orders. Whether sickness or battle there are plans.

Me: I think this is one last bout of melodrama before ‘getting on with my life’ when my papers arrive and I go and live with Kal.

H: Do you see it that way?

Me: I’m not sure. I think part of me does. Kal decided I should have an artist’s studio and necromancer’s lair - he’s quite taken with the idea. He also wants to make the perfect board so we can talk and not get tired by it.

H: (coughing) You do not approve.

Me: He wants to insert himself into proceedings, to be part of it whether I wish him to or not.

H: For what it’s worth (coughing) I am content with the board we have.

Me: But it tires you.

H: As it does you. Piano ties me. Dancing tires me. Riding tires me. And the devil may claw in as he pleases - fuck him.

Me: (amused) I never knew you could swear in cursive.

H: Pardon?

Me: Don’t mind me. Whilst it was well meant on Kal’s behalf, I don’t think he understands why I’m less keen. He understands me very well ninety per cent of the time but the other ten per cent I don’t think he gets at all.

H: He has a mode of living and behaviour and you fit into that, but… K never liked W much. Didn’t like it when I spent time or money on enterprises she considered beneath me. She saw in me - we saw in one another - echoes of pasts lost. Because of that… we did not always expect what was practical of one another. … You look displeased.

Me: Don’t - it’s like the stagecoach robbery all over again.

H: O?

Me: There was a journalist who made up a lot of stuff about you - straight out lies that have been discredited. But for a time he was believed. He said you hit K - and I loathe him for saying it.

H: …That… is an accusation I never thought I need refute. I have been called many things in my time - some of them deserved - but that… that makes me sick to my stomach.

Me: What would you do if you were in a fight with a lady?

H: Who’s the lady?

Me: Let’s go in order of respectability: southern belle, a townswoman, a working girl, and a witch.

H: A ‘belle’ as you term her, may slap but it’s kittenish to be frank. I would find myself more in danger of laughing than slipping my temper. A diatribe from a townswoman may sting, but if she’d rather rant than ever ask a question I’d ignore her. Just another aspect of town life like the cattle drive and its leavings. I should hope no dove ever felt cause to raise voice or hand to me. (coughing) Is the witch you?

Me: Possibly. No idea.

H: Well, I should hope a witch would call me out so we could settle the matter like gentlemen.

Me: (laughing) D’you know there were ladies who fought duels? Mostly in the eighteenth century. There was a French woman - Julie d’Aubigny - who fought loads. Would you ever duel a lady - like in a gunfight?

H: ...If there was truly no other choice. But I would not feel easy about it.

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