#and then we have people like crispy rat over here just talking in their normal voice

[minnnieminmin]

Chris Pratt using his normal voice as Garfield meanwhile Robert Pattinson over here using his most fucked up gremlin voice to play a bird that you wouldn't even know it was him until you saw the credits

[diredigression]

Dire’s Sole: The Aftermath of Olivia

A quick intermission after Satellite Station Olivia where Sole finally starts learning what to expect from the wasteland. Next she has to learn how to cope with it.

Mr. Sturges pushes her down into a chair and shoves a beer in her hand. “Talk.”

She focuses on examining the yellowed label on the bottle. Gwinnett Stout. It’ll do. She’d have preferred an ale, or better, maybe whiskey. She picks at the label, and it flakes off under her nails. The paper is crispy and the glue has dried. It almost feels hundreds of years old. Maybe…maybe it is.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

It’s the second evening after the chaos of Station Olivia. After finding the locket and returning to Sanctuary, Mr. Garvey had put Sole to bed and insisted that she recuperate from her injury a day or two before making the trek back out to the Abernathy’s. Now the three of them are gathered in the neighbor’s house, seated on ancient, mildewed armchairs, with the stray dog that had earlier attached itself to them crunching on a stick in a corner. Mr. Sturges is perched on the edge of his chair, glaring at her. Mr. Garvey is draped back in his, sipping his beer, eyeing both of them.

“Who doesn’t know what a mole rat is? Or raiders? Letting Preston fight alone, you could’ve gotten both of you killed!” He’s practically yelling now. “Are you good for anything besides housework? Look, new gal. Don't know what cave you're from. Don't care. But you need to shake off the cobwebs and smell the cordite, or we're all dead. Because the only thing keeping us alive is each other, and you sure as hell aren’t carrying your weight on the defense side.”

Her eyes finally flash up to his, panic meeting fury. They flash back down just as quickly, and she huddles silently in her chair.

“That’s enough, Sturges.” Mr. Garvey speaks soothingly. “Besides, Codsworth was with me…You’re a vault dweller, right? From 111. You don’t have to tell me anything about it, just yes or no.”

She doesn’t look up. Vault dweller? She didn’t exactly dwell in…in the vault…not that she remembers, anyway. But she did come out of it. Eventually she nods, almost imperceptibly.

“Alright, that’s good, that’s progress. I thought 111 was abandoned, everyone did, but apparently not if you’re here. I know messed up shit went down in those vaults. I’m sorry if you were in one of the bad ones. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.” He pauses, gives her a few moments to speak if she wants, but she doesn’t move. “Okay. So, clearly, whatever did happen there didn’t prepare you for life out here. You’re pretty lost, huh?”

Her eyes begin to burn. No. She can’t let that through. If she lets herself feel that pain, then she’s really going to break and make a fool of herself and—no. She stares at the beer bottle, traces every crack in the paper with her eyes, memorizing them, feeling the texture of the fragile label under her fingertips, grounding herself on the real sensations outside of her spiraling panic, while the back of her mind focuses on breathing slowly and deliberately. Once she’s back under control, she nods again.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll give you a rundown on…the Commonwealth, I guess. Stop me if you know it already.”

Mr. Garvey talks, and Mr. Sturges calms and chips in on some details, and she releases her brittle tension enough to begin sipping the beer. It is in fact the year 2287, she accepts. Two hundred and ten years since the bombs that fell, just days ago in her memory. Two hundred ten years of…cryostasis, I guess. As wild as that sounds. Frozen, alive, unconscious, as the world moved on without her.

Plenty of humans still alive. The species survived nuclear annihilation. Normal people, settlers, cities, but also violent gangs of raiders, which she’d now encountered twice, and “gunners”, and scarier, subtler groups. Mutated animals, some of which she’s already seen too: mole rats, deathclaws, mutated dogs, “yao guai” that just sounded like angrier bears—because of course bears had survived the apocalypse—and a too-wide variety of bloodthirsty insects.

New creations. Horrifically irradiated ghouls, some intelligent and still humanoid, many rotted into ferality. Super mutants, giant aggressive monsters with matching hounds. Synths, that may or may not be identifiably robotic, that may or may not be hiding, undiscovered, unidentifiable, among them.

By the end, her first beer and a second are finished and she’s feeling at peace with her fate. “Aiiiight Mr. Garvey. So what you’re telling me is this entire damn brave new world wants to kill me.”

He smiles slightly at her newfound, albeit slurred, ability to speak. “Pretty much. Also, if you don’t stop calling us mister, you get to fight the raiders for the next beer supply run.”

“Well fine then, Preston. If that’s what you want, that’s what you get. So if I need a weapon…you said there’s no more softball?”

“Yeah, no one knows that or baseball anymore. Moe over in Diamond City claims baseball was two teams beating each other to death with swatters, but hell if I know whether he’s right or not. Why’re you so interested? And how did you get a swatter?”

The peace of her buzz sours slightly. “That’s…yeah. Um. You said Mr.—uh, Sturges could modify it for me? Make it more…dangerous?”

Sturges throws her a sloppy salute. She notices he has a few more empty bottles lying around his feet than she does. “Sure can, just give me a chain and an hour and I’ll have her all gussied up for you.”

She feels almost as if she’s floating apart into two personalities. Her pre-bombs self, still sober, frets in the background. Not her softball bat. Not for a weapon. That bat was…but her current self, tipsy, in emotionless disbelief of the new world she’s been dropped into, is the one controlling her voice. As if from a distance, she watches herself answer. “Let’s do it, Sturges. I’ll get it to you tomorrow. Guess I’m a swatter girl.”

Sturges claps in delight. Mr. Gar—Preston—smiles, almost sadly, and nods.

——————————————————————————————

The next morning Preston and Sole set back out for Abernathy, the dog—Dogmeat, they called it, what an awful name for such a gorgeous thing—roaming far ahead and behind them in excitement at the adventure. Sole carries her bat—her swatter, now—propped over her shoulder. It now carries a heavy chain wrapped around the barrel and tacked in place, forever ruined for softball. Not that it matters anymore. The balance is totally different now, of course, but she can see the extra weight giving her swings some substantial extra power with practice. Sturges even managed to rig up a rifle sling to it so she can wear it across her back. She’s too strung out from the last night’s nightmares of green giants and hideous bears and robotic men to risk putting it out of her grip, though, even though Preston assures her that this quick trip is perfectly safe. An engorged bloatfly larger than her head does make a few passive darts at her, at which she attempts a few frantic swings and misses completely. A bright red blast from Preston’s musket explodes the thing in a rain of entrails, and she suddenly becomes nauseous and withdrawn for the rest of the hike.

Otherwise, they reach the farm without incident. Mr. Abernathy—Blake—takes the locket back tenderly, his voice becoming hoarse. “I can’t thank you enough for this. You risked your life to get Mary’s locket back to us…”

“Protecting families like you from scum like those raiders is what the Minutemen are here for,” says Preston. “We just need the support of settlements like yours to build our power again until we can protect the entire Commonwealth. Now that you know we’re good for our word, will you support us?”

“Yeah…yeah, absolutely. We don’t have much, but we have space for you to stay and a workshop for repairs. You’re welcome to our home, any time. I just…I need to go talk to Connie and Lucy now…thank you.”

——————————————————————————————

Now that her bat is back in her hands, she begins to remember the drive to train with it. For days after the return to Abernathy she intersperses her chores with training, learning the new feel of the modded swatter. Practice swings through the air, slowly, faster, faster. Makeshift t-ball stands from old fenceposts topped with rocks or bottles or clumps of dirt. Eventually dragging the men in to pitch objects at her (with varying degrees of accuracy). Her confidence in her old bat rekindles.

Every night, she dreams of robot men and of the body with the bloody pulp for a head.

*****************************************************************************

Dire’s Sole

Chronological:

Introducing: Sole

Abernathy Farm

One-offs:

Hancock Meets Sole

Dire’s Sole Art

A first sketch

Wham, Bam, Alakazam and Goodbye

Christmas Feels

MakeHuman v1

The Silver Shroud (with line art and shading progress)

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 13

"My voices tell me Be still Have faith Stay clear of the rat race It's alright I'm simple like the flowers And just love And worry not About tomorrow

Be simple like the flowers Come smoke my herb Make your heart like the ocean Your mind like the clear blue sky Come smoke my herb Make your heart like the ocean Your mind like the clear blue sky Come smoke my herb…"

Me'Shell Ndegéocello—"Come Smoke My Herb"

Califia awoke in her bed to find N'Jobu's arm wrapped tight around her waist. He was snoring softly and she guessed he got in late because he was normally an early riser. She could feel his morning wood pressed into her ass.

A normal Sunday morning would have him lifting her legs and nudging her neck to let him enter her, but he must've had a tiresome night. She still felt a bit upset that she wore her best nightie for him and he opted to stay out all hours. This seemed to become a pattern with him lately: promising to be home with them as a family by dinner, promising to tuck Erik into bed and regal their son with bedtime stories, promising to carve out some grown-up time so they could make love or talk, or play chess, or listen to music together. She ended up smoking a mild joint to lull herself to sleep after making sure Erik was still snoozing the night away. She found herself smoking a lot more late at night when N'Jobu was gone. He never said anything about the trace aroma of weed in their living room, and she made sure to keep it away from Erik.

Easing away from his hold, Califia left their bed and pulled on her house robe. She went to Erik's room and found him quietly playing with his dolls on his bed. He seemed surprised to see her so soon. Their son was accustomed to hearing Mommy and Baba "play" together in the morning and Erik had learned to wait for one of them to get him when it was time to get up. He knew how to go to the restroom on his own if he needed it, and he also knew that when Mommy and Baba had the door closed, he was not to disturb them unless it was an emergency. Sometimes N'Jobu left the door slightly ajar and Califia would fuss with him about Erik hearing or seeing too much. Their son had walked in on them before while they were in missionary under the covers, and N'Jobu kept pumping in and out of her slowly as Erik crawled up on their bed to tell them he had a bad dream. Califia could remember how normal N'Jobu sounded as he soothed their son while still stretching her folds under the covers.

"Lie there quietly and go to sleep, JaJa, no monsters will get you," N'Jobu said.

Erik curled up on his side completely unfazed by what they were doing. Baba on top of Mommy just seemed natural. They were always kissing in front of him, so seeing N'Jobu kissing Mommy like this in bed was just a regular occurrence. He just needed the safe sound of his father's voice and his mother's eyes on him for a comforting moment before he was knocked out again. N'Jobu kept on giving her pleasure until he came inside of her grunting softly after she felt herself fall apart all over his dick. She didn't even lower her voice that much when her cries of pleasure escaped her lips and flew into N'Jobu's ears. They just let themselves be while Erik slumbered. When they were finished, N'Jobu tossed the top cover of their blanket over Erik and went to sleep himself. The next day after that they implemented the door rule with Erik.

"Morning, Mommy," Erik said.

"Morning, Baby. You want waffles or pancakes today?"

"Waffles."

"Me too, good choice."

"Is Baba asleep?"

"Yes."

Erik looked disappointed.

"You like your haircut?"

"Yes."

"I like mine too. Do you want to help make breakfast, or do you want to play until it's ready?"

"Help you!" he said jumping down from his bed forgetting his dolls.

She led him to the bathroom where they both washed their hands.

Once they were downstairs in the kitchen, she had good music playing for them as she helped Erik mix the batter in a big bowl and then pour the mixture onto their waffle-maker. She let bacon cook in the oven and coffee percolate in the machine as she enjoyed time with Erik.

Their first batch of waffles came out quite exceptional, and as she plated the fluffy goodness, N'Jobu made his grand appearance. Black sweatpants and a t-shirt, he sat down at their kitchen table and watched her and Erik fix breakfast.

"Baba!"

"Hey, I see you making good food."

N'Jobu helped Erik get into his chair as Califia pulled the bacon from the oven. She draped the crispy slices onto a plate of paper towels to drain the grease.

N'Jobu cut up Erik's waffle for him while Califia put out the butter and syrup.

"I thought you'd sleep until noon," she said putting several slices of bacon on N'Jobu's plate.

"Too many delicious aromas down here," he said.

She sat down across from him and they all began eating, Erik doing his best to pour syrup for himself.

"Not too much, JaJa," N'Jobu said.

Califia tightened the robe around her nightie. She caught N'Jobu staring at her chest as she pulled the top shut.

"Sorry I got in too late to enjoy that," he said.

"Another time," she said stuffing bacon into her mouth. They both watched Erik rocking in his seat as he chewed on a big piece of bacon. He was always moving or bouncing around to some internal rhythm. He liked to hum when he ate sometimes too when he nibbled on his favorite foods.

"The time got away from me—"

"Forget it," she said reaching for another waffle.

"Can I have more bacon?" Erik said pushing his plate towards Califia.

She put two more pieces on his plate and poured him more orange juice.

"What's our agenda for today?" N'Jobu said cutting into his second waffle.

"Erik and I are going into the studio. I'm going to cover a class. Intermediate West African dance."

N'Jobu looked disappointed. She wanted him to. Her petty way of passive-aggressively letting him know that her and Erik's time was precious. She would leave him stewing alone at home while they were gone for a few hours. Sunday was supposed to be their full family day. No if ands or buts.

"I'll go with you," he said.

She stared at him for a moment, but then finished eating her breakfast.

"You don't want me to come with you?"

"You can go with us," she said.

"I messed up by getting back late. I just want to make up for it by being together today like we normally are, okay?"

"Okay," she said.

Erik was staring at the two of him. It was eerie how he could sense any discord between the two of them. Califia decided to lighten the mood and not cause Erik anxiety because she was still annoyed with N'Jobu for not being with them the previous evening.

"Will you cook sweet and sour chicken nuggets for Erik tonight? I want him to have something special since it's his first day of pre-school tomorrow," she said pinching Erik's cheek. Erik smiled.

"I suppose he wants mashed sweet potatoes too?"

Erik nodded his head.

"And pudding," Erik said chewing on his last piece of waffle.

"Alright, deal."

N'Jobu cleared all their dishes and cleaned up for them as Califia went to get herself and Erik dressed.

She was actually glad N'Jobu wanted to go with them. She did want him to miss their presence, but thinking on it more, she really just wanted him to be with them. Her being upset wouldn't change that he had to work late sometimes even when he promised to be there for them. She knew he would rather be home, but she was tired of looking at Erik's face when she had to tell him Baba was too busy to come home to him.

"Amarillo o Azul mijo?" she asked Erik holding up two t-shirts.

"Azul," he said pulling on his socks by himself.

Once he was dressed, she oiled his scalp with a light almond oil and made sure his sneakers were tied tight.

Downstairs N'Jobu had pulled on a soft sweat jacket and his favorite Adidas kicks.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded and walked Erik out to N'Jobu's car. The ride over was pleasant. She practiced a few Portuguese words with Erik, mainly colors, numbers, and phrases to greet people. He was a fast learner and his verbal skills were sharp. N'Jobu jumped in to have Erik say a few Wakandan words, and they both laughed when Erik did his best to match the clicks like his father.

The studio was crowded when they arrived. Califia changed into a black leotard and tied a thin purple and pink African print wrap skirt around her waist. She saw the studio manager stroll from the back office.

"Amanisha, is this class always this huge?" Califia asked. Usually, the beginner class was packed while the intermediate and advanced classes were smaller, less than thirty people on average. Scanning the space, there had to be over sixty people spread out which was unheard of for them on a Sunday. Women of various ages stretched and kept their eye on Califia.

"Two things. Word got out that you're teaching today, and Tico is joining the drumming for your session."

Tico.

The new young drummer everyone at the studio was thirsting over. Califia could see the regular drum troupe warming up in the corner, three exceptional talents that had been down with Califia since she created the Alpha House facility with Soliel. Glancing over in the back of the studio she could see N'Jobu standing in a corner watching Erik who was sitting on the dance floor waiting for Califia to begin. Her son already had his shoes and socks off.

Placing a water bottle on a stool in front of the long wall mirror, Califia nodded for the drummers to start the warm-up beats.

"I'm here, I'm here!"

Tico swept in with his djembe and set himself up quickly as the lead drummer. Califia could feel eyes from various women going all dreamy already. Maybe it was all the tats on his arms, or the cute style of his thick wavy hair, or the amazing physique he displayed in his tight T-shirt and linen drummer pants, but Califia found herself actually feeling the palpable surge of lust directed towards Tico from the room. He was a flirty dude, and Califia did find him cute, but he was cute in that superficial way that Califia remembered finding guys like him when she was still in college. Tico was a nice guy, but he was a player and a bit dishonest with women from what she gathered from the whisper network around the studio. He was also arrogant in a mean-spirited way when he was around other men.

"Let's start," Califia said ready to get down to business. The class spread out as much as they could and Califia started them off with basic warm-up moves with arms and legs moving simultaneously. Once she felt there was sufficient loosening of limbs, she began pelvic thrusts and mini leg kicks. The class was keeping up pretty well and she nodded toward Tico to turn it up a notch with the drums and he did, leading the ensemble in faster beats. Califia started harder combinations of moves and began the real teaching aspect where she had to keep repeating the steps. Erik jumped up by then and was doing his best to keep up, often jumping up and down right next to her. He turned around often to stop and watch the class while bouncing his knees. He liked doing the hand movements the most.

Halfway through, Califia divided the class into three groups and had each group start on one side of the room and dance their way to the other practicing the new combinations she taught them. She danced down the room with each section, encouraging, demonstrating, and cheering on the folks who finally figured out how to do the moves. She was having a lot of fun, and she thoroughly enjoyed watching Erik dancing down the room himself getting about half of the steps. N'Jobu stood in the back of the studio grinning and watching Erik follow her around. She found her heart melting with N'Jobu being there, and any irritation she had that morning was gone.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall by the door, she saw that time had gone by fast and they had reached the end of the class time.

"Okay, show and prove time!" Califia yelled.

Everyone made a huge semi-circle around the drummers. Califia loved this part of the class, a freestyle segment where anyone bold enough could jump into the middle of the circle and follow the drummers. Of course, with Tico leading the crew, she wasn't sure how many would be willing to put themselves out there—

A young woman of about nineteen jumped out and began demonstrating her moves. Tico went in and really began showing off for the class, making his drum talk, causing dancers to risk it all in the middle of the circle. Califia stood near the side of the drummers so she could encourage students and cheer on the people who were a bit shy about putting themselves out there. Erik stood next to her, one hand holding onto her left leg as he watched women take turns jumping in and out of the circle, some women facing off with one another. Califia nudged Erik into the middle and he stood there shyly for a moment, one hand going to his mouth as he looked up at her.

"Get it, JaJa!" she called out beginning to move inside the circle. He followed her and the class clapped for him. Soon, he had relaxed enough so that he began moving on his own. She took a step back and they all watched Erik get into his dance, adding steps she hadn't taught that day. Tico caught onto the child's rhythm and aimed his hand movements towards Erik as he worked his drum. Her son's eyes caught Tico's and he started to really show out.

"Look at him!" she called out to N'Jobu who sauntered over for a closer look at the circle his son now commanded. Califia jumped back into the circle with him and showed him basic moves he could follow and they danced together in sync, following the drum lead from Tico. Erik stopped and looked up at her and said, "Go, Mommy!"

She turned toward Tico and gave him a run for his money, easing in closer to the drummer as she kicked her legs and let her arms fly faster and faster. Tico tried controlling her movements by switching up the drum cadence with the other drummers, but Califia stuck with them eventually ending her solo by thrusting her hips towards the drummers letting them know she was through. The class clapped and Tico started the cooldown drumming and the class spread out once more as Califia led them through slower moves to bring down their heart rates. Erik moved next to her and Califia gave N'Jobu a look as if to say, "Look at this son of yours keeping up."

When the class ended, students applauded Califia and the drummers. She gave a humble bowing of her head and applauded the drummers herself too.

She drank heavily from her water bottle and Tico sauntered over to her with his drum. His swagger was heavily pronounced and Califia fought to not roll her eyes at him.

"Great class," he said moving in a little too close for her comfort. His drum was almost touching her belly.

"The drumming was on fire today," she said wiping sweat from her neck with a small hand towel that sat under her water bottle.

"It helps to have you teaching the class," he said giving her the once over with his eyes, "How about you and I going out for some coffee later? Erik can get chocolate milk if you want."

She stepped back from him and N'Jobu was already there by her side holding Erik's hand.

"Nice drumming," N'Jobu said positioning himself almost in front of Califia. His voice was firm and she saw a look pass over Tico's face. He had no idea who N'Jobu was.

"This is my son's father, N'Jobu. Babe, this is Tico."

"Nice to meet you," Tico said holding out his hand. N'Jobu shook it, his grasp strong and very telling in that moment. Tico backed away a bit giving Califia more space.

"I hear you are a popular fellow around here," N'Jobu said.

"I don't know about that."

"He is," Califia said, "in fact, this class is full because of him."

Tico shook his head.

"That's all you, Califia," Tico said.

"You should tend to your fans," N'Jobu said clasping Califia's fingers in his.

"Bye, Tico, and thanks for your hard work today," Califia said walking away with N'Jobu.

When they were a few feet away from Tico, N'Jobu picked up Erik and Califia whispered in N'Jobu's ear.

"So you must've caught that."

"He came at you pretty strong. His body language was so obvious. Is he always like that with you?"

"Not always, but he does take up space when he talks to women in here."

"Has anyone spoken to him about it?"

"No one has complained, but I think it's because they like him. I've mentioned to him that I don't like to be crowded and he minds that. I guess today he forgot."

"Today he was trying to mack. He didn't know you had a man?"

"I'm never really on the same class track as him."

"You want me to talk to him about personal space?"

"I think he got the big hint today."

"Where to now?"

"Ice cream," Erik said.

"You sure?" N'Jobu said looking at Erik.

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Chocolate chip and raspberry."

"Blueberry?" N'Jobu teased.

"No! Raspberry!"

"A raspberry like this?" N'Jobu said putting his lips against Erik's cheeks and giving him a wet raspberry for fun.

"No Baba!" Erik laughed rubbing his cheek.

Califia watched them and she felt happy. She was excited for Erik to start school, and she was excited about going back to work in a week. She was happy that she would be able to go with N'Jobu to see Erik off on his first day of pre-school. They already had his school clothes laid out for him and she just hoped that he had fun on his first day being away from her like that. Would he adjust quickly? Would he miss her? Could she bear being away from him?

Swinging her hand in N'Jobu's, Califia didn't want the day to end.

"I'll change real quick and we can go," she said.

Tico's drumming was flirty. That was the first clue N'Jobu picked up on when he watched the young man's hands strike his drum. He was also a show off with a false sense of confidence. N'Jobu saw how Tico tried to impress Califia with his skills, but she was so far above his level that he couldn't even see his inability to make an impression on her.

There was something else in his drumming too. Aggression. The machismo dripped from his fingers as it struck the drum skin during class.

N'Jobu enjoyed watching Erik dance with his mother and also participating in the circle, but when Tico approached Califia after the class, N'Jobu read her body language and he moved to be by her side at once.

As Califia changed clothes, N'Jobu walked back over to Tico who was talking to the other drummers. N'Jobu recognized the other men and nodded kindly towards them, but his eyes fixed back on Tico with a quickness.

"Watch yourself around my woman. Understand?" N'Jobu said.

The other drummers cut their eyes away from Tico.

"Yo man, I didn't know—"

"I don't care what you did or did not know. I'm telling you to watch yourself. If she ever tells me you have been inappropriate with her, you and I will have a talk. Won't be no words though."

Erik was staring at Tico and then he was leaning his head against N'Jobu's neck.

"Baba. Let's go get ice cream."

"As soon as Mommy comes out, we're leaving," N'Jobu said, his eyes still boring holes into Tico's face.

"Babe."

Califia was at the door waiting for them.

"What did you say to him?" Califia asked when they left.

"What he needed to hear, that's all."

N'Jobu caught Califia watching Erik as he slept in his bed. She had gone upstairs to check on him, and when she didn't return, N'Jobu made his way up to her and found her leaning her head against the door of Erik's room. Their son was fast asleep, his starfish nightlight glowing in the light socket near his bed. His school clothes were hanging on the back of his closet door: a small green striped polo shirt and new jeans. Casual but classy.

"Everything, okay?" he whispered touching Califia's shoulder.

She turned to look at him and her eyes were shiny as if she were about to cry. Her right hand touched his hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't think I would get this emotional about him starting school. Seems so silly. I remember when my mom got like this when my brothers started school and I thought she was so corny. But look at me. Staring at him and his first school clothes."

N'Jobu swept his arms around her waist and allowed her to lean back into him.

"It is a big deal. He is separating from us and going into the world on his own for the first time. Meeting new people. Learning new rules of conduct that may be different from what he's used to. We can't keep him with us forever. He's growing up."

"He is. It still feels like yesterday when he was inside of me. He's not going to be my baby for much longer."

"Nope. I'm excited for him."

"Me too. I just wish I could have him stay little for a few more years. My baby…"

She let out a heavy sigh and continued watching Erik sleep.

"He's the best part of you and me," she said.

"He is."

"I wish your family could see him."

"I wish they could too."

She turned to him, eyes still shiny, her lips pouty.

"It's been three years, almost four. Hasn't enough time passed? Are we not worthy to go to your homeland yet?"

He held onto her shoulders then let his fingers drop to stroke her elbows.

"You are both invaluable. But the time is still not right—"

She turned away from him and watched Erik once more.

"You say that every year that goes past. Erik is a Prince. Shouldn't he know his kingdom?"

"He will. One day. You know this—"

"Do I?"

Erik stirred in his sleep.

N'Jobu wrapped his arms around Califia's arms again and held her closer to his chest. They kept quiet and waited for their son to ease back into restful sleep again.

"You tell him stories about Wakanda. You talk about his grandmother the Queen Mother. His grandfather a great King. His cousin T'Challa being this smart and funny little person. You tell him all these wonderful things about your home and you don't take him there. How do think this will make him feel as he gets older? What will he think about his place in your world?"

Her words cut him. But the time wasn't right. Wakanda was experiencing social upheavals and T'Chaka was in the midst of squashing the unrest bubbling in certain political groups that still challenged his rule. Bringing his son and woman into that milieu at this time would be wrong. Stressful to them. Possibly dangerous when the Udaku family was under a political microscope and being watched by their enemies at home and abroad. He didn't want to chance that blowback coming into contact with Califia and Erik. She rightfully believed that Wakanda was just a regular country. If she knew the full truth—

She detached herself from his arms and moved into their bedroom. He followed and watched her strip out of her clothes. She sat on the edge of their bed and stared at him, butt-naked, the light from their bedside lamp making her skin look dewy and warm.

"Tell me the truth, N'Jobu. You won't take us to Wakanda because I'm not good enough for your family. You're slumming with me. I'm good enough to fuck and have secret babies, but I can't sit at the royal table. I'm no Zinzi or whatever Wakandan bitch is acceptable. Right?"

He sat next to her and touched her hand.

"Don't think that—"

She crawled onto his lap facing away from him, gyrating her hips and looking back at him. Her fingers touched her nipples hardening them. He felt his left leg shake.

"I'm only good for this, right?" she said, slowly bouncing on his sweatpants, causing the material to curve around the shape of his thickening cock. His erection sprung on him fast. He grabbed for her arms and held them.

"Girl…shit," he gasped.

He tried pulling his sweats down, but she swatted his hand and ground down on him harder.

"I'm worthy of this. Just this,…your faithful concubine," she whispered, her eyes closing, her thighs pressing down onto his. Her hands slid up to his knees and she widened her thighs and leaned forward isolating the movements of her ass cheeks one at a time and so very…slow. Her hips were winding and he felt like his lower half was dangerously close to evaporating into the ether.

"Can't take this home with you?" she said looking back at him again.

He felt his face get tight, his lips were already parted and releasing humble moans. He reached up and cupped her breasts almost holding his breath as she lifted and dropped herself on his dick.

He was powerless against her.

"…just that slut that you can play with when you want to…"

He could see the sticky wet pre-cum stain from his sweatpants glossing her ass.

"Califia, wait, lemme take my dick—"

She circled her grind on his lap and he felt the first spurts of cum soak the inside of his sweats.

"Shit…ohhhhh shit."

She slowed her motion and watched him look down at his crotch. It was soaked through.

She dropped to her knees and pulled his sweats down. Gripping his sensitive dick in her hand she licked it, up and down, slurping up all traces of semen. He cradled her face and kissed her, his tongue probing the hollows of her cheeks, the slickness of her gums, and the tang of his own essence in her mouth. He lifted her back onto his lap.

"You're worthy of the world, girl. Don't you know that?" he breathed into her ears as he snagged her lips again between his. Necks arching from left to right, lips smacking, bodies sweating, N'Jobu held her like a life preserver. When she lifted up and sat back down on his fresh erection, he was the one who felt unworthy.

Califia had sprinkled Nana's Florida water on Erik's head and neck before they left home. A measure of homespun protection for her little boy's first day of school.

She and N'Jobu held Erik's hands as they walked him into his new classroom. His teacher was a Black woman with thick twists and bright red lipstick and she had her room decorated in a colorful burst of numbers, letters, playful animals, and greetings from around the world in big bright bubble lettering. Each child had their own personal cubby hole to store personal belongings, and Califia showed Erik where he could put his new jean jacket. He had been a chatterbox on the way to the pre-school, but once they stepped into the classroom as a family, he had become quiet, as if he sensed that he was about to be left behind.

He was shy when his teacher greeted him, and he began to cry when they were trying to leave him. He grabbed Califia's leg and wouldn't let go.

"JaJa," N'Jobu said trying to pry him loose.

"I want to go home," Erik gasped, his wet eyes staring up at Califia.

"But school is going to be fun. Don't you want to have fun?" she asked. "Nooo!"

She didn't want to laugh at her baby, but his face looked like he was being tortured by the most horrific thing imaginable instead of being in a room full of fifteen 3-year-olds. Mrs. Graham the teacher knew the drill and began playing a happy sounding children's song that Erik knew by heart because Nana played it for him all the time at her house. His head turned in the direction of the music and like magic, his tears stopped and he was releasing his hold on her thigh.

"Who knows this song?" Mrs. Graham asked and Erik's arm shot up.

"Who can sing it with me?"

Children shyly gathered near her and in an instant, they heard their son singing his heart out. Mrs. Graham played another song that involved hand and body movement, and as much as they wanted to stay all day and watch Erik in school, N'Jobu and Califia took the opportunity to slip out of the classroom without Erik noticing.

For the rest of the school day, Califia kept bugging N'Jobu at home about how Erik could be doing. Was he crying over them? Was he getting along with his classmates? Was he being a good boy?

She was annoying N'Jobu who wanted to have Erik-out-of-the-house sex before school ended, but Califia was too fixated on their son. N'Jobu had to push her back on the couch and yank off her pants so he could stick his face between her legs.

When they returned to the school to pick Erik up, they were happy to see he had adjusted to being left behind. They found him talking to an adorable Korean boy who was holding a toy airplane. Erik was trying to explain to the boy how to make the propellers work.

"There's a button under here…lemme show you…no, not there, there…"

The two boys worked over the toy until the tiny propellers were working.

"See, I told you!" Erik shouted. The two boys ran around the room and when Erik saw them standing near the door he waved at them and kept playing with his new friend.

"Erik, your parents are waiting," Mrs. Graham coaxed gently.

Erik grabbed his friend's hand and dragged him over to them.

"Mommy, Baba, this is Water. We have the same birthday and he likes dinosaurs too. He has a T-Rex at home that is this big…"

Califia and N'Jobu listened to Erik prattle on. But Califia had to make sure she heard the Korean boy's name right.

"Your name is Water?" Califia asked.

The little boy looked confused by the question.

"Walter, his name is Walter," Mrs. Graham said smiling.

"Oh," Califia said realizing Erik had mispronounced his friend's name.

"Haggyo joh-ahani?" N'Jobu asked Walter.

Walter nodded surprised that N'Jobu was speaking Korean.

"Erik, your friend's name is Walter, not Water," Califia said.

"I like Water," Erik said dancing around N'Jobu.

"Say his name right," Califia said.

"Walter," Erik said.

"I like Water," Walter said smiling at Califia with a snaggle tooth grin.

"Erik, would you like to go get your jacket now?" Mrs. Graham said.

Erik nodded and ran over to his cubby hole and grabbed his jacket.

"Bye-bye, Water!" Erik said hugging Walter and then grabbing Califia's hand.

"See you tomorrow, Erik!" Walter said waving the toy airplane at Erik.

Califia and N'Jobu held Erik's hands and lifted him up together so his feet were lifted from the ground. He laughed heartily.

"I'm flying!" he yelled.

"You like your first day?" N'Jobu asked.

"Yes! I want to wear my Spiderman shirt tomorrow and my red sneakers. Walter is going to wear his and we are going to be twins, Mommy!"

Success.

Califia started her new teaching job and their home adjusted once more to the changes in schedules. Dante did a great job picking up Erik when his school day was over Monday through Wednesday, and Rolita watched him on Thursdays and Fridays now that she was staying home with her little one for a year. Her daughter Nevaeh had just turned two so Erik was comfortable being in their home two times a week. On those days N'Jobu picked him up after work and brought him home.

Things were going well for about a month until Mrs. Graham left Califia a message about needing to have a parent-teacher conference concerning Erik.

"What do you think it could be about?" Califia asked N'Jobu over dinner as she replayed the message for him on her cell.

"Erik seems to be in good spirits when he comes home," N'Jobu said.

"It's got to be the capoeira. I bet he's being too rough with the other children, probably showing off and going too hard. I told him he shouldn't do it at school. Maybe he hurt someone. You don't think they'd kick him out of school for it? He's only three."

"We'll find out tomorrow so relax. No sense stressing over the unknown," N'Jobu said.

"JaJa, did anything happen at school?" she asked.

Erik ate his peas and glazed carrots with a satisfied look on his face.

"I played with Water and Jeannie, but Jeannie is too mean, so we don't like her. She hits Water sometimes."

"Did you hit Jeannie or anything?"

"No."

"Let him eat," N'Jobu said finishing up his plate.

"He's eating, I'm just trying to figure this out in case it's bad."

"He's three, Califia."

"Parents are litigious over the simplest things nowadays."

N'Jobu shook his head.

"Well, if he did put hands on anyone, he was probably using ulwa—" Califia said.

"What?"

"Yeah, I said it. If he went buck wild in class, I betcha it was your shit that got him in trouble—"

"Ooh, Mommy used a bad word, Baba."

N'Jobu gave Califia a look.

"He may have cursed in class, but that comes from you," N'Jobu said sipping on his glass of water.

"I watch what I say around him."

"Just like now?" N'Jobu joked.

"Mommy should get a time out for using a bad word," Erik said.

"Mommy is sorry for using a bad word, Erik. Daddy will give me time out later," she said winking at N'Jobu.

N'Jobu watched Erik play quietly in the designated play area in his classroom. He shifted his weight in the adult sized chairs that Mrs. Graham had in the back of the room near her classroom desk. He could see Califia's leg nervously shaking, her left toe-tapping unconsciously as she waited for Mrs. Graham to inform them of the concern that brought them there after Erik's regular school time. N'Jobu and Califia had to take time off from their jobs to be there.

"Thank you for making time from your busy schedules. I asked for you to come in because I would like to talk to about Erik. I don't think he should be in my classroom anymore."

N'Jobu could hear a soft gasp escape Califia's lips and her eyes sought out his. There was so much worry in her face.

"What exactly is the problem, Mrs. Graham?" N'Jobu asked while reaching over to hold Califia's hand to calm her. They all could hear Erik playing with the toys on the other side of the room completely oblivious to the adults.

"Oh, wait, Mrs. Stevens, I didn't mean to cause you any alarm. The reason why I'm saying this is because the curriculum I teach is not what Erik needs—"

"Are you saying he has trouble learning? Like maybe he needs a special day class—"

"Not exactly what you may be thinking. He does have special needs and that's why he can't thrive in my class at this pace. You see, Erik's intellectual abilities are above the pre-school level. He outpaces his classmates and is often bored during the lessons. I would like to have him tested because I believe he needs to be at a different grade level. I'm thinking maybe first or second grade."

Califia's face broke into a relieved grin.

"Oh, Mrs. Graham. I was so worried. I thought Erik had done something and you were calling us in to suspend him."

Califia squeezed N'Jobu's hand.

"May I ask why you would jump to that conclusion?" Mrs. Graham said folding her hands on her lap.

"My experience as a teacher has me on edge sometimes when it comes to Black children in the classroom. I'm just being blunt here. I know my son has a lot of energy, and you see…he knows some martial arts and I thought he may have injured another child or something. These things can get blown out of proportion so easily."

"I see. I do understand why you may have gone there in that thinking. Whatever it is that you two are doing at home with him has him at an advanced level, and I can't afford to stifle his young mind when I see the brilliance in him so early. There are some drawbacks though."

"What are they?" N'Jobu finally interjected. He wasn't surprised that Erik was far above his peers, he just didn't think it would manifest so early.

"Skipping ahead can sound impressive, but sometimes students don't adjust because they are not with their same age peer group. They can feel out of place being often the youngest person in the class. They also encounter more emotionally and socially mature classmates that can make it difficult to fit in. Being book smart doesn't always translate into successful interactions on the playground or outside of school. Erik is only three and he may find it hard to blend in with six and seven-year-olds. I need you to be aware of that."

"Could he stay in your class and just do advanced work? He could stay with his age group and friends, but do upper-level lessons?" N'Jobu asked.

"In all honesty Mr. Stevens, I would find it difficult to give Erik the special attention he needs one on one and then also teaching my other pre-schoolers. I have an aide that helps me, but I'm afraid Erik might feel stifled or singled out."

"I see," N'Jobu said.

"How soon would you want him to get tested?" Califia asked.

Mrs. Graham pulled out a folder.

"Once I get your permission, I can have a specialist in next week to test him. If he's at the level that I suspect, it would be best to move him as soon as possible so he can adjust quickly while the school term is still early."

"What if we decide we want him to stay in your class? He has made so many friends. He and Walter are so tight," Califia said.

"If that was your choice, then I would do my best to accommodate Erik. But that child is gifted. He needs the space to shine."

"Set up the tests. As soon as you know what level he should be placed in we'll do it—"

"I think we should talk about this more," Califia said releasing her hand from his.

"Mrs. Graham said he needs to be in another class—"

"Let's see where the tests place him, and then you can re-visit moving him or not. I will be creating some supplemental teaching materials for him and there's a section on our school website you can check out that details the process on skipping grades."

"Thank you, Mrs. Graham," N'Jobu said standing up and holding out his hand for her to shake.

Califia was slow to stand up, and the expression on her face was one of annoyance. When she did shake Mrs. Graham's hand, N'Jobu already had Erik with him.

He drove them to McDonald's an ordered Erik a happy meal while he and Califia ate fries sitting inside a wide booth.

"Do you think he can hang with second graders?" she asked.

"He's already reading words and writing things. He likes pulling things apart and putting them back together on his own. He hangs with his older cousins just fine. He'll be alright."

"Ugh, he likes Walter so much."

"Walter is my best friend," Erik said chewing on his cheeseburger.

"He can still have play dates with Walter. Their friendship can continue if he wants it."

Erik's eyes watched them.

"Erik, your teacher thinks you are a very good student. She wants to put you in another class," N'Jobu said. "N'Jobu, c'mon, don't tell him like this."

"What do you think about that, JaJa? You are very smart and your teacher wants to put you in a bigger kids class."

Erik stopped fiddling his fingers inside his small bag of French fries.

"Can Water come with me?"

"No, Baby. Water will have to stay with Mrs. Graham."

A worried look came over his face.

"Can I still play with him?"

"On the weekends and maybe after school sometimes," N'Jobu said.

"I don't have to see Jeannie anymore?"

"No, she won't be in the same class as you," Califia said.

"Good. She's a pain."

N'Jobu and Califia laughed.

"Will you be sad about leaving your class? It's okay to be sad," Califia said.

N'Jobu found her eggshells approach to telling their son he was changing classes ridiculous.

"No. I won't be sad. You promise Water can still be my friend?"

"Yeah," Califia said, her lips curling into a smile.

"Okay. I'll go with the bigger kids. I'm not scared."

"Wait, do you feel scared?" Califia asked.

"No, but you look scared, Mommy."

N'Jobu tilted his head at Califia.

"And there you have it. You are projecting onto him and he's cool with leaving."

"I wasn't projecting."

"Yes, you were."

"What's projecting?" Erik asked.

"When you assume someone feels the same way you do—"

"Baba says you should never assume," Erik said.

"And he is right," Califia said squeezing N'Jobu's hand.

She stared at him.

"You were right. I was worried for nothing."

"He'll be fine. He's an Udaku."

"And a Stevens," she said.

N'Jobu leaned over and kissed her lips.

"Why are you always kissing?!" Erik said with an exasperated sigh.

"Eat your burger and mind your business, boy," N'Jobu said kissing Califia again.

"So we'll let him do this?" Califia asked.

"I can do anything, Mommy," Erik said waving a French fry at her like it was a wand.

Chapter 14 HERE.

[missblissy]

Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You, Young!reader Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

(( Here is chapter 6!! Enjoy the fluff and love while it lasts!! Nothing but pure angst is instore for the next few chapters!!))

Description:

He leaned down and picked up the dead rabbit and let out a high pitched whistle, “That’s the goal, ain’t it?” It was, but it felt wrong. Was this what it would feel like to kill? To take a life? What would it feel like to take a human life? Arthur’s spotted horse had trotted up to him and he tied the rabbit down to his saddle, “Come on,” He ushered you along.

But you stood there, looking at the pool of blood left behind, the way the light reflected off it and the dirt soaked it up, “Have you ever killed someone, Arthur?”

_________________________________________

“Arthur!”

“Yep?”

“Get those bags in that wagon for me, will ya?”

You looked up at Dutch as he pointed and barked order for Arthur to follow. Man, you’d hating being him. You had just got off the train, and made it to Dodge. According to the letter that Hosea sent back, he’d be about a mile out of town at a place called Fortunes Hollow. Which so happened to be a small shallow cave beside a lake. You were excited to finally call a new place home, and to meet this Hosea and Susan that Dutch talked so much about.

While Arthur was busy with the hard labor, Dutch looked down to you and smiled slightly, “We’ve got a few minutes to spare, why don’t we check out some stores, my little lady?”

You giggled and nodded your head, “Okay!” You rolled up the sleeves on your shirt and wiggled your hands at your belt, it was still a little odd to be in boy clothes all the time. But you far more enjoyed it than being in a dress, especially in the hot dusty town in the middle of a desert.

Dutch offered you his hand and you kindly took it, following him off the station steps and into the quiet cattle ranch town. The place smelled old and musty, and the waves of dust that the wind blew up didn’t help.

The town wasn’t much to look at, it had two main roads, then a bunch of cattle barns scattered around. While walking down the main drag, you saw a little shop window that read ‘Book Store.’ You tugged quickly on Dutch’s hand with joy bubbling up, “Look!” There was something you learned about Dutch over these last few weeks, you both shared a deep love of reading, “We can buy some books if we want!”

He seemed just as impressed. Not to often did you see a store that just sold books. He rubbed his chin then pulled at the corner of his mustache, “Want to take a look inside?” There had to be something good in there.

“Yes! Please!”

Dutch laughed at your giddiness and took you inside. The doorbell jingled and you’re eyes adjusted to the darkness within. It smelled so much nicer in there. The old smell of books greeted your nose and you took in a deep breath. Wow…

The shop wasn’t too big and it was cute enough to convince you that you just had to stay here a moment longer. While you went on over to the walls filled with books, eyeing them to see if any of them caught your interests, Dutch walked himself to the front counter. You listened to him speak to the woman standing there.

She was tall, about as tall as Dutch, and very busty. You glanced at the woman and she flashed you a simple smile. She was very pretty. Her deep dark red hair curled wildly like a fire in every direction. She didn’t even try to tame it. Her skin was pale and covered in a hundred million freckles. The woman most certainly caught Dutch’s interest.

You learned quickly that Dutch was a woman’s kind of man. Smooth, tall, handsome, and well worded. He loved women, and loved talking to them. You’ve already experienced many of his lovers over the course of this trip. His tactic was very simple. He approached them with a smile, he’d say something nice, he’d ask them some question then so sweetly ask for their name.

Just as expected, Dutch leaned on the front counter, casually resting on his arm, “Hello,” He smiled.

“Hello sir,” The woman smiled back. She was definitely interested. Gross. You looked away and walk further into the little shabby store, fingering through books that caught your interest. The woman spoke again, “How can I help you?”

Dutch let out a little low chuckle, “I was hoping I could help you?” Hook. Line. And?

She giggled behind her hand, “Oh my,” Sinker. She flashed her pretty little blue eyes at him, “What would I need help with?”

God, you wanted to barf. You just couldn’t understand what it was like to flirt with someone, or why adults did it so much.

“You tell me, miss,” Dutch leaned closer, “I can do anything you like.” Gross!!

This woman was smart, a lot smarter than Dutch’s usual choice of women. She chuckled quick then became rather serious, “You can buy something. I’d love to have your money in my hands.” You could tell she took Dutch by surprise.

He laughed, low and thunderous, he laughed for what felt like hours. He wiped away a tear and shook his head, “You’ve got a one-track mind, miss,” He then turned around, looking for you within the store, “(Y/N),” he called, “Pick out something nice,”

You already had a book in your hands that you wanted. It was another fairy tale, this one about a warrior queen who ruled over an island of women. It was called Jungle Hunt. You skipped over, happy to be able to leave with something. You were too short to even reach the top of the counter… You were already pretty short for a 12-year-old anyway. You slapped the little green book up on the counter, standing on your tippy toes watching the woman put your book in a bag and take the money from Dutch’s hand.

“Your daughter has a good taste in books,” She said. You wanted to correct her, tell her you were just an orphan girl, but Dutch laughed.

“Thank you, she gets it from me,” Goddammit, “What’s your name, miss?”

She slid the bag back towards you, and stubbornly and begrudgingly you took it. As you huffed and puffed, disliking being a pawn in the battle of the sexes, you heard the woman laugh and say, “My name is Annabelle, it’s so nice to meet you.”

_____________________________________________________________________

When you first got to Fortune’s Hollow, it truly was hollow. There was a series of rock pillars and indents in the cliff side. You found a little shallow cave back there, with a wide and flashy pond beside it. When Dutch pulled the wagon up, he called out for the two people you’ve heard so much about over the past few weeks.

Arthur was right. You immediately guessed who was who. Just as Arthur said, Hosea was a snooty rat looking man with hair so blonde, it almost looked white. He dressed as though he was some kind of state’s men. Classy, while still country. The other one must have been Susan. Again, Arthur was absolutely right, she looked like a raven that would sit perched on your window, staring at you with judgment. She was pretty though, plump and tall with her hair as black as night, twisted up and behind her head. While everyone was happy to see each other, sharing stories, you found yourself feeling alone and uncomfortable. You started to greatly miss your family. Sure, Hosea and

Susan was nice, they greeted you with smiles and shook your hand. They had a tent already pitched and waiting for you, they were so kind to a little stranger like you. The even invited you to sit down with them and eat. Sitting there by the fire on some logs made you feel small and alone. You couldn’t join there laughter or glee. You sat there quietly, trying your best to be invisible.

As the days went by, you opened up to them more. Arthur was the only one you could see your self confiding in. He woke you up every morning, throwing some sort of clothes at you while you laid on the little cot bed you had. Your tent wasn’t much, but it gave you some sense of privacy. He’d say something like, “Rise and shine, ass face, time to work,” or, “Get the hell up, monkey breath. We got chores to do.”

And chores you did. You’ve never had to do chores before, besides the regular days your mother would ask you to clean your room. But to your surprise, no one chastised you or was frustrated at your lack of knowledge on how to do some of the most basic things.

Your days started off with Susan. She’d teach you how to cook food. Mostly stews, and how to grill things over an open flame. She was a bit bossy but mostly harmless.

“How do you know to flip it over?” You were watching her cook some chunks of rabbit meat. She took a knife out, stabbed the juicy little steak and then flipped it over on the grill.

She hummed, “You don’t. Not really,” She flipped two other bits of meat, “It depends on what kind of meat it is, depends on how hot the fire burns,” Was cooking really that simple? “Mostly you just want to cook the blood away. Make the meat crispy on the outside, tender and pink on the inside,” “How do you know what it looks like on the inside?” You asked, thankful she didn’t get irritated by all the questions.

Susan glanced at you and flashed a little, kind smile, “You cut it open,” She took her knife and sliced the meat in half. Just like she said, it was slightly pink inside, just enough to see it's contrasted against the grey and brown of the cooked meat. You started to cook on your own after that, and cooking for others. You were actually very good for a kid.

Another one of your chores was doing laundry. You didn’t mind, Susan helped you with that too. Normally by the time it was noon, Hosea and Dutch would return from whatever escapades they were on. They’d always bring back some kind of money or valuables and chuck them away into a chest in Dutch’s tent. This was also around when you did the next chore of your day.

Hosea would take you and Arthur to go hunting. Not that you could really do that much, but Hosea was by far the most eager of all of them to teach you. He was a natural born teacher, he was kind and understanding, and encouraged you to face your fears. That first fear was holding a gun.

He put his hands on your shoulders, and squared them out, “Remember to breathe, okay?” You nodded your head as you lifted the gun, “And keep both your eyes open,” It was scary, to say the least. You held the weapon in your hand that took your parent's life. But Dutch had a point, he said you were old enough to learn how to defend yourself.

He reminded you that though this gang was your home, they wouldn’t always be there to save you. Sometimes you just had to save yourself.

Arthur was standing a few yards away, leaning on a large dusty tan rock with his arms crossed. You looked to him for encouragement, and he gave you that half little smile he always did and nodded his head.

“Okay,” You whispered to yourself, “You can do this,” The scary part was firing the god damn gun. Hosea stood behind you, hands firm on your shoulders as you pulled the trigger and felt the gun jump back at you. There were some bottles down the ways on a rock, you didn’t hit a single one. The second the smoke cleared you looked back at Hosea, “I didn’t hit anything,” You sounded ready to give up.

“That’s fine,” He smiled at you and ruffled up your hair with his hand, “Try again. You’ve got this, (Y/N). Don’t worry about being good, just learn your aim and you can improve from there.”

You shot the gun three more times before you finally blew a bottle to smithereens, “I did it! Oh my god! I hit it!! Hosea! I hit it!!” You started smiling wide and beaming up at the older man.

Just as elated as you, Hosea returned your smile with a cheeky grin all his own, “There you go, girl! I told you that you’d get it,” He ruffled your hair again, something that became a habit of his, and you both stared at Arthur, expecting him to chime in.

The young cowboy smirked and you felt yourself swell with pride, “One day maybe you’ll be as good as Dutch,”

“Maybe- I wish!”

Eventually, you started actually hunting with Hosea and Arthur. Took about several weeks, but you finally made your first kill. It was a rabbit you spotted and shot dead on sight. You definitely were getting better with your aim, just like Hosea said you would. You stood over top the dead rabbit, feeling sick to your stomach. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear Arthur approach.

“What’s wrong?”

You felt like crying. You killed that animal. It didn’t feel good. Even if you needed it for food, “I killed it…” Your voice was low and laced with a depression Arthur recognized.

He leaned down and picked up the dead rabbit and let out a high pitched whistle, “That’s the goal, ain’t it?” It was, but it felt wrong. Was this what it would feel like to kill? To take a life? What would it feel like to take a human life? Arthur’s spotted horse had trotted up to him and he tied the rabbit down to his saddle, “Come on,” He ushered you along.

But you stood there, looking at the pool of blood left behind, the way the light reflected off it and the dirt soaked it up, “Have you ever killed someone, Arthur?”

The question took him by surprise. He stopped halfway between getting on his saddle, put his foot back down to the ground and walked over to you. He put his large hand on your head and eased you to look up at him, “Sure” he didn’t hide the truth from you, “We have,” he spoke for the rest of the gang.

Your nose crinkled, your eyes were heavy, “Does it hurt? Killing someone?” You enjoyed the warmth of his hand on your head. You were a little sad when he took it away and stepped back.

“It did. At first,” He sounded like he was about to tell a story, but he went back to his horse. He saddled up then held out a hand for you. You didn’t know how to ride a horse yet, nor did you have one. When you sat tight and snug behind him, Arthur cleared his throat and kept talking, “In this world, (Y/N), you gotta be strong. You gotta be quick.

We live in times where it’s either you… or the guy trying to kill you. I’d rather it be him than you.”

“But he’s a person too.”

“He is,” Arthur spurred his horse to a quick trot, “He’s got a family, he’s got friends. He’s got feelings,” Arthur paused just long enough for you to but in.

“I don’t want to kill someone though… My mother always told me to be kind. She wanted to save people, heal them, make them better-” It was now Arthur’s turn to cut you off, but he did so in a way that wasn’t rude or belittling, “You have to close your heart to them, and to anyone that ain’t friendly. Sure… You can do all those things, but do it to your own, your people, your kind.”

“My kind?” You were confused and a little tired. Killing sure takes a lot of energy out of you. You snug close to Arthur, leaning on his back and resting your cheek between his shoulders. He didn’t seem at all to mind you, it was a regular thing for you to be clinging on the older teen, he’d gotten use to it at this point.

“Yeah, us. Dutch- Hosea and Susan. Maybe that-” Arthur paused to clear his throat and his voice had an irritated tone to it, “Maybe that Annabelle soon too- Anyways. I’m talking about the gang. We look out for our own, and others like us.”

“You mean like….? Other outlaws?”

Arthur internally flinched at the word. He hated being called an outlaw. He didn’t feel like one. But you were right to some extent, “Yeah, simple folk, mostly. I trust an outlaw more than I trust a rich man.”

You were getting very tired there, cuddling up to Arthur’s warm back. The sun was setting, and it got so damn cold in the desert at night, “My mother was a rich man’s daughter. My grandpa was a doctor and my mother wanted to be one too. He ran a hospital in New York City. My whole family was rich. My mother told me how much she hated that part of her family. But she still took their money. So… I was a rich person once. You trust me, don’t you?”

The low chuckle vibrated from his chest and to his back, you could feel him speak, “Yes. I do. But you ain’t rich no more.” No. No you were not.

“Would you still trust me if I was?”

Another little chuckle. What was so funny? Who honestly knew. Arthur steered his stallion across the land, he spotted Hosea up the ways, “Always.” His words made you smile, they made you feel a lot better too. Arthur had that way to him, and you were thankful he was so kind to you, and that he actually cared about you, just like the rest of them.