#downrange

[darklylucid]

Two horror movie recommendations for the new year!

The 2017 survival horror film 'Downrange' - It's gory, it's tense, and it pulls no punches.

The 1988 Dutch slasher film 'Amsterdamned' - see what happens when a corpse hung from a low bridge encounters an open-top tour boat...

[starlightmeadowbloom]

Confession that I need to get it out of my chest…

I’ve got a stupid habit of letting curiosity kill me like a cat, want to know why?

Well, let’s just say that when I go to YouTube the pictures automatically played by itself and recapping me of those horror movies. I usually go to the Wikipedia to write the title of the horror movie and I do make sure that I cover the screen when the gory stuff comes. But now today it’s nearly got me sick after researching of a horror movie called DownRange from 2017 and I really hope that it’s the last time I ever let stuff like that took the better of me.

But quick question:

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

SUMMARY: Stranded at the side of the road after a tire blowout, a group of friends become targets for an enigmatic sniper.

[todays-xkcd]

The Range Mischief Officer has modified the trajectory to add a single random spin somewhere in the flight, but won't tell us where.

Range Safety [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[A rocket is on a launchpad with a tower next to it, with a few birds flying around them. Voices are coming from a nearby building. The scene is shown in black silhouette on a white background.] Voice: There are reports of thunderstorms in the downrange area.

Voice: The Range Safety Officer has ordered a launch hold.

Voice: But the Range Danger Officer wants to launch the rocket toward the biggest thunderstorm. Voice 2: Okay, why do we even have that position?

[thefirstknife]

The weekly lore book is so funny with Guardian reports. Love these two justifying why they didn't kill the enemy:

Instead of opening fire, it juked backwards and ran. I've never seen a Vex run before, and honestly, I was so surprised, I missed my shot.

+

Saw a big ol' Vex Minotaur hanging out in the shallows. It was far downrange, but it looked like it was leaking data or something from its neck. I fired before my Box Breathing kicked in, so it wasn't a kill shot.

This one got me. I sure do know what you mean:

The Minotaurs were being really defensive, staggering their shields to cover each other. If you've ever gone up against a team of Titans in Crucible, it was like that.

This one is so relatable:

The necklace Vex were wiped out and the others ripped the radiolaria cores from the bodies and took them back through the portal—or they would have, if I hadn't Thundercrashed the whole group.

Thundercrash!!!!

But outside of the funny bits, I am really looking hard at the little details. The changes in individual Vex, for example:

The thing must've caught a glint off my optics because it looked right at me.

+

It looked back at me, then it popped its own juice box and dumped itself into the radiolaria.

+

Anyway, when I moved in to make sure they were dead, I saw little model buildings in the dirt. I'm telling you, they'd been building sandcastles.

+

Right as I was about to draw, the Hobgoblin waved its hand at me. I figured it was signaling an ambush and I looked around, but it didn't have any backup. It waved again, and I gave it a little wave back—I didn't see the harm. Well, it got real excited at that and waved with both arms.

+

It was creeping through the branches and making a little noise—almost like it was laughing, if that makes sense?

There's also a strange focus on singling out Precursors and how othey don't appear to have the collars:

One of those sleek Precursor models was leading a group of normal Vex Goblins. The Goblins all had glowing collars, but the Precursor didn't.

+

Saw them clearly before I engaged: some Precursors mixed in with Nessus Vex. Nessus ones had the glowing mantles from the reports, but the Precursors didn't.

What does it all mean.

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 4 ⬅ch. 3

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. forced proximity. blood, war, and death. wc 5.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this one was fun to write!! it's a bit longer than previous chapters too. thank you for all the messages and ideas for this fic, i hope i do it justice! and as usual, feedback is appreciated <3

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

...al mazrah…

you sat trembling on board the razor-1, your bag tucked between your legs, wedged nervously between two insanely muscled marines that made you feel minuscule in comparison. ghost stood as the aircraft began to land and soap gave you a reassuring look from across the terminal. 

you undid your seatbelt and you felt your fingertips vibrate as they clung to your tactical vest, all of your adrenaline was starting to make you feel sick. 

“this is capture or kill,” soap had said to you. “but we need him alive.”

“that’s where i come in,” you mumbled under your breath. 

soap nudged you on the shoulder. “don’t worry so much. you’ll hang back while we infiltrate the base hassan is camped up in. then you can swoop in to save the day when i have him bleeding out on the floor.” you rolled your eyes at soap’s confidence. “easy.”

“right,” you mocked, trying to hide the terror that was slowly seeping into your bones. 

ghost began rambling off orders, the aircraft shaking as it made contact with the ground, and you tried to instill it in your brain that you had nothing to be so fearful about; this was just another mission for the guys. they did things like this all the time for the sake of their country. but the fact that you had never been on the frontline before kept niggling your mind. you began to wonder if you were really made for this kind of shit.

it wasn’t that long ago you had wanted nothing more than to join the military to help wounded soldiers when you realized you had nothing left for you back home. after your friend died in combat, an injury that could have been mended if they had enough medics in their arsenal, you decided to put on a brave face and save soldiers just like him. regardless of what you thought about war, you wanted to be a medic, meaning neutral ground. you were there to mend the fallen, it didn’t matter to you what side they were on.

and as much as you didn’t like to brag or be filled with a sense of pride–it always made you uncomfortable–it was just a technicality to say you were at the top of your class. the best of the best , as price had said. 

“keep up,” ghost grunted to you as he turned to exit the craft, walking down the ramp. you shook yourself out of your head-pounding thoughts and quickly followed the group of men out of the ship, leaving team alpha behind. 

you stumbled onto the ground, the strays of your hair that stuck out from under your beanie beneath your helmet fluttered in the wind as the ship took off to take team alpha downrange. 

“razor-1, all bravo deployed. moving to secondary hlz,” the pilot said over the comms for everyone to hear. 

your eyes locked onto soap’s, his gun at the ready. he nodded his head, urging you to follow him. you both made your descent with the rest of bravo, willing your hands not to shake as you held your gun up, your night vision goggles set over your eyes.

“all stations- razor-1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit!” the pilot’s anxious voice echoed in your ears. “incoming- flares! flares!”

you watched as the horizon lit up in front of you, hustling to stay beside soap. 

“shit that was close!” another voice spoke. 

and then, an urgent “second missile!”

you tensed, scurrying after the group of men who crept down the small incline. things were picking up fast. you had barely been out of the ship–it was certainly less than two minutes–and explosions and gunfire were already filling the air.

“oh fuck…!”

“razor-1 going down! we’re going down!”

your teeth clenched as you switched into a run, all your gear slowing you down and making you huff your breaths. 

“stay close!” you heard soap yell in your ear. 

you nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you. the smell of ash began to fill your senses.

“hold up,” ghost commanded. the team stopped, a small explosion erupting at the bottom of the hill where building 1 was located.

“alpha, what’s your status?”

coughing and wheezing breaths harrowingly echoed on the comms. 

“alpha, how copy…?” ghost said with a bit more urgency. 

“bravo- alpha is immoblie. multiple critical!” a brief pause sounded between the man’s reply. “oh, shit! we’re taking effective fire!”

you clenched your gun. what if you, or soap, or ghost had been assigned alpha? you sucked in a breath of air and tried to calm your racing heart. 

“alpha, we’re moving to building 1. hold tight.” ghost’s voice was so smooth as he spoke like this type of shit was a regular occurrence to him. the same candace as someone who was greeting a friend in a coffee shop. his nonchalance sent shivers up your spine. 

“ghost, we need to secure that crash site now,” soap spoke.

“first, we clear for hassan, that takes the heat off alpha. then we secure the crash site. clear?”

“roger that.”

“let’s move.”

ghost, hustling towards the rocky house, swept into your line of sight. soap turned his head and when he saw you were close behind him, he took off after ghost. 

“force up to the house.” ghost whispered. 

you stumbled over the uneven terrain, the weight of all your gear and the obstruction the goggles caused was making it difficult to see. 

the sound of shuffling pants, boots crunching the pebbled earth, and the slight hum of machinery was the only sound in your ears when no one was speaking. you felt your chest tighten with nerves. 

suddenly, with your body realizing the height of the situation, you began to steady. you were good under pressure. exceptionally good. this is why you were here , you told yourself. you could do this .

you heard an enemy soldier shouting something in the distance that you couldn’t quite make out–he must have been speaking arabic.

the group rounded up outside the house and ghost scaled the edge of the building. a man handed him a sledgehammer. “breacher up,” he said faintly before he slammed it into the wooden door. you felt a chill catch along the hairs of your arms as he broke open the door in one swift motion, you could see his muscles taut even through his thick layers of clothes. 

“sweep through,” ghost called. soap was at the doorway and began shooting.

you tried to pay attention to your surroundings as you waited for soap and ghost to clear the way. the blazing fire in the distance sent eerie shadows along the buildings and barren trees. 

“first deck clear! negative on hassan,” a bravo said. 

another replied, “copy that, second deck’s clear!”

“rog,” ghost grunted. 

you slipped into the building behind the men, watching as they scanned their surroundings and made themselves safe behind barriers. 

“contact! building 2!” a voice shouted. 

you stumbled back against a storage cabinet as gunfire ricocheted off the walls. 

“they know we’re here!” ghost shouted. in a startling motion, he turned to you, spying you immediately as you shifted your weight. “stay down!”

you nodded and huddled behind a workbench. the men began shooting rounds at the men in building 2. the sharp metallic clank of a bullet hitting a metal desk off to your right made you jump, the shell clinking on the floor like a fallen coin. you felt your eyes widen slightly. 

“all bravo, move on building 2!” ghost stated, his voice a welcoming sound through your headset. you tried to focus on his voice instead of the shouts of men and blasting echoes of weapons.

ghost and someone from alpha spoke to each other as the men started their way towards building 2. soap appeared beside you and helped you up. “you alright, lass?”

you nodded, “m’good.” you brushed yourself off and followed soap as he led you out of the building and towards another that was roughly 100 feet before your squad. you could see ghost already approaching the second building, his feet shuffling as he stayed out of the line of sight of the open doorway. 

shouts in arabic made you stagger as you walked. gunshots in the distance followed by the occasional explosion filled the otherwise gorgeous night. you slid your goggles up and glanced at the starry sky. if it wasn’t for the bloodshed unfolding before you, you could easily see yourself laying out on one of these hills, the cool night air ruffling your hair as you watched the stars–they were so bright without all the light pollution.

soap slid up to one of the open doors and motioned for you to huddle beside another fellow sergeant. soap was bundled in his uniform, his sleeves rolled up, and his night vision goggles on–same as you. you wondered if you looked as intimidating as he did. 

“prep for breach,” ghost said. 

“7-1 moving interior,” soap responded. 

he quickly shot down three enemy soldiers before disappearing inside the building. you followed in pursuit, your heart hurting as you saw slouched bodies pool with blood, even if you knew they were the enemy. you hurried after soap and caught a glimpse of ghost using his knife to slice into a man with barely any effort. blood began to coat his gloves. 

you crept behind soap as he slowly moved up the stairs to the second floor. gunshots repeatedly fired in front of the two of you. 

“i’m hit!” a bravo shouted. 

you dashed up the stairs but soap pulled you back before you reached the top, gripping your utility vest to bring you into him. “hey! wait till i clear it!” 

“okay, then hurry up!” you huffed as soap went ahead of you and leaned around the corner, taking out the men in the other room. 

you used that time to scurry off behind him and out onto the terrace where the injured soldier had crawled in order to get out of firing range. 

you crouched beside him and slung your bag off your shoulder. “here,” you said as you pressed a cloth to his bullet wound. “hold pressure!”

a loud shotgun in the next room made you jump. you turned to look, your hands deep in your bag. you spotted soap and let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn’t him at the end of the barrel. 

you heard soap’s footsteps return out onto the deck. “one’s in the hallway,” the soldier said to soap. 

you worked deftly to pack and wrap the wound as soap slid off down the hall and you heard a strangled cry as he knifed someone. 

“ghost, enemy rockets down,” soap said in your ear. 

“thanks,” the man before you mumbled as his hand replaced yours where he began to hold the bandage. you heard soap speaking in the next room.

“the house is clear. time to go,” ghost muttered in your ear. 

“it just grazed you,” you said to the sergeant. “you should be alright as long as we limit the bleeding.”

soap appeared beside you moments later, helping the man up as he limped. “you good to walk?” 

the man nodded. 

“all bravo circle up outside,” ghost commanded. 

“let’s go,” soap said down to you. 

you ran after soap down the steps and out into the field. you spotted the crash site not too far ahead and you felt your ears ring seeing the formidable tower of flames in the backdrop.

it didn’t take long to approach the ship and you followed soap and ghost as they entered the terminal.

“we got five k.i.a., one wounded. it’s just my gun and i’m low on ammo.” 

you slid past soap and rushed to the man on the ground. the sergeant was knocked out cold and you quickly tried to make a mental note of his vitals. you tried to remember his name, but with everything that was occupying your brain right now, it eluded you.

you knew the others were talking, but you didn’t hear them as you honed in on the man bleeding out before you. 

“get your gun on that tree line,” you finally deciphered through your hazy thoughts as ghost spoke.

you looked over your shoulder as loud explosions went off and shook the craft. 

“fuck, man! fuck,” the alpha said. 

“you called it, lt.!” soap said as he aimed his gun out the ship’s window. 

as you bandaged the man, ghost and soap began firing rapidly. 

“they’re getting close. secure the ramp!”

your heart felt like it was in your throat. another bomb went off and the craft shook violently. you yelped, falling sideways. 

“sergeant!” ghost called. you pushed yourself up and tried to orient yourself. ghost shouted your name when you wouldn’t reply. you looked up at him. “you alright?”

you stared at him before your eyes flickered to soap who was shooting his gun out the window. 

“are you alright?” ghost said more forcefully, his frame bending in half, his face now in your direct line of sight to grab your attention. it hadn’t registered that ghost was talking to you. you were only frazzled from the rocking of the craft, the explosions ringing in your ear, but you were otherwise safe behind ghost and soap, so you weren’t sure why he was so set on making sure you were okay. 

however, ghost seemed to not be able to accept that you were okay until you verbally told him. 

“yes,” you said faintly. ghost turned back to aiming his gun out the window without a second thought.

after another minute of gunfire, there was a lull. 

“we clear?” soap asked. 

“for now…” ghost replied. 

you finished wrapping the arm of the bleeding soldier, and assessed that he had hit his head and had knocked himself out. 

“alpha, you’re with us.” ghost commanded as he took off out of the ship. you and the men followed. you spoke over the comms to let the others know you left a soldier back in the crash site. he was wounded, but would be okay. 

“those fuckers used us as bait, didn’t they?” alpha 0-2 said. 

“they’re well supplied and fighting relentlessly. thanks to hassan,” ghost said unhappily. 

soap looked back at you. “keep up. we’re gonna need ya.”

you hustled behind him, your pistol at the ready.

the lot of you ran a wide berth, sprinting towards building 3, hoping hassan was inside. the sharp whistle of a bullet spiraled past you. 

“a.q. sniper on the roof! get down!” ghost shouted to everyone. before you even had a chance to move, ghost was pushing you down into the grass. you gasped as you were squashed beneath him, laid out on the dirt. he held his gun up and aimed at the roof as he lay beside you. 

“soap, take out the shooter. rest o’ ya stay low until we’re all clear!” ghost said, not acknowledging the fact that he had just pressed you flat to the ground, his body half covering yours. 

soap shot a bullet. “sniper down!”

ghost rolled off of you and stood up, giving you a quick hand as he heaved you upright. he didn’t even look at you before he took off running towards building 3. your entire body was tingling.

it looked like a gallant eruption of fireworks above the building as enemy bullets fired toward you. air support lighting up the sky. soap was a few feet behind you and picked off the snipers one by one. you followed close behind the others as you approached the building. 

soap was quick to follow, coming up from behind and going up the stairs and into the decrepit house. “7-1, moving interior,” he said. 

glass exploding rippled in the building and you peeked inside to see soap shooting someone down. 

“check the bodies, we need positive i.d. on hassan,” ghost said as he slid off to go in the right-side entrance. 

you hunched over slightly as you followed behind him, looking down at ghost’s trail of corpses as you did, checking for hassan. 

“anyone have eyes on hassan?” ghost asked after a minute. 

“negative on hassan,” soap replied. 

you tripped over rubble and fell to your knees with a huff. “shit,” you muttered to yourself. your foot was lodged in the concrete chunks. you tried to pull it free but that just shifted the rubble further, a large piece falling over your ankle. it was too heavy for you to move yourself. the house shook.

“sergeant,” ghost said, making you look up. he had backtracked when he realized you were no longer behind him. 

“i can’t get my foot loose,” you said. 

arabic echoed down the hall making your head snap up in alert. ghost began moving faster, squatting down as he approached you and heaving the rubble aside to get your foot out in one easy motion. 

“ow, fuck,” you said, biting your lip to try and muffle your sounds. 

ghost’s eyes flickered to yours before he moved the last piece that set your foot free. 

the rest of bravo had already moved to the antithetical end of the house when the voices began to close the distance. 

“shit,” ghost mumbled, pulling you up. he did so with such force that you collided into him, your hands landing against his chest with a gasp.

the men sounded close and you counted at least four different voices. their candace rose as they edged closer, like they were right around the corner when you were moved by ghost and suddenly faced with darkness. 

“wha–” 

ghost’s hand covered your mouth to silence you, pushing you against a wall. your eyes adjusted and you saw a sliver of light pour in through the slats of the door. ghost had pulled you into a closet. a very tiny closet at that. 

your chest was pressed flesh against ghost’s, the room far too small to hold yourself and ghost–who was already too big to fit in a closet on his own, let alone one with you. 

you could feel his chest move up and down as he steadied his breathing. your hands were on his utility vest. the voices of the men were now right outside the door. your fingers gripped tight on his vest as you tried to be as quiet as possible. he slowly let his hand fall to his side when he could trust you to be silent.

why wasn’t ghost attacking them? you’ve seen him take down trained men in less than two seconds. so why did he decide to hide now? was four too many for him? you doubted it, but you also tried not to think of the logistics because all that swam through your mind was how close ghost was to you. there was almost no space between your bodies, his front flesh against yours as he pushed you against the wall. 

a rectangle of light slid across ghost’s face, illuminating his eyes which were visible now that his goggles were turned up on his helmet, making the brown in them gleam. like he could feel you staring, he looked down at you and you felt your face heat. you shifted your stance, trying to widen the distance between your bodies but your back was already flat against the wall. there was nowhere to go. 

“what’re you doin’?” he said quietly.

you glared at him in response as you continued to slightly shift your body, wanting to at least have it so your side was pressed against him and not your front. you tried to shuffle your feet, wanting to turn, to push him back a bit, but you ended up just rubbing against him instead.

“quit squirming!” he finally hissed, his hands coming out to rest on either side of your head. 

well now you were just stuck in an awkward stance so you tried to move your hips a bit, wanting to pull them away from ghost and back to how you were originally standing, but with the limited space, you were essentially just moving your hips against his own. 

ghost growled in his throat and you stopped moving and let your breathing steady. you felt something hard press against your stomach and your eyes widened as you stared at ghost’s chest. 

oh my god, you thought.

you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes flickered to his own, his eyes already pouring into you. your breath got caught in your throat. “i told ya to quit fuckin’ wiggling ‘round,” he said as if that made things more appropriate. 

a flash of heat ebbed through your core. you told yourself that this was purely a physical thing– men could get turned on by a goddamn gust of wind if it hit them the right way. this had nothing to do with the fact that it was you pressed against him. this kind of bodily response would have happened no matter who it was against him.  

you went to clench your thighs together in nerves and heat but you were stopped by ghost’s thigh. you realized the ceiling in there was too short for him and he had to hunch over, his knees bending and leaning on the wall between your own legs. oh my god , you thought again.

your face went red hot. fuck, of course you were stuck with ghost in the world’s smallest closest.

ghost’s eyes traced your face when he felt your legs press against his own, a sudden flare igniting in them. 

oh no, did he think you were… you quickly worried. you wondered if ghost could tell you had been squeezing your legs together to subdue the quick sweeping sensation of arousal you got–this was not the time or place!

ghost’s head shifted ever so slightly closer to your own and his eyes were now disguised by the shadows of the closet. you could feel his warm breath against your face as he panted through his mask. you were trapped. he had you pinned, his large arms encasing your head, his leg between your own, his face inching closer to yours. 

you felt your breath get lost in your throat, your mind suddenly going blank. 

“ghost! ghost, where are you?” soap’s voice broke through both of your ears. 

ghost halted any and all movement, his eyes flickering between your own. you realized you no longer heard iranian voices and wondered how long the men had been out of range. 

it was as if ghost realized that at the same time you did because he pushed away from you and slid out the door, into the dusty and war-torn living room. now that he was away from you and not clogging your brain, you thought you might have imagined the way he had been edging toward you.

“deck one secure. any i.d. on hassan?” ghost spoke, his voice strained. 

you slid out of the closet behind him. “negative, lt.” soap replied. 

ghost turned to you as you stumbled into him, your ankle giving out at the most opportune time. 

“ shit ,” you grunted. ghost turned his head to look at you, his eyes glowing in the flames that brewed inside the building. “sorry,” you muttered. 

“keep close,” he said to you. you felt your chest ignite. you had to control your eyes from shifting to his waist to see what you felt moments earlier. you were surprised your willpower was strong enough. 

ghost led you around the bend and up a set of stairs, soap appearing beside you both. “pushing second deck.”

you slid on your night vision goggles and watched as ghost scurried to the side of a door when he made it to the top of the steps. a man opened it and walked through, ghost grabbing him and slamming him against the wall, the man’s gun pressed to his chest. in two swift motions, ghost shot his abdomen then his head, letting the body sink down. 

jesus . you always knew ghost was a ruthless killer, but that was more so knowledge in theory. it was another thing entirely to watch it unfold before your own eyes. 

you followed the men as they stealthed into the next room. you heard soap’s gun go off, and then ghost’s voice. “clear. hassan’s everywhere…” 

you could hear hassan’s voice as it played in the distance, seemingly from every room. a video on loop of him speaking nonsense sat in the shadows like a horror movie. you felt a chill run down your legs realizing that no matter which way you turned, hassan’s voice was not far off. 

“everywhere but here,” you mumbled. ghost’s eyes scanned you up and down before trailing on into the next room. you swore every hair on your body stood on its ends. 

“the perpetrators of general ghorbrani’s execution must be sentenced to the death penalty and the world must witness the death of those responsible!” hassan’s iranian accent sang through a crackling radio. 

you and soap poked around, not finding anything of use, apart from soap spotting hassan’s uniform, meaning he had recently been here. 

“so he was here,” you muttered.

“lost him when we secured the crash site,” ghost spoke, looking between you and soap.

“are you sayin’ we shouldn’t have helped?” soap asked.

ghost averted his eyes on his next words as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “choices have consequences…” his eyes gazed over to yours, burning holes through his skull mask. you could see the disappointment and guilt that was attached to his statement. you were surprised at how much emotion he was able to exude through just his eyes. you wondered if he knew that. 

“all bravo- we got movement out here,” someone said over the comms. 

ghost reached up to click his receiver, his eyes still on yours, “on the way.”

you followed behind the two men as the continued to speak. as you made it out behind the house, ghost spoke, “what do we got?”

“a warehouse. roll up doors open. heard somethin’ inside.”

ghost spoke with a sense of assuredness, “copy, let’s clear it.”

you trailed the men as they all took off towards the large warehouse, ghost and soap hoping that hassan was nestled inside. 

you rested your back against the building as the men started inside, gunshots and smoke bombs going off as they fought the enemy planted in the warehouse. 

“all alone?” a husky voice with a thick iranian accent spoke. you looked to your right, your hands grabbing your gun, startled, when a man disarmed you in a quick, fluid motion. 

you yelped as his hand wrapped around your neck, pressing you forcefully to the exterior wall. you saw static stars begin to spread across your vision. 

shit, shit, shit.

your legs flailed as you tried to kick and squirm your way out of his grip. his hand held you tighter. you swore your feet began to lift off the ground. recalling all the training you had done the last two weeks, you propped your knee up, bending it as much as you could against your chest, then shot it out with all the strength you could manage. the man stumbled, releasing you, as he collapsed onto the ground. 

“eahira” bitch . he scrambled to get up and you panicked, trying to get your knife out of it’s sheath. 

before the man could grab you again, his body just a hair from your own, a bullet pierced his skull. flecks of his blood squirted across your exposed face like red freckles. you stood in complete shock, the man sinking to the ground with a thump.

it was ghost that replaced the dead man, his hands resting on your shoulder, his deep voice saying your name repeatedly. 

you finally looked up at him. “are you okay?” you swear you could see a bit of pride in his eyes as he took you in.

you nodded weakly, wincing as your neck muscles throbbed in pain from the small movement. 

ghost yanked your mask up to look at your neck, already beginning to bruise. 

his eyes darkened as they met yours again. “if that fucker wasn’t already dead, i’d tie him up and rip off his limbs one by one for that.”

you couldn’t help the astonished laugh from escaping your lips at the exorbitant threat. then a pang of heat surfaced when you realized ghost had made no such threats as his other men were picked off. he also didn’t seem to rush to their aid immediately. yet here he was… with you. 

“hassan,” you said meekly. 

ghost’s hands left your shoulders as he straightened. you felt a bit of sadness at the loss of contact. 

“not here. found an arsenal of ballistic missiles. american missiles.”

your eyes widened at the information. “and shepperd…”

“already alerted.”

you nodded. “so that’s it then?” you asked, referring to the war trail you and your men left behind with nothing to show for it. 

ghost gave a nod back. “we’re one step closer. we’ll find him.” 

you don’t know why you took his word with such ease, but you knew he meant what he said. ghost wouldn’t rest until he had hassan in his clutches. 

day broke by the time a humvee arrived to carry you all back to base. the injured men were loaded on one, the rest of bravo and alpha on another. there were significantly fewer men than when you started this hours ago. you felt a heavy feeling swarm your chest. 

you were busy making sure your bag was closed and that you had all your things in it when you looked up and saw ghost step into the back of the vehicle. 

you scurried to catch up, the last one as you climbed into the back. as you went to stand, the humvee took off, making you stumble and lose balance. 

fuck , was the last thought you had as you felt yourself falling backward out of the vehicle. your arms flailed, trying to grab onto something, when a hand gripped your vest, yanking you forward and onto the humvee. 

you looked up in relief to find ghost glaring at you. his hand was still tight around your tactical vest, the other men closest to the back were out of their seats in an effort to grab you. but of course, ghost got there first. 

his eyes bore into your own, an odd wave of spite in them. 

you knew it was your fault for dilly-dallying, but was he really going to be upset at you for almost falling out of the vehicle? it should cause more annoyance than anger, really. 

you gulped and ghost released you, moving back to his seat. you stared after him until you felt soap touch your wrist. “sit,” he mumbled. 

you focused on him instead of your lieutenant and sat in the empty seat beside soap. 

you shifted your bag so it was on your lap, the men around you silent, all of them exhibiting a mix of disappointment in their mission and exhaustion. 

you felt his eyes on you–something that seemed to happen a lot lately. you tried to resist, but you looked in his direction and met his gaze. you thought he’d look away, but he held you in a challenge across the truck. he still had all his gear on when most others had stripped some of theirs off.

he sat a bit forward, resting his arms on his knees as he glared at you. 

you felt your heartbeat race and you felt like you might be sick with all the adrenaline running through you today–it couldn’t be healthy.

you finally coward away and looked down at your bag. a looming feeling coursed through your body. for whatever reason, the moment he pulled you into the truck felt like it was a breaking point for him. he was right back to hating you. despising everything you did. you felt yourself shrink in on yourself.

you never felt his eyes leave you the entire way back. 

chapter 5 ➡

[thescarletnargacuga]

BULLSEYE

A CANON TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit: @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

Caine is blowing off some steam at the Capsule's shooting range. Pomni joins him, curious how he has such good marksmanship. Can he teach her?

WARNING: mention of PTSD

~~~

BANG!!

Caine pulled the bolt on the M1903 Springfield rifle, discharging a .30 bullet casing and readying the next shot. He focused down range through the scope.

BANG!!

He narrowed his eyes. Each shot was a memory. Another target. Another kill. Another enemy destroyed. He pulled the bolt, throwing another case.

BANG!!

The shots were tightly grouped in the center. This was a very dead soldier, but he had be sure. He pulled the bolt.

BANG!!

He readied the final shot the fastest, pulling the trigger less than a second after the firing chamber was closed.

BANG!!

Caine stood up straight and ejected the final casing. The target down range no longer had a center. Not a single shot went astray. He took a deep breath, putting away the foul wartime memories. A guest had really pissed him off today and he resorted to shooting the feelings away, despite the fact that the loud gunshots always took him back to the trenches.

Caine could feel someone's eyes on him. "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" He set the rifle down and turned to see Pomni peeking from behind a tent flap.

"Sorry. I just, um...heard the gunfire and I thought all the guests were gone for today so I wanted to see what all the noise was about." Pomni stepped out of her hiding spot. Her posture was sheepish, but she made eye contact with Caine.

"The guests are gone. Finally. I was using the range. It's one of the few things I get to do for fun around here." He almost looked away from Pomni. She was one of the few that would look directly at him. Most people couldn't stand the look of him. Too strange. Too unusual. So he found it mildly intimidating that she'd not only look at him, but even smile sometimes. It made his chest feel weird.

Pomni saw the downrange target. "Did you do that? That's incredible accuracy."

The compliment nearly went over his head. Of course he did that. He's the only one here. Wait a second- "Thank you." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I've....had a lot of practice."

"I can only imagine, considering you've been here the longest. Have you tried the other weapons?" Pomni thumbed at the rental counter, where an NPC clerk stood lifelessly at the register.

"No, I prefer this model."

Pomni looked over the Springfield. "You made those shots with this? It doesn't look like it would shoot straight if you took it to church."

"This was top of the line!" Caine said indignantly.

Pomni smirked. "It makes your skill all the more impressive."

Caine's defensiveness deflated immediately. "I- um..." There she went, making his chest feel funny again. For once, he was at a loss for words and he was grateful Kinger wasn't here to witness it.

"Can you teach me?"

Caine blinked. "What?"

"Can you teach me? We have nothing but time and learning a new skill would be a great way to pass it."

Caine knew all about that. In his time in the capsule, he's learned everything from being ambidextrous to sewing to art to different languages. "Alright." He showed her a magazine of five .30-6 bullets. "Ammunition." He picked up the rifle with one hand and showed her how to load it. "Goes here." He opened the firing chamber. "When you pull back on the bolt, It releases the expended casing and loads the next bullet. Push forward and fully lock in place before firing."

Caine pressed a button and his target was charged out with a new one before handing Pomni the rifle. She took it with both hands, surprised by its weight. Caine stood close next to her and showed her how to properly hold that rifle. "Basic safety. Always keep the barrel facing down range or at the ground, even when unloaded. Never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to fire."

"Okay." Pomni started to feel nervous. The gun was a real weapon and it was really loaded. She was almost afraid it would go off on its own unexpectedly. Caine's guiding hands on hers helped her nerves.

Caine was in full instructor mode. He tiled the barrel up to align the sites. "To aim, use the scope by lining up your dominant eye with the tip of the stock. Don't put your eye right up against the scope. That's a good way to blind yourself."

Now Pomni was actually nervous. Her rapid heartbeat made the gun tremble.

Caine placed a hand on Pomni's upper back. "Lean into the shot when you fire and keep a firm grip. The rifle will kick back some." He double checked the firing chamber. She was loaded and secured. "Fire when ready."

Pomni took a minute to get a feel for the sight and tried to line it up with the center of the target. Her finger grazed the trigger, half expecting it to go off immediately, but it actually took some effort to squeeze.

BANG!!

Pomni hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until she gasped. She lowered the rifle and squinted to see where she hit. There was a small hole in the top center of the target.

Caine's brow raised. "Not bad. You were dead on, just a little high. Want to try again?"

Pomni felt a little adrenaline rush and nodded excitedly. She brought the rifle back up to aim.

"You're forgetting something." Caine smirked.

Pomni furrowed for a second. "...oh!" She pulled open the bolt and the expended casing clattered to the ground. She pushed it back in and carefully locked the firing chamber closed.

"There you go. A few aiming tips: keep both eyes open, this will reduce eye strain." Caine reached around and tapped next to her closed eye, she opened it in response. "You did good holding your breath before firing, but don't hold it too long. The faster your heart beats, the harder it is to aim."

"Yeah, I noticed." Pomni laughed anxiously. "First time jitters."

BANG!!

The shot went wide right, hitting the edge of the target. Pomni lowered the rifle, disappointed.

"That's alright. None of us are Annie Oakley the first time." Caine consoled. "Rest your arms when you need to. Holding the rifle up like this for long periods of time will make your muscles shake if you're not used to it."

"Right." Pomni racked the next shot, doing it much smoother this time.

Caine watched her each time to make sure she was doing it correctly, but the determined tone in her voice with how quickly she set up the next shot was doing strange things to him. He mentally reprimanded himself for such thoughts and focused on Pomni's aim, his face right next to hers. "A little more to the left. Up a degree. There. Now, breathe in."

Pomni inhaled. She could feel her heart in her ears.

"Fire." Caine whispered.

BANG!!

A hole was in the bottom of the center. Pomni smiled brightly. "I did it!"

Caine found her excitement contagious, smiling with her. "You did it. Very well done."

Pomni set the rifle down. "I think that's enough for me for now, but thank you so much for this. I can see why you come here. It must be rather nice to imagine guest faces on those targets."

Caine chuckled. "It's a guilty pleasure. And between you and me." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I imagine BUBLE too."

Pomni giggled. "Give him two between the eyes for me."

"Yes, ma'am." Caine picked up the rifle, racked the next shot and fired. Then racked and fired again in rapid succession. Both shots hit dead center.

Pomni's jaw dropped. "How- now you're just showing off." She crossed her arms.

The rifle's barrel smoked from use as Caine cleared the final casing. "Maybe." He said coyly.

~~~

A/N: I'm on a time capsule kick lol

[absentwriterdoll]

896

C:"896, signal lost."

...

W:"896, still active."

C:"896, copy."

I can feel the hydraulics straining as I push against the controls.

As ever, if the reactor is still intact, it's not a confirmed kill.

The display shifts from dirt to the horizon.

Tracers streak across the sky.

H:[Warning. Internal bleeding detected.]

I can feel as much.

I scan my HUD.

Right side, lost. Left shoulder, depleted. Left arm at 35%. Left hip at 10%. Point defense at 20%, 45%, 30%, 10% respectively.

I sigh.

It hurts.

Even if I wanted to, there's not much more that I can do.

W:"896, munitions depleted, heavy damage sustained. Requesting permission to withdraw."

C:"896, granted."

W:"Harry, plot a course home."

H:[Acknowledged.]

I notice my point defense lighting up at far-off infantry.

I swap them to critical only. With this damage, I'll need the cover in case another mech realizes I'm still alive.

H:[Course plotted.]

W:"Send it."

I feel my legs shift under me - but I keep my eyes on the horizon, my weapons pointed toward the enemy battleline. A wounded mech is always a primary target.

Two missiles streak out from the infantry I saw earlier - nothing my point defense can't handle. Though, for good measure, I send a few rounds their way.

Everything hurts.

H:[Administering stimulant.]

A sharp sting in my neck - just a prelude to the pain lessening.

At least, in a minute or two, anyway.

Part of me wonders how much I could leave to the onboard AI. It already calculates most of the firing solutions.

My role is just selecting a target and pulling the trigger.

But it always has to be a human pulling a trigger.

Otherwise...

It becomes a question of when the AI starts deciding who is worth pulling the trigger on.

Can't let it start deciding who lives and who dies.

Best case scenario, it turns on its makers.

Worst case scenario, things devolve into a forever war.

…

Who’s to say that this isn’t a forever war already.

A mech raises itself on the horizon.

And I begin loosing rounds downrange.

My missing mass causes most of my fire to go wide initially.

A series of flashes.

And I react.

A round strikes me - but it’s off center.

Better than the alternative.

But my left hip doesn’t respond. I’m nearly defenseless.

W:“896, requesting support, relaying target.”

H:[Relaying target.]

It’s nearly all I can do to hope for the best.

M:“512, responding.”

H:[Radar lock detected.]

Tracers light up the mech from its side, causing it to buckle and flare - right as it looses a fusillade of missiles from one of its shoulder pods.

My point defense lights up, as does those of 512’s.

One zeroes out. I turn my hull to expose Three and Four.

Four zeroes out.

But Two and Three manage to clear the air with 512’s help.

10% and 5%.

W:“896, permission to request cover.”

C:“896, granted. Assigning 512.”

M:”512, moving to cover 896.”

W:“896, thank you.”

An unnecessary communication slips from me.

But it’s the truth.

I should be dead.

But I’m not.

C:“512, signal lost.”

In the corner of my eye, I see 512 light up - and vanish into fire.

And I see the one that did it. 

I loose rounds from my left arm - until it clacks empty.

And I hope to whatever gods may be listening that it doesn’t get back up.

Their reactor is still intact. It’s not a confirmed kill.

W:“896, relaying target, requesting kill confirm.”

A few moments pass - and then tracers streak in from afar.

Then a detonation.

L:“288, confirmed.”

W:“896, acknowledged.”

C:“288, cover 896’s retreat.”

L:“288, copy.”

In silence, I think my gratitude.

Part of me wonders if I should just withdraw on foot.

I glance at Harry’s AI core.

It would be a simple matter of-

L:“896, bogey.”

W:“896, munitions, defenses depleted, ejecting.”

H:[Radar lock detected.]

W:“Eject.”

H:[Ejecting. Give them hell.]

I pull Harry’s AI core.

And I’m launched into the air.

Tracers from the point defense flash out below me - until both remaining guns zero out. In the air, I release myself from my seat and spark my jumpjets.

Below me, my mech detonates.

On the horizon, I watch 288 engage the enemy.

288 closes with the bogey, tracers streaking between the two, maneuver jets flaring.

288 manages to get behind the bogey and tears the reactor core out - tossing it and firing a round at it before turning its attention back to the dying remains of the mech -

And slaughters the remainder.

I reach the ground.

I take a deep breath.

Thank Harry for the stimulant.

Thank 288 for the cover.

And run.

=====

Cast in order of appearance:

C - Control, the battalion’s handler. Used to be a pilot.

W - William, 896’s pilot. The most experienced pilot in the battalion.

H - Harry, 896’s AI. Leaves a copy of itself onboard when 896 ejects.

M - Maya, 512’s pilot. Relatively inexperienced. A rookie that tried to fill bigger shoes.

L - Liam, 288’s pilot. A vicious warfighter, leaving nothing to chance.

=====

Inspired by Armored Core VI and The Forever Winter.

[evilvvithin]

endless gifs of SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY➛ 5/∞

"Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive... — CAPTURE OR KILL

[jinxxangel13]

Phantom of the Night

Chapter 3-full

I've been so excited to post this chapter that I actually forgot to post it on time. I'm not surprised anymore! Hope you enjoy! Tw: blood, gore, death, minor character deaths, injuries, inaccurate military and medical terms (I tried to research as best as possible, sorry if they're wrong!)

~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~

Heavy set boots were all that could be heard around the hangard. Soldiers moving quickly on and around a transport plane, giving a wide berth to a large man with a completely black tactical gear, black skull balaclava and hard white skull mask cover the top half of the face mask: Lieutenant Ghost. 

“Wheels up in five.”

Some soldiers rushed faster to get their seats on the plane and double check their gear, but a few remained rooted in their spot, Ghost included.

“Roger.” His gruff voice cut across the radio back to General Shepherd.

“Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeant are leading the way on this.”

Ghost tilted his head, annoyance in his voice lost in the neutral tone.

“Sergeant?”

A 6 foot tall man walked up to Ghost with an enthusiastic step. His hair shaved on the sides with a sort of mohawk down the center of his head, blue eyes sharp and full of excitement.

“Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, L.T.? Save ya a seat, sir.” 

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.

Soap fist bumped Ghost’s shoulder before making his way up the transport plane, making eye contact with another soldier walking up to the plane looking oddly out of place.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grumbled.

“Ghost- do you copy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Any issues?”

“Negative, Sir.”

“Good. Captain Phantom will also be joining you on this mission. Get it done.”

Just as Shepherd finished his statement, the mystery figure Soap saw previously made their way towards Ghost.

The figure was wearing black tactical cargo pants with multiple knife straps and holsters on the thighs, a black long sleeve with a hooded overlay on top, tac vest full of frags, flashbangs, extra ammo clips and other things in pouches unknown to anyone except the figure wearing it, as well as a short black scarf around their neck and tucked into their vest. They had a balaclava across the lower half of their face with a thick black metal tactical mask over it, grey eyes almost gleaming as they stopped in front of Ghost, and their hair was underneath the scarf and out of view so he couldn’t identify this mystery person. When they stopped in front of Ghost, they had to look up quite a bit; being less than 6' compared to the 6'4" man didn't seem to be a deterrent for them at all. 

“Lieutenant Ghost, good to meet you. Captain Phantom.” The figure, the female, stuck her gloved hand out towards him.

Ghost shook her hand briefly, keeping in mind the strong grip each of them had on the other’s before they let go.

“On your move, sir. I’ve been requested by the General and Station Chief Laswell to accompany you and your men as backup on Alpha Team. I’m familiar with the mission and have been read in.” Her voice was deep, partially muffled and grainy from behind both masks, but she didn't seem to mind nor care.

Ghost nodded, turned away from her and walked right up into the transport plane with her at his heels to grab a seat and buckle in just as the door sealed shut for takeoff.

The teams spent a while in the air, not much conversation going on except for Ghost to introduce Phantom to Alpha team briefly. 

“Bravo Team offloads here. Alpha Team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill.” Ghost's strong voice echoed through the radio in Phantom’s ear as well as directly in front of her.

She watched as Bravo team got ready to unload as the plane landed momentarily, nodding to Ghost as they made eye contact and accepting a first bump from Soap as they got off.

Phantom pulled her goggles down over her eyes and gripped tightly onto her M16 between her legs as the plane took off again to head to their final destination. She kept herself strapped in on instinct, as if something was telling her to brace herself and she was never one to ignore her instincts.

Another minute in the air and it grew more tense as she exchanged glances with her other team members after the plane made a sudden drop on the right side.

“All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed, we're getting lit! Incoming- Flares! Flares!”

Phantom’s eyes grew wide as one of the soldiers stood up to go help the pilots. She could hear the flares going off outside of their plane as it righted itself once again.

“Shit- that was fucking close.”

She chuckled, agreeing with another soldier in front of her and letting her shoulders relax themselves slightly.

“Second missile!”

Phantom barely had any time to brace herself and her weapon before a loud crash sounded on the right side of the plane, throwing anything or anyone not strapped down off balance. She grappled a soldier about to crumple to the ground, pulling him down onto the seat next to her.

“Razor 1 going down! We're going down!” That was the last thing Phantom heard in her ear before she felt the plane plummet down to the ground, grinding and crunching metal the only thing anyone in the vicinity could hear. 

The sound was deafening; a ringing in her ears as she slowly came to. Everything was blurry and she couldn’t make out the garbled voices in her ear before a shrill let off through her radio. With a heavy hand, she ripped the contraption out of her ear before taking a moment to regain her bearings. 

Phantom could barely register her own coughing, let alone the one or two soldiers near her as she struggled to unbuckle herself from her seat.

“Alp--immobile. -Critical! Taking effective fire!” 

Phantom shook her head a little, running her hand across her head, hissing as she brushed against a gash over her temple; must have hit her head on the headrest or something. The piercing sound of bullets from around them was grounding her enough to be able to open her eyes, finding her gun still hooked around her foot.

“Still alive there, Cap?”

Phantom’s eyes were unfocused as she looked around the voice, jolting when a hand steadied her as she stood up. Her legs almost collapsed from underneath her, but she knew they’d be dead if she didn’t stay upright.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was harsh as she spoke, finally able to get her hands to stop shaking enough to lift her gun up.

Muscle memory started to kick in as her mind caught up with the fact they were in the middle of the battlefield. The man in front of her she didn’t know except his radio callsign.

“Just you and I?” 

Alpha 0-2 and Phantom looked around.

“5 KIA, one wounded, you and I standing. Get your gun on that treeline. Gotta hold them off until Bravo team can clear those buildings.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Phantom leaned heavily against the right wall, windows blown out, and raised her gun to help drop as many AQ members as possible.

She could barely hear the other man over the sounds of gunfire and rpg’s going off in the background, but she could tell that he was talking to Bravo team over his radio.

“I don’t have coms! What’s going on?”

There was a lapse in firing, so Phantom took the moment to reload her gun as quickly as possible; easier said than done when her hands were still shaking from adrenaline, but it at least distracted from the headache.

“Bravo team is on their way. Keep your eyes peeled!”

“Copy!” Was her immediate reply as she leaned her back against the metal siding.

Barely 30 seconds had passed before she heard footsteps fast approaching the opened back of the plane. As she turned her sights towards the entrance, she heard a familiar voice hastily calling out to the two of them.

“Blue, blue, blue!”

Her posture relaxed slightly as Ghost and Soap ran into the plane wreckage.

“Damn good to see you both.” Phantom groaned out, repositioning herself against the corner of the window, switching to her rifle and pointing it out as she focused her eyes on the treeline but still listening to the men.

“We got five KIA, one wounded. It's just my gun and I'm low on ammo. Help me move him-”

“No time.” Ghost cut him off, sliding behind Phantom to pat her shoulder and set himself up at the next window. “Get your gun on that treeline.”

Soap set himself up in a crouching position at the plane opening after placing down a few proximity mines a few paces away as a last resort.

Phantom's eyes narrow through her scope, catching Ghost’s attention at the tensing of her posture.

“See anything?” Ghost’s voice was heavier than previously.

Phantom kept her hands steady as she zeroed in on something in the distance.

“Got movement.” 

“If you have a shot, take it.”

That was all that she needed to block out any further conversation between her teammates and take initiative: headshot.

A smirk made its way across her lips from under the mask as she set up her next few shots. Phantom wasn’t registering what they were saying around her even though she could hear them until she felt the plane rock back from the force of an RPG. If it wasn't for the quick reaction time of Ghost grabbing onto the back of her vest, she would have been flung backwards from the force.

When the dust settled, she straightened herself back up, switching back to her M16.

“Thanks, L.T.” Phantom nodded to him, switching places with Soap at the opening instead. 

“We clear?” Soap kept looking out of his scope, even after Phantom gave him a nod.

Ghost huffed, reloading his gun. “For now.”

[roseghoul26]

Part 3

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author’s Note: soooo this was meant to be the final part but i got carried away so now there are four parts :D

also like 99% sure the location i describe later in the part doesn’t exist but im too lazy to figure out an actual one so just go with it please. and i have no idea if the robbery plan “arthur” came up with actual works. there’s a reason i write fanfiction and don’t rob houses.

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

Arthur had stayed by your side ever since then. He was gone some days, returning to you exhausted and sleepless, but still returning nonetheless. He helped take care of you as you recovered, attending to your every need with no complaint (you had joked that you were going to turn into an actual princess with his treatment)

By the end of the first week of your return, you had regained enough strength to get up on your own, being able to take small walks around camp and chatting with the others. You found yourself being able to stay awake longer, only having to stop a rest once or twice throughout the day. Also, most of your superficial wounds were pretty much healed at this point, small scabs and scars the only proof of their existence. 

By week two, you had started contributing with the chores, doing lighter work around the camps like sewing. You stayed outside of your tent more and more now, the weather at Clemens Point usually pleasant. The wound on your shoulder was doing much better now, and where deep purple bruises once resided were patchy yellow marks. 

When the third week rolled around, you were starting to go insane, having been confined to the one place for so long. You were pretty much back to normal, your energy returned and your wounds healed. You had begged every person who left camp to take you with them, but to no avail. 

You had even begged Charles to take you out hunting, but the steadfast man didn’t budge. Upon seeing your disappointment in his rejection, he relented… partially. Finding a spot far enough away from camp to not be an issue, but close enough for safety’s sake, Charles set up a small practice range for you to shoot your bow and guns at. You had hugged and thanked him profusely, your fingers itching to pull a trigger. He just requested you to not make him regret his decision.

The rest of the time that week was spent at the range, building back up the strength and endurance in your arms and shoulders. Your aim at the beginning was questionable, to say the least. Targets you’d normally have no issue hitting were becoming difficult, and you struggled to hold your pistol up for longer than ten seconds, your hands shaking and straining at the effort. Still, you persisted, and you found your marksmanship began to, slowly, come back to you. 

It was now the first day of the fourth week, the evening sun soaking the range in gold. It wasn’t particularly hot out, yet you still found yourself wiping beads of sweat from your brow as you started down the barrel of your rifle. There was one target left, a small green bottle roughly 200 meters downrange, slightly obscured by some hay barrels until only a portion of it was visible to you. Every other bottle lay shattered except for this one, which you’d been trying to get for what felt like forever. 

Grumbling angrily to yourself, you refocused on the object, sheer spite keeping your feet planted at the range instead of returning back to camp to retire for the night. There was a slight breeze, not enough to deter the path of the bullet, but enough to cause a few pieces of hair to flick you in the face. Your eyes focused on your target, and the world around you seemed to grow still. It was right in your sights, and you just had to squeeze…

You took a deep breath in, holding it for a split second, before releasing it. Your finger moved with your lungs, squeezing the trigger gently. A loud blast shook through you, and if there were any birds still sticking around, they would have flown away at your angry outburst afterwards.

The bottle stood intact, and you swore it was grinning smugly at you. With a huff, you released the empty shell, joining the growing pile at your feet. The sound of hoofbeats from behind caused you to lower your weapon, slinging it over your shoulder. The motion caused a slight tinge of pain to shoot through you, going away as quick as it came. Still, you couldn’t help the slight grimace of pain from appearing on your face as you turned to see who was behind you. The place that Charles had selected for you was just off the entrance of camp, so you had a slightly obscured view of people coming and going.

The sight of a familiar brown horse, and the sound of an even more familiar gruff voice had you smiling widely. Quickly scooping the empty shells into a bucket, the fresh one burning your hand slightly, you headed back to camp. 

As you approached, you heard many voices all at once, all greeting Arthur as he got off his horse. As he patted his steed, you saw him glazing around, eyes darting around as he searched for something. He must’ve not found what he was looking for, as he had a slightly confused expression as he made his way toward Dutch. The leader of the Van Der Linde gang stood outside his tent smoking a cigar as he warmly greeted Arthur, clapping the younger man on his shoulder. Arthur had his back to you as he talked with Dutch, and you were just out of earshot of their conversation, barely in the camp at this point. 

Passing Pearson’s wagon as you approached Arthur, you saw Dutch look around as well. When his gaze landed on you, he greeted you with a friendly smile, before pointing at you with his cigar over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Your lover spun around, an enormous grin on his face when he finally locked eyes with you. Finally close enough to hear the two of them, you heard Dutch say “We’ll talk later,” practically shoving the younger man away from him and towards you. He gave Dutch an incredulous look before returning his attention to you, smiling impossibly brighter when you were finally within arms reach of him. 

Setting the bucket and gun down at your feet, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burrowing your face in his chest as you held him close. A pleased hum left you as you felt one of his hands hold the back of your head, the other wrapping around your hip. “Hello, princess,” you heard him say. Tilting your head back so you could see Arthur fully, you stood up on your toes so you could kiss him. He held your kiss longer than what was probably appropriate for being in the middle of camp, but you couldn’t care less. After pulling away, he rested his head against yours, one hand still around your backside. His hat sat precariously on his head, dangerously close to falling off. 

“Hi, Arthur,” you breathed. “I’ve missed you.”

“Already? It’s only been a week. I’d’ve thought you’d been sick of me already.”

“Never.”

“And just what were you up to while I was gone?” You saw him eye the bucket and rifle forgotten behind you, and the two of you took a step back from the other, still close enough to touch though.

“I’ve been doing some shooting. Charles set it up for me.”

“Did he now?” He asked, not out of jealousy, but more out of concern of you overexerting yourself. 

“It was either that, or take me hunting. I’ve practically begged everyone in camp to take me out. I’ve gone a little crazy being stuck here.”

Arthur chuckled. “Noted. So,” he gestured to the weapon, “any luck?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you turned and  picked up the items, the rifle going back over your shoulder. You stepped out of the shade created by Dutch’s tent, the light causing your eyes to scrunch close. It was close to sundown by this point, but a nice amber glow still washed over the camp, with the lake turning into a body of lava. “Mostly,” you scoffed, and began walking back toward the range, determination now taking over you again. 

You expected to hear footfalls behind or beside you, but when you didn’t, you turned back around with a puzzled expression. Arthur just stood there, still in the shade, mouth parted slightly as he stared at you. 

Cocking your head, you thought that might get his attention, but you started to feel a little self conscious (and worried) when he continued to just look at you. “Is there something on my face?” you joked half-heartedly, tapping a rhythm on your waist as you awaited a response. 

The cowboy had a slight rosy tint on his cheeks as he shook his head, but he still held his eyes on you. “Nah, it’s just… you look beautiful.”

That was certainly not what you were expecting to hear, nearly dropping the bucket of empty bullet casings. “Well, thank you, Arthur,” you responded bashfully. 

“I mean it,” he continued, slowly walking towards you now. “I mean, you always look beautiful, but somethin’ ‘bout the light… you look like an angel, like you were taken out one of them paintings.”

You certainly didn’t think so yourself, but with the way Arthur looked at you, you just had to believe him. His hands now cupped your face, thumbs rubbing gently against your cheeks. “My angel…” he said, the words leaving his mouth gently like a secret. 

He held you, transfixed, until someone else in camp awkwardly cleared their throat. His hands dropped back to his sides, but he still had a lovesick look in his eye as he gestured for you to continue walking. “After you, my angel.”

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments. “So what am I, princess or angel?” You teased, willing your heart to slow down. You could feel Arthur’s heavy gaze on you as you walked. 

“You can’t be both?”

“‘Fraid not. One or the other.”

“Says who? ‘Cause they clearly haven’t met you.”

“You’re a silly man, Arthur Morgan.”

“I’m only tellin’ the truth! I swear!” 

Finally reaching the practice range, you stood where you had prior, and you set the bucket back down. Turning your head to look at Arthur, you were slightly startled at his closeness. Wrapping  around your midsection, he rested his head on your shoulder that didn’t hold your rifle. “‘Sides, you love it,” he continued. Kissing your temple lightly, he rocked with you back and forth, just enjoying the feeling of having you in his arms. You didn’t bother to reply; you both knew what your answer would be. 

Resting your hands atop his, you leaned back into him, your purpose for being where you were forgotten temporarily. The last rays from the setting sun lit up the field, but the growing darkness was beginning to take over. Sighing, you lightly stroked his arm, rousing his attention. “If you’re trying to distract me, you’re doing a good job at it.”

“Sorry,” he drawled, the slight laugh in his voice making it clear that he wasn’t at all. 

“I’ve got one more target. After that, I’m all yours.”

After a beat of silence, Arthur responded by opening his arms to let you out. The lack of heat from his body caused a slight shiver to wrack your body, the cooling night temperature not helping either. Bringing up your rifle and staring at your target through the scope, you found it hard to concentrate with his eyes on you. Still, you took a deep breath in, then pulled the trigger upon its release.

The shot from the gun shattered the peaceful atmosphere in the field, a few birds that had returned flying away instantly, their angry squawks and your angry curses following the blast. The shot went wide by a few inches, to your not surprise. Incoherently grumbling, you discarded the empty round, the new one loading in with a click. 

You fired off a few more rounds, each one missing your target by a small bit. It was getting late now, and it was starting to get hard to see the bottle now. 

Bringing the gun up again, you were about to fire, until a soft wait from behind you caused you to lower the weapon, looking over at Arthur confused. “No, no, bring the rifle back up.” As perplexed as you were, you complied, bringing the gun up like you were going to fire it, but keeping your finger off the trigger. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Arthur stalked around you, eyes scanning over you, assessing. 

You tried to keep still, but you couldn’t help but shift your feet nervously as his ocean blue eyes observed you. “You’re holdin’ it differently,” Arthur finally spoke, and you lowered the rifle back down.

“Huh?” Bringing it back up again, you did a mental scan of your body. Nothing felt different, but then again you did have a significant time off from using your guns. Maybe your marksmanship wasn’t coming back as well as you thought. 

“Nothin’ major,” Arthur continued. “It’s… it’s your shoulder. The left one. You’re rollin’ it forward more, and I think that’s what’s affecting the shots.”

So you tried rolling back your left shoulder, the injured joint stiff as you readjusted. Apparently that wasn’t enough, and you felt Arthur come back behind you. His chest brushed your back as he brought his arm up to your left shoulder as you held your gun up, holding it but not pushing yet. “Let me know if I’m hurtin’ you,” he murmured, and you could feel his other hand settle on your waist. 

After you nodded, you felt him press the shoulder back. It was slightly tender, but it didn’t hurt too bad. When he was satisfied with your new posture, which was starting to feel familiar, he mirrored the other hand on your waist. His lips were dangerously close to your ear as he leaned in, the fingers on your waist tightening ever-so-slightly. The proximity, while not unwelcome, caused you to take a sharp intake of breath. 

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed, a satisfied hum leaving him when you did so. God, his voice was doing nothing to help your flustered state. “Good… now, shoot.” 

Praying that your exhale wouldn’t come out shakily, you breathed out, pulling the trigger as you did, like who had so many times before. However, this time, instead of the sound of the bullet hitting the hay bale, the sound of glass shattering hit your ears.

Lowering the gun slowly, a joyous laugh left you as you finally registered you hit the target. Spinning around so you were facing Arthur, you smiled brightly, the same expression on his face. “Atta girl,” he practically purred, taking the rifle from your hands and setting it on the ground beside the two of you with a thud. His praise caused a jolt of warmth to shoot through your body, causing your blood to feel like it was simmering. 

Linking your hands around his neck, you played with some of the hair that stuck out from under his hat. “How’d you know I was holding it wrong?” you asked. “It wasn’t even that obvious, you said so yourself.”

You felt him shrug. “I dunno.”

“Spend a lot of time lookin’ at me, then?” Looking up at him, you could tell that some of his confidence was beginning to falter, scared of what your reaction would be to his answer. 

“I…” he trailed off, and you could feel his fingers, which had returned to your waist, begin to pick nervously at your clothing. 

“I don’t mind.” It must have alleviated some of his worries of making you uncomfortable, because his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you nearly flush with his own. His eyes darkened at the contact, and when you tugged slightly at his hair, and a similar whine to the one he let out last time left him. The two of you had shared a good amount of kisses over the past few weeks while Arthur was still here, but they ended before anything happened. This was only the second time you’d heard that noise from him, and you had forgotten how addicting it was. 

He said your name in warning, and you gave him the most innocent look you could muster. 

“You must look at me a lot if you’re able to notice something like that.” You couldn’t help the teasing tilt in your voice. 

“It ain’t my fault you’re breathtaking. And I sure as hell ain’t the only one who looks at you.”

“You’re the only person whose eyes I want on me.” Grabbing one of his wrists, you dragged his hand up your body, bringing it up until it reached your chest. His breath hitched at the action, staring at you with pleading eyes as his hand hovered uncertainty over your breasts. “And the only person whose hands I want on me, too.”

He pulled you impossibly closer, space nonexistent between the two of you. His lips were mere centimeters from yours, and you could feel his shaky exhale as you rocked your hips against his. There was a new heated tension in the air, something you hadn’t experienced with each other yet, but you were more than willing to cross that line tonight. 

“I love you,” he whispered, an utter devotion in his eyes that you’d only seen in the most zealous devotees. But there was nothing holy about the way his lips crashed against yours, desperate and needy and hungry.

The hand that once rested on your waist cradled the side of your neck, holding you securely as he kissed you. His other hand finally made contact with your chest, and you let out pleased groans as he felt you, causing your mouth to part slightly. Eagerly taking this opportunity, Arthur’s tongue swept into your mouth, and your hands fully tangled into his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hat fell somewhere on the ground, the soft thump unheard by both of you. 

He continued exploring your chest, and you craved nothing more than to rip your shirt off so you could feel him touch on your bare skin. Imagining the calluses of his hand running across the delicate skin caused you to shiver, which didn’t go unnoticed by the cowboy. You felt him smile against your lips, before moving his kisses to your jaw, to underneath, then trailing down your neck. 

“You like that?” his spoke, voice debauched. 

“Your hands…” was all you were able to get out before your focus dissolved. 

“What ‘bout them?” He spoke between kisses, littering them across your neck. 

“I want… I want you to touch me.”

He squeezed your chest gently. “I am.”

“Take my shirt off… please.”

“As much as I’d love that, we don’t want the whole camp to see you now. You only want my eyes on you, right?” You felt his teeth nip gently at the base of your throat. 

Groaning, you rolled your head back, partially out of frustration, and partially to give Arthur better access. His touch left your chest, trailing back down your body, inching closer and closer to your center. Rutting your hips up, you tried to meet him halfway, but he remained just out of reach. Instead of touching you where you wanted, you felt light touches circle your waist, lightly brushing the small of your back before settling lower. Grabbing a handful of your ass in his large palm, you felt him smile against your neck as you let out a surprised noise. 

His other hand left your neck, and in a show of strength lifted you into his arms, both hands now holding your backside. Interlocking your legs around his waist, you couldn’t help the shocked laugh that left you. It was no secret that Arthur was a strong man, his muscular build evident of that, but the effortlessness in the way he picked you up had your stomach doing somersaults. 

Still attacking your neck with kisses, you felt him begin to move forward until you felt bark against your back. “Arthur…” you panted, and you heard a pleased groan leave him. An unmistakable hardness pressed into you now, and you felt yourself unconsciously rolling your hips against him. Your own name left his lips, the last syllable trailing off into a moan, which he muffled in the crook of your neck. 

“Please. I need you, Arthur,” you whined out, and Arthur lifted his head up, resting it now against your own. 

“Here?” Arthur asked, breathlessly. When you nodded, you could see him fighting with himself internally. “You sure? It’s… you deserve better. Should take you out… get us a room. Hell, get us an actual bed.”

“I just need you.” You ran your fingers through his hair, the brown locs haven been thoroughly tussled by your hands. Pressing a light kiss on the crooked bridge of his nose, you poured as much sincerity as you could in the action. 

“Fuck… alright princess. But we’ll have to be quick. Someone from camp-”

An unmistakable raspy voice cut through the clearing, startling poor Arthur to the point he nearly dropped you. “Arthur!” John called out, and you felt the man below you grow deathly still. 

“Where the hell are you, Arthur?” John called out again, and you could tell that Arthur was debating whether or not to respond. When the younger outlaw yelled out again, he let out a regretful sigh, before slowly lowering you to your feet. Your knees wobbled, and you held on to his broad shoulders momentarily for balance. A small proud smile adorned his face, which promptly fell when he heard John’s voice again. 

“What?” He yelled back, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. His hands were on your waist, tapping randomly as he awaited a response. You saw the light from John’s lantern begin to illuminate the clearing, so you tried your best to fix up Arthur’s appearance, smoothing out his clothing and adjusting his hair. Based on how the two of you looked, it wouldn’t be hard to determine what was happening, but you wanted to save some of the man’s dignity when facing John. 

Looking down, you saw him adjust himself, trying and failing to hide the obvious tent in his pants. Luckily, it was getting quite dark out, so he wouldn’t have to try too hard to hide it. You gave him a sympathetic smile, and he just sighed defeatedly. “Don’t kill him,” you half-joked, noticing the death glare he gave the figure approaching the two of you. 

Pulling away from you, he turned and walked over to John, you trailing behind him by a few steps. Gathering up the items you’d brought, you returned the rifle to its home over your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye, barely visible due to the lack of illumination, you saw Arthur’s hat lying in the grass, which had been knocked off his head by your hands. 

You put it atop your own, and you found it sliding around as you walked up to the two men, wrapping your arm around Arthur as you joined in the conversation, which was turning into more of an argument. 

“You’re needed back at camp,” you heard John say angrily, not even looking at you as he stared the other man down.

“And I’m sayin’ it can wait. I’m busy.”

“Oh, really?” John challenged. “Doin’ what?” 

Arthur just gave him a pointed look in response, expecting John to figure it out.

“No, really. What is so important right now?”

You could hear Arthur roll his eyes. “Maybe the wolves really did eat your brain, Marston.” You let out a chuckle at that, and John finally seemed to notice your existence. Confusion, then realization, then finally embarrassment washed over his face as he took in your disheveled state and Arthur’s hat on your head. 

John shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with you any longer. “Just… just get back quickly,” he muttered, leaving the two of you as quickly as possible. You heard him grumble something under his breath, before wrapping you into a tight hug, locking your arms to your body. His hat barely stayed on as you tried to look up at him, and you saw his eyes widen as he registered what you were wearing. 

“You’re makin’ it real hard to leave, ya know?”

“So are you.”

“Yeah…” he agreed, yet made no move to loosen his grip. 

Arthur held you for a few moments, the fire that had been growing during the last minutes subsiding to a small candle flame. As much as you both wanted to just continue, the duty to the camp and gang took priority, especially for Arthur. 

Wiggling out of his arms, you returned the hat to its owner, but the angle you placed it at caused it to cover his eyes. “C’mon, cowboy. Giddyap,” you teased, lightly smacking his backside while doing so. You started walking back to camp, following the direction John went

You had gotten a few feet away before Arthur began bounding towards you, causing you to break out in a sprint. Laughing wildly, you ran through the trees, the branches whizzing past your face as you ran towards camp, Arthur hot on your heels. 

Because you weren’t far from camp, it only took a minute or so before you ran in, panting in exhilaration. Running to your tent, you looked behind you, expecting Arthur to be right there. When you were met with empty air, you halted, dirt skidding up at the sudden stop. Looking around, you peered through the darkness, barely able to see anything in the evening light. 

You saw Javier, Bill, and Micah all sitting around a nearby campfire, mindlessly conversing while Javier strummed on his guitar. You saw Molly in her and Dutch’s tent, which was between yours and Arthur’s, getting ready to retire for the night. Abigail was with Jack, sitting with him on her lap while Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen sat around another fire, drinking and laughing with each other. But for the life of you, you couldn’t find Arthur.

Without warning, you found yourself pulled into a strong embrace, the smell of leather and gunpowder filling your senses as Arthur grabbed you. A startled noise left you, turning into laughter as you felt his place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Gotcha, princess.”

“You scared me! How’d you do that?”

He gave you another kiss on your cheek in apology. “I’ve got my ways.”

“Is that all the explanation I’m gonna get?”

Arthur paused for a moment, debating your words. “Yes.” When you just shook your head in amusement, he gave you one last kiss before letting go, albeit reluctantly, and he walked around so he was facing you.. “I’ve gotta go see what they want,” he huffed. And… I just wanna say I’m sorry for tonight. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Arthur.” You tried to reassure him, but he continued to frown slightly. Cupping his face with one palm, your thumb brushed the top of his cheekbone lightly, and you felt him relax under your touch. “I know you’ll make it up to me, eventually. Tonight, just come see me when you’re done. I’ve… It’s been hard sleeping without you.”

“Alright,” he conceded, kissing your hand before returning it to your side. “Go get ready. I’ll be back shortly.”

“You better not keep me waiting, Arthur Morgan,” you warned, backing into your tent slowly. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” he said with a wink, then turning and walking toward Dutch, who stood with his arms crossed, watching the whole interaction between you two. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Arthur would never hear the end of it from the other men and camp. As your tent flaps closed shut, you heard Dutch say something to Arthur, who grumbled something out in response. A hearty laugh from Dutch filled the camp, and you just knew that Arthur’s face was beet red right now.

Undressing quickly, and now only in a chemise, you sat atop the bed, you glanced around your tent. Your tent, which was slowly becoming Arthur and your’s tent, was still lit up by candlelight. Your shared bed (which was yours and Arthur’s cots pushed together) sat in the middle, with the same pelt operating as your flooring. Arthur had yet to fully “move in” with you, but most of his belongings, which wasn’t a lot, sat beside yours. You guessed that in a few weeks he’d be offering his tent to the other members of camp.

Picking up your copy of A Cristmas Carol, you began reading, trying to pass the time as quickly as possible. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

As much as you tried to stay up, the minutes turning to hours as you waited for Arthur to return, you ended up falling asleep, not even tucked into the bedsheets. Your book lay open if you lap, as it had fallen out of your grip.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you remember how the words on the page began to blur, and how it became so hard to focus on the narrative. Eventually, you succumbed, no longer fighting the growing heaviness on your eyelids. 

The bed shifting caused you to stir, groaning slightly as the kink in your neck made itself known, the awkward sleeping position causing your body to protest. You felt the blanket get pulled out from under your legs and wrapped around your body, then a warm body cuddling up next to you, arm resting on your midsection. Shuffling back until your back was flush with their front, you heard Arthur murmur out an apology for waking you. 

You adjusted so your head was now resting on your pillow, and you wove your fingers through Arthurs. “It’s alright,” your voice was heavy with sleep. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” his breath tickled your ear as he spoke. “Dutch wanted me and Lenny to go scout somethin’ out. Went longer than we thought.”

You let out a light hum, and a yawn threatened to overtake you as you spoke. “Tell me more in the mornin’. Get some sleep.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Arthur replied, nuzzling into your hair and sighing deeply. 

Sleep came back easily, and you found yourself being roused a few hours later by the smell of coffee and light chatter. You and Arthur had swapped positions in the night, and you woke with an arm across him and your legs intertwined. 

As carefully as possible you disentangled from him, halting all movement when you heard his breathing change. Eventually you were free, and you sat on the edge of the bed. Glancing behind, you saw Arthur still fast asleep, a light snore coming from the man. 

It was nice, seeing him so at ease. The normal furrow in his brow was smoothed over, the creases around his eyes seemed less prominent. Everything about him seemed softer somehow, like all the troubles in his life had been sucked out of his body while he slept. You just hoped that one day you might bring him that same peace in the conscious world. 

Stretching as you stood, you quickly got dressed, being careful not to make any loud noises. You wore something simple today, opting for a pair of pants and a shirt. Eying Arthur’s growing pile of belongings, you chose to wear one of his button ups. You smiled as you put it on; despite being freshly cleaned, it still smelled like him.

Tucking the blue shirt in, you left your tent after putting your boots on. The bright morning sun caused you to squint heavily, making your way to the communal coffee pot. If you had to guess, you’d say it was about nine or so in the morning, most of the camp up at this point. Saying good morning to those you passed, you poured two cups of coffee, the liquid precariously sloshing over the edge of the cups as you walked back to your tent, drinking yours while you walked. 

You were about halfway back when you spotted Lenny sitting at one of the tables, who kept anxiously looking up at your tent while cleaning his gun. He gave you a polite smile as you approached, which heavily contradicted the impatient way he tapped his foot. As you got closer, you saw how tired he looked, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Good morning, Lenny!” You greeted, trying your best to sound chipper. 

“G’morning, miss,” He tried his best to not sound annoyed, you could tell.

“Care to tell me why you’re glaring at my tent?” You teased.

Sheepishly, he dropped his gaze, the tapping of his foot slowly subsiding. “Sorry, miss. It’s just… I need Arthur up, and he’s in your tent, and I don’t wanna be improper and walk in there…”

Laughing loudly, you set one of the cups down on the table before patting him lightly on his shoulder. “You’re too good for us, kid. I’ll go get him up for you… if I get to come with you two, that is.”

“How’d you… you don’t even know what we’re doing.”

Shrugging, you took a sip of your drink. “I like surprises. So, do we have a deal? I’ll save you from having to walk into a lady’s tent, and then I get to tag along on whatever y’all are doing.”

“I guess,” Lenny sighed, but you could tell he wasn’t upset. He sounded more tired than anything.

With a final light tap on his shoulder, you picked up both drinks, taking another hearty sip from your own. “Thanks, Lenny.”

“Nah, thank you. From me and my dignity.”

His response had you rolling your eyes, shaking your head as you entered your tent. Excitement was growing in you, your desire to finally leave camp finally being fulfilled. Arthur was still passed out, and you felt bad for reaching down and shaking him gently. You watched his eyes flutter open, and you smiled warmly. 

“Good morning, pretty boy,” you brushed his hair back, and his eyes threatened to close again. He was barely awake, and you could tell because he had barely any reaction to what you called him. “Lenny’s waiting for you.”

That seemed to stir him, and he practically shot up out of bed, nearly causing you to spill both of your drinks. He cursed to himself, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes as he paced around the tent. He was still fully dressed from last night, the only things missing being his hat, shoes, and gunbelt, which you watched him grab and put on, turned partially away from you as he dressed. The furrow in his brow was back, and you also noticed the heavy dark circles under his eyes. 

Pressing the hot beverage into his hand, which he took with a soft thank you, you set you own on the nightstand before fixing the collar of his shirt which got all messed up during the night. “What time did you get back?” 

“Late,” he responded between gulps, either not noticing or caring that the liquid was scorching hot.

“Arthur…” you sighed. “You look exhausted.”

He just shrugged, neither agreeing with or denying your statement. “How long has it been since you’ve slept for more than four hours?” You’d always noticed how tired Arthur always was, pushed to his limits day in and day out, and this conversation wasn't new for either of you. Even before the two of you became lovers, you’d always hound him on his sleep, or lack of it. It was, however, the first time you’d asked him that question, and you could tell he was trying to come up with an answer or excuse. You found yourself coming up with a plan that would get you and Arthur away from camp, at least long enough to let him sleep for a while. 

“After we get done with whatever you and Lenny are doing, me and you are gonna take a little vacation. And you can’t say no.” You added that last bit when he opened his mouth to protest. 

As he woke up more, a confused look crossed his features as he comprehended what you said, and he turned towards you. “We?” 

“Yup. I’m going with y’all.”

“I don’t…” he trailed off with a sigh, realizing that arguing would be pointless. “Are you sure?” You nodded.  “Alright. We’ll fill you in on the details on the way there. Shouldn’t be too complicated.” He took a final gulp of his drink, and set the empty cup next to yours. “Also, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, princess. You focus on getting yourself back to normal.”

“But I am pretty much back to normal! And you’ve taken such good care of me these past few weeks, it’s time I return the favor.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Maybe I don’t. But I’m gonna do it anyway. I want to help you, to care for you. And like I already said, you can’t say no.” 

“You’re difficult, woman,” he shook his head, as if amused by your antics. “We’ll discuss this later. Don’t wanna make Lenny wait any longer.”

“Alright,” you accepted. “I’ll see you outside, love.”

Arthur actually short-circuited at the use of the new pet name, and you giggled as he stood there dumbfounded, and you left the tent before he could say anything. “Arthur’ll be right out, Lenny!” you shouted out, the man’s head snapping up as you spoke. 

Getting to his feet and slinging the very ocean repeater over his shoulder, Lenny gratefully smiled at you. “Thanks again, miss. Did he tell you anything or…?”

“Nothin’. Said you tell me on the way there, and that it ain’t supposed to be too difficult, apparently. Not that anything ever ends up that way,” the final part you muttered more to yourself, and it went unheard by the other. 

“You got a bandana? Gonna end up needin’ it. What we’re doing ain’t exactly lawful.”

“My favorite. Lemme go grab one-”

“I got it. Here,” you felt the cloth placed around your neck, Arthur securing it with a knot. “Go ahead and meet us by the horses, Lenny. We’ll be right there.”

With a nod, the younger gunslinger headed toward the hitching post. Adjusting your hair so that it sat over the bandana, Arthur then combed the stands back so that they were tucked behind your ears. “Is that my shirt?” He asked once Lenny was far enough away.

“You just noticed?” You chuckled, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Shut it, princess.”

“Never.” You stuck your tongue out at him, then started heading toward Lenny. “You don’t mind, right?”

“God, not at all. I’d give you all of ‘em if it meant I’d get to see you wear ‘em every day.”

“Then what’d you wear?”

“Nothing, but I suppose you’d like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you faced forward to hide your expression as you imagined a shirtless Arthur. “Hush now,” you feebly reprimanded.

“Never.”

By this time you had reached your destination, mounting your horse (after thanking Lenny for saddling him up) who knickered excitedly. Both of you hadn’t been out of camp in some time, and you both missed the feel of the wind in your hair and the exhilaration of the ride. You wanted nothing more than to just bolt out of camp, but you held steady, tapping your fingers to try and let out some of the building energy within you.

Arthur, after mounting, took the lead as your group exited camp. After saying goodbye to Javier, who was standing at the front of camp on watch, Arthur began explaining the plan, going at an easy trot as the three of you rode, looking over at you as he spoke. 

It was a home robbery, and a rather large one at that. Located east of Valentine, about a mile or so from Emerald ranch, stood a large multi-story house that was rumored to be filled with precious items and jewels. Lenny and Arthur’s scouting provided intel about the guards that patrolled the ground, getting their general numbers and learning the relative schedule they operated on. By learning that information, they were able to figure out when it was best to move in order to not be spotted. 

Originally, when it was just going to be two of them, only Arthur was going into the house itself, Lenny staying back on watch, ready to create a distraction that would allow Arthur to leave unnoticed. But now that you were tagging along, it was up to you to decide what you wanted to do: join Arthur, or send Lenny with him and be on watch yourself. 

“Well, saying the last time I was on guard duty didn’t go so great, I’ll go in with Arthur.” Your “joke” seemed to only amuse you, but then you saw the way Lenny tried to hide a light chuckle. 

When Arthur had finished explaining, you were still only about a quarter of the way there, the casual pace Arthur had set making your journey slow. You tried not to seem too fidgety, knowing that Arthur and Lenny were quite tired and probably wouldn’t like to go as fast as you’d like, but there were a few times when you had to slow down TT and ease him back; it seemed you were both getting antsy. 

Arthur, bless him, took notice of this, and he moved himself off the road to let you take the lead. Taking your spot, you cocked your head, trying your best to keep your eyes on him. “Go to Emerald Ranch. Wait for us there.”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to pull out all your hair. Go ‘head and ride out ahead of us, fast as you like… but be safe. We’ll meet you there.”

You’re sure you looked crazy with the excited grin on your face. “You’re serious?”

“Very. Now,” Arthur shooed you, “go.”

“I love you, Arthur Morgan,” you said, before taking off in a cloud of dust. It took little encouragement from you to get TT moving, snorting wildly as he pushed as hard as he could, happy to finally stretch his muscles out. With a loud whoop that bounced off the rocks and trees, you quickly rode away, Arthur and Lenny becoming small specks on the horizon. Arms outstretched and your eyes closed, you took in the feeling of the wind finally being back in your hair, trusting TT to take you to where you needed to go. 

You hadn’t even realized you were crying, the sheer happiness you were feeling overwhelming you. Yes, you loved being at camp, and you loved the people there, but you were starting to feel trapped. You knew that being put on a “bedrest” was for your health and to allow you to fully recover, but it was exhausting. You were still an outlaw at heart, and you needed to roam. You couldn’t be tied down to a place for so long, and a part of you knew that’s why you and Arthur became friends in the first place: two wild hearts that needed space to ride free, the only bonds holding you being the ones you held for each other in your hearts, not where you called “home” or where you lay your head at night. 

Opening your eyes again, the world around you passed in a blur as TT ran, hooves barely hitting the ground. As you passed other riders, you heard them cry out, startled, but you paid them no mind. Right now, you were allowed to be as selfish as you wanted on the road. You were barely able to make out a signpost that showed that you were going in the right direction. 

Patting his neck, you urged your horse onward, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him, just like the last time. However, instead of it being the ride between life and death, it was a ride of pure joy. Joy that you had survived and overcame so much. Joy that you finally confessed to Arthur the love you had for him, and that he felt the same, and you were now closer to him more than you ever thought possible. Joy that despite the honestly shitty cards you and the gang had been dealt, you were all still thriving, able to create bonds and relationships in spite of the hardships. 

Life, in all of its bullshit, was treating you well. You were going to enjoy it for as long as you could, and you were going to do everything in your power to bring Arthur the same joy you felt. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You arrived at Emerald Ranch nearly fifteen minutes before the other two.

Letting your horse drink heavily from one of the many troughs available, you walked around the area, chatting with a few of the farmhands as you waited for Lenny and Arthur to arrive. You had even traded some items with the fence, Seamus, for a little extra cash, in the middle of stuffing it into your saddlebag when you heard them approach. 

“You already robbed the place?” Lenny joked as you remounted, falling back to your original position in the formation. You were surprised, however, when Arthur didn’t take the lead, instead motioning for Lenny to lead the way as he took his spot next to you.

“Y’all were taking too long,” you chuckled. “Nah, just selling a few trinkets I had.”

“Get a good amount for ‘em?”

“Nothin’ crazy. But money’s money.”

“Take what you can get, I guess,” Lenny shrugged, falling into silence as he continued forward.

“How was your ride?” Arthur asked, finally speaking since meeting you at the ranch, which you had now left. 

“Amazing. It was… needed. Thank you, Arthur.” You beamed brightly.

“Of course. Can’t blame you for wantin’ to do that.” You watched him glance towards Lenny to see if he was paying attention before leaning over, as well as he could, to whisper to you. “And, for the record, I love you too.”

“I guess if we’re saying things for the record,” Lenny didn’t even bother to turn around as he interjected, “then you should know that this one turned bright red once you left. Didn’t think I’d ever see a man like him that flustered, but here we are.”

“Aw,” you cooed, flicking the rim of Arthur’s hat down as he was still leaning close to you. “Did I embarrass you, Arthur?”

“Am I really gettin’ ganged up on by both of y’all?” Arthur sat back upright now, scoffing in disbelief when you and Lenny both nodded. “I see how it is, then. Well, I’ll just leave you two to it…” Arthur sighed, a slight grin peeking up at the corners of his mouth. 

“No,” you dragged the word out, nearly falling out of your saddle as you reached to grab his reins. “I’m sorry,” you laughed. 

“I ain’t,” Lenny countered. 

“Remind me why I keep you around, kid?”

“Well, it ain’t up to you if I stay or go. And I distinctly remember you asking me to go with you on this.”

“And I am startin’ to regret my decision.”

“You can always change your mind. Want me to go get John? Or Sean?”

“I pick you, cause unlike them, you don’t annoy me. Which is slowly startin’ to change.”

You had held on to Arthur’s reins during this entire exchange, you head moving back and forth as they spoke. “What has gotten into both of you?” You couldn’t help laughing in surprise. 

Finally, Lenny looked at you. “Sorry, miss. Just… tired.”

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep when we get back. Both of you,” you made sure to look at Arthur when you said this. “I’ll talk to Dutch, see if I can’t get a break for the two of you. There are sure as hell others who can do this type of work, if only for a day.”

“That ain’t necessary-” you cut Lenny off with a raised brow. “Alright. Thanks, miss.”

“Of course. And don’t think I forgot about what I told you, Arthur.”

“No I didn’t.” He responded unenthusiastically. 

Wonderful. Now,” you finally let go of Arthur’s horse, “let’s go rob these sons of bitches.”

It took about twenty minutes for your group to reach your target, pulling off the trail and into a thicket as the house came into view. Dismounting and then sending the horses away, you stayed crouched behind Arthur as the two men made their way to the house, keeping to the dense underbrush, remaining undetected by the guards you saw. 

Arthur held a hand up, and you came to a halt, and he pulled out binoculars and a pocket watch. Quickly surveying the area, he then handed the binoculars to the other man before checking the time. “Right. Here’s the plan. You see them guards over there?” Arthur pointed to two of the guards that patrolled one of the side entrances to the house. “They rotate out every hour, meanin’ theres about a two minute window where there’s no one. That’s when we move. Inside, from what we can tell, isn’t heavily guarded, but be cautious. There shouldn’t be any homeowners or servants or anything like that either.”

 Arthur now pointed at the house. “Once we’re inside, you can take the top floor. When you’re done, meet where we entered. Lenny will give us twenty minutes, then he’ll create a ruckus, giving us an opportunity to leave. We’ll meet up at Emerald Ranch, then head back.” He took a deep breath. “Make sense?”

“Yeah. How long until the next rotation?”

“It’s 10:53, so about seven minutes. I’ll give you a heads up.”

Nodding, you settled back on to your haunches, adjusting the equipment on your body as you waited. “Are you fine with what you’re doing, Lenny?”

“Yes, miss. Ain’t my first time doing it. Arthur can vouch for me.”

“He'll be fine.”

Content, you sat in silence for the next couple minutes, staring off into space until someone pulling your hand had you refocusing back on reality. Arthur’s face was now covered by his bandana, but his eyes crinkled as he pulled you along, and he motioned for you to affix your own bandana. Securing the fabric, you relinked your hand with his, keeping crouched as the two of you approached the house, being mindful of any branches or twigs that you might step on that would alert the guard.

Just like Arthur had said, when the top of the hour rolled around, the two guards stationed at the side left, turning their backs to you as they moved to their new spots. Glancing both ways, he bolted for the side once he deemed it clear, holding on tight to you. The door, thank goodness, was unlocked, and the two of you slipped inside, seemingly unnoticed.

The first part, and arguably the hardest, was done. Glancing around, you took the large bag that Arthur handed you as you both took in as much as you could. You were standing, wll, crouching in a large walled in  dining area; a large oak table stood in the center adorned with expensive china and silverware; a tall china cabinet stood in the corner, various baubles hiding within the shelves; a large staircase was directly at your right, which you started to make your way towards, stopping when Arthur grabbed your hand. 

“Promise me, that if you get caught, you’ll get the hell out. Run. Don’t look back.” He spoke low to not alert anyone, but it made it no less emphatic. His words were surprisingly familiar; the last time he spoke like that was right before you got kidnapped.

“And my answer is still the same: I can’t promise anything, but for you I will try.” It was all you could say before you went back to trying to climb the staircase, time being a limited resource. You had seen the fear in Arthur’s eyes, and you could feel your own worry for him as well. Things were different now, and there was more on the line this time. But you couldn’t afford any anxieties; you had a job to do.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You had to commend yourself on a job well done, clearing the top floor quickly and efficiently. You bag was almost filled to the top, and you slung it over your shoulder, looking like some evil version of St. Nicholas. The house had no shortage of jewelry, gems, and other valuable items, and you doubted whoever owned them was going to be missing them for long. 

Shuffling slowly down the stairs so as to not make too much noise, and you sat on the bottom step as you waited for Arthur to finish, as you literally had no room to carry anything else. Making sure your bag was securely closed, you peeked through one of the windows that were parallel to the door you had entered. Two new guards stood watch, chatting with each other without a care in the world, not aware that two people were currently robbing the place of all its valuables. 

Arthur only took a few more minutes than you, bag equally as heavy as he plopped down next to you on the stairs. Pulling out the pocket watch, he read the time, before turning towards you to read. 

11:16. 

Sighing, you leaned back, the back of your head thumping against the hardwood flooring. You dared not speak, just in case, but you let your guard down slightly. There was no one in the house, just as Arthur had said. It seemed like this whole adventure was going to go off without a hitch, for once. 

Maybe you were too relaxed, because when you felt Arthur rest his hand on your thigh, you jumped out of your skin. It was hard to tell because of the mask, but you think he whispered an apology. As Arthur rubbed the muscles there, you felt yourself relaxing again, resting your head back and closing your eyes.

You weren’t expecting Arthur to slowly bring his touch further up your thigh, massaging as he went. Peeking at him, you found him already looking at you. He halted his exploration, raising his brow in silent questioning as he tested the waters. When you nodded, he didn’t continue, still giving you plenty of time to change your mind if you wanted. 

“Please,” you doubted he could even hear you, but he seemed to understand, continuing up your thigh at a slow pace. He shifted closer to you, the creak of the wood barely audible over your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Still holding eye contact with you, he continued his ascent, mere inches away from the junction of your thigh and hip. 

Instead of moving inward, however, you felt his touch disappear before reemerging on your other thigh, repeating the same process as he caressed you. You said nothing, only letting out small pleased sighs that were only audible to you. 

Finally reaching the apex of your thigh, his squeezing and massaging turned to featherlight touches, barely felt through the material of your pants. Running his fingers across your hips, he repeated the motion a few times, laughing when he heard you finally let out an audible noise, which was a frustrated huff. Like last time, he was so close to where you wanted him to touch you, but he remained so far. You knew that he wasn’t going to do anything here, in the middle of robbing a home of all things, but a part of you hoped that he would just throw all caution in the wind and take you right there.

As soon as the touches started, they left. Arthur leaned back, looking almost startled in a way, like he’d just been snapped out of a trance of sorts. “Shit… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease-”

Shouting from outside had his head snapping towards it, and you were immediately on your feet, peering outside the window with Arthur behind you. His proximity behind you wasn’t helping you calm down, but you forced it down. There would be time later to get him back for his teasing, but right now it was time to go. 

Lenny, back on his horse, had approached the house, standing far enough away to lead the guards away from the house. The two guards were only a few feet from Lenny now, and roughly twenty feet away from the house, giving you enough clearing to leave. They were engaged in a heated discussion, one of the guards training his gun on Lenny while the other did more of the talking. 

Both of you slung the bags over your shoulders, the metal items clunking as they were jostled around. Grabbing your hand, he led you out the front door, moving slowly to not create any too much noise. The argument with Lenny seemed to have the guards full attention, and loud enough to allow you guys to move faster. 

Before long, you were far enough away to safely whistle for your horse, who came running from a nearby bush. Both of you secured your bags to the horses, riding as far away from the house as you could and toward Emerald Ranch. Pulling the bandana off, the breeze did little to cool you down, the fire consuming you only able to be put out by one thing. The look in Arthur’s eyes as he rode away had you shifting in your saddle, but not because you were uncomfortable. You took off after him, and you took a steadying breath. 

It was going to be a long ride back.

[moustacherie]

Vehicles!

The Partisan! There's just something so appealing about a tank specifically built to maximize pouring lead downrange. Aircraft beware!

The Condor! I admit I wasn't even familiar with this one until I received it as a gift, but a speedy (8/12!) hovertank with an AC/5 and 2xMLs is... hard to argue with.

These two guys were my first foray into using a recently-popular wash mixture called "Marine Juice." It's Lahmian Medium, Reikland Fleshshade, and AP Dark Tone in 4:3:3 mixture, respectively. Lemme tell ya... it's the sauce.

Also, Team Yankee decals go really well on tanks. Who knew?

[xamiipholia]

let Aysenur Ezgi Eygi radicalize you

In 2019 I spent 94 days in the West Bank as part of a group of international volunteers. I wasn’t with ISM (the International Solidarity Movement) like Aysenur was, but I knew a bunch of their people well and worked with them. We had different parameters to work within - ISM was allowed to agitate to a greater capacity - we had (meager) UN funding and were tasked with checkpoint monitoring around schools whereas they were able to go wherever they felt was needed. They’re good, brave, people.

I’ve never been downrange from live IOF fire but I’ve been close. I’ve watched them open fire in residential areas. I’ve seen them torture kids in broad daylight. I’ve had snipers pass their sights over me. I’ve been tear gassed and stun-bombed, interrogated, and had a nice loooong chat with a TSA agent in a locked room after I got back to JFK. More than a few settlers have wished me bodily harm and they are FAR bolder than they ever were. What’s happening now is magnitudes worse than every horrific thing I saw.

I remember being afraid they would shoot me in the head. That some 18-year old jarhead absolutely brainrotted with Zionism would pull a trigger and erase everything that made me me in an instant. I know Aysenur feared that too. I got to come home. She never will.

I need you to be outraged by this. The takeaway is not that our lives are more valuable than Palestinians. They are not and will never be. But I need you to understand, especially my folks in more marginalized communities like me, that when the chips are down, the Democratic establishment does not give a fuck about you. They will let Israel murder “their people” and then give the IOF a pass to investigate and declare themselves not guilty. They will pay lip service to queer inclusivity so they can feel self-righteous at brunch but the *instant* we become politically inconvenient to their sense of civility and order, they will turn on us. If you feel the need to vote for them to stave off, at bare minimum, climate disaster- I get it. But these monsters are not your friends.

[oshlet]

Scorpion Gunship in old monarchist livery. The bright orange is eyecatching an impressive - effective when the Sond Royalty were the only real military on the planet. After a string of especially brutal defeats at the hands of system-11 mercenaries however, the monarchists realised they needed something more subdued.

Typical of many monarchist vehicles fielded before the revoloution, the Scorpion is visually impressive, but too big for its role and a monster when it comes to keeping it maintained. Its high points are obscene amounts of thrust and an impressive defensive profile thanks to the large PD laser in the droop-snoot and the thick armour covering the whole thing.

When they were able to get flying, scorpions were a real menace to S-11 mech columns, capable of punting devastating amounts of fire downrange while shrugging off glancing return fire. Their poor logistical profile greatly hampered their effectiveness however and simply weren't able to fly enough to be hugely relevant outside of psychological warfare.

[lonestarflight]

"The Apollo 11 Saturn V (CSM-107/LM-5/SA-506) climbs toward orbit after liftoff from Pad 39A at 9:32 a.m. EDT on July 16, 1969. In 2 1/2 minutes of powered flight, the S-IC booster lifts the vehicle to an altitude of about 39 miles some 55 miles downrange. This photo was taken with a 70mm telescopic camera mounted in an Air Force EC-135N plane. Onboard are astronauts Neil A. Armstrong, Michael Collins and Edwin E. Aldrin, Jr."

Date: July 16, 1969

NASA ID: KSC-69PC-0413, 6900556

[possumcollege]

Automated gunnery's made our sailors lazy as shit. Look at him down there. Useless swab doesn't even know how many cheese wheels it takes to send a party hat downrange anymore. "tHe GuN KnOWs, WhY sHouLD i hAve t0?"

PICK UP A BROOM OR SOMETHING FUCKSTICK.