#like trying to rein in a bunch of wild horses

[graveyardgremlins]

WIP:

“You have a bat themed computer?! This is somehow worse than my dad naming everything after our family.” “Wait, does he actually do that?” “Yeah, dude. We have the Fenton Bazooka, the Fenton Boo-merang, the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, the Fenton Phones, Fenton Rocket, Fenton Skateboard…” “Wait, wait. You own an assault vehicle? A rocket?” “What? You're saying it as if you don't.” “Yeah, but my… He is Batman. Not exactly the poster boy for sanity, you know?” “Well, look at the bright side! You don't have to feel awkward about it anymore. If anyone gets it, it's me.” Jason smiled, a bit dizzy, and guided him. Jason had never brought anyone to the cave before. It felt oddly heavy in his chest. He had to resist the urge to keep turning around to check on Danny. He felt a bit like Orpheus in a way.

[countrymusiclover]

25 - Governor John Dutton

Part 26

Country Rancher

Tags @whateverthecostner @rosie-posie08 @kaycejdutton @kayceduttonn @kcloveswrestling @the-morning-star-falls @kaymudd @artoldfartsandunicornhearts @princessviseyna

Eight Months Later

The twins are as wild as ever running around the ranch this morning. The morning when everything with change for my father in law, John Dutton. Walking down the stairs I could see Bree off helping Carter in the barn. Tate was off somewhere riding I suppose as I sat my cowgirl hat on my head getting in my truck and driving to where my husband said to meet him and the other livestock agents. Exiting the truck I smiled his direction seeing he already had a horse waiting for me. Climbing up on it the wind moved hair in front of my face. "Your father is getting the governor job today. Rip's got to mange the ranch for an entire party tonight. I don't think there's ever been this many possible people there."

"Yeah well I sure as heck never expected him to take the position to begin with...maybe a little but now it's...real." Kayce chuckled but I could hear the shock in his tone. If there was one type of person I never expected John to become it was governor. He only cares about what is best for the ranch. Meaning that he would destroy the possibility of an airport and more before it had even been a month I had no doubt about it.

Clicking my tongue and getting my horse to move we raced with the others to make sure the people trying to cross the boarded with stolen horses didn't get away. My horse turned to a stop as one guy tried to move around me. Yanking my reins the other way my horse got directly in the face of the bad guys horse where I could shove them back onto our side. Kayce caught one guy almost escaping on horse back until he roped him by the waist throwing him down into the water. He then jumped off cuffing him and sending him with our officers. "Man I gotta say I like starting my day like this. Riding horses and watching you rope, Kayc.." I smirked resting my chin in the palm of my hand.

"Oh you do...well who knows your cowboy might have something else up his sleeve later tonight." He flirted back climbing on his horse riding back to the truck but not before sending me a wink seeing me blushing a little.

Getting back to the ranch we got out of our truck seeing a bunch of people and tents already set up. Rushing inside the house we changed out of our work clothes and into something formal. Kayce in one of his button up shirts and jeans with his hat. Me in a simple orange dress and brown boots wearing a light brown cowgirl hat on my head. "I'll get us drinks. Be right back darlin'." He kisses my cheek as I caught sight of Ryan and the other cowboys playing around with ropes. Slowly walking over there was a girl trying to show like she wasn't watching them but I could tell she was.

"Which one of them is eyeing you. I work with them all. I can be a good judge." I smiled leaning my back against the fence seeing my sister in law Beth walking over to Rip who was watching the party from up on the hill.

The girl shakes her head in denial but failed. "I'm not gonna get with any of them. They can't be devoted to both you and a place like this..I'm Abby by the way."

She sticks out her hand that I shook. "Y/n Dutton, nice to meet you." Staring back at the boys I saw Ryan staring over our direction with a smile. "I think you should reconsider the whole not dating a cowboy thing. If you find a amazing one you'll be suprised." Kayce comes our way carrying two beers in his hands grinning which is something that doesn't happen often on this ranch.

"Well who would you suggest, him?" She pointed at my husband making me snort out a reply immediately.

"He's taken, honey." Pointing at Ryan with my index finger she followed where I was pointing. "Him...I dated him for a little while. Trust me he's good."

Kayce hands me my beer tipping his hat to Abby beside me offering me his arm for a dance. "Care to dance, darlin'?"

Sitting my beer on the ground alongside his I spun him on his toes dragging him onto the dance floor by the stage that had a live band. "I just hooked Ryan up with a girl. Look over there. That's her." His eyes shifted over watching Ryan playfully rope the girl in for a dance with his charm making me smile.

"Good for him. Now if only we could stop that from happening-" He scoffed lightly tilting his head in the direction of the barn allowing me to see Bree and Carter spinning the other around as the music played. He had gotten taller and our daughters hair had gotten longer. I knew it was a matter of time before we have to have the talk about periods and what not.

Kayce spins me out and back into his chest throwing my hair around. "Don't you worry cowboy. We've got awhile before the other two try and grow up on us." He intertwined our hands together again and our boots kicked up dust around.

"Where are the twins anyway-" He cuts himself off mid sentence when Elsa jumps up on his leg. I giggled twirling Dallas up in my arms seeing that they didn't mind almost wearing the same outfit.

Elsa hangs on her father's leg until he offers her to sit on his boots so he could dance around with her. Dallas and I do the same making my heart swoon at such enjoyment like this. A part of me thought we wouldn't get nights like this anymore. Spinning my son around I glanced through the crowd seeing John sitting at a table full of politicians. I could tell he was miserable it was clear on his face. But his slogan was for the ranch. "If you're watching this Evelyn. I hope we're doing it right." I mumbled to myself glancing up at the sunset in the horizon.

Exiting the barn the next morning Rip had assigned Carter to ride John's horse. Brew and I climbed on our saddles. Kayce was having our other kids help clean up from the party. "Cart you're missing something." She called out to him as he was running around in a panic making sure everything was good.

"What am I missing, Bree?" He asked halting in his tracks.

She giggled tipping her tan hat up to him where he smacked his forehead cursing as he got it from the barn finally climbing onto the horse. "Hat shit. Where's the hat!"

Kicking my horse in the belly I led the kids out following the others to see them moving the cattle. Bree and I worked pretty good together. Carter got one until his horse fell into a hole. Whipping my head around I raced over seeing his arm messed up. "Carter, you alright. What hurts?" My motherly instincts kicking in seeing him not being able to raise his arm.

"You need to keep one eye on the cow and the other on the ground." Rip orders seeing the horses legs didn't look too good.

Carter looks at Bree almost in tears as she pets her grandfather's horse. "Is the horse gonna be okay?" She shakes her head no seeing Rip reach for the rifle on his saddle.

"Rip, wait a second. That's John's horse. There must be something we can do.." I trailed off rising to my feet and securing his arm holding the shotgun.

He slumped his shoulders allowing me to see regret in his eyes. He hated having to kill a horse everyone knew that. "That leg won't heal, Y/n. We can't have him suffering." He gently pushed me aside with Bree pointing the weapon and killing the horse.

Closing my eyes I immediately replied towards my daughter. "Liyod, help him with the saddle. Bree take Carter back to the barn." She nodded helping him to his feet and the three of them removed the gear heading back towards the barn. Riding up to the house I dismounted my horse hearing the sound of a bark and four paws racing towards me. "Hey, Maxon. Hey boy." Running my fingers through the golden retrievers fur he wags his tail as Kayce walked down the stairs.

"Bree told me what happened. My father won't be happy he loved that horse." He replied removing his hat taking a seat on the front porch steps. Sitting down beside him I removed my hat resting it on my knees laying my head on his shoulder.

He draped his arm over my shoulder hearing me sigh heavily. "It was a good horse...I'm just glad the boy or our daughter didn't get hurt." He nodded kissing my forehead until we locked eyes. "It made me realize something today though, we need to teach these kids how to ride. When the twins are old enough that's when we start. Because when you're father's gone it's up to us Kayce."

"Don't you worry darlin'. Nobody is gonna take this place from our family. This is our home and we will fight for it." He whispered tilting my chin up so he could kiss me. Leaning into the kiss I prayed he was right. That the outsiders wouldn't get the land my children grow up on.

Season 5 has started!!!

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[its-deputy-caleb]

would u possibly do some NSFW morbell? where they're up in colter ( i loved ur original morbell post on them ) pls do more as i love ur blog 💛

this is an absolute mess oml i literally have no idea how to write anything smutty but here we go i guess. I love this pair but i kinda went off topic and centred this on a praise kink for micah. ANYWAY this is probably terrible since i'm melting, its literally 40 degrees and the aircon is broken so its unedited af and i wont look at it again until i have a cold drink. but pls enjoy some morbell <333

------------------------------------

‘Cold up in Colter’

Fuck, what a mess Blackwater had been. The Pinkertons were on them faster than ever and they found themselves fleeing from a blood bath.

That was almost three days ago and Micah hadn’t had an ounce of sleep. He’d been sent out with John to scout ahead, having found a homestead which ended up burning at the hand of O’Driscoll’s. Okay maybe house burning down was his fault but he tends to make stupid decisions when he’s had little to know sleep. And it was so fucking cold.

That didn’t stop heat rising to his face when he felt Arthur’s hands on his shoulder, pushing him back with a roughness he could only wish for in another way. Damn Arthur Morgan and his ability to have Micah curling in on himself and blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of a hand on his shoulder.

He should hate Arthur, really the two are nothing more than rivals, competing for the spot of Dutch Van Der Linde’s right hand. At the beginning, almost six months ago now, Micah couldn’t stand the sight of the man but somehow that anger tapered off into something more akin to admiration and that admiration slowly turned to desire.

He’ll never admit to how badly he wants Arthur but he won’t deny however that he’s pushed the man’s buttons more than once just to have an interaction with him. All he had to do start a silly argument over camp earnings or a bet at five finger fillet to have the man shaking him by the collar and threatening to break his nose.

It almost always ended with Micah sneaking off into the woods with half a bottle of whiskey and his pants bunched around his ankles as he thought of the way Arthur roughed him up by his shirt collar. Fuck he was pathetic sometimes.

There were other occasions where the two had actually managed to get along and that’s what pissed Micah off more than any threats of violence. Arthur just had to go and bring him a beer as he grabbed one for himself, letting their fingers touch accidentally. Or he went and offered him a seat by the fireplace where they ended up much to close for his comfort. Damn Arthur for always leaving him short of breath with a hole in his heart.

Despite what Micah did to impress Dutch, Arthur was still the camp’s favourite by a mile and he never failed to outcompete him in the eyes of the gang. Micah never minded much, not looking for anyone’s approval, but the thought of proving himself to Arthur, of being worthy of his praise is enough to have his wild side reined in.

Naturally that didn’t stop Micah from losing it from time to time and wasn’t surprised when his jealousy shot up again as Miss Grimshaw announced Arthur got his own cabin while he shared with the rest of the fellers. And he’d be damned if he had to share a room with Williamson who didn’t stop snoring.

That’s why he found himself huddled in the makeshift stables, choosing instead to wrap himself in his coat and down a bottle of whiskey to wait the night out. He cold planks he was sitting on offered little comfort and the draft in the room had his lip shaking. But at least he wouldn’t have anyone in his hair and he’d be left alone, just the way he liked it.

Of course that didn’t last long when the cranky wooden door was barged open, spooking some of the horses in the opposite end of the room. A broad figure entered the room, blocking most of the door way but that didn’t stop to whoosh of cold air flood into the room, draining even more colour from his face.

It wasn’t until the door was closed and the man stepped closer when he realised it was Arthur.

“Micah? What the hell are you doing in here?”

Arthur sounded surprised, with only a hint of concern in his voice.

“Sleepin’— what the hell ya doing here Morgan?”

There wasn’t much of a response from Arthur, only a quiet noise which was barely heard over the whistle of the wind between the planks. He walked over to the horses, checking over them and ensuring none of them were freezing to death. Micah watched in silence, scared to disturb the man as he patted along Taima’s neck.

It wasn’t until after Arthur had checked over all the horses did he turn his attention to Micah.

Micah watched as Arthur’s gloved hand extended out and offered itself to him, he hesitated before taking before taking it and being pulled to his feet. Arthur’s hand draped over his shoulder which he didn’t realise had shaking in an effort to keep warm, having drunk the remaining whiskey from the bottle.

“Common now, yer gonna freeze in here alone.”

Micah dug his heels into the ground, not allowing Arthur to pull him any further to the door as he tried to hold his voice steady. He’d be damned if he ever let Arthur know just how much he affected him.

“I ain’t sharing a bunk with Williams—“

Arthur tutted, pulling Micah out the door as he pushed him towards his cabin in the snow storm.

“Quit yer yapping, you’re sharing with me and I ain’t having any more folk die tonight. Now let’s go.”

Arthur didn’t utter another word until they were well and truely in his room, wrapped in a blanket that was barely big enough for the two of them. The bed wasn’t much bigger, having been made for one person which was evident by Arthur pressing against Micah’s back in efforts for them to fit. The only thing that kept them apart was the fabric of their jackets, otherwise Arthur would probably hear Micah’s heartbeat which was beating much to fast for his liking.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Micah cursed under his breath which caused his teeth to chatter and Arthur spoke up.

“Yer still cold, c'mere”

Micah’s breath fell short as Arthur’s hands slid under his coat, resting his hands on his tummy to use his body heat as a source of warmth. In doing so Arthur had moved even closer, ensuring Micah’s back was flush against his chest.

Despite that Micah wanted to protest, to go straight to his default of arguing he couldn’t help but feel as he began to warm up and he slowly relaxed under his hands.

A blush rose high on his cheeks as Arthur also relaxed into their embrace, accidentally letting his hands drift lower until he felt the hard press of Micah’s straining erection against his knuckle.

Micah instantly sucked in a breath, panicking and trying to push his way out of Arthur’s hold.

“Shit Arthur I—“

Micah froze as Arthur gently pulled him back to the bed and rubbed slow circles along his stomach.

“S’alright Micah, I’m not mad…”

Arthur held him close, letting him relax before talking again before he whispered right into the shell of his ear.

“…This what you want? Is this why you’re always staring at me from across camp, why yer always picking fights and asking me to robberies?”

A high pitched noise left Micah as he shivered, feeling Arthur’s hot breath against his ear. His blush deepened as he pushed back slightly into him, whimpering at the feel of Arthur’s own erection pressed against his ass.

Fuck it, he thought as heat pooled in his abdomen and he finally allowed himself to have the one thing he’d been craving for months. He nodded frantically, grinding back onto Arthur’s clothed dick and squirming in his grip.

“Relax boy, gonna give you everything you’ve been waiting for— just be good and you’ll get it”

Micah nodded in agreement, a needy, desperate sound leaving him at the promise of praise. He wanted, no needed to be praised by the man so badly that he’d do anything for an ounce of it from the man.

“Oh god Arthur! I need it, need you. Fuck I can be good I promise.”

He knew he was probably being too loud but apart of him didn’t have it in him to care. He moaned softly as Arthur moved him to roll onto his back, towering over him but ensuring they were still kept under the blanket.

Arthur spent the next ten minutes undressing him without exposing much of his skin to the cold. He unbuttoned the lower buttons of his leather jacket, enough for Arthur to work his fly down and pull one pant leg off. He whined pitifully, grabbing at the lapels of Arthur’s coat in a silent plea for him to undress him properly.

Micah mentally scolded himself at just how desperate he was for Arthur to rip his clothes off and fuck him like a bitch in heat but he knew that wasn’t happening any time soon. Arthur however caught on pretty quickly to what he wanted, it seemed the man knew just what made him tick.

“I know sweetheart, once we’re well and truly outta here I’ll get us a room and we can do this properly.”

Micah’s eyes beamed at the thought of Arthur taking him to a hotel in the future, panting as his mind raced with images of Morgan making him fall apart on his cock for hours on end.

While Micah was busy in his mind, Arthur took the opportunity to retrieve the gun oil from his satchel. It certainly wasn’t the best option but it was their only choice with their limited supplies.

Arthur draped himself back over Micah’s body, kissing at his jaw and nibbling as he coated his fingers. The air was cold, only making the oil feel colder as he slowly dipped his index finger past Micah’s rim.

A devilish grin came to Arthur’s face as he heard Micah sigh and take his finger easily, deciding to work his way up to two sooner than he was expecting.

“You’ve wanted this for a long time haven’t you? I saw you once, bout a week ago. Head down, ass up with three of yer fingers inside you while you cried out for me to fuck you. It all clicked in my head then when you started acting different around me at camp.”

Micah flushed a deep red, coughing on air as he realised Arthur knew about his little crush. He tried to think of an excuse, to weasel his way out of it but his thoughts died in his head when Arthur twisted his fingers, scissoring and stretching him open before adding a third.

Arthur dragged a lip along Micah’s cheek to his lip, ghosting his lips over his before kissing him properly. This time Micah didn’t even try to fight for dominance, opening his mouth instantly for Arthur’s tongue to enter. Instead he sighed into it, pulling his legs to wrap around his waist as his hands wrapped around his lover’s shoulder.

It went on like that until Arthur was satisfied that Micah was well prepped enough, simultaneously rubbing against Micah’s prostate while he kissed him deeply. He only pulled away to pull his own leaking member out, bunching his pants around his thighs so he had enough room to move but could stay warm. He coated the rest of the oil onto his member, jerking slowly as he stared down at the sight of Micah below him.

Micah looked like an absolute mess against the pillows already, his face was flush and the scarf around his head had unwrapped slightly, revealing his disheveled blond hair. His chest was heaving as he panted and his thighs shook from pleasure as the weakly wrapped around his waist.

“You look so pretty like this sweetheart”

To say that Micah hated the pet name was a lie, one that he didn’t try deny as he moaned softly. His back arched and he gripped Arthur’s coat tightly as he felt his cock slide between his cheeks and over his hole. He’s wanted this for so long now and yet somehow it still didn’t quite feel real as his mind was clouded with arousal.

Micah’s toes curled and he moaned when he felt Arthur push into him, slowly inching forward until he felt him bottom out.

“Ah— ah! Oh Arthur fuck! Please fuck me, I’ll be good I swear.”

Micah practically sobbed with pleasure as Arthur set up a fast pace, pulling almost all the way out till just the tip was left inside his tight hole before pushing back in quickly, brushing his prostate in the process. His cock twitched from where it rested against his tummy, pinned between Arthur’s jacket which caused a string of moans to fall from his mouth.

“Look at you, so good for me— fucking perfect Micah. Such a good boy”

Arthur’s hands came to hold onto Micah’s hips for leverage, pulling on his slight muffin top under the jacket to help pull him back to meet his thrusts. Beneath him he heard Micah whine and whimper at the praise so desperately needed to hear.

Micah bought a finger up to his mouth, biting on his knuckle to silence any more noises he deemed to be pathetic from slipping out of him. He hated how close he already was just from being praised by Arthur.

It seemed Arthur wasn’t having any of it when he pulled his finger away from his mouth before kissing him like he had done not that long ago. He swallowed every one of Micah’s noises, mindful of Dutch sleeping next door and slowing his thrusts to something deeper and slower.

His hands roamed all over Micah’s clothed body, breaking away for air and whispering praises down his ear.

“That’s it, make those pretty noises for me sweetheart.”

Micah eye’s rolled into his head as he cried out.

“You’re mine, all for me— my good boy.”

More moans slipped from his lips.

“Atta boy— taking me so well, so good.”

His back arched and he withered in his embrace

“So eager to please aren’t you? I’ll take care of you now boy.”

“—Arthur! I’m close— Ah, I’m gonna—“

“Go on sweetheart cum for me…that’s it good boy.”

Micah’s whole body when rigid as he finally came. His mouth hung open, tongue lolling out as his orgasm dragged out with each thrust Arthur delivered, eager to chase his own.

He collapsed into the pillow, thighs shaking as he whined at the oversensitivity. It didn’t last long before Arthur’s thrusts changed pace to something more erratic, picking up the pace as he spilled his load inside him.

Arthur groaned into his neck, pulling him close and collapsing into him as he regained his breath.

He pulled out slowly with a wet and obscene pop, sitting up and helping Micah put his clothes back on. Micah only weakly managed to fiddle with the button on his jacket while Arthur gently manhandled his jelly-like limbs to fit back into his pant leg. He used the blanket to wipe the cum off his tummy, a weak attempt at cleaning up and something they would both no doubt regret come tomorrow morning but for now they were keen to sleep after such a horrific and chaotic few days.

Arthur pulled Micah into their original position for the night, the only difference being that his face was now tucked into his chest. Arthur rested his chin of Micah’s head, littering his hair with kisses as he played with his hair between his rough fingers.

Micah was the first to fall asleep, curled up with his forehead against Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur wasn’t far behind him either, finally letting himself get some much needed rest but not before he pressed a soft kiss to his hairline.

[marvelous-space-nerd]

My dearest Bee

Hi dear tumblr people! I wrote a thing and I quite like it,,

Summary: Time travel, is, well something. Who would've thought that you would get stuck in the 1800's?? Well here you are, part of the Van der Linde gang, ready to face the past.

First chapter can be read as a stand alone chapter. It takes place a few years after Isaac died. The relationship between the reader and Arthur is platonic. Enjoy!!

ao3

My dearest Bee,

So I hope these letters- I can’t call them letters if they’re in a book right?- Anyways, I hope these will find you, I hope you’re home, safe. I hope you saw your dog again, I miss her. I have a horse now though! Maybe I’ll name her after you, or just wasp. If I remember correctly you weren’t the biggest fan of wasps. But really, I’m not sure if we timetraveld or were transported to another universe where everything just started like 100 years later, the latter case making it a whole lot harder for you to find this. I just really hope you’ll find this against all odds, because I said I’d write to you if I made it. And I did! I guess. After the whole thing blew up some cowboys found me, I think they call themselves the Van der Linde gang? But yeah, they feed me and gave me a bed for the small price of doing some chores. I’d like to do more though, did you know that the 1800’s are really boring even though you can die at any second? It’s spicy but in the wrong way. I’d like you to know though that it’s not all bad here. People are lovely when they’re not trying to shoot you. You should see a campfire evening- hell any evening- here.

Yours always,

(Y/N)

“(Y/N) get off your lazy ass and do the chores we asked you to do!”

“Mister Morgan! No need to yell, I got it perfectly under control. I was just, taking a break, that's all. Everyone who works all day has the right to take a break.”

“Boy as much as we want it workers are exploited ‘till they fall to the ground face first. You however are not so-” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes before speaking agian. Softer this time than the louder tone he was using first. “get to work, please.”

“Fine fine, but-”

“There better leave something good out of that big mouth of yours.”

“Hey that's just rude! But I want one of you lot to teach me anything. I can’t even ride a horse for Christ's sake.”

“I still don’t get how you can’t kiddo.”

“I told you I lost my memory at the explosion, maybe I lost my skills too.” You said avoiding his piercing gaze. Nothing is better at covering up lies than staring at rocks being sad over the skills you’ve lost.

“And we all know about that blatant lie.” Fuck, maybe rocks aren’t good at covering up.

“It isn’t-”

“Boy I don’t give a damn, you could work on your handwriting though, you’re almost worse than John. But fine, when you’re done with your chores I'll teach you to ride.” He said, finally giving in.

“Yay!” You said while doing little hand clapping motion. “I won’t disappoint, I promise. I’m a fast learner!” You said with smiling eyes

“And how’d you find out you were a fast learner boy?” He spoke out as he raised his eyebrows, just enough for you to feel them piercing right through you, poking at all the holes in your lie. You thought you’d last at least a few months, well here you are, exactly one month deep in this shithole being caught red handed.

“Fuck” Is all you managed to cram out while your eyes lost all their focus. You being back in your own mind instead of the wild world.

It made the silence hard. The only sound that of the other gang members and the birds and the bees to give you something to focus on. It’s so hard out here, no amount of scouts will ever prepare one for the real wild.vIt’s much scarier out here. The real wild is the place where you die if you trip over the wrong rock. The scouts will make sure the rock isn’t even there. Every bird will just put down another rock and god I want the silence broken, just as broken as my lie is.

“I know there’s probably a reason you’re not telling us anything.” Athur said, as he moved closer, his eyes smaller. Like they could see right in his head “You can’t hide forever, not who you are.”

“...”

“Use your words boy”

“I’m sorry, Mister Morgan, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You’ll figure it out, but first geT your ass back to woRK.” His voice became louder this time, I mean this was the third time he asked. He put his hand on your shoulder, shoving you away from your shared tent towards the hay bales you were supposed to move. A bit harder than anyone in the twenty-first century would’ve done, but for Arthur it was just a friendly push.

“I will, I will mister Morgan!” You said trying to act cheerful. Arthur made a “tsk” sound and waved you off, absolutely done, it seemed. You moved to the hay bales that were still in the wagon, ready to be fed to the horses.

The hay bales were heavy, yet they seemed lighter than they were a month ago. Your hands weren’t soft no more and being covered in dirt and dust wasn’t rare anymore. The luxuries that the modern world gave you disappeared the moment you decided that Bee was the one who should go home. One to run to the portal the moment it opens, one to pull the lever and jump through afterwards. Both of you knew that people don’t want you touching their stuff, let alone interdimensional portals or time machines. You knew someone would be quick to show up the moment you turned it on. It was surprising to see the portal become unstable, blinking in and out, in and out of existence. It left you with 2 choices. Option a: jump in it praying it would still transport you back home, back to all you knew not leaving you in the empty pocket of a closed portal. Or option b: run away for the inevitable explosion.

Gods you hated thinking about it. It played and twisted your mind. You couldn’t even talk about it, no accessible therapists in the wild west. And you’d prefer not to tell anyone you’re a helpless time traveler. Stuck in 1895 traveling with a gang of outlaws. A surely unique situation only you could get yourself in. You don’t even remember what you chose. You just remembered waking up surrounded by a bunch of cowboys.

“And how is our newest member doing?” The man's smooth and easy voice was easily recognizable. Dutch Van der Linde. Isn’t it ironic that he has a dutch surname and that his parents called him, well, Dutch. It’s a question that always on your mind, why his parents did that and if it’s iconic or just stupid. Dutch was one of the first people who introduced himself, right after Arthur- who was very inclined on being called Mister Morgan- and Hosea. The trio who showed you the wild west wasn’t all bad.

“Dutch! It is absolutely lovely to see you.” You said while putting the last hay bale down. A little bit of healthy sweat decorating your face. “I am doing absolutely great. Arthur- Mister Morgan is actually going to teach me how to ride a horse when I’m done.” You said while eyeing Arthur. Clearly not being amused with the situation. “Eh, he said yes, it’s his problem now.”

“I’m surprised you got through that thick skull of his!” He said with a smile, each word a little louder than the last. He clapped his hand on your shoulder as he let out a little chuckle.

“I think he likes me even though he won’t admit it actually.” You lied, confidence was half of the battle, as they say.

“I think I don’t you annoying little bastard.” Arthur said, joining the conversation. Dutch clearly talks loud enough to make sure any gossip subject will show up to the gossip. Definitely not the fact that you made eye contact with him “Now get to your horse before I change my mind.”

“Arthur! Oh shit- Mister Morgan! I’ll be there before they can even give me a speeding ticket” You said, maybe it was a bit too modern this time, but isn’t the wild west about living on the edge?

“You speak a strange version of english boy.” Arthur said. “You know how to saddle up a horse right?”

“Hosea taught me so I could help around with chores. And Wasp already had a saddle when we found her so I’m all good to go Mister Morgan!”

“Great, now go get her saddled up so we can go.” He said, motioning towards the horses.

“See you in a flash.” You said while snapping your fingers, forming finger guns to point back to Arthur. You dismissed the look of confusion on their faces, clearly not used to the finger gun motion. You walked off to Wasp and gave her a little pet and a snack. As you were putting her saddle on you overheard the rest of the conversation between Arthur and Dutch.

“We can both see you have a soft spot for the boy, Arthur.” Dutch said with a chuckle.

“And we both know youngins have great hearing and that he’s spying on our little conversation.” Arthur said in response, eyeing you. You kept saddling Wasp up as if you heard nothing. Let the deaf chicken inside of you arise and all. Hoping they’d say more.

“I know Arthur, I know.” Dutch said with a chuckle. About to walk away. “Oh before you go, he’s a kid Arthur, don’t be too hard on him and be carefull.” You didn’t think you were a kid, maybe not a full grown adult, but at least you were half an adult, no kid. But you weren’t going to say anything, you were eavesdropping after all. “He’s all yours, (Y/N)!” He yelled at you, before leaving for real. You turned around and gave him a smile and a quick wave. Arthur walked

“Take her by the reins, we're walking to an open spot first.”

“Shoar '' You said, absolutely trying to mimic the western accent you hear all around here. Apparently it was just bad enough to make Arthur chuckle.

“We’ll make a cowboy outta ya yet.”

Traveling in the wild was absolutely amazing for the most part. Abandoned camps are in fact disgusting. They leave their trash! And it’s not like they cleaned their cans so it smells. But besides that the mostly untouched nature was beautiful and the air was so clean. It all felt much more, how to put it, real. No factories everywhere, no house on every corner of the street, just, the world how mother nature intended it. It was peaceful. There was an open field about ten minutes walking from camp, and that’s where you arrived. Reins in hand.

“You ready to go (Y/N)?” Arthur asked. You put your hand on your hips looking at your horse with abosute pride and stupidity because how to fuck were you going to do this?

“Absolutely.” You said. “Remind me how do I get on again?”

The words were taken by the wind as they made room for silence. Arthur’s expression could be described as a mix between surprise, disbelief and the OhMyGodAreYouStupid emotion. Yet it all quickly made room for a smile, or a laugh. He could definitely be laughing at you.

“I didn’t expect to need to teach an 18 year old how to get on a damn horse.”

There was no fire behind the words, but as they say, fight (fake) fire with (fake) fire.

“And I didn’t expect to end up here for the life of so I did not think horse riding would be a viable skill to know. So get your pretty ass in the saddle so I can.. mimic you or something.” You said making a hand gesture at Arthur’s horse.

He gave you one more smile as he turned to his horse, getting on slower than usual. He got on on the right side of his horse so he put his right foot in the styrup. He lifted his body up effortlessly and as elegant as a western outlaw could get. And there he was, in the saddle, in full western glory.

“Looks easy enough.” You said, an absolute lie as it turned out. The stirrups were way higher than expected, and the getting on could be called anything but elegant or the cool western movies you saw. Turns out your own body is heavy and there’s quite a lot on a horse to get stuck behind. But you ended up in the saddle, full western glory.

The rest of the riding lesson went about the same. Arthur did something really cool looking and whenever you did it it felt like you were some old slime blob.

“Squeeze your lower legs to get her to move, (Y/N)!”

“I am this horse is just broken- OHMYGOD SHe’s moving!”

“Never blame the horse for the rider's lack of skill, boy. Now steering.”

He explained it all to you. How to properly hold the reins and how to use them, how to do it with one hand and how to do it with two. Western and English style he called it. He taught you how to move your horse around and what not to do. The one and most important thing being to have no doubts and no fear. The horse will sense it.

It felt odd at first, to have control over another living being. It wasn’t easy no, Arthur had to tell you how to correct your posture every 5 minutes. But after a while of correcting everything you started to get confident. It started getting easier to steer. Every muscle of yours was getting tired but it was so worth it. Maybe one day you’ll look like an actual movie star.

Once you got the basics down you could go a bit harder. From a walk to a trot, a canter and even a little gallop. And as the wind brushed over your face blowing your hair away, it felt like something the 21st century didn’t have a lot of. Galloping through the grass hearing every step as more and more grass was thrown into the air. Arthur still giving you instructions on what to watch out for, riding by your side in case of emergency. And the horse, Wasp, god she deserved a cooler name. Her big strong muscles moving beneath you, her breath as she was running, the heat radiating from her skin, gods it felt so great. No modern bike or car could ever top this feeling of freedom.

Cars and bikes could however top the feeling of falling off. You lost control quite a few times, losing balance, a rearing horse throwing you right where you belong. But nothing modern could beat that feeling of getting on again. Of it working when you tried it for a second time. Hell, maybe the third time. Arthur was there to make sure you were okay, and you could have another go. And another. And just one more for good measure. Lying on the ground trying to see if this time you did break something wasn’t a strange thing after today. Hell it happened at least every hour. But determining it as fine and getting on again, it felt like a lot.

You didn’t even realize it was getting late until the sky started turning orange. The normally so bright sun started becoming more yellow and stopped burning at your eyes. Instead it just seemed pretty. The clouds became yellow just like the sun, and the sky turned a bit darker with every passing minute. Yellow and orange were happy colours, maybe this was an good omen, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t think you’d die somewhere in a ditch. Bee would be proud to see you haven’t given up. You knew that for once.

“Time isn’t a real thing Mister Morgan, I swear.” You said looking at the sunset.

“Call me Arthur.” Said Arthur Morgan, though guy in the west in dire need of respect. Arthur “You call me mister Morgan boy” Morgan.

“Wait, did someone hide weed somewhere because this must be a hallucination! Can I really call you Arthur?”

“Wouldn't have said it otherwise boy.” He hissed, the mister Morgan just wouldn't leave Arthur.

“Well, Arthur, thank you. I’m happy I only have to say half the syllables now.”

“Shoar thing. Now let’s go back to camp before they send out a search party to see if you haven’t broken anything today.” He said jokingly

“I would never! I am obviously the best horse rider in the entire United states!” You said sarcastically, if you fake confidence long enough, it might become real.

Arthur laughed at that. “Well see about that boy. Now let’s go, we should be there soon considering you can ride now.”

“Of course, good plan. I can show off my skills now!”

“Shoar, go ahead boy. Don’t make your entrance too dramatic.”

“I will, I absolutely will. Oh and Arthur?”

“Hm?” He said, quite relaxed actually.

“Thank you, for everything today. I’m happy you let me bother you today.” You said with a proud smile.

“You’re welcome boy. Bother me all you want, we ain’t getting rid of you just yet.” He said as he ruffled your hair a bit. “Now let’s go home, I’m realll hungry.”

You absolutely couldn’t hide the smile on your face. “Hell yeah, I’m starving.” You said as you kicked the stirrups making Wasp move, you rode to camp in the beautiful orange sky. Maybe he did actually care about you, just a little.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[xthefandomequestrianx]

Netflix is seriously killing it with the tv shows lately. I mean, come on. Most of them are diverse with many people of different races, beliefs, and sexualities. They have super compelling plots and character arcs and awesome soundtracks. I didn’t expect for all my favorite shows/movies to be Netflix originals but here we are. Here are some of my favorites, along with some thoughts: (absolutely feel free to scroll past this - I dont know why I was so possessed to make this)

- Stranger Things -

The absolute BEST thing about Stranger Things is Steve Harrington, but there are a lot of other great aspects to the show. It’s one of those great shows that really keeps you on your toes, but still has quiet moments and LOTS of character development, which I am a total sucker for. 

- A Series of Unfortunate Events -

This is also a really good show, but I think the reason I like it the most is because of the dark academia vibes that is present through a lot of it. The tone is more aimed towards kids, but I still enjoy it.

- Free Rein -

I’m a sucker for this show. Yeah, it’s not the BEST show on the list, or in general. But I the part of me that’s an equestrian loves it even if some of the horsemanship is bleh. I also have a crush on Gabby? If you want something slightly cringey but light-hearted with a healthy dose of horses, then I recommend this show.

- Greenhouse Academy -

Full honesty: I hate this show. I hate these characters, and the plots, and all the weirdness. It is very cringy. Everyone pictured above is an idiot. But still I binge watch every. season. I don’t know what this sorcery is, but it makes the list simply because despite my hatred, I can’t get enough. 10/10 for the black magic used.

- Chilling Adventures of Sabrina -

It is a bit Riverdale-y, which can be good or bad depending on who you’re talking to. But the storylines are much better and the spoopy vibes are fantastic.

- THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY -

This is my all-time favorite show. I could watch it over and over and over (and I have). It is a cinematic masterpiece. All of the 7 members are relatable and beautiful and really awesome with their respective superpowers (yes, Luther too - he just has a different way of dealing with his trauma. Klaus has drugs, and Luther has being a whiny dipshit with some anger issues). But anyways, this is a FANTASTIC show and I’m going to call in sick when season 2 comes out so I can BINGE.

- The Society -

Want to see a bunch of gen z’s try to form their own society? Yes, you do. There is feelings! There is democracy! There is ~murder~! What more could you want from a show? I have so many cinnamon rolls from this show.

- The Witcher -

The range of this show, I swear. You have a lovable bard singing catchy tunes and cracking jokes, you have a grumpy/smelly/dirty man who just wants to do his job in peace, you have a badass mage obsessed with power, you have a horse who might just have the most braincells of any of them... It’s fantastic.

- Spinning Out -

It was a great show! Very dark. Super dark. But great! I’m sad that it got cancelled :( But the first season is definitely worth a watch. This show is seriously underrated.

- OUTER BANKS -

This show absolutely deserves all of the hype it’s getting! I’m so happy that people are loving it, because I love it and I NEED more seasons!!! It kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time, and I really felt for each of the characters (with some exceptions, of course).

- One Day At A Time -

Probably my favorite sitcom! It’s really funny and also dealt with many important issues that a lot of other sitcoms are too nervous to cover. I wish there were more seasons!

- Daybreak -

It’s certainly a strange show. But there are some good characters, especially including my trash baby, Eli Cardashyan. The plot is also cool. You really have to watch past the first episode to get into it, and then it’s a wild ride.

- I Am Not Okay With This

This is a goood show. Sophia Lillis and Wyatt Olef? A fantastic duo. I can’t wait to see more of all of these characters!

- 6 Underground 

This is very much an action movie. Don’t believe me? The car chase is 16 MINUTES LONG. Yes, I timed it. But somehow, in the midst of all the action, they spared time for lots of feels and character development and a beautiful found family dynamic. This isn’t the type of movie that I usually like, but I watched this one several times.

- Anne With An E

There are literal BILLBOARDS for the renewal of this show. That should tell you enough. Ryan Reynolds himself wants this show renewed.

Your takeaway from this list should be two things: Netflix originals are great and I watch too much tv.

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 15

full disclosure.

A full investigation into the 104th Scout Regimen begins. Are there more titans among them? Friend or foe? (AO3)

Words: 1,885

It had been a few days since you started cooking in the kitchen and handling the stables. Armin was kind enough to reintroduce himself and teach you the ins and outs of stable work to make sure you did a good job keeping everything up to code.

“Thank you, Armin. You didn’t have to do this for me.” You say sheepishly. He was generous, curious, and asked a lot of questions about your memories. You told him everything you could recall and he seemed to heave a sigh of relief at that.

“No, it’s my pleasure. But I’ll be honest I really wanted to ask you a lot of questions and I– I just needed the time and-–”

“You don’t have to explain. The more people who understand me the better I suppose. But I really can’t remember much else. Sometimes my body remembers things that my mind can't...”

With that you told the story about the time you had such a high fever and Hange needed to stick you with a syringe. You don’t remember why you were so afraid but your body had such a visceral reaction you’re sure it has something important to do with your past. You just need more pieces to fit into the puzzle that is your mind. Armin made a thoughtful sound before turning to his horse and petting her snout.

“I’m sorry about before, a long time ago in the canteen? So much happened just before you came here... with Annie. A-and I just wanted to trust that this was all some wild coincidence and not that you were...”

“It’s okay Armin. Truthfully, I know nothing about that other than what I was told just a few days ago by your other friends. I’m sorry that happened though.” You said with a sad looking smile.

“I trust you now. Eren, he was quick to trust you so all I need to do is convince Mikasa. The one with the shiny black hair? She’s so protective it’ll take some time.” He said, a weary look in his eyes but a determined shine to them all the while.

“Thank you, Armin. I’m glad you trust me. I’m having fun here despite it all, haha . I got the rest from here, don’t stress too much over me.” You said, and with a wave you shooed the blonde off.

After another half hour or so shoveling hay, you figured it was about time to go ask Levi to survey your work. You dusted off your clothes the best you could, and used a handkerchief to clean off your face before heading inside. As you got closer to his office door you heard hushed voices inside. Levi, Hange, Miche, and a fourth voice you didn’t recognize. A woman taking the lead in the conversation.

“We can’t wait any long, Captain. We already put this investigation off long enough.” She said, sounding stern. You heard Levi sigh before there was a lapse of tense silence.

“Tch... Damnit I guess not. I’d hoped my leg would be fully healed before we got back to this.” He complained. His leg? What's wrong with his leg?

“You’re right Nanaba. Given the Y/N situation, the other titan thing slipped my mind completely.” Hange whined, before perking back up almost immediately.

“Welp! Let’s go kill two birds with one stone!” Hange said before you heard heavy footfalls heading towards the office door. You blanched; how suspicious would it look for you to just be standing outside the doorway? Quickly, you dashed back behind the corner before you took a steadying breath to walk back out into the hallway just after they leave the office. Now it’ll only look like a coincidence that you’re all here at Levi’s door.

“Oh! Y/N! Good timing!” Hange complimented while you chuckled awkwardly. Nanaba’s eyes narrowed at you before mumbling something under her breath to Miche. Levi finally stepped into the hallway, his hand resting over his thigh before he looked over to you.

“Hey, those stables better be perfect since you’re here.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest intimidatingly.

“Y-yes! That’s why I’m here to come ask you to look.” You turned on your heel to head back outside hoping for him to follow but he stopped you before you could take another step.

“Don’t bother. Just go get a bath already. I’m sure they’re fine if you look that shitty.” He snorted, eyes looking you over. The number of mysterious stains littering your clothes made him scowl in disgust.

“Get her some new clothes already.” He ordered Hange, and with that you were off to the bath.

...

“Hange... I can ask you just about anything right?” You asked with a stutter. Hange could tell you were feeling nervous for whatever reason so they immediately went into comfort mode.

“Yup, just about anything. What’s up?” Hange asked lightheartedly, they’re chocolatey brown eyes softening at you. You thought about the renewed hustle and bustle of the base, the half of the scouts getting into uniform while another bunch, the one you were most acquainted with seemed just as confused as you.

“If I’m allowed to know... what’s going on today?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs as you lay in the bath. Behind the partition, Hange clenched their fists in defeat. They sighed lowly before speaking.

“I heard you know about the Annie thing. So, I shouldn’t tell you but I trust you completely, and believe it or not Levi doesn’t see you as a threat anymore either. But, ahem ! We suspect Leonhart had accomplices. We’ve been suspecting it since before you got here but, perfectly timed you pop up and took all of our attention!” Hange laughed, but it was strained you could tell. They cleared their throat once more before continuing.

“So today, we’re moving the 104 th  Cadet Corps to an outpost to weed out any titans in the regimen. You’re going too so– Hop outta that bath soon!” Your mouth hung open as the sound of the washroom door opening and shutting with a thud resounded through the room.

“ What?! ” Anxiety brewed in your gut, but you quickly did as you were told. You hopped out of the bath and dried yourself off, getting dressed in the new set of clothes Hange set out. A white blouse with grey slacks, and your everyday brown laced up boots. Lazily you dried your hair and rushed out of the washroom, only to crash into Miche’s broad chest. You stumbled back and stuttered out an apology, but he waved it off. He stood to the side and introduced you to Nanaba.

“Oh, hello.” You reply awkwardly. Nanaba eyed you over before she spoke authoritatively.

“You got a last name?” She asked flatly. An embarrassed blush warmed your cheeks, and your eyes darted off to the side, looking anywhere but her eyes.

“I don’t remember. I don’t even know if Y/N was my name before– So... no.” You mumbled, hands absentmindedly wringing the edges of your blouse. Nanaba cocked her head to the side at your response before she sighed and relaxed her shoulders.

“Let’s go then, Y/N.” Her voice was softer now, almost empathetic. You followed her obediently down the hall and out to where the rest of the scouts stood. A crowd of unfamiliar faces but six stood out among the rest. Sasha, Connie, Bertholdt, Reiner, Ymir, and Christa. Quickly, you rushed to stand by Sasha and Connie before giving an awkward wave to Bertholdt and Reiner, who smiled back. Their eyes lingering on you just a beat long enough to make things awkward on your end. You snapped your eyes away from them to wave a sheepish hello to Christa who gladly waved back and Ymir, who only sneered at you. You frowned before turning your head away as Miche and Nanaba led the group out to the stables for everyone to collect their horse.

You stood around awkwardly before looking to Miche for help.

“I don’t have a horse...” You said, his brows perking up at your voice coming from behind him.

“Levi said take his.” You nodded before trotting over to his horse in the back, beautiful as ever. Clumsily you took the reins in your hand, leading the horse out of the stables following everyone else's lead. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, saddling up their steed and getting ready to hop on. Unknown to you, Levi was surveying you from his office window. The way you floundered just trying to position the saddle the right way on his horse. He had half a mind to go out there and do it for you, but he stopped himself.

“Good horsey. Just help me out a little bit alright, you know me?” You whined. The saddle was on but it didn’t look half as sturdy as everybody else but you couldn’t linger on the though since it looked like you were one of the last people on their horse. You puffed out your cheeks before releasing a calming breath and sitting your foot in the stirrup.

“Alright. This is easy, one... two.. three-– EEP!” As you swung your other leg over the horse your world flipped upside down, you were right. Your saddle wasn’t secured at all and it was too late to help yourself as your head came crashing back down onto the ground. Sasha, Connie and Ymir did little to stifle their thunderous laughter. The hay stuck to your swollen cheek, the single pained tear beading in your eye, the headache that was cooking up in your skull. You gave a pained hiss before, pouting at the way Levi’s stallion snickered at you. Levi chuckled at your clumsiness from his window before taking a sip from his tea cup and continuing to watch you.

“Even you’re laughing at me.” You stood before dusting yourself off. Miche came to your aid to check on you.

“Miche, I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to ride a horse to begin with...”

“It’s fine. Just––” He looked around in thought, scratching at his chin but before he could continue Nanaba was riding up on her horse to give you instructions.

“Just pair up with someone and ride their horse. We don’t have time.” She ordered. Miche kindly took the reins from your hands and led Levi’s horse back into the stables while you looked around for a friend to ride with.

You were about to ask Sasha before Reiner led his horse in your path and held out his hand.

“Come on! You’re safe with me.” He said with a smug smile, Bertholdt was burning holes in the back of Reiner’s head with his wide eyes stare but you paid no mind to it.

“Ah... Okay. Thank you, Reiner.” Timidly, you took his hand and without a second thought, Reiner’s brute strength was pulling you onto the back of his horse. Back in his office, Levi clicked his tongue disapprovingly before heading out with Hange back to the Wall.

“That brat...” He grumbled, his eyes narrowing in suspicion .

“Hang on.” Reiner said as you wrapped your arms around his middle. With everybody good to go, the 104 th  Scout Regimen head out towards the outpost with Miche and Nanaba in the lead to conduct their investigation.

[spidermilkshake]

“Link’s Bad Horsemanship”

XD This is half critique of the development of... er, pretty much all of the Legend of Zelda series featuring horse-riding, and half a goof. It's very very apparent that people working in Nintendo on various horse-riding animations, the riding game mechanics, and how the horses get used or behave in-game in general... are either blatantly bad equestrians, or not equestrians at all, and are getting their visual references and information from such sources as cheesy old Western movies (which featured outright horse abuse very often, usually in ways that were and remain kind of normalized) and the jockey club, which makes money off of callously abusive horse-keeping practices. So it's either ignorance out of thinking they're doing it right, or ignorance outright! And, since the majority of people have never worked with horses at all or know their physical limitations or history of abusive practices--generally people playing the games will not at all notice how hilariously bad some of the horsemanship turns out in the games. XD

But, having researched horses and proper horsemanship, and knowing what constitutes animal abuse... WOW does this series have a lot of Fridge Horror for an equestrian. By far, Majora's Mask is the most outright abusive in its treatment of horse, and probably completely by accident, simply by having Link ride Epona when she's a developing filly, which is absolutely going to either ruin her spine and halve her lifespan, or cause her to have fucked-up knees and much more easily slip and break her legs. You never ride a horse under a minimum of 2.5 years old for these reasons, and never ride a horse if you weight any more than 20% of their body weight (or under 20% including the combined weight of your saddle and tack). MM, when I was researching how the horsemanship is shown in each game, was the only game that made me reflexively gasp and cringe at how bad it was! I mean, I know MM is supposed to be darker, but GEEZ, maybe accidentally including the fact that Link is slowly and unknowingly killing his horse isn't the way, guys. <_<; Breath of the Wild actually comes in second place, purely for it's accidentally horrible "horse-taming" mechanic (which is definitely NOT how you actually tame a wild horse, it's how you intimidate and exhaust one into submission and give it mental trauma and also possibly get yourself killed). Also the fact that, because of increased graphical fidelity, there is now no question that Hyrule ubiquitously uses the nastiness that is the bit in riding, which are tools designed specifically to cause at least discomfort inside a horse's mouth to make them obey (and most types also coerce the horse through pain, and when too much pressure is applied have a very high risk of actually damaging a horse's teeth and gums, and even panicking a horse out of pain and fear and causing them to throw you, trip, or even over-rear and flip themselves over). Thankfully, they have done away with the idea that you smack a horse to get it to go faster for the most part minus the implication of a crop being used in the icons measuring the horse's stamina (though there's still the stupid whipping the reins thing in Link's animation, which is still a tooth-dryer when you realize the pressure of those reins are connected to the metal stuck in his steed's mouth... that's got to be awful for the horse when that leather slaps around wildly). Also, a more minor thing, most of the decorative tack for the horses, especially Epona's fancy breastpiece thing, are, uh, apparently not padded and have thin straps and big metal buckles up on her sensitive hide... That's going to chafe in about ten minutes of riding. There is a reason girth straps and saddles have saddlepads and girth padding secured under them! Twilight Princess is eh... it's not great. It's the only game besides BoTW with bits, and the only one which shows Ganondorf doing bad horsemanship things (which appears to have been done in total ignorance for the purposes of making the scene look "cool", which always turns out making the scene hilariously bad for anyone watching who knows horse body language). Most of the bad parts of TP are more implications than outright confirmed mechanics or just obvious. There's the implication that spurs are used on the horses in the speeding-up mechanic (spurs are yet another rather questionable equestrian tool. They are sharp things attacked to the rider's heels which jab the horse's sensitive flank. They absolutely have the potential to wound horses, even when used "lightly". Some types of spurs look damn psychotic, but they're all pretty harsh things to push or hit an animal with). There's still the issue of lacking padding under most of the tack. There's also the very alarming implication that Link overworks or mistreats Epona by pushing her hard to do dangerous things, as shown in dialogue with Ilia if you show up and Epona has taken any damage. It's... iffy, but it's not as bad and the aforementioned two. Overall, Ocarina of Time actually has the best horsemanship. It's still not perfect--and it's mostly down to how Link is shown interacting with Epona when he's grown. XD Oops. Now, the good point of equestrianism shown in OoT is that Epona and Link (and Malon's) relationship is shown to be founded on trust. It's a little gamified due to the whole "magic song" thing, but the fact that the horse wants to be near you because the horse chose to and likes you is so significant when all the other games either show you already having a captive Epona or having you physically force horses to tolerate you before any actual "bonding" (i.e. lovebombing with treats) happens (ick). Also, this is the game which shows Link doing a bunch of things wrong but yet shows Ganondorf being actually very skilled and not forceful when it comes to horsemanship. XD Another oops. You wouldn't believe how many minutes were wasted rewinding that cutscene to confirm that yes, Ganon is managing his reins properly with soft hands, yes, Ganon is able to compensate for surprise rearing without harming his horse and helping rebalance the horse instead, yes, Ganon is using extensive padding and protective gear for his horse and riding expertly enough that he's preserving the horse's back health... and Link is not. XD It's like... in trying to make him all tall and scary, and Link all plucky and active, they accidentally made the "bad guy" do big good and the "good guy" do big doofus. >u<; And now, there is horse abuse present in-universe, but it's presented as such. I won't have any issue with that because it's on the part of Ingo, and it's supposed to make you know it's bad. Ingo uses a crop to whip the horse he rides in races, which, I mean, I shouldn't have to tell anyone that taking a stick with a leather strap on it and whacking a captive animal with it to make it do something is baaaaad. My only problem of OoT is regarding hitting horses being normalized, and this lies with Link.. because for some dumb reason, whoever animated Link riding Epona decided that whenever he makes Epona speed up, he should look like he's open-hand slapping Epona on the haunch, or at least threatening to hit her. This is equally as bad as what Ingo's doing. You don't hit horses, and you don't threaten to hit them to make them too scared to defy you. They feel pain (horses actually have thinner skin and about three to four times the nerve endings in the skin as humans!). It's wrong, and from a pragmatic perspective you don't do it anyway. Eventually even the calmest, most timid horse will reach a breaking point, and enough abuse will cause them to either flip you off and run you over from fear, or just outright bite and kick the shit out of you in self-defense. It's big no. So here's Ganondorf, apparently Best Equestrian in the Series, just... giving Link the gears about his horsemanship skills. Throwing all the shade in the land of Hyrule. XD Poor Link--he's mostly just ignorant and gotten used to the wrong things (and who knows, maybe he did just ape on Ingo and learn wrongly) and he's just... havin' a hard time relearning how to ride. At least Epona likes him enough that she'll let him start to know better. At least in OoT, he hasn't got as far to go!

[ikesenhell]

An Ode to Someone I Once Knew

You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine on my page under the Masterlists! NOTES: Wow, let me just whip up some angst real quick for yall. Sorry that I’m constantly doing our boy Shingen dirty. Somehow, everything I write for him I honestly love. 

This is one part fix-it for his route (because I feel like he was shortchanged SO HARD by his route, let’s be honest, I think he deserved better) and another part just blatantly attempting to hurt you all. Sorry? TW Angst, TW major character death. 

---

Once, when her staying was less voluntary and more ‘voluntold’, she’d started on a poem. The pen in her purse was still good. From time to time, she dripped water into the ink just to make sure it stayed liquid; writing with a brush was still too difficult. The tiny notebook that used to hold grocery lists was now a therapist. 

A seasoned poet, she was not. That was fine. No one would read it. It was just whatever felt right, mostly stream of consciousness: the bone deep fear Kenshin inspired, the agonizing loneliness, the uncertainty and helplessness of living in a world so removed from your own. It distracted from the ever-evolving timeframe of ‘homeward bound’. 

More or less everyone had their own segment. Yukimura’s was short (the good thing about him was he was so clear cut that anything she wrote was the same); Sasuke’s, warm and friendly; Yoshimoto’s, elegant and difficult to pin down. 

Speaking of difficult to pin down…

Even after the first month (and being kidnapped by his own people, and constantly visited, and negotiating boundary after boundary after fractional boundary with him), she couldn’t figure Shingen out. She assumed at first that the one among them most like the moon would be Yoshimoto. Oh, no. That was Shingen. He wore a thousand masks, each like a crescent or a waxing or a waning or a half moon, and even when he seemed most unobscured she wasn’t certain she had the whole picture. It was like viewing a man from a thousand miles away; she, earthbound, and he, out there in the heavens, visible but blurry all the same. She half-started on a poem, stopped, stared out into the dark, and absently titled it An Ode to Someone I Once Knew before a single sentence was fully formed.

No doubt she would only get perspective on him once she was safely home. 

---

Another Full Moon for him: more clarity she couldn’t quite take at its face. She wandered across the stables and discovered him inside, holding the reins of a wild-eyed stallion and delivering calm instructions to a stressed-out Yukimura. 

“You shouldn’t be handling him,” Yuki scolded, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I can do it.”

“I have it.” Shingen’s voice betrayed nothing; the horse reared powerfully and he snapped around, wrapped the rope around his hand, forced it back into place. “Do you think I haven’t done this a thousand times?”

Yuki opened his mouth to say something, spotted her, and closed it again. “Oi, Boar Woman. You should stay back.”

“I planned on it.” 

“Goddess,” Shingen called smoothly, a grin sliding onto his lips. There it was; that lunar mask, constantly shifting. “Good morning.”

“Focus on the horse! Hells!” The younger man gripped at his own hair like it might help. 

“It’s fine.” And Shingen finally turned back to focus on the animal. Sure hands slid up the rope, coming ever closer to its muzzle. It bucked and jerked and she could see the veins in his shoulder stand out, but he didn't budge. “Yuki, I need you to step back.”

“But--”

“Yukimura.”

That was a command if ever she’d heard one; and she never had, not from him. Yukimura stepped obediently backward, shoulder to shoulder with her, furling and unfurling his hands for a measure of control. Shingen straightened up (was he slouching all this time? He looked seven feet tall now), wound another handful of rope into his grasp, and came hand to nose with the stallion. 

“Hush, now.” He breathed, and lay his fingers on its nose. His other hand waved a slow path near its eyes. “I’m right here. You can see me. You can smell me. I won’t hurt you.”

“Does he know what he’s doing?” She whispered to Yuki. Yuki, even rocking back and forth between his feet from stress, huffed a laugh. 

“Yeah. He’s an expert. Watch.”

The horse didn't rear. It huffed, tried to back into the wall. Shingen coaxed it forward from the stall and into the sunlight, turning it around and around in the paddock. Those frightened eyes softened, blinked, its head lowered, and finally the strained walk turned into a peaceful, slow gait. Shingen smiled and pet its nose thoughtfully. 

There it was. The briefest moment of a full moon, the clarity of a telescope, the breathlessness of walking on its surface and glimpsing it in true color. He looked more honest stroking the stallion’s mane than she’d ever seen before; a man at home in his own galaxy and unobscured by clouds. 

“Told you,” he laughed, and flashed Yukimura a charming, boyish grin.

“I didn't doubt you could do it,” he snapped back. “Just…”

And it was gone. The men fell silent, the weight of something they didn't trust to her hanging between them. 

---

Kenshin, in time, grew used enough to her presence to leverage her when he was bored. She learned the pattern of his unease: first he picked a fight with Shingen, then Yoshimoto, then Sasuke, and when inevitably both Sasuke and Yukimura excused themselves on some nonsense errand or another, he at last turned to her. The first five times, he made her drink with him, or waxed poetic about his sword. 

This time he took her to the armory. Row upon row of naginata and polearms and spears and swords rest in their racks, polished to a fine edge. The instruments of war made her nauseous. Still, Kenshin looked so content and pleased that she didn't say that. She picked politely around the rows and asked questions, focused on learning as much as she could from the God of War himself. It was an opportunity few could boast. 

“And what about that one?” She pointed to the largest of the bunch. Maybe in Europe it passed as a claymore. It was a monstrous blade in a beautiful crimson sheath, wrapped in golden ties and balanced in its own rack. Kenshin eyed it. 

“That would be Shingen’s.”

“That thing is massive.”

“He’s very big.” Kenshin wrinkled his nose with distaste. All at once she remembered the legend that he’d had to have his own swords shortened--and noticed at the same time that he was barely taller than her. She hadn’t thought to mentally gauge the gap in their heights before now. “And dramatic.”

Dramatic? Coming from Kenshin? She laughed and managed to disguise it as a cough when he cast a curious glance her way. “I guess.”

Kenshin nodded slowly at the sword--as if it might tell him something, as if it had something to glean from that artistic sheath. He seemed tense, pensive, and she almost asked why--but the best students learned from what their teachers saw, right? So she followed his gaze once more, fully soaking in the sight until it unsettled her. 

---

“You’re the kind of man that brings everything onto his shoulders, aren’t you?”

Shingen blinked. She almost patted herself on the back. For the last month, he’d visited her near-nightly in her chambers, constantly talking in circles around her questions and gathering whatever he thought he needed from her (god only knew what that was). She’d never seen him caught off guard before. It felt very much like Christine ripping the mask from the Phantom of the Opera, though she was less certain what she saw underneath. He schooled his expression. 

“Why do you ask?”

Valuable opportunities like this didn't come along often with him. She mulled over her words, inspected the shaft of moonlight lancing along the floor. He wore new sandals with crimson trim, his legs folded perfectly under his kimono, the broad plane of his chest rakishly visible. His heart beat faster than most. She’d noticed that a while ago. His pulse was visible in his collarbone, but only when he turned ever so slightly and bared it further. 

“Your sword,” she said at last. “It’s like you.”

He lifted a brow, mouth still a pensive line. She half-expected him to summon a deflecting smile and was surprised when he didn't. “How so?”

People don’t pick the biggest blade for no reason. You could manipulate a shorter katana faster. You already have reach. You’re trying to keep people away, but you’re strong, so why? She dug her fingers into the crook of her knees, frustrated, reaching for the sentences she felt and couldn’t match words to, struggling to bring that visible moon into focus and stay there. 

“It just…” She sighed. “I don’t know how to phrase it. Would you just answer the question?”

No grin appeared. He just stared, his eyes searching hers, and for the first time he looked lost. 

“I suppose any good daimyo does,” Shingen finally answered, diplomatic as ever. “If you really care about your people, you do everything you can for them--even if it takes blood, sweat, tears, and your whole heart.”

The picture remained blurry. She wanted to groan with frustration and shake him, demand answers to a question she didn't know. But that was all she could get. It had to be enough for now. Reluctantly, she stared out into the night sky, at all of the stars she never saw in the 21st century. 

“Why do you ask?” Shingen pressed. The same tête-à-tête, back to haunt her. “It’s such a specific question. I’m curious, my goddess.”

He hadn’t stopped looking at her. Why? It was exhausting, the back-and-forth; it made her wonder why she’d named the poem about him (that she hadn’t even started to write) An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. Why did her heart insist that was the right title? She didn't even know him. 

“Because,” she said softly, too tired of the fight to keep at it, “Sometimes I feel like I see you. Not the front you put up; something honest. Something real. Something that made Yuki want to follow you and your friends love you, not the…” And she waved a hand in front of her face, “the mask you do.”

Shingen inhaled quietly. She could feel his presence at her shoulder, like he shifted her tides with the gravity he commanded. “Why would you want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know you? Don’t you come in here every night? Why shouldn’t I at least want to...” Goddamn words! She sighed. “Don’t you want people to know who you are?”

He could’ve referenced their bet, the one where he would make her smile. He could’ve made some oblique reference to trying to bed her, or slipped from the conversation with the same easy grace he wielded as effortlessly as that massive sword. And yet--yet he just reached out and took her hand. She flinched. 

“Sorry.” Shingen squeezed her fingers, the gentle pressure easing her shock. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“You’re okay.” She allowed, noticing that the hammer of her heart matched the beat of his own pulse. “Why did you do that?”

Finally he granted her a smile. It was nothing like his usual. This one was sad, bittersweet, sincere. It was the look of a man who’d made up his mind, and for once, she remembered that he wasn’t a planet at all, not an asteroid, not anything in the solar system, just flesh and blood and bone and breath. The distance between them was not thousands of miles, but scant inches, inches that could be crossed. So she did. She scooted herself over to his hip. Shingen blinked with surprise. 

“Careful,” she tittered despite herself. “If you keep looking shocked by the things I do, I’ll start getting a big head and think I’m clever.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I dunno, am I, mister ‘I have a super cool spy network and am notoriously smart’ man?”

Laughter rumbled in his throat. She dragged the hand that held hers into her lap, leaned her head against his shoulder, listened to his arrhythmic pulse. Solid warmth caressed her hair. 

“Your heartbeat is off.”

Shingen paused entirely too long. “Is it?”

“Mhm.” She tapped out the pattern on the floor with her free hand. “It sounds like that.”

“Odd,” he remarked, and she knew he already knew.

---

He asked her to come to the stables the next day, and when she arrived, he was already saddling up a sweet black mare. 

“Morning, Goddess.” Shingen grinned at her, all of his vulnerability erased in the light of day. “Do you know how to ride?”

“Not at all.”

“Not at all?”

The urge to say ‘horses are for rich people’ bubbled into her throat, but she bit it back. “Where I’m from, most people don’t have horses.”

“What a pity.” He guided the horse from the stall. Wait--weren’t the Takeda known for their cavalry? It made sense now. “Come on. Let me show you how.”

She accepted his boost into the saddle, his hands steady around her waist and the motion effortless. As soon as she went to swing her other leg over, Shingen cast her a bemused stare. “You’re wearing a kimono, Princess.”

“So…” Wrinkling her nose, she wriggled into a more comfortable position. “So I have to ride side-saddle, huh?”

“As princesses do.” Shingen shot her a smile, and for once the title didn't sound condescending. It felt like he meant it. “But you’ll be alright. There’s nothing you’ll have to do that you can’t do that way, and I assume if it became a matter of life or death, the state of your clothes will matter less--and that you’d quickly discover how to handle it. Come on.”

He guided her out into the courtyard, the sunlight beating down on the back of his neck and his shoulders, his hands firm around the reigns. Unbidden, she considered that he wasn’t teaching her how to ride for practicality. 

“Shingen?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sharing something with me?”

He looked back, sincere and open, his expression unguarded and handsome and regal, and answered, “You wanted to know who I am.”

In great moments of your life, it is impossible to pinpoint them at the time, bookmark them and commit them to perfect memory. It was only in retrospect she realized this was when she truly, completely, and utterly fell. 

---

They were headed to war, and she knew it. Kasugayama was a hive of activity. Shingen was largely absent from their nightly visits in the days leading up, the space in front of her screen empty and lonesome. She missed the tempo of his heartbeat. She missed the familiar rhythms of his voice. 

God, she missed him. 

She sat in front of the half-moon with her pen poised, the page of her notebook open to the poem she knew would write itself about him, wordless and quiet. Her soul sat still under the night canopy. She only half-knew him, really, and what she’d seen so far--

When he arrived at her room the next morning, a smile on his lips, her heart beat harder than ever before. 

“Care to come out with me?”

“Where to?”

“Just a ride out. Nothing special. I simply thought you might want a brief outing before I leave for battle.”

They saddled up and headed down the city streets, out into the cool day. Echigo was mountainous, snow capped peaks in the distance wreathed in fog and vanishing into clouds. Wind stole away her breath. Sunlight warmed her fingers and face, a gentle reprieve. Around the twisting pathways they went, wild formation of rock and sky their only company until they reached a small lake. 

“Here.” Shingen dismounted easily, offering a hand to her. “Let’s rest a while.”

She stripped off her geta and tabi socks, ignoring the laughter in his eyes, hitched up the edge of her kimono, and stepped into the still waters. It was freezing. Even so she wriggled her toes, relishing the feeling. Shingen sat heavily on the bank. 

“Having fun, Princess?”

“I like water,” she announced simply. “I don’t know why. Always have. I used to live near the coast and I would go to the ocean all times of the year, even in the dead of winter, and walk through the surf. It calms me.”

“I wish I’d known that. I would’ve brought you out here sooner.”

She straightened up and offered a hand to him. “You could join me.”

A thousand thoughts marched across his features before they calmed again. “Ah, I’ll have to pass, unfortunately. Thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

For all the progress they’d made with each other, there was still something between them. Shingen fell silent, his gaze sliding upward to the sky, his picture-perfect posture a shield between himself and her questions. With a sigh, she waved it off. “Nevermind.”

“I…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s bothering you.”

“You have secrets, you don’t have to tell me.” Almost as soon as she said that, she walked it back with, “Health problems, right?”

Shingen stared. “Yes.”

“Is it some kind of heart thing?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Okay.” Sloshing free from the water, she shook out her toes and flopped onto the grass beside him. “Something that messes with your pulse, at least.”

A pause. “Yes.”

Whatever it was felt obvious, but she still couldn’t pinpoint it. Frowning, she instructed, “Take a deep breath for me.”

“I can’t.”

“Just one, plea--”

Oh.

She halted mid-sentence, his impassive expression confirmation. Uncertainly, she scooted closer, her hand pressing to his chest. There it was. She could feel the staccato rise and fall under her fingers.

“It’s that bad?” She asked, her voice softer than she meant.

Shingen wrapped his hand around hers. “Bad enough. But I manage.”

An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. The title of the poem meant for him came back to her. It was like the muse knew well before she did, like it was the eulogy to a funeral not far off. If war or disease or famine didn't take him, his own body would, and faster than all the others. All the air in her lungs yearned to fill his.

No amount of breath filled the void of space, did it?

Shingen checked her chin lightly with his hand. “Don’t look so sad. I get that expression from Yuki enough for this lifetime.”

“There’s nothing to be done?” She asked. 

After an eternity of silence, he responded, “No.”

There it was.The horse master himself wasn’t holding the reigns, and he knew it. Everything swam into perfect clarity. No wonder she’d barely known him. What was the point in it when you’d just leave them behind? He was already halfway around the bend, a smile on his face and the wind in his hair, and there was never any promise he’d still be there when she caught up…

Her knuckles were white. She realized that now; she’d clenched hard into the silk of his shirt, his hand still wrapped over top, eyes trained on hers. Bitterly, she spat, “This really isn’t fair.”

Shingen chuckled dryly. “What isn’t fair about it to you?”

“That I just now get to--” Goddamnit, now was not the time to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut. “That I just now--I’m just getting to really know you, and I like what I’ve seen, and--”

He wasn’t rock and sky and space; he was flesh and bone and blood and so very little breath after all, only inches separating them, and then there was no separation at all. His hand was the gentlest pillow on the back of her head, her hand on his chest still cushioned in his, the mouth that teased and danced and infuriated her in equal measure over the weeks now on hers. The universe was an unfair place; his lips were so, so gentle and warm. Shingen drew away and she followed, chasing his breath with hers. 

“Come back here and kiss me more,” she hissed, and he laughed. 

“I am here,” he answered tenderly, and for once she believed him. 

---

She never said she loved him. He never said it either; it hung between them like a wedding veil, never to be lifted, the final vows never spoken. But oh, he made sure she knew it. Her body memorized the sharp edge of his hips against the underside of her thigh, how one of his hands so easily gripped both of hers, how he worshipped her so slowly and silently and steadily. The closest they ever came to saying it aloud was the night before battle, wrapped together in his tent under a mountain of warm blankets to stay the cold. He took her hand and pressed it to his heart. 

“All for you and Kai,” he said, and it took all of her composure not to burst into tears.

By the end of the week, victory and Kai was theirs. 

By the end of the month, he was dead. 

---

Tsutsujigasaki fell silent. Who else could fill it but Shingen? She sat in the courtyard hugging her knees at night, watching the moon play over her toes and wondering why it waxed and waned without him beside her. Yukimura and Yoshimoto filled the role of daimyo in the aching gulf. It was so often just the three of them in the mornings, both of them silent and heavy with unshed tears. 

“You know,” Yuki started on one of those days, clearing his throat to get the grit from it, “You probably could help me with some of this stuff.”

Coming from Yuki, it sounded like an insult. She knew better by now. He was asking for help. She shrugged. “I don’t know most of the ins and outs like you do, much less Kai.”

“You’ll learn it.” He answered.

“Besides, the trick to Kai is simple,” Yoshimoto joined in quietly, his voice swallowed in the high ceilings. “It’s just Shingen.”

He was right. Even as she busied herself learning its streets, the hardworking people and their humble buildings, she saw Shingen reflected. The wind was his lungs, the town his heart, Tsutsujigasaki his sheltering arms. More and more of the governing work came her way; she buried herself in documents and correspondence and treaties and reconstruction and economic efforts. Kai even shared his generous spirit. The more she gave of herself to them, the more the people gave back to her. Word apparently spread quickly; they began to refer to her as the Lady Takeda. 

“You should take the role,” Yoshimoto said one day.

“What?”

Sometimes it hurt to meet his gaze. Yoshimoto looked almost nothing like his cousin--except for those eyes. They had the same earthy eyes, bright and warm and all-seeing, charming and cunning and disarming. Now she buried herself there. It felt like the only part of Shingen she had left. 

“The role of the Lady Takeda,” he answered smoothly. “You’d do beautifully.”

“But…” She hesitated, words stuck in her throat, and looked helplessly at Yuki. The other man shrugged. 

“I have Shinano,” Yuki pointed out. “I mean, my older brother kinda has it, but…” The unspoken lingered. No doubt he wanted to go home. It was all Shingen wanted, too. 

“I’d be here to support you with administrative work,” Yoshimoto offered. “If you would have the Imagawa, that is. I would be happy to support the Lady Takeda.”

“Wouldn’t,” she stuttered over her words, grasping for thoughts that knew the right words and didn't want to speak them aloud, “I would--Shingen would’ve had to marry me. I’m not the Lady Takeda.”

Yuki and Yoshimoto exchanged glances. 

“Pretty sure he would’ve,” Yuki looked embarrassed. “Pretty sure he would’ve. In my book, you pretty much are.”

---

The ink in her pen was dry. 

That was alright. She’d grown used to writing with a brush by now; enough documents passed over her desk that she’d worked it out. That, and Yoshimoto was more than happy to educate her (and wax poetic) on the finer points of calligraphy. She spent countless nights bent over a desk made for Shingen’s height that she couldn’t bring herself to replace, going to sleep under the pile of blankets from their last night together under the watchful light of the moon. Even years on, she could still smell him on the fabric. 

Kai flourished again. She grew to love it the way she imagined Shingen had; the rumble of hoofbeats echoing in her heart, the fall turning her whole world into shades of orange and maroon and gold and crimson. He existed everywhere then. When the wind tornadoed the leaves around her, she swore that was his spirit reminding her he was still there. 

She found her old notebook many years later, the dried out pen still stuck in that page she’d never finished. An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. Tracing the words with her thumb, she settled in front of her open screen, the full moon overhead spilling like a lantern onto a fresh page. 

Mixing the ink the way Yoshimoto taught her, she pulled out a fresh leaf of paper and started on a new poem. At the top, she wrote: An Ode to Someone I Will Always Love.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Could you do 5: “ Why do you hate me? ” with Arthur and his crush because I live to suffer

Oh my God, how many weeks ago were these requests sent in? Well, here it is! For once, it turned out shorter than I imagined! 

Request sheet here

Read all my works here on AO3

You finish cleaning the last of the laundry for the day. It’s nearly sunset and the tips of your fingers have been rubbed raw from the washboard, but you ignore the slight burn. Your hands have been getting tougher the last few weeks, calluses developing on your once soft skin. Your entire body is growing firmer living here with this wild bunch. 

You’ve been with the gang just a little over a month now and your life couldn’t be more different. You spent most of your life with your parents until they both died years ago in a drowning accident near the banks of Blackwater. Since you weren’t quite an adult yet, you were sent to live with your uncle. He was a pastor for the local church, but he was as far from Godly as he could be. 

For the next few years, your life with your uncle was horrible. Your uncle, despite his preaching to be good, clean people, he constantly got drunk and beat you. There were a few times he even touched you inappropriately, and when you tried fighting back he’d beat you even harder. He dragged you to church every Sunday and you’d have to sit through his sermons and hear the hypocrisy spill from his mouth. How you hated hearing him tell everyone else to be kind and patient, to give charitably, to avoid excessive drinking and to be as much like Christ as they could be. How dare he say those things when he was doing such terrible things to you behind closed doors? 

When you got to be older, you tried many times to leave, to run away, but he seemed to have a sense of when you’d try and break out. It got to the point he started chaining you to your bed at night, and sometimes left you there for days, bringing you just enough food to stay alive. When people mentioned your absence, he’d wave them off by saying you were visiting a cousin and would return shortly. He also brushed away any visible marks he left on you by stating you were a wild child, falling from horses and running through the brush, but that he wouldn’t try to curb your active nature. 

Finally it all got to be too much, the beatings, the rape, the lies. The hungry nights chained to a bed. One night at the table, he started getting drunk and you could see the telling signs he was preparing to attack you. You armed yourself with a large knife and when he rushed you, you shoved it into his throat and killed him. It was only a day or two before people discovered him, but you’d already fled town. Everyone knew it was you and you heard rumors they wanted to hang you for killing the preacher. 

A week after killing your uncle, you were in desperate need of help as you knew nothing of living outdoors and on your own. You had no food or any kind of shelter. All you had was your horse and a few sparse supplies. You didn’t even have a gun. 

You went to Blackwater, where no one was looking for you. You became a street beggar, but with little success, so you started pick-pocketing people when you could risk it. One day, you picked the pocket of a tall man with black hair and a thick mustache. He caught on quick and dragged you down an alleyway where he was met by another man, thin and grey-haired. 

You thought these two men would shoot you, and for a moment they seemed to think they might. Then they surprised you by suggesting you come with them, join their gang of outlaws. You took their offering. 

Not long after you joined, the Blackwater heist fell apart, forcing you and everyone else to flee and leaving a couple of the others scattered or dead. A young girl close to your age named Jenny was killed and another man named Mac was shot. He died on the way to a frozen town named Colter. 

Now, here in Horseshoe Overlook, you and the others are settling in. You’ve become quite close with most of the others. You work with the other three girls, Karen, Mary-Beth and Tilly. They welcomed you with curiosity and friendship. They helped teach you how to survive in this gang, how to pull your weight to keep an old crone named Grimshaw from getting after you. 

When you first arrived, you were horribly afraid of a man named Swanson as he was a drunken reverend. It didn’t take long though to realize that he was completely harmless and he never showed interest in attacking anyone. In fact, he was more prone to hurt himself instead of any of the others. He was a man of God who’d just fallen on hard times. 

You get along with pretty much everyone, and most of them seem to like you. Or at least they’ve accepted you. There is one exception though: a man named Arthur Morgan doesn’t seem to like you at all. He’s pretty much ignored you this whole time and he only spoke with you once when you first arrived. He did nothing but ask your name and your story and when you finished telling him, he wandered off and said nothing more. 

A few times, Dutch and Hosea, the patriarchs of the gang, have suggested to the other girls that you go with them and learn how to do some proper robbing. Whenever Arthur heard though, he’d come over and tell them you were the worst choice to go out and do any work like that, you simply couldn’t handle it. 

There’s been other instances where Arthur seemed to think you were too weak to handle yourself. Sure, you grew up in a luxurious life, but you were willing to learn. Arthur just didn’t want to let you for some reason. In fact, he seemed to think you didn’t belong here. You wondered many times why he disliked you so much. It unsettled you a bit how you often found him staring at you, and when you looked at him, he’d look away. The other girls said that Arthur had an extremely tough exterior but he possessed a good, soft heart. They could always depend on him to protect them when they needed it. You just couldn’t see how that could be. 

Grimshaw comes over and tells you to stop working, that the day’s chores are done and to get yourself some dinner. You go over to Pearson’s wagon and scoop yourself some of his stew onto a plate. Most days, this is what Pearson makes, but on occasion, he’ll mix it up with some cornbread or fresh vegetables. Of course, he always has cans of food and other provisions available at his wagon. You take a can of peaches before heading to the round table to eat. 

Just as you’ve sat down and begun eating, Arthur walks over and sits down across from you. You don’t know why he does since he clearly doesn’t like you. He’s done this a number of times, sitting near you at the fire or coming to listen when you’re chatting with the others. He never says anything and you can’t read what he’s thinking from his face. You swallow heavily and debate on whether or not to leave. After all, he’s a high-ranking member of the gang, directly underneath Dutch and Hosea. You’re just some dumb newbie compared to him. But you decide to stay, not wanting to seem rude and give him a reason to like you even less. 

The two of you sit at the table and eat, not speaking. He glances up at you every so often, making you feel incredibly small and pathetic. As you finish your meal, Pearson walks over. 

“Arthur, can you go to Valentine tomorrow? I need some supplies picked up from the store.” 

“Sure,” Arthur says and Pearson hands him a list. 

“Oh, and can you stop at the post office too?” 

Arthur nods and looks at the list. “Guess I’ll need to take someone along. Quite a list, Mr. Pearson.” 

Pearson looks at you and points in your direction. “Take Y/N here. Sure she can handle it just fine.” 

“No,” Arthur says, returning to his plate of stew. “No, she needs to stay here. Stay where the others can keep an eye on her.” 

Your heart sinks. You’d been hoping you could go to town, you’ve been cooped up here for weeks. You’re tired of seeing the same trees, the same people. Pearson sighs. “Just take her, Mr. Morgan. What’s the worst that can happen on a shopping trip?” 

Arthur throws him a look as if to say Pearson didn’t know how dangerous a shopping trip could be, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “Fine. Y/N, I’ll be leaving early. Be ready.” 

“Yes sir,” you say quietly. 

He throws you a curious glance but then he gets up and takes his empty plate over to the wash barrel. He doesn’t say anything or even look at you the rest of the night. You know he’s only taking you because Pearson twisted his arm. 

In the morning, you get ready as soon as the sun is up, but Arthur doesn’t even stir from his cot until the sun’s well up. Even then, he doesn’t leave immediately. He gets himself some coffee, chops some wood and then has a quick discussion with Dutch. You stay ready to go at any moment though, not wanting to give him a reason to get angry with you. 

Finally, Arthur calls you. “Let’s go,” he says. You rush over and climb into the wagon. He sits down next to you and you stiffen up. He lights a cigarette and then grabs the reins. 

“Know anythin’ ‘bout drivin’ wagons?” he asks. 

“A little,” you say. “My dad taught me the basics when I was young.” 

He hands you the reins and you drive the wagon to Valentine. Nothing happens on the way there, but you’re happy to see the little, muddy town. Other people mill about, most looking like ranchers and farmers. You drive the wagon down the main street and stop near the stables, not too far from the store. 

Arthur hops down without a word and throws the butt of his cigarette into the mud. He hands you Pearson’s list. “I’m gonna go check the post office,” he says and walks off. 

You go into the store and hand the clerk the list. He snaps at a shopboy who begins piling items into a box. You help him carry the boxes out to the wagon and start sliding them into the back. Arthur comes back after a short period, his hands empty. Post office must not have had anything. 

When the shopboy’s done loading up the wagon, you both climb up into it. You’re about to grab the reins but Arthur takes them and whips the horses into a steady trot. You wait for him to say something during the trip, but he doesn’t. He seems tense, anxious. You are, too. Why does he dislike you so much? Sure, you’re extremely inexperienced, but he won’t give you the chance to go out and learn. It’s not that you’re unwilling, you’ve even begged Dutch and Hosea a few times, but Arthur wins them out, pointing out that something is surely to go wrong. 

When you get back to camp, you start unloading the wagon when Bill and Lenny come up to you. 

“Y/N, you ever rob a stage before?” Bill says. 

“I’ve barely robbed anything before,” you say. 

“She’s perfect for the job!” Lenny says with a smile. He explains that the stage he and Bill want to rob will have drivers that are heavily suspicious of being robbed. They want you to go and stop the stage and pretend to be lost. Since you have no experience robbing, you’re the most innocent person in camp. 

“It’ll be easy,” Lenny finishes. 

“Just make sure you get into cover as quick as you can if they start shootin’,” Bill adds. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Arthur says, attracted by Lenny’s excitement. Lenny tells him the plan and Arthur lowers his brow. “Absolutely not. You ain’t takin’ her nowhere. She’s gonna stay in camp, work with the girls.” 

“But she’s perfect, Arthur!” Lenny pleads. “You’ve robbed this company before, you know how quick they are to draw fire.” 

“Exactly my point! She don’t know nothin’ about robbin’, ya ain’t takin’ her!” Arthur says. 

“Mr. Morgan!” you say sharply. “I want to help! People keep asking me to help with jobs and you won’t let me! Dutch and Grimshaw are always saying that everyone needs to earn my keep, now let me do my part!” 

“You ain’t goin’ and that’s final!” he snarls. You hold your ground. Arthur turns to Bill and Lenny and orders them to get someone else. When they turn away, muttering, you glare at Arthur. 

“Can I talk to you? Alone?” you ask. 

He sighs. “Fine.” 

You lead him into the trees and then round on him as soon as you’re out of shot from camp. 

“What is your problem with me?” you demand. 

“I ain’t got a problem-” 

“Yes you do, Mr. Morgan! Ever since I showed up, you haven’t liked me for even a second. The others want to teach me how to do work and I want to learn, but you always get in my way! I can learn, I’m a fast learner. I know I don’t know much now but that’ll change.” 

“You ain’t goin’ robbin’, Y/N. You ain’t right for the job!” he says. 

You stand there for a second, your anger rising. This man has done nothing except make your life even more difficult than it is, given the situation. You can see now he’s arrogant and prideful, and he doesn’t want you taking a share of the profits. 

“Why do you hate me?” you demand of him. 

“What?” he says, clearly taken off guard. 

“I said why do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate-”

“Bullshit, don’t lie to me, Mr. Morgan! You haven’t liked me from the start. I don’t know what I said or did to piss you off, but you’re being an ass! All the other girls keep telling me I’ll see that you’re a nice guy, but you’ve done nothing to prove them right!” 

He sighs, his mouth in a tight frown. He looks down, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat. “I don’t hate ya, Y/N. Farthest thing from it, actually.” His voice is soft and rough. 

“Then why are you doing this?” You put your hands on your hips. 

“Because I… I’m afraid for ya. You’ve been hurt a lot by that awful uncle, I just want ya safe.” 

This is the last thing you expected. Safe? Why would he care for your safety? Then you begin recalling all the arguments you’ve heard him have with the others when it came to you going out and working. He’s always mentioned that something could go wrong and you might get hurt, but not that you’d be the one causing it to go wrong. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve come off coarse,” he continues. “It’s just I… when I first met ya I…. I just wanted to… just wanted to protect ya.” 

He rubs the back of his neck. You take a step back from him, confused still. 

“Protect me? But you seem to be unhappy that I’m here.” 

“I’m not. Y/N, I don’t dislike ya. Maybe that’s the problem. I…. I really like ya. Been wantin’ to talk to ya for weeks, just didn’t know what to say.” 

“You say hello. You ask me my favorite color, for God’s sake, Arthur!” you say a little more harshly than you meant to. Is he being serious? Has he been so stern about you doing work because he wants you safe because he has a crush on you? That can’t be right. You’re a nobody and he’s, well, he’s Arthur Morgan! When you first saw him, you noted how tall and broad he was, and how lovely his eyes were. 

“I know. I been doin’ this all wrong,” Arthur says. “I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to me, big ugly bastard that I am.” 

You frown at him a bit. Those are the last words you’d use to describe him. “You always assume things when you meet someone new?” you ask quietly. “Don’t you?” he says. “I’m real sorry I came off that way, Y/N. Do you mind if maybe we start over? Try to get off on the right foot?” 

You sigh. “Sure, Arthur.” 

He smiles and it brightens up his face. “Thank ya. By the way, what is your favorite color?”

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 5

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

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This story is also on AO3

TWO DAYS LATER

AURORA BASIN

Making haste across the camp, Arthur strode over to Dutch’s cabin with an uneasy spring in his step as he joined his fellow gang members, his mind racing with incessant thoughts of doubt.

The Van der Lindes had spent the entirety of the previous night preparing for today’s robbery and equipped themselves with every possible weapon, completely armed to the teeth.

They were carrying shotguns, rifles, pistols, knives -- hell, even dynamite. Arthur had no earthly idea how they were supposed to sneak past all the lawmen while looking so conspicuous, but he assumed that Dutch would have some sort of “miracle” plan to work things out.

He always did.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Dutch announced, approaching his men as they waited outside the cabin. “Today’s the day. We’ve been plannin’ this robbery for a long time now, and I am well aware that there has been some skepticism...” he threw a glare at Arthur, “...about how this is going to work. But trust me -- we’ve been doin’ robberies like this for decades now. We was born and bred as outlaws. We live for jobs like this. This ain’t nothin’ new to us.”

Dutch held up a reassuring hand. “We are gonna be just fine. Just follow my lead, lie low, and don’t do anything stupid. Now, as for the plan...”

He gestured to two gang members. “Cleet and Joe are gonna stay behind to guard the camp while we’re away. They’re also gonna help pack things up since I do plan on movin’ once we’re finished in Blackwater.”

Arthur raised a question. “Where we going?”

“I don’t have an exact location yet,” Dutch answered, “but I’m thinkin’ of heading east. I’m not fond of civilization -- you know that -- but it’s clear to me now that this gang ain’t ready to run itself. If there’s anyone out there who can cure my illness, or postpone my death at the very least, it’s a chance I have to take. And I doubt we’re gonna find any fancy doctors over in New Austin.”

Micah joined in. “And what about the robbery?”

“Just keep your wits about you.” Dutch advised. “As you all know, there are many lawmen guarding this bank. According to Mackintosh, we can expect roughly a dozen. I don’t want any of you firin’ your guns unless absolutely necessary. Understand? Let’s try to keep this as quiet as possible, and as quick as possible.”

“Now, as for who’s doin’ what... Arthur, you focus on gettin’ the vault open. I don’t care how you do it. Whether you wanna beat the teller, or figure out the combination yourself, just make sure you don’t draw the law’s attention too quick. Micah and Bill, I’m countin’ on you two to keep any unruly customers at bay. We got enough to worry about as is. I don’t need any surprises. Shay, you be on the lookout for anyone that tries to stop us.”

“What d’you want us to do if somethin’ goes wrong?” Arthur asked. “Where should we meet?”

“If we get separated, head to Quaker’s Cove. It’s a jetty just south of Blackwater. But do not ride straight back to camp. We can’t risk leadin’ the law into the heart of our gang. Now... is everyone clear on the plan?”

The gang exchanged looks with each other, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I think we are, Dutch.” Shay replied.

The older man grinned deviously. “Then let’s goddamn do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

TALL TREES

Galloping through the forest at full speed, Dutch and his small army of men carved their way through the thick woods as they hurried to Blackwater, anxious to get this robbery over with.

Not only were they expecting to see heavy resistance at the bank, they also had to ride straight through Skinner Brother territory in order to reach it in the first place. And they weren’t exactly the type to cower in the shadows.

There were toppled stagecoaches lying on the side of the road, people hanging from trees, rotting horse carcasses leaned up against the rocks, and columns of black smoke just above the horizon that pinpointed their other camps throughout the region.

It was no wonder the Pinkertons took an interest in this place. Anybody who wandered into Tall Trees was essentially signing their own death warrant, and even the local law had been spooked away from this area.

Arthur just hoped they didn’t get roasted alive before they reached Blackwater. Dealing with a few cowboys who had badges slapped onto their coats was one thing, but these Skinner Brothers... they were no joke.

They were crazy, but clever. Wild, but organized. Nowhere to be seen, but everywhere at the same time. They had been targeting travelers and lawmen alike for years now, and Arthur doubted their gang would be any exception. 

Unbeknownst to him however, there was another, much more urgent threat that awaited them in the forest. 

And he was far more familiar with this one than he realized.

Holding his rifle close to his chest, Isaac attentively observed the gang from behind a boulder as they traveled along the narrow paths, completely oblivious to the man watching them from afar.

The young man had been waiting in the same spot for nearly two hours now and already set up a few traps in order to delay the gang’s return, but he didn’t plan on killing Mackintosh just yet.

He was surrounded by too many people. Too many obstacles. The Van der Lindes had a reputation of being some of the deadliest outlaws in the country, and Isaac knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to tackle all of them single-handedly.

If he was going to kill Mackintosh and escape West Elizabeth with his life, he’d have to eliminate the men protecting him first.

That was why he was going to poison their food.

Peering through the scope of his rifle, Isaac scanned the gang as they breezed past the trees, riding like a bunch of bats out of hell. At first glance, none of them seemed to stand out, but upon taking a closer look, Isaac suddenly spotted Mackintosh himself riding alongside another man.

“...There you are, you piece of shit...” He muttered under his breath, tempted to pull the trigger and be done with it.

But he couldn’t do it. Not yet. 

Isaac wanted Shay to know who was coming after him, and he wanted his face to be the last thing that pathetic murderer ever saw... but he was going to do it right.

He didn’t spend fifteen years hunting Mackintosh down just to shoot him like a bird in the breeze. If Isaac was going to kill him, he’d do it in a way that neither of them would ever forget.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the young man lowered his rifle and forced himself to stay back, allowing Mackintosh to ride away with the rest of the gang.

It pained Isaac to just let him slip out of his fingers like this, but if everything went according to plan these next few days, then he’d get his revenge sooner than he even knew it.

He just had to wait a little bit longer.

Standing up from the ground, Isaac tugged on his horse’s reins and led him through the woods, trying to stay as low as possible while he headed for the entrance to Aurora Basin.

“C’mon, Aldo...” he whispered, getting the poison ready. “We’re almost there.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

BANK OF BLACKWATER

Gathering near the edge of town, Dutch and his men all huddled up in a straight line as they observed the bank standing in the distance, their hearts pumping with adrenaline.

It didn’t look like anyone in Blackwater had taken an interest in their activities just yet, but considering the horses’ restless whinnies and the way they struggled in their bridles, a storm was on its way.

They’d have to move quick.

“There it is.” Dutch said, observing the tall building. “The Blackwater bank.” 

He glanced side-to-side, checking on all his men. “...Are you boys ready?”

Micah rolled his shoulders. “Ready, Dutch.”

“Good. Then let’s--”

“--Hold up.” Arthur suddenly interrupted, gaining Dutch’s attention.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “What is it?”

The other man narrowed his eyes ominously. “This don’t feel right...”

“What doesn’t?”

Arthur gestured to the bank’s entrance. “Look. There’s hardly anyone here. No guards, no Pinkertons, no local law...”

Dutch was already bored of his skepticism. “So...?”

“So, where the hell is everybody? When Shay and I were last here, we counted at least a dozen people. Ain’t no way they’d just leave the bank unguarded like this.”

Micah mimicked a snore. “Doubt, doubt, and more doubt. Do you ever stop worrying, Morgan?”

Arthur glared at him in annoyance. “I’m just tryin’ to keep what few people we have left alive, Bell. You wasn’t there when we scouted this place out. They had a goddamn army of lawmen protectin’ this bank.”

Shay jumped in. “It’s true. We saw a shit ton of men here, Dutch. It wasn’t pretty. If we stayed any longer, we woulda gotten caught.”

“And now...” Arthur continued, “they’ve all suddenly disappeared. On the same day of our robbery, no less. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Dutch shrugged casually. “Whether it’s coincidence or fate, I won’t complain. You was worried that we wouldn’t be able to find any openings, weren’t you, Arthur? Well, here it is. Now, put on your mask and set aside your worries. We’ve wasted long enough bickering about how we’re gonna rob this bank. I say it’s time we goddamn do it.”

Bill pulled his bandana up. “Right behind you, boss.”

Arthur let out an irritated sigh but followed Dutch’s actions nonetheless, preparing his pistol. “Fine. I’m with you. But I ain’t celebratin’ anytime soon.

Dutch dismounted his horse. “Then keep your gun close, and follow my lead. We have only one chance at this. Let’s not waste it.”

Prowling towards the bank like a pack of wolves, the entire gang steadily approached the front doors while keeping their eyes peeled at the same time, admittedly somewhat unnerved by Arthur’s observations.

Even though the two of them didn’t get along in the slightest, Micah couldn’t deny that he did find it a bit strange that no one was guarding the bank. Nobody outside the gang knew about their plans for the robbery -- except for the young man Micah spoke with -- and he was fairly certain that none of the other members had been in contact with the law.

If everything was at it seemed, then that meant the little rascal had gone behind Micah’s back and given the Pinkertons a tip about their next move. He was probably trying to buy himself some time by trapping them in Blackwater, and using the law as a way to delay their return.

...Goddammit, Micah cursed to himself. He was going strangle that boy if he ever saw him again.

“Alright, cowboys...” Dutch said lowly, flattening himself against the wall. “You all know what to do. Keep your guard up. Grab as much money as you can. We go in, and we go out.”

He pulled his mask over his nose. “Follow my lead!”

Whipping out both of his revolvers, Dutch planted a firm foot in the door and kicked it open, causing it to swing loose as everyone inside jolted their heads in his direction.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery!”

Rushing into the bank, Bill and Micah immediately got to work and started waving their guns around, making sure that all the customers were on the floor.

“Stay down!” Bill exclaimed, slamming the butt of his rifle into someone’s head.

Screams of panic could be heard throughout the building as the gang swiftly took control of the bank and cornered people into the walls, keeping them trapped behind the threat of getting shot.

“Don’t do nothin’ stupid!” Micah snarled. “Or you’ll get a bullet in your head! Understand?”

“Mr. M!” Dutch called out amidst the chaos, beckoning Arthur to the vault. “Go on and do your thing! We’ll keep an eye out for any law. Just get those bags full!”

Charging to the back of the bank, Arthur instantly aimed his pistol at the teller’s head and pulled down the hammer, forcing him to follow his every command.

“What’re you, deaf?” He barked, grabbing his collar. “Open the goddamn vault!”

“O-Okay!” The teller cried out. “Okay! J-Just... don’t hurt anyone!”

Reaching for the vault’s knob with a shaky hand, the teller frantically began to put the combination in while cowering under Arthur’s intense stare, his breath trembling uncontrollably with fear.

So far, everything was going according to plan, and neither Shay nor Dutch had raised the alarm yet, but Arthur just couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was coming.

Why else would the law leave the bank so vulnerable like this? This town was no stranger to criminals. Even in the busier parts of the city where things were more civilized, Arthur would still see at least one or two lawmen strolling about.

The only logical explanation he could think of... was that the Pinkertons were hoping to lure them all into one spot before wiping them out. 

They must’ve known how Dutch’s mind worked by now, and they must’ve been able to predict that he’d hit the bank eventually.

Arthur’s only question... was how they knew it would happen today.

“There!” The teller whimpered, throwing his hands in the air. “I-It’s open!”

“Good, now get outta my way.” Arthur shoved the man off to the side, pushing forward into the vault. 

“It’s open!” He announced to the rest of the gang. “Someone get over here and make sure this fool don’t try nothin’ funny. I’m gonna get the money.”

Stepping over the unconscious body of another customer, Arthur grabbed the bag dangling from his shoulder and began shoveling bundles of cash into it, wanting to get out of this godforsaken city as soon as possible.

He could already hear the whistles of police officers blaring in the distance, and if the amount of footsteps storming their way was anything to go by, Arthur imagined they were about to have one hell of a fight on their hands.

He just prayed they’d live long enough to see the end of it.

“How’s it lookin’ in there?” Dutch shouted across the bank.

“Good!” Arthur replied, not sounding too confident. “But it ain’t as much as we expected!”

The older man dismissed his comment. “Well, take it anyways! Now is hardly the time to be picky, son! We got lawmen headed our way!”

“I know! I’m goin’ as fast as I can!”

Moving onto the next stack of cash, Arthur opened up a second bag and began piling money into that one, hurriedly trying to swipe every single note he could see. 

It sounded like someone was giving orders outside of the bank -- most-likely positioning their men to surround the building -- and just by listening to the scattered sighs of relief coming from the customers, he guessed that their gang was probably in the least favorable position right now.

How did they arrive so fast? Arthur wondered. He knew that something was amiss just based on the absence of any lawmen at the bank, but it still seemed odd to him that they were this prompt. 

There was no way in hell that any of this was a coincidence like Dutch suggested. Someone told the law where their gang was going, and when they were going to be there. Someone here was a traitor.

Now they just had to figure out whom.

“...Van der Linde!” A man’s voice bellowed, causing the entire gang to fall silent.

Arthur froze in the vault, glancing over his shoulder at Dutch.

“Who the hell is that?” He whispered. The older man gave him a puzzled look.

“No idea.”

Readying his guns, Dutch crept his way over to one of the windows and peeked through the dusty glass, subtly taking a closer look at their unexpected visitor.

He couldn’t see their face from this distance -- what with all the sand billowing around -- but it didn’t take long for him notice the array of Pinkertons that had gathered outside.

They were in more trouble than they realized.

“Dutch van der Linde!” The man repeated, sounding much more aggressive this time. “I know you’re in there! Get out here! Now! There’s nowhere for you to run!”

Dutch kept himself hidden behind one of the walls, making sure that none of the Pinkertons could sneak a shot in.

“...And to whom do I have the displeasure of speaking with?” He called out, earning a few snickers from the gang.

“Oh, you know me.” They replied, evidently not threatened. “Much better than you think, old friend.”

A single man emerged from the crowd on horseback, holding a shotgun in his grasp. 

He was dressed in a black suit and bowler hat -- similar to the rest of his comrades -- and he donned a familiar-looking mustache that instantly led Dutch to recognize his unforgettable face.

“It’s me,” the man said, “Edgar Ross. You remember, don’t you, Mr. Van der Linde? Your people shot my partner Milton in cold blood all those years ago. Thought I’d drop by and say hello.”

Dutch scoffed. “Well, I must say, you certainly have a... unique approach to reunions, Mr. Ross. Normally when I greet people, I’m holding their hand. Not a gun.”

The Pinkerton’s expression remained flat. “Oh, I doubt that. Your lot are murderers, Dutch. Savages. You’ve become just as deranged as those Skinner Brothers, and everyone knows it. But not everyone knows how to deal with it. That’s the one mistake Milton made that got him killed.”

Ross cocked his shotgun, prompting the rest of the agents to follow suit.

“I told that man, time and time again, that if you want to cage a wild animal, you have to treat it like one. You can’t show mercy to those who don’t understand the concept of it. Otherwise, they’ll just perceive it as weakness.”

Dutch decided to hold his fire for now and warned the gang to keep calm, despite their itchy trigger fingers.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Ross.” He bargained, his tone sharp with caution. “Must this day end with even more bloodshed? You pride yourself on being a civilized man, after all. Do you not? So why don’t we conclude this situation with civility... and put our guns away? Like gentlemen.”

Agent Ross didn’t budge in the slightest. “Civility was damned the minute you walked into town, Dutch.”

Dutch’s entire demeanor shifted at the response, and Arthur could’ve sworn he saw something snap inside the old man. Something akin to a fire being ignited.

He had this look about him that said he was going to do something bold, and judging by the way he scanned the room, Arthur had a feeling it was going to be dangerously reckless, too.

What on Earth was he planning?

“Y’know what, Mr. Ross...?” Dutch said darkly, his voice rumbling like magma. “You’re right. Civility be damned.”

Without giving anyone time to react, the man suddenly grabbed one of the women in the bank and held a gun to her head, presenting her to the lawmen as she shrieked in fear.

“What the hell are you doing...?!” Arthur questioned through gritted teeth, completely forgetting about the money.

“Saving our lives...!” Dutch growled under his breath. “Just let me handle this, son.”

Dragging the woman so that she was visible through the windows, Dutch tightly held her in his grip and kept the pistol aimed at her temple, practically drilling the barrel through her skull.

“Shit!” Edgar’s partner Fordham exclaimed. “He’s got a hostage!”

Dutch chuckled at that. “Oh, I assure you, mister! I’ve got far more than just one! There are plenty of souls in here ripe for the taking, and I will most definitely take them all.” A malicious glint twinkled in his eye. “...Unless, of course, you let us go. We are... civilized folk, after all.”

Micah and Bill both laughed at that, but Arthur wasn’t anywhere near being amused. If their gang managed to survive this mess of a robbery, he and Dutch were certainly going to exchange a few words later.

“Shay,” Dutch whispered, gesturing to the explosives on his person, “plant a stick of dynamite on the rear wall, would you? It looks like we’re blasting our way out of here.”

Mackintosh nodded, bolting over to the other side. “Alright. Just keep ‘em distracted.”

The outlaw grinned. “Oh, don’t you worry, my boy. I will.”

Bringing his attention back to the Pinkertons, Dutch continued to restrain the woman as she frantically struggled in his grasp, sobbing due to the panic.

“Now, Mr. Ross,” he carried on, “I hate to put you in such a tough position, but if you want me to let these people go... I’m afraid I’m gonna need some assurances in return. A few favors, if you will.”

The Pinkerton glowered at him, refusing to comply. “Hubris will be the end of you, Dutch. Let that woman go. She isn’t a part of this.”

“Wasn’t.” Dutch corrected. “But now, I’ve made her a part of it. So, what it’s gonna be, agent? Can we come to some sort of understanding? Or shall we skip the small talk,” he pulled the hammer down, “and get straight to the shooting?”

Fordham turned to Ross, his face plastered with concern. “...We have to do what he says, Edgar. For now, at least. He’ll kill her otherwise.”

The other man wasn’t convinced. “...No. He won’t. A hostage is no use if they’re dead.”

“But you heard Dutch,” the young man persisted. “He has more than one. You’ve seen how far this gang will go. Who’s to say they won’t shoot them one-by-one until they get what they want?” 

Ross sighed in annoyance. “Do not believe the lies that these savages throw at you so easily, Archer. You really believe he has more than one? Dutch is just saying that to get the exact reaction he’s getting out of you.”

Fordham remained staunch. “Are you really willing to bet their lives on that? We can always recover the money stolen from this bank, but we can’t bring those people back once Dutch pulls that trigger. Whether he’s lying or not, we have to comply.”

In spite of the reluctance he harbored, Ross listened closely to Fordham’s words and reconsidered his stance on the situation, finally deciding that perhaps, his partner had a point.

Even though letting Dutch run away was the last thing he wanted to do, saving the lives of innocent people was more important. Dutch was most-likely going to die off soon anyway, considering the state of his health, but if there was any chance of having him face true justice, Ross was going to take it.

Still, he had to prioritize the safety of those hostages before anything else. They were completely defenseless in that bank, and if Dutch was actually telling the truth, then Ross didn’t want to be the one who simply stood by and watched as they died.

“Fine.” Edgar conceded. “We’ll stand down for now. Just make sure that he doesn’t--”

Before the man could even finish his sentence, a sudden explosion erupted from the bank and shook the entire city around it, causing the Pinkertons’ horses to rear out of fright as smoke polluted the air.

“What the hell?” Fordham blurted out, his eyes popping wide open.

“Goddammit!” Ross yelled. “They’re escaping through the back! Don’t let them get away!”

Whipping the reins on his horse, Ross and the rest of the Pinkertons immediately began galloping after Dutch as they charged towards the Great Plains, running like there was no tomorrow.

They didn’t hear any gunshots prior to the explosion, so Fordham assumed that Dutch had spared the hostages, but even then, their chances of survival were pretty slim. That bank certainly wasn’t the biggest one in America, and there was no way to guarantee that the dynamite hadn’t gotten them instead.

“They’re heading west!” Ross shouted, keeping his eye on the horizon. “Stop them!”

Opening fire on the Van der Lindes, the Pinkertons began showering the gang with a storm of bullets as they barreled their way across the open fields, leaving a trail of gun smoke and dust behind them.

A symphony of screams and shouts could be heard throughout the region as Pinkertons were sent tumbling off their horses by the Van der Lindes’ attacks, causing them to leave trails of blood on the golden grass below.

“You see them anywhere?” Fordham yelled over all the commotion, reloading his rifle.

Edgar did his best to peer through the smoke. 

“...No.” He said in disappointment.

Ross yanked on the reins and slowed down to a halt, commanding the rest of his men to do the same.

“Shit...!” He cursed, attentively scanning the tree line. “Those bastards are quick. I’ll give them that.”

Fordham caught up to his partner, slightly out of breath due to the sudden chaos. 

“Well, what do we do now?”

The other man gazed at the carnage behind them, more fervent than ever to take Dutch down. 

“Keep searching for them. While their trail is still hot. We’ll push them all the way to Armadillo if we have to, but it won’t be easy. There aren’t as many of them nowadays as there were before. It’ll be harder to pick up any tracks.”

Fordham gave him a firm nod. “Understood.”

“But first,” Ross said, stopping Archer before he could leave, “I want you and a few other men to check up on the hostages at the bank. Some of them could’ve survived. If they did, they’ll need someone to look after them.”

The young man felt a sense of relief upon hearing Edgar say that. “Right. Of course. On my way.”

“Then make it quick.” Ross ordered. “I don’t want to give these animals the chance to flee the state. We have them by the neck. It’s time we took them down for good.”

Turning back towards Blackwater, Fordham called out to some of the other Pinkertons and beckoned them to follow him, breaking into a sprint as they all rushed to the bank.

Meanwhile, Ross stayed behind and continued his search for the gang, admittedly feeling sour that he let Dutch slip from his grasp once again.

Why was that man so difficult to catch? He was nothing but another lowlife terrorizing the American countryside, and it wasn’t as if the Pinkertons hadn’t dealt with his type before. In fact, Edgar was even willing to wager that they had fought worse.

He supposed it had less to do with Dutch himself, and more with the people who surrounded him. They were loyal. Well-trained. Bred for killing. The type of men who would rather die than let their leader be taken.

That was why Milton’s methods never worked. He gave the other members a chance to leave Dutch behind without realizing that he was the only world they ever knew. He bet his survival on the assumption that those people had something to go back to when, in reality, the gang had become their new family.

In Edgar’s eyes though, they were all monsters. Every single one of them had to be eradicated if the Pinkertons ever hoped to find peace, and despite how he may’ve clashed heads with Fordham occasionally, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to catch them alone.

The Van der Linde gang was dying, yes.

But that was what made them so dangerous.

And this time, the Pinkertons were prepared.

~~~~~~~~~~

HALF AN HOUR LATER

AURORA BASIN

“D’you think we lost ‘em?” Micah asked as he brought his horse to a stop, his heart still racing from what happened at the bank. 

Dutch let out a deep breath and slouched in his saddle, coughing a few times before spitting on the ground.

“I... I think so.” He confirmed, slowing to a trot. “I doubt the Pinkertons will give up easily, but it doesn’t seem like they know where our camp is yet. We should be safe for the moment. Just keep an eye out. They already took us by surprise once. We don’t want it to happen again.”

Arthur grumbled at that and immediately hopped off his horse, almost tempted to hightail it out of West Elizabeth right there.

“Well, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you’d have just listened to me!”

Dutch looked at Arthur with a cautionary glare, his eyes wild from the fight. “I do not have time for this right now, Arthur...!”

But the younger man wouldn’t let up. “And when do you have time, Dutch? Huh? I tried to warn you twice about the risks that this robbery entailed, and twice you decided to ignore me!”

Arthur pointed outside the camp, his tone rough with disbelief. “You nearly killed that woman, Dutch. An innocent woman. Just like the one in Guarma.”

Micah scoffed. “Oh, you’re really gonna pull that one out, Morgan--”

“--Stay out of this, Micah.” 

Dutch raised his voice, shouting over the two of them. “Enough! Stop it. Both of you.”

He brought his focus to Arthur, evidently furious with the man’s constant doubt.

“Listen to me, son. I did... what I had to. It ain’t pleasant, but sometimes, survival comes before morality. You saw the way those Pinkertons scrambled once I took that woman hostage. Their hesitation is the only reason we managed to escape. What else could I have done?”

“You could’ve listened.” Arthur said. “You could’ve listened to all the people who’ve warned you ever since the beginning, but over and over again, you chose not to. And now look where we are!”

“We are still alive, Arthur!” Dutch replied.

“We’re dying!” He yelled back.

Falling silent after his sudden outburst, Arthur sighed in exhaustion and removed his hat, wiping some sweat off his brow as Dutch approached him.

“Arthur,” he said, his voice much gentler now. “I... I ain’t got that much time left. You know this.”

Dutch put a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him in the eye.

“I need you to be with me in these final moments. Not against me. These Pinkertons -- they don’t care who they kill so long as they’re killing one of us. All they want is to destroy our gang, and that’s why we need to stick together in this fight. We cannot let them win, Arthur.”

The other man’s face sank with despondency. “...They’re already winning, Dutch. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with us. That’s just the way it is now. Civilization is gonna be on top of us soon, and we’re gonna disappear someday, too. Whether we’re ready for it or not.”

Having no more desire to argue with Dutch, Arthur hurriedly pulled the bags off his shoulders and slung them across his horse’s saddle, not even bothering to grab his own share of the take.

“Here’s the money we got.” He showed Dutch. “Do with it what you will.”

Contrary to what Arthur expected though, the other man didn’t throw himself at the cash and, instead, simply gazed at Morgan, his eyes lost in sorrow.

Arthur could tell that Dutch felt a little apologetic for pushing him away like this, and they both wished there was some way they could get through to the other, but with all the pandemonium surrounding them these days, it seemed like their words often carried next to no weight.

Their conversations usually had about as much progress as Manifest Destiny did in New Austin, and considering the fact that Dutch didn’t pull out his gun this time, Arthur wondered if the man was truly sorry for his actions.

“Arthur...” the man whispered, “I--”

Before he could say anything though, the disgusting sound of someone retching abruptly interrupted them, and upon turning to see where the source was coming from, Arthur saw Cleet clutching his throat in the distance, his face turning into an alarming shade of blue.

“What the hell...?” Arthur murmured, still trying to process the view. “What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?”

Shay took a closer look at him, suddenly breaking into a panic once he realized the man was dying.

“Oh, shit. He’s choking!”

Putting his things down, Shay instantly jumped off his horse and rushed over to Cleet in an attempt to help him, only to screech to a halt when a gush of blood came spurting out the man’s mouth.

“Jesus Christ!” Mackintosh exclaimed, staring widely at the horrific scene.

Meanwhile, Cleet collapsed to the stained grass beneath him and continued to writhe in agony, his lungs desperately gasping for oxygen, but to no avail.

His lips were purple, his eyes were bloodshot, his teeth were red, and the veins in his forehead protruded to the point where Arthur thought they might burst through his skin. There was a yellowish foam bubbling around the corner of his mouth now, and despite the gang’s efforts to help him, his condition only seemed to deteriorate.

Eventually, within a few short heartbeats... he was gone.

Just like that.

All because of one untimely meal.

“...Lord above...” Dutch breathed out, still in shock. 

“What... what the hell just happened?” Shay asked, gazing down at Cleet’s body. “Did he really choke?”

Arthur examined the man’s hellish-looking face, almost immediately coming to a conclusion.

“Of course not, dumbass. Look at him. Foam ‘round the mouth, bloodshot eyes, blue skin. Somebody poisoned Cleet.”

Bill called out to them from the supply wagons, adding even more problems to their already long list of concerns. “Yeah, and they also stole everything we have!”

Dutch strode over to him. “What’re you talking about, Williamson?”

“Look!” He pointed at the empty crates. “Our food, our money, our ammo -- it’s all gone! And our weapons are destroyed, too!”

Dutch glared at Joe with a deadly expression, clearly on the verge of killing someone. “Mind telling me what in the actual hell happened here, Joe?”

The poor man was at a loss. “Cleet and I didn’t see anyone in the camp, Dutch! I swear! There was no one here the whole time!”

“Is that so?” He snarled, grabbing Joe by the collar. “Then explain to me how Cleet was poisoned and our supplies were destroyed if nobody was goddamn here!”

Joe had no answer to offer. “I don’t know, Dutch. Truly, I don’t. I swear on my life--”

“--Good.”

Whipping out his gun, Dutch aimed the weapon straight at Joe’s forehead and nearly pulled the trigger, only to be stopped when Arthur intervened.

“Dutch, don’t!” He insisted.

“Why not?!” The older man asked, his jaw clenched in anger.

“Because we have no evidence that it was him! It could’ve been someone from outside the gang, for all we know!”

But Dutch wasn’t having any of it. “That’s what you believe? Oh come on, Arthur! How else could the Pinkertons have known when to corner us? How else could someone have snuck into our camp -- while we were all gone, no less -- and destroyed our supplies? Someone in the gang is helping the rat, and right now, I don’t see any other obvious suspects except for the one standing in front of me!”

Arthur rested a hand on Dutch’s arm, urging him to lower it. 

“Even if it was Joe, we don’t have time to deal with this now, Dutch. The Pinkertons are still lookin’ for us. We’ve got a fresh trail leading straight to the camp, and if we don’t leave soon, we’re all gonna be hanging from a noose by the end of the week. We’ll find out who the rat is once we’re in a safe location. Or safer, at least.”

Dutch took one last look at Joe and ground his teeth together, deciding to hold back for now.

“...Fine.” He complied. “But don’t think I’m just gonna drop this, Arthur.”

“Oh, I know, Dutch,” he agreed. “I won’t either.”

Returning to their lives, Arthur and Dutch finally calmed down and started helping the other members pack up the camp, both of them extremely disturbed by the events that just transpired.

Not only did they lose one of their men today, they also had a plethora of new issues to worry about.

The Pinkertons were on their tail, Dutch was losing his mind, their supplies were all destroyed, and now, it was pretty clear that someone among the gang had turned traitor. 

Why would they do this? Arthur questioned. What did they have to gain by killing a group of people who were already knocking on death’s door? Money? Power? Freedom from the rope? He had no idea.

Well, whatever the answer was, Arthur imagined they’d all probably be dead before they found out. The whole world was fighting against them now, and without anywhere else to run to these days, it felt like the walls were closing in on them.

Hope continued to wither away like a flickering candle, and seeing as how their family just got a little bit smaller, Arthur assumed it wouldn’t be long before the flame was completely snuffed out.

That was how the world functioned now. Civilization was bigger than all of them combined, and soon... it would consume them too. 

Such was the way of life.

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 9 (2/3)

Soo, I’m thinking about my graduation travel and I’d really like to go to America. Something like a road trip around the States. But I definitely need more money for that to happen. 

DUTCH!! I NEED HELP WITH A BANK JOB!

No. Considering how your last heists are going, better not.

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/645629699195846656/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-9-13

Chapter 9 (2/3) - Ghosts and chickens

Words: 2,5

After a few days from everybody’s departure, John decided to check Emerald Ranch for those sheep he wanted to steal. Emily changed her clothes again, wearing something that wouldn’t catch attention and with John they took a wagon: he was still recovering from Blackwater and the wolves attack, and he couldn’t ride. To the wagon they tied John’s Old Boy and Emily’s Drover.  

“Why don’t we just… I don’t kn0w, ask them to do the job and get payed the half from the sheep sale instead of robbing them blind” said Emily while they headed to the ranch.

“Because that way we get paid for half of it. By robbing them we get the whole reward” replied John.

“But they are good people, trying to make a living from those sheep. It’s not right.”

“If you wanted to make things right you shouldn’t have joined a gang of outlaws.” “But why don’t you try to make things differently? It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Too late for that. We’ve been doing it this way all our life.”

Emily huffed. He had such a narrow mind. For them it was black or white, good or evil, outlaws or fine people, while in reality there were so many shades, so many chances to do things in a different way.

They didn’t want to be “slaves of the government”? Good, they could live that life - in 1899 it was still possible - but they didn’t have to steal sheep from a ranch to do that.

“So what? We walk inside and tell them we want to rob them?” she asked annoyed.

“We meet the people and ask if they have cattle to sell. I reckon we’ll soon find out where and when they’ll move it, so we can ambush them.”

“Wow, you thought it through.”

“I’m not as stupid as they say I am” he joked.

“They don’t say you’re stupid, they say you’re an idiot. It’s different” laughed Emily, but she soon realized her words had offended him.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, I only repeat what they say.”

“Who says that?”

“Nah nah, I’m not snitching on them” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Ahh… I don’t care anyway.” The road they took was definitely longer than the one she was used to do to reach Valentine and during their journey Emily asked John about his past, just like he had done with the others, and she found out he was an orphan too, and that he had joined Dutch when he was around twelve. 

“What kind of life has it been?” she asked. For her it was impossible to think of living like that.

“Restless. But I know I wouldn’t be able to live any other kind of life. I feel like I was born to do this” he answered.

“Born to be an outlaw?”

“To be free.”

Emily didn’t have the courage to tell him she though that wasn’t freedom at all. How can a life lived on the run be considered freedom? Without considering the moral wrongs they did on themselves every time it happened they killed someone. But how could she explain that to John? He couldn’t understand, he had an “Old Wild West” mindset. She decided to change topic.

“How long will it take to reach this place?”

“Not much.”

“With a car it would be much easier. Can you believe that we can travel across a state in one night?”

“In one night? They are fast those cars of yours” laughed John.

“If I had a car right now, I could reach Saint Denis in half a day, maybe less. Maybe I could be home for lunch and eat the wonderful roasted chicken my mum does.”

Silence fell as Emily lowered her eyes and studied every single straw of grass on the side of the road. John of course hadn’t sensed the change in her mood.

“How long does it take with a horse for Saint Denis?” she asked looking at the horizon.

“I ain’t sure, but… I’d say two days.”

“Two days” she whispered and her eyes fixed on the road again, while in her head she was thinking about how to get to the city.

The road led them through the Twin Stack Pass, and, as soon as the rocky promontories ended, something made its appearance, something that, at least, could lift Emily’s morale of an inch: a herd of wild horses.

“Whoah! They are beautiful, in their own way, aren’t they?”

“I guess they are.” “Oh my God! It’s just like that movie… oh, what’s its name? The one with the wild horse!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The movie! The movie!” she kept yelling and pulling John’s sleeve pointing at the horses running away.

“Oh, I wish I had my phone with me so I could take a good picture” she complained.

“Don’t you have one of those things to make photographs back in camp? I saw you was trying to take a picture of Mary-Beth the other day.”

“Yeah, but with that thing I need fifteen minutes to get the angle and the light and I never know how the photo will be in the end, if I got it right… that machine is a nightmare” she said gesturing widely.

“With my phone or a normal camera, one of those we have in the future, would be much easier.”

...

John glanced at her. That was the second time she mentioned the “future” in his presence and from the natural way she pronounced those words, John was having a hard time believing that she was crazy, because she didn’t sound like a deluded fool, she sounded normal.

“You use telephones for pictures? Not for calling people?” he asked perplexed.

“We use them for both. You can call people, send a SMS, Whatsapp and make photos. Or watch a movie, listen to music…”

She rattled off a series of actions she could do with that magic phone of hers, but the more she tried to explain, the more John was confused. 

With silence falling, they both looked at the green landscape around them and smelled the fresh air of the morning. The temperature in the Heartlands was ideal: not as cold as the mountains, not as hot as the south, but something in-between that made it perfect for a journey under the sun like the one they were making. 

With another whip on the reins, John’s attention was caught by some far buildings with high chimneys. Emily followed his example and saw them too. She knew exactly what it was, there were so many of them in the future, even if with a little more modern style. 

“Oil factory” murmured John.

“Yeah, I know. Who does it belong to?”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe Leviticus Cornwall?”

John jerked his head around to look right at her face.

“What do you know about Leviticus Cornwall?” he asked.

“That he was a great man with a great business.”

“You mean a pompous son of a bitch with a lot of money” John laughed bitterly.

“How can you say that? You don’t know him.”

“Dutch told me about him.”

“But from my understanding, he doesn’t know the man either” she replied frowning.

“Dutch knows people like him. He’s been fighting them all his life.”

Fighting? What was he been fighting? Economists? Businessmen? But those people are only a representation of a greater thing: progress. And you can’t fight progress. 

Emily was starting to understand Dutch’s character a little better: a man with wrong but strong beliefs who had succeeded in convince a bunch of people to follow him in a life of sin and misery, but presenting that life to them like the best they could aspire to, some sort of guru, a mentor. 

Again, Emily didn’t find the courage to tell John that Dutch’s fight seemed useless and impossible. She didn’t want to attack that man who everybody saw like a light in the dark, the head and heart of the group. It wasn’t wise. 

They focused their attention on something else, talking about futility and ordinary things until they finally reached the Emerald Ranch. In Emily’s eyes it was a very peaceful place - at least at the beginning - quite big, but with most of the houses abandoned, which was something she found strange.

Maybe the place was having a period of recession and many had decided to leave, or worst, they were fired. The thought made her feel awful. Those people were probably having much trouble already on their own, they surely didn’t need them to steal their sheep. It could have been the final blow to make them fall in ruin. 

The three men inside the yard stopped what they were doing to look at them when they jumped down the wagon and walked down the street. The man with the scarred face and the limp and the little maiden. What a strange couple. 

“How can I help you?”

The words caught Emily and John’s attention. A man had spoken them, a gray-haired man with clear eyes. 

“Hi partner. We’re looking for, erm, sheep” said John walking towards him, hiding how he could the hurting leg.

“We’re starting a little business of ours as ranchers and we need animals” he added.

The man eyed John from head to toe frowning slightly at his words. 

“You don’t look like a rancher. What happened to you?” he asked nodding to John’s leg.

“Wolves.”

“Ah… nasty bastards.”

“You can say that. So, about them sheep?”

“Listen buddy. We don’t sell privately. If you want some sheep there will be an auction one week from now. You can buy your sheep there.”

“One week from now you say? And I’ll find some of your animals there?”

“Sure, we are the best around here.”

Relieved by the fact that everything was going as expected, John entertained a conversation of a few minutes with the man about cattle, pretending he really wanted to start his own business. Emily in the meantime had already lost herself. She was looking around at that strange place, so quiet, so old.  

Emerald Ranch had the stables and the animals on one side and the houses on the other, and the main house was perfectly distinguishable from those of the employees because it was definitely bigger and fancier, with its green and white exterior. 

Studying the building, she saw a woman at the window, looking down at her in the street, but Emily’s eyes had passed on her too quickly to understand that she was actually there, and returning on that window a fraction of second after, she had already gone.

At the beginning she thought of a reflection, a game the light had played to her eyes, otherwise, why should that woman hide from her? The fact struck Emily in such a way that she started looking round, at the other houses, the other people, and she noticed there wasn’t a single woman among them, just men. 

Her mind started to roam: she imagined the ghost of a woman hunting the place at night that scared all the women out of the place so that none of the ranchers could take wife, and without the chance to accept new people because of the ghost the place had started to fall in disgrace. 

“Are you looking for something?”

The man who had spoken had red hair, green eyes and a walrus mustache. Well built and tall, according to Emily he could be around forty.

“Just looking around. Why are those houses closed?” she asked pointing at the ruining buildings.

“This was a sort of little town once, but it didn’t work. That was a saloon, and that one was a general store.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

The man smiled, looking away and Emily found his smile incredibly attractive, but at the same time she was sure he was hiding something. 

“It just didn’t. Mr. Wagner, the owner, is a little jealous of his property and didn’t want any stranger to come here. That’s why you and… your friend should leave as soon as possible.”

Something inside Emily trembled at those words. The red haired man looked nice, but the worried way he had said those words was scaring her. She dared to ask just one question more.

“What about the woman at the window?”

The man took some steps backwards and shook his head slightly.

“Good day to you, Miss” he said and just walked away.

Once alone, Emily glanced again at the window before she ran back to John, who, in the mean time, talking with the man, had reached the fence and was pointing at some cows. 

“John, John, I think we should go” she urged him with a trembling voice.

“Yes, I think I have all the information I need. I’ll see you at the auction then” he said to the gray-haired man stretching out a hand. 

“Oh, no. Not really. We always send the young ones to herd the sheep to the auction.”

“Oh, well, goodbye then, partner.”

The two shook hands and, finally, John and Emily walked back to the wagon.

...

“They’ll move around ten heads one week from now, walking past the Twin Stack Pass. A perfect spot to surprise them. They sell each animal forty dollars. It’s not much but I reckon it will do for now.”

John looked at Emily, seated next to him on the wagon and suddenly realized there was something wrong: she had a troubled face.

“What? What happened?”

“That place… that place gave me the shivers.”

“Why? Seemed normal to me." “Something happened there, something terrible they’re trying to hide.”

John scoffed and shook his head. She was definitely 

exaggerating. 

“And what would it be?”

“A murder” she said without hesitation.

This time John laughed openly, but he hadn’t considered the still painful stitches on his face and the laugh chocked in his mouth and turned into a moan of pain. 

“What gave you the idea?” he asked.

Emily wanted to tell him about the ghost of the woman at the window, but she knew he would have probably called her crazy.

For all the way back, she was rather silent. Heading to Emerald Ranch, she had chewed John’s ear off, and honestly, he preferred her when she talked, because that silence was making the journey long and boring. 

“Oh! I forgot!” she exclaimed slamming her hand on her forehead.

“What?”

“I wanted to buy a chicken.”

John’s expression doesn’t need a description, he was more than bewildered at those words.

“What?”

“A chicken. The other day Jack told me he never ate chicken. I wanted to cook one, or try to cook one for him.”

“He’s never eaten chicken?”

It was Emily turn to look at him in bewilderment.

“You don’t know that your son has never tried chicken?”

No, John didn’t want to talk about that, Abigail already burdened him with fatherly questions everyday in camp. 

“Never mind, we’re almost home” he diverted.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The city kid and the horse whisperer; Charles (Joe Mazzello Wooly boys) x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay let me first start off by saying I have NEVER WATCHED WOOLY BOYS SO IF YOU HAVE AND I GET ANYTHING WRONG, I AM SORRY!!! There’s just no way for me to watch this film unless I buy it. But I figured I give this a shot, hopefully you all like it and I’m planning on one more Charles fic in mind but until then I hope you all enjoy this one.

Warnings: drowning (just vague scene of it, not really any major details), some flirting, playful banter, teasing (platonically), and a writer who has no idea about this film other than from what she’s seen in the trailer and a clip or two of the movie.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@psychosupernatural​

@simonedk​

@dancingcoolcat​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

@geek-and-proud​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

____________________________________________________________

I watched from afar as Charles was struggling to get onto Whiskey and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.  How could someone that is related to the great AJ “Stoney” Stoneman, and not know how to ride a horse? Guess city folks really don’t get it.  I stood there with Stoney’s white stallion ‘White lightning’ as I continued to stroke his mane.

“He really is trying isn’t he boy?” he grunted as he turned his head towards me and nickered softly.  “Oh come on he’s not that bad.”

“I swear every time I hear you talk to them, it’s almost like you do have witch-like powers.” Stoney’s voice soon spoke up.  I turned and smiled at the old man who’s been the only real positive male figure in my life.

“Just call me one with Mother Nature’s creatures.” I joked.

“You know; you are the youngest rider out of Shuck and I. And Charlie there won’t really listen to a bunch of old geezers like us. Why don’t you give him some tips on riding?” I chuckled softly.

“That’s funny.” When I heard Stoney not laughing nor chuckling along, I looked back towards him and said, “You’re being serious?” his brow raised. “Stoney, he won’t listen to me. You know that right?”

“Well he’s pretty pissed off at me and Shuck doesn’t really believe he can be a Wooly boy. Besides no one else is a better rider than you. Remember how you bested them Spratt boys last year at the rodeo?” I grinned smugly, “You lasted longer than either of them arrogant little assholes did on the bull ride, a full 20 seconds.”

“Yah those boys hadn’t let me live it down ever since. Always challenging me to a rematch or claiming I was cheatin.”

“My point is, I think my grandson could do better with some company around his age.”

“You sure this is about letting your grandson learn to ride? Or are you just avoiding him?”

“He’s getting no better teacher. Hell might be good for you too.”

“What are you talking about you ole coot?”

“I maybe old and sick my dear but I know when a mare is interested in a stallion. And sweetheart you’ve been eyein my grandson the second he arrived here.” I punched his arm which made him groan.  “Didn’t I ever teach you about respect for your elders?” he teased.

“Yes but I counteract that when said elder person decides to be a busybody towards young one doing the ‘disrespecting’.” I teased back to him.  I looked back towards Charles who was finally up on Whiskey but was struggling on trying to keep him calm.  “Alright, but only because if I don’t then Whiskey’s gonna piledrive him to the ground.”

I walked right over to the riding ring and I leaned up against the fence as I could hear Charles say to Whiskey.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. Easy. Just—hold still…..”

“He can sense your uneasiness yah know?” Charles suddenly turned towards me which made Whiskey nicker nervously.

“No offense but I have ridden a horse before, okay?” I raised my brow at his arrogant attitude before he suddenly deflated, “Okay. It was—virtual saddle. And I—don’t remember it being this high.”

“City kids and your fancy tech. You can try to make it as easy as you can or make it seem you’re really doing it but all that crap, doesn’t even come close to what people like us do.” I hopped over the fence and placed my hand on Whiskey’s strong neck and took one of the reins and whispered soothingly. “Easy big guy, steady young buck, steady.”

Whiskey’s nervous pacing soon stopped as his head touched my shoulder and the only thing that moved from him was his tail, whipping every now and then.

“Good boy Whisk. That’s a boy.” I patted his neck before giving it a gentle and soothing stroke.

“So it—it is true.” I heard Charles say.

“What’s true?” he tried to get down with ease but his foot got caught up in the stirrups.  As he tried to wriggle it out, I couldn’t help but softly smile and try to hold in my laughter.

“That you really can talk to the horses.” He said as he finally got himself free.

“Well it’s not really talking. I mean yeah it is but it’s also showing respect. These creatures have been around and helping mankind for literally millennia’s. They gave us speed, power, and companionship in a way. Cowboys in the wild west had no one but their posse, if they had one, and their horses. One thing that mankind seems to forget is how to respect those that have helped us. That’s why I always treat any horse of Stoney’s with respect and dignity.”

“But—aren’t they just animals?”

“Just because they’re animals doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings too.” I sassed at him. The two of us stared at each other as I unhooked Whiskey’s saddle. “Your grandad wants me to help you learn how to ride. So be ready tomorrow at dawn.”

“Can’t we start after breakfast?”

“No can do Yankee-doo. Besides, I needed to go out hunting anyways for Shuck, might as well give him his winnings before he nags me to next month.”

“Winnings for what?”

“Oh last month he and I had a bet on whether or not Stoney would actually have the guts to go see yah in the city. I bet he wouldn’t, so—you can pick the story from there.”

“Am I supposed to be insulted that you lost a bet because of me?”

“Don’t kid yourself city boy.” I laughed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put Whiskey up before you do anymore further trauma to him.” I took the reigns and led him toward the barn.

“I didn’t—”

“Loosen up Yankee I’m kidding again!” I laughed as I turned my head towards him before grinning and turning my head back to continue to the barn.

The rest of the day was just helping Stoney around the farm and by the time the sunset we all sat around and had dinner before I finally decided to retire for the day.  I showered, brushed my teeth and put my hair up in a bun before finally falling asleep.

Early the next morning as soon as the rooster crowed, I woke up and stretched myself out.  I got on the first pair of clothes I could find before heading downstairs to the kitchen to see Charles asleep on the couch.  I grabbed an empty vase and filled it up with cold water.  I walked over to Charles and shook him.

“Oi get up.” He groaned tiredly and turned away from me.  Okay but don’t say I didn’t give him a chance.  I then dumped water on his face which immediately woke him up.

“What the hell!?”

“Oh good you’re awake. Get up and get dressed.”

“For what?”

“Oh don’t tell me you forgot about our riding lesson.” He groaned again as he almost went back to sleep. “You know I can dump the rest of this water right? Or would you rather have me hogtie you till you scream uncle?”

“Didn’t know you were that kinky.” He teased as he peeked out from underneath his pillow.  I blushed and turned aside before dragging his butt out of the couch.

“Just get dressed and meet me in the stable!” I didn’t once look back at him as I raced outside and ran towards the barn.

I had just finished saddling up Whiskey and now I was saddling up my stallion “Tornado”, a pure black mustang.  Few years back Stoney and I came across him after he had a nasty encounter with a mountain lion.  After chasing the demon cat away, Stoney and I took Tornado to the farm and I stayed with him and healed him up.

Now if I told you it was all trust and immediate connection between us, you’re wrong. Tornado definitely proved himself to be a pure, wild stallion.  Hell if I didn’t know any better I’d say he was the leader of his herd.  He wouldn’t even let me anywhere near him for 3 days till finally his injuries got so bad I feared he was gonna die.

So it was then I stepped in and cleaned out the injected wounds, wrapped him up and stitched him.  Every now and then I gave him peace offerings of apples and water which he gladly took. Weeks passed and he showed great improvement, of course his wild nature still stayed (and of course I was dumb enough to think I could try to ride him, got my ass whooped a few times)

Finally I knew that I wouldn’t be able to ride him so I let him go.  He raced off and never did I think I would see him again.

Until one day seven months after Stoney and I had rescued him; I was out alone scouting for the annual hog trails when the Spratt brothers tried yet another of their failed attempts to flirt with me.  After I had denied them, the youngest and most relentless one Billy got so assertive that he had the nerve to cup a feel of me.  Well I’ll have you know I didn’t take that sitting down, so I gave him a right hook so hard, I heard a crack of his nose.

Pissed and beyond angry that I had the nerve to attack his brother, Owen took me to the edge of the cliff we were on that overlooked the river and he pushed me down off the 10ft cliff.  I fell into the river and was dragged down the rapid miles away from the trail.

As the river overtook me and forced me down underneath its rapid current, I thought I was dead for sure.  But the next thing I see running up along the side of the river was a large black creature. I almost couldn’t believe it myself but I recognized that shape and pure black stallion anywhere, it was him.  The wild mustang.

I watched as it jumped into the river and actually swam after me.  He put himself between me and the rest of the current as I reached out and grabbed onto him.  He then swam with all his might against the current to get us to the shoreline before the river could sweep us away further downstream.

I almost doubted it but Tornado proved to be one strong mustang.  He reached the shore line and got me out of harm’s way. Exhausted from traveling down miles of strong rapids, I collapsed on the river’s edge and instead of him abandoning me. Tornado knelt down and stayed with me till I woke up around nightfall freezing cold.

When he noticed that I had woken up after passing out, he adjusted himself so that I could not climb up onto his back and actually ride him.  He stood up and trotted back the 20 miles back to Stoney’s farm.

Now three years later, Tornado has not left my side.  I saved his life and he repaid me back by saving mine.  After that debt was paid, we had this—incredible bond, and that is something that no one can ever take away from us.

Once I hooked him up I said to him.

“I don’t know Tornado, maybe I’m just going crazy.” He nudged shoulder and gently nibbled the ends of my long hair.  I giggled and shoved him away from my hair.  He nickered at me as he moved his head towards mine so that he and I were staring at each other eye to eye.  My forehead touching his muzzle. “You Mister are as much of a busybody as Stoney is.”

“So, are we doing this or not?” Charles’ voice suddenly rang out.  I backed away from Tornado and I said.

“Well you seem eager.”

“Not really. I just didn’t want to get water dumped on my head again.” I scoffed softly as I grinned.

“Normally I’m a bit easier when it comes to wake up calls. But you’re still not getting the hang of being here on the farm are yah? Here we wake up as the sun rises and go to sleep as soon as it sets. If not for us you wouldn’t have any of those vegetables or fruits. Nor your wooly sweaters at Christmas time, or even the milk and eggs you eat every breakfast.”

“Alright, alright I get it. So—is the black one mine?”

“Not unless you wanna get kicked across the barn. Tornado don’t let anyone but me ride him.”

“Is he picky or just clingy to you?” Tornado huffed at Charles and I saw him stomp his front right hoof in a challenging gesture.  

“Steady Tornado, steady. For your information smartass, he’s a pure bred wild stallion. He’s only ever really trusted me.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s a story for another time. You’ll take Whiskey again, but before we ride; I’m gonna teach you the proper technique on how to mount him cause let’s face it, after yesterday—you’re gonna need it.” I walked up to him and he and I stood beside Whiskey.

I told him the proper way on how to mount a horse on the left side, how to hold the reins and which foot to step onto the stirrup before shifting your weight to fully mount the horse.  I mounted onto Whiskey so that he could properly see how it was done before I got off of him and stood on the right side of him now.

“Okay city kid, your turn. Like I showed you, hold the reins first and foremost before you even think about stepping up.” He took hold of the reins and waited a bit for Whiskey to get used to him before he used his left foot to get on the stirrup.  He counted down softly to himself before finally hauling himself over with ease and as soon as he was on Whiskey, Whisk started acting up again, this time circling around nervously.

“Okay, okay now what—hey, hey what do I do now?”

“Take hold of the reins and even them out. Don’t grip them though. If you hold them too tight, it’ll show Whiskey you’re nervous. Ease and loose.” He did as I told him and Whisky immediately calmed down his nervous circling. “Now with your legs, don’t tuck them inward. Let them come outward. Have you ridden a motorbike or anything?”

“I once went boat racing with some friends of mine one summer.”

“Okay that’s good. You know how you have your legs relaxed and your knees pointed outward?” he nodded. “Do that.” He adjusted his knees and for the first time Whiskey didn’t react at all.

“I did it. I did it!” Charles laughed happily.

“Great kid don’t get cocky yet. You just got on the horse. Now you need to learn to ride.” I grabbed my hunting rifle and wrapped it around my shoulder before I mounted on Tornado and urged him outside with both my right foot and clicking my tongue.

Charles followed awkwardly behind me, I could hear him nervously telling Whisky to slow down.

“Telling him to slow down will only make him speed up. Try not to have your legs kick him every time too, that’s a sign to him that you want to go faster. And keep those reigns even.”

“Maybe we should just give this up. There’s no way I’m ever gonna ride a horse in New York City.” Charles whined.  I stopped Tornado and turned him around and I said to Charles.

“Listen Charles; I know you think this is pointless. But out here, this is life. Best way any of us get around here is through horseback. Not everyone is automatically born a horse rider. We all had to learn, your grandad, Shuck, the Sheriff, even me. Hell I was worse than you were when I first started. But how bout I give you a little piece of advice my teacher gave me.”

“What?”

“He told me ‘(Y/n), life is like a horse itself. Somedays you’ll be riding freely like a bird in the sky. Other days it’ll haul you off and slam you smack down into the ground it’s like all your insides are busted. But it’s up to you to get back on that horse and ride on. Cause if you don’t, then you’re just sitting there in the dirt watching life go by without you. And only the dead need to do that’.” Charles looked at me in awe and he said.

“Damn. That’s—that’s deep.” I nodded. “Who was your teacher?” I smiled softly and said.

“You’re living with him.” We continued onward the trail and didn’t speak another word to each other for a while.

As the day got brighter and the sun moved higher into the sky we finally reached the entrance to the forest trail, the perfect place to get Shuck a deer.

“We’ll tie off the horses here and continue on foot.” I urged Tornado onward closer to the forest.  Charles urged Whiskey behind me, suddenly a bunch of birds suddenly flew out from the bush which startled Whiskey and the next thing I heard was Charles exclaiming as he was knocked off to the ground and Whiskey running into the forest.

I steadied Tornado and got off his back and raced towards Charles and stood over him.

“Can you move?”

“I think so.” I held my hand out to him and he took it.  I helped him up and groaned in pain as he rubbed his head.

“You don’t have a concussion do yah?”

“Yeah, my vision isn’t blurry or anything.”

“Good. Well most likely Whisk ran about several yards into the forest. He usually don’t stay scared for long when something startles him, especially if he finds something to eat.” We walked towards Tornado and I grabbed his reins and we walked into the forest.

Low and behold we soon found Whiskey standing beside a tree eating some grass and wild flowers not even a half mile as soon as we entered the forest.  I walked up to him and grabbed his reins and said to him.

“A bunch of sparrows Whiskey and you go running off like a big fat ninny!” he raised his head and allowed me to tie his reins to the tree.  I whistled for Tornado and he came up to me and allowed me to take the saddle off of him to lighten him up.

“Aren’t you gonna tie him up too?”

“He gets restless is he stays tied up. So I allow him to just roam around a bit whenever I go out hunting or we go for a ride. But he knows to stay close so that he can hear me call out for him when I need him. Like I said, pure blood wild mustang. You can take him out of the wild, but you can’t take the wild out of him.” I took the reins off of him and he happily spat out the metal bars between his teeth and shook his head.

I smiled and stroked up his muzzle as he nickered in gratitude before turning around and trotting off deeper into the woods.  I hung the reins over a thick branch right beside where Whiskey was tied up and took my hunting rifle off my shoulders.  Standing there for a bit I looked around and said.

“This way.” We walked Northeast for about 10 minutes till we finally reached a good rest stop near a small creek where animals would be coming for a drink. Charles and I perched up against a tree and waited.

“So—how did you become part of my grandfather’s farm?” a slight smile came at the corner of my mouth.

“That is a long story.”

“I think we got time.” I adjusted myself to fully turn towards him.

“Your grandad has been with me since all before I was born. My father used to help him out when he was growing up before he met my mom. Sadly when I was born, my mama died. Complications from the birth or something like that. After that, my dad was ruined. He drank—a lot. Then when I was—six, maybe seven my dad got the final strike when he and I got into a car accident when he was drinking and driving. After that, Sheriff put him away and Stoney actually stepped up and took me in.”

“I’m—I’m so sorry (y/n) I……”

“Didn’t know. It’s fine. I…..really don’t like to talk about it much. Never went to see my dad cause let’s be honest he never really was a father to me. I was just a visitor to him. Sometimes he’d get so drunk he’d get confused and just call me ‘little tenant’. So Sheriff did me a solid and I hold no grudge against him. Until I was told when I was 14 that my dad died in prison. I never really cared to ask how he died. But Stoney’s been good to me, as have Shuck and the Sheriff.”

Suddenly the sound of a twig snapping alerted me.  I cocked my gun and raised it up to my eye as I aimed forward towards the shrub.  Only to see a mother deer step out and a second later, her baby.  I lowered the gun and smiled lovingly as the mother deer and her baby walked towards the creek to get a drink.

“Do you—ever miss your mom?” I heard Charles ask.  I looked up at him and that’s when he said, “Sorry stupid question.”

“No it’s not stupid. And yeah. I wish I got to know her, that way I could decide for myself whether we would get along or just end up hating each other.” The reason why I mostly said that was cause I knew how Charles was towards his mom. His face immediately turned to regret as he said.

“Guess I should really rethink about how my mom’s been treating me lately.”

“Take it from me Charlie boy. Never take life for granted, cause you never know when you got something that someone else doesn’t. Be thankful that your mom is still in your life and is doing what she does because she loves you. Yeah it may seem cold at times but that’s tough love. And coming from your grandfather’s bloodline no doubt she’s a Wooly girl, just in a city environment and adapting as the times and laws change.”

It was then we both heard the chittering of squirrels just nearby.  One squirrel had a surprisingly good sized nut all to himself but there was another squirrel slowly creeping up on him wanting to steal it.

“You know if you wanna hear something really stupid. When I was a kid, sometimes I used to commentate on what an animal might be thinking in a situation.”

“Seriously?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah go on laugh it up.”

“No I’m not laughing. I think it’s—kinda cute. What do you imagine those squirrels are saying right now?” I chuckled and said.

“Well the one with the nut is probably saying ‘hmm I lucked out today. Got me a really big nut. This’ll last me till winter time for sure.’ Now the one coming up behind him is saying, ‘that nut will be mine. Bucky always gets the big nuts, well not this time’.” We then watched as the squirrel behind quickly stole the other squirrel’s nut and took off running.

As the squirrel who had the nut previously chased after the thief squirrel I continued to commentate the chase scene.

“Oi Daryl that’s my nut give it back!”

“No way Buck finders keepers!”

“I found it give it back you thieving rodent!” Charles softly laughed hearing my ‘squirrel’ voices as we watched the two squirrels chase each other up and around the tree they were standing near.

Unaware that the mother deer and her fawn had left and that another deer was coming in for a drink.  This time an adult male one.

Charles and I continued to watch the squirrel’s chase each other and I continued my commentary till I stopped when I heard a twig snap.  I turned my head and that’s when the large buck and I met eye to eye.  Slowly and carefully I raised my gun back up to my eye as the buck soon took off running.

“Cover your ears!” I said to Charles as I fired the shot and the buck immediately dropped to the ground mid run.  After a few minutes of it not moving, we walked towards it and I handed him some leather gloves. “Put these on. Never know with bucks, I heard of one case where someone took a 8 pointer buck without gloves and ended up with lime disease.”

I put my gloves on as well and the two of us worked together to carry the 6 pointer buck back towards Whiskey.

After getting him tied onto the Whiskey’s back, I whistled for Tornado and within minutes he came trotting back towards us.

“Hey big guy, have a good time roaming?” he nodded as he nickered happily. “I’ll bet you did. Unfortunately though, we’re gonna have to saddle you back up boy. But we’ve done what we needed to do. Come on boy let’s get you hooked up.” I walked back to get his saddle up ready for travel.  Once he was good and ready, I mounted onto him and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

It was roughly mid afternoon when we were about 3/4th of the way back to Stoney’s farm when I stopped by the river and I said.

“Hey Charles,”

“Yeah?” I got off of Tornado’s back and I said as I grabbed the pail bucket from one of the tacks I had on him, “I just remembered I promised the Sheriff some of Stoney’s fresh river water. Think you can fill this pail up to that I can take it to him?”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Yeah and leave you to watch Tornado? Please he’d snap you like a twig.” Tornado gave a proud huff as Charles submitted.

“Fair enough.” He got off of Whiskey and took the pail from me and jogged towards the river.  As soon as he went down, I smirked and got off of Tornado and whispered into his ear of my devious plan.  I saw Tornado blink one eye at me, like he was winking at me before he silently walked towards Charles.  Oh man was this city kid gonna get a surprise.

Tornado finally stood over Charles and he still had no idea what to expect.  Next thing he would know was something shoving him into the water.  As he fell into the river, I couldn’t help myself from laughing, while Tornado reared up and whinnied what sounded like a laugh.

“Did you tell him to do that?!” I walked towards the river’s edge wiping a tear away.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. You’re just too easy. Here, let me help you.” I reached my hand out for him.  He took my hand before he said.

“No, let me help you.” next thing I knew, I was pulled into the river right next to him. I resurfaced and saw him now laughing at me.  I splashed some water in his face to shut him up and soon it escalated into a water fight between the two of us.  

After our water fight ceased, Charles and I stared at each other exhaustedly.  The way his auburn hair shined under the sun reminded me of the reddish tint that the sunset makes especially during the summer time.  And the way his pale skin gleamed off of the water’s reflection, it was like looking into a fresh pail of milk.  The two of us continued to stare at each other till he finally broke the silence.

“(Y/n)?”

“Uhh—yeah?” I whispered softly.

“Do you……uhh….I mean has anyone t-told you—” he stammered nervously.

“Told me what?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty—”

“So there you two are. I was beginning to think you both decided to hit the trail and take off out of the state line.” We looked up and there on their horses were Stoney and Shuck.

“Sorry Stoney, we were just……” I started off before Stoney once again said.

“No need to explain. We can see what’s going on here.”

“It’s not like that you old coot!”

“Seems our horse whisperer has finally gotten on the horse after all.” Shuck teased. I groaned and got out of the water as Charles followed behind me.

“Here Shuck, I got you yah damned deer. My debt has been paid and now I bid you all adios.” I said as I unhooked the deer from Whiskey and dropped it at Shuck’s horses feet before going on Tornado and riding off back to the ranch.

As the day went on I avoided Charles or anyone for that matter.  I kept myself busy around the farm, caring for the sheep and of course taking care of the horses.  Currently I was brushing Tornado’s mane when I heard the voice of the boy I really didn’t want to hear right now.

“Hey (y/n).” I circled around Tornado to hide my face from him as I kept brushing Tornado.  “Are you really not gonna talk to me anymore? You’ve been avoiding me all day.” I bit my bottom lip as Tornado looked right at me with a slight huff.  He lowered his head and nudged me away from his side before finally nudging me outward so that I now stood in front of him, but also in Charles’ line of sight.

“Damn you stallion.” I muttered to my horse as he bopped his head up and down nickering and whinnying.  I turned towards Charles and I said.

“Okay. You’ve got me now. Now what is it?”

“Well when you talk like that it almost makes me not want to say it at all.” He grouched.

“Well sorry I wasted your time then.”

“What is wrong with you?” I scoffed.  “No seriously, ever since the lake you’ve gone back to the cold-hearted girl that I first met when I came here. Did I do something wrong? Cause I swear I didn’t know Stoney or Shuck would come looking for us.”

“No it’s not something you did per-say.”

“Then what is it? Tell me cause right now I’m completely……”

“I LIKE YOU OKAY!?!?”  There was dead silence in the air.  Charles’s eyes turned from anger to shock in the manner of a second.  His mouth slightly dropped as he just gawked at me.

“You….. you like me?”

“Please don’t make me say it again Charles. I—I’ve never really been interested in any of the boys in this town, but then your grandad drags you here and……I don’t know you made me feel things I’ve never felt before. But I didn’t want to be all smoochy-gooey-goo about it. That’s just real sissy stuff but I—” I was interrupted by feeling Charles grab my arms and shutting me up with a kiss.

I froze right there on the spot for a moment not even believing what was happening till finally I succumbed and kissed him back.  I wrapped my arms around his neck as I felt his wrap around my waist bringing me closer.  After awhile we separated for air, our breaths mixing in together in a warm dance.

“I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry I….I didn’t mean to do that. I mean not the kiss that I mean kiss you so suddenly, I was just….” This time I interrupted him with a kiss. This time, it was much more softer and meaningful.  I separated from him and he whispered. “Your eyes.”

“My what?”

“Back at the lake. I—was going to say you have really pretty eyes.” I smiled happily and leaned my forehead against his.  

“Thank you. No one’s….ever really said that to me.”

“I’m more than happy to say it to you as many times as you want. Hell I’ll say you have a pretty foot if you want me to.” We both laughed and I said through my giggles.

“Please don’t though. I’ll just take the ‘pretty eyes’ compliment.”

“Hate to break it to you angel, but I’m gonna add more cute body parts to compliment.”

“Such as?” he cupped my face in his hands and just stared into my eyes.

“Well I love this pretty nose,” he kissed my nose. “And these pretty cheeks,” he kissed both my cheeks, “Especially when they get red from either the sun or from you blushing.” He teased.  I poked his side which made him curl inward for a brief moment before he continued, “And those pretty lips.” He gave me a soft and ginger kiss. “I especially love your lips. They’re not all poofed up or overly coated with lipstick like the girls have back home. It’s natural, with a hint of cherry chap stick.”

“Farm work can cause chapped lips. And the cherry was the only flavor available when I first started working here. Guess it just kinda stuck.”

“Well I love it, please keep getting that flavor.” I nodded as he leaned in and captured my lips one more time in a passionate kiss.  This time I was now pinned up against the wall and I felt Charles’ hand slowly slid down my side, to my hips and slowly back around.

But before I could feel his hand go any closer towards my butt, that’s when Tornado let off a warning neigh.  Not just any type of neigh, it’s the type of neigh that almost makes a horse sound just like a demon.  Charles immediately backed up as Tornado huffed through his nose and glared at him. I laughed softly and said.

“Oh you mind your own business Tornado. I’ll bet you were way worse with the mares of your herd.” I playfully swatted him with my cowgirl hat and he walked back towards his stable but kept his eyes on Charles.  After locking him up in his stable, I turned back towards my auburn city boy and took his hand and the two of us walked out of the stable together.

“Is he ever gonna warm up to me?”

“After seeing that, probably not. But no worries, I think the only approval you’ve got to face and already gained was your grandad’s and Shuck’s.”

From that day on, Charles and I continued to grow closer and closer with each other.  He slowly improved on his farming skills and dare I say, he went from city boy to Wooly boy in a matter of a few weeks.  Never have I been more proud to call that city kid my boyfriend.

[windpeakofficial]

CAMELIA WINDPEAK || INTO THE WILDWOODS

         -  in which camelia goes on a planned expedition to open up the secrets beyond rovar's gap.

(i wrote this at 2 last night and i am REALLY rusty im sorry lol)

                                                   | ❆ |               [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 10:30 AM || DUNDULL, JORVIK ]                                                    | ❆ |

The sun struggled to shine through the thick, frosted over window panes of Dundull Stables.

Last night had marked one of the first harsh frosts to come this season. Sure, southwestern Jorvik had pretty simple winters, especially compared to the northeastern territories, or Camelia's hometown of Beauvista. Still, however, a chill managed to creep its way through a loose board in the barn - accompanying the sounds of mucking, horses making conversation, and the looming echo of the kitchen's radio playing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland."

As Camelia adjusted the girth of her treeless saddle, she received a calm nudge in her side from Pepper. Turning to face her, she received a face full of mare stare and a snort - causing her to giggle. "Don't you ever like anything on your back?" She chuckled, slipping a light brown bosal over Pepper's ears and mounting.

Before the team knew it, they were already on the way to Mistfall's Ranger camp.

Cam knew that it would only be fair if she brought this specific mount out for the trip into the Wildwoods. Being a retired Jorvik Ranger horse from right here in Dundull, she knew that Pepper would not only appreciate the gesture, but also guide her from years of taking the trails. She had received an invite from Alonso about a month ago, asking if she wanted to come and help out. Happy to oblige, and possibly find a few secrets, she agreed and booked a stall to board in.

                                                     | ❆ |     [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 11:00 AM || MISTFALL RANGER STATION, JORVIK ]                                                      | ❆ |

Coming up the hill to the station, she could already see 4-5 rangers come into view, one of them being a happy, waving Alonso. Though excited to meet everyone, she couldn't help but be apprehensive. How couldn't she be, really, considering that they were going into an area that hadn't been explored for years and she was doing it with none other than a bunch of strangers.

Waving happily, she dismounted and led her mare to the newly-lit campfire. Breathing in the scent of marshmallows, she grinned and introduced herself. Everyone seemed fairly sweet ( except for that Nova chick, no clue what her problem was ) yet something just felt... off. Rowan Allaway - but what really bugged her was the fact that she couldn't figure out why. They were just different, mysterious, confusing.. too much that could be feared, she supposed. They said that they'd "heard things about her" and that if they're true, she'd be useful... Regardless, she dropped the topic once she saw a familiar haflinger and its' rider approaching them.

Rania. That put her at ease. She smiled at her warm greeting, replied happily, and before they knew it they were off.

Cam heard everyone chatter amongst themselves and eachother until she became fairly certain that she was being ignored. She didn't know why, really, but it didn't matter. She had already zoned out - the only thing her subconscious picked up was the rambunctious stories that Rowan was telling and the occasional remark from Alonso, Rania or Yousef. She felt magic teeming stronger and stronger as they got closer to the passage.

"Camelia?" A voice called out, shaking her from her thoughts. "Can you join us for a group picture before we head in?" Rowan beams and her stomach churns uncomfortably. Her mouth twists into a smile.

"Sure, I'd be happy to."

                                                     | ❆ |            [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 11:30 AM || ROVAR'S GAP, JORVIK ]                                                      | ❆ |

Pepper nervously stepped up the hill, ears partially pinned in an uncomfortable listening position. She spooked when Astrid let out a loud gasp, stepping aside a few hoofbeats.

"Sorry everyone, she's a little on edge." Cam apologized "Astrid, is everything okay?"

"It grabbed me! It reached out and GRABBED me!" The ranger practically screamed. Cam's gut did flip-flops. There is definitely magic here. She sensed it.

The rest bickered back and forth, forcing Cam to try and focus back into reality even though her soul was trying to comprehend the magic. "Not now, Cam. Not now" she mumbled, sighing as she watched Yousef gallop away with Astrid and her steed in tow. Rania looked at her quizzically.

"What do you make of all this?" She asked softly, causing Cam to gulp.

"I- think there's a lot more to this place than what meets the eye." She blinked, urging Pepper up the mountain, still bothered by the underlying power.

As the team of two headed near the top of the hill, they fell back. This gave Cam some time to pull out her camera and sneak some photos of the beautiful landscape. Despite the fear factor, it was gorgeous nonetheless. Beauty carved out by the hand of Aideen herself and- what was that Enitan was saying up ahead?

"Enitan, what were you saying?" She trotted up to the group, slipping her camera back into her saddlebag. "Sorry, I was lost in the landscape."

This caused the man to chuckle "The deer, Camelia, it's very special. It watches over the woods." This also caused Tiera to laugh. What was up with awkward laughter today?

"It's a genetic effect called leicism, though sometimes certain environmental elements come into play - like radiation! Enitan, where do you come up with these stories?" She bickered, causing Enitan to sigh and look toward the gap that Rowan was standing in.

Woah.

Cam and Pepper were speechless. Their hearts pounded in an almost perfect sync. This was a large valley with trees that touched the skies. They went on for miles, fresh breeze flowing through with hints of magic. It was stunning. The grasses grew wild, yet kept a manageable length. This place was truly a wonder.

And then it started to pour.

                                                   | ❆ |          [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 12:30 PM || WILDER’S VERGE, JORVIK ]                                                    | ❆ |

Pepper was almost eye to eye with Dellingr, keeping it together only through the bond they shared. One thing she had to say about that horse, he wouldn't leave Rania if his life depended on it. He pranced through the mud, huffing and puffing through the lowering temperatures.

CRACK!

Pepper leapt back what could've been called a foot. She exhaled heavily, watching Shay gallop away without his rider.

Cam blinked, exhaling with the same volume of her horse. She held Pepper's reins tightly and walked carefully toward a dazed Rowan.

"Someone's gotta go after Shay before he hurts himself!" And as soon as you both made eye contact, you knew who it was going to be.

Thunder boomed as Pepper tried her best to find her footing, huffing and puffing, snorting for the horse to calm down. Camelia's eyes blurred from the bitter wind hitting her face. As they neared the steed, the girl stood out of her saddle, leaning toward Shay until she managed to catch his headstall between her fingers, pulling back and letting out a pronounced "HO! EASY!"

The bridle slipped out of her hands, forcing her to find her seat again before Shay came to a sliding stop about twenty-five feet in front of them. Without hesitation, the tattered woman dismounted and began to step toward the panicked horse, humming softly. All of a sudden it was just her, this horse, and the world. She silently thanked Rhiannon for training her in the gift of wind whispering and soul riding in the back of her mind.

She loved the way the magic felt. It coursed through her veins like life blood, and everything felt so loud. Colors were brighter, feelings were stronger, and every sense she had was awake and vibrant. Before she knew it, her hand instinctually stroked his muzzle. She turned around and walked back to the gang, Irish cob in tow.

"Thanks for bringing him back to me, Camelia. He's a real beaut, but he's still learning the ropes." Rowan smiled. Cam felt an exhausted smile bubble to the surface of her mind, tired from the power she used in front of this unknowing, motley crew, but still being careful. Maybe they weren't so bad.

Enitan mumbled to himself "I think this forest doesn't want us here. It seems.. angry." A visible chill ran down his spine, either from the low temperatures or the fact that he was just.. scared.

"Stop getting yourselves all worked up." Rowan sighs "Nature holds no grudges, it only acts on its' own behalf."

Cam performed the most overly exaggerated eyeroll ever, stifling a laugh when she heard Tiera giggle. Nobody said a word and they continued on their hack, though Cam reached over and tapped Enitan on the leg, nodding understandingly at him.

She hadn't really realized this, but the rain had stopped completely. All that she recalled was that she felt the sun beaming on her skin when she was calming Shay. Who knows what happened, really. Magical properties were a fairly large gray area in Jorvik.

                                                         | ❆ | [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 1:00 PM || REDWOOD POINT RANGER STATION, JORVIK ]                                                          | ❆ |

Cam smiled fondly as they reached the abandoned lodge. She could tell this was a really cozy place at one point, though quite frankly, she also figured that there was a 99% chance that there were 1-3 dead people inside. Who knows, though!

Everyone was given their individual tasks, and Cam quickly volunteered to fix the paddock. She had done it several other times when working at other places, and it was quite easy as long as you had a couple nails on hand.

One fence, three fence, brown fence ... brown fence. She was done! She quickly slid her helmet back and wiped some sweat off of her brow. Hearing a twig snap and, assuming it was Pepper, she turned with a friendly greeting.

"Hey, Pepper, I'm done a-"

Oh.

Oh.

It was Enitan's deer.

That had to be what it was.

It had a sleek build covered in vines and glowing blue flowers. At the base of its neck emerged a proud, bright white coat with shiny, hollow looking baby blue eyes that strikingly resembled Rania's. Was it blind?  You know what, that doesn't matter right now.

Cam reached out and slid her hand down its wet nose. The creature sniffed curiously, making her giggle, and galloped off. She let out a delayed flinch and looked over to her mare, as if to confirm "Did that just happen?"

Yes, that just happened. She guessed she would just- go back to the station, then. Wordlessly, she slid onto Pepper's back and trotted back to Rowan and the cabin. As she approached them, they gave her a peculiar look.

"Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." They squinted. Cam internally argued with herself, trying to figure out if she should tell them or not - or rather, if they'd believe her.

"Nope, it's all good. The fence is in tip top shape." She smiled, putting on a facade. This is a discussion to have with Enitan, she decided.

"Alright, well, you should get some rest. You look dog tired." Rowan chuckles warmly. She grimaced internally at the thought of napping at the cabin. Hopefully someone brought something a bit more comfortable than the old sleeping bag she used in her junior year of high school. Nevertheless, she nodded and left to untack Pepper.

                                                        | ❆ | [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 3:45 PM || REDWOOD POINT RANGER STATION, JORVIK ]                                                         | ❆ |

Sighing to herself, Camelia turns Pepper out to pasture with the other horses. Grinning wildly, she watches them bounce and play with each other. The sun is already setting due to the season, so she seeks shelter inside the stable and begins to prepare a stall for her trusty mare. She feels her expression soften and, out of habit, begins to hum the same tune she did earlier.

A stall door closes and she doesn't bother to look, until she hears a familiar voice that could light up a room.

"Cam?" Rania questions "I recognize your humming. Is that you?"

Cam nods instinctually before snapping into reality and correcting herself "Oh! Yes, Rania, it's me. Do you need any help?"

"No," the dark haired girl grins softly "I just had a feeling, you know-"

"A feeling?" Cam blinks. "What kind of feeling?"

"Well, the rangers' exploration is over, but... I've a feeling yours isn't?" Her grin turns into a smile. "I felt what you did with that horse. I might not have been able to see it, but Aideen willing I felt it."

Cam trails off, just saying that the "humming" was merely something she's tried with other wild horses and it seemed to calm them. Rania clearly didn't buy it, but she knew that she could grill Cam on it later.

"Regardless," Rania taps the door of Dellingr's stall "what do you say you and I do a little exploring?"

Cam's face explodes from Rania's contagious grin.

And that's exactly what those two girls did, too. They wandered all over the woodlands with their mounts, taking pictures and describing landmarks.

FIN. 2161 WORDS.

                                                        | ❆ |                 [ 11 / 11 / 2020 || 6:30 PM || WILDWOODS, JORVIK ]                                                         | ❆ |

[himbowelsh]

Hi! I wanted to ask if you could do the Valentine's A-Z thing for Smokey. If you're uninspired, it's totally fine if you don't, though!! :) in case you do, thank you very much!^^

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

He’s a very demonstrative person who’s not shy about his physicality, and most at ease around people who are able to take it; sometimes Smokey can even be thoughtless with touch, because he doles it out so casually. he loves to be touched in return, relishing the reassurance it provides   ---   Smokey’s just not someone who enjoys being alone for too long, so brushing shoulders and wrapping arms around people chases those feelings of loneliness away.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He’s actually very good at picking out just the right bouquet for the occasion! His twin sister has a passion for flowers, so Smokey had to learn, okay?Flowers really aren’t that confusing, once you know how to take care of them. He’s no gardener, but could definitely keep plants alive if he tried.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s a casual fan. While he won’t buy it for himself, if someone gives it as a gift  ---  or a bribe  ---  he’ll gladly accept.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He wants to take something completely casual and turn it into something semi-illegal. Let’s go to the movies and try to break into the projector booth, just to see if it’s possible. Best seats in the house! Let’s see if we can “accidentally” get locked in a department store overnight, and run around bouncing on beds and doing weird things in the dressing rooms. Smokey can make most casual things a lot of fun, but he thrives in situations on just the right side of absurd. He’d love a partner who can liven up even the most mundane date! (And hopefully rein him in from doing anything too wild.) 

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Again  ----  very driven by physical contact, very liberal giving it out. Smokey hugs like it’s going out of style. He rubs people’s backs, claps their shoulders a bit, sometimes blows in their ear to make them jump...  he’s got a different hug for every occasion.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

A very playful flirt, with a collection of pickup lines ranging from inspired to creatively-terrifying.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He thinks he’s great at gift-giving. Plenty of people who’ve received gifts from him would beg to disagree. And beg to be able to return the thing. (“Why the hell do I need a Dick Tracy lunchbox, Smokey, I’m a grown-ass man  ---”)  Always gives his gifts with the utmost confidence, even if it’s not something any sane person would want.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He definitely needs the right incentive, with the right partner...  but that doesn’t take much. Truth is, Smokey falls in love fast. Once he’s in, he’s in, and it’s not easy to shatter his affections.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Gah, he loves saying it. If he’s in the right mood, he’ll say it twenty times in a day, just because he loves hearing it. When it comes to love, he’s very verbally demonstrative, as well as physically. Saying the Three Big Words isn’t a big deal to Smokey, because by the time he says them, he knows he means it   ----   not like there’s any point holding them back. He’ll be the first to say it in a relationship  (and might hold his breath until his partner says it back, but he’s willing to wait all year).

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Nah, not really. He’s a confident guy, and that confidence extends to his partner   ---   he’s fully confident they’d never do anything to hurt him. And...  honestly, Smokey’s got a wide circle of friends who he’s very affectionate with, so seeing the same behavior from his partner wouldn’t raise any red flags for him at all.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Smokey is the world’s biggest tease  ---   a very playful kisser, who enjoys stringing his partner along after him. He loves pulling someone close, his arm wrapping around their back completely, a hand cupping their head; he’ll angle them slightly backwards, leaning into the kiss as his mouth finds a rhythm against their own. Slight grazes of teeth and tongue, just enough to leave them tense in his grasp, eager for more...  and then he’ll pull away with a broad grin on his face, inviting them to come get it. Very into love nips, but will pull unexpectedly tender kisses seemingly out of nowhere.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He’s got a lot of love to give, and when it comes to the people he cares about, Smokey loves fiercely. Probably the most important person in his life is his twin sister, Cleta, who he adores; then his parents; then all his friends, who he’d hide a body for without question; and his family should he ever start one, would immediately move to the top of the list.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He tends to get in a weirdly touchy/romantic mood anywhere around 1 - 3am, aka the hours when any sane person just wants to sleep. He’s tired too, and he knows his partner is, but when the mood strikes...

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Smokey is a very attentive lover. He does not work on instinct; it’s all observation, keeping track of what his partner responds to best. Do they shiver when he nips them here? Groan when his tongue does that right there? Very interesting. He files it all away for later, stocking up an arsenal of how best to drive his partner wild. And what a tease  ---   he’ll bring his partner to the brink, only to pull them right back, so many times that they can actually get angry at him. Fisting a hand in his curls and pulling is a guaranteed way to get him compliant; he’s very sensitive at his hips, and will turn to putty if his partner directs their attentions there. 

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

You know he does, baby, you know he does. One of his favorite hobbies is writing long-winded poems just to troll people, but Smokey has also tried his hand at writing short stories before. Love poetry is very different  ---  much more intimate  ---  but Smokey’s sharp enough to do anything if he puts his mind to it, so he’d give it a shot.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Smokey wants someone with a bright personality   ----   someone who lights up every room, with a quick wit and sharp mind. They don’t need to be a social butterfly, just to entertain him; he likes to be kept on his toes. Someone with a great sense of humor, and a great laugh. Someone who loves to read, because so does he, and they can talk about books for hours; someone who makes good coffee in the mornings, and that’s crucial. Smokey really just needs someone who can bounce off of him, take a joke, and make him smile even when it seems the hardest thing in the world. 

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

If you don’t think this man will plan an elaborate proposal   ---   he’d do the most elaborate thing. He’s probably brainstormed wild proposals long before he even met his partner, just because he figured he’d have to do it someday, and wanted to be ready. Smokey would find some insane way to propose, like on the top of a roller coaster or via skywriting airplane,just to see if he could pull it off. And if it doesn’t, he has no qualms with finding another way, and proposing all over again.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a super romantic heart, and is 100% willing to laugh at his own optimism. That doesn’t make it any less genuine, or make him any less eager to find love.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

His sister went through a phase when she wanted to get married, and poor Smokey was the nearest boy she could rope into playing the Wedding game with her. She got her best dress out, a little bouquet of flowers, forced Smokey to make a ring out of an old bottle cap for her...  then, somehow, a bunch of other neighborhood girls got involved. Smokey ended up with six wives, including his sister. None of them wanted anything to do with him by next week. He’s 90% sure none of those marriages are valid today.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Sure he does! When he meets the right person, Smokey’s determined  ---  that’s going to be it. He’ll be sold. He’ll know them, he’ll love them, and the rest of his life will just be getting to show them. He’s definitely idealized romance in his head, but that’s just because he really wants to fall deeply in love with someone.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Smokey’s not the type to be completely shattered by a failed romance, even if it were one that meant a lot to him. Something like...  losing someone he loves without warning, or having them die too soon...  that’s the sort of thing capable of breaking his heart.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

It’s a fun night, and he’ll spoil his partner any way they want, but he loves using it as an opportunity to come up with dates no one else would think of. Who else would spend Valentine’s Day renting horses to ride, or going to a haunted house?

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes! Please marry him! He wants it bad! He’ll ask a dozen times  ---  once he loves someone, he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with them. Marriage sounds like a dream.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Oh, absolutely! He’ll make lists, just brainstorming as many as he can think of, and leave them lying around the house for his partner to find; he’ll bounce a few off of them, just to see how they’ll work.   (“honeycakes, what are you  ---  no, that doesn’t work, does it?”  // “hey, sugarpuss--” “NOPE.”) Nicknames are a sport for Smokey, and he plays to win.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Smokey has a very short list of people he’d go ride-or-die for. It includes his sister, his mom, a few close friends, and his partner. Once they’re on that list, no one gets to hurt them, ever.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Honestly, it’s all about finding takers. Smokey’s not shy, but wasn’t exactly rolling in girlfriends back home. Overseas, it’s easier. If asked, he’d probably quote a number much higher than the actual amount.

[focsle]

FINALLY, A COOL DREAM THAT WASN’T ME JUST...longingly eating at crowded restaurants.

I had a dream that I had to go to prison for something very stupid i.e. getting too argumentative with someone who didn’t like me, who had the power to have me locked up.

And it was this like, massive Jacobethan building in the middle of the woods that was very imposing and the bathrooms were in like, horse stalls, but once inside it was BONKERS. It was so bizarrely lavish and every room was completely crowded with this wild gothic-period furniture and it was full of like...FUCKING COOL people (of all genders) who were immediately friendly and...they totally did some Crimes but they were just as lavish as the rooms and they were very nice to me. And they seemed very nice to each other too. Like there were clear cliques but there was an...overarching solidarity. The aesthetic of all of it wasn’t marked to a particular historical period but more like if someone took a bunch of Renaissance through to Victorian business and turned the dial up like, 40 notches and made it Evil™.

And everyone seemed to be just...milling around with free rein of the house. People also hung around outside at tables with lanterns and played games and told stories to each other. There wasn’t any kind of security around the building. No fences, no guardhouses. Just the woods. There had been a few official people I ran into outside (role unknown, but people in the prison knew them and referenced them -- you could also tell who were the Official People because they were like...bland and milquetoast-looking and not the cool ass people I kept talking to). I knew there was a Warden who was supposed to see me but there hadn’t been any kind of intake process and there didn’t seem to be any guards present. Like, it was so lax I was carrying a bag of beer I brought in with me (?) around and one of them was like ‘your beer is gonna get warm, put it in the fridge downstairs’. The Fridge Downstairs was also a completely alien concept because I could NOT find my way around.

So I was mostly wandering around this crowded maze-like place trying to figure out where I was supposed to BE. Because like, neat as the building and the people in it were, I was...still incarcerated, which was bad, and I didn’t want to dig a deeper hole for myself. But instead of any official process or warden, I just kept running into and befriending Hot Girls who had been there for a while and knew everything and who were being very supportive and helpful to me but...not actually giving me the lowdown on the place in full. I got the sense that it would be too much information at once for someone who just arrived and they were holding it back for later.

Eventually in my wandering I went up to the third floor and everything completely changed. The floor was completely empty. It was massive but a very closed layout with a bunch of rooms chained together at weird angles. At least five staircases branched off into different landings and led up into different darknesses. The doors that were there were the first closed ones I saw in the house. It looked like a beautiful old building that had started to fall apart, but there were also sections that were unfinished and looked more modern i.e. extension cords running across the floor and such. Like an old house renovation. And it had the coldest, most oppressive feeling. It was the most UTTERLY SINISTER, HATEFUL PLACE and I was deeply curious so I did walk around a bit but I didn’t go into any of the really dark places or any of the doors because the vibe was SO bad.

Eventually I went back downstairs again, where the vibe had a marked palpable difference, ran into one of the All Knowing Hot Girls and mentioned the third floor. And she was just like ‘yeah...it’s really bad up there don’t go up there.’ And I felt like the reason why the guards and the security was were so absent was because they didn’t...have a need to be present, and that whatever was up on the 3rd floor and in the surrounding forest...WAS the real warden and it knew how to control its charge.

AND THEN I WOKE UP! Ugh love an evil house filled with...sexy not-so-evil people.

[artificialqueens]

wild flower, chapter two (shalaska) 2/10 - freyja

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support chapter one got! Thank you so, so much to frey (aka Thorpe) for betaing!! This wouldn’t be where it is without her. I also thought I would share the playlist I made to listen to for inspiration!

Anyway, chapter two: in which Alaska realizes she is a little more than stuck with Sharon.

🌸

“I have acted fearless and independent and I never will regret my course. I would rather be politically buried than be hypocritically immortalized.”

— Davy Crockett

🌸

They ride for what could be minutes or hours in silence, Alaska never taking her eyes off of the horizon even long after the orange blaze surrounding her uncle’s mansion is gone. She barely registers the blessedly cool wind against her face, or how hard she’s gripping the horse’s saddle, deep in thought and very confused.

She’s not scared.

She knows she will be, once she has the time to really comprehend what happened, but for now all she can feel is guilt. Guilt, because her reaction to her uncle’s house burning, after the initial horror, was relief. How could she? Her uncle’s livelihood is gone, her uncle is gone and likely in danger, she’s been kidnapped - likely in order to be tortured for information - and all she can fucking think about is that she doesn’t have to find a husband anymore.

Sharon flicks the reins, and her horse suddenly jerks into a higher speed, forcing Alaska to grab onto Sharon’s waist in fear of falling off and breaking her neck. Sharon cackles at her, and Alaska flushes, embarrassed and suddenly feeling heated. It makes her angry.

Anger feels a hell of a lot better than guilt, and she gives into it without hesitation.

“Fuck you,” she snarls, right into Sharon’s ear.

“Sorry, what was that?” Sharon shouts, voice nearly whipped away by the wind. “‘Thank you?’”

It is entirely plausible, maybe even likely, that Sharon hadn’t heard her. But the presumption - the fucking nerve–

You can’t hear me? Alaska thinks viciously, glaring at the sharp angles of Sharon’s cheekbones. How about now?

She sucks in a deep breath, and she screams straight into Sharon’s ear.

It’s childish, but Alaska has never been afraid of being childish, especially when it gives her such great results.

Sharon jumps, cringing away violently, jerking the reigns and making her horse jerk along with them. For a second, Alaska allows herself to hope that they would slow enough for her to safely jump off of the horse, but Sharon corrects him too quickly for her to even have a second of the time she’d need.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Sharon snaps, her tone a startling contrast to the gentle way she pats the horse’s neck. “What the fuck?”

“Can you hear me now?” Alaska asks, sneering. She relishes in the anger on Sharon’s face, gratified by her ability to take the other woman down a peg, but it fades away too quickly for her liking. Instead, Sharon’s pressed lips turn into a smirk, and she doesn’t even grant Alaska a glance when she says,

“Surprised you didn’t do that back at the house - the lawmen might have heard you in time to help.”

Alaska looks at Sharon incredulously. “Town is three miles from – oh, fuck you!” she grits out, the realization dawning with Sharon’s laughter.

“Don’t you mean thank you?” Sharon shoots back, and Alaska desperately wants to hit her, rage nearly overwhelming her.

“Why - how would I ever thank you?” she snarls. The apathy in Sharon’s expression only makes her blood boil more. She tears her eyes away from the other woman, instead staring stubbornly out at the Rockies. She can feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she curses them. She needs to be strong for this. “You - you kidnapped me, you burned my home, you killed-”

“Your home?” Sharon says sharply.

“Does it matter?” Alaska spits.

“Yes,” Sharon says bluntly. “That wasn’t your fucking home. Don’t accuse me of that. That was the last place you wanted to be - I could see it in your eyes. You were at the stable for a reason.”

Alaska flushes at the reminder of their first meeting, suddenly aware of the way their bodies are pressed together - the way Sharon’s waist feels firm under her arms. She almost pulls away, but her sense of balance forces her to remain attached.

As if reading her mind, Sharon places a hand on Alaska’s wrist, which rests against her ribcage. “Got a good grip?” she says lowly, and Alaska jerks her wrist away, cheeks burning. Sharon laughs, letting go easily, and Alaska replaces her arm with less reluctance than she should have felt.

“I loved it there,” Alaska says petulantly. Sharon ignores her point, hand returning to the reins.

“I saw something else in your eyes as well,” Sharon continues softly, and her tone sparks an uncomfortable squirming in Alaska’s belly, the places she’s touching Sharon too warm. “You want something more.”

“Don’t presume to know what I want,” Alaska says, voice shakier than she would like it to be. She feels seen - exposed.

“You want more than a man, but a man is all a woman’s good for in society,” Sharon says, and a new bitterness colors her normally gleeful laugh. Alaska frowns at it.

“A man is what I need,” Alaska tells her, trying to work her anger back up and failing. She’s falling into Sharon’s intrigue again, fascinated by the mystery of her.

“Not out here,” Sharon says, and her voice is softer than Alaska’s ever heard it. It startles her; frightens her, even.

“I’m not like you,” she says quickly. She resents how close they are.

“Oh,” Sharon says idly. Alaska can just see the edge of her brow quirked up from the angle she’s at. “You’re wrong. I’d say stop lying to me, but I think you’d have to stop lying to yourself first.”

Alaska lapses into silence, unsure of how to respond. She feels raw and vulnerable in a way she didn’t expect to feel in the presence of a bandit.

Sharon doesn’t scare her the way Alaska thinks she should, and she hates her for it.

They spend the rest of the ride in silence.

🌼

Alaska uses the silence to plan her escape, and by the time they start slowing down, sliding off of Sharon’s horse - “Cerrone”, she’d heard Sharon call him - and running immediately upon arrival is out of the question.

They’re over four hours away from Coady, at least half an hour more from the house, and she has no idea where she is. They hadn’t passed any signs, or at least Alaska hadn’t seen them in the dark, and they’ve been weaving through thick pine trees for longer than Alaska could keep track.

She suspects Sharon had avoided roads, or at least stuck to those less traveled, and the fact that she has no real way of knowing is terrifying.

She’d end up lost in the woods if she took off on foot, and probably dead because of it.

The only other option would be escaping on horseback, and that takes a little more forethought than leaping off of Cerrone and running as fast as she can. She needs the time to figure it out, but she doesn’t know if she’ll get it.

Stories of the tortures people go through when kidnapped by bandits crowd her thoughts, the tales concerning women even worse, and she’s just beginning to work herself up back into a panic when Sharon speaks suddenly, snapping Alaska out of her spiral.

“Welcome,” she says, voice warmer than Alaska expects it to be, “to Silverbar Overlook.”

They round a curve in the dirt path to reveal a small camp of about six tents and wagons, a decent fire lit up in the center of it. Women fill the space with talk and hoots of loud laughter, and Alaska can’t help but stare at them as Sharon pulls Cerrone to a stop by some crooked posts. Where are the men?

Sharon swings down with ease, taking Cerrone’s reins and tying him to one of the posts. She smirks at Alaska as she does so, making no attempt to prevent her from running right then and there. Alaska hates that she doesn’t need to.

“Like it?” Sharon says, dusting off her hands. Alaska sneers at her, fear and fury a fire in her stomach.

“No,” she says shortly.

Sharon seems unaffected. “Time makes the heart grow fonder,” she says, holding out a hand for Alaska to take, “and you’ll certainly be spending a lot of it right here.”

Alaska resists the urge to slap the hand away, remembering just in time that Sharon has a gun and the quickest draw she’s ever seen. Instead, she ignores it in favor of sliding down herself, relieved when she lands solidly on both feet.

Sharon grabs her arm none too gently as soon as she’s on the ground, even her arrogance not so hubristic to leave Alaska with both arms free. Even so, she gives Alaska an appreciative glance.

Alaska flushes under her gaze, keeping her eyes stubbornly ahead.

“Went to the stables often?” Sharon questions, and Alaska presses her lips together at the insinuation.

“Fuck off,” she says sharply, and Sharon laughs.

“Jinkx Monsoon!” she calls, not bothering to respond to Alaska. An old affection colors her tone, and a red-headed woman by the fire stands up, grinning.

“Fresh meat?” she asks, approaching them. She’s pale, with sad eyes and a crooked smile. Her hair is down, tangled like Alaska’s gets if she leaves it down for more than two seconds, and she sports loose pants that bunch up where they meet her boots.

“Not quite,” Sharon says, jerking Alaska a little to emphasize her point. “More of a hostage.”

Jinkx frowns, clearly taken aback. “Hostage?” she asks, examining Alaska closely, squinting in the dim light cast over them from the fire. Alaska glares back, meeting her gaze as defiantly as she can muster. Jinkx raises an eyebrow in response. “She’s in with Solomon? She’s in a brand new dress.”

“I am not with him,” Alaska snaps, disturbed at the very idea. “I hate him.”

“Enough to give us the information you have?” Sharon leads, and Alaska presses her lips together.

As much as she hates Solomon, she hates Sharon that much more.

Both of Jinkx’s eyebrows are up, now. “Want me to tie her to the post?” she asks, and Alaska’s stomach drops somewhere around her ankles. Jinkx jerks her head back to a post at the edge of the clearing, where a pile of ropes and a poker in a bucket of water sit. Alaska freezes up at the sight.

“No,” Sharon says, but her eyes don’t leave the post for another moment longer.

“So she is a new recruit,” Jinkx says, and the suggestion sparks the fear in Alaska’s chest into anger.

“I’d rather be tied to the post than a new recruit,” she spits out, and Sharon’s grip tightens around her bicep. She stills, heart pounding.

“No,” Sharon clarifies, ignoring Alaska. Her silent warning is frightening enough, and Alaska has no desire to see how it might escalate. “I don’t tie civilians to the post.”

“She needs to sleep somewhere,” Jinkx says. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t want her unguarded.”

There’s a brief pause. “She’ll have to sleep in a tent,” Sharon says, and Alaska just barely keeps a protest from escaping her lips. Jinkx voices one, anyway.

“In a tent?” Jinkx asks incredulously. “Where people sleep? Where they’re most vulnerable?”

Sharon snaps her fingers, seemingly ignoring Jinkx. “Detox and Roxxxy,” she says.

Jinkx gives her a skeptical look.

“Alaska isn’t a threat,” Sharon says, and Alaska nearly jumps at the sound of her name. She hates the false intimacy that the use creates, and she never wants to hear it said again. Her skin crawls at the idea of Sharon knowing enough about her to use her Christian name. “Detox could break her in half if she wanted to.”

Alaska very much does not want to sleep in Detox and Roxxxy’s tent.

“Why not the post?” Jinkx asks again. She looks worried, and it’s clearly getting on Sharon’s nerves.

“Because I created this camp, and I said so,” she says, an edge creeping in on her tone.

Jinkx is unmoved.

“Jinkxie,” Sharon says, and Alaska glances at her for an expression, unable to read her tone. She seems urgent, pleading, maybe, but it’s hard to decipher.

No matter the expression, however, a silent exchange clearly occurs between the two, and Jinkx’s expression softens. She looks at Alaska, who sneers.

“I’ll take her to their tent,” Jinkx says after a moment. She looks back at Sharon. “Willam wants to see you. Something about a letter?”

“Shit,” Sharon swears, and she lets go of Alaska’s arm. Alaska nearly takes off immediately, but she stops herself, eyes catching on the gun slung at Jinkx’s hip and thoughts returning to Sharon’s own. She’d have to be patient, even though she’s never been good at it.

“I completely forgot about that,” Sharon continues, although it sounds like it’s more to herself than the other two. She looks somewhere to their right, and Alaska follows her gaze, spotting a young blonde woman in a low cut dress giving Sharon the finger, leaning against the post of one of the tents. Sharon looks back at Alaska, lips pressed together, and Alaska quirks an eyebrow.

“See something you like?” Alaska says, and Sharon’s eyebrows raise. She pointedly glances at Alaska’s arm, where she had been holding her.

“I do,” she says, and Alaska flushes. She grits her teeth, frustrated with the way Sharon can render her speechless. Sharon’s smug smirk isn’t helping matters.

“Alright, take her to Detox and Roxxxy. Make sure they know what’s going on,” a thoughtful look at Alaska, “and make sure they know they need to be on watch.”

Alaska tries and fails not to be flattered that she warrants a watch, even though it makes her plans for escape that much more difficult.

“Got it,” Jinkx says, and with a nod - Sharon leaves, heading towards who must be Willam with a sheepish grin on her face. The expression would be endearing, if she hadn’t just kidnapped Alaska after destroying her uncle’s life.

“So,” Jinkx says, smiling startlingly sweetly at Alaska. Alaska doesn’t quite know what to do with the sudden change of pace. “What do you think of the camp?”

Alaska gives her a deadpan stare. “It’s dirty,” she drawls, feeling more confident with Sharon’s absence. She feels above this woman, with her short stature and sweet smile, and it’s easy to let that leak into her tone. “Small.”

Jinkx’s smile shrinks, fading into something that screams ‘unimpressed’. “You’d think a wealthy woman would have better manners,” she says, and Alaska blushes a little.

“Ladies don’t initiate,” she says, willing the blush to go down. “They reciprocate.”

Jinkx is quiet for a moment, expression sympathetic. “Jesus. I’m glad I’m away from that.”

Alaska falls silent, something like shame turning over in her gut. She’s thought the same thing before, but only in her fantasies, and not for a long time. The reminder of her own lack of freedom, compared to these women’s abundance of it, is startling - it’s something that she hasn’t thought about in years. The disparity is embarrassing, and for a moment, Alaska wonders what right she has to feel superior to these women. What is money when compared to freedom?

She tries to scrape the idea away from her mind, reminding herself that the law is powerful, that it isn’t freedom when you’re being chased, but the thought sticks like glue.

“Come on,” Jinkx says after a few moments, frowning at Alaska. “It’s just over here.”

Alaska follows her quietly, still a little shaken, and Jinkx looks back at her with a strange expression on her face. “Alright,” she says. “Maybe Sharon has a reason for treating you special.”

“You mean she doesn’t do this often?” Alaska asks. Jinkx laughs, a soft sound that fits strangely on someone deemed a criminal. They come to a stop in front of a tent, but Alaska hardly notices, she’s so wrapped up in the conversation.

“Let’s just say, she must like you. Sharon’s had no trouble tying people to that post, even in the middle of winter.”

“No,” Alaska says, rejecting the idea with a vehemence that surprises even her. “She’s trying to entice the information out of me, and it isn’t going to work.”

“The day Sharon Needles chooses enticement over violence is the day pigs fly,” a new voice says, and Alaska immediately tenses up, phantom aches blossoming along her arms where they’d been held back.

Detox emerges from her tent, an amused quirk to her mouth, and the blonde woman who’d slid in through the window during the ambush comes out after her. This must be Roxxxy, but Alaska is far more concerned with Detox.

“Guess you’d better get your binoculars ready,” Jinkx says dryly. “Because they’ll be taking to the skies any second now.”

Detox looks at her, confused. “What?”

Jinkx lets out an exasperated breath, placing a hand on Alaska’s back in a reassuring manner. It doesn’t work, and Alaska shrugs it off as quickly as she can. “She’s sleeping in your tent tonight. Please don’t ask me why.”

Detox looks even more bewildered, but she doesn’t protest, which Alaska supposes is a good thing. Or maybe not - maybe she could have ended up in someone else’s tent if Detox had thrown a fit, someone with warmer eyes. That, or someone much worse.

Most things, Alaska is realizing, are going to be a game of roulette. She’s just going to have to roll with the punches, because gambling has never been her strong suit, and now is certainly not the time to be practicing.

“Alright,” Detox says slowly, and Jinkx relaxes into a smile.

“Thank you,” she says, eyes darting to Roxxxy, “for not being difficult.”

The expression on Roxxxy’s face suggests she spoke too soon.

“Why not the post?” she asks, clearly annoyed.

“I don’t know,” Jinkx says, and Alaska can hear the suppressed frustration and exhaustion in her voice. “Sharon doesn’t like to share, and despite popular belief, I can’t actually read her mind.”

“Try,” Roxxxy shoots back. “You know her better than anyone else here.” She makes no attempt to hide the bitterness underlying the words. Detox shoots her a look, but Roxxxy appears not to notice.

Alaska finds herself wanting Jinkx to come back just as quickly, to put up a fight, but the slump of Jinkx’s shoulders tells her that she’d rather avoid it. “Maybe she wants to try enticement and see if it works better.”

“Sharon’s never needed to cajole anything out of anyone.”

“Jesus,” Alaska blurts out, frustrated and defensive. “Maybe she just isn’t up for beating the shit out of anyone today. It must be exhausting work.”

All three women stare at her, and she shrinks down, suddenly afraid. Years in society have taught her to only speak when spoken to, and while she’s always chafed under that rule, the potential consequence for breaking it has never been quite so high. She shouldn’t be snapping at bandits like this - especially in the company of three, all with loaded pistols.

Detox’s delayed scream of a laugh makes her jump three feet into the air.

“Jesus Christ!” she says, and the other two women crack smiles as well. “She’s got nerve for a hostage!”

“A hostage sleeping like she’s one of us,” Roxxxy corrects, a tinge of the argument still there, despite the smile on her face.

“She’s sleeping here,” Jinkx says. She’s looking at Alaska thoughtfully, something twinkling in her eyes, and Alaska relaxes despite it. She’s still in the clear, somehow. “But just so you know, Ms. Needles usually waits a few days before really going in on ‘em.”

“She’s patient,” Detox agrees. It’s lighthearted, but Alaska still spares a glance at the post, eyes lingering on the poker stick. Clearly, Sharon’s patience runs out. She doesn’t know if the fact that she’s patient at all is really that comforting.

“I’m tired and I’m going to bed,” Jinkx says. “Sharon wants you two to take turns watching her.” Detox nods. Jinkx turns to leave, giving Alaska a reassuring smile. “Have fun,” she says, ominous, and she starts off towards Sharon and Willam, who can be seen just inside of the tent Willam had been waiting in.

Alaska is sorry to watch her leave, not quite understanding the comfort she’d provided until she was gone.

“I think you should lie between us,” Detox says, glancing at Roxxxy, who only looks slightly less sullen from her argument with Jinkx. “Makes watching you easier.”

Alaska nods, heart sinking at the idea. She feels like all of her confidence left with Jinkx, and her plan to escape feels impossible to execute. With each of them taking watch, and having to sneak out from between them, it seems improbable that she can leave the tent without detection. And if she was caught - she knows how strong Detox is, and Roxxxy certainly hasn’t proved herself to be friendly.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Roxxxy says, ducking into the tent. Detox motions for Alaska to follow, and she does, after a moment of hesitation. “I’m not tired yet.”

As Alaska lays down, she steels herself. She has to make an attempt, all of the risks be damned. She owes it to her uncle.

She owes it to herself.

🌸

Roxxxy falls asleep two hours after they all lie down, and it’s like the universe is telling Alaska to get the hell out of there.

It’s been a struggle not to do the same herself - it has to be around three in the morning by now, give or take a few, and she is exhausted.

She takes a moment to just stare at the roof of the tent, feeling all of the aches and pains of the night throb. Her first meeting with Sharon feels like it was weeks ago, not hours, and Cassidy’s visit to her uncle even further away. She almost doesn’t want to get up, heart and head heavy with exhaustion.

But she has to.

She understands fully well that this is, truly, her only shot at getting out of this unscathed. By some miracle, Sharon had been foolish enough to leave her loose, taking her lack of physical strength as a sign of weakness, as a sign that she wouldn’t run. But Alaska has always been wily, and she can snake her way out of most things.

Most things were usually balls and formal dinners with suitors, but she’s pretty sure she can get out of being the hostage of bandits just as easily.

Again: she has to.

Detox is snoring, so Alaska’s watching Roxxxy’s face for any signs of wakefulness as she slowly gets into a crouch, listening for a change in Detox’s breathing. She’s careful not to knock aside Detox’s pistol, which lies in her loosened grip.

She has no doubts that Detox would be glad to shoot her the moment an excuse was given, and the thought only pumps more adrenaline into her veins. She’s shaky with nerves, and she takes a moment to breathe in and out, eyes on the tent flap not three feet away. She can do this.

Alaska steps daintily over Roxxxy, holding her breath. She freezes once she’s over her, cringing at the light sound her boot makes when it lands.

She waits.

She lets out a long breath after ten seconds pass with no movement, and she takes the last step forward, carefully curling her fingers around the canvas of the tent flap. She lifts it painfully slowly, hardly daring to breathe, and the moment there’s enough room, she shoots out of the tent, exhaling harshly as soon as she’s out.

For a moment, she feels a sort of giddy relief. She made it. She snuck past the guards. For a moment, she fancies herself able to escape from federal prison, but one thought of being in a chain gang brings her back down to Earth.

It’s not like she’ll ever be in a position to escape from federal prison, anyway.

She looks around, looking for the horses and at every single tent, watching for activity. The fire is now just a few glowing embers, so she relies on the Moon to tell her. She doesn’t see anyone, and she allows herself a moment to admonish herself for jumping out of the tent without looking, before she starts towards the horses, which are hitched near the mouth of the path into the camp.

Maybe she’ll even ride away on Cerrone, and take something from Sharon in her escape. Convinced of this plan, her heart starts beating with anticipation, and she’s about halfway to the first of the horses when a voice makes her heart stop in her chest, and the rest of her freezes along with it.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Alaska says, and without thinking, she starts to run towards the horses, all thoughts of Cerrone flying off the table and the first horse she can grab her only destination.

She barely makes it two steps before Sharon jerks her back by the bustle of her dress, and Alaska realizes just how strong the other woman is. It would be frightening, except she’s more used to Sharon than she has any right to be in this amount of time, and she has just heard a ripping sound.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alaska hisses, jerking away from Sharon and turning to face her. She backs up a few steps, drinking in Sharon’s surprise. “This dress is pink satin. Do you understand what that means?”

There’s a beat of silence, before Sharon lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I had to stop you somehow,” she says. “The information you have is a little more valuable to me than pink satin.”

“Well, now that you’ve ripped it, sure,” Alaska sniffs, fingering the fabric. “It was my favorite, too.”

“It’s a dress,” Sharon says, exasperated, and something in Alaska snaps.

“It’s the only thing I have left!” she cries out, clenching her hands in her skirt, arms stiff at her sides. She feels a strange sense of loss over the dress, even though the skirt is still functional and, in all likelihood - easily mendable. It feels like Sharon’s just ruined the last thing tying her to her home, her life, and it’s maddening.

“Fine,” Sharon says, voice now quiet. “Fine. But the information is still more important.”

“Two more of these dresses and I guarantee they’d be worth more than Solomon’s entire operation,” Alaska shoots back. “You could have had more if you hadn’t burned the rest.”

“It’s more personal than money,” Sharon says, and Alaska frowns.

“What’s the point of ‘personal’ if there’s no money in it?”

Sharon laughs again. “You are so goddamn suited for this!” she says, and Alaska feels her chest warm at the praise before she shuts it down, confused at the feeling.

“I’m not,” she snaps. “I’m meant for a life worth living.”

“What?” Sharon says dryly. “Like marrying a man you feel nothing for and spending the rest of your life kept somewhere you don’t want to be? You want to die having accomplished nothing other than a couple of kids?”

It’s like she’s been stripped naked, all of her thoughts and feelings seen by someone she doesn’t trust, and it makes anger well up inside her like a balloon. “Don’t act like you know what my life is like,” Alaska snarls. “Don’t act like–”

“Alaska,” Sharon says, and Alaska deflates.

“Of course I don’t want that,” she admits, and it’s simultaneously a relief and an effort. Baring herself to a criminal is hard, but letting her feelings out into the open is so incredibly freeing. It’s addictive, and she finds herself sharing more, nearly tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. “I’ve never wanted that. But it’s necessary. My father - he needs me. His newspaper is struggling. We need money.”

“And marriage is the only way to get it,” Sharon finishes, and Alaska stares at her, fighting back the lump of tears that has lodged itself in her throat.

“He needs me to do this,” Alaska says, Sharon’s sympathy giving her hope of release, but Sharon’s expression hardens.

“He can get himself out of his own mess.”

“I’m his daughter.”

“Being a daughter has nothing to do with it,” Sharon sneers, and Alaska stiffens defensively.

“Being a daughter has plenty to do with it,” she snaps. “I have duties I need to uphold. I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t you see?” Sharon says, eyes earnest. It’s attractive, and despite herself, Alaska finds herself listening rapturously to the passion in her voice. “You don’t need to do anything. This is a choice.” She spreads her arms at the camp, at herself. “Be here, with us. We don’t - society hates us. Society favors white men, and the rest of us are just there to make life better for them. We can be who we want out here. You don’t have to marry a man you don’t want to. You don’t have to be with a man at all.”

Alaska hesitates, allowing herself a second to imagine a world without responsibilities, without rules or eyes that watch her every move. It’s a dream.

It doesn’t exist.

Sharon is lying. To make it seem like an easy option isn’t fair - to be ‘free’ comes with a cost, and Alaska isn’t willing to pay it. Not when it involves taking money, taking lives.

“Fuck you,” Alaska says venomously, and she spits on the ground. “You’re full of shit, and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Clearly, this is the wrong thing to say.

“I’m sure I will,” Sharon says coldly, expression suddenly closed off. The reaction knocks Alaska off balance - she had expected another smart comment, somewhere on the edge of playfulness, but Sharon had clearly taken Alaska’s words to heart. Alaska knows she should be glad that her words have finally had an effect, but all she can feel is guilt. It’s not something she wants to be feeling, but her emotions have never bothered to listen to her.

“I’m sure I will,” Sharon says again, drawing herself up to her full height. She’s still shorter than Alaska by a good few inches, but she still manages to look intimidating, with her long black coat and mean expression. “But I think you should take a turn first.”

“What?” Alaska asks, and then suddenly Sharon has both of her arms twisted behind her back in an iron grip, frog marching her clear to the other side of camp. Alaska stumbles with the forcefulness of it, startled into silence up until she catches sight of the post, a coil of rope waiting innocuously beside it.

“Fuck,” she says, trying and failing to struggle out of Sharon’s grip as they reach their destination. Sharon slams her against the pole, pulling her arms to the other side of it, but Alaska can’t help but notice that it’s not nearly as violent as she’s sure Sharon is capable of. “Sharon–”

“You want to be the unwilling hostage?” Sharon asks, tone heated. “Here you go. Now you can tell everyone how evil we were, and you won’t even have to lie about it.” She finishes tying Alaska’s hands with the rope, tightening it aggressively. She rounds the post to look Alaska in the face, lips pressed tightly together. Alaska glares back.

“Thanks,” she drawls, giving her wrists an experimental tug. “I won’t even have to fake the rope burns.”

Sharon’s expression falters, looking vaguely concerned, before the wall goes up again. Alaska wants to poke at it, intrigued, but Sharon suddenly leans forward, resting her hand against the post just above Alaska’s shoulder. It puts their faces far too close together, and Alaska’s heart starts beating a little faster.

Sharon doesn’t hesitate to look Alaska straight in the eyes, and Alaska glares back, refusing to back down.

“Give me the information, and I’ll let you go,” Sharon says, and Alaska keeps her mouth stubbornly shut, staring definitely into Sharon’s eyes. She does not think about how blue they look in the moonlight.

Sharon presses her lips together in annoyance. “Have a nice night,” she says coolly, turning to walk away and disappearing into the tent nearest the post.

Alaska sinks down into a sitting position, all of the tension in her body leaving along with Sharon. She gives the ropes one more tug before sighing, defeated. At least it’s a pleasant night, she thinks, staring up at the stars.

She feels her face crumple, exhaustion and fear catching up to her all at once, and she lets out a sob before stopping herself from crying any more, concerned that Sharon might hear her. She has to toughen up if she wants to get through this. Crying isn’t going to help her.

She needs a plan. She can’t outsmart Sharon, and that means she can’t escape. She’s going to have to give them the information she has at some point, before things escalate more than they have. Sharon has proven herself to be somewhat volatile, and capable of treating Alaska as less than a civilian, despite her previous reluctance. Alaska doesn’t want to push her into treating her as an enemy.

The thing is, if she gives away her information, she gives away her only protection. She doesn’t trust the welcoming hand Sharon had extended her before - she doesn’t even know if it’s still extended. The situation feels hopeless.

She’s going to have to think of something, though.

The thought is an exhausting one, and she decides that she’ll think of it in the morning, after a few hours of rest. She doubts anything she comes up with in this state will be viable, anyway.

She wills herself into an uneasy, much needed sleep, the pole hard against her back, and the mud soaking into her skirts. She tries not to mind - the dress is already ruined. It’s better than sleeping next to Detox and Roxxxy, at any rate.

She never thought she’d long for her uncle’s mansion, but there’s a first time for everything.