#tombstone trance

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

how do people watch tombstone (1993) and act normal abt it

like

'oh yeah im gonna watch this cowboy movie full of amazing actors and not catch a blorbo or four'

like. ... that happens??? dude i was in a trance the first and second time i watched it. went from liking kurt to liking val + all three brothers. no way ppl r normal abt this movie in any way

[vaaaaaiolet]

Why choose between riding a cowboy, a stallion, or an Italian when you can have all three? In which you find competition for the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost in the American West.

mdni holy shit. f / m, shameless smut just like pure filth. p in v, wild west au, TONS of christian imagery via metaphor??, mild praise + size kink, leon's a tease as usual

word count: 1.69k <3 // read on ao3

a/n: re6 leon turns my brain into illiterate mush and this is the proof. i wrote this 1 word an hour. i couldn't cope. ignore the half assed banner, half assed writing, half assed everything. listen to nessa barrett's song from the title. god bless you all.

God makes no mistakes: you’re on your knees in the back of an Arizona saloon, but you’re not exactly praying thanks. God is a vision in dirty blond as far as you’re concerned. How’d you end up here?

Enter Leon Kennedy: outlaw on the run.

He hadn’t gotten the memo when angels started coming down to Earth and wanted to give you the warm welcome you deserve. 

“Seriously?” You laugh; swirl your watered-down whiskey.

“I’ve always wanted to try that one out,” Leon grins. Cocky and magnetic, he takes your hand in his own calloused one and guides you to the dance floor. “But you haven’t seen my real trick yet.”

“And what’s that?”

“This.”

Every other beat of your heart finds you in a dizzying dip over the floor as Leon leads you in a dance akin to gunfights in Tombstone, except Leon is more than O.K. at what he does. He’s got you in a trance with his hands spanning your waist.

Sucking in dust and his woodsmoke cologne, you gasp, “Where’d you learn how to dance like that?”

“You’ve never been danced properly before?” Leon laughs. He spins you like you’re the moon.

“Not like this!”

“Oh darlin’, you don’t learn by talkin’ about it. Keep dancing and you’ll figure it out.”

Figure out a two-step you might not have, but you can figure just fine what Leon means when his hand slips up the hem of your blouse. A hungry thumb soon lines your brassiere right under the nose of the barkeep. 

“You’re crass, Leon,” you whisper.

“Is that a no? I’ll treat you right if you let me.”

God expects his servants to give and take, and you’ve done a lot of taking so far, no? You’ve been a little down on your luck lately. Can’t afford to tempt fate that way. So you pull Leon down by the collar, whisper back with your lips lined in devil red, “Make it my treat?”

His smirk glimmers in the dark. “Lead the way, doll.”

Quickly, quickly. Miracles disappear in the blink of an eye and Leon needs to take you before you can disappear into the night. Rope-toughened fingertips fly down your lined blouse, slip the silk off to unveil your sun-freckled shoulders behind the barkeep’s storage door. You’ve spirited Leon away for twenty minutes at best before the saloon closes and the workers come barging in. You’ve got to pay penance for this, haven’t you?

You sink to your knees. 

Leon hooks his hands under your thighs and sits you right back up on a crate, and gets down on his knees.

What.

You’re running on borrowed time, you can’t afford tweaks to this arrangement. “I thought we had a deal?” you scowl. 

But you forget God makes no mistakes. Leon is his creation, so causation, correlation, you do the math. Your anger dissipates at the first swipe of his thumb over your clothed slit. Wetness blooms at his touch, and Leon chuckles as your breath shudders. Genesis.

“Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to let a lady do all the work.” He kisses the spot between your legs, looks up at you with eyes of oasis blue. “You know I take the lead.”

Your chest heaves. “I do.”

“I’m good at it.”

“...You are.”

"And I know this isn't your style. All I ask is that you let me earn my keep.”

Well, that goes without saying. And so Leon flips the script. 

He starts lining burning kisses down your thigh, entices you with an “Open for me”, sighs dreamily when your legs part of their own accord. A previously bothersome, soaked scrap of lace falls at Leon’s feet. 

“Oh, baby, you should’ve asked next time. Look at this mess. Wouldn’t’ve needed to be so quick, then.”

Try and look down, but Leon’s already latched his warm mouth onto your clit, sucking like it’s a Tootsie pop. You throw your head back in ecstasy. 

Waves of feel-good wash over you in all the colors of a pinkening sunset, gold at the edges and red hot at the center, your own overflowing with slick as Leon dips his tongue inside – oh, oh, oh, swirling the colors with each revolution around your sensitive pearl. Your thighs threaten to clamp around his head. He keeps you pliant, capping your knees with rough palms.

“Leon…” you can’t help but whine. 

“Just workin’ ya a bit. Think you’ve had enough?” you hear him groan from underneath.

You’re barely breathing. “Need…need more.”

“Don’t seem that way to me from here. God, you’re gorgeous.” Leon croons, sucking a tender bite a little ways from where you need him most, over the softest part of your inner thigh. A landmark so he can hope to find his way back. He taps your knee. “Time?”

The dusty clock on the barkeep’s desk reads ten minutes to twelve; you relay this with difficulty as Leon does his damnedest to render you incapable of speech. He hums, considering. The vibration shoots right up your core.

“I’ve been in tighter spots,” he eventually decides, shooting you a lopsided grin as he hefts you higher on the crate you’ve practically melted off the side of, “No offense, doll.”

You’d laugh if you weren’t so close. “Low-hanging fruit, Leon.”

“You taste sweeter nohow.”

Missing his mouth already, you pull him back into a kiss. His leather belt clinks in time with the glasses back inside the bar as he unbuckles it, and you take the time to appreciate how you’re level with him even perched atop a crate. Leon’s got height on you. 

Inches where it matters, too. His cock bucks in his hand when it finally springs free, and you bat your lashes up at him ‘cause it seems Leon’s been keeping secrets. He’s thick, ruddy and leaking, got a halo over the head of his dick in the light that creeps in from under the door, and you make a prayer to put your mouth on him if you cross paths once more. Your fingers barely go all the way around.

“Make a deal with me, cowboy,” you breathe. “I let you have your fun. Now, you let me.”

Leon cocks a brow. He’s antsy, understandably so. “What’s that entail?”  

Plywood burns the back of your jean skirt as you slide off the crate, Leon watching as you shuck off the denim, pool it underneath your feet. You reel him in by the collar just to shove him onto the barkeep’s high-backed chair. Leon’s eyes widen when your thighs bracket his and everything suddenly makes sense as you center your cunt tantalizingly over his painfully erect length. 

He’s rasping, needy. “This what you had in mind?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“You sure?”

You scoff haughtily, dragging a smile from him that’s all lynx. “Your wish is my command, miss.” 

Palms start gliding up your torso, thumbs rub circles on the undersides of your breasts. Leon’s collarbones collect moonlight streaming in from the open window and you want to lap it all up like milk, but you’re getting distracted. The clock is counting closer to midnight. Adrenaline makes you heady. Maybe you should tell Leon to get a good handle on your hips when you sink down on his dick – point blank. 

All the way to the hilt. 

He takes it in stride as best as he can. “Tight, doll, ah,” he hisses, head bobbing, “so tight. Gonna send me to heaven.” 

You shift your hips experimentally, whimpering at the stretch. You’re a lousy judge of character but an apparently worse judge of size because you have no idea how you’re going to do this. Leon’s thumb reroutes to your navel, North Star that it is, and travels down to wait over your clit. Technically, you’ve still got the lead. Everything’s still. So so still. You’re about to break.

The minute hand ticks.

“Leon, please,” you whimper.

“What’s that, doll?” 

You paw uselessly at his chest. “Need help.”

Leon clicks his tongue in sympathy. It’s hard to get mad at a thing like you no matter how tough you sell yourself. Smart mouth and pretty eyes, bubblegum sweet underneath, something he’s gotta help. Leon’s always been a sucker for the damsel in distress type.

So he calls down a miracle. “I gotcha, sweetheart.” 

You cry out in relief at the lifting sensation of his hands around your hips. This is another dance you’ve yet to learn, it seems. 

“I gotcha.” Leon’s voice is a psalm over the burn of his cock inside you. A familiar thumb sneaks in between where you and he meet; whiskey and mint on his breath intoxicates you when he murmurs, ”Did so good for me, darlin’. Doesn’t feel too great right now, does it?”

You sniffle. “Mm-mm.”

“Gonna let me make it better?”

“Please.”

Leon indulges you. Taking advantage of the slick velvet he’s wrapped in, he glides you up just the tiniest bit, revealing the inch of his length you’ve covered in your arousal. You watch transfixed as he lifts your hips up and down. Baby steps. Stomach flips. You leave him coated in stardust like you’re made of it.

Leon’s in awe. “See that?” 

But you’re too far gone to take notice of anything but the embers in your stomach, seconds away from crumpling onto his chest. You were once sitting proudly upright. The extent of your desire hits like a revelation once your insides finally mold around him, like it was all prophesized, and you can’t tell up from down when Leon starts to piston you on his lap.

Five minutes 'til it’s all over: You’re tender and boneless and about to explode. Leon is relentless. Sweat drips from his brow like holy water. He kicks the barkeep’s chair to barricade the door because you were right, there’s no way you’re making it out here alive.

Your thighs ache with exertion, steering you on their own.

Four minutes: “Can’t take it, Leon!” You’re going under. The flood is no myth.

“Tell me where,” he grits, desperate.

Three. 

You want him to pull up the ladder.

Two.

“Where, doll, where?!”

One.

“Inside.” 

And God, you burn brighter than the sun.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[graveyardcuddles]

Rhapsody - Astarion x GN!Reader one-shot

You and Astarion are ready to embark on a new journey together. You begin by shedding a painful piece of his past.

A/N: I'm brand new to hobby writing, and this is my first ever fic! This was based on something I actually did with my Tav and Astarion in-game.

tags/warnings: sfw, established relationship, gender neutral!reader, nondescript reader, tavstarion (reader is tav), kissing, in-game spoilers, angst, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of Cazador-related trauma, feelings, fluff.

Word count: ~2000

It's a quiet early evening in the Elfsong tavern. The private room you share with your lover is warm, windows shuttered and curtains drawn. As you entered the room, you froze, stopping to admire the sight before you. Astarion was resting in the comfort of your shared bed. Trancing, to be precise. He hadn't been trancing these past few days, and the sight of your silver-haired love resting peacefully filled you with relief. Slowly, you peel off your boots and make your way over to your resting vampire. Your hands and knees sank into the plush of the bed cautiously in an attempt to avoid disturbing his trance. He was roused from it easily. Eventually, you managed to settle your head on the pillow, simply observing him in a rare moment of peace. He lay unnaturally still, chest unmoving, eyelashes resting delicately where his lovely dark circles ran under his eyes. Hair tousled, collar bones just peaking out of where the top buttons of his shirt clasped together. His face was calm, with no trace of tension he usually had during his night terrors. You smiled. Eventually, your lids grew heavy.

It had been only a week since you and your companions had destroyed the world-ending threat of the mindflayer Grand Design. Your little group of unlikely friends were declared Heroes of the Gate. You should be feeling triumphant, but your victory had been bittersweet. Despite taking pride in the fact he had been one of its saviors, Baulder's Gate would always remain host to Astarion's worst memories. Just returning to the city alone was overwhelming for him: facing his old stalking grounds, his siblings, Cazador. Your relationship had only recently evolved into something more after his confession in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. You knew this would be difficult and messy for him, but you were already hopelessly devoted to this beautiful broken man who was finally trusting you with his heart, wholly and freely.

So you took his heart in your hands and held it gently through all his anxieties and fears. Through the sleepless nights, the sobbing, the flashbacks, and phantom pains. All of which only increased as his confrontation with Cazador drew closer, and the promise of power and security that came with ritual became more and more tempting to him. You feared dearly that you were losing him and that your love and pleas for him to see reason wouldn't be enough to stop him. The fear wound itself around you like a bramble, the heartache gnawing away at you daily.

In the end, your worst fears did not come to pass. He rejected the profane power of the ritual in return for freedom with you. In that bloody moment when Astarion finally ended Cazador, you were in awe of him. His glorious spirit and strength. You allowed him to let out over 200 years of grief and rage. Watched closely as he came back to himself. Helped him back to the Elfsong to clean him up and tend to his wounds. Later on that night, after things had settle and he was in the aftermath of his victory, you had asked him what he wanted now that he was free. "You," he had answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It was you that he wanted.

He had taken you to the very soil where his two hundred years of torment had begun and made love to you in that very place as a declaration of his new life and freedom. He cleared away every painful thorn of doubt and fear covering your heart, much like he had cleared the vines growing over his tombstone with his own two hands. The beginning of a new life with you. Sadly, the two of you hardly had time to properly celebrate Cazador's death before returning immediately to securing new allies and calculating battle strategies against Orin, Gortash and finally the Netherbrain's forces themselves. It had all been a whirlwind in which neither you hardly had any time to truly relish in Astarion's new liberation.

You would never forget that horrifying moment the sun had turned on him. It's once gentle warmth that had given him so much comfort on your journey now becoming a burning, searing light. When you found him shortly after, hidden behind some crates, he was still scarred from the light. His face and hands were ashened, pieces of what were once his flesh practically flaking off in cinders. He was panicking, and you tried your best to stay calm for him. You offered him your wrist, reminding him he needed blood to heal. It only seemed to further distraught him. He was just as furious as you expected him to be and more so. Furious that after everything he went through, he was being forced back into the shadows again. Furious at you for pitying him. Furious at Cazador. But most of all, he was furious at himself for having dared to have hoped again. For thinking that just because he had been a very good boy and helped to save the world that the gods or fate or anyone would take pity on him and grant him this one thing. But no.

He sat there on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest. He had yelled so much about how foolish he had been to expect any outcome other than this, you half-expected his voice to give out. Eventually, he went quiet for a few long minutes before looking up at you, his beautiful red eyes full of sorrow. He tried to smile at you, but it broke off into a scoff.

"I'm never going to see you in the sunlight again."

He let out a long laugh full of bitterness before pressing his face back into his knees and breaking into a sob. It was then that you closed the gap between you two, holding him as wept. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to take him by the shoulders and swear a paladin's oath to him personally that he WOULD walk in the sun again. That you were making it your life's mission. But you knew that wouldn't help him now. It wouldn't lessen the sting. It wouldn't soften the blow. Right now, he needed to mourn, and so mourn you let him.

You held him there and let him weep in your arms. When you offered him your blood again, he finally accepted, drinking in your healing essence and regenerating the scorched skin and flesh. You caressed the newly healed skin softly, kissing it with tenderness and reassuring him that he looked good as new. Later on that same evening, after you managed to make it back to Elfsong with him and were together in bed, he took your hand in his.

"I want to apologize, darling," You were confused, but he continued. "I acted abhorrent to you in a moment of weakness. I was so... angry about what I had lost. I was blind to what I still had in front of me."

He cupped your face, stroking the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Your sweet vampire. You took his hand and kissed his knuckles one by one. You reassured him that he had nothing to apologize for. The sun was one of the few pleasantries from his mortality that he could relish in again while tadpoled. The caress of its rays had become synonymous with freedom itself for him. And with the new love between you two. To have that ripped away would make anyone angry.

It was then that you told him that you WOULD help him find a way to walk in sunlight again. He had been surprised to hear you say so, as if he had expected you to write it off entirely as an impossibility, as he already had. But your words seemed to spark a new sense of hope in him. It was what he said next that took you off guard.

"That is...if this is what you want?" Your heart dropped. Surely he didn't still doubt how you felt about him? "I can understand if you would want to part ways..." Even as he says it, his eyes momentarily drop to the floor, and he sways a bit uneasily.

He is still always expecting the worst. Anticipating more grief. You took his hands gently into yours, telling him that if you thinks you're seriously going to break up with him now after everything you two have been through together, then he's going to have to start being a LOT more annoying. Because he isn't getting rid of you any time soon.

The next several days would be spent together, processing everything you had gone through. Your companions had all gone their seperate ways fairly quickly after a hasty celebration: Wyll and Karlach to Avernus, Lae'zel to war against Vlaakith, Gale to return the Crown to Mystra, Shadowheart with her parents and Halsin with his foundlings. After only a few days, it just you and Astarion left in the city. You had stayed by his side throughout this time, only ever leaving to get food or check on the acquaintances you had made in the city. But you were both growing restless. He appreciated your presence, but you could tell the time was coming for the both of you to move on from this place and make a new adventure for yourselves together.

You hadn't even realized you had fallen asleep until a few hours had passed. As you open your eyes, you see your pale elf has moved from the bed. He's seated on the floor, in front of the chest full of the shared things the two of you have gathered along your journey. You slide off the bed, and he turns his head to smile at you. "There you are," his eyes were a soft shade of carnelian in the warm lamp light. You came to sit by him. He seems concentrated on whatever he's holding. You touch his shoulder and look to see what he's examining. A dagger. Not just any dagger but one that made your blood run nearly as cold as Astarion's. Rhapsody. The dagger Cazador had used to scar his back, and the one which would ultimately end his wretched existence. Nineteen times. Astarion had stabbed Cazador nineteen times. You had counted each stab. Presently, he was turning the blade in his hand with a contemplative expression.

"Hideous, isn't it?" He scoffs. You noted he was taking care to only touch the dagger's ornate hilt and pommel, avoiding touching the actual blade at all.

"Is it..?" You stared at the twin design of the twisting gnarled metal.

"Silver? Naturally. How else is one supposed to permanently scar a vampire?"

You bit back the sympathetic words that were lingering on your tongue, knowing he wouldn't want to hear them now.

"Pretty effective at killing vampires as well, I'd say." You quipped gently. Astarion hummed in response, but his expression remained contemplative.

"Yes. I suppose it might be somewhat useful if we ever get on the wrong side of another vampire," he mused. You lean in closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you pondered the dagger. "True. Could also be useful if Petras ever decides to come around and bother us."

You're almost startled as he throws his head back and barks out a loud laugh. He sets the dagger down as it's obviously lost his attention for the moment. "Darling!" He exclaims. "You were the one who convinced me to save the poor wretch! Twice, in fact! Only to want him dead now? I mean, it's understandable, but clearly, I'm having a bad influence on you."

You couldn't help but smile back. This was the most you had seen him smile or laugh since losing the sun. His laughter was so light and airy it made your heart burst. "Yes, you are such a very bad influence on me, Astarion."

You crawled over to him, eyes locked. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his gaze softens as you asked permission to go further. He answers by giving you a series of playful kisses leading along your jaw from your earlob to your lips. He locks on those lips and deepens his kiss, going slow and taking his time. A deep, passionate kiss. Your hands find their way into his curls, and they twine their way around your fingers loosely. He sighs into the kiss, whole body relaxing into you. When you pull apart, he's smiling, a touch of melancholy still lingering on his features.

"I saw you in my reverie," he says unexpectedly. You listen to him intently as he continues. "We were leaving the Shadow-Cursed Lands after Shar's curse had been lifted. I hadn't seen the sun in weeks, and then there you were, bathed in its light. I hadn't realized until that moment how beautiful you were in sunlight." He smiles sadly and kisses your hand.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze and look him in the eye. "And it's a sight you will see again one day, my love. I promise you." Your arms come around him and hold him close, stroking his hair and simply letting him feel. After a few minutes, he seems to come back to you. "I want to leave this stupid city already," he says plainly. You chuckle and pull away from him. "Me too, my love. We can leave as soon as tomorrow if you'd like."

Astarion's gazes at your travel chest again. He takes out the dagger again, looking at this time with disgust. "And I want to get rid of... this thing," he says with bile in his voice. "It's hideous, just like everything else Cazador ever commissioned. All that damn wealth, and I swear it's like he challenged himself to own the ugliest pieces of art he could." He huffed and shook his head. "I want to throw this damn thing away." An idea came to you. Looking towards the clock, you note there's still a few hours left before sunrise. "Would you like to get rid of it now?" You ask him, careful to only present it as an option. He's still getting used to making big decisions, and you don't want to pressure him. He looks at you. "Gods, yes."

The two of you head out into the warm night air of the city, and Astarion's nose almost immediately wrinkles in offense. "Gods, how have they still not managed to fully get rid of that rotting squid smell? I thought there were clean-up and recovery efforts underway." You roll your eyes. "There have been clean-up and recovery efforts underway, silly. They've gotten rid of all the Mindflayer corpses already. Your nose is just sensitive." Cloaked in night, the many little homes making up the vast reaches of the Outter City light up on the horizon before you. You walk together and tell him all about the acquaintances you've made in the city and how they had been faring after the chaos of the battle.

Eventually, you make your way to your destination: the docks of Baulder's Gate where you had all pulled yourselves ashore after crash-landing the Netherbrain into the sea. Astarion slows down as you walk along the dock. The last time he was running for his life, burning up in the sun. You hoped returning here with him to do this will make for a proper end to your illithid odyssey. At you stop at the dock's end, you take Astarion's hand in yours. You say nothing, waiting on him to make the next move.

He sighs and takes out Rhapsody, giving it a final look. For a moment, you wonder if he might hesitate. He stares at the blade intensely, holding it as if its weight were far greater than it physically was. Two centuries of terror. Without any further warning or fanfare, the dagger is airborne. For a split second, you can just barely make out a tiny glint of moonlight reflecting off the blade as it flew through the air. With a small splash, it's gone forever. Astarion lets out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in. "You monster!" You exclaimed with mock horror. "You just murdered some poor innocent fish!"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Maybe the Hero of the Gate should go and rescue the poor thing." He grabs you around your waist, his newfound vampiric strength catching you off-guard. He spins you around as if he means to literally throw you off the dock, and while you're fairly certain he's joking, you panic nonetheless. You let out a high-pitched "ASTARION!" that practically comes out as a shriek.

He's giggling like a madman as he sets you down, holding your shoulders for a moment to steady you. "You're lucky I love you as much as I do, you know," you mutter as he continues to laugh at how easily he can tease you. "You're adorable when you pretend to be annoyed with me," he says. The two of you sit on the dock together for a long while, holding hands and simply taking in the starlight dancing on the water. "There's something else I wanted to discard as well, actually." He reaches into his pocket and produces two rings that you recognize as the twin Szarr family rings you had used to unlock your way through Cazador's mansion.

Astarion contenplates the rings in his palm. "You know I..." the words catch in his throat, seemingly paralyzed. You wait for him to continue, and after a few moments, he shakes his head, a smile barely perceptible.

"It's nothing, my dear. You know Cazador really did have the most hideous taste in things, including jewelry. Can you imagine wearing these? Ugh." You take one of the rings and examine it. "Hmm. Not my style, I'll be honest."

"That's because you're not blind, darling." He stands up and prepares to throw it.

"Together?"

"Together."

[jjkamochoso]

Feel the Rain on Your Skin

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Feitan shares his umbrella—and sweet sentiments—with you!

Warnings: mentions of death; a bit macabre but more along gothic vibes

You heard the steady drip of rainfall pound against the roof, your stomach churning with excitement. Gloomy days held a special place in your heart and you couldn’t pass up the perfect opportunity to submit yourself to the storm brewing outdoors. You hastily shoved on your boots, foregoing a jacket so you didn’t waste time as you raced outside. The Phantom Troupe had taken up residence in an old abandoned house for the time being and it was by far your favorite place you’ve ever stayed at; having your own room was a luxury you dreaded giving up when you eventually had to move. Your favorite part of the house, though, wasn’t even inside. It was the sprawling backyard, with its towering, gnarled trees, luscious grass, and quiet cemetery holding the tombstones of the previous owners and their family members, that made this place so special. The wet atmosphere assaulted all of your senses in an instant and you couldn’t have been happier. You spun around, throwing your head back in delight as heavy droplets made contact with your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. You made your way to the cemetery after you got your energy out, wanting to enjoy the rest of the rain in a calmer fashion. It was peaceful out there, no doubt about it. There was no one for miles and you relished in the silence as you sank down, the cool tombstone slick underneath you. You admired the gray clouds overhead, behemoths in the sky, until you couldn’t stand the rain hitting your eyes anymore. You quickly closed them and sighed, content in your own serenity. It felt pleasant having the rain soak your hair, face, and clothes; it made you feel alive (ironic as you were sitting among the dead). More rain kept pelting down on you.

Until all of a sudden, it didn’t.

You frowned, your eyes still shut. Did it stop raining? Your eyelids fluttered open and you were met with the sight of your fellow Troupe member Feitan—

And his arm holding his umbrella over you.

“You going to get sick out here,” he said from behind his cowl. “You want to join them?”

He gestured to the graves scattered around you, trembling lightly. It was then you registered just how freezing you were, starting to shiver.

“No. But do you want to join me for a little bit longer?”

You gave him a hopeful smile, your teeth chattering. Gray eyes, the same color as the clouds above, rolled at you but he took a seat next to you anyway, still holding up the umbrella. You knew he wasn’t big on physical touch but the warmth you were getting from his closeness was so addicting that you couldn’t help yourself, leaning into him more than necessary. You waited to hear a scoff or any sign of disgust, but it never came. In fact, you could’ve sworn that he nuzzled into your side further. You sat in silence for a long time, neither of you wanting to interrupt the moment you were sharing, even if you should’ve gone inside many minutes ago. The pitter patter of the rain landing on the umbrella over you was almost trance-like, lulling you into a state of deep relaxation that you had never experienced before.

“It… nice here.”

Feitan, surprisingly, broke the quiet between you first.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “Machi did a great job finding us this place. I wanna stay here for the rest of my life.”

“I mean out here,” he said, looking off into the distance, “with you. It…”

He stopped, trying to find the right word. He spoke out a few phrases in his native tongue, shocking for you a second time in such a short span since he rarely graced you with the chance at hearing it. He always sounded so confident in his first language and you wished that someday you could learn a few words and make him feel less alone.

“It calm,” he finally said, before turning to look at you. “It beautiful.”

Any sense of chill within your bones was immediately extinguished by the burning love flowing through your body for the raven haired man next to you.

You gazed upon him, adoration and sincerity oozing from your irises.

“It truly is,” you whispered, your soft voice competing against the earthly elements raging around you but Feitan heard you loud and clear. He was grateful for the cowl that was hiding the bright red blush on his pale cheeks, opting to focus his attention on the grass as he picked at the long blades with his unoccupied hand. After another several minutes, you stretched out your legs and began standing up. Feitan did the same, moving quick enough to where you didn’t have a millisecond without the umbrella hovering over you.

✨IF YOU’RE OVER LIKE 5’5/1.67 METERS✨:

“I can hold the umbrella so you don’t have to be on your tiptoes,” you told Feitan as you stood, not wanting him to be uncomfortable.

“Tch. Can I trust you no shoot it?” he teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. “We already have dinner. No need for dead birds.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I know what button to not push. I pay attention.”

He relented, holding out the handle for you to grasp.

✨IF YOU’RE UNDER 5’5/1.67 METERS✨:

Feitan still holds the umbrella for you😚

✨BACK TO THE STORY FOR EVERYONE✨:

Before heading back inside, you looked down at the grave you were sitting on. The inscription mentioned the name of a woman who lived there over a hundred years ago, making you gasp slightly.

“That’s amazing that she gets to stay here for good,” you murmured. Feitan glanced down at his own temporary seat, reading the name of a man who also lived there at the same time as the woman. You two had just noticed that the graves were right next to each other, stones practically touching. The pair were married!

“They died on the same day,” you observed.

“Broken hearts,” he said plainly.

“Oh? You’re a romantic, I take it?”

He didn’t say anything but rolled his eyes in exasperation, making you giggle.

“I think it’s sweet to have someone follow you into death like that. That’s true love in my eyes.”

You fell into another comfortable silence, the only sound being the rustling of branches as the wind blew through the leaves.

“Feitan?” you finally said.

He didn’t reply but turned to you, giving his full attention once more and the intensity of his stare made your heart flutter again.

“Thanks. For being out here with me.”

He blinked at you slowly before finally replying. “Of course. I go where you go. Always. Forever.”

“Even to the grave?” you asked sanguinely.

He nodded solemnly. “And in whatever lies beyond death. We together.”

[faust-the-enjoyer]

Penelope

-Tags/warnings: gn!reader, death mention, mentions of minor character death (family), crying, fluff, slight angst?, hurt/comfort.

A/n: ngl i got emotional when i wrote this because goddamn.

-Divider by: @/cafekitsune

"Do you think they liked me?", you ask Keegan sheepishly, you two had just gotten into the car after meeting his family, "Are you kidding me? They loved you baby, don't worry." He puts a his hand gently on your thigh as he drives, and after a while of chatting about his family, he pulls out his wallet with one hand, "Here, take this and look at the photos.", you take the wallet with a curious look, inside, you saw pictures of him and his mother, father, brother, and sister, the folks that you met today, until you looked at the last photo, "Who's this?", you turn the photo to him, it's a picture of him when he was about ten, sitting next to an elderly woman with long, black and grey hair. "My grandma, Penelope.", your face softens as you look back at the photo, he's sitting next to her, a little shovel in his hand and some dirt on his knees, while she's smiling at the camera, holding some book. You smile a little, "Aw, Keegan...".

As you kept looking at the photo, he started talking, almost in a nostalgic trance, "I used to dig little holes for her flowers in the backyard of her house, I waited to do it every spring.", you look over at him quietly as you put the photo back in his wallet, "How is she now?", you ask him, curious as to why he's never brought her up. "...She passed away years ago, in her sleep.". You're screaming at yourself in the back of your mind, no wonder he never brought her up!!! "I'm so sorry, I didn-", "It's ok, it's fine...", he chuckled lightly, extending his hand out to take his wallet. "You know...that "P" in my name, my middle name, it stands for her name, "Keegan Penelope Russ", my parents loved her to death...and I did too...I still do." You lean back in your seat, eyes softening at his words, "What was she like? Tell me a little about her...".

He sighs, putting his hand on your lap and holding your hand, "She was the sweetest, always took care of everyone, always wanted the best for everyone, she was always there for my mom and dad, and for me as well,", he chuckles, "she always snuck some money into my pockets whenever I visited, told me to not tell mom and dad...always...always put band-aids on my cuts when I played too rough in the park....always told me to take care of my parents and my friends...", he squeezes your hand gently, "She was a smart woman, knew her way around things that made my head spin even as a late teen...". You look over at him, smiling "I think she'd be proud of you today...", he chuckles, "I hope...I hope...but I know she definitely wouldn't be proud of my driving skills." You roll your eyes at him and chuckle.

"I....I want you to meet her, alright?", you shoot him a slightly confused look, "Meet her?...oh....ok, yeah!". After an almost seven-minute drive, he drove into a cemetery, and parked his car, leaving through his side and helping you out. He held your hand the whole way you two walked to find her tombstone, squeezing it every now and then. "There she is.", as you two walked closer, you saw thet the tombstone was decorated with some flowers, a sign that someone remembered her, missed her, and visited her. When you two stood in front of her tombstone, Keegan's arm went around your waist, holding you tight as he looked down at the flowers, silence filling the air, you didn't want to talk, felt like it wasn't your turn yet. You looked at her tombstone as well, noticing the small carvings of roses on the tablet, and the words "A Sister to All." written under her name and date of birth and death.

Your attention is directed to something else from the sound of a sniffle, and you quickly turn your head to Keegan, eyes full of tears threatening to roll down his face, cheeks red, and his jaw clenched, he was keeping it in. You lay your hand on top of his on your waist, and you rub his back with your other hand, "It's ok baby, just let it out, you're here now.", he tried to keep it all in his chest, cleaning his throat and wiping at his teary eyes, but he couldn't hold onto his feelings any longer, slowly giving in to quietly sob in your arms. He looked at the tombstone while sobbing quietly, "I miss you, God I miss you so much grandma, I miss you so fucking much...I miss when you told me stories about your childhood, I miss when you sat me on your lap and combed my hair, I miss when I used to help you with your garden....I miss you....I love you...". You couldn't handle his words, you can only imagine how much love she gave him and his family during her time alive, and you too had tears in your eyes, sniffling and rubbing your hand up and down his back as he calmed down a little afterwards.

You wiped your tears as he wiped his as well, sniffling a little as you held him close, he finally spoke, voice a little hoarse, "I think she would have loved you, I know she would have.". You smile at him, pulling him into a tight hug as he finally calmed down, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, taking in the sound of the wind, the almost unnoticeable scrap of leaves on some of the tombstones, the smell of your perfume, your soft yet tight hold on him. "Why don't we go home sweetheart?...I'll... make you one of the recipes she used to make me, and we can watch whatever movie you want, just don't choose "Entrapment" again, please.", you hold in your laugh, he was just trying to lighten up the mood after all, but laughing in a cemetery felt a little wrong. Though you two did go home to have dinner, and he made you some vegetable stew, after you two did end up watching a movie, it was of course "Entrapment".

-Tags: @milkteaarttime

[qwainte]

Some unimportant things that irk me about Astarion and his related stories

Despite being highborn, Astarion gets buried in the ground with some rinky dink tombstone, not inside a mausoleum.

Ascended!Astarion is able to inherent all of Cazador's assets with no push back, despite being a high ranking law official who was thought to be dead for 200 years.

Elves trance instead of sleep, which gives them the ability to relive memories in vivid detail, but they can choose to sleep if they want to. Why doesn't Astarion choose sleeping over this if going into reverie forces him to relive moments from his 200 years of torture? This could've been a cool character quirk -- having an elf that prefers to dream over trance.

Astarion never really laments about how being undead affects him as an elf. His reincarnation cycle is broken and his soul cannot enter the elven afterlife. Seems like a missed opportunity for conversations between him and the elf companions*.

Why no claws??

Why didn't any of the spawn examine each other's scars? Obviously, they still wouldn't be able to understand it but Astarion makes it seem like he never even glanced at his siblings' backs.

How was Astarion able to run away during his early years as a spawn under Cazador's compulsion?

Matter of fact, how did Dalyria bite Victoria if all the spawns were compelled to never drink blood from humanoids?

Victoria is a fresh corpse capable of speech but it's assumed she's been dead for a while.

Astarion has nothing to say about Victoria's body

Yousen and Violet have no cutscene presence at all

How did Cazador create 7000 spawn without doing the burial ritual? And if he did do it, how did he manage to do something like that in the comfort of his mansion without anyone noticing? Do the Tourmaline Depths have graveyard? Does the Szarr estate have a private graveyard that his main spawn never had access to?

When it's revealed Astarion helped kidnap the Gur children, no one in the party really comments on it. Astarion had only mentioned luring adults for Cazador to feed on. This reveal that he also stole children (and recently, too) should elicit some reaction from the other companions or the PC.

I just want to known the in-universe reason why Astarion's spawn siblings have glowing red eyes, black scleras, and shark teeth

Why is Pale Petras not pale???

Epilogue Spawn!Astarion is said to be an adventurer/hired killer but his attire doesn't reflect that. The doublet is a nice callback to EA but it doesn't fit his new life as a full time rogue.

[aaaaafro]

It's Wrestling - LE SSERAFIM - Sakura x M! Reader. (+18)

tw: a whole lot of wrestling stuff, a bit of rough sex? I honestly don't know but hope y'all enjoy it. Good luck.

As I suspected this has been the longest smut I've ever written lol, got this idea after watching a match of Will Ospreay vs Bea Priestley and I suddenly remembered, oh yeah, sakura did wrestle.

'Make it, please!' You plead in your mind as your legs were about to give out pedalling on your bike, hitting the brakes as soon as you see the signage on the window.

Your heart drops seeing that the lights are already off from the outside. "Fuck."

"Can I help you?"

"Holy shi–..." You almost jumped off your shoes hearing a soft spoken voice coming from your behind.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that." Not even a minute in the conversation yet you're already lost in her eyes.

"I-it... It's u-uhm... You see..." A complete mess who can't even form a comprehensible word. You just decided to give up and just signalled towards the poster.

"Oh, you're here for the tryouts?" You just nodded at the beautiful lady's question.

She chuckled before straightening her posture, just as then she gave you a quick scan from head to toe. She looks somewhat satisfied before saying; "Follow me."

You couldn't even question her as your feet acted on their own and started following the woman to the back of the building.

She then took a key from her pocket and used it to open the back entrance. You hesitated but got convinced once she cutely peeks her head from the inside saying; "come on in."

The two of you head towards the ring side to a near table with steel chairs. She pulls down the blinds to completely cover the windows before turning on the lights and the moment it shines the ring you're starstruck.

"Woah." You're in awe as she walks back towards you.

"I know, it's not that big but it's just for the tryouts... You okay?" She questioned as you're too lost admiring your dream right in front of you.

"Y-yeah, sorry it's just... So cool." The woman holds a chuckle as the two of you finally took a seat.

"So you want to be a professional wrestler?" She asked, doing that cliché thing where her chin is resting on her hand thingy with a smirk.

"Y-yes ma'am." You replied.

"Oh right, I totally forgot to tell you my name..." She extends her hand with a bright smile she said her name.

"Miyawaki Sakura." You gladly took her hand and shook it right after introducing yourself.

"Alright newbie. I just have a few questions here, give me your honest answers, okay?" Aggressively nodding your head cause Sakura to produce an adorable chuckle.

"Why do you want to be a pro-wrestler?" Is her first question.

"I could say things like because their moves are awesome, or I want to win the championship but to be honest, I just want a way to express myself with this craft. I love professional wrestling and the way it can create characters and stories. I dream of creating a legacy of myself in the future..." You then paused for a second

"What can I say? It's wrestling." Ending with an awkward chuckle.

After finishing your answer, you noticed that there's a moment of silence from her and once you looked you just saw her staring at you with a smile, however that may have broken her out of her trance as she hurriedly looks back to her questionnaire.

"Right, back to it then... Who would be your favourite pro-wrestler of all time?" She continued.

"If we're saying in-ring wise, I'd go with Will Ospreay..."

"Ooohh." She reacted.

"But mic-skills I'm going CM Punk." That earned you impressed nod from Sakura as she then jotted down notes.

"Right, so what would be your finisher?" She asked.

"Well, I was thinking of a modified tombstone pile-driver but since I'm not that well built perhaps I'll stick with a shooting star press or like a cutter for now..." Again Sakura was impressed as she wrote down your answers before slamming the pen and pad on the table.

This startled you along with her suddenly sitting up from her chair, you quickly followed suit as she signals you with a finger to follow her.

Sakura then skillfully rolls inside through the bottom rope and that alone surprised you. Obviously you think her only job is just to interview and background check the potential candidates but she looks really comfortable inside the ring.

"What are you waiting for? Your legacy won't get itself in the ring." Her comment took you by surprise, it's more motivating than insulting to say the least.

Quickly reaffirming yourself as you jump from the floor towards the ring apron like it was nothing, Sakura lets out a whistle as you finally slip in through the ropes.

"Miss Sakura..." Your call of her earned you a look of disbelief from the woman in front of you.

"Don't call me that!" Her voice clearly states that she's offended by your formality.

"M-ma'am S-sakura?" You tried once more but to no avail as she crosses her arms and just shakes her head.

"S-sak... Sakura?" A sudden shift from her expression allowed you to let out a sigh of relief.

"Just call me that the whole interview alright?" She asked and you just accepted it.

"S-sakura, I'm really sorry for asking but what's your p-position here?" Perhaps that was too vague for a question and it did raise her brow before smirking at you.

"Just so you know, I'm the one who runs all of this for you..." She said seductively before walking closer to you.

"Uh... can you be more specific?" You nervously replied.

She cut off her act and replied nonchalantly: "I'm the boss here."

"W-wait, s-seriously?" Your reaction causes Sakura to broke down into a laughter.

"S-sakura, are you really the owner?" Raising a finger to ask for a minute as she tries to recollect herself even going as far as tearing up from the laugh that she just had.

"Whooo, jeez never had to laugh that much in a while, you look so surprised..."

"Why? Is it because I'm a woman does that mean I can't have any interest in wrestling?" She asked with a pissed off tone.

"N-no, that's not w-what I meant..." You hurriedly replied before she started laughing uncontrollably again.

"Oh god... My stomach hurts. I'm kidding."

"No, I'm just one of the management department, I'm here to scout talents. I got caught up with some paperworks and needed to stay a bit late." That actually makes sense.

"O-okay, it's just that... You're p–..." Your words were swallowed to the void failing to reach Sakura's ears.

"What's that?" She asked before moving closer to hear you better.

"N-nothing, I-i said y-you're pretty c-cute, t-that's why I-i'm surprised that you're into w-wrestling." Currently a stuttering mess, Sakura notices this and made things worst when she pinches your cheek.

"How adorable." Said the one who's out there looking all cute and stuff with her bright smile.

"Alright, we need to continue." Sakura stops and starts doing stretches.

It's inappropriate for you to stare but she can't blame you after all her baggy pants didn't even stand a chance against her curves as she went to reach for her toes.

Her sports top wasn't much of a help either as she starts bending forward to do some frontal stretches. Of course your leering wouldn't go unnoticed as Sakura eyes your mischief.

Perhaps she's letting you, as she presses on harder accentuating her curves even more to your liking, gulping a solid amount of spit signals Sakura to stop, as you shamefully looked away.

"Right! Now newbie! Do you have any experience with a woman?" You almost choked on pure oxygen with her statement as you cough away trying to hold yourself together.

[Cough] "W-wha–... Expe? You..." You're a mess and this is pure entertainment for Sakura.

"Jeez what were you thinking? I obviously mean wrestling." She replied holding in a laugh.

"Y-yeah I know that, well I never really have any in-ring experience." Her eyes went wide with your statement.

"Any?!" You nodded in shame.

"Then what the heck are you doing here?" She was furious to say the least.

"Well, I did study a lot of it online... And uh... I..." You hesitated knowing she might get even more mad with what you're about to say.

"What now?" She asked crossing her arms.

"I did b-backyard w-wrestling." You're not really proud of it but it's the only thing closest to an actual experience you have.

An overly exaggerated sigh escapes Sakura as she massages her forehead for a bit before recomposing herself with a couple of neck circles she finally went back to normal.

"Okay! I assume you know your cues then?" She was surprisingly enthusiastic even after what just happened.

"Y-yeah, they taught me back then." You replied.

"Right, now we're going to do a little scuffle." She then prepares herself in front of you.

That caused you to panic and stop her right away; "W-woah! Wait, you're gonna do it with me?"

"Do you see anybody else here?" You shook your head and she gave you that 'i thought so' look, though that didn't really convince you.

"Oh seriously? I thought your favourite pro-wrestler is Will Ospreay?" Sakura presses on

"Yeah that's right."

"Then I'm sure you've watched Will Ospreay vs Bea Priestley?" That was actually a pretty good point.

"But no! Obviously those two are in a relationship during that time." You reasoned.

"Oh, so you're suggesting that we should start dating then?" Sakura replied.

"Eh?" You stood there bewildered by her reply.

"Oh come on! One!" She shouted.

Suddenly your instinct kicks in and your body just moved on its own, going into a collar and elbow tie-up with Sakura. The two of you then kayfabe a struggle as she starts giving you cues.

Once more your instincts gets the best of you letting her overpower you. With the loud echoes of your stomps and struggle you hear Sakura whispered; "Two."

Positioning an underhook she then gave you a hip toss. To which you sold like your whole life depended on it. She then went down and put you in a headlock to which you're not even going to complain as your face was right next to her boo-.

"Good boy." You heard Sakura whisper before letting go of your face.

"Great, now shall we move on?" Speechless you just nodded.

"One!" With that, the two of you got tied up once more.

"Four." She continues, as you took her by the arm and did an irishwhip to the rope.

She then signals with a clap in which she suddenly gave you a head scissor with her thighs before taking you down. You just took the spot as she dusts herself clean.

"Great... great..." Sakura compliments you with a slow clap.

"Can you take a hurricanrana to a pin?" She asked as she turns away from you and with not much of an argument you just nodded.

"Alrighty then." She starts running towards you applying a head scissor but instead of taking you down you supported her weight for a bit.

"Ready?" You asked her but since her face is partially covered with her hair you didn't clearly see her face but you did notice a nod.

Taking the go signal, you gave her a little boost before floating over and landing on your back with Sakura's legs still trapping your head.

It took you almost a minute to remember that Sakura is still on top of you scissoring you with her thighs resting on either side of your face. Somehow though this doesn't seem to bother her as well, until you say;

"Uh... S-sakura?"

"Oh, right s-sorry." She finally lets you free standing up.

"O-okay, obviously, it's not always high flying luchador stuffs that people want. Let's see your grappling game." Said Sakura who's just got done fixing herself.

"You'll have the dominant position~." The moment you heard that, your relaxed heart rate suddenly doubles.

Unlike earlier which are obviously more dangerous spots, you'd think that now isn't really the time to be nervous, however the way Sakura delivered that line your instinct once more alerts you about something yet you're not sure how to respond.

"One!" Sakura cuts you off from your trance, tying up once more.

She then starts rapid firing cues to which you to transition from arm wrenches, to ankle grabs and leg sweeps but ultimately ending with you over Sakura in a full control position.

"Mhmmm." Was that a moa-? Not wanting your question to be answered you hurriedly got off from Sakura.

"Sakura?" Your call woke her up from her state as she slightly panics before getting up as well.

"Right..." She looks shy for a second before turning away from you.

"Now, for the last section. I will be testing your resolve." It's almost ridiculous how she sounded talking about testing 'resolve' specially as she's still facing away from you.

Sakura seems to have noticed your smug look and decided that playtime is over; "Okay newbie, take off your clothes."

"Eh?!" It really was a 180 degrees turn from her shy self earlier to now.

The confidence in her eyes, her posture, and the way she just stood there waiting for your response. Of course, your only choice is to strip yet your hands are frozen in place and your knees are about to give.

"A-all o-of my clothes?" With a straight face Sakura just nods.

On shaky hands you start by taking off your watch, followed by your shirt, you then check to see Sakura's reaction however she's just standing there almost ice-cold expressionless. It's honest scary but also... Hot.

You continued taking off your shoes along with your socks. Meanwhile it's like Sakura's eyes never left you as your hand then reaches for your pants.

Slowly sliding them down on a shaky grip, your brain keeps sending you warnings, like a combat plane who has a been locked on with a missile. Once your pants are off you're not left with your boxers.

"Go on then." Sakura's calm voice was not helping at all adding the bonus of her just standing there and staring daggers into you.

"I-is this r-really–..." You realize that no amount of reasoning that's gonna get you out of this.

There's really not much of a choice anymore, as Sakura's gaze seems to have gotten more and more aggressive, you then hook the waistband of your boxers and slowly slid them down.

In such state of chaos you've managed to catch a glimpse of Sakura as she bites her lips as soon as you're fully exposed. Obviously that baffled you but just as then she suddenly tossed you something.

"Now cut me a promo." Looking at the thing she gave it was actually a microphone.

"P-promo?" Sakura then gave you one of those are you serious look before responding;

"Yeah dummy, what did you think? We're not only looking in ring skills, you'd have to show me your mic skills as well, don't tell me you don't have any."

Her smug tone motivates you but you're on the ropes with how things are. First you're naked in the middle of the ring. Second this gorgeous woman in front of you is telling you to cut a promo from out of nowhere.

"C-can you a-at least give me a lead or anything?" You asked.

"Uugghh! Fine." That groan of frustration was cute though if you'd say so yourself.

Sakura then reaches for another mic before walking closer towards you. As she does, Sakura begin to give you a scan from head to toe seemingly pausing right in the middle before continuing.

Just as she's finally inches away from you. You begin to get nervous as Sakura raises the mic to her face. Without breaking eye contact with each other she grins.

"Do you really want to be a pro-wrestler?" She asked.

"Yes!" You answered.

"Are you willing to do anything?" Her tone suddenly shifting from serious to sultry each word.

"Y-yes?!" Before you can even question what Sakura's point was with that question she suddenly drops on her knees right in front of you.

"S-sa... Kkura..." A devilish smile greets you as her face levels with your member.

"N-now, now, since you said you'd do anything–..."

"Tell me what would you do to me?" Her needy eyes was locked on yours.

That was only the start, as her hands begin to travel from your calves up to your thighs, you can feel your member twitching which caused you to try and cover it up. However Sakura has other plans, without breaking eye contact with you she pries away your hand before taking your member into her hand.

As soon as your skins touched, you can feel your moan escaping your lips. This was ecstasy to Sakura who then started pumping your length;

"Tell me boy, what is it you want?" She's inviting to say the least, it wasn't a question more of a demand.

"I w-want y-you–.”

"At-ta-ta-ta! Use your words properly. We can't afford you stuttering like that in front of a crowd."

"I want you to suck it! Suck my fucking cock." A smile of success flashes on Sakura's face before taking all of your length into her mouth.

Licking, kissing, biting? Slobbering her spit all over it, occasionally trying to take it all in but failing to do so, as her tongue then focuses on the tip. Like a snake hunting its prey before swallowing it whole.

With a pop she releases your member getting a few licks on the base of your cock as she then gave you a smile and a wink before asking; "What's next?"

"Take your clothes off." You asked as she suddenly blushes and acts all shy.

"B-but..." Seeing the truth behind her little façade you decide just to play along.

"Do you really think I care about what matters to you? Didn't I tell you to take your clothes off, you slut!" Having enough of her games you suddenly grab the single strap of her top before pulling it off.

The jiggle on her breast was majestic the moment they were released, this caused a blush from Sakura as she tries to cover them up.

"Now you're gonna be embarrassed? You have gotta be kidding me. I've been ignoring it but I can see the sluttiness in you." You honestly don't know where you're getting all of this but she doesn't seem to mind even when you swat away her arm that's covering her breast.

"W-what a-are you doing?!" Sakura panics as you slid your member in between her orbs.

Despite her pathetic acts of resistance, she's actually the one pressing her breast together giving you a better feel of her ridge, along with her spit on your cock that helps ease up the thrusts you're currently doing.

"Y-yeah, that's right you slut." You groan as Sakura keeps the contraption on your length.

It was a sight of a lifetime but it only gets better from here. When all of a sudden she starts squirming on her knees and a second later you see her white baggy pants comes flying across the ring.

You took a peek to see her white underwear forming a wet spot right in the middle of it and that's when you knew you had this right in the bag.

Her breasts were smooth and supple, but before you even realize it you're getting closer and closer to your climax, while Sakura looks like she's just getting started still squirming on her knees.

Of course you don't want to spoil the fun so you regretfully pull out of her ridge. This earns you a whine of disappointment from Sakura as she just kneeled there waiting for what else you're planning to do.

"One!" Her eyes widened, it's as though her instinct was ready that she quickly took a stance and grappled with you.

"Five!" You did a sweep that took Sakura off her feet and you then flipped her over.

Now in all fours Sakura's face was bright red though it didn't stop her from sticking up her rear-end for a better angle, then again your member twitched at sight of her glorious backside.

"W-what a-are you doin–mhhmm." Her cry was like music to your ears as you start to tease her clothed holes.

"Isn't this what you want?" You asked before shifting aside the stupid cloth obstructing her core.

"Nnnhhnngg!" An airy moan was the best response you could ever get from her in that current state.

"F-fuck!" Sakura screams before digging her face on the mat to try and muffle her moans as your tongue explores her core.

Addicting is the only way to describe it, maybe it's her fem-wash and sweat mixing, maybe it's the surprisingly pleasant humidity of the night or maybe it's just Sakura overall but you're addicted.

Obsessing over her taste, the way her moans sound when it reaches your ears, the way her body arches downward, the way her face contorts each lick and suck you deliver to her submerged core.

This isn't even wrestling anymore you're just lapping her up and yet she's not complaining, well she wouldn't be able to even if she wanted to, since only airy gasps and occasional curses are the only thing that's coming out of her lips.

"F–fuck me p-please!" In the midst of your feast you've manage to hear Sakura's needy voice.

For most of the time you've been eating her up she did form a few words but not to this degree and that alone made you stop, in which even she was annoyed but Sakura knows her needs and now she needs a little bit more than your mouth.

"You want me to what?" You know your cards and you're gonna play them.

Sakura though stayed on all fours wiggling her ass in front of you, giving you a good enough answer to your question but you're not gonna give it to her that easy.

"Three!" You shouted and she quickly picks herself up giving you an arm for an irishwhip to the corner turnbuckle.

You're honestly impressed by Sakura's ability to switch from being a slut to a professional in a fraction of a second. However that doesn't change the fact that you're so turned on seeing how she's still kayfabing hitting the turnbuckle. Shortly you followed and stare at Sakura who's using the ropes as supports just then as if there's a light bulb lit up in your head and you had this ridiculous idea.

Gently lifting her head up to see her needy eyes was beaming with lust, you then brought your lips next to her ears and whispered; "brace yourself."

You spread her arms putting them over the rope that helps her chest get pushed up. Gosh she's sneakily voluptuous.

Seeing her eyes burning with desire you then deliver a knife edge chop across her chest. A whipping sound echoes through the whole ring as Sakura winces as she slowly falls on the apron.

You'd feel bad seeing her riding in pain but you can't specially when Sakura's fucking dripping off her snatch, with that you can clearly say that this girl is really something else.

"Come here." Aggressively getting her up to a standing position.

Once more placing her arms up the ropes for a better support you then took one of her leg placing it on top of the middle rope and so is with the other one.

You honestly thought that your night couldn't get any more better as you look at Sakura squirming, widespread on the corner turnbuckle of the ring, her panties are just useless at this point due to the fact that they're completely soaked with her juices.

"W–wait, what's t-this?" Sakura then again making it seem like she didn't like the position she's currently in.

"Oh, so you're still keeping that shit act. We'll see." You're not having none of it as you position yourself right in front of her.

A long moan then rips through the air, as you rub your rod on her clothed, drenched core. You can clearly see her clutching on the ropes with her whole might.

Not really wanting to tease her any further, you move aside the useless cloth and pushed your self inside her, well there wasn't even an ounce of effort you had to give, that's how wet she is.

"F–fuck! Uugghh! You fuckin~!" Her sounds of pleasure melts into a high-pitched screech as you start pumping in and out of her.

You can clearly see the red markings forming on her hand as she tries her best to hold on while you're just hammering your whole length balls deep into her. Sakura who's now a moaning mess starts to shake, you're aware that she's currently riding on her orgasm, you stopped and took a step back.

"Haaaa–! Holy shi–!" This is ridiculous, she couldn't even complete a sentence for god's sake.

You gently lifted her head for a bit before delivering another knife edge chop that once more echoes through the whole room.

"J-just finish me... Finish in me please?" Her last plea as her core drips her juices out.

If a finish is what she wants, that's what she's getting. You removed both her legs and arms from the ropes before support her whole weight as she just went limp from all of the pleasure and pain she was in.

"Powerbomb to a jack-knife pin." You whispered as she did her best to recollect herself.

You then pushed her towards the rope before lifting her up to your shoulder, her core was inches away from your face and you just said fucking before pushing her all the way through getting a few licks in.

Once again Sakura plays the pro-card delivering punches on your head to try and breakaway, however you've had enough and drove her spine first on the canvas.

Without letting go of her legs you brought them up to your shoulders with her calves wrestling right next to your face, you once more moved her panty aside and penetrated her.

You won't lie it has been a long and arduous night but god was it one to remember, as you savour her walls clenching your member as you slam yourself inside her. Wet and loud slaps of flesh are the only thing that can be heard as Sakura's voice have complete been silence due to her exhausted state.

By each slams you can feel your balls tightening and it's only a few pumps away to your climax as you whisper to Sakura; "W-where d-do you want i-it again?"

"I-inside p-please! Ah fuck– I'm cumming!"

A groan from the two of you syncs so are your orgasms, her core flooding with the mixtures of both of your fluids there's nothing else hotter than this.

After almost an eternity of riding in pure pleasure, you finally pulled out and came oozing out of Sakura is pure warm love juice.

You two laid in the middle of the ring too spent to even think of anything else. It took both of you almost 5 minutes to finally recover from your highs.

"Woah." You exclaimed and suddenly hear a small chuckle coming from Sakura.

As she slowly slithers her way to cuddle with you, resting her head on your chest as she hugs your sweaty torso.

"Was I too rough?" You're seriously concerned though, after realizing what you've done to her.

"Nah, you're good..." She smiled before placing a kiss on your cheek.

"It's wrestling." She added as the two of you cuddled naked in the middle of the ring.

[eldritchwhispersofficial]

i keep imagining Tim going to Fairmount as a child And Dr. Corenthal instantly being like "Okay this is my new son now ig" I have a very vivid mental imagine of lil Tim quietly sitting in a little graveyard and gently tracing the names on the tombstones and then Dr. Corenthal comes up and Tim's like "They all died on the same day." And Dr. Corenthal looks at Fairmount!Vinnie, Fairmount!Jeff Fairmount!Stephanie and Fairmount!Evan's tombstones and lets out the saddest sigh and is like "Kid, you shouldn't be out here. It's not a good place." Have a little blurb i'll turn this into an AO3 fanfic when I get the chance (also i have no idea how old the MT4 were when they were adopted or what year they died so I just made them all 10-12 and put the date of death as the day of the 10-27-1981 letter) Edit: due to extentuating circumstances (actually fucking reading the wiki) I changed all of their ages to 16-18) Dr. Corenthal looked around. Where was the kid? He'd been quietly coloring in his room, and now he wasn't. He glanced out the window and saw the kid, the new patient- Tim, that was his name, Timothy Wright- sitting in the little graveyard behind Fairmount Children's Home. Dr. Corenthal hesitated. Tim shouldn't be out there. It was cold outside, and... and a burial ground was no place for a small child. He shrugged on his coat and stepped outside. Tim sat quietly in the midst of the four tombstones, solemnly tracing the lettering on them with his index finger. He seemed almost as if he were in a trance, not hearing or not caring about Dr. Corenthal coming up to him. The doctor sat down next to the small boy. "Kid, what are you doing out here? It's cold. You'll freeze." He said. Tim's eyes remained fixed on the tombstone in front of him. "I didn't know you had kids." He said. Dr. Corenthal looked at the tiny tombstone, the hand-carved lettering- he remembered carving those letters into the stone himself with shaky hands and a film of tears, a process which took him most of a week. The words, which read: HERE LIES VINCENT CORENTHAL BELOVED SON BORN JUNE 21ST 1963 DIED OCTOBER 27TH 1981 MAY HE REST WITH THE ANGELS "They all died on the same day." Tim stated. Dr. Corenthal flinched. "They did, indeed." He agreed, slightly wary. Tim pointed to each of the other tombstones in turn.

HERE LIES STEPHANIE CORENTHAL BELOVED DAUGHTER BORN DECEMBER 19TH 1964 DIED OCTOBER 27TH 1981 MAY HER SPIRIT FIND PEACE AT LAST

HERE LIES JEFFERY CORENTHAL BELOVED SON BORN AUGUST 18TH 1964 DIED OCTOBER 27TH 1981 MAY HE DREAM PEACEFULLY

HERE LIES EVAN CORENTHAL BELOVED SON BORN NOVEMBER 22ND 1965 DIED OCTOBER 27TH 1981 MAY HE FOREVER SLUMBER "Why?" Tim asked. "What?" Dr. Corenthal said. "Why did they die? How did they die? Was there some kind of accident?" Tim asked. He looked up at Dr. Corenthal, and the good doctor was struck by how innocent and sweet his eyes were. He had no idea how cruel and evil the world could be. To him, the Tall Man was nothing more than a scary monster, and there were always going to be good people who could save him from the monster. But no one could save Dr. Corenthal. And no one had saved his children. No one had saved Jeffery, poor Jeffery- Dr. Corenthal still remembered his wife's screaming, poor Maryann was inconsolable, she found Jeffery eviscerated, his guts thrown around the room like confetti, and there was blood- oh, so much blood. Poor, poor Stephanie- lying with her arms and legs bent at awkward angles, her skull cracked open like an egg, her eyes blank and lifeless, lightless, no more life, no more Steph. She'd had a nasty fall, trying to stop- to stop the- the boy- from getting upstairs, from getting to Vincent's room, tried to protect Vinnie, but she couldn't- oh God, poor Steph. No one saved her, either.

Vincent, oh god, poor Vinnie- he tried so hard to stop- to stop the boy- even though he knew there was no one he could save, he fought- he tried- he could have run, could have run, the door was right there- but no, no. He stayed. He fought. He died. Poor Vinnie, oh god, collapsing when Dr. Corenthal finally made it up the stairs and into the room, bleeding, Vinnie looking at him with a sad smile, "I love you, Dad." And then no more, no more Vinnie, no more serious eldest child who always tried to take care of the others, no more baking with Maryann after school, no more talented crayon drawings that had turned into the beautiful oil pastels on the refrigerator, no more Vincent, all gone. He didn't want do do it, didn't want to kill him, but he had to- had to protect Linnie, had to protect the only one left, had to save her- had to get the gun, ran down the stairs as he heard the boy, the creature IN the boy- "Papa. Papa, where are you going? Come back." And then the voice, demonic and unholy, "YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME, RABBIT." The humming, that fucking humming, the creature that was in the boy, was in- in Evan, that THING- HABIT. HABIT chased Dr. Corenthal down the stairs of that house, chased him into the room where Dr. Corenthal slammed the door in it's face, heard it pounding, shrieking in an unholy tongue, and he prayed, he prayed for God to save him, and he yanked open the drawer, ripped out the gun, and the door crumpled, the wood splintered, and he was standing in the doorway, he was wearing Evan's body, covered in blood with a knife in each hand, and Dr. Corenthal cried and screamed, his hand shook but he did it, he shot the demon, and then it was over and it's rage filled purple eyes became confused brown ones, and it wasn't HABIT but Evan, Evan asking why, why. And then it was all over. No more Evan. No one had saved his children. No one could save him. Dr. Corenthal suddenly jolted back to reality. "It was a terrible accident, yes." He said. "What happened? Was it a car accident or something?" Tim asked. Dr. Corenthal hesitated. "Timothy, listen. You're young. Small. You don't need to be hearing about what happened to my kids, not now. Okay?" He said. Tim looked at him with those innocent brown eyes, so much like the eyes that had once stared out of the face of his beloved eldest son. "Okay." Tim said quietly. They both stood up, and Dr. Corenthal wrapped an arm around Tim's shoulders. "Do you have any more kids?" Tim asked. Dr. Corenthal thought of Linnie. Thought of how she was getting along, twelve years after the "accident". She was in college now. She was okay now. As okay as she could be. He thought of how easy it was for those innocent brown eyes, so much like the eyes of his darling youngest son, to lie. To hide the dark truth behind them. "No, Tim. They were it. I have no children left." Dr. Corenthal lied. Tim nodded solemnly. Dr. Corenthal turned and led Tim back towards Fairmount Children's Home, glancing back at the graveyard. "Tim, let me give you some advice, okay?" Dr. Corenthal said. Tim looked up at him, and what the good doctor said would stick with him for the rest of his life, through everything, through Jay, through Alex, through Brian, through everything that happened in Rosswood and everything that would ever happen to him again. "There are... things. In this world. Things like the creature who you draw sometimes. And some of them are good, but some of them are very, very bad. Timothy, son, you listen to me. You meet these things? Do not trust them. Do not try to kill them. Better yet, duck your head and run the other way. You understand me, son?" Dr. Corenthal said. Tim was never good at running. He ran, he ran so fast and so far but he never ever made it, the things always caught up to him, until he stopped running. But when he was a child, he understood. "I understand." Tim said. Dr. Corenthal sighed. "Bless you, kiddo."

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Moss

request: yes

summary: Daisy Pt. 2. More trials (and a lot of fluff) between doc and daisy

Doc Holliday was a lot of things and stupid was not on that list. Something that often got him in a heap of trouble was his education. Quick witted remarks in a variety of languages would swirl around his brain, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. He was well versed in novels, theater, nocturnes, and even a dash of politics. His understanding of God and the universe was also impressive. 

So no, he certainly wasn’t stupid. Why then was his Daisy hiding things from him? Did she think his male nature made him inherently oblivious to the state of things? Clearly something was wrong. 

Smoke from a pipe- not a cigar nor cigarette but herbs his Y/N read about to ease his pain thank you very much- billowed around swirling with all of his doubts. Doc puffed away as he thought back on all of the recent nonsense. 

First was subtle. One fine evening, Doc’s family gathered in the Oriental. He felt himself glow with pride as the Earp’s and Y/N surrounded him each night. Sometimes he thought he was delirious with another fever as the sound of laughter and touches of affection enveloped him. 

That evening, however, as he waited patiently for Y/N return to his lap, a frown furrowed his handsome face. She balanced on his thighs, glass in hand. “Darlin’?” He tapped the glass with a hesitant finger. “You switch to gin?” 

Her laugh was enough to erase the frown. “No, huckleberry, I thought we could benefit from some water. I still don’t want you drinking, can’t live without you.”

“Oh hell, honey, you’re stuck with my nonsense for the rest of your life.” Her pretty eyelashes and bustle free legs were enough to make him forget. 

Then, all together, Y/N stopped their evening nightcap. Now, yes he needed to quit his drinking to excess, but a glass of bourbon with his baby every night surely was not a problem. Doc wondered if going to the Oriental every night reminded his bride of his affair, which seemed reasonable. Certainly not willing to be on the receiving end of her wrath anytime soon, he let that go. 

Next was more straight forward. Wyatt had received tickets for boxsets at the Birdcage. Y/N loved Faust so naturally Doc jumped at the chance for a family outing. His darling all but squealed with delight when Doc sauntered into suite, with a dress bag slung over his arm. 

“May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the depths of hell tonight, Mrs. Holliday?” Mustached lips tickled up her arm, over her collarbone, and down to her cleavage. 

“Oh absolutely, Mr. Holliday!” Taking the dress out of the brown wrapping, she gasped. “Oh, John!” It was her turn to sprinkle his gruff face with kisses. 

The maroon silk looked downright sinful on his bride (and she thought the exact same thing about his matching waist coat). The Hollidays were a sight to behold in Tombstone. With her on his arm, Doc felt all the southern gentry he was raised in. Nothing could make him feel unworthy of power or love. 

Settled in the dim theater, Y/N fanned herself, a rush of heat hitting her. A holler from the floor seats broke her trance and drew her eyes of the one she despised most. Johnny Ringo practically howled at her, tongue wagging like a rabid dog. 

“Pay no mind to Mr. Ringo.” A gentle hand grasped her chin and forced her attention back to Doc, where it belong he reasoned. “Only I may purchase your soul.” 

Y/N’s eyes fluttered and hummed in delight. “You already have, Doc.” That settled his swirling doubts. Yes, he liked to think he held her soul inside his own. His soul clutching to hers in order to survive. He owned her, not in an oppressive sense. Not like how his father view his mother, but in the way that she was his and his alone and he could proudly say the same. 

Yet, just shy of intermission his darling uttered a “oh fuck” under her breath. Doc chuckled, eyebrow quirked in amusement. Yet before he could comment on the lewd nature of his otherwise polite wife, she was grasping her skirts and rushing out of the box. 

Before he could even move, Allie Earp ran after his wife. Looking at the remaining Earps- excluding Wyatt who looked all too close to committing something dangerous- Doc glared. “Something I don’t know?” 

“Lady stuff?” Morgan suggested earning a grunt of support from Virgil. 

At intermission, Doc found his wife with Allie. Allie had the audacity to grin at Doc, blue eyes twinkling. “Doctor is in.” She giggled. 

And yes, normally Doc would have ate that up. Reveling in the limelight and delightful female attention. However, normally Doc was the unstable one and not his wife.  Still, he couldn’t help himself from saying a charming, “It seems my favorite patient is ill.” 

“I’m fine, Doc.” Y/N offered a grimace of a smile. Slowly standing, she took the fan from Allie. “Just got too hot all of a sudden.” 

Nodding, if only to avoid adding another public confrontation to the history of their relationship, Doc ordered a tonic water from the bar and escorted his wife back to their seats. Allie just chittering all the way. 

The final straw was down right offensive. Doc enjoyed few things more than waking up in the early hours of the morning when the sun was just beginning to think of rising and loving his wife. She was always so eager from a nights rest that she just folded into him. His lungs weren’t heavy from a full day allowing him to thrust and grunt for a glorious eternity. 

Yet, every morning that past week when he rolled over she was gone. He’d call out her name practically mewling with need only to be met with silence. Ignoring the hurt that struck his heart, he’d go back to bed. 

Finally, this morning was the last straw. He figured he’d stay awake, greet her entering their room. The longer he sat awake, pipe in hand, the wilder this thoughts went. Doc prided himself in a remarkably even temper but fear was ensnaring his rationality. 

A dose of opium sounded wonderful right about now. It would just calm his nerves, make it so he wouldn’t lash out. Last thing he wanted to do to his daisy was be mean. Lord knows he’s hurt her enough. He was sure he had a vial tucked away somewhere. 

By the time she entered their room, Doc was in tears. Red eyes narrowed into a glare at her. She gasped. “Doc, are you alright?” 

A rumbling cough worked its way out his lungs. “Daisy, I am rolling.” He hissed. Standing from his spot by the window, he grabbed his cane for balance. “Awful late night for you though.” 

“Are you high?” 

“I hardly see the need in answering that.” He snipped. “It’s quite obvious we both are up to things we shouldn’t be.” 

“Now, John, listen to me.”

“Is it to get back at me? Do you think my heart doesn’t hurt when you leave me?” 

“John, please just trust me.” her voice wobbled with tears. 

“I know I’ve not been the best husband to you-“

“You’ve been wonderful.” 

“Stop lying.” The opium only made his accent stronger. “Please just be honest with me, my soul can’t bare it any longer.” 

With a sad smile, Y/N crossed the floor to her husband. One hand tenderly held his cheek, wiping away at trailing tears. The other reached for his own, pressing a key into his palm. “Get dressed and follow me.” 

Confused, dazed, spellbound by his bride he dressed quickly. She held her arm out to him knowing his pride would much prefer her to stabilize him than his cane. “I’ve not been truthful and I am so very sorry for that Doc, but I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

They walked the dusty streets of Tombstone together. The early morning air left their lungs clear. Cactus clung to the early morning dew as the couple clung to each other. Near the edge of town, Y/N paused in front of a stately Greek Revival home. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She asked nuzzling into his neck. 

“Yes, though it is difficult to find anything that compares to you darlin’.” 

With warm cheeks, Y/N giggled. “Try the key Doc.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Doc sputtered pulling away in shock. 

“Try the key.” 

A burst of speed had him rushing to the door. Rocking chairs lined the porch, tucked safely behind columns. The key slide in perfectly. Her name was all he could sigh, tears welling in his eyes again. 

Joining him, she nudged him forward. “I’ll give you the tour.” 

While still barren of furniture, the grand home had billowing curtains with long windows that ached of home. As Y/N rattled on about something to do with paint colors Doc waved a hand of dismissal not really caring how she wanted to paint. 

“How?” He managed to grunt,masking his emotion with a forced cough. 

“I was left an impressive about of money in a will.” A small smile tugged on her lips. “A great aunt everyone else hated. The only stipulation was to use it for my family.” 

A tug on his hand led up him the stately staircase. “I was thinking our bedroom could be here if-“ 

“I can handle them darlin’. Don’t you worry about me.” 

The next door was shut, Y/N’s eyes glittering with mischief. “This is your second surprise.” 

“Oh if this is one of those sinful European things-“Doc paused as the door opened revealing the only painted room in the house. 

gentle moss green walls greeted him. A canopy hung from the ceiling, the netting protecting a crib. “Daisy? Are you in a delicate way?” His green eyes flickered from her face to the perky bodice of her dress  to her tummy. 

A nod of her head confirmed. his heart nearly burst out his chest. A joyful laugh tickled out his throat. He didn’t give a damn what would be said about him now, his wife was carrying his baby. His. 

Nudging her nose against his, she leaned in to capture his lips pulling softly on the plump skin. Words weren’t needed as they removed each layer of clothing from each other. Fingers interlocked as they lay together on the soft mossy green rug below them. 

[saithebatguy]

TIMING: Earlier this week PARTIES: Sai (feat. mausoleummates) SUMMARY: Just a bit of cow-flavored (beef, if you will) slice of life. Sai and his mausoleum-mates find cows in the cemetery.

The ding from Sai’s phone echoed off the concrete walls of the mausoleum. He didn’t linger long in the dregs of the early evening, just a quick stretch and he was off to the door. He had a laundry list of things to get done for the night. There were just a couple more loose ends to tie up with Bat Week, and he was eager to see it all come together.

But at the door, a sound made him pause. It was faint through the thick mausoleum doors, but it sounded almost like … mooing? Considering where he lived, he had no doubt it was something stranger outside the door. 

Sai glanced back at the other vampires in the mausoleum. James was still in a trance, and hadn’t responded when Sai’s sunset chime went off. Marv and Bryce were deep into their eighth game of checkers  – or what they called checkers. They’d changed the rules so many times over the past couple of decades it was hardly recognizable. For a moment, Sai debated grabbing them. It didn’t sound like anything alarming, though, just odd. Deciding against it, he opened the doors. 

The sight on the other side rendered him speechless. Somehow, during the day, the cemetery filled with cows. 

There was a rainbow of them, in grays, blacks, whites, and browns, milling about between tombstones and crypts. Some were settling in for the night, while others munched on stray tufts of grass poking up around graves. As he watched, one of the cows rubbed up against a headstone, scratching some itch.

It took a moment before Sai noticed the pile of papers at his feet. Papers with his name on them, he realized, picking them up. 

He skimmed the top sheet, which made it clear the cows were very much his, somehow, and his prize for the sandcastle contest. Something to do with food. He flipped through the rest of the papers, but they were all just certifications and other official paperwork for the cows. He turned back to the cover page dumbfounded. Why would they reward sandcastles with cows? Most importantly, how did they know where he lived? He hadn’t put it on any of the official paperwork. 

“Are those cows?” Sai heard from behind in the mausoleum. “Why are there cows?” 

“Uh, no idea,” Sai said as he stuffed the papers in his back pocket. He’d rather not explain the sandcastle contest winnings to his fellow clanmates. They wouldn’t understand the whole fraternizing with humans thing. “Maybe it’s some sort of city event or something?” 

“I’ll bet it’s the farms,” James said, walking up from behind Sai. “They probably wandered in.” He nodded at the paperwork sticking out of Sai’s pocket. “What’s that?”

“Oh… it’s nothing,” Sai said. “Uh, missionaries. You know, leaving stuff around the graveyard again.”

James looked like he was about to say something more, but before he could Bryce bounded up between them for a closer look. “Well, shit,” he said, taking in the view before looking between the other vampires in the doorway. “Think the spawn will eat them?”

Sai gave him a skeptical look, “Cows?”

Bryce shrugged, “They look tasty enough to me.” 

“They’re yours if you want them,” James said. The disgust on his face mirrored Sai’s.  

“Nah, I’m more of a human-atarian,” said Bryce, chuckling at his own joke. “But some creepy crawly around here will eat them, I bet.”

“You might be right about that." Sai hoped, anyway. It would be easier if the situation sorted itself out. It might be a novelty at first, but give it a month and Esther would want them out. He’d bet money on it. 

“They’re kind of cute, though,” said Bryce, as one of the cows stared at them with dead eyes, chewing on a daffodil arrangement from a nearby grave. “Hey, do you think cows can be turned into vampires?”

James rolled his eyes, “This is different from when you tried to turn a squirrel, how?” But Bryce wasn’t listening. He had that look in his eyes, where he was already off in his own fantasy reality. Bryce might have been a vampire for almost 30 years, but sometimes he still thought with the brain of the 20-something he’d been when he died. 

The three of them contemplated the herd in front of them, all presumably thinking very different things, as the moos rang out into what might otherwise be a peaceful night. After a minute, James pushed off the doorframe, and looked at the two of them, “Breakfast? I’m thinking we can grab Lizette and Yukiko, and see what Esther wants done with the cows after.” 

“I’m in,” said Bryce, already moving on from the vampire cow. “Maybe we get lucky and some farmer will come looking for their cows. I could go for a farmer.”

“Leave them alone, then,” called Marv from inside, still poring over the checkers game Bryce abandoned. Knowing him, he was probably using the opportunity to cheat. “We want them to take their cows with them, don’t we?”

“Or. Idea,” Bryce said. “We keep the cows. Eat the farmer. Disco rodeo. Whole graveyard.” 

“We’ll see what Esther says about the cows,” Sai said, noncommittally. It didn’t make much difference to him either way. He was still thinking about how the judges tracked him down. Was he that easy for the humans to find? But based on the note, they had no idea he didn’t eat cows. That was something, at least. One thing at a time, though. They’d figure out what to do with the cows, and he’d look for a convenient trash can for the paperwork before James thought to ask about it again. 

“I’m telling you, man, everyone’s going to love this. Disco rodeo. Tomorrow night.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” James said. “Let’s get going, I’m hungry. Yukiko and them will be in on your rodeo idea, I’m sure.”

Sai followed James as he walked away from the mausoleum. Sai had other things to do, but the cow situation had thrown his whole night off. A good meal might set him straight. They should talk to the others about the new cemetery residents, anyway. James was right about that. 

“We aren’t done with the checkers game, Bryce,” Marv yelled from the back. 

“Later, I’ve got a farmer to eat,” Bryce said, hurrying after Sai and James, as the three of them picked their way between cows and tombstones, and walked deeper into the graveyard.

[curlysgirl0202]

Request for a Story:

(reader) Searching for A Social Group Outside of Her Friends... Despite the Earps Repeated Warning About the Cowboys, the Reader Persists, Much to the Shock and Astonishment of The Cowboys and Everyone Else in Town...Is the Reader Up For the Challenge?

The Arizona wind whipped through town in the early afternoon. Dust flooded the area for a moment, the townspeople taking refuge in saloons or in their homes. The Cowboys, who's been on a number of dust infested cattle drives endured it with little effort. They simply played cards, visited the parlors or drank their loneliness away at one of the many whiskey houses.

After a few days, the wind died down and the residents of Tombstone once again flooded the streets and many establishments the up and coming boom town had to offer. Among other things, Tombstone residents boasted of a public library, theater, art museum, stationary, several liveries, two grocery stores that sold fresh fruit and vegetables, a wine and beer shop and several custom tailors and custom dress making. In addition, there were several parlors where men could drown their loneliness in booze and a meaningless yet pleasurable encounter.

One Saturday afternoon, the stage stops at the Grand Hotel, a favorite spot for the Cowboys. A few people exit the stage.

Then you emerge like a butterfly from her chrysalis; beautiful and delicate with just a touch of roughness.

Johnny Ringo takes a drag of his cigarette before his eyes fall over you and your wonderful curves. His eyes, usually full of brooding turn softer. He tosses the cigarette and takes his hat off, hoping to get a better look at you.

"Well, ain't she a sight for sore eyes," Curly Bill remarks, leaning against a post.

A few other cowboys gather.

"Maybe she's with the theater," Stilwell adds. "Pretty. Real pretty." He goes back to sharpening his knife while he sits on the sidewalk, his legs crossed while he leans against the wall.

Ringo says nothing, he just allows himself to soak up your beauty as beautiful things were uncommon in the town too tough to die. In Tombstone, women were as scarce as daisies in winter and until now, Josephine Marcus was considered the most beautiful woman in town.

That's about to change... Ringo says in his mind. Still in somewhat of a trance, Johnny watches you.

Ike Clanton nudges his younger brother. "Ain't she something. A ramera maybe?" Both brothers laugh.

Ringo, a gentleman flashes them both a look. Ringo holds women in such high regard, he considers them angelic beings who can save a man's soul.

"Nah, she ain't no whore," Curly Bill answers. "I can tell. What do you think, Ringo?" When Ringo doesn't answer because he's distracted by you, Curly Bill chuckles.

"I think Johnny might be a wee smitten with this newcomer!"

Johnny turns and looks at Curly. "She's alone. Unless she's meeting someone here. This is a dangerous place for a woman."

"Hell, Juanito. Guess we got ourselves a mystery here," Curly drawls.

The Cowboys watch while you gather a few things and head to the hotel.

Johnny Ringo instinctively tips his hat to you, but maintains his gunfighter persona. He's got a reputation as a feared outlaw and won't let his guard down.

The other Cowboys watch, nodding their heads.

"Howdy, ma'am," Ike Clanton says. You smile and move past them, your perfume intoxicating. The blue and white dress you're wearing hugs your figure just right and your hair is unbound and flows past your shoulders.

During the war, you lost your parents and your sisters and brothers became scattered around Missouri and Kansas, trying to evade the Yankees that still pursued Confederates and like the Cowboys, you're a proud rebel. Your decision to come to Tombstone was not an easy one to make. You could stay near Lars, close to your brothers or move to Liberty, Mission to be close to your sisters. You wanted to free yourself from the memories of the harsh war, just like the Cowboys. No reminder of any kind that everything has been taken from you by the dirty Yankees.

You walk up the steps to the hotel and explain you sent a telegram a few days prior to secure a room until you could find more suitable housing.

John Behan strolls up to you and removes his hat.

"You must be new here. Allow me to introduce myself. John Behan, town sheriff." He smiles, his eyes dancing. "What brings a lovely lady like yourself here?"

"I'm in need of a fresh start," you respond.

"Fresh start?" Behan chuckles a bit. People come to Tombstone to get rich, work as miners or gamble their time away. "And where's your husband?" He asks, taking a drag of his cigar.

You shake your head. "I'm alone."

Behan's dancing eyes grow wide with concern.

"Alone in a town like this? Not wise, ma'am. Whatever you need, you can find me at the sheriff's office. I'll help you become acquainted with some of the more decent folks here," Behan suggests, eyeing the Cowboys.

You pick up your suitcase.

"Here, let me help you with that," Behan suggests, putting his hat back on.

"No, I can manage," you answer with a half smile. You head up the stairs and pour some water into the basin near the bed. You wash your face and change your clothes. Although it's the afternoon, you're exhausted from your trip. You took the train from Missouri to Tucson and then rode the stage to Tombstone.

You fall onto the bed and settle into a secret dream.

When you awake, you gaze out at the night life in town. You can hear the hooting and hollering from men riding up and down Allen Street, their pistols blazing. You pull your blanket tight around you. Fear creeps into your heart and you grow increasingly concerned for your own well being.

Your exhaustion prevents you from heading downstairs. You fall back to sleep and awake the following morning.

The sounds of patrons sitting in the hotel restaurant for breakfast stirs you in your sleep. The walls are so thin, you can hear the clinking of silverware and the murmuring of the people downstairs. You quickly get yourself together, putting on a pink and cream colored dress. You're not one for bonnets or hats, you prefer to keep your hair down.

"Good morning!" The hotel owner announces. "Please sit and have some breakfast!" He heads to the kitchen and then back to the front desk. You can hear the cook singing in the kitchen. The old fellow comes out, mopping his sweaty face with his apron.

"Fatty, the cook gathers some dishes of the patrons who have finished their meals.

"Why do you pay them when I do most of the work?" Fatty barks at the hotel owner.

Emmett Steele, the hotel owner folds his arms as he doesn't like Fatty making scenes or complaining to the customers.

"Help out Fatty, Big Nellie," Steele says to a waitress who's flirting with some of the male customers. Nellie, a woman with considerable girth begins collecting dishes. She takes a half eaten biscuit and shoves it in her mouth while walking to the kitchen. You can hear her and Fatty talking, but you can't make out their words.

Big Nellie approaches your table, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Yes?" She asks.

"Eggs, bacon and biscuits," you order.

Nellie nods without a word and heads to the kitchen. She returns with a coffee cup and pours coffee in the cup.

"I'd like some cream and sugar, please," you request. Nellie nods and returns to the kitchen. She emerges in a few moments, carrying your meal on a tray along with a small cream pitcher and a sugar bowl. She places your breakfast in front of you. You eat quickly, hungrier than you realize. You sip the strong coffee and finish eating, sopping the last of your eggs up with a biscuit. You lick your fingers and then look around. Some folks stare, wondering why a woman would be in such a place alone. You smile as a gesture of your friendliness.

After finishing up the rest of your coffee, you place a dollar bill on the table. Big Nellie quickly grabs the money along with your empty plate. As you walk to the door, Curly Bill and Ringo walk in for breakfast.

Johnny Ringo stands, his demeanor one of intimidation while Curly Bill is a little more jovial.

"Well, good mornin'," Curly says, tipping his hat. He and Ringo find a table and order a large breakfast of hot cakes, eggs, bacon and steak. Pony Diel, who usually runs the chuck wagon didn't prepare breakfast that morning as he was sleeping off his barrel fever. And the fact that both Ringo and Curly got lucky at poker the night before and wanted to spend their winnings in town.

They both ate their breakfast without talking. They sipped coffee in between bites and Big Nellie couldn't keep their coffee cups full. After eating, Curly Bill lights up a cigar and blows the smoke slowly, almost methodically. Big Nellie came to collect their empty plates, looking disappointed that they didn't save any leftovers for her.

"Sorry, Big Nellie," Curly drawls. "Maybe next time. Sides, you know Fatty always serves up free chuck. Beans and tortillas! Everyday!" Curly Bill chuckles. He'd seen Big Nellie stuff herself with two, sometimes three helpings from the chuck Fatty provided. Looking as happy as a pig in mud, Big Nellie indignantly fed herself. And yet, she still got requests for after hour services she provided upstairs.

Big Nellie turns and heads to the kitchen.

While Curly Bill and Ringo walk through Tombstone with their bellies and pockets full, you are walking by the ice cream parlor and you notice a help needed sign. You enter the shop and walk to the counter.

"Well, stranger, what can I whip up for you? We got strawberry, chocolate and vanilla of course. We also have lemon and-."

"I saw your sign and I'll take that job!" The man behind the counter pauses for a moment. He twists the ends of his blonde, curled mustache.

"When can you start?" He asks.

"Now," you reply.

"Name's Jim. Jim Bonney. No relation to William Bonney."

You smile. "YN," you answer.

"Let's get you an apron. Job pays a dollar a day."

"Perfect," you answer. You want to save as much as you can so you can rent a small cottage outside of town. You think about growing a vegetable garden and enjoying the fresh air and peace, away from the bustling boom town. The hotel charges twenty five cents per day so you can easily save up.

Jim shows you where the supplies are, gives you a short tour of the place and trains you on the register. You pick up everything like a champ, learning quickly. You grew up on a farm so you're accustomed to hard work and long hours.

Then the war hit.

You snap out of your momentarily lapse and begin taking orders. The ice cream parlor is always packed, a long line sometimes reaches the door. But you keep working, much to the amazement of Jim who sees you as a fast learner.

At the end of the day, Jim tells you your shift is over. Big Nellie helps with clean up in exchange for the free scoop of ice cream Jim offers in exchange.

As time goes on, you begin to notice some regular customers. Even a few Cowboys come in. They're surprised to see you working there, but then they realize they have more reasons to enjoy ice cream.

"You know that little cutie we saw coming off the stage?" Barnes asks.

Ringo lifts his head, knowing Barnes is referring to you.

"Who could forget that little girl?" Curly Bill drawls, adjusting his hat. "She's got a face that could stop a stampede."

"She's working at the ice cream parlor now."

Ringo, who's usually quiet, ponders the possibility of getting to know you by becoming a regular customer. Besides, ice cream is wonderful on the hottest days.

"Guess we're gonna have to go get ourselves some ice cream, boys!" Curly guffaws. He looks to Ringo who seems lost in thought.

"Whaydya say, Johnny?"

"Sure," Ringo responds.

On this Wednesday afternoon, the crowd died down and you work on odd jobs such as sweeping or cleaning or checking on supplies. You hear the sound of spurs echoing on the wooden sidewalk and you turn your head to see Curly Bill swagger in, he winks at you. Johnny follows. When he sees you, you appear more beautiful than he recalls.

"Well, there's that ray of sunshine," Curly Bill chuckles. You smile, enjoying his charm.

Curly Bill stands tall, exerting his authority and strength. He knows most folks are afraid of him and to his delight, he sees some fear in your demeanor. He wears two gunbelts, one pistol resting on each hip, only adding to the ferocity of his appearance. The only other gunslinger you heard of that sported two pistols like that was Billy the Kid, an active participant in the Lincoln County War between John Tunstall and the Murphy Dolan faction. After Tunstall was shot to death by Murphy men, Tunstall's regulators, led by Bonney sought revenge.

Curly Bill enjoys the intimidation he evokes in you, knowing his presence is threatening. He folds his arms, taking in the flattery he's receiving from your fear.

Johnny Ringo stands tall and silent. He tips his hat to you and you nod.

"What...What can I get you, you ask, your voice shaking.

Curly Bill winks at you. "Well now, let's see," Curly mumbles. "First, what's your name?"

"YN," you respond.

"Mighty nice to meet you. I'm..."

"Curly Bill Brocius," you finish. He smiles wide, knowing you're aware of who he is.

"And this here is Johnny Ringo." Curly says.

Your eyes grow wide with fear. Johnny Ringo, fearless gunfighter with better aim than John Wesley Harding and Billy the Kid. A brooding man with a darkness that swelled inside of him. A darkness so intense, he felt choked by it often. When he fell into the depths of his own madness and marriage of guilt and shame that swirled in him, only a woman could pull him out of it.

Ringo sees your apprehension and curses himself. He was a gentleman born, he treated women with such dignity and respect, that his cowboys knew never to disrespect women if Ringo was within earshot. Like the time Ike Clanton remarked, "You boys see that little cunt from-"

"Damnit, Ike!" Ringo growled. "You keep talking like that, I'll bust you up!"

"Sorry, Ringo. I forgot how sensitive you are about that. Women and all " Ike answered.

From then on, no one dared speak poorly about women.

"We heard there was a lovely lady working here. And the talk around town is true." Curly Bill says.

Johnny nods.

"How about two chocolates," Curly suggests.

"Of course. Would you like a cone or would you prefer scoops in a bowl?"

Curly Bill looks around. Many patrons are enjoying their rich dessert while some are leaving, licking their cones.

"Two cones," Curly answers.

"That's twenty five cents," you tell them, your voice shaking a bit. Curly Bill chuckles to himself. Ringo enjoys dominating other men, but was awe struck when it came to the softer sex.

You give them their treats and Curly Bill gives you a crisp one dollar bill. Since his luck came through the previous evening, he felt it was only fitting to enjoy the town.

"Keep the change," Curly Bill tells you. He winks and walks out of the parlor.

"Thank you," you say to Ringo, your voice barely above a whisper.

Curly Bill devours his ice cream in just a few bites while Ringo savors his a bit longer. His mind goes back to your face and that there's something wildly different about you. It's more than your spirit of desiring some sense of independence in the changing new world since the Yankees won the war. Boom towns seemed to be the last place in the country where lawlessness ruled and for a single woman to make a living in a boom town seemed unusual. Especially one so beautiful.

You lust for adventure; you saw your whole world fall apart during the war. Your brother, Franklin died at Gettysburg and your parents were shot to death by Yankee squatters. You heard stories of Confederate women being forced to set their own houses on fire. The rebels all over the South revolted. Jesse James was one of the more formidable enemies of the Union. He, his brother Frank and the Younger brothers formed a gang of guerillas once ruled by Charlie Quantrill. You heard about how Quantrill and the James Younger gang rode into Lars, Kansas, sporting a black flag. They killed hundreds of Jayhawks that day. The war left the South broken with little opportunities. Unless you wanted to surrender to the dirty Yankees.

You decided you didn't have much else to lose so you may as well see for yourself what all the buzz meant regarding these up and coming towns. And Tombstone was more docile than Dodge or towns in Abilene, but still contained its fair share of violence. Now with the Cowboys and the Earps at odds with each other, it only added to the constant conflict.

But here you are, taking orders for ice cream cones and scoops, using it as an opportunity to meet some of the residents of the boom town.

After Johnny and Curly Bill finish the cold and rich dessert, they head off to the Dead End saloon, located at the end of Allen Street. It stood as one of the oldest saloons in the area, but drinks were cheap and the Cowboys weren't picky about the rameras.

"Women sure are beautiful!" Curly Bill declares, slapping Ringo on the back while they sit at the bar.

Johnny can't get your face out of mind. He sips his whiskey slowly, almost methodically while Curly and a few other cowboys flirt with the whores who gladly showed their merchandise.

Ike Clanton downs his drink and pulls a few bills out of his pocket. Ellen, one of the older prostitutes moves towards Ike who follows her upstairs, watching her hips sway. He wipes his beard and heads inside one of the rooms for Ellen's special treatment.

Curly Bill, Stilwell and a few others continue drinking and talking for a little longer. Then they took, followed the women upstairs.

Annie, one of the other whores was wiping down the mahogany bar and she glances over at Johnny. He motions for another whiskey and she brings him the bottle. He downs two shots and then stares out the window as if waiting for something.

"You alright, cowboy?" She asks.

"Please don't call me that," Ringo requests gently.

Annie nods. "You just look as though you forgot what women are for," Annie remarks.

Ringo looks at her.

"Ever think about someone special?" He asks.

"If I did, I wouldn't be doing this job!" Annie answers, laughing in an unlady-like manner.

"Come on upstairs, Johnny. Let me remind you what women are for."

Ringo is tempted. He values women and is nothing without their touch. But he can't get your face out of his mind.

"Maybe some other time." He remarks.

"Well, if all you're gonna do is drink hootch, you should take it somewhere else, Johnny." Annie reminds him.

Johnny takes one last shot and heads to the door. He goes to the livery where Amos, a kid from New Mexico is practicing with his shiny new pistol.

"Saddle her for me, Amos," Ringo requests.

Amos puts his gun back in the holster. "Hey, Mr. Ringo? Did Curly Bill really ride with Billy the Kid like he said? You think I'll ever be that fast?" Amos' eyes light up. Ringo chuckles at the site of the awkward kid who had dreams of being a gunfighter.

"Hell, I don't know when Curly is spinning yarn or telling the truth. He's a damn good storyteller though. I'll give him that."

Amos secures the saddle and Ringo inspects the cinch out of habit. "You've done good, Amos." Ringo gives the kid fifty cents.

"Well! Much obliged, Mr. Ringo!" Amos declares.

Ringo heads back to camp to spend some time alone. Your face in his brain and with every step, his heart aches more. He cannot understand the intense hold you have over him. He's seen pretty faces before. But something about you seemed strange and mysterious. He wonders what losses you endured under the Yankee oppression. His thoughts go back to the farm he grew up on. How his mother, so strong and beautiful picked up the pieces of their shattered lives after the death of Johnny's father. His mother often sat, a Bible in her lap and she would recite silent prayers. Time showed kindness to her; she maintained her beauty even though she worked tirelessly.

Ringo admired his mother and her strength. She expected all of her children to attend church every Sunday and Bible studies during the week. The scriptures tore at Johnny's aching heart that longed for life beyond the confinements of farm life.

Then he had a chance to attend a few semesters at a college in Kansas. His journey to the school seemed so long and lonely and he almost missed the farm. He studied for long hours, the sciences proved more difficult than literature. When not studying for the next chemistry exam, he would read. He blew through Shakespeare's plays and sonnets and also enjoyed Homer's work. He recalls reading about Sirens; beautiful women who presented themselves like angelic beings before they devoured unsuspecting sailors. He entertains the idea that you possess the qualities of a Siren. His mind spins when he thinks of you and can feel weakness creep into his soul. He shakes his head.

"Come on, old cowboy," he tells himself.

His thoughts return to the present. He pickets his horse and grabs a bottle of whiskey and lets the strong, burning drink move down to his belly. Two things he can't seem to live without: women and whiskey. He leans against a few rocks and sips his drink. A few Cowboys return, looking to get some sleep. The hot Arizona sun begins to melt behind the mountains in the distance. Ringo closes his eyes and falls into a dream.

In his dream, the sun's almost blinding light surrounds him in a blanket of warmth. He feels his heart lighten. In a soft breeze, he can hear your voice..."Johnny," just above a whisper. He looks at the large boulders and the trees that frame the spot he's in. He follows your voice to find you.

"Johnny, I'm here and everything is alright," you say, brushing the hair away from his face. Standing so close, he pulls you towards him and when he moves to kiss you, you disappear, leaving him with an ache in his heart. Dark clouds swell around him and cold rain begins to beat down on him. He wakes up panting.

"Holy Father of sinners," he says softly. He retrieves a pencil and some paper he's been collecting. He writes an entry in a new journal.

YN came to Tombstone and changed everything. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and I can't get her out of my racing mind. I resolve to have her. One way or another...

He tries to continue writing, but the words don't come to mind. His thoughts are like leaves in the wind that cannot settle. He wonders what you're doing and every time he closes his eyes, he's tormented by your sweet face and adventurous spirit.

He continues drinking, hoping it will numb his feelings.

You finish up your shift, collect your earnings and head to the hotel restaurant. They're still serving supper and you take a small table for yourself. Not in the mood to socialize, you eat by yourself, another trait not seen in many people. Your comfort with yourself seems odd and unusual, but inspiring all at the same time. You simply enjoy your meal while reading a book or the Tombstone Newspaper.

Big Nellie collects your plate and you give her twenty five cents which she grabs with her greedy fingers. You let out a sigh and head upstairs to bed. You fall asleep while reading. When you wake up the following morning, you realize you don't work that day so you decide to spend some time seeing the sites of the town.

You purchase a new dress; a plain brown skirt with a pink shirt with ruffles. "You look lovely, Mrs. Trask, the dress shop owner says. "We also have material if you want to make your own dresses. Can I show you?"

You shake your head and smile. "Just another shirt maybe."

"Certainly, dear." She returns with two blouses; one periwinkle blue and the other a plain beige. You purchase the items and then head to the stationary to look around and at the small music shop. After that, you decide to treat yourself to a drink. You enter a saloon and all eyes turn to you. A woman alone in a saloon usually meant she provided special services, but many folks have come to know you from the ice cream parlor.

You can hear the jingle of spurs and you turn to see Johnny Ringo walking in, following Curly Bill.

"Well, ain't this real nice, Johnny," Curly Bill nudges Johnny who sees you and can feel his face grow red. You turn and your heart skips a beat, partly from the fear they evoke and partly because you find yourself drawn to the Byronic Johnny Ringo.

"What's a pretty lady like you doin' here?" Curly Bill asks.

You stumble over your words and Curly Bill winks at your vulnerability.

Johnny Ringo leans in and asks, "please let me buy you a drink." He immediately regrets asking, but to his surprise, you say yes by nodding your head. Curly Bill, seeing Johnny's feelings, heads to the bar, leaving Johnny alone with you.

"This isn't the safest place for a lady," Johnny says in a low voice. "Not one like you. You should allow me to escort you. It would be my honor." He swallows hard, hoping you don't reject his concern.

You smile at him. "I appreciate that, Johnny." You answer.

While you sit through an awkward silence, you ask him where he's from.

"Texas," he answers. "You?"

"Missouri. Lost our farm when Yankees came through."

Johnny nods, understanding full well the loss the war created. "Us too," he says softly. "It seems so long ago, but it also feels like it just happened," you admit. Ringo nods.

"What are you drinking?" He asks.

"Maybe a glass of red wine." You answer.

Johnny motions for the bartender and asks for the best red wine in town. A few moments later, a waitress returns with a glass of red and a bottle of whiskey for Johnny. He looks over at Curly Bill z who's practicing his charm on the saloon girls.

"Old Curly thinks he's a lady's man," Ringo chuckles to himself.

While enjoying the company of Ringo, Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday walks in, their eyes narrowing in on you.

Wyatt comes to the ice cream parlor often so you're already acquainted, but you haven't met Doc Holliday.

"What do you think you're doing, Ringo?" Wyatt grunts.

He feels a hot redness move from his belly to his head.

"Earp," Ringo responds.

"Maybe you should take it somewhere else, Mr. Ringo," Doc drawls, taking a drag of his cigarette. His dark eyes look sunken against his pale, almost gray skin.

"He's here because I asked him to join me," you respond, doing the best to keep your cool.

"Ringo?" Wyatt demands. "You think I believe that?"

You understand the dilemma of the moment and because you like Johnny, you want to defend him.

"It's true, Wyatt," you answer, your voice with more confidence.

"I'll be watching, cowboy," Wyatt remarks before heading to the bar for a beer.

Ringo feels a rage swelling in him and humiliation he just endured proves too much.

"I should go. You should go." He says, his voice full of sadness. "You shouldn't be seen with me. It could give people the wrong impression."

His eyes, so full of confusion look down in shame. His guilt bubbles to the surface, reminding him he cannot ever be with someone like you.

He turns and leaves...

You let out a sigh. Curly Bill heads upstairs with one of the whores just as Wyatt and Doc approach you.

"YN, don't you know who that is? That's Johnny Ringo and if you're smart, you'll stay away from him. Trust me, that man is nothing but trouble. Nothing..."

"You need to ponder the consequences of such an association, my dear," Doc coughs, his blood shot eyes taking you in. "Not that I blame that worthless gunfighter. You're as lovely as a Georgia peach."

You move past Wyatt and Doc.

"YN!" Wyatt calls. "Stay away from him!" Wyatt catches up with you. Doc trails behind, his sickness making it difficult to walk quickly.

You turn to face Wyatt. "You don't know him!"

"I know the type. I've dealt with them long before my time in Kansas! He's nothing but trouble and you'll regret ever associating yourself with him. Take my word for it! I've locked up plenty of men like Ringo!" Wyatt grunts.

Doc Holliday finally reaches them. "Forgive my pace. As a Southern gentleman, I am quite lazy." Doc begins coughing, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and covers his mouth. He notices a small drop of blood on the handkerchief. He crumbles it up and puts it away.

"Wyatt is correct in his assessment of your gunfighter friend," Doc agrees.

"Why can't I judge for myself?" You demand.

"That's a sharp tongue you got there. You'd best stay out of trouble!" Wyatt demands.

You turn to see if you can find Johnny. He's leaning against a post, lighting a cigarette. He sees you coming closer and he puts the cigarette out.

"Johnny," you beg. "Why did you just run off like that?" You're almost out of breath.

"You shouldn't be seen with me," he tells you, his eyes full of shame and sorrow. "You're too special for this town. You should go back to where you came from!" You can hear the pain in his voice. He tips his hat to you.

"Good day, ma'am."

"Johnny! Wait!" You exclaim. A few townspeople look at the scene in shock, shaking their heads.

"Johnny!"

Johnny Ringo turns to you. "YN, you can't just run up to me like that. Don't you know how dangerous this place is? Besides, reputation is everything around here. I'd hate to see you branded with a reputation because of your association with me." He takes his hat off. "Trust me, I'm not worth your trouble." He looks intently into your eyes as if waiting for something.

"Can we just take a walk?" You suggest. "Just talk?"

He shakes his head. "I don't want anyone to think you're with me. It won't go well for either of us. That I can promise." You watch a tormented Johnny Ringo walk to the Silver Palace saloon.

You can feel your heart swell with defeat and sadness. You know what he's telling you is true; Tombstone was a town where reputation meant everything and once you've been branded it ain't easy to change what people think.

Ringo doesn't want anyone associating you with the red light district. He feels the special spirit that flows from you is too beautiful. Too important and he knows he could never forgive himself if anything happened to you.

You slowly walk back to the hotel. You decide to count what you've earned and start looking for a more permanent residence.

You head to the local real estate office. Bob Miller, an investor puffs on his cigar while shuffling through papers. He was a short and heavy set man who was always wiping his sweaty head with a handkerchief. You enter and he looks up and puts the papers aside.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" He asks, surprised to see a woman standing before him without a man.

"I want to see about renting a small cottage. Just one bedroom."

Bob stands, puffs his cigar and pulls his pants up as they're always hanging below his large belly.

"Your husband isn't here with you?" He asks.

"No. I'm not married. It's just for me."

He glances at you, his eyes wide. "Well, the bank doesn't loan money to women and well, we never had a woman renting anything here by herself. You fixin' to stay here for a while?"

"Yes. My business is my own. I-"

"Hold on, little lady. You plan on starting a sporting house? With one bedroom?"

You give him a confused look as he is implying you're a prostitute looking to rent a house and convert it to a house of ill repute.

"No. I work at the ice cream parlor. I just don't want to stay in town. That's all!" You clarify.

He continues puffing his cigar, looking a bit restless. "I've got a few little cottages open. But for me to take you without a husband... Well, I just don't know about that."

"Just tell me where it is! I can meet you there."

He looks over at you. He sees your desperation.

"Four fifty a month. I'll need the first month's rent in advance. Place hasn't been properly cleaned yet."

You open your purse and hand him a ten dollar bill. Since you began working, you've managed to save forty five dollars.

Bob checks the bill and puts his hat on.

"Ride past Oak Hill, I'll meet you at the pond." He tells you.

"I don't have a horse yet," you tell him. "Haven't had the need just yet."

"Well, Jack Pierce owns the livery. You can ask him to show you a few good animals. He's got a few geldings you might be interested in."

"Alright," you answer. "Thank you. I'll meet you at the pond."

Once you secure a home, you decide you'll purchase a horse and a good saddle.

Johnny Ringo stands at the bar and orders whiskey. He downs two shots and then pours another, wanting to sip it slowly. He feels like a fool for letting you go. His protective side showed itself; he's a pure gentleman and would do anything to feel the comfort of a woman's touch. And for her to show any signs of concern ignites a fire in him so strong, even Wyatt's icy blue stare could melt it.

At the Silver Palace saloon, Johnny is drowning his sorrows with whiskey and poker. He'd been lucky so far; a full house, two pairs of Jacks and three of a kind. He downs his last shot, collects his winnings and moves towards the door. Before he can exit, Wyatt, Morgan and Virgil walk in. Ringo Ringo tips his hat and moves past them.

"Not so fast, cowboy," Virgil warns.

"A man can't drink and play poker around here?" Ringo barks back. He's drunk, stumbling around.

"You can play all the poker you want and drink yourself into the grave for all we care," Morgan interjects.

"Stay away from YN," Wyatt demands.

"I told her already! You self righteous sons of bitches!" Ringo's head is spinning.

"Good. We have enough trouble around here with your kind!" Virgil groans.

"What about your kind?" Ringo asks indignantly.

"Sober up, cowboy!" Wyatt warns.

At that moment, Doc Holliday strolls in.

"Well, Mr. Ringo. Evidently you have succeeded in the task of making a complete fool of yourself."

"Damn you to hell, lunger!" Ringo spews.

"I reckon I just might," Holiday answers sarcastically.

Wyatt takes a hold of Ringo and tosses him aside. Ringo stumbles and hits the floor, an intense rage burning inside of him. He desperately wants to fight Holliday, but even in his drunken state, he has enough sense to know he's slower and Doc's hands were steady even after he's downed enough whiskey to kill a horse.

Ringo pulls himself to his feet. He turns and leaves quickly, not wanting to get into a shootout. In his frustration and anger, he can see your face and it fills him with a mixture of joy and sadness. Joy that he knows you and sadness in the reality that he can never have you.

He kicks the dirt while he goes to find Curly Bill who's enjoying moonshine with Claudia, the ramera he was with.

"Juanito!" Curly Bill bellows when Ringo enters the place.

"Meet Claudia," Curly says, tapping the woman on the behind. "She'll take real good care of you! Won't you, sweetheart?" Curly Bill winks at her.

"Of course, Johnny. Tell me what I can do for you."

Ringo looks away and heads to the bar.

"Aw, come on, son!" Curly Bill grunts, taking a shot of moonshine. "It ain't nothing!"

"Maybe next time," he says.

Curly Bill knows not to push Johnny. He watches his friend suck back shots at the bar.

"What's gotten into you, Ringo?" Curly inquires, motioning for the bartender.

"Don't ask, Curly. My head ain't straight."

"Of course it ain't! All them books you're always reading. I sure as hell wouldn't waste my time reading!" Curly Bill declares, guffawing loudly.

Johnny smirks. "It wouldn't hurt for you to spend a little time learning," he groans.

"I know all I need to know, Johnny! My game is rustling cows and horses too. Hell, I don't need to read old Willy Shakespeare for that. You may be smarter and well better lookin' than Old Curly, but I'm as tough as they come." Curly Bill sucks back his drink.

"You ain't still thinking about that little lady from the ice cream parlor?" Curly asks inquisitively.

Johnny turns and gives Curly a look. "You wouldn't understand," Johnny says.

"Johnny, I understand that women like Claudia over there are the best it's ever gonna get for us. May as well enjoy it while you can!"

Ringo stares Curly Bill down, knowing the big rustler was right.

"Ringo, Tombstone is a dangerous place and it ain't no place for a lady like that. You'd be doin' nothing but protecting her. What would folks around here say? You'd have those damn Earps breathing down your neck all the time and everyone here would assume she's a chippie. If you care about her, you won't get involved with her. She'd just break your heart anyhow."

"Enough, Curly." Ringo groans.

"Alright, son. Just giving ya some friendly advice is all." Curly turns and looks at the saloon and the patrons filling up the place. "Women are wonderful, ain't they Johnny?" Curly laughs.

"Yes. They are, Curly. They sure are." Ringo takes the bottle and heads to the door. He moves through the batwings and heads to the livery. Amos is, as usual practicing with his pistol.

"Saddle her, Amos," Ringo says calmly.

Amos replaces the gun in the holster. "Sure thing, Mr. Ringo!" The kid answers. "I'm gettin' real good with this here pistol! I might be faster than Charlie Quantrill someday!" Amos looks confused for a moment. "Hey, was Jesse James as fast as Quantrill?" Amos asks.

Ringo shakes his head while checking the saddle.

"I don't know, kid. I used to think I knew. Keep practicing. You never know when you're gonna up against someone real fast." Ringo tips his hat and spurs his horse along. "Come on, girl. Take this old cowboy home." He laughs. "Home?" The only home he ever had was in Texas. He headed back to camp. A few Cowboys were there, firing shots at empty whiskey bottles. They nod at Ringo, acknowledging his presence. Johnny takes the bottle of whiskey and sneaks away into his tent where he can experience solitude. He begins to write in his journal...

She doesn't know how dangerous it is around here. She's naive and lovely. I'm not sure why I can't stop thinking about her. I want to be the man that protects her. Perhaps I could take a walk with her...

Ringo closes his journal and tosses it aside. He holds his head in his hands, unable to shake the intense hold you seem to have over him.

He falls asleep and enters into another dream. This time he feels the oppression of the Union in his heart. He can see a house on fire. He covers his mouth to avoid the smoke and moves towards the house. Then he sees you...

"Johnny!" You scream. "Help me!" You run towards the front door, but it collapses before Johnny can save you. He awakes, gasping for air.

"YN!" He looks around. Then he realizes his reality.

Johnny rubs his temples while he sits up. He wishes he never saw you set foot off that stage...

You and Bob plan to meet at the cottage that afternoon so you gather a few things together and walk to the pond located just south of Oak Hill. When you arrive, the cottage looks somewhat new and there's room in the front for a small vegetable garden. You envision yourself pulling weeds out in between small rows of potatoes, zucchini, carrots and onions. You smile to yourself. With a location outside of town, you keep your fingers crossed that Johnny Ringo will come see you. You know he cares for you and you feel a rush of warmth and excitement flow through your body when you see him. If you could just break through those walls he hides behind...

"Ah, there you are." Bob pulls in the reins on the horse pulling his small, black carriage. He hops down, almost losing his balance and you can't help but laugh at the scene. He wipes his head with a handkerchief and grabs a small stack of papers. He pulls a key out of his pocket and leads you up the small stairs to the front door. The heavy door swings open and you both walk in, the door creaking.

It's perfect! You smile to yourself.

A round throw rug with dark patterns lays on the wooden floor and the kitchen is to your left. A small vase of silk flowers rests on a small table with four chairs and just past a small hallway lies the bedroom. A well furnished room with a twin bed decorated with a white and blue bedspread and a bookshelf is located on the wall near the door.

"Well, like I said, it's small. Perfect for a person alone. Oh, he says, let's go over everything."

You both sit at the table, you move the vase to the small wooden counter. Bob takes a pen out of his pocket and shuffles through the paperwork.

"I can rent it to you for a one year lease. After one year, rent usually goes up a bit. But not much around here. Most folks stay in town."

After you sign the lease, Bob gives you a copy of the agreement and a receipt for the first month's rent.

"You can move in now." Bob tells you. He puts his hat back on. He fiddles with the reins of his horse. "I'd give you a ride back into town, but uh... Reputation is very important around these parts. Would hate to see a lovely lady like yourself the center of town gossip."

"I understand," you answer. Johnny already informed you about the importance of reputation in a town like Tombstone.

You enter the home and put away a few things. You didn't bring much with you because you figured you could purchase whatever items you needed. The place looks clean and well managed. No dust lies on the bedspread and some dishes occupy the modest cupboard. You check for silverware and find a few random spoons and forks. You pump some water into the sink and feel pleased you have water. You glance outside at the soil in the front and sides of the house. You decide to go into town in a bit to purchase some grub at the general store; some fruit, fresh vegetables, bread, fresh eggs, a small side of bacon and coffee. Then your next goal involves purchasing a reasonable horse. You know you'll need a carriage or little buckboard. You refused a side saddle some time ago and you fear what people will think of they see you riding without your knees touching.

You pour some water into a basin and wash your hands and face. While you're wiping your face with a towel, you think of Johnny and wonder what the cowboy is up to.

Johnny sits outside his tent, leaning on the chuck wagon. He sips his whiskey slowly and listens to the slow cackling of the fire. He tosses stones into the fire. His thoughts return to you and the day you ran up to him in the middle of the street. His eyes fall to the ground. He fears for your safety and also desires you; he can't remember when he wanted something so badly.

A part of him wants to go to the hotel, break your door down and take you, making wild love to you. Then when he allows his mind to imagine you struggling under him, he's filled with guilt and shame. He sips more whiskey and stares into the fire. Pony Diel is on the other side of the chuck wagon rolling dough into biscuits. He whistles to himself, singing in between:

"I'm a good old rebel and that's just what I am...I'm glad we fought against it, only wish we'd won." He continues whistling.

Johnny finishes the last line for Pony..."I don't need no pardon for anything I done..."

Johnny lights up a cigarette, using his boot to strike the match. He lets the smoke billow from his mouth in a small funnel. "What's for supper, Pony?" Johnny asks.

Pony chuckling. "Biscuits, bacon and beans. You expectin' something better? Go into town. Out here, it's cowboy grub. Take it or leave it. Should be ready in a little spell." Pony goes back to whistling while Johnny finds his Bowie knife. His toenails have grown to the point where his feet feel cramped in his leather boots.

He removes his boots and then his socks. He wiggles his toes and begins to slice each toenail carefully. Each cut reminds him of the different events he'd been through. He can hear Curly Bill's loud guffawing and the sound of Curly's horse trotting into the camp

"Hey, Billy!" Curly calls Billy Clanton.

"Yeah, Curly?" Billy asks.

"Picket my horse, will you? But don't ride him. Just walk him over."

Billy complies and takes Curly's horse to the picket line and removes the saddle.

"Well, look at that?" Curly chuckles. "Johnny Ringo, feared outlaw tendin' to his toenails!"

"Gotta do some grooming, Bill. Makes me remember I'm still human. Johnny looks down at his calloused feet, the balls and heels are dirty with deep cracks in the callouses. He finishes up.

"You got competition in the ugly feet department," Curly laughs. "I gotta tend to my own doggies soon. Your feet ain't as ugly as mine!" Curly grunts.

Johnny continues his work. "Nobody alive has feet as ugly as yours," Ringo reminds Curly Bill.

"I reckon so." Curly answers. "But hell, gotta tend to those little things. Even us outlaws gotta take care of certain things."

Johnny finishes up and puts his socks back on, then his boots. Curly Bill sighs and can feel his own overgrown toenails.

"Well, it's my turn, I reckon."

Johnny lights up a cigarette. Curly Bill takes his knife and then removes his boots. He shakes them out and then takes his socks off.

"Damn, Bill," Johnny remarks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Make it quick before you stink up this whole place."

Curly Bill guffaws loudly while he begins the task of cutting his toenails. Scars from riding in rough terrain showed in the sunset. Curly wiggles his toes for emphasis. "These feet have been through a lot. They ain't tender, that's for sure."

"Ain't seen my own toes for a spell." His evens his jagged toenails so they don't snag his socks.

"Well, they ain't pretty, but they'll do."

"They're downright awful," Johnny answers, taking one last drag of his cigarette.

Curly Bill chuckles and skips his feet back into his boots, the familiar feeling of leather bringing him a hint of comfort.

"Juanito, you still thinkin' about that little lady? Not that I blame you. She's beautiful."

Johnny feels a pang in his heart. "Bill, she's gonna get me killed."

"I reckon. You start daydreaming about her when we're out rustling cows, you could lose your head real fast. You won't be fast no more."

"I know that," Johnny answers. "My hands aren't steady when I'm thinking about her. And that damn Doc Holliday. He can down enough rot gut to kill a damn horse and I've never seen hands so steady." Johnny shakes his head.

At that moment, Pony rings the chuck wagon iron. "Chuck's on! Come and get it!"

"Let's eat, Johnny." Curly Bill says.

The Arizona sun begins to set and the air feels still with the occasional breeze filtering through town. You walk quickly to the livery where Amos is sharpening a knife. When he sees you, he quickly puts the weapon away and tips his hat. His awkwardness due to his youth is endearing to you.

"Afternoon, ma'am? I don't have your horse. Least I don't remember putting up any horse for ya."

You shake your head. "I'm looking for Mr. Pierce. Id like to purchase a good quarter horse if you got one."

Amos shifts a little. "Yes, ma'am. We gotta a few quarter horses. I'll get Pierce for you. He's over at the assay office! I'll fetch him for ya."

When Amos returns, he follows Jack Pierce. Pierce, a tall man with dark features and wearing a new suit walks towards you. He tips his hat. You acknowledge him with a nod.

"We got a quarter horse, she just came in last week. You're just in time. You need a saddle too? I got a few used side saddles -"

"I want to purchase a small carriage and a traditional saddle."

"You plan on riding without a side saddle?" Pierce inquires, raising his eyebrows.

"I would like to ride the small carriage into town. There's a small area around the back of the ice cream parlor."

"Well, iffin' you ride in on your saddle, you can leave her here at the livery. Ten cents a day."

"Ten cents..." You ponder. With rent being $4.50 per month and another forty cents for the livery, you believe you can afford it. Since you plan on growing a vegetable garden, you wouldn't need to purchase too much grub in town. If you need, you can help yourself to the free chuck Fatty provides during the day.

"Do you have a carriage?" You inquire.

"Certainly, young lady. Come to the office here, we'll get everything in order for you."

Amos tips his hat to you as you leave. "Ma'am," he drawls.

"Get Daisy ready, boy," Pierce orders. "Get a saddle too. Check to make sure it's sturdy with a good cinch."

"Yes, sir," Amos responds. While Amos is busy with the horse and saddle, you follow Pierce to his small office. Pictures of Appaloosas and Arabians decorate the wall.

"Alright," Pierce begins. "Daisy is a reliable quarter. She won't give you any trouble. But I wouldn't enter her in any races anytime."

You chuckle under your breath. Pierce fills out a contract. You give him the money for the horse and agree to rent the carriage for five cents a day.

Everything is coming together. You say to yourself.

When you return, Daisy is secured to the carriage which only seats two people. It's a light brown color with beige trim. Nothing fancy, but good enough for you.

"Thank you!" You tell Amos, who blushes at your compliment.

"Sure thing, ma'am. Happy to help!"

You brush Daisy with your hands and she whinnies softly. "Come on, girl!" You mount the carriage and drive yourself home. Once you arrive, you unhitch Daisy and secure her in the small stable provided. The stable was built to house only one horse. You ensure she has oats and water before you massage her with a brush, talking softly to her. "We're gonna be friends, Daisy. You're going to help me win his heart, aren't you?" You smile to yourself. Johnny will see you as capable and independent now. And he won't have the fear of being together in town; he can easily ride out to your place to avoid public scrutiny. Your determination to secure a relationship with Johnny Ringo grows more intensely now.

You kiss Daisy good night and head inside. While in town, you picked up some grub so you fix yourself a little stew and tea and then get into bed, ready to start your day in the morning.

When you wake up, you can feel a soft breeze flow into the open window. You can hear Daisy neighing in the stable. The sky reflects in a bowl of blue with a few clouds moving slowly through the dying wind.

You rise, make yourself some coffee and prepare for your day. You ride your new carriage into town and unhitch Daisy, taking her to the livery.

"Ma'am!" Amos declares. "Nice to see you today! I'll take care of Daisy for ya."

You give Amos twenty five cents to pay for a few days and then give him a five cent tip.

"Much obliged, ma'am!" Amos says.

"Thank, Amos!"

While walking to the ice cream parlor, you see a help needed sign at the hotel restaurant. You decide to talk to Steele and Fatty while on your break to see if the job pays more than a dollar a day.

While scooping ice cream for patrons looking for relief from the heat, you hope Johnny Ringo comes in. Throughout the morning, you don't see him. You sigh, remove your apron and tell Bob you're taking your break.

You head to the hotel restaurant for lunch. Big Nellie is sitting at the counter, sopping up beans with a tortilla. She ignores you and continues eating, licking her fingers indignantly.

Fatty comes out of the kitchen, mopping his sweaty face with his apron. "Oh, Nellie! You keep eating, you ain't gonna be able to see your feet no more!"

"You should talk!" Big Nellie answers with her mouth full.

"You see?" Fatty tells you. "Stuffs herself all the time while I do most of the work!"

"Get a table ready for YN," Steele orders Fatty.

"Of course." Fatty answers. He brings you to a small table. "Special today, roast with mashed potatoes."

You gaze at the paper menu. "Light lunch, please."

"Of course! A special vegetable soup and a little salad. Sound good to you?" You nod.

After you finish your meal, you walk over to Steele.

"You're looking for help?"

"Yes," Steele answers. This place is getting busy and Big Nellie can't keep up with the demands. We need some assistance."

"What's the pay?" You inquire.

"Pay a buck fifty per day plus tips." Steele scratches his head and asks, "Beg your pardon, but aren't you working for Bonney at the ice cream parlor? You're looking for a change?"

"Something like that." You respond.

"Well, give Bonney a notice," Steele suggests. "He won't mind. Big Nellie is always available."

"Sounds reasonable." You say. "I'll let him know today. When can I start?"

Steele looks at you. "How about the first of next month?"

"Looks like I'll be seeing you next month," you say.

You walk back to the parlor full of excitement and a bit of apprehension.

You keep watching to see if Johnny comes in, but to your disappointment, he never shows. You hear plenty of commotion coming from the street and you can hear Curly Bill's loud guffawing while he struts down the street, baiting law enforcement officers to take his pistols.

At the end of your shift, Big Nellie comes in to help clean and get her free scoop of ice cream.

After you give Big Nellie a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream, you remove your apron and go to where Bonney is counting receipts.

"Mr. Bonney, I have to give my notice. I've been offered a job at the restaurant."

Bonney removes his glasses and looks at you.

"Well, it sure was nice having you. But there's always Big Nellie and there's a couple of ladies from the sporting house that can help. Not as pretty as you, but I understand you need to earn a little more."

You nod. Nothing will stop you from positioning yourself in line so you can talk to Johnny Ringo. You know the Cowboys eat at the restaurant often so it's the perfect place for you to work.

"Thank you, Mr. Bonney." You tell him.

Bonney puts his glasses back on and returns to the business of counting receipts. He clears his throat.

"This is a growing town, there will be plenty of people looking for work. How about you give me one more week?"

"Yes, of course!" You respond with delight. You hang up your apron and head out the door.

It's all coming together! You say to yourself.

Your last week drags on, but your determination keeps you going. With each scoop, each end of your shift, you become closer to serving Curly Bill, Johnny Ringo and the other Cowboys that dine at the restaurant. You chuckle to yourself while working.

Johnny Ringo and Curly Bill head to the Oriental to play a few rounds of poker, hoping to get lucky.

Wyatt sits at the Faro table while Doc and Morgan stand around, watching.

Curly Bill and Ringo sit at the poker table with a few other patrons and start playing. The first round, Curly wins with a full house and the second round, Johnny gets three of a kind. Wyatt quietly observes the Cowboys, ensuring they don't start any trouble.

Curly Bill tips his hat to Wyatt.

Curly Bill's luck continues so he plays a few more rounds before lighting up a cigar.

"Well, guess I'm good at this game." Curly declares. Both Ringo and Curly head to the bar to order more whiskey. Curly looks around at the few sporting ladies.

"What are ya thinkin', Johnny?" Curly bellows curiously.

"How bout spending some of our ill gotten gains on some lady fun? Little taste of home sweet home?"

Ringo feels tempted and imagines holding you close. Every other woman would remind him of you and although he's desperate for a woman's touch, his throbbing masculinity is almost unbearable, he decides against it.

"Oh, come on, Johnny. Women are beautiful. Women make everything better, don't they?" Curly says low. Johnny nods and decides his bodily functions won't relent and with the mounting pressure laying on his mind, he knows a woman can release the rage that consumes him. He follows Curly Bill up the stairs. Curly guffaws while tapping the behind of the woman he chose to lay with.

Johnny knocks on a closed door and a Mexican ramera opens it.

"He follows her curves and although the room fills him with a rare sense of tranquility, he feels saddened that he cannot make love to you. He also hopes you do not learn of his tendencies towards prostitutes; the only women who seem pleased to see him. Even when he reeks of whiskey, they offer smiles and kind words. Women were the only people he knew that ever showed him concern; even if that concern comes with a price, he doesn't care that much. A woman who tells him to stay careful fills him with inexplicable joy and comfort.

"I'm Maria. Tell me what I can do for you."

Johnny takes his hat off and she moves closer. They fall into a passionate kiss and Ringo holds her with the intensity he would if you were in his arms.

After his rage is released through her affection, she lays her head on his chest.

"I need you, YN..." Johnny whispers.

Maria sits up and looks at him.

"She must be something special if I can't distract you from her." She tells him, her accent thick and barely recognizable.

"Si," Johnny says softly.

Maria returns to her position, enjoying the gentleman gunfighter. He strokes her hair and she moves her hand to touch his face and she feels tears at his temples.

"You are ok, senor?" She asks.

Johnny wants to believe she genuinely cares. He knows you would...But he embraces the illusion anyway.

Instead of answering her, he makes love to her again, wanting to experience the passion of a woman. The only passion worth risking everything for.

Johnny Ringo falls asleep while Maria rests her head on his chest. His dreams bring him little relief; he imagines you on top of him, your strong thighs keeping you well balanced. He brushes the hair away from your face and you look at him with desire. You throw your head back and let out a sigh of passion. He moves his hands on your body; cupping and caressing your breasts while you ride him delicately with just enough strength and pressure to drive him wild. You smile down at him before throwing him over so he's on top of you. He slowly removes the little clothing you still wear, licking the space between your bossom. He gently laughs while you enjoy the moment too. He spreads your legs apart and uses his strength to keep you still. While you lay in helpless delight, he gently tickles your flower until you burst with pure ecstasy.

When he awakes from his peaceful and amazing dream, he feels his heart pounding with intensity so great, he needs to stand up to shake it out of him. He moves to wash his face, splashing water on himself from the basin that's available. He glances into the small mirror provided and only sees the sadness in his eyes. The longing for the true love of a good woman. And the only woman he can dream of is you.

"Senor Ringo," Maria says.

"Can I bring you more pleasure? Can I help you forget YN?"

Johnny flashes her a look of anger. She backs away and Johnny softens his approach.

"Lo siento..." Johnny says, taking her hand and kisses it.

"Esta Bien," Johnny tells her, his eyes growing intensely sad, full of guilt and shame. He always carried a space of shame when he indulged in the pleasures of women.

Ringo allows her to pleasure him again. While she mounts him and brings him to the moment when he's fully released from his rage, he feels his heart swell with sadness. He allows his tears to flow. He closes his eyes and falls into a fantasy that his moment of ecstasy is brought on by your touch.

Ringo generously pays her and gives her a little extra for her discretion. He leaves, feeling less full of rage and frustration, but guilt and shame creep around his heart. He lets out a sigh and composes himself. He walks with his signature gait back to the livery.

Amos was sitting down reading a dime novel. When he sees Ringo, he immediately stands, adjusting his hat.

"Says here Billy the Kid shot a man from fifty yards away! You think I'll ever do that?"

Ringo smiles at the naive boy, who has dreams of becoming a gunfighter. "I don't know, kid. I used to think I knew a lot of things. But remember, people don't choose to become gunslingers. The gunslinger life chooses us."

Amos looks confused. "Whatchu mean, Mr. Ringo?"

Ringo shakes his head. Amos saddles the horse for Johnny.

"Nice quarter horse," Johnny remarks. "When she get here?"

Amos shrugs. "Little over a week ago. YN from the ice cream parlor is keeping her here."

"Is that so?" Johnny asks, his voice just above a whisper.

"Matter of fact, I reckon," Amos responds. "She sure is a sweet lady, ain't she?"

Ringo looks to the ground. "She is that," he answers.

"Well, she told me she's gonna be working at the hotel restaurant."

"When?" Ringo inquires.

"Day she bought Daisy. Sure is a nice horse."

"I wonder why she..." Ringo begins thinking. He and the Cowboys enjoy dinner at th toe hotel restaurant often. His heart skips a beat thinking about seeing her more regularly.

"What's that, Mr. Ringo?" Amos asks.

"Nothing." As always, he checks the cinch. After he mounts his horse he heads to camp.

The following morning, you wake up early, eager to start your first day at the restaurant. You make yourself a small breakfast and some coffee. Once ready, you go to the stable to retrieve Daisy. She whinnies and seems happy to see you. You talk to her while hitching her to the carriage.

"It's coming together, girl. I won't give up. Don't let me give up, girl!" You kiss Daisy in the nose. You decide to pick up some carrots for her after your shift ends. You enter the carriage.

"Giddyap, girl!" You say, your voice is full of enthusiasm. You ride into the busy town and you're a few minutes early. You survey the area, hoping to see Johnny Ringo. To your disappointment, he's not at the restaurant. You shake off your doubts and take Daisy to the livery.

"Mornin', ma'am!" Amos declares happily.

"Good morning, Amos." You give him a quarter tip.

"Thanks, ma'am! Come on, Daisy!"

You let out a sigh while hurrying to the hotel restaurant. When you enter, Steele walks over

"It's going to be real nice having you work here with us. Head into the kitchen, Fatty will show you the ropes. I reckon you'll learn quick."

Steele's prediction came true; you picked up everything quickly and after a few days, you were taking orders and ensuring patrons got their meals quickly. You and Fatty sometimes joke a bit and you appreciate the camaraderie.

At the end of the week during the lunch rush, Johnny Ringo, Curly Bill and a few other cowboys enter the restaurant. Their presence commands the attention of everyone in the area and Curly Bill soaks up the flattery he feels from the fear he evokes in people.

Your heart races with excitement and you head into the kitchen to catch your breath. You reach into your pocket and pull out a small tube of lipstick. You put a bit of color on your lips, fluff your hair and head to where the Cowboys are sitting.

Curly Bill asserts his dominance and authority, hoping you too show signs of fear, especially in the presence of his cowboys.

"Well, ain't you a sight," he drawls.

Your eyes show gratitude and you feel overwhelmed by your nervousness. Curly Bill smiles almost deviously. He nods, expecting your obedience.

"What can I bring you gentleman?" You ask, your voice shaking a bit. You try your best to maintain control, but the sight of Johnny Ringo along with the Cowboys fills you with a gear you weren't quite prepared for. You can see now why so many folks are truly intimidated by these men.

"Most folks don't have the guts to talk to us. Usually Fatty takes our orders," Curly Bill declares.

You feel your heart sink at Curly Bill's comment.

"I'm here to help Fatty," you answer, showing a smile.

Curly Bill folds his arms and sits back, enjoying the exchange. "That so?" He asks rhetorically.

You nod.

"Bill," Ringo begins.

"It's alright, son," Curly drawls. "Just making sure she knows who's in charge around here." Curly still sits with his arms folded. He can understand why Johnny is so smitten with you.

You look around the restaurant and notice other patrons waiting for your service.

"Why don't you look at the menu and I'll come back," you answer, your voice shaking.

Curly Bill nods. "But don't think we're friends." He growls.

"Bill," Johnny begins. "Let her be," Johnny says. Johnny understands Curly's need to dominate people and the need to maintain his reputation as a feared outlaw. Any sign of weakness could bring trouble to men like the Cowboys.

"Look at her smiling like she ain't got no care in the world," Curly continues. "Folks ain't nice lessen they want somethin'," Curly reminds Johnny.

Curly Bill already sucked back several whiskey shots before they came to the restaurant and the effects of the rot gut caused him to grow impatient and sometimes down right mean. Ringo hopes Curly Bill doesn't cause a scene and he also hopes you don't get your feelings hurt as that is a reflection on him.

Ringo feels torn; he understands the position he and the gang are facing by letting their guard down too quickly. He also cannot stand to see you afraid of him.

You return with a smile and a tray of coffee cups. You head to the kitchen and return with a pot of coffee and begin pouring coffee for the Cowboys.

"Thank you," Johnny says softly.

"Much obliged," Ike Clanton grunts.

The other Cowboys murmur their mild gratitude, still skeptical of your kind demeanor.

"You're very welcome," you say smiling.

Curly Bill leans forward. "You think you're better than us? Just going about like you ain't scared of anything?" He grumbles.

"I'm just here to serve you. Give you the best service I can." You continue smiling, hoping it will soften the rough exterior of this wild and dangerous group of gunfighters. But their skepticism of kindness towards them bubbles under the surface.

"As long as you know who's in charge around here and it ain't the law," Curly growls.

You nod your head and manage a smile, still trying to hide your fear.

"You got guts. I'll give you that," Curly Bill observes. "Most folks would have run for the door by now."

"Well then you would lose the opportunity for me to serve you," you respond doing the best you can to keep your emotions from flowing.

Curly Bill grins mischievously, hoping his reputation and larger than life personality is working on you.

Curly Bill sits back and looks you up and down.

"I reckon so. But we ain't friends," Curly declares.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, gentleman?" You ask, smiling as best as you can.

"You're nothing but a pretty face!" Curly Bill drawls. "You think you can stand here and not be afraid? Do you have any idea who we are?"

You nod your head. You suck back your tears. You also understand that Johnny doesn't want to start a situation he wouldn't be able to undo.

"Good," Curly says. "See? You ain't as fearless as you think you are!" Curly Bill slurs.

Your heart sinks.

"Come on, Bill," Ringo interjects.

"Alright," Curly Bill responds. He looks at you. "But this ain't over." He gulps his coffee and wipes his mouth with his large hand.

You return to the kitchen and burst into tears. Fatty comes over and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"I guess I shoulda warned you about those Cowboys," Fatty says with regret in his voice. "A pretty lady like you don't deserve that."

You resolve to regain your composure and your strength. You suck back your tears and run your hands through your hair. You nod. And the realization of the dangers of living in a boom town becomes clear. Far from the farm you grew up on you find yourself almost regretting coming here. But you see Johnny's face and you decide to keep going. In your defeat, you find the courage to face Curly Bill and the Cowboys.

You take a deep breath. Fatty gives you a reassuring hug and a pot of coffee. "Go refill their coffee, sweet lady." Fatty winks at you and mops his head with his apron.

You return to the dining area to refill their coffee.

"Your meals should be right out," you say softly.

Curly Bill, feeling pleased he's intimidated you, sits with his arms folded. He nods. "Good. You just walk around here without a care, is that it?"

"Mr. Brocius, is there anything I can get for you?" You ask. You look at Johnny, whose eyes glisten with concern.

"Thank you for your service to us," Johnny says.

Your heart skips a beat and you smile at Johnny.

"Well, ain't that real nice," Curly Bill responds with a hint of envy in his voice.

"You're welcome," you respond and with trembling hands, you pour their coffee.

"Not as tough as you think you are," Curly Bill grunts.

"Mr. Brocius, I'm not here to upset you." You say, a hint of fear in your voice.

"Then why are you here?" Curly Bill leans forward. "Just flash that pretty smile and serve people?"

"I'm just here to do my job."

"As long as you understand I'm the one in charge around here and iffin' you don't understand that real quick, you'll be walking a fine line."

Johnny looks at you and then back at Curly Bill. He doesn't want the scene to escalate with you getting hurt and he knows he needs to maintain his loyalty to Curly Bill and the Cowboys.

"You've been real nice and we appreciate it." He tells you. He puts his head down and then sips his coffee. You return to the kitchen and are able to carry four dishes at once. You walk over to their table, ensuring you serve Curly Bill first.

"Well, look at that," Ike Clanton mutters. "Carrying all them plates."

Curly Bill and the Cowboys begin eating and you return with two more plates for Stillwell and Barnes.

"Is there anything else I can bring you," you ask.

"Keep that coffee coming," Curly Bill answers, without looking at her.

"Of course, Mr. Brocius," you respond. You head back to the kitchen, tears welling in your eyes. The weight of the feeling of defeat lays upon you like a dark cloud. Fatty comes over with a cup of tea for you. "I'm really sorry, YN. Them boys...Well Curly Bill Brocius... he's a feared man. He don't trust easy.

You nod.

"There's somethin' else," Fatty continues. "Curly Bill has earned the respect of his men and he's earned the respect of everyone who's crossed him." Fatty wipes his head with his apron.

"But..they got heart." Fatty wipes his head again. He rubs his tired eyes.

"Curly Bill has a soft spot. Trust me. I know. You may already know how important reputation is around here."

"I saw nothing soft about him," you say. "He looks like someone I would never want to upset or..." You lower your eyes.

"I reckon you didn't..." Fatty replies. "Curly Bill went through some bad stuff after the war." Fatty places his hands on his hips.

"Almost got eaten alive by insects at a makeshift prison at a Texas Rangers camp. 'Those sons a bitches tied Curly Bill to a stake and left him there half the night! Old Curly had insect bites on him from head to toe." Fatty shakes his head. "You can understand why he's so cautious. And that ain't all. He and Dutch Martin were arrested in '79 by Texas Rangers. In the dead of winter, he and Dutch were tied up with their arms behind their backs so they couldn't warm themselves. Ringo was apprehended by a Union group and they tied him to a fence post and whipped him until he almost passed out." Fatty shakes his head. "Those Yankees took everything. They just kept coming, marching all over the South."

You nod your head slowly. You lost family during the war and your family is scattered. You never endured the torture Curly Bill and Ringo did. The Union was especially cruel to Confederate outlaws.

You gather yourself, run your hands through your hair and take a deep breath. "I'm not giving up," you tell Fatty. "I left everything behind to come here. I'm getting a taste of the west."

Fatty grins. He puts a supportive hand on your shoulder. "I reckon you are. Just keep up the good work. Curly Bill will soften a bit. He ain't all bad. You're a lovely lady and well, that's..."Fatty pauses. "Gives folks a reason to wonder. But I reckon you working here will help. You'll be able to meet folks around here."

You nod. You take the coffee pot and return to the dining room.

With a trembling hand, you pour coffee into the cups of the Cowboys.

"Much obliged, ma'am," Ike Clanton tells you.

You show an appreciative smile. "Of course."

Ringo hates seeing you in such a state of fear and knowing one of his own caused it, rips at his heart. "Thank you, YN. We all appreciate your fine service."

"Thank you, Mr. Ringo, you say, your voice low and your eyes to the ground.

"Johnny," he tells you.

Curly Bill smirks. "Well ain't that a fine how do you do?"

You return to the kitchen and come back with fresh, hot biscuits. Curly Bill eats without acknowledging anyone. Then he looks at you.

"Alright," he grunts, shoving food in his mouth. Johnny eats slowly in a more refined manner. Although his mother came from a farming background, she carried herself in such a way, she appeared sophisticated and elegant. She always enjoyed her meals slowly. And in some ways, you remind Johnny of his mother; underneath her delicate appearance, lived a woman of formidable strength and courage with beauty time couldn't alter.

You bring the Cowboys their tab; it comes out to $2.50. Curly Bill hands you a ten dollar bill and tells you to keep the change. A stark contrast from his behavior earlier. You wonder if perhaps Fatty was right and that a softer side of the big rustler would reveal itself. When your shift ends, you enjoy some soup before you go to the livery to retrieve Daisy. Your heart still aches from the harshness you endured under Curly Bill Brocius, but you know you cannot quit and allow him to push you out of town.

When you arrive at the livery, you see Johnny Ringo talking to Amos.

Johnny sees you and feels his face grow red. Your hair flows freely and your beautiful eyes seem to sparkle even through the dying sun. Johnny straightens up and tips his hat.

"Take care of her first, Amos," Johnny orders. "I'll get my horse after."

"Sure thing, Mr. Ringo!" Amos obliges. He heads in to retrieve Daisy. Seeing her brings you unexpected comfort and relief.

"Hey, girl," you whisper, kissing her on the nose. You hold back your tears that want to burst through your tired eyes. Seeing Daisy makes you feel like you're seeing an old friend who can offer some relaxation and relief from your stressful first day working at the hotel restaurant.

"Mighty nice horse," Johnny comments. "She really seems to like you, YN." He smiles a genuine smile at you.

"She's my only friend so far," you reply, regretting your comment. "I mean, I haven't had a chance to really make any friends yet."

"You've been busy since you arrived," Johnny comments. "First working at the ice cream parlor, buying a border and buggy and then putting up with the Cowboys during lunch today." He looks down at the ground and shuffles his feet as he does when he's feeling nervous.

"Yeah, I reckon so," you tell him. You let out a sigh and run your hand through your hair. Johnny fights his internal urges. The throbbing manliness of his body weakens his knees. He knows his face must be red and he's grateful for a shadow that stretches across his form, hopefully hiding his flushed demeanor.

Johnny clears his throat. "It's real dangerous here, YN. Keep your head about you. This town ain't fit for a woman like you. Big Nellie is one thing; she can handle herself well. But you... You're... Different," he finally manages to say.

"After the war, my family just scattered throughout the country, trying to repair their lives. Our farm is...Gone."

Johnny nods sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that," he offers a half smile.

"I guess I wanted a fresh start and I couldn't stay in Kansas. Everything reminded me of..." You pause.

"Yankee oppression?" Johnny finishes.

You nod. "Yeah. I would walk through town and see most of the buildings leveled. I wasn't going to stay there and try to rebuild. I needed to get away from all of it."

"And you chose the town too tough to die," Ringo says, forcing a smile. Johnny squints from the sunlight. "Trust me, Dodge is worse."

"That's what I've heard. I was never near Dodge City," you reply. "I'm hoping to find my way here." You tell him.

"I'm sure you will," Ringo responds. He looks around to ensure nobody is watching him interact with you.

"Well, I should get home. I'm doing breakfast and lunch tomorrow. I really need to get some rest."

"I thought you were staying at the hotel?" Johnny inquires.

"I was. I am renting a small cottage just about a half a mile from here."

Johnny raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

You stand a little taller, feeling confident that you're independent.

"Yes. I didn't want to stay in town. Where do you stay, Johnny?"

Johnny Ringo felt a lump in his throat. He doesn't want to tell you that he sleeps in a tent at the Cowboy camp and he's too ashamed to admit he can't usually afford to stay in town. He feels flushed again and anxious to be elsewhere before someone sees the two of you together and makes trouble for you.

"We got a shack about a mile from here. It's not so bad." He feels himself growing embarrassed. You don't push the issue since you understand how secretive Johnny Ringo can be.

"I should get home," you say to Johnny. "I just need to hitch Daisy."

"Let me help you with that," Johnny offers.

"Oh, Johnny! You don't have to!"

"It's alright. I've hitched plenty of horses." You walk together and Johnny hitches Daisy and then helps you into the carriage. He hands you the reigns.

"You take care of yourself, YN," Johnny tells you.

"Thank you, Johnny," you smile, feeling a little lighter and less stressed. "You're welcome. Get home safe."

You watch Johnny with his signature hair back to the livery. Your heart skips a beat while you relive the moment in your mind and your heart.

When you return to your modest house, you unhitch Daisy, ensuring she has water and grains. You brush Daisy and talk to her.

"This was a tough first day...I really like Johnny Ringo. I think he likes me too. I just don't know. Curly Bill treated me so badly and I am so afraid of that man! But then he gave me a very generous tip. I don't know, Daisy!" You start to cry a little.

Daisy brings you home and you unhitch the carriage, ensure Daisy has grain and water and head back to your modest home.

After a modest supper of meat and vegetables, you clean up a little, make yourself some tea and get ready for bed.

Johnny Ringo heads back to camp with a smile on his face. He relives the moment he shared with you. Seeing your beautiful eyes gazing up at him with concern and your clear devotion to him. He feels guilty over the scene with Curly Bill. He lets out a sigh and continues riding slowly. If he tries to intervene, Curly Bill with his unpredictable nature and dangerous tendencies could have caused further harm to you. The last thing Johnny Ringo wants is for you to leave.

He dismounts and tells Ike to picket his horse. Ike begrudgingly obliges. Johnny takes his saddle and rests it near his tent. He can smell the familiar aroma of beans, bacon and biscuits.

Ringo enjoys his food slowly, sipping coffee in between bites. He notices the sun falling behind the mountains and he laughs to himself that he rarely allows himself to delight in nature's wonders. He can still feel your presence and the aroma of your perfume still lingers in his nostrils. He takes a bite of biscuit and notices his mood starts moving in an upward direction. Normally, be would finish eating, grab a bottle of rotgut and retreat to his tent to either write his sorrows in his journal or escape them through old Willy Shakespeare. But on this early evening, he feels a renewed sense of peace. He looks over at Curly Bill, still a little annoyed for the way the big rustler treated you. Curly Bill could demonstrate charm and charisma at times and other times he feels an overwhelming need to assert his authority and throw his weight around. In Curly's mind, places like Tombstone don't suffer fools and if a person can't handle the harshness of such territory, they should head east where life is more predictable and safe.

Curly Bill viewed women in a way that usually included indifference; a means to an end. Women cured a man's loneliness and longing for human connection. In the end, Curly Bill possessed more of an unromantic view. Johnny figured it stemmed from Curly's past, present and his fierce reputation. Curly often pointed out that women cause a man weakness and if she's a beauty, the memory of her could make a man daydream and he could lose his cool, his mind...And his life.

And much truth came from Curly Bill's perception. Their line of work came with dangers such as rival gangs, Apaches or vengeful Commanches, grizzlies and other wild animals, rattlers and trigger happy bounty hunters. So, in a sense Johnny could appreciate Curly's perspective on women. He also feels Curly Bill can take it too far, especially if he perceives someone in a light that shows they lack fear of him or don't seem intimidated. He also possesses a side capable of strong feelings and Curly's loyalty was unshakable. Johnny knows eventually Curly Bill will give you a chance to show your own loyalty.

Johnny finishes his meal and lights up a new cigar, blowing the smoke in billows of tiny clouds that swirl through the stiff air. He can't help but feel a renewed sense of happiness. For the first time in a very long time, Johnny Ringo allowed himself to feel the warmth of happiness and he embraces this vulnerability with slow and steady steps.

"Juanito!" Curly Bill bellows, awakening Johnny from his peaceful moment.

"Curly," Johnny responds.

Curly Bill sits next to Johnny, holding a coffee cup full of whiskey. Curly sips it and grimaces. "Not sure where Pony found this rot gut."

Johnny looks forward, almost ignoring Curly's presence which poses a serious challenge; Curly Bill wasn't easy to ignore.

"Well, I reckon I took it a little too far with that lovely lady."

Ringo flashes a look at the big rustler sitting next to him, a look of disbelief.

"You always want people afraid of you. And most people are, Bill." Johnny speaks softly, enjoying his cigar.

"Too much damn tornado juice," Curly answers, trying to find an excuse for his obnoxious behavior. "Hits my head hard." Curly Bill let's out a sigh. He feels disgusted with himself when he's had so much and can't leave the damn fire water alone.

"Well, maybe you owe her the apology," Ringo suggests.

Curly Bill frowns. "Well, I guess."

"You ain't afraid, are you?"

"Me? Afraid of some pretty little thing like that?" Curly guffaws. Internally, he struggles with the idea of offering a genuine apology which would create a rare moment of vulnerability the big cowboy isn't used to.

"That'd be real fine, but not in front of any of you boys," Curly grunts. Ringo chuckles seeing a softer almost fearful side of Curly Bill Brocius.

The morning sun bathes your room with its welcoming of a new day. You push the covers off and let your bare feet hit the wood floor. You stretch and yawn while moving to your basin so you can wash up. You hear Daisy neighing a little. After a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs and a biscuit, you dress yourself in a modest beige skirt with a pink and white blouse. After brushing your hair, you head out to hitch Daisy.

"Good morning, girl!" You announce. You kiss her nose and she puts her head on your shoulder. "Today's gonna be better!" Once hitched, you ride into town and put your buckboard behind the hotel and walk Daisy to the livery.

Amos is sitting on the ground with his legs out and crossed at the ankles. He stands up and adjusts his hat.

"Mornin', ma'am," he says with enthusiasm. "I'll take real good care of her!"

"I know, Amos," you answer. Amos has been one of the few people in town who makes you smile.

When you enter the restaurant, Curly Bill is talking to Fatty while the Cowboys are outside, talking and puffing their cigars.

You pause in mid step at the site of the rustler. You lower your head.

"Good morning, Mr. Brocius," is all you manage to say.

Curly Bill pats Fatty on the back and moves towards you, your heart racing. You look around for Johnny, but you don't see him. You can hear the Cowboys laughing and talking outside. The restaurant isn't open for breakfast yet and you're wondering what Curly Bill wants from you. You fear he'll advise you to stay away from Johnny and then start mocking your fear.

He takes his hat off and looks around.

"Good morning," Curly responds, his voice low.

"Can I start an order for you?" You ask, your voice shaking a bit.

Curly Bill can't help but feel a pang of guilt for making you fear him so much, especially since you have shown kindness to him and his Cowboys.

"No, that's alright. I just wanted to say I owe you an apology for the way I acted the other day. I guess I ain't used to someone being so nice, especially someone as pretty as you." Curly Bill can feel his chest tighten at his vulnerability; he's not used to letting his guard down.

He's pleased when you smile and then look at the floor.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Brocius," you answer, the trembling in your voice diminishing.

"Call me Curly Bill! I think you earned that right, puttin' up with me and all."

You manage a smile and Curly Bill feels a sense of envy towards Ringo and perhaps that motivated his harshness towards you. You want Johnny Ringo and Curly, along with the other Cowboys can't help but feel a sense of jealousy. That Ringo can charm you, but they cannot.

"I...." You begin.

"You don't owe me nothin'," Curly Bill tells you.

You nod to show you understand. He puts his hat on and brushes a hair behind your ear. Your first instinct is to move away, but his presence commands respect and authority in a way unfamiliar to you.

"Johnny sure is lucky," Curly says.

"Johnny?" You ask, your face turning red. You didn't realize your affection for Ringo showed in your face.

"It's alright. I know Johnny likes you and well, you like him too, flaws and all. We should all be so lucky, huh?" Curly drawls.

You smile and Curly Bill winks at you before stepping out, the sound of his jingling spurs echoing on the wood floor.

Your heart feels lighter, but you still experience a sense of uncertainty. You watch Curly Bill meet up with his cowboys and they head down the street. You glance around, but don't see Johnny and your heart sinks.

Johnny Ringo sleeps soundly in his tent, letting the warm sun and soft breeze bathe him like a peaceful embrace. He opens his eyes and looks around. He can hear some cowboys talking or laughing while others do odd jobs such as gathering fire wood for their campfire, checking the shoes of their horses or boiling water to do some laundry. He exits his tent and stretches, feeling aches from sleeping on the hard ground all night. He moves slowly to the chuck wagon and sees Pony greasing one of the wheels.

"Mornin', Ringo!" Pony declares. "My hands ain't right for making no chuck right now, but there's some biscuits left. Got some jerky too."

Johnny pours himself a cup of coffee and grimaces. "It's damn cold, Pony," Ringo complains.

"Yeah, sorry," Pony answers, spitting on the ground. "Forgot. There's a little fire left there. You can heat it."

Johnny places his cold coffee near the dying fire. He uses a small washcloth to hold the handle that grew hot from sitting near the fire. He sips it and then grabs a couple of biscuits.

"Where's Curly?" Johnny asks, without looking at Pony.

"Said he had to take care of something in town." Pony answers, shaking some grease off his hand.

""Damn, ain't got no washin' water!" Pony growls. "Hey, Claireborne!" Pony shouts. Billy Claireborne looks up. "Fetch some washin' water!"

Claireborne puts his coffee cup down, grabs the bucket for washing water and heads to the river that flows near the camp.

"Hurry up boy!" Pony grunts. Claireborne looks back and then shakes his head.

When Claireborne returns, he places the bucket of water near Pony.

"About time!" Pony frowns.

"Shoulda fetched the water before you started greasin' that damn wheel!" Claireborne answers.

"You wanna eat, adjust your attitude, son!" Pony shouts.

"You overheat the coffee and the biscuits are like rocks sometimes!" Billy Claireborne fires back.

"I reckon you'd be a better cook?" Pony challenges Claireborne.

"Calm down, Pony," Ringo commands, sipping his coffee and chewing on a biscuit. "Sometimes your biscuits could break a man's teeth, Pony." Johnny dips the stale biscuit in his coffee to soften it. He laughs to himself while he enjoys the improvisation of dunking a stale biscuit into warm coffee. It seems something you would do.

"Curly's in town, you say?" Ringo inquires, squinting from the morning sun.

"Yep," Pony says, washing the grease off his hands. To Ringo's disgust, Pony takes the greasy water and throws some on his face. Ringo shakes his head at the level of how uncivilized his comrades are.

"Well, I'll be damned," Ringo whispers.

"What's that?" Pony asks.

"Nothing. I'm going into town to get some breakfast," Ringo smiles, thinking about enjoying a meal at the hotel restaurant.

Ringo saddles his horse and spurs him into town. He rode fast, enjoying the wind against his face and the feeling of a strong horse between his legs. This carefree and often lawless life became the only existence he knew. An untamed way of living without the restrictions of law and order. And his brotherhood with his cowboys gave him a sense of belonging, a part of something that wouldn't condemn or admonish him in the way society and even his family did.

Johnny slows his gelding and walks to the livery. He sees Daisy and relief floods through him; it was the proof you're waiting tables at the restaurant.

"Well, howdy, Mr. Ringo!" Amos announces, holstering his shiny pistol.

"Good morning, kid," Ringo answers, a hint of excitement in his voice. Excited to see you.

Amos takes the saddle off the horse and watches Ringo cross the street with his signature gait.

Ringo looks around and sees a few of his red sash companions scattered throughout town. Some of them were lounging near one of the hotels while others chatted with prostitutes, some lighting up cigars. He doesn't see Curly Bill, but can hear his loud guffawing coming from one of the saloons. Johnny decides to let his companions be while he gets some breakfast and a moment or two with you.

Johnny Ringo walks into the restaurant and waits to be seated. Fatty, who is making bacon and biscuits and frying eggs winks at you.

"There's fresh coffee!" Fatty announces. "You take some coffee to Johnny." Fatty returns to cooking and calling out orders. Big Nellie helps out when she can, taking orders and serving up plates. She considered leftovers a reasonable tip most of the time, but also grabbed change with her fat, greedy fingers.

"Good morning, Johnny," you say kindly, pouring coffee into his cup.

"Good morning to you," Johnny responds with a playful tone in his voice.

"It's wonderful to see you," you answer, suddenly feeling foolish. Johnny notices your apprehension and puts his hand on your arm. "I feel the same way about you," Johnny tells you.

"Johnny..." You whisper softly.

"What time do you get through working?" Johnny asks, his eyes meeting yours.

"I'm off after lunch," you tell Johnny, your voice is low.

Johnny takes your hand much to your surprise. "Take a ride with me later," he entreats.

"Really?" You ask, your beautiful eyes full of wonder.

Johnny smiles.

"Take Daisy home. I'll meet you there so no one sees us leaving together."

You nod to show you understand his need for discretion. He tips his hat and walks across the street to find Curly Bill.

You rush to the restaurant, your heart pounding with anticipation and delight. You serve the hotel guests and other patrons with a renewed spring in your step. Finally, you will gain the opportunity to spend time with Johnny Ringo.

Fatty looks over at you and wonders what caused your sudden shift in demeanor. You always exchange pleasantries and smile often, but today that smile seems like a door to a secret world. In a town like Tombstone, people didn't smile unless they greeted another resident and even then, people usually nodded, tipped their hats or said, "how do you do?" But your smile was contagious today and Fatty couldn't help but wonder.

Big Nellie clears plates, sopping up gravy with leftover biscuits, in such an indignant manner, you feel tempted to learn of her upbringing. She hardly spoke and often took breaks. She and Fatty talked in the kitchen, sometimes laughing, but you could never make out the conversation. Tombstone was a lonely place and people looked for relief from it any way they could.

Nothing happening in town can bring you down today. You move quickly and happily through the restaurant, taking orders, clearing tables and even helping out in the kitchen washing dishes.

You take a break while waiting for Emmett to open again for lunch. The day moves slower than you'd like; your mind goes to Johnny Ringo whose company you will get to enjoy later. The clock seems still and barely moving.

When the oil cloth table cloths are wiped down and Fatty is preparing meals for lunch, your heart swells with so much anticipation, you can hardly contain your smile.

Several people enter the restaurant when Emmett reopens for lunch. You quickly move to the door, seating the guests and offering menus.

The menu features beef stew with biscuits, fried chicken served with mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and green beans, rice and beans were usually on the menu everyday and there's also fresh fish served with vegetables. Quite often, oysters are featured on the menu also.

While you kept yourself busy serving lunch, Johnny went to a bath house. He paid for his hot water, towel and soap while thinking of you and how he loves having a reason to indulge in a hot bath. Ringo smiles while he scrubs his feet and toes, wanting to present himself in a way he feels you deserve. Johnny soaps up his arms and chest, throwing the small bar of soap in the air and catching it like he's a young boy again. The young boy girls at church would gawk at; Johnny Ringo, the mysterious boy who seemed under a spell of darkness that wouldn't relent. A man who struggled with his faith, guilt and shame that seemed to wrestle constantly with neither side winning; just a constant struggle. He lets out a sigh before rising out of the wooden tub, taking a hold of a towel. After he washes up, he puts on clean clothes and heads to the barber for a shave.

You continue glancing at the clock that sits in the corner. Time still moves slow, but steady. When your shift ends, you, like Johnny, take a bath in town, put on a new dress; a pink and black simple skirt with a matching blouse. You put some color on your lips, your heart racing and head to the livery. Amos tips his hat.

"Well, howdy, ma'am! You sure look nice today."

"Afternoon, Amos." You smile, handing him fifty cents for a tip.

Amos retrieves Daisy for you.

"Real fine horse," Amos says, leading Daisy over to you.

"She really is!" You answer, bringing Daisy to your small carriage.

"See you tomorrow, Amos," you tell him before heading to your cottage to wait for Johnny Ringo.

You race towards your cottage, the wind blowing through your hair. Daisy whinnies and gallops gracefully. The moment you reach your home, you get busy ensuring Daisy is unhitched and has grain to eat. You wipe her down with a brush, kiss her on the nose and rush into your house to get yourself ready. You choose a royal blue blouse with a light brown skirt. After applying some color to your lips and brushing your lovely locks, you gaze out the window to check if you see Johnny riding over.

You hear the distant sound of a horse galloping and when you look out your window, you see Johnny Ringo riding at full gallup towards your cottage.

You hold your heart while you lean against the wall, letting a deep breath out. You do your best to remain calm, despite your excitement. You take a few deep breaths while listening to the horse approaching. The footsteps of the heavy hooves begin to slow as Johnny approaches you.

You check yourself in the mirror near the water basin and smile to yourself.

Your heart skips a beat when his knuckles knock on your door.

You open the door to find Johnny Ringo, the deadliest pistoleer since William Bonney and Charlie Quantrill."

Johnny takes his hat off the moment he sees you. He looks down and then back at you. An overwhelming sensation of passion and shame start to wash over him. Your soft hair, the way the sun hits your eyes and creates a heavenly glow...

Johnny feels his neck grow hot and flushed at the sight of you. He slowly exhales, allowing himself to gain control over himself.

"Johnny!" You exclaim.

Ringo looks to the ground,still holding his hat. Your excitement upon seeing him fills him with a sense of warmth and comfort with a hint of excitement.

"Well, howdy, YN," Johnny finally says.

Your heart pumps so lively inside you that you fear Johnny may hear it. You open the door further to allow Johnny into your house.

"Thank you," he says. He looks out the window, sighs and then looks back at you. He feels foolish for not bringing something for you, even if just a bouquet of flowers. He came empty handed and he suddenly feels flushed and embarrassed.

"What's wrong, Johnny?" You ask with sincere concern.

Johnny Ringo shakes his head and smiles. One of the elements about you that he loves involves your sweetness, gratitude and how easy you are to please.

Johnny looks at the floor. In his rush to see you, he forgot to bring something for you to show his growing affection.

"It's just that uh...well," he rocks back and forth on his feet.

You move close and hug him tight. His bodily functions betray him and he experiences a throbbing he can't control and hopes to God you don't notice his sudden loss of self control. He takes a deep breath and sighs, absorbing the wonderful sensation holding you brings him.

Your body aligns with his and for a moment, no violence or war or oppression can separate your dedication to each other.

"I should have brought you something... Flowers...I guess I couldn't wait to get here," Johnny answers.

"Then it would have taken you longer to get here!" You answer with enthusiasm.

Johnny pauses and then smiles a warm and genuine smile. Your words wash over him like a sweet rain storm.

"You sure got a way with words, YN," he tells you. "Makes a fella feel appreciated.

You chuckle softly, the realization of Johnny Ringo in your home causes your heart to burst.

"Well, how about a ride?" He suggests.

"Perfect!" You answer. " Then you can take your time picking me some lovely wildflowers!" You grin mischievously.

Johnny, without thinking, cups your face. He moves to kiss you, hoping he's not being too forward. He pauses and simply looks into your eyes.

"Only the prettiest flowers for the prettiest lady!" He answers, guiding you by your hand.

Johnny mounts his horse and then pulls you up so you sit comfortably behind him. You lay your head against his back and you seem to fit perfectly. He loves the softness of your form against him.

The light trot turns to a gallop and the feel of the wind against your face, blowing your unbound hair wildly around your head.

The warm breeze and aroma of wildflowers that are framed by Palo Verde trees paints a landscape so oddly different from the bustling town.

Johnny Ringo turns to check on you. "You're awful quiet back there, YN. You doing alright?"

You squeeze Johnny tight, kissing his ear which causes him to flinch and then chuckle softly.

"I take that as a yes," he smiles, finding your vulnerability irresistible.

"Oh yeah, cowboy!" You answer. "Let's keep going!"

"Yes, ma'am," Johnny replies, spurring his horse who breaks into a run. The air feels sweet and the wind blows past the both of you and dkr that moment, you and Johnny feel more than just a connection; an interloping journey of love seeking and a release of all the pain that stirs in the hearts of those brave enough to pull through the war. Ringo's heart swells with pride and fascination at the wonder he's sharing with you. No admonishes or harsh words flow from you. Only the admiration and wild attraction the two of you share.

Johnny slows the horse to a slow gallup and then the horse fades into slow gait until Johnny pulls the reigns in.

"Well, my lady, here we are."

You look around and see a small body of water; beads sparkle and dance on the surface while the leaves on the trees shake to the ground. The warm sun feels like a friendly hug rather than the impending heat that's usually felt in the hotter months.

Johnny gets down and instinctively helps you off. You stumble a bit, holding onto him for balance. He holds you close, giving you reassurance.

"You alright, there?" He asks.

You look up at him, his eyes wide with amazement and a touch of apprehension and shyness. Johnny never encountered these feelings when laying with the calico queens, but something about your smile awakens something in him he cannot reconcile. The stark contrast of his rough and dangerous life to holding a beautiful woman who's shown incredible perseverance and loyalty just to get close to him. He feels a mix of excitement and a sense that he doesn't deserve you.

Your eyes stay fixed on his and he can feel his throbbing masculinity grow more intense. He wants to back away from you in shame that he couldn't control himself. But when your blouse falls off your shoulder and reveals a hint of skin, Johnny's demeanor grows weak and he almost stumbles. Before you can say anything, he cups your face and kisses you so gently, it even surprises him.

Your lips feel soft, the way he imagined they would. He can taste hints of strawberry and mint on your lucios lips.

When he pulls away, you see the vulnerability in his eyes; the vulnerability he tries so desperately to conceal behind his dark and brooding demeanor. But today, he feels that dark cloak fall from his strained mind. He takes your hands and kisses them passionately.

Johnny Ringo looks down at you and he feels your body trembling. He kisses your head. He then moves and gets a blanket from his saddle bag.

Johnny puts the blanket down and then pulls you close. He lays down near you, your body still shaking from receiving a kiss from Tombstone's deadliest man.

While you lay on your back, he slowly, but carefully begins to undue the buttons on your blouse. To your own surprise, you allow him to continue, knowing how primal a man like Ringo can be. While he caresses your breast, he kisses you again, sending spasms through your body. You gasp in delight and he smiles. The weakness enveloping your body prohibits you from moving. Johnny whispers in your ear, "you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He continues caressing your breast, moving his hands in a surprisingly delicate motion.

"Johnny," you whisper. You try to sit up so you can kiss him, but a spell of pure love embraces you will not allow you to surrender to your desire.

"Shh," he whispers, kissing your trembling lips. He wonders if fear stirs within your heart; fear that his dangerous and unpredictable personality will surface and perhaps take you against your will. That he may dominate you in the heat of ecstasy and hold you down while he explores your body.

He takes your hand and kisses it reassuringly.

"I'll stop..." He whispers, feeling his body throbbing.

Johnny Ringo composes himself, taking a deep breath. "I just want to feel close to you," you tell him, your heart suddenly swelling at your own weakness and fear. Johnny could easily become lost in a woman like you; lose his grip on himself and without focusing on the consequences of his haste to have you.

Johnny sits up and sighs. He slowly and sweetly buttons your blouse, his hands shaking from the intense interaction he just shared with you.

You regain your composure and touch his back. He takes your hand and holds it, turning his face away from you in shame and guilt.

"Johnny," you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Ringo takes his jacket and wraps it around you in a loving way, like he's shielding you from the world. You touch his face and notice the tears in his eyes. His inner conflict speaks so loudly, you shiver.

"You deserve better than this," Johnny says, his voice almost breaking with emotion. "Better than a roll on an old blanket with some dumb cowboy who could never be good enough for you!"

You finally sit all the way up and can feel your heart sink in defeat. But you also understand the complexities of a man like Ringo. He can't bring himself to treat you in any other way, but in the way he feels you deserve.

Johnny composes himself and puts his arm around you while you lay your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, YN. Sorry for bringing you out here like you're some damn ramera!"

"Johnny, I was...Am overwhelmed. That's all." You reassure him.

"All the more reason to take better care of you. I won't ever let anyone think bad of you. They can think what they want about me! They already do." He tightens his grip on you, but in a soft way. " But you...To have yourself caught up in a...a.."

"Wonderful man?"

His eyes dart towards yours. "You say that because you don't know. You don't know me. Don't know who I rode with!"

"Johnny," you begin. "Please let me care for you."

"Why? So you can be disappointed like everyone else in my life?" He looks down and shakes his head. "I'm so damn stupid, I almost..."He looks at you, his bottom lip trembling, almost unnoticeably, but you understand he's a conflicted man.

"And to think I actually contemplated just touching you," he says softly.

"Johnny..." You whisper again.

Johnny stands and lifts you by your hand so you can stand. He folds up the blanket and puts it away. Then he lifts you up and carries you to his horse, feeling he needs to make it up to you...Show you he's more than some worthless gunfighter and outlaw. But a man you could be proud of.

He rides back to your place in silence. When you arrive at your cottage, he walks you to the front door. You almost ask if he wants to come in, but you can see the apprehension in his eyes.

Ringo takes his hat off and holds it in his hands.

The only thing you can say falls from your lips and fades into the late afternoon air, "Johnny..."

Johnny Ringo touches your face, caressing your chin with his large and calloused hand.

"Thank you, YN," he finally says.

You stand before him, tears welling up in your large, expressive eyes. Johnny feels a deeper sense of inner conflict over seeing what he's done to you.

"Johnny!" You finally manage to say. "Please can I see you again? Please?!" You try not to beg, but to reassure him you care about him. He's too much of a gentleman to dare answer right away.

He looks at the ground. He can't understand why you have such a hold on him.

Johnny takes a step forward. He moves your hair away from your face. "Well, I sure would like that," he says.

"Johnny! What's got you so upset?"

"I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you," he responds while he strokes your face with his large hand.

You nod to show you understand.

You watch the Shakespearen quoting gunfighter mount his horse. He tips his hat to you and rides off. You lower your head and cannot stop the tears flooding from them. You understand why Johnny didn't want to make love to you on a blanket outside, but why did he grow so cold towards you? How he wrapped his jacket around you...His silence on the ride home, his tears.

You open your door and slam it shut, causing the vase on the small table to fall over. You fall onto your bed, releasing the passion that resides in you. Tears stream down your face and you slowly fall asleep.

Ringo heads to town and goes to the Dead End where Annie works. He doesn't intend to pay for any services, but needs to vent to someone familiar, someone from home.

"Howdy, there, Johnny!" Annie exclaims, seeing the gunfighter move through the batwings. The jingle of his spurs echo on the wood floor. He slowly walks to the bar, looking like a wolf without a pack.

"You look like you were hit by a train, Johnny," Annie says, pouring whiskey for him.

Johnny down the shot and takes another.

"I know something of what you're feeling -" Annie begins.

"No. You don't." He answers without emotion in his voice. He takes his hat off and puts it next to the full bottle of whiskey.

"Well, no matter, Cowboy! You're here so let Annie take care of you." She leans in closer. "Twice...One on the house, remember?" She asks, recalling moments they shared together.

Ringo smiles. A roll with a whore feels more natural to him than to make love to the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. He shakes his head at that realization. He knows he could never become aroused with Annie and maybe not any other woman. He desires you above all else and his passion for women seems to be dying through the birth of the relationship he has found with you.

"What's with you, Johnny?" Annie inquires, wiping the bar with a towel. She lifts his chin to look at him. He's tempted to slap her hand away, but the gentleman side of him wins over and he simply turns away.

"You wouldn't understand," Johnny drawls, taking another shot.

"In my business, I hear everything!" She brags.

"Yeah, business. That's all women like you understand." Johnny stares into his empty shot glass.

"That's why I'm here! Same as you, cowboy. Business. There's no other reason to be here." Annie tilts her head and studies Ringo. She tosses the towel aside and shakes her hands out.

"What?" She mocks his indifference to her. "You're looking for love? Is that it? You know how many times I heard men talking about how they'd give up everything for a loving wife! A beautiful woman who wants to save you from yourself and spend her life dedicated to you, right?" She rolls her eyes.

Ringo holds back from banging his fists on the bar. He knows her words ring true; it's a lonely life he led. A life that could never give you what he feels you deserve. He curses under his breath. He tosses money at Annie. She takes it and throws it back to him.

"Save it for a poke, Johnny! When you get lonely enough, you'll be back!"

Ringo takes the cash, the bottle and leaves the bar. Annie takes a shot glass and throws it on the floor, wiping sweat off of her head.

"Damn cowboys!" Annie grumbles under her breath. "They're the worst when it comes to love dreams!" She grabs a broom and begins sweeping up the glass. "That man!" Annie shakes her head.

A few patrons head to the bar, slapping cash on the bar.

Annie nods her head and puts her hands on her hips. "I like men who know what they want!" She declares and pours herself a shot.

You awaken with a start. You run your hands through your hair and toss the covers aside. While stumbling towards the basin near the sink. After splashing cool water on your face, you wipe it clean and toss the towel aside. You let out a sigh and put your boots on so you can check on Daisy. When Johnny dropped you off, you forgot about everything. Your heart still sinks with the heaviness of Ringo's latest joust with his guilt and shame; neither one falls to defeat.

Daisy whinnies when seeing you, clearly excited by your presence.

"Hey, girl," you whisper, tears falling from your eyes. "This is tougher than I ever thought!" With teary eyes, you take care of Daisy, ensuring she's clean and has fresh water and grains. You kiss her goodnight and return to sleep, exhausted from your day.

Johnny gets his horse from the livery without acknowledging Amos, who could sense tension from the older gunfighter. Amos knew not to probe Ringo for any information; when Ringo grows quiet, it's always best to leave him be. Johnny tips his hat to Amos who nods in return. Johnny rides back to camp, the image of your tear filled eyes, the only thing he can see.

Ringo rides into camp. He can hear Curly Bill guffawing and telling his stories, adding to them each time he tells them. Other Cowboys busy themselves by shooting empty whiskey bottles or other chores. Pony mixes flour and milk and prepares biscuits, along with bacon and beans. The familiar aroma of horse shit, intense body odor and bacon flood the camp while Johnny retreats into his safe place.

He slowly drinks the rotgut he purchased. He takes his journal and begins to write:

I can't get her face out of my mind. I wish to the Devil in Hell and to the God in Heaven that I never saw her! Johnny crumples the paper and tosses it. Then he recalls his time with Charlie Quantrill and the Youngers. While slaughtering Jayhawks in Liberty, one of Quantrill's men was shot in the face at close range and his teeth blew out the sides of his head. Another met his maker by shotgun so violently, his arm was blown off.

Ringo recalls the lack of emotions shown by Quantrill, who instead of shouting or cursing his enemies, he sat, sharpening his Bowie knife with a stone. He slowly and methodically worked on the instrument of death, not saying a word. Ringo himself recalls how he fell to his knees at the sight of the deaths and swore he would never take a human life...He almost laughs loudly at the irony of it all. The death He experienced and the torture he endured at the hands of those damn Jayhawks!He tosses his journal, feeling the weight of the world's troubles on him.

He dozes off for a few moments.

The following morning, you realize you get the day off and you rise out of bed with a renewed sense of determination. After enjoying tea and a biscuit, you wash up, put on a cream colored skirt with a royal blue blouse, brush your hair and add color to your lips. Pleased with how you look, you quickly head to the stable, where Daisy whinnies with delight.

"Today is the day, girl! I did not come here to just walk away!" You saddle Daisy instead of hitching her to the wagon. You mount up and ride like the wind. Daisy moves from a quick trot to a gallop until she's running at full speed. The wind blows through your unbound hair and the air seems warm and sweet.

You keep riding until you can see...

The Cowboys camp.

Your determined spirit pushes you to ride close enough to the camp that the Cowboys can see you. Some of the horses at the picket line rear up. Curly Bill springs to his feet. "What in the hell is this?!" He shouts. Curly Bill runs over to you.

"What do you think you're doing? Ain't no women belong here!"

You dismount and refuse to back down.

"Hold on a minute now!" Curly Bill bellows. "You can't just ride in here! This ain't no place for you, woman!"

Curly Bill Brocius stands, looking larger than life, his loud voice booming. "You can't just ride in here like that!" Curly says firmly.

"I need to see him, Curly Bill! I rode all the way out here!"

Curly Bill can see the determination in your eyes. He takes his hat off and does the best he can to maintain his composure as he certainly isn't going to admonish or curse her.

"Well, I ain't one to interfere like that. Hold on there. I'll get Johnny for ya. Stay here." Curly orders. He walks to Johnny Ringo's tent.

"Juanito," Curly groans. "Come out, boy! Reckon you got a visitor!"

Ringo rubs his eyes and looks at Curly Bill and believes he's dreaming. "What the hell, Curly!" Johnny grunts.

"Johnny. She's here."

Johnny sits up with a start. "She... When... What? I ain't in the mood, Bill!"

"Johnny! She's here! Came riding through here like it's her damn place! You know no woman belongs here, but she ain't leaving lessen she talks to you first!"

Johnny Ringo peeks out his tent and gets a clear view of you. His heart skips a beat and he runs his hands through his hair. He sits for a moment in an attempt to process the scene before him. Curly Bill chuckles and closes the tent flap. "I wouldn't keep a beauty like that waitin'!" He guffaws loudly, not thinking or caring if you hear it.

"He'll be right with you," Curly Bill tells you, trying to keep himself composed while he notices your unique appearance.

"Thank you," you answer, standing next to Daisy.

A few other cowboys take their hats off to get a better view, while others share glances and shrugs. Curly Bill sits back down and lights up a cigar and uncorks a bottle of fire water. He can't help but feel a bit envious; he can't imagine a beautiful woman wanting him so much, she's willing to risk her own safety and reputation just to be close to him.

"Women..." Curly Bill whispers to himself. "They bring a man to misery. And when they're beautiful like that..." Curly Bill shakes his head.

Johnny gets himself together and emerges from his tent, blocking the sun with his hand as he's holding his hat. He stumbles for a moment and staggers to his feet. He looks at you with shame and you return the look with one of love and encouragement.

"Johnny Ringo!" You shout much to the surprise and shock of the Cowboys watching. Some of them hoot and holler while others exchange glances and smile or nod.

Johnny exits his tent and sees you standing there, your hair flowing in the breeze. He walks closer to you, still processing the reality before him. He whispers your name and his eyes grow wide with wonder and awe.

"Why... How'd you... What are you..." He stammers over his words.

You stand, your arms crossed, your eyes full of determination and a resistance to any intimidation. "I'm not leaving until you tell me why you just left! No explanation! Nothing!"

Johnny moves closer to you. "Please keep your voice down," he says, looking over at Curly Bill and the other Cowboys.

You sigh. "Alright. But I'm not leaving until you talk to me! Why did you leave?"

Johnny's mouth falls open; women don't fight like this and they especially wouldn't risk their safety and reputation just for him. The emotions that strain his heart seem so unfamiliar and raw.

"I don't know," he whispers. "I've always been this way. You don't know me. I already told you not to waste your time with me!"

He turns to walk away, but you move in front of him. "You're NOT going to walk away from me again!" You say, your voice is rising again.

Johnny stands in shock at your boldness. He opens his mouth to speak, but can't find the words. The darkness inside of him begins to stir, but seems to blow slowly away, revealing a light he rarely experiences. He almost smiles, but maintains his cool. He brushes a hair away from your face. He says your name and then in an awkward manner, he removes his hat and stands like a child would stand, waiting for an admonishment.

"Johnny," you say softly. "Stop! Stop this!"

"I can't," he answers. "I am what I am and you just don't understand -,"

"Don't tell me I don't understand!" You say, your voice rises to the point, some of the Cowboys look over.

"YN," Johnny starts. "Find yourself a better man. I'll never be good enough for you!" Johnny turns to leave and you move so quickly, he can't avoid you. The part of Ringo that no one cares enough about to search for begins to awaken and that terrifies him more than any gunfight ever could.

"Johnny Ringo!" You say loudly. "I don't care who's watching! And I'm still not leaving!"

Curly Bill stands up and gazes at Johnny. Ringo signals Curly Bill need not worry.

"YN...I... Don't know what to say." Johnny puts his head down in shame.

You take his face in your delicate hands. He pulls away, feeling ashamed that you're seeing him in such a vulnerable way. Your hands feel soft and cool, a reminder of what the world could someday offer him.

"I..." He begins.

Your fiery eyes grow wide with concern and something unfamiliar; a sweet softness that demonstrates your unwavering commitment to him. He toys with the idea that love flutters in your heart. Love for him... Something he gave up on years ago when the war took everything. And the war brought a flood of sorrows through loss, sickness and death. Ringo saw the cruelty the human spirit can impose. Watching his family lose everything, his mother's disappointment in him, his father's death...How his family barely tolerated him now because of how he chose to cope with his loss. The way his sisters scowled at him when he returned to see them. He can still recall their harsh admonishments:

"Just look at yourself! You could have been anything and you chose to be a thief and a killer!"

"How Papa would feel if he saw you now! He was a good man, a lawyer! You're nothing and you have nothing! Even the clothes you're wearing were probably stolen!"

And after that, he never saw his family again.

Now you stand before him like a beacon of hope and light, nothing but concern in your eyes. And not the insincere concern of a ramera; real, genuine care for him. A warm feeling rushes through his chest.

"If you knew about me, you'd know to stay away from me," he tells you.

"Johnny!" You beg, practically falling on your knees. You suck back your tears and look him in his eyes. Your strength begins to betray you and your eyes glisten with tears.

"Johnny," your voice a whisper. "Why won't you talk to me?"

Johnny sees your pain and curses himself for causing it. He turns away so he doesn't have to see that sadness in your expression.

You take a deep breath, pulling yourself together. The idea of losing control of yourself or bursting into tears in front of a bunch of surly cowboys causes you to regain your strength.

You see Curly Bill and a few others glance over and then return to their tasks.

"You know where I live! Come this afternoon, please, Johnny!"

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

have been gone all weekend.

Only thing I'm saying is Kurt Russell is hot and I was in a trance for about 95% of Tombstone

[anxiousheart7]

Astarion and Age

I’d like to address the topic of age with Astarion since it’s been hotly discussed and debated for a while now. I’d like to firstly give credit to the TikTok user who has set me on this path. Spoilers below…

Astarion was turned at the age of 39 according to his tombstone (the scene is available all over YouTube and TikTok if you haven’t see it). And it’s been widely assumed that because elves are thought to mature at the age of 100, that makes him a child.

To clear things up - elves physically and mentally age at the same rate as humans so his brain and body are, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as a 39 year old human man.

The maturing referenced here is in relation to elven society and their process of reincarnation. Elves go through a process called The Call of Arvandor, which essentially is the ritual of communing with the elven souls residing in Arvandor (the elven afterlife). There are finite elven souls in the world, and when someone is born, they begin the call at a young age to access the memories of their previous lives. There are several stages to this, starting from childhood until the age of 100 when they have completed this. It’s at that point that they choose their adult name.

When he was turned, it’s assumed that he couldn’t continue that because he’s no longer living. This TikTok-er also goes on to say that it’s likely that he was turned during the second cycle of this process, which is often the most difficult due to the memories he’d be accessing, his family or community would be there to support him - something he wouldn’t get when assimilated into Cazador’s ‘family’.

Elves also go into this meditative process for 4 hours per night, which means their long rest is shorter than others.

My Take

So from what I’ve learned so far and from the lore we got from the game, the question lies - does Astarion access those memories in camp when he rests? He seems to take the meditative stance when resting. With the tadpole suppressing pretty much every other vampire affliction he would normally have (sunlight, being invited in, water). But the bigger question is in relation to Astarion’s soul. Is his soul intact and what state is it in?

It’s a difficult one because the undead are supposed to be soulless. But Astarion’s character and the way he behaves pre and post ascension seems to suggest differently. As does the conversation you have with Cazador after he dies. So I wonder if he’s able to access trance again. Or is his meditation stance simply practiced and all he knows?

What I think this means for Astarion’s perceived maturity

It’s rather tragic really - he’s been cut off from that natural development he should have had and that has had an impact on him. He’s generally been in a sort of stasis for the past two centuries. My headcanon is that spawn can still access their souls, even if they may be fractured or incomplete now and is sacrificed when they become full vamp. That’s why he retains his personality and character as a spawn.

But for all intents and purpose he’s an adult person, but an incomplete elf. Which is a shame and a true tragedy because he died during such an important stage.

[seneon]

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 . . . 𝐘/𝐍 𝐋/𝐍

there was an empty spot right towards the end of the cemetery. nine graves in total that the individual has walked through and read their little stories on a piece of brochure that she received from a random man by the streets.

the brochure ends at the story of the murdering man. and there were only nine tombstones in the whole place. not ten, like it was classified publicly. the tenth spot for the grave is empty. there is nothing but pure soil, grass, and dried leaves resting on the earth.

what could be the cause of it? where is the tenth grave? why does the brochure ends specially at the ninth dead body? were there even answers to such questions?

she thought and looked around, then catching a shadow at the corner of her eyes. she turned to where the shadow is and stared at it. tall figure, messy hair, and in casual clothes. it is a man. he is faceless, you couldn't see his face— for the lamppost behind him outshone him.

"are you sure it's a good idea to be visiting the ten legendary graves in the middle of the night? and alone too." he said, as the girl only stated right at him. "there is only nine, not ten graves. you must be mistaken."

"you are mistaken," he spoke once again.

the moment he smiled, the girl could hear the grounds beneath her cracking. uneasiness and fear starts to build up in within her as concrete cracked and fell to the earth. as she looked around, horror slowly embraced her heart and consumed it.

the tombstones are cracking open, from the very first grave of a vampire down to the very last. dead bodies are rising. or are they alive? always alive...?

"how naïve.." an alluring voice said through the night as the girl was swayed by the melody that lies in the voice.

"would anyone be so brave as you to even step into this ground?" her trance was broken by a smooth and deep voice, empty eyes looking down at her.

"clearly not. this girl is a stupid, common idiot," footsteps walked through the cemetery, coming closer and closer to where the girl stood.

"give her a break, this is our first visitor," another monotonous voice sighed in the darkness, holding his staff close to him. "she would make a pretty decoration here though."

shit.

what is happening?

what is this?

where did all these voices came from...?

then it clicked. if tombs are breaking and grounds are cracking. that could only mean one thing. none of these tombs are actually graves. they're just displayed there, for the next person to find, for the first person to enter the grounds of death.

"do you understand the situation you're in right now, girl?" grimmjow said behind you, slowly walking up to stand beside you. he bends down to your ear and whispers;

"you're the tenth grave."

while your eyes widened in shock, the sound of penknife opening filled your ears. the grave of grimmjow jaegerjaquez—it seemed like it was a fake when you stood there inspecting it before. now you know why. he was never dead or never cremated or buried or even cease.

if so, the same goes to every other graves and the concrete and dolls and emptiness that represents them and their lives.

there wasn't even a single dead body in this graveyard to begin with. it was all a legend, after all. who cares if a frankenstein wanted love? who cares if a porcelain doll was made by someone delusional? who cares if a man is a devil's descendant?

only you.

and your story?

it started from the first step through the cemetery gates and through the graveyard. the legends are out, seeking for a revenge on a certain soul that lived on for centuries, reincarnating over and over again through different lives.

it must be nice, huh? to have your past lovers live on just for mere revenge or for the sake of seeking you again. you belong in the grave with all of them.

you are the last grave.

grave nine 🪦 spooktober graveyard series

© SENEON OCT 19th 2023 | 10th PIECE OF S. GRAVEYARD.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, over the past month or so I’ve been alluding to musical acts that were… but are not anymore. So once again, let’s jump aboard the nostalgia train and take the nearest stop to yet another cobweb infested and tuneful tombstone. I would be remiss in my efforts to bring you the finest of dead bands if I didn’t shoot a passing glance at School of Seven Bells. While I wouldn’t say I’m personally infatuated with their overall sound, or their discography for that matter, I’ll acknowledge them for an ability to create tunes that manage to sound completely different than anything else out there in the dream pop/shoegaze market. Among their contemporaries, SVIIB managed to squeeze out a noise that is more memorable, more abstract in lyrical composition, and more ethereal than any other similar act (in my opinion). The best part of this group were the vocals, which were recorded by the very lovely Deheza twins before the instrumentals. For those who don’t know, that’s a somewhat unorthodox and polar opposite approach to modern music creation. The twins’ voices were heavenly, especially together, and they did this thing where they occasionally sounded nearly robotic on top of the soundscapes that were built around their voices. The lyrics were often as abstract as dreams themselves, allowing the listener to simply project a meaning on to the tunes without excessive handholding by the music makers. They went on making some pretty cool and chill tunes for about a decade. One of the sisters dropped out of the band in 2010 for personal reasons, followed subsequently by the passing of their bandmate Benjamin Curtis to T-cell lymphoma in 2013. Although they haven’t put a record out since 2016, I still find myself randomly hearing their work through Pandora or some dark corner of the internet, and suddenly feel an uncontrollable urge to revisit these indie rock pioneers of yesteryear. The track above is a remix specifically done for a song of theirs that got on the show True Detective, and that is Trance Figure from 2008’s Alpinisms. If you like it, I implore you to click here to sample the more angelic side of their catalog. Enjoy!

While I wouldn’t put them on any kind of vaunted ‘Favorite Bands of All-Time’ list, their efforts keep me coming back, spoon and bowl in hand, buttocks clenched in anticipation of a heapin' helping of eerie and transcendent beauty. Image source: https://www.nme.com/news/music/school-of-seven-bells-5-1230847

[mr-animall]

"Hidden in plain sight " 4/6

In the morning Justin woke up to a thumbing noise. He sat up then walked to his window to see a tried Louis. " I've found the solution" Louis shouted. Justin ran to put his shoes on and down the stairs he went. He went out the door to meet Louis. " How!???" He finally replied. " I did research on the warehouse and who it's previous owner was however the owner before did not leave traces of their identity, I decided to question the landlord of now, on him was old files about the previous owner and allowed me to search through them, it took a couple of hours till I recognized similar hand writing on a paper of agreement to rent the place, I searched for a name but it came down as a fake identity, I was told by the landlord that the previous landlord had cameras on his property, he told me how awful it is to record people, so he took them down but he still had the cameras in a box if i was interested, I went through all the footages to find the date of the agreement, I found a clear image of the mystery person and set the image in a search software and he appeared for a dui, his name is Lennon Alexander Lee. A lonely scientist who was in love with a male coworker but the man he loved was married with wife, from the pain he committed. I came to find out about the story when I researched his office to find a secret compartment under his desk, in a floor board, a letter of confession, addressed to his lover with initials at the bottom. I assume we read the love letter to his dead lover. Jordan Campbell is the name, no time for the details on how I found him. He is buried at a near by cemetery, I have the address for that as well." He said looking at Justin who had a look of shock on his face. "You-You found all that in one night??? Did you even sleep??? " Justin said in a concerning tone. " I rest when the spirit is out" Louis said in a serious tone. *Sigh* ... Louis... we will talk about this afterwards" Justin said. Louis nodded without even listening to what justin said because he had already began route to the cemetery.

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Once there the two boys aimlessly looked for the name, until justin said "over here I found it" Louis jogged over and stood besides Justin. The two boys stared at the old tombstone as it look at them back somewhat menacesingly. Louis snapped out of the trance and handed Justin the letter. Justin looked back at Louis as he gave him a reassuring look. He gluped and began to read it out. As he did he began glowing only when he finished did the glowing pour out of him, then faded. " Omg it worked" Justin said sighing in relief. " Good.." Louis replied having no energy. " I kinda feel bad for this dude" he said staring back at the letter in his hands. "Some things aren't meant to be" Louis said. "That sucks" he said frowning. Just then an idea popped in Justin's head. He began digging with his hands a small hole. " Justin..? Louis said walking over to him. " I think ghost guy would have wanted him to have it " he said covering the hole and patting down the dirt. " That's.. thoughtful" Louis said looking at Justin who smiled back him " nah it's not a big deal." There was a silence between the two before Justin stood up pointing at Louis "RIGHT, you can't just stay up all night and do these kinds of things, this is the last time you're doing this- "justin's voice faded leaving only louis admiring him. He never noticed on how generous and caring Justin was. He wanted to be around him more. Louis laughed a bit leaving Justin confused. " I promise to attempt" Louis said, justin continued to rant all the way to his home. Somehow the strange situation brought them close. The next few months the two hanged out more and more. Playing videos games, watching movies, exorcising ghosts. Even if it was simple small talk they did it together. However something changed, in Louis, there was a lingering knot in his stomach. Unsure he made it his mission to figure out the strange emotion that lingred in him when he was with Justin.

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