#…considering making a west side story hunger games au

[idkaguyorsomething]

if i had a nickel for every movie i watched that starred rachel zegler and josh andres rivera featuring young adults fighting each other to the death in a story that condemns how society perpetuates and even encourages these violent tragedies that also had a fuckton of singing, i’d have two nickels.

[junie-bugg]

Prospects and Propriety - Chapter One

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

“We’re very similar, you and I.” He turns the leaf over in his palm one last time and then presses it into my hand. His fingertips are warm where the leaf is brittle.

We are, aren’t we? Me, a girl forced to marry by the rules and expectations of society and him, a boy whose freewill was stolen away before he could even walk. We’re both prisoners. Destined to fates we did not choose ourselves. Now I see what was so funny to him.

The two of us: we are absolutely tragic.

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Author’s Note: 

This is a story inspired by my love of Everlark and Jane Austen’s novels. I am in no way an expert on the Regency period and I include fashions/details that are not historically accurate.

The setting is an alternate England-like Panem.

The plot is my own (Gale is not Mr. Darcy people, don’t get it twisted) but does borrow aesthetics and ideas directly from Jane Austen and Suzanne Collins.

The cast of characters is a mix of canon Hunger Games and original characters I’ve created.

I plan on including links to music and ambiance videos I used while writing so feel free to explore those! I typically play nature sounds and music together on my laptop so sorry if you're reading on a phone!

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cc9ofwF-e4

(If you want to listen to this on Spotify it's called 'The Secret Life of Daydreams' from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack.)

Word Count: 1,727

Chapter One

I run my hands through the tall grasses at my waist. It’s the perfect morning. The crisp air doesn’t quite hold that harsh bite of winter that will soon sweep the countryside in blizzards and ice. Emerald leaves hint at the coming autumn with the slightest tint of yellow along their stems. The sun shines bright through branches and I watch the forest come alive with squirrels and chipmunks that scurry through the thick brush. The dirt path I followed to get here grazes the edge of the woods, but I’ve abandoned it to traipse through the wild-flower dotted hillsides instead. 

From this high up, I can see everything. The village of Whitley lies to the west. I can just make out the rooftops of the squat brick buildings off the main square. By this time the merchants will have opened their shops for business. The rest of the countryside is peppered with grand estates and bountiful farmland. Rivers gleam like veins of silver and dirt roads are wreathed in the dust kicked up by horse-drawn carriages. I wish I could stay and sit here all day. I would drink in the sun and drown in the low hum of insects, though Haymitch has warned me of the nasty gossip that follows a lady with a tan and a set of freckles. 

A lady. I almost snort. Apparently, that’s what I am. Or what I need to be if anyone is ever going to ask for my hand in marriage. The thought ruins the good mood my morning stroll had put me in. I throw myself down among the tall grasses and begin plucking mindlessly at their stems. 

Haymitch Abernathy, the legal guardian of me and my sister, has never been one to force us into doing things we dislike. I’m allowed to ride my horse alone, hunt with a bow and arrow, and take off into the woods whenever I please, like some woodland nymph from one of my father’s old stories. If it wasn’t for Prim and my greenhouse back at home I would probably live out here. Until it got cold of course. I’m allowed more freedom than any other young girl in the county, I’m sure. But not even Haymitch can protect me from matrimony. 

My sister is excited for me. I imagine she’s fantasized about her wedding since she knew what a wedding was. To her, marriage is a romantic fairytale. A strong, handsome man of large fortune will sweep her off her feet and give her an estate to run and small, cherub-faced children to care for. To me, marriage sounds like a death sentence. They say if I’m lucky, I’ll marry for love as well as for fortune, but I never want to love someone as much as my mother loved my father. Because when he died, in a way, so did she. The only person I know that I truly love is Prim. 

Primrose Everdeen, my little sister, was never the outdoorsy type like me. She’s fair, with golden blonde hair that hangs in ringlets past her slight shoulders, and a face as fresh and as pure as a spring dewdrop. She spends her days drawing, flower arranging, and studying languages with my old tutor Mrs. Winthrop. 

“She’ll be a highly accomplished woman by the time I’m done with her. Mark my words, this young girl is special,” Mrs. Winthrop had said to Haymitch mere days after first starting Prim’s lessons. She had been my tutor for years and had never said anything nearly as flattering about me. Sullen Katniss Everdeen must have been a lost cause in her eyes. 

I’m four years older than Prim who’s a mere twelve. We share the same parents, though we look almost nothing alike. Where she received the fair skin, blonde curls, and gentle blue eyes of our mother, I received the olive-toned, straight black, and storm grey palette of our father. 

I sit up suddenly, aware that I left home hours ago and it must be getting time for my lessons. I dread heading back to that stuffy room where I’m required to sit straight and learn to be “lady-like” under the scrutinizing gaze of Ms. Effie Trinket, my new tutor. Manners are of the utmost importance to her, seeing as she makes her living off of teaching them. She considers being late an unforgivable sin. 

With this in mind, I take my time gathering wild-flowers. There are so many at my feet, their delicate white and yellow petals peeking up amongst the grasses. I deftly craft two flower chains. One for me, which I place on the crown of my head, and one for Prim clutched in my hands. I notice some dirt under my nails and smile, wondering what Effie will say when I arrive late and grimy. 

She purses her lips and crosses her arms as I enter the room. “Where were you?” She demands in that high pitched voice of hers. 

“Out,” I shrug. I hadn’t seen Prim on my way in so I’m still clutching her flower crown. I offer it to Effie instead. “Flowers?” She squints at my offering, probably checking for bugs, before gingerly taking it and placing it down on a side table. 

“Katniss, I need you to take today’s lesson seriously.” Her clipped tone sets my teeth on edge.

“I always do-” I start, but Effie cuts me off. 

“Don’t lie to me, Katniss. I know you don’t care for etiquette. I know that to you a spoon is just a spoon, even when that spoon is a soup spoon and should only be used for soup!” 

Again with the soup spoon thing, it was one time. But she’s right. I find learning manners and etiquette a waste of time. I’ve only been out in society for a short while. I barely attend balls seeing as I’m sixteen and prefer to stay at home anyway. I look up and realize that Effie is still talking at me.

“Are you even listening? Mrs. Winthrop was right, you are hopeless.” She sighs and wipes non-existent dust off of her shimmery lilac skirts. “It is imperative that you start paying attention and make some kind of progress in these lessons. Mr. Gale Hawthorne has recently taken possession of Templeton and is traveling here, as we speak, to take up residence indefinitely. Do you know what this could mean for you?” Suddenly, her annoyance melts away and is replaced by a teary, almost hopeful expression. The way this woman’s emotions swing back and forth between happy and exasperated hurts my head. She comes to clasp my face between her palms. “Mr. Hawthorne earns ten thousand a year, Katniss. Ten thousand!” 

I have in fact heard of the Hawthornes. Maybe those lessons have had more of an impact on me than I thought. I was forced to spend months poring over books filled with the names and family trees of wealthy, well-known families that I had either already been acquainted with or might be acquainted with in the future. A healthy knowledge of people, especially rich people, will get you far in life. At least that’s what Effie says. 

Gale Hawthorne is the eldest son of the wealthy businessman Ezra Hawthorne. I forget exactly how Mr. Hawthorne first made his fortune but the word mine sticks around in my head. What his mine produced, I’m not sure. Precious gems? Gold? Coal? All I know is the Hawthornes are incredibly wealthy, and Gale being the eldest son inherited when his father died. He is in possession of everything from the family fortune to a legion of servants to the many extravagant houses in Town. Now it seems he’s grown tired with the city and has decided to try his hand at country living. Good, I think. A wealthy man who’s used to the high society of the Capitol won’t last long out here. He’ll be out of my hair before the month’s up. Effie must not realize this since she’s still staring happily into my face. 

“And?” I ask.

“Well, he’ll fall in love with you and ask for your hand in marriage!” She beams as if this is obvious. “If you play your cards right of course. For instance, he won’t find you very agreeable if all you do is scowl at him like you do me-” I jerk out of her grasp. 

Of course. Marriage. It’s one of the only things Effie has talked about the entire time I’ve been her pupil. 

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy warned me that'd you'd be. . .avoidant. But don’t you see? That’s the reason I’m here. To teach you how to win a husband! It’s an art you know.” She sighs, probably seeing the panicked look on my face, and slips back into a tone of tired annoyance. “You’ll have to marry someone, Katniss. Might as well marry knowing you’ll spend the rest of your life in the lap of luxury.”

She’s right, of course. There’s no way for women to make their own living. I can’t go to university to study business or law, I can’t run my own shop, I can’t inherit Haymitch’s estate or fortune. When he dies the money goes to some estranged cousin on his father’s side. I am a woman, therefore, I am destined to either marry or die poor and unprotected. And Prim…

If I don’t marry, then Prim can’t marry. One of the rules of proper Panem society is that a younger sibling cannot marry unless the eldest has, meaning I must be happily settled before my younger sister can even entertain the idea of love. If I don’t get married and Haymitch goes and does something stupid like die, there will be nothing I can do. For either of us. We’d be turned out of the house and left to beg for scraps. And I will not let that happen to Prim. Not again. 

I force myself to swallow past the lump in my throat and spend the rest of the afternoon paying careful attention to Effie. She’s trying to teach me to communicate with men via body language, long gazes, and the fluttering of lashes. 

This is the only way to save Prim, and with each horrible flutter I produce and each disappointed sigh from Effie, I feel my chances slipping away.

[darlingsdontdie]

New Yandere, Whump, and Dark Shipping Blog: Requests FAQ

Hey! So before I start writing and creating, I thought I'd get some common questions answered and out of the way! If you are concerned about your request or are unsure of its content, please first check this post before directly messaging me.

Request Content

Q: What kinds of requests do you fill?

A: I will fill almost any type of request! But here are some specific options with set structures and examples.

Headcanon Requests (bulleted, length depending on ask, ex: "Can I get headcanons for Requested Character with a short girlfriend?")

Scenario Requests (bulleted, LDOA, ex: "Can I get a scenario for if Requested Ship were getting married?")

Drabble Requests (prose, LDOA, ex: "Can I request a drabble about RC being worried when their darling is sick?")

Playlist Requests (list of songs, 1-5 song limit, ex: "Do you have 4 songs for a jealous RC?")

Graphic Requests (edit style, 1-4 images, ex: "Could you make a graphic for yandere RC with this item or quote?")

Aesthetic Requests (moodboard style, image with 6-9 sections, ex: "Can I get an aesthetic for dark!RS?")

Prompt Requests (list of brainstormed dialogue and short sentences, LDOA, ex: "Do you have dialogue prompts for RC kidnapping their darling?")

Plot Bunny Requests (short prose paragraphs or bulleted, LDOA, ex: "I want to write about yandere RC surprising their darling but don't know how or why. Are there are any plot bunnies you can give me?").

New! RP Idea Requests (selection of 1-4 short rp-style bios/plots/starters, LDOA, ex: "Do you have any yandere rp ideas for Requested Fandom ocs?")

New! Fancast Requests (moodboard or edit style, 2-9 images per RC/RS, ex: "Who would you cast as yandere RC(s)?")

New! Faceclaim Recommendation Requests (bulleted list of names with short explanations or reasons, LDOA, ex: "My yandere OC is tall, has dark hair, and soft features. He acts friendly but is the violent type. Can I have a few fcs?")

Requests that don't specify will be answered with a bulleted list or possibly a short paragraph. There may be times I'm willing to fill some requests but not others due to time constraints, but that doesn't mean I won't ever fill them!

Fandom requests involving AUs and crossovers are welcome (ex: "Headcanons of how yandere Naruto in a wild west AU?" or "Headcanons about what would happen if yandere Ten and yandere Crowley fell for the same person?"), as are original requests based on existing media (ex: "Can I get headcanons about a popular girl type who has a Breakfast Club experience and ends up going yandere for the criminal?" or "Can you write a drabble about a yandere whose story is like this music video?").

Q: What characters do you write for?

A: I'll write for any character that I am familiar with, with a few exceptions for characters I'm aware of but uncomfortable with. To get started, here's a list of fandoms that I have a solid handle on!

Anime (Naruto, Ouran High School Host Club, Death Note, Hetalia, etc.)

Western Animation (Archer, Castlevania, She-Ra: Princesses of Power, etc.)

DC and Marvel Comics

Star Wars (no New Trilogy - Originals, Prequels, Clone Wars, & Legends only)

Other Major Film Franchises (Pirates of the Caribbean, the MCU, James Bond, etc.)

Harry Potter and related properties

Percy Jackson and related properties

Hunger Games and related properties

Twilight and related properties

A Song of Ice and Fire (willing to try TV canon but much more familiar with Book canon)

Crime Dramas (Barry, Good Girls, Hannibal, Mr. Robot, Revenge, etc.)

Historical Drama (Vikings, The Tudors, Les Miserables, The Borgias, Downton Abbey, Peaky Blinders, Taboo, etc.)

Science Fiction and Fantasy TV/Lit (Star Trek TOS/AOS; Doctor Who, New Who only; Merlin; Good Omens; Lucifer; Galavant, etc.)

Horror-Thriller TV/Lit (American Horror Story, The Haunting of Hill House, Hemlock Grove, Alias Grace, etc.)

Sitcoms (familiar with Friends, all the Michael Schur products, Community, That 70s Show, Jane the Virgin, Schitt's Creek, Superstore, IASIP, and others)

Teen Dramas (Teen Wolf, Pretty Little Liars, Freaks and Geeks, Glee, etc., but no Riverdale)

Chinese and Korean Dramas (A Korean Odyssey/Hwayugi, Meteor Gardens, A Love So Beautiful, What's Wrong With Secretary Kim, Romance Is a Bonus Book, My First First Love, Black, etc.)

Video Games (Assasain's Creed, Portal 2, Fire Emblem, AFK Arena, Professor Layton, etc.)

Something that's not here can still be requested - I'm familiar with a lot of media and do my best to keep up.

As I implied above, I am also happy to write for original characters. Whether that means you telling me about your own OCs, or me creating my own characters for you down the line, either is great.

I will NOT be writing RPF or RPS. I do not approve of real person shipping and real person fiction makes me uncomfortable - if that's what you're looking for, there are a huge number of other blogs that will cater to your needs directly. Which leads me into...

Prohibited Requests, and Non-Yandere Content

Q: Will you fill every request you get?

A: I'll fill requests that interest me and that I feel comfortable posting, and that will probably be most of them! I am really excited to get started. But I still reserve the right to refuse a prompt - I'm writing for free, so no one is entitled to have their ask filled. If I choose to deny your prompt, I will answer privately and, if the issue is with content, update the blog so it's made clear that the type of prompt is not taken.

Q: What is and isn't allowed to be requested?

A: To be honest, most stuff is allowed and some stuff isn't. There's a lot of ground to cover here, so I've divided it based on the nature of the concern.

Q: Do you accept NSFW/SFW requests?

A: I'll do NS and SFW work, but I've got more experience with SFW content. This doesn't mean I do it exclusively, just that I won't think to go NS unless you mention it. Specify for NS and it'll be included happily!

Q: Do you accept violent requests?

Violence against non-SO characters and dub-con is okay always, as is situational or over-the-top violence, even murder, involving SOs (ex: "the yandere and their darling are soldiers on opposite sides of the war" or "the yandere saws off their darling's legs so they have to carry them everywhere").

However, there is some tricky area with violent fantasies. If I think the content strays too close to serious physical domestic abuse, then I'll likely deny the request. This is partially why I prefer requests that get violent to focus on non-SO targets, so if it doesn't matter to you, that's almost guaranteed to get a response.

Non-con I can mention and discuss in headcanon posts and possibly prompt lists, but I will not be writing drabbles or scenarios for non-con prompts.

Q: Do you accept kink requests?

A: It will depend on the type and whether I feel morally and psychologically comfortable with it. For example, hypnosis, size kink, gender stuffing, BDSM, roleplay, etc., are all currently accepted because they don't seem to affect me in a negative way. I am willing to do ships for cousins and step family, as well. However, I will not under any circumstances deal with r*ceplay, p*dophilia, fetishizing of trans people or people of color, or inc*stplay, and I will not be doing ship work for anyone more closely related than cousins, including but not limited to siblings, parents (blood or adopted), or aunts and uncles. None of this is negotiable. I am willing to consider AUs where two characters aren't family, or non romantic yandere behavior between family, but even then, the request's on thin ice. Anything super unhygienic or illness related is probably something I won't be interested in not as a rule or for moral reasons but just because it can exacerbate my anxiety and OCD. I also do not fill prompts related to minors at all, be it explicit/adult/sexual content or otherwise. Requests for characters who are minors will have them aged up unless otherwise specified - in which case you will promptly be blocked.

Q: Can I request a dark imagine that is not yandere related?

A: Of course! Just make sure to be specific about what you want from it.

Q: Can I request a ship or character imagine that isn't yandere or dark?

A: Yes, though I won't promise it'll be what you're looking for. I fall towards horror, thriller, and angst when I write, regardless of my intentions.

Q: Can I request something that's not ship or character imagine related?

A: Sure, I'd be honored, but again, I don't promise to fulfill every request. This blog is intended to be stress relief, self indulgence.

How to Make a Request

Q: How do I contact you for requests?

A: Asks, messages, replies on my original posts, and even more casual things like tagging me in yandere or writing related posts are all great ways to interact with me!

Q: When do you accept requests?

A: Requests will be opened or closed depending on how busy I am and whether I'm caught up on them.

Currently, requests are closed. However, I've decided that requests are reopened on my days off. The days should be listed in my bio.

Q: Do you accept anonymous requests?

A: Yes, I do! I also will not publish asks from users unless the user specifically clarifies that they are okay with it, just in case the user sent the ask from their blog on accident. User asks that aren't specified as safe to publish will be responded to privately when the request is filled.

Q: How will I know my request is filled?

A: As stated above, anonymous asks and user asks clarified as safe to publish will be published with a response. User asks without any clarification will be responded to privately. Anonymous asks asking for privacy for any reason will not be published. Messages will also get a reply. Users who send requests that are kept private will not be tagged unless you ask me to. Users with published asks will always be tagged in the final post, but it is totally okay to ask me to change or erase the tag! Other than this, checking for posts is up to the requester.

Other Kinds of Interaction

Q: Is there anyone who you don't want interacting with your blog?

A: Anyone complicit in nazism, racism, transphobia, homophobia, misogyny, xenophobia, pedophilia/MAPs, or any other politicized violence against a people is uneqivocally not welcome to engage with my work. I also have a zero tolerance policy for true crime fans who support or absolve serial killers. Please respect this - anyone who doesn't will be blocked. Anyone who pushes the issue will be reported.

Q: What about kink or otherkin blogs?

A: Honestly, I don't know much about either community. As of now, I'm fine with interaction. I'd ask that I not receive any kin related requests, because I am not familiar with the concept, community, and issues accompanying. Kinks can be requested but as stated above, are not guaranteed to be filled. Please don't bring discourse or discourse related requests here. I am not equipped to or interested in getting involved. If that changes, I have a main and other side blogs. This blog will never be a place for it.

Q: Are you okay if we interact with you or send you asks and messages that aren't requests?

A: Absolutely! I would love to talk with you. I am always interested in discussing any of the topics covered on this blog, or anything else for that matter! I pride myself on trying to be not just nice, but kind, and hopefully that comes through in every interaction. However, I'll expect the same courtesy from anyone who'd reach out to me, or use my posts to communicate to others for that matter. Anyone who doesn't will be, you guessed it, blocked. Anyone who pursues it further, yeah, will be reported.

Q: You have a lot of rules about requests and interaction, but you don't seem to post much and you aren't very active. Is this all just awkward and formal overkill, or is there a point?

A: I've explained all of this clearly, in as an accessible way as I can think of, because I want to eliminate the potential for drama, confusion, and other misunderstandings.

Online communities tend to be chock-full of plenty and I do not, nor does anyone who visits, need another reason to be tired. I'm not detailing all of this upfront because I expect to be very popular, or because I like listening to myself talk for paragraphs on end. I don't want a theoretical lack of information to be used to hurt either myself or others, though some of it shouldn't have to be spelled out in the first place.

But considering how ridiculously easy it is to misinterpret each other online, and how much of a disadvantage neuroatypical people like myself are when things are left just implicit rather than made what you could argue as exhaustingly explicit, I figured a crazy FAQ was a small price to pay for a peaceful environment.

TLDR: it certainly might be overkill, but that doesn't mean there is no point to it.

Q: What should requesters and followers call you anyways?

A: I'm fine with my username. If you're going for a different vibe, Red or Darlings sounds nice too. If you can come up with something catchier, feel free to try!

💀💀💀

On that note, I also may be slow going when it comes to requests. All I can do is promise to put a lot of thought into my replies, even though speed is not guaranteed. Any other questions can be asked directly, and I would be more than happy to answer them!

[spartanguard]

author interview 2.0

I was tagged by @laschatzi and @thisonesatellite who are absolute darlings!

I did the same survey back in September, and my answers haven’t really changed since then, so consider this a modified version, haha (but click the link to see what I said then!)

A few updates, though:

Favorite story you’ve written: Savage Garden is still my favorite of my MCs, but all the memories that we make will never change might be chasing after Until The End of the Line for favorite one-shot.

How many of your stories are complete: All but one, haha—but that’s changing, kind of!

How many of your stories are in progress: See above ;) (but also don’t look at my WIP folder)

Coming soon: When I last did this survey, I was debating coming back to my Hunger Games AU—and I am! I’ve rewritten the first part (of what will be a three-part series) for the CS Rewrite-A-Thon. It’s in the polishing/adding/editing phase right now and will debut later this year! I’ve also signed up for the CS Concert Series, where I’ll be writing a one-shot inspired by Dolly Parton (again); and CSSNS again and will (hopefully) get farther on the vampire-West Side Story-esque story I wanted to write last year. I also want to finally finish the damn neighbor AU that’s been sitting in my WIP folder for ages, as well as a few other things that have been sitting in there.

Upcoming story you’re most excited to write: My next Dolly Parton one-shot (if only because I have to post it in less than two weeks) and continue working on the second part of my Hunger Games series (especially because Catching Fire was my favorite book in the original trilogy!). And if my smut muse would come back so I could finish the neighbor fic (or the Star Trek AU that’s been in there for years), that’d be GREAT.

not sure who to tag other than @scientificapricot; but if you see this survey floating around and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!

[sarcasticdebate]

Oasis

Relationships: Echo & Spacekru, Echo & Bellamy Blake - AO3

Rating: G

Summary: Western AU Echo wanders into a new town, fleeing from the one she was chased out of and wanting nothing more than some water to drink. She doesn't expect to be so enamored by the town or it's people. 

If it were a little later in the night, and she had allowed herself a glass of that moonshine, maybe she would mention the deep sorrow that’s sat with her since she passed by Poles Ridge, the most southern landmark on a map that had placed Geda at the center. How she’s farther from home than she’s ever been before in her life. A home that’s not hers anymore, and maybe never should have been. 

The town emerges on the western horizon, a cracky outcropping against the dry flat terrain. From this distance it’s about the size of her thumbnail, the edges around it simmering in the heat. Echo considers passing it by, but she can hear her horse panting under her, and the dried riverbed she’s being following for the past forty miles doesn’t seem to be getting any wetter.

The town will have water at least, and that’s enough incentive for her to turn her reigns. Still, the horse and herself are too tired to traverse even the short distance in anything like a timely fashion. She dismounts when they are about halfway there, noticing how rocky her perch has become. Her horse needs more water than her and it’s been a dry couple of days.

Luckily the town doesn’t stop growing, and it’s motivation enough to keep her moving forward. As if sensing her own resilience, the horse remains strong too, and they stumble into the small town just before dusk.

If the place has a name, it isn’t being advertised, and she doesn’t bothering asking anyone she passes by. A few of them meet her eyes and tip their hats. One man who has the look of an immigrant from across the Pacific waves from behind his cart of vegetables, but otherwise, the townspeople recognize her as an outsider and give her room to breath.

Green’s Inn & Bar is situated near the center of town, with three stories for boarding and stables out back. A little boy sits under the overhang of the back porch and springs to his feet when he sees her, taking over the reigns of her horse with a gentle pat to his nose, and a toothy grin for her. His joy surprises her a bit, as unburdened as it is. Echo hands him a few cents without thinking about it, and if possible his delight grows at the sight of the copper coin.

“Thank you ma’am!” he calls as he takes a pail in hand and prances off towards a well somewhere. Echo cannot remember having so much easy energy as a child. Perhaps he just has good parents, or maybe it’s an indication of the kinder nature of the town in general. She can only hope.

Climbing the three steps into the salon makes her thighs burn more than it should, but her entire body burns, her skin cracked and dry and muscles tense from exertion.

“What can I get you?” asks the woman behind the bar as Echo heaves herself into a barstool.

“Just water,” Echo answers, and the woman turns to fill the order with a nod. Echo’s eyes drift shut without her permission, the restlessness of the short shifts of sleep she had dared to take on horseback the previous night creeping up on her. The tavern is quiet now, past the lunch rush and before dinner, and it wouldn’t have been hard for her to drift off if it weren’t for the man who decides to strike up a conversation with her.

“C’mon, you want something stronger than water,” he says, “Let me buy you a drink.”

Echo’s eyelids peel back, annoyance settling across her brow. There’s very little she’d like less then getting solicited at the moment.  

The man has a thin, dirty face and bright eyes. There’s a gun on his belt, but he’s shorter than her and not terribly fit, she could take him easily if he were to try anything. But she doesn’t think he will. The way he tilts his hips and crosses his arms is far from flirtatious. Not to mention his scowl.

“Alcohol is damaging when you’re dehydrated,” she says, the dryness of her tone a result of both the feeling in her mouth and her general annoyance. Unfortunately he doesn’t take the clear dismissal for what it is, tilting his head like the fact she knows something so obvious makes her more interesting. Or challenging. The frown isn’t as deep.

“Ignore him,” says another voice, female this time, and coming from her other side. “John’s been sober six years and ‘as forgotten how booze work.” The woman has darker skin, more appropriate for the desert sun, and a mark around her eye like a sailor’s tattoo. Her eyes are bright too, but not with enthusiasm. More like the shimmering waves of heat on the horizon at mid day, the ones that make water seem just a step away. Echo notices the gun on her hip too.

“You’re new in town,” the woman remarks, taking the seat next to Echo without asking. As if it were an invitation, the man, John, takes the seat on her right.

“Just passing through,” Echo says, wishing they’d get the hint and just scram.

“Passing through? Hope little Jordan’s taking care of your horse.” Echo was never groomed with manners. The next thing out of her mouth would have been a lashing dismissal to leave her well the fuck alone, if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted with a loud cough.

“Murphy, Emori, I hope you aren’t giving this lady any trouble?” Her uninvited companions turn at the sound with matching eyerolls. The new party stands behind them, his voice is deep and authoritative. Something inside her perks up immediately upon hearing it. He has his thumbs tucked beneath his belt too make his chest seem larger. The sherrif badge on his breast gleams.

“Us, Bellamy? Never,” John (Murphy?) says with clearly false affront.

“Then leave her alone,” he says, with exasperation this time rather than sternness.

“Nothing wrong with a conversation, Bellamy,” Emori says, but swings herself out of the chair nonetheless. “Sorry I never caught your name, I’m Emori,” she says.

“Echo,” she relents, a consolation for their leaving. Emori smiles like she doesn’t believe that’s her real name, but will except it for the time being. She gives her a wave before going to meet Murphy at the pool table, her hand and fingers curved like a ginger root. Echo turns her gaze to Bellamy quickly.

“Sorry about them,” he says, indicating if he can take Murphy’s vacated chair. She nods. Pleasant company she will take. “I’m convinced the two of them are the best con men west of the Mississippi, didn’t want you getting caught up in it. It’s sorta my job to manage the crime,” he says with a short chuckle, pointing to the badge like she might have somehow missed it.

“Really?” she questioned with disbelief, casting the couple a quick glance. As far as she can tell the pair are flirting outrageously as they take turns stretching out across the pool table.

“Probably planning on learning your schedule so they could nick your horse when you leave, something of a bad habit the two of them have.”

She inspects Bellamy’s face. The lines of his humor are still there, but they lay over years of turmoil and hard work, she can see it weathered on his face. The generosity doesn’t fit neatly into that mosaic. People are weathered like that too, where she’s from, and they have a way of dealing with thieves.

“Why don’t you hang them?” she asks. Bellamy blinks.

“It’s been done,” he says, somber. “Didn’t quite stick.”

He coughs, shallow and awkward from his throat. “Besides, they keep all the other raiders and gangs away. Orchestrated a ‘mining accident’ that’s kept McCreary and his boys out of these parts for years.”

Echo has some concerns about his methods of law enforcement, but she doesn’t get a chance to voice them, interrupted by the server.

“Sorry for the wait, here’s your water,” she says, handing over a bigger glass than Echo could have dreamed. “And some cabbage soup. Best stuff in town, my husband grows the cabbages himself, and it’s more nutritious than you think. You looked like you could use a good meal.”

There’s a hunk of bread next to the steaming bowl of soup and she tears into it immediately, caught off guard by her own hunger. Sustaining herself off of canned rations and the burnt game she’d shot for the past week has done no favors for her stomach.

“Thank you,” she says, remembering her manners after a gulp of the soup burns the top of her mouth.

“Of course!” The patronne says, and then turns to Bellamy. “And what can I get for you?”

“The same as she’s having, Harper” He says with a smile, “And Monty’s finest moonshine, if you don’t mind.”

Harper laughs, even as she slides down the bar to fill the order, “You know that stuff is all nauseating.”

“Just the way I like it.”

Echo sets down the glass of water, half of which she’s already downed.

“This is a nice place,” she remarks, in part to Bellamy, but mostly to herself. Recognizing someone’s needs isn’t something she’s used to in customer service. The atmosphere here is camaradic too, rather than sordid. She cups her hands around the bowl of soup, the warmth seeping into her skin.

“Yeah, Harper’s a good soul,” Bellamy says, following the woman’s back as she prepares his drink. Echo nods in agreement, but that isn’t quite what she meant.

“Not just her, your town in general. The people here are generous, they seem happy.” Bellamy tilts his head like she’s some antiquity.

“You’ve been here less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that? After those idiots tried to scam you?”

“It doesn’t take long to feel the nature of a place,” Echo argues. She’s good at first impressions, she knows she’s right. “Even your criminals do their part to protect this town, how many places can say the same?”

That at least gives him pause, although he still seems on the fence about agreeing with her. “You must be doing your job well Sheriff Bellamy.”

He’s more pensive then, his face a little darker. Things haven’t always been like this, then. Maybe they won’t be for much longer. She wonders what he sacrificed of himself to reach this state of peace.

“I do my best,” is all he concedes. “What about you?” He asks, “What kind of place are you from?”

Does she want to tell him? The events of the past month burn her mouth hotter than the soup ever could, and there’s no real harm in this stranger knowing. Not when his kindness lifts the dark circles from under his eyes.

“A harsher one than here,” she says, “in Dakota territory.”

Bellamy shifts in his seat, and for a moment she believes he’s going to defend the cruel environment of his town, some sort of showing of male bravado, but instead he nods at her to continue when she pauses.

“Winters are always the worst, but we knew how to deal with them. It was this summer we didn’t know how to handle. The wells dried up.”

Bellamy’s face fell, even talking about it now makes the back of her throat itch. She takes another drink of water.

“I was the deputy of a town whose neighbors were killing each other for their water stores.”

It is at that moment Harper comes back with Bellamy’s food and drink. Her face was as equally stricken as his.

“Well God bless you,” she says with genuine sympathy, and for some reason Echo finds comfort in the sad pinch of her brows. She recognizes empathy of course, but can hardly remember the last time any was granted onto her.

“I thought we needed outside help,” Echo continues, acknowledging Harper with a small nod, “a commision or something to get water or at least move the people out till the dry months were past. But the mayor and our sheriff disagreed. They thought that if they allowed the townspeople lowered the population enough we would be able to ration the stores and make it by ourselves.

“I love-loved Geda, I couldn’t see it torn apart like that. When I protested their plan I was chased out of town.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harper says, her fingers are curled around the edges of her sleeves.

“As am I,” Bellamy agrees in his lower register.

There’s more to say of course. She could explain the pain and confusion she’s felt the past few weeks, thinking of the bodies of her friends and neighbors that she left behind. People she had sworn to protect. Or the anger that had made her sick the first night, the brine in her mouth a manifestation of the sourness the betrayal of her leaders had left her with. If it were a little later in the night, and she had allowed herself a glass of that moonshine, maybe she would mention the deep sorrow that’s sat with her since she passed by Poles Ridge, the most southern landmark on a map that had placed Geda at the center. How she’s farther from home than she’s ever been before in her life. A home that’s not hers anymore, and maybe never should have been.

“Well, you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay,” Harper says, “We have rooms for long-term lodging, and if you can’t pay for it there’s plenty of ways to help around here. Monty is always clambering for another pair of hands in the garden.”

“That I am,” says a new voice, Harper’s husband, who Echo recognizes even without his hat and cart of vegetables, and who seems to recognize her in turn. The look on his face suggests he’s heard the tail end of her story.  “I unpacked everything into the cellar,” he says just to Harper, followed by a brief kiss. He looks about ready to strike up a conversation with Bellamy, but is caught with his mouth half open at the look of concentration on Bellamy’s face.

“Or you might think about working for me,” he says after a held moment. He continues quickly once all the present company turn to him in confusion. “I have a deputy, and no plans to leave her jobless,” he says, to the benefit of Harper, who looked about ready to lash into him at the comment. The woman in question is no doubt a friend of hers. “But Raven’s more concerned with city planning, and getting the railroad to come this way than she’s ever been with watching crime. I could use another deputy with a good head on her shoulders, especially…”

He drifts off, but the look of contained excitement on Monty’s face suggests he suspects where Bellamy was going. “Especially when you’re mayor,” he finishes for him.

“You’re really going to run?” Harper asks with obvious excitement, the revelation news to her.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, “I talked to Clarke about it today. She wasn’t exactly happy about it, but I can’t stand by her single minded viewpoints anymore. Killing anyone who might be a threat to the town isn’t a sound method of crime control,” here he indicates his head behind him, to where Murphy and Emori are still loitering about the pool table, eavesdropping Echo realizes now. “but she’s still unwilling to change. So we’ve decided to make it a fair race. I actually came by to tell you both. Meeting you was just a happy accident,” he says to Echo specifically. “You seem experienced in the type of situation we’re dealing with. I’d love to have you on my team.”

“You’ve known me less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that?” she says, genuinely curious, but with a fair amount of good humor as well. By all accounts Bellamy seems to be a good man who associates with good, if morally dubious, people.

“It doesn’t take me long to gather the nature of a person,” he says with an intimate smile. For the first time in recent memory, her chest feels lighter, her heart excited. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know the horrible things she’s done in the name of justice and protection, no doubt he’s done the same, he’s seen the good in her too.

“Well that’s a load of horseshit,” Murphy interrupts, coming back to the bar. Emori reclaims her seat on Echo’s left, sneaking a sip of Bellamy’s untouched moonshine with only Echo to notice. “And to think our mayor is going to have your ego.”

“Be quiet, Murphy” Bellamy says, still focused on Echo.

“I think I’d like to stay for awhile,” she says. “Yours seems a worthy cause to fight for.”

Bellamy smiles at her as the other four erupt into debates about how to gain Bellamy favor in the election. His eyes only break away from hers when there’s a commotion at the door. A woman in fashionable yet practical clothing bursts into the room, her arms encumbered by a large stack of papers that seems at risk of falling at each of her limping steps.

“I just got back from the press, look at these bad boys,” she says to the room at large, holding up a poster with BELLAMY BLAKE FOR MAYOR printed proudly down the middle.

“Thank you Raven,” Bellamy says as Harper hurries over to take some of the papers, wasting no time in sticking them to her walls. “This is Echo,” he introduces, “She’s from up north, I’ve recruited her.”

“I’m Raven, it’s a pleasure,” she says, reaching out to shake her hand, then turning to Monty, “get me a drink, would you Green?”

The bar is a flurry of activity after that as the six of them discuss the town’s issues, and Echo is no expert, but she contributes when she can and the others listen and respond and make her question her ideals. Stories are flung around the room, Echo’s among them, and what an odd feeling it is, to feel accepted despite it.

Other patronnes come and go, stopping by to question Bellamy or to clap him on the back. Some even address her, wondering about her endeavors or welcoming her. Harper leaves at one point to collect her son, only for the boy to refuse going to bed and run around the bar to the delight of everyone except his parents. But eventually he’s tucked in, and the bar clears out, Bellamy the last to go. Monty brings her up to her new room, small but comfortable, the few belongings left in her saddlebag already there.

Echo pours herself another glass of water from the pitcher before climbing into bed. She finishes  it and feels sated.