#┆ ⌦ .｡.:* A TALE OF DERRING DO — answered.

[powerfought]

@byteing asked : “ Locked tight , but  there  must  be  some  way  to  open  it.”  [  astarion  @  cazador.  the  precursor  to  becoming  an  excellent  lockpicker  perhaps.  ]

" there must be , and yet , here we are. " ruby hues fixed on the gorgeous man sat at his feet , a gold-trimmed , aged jewelry box in his hands , the vampire lord opens a drawer of his desk. he rummages for a moment before drawing out a tool — clearly well-loved but equally cared for — and offering it to the spawn. " if you are to be of any use to me and your siblings , you ought to start perfecting your skills. picking locks is as good a place to start as any. "

once the lockpick is taken from his grasp , cazador's hand begins gently combing through astarion's waves. a soft hum sounds in his throat , reveling in just how soft , how sweet his newest acquisition is. hopefully , he turns out to be a good investment in the long term. " go on — you will not break it. that thing is older than me , if you can believe it. let us see how you fare without instruction first. impress me , astarion. "

[teencopandthesourwolf]

edited version now found ON AO3 HERE

.

“Um, are you—uhhhh, are you, like...” Stiles tries swallowing the boulder sized lump in his throat to no avail. The rest of the sentence then rushes out of him like word vomit. “Der, are you seeing other people?”

“No.” Derek's answer is immediate and definite-sounding, out of his gorgeous mouth before Stiles can even look up at him. “Are you?”

Stiles' eyes shoot up and almost out of his head. He somehow manages not to splutter his reply. “I most definitely am not.”

Oh my God, as if.

“But you... want to?” Derek half presumes because he's quite obviously fucking braindead. “Is that why you brought it up?”

“What? No! Not at all! Why, do you—” Oh shit, he might just vomit for realsies. “Do you want to?”

“No, not at all,” Derek parrots, and Stiles thanks all the Gods he's never believed in.

“Oh, right, well. Good. That's—that's good to know.”

Stiles just really, really, really needed to know. Like, either way, you know? But holy Toledo, Cousin Miguel! Thank baby Jesus and the donkey and those Frankincense dudes and the Brokeback cowboys for humongous gigantor mercies.

Derek takes a breath. “I mean, I'd share you if that's what you wanted, but I... wouldn't exactly relish the thought.”

Okay, Stiles is now thanking the Flying Spaghetti Monster from Pastafarianism.

His lips twitch when the souwolf's grim-set features soften just a touch.

“Fuck it, you know what?” Derek asks before barrelling on without waiting for an answer. “If you were a wolf, you'd know that I'm actually a lying liar who lies,” he admits, seemingly out of nowhere.

Stiles's eyebrows try to match Derek's but fail, obviously. His stomach is trying to relocate in the fiery pits of the underworld via Nilfheim. “Oh yeah? H-how so?”

He very narrowly escapes getting whiplash when he finds himself batting his lashes and sucking on his bottom lip as he realises—after studying Derek for a moment, like, really looking at him—that he knows exactly how so. He doesn't need to hear heartbeats or scent stuff or whatever to perceive the quiet fury simmering away behind those silly-beautiful kaleidoscope eyes.

“Because...” Derek starts, hesitant, but that only lasts till he's looking up and seeing Stiles nodding furiously at him. Stiles knows. “Because you're mine,” he snarls, all wild and possesive and one hundred percent spectacularly correct.

Derek's eyes flash blood-red, and Stiles practically whimpers.

Then Stiles is lunging, slamming his face into Derek's while mumbling a garbled, “You're goddamn right I am,” directly into Derek's hot, wet, wide-open maw; fangs and growls and all.

Derek, ever the Big Bad, gobbles his words, and him, right the fuck up, ripping off Stiles's red hoodie before practically shredding the rest of his clothes with those lengthend black nail-claws.

As he gives himself over completely to getting gloriously mauled, Stiles idly considers how the only religion he'd ever align himself with is printed on the pages of Grimms' Fairy Tales.

Well, minus the grandma, of course. This particular retelling is way too saucy for his babcia.

[wynndigogh]

A TMNT tale

The Perfect Trap

Part 5: Despoilation Nonnegotiable Authorized

Warning: No Minors, 18+ ONLY

SYNOPSIS:

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles face a new threat when Baxter Stockman returns with a cunning plan and a deadly new weapon. As they battle his latest creations, the turtles realize their enemy is always one step ahead.

But the danger hits closer to home when Leonardo’s relationship with his girlfriend is put to the test, forcing him to balance his duty as leader with his heart.

With danger closing in from all sides, the turtles must uncover the truth behind Stockman's scheme before it destroys them and everything they hold dear.

But as secrets come to light, they learn that the stakes are higher than they ever imagined—and one of their own may be caught in the crossfire.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄☄

Eight heavy metal spheres slam into the ground encircling the turtle brothers.

“Whoa, what are these things”, an apprehensive Michelangelo inquires while taking a step back as a precaution.

As if to answer his question, the metallic units emit a hiss of escaping pressurized gas and begin to unfold. The terrapins gasp as the alloy objects unfurl into eight humanoid robots, each brandishing dual fighting swords and with four additional cylindrical appendages on their backs.

“D’hey look like foot bots on steroids”, Raph growls and braces in his fighting stance.

Michelangelo quips, “Actually, they look like foot- bot peacocks, oh let’s call them foot-peas?  No-no, foot-cocks!”

“Shut up idiot”, the red brute grumbles in annoyance, “I don’t care what der called, with only eight of dem, dis is gonna be a piece of cake taking dem out.”

“Don’t go getting cocky, Raph, we don’t know this enemy”, Leonardo warns.

The robots fan out, taking up strategic positions around the turtles.  With a sleek metal zinging sound, four additional sword blades extend from the four arms on their backs.

“Oh boy”, Leonardo exclaims, stressing over the development.

“Uh, Leo, with those additional swords, each mechanic fighter is going to be able to perform significantly intricate techniques at substantial speeds.  Essentially, master swordsman levels”, Donatello explains, “it’s gonna be like fighting eight Master Splinters”.

“And we’re not at the top of our game due to the party”, the blue banded terrapin laments.

 “What we do, Leo,” Raphael asking getting antsy and ready to charge.

“My order from earlier still stands, don’t get killed”, the leader replies as the first of the bots leads the charge in.

The sounds of metal clashes against metal and wood as the robots’ weapons collide with the turtles’ weapons.  The turtle brothers are moving fast, eyes watching as many open angles as possible to avoid being skewered through by a blade.

“Rocksteady, I believe this is our cue to exit”, Bebop whispers to his companion above the sounds of battle.  The two mutants dash down the pier to the waiting submersible that wis hiding below the line of sight from the docks.

“They’re getting away”, Donnie relays to Leonardo.

“Let them go”, Leo responds as two sweeping blades miss the top of his scaled head by centimeters, “we’ve got our hands full here.  Something’s not right about this situation”.

“Ya think!”, the sarcastic retort is tossed at Leonardo from the Raph who is holding two swords locked in his sais , dodging the rest of that robot’s arms, while simultaneously kicking a second robot backwards, preventing it from being within critical striking distance of his stationary body.

Mikey looks like a tumbling flea on speed, jumping from one spot to another, trying to stay ahead of the mechanical fighters’ blade arches and Donnie is utilizing the long reach of his bo staff to establish a perimeter of safety around himself while trying to trip up the anatomical machines and take out their legs.

Something is off about this fight.  

Leonardo’s keen fighter’s sense knows this setup, this location, is all wrong.  

Why would an ambush come out in the open like this?  There are too many variables available for this ambush to be infallible.  Why didn’t whoever is giving orders Bebop and Rocksteady have the mutant duo choose a more secure and controlled location? What is the purpose?

Leo is pulled from his mental analysis by Raphael’s yowl of pain.  The scaled behemoth has a bleeding slice across his shoulder and other wet red spots can be seen developing around his arms.  His close combat techniques aren’t a match for the two robots that have him encaged.  As if one yelp of pain wasn’t enough, the blue banded turtle hears a similar shocked cry come from his right, Donnie’s arm is lowered, protecting his side which is now showing a splotch of red.

We’ve got to do something; we can’t hold them off indefinitely.

“Donnie”, the leader yells, “are you able to do anything about shutting these things down?”

Donatello uses his staff to pole vault out of the center of the two surrounding him, gaining some open space, keeping the mechanical fighters coming at him from one direction.  “If they are transmitting, I may be able to hack into their systems remotely, but I’ll need some space and time.”

“Right,” Leonardo replies, “Raph, Mikey, back-to-back, keep Donnie covered in the middle.”

The three brothers cocoon Donatello in the middle of them, forming a triangle of protection around the computer wiz.  The eight robotic fighters encircle them, multiple arms swinging at once.  The area is a blur of deadly robotic arms and swooshing sounds.  Each brother feels a nick here, a stab of pain there, but they try to keep up as best they can while Donatello works on his halo screens and keyboards to scan the robots systems.

“Come on, come on…”, the purple genius talks to himself as lines of code speed across the halo screen, “there!  Yes!  Their transmitting, the encryption is…spectacular.”

“Donnie.”, Leonardo warns, when Donatello seeing interesting tech he can get distracted if not kept on task.

“Right, it’s complex but not Donnie-proof, just one sec, Leo.”

His long, dexterous fingers flying over the halo keyboard typing with feverish speed.  “Okay, I have some good news and some bad news”, he yells over the chaos.

“I’m gonna be yer bad news IF YA DON’T HURRY DA HELL UP!”, Raph growls in frustration as the takes another hit across one of his shoulders.

“Guys, my health bar is depleting.  I need a reset”, Mikey exclaims, using gamer lingo to express his dire straits.  He’s dodging and swinging his ‘chucks to parry the blades coming at him but with each passing second his speed and technique is floundering. His round cherub face is nicked all over from blades narrowly missing a death blow.

“Talk to me Donnie”, Leo orders while trying to block as many blows as possible coming at him and his two brothers.

“Good news I’m in, the bad news is I can’t shut them down, I can only slow them down”, Donnie explains.

“Do it!”, Leo instructs, “Raph, Mikey, get ready for one last surge”.

 With a few taps to his halo keyboard, Donnie uploads his own code to infiltrate and swamp the processors inside the units.  Within seconds, the speed of the robotic arms is slowed as the fighters’ processors strain to filter out Donnie’s mass of code from actual system commands.

The delay in the robots’ swings is all that is needed for the turtles to make their stand.  As the sword arms of each robot delay a second from initial start of the swing to the follow through, the momentary pause is enough of an opening for the brothers to do their own damage.  

Raphael’s sais stab into the under pit of each frontal arm, sending sparks flying.  With the rumbling roar of the mixture of pain, frustration, and physical effort, the brute rips the front facing arms off each of the robots in front of him.  

Donnie sails over the brute’s head and lands behind the backs of the units, using his staff to bar-lock the back paneled arms into a trapped position, leaving them open and vulnerable.  Raphs three-pronged weapons spear into the faces of the two mechanical fighters.  The two tall terrapins share a quick fist bump before turning and helping the baby of the bunch to take down the three attackers in his corner.

Leonardo uses the last of his speed and every technique his father ever showed him to parry the blades of the three robots facing him.  His wrist and hand wraps are seeping red from the open wounds on his forearms, but he doesn’t feel any pain as he pushes his mind into space between thought and action.  

The space where only instinct and the will to survive is paramount.  The space where the momentary pause of his opponent gives me all the opening that he needs to go in for the strike.

The sound of metal clashing and zinging is barely audible above the hammering of his own heart.  With a quick slice here, and a back-pass of his blade there, the arms of the foot bots are falling away piece by piece.

By the time he becomes aware of his own breath huffing in his ears, his broad chest heaving from the exertion, the metallic fighters are laying in a heap of scrap metal at his feet.

He takes a moment to survey those in his care.  Michelangelo dramatically falls to the ground to rest, Donatello is leaning on his knees trying to steady his breathing, and Raph is pacing in agitation.

His brothers are worn, cut and blood washed, but alive.  That is what matters. 

“Who’s motha’fuckng ass am I beating for dis shit?”, Raphael’s anger rolls off him in palpable waves.

“Well, my guess would be Stockman”, Donnie huffs out between breaths, “the encryption, the system setup, everything about these bots has me putting my bets on him.”

“There’s still something off about this situation”, Leonardo replies as much to himself as to the team.

A hissing release of pressurized gas emits from the chest compartments of the units and panel sides open on each.  From each of the eight openings, a tiny sphere the size of grapefruits exits quickly, shooting off down the dock, and splashes into the water below.

“What was that?”, an alarmed Mikey jumps up from the ground and moves closer to the safety of his older brothers.

Leonardo and Donatello exchange looks.  Donnie doesn’t give an indication of what he thinks it may be and only shrugs.

“Whatever happened here tonight, I have a feeling that this is just the beginning”, Leonardo speculates aloud. 

🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖

@thelaundrybitch

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 36

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to save the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Word count: 4.5k

TW: sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well), she/her pronouns, animal death

You bring the steaming tin cup up to your lips and take a small sip of the bitter coffee. It's oddly quiet around camp. Oddly empty too.

"Pearson and Uncle left.", Tilly tells you, breaking the silence and you nod to yourself.

"They probably don't want to die.", you answer and stretch your legs out infront of you.

The light sound of liquid sloshing inside a bottle can be heard from your other side where Karen is sitting. She takes a generous swig from the whisky. Lately she has been drinking more liquor than before. For a moment it looks like she wants to say something, but then decides to stay quiet.

As you lean back into your chair, you let your eyes wander around. There on the other side, you see Jack playing with a stick, tracing patterns on the ground and Abigail is watching him. A deep sigh leaves your lips.

"Let's ride out, gentlemen!", Dutch shouts and everyone who was sitting around the campfire, walks towards their horses.

A bit confused, you stand up and place your coffee cup down.

"Are you not comin' with them?", Tilly asks you the exact question, that you are thinking right now.

Then Micah appears infront of you and shoves a Carbine Repeater into your hands. You stare at him in bewilderment, as he grins at you widely, baring his teeth.

"We'll be robbin' us a train and we need a fine gun to guard the camp in the meantime. You think you're up for that, darlin?"

Still a bit caught off guard, you lower your gaze to look at the weapon in your hands. You have never been ordered to stand guard, so it's a bit sudden and surprising, that you're expected to do it now.

"Don't you want me on the train job?", you ask and instinctively flinch away when he gives your shoulder a slow pat.

"Dutch wants you right here, darlin'."

With that he strolls away and rides off with the others. The repeater feels unusually heavy in your grasp.

"He gives me the creeps.", Tilly comments and you grunt in agreement.

"You don't say."

You take a moment to familiarize yourself with the new gun, before walking to the camp entrance and standing guard. So far, your camp hasn't been attacked up here yet. Not by the murfree gang and not by the Pinkertons either, so you don't expect for it to happen now.

It's an intimidating thought, being the only one to watch the camp while the others are gone, but you comfort yourself with the thought, that Grimshaw is here as well. She hasn't left the gang and she can work a gun just nicely. A mental image of Molly's bloody corpse flickers in your mind at that thought.

Behind you, the remaining members of the Van Der Linde gang are completely silent. Only the crackling of the fire and the occasional scraping of Jack's stick fills the air. Other than that it's quiet. You begin to play with the thought of getting the women out right now. Now would be an amazing opportunity for that.

But Miss Grimshaw might shoot you on the spot for it. Granted, Dutch and her have been going through some nasty fights and arguments the past week, but she is still loyal to the gang. At least you assume she is. It could very well be, that she might have a change of heart and even help you get everyone out.

A cold breeze tugs at your clothes and sends a shiver down your spine. Perhaps you should go and quickly grab your coat. Who knows how long you will be standing here. With the repeater slung around your shoulder, you turn around on your heels and walk towards Arthur's tent on the whole other side.

That is when the hair on the back of your neck stands up. It's as if something from beyond is yelling at you to stop, the alarm bells in your head ringing uncontrollably. In the same moment, you hear the sound of hooves and you immediately ready your gun.

"Everyone! Get down!", you shout from the top of your lungs and take cover yourself behind the weapon wagon.

Just a heartbeat later, bullets rain down on you and you hear the terrified shouts of your friends. At every given opening, you peak out from behind the wagon and shoot some of the men down. You recognize the suits they're wearing. They're from the detective agency.

You press your back tightly against the wood, as more shots fall and you scan your surroundings. Over at the food wagon, you see Karen and Tilly cowering and further down, closer to you, is Jack behind a barrel. He's making himself as small as possible and covering his ears with his small hands.

Your heartbeat picks up with fear and worry and you fall into a sprint while aiming at the armed men to stop them from shooting. In one swift motion, you pick the boy up with one arm and dash towards your two friends. They're staring at you with wide eyes when you arrive with the kid.

"I'll distract them and you two get him out of here.", you order through gritted teeth and reload your gun.

"Mamma!", Jack cries out in a high pitched voice and you cup his cheek to stop him from looking at the mess, the camp has become.

"I'll get her for you, honey. You just stay with aunt Tilly and aunt Karen and do as they say. Okay?" You talk in a sweet voice, hoping it would keep him calm.

Jack only manages a nod and you urge him and the two women to go for the horses. As they flee, you empty your gun, not aiming for anyone in particular and just shooting in the general direction of the men. You don't intend to kill, but to keep them busy.

Once the trio makes it safely out of camp, you frantically search around for Abigail. For a horrible moment you begin to believe, that she might be hurt or worse. Then you hear a hysterical scream from the other side of camp and you watch her being dragged away. She's kicking and screaming, putting up one hell of a fight.

Immediately you aim and pull the trigger, hitting him in the shoulder. Another one of them falls by your hand almost right after and you're internally begging for Abigail to just get up in run. Though now you notice, that they've got her hogtied and you curse under your breath.

It's risky, maybe even foolish, but you make a run for it. Bullets whizz past you, but you keep your pace and slide over the grass to kneel next to her. Quickly you get to work to remove the rope around her wrists and ankles.

"Jack! My son-"

"He's safe. He got out with the girls.", you tell her and you can feel her relax under you.

Something cold is being pushes against your temple and you slowly raise your hands. You don't have to look to know who it is.

"And here I thought I had killed you back at the bank.", Mr. Milton drawls and you don't dare move a single muscle.

"Then why have a bounty on my head?", you ask, voice strained.

"Ah, just for safety. In case you did make it out alive.", he answers and someone else harshly pulls your hands onto your back to tie them together. "But you're a resilient one. You'd make a fine bounty hunter I must say, but one needs common sense and morality to pursue a legal profession."

"I have more common sense than you might think, Detective.", you snarl with a bitter scoff, as your legs are being tied together. Next thing you know, you're being carelessly thrown onto horseback and groan in pain from your wound.

"I highly doubt that.", Milton retorts, mounting the horse you're on and rides off to Van Horn.

---

You find yourself tied to a chair in a shack at the docks.

"Didn't you say, that you wouldn't keep a single one of us alive?", you ask, tugging at the rope to get it to loosen up somehow, but to no avail. It cuts into your skin instead.

"You'll be put on a boat and trialed for murder.", Milton explains, as he stares out of one of the windows. You wonder if he can even see anything through the dirt and the grime.

"And why exactly are we waiting here?" Then it comes to you and you let out a humorless chuckle. "Dutch won't come for us. He..."

You don't finish the sentence, but you don't have to.

"I don't expect Mr. Van Der Linde to show up, but some of your other friends certainly will. Mr. Morgan for example."

Upon hearing the name, you tug harsher at the rope, ignoring the sharp pain in your arms. If you stay here then you will be executed. That is for certain. But if Arthur walks right into this trap, which he will guns blazing most likely, then he will be doomed too.

The only thing you can do is hope, that Dutch does in fact have some decency left and will gather his men to come and save you. Though you're very well aware, that that's only wishful thinking. He's not the same man who welcomed you into the gang in the snowy mountain. In fact, you wouldn't even be surprised if this was a set-up. Micah was very adamant about having you stay behind after all.

"We offered you all a deal.", Milton continues on, watching you with cold eyes. "Not many of you have so many scruples. Old Micah Bell-"

"You mean Molly?", you interrupt him, thinking he might have mixed up the names, but you're not too sure. A pit begins to form in your stomach.

"Molly O'Shea? We sweated her a couple times. She never said a single word."

A choked back sob almost leaves your throat and you close your eyes. So the reason why she said, that she was the traitor was a different one.

"Micah Bell. We picked him up after the bank robbery and he's been a good boy ever since."

Dutch, you fool...you absolute moron...

Suddenly there are people shouting outside, followed by the sound of gun shots. Milton doesn't look caught off guard though. On the contrary, you don't think you have ever seen him so pleased and smug. He returns his attention back to the window and you resume your attempt on loosening the ropes.

For a dreadful second there, you almost give up hope, but then you feel it give in. It's not a little bit, but enough to fuel your resolve and you pull and wiggle harder until your hand can move freely in and out. You almost gasp in victory, but bite down on your tongue just in time.

It sounds like there is quite a struggle outside and you start to assume, that Arthur might not be alone. Of course he isn't. He most likely has John and Sadie with him and those three is all you need to get out in one piece. Without Milton noticing, you undo the rest and grab a knife to cut Abigail's ropes.

A familiar click stops you and you find yourself once again at the end of the detective's barrel.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?", he growls.

You don't know what exactly is driving you to jump forward and grasp the gun, but you do just that. It's an unnecessary fight. A fight you know you can't win. Even as you use your entire weight to push down the weapon, he still overpowers you and the revolver slowly aims at your face.

The bullet to your gut was a critical situation, one you barely survived, but survive you did. A shot to the head on the other hand? Not even you are this lucky. Knowing, that you can't turn this around anymore, you close your eyes and wait for it.

An earpiercing peng cuts through the air and you stare in horror, as Agent Milton falls to the floor. Your eyes wander and you see Abigail holding your pistol in her trembling hands. Smoke is coming out of the barrel and your knees buckle.

"Shit.", you breathe out with a dry chuckle. "Good timing."

"Yeah...I know.", she mumbles, just as breathless as you are.

Next thing you know, the door is being kicked open with such brute force, that the entire shed seems to shake. Arthur's eyes are wide open and he looks terrified. Soon he relaxes when he sees Milton's body and he scoops you up in a bone crushing embrace.

"Are you hurt?", he asks and steps back to get a better look at you.

"No, I'm fine."

Right after him, Sadie enters through the door, closely followed by Lenny and Sean. Your heart jumps at the sight and Arthur helps you back up to your feet. Everyone is rushing out of the shed and away from the scene.

"It was Micah.", you then break the silence and they all stop dead in their tracks.

"What?", Sadie asks, her features contorting into an angry mask.

"He is the rat. Molly never said a word."

"How can you be sure?", Sean chimes in and you feel Abigail's presence by your side.

"Milton told us.", she says and the tension hangs heavy in the air.

For a long time it's quiet, but then you see more lawmen charge you further down the road. A curse leaves your lips and Arthur helps you get onto the back of his stallion. You all ride off into the opposite direction and into the woods to lose them.

One hand is holding tightly onto the outlaw, so you wouldn't get bucked off and the other fishes the Cattleman out of his holster. Quickly, you twist your torso and pull the trigger a few times, watching two men fall to the ground.

"We need to split up! Lenny, Sean! You go left!", Arthur shouts over the sound of bullets and the guys vanish behind bushes and trees.

The chase continues, as you follow the road, but with less men on your tail now. It's difficult to keep a steady aim on horseback, but after a couple attempts and some luck, you manage to take out the last few remaining pinkertons.

Sadie and Arthur ride more ahead until you get to a cross section and you see Penthesilea hitched to one of the tree trunks. You could have cried out in joy upon seeing your girl and you immediately jump down to greet her.

"Where is John?", Abigail asks as you lead your Andalusian onto the road. "What happened to John?"

Sadie and Arthur exchange grim looks and you feel your throat tightening up.

"He..." It's so unfamiliar to hear the outlaw's voice shake this much. "He either got killed or he got captured."

Immediately, Abigail's legs seem to give in, but Sadie catches her in time. She sobs uncontrollably and you feel your own eyes begin to well up at the prospect of John being gone.

"Jack is safe. He's with Tilly and Karen. Mrs. Adler will take you to him.", Arthur continues softly, attempting to sooth her pain. "But John...I want you to know, that he loved you. He loved you and Jack, he did. He wasn't perfect, but he did. Now you gotta get that boy."

He gently pushes her towards Penthesilea and you watch in confusion, as he helps her onto the saddle. Sadie places a hand on your back and guides you to her own horse.

"Didn't you say you'd take her to Jack-", you start, but then freeze in place. That's when it hits you and you hastily shake your head. "No...No!"

"You're leaving with 'em and that's the end of the matter." Arthur's words cut through your heart like an axe. He might as well have put a bullet between your eyes. That would have been more merciful than this.

"I'm not leaving.", you protest loudly and run after him.

With one hand on the saddle, he looks at you, his expression filled with sorrow.

"I'm sorry.", he murmurs and you take his hand.

"Don't do this to me, Arthur. Don't you send me away now."

"It's for the better."

"Bullshit!", you snap and hot tears run down your cheek.

His calloused hand touches the side of your face and his thumb caresses your skin. Then he pulls you in and leaves the ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

"Understand, that I'm only doin' this, 'cause I love you."

"If you love me, then let me come with you. Let me be by your side.", you beg, desperation lacing your voice.

"I can't, sweetheart. I've lost too many people dear to me already. I can't lose you too.", he whispers against your lips and leans his forehead against yours. "If this was a different life and I was a different man, I'd have married you."

Arthur starts to pull away, but your hands shoot forward to grab him by his arms. "You can still do that! Stay! Stay with me and we will get married, Arthur, please don't do this to me."

"I'm sorry." He takes you by your wrists and gently, but firmly removes your hands from his sleeves. "I love you."

With these words, he mounts his Kentucky Saddler and rides off into the distance. Sadie keeps you in places even as you kick, punch and scream. Hysterical sobs and pleas leave your throat, as you fight against her iron grip with all your might and force.

"You come back here!", you scream from the top of your lungs. "I hate you! I hate you, Arthur Morgan!"

Your words sound hollow even in your own ears. A cruel lie, produced by your misery and despair.

"We need to leave. Now.", she insists, her voice soft, yet stern.

"I'm not leaving him!"

She drags you to her horse and you try to push her away from you.

"Let me go, Sadie! I swear to God, I will kill you with my own two hands if you don't let me follow him!"

Sadie buries her fingers deep into your shoulders and stares you down.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind, woman? You will die!", she yells and you shake your head.

"Then let me."

"Forget it."

Blind rage flares up in your chest and you harshly slap her hands away, backing off. An exhausted sigh escapes her lips and she pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Don't make this difficult.", she pleads. "I don't wanna have to knock you out."

"Would you have done it? Would you have let Jake go for him to die?"

The woman's face freezes into an unreadable grimace and you know you've hit her hard with this, hit a nerve. It's a low blow, but one you're ready to deal if it meant, that you can open her eyes like that.

"I promised Arthur to keep you safe.", she whispers, looking conflicted. Slowly you take both her hands in yours.

"I know...but we both know what happens if he dies and I'm not there with him."

I will suffer the same way, you are suffering now.

Her resistance crumbles and she holds her rifle out to you. You take it with a mumbled 'thank you'.

"Now you go and give 'em hell." She mounts her horse and Abigail wraps her arms around Sadie's waist. "If you die, I'll raise you from the dead and kill you again, ya hear me?"

Tears glisten in her eyes and she rides off without another word. Quickly, you jump onto Penthesilea's back and signal her to gallop in full speed. Wind whips against your face and your body aches from all the tension in your muscles. Convincing Sadie to let you go might have taken too long. You might be too late already.

By the time you arrive at camp, you're being greeted with utter chaos. The tents and wagons are destroyed and bodies lay scattered carelessly around. By the campfire, you spot Miss Grimshaw on the ground, lifeless. Blood is oozing out of her chest and your eyes frantically scan the area.

If she's dead then-

A cough rips you out of your thoughts and you almost immediately find the source. There is a man sitting by the cave and your heart drops into your stomach, as you recognize the grey set of hair. Numb and in shock, you dismount Penthesilea and run to him.

Hosea is spitting and coughing up blood while holding his side. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when he meets your gaze.

"What happened?", you gasp and rip off a piece of fabric from your skirt for a makeshift bandage.

He pushes your hands away when you try to tend to his wound.

"Don't bother. It's too late for me anyways."

"Don't say that.", you protest and bite down on your quivering lip.

"But it's true." He pauses to cough, his shoulders violently shaking from it. "You shouldn't linger, my dear. Go. Do what you came here to do."

Your vision blurs and you choke back a sob.

"Hosea-"

"Don't. Save your energy.", he interrupts you and a raspy laugh leaves him. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess, but something tells me, that it was intentional."

The older man raises his hand and points towards the cave. "Arthur and John ran through here and probably came out from the other side."

"John? He's alive? Arthur said-"

"He's wounded, but alive." He waves his hand at you, indicating for you to leave. "Now go, my dear."

You hold your fingers together and whistle for Penthesilea. Hosea gives you one last soft smile, before you ride along the path that leads around the cave. There you come across an opening in the ground and follow the sound of battle.

They're far ahead, so you don't expect anyone near you. But you are wrong. Oh and how wrong you are. As you ride up the mountain in full speed, something catapults you forward. Hot, sharp pain shoots through you and you grunt, unable to even scream.

You lower your gaze and your eyes fall on a branch sticking out from your side and you feel sick. Then you look to your right to where your horse is. She's laying there, twitching and producing noises, that break your heart in a thousand pieces. It's hell, crawling up to her, but crawl you did.

With a shuddering breath you press your forehead against her cheek and stroke her neck. A bullet had pierced her stomach and she's losing too much blood too fast. You had hoped for Hosea to be the only goodbye you'd have to go through.

"It's okay, girl.", you whisper, your voice breaking in the process and you stay. You stay with her until she passes away and even after that, you linger.

Your loyal girl is staring right at you, her brown eye slowly losing it's light. Her breath goes ragged, her lungs struggling to take in and push out the air. In these last moments, she's struggling to hold on and all you can do is be there for her, soothe her pain with your voice and touch.

"You've been good to me.", you mumble against her cheek. "Rest now."

The shooter seems to have disappeared. That lucky bastard. You would have made minced meat out of him, given him the slowest possible death to make him pay. With a strained groan, you prop yourself up on your knees and feel the stab wound.

It isn't too deep, so it should be safe to remove. Air fills your lungs, as you wrap your hands around the branch and you tense up your arms, pulling out the damned thing. A loud, guttural scream leaves your throat and you use the ripped off fabric from your skirt to bandage it.

Like a drunkard, you stumble ahead, push forward. One heavy step at the time. Sadie's rifle is long forgotten, lost somewhere in the bushes when you fell off the saddle. Now you're holding your volcanic pistol, gripping it so tightly that the whites of your knuckles are showing.

The sun has long set and the moonlight only barely illuminates the path infront of you. But you walk. You fight. Somehow you make your way to the peak, growing more exhausted by the minute and becoming more dizzy with each breath you take. Each twitch of your muscles is agony and your clothes are drenched with your blood.

This could be your death. A slow one at that. You deserve it after everything you have done, but you refuse to kick the bucket now. Maybe the universe will be so merciful and grant a dying woman her final wish.

You raise your head, seeing two figures fighting up ahead. The moment you open your mouth to shout, they roll over and fall off the cliff. Your heart stops at the sight and you quickly find a way around. As you come closer to your destination, you hear voices talk.

Arthur, Micah...and Dutch? A dry chuckle escapes you. If you're lucky then you get to kill those two bastards as revenge. Grunting and groaning, you support yourself against the cold, rocky wall and stumble over pebbles and your own clumsy feet.

Your heart nearly stops when you get there. Arthur is on the ground, his messy hair matted with blood. It looks like he might have hit his head in a pretty nasty way when he fell off that cliff. As luck might have it, none of the men have noticed you just yet.

"It is over now, Arthur. It's over.", Dutch speak and you blow some loose hair strands out of your face to get a better view.

"I agree.", you snarl and Micah turns around on his heels.

Both of you raise your guns at the same time and two shots cut through the night air. Micah stares at you with wide eyes and slowly falls down on his knees. Your own gun slips out of your hand, as all strength vanishes from your body. With dread you look down on yourself and see another, bigger and darker speck of blood form under your clothes.

I can't catch a fucking break, can I?

Everything is a blur when you make contact with the ground. Arthur screams your name and you look up at the starry sky. It hurts. Your body is hurting all over, but then it stops.

Suddenly you don't feel the pain anymore, nor the small rocks boring into your back underneath you. Instead you feel feather light. A familiar face appears in your vision. Arthur moves his mouth, his eyes staring down at you in horror.

You fool. My fool.

I love you.

Taglist: @shackspossum @abducted-cowz @heloixe @onyxlune

[princessimotep]

Tienes Mi Corazón - Chapter 12

~*~ 18+ Content below. MDNI. Extra warning for Micah being a c*** ~*~

Shady Belle – A hidden jewel within the swamps of Lemoyne. The Van Der Linde gang had been pushed even further East thanks to the looming threat of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. The age of the new world was dawning upon them and yet Dutch still insisted on opposing the dangers striving towards them. Water and oil; a tragic tale of what will never be. A fusion to never co-exist.

Time was running out. Yet Dutch still held onto hope. Still. Was it hope? Or selfishness? Did he truly love the very souls whom he led astray or were they pawns in his game of deceit? In this moment, those questions could not be answered with confidence. There was still time. Time to make amends. It all depended on Dutch and those who stood by his side.

Hosea heavily influenced Dutch in the most mundane yet omnipotent way. Being by Dutch’s side all these years had kept the leader on the right path most of the way. He gave Dutch the wings he needed to fly. The voice he needed to preach. The knowledge to keep those they could alive. The love to keep everyone bonded. Hosea had a particular gift in these sorts of things. He was by no means an angel but human. He understood emotions well, having experienced a lifetime of his own trials and tribulations. The elder gentleman was one folk would go to for advice, the one who they approached without hesitation. Even those who hesitated would find themselves at ease after exchanging conversation.

This golden morning, Hosea decided to make his own approach to the one who perhaps needed his guidance the most.

“How you doing, Miss Miriam?” The doe-eyed woman looked up from her book. Upon seeing Hosea, she gave the man a warm smile, twisting her perched figure which sat on the edge of the stone fountain. She straightened out the creases of her dress, somewhat salvaging a respectable appearance despite the sweat which glossed across her skin. She had never experienced such thick, warm air like this before – much like many of the other camp members. The cold was something she thrived in. Frosty mornings and bitter nights had always been her preference.

“Good morning, Mr Matthews. I’m fine, thank you. And yourself?” He ignored her question. His way of words was always to put another in the spotlight. Selfless and soul searching.

“The heat is pretty unbearable?” A small quirk of her bottom lip caught his eye. It made him smile, knowing he was close to breaking down that barrier. Not that he wished to intrude – he only wanted what was best for each member. If that meant breaking down their barriers to help understand them more, then that was a battle he was willing to slowly win.

“It is really hot here…” Hosea pulled his fingers against the inside of his neck tie in agreement.

“I guess you’re not used to the heat.” His statement made Miriam hesitate. In the end, she shook her head with a small smile. The older gent’s eyes scanned her, piecing her together like some intricate puzzle just waiting to be solved. He had been a good judge of character. He knew there was nothing deviant about the young woman. His mind only wondered why she kept so many secrets. Something as big as her identity. To him, it made sense she had to be someone of importance or someone on the run for doing something bad. Or both.

Taking the opportunity, he pressed. “I suppose the cold is more to your liking?” She nodded. This prompted a chuckle from Hosea, thinking of a passing joke. “Then you would have liked it up in them mountains…” His thoughts trailed off, thinking back to that time of darkness for the gang. Letting his head take over, he subconsciously sat down beside Miriam, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands intertwined to lace his fingers together, his head hanging lower in thought. The silence made Miriam look closer at the man. She could read his eyes – how much hurt he had experienced from the past. The slight remnants of fear which resided within. The young woman understood that ‘the mountains’ were not a good time for anyone. She wished to offer words of comfort but how could she when she knew so little about the situation. About their history. It was not her place to. “You ever been up that way? Past Colter?” A shake of her head made Hosea lift his eyebrow. “Too cold for you?” The comment confused her and without thinking she answered.

“No. I love the cold. It’s just been a little too far West for me- the snow that is.” Placing the pieces together quickly in his mind, Hosea effortlessly chimed in leaving her little time to think.

“So East?” Miriam’s eyes opened wide in disturbance. A pause was set between his voice and her own.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re from the East then.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Goosebumps prickled over the skin of her arms. Her worry became evident to Hosea. He too could read people, just like her. He could do it perhaps a little too well. His eyes shifted down to the ground, not wanting his gaze to cause her any alarm. “I know the country well, Miriam. There are only a few places around here that accommodate to your preferred climate.” She felt herself becoming flustered. She could not allow herself to let him see it so she looked over her shoulder towards the marshy waters. Her eyes searched for something in particular to focus on but her worries made the task difficult. Miriam’s silence spoke a thousand words. Clouds which encased her were gradually starting to part; not without challenge. Thunder flashed through those clouds. Before that mysterious haze could ever clear, the storm would have to present itself. Only then would the suffocation of her secrets could be lifted at last.

Flickering his eyes to her hands, Hosea focused on the book she had been reading prior. He recognised the book cover and the intriguing engravings on the spine of it. “I’ve read that one.” The heat from her head dissipated once she turned her head back to her company. It took her a few seconds to realise what Hosea was referring to. The book offered her so much comfort, therefore a smile was always a response to its very memory.

“It’s my favourite.”

“I’ve noticed.” He stared down at the pages, a coy look present on his face. “You must know the book well if you’re reading it in Spanish.” As quickly as it went, the heat reappeared but this time across her cheeks. Dryly, she swallowed, hoping she could blame her reaction on the heat of the bayou. Hosea was not stupid. There was an aura of omniscience which surrounded him, nothing ever able to get past him. It was down to his caring nature. The want to help people do better and be their best selves. Honest and free.

Unable to fight her nerves, Miriam went to stand and close her book but Hosea’s hand went to her shoulder to stop her. “No – no – no. Please.” His free hand offered her old seat back, inviting her to stay just a little longer. His tone of voice proved to her he meant no harm. She accepted, denying her own departure. Not being too knowledgeable on the language, Hosea referred to the page the book was currently open on. “Which part of the story are you on?”

Breathing calmly through her nose, she settled back into the comfort of her book to accept its embrace. “When the Knight tells the Princess how he truly feels.” Her cheeks darkened yet somehow a smile persevered through to support her words. “You know, at the end?” Hosea nods.

“Ah yes, yes.” He leant over her, scanning over the Spanish text. Despite not knowing the language, he believed he could find the part he wished to enlighten. “The part where he says… ah! Here it is…” His brows furrowed as he attempted to read the foreign words. “Tienes… mi… corazón.” Hosea lifted his head, looking at Miriam with a smile of delicate purity and warmth. “You have my heart.”

“You have my heart.” Miriam repeated in acknowledgement. The Knight saying this to his Princess had always starstruck the young woman. She had wondered evermore what it would feel like to have someone confess their feelings like that. It was truly beautiful to her. To tell someone that they no longer own their heart because it had been claimed by their true love – it was words of poetry which came from the soul. To be so selfless to another. To love them so much you could trust them with something which could be broken so easily. One crunch of their hand could shatter the organ to shake their realm of reality. Such trust was so hard to come by. Although the very thought of having this much faith in someone was deemed as beautiful to her – it also scared her and to Miriam, there was something magical about that.

Observing the peaceful look of wonder which portraited her face, Hosea’s expression softened as he knew that look all too well. A look of yearning which he once held for Bessie. “And what a powerful thing to say to someone.” His eyes looked up to the morning sky, watching a pair of larks which flew over in blissful glee. “It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from – anyone can feel that moment of power. Only if they allow themselves to.” He turned his head and his eyes locked with Miriam’s who was intrigued by what he was saying. “Love holds no judgement, Miriam. Some would say it is the most powerful force on earth.” His words rattled her yet her heart thumped against her chest in a way which lulled her; as if it was telling her to listen. She shook her head.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, Mr Matthews.”

“Miriam.” He called her name firmly to silence her. The both of them knew very well what he was insinuating. “It takes a lot to completely destroy love. Sure – someone’s past may cause a few cracks, or – what they once did could hurt – but if that person also trusts you with their heart, then there is nothing to be scared of.” His words moved her. She could not deny the truth in which he spoke yet ever the same, her fear of rejection held her back. Shaking her head, she tried to search his eyes for an answer.

“But how would I know-”

“You won’t know unless you tell them.” Their conversation felt almost hypothetical yet underneath the mystery, they both knew who and what they were talking about. His answer held a double meaning. To tell Javier how she really felt… it also meant telling him the truth. Just like Sadie had once told her.

The thunder within her mind had stopped. Clouds were beginning to clear away and now, all that was left was her thoughts. Her head felt light, no longer heavy to the burden of what she must do. In a way; she felt ready.

It was time.

Seeing Hosea stand up from the fountain made Miriam mouth a quiet thank you to the older man. Hosea acknowledged this but being the man he was, he didn’t wish to pry and make her feel in debt. He brushed it away; another selfless act on his part. He had never once changed; always the man who wished to help others. Even as he began to walk away, he couldn’t help but pass by a comment to help encourage her that her past wasn’t as scary as it seemed.

“I hear Annesburg is lovely this time of year. Especially a little further up North-East from it.” He looked over his shoulder at Miriam. But before she could react, she read his expression which soothed her. In quiet understanding, she knew by the way he spoke and the look he gave her that he wouldn’t utter a word to no one. He knew.

A smile was left behind on her lips.

‘Thank you, Hosea…’

Night had claimed the land fast that day, much to the appreciation of the people. It had been the hottest day of the year thus far, so the night’s cooler air was welcomed with open arms. The clinch of coolness wasn’t the only thing which was welcomed that night.

After Dutch, Arthur and John had met with Angelo Bronte, their return to camp had to be celebrated – Jack had come back safe and sound.

Cheers and laughter encircled the campfire as Javier sung to the strumming of his guitar. A talent he possessed – not just the way he played or sang but his ability to bring his fellow camp members together. He was the glue which bound everyone together, almost completely unbreakable. How Miriam admired that part about him. Looking from afar, she watched him joyously express himself through the lyrics of his song, the others chiming into the chorus with theatrical delight. It made her heart swell to see how together everyone was. It was the happiest she had seen them all.

She wished she was nearer to Javier but she held herself back, wanting him to be with his family. After all, it was a bond she never wanted him to break – only solidify further. Even throughout the day, she had kept her distance from him; ever since her conversation with Hosea. She wanted to figure out the right words to say to him; it had taken her what felt like an eternity to figure out, but she knew she had to do this. Not just for herself, but for him. Javier deserved to know the truth. He had been so good to her.

He found her at her most vulnerable. Took her into the safety of the gang. Explored the Heartlands with her – he even took a bullet for her. Part of her really wanted to know how he felt about her before she could confess everything, however her need to be honest and give her heart to him was stronger. He had asked for her trust and that was what she wanted to give him. Her full, undying trust. No matter how frightening the thought of it was.

She loved him.

The very thought made her heart bubble in her chest like lava waiting to erupt. In the past she tried to push those feelings aside, in fear of the hurt it may cause, but now it invaded her entirely. It was undeniable and inescapable. The chains which encased her had finally rotted enough to the point she could finally break free. All she needed to do was try. And Javier deserved that at the very least.

Leaving the coolness of the night’s air, Miriam retreated back inside the walls of the house which stood strong in the middle of camp. Closing the door behind her, she leant against the wood to take slow, deep breaths. She knew the moment was close. Tauntingly close. Even now she struggled to think of a strong opening line to start this chaotic and somewhat dangerous confession. Knowing the gist of the conversation was easy, but as for what to exactly say – this was unclear. Trying her best to snap out it, Miriam walked through the hallway and into one of the rooms where a mirror hung on the wall. Cautiously she approached it, as if one wrong step could cause it to fall to the ground. That was the last thing she needed – seven years of bad luck. A superstition she most definitely believed in, perhaps even more so after Molly’s pocket mirror broke. Since then, it seemed the poor woman had never gotten a break. She would sometimes see Molly on the outskirts of camp, looking out into the wilderness, mumbling incoherent things about Dutch. It broke Miriam’s heart to see her this way. She had attempted to talk things out with Molly, but she pushed the woman away. She did not want anyone’s company other than Dutch’s; which was something he could not give her.

Looking into the mirror, Miriam’s reflection shone back at her through distorted cracks. The cracks were like veins which jaggedly etched their way along the centre to the corners of the frame. Subconsciously, she brought a hand to her hair, stroking down the fly aways. How humbled she felt about her appearance. Javier was strikingly handsome to look at, yet she felt the complete opposite about herself. She found it comical the idea of Javier finding her as attractive as she found him. In her irrational mind, there was just no way. She sighed, hopelessly. Yet her eyes wandered to the dress she was wearing.

After all this time, she had finally finished weaving together the dress she started making back in Horseshoe Overlook. Despite Javier’s kindness in buying her the dresses back in Strawberry, Miriam felt it a waste to abandon her project. The dress was made from silky, scarlet fabric which was made to fit her exact measurements. It held no long sleeves but her shoulders were crowned with the smallest black ruffles. The neck line had shaped a most magnificent V-shape which complimented her décolletage. Following the waist line down, the ruche of the skirt had been pinned up to create a gothic-style waterfall effect on the sides and through the opening of the outer skirt, black lace fell to the ground as the underskirt. The dress created a feeling of pride which was new to the young woman. She wanted this to be the dress. The dress she would confess to Javier in. It made her feel empowered yet vulnerable and that was something she felt fascinated by.

“My, my. Don’t you look pretty in that getup.” A chill ran down her spine, recognising that voice. Miriam whipped her head over her shoulder, fast enough to cause a couple strands of locks to fall from her clipped-up hair. Micah stood in the doorway, leaning lazily against the wooden frame. He shifted his weight so he now stood straight, ready to approach. “Who’re you getting’ dolled up for, I wonder…” Not wanting to give him the time of day, she stayed silent. She knew all too well that people like him craved responses. Tauntingly, he stepped towards her which immediately caused Miriam to fully turn to face him to stand her ground. Much like the time back in the cabin, where she was cornered by the O’Driscolls.

The clicks of Micah’s boots echoed through the room like the sound of a ticking clock. Her shoulders tensed but never once did she break eye contact from him. He stopped walking once he was a couple metres away from her, wanting her to fall into a false sense of safety. One thing was certain – being alone in a room with Micah Bell was never something safe and she was smart enough to know this.

A snicker trickled past his lips, holding out his hands to gesture inwardly to himself. “Is this all for me?” A look of disgust shadowed over Miriam’s face. If only a look could really kill someone, he would be nothing more than a corpse before her. Clenching her jaw, Miriam remained composed before the serpent, still having no intention of giving in to his sick game. Micah tilted his head with his mouth slightly agape, soaking in her defensive state. That scowl she held for him… he found it utterly delicious. “Let’s take a good look at you…”

Before she could react, his hand grasped her jaw, the tips of his fingers pinching into the skin of her cheeks. In defiance she tried to shake herself from his grip by snapping her head to the side but he only squeezed her face tighter to make her heel. Not wanting to be permanently injured by his hand, she stilled, keeping her gaze away. His breathing was heavy, like he was fighting for crystal clear air. The smell of her was almost too intoxicating for him to handle. His eyes scanned over her features, looking at the shade of her glossy lips to the colour of her eyes and sighing in bliss when she would batt those pretty lashes which each blink. The grip of his hand loosened just slightly so he could angle his thumb up towards her waterline where black kohl had been carefully pencilled across. Wanting to taint the remarkable portrait before him, his thumb brushed across the bottom of her eye to smear the black eyeliner down past her outer corners. He snickered at the art he had just created.

Now she looked fragile – as though she had been crying.

“Ain’t you just… pretty.” He licked the top of his lip, his warm breath coming through his nose like a bull in heat. “Nasty little thing, dressin’ up for ol’ Micah…” His thumb went back to the start of her waterline to once again follow along, but this time, he dragged his digit downwards once he reached the middle. A smoky smear fell to the apple of her cheek. His thumb was rough and he had pressed hard, causing a streak of faint redness to appear behind the ashy smears. How appetising she looked like this. Like a forbidden fruit he so desperately wanted to take a bite from. Being so close to her, a couple strings of breathy laughter escaped him. He found it funny. The joke of it all; how easy it would be to take her right now whilst everyone was occupied outside.

The fantasy of her crying for help whilst all the other gang members would be nonchalantly celebrating, not able to hear her pleas at all. It was the perfect opportunity. Quickly, his mind pieced together a delectable scenario. He’d smash the back of her head against the mirror, just so show her how much fun he can be. Then he’d throw her like a little dolly onto the cold wooden floor before taking her from behind. Oh, how the sounds of her dress being ripped apart would stiffen his cock. He would be entertained for a long while…

His smirk disappeared at his next intruding thought. ‘Unless he interferes…’ Anger flashed across Micah’s face which resulted in his hand clasping round her jaw again and this time, forcing her to look at him. “Or is this all for that fucking greaser, hm?” Now it was Miriam’s turn to see red. Without even a second thought, she pursed her lips before releasing them to spit into Micah’s face. The action was so sudden it took him a back, making him let go of her in the process. She took her chance to escape and bolted through the doorway and towards the grand doors which would lead her outside. He didn’t attempt to chase after her, instead using his preferred tactic to hunt his prey – threats.

“If you don’t come back here… I’ll fucking destroy your world. I know who you are.” Gritting his teeth, he walked towards the doorframe once he wiped the spit from his eyes. “And what you did.” He stopped once he was back in the doorway. This time he had his fists held tightly in a ball and his posture was hunch over, as if ready to charge at her. “If you walk out that door, I’ll tell your little greaser everything.” She could no longer ignore what he had to say. It enraged her the way he spoke about Javier like he was some form of weapon to be used against her, calling him those horrible derogatory names. Silence was no longer an option.

Snapping her head over her shoulder, she hissed her words. “You won’t have chance. I’ll be telling him tonight.” Her surge of confidence caught Micah off guard. She had a mean bite to her and it replaced his anger with excitement.

“Oh, really now?” For the last time, she turned around to fully face him.

“Yes. You have no power over me, Micah.” It sent chills over his body the way she snarled out his name. If he played his cards right, he could still make the world around her crumble. Micah had always had a sick desire to see beauty decay. It was the most natural form of art to him.

Micah held his hands up, as if to surrender. “Oh, ho. You got me there, sweetheart…” His tone of voice leered over her, spookily, like he knew something she did not. “I’m just thinking about that Mexican’s wellbeing is all.” Her eyebrows knitted closer together, confused by his change of heart. He smirked, knowing his new tactic was working. He took a step towards her, his hands still raised in sweet surrender. “It would be such a… shame… to see him – burdened with such knowledge.” Now he took a couple more steps closer, almost halfway across the landing. Slowly, Miriam’s eyebrows softened as though she could see her victory being taken away before her very eyes.

“… a burden?” Micah stopped himself from grinning. ‘Jackpot.’ He thought to himself. He knew very well which direction to take this conversation.

“Of course. I mean, when I discovered what you were, well… I was shocked. And that’s puttin’ it lightly- I mean…” Micah lowered his hands. His tone changed. “… ya did some real nasty things after all.” The young woman flinched at his words. “What you did… oof-” The blonde dropped his head momentarily, only to raise it slowly to look at her through his messy strands of hair which cascaded over his brows. “No normal person could ever look at ya the same way ever again.” Her blood turned cold at the horrifying thought. It felt unbearable, the idea of Javier shunning her away after discovering her past. She felt her eyes begin to sting with tears but she refused to let them fall, especially in front of Micah. Such a sight could not slip past Micah. Those tears which threatened to spill only fuelled him further. His hands hovered over her shoulders but he didn’t dare to touch.

“Sweetheart… I know it’s hard.” He didn’t have the faintest idea. “Ya just gotta understand… that greaser had his family and friends drop like flies, one by one. Murdered in front of him… so…” Micah tauntingly tilted his head side to side, as though he was weighing the options of what to say. “… it only makes sense he wouldn’t react well to what ya did. He’d hate you.” Her blood felt as though it were ice. For a moment, it felt impossible for her to breathe. Micah’s words made perfect sense. She convinced herself then and there that she had gaslighted herself into thinking that everything would be okay. Of course, there was no way Javier would be able to look past the things she did.

Not wanting to spend another second in Micah’s presence, she went to open the door but Micah’s hand held onto her wrist to pause her action. “Oi.” He growled, bringing her close into his chest. The dark-haired beauty frowned, still fighting the sting of her eyes. He lifted his hand and instead of grabbing her jaw again like last time, he curled his index finger and softly petted it over her cheek. “Don’t ya worry, doll. Ol’ Micah will be here to pick up the pieces.” He leant close to her face, his lips just a couple centimetres away from her own. “If ya tell him.” And just like that, he released her and she immediately ran out, slamming the doors in his face.

Her feet pattered down the steps and across the grass until she could find shelter under the gazebo, just a little away from the camp’s celebrations. She tried to calm her breathing although not a sound of it could be heard due to the rambunctious singing from both Uncle and Pearson. Even Arthur could be heard trying to join in, carefully trying to not slur his words due to the amount of whiskey he had consumed.

Looking to her hands, the young woman realised the shake that now rocked them uncontrollably. Her ears burned hot; her throat too dry to be able to swallow. Attempting to steady herself, Miriam’s hands rested on the pale wood of the banister and sank her head low to calm her rhythm of breaths once she wiped away her ruined eyeliner.

She knew Micah was not to be trusted; his words were a sorcery of evil. Malice was something he thrived to express. He was like a disease, persisting to take over and destroy something once good from the inside out. Yet those very words he spoke only awakened Miriam’s once buried paranoia. Just as she had at last calmed herself into thinking her past could not break the bond she shared with Javier, a threat loomed in its grand return to make her back down. Deep down, she still wanted to tell Javier the truth. Uneasiness plagued her at the scenario.

What if…

What if Micah spoke honesty, no matter how hurtful it came out? Would it be a burden for Javier? Would he…

‘Would he hate me?’ She bit the inside of her cheek; the taste of iron spilling in slow droplets down her throat. Would he or wouldn’t he. A riddle she could not solve. It was a gamble. A leap of faith.

Being so lost in her troubled thoughts, she had barely noticed the familiar presence behind her whose hands rested on the plumps of her hips. “Hola, hermosa ángel.” Regardless of her agonising thoughts, Miriam couldn’t help but melt under his touch. She breathed out his name, savouring it as though it was the last time she would ever be able to say it.

His hands stroked her hips a couple times, like he was soothing her for something he wasn’t quite aware of in that moment. With a feather-like touch, Javier’s hands slid over the peaks of her hips to take their place over her belly. The feeling was welcomed for it offered a warmth she did not mind faltering to. His chin rested over her shoulder which allowed Miriam to smell the whiskey and cigarettes that came from his long breaths. It was a smell she found appetizing and often salivated for during steamy exchanges.

“I haven’t seen you all day…” He mumbled, now turning into her neck to smell the gorgeously scented perfume which he found suited her and only her. A scent of lavender and powdery notes. Miriam pressed her back against his chest to allow him to fully hold her. His eyes were shut with the lightest of smiles, appreciating the tender fragment of time that stood still for their sake. A snapshot of gentle peace.

“I was… lost in thought, today.” He hummed at her response, finding it an acceptable answer for the time being. The tips of her fingers lightly traced over the knuckles of his hands. Even now, her thoughts troubled her deeply – yet his aura soothed her, preventing her from breaking down to the corruption Micah had caused. “I- My mind has been all over the place. I’m sorry.” A low rumble came from Javier’s throat in an understanding chuckle.

“Mine too.” His hands snaked past one another, tightening his embrace. His cheek pressed against the length of Miriam’s neck where his lips dusted across her skin in a sweet whisper. “I can’t get you off my mind, mi amor.” His lips and facial hair tickled her skin, causing her to momentarily break away from her intrusive thoughts in soft laughter.

“You’ve been drinking.” Turning her head to try and look at his expression, she could see his cheeks were slightly glazed with a pigment of rosiness. His eyes held a mist of heavenly delight, finding all things around him pleasant. Not denying her words, he raised the depths of his focus by looking into her dark hazel eyes.

“I speak only the truth.” His eyes closed lazily to fall into a blissful realm, allowing his lips to dance across her jawline and then the corner of her neck, underneath her ear. “Mi amor…” He whispered this line over and over again with each feathery kiss. Goosebumps responded back to him, giving in to the enchantment he cast over her. She held onto his arms to keep her from stumbling, bending at the knees as though she was becoming limp like a doll held by its owner. “Look at me.”

Javier loosened his hold on her so she could eventually turn around to face him. There were things he wanted to tell her which had been occupying him all throughout the day. Perhaps longer. Delving into the wondrous pools of her iris, he felt his chest seize for a brief moment. It amazed him how this woman standing before him had such a hold over his mind, body and feelings. Never in his twenty-six years of being on this earth had he felt this way before. It was foreign, shrouded in mystery; nonetheless a hold he never wanted to let go.

“Listen.” Javier stepped back from her, tilting his head down to the ground and raising his hands in front of him as though halting any attempt to interrupt him. “I’ve been thinking- I’ve been thinking, a lot… and…” He lifted his head and in doing so he placed his hands on his hips before rapidly flickering his thumb over the tip of his nose to brush off the last bits of nerves that had held him back before now. “You and I- We… I think…” He stopped himself.

The way she looked at him. It captivated him. She without a doubt took his breath away; without even trying. Her mere existence was enough to shake the ever-winding staircase of his reality. She had always captivated him. Ever since he first looked at her within that cabin. A short exhale of realisation escaped him.

“I think we’re good together.” He said it so matter of a fact, that his awkwardness had successfully been disguised by his liquid courage.

Miriam’s eyes became wide with surprise, not expecting him to say such things. She kept quiet, unable to find the right words to say. Javier stroked the back of his neck, not knowing how he made it this far. However, he understood that he had to finish what he had started. “I mean, only if you want that too.” Now the Mexican found himself second guessing how he approached his words. He wanted to continue to plead his case because of course, she was someone whom he wanted to fight for. “Look-” He stepped towards her; his hands now being held out to gesture with each word that needed visual guidance. “What I mean to say is- I don’t care about what you did, who you are or where you came from. None of that matters.” Miriam’s eyebrows furrowed upwards, her mouth becoming agape – not believing what he was saying. Javier’s hand held onto hers. His fingers squeezed tight to the following words. “I want you. Only you.” With his free hand, he gently placed his palm over her heated cheek. “Just as you are.” The words he uttered cut through her like a welcomed wound. A wound which hurt but distracted her from her anxious thoughts. He made her heart bleed with sweet sorrow.

She wanted him too. To Miriam, Javier deserved the world and more.

Pursing her lips together, Miriam tightly closed her eyes to lean into the hand which held her cheek. He was so warm, like the water of a hot spring steaming against ice cold skin. “Javier…” Bringing her hand to his own, she pulled it down from her cheek. “I’m not the woman you think I am…” A pause of hesitancy followed before she let go of his hands to hold her own. Javier looked at her with hurt in his eyes, as though he had been shot through his chest. It pained her to do this, but the taunt of Micah’s words could not allow her to let her walls fall apart. She allowed him to have her heart, but she could not do the same for him. She feared so much that his heart would die by her tainted touch. Her bottom lip quivered before she looked at him with tearful eyes. She could barely choke out her words. “But I wish I was. I truly do.”

Javier averted his eyes from her. For the first time, he did not know what to do. All he could do was look at to her, almost in disbelief. With all his strength, he set his hurt aside and tried to reach through to her. “Miriam…” He made a promise to himself. “Eres tan estupida…” (“You’re so stupid…”)

A promise that he would fight for her.

Both of Javier’s hands held onto her face to bring her back to this dimension. “¿Cuántas veces tengo que decírtelo?” (“How many times do I have to tell you?”) Her watery eyes blurred her vision yet she could still see the intense look of truth he emitted. “I don’t care.” A smile returned to his face, his sharp gaze softening. “I don’t care, Miriam.” He frowned yet his smile remained. “Don’t you remember?” Before she could respond to his question, Javier pulled on her hand so she would follow him.

They left the shelter of the gazebo, walking just outside of Shady Belle by the water yet remained concealed by the trees and greenery. They couldn’t wander too far due to the main road only being just up ahead. Once Javier stopped, he pointed up to the night sky. The galaxy of stars twinkled back in response, shining through the grey clouds which surrounded the moon. “You remember, don’t you?”

The organ within her chest tightened at the memory of those beautiful words. Without saying anything, she nodded. But he wanted more. He wanted her to fight back – to succumb to the feelings they both could not deny. “Then say them.” Her eyes tightly closed, her lips pursing back together.

She could not bring herself to say those words.

Javier held onto her waist, bringing her towards him so their hips met one another. “Say them to me, mi amor.” Their foreheads touched, his eyes trying to find hers through her thick lashes – still her irises were averted from his.

He deserved the truth.

His fingers tightened on her waist. His whispers became more soaked with passion. “I need to know.”

And the truth is what she wished to give.

“Javier… Tienes mi corazón.” Those words ripped through him like a rainfall of bullets. He pulled his head back, looking at her with shock. At last, he could see her alluring cocoa eyes. Her hand went to her chest as if to soothe the pain and ache she felt there. “Tienes mi corazón, Javier.” Her tears spilt down her cheeks, uncontrollably. Her walls had fallen to dust thanks to him. She felt exposed and vulnerable. And she was so grateful. Somehow her revelation made her feel lifted; unafraid. “And it will always be yours.”

No longer did a barrier stand between the two thus the only thing to be done was to fall into each other’s reality. He claimed her lips with his own, not caring that it sucked the air from her. He could not help himself after she had told him such euphoric words. Never did he think he would hear her say those words to him, especially in his language. Those three words spoke a million tales, matching up to each star that dotted the galactic sky. His reaction made Miriam cry more, the lump in her throat becoming so painful she could barely breathe. To others it would seem as though she was in pain. Forlorn and distressed. But the two of them knew that it was an articulation of happiness and that was all that mattered.

Miriam fought for air but was unable to win due to Javier’s hand holding onto the back of her head, pushing her further against his mouth. His tongue tangled around hers, barely allowing room for her to inhale. A meagre jolt of panic naturally took over her yet her own body betrayed her, keeping her pinned into his strong embrace. Colourful spots sparkled behind her closed eyes, signalling her impending downfall. She murmured his name against his mouth, revealing her desperation.

Not wanting her to pass out, just yet, he pulled his lips from her and watched the saliva slip over the centre of her bottom lip. Perilously she gasped out for air but was immediately silenced by his lips. She squirmed in ecstatic delight. The very thought of seeing stars just by him kissing her sent waves of paradise towards her core. She trusted this man to do whatever he wanted, knowing he never would have an inkling if ill malice. Her hands ran through his hair, unconsciously pulling away the band which held his hair back. His velvet ebony locks touched his shoulders where his blue waistcoat hugged against the white fabric of his blouse.

“Tienes mi corazón…” She whispered against his lips, repeating those words he found so beautiful. His hand clenched, grabbing a fistful of her hair. She mewled in contentment at the rough action.

“Mierda…” He grumbled, the tightening feeling of jeans around his groin which became uncomfortable all too quickly. The way she said those words, it was driving him fucking crazy. Pulling the clip that held her hair back, her mermaid-like waves fell past her shoulders like unravelled silk. All those feelings which held him back before, those chains no longer claimed him. Instead, he was finally free to do as he desired. No restraints or second thoughts. Only what felt right to both himself and her.

Javier’s hands grabbed Miriam’s ass, crunching together the carefully woven fabric she had seamed and lifted her without warning. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist where her bare pussy caught his jeans just right, the tent of the fabric rubbing against her clit. The skirt of her dress covered the sight, but underneath, it was a vision to behold – one Javier could feel. The roughness of his jeans caused a friction which made her hips buck involuntarily. The sharp sparks of pleasure which flew through her like flashes of lightning made Miriam throw her head back, leaning her weight away from him so her hips had no choice but to force themselves harder against his concealed yet prominent cock. It didn’t take long for her slick to begin coating his jeans, as if her pussy was begging skin on skin contact. Without shame, Miriam bobbed her hips up and down the tiniest amount to rub her clit over the point of his jeans. Due to the ridged nature of his jeans, her clit became instantly swollen, enjoying the friction more than she imagined she would. Her wetness rapidly dampened the fabric and with aid was soaked further by his leaking tip. The thought of his precum seeping through to invade her pussy made her eyes roll back to see the stars.

The feeling of her hips rocking against his erection made Javier open his mouth to invite in the cool air in hopes it would help him re-centre himself – to stop him from fucking her so furiously that she would surely lose consciousness. Yet he reminded himself that all restraints were to be forgotten about. Just for this night at least. He wrapped an arm around her upper back and knelt down to the ground to place her on the grass, all the while keeping their hips connected like this. Her hips were raised, angled upwards over his thighs and he kept her like this so he could unzip his jeans to pull out his aching cock. In doing so, his fingers brushed over the area of his pants where their liquids seeped through. With the tip of his middle finger and thumb, he brought them up to his face and rubbed the slick together before retracting his middle finger away to watch the string of clear fluid stretch.

“Mi amor… if you keep doing things like this, I won’t be able to stop myself.” Through her flushed pants, she quizzed her lover.

“Stop yourself from what?” Innocently she blinked which caused Javier to arch over her, pressing his leaking head inside of her without warning. Not giving her a single chance to adjust, Miriam’s head fell back so her forehead was inches away from meeting the grass. Keeping her hips angled up towards the sky, Javier pressed a kiss to her exposed throat, growling against her skin.

“Fucking you until you’re full of my cum, mi amor.” The walls of her pussy clenched hard around the tip of his cock, milking him in response to his words. The two of them gasped in symmetry at the rapturous feeling. The tightness of her heat made it difficult to sheathe himself fully inside but once he did, he hung his head low between his shoulders, panting. His fingers dug into the earth to ground himself whilst Miriam tried her best not to make any sudden movements, still recovering from the brief moment of sheer bliss.

Soon, a laughter that was barely audible came from Javier. He lifted his head, looking through the messy strands of his hair to address his love. “You like the idea of that, hm?” With eagerness in her movements, she nodded her head to him; the memory of him almost coming inside her dancing around rent free in her head. She could still remember how hot the heat of his cum felt inside, even if it was only a drop. Her pussy spasmed again, wishing to be filled this time instead of it being wasted on her lower abdomen. He grunted, pulling his cock back until he was almost fully free from her.

Keeping the tip of his cock lined at her entrance, Javier pulled her thighs up and folded them back so her knees came to a beautiful bend. Her shoes slipped off her feet so her heels pressed into the rounds of her ass. He let go of her plump skin, watching her dress skirt pool around her chest – the sight of her pulsing pussy now on full view. That and her big doe eyes all tearful from sinful want, were a picture of perfection to the Mexican rebel. His hands traced over her knees, pushing them further apart before planting a kiss to one of them. He raised himself a little higher on his knees to get his angle right and once he was there, he slammed his cock deep and hard into her pussy; reaching depths Miriam didn’t even know was possible. The earth surrounding Miriam’s head sank lower, being pressed with great force by the back of her skull. A noise had left her mouth she didn’t even know could ever be recreated even if she tried. That very noise made her lover see red and repeated the violent snap of his hips over and over, earning a unique and satisfying moan from her each time.

The head of his cock abused her insides, forcing her heat to overflow with more of her slick in a pathetic attempt to soothe the overstimulation which was being invoked. Her head was dizzy, unable to think rationally whilst he pounded into her pussy like she was just some tight hole for him to let his frustrations out on. “Oh my God… Javier! Javier!” Her sanity was long gone, no care being present to fear what others might hear. She felt his hands pull harder on her knees, bringing her hips impossibly closer to his own; Miriam became a babbling mess. He hit depths within her that shot fiery sparks of gunpowder through her core all the way to her head. Her toes curled, bracing herself for his ruthlessness that would undoubtedly continue.

Already, her pussy squeezed his cock, ready to deliver its final chokehold. Javier placed an elbow and hand beside her head whilst the other rested in the same manner but above her head. Not once did his unforgiving thrusts change in pace. “Mi amor- Ah! Miriam…” His voice was quiet through the loudness of his grunts, yet as though the elements of nature respected their moment of union, Miriam heard him clear as day. “Te amo.”

‘Those words…’

She hiccupped, feeling the swell of her heart become unbearable. Javier kissed her forehead. “Te amo… te amo…” He never stopped saying those words. With every thrust, every pant and groan, he cooed those words to her. He would say it as many times as it took for her to finally understand. She felt her head ache, still unable to stop herself from crying. All she could do was place her hand on his cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth.

Even then, he still did not stop.

‘He loves me…’ The happiest smile she had ever conjured in her entire lifetime graced her features. ‘He really loves me…’

Being close to his release, Javier shuddered, his head falling lower to try and stop himself. He could feel she was close too. She could tell by his silence he was trying hard not to give in, selflessly wanting her to come before he did – yet each time it risked him coming inside. Breaking his concentration, Miriam brought her lips to his ear, begging him in a sultry voice.

“Please, come inside-ah! Javier! Please…” Miriam raised both her shoulders in a euphoric high, knighting each side of his face as his forehead now came into contact with the bottom of her throat. His nails scratched hard at the dirt, whilst her own snaked under his arms and latched onto his shoulder blades. Her nails pierced in through the fabric of his waistcoat, not realising she was in fact drawing blood. Even Javier couldn’t feel it, due to the feeling of his cock pulsating inside her becoming overwhelming. “Please…” She lowered the volume of her voice but kept a higher pitch than normal – something she naturally did when she wanted something bad. “Javier… I want you to come inside me. Make me yours.”

Like a cryptic code being cracked, it unlocked the shackles which bound him. A second wind of energy eloped through his body like an untameable hurricane. The rhythm of his hips became faster, more ruthless with no remanets of gentleness. He wanted nothing more in that moment than for her wishes to be granted. And for his own – to have her as his – whole and complete. Sweat glossed down the muscles of his back, sticking to his garments which caused an imaginary suffocation as his climax overcame him, spurting his hot cum inside her weeping pussy. He pressed his hips hard into her and stayed like that, as if his only goal was to make sure her womb became full of his fertile seed. Upon the first contact of his cum, her pussy clenched and pulsed around his length, milking each and every drop as Miriam experienced her own ascension. His cum felt excruciatingly hot but it only heightened her senses and made her journey to paradise all the more heavenly.

The feeling of her taking all of him so receptively was something he cursed himself for not experiencing sooner. He didn’t want the moment to end – even during the peak of his high, he slipped his hand between her thighs to rub his thumb over her clit in circles. The elation she felt from his unexpected action made Miriam snap her hips into his, forcing his cock deeper creating more room for his cum to splurge through. The overstimulation made the young woman shake violently, her pussy now refusing to release her hold on his cock. Javier groaned loud into her throat, the noise emanating from deep within.

Finally, with the last few rocks of his hips, he pulled his cock from inside her, the spoils of his climax spilling out with the friction of his length. Once he had fully unsheathed himself, due to her hips being pointed at a high angle, any droplets of cum which surrounded the circumference of her heat fell back inside. The sight of her cum-filled pussy made Javier’s cock twitch, threatening to become hard again. Her puffy cunt pulsed, drinking back every last drop until it was deep inside her warm cavern.

Attempting to wipe away her tears, the mundane fidgeting caught Javier’s attention, him only now realising just how badly she had been crying. Once he tucked himself away, he leant over her to brush his thumb over her watery cheeks.

“Hey…” He cooed. He thought her tears were a product of their love-making but seeing her continue spill them made the man feel genuine concern. A flash of hurt sparkled across his coffee-coloured eyes as she scrunched her nose and tried her best to wipe away anymore tears that were left behind. “Did I hurt you?” A crackle of laughter bubbled past her lips, shaking her head to him.

“No.”

“Then why are you crying?” That wide, close-eyed smile returned once more and this time he was there to witness her expression of joy.

“I’m… I’m just so happy.” A charming look graced Javier’s features.

“Yeah?” Miriam nodded, humming her confirmation. He closed his eyes in contentment. “Me too, mi amor.” Javier lifted her own delicate hand towards his face. With a look of faraway dreams, he placed the softest of kisses against her fingers. To finally hear her speak such honeyed words to him and he in return at long last came to terms with his deep-rooted feelings he held for her – the shadows within his mind felt less dark than before. His demons had been blinded by her luminescent light.

He couldn’t help but consider if she was an angel sent by God. Or a Saint sent to guide him through the darkness that threatened to take over.

Whoever she was, or whomever had sent her, he knew he had to appreciate every waking second with her. Time threatened all beings.

He vowed silently, on that warm summer’s night, that he would devote himself to her and strive for a life where they could be free.

Together.

Previous Chapter

[positivexcellence]

Walker Boss, Jared Padalecki on Series Finale’s Surprise Cameo, Cordell and Geri’s [Spoiler], More Season 5 Plans

Walker wrapped up its four-season run on Wednesday with the introduction of a surprising but familiar face as Cordell’s new neighbor: James Van Der Beek!

The Dawson’s Creek vet appeared in the show’s final seconds, dressed in all white, with a smile on his face and a gift of soaps for the Walkers. But don’t let his jovial demeanor fool you: Van Der Beek’s character was set to stir up drama on the Davidson property next door as… a cult leader, showrunner Anna Fricke reveals in the following Q&A.

Talking about the casting, star/executive producer Jared Padalecki tells TVLine that Van Der Beek is “a personal friend.”

“He lives here in Austin, and he and his family are friends of me and my family, and so, it was kind of a phone call. I was like, ‘Hey, dude, you want to come do this?'” Padalecki recalls. When he then mentioned Fricke’s name — the showrunner got her start on Dawson’s Creek — Van Der Beek was on board.

“He came over, and just drove from his house and brought one of his daughters, and did it,” Padalecki shares. “We were really excited to explore that storyline.”

Elsewhere in the series finale: Cordell took a leave of absence from the Rangers to spend time with Geri and his kids, and as he readied to hit the road with them, he pocketed a ring box! Despite thinking she botched her interview, Cassie beat out Trey for the lieutenant position. Meanwhile, Liam and Ben decided to move in together, then Liam got a phone call from the governor, asking for his help, after which a black SUV picked him up.

On the kid front, August graduated high school, and Geri made Sadie and Stella a business proposal. Finally, Bonham and Abeline came to an understanding about the event business — she just wants to oversee things, and he suggested they use the boat for events — then the couple took a ride on the water.

“The season was not written, but needless to say, that [James Van Der Beek] cliffhanger was going to pay off as an enormous part, probably the main driving force, of Season 5,” Padalecki says. “Cordell taking a backseat with his Ranger duties and maybe being purposefully naïve to what’s going on next door… There were so many ways we could go, and it was going to be a damn good season of television, but it’s going to have to live in our imaginations.” (Get more of Padalecki’s thoughts on the show’s end and his TV future.)

Below, showrunner Anna Fricke details Van Der Beek’s role and what else was planned for a fifth season, including Cordell and Geri’s potential engagement and Liam’s mysterious new job.

TVLINE | Looking back on the episode, is there anything that you would’ve done differently or changed? Or are you pretty satisfied with the way it ended? Well, it’s probably a two-part answer. We did not know the fate of the show when we wrote the finale. I wrote the finale with Blythe Ann Johnson. We did know, as always, things are uncertain, and so we tried to, as always, write a cliffhanger, write some twists, leave some threads for an upcoming season. We were given the chance, a little bit into either the prep or the filming of the finale, to change anything, just in case, and we did not yet know the fate of the show. So it was sort of like a gamble, and I wrestled with that decision for many days, and talked to the writers, and talked to the producers and to Jared [Padalecki] about what we should do, if anything, and basically, ultimately, we didn’t want to insert a last-minute scene that would sum everything up. It’s 42 minutes of television. We didn’t want to summarize a whole series in one scene, or a few changed lines, or anything like that. So we, ultimately, decided to leave it as it was, which was a tough decision, but I still feel like it’s a good finale. It’s satisfying in many ways. It does not tell the full tale. This show was supposed to go on for 10 years, in my brain, and so, it doesn’t sum up everything, but I didn’t want to rush it, if that makes sense.

TVLINE | You still get a sense of where these characters are going to end up, even though we don’t actually see it. One thing we did get The CW to agree to, which I’m super grateful for, [is] we do have an extended finale by a few minutes, which is a huge deal in terms of scenes, because there were scenes that we had cut that we put back in, which was huge. So we do have that closure, and everyone is in a good place. When I was discussing the finale with our producer/director, Steve Robin, who I adore, we were talking about like, “It’s a good finale, but is it the-lights-off-at-Cheers?” which is, for a certain age group, like the ultimate finale. [Laughs] And it’s not the-lights-off-at-Cheers because I wasn’t prepared for the end. Had I known I had been writing for the end, I would’ve taken the whole fifth season and really written to the end. But I don’t feel like the characters have been robbed.

TVLINE | You set up some really fun cliffhangers for a potential Season 5, especially with the reveal of James Van Der Beek as the Walkers’ new neighbor. How did that come together? That whole process was so exciting. We always wanted to leave some threads for Season 5. We were going to do the cult next door. So he was supposed to be a cult leader. Ever since James Van Der Beek moved to Austin, we’ve been like, “How do we get him into the show? What can we do?” and this just seemed like the perfect thing, and we finally got him for this part. A small-known fact is that we had actually approached him to be Clint West [in] Season 1, which Austin Nichols, ultimately played, and Austin was so excellent in that role. I would not have it any other way. But James had been on that list for a possible villain. We were sort of circling him, like, “Is this possible? Can we get James?” and Jared and James are friends, and Dawson’s Creek was, of course, my first job in this industry. So it was a very beautiful full-circle thing.

TVLINE | Of all the cliffhangers in this episode, that one was the most like, “Oh, darn, I wish I could’ve seen this play out.” I’m not going to lie, part of me wanted to leave people mad. [Laughs] Part of me wanted to have like a big, splashy ending, so then people would be like, “How could you end this?!” No, it was going to be a lot of fun, and to me, personally, I think there was something profound in James Van Der Beek with Jared on this show, sort of like a great throwback to the original WB, and the commentary on the evolution of this network, which I was maybe reading too much into, but I enjoyed it. [Laughs]

TVLINE | What would the dynamic have been like between James’ character and Cordell? Had you thought that far ahead yet? Oh, gosh. I talked to James, and it was so last-minute. He’s a saint. I think it was truly like the day before we were shooting. It was really, really insanely last-minute, so thank God he lives there. He loved the idea of the cult leader, and I think, actually, half those clothes are his own clothes. [Laughs] He was super into it and super into the dynamic he would bring, and he was really into the idea of playing a fun character, an interesting character, a bad character. He was going to be kind of quirky bad, but amusing. He was going to be a really whimsical, amusing character. We were not going to do blood cult, bad, bad, bad cult. We were going to do like kooky cult.

TVLINE | There was a moment, earlier this season, where I thought Luna might be The Jackal, but then I was like, “No, they wouldn’t do that to Cassie.” But then you killed him, which is, I think, even worse. I know, it’s so funny. So many people thought he was The Jackal, which I love. The crew gets the scripts when all the department heads get the script, so they didn’t know, and so there were crew speculations, all season long, about who The Jackal was, and Luna was up there. Some people thought it was Sadie, which was a good one, too. [Laughs] It was devastating to kill him, but it had to be done for drama. I have a joke about all of our best guest stars, like Matt Barr, Austin Nichols, Justin Cortez Johnson, we just kill them all. But it doesn’t mean anything on our show. You can come back as a ghost. It’s fine.

TVLINE | You did give Cassie a bit of a hopeful note there at the end, when she got the promotion, and it leads to this interesting dynamic of she’s now Cordell’s superior. What were you excited to explore with that, if the show had continued? I was really excited to explore exactly that, her being his superior, but it wasn’t going to be a desk job with her. She was going to still be on the streets. But I was excited to see the dynamic of her having to discipline or corral or whatever Walker and Trey, and sort of be in charge of them a bit, and make calls with Captain James. We’ve never seen him have a number two. So that would’ve been really fun. And just seeing her have that dynamic of taking control of a job that Cordell, himself, never wanted, and just seeing her take charge would’ve been really fun.

TVLINE | Geri and Cordell went through their struggles this season, but they ended the finale in a much healthier place. Is it safe to say they were definitely going to get engaged? You know, it’s funny. We had a joke in the writers’ room about the end of the series, and truly, I thought it was going to go 10 years. Walker says to Emily in a flashback, I think, in Season 1, Episode 6, I think he says, “Going to marry Geri and work at the Side Step,” if Emily ever dies. And so that was sort of the end goal, but even when I was given the chance to alter the finale in any way, I didn’t want to get there. It was too fast for a proposal. So I didn’t want to do that right away. The engagement ring box was a very last-minute add. It was truly on the day of filming that scene. We went to the props department and said, “Hey, do you have a box? Can we put it in his pocket?” We shot it as an insert so that we could cut it out if we needed to. We didn’t want to be married to it, literally. I didn’t want marriage to be the end-all, be-all for her. I wanted more for her. So I didn’t want to rush to an engagement for that reason, and it just seemed too fast. I think, ultimately, yes, they end up together. If we’d had a fifth season, we would’ve made a story point out of the engagement, as in, like, he didn’t ask, or he did and it went south, or something happened. We wouldn’t have done that off-screen, for what it’s worth.

TVLINE | When she calls out to him, he says in this meaningful way, “I’m ready,” and it’s obvious he’s talking on another subtextual level. But it sounds like Geri’s not ready, she’s not in the same place. For sure. I was always, like, “Geri’s not ready.” I was always very interested in the character of Geri, of she wants more, and she wants something else. So even if he was ready to propose, I don’t know that she was ready to say yes. That was going to be a whole other thing.

TVLINE | How might have this time away from work have changed Cordell with the leave of absence? That’s interesting. Part of me wonders, in a fifth season, if he ever goes back. Because I never thought, in my mind, that he went to the grave a ranger. I think, at a certain point, he stopped it, because to me, his struggle has always been the work/life balance between family and work, and where is he going to end up? I think that, ultimately, hopefully, he gets more invested in his kids and steps away from that, and from the get-go, he wasn’t gunning to be captain, lieutenant, anything like that. He’s not trying to climb that ladder. So what is it for him? And I don’t know. I think he would’ve gone back for a season to be partnered with Trey on the streets, just doing the daily grind as a ranger. But I don’t know if he would’ve gone too much further beyond that. I think he would’ve maybe gone on to something else.

TVLINE | What can you say about what the governor wanted Liam’s help with? The governor’s daughter was kidnapped. Liam has a very particular set of skills, and the governor wanted Liam’s help. We were going to get Liam back into the halls of the political offices and dealing with that stuff. So it was going to be fun, Liam-doing-high-stakes-government stuff.

TVLINE | One of the other things that you hinted at but was kind of left dangling was the business proposal that Geri made to Sadie and Stella. Any details you can share about that? It was going to be the Side Step expanding and just keeping it in the family, and also, just keeping Saylor [Bell] on the show, because we love Saylor, we love working with her. We could only have so many series regulars, but we really loved working with Saylor. So it was sort of dangling a carrot of if there’s another Side Step, do we open this up? Do we have another storyline with the expanded Side Step? And what that opening is like, and what pursuing Sadie’s music is like at the same time. We just wanted to keep her in the mix.

TVLINE | Have you changed your mind, at all, about Cassie and Trey? [Fricke previously told TVLine there were no romantic feelings between the characters.] [Laughs hysterically] No. I never want them to be together. [Laughs] That’s so funny, Vlada, that you would ask that. Oh, my God, I’m like crying laughing. That was an ongoing argument in the writers’ room.

TVLINE | I remember you mentioning that. So I wondered if maybe somebody had swayed you by the end of the season. No, I did not want them to be together. Here’s the thing: In my mind, if we had gone 10 seasons, in the finale, maybe they would’ve gotten together, yes. Certainly not in this timeline. Ultimately, sure, but no. If we had been on 10 years, and she had gone on to the FBI, and blah, blah, blah, and they revisited each other, sure. But not when they were working in the same office. No, no, no. In Season 5, he was going to have an old Army friend, a female friend, calling. He was getting mysterious phone calls. He was going to have an old Army friend calling him for help that was going to cause some complications for him. So that was going to happen there.

TVLINE | Were there any other Season 5 storylines that you were excited about? I’m sure we had a ton. The cult was going to be fun. August was going to fall in love with — That was our in: August is going to fall in love with the girl next door, get dragged into the cult, have to be extracted. That was going to be fun. The governor stuff, leading to a proposal at the end of Season 5 with Walker and Geri… It would’ve been great.

[rythasbrenelle]

Prompt #4: Reticent

On most days, Locke liked birds more than people. They talked a little bit, each inquiry and answer a slightly different kweh, just enough to qualify as company. But they never pressed him. If all he had to contribute to the conversation was a sniffle or a grunt, chocobos didn’t mind. A meal of greens, a bit of preening, a few encouraging pats, and they were set.

Ideal traveling companions, chocobos.

After three days of the same tall tale being shared in the inn as Locke and Sosonado waited for the storm to pass and the roads to clear, such that every other patron was thoroughly sick of the story by the time they could resume their travels, Locke desperately wished his client was more like a chocobo. “I daresay they’ll be spreading tales of your derring-do across Coerthas now, lad!” Sosonado crawled out from the back of the wagon, his cargo inspection completed, and hopped up onto his seat. “A gunslinger with hair like fire! A swordsman with no need for swords!” Locke’s gaze flicked down to where his swords rested against his leg, propped up in the floor of the box seat. The ornate handle of the gunblade wasn’t far from his fingers, just in case trouble found them on the road again. Though after Sosonado’s yarn, Locke had half a mind to let trouble succeed next time. “Please wait, gentlemen!” a clear voice called out. Locke turned in his seat, a tall ear swiveled in the voice’s direction before his eyes found the source. The bartender who’d been working the night he arrived in the Observatorium made her way across the yard, taking care to step around the hardy greens peeking through the snow.

“Is there something we can help you with, ma’am?” Sosonado asked. “The opposite. I was hoping to help the two of you.” She produced a pair of red crystals from her tunic and dropped them into Sosonado’s arms, too large for his hands as they were. “It’s not much, but perhaps they’ll keep you warm. Be it on the road or in a snowstorm, should more heroics be required.” Sosonado looked to Locke with a grin bright as the sun and set one of the crystals in his waiting hand, warm even through his glove. Locke found himself caught between rolling his eyes and giving the bartender an earnest thanks. He settled for a curt nod.

But Sosonado had no such issues speaking. “My deepest thanks! I have many things in my wagon, but crystals are unfortunately not one of them, useful though they’d be. I’ll treasure it. As will my companion here.” He looked at Locke meaningfully, but the bartender shook her head.

“No, no, it’s quite alright. He already paid for his, yeah? He needn’t thank me.” She flashed easy smiles at both of them. “Safe travels. I hope the Holy See proves lucrative.” “As do I,” Sosonado agreed, lowering his head. The bartender began to make her way back to the inn, and Sosonado collected the reins. He snapped them once, called to the chocobos, and the wagon lurched into motion. Travel was far from smooth, snow and ice still abundant along the road, but the birds were well-rested and well-trained. They avoided the worst of it where they could.

“Kind of her,” Sosonado said, dark eyes forward. “On my behalf, at any rate. She said you paid?”

Locke shrugged a shoulder. His hand lingered near his gunblade still, though he’d have liked to keep it on the crystal in his pocket, emanating its gentle warmth. “I suppose we did buy more than our share of bread, soup, and drinks. You especially. How do you eat so much, where do you put it all?”

A cant of his head. Fighting, traveling, existing, Locke supposed. He communicated this with several taps of his claws against his sword.

If Sosonado gleaned meaning from the gesture, he didn’t show it, though his eyes did follow Locke’s claws and settle on the sword. “I have been meaning to ask. That gunblade of yours is an imperial piece, isn’t it? As is your firearm. Quite ostentatious, the pair of them. Did you serve?” Locke opened his mouth. Words were hard, sometimes. They liked to get caught in his throat. But these came easily enough, even if it took a moment. “Not them.” Sosonado nodded. “Just as well. Wearing them as prominently as you do, they might draw trouble in places where folk have more of a, uh, predisposition against the empire. But you probably already know that.”

Locke hummed a confirmation but didn’t elaborate further. And for a while, that seemed to be enough conversation. Sosonado’s attention returned wholly to the road, and Locke slouched in his seat and rested his eyes. He was roused only when they arrived at Camp Dragonhead, where they made a brief stop and Sosonado declared he needed to stretch his legs.

While he was gone, Locke tended to the chocobos, unhitching them from the wagon and allowing them to rest properly while he fetched their water. The chore earned him a peck, which he excused as an accident, and a beak rubbing, which he answered with preening. He was mostly silent throughout the task, save for the occasional word of praise for whichever bird was cooperating with him at the moment.

Sosonado returned after a short while, a parcel tucked under his arm. It wasn’t until the chocobos were hitched again and the wagon was lurching forward that Sosonado dropped the package into Locke’s lap; he twitched in response, straightening and reaching for his gunblade. As his eyes settled on the coarse wrapping, he relaxed again and looked at Sosonado, a question written on his face.

“It’s merely some salted eft. Consider it a tip.” Before Locke could speak up, Sosonado waved a hand dismissively. “You’ll be compensated monetarily as well, don’t you worry. All we agreed upon and then some. Your apparent laziness aside, you’ve done your job well.”

Locke unwrapped the parcel and found a pile of dried meat there. The smell of it immediately got him salivating. He pinched a strip of it between his claws and popped it into his mouth, the salty and woody and, oh, citrusy flavors sharp on his tongue.

“Thanks,” he said. It came out garbled and unclear and a bit wet, on account of the drooling. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping it clean.

“Don’t mention it. Really. Don’t.”

More than happy to comply, Locke let the chocobos’ footfalls, the wagon’s creaking, and his chewing fill the silence for the remainder of their journey to the Holy See of Ishgard.

[whyisthereacentaur]

Have you ever heard of der Schneider (the tailor), from the early 20th-century German "educational" children's book Der Struwwelpeter?

He allegedly would leap out with a giant pair of fabric shears and amputate the thumbs of children who wouldn't stop sucking their thumbs.

I kid you not, this is the illustration in the book and it scared the hell out of me as a child even though I never believed he was real:

I was just wondering, what do you think he's doing in 2024?

Wow, so first, apologies for the long delay in answering this ask! And thank you for the inspiration. The ideas came quickly, but finding the time needed to put them to digital page took a lot longer.

Fair warning that I’ve had altogether far too much fun with this idea and have taken some extreme artistic licence with his species!

Modern Monsters: The Scissorman

~~~

I had already heard of this character.

I have no idea why my grandmother happened to own a copy of the translation of Der Struwwelpeter, nor why she kept it in the main bookshelf, but she did; and I was a child who read everything within reach, so I did.

For those who haven’t, the book is an anthology of ridiculously overblown morality tales. Der Schneider or The Scissorman features in the tale of Little Suck-A-Thumb. You can read the short poem in English here: https://www.poetrybyheart.org.uk/poems/the-story-of-little-suck-a-thumb

I’ll be sticking to calling him The Scissorman below, because honestly, it’s just got great horror vibes.

There is very little said about the Scissorman in the poem itself. When kids suck their thumbs, he shows up and cuts off their thumbs with his scissors. It’s never explained why he does this, or how he knew that Konrad was sucking his thumb in the first place.

Call me crazy, but maybe he(?) is not even human at all. Maybe he can pass as human, and drops the disguise when it’s too late for his victims.

The Scissorman still makes close to a reasonable living from tailoring these days, but that line of income has suffered somewhat in the age of fast fashion. It was mainly a flimsy excuse to live among humans, anyway. It’s a lot harder to detect time wasters and thumb suckers out in the wilderness, after all, let alone get within striking distance before other humans show up and get in the way.

However, with his inhuman ability to sense humans, the Scissorman is more than aware that he is not the only monster to move among them.

And some of those monsters will pay handsomely, whether that be by money or barter or favours, for someone to source human flesh for them.

The Scissorman runs a quite-literally-underground wet market hidden in an expansive chamber underneath his tailor’s shop. He has recruited a network of trustworthy (for his purposes, at least) vendors of all sorts of in-demand human products and byproducts; alongside his own procured stock, one can find everything from organs, to extracted emotions, to literal blood, sweat and tears.

It should be noted that the Scissorman does not, himself, need to eat fingers and thumbs, or any other physical body part.

The Scissorman feeds on the energies and emotions released by humans, with the most negative ones being the most powerfully nourishing and delicious. Removing thumbs and fingers from his typical targets is just the most efficient way of removing access to various sources of comfort, keeping his victims’ negative energies at an all-time high.

He is, of course, terminally manipulative, and therefore will self-report the motivation for his attacks as something different - something that lets him claim virtue and blame his victims.

He will sometimes partake of the market’s other offerings from time to time despite the lack of physical obligation to do so. It’s a good way to monitor the quality of the stock, as well as build rapport with the customers and vendors, and he is conscious of the importance of reputation and allies in the underworld they all move in.

Incidentally, he has met Cuca. She does come by every now and again when the cravings for brat flesh get a bit too distracting.

In exchange for his promise to leave her nannying charges alone, she has paid him off well with tips on where to find all the worst-behaved people she knows - whether he chooses to cut them down to size, or to drop by periodically to feed off the suffering they inflict on others around them, really depends on which mood strikes him that day.

~~~

Barring the Kelpie, which I’ve treated as more of a wild animal than sapient being, a lot of my Modern Monsters have been… if not outright good, at least capable of and willing to do some things that might do some good.

The idea of a guy who zaps in out of nowhere and mutilates children for no justifiable reason seemed like a great opportunity for a monster who Knowingly Does Bad Stuff and who also Definitely Won’t Change.

I had to make the Scissorman at least not fully human, because he’s been terrorising children for more than one natural lifetime. And no disrespect to the original illustrator, but that face looked so passive and mask-like for someone who’s cutting off someone else’s body part, I started to think about a creature hiding its true shape behind a porcelain mask.

Why I went for that shape being some sort of alien blowfly-pseudoscorpion hybrid with neck vertebra and metal shears for pincers, well, one, the butcher’s stall & exposed bone/attendant flies connections, two, I wanted the tailor’s scissors to be an integral part of his true body and wanted to reference a weird real-life creature with pincers, and three, I let the weird part of my brain loose to have fun with it.

I’m trying out a new art program (IbisPaint X) and did the grayscale image first, then belatedly realised that colours might be a good choice when I’ve called him “red-legged” in reference to the original poem. So you get both versions. Colour scheme loosely refers to the original illustration’s clothing.

The rhythm of this poem jumps about a little, but so did the translation of the original, so I didn’t agonise as much as usual about trying to keep the meter tight.

On the plus side, I learned a new word - I had to look up what to call “eater of humans” when they can’t be called a cannibal since they’re not human themselves. You can imagine my face finding out what word I now had to fit into a rhyming poem somewhere.

~~~

Modern Monsters series

Modern Monsters 1: Dullahan

Modern Monsters 2: Kelpie

Modern Monsters 3: Kuchisake-onna

Modern Monsters 4: Cuca

Modern Monsters 5: Vampire

Modern Monsters 6: Dr Frankenstein

Modern Monsters 7: Frankenstein’s Monster

Modern Monsters bonus: Frankenstein, Monster (it’ll come some day I swear)

Modern Monsters 8: The Scissorman

Modern Monsters 9: Lesser Dragon (Dragonet)

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

DELUXE EDITION--a deluxe hardback edition, featuring gorgeous dark teal sprayed edges, a foil case stamp, beautiful endpapers, a detailed map, and deliciously moody art throughout.

From New York Times bestselling author RuNyx comes Enigma, a twisted Hades and Persephone meets scorching dark academia romance—a tale of love and obsession between two rivals.

There are secrets she must uncover. There are secrets he must keep.

Salem Salazar is fascinated with death. The black sheep of her scandal-ridden, wealthy family, she arrives at Mortimer University as a legacy on the hunt for answers about what happened to her perfect, older sister. There, she discovers that her sister is far from the only girl to have gone missing at Mortimer. Salem will do anything to discover what dark forces are killing Mortimer's students...even if it means using herself as bait.

And Cazimir van der Waal has caught her scent. The mysterious artist and teaching assistant has a dark past, a hidden agenda, and a ravenous appetite for a beautiful, golden-eyed girl who seems determined to risk her life.

Where she is ice, he is fire. Where she is organization, he is chaos. Where she is precision, he is passion. Together they are explosive--their fates linked as secret societies and death stalk them both.

Enigma is a sensual, epic love story for those who also crave the frightful, the puzzling, the suspenseful, the dangerous and the dark.

Welcome to Mortimer.

Enigma *Dark academia romance *Steamy suspense *Rivals to lovers *Secret Societies *Forbidden love

Review:

Dark academia, murder mystery, age gap romance, academic rivals, forensic student x painter TA (and throw in some cults, gothic vibes and so much more). I am absolutely in love with this book. It's everything I could want and more. I adore gothic romances so much and this book perfectly captures the seaside academy with a romance and mystery. Seriously pick up this book immediately if you want a gothic romance!!!

Release Date: April 29, 2025

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Tor Publishing Group | Bramble for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[ponderingmoonlight]

How to leave a request on this blog/general information

General information

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The covers of my fics are NOT supposed to be artwork, but to enhance the mood of the following fic

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Unfortunately I'm not a skilled artist when it comes to things outside writing, so don't come at me for using AI

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About requests on this blog

Your requests are always welcomed, no matter what time or what day – get in that inbox!

It might take a while for me to actually publish it though, so stay patient

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Really long and detailed requests

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requests that contain sensitive topics without a trigger warning

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kind tone

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Characters I’m writing for

Jujutsu Kaisen

Satoru Gojo

Suguru Geto

Kento Nanami

Megumi Fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro

Choso Kamo

Yuji Itadori

Ryomen Sukuna

Toge Inumaki

Ino Takuma

Complilations (many characters separately in the same setting)

Attack on Titan

Levi Ackerman

Eren Jaeger

Erwin Smith

Jean Kirstein

Rainer Braun

Porco Galliard

Complilations

Demon Slayer

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Tanjiro Kamado

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Uzui Tengen

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Yoriichi

Akaza

Kokushibo

Complilations

[archduchessofnowhere]

What books about Sisi do you recommend? 😄 Which ones are the best in your opinion?

Hello! I'm sorry for answering this so awfully late. I already recommended some of these books always before, but I tried to give some new recomendations this time!

BIOGRAPHIES:

Elizabeth, empress of Austria by Egon Conte Corti. The first biography of the empress based on primary sources; this work is to this day a point of reference for any historian who wants to write about Sisi. The book, first published in 1934, is however outdated and slightly biased (the children of archduchess Marie Valerie were the ones who opened up the family archives for Corti after all). Translations available in English, Spanish, French, Italian, Hungarian, Slovak, Polish and Dutch.

The Reluctant Empress, by Brigitte Hamann. The most well sourced biography since Corti's. Hamann's book departed from the fairy tale princess image that had been established since the 50s and depicted Elisabeth as a complicated and far from perfect woman. The book, first published in 1982, is however slightly outdated and biased (Hamann just hated Elisabeth lol). There are translations available in English, Spanish, Hungarian, French, Italian, Czech, Polish and Romanian.

Sisis Weg: Vom Mädchen zur Frau by Martina Winkelhofer. I made a full review of this book last month but in short: a refreshing study at Elisabeth's childhood, teenhood and first years as empress that rely on newly available primary sources. I wouldn't recommend this book as your first approach to Elisabeth though, since Winkelhofer assumes the reader is already familiar with the "Sisi myth" and doesn't tend to give much historical context outside the necessary, which may be confusing if you aren't familiar with 19th century European history in general. Translations available in Italian, Polish and Czech.

PUBLISHED DIARIES, LETTERS AND MEMOIRS:

Das Tagebuch der Lieblingstochter von Kaiserin Elisabeth edited by Martha and Horst Schad. Archduchess Marie Valerie's diary from 1878 until 1899. I own a copy of this book and I've been slowly reading it, maybe one day I'll finally finish it. There are translations available in Italian, Hungarian and Czech.

Briefe Kaiser Franz Josephs an Kaiserin Elisabeth, 1859-1898 edited by Georg Nostitz-Rieneck. A compilation of the emperor's letters to his wife. Available (as far as I know) only in German.

Lieber Rudolf: Briefe von Kaiser Franz Joseph und Elisabeth an ihren Sohn edited by Friedrich Weissensteiner. A compilation of letters that the imperial couple wrote to their son Crown Prince Rudolf between 1860 and 1878. Available (as far as I know) only in German.

Das Tagebuch der Gräfin Marie Festetics: Kaiserin Elisabeths intimste Freundin edited by Gudula Walterskirchen and Beatrix Meyer. The diary of Elisabeth's lady-in-waiting Marie Festetics. Available in German and Hungarian.

Kaiserin Elisabeth ganz privat: Briefe an ihre intimste Vertraute Ida Ferency edited by Beatrix Meyer. All the surviving correspondance between Elisabeth and her reader and confident Ida Ferenczy. Available (as far as I know) only in German.

Unsere liebe Sisi: Die Wahrheit über Erzherzogin Sophie und Kaiserin Elisabeth edited by Gabriele Praschl-Bichler. A compilation of letters by archduchess Sophie regarding her daughter-in-law and also the life of the imperial family in general. Also available in Czech.

Aus den letzten Jahren der Kaiserin Elisabeth by Countess Irma Sztáray. The memoirs of Elisabeth's last lady-in-waiting, from the time she entered service in 1894 until the empress' assassination in 1898. Currently in the public domain in German so it can be read for free here; available also in Hungarian, French, Italian and Czech.

OTHERS:

Das Poetische Tagebuch edited by Brigitte Hamann. Elisabeth's edgy poetry. Historians drag her writing style through the mud while simultaneously using her poems as if they were her private diary. Waiting for a translation in English or Spanish to read them, available also in Hungarian and Italian.

Elisabeth: Stages in a life edited by Brigitte Hamann and Elisabeth Hassmann. A nice short book about the different places Elisabeth lived and traveled to, full with pictures. Available in German and English.

My Past by Countess Marie Larisch. The memoirs of Elisabeth's controversial niece. I don't actually recommend them for learning about the empress since they are very unreliable, hence why I din't put this book in the previous block. I do recommend reading them to double check which heavily accepted facts about Elisabeth and her family originated from here, since many historians repeat her claims uncritically, sometimes without even citing her as the source. In the public domain, you can read it for free in German here and in English here. Also available in Hungarian, French, Italian and Czech.

Tagebuchblätter by Constantin Christomanos. The diary of Elisabeth's Greek teacher from 1891 to 1894. Just as with Larisch' memoirs, Christomanos' book is a mix of fiction and reality, so you should take it with a grain of salt. You can read it for free in German here and in French here. Also available in Greek, Hungarian, Italian and Spanish.

I hope that I could help you!

[powerfought]

amala you didn't tell me your mommy was hot :(

❛ mother , why must you torment me so ? ❜

[dkniade]

Fischl, Venti, and Oz talk about names, identity, and elements.

Note that it’s quite wordy due to Fischl’s speech pattern and Venti playing along. Oz simplifies the conversation into prose at the end.

I haven’t written Fischl in a long time. Last time was years ago, where I wrote a short conversation between Fischl and Venti on speech patterns. But Fischl’s blurring of reality and imagination/fantasy is fascinating.

Fischl: Ah, Master Venti! Windborne Bard and writer of countless ballads ancient, are thou in need of mine assistant?

Oz: Mein Fräulein means—

Venti: Not quite assistance, but I’m just curious, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, Sovereign of Immernachtreich, Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort—

Fischl: Y-Yes?

Venti: Whence found thee the jewel of inspiration for thy holy title of darkness, O Prinzessin?

Fischl: Inspiration? I— Ahem…

Oz: Mein Fräulein—?

Fischl: I… Worry not, Oz. I shall thy curiosity satisfy, so… dedicated art thou.

Venti: Well then, thy tale this bard eagerly awaits.

Fischl: I am simply Fischl, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, the Sovereign of Immernachtreich, the Princess of Condemnation hailing from the Land of Night Eternal! Destiny bids it so that I must within this world’s reality reside, separated from my homeland until time comes that I shall return whence I came. And, ahem… One must thank thee for lending one thine ears.

Venti: Of course, mein Fräulein~

Oz: You are truly impressive, Master Venti.

Venti: Hearing others’ stories… Such is the duty of a bard, Oz.

Fischl: But now that thou hast inquired the origin of my name! Pray tell… Divulge the origins of thine.

Venti: Hehe… ‘Tis of course after the winds.

Fischl: O-Oh? After Lord Barbatos himself, perhaps?

Venti: Mm… Lord Barbatos bears many names. I simply take inspiration from his… element of dominion, ehe~

Fischl: Wonderful! As do I for my Edelstein der Dunkelheit!

Venti: I see… Tell me, dear Fischl, why do you find comfort in the space between fiction and reality?

Oz: Master Venti…

Venti: Is this world not fantastical enough for the Prinzessin? Or is there a certain tale you’re not willing to divulge?

Fischl: …

Venti: Has little me finally halted the silver tongue?

Oz: …

Venti: I weave together tales as well, as you know.

Fischl: T-Then… Let us from within our hearts bear the unheard origins of our own tales.

Venti: Ehe, alright then!

OZ

I shall translate for you the conversation between Mein Fräulein and Master Venti. Mein Fräulein and Master Venti meet, and Master Venti calls her by her full title, asking her for the origin of her name, to which she is… quite surprised. But Mein Fräulein assures me she has no problem answering Master Venti’s question. She then divulges her heritage as the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, the Sovereign of Immernachtreich, and thanks him for listening to her. Master Venti responds and I… compliment him. Then Mein Fräulein asks for the origin of Master Venti’s own name, to which he responds it’s the wind… Mein Fräulein asks out-of-character if he named himself after Lord Barbatos, and Master Venti insists that he simply takes inspiration from the Anemo element since Lord Barbatos has many names. Mein Fräulein replies that she also named her Vision after its element. Then, Master Venti, as you know, asks Mein Fräulein why she… finds “comfort in the space between fiction and reality”, and then asks if Teyvat is… not magical enough, if she… if she holds some secrets, and if he’s got her tongue-tied… And lastly… Master Venti states that he also tells stories. Mein Fräulein insists that they both keep their secrets, to which Master Venti agrees.

[missbookiverse]

Erdsee-Lesekompass

Für viele ist die Herbstzeit wie gemacht für Fantasyliteratur. Warum mit diesen Gelüsten nicht mal einen Blick in die Vergangenheit werfen und eine Reihe namens Earthsea, zu Deutsch Erdsee, entdecken, deren letzter Band bereits vor 22 Jahren erschien? Findet ihr es nicht auch spannend, zu lesen, wie Fantasy damals war und zu erkennen, was sich seitdem verändert hat? Ursula K. Le Guin ist eine fabelhafte Autorin, um genau dieser Forschung nachzugehen.

Wer ist Ursula K. Le Guin?

Ursula K. Le Guin war eine amerikanische Science-Fiction- und Fantasyautorin, die von 1929 bis 2018 lebte. Vor allem in den Sechziger Jahren war sie eine der wenigen Frauen, die in diesen Genres erfolgreich Romane veröffentlichte. So war sie z. B. die erste Frau, die den Hugo und auch den Nebula Award gewann. Le Guins Romane hoben sich oft durch feministische Kritik, durch das Hinterfragen von gewalttätigen Herangehensweisen wie Krieg, durch Kriegsalternativen, die auf friedliches Zusammenleben im Einklang mit der Umgebung abzielten, und ein anthropologisches Interesse von der breiten Masse an Genre-Veröffentlichungen ab. Spannend, wegweisend und empfehlenswert ist dazu ihr kurzer Essay The Carrier Bag of Fiction aus dem Jahr 1986, den ihr kostenlos online lesen könnt und in dem sie erklärt, warum sie die Nase voll hat von “Männergeschichten”, in denen es immer nur ums Jagen, Töten und Kämpfen geht.

Was ist Earthsea?

Earthsea ist Le Guins Fantasy-Opus-magnum, eine sechsteilige Reihe, die in einer fantastischen Inselwelt mit demselben Namen spielt und unter anderem die Geschichte vom Zauberer Ged, der Priesterin Tenar und dem Mädchen Tehanu erzählt. Inzwischen wird Earthsea bereits öfter in einem Atemzug mit Tolkiens Middle-earth und C. S. Lewis’ Narnia genannt. Das Interessante an der Earthsea-Reihe ist, dass sie sich in zwei Zyklen aufteilen lässt, die erste und die zweite Trilogie. Während die erste in den 1960er und 1970er Jahren entstand und von Le Guin eigentlich als abgeschlossen erklärt wurde, hat sie 18 Jahre später ihre Meinung geändert und eine zweite Trilogie hinzugefügt. Da diese Entstehungsgeschichte ein bisschen verwirrend sein kann, habe ich das Ganze oben grafisch aufbereitet. Die Lesereihenfolge kann übrigens ganz simpel chronologisch vorgenommen werden (wobei sich darüber streiten lässt, ob die Kurzgeschichten, also Band 5, nicht auch einfach übersprungen werden könnten). Wer die Grafik aufmerksam studiert, wird feststellen, dass auch zwischen Band 4, Tehanu, und den letzten beiden Bänden eine elfjährige Lücke klafft. Die Autorin erklärt das auf ihrer Website wie folgt: 

“When Tehanu was published I put a subtitle on it — ‘The Last Book of Earthsea.’ I was wrong! I was wrong! I really thought the story was done; Tenar had finally got her second inning, and Ged and Tenar were [Spoiler entfernt], and if I didn't know exactly who or what Tehanu was, it didn't bother me. But then it began to bother me. And a lot of things about Earthsea were bothering me, like do wizards really have to be celibate, if witches don’t? and how come no women at Roke? and who are the dragons? and where do Kargish people go when they die? I found the answers to a lot of those questions in the stories that make the Tales from Earthsea. So then I was able to find out who Tehanu is — and who the dragons are — in The Other Wind.”

Einerseits erklärt das, warum es Earthsea in so unterschiedlichen Konstellationen zu kaufen gibt (Band 1-3 und 4-6 gesammelt, Band 1-4 gesammelt, einzeln) und andererseits illustriert es wunderbar, was Le Guin zu so einer genialen Autorin gemacht hat: Für sie war nichts in Stein gemeißelt. Sie hat sich mit ihren Lebensjahren verändert, ihre Meinungen revidiert und damit manchmal auch den Blick auf ihr eigenes Werk.

Was macht Earthsea so besonders?

Für eine Reihe, die in den Sechzigern entstand und aus der Feder einer weißen Frau stammt, ist es beachtlich, dass die meisten Figuren in Earthsea People of Color sind (was sich zu Le Guins Unmut nicht immer in der Covergestaltung niedergeschlagen hat). Für Le Guin war das eine bewusste Entscheidung, da die Fantasywerke, die sie um sich herum wahrnahm, keinerlei Vielfalt boten (aufgeschlüsselt in diesem Tor-Artikel). Ob sie sich diese Perspektive überhaupt aneignen darf, hat sie dabei ebenfalls beschäftigt und sie sagt 2004 im Slate Magazine Folgendes dazu: 

“So far no reader of color has told me I ought to butt out, or that I got the ethnicity wrong. When they do, I’ll listen. As an anthropologist’s daughter, I am intensely conscious of the risk of cultural or ethnic imperialism—a white writer speaking for nonwhite people, co-opting their voice, an act of extreme arrogance. In a totally invented fantasy world, or in a far-future science fiction setting, in the rainbow world we can imagine, this risk is mitigated. That’s the beauty of science fiction and fantasy—freedom of invention.”

Diese Aneignung mit Genre-Distanz abzutun, finde ich persönlich etwas fragwürdig und würde heute so vielleicht auch nicht mehr akzeptiert werden, aber gleichzeitig ist es eben nicht zu unterschätzen, was für einen Unterschied diese Art der Repräsentation von PoC in Fantasywelten damals gemacht haben dürfte.

In Sachen Gender und Feminismus kann Le Guin allerdings aus persönlicher Erfahrung schöpfen und tut dies am auffälligsten in Tehanu. Zur Erinnerung: Es sind fast 20 Jahre vergangen, seit die erste Earthsea-Trilogie veröffentlicht wurde und wir befinden uns nun in den Neunzigern. Die dritte Welle des Feminismus bricht los und Le Guin treiben eine Menge Fragen um: Warum stehen in den meisten Fantasyromanen Männer im Fokus? Wieso sind ältere Frauen, solche mit erwachsenen Kindern, so unsichtbar? Wieso gibt es selbst in Earthsea nur Zauberer und eine Schule nur für sie? Was ist das für eine Welt, in der Mädchen und Frauen von Männern vergewaltigt werden und in Angst vor diesen leben? In Tehanu geht Le Guin all diesen Fragen nach, hinterfragt und kritisiert die Fantasy-Stereotype ihrer selbst geschaffenen Welt und verhandelt Misogynie und Rape Culture der Realität. Dazu schreibt sie treffend im Locus Magazine:

“I'm only sorry it took me to Book Four of Earthsea to be able to refuse the prejudice that sees male as the norm.”

Weitere Themen, die euch in Earthsea begegnen, sind der Tod und seine Grenzen, der Umgang mit und das Gleichgewicht zwischen Menschen und ihrer Umwelt, die Frage nach Macht und die Macht der Worte. Ihr merkt vielleicht schon, dass Earthsea mit all diesen Themen wohl keine besonders actiongeladene Handlung zu bieten hat. Es gibt natürlich Reisen und Quests, aber eben auch viele Gespräche und philosophische Überlegungen. Außerdem sind die Bücher für heutige Verhältnisse oft ungewohnt gerafft erzählt, aber wenn ihr nicht nur gute Fantasybücher lesen wollt, sondern euch auch für ihren Entstehungs- und Entwicklungskontext interessiert, seid ihr hier genau richtig. Wobei ich gestehen muss, dass Earthsea auch losgelöst von seiner geschichtlichen Einordnung eine urige, gemütliche Atmosphäre versprüht und interessante Geschichten erzählt.

Welches Medium passt zu mir?

Da Earthsea sich seit Jahrzehnten so großer Beliebtheit erfreut, gibt es inzwischen eine ganze Handvoll Wege, die Geschichten kennenzulernen. Ganz klassisch gibt es da natürlich die Bücher in Originalsprache oder auch in der neuen deutschen Übersetzung von Karen Nölle, Hans-Ulrich Möhring und Sara Riffel (im Deutschen momentan als gigantische, illustrierte Gesamtausgabe oder in 2 Sammelbänden mit je der ersten und zweiten Trilogie erhältlich). In beiden Sprachen sind Hörbücher verfügbar und es gibt sogar ein Hörspiel. Ursprünglich stammt dieses von der BBC, aber inzwischen hat der WDR auch eine deutsche Version produziert, die ihr kostenlos als Hörspiel-Podcast anhören könnt. Staffel 1 umfasst die erste Trilogie und Staffel 2 Buch 4 und 6. Der Inhalt ist hier natürlich stark runtergebrochen, aber als Einstieg oder Auffrischung ist diese erstklassige Produktion absolut empfehlenswert. Der Vollständigkeit halber will ich auch die Verfilmung von 2004 erwähnen, die allein schon wegen des white-washings der Charaktere von der Autorin abgelehnt wurde (wie im Slate Magazine kommentiert) und deren Trailer alles andere als ansprechend aussieht. Interessant, aber ebenfalls weit weg von den Büchern ist die Studio-Ghibli-Umsetzung namens Tales from Earthsea, die sich größtenteils auf Band 3 bezieht.

Und jetzt erzählt mir mal, wie vertraut ihr bereits mit Le Guin und Earthsea wart oder ob ich euch neugierig machen konnte und mit welchem Medium ihr gern nach Earthsea reisen würdet.

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 28

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to save the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Word count: 3.9k

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well), she/her pronouns

"You found someone with a hot air balloon?", you ask, both fascination and disbelief lacing your voice.

Sadie is packing some things into the bags, that are attached on the sides of her horse's saddle. You notice that she's bringing awfully many weapons and bullets for a job as simple as scouting.

"You're really armed to the teeth, aren't you?", you comment, crossing your arms infront of your chest and watching her with a raised brow. She meets your gaze for a brief second, before turning her attention back to her work.

"Well, we will be scoutin' a prison.", she answers in a matter of fact way and your arms drop.

"Who's we?"

"Arthur will meet me at Doyle's Tavern in Saint Denis. My guess is that this Mr. Bullard will most likely only take a man up in the air. Said somethin' 'bout messin' up my vapors."

Granted, your bullet wound hasn't fully healed yet, but a normal scouting mission won't take too much of a toll on you. If you play your cards right, then you could convince your friend to take you with her to the saloon. All these weeks of being cooped up in that small cabin, have left you yearning for some action.

"Mind if I join you?", you start and she shoots you a look as if you just grew a second head.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?", she exclaims, turning her entire body to you now and letting go of the saddle bags. "Have you forgotten 'bout your condition?"

"I'm fine-"

"Fine, my ass! Arthur will have my head, if I take ya with me."

You're well aware that the last part is probably true, but there is still a way to get her on your side.

"Sadie, please.", you say with urgency. "You said that only Arthur will be on the balloon, right? I'll just wait with you on the ground then."

She studies your face a very long time and you're starting to fear, that she might still stand her ground. There is something shifting behind her eyes, but it vanishes quickly when she let's out a defeated sigh. Triumph already begins to bubble up in your chest, upon hearing that sound.

"Alright.", she finally admits, but then wiggles her finger infront of your face. Her tone carries a warning. "But don't you dare even think about reachin' for your gun! You ain't shootin' nobody out there!"

An eager nod is all you respond with, before carefully mounting Penthesilea. The action hurts you, but you do your best to mask it. Sadie watches your through narrowed eyes, before signaling her horse to carry her out of Lakay.

Quietly you follow closely behind. The name of the saloon sounds familiar to you, as you recall it again. Doyle's Tavern was the place the two of you went out drinking after your small fight with Arthur, wasn't it? That's where you met James.

Thinking about the business man and former prisoner of the Van Der Linde gang, fills your with a kind of worry. It's not that you're concerned about him running to the police or anything. More that he might be crazy enough to seek you out once again. Well, there is nothing you can do, except hope that he has at least some ounce of self preservation.

From what you've gathered, ever since the Pinkertons ambush, Sadie has been out finding information about John's whereabouts behind Dutch's back. It's strange to you, that the leader seems to not care what happens to the outlaw. Especially considering how he usually jumps when Micah is in trouble.

But then again, Dutch didn't really jump into action back when Arthur got taken by the O'Driscolls. You can't seem to wrap your head around what priorities the gang leader has. Did you simply mishear him calling Arthur his son or is that a way of keeping the outlaw on a leash?

Quickly you push these thoughts to the back of your mind, before they can give you a headache. This entire thing is fucked and you're surprised that not more people are seeing it. Maybe you just haven't been part of the group for long enough or it's the fact that you don't belong here in the first place.

"You okay back there?", Sadie rips you out of your thoughts. "You've been oddly quiet this entire time."

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

"If you want to, then you can turn back.", she offers and shoots you a quick look over her shoulder. Her eyes fall on the spot where your injury is. "Ain't no one thinkin' that you're weak, if that's what you're worried 'bout."

"No, I'm fine. Really.", you answer. Appearing weak has never been of any concern to you, when you're with her.

Soon you arrive at Doyle's Tavern and that is when you recognize the place fully. Yes, that is where you and her got hammered alright. Memories of that day flood your mind and your hand automatically reaches up to touch your hat. It was one of the first things you had requested to be brought back, when they went to Shady Belle to pick up some supplies and equipment that got left behind.

"So what exactly will Arthur be doing up there?", you ask, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the high bar stools.

"Just check if John is still there.", she answers, before ordering a drink. You decide that it would be better to not consume any alcohol until that wound of yours is doing better.

"And what happens after that? It doesn't look like Dutch is eager to help, to be honest.", you respond, observing her reaction to your words. You want to know, if she shares your view on the leader and his slow, but steady decline.

Much to your disappointment, she doesn't comment on him. "Arthur and I'll get him out then."

"Just the two of you?"

"That's all we need and don't think, that I'll be takin' you with us. This here is an exception." She says the last part sternly, her voice not leaving any room to argue.

"Of course.", you murmur and lean your arms against the bar counter.

Once you're recovered, you should maybe celebrate with a glass of sherry. Really treat yourself after taking a bullet. After a while of just waiting and talking more about the plan, Arthur steps into the saloon. The sight of him alone is enough to lighten up your mood, although you already were doing pretty well.

The corners of his mouth lift as well, once his eyes land on you and he gives your shoulder a fleeting touch as a greeting. Out in public, he's still a bit hesitant to put his affection on display, but you don't mind. Behind closed doors, he melts into a puddle like hot wax under your touch and those are the moments that count.

"Any problems comin' in?", Sadie asks with curiosity.

"Nah.", was Arthur's simple answer. Even if there were problems, they're no match for someone of his caliber.

"Guess now they know we ain't in the city."

"What? Mr. Milton's friends?"

"Yes.", you chime in. "They've had patrols out ever since you guys disappeared."

He meets your gaze and something flickers in it for a short moment. It almost looked like he wanted to apologize or something. Sadie clears her throat and she looks at the outlaw as if she's unsure about her following words.

"What happened in..."

"Guarma?", Arthur clarifies and she gives him a barely noticeable nod. "Nothin' nice."

He lowers his gaze and you feel an urge boil up within you. It's an itch that's building up and you can't quite stop it.

"What happened with Dutch?", you blurt out, before you can even process the question in your head. Before the bank heist, he was acting weird, but now it's more obvious than ever. You've caught onto the way Hosea looks at the man and it only confirms your suspicions. Dutch Van Der Linde is not the man he used to be.

"Seems as...", Arthur starts. "What began happenin' in Blackwater, began happenin' years ago. Maybe."

Relief washes over you. At least now you know that you can voice your concerns to them about this topic. They're the people you're closest with in the gang and if you can't confide in them, then you can't confide in anyone.

"But what are you doin' here?", the man then asks, straightening his back. "You should be restin'."

"This is just a simple scouting mission, right? No, guns.", you argue, ready to fight for your part in this.

"Relax, Arthur. She promised me not to overdo it.", Sadie adds and you instinctively square up your shoulders, now that you have her support on this.

Arthur looks from you to Sadie and then back to you, before doing a throwaway gesture. He knows that he can't win an argument against the both of you and you give your friend a thankful smile. Together you make your way out of the saloon and walk up to your horses.

They keep a close eye on you, as you mount up your Andalusian and again, you don't show how much of a strain it puts on you. Joining them could be one of the most stupid decisions you've made in a while. This entire time, you're scared that riding your horse alone will be enough to rip the wound open.

Every now and then, you subtly check the bandages, but there is no blood leaking out. As long as you're extra careful, then it might turn out alright for you. Sadie leads you to the outskirts of the city, where you spot a man standing next to a hot air balloon. The sight of it fills you with disappointment, knowing that you won't be able to try it out together with Arthur.

"By the way, I've been huntin' O'Driscolls.", Sadie mentions after explaining the finer details of the plan to Arthur. Her statement catches you off guard though.

You remember sometimes seeing her coming back to camp covered in blood and with a shadow cast over her face, but she never told you a thing. It's possible that she didn't want to upset you during your healing process, but it still feels like a knife piercing your heart.

"What?", Arthur exclaims, equally as surprised as you are.

"Seems like they drifted down here now."

Before you can make a comment about it as well, you arrive at the balloon. You slide off your saddle slower than usual, but it doesn't seem like anyone is taking notice of it. Sadie calls out to the man and introduces Arthur to him.

"Mr. Arturo Bullard at your service, sir.", he says directed to the outlaw and falls into a deep bow. Then his eyes land on you and he raises his eyebrows in curiosity. "And who is this beautiful lady, may I ask?"

You give him your name with a polite smile and his eyes twinkle apologetically.

"Ah, my apologies, Miss, but I'm afraid you can't join us on the ride."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Adler already told me.", you answer and he visibly relaxes at your words.

Arthur throws you and Sadie a confused look, before hesitantly following Mr. Bullard to the balloon. "She can't?"

"Oh no, sir!", the man shouts in shock, as if Arthur had suggested to shoot you on the spot or something along those lines. "It does terrible damage to them! To their vapors! I thought everyone knew about that."

Sadie spits on the ground when he proceeds to call her a delicate flower and you barely stifle a laugh. Then you meet the outlaw's gaze, who looks a bit lost and out of place in that basket. His eyes dart around the balloon like it's going to fall apart under him any second.

"You sure 'bout this?", he asks.

"Certain, sir, quite certain.", Mr. Bullard mumbles while finishing up the last preparations.

Shortly after that, Arthur has to pull on a rope that is dangling above his head and you watch in wonder as they take off. Mr. Bullard strikes you as quite the colorful character and it's almost a shame, that you can't listen more to him and Arthur talk. Sadie moves in the corner of your eyes and you turn your head to her direction.

"Where are you going?", you ask, as she walks back to her horse.

"They're gonna land near Annesburg, so we should meet them there.", she answers and you climb back onto your horse. "There...ah, there's also some business I gotta attend to."

The alarm bells in your head ring. "Business?"

"Yes, but I don't want you to get involved. You wait, while I take care of it." She signals for her horse to start going and you follow her.

"Sadie?" Your voice carries a certain urgency, letting her know that you won't let her off the hook so easily.

"There's this O'Driscoll camp-"

"And you'll fight them all by yourself? No, I'm coming with you." Your words come shooting out faster than a bullet and she gives you a sour look.

"I was scoutin' them out before and it's just two of 'em. Nothin' I can't handle.", she argues. "Besides, you said that you won't go out shootin'. That was my one condition."

Damn that woman and her stubborn head. Through gritted teeth, you reluctantly agree to not get involved and wait at a safe distance from the camp. The rest of the ride, you're just mumbling under your breath. It's loud enough for her to hear how much you dislike the idea of her getting herself into danger like this.

She stops on the side of the road, just outside of Annesburg, and gets off the horse. As you take the reigns of her horse to make sure it doesn't run off, you watch her disappear between the trees. The wait is awfully long, but you assume that it's simply because the camp is a bit deeper in the forest. Then you hear a few shots fall in the distance and you flinch.

Penthesilea's disinterest to the noise calms you down a bit and you tell yourself that it's nothing to worry about. Those were two shots afterall, so Sadie probably just took care of the guys she told you about. But then another one falls and you think you can hear shouting from further away.

That is when you spot a flash of white and she comes sprinting from out of the bushes.

"We need to run!", she yells, not giving you the time to respond.

Something flies dangerously close past your head and you motion for Penthesilea to gallop. By now, your pistol is in your hand and you fire the trigger a few times behind you, hoping to slow down the men who are chasing you. All of them are wearing the same green bandana.

"It will be fine, you said! Just two guys, you said!", you shout over all the chaos and Sadie scoffs.

"How should I have known that these bastards were plannin' to ambush me?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe because you've been out slaughtering them all one by one the last few weeks!"

That shuts her up and you gather all your energy into not dying. Pain courses in large waves through your body with all the moving and turning. Something flickers in the corner of your eyes and as you turn your head, you find yourself face to face with an O'Driscoll.

He's riding beside you and has his revolver pointed right at your face. There is no time for you to raise your own weapon. He will pull the trigger, before you can even get your pistol to a level to damage him. You really thought you wouldn't get shot again so soon and now it will even end with your death.

But then the man goes limb and slides off his saddle. With wide eyes, you lift your head and spot a familiar hot air balloon flying above you. Mr. Bullard is now in charge of the rope while Arthur is firing shots at the O'Driscolls. Relief washes over you, as you realize that you've been given a second chance.

The fight continues and you're now fleeing over some train tracks. At this point, the men have noticed that someone has been decimating their lines from the air and they're now aiming their barrels at the balloon. There is nothing you can do, except watch in horror as Mr. Bullard clutches his chest and stumble out of the safety of the basket. If the shot didn't kill him, then the fall surely did.

Frantically, you signal for Penthesilea to go faster, knowing it won't do much. Your girl is already running at top speed. More bullets fly around you and you duck, in hopes that none of them will find their target. Every now and then, you twist your upper body to fire some shots yourself and every single time the pain in your stomach grows.

Arthur calls out to you and Sadie and throws over two ropes. The moment it's in your reach, you grab it with both hands. Sadie is already starting to climb up, but you're not sure if you're able to do the same. Every muscle in your body aches and when you try to hoist yourself up, you slip from the pain of your injury.

Then something tugs at your rope and you look up to see Arthur pulling you closer. He grabs your by your shoulders to help you into the basket. Quickly you notice that even now you're not going to be allowed to catch your breath. The balloon is losing height at a rapid pace and you hold onto the edges.

"I think we're gonna crash!", Arthur shouts, as you rush closer to the river.

"You have a real habit of statin' the obvious!", Sadie responds, who has managed to get inside all by herself.

The bottom of the hot air balloon scrapes over the water, making the entire thing bounce up, before gliding over the river again. It's bumpy, but fine until you reach the other side. The basket gets stuck on one of the many rocks at the shore and you're being catapulted forward.

With extended arms, you try to catch your fall, scratching up your palms in the process. Pebbles cut your hands and cheeks and you can't do much, except curl up into a groaning ball and clutch your stomach. You can't tell if your blouse is wet from the splashing water of the river or from your own blood.

A shadow falls over you, as Arthur rushes to your side. Pure terror is written all over his face and he hastily inspects you. Soon enough, Sadie jumps up and points to the other side.

"Look! The must have followed us!"

Arthur helps you up to your feet and together you take cover behind a boulder. Exhausted, you lean your back against it and hold onto your pistol. Good news is, that you're not bleeding. Bad news is, that the slightest movement overwhelms you, meaning you can't help fight off the group of O'Driscolls that is threatening to close in on you.

I should have stayed in my small cabin, goddammit.

After an agonizingly long time, the shooting comes to an end and by the look on both your companions faces, you have won. Arthur is kneeling next to you with his hand on your shoulder and you wave him off.

"I'm good.", you say, your strained voice sounding anything but convincing.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea they was expectin' me.", Sadie chimes in, her features contorted in genuine sorrow and regret.

"Don't worry. I was the one who pushed on joining you today."

Arthur slings an arm around your waist and he carefully lifts you back up onto your feet. As you lean on him entirely, you just take a moment to enjoy the warmth of his body seeping into yours. That alone makes you feel a bit better. But then you notices how his face is twisted in fury and it's all directed at Sadie.

"The hell is wrong with you?", he roars, your protests falling on deaf ears. "I only left you for an hour! You can't stay out of trouble for one goddamn hour? You got that poor bastard killed for his troubles! I kind of liked him! Not to mention-"

He stops himself from finishing the last sentence, as if he doesn't even want to voice it out loud. His eyes flickers to you for a moment and you immediately take his hand in yours. Maybe that will soothe his anger. Not that you don't understand him. You might have reacted the same if you and Arthur would swap places.

"They got Colm. The government has Colm O'Driscoll.", Sadie then says, ignoring the man's outburst. "They plan on hangin' him in Saint Denis."

"Hang him? Okay.", he answers, sounding extremely uninterested. Unlike you. This has your full attention.

"Nuh-uh! He's already been tried twice for murder and found guilty."

"Sure and no doubt he'll escape again!"

"Not if we make sure that he hangs.", you add and you feel Arthur's gaze on you.

"Dutch'll wanna see him swing too.", Sadie agrees, but the mention of the leader's name has the outlaw shake his head in disapproval.

"Dutch wouldn't even wanna help us with Marston!", he retorts and throws up his free hand. "And in case you two haven't noticed, we got our own problems at the moment!"

With every word, his voice becomes louder, but Sadie doesn't seem too fazed by his harsh reaction. "I'll make sure that that bastard will swing."

"Closely followed by Marston!", he shouts and you find support at one of the trees, letting him pace around in frustration.

"So you saw him?", you ask, trying to steer the conversation to another topic before this escalates any further.

"Yes. In the fields."

"Good.", Sadie says. "Then we'll go rescue him."

He scoffs. "From a state penitentiary?"

"It should be easy to get him, if he's out on the fields.", you counter and he points his finger at you.

"You ain't gettin' involved in this. Today was already...goddammit." Arthur runs a hand over his face and you furrow your eyebrows in worry.

Sadie says that she will work out a more detailed plan with how to break into the prison to get John out and rides off into the distance, leaving you and Arthur alone. Biting back pained grunts, you limp over to him and cup both his cheeks in your hands.

"Hey.", you softly call out and stare into his blue eyes. He looks incredibly tired and you pull him in for a kiss.

His lips gently move against yours and you feel his arms wrap themselves around your form, his hands grabbing a fistful of your blouse.

"We'll see this through. We'll get John back and have Colm pay for what he did.", you speak in between kisses and he leans his forehead against yours.

"And then what?", he asks. "I'll wait until you get hurt again?"

"I won't get hurt, Arthur."

"No. No, you won't."

There is something about his words that make it sound final. All this. The gang, the outlaw life, it all is slowly coming to an end, as your enemies close in and Arthur knows he has to make a decision soon.

He couldn't do it for Eliza and he couldn't do it for Mary. Can he do it for you?

Taglist: @shackspossum @abducted-cowz @heloixe @onyxlune

[epic-song-lyrics-showdown]

Select Artists with songs in the showdown Pt. 1

This one is instrumental submissions and other language song submissions. If you see a song and are like hey this should be somewhere else the answer is probably no although there may have been mistakes. Unless there is a repeat of a song somewhere or the artist shows up on another list they are meant to be here. Check out the other lists here.

Morituri te salutant - Karen Kryl

Katayoku No Tori (One-winged bird) - Akiko Shikata

The narrative and poetic beauty of the burning out of the brightest stars - Aierie Dragonslayer

Do The Impossible - Lena Raine

MUKANJYO - Survive Said The Prophet

Emlékszem (I Remember) - AWS

Hotel California - The Eagles

Travelers Encore - Andrew Phralpw

Heroine - Dutch Disorder

The Pitiful Children - Be More Chill (Two Rivers Version)

Olkinainen (Straw Woman) - Miljoonasade

Hullu Kukko (Mad Rooster) - Pekko Käppi & K.H.H.L

I’m Glad You’re Evil Too - PinocchioP

Across the Stars - John Williams

Divenire - Ludovico Einaudi

MIRACULOUS | 🦋 HAWK MOTH - THEME SONG 🎵 | Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir - Miraculous Ladybug (Is the version we got in French, no, however the TV show is French so)

On Brulera - Pomme

Ceux qui Revent - Pomme

When Night Becomes Day - Finish Ticket

Sere Nere - Tiziano Ferron

Lake Washington Boulevard - Pinguini Tattici Nucleari

Nonono - Pinguini Tattici Nucleari

Het regent zonnestralen - Acda & De Munnik

Der Strom der Zeit - Peter Maffay

Raison d'être (レーゾンデートル) - E ve

4’33” - John Cage

Dragostea Din Tei - O-Zone

Hush Sally, Hush! - Carpenter Brut

Formidable - Stromae

Cha Cha Cha - Käärijä

Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - Mozart L’Opera Rock

Victime de ma Victoire - Mozart L’Opera Rock

Jugo de Naranja - Spanish food vocabulary song - Señora McPeak Spanish

Forbidden Friendship - John Powell

New Tail - John Powell

New ‘New’ Tail - John Powell

Stoick’s Ship - John Powell

Once There Were Dragons - John Powell