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queenxxxsupreme · 3 years ago

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A Reunion of Sorts (dad!Arthur Morgan x reader)

A/N: Daisy’s middle name is not May! Daisy May is just something John calls her! I have a great aunt who always called my little sister Maddie May even though May was not her middle name. That great aunt always used May as a sort of middle name for my sister and a couple other cousins and I thought it was cute. Find the rest of dad!Arthur Morgan AU on my masterlist here!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none really, all game canon related

Additional Note: Lupine Valley Ranch is Arthur and Y/N’s ranch/home/farm. We already know Beecher’s Hope is John and Abigail’s. And Lone Paradise is Charles and Lucy’s home/ranch/farm.

***

You rubbed your eyes, struggling to stay awake. The night air was just a little chilly but you wore one of Arthur’s jackets to keep you warm.

Cicadas and frogs chirped from the woods that surrounded your home. Occasionally, you’d hear a coyote yip or a raccoon chitter and the underbrush would rustle, stirring you just long enough to make your eyes widen. But then you’d start to drift off to sleep on the porch once more.

“Go on to bed, Y/N.” Arthur insisted, moving to your chair. He was standing at one end of the porch, eyes set on the drive that led to your home. Every once in a while, he’d glance over to you and see your head bobbing as you tried to fight off sleep.

“No, no.” You shook your head, swatting his hands away as he tried to grab your hands or wrists to pull you to your feet. “I want to stay awake until they get here.”

“I can wake ya up when they get here.”

“You won’t wake me up.”

“Y/N, there’s no sense in you bein’ awake.”

“I want to make sure everyone is well and comfortable tonight.”

He continued to try to take your hands but you stubbornly refused to let him grab you, knowing he could easily pull you to your feet and haul you off to bed.

“Arthur Morgan, I want to stay out here with you!”

“What if I don’t want to carry your ass back to bed?” He raised a brow, his tone teasing as he looked down at you. He braced himself on either arm of your chair and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Just go to bed, woman.”

“No.” You closed your eyes as you leaned against him, only meaning to do so for a few moments. But your eyelids were so heavy that it was a struggle to open them.

“Pumpkin-,”

“Shut up, Arthur. You’re just tryin’ to get me to go to bed so you can leave and go cause all sorts of trouble you don’t need to be causing.”

“I would never do such a thing.”

“Something’s coming down the road.” Hosea spoke from the other side of the porch.

You stood to your feet, following Arthur to where Hosea stood. You placed your hand on his forearm, watching the light from a wagon.

“That’s them.” Arthur picked up his hat from an end table on the porch.

***

You stood out in the hallway watching as John placed a sleeping Grace down in Daisy’s bed. Daisy was wide awake in your room, pouting and upset that Grace was asleep. She wanted to play, but you told her that with it being so late Grace would probably be asleep.

“Thank you again for lettin’ us stay here, Y/N.” Abigail placed her hand on your arm.

“It’s safer for you to be up here.” You gave her a little smile.

“Uncle Johnny!”

“Shh, Daisy May.” John turned his attention to Daisy, who slipped out of your bedroom.

“Uncle Johnny, when will Grace be awake?” Daisy tugged on his jacket.

“It’s past midnight, girly.” John knelt down to be at Daisy’s level. “You should be sleeping.”

Daisy scrunched up her nose at him.

“I’ve gotta go help your daddy outside.” John ruffled her hair and stood up.

“Can I come with you? You can see Piper!”

“Now’s not the time for that, Daisy.” You put your hand on her head. “Uncle John and Aunt Abigail want to get to bed, I’m sure. If you want to go out and help Uncle John bring their things inside, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the help.”

“Course not. Come on, Daisy May.”

You and Abigail watched the duo make their way down the hall.

“How has John been since he saw Micah?” You started towards the kitchen with Abigail behind you.

“He’s been angry and on edge. He hasn’t been able to sleep none. I haven’t either. It’s hard to sleep when you know Micah Bell is nearby.”

“Well you all are safe now. I don’t reckon he’s dumb enough to come up here.” Hosea joined you both in the kitchen.

“Depends on how desperate he is for that Blackwater money.” You went to stand at the kitchen sink. From there, you could look out towards the barn. You could only see that the barn doors were open and there was light coming from inside.

“I hoped we had left this all behind ten years ago.” Abigail rubbed her eyes and then brushed her messy hair back. “We’ve worked so hard to get away from that. John’s worked so hard to change.”

“We all have.” Hosea reminded her. “That was the only life we ever knew. It wasn’t easy making what we’ve got now. But that’s why we aren’t gonna roll over and give Micah what he wants.”

You watched as Arthur emerged from the barn with Daisy on his shoulders. John, Jack, and Uncle were right behind them.

“I just don’t want anyone hurt.” You murmured. “We’ve got too much on the line this time.”

***

The Next Morning

Arms wrapped around you from behind. A smile slipped across your lips. You leaned back against your husband. He kissed the back of your head, rubbing your side with one hand.

“You’re up early.”

“Someone’s gotta feed everybody.” You hummed, looking over your shoulder to him.

“You didn’t sleep any last night either.”

“Neither did you.” You pointed out.

He tightened his grip on you, arms holding you firmly against his body as he buried his nose in your hair.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“Obviously it’s something.”

You tried to move out of his arms but he refused to let you go.

“Arthur, I’ve got to–,”

“Can you just hold on a second?” He moved to stand next to you, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“I’ve got to get breakfast made before the kids wake up, Arthur.”

“Stop messing with the breakfast, pumpkin.” He took your hands and pulled you away from the stove. “You were tossing and turning all night.”

“You know why.” Your voice was low as you held his gaze. “All this talk about Micah coming for Hosea, for us…. I can’t help but get upset and anxious. I’m bound to lose sleep over it. And the only thing that can help me keep my cool is making sure the kids are taken care of and that everyone here has something to eat.”

“We don’t even know yet if he is comin’ for us.” Arthur shook his head. “It’s all just speculation.”

“It would be naive of us to assume he wouldn’t.”

“But it’d be too soon to assume he was. There hasn’t been any signs to point that he was. All John saw was Micah in Blackwater and John movin’ him and Abigail and the kids up here to Lupine Valley is just a precautionary measure.” Arthur brushed his hands up and down your arms. “We gotta take this one step at a time. If we start getting ahead of ourselves and losing it too soon, we’ll just…. Well, bad things will happen.”

You nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“Why don’t we go out to the porch for a minute? Just for some fresh air?”

“But the breakfast, Arthur.”

“The breakfast can sit here and simmer for a minute.” He put his hand on the small of your back and began to guide you towards the front door.

The two of you went out to the front porch and sat on the porch swing. Arthur kept his arm around you while you rested your head on his shoulder. He moved the swing back and forth just a bit.

“You know, I almost forgot how much you used to do this.” His voice was low and quiet.

“Do what?”

“Worry. You worry now, but this…. This is a different kind of worry. The kind that I always thought would give ya a heart attack or something.” He smiled a little at the memories that came flooding back from his time with the Van Der Linde gang. “Every time I went out, I knew you’d be nothin’ but a case of worry and fret.”

“‘Cause I wasn’t sure if you’d come back to me whole or…. Or missing something or even if you’d come back at all.” You murmured. “I used to drive everyone mad at camp. Always had to keep busy when you were gone. Chores with the girls or with Mr. Pearson. I couldn’t sit still. Not until you came back.”

“And then when I’d come back, you’d sleep for hours and hours.” Arthur looked down at you. “You never slept when I was gone.”

“No, I didn’t.” You shook your head, smiling a little. “But that was the good thing about camp. There was always something to do.”

Arthur nodded his head. Silence fell between you both. The sound of morning birds filled the air. But in the distance, Arthur could hear hooves against the dirt road.

“Stay here a minute.” He muttered under his breath as he stood from the swing.

Your brows furrowed together and you leaned forward, wanting to follow him.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s coming down the road.” He went to the edge of the porch and paused for a moment.

You moved to stand just behind him, your hand coming up to his back. A horse came into sight a few moments later. It was a familiar one, dark in color with a familiar rider.

Arthur smiled as Sadie stopped the horse just in front of the porch.

“I didn’t reckon you folks would be up so early.”

“Well, we’ve got a full house right now.” Arthur nodded. “We can talk about it inside.”

“Have you had a long trip, Sadie?” You asked her. “I’m afraid your room is occupied right now but Daisy is in mine and Arthur’s bed if you’d like to rest.”

“I can rest later. Who are your guests?” She tilted her head to the side a bit.

“John and his family.” Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There might be trouble in Blackwater.”

***

“I haven’t heard anything about Micah being this close. Is John sure he saw Micah?”

“He’s positive.” Arthur nodded his head.

“I’ve been keeping a watchful eye on the papers. Wherever he and his new band go, they always turn up in the papers. I haven’t seen anything close to West Elizabeth in a few years.” Sadie shook her head, lifting her cup of coffee to her lips.

“Somehow the standard snuck through.” Arthur muttered, moving towards the window behind the kitchen sink.

“Maybe he’s traveling with a lighter gang now so he won’t make so much commotion.” You thought out loud.

“That would be unfortunate for us.” Sadie sighed. “Well, I hope you don’t mind one more guest.”

“Of course not.” Arthur shook his head, turning to lean against the sink.

“But we are running out of room here.” You frowned. “John and Abigail are staying in your room and Daisy’s sleeping in our room while Jack and Grace get Daisy’s room.”

“And Uncle insists on sleeping out in the hayloft.” Arthur added with a shake of his head. “Old bastard can still make it up the ladder somehow. But I know Charles and Lucy have room over at Lone Paradise.”

“Do they know about Micah?”

“Yeah.” Arthur messed with the brim of his hat.

“How’s Charles taking it?” Sadie shifted around in her seat so she could see Arthur a bit better.

“He’s on edge, like all of us are. Lucy’s gonna have her baby soon. Last thing we need is Micah Bell”

“Nothin’s gonna happen to Lucy or that baby.” Sadie assured him, shaking her head as she stood to her feet. “I’m gonna walk around y’all’s property a bit then make my way over to Lone Paradise. I’ll bounce back and forth between here and there. You’re separated by a few acres, right?”

“From the house here headin’ west for thirty acres there’s a big oak with an old wagon sittin’ there. That’s where my property ends and his begins. Keep goin’ west for another ten acres and you’ll come up on his barn first. His house is just beyond that.” Arthur explained.

“It’s quicker that way than it is going the road.” You added. “There’s a trial to follow too so you shouldn’t get lost. We use it often.”

Sadie nodded and began to head for the door.

“Be safe out there, Sadie.”

She turned back to look at Arthur before leaving.

As the front door closed, he let out a soft breath.

“Feels better havin’ her here.”

You nodded in agreement, standing to your feet.

“I don’t think we’ve had everyone here since…. Well, since Daisy was sick three years ago.”

“Sure feels like a long time ago.” Arthur mumbled quietly. “It’s funny how time passes but things still…. Things are the same.”

“How so?” You cocked your head to the side a bit as you came to stand in front of your husband. You placed your hand on his stomach, looking up at him.

“Micah was the problem back then, and he’s the problem still.”

You pressed your lips together as your eyes lowered to the buttons of his shirt.

“There were a lot of problems back then, Arthur. Micah was just….” You trailed off, unable to think of the right words.

“He was the root of it all.”

Something moved out of the corner of your eyes. You turned your head to see Daisy standing in the edge of the kitchen. She held in one hand a stuffed bear Hosea had bought her when she was a baby. Carson was right beside her. Her free hand held on to the back of his neck. There were tears in her eyes and her cheeks were damp.

“Sweetpea.” Arthur moved away from you so that he could kneel down in front of your daughter. “What happened? What’s got you in tears so early in the mornin’?”

“Had a bad dream.” She sniffled. He used his thumbs to gingerly wipe the tears away. His hands appeared so big as he tenderly cupped her cheeks. “I think I accidentally kicked Carson when I was sleeping.”

Arthur looked down at Carson, who wagged his tail and nosed at Arthur’s arm.

“Was he layin’ at your feet? I know he likes to do that to watch over you while you sleep.”

“Yeah. I-I woke up and he yipped real loud.” Daisy’s voice hitched in her throat. “Did I hurt him daddy?”

“Where do you think you kicked him, sweetpea?” Arthur kept one hand on Daisy’s side while his other rubbed along Carson’s back and then down each of his legs.

“I think his chest. Do you think he’s gonna be scared of me, daddy?”

“Don’t be silly, sweetpea.”

“Carson knows you didn’t do it on purpose, Daisy.” You moved to be next to them.

“I don’t think he’s hurt.” Arthur shook his head. “Think you might’ve just surprised him, sweetpea.”

Daisy stepped closer to Arthur, burying her nose in his neck. He rubbed her back and kissed the side of her head.

“It’s still early, sweetpea. You wanna go back to bed? I’ll lay down with you.”

“No. I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Are you hungry? I’ve got breakfast almost done.” You brushed your hand along Arthur’s shoulder before turning back to the stove.

“Yeah, I am.”

“After bit here, you can go wake up Uncle John and Aunt Abigail.” Arthur stood up and in the same motion picked Daisy up. He took her over to the table and placed her down in a chair. “Guess who will be here later on today, sweetpea?”

“Who?”

“Aunt Sadie.”

Daisy’s eyes lit up.

“Really? She’s here!”

“No, well not yet.” Arthur rubbed Daisy’s shoulder. “She’s over at Uncle Charles’s and Aunt Lucy’s. After while, she’ll be coming over here.”

“It’s been forever since I seen her last!”

“I know. It’s gonna be an exciting day.”

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#dad!arthur morgan #dad!arthur morgan x reader #dad!arthur morgan series #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan fic #oneshot

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crossbows-and-moonshine · 5 years ago

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Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 11)

I love you guys so much. I can’t get over the love I’ve gotten from this fic. I love it when guys talk to me, not even just about the story, just chatting and stuff. You’re all awesome! Feel free to come say hi!

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“I fuckin’ swear, if ya’ll don’t stop with the bullshit right now, I’m gonna stop this damn truck!” Daryl yelled exasperatedly, glaring at Charlene and Merle who turned their eyes to him looking like scolded children. Things had been somewhat better with the pair, Merle wasn’t strangling her and neither of them were particularly nasty to each other. But it didn't stop them from bickering like kids. This time over the last can of peaches. There was plenty of other shit to eat, but of course they were fighting over this.

“But Daryl, peaches are my favourite,” Charlene sighed sadly, her plump lower lip jutting out as she turned her shiny eyes on him, batting those long lashes. For a few seconds, he couldn't even tear his eyes away, despite the fact he was driving and needed to watch where he was going. She was sat between him and Merle and from this close, he could see all the orange flecks in her green eyes.

“Oh come on! Don't be lettin’ her fool ya with her feminine wiles now brother, that's just fuckin’ cheatin’ right there!” Merle protested. Daryl watched as Charlene looked to Merle, a sly smirk spreading across her face. Daryl snorted, shaking his head as he looked back out on the road and continued to drive, but then the fucking bickering started up again.

Daryl slammed on the breaks, putting his right arm out to catch Charlene so she didn't conk her head on the dash again this time as the truck came to a halt.

“Ya know what?! Ain’t none of ya'll gettin’ the damn peaches, they're mine now,” Daryl huffed, snatching the can from his brother's unsuspecting hands and stashing it in his side of the truck. Merle squinted at him whilst Charlene's mouth gaped open, looking at him sadly. He couldn’t look, he would cave, he knew he would. Fuck, maybe when they found somewhere to rest up he might just share them with her when Merle wasn't looking.

“But Daryl-” she started, nothing but shiny eyes and a sad fucking face.

“Nope, not happenin’. Now both of ya shut the fuck up so we can figure out where we’re stayin’ tonight,” Dary huffed, looking a mix between somewhat amused and annoyed. Silence finally descended on the truck and it was fucking heavenly as Daryl started driving again.

The trip to Atlanta had been put on hold for the moment. They had been driving for a few days now, Merle and Daryl taking shifts behind the driver's wheel, but on one occasion, when Daryl was sleeping, Merle fucking got them lost somehow. Daryl didn't even know where the fuck they were. So for now, they were trying to find somewhere to hole up for the night. Sleeping in the truck was getting fucking annoying. He took a random turn, because why the fuck not, it wasn't like they could get any more lost at this point, and it seemed they had found a fancy part of town. The houses seemed to get bigger the more up the road they went, with their high walls and high tech gates. Daryl felt a bitter scoff work its way out of his mouth, the jealousy he always had at the people with better lives than he had making itself known. And apparently, he wasn't the only one.

“Well look the fuck at this shit. Bet these assholes all had maids and sipped on Don Perrydnon all damn day,” Merle huffed with a glare. Charlene’s nostrils flared as she tried not to laugh and it only got harder not to when Daryl looked at his brother incredulously.

“It’s Dom Pérignon asshole,” he snorted, shaking his head.

“Oh well excuse the fuck outta me for not talkin’ French!” Merle sneered, throwing his hands up in defeat. Charlene covered her mouth trying to stifle her laughter and Daryl felt a warm feeling spread through his chest at the noise.

“I don't talk French neither but I know how to fuckin’ pronounce it,” Daryl smirked, only serving to make his brother growl at him.

“They're probably all dead anyway,” Charlene piped up with a shrug. Both brothers turned to look at her, both looking somewhat equally horrified.

“The fuck happened to you? Ya used to be all sunshine and rainbows and now ya just a big ball of fuckin’ misery!” Merle asked with a frown. He was right though. She had always been optimistic, and whilst Daryl saw no point in optimism as it never served him well, she balanced them out, always sharing that little bit of hope. Now she was being Miss fucking depressing and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. It was good she was being more realistic, but he always liked the whole sunshine and rainbows bullshit as Merle called it.

“It's true though. People like that, they aren't like you two. They wouldn't know how to survive through this,” she sighed, not looking at the brothers as she glanced out of the windows to the huge houses.

“What about you? We ain’t the only ones alive here,” Daryl muttered from next to her, making her cast a glance at him.

“I’m only alive because of you two. I’d have been dead a long time ago if you hadn't come along,” she said it so casually, like it wasn't a big deal, but Daryl felt his feelings stirring inside of him.

First, the thought she was dead was a fucking depressing one. One he didn't want to have in his head at all. But the fact she knew, that she appreciated what he and his brother did for her, trying to keep her safe and fed. It made his stomach flip around on him. His mouth seemed to go dry and he couldn't even form words, he just continued to look straight ahead as he drove slowly down the road.

“Shit girlie, I think ya’ve spent way too much time around us. I don't know how I feel about this new outlook on life ya got,” Merle huffed, almost like she had offended him by being so depressing. She just snorted with a shrug. It was just the way the world was now. She’d learnt a lot over the past few weeks and she realised she had to adjust the way she saw the world.

“The fucks that?” Daryl muttered, eyes narrowing as he stopped the truck at the side of the road.

“Is that a ...treehouse?” Charlene asked, like it was absurd to even ask such a thing.

“Looks like it,” Merle said, leaning closer to the window so he could see. Daryl chewed his thumb as he looked at it. It wasn't a typical treehouse, like the one a loving parent would build for their kid to play in. It was one of those huge ones that the fancy folk would spend a shit tonne of money on, just so they could seem like they were at one with nature. It was poking out from behind one of the houses, and Daryl glanced around. The house was surrounded by high walls and a big gate, it looked secure. He was considering the possibility of using the treehouse to stay in for a bit. Atlanta was on hold, they were lost and they weren't about to wear themselves down driving through the night every night like they had been doing. Finding somewhere to rest up and just chill for a damn minute was the priority right now. The treehouse, or fucking tree mansion in Daryl's opinion, would be perfect. It was high up, no chance of the dead getting up to them. And the walls were another barrier to stop the dead from getting in. The only issue was, if any of the dead were already in there, it meant they weren't getting out either.

Daryl and Merle locked eyes, a sly grin working its way onto the older brothers face as he hopped out of the truck, making sure he had his knife and gun.

“Wait, what?” Are we...are we going in there?” she asked nervously, her eyes landing on Daryl as he grabbed his bow. He felt like he could feel her anxiety from a mile away and he didn't really blame her. Places other than the truck hadn't been good to her so far. The fucking cabin with the assholes he and his brother had to kill, the store where the herd of the dead separated them. It seemed the idea of leaving the safety of the truck where they couldn't get separated was scary to her.

“It could be good. It's up high, big walls. C’mon,” his tone left no room to argue as he got out, looking at her expectantly before she climbed out too. She out got the knife Merle had given her and Daryl eyed it a little. Merle had apparently given it to her when they had been separated from Daryl. To her, it probably just seemed like a knife, nothing more. But Daryl knew the story behind it. He knew the knife was a gift to Merle from their grandfather. Daryl had only been a very young boy then but he remembered just how excited his big brother had been. The fact that Merle had given her that knife, it only reminded him of the words his brother told him, about how she was good for him, how Merle actually liked her.

He knew he shouldn't but he felt the pang of envy again. It was a good thing Merle was looking out for her. The morning after the cabin incident, Merle had taken her outside after a nightmare, teaching her some moves with a knife to make her feel better. But he couldn't help but regret not getting there first. Why hadn’t he been the one to teach her that? Or to give her his knife? He contemplated teaching her how to use a bow, maybe getting her a little one or a compound bow. When he really thought about it, there were a lot of things he and Merle could teach her. Things that people might have deemed worthless before the turn, but now could be the difference between life and death.

The three of them reached the walls and stood still, being quiet to listen for any noises but there weren't any. Merle ran, hoisting himself up on the wall and sitting on it as his eyes scanned the giant back yard where the huge fucking treehouse was.

“Aint nothin’ out here I can see,” he muttered, looking down at Daryl. Daryl's eyes flit around the floor until they landed on a rock, he picked it up and threw it over the wall. The noise of it hitting the floor echoed a little and they all waited on bated breath, but yet again, no sound came. It felt too good to be true, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Merle jumped down onto the other side of the wall and Daryl bent a little, clasping his hands together to give Charlene a boost.

“Up ya get Tiny,” he smirked wryly at her, making her huff and squint playfully. He didn't fail to notice how her cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour though.

She stepped closer to him and it felt like time slowed down as she held onto his shoulders. He was fucking eye level with her crotch and his brain decided now was the perfect time to wonder what kind of underwear she was wearing. Way to be a creep, ya fuckin’ weirdo. He hoisted her up and she scrambled at the top as she climbed over before Daryl followed suit with ease. He glanced around the large yard, there were bikes and a trampoline, other things that made it clear a kid once lived here. His eyes cast over to Charlene and he saw her little furrowed brow as she took in the scene, knowing just what probably happened to the little boy that once occupied the space. He felt bad for her. Daryl had always thought the world was a pile of shit. It had never been good to him and there were monsters roaming around before the dead decided to get up and start eating people. He knew her life had been far from perfect from what he’d heard. Her father becoming a drunk after her mother died, Charlene having to work numerous jobs just to keep their heads above water. But she still seemed so innocent somehow, like she wasn't jaded from the bad hand she got dealt. And every time something seemed to touch a nerve for her now, he felt bad for her. He wanted to shield her from all the bad things in the world, he didn't want her sunshine to fade away any more than it already had.

Merle started walking to the treehouse and he followed suit with the girl by his side. Despite no noise of the dead, Daryl was still alert. He knew better than to get caught with his ass hanging out. The treehouse was pretty high up, a ladder the only way to climb up to it. It was pretty perfect in Daryl's book and it would be a good place to rest up for a bit, maybe they could even scout some of the houses here and see what fancy shit they had to eat.

“I wonder if they got any of that Don Peganon,” Merle mused as he looked up the ladder. Charlene let out an elegant snort as Daryl shook his head again.

“Dom Pérignon, Jesus Merle,” He huffed a laugh, loving how Charlene was trying to hold in her laughter.

“Eh whatever,” Merle scoffed before holstering his gun as he started to climb up the ladder first. Putting himself first in case of any danger that could be lurking there. Daryl gestured with his head for her to follow and she smiled at him before complying. No doubt thinking he was being a gentleman or some shit. A fuckin’ gentleman that wants to watch her fuckin’ ass. He tried not to look, he really did, but he couldn't help but watch her heart-shaped ass as she climbed up the ladder. He inhaled a deep breath to steady himself before climbing up after her. His dick needed to reign in the fuck in, shit was getting ridiculous.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon writing #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #Merle Dixon

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rallytheskulls · 5 years ago

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Now what kinda hellish day has this been...

It’d been PW’s day off at first and it’d been awhile since his last one. He’d taken the chance to enjoy some TV after ages of not doin it, only to catch a commotion around the little colorbox they had left. Everyone was hollering and shouting about something and before long PW surfed his way through his brothers and sisters on the couch.

To what they were all rootin on about took a second for PW to realize. It looked just like a normal display of Alola onscreen for the time bein, until the camera jerked upwards. An on screen...were one of those accursed things again. PW had seen them before, but only for a moments time; as they were simply gone within the moment. But this one was proudly displaying itself for once and it seemed to have a...saddening reason for doing so. For out crawled beasts and creatures PW had yet to see...personally. He knew about this stuff, he’d done some research but goodness he wasn’t prepared for it to happen this way.

That was the least of his worries.

Immediately after, he was shouting out orders once he’d gotten the jist of the report. How had nobody else told him? Seemed that the bosses had started doin somethin already; though why wouldn’t he have been informed...? This was huge! Something...something terrible...to be honest.

“ Alright you buncha numbskulls, listen UP! This ain’t no time to be panicking or to hide. We gotsa family to protect and folks to lookout for. If yer strong enough to consider defending against what we saw, you rally up with me skulls. The rest of ya; start preparin for the recovering. Needin atleast a team of six of ya in the Pkmn Center once this shite really hits the fan. Nobody is slackin today or your gonna have me to answer to. The bosses are already in motion an would proper pissed if they knew this where y’all were. ”

His tone was harsh; but for good reason. He knew how Skulls were, he’d been around long enough. He hated shouting really, but it was the only way to really grab a room of their attention sometimes. Good thing too, for the assault on Po Town wasn’t...quick by any means. Bein as in that very few of the creatures known to be attacking the region actually appeared. Though despite this, each one was a challenge by far. Some were easier defeated then others...but overall it felt strangely...doable? Each battle let a cry of cheers from local Skulls while PW sighed happily with Sejana and Lijo at his side.

“ Y’all have been incredible so far. Don’t go lettin up now though, keep yerselves ready. ” His Pokemon somewhat shrugging him off, knowing full well that this wasn’t over. PW knew that they were aware, but he felt better saying it aloud. The rain had played a good part in all this as well, seeming to dampen the chances of finding the other types of creatures somewhat?

Despite each victory...an each person that came by to ask for sanctuary from the threat...something here felt hollow. It’s like they weren’t really winning. But that’s not something Pate could think about now, his family came first. He’d be damned if he let anything happen to them. He just hoped his bigger Alolan family was doing alright...all those friends out there as well; the champions and trial captains. Y’all stay safe alright?

These felt like dark days were ahead.

#On the lookout || IC #Watchmans Journal || Drabbles #The Rain Keeps Pouring Down... || Long Posts #[plot: brightest day]#(Mhm; PW has his hands full in Po Town.)#(I've seen some folks consider it as a safe place; so please do come by!)#(We'll do our best; even if we're abuncha numbskulls.)

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axispheydra · 5 years ago

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Prompt 14 - Ransack

“This here’s Orara Ora, newest member of the Scarlet Skies. Now, I know she ain’t what we’re used to, but-”

“Oi, Ganzeidin! Didn’t know we was so desperate as to hire a Lalafell!” A Miqo’te at the front of the gathered crowd began to laugh at his own comment.

“Shut it, Ibe’ir!” snarled the Roegadyn. “I’d gladly trade your sorry arse for someone half as good a shot as she is! I’ve seen what she can do, and we’re damn lucky to have her, especially after that... that disaster in the Spawning Grounds.”

The group went silent for a moment, some members hanging their heads. Hastswys had told Orara the details of what had happened several weeks ago, and while the Roegadyn had simply called it bad luck, Orara thought there were several issues in how they conducted themselves during combat. Then again, she might have been the only one with real military experience.

She shook the thoughts away as Ganzeidin spoke again. “Anyroad, we all know things are gonna have to be a bit different for now. Until we’re back to a proper size, we ain’t gonna be joinin’ in on any serious military contracts. Keep it simple an’ safe until we can afford to do otherwise. You follow? If you ain’t sure, just use your linkpearl. Dismissed.”

None of the assembled members of the Skies seemed eager to leave, and most began to mill around and speak to one another. They weren’t an especially large company at this point, only around two dozen individuals, all mostly Roegadyn and Hyur, with a few Miqo’te and a single Au Ra. She thought Ganzeidin did a well enough job at commanding them- he spoke with confidence and they listened, but what had happened at the Sahagin’s Spawning Grounds spoke of some kind of weakness, she thought.

“Orara, c’mere,” grunted Ganzeidin. “We got a few other things to clear up.”

With her gaze lingering on the other members of the company, she followed her new commander’s voice to his side. “If you don’t mind me asking, how many did your Company have-”

“More’n fifty,” he answered. “Lost a lot of good folk that day, including my second-in-command. That’s why I’m trying to make sure they don’t go runnin’ off and doin’ anything bloody stupid. But stupid runs in the veins here in Limsa, that’s why I don’t mind takin’ on someone from Ul’dah like yerself. I just hope you continue to impress me.”

The short contact she’d been taken on the prior day had been more than enough to earn the leader’s trust, or at least enough of it to allow her entry into the company. Part of her was thankful the practice of machinistry simply hadn’t had the chance to spread further, or else they might not have been as impressed.

“If it happens, it won’t be from lack of trying,” she said.

“Like I said, I don’t tolerate that kind of thing in my crew. Even Ibe’ir over there earns his keep by bein’ a crack shot with a bow, though his head’s got more holes than a sunk ship.” Ganzeidin folded his arms, giving a short sigh as he looked over what was left of his Free Company. “A free company is like a family, Orara. Long as you ain’t slackin’ off, you’ll find your place. Though a lass like you might have to contend with a few cracks at your expense.”

Orara knew that they likely wouldn’t respect her until she had done something to prove herself in their eyes, and that was something she had come to expect in Limsa; there simply weren’t enough Lalafell here for the people to understand what they were capable of.

She didn’t remain long after Ganzeidin handed her her new linkpearl, and some of the members likely had things to say about that, too.

The pearl rang early the next morning while Orara was still recovering from the boat ride over to Limsa. “Sergeant Orara Ora, reporting,” she mumbled, still mostly asleep.

Ganzeidin’s voice came through the other end. “Sergeant who? The hells are you talkin’ about, Orara?”

“Sorry,” she said, forcing herself into an upright position. “It’s a habit. I didn’t expect anything this early.” It wasn’t even six bells yet.

“Gotta be quick to grab some of these contracts, Orara. I ain’t plannin’ on lettin’ the Scarlet Skies go belly up anytime soon, so we need work now more than ever. And for your sake, I gotta make sure you got somethin’ to do so the others don’t think I’m bein’ daft for lettin’ you on.”

Already, Orara was gathering up her clothes and tying up her hair into tight buns. “I understand. Where do you need me to go?”

“You’ll meet me and Ibe’ir outside the Zephyr Gate. Normally we’d meet at an aetheryte, but somethin’ tells me you ain’t gone around and attuned yourself to ‘em yet. Lucky for you, neither has he. So we’ll take the long way up north.”

“I’ll be there shortly, sir,” she said, reaching for her gun.

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped. “Just be quick, alright?”

She was outside the gate in under ten minutes, and found Ganzeidin and Ibe’ir already waiting for her there. “Ah, look who decided to show up!” called the Miqo’te as she approached. “I half-expected you to be on the first ship back to the mainland with your tail between your legs.”

“You’re the only one here with a tail,” she said, not sparing him a glance. “I’m sorry for taking so much time,” she said to Ganzeidin. “I don’t know my way around Limsa Lominsa just yet.”

“It’s fine,” he said, already turning away from her. “Here’s the situation. Some supply lines have been suffering attacks from some of the local beast tribes up north, mostly Kobolds. Maelstrom’s lookin’ for tunnels, but they need folks to guard the caravans as they travel. Should be simple work, but we’ve got a ways to go, and I want to get there before the sun’s up, if possible. So let’s get going, then.” He began to walk down the road, with Ibe’ir following behind.

Orara frowned. “You don’t have chocobos?”

Ibe’ir rolled his eyes. “These Ul’dah folks think money like that just grows on trees, eh? Chocobos are a bit harder to come by here in Vylbrand, lassie, since you gotta work harder for your gil.”

“The Immortal Flames gave me mine,” she said, glaring at him. “I worked plenty hard for it.”

Usually a sharp stare and a stern voice worked on people like that, but Ibe’ir just laughed, elbowing the Rodegadyn in the side.“Temper on this one, eh Ganze? Maybe she’ll fit in after all.”

“I’ll buy you a damn chocobo if it means I have to listen to you prattle for just a minute less,” he growled.

It wasn’t too far off from the feel of the barracks back in Ul’dah, she thought. People got to know each other, and they bantered back and forth until someone in command told them to be quiet for once. The familiarity of it made her feel...

Melancholy, for some reason.

As Orara began to follow after the others, shaking the thoughts from her head, she was suddenly aware of a sharp sensation on her head, followed by another, and another. She looked up, only to be struck by a drop in the eye. It took her a few panicked moments to realize what it was.

The raindrops were fat and warm, and came down in droves without warning. Ahead, she could hear Ganzeidin curse his luck and Ibe’ir call back at her.

“What’s the hold up, Ul’dah lass? Never seen rain before in Thanalan?”

“Not like this,” she said, quietly. Orara held her hand out, watching the rain splash on her palm. In Thanalan, it rained so rarely, and what rivers and streams there were almost always had a town nearby them. It was odd to think that here, water would be so easy to come by.

She resisted the urge to drink from her palm, instead shaking the water away and sprinting to catch up to the other two.

#FFxivWrite2019 #orara ora #writing #ff14

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badgerpride96 · 5 years ago

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A Wild West Experience Part 9

*Crawls out of Black Lagoon* I’m alive I promise. This took me so long to write and type, but it’s here now and I’ll be posting a snippet of Part 10 because I’ve been silent for so long!

Gio arrived at the office the next day, woke Jones up, and made coffee. The two men chatted, as always, but something was off, missing. Jones went on his way, Gilbert trotting ahead. Gio paced a bit, drank his coffee and read some claims.

It hit him. There was no noise above him. No rustling, pacing - nothing. It was too peculiar; the sheriff went to check at the door. He quietly mounted the stairs, and upon not hearing anything at all, knocked. The door swung open - the room was empty.

The sheriff’s stomach dropped to his knees. He could only assume she’d run, that he’d been so very wrong. He clattered back down the stairs to the storage safe. All her weapons were still there. The sheriff spun on his heels and clutched his hands behind his head. Maybe he’d miscalculated, and the opposing sheriff had nabbed her.

“Persephone,” he muttered to himself. There was no time to call Sam. Gio snatched his hat up. However, as he threw open the door, he nearly collided with Sam himself.

“Lord, Sam!” Gio pulled the young man to his feet.

“I’ve a message, sheriff, urgent!”

“Sam, unless it’s about Miss Rose, I don’t have-”

“It is!” Sam gasped, rubbing his chest. “It is about Miss Rose.”

This actually surprised the sheriff. He checked, almost stumbling again. “Oh. Well let’s hear it then.”

“Sass was wantin to let you know that Miss Rose is currently sleepin at the Goose.”

“At the Goose?”

“Yes Sheriff. He sends his apologies if you were worryin, but he kept her there after they both had a bit too much t’drink, y’see,” Sam rattled off.

Gio was trying to reconcile his mind to this significantly calmer turn of events. “At the Goose,” he muttered again. “Astounding.”

Any reply, Sheriff?” Sam sam asked, hopping from one foot to the other.

“Ah, right. Sam, send back that I’ve gotten the message, and I’ll be droppin round bouts when Jones relieves me tonight. No need for Miss Rose to come here, she can stay at the Goose today.”

Sam took off again. Gio shook himself and looked out across General St. and Main. It had continued to be hot, but he sensed a wind today. A hot, dry wind that makes you anxious and afraid as it howls, that churns itself into dust devils, that leaves anger and dust in its wake. Such winds almost never entered Haven. There had been one that lasted a week, the week the War was declared. There had been one right before a prairie fire had decimated the outskirts of Haven. Gio felt one now, rustling its breezes, creeping along the streets.

Gio took a deep breath, nodded once, and turned his back on the hot wind.

At just about 5:00, Jones arrived. Gio had been uneasy all morning, and thus was itching to leave. He had taken several turns of the town, meeting with people and receiving claims. But by 2:00, no one wanted to be outside, and he retreated to the office.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Jones asked as Gio hastily grabbed his hat and raised the horse screen.

“The Goose,” was all he got in reply.

“I don’t blame ye, it’s blisterin out there, and now there’s a wind!”

“Ye don’t say,” Gio thought as he pulled Gigi around and set off for the bar. He barely hitched Gigi before running up the stairs.

Kelly was behind the bar, laughing at something Owen was saying. She was back in her dungarees and a shirt, which looked strikingly like Sass’s favorite. Sass himself was pouring beer. Gio went to the end of the bar, leaning on the counter expectantly in the universal “we need to talk” stance. Elek nodded at him, slid the pint down the bar to its grateful customer, and came over.

“Late night?” Gio asked with a touch of irritation in his voice.

Sass narrowed his eyes. “Yes. If you’re thinkin I should have sent a note late night, I was in no fit state to be contactin anyone. I’m sorry you were worried. But she was safe with me.”

“It’s not just her safety, Sass. She’s still an outlaw. She’s wearing your shirt, for God’s sake! Tell me you didn’t-”

“Gio,” Elek said, half angry and half amused. “Tell me you know me better than that. She’s wearin my shirt because she didn’t have one with her and didn’t wish to wear the same dress.”

Gio stared his best friend in the eye for several seconds, then sighed. “I do know you. Just, for God’s sake, send a note or wake Sam or ride your damn horse over next time. I was panicin.”

Sass gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re the boss.”

“Damn straight.” Gio leaned in, making sure Kelly was heartily engaged in telling Owen an adventure of hers. “What did happen?”

“Nothin. We had some drinks, which I admit were...exaggerated, we did some talkin; she fell asleep and I carried her upstairs. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Gio searched Elek’s face for any sign Elek was hiding something. Sass stared him down with a straight face.

Then, so small Gio almost missed it, Sass smiled. “That’s all. I wan’t unsavory.”

Gio let him go and settled in next to Owen. Kelly nodded to him, took a beer order, then came over.

“I’m awfully sorry,” she said quietly.

Gio waved away her apology, mostly for decorum’s sake. Owen was trustworthy, but people would ask why the sheriff couldn’t control the one outlaw in his custody, or they would gossip that Sass was colluding with her. No one would believe it, but everyone would say it. “No, it’s alright. Old Fashioned, if you would.” Kelly winced slightly, but made an excellent drink. “You alright?” Gio asked her.

“What? Oh! Yes! Just fine!” The doors of the bar opened, and she looked up smiling. “Admiral! Welcome!”

“Good afternoon, m’lady.” The admiral strolled to a seat on the other side of Owen. “I have a list of witnesses I want to call, I’ll have to write off to them. If you might provide the addresses, I can get them out with the 6:00 mail.” He pulled out a sheaf of paper, and handed it to her.

“Naturally,” she glanced down, nodding. “Sass, can I use your writing desk?”

“Be quick,” Sass said, and she dashed off. She returned only a few minutes later, her tightly curled writing accompanying the admiral’s loopy scrawl. “Here you are, Admiral, I knew my hobby of memorizing lines would come in handy. Remembered them all.”

“Smashing! My dear bartender, may I now take advantage of said writing desk?”

“My office is gettin many attentions, is it?” Elek jerked his head to the office and the Admiral disappeared. “Well then, who wants sausage plates?” Several tables in the bar cheered back, “Right ‘ere!”

The next two hours passed pleasantly enough. This was the hottest day yet, and the wind Gio had noticed had broken cover. Folks came in dusty from hat to boots.

“Is this a hot wind?” Elek muttered to Gio, leaning across the bar.

“‘Fraid so. Clocked it this morning.”

Elek grimaced.

“What’s that you two are whisperin about?” Kelly asked lightly, though she had the grace to ask quietly.

“Hush,” Elek said anyway, bumping her shoulder. Gio flicked his eyes to his friend’s face. The bar girl, having just started her drink at a table in the closest corner, smiled into her glass.

“There’s a hot wind in Haven.” Gio said.

“What’s so secret about a wind?”

“Hot winds bring trouble,” Gio told her quietly, Elek nodding in agreement. “Fires. Fights. Just trouble and always bad.”

Kelly glanced out the window at the sunset. “What’s this one blowin in?”

No sooner had she spoken the question than the doors of the Goose bashed open, hitting the wall and half swinging back again. Several people jumped. Gio and Owen whipped around. The bar girl darted behind the counter. Elek seized Kelly’s hand and pulled her behind him, to her annoyance. Yet when she saw what shadowed the doorway, she went white.

A tall, gaunt man stood in the middle of the doors, a few steps in. His appearance was both hulking and almost sickly. He was pale, but for his dark, sunken eyes. His lips seemed locked in a permanent sneer, just showing his teeth. He was covered in dust, from the soles of his boots to the Sheriff’s star on his chest.

Three more men came in, standing behind him in a V. The farthest one looked at the bar girl and licked his lips. She shuddered, gripping the neck of an empty whiskey bottle behind her back.

Gio and Owen stood in front of Kelly as well, Sass glaring behind them, forming their own barrier. “Sheriff,” Gio said, nodding slightly.

“Sheriff,” Thomas replied, his voice deeply gravelled. He looked past Gio, straight into Kelly’s eyes. “Sister.” His sneer deepened.

“Tom. So you finally caught up.”

“You finally realized you couldn’t run.” He turned back to Gio. “This is foolish, the whole charade of a trial. We all know she killed her husband, just release her to me. Justice will be swift in our dealin.”

Gio brushed his shirt back, and saw the sheriff’s eyes flick to the revolver on Gio’s hip. “All due respect, Sheriff Thomas, you’re in my town now, and this lady is in my custody. The trial will go ahead.”

Thomas stepped closer. “She got to you, didn’t she? You’re all protecting her, but I tell you, her own husband was murdered at the hands of this bloodthirsty bitch.”

At the insult, chairs screeched and every woman (and some of their braver male counterparts) stood up, some yelling objections. Every man, standing or not, made his weapon visible.

Before Gio could say anything, Kelly said loudly, “Call me whatever slurs you want, Tom. I’m not goin with you and they’re not lettin me go anyways. There will be a trial, and we’ll decide this there.”

The Sheriff moved as though to reach for her, but with so many hips glinting, he raised one hand. “Alright now, we’re in agreement. A trial it is, however much of a circus it may be.”

Gio addressed him cordially enough, but did not give any signal to stand down. “We can have rooms prepared for you and your men for the duration-”

“No, thank you, we’d not suppose the...hospitality of Haven. We’ll sleep out in the fields over yonder. Me and my men are well used to campin by now.” Thomas’s men looked as though they may not entirely concur, but they didn’t correct their leader.

“Fine. Come into town for food or water. The trial will begin in two days, soonest the judge can do.” Gio stepped towards the other man, making it clear whatever welcome there had been, was overstayed. The bar girl finally relaxed; she had seen one too many bar fights for her liking. She glanced at Sass, and as he nodded to her, she saw that his hand still grasped Kelly’s. Kelly herself began to come around the bar, following her accuser and releasing Elek’s hand. She and Gio escorted the sheriff and his men out to their horses.

“By the way, Tom,” she said as he swung onto his horse, “you really ought to work on that act of yours.”

He curled his lip at her. “What’s the meaning of that?”

Gio and Sass, having come to the door, watched as she defiantly glared up at the man on the horse.

“Because if you were a better man, a better sheriff, or just plain better at bullshittin, you would’ve remembered that he was not simply my husband. He was your brother, too.”

The smirk vanished and Thomas’s face darkened in anger. He jerked his reins, and galloped out of Haven, Kelly glaring after him.

–

Buy me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/badgerpride

-–

For more Content, check out @contentcreatorshaven or www.contentcreatorshaven.com! We are a creator collective dedicated to helping each other make it in this very crazy world.

#badger scribbles #writing #short story #A wild west experience

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marvel-mistress-padawan · 5 years ago

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Camelot California

Chapter Two

Oh I'm gettin' old and feeble and I cannot work no more

The children no more gather 'round my door

And old masters and old mrs they are sleepin' side by side

Near the little old log cabin in the lane

Oh the chimney's fallen down and the roof's all caved in

Lettin' in the sunshine and the rain

And the only friend I've got now is that good old dog of mine

And the little old log cabin in the lane

Oh the trees have all growed up that lead around the hill

The fences have all gone to decay

And the creeks have all dried up where we used to go to mill

And things have changed of course in another ways

Oh the chimney's fallen down and the roof's all caved in

Lettin' in the sunshine and the rain

And the only friend I've got now is that good old dog of mine

And the little old log cabin in the lane

Oh I ain't got long to stay here what little time I've got

I want to rest content while I remain

'Til death shall call this dog and me to find a better home

And leave th' little old log cabin in the lane

Oh the chimney's fallen down and the roof's all caved in

Lettin' in the sunshine and the rain

And the only friend I've got now is that good old dog of mine

And the little old log cabin in the lane

-Will S. Hays

The song rang out cherily as the stagecoach bumped over the long and winding road. Lucas Walton wasn’t that great of a banjo player. United States Marshals didn’t need to be banjo players after all but Lucas could sing anyhow. The way he saw it, riding on top of the coach while he was transporting a prisoner on a fine day like this one, was as good a time as any to sing. Really, any time at all was a time to sing except that Lucas knew that other folks didn’t see it that way and during those times he could keep quiet for their sake. He finished off his song and heard an applause from within the coach accompanied by the rattling of chains.

“You sure do know how to sing a good tune, Marshall Walton.” Donny called out from inside.

“I do my best,” Lucas said with a smile. “You fellas ought to sing the next one with me.”

“I won’t be doing any singing.” Keith Danvers said sourly. He was the driver and only other companion on this trip. “You two go right on ahead and sing without me. I got better things to do.”

Lucas shook his head at the grisled coach driver. “Alrighty then, you wallow in in your bitterness all you like. Donny and I have some cheer to spread.”

“Cheer to spread? This ain’t Christmas! And what could that boy possibly have to be cheerful about? He’s on his way to prison!” Keith spat his chewing tobacco on the ground.

“Could be he’ll end up in prison. He’s on his way to trial though. The courts will decide what happens to him. That doesn’t mean there isn’t anything to sing about anymore. I know some sad songs too if you think that would be more fitting?”

“I think silence would be more fitting,” Keith said in reply.

“It’s too long a trip to spend it all in silence. I’ll do two more songs though and be quiet for a spell if that suits you,” he said amicably.

Keith gave what sounded like a grunt as a reply while Lucas began another song. At the end of his second song Donny applauded once again.

“How come you know so many songs that I’ve never heard before?” Donny called out.

“Well some of them I learn off of sheet music my sister sends me from back east and most of them are just newly published,” Lucas explained.

“Sheet music?” Donny asked. “You mean those chicken scratch dots that opera singers use? How do you even read that?”

“What the Marshal here is trying to say,” Keith spoke up, “Is that he has more book learning than both of us combined and that’s why his head is full of songs and turds.”

Lucas ignored this attempt at an insult as did Donny. “I only went to school for six years,” Donny said sadly. “I wanted to go longer but Mama needed my help back on the farm.”

“You should have stayed on that farm rather than taking up thieving,” Keith told him.

“I didn’t take the jewels from that lady’s purse. I didn’t!” Donny protested.

Lucas wasn’t sure if that was the truth. The jewelry had been found in Donny’s room after all. The kid’s job at the hotel didn’t pay much and there were a lot of wealthy people that came in and out of that place. Maybe the chance to send some money to his poor family back home had been too much a temptation for Donny. Or maybe one of the other hotel employees pinned the theft on Donny rather than get caught. It seemed unlikely though. Donny probably had stolen the jewels and would probably spend some time in jail for it. Hopefully he’d come out of it having learned to never try something like that again.

“I know a thief when I see one,” Keith was saying. “Good thing judge Harmon hangs thieves like he should. We can be rid of your trouble for good.”

“They’re not gonna hang me are they Marshal?” Donny sounded genuinely worried.

“That would be too harsh. No one needs to die over stealing some necklaces,” Lucas mused aloud.

“Stealing necklaces is where it starts,” Keith argued. “Then it goes on to stealing horses and money. Once they got money they start drinking and once they’re drinking they start killing people. Might as well hang ‘em and be done with it.”

“Are they gonna hang me?” Donny asked again.

“You got it wrong Keith. I don’t disagree that there are times when hanging a man is the right call. Sometimes they’ve done too much violence and are too far gone to be of any use to the world anymore. Those kind of people are few and far between but they do gotta pay for their crimes. The rest of the lawbreakers like Donny here, those ones still have time to change.”

“That’s a load of horsesh-!”

“Are they going to hang me?” Donny interrupted Keith with urgency.

“Judge Harmon is a reasonable man. If I ask him for leniency and for some more time to gather evidence, he’ll listen,” Lucas said.

“You better be right about that,” Donny said, not entirely convinced.

Lucas was about to assure him that it was the truth when a sight ahead in the road got his attention. “Hold up,” he said to Keith.

“Yeah, I see it. Log in the road. You know what that means,” Keith removed his revolver from the holster. Lucas followed suit. “It’s not too big a log. I ain’t gonna get killed by no bandits today.”

“Danvers, don’t do it!” Lucas all but shouted at him. It was too late. Keith Danvers had the horses going full speed ahead. He apparently hoped to get up enough momentum to get the coach wheels over the log.

The horses jumped over the log effortlessly. The front wheels of the coach hit with an impact that broke the wooden wheels on contact. Lucas was thrown from the top of the coach and went tumbling on the ground. He felt something snap in his knee and for a moment everything went dark. When he opened his eyes again, it seemed that only a few seconds had passed. He dragged himself to feet with the help of a nearby tree branch. The coach was on its side and broken. Donny was crawling out the door which now on the top side of the overturned coach. Four gunman came into view. Keith was not in Lucas’ line of sight at all. He seemed to have disappeared, hopefully not pinned underneath the coach. A shot from one of the gunmen hit Donny in the shoulder and the boy fell back down inside the coach.

The second shot did not come from any of the four gunman but from somewhere on the other side of the coach. It had to be Keith doing the shooting. The shot hit one of the bandits in the leg and though the man gave a cry of pain he limped onward looking for cover. Lucas realized that he must have dropped his own gun somewhere during the crash. He had certainly dropped his banjo. It was lying broken not more than ten feet away. He lowered himself to his uninjured knee and ducked down behind a bush. The shrubbery provided very little cover but it did give him a vantage point to watch the situation unfold and try to plan his next move.

Two of the bandits remained on horseback and had begun circling the area around the coach, probably looking for any remaining passengers or the driver. As soon as the shooting began, they dismounted and took cover at the overturned coach along with their injured companion which happened to be on the same side where Lucas was ducked down hiding. It was only a matter of time before they realized he was there. Lucas took a look around for something that could serve as a weapon, a rock maybe? Then he spotted his revolver on the ground right out in the open between himself and the three gunmen. He looked down at his knee. It was now pretty swollen from being twisted in the fall. Even if he could have been quick enough to retrieve his gun before his knee got all busted up, there was no way he could manage it now.

More gunshots rang out and a shout was heard on the far side of the coach before the air fell silent. If he had to guess, Lucas was pretty sure that Keith had taken down the fourth bandit. The three men began to reach around the edge of the coach and fire shots in Keith’s general direction. Something had to be done about all this. Donny was still inside that coach and was there was no way of knowing how badly he was injured. With all the gunshots headed in the direction of the coach it was only gonna get worse.

“I shoulda just been a fisherman,” Lucas muttered to himself. He had never enjoyed being a Marshal and whenever he found himself in tough spots he found himself regretting not taking a more peaceful type of employment.

Then he remembered something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of fishing line with a hook attached. He liked to carry fishing line in case he got the chance to stop over at Laketown. With all the shooting going on, the bandits took no notice of his eleven attempts to hook his revolver on the ground behind them. On the twelve try he managed to hook the weapon and pulled it quickly to himself. He shot two of them in the leg before the third one realized that the shots were coming from behind. That one turned and fired straight at Lucas. The shot missed. The other two men had apparently never been shot before and had dropped their guns and were writhing in agony. The uninjured man was taking aim a second time. Lucas shot first and he didn’t miss.

Two of the bandits were dead and the other two were currently unarmed but their guns lay within reach right next to them. Lucas grabbed the tree branch and pulled himself to stand, keeping his aim towards the injured men. They didn’t fight being arrested and gave up their guns as asked.

“Donny?” Lucas called out while he tied up his prisoners. “You alive in there boy?”

Keith came out of hiding and climbed on top of the overturned coach. He threw open the door and peered down inside. “Give me that there box,” he reached two hands inside and hauled the chest out and placed it next to him on the coach. After that he pulled the kid out and lowered him to the ground.

Donny was bleeding and looked rather shaken up. Keith jumped down from the coach and set to work unhitching the horses. They would have to ride for the remainder of their journey. “That there box is the property of Wells Fargo. It comes with us. Bring it here Donny.”

Donny was shot in the shoulder and though he made a good effort, he could not lift his arms above his head. Keith watched with disgust but made no move to help so Lucas limped over and reached up to pull down the chest. It was far heavier than he expected and between the weight of the chest and the injury to his knee, the Marshal soon found himself flat on the ground pinned beneath the heavy chest. It was in that moment that Donny decided to make a run for it. He supposed he couldn’t blame the kid. Keith had told him he might be hanged and after just barely escaping the bandits with his life, Donny was panicked.

“You yellow bellied little…” Keith muttered and then worked quickly to finish unhitching one of the horses. He mounted and took off after Donny.

Lucas pushed the chest off of himself and followed after them. It took him a while to catch up due to the pain in his knee. He eventually found them, Donny looked like his nose was broken, his left eye was blacked, and he had fresh roped tied around his wrists. Keith was still on horseback and held the end of the rope while Donny walked.

The rest of the journey to the city was sullen. Lucas had done what he could for Donny’s wounds, and had made sure his other two prisoners were tied securely. There were no more songs. His broken banjo was in a bag and Lucas was in one of his rare moods where he actually didn’t want to sing. He dropped off his prisoners at the jail near the courthouse, left Keith Danvers at the Wells Fargo office, and went to see a doctor for his knee.

It was dusk when Lucas finally returned to his little townhouse on the edge of the city. There was mail in the basket on his front steps. Usually his neighbor old Mrs Fisk picked up his mail for him when he was away. And on top of the mail was a telegram message dated for the previous day.

The Bartlett Gang all killed in Davenport shootout with only Ned Bartlett taken alive STOP Sheriff Brett Williams killed in the conflict STOP Davenport renamed Camelot STOP

Lucas didn’t bother to read the rest of the mail. He went inside, took a bottle of whiskey from the pantry, and went straight out the back door into the garden. There weren’t many flowers blooming this time of year. Or maybe they just didn’t grow as well without Emilia to tend them anymore. Lucas went past the dying flowers and shrubbery. He stopped in front of a single gravestone.

Emilia Williams Walton 1841-1870, Beloved wife and mother, Edith Walton 1865-1870, Beloved daughter.

With great effort, Lucas lowered himself down to sit on the ground. The grass was well worn as he had sat in this spot many times before. “Well Emilia, at least you won’t be alone anymore. Your brother will take good care of you. He always did. Better than I could...better than I ever could...”

And Lucas opened the bottle of whiskey with no plans to go back in the house anytime soon.

#western #novel #original story #stagecoach #wells fargo #chapter two

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maplesamurai · 5 years ago

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The Witch’s Apprentice, Ch. 8

It was the morning of the eve of the Winter Solstice. The day had finally come. This was the day that Arthur Butcher would have to leave his home to become the servant of the Witch of the Woods, as his payment for her curing his sister Morgan of the White Plague that past autumn.

The sun above the Butcher family’s farmhouse was slowly ascending to its midday position in the sky when Arthur was suddenly reminded of just what day it was in a way he could not ignore. Arthur had just brought the bags containing his meager belongings out of his room and to the front door before giving a long sigh and nervously ran his fingers through his wheat blonde hair, knowing full well how little time he had left in this house. And it became apparent that he may not even have much time left to do that, when he felt a sharp pain in his palm and yelped from the sensation, gritting his teeth as he clutched his right wrist.

“Arthur!” Summer Butcher worriedly called from the hallway, a wool winter surcoat seemingly having just been haphazardly pulled over her long sleeved chemise and her graying blonde hair apparently having only just been recently tied into its bun, hurriedly running to the front door to help her son. “Are you alright?”

Arthur’s gigantic Uncle Melion stopped in the entrance to the hallway after Summer made her way through, and, having himself had a history with the Witch of the Woods when she had given this former wolf the ability to assume human form, gave his nephew an understanding look that managed to be warm and comforting despite his scar-riddled leonine face and bestial mane of black hair, and asked, “S’ the mark, innit Arty?”

“Yeah,” Arthur groaned as he endured the stinging sensation in his palm, opening his right fist to see that the green mark in his palm was slowly pulsing as it glowed more fiercely than ever. “It’s time.”

Despite the heartbroken look on her face at first, Summer forced a smile and asked her son, “Is there anything you need me to do to help?”

“Yes,” Arthur gasped as the pain gradually began to die down, “Could you get Pa and Morgan to come here and for all of you to get your coats on? I don’t want to go to the forest alone… or to say goodbye just yet.”

It was then that Arthur felt his uncle’s massive hand rest on his shoulder to comfort him. Looking up, Arthur saw Melion’s bearded face smile at him reassuringly and then turn to Summer and say, “Ye and Harry go get the sled ready. Ah can look after Arty in the meantime.”

With a nod, Summer ran off to fetch her husband, and as soon as she was out of the room, Melion kneeled down next to his nephew to look him directly in the eyes and tell him, “S’ okay, Arty. Ye’ll not be alone on yer trip through the woods. Ah’ll be with ye every step of the way.”

Tears beginning to roll down his cheeks, Arthur sniffed, “Thanks, Uncle. That really means a lot to me.”

“No need tae thank me, ah’m just lookin’ after me family like any uncle worth his salt. And ‘sides, if ye think ah’m lettin’ ye go into that forest on yer own after last time, ye’re dead wrong.”

Allowing himself a small chuckle, Arthur said back to his uncle, “Yeah, I guess there’s no way you were letting me make this trip by myself after that.”

But after Arthur finished that comment, Arthur heard a familiar voice call, “Arthur?”

Looking away from Melion, Arthur saw his sister, her rosy skin paler than normal from the cold and her shoulder length brown hair falling unbound from her head instead of tied in its usual ponytail, already bundled up in her fur lined winter coat and boots, who uneasily said, with a sad look in her sharp, sky blue eyes, “I heard you screaming, and then Ma came and said it was time for you to go, so I thought I’d come over to the front, and… yeah, here I am.” Stopping to make a deep sigh, Morgan asked Melion, “You okay to help our folks get the sled ready, Uncle? I’d like to talk to my brother in private for a moment.”

“Of course,” Melion said with a nod as he got up, and as he headed for the back to help Harold and Summer in the barn, he told Morgan, “Be sure tae say anything ye’ve always wanted tae tell him, but never did. This might be yer last chance tae say it fer a while.”

Waiting until Melion had left the house; Morgan gave a deep sigh and asked her brother, “Well, this is it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” Arthur sighed no less deeply. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, my only brother, who I’ve known my whole life, is leaving to live in a monster infested forest with a scary powerful witch to be her manservant, so I don’t know, you tell me?”

“Oh. That bad, huh?”

“Yep. But what’s worse is… look, there’s something I’ve been bottling in since your new boss healed me that day.”

“Well, you’d better get it off your chance while we’ve still got time. What is it?”

Sighing heavily, Morgan began, “I haven’t exactly made an effort to hide how I don’t exactly approve of how you went behind my back to see the Witch about getting me a cure, but the way I’ve been talking about it, people seem to have the impression that I’ve made peace with it, but I haven’t.”

Clenching her fists tightly, Morgan raised her voice as she continued, “Look, I’m glad to be alive right now, but you still lied to my face about how sick I was, and never even had the spine tell me about your crazy plan, much less ask how I felt about it, or even say goodbye before you ran off and almost got yourself killed!”

“Morgan,” Arthur began, struggling to find the words to explain himself, “I-“

“Oh right, you did say those things… while I was asleep! I guess admitting these things is easy when the other person can’t even raise an objection, isn’t it?!”

At this point, Morgan tears were pouring down Morgan’s cheeks as her clenched fists were shaking in rage, before she rushed up to her brother to tightly embrace him and sniffed, “Just… why couldn’t you tell me to my face?”

“It’s like you said when I brought the Witch here,” Arthur sighed as he hugged his sister back. “I’m a coward. I might have objected when you called me that all those months ago, but it’s true. I didn’t tell you that you were going to be fine after the doctor told us otherwise so I could convince you about it. I did it so I could convince myself. Because I desperately wanted to believe that you were going to make it through alive, and if I admitted to your face that you were dying… then I would have begun to accept that it was true.”

“I wasn’t just afraid of losing you,” Arthur continued, “I was afraid of accepting that I would. Even after everyone told me to make peace with that fact and cherish the time I had left with you; the doctor, Uncle Melion, even the Witch herself; I felt I had to do anything I could to avoid that, or die trying. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to ask you how you felt about it. Because I was afraid you could convince me to not do it; because I was afraid of letting you go.”

“And now you don’t have a choice but to do just that,” Morgan mused as she broke out of Arthur’s embrace, “so that turned out well, didn’t it?”

“I’m aware of the irony,” Arthur sighed. “I’ve realised I can’t avoid saying goodbye, but I can say that I’m sorry.”

“I’ll let you know if I ever forgive you.”

“I see,” Arthur said as he looked down, devastated. “But can I at least say something I never had the courage to say to you back then?”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Morgan told him. “So go ahead, say it.”

Taking a deep breath, Arthur said the same words he had said while his sister was asleep all those months ago, “Goodbye, sis. I love you.”

Giving her brother one last hug, Morgan replied tearfully, “I love you too, bro. Goodbye.”

Not even a full second after Morgan had said that, the two heard the back door open and their Uncle call, “Sled’s ready, Arty! Ye two say wot ye needed tae?”

“Yeah,” Morgan sighed. “We did.”

“Well, we’d best not delay then, as much as I’d like to,” Arthur sighed as he took his coat off the hanger and put it on. “Otherwise the mark on my hand might give me another ‘reminder.’”

“Are you really okay with leaving?” Morgan asked him.

“Of course I’m not,” Arthur said sadly as he slid on his winter boots and picked up his two bags. “But I gave up my choice in the matter long ago.”

So, with no more excuses to dawdle, the two siblings opened the door in front of them and walked through, making their way to the family barn after they had closed the door behind them.

Right in front of the barn, the two found the old family sledge waiting for them, the reins tied securely to a pair of reliable workhorses, and their parents sat in the front seat. Standing by the sled was their Uncle Melion, fully armed and clad in his wolfskin cloak, which strangely had some sort of leather harness tied to it.

Seeing Arthur and Morgan approach, Melion asked his nephew, “Well, Arty? Ye ready tae go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Arthur said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”

Melion took Arthur’s bags and placed them in the sleigh, before helping the siblings get in themselves. After which, without a word, Arthur’s father Harold, his stocky frame bundled in his fur lined coat with the hood raised over his gray-templed receding brown hair, leaving only his bespectacled, rotund face visible, whipped the reins, and their two horses pulled the sled forward, making their way to the road downhill towards the forest.

“We didn’t have to get the sled ready just to bring Arthur down to the forest,” Harold said to Melion, looking back at his brother as their family passed by other sleds as well as locals walking their way to town on foot for tonight’s festival. “We could have easily walked that distance and allowed Arthur more time to enjoy the view.”

“True,” Melion granted, “but folk might find it a mite suspicious if we walk in tae the woods one Solstice Eve ‘fore returning empty handed with one of our own missin’. With a sled, we can at least return with some firewood tae avoid uncomfortable questions.” Melion paused briefly to reach down to the sleigh floor and pick up the woodcutting axe he had placed there to demonstrate before putting it back down and continuing, “‘Sides, this way it be easier fer everyone tae say their goodbyes without bein’ overheard by passersby. And ah’m sure everyone here would appreciate the relative privacy that nets us.”

“Makes sense,” Harold ceded. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Making a long sigh after a brief silence between the family, Arthur turned to his sister and asked, “So Morgan, you need to get anything off your chest before Ma and Pa say their piece?”

“It’s alright,” Morgan reassured him, giving her brother a hug from beside him. “I said everything I’d been bottling in back in the house. No need to embarrass myself out here where our parents can hear.”

“So it was that kind of goodbye, huh?” their father asked understandingly from up in the drivers’ seat.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Morgan sighed. “You’ve ever had to let up complicated feelings when saying bye to someone, Pa?”

“Yes,” Harold sighed. “That’s what makes this goodbye all the more difficult for me. To tell the truth, I’m still struggling to put what I’m feeling about it into words. And I’ve never really been good at that sort of thing.”

“It’s okay, Pa,” Arthur reassured his father. “We’ve still got a ways to go ‘till we reach the forest, so you don’t need to rush anything.”

Placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder, Summer reassured him, “Don’t worry dear. I can go first if you’re not ready to say your goodbyes yet. You can take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, dear,” Harold told his wife, “I appreciate that.”

“Glad you offered to give Pa the time he needs,” Arthur commended his mother. “What is it you need to say?”

“This probably isn’t going to be easier for me than what your father means to tell you,” Summer sighed, “but it’s probably best I get it off my chest while I still can. It’s no secret in this family that I’m a very religious woman. Since I was a little girl, your grandparents taught me that no matter how bad things got, the gods and spirits would provide in some way, and I’ve lived my life by those beliefs.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming up here,” Arthur noted. “So what changed, Ma?”

After a long, deep breath, Summer turned around in her seat to face her son and answered, “Morgan’s health changed. I’d spent decades of believing the gods would provide in whatever way they could, but when my only daughter lay dying, they did nothing. At first, I told myself that I couldn’t expect divine aid for everything we needed, even in such dire times, but it hasn’t stopped me from doubting a tiny bit. And ever since you made your bargain, I kept praying, asking any god that would listen for a sign that you’ll be safe after you leave, but I have yet to receive one. Right now, the only guarantee I’ve gotten for your safety is the word of the very woman I first would have asked our gods to protect you from.”

“Is that what you two discussed alone before she left?” Arthur asked. “You asked the Witch to keep me safe while I work for her?”

Summer nodded, shaking in despair as she continued, “Don’t misunderstand me, Arthur. My faith hasn’t been shattered, only shaken. I will still pray for your good health in hopes that at least one god will listen. Because once you go into those woods again, it’s all I’ll be able to do for you.”

“Ma…” Arthur breathed, teary eyed, before he leaned forward to give his mother a hug. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, Arthur dear,” his mother sniffed. “I’m the one that’s failed you.”

“Don’t say that, Summer,” Harold sadly told his wife from beside her. “I’m the one that failed our boy.”

“Harry,” Melion tried to reassure his adoptive brother from the back of the sleigh as it reached the bottom of the hill, “don’ be sayin’ that neither. Ye didn’ do anythin’-“

“No, I didn’t. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Pa,” Arthur began, trying to comfort his father as he broke from his mother’s embrace, “if this is still too hard for you, you don’t have to say it just yet…”

“No Arthur, I’m ready to tell you.”

As Harold took a deep breath to finally say what he wanted, Arthur saw Melion give his father a concerned look, seemingly knowing exactly what he was about to say.

“You kids already know how I only got into the farming life when I married your mother,” Harold began, “but you’ve probably also noticed that, other than your uncle, I don’t talk about my own family a whole lot. And since Summer’s parents passed away when you were young, we three have pretty much been all of the adults in our family you’ve seen your whole lives. Well, there’s kind of a reason for that.”

“Yeah, I’ve suspected that might be the case,” Arthur replied. “You’ve mentioned a few times that you come from a family of butchers, but you never look really happy whenever you or anyone else brings it up.”

“That’s right,” Harold sighed. “My own father was always distant. He wasn’t the worst father in the world, but he buried himself in his work, and never really had time for his us, except on scant instances. Our mother tried to do the best she could, there was only so much she could do, and our business only ever did enough for us to get by.”

“Well, at least that aspect wasn’t any worse than it is for you now,” Arthur said, hoping to make this conversation less painful for his father.

“You’d be surprised, Arthur. Compare to my old life, marrying into your mother’s family was practically my big break.”

“Wow…” Arthur breathed, astonished that his father could have possibly worked in a trade where their farm was a step up.

“And then there were my siblings,” Harold continued, as the sled turned at the town gate, circling the town walls on their way to the Dark Forest. “I mean my biological siblings, not your Uncle Melion back there. In particular, my brother Marcus and I were never exactly close, to put it lightly. Sure, he was an excellent butcher- the profession, I mean- and had a keen eye for business that our shop sorely needed, but we had different ideas about how to look out for the family. I wanted to make sure no one was left behind no matter how little we had, while he had a more… economical view of the whole thing, arguing for a more cutthroat direction to take the family business, and advocating for more sacrifices to be made by certain individuals in the name of keeping the family as a whole fed as much as possible. It didn’t exactly make him the most well liked among our siblings, but his advice for running the shop tended to work out for us financially, so we’d kind of accepted his way of doing things as a necessary evil… but it also contributed to us drifting apart when I met your uncle.”

Taking over for Harold, Melion began, “After the Witch and ah had parted ways, ah wasn’ in the best of shape. Ah got intae a close shave with a really nasty bugger on me way out of the woods, so ah was in no shape tae hunt fer me next meal. So with no other options than tae sneak in tae one of them human villages tae find me some grub, ah sniffed out the fresh meat in yer pa’s butcher shop and ah broke in, hopin’ tae take wot ah could and get out. Problem was, the moment ah got in and changed tae me human form tae carry me haul out, Harry o’er here had just come up tae check on the shop, and as if ah didn’t have enough problems right then, it was just then that ah passed out from me wounds.”

“Yeah, it was quite the shock when it happened,” Harold admitted. “Seeing a warg break into your home and turn into a giant of a man should have driven most others into a panic and had them reaching for the nearest butcher knife before he could come to, but werewolf or not, I couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor sod. So I woke the family to get help, and started tending his wounds as best as I could.”

“Hey, ah’m certainly not complainin’ ‘bout that part!” Melion chuckled, before the smile drained from his face and he somberly said, “Although some people certainly did. ‘Specially one in particular…”

“Indeed,” Harold sighed. “He might have had the sense to not say it to his face, but Marcus wasn’t too keen on us helping your uncle recover. Said it would’ve been far less trouble if I’d have killed him when I saw him break in. Even less when I convinced our folks to offer Mel a place to say. Marcus said he’d just been a drain on resources we couldn’t spare. Sure, I could sort of see his point even back then, but I still can’t believe how cruel that was!”

“Did Un-“, Arthur began, before amending what he was about to say to, “did Marcus know about Melion’s… you know?”

“No,” Harold replied. “He wasn’t there in the room when I saw your uncle change. I’d thought to tell everyone when we were nursing him back to health, but considering how werewolves are thought of by many people, I thought better of it. I only talked with Mel about it when we were alone. And it didn’t really help how Marcus and I were drifting further apart as your uncle and I grew closer. But what really caused me to cut ties with him happened time I was courting your mother. By that time, my parents had both passed away, and as the eldest among us, Marcus had inherited the shop and finally had the final say to make his cutthroat business strategies the standard way of running things. And he saw my potential marriage with Summer as a means to get to her farm under his growing business’s control. And the more I saw my brother using other people as disposable tools to boost our family business, the less I wanted anything to do with it. So when the time came to finally marry your mother, I told Marcus that the farm and the shop would not be working together, and I left that place and never looked back.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad I’ve never had to call him my uncle, then,” said Arthur. “But why tell me this now? Was it really that important to let me know that your brother was a callous bastard before I left?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… every time I raised an objection to one of Marcus’s heartless ideas, he’d shoot me down by accusing me of being selfish; of prioritising my own conscience over our family’s well-being. And lately, I’ve been wondering if he was right all along. When the doctor told us about the Witch, I was considering going to the Witch for help. But when Mel asked me if I’d be willing to go into the Dark Forest myself to seek her aid, I wasn’t. My own daughter was dying, and I couldn’t even bring myself to do the one thing I possibly could to help!”

“You don’t have to beat yourself up over that, Pa,” Arthur tried to reassure his father.

“Yeah,” Morgan agreed. “I’m not going to blame you for not wanting to do something that could have gotten you killed.”

“But your brother didn’t even think twice about it, did he?” Harold said guiltily. “It’s the parent’s job to make sacrifices for the family, not the child’s. And when you needed me to do just that, Morgan, I couldn’t, but Arthur did. And all because I wasn’t willing to do what needed to be done for my family’s sake. Just like Marcus had always said of me.”

Harold went silent for a moment, before he sniffed, “I’m sorry you had to shoulder this burden when I should have.”

Harold Butcher broke down in tears, his posture slouching as he continued to drive the horses pulling the sleigh onwards towards the steadily approaching forest. Not knowing what else to do, Arthur hugged his father from behind, telling him, “Don’t apologise, Pa. You didn’t force me to do anything. I went to those woods because I chose to do it. And I’m glad you didn’t make that choice. It wouldn’t be our farm without our father.”

Somewhat flustered from the hug, Harold could only sniff, “Arthur, my boy…”

“And your brother’s wrong, by the way. There’s nothing selfish about wondering whether you’re making the right decision.”

“I… thank you, my boy. I only wish that I had wondered that more.”

As much as Arthur would have liked to, however, he could not embrace his father forever, for as soon as he had received his thanks, the Butchers’ sleigh had passed into the forest, the trees obscuring the sky above them as the horses continued to pull them onward down the road. Realising his stop was coming soon, Arthur sighed, “Well, looks like I’m going to have to get off soon,” and let go of his father.

“Well, I suppose all good things must come to an end,” Harold sighed in turn, before asking his brother, “Mel, is there any stop that would be best to let you and Arthur off for where you need to go?”

“Nah,” Melion replied, “Any stop’ll be fine. The Heart of the Forest doesn’t really have a set location in the conventional sense- ye just need tae go in tae the woods wantin’ tae go there, and ye’ll end up there eventually. Don’ ask me how, s’ just how it is.”

“I see,” Harold said sadly. “So anywhere you’d like to get off, Arthur?”

“I… um…” Arthur began to hesitate. Of course it made no difference to him what patch of forest on the side of the road he and his uncle ventured into. Any roadside tree or shrub was the same as any other, as far as he was concerned. But he didn’t want to get off. If he could have his way, he’d just have this sled running around in circles along this road until the last possible second so he could spend every last second until nightfall with his family. However, it seemed his new mistress had other ideas, as he felt another sharp pain in the palm of his hand, less intense than it had been earlier today, and only lasting for a moment, but still reminding him not to dawdle.

“Here’s as good a place for me to get off as any,” Arthur sighed.

“Are you sure, Arthur dear?” his mother asked, concerned. “I’m sure we’d all be fine with dragging out your departure as long as you’d like.”

“No, it’s fine,” Arthur assured them, deciding not to tell them about the mark’s second reminder. “After all, it wouldn’t exactly make a good impression to be late for my first day on the job.”

“You know, Arthur,” Morgan chuckled half-heartedly as she placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder, “it wouldn’t kill you to be a bit less diligent of a worker.”

“Knowing who I signed up to work for, it just might.”

“Bro, if you’re trying to make us feel better with these jokes, it’s not working.”

“They’re more to make me feel better,” Arthur admitted. “Sometimes, we laugh because it’s better than crying.”

“If you want to follow that adage, you should have started during your party yesterday.”

“True, but you know what they say about hindsight.”

“Indeed,” Harold sighed as he pulled the reins, bringing the horses pulling the sled to a stop, before turning around in his seat and telling his son, “You know we’re all going to miss you, Arthur.”

“And I’m going to miss all of you. So, how about one more hug from all of you, until I see all of you again?”

Briefly removing his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes before putting them back on again, Harold sniffed, “You didn’t even need to ask, lad.”

And so, Arthur’s parents turned backwards in their seats and leaned forward to embrace their son, while Morgan and Melion hugged him from behind.

“Goodbye, my lad,” Harold told his son. “Planting in the spring’s not going to be the same without you, nor the harvest in the fall. Damn it, nothing’s going to be the same without you, lad.”

“And you stay safe, Arthur dear,” Summer told Arthur. “And let that Witch know that if she lets anything hurt a hair on her head, she’s going to answer to me.”

“She’s gonna get a good licking from me too if that happens,” Morgan added. “As much as I hate how you went about it, you saved my life, bro. I’d be more than happy to return the favour.”

“Ah’d be inclined tae give the old hag a piece of my mind even ye stay perfectly fine,” Melion chuckled. “But ah promise tae hold back on that ‘til the ladies come fer her head.”

“Thanks, all of you,” Arthur replied tearfully. “For everything, but mostly, for being the best family I could have ever had in any lifetime.”

After nearly a full moment of being walled off on all sides by his family’s warm, tight embrace, Arthur loosened his grip and everyone broke out of the embrace in turn. Ducking down to pick up his bags, he sadly said to his father, mother and sister, “Well, I’d best be off,” as tears continued to pour down his cheeks, “Goodbye, everyone. I love you.”

“Goodbye, lad.”

“Stay safe, my dear.”

“Bye, bro.”

And finally, all three of them said in unison, “We love you.”

And with all their goodbyes said, Arthur and Melion hopped out of the sleigh as Harold steered around to the other direction and drove the horses back towards town, all three of them waving Arthur goodbye as he waved them farewell in turn.

Arthur and Melion watched their family’s sleigh slowly drive away until it had disappeared from sight beyond the entry to the forest road. With no more reason to delay, Melion led Arthur off the road and into the forest proper, waiting until the road was out of view before dropping down on all fours and changing into his true form, a great, sabre-toothed black wolf, the leather harness tied to his cloak becoming a saddle for Arthur to ride on.

“Right then, Arty,” Melion told his nephew. “Feel free tae hop on whenever ye feel like it.”

With a long, drawn out sigh, Arthur decided not to delay the inevitable for too long and climbed onto his uncle’s back, holding tight onto the grip of the saddle.

“Ye holdin’ on tight?” Melion asked his nephew.

“Yeah,” Arthur confirmed. “Let’s move out, then.”

With that, Melion swiftly bounded into the forest, the surrounding trees and foliage becoming but a blur in Arthur’s eyes as his lupine uncle dashed through the snow covered forest floor, leaping over ravines and underbrush as powerfully as any horse.

The hour passed by as Melion blazed a trail to the Heart of the Forest, with long stretches of taking the direct route broken up by detours to avoid whatever monsters Melion caught the scent of that might enjoy a young human and a finely aged warg as their Solstice dinner. Fortunately, their trip went by without the two having to hide from whatever giant threat they had thankfully eluded on their journey home from Arthur’s first visit to the Witch. Perhaps, Arthur supposed, whatever beast those thunderous steps had belonged to all those months ago hibernated during the winter, but he was afraid to even ask his uncle what such a thing could be, much less inquire about its hibernation patterns.

Eventually, Melion’s pace slowed as the massive trees blotting out the sky grew farther apart, giving Arthur a small view of the midday sun through the branches above. Shortly after, the old wolf came to a full halt, his massive paws coming to a stop at a place Arthur knew all too well: the thatch-roofed cobblestone cottage home of the Witch of the Woods, the warm glow of a lit fireplace shining through the front window, and the bent conical roof of its accompanying tower seeming as unusual as it had when Arthur first set eyes upon this place.

“Well,” Arthur gulped as he got off of his uncle’s back, “here we are.”

“So,” Melion sighed as he took his human form after Arthur’s dismount, “no regrets?”

“Of course I have regrets,” Arthur replied begrudgingly. “I’m leaving everything I’ve ever known to forever work for a woman I know barely anything about, with only the slightest guarantee that I’ll ever see any of the people I love ever again! If I had any other options to help Morgan all those months ago, I’d have taken them. But I didn’t have those options, did I?”

“I suppose not, lad. That said, as much I ah never wanted tae set foot in this place again, ah’ll probably check in meself tae see how ye’re doin’ every now and then, an’ tae drop off any messages Morgan an’ the rest of the pack want tae send ye, so ye keep in touch.”

“Thanks, Uncle,” Arthur said with a tearful smile, “I appreciate it.”

It was then that Arthur’s uncle rushed in for one final, tearful embrace with his nephew, the two men hugging each other tightly.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Arthur sniffed with Melion’s arms wrapped tightly around him.

“No need, Arty,” Melion assured his nephew, not even trying to hold back the tears pouring down his face. “Ah’d accepted yer apology the moment ah ran in tae this wood after ye that day.”

“Thanks. Not just for this, but for everything. Thank you for all the visits, the stories you told us about your travels, the sword lessons you taught me, all those gifts and souvenirs you’d bring us, the dirty jokes you’d tell us when Ma wasn’t listening, helping with my last harvest back home…”

Arthur pulled one arm out of the embrace to wipe the tears out of his eyes before finally saying, “Thanks for being my uncle.”

“Please Arty,” Melion said with a warm smile just before breaking from the embrace himself and placing his gargantuan hands on Arthur’s shoulders, “I should be thanking ye fer letting me be that uncle.”

Unhanding Arthur, Melion asked him, “Will ye be okay from here on out? Ah can walk ye into the cottage if that’d make ye feel better.”

“Thanks for the offer,” Arthur said with a grateful smile, “but I should be fine on my own. Please go back and tell everyone back home I love them.”

“An’ we all love ye back,” Melion said tearfully as he got down on all fours and changed back into his true lupine shape. “Well Arty, ah guess this be goodbye and good luck.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. Goodbye, Uncle.”

Melion nodded his great canine head in affirmation and turned around before heading back out of the forest towards the Butchers’ hometown.

After taking a moment to reflect that his last goodbye had passed, Arthur gave a deep sigh and told himself there was no sense delaying things. With a deep breath, he turned towards the Witch’s cottage and walked onto the front steps before banging the brass knocker against the braced wooden door. Without so much as a voice telling him to come in, the door in front of Arthur opened of its own volition, and Arthur gulped, knowing the moment he crossed that threshold, he truly will have entered the supernatural world for good. Still, he had agreed to do just that, and he cautiously stepped inside.

As Arthur looked across the room as he entered, he saw sitting comfortably in one of the chairs in front of the roaring fire in the hearth, was the raven haired form of his mistress, the Witch of the Woods, reading a book as she waited for his arrival. Her amethyst eyes then turned towards the door, and she smiled as she closed the book and placed it down on the table.

“Welcome home, my servant,” she said warmly. “Do sit down and have some tea. You will need the rest before your work begins tonight.”

#witch #witchblr #fantasy #fantasy writing #original fiction #my writing #the witch's apprentice

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years ago

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Kings’ Trip (4)

T’Challa, M’Baku, Redeemed! Erik

Warnings: Cussin’, Family rivalries, slight, light peppering of implied smut, not even alladat. You’ll see.

Word Count: 2.8K (it’s a miracle I stayed within rule max)

A/N: This is part of a The Black Panther fandom collab created by @royallyprincesslilly. I really enjoyed doing this chapter, way more fun than I could’ve ever expected. Honored to have taken part, this community it so blessed. @katasstrophey, SHE READY!

Chapters: Kings’ Trip (1) By: @sisterwifeudaku, Kings’ Trip (2) By: @blackandfair (3) By: @royallyprincesslilly

The trip was proving to be a lot more than T’Challa signed up for. It was something when Erik’s reckless, loudmouth self and M’Baku’s narcissistic, disrespectful attitude were the most mild people he would have to deal with. The stress sat heavily on them into the next day. At least, on everyone but Erik.

“Aight niggas, we headed to the beach. Sun’s out, guns out.” Erik clad in his swim trunks, towel around his neck, and stunna shades on.

M’Baku was on the TV trying to figure out a video game Erik beat him on. “I’m not a very summer sun kind of individual, eh? I’ll just stay back. AGH!” He yells as he loses the level again against the CPU.

Erik snatches the controller from M’Baku. “Listen, you not gonna get any better at this today, trust me. If my trash ass beat you on Rainbow Road, you just not cut out for the Kart.”

M’Baku crosses his arms in a huff. Erik looks over to T’Challa who is stewing over a cup of coffee. “Now what the hell is your problem?”

T’Challa shakes his head, “Have you been here for the past couple days? I have a half-brother I never knew existed, you remember that?”

Erik sucks his teeth. “Don’t be actin like you never been through this before, dawg. You got a new cousin outta some Maury type shit, and we good!”

T’Challa looks over at Erik sullenly, “Our scenario is exactly what I am afraid of.”

Erik claps T’Challa on the back, “Don’t take it so hard, T. That’s why we need to get you out the house. This is still our kingcation, remember?! Let’s get out there, check out the waves, the honeys, and get it poppin!”

Nakia comes in the living room from the back, “You guys are going out?”

Erik looks sideways at T’Challa, “No wonder you all blue and shit. You know we can’t have no real fun unless your girl ghosts, right?”

Nakia glares at Erik, “Please, I couldn’t careless. But the way you all are treating Adrian, I think it is only right you think of him before going out.” She looks at T’Challa for confirmation, who turns his face scratching his scalp.

M’Baku steps over to them. “For the record, I have no ill feelings towards the little guy. But I wonder the significance of him being brought to our attention now?”

Nakia answers, “This is a sensitive predicament to break down to the tribal leaders. We don’t want to expose him to too much of what is expected from his existence. There are two groups of people that could be affected by this; we cannot risk an uproar like LAST time.” Nakia works her neck in Erik’s direction.

“Aye, it worked itself out in the end right? Chiiiill. So what y’all gon do, cuz I’m headed for some mai tai’s and gettin a good spot on the beach real quick.”

Nakia shrugs, “That’s fine. I’ll call Adrian to join you all.”

T’Challa perks up at this, “Eh? Why do you keep pushing this boy off on us? He is a grown man, he can make his way on his own. Why are you acting like his mother?”

Nakia steps right under T’Challa’s nose. “He is still young and impressionable though. You spent all of your life thinking your father was the greatest man, without flaws. As you have become grown, you see it is the opposite and it just keeps getting deeper! How DARE you blame him for his situation. You need to soften your heart and welcome him as your blood. Stop thinking about the throne and your status and take in your family!”

M’Baku plants his hands on both their shoulders, “Ok, let us calm this lover’s quarrel. Nakia, go ahead and call him.”

T’Challa knocks M’Baku’s hand off him, “What gives you any right to-”

“That is MY cousin, T’Challa. I have EVERY right to see him while we are here. Watch your tongue when speaking of a Jabari.” M’Baku says pointing a finger in T’Challa’s face.

Erik claps his hands, “Aight! I fucking love Black ass family reunions. Leggo!”

The crew make their way to the beach and it’s packed with folks. Erik and M’Baku race to get to some chairs that were unoccupied to claim. M’Baku stretches out, yawning, “Ahh, the sun is so draining….”

Erik taps his chest, “Uh uh, Baku, getcha ass on up. We goin to get some liq up in our sys.”

M’Baku sits up confused, “Why do you always speak like a broken radio? I can only understand every other word with you.” He gets up to walk off with Erik.

“T’Challa, you coming through?” Erik asks.

T’Challa is laying back in a chair, towel covering his face as he waves them away without a word. While they were gone, T’Challa contemplated the complexities of his family tree. He prayed that his father didn’t have some kind of Zeus complex, making children wherever he laid his head.

Soon as T’Challa started to drift off, an annoying yet familiar voice came to him.

“Aye! The seagulls will make a meal out of you if you don’t stop laying out here roasting like this.”

Moving the towel, T’Challa sees his sister Shuri. She had her braids half up and half down, with a cute patterned bikini on with a skirt coverup.

T’Challa sits up mortified, “Eh, you walk out of the house looking like this?!”

Shuri puts a hand on her hip, “I do and I have already. No angry mobs have rushed me in horror brother, so thanks.”

T’Challa tosses his shirt at her, “Put this on. You are too young to be wearing that.”

Shuri looks at him sideways, throwing the shirt back. “You do realize toddlers where things very similar to this as well, yeah? Calm your blood pressure, umkhulu.”

Erik and M’Baku are laughing and chatting coming back to the chairs. “Aye look who found us, y’all!” Erik had Adrian in a headlock.

T’Challa’s heart rate began to speed up, he did not want Shuri to know about their new found brother yet. “Good, you all made it! Shuri is here, but she was just about to leave to meet with Nakia, right?” T’Challa makes a face for her to scram.

Shuri waves him off, “Pssh, I have no obligations at the moment. Let me hang out with my cousin and Baku! Who is this guy, Erik?”

Erik’s face lights up as he starts but T’Challa cuts him off, “ERIK!! Let’s take Adrian for a drink, eh? We need to catch up! M’Baku, keep Shuri company, please.” T’Challa spins Erik around who still has Adrian locked up.

Erik looks at T’Challa confused, “Why ain’t you lettin’ the little nigga see his sister, man?”

“That was my sister?? Oh man, I always wanted a sister!” Adrian says under Erik’s pit.

“We need to talk about that, I don’t want to upset her with something like this. Who knows what she will do.”

They sit under a tiki bar and order some strong cocktails and a round or beers.

“Yeah, get me three beers, yo. They for me.” Erik looks over at Adrian winking. T’Challa smack his arm, “He can’t drink, what are you doing?”

Erik looks at T’Challa, heavy lidded from his alcohol consumption so far. “Chiiiill, he grown enough. He already had a beer anyway and he handled that. I promised him one more, then he cut off, right cuz?” The shake hands in a cool way that makes T’Challa feel a jolt of envy.

“So Adrian, what have you been up to lately?” T’Challa asks.

Adrian sips his beer burping, “Ahh, just helping with the community center mostly. I’m taking courses at a nearby community college as well.”

T’Challa furrows his brow, “Community college? Why aren’t you at a university? You have to apply yourself to the best institutions to get the best-”

“Aight, are we gonna be talking about careers and futures with the kid right now, for real? T’Challa that’s like the number one thing you should NOT asks a student about: what the fuck they doin in school.”

“Thanks, cuz. But T’Challa, I’m only going since it is the best thing for me to do, financially. I get my prerequisites covered by going to community college first. And I’m passing with flying colors, so it’s all good.”

T’Challa nods, blankly drinking his cocktail. He forgot about how America’s schools were not as accessible as Wakanda’s. He cursed himself for assuming Adrian was a slacker.

The bartender lines up some shots in front of them, filling them.

“We did not order these.” T’Challa speaks up.

The bartender smiles jerking his head in to the right of them, “They’re covered.”

Two melanated baddies wave sipping and giggling at them.

“Well shit, that’s my day made, right there.” Erik says as he downs all three of the shots. “Y’all conversate and shit while I go and knock down some walls.”

Adrian asks, “You mean break the ice?”

Erik turns rubbing his hands together Birdman style, “Nah, cuz. Knock. Down. Some walls.” Erik turns with a flourish. “Ayyye, y’all wanna feel my scars? They soft as fuck...”

T’Challa shakes his head scoffing to himself. “Now he is the crazy one. Try not to let him influence-” T’Challa looks over but Adrian is gone from his seat. T’Challa sees him attempting to hula hoop with Shuri and M’Baku. M’Baku is somehow impressively good at it despite his ox-like body.

T’Challa goes back to his original chair to keep tabs on how the conversations were going between Shuri and Adrian. He still wanted to keep control on letting that information out. Erik strolls over with the two baddies on either arm.

“And Veronica, this is M’Baku, my man! I know you like em thicc, he do too, baby.”

M’Baku drops his hula hoop puffing his chest out as he makes his way to Veronica. “Pleased to meet you...Veronica.” M’Baku dips his voice an octave, and Veronica notices with pleasure.

“Mmmm, nice to meet you! You work that hula hoop pretty good...your hip movements are pretty on point.” Veronica coos as she holds onto M’Baku close.

M’Baku chuckles, “My dear, I can move anyway you need me too. That is, if you can keep up?”

Night starts to fall on the beach as Erik has his portable speaker blasting some trap jams, his lady grinds on his lap inconspicuously as they are completely inebriated and feeling each other. M’Baku is into a beach game with Veronica, Shuri and Adrian. Adrian has Shuri on his shoulders, Veronica is on M’Baku’s as the girls attempt to push one another over into the water. Their laughs echo across the beach as T’Challa looks at them and how happy they are. Adrian definitely acts more like Shuri than him, if he had to admit anything about their relation.

He watches as M’Baku topples over with Veronica. Shuri flexes and growls imitating a Jabari chant in victory. Once M’Baku gets back up he tackles Adrian sending, Shuri and them into the water. Shuri comes up, disgruntled as she yells at M’Baku for his antics. Adrian and M’Baku wrestle in the water until M’Baku drags Adrian to the shore, putting him in a sleeper choke hold.

T’Challa thinks it’s getting a little too rough, so he gets up running over to them, “All right, that is enough!”

M’Baku laughs, “It is over when he taps out. Show me what you’ve got, little one!”

Adrian squeaks, “I know you are getting tired; water sports are easier on the joints for the elderly!”

M’Baku lets out a hearty laugh, “Oh, how rich! He has the Udaku mouth, that is for sure. Jabari act more than speak!”

T’Challa puts M’Baku in a hold that shakes him up. M’Baku lets Adrian go, rolling his body forward to whip T’Challa off of his back.

“The hell is wrong with you T’Challa? Did you think I was going to kill him?” M’Baku asks. Shuri watches from a distance.

T’Challa gets up, wiping sand off of him. “You know better than to hurt someone of royal blood.”

M’Baku guffaws, “Oh we acknowledge him now, do we? The lost brother is now welcome! Bring your fattest pig, finest clothes, rings for every finger! Oh PLEASE!” M’Baku’s nostrils flare, eyes bucking. Veronica holds his arm to anchor him.

T’Challa points to him warning, “M’Baku, you treat my brother with resp-”

“HE IS A JABARI! My cousin!” He says, beating his chest with each syllable. “You have a problem with how I engage with my cousin, I’ll take it into consideration when you treat him like your brother!”

“T’Challa…” Shuri looks at him confused.

“Shuri, it’s not-”

“I have been playing this whole time with my own brother, and you knew?? When were you going to tell me?”

“It’s not that simpl-”

“Save it, brother. I’m calling Nakia to take me to my loft.” Shuri walks away.

M’Baku asks T’Challa, “The child gets her own loft?”

“I run all the vibranium in Wakanda, what do you think?!” Shuri calls behind her.

M’Baku raises his eyebrows, “With ears like a rabbit, it seems.”

T’Challa collects his things, “It’s about time we call it a night. Adrian you can come with me. Where did Erik go?” He and M’Baku look around but see him nowhere.

“Do you wanna call it a night, M’Baku?” Veronica asks, eyes fluttering.

M’Baku takes her hand, kissing it. “I must admit that our festivities have drained my energy considerably.”

Veronica frowns, “Well I’m right across the street if you could...walk me home?”

T’Challa starts to head for the penthouse with Adrian , “I will see you later M’Baku. I’m heading back.”

Once he makes it back to the penthouse, T’Challa crashes on the couch, sighing deeply. His phone dings with a message from Nakia saying she dropped off Shuri and is coming to get Adrian.

Adrian turns on the TV. “So Shuri seems nice.”

T’Challa grips the bridge of his nose, “That will change.”

Adrian gets up to go to the fridge, grabbing a water. “Well maybe she just likes me more than you, who knows.”

T’Challa looks back at him like he is crazy. “You know her for all of five minutes, and you think she would pick you as a favorite brother?”

Adrian takes a sip, “I’m just saying, we are close in age, and when we were having fun, she was mad at you and storming off so, boom!”

T’Challa shakes his head, “I don’t argue with children.”

Adrian walks slowly to the couch, looking confused, turning down the TV slightly. “T’Challa...I think Erik is here.”

“Yeah I saw shoes and shirt by the door when we walked in. No home training.”

M’Baku walks in, “How are we doing, gentlemen?” He is beaming from ear to ear.

“I take it you and Veronica had a nice goodbye.” Adrian says.

M’Baku plops on the couch, causing Adrian to hop from his weight. “I do not kiss and tell…”

“Fuck! Oh!” a woman’s voice says

Everyone freezes at the distant exclamation.

“What was….” T’Challa starts.

“What’s my name, Princess? Lemme fuckin hear it!” Erik growls.

“Daddy! Oh, gimme that daddy dick!”

Adrian covers his giggles, “Remember I told you Erik was here? It sounded straight up like LL Cool J’s song ‘Doin It’ back there.”

M’Baku gets up striding out to the balcony, “I should’ve just stayed the night with Veronica. Now I have to hear this.” He closes the glass behind him.

Nakia walks into the penthouse, “Hey, guys. Did things go well?”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” the woman sounds operatic as she ought to be climaxing with all the noise.

“That’s it, nut on this dick-”

“ERIK!! Keep it down! Adrian, come on, get out!” He pulls Adrian to the door to rush him and Nakia out.

Adrian walks down the stairs as Nakia turns to T’Challa. “I didn’t think of you as someone to half-ass things, T’Challa…”

“I was protecting her-”

Like your father was protecting you! What does keeping the truth from people do T’Challa, huh? Has it done you any good? Erik?” Nakia storms off. T’Challa leans against the wall outside the penthouse. He is not used to being the bad guy, but his father left a trash legacy that he must try and turn into a treasure. Heavy is the head of the privileged. As T’Challa goes to open the door to return inside, it opens by itself. Erik’s date walks out, hair a mess, and all around disheveled.

“Aight Leslie, you be careful walking down those steps. Your hips oughta feel better by Thursday.” She smiled goofily waving goodbye as Erik leaned against the doorframe watching her go.

“Phew! Well, what’d I miss?”

@blublubleu @mbakusthrone @dramaqueenamby @muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @imagine-mbaku @airis-paris14 @katasstrophey @thewriterinflannel @blackandfair @sisterwifeudaku

#black panther fanfic #black panther au #black panther fanfic challenge #black panther fanfic collab #m'baku #t'challa #redeemed!erik #fanfic #shakafic #kings trip

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vladimir-faircrest · 6 years ago

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Heritage - Pt.3

(Ambiance for the party)

youtube

The party was quite unlike anything Vladimir had ever experienced before. Faircrests from all over Kul Tiras had come to the pub in Dampwick, filling the place to the rafters. Drinks flowed freely and food was abundant. Men sang into their cups, locked arm in arm as people danced on the tables, bar and hearth, lost in the joy of the music and elation of the night. Even despite himself, the Duke found himself dancing alongside his cousins, singing off key with his kin to old bawdy songs of the sea and women. All in all, Vladimir, for the first time in a long time felt like he belonged. These people, barely knowing him, were welcoming him into their family with open arms, loading him down with gifts and signs of affection. Laughing uproariously, he stumbled across the bar room, tumbling into his chair next to his Uncle Joseph; whom was grinning ear to ear at his nephews drunken antics.

The night drew on and for the longest time, the party showed no signs of stopping. Warmed by the ale and love he was feeling, Vladimir was giddy by the time he and his Uncle stumbled through the streets on their way home to Mariner’s Row. Arm over shoulder, they swayed in unison down the cobblestone roads, slurring the words of ‘Drustvar Girl’ and laughing to one another. They finally found their way home, after knocking on the wrong door more than once, and sat beside the hearth as dawn crested the rise. His Aunt, tolerant of her husband and nephew’s antics, brought them both a fresh pint, knowing it was best to just slowly kill off the buzz instead of letting the two men suffer.

As the sun began to peak through the curtains, glistening off the early morning tide, Joseph clasped his nephew’s arm fondly. “I’m pround of ya, y’know,” he grinned, suddenly no sign of his inebriated state slurring his words. “Y’came t’Kul Tiras an’ became one with y’family at the drop of a pin. Not many folks can claim t’be as adaptin’ as you, lad.”

A rough chuckle escaped Vladimir’s throat as he shook his head. “Adapting is all I know, Uncle… When mom and dad died, and the Defias fell, I didn’t know anything else other than killin’. Got to the point I was starting t’hunt people for the crown,” he explained, his drunkenness causing his accent to begin to slip back to its normal state. “Fighting, surviving… Changin’ t’the world ‘round me… s’all I know.”

“Not anymore,” Joseph pointed out, reaching over to tap the younger man’s chest. “Now y’know love, y’know a family, and y’know that no matter what the past ‘eld, the future is belonging t’you.”

“The Past Does Not Define You,” Vladimir intoned, half to himself before looking at his Uncle. “Adhelin told me long ago that a house’s motto helps show who they are. I’m a bloody criminal an’ murderer paradin’ around as a damned noble.” He just shook his head, “But none of that matters in the end. M’past ain’t dictatin’ who I am…”

“You’ll bring pride t’the Faircrest name, my boy,” the older man grinned, reaching over to pull him into a deep hug. “I ‘ave no doubt about that. An’ no matter how high y’rise, or how hard y’fall, you’ll always ‘ave a home t’come home to.”

The Duke felt himself sink into the other man’s chest, the words striking his heart along with the warmth of the man’s embrace. “I’ll always ‘ave a home,” he parroted, scarcely believing the words himself. “What do I do, Uncle?” he half whispered, half pleaded to the man.

“Well now, that’s up t’you, innit?” Joseph pointed out, leaning back to his own chair again. “Way I see it, y’in a unique position t’do some good in this world. There be nobles by the score that sit in their keeps, lettin’ their minds get as flabby as their behinds while the world around them turns. They don’t know no better though so y’can’t hold any ‘ard feelins. They don’t know what it’s like t’not know where y’next meal is comin’ from, they dunno th’pain o’workin’ themselves t’the bone just so y’ave a place t’sleep at night so th’rats don’t come nibblin’ at y’toes. But y’ain’t like that. Y’came from a different stock. Y’know what it’s like t’fall on the rough times as well as knowin’ ‘how sometimes that just the smallest kindness can make a difference in th’world. No matter what y’do, the Faircrest clan will always be at y’stern, blowin’ wind in y’sails to help y’through the rough waters ahead. But if I ‘ad y’opportunity?” he shrugged, taking a long drink from his mug. “Well now, if I was in y’position, I’d be doin’ what I can t’help. Way I see it, as long as y’always ‘ave the right intentions in mind, y’can rest easy at night. You would be amazed how sometimes the smallest kindness can buy a mate’s loyalty t’the day ‘e dies.”

( @householt @adhelin )

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gradientsir · 7 years ago

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Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

((Yes. I do have regrets))

It wasn’t chaos per se, but, with the multitude of bright pastel pigments and equally numerous bodies flitting about -- of course the small being was a little lost.

Plus the park was loud as well, there was no denying that.

Currently the kid was searching for her dear nerd-friend, checking different little groups and other clusters of children gathered around. Jordie had to be here somewhere and -- while her sense of smell was always on point, the smell of paint and other living beings wasn't helping. That kid normally had a distinct mix of shea butter and plastic, but, there were a number of people that had traces of said items on them.

No help.

Still, Forest tried to search for her darker-skinned friend. Couldn't be too hard to spot his scrawny ass seated somewhere with his DS. Or maybe a basket? It was the Day of Thieves after all.

Or Easter. However you look at it, whatever.

At this point she just let her bare feet travel anywhere they pleased, ignoring the stares from parents and the bigger kids alike. It...wasn't easy being two-feet tall or incredibly pale with spots here and there. Or the fact no one wanted to see the snark of the street stepping around on a holiday. It only meant bad things would ensue; it always did.

When the sun danced around the grass at her feet, she became vaguely aware of how nearly deserted the area had become. Forest supposed the other children had gone off to an event of some sort, that weird...hunt-thing they had going on.

Humans were interesting creatures, she'd admit. And yet...where was hers? Jordan was a strange boy but, equally lovable and accepting of others. Somehow he had befriended the hybrid child, leaving behind his former group of pals to show her all that he knew, despite her being in two grades below him and also...three years his senior.

Forest clicked her tongue, irritated he hadn't been found yet. It was past eleven and he was always excited for something better to do than walk around or play pretend. Her nose twitched when a small breeze made its way around her, carrying with it a familiar scent. For at least the twelfth time, but, she might as well humor it.

A bench swam into her view as she continued her measured walk, not in any hurry but curious. Almost anxious. But if she moved quick she may end up surprising whoever it was sitting near. Once she was within three feet of the object in question, she could pick out a single figure dangling their feet and...sniffling? Oh, no. She'd heard that particular sound many times before and, of course, it happened to belong to exactly whom she was looking for. Of course. Because the universe loves yet hates cliches, but...

"Why y'cryin'?" the smaller child heaved herself up onto the seat next to her friend.

He jumped, facing her and rubbing at an eye from under his glasses. Which were slightly bent in their frames.

"H-hey, 'Ana. Did you, uh...jus' get here or--"

"Jordan." the burning stare from her two-toned irises stopped him. He knew her well enough to practically kick himself -- his friend hated formalities and greetings that danced around the point.

"....Ellie sorta...t-took some things."

"What kinda 'things'?"

"What kind y'think?" "Mm."

Ah. He meant the little decorative objects lying around here or there. Either that or perhaps his DS or whatever. Why everyone wanted it was beyond her comprehension, but, again -- humans were interesting creatures.

"I was gonna give one t'you but, well...I figured maybe y-you could help me find s'more." he offered a shaky little grin, but the girl beside him only frowned. Simply glaring at him, yet the glare was not meant for this boy. Rather for the thief as previously mentioned. "Y'know, you got that nose'n'all..."

"Nah uh -- we ain't 'bout that. 'f'it was yours first, we gettin' that back. N'then some." she rose from the bench, hopping down and staring at him expectantly. "Elias' a pain in th'ass, n' I ain't lettin' him get no further t'day. He c'n get his own painted-whatevers, n' anythin' else he took -- boy's askin' f'trouble t'day."

When the other child did not get up, she moved to grab at his sleeves. Forest was in no playing mood today, apparently. Well, in all honesty, the only playing she ever did was with her friend on any mellow day, and sometimes her little brothers rough-housed a bit, but... She wasn't keen on letting this slide. In a way it was admirable, but then Jordie remembered how violent his little friend could get. Two-feet in height wouldn't stop her from trying to fight some poor sap.

So much anger contained within such a small figure.

"C'mon." a scarred hand was offered up. This was not much of a request -- she needed him to go with her. Close friends, and in order to fully be avenged this needed to be a public matter as well. Or just have Jordie be a witness, that too. Increased the fun with lots more eyes and ears, though.

Not much convincing was even needed for the boy, however once standing she released his hand. He was too tall to hold hands with, well, at her height anyway. Didn't stop them from walking side by side towards the center of the park, the place closer to the street than anything but both figures knew parents liked to keep their kids in that area at least.

"...y'ain't gon' hurt anybody, are you?" Jordie piped up after a minute or two. They were almost there and he was a little concerned. Very concerned, actually. "Dunno yet." came the reply. Looking down he could see the neutral expression on his friend's face, but he didn't have to ask to know she was no doubt glaring ahead. Hard to see when she had that beanie on and kept her head down so much.

That was as far as the conversation went, and besides, the smaller girl was half-deaf anyway so with all the noise it wouldn't have made much of a difference whether they spoke or not. Damn but she could practically hear their target, too. Target? Well technically speaking. It was that or call him a thief but all the gremlins running around were thieves.

Said 'thief' clearly hadn't noticed their presence yet, what with joking and making noise with his own squad for now. That was soon to change, not soon enough but, it wouldn't last long.

"Ma-a-n, I may be deaf, but, s'like stupid folk's th'loudest, ain't they?" Forest let her own volume cut into whatever conversation or game they played, much to Jordie's mortification. He would rather they not start a scene but...was asking a lot there. The other boy, and his friends, turned to face the pair. "Oh. Sorry, Ellie, din't see y'there."

The grin was evident in her voice.

"Aww, Spots joined us t'day. Is that...a stripe on your nose or-?"

"Wull, see, my spots is naturally dark. But I s'pose it takes a brown-noser t'know another, don't it? Y'got a lil' somethin' there," she gestured to her own nose.

Funnily enough, Elias discovered he did have some dirt on the tip of his own nose. The laughter of the other older children further confirmed that, bringing a reddish hue to his face. He only frowned and settled for staring down the narrowed eyes and big grin currently displayed by the girl, though.

"If tha's all it takes f'r you t'shut up, I gotta wonder how th'rest'a this' gon' go." Forest began to limp closer, hands in her hoodie's pockets again.

Jordan watched on. It wasn't his call to follow after her.

"Now...I heard from'a good friend'a mine, over there, that you's been stickin' hands where they don't b'long. See, he's missin' some stuff n' I figured, y'know, maybe you'd know how that happened." The grin was mostly gone by then.

Elias hadn't moved from his spot, but wasn't planning on hearing this spiel from her. This was a thug, through and through. She may not have guns or chains to rattle, but in the realm of kids, she might as well have just gotten out of prison on good behavior -- with a grudge to boot. A dangerous child at only two feet tall.

"Depends. I might'a done a few things earlier, what's it to you? Anybody else could've done this sort of thing, n' you come after me instead."

The smaller child only narrowed her eyes, frowning as well. "I c'n smell liars out real well, y'know. S'a pretty day out," he could see the threat in her two-toned irises. "We all know fools push they luck whenever there's a crowd. N'on such nice days, too. You know I don't like it when that happens, what'd'you expect? Me t'ignore it?" there was a little chuckle from her, but it wasn't anything friendly.

"You don't like anything, so, m'not real surprised I was the go-to."

Forest could practically feel Jordie brace for her next response. That kid was always anticipating something extreme to come from her mouth. Might as well let him have it.

"Aww, that ain't true. I's a person'a simple taste," the other children quieted down further to hear what she had to say, "I like t'play games. Not all, but some, n' if I get a lil' somethin' out of it. I's a cripple -- runnin' ain't f'me. I guess y'could say I also like t'gamble. I like when s'hot outside, when there's no dogs. I's not too diff'rent from most men in tha'I like good pussy, n' when I don't get in trouble for stupid shit. Though...I'll say, I like not havin' t'deal with jackasses when I don't gotta."

The crowd went wild. Kids looked on in incredulity, amazed she'd even said such words. Not the ones that knew her, though. The rather poorer crowd only laughed and cheered in their own way. Mostly 'ooOOOH's but, still.

Forest only shrugged lightly, offering a little smirk at the boy, now. As if telling him to retaliate in however way he pleased. Nothing would be as good as anything she just said.

"..." Elias couldn't even formulate a response for a bit, causing the crowd to laugh louder when they realized this. "Oh, that's cute, Imp." The grin on her face only widened. Insults didn't matter to her, too much.

"Don't see how that's gon' help you get anything back, though."

"Kid, th'fact I jus' owned your ass in a lil' roast sorta speaks f'r itself." She rolled her shoulders in a bored manner. This was getting to be a stale roast session, and she wasn't up for much more. "But, if you'd like t'try a diff'rent way'a makin' me turn back, g'head." The smaller child even went so far as to pop her knuckles for emphasis.

If there was a fight, which the other children from her side of the coin begged for, no doubt it would end badly.

Elias frowned silently for a moment or two. In his entire being, he knew that if he swung first she would kick his sorry ass further. Verbally was one thing, but physically? He'd gotten decked to the nose a few times by the little imp, and had no desire to have it happen again. At least, not much of a want for it. Kind of a dream to win instead, but...not all dreams come true.

"Tick-tock." the half lidded eyes of the other only aggravated him more.

Thank God the saving grace that separated the children from each other arrived. Unfortunately in the form of one of the parents. Definitely not anyone Forest recognized, what with the nice clothes of the woman and the soccer-mom haircut.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young man!" At first, both kids thought Elias was the one receiving the reprimand. They were wrong.

Much to her chagrin, it was actually the smaller child the woman was chastising. 'Young man...?'

"Using language like that! How would your parents feel, knowing this is how you talk?" Everyone else fell silent, knowing this was not a line that needed crossing. The mother didn't understand, and continued despite the tension. "Picking on someone bigger than you, too. You could get yourself hurt, and then he'd," she gestured to the taller child, "Be in trouble!"

Up until then, Forest had kept her mouth shut in a thin line, two toned irises watching blankly. The older woman stared but could not see any sign of life in those eyes. They were...empty. Unnervingly so, but it hardly stopped her. The only thing that did put a pause in her tirade was laughter, coming from the empty child herself.

"Ma'am, I mean no disr'spect when I ask this, but, he y'boy?" She could feel Jordie not wanting a second scene. "...no, but-" "Then this ain't y'problem. I hate t'break it t'you, but he stole from me. Or, well, a friend, but pretty much me. Let's add I's not from your part'a town. We from West Side, ain't we?" the other children behind her stood a little straighter. She had some form of a backup at least. "I ain't ever seen you b'fore. You ain't my mama n' I thank you f'r tryna break up this lil' spat, but maybe y'should consider lookin' both ways, huh?"

In her own way, saying not to immediately jump on the dirtier kids.

"I ain't done nothin' yet. N' you wanna peg me as th'villain," a low whistle slid out from between her shark-like teeth. "But if tha's how we play, I'll run with it. Not like me'n'him go t'th'same school're nothin'." A rather lazy grin was offered before she moved to step away.

The imp had no wish to hear the adult out, or make things right. This could all be solved later, and with a better offer of payment.

Jordan moved to walk at her side, seeing as the crisis was gone, and they could leave. The adult was in near shock at the flow of language from the little hybrid's mouth. It did not take long before she scuttled elsewhere to distract from the quick loss of power. Like she had been dethroned, almost. After all, kids knew they were supposed to listen to adults, and yet...this child tore her down in an instant. She couldn't interrupt, it was too..unreal.

Elias hadn't moved from his spot, neither. Watching the pair calmly walk away. Calmly...it was irritating. "That's all it takes? Aw, so the 'Great Beast of West Side' is scared off by jus'an adult, huh?" All the other bystanders froze, watching to see how the call out would be received. This could go one of two ways: either a fight would ensue, or the child would keep walking. Thus making his words speak of truth.

However, the small girl stopped. Carefully she turned, staring him dead-on. "Ellie...y'look hungry. Downright starvin' f'r a knuckle-buster sandwich. How'd y'like it done?" she grinned slightly, walking closer. Round Two it would seem. "S'a pretty day out, as I says. There's lotsa colorful stuff, n' flowers. Sun's all warm, too. On days like these, kids like you," the grin widened, and despite the emptiness of Forest's eyes the other children sensed an obvious threat. "Shouldn't play games they cain't win at. If'n you gon' be petty as a five year old then go join'em in th'sandbox."

Vaguely, the boy noticed how her red hoodie had disappeared. Now she was just standing there, staring. Waiting for some form of move to be made. Honestly, he was a little afraid. No one would step in to help him out, he'd already dug himself into a hole. "Aren't you five?"

"D'I really sound like I am?"

Fair point, he'd admit. "So what'll it be t'day, boy?" That lazy grin didn't appear but, Ellie could practically hear it in her voice. "If not t'day, then some other time, 'cause y'ain't fuckin'round with my folk n' get away wit'it."

The boy couldn't formulate a response. Really, he was struggling. The little hybrid had surely caught him so far off guard he wasn't even playing the same game. She was playing in the NFL and he was just selling muffins outside the stadium, at this point.

"I'mm' start countin' cents if y'don't gimme'n'answer soon. We's at...five," Great. "Ten," This was a dilemma.

"Fifteen, kinda weird seein' that big gear turn," and that was all it took, really.

Elias was tired of the insults that seemed to spill from the smaller child's mouth.

Under his feet, sharp bits of gravel and larger pebbles dug into his sandals, giving him an idea. There was a quick scuff sound, and a handful of the rocks were launched straight for his opponent's face.

They landed a little farther south than he would've liked, kind of between her throat and collarbone.

What he got in response was a surprised sort of squawk, and an incredulous look. As if Forest were asking him what the fuck? She seemed almost confused.

"Geez...not even sure I feel like throwin' no hands after whatever that mess was." The grin returned, but he, and the rest of the children knew full well the smaller one kept her promises. In this case, any move at harm warranted retaliation; even if it was just a pathetic pebble-kick.

It didn't even start off rough, Forest moving at a slow pace towards him. Limp present, as if to make her appear weaker. Ellie knew how much of a lie that was. The disability, her leg being so short and crooked, was true but the weakness was not. Once again that fear returned: of her beating him near senseless. To where he might not even remember his own name or what exactly happened. The closer she got, the more the urge to flee increased. The tiny child seemed to be in no rush. It infuriated him.

The others standing around had fallen silent or at least, whispering among themselves. Jordie, in particular, stood back in his spot. Though his friend could fight for herself, he still worried. Especially when Elias, dumb as he was, took a swing at the spotted creature. It was only out of an adrenaline rush, or was it anxiety? Either way, Jordan knew the other kid was regretting that decision as quick as he'd made it.

There was a loud crack! as disfigured knuckles met with the angle of Ellie's jaw.

In the time it took for his hand to complete its arc, Forest had landed her own blow before said hand even dropped. Elias cried out in both pain and surprise, free hand flying up to cradle the side of his face.

The little beast could almost smell the tears welling up in his wide eyes.

"Told ya we ain't finna play no games, Ellie." It was only one hit. Only the one. The kids around them had seen enough of these fights to know she was waiting for the chance at an execution of sorts. A way to make a message heard, even if it was through overkill. In all honesty, Forest could walk away and let this off as a warning. The boy seemed remorseful, well, more regret than actual remorse. Still. It was something.

Normally the tiny tyrant would've continued, only thing to stop her now was the return of the hand. It managed to graze her nose this time but that was the only contact needed for Elias to know: he'd goofed. Big time. The smoldering look in the smaller child's eyes told him as much. And, well, the gasps from the other kids did too.

"Ready t'fuckin' die?" Forest gave him no time once again, quickly catching him to the jaw and pulling her arm back for another punch. Elias whimpered and moved to run, feet barely taking a step before a rough hand grabbed for his collar. Forest had the strength to yank him down at least, which was still a surprising feat for one so small. Less surprising was the knee to the nose, then the rough shove so he faced the sky. His back embraced by the dirt.

His attacker ignored any sudden gasps or coughs. "Wh-where do they make folks like you?"

"Oh, they'on't make folk like me. We ain't made."

It wasn't that Forest was heavy, despite now sitting on his ribs, but knowing his impending doom lay in her hands...well. He was shaking. The smaller child couldn't help but grin, seeing the taller one shut his eyes. Shut tight, too. "I want y't'know from th'bottom'a my heart, tha'you's lucky this was so short," the imp felt grim satisfaction at the flinch when she raised her fist. The shadow stretched across his face, almost like one of Forest's spots. Almost.

There was a shift in the crowd, noticeable enough to make her pause. Something was coming, but it didn’t sound like any adult she’d ever heard.

Elias even opened his eyes, not daring enough to move past that.

“Wha-? Crikey, wha’s all this goin’ on ‘ere?!” Whoever it was, they sounded shocked, slightly confused, most certainly angry. “I ought’a send ya slinkin’ yer folks if ya think I’m gonna allow fighting on my day!”

What the fuck?

((credit to the weeb ( @winterfrostguardian ) for writing in an accent i don’t hear v. often))

#heyo sir writes a thing #this is gon be trash #another short #holy moly this is late #a year and a day late #i blame winterfrostguardian #u know what u did #u know exactly what u did #TW: language

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jackcowboyhero · 7 years ago

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Are there any other Famous Horses from History that we should know about?

JACK: O’ course there are! Folks always put time into studyin’ all the famous people from history, but without horses they couldn’ta done much–after all, it ain’t like Napoleon could go speedin’ around in an automobile, and not just ‘cause he couldn’ta seen over the dashboard. (His horse was called Marengo, and horses don’t have dashboards, which is important when you’re only two feet tall. Also, a good-lookin’ horse’ll make almost anybody look majestic.)

First o’ all, there was Charlie Russell’s horse, Monte, who looked like this:

If you’re sayin’, “that looks like a scrappy an’ delightful mustang like Nell!”, you’re right! Monte used to be a Blackfoot warrior’s horse, and when his owner died ridin’ him in a fight, the other Indians decided to shoot him so the dead guy would have a horse to ride in the afterlife. So, they shot him in the neck, but the next day, there he was, eatin’ like nothin’ had happened. (Which is, o’ course, what Nell would do. She wouldn’t die when she could eat instead.) The Indians called him “Ghost Horse” and thought it’d be bad luck to ride him, so they sold him to some seventeen-year-old hooligan named Charlie Russell instead. (Seventeen’s a great age to get a wonder horse.) Charlie had him for 23 years before he died last year, which just proves how tough mustangs are.

Another great western horse is Billy the Kid’s bay racin’ mare. Billy’s great, but the one thing he did wrong was not tellin’ the world his mare’s name, ‘cause I think he coulda built some good publicity for himself that way, ‘steada lettin’ Pat Garrett have all the papes’ support. So, we don’t know what he called her, only that she was a good runner and he thought a lot of her. She ended up with a lady who named her Kid Stewart Moore, which in my opinion is a mouthful–Sarah coulda come up with a better name.

Anyway, Miss Kid Stewart Moore’s the one in the middle.

Speakin’ o’ mares–which I always am, ‘cause nobody gives ‘em enough credit–there was a harness racin’ mare named Goldsmith Maid, or Maid for short. (That’s a more sensible name than Kid Stewart Moore.) She started off as a farm horse…except she was so spirited nobody could get her to work, and the owner just kept her around ‘cause he liked hooligans. But she had good blood in her–her uncle was Hambletonian 10, who started the Standardbred breed–and after changin’ hands a couple times, somebody finally decided to try bein’ nice to her and lettin’ her do what she wanted in harness…and what she wanted was to WIN!

Here she is blazin’ ahead o’ another horse:

When Pop was a kid, Goldsmith Maid was real famous, and rode to races in her own private train car. Harness racin’s done at a trot, which is like the horse version o’ a jog…but Maid set records left an’ right, endin’ up with a 2:14 mile. (Can you jog a mile in two minutes? I sure as heck can’t, and I’m considered pretty fast for these parts.) Also, she was SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD when she set that time. Most famous racehorses are young colts…but good ol’ Maid didn’t retire ‘til she was twenty, an’ won more money than any other harness horse ever, TO THIS DAY. So that oughtta tell ya what mares can do.

But just in case ya need more proof, you wanna know who was the greatest race horse ever? A mare named Kincsem, who lived in Hungary.

Actually, to make it even better, she was a chestnut mare, which some folks say means a double dose o’ crazy. Kincsem decided to prove this wrong by tourin’ Europe and winnin’ every single one o’ the 54 races she ever ran. She loved travellin’, but she had two best pals, a cat and a guy named Freddie, and she’d holler and refuse to go anywhere if they weren’t comin’ with her. She also was real particular about only wantin’ to eat and drink food and water from her own barn, so they had to haul it with them, but she spent her time before races grazin’, which another chestnut mare (Nell) would think was a great plan. Freddie didn’t have his own last name, so he started bein’ called Freddie Kincsem, and if he didn’t have a blanket when he was sleepin’ in her stall, she’d take hers off and throw it over him. (A guy can’t have a better pal than a chestnut mare, is what I say.)

But, o’ course, there’s been good male horses too. Lots o’ Civil War horses got famous, like Traveller, Cincinnatti, and Winchester. Teddy Roosevelt rode Little Texas up San Juan Hill, and he’s got horses at the White House now too. Comanche was the only U.S. survivor o’ Little Bighorn, and after the Army found him, they patched him up, took care o’ him for years, gave him a military funeral when he died, and stuffed his body so folks can still get a look at him. (They kept Traveller’s skeleton and stuffed Winchester, too, in case you got an interest in heroic horse corpses.)

I mean, lots o’ horses get famous. If you got a special time period you like, start readin’ about it an’ I guarantee horses’ll start poppin’ up. But so far I don’t think any of ‘em are as famous as Bucephalus and Alex.

–Which is why I started this paperless pape thing, partly. I gotta build up the legend o’ Jack and Nell.

#Jack Kelly #Jack's Horse Handbook #Jack Does Mythology #Nell #((in a modern AU Jack would also love Sgt Reckless #a chestnut mare who was decorated for service in Korea and is 1 of 3 horses to have a military funeral))#asked and answered #Jack Does History #in defense of mares

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tahlreth · 8 years ago

Text

What Has Been Done Part Two

Part One

A/N: Hey! So I don’t know if I linked the first part right? XD I hope I did? Someone tell me if I didn’t please? X’D So this took longer than I thought it would, but today I was watching LOTR after posting a chapter in a different fic on AO3, and my muse was like “HEY, WHAT IF WE DID THE THING”, and I was like “I’d love to do the thing!” so we did the thing, and here it is! <3 It’s pretty long, so if you’re on mobile you might not get to see it all - still not sure how that all works. XD Thanks for reading, and I hope it was worth the wait!

The first order of business, Bucky knew, was to show Tony that he was absolutely and without a doubt not on Wanda’s side. Most of the Avengers seemed pretty eager to defend the little witch – something he just couldn’t wrap his head around, if he were being honest. She wasn’t a kid, no matter what Steve said, and she’d been neck-deep in some seriously shady shit of her own volition. And yet he’d been eyed with deep suspicion when he joined the group while most of his housemates seemed happy to hand her the keys to the kingdom.

Since everyone who’d demonstrated themselves to be on her side were clueless as to the tension between her and Tony, Bucky’d come to an obvious conclusion. He’d never find out the ‘why’ of their dynamic until he could show Tony that not only was he not on Wanda’s side, but he was in fact firmly on Tony’s. First thing’s first though – he wasn’t going to trust Bucky even a little until he had some data that showed Bucky didn’t like or trust Wanda. Bucky was happy to provide all the data he could.

His chance came one night at a team dinner. Though they’d been deemed ‘mandatory’ by Stevie, Tony often found a way to wriggle out of them. But their gear was all in tip-top shape, the idiot genius was well-rested, and he was ahead of schedule when it came to his SI projects. That Trifecta of Doom (Tony’s words) meant that Stevie ruthlessly enforced the ‘you must show up and socialize like a normal human being or so help me God’ rule.

Bucky hated that rule.

Still, it meant that Tony joined them for dinner, so it was working in his favor for the moment. The whole team was present except Thor and including the current object of his ire. He knew it was only a matter of time before she gave him an opening.

He would wait.

He could be patient, for Tony’s sake.

~.~.~

“So Rhodes will be here next week?”

“Yeah. My platypus finally convinced his CO’s that he needs me to check over the armor. I wish he’d tell the Air Force to stuff it and just come around to see me more often. I love doing upgrades, but I’d like more time to just hang out and blow shit up. It has been months since I’ve had my hands on my baby though, so I am looking forward to it. If they outfitted War Machine-”

“Iron Patriot.” Steve corrected with an unholy amount of glee, not bothering to duck when Tony chucked a roll at him. The little shit just caught it in his mouth and started to eat it, clearly enjoying the chance to tweak Tony’s nose a bit.

“We do not speak that name in this house, you heathen,” Tony hissed, a playful glint in his eyes. Bucky loved him like this – open and playful, willing to play a role to make them all laugh. “Anyway, like I was saying. If they put any filthy, unreliable HammerTech on War Machine,” he continued, glaring at Steve as he emphasized the name. Stevie just continued to grin unrepentantly. “Then I’m gonna hack the Pentagon again in retaliation.”

“Tony. You can’t-”

“Again?”

“Yes! That is an awesome plan, and I for one am fully in favor!”

“Clint, don’t encourage him. Please.” They were all smiling and chuckling, having a good time and enjoying each others company for once. Even Vision’s lips were curved in a vague expression of humor as Tony announced his plan to play the ‘Numa Numa’ song over the Pentagon’s loudspeakers for at least half an hour or until they got him out of the system – whichever came first. So, of course, Wanda took the opportunity to ruin everything.

“So your ego is so big you cannot allow anyone else to have a hand in your work?” It was fucking unfair that she had such a lyrical, lilting voice and that she could sound so sweet while poking and digging at old wounds. “And your little… prank would put the whole of this country at risk as well, would it not Stark?”

She always spat his name like she was throwing down a gauntlet, and it raised Bucky’s hackles immediately. He’d had handlers address him like that, always trying to push his buttons so they could see where his lines were. It wasn’t done to find boundaries to respect, oh no – it was so they knew exactly where and how hard to prod to make him snap, and then they could laugh as they watched him punished for giving in. No one else but Tony seemed to notice the tone though. They just kept eating, smiling like this was business as usual.

It pissed him off that it really fucking was.

“HammerTech is notoriously unreliable,” Tony told Wanda carefully, most of his good humor already gone. Now he was wary and defensive, readying himself for the attacks he knew were yet to come, prepared to face them alone because the rest of their team was made up of morons. “If the military had someone even halfway competent fiddling with my designs, I wouldn’t mind quite so much. And I’d have Friday monitoring everything at the Pentagon – she’d make sure any actual emergencies trumped the prank.”

“Ah, so we should trust national security to one of your AI’s. It always goes so well.” Wanda’s smile was sharper than the knives Bucky carried hidden on his person at all times, and there was a disturbing glitter in her eyes. Everything in him was screaming that she was a threat, and that he needed to take her down… but if he tried without the backing of the team, he would look like the crazy one. They might decide he needed to be confined and watched again; he couldn’t protect Tony if that happened, so it was imperative he keep calm until the most opportune moment. Everyone else looked uncomfortable now too, which should have made him feel better.

Except the were all of them – all except Vision – side-eying Tony, not Wanda. The slightest, vaguest mention of Ultron, and they were all looking at the genius in suspicion, like he was harboring horrid plans for world domination. It was enough to make him growl softly and clench both hands around his silverware hard enough that he bent the metal. Only Stevie and Nat noticed, or at least they were the only ones who glanced his way. Vision was still staring at his plate and shifting uneasily, while Sam and Clint were watching Tony with narrowed eyes. Wanda, of course, was still staring down Tony. God he wanted to stab the lot of them.

Murder wasn’t necessarily always bad.

Tony was still and wearing the smile he usually broke out for the press when they were being especially vicious. He shouldn’t have to wear that smile in his own fucking home. “Ha. Well, Friday is… she’s a lot more limited than even… than even JARVIS was. More a VI than an AI. Could someone pass the potatoes please?”

Bucky’d been wound tighter than coiled steel for a good five minutes; at the slightest hint that it would please Tony, he’d happily kill Wanda and offer him her head on a silver fucking platter. At the moment, he’d deliver a non-fatal stab wound to the rest of the team with a smile on his lips and a song in his heart. So when Wanda finally, finally gave him an excuse, he maybe overreacted just a little.

Or maybe they’d all been under-reacting for too fucking long.

As soon as the scarlet mist wrapped around the dish that held the scalloped potatoes, Bucky reacted. He didn’t wait to process the cruel glee in the witch’s expression; he didn’t stop to look for the indulgent smile he knew he’d find on Steve’s lips or for the terror that would be in Tony’s eyes. No, with the speed and ease born from years of cruel training at Hydra’s hands, Bucky reached for one of his knives and threw; when he heard the ‘thunk’ of it hitting wood and sticking, he didn’t bother to fight the satisfied smile that briefly curved his lips.

Though he’d barely aimed, the tip of the knife had managed to pierce Wanda’s sleeve as well, drawing a shriek from the woman. Now the little witch’s hand was pinned to her chair, and she was glaring at him with murderous intent. Her surprise had made her lose control of her powers; Nat being on her game was the only thing that saved the potatoes. She caught them before they could hit the table, and it was only after setting them down that she joined the rest of the team (sans Wanda and Bucky) in jumping to her feet and watching Bucky carefully. None of them were side-eying Tony anymore, he noticed cheerfully, and they were even reaching for their weapons. That was a definite improvement, because outta the two of them, he was infinitely more dangerous. He schooled his expression, making it blank as he pinned a dead-eyed stare on Wanda.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she demanded, tugging at the knife. It was in deep enough that it took quite a bit of her strength to pull it free. He was almost sorry she didn’t use her magic to get herself loose; he’d have been happy to go for the other sleeve. Or even her hand, really – he wasn’t feeling too picky just then.

“Keep your magic to yourself, witch,” he ground out, purposefully using something close to his ‘Winter Soldier’ voice. Right now that had everyone even more worried, but in a minute or so it’d land them all firmly on his side in this little spat. If they thought her magic was a trigger… well. It really was, though not in the way they’d think, and it was something he could handle. He’d never have brought it up if it weren’t a way to protect Tony and show him that Bucky was not going to join Wanda’s band of defenders. “We’re not inna fight, and we aren’t training neither. We’ve all got fucking hands, so we can pass shit around like regular folk.”

“Bucky-”

“No, Stevie. Been lettin’ this go long enough. I been tryin’, honest, but – no. She’s Hydra-”

“I am NOT-”

“Oh, not anymore or so you say. But you were, and they’re the ones who gave you those powers! Every time I see ‘em… no. I get it in training, which I understand – gotta learn to work with it if I ever want to be cleared to go out in the field. But I shouldn’t have to think about Hydra every time we sit down to eat!” Stevie’s face had already melted into an expression of warm, anxious concern. Bucky might have felt guilty for milking this if the blond idiot hadn’t left his Tony to suffer alone for so long.

“Buck… why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“… ‘Cause I didn’t wanna hurt team morale.” Oh, Wanda knew he was bullshitting – he could tell by the fury in her eyes. “B’sides, she can mess with my head if she’s mad at me, right? ‘M tired of people fucking around with my brain.” It was true, even if he didn’t let himself think about that too often. He let out a little too much of that, and he hated the vulnerability he could hear in his voice… at least, he hated it until Tony took a step towards him and laid a hand on his shoulder in a show of solidarity.

When Sam tried to do the same thing, Bucky couldn’t help but bare his teeth at his sometimes-friend, sometimes-enemy. “Hey, hey. We aren’t gonna let anyone do that, man. You gotta trust us on that one. Wanda isn’t poking around in anyone’s head. Sometimes she can’t help the vibes she gets, but she’s not purposefully digging for anything. Right?” As Sam looked to Wanda for confirmation, Bucky sent her a mental dare.

He almost hoped she did call BS, because it would prove that she was in his head. And Steve would ask why he’d really done it, which meant they’d all have to talk about the actual issue. Somehow he thought she’d be as eager for that discussion as Tony was… meaning they’d both rather have their spleens operated on with a rusty saw. When she only glowered at him in petulant defeat, he had to fight back the urge to crow – he’d backed her into a corner, alright. Served the bitch right, for making Tony scared, and for forcing him to whip out his press smile in a place where he should feel completely safe.

“Right. I don’t do that anymore.” Wanda told them all stiffly, tossing his knife onto the table in front of Bucky. Tony jerked, like he’d expected the knife to hit him, which fuck that shit all the way back to Russia, and Bucky had had enough.

“Yeah, well I don’t trust you,” he sneered, shoving away from the table as he grabbed first his knife and then his plate. “You were Hydra because you wanted to be. I don’t like Hydra, and I don’t like you. And how’m I supposed ta trust that she’s behavin’ when she can’t even keep her powers under wraps long enough to eat?” he demanded of Sam and – more importantly – Steve, jutting out his jaw stubbornly. “I’ll learn to live with that shit when I hafta, but I don’t need her turnin’ my stomach inside out while I’m tryin’ ta eat. I don’t need to be thinkin’ about that fuckin’ chair-” The way he choked on his words was real, as was the fear that spiked inside of him.

Steve moved to offer him reassurance, but Tony got there first, wrapping his fingers around Bucky’s metal arm and squeezing tightly. Their eyes met, both of them searching, and after a moment Bucky was able to offer him a weak smile. “Thanks doll,” he murmured, shifting so he was between the genius and the witch. “I can’t… I don’t wanna be here right now. Wanna… wanna maybe grab your plate and eat in the ‘shop with me?”

The thing about Steve’s puppy-dog eyes was that he’d learned ‘em late – when he was a skinny bit of nothing, he hadn’t needed to do anything but exist and all the old ladies were desperate to stuff him with food. No, he’d learned to don the pitiful expression later, after his body changed on him and would have denied him free food for the rest of his life. Bucky’d been the one to teach him, and Steve’d never, ever quite reached his level of expertise.

So he wasn’t real surprised when Tony caved after less than a second of Bucky’s sad, soulful eyes begging him to give in; neither was Steve. The rest of them all looked a bit shocked when the genius reached to grab his plate. When Wanda gave a sound that seemed vaguely protesting, Bucky turned to her and delivered a vicious snarl, continuing to put his body between her and his Tony. The man in question seemed to realize it, and the look he shot Bucky before starting towards the elevator was one of both gratitude and consideration.

“I’ll start eatin’ with you lot again when the witch learns to keep her fucking magic under wraps at the dinner table.” He told them all, giving a dismissive sniff and then turning to stalk after Tony. Before the elevator doors closed, he could hear Wanda wailing about the unfairness of it all… but Stevie would have his back. Stevie and Sam would be all for aiding Bucky in his continued recovery, while Nat and Clint would be all in favor of making sure the Winter Soldier never came to dinner uninvited. Vision… Vision he didn’t have much of a read on, but he knew how the discussion would end.

Maybe now Tony could eat with the team more often. It would make the genius happy to spend time with them, and he wouldn’t have to worry that Wanda would use her magic against him. If Bucky kept making sure the bitch’d have to physically go through him to try anything else, that would mean even less stress at dinner, which would mean an even happier Tony! And surely, surely the genius would realize that it was all for him, that Bucky was doing it because he was special. Yup, this first part of the plan had gone off without a hitch.

It was really, really hard to keep a gloating smirk off his face.

~.~.~

“Knock knock.”

“Bucky-babe! You know you don’t have to knock. You have a lifetime free pass to enter this house of madness.” Distracted Tony was always fun to listen to, because he gave out the most ridiculous (sweetest) nicknames and didn’t really pay attention to what was coming out of his mouth. “Honestly I should just set you up a little corner of your own, you’re down here so often. Maybe I’ll get rid of DUM-E and his charging station – yes, you!” he answered the sad, inquiring little whistle. “You know what you did! You’re lucky you aren’t already on your way to McDonald’s to become their latest employee. You’d really shine there, but here you’re almost useless. Don’t droop and give me the sad claw, you pile of metal. Be better and you can stick around.”

A robot shouldn’t be able to sigh soulfully, but somehow DUM-E managed before zooming over to Bucky and tucking his bulky, unwieldy frame against his left side. “Hey, bud. Don’t worry – he loves you too much to give ya up. You know that.” DUM-E only made another sulky noise, trundling along after Bucky close enough to continuously almost trip him as he crossed the floor to where Tony was working. “An’ I don’t need my own space, ya loon. ‘M good just sittin’ on the couch and watchin’ you make the future.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush. God, I’m going to swoon, and the welder is still on. You’re gonna make me burn down the whole tower- DUM-E NO! It was a-”

It was too late – as soon as the word ‘welder’ had been mentioned, the pouting ‘bot cheered and zoomed off to grab his favorite toy. Any idiot would have known how that was going to turn out, and Bucky couldn’t wait for the show. Sure enough, when ‘burn’ left Tony’s mouth, the ‘bot pulled the pin and began to hose down Tony’s work area with abandon.

Moments later, the workbench was covered in white foam, as was Tony’s right side and a good portion of the floor. The welder was off at least when it clattered to the ground, and the genius looked torn between laughter and fury while the poor, hapless DUM-E was doing spins and twirls in celebration, holding the extinguisher aloft. U hurried over to join the party, the ‘bots ‘discussing’ DUM-E’s ‘daring rescue’ as Bucky lost the fight against laughter.

His guffaws only got louder when Tony whirled to face him, a playful scowl on his handsome face. “You think this is funny, Buck-a-boo? You come into my house on the day when I am about to catapult us into the future, and you show such disrespect? In my house, Buck-a-roo? You do this in my own house?”

“That’s not even close ta the fuckin’ quote Tony,” he challenged, grinning and backing away from the approaching and very messy genius – both plates of dinner he carried needed to be kept safe at all costs. “What’re ya doin’? You comin’ after me now? After I slaved over-a hot stove to bring you food?”

“… put the plates down, Bucking Bronco, and it’ll be fine.”

“‘Bucking Bronco’? Really?”

“Shut up and put the plates down.”

“Not ‘til you tell me why.”

“I gotta teach you some respect, Bucky Brewster. Was that one better?”

“You’re fucking nuts.” Still, Bucky did put down their dinner on a surface he deemed safe enough – there was a distinct lack of motor oil, and DUM-E and U were still having a ball with the now-empty fire extinguisher. “There, ya happy now doll?”

“Very. So you think it’s funny that my excitable, idiotic child ruined a full day’s worth of work, do you?”

“Little bit,” Bucky answered casually, loving the sparkle in Tony’s eyes as he continued to advance. He let the man almost get within reach, then danced back again, arching a brow. “You’re the one who talked about shit being on fire when he was around. It’s kinda your fault sweetheart.”

“Really. You think it’s my fault that a fortune in electronics is covered in shitty white foam?”

“Yup.” He returned, making sure to pop the ‘p’ extra loud.

“Then I bet you also think it’s my fault that I’m covered in foam,” he murmured thoughtfully, still coming after Bucky in a slow dance of chase and retreat. They both knew where this was going… and really, Bucky thought the end result would be well worth it. “And you must find it absolutely hilarious to boot.”

“Little bit, yeah.”

“Huh. Interesting.” This time when Tony lunged, Bucky only pretended to evade; he willingly let the genius catch him in his arms, delivering a warm, tight hug… and also a crap ton of the shitty white foam. Worth it, Bucky decided happily, wrapping his own arms around Tony in turn. In a fit of playfulness, he lifted the other man off the floor and twirled him in a circle reminiscent of the ‘bots happy dance. That immediately started the pair of them off again, which made him laugh over the exuberant beeps and whistles. After only a moment, Tony joined in even as he held on for dear life, allowing himself to be swung without complaint. Once he was on the ground though, he punched Bucky’s shoulder lightly and began to scowl.

“Ow! Hey, c’mon now. That was fun – admit it.”

“Whatever. Still funny now that you’re all foam-y?”

“Yup.”

“Loser.”

“Nerd.”

“Ugh.” Turning away, Tony stripped off his tank-top casually, an act Bucky absolutely would have fallen for if it wasn’t for the bit of pink on Tony’s cheeks when he turned back around. “Don’t want foam in my food,” he muttered by way of explanation, and this encounter was officially not funny anymore. Bucky felt his mouth go bone-dry as he allowed his eyes to roam over all of the muscled flesh Tony had on display. He found himself lingering on the scars left behind by the arc reactor, and he wanted more than anything to settle his metal hand over the marks and promise to protect Tony’s heart for the rest of his life.

Thankfully even he wasn’t so far gone that he thought that would be anything other than creepy to the extreme. They were just barely friends! Friends did not go around making sappy declarations like that!

To keep himself from doing it anyway, he shrugged and pulled off his shirt as well, tossing it to the couch. “Good idea. No wonder they gave ya the genius label.”

“Yeah. That’s what did it – my extensive knowledge of when to get naked. Not that I’m going to! Or that you should. Half nude is good. It’s better. It’s best! Because we’re eating dinner, not… uh. Yeah. So. Ducking out on another team dinner, or did you just miss me?”

“Why can’t it be both? I like hanging out with you, and I’m still not convinced that the witch isn’t gonna activate her creepy-ass magic just to mess with me. Steve promised, but… uh. I was wonderin’ if maybe you’d be there? Next time I eat with the whole team I mean,” he elaborated as he grabbed his plate and watched Tony do the same. “I feel like you’re the only other person in this place who doesn’t buy her sob-story one hundred percent. So I’d like it if you were… you know. Around. Just in case. You watch out for me, and I’ll take care-a you. Even trade.”

“… I don’t know. She… ah. She doesn’t like me very much. We have… history. Sucky history. Pain and death and terrible choices and her creepy-ass magic… none of it fun. I don’t… I don’t like to intrude.”

“But you live here too! You should be able ta eat with us if you want. I should feel comfortable eatin’ at the table, or watchin’ movies, or doin’ whatever without worryin’ that she’s gonna be… fuck. I don’t know. Pulling killer rabbits outta hats.”

“That’s not her party trick.”

“Then what is?” At first, Bucky thought he’d pushed too far. Tony paled and set the forkful of food he’d been about to eat back onto his plate with a fairly loud clatter. The man gulped convulsively, and the plate began to shake – no, that was Tony. He was shivering, and there was fear and guilt and self-loathing all jumbled up in his eyes, and Bucky just couldn’t take it. Swearing softly, he dropped his own dinner back on the bench it had been on and crossed to Tony in two quick steps; after removing the genius’ plate from his hands, it was his turn to initiate a hug. This one should have been better, what with all the skin-on-skin contact, and in some ways it was. Tony was warm, though not as warm as Bucky, and their bare chests pressed together would have been cause for a prayer of gratitude and a more thorough exploration if it had happened under different circumstances. As it was, Bucky only pulled Tony close, tucking his head under his chin. “Hey, hey. I’m sorry doll,” he soothed, running one hand up and down Tony’s spine. He hated the way the man trembled, and he felt a vengeful fury building in his heart again.

Most of it was for Wanda – she was the one making Tony so afraid. The little witch had done something, and he was gonna find a way to make her pay. But the rest of them, the whole bunch of Tony’s so-called friends? They’d let it go on. They’d ignored the signs, and Tony’d been carrying this weight all by himself, and it wasn’t fucking fair. He was going to pound them all into the ground, and if he didn’t actually kill Wanda he’d be very proud of his restraint.

“Shouldn’ta asked. Sorry. You don’t gotta say nothin’ Tony. But hey,” here he pulled back a little and took gentle hold of Tony’s chin, tipping it back so their eyes met once more. “I won’t ever let her hurt you, ya know. I’ll do whatever I gotta to make sure she can’t… do whatever the fuck she did again. I mean it. You name it, doll, and it’s fucking done.” When he let go, Tony was quick to hide away again, holding on to Bucky like he was Tony’s anchor.

Bucky liked the thought as much as he hated the way Tony needed one.

“You… you really wanna know?”

“Yeah. I… I wanna know everything about you Tones. But you don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to. This is about you right now, not makin’ me feel better.” Bucky hesitated a moment, then shrugged and threw caution to the wind. In a single easy motion, he lifted Tony up off the ground – he only just managed to grip the back of the man’s thighs instead of his ass. The genius immediately wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist, which was surprising and thrilling in equal measure – he’d expected Tony to protest, maybe even yell and threaten to beat him up if he didn’t let go. This… this was a lot better, and also just a little scary.

Did… did Tony really trust him that much?

That was a question for another time; at the moment he needed to focus on caring for the shaking man in his arms. Bucky walked them over to the couch, then sat down carefully. He thought Tony would scramble to get away from him, or even just slide to one side so he could be close but not in Bucky’s lap. But no – once again his expectations were shattered, because Tony seemed quite happy to stay right where he was. He didn’t even protest when DUM-E wheeled over and draped a worn blanket over the both of them.

“I haven’t… told anyone else. They wouldn’t… I didn’t think they’d believe me.” Tony whimpered into his bare shoulder, rousing every protective instinct Bucky possessed.

“Well I’m gonna believe you, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You won’t… you won’t be mad?”

“Why’d I be mad, doll? It’s the witch who hurt you, not the other way ‘round.”

“… I’m not trying to deny responsibility. I know it was my fault, and it was my idea. Even Bruce wasn’t sure, and I bullied him into… it was all my fault. It’s on me, and I know that. I’m not trying to… to blame her. It was originally my idea, and anyway the rest of the team shook it off fine. So I should have been okay. I was okay. It wasn’t even affecting me by the time I… I know it was my fault Bucky, I promise. I’m not trying to m-make you hate her, or make it seem like-”

“Hey, hey… easy sweetheart. Easy.” Bewildered and not quite sure what exactly Tony was talking about, Bucky just held him closer and stroked his hands over the expanse of the man’s back. It felt almost like Tony was a horse about to spook; if he didn’t do this right, Tony would run, and he’d never have this chance again. He had to do this right. “You take responsibility better’n anyone I know, and I know Steve Rogers. You never avoid shouldering your fair share of the blame – more than your share, most times. So… don’t worry ‘bout that, or me being mad. And I hate to break this to you doll, but I hated Wanda way before you’n me started hangin’ out.” That got a choked little sob of a laugh, and Bucky vowed to set the whole goddamned world aflame if it didn’t stop hurting the guy he loved.

“Right… right. You never did seem to… and you said… and you… right. Okay. It’s… it’s about Ultron.”

Somehow, as soon as those words were out of Tony’s mouth and they slotted with the rest of the word-vomit the genius had spewed, Bucky knew that there was a good chance he was going to commit murder before the night was over. If this was what he thought it was…

Well. It just might be time for a good old fashioned witch hunt.

#WinterIron #my fic #What Has Been Done #Tony Stark #Bucky Barnes #Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes #anonymous prompt

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spookysummersmores · 8 years ago

Text

Peppermint Winter

Summary: Just some snow day shenanigans for all Pines family fluff needs. ^-^

Rating: K

Word count: 2,159 (o m g)

Author's note: Hello, everyone! So...I drew a Pines family bonding pic a few weeks before Christmas, and I decided to write a fic involving the Pines family enjoying winter break together! Meant to have this up before Christmas, but...oh well! Also, I realize that Stan and Ford would most likely have been out at sea during Christmas of 2012, so this is just noncanon silliness...heehee..xD

This is the first legitimate fanfic I've written in literal years, so I certainly hope that it's alright, and I also hope you enjoy! ^-^

"Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, come on!"

Stan and Ford laughed. "Alright, alright, we're on our way!" Ford called out. He ran out after the kids, trying to pull his six-fingered gloves on as he went. "Not so fast, now!"

"You goofball kids're gonna kill us," Stan teased as he locked the house up. "Just leave us old men in the dust; don't mind us!"

Dipper and Mabel were already about thirty feet ahead of their two great-uncles, eager to jump right into the winter wonderland all around them. It was the Saturday before Christmas, and a huge snowstorm had hit Gravity Falls the night before, blanketing it in soft, pure-white snow. Being native to California, the kid twins hadn't really seen much snow, and their winter-in-summer experience earlier that year was too packed with paranormal insanity for it to be much of a carefree snow day.

The second the twins were far enough from the Shack, Mabel dropped the sled she'd been dragging with her and let herself fall backwards into a pile of fluff. "Ohhhhh my gosh, this is amazing!" she cried happily. "It's like swimming in an ocean made of clouds!"

Dipper sat down on a fallen tree beside her. "I know, right?! Hard to believe frozen rain could make something so...well, for lack of a better word, cool." He looked down at Mabel and snickered at what he saw. She'd practically been swallowed by the snowbank she'd fallen into, and it was quite a comical sight. "Having fun there? Trying to become a human marshmallow?" he snarked lightheartedly.

"You know it!" Mabel cheered. Then, she started giggling. "Maybe you should...chill out and check it out for yourself!"

"Wait, what're you- AAH!" Dipper barely had time to react before Mabel grabbed his arms and dragged him into the massive snowbank with her. Rather than get angry with her, though, he just started laughing, as did she.

Stan and Ford finally caught up with the kids - just in time to see Dipper threatening to stuff snow down Mabel's coat. They couldn't help but start laughing themselves. "What are you knuckleheads doin'?" Stan asked.

"Getting even!" Dipper said with a grin, though he had already dropped the handful of snow he had.

"Never!" Mabel cried from behind her sled shield.

Ford tried his best to keep his composure. "Didn't take long for you two to get used to the cold, huh?" he said, laughing all the while. He then knelt down beside them. "So...what do you think of this? Isn't it remarkable?"

"Honestly? Christmas movies don't do it justice," Dipper quickly replied.

"Right? California, you need to up your game," Mabel agreed. "This is what a real winter looks like!"

Stan chuckled. "Jeez, Sixer, maybe this was a mistake. I don't think the kids care for it!" he joked. He straightened up, hands on his hips. "So...we finally caught up with ya speedin' bullets. Whaddya think we should do now?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other and grinned, as if each knew exactly what the other was thinking. When they turned back around to face the grunkles, Dipper said, "I think you're gonna have to catch us again.'

"What?" replied the Stan twins in confusion.

In an instant, the little twins boarded Mabel's toboggan and beckoned for their great-uncles to board the other. The challenge had been set. It was up to Stanley and Stanford Pines to accept their mission.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me..." Stan said, trying to act mad, but laughing anyway. "Alright. If it's a race they want, it's gonna be a race the're never gonna forget!" He quickly hopped onto the front of the sled and motioned for Ford to get behind him. "Hop on, brother."

"Ohhh, no. Last time I ever let you lead the way, we both spent half of President's Day weekend cleaning up Mrs. Sebastianelli's front lawn," Ford responded, fondly remembering that weekend, as monotonous as that had been.

"Aw, c'mon! We were eleven then! And we did 'er a favor, in my opinion. How many garden gnomes does one lady need?" Stan said, trying to justify his terrible steering. "We can both drive now. What's the worst that could happen?"

Ford just shook his head and tried to keep from laughing out loud as he boarded the sled. "I have a feeling I'm going to live to regret this..."

"Alright, grunkles!" Mabel cheered. She and Dipper braced themselves. "On the count of three!"

The whole family joined in. "One...two...three!"

Trees and homes raced by at rocket speed. Soon, Dipper and Mabel's toboggan came to a stop, and they were able to catch their breath for just a moment.

"Holy...cheese balls..." was the only thing Mabel could bring herself to say.

"I don't know about you...but I...am so doing that again," Dipper said, and the twins highfived each other. Then, Dipper realized something. "Um...where are-"

There was a commotion at the bottom of the next hill. Then came the strangest sounding crash Dipper and Mabel had ever heard.

Quickly, they left the sled behind and ran down after Stan and Ford. When they spotted the grunkles, they were buried in snow beneath a massive pine tree.

"Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! Are you guys okay?" Mabel said, a little worried.

"Don't worry, pumpkin. Everything's-" More snow fell from the pine needles above...right onto Stan's face."Fine."

Ford didn't say anything at first. He was too busy spitting out pine needles. Then, the two brothers looked at each other and burst out laughing. The kids sighed with relief before joining in.

"That...was more fun than racing the rulers of Kartylon 7," Ford finally managed to say. "I say a rematch is in order! Only this time..." He shot Stan a face that screamed, 'I will never let this go as long as we both live'. "I am definitely driving."

The day was filled to the brim with fun, and yet it seemed to fly by in an instant. The Pines family spent hours racing each other and still found the time to build a family of snow-folk in their image - including a tiny snow-pig. It wasn't until the grunkles noticed the kids beginning to shiver that Ford remembered to check his watch.

"How on Earth is it this late already?" Ford remarked. "Alright, kids, come along...we'd better get you two home before you freeze."

"Aw, man...." said the twins in unison. As cold as they were, they hated for such fun to come to an end.

"C'mon, kiddos. No way're we lettin' you kids get pneumonia or somethin'," Stan said. "Besides, who says we can't have fun on th'way back home?"

That gave Ford an idea. As Stan picked Mabel up and mounted her on his shoulders, Ford whispered something to her, making sure to stay clear of Stan's bad ear so he couldn't catch onto their plan. Mabel giggled to herself, but kept it secret. With that, Ford took hold of the kids' sleds, and the little family made its way back home.

The clouds had begun to clear, and the beginning of a cotton-candy sunset was starting to tint the mounds of white glitter pale pink. All was serene for a short while as the family admired their surroundings. The only sound was the quiet crunching of the snow beneath their feet.

All of a sudden, a fit of giggling broke the silence. "Oh, Grunkle Staaa-aaan..."

Stan glanced up. What he saw was Mabel with her tongue sticking out and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She was dangling a little ball of glittering white fluff directly above his face, playfully threatening to drop it at any moment.

Stan had to chuckle at that. "If you drop that on me, I'm takin' ya up t'Mount Hood and leavin' ya there," he said, his threat not sounding the least bit serious.

Ford and Dipper both cracked up. "How did you even manage to make a snowball from all the way up there?" Dipper asked.

"My secret weapon!" Mabel announced proudly. She scooped mounds of snow off of nearby tree branches to demonstrate.

"Nuh-uh. Don't you dare! There will be heck t'pay!" Stan said.

Mabel feigned defeat. "Okay..."

The silence returned for a minute. Then...

Plop.

"Oh, that's it!"

Stan dropped Mabel down in the snow and immediately began working on a giant snowball as she tried to escape. He was hardly able to pick his ammo up below he received another blow to the head. When he spun around, there was Ford, grinning at him with childish glee, and Dipper wasn't too close behind.

"And that, dear brother, is what you get for ramming me into a tree."

"You...little..." Stan wiped the snow off the back of his head, dumbfounded. "Y'put 'em up to this, didn't ya?"

"What can I say?" Dipper shrugged. "Couldn't pass up the opportunity to get you back for a summer full of noogies." He, too, flashed Stan an impish grin.

It was then that the all-out war began.

The four of them chased each other all the way back up the hill to the Christmas-light-coated back porch of the Mystery Shack. Snowballs weren't the only thing that flew. Hats and earmuffs of various colors and sizes flew, too, as they were knocked off by the shots being fired. Excellent hits were had by all, but Dipper surprised everyone, for several snowballs he fired showed that he had potential to be quite the skilled marksman with more practice. By the time the Pines family reached the backyard, everyone was exhausted, and a silent truce was called, but Stan wasn't done with anybody just yet.

"Oh - look out! We're in a snowglobe and somebody's about to shake it!" he cried out, playfully tackling the kids to the ground. Ford attempted to sneak away, but Stan was having none of that. "Ohhh, no, don't think you're getting' out of this, Poindexter; you started this!" Stan quickly dragged him into the mess, and the whole family collapsed into a happy pile of giggles.

It wasn't long before everyone was inside, dressed in dry clothing, and seated down in front of the fireplace with blankets, pizza, and big mugs of hot chocolate.

"Y'think Soos'n'his grandma are gettin' in on this, too, up at his cousin's place?" Stan inquired. "Christmas, or whatever have ya, isn't the same if it isn't white."

"Oh, definitely. The northernmost part of the state is getting hammered," Ford replied with a chuckle.

Stan laughed, too, and was about to ask the kids what movie he should put in out in the living room...until he saw that both of them were beginning to fall asleep. "Aww, Ford...look at this..."

Dipper and Mabel quickly sat up, stretching a little bit. "I'm not sleepy," Mabel mumbled, holding Waddles closer to her.

"We never said you were, you silly goose," Ford teased gently, a warm smile on his face as he ruffled her hair.

"Thank you, guys..." Dipper suddenly said with a yawn.

"Whatever for?"

"For the awesome snow day," Mabel piped up quietly, drifting off to sleep as she spoke. "If today was any indication...this is gonna be the best Christmas ever..."

"Aw, sweetie..." Stan smiled. "Little early t'say that, isn't it? Christmas hasn't even started-"

"Stanley..." Ford put a finger to his lips and pointed at the kids. Both of them were already fast asleep.

"Ha! Jeez...that was fast," Stan laughed, only remembering to lower his voice halfway through the sentence. Rather than disturb the children, he and Ford simply pulled their blankets up over them (and Waddles as well, for Mabel had resorted to hugging him in her sleep as if he were a plushie) to keep them warm.

"You remember when we used to be like that?" Ford said.

"Yeah," Stan replied, laughing. "Y'know, Ma said that one time, on New Year's, she practically had to drag both of our butts into bed 'cause we were sacked in front of the TV waiting' for the ball t'drop."

Ford tried not to laugh too loudly. "Oh, God, I haven't thought about that in a long time...don't remember a thing about that night, and I wasn't even drunk." He paused for a moment. "Speaking of dragging kids to bed...do you think maybe we should take the kids up to-"

He happened to turn around just in time to see that Stan himself, with his arm around Mabel and Dipper, was beginning to drift off. He smiled to himself. "You know what? Never mind..." He reached over and turned off the lamp. "Goodnight, Stanley. Goodnight, kids," he whispered.

Stan was still awake enough to hear. "'Night, brother. Sweet dreams, kids."

Ford was the last to fall asleep. He pulled a blanket up over himself, wrapped his own arm around the kids, and once he was warm and content in the company of his family, he let the crackling of the dying fire lull him to sleep.

#gravity falls #Grunkle Stan #grunkle ford #Mabel Pines #dipper pines #pines family #family love #fluff #winter #Danni's drabbles #gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction

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