#The attendant and the cowpoke | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gossipsnake · 3 months ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake) Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) and Ford (written by Nash) SUMMARY: Anita, Kaden, Monty, and farmhand Ford all sign up to take part in the three-legged race at the Prickly Pear Acre's party when a switcheroo throws everyone off their game. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

In her human form, speed was not something Anita was exceptional at - her shorter stature, while helpful in other areas, was certainly not an asset in this particular area. That did not stop her from deciding, almost immediately upon seeing the sign up sheet at the Prickly Pear Acres party, that she was going to compete in and win the three-legged race. She had arrived to Monty’s party alone which meant that she had the option to scope the party for the perfect race partner without having to feel obligated to sign up with whomever she had arrived with. She figured that would be the downfall of many race participants.

Instead, Anita decided that she would find a way to make her height work for her by finding a partner of a near exact height so that their strides would be in sync. That resulted in much of her party chit-chat being height-based and most of her time checking out the woman at the party spent assessing their shoes for race practicality. Most, not all. Several of the first few people she approached thought she was being “too intense” about the race and needed to “relax” because “it’s just a party.” Their lack of commitment ruled them out as suitable race partners before their words could have, anyway.

Eventually she had found someone of acceptably similar height with sensible shoes who was willing to race alongside her to victory, and Antia wrote their names down on the sheet - Anita and Dorothy - just in time before the event was getting ready to begin. She scanned the list for their competition which wasn’t particularly helpful as she only knew a handful of the names. That did not change her confidence in victory. “Is there a prize for the victors?” she asked, to nobody in particular, as she approached the area where the race was set up.

—

As much as Kaden had hoped he could get away with not participating in too many of the more ridiculous games at the party, he knew there was no way he could avoid them entirely – not given who he was dating. Whatever, it would probably be fun, whatever it was he got roped into, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Three-legged race, huh?” he said to his partner as they approached the sign up sheet. Putain. They were going to look ridiculous, weren’t they? Kaden wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he jotted down their names.

He recognized a lot of them but he wasn’t worried about anyone on that list. Sure, he was going to look stupid, but he was also sure they were going to win. They may be almost a foot difference in height between them both but Kaden had a plan. “Remember to stand on my foot. And if you can get your knee closer to mine, that should help.” He’d been strategizing a lot more than he wanted to admit for something so trivial but he knew damn well that Monty was as competitive as he was, if not more.

Kaden had to admit, he was surprised to see Anita ready and eager to race. “Victors?” he repeated. “Pretty big title for someone winning a hobbling race.” Now that he considered it, he didn’t know a whole lot about her one way or the other. For all he knew she did this regularly and was a three-legged race champion. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing in this town. “What makes you think you’re going to win, anyway?”

—

Monty was not especially familiar with American party games, or… party games in general, if he was honest with himself. What was the last party he’d been to? Anita had invited him to her birthday, but he’d ended up backing out at the last minute, too anxious to attend. It was partly the fault of his paranoia due to everything going on with the farm lately, but really mostly just social anxiety. He was awkward and quiet, at least until you put a fútbol in front of him. And that hadn’t been added to the roster of activities for tonight, for a number of reasons… one of which was maybe his excessively competitive nature.

The joke was on everyone that had pitched in these ideas, though, because Monty was discovering that he could be competitive about damn near anything.

Nodding along with Kaden’s suggestions, he could see them winning. Could feel it, and was grinning broadly as the other contestants lined up near the starting point. Anita was there (he was so glad to see her again, and glad she’d forgiven him for being too chicken to go to her extravagant party), her partner, and a few others. Seeing Ford hovering around with his partner as well, Monty gave him an energetic wave. Ford was… familiar with Monty’s “exuberance” when it came to their weekly games of fútbol.

“Yeah, Anita! Kaden and I have a plan… we’re definitely going home with… whatever the prize is. Is there a prize?” He had no idea — Daisy had been in charge of that. As if summoning her with a thought, the zombie smiled at his friend as she strolled up to the group, clapping her hands together to get their attention.

“Alrighty, y’all! I see everyone has signed up with their racin’ partners… bettin’ you’ve all been busy strategizin’... which is why we’ve decided to throw a little wrench in your game. Folks, we are switchin’ y’all up!” Monty’s eyes went wide as Daisy started shuffling everyone around, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him over to where Ford was, and doing the same to Kaden, sticking him with Anita. “No! Wait! Our plan!” he complained, barely holding onto the rope that Daisy shoved into his arms with a smirk.

—

When it came to pretty people, Ford was a sucker. All of his life, and undead one at that, he’d been willing to do the stupidest things just to put a smile on the face of someone he was trying to impress and it seemed party games were not an exception to that rule. As soon as the girl’s arm was around his waist, twisting him towards the sign ups for the three legged race, he was in. Generally, he didn’t care if they won or not, just as long as he got to be stuck to the woman’s side for the whole ordeal. Besides, if they lost he could at least console her afterwards.

Lining up, he flashed a bright smile over towards Monty and his boyfriend, noting that with those two entering the fun that he was definitely going to have a good time after the games. He didn’t have the fire in him to match his boss’ energy for competition, he was just there for a good time. Add Kaden into it and no one else stood a chance. Not even the attractive woman throwing smack their way.

His grin was wiped off his face with Daisy’s words, the farmhand ready to have some words with her when she took the hand of his partner and led her away to someone else. He was still staring after the girl when Daisy brought Monty to his side and declared them partners for this one. It could have been worse he supposed but there was definitely no consoling the man if they didn’t win.

Seeing the distress of his boss, Ford allowed his bright smile to slip back onto his lips and, after one more look at the girl he was trying to impress, he turned to Monty and shrugged. “So, tell me the plan, bud. We got this. I just hope Kaden doesn’t try to railroad us since he knows the tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.” Taking the rope from Monty’s hand, he bent to start tying them together as Daisy seemed to be pushing for things to start now so no more protesting could reach her ears. Man, she had some complaints coming her way. “What tricks are we talking about again?”

—

“Yes, the victors. That is how to accurately describe people who win at competitive events.” Anita huffed. She had never been able to put her finger on it but there was something about Kaden that ever so slightly irked Anita. But she liked Monty a great deal, so considering that he must have seen something redeemable in his partner, she opted to extend the benefit of the doubt. She smiled at Monty, finding his optimism endearing even if it was misplaced. “What makes me so confident?” she gestured towards her partner, then showed off their compatible height by standing back-to-back with her. “We will move as one down this racetrack. That is what makes me confident.”

Anita had been sizing up the other competition - literally, trying to assess if there was a more perfect height match pairing - when she heard the farmhand organizing the event say that they would be getting reassigned partners. “No, no, no! You can’t do that. There is nothing in the rules that said we could not strategize! There is no rule against informed planning!” She tried to reach out and grab her perfectly sized original partner's hand as Daisy dragged her away, but it was pointless. Looking over, and up, Anita saw that her new pair of shared legs belonged to Kaden. “Mierda. You are far too tall.”

Not letting this shake her confidence, Anita began working on tying their legs together with the provided rope. Her eyes drifted over to Monty and his new partner. It was almost laughable how much better of a height match they were than she and Kaden. “You better not throw this race just so your vaquero can win.”

—

“Putain de merde,” Kaden grumbled at the news. There went all the strategizing. Even worse, he had to look stupid with Anita instead of Monty. On top of that, he had to beat his hyper competitive partner now. Still, Kaden scoffed at the woman as she suggested that he’d throw the race. “Please. I couldn’t let his ego get that big intentionally.” He took a deep breath and tried to assess the new situation. He didn’t know Anita very well but there was no denying the competitive drive she displayed. That was going to have to be enough.

“Okay so the best thing to do is for you to stand on my foot and then–” He barely got a full sentence out before Daisy was shouting at them to line up, walking by to double check the rope on each pair. Clearly Daisy didn’t trust them not to overthink that, too. Which, alright, that was probably fair. Before they could strategize much further, the countdown was starting.

“Hold on and keep your knee here. No, here.” He wasn’t sure why he bothered, Daisy had shouted “GO!” well before they could get their shit together. All they could do was hobble as fast as they could. Kaden had his arm around Anita, gripping her waist possibly a little tighter than was comfortable. It was hard to temper his hunter strength completely while in the throws of competition. He wished he could say they were graceful and gliding across the field, but that was far from the reality of the situation. If anything, they were consistently on the edge of tripping over and falling flat on their faces. It didn’t matter because all that mattered was they were a hair ahead of Monty and Ford. Which meant they had to keep going, however stupid and ungainly they were in the moment.

“Come on, come on, come o–” Kaden felt his toe hit onto a root and he did everything in his power to keep his balance, holding onto Anita for dear life. It was up to her to keep them upright and secure the win.

—

“Oh, he’s going to try and railroad us,” Monty complained with a laugh, letting Ford tie their legs together and casting a good-natured glare in his boyfriend’s direction. “But that’s okay, we aren’t gonna take it lying down!” Before he could explain the tricks Kaden had come up with, Daisy was shouting at them to begin. Monty grabbed onto Ford’s arm and started to drag their restrained legs forward—they weren’t any closer in height than he and Kaden, and there was a distinct lack of coordination between them. Monty tried to get his foot on top of Ford’s but couldn’t position it without nearly toppling over now that they were all already on the move.

“¡Oye! Vamanos!” he hollered, seeing Kaden and Anita start to pass them up. He was half shouting and half laughing as he tried again to get his foot where it needed to be so that the taller of them could guide their steps. “I’ve got to—just—ah!” It was no use, and Monty was getting more and more stressed the farther behind they fell. He noticed Kaden nearly tripping on something and bent over, quickly pulling off the boot of his free foot in mid-step and hucking it at Kaden’s legs, hoping to trip him up even more.

—

“Oh, man, they don’t look happy.” To be fair, Ford hadn’t been very happy either but he at least liked his partner. Those two looked at each other like they would rather be anywhere else. It was more amusing than anything. He’d just secured the rope, the farmhand trying to listen to Monty as he listed off tips, but Daisy was in a menacing mood it seemed as she shouted for them all to go. Ford almost stumbled as Monty took off. He quickly found his footing but it didn’t seem he was quick enough as Kaden and his partner started to pass.

It was Monty’s shouts that had Ford grinning, amused at how wound up all of these people could get over a silly little game. “I’m going, I’m going!” He laughed out the words, trying his best to pick up the pace but things weren’t looking so good for the two of them as Monty tried to get a foot onto his own. “Come on, cowboy, you got this! I can’t slow down or I might get fired by the end of this.” It was all in good fun, of course…at least to him, it was.

It was impressive the way Monty was able to pull that shoe off and his laugh rang out to mix in with all the cheers of people watching the game as it was tossed towards their main competition. The dirty tricks gave Ford the idea to wrap an arm around Monty’s waist and carry him the rest of the way, running like hell, but he had a feeling that Daisy wouldn’t allow them to enjoy that win. With the stumble though, it looked like the two of them might pass and get their lead back. “Way to kick em’ while they’re down, boss. You want me to grab Kaden’s collar and pull him back too?”

Not having to be told twice to stand on Kaden’s foot, Anita got herself into position even as the organizer hurried everyone along to the starting point of the race. He wanted her to keep her knee in a position that was not realistic, though. “You are too tall!” She yelled very quickly into the race starting. His frustrating physical qualities did not stop her, however, from working as valiantly as she possibly could to keep pace and rhythm with him. But every move they made felt so clunky. She was overextending herself trying to match his stride and for a moment she felt like he was about to lift her right off the ground and carry her to the finish line like an american football. Which, of course, would be cheating. Three feet on the ground at all times. There were rules. This was a civilized game.

It was working, mostly, until Kaden opened his mouth. As if Anita needed a verbal reminder to keep going. Monty and his partner, Ford, had just fallen far enough behind to no longer be in her peripheral vision when she began to see something far more troubling. Kaden lost his balance; killing whatever momentum the pair had been gaining.

As he clung onto her waist tighter, Anita instinctively let scales replace the fleshy skin of her abdomen to provide a more sturdy base for him to cling to. But it didn’t matter because their host wasn’t interested in a fair race. The boot did more than just hit its intended target and after making contact with the back of Kaden’s legs, the weight of the boot’s heel came crashing down onto Anita’s ankle. The pain stung. Under better circumstances she may have been able to power through. Desperately, she tried to keep the two of them upright, grabbing onto Kaden’s arm to pull him forward and upright, but much like a Jenga tower that couldn’t stand to lose any more structural integrity their fate was practically sealed.

—

“No, you’re too sh– Putain!” Kaden shouted as something hit his leg. The fuck was that? He craned around to see Monty with one goddamn shoe on and a boot sitting on the ground behind Anita and Kaden’s conjoined leg. “You little shit!” he called out as he scrambled to get himself and Anita upright.

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the chill down his spine or if that was just some weird result of being hit by his boyfriend’s boot in the back of the leg. There was no time to examine that. The only thing he had time to do was grab onto Anita and stumble forward for dear life. Obviously that’s what the three legged race was: a life or death situation.

They had fallen behind, of course, but only by a little. Both of them had taken a tumble so they were practically neck and neck now. There were other people in the race, sure, but the only person he needed to beat was Monty. He only had eyes for him. “Two can play that game,” he grumbled to himself. “Hold on,” he told Anita as he threw his shoulder into Ford, trying to knock them off balance. Sure, it hadn’t helped his balance any but that wasn’t the point.

—

Before Monty could tell Ford that he absolutely should grab Kaden’s collar, the aforementioned Frenchman was throwing his weight into Ford, knocking all four of them to the ground. Monty erupted with laughter, slapping the ground in defeat as he pushed Ford’s weight off of him, knowing there was no way they were even finishing this thing, now. The other racers were already crossing the finish line, leaving them in the proverbial dust.

“Ah! You got too greedy!” he chastised Kaden, as if he hadn’t done the same exact thing. Daisy came walking their way, hands on her hips and her head shaking from side to side as she tried to look disappointed through her laughter. “Anita, I am sorry for hitting you with my boot.”

“Well!” Daisy exclaimed as she stood over them, “Ain’t this just a sight! Y’all cost poor Ford his win to impress his date!” She gave the other farm hand a wink, reaching out a hand to help him (and Monty) up. “That’s okay, though… she ended up winnin’ without you, so I think it’s your turn to be impressed, buddy.”

—

The impact of Kaden rushing into him threw Ford completely off. Normally he had better balance than this but with his leg tied to another and the surprise factor the zombie felt himself tumbling over his own partner, an ‘oof’ escaping him with the feel of the other two’s weight falling on top of him. Soon, after the dizzying stars had cleared his vision, his laughter joined Monty’s, glad that his boss had enough humor to see the fun in all of this. That’s what the games were about anyway.

He sat up after being pushed off of his boss, the palms of his hands hitting the ground between his legs with a sharp ‘slap’ as Daisy walked over to the four of them. Nodding at her words, Ford looked over to where his friend was jumping up and down with her partner and his grin grew wider. “Hey, even better. This means I get to give her the victory kiss.” His gaze went back to his coworker as he winked. “It’s a win-win, really.” And then he looked around at everyone else on the ground with him, grimacing. “Sorry, guys…you all just lose, I guess. But this was a lot of fun.”

Before she could even protest the clearly ill-conceived idea, Kaden was hurdling his body into Ford and Monty. His body, which was tied to hers. As they tumbled to the ground, a jumbled mess of limbs, Anita watched as her original chosen partner crossed over the finish line. She didn’t waste a moment untying herself from Kaden, fuming at the loss that she would surely attribute solely to him. “Your boot wouldn’t have been able to hit me if we had been moving faster.”

The sting of the loss would wear off by the time she was able to get a margarita in her hand, but until that moment, Anita had little desire to sit around and collect grass stains while laughing about how quickly her winning strategy was torn away from her. In fairness, it was not really Monty, or Ford, or even Kaden who was to blame. Glaring up at the woman standing over them, the woman who cost her victory, she huffed “If anyone cost him a chance to impress his date it was you. Separating everyone.”

Anita brushed off her dress as she stood up. “I cannot think of a good lie to explain why I am leaving, so I am just going to leave. Not the party,” she said, looking towards Monty, “there is much more to do here at the party. But you are an awful racing partner.” That time, directing her gaze to Kaden. Without waiting for a response, she turned and left, dispersing into the crowd of guests as she hoped to find a way to redeem her party ego.

—

Despite everything, Kaden was doubled over laughing at how silly the whole thing was. They looked like idiots, all of them, but not the way he anticipated they would. No, in fact they looked stupider. He wanted to roll his eyes at Anita storming off, too, but he couldn’t stop cackling. “You’re welcome,” he shouted as she walked away, wiping the dirt off his pants (at least some of it) and pushing himself off the ground. “Sure sounds like you’re the real winner, though,” he said to Ford, giving him a pat on the shoulder before he headed off to go give Dorothy that kiss.

Kaden wrapped an arm around his partner, relieved that they were no longer temporary rivals, and scrunched up his face to make it look like he was deep in thought. “You know, in that case, if she gets a victory kiss, I’m pretty sure that means I get a loser’s kiss.” He grinned ear to ear before leaning in to steal a kiss from his partner. “Yeah, still pretty good.” It was nice, to finally have a moment where they could all just relax, have a good time. Things had been so tense lately after the last month or so. The change in pace was more than welcome. And there was still plenty of time left in the night.

#get wrecked #monty #kaden #ford #farmers only #para #thread #p:kaden #p:monty #p:ford #writing

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howdy-cowpoke · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Before ‘The Sound of Silence’ LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) SUMMARY: Two ding dongs come to visit Monty and play in a fútbol match with a bunch of zombies. There is jealousy and confused feelings abound. CONTENT WARNINGS: extreme dumbasses (:

—

What do you get when you mix together a bunch of zombies, a werewolf, and a ranger? A good time, surely!

Of course Monty didn’t know that Kaden was a ranger, or a hunter of any type, but that was beside the point. The point was that two out of three of his favorite people that he didn’t see on a daily basis (sorry, Daisy) had come to kick a fútbol around and have a good time, with the promise of barbeque and drinks afterward. Now the zombies had their own special patties for grilling, but Daisy had made sure to set aside some actual beef for their very alive guests. It was just a matter of making sure that those two got the right meat. Easy!

All the participating farm hands were clad in their various matching t-shirts, one team red and the other blue. Monty was wearing blue and Daisy red when the first guest arrived, earning excited waves from them both. “Gael!” Monty called him over, chucking a blue shirt at him when he was within range. “You’re with me, amigo!” Daisy smiled broadly and gave a shake of her head.

“Good luck fightin’ him for the ball, dear. He’s a freakin’ hog.”

They’d only been making small talk for a few minutes when Kaden arrived in his truck, pulling up with the rest of the vehicles parked by the large side yard with the makeshift goals set up and ready to go. As he approached, Monty plucked the rolled up red shirt from beneath his arm and held it out for Kaden to take. “As promised, we’re frenemies for the afternoon,” he said, sounding perhaps a bit more shy than he had a few moments ago. “But blue team is definitely going to kick your butt, so don’t get an ego just yet.”

— When Monty suggested that Gael attend his session of fútbol, the professor wasn’t sure to expect but he was always down to have a little bit of friendly sport. He pulled up in his mini-cooper, parked it in its familiar spot and he didn’t have to look around for very long when he heard Monty’s voice. He turned his head, tilting it slightly as he heard his name - a small habit he picked up some odd months ago - and waved the group down. “Hola!” He called himself, approaching them just as he saw a blue blur tossed his way and he clumsily caught it. Blue shirt, just like the one Monty was wearing. “Oh good, so you can carry me to victory,” Gael laughed, deciding to remove his own t-shirt and exchange it for that one rather than wear two t-shirts at once. “It’s fine that he’s a ball hog, I tend to shy away from it because I don’t want to be kicked,” He admitted, pulling the white shirt off his back, balling it up and tossing it off to the side where he assumed it would be out of the way. “It’s always nice to see you again, Ms. Daisy,” He gave her a smile from the neckhole of his shirt as he slipped it on, just in time to hear Monty greet someone else, someone he perceived as familiar enough to drop something into his tone - was it… What was it? He still heard it clearly but whatever it was just made him smile a little wider, thankful that whoever it was made Monty happy. He adjusted the shirt and turned to regard the third person. “Oh hey,” Gael greeted himself, confidently but not aggressively approaching the stranger, a taller man with well-tended brown hair and a rather nice jawline. “Gael.” He said in an exhale, holding his hand out for the other to shake.

—

When Kaden pulled into the grass at the farm, he couldn’t help but look in the rearview mirror and run his hands through his hair, just making sure it looked alright. It was stupid to even bother, he was about to play football for fucks sake. Nervous habit, all the same.

Putain. By the number of cars parked in the yard already, it was clear he was probably the last to show up. He figured that’d be the case since he had to swing by the shelter earlier in the morning. He wanted to make sure the kennels weren’t housing any monsters that had been picked up on his day off. It happened more often than it should have and he had to be careful about how he handled those situations. Usually, it was best to do it when Marge wasn’t working. It was easier to tell her the animals got adopted rather than break her heart with the reality of the situation.

Right, enough stalling. Kaden got out of the car and saw Monty and Daisy almost immediately, giving them a small wave. He was already smiling, wasn’t he? Putain de merde, he brushed his hand across his face and beard, hoping he could hold the dopey grin off a little longer. Yeah, good luck with that. His stomach had already flipped upside down three times over. “That’s fine by me, I’ve got the best player on my team. Right, Daisy?” He flashed her a smile as he pulled off his t-shirt, swapping it for the red one.

Kaden turned to toss the shirt he brought with him towards his truck and was met with a new face when he turned back. Merde, he nearly missed that there was anyone else there, if he was being honest. “Kaden,” he said, taking his hand in his own. The smile that was still spread across his face faltered as a familiar sensation shot through him.

Putain de merde.

He was so used to being around Alex, he almost missed it. But shaking hands, there was no mistaking that Gael was a werewolf.

Shit, he probably looked like a jerk or just fucking weird. He cleared his throat and tried to act normal. Not that he was well versed in what that looked like. “Uh, yeah nice to meet you. Have you, um, known Monty long?” And did he know what sort of danger he was in being around a werewolf that for all Kaden knew could lose control at any second. Putain, he’d been worried about keeping his focus with Monty around but this wasn’t going to help, that was for sure.

—

“That’s right, sugar!” Daisy said with a wink, her brows raising when Kaden peeled off his shirt, just as they had when Gael had done the same. As the two men introduced themselves to one another, a few of the other farm hands had scurried over to see the much-gossiped about newcomers to their game, all appropriately informed that these men were not undead and to be chill about it. That wouldn’t stop the gawking, of course, especially since most of them were relatively young, which was why so many of them needed a place like this to live and work and stay out of trouble. Monty never made a habit of asking too much about their past unless they wanted to share it, but there was a good chance he was the oldest zombie on the farm… and probably the one who had the least of his shit figured out.

They pulled his attention away from Kaden and Gael, but his gaze kept skipping back to their two guests who were several paces away as he answered a few questions before shooing them away again. Beth, though, insisted on lingering, turning to Daisy with her hands on her hips. “You gotta be kidding me, Dais…” she huffed, “Where does he find these guys?!” Daisy just laughed and shrugged her shoulders, and Monty rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay, come on then,” he grumbled, waving for his friends to rejoin them. The rest of the teams, split into eight people each, were assembling on the field. Leading the small gaggle of folks out that way, Monty picked up the ball along the way and carried it to the center of the field, and Daisy followed after him with the coin while Kaden joined the reds, Beth and Gael heading to the blue side of the field. They didn’t have an extra person to act as ref for the coin toss, but Daisy would just huck the damn thing at the house, anyway. Monty waved Kaden forward with a grin. “Guest’s choice—heads or tails?”

Obviously, since it was just a pickup game and done purely for fun, they were a little lax with the rules. But that didn’t stop the competitive natures of a few of them from coming out in full force, and Monty was no exception there. It was like a switch had been flipped, making his personality do a full 180. He was loud, laughing and shouting just as much as the rest of them, and Daisy hadn’t been understating anything when she’d said he was a ball hog—it was bounced from his feet to his head and then back again, making it difficult to steal away from him without getting very much up in his business. They were nearly in the second half and Blue was up by two, but it had been a hell of a match so far.

— “Well met, Kaden,” Gael replied with a smile, though the expression change on the other’s face didn’t quite go by him unnoticed. Maybe Kaden was just awkward, and that was okay. “I actually haven’t known him that long - we met last month,” He explained, tilting his head . “You?” He figured they’d known each other longer than the two of them - he figured that about pretty much everyone around here by now, with a few exceptions. The conversation didn’t get to go very long before they were called over though and he gave Kaden an earnest expression. “Put a pin in that, I’d love to hear more about you if you’ll let me. Let’s do this,” He breathed and made his way over to the cowboy and the rest of their team. “And good luck!” He called over to the red-clad ‘opposing’ team. A coin toss was in place as Gael glanced around at the rest of the people there, completely unaware that some of them were staring at him, Kaden, the whole scenario. He had met the farmhands and some of the guys that were on the team but this was the largest gathering he’d consciously participated in since moving and for a moment - or perhaps several moments - it felt as though he was back home, with the fellowship and warmth of everything. Blue got the ball first and if anyone couldn’t tell, Gael was obviously not very adept at the game. He could run in short bursts with the rest of them but compared to some, especially Monty, he must’ve looked rather foolish. That being said, he still gave it the best shot he could, even if he ended up feeling really bad that he accidentally tripped one of the boys on the enemy team after they both got to the ball at the same time. “Sorry,” He apologized again, passing by Sam as there was a small pause in the game. Gael got a pat on the shoulder and a light-hearted ‘no problem’ from them and he scoffed, placing a hand on his lower back for a moment and glancing at Monty. “You’re a demon out there,” He noted, though it was playful as he had never seen Monty so energetic and full of life. He was laughing, actually laughing. He was doing something that made him happy. He was yelling; Gael didn’t have to happen to catch what he was saying, he was making himself heard from halfway across the yard. And admittedly it was distracting Gael on the field as the latter was finding himself getting caught up in just watching Monty out in his element. “Did you know he was like this out there?” He asked Kaden. “I don’t know about you but I’m dying over here; I’m getting too old for this.” He exhaled, still trying to catch his breath from all the running around.

—

“Oh, not much longer than me,” Kaden started to say before they were herded over onto the field. He tried to remember the date of the last full moon and had to wonder if maybe he’d run into Gael before. Only in a very different setting. The thought made his stomach drop. Thankfully, the game was about to start. Easy enough to shake it out and make it look like a warm-up or a stretch as he walked over to center of the field for the coin toss.

“Pile,” Kaden said instinctively when calling the coin toss. The confused looks around him left him wondering what was wrong at first. Oh, right. “I mean, uh, tails,” he corrected. He had a feeling he was going to have to keep himself from slipping into French. He was so used to just referring to everything related to the sport in his native language that he was bound to mess up when shouting out calls on the field. Hopefully it wouldn’t hold them back too much. Considering he hadn’t made the right call in the toss. “Bonne chance,” he said to Monty with a wink as they took their starting positions.

Kaden didn’t notice any of the gawking or staring happening around him. He was only focused on one thing: winning. Okay well, maybe he was focused on two things: winning and the fact that there was a werewolf on the other team. Fine, three, three things: winning, the werewolf, and how cute Monty was when he was trying to show off with the ball.

None of that dampened Kaden’s competitive side. The positions they were playing were mostly a suggestion more than anything, but somehow he found himself in sort of a midfield position, sprinting back up and down the field, trying to help connect as many plays as he could. It helped that any opportunity he had to steal the ball away, he took it. Especially if it was from a certain cowboy. He was a slippery little bastard, though. And Kaden had to be careful not to use his actual strength when trying to play any sort of defense. This was supposed to be fun, he didn’t want to send anyone to the ER on account of him being too competitive.

At the halftime break, Kaden took the chance to inhale as much water as he could. He was in good shape all things considered but he didn’t go all out for this long all that often. Still, he loved every second of it. “He warned me but I had to see it to believe it,” he said, nodding to Monty. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Even if he wanted to pretend that he was genuinely annoyed, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face long enough for anyone to believe that.

“I haven’t had a chance to do a drop-in game like this since I got to the States. None of them were like this, though,” he said, smiling. Not that those weren’t fun, they were great, but this was something else. It felt more like the games that popped up in the rare off times at hunter camps in the summer. Couldn’t explain it. It was more… something. Maybe it was the camaraderie, who knew. He sure couldn’t say.

“Guess it’s time to up your cardio, old man. There’s another half after this, you know,” he said, jokingly before nudging Gael with his elbow lightly. Putain, the chills ran through his arm again. He’d forgotten what he was in all the commotion and activity. Kaden had to push away the nagging thoughts of what his sister might say to that before they had any chance to take hold, ruin the moment. “Anyway, I have to go strategize with the better team,” he told them both as the rest of the red team gathered a little ways down the field to start chatting.

“Alright, we’ve got to get the ball away from Monty,” one of the hands said, Kaden was pretty sure his name was Mike. “He’s their lynchpin. Any ideas?”

A sly grin spread across Kaden’s face. “Hey, Daisy,” he said, nodding towards her, “I’ve got an idea. If you’re up for it of course.”

—

Grinning from ear to ear, Monty chose to take their words as compliments, and for once in his life, he did not have a difficult time accepting them. “Yeah, I know it,” he answered with a smirk. He’d been playing it for something like a hundred years, so he’d better be good at it, or that would be damn depressing. “Well, you’re welcome to join us any Sunday—” he said in response to Kaden’s remark, before gesturing at both of them, “—both of you!”

Glancing at Gael, he gave an encouraging nod. “I think you’re doing great!” The rest of the players had the advantage of never getting tired, so it wasn’t really fair to compare his performance to theirs. All things considered, they were both keeping up very well, as far as Monty was concerned. Scrunching his nose when Kaden took off to go strategize with the ‘better’ team, he turned fully to Gael. “Okay, so I guarantee you that they’re trying to figure out how to deal with me. They always do this,” he said with a hint of pride in his tone, gesturing in a sly sort of way before motioning to Gael to follow him back to the field where the rest of their team was waiting. “If you get in a tight spot with the ball, just kick in my general direction as hard as you can, wey. High, if you can manage.” He was particularly adept at redirecting with headbutts, so long as there wasn’t anyone else taller than him in the way. The fancy footwork usually helped, there, but—

The game had resumed and the points kept stacking up, getting closer and closer in number as the time wore on. The strategy that had been devised was little more than Daisy sticking to Monty like ugly on an ape, but when the opportunity arose for the Red team to pull ahead, she had a plan. And she had Kaden to thank for the plan.

They were in the final stretch, now—the clock was ticking and the scores were tied. Daisy was still on top of Monty, watching the Blue team’s Dallas and Denver bounce the ball back and forth to one another down the field, heading right for Monty, who was no doubt trying to set up to slip around her and kick it in at the last second. She could sense it. It was time.

“Oh, my god!” she shrieked, whipping her head around to point at something behind Monty. He looked immediately confused, but didn’t dare glance over his shoulder, eyes still on the ball that was coming his way.

“What?!”

“D’you see that? That frog’s spittin’! And it’s huge!” Well, that did it. The cowboy felt his eyes widen and he turned to look, just in time to have his feet swept out from underneath him. Daisy cackled and took off, intercepting the ball from the twins on the blue team and sending it Kaden’s way instead.

From his back in the grass, Monty let out a groan. All right, now they were just playing dirty. Not that it was the first time, to be sure. But that was that, and the opposing team managed a final score before the timer went off and announced the end of the match.

Defeated, both in score and in spirit, he just took a moment to lay in the grass where he’d gone down and stare up at the sky, arms splayed out at his sides.

— More friendly banter. “Yeah yeah,” Gael replied, nudging Kaden back with a grin - at least the stranger wasn’t mean. If anything, he managed to come out of this pretty okay so far since he was on Monty’s team which meant no one was really paying attention to him - Monty did all the work, he just had to kick the ball to him or someone else wearing blue. And he had retained enough information from playing with his sister and trying the sport himself to know the basic rules. Refreshed, drinking water like a dog in the summer heat and remembering more of the game as they progressed, Gael wasn’t about to fall behind to anyone else on the field, not for the second half. He nodded casually as Kaden departed to go talk strategies and turned to regard Monty as the latter spoke once the former was out of earshot. It was no secret or surprise (anymore) that Monty was the MVP on the field but Gael was receptive to instructions - he’d take that ball and pass it. He could even try to aim high. More than that though, he took a photograph of how Monty was at this particular moment - smiling, having fun, proud of what he was doing. Happy. Taking compliments. The feeling was ephemeral, Gael could tell so as the game picked back up and he tried harder not to seem like the old man on the team, wondering where everyone got the energy, he focused more on placements, where he was, and how Monty was acting. He noted that Daisy was on him relentlessly and he figured it was part of their plan but the game progressed, as did the score on both sides. Then it came down to the wire - two blue members were passing the ball and Monty seemed to be in a position to intercept it when suddenly Daisy screamed something about a huge frog and though it distracted him, it also distracted Monty just long enough for the latter to fall onto his back and the red team to score, ending the game on their victory. And like that, it was over. The red team jumped around, congratulating each other and the defeated members of the blue team; Gael did so as well as he made his way over to where Monty was still lying supine slowly, a hand on his lower back and his tongue subconsciously sticking out as he panted for breath. His heart pounded in his chest still but he couldn’t help but cough out a laugh as he was sure Monty was taking this much harder than he was. “Lo siento amigo,” He peered down at the cowboy briefly before seeing that Kaden was on his way over. “Los conseguiremos la próxima vez.” He exhaled. “Congrats on the win, Kaden!” He called.

—

It was getting down to the wire; Kaden wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to pull it off. Daisy had helped by sticking to Monty like glue but they were tied. The hunter had been running up the field, ready to get the ball when blue snatched it from his teammate. They were about to send it Monty’s way. Putain, that was game, then.

Only, somehow, his stupid plan worked. The next thing he knew, Monty was on the ground and the ball was headed in the right direction. “Merde!” he shouted when he realized he was still needed. The ball shot across the field, right into his foot. He feigned left, and then kicked the ball right with all he had.

The ball flew, the goalie leapt, his fingertips brushing the edge of the ball. Kaden wasn’t sure he breathed as he watched the ball tumble in the air.

“GOAL!” he heard someone shout.

They did it? Kaden stood there blinking for a moment before it registered. Putain, they did it!

Without any more hesitation, Kaden turned and charged at Daisy. “MVP!” he shouted as he swept her up to sit on his shoulders. Daisy shrieked at the sudden change in elevation, but started laughing and hollering as soon as she got her bearings and heard the rest of the red team cheering for their star player. The hunter put her down quickly enough and then headed over to see the cowboy planted on the field in defeat.

He almost felt bad seeing him flopped there. Almost. “Hey, no pity parties,” he said as he reached a hand down for Monty to take to help him up off the ground. “Not when you played like that,” he said, smiling as he thought about how animated the farmer had been just a minute or two ago. “Thanks. That was a great game,” he added, looking back over at Gael. “You almost gave us a run for our money. Told you I had the best player on the field, though.” He nodded back towards Daisy. “Even if she doesn’t play like a pro like you do.” Kaden was exhausted, his breath still trying to slow itself, but in that way after a workout that made him feel like he could take on the world right then and there. Gael, meanwhile, looked like he might keel over if he wasn’t careful. “You alright, over there?” Funny, he expected a werewolf to be faring a little better. Then again, what did he know about them when the sun was out and not the full moon? Admittedly, not a whole lot.

—

His gaze flicked over to meet Gael’s when the former leaned over the top of him, blocking the sun with his shadow and assuring him they’d get ‘em next time. “Sí… five month streak, though! Ah!” He let out a frustrated laugh, holding a hand to his face and only peeking out once more when he heard Kaden’s voice. “All of the pity parties,” Monty argued, taking the other man’s hand and letting himself be hoisted up from the grass. “She legswept me! That’s definitely illegal.” The complaint was, just as before, married with a chuckle. He wasn’t really mad about it, though he’d make a mental note to get Daisy back for the dirty trick. “And you!” He shook a finger at Kaden, “You told her about the frog??” Exasperated but amused, Monty said a string of something under his breath in Spanish and then looked to Gael.

“Oh, he’s fine, tough guy like him?” He threw a good-natured wink in the professor’s direction, forgetting to feign his own exhaustion from the match. In fact, none of the other farmhands seemed wiped by the intense competition, which one could probably chalk up to them being young if it was just a few of them, but it was strange that it was all of them. They were so used to playing these games without outsiders that they’d just… not thought about it. And Monty didn’t either, not when he was on the farm.

Beth, Daisy, and a hand named Ford all took it upon themselves to fire up the grill that was on the patio of the main house while the twins dismantled the goals and hauled them back to the nearest barn. Within minutes, the red solo cups were out and a few more hands that hadn’t been a part of the game emerged from the woodwork, having finished the rest of the chores for the afternoon. Many of the participants from the match were changing back into their regular top attire, though Monty seemed content to leave his blue shirt where it was.

As the trio approached the gathering of workers and vehicles, cheers went around for Kaden and Daisy, earning the former a few shoulder-slaps as they walked. “Uh oh,” Monty laughed, glancing up at him. “You’ve made a good impression—now they’re going to want you here all the time.”

—

The chemist gave a sympathetic wince when Monty mentioned that it was a five-month streak that was broken, even though he found himself partially surprised at that - five months didn’t seem like a long time all things considered. In any case, Kaden came over, there was something mentioned about a frog but the part that raised Gael’s eyebrows slightly was the muttering in Spanish. Maybe he didn’t hear it correctly - it was back to mumbling for a second for the cowboy - but he made a mental note to ask about it later. Maybe. If the situation presented itself. “Oh yeah, super tough.” Gael replied, straightening up as the perception Kaden might’ve had for him. “Definitely not used to being in my classroom all day - on the scale of ‘running’ to ‘fighting’ I’m more on the ‘fighting’ side,” He chuckled with the explanation, using his hands as the two sides. “I can’t help it if you’re all weirdos who don’t get tired.” He waved to the general populace. “I’m not judging though. But I AM hungry.” He admitted after a pause - the soccer match was only half of the reason why he went out there. The other half was Monty, of course but also the promise of being fed. It had been a while since he’d gone to a proper outdoors barbeque and even as everyone was getting things set up, the cups were out and being floated around and the smell of smoke from the fire wafted over and around everyone soon enough. After briefly considering changing back into his own shirt he came in, Gael also opted to stay in his sweat-drenched blue shirt and he grabbed something to drink as they walked, glancing over his shoulder as the staff gave the appropriate congratulations and cheers to Kaden. A good impression. All the time. He shook his head - he’d have to ask Monty, if only to settle some of the… he wasn’t ever good at describing the unfortunate things inside him since he largely focused on the positive qualities but this was uncertainty, he thought. Uncertainty that he might’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he was moving too fast, that he didn’t even ask if Monty was involved with someone else. Despite his expressive face (especially his eyebrows, which he normally loved), none of this came through and instead he attempted small talk. “You played really well,” Gael complimented Kaden from the other side of Monty. “You said you haven’t played like this since you got to the states - where are you from?” He asked.

—

“Five months, huh? Now I don’t feel so bad,” he said, smirking as he helped Monty up off the ground, giving his hand an extra little squeeze before letting it go. Kaden couldn’t bite back his laughter seeing the cowboy scold him for using the frogs against him. “Hey, I can’t be the only one here getting attacked by frogs!” he said, nudging Monty’s shoulder.

Some of his good spirits were shaken a little when he saw the wink Monty threw Gael’s way and he immediately regretted the small show of affection. Putain, had he fucked up the other day and read way too much into things? A pit dropped in his stomach. Knowing now that Monty hadn’t been out or dating until recently, he had to wonder if he’d put too much pressure on, if he was forcing something that wasn’t there. What if he’d only felt bad after the absolute fucking idiot he made of himself when he was under the ballybog toxin? What if– Alright, no, that was stupid, there was something there, he wasn’t that delusional. But the seed of doubt that had plopped into his stomach had been good and sown all the same.

Maybe it was just because his mindset had been shaken, but alarm bells began screaming in Kaden’s ears at the mention of fighting. Just as he was starting to forget what Gael really was, too. He tried to swallow back the nerves rising up in him. He knew better, he did. Between Damien and Alex he knew that things weren’t as, well, that things weren’t quite the way he’d been told that they were growing up. That they weren’t always out of control or a hair trigger away from becoming feral and attacking. That didn’t mean that werewolves suddenly weren’t dangerous or that pent up aggression couldn’t– Breathe, he had to breathe. Nothing was going to happen there and then. Maybe some food would help him feel less unsettled by the whole thing.

His smile returned quickly enough when they reached the rest of the group, exchanging pats on the back and high-fives with some of them. “You mean I wasn’t already invited all the time?” he joked, placing his hand on his heart. “That hurts. I know it was a rough loss but that stings.” They’d passed his truck on the way back and Kaden took the opportunity to swap back to his less sweaty and stinky shirt. Seemed like a better way to uphold that good impression Monty mentioned. “Well, good for them cause I planned on showing up as much as I can whether you like or not.”

He grabbed a drink before following Monty back to where Gael had found himself a spot to congregate. “Thanks, you, too. I promise I was just giving you a hard time earlier.” He hoped that had been clear before but he didn’t want to come off as some sort of egotistical jerk so he figured he’d throw that in. “Accent didn’t give it away?” he said, raising a brow but smiling. It was about a fifty-fifty if someone picked up on it or not and somehow he always expected the opposite whenever it did or didn’t. “France. Lyon, specifically.” He didn’t let his mind drift back to anything related to his home country or his life there, just took a sip of his drink instead. “What about you, are you a Wicked’s Rest local? I think you mentioned you were a teacher or something, too?” And fighting. He also mentioned fighting. Putain, he had to get through the small talk before he just asked about the goddamn fighting.

—

“I—” Monty huffed, throwing a playful sort of pout in Kaden’s direction. “Of course you are. Smart aleck.” The promise to show up more often was one that made his stomach flutter a little bit, and the frown was quickly replaced with a grin. “Good. Just don’t be surprised if they wrangle you into a chore now and then, they are crafty like that.” As they rejoined the others and Gael and Kaden got to chatting, Monty quietly excused himself from the group and trotted up the patio steps to the front door, slipping inside to change.

Emerging in a familiar button down, he went to check on Ford to make sure he didn’t need anything else while grilling, and to make sure that the patties specifically for their guests had been clearly marked and separated from the rest. While eating cow brain-laced meat certainly wouldn’t hurt them, it might be a very different flavor profile than what they’d be expecting. Daisy and Beth were busy laying out all the burger accouterments on a long folding table, which was who Monty checked on next. Daisy waved him off, making eyes at the two men he’d left down on the grass with their employees, who were showing lots of interest in the outsiders. Some of the folks that worked and lived here didn’t spend much time off the farm. They were… newer to the lifestyle, and still afraid of losing control and hurting someone. So to have two people from the town come to them was probably pretty exciting.

Returning to Kaden and Gael, Monty now had a drink of his own. “Thank you both for coming, it really was a pleasure,” he said sincerely, his gaze dancing between them. “And—like I said. Whenever you feel compelled, you can drop in. Everyone will be happy to have you!” His smile grew and his gaze settled on Gael for a moment, before jumping to Kaden while a finger pointed lazily at Gael. “I took him horseback riding up into the mountains not that long ago, and you know, he did good for a first time rider!”

—

Oh duh, he was from France. “Y’know, it sounds like I should’ve known, huh?” Gael scoffed at his inability to pinpoint the accent. “Sometimes people guess and I’ve been yelled at by very passionate Quebecois people about how they’re NOT French so I didn’t want to insult you.” He motioned with a hand, imitating them as though he said something completely irredeemable. And other than a brief flicker of his eyes when Monty departed from their company, if only temporarily, he didn’t respond and indeed, thought this might be a good opportunity to learn more about Kaden - he wasn’t testing the younger man to see if he was a good candidate for Monty, that certainly wasn’t the case, he was just curious. Even if there wasn’t anything between them (which he got the feeling that there was), he still wanted to know more about Monty’s friends. “I’m from Guatemala,” Gael responded. “I’ve only been here for a few months - and I teach chemistry at the University.” Where he felt somehow like a puzzle piece, fitted in and comfortable assimilating to the school, to his role, to the town that was very strange but wonderful and full of unique individuals. “I mean, I’ve been in the states for most of my life but I’ve only been in town for a few months.” As he spoke, he couldn’t keep himself from looking around mildly with the feeling of eyes on him. He wasn’t unused to the sensation of being watched but it was usually in a professional environment - he was a teacher, after all. But it felt strange, almost as though he were the specimen or the experiment he had spent so much time looking at, himself. He didn’t mind, instead catching any eyes with a light smile, as though he were giving some of that curiosity back in his expression. “What do you do around here when you aren’t ruining five-month streaks and being attacked by frogs?” He asked lightly, his gaze going back to the taller man. Gael wasn’t sure how long their conversation went before Monty returned after flitting about the gathering, smelling more like how he normally did and with one of his button-up shirts but he listened intently to Kaden’s answer until the cowboy sat with them. The professor held a gentle grin as Monty thanked the both of them for coming out. “It was a lot of fun!” He said before also looking at Kaden with the same smile. Then… Gael’s jaw clenched slightly as Monty brought up the horseback ride. Don’t look embarrassed. “That was all Manzanita,” He managed to reply casually, looking down at his drink and messing with some grass that had stuck to his shirt. “She did all the work, I was just along for the ride. Literally.”

—

Kaden waved it off. “Sometimes people can, sometimes they can’t. I don’t think I have that much of an accent but,” he shrugged. He did chuckle at Gael’s small attempt at show and tell. “Good thing you didn’t assume that, would have lost points if you thought I was Canadian. The Quebecois wish they were French but I can assure you, they’re not.” He didn’t know what the points were or how they were stacking, to be honest, but he seemed like a nice guy. Certainly wasn’t bad looking, either. And he was also a werewolf. Right. It was strange how easy it was for him to ignore the sense that he’d trained and honed for decades now, how often it became nothing more than a dull hum in the background rather than sirens wailing all around him. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Really?” His brows raised when the other man mentioned where he was from. “And I thought I was a long way from home” he said, shaking his head. “Ah, a professor. Meanwhile I barely graduated from lycée.” Oh. Yeah. That word didn’t mean anything in the States, did it? “Uh, more or less equivalent of high school. I would say science wasn’t my best subject but honestly, not sure any of them were. Except for maybe PE.” He hadn’t been bad at biology, though, if he was being honest. Probably because it had to do with animals, which was a lot more interesting than the periodic table, no question there.

So he was smart, too. And actually had an education. Great. Good. “Guess you came here more for the job than anything, yeah? I mean it doesn’t sound like you’re a member of that cryptid club or whatever the fuck they call it.” Kaden rolled his eyes before downing more of his drink. “Those connards, I swear. They find a way to make my job more difficult every single week some how, some way.” The number of times he had to try and shoo one of them away anytime a call came in about a weird “animal” was beyond what he could count at this point. “Which is animal control, by the way. My job.”

He reached back to rub the nape of his neck, not sure why he suddenly felt so awkward making basic fucking small talk. Thankfully, he caught sight of Monty out of the corner of his eye and noticed that he was finally returning to them. “Funny, I actually met Monty on the job. Someone surrendered a horse and the shelter is definitely not equipped for that. Thankfully he’d mentioned having a farm or something like that online, so when I called, he came running. Which made a lot more sense when I saw him around horses.” He laughed a little at the memory, knowing full well that the cowboy had caught most of the story by the time he was back and seated. He hadn’t imagined any of the chemistry there, right? Not that he was sure he could trust his memories most of the time.

“Of course,” he said, waving off Monty’s thanks the same way he’d waved off Gael earlier. “All you had to say was football.” He took a swig of his drink right as Monty mentioned the trail ride and nearly swallowed it wrong. Thankfully, he was able to keep it down. And drink a little more than he’d initially planned. Gael’s addition to the story only felt more like a gut punch. “Oh,” he said, feeling that seed of doubt taking a little more root. “With Manzanita?” Kaden didn’t even know she was doing well enough to ride and Gael had already taken her on a trail ride with Monty. He cleared his throat to try and push away whatever the fuck emotion was trying to sneak onto his face “That’s, uh, yeah. Good. To hear she’s doing… Trail ride in the mountains. Sounds nice. Was that a–”

Before he could finish asking if that was a date, one of the hands came over, looked a little young, couldn’t have been older than twenty, and interrupted. That was probably for the best. “Food’s ready!” he said, cheerfully. “Guests first, of course.” Kaden had never jumped from his seat so fast, darting his way over to get a burger and sides. Hopefully the assumption was just that he was really hungry and not that he was about to shove his foot directly into his mouth.

—

Hearing the story of how he and Kaden had met did put a smile on his face, though he didn’t directly comment on it. Of course it was then that he realized that the story of how he and Gael had met would be one that would have to be heavily tailored… not unlike the story of how he and Alan had met, either. It was simply a role reversal. Huh.

Before Monty really had a chance to update Kaden on how well Manzanita had adjusted and how quickly she’d gained back her weight and strength, they were interrupted by Andre, one of the youngest and most recent additions to the staff, that had gotten himself in a bad spot further northland heard about this place through a friend. Watching him get up without finishing his question and hurry over to where the food was, Monty looked bemused for a moment before shaking his head. His gaze landed on Gael and he shrugged. “Well. Shall we?”

Walking over to the grill and folding table beside Gael, he watched ahead of them to make sure Kaden was given the correct food. Good. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ford, it was just… There was a lot of grilling happening and mistakes could be easily made. The same went for Gael, who he insisted go first—Monty ended up skipping the food altogether, just moseying along with Gael as he picked out what he wanted, chit-chatting along the way. When Kaden passed them by to head back to where they’d been sitting, Monty stepped toward him and held out a hand, letting it graze gently over his hip to get his attention.

“Hey,” he said in a low tone, looking up at the man with some concern etched into his features, “are you okay?” He was acting kind of jumpy, which might not have been unusual for him in large social gatherings, Monty really couldn’t say—they still didn’t know one another that well, but… He had to ask, at least. Make sure.

In his absence, Daisy had sidled up beside Gael, beaming at him and striking up her usual easy conversation. “So I hear you’ll be the one accompanyin’ Monty to New Hampshire to look at that livestock, huh? Honestly, god bless ya—I hate those long car rides, n’ I’m usually the one that’s gotta go with ‘im!” she laughed. “If I can give ya one word of advice—firm. Be firm. He tends to start agreein’ to higher prices ‘cause he gets emotionally invested in the cattle, n’ the seller can see that. Always gotta talk the soft-hearted fella back down from it.”

— Animal Control– Ah, so Gael had met this guy online before! He was the one they talked about moose and having good hair together. That certainly made him feel better. What made him feel a little less better was when Kaden started to ask a question (and maybe it was just him but his tone seemed tempered with something, and none of the words that came to Gael’s mind were positive) and he abruptly stopped, springing from his seat and virtually flying off to the table that had the spread of items on it. Eyebrows raised and exchanging a glance with Monty, he also shrugged if only to give Monty the impression that he also wasn’t sure what was going on and he also got to his feet. Granted, it was a little slower than Kaden for sure. They made their way to the burger dispenser - also known as a ‘grill’ to some people though Gael’s absorption of smelling delicious meat was making it hard to remember basic words - and after a brief back-and-forth, Gael caved when he was told to go first and he customized his burger; a little bit of everything, no ketchup, add some hot sauce for good measure. Monty didn’t get anything, which aside from a little teasing from Gael commenting on how he looks like a stick wasn’t dwelled on by the chemist though he stored that in his banks. The taller man passed by and Gael kept going when he noticed that Monty redirected his path. The same uncertainty that had been coming and going, like a wave of something sticky and unpleasant tarring the neurons in his brain that granted him common sense and critical thinking skills had returned again and he had lowered his head, subconsciously honing in on Monty and whatever he would’ve said; he pushed past the chatter, he dulled out the ambient noise, he– Jumped when Daisy had made her way to his side and was smiling at him, starting to talk and he completely missed what she said at first. Immediately, he focused on her, changing his expression to be lighter before he caught up to what she was talking about, which was apparently the road trip he was invited to. “Be firm, got it,” He nodded in acknowledgement. “Gracias, Ms. Daisy,” He gave her a grin. “Fortunately, I like car rides - didn’t get from there to here without ‘em.” Gael added that part for small talk but in reality, he was dwelling on what she said before. He knew she was talking about the cattle prices but he found himself thinking about… Well, Monty himself. Before today, Gael thought he could take a hint, read a room but now he wasn’t so sure. Kaden was taller, younger, more physically fit, great with animals and less intimidating when it came to a college education, remembering that he made Monty uncomfortable the first day they met when the latter learned he was a professor. …Could he take a hint? Was Gael too slow? Or was he foolish to assume that Monty hadn’t met someone else? That part felt true for sure; it wasn’t as though he owned Monty, the cowboy was a fully grown man and Gael literally showed up on his lawn after killing one of his animals. He was POSITIVE that Kaden hadn’t done that. They met saving Manzanita, which was a lot better of a bonding exercise. He swallowed all of these thoughts, forcing them into a big bottle, bigger than the ones he normally saved for thoughts like this, and put it on his shelf, labeling it “Open During Trip”. That was, of course, assuming that he wasn’t made privy to the obvious information that Kaden and Monty were in a relationship today. He was being ridiculous. With that bottle stored on the shelf in his mind, Gael inhaled deeply and kept the small talk going with Daisy, asking her for more advice and laughing at some of his own experiences until he saw the duo moving and he waved at them, as though nonverbally asking for permission to join back up.

—

Kaden was planning to sit right back down and shove as much food into his mouth as he could to keep his foot from making a home there. He didn’t expect the hand against his hip and the big brown eyes looking up at him when he turned around to face Monty. Putain. There they were – the goddamn hummingbirds in his stomach. “Me? Okay?” The urge to just spill his guts out on the floor was hard to ignore, but they weren’t alone; now wasn’t the time for that. Still, his eyes darted over to Gael and Daisy chatting away before resting back on Monty. “Uh, yeah I’m–” He exhaled through his nose, still trying to sort through his thoughts before filtering them. “I’m alright,” he said, adding a half-hearted smile and reaching out to give the man’s shoulder a small squeeze with his hand that wasn’t holding his plate. “Completely fine. Really. This– it’s amazing. The whole thing.” It felt like a home which was something the didn’t get to see a lot of until recently. He really should have just fucking left it at that. Instead, his fucking mouth ran away with him. “I, uh, just didn’t know that you…”

Merde. How could he say this? He caught Gael out of the corner of his eye again and the thoughts and questions that brought to his mind were like a sting. “Sort of would have liked to be the one on that trail ride, little embarrassed about it,” he said with a small shrug of his shoulder, trying to keep any of the hurt out of his voice. His stomach dropped and he regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. He didn’t even know if– well there was a lot left unsaid. And now he’d gone and made himself look like a fucking jealous or possessive asshole after only one fucking actual date, possibly for no reason.

Putain, he had to recover this somehow. “You know. Cause Manzanita. I didn’t know she was doing so well. And I feel a little guilty. Not checking in. Or, uh, yeah…” If he could just burrow himself into the earth itself, that would be great. “Guess you didn’t tell me she was doing that well.” There might have been more he wasn’t telling Kaden, too, but he could only speculate on that. He just offered Monty a smile and leaned toward where they’d been sitting earlier. “Anyway, better sit down before this gets cold. And you should make sure you eat something, too.” He held the plate up to gesture at his food and then darted back to his seat. Hell, he half considered darting back to his truck instead and taking off, just taking himself out of this picture – whatever picture that was, anyway. It wasn’t like he ever expected much of anything longer term from anyone as it was – who the hell would be able to deal with the fact that he was a fucking freak of nature who hunted werewolves when it came down to it?

Fuck.

Maybe he should just leave. Yeah. Alright. He was going to get up and–

“Hey, Kaden right?” an unfamiliar voice came from across the table. Kaden’s head shot up to see who it was that had slid in across from him. It was Andre, the kid who had saved him from himself earlier. “You were great today, man. The way you played – wow! I mean Monty’s great and all, like really good and stuff, but we all knew that. I don’t think I’ll ever be that good and I know he doesn’t really have a lot of spare time and stuff anyway and he already helps us out and all. But, uh, you! I was wondering if you’d be cool with maybe doing some practices with me? Oh and maybe some of the others, too? I mean I don’t know what your schedule’s like, man, but it would be so cool if you could help us out.”

Kaden felt like he was bowled over by words – lots of words – and sat there blinking for a second after they’d finished speaking. “Practices?” he repeated, looking a little dumbfounded still as he processed all of that. Huh. That was unexpected. And kind of sweet. “I, uh… sure! I don’t know if anything about us,” he nodded a little towards Gael, “got around the rumor mill but I work with animal control so my hours are kind of all over the place. But I think we could make something happen.” That might have been a massive mistake agreeing to all that when two minutes ago he was ready to high tail it out of there, but it was hard to say no to the kid as earnest and eager as he was. Hell, maybe he could bring Alex out here with them if she had time.

—

At first, he smiled. Okay, he’d just been misreading Kaden’s body language. It was nothing, and the hand on his shoulder seemed to be reinforcing that, until—oh.

Monty’s expression darkened like a raincloud growing heavy with rain and he blinked a few times, taken aback. He didn’t have nearly enough experience with this sort of thing, these sorts of relationships to even begin to know how to navigate them, and… had he already fucked it up? Was he not supposed to do things like invite Gael on a trail ride? He didn’t know, and even though Kaden was admitting he was embarrassed about it, the lack of context did little to spare the zombie’s nerves. He felt awful, unable to come up with something to say before the Frenchman was darting away again, leaving him alone, confused, and upset.

His gaze immediately sought out Gael, who had just motioned to join them, but Kaden was already on the move without him. The zombie stood there for a moment, flummoxed, before moving back toward Gael and Daisy and greeting them with a warmth that was a little lacking when compared to his usual fare. He stepped close to Daisy, reaching past her to grab a few baby carrots to appease Kaden’s suggestion that he eat something, glancing over to see Andre joining him and striking up conversation. He… didn’t want to interrupt, and he certainly didn’t want to say what he needed to in the present company, so he instead pulled out his phone and went to his text conversation with Kaden, sending him one that would hopefully smooth out the wrinkles in this situation.

I am sorry I did not invite you. It was sort of a… ‘in the moment’ decision. But it was not like… that. You know. Like the zoo.

They’d bonded somewhat, sure, but that was the extent of it. And if that sort of thing wasn’t allowed anymore because he’d gone and kissed Kaden, he wasn’t sure if he was cut out for relationships at all. There might be too many unspoken rules.

This is new for me. I may make mistakes. I apologize.

Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he tried to shake away the guilt and motioned for Gael and Daisy to follow him back to the table where Andre was still seated, looking excited about something. Monty sat beside Kaden, leaning his elbows on the table and nodding his head at Andre as the other two sat down. “What’s got you so riled up, eh?” Andre beamed.

“Kaden said he’s going to do football practices with us so we can kick your ass!” Monty laughed, lifting a brow at the man beside him.

“That so? Can’t wait to see it.”

— From Gael’s observations as he made casual conversation with Daisy and a few of the other farmhands as they passed by, words that he couldn’t hear through the noise were exchanged and Kaden had disengaged first. He also made sure to catch any looks Monty might’ve given him, making sure he didn’t give him a look of derision or judgment back but those looks stayed in his mind after the cowboy rejoined with him and Daisy, his tone missing some of its usual light. He shouldn’t have brought up the horse. He shouldn’t have acknowledged anything about that even if he was put on the spot. Of course the horse he and Kaden rescued was the horse Monty had offered to take him out on. Of course there was someone else. What did Gael know about any of this; he was just inserting himself into an established area with established people and their established relationships. His mental image kept flashing to the bottle in his head, realizing that it was still open, simultaneously pouring emotions out and trying to stuff in more questions, write them down on the pieces of paper for later when– Speaking of, he needed to ask about the car ride too. These were all the things on Gael’s mind as the latter uncharacteristically fell quiet himself, taking his plate and sitting down at the table with the rest of them, the rest of them that had their bonds and relationships, words they’ve exchanged, things they’d done. He was just the guy that showed up and killed his animals. All the while, hearing that Andre wanted Kaden to come over, seeing out of his peripheral that Monty had texted someone, wondering what he was doing there after all since he wasn’t good at soccer anyway, not noticing that he hadn’t touched his burger or anything else on his plate and staring off into the middle-distance at nothing in particular, he kept having the feeling that this perhaps wasn’t what Monty had in mind. And he didn’t know what he had in mind, either. He didn’t fit in, how could he? This wasn’t his place, these weren’t his people. He hadn’t even known any of them for longer than a couple months and that was being generous. Mentally, he tried to clean up all the water, the feelings, the scraps of paper and was in the process of shoving them all back into the bottle though he wasn’t sure how successful he was being. He was so lost in thought that didn’t react at all to anything that was going on around him until he was nudged to which he gasped, jumped in his seat and was pulled back to the present. He had no idea who nudged him but it seemed to do the trick… if anyone nudged him at all. He might’ve been imagining it, imagining making that physical connection with someone. “I just remembered– I gotta go.” Gael blinked, managing to force a small smile onto his face as he stood up, leaving his untouched plate. “Thanks for lunch!” He said without thinking, giving Daisy a small pat on the shoulder. “And the game! It was super fun, I had a great time,” He nodded, avoiding everyone’s eye contact as Gael had to disengage from whatever was going on before he said or did something stupid - he didn’t like pushing things back but it wasn’t a one-on-one scenario here; too many variables and he was only in control of one: himself. He tugged at the blue shirt that still clung to his frame and he stuttered for a second. “I’ll uh, I’ll wash this before bringing it back.” He looked around, saw his shirt discarded on the ground but decided it wasn’t worth sticking around longer than he had to. “Sorry to leave so abruptly but I’ll, um, I’ll text you about the… you know.” With a final nod to the table, still feeling eyes on him but he wasn’t sure if it was literal or in his head, he turned and made a beeline for his little blue car. It was fun. He had a good time. He had a good time. He definitely wasn’t invited as a third wheel. He definitely didn’t read the room wrong, he definitely didn’t get the wrong impression. He and Monty were definitely friends that Monty definitely wanted around and not out of pity or because Gael owed him a cow. Definitely not.

—

In the middle of the kid’s rambling, Kaden felt his phone vibrating. He dared to sneak a peek at it when there was a lull in the conversation and saw that the texts were from Monty, reading them as quickly as he could. Putain, he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just let it lie. Or just left when he’d planned to. This shit was why he never tried dating, why he tried not to let himself give a shit, it was complicated and he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. It would be so much fucking easier if he just didn’t care as much as he already did. It was a goddamn shame his drink was gone already. He was going to have to replace that soon.

Fuck. He felt like a jerk. When he had a chance to look back down at his phone, he fired off a reply as quickly as he could back to him.

No, I’m sorry. I misinterpreted shit and overreacted. I’m not the best at this, either.

There were about twenty other things he wanted to say but he didn’t know how and he didn’t have time. As soon as he placed his phone down, Gael had jumped up and was saying goodbyes. Wait? Putain de merde, what happened? Kaden felt that same damn pit drop into his stomach. Somehow he felt like this was his fault, that he’d been too fucking weird earlier and pushed Monty’s friend out the door. He was just a friend, right? That– There had to be some other reason why he was acting like this other than the stupid assumptions he’d made earlier. Right? “Hey, uh, hope everything’s alright,” he said, trying to suss out the situation. “You sure you can’t stay?” He saw that the werewolf’s plate was still full. Yeah, something was fucking off. Kaden didn’t know him enough to know what it was and he didn’t like the guess he did have. “Good to meet you, though. Maybe I’ll see you next time.”

He barely got the words out before Gael had darted to his car the same way Kaden had intended to just a few minutes earlier. Fuck. Should he get up to stop him or something? No, that wasn’t on him. He barely knew Gael and he didn’t want to potentially make things worse. Instead he stayed seated, staring at his food. He wasn’t exactly hungry anymore now that he felt like the cause of some sort of tension, the reason for the change in mood but he had no fucking clue what to do now.

—

Well… Monty sure felt bad, but there really wasn’t much he could do without causing a scene. Thankfully, Daisy was far better at smoothing over awkward social situations than he was, and stood quickly from the table once Gael had made it back to his car, clapping her hands together. “Who wants another round?” She grabbed Andre and pulled him along with her, and the conversation seemed to slip back into something normal again.

Monty, for his part, decided to simply ignore that problem for now, knowing that he’d be getting a text from Gael later and figuring he could address it then. Or... maybe not. He wasn’t exactly the type to throw himself in the confrontation line of fire. Mierda. Leaning one elbow on the table, chin in his hand, he instead just smiled over at Kaden in a disarming sort of way. This was okay. Nothing wrong here. All he could do was pretend and hope that things went back to being easy.

#. thread ;#. with ; kaden langley #. with ; gael cordova #. what the fuckbol

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cherubim-of-vvkastel · 1 year ago

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@unfounded-daydreams {continued from here.}

He was no stranger to a long night, not in his grueling line of work. Fifteen or more hours of his day were spent atop his mare, eyes drifting over three hundred, maybe even four hundred head of cattle every couple moments. It was honest work, or so Sam claimed, paying homage to his smaller ranch and the meager sum he'd be sure to gain on his lonesome. Tonight, Sam had gotten lucky to kick his boots back in an unfamiliar town, pouch far too light to nestle under fresh linens but generous enough to drink away the aches and pains against his thighs and arms.

Dusk had long since kissed the sky to rest when Sam brushed open the batwing doors into the town's favorite congregation spot. Fresh air gave way to spilt ale, a wooden bar coated dried and sugar-sticky. The cold air from outside wafted spore-laden humidity away from the cellar against the far wall, and the occasional jeer and outburst from the lingering habitué only solidified Sam's fickle comfort.

Stifling a broken yawn, Sam settles against the barstool, its footrest creaking under the weight of muck-slathered soles. Rolling up the dusty sleeves of his jacket, he rested a sun-kissed forearm against the gummed counters, lifting two fingers as if to beckon the only working attendant at such an hour. Ha, is it really that late? Perhaps. It was hard to track how many hours had passed when he was far more concerned about losing money on the trail. If only he had taken the time to secure the path around that gorge, then he wouldn't be short twenty hooves. Every hide he knicked meant he lost another dollar to his name, and indeed, it wasn't worth taking this extra trip if he couldn't secure his perfect product reputation.

But, at the same time, Sam had to reason that it was his responsibility — who was he to blame for the mistakes of the day than his own deprived brain that ran on exhaustion and the smoky taste of in-house red-eye? His night was far from over, and at the very least, Sam would find his spirit in the bottle (an increasingly comforting thought as the blonde behind the counter twisted his wrist and slid a foaming glass his way). It burnt in the best ways, Sam's head cocked back to choke down his life's blood, ears twitching as the drunken ragtime patrons attempted to serenade their fading cliques.

Sleep-addled, Sam nearly misses the hello sung from the tender, his glass thudding down as he swipes his lip with his thumb. It was a simple hello but welcomed nonetheless. Many weeks, he would go without a smile, knowing that he would be isolated to the cattle runs with only a few other cowpokes if he were lucky. It was a lonely life, being what he was, so such a model citizen paying him any mind was worthy of due interest. Sam's fingers played with the rim of his glass as he leaned forward, tilting his head inquisitively at the masked man. Emerald green glittering beneath... porcelain or perhaps the cleanest cloth he had laid eyes on, dressed to the nines to enchant a crowd of men and women with nothing better to do than dance away their livelihoods. A rare custom, perhaps. Sam had met many over the years, hearing from distant friends through their monthly letters about a new explosion in their fashion trends. A Brit? No, he didn't have the mannerisms of one.

But, what is a chivalrous man if he is to ignore a hello and stare so brazenly at a stranger? Just because he looked like he came straight from plowing a field doesn't mean he needed to act like his mama didn't raise him a good man. The dirt under his nails and the gravel buffing the rim of his hat wouldn't define his manners. "Howdy," Sam leans into his persona, his eyes betraying naught of his weariness—a deep southern drawl, rumbling as if Sam was pulled from the desert grounds themself. He doesn't bother putting more energy than respect into his tone, feeling the faint tug of an understanding smile.

Sam could tell the other wouldn't mind. The way padded shoulders sank, how the stranger's smile seemed too poised to be meaningful, down to when those eyes drifted to the sway of a distant twilight that wouldn't look his way - Sam could tell. Perhaps it was novelty or Sam's desire for company; Sam couldn't pinpoint a reason for offering up a conversation with the practiced expression and curling strands of straw that painted a man just trying to keep himself busy. "I expected to face a long night, but it seems you suffer the same fate," the cowboy reached forward, tilting his glass of whiskey in an invitation to join him, "What's on your mind?"

Yes, the man was relatively easy to read. Sam hid a smile with the rim of his alcohol once more. Forest green fluttered to a close, amusement dampened by his natural reservations. His eyes only open at the smooth deflection, honeyed words smoothing over a topic Sam wouldn't have known about had the other not kept their thoughts so close to their chest. Honesty was gifted only to those who had to rely on one another; Sam wouldn't take offense. Confiding in strangers would get a pretty townsman like this tender into brawls he likely couldn't win. Besides, Sam was sure there were plenty who had ulterior motives before the sun crested the horizon.

"That's a right shame," Sam rolls his shoulders, glancing over to the piano that had been vacated as the population dwindled, "though I'd hardly say I'm a friend with it."

Sam knocks his hat down against his brow, a tip to the kind fellow who settled to find camaraderie with him, if even for a fleeting night. "It feels more like one of those contracts — I sell my soul to the heat of the trails; the night greets me like a resentful lover. Thoughts don't settle even after the day's end."

The metallic legs of a chair scrape along the wood, and the stranger (Dream, Sam corrects) settles knee-to-knee with him. Was it customary to name children around here like that, or was it just a stage name? A new persona to escape the life he held before? It wouldn't be the first time — Sam had talked to some interesting people when they weren't trying to steal a breeder off him. Sam could see the blonde with much finer detail from this new position. The blonde was thin, well, compared to himself. The cowboy would even wager that he could carry Dream with just one arm. The fingers curled around Dream's newly acquired stool were smooth and bruised around his finger pads - far from suited for Sam's harsh life in the west. The smile offered to him this time had a touch of genuine intrigue to it (playful even), and the dotted freckles along Dream's face only served to smooth the pointed curves of his nose and teeth — Sam decided he quite liked them.

Two men from wildly different cuts of fabric, yet Sam felt as though they had far more in common than one would let on. Spending their nights wide awake, with Sam nursing his aches and pains like a true farmhand, Dream indulging in conversation while patrons frothed over passing beauties. Sam almost forgot that he would have to cut this conversation short sooner or later to find a charitable soul willing to let him sleep on a stack of hay before the weather rolled in heavy and dreary.

"No," a short chuckle rolled over teeth-scarred lips, "my herd is grazing over the hill. I don't usually come this far upstate this time of year, but a friend of mine asked if I could take on a couple of heads to the next railway market."

With a fanged smile, Sam's eyes followed Dream's expressions - surely he wasn't getting out of here without indulging in a nice night. "Are you not used to seeing a colorful crowd?" the chide sings an almost fond tune to it, equally amused and open to more questioning. Dream might not be the most open fellow, but who was Sam to complain about a friendly face? "I'd think for a town like this, you would have a lot more visitors. Since," he gestures towards his face, circling where his nose and eyes are, "you're keeping up with trends from over the pond. I've heard masquerades have picked up in popularity for the rich."

#﹛to the dark room﹜ awesamdude - ic #﹛reverie﹜ dream #﹛all hat no cattle﹜ western verse #unfounded-daydreams

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naughtybooks · 2 years ago

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Smoke Wade was riding to save a friend from hanging ... and

he was riding straight into a pack of blood hungry outlaws! Stampede Canyon held all the natural beauty of the West—and all of its dangers. Sheer cliffs studded with silver rose straight to the sky on three sides—and the fourth was pitted with traps. Smoke Wade rode into the town at its heart to attend the wedding of his friend, Chaz Borman. But he stayed to save Borman's neck from a noose. Borman had been accused of helping outlaws raid silver from the canyon—and the riled miners were dead-set for a necktie party. Wade's only hope was to track the real outlaws to their den and fight it out with lead. But Wade was riding alone—and he was facing some of the deadliest killers the West had ever known. Smoke Wade was a rough and tumble cowpoke who never came across a fight or a bet he was afraid to take on. He was thought by most to be just another pistolero for hire, but he always seemed to be on the side of justice when the powdersmoke settled.

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#Robert J. Hogan #Western #Audiobook #The Smoke Wade Trilogy #Free Promo Codes

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20more1mores · 2 years ago

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I grew up in Napanee. I still live close by. It's a small, rural town, lots of agriculture. Napanee had their first pride event this summer and although I couldn't attend I was really proud and impressed that my little cowpoke town did something like that, and that it went smoothly. I will try to attend this event, to show my support and maybe spit in the face of those who want to harm me and people in my community.

I genuinely feel bad for these hateful people who must have experienced so much hate and hurt in their lives that they feel the need to spread it to people who are minding their business and trying to live and be safe amd celebrate love. I hope those people learn and grow. Trans people are the enemy until it's one of your kids. Then what. This is their biggest fear. Will I have to learn to hate my child, or will I have to learn to love what I hate?

So, the "Convoy" people in Canada have been emboldened by the events in the US and are now targeting numerous all-ages drag events across the country to disrupt and intimidate LGBTQ+ people, their friends, and their families. There are currently at least four events that are being targeted. The fascists are also organizing a walk-out at a high school (details below) for students who want to protest against "woke ideology" and the presence of trans students.

There are calls to action in Hamilton on Nov. 24th, tomorrow:

This Friday, Nov. 25th, in Renfrew, at St. Joseph's High School, people need counter-protesters to shield students from the far-right coming to intimidate trans students:

Sarnia on Nov. 26th:

Napanee on Dec. 10th:

Hamilton on Dec 11th:

You can watch a video from Crystal here: https://www.instagram.com/p/ClUIF-8ru_3

~~~~

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timeless-hollywood-classics · 4 years ago

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Rhonda Fleming (born Marilyn Louis; August 10, 1923 – October 14, 2020) was an American film and television actress and singer. She acted in more than 40 films, mostly in the 1940s and 1950s, and became renowned as one of the most glamorous actresses of her day, nicknamed the "Queen of Technicolor" because she photographed so well in that medium.

Fleming was born Marilyn Louis in Hollywood, California, to Harold Cheverton Louis, an insurance salesman, and Effie Graham, a stage actress who had appeared opposite Al Jolson in the musical Dancing Around at New York's Winter Garden Theatre from 1914 to 1915. Fleming's maternal grandfather was John C. Graham, an actor, theater owner, and newspaper editor in Utah.

She began working as a film actress while attending Beverly Hills High School, from which she graduated in 1941. She was discovered by the well-known Hollywood agent Henry Willson, who changed her name to "Rhonda Fleming".

"It's so weird", Fleming said later. "He stopped me crossing the street. It kinda scared me a little bit -- I was only 16 or 17. He signed me to a seven-year contract without a screen test. It was a Cinderella story, but those could happen in those days."

Fleming's agent Willson went to work for David O. Selznick, who put her under contract.[5][6] She had bit parts in In Old Oklahoma (1943), Since You Went Away (1944) for Selznick, and in When Strangers Marry (1944).

She received her first substantial role in the thriller, Spellbound (1945), produced by Selznick and directed by Alfred Hitchcock. "Hitch told me I was going to play a nymphomaniac", Fleming said later. "I remember rushing home to look it up in the dictionary and being quite shocked." The film was a success and Selznick gave her another good role in the thriller The Spiral Staircase (1946), directed by Robert Siodmak.

Selznick lent her out to appear in supporting parts in the Randolph Scott Western Abilene Town (1946) at United Artists and the film noir classic Out of the Past (1947) with Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas, at RKO, where she played a harried secretary.

Fleming's first leading role came in Adventure Island (1947), a low-budget action film made for Pine-Thomas Productions at Paramount Pictures in the two-color Cinecolor process and co-starring fellow Selznick contractee Rory Calhoun.

Fleming then auditioned for the female lead in a Bing Crosby film, a part Deanna Durbin turned down at Paramount in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1949), a musical loosely based on the story by Mark Twain. Fleming exhibited her singing ability, dueting with Crosby on "Once and For Always" and soloing with "When Is Sometime". They recorded the songs for a three-disc, 78-rpm Decca album, conducted by Victor Young, who wrote the film's orchestral score. Her vocal coach in Hollywood, Harriet Lee, praised her "lovely voice", saying, "she could be a musical comedy queen". The movie was Fleming's first Technicolor film. Her fair complexion and flaming red hair photographed exceptionally well and she was nicknamed the "Queen of Technicolor", a moniker not worth much to her as she would have preferred to be known for her acting. Actress Maureen O'Hara expressed a similar sentiment when the same nickname was given to her around this time.

She then played another leading role opposite a comedian, in this case Bob Hope, in the The Great Lover (1949). It was a big hit and Fleming was established. "After that, I wasn't fortunate enough to get good directors", said Fleming. "I made the mistake of doing lesser films for good money. I was hot – they all wanted me – but I didn't have the guidance or background to judge for myself."

In February 1949, Selznick sold his contract players to Warner Bros, but he kept Fleming.

In 1950 she portrayed John Payne's love interest in The Eagle and the Hawk, a Western.

Fleming was lent to RKO to play a femme fatale opposite Dick Powell in Cry Danger (1951), a film noir. Back at Paramount, she played the title role in a Western with Glenn Ford, The Redhead and the Cowboy (1951).

In 1950, she ended her association with Selznick after eight years, though her contract with him had another five years to run.

Fleming signed a three-picture deal with Paramount. Pine-Thomas used her as Ronald Reagan's leading lady in a Western, The Last Outpost (1951), John Payne's leading lady in the adventure film Crosswinds (1951), and with Reagan again in Hong Kong (1951).

She sang on NBC's Colgate Comedy Hour during the same live telecast that featured Errol Flynn, on September 30, 1951, from the El Capitan Theater in Hollywood.

Fleming was top-billed for Sam Katzman's The Golden Hawk (1952) with Sterling Hayden, then was reunited with Reagan for Tropic Zone (1953) at Pine-Thomas. In 1953, Fleming portrayed Cleopatra in Katzman's Serpent of the Nile for Columbia. That same year, she filmed a western with Charlton Heston at Paramount, Pony Express (1953), and two films shot in three dimensions (3-D), Inferno with Robert Ryan at Fox, and the musical Those Redheads From Seattle with Gene Barry, for Pine-Thomas. The following year, she starred with Fernando Lamas in Jivaro, her third 3-D release, at Pine-Thomas. She went to Universal for Yankee Pasha (1954) with Jeff Chandler. Fleming also traveled to Italy to play Semiramis in Queen of Babylon (1954).

Fleming was part of a gospel singing quartet with Jane Russell, Connie Haines, and Beryl Davis.

Much of the location work for Fleming's 1955 Western Tennessee's Partner, in which she played Duchess opposite John Payne as Tennessee and Ronald Reagan as Cowpoke, was filmed at the Iverson Movie Ranch in Chatsworth, California, (known as the most heavily filmed outdoor location in the history of film and television). A distinctive monolithic sandstone feature behind which Fleming (as Duchess) hid during an action sequence, later became known as the Rhonda Fleming Rock. The rock is part of a section of the former movie ranch known as "Garden of the Gods", which has been preserved as public parkland.

Fleming was reunited with Payne and fellow redhead Arlene Dahl in a noir at RKO, Slightly Scarlet (1956). She did other thrillers that year; The Killer Is Loose (1956) with Joseph Cotten and Fritz Lang's While the City Sleeps (1956), co-starring Dana Andrews, at RKO. Fleming was top billed in an adventure movie for Warwick Films, Odongo (1956).

Fleming had the female lead in John Sturges's Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957) co-starring Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas, a big hit. She supported Donald O'Connor in The Buster Keaton Story (1957) and Stewart Granger in Gun Glory (1957) at MGM.

In May 1957, Fleming launched a nightclub act at the Tropicana in Las Vegas. It was a tremendous success. "I just wanted to know if I could get out on that stage – if I could do it. And I did! ... My heart was to do more stage work, but I had a son, so I really couldn't, but that was in my heart."

Fleming was Guy Madison's co star in Bullwhip (1958) for Allied Artists, and supported Jean Simmons in Home Before Dark (1958), which she later called her favorite role ("It was a marvellous stretch", she said).

Fleming was reunited with Bob Hope in Alias Jesse James (1959) and did an episode of Wagon Train.

She was in the Irwin Allen/Joseph M. Newman production of The Big Circus (1959), co-starring Victor Mature and Vincent Price. This was made for Allied Artists, whom Fleming later sued for unpaid profits.

Fleming travelled to Italy again to make The Revolt of the Slaves (1959) and was second billed in The Crowded Sky (1960).

In 1960, she described herself as "semi-retired", having made money in real estate investments. That year she toured her nightclub act in Las Vegas and Palm Springs.

During the 1950s, 1960s, and into the 1970s, Fleming frequently appeared on television with guest-starring roles on The Red Skelton Show, The Best of Broadway, The Investigators, Shower of Stars, The Dick Powell Show, Wagon Train, Burke's Law, The Virginian, McMillan & Wife, Police Woman, Kung Fu, Ellery Queen, and The Love Boat.

In 1958, Fleming again displayed her singing talent when she recorded her only LP, entitled simply Rhonda (reissued in 2008 on CD as Rhonda Fleming Sings Just For You). In this album, which was released by Columbia Records, she blended then-current songs like "Around The World" with standards such as "Love Me or Leave Me" and "I've Got You Under My Skin". Conductor-arranger Frank Comstock provided the musical direction.

On March 4, 1962, Fleming appeared in one of the last segments of ABC's Follow the Sun in a role opposite Gary Lockwood. She played a Marine in the episode, "Marine of the Month".

In December 1962, Fleming was cast as the glamorous Kitty Bolton in the episode, "Loss of Faith", on the syndicated anthology series, Death Valley Days, hosted by Stanley Andrews. In the story line, Kitty pits Joe Phy (Jim Davis) and Peter Gabriel (Don Collier) to run against each other for sheriff of Pima County, Arizona. Violence results from the rivalry.

In the 1960s, Fleming branched out into other businesses and began performing regularly on stage and in Las Vegas.

One of her final film appearances was in a bit-part as Edith von Secondburg in the comedy The Nude Bomb (1980) starring Don Adams. She also appeared in Waiting for the Wind (1990).

Fleming has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. In 2007, a Golden Palm Star on the Palm Springs Walk of Stars was dedicated to her.

Fleming worked for several charities, especially in the field of cancer care, and served on the committees of many related organizations. In 1991, her fifth husband, Ted Mann, and she established the Rhonda Fleming Mann Clinic for Women's Comprehensive Care at the UCLA Medical Center.

In 1964, Fleming spoke at the "Project Prayer" rally attended by 2,500 at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles, California. The gathering, which was hosted by Anthony Eisley, a star of ABC's Hawaiian Eye series, sought to flood the United States Congress with letters in support of mandatory school prayer, following two decisions in 1962 and 1963 of the United States Supreme Court, which struck down mandatory school prayer as conflicting with the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution.

Joining Fleming and Eisley at the rally were Walter Brennan, Lloyd Nolan, Dale Evans, Pat Boone, and Gloria Swanson. Fleming declared, "Project Prayer is hoping to clarify the First Amendment to the Constitution and reverse this present trend away from God." Eisley and Fleming added that John Wayne, Ronald Reagan, Roy Rogers, Mary Pickford, Jane Russell, Ginger Rogers, and Pat Buttram would also have attended the rally had their schedules not been in conflict.

Fleming married six times:

Thomas Wade Lane, interior decorator, (1940–1942; divorced), one son

Dr. Lewis V. Morrill, Hollywood physician, (July 11, 1952 – 1954; divorced)

Lang Jeffries, actor, (April 3, 1960 – January 11, 1962; divorced)

Hall Bartlett, producer (March 27, 1966 – 1972; divorced)

Ted Mann, producer, (March 11, 1977 – January 15, 2001; his death)

Darol Wayne Carlson (2003 – October 31, 2017; his death)

Through her son Kent Lane (b. 1941), Rhonda also had two granddaughters (Kimberly and Kelly), four great-grandchildren (Wagner, Page, Lane, and Cole), and two great-great-grandchildren.

She was a Presbyterian and a Republican who supported Dwight Eisenhower during the 1952 presidential election.

Fleming died on October 14, 2020, in Saint John's Health Center, Santa Monica, California, at the age of 97. She is interred at Hillside Memorial Park in Culver City, California.

#rhonda fleming #classic hollywood #classic movie stars #golden age of hollywood #old hollywood #1940s hollywood #1950s hollywood #1960s hollywood #1970s hollywood

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squidproquoclarice · 4 years ago

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For the @rdr-secret-santa exchange this year, I got to write for @tiredcowpoke. The request I wrote was “Molly/Mary-Beth, possibly a post-game au thing related to their writing?” Happy Holidays, Cowpoke, and I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

December 1919

St. Denis, Lemoyne

It had been a solemn few years for a poetess, for the world looked upon things with a grim eye, and who could blame them? Between the war and the Spanish flu, that was bad enough. Even a bloody flood of molasses of all things taking lives in a strange and even absurd way. She needed a change from Boston, feeling that urge come over her.

Just as she’d needed a change so long ago and left Dublin for Cousin Brian’s horse farm in California. Back in another life, back when she’d then left Cousin Brian’s horse farm after a few months based on the dark good looks and smooth charms of Mister Aiden O’Malley, or so he’d called himself. Back when she’d been such a fool and become an outlaw’s woman--outlaw’s whore--, something within her liked to hiss still. That part was the one that had been raised to love and fear her father, God the Father, and Father O’Connell alike, a paternal trinity that seemed to have no room for any woman once she wasn’t a virgin.

Some parts of Molly O’Shea clung beneath the skin of Margaret McCarthy nonetheless, and she’d long since had to accept that. Though she listened to them less and less as the years rolled on in their relentless pace. Early on had been difficult. She couldn’t go back to Cousin Brian, couldn’t go back to her father by any means, couldn’t bear to face their condemnation of her shame. So she had gone to Boston, after leaving Dutch and his band of grubby fools behind, a place she had never belonged with a man who used and discarded women. For a woman raised to be an ornament to a man, a true lady, it had been a struggle. But she found eventually that her pen was enough to keep her, rather than the need of a man for it. Forged on into a strange new world where she alone was mistress of her fate, and found it to her liking.

Now here she was in St. Denis for the first time in twenty years, and certainly she was older and wiser and a trifle stouter than the lass of twenty-six who’d never genuinely seen these streets, drinking as much as she had for the heartbreak of it all. It pleased her in some ways to truly experience the city for the first time, finding the old, cultured, European feel of it much to her liking, as opposed to the brashness of Boston that had never quite fit her, no matter how many Irish lived there.

No sooner had she arrived, not even fully unpacking her trunks at the opulent Castille House hotel, built seven years before, than an invitation came from the Krewe of Minerva, whom she was given to understand, had something to do with the Carnival season of Mardi Gras here in St. Denis, and the misspelling of “crew” was quite deliberate, but mostly that it consisted of some of the most prominent women in St. Denis, the wives and daughters and sisters of the powerful, and a handful of independent women as well.

The invitation, printed on heavy card stock, gilt decoration and with neat, flowing copperplate script, asked her to attend an evening celebrating St. Denis’ most prominent female literary luminaries. Oh, the glory of it, to be among people who appreciated such little social niceties as a proper invitation. She thought she understood what they were about--another woman writer had arrived in their midst, and they wished to draw her into their circle. Something in her was giddy about it, even at her age, so delighted to be included, welcomed, in such a way. It hadn’t always been the case.

It was no hardship to attend either given that the reception was in the ballroom of the Castille. So here she was, dressed in a flattering green gown that highlighted her eyes, here to meet the best and brightest lights of St. Denis’ women. Hearing snippets of their chatter as she passed, introducing herself or being introduced one by one, recognizing a few of them from their prominence in the papers.

Henrietta Wicklow, the journalist and ardent suffragette who’d marched for the vote right alongside her deceased mother Dorothy, “Next year we ladies shall all be voting for president--”

A loud voice from a group of ladies clearly enjoying their champagne, a young woman declaring with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other, “Enjoy it now, gals, we’ve only a month until this government foolishness of abolishing liquor begins--”

Philomena Castille, wife of Claude Castille, owner of the very hotel they were now in, “--think that the Mardi Gras ball should reflect the theme of a new dawn for a new decade after the frightful few years we’ve had”, and Mrs. Castille then took charge of her to make further introductions with the brisk efficiency of a talented hostess.

Mary Barrett, wife of one of the men involved in St. Denis’ most prominent bookstore, and apparently also the local literary critic Martin Gillis, hiding behind a man’s name. Something about the woman, small, dark, and neat, with a striking small beauty spot on her right cheek, looked oddly familiar. But Margaret couldn’t quite place her. Perhaps they’d met at some literary event before? “Very pleased to meet you, Miss McCarthy, your book of poems is quite memorable.” From her, it somehow didn’t sound like a platitude.

Now another person approached, and Mrs. Castile said, “Oh, and here’s another of our ladies with a talented pen. We call her by her real name in the bosom of friends here, so here’s Miss Mary-Beth Landry. Though,” she winked one sapphire-blue eye, “you would know her better by her nom de plume, Leslie Dupont. Miss Landry, this is Margaret McCarthy, the poetess. She’s moving down from Boston to grace our city.”

She’d heard of Leslie Dupont, a semi-scandalous writer of semi-scandalous books. She had read several and rather enjoyed them, though some part of her blushed to admit it. But there was the part of her that would always adore romance and adventure. Though she hadn’t touched a great deal of Leslie Dupont’s books, including her most popular novel, “Sunset Over The Red Sage”, because those ones were about outlaws, highwaymen, bandits, and pirates. If there was one thing she had no wish to read in this life, it was a romance involving that sort of man. She’d been hurt enough by her own fantasies of that life without needing to read another woman’s ignorant rose-tinted version of it.

Oh, but she wasn’t so ignorant at all, because as Mary-Beth Landry turned, it had been twenty years, but Margaret still recognized her. Not Landry at all, oh no, but Gaskill. Those tumbledown golden brown curls, the soft blue-grey eyes, the liberal sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose that all still gave her something of an appealing girlishness even though she must have passed forty herself, and the lines beside her eyes and mouth said it as much as the ones Margaret saw in the mirror.

Her first instinct was the desire to turn and run before Mary-Beth could say her name, her old name, and expose Margaret in front of all these people as every bit as much an imposter as her. The second was a flare of anger because even all these years later, she could remember being forced to endure watching Dutch sniffing around her, flirting with her shamelessly, and thinking to herself with raging despairing humiliation, That cheap little tramp, what does she have that I don’t, aside from a few more years of youth? The third was to calm herself, because that was all old history and Dutch Van Der Linde wasn’t worth her concern, and frankly, she had drunk a glass of very fine whiskey eight years ago in pleasure at hearing the government’s Bureau of Investigation had finally caught up with him. Bastard. I hope the Devil himself has you as you deserve.

Mary-Beth’s eyes went wide and startled, and she blurted, “Molly!”

Margaret might have slapped her, but she held herself together. “My, it’s been so long since anybody called me that.”

“You two know each other?” Mrs. Castille said, looking at the two of them with surprise, but at least no suspicion.

“Oh, it was so very long ago,” Mary-Beth said, recovering rapidly. “I’m ashamed to say that I...I broke her cousin’s heart.”

“You’ve broken quite a few hearts, my dear,” Mrs. Castille said cheerfully. Yes, Margaret had heard about Leslie Dupont’s fast ways and string of romances never quite come to fruition. Was there such a thing as a rakess?

Mary-Beth’s gaze stayed on hers, and she gave Margaret a shy, apologetic smile. Surprisingly, she felt her pulse suddenly jump at the gesture, and it didn’t feel like alarm or anger. “I do hope you can forgive me, M--Margaret.”

“Oh, long since forgotten,” Margaret assured her, glad she’d jumped quickly to cover her gaffe, and happy to follow her lead with that story. “The fellow wasn’t worth the bother in the end, now was he? We both said good riddance to him.”

“I’ll let you two catch up,” Mrs. Castille said, gesturing towards the balcony. “The night air is quite fine.”

Given two weeks before she’d been in a miserable Boston winter, the weather here made for a pleasant change, she had to admit. Knowing there was no escaping it, she followed Mary-Beth onto the balcony, some part of her very reluctant to have this conversation, but another part strangely intrigued by what the woman had become. Curse her eternal romantic streak, but of course moving from dreamy guttersnipe and pickpocket to a successful authoress made for quite the tale.

Mary-Beth spoke first, keeping her voice low. “We all wondered what had happened to you. You just--vanished.”

“There was nothing to stay for,” she said, managing to keep the bitterness from her tone. “I was never quite one of you, now was I?” So she had simply not followed them when they cleared out from Shady Belle in an almighty hurry, saying the bank robbery had gone terribly wrong. She’d gone to St. Denis and drunk herself silly for nearly a month, and then she’d sobered enough to tell herself she would take the first train in the station, wherever it was bound, which brought her back to Valentine. Of course she would never stay there. The first train into the Valentine station was bound for Omaha. And she kept doing that until chance brought her to Boston.

“Oh, Molly--”

“Margaret,” she corrected with all the fierce, frosty bite of those Boston winters she’d left behind her. “Molly” was only for her intimate friends, and Mary-Beth Landry née Gaskill was and had been nothing of the sort. She relented somewhat, and asked, “What happened to them, if you know?” She might not have belonged to them, they had made that quite clear, but that didn’t mean she wished them ill, let alone shot to pieces by Pinkertons. She’d read about the big gunslingers of the gang dying in the papers over the years, of course, but all the little people like her, like Mary-Beth, had escaped notice.

“We got lucky. Nobody else died that year after Lenny and Hosea,” Mary-Beth answered. “I left a couple of weeks before the end of it all, Pearson and me together, but I’ve run into enough of them in the years since here and there.”

“Arthur died, though?” Margaret said in confusion. He clearly had been killed. The papers had blared it everywhere in triumph, the Pinkertons bagging one more significant quarry even if Dutch himself slipped through their fingers.

If there had been anyone else in the gang she probably should have let herself like and consider halfway to a friend, it might well have been Arthur. There was an awkward gentlemanliness and kindness towards her and all the women beneath that drawling uncouthness, as if he tried to keep the best of himself well hidden. Fetching her that mirror only because she mentioned wanting one? That was the sort of man Arthur Morgan had been, even if she’d been too much of a snob to see it at the time, far more swayed by Dutch’s smooth manners and darkly seductive charisma, the veneer of the proper gentleman of the sort she prized. She couldn’t say she had mourned Arthur at the time, but she had thought about him now and again since. He seemed like a better man than Dutch had let him be, and that felt like a shame.

Mary-Beth leaned closer, and she gave a knowing cat’s smile. “The reports of his death may have been exaggerated. The Pinkertons left him for dead, but it seems that wasn’t quite the case.”

“No!” Delicious gossip, that, even if she could never tell another soul. “Then--what? Who?”

“Sadie’s the one who got him out alive. They stayed together, ended up married, and they’re up in Canada with their children. We don’t write much, just the occasional Christmas card, but it sounds as though they’re well last I heard.”

Margaret had to shake her head, trying to not laugh. Arthur Morgan had married Sadie Adler? That brash, angry half-feral woman strolling around in her pants and swearing a blue streak and toting a rifle, who had made it clear she’d as soon kill a man if he looked at her wrong? But that was old Molly O’Shea talking, a posh lady looking down her nose at Sadie as a coarse farm wife who prided herself on being unnaturally mannish besides. Well, well. Hidden depths to her, I suppose. Or perhaps she changed herself to something finer when it was all said and done. She had done so herself. It seemed Mary-Beth had, at least in some ways.

“Some of the rest are up there in Canada as well. Charles, Karen, Abigail, and such. Pearson’s out in Rhodes, and the Reverend in New York, last I heard.” Abigail, still chasing the feckless boy-man father of her child when the boy was growing old enough to read. Karen, a loudmouthed, chubby creature who fancied herself a hellraiser, had even punched Margaret in the face once. Though I suppose deserved it, mocking her as I did. Saying Sean MacGuire was a brainless, reckless fool and I knew hundreds more Irishmen just like him. Certainly we both turned too much to the drink for the love of men who could never love us as we needed. Abigail never did that at least, though John wasn’t nearly worthy of her that I saw, but the heart wants what it wants. I made quite a solid proof of that lunacy. “Susan, Miss Grimshaw, she stayed around here for a bit, but she always was restless. She’s out in San Francisco now, moved there a year after the earthquake.” Margaret absorbed that, remembering the older woman and her need to feel relevant by bossing people around. The two of them had quite the mutual disdain, Dutch’s young lover versus his older former flame. Whereas back then she’d rolled her eyes at the jealous old biddy who clearly had it in for Dutch choosing another woman, now she was about the age Susan Grimshaw had been then. She could look on it with some sympathy--how much it had hurt to see Dutch already abandoning her, and Susan’s loyalty and love for Dutch had been there even so many years later. How hard must that have been? How hard must it have been to be an unmarried woman approaching fifty, who most men now didn’t value at all? Margaret had escaped that snare, but Dutch had kept Susan dependent on him all that time. Perhaps that was the softening of years, and wisdom, that she could see such things now.

Mary-Beth continued, “Tilly was actually here until earlier this year. She and her husband Henri headed north to Chicago. Better opportunities there for them there, though. I do miss her dreadfully. We used to try and meet every other Thursday at least, sometimes with the children. I’d spoil them with candy and books and toys, and Tilly would always just smile at it. Five children under twelve, quite the handful, but oh, how wonderful they all are. I wonder if baby Amelie will even remember me. She’s only two and a half now.” She wore a wistful, faded, sad little smile at recounting those memories.

Hearing Mary-Beth talk about all the women that had been with Dutch’s people then, it eased something in her to hear they all seemed to have done well and lived happy lives. She’d long since had to face the idea that her youthful dismissal of all of them as a pack of cheap, coarse unmannered creatures not worthy of her time, as different from her bearing and breeding as chalk and cheese, had been wrong. Learned that the line between being one of those women in the gutter and safely embroidering samplers in a graceful parlor was painfully razor thin. Then Mary-Beth shrugged in a sharp, almost dismissive way, and there was something striving too hard for chipper casualness in her tone when she said, “So now it’s only little old me left here in St. Denis.” “And me now, I suppose.” She said it before she could think better of it, laying claim to something she hadn’t cared about in so long, and hadn’t even felt a part of when she was in the thick of it. And yet.

She’d heard that loneliness in Mary-Beth’s voice, and recognized with a startle that she’d felt that same seemingly indefinable loneliness all too often, for all she hadn’t been around anyone else who ran with Dutch’s gang, let alone thought she’d wanted them there.

There was a part of her she couldn’t ever truly talk about, both from the shame of a foolish romance that would have labeled her as firmly ruined, and from the fear of being known as someone who’d been involved with all that unsavory outlaw business. To be with one person she didn’t have to fearfully conceal that behind an ironbound mask, and recognizing the sheer bloody effort it had been these past twenty years to do it, felt like an agonizing relief that she had never known she wanted. Like taking her corset off at the end of the day, laced stern and tight now against the ever-encroaching flesh of middle age, and breathing.

Mary-Beth looked at her, a gentle smile curving her lips. “And you now.” She hesitated, and then said almost shyly, “I did read ‘Odes to a Far Country’, you know. Though my favorite poem in it is ‘The Butterfly and the Phoenix’.”

“Oh!” She felt herself blushing, pleased but surprised. “That’s unusual. Nobody ever likes that one best.” One of her earliest published poems, and she looked back on it now as a somewhat mawkish, clumsy rumination from a woman facing an uncertain future, writing about metamorphosis, slumber, and fire from the ashes. The symbolism in it felt treacly and heavy-handed to her now. “It’s...very untidy.”

“Well, I like it.” Mary-Beth spread her hands and shrugged. “It’s honest. It’s a very messy thing to remake yourself, isn’t it?”

She thought she understood now, with a flash of insight. Mary-Beth had always seemed dreamy, even a bit dull at her insistence on painting everything in a romantic light, as if she simply couldn’t see the awful reality they lived in. How much of that was true then and how much was an act, Margaret couldn’t say, given she wouldn’t give herself much credit for being terribly perceptive in those days. But she had the suspicion Leslie Dupont now saw things clearer, and still chose to write those silly romances only because they brought some joy to the world. Perhaps she wrote about outlaws and pirates only to purge her own demons in some way.

She felt that flicker in her chest again, confessing, “I liked ‘Ribbons of Scarlet’ best.” That one was about a French noblewoman bound for the guillotine, and her love for the humble gardener who’d been her childhood friend. Who then, of course, helped break her out of the Bastille itself, and they fled together, escaped to freedom in America.

“Nobody ever likes that one best,” Mary-Beth said, imitating Margaret’s Dublin accent dreadfully, turning it into some God-forsaken stage Irish and a poor one at that, and Margaret found herself smiling helplessly at it. “People prefer their French Revolution stories with tragic and doomed endings, I’ve found.”

She sighed, looking out into the electric lamp-lit city at night, like a thousand fireflies glowing, fighting back the darkness. “I think we’ve had rather enough of tragic and doomed endings.”

They’d been young enough then, and foolish, and unable to see things clearly, let alone each other. She’d been twenty-six, and Mary-Beth, what, twenty-one perhaps? Now here they were, two middle-aged women brought together again in St. Denis by fate and literature both, and looking at the other woman, Margaret thought she felt something about Mary-Beth that just fit in some peculiar, easy way. “I think we have,” Mary-Beth answered softly. “I only wrote one. My first book. And I only implied it that way, and then, well, I undid it in the sequel anyhow when I thought better of it.” She turned to look at Margaret. “But here we are talking away and you’ve just gotten here to the gathering, and I’m keeping you all to myself.”

“I don’t mind, not at all,” she blurted, before she could help herself, and found herself blushing hotly again, and was surprised to see an answering blush in Mary-Beth’s cheeks. At their age, no less, blushing like two schoolgirls in braids! “But I probably should make the rounds, of course. See and be seen.”

“Of course.” Mary-Beth smiled at her. “Do you have plans for Christmas? I certainly don’t, not aside from the usual round of parties, but you know what I mean. Real plans for Christmas Day, not social ones. If not, you’d be welcome to come to my home, if you’d like.” She reached out to touch Margaret’s arm gently, and oh, how glad she was the fashion was no longer for elbow-length gloves along with an evening gown, because the touch of those fingers on her bare arm sent a frisson of longing through her like she hadn’t felt in years. She’d taken some to her bed discreetly when the mood struck, pleasant enough interludes, but there had never been anything of her heart in it. This, oh, this? This had destroyed her once and it could destroy her again, but how she suddenly wanted, something that wasn’t the overwhelming possession she had craved from Dutch, but something finer, brighter, something like kindred souls finding each other after so long.

She didn’t have a mean bone in her body then, and I very much doubt she does now. She’s not Dutch. Telling herself that, feeling her heart hesitantly peek open only a crack, it was enough for now. She looked up into Mary-Beth’s eyes, and smiled back. “I’d like that very much.”

A/N: Since it was a “Molly lives!” AU already, I decided to just go full “The gang members who died in Chapters 5 and 6 actually live!” AU, since neither Molly nor Susan are tough to spare their sad Beaver Hollow fates, Karen’s is ambiguous, and I’ve definitely explored the idea that there was a clear chance for Arthur if Sadie came back for him. Especially the chance for Molly to reflect a bit on Susan and Karen with greater age and wisdom and see the similarities felt too good to pass up.

#molly o'shea #mary beth gaskill #rdr2 #rdr secret santa 2020 #mollybeth #tiredcowpoke #getting to write two 40something bi literary women for the holidays was lovely #writing #holiday exchange

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