#Watch Out for Riders: Tips on sharing the road

[mediumgayitalian]

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———

By all accounts, Will knows what he’s doing.

He still drives like a godsdamn maniac.

“Do you want us to die?” Nico hollers, cheeks aching from the force of his grin, belly flipping at the peal of Will’s laughter.

The bike is exhilarating, as Will weaves it around cars at unbelievable speeds, working with the bike like it’s a part of him, like it’s not a separate thing he has to move. He steers it with a natural ease Nico’s only really seen in some of the best pegasus riders in camp — he knows the machine intimately enough to anticipate how it moves, how it reacts. It really is an extension of his body.

He left any panic about gripping onto Will somewhere in Long Island — to let go would be suicide. He has to hold on to stay onto the bike, to know to lean when Will leans, to tense when he tenses. Besides that, he’s having fun. He’s not the one driving, so he’s free to rest his helmet on Will’s back and watch as the world whips by — dizzying, really, as the speed of the bike making the green-budding trees melt into the bright blue skies, mix with the tar black asphalt, glow under the sparkling sun. The whole world looks like sidewalk chalk after it rains, a swirling mass of colour and streaks as artistic or more than what it was before it was washed away. The only indication that they’re actually going anywhere rather than standing straight in the middle of a kaleidoscope is the spots of roadside green that pop up every now and again, or a heavy lean to the side and Will switches lanes.

As they pull out of New York, Will starts to slow down. The dizzying mass of colours calms until everything’s at a slow spin, as Will mellows out to a speed that can be registered on a mortal odometer. With less wind whipping all over, Nico can actually hear him.

“Better than a flying chariot?”

Nico grins. “Definitely.”

“Another great thing about this is that it has a CD player. Two-nothing for the sad hunk of wood.”

By great thing Will of course means the same four songs I’ve been obsessed with for a month playing over and over and over until you are ready to launch yourself off the bike and join the dead raccoon at the side of the road, but that still doesn’t manage to ruin it. Something about driving top speeds in the early spring air makes it hard to be annoyed about annoying.

(Or maybe it’s the way Nico can feel Will’s muscles shift every time he moves, or how he winks every time he catches Nico’s eye in the mirrors, or the lowkey kind of sinful the way he straddles the seat. But Nico is quite happy sharing a name with a river in Egypt, so he ignores these fun facts and continues to delude himself, an art in which he is become quite wondrously skilled.)

Somewhere between Jersey and Delaware, the traffic picks up again, so Will shouts for him to hold on and cranks up the speed. Nico clenches tightly around his waist, squeezing his eyes shut, this time, and listens to the roar of air as they shove through it fast enough to rival sound. When they’re drifting, again, Nico can feel an incline, and looks up just in time to watch Will exit off the highway.

“Are we here already?” he shouts, incredulous. He knows his ADHD makes him bad with time, but jeez — it can’t have been more than an hour, an hour and a half.

“Not yet,” Will says, barely having to raise his voice as they come to a stop, heel of his boot clicking on the pavement. He checks both ways and then, once nothing comes around the bend, pushes off and guides them down a winding back road, tipping around curves and speeding down hills. Nico’s stomach bottoms out every drop, and he can’t clamp down the giggle that pushes out his throat, as ridiculous as it is. Luckily, Will’s giggling, too.

In a few minutes, they pull up to an old, rusted gas station, with signs so old they’re hand-painted. Will kills the engine and flicks out the kickstand, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair. It’s such a tangled mess that Nico can’t help but reach out and tug on a lopsided curl.

“I didn’t think this thing needed gas.”

“It doesn’t!” He pats a dark piece of glass in between the handlebars. “It’s solar-powered. But I figured you could use a minute to stretch your legs, and frankly, if I don’t eat something soon I genuinely might cook you.”

“You forgot to eat today, didn’t you.”

“…No.”

As soon as he speaks, his eyes start to water. His throat swells. He holds his breath for a noble four seconds, and then starts wheezing.

Nico sighs heavily. “Dumbass.”

Hauling him upright by the collar, Nico drags him towards the little corner store. This, at least, is familiar. Will gets caught up in his work easily, and forgets to do things like eat or move or, on one particularly amusing occasion, breathe. (Just tipped right over, one day, onto the floor, mid-poultice. There is a chip on the side of the stone mortar to this day. Nico, Will’s other friends, and his siblings take shifts bringing it up to dunk on him properly. Last he checked, Lou Ellen commissioned Jake Mason to make a plaque to hang on the infirmary wall, memorializing the incident forever.)

“C’mon, stupid. Let’s get you a sandwich. And Benadryl.”

“I’m honestly fine,” Will wheezes, cheeks swelling slightly.

“Stop talking,” Nico orders. “You’re making it worse.”

Wisely, Will clamps up. That, or his throat is starting to close. Either is likely.

His stubborn determination to continue lying despite being literally allergic to it would be impressive, if it wasn’t so irritating.

A little bell rings by the door when Nico pushes it open, making the person sitting behind the counter look up.

“Ah,” they say sagely, folding up their newspaper. “Demigods.”

Immediately, Nico’s on alert. Before he can draw his sword, though, Will lifts a hive-spotted hand in a wave.

“Hey, Berchio,” he croaks.

The person at the counter — Berchio — smiles ruefully.

“Benadryl?”

Nico nods hesitantly, still a little wary at the stranger, but Will is starting to keen over, now, and Nico didn’t think to bring an Epi-Pen (since the allergy is totally avoidable, William, you are your own worst enemy), so he’s running out of options. “Please.”

Chuckling to themself, Berchio ruffles around a shelf by the checkout counter, locating the familiar bottle after a minute — Will gets himself into these situations a lot, he has a serious twizzler problem and should consider getting his own stash instead of lifting it from the Hermes cabin and then lying about where it went — and rolling towards them. The spokes of their wheelchair have little skull charms on them that make a pleasant tinkling noise as they spin, making Nico trust them instantly. He should get Chiron wheel beads. That’s sick as hell.

“Here, kid. Drink water, too, you’re going to dry yourself out.”

Will garbles out a thank you, choking down the medicine. As all meds do with Apollo’s children, lucky bastards that they are, it works quickly, and in minutes he’s breathing right again.

“Gods, I love oxygen.”

“You are a human disaster,” Nico informs him. “Like, hugely.”

Will takes a sip of his water, pondering that. “Is that more embarrassing for you, or for me?”

“Why the hell would it be embarrassing for me?”

“Well, since you like me so much.” Nico chokes. “I might be a disaster, but at least I don’t have a crush on one.”

“All this wheezing,” Berchio sighs. “This must be Nico?”

“The one and only,” Will says cheerfully. He reaches out and touches a warm hand to Nico’s throat, immediately clearing his airways. Now no longer struggling for breath, Nico darts out and punches him, hard, on the arm.

“Ow! Meanie!”

“You are such a derp-faced dweeb,” Nico hisses, fully aware he’s red in the face. “Why are you — why are you this way.”

“I’m gonna tell Chiron you were bullying me!”

“Tell him! I’ll tell him you were the one to sprinkle instant mashed potatoes all over the grass before it rained, not Cecil!”

Will snaps his mouth shut. “I told you that in confidence.”

Nico smiles smugly. “Well, that’s on you. My loyalties are about as secure as my parent’s relationship.”

“If you two are finished flirting,” interrupts an amused voice, making both of them jump. Berchio watches them with their arms crossed, eyebrow raised in a similar chiding way to Chiron last time he caught Nico attempting to sneak an entire tray of brownies from the kitchen (mark his words — as soon as he can shadow travel again, no other camper will be seeing a brownie as long as they shall live). They shake their head, tutting exaggeratedly. “My, my, Will, I’m beginning to understand why you mentioned him every time you opened your mouth. I figured you liked him, but this is ridiculous.”

For once, Will is the one to flush crimson. He stutters something entirely incomprehensible, gesturing vaguely towards Berchio, and then frantically towards Nico, and finally squawks something about trust and the breaching of it. He goes red to the very roots of his hair, clamping his own mouth shut mid-sentence and scowling something awful.

Suddenly, Nico gets it. This is why no one ever leaves him alone. Oh, he is loathe to give the assholes he’s friends with credit, but…

When does he ever get to see Will — confident, easy Will — go scarlet?

“So you like me,” he says, shit eating grin stretching across his face. “Oh ho ho ho.”

“Oh, shut up,” Will snaps, without any heat. “Last time we played volleyball you got a concussion ‘cause you couldn’t stop staring at my chest and took a ball to the face.”

“That — it was — that hit was malicious,” he sputters. “And how is it my fault you’re always ditching your shirt at the first available opportunity like some kind of whore? I couldn’t not look!”

“Avert your eyes, then, scoundrel!”

“I — don’t call me a scoundrel! You’re a scoundrel!”

“You’re both late, is what you are,” Berchio interrupts again. “Will, I assume you’re running an errand?”

Still a little flushed, Will nods. “Yes. Thanks, Berchio. We’re picking up parts in Roanoke, I just stopped for some food.”

“He forgot to eat this morning,” Nico pipes up. He figures that Berchio seems comfortable enough with Will that they can act as a disappointed authority figure, which will make Mr. Daddy Issues Solace crumple like a castle built on a pillar of sand — he needs the humbling. (Also, Nico will get him on a healthier track or die trying. It’s not fair that he gets to be a big hypocrite about good diet and eating and sleeping habits and then turn around and act a fool. Someone needs to watch out for the idiot, or he’s going to get himself killed, and then Nico is going to have to spend the rest of his life in the Underworld, yelling at him.)

“William.”

Nico’s theory is proven correct. Berchio stares at Will with the perfect mix of disappointment and concern, immediately triggering the scramble-to-please expression on Will’s face. He practically stumbles over himself trying to follow after him and get fed.

“Are you happy with a sandwich, Nico? I know Will’ll eat anything that even remotely looks like food, but most of us have standards,” they tease.

Nico snorts at Will’s offended pout. “Yeah, a sandwich is more than fine. Thanks, Berchio.”

After handing them both a sandwich they pull from one of the many fridges in the little convenience store, they guide them outside, parking their wheelchair next to the curb they sit on and joining them in a little picnic.

“So how do you know each other?” Nico asks, gesturing between the two of them.

Will answers first, because Berchio, who is a polite person with manners, takes the time to swallow their food.

“I stop here all the time,” he says, garbled, making both Nico and Berchio wince. Nico takes the initiative to kick him.

“Stop being disgusting and explain yourself without showing off the contents of your mouth,” Nico threatens, “or I’m going to stab you again.”

Will swallows, sticks out his tongue, and continues.

“First time I used the bike, I got it into my head that I should go visit my mom. Would’ve been fine, except I was thirteen and hadn’t been outside of camp in six years and got chased by a pack of empousai the second I left the city, basically.”

“I was collecting herbs and sensed him coming,” Berchio explains. “He crossed the borders I have set up; I hid him here. Now he stops by whenever he’s travelling to chat.” Berchio smiles warmly. “I appreciate the company.”

Will grins back. “Me too! Plus, I very much appreciate the herb exchange. Speaking of which, I have your goldenrod.”

He digs into his jeans pocket, pulling out a bundle. He hands it over to Berchio, who accepts it gratefully, handing over their own bundle to Will.

“And your witch hazel.”

“Berchio’s an Ipotane,” Will explains, catching sight of Nico’s furrowed brow. “They’ve been doing this healing stuff for centuries. They’re real good with salves.”

Nico shakes his head fondly. “Even when you’re being cool, you’re a nerd.” He gestures to the bike. “Taking your secret motorcycle to visit your secret mentor to learn more about healing. Gods, it’s like Apollo made you in a lab.”

“You take that back! I contain multitudes!”

“And now you’re quoting famous poems, dear gods, try to prove my point better, why don’t you —”

“Blah blah blah!”

Nico grins at him, rolling his eyes, and Will is just as playfully dramatic with his bit lip and hidden smile and the hair he tucks behind his ear like he does when he wants to touch somebody but isn’t sure if it’s invited. Nico answers the question for him, reaching out and flicking his knuckles as an excuse to touch his hands. Will takes it, beaming.

“Thank you for the food, Berchio,” Will says when they finish, leaning down to hug them. “We gotta get going, but I’ll be back in a couple weeks. I had a dream about an outbreak, so no doubt the infirmary will need restocked soon.”

“Bring your boyfriend next time,” Berchio suggests, grinning when Nico goes red at the term. “Watching the two of you was not unlike one of Sterne’s famous productions.”

“I take offence to that,” Will says haughtily.

“Good. You needed humbling.”

“Nobody appreciates me around here!”

Nico bites back the I do that threatens to escape his throat. Gods, he’s so embarrassing. Whoever taught him how to speak should have to pay for their crimes.

They head back to the bike, waving goodbye to the Ipotane and speeding off. The drive the rest of the way down south is much calmer, bellies full and energy somewhat spent, and it helps that there’s no traffic. Will cruises, keeping time with the sun that’s inching across the sky, ignoring Nico’s suggestion to attempt to race his dad. They arrive in Roanoke in good time, following Nyssa’s scrawled directions to the parts shop.

The shop is old, visibly, paint peeling and smelling strongly of car grease. As Nysa predicted, the person they speak to — a mechanic, by the look of her jumpsuit — doesn’t ask so much as a single question at the two teenagers rolling up to her doorstep, heading to the greasy shelves of car parts and grabbing what they need with a shrug.

“Well,” says Will slowly as she piles them on the counter, “that’s…more than I anticipated.”

Nico looks at the stack of twisted metal. He looks at the bike. Finally, he looks at his dumbass friend.

“Solace.”

Will scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah?”

“Solace, tell me you have space to put this stuff.”

“Well, we can try the seat compartment?”

Nico buries his head in his hands. “Solace.”

“What!”

“You know what, lughead! We cannot do the one thing we came here to do! Gods!”

“I usually go on supply runs for the infirmary, okay!” Will cries. “That stuff is way less bulky! I forgot to compensate!”

Nico groans. At this point, they’re going to have to bus back, or something equally as stupid. And what are they gonna do with the bike? Gods, if Nico was here by himself and also maybe possibly with Reyna, who could share her strength, he’d just —

He stills.

“Oh, no,” Will says, pointing a stern finger, “oh, no, di Angelo, I know that look, you have been expressly banned —”

“Relax,” Nico grumbles. “Don’t you trust me?”

“With everything,” Will says automatically, then flushes for the second time that day. “But that is not the point —”

Deciding he will return to that later — and he most certainly will — Nico darts forward. Before Will can stop him, he puts both hands on the pile of parts, lunges towards the nearest shadow, and shoved them in, withdrawing as quickly as he can manage.

“Nico!”

He waits.

“Oh, you fuckin’ — you goddamn son of a mother!”

He checks his hands — still solid.

“I am going to smash you flat an’ feed you through a goddamn juicer! You fuckin’ heart-stopper!”

He grins. “I told you I could do some Underworld magic.”

“Underworld deez fuckin’ nuts!” Will stomps forward, grabbing Nico’s hands to do his own inspection. “What part of doctor’s orders are you missin’, huh? You think I wanna watch you fade again? You think I wanna —” His voice cracks, hands tightening around Nico’s wrists. Nico softens immediately, smug look melting into something gentler.

“Will.”

“You coulda died, Nico, you coulda faded to — to nothin’.”

“Will.” He flips his hands so his palms meet Will’s, and squeezes, smiling gently. “Feel my vitals, dork. Am I fading?”

Will exhales. “No.”

“Am I close?”

“…No.”

He squeezes again. “I’m fine, Will.”

“You scared me.” The anger in his voice has faded into something soft — something afraid. Suddenly the hands on his wrists feel more clingy than anything, and a twinge of guilt goes off in Nico’s stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He squeezes Will’s hands one last time, and when that doesn’t do much, lets go to wrap around his cheeks, instead, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I don’t mean to restrict you,” Will says softly. “It’s just — I worry, is all.”

Nico taps their foreheads together, smile pulling at his face. This, he can — this he can deal with. This version of Will, soft and nervous and caring, makes it a lot easier to slide his fingers into the mess of Will’s curls, to run his thumbs over his cheekbones and feel him shiver.

“Would that have anything to do with the alleged crush you have on me?”

Will grins. “It might.” One of his hands comes up to rest on top of Nico’s, brushing over his knuckles. “All your moonin’ after me had me looking twice, I guess.”

“You’re such a dick,” Nico scoffs, and yanks him down to meet him in the middle, laughing, swallowing his smile and relishing in the warm press of their bodies. It’s — gods, it’s everything, it’s a thousand times better than he imagined, and at the same time everything he expected. Will smells like wind and sunshine and his lavender shampoo, and his hands are roughened from all the antiseptic he has to use, and his lips are surprisingly chapped, but the press of his cheeks is soft, and the feel of him is overwhelming. It feels, as cliche as it is, like the final burst of a firework after watching the smokey trail of the rocket with bated breath, watching it crest the night sky before exploding, finally, amongst the stars, it’s like —

A cleared throat startled them apart.

“Anytime y’all feel like paying for those parts, it would be great.”

Will grins sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says, pulling out the money Chiron gave him. His grin turns sly, and Nico’s knees turn to jelly. “My boyfriend’s just super distracting.”

[forest-hashira]

First Flight

ok per @peachdues request, here is a sneak peak of Reader's first flight with their dragon in my dragon rider au! (for context, reader & satosugu are about 14-15 here)

“Up,” you commanded, tugging at the saddle just enough to give her the necessary pressure indicator to go with the demand. The dragon lifted herself to her feet smoothly, and you glanced over to your left, where both Satoru and Suguru sat, already astride their own dragons.

The pair were both smiling at you, and Suguru nodded in encouragement as Satoru spoke. “Your time to shine, princess,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “We’ll be right behind you.”

His words left you feeling a little giddy, and all you could do was nod before turning your attention back to your dragon, who was looking at you patiently over her shoulder. “Alright. Takara: tobu.”

The command had barely left your lips before her wings began to flap, her excitement obvious to everyone watching. The knowledge that you had an audience quickly faded away, though, as Takara’s wings stretched out fully, the tips of them feet above your head, even where you sat atop her back. You barely had a moment to admire the sheer size of your companion before she was launching the pair of you upwards, one downstroke of her wings strong enough to lift you both fully out of the training arena, a second carrying you even higher, rooftops and roads rapidly shrinking from sight.

Within seconds, you were breaking through the clouds, and your eyes widened as you gazed out over pure white, the sun high overhead as Takara leveled out, apparently satisfied with the height she’d reached. The pure, weightless euphoria you felt was almost too much to bear, and you felt tears filling your eyes.

After just a few seconds, Satoru and Suguru broke through the clouds with Kenji and Niji, a short distance behind where you were soaring with Takara. They took a few moments to absorb the sight of you becoming more comfortable in your saddle, sitting up straighter and loosening your grip on the handles; even though this was your first flight with the dragon, you had complete faith that she wouldn’t let you fall. They shared a glance, unable to hide the affection they felt for you from each other. A sudden, joyous laugh from you pulled their attention back, and they grinned as they urged their dragons forward to catch up with you, one of them on either side of Takara.

You turned your head to the side when you heard a familiar voice call out to you.

“Feeling good?” Satoru’s voice rang out, his toothy grin as bright white as the clouds below you. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this for so long!” you called back, another laugh escaping you at the look on his face. The laugh he let out in response had your stomach doing cartwheels.

“You’re not missing out anymore, though.” Suguru’s voice wasn’t as loud as Satoru’s, but it rang out clearly as he smiled at you. His eyes sparkled as they met yours, and the way he looked at you had you feeling flustered all of a sudden. “Now I don’t have to worry about leaving you behind when Satoru and Kenji decide to cause trouble.”

“Hey!” the white haired boy protested, scowling at his friend. “We do not cause trouble!”

“Because you are trouble!” you interjected with a grin, cutting him off before he could bicker any further. “Now, come on, I want to see how long it takes you and Kenji to catch up!”

i don't think i've mentioned this before, but reader & satosugu trained their dragons to respond to japanese commands. from what i could find, "tobu" means fly! anyways hope you guys like this, i've got some more au posting stuff in the works for you (probably not until next month tho since thanksgiving is in a few days, and also i work retail on black friday 😭)

[mocha-gladiator]

characters included: Ivy, Jenny, unnamed side character

content warnings: blood and drowning

Chapter 1

What Faeries Are

Faire Folk:

Collective Noun

1. (In the realm of Kingsmen) Faire Folk or “Faeries” are any creature strange and unusual. These include, but are not limited to: pixies, dragons, kelpies, and nymphs.

11/18/1315

“Hot pies! Hot pies! Geese and Piglets! Come dine, come dine!” cried a man with a tray hung by his neck. He wore bright clothes and pointed little shoes with bells on the tips, looking a bit like a court jester as he walked about talking to no-one.

Ivy grumbled and curled her lip at his call. The Huckster had exactly eight lines he cried out to the journeymen and fish mongers, and she knew every chime. Geese and piglets! Toppenny pies, toppenny pies! Pasties, pasties, finest in town! Over and over again until his voice grew hoarse. She would hear it in her sleep sometimes.

Still, she felt bad for him. The first snow lay an inch thick at his feet, and the wind grabbed at his coat and rung the bells of his shoes. He would have to sell his pies before they went cold—else risk being fined for reheating them.

Ivy propped her elbow on the old pine boards, chin in her hand. When she opened her mouth, a cloud of mist formed before her like dragon smoke in the early morning air. Her cheek felt cold to the touch, and her mitted fingers were slow and daft as she fiddled a copper penny in her free hand. She was cold, too, but at least she was not a huckster.

A door creaked behind her. “Has anyone come to buy?” Her sister’s voice. Ivy turned to find a girl of sixteen standing behind the door with only her head peaking out. Younger, she shared the same freckles on her face and hands, but her auburn hair was much straighter and more manageable.

“No….” Ivy watched a drop of water fall to the floor at the girl’s feet. Her hair hung wet from her head, though the rest of her was dry. She must have washed in the basin. Convenient, Ivy thought. If her hair was wet, she would use it as an excuse to not sit the sales table for her. “Everyone is at the pub because of the snow. I’ve not even seen that black dog yet—”

Then came the sound of hooves. A journeyman? Ivy leaned her head outside to see a lone horse trotting down the hill towards them. Something glinted on its nose—a bridle, perhaps. Yet no rider sat upon its back, nor any saddle.

She frowned.

“What is it?” The younger still hid behind the door, still hid from work, but the hinges creaked as she leaned out just a little more.

“A pretty black horse.” She sat up a little straighter in her seat, concerned. “No rider, though. I wonder if it threw somebody.”

“Hot pies! Hot pies!” cried the Huckster, a new smile on his face.

Ivy knew he could not see all that well. I wonder if I should call out and tell him? He was quite a distance away, though, and she did not know him well enough to guess how the interaction would go. What if he could not understand her? What if she had to repeat herself again and again? She decided against it.

“Shouldn’t we do something about it?” Jenny asked.

Ivy cringed. The horse held its head high with its eyes rolled white. Puffs of vapor steamed from its nostrils, too, and its ears kept flicking back and forth. It looked wild.

If she caught it, she would have to return it to its rider. Depending how the horse had thrown them, however, they could be hurt badly. An image flashed in her mind of someone lying on the ground with the back of their head cracked like an eggshell. The blood would stand out well on this snow.

She glanced across the road to another shop. Inside sat an older woman with tins of cheese flans on display. She had not gotten up to do anything about it.

Maybe she could pass it on to someone else. “Where’s Da?” she asked.

She shivered. Her wet hair was beginning to freeze. “He said he was going down to the loche to buy flour from the boats.”

Great. “Has Ma come home from Charleston yet?”

Jenny shook her head.

The Huckster had grown quiet for the first time in hours. It seemed he finally realized the beast was uncontrolled, and had begun to back away from it. He did not want to spill his pies.

Ivy pinched her lips. She knew what that felt like. How many times had she spent hours baking sweets only to drop them, straight out of the oven?

The door creaked a bit. “Do you want me to go—”

“No.” She smacked the penny face-down on the table. “He’s fine. He’s a grown man. He can handle it.”

The bells jingled on the man’s shoes as he backed away from the horse. “Hey, hey, hey!” He waved his arm in the air. “Get away! Go on!”

The beast did not shy.

Something turned in Ivy’s head then. The closer she looked, the more things she noticed wrong with the horse. It shivered. A thin layer of frost covered its coat and, like Jenny’s hair, part of its mane and tail had frozen solid. She watched closely the tip of its tail, and a drop of water fell to the snow. The horse was soaked.

The rider.

Ivy’s hand found her lips. Her mind at once went to her father. Had he tried to buy a new horse from the docks? Her mind filled with new pictures. One of the horse rearing and casting them both backwards into the loch. Another of the horse crawling out of the icy water alone. A third of her father suspended lifeless in the water, knocked unconscious by the horse’s hoof.

She shook her head. No. No, Da is superstitious. He would never buy a black horse. So what was it then? She knew something was not right.

“Hey!” The man’s voice boomed.

One of his pies lay splattered in the snow. A beef pie, by the looks of it. Ivy leaned over the table and squinted. Was it eating it or just nosing it? She stood up out of her chair and leaned further over the table. No…no, it was eating it.

Then she watched it’s mouth open a little too wide, with a few too many teeth.

“That’s not a horse,” she breathed.

The bread basket scratched the wood just before it fell. It did not even make that loud of a sound. Yet it heard it. Milky eyes fixed on her, and Ivy wondered how well it could see out of the water. Fish’s whiskers quivered from its throat, chin and jaw, tasting the air for her. She hoped the frost kept its senses dull.

A sword sat propped up against the inner wall, cold in its sheath. She did not have to look. She knew it was there. “Jenny, get back inside.” Her voice was calm, almost nonchalant. Almost.

“Hold on. Poolish got out.” The cat.

She does not know. She heard the tomcat purring behind her, and the pat of Jenny’s bare feet on the stone floor.

“Jenny, get back inside,” she repeated. She did not want to scare the girl, but she did not want her to hear what might happen next. Across the street, the kelpie still watched her. She could see the way it shivered. It did not want to be out here, either.

Her sister fell silent. The cat whirred as she picked him up. The footsteps came slower as she padded back to the door. “…What about you?”

Her hands shivered as she pulled her mittens off, one at a time. “I’m going to make sure it doesn’t come back.” She reached for the hilt. Belt loops jingled on the sheath as it fell from the blade.

“That’s Da’s!” she whispered. “You don’t know how to use—”

But Ivy had already crept out the window. She kept her eye on the Faerie, and it on her. If it took off, it would be too late. She had no horse here, no rope to catch it with.

Ivy raised her voice. “Don’t touch it,” she called.

The man glanced between her and the horse, then to her sword. He looked confused at first, then concerned. Was she threatening him?

“It wants the pies.” Her voice cracked. Her arms felt weak. “Just lay them on the ground and back away slowly. Come towards me.”

He scowled. “I know it wants the pies. Look what it did already!” He flourished his hand dangerously close to the horse’s neck.

“I know, I know it did!” She placated with her palm. “Just…just don’t touch it, okay? Put the pies down and back away.”

The Kelpie reached for another pie, the first still half-eaten on the ground. Then, out of habit or perhaps indignation, the man smacked its neck.

His hand stuck fast.

Ivy bolted. She was going to be left behind if she didn’t. No horse could catch it. No rope could hold it. The only thing that could keep pace with a kelpie, was itself.

She bared her teeth and let out a cry as the creature spun on its heels. Dangerously close to its backwards hooves, she made one last spring. And her hand clapped the other side of its sticky neck.

Her shoulder popped out of socket with the strength of the beast’s flight. Wind screamed past her face and scratched her skin with its icy claws. Its hooves hammered over snow, the sound pounding in her bones. A cry burbled out of the creature’s throat. Something like a hound’s wail and a stallion’s roar. It was thrilled.

Ivy gripped the hilt of the sword and slammed it across the kelpie’s throat. But the blade came back dry. Again, she jabbed the point of the blade at its throat, and again it slid off without a scratch. What?

Under her own touch, the creature’s hide felt like a leech’s: tough, thick, and slippery. She cursed, raised the blade again, and sawed at the monster’s throat.

“Can you not kill it?” cried the man stuck to the other side.

“I can’t cut it! It’s like dragon’s hide!” Ivy raised her head. The beast was not even acting hurt. It’s lips were pulled back in a hound’s grin. Then she caught its eye. It had rolled back, watching her with a hollow, blue iris. From its throat came that same burbling howl. It was a smile, and a laugh.

It had tricked her.

It’s glee made something roil within her. Made her angry. It was laughing at her. What a silly little girl, it must think. To try and play hero.

She bared her own teeth. Her nose curled in a snarl. She felt something tingle under hand then, and the frost began to melt from its coat in the shape of her fingers. Then something bubbled under her hand. What was it doing?

“Do something! Do something, it’s going to drown us!” cried the man. Ahead lay the docks, and the frozen loche beyond.

She barely heard him. The creature made that same sound again. Howling. Laughing. Her brow set. She hated those grinning teeth.

She pulled the sword back, aimed, and drove it up and into its maw. Bone crunched and scratched against the blade. Blood like liquid seaweed spurted from the other side of its nose.

Then snow. Pain. A crack. Sky.

Ivy stared wide-eyed up at the clouds. The kelpie lurched a few feet away, the man still swinging from its neck. Green ooze poured over its tongue and down the top of its face. It made groans and grunts and clicks like a catfish as the sword fell out of its head.

The man reached for the blade as it fell, only to be jerked away as the horse got back to its feet.

Oh. Oh, its getting up. Ivy turned over and skidded on the snow. Her boots slipped as she reached for the sword, but the fae was already up. “Stop!” she roared. The hilt gathered in her hand, and she again smacked her hand to its haunch, but it did not stick.

“Kill it!” wailed the man. “Why didn’t you kill it!”

Ivy cast a hopeless slash at the beast’s hamstrings. The blade cracked against bone, but the edge could not sever the leech’s hide.

Her left arm, disjointed, flopped limp at her side as she ran. By the time she had taken two strides, it was already off over the hill.

The man screamed something. His eyes on hers.

Her boots still pounded in the snow as the kelpie touched the mud on the banks. She never stopped, but she watched the water take them. It took the horse’s face first, then its shoulders, and at last it closed over his head. Over his eyes which never left her.

“No!” her voice shook, this time with anger. She knew he was gone. In her heart she knew it, but her feet did not. They carried her to the water’s edge, where she watched the tail slip under the waves in a swirl of ice and murk.

Her chest heaved as she ground to a halt in the mud. Her arm swung like some dead thing as she did. It burned from the shoulder. Why? Why had she lived and the man had not? She tried to lift her hand, but it only jerked. She dropped the sword and lifted her left hand with the other. It felt hot, hot as a cook-stove, yet did not burn her own skin. Sea-smelling water popped and fizzed on her palm. Was it frost from the kelpie’s coat? Was this what it looked like when a kelpie let someone go?

She knelt and lifted her hand to the water. At once the water began to boil at her fingertips.

Was this a reaction from its coat? Was the slime causing the water to boil? She washed it off, then picked the sword from the muck. It was slick with green goo, but when she went to wash it, nothing happened. Was it only the slime of its coat?

Only when she stood did she notice two white eyes watching her from the murk, five feet down. Waves lapped over its face. She could see the trail of green blood which still streamed from its nose.

Ivy stood stock still. It stared at her. She stared back. It knew she couldn’t reach it.

She felt her lips part, cold as ice. “Don’t.” She raised the blade. The tip aimed squarely between the creature’s eyes. “Come.” Her face twisted as her lungs filled. “BACK!”

[kartsplateau23]

Is the Ha Giang Loop Dangerous? Safety tips guide

1. Is the Ha Giang Loop Dangerous?

When considering whether is the Ha Giang Loop dangerous? it’s important to recognize the unique challenges this route presents. The Ha Giang Loop is a breathtaking yet challenging route, attracting travelers for its rugged beauty and winding mountain roads. While the Loop offers unforgettable landscapes and rich cultural experiences, some sections of the road are narrow, steep, and have sharp turns, which can pose risks for inexperienced riders. Additionally, weather conditions in Ha Giang can be unpredictable, with fog and rain reducing visibility and making roads slippery. However, many travelers safely complete the Loop each year by taking proper precautions and being prepared.

2. Safety Tips for Riding the Ha Giang Loop

Choose the Right Bike: Opt for a bike that’s well-suited for mountainous terrain, ideally with strong brakes and reliable suspension. Test the bike before setting out to ensure it’s in good condition.

Wear Protective Gear: A helmet is essential, but also consider gloves, knee and elbow pads, and a jacket for extra protection. Good shoes with a grip are also recommended for stability.

Drive Carefully on Curves: Slow down on sharp turns, especially in unfamiliar areas or if visibility is low. Take extra care to stay in your lane, as some roads are narrow and shared with larger vehicles.

Check Weather Forecasts: Avoid riding in heavy rain or fog if possible. Bad weather can make the roads slick and visibility poor, so plan your trip around favorable conditions.

Stay Alert: Be mindful of potential road hazards, like loose gravel, potholes, or livestock crossing. Watch out for other vehicles, especially on curves and steep inclines.

Take Breaks: The Loop can be physically demanding. Schedule regular stops to rest and enjoy the scenery without rushing, reducing fatigue and staying sharp while riding.

Travel with a Companion or Group: If possible, join other riders. This not only adds to safety in case of emergencies but also provides support for navigation and other needs.

By following these safety tips, travelers can navigate the Ha Giang Loop with confidence and focus on enjoying the scenic views and unique experiences it offers. For more detailed travel advice on the Ha Giang Loop, visit Karst Plateau!

[travisdrivingschool]

"Mastering Austin’s Roads: Tips for Safely Navigating Pedestrians, Cyclists, and Scooters 🚶‍♀️🚴‍♂️🛴 | Travis Driving School"

Driving in Austin, Texas is an adventure—one that often involves sharing the road with pedestrians, cyclists, and electric scooter riders. At Travis Driving School, we know that these road users bring energy and diversity to the city, but they also require drivers to be extra alert and considerate. Here’s how to navigate Austin’s roads with confidence and respect for everyone out there! 🚗💚

1. Be Aware of Pedestrians Everywhere

Austin is full of vibrant neighborhoods like South Congress and Downtown, where pedestrians are constantly on the move. As a driver, always yield at crosswalks, slow down near bus stops, and be patient near busy areas like Zilker Park or around the University of Texas. It's not just about following the rules—it’s about making sure everyone gets to enjoy the city safely. 🌆

2. Respect Bike Lanes

Austin is a biking hotspot, with dedicated bike lanes running through the city. Give cyclists at least 3 feet of space when passing, and always check your blind spots before turning. It’s crucial to share the road and keep everyone safe, especially on popular biking routes like the Lance Armstrong Bikeway. 🚴‍♂️

At Travis Driving School, we teach our students to stay aware of cyclists and respect their space. It’s all about building a safer, more connected Austin! 🤝

3. Stay Alert Around Electric Scooters

Electric scooters have taken over Austin's streets, and you’ll often see them zipping through downtown or parked near East 6th Street. Riders can be unpredictable, so it’s important to slow down and give them space. Watch for scooters weaving through traffic or crossing into bike lanes, and always keep a lookout when turning or merging. 🛴

With drivers ed at Travis Driving School, we prepare new drivers for the unexpected—because driving in Austin means being ready for anything! 😄

4. Practice Defensive Driving

From heavy traffic to sudden stops, Austin's streets can be unpredictable. That’s why defensive driving is one of the most important skills to master. It’s all about being aware of what’s happening around you, from a pedestrian about to cross the street to a cyclist approaching an intersection. 🚦

Travis Driving School emphasizes defensive driving techniques in our courses, helping drivers stay cool under pressure and avoid accidents. The more you practice, the more confident you'll feel navigating the city’s roads.

Navigating Austin’s roads means learning to balance the needs of all its users. With a little patience and practice, you can become a driver who contributes to a safer and more enjoyable Austin for everyone. 🌟 Ready to master the road? Let Travis Driving School guide you through every step of the journey.

[motriders]

Upgrade Your Ride with Dynojet Parts in UK

Upgrade Your Ride with Dynojet Parts in the UK Greetings, motorbike fans! If you have any desire to take your ride to a more raised level, right now is the best open door to investigate Dynojet parts. Whether you're a seasoned or professional, Dynojet offers several serious updates that can deal with your motorbike's showcase and make each ride an all-around impact. How about we jump into what settles on Dynojet the go-to decision for riders across the UK? What is Dynojet? Priorities straight, we should separate what's going on with Dynojet. Established in the USA, Dynojet has turned into a central part of the presentation tuning world. They have practical experience in making excellent tuning items, including carburetor units, fuel the executive's systems, and scope of execution extras. Their objective? To assist you with crushing out all of the force your motorbike can offer. Furthermore, trust me, whenever you've updated with Dynojet, you'll feel the distinction out and about.

Why Upgrade? You may be asking yourself, "For what reason would it be advisable for me I waste time with overhauls?" Indeed, if you're hoping to upgrade your ride, help choke reaction, and further develop eco-friendliness, Dynojet parts are where it's at. Envision riding your motorbike and feeling that quick flood of force when you turn the choke. It’s like your motorbike just woke up! One rider from Birmingham said, “After adding Dynojet parts, my motorbike feels like a beast on the road!”

Plus, Dynojet’s tuning solutions can help your motorbike run smoother and more efficiently, which is a huge bonus for those long rides. Nobody needs to be stuck along the edge of the street, isn't that so? With Dynojet, you're getting yourself in a position for a superior, more pleasant riding experience.

Popular Dynojet Upgrades All in all, what precisely might you at any point get from Dynojet? How about we look at a portion of their most famous redesigns that are causing disturbances in the UK?

1.Power Commander: This little beauty is a game-changer. The Power Commander allows you to fine-tune your motorbike’s fuel delivery for optimal performance. Whether you’re adding aftermarket exhausts or filters, the Power Commander adjusts your motorbike’s settings to make sure you’re getting the best out of those upgrades.

2.Carburetor Kits: Assuming your motorbike runs on carbs, Dynojet has some executioner carb units to assist you with expanding execution. These units accompany all that you want to further develop choke reaction and in general power. You'll see a smoother ride and a better speed increase — ideal for those twisty dirt roads!

3.Quick Shifters: For those who love to ride fast, a Dynojet quick shifter is a must-have. It takes into account consistent stuff changes without the need to utilize the grip, giving you that race-enlivened feel out and about. "I introduced a speedy shifter from Dynojet, and it's made my rides a great deal more energizing!" shared a rider from Manchester.

DIY or Pro Installation? Presently, you may be contemplating whether you can handle these updates yourself or on the other hand on the off chance that you want a genius to finish the work. The uplifting news? Numerous Dynojet parts accompany point-by-point directions, so if you're a piece helpful with devices, you can try it out yourself. A cheeky rider from Leeds said, “I watched a couple of YouTube videos and had my Power Commander set up in no time!”

However, if you’re not feeling confident or just want to kick back and let the pros handle it, there are plenty of motorbike shops across the UK that can help you out. Just make sure you find a reputable place that knows their Dynojet stuff. Join the Dynojet Community At the point when you pick Dynojet, you're not simply updating your motorbike; you're joining a local area of energetic riders who love sharing tips and encounters. You'll find discussions, virtual entertainment gatherings, and nearby meet-ups where you can interface with other Dynojet fans. Everything without a doubt revolves around sharing the affection for riding and capitalizing on your machine!

Ready to Upgrade? In this way, assuming that you're prepared to take your ride to a higher level, now is the right time to consider Dynojet parts.

[fitjourneydaily]

Exploring the Thrills of Biking: Discover the Best Cycling Routes and Groups

Biking is not merely a means of transportation; it's an exhilarating adventure that allows you to immerse yourself in nature's beauty while experiencing the rush of adrenaline. Whether you're into mountain biking, road cycling, or seeking a group to join, this article will provide you with a comprehensive guide to discovering the best biking routes, cycling groups, and highlighting the benefits of this incredible sport. Cycling Routes for Adventure Enthusiasts: 1. Enchanted Forest Trail: Located in the heart of the majestic mountains, the Enchanted Forest Trail is a haven for mountain biking enthusiasts. With varying levels of difficulty, this route offers options for both beginners and seasoned riders. Feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you navigate through twists and turns, surrounded by stunning panoramic views of lush greenery. This trail is sure to test your skills while providing an unforgettable experience. 2. Coastal Cruise Route: For those seeking a more relaxed biking experience, the Coastal Cruise Route is a must-visit. As its name suggests, this route hugs the coastline, offering breathtaking views of the shimmering ocean waves. Enjoy the fresh sea breeze as you pedal along smooth paths, passing by charming coastal towns and hidden gems. Don't forget to capture some Instagram-worthy shots at picturesque lookout points along the way. 3. Challenging Mountain Pass Loop: Ready to take your road cycling journey to the next level? The Challenging Mountain Pass Loop is the ultimate test for endurance cyclists. This route takes you through winding mountain roads, with steep uphill climbs and thrilling descents. Marvel at the awe-inspiring vistas that unfold before your eyes, and don't forget to keep an eye out for local wildlife. Prepare for a physically demanding yet rewarding ride that will push your limits. Joining Cycling Groups: 1. Mountain Mavericks Trail Blazers: If you're passionate about mountain biking and want to connect with like-minded individuals who share your love for off-road adventures, the Mountain Mavericks Trail Blazers is the perfect cycling group for you. Join them for regular group rides, where experienced riders can provide valuable tips and tricks while exploring challenging terrains together. With the camaraderie and support of fellow bikers, enjoy the thrill of conquering new trails. 2. Road Warriors Cycling Club: For road cycling enthusiasts seeking a community to ride with, the Road Warriors Cycling Club is an ideal choice. This group organizes weekly rides of varying distances and intensities, catering to cyclists of all levels. From leisurely scenic rides to intense training sessions, members can challenge and motivate each other, fostering a spirit of camaraderie and shared passion for road cycling. Benefits of Biking: 1. Physical Fitness: Biking is an excellent way to stay fit and maintain a healthy lifestyle. It strengthens your cardiovascular system, burns calories, and improves muscle tone. Regular biking can boost your overall endurance and contribute to weight loss goals. Explore new routes, push your limits, and watch your fitness levels soar. 2. Mental Well-being: Engaging in biking activities releases endorphins, which are known as the "feel-good" hormones, promoting a positive mood and reducing stress. The tranquility of nature combined with the excitement of biking helps clear your mind and leaves you feeling refreshed and revitalized. Use biking as a form of therapy and let the worries of the world fade away. 3. Ecological Benefits: Choosing biking over motorized transportation reduces your carbon footprint and helps protect the environment. By pedaling your way through scenic routes, you actively contribute to preserving nature, reducing air pollution, and promoting sustainability. Embrace biking as a lifestyle choice that positively impacts both you and the world around you. Revitalize your diet with Puravive's Superfood Blend. Packed with essential nutrients, our blend is the perfect addition to your daily meals, supporting your diet and overall health. Experience the power of superfoods with Puravive. Check out the Puravive Superfood Blend Product Page. Read the full article

[rentnhop]

Couples Bike Rental Guide on Exploring Mumbai

Greetings to all the fellow travel couples. Looking to get a bike on rent in Mumbai and explore Mumbai together? You've come to the right place or I should say you’ve come to the right blog. As a bike renting provider, I've sent many romantic couples on weekends zipping around the city on our bike rental in Mumbai. Let me share my tips for the perfect Mumbai bike rental experience in Mumbai.

Ensure safety 

First things first - safety is sexy or a necessity. There’s no secret in saying that you should always wear helmets and drive cautiously. Mumbai traffic can be chaotic so defensive driving is a must. I am sure you’ve heard about Mumbai traffic many times if you are a resident of India. You’re going with your partner so make sure you're both comfortable operating your bike before heading out into the wild streets.

How to pick a ride 

Now for the fun part - how to pick your ride. Mumbai has awesome options for bike rental in Mumbai. You can find everything from gentle scooters to powerful motorbikes. I recommend starting with a scooter or low-powered motorcycle if you're new to riding in India. It'll be less intimidating while you get the hang of things. Retnnhop is one of the popular bike rental providers, go check out the website and you’ll see how easy it is to get a bike on rent in Mumbai. 

My favorite ride for couples is a retro Vespa-style scooter - so cute and romantic! But pick whatever puts the spark in your relationship. Just pay attention to size. Make sure you both fit comfortably. Nothing kills the romance like a sore backside. 

Plan out the day smartly 

When taking your bikes out, plan for an exciting but not overly ambitious day. Start with exploring calm neighborhoods and coastal roads to get your riding legs. Juhu Beach is a great option with gorgeous ocean views. Or head to hip Bandra with quirky art galleries and cafes.

As you get comfortable, ride down Marine Drive to see the Queen's Necklace sparkling along the shoreline. Or sample street food in bustling Colaba. Just avoid intensely congested areas until you've got some experience under your belt. Safety first.

Make sure to stop frequently to enjoy views, snap selfies, and simply enjoy being together. Part of the magic of bike rides is taking things slow. Let the day unfold organically rather than packing your schedule too tightly.

Pack some snacks and water to take with you. Hydration is key in Mumbai's heat and humidity. I also love surprising my partner with a thoughtful picnic - a great way to cap off a bike date. 

By evening you'll likely be ready to drop off your rental and put your sore bums to rest. But you'll have amazing memories of an offbeat Mumbai adventure.

Bonus tips on Mumbai travelling 

Want a few pro tips? First, take photos of your rental bikes just in case. And take the owners' contact details too. You never know when it might come in handy. 

I also recommend using bike-sharing apps like Bounce. Super convenient for finding rentals close by and unlocking your phone. No keys to keep track of. 

For long days out, look for rentals that offer unlimited km so you don't have to stress over meter readings. And don't skip the built-in locks - theft can be an issue. Oh, and one last thing - watch out for potholes! They can be bike tire killers.

Conclusion

That covers my best advice for an epic yet safe bike rental experience in Mumbai. The city really opens up on two wheels. You'll get to places tourists rarely reach. And create romantic memories that will last a lifetime.

Let me know if you have any other questions related to bike rental in Mumbai

 or how to travel in Mumbai.  Whether it's date ideas, route recommendations, or just encouragement as new riders, I'm here to help. Have a wonderful time zooming around Mumbai together. Ride safe and make every moment count. 

[offroadproco]

ADD LISTINGS

ADD LISTINGSLogin or Sign up Here Link To Social Shop Our Listings Offer Very Detailed Information Choices Simply Login To Communicate - Start a Group - Forum And Share - IT'S FREE! Utilize 'Social Shop' To Enable Conversations, Share Documents or Contracts, Talk Shop. Create A Group For Your Off Road Buddies And Share Tips, Pics, Vids, Information, Create A Forum or Group. Invite Fellow Riders. Share Videos, Images, Knowledge, And Documents. Link Your Listings To Your Social Shop Profile For Easy Discovery And Communication. Communicate However You Prefer, We Have This Covered From Instant Chat, Video Chat, To Email. OffRoadPro.co/members/RadicalRider Sign Up - Login Or Add Your Listings Here Watch This Quick Start Video Below To List And Maneuver This Site Like A Pro. Quick Start Tip:  Signup, Verify Your Email And Login First, Then You Can Create Your Profile As You Go Through The Video. Pause or Replay The Video As Needed. How To Search Listings 0 to 1:00 min. Communications Portal 1:00 to 5:57 min. Adding Effective Listings Properly Checkout Process And Invoices 5:57 to End Become An 'RADICAL RIDER' And Enjoy The Benefits For Your Achievements Achieve Listing Badges And Stand Out In The Directory Search Engine And Advanced Search  Upload  Documents In Your Listings   Titles - Warranty - Inspections - Etc.           We Automatically Drive Traffic To Your Listings With Our Powerful, Automatic Social Media Posting Tools As Soon As Your Listing Is Created. FACEBOOK,  PINTEREST, TWITTER,  INSTAGRAM, TUMBLR, REDDIT, FLICKR, LINKEDIN, BLOGGER, BLOGSPOT, IMGUR, INSTAPAPER, BLOG LOVIN', ARTICLES,  SOCIAL SHOP  AND MORE! CONTACT US HERE TO ADD YOUR COMPANY BANNER OR LINK The Site Will Only Publish Listings With  The Email Matching The Account.  1 Email = 1 Account If You Create  A Listing With Someone Else's Email, It Will Be Removed. (Cat Scratch Fever!) #catssofinstagram #petfashion #cataccessories #catproducts #pettoys Read the full article

[kittycatsco]

ADD LISTINGS

ADD LISTINGSLogin or Sign up Here Link To Social Shop Our Listings Offer Very Detailed Information Choices Simply Login To Communicate - Start a Group - Forum And Share - IT'S FREE! Utilize 'Social Shop' To Enable Conversations, Share Documents or Contracts, Talk Shop. Create A Group For Your Off Road Buddies And Share Tips, Pics, Vids, Information, Create A Forum or Group. Invite Fellow Riders. Share Videos, Images, Knowledge, And Documents. Link Your Listings To Your Social Shop Profile For Easy Discovery And Communication. Communicate However You Prefer, We Have This Covered From Instant Chat, Video Chat, To Email. OffRoadPro.co/members/RadicalRider Sign Up - Login Or Add Your Listings Here Watch This Quick Start Video Below To List And Maneuver This Site Like A Pro. Quick Start Tip:  Signup, Verify Your Email And Login First, Then You Can Create Your Profile As You Go Through The Video. Pause or Replay The Video As Needed. How To Search Listings 0 to 1:00 min. Communications Portal 1:00 to 5:57 min. Adding Effective Listings Properly Checkout Process And Invoices 5:57 to End Become An 'RADICAL RIDER' And Enjoy The Benefits For Your Achievements Achieve Listing Badges And Stand Out In The Directory Search Engine And Advanced Search  Upload  Documents In Your Listings   Titles - Warranty - Inspections - Etc.           We Automatically Drive Traffic To Your Listings With Our Powerful, Automatic Social Media Posting Tools As Soon As Your Listing Is Created. FACEBOOK,  PINTEREST, TWITTER,  INSTAGRAM, TUMBLR, REDDIT, FLICKR, LINKEDIN, BLOGGER, BLOGSPOT, IMGUR, INSTAPAPER, BLOG LOVIN', ARTICLES,  SOCIAL SHOP  AND MORE! CONTACT US HERE TO ADD YOUR COMPANY BANNER OR LINK The Site Will Only Publish Listings With  The Email Matching The Account.  1 Email = 1 Account If You Create  A Listing With Someone Else's Email, It Will Be Removed. (Cat Scratch Fever!) #catssofinstagram #petfashion #cataccessories #catproducts #pettoys Read the full article

[insanethrottlebikernews]

Watch Out for Riders: Tips on sharing the road

Watch Out for Riders: Tips on sharing the road

Get what’s happening in the scene Mon-Fri 8amcst on our Youtube Channel WAUSAU, WI (OnFocus) – According to the Wisconsin Department of Transportation, approximately 100 motorcyclists are killed and more than 2,500 are injured each year in Wisconsin traffic crashes. Last September, Wisconsin saw a total of 314 crashes resulting in 17 fatalities and 267 injuries. This weekend, drivers may…

[lordabovehelpme]

Pale Rider - Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: This is inspired by the song Pale Rider by the Heavy Horses. I completely recommend it! It literally is a song about Frank I kid you not. But yeah, please enjoy. Also tagging @peculiarpenman because they always inspire me to write more poetically. <3 I love you! 

Summary: There’s a man with no name who comes in the night, who sits in the same booth and orders the same black coffee. He reeks of violence and yet you feel safe, but you never break the silence. Until one night. Just make sure you don’t fall in love with the pale rider. 

Warnings: Afab! reader, SMUT (p in v), language, kissing, angst, some violence, panic attack, depression, but then back to fluff I promise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's a song that plays when you’re drying the clean glassware. There's a song that filters from the small speakers echoing through the empty booths and freshly mopped tiles.

There’s a song that becomes your only company when no one is in the small diner. There's a song that plays when there's no one but him.

He comes in the off hours, when the highway outside is bare and lonesome, when the other servers have left and it’s only you and the sleeping cook on the kitchen stool.

He pulls up in a black van, parks in the same spot, a little far from the entrance, but close enough he can watch it from his booth three shy from the door.

You know he’s passing through, he never stops for more than an hour. Ordering simple black coffee, no cream, no sugar, in the same mug with the chipped handle. The same booth, the same unreadable expression, the same scrunch to his nose with every sip.

You don’t know why he stops every few weeks. There's nights where he’s seemingly normal, hood pulled high over his head. But then there's nights where he’s covered in dirt and bruises and blood. You’d have to be pretty dumb to not notice the handgun tucked in his waistband.

He always leaves without a word, just a wad of cash that doubles the price of the coffee, and a simple nod towards you.

It’s enough to buy your silence and hush your pressing questions.

Until one night.

It’s a Friday night, a couple teenage couples share milkshakes while pressing up against one another. But they leave good tips so you don’t have the heart to imagine what's going on underneath the table.

There’s two guys that spare you no thought after you only politely smiled at their not very work friendly comments. Especially after you accidently spilled scalding coffee onto one of them. They grumble and order a breakfast meal while silently conversing with one another.

It’s late enough the regulars have gone home, the only customers being the ones the road brings in and maybe just maybe you’ll be able to use the mug with the chipped handle.

The bells chime above the door, a familiar sound making your head rise to find a familiar face.

A small smile unconsciously works onto your face as the hooded figure nods towards you and heads to the booth three from the door. You practically drop what you’re doing to get his chipped mug, stashed away in a safe space.

Grabbing the coffee pot your motions halt for a second. Questions ringing out through your head, asking why you’re so happy to see him, why he makes your heart flutter, why you feel so safe with him.

Shaking your head and shushing the little voice that echoes insecurities, you walk over to him.

He shrugs his hood off, brown eyes lifting to meet your own. Your breath leaves your chest at his gaze.

Eyes that are soft and warm and somewhat sorrowful. Eyes that have lived and seen and felt. Eyes that have fought and conquered and lost.

You smile and set the mug down, pouring the hot liquid into it.

“Freshly brewed.” Winking as you add, “just for you.”

His lips pull into a grin and you turn to walk away but then he utters, “Thank you ma’am.”

His voice thunders through your soul, shaking your bones and sending lightning through your veins. It sounds just how you thought it would, deep and timbre, yet gentle and as if scared he's too loud.

You’re not sure what noise leaves your lips, but it definitely wasn't human. Heat licks up your neck, thoughts running haywire as the corners of his eyes crinkle, amused at your response.

Simply nodding, you rush away, your voice failing you as your heart hammers.

Things go back to normal. The teenagers leave. Sticky strawberry milkshake left on the table, but at least they stacked the plates.

You can feel his eyes on you, watching as you wipe away crumbs. Gazing as you sweep the floor. Studying as you flash a smile his way before vanishing behind the swinging doors to the kitchen.

“Some dishes.” You alert on reflex, but fall quiet when you remember you're by yourself. 

The older cook left about an hour ago, after you repeatedly told him you have everything under control and that his wife must miss him, plus it would be best if he slept in his bed rather than on the stool.

It’s the same fight every night. He hates to leave you even as you usher him to his truck. He reminds you of the pistol underneath the register and you smile and hug him. He always looks at you with wisdom and a hand on your shoulder, “Be safe mija.”

There’s a bang from the diner like someone hit a table and then voices start speaking. Your back straightens and you rush towards the swinging doors.

One of the men from before is approaching your hooded figure. Your heart drops. Your eyes scan towards the gun beneath the counter. He reaches into his jacket pocket, your feet start to move to the counter. He starts to pull out-

An arm wraps around your waist, a hand thrown over your mouth before you can scream. You frantically fight his hold, turning in his arms as much as you can. Throwing your weight side to side in any attempt to be freed.

He marches you through the swinging doors and the hooded man's eyes meet your own, fear washing over them like ice water before snapping back to his cold calculating stare.

Tears start to build as you notice the gun being shoved towards him. You fight against the hold again, no’s muffled and desperate as you try and plead.

A hand slaps across your face, a ring biting into your skin and bursting your eyebrow.

“Be quiet bitch.”

Everything stops. No one moves.

And then it all happens at once.

A shot is fired, the hooded man strikes, the hands around you tighten and then fall away.

You stumble forward, blinking away tears, and suddenly you're in another pair of arms.

Instinstics run wild, you start fighting and shoving and “hey hey it’s me sweetheart.”

Relief crashes over you as you recognize the black cotton before you, the spicy deodorant, the large hands rubbing up and down your back.

You look up and are met with the most beautiful brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

His thumb traces the edge of your jaw, running up by your ear, and wiping the blood away from your eyebrow.

Silently, you nod, transfixed on being so close to him; your nerves still trying to figure out what happened and where you are.

“Yeah? You got a first aid kit?”

He lets you lead him slowly towards the bathroom. Lets you fist the cotton of his shirt as you look down to the two men. Lets you scan his face as you try and gauge what he is while he wipes his hands of blood.

You let him wash and bandage the cut on your eyebrow. Let him hold your thighs as his eyes dance over your features. Let him wordlessly care for you.

“Are you okay?” He repeats, this time not willing to take silent nods for an answer.

What is he? Why were these men after him? Is he dangerous? Are you in danger?

You know you should shy away, should flee from his hold, should escape while you can. But you can’t stop seeing the look of fear in his eyes when he saw you.

He holds you with such tender care, tough and worn skin now gentle and soft. His eyes gaze into your own, searching for something… anything.

That terrified look that he flashed your way is enough to tell you he’s okay. Enough to tell you he can be trusted. Enough to tell you that he’s human.

“I’m… I’m okay… are you?”

His eyes shift away, his tongue darts out to wet the corner of his mouth, “Yeah,” his right hand flexes on your thigh, “I’ve seen worse.” It’s softer, almost like he wasn’t expecting you to ask.

You reach out and press your right hand against his cheek, it looks miniature holding his head.

He’s strong. He’s powerful. He’s safe.

An intense want… need washes over you, like big swells crashing along the sandy shore, abrupt and deafening.

Maybe it’s the frazzled ends of your nerves, the frightened and heightened aire to your movements. Or maybe it’s the fact you’ve imagined this very scenario a thousand times before.  

Your lips collide to his, like magnets being pulled to one another.

There’s a half second, an hour long half second where he does nothing. Silent and still and stoic. A half second that's long enough for the insecurities to bubble up, the thoughts to start ringing like tsunami sirens.

What are you doing? You forced yourself on him. He doesn’t even like you. No one does.

A strong hand cups the back of your head and he breathes into you, lips melding to your own.

His nose smashes against your cheek, his lips smear across your mouth, his breath seals away the little voice. Thoughts washing from your mind as it’s flooded with him and only him.

“Do-” your breathing is loud in your ears, your eyes stay shut, your hands can’t leave his form, “do you want to come back to my place?”

***

Sheets crumple at the base of your bed, clothes strewn across the room, the black van parked in your driveway.

It’s overwhelming. He fills your senses, fuels the fire raging throughout your veins.

His fingers dance over your skin, pushing and pulling at your flesh. His lips map out every curve and blemish on your body, teeth scraping as his breath fans across you. His dick slides in and out, punching something vital inside you, something that makes you curl up and scream out.

Your voice sounds small in your ears, begging and whining and gone dumb for him. Your fingers dig into his flesh, your legs wrapping around his hips and pushing your heels into the strength of his butt. You want him closer, want him to put all his weight on you, want him to crush you beneath him.

He grabs your chin, holding it firm and gentle. His eyes stare into your own, commanding you to look at him, to give yourself to him. It’s intimate and suddenly a different type of overwhelming… something allconsuming.

You know it strikes him too because those deep eyes soften, looking far into your soul, searching for something you’re unsure of. Then they shift down to your mouth, lips parted and coated in him, claimed by him.

His forehead touches yours and he stops.

It’s still.

A calm in the raging waves. The center of a pond's ripple. The hush of a single falling raindrop.

He breathes in as you breathe out, surrounding himself in you, tying an invisible knot between your souls.

Then his hips move again. Knocking a gasp from your lips.

He leans down, lips pressing against yours no longer in a fierce hot-blooded need, but rather a gentle and almost loving caress. A kiss that slows everything down, coats your movements in molten honey, makes your heart bloom with warmth. A kiss that tells of passion, intimacy, and something akin to love.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, his nose nudges into your neck.

Flames build within your heart, his voice calls your name.

Ecstasy floods your nerves, his lips press against your own.

Just like that sweetheart. There you go. Come for me. Sing for me.

All for me. Just for me. Only for me.

***

It’s comfortable and safe.

His fingers drift across your shoulder, soft and not fully there. He’s lost behind his thoughts, mind somewhere else.

You’ve melted into him, back pressed against his naked chest. Your heart beats strong, still calming down and somehow you know it never fully will. Your own gaze misted and taken by thought.

You take his free hand into your own, turning it over and tracing the lines along his palm, scratching at the permanent scars on his knuckles.

His breath hitches, quiet and barely noticeable. It’s intimate and soft and makes you wonder if you stepped too far.

But you’ve already gone this far. 

Laid yourself bare for him. Cracked open your ribs one by one and let him prod at your heart. Torn the muscle out and gave the pulsing pieces to him as a gift, an offering.

All for him. Just for him. Only for him.

You tilt back, head leaning against him so your eyes can find his features, find his eyes already on yours.

There’s something startling in the way he looks at you. 

Skin scared and telling tales of pain, a strong nose that's been broken multiple times, sharp jawline growing dark scruff. His cheeks are dusted with a light pink, his heart beating strong behind your back, deep brown eyes that seem to look into your soul.

They speak silent words, words that you're unable to translate, words that mean millions to him.

His eyebrows furrow, only slightly. You’re learning that little tells weigh heavily into reading his thoughts.

Those brown eyes leave your own, trailing down your form to where you still have his hand, large and strong and worn in your hold. After a second, his thumb moves, featherlight and almost afraid as he traces your fingers. His eyes cloud over, lost again to thought.

Neither of you speak, too scared to break the silent spell.

You stay like that for what seems like both years and seconds.

All too soon and too delayed, he leans over and turns the light on your nightstand off, a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

You fall asleep like that, pressed against the chest of the man with no name.

Safely secured between the thighs of the man with no name.

Hands still wrapped around the big paws of the man with no name.

***

The next morning the only trace of him, the only evidence besides the memories is the note with scrawled letters left beneath the light next to the sweating water glass.

Stay safe Sweetheart. - F

***

You tried to not think of him. Tried to forget the stab in your chest when you woke up alone.

But the thought of him, the memory of his lips trailing up your spine, his hands tugging your ass, the hushed praise, it echoes through your head.

Gnaws away at your will power.

A fierce hunger that feasts at your soul.

You’re not sure why you’re so hurt about it. Not sure what you were expecting or wanting from him. It’s the classic one night stand leave before they wake up. So why are you disappointed? Why did you expect more? Why did you so easily give yourself to him?

Why do you desperately want more?

***

You’re softly humming along to the radio when the cook turns the television on to the news. Voices flow through the small diner about the weather and then the voices turn more hurried.

“... multiple gangs being hunted down by precise and strategic hits. Many of us are wondering just what army or gang could be doing this, but the answer is not whom but rather who.”

You set the broom to the side and frantically reach for the TV remote, the voices growing louder and lighting up the walls from where it sits in the corner. Pictures flash across the screen, some blurred, some not.

A gasp leaves your mouth.

“That’s right, this is being done by one man. Is the ghost of the Punisher back to torment us all once again?”

A fuzzy picture of a hooded man overtakes the screen and your eyes widen, the remote falls from your grasp.

It’s him.

It has to be him.

Suddenly the dots connect, the scars, the gun… the men.

He was on a mission.

You were just a simple stop along the way.

“Mija… you okay?” The cook asks in his heavy Spanish accent, worry overtaking his aging face.

Looking at him, your head nods but no words can leave your mouth.

Your heart already shattered on the floor.

A red and orange map pops up, showing pins as to how far he has covered the country. The story continues, detailing his committed crimes.

The TV goes dark, forgotten remote in the cook's hand as his eyes scan over your frame.

“No more mija.”

He nods and trails back to the kitchen, black doors swaying after his departure, the radio soon turned back to the normal channel.

Familiar lyrics flood the diner, never ringing truer than now.

Ride to town, shoot 'em up, and keep on going. Cause I got a job to do and I don't stop for no one.

***

Days pass and each time the bells chime above the door your breathing stops, waiting for that hooded figure to walk through, but he never does.

You know it shouldn’t, but your heart drops in disappointment. He became part of your routine, you expected to see him, kept his mug tucked away for when he did show up.

A flickering hope that he might be on your doorstep when you return home each night.

An even smaller want for him to return to your sheets and touch you like he did, full of desire and as if the night would never end.

Maybe it’s for the best, he is dangerous after all. Best to get him out of your head. Yet even as hard as you try, you can’t break free of the invisible knot. Each attempt at running only tightens the link, let’s it dig harder into your soul. 

A constant ache that mercilessly reminds you of what once was. 

Rumors spread through the local town, it’s small and overly friendly, word traveling as easily as sickness. His name is whispered through lips, as if scared he’ll appear if they speak it too loud.

“Did you hear he killed over the Mexican border?”

“It’s one more killing to the man that has no name.”

“I think he’s doing good, wiping the land of those gangstas that think they're all that and a bag of chips.”

“He’s unforgiving.”

“It’s one more bullet to the man that has no name.”

“Who says he won’t come here and clean us away?”

“Jerry, is there something you’re trying to tell us?”

“I’m just one more life, for him it’s all the same.”

“Just get your gun, and kiss your wife, and lock up your daughter.”

“Yeah… don’t let her fall in love with the Punisher.”

***

You’ve watched the news, listened to the customers, ears perking for anything related to him. Something inside you wants to know he’s okay, but something else wants to make sure he’s far away.

You can’t deny the hurt you felt the morning after, the stabbing force that still throbs. The tears you shed and wipe away.

What would you even do if he showed up? Flee? You’d probably not make it that far to be honest. Question him? Yeah, as if he’d answer. Kiss him? What the fuck?  

Shaking your head you clear the plates on the table, grabbing the few dollar bills left on the table for you. It’s not much, not nearly as much as he would always leave. You’ve had to cut back on spending a little bit.

Your heart tugs at the mention of him. The invisible knot tightening and starting to choke.

Late nights are filled with scavenging for anything related to him.

Court cases, police reports, mugshots pop up with seemingly no end. Your breath lodges in your throat as your eyes scan headlines, eyes tracing the features of your hooded man.

You watch videos, conflicted between anger and sorrow. You learn his story, the warrior he was, the father, the villain, and finally… the ghost.

Minutes turn into hours and into sleepless nights as you ponder, wondering why he chose this path, why he chose you, why he left. 

His scrawled handwriting untouched on your nightstand all these days past.

***

Everyone knows he’s alive. A dash cam of him sliding over a car's hood playing across all channels.

You knew first. Heart rigged to him like an addict to a drug. Any small piece of knowledge to fuel the insatiable desire.

He looks the same. You don’t know if you’re happy, angry, or repulsed.

Your fingertips run along the hem of your dress. The man across the candlelit table passionately talks about his business and the next big thing in the stock market. You were interested in the first five minutes, but thirty more and you’ve tuned out.

Smiling when prompted, you sip at your wine, wishing it was something stronger. Your eyes run along the man's face, watching as his eyebrows raise with every hard syllable. 

His didn’t. 

What no, stop, you’re not here for him. You’re here to forget.

“So tell me, what tickles your fancy sweetheart?”

It doesn’t sound right from his lips.

***

One little date turns into a few and suddenly you have a boyfriend.

Part of you knows it is wrong. Selfish and cruel to lead him on and let him be a sad replacement for your hooded figure.

But he takes you out for dinner each week and lets your heart be distracted from the booth three shy from the door, lets your eyes drift away from the road in search of a black van.

He visits the diner, ironed work clothes wrinkled from a hard day's work sitting in a chair and talking about golf. A chaste kiss to your lips and a harsh pat to your butt. 

It makes your stomach churn. But the sight of the mug with the chipped handle reminds you that it could be worse.

Stay safe sweetheart. - F now crumpled and thrown from your nightdesk. 

Rejected like garbage in an irate rage as you screamed into your pillow, mascara painted along your cheeks like a Monet. Your voice horse from cursing him and then softly pleading with the universe and finally just quietly sobbing, alone. 

The wrinkled paper mocking you from the corner, rejected just as you were.

“How about a beer for your man sweetheart?”

It’s vile and repulsive and completely wrong.

But the disgust covers the loneliness.

***

Days start to melt together. The Punisher no longer in the forefront of the news, his story old and no longer the talk of the century. Merely a story told to children to frighten them out of sneaking candy in the night.

The disgust washes away into annoyance.

It builds. Slow but steady, each time you’re called the hated nickname is like another drop to the ever filling bucket.

“My girl.” Drip.

“Darling.” Drip.

“Sweetheart.” Drip drip drip.

The flow you once had to your motions now muddled and thick. You used to always have a smile, but now you can hardly fake one. The cook watches with concern as you slowly clean the diner. He offers you toothy smiles but you can’t return them.

“Fuck, I need a beer, long day today.” Your boyfriend sits down in the booth three from the door.

He can’t sit there.

That’s not his spot.

“C’mon sweetheart, chop chop.”

No.

Don’t call me that.

You can’t call me that.

I’m not your sweetheart.

“Sweetheart?”

No.

You can’t breathe.

Stop.

You can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t fucking move.

Get out.

Get out.

Sirens ring in your head loud and piercing and overwhelming.

Get out.

Get out.

“Get out.” It’s a whisper.

“Get out.” It’s a yell.

“Get out!” It’s a command.

His eyes are wide, startled, “What do you mean sweetheart?”

“Don’t fucking call me that! Get out!” You point at the door, you’re yelling and screaming, and you still can’t breathe. Sucking in air and yet it does nothing to give you oxygen.

“Get out! Get out of here! Get out of town! Get out of my life!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t understa-”

“I’m not your sweetheart! I never was!”

He leaves the booth three shy from the door, his gray convertible leaving the parking lot, the radio soft in the background.

Your chest heaves, finally able to suck in air.

Tears stream down your face, the bucket tipped over and empty.

The crumpled note rests in the strength of your palm, clenched safely between your fingers.

The cook brings you into his arms, holding you for as long as you need while you shake and sob.

“Go home mija.”

Don’t let your daughter fall in love with the pale rider.

***

Weeks pass, you feel better.

Things go back to how they were. Before your boyfriend, who you haven't seen since.

The regulars compliment you on your refound smile, happy to have you back in high spirits. It fills a void in you.

The teenagers with their sticky milkshakes and shared fries. The old men who talk about their day back on the farms. The old ladies who gossip and try to set you up with their grandsons even though they know your heart belongs to someone else. The cook goes back to sleeping at his stool.

The note, now wrinkled and worn, rests back on your nightdesk. Where each night you trace the letters and try to remember his voice in your head.

It’s the last part of him you have and you wish had thrown it out. You know it’s the final thing holding you back. Like a recovering smoker with the last cigarette in their breast pocket. A sick reminder of what pleasure once was, what happiness felt like.

But now you can’t. Emotionally attached and still holding onto the sliver of hope. Maybe you were enough. Maybe your memory could entice him back. Maybe he feels what you do.

The invisible knot which once choked and suffocated now a craving, a part of you.

The booth three shy from the door empty in waiting, the black van nowhere in sight, the chipped mug set aside and untouched.

Until one day.

Sunny and bright, with a fresh breeze in the air. Your skirt flutters beneath your apron, your smile a little wider, your heart expecting for something you’re unsure of.

The bells above the door chime.

Your heart stops.

“Hey sweetheart.”

You’re wrapped into a safe embrace.

Don’t let your daughter fall in love with the pale rider.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you all liked this one! I’m super duper proud of it so please let me know! Seriously, I love hearing what you all have to say or think!  

As always, 

Love, Lordy :) 

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[queenxxxsupreme]

Trouble Arises (dad!Arthur Morgan x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little bit of dad!Arthur for Father’s Day! 

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none, fluffy dad!Arthur, protective dad!Arthur

Summary: While out with you and Daisy, Arthur runs into some trouble. 

***

“Looky at this one!” Daisy tugged on a dress that was on a shop rack. 

“I like the bow on that one.” You told her, eyes flickering over the dress. It was periwinkle with numerous ruffles on the skirt and an adorable bow at the waist. 

Your husband was trailing quietly behind you, admiring the bright look in Daisy’s eyes as she went from dress to dress. It wasn’t often that the three of you ventured into town together, let alone that she was able to pick out her very own dress. So he made sure to enjoy every moment.

“Daddy! Look at this!” She stopped at a pink and white dress.

“That’s real pretty, ain’t it sweetpea?” Arthur looked at the dress. “Almost matches those shoes Papa got for you a while back, don’t they?”

“Yeah! The ones with the white bow.” Daisy nodded her head. 

“Is that the one you wanna get?” He asked her, but the young girl was already moving on to another dress.

Arthur watched her look at the dress excitedly, bouncing a little where she stood when the excitement became too much to contain. 

“You okay, Arthur?” You placed your hand on his arm.

“Yeah, just fine.” He gave you a smile. “How long you think it’s gonna take her to find a dress?”

“Do you want to be home at any specific time?”

“No, no. There’s no rush. Just curious.” He shook his head. “Let her take all the time she wants. She’s really happy, ain’t she?”

“She is.” You squeezed his arm and leaned in to kiss his shoulder before moving to be closer to Daisy. 

Arthur started to follow you. 

A familiar feeling began to creep up his spine. It was the same feeling that he could remember having all those years ago when he was a wanted man. Someone was watching him. 

He came to a stop, allowing you and Daisy to walk ahead of him, and looked around. 

Outside of the front shop windows, Arthur spotted someone looking in. They cupped their hands around their eyes and peered in through the glass. They were trying to find someone and seeing as Arthur and his family were the only ones in the store aside from an elderly couple, Arthur had a sinking feeling in his gut that the person outside was looking for him. 

He quickly stepped behind a support beam that held the ceiling up. His eyes darted over to you. You were unaware of what was happening, brushing your fingers over the sleeve of a dress Daisy had stopped to admire. 

But a sharp whistle caught your attention. It was instinctive for you to react to that whistle. It was his form of nonverbal communication back when you were running with the Van Der Linde Gang. 

Your eyes instantly caught his. He tilted his head just slightly, motioning for you to come to him. 

Though he hadn’t said anything else, the mannerisms made your stomach churn. Why hadn’t he said your name? Why was he hiding behind a column? 

“Daisy? Let’s go over to daddy.” You suggested, placing your hand between her shoulders. 

As you reached him, he took your hand and pulled you so that you stood behind the column too. Daisy was placed strategically between you both. 

“Daddy, there’s a dress-,”

“Sweetpea, I know you wanna look at dresses right now but there’s something real important that I’ve gotta discuss with momma, okay?” He looked down at her, brushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear. 

She nodded her head.

“There’s a couple of fellas outside.” Arthur lowered his voice as his eyes found yours. “Look over my shoulder around the beam behind me. “They’ve been looking in like they’re searchin’ for someone.”

You looked towards the window like he suggested and spotted the two men. They leaned in towards each other and then one looked back towards the window before the other looked towards the front door. 

“Do you think they’re any trouble?”

“I don’t know.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.

“Then there’s no need to panic just yet.” You put your hand on his arm. 

His eyes stayed on yours, a furrow nestled between his brows. He didn’t share the same thoughts as you. 

“We don’t want to upset Daisy.” You reminded him, looking down at her. His gaze followed yours. She was on her tip toes looking at a snowglobe that rested on the table next to the column. 

“You’re right.” Arthur sighed out, rubbing his eyes. 

“Everything will be okay.” You kissed his cheek and rubbed his arm. “Daisy? Why don’t you tell daddy about the dress you want?”

“Okay! This way, daddy!” Daisy turned and took off across the store.

Arthur smiled as he watched her weave in and out of the racks. 

“She’s very excited to pick out her own dress.” You told Arthur. 

“I know. Talked about it the whole way here.” He chuckled softly. He turned his head to check the window. The two men were still there.

“You know, I can go out there and distract them while you take Daisy out the back.” You took Arthur’s hand in your own and began to walk with him towards Daisy.

“I don’t want you to have to do that, Y/N.” 

“But if it’s what gets you both out of here safe, then I don’t mind it.”

“You think you’re any good at distractions?” His tone was teasing as he squeezed your hand. 

“Oh, I like to think I am.” You leaned against him a bit. “Back in the day, I used to distract this really fine young man. I did it so well one time that he nearly got run over by his own horse.”

Arthur laughed, putting his arm around your shoulders. 

“Hosea still won’t let me forget about that.”

“Good. It was rather foolish of you to be watching me instead of your horse.”

“I can list a whole bunch of foolish things I’ve done ‘cause of you.” He hummed quietly, pulling you closer to him. “But I wouldn’t change any of them.”

“You’re a charmer even after all these years. You know that?”

The bell on the front door to the shop rung, causing both you and Arthur to look in that direction. The two men that had been looking in were now inside of the shop. 

Arthur put his hand on the small of your back and began to rush you towards Daisy.

“Take her out the back.”

“What about you-,”

“Don’t worry about me-,”

“You can’t just tell me that!” You whispered loudly. 

“Hey, sweetpea?” Arthur put his finger over his lips, signalling for her to be quiet as he approached. He knew she would excitedly begin to tell him about the dress she wanted, but now wasn’t the time for that.

“What, daddy?”

“Mommy’s got to take you home.”

“What? Why?” She crinkled her brows together. “What about my dress?”

“Don’t worry about the dress, love.” You took her hand and began to tug her towards the back door. “We have to go–,”

“But momma–,”

“Daisy Jane.” Arthur knelt down to her level. “Look at me, sweetpea.”

Daisy met his eyes, her mouth pulled down in a frown. 

“It’s real important that you listen to momma, okay? She’s gonna take you home where it’s safe. It’s not safe here right now. I love you, you know that?” He kissed her forehead. 

“Daddy–,”

“I love you, Daisy.” He repeated, standing up to face you. 

Your eyes were glossed with tears. 

“No tears, pumpkin.” He murmured. He leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you.” 

You took Daisy’s hand and began to lead her towards the back door. You needed to get her somewhere safe. 

“Momma, why isn’t daddy comin’ with us?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer her. 

“It’s alright, love. He’ll be with us soon.”

***

You placed nervously on the porch. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains. It had been a few hours since you got home and the anxiety in your stomach was becoming almost too much to handle. 

You had thought about going over to Charles and Lucy’s house and maybe having Charles go to town and see what had happened, or even having them watch Daisy while you went into town alone. 

Daisy was inside playing with her dolls. Hosea was inside with her. Carson was laying on the porch, big brown eyes watching you. 

You were just about to turn to go into the house and get Daisy when you heard hooves beating against the dirt road. 

Carson lifted his head, ears perked as he listened. 

You looked down the driveway, one hand gripping the railing. 

The faint outline of a horse and rider came into view. It wasn’t until a few moments later when you could make out the rider that you felt you could finally breathe. 

Arthur was finally home. And he was safe. 

You sat down on the porch steps, realizing then how achy your legs were. You hadn’t had time to sit down since you returned home with Daisy. You didn’t want to sit down. You physically couldn’t bring yourself to sit. The anxiety of thinking about what could have happened to your husband was too much. 

Carson ran out to the barn to greet Arthur. The dog followed alongside him as he made his way towards the house. 

You wanted to ask him what happened, to know if those men were lawmen or just trouble. But when you tried to talk, your voice became stuck in your throat and tears sprung out of nowhere. 

Silently, he sat down next to you and put an arm around you. You didn’t notice the paper bag he placed on to the steps. 

“I know…. I know it was scary.” He kissed the side of your head. “But I’m proud of you. You did real good, you know. We haven’t had to do something like that in years. You did good, pumpkin.”

“I-I thought you were…. I was so scared, Arthur. I didn’t want to have to raise her by myself.” You turned to put your face into his neck. 

“I know. But I wouldn’t let that happen.” He kissed your head once more. 

The front door opened and Daisy ran out with her arms wide open. 

“Daddy!”

“Sweetpea!” He caught her, pulling her around into his lap. 

“You were gone! Why were you gone for so long?” She frowned up at him. 

“Oh, cause I was hidin’ from ya.”

“Daddy!” She crinkled her nose. Daisy looked over at you, taking note of your teary eyes. “Why are you crying?” 

She reached out to wipe your cheek off. 

“Cause I’m really happy daddy is back. I missed him.” You smiled. 

“I missed him too.” Daisy tucked her head into his neck. Arthur kissed her hair and squeezed her a little. 

“Don’t you worry, girls. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He assured you both. “Sweetpea, I got a little present for you.”

“A present?” She pulled away from him, looking around to see where her present could be. 

“I know momma and I told you that you could pick out your own dress, but- Well, things happened and that didn’t happen.” He picked up the bag and handed it to her. “Take a look inside and let me know if you like it.”

Daisy excitedly dug her hand into the bag and pulled out the pink and white dress she had been looking at. She squealed in delight and threw her arm around Arthur.

“Thank you, daddy! Thank you!”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetpea.” He kissed the side of her head. 

“I wanna try it on!”

“I’ll be in in just a moment to help you put it on, Daisy.” You told her. 

She scrambled to get off of Arthur’s lap and then ran into the house. 

Arthur watched her disappear through the door. 

“You think she’s upset about not being able to pick out her own dress?” He asked quietly. “I mean, I did tell her she’d be able to pick her own out.”

“Does she look upset, Arthur?” You reached out to cup his cheek. “She’s too young to understand why we had to leave the shop so soon. She wouldn’t understand even if we tried to explain it to her. All she knows is daddy brought her home a new dress and from the looks of it, Arthur, she really likes it.”

“Yeah, I reckon.” He ran a hand over his hair. 

You leaned over to kiss his cheek before standing up. 

“I promise you she’s perfectly happy.”

Arthur watched you walk through the front door of the house, leaving him on the porch. 

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday  @micahs-bird

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST

Two days. Two long, hot days you’ve been tied to this damn tree. Your mother would be turning in her grave over how easily you’ve gotten yourself caught by the O’Driscolls, even when you knew that they were notorious for prowling the roads leading in and out of towns. Craning your head you look up through squinted eyes to look at the sky through scattered branches, calm and clear, painted a beautiful gradient of orange, red and pink as the sun begins to set. Almost three days now and you’ve had nothing to eat or drink, something that’s starting to take its toll on your body and mind. Your head pounds incessantly and your stomach growls weakly, making you twist in discomfort. The bite of the ropes around your wrists soon stops the movement though and you wince at the sharp, stinging pain left in their wake. At this point all you truly beg for is death, and maybe this time you’ll get what you ask for.

You glare at the returning party as they whoop and holler about their catch, turning their horses in circles in excitement while you stare wantonly at the deer they have. They catch you, of course, and one is quick to dismount and get right up in your face about it. “Got a problem, girl?” He’s a mean man that reeks of sweat and bad tobacco, the scent so sour you recoil as far away from him as your punished body, and the tight bindings, will allow you. “I’m starving!” You hiss, but it’s pitiful and he laughs. “Too bad. Ain't enough to go around.” “Liar! That’s a whole damn deer you got there! Please, I’m starving! I jus’ need a little!” Your hunger makes you desperate and he knows that. The grin he gives you is dirty and makes your skin crawl, twisting your body to try and get out of his reach. It’s futile, and soon dirt-smeared hands are roughly grabbing at your waist to pull you back in front of him. “Y’hear that boys?” He calls out to the others, laughing as they whistle while hitching the horses, “little thing is starving! Tell me girl, whatcha willing to do to get a meal, huh?” You turn your head away as he leans in close, fighting the urge to wretch. The feel of his hands sliding down to your backside, the heat of his breath tickling your ear and cheek, makes you want to vomit. “C’mon now,” he coos at you, “dont’cha want to eat? All I ask for is a kiss!” Despite his forceful coaxing and your limited range of movement you continue, by some miracle, to evade his crusted, cracked lips. Then, all hell breaks loose. All at once there’s the thundering of horses hooves on the dry dirt, bullets screaming through the humid air, warm splatter on your face. A hole right through your would-be rapists head, his wide eyes mirroring yours before he falls down at your feet, lifeless. You stand, rooted to the spot just as the tree firmly pressed against your back is as the others scramble to form some sort of meager defiance, but they’re no match. It doesn’t take long. Like fish in a barrel. The O’Driscolls barely had time to reach for their pistols before they, too, were gunned down. The horses, spooked, whine and stomp from where they’ve been hitched and you’re glad that they’re not hurt. One of the riders seems so too as he gets down from his own mount to inspect them. His figure is hazy from the dust but you can tell he’s tall and strong and attractive. You’re sure that he’s talking, too, but you can’t hear him. The ringing in your ears is too loud. Gunshots. Blood pumping. Adrenaline. You hazard another look down at your feet, the man's lifeless body draining out before you. His blood stains your shoes. You spit on his back. Good riddance. “Hey! Are you okay?” The voice, suddenly clear, startles you and you quickly flick wide eyes to another man approaching you. The second rider? He’s well dressed and attractive too, but you’re not about to swoon at his feet. “Get back!” You shriek, fear spiking. He stops, startled, while quickly holding his hands up in surrender. “Easy there, amiga, I won’t hurt you,” he states slowly. You don’t believe a word of it. Instead you try, in vain, to pull your hands free from the ropes so you can flee. He sees this and hurries over to you, cursing under his breath at the wounds you’re inflicting on yourself in your haste. You don’t care. You try to fight him; kick him, elbow him, even snapping your teeth at him in a bite that doesn’t quite reach. You don’t trust him. You can’t trust him. Pressure releases from around your wrists and you stumble sideways, suddenly free, the ropes cut by an intricately decorated and expensive-looking knife that somehow manages to miss your flesh. Now you’ve fallen onto the ground face to face with the dead man with a bullet hole through his head, the force of your struggling having caused your fall down. Ignoring the stinging, open burns to your wrists you quickly scramble to your feet. Hair stringy with stale sweat and fresh blood, clothes smeared and ruined, delirious with heat and adrenaline, you still try to run. Hands firmly planting themselves on your arms stop you before you’ve even started and you yell out, wanting to pull away but your body doesn’t respond properly. Short, jerky movements but nothing that actually helps. White hot panic floods your empty stomach as you realize you’re too weak and that the adrenaline isn’t enough anymore. You suck in a deep breath, eyes beginning to sting despite your best intentions. You will yourself not to cry in front of the quiet man before you, but again you fail. You whimper, trying desperately in vain to wriggle free. You babble pitifully, incoherently, with a quivering lip and glossy eyes; childish. But his dark eyes are kind, even after what he’s done, and he slowly lets you go, only to catch you when you stumble forward. “You’ve been out here too long,” he mutters, voice low and comforting, “heat, starvation, you’re weak. Come on.” He gently guides you to his horse, much to his partners annoyance. “Charles, what are you doing? We can’t take her with us!” He argues. “Can’t leave her, either,” Charles counters as he heaves you onto the saddle where you clutch at the saddle horn for dear life. The two men then lead the hitched horses, consolation prizes for the few minutes of trouble, as well as take the deer that had been caught. “Or do you want her death on your conscience, Javier?” Charles grunts as he tightens knots and secures ropes, eyeing his partner expectantly when he’s met with silence. The well dressed man, Javier, grumbles something you can’t hear and mounts his own horse, Charles following suit, coming to sit in the saddle behind you. “Didn’t think so,” he chuckles, low and smooth, and you lower your head to stare at the saddle horn gripped tight in your hands. You don’t say a word. Would it even matter if you did? It’s not like you’re in a state to challenge them, so you allow yourself to fall into unconsciousness lulled by the sway of the horse and the sounds of night insects rousing from their sleep. When you finally come to you take a look at your surroundings. Trees. Tents. Campfires. It’s larger and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You want to run but you can’t, you’re still on Charles' horse with the large man pressed in behind you, arms either side as he handles the reins. There are more people here, men and women alike, and you shrink back against Charles instinctively. “Where are we?” You ask hoarsely, throat scratchy and dry. “Home, for now at least,” Charles answers, pulling his horse over to a hitching post while Javier does the same. He barely disturbs you as he dismounts, helping ease you off the saddle and onto shaky legs. “Dutch won’t like this!” Javier grouses as he too dismounts his horse, allowing it to wander to a patch of grass to graze. Charles doesn’t answer, instead leading you towards three women sitting around a campfire. They’re having a hearty conversation when you’re put upon them, feeling awkward under their shocked gazes. They talk over each other quickly but the general consensus is who the hell are you and why are you here. “Ladies,” he lifts his hand to quiet them, the other gently squeezing your shoulder, “I hope you don’t mind taking care of our friend here? She’s had a rough couple of days.” You swallow, looking down at yourself. Bloodstained. Stinking. Traumatized. Rough doesn’t come close, you think. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Charles! Bring her here!” One of the women growls, ushering you to sit by the fire despite her anger. Probing hands go to touch your head, the side where your hair hangs limp with blood, but you pull away quickly. “Ain’t my blood,” you murmur and the women all share looks before the first, already stinking of whiskey, giggles with a snort. “I’d hate t’ see the other guy!” It’s an attempt to lighten the mood and you force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes and they notice. “I’ll go get you something to get clean with, a wipe down will do ‘till we can get you a real bath,” another offers in a soft voice, kind and smiling warmly. You watch her put the book in her hands aside as she gets up, eyes trailing after her. “That’s Mary-Beth,” the blonde introduces, “I’m Karen and that there’s Tilly,” she motions with a half empty bottle to the young woman opposite you. “Just what happened to you, anyways?” Tilly asks, leaning in from where she sits on a log, “Yeah, you look half-dead!” Karen adds, scowling when Tilly sends a glare her way. “I...” You cough, gladly accepting a bottle from Karen and tipping it back without so much as a thank you. Manners be damned, you were so thirsty! The alcohol burns down your throat and your eyes sting with tears but by God it was a welcome flood. Karen cheers while Tilly shakes her head, rolling her eyes. As you gasp for air Mary-Beth returns with a bucket of water and a rag, setting them down by your side. She’s also taken the liberty of bringing you some food. It’s nothing fancy, a small bowl of leftover stew and a crust of bread, but you gratefully accept and begin your ravenous feast. It’s definitely a sight for them to behold, but you are starving so they can excuse your table manners. In between shoveling spoonfuls of stew you listen to the argument you’ve caused, Charles and Javier’s voices are known to you while the others are new. They aren’t happy that you were brought to their camp, but Charles argues that you were in need and he wasn’t going to leave you traumatized and starving on the roadside. You smile to yourself, thankful that at least he cares. “Dutch is always so mad these days,” Tilly whispers as she moves to sit next to you. You spare her a glance before turning to look over your shoulder. Dutch, you assume, is the leader of this band of societal misfits. He points accusingly at Charles, then over to where you sit, and back again, while others interject to add their piece. “C’mon, I’ll help with your hair,” Tilly distracts you, turning your head away from the fray with warm hands. She fishes a rag from the bucket, ringing it out while giving you a small smile. Mary-Beth is assessing your wrists, no doubt thinking up a way to ease their soreness. “It’ll be cold, so don’t squeal now!” Tilly laughs and you bite your tongue when the water drips down the side of your face when she starts dabbing at your scalp. Mary-Beth giggles behind her hand at your scrunched up face and Karen starts to sing, merry with alcohol and new company, and by the time the bickering has ceased you’re looking as clean as you can be with just a rag and a bucket of water. Done with your hair and leaving you to wipe your face and neck, Tilly starts rummaging through her chest, sizing up old dresses so that you can change into fresh clothes. Mary-Beth takes the chance to wrap up your wrists with bandages after wiping them gently with a damp, soft handkerchief, apologizing when you wince or hiss. “There! This one should fit, and the colour looks good too,” she smiles, folding the dress up, as well as some other bits and pieces for you, including a pair of shoes not stained with blood. You hastily wipe your hands dry on your ruined dress and take the offered items. They feel freshly washed and soft despite the course material, nothing like the grubby dress you wear now. “You’re too kind,” you smile nervously, half expecting this to be a fever dream and you’ll wake up any minute tied to that damn tree with crows picking at you. It’s not a dream. Tilly tells you to bed with them for the night once you come back from changing, making room on their bedrolls so you can at least sleep comfortably. You’re surprised that Dutch and the others haven’t come over yet to force you out, but she assures you that it can wait until the morning since everyone needs sleep. In truth, you’re thankful for it — that way they’ll all have clear heads when they decide what to do with you. As you settle down you spot Charles walking to his own bedroll and offer a smile when he looks your way. He smiles back and bids you goodnight with a small tip of his head, and for once since your kidnap you actually feel comfortable enough to sleep among a band of strangers.

[redsamuraiii]

14 Slice of Life Anime to Watch

For those who don’t watch anime, the first thing that comes to mind at the mention of the word “anime” is those pervertic lewd jokes which they’ve seen on clips and meme circulating the internet. I don’t even know what anime are those.

But little do they know of the wide variety of genres available from war action, crime thriller, historical fiction to slice of life. So sharing here is a list of slice of life anime which I’ve watched and hoping to discover more of such genres.

They’re basically a relatable and chill anime with no complex plot involving die-hard enemies out to destroy you, that sort of thing, the only enemy these characters are trying to defeat is life itself or their inner-self.

They’re just stories of characters just going about their daily lives, trying to find their place in the world. I not only like the heartwarming relationships they shared but the scenery of these places too which are simply beautiful. 

They’re so pleasant to watch. It's kind of like the anime version of curling up under the blanket on a rainy afternoon and just feeling good, makes you feel all calm and relax, when you simply want to chill and switch off your mind. And hey, if you know any similar type of anime that I don’t, please share with me! I’m currently looking for more of such anime to watch in these stressful and uncertain times!

Only Yesterday (1991)

Taeko Okajima is single 27 year old who has lived her whole life in Tokyo. She decides to take a trip to visit her family in the rural countryside of Yamagata to get away from the city life. During her stay, she finds herself increasingly nostalgic and wistful for her childhood self, while simultaneously wrestling with adult issues of career and love, and the decision to leave her city life behind.

Whisper of the Heart (1995)

Shizuku Tsukishima is a book-worm who spends her summer vacation reading and translating popular foreign music into Japanese. With aspirations to one day become a writer, Shizuku can't help but notice that the name Seiji Amasawa appears on every one of the books she borrows from the library. Her meeting with this person changes her life which led to a discovery of her hidden dreams.

From Up on Poppy Hill (2011)

Umi is a high school girl, living with her family in the beautiful seaside town of Yokahama Bay. Each day she raises a pair of flags in anticipation of the return of her sailor father, who went missing years ago. One day she meets Shun, a member of the school's literature club, and the two students decide to restore the school's rundown clubhouse to its former glory.  

Hanasaku Iroha (2011)

Ohana Matsumae is a 16-year-old from Tokyo, who is left in the care of her estranged maternal grandmother, following her mother's elopement with her boyfriend. Ohana arrives at her grandmother's country estate to realize she is the owner of a Taishō period hot spring inn called Kissuisō. Little does she knows that she’s about to bring all the employees closer together as a family.

Non Non Biyori (2009)

The story takes place in the countryside small town village of Asahigaoka, a place lacking many of the conveniences that people from the city are accustomed to. The nearest stores are a few miles away and one of the local schools consists of only five students, each of whom is in a different grade of elementary or middle school. Hotaru Ichijo, a fifth grader from Tokyo, transfers into Asahigaoka and has to adjust to countryside life with her new friends.

Flying Witch (2016)

The story is about Makoto, a young witch from Yokohama, who moves to Hirosaki, Aomori to live with relatives as part of her training. What follows is Makoto's daily life as she gets used to her new environment. Her relatives and the new friends she makes there are introduced to the customs and peculiarities of witchcraft. It’s kind of like Kiki’s Delivery Service with a touch of Harry Potter.

Yuru Camp aka Laid-Back Camp (2018)

It follows  Rin Shima, a solo camper who befriends Nadeshiko Kagamihara and the girls from the Outdoor Activities School Club, as they share their love of nature and camping. You’ll go on an adventure with them to various campsites, from pitching tents to gathering firewood, and eating under the stars. If you love this series, please know that there will be a new season coming January 2021!

Long Riders (2016)

Upon seeing someone ride on a bike, college student Ami Kurata buys a folding bike and takes up cycling with her friend Aoi Niigaki. After meeting experienced cyclists Hinako Saijo, Yayoi Ichinose, and Saki Takamiya, Ami starts going further into the world of road cycling and soon forms her own team, Fortuna.

Yama No Susume aka Encouragement of Climb (2013)

Aoi Yukimura is a quiet girl who prefers staying indoors and is afraid of heights. When she reunites with her childhood friend Hinata Kuraue, who is outgoing and loves mountaineering, they decide to climb a mountain together, in order to see a sunrise they saw together when they were younger. Along the way, they meet several other girls who are also interested in the outdoors, and begin a series of adventures on various mountains across Japan.

Sakura Quest (2017)

Yoshino Koharu is a young woman from the countryside who is hell bent on finding a job in Tokyo, but only met a series of rejections. The only job offer she received was from a tourism board of an economically struggling Manoyama, a small town in the countryside. Left with no other options, Yoshino reluctantly agrees to take on the role as “Queen” of Manoyama who will aid the Board of Tourism in their efforts to revitalize Manoyama. Determined to bring excitement to the dying town with the help of local residents, the queen enacts a series of projects to highlight the beauty and charm of Manoyama's culture. 

Yokohama Kaidashi Kikō (1998)

Set in a peaceful, post-cataclysmic world where mankind is in decline after an environmental disaster. The reduced human population has reverted to a simpler life. It follows the story of Alpha Hatsuseno who is an android that runs an out-of-the-way coffee shop, on the lonely coast of the Miura Peninsula of Japan, while her human "owner" is on a trip of indefinite length. It shows her daily activities, either alone, with customers, or on occasional trips through the countryside. It brings out the small wonders of everyday life.

Minami Kamakura High School Girls Cycling Club (2017)

It follows the life of Hiromi who just moved from Nagasaki to Kamakura and wants to learn the ride a bicycle in order to explore the coastal city! Her passion for cycling allowed her to make new friends with similar interest, and eventually forming their own cycling club in school, attracting more people as they discover the wonders of Kamakura and friendship. There’s even a cycling tip video clip at the end of every episode, so better watch out for it if you’re interested in cycling!

Super Cub (2021)

An ongoing anime about a lonely girl, Koguma, who lives alone with no parents and no friends nor hobbies feeling her life empty, until one day, when she bought an affordable second hand super cub bike to ride to school that her life began to change gradually, from meeting new friends with similar interest, to exploring new places she’s never been to before, feeling her life began to expand.

Let’s Make a Mug Too (2021)

Another ongoing anime about Himeno Toyokawa who moved to back to her father’s hometown of Gifu Prefecture to start over a new life after he lost his job in the city and lost his wife due to illness. While her father decides to open a café, Himeno discovers her interest in pottery and ceramic art, a craft that is popular in the prefecture and met new friends who are both experienced and new to the craft. She hopes to help her dad make foodware for the café.

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 17

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Swearing. It’s that mission y’all.

.....

Chapter 17

Despite the warm and comforting words from the girls, I couldn’t bring myself to speak with him. A part of me wanted him to approach me first seeing as he was the one that kissed me even if we were both thinking it. But that wasn’t going to happen it seemed, given that he hasn’t even so much as looked in my direction the last few days.

Playing dominoes with Hosea was a welcome distraction and a grand change from the mundane chores. He asked me to share a few more stories from my childhood and younger days. He was always pleasantly surprised that despite growing up with more wealth than most and taking part in yearly spring and summer balls with everything that came with that lifestyle I was still a farmers daughter. Getting my hands dirty, not shying from a fight with the neighbouring farms’ boys and my girlfriends and I discussing such vulgar topics that would make any old dame practically recoil in disgust and disappointment. Young women had the same impure thoughts and desires just as much as men, we just had to keep that fact a secret. Sneaking out of our homes in the dead of night to share drinks with the local working girls as they shared stories of the many types of men and even women that paid for their company. Answering any questions we may have and even a few tips that would have us blushing. Hosea was winning, two rounds to him and one to me. I guess he could tell something happened after leaving me and Arthur to walk back to camp. He didn't ask, he didn’t need to.

As we sat, Dutch passed us calling out to those standing around his tent nearby. 

“You tell him, fat man” Micah called out to Pearson as they all congregated.

“It’s peace, Dutch. The O’Driscolls. I mean, I think there’s a way.” Pearson replied, ignoring Micah’s insult. 

This had both Hosea and I’s attention, both of us halting our game to listen in from the sidelines. Pearson continued, how he met a few O’Driscolls on the road and something about being a cornered Tiger when in a fight. Pearson couldn’t even win against a pot of meat and potatoes nevermind a group of rival gang members. He said they are willing to come to some sort of agreement, a parley...yeah right, like that would happen. Hosea seemed to have the same idea, “They want a parley?” He intervened, turning in his chair to give them his full attention. “It’s a trap.”

“Well of course, it’s probably a trap but what have we got to lose finding out.” Micah said, turning back to Dutch and stepping closer to him.

“Get shot.” It was Arthur's turn to air his views on the situation

“We ain’t getting shot because you’ll be protecting us. It’s a trap, you shoot the lot of them. If it ain’t a trap, that slim chance…” Micah put his hands in the air, trying to get them to listen to his sound reasoning no doubt. 

Dutch pushed past them, making his way over to where we were seated, “I don’t see the point in any of this.” The others followed behind before coming to stop around us. Dutch leaned on Hosea for his reasoning but Micah wouldn’t let up in trying to persuade him to seek peace. It didn't sit right with me, Micah enjoyed a good fight so I didn't understand why he wanted this feud to end. And as much as I wanted the O’Driscolls to be a distant memory after what they had done to me I could only see this as hopeless.

“It’s a chance we gotta take.” 

“I killed Colm’s bother, long time ago…” Dutch started, hesitating to continue, pain etched upon his face like he was trying to keep emotions at bay. “Then he killed...a woman I loved dear.” 

It was quiet around the table at that, Hosea standing so I did too regardless of me not needing to be part of this. But I needed to see if Micah could convince Dutch. The former leaned into the table “As you say, it's a long time ago, Dutch.” His voice was low and each word spoken slowly. Everyone looked to Dutch, but he had a faraway look to him, contemplating. And it didn't take long for him to make up his mind. With a slight nod and his brows furrowed he spoke.

“Let’s go. You and me, with Arthur protecting us no one else.” He stated as he walked off

Minutes ago it was the stupidest idea he heard with no doubt it would be a trap, but now, after only a few carefully selected words from Micah it seemed like he believed there could be a chance even after their history and burning hatred for each other. 

I looked at Hosea, I could tell he didn't feel hopeful about this, then I turned to Dutch, speaking without thinking. 

“I’ll come too.”

“No, just the three of us.”

“I want to make sure it's done either way,” I stepped closer to Dutch “After what they did to me...what they were planning on doing.” Before Dutch could speak Arthur appeared beside us, acknowledging me for the first time in days. “Not ‘appening. You’re staying here.”

“But - “

“I said no.” He scolded as he looked down at me with anger bubbling up in his eyes, just waiting for me to retaliate. I clenched my fists at my side, wanting to stand my corner but I knew it would be fruitless. What he says goes, it doesn’t matter what I want. 

Giving him one last look I huffed in irritation at being refused and scolded like a child. Pushing past Arthur to be anywhere else. 

I didn’t watch them as they left.

…..

It wasn't long until the thundering of hooves could be heard coming into camp. Helping to prepare the stew with Pearson in silence as we both awaited their return. 

Two horses came back with their riders. Both of them looking furious as they made their way to the main tent with speed. 

Hosea and Pearson made their way over, all of us realising it didn't go well. What a surprise. I followed behind them, but not before looking out to the direction they came in waiting for the third rider. No sight or beating hooves to be heard. 

“It was a goddamn trap!” I heard Dutch bellow, sat upon a chair in his tent, cigar in hand. Micah was hovering around him as usual, trying to calm the man. Hosea telling them he told them so. All of them arguing while Pearson couldn’t stop apologising from the sidelines, not being heard over the others voices. The volume and tone began to attract others, stopping whatever they were doing to watch and listen. 

During all this, I didn’t realise my feet took me to the centre of it all until I was there before them. 

“Where's Arthur?” 

Neither of them knew. He was set up as a lookout and after the meeting with Colm gave way to nothing but he failed to meet them at the agreed-upon spot. Micah said they couldn’t wait around in case any of them were hanging around to ambush them. So they left. They made no effort to check. 

I just looked at them, dumbfounded. 

“He's a big lad, he can handle himself. He will be fine.” Micah lectured, taking the few steps needed to stand in front of me. Uncomfortably close, his hands on his gun belt and a mocking tone as he spoke. I turned away from him, looking beyond the horses like he was to show up any second. But this didn't feel right. If they had a plan he would stick to it. Turning back the men diverted their attention away from me, expecting me to take it as my dismissal. 

“Are you not going to look for him? What if something happened?” 

It was Dutch’s turn to address me, standing to loom over me. “He’s fine. Probably taking a long route making sure he’s not followed here.”

“But you -”

“Enough. I’ve got more important things to deal with at present.” He turned his back to me

“More important? What the fuck are -” I strode over to follow. Anger present in my voice as I hissed out every word in disbelief. But I didn't get far, a hand gripping onto my arm and pulling me back. Turning to see Abigail. I didn’t even know she was nearby. 

Her grip holding steady as she pulled me further away from the tent. I could hear Dutch and Micah speaking again but I was too irate at this point to listen. 

She didn't speak, she just took me to my tent and waited for me to sit. Once I did I noticed the others watching. Some of them obviously worried. This didn’t feel right. 

@kashasenpai​ @fallout-cowgirl​