#actually most of the guys in red dead redemption

[strangerinalostworld]

does anyone else sometimes get such bad gender envy from characters that they just have to like take a break from whatever media said character is in?? or is that just me

[river-of-wine]

It’s so strange to me how so many of the same people who talk about how complex the writing of the Red Dead Redemption games is, which it of course is, are the same people who refuse to accept that their favourite cowboy ever did anything actually wrong that can’t be blamed on somebody else. John chose to go after Micah. He heard Arthur tell him not to look back, he heard Abigail pleading with him to stay and he went anyway, and that decision is what eventually got him killed. Arthur Morgan beat Thomas Downes to death. Strauss gave him the debt mission, but Arthur went through with it. He beat a sick, dying man to death and that killed him too. These are important aspects of their stories that trying to push onto somebody else completely removes or ignores the significance of. No one forced John to kill Micah or Arthur to kill Thomas Downes. Micah wasn’t forcing Dutch to do anything he did either. Dutch is already behaving in concerning ways long before Micah really starts with any of that behaviour. Micah did not force his hand, Micah did not make him abandon his sons multiple times, Micah did not make him abuse his girlfriend, Micah did not make him take advantage of the Wapiti people. Hosea is capable of wrongdoing contrary to what many people seem to discuss, but he’s treated by so many people as the perfect most honourable man because he’s placed next to and openly questions one of the worst guys around. Hosea raising John and Arthur into the outlaw life that would eventually destroy all four of them is not something you can exclusively acknowledge when it comes to cute found family things, it is a flawed part of the very flawed man that Hosea is. The bank robbery was his idea. There was no secret second rat, Abigail and Molly were never sneaking off to Milton in chapter four, he just put together a heist that went badly. Your favourite cowboy has done bad things and you can’t talk about how complex he is if you refuse to acknowledge what makes him complex in the first place.

[nthspecialll]

Historical accuracy

When it comes to Red Dead Redemption historical accuracy plays a massive role in the characters every move, from the way they dress to the way they talk and naturally their opinions and because Rockstar are so good at remembering that it is crucial to remember it when thinking about the characters.

No it is not weird Bill is a racist, even around Dutch. No Javier is not just cruel in chapter six. No Dutch is not an all good progressive guy. No Arthur would not "treat you right." However these opinions are not completely popular amongst the fandom because some don't understand it. What do you mean Arthur who helped women believes in gender roles? What do you mean Dutch who saved Lenny is a raging racist against others? What do you mean Bill who is in a fairly progressive gang still dislikes people of color? What do you mean Javier who yelled at Abigail could be understood when doing so?

Even if all of these things don't make sense to us, doesn't mean it doesn't actually make sense. When looking at it from a historical perspective it makes perfect sense, however, a lot of us lack the general knowledge about that time for it to naturally fit for us.

This makes headcannoning and theorizing a lot harder, not just because it is not everyone who can just have access to all of this information which often would make a historian frown if they read the headcannon, but also because these characters are so diverse and comes from such diverse pasts.

For example, another piece of knowledge that most of the fandom lacks that would put a stick in many headcannons is that men in the 1800's were generally affectionate with one another and weren't afraid of sweet words or physical touch. A lot of VanDerMatthrews is based on their physical touch and sweet words, however that said Arthur does say people could mistake their affection for something else, meaning they would sometimes go over what was considered normal.

Another headcannon I can quite fast debunk is "Arthur is an alcoholic," a headcannon I have so far only seen based on the fact that he drinks every time there is a bar scene, however people forget that there was a different drinking culture back then and it was normal for people to drink more than what we do today. Karen is an actual alcoholic and there is a massive difference between her who had found the bottom of the bottle at 10pm and Arthur who drank whenever he came into a bar.

The same can be said with "Arthur is so addicted to nicotine! That is why he took the cigarette Seamus threw on the ground!" No there just wasn't that good hygiene back then and there was an appreciation for not letting a good cigarette go to waste.

Again, some of these minor details can be so hard to get right that I do not blame people for getting them wrong, I have myself had to delete posts because there were things I did not know, but they are there some bigger ones that I do think are more commonly known or at least should be.

[ellielatinagf]

Ellie Williams in Covid head cannons

Sooooo this is just a small idea I had because I’ve never seen anyone else do this soooooooo. Our poor girly in yet another epidemic. Love you all!

Warnings: a tiny bit nsfw content, cursing, for the girls only pleaseee, lmk if there’s anything else

Was absolutely thrilled when everyone was advised to stay inside because she’s such an antisocial loser untilllllll she saw how everyone was rapidly spreading the disease. She’s low key a germaphobe.

Totally had a YouTube channel which consisted of her recording herself doing nothing but laying on the couch with you watching tv. Her only subscribers were Jesse, Joel, and Dina and some rando from Tennessee.

She found a new obsession every week and now the garage is filled with boxes of old paintings, crochet chickens, and diy art stuff.

Had ranked every Ramen noodle flavor from best to worst

Absolutely freaked OUT when you got Covid from your job and she ended up sleeping over at Joel’s. She actually refused to come back untill you showed her how you deep cleaned the whole house.

Ellie on FaceTime

Ellie: wait babe lemme see right there on the dresser

You: Ellie I literally wiped it down twice

Ellie: well I didn’t see it

Tried to make cookies one time and thought they were perfect and crispy around the edges. They really tasted like chips and she got mad when you laughed and claimed you never take her seriously.

Okay I’m sorry but she was a horny monster like cmon she was in the house all day with you like how can she not.

Had an obsession with the Big Bang theory and made you watch it with her and explained all the science stuff which she knew for the most part. On the ones she didn’t know she’d yap about it till you looked it up and she’d gaslight you into thinking she was right.

You: “Umm babe google says……”

Ellie: “that’s literally what I was saying”

She was at Joel’s house one time helping him make more guitars. She accidentally cut herself and when you demanded she go to the hospital which she was terrified of because of all the Covid patients getting her sick she went like this

“Hold on babe i watched greys anatomy”

Fell victim to the meme pages all in her camera roll that were like this

Hated zoom meetings but she’d be the type to hold her phone on the screen and watch those Roblox Tik toks.

I know i already said she was a fortnite god but that girl watched every single fortnite concert at the time and made sure you were right there with her and she made sure to clip the whole thing even though when watching the clip back her and Jesse were yelling their asses off. She loved season three of fortnite.

Ellie: “ HURRY UP BABE TRAVIS SCOTT IS GONNA PREFORM OH MY GOD JESSE WHERE ARE YOU!!!”

Ellie hated when people overstocked at the grocery store meanwhile she did the exact same thing because she was paranoid and it came in hand since you guys wouldn’t need to go grocery shopping for at least a week and a half

Ellie also discovered games with an emotional storyline like Detroit becomes human, red dead redemption, resident evil, ect. And had a phase where she’d be all poetic and shit thinking she was Shakespeare, she got tired of talking like she was from the 1800s.

Ellie: “my love, your eyes, they remind me of a thousand sunsets…”

You: “did you take out the trash?”

She had all her favorite YouTubers and would watch them on the tv and she’d make you play among us with her because that was “the game of century” as she proclaimed.

She actually had a small mini breakdown because our poor girl found out Joel had Covid and remember that in the news it said older people were more at risk. The poor girl though Joel was gonna die and you laid in bed with Ellie who was sniffling and crying in your shirt while you rubbed her back. Those always calm her down. Then when Joel was better again she made you pinky promise not to tell anyone anything. But she did end up calling Joel more frequently.

You guys actually had spent a lot of time together and most couples who spent so much time together broke up and got bored and such and such but you two actually enjoyed you time together. You and Ellie would would go to an open park where no one was around and watch the sunset and talk about what your plans were after everything was back to normal. Ellie asked if you two could get a puppy and who can ever say no to those eyes and freckles cheeks?

Another thing you guys liked to do was spent all day in bed and cuddling. Now a lot of people will assume Ellie would be the big spoon and that can be true sometimes but the girl is a hugeeeeeee softie. She loved being the little spoon because she felt safe by feeling your soft breath ok her back or shoulder. And she’s hold a dinosaur plushie. Like always.

She cried when she watched videos of family’s finally being able to reunite or grandparents watching their families through a class. Who didn’t cry?

She loved playing just dance with you and she’d purposely pick a song where you both had to dance together because she never has the balls to ask you to dance to with her.

She had a little camcorder where she recorded almost everything in your lives at that point. You brushing your teeth, both of you eating cereal, having tickle fights, ect. What Ellie doesn’t know is that now you sometimes go to the camcorder and watch the old videos and she’d a tear here and there because you loved the memories.

Some how she was actually a beast at the toilet paper kick up challenge and got a good 14 kick ups.

You cannot tell me she didn’t buy those apple juices that actually founded like apples when you bit into them.

I lowkey just had an idea of what Ellie would be like at this time sooooo lmk what other hcs you guys might want! Also be sure to let me know if you’d like to be in the Taglists! Don’t forget to talk about Palestine guys! Free Palestine 🇵🇸 🇵🇸🇵🇸

Taglists: @vqxen @bready101 @lilylynne11 @Lively-blues @Yurixxiii @vampyangel @gato-chino @a-little-bit-of-everybody @abbysbraids

[08melancholie]

Coated. — Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Denial of Feelings, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Location: Valentine (Red Dead Redemption), Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Soft Micah Bell, Pining, Pining Reader, reader is lowkey a bit of a freak, Female Honorifics and Terms, a bit ooc but you can't blame me i just want him so bad, Obsession, Obsessive Behaviour, Unresolved Sexual Tension

summary: It felt unreal; the smell of musk, gunpowder and smoke, the leather fabric dragging over your undershirt, the way it hung over your body, threatening to slip off with every movement from the size difference. A storm always ruined your plans, usually. Though, you were finally glad for the change of weather, seeing how much it benefitted you tonight.

a/n: micah bell fluff im sorry guys cant help myself lawd....... i want him to give me a bear hug and tell me itll be ok

Not proofread !!!!

words: 3,288 | AO3 LINK

Valentine always smelled the same, and it would instantly attack your nostrils when you'd exit the almost run-down saloon after a night out. Today, a fraction of the gang had one of the more successful jobs, and decided to treat themselves to a drink out in the nearby town instead of in camp, like they would usually. You were part of the fraction; having accompanied them on quite a few jobs as of recently.

It was a high-risk robbery, and it went so much smoother than any of the men you did the job with expected it to. So, it was obvious drinks would be needed. Maybe getting yourself drunk is exactly what you needed; whether or whether not you did, you were going to do it. And get drunk you—somewhat—did. You were a bit cheap, so you stopped yourself at tipsy with four shots of whiskey and a few rounds of beers that Arthur generously paid for everyone. Most people actually tapped out before you; surprisingly. Your guess was that they were simply too tired. By the end of the night, the only members left in the saloon out of your little group were Arthur, Dutch, Micah and yourself. You tapped out at your limit—more-so your wallets limit—and decided you'd also head out, saying so to the men deciding to keep on drinking. They told you to have a good night, and you returned the words before walking out.

And so, here you were, on the porch stairs a few feet before the saloon door, a cigarette held in your hand while you waited for the storm to die down a bit. The air was undeniably hot; seeing as the storm was happening late-July, which was odd. Your undershirt wasn't providing much warmth, and you hoped that the cigarette would do the job for you instead—to no avail.

You took shaky drags of your cigarette and blew the smoke out before yourself, hugging your body with your free hand. Seriously; why the hell was there a storm right now? At this time of year? It puzzled you, that much was sure. You just hoped it'd settle, even if by a bit, before you mounted up and left for camp.

The saloon doors creak, the old wood far past being an easy oil-it-up fix by now, and the owners too stingy and lazy to replace them. Spurs clank against the boots of the owner, that stops next to you.

"Hell you doin' out here, still?" Micah Bell. He had a very distinct voice; thick accent that muffled some of his words, just barely coherent when he spoke to you. A small drawl to it, like he was dragging the words out with him when he spoke them.

You explain your unfortunate situation—the coldness and wetness providing no sustainable condition to go riding right now—before you toss your cigarette into the muddy surface at the bottom of the stairs. He seems confused by your words, though. "So you'll shoot up half a town but is scared of a lil' water an' cold?" He teases you—like he does, every day. Everyone, at that. He always seeks his victim-of-the-day out easily, and that has been you today. What an honor.

You replied with a small scoff, shooing him off with your hand. "Oh, don't be like that girl," He lowered himself to a crouching position, now almost on level with you. "gotta let me tease you sometimes." His breath told you that he's had much more to drink than yourself, reeking of liquor and matching the usual scent of the saloon. But, that smelled seemed to match him.

"Quite a storm, yeah..." He watched the rain splash down onto the dirt road ahead, his forearms on his bent knees. "You ain't dressed for 'ts hellish weather either, huh?"

He's damn right; you're still shivering and hugging yourself for warmth, the cigarette previously in your hand providing barely any warming to your body.

But here's something you need to know; drunk Micah and sober Micah are two separate people.

He hummed in thought for a moment before clicking his tongue and standing back up, looking down at you. "Get up." You gazed up at him, creasing your eyebrows in confusion. You waited for some sort of explanation, unmoving—until he repeated himself, and you knew he wouldn't say it a third time. You stand up reluctantly, turning to face him and waiting for whatever he had in mind. The next action is one only of drunk Micah Bell; starting to unbutton his coat in front of you, every button revealing more of his red undershirt. He shrugged it off his body and took a step forward, draping it around you. At first, you really just assumed he was messing with you, trying to provoke a reaction before snatching the article of clothing right back. But no, he slipped it around you and took a step back, taking a moment to look at you. "It's a bit big.. but it'll help 'ya get home without'a sickness of some sorts."

You were dumbfounded. You knew Micah was much different when he's had some to drink—but this? This felt like the line was being blurred.

"Get home safe, and give it back when I'm in camp again, darlin'." He looked out at the road before turning back for the saloon, disappearing into the building with another obnoxious creak of the doors, leaving you silent and still in your spot outside.

Micah Bell gave you his coat.

Micah Bell told you to get home safe.

Micah Bell used a pet name on you.

Darling. Darling; he's never done this before, none of this, matter of a fact. Hell, he barely spoke to you, only ever interacting for job and mission-related purposes, or simple and brief small-talk. So, yes—this was goddamn shocking.

Your little trance was broken up by a brief thunderclap, lighting up the sky for barely half a second. You blinked a few times—clearly still processing whatever just happened—before you looked down. The leather coat hung very big on you, the sleeves hid your hands fully and it almost dragged on the floor. He wore it often, so it wasn't a surprise that the scent he usually carried plastered itself onto the jacket; gunpower, proof of many shootouts where he walked out victorious; smoke, the consequence of his bad smoking habits; musk, his usual scent that, honestly, you always connected to him. You liked the smell. Your body definitely appreciated the gesture, as it's stopped the goosebumps climbing up your arms and subsided the shaking of your body. You seemed to just accept the situation, wrapping the coat around yourself with one hand and keeping your other over the hat on your head, making a quick sprint to your horse. You mount up and urge it to start trotting towards camp, holding onto the reins with the hand previously on your hat.

Your steed definitely didn't appreciate the weather, much like yourself. She whinnied a lot, her own form of complaint. You promised her many treats as apology for putting her through the storm—despite you not being a weather forecaster, so really, how could you have known? Well, she won't care. If she could speak, you know you'd never hear the end of it. You just want to get home, as much as she does at that, and encourage her to keep riding. You've subconsciously brought your chin down to your chest inside of the coat, instantly getting yourself a whiff of that scent you felt earlier while still at the saloon. It's a fairly nice smell, you'll have to admit so. Your nose is right on the rim of the collar, and you can smell everything that you previously described.

Despite the acceptance of the current circumstances you've gotten yourself into, your mind is foggy—filled with unkempt, messy blonde hair; greyish-blue eyes and uniquely white eyelashes that make him stand out more than any camp member; a messy attractiveness linked to him. Boldness, secrecy, cockiness, vulgarity, degeneracy—very Micah Bell. Now, why is it that you're thinking so hard? Is it the coat—are you still stuck on the fact he would do such a thing? It shouldn't matter this hard; but it does. Nothings ever mattered more to you than figuring Micah Bell out.

He's truly a character, and you've caught yourself voluntarily wanting to talk to him, do jobs with him—all things that had the other girls in camp telling you to back off and not start with him. But it was never that simple, no. You felt obligated to seek him out, take a deeper look inside. You needed to know what his deal was, why he was the way he was.

Despite many protests, your horse gets you back to camp in a matter of minutes—ones that felt like hours to you, when thinking of the outlaw; whose scent is wrapped around yourself, his imprint all over your undershirt and on your body. That goddamn scent, it's doing things to you.

You hitch your horse just outside of camp, being extremely quiet while also quick to get out of the rain pelting down, just as hard as before. The last thing you both needed was someone seeing you wearing his coat—God knows what these people'll assume about it. You make a b-line for your tent, closing the rest of the camp and world out as you tie your flaps shut, the tent lit up by only a small oil lantern above your bedroll. Your hair is soaked, dripping to the ground and coat as the small water droplets race down the leather material. You find yourself subconsciously walking to a mirror, backing up and looking at yourself, in his coat. Your eyes trace your own form, intently. After a moment, you break yourself out of your space-out, shrugging the coat off and gently draping it onto a chair in your tent, to dry off. In the meantime, you change out of your own outfit, really not looking forward to getting any sicker than you probably are.

The water took it's time fully evaporating out of the coat, leaving a few small cracks in it and brittle slightly; more than before already. You felt mildly guilty—but he gave it to you, clearly already aware of what water will do to the fine material, so he shouldn't be upset. You hope. You're sat on your bedroll, watching the last few drops of rain fall off of the rim of the jacket. All you've been thinking about has been goddamn Micah—almost to the point of getting tired of it. And, just where was this coming from? You were lost. Maybe it was the tipsiness catching up to you—to be truthful, you hadn't had a true drink in weeks, so it might just be a... odd, new side effect. That's the excuse you'll go with, it seems.

Well, you assumed only alcohol consumption would make you want—no, need the coat on you again. It felt like it was beckoning you closer; luring you to itself like a siren does with her hypnotic voice, or as the fantasy books you see Jack read say. And, damn it, was it working on you.

You slowly got up, leaving your bedroll and strolling over to the chair, looking down at the piece of clothing. Your hands carefully pick the jacket up, running your fingers up and down the material, feeling every story-telling crease and cut, sometimes even finding little bullet wounds he never got sewn back up. Maybe he liked it that way. Then, one arm slips into the first sleeve—then the other, and you're wrapped around the coat again; around the scent; around Micah.

You look down at yourself, inspecting how the coat fits you, as if you haven't already done that enough times. And then, the goddamn scent again—you feel it creep around you, going straight for your nose. And damn you and your alcohol consumption, because you find yourself grasping the collar on both sides, and lifting them to your face. A delicious whiff of the smell, so memorable; so sweet; so unique; so Micah.

Jesus, what the hell are you doing?

You drop the collar from your hands and scrunch your nose up—at your own choice of action. Oh, but it only gets worse for you, as it always seems to. You go to take the coat off, ready to simply walk to his tent and toss it onto his bedroll, finally be done with all this. Yet, you hesitate. Your body protests, instantly showing it's against the idea when your hands freeze up, unable to slip the damned leather off of your bare shoulders. You hear yourself huff, getting frustrated. What was going on—why were you acting so goddamn weird?

Yet, you find yourself so easily accepting this, just how you accepted the coat to be wrapped around you by Micah, how you accepted the impulse of smelling it, and now the action of not taking away the article of clothing that's all over your body. You seem way too fine with all of this.

More-so with your body walking itself back to your bedroll and laying itself down—wrapping the coat around it tightly and simply basking in the aroma that's surrounding the leather over itself.

Your nose is pressed to the collar, acting almost as a weighted blanket on your frame. God, you feel like you're being lulled into your slumber. The smell, the feel, the weight of the coat—everything is like a goddamn drug to you. You're high off of it all; off of him.

Your eyes flutter closed, your breathing slows down, your arms tighten the coat around you.

Alcohol always made you a bit more sleepy than you'd have liked it to—so now, combine that with the heavenly feeling the simple item of clothing is giving you; you've never felt yourself fall asleep faster. You feel contentment, security, infatuation. And you decide that it's a welcomed feeling.

You never understood just how he functioned so well, so early into the day; especially knowing he was a heavy insomniac most nights. He never slept and always was and about by early morning, somehow. All you remember is waking up in his coat.

You decided to give it back early, be done with it for good. After your little display yesterday, you wanted nothing more to do with the coat. You knew he was awake, mostly by the one open canvas flap of his tent, a welcoming gesture, almost. Would be if we were talking about anyone but Micah.

You walked yourself over with the coat draped over your arm—not yourself, for once. You approached the small abode of the outlaw, kicking your boot against the canvas to announce your arrival. He grumbled something, only part you understood being a small "yeah, come in", and so you did. You hadn't yet been in his tent, for some reason. Guess it never interested you until yesterday; when you realized many things about yourself whilst wrapped around the leather material and distinctive aroma of Micah. Get it over with, you hummed, stepping inside.

For a man like Micah—and what you knew about him—his tent was pretty clean, surprisingly. He was sat on his bedroll, slowly rising as he noticed it was you coming to his tent. "Mm, mornin'." He drawled, walking up to you. "Finally here to return this, huh.." He quipped, looking down at you with one hand on his hip, the other extended for the coat. "thought you'd just keep it." He added quietly.

You were confused by the statement, asking him why you would just keep it. His answer had goosebumps reappearing all over your body, this time not from the cold, though. "After your little display; sleeping with my coat on, I thought you'd have just kept it alllll for yourself." Your blood would have run cold; if it didn't all flow right into your cheeks. Oh, God. Oh. God.

You knew you were turning red, looking like a beet, fresh out of the ground, plausibly. You couldn't look at him, not after that. You swore that your tent was tied oh-so-tightly, but it seems you were still sloppy with how you tied those damn flaps together. "Oh, don't be embarrassed," He leaned down closer, his hands on his knees as he got down to your level, not too fond of speaking down at you. "just ask me next time you want a little.. whiff." He hummed, taking the coat out of your hands and slipping it onto himself—with you watching like the little goddamn pervert you seem to be making yourself out to be.

You felt something stir in your stomach—why in the holy hell was he looking at you like that? That goddamn smirk; no anger about your weird display; nothing. And damn him for staying leaned down so close; probably able to see the sweat forming on your forehead. You were wishing for the earth to swallow you whole now.

His hand found your shoulder, squeezing it to get you out of your little trance again. "Go on about your day, girl;" His breath ticked the side of your neck, hitting a part of your ear as well. His voice was low, and the tone he was using with you as of right now? Your knees felt horribly weak. "but I might just have to keep my eye on 'ya, hm?" Oh, sweet Jesus.

Maybe it really was time to accept this—and fire back.

You blinked a few times, your eyes finding his beautiful blues. A small, murmured "thank you" left your lips; lips that then pecked his jawline and scruffy little beard. And, unable to control yourself, you did take in the smell of him again; the raw, unfiltered smell. Oh, it was the best thing you'll have ever gotten a whiff of. He was basking in cheap cologne—surprisingly—and gunpowder, his breath lingering about as he exhaled a noise of surprise breathlessly, his breath still soaked in the alcohol and liquor he had downed at the saloon. You had to brace yourself before you pulled away, unsure how he'd react—this was Micah Bell, after all.

You saw yourself in him, at that moment; shocked and red as a beet, trying to physically comprehend your move on him. Oh, if only boldness wasn't his biggest weakness. His hand squeezed your shoulder, gripping at it. Your body froze when he began to pull; drag you closer to him.

You couldn't stay in there for that—not until you sorted yourself out. And so, you detested and moved away, walking back and out of the tent, red and embarrassed—and feeling like a dog in heat, not to forget.

Micah was.. dumbfounded. Like yourself, when he offered his coat up. He managed to shut his mouth, but still, his eyes couldn't help lingering on the spot you once stood at, in his grip and kissing his jaw. When he finally broke himself out of the moment, he buttoned the long coat up to hide the obvious tightening in his pants, slipping his hands into his pockets. Though, the left pocket had an unusual item inside itself. Micah fished out a little box; ammo. You had left him a box of ammunition, 'for his troubles'; as the small note you scribbled onto said.

Damn you—and him for getting involved, because he knows he's not making it out of this unscathed.

Kudos on AO3 always appreciated! Thank you for reading and indulging in my insanity with me :)

[can-of-w0rmz]

Just realised Red Dead Redemption literally has the exact same themes as Les Misérables

Redemption, complex morality and the law, forgiveness, fatherhood, society’s creation of criminals, the upper vs lower class, religious misuse to justify immoral acts, religion and its role in redemption, charity and selflessness as a form of atonement, women being forced into prostitution as a result of society’s failings, corrupt legal system, revolution and the inherent grey morality of revolution, idealism, idealism in revolution, hopes of a better world, both ridiculously long and detailed stories with 5000 tangents about random side characters you’ll never hear from again, and both literally end with the protagonist’s death after their sacrifice to a found family member for a better life for them. And most importantly, both include rich french bad guys.

Yeah this makes sense now actually

[alexxness]

Regarding Javier Escuella's hatred (as a Javier fan)

[TW: Red Dead Redemption 1 and 2 spoilers]

As a person whose favorite RDR character is Javier Escuella, I understand the hatred towards him.

Not gonna lie, I also got sad when Javier decided to stay in Dutch and Micah's side in the end. But everyone did.

But let's remember that Javier had a terrible past back when he was in Mexico, and there is no surprise that he stood loyal to Dutch after saving Javier…

I think that he has been blinded by loyalty ever since Hosea died and Micah has started turning everything around since.

I love Javier from chapters 1 to 4, but since the 5th chapter, the chapter where Dutch started going crazy, so did he (and Bill). Unfortunately, he started turning into a shitty person, and getting along with Micah way too much (and they used to fight because of Micah's racism, what the heck happened???)

But in my opinion, if RDR1 never got to be released first, I'm pretty sure that Javier would've stood by Arthur and John's side, considering he never actually pointed his gun like everyone else towards them, because he's still loyal to them as well.

When we first saw Javier in RDR1 in Mexico, he looked like the kind of person who'd sacrifice everyone around him for his advantage. He left John to die because Dutch did so... He said that he thought that he was dead because Dutch said so (probably)...

Javier is dangerous, a rebel and an outlaw, he killed a powerful man from Mexico's government.

He wanted to fight for his people because the government doesn't give a crap about them. He had a cause and a purpose.

When Dutch saved him, Javier made America his new home and gave his whole loyalty and trust to Dutch, like everyone else did in the beginning. Dutch promised freedom to the whole gang, which is Javier's whole purpose back in Mexico as well, but for most gang members, it doesn't happen.

As I pointed out before, Javier would've stood by Arthur and John's side if RDR1 hadn't been released first.

His actor/face model/VA wanted Javier to stand by their side, but it wasn't possible due to the events of the first game. But I can imagine that if he stood by their side, he could've been free (at least, until agent Ross and the rest of the guys came by [again]).

But out of all this, Javier is a pretty cool and chill character, he's very silly in the first chapters. I love whenever he's at the campfire, and he's just there chilling, singing, and playing his guitar (that's what I appreciate about him).

He's nice if you're nice, but if you cross his limits, he won't hesitate to attack or even kill you.

Like a lot of people say, he's got the nicest clothes out there, he's a man with a sense of fashion ✨

I may not be the only one, but I only enjoy Javier's character until the end of chapter 4, I love him with all my heart.

People should look up to his character only in these chapters (from 1 to 4) because people seem to hate Javier's fans because of his bad actions when most of us only like him for his good/silly actions.

[lemonmaid]

Video games that I think Vice Dorm Leaders would play.

Since alot of y'all liked the headcannons about the dorm leaders I thought, 'hell might aswell do the vice dorm leaders'. I'm glad that so many of y'all liked it, request are always open!

Here's part 1 with dorm leaders

Trey Clover : Cool Math Games

I don't think this guy has ever played a video game besides the one that was available on the Chrome-books, (when class got slow and boring).

"Trey what are you doing?".

"Not now, I'm on day 40 of Papa's Freeza".

Ruggie Bucci : Spiderman 2.

This guy only allowed to play it because Leona doesn't play his Playstation 5 that his family gifted him.

"Is that spiderman 2?"

"Yup..."

"How long have you've been playing that?"

"..."

"Does it meet your expectations?"

".."

Bro is in the zone, he's addicted, he has never had this much dopamine in his LIFE.

Jade Leech : Minecraft

When Jade doesn't want to go hiking or do Azul's dirty work, he would really enjoy a good minecraft game.

"Perfect look at what I found"

"Oh. That must have been an update, I don't think I've seen this Biome"

"Oooooh Perfect!! Look at what I built~".

"Floyd is that a penis?"

On second thought, he definitely keeps villagers prisoned for trading and... torture...

Jamil Viper : Walking Dead ( Telletale )

I like to think that Jamil is a casual enjoyed of Telltale games, why? Because no one else had given him this much emotional and power.

"Are you okay?"

"No..."

"Why.... I just finished the series..... and found out that Telltale is out of business"

"Oh... don't kill yourself"

Bro takes the choosing characters fate game too seriously.

Rook Hunt : Red Dead Redemption

This man, has replayed story mode so many times. Everytime, he gets Low Honor and the Bad Ending.

"Oh~ perfect, I don't know what I am doing wrong!"

"Okay... let me watch you play"

*two hours later of murder after murder spree*

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you".

Ortho Shroud : Project Sakai

Perfect combo after Perfect Combo after Perfect combo. Do NOT play in a room with him, because he will be the motherfucker to leave when everyone else has failed or just one.

"Ortho... I think you're taking this game too seriously".

*replays audio in mocking tone

Lilia Vanerouge : He's been around for a long time I think he's played most games in existence. Unless he is behind a few decades, I would say Mario Kart or Gutiar Hero.

"Am I hip perfect?" Lilia breaks down the weridest fuckinh combo behind his back.

"You're....something".

This man still has an Xbox 360 in his room and is still gaining Xbox points.

Grim: Fruit Ninja

This is the only game that he can play because he has no thumbs.

Otherwise, he is a tablet baby, that phone.... scratched, stained, cracked, and weird stench.

A/N

I'm finally mining away the drafts!!! I hope yall enjoy what's coming this week because I'm going to be do drained afterwards lol.

Hopefully more male reader povs.

[leathr-blr]

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa did you see the new pnf short?

this is news to me. i’ve been focusing on my mental health (playing red dead redemption 2 and nothing else) for the past week so i’ve been offline but i gotta check this out…

what

i am so hype for this. i love it so much. it is amazing and i want more right now. please don’t read under the cut there’s definitely not a multi paragraph conspiracy theory underneath

I AM NOT ACCUSING ANYONE OF ANYTHING… i am just SAYING MY PEACE

us shippers are rejoicing, as we rightfully should, at this amazing w. but i just gotta be that one guy, i gotta poop on the party. could this be bordering into… and forgive me for uttering these words… queerbaiting?

i know the idea of being queerbaited by an evil scientist man and a secret agent playtpus is ridiculous and hilarious, but r we getting johnlocked just a little bit? maybe just a little…. because i’ve always been of the opinion that perryshmirtz will most likely never be a canon storyline for a bunch of reasons, and as much as i’d like that to happen, i can see how some oblivious straight people (so… probably a lot of the writers let’s be real) could reasonably watch all of phineas and ferb and think there’s absolutely nothing homoromantic going on between the two of them. like of course there’s jokes about them being like couple in the same way we get it for buford and bajeet, but, at least when it was airing at the time that it was, that was neverrr going to be acknowledged as anything but funny funny haha joke. like i love dwampy but this show is not crowned for its thoughtful and progressive takes there is SOOOOO much racial stereotyping and ignorant shit in pnf. relationships between two men were not going to hold the same narrative weight as a hetero relationship

so yes i think it’s a bit of a stretch to say pnf in itself is queerbaiting with perryshmirtz, but THESE SHORTS… this is like……. a lot man it’s a lot man it’s a blessing and a curse. i hope it’s just a couple folks who like perryshmirtz putting those bits for funsies but i’m getting suspicious. i’m raising my eyebrows up and down, feeling as if i’m seeing flags of a.. pinkish hue… reddish, perhaps.

and this is disneyyyy cmmmonnn all these hip new queer kid shows? they’re doing pretty good. of course, we aren’t going to ruin our precious precious phineas and ferb IP for the foreign market by putting a gay relationship in the actual show, but it couldn’t hurt to draw in a few tumblr and tiktok queers from our homoromantic little shorts, eh? ehh? it’s a big market, kids aren’t just tuning in on cable tvs anymore to watch phineas and ferb, we need a little more outreach. it’s all about streaming babbbyy it’s all about that disney plus! get those queers watching the new seasons of phineas and ferb when they’re finished binging the owl house!

are you understanding my friends? i am no messiah of perryshmirtz. that’s liz. but maybe, i shall be a mere messenger spreading my annoying takes amongst the land. or maybe it’s not that deep because 8 year olds watching phineas and ferb don’t care. but it’s a free website baybe

[devilheartsblog]

So I’m making a Winx rewrite and decided to doodle some ideas and explain them below

I think it was a missed opportunity since Orgon is literally the Wizard of absorption and should have the ability to mimic powers after stealing them instead of absorbing their strength. I also changed the White Circle to be a weapon against the Wizards without any Earth Fairies being trapped inside of it cause in my rewrite they’re all dead (except Morgana and Roxy). Maybe they’ll appear as ghosts or something.

I don’t really remember if Roxy had mommy issues but I’m giving her that and her dad wife issues. She left haphazardly and Klaus didn’t get his memory wiped of her, so he resents her for leaving and essentially abandoning him and Roxy. Roxy would want to know of her mother more which makes them clash

Riven being jealous and butting heads with Musa was the only melodrama I thought fit, but the whole Jason Queen record deal thing isn’t really brought up after Season 4. And yeah here Jason Queen’s offer to Musa ends up putting a wedge in their relationship because that means she’ll be staying on Earth while Riven returns to Red Fountain, kinda like a couple separate worldwide which is quite hard for him.

I’m actually not 100% sure if it’s cannon, but it’s cannon in my rewrite soooo yeah

This is a weird one but HEAR ME OUT-

So Duman gets badly hurt and Nabu helps right? I didn’t like the idea of the wizards pretending to be allies before backstabbing the good guys, then Nabu dies and they just became lame. I plan to give most wizards a redemption arc and it starts with Gantlos and Nabu trucing for a bit to find a cure for Duman’s illness (caused by the white circle casting some spell on them, hence why they destroyed the other white circles). Gantlos gets Nabu’s help since he’s a wizard, the most cooperative and it’s the least awkward option. I like to imagine he calls Nabu a rookie in sorcery lmao

That’s it for now, and I have the first 2 episodes done for the rewrite

[allzelemonz]

RDR Multi Pairing Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption Masterlist

For You: Micah Bell/Reader/Kieran Duffy

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘sir’, ‘mister’, ‘feller’, ‘boy’, ‘man’. Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, References to Sex Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Micah is an asshole, Kieran is repressed and shy, Kieran is injured, Micah actually likes his horse, Micah is injured, Baylock is injured, they’re all fine it’s okay, crime, death Summary: Kieran watches you from a distance, but things get bad when Micah notices and even worse when a job goes bad.

Not So Hidden: Bill Williamson/Reader/Kieran Duffy

Pronouns: None mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Voyeurism, accidental voyeur, anal fingering, anal sex, m/m/m, threesome, established relationship with a new third, kissing, cuddling, poly ending Summary: Things seems to be a normal night between you and Kieran, albeit more intimate than initially planned, but then you hear someone watching you.

His Boy: Dutch Van der Linde/Reader/Colm O’Driscoll (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9)

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’, ‘son’, ‘handsome’, ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, dub-con, language Warnings: Mentions of non-con of another character, dub-con, kidnapping, possessive behavior, possessive sex, past relationship, forced cheating, Reader is an asshole O’Driscoll, mentions of past sex, begging, fisting, anal fingering, anal sex, biting, marking, choking, blow job, kissing, lap sitting, dancing, gang family, past relationship, forced cheating, torture, mentions of past Dutch/Hosea, Dutch/Susan, and Dutch/Annabelle Summary: A former flame of Dutch’s is returned and a lot has happened over the years.

No Good, Twisted, Fucking Day: O’Driscoll Boys

Pronouns: he/him Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: E/Smut, rape Warnings: Rape, wound fucking, dead dove do not eat, possessive behavior, outdoor sex, gang bang, anal sex, blood, gore, stabbing, loss of consciousness Summary: Stabbed, hardly aware, and surrounded by strange men that use whatever you have.

Flipped: Sean MacGuire/Reader/Kieran Duffy

Fictober Prompt: Day 16, Gentle threesome, Double penetration Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: threesome, rimming, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, double penetration, fluff, smut, guys being dudes Summary: Sean’s big mouth ends up with you taking both he and Kieran at the same time.

Dare: Van der Linde Boys

Fictober Prompt: Day 17, Multi Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘fella’ and ‘man’, heavy masculine implication Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: (have you ever been in a men’s locker room and things got a little weird), smut, background relationships, masturbation, hand jobs, kissing, oral sex, blow jobs, dirty talk, facial, cum swallowing, Micah being an asshole, flirting, casual sex, everyone is gay but especially Bill Summary: Drunk Sean wanting to get off prompts a dare to jerk off and last longer than anyone else at the fire. Gay chaos of a sort ensues.

Boys’ Night: Van der Linde Boys

Fictober Prompt: Day 31, Orgy Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Orgy, threesomes, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, oral sex, blow jobs, rough sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sean’s drunken mind, marking, viagra-esc tonics, almost everyone is passed around to everyone else, Reader takes both top and bottom roles Summary: Sean has an idea that leads most of the boys in the gang to a damn fun time.

An Omega’s Place (A/B/O)

Pronouns: he/him Primary Sex: AMAB Secondary Sex: Omega Rating: E/Smut, language, noncon Warnings: Noncon, Alpha Colm O’Driscoll, Omega Kieran Duffy, a/o/o, mating cycles/in heat, scenting, kissing, anal sex, hand jobs, forced mating, forced bond, mentions of breeding Summary: O’Driscolls never have treated their Omegas very well, especially not during a rut.

Caught (A/B/O)

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and some Spanish things that might be masculine-ish Primary Sex: AMAB Secondary Sex: Omega Rating: E/Smut, language Warnings: Alpha Micah Bell, Alpha Javier Esquella, Beta Sean MacGuire, a/a/o, threesome, b/o, mating cycles/in heat, scenting, slurs, kissing, anal sex, hand jobs, mentions of breeding, Spanish pet names, Alphas fighting over an Omega, possessive behavior, admission of feelings, open poly ending Summary: Your heat sets in during a job, causing the Alphas to act aggressive to the point of being unable to control themselves. Sean does his best to help out as a Beta, but it’s not quite enough.

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles and Danneel Ackles Panel | Brighton UK (Crossroads 6), March 11, 2023

( sicparvis87 )

Jensen: IT’S ONLY SATURDAY WE GOT A WHOLE OTHER DAY, PACE YOURSELF! (to Danneel) have YOU been pacing yourself? Danneel : No! (x)

“are you ready for this?” - jensen to danneel  (x)

Ok, so. Danneel’s first con was a Starfury. Jensen said she shouldn’t brag. And a bit later Jensen said he had the dancing covered. (x)

“as long as there’s no dancing i’ll be fine” “it’s okay i have that covered”  (x)

“we’ve got to develop some projects currently in development”  (x)

Jensen saying he’s really proud of what they’ve been doing with the Winchesters and what’s in the work.  (x)

“i wanna work with the people i know i trust and who are outstanding human beings”  (x)

Dream projects? Jensen: “Ruth would obviously be the star.” (Ruth is watching from the balcony.) “Oh hey, Ruth, didn’t see you there.” He wants to work with the people he trusts, outstanding human beings. (x)

Jensen: “we’ve had 15 years to weed out the bad people, I’m not sure how Mark Sheppard is still here…”  (x)

Jensen just wants to work with the people he’s got to work with who are just good people. It’s gotta be grounded in love, family, a tad of humor and a little magic.  (x)

“it’s gotta have heart, humour and a little bit of magic” the unofficial tagline of their company  (x)

Jensen helping Danneel count for how many years they’ve been together when she started as Anael on SPN  (x)

How was it working on set. Danneel struggles with how long she’s been together with Jensen. Jensen knows it would’ve been 12 seasons when she came in at 13 and is proud he knows. (x)

Jensen immediately asked “IS THAT ON THE GAG REEL” when Danneel fell during her first scene on SPN  (x)

“i did not act like a husband in that moment” jensen too focused on getting danneels gag reel moment on film instead of helping her  (x)

Danneel put together a whole playlist for The Winchesters before they even cast anyone, and a lot of it actually made it onto the show. They chose “I’d Love To Change The World” which in the pilot FIRST.  (x)

Which scene with music from The Winchesters did they like most? Danneel put together a playlist before they even cast, a lot of it made it on the show. “10 years after”/I love to change the world” (?) really set the tone. (x)  But a lit of songs they wanted were too expensive to afford. On SPN, as production got more expensive, they had to stop using music so much, used more score to save money (x) 

“i get to go and destroy some robots in a warehouse? i’m in. i’m easy” (x)

Jensen is easy. When he heard he gets to come on the set and destroy a bunch of robots, he was in, but doesn’t play a lot of video games. Danneel snitches that he plays Mario Cart with the kids almost daily. (x)

Jensen said he doesn't play video game anymore but Danneel said he plays Mario Kart almost everyday with the kids  (x)

In his old house pre-Danneel he had a special dark room with two TVs and two couches to play Halo with his friends. (Danneel snitches again.) He plays “blue shy guy” on Mario Cart. (x)

Fan asked if Jensen plays video game and Danneel went “well you play one every day���. And Jensen went “Wordle? … BACKGAMMON?!” (The answer is Mario Kart because he plays it with the kids)  (x)

help jensen is so excited to introduce his kids to his fave videos games when they’re older and he also doesn’t always let his kids win video games which danneel finds mean considering he’s competed by 6 year olds (paraphrase)  (x)

“I know your next question, it’s ‘what character do I choose on Mario kart’, the answer is blue shy guy. I’m a shy guy ” (x)

Q person reccs Red Dead Redemption. Jensen really wanted The Last of Us, but when he heard Pedro got the job, he knew he had no shot. (x)

Jensen really wanted to be on The Last of Us, then he heard Pedro Pascal got the part and went “oh no he’s PERFECT” (im paraphrasing but he was nerding out )  (x)

They’re talking about recreating the music video for their anniversary. Their friend did it first as a birthday gag. So he suggested they do it “for instagram”. Danneel was like “let’s go”. and they got into a serious fight over who would be Paul Simon  (x)

Danneel says they do zero work for instagram content. Q was about the music vid years ago. The Ackles’s argued who plays Chevy and who plays Paul Simon. Jensen complains about having to be the short guy again. He’s gonna get a complex. He yells for Mark to come down. (x)

Danneel telling Jensen he was so good on their anniversary video, and telling him “you were made to play Paul Simon”  (x)

“it was very rare for him to be home during the week… for 15 years”  (x)

He also said he was really sad his kids wouldn’t get to experience the whole ‘taking the cartridge off and having to blow on it for it to work again’ (x)

Danneel didn’t wanna be in The French Mistake bc it’s “Jensen’s thing”  (x)

Karaoke. Danneel only did it once. Sang “Band of the run” and there was a very long musical interlude. It scared her so much she never did it again. Jensen went with the Dawson’s Creek gang and sang “El Paso”.  (x)

Everyone put their glass down either in amazement or shock. There’s a plate in a corner of that bar with an etching how great that night was, Jensen jokes. (x)

Editor, director, actor walk into a bar, you can only buy one drink? Danneel: Editor, they can make you look good. Jensen: Would buy himself a drink. (x)

Danneel once got handed a bag with her as a doll filled with fish hooks. She blindly reached in the bag and straight into a hook. (x)

They’re talking about creepy fans, and Danneel just said “they’re not fans of the show, fans of the show don’t do these things”  (x)

danneel is telling a story abt her accepting a gift off a fan of her being made into a doll out of fish hooks and she accidentally got hurt and jensen said ‘you know how much i had to PAY for that doll?!’  (x)

Weirdest thing given to Jen and Dee, someone left a dead kitten on their door step  (x)

jensens talking about how performing radio company concert for the first time was a very different experience to acting or performing other peoples songs bc with those other two you interpret it your own way but it’s still other peoples words but these were his and steve’s  (x)

Playing in Nashville and performing words he actually wrote himself with Steve was “next level”. Danneel adds that he was nervous and he doesn’t get nervous. (x)

“to get out there and perform something you created it’s certainly more of a vulnerability”  (x)

danneel watched the concert with the kids on stageit. “they thought it was cool” (x)

The kids were pretty impressed seeing him on stage, but they see him play a lot, because he plays them songs on the piano at home all the time.  (x)

their kids have watched the scoobynatural episode so many times  (x)

Jensen is talking about fighting to have Dean dying while he was standing instead of how it was originally planned with Dean dying on the floor. (x)

Jensen about Dean’s death: “I don’t have to LIKE it, but I’m proud of it.”  (x)

Jensen would change how they handled the Leviathans and get rid of them sooner if he got to change something  (x)

What would Dean from s15 tell Dean from s4? Danneel: Beware of vampires!  (x)

question about what directors inspired them the most! (Jensen’s answer has been long but he mentioned Kim Manners, Bob Singer and John Showalter)  (x)

jensen ensuring he was conscious of every crew members job so that they felt like they had purpose.  (x)

Kim Manners and Bob Singer, they both set the tone on the show. Micromanaged. Kim said “you’re gonna direct one day” to Jensen and it got him thinking. It was becausehe was interested in the lenses, lighting & such. (x)

Bob and Phil Sgriccia helped him a lot. Phil said “always have an answer, even if it’s wrong.” Because when you say “you pick” or “whatever” to a Q from someone working for you, you dimish the other person’s job. And you can always change your mind & that tells them you thought (x)  about it, thus making their job even more important. (x)

To Danneel; how did you know he (Jensen) was THE ONE? Jensen; *cracks up* Danneel: It was on Ten Inch Hero, I always knew he was cute and all of that, but… It was one of those, we were driving back and forth, and just talking about our future, and our career (x)  Danneel: I’m a girl who likes to do things first. (…) At the end of the movie, there’s a scene where I walked up to Priestly and gave him a kiss… That was NOT scripted.(x)  Danneel: but obviously Jensen had read the script, he knew it wasn’t scripted. I just knew I had to do something else or it would be too late. (x)

danneel knew by the end of filming ten inch hero once they’d spent time doing long drives talking about their futures and everything and then in the scene where she kisses priestly wasn’t scripted and jensen was like “oh!!!!!! i caught a BIG fish let’s go!”  (x)  “i like your talent your cute your-” “you were like this one can give me good kids” “yeah i saw you with your nephews and-“ “and you were like this is a good pedigree!” (x)

J-yeah but after we dated when did you know I was the one to marry They went on vacation and her mum knew then D needed to marry him. J-i knew I needed to spend the rest of my life impressing her  (x)

When did Danneel know that Jensen was the one? They were friends before but thought they would never be together. They carpooled to the Ten Inch Hero set. 40 mins each way, just talking about the future, how they were raised, carreer… (x)  She always knew Jensen was cute, but those talks really did it. In the last scene of the movie, the little kiss between their characters wasn’t scripted, that was Danneel making the first move. (x)  Jensen immediately knew it was a big fish snd went “bzzzz” (reeling in noise). Jensen prods when she knew he was the one to marry though. They went on a family trip. Then Jensen knew he’d spend the rest of his life trying to impress her. Danneel’s mom knew they were it too. (x)

Jensen: “I’m gonna try to impress for the rest of my life… Still hasn’t done it! I’m gonna keep trying to.” (x)

Danneel said she was really nervous up until she did her first photo ops and everyone was so nice to her  (x)

( MurielFPhotos )

[zae-heeyyy]

From the Bottom of My Heart

In real life, I am deeply sentimental and believe everything and everyone has a purpose and a reason for being. I’m known to write very long letters because I just want to make sure I don’t leave anything unsaid. Here goes...

My fiancé bought Red Dead Redemption II for me for our first Christmas together in 2018. My grandad, who loved cowboys had just passed away a month earlier. I didn’t get to actually play the game until March, but I kept thinking about how much I wished my grandad and mom, who also loved westerns, was there to see it. Neither of them were huge fans of video games, but I think we could’ve bonded over this one. They for sure would have laughed at my love for RD now because I was never interested in the various cowboy shows they’d have playing super loud all day long: Bonanza, The Rifleman, Cheyanne, and Gunsmoke. 

I often think about how the game forces you on after the death of everybody especially: Sean, Hosea, Lenny, and Arthur. No chance to stop and catch your breath. I felt similarly after losing my mom and then my grandfather 4 years later. They, and invariably, the loss of them, are part of the reason I feel so strongly towards this game and towards this community. They were my two best friends, the people always in my corner, and I will always always feel their loss, especially this time of year.

That being said, my heart is so full. This is now the 7th Christmas I’ve spent with my lovely lovely husband to be. It's funny; he pretends to (or maybe not so much) get annoyed at my love for Arthur, but he started it all. 

To you, this wonderful community, thank you for helping me find passion again. Creating is what I love to do the most, whether I'm writing, crafting, making silly edits on canva, or drawing up things on procreate. I’ve been writing since learning cvc words. I remember sitting at the kitchen table with a box of crayons and pain paper, making picture books about adventures I'd go on. In middle school, started writing cringe fan fiction about some guys in rock band in , then “matured” to writing and speech competitions in high school. I stopped creatively writing for a long time, and while I’ve been successful with academic writing: placing in competitions, publishing in academic journals, and being published in a book. (Not so humble brag, sorry lol) I did not/ have not gotten as much enjoyment out of that as writing fan fiction and my own original fiction. My biggest dream has always been to publish a novel one day, to tell an amazing story and have it touch people in some way. I've started playing around with my own original fiction ideas again, and it's been so much fun. I look forward to where that goes, even if it just stays on my hard drive.

Thank you, to each and every single one of you, for touching my heart in the way you have. This community is so beautiful, one of the best I’ve ever been apart of, and I hope you feel the love. Happy holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, or Happy December 25 if it’s just a regular day for you. As my mom used to say, I love you to the moon and back.

With lots and lots of love,

Zae

[nomsfaultau]

ok important question

which one of your technos could i probably fight

I’m assuming you want to come out the other side swinging, because truly you could fight most of them and die rather nastily. I’m also going to let the tone of the piece be an influencing factor. Let’s a go:

Fault: You are now a little red smear. The fight is over so fast The Blade doesn’t even register The Blood God took over. For the corollary ‘Where then do your loyalties lie?’ The Blade where he’s like ~14 years old: same but The Blood God has a voice crack while trying to deliver a threatening quip, feels rather embarrassed, and makes your death extra painful. Golden Apples, Gilded Atrophy: The Techno least likely to feel even a hint of remorse. This guy is craaazy he’s waiting for an excuse to murder you, ohh he wants to murder you soo bad- Lord, what fools these mortals be!: He is so ready to throw down, but he’s also like really friendly the whole time? He’s utterly vicious but is funny about it. You’re probably dying to some looney tunes esque nonsense UNLESS you can make your victory funny enough that the absurdist nature of the fic finds a contrived series of wacky events that contribute to your unlikely W. Mandatory Family Reunion: Probably has one of your better chances of fighting, since he’s human and has zero powers. Except the power of knives, which he will possess inordinate amounts of. Likely to lash out really harshly in pure ptsd mode, catch himself halfway through attacking you and have an entire monologue crisis about how he’s inherently violent and corrupted by his various parental figures, there’s no possible redemption if violence has been beaten into his instincts, etc etc angst angst angst. Perfect time to clock him right in the face. This is one Techno guaranteed not to kill you, though he shows serious ingenuity when fighting. However, the MFR universe is stacked against him so you’ll probably win simply for the fact that it would create more Techno angst. The Lambs Wolves Wear: Well Technoblade is debatably a dead corpse being possessed? And is maybe 14? So I feel like you could EASILY take on a skeletal child. However if we’re talking “Technoblade” you’re screwed. One scratch on their vessel and undead legions will be summoned to drag you to hell. Might hesitate since Philza will chastise them later, but will still rip you apart with ghosts. Lighting Lanterns to Bring You Home: Well, he’s a god. So. Good luck buddy ? At the start of the fic he’ll just smite you no questions ask. By the end he might just ignore you while you fruitlessly punch his belly. I suppose if you timed it right before Lady Death killed him for the winter you could technically claim the win, but he’d just be sleeping through your attack before succumbing to the allegory of the seasons, so, wouldn’t feel very satisfying. The Altars We Sacrifice Our Futures On: See above on trying to fight god! But also literally an evil violence deity. So enjoy getting ripped apart by wolves or terrible blood magic. At least, until Techno learns that apparently you’re allowed to kill ABSOLUTELY NO ONE in front of a six year old or they cry. Loudly. There’s snot. At which point he will fume and snarl and seethe and not actually kill you. But he will be EXTREMELY grumpy about it. Absolutely zero chance of winning though he’ll just trap all the blood in your body in a loop that won’t let you die but also won’t let you move. Where do babies come from? You obliterate him. No questions ask. Bro he’s twelve not even a question. All his pent up street kid rage will mean he’s vicious, but like he’s ye high, you’re good. He will bite, but you’ll bite back. Now there is the angle that he literally will never stop trying to defeat you, refusing to give up long past the point a reasonable person would and getting really hurt in the process. But like that’s an unarmed child. Your victory is assured. Philza Minecraft WILL find your location and have a “talk” with you tho. And you are not winning that “conversation”.

[reddorkredemption]

My Blessed Son—Chapter 22

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Summary:

For years, Jack Marston dreamed of killing Edgar Ross, the man who had taken everything from him, who had ruined his life. His obsession with revenge had given him a reason to keep going. But now, after it was done, he was left lost, depressed and without purpose. He was left to navigate life alone with the unforgiving eyes of the law slowly narrowing in on him. Though he soon comes to realize that perhaps he isn’t quite as alone as he thought he would be. A continuation from the end of Red Dead Redemption 1.

Word count: ~9.9k

Chapter under the cut <3

A couple of days came and passed after Jack and Lilly talked with Tommy, and in that time, they hadn’t heard a word from him. While Jack was glad to be free from Tommy’s snarkiness for a few days, the lack of communication was starting to make him anxious. He hated being kept in the dark. 

However, he did his best not to dwell on it. Over those couple of days, he occupied himself by sitting at his desk, continuing to brainstorm ways to gather proof of what had happened to his father. Or trying to, rather. He still wasn’t having much success. 

He had yet to get a response to the telegram he’d sent to Charles, and the only name he’d managed to remember from his father’s journal was the president of Mexico. The thought of trying to get ahold of that guy for help was laughable.

He needed that journal back. He couldn’t believe it, but he was actually eager for Tommy to return.

On the third morning, after another couple hours of going back and forth between staring at a piece of paper and then at the wall, he gave up. He felt he was just wasting time at that point— time that he could’ve been spending on fixing up the ranch.

A large part of him also felt bad that Lilly was doing all of the work around the ranch while he sat around in his bedroom all day. He knew she had volunteered to do it, but when he’d see her at the end of the day, exhausted and covered in dirt, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

So he left his desk, went outside, and tracked her down to see if there was anything he could help her with. She declined at first, but when he insisted on doing something, she admitted that she could use some help moving some hay bales to the corral. That was good enough for him, so he got right to it.

Jack finished the task within fifteen minutes, ending up with red, sore hands from the hay poking his skin. He checked on the horses after, giving them each a few pats on the neck and making sure Lilly had gotten them everything they needed. Of course, she had.

When he was satisfied, he left the corral to find Lilly again. Doing a quick scan of the property, he spotted her standing in the gazebo— it seemed to be a favorite place of hers. She was leaning against the railing and watching a small flock of birds gallivanting around on the ground a few feet in front of her.

He started towards her, taking a wide path out of her sightline to avoid scaring away the birds. When he got to the gazebo, he stepped up into it, the harsh sound of his boot hitting the wood causing the birds to take off. A quiet sigh of disappointment escaped Lilly’s lips as she watched them fly away.

Jack slouched. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking a couple more steps towards her. “I was hopin’ not to scare them off.”

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him and waved off his apology. “That’s okay.” With another wave, she beckoned him to come stand beside her. “I think you’re better company than they are anyway.”

Cheeks flushing, he complied and walked up to the railing. “Not sure most people would agree with that,” he said with a nervous chuckle as he leaned over the rail to look out at the ranch.

She hummed and followed his gaze. “Well, that’s their loss then, isn’t it?”

His face heated up even more, and he gave another awkward laugh. “If you say so.” He reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead then pointed to where he’d moved the hay bales. “I moved those things for you.” 

“I saw.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He straightened up and rested his hands on the railing, tapping his fingers against it. “So… what are you doin’ over here?”

“Just taking a little break,” she answered, shrugging a single shoulder. “I’ll get back to work in a minute.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” he stammered, shaking his head. “You don’t have to leave. I was just wonderin’.”

She chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes at him. “I know that.”

“Oh. Good.”

The conversation lulled, and Jack fidgeted with his hands as Lilly took to silently staring out at the ranch. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way her face gradually fell and gained a hint of sadness. He frowned. That look was becoming far too common for his liking.

Thankfully, her eyes lit up a bit when a few birds returned to continue pecking at the grass in front of them. Jack paused his fidgeting and stood as still as he could, not wanting to scare them off again.

After a few moments, Lilly let out a contented sigh. Without taking her eyes off the birds, she said in the softest voice he’d ever heard her use, “Daddy always loved the birds.”

Jack raised his eyebrows and replied, keeping his voice low, “Oh, uh, that’s nice. They are… pretty neat.” Cringing at his awkwardness, he drummed his fingers against the railing as he tried to come up with a better response. “Um, my pa liked them too. Kinda. He liked to shoot ‘em.”

Lilly paused, her brows briefly twitching inwards. Pressing her lips together, she hummed and gave him a side-eye. “That’s delightful, Jack.” She chuckled and returned her gaze to the birds. “Thank you for that….”

Shit. That wasn’t the right thing to say.

“I-I’m sorry,” he spluttered, his cheeks heating up. “I shouldn’t have— I didn’t—“

She breathed out a laugh as he continued stammering. “It’s okay,” she assured with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It was kinda funny. I wasn’t expecting that.” Turning her head, she gave him a small, brief smile.

Jack bit his tongue, feeling his face grow even hotter despite her reassurances. He swore he ought to just sew his lips shut— nothing good ever seemed to come out of him opening his mouth. He felt the overwhelming urge to go find a shovel, dig himself a hole, hop in, and hide.

But before he could do any of those things, Lilly continued on as if nothing was wrong— just as she always did. He’d never understand why she always gave him a pass like that. And he’d never understand how she could love him despite it. That thought sent his chest fluttering, but the sensation quickly turned into an ache as he remembered he couldn’t be with her in that way. For her sake.

“We had this little garden out the back of our house when I was growing up,” she told him. “He’d spend hours sitting out there, just watching birds.” A wistful smile spread across her face. “He even got a little house for ‘em. Little bright red birdhouse with a black roof.” She shook her head and let out a scratchy laugh, her smile growing more somber. “He loved them.”

She went quiet, her brows drawing together in pain as she watched the birds hopping around in the grass. The ache in Jack’s chest grew.

When she spoke again, her voice was lower: “I think they brought him peace.”

Without thinking, Jack blurted out, “You never told me. What exactly happened to him?”

The second the question left his lips, he regretted it, and that regret intensified when a look of distress quickly settled onto Lilly’s face. She gripped onto the railing and lowered her head, sucking her lips in as if to hold back tears. He was about to take the question back— to tell her she didn’t have to answer and then return to his plan of finding a hole to hide in. 

But before he could utter a word, she answered, her voice small and quiet, “I don’t know. Not exactly.”

The response puzzled him, making him freeze.

She glanced up at him, seeming to note the confusion on his face before looking away again. “He always…” she trailed off, her eyes shifting around as she grasped for the right word. “Struggled.”

Jack’s confusion only deepened, but he stayed silent, not wanting to upset her further with more questions. He would’ve been happy to drop the subject entirely, but Lilly seemed intent on continuing.

“He had a lot of demons in his head, I guess,” she said, followed by a humorless snort. “That’s how my old, Catholic grandmother used to put it anyway.”

Cautiously, he asked, “How you mean?”

“I can’t say exactly. He never really wanted to talk about it or explain it to anyone.” She chewed on her lip. “But I remember him being… scared a lot of the time— for lack of a better word.”

“Of what?”

“A lot of things.” She shook her head. “Getting sick, hurting people somehow…. Those were the biggest things, I think.”

Jack slowly nodded along as she spoke, wondering what all of this had to do with how her father died. He didn’t vocalize that question, however. He chose to wait quietly to see if she would continue.

And she did: “He had a lot of strange little habits because of it. I guess they made him feel better somehow. But he’d get really upset, practically flying into a rage, if anyone— usually my mother— interfered with those things.” Slumping a bit, she broke eye contact with him.

Her breath came out shaky when she opened her mouth to speak again. “Over time, my mother got fed up with him. She’d always rant about how he was out-of-control and embarrassing to her— people in town would talk about how odd he was.” Her voice grew a touch of anger as she spoke, and when she finished, she took a moment to collect herself.

“Then one day, when I woke up, he wasn’t around anywhere,” she said. “I asked my mother where he was, and she sat me down and told me that she’d had him sent to some shifty institution for ‘treatment’. She said she did it to try to help him, but I never believed that. She just wanted to get rid of him.”

Jack widened his eyes, his lips parting slightly in horror. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. 

Lilly took in a slow, deep breath. “The next time I saw him, he was lying in a coffin.” A disturbed look settled onto her face. “He barely even looked like himself anymore. He—” Her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, shaking off the distress on her face. After a moment, she opened her eyes again and finished, “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.” Her lip shook, and she lowered her head. “And I probably never will.”

Jack mirrored her dejected posture, and the pair fell into a somber silence. As the seconds ticked by, he shifted on his feet, wracking his brain to come up with some kind of condolence. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I-If it helps, knowing’s overrated anyway.”

It had never done him any favors, witnessing the horror that happened to his father. He wished he didn’t know what happened. He wished he could forget it. And as much as it shamed him to admit it, there was a part of him that wished his father had never come home from his government escapade at all. That way, none of it would have ever happened. Maybe he’d be better off now. Maybe his mother would still be around.

Lilly sighed, cutting off his thoughts before they had the chance to spiral. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But I wish I could stop wondering. Stop running through every horrible possibility in my head. Just stop thinking about it.” Sniffling, she glanced up at the sky, and Jack could see the sheen of tears forming in her eyes. “I think I’d rather have one specific nightmare about what really happened than a dozen different ones about what could’ve happened.”

Jack nodded, now feeling a twinge of guilt for his response— for thinking it must’ve been easier for her. The pain on her face was proof enough that that wasn’t the case.

“It’s not fair,” she choked. “I don’t know what they did to him, but— but I know he didn’t deserve it.” Her voice broke, and a couple streams of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I never even got to say goodbye.” She let out a cracked, broken sob and placed a hand over her mouth to muffle it. 

Jack watched helplessly, unsure of what to say and knowing that if he did say anything it would most certainly be the wrong thing. His heart ached for her; he swore he could feel it breaking in half. He couldn’t bear to see her so upset. 

Since his lips failed him, he did the only other thing he could come up with: he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She melted into his embrace immediately, nuzzling her face into his shoulder, wrapping one arm around him, and resting a hand on his chest. 

He squeezed her tighter as she broke down sobbing, the heart-wrenching sound muffled by his shoulder. As she cried, he rubbed her back and bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from tearing up too. 

Over time, her cries reduced to whimpers and then sniffles, and he held onto her through it all. As her sniffles grew less frequent, she lifted her head off of his shoulder, tilting her chin up to give him a sad, grateful smile. The proximity of her face to his made his heart jolt and begin to race; he hoped she couldn’t feel it underneath the hand still resting on his chest. Swallowing hard, he returned the smile, and she rested her head back against his shoulder.

They held onto each other for a bit longer until Lilly pulled away, leaving behind a wet stain on his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said, dabbing her cheeks with her sleeve to get rid of the tears on her face. “It just…” Her face contorted in pain again, and she shook her head. “It never stops hurting, y’know?”

“No,” he agreed, bowing his head. “It doesn’t.”

A look of sympathy and understanding crossed her face, and she placed a hand on his bicep, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze. Then, her hand drifted to the wet patch on his shoulder, and she rubbed it with her sleeve in a futile attempt at drying it.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, half-laughing.

He glanced down at his soaked shirt and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

She removed her hand from his shoulder and trailed her fingers down his arm, making him shiver involuntarily. Her hand lingered on his for a few seconds before she pulled away. She gazed up at him, a loving gleam in her eyes that could have melted him on the spot. Then, her eyes flitted over his shoulder, and her expression changed.

“Uh oh,” she said.

“What?” Jack knitted his brows and turned around, immediately finding the answer to that question.

Coming down the dirt road that ran through the ranch was a stagecoach— one of the fancy red ones that drove people into and out of Blackwater. He squinted, attempting to make out the passenger inside, but it disappeared around the back of the house before he could.

“Oh, what now?” he grumbled. “Who is that?”

“I don’t know,” Lilly said. “You know anyone who takes stagecoaches?”

“I don’t think I do.”

The coach stopped in front of the barn, and the driver gave them a small wave. Lilly returned the gesture, but Jack stayed still, holding his breath and keeping his hands at his sides. When the passenger hopped out of the carriage, he slouched and let out a sigh of both relief and annoyance. 

It was Tommy.

“Oh, shit,” Lilly said, facing away from the coach and frantically wiping the remaining tear tracks on her cheeks. 

Tommy nodded in their direction to acknowledge them and then pulled some money out of his coat pocket for the coach’s driver. He handed it to the man then had a brief conversation with him before heading towards the gazebo to join them. 

“Howdy, ladies!” he called out with a smirk as he approached them. “What’s—” He froze the moment his eyes landed on Lilly. The smirk fell from his lips in an instant, and his brows drew together in concern. He jogged the rest of the way towards them.

“Are you crying?” he asked as he stepped up into the gazebo, nudging Jack out of the way to get to Lilly.

“No,” she lied, her voice still scratchy.

He leaned in to look at her face, but Lilly turned her shoulder at him. The concern on his face deepened, and he put his hand on her shoulder, pulling on her to get her to face him. With a quiet sigh of irritation, she complied and turned her body towards him but kept her eyes on the ground. 

In a softer tone, Tommy asked, “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” she mumbled, lifting her chin slightly to look at him.

He studied her for a few seconds and then snapped his gaze to Jack, a bitter fire in his eyes. “What the hell did you do, Marston?”

Jack scoffed and spluttered a bit, taken aback by the accusation. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

Tommy crossed his arms, moving away from Lilly to get closer to Jack. “The hell you didn’t.” 

“I didn’t!”

“He didn’t do anything,” Lilly asserted, rubbing her forehead. “I’m just havin’ a rough day, okay?” She wrapped her arms around herself, averted her eyes to the ground again, and mumbled, “You’re not helping.”

Tommy turned his head to look at her and pressed his lips together, scrutinizing her. She raised her chin and held his gaze until finally, he relaxed a bit.

“He better not’ve,” he said. His eyes returned to Jack, and he leaned in even closer. “I swear to Christ I’d make you regret it.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at him and deepened his scowl. 

Tsking, Lilly latched onto the sleeve of Tommy’s suit and tugged him away from Jack. “What’d you take a coach here for?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “Where’s the car?”

Tommy glanced back at the stagecoach he’d arrived on, which was still parked outside the barn, its driver leaning back and reading a newspaper. He groaned. “The car needs gasoline, and the only place in this shithole town that has it is closed today.” As he spoke, he dug into his pocket, producing a single cigarette and quickly lighting it up. Raising it to his lips, he lamented, “I don’t know how you people survive down here.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just wait ‘til tomorrow to come then.”

He sighed, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “I had to come today; I didn’t wanna waste any time,” he said, glancing back and forth between her and Jack. “And speaking of not wasting any time… we need to head inside and talk for a bit. I’ve done some pokin’ around in town. Might’ve come up with something.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to leave, waving a hand to signal for them to follow.

“We can’t talk here?” Lilly asked, stopping him before he could get more than a couple of steps away.

He looked over his shoulder at her and wrinkled his nose. “No. It smells like shit out here. Now, come on; I can’t keep that coach waiting forever.” With that, he continued towards the house, giving another, more impatient, wave for them to follow him. 

Jack and Lilly lingered in the gazebo, watching as he walked away without another glance back. Jack kept his jaw clenched and his fists balled at his sides, still ticked off that Tommy would assume he had done something to hurt Lilly— and then threaten him for it to boot. How was he supposed to accept help from him when the guy clearly looked at him like he was some kind of monster?

Lilly stayed beside him, and he could see her studying him from out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry about him,” she said, nudging him with her elbow and letting out a short chuckle. “He’s all talk. I’m sure you could snap his skinny ass in half if you really wanted to.”

Jack nodded slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Tommy. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

The response got a laugh out of her, but he couldn’t honestly say that he was joking; after all that man had said, the thought of snapping him in half was a bit too appealing. Still, hearing Lilly laugh so sincerely after he’d seen her so upset just moments earlier warmed his heart and brought a small smile to his face.

He took his eyes off Tommy, who had now made it to the porch, and looked down at her. His heart swelled when he found her looking back up at him, mirroring the smile on his face. It killed him. It killed him how much he loved her, and it killed him that he couldn’t tell her that. 

Suddenly, the smile fell from her face, and her brows knitted together. “Wait,” she said, turning to look at the house, where Tommy had disappeared inside. “Did he just take that cigarette inside?” 

Jack followed her gaze to the front door then shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably?”

She huffed and shook her head. “That bastard…” Glancing back at Jack, she nodded in the direction of the house and then took off, heading speedily towards the front door.  

He took the hint to follow after her.

———

The first thing Lilly did when they got inside was hunt Tommy down in the living room, snatch the still-burning cigarette out of his hand, and shove it into an ashtray on the coffee table. 

After, she crossed her arms and frowned at him. “I thought I said you can’t smoke in here.”

He sighed, frowning at the remains of his cigarette. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

“Well, I didn’t,” she grumbled, fanning the smoke-filled air around them.

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you have an ashtray for if no one can smoke in the house?”

“I didn’t say no one can. I said you can’t.”

He stared at her a moment, deadpan, before flatly asking, “So you just completely made that rule up to piss me off?”

“Well, not quite,” she said. “I made it up to get you to go away, not to piss you off.”

“Okay. Do you still want me to go away?”

“No.”

“Then why are you still standing behind this stupid rule you made up?”

Lilly retorted, “Why do you need a cigarette in your hand at all times?”

As Jack stepped into the living room to join them, he tuned out their bickering and began scanning the room, hoping to spot his father’s journal. Tommy had said he’d give it back, but Jack didn’t see it anywhere. The longer he looked without it appearing, the more concerned he grew.

“Y’know what? Fine,” Tommy said with finality, ending whatever argument he and Lilly were having. “Whatever you say. It doesn’t matter.” He moved over to the dining table and slapped his palm down on top of it. “Come on, you two sit down; we need to talk.”

Lilly followed him, a subtle, self-satisfied smile on her face, and sat down. Jack joined them at the table, continuing to scan the room for the journal as he walked. He pulled out the chair beside Lilly but hesitated to sit down.

Tommy, who remained standing, wasted no time in getting to business. “Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together, “I’ve come up with a plan—”

Jack interrupted, “Where’s my journal?”

Tommy paused, pressing his lips together and blowing an irritated sigh out of his nose. With a roll of his eyes, he pulled one side of his coat open and reached into a large pocket within its silk lining. Slipping the journal out, he stepped closer to Jack.

“There you are,” he said, extending it outwards with a tight-lipped smile. “Safe and sound, as promised.”

Jack took it and turned it in his hands, checking for any signs of damage. Then, he thumbed through the pages, much to Tommy’s annoyance. When he was certain that no harm had been done to the journal, he snapped it shut and asked, “You read it?”

“I did,” Tommy confirmed. 

“And?”

“And…” he drew out the word, his eyes shifting around the room until they landed on Lilly. 

She frowned and quirked a brow at him, an expression that Jack remembered seeing on his mother’s face many times before. An expression that warned the person receiving it to choose their next words carefully.

After holding her gaze for a few moments, Tommy sucked on his teeth and blew a sigh out of his nose. He looked back at Jack, the strained smile returning to his face. “And it was a very interesting story,” he finished. “Very… creative. They could make a book out of it.”

Jack’s brows drew together. “Creative?” he asked. What was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t creative. It wasn’t created. As far as Jack could tell, the story in that journal was as true as the sky was blue. Was Tommy implying that it wasn’t? Did he really still not believe him?

“Yup. Creative.” Tommy cleared his throat and continued on, not allowing Jack to question him any further, “Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve come up with something of a plan to start helping with your little problem.”

Jack didn’t say anything in response. He was too stuck on the comment about his father’s journal and too distracted by the anger that it caused to rise up inside him. Lilly grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle tug. When he looked at her, she gave him a reassuring nod and motioned for him to sit down.

Taking a breath to calm himself, he plopped down in the chair next to her and rested his father’s journal on his lap. 

Once he was settled, Lilly asked Tommy, “What is the plan?”

“I talked to that Archer Fordham guy over the past few days— well, not to him exactly; one of his little lackeys passed words back and forth between us,” he explained.

Jack felt the blood drain from his face. He didn’t know that that was what Tommy was planning on doing when he left them a few days ago. Why would he talk to Fordham? What did he say? Every possible answer to that question made him anxious.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he gripped onto his father’s journal to keep his hands from shaking and asked, “Talked to him about what?”

Tommy studied him for several uncomfortable seconds, his face expressionless. When Jack began to fidget under his gaze, he lifted his chin and plainly stated, “I told him everything.”

Jack blinked at him. “What?”

“Everything you told me.” He crossed his arms. “Everything you did.”

Jack turned to Lilly, a wave of confusion washing over him when she didn’t mirror the same look of horror plastered on his own face. She simply glared at her brother, appearing unimpressed and irritated.

When Jack looked back at him, his stony facade cracked, and he burst out laughing. Putting his palms up, he said in between laughs, “I’m kidding!”

Jack breathed a heavy sigh of relief, rested his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. Meanwhile, Tommy continued chuckling at him.

“My God, kid,” he said. “You are too easy.”

“Stop it,” Lilly snapped. “You think that was appropriate?”

His chuckles died down. “Oh, calm down,” he said, and Jack could almost hear the eye-roll in his voice. “It was obviously a joke. You’d have to be a moron not to get that.” He scoffed. “Of course I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

Jack clenched his fists and slammed them down on the table, startling them. “Then what?” he snapped. “Why’d you talk to him? What’d you say?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows at his outburst and drew back a bit. Lilly rested her hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed it to calm him down. Relaxing his fists, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Don’t worry,” Tommy said. “I didn’t say much. I just got him to agree to a meeting.”

Jack’s eyes shot open, and he bolted upright, making his chair creak in protest. “A meeting?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“Yes, a meeting,” Tommy affirmed with a single nod. “You and I are gonna go down there, sit down with him, and hear what he has to say.”

Jack gaped at him. That was the plan? That had to have been the worst idea he’d ever heard. There wasn’t anything he’d rather do less than talk to Archer Fordham. “No,” he spat, furiously shaking his head. “I don’t wanna talk to that asshole!”

“You aren’t going to talk to him. I am,” Tommy said, his voice growing impatient. “You are gonna sit there, fold your tender little hands in your lap, and keep your mouth shut unless you’re told otherwise.” As he spoke, he patted one of the hands Jack had resting on the table.

“No,” Jack repeated, swatting him away and pulling his hands off of the table. “I’m not doing it. There’s no point in it; I don’t care what he’s got to say. Talking to him ain’t gonna help me none.”

“It might,” Tommy countered. “You’d be surprised how many things can just be talked out.”

Jack scoffed. “You told me the other day that I shouldn’t talk to anyone,” he reminded him. “Now, all of a sudden I’m gonna ‘talk things out’ with Archer Fordham?”

“Again, you aren’t. I am.” Sighing, he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Y’know, if you could actually listen to me instead of jumpin’ straight to losing your fucking mind, that’d be great.”

“I’m not—”

“Jack,” Lilly muttered, making him pause to look at her. “Try to hear him out, okay?”

“But—”

“I know,” she said, leaning closer to him and resting her hand on his knee. “But it might help. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

Jack pursed his lips and stared back at her, unconvinced. She squeezed his knee, maintaining eye contact with him and giving him a pleading look. His resolve quickly crumbled under her stare, and he huffed and slouched in his seat. 

“Fine.” He rubbed his temple. “I’ll go. I guess.”

Lilly smiled at him and gave his knee another squeeze before pulling away.

“Good. Thank you,” Tommy said, nodding at Lilly. “Anyway… I didn’t just want to talk to him. That was only half the plan.”

Jack mumbled, “Is the other half less terrible?”

His complaint received a brief scowl but was otherwise ignored. “I also need to get more information. All I know is what you told me, and that’s not good enough. I need to know what all they know.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I highly doubt they’re going to just hand that information over to me; I’m just some asshole from up north as far as they’re concerned. To be honest, I was sorta surprised that he agreed to meet with the two of us at all. He must be pretty desperate for a chance to talk to you.”

Jack squirmed. He was well aware of that. Fordham was likely salivating at the thought of getting him to incriminate himself somehow.

Tommy shook his head. “But I’m getting off track.” He clapped his hands together and explained, “Typically, they keep a file of all of the information they have on a case. I imagine he’ll probably have it with him while we’re— while I’m— talking to him. I’m gonna get ahold of it and look through it. That way, we’ll have a little more information to work off of going forward, just in case ol’ Fordham isn’t too keen on talking things out.”

“How do you expect to be able to do that?” Jack asked.

Lilly chimed in, sharing his skepticism, “Yeah. What are you gonna do? Knock him over the head and read it while he’s out?”

Jack couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the mental image of that.

“No,” Tommy said, half-chuckling. “As satisfying as that might be, I’m not sure it would go over very well.”

“So what’s the big, genius plan for that then?” she asked.

“I need someone to distract him and get him out of the room long enough for me to get what I need.” He stepped closer to the table and leaned over it, resting his palms on top of it. “My idea was to have them come in while we’re there and demand to speak to whoever’s in charge— which would be him— about some petty crime that was committed against them. And be really persistent about it so he can’t refuse.” Giving Lilly a pointed look, he added, “That’s where I need your help.”

“What?” Lilly sat up straighter, startled. “You want me to do that?”

He blinked at her a few times and then laughed. “No, of course not! God, that’s a horrible idea,” he said. “You already tried talking to them once, and we all witnessed how that went. That’s how I got dragged into this mess. Why would I give you the chance to fuck up talking to them again?”

Lilly’s shoulders slumped, and her cheeks flushed. “Wow, okay…” she murmured, bowing her head. 

Jack frowned, feeling a twinge in his heart seeing her upset by his harsh words. Maybe he was right about it not being the best idea for her to talk to the agents, but he didn’t have to be such an asshole about it.

“Adding to that,” Tommy continued, “they’d definitely recognize you at this point. They aren’t that stupid.”

She slouched further in her chair, looking like she wanted to disappear. The twinge in Jack’s chest turned to anger. 

Giving Tommy a steely glare, he sternly interjected, “I think she gets it. You don’t need to ‘add to that’. You’re just being an asshole.”

Lilly perked up a bit and lifted her head to give him a look of gratitude. Tommy raised his eyebrows and took his palms off the table, standing up straight. He studied Jack for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. Jack braced himself for some stupid, sarcastic remark to come out of his mouth, but to his surprise, Tommy raised his hands in defeat.

“Okay. Perhaps I was a little harsh. I apologize,” he said, placing one of his hands on his chest. “But the point still stands. I don’t want you talking to any of those agents ever again.”

“Okay,” Lilly agreed, a hint of dejection remaining in her voice despite Tommy’s apology. “What do you want me to do then?”

“I need you to find me someone who can do it,” he answered. “Someone trustworthy who won’t ask too many questions. You’ve told me you talk to some of those girls who work at the saloon. One of them would be perfect if you know of one.”

She thought for a moment, chewing on her lip. “I don’t know about the saloon girls— we’re only really acquaintances— but there is one who works at the hotel that I’m friendly with. She might be willing to do it, but you'd probably have to pay her.”

“That’s fine. I can do that,” Tommy said. “You’re sure you trust her?”

“Yes,” she affirmed. “She’s always been very nice to me— and helpful too. I was struggling to find work a while ago. She gave me advice and tried to help me… find a way to make money.”

Jack’s stomach sank. One of the working girls had been giving her advice on how to make money? He didn’t like the implications of that. He knew that that had been a road Lilly was heading down, but hearing how close she’d gotten to doing it made him sick.

Tommy froze, seeming to pick up on it too. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “Find a way to make money how exactly?”

Lilly’s eyes widened briefly as she realized her mistake. She lowered her head and didn’t respond, but her silence was enough of an answer.

“Oh, my God, Lilly.” He groaned and slapped his hand against his forehead. “Why on earth would you ever consider doing something like that? I can’t believe you would disrespect yourself in that way! If you needed money that badly, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you insist that you were doing fine? I could’ve helped you!”

She pursed her lips. “God, Tommy, I don’t know,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why wouldn’t I want to ask you for help?”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

She shouted back, “Because you’re an asshole!”

Tommy scoffed. “I can’t believe you. You refused to ask for help, for what? For your pride?” He sighed and rubbed his temple. “You better not’ve actually—”

“I didn’t! Jack invited me to stay on the ranch, so I didn’t end up havin’ to,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching. “The problem solved itself; I didn’t need your help.”

“Oh, so you just became his personal whore instead, then?” He shoved a finger in Jack’s direction.

Lilly’s mouth fell open in horror, and Jack’s face flushed.

“No!” she exclaimed, slapping a hand down on the table and standing up out of her seat. The chair nearly toppled over behind her. “I help with the ranch chores. I have a job playin’ the piano at the saloon a few times a week. I work! Hard.” She jammed a thumb at her chest. “And I’ll have you know, a majority of the money that we’ve been living off of recently was made by me.” 

Suddenly, her face softened, and she turned her gaze to Jack. Speaking to him in a much lighter tone, she added, “No offense or anything, Jack. I don’t mind that.”

He stared at her, eyes wide and face still beet red from Tommy’s comment. He couldn’t argue with her anyway; it was true. For the past couple of weeks or so, all of the money they’d spent had been from her job at the saloon.

Tommy gave a contemptuous laugh. “So what? You’re his new mommy or something?”

“Stop it! You aren’t funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny!”

Jack shrank back in his chair and tried to tune the noise out as they continued to bicker louder and louder. The seconds droned on as they showed no signs of stopping, and he fought the urge to cover his ears. 

Unable to take it any longer, he found his voice and yelled over them to change the subject, “When’s the meeting?”

They froze, going quiet immediately, and shifted their gaze to him. Lilly then looked back at Tommy for the answer.

Still breathing heavily from their argument, he answered, “Tomorrow. At two-o-clock.”

“What!?” Jack and Lilly exclaimed in unison.

Wonderful. Not only did he have to talk to Fordham, he had to do it tomorrow. He thought he’d at least have a few days to prepare. 

“That’s not a lot of time, Tommy,” Lilly said. “What—”

“It’s plenty of time,” Tommy countered. “I wanna get this shit over with as soon as possible so I can go home.” He gestured at Jack. “Why do you want more time anyway? So you can spend days losing your mind over it?”

Jack looked down in thought. He supposed that was true. Given too much time before the meeting, he’d likely only worry himself sick. But he still would’ve liked a little more time to mentally prepare; it was barely over twenty-four hours away.

“Well, we still need to find out whether my friend can help us or not,” Lilly reminded him. “You didn’t leave much time for that.”

“Y’know what? You’re right. That’s a great point,” Tommy said. “In fact, we should get going into town to find her now. I’ve kept that coach waiting outside for too long.”

Lilly sighed. “Fine. I guess we kind of have to.” She put her hands on her hips and turned to Jack. “Do you want to come?”

He declined. His head was already throbbing from being stuck in the middle of their arguing. The last thing he wanted to do was be stuffed into a stagecoach with Tommy. Besides, now that he had his father’s journal back, he was eager to go through it. Maybe he’d finally be able to find something of use from it. 

“Alright then.” She nodded. “I’ll be back by tonight, I’m sure.”

She stepped away from the table and carefully pushed her chair back in. Then, she approached Tommy. “Let’s go get this over with,” she said with a sigh, waving him towards the exit.

He snorted. “Try not to sound too excited.”

Not acknowledging his joke in the slightest, Lilly started down the hallway leading outside. Tommy clicked his tongue and followed. Jack stood up, tucking his father’s journal under his arm, and followed after them to see them out the door.

As they reached the middle of the hall, Tommy stopped suddenly and turned around to face Jack. “Oh, one more thing,” he said. “I’m gonna be back here early tomorrow so we can all get ready. I need you to look presentable.” He paused and looked him over, a displeased expression on his face. “As presentable as you can, anyway.”

Jack scowled.

“I’ll bring you something nice to wear. You just find some time to bathe before then, yeah?”

Jack remained silent, deepening his scowl.

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll take that as a yes.” He gave Jack a swift slap on the shoulder. “See ya tomorrow, Jackie.”

With that, he joined Lilly by the door and slipped past her to go outside. As he did so, he muttered to her, just loud enough for Jack to overhear, “You better make him take a bath later.”

She rolled her eyes at him then gave Jack an apologetic glance before following him out the door, shutting it behind her.

As he was left alone in the house, every tensed muscle in his body relaxed. He never would’ve thought he’d be grateful for the silence. Pulling the journal out from under his arm, he headed into his bedroom to get to work.

———

Jack sat down at his desk and flipped open the journal, skipping right to the portion written after they were taken by the government. He avoided reading the first few pages he came to. They were full of heartbreaking entries from his father and too painful to read.

He started at a few entries written about the Macfarlanes, detailing how they’d saved him and how he’d been helping them out in return. Jack only quickly skimmed through them. There was nothing in there that he didn’t already know— or that Bonnie couldn’t tell him. 

A subsequent entry, however, stood out to him, making him slow down. It was about his father meeting with the marshal in Armadillo and helping him out. Jack vaguely remembered reading this part when he’d first read through the journal a few years ago, but most of the details had been overshadowed in his mind by everything that came after.

He carefully read through the entire series of entries featuring the marshal, coming out of this effort with the man’s full name, Marshal Leigh Johnson. Another detail that caught his attention was that the marshal had apparently been in contact with the bureau agents during that time, and they’d spoken to him about his father’s predicament. 

Jack wondered if there might be any record of those communications. Preferably something physical, as that was what Tommy said he needed. A record from a sheriff’s office would surely be enough to prove that everything he’d said was true.

He didn’t want to travel all the way to Armadillo, however, especially when he didn’t know for certain whether they had anything that could help him. After a moment of thought, his eyes flitted over to the telephone on his desk, and it dawned on him. He didn’t have to go all the way down there to ask.

Not giving himself a chance to second-guess himself, he leaned forward and picked up the telephone.

After a short wait, the voice of the operator came through: “Number, please?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Who are you trying to reach?”

“The sheriff’s office in Armadillo. New Austin.”

“Right. One moment, please.”

The line went quiet again as Jack waited to be connected to the sheriff’s office. He drummed his fingers on the desk as minutes ticked by. 

Finally, there was a click and then a man’s voice came through the phone, “Armadillo Sheriff’s Office. This is J. Morris speakin’.”

“Hello,” Jack said. “Um, is there any way I could talk to Marshal Johnson?”

“Leigh Johnson?” the man clarified, his voice rising in surprise. “Nah. He went and retired earlier this year. Ain’t been in town for ages now.” 

Jack slouched and sighed into the receiver. Of course the guy retired. That’s just his luck….

“Why you ask?” the man asked. “Who is this?”

Jack hesitated, unsure of what to say now. His plan to talk to Marshal Johnson had already fallen through. However, he supposed he didn’t have to talk to the marshal. All he needed was some record of what happened to his father; it didn’t matter who he got it from.

So he decided to ask the man on the phone. “Did you know John Marston?”

“Ah, yeah, I guess. I never talked to him, but I sure heard about him. He was runnin’ around these parts a few years back, gettin’ into all sorts of shenanigans.” He paused and then asked again, “What is this about?”

“I’m… researching him for something,” Jack answered cautiously. “And I heard that he worked with Marshal Johnson in 1911. I was wondering if you had any record of any of that. Any documents or… anything that I could look at?”

There was a long pause, and Jack almost thought the man had hung up on him. But then, he blurted out in a much less friendly tone, “Are you with the federals or somethin’?”

Jack scoffed and furrowed his brows at the phone. “What? No,” he replied. “Why?”

“Mhm…” the man hummed skeptically, the sound coming out garbled. “What exactly are you researchin’ for then? And who the hell are ya?”

Jack pulled the telephone away from his ear, taken aback by the man’s shift in demeanor. Why was he so suspicious of him all of a sudden? Why would he think he was a government agent?

When Jack didn’t respond, the man scoffed, “You know we ain’t got any of those papers. Your boys from Blackwater took ‘em all. You can tell your boss to come and check for himself if he don’t believe it.”

“My boss? What? I’m not with the federals!” Jack insisted, growing angry— being accused of being a government agent was the worst insult to him. “My name is Jack Marston. John Marston was my father.”

He breathed heavily into the phone as there was another long pause. 

“Really?”

“Yes! I’m not no fucking government agent.” Jack bit down on his tongue the moment the words left his mouth. He could hear the voice of his mother in the back of his head, scolding him for swearing. Apparently, Lilly and Tommy’s vocabulary was starting to wear off on him. He continued, “I hate those assholes. They killed my father!”

“Alright, alright,” the man said. “I believe ya. I’m sorry. Those assholes, as you say, are always breathin’ down our necks about something, so I can’t never be too careful.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “What do you want records for?”

The man’s apparent dislike of the bureau agents gave Jack the confidence to answer honestly this time: “I want proof of what they did to my father. To my whole family. People don’t believe me when I tell them.”

The man hummed sympathetically. “I see.” He sighed. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t really help you there. We ain’t got any record of anything from 1911. A couple of those bigwigs from Blackwater made us hand ‘em all over to them a while back.”

Jack groaned. “Of course they did.”

He should’ve known that the bureau would try to cover their tracks. He remembered what Tommy had said: if word ever got out about what the government had done to his family, heads would roll. Clearly he was right. Why else would they be trying to hide what they’d done?

“Although…” the man on the line continued, lowering his voice. “You didn’t hear it from me, but the ol’ marshal did used to keep a personal copy of everything for himself— just in case.” 

Jack perked up at that. “He did?”

“Yup. He didn’t have much trust in them government boys not to try any funny business. Nor do I for that matter,” he answered, now whispering. “I ain’t sure if he’s still got ‘em, but you can try to track him down and ask him if ya like. I believe he moved up to Strawberry. That’s about all I got though.”

“That helps!” he said, feeling a new surge of hope. “T-Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” the man replied. “Now, I gotta hang up. The county don’t like payin’ for these long telephone calls. Good luck to ya.”

Jack said goodbye to the man, thanking him again, and hung up the telephone. Feeling energized by this new development, Jack snatched up his pen and added a new name to his list: Leigh Johnson — Strawberry.

As he finished scrawling down the name, there was a knock on the front door. The noise made him jump a bit, and he dropped his pen down on the desk. He froze in place, his heart rate increasing, until another knock echoed through the house. Cursing under his breath, he quietly scooted away from his desk, stood up, and tip-toed to the window. 

Careful to keep his body mostly out of view of the window, he pulled back the curtain and peeked outside. There was a man standing on the porch with a bag slung over his shoulder, wearing the typical uniform of a telegram messenger. He held a small slip of paper in his hand, which Jack could only assume was a telegram.

He relaxed, his anxiety turning to excitement. It must’ve been a reply from Charles. Abandoning the window, Jack rushed out of his bedroom and to the front door.

As he swung the door open, the messenger gave him a bright smile. “Hello, friend!”

Stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind him, Jack greeted him back.

“I’ve got a telegram for a”— he paused and held up the telegram in his hand to read the name— “John ‘Jack’ Marston? Is he around?”

“That’s me,” Jack told him.

“Well, alrighty!” Giving a single nod, the man pulled out a pen and a form and handed them to him to sign for the telegram. After he’d given his signature, the man gave him the telegram, cheerily told him to have a nice day, and continued on his way.

Remaining on the porch, Jack turned it over and read it immediately. As he’d hoped and suspected, it was a short response from Charles Smith. It read:

JACK

WILL SEND LETTERS. ARE YOU ALRIGHT? CAN CALL IF NEED ANYTHING.

A telephone number was inscribed on the next line, followed by Charles’s name to sign off the telegram.

His feet started moving automatically back to his bedroom, and he nearly tripped over himself as returned to his desk. He threw himself down in his chair and picked up the telephone again, shaking his leg as he waited for the operator to answer. When she did, he read off the number on the telegram, stumbling over his words a few times in his haste. 

It took ages to connect, and the shaking of his leg intensified with every passing minute. He froze when there was finally an answer, and a voice came through the line, simply saying, “Charles Smith.”

His voice was fuzzy due to the phone but still familiar. 

“Charles,” he sputtered, not knowing what else to say. “I-It’s Jack.” 

“Jack. I got your message.” He sighed, and his voice became softer. “It’s good to hear from you. I’m sorry about your mother.”

Jack’s breath caught, the mention of his mother smacking him hard in the chest. “Me too,” he said, his lip quivering. “She— She deserved better.”

“She did,” Charles agreed. “How have you been holding up?”

Jack took a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to answer that,” he said. “I guess I’m trying. That’s better than I was doing a few months ago. I was a wreck right after she died.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Don’t be. I understand.”

The two went quiet for a moment until Charles spoke up again: “I sent those letters you asked for.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. “I really appreciate it.”

“What did you need them for?”

He hesitated to answer. “I… got myself into some trouble recently,” he admitted. “But I’m handling it— trying to, at least. I don’t wanna say too much, but I’m hopin’ those letters might be able to help me get out of it somehow.”

“Trouble?” Charles echoed. “Are you okay?”

Chewing on his lip, Jack answered, “I am right now, but later? A few weeks from now? I don’t know. The law’s not happy with me….”

“Do you need help?”

“No, I’m handling it,” he repeated, an edge of defiance sneaking into his voice. He didn’t want Charles to come help him; he didn’t want him to see the extent of the mess he had made for himself. He lived with enough shame already.

“I have a friend helping me; he’s a lawyer. Well, he isn’t my friend, actually; I think he hates me,” Jack explained. “But he’s the brother of my friend, Lilly. He’s only helping me ‘cause she begged him to.” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“You made a friend?” Charles asked, and Jack couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by how surprised he sounded. “That’s good. Your mother wanted you to get out and talk to people more.”

“Yeah. I think Ma would’ve liked her a lot. And Pa too,” Jack replied. “She likes books and plays the piano and violin. She’s really good at it too. And she’s so sweet— so much sweeter than I deserve. And—” He cut himself off, blushing as he realized how he was raving about her.

Charles hummed. “You speak very fondly of her.”

“Yeah….”

Charles was quiet for a moment. “Is there a… reason for that?”

Jack’s cheeks heated up more. He was so transparent, wasn’t he? Even over the telephone. He let out a heavy sigh and rested his free hand against his forehead. “...I love her.”

Finally saying that out loud to someone made his chest feel a bit lighter. Keeping it in all this time had been torture.

“Does she know that?” Charles asked.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe,” he stammered. “I’m pretty sure she feels the same way, but… I can’t tell her.” He slouched, his chest beginning to ache. “We can’t be together like that.”

“Why not?”

“The trouble I’m in right now…. Let’s just say it could end up really bad,” he said. “I don’t wanna hurt her. After Pa died, Ma was—” His voice broke as he recalled his mother’s anguish. “She was never the same. I can’t risk Lilly endin’ up feelin’ the way Ma did if something happens to me. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“Hmm. I get that,” Charles responded. “But I think leaving things unsaid would end up hurting a lot worse. That’s been my experience.”

“I don’t know….”

“Believe me.” Charles’s voice turned somber. “It’s the worst kind of grief. Even worse than the loss. Thinking about everything you should’ve said. Wondering what could’ve been….”

Jack went quiet. He hadn’t thought about it that way, but Charles had a point. There were so many things he wished he’d said to his parents before they died, and the fact that he would never get to say them made their deaths so much harder to handle. 

Maybe he wasn’t protecting Lilly as much as he thought he was.

Charles spoke again, “You know her better than I do, so do what you think is right.” He paused. “But really think about it, okay?”

Jack looked down and nodded. Upon realizing that Charles couldn’t see him, he replied, “Okay…. I will.”

“Good,” Charles said. “Now, about this trouble you’re in…. I don’t like the sound of it.”

Lifting his head, Jack repeated once again, “I’m handling it.”

“Okay, but if there comes a time where you feel like you can’t handle it anymore, let me know. I’ll find a way to help you. You can come stay up here if you need to get away.” After a brief pause, he added, “You’re not alone. Don’t forget that.”

Those words nearly brought tears to Jack’s eyes. He’d felt so alone in the world after his mother died. Hearing that that was never truly the case made his heart swell. “I know,” he said, fighting to keep from choking up. “I’ll let you know if I need help. I promise.”

“Okay. Good,” Charles said with finality.

They continued to talk for a short while longer, speaking of lighter things. Charles told him about what he’d been up to with his family in Canada since the last time they’d spoken. Jack told him about his efforts to get the ranch back up and running, which Charles expressed the utmost support for. When the conversation was exhausted, they hung up, but not before Jack gave another promise to not hesitate to reach out for help in the future if he needed it. 

After the telephone was down, he stayed seated, staring blankly at it with a barrage of thoughts running through his head. Most of all, he was stuck on what Charles had said about leaving things unsaid with Lilly. He thought that keeping his distance would protect her from being hurt in the future, but Charles’s words were making him doubt that. Perhaps doing that would only hurt her more in the end….

Clearly, he had some things to reconsider.

[dem0nguy]

Guys, guys I did a thing

I made another AU (someone needs to stop me)

Ok for context first, I recently got red dead redemption (absolutely love the game btw) and the first thing I thought of while playing it was “huh, so what if I put Sheriff and Shooter in there…”

And that brings us to present day, Mutant Busters Red Dead Redemption AU:

I’ll just start off with Sheriff bc, why not?

So Sheriff in rdr is a U.S. deputy marshal, and the Sheriff of a small county in New Austin. Everyone there just calls him Sheriff, but they do know his name is Jim.

His arm is actually fine in this AU, he doesn’t have any problems with it. But in undead nightmare he had to cut off his arm. (Reference to Bagel’s ZA! AU)

Sheriff has ancestors from Ireland (explaining his red hair), who moved to the U.S. bc of the economic opportunity there. He is routinely persecuted for his heritage (bc the U.S. hates immigrants.) But because he is a lawman, most people can’t do much besides insult him.

Ryan went missing years ago, and Sheriff initially set out to find him. But he didn’t get very far, and decided to settle down as a Sheriff to try and help the people that are still around.

Shooter is an infamous bounty hunter, he got his nickname because of how trigger happy he is. And doesn’t typically tell people (especially lawmen) his real name. He’s well known for how quickly and efficiently he deals with bounties. He typically kills the person he’s hunting, except on few occasions where he needs them alive.

He clears out bounties faster than they come in, annoying a lot of other bounty hunters. So he tends to travel from county to county, clearing out bounties and trying not to piss off too many people.

He’s gets a lot of money from these bounties, and usually spends it on gambling.

Shooter has ancestors from Japan, who left for America after Japan came out of isolation. He knows a little Japanese from his parents, but doesn’t use it often. He is also occasionally persecuted, but not as often as Sheriff.

Shooter was attacked by wolves years ago, which left him with a torn ear, blind eye, and scars across his face and left arm.

He jokingly flirts with Sheriff a lot, but gets incredibly flustered when Sheriff flirts back. (Also they fall in love, because I’m obsessed with these gays and take any opportunity to make them kiss/hj)

After a gang long thought to be dead comes out of hiding, Shooter decides to go after them. Sheriff, realizing this is the same gang he thought took his brother. Joins up with Shooter. But they quickly realize this gang has been planning something huge, and they can’t handle it all by themselves. So they seek out help from a local scientist and his kids (White, Vegan-Su, BP), and an opposing gang leader (Brutux).

The gang is lead by Wart and Verruca, and they’ve been holding Ryan captive for years trying to get information out of him. Their big plan is to set an attack on the bigger counties and try to drive out all the people so they can implement their own government.

I based both Sheriff and Shooter’s designs after aspects of John Marston, just for funsies.

I could see one interaction between Sheriff, Shooter, and Marston. Where Marston joins the two at a small campsite they set up, and they talk about how strangely similar they are. Then they probably send Marston on a side quest to get a gun or something for them.

Ight that’s all I got, I might expand on what would happen with them in rdr undead nightmare. But yeah :3

( @polarized-here some more things to think about in your free time :D)