#and after that we’re gonna watch 1899

[claudiaeparvier]

are you going to watch Mayfair Witches?

idk probably

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 9: Pistol Packin’ Mama

September 1899

Shady Belle, Lemoyne

They’d gotten her boy back.  Waking up to see him asleep there, curled in on himself, felt like a miracle.  Even more of a miracle that they all stayed together now in one room, her and Jack and John, that John had admitted he wanted to try to be a family.  

Everything she’d wanted for nearly five years now, ever since she knew she was pregnant.  Everything she’d begged and pleaded and shouted and nagged at John for, over and over.

And the price that got paid for it was her son being kidnapped by some Italian thug.  Looking at Jack there asleep in the early morning light, her throat felt tight with the effort of holding back tears, both of relief and of fear and guilt.  Jack seemed to think nothing of it.  Bronte had treated him kindly enough, and he didn’t seem to realize he’d been in danger.  She blessed God or whatever might be out there for that.  

The price was paid, not by her will, but she couldn’t help but think it was too high.  She looked at Jack sleeping and didn’t worry just about his future now with things going crazy in the gang as they did, she had notions in her head of him being snatched again, of him being killed.  A little boy made for a hell of a bargaining chip.

John had assured her it would never happen again.  “We’re gonna watch him like hawks, Abigail.”

Dutch had assured her it would never happen again.  “Of course he’ll be safe.  You think we wouldn’t take care of him, especially after what happened?”

Arthur hadn’t made any glib assurances, said only, “Take care of the boy, he’s safe now.”  There was a flicker of something in his eyes now, something painful and fearful, some old loss that she’d long sensed, especially in some of his reactions to Jack being in any danger before from far more ordinary things. Something he’d never, ever talked about, and she suspected he never would.  But seeing that fear in him only quietly confirmed her own dread.

She could ask him.  But it was always complicated with Arthur in some ways, asking him for yet another favor over and over, and seeing that ache within him helped make her decision.  She wouldn’t put this on his shoulders.  He already looked so tired these days.

So she went to Sadie Adler instead.  She’d come out of what had happened to her fierce and determined, and Abigail needed some of that fire herself.  So standing there with their morning coffee, just the two of them, Abigail put it to her plain.  “I want to learn to shoot.”

Sadie took a thoughtful sip of coffee.  Didn’t ask why.  But Abigail found herself rushing ahead with her explanation all the same.  “All these men are telling me it’ll be just fine, Sadie.  Not to worry.  They’ll protect Jack, and me.  They’re…they don’t understand it.”  Sadie would, she thought. Sadie knew what it was like to have her safety ripped away from her.

Sadie eyed her, and nodded, her hazel eyes softening.  “You know how it is.  Too many men are gonna hurry to tell you ‘Don’t worry, angel, I got you, I’ll protect you’, and you shouldn’t need to fight for yourself.  Yeah, well, piss on that.”  She finished her coffee off.  “Way I see it, you been fighting for Jack and yourself all this time.  Putting a gun in your hand ain’t gonna change much about that.”

“I don’t want to do it around camp.  Everyone’s gonna have an opinion, you know?”  And too many of them would hurry to bind her up again in the silken ribbons of a woman’s expected place, waiting on a man.  She finally had John, and she felt so glad of it, but she was so Goddamn done waiting on a man.  Any man, at all.  John and Arthur had brought him back, yes, but the men of this gang lost him in the first place.  Never again.    

“Course they will.  And it ain’t no business of theirs.  So let’s head out today.  I’ll tell them we’re doing the shopping.  We’ll get that done, but we’ll find somewhere to teach you besides.”

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thanks, Sadie.  You’re a good friend.” 

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 5 (2/3)

I have finally decided I’m gonna play the game for a fourth time and take some good (at least I hope they’ll be good) pictures. I want to post pictures. Interesting pictures. I have no idea of what kind of photos should I take.

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/638598893496631296/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-5-13

Chapter 5 (2/3) - A little trip

Words: 3k

In the meantime, Charles had come back and stopped his horse right in front of her, who, in some kind of involuntary reflex, took a step backwards. 

“Here, you see? You have nothing to be afraid of. She’s calm and completely under control. Touch her.”

“W-what?”

“Come on, stroke her. Here on the neck” said Charles showing her how to do it.

Emily felt her heartbeat speed up as she took a step towards that big creature. She was really doing it, she was really about to touch a horse. Well, technically, she had already touched one, the night they had brought her to camp, but now she was doing it intentionally. 

She expected everything from horses but being so soft. They really had the smoothest kind of hair and this new unexpected sensation pushed her to keep touching it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked a familiar voice.

Emily turned her head to look at Arthur and with a thin whisper, just like she was afraid she would have troubled the horse if she spoke too loudly, she said: “I’m touching a horse!”

“What, you never…”

But Arthur had no need to ask it, he could perfectly tell she had never touched a horse from the way she was doing it.

“Not like this” he sighed coming closer and throwing away his cigarette.

“You always have to keep her calm, so use all your hand, like this” he said patting the horse’s neck and Emily couldn’t not notice how big his hands were.

She followed his example, but the horse, with all those hands on it, for a moment felt irked and shook its big neck. Emily gasped and took a step back, withdrawing her hand like a shellfish inside its shell. 

“Shh shh shh. Easy. You have nothing to worry about, really. She’s the quietest horse on earth” said Charles.

“It’s a she? What’s her name?” asked Emily.

“Taima.”

“I’ve never seen a horse with all these strange colors” she stated touching a lock of the horse’s mane.

Taima was brown, a little bit reddish, black, white, grey, spotted, plain. She looked like a Picasso of colors.

“This breed generally is” answered Charles.

“Breeds? There are horses breeds?”

Arthur and Charles exchanged a puzzled look before they both looked at her.

“Sorry, stupid question. From the way you’re looking at me I guess there are horses breeds.”

After a moment of silence, Emily took a step away and said: “okay, thank you Charles.”

“What, you’re done? You don’t want to mount up?” he asked.

Emily froze. 

“What? No no no. Never.”

“You have to learn if you want to move around here.”

“I don’t need to. I can use the wagons.”

“A wagon is far slower and catches more attention. Charles is right: you should learn” said Arthur.

“I will never get on one of these things.”

“It’s easy. Show her, Arthur.”

Emily withdrew as she watched Mr. Morgan put both his hands on the saddle and a foot in the stirrup.

“If you want to sit straddle, you do this way” he said hoisting up and sitting on the back of Taima.

“But if you wear a dress and you want to sit like a lady… Charles would you help her?”

Charles walked by her side and did as to take her by her waist, but she took a step back and shook her head.

“No, no, really…”

“We’ll be right here. Nothing will happen” Charles reassured her.

“And I’m staying on the horse with you” added Arthur looking at her from above.

Emily felt something moving inside her stomach: he was staying with her on the horse. She walked towards Charles’s hands who in a blink of an eye raised her and she found herself on a pretty hard saddle and with her face very close to Arthur’s. He smelled of tobacco.

“See there’s nothing to worry about. When you’ll start to feel comfortable on a horse, Charles here can teach you how to ride.”

“Can’t you teach me?” she asked naively. 

Arthur’s eyes met hers and for a second all around her slowed down.

What was she doing? Was she really starting to like him? An outlaw, a criminal, a man who was at least ten years older than her?

He chuckled and looked away.

“I can’t, Miss. I’m leaving tomorrow” he said.

Leaving? To go where? To do what? She wanted to ask all these questions, but all that she could do was saying a disconsolate “oh”.

“But don’t you worry, Charles here is one of the best riders, he’ll do a great job.”

An idea popped in Emily’s mind: if she had learned how to ride a horse by the time Arthur had come back, they would have been able to wander around together. Again, it was a silly and childish thought, but Emily was like this, sweet and naive.

She stretched out her arms and made Charles understand she wanted to get down. He dutifully helped her and then Arthur dismounted Taima.

“Which one is your horse, Arthur?” she asked looking at the other animals around her.

“That one” he pointed to a spotted brown and white horse.

“Is it a ‘he’ or a ‘she’?”

“A ‘he’” he answered walking towards it with Emily right behind him.

“He has a name?”

“Not yet. I found it recently and I haven’t had the time to choose one.” To Emily that white and brown mantle reminded more of a cow than a horse, and cows reminded her of ranches. Looking at Arthur for a brief moment, she imagined him like a rancher, with that cowboy hat and a whip in his hands to make the cattle move, and a name appeared in her mind.

“Drover” she murmured.

“Drover? You have an unusual taste for horses names” he laughed.

“I didn’t know there was a rule for horses names.”

He chuckled and silence fell again as Emily couldn’t remove from her head the idea that he was going to leave.

“Where will you go tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’ll wander for a bit, see if I can find something, stay on my own.”

“How long are you going to stay away?”

She couldn’t restrain herself from asking and for a second she had the impression that Arthur was becoming suspicious of all those questions, but he fast hided it.

“I don’t know, as long as I need.”

“But… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You already have all the freedom you can possibly want here. You can leave tomorrow morning and come back in the evening, no-one said you have to spend days out. And then, what will you do on your own? Without company. Won’t you be bored to death? Or feel lonely?”

Arthur smiled and shook his head. No, she couldn’t understand, and he couldn’t understand her, either. Their time was different, their way to do things was different, Emily knew it, deep inside her. Arthur didn’t, because he couldn’t accept the fact that she came form another time, but he had realized she had a different mindset and that was exactly what made him curious about her, even though he didn’t feel the same she felt for him. 

“I have my own way of doing things” he cut short in the end.

Emily just nodded and she was about to walk away when she thought about something else.

“I’m sorry about this morning. You were right, I shouldn’t stick my nose in your life. Peace?” she asked showing him her little finger.

Arthur smiled again at that childish way to apologize and then murmured “peace” before he patted her on her shoulder and walked away.

...

Who knew what he was going to do around the country all alone for an indefinite number of days? Emily kept asking herself that, while she walked around camp again. Her feet brought her back to her tent where Karen and Mary-Beth were seated.

“Hi, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Mending socks” replied Mary-Beth. Then, she raised her look on Emily and frowned slightly.

“What have you been doing? Your hair is messy” she asked.

“Oh, I played with Jack. The brush is in your crate, right?” said Emily walking to the back of the wagon.

“Yes, always there.”

Emily opened Mary-Beth’s crate and took her hairbrush, which she had already used plenty of times in the previous days. It wasn’t something she was used to, use other people things, especially hairbrushes, but she had no choice. She returned to the front of the wagon and took a seat next to them.

“Uff, it’s not fair. Men can go around, drink, fight, do whatever they want, and we are forced to stay here and sew socks” complained Mary-Beth.

“Who said that? We can take a wagon and go to Valentine. Have some fun, meet some people…” replied Emily.

“Yeah, keep living in the dream land” said Karen with her usual sarcasm.

Emily put the brush down to look at her.

“We are free. Don’t let anyone ever tell you something different” she stated with the hardest tone she could use.

“Yeah, look at how much freedom we got.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mary-Beth.

“They don’t allow us to do anything apart from… clean, govern the house and lie on our backs for money. If that means freedom for you.”

Emily sighed. It was 1899, she always had to remind herself that.

“I guess you’re right. We can’t even vote” murmured Mary-Beth.

“Why you care about voting?” asked Karen.

“I don’t know, it’s one of the things I’d like to do.”

“Don’t worry, you will. And soon” said Emily with a big smile.

“Really? When?” exclaimed Mary-Beth while Karen scoffed.

Emily moved her eyes from one to the other.

“I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“Oh come on! It won’t make any difference if two people know” Mary-Beth encouraged her.

Emily leaned forward and made sign to her to do the same.

“1920” she whispered.

“So early! Really?”

“Yeah, of course” Karen snorted.

“Well, when we get to 1920 we’ll see who’s right. We’re all gonna make it to that year” Emily replied. 

Karen frowned and fixed her eyes on Emily’s face, who stared back at her.

“We?” she asked.

“Well, until I find a way to time-travel back to 2020 I don’t see I have much of a choice. And when all the things I say will happen, one after the other, even you will have to believe me.”

Emily smiled. She smiled not because she had cornered Karen, but because she thought that, if Karen started to believe her, they could’ve become friends, or at least she would stop to dislike her for no reason, and in time she’d be forced to believe her. 

“Anyway” said Karen shaking her head. “Even if we’ll get to vote, who will you vote for?” she asked to Mary-Beth.

“Well… I have no idea. When the time comes I’ll think about it” she answered.

“Who’s your president now?” asked Emily. She couldn’t remember.

“P. W. McIntosh” answered Karen. 

“Oh right.”

“What about 2020? Who’s the president?” asked Mary-Beth.

“Oh, she is a great woman. Just think that…”

“Wait. She?” exclaimed Karen. 

Both she and Mary-Beth were looking at her with their eyes wide open.

“Yes, she’s a woman. I told you, things are different in the future. No more discrimination.”

Emily was surprised by the fact that a woman president was shocking them so much. After all, they only had one hundred years of difference, how much could the minds change in one hundred years? Apparently, a lot.

“So, what we have to do if we want to go to Valentine?” she asked.

“We need a man with us” answered Mary-Beth.

“Oh gosh” she whispered. She didn’t like this patriarchal way to do things at all. 

“What if we want to go alone?”

“If we go alone, we go on foot” replied Karen.

“Why not with a wagon?”

“If they steal the wagon in town, it will be our fault. It already happened in the past” answered Mary-Beth.

“So, no wagon. Horses?”

The idea wasn’t appealing, but she would do anything to have a little independence.

“Same thing. If they steal one, we won’t be able to buy another” said Karen.

“And why should the presence of a man change things?”

“Because men are intimidated by other men, not women” replied Karen.

Her tone was so matter-of-factly, that Emily found nothing to reply. 

“Okay, okay. Who do you think is going to come with us?”

They thought of Charles or Javier. They seemed to be the fittest for the task. Emily suggested Uncle, but the two girls denied vigorously. Uncle was useless.

“Okay, I’ll go ask them” said Emily standing up.

“Now?” asked Mary-Beth.

“When else? We still have most of the day.”

“What about Miss Grimshaw?” asked Mary-Beth.

“We have to ask permission? We’re not working” stated Emily.

“She wants to know if we leave camp” replied Karen.

“Okay, I’ll ask her first. You two get ready. And ask Tilly if she wants to come” she yelled running away.

Emily found Miss Grimshaw behind Dutch’s tent, taking a break and admiring the landscape. She asked permission, trying not to sound begging and pathetic, and to her great surprise she didn’t object. Feeling light and a little thrilled by her success she hopped in the opposite direction again to reach the campfire where she had seen Javier. On her way she walked past Hosea, seated at the round table and reading a book.

“Why so happy, Miss Emily?” he asked as he noticed her big smile.

“I’m going to town!” she rejoiced.

“To do what?”

“Explore!”

Javier was sharping a little tiny knife when Emily reached him, and she got curious, so first of all she asked him what use might have such a small knife.

“It’s a throwing knife” he answered.

“You mean you throw it to people?”

Javier shrugged. 

“Of course. Erm… I wanted to ask you, would you come with us in town? The girls and I wanted to have a look around.”

“Just me and the four of you?”

“Do you need someone else? I was about to ask Charles.”

“Go ask him. I’ll get the wagon ready” he said standing up.

...

The girl smiled at him and her eyes sparkled. 

“Thank you, Javier. You’re really kind” she said with her light and childish voice. Then, she leaned forward and left a soft kiss on his cheek.

Javier watched at her slim figure as she walked away, feeling the piece of skin she had touched itching slightly. She had called him kind. People used to call him in many ways, but kind, never. She was crazy, no doubt about that, and naive, and quirky, but she was also the sweetest thing he had ever seen, and he couldn’t not think of her in the most innocent way because every other kind of thought, felt wrong. 

He took a couple of horses and tied them to a wagon, then he hopped in the back and waited for the rest of them to come. He heard them before he saw them. They were loud. Well, they were girls. That was going to be an adventure.

“Come on brother” he said to Charles as they both climbed at the leading place.

On the road to Valentine they listened quietly to the girls’ conversation, smiling or chuckling  every now and then. They were planning their time in town. Karen and Tilly wanted to go find some money, the new girl insisted for exploring the surroundings. 

“We’ll split up then. Charles, you go with Karen and Tilly at the saloon. I’m coming with you two. How does it sound?” asked Javier.

“Good” answered Mary-Beth.

“Do you think we should have asked Molly to come with us? Or Abigail maybe?” asked the new girl.

“Abigail would never leave Jack behind. Miss O’Shea fancies herself a society woman, she would’t have come” said Tilly. 

“What do you mean she fancies herself a society woman?”

“She believes she’s better than us because she’s with Dutch” replied Mary-Beth.

“Are they a couple?”

“Ah-ah” affirmed Tilly.

“So there are: Dutch and Molly, Abigail and John… some other couple?”

“Karen waits for Sean to come back” said Mary-Beth.

“If he’s still alive” murmured Karen lowering her eyes.

She missed that little piece of shit. She loved him, deep deep deep inside. She had never told him, and in case he was going to show up again, she had no intention to say it anyway, it would be too much for his already pompous ego.

...

“What about you girls?” asked Emily avoiding an embarrassing and sad silence.

“Us? With someone in camp?” asked Tilly, but her question was clearly rhetoric.

“Why not? I mean…”

Emily nodded towards Javier and Charles’s backs. The two girls shook their heads frowning slightly.

“Okay, so… everybody else is free?” she asked, but in her mind there was only one person she wanted to know about.

“Hosea had a wife once. She died long time ago, even before some of us were in the group” said Mary-Beth.

“And Arthur had that girl. What was her name?” asked Karen.

Emily’s heart lost a beat.

“Mary. I’ve never liked her” said Mary-Beth.

“W-why?” asked Emily trying to hide her disappointment.

“I think she left Arthur because she thinks to be better than him. She doesn’t deserve him.”

Emily felt immediately better. It was an old story, something of the past. And she had left him, so there was no chance for her return.

“What about you?” Tilly asked her.

“I had a boyfriend. We broke up some time ago because he left Saint Denis for work. I have no idea of what he’s doing now.”

“Couldn’t you go with him?” asked Mary-Beth.

“And leave my family and my job? For him? No, he wasn’t worth it.”

“Didn’t you love him?”

“Well, yes, but not that kind of love that makes you leave everything to follow him.”

“Then it wasn’t love.”

Mary-Beth’s statement outraged Emily. Of course it was love. She had loved him. Or not? If that wasn’t love, what was?

[mylittlemarston]

Hi, I have a request! I’d love to read Arthur x f!reader with #79, 65 and/or 4 from that prompt list. I just think all three of those lines go well together, so I’d be happy with just one of them or all of them ;) Thank you so much, keep up the good work!!

Thank you so much!!!

I’m sorry that this took me so long to write, but I really enjoyed doing it and I even went back and spaced out the speech lines so that it’s (hopefully haha) easier to read !! I really hope you enjoy!!!

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

Arthur Morgan x female reader

Warnings: gore, violence, swearing, torture, abuse  

Summary: After reader goes missing, Arthur starts worrying about her whereabouts, despite being told everything was fine. 

word count: 3063

_______________________________________________________________

          Those damn O’Driscoll’s

     June 16th, 1899

18:17

       “All right Jackie. You ready for me to get ya back to mama?” I ask Jack. I took him into Valentine today to let him get out of camp for a while and get him a few things, my treat. Poor kid needs to get out every now and then.

 “Yeah! Thanks aunt y/n!” He says with a big smile, hugging my waist. I rest my hand on top of his head, rubbing it gently.

 “No problem kiddo. Come on.” I say, getting on top of my horse, cooing at him. I hold my arm out for Jack and pull him up, putting him behind me. 

“Ride fast aunt y/n!” He cheers.

 “Hold on tight!” I say speeding up. 

-------------------------

      “Thank you so much, y/n. He really needed it. I appreciate you even offerin’ to take him out. I would’ve but-“

 “Abigail, it’s fine.” I say. “Anytime. I love that boy like he’s my own, you know that. If you ever need anyone to watch him, you know I’m here. I needed to get out anyways.” I tell her with a smile. She smiles back and takes Jack by the hand.

 “Did you have fun with Miss y/n?” She asks him.

 “We had a lot of fun Mama!” 

I smile, kicking my foot around in the dirt for a short moment before heading over to Arthur to let him know I’m leaving. “Hey Arthur. I just wanted to say goodbye.” I say, heading into his tent.

 “Well where  you goin’?” He asks me, walking closer with his brown hair shining gold in the faint evening sun. 

“Just gotta do a few things. I’ll be back soon.” I tell him, walking out of the tent. Getting on my horse, I head out of camp.

 “Be safe y/n.” John says, guarding the camp.

 “I always am John.” 

-------------------

I ride for a few minutes when a man on a horse charges into mine, knocking me off and onto the ground. “What the hell! Watch where you’re goin’, you son of a bitch!” I stand up, wiping the dirt off of my knees.

 “I wouldn’t talk that way missy.” The man says getting close to me. Before I can do anything, he pulls out a revolver and hits me with it, knocking me unconscious. 

      June 17th 

03:17

            “Wake up, bitch!” A man yells, his voice deep and heavy. He kicks my side, forcing me to cough. I cry out in pain, and the man just laughs.

 “What do you want from me?” I ask, my voice angry.

 “We want Dutch. Your leader. Whatever the hell you call him.” He says. I try to move, but realize I’m tied up with rope and reinforced by heavy chains. They’re as tight as they can go around my wrists and ankles, every subtle movement causing me to wince. He gets closer to me and I try to back up but am greeted by a cold wall.

 “You’ll never get a damn word outta me! They’re my family!” I say, anger growing within me at the thought of whoever these people are scarring poor Jack and hurting anyone within the camp. The man doesn’t take no for an answer, and I’m greeted by a hard smack on my cheek. I forget about being tied up and try to lunge at him, the rope digging into my wrists. I feel something wet drip down from them, and when I look back behind me, I see blood on the rope and my wrists cut to shit. Tears start to fall down my cheeks, dripping onto my shirt that has been torn and dirtied. I try to ignore all the pain I feel in my body, but it’s too unbearable.

 “Let’s try this again, girlie.” I wince at the pet name, wanting so badly to kill this pile of shit.

 “I already told you. I’m not tellin’ you a goddamn thing! You can keep me here forever and I wouldn’t tell you!” I fire back at him, my voice going hoarse from all the yelling. The man gives me a cold smirk before grabbing me by the throat and squeezing down hard on it.

 “We’ll just have to do this the hard way then.” He says. “Boys! The boss said we can do what we want to her. Get the knife.” He lets me go, and I cough while trying to catch my breath. Another man walks up to me with a knife while two more men stand on either side of me, the original man who kidnapped me undoing his belt.

 “What are you doing?!! Stop! Get away from me!” I thrash around, the rope digging deeper and deeper into my skin as I scream and kick with all my might. Tears are flowing down my face, my throat sore and my head pounding. The man with the knife holds it to my throat, putting a little bit of pressure down onto it. Just enough to draw blood, but not enough to make me bleed out. While trying to pull away, I slam my head against the wall, making everything fade to black. The last thing I saw was the two men standing beside me undressing me. 

09:32

      I wake up in more pain than I was before; my eye swollen, lips bloody, stomach and legs bruised, and an ache in my lower abdomen. Another man walks up to me, forcing my head up to look at him. His thumb brushes over my lips, the cuts on them burning as he does.

 “Good mornin’ sweetheart. Hope you got yourself a full nights rest. We got a lot of fun things to do to ya.”

 “Who the fuck are you? Why do you have me here?” My voice is a little hoarse, but nothing I can’t handle.

 He flashes a cold smile as he licks his lips greedily. I look away, thoroughly repulsed. “I’m Colm O’Driscoll. I’m guessin’ you  know who I am?” 

I meet his eyes again, tensing at his name. I make as much distance between us as I can but am not very successful. His face is inches from mine, his hot breath laced with alcohol and tobacco.

 “Yes, I do. But why do you have me here? If you’re gonna kill me, just do it already.” He chuckles, stepping back.

 “I don’t wanna kill ya, honey. I want Dutch to come find you.” It was my turn to laugh at him.

 “Then what. He and the boys  kill you? You don’t stand a chance.” I say, laughing a bit harder than before. Colm’s eyes go dark and cold, his face showing pure anger. 

“I won’t stand a chance… if they come for you. If they don’t… well…” anger pools inside of me again. 

“You hurt anyone in that camp, I’ll find you and kill you myself! Don’t you go anywhere near it!” I smirk at him, realizing what I said. “Oh wait. You can’t. You need me alive to tell you where it is, right? So you wouldn’t kill me anyways.” He gets close to me again, his hand going across my face with a hard slap. 

“You’ll tell me where he is. Trust me.” He turns and walks away, grabbing a gun and vanishing into the shadows. I drop my head down, tears stinging my eyes. Maybe he’s right. What if they don’t come for me?

14:48

Arthur’s pov

      “What if she’s in trouble, Dutch?” Arthur asks, his voice gruff.

 “It’s only been less than a day, Arthur. We’ll wait another day or so and go from there.” Dutch says, lighting a cigar and taking a puff from it. Arthur walks away from him, going to sit on a log by the fire. He rubs his face, his mind only producing thoughts of you and your safety. John joins him on the log, sighing.

 “Arthur, what’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up and examining Arthur’s slouched position. 

“It’s y/n. I’m really worried about her. What if she’s in danger? With the amount of people after us, anything could’ve happened.” He sits up, staring into the dancing flames.

 “She’s strong. You know that. She won’t deal with our bullshit, let alone anyone else’s.” John tells him, chuckling. Arthur chuckles too, loosening up. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Dutch said to wait a little longer and if she doesn’t show up, we’ll go find her.” John nods, patting Arthur on the back.

 “She will. And if she don’t, I’ll go with you.” He says standing up. Arthur nods, staying on the log and sighing. What if she really isn’t okay…? He asks himself, the anxiety only growing within him.

June 18th

07:53

      I can barely lift my head up from yesterday’s torture. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this. I try to swallow, my throat in so much pain from screaming. My eye is even more swollen than before, forcing a wince from me when I try to look up. I lick my dry lips, greeted with the taste of blood. There’s no telling if it’s from my mouth or my nose at this point. I can’t imagine what I must look like; bruised and battered to hell. If only Arthur could see me… he’d kill every one of these monsters. I smile weakly at the thought, even though it hurts. I force my head up, leaning it against the cold stone wall. A heavy door swings open and a silhouette approaches me. “Colm.” I can’t be bothered to try to look at him as I say his name.

 “We found the camp. Turns out we didn’t need you after all.” I forget about the pain and take every ounce of energy and might that I have to look at him.

 “Don’t you dare…” I say angrily.

 “Calm down girlie. We’re only givin’ ‘em a warning. No harm from a warning, right?” He sneers.

 “From you, who knows. Anythin’ could happen. They’ll kill you in a heartbeat and you know it.” I say. He chuckles, getting close to my face and caressing my cheek. I try to pull away but can’t.

 “Let’s just see how that goes, hm?” He walks away.

 “Let’s see…” I say quietly. 

19:23

Arthur’s pov

      Arthur finished his bowl of Pearson’s stew, setting it down on the ground and walking to his tent.

 “Arthur,” Hosea calls out for him. “we need to find her.” He tells him while Arthur rummages through his things, throwing a bag together. 

“Yeah we do.” He says, turning to the older man. 

“There’s no telling where she is. But we need to look.” Hosea tells Arthur solemnly. Arthur nods. They head out of the tent and into Dutch’s for a game plan.

 “What are we gonna do, Dutch? We can’t just sit around while she’s out god-knows-where with god-knows-who, getting hurt or lost or whatever the hell she’s going through.” Arthur says angrily. 

“I know, son. We’re leaving first thing after we come up with a plan and get everyone who’s goin’ with us together.” Dutch says, clearly exasperated. Arthur rubs his face again as he tries not to let his emotions get the best of him. He’s truly worried about you. Just the thought of someone ‘having their way with you’ vexed him. How could someone so monstrous harm such a fragile, delicate flower such as you? His mind raced with thoughts as the other men conversed in front of him about what they’re next move will be. Suddenly, Miss Grimshaw rushes into the tent.

 “Dutch! It’s those damn O’Driscolls! They’re here!” She whisper-yells. 

His face flushed red with rage and he storms out, everyone in camp forming a line with the men in the front. Colm walks up to them, three men of his own behind him with their guns out. 

“Van der Linde.” He says, leering.

 “O’Driscoll…” Dutch says, his hands moving to his hips. The only sound between them is the wind blowing between the trees, rustling the leaves on them this warm summer night. The smell of firewood and thick atmosphere that made it hard to breathe.

20:37

I woke up peacefully from a painful nap, having only terrible nightmares of what might happen if I never make it out of here. I lift  my head up slowly as to not bring myself more pain then I’m already experiencing, but it’s no use. I groan, letting my head gently hit the wall behind me. I hear the door open again. That goddamn dreaded sound of a creak and heavy footsteps. It’ll take a while to not hear them in my mind at night when I close my eyes. I whimper and try to get as far back as I can before my body meets with the wall. The man who entered mumbles under his breath angrily about something, quickly taking the shotgun by the door and practically running out of the room again. Even when I’m not talking, my throat is in agonizing pain. God what I would give for a hot bath right now. Then again, I would give anything just to get the hell out of here. There’s audible yelling outside followed by a couple of gunshots. There's footsteps above me, and I can’t help but hope that Arthur came for me. That they all did. Then I hear it. That familiar gruff voice that only seems to soften when near me. 

“Where is she?!”

 It’s muffled, but I know that voice from anywhere. I lift my head up too quickly for my liking, groaning at the discomfort. “Arthur…” I try to croak out, but it forms into a whisper. I hear another gunshot from where I heard his voice before, along with heavy footsteps headed towards the door. I sit up straight, tears welling up in my eyes. “Arthur!” I say louder, this time making it audible for him to hear. 

He busts the door down, looking at me while he slowly and gently places his gun in his holster. “Y/n…” He says softly, freezing up as he looks at me with sorry eyes and a mournful expression. 

“Please… Arthur please get me out of here… I wanna go home…”

He rushes over to me, freeing me from the restraints that held me to the wall. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m gonna getchu outta here. You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” He says with his voice as sweet as honey wine and as soft as silk. Oh how I missed it. He picks me up and slings me over his shoulder, retrieving his gun from his holster once more and holding it to his side. He opens the door, walking up the stairs. I grunt at the subtle movements that make my pain even worse. “Shh… You’re alright… You’re with me now.” 

I can’t help but start to cry softly at his sweet words. I hold onto his shirt, missing the way his eyes lit up and the faint flush that rose to his cheeks. 

Arthur’s pov

How could he not feel sorry for you? How could he not freeze up when he entered the room where you sat with dull eyes and blood on multiple wounds on skin that was once clean and soft. Lips that he so badly wanted to kiss that were now bloodied and chapped. The image of you with Jack while inside of camp and the way you would play with him. The kind, loving smile you would give him when you spotted him across camp that made his day a hundred times better. You had held onto his shirt as you cried onto it, and he had never felt so protective of anything or anyone before. He swung the door that led outside open, looking around for many O’Driscoll’s. Thankfully there weren’t  any, thanks to the rest of the gang that had tagged along. Dutch and John rush up to the both of you, John turning his head away when he sees your face. 

“Christ… we need to get her back to camp immediately. You two go on ahead. We’ll meet you back there.” Dutch says with eyes locked on you. Eyes of guilt.

----------------back to reader----------------

The ride back to camp was anything but enjoyable. Everything hurt. Arthur laid me down in the medical tent, fetching a bucket of water while I changed into the clothes he brought me from my tent. He came back with the bucket and a rag, smiling at me  sadly as I tried to sit myself up on the cot. He brought the bucket next to me, sitting in the chair that was next to the cot. He dunked the rag in the water, squeezing it and gently placing it to my busted lip. 

“You can’t keep doing this.” He says after minutes of silence. 

“What’s that?” I ask him, a whisper being the loudest I could speak. 

“You can’t keep getting yourself into trouble like this. I worried about you so much. You really scared the shit out of me, y/n.”

A weak smile spreads across my lips as I fidget with the blanket laid on top of me. “I’m sorry. But goin’ through all this made me realize… Never mind. Forget I said that.”

Arthur pulls the rag away from my face, laying a gentle hand on my forearm. 

“Y/n, what is it? Talk to me. You can tell me anything.” 

I smile down at the blanket, watching my fingers play with the soft pelt. “It’s a silly thought, really. I don’t know why I even thought I could say it out loud… it only makes sense in my mind.” He takes a gentle hand and turns my head to look at him. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest and my cheeks feel red. I shift so that my face is just mere inches from his. I put my hand on his cheek, looking deeply into his blue eyes that shine like the ocean on a midsummer day. I lean forward and place a kiss on his lips ever so gently. He very carefully wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into a sweet embrace. I bury my face in his neck, smiling against his skin as he places a gentle kiss on my neck.

/////fin~/////

Sorry if this isn’t lined up either haha I tried

[swaps55]

17 Things

I was tagged by @pip-n-flinx and @rpgwarrior4824. Thank you! 

I do not know who has been tagged at this point? Uh, @ziegenkind094, @theoriginalladya, @mallaidhsomo, @jedirangerpenguin, @bardofheartdive, @urrone @joufancyhuh @alyssalenko

Nicknames: My Real Life Romance Option calls me Swaps. So does his family. I love it.

Zodiac: Cancer

Height: 5′6”

Hogwarts house: …I have no idea. I don’t really Harry Potter.

Last thing I googled: “how to catch a rattlesnake by hand”

Song stuck in my head: “my tears ricochet,” Taylor Swift. The lyrics are fucking haunting, and the melody channels the exact level of angst and grief I want for this thing I’m gonna have to write.

Amount of sleep: I am a clockwork sleeper. I have an off switch and an on switch. I get 7 hours almost religiously.

Lucky numbers: 55!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream job: I would never have identified my current job as my dream job, but holy shit I love my job, and it’s 100% because of the amazing people I work for. But in another life, my dream job would be a Hollywood stunt rider.

Wearing: Carousel of Progress t-shirt (Disney) and a Spectre hoodie. (Iiiiiiiiiiiiit’s a great big beautiful tomorroooooooooooooow, shining at the end of every daaaaaaaaaaaaaaay)

Favorite instrument: I’m a sucker for a guitar, but I can’t play anything. I do sing, though.

Aesthetic: This could mean so many things. My house features a “Classy Nerd” aesthetic that is a lovely blend of all the things Real Life Romance Option and I love. Mass Effect artwork, Fallout memorabilia, 40k models, Disney decor and horse racing/my photography. I made the decision a long time ago that everyone who ever set foot in my personal space was gonna know it was me who lived there.

Favorite song: Beautiful Day, U2. My creative writing professor once had us do an exercise where we sent him the song that we would all want to be playing when we walked into a room. This was and always will be mine.

Favorite author: JRR Tolkien, Alastair Reynolds, Stephen King.

Favorite animal: PONY.

Favorite animal sound: Pony nickers, and Nerd Dog’s chatter. He talks to his toys a lot, and it’s adorable.

Random: I have near instant recall for every Kentucky Derby winner and the year they won the race between 1900-2000. I’m fuzzy on 1875-1899, though I do ok, and weirdly enough I have to think really hard about a few years post-2000. This is because I had Kentucky Derby trading cards as a kid, and looked at them so much I accidentally memorized them.

This useless party trick actually resulted in my crowning academic achievement. In college, I took a film class on Alfred Hitchcock. The professor who taught it was someone I had taken several classes with, so I knew him well. He was the head of the English department, tenured for a million years, and in many ways The Head Honcho. He was a great professor but also a quirky pretentious literary nut. His particular quirk for the Hitchcock class was that after every viewing of every movie, he would give us a quiz meant to prove that we’d paid attention. The questions were all super detail-y shit. We’re talking, “what was on the nightstand in X scene” levels of detail.

The first film we watched in the class was The 39 Steps. In that film, there was a character called “Mr. Memory,” who recited trivia. One of the questions asked was, “who won the Kentucky Derby in 1936?”

I want you to picture this scene the day he gave us the first quiz. Imagine an auditorium filled with both undergrad and graduate students, with the most respected English professor on campus standing behind the podium, fully expecting to put the fear of god into the entire room. In a very calm, very snide voice, he said, “I could ask you anything. I could even ask you who won the Kentucky Derby in 1936? Would any of you know who won the Kentucky Derby in 1936?”

I, sitting towards the back, a lowly junior, raised my hand. He blinked. Called on me.

“Bold Venture,” I said. Every fucking head in the room swiveled around to look at me.

The professor stared at me. Blinked some more. I had never seen this dude speechless in my entire existence on campus. Finally, he said, “See? She paid attention.”  

I never, ever had a greater academic moment.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Not an ask but more of a question.... I love your idea of a Poly Capone x Napolian x Reader would be, but how would the massive age differences work? Like....The reader with Al would probably have 73 years of difference between them.... But the reader would probably be able to get him upto speed with the future.... But with Napolian? He's got at least 100-200 year difference with both of them! That's mind boggling 😵😵😵

I love the way your mind works, that didn’t occur to me XD Oh, but don't thank me for the Poly Capoleon, that was all the requester! ^^ 

Hmmm, lemme think. I really like this question. 

Okay! Since they didn’t have the tablet, they have not been conscious until the night Dexter brought the tablet to the Smithsonian- so luckily neither Al or Napoleon are really supernaturally ahead of you, intelligence-wise like a lot of vampire-human relationships. Of course, Napoleon is still a famous general and Al is a criminal genius, but that's... sorta... more normal... I guess... 

Anyway! There is still, of course, a culture / time shock. With Al, they probably go through the same motions that Amelia and Larry did, with the 20′s-30′s slang and such (Amelia Earheart went missing about 10 years before Al Capone died, so they probably knew of eachother through newspapers and such.) but Napoleon was legit born into the ancient regime of before the French revolution. DEMOCRACY???! (Al would get a kick out of telling him about the American Revolution. Taxes?? NO. They bond.) 

Okay heres where I magically become a historian, watch. 

Al: 1899-1947 

Age - Due to Jon Bernthal being 33 when he did Al, and Al not knowing about his take down, death, or the fact that he becomes 'fat', we'll assume that the spot in his life that Al is stuck in as a cardboard mjseum piece is when he was 33. In real time, when Al Capone was 33, it was 1932 (Correct my maths if I am wrong, please XD), which is just after the Prohibition, but before World War 2- Great Depression time. 

Also, jazz, blues, gospel, and folk music, swing jazz, and RADIOS are growing in popularity, but he's still sorta in the 20's state of mind. Which was flappers, automobiles, nightclubs, movies, bootlegging, and jazz. 

That’s the kinda mindset Al is in right now. 

He is also an educated man, so he probably knows his share about the French Revolution and Napoleons empire. 

Now, our(NATM's) Al acts really old fashioned, and no amount of teaching him about your world is going to change that. He doesn't like TV, he wants to play cards instead. Stuff like that, he acts like a Boomer except worse because he is older. 

(As far as some prejudice goes, I think Al is a total feminist, being a 20's man, he respects his elders and wont hurt children, and he doesn't have any particular racist feelings about any other ethnic groups. He of course wouldn't be used to the equal rights and voting rights and such, but he's just like 'Good on ya')

Okay! Moving on to Napoleon. 

Napoleon: 1769-1821

Age - Due to Alain Chabat being 51 when he played Napoleon, we're gonna say Napoleon is 51 as well in this moment in 'time'. So, he's about to die basically. The real Napoleon died when he was 51, in 1821. So this version of Napoleon, knows most of what happened in the real Napoleons life except his death. 

Okay! So, at this point in his life, he should be living on Saint Helena(And island South Atlantic) where he was exiled to by the British. 

He's going to have the most issue with modern world- its a culture shock for him! But he's also very intelligent, and our(NATM's) Napoleon is fasinated by everything. He wants to know all about your world, and Al's world! Flapper? Bootlegging? Radio? Meme? TOUCH SCREEN?? Take it slow, boy is ancient XDD 

He doesn't wanna go slow, though, he wants to consume all the information immediately, because he’s curious and also he hates feeling so behind, so you and Al may be in for a week or more of non stop learning in the archives (What better place to learn though, right?? The Smithsonian!!) until Napoleon’s head totally explodes. Just make him sleep and bring him lots of water. Al will have to carry him to a comfy rest place at multiple points. 

He’ll feel behind every now and then for the rest of his ‘life’ probably, but watching Al get confused about memes (And you assuring him that there is plenty you want to know about his time) makes him feel better. 

Both: 

Okay, I hear you saying ‘Yes, I just read all that boring stuff about history and culture- but age difference, Hannah,’. Yes, okay, we’re onto that now, I’m sorry XD 

Even without the... you know... being from different centuries, there is still a huge age difference. No matter how old you are, one of them is either going to be older or younger then you. Al is thirty three, and Napoleon is fifty one. Of course, in the ‘olden times’, especially Napoleons era, it wasn't a big deal for there to be huge age differences between a couple. So he isnt really bothered by it- except to ask you if you are okay with it, because whether he knows or is unaware about the new prejudices against age difference, he doesn't know how you feel about age differences and needs to- our Napoleon is a gentleman. 

Ordinarily in Al’s era, I think they were starting to get wierded out by certain age differences, but I honestly don’t think Al really cares except to tease either you or Napoleon a bit or a lot. Just good fun- and also he really liked it. 

They’re honestly perfect for age difference relationships XDD They’re both gentlemen! ^^ They’ll ask how you are with things every step of the way. 

I ah... might’ve gone too far with this question… haha. Thank you though, I had a lot of fun answering it! 

[noxleyfin]

Newsies Imagine: Homeless And Annoyed PART 2

Newsies x 13-year-old (M) Newsie (Homeless And Annoyed) Part. 2

→ a/n: I don’t know any of the actors personally nor do I own them or their characters. What’s written below is fiction and should be thought of and treated as such. I am essentially using them as a name-claim and face-claim. I’m creating my own character and using the actors as background characters, and just using their name and features for details. I do not directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. → summary: this kids done with his living situation and stumbles upon a fellow guy in need. → warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, strong language, stupid Delancey's, bad writing → word count: 1097 → completion: done → (Y/N) - Your Name 

Saturday, August 15th, 1899 5:04 p.m. 2nd Person POV

Life sucks. And that’s a fact. 

“Hey, dirtbag! Where ya’ running to?” Your new ‘friend’ called from behind you.

Up your mother’s ass.

Of course, you didn’t say that. Probably wouldn’t have been a very good idea. 

What you really said was, “Didn’t know there was a curfew, Nerf Herder!” 

...That probably wasn’t much better, was it?

“The hell you call me?” 

You turned into your alley. “You deaf or somethin’?” 

Swinging your body around, you watched the dark shadow figure follow behind you. 

Well, at least this one isn’t super ugly. It’s real embarrassing to get beat by a guy who’s less handsome than you. Luckily, that doesn’t happen often. He was older than you, maybe by 5 years. His face was bare of any hair but his dumb looking hat distracted you from the fact that he hasn’t puberty yet. You’ve seen him around before; he and his brother like to go around messing with people. Speaking of which, where is his brother? 

“So you found the rat, Oscar?”

Speak of the asshole.

“He tried to escape, but he couldn’t get past me,” Oscar informed his brother with a smirk.

You just stood there looking at them and they looked at you. 

“Get him.”

Your mind was fuzzy after he said that. 

“Geroff!”

You could faintly hear the sound of your body flopping to the ground and the insults that the brothers yelled at you as white-hot pain exploded everywhere. “Leave me alone!” 

It felt different from when that one man kicked you in the chest, that had only lasted a few days but this felt like it would stay with you forever. “I’m...I’m warning’ ya’.” You don’t even remember when they stopped hitting you. 

“Hey! Leave ‘em alone!” 

And then it went dark. 

Sunday, August 16th, 1899 8:13 a.m. 3rd Person POV

“What’s gonna happen to him?” 

“I got no clue, Kid.” 

“But what about his family?” 

Les wasn’t exactly happy about what happened to his new friend. The night before, while on a walk, Race and Jojo had found  a half-dead (Y/N) unconscious in an alley with the Delancys on top of them. When they finally managed to chase them away, they dragged him between them to the Lodging House. The warden had sent for a doctor and Snipeshooter ran to the Jacobs’ apartment to bring David and Les along. Les, unfortunately, was not allowed to stay the night so only David could come. When he saw what had happened to the boy who had reunited him with his little brother, he went into a rage, mumbling about how he was gonna kill Oscar and Morris, all while wiping at the bloody wound on (Y/N)’s forehead. 

After he cleaned them up to the best of his ability, the doctor arrived with the warden and Davey was shoved to the side. With an extensive evaluation, the doctor concluded that while nothing was broken (thank god), he had a severe concussion and was ordered to stay in bed for at least a week. The newsies gave him the extra bunk that David usually used while he slept over. In the meantime, David decided to sleep on the old couch in the front room. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but he wasn’t leaving. He felt a strange protectiveness over the young boy, like he was another younger brother. 

Jack sighed. Les had been brought over by Race not too long ago and wouldn’t shut his trap. We love the kid but (Y/N) was right, the kid really is annoying. 

“We don’t even know if the guy has a family or not, Kid. We just have to wait ta ask him.” He explained. 

“C’mon, Les,” David called from the corner. “Leave Jack alone. Wanna draw with Smalls?” He gestured to the close-in-age girl sitting next to him. 

Smalls looked up with a smile and waved Les over. Les grinned and jogged over and was handed a green crayon and the two kids began to color together. At this point, David started to worry and for the fifth time that day, sat next to (Y/N) and brushed some hair out of his face. 

“Dave,” Jack sighed from his spot at the cards table, “Leave the poor kid alone. You gonna give him a heart attack when he wakes up.”

David sighed and began to stand up, knowing Jack was right, but as soon as he did, a soft groan emitted from (Y/N)’s body. Conversations stopped as everyone stared at the young boy. Jack and Davey were the closest and therefore, the first faces he saw when (Y/N) finally opened his eyes. They opened slowly, more groans and grunts coming out as he did. However, when he saw who was above him, he was not happy.

“Get away!” He started to yell. He went to sit up but Jack held him down...only making (Y/N) more mad but he only attempted to fight for a few minutes before falling back in exhaustion. “Where...where am I?” He stuttered out, trying to move his head but hissing at the pain it caused. 

“Woah! Slow down, Kid,” Jack did his best to calm him down but he was still attempting to fight the tight grip on his shoulders. 

“Please let me go,” (Y/N) begged. David could see tears forming in his eyes. His gaze met Jack’s and he nodded to the other boy.

Jack slowly let go of (Y/N)’s shoulders but didn’t put his arms down right away. 

“Is’okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya’.”

Eventually (Y/N) relaxed back into the hard mattress but anyone could see he was still tense; that is, everyone except Les. As soon as he thought was appropriate, the boy rushed over to the other, ignoring Smalls’ offended look when he threw her green crayon to the floor. 

“(Y/N)!” He called out, smiling brighter than he had in a fair while.

Once (Y/N) saw Les, at first he grimaced but it soon melted into a reluctant smile. “Hey, Kid,” he called briefly. That was enough for the expectant Les. He began to ramble on about nothing and everything while David and Jack backed off, choosing to ignore (Y/N)’s desperate look. They exited the room and spoke quietly despite being away from the group. 

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” David asked. 

Jack thought for a moment. He and the others had seen the flinches and heard the boy’s not so quiet pleas back in the bunkroom; it wasn’t hard to determine what had possibly happened to him in previous times. He sighed deeply before answering his friend, “I’m not sure, Dave. But that’s what we’re here for.”

[thefloorisbalaclava]

All That Really Belongs to Us Is Time - Arthur Morgan x Belle Kennedy - Chapter 2

A/N: Belle is adjusting as best as she can with a little help from Arthur, of course. Next chapter will be from Arthur’s POV!

Chapter 1

She did not sleep. How could she? The realization that she was actually here…in 1899...was almost too much to handle. She had hoped she would wake up in her own bed in her small flat back home but no such luck. Colter was her home. For now.

That man, Arthur Morgan, had told her he'd get her home but what was she supposed to tell him? The truth was out of the question. Maybe she could sneak away and find another way…

The knock on the door made her jump and stand up quickly. “Yes?”

“Miss Belle? It's me...Arthur, I mean,” he said from outside the door.

That made her smile. “Um...you can come in.”

He pushed the door open slightly and she nodded. “How'd you sleep?”

“I didn't,” she admitted.

Arthur was silent for a time as if he was trying to think of the right thing to say. “You hungry?”

“Do you cook?” she teased.

He chuckled. “No ma'am, I leave that to Mr. Pearson.”

“You know, you can just call me Belle. There's no need for the Miss’ and Ma'ams.” She stood and walked over to him, taking in his appearance. He was taller than any other man she knew and she felt dwarfed by him the longer she stood there.

“It's how I was taught. Can't help it.” He shrugged and she nodded.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, Miss Belle, I think it's time we got you introduced to everyone.” He was about to open the door when she remembered something.

“Your coat,” she said, walking over to pick it up. “Thank you for letting me wear it.” She held it out to him.

“I think you better keep that for now. Until we find you some warmer clothes at least.”

“Won't you be cold? I don't want you to get sick because of me.”

He held the door open for her and shook his head. “I'll be fine. After awhile you really don't feel it anymore.”

Belle walked slightly behind Arthur as he led her to the food. She noticed a few other people standing around the pot and she realized how nervous she was. Most of them smiled warmly or nodded but there was one who seemed to ogle and glare at the same time. When he spoke, she immediately knew that they would never get along.

“You and Charles went huntin’ last night and brought back a darkie...a mulatto it looks like. That your kinda food, cowpoke?” Belle's mouth dropped open and she balled up her hands. She couldn't believe what she just heard.

“What did you just call me?” she asked calmly though she was shaking from anger.

“Shut your damn mouth, Micah,” Arthur said standing up taller.

“I'll shut it for him,” she said quietly from behind Arthur. He turned to her and shook his head. “What?” He smirked and turned his attention back to Micah.

“This is Miss Belle and you will address her as such or else we're gonna have a problem.” He wasn't looking at her or else he would see how she smiled.

Micah walked closer to her and Arthur immediately moved directly in front of her. Micah put his hands up and began talking. “Well, Miss Belle, guess I better listen to Arthur here. Wouldn't wanna cause any trouble.”

“Seems to me that you like trouble,” she murmured.

“Hm, maybe I do.” He winked at her before walking away.

“I don't like him,” she said to Arthur.

“None of us do. We can't figure out why Dutch keeps him around.” Arthur picked up a bowl and began scooping food into it before handing it to her.

“Thank you. Who's Dutch?” She thought about it for a moment then it came to her. “You can't mean Dutch van der Linde as in the Van der Linde gang?”

“The one in the same. So you heard about us back in...wherever it is you come from?” He waited for a response but Belle wasn't exactly sure what to say.

“Uh...yeah…”

“Look, I don't care about where you're from or what you done if that's what you're worried about. We all done bad things and I ain't one to judge. I understand runnin’ from somethin’ because I've been doin’ it all my life.” Arthur spoke with such sincerity that Belle had to blink tears away before looking up at him. “I thought I'd introduce you to some of the ladies. I'm sure they can help you more than I can.” He led her over to a table where a few women sat and they all looked up to smile at her.

“Well, she sure is pretty Arthur,” one of the women said. “She stayin’ with us?”

“Yes, Miss Jones, that is until she wants to go home. I'll leave you ladies to it.” He nodded and walked away and Belle followed his movements until he was out of sight.

“Where'd Arthur find you?” Miss Jones asked.

“I was...lost,” she said looking around at the women nervously. “I'm Belle, by the way. Belle Kennedy.”

“I'm Karen,” she started then went around the table to introduce everyone else. “That's Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Molly.” The redheaded woman turned to her and smiled lightly.

“Hi everyone.”

“I hope you didn't get lost followin’ a man,” Molly blurted. “They certainly aren't worth it.” She stood and left, leaving all the other women to stare after her.

“Don't mind her,” Tilly said and Belle smiled. It was nice to see a woman who looked like her out here. She felt safer somehow. “So you said you got lost?” Belle nodded and tasted her food. “Doin’ what?”

“Uh…”

“You ain't gotta tell us,” Mary-Beth chimed in. “We all have stories we'd rather not tell. Its okay.”

Belle felt herself on the verge of tears. She cleared her throat and stared down at her bowl. She still couldn't believe she was here. How was she even here? Time travel is impossible!

“Are you okay?” Tilly asked and touched her arm gently. She flinched and noticed everyone was looking at her.

“Yes, I'm fine. Sorry. I was lost in thought.” She could never tell them about what though.

“I think bein’ lost in your thoughts is much better than reality sometimes,” Mary-Beth said with a smile. “Makin’ up your own stories is fun and excitin’.”

But this wasn't a story though it was playing out like one. Belle was sure she had read a book and watched a show about a woman being sent back in time and falling in love. Her life was not a book, though. Nor was in a television show. This was real and she couldn't fathom how it was possible. She should have never touched that damn journal.

That was it! Belle sat up straighter as the idea fleshed itself out. If she could find a way to get to Arthur's journal she may be able to get herself back where she belonged. He kept it in his satchel though and that thing never left his side. She would think of something.

“You ladies bein’ nice to Miss Belle here?” Arthur asked seemingly out of nowhere. She had no idea he was even making his way over. Lost in thought. Making up stories.

“Of course we are. It's you fellers we're worried about. I already seen Micah givin’ her the eye so you better watch him,” Karen pointed out.

“The rat looking one?” Belle asked and everyone laughed. “I'm not afraid of him.”

“We all gotta watch our backs around Micah,” Arthur said. “I'll never understand why Dutch keeps him around. He don't cause nothin’ but trouble.” Arthur's gaze landed on Belle and she smiled. “You hardly ate anything,” he said concerned.

“I was, uh, too busy daydreaming.” Belle looked down then sniffled. “Please excuse me.” She stood and walked quickly to the treeline, steadying herself on one of them as she sobbed. She couldn't do this. She was terrified. She thought back to the survival training she had but nothing could have prepared her for this. Being sent back in time was so much more than survival.

Arthur cleared his throat behind her and she continued to cry, keeping her back to him. “You all right, Miss Belle?” She heard some shuffling then he tapped her on the shoulder. “Ma'am…” he said handing her a handkerchief over her shoulder.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said sadly. She shivered then hugged herself as if crying had made her realize just how cold it was.

“You look cold. Let's get you inside.” She turned to him then and moved closer, feeling his warmth. “I let you keep my coat for a reason.”

“I know.” She walked beside him and he kept his steps small so she could keep up. “You know, you're pretty amiable for being an outlaw.”

“I'm a what?” he asked.

“Amiable. It means friendly and pleasant.”

“Oh, there ain't much that's pleasant about me, ma'am.” She was about to speak again but he spoke first. “You ever gonna tell me where you're from? You sound like you come from one of them fancy, civilized places where they use words like a-ami-...”

“Amiable”, she laughed.

“Yeah, that one.” He walked her back to the small cabin she had stayed in last night. He watched as she slipped his coat on then sat on the bed, hugging herself again. “You mind?” he pointed to a chair and she shook her head.

“Arthur...there are things that you'll ask me that I just won't have an answer for. I'm just...not from around here. I'm from far away. Very far away. It's a very different place.”

“You miss it?” he asked.

“More than you know.” Her voice cracked and she turned away to look out the window.

“What Micah said...what he called you. I best not repeat it but are you?” He leaned in ready to listen to whatever she had to say.

“You mean mulatto? Yes, I am. My mother is black and my father is white.”

“Was your mother a...a slave?”

Belle almost became angry at that but she reminded herself that she was in a different time. “No. She was free and very independent. I think that's what my father loved so much about her.” She chuckled thinking about the way her parents danced around the living room. “They are very much in love.” When she looked back at Arthur she noticed he was smiling. “Does the word love make you smile that way?”

“Hm? Oh, I...uh...I guess so.” The truth was he smiled because she had.

“Do you believe in love?” she asked and he to look away.

“I want to,” he admitted. “Love ain't so easy to come by for a man like me.”

“Or maybe you just haven't found the right one yet.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Have you, Miss Belle?”

She shook her head. “No, sir.”

The silence stretched for awhile until Arthur finally spoke, standing slowly with a groan. “Me and Charles, we gotta go huntin’ again.”

“Can I go?” Belle asked, standing with him.

“I don't think that's a good idea. Beggin’ your pardon, you don't look like the huntin’ type. The way me and Charles found you...you weren't even dressed for the weather.”

“That wasn't my fault,” Belle said angrily.

“Not your fault? Whose fault was it then?” Arthur asked, confused.

“I don't know! I woke up and I was there!” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I don't know what I'm doing here but...I have to do something. If I just sit around I'll just think about...everything and upset myself.”

Arthur nodded. “Okay. C'mon, but keep that coat on. Can't have you gettin’ sick.”

“Right. Thank you, Arthur.” She had never been hunting before but she did know how to shoot thanks to her father. She was also pretty good with a bow and arrow thanks to that archery class she enrolled herself in. Never in a million years did she think that class would come in handy.

She followed Arthur out to the wagon where Charles was already waiting. “Miss Belle is joinin’ us today,” Arthur told him.

“Do you hunt?” Charles asked her.

“No, but I can shoot.”

“How good are you with a bow and arrow?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Pretty good I guess.” She climbed into the wagon while the two men rode in front.

“You sure you're comfortable back there?” Arthur turned to look at her.

“I'm fine.” She hunkered down and hugged herself wrapped up in Arthur's coat. The further they moved away from camp, the more beautiful things became. The snow fell lightly and landed in her eyelashes as she looked up to the sky. She stuck her tongue out and giggled and Arthur looked at her with something akin to amusement.

“You never seen snow before?” he asked.

“Of course I have just not up in the mountains this way. It's beautiful.” The snow covered trees moved with the wind and Belle closed her eyes. In her time, she would probably be inside enjoying a cup of hot cocoa while watching an old film or two. Right now, though, she was going hunting.

“Look at that,” Arthur said quietly and she turned in the direction he was pointing. A huge stag walked among the trees. “Charles, let's stop here. There's gotta be more around.”

The men climbed down and Arthur walked around to lift her down from the wagon. “Thanks.” She backed away from him only to bump into Charles. “Sorry.”

Charles held out a bow and arrow to her. “Let's see how good you are.”

“You want me to...to kill it?” she asked sadly.

“How else will we get food?”

The supermarket, she thought. She took the weapon from him with shaky hands and followed the men closely. The boots Miss Grimshaw had let her borrow were already soaked through and her feet were going numb but she tried her best to keep up.

“Try to hit him from here.” Arthur held his arm out to stop her but she was too busy looking around to notice. She stumbled and nearly fell but Arthur wrapped the same arm he held out around her and held her steady. Close. Too close. He cleared his throat and let go quickly, stepping back and fixing the hat on his head. “Gotta watch where you're goin’.”

“Sorry.” She tensed as he stepped behind her and pointed out the family of deer. “Oh.”

“Told you there were more,” he whispered. She looked over at Charles who was smirking as he prepared his bow and arrow. “Show her how it's done, Charles.”

Without a word, Charles aimed and shot the arrow hitting one of the smaller deer easily. “Your turn,” he said as he turned to Belle.

“Uh. Okay then.” She lifted the bow and loaded the arrow, closing one eye. Suddenly, she felt a gentle touch on her arm. It pushed slightly and she lifted her arm a bit more. “I can do this.” She inhaled and pulled the string back. On the exhale, she let go and the arrow went flying, hitting its target. She yelped happily then covered her mouth almost immediately. “I did it?” She looked at the men excitedly. “I did it.”

“That's...somethin’,” Arthur said looking in the direction of her shot and shaking his head. “You got somethin’ you wanna tell us?”

“Huh?”

“You say you never been huntin’ before but you just made a perfect shot.” He looked at her suspiciously and she shrugged.

“Beginners luck I guess. What now?”

“Now we go get ‘em and bring ‘em back to camp.” The men began walking in the direction of the deer carcasses but Belle was rooted to the spot.

“I'll leave that to you two,” she said watching from afar. Both men lifted the deer as if they weighed nothing and she had to admit she was impressed. Once they loaded the deer onto the wagon Belle decided it was best that she rode up in front with the men this time. She settled between them and rode in comfortable silence back to camp.

The snow had picked up by the time they made it back and the men were quick to get the meat to the cook, Mr. Pearson. “This is great. Thanks fellers,” he said as the men hung the meat on hooks.

“It wasn't all us,” Arthur quipped. “Miss Belle here is pretty damn good with that bow.”

“Well, Miss Belle, thank you too,” Mr. Pearson said with a slight nod.

“You're welcome.” Without warning, Arthur pulled out his knife and began cutting into the deer. Belle gasped and covered her mouth but couldn't look away. She would have to get used to it, wouldn't she? This was her life, her way of living now. Soon she might be the one gutting an animal.

“You should go get yourself warm,” Arthur suggested, wiping his brow carefully so as not to get blood on himself.

“I think I will,” Belle said. She walked to her cabin but something told her to look back. When she did, she found Arthur looking at her. He looked away quickly and got back to his work and Belle smiled to herself as she walked inside and closed the door.

Belle took off her wet boots and started herself a little fire--something else she learned in that survival training class. She stripped down to her shift to leave her dress to dry and wrapped herself in Arthur's coat. It didn't smell good but it didn't smell bad either. It smelled like him and that was quickly becoming a comforting thing for her. She curled up on the small rug by the hearth and watched the fire. It wasn't comfortable at all but she soon found her eyes became heavy and she could no longer stay awake.

[mattygraygubler]

Y/N Stark (Ch. 2)

hi friends thanks for reading 

find my masterlist (which includes prologue and ch 1) here

word count: 1899

warnings: underage drinking

In the coming weeks, Spiderboy began to get on your nerves more and more. He may have been just a year younger than you, but you found him incredibly immature and suffocating to be around. 

Everytime you saw each other around the tower, you pointedly ignored him, and he pestered you with stupid questions, trying to befriend you. 

Maybe in 10 years you could be friends, but not now. You were already in college, and had always been surrounded by people older than you. Between the Avengers always welcoming you and treating you like an adult and skipping a few grades so your peers were always older than you… Peter seemed like a child. 

You were 17 but already a sophomore in college. Your dad had high hopes for you, wanting you to go to MIT and follow in the Stark footsteps, but you had your own path. You chose Columbia University, studying biomedical engineering and cellular physiology and biophysics. 

While Peter’s life consisted of normal high school parties and school clubs and college applications, you went to clubs and bars in NYC and drank too much, and found yourself in bed with men that were much too old for you. 

So what? You were a Stark, just following in your dad’s footsteps. 

Tony had tried to talk to you multiple times about your lifestyle, but every time he tried, you simply pulled up a youtube video of him from his past, being his playboy self with a thousand different women on his arm. If he really persisted, you began a feminist rant about how unfair it was that he was holding you to different standards. That shut him up rather quickly. 

Tony still worried. The semester was midway through and you were coming home wasted at least three nights a week. 

“Y/N,” Tony began in his signature dad voice one saturday morning as you drank a green smoothie, your classic hangover cure. 

“Father.” You said back, mimicking his tone. 

“Let’s talk about tonight. I’m assuming you have plans.” 

“I may have something in the works…” 

“I don’t want to know, but I need a favor.” You rolled your eyes. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“Before I ask, let me remind you that I pay for your college and let you live here and keep the fridge stocked with all those bizzare health foods you eat.” 

“Ah, so that’s the kind of favor you need.” “Y/N…” he warned. “Please.” 

“Ok, ok, what’s the favor?” 

“We have a recon mission tonight and no one will be here to watch over the tower.” “You need someone to watch over the tower? Seriously? Doesn’t FRIDAY and all the other tech do a better job than I ever could?” 

“Please, Y/N? I’m trusting you to look after the place while everyone’s gone.” “I think you really just don’t want to come home and find another boy leaving the house when you come back in the morning.” Tony pressed his fingers in his temple. 

“Please, Y/N, I’m stressed enough about this. Can you please just stay in and look after the place? There’s some ongoing programs in the lab that may catch on fire, it’d be nice to know that there’s a Stark here in case something needs immediate fixing.” 

“Fine.” 

“Really?” he said surprised. “I mean, good, yes of course you’ll do it because I’m your father.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t worry dad.”

“No parties. And I mean it Y/N Stark.” Most days this would’ve pissed you off, but after your last party at Stark Tower, you really didn’t have the patience to go through hosting another party. Columbia kids may be geniuses, but they really had no rules when it came to a Saturday night. 

“Dad, I’m serious, after last time I don’t really want to go through hosting again.” “Do I want to know what happened last time?” “You most definitely do not.” “Fine. Thank you. We’re leaving in an hour.” --- 

An hour passed and the avengers departed, with Steve giving you a traditional dad speech, warning you to be careful and that he was not as forgiving as your dad. In more ways than one, Steve was your second father. 

Of course, there’s his bromance with Tony, but it was more than that. Pepper wasn’t your mom. Your mom was a one night stand from Tony’s past who died when you were young. Pepper had always been so welcoming, and truly did act as your mom when she needed to, but she clearly wasn’t ready for the whole mom-thing. Steve, however, never had kids of his own and had adopted you almost immediately after realizing how similar you were to your father. 

Thor kissed your forehead before departing, which made you blush. 

“Don’t listen to the dads, Lady Stark. You have a good night by any means necessary. Why, one of these days we’ll have to get these old men to loosen up and have a nice ol shindig, Asgardian style.” You smiled. Thor was older, and waaaayyyy out of your league, but immediately, you pictured a drunk Thor flirting with you. 

They left, promising to return in 24 hours, and you relished having the house to yourself. 

The next few hours were spent with you stealing supplies from the lab and rigging a complicated light system that reacted to whatever music was being blasted from the surround-sound speakers. 

And oh, the music was being blasted. Drake, Queen Bey, and everyone in between. With no one home, you were free to dance around in spandex and a bralette, singing at the top of your lungs and setting off fireworks you had engineered to be safe for the indoors. 

Around 7, you heard the faint ding of the elevator. You were standing on the table in the living room, and because all the walls were glass, you saw a group of people emerging from the elevators. 

You stepped off the table, turned off the music and lights and approached the group. 

“Oh… hey.” The boy at the front, the insufferable Peter Parker, said. “We, uhm, didn’t think anyone would be here and my friends wanted to see the tower.” 

“Well this is a surprise.” You said. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry to barge in, I didn’t realize anyone would be home.” “No, no, I meant I was surprised you had a friends.” A gorgeous tall girl standing behind him laughed. 

You smiled at her. “You’re gorgeous.” You said bluntly. “I’m Y/N.” “MJ,” the girl said, her face bright red. You noticed her holding hands with an attractive asian boy. 

“Well, MJ, if you ever need a break from asian ken’s dick, give me a call.” She blushed even more at this comment. You may fuck a lot of guys, but who can pick just one gender? Especially when MJ looked like that. 

Peter cleared his throat. 

“Well, uhm, if you don’t mind can we stay and play some games?” Peter said. 

“Depends, what kind of games? If it’s normal teenage stuff, yes. If it’s dungeons and dragons or anything remotely loser-ish, you can turn right around and go back to where you came from. 

“Are you single?” a boy from the back with shaggy hair asked. You laughed.

“Depends.” You replied and winked. 

“I’m Flash-” he said with a grin, before MJ’s boy toy elbowed him in the gut. 

You turned and led the group into the living room, putting the lights back to normal and the music back on, at a much more acceptable volume. The teens made themselves comfortable around the room, and you counted about 8 of them. 

“I’m going to go put on a shirt so that one,” you said, pointing to Flash, “stops staring at my chest.” The girls in the group left and you departed to your room, grabbing a see through white tee shirt. You said you’d put more clothes on, but there were some really attractive people in that group. How Peter got friends who were actually cool, you had no idea, but you thought maybe if you played your cards right, you could end up having a fun time with MJ and asian Ken. 

You returned to see the teens playing truth or dare. 

“Ah, truth or dare. Good choice.” You remarked. “But if were gonna be playing this game, we at least need to make it interesting.” You left and returned quickly from the kitchen, holding a bottle of tequila in each hand. 

Most of the group looked rather uncomfortable, except for MJ who grabbed a bottle and immediately took a swig. You laughed. 

“Girl, you and I are going to get along so well.” 

You settled on the couch across from Peter, not wanting to be close to the weird boy that kept stealing glances at you. You didn’t think he realized that you noticed, but he wasn’t exactly the slyest boy in the world. 

Soon, you knew all their names, and were really starting to like these kids. Peter’s best friend Ned was a riot, and it was so clear he had a crush on the blonde Betty. You had a knack for realizing these things. MJ’s boyfriend, Brad, was head over heels for her, and MJ was very obviously uncomfortable, but still seemed to be embarrassed, but enjoying his small cheek kisses and rubs on her back. 

Everyone was drinking, and these kids had very obviously not been around much alcohol. Nevertheless, the tipsier they got, the more fun they had. 

“Y/N,” Flash said seriously, staring at you. “Truth or dare.” “Well I almost always pick dares, but I highly doubt you guys can come up with anything good, so I’ll go truth.” “Who in this room would you least like to hook up with?” Immediately you pointed to Peter. Flash laughed out loud. 

“Why am I not surprised you pick Penis Parker.” 

“Remind me again why you’re here Flash?” Peter asked, his face red. 

You quickly changed the subject, asking Betty truth or dare. A few minutes later, it came back around to you. 

“Truth or dare?” “Dare.” You said with a sigh. Hopefully these children can come up with something good. 

“I dare you to do 7 minutes in heaven with Peter.” MJ said with a mischevious grin. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You said, deadpan. 

“Unless you want to use your chicken-” “Nope.” You said and rose to your feet. You grabbed one of the bottles of tequila in one hand, Peter’s hand in the other, and dragged him behind you, the group whooping and “ow-ow”ing behind you. 

“Someone better set a timer.” You said as you pushed Peter into the small coat closet next to the elevator. It was dark, with just a few slivers of light coming from the edges of the door. Peter was breathing quickly and wouldn’t meet your eyes. 

“So uhm what do we do?” “You’ve never done 7 minutes in heaven?” “Uhm… no.” He said shyly. 

“Well it’s called 7 minutes in heaven for a reason. There are no rules, you get 7 minutes to do whatever your heart desires.” You paused and looked up at the nervous boy in front of you. 

“So, Spider-Boy,” you said. “What does your heart desire?” 

No sooner than you had finished that question Peter grabbed your waist and pressed his lips against yours. 

[and-i-lostmy-shoe]

Newsies Pride Month

Day one: coming out

the list of prompts

this is the first prompt of the month, so of course I’m already three days behind. And boy, is it a doozy.

So Davey has known all his life that he was gay

And all his life, he’d been the only one to know that he was gay

But then all of a sudden, he’s got FRIENDS! MULTIPLE friends!

And they’re all like this: “criminalized? Never heard of her.”

Constant jokes, implications, think “that’s what she said” but it’s “that’s what he said” and also it’s 1899

And at the lodge in the evenings, when they’re left unsupervised,

Flagrant displays of homosexuality here.

Blink and Mush are all over each other, always.

Albert and Race shooting innuendos at each other.

Romeo throwing bad pickup line after worse pickup line at Specs and getting playfully “rejected”

Sniper is constantly positioned in Smalls’ lap, making it difficult to play poker

Not everyone is queer (c’mon guys I gotta be realistic here),

But if someone wanted to rat they would have done it already

And yet Davey is still hesitant to come out to them

He’s nervous. Scared. About to do something that will greatly increase the likelihood that he will get sent to prison.

The way he’s always done it was safe. But it was also lonely. And he was done with lonely.

He’d known the newsies for over a month before he made up his mind to tell someone.

He really wanted to tell Jack. But Jack was also the one he was most terrified to tell.

Jack was the leader, so he could hypothetically kick someone out. And he was also his first best friend.

Jack was also one of the straight ones, Davey knew that much from Jack’s little fling with Katherine, short though it was.

Who knows how Jack might react?

There was also the little problem that Davey was absolutely head-over-heels in love with Jack.

So no, he couldn’t tell Jack

But he was also really close with Crutchie

And Crutchie was really close with Mush

So Davey has a clue as to what Crutchie’s reaction might be

And now to wait for the perfect moment.

If you’ve ever tried to wait for the perfect moment to tell someone something very important, you’ll know that they really come, if ever.

But Davey was one of the lucky ones. He only had to wait for a couple of weeks.

The entire time, it had felt like he was about to sneeze. The words were on the tip of his tongue, eager to jump out at any moment.

Crutchie had gone up to the roof early. The game had gotten loud quickly and the night had stayed muggy.

And, like people often are when they have a very important thing to say and finally the right moment, he wasted the entire thing frozen to the spot in anxiety.

The sky was starting to get dark, and Les and Davey had to get home

Davey felt a sinking feeling of disappointment as he wondered how long he’d have to wait for his next chance.

And then something inside him, something old and lonely and hungry for a companion who actually knew him, who he didn’t have to watch every sentence around, snapped.

And he said to himself, “fuck it.”

He told Les to wait there and that this would only take a minute, and then he started up the ladder

On the roof, Crutchie was lying on his back, staring at the stars.

When he heard Davey approaching, he sat up and turned to look at Davey with an inviting smile.

“Hiya Dave!”

He soon noticed the look on Davey’s face and asked “what’s eating ya?”

Cue Davey’s explanation, if it can be called that.

It was mostly just a lot of mumbling and an increasingly confused Crutchie

But he managed to make out the words “I’m” and “queer”, and everything clicked together

He gave an amused little laugh. “Yeah, I knew.” he said

Davey was stunned.

“H...how??”

Crutchie laughed again. “Yer not that subtle, Dave.”

“...oh.” Davey finally stuttered. “Does… does Jack… also know?”

“Na, he’s the only one who don’t.”

“Oh, phew”

“Hm?”

“Well, Jack is straight.”

Crutchie just laughed at that.

“But, but.. he is, …right?”

“Where’dcha get that idea?”

“But… he was with Katherine.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So he likes girls.”

“People can swing both ways.”

“...oH.”

Crutchie just laughed. “For the smart guy, yer real clueless sometimes, Dave.”

There was a brief pause as Davey worked up the nerve to ask another question.

“Does… does Jack have… anyone specific in-“

“Davey!!!” The sound of Les’s voice rang out from the fire escape.

“Davey!! We’re gonna be late for dinner!”

Davey jumped. “Coming!” he called down and scurried down the ladder

Crutchie stared at the ladder as he heard Davey and Les clamber down to the street, shaking his head fondly. “Utterly clueless sometimes,” he whispered.

I think this is the longest headcanon I’ve ever written.

tag list: @technically-whizzy | @spot-me50-papes | @papesdontsellthemselves | @rivertellsstories | @donotforget-myname | @thebroadwayaesthetic | @sunshine-e-cigarettes | @awkwardstranger98 | @sure-as-a-star | @and-ive-got-a-date | @jellyfishyishy

[tellthosewithpowersafeintower]

All's Well That Brings Ducklings

This is in a response to a prompt by @all-the-lovely-newsies! (read it on ao3)

Notes: Hi! Ily and I adore this ask so much. I had SO MUCH fun with this one you do not even know

I’m... really sorry tumblr went and ate your ask when I was trying to work on a response for, but I did get it! The idea was: “Newsies of your choice find baby ducks and try to sneak them into the Lodging House”

I'm not sure if this is the best but I loved writing it. Davey is autistic and can go nonverbal sometimes in this, but they don't really have words to describe that about him (bc, y'know, 1899) This is just gen and focuses on the friendships between the characters. Javid are together in this universe, and it's sort of alluded to but not the focus of the story

I was sort of imagining this as musical/Live versions and then Boots appeared bc I love him

I really hope you like it? <3

"This isn't going to work, Race," Boots hissed from his place on the floor, glaring at the boy who had a cigar half-peeking out between his lips.

Davey, shockingly, had been sucked into their shenanigans and had seemingly been struck silent for the past several minutes.

The ducklings stared up at them, wiggling as the group of newsboys tried to hold them without letting any of them fall. Boots had three in his arms, trying to precariously balance them, two of them had taken nest in a cap set next to one of the boys, and Davey was cradling one close and stroking it soft, repetitive motions.

There were nine total.

Nine.

None of them were quite sure how they'd gotten that many ducklings in tow or how exhausted the poor mother with nine babies must be.

"Course it will, are ya stupid?" Racetrack whapped the other boy lightly over the head with his cap, scowling. "We'll be fine, just watch."

Boots stubbornly glared and Racetrack, incredibly keen not to get a sharp kick to his shins, was not going to bring up how overly excited and gleeful the younger boy had appeared when they'd found the ducklings. Boots was scrappy enough, and Race didn't want to have a slew of the littles mad with him for a week 'cause of his inability to keep his mouth shut.

Davey had gone silent. Race was a little thrilled by that- and come on, Jack couldn't be that cross with anything that made Davey so happy he couldn't talk. The Jewish boy stared, eye wide, slowly stroking a little duck in a way that made Race feel he'd probably have his hands fluttering the way he did when he got too excited if he wasn't preoccupied petting the duckling.

"It's so soft," Race thought the last thing he breathed might have been.

He shot a look up to the building. Davey's earlier attempts to protest: "It won't work Race! ...You can't just sneak ducks into the building. What if they make a mess? You don't have any room for pets- Race..." had been abandoned.

"It'll work," Racetrack said presently instead, insistently.

He scooped up one of the ducklings, trying not to grin. This was going to be fun. Besides, who wouldn't want baby ducks in their stuff?

Sneaking the ducklings into the Lodging House was a complicated business. Race's initial plan was to climb up and deposit them through the window, but Davey had shot that down quickly and adamantly. So instead, he began the dangerous trip of sneaking up through the house, hissing sharply to one another while Boots kept ferocious lookout. Ducklings, it turned out, were not very good at being directed places. While the three of them had ended up home earlier than the rest of the boys, it still took more than half-an-hour of wrangling ducklings and guiding them with hats and a box lid up to steps just to reach one floor.

Davey stammered, "This isn't working. It's- it's stupid and we're going to get caught, Race, what if Jack's-"

"Jack ain't gonna be mad with you Davey, he likes you too much. 'Sides, we ain't gonna get caught in the first place." Shooting a glance around the stairwell, Race dropped and scooped a few of the ducklings into his cap and bolted. Balancing the ducklings was a precarious business, but while they chirped at him in protest and Davey yelled "Race!" he did manage to get them in one piece up to the bunks. He swiftly deposited them onto the nearest pillow, ran for the door, and shut it tightly behind him.

Davey shot him a sharp look.

"Race, I swear," he stopped whatever he was saying to carefully nudge one of the ducklings back towards its siblings before Dave's face returned to his anger.

"What? It ain't like this way was working much better," Race shot nack sneakily.

"Just shut up and-"

"Stop pushing!" Boots scolded on of the ducklings before glaring balefully at one of the larger ones. "You're stepping on my toes!"

"Shut up you bums," Race hissed. Boots stuck his tongue out on the step below him, Race could sense it. "Boots..."

Almost petulantly, Boots retorted, "I haven't even done anything!"

Eventually, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible the boys tried to tuck the ducklings into their coat pockets or cupped hands and make it upstairs and out of sight. A handful of the other boys noticed, giggled and watched or snorted. One of the twins gaped for a moment before lighting up and darting away in a way that may have Race a little fearful in anticipation for what the duo would do next.

They did make it with only a few odd looks as the boys slowly began to shuffle in for the night.

Finally, finally they made into one of the dorm rooms. The boys burst in, waving ducklings close to the bed and several of them being deposited onto the pillows. Race kicked the door with his foot. The door slammed shut behind him, and he sent a surveying glance around the room.

"We have them all?" He checked. "Boots?"

"I got mine!"

"Davey?"

A blink before a decisive nod.

"How many are in here?" Race squawked. He let his gaze run along the floor. The ducklings were clustering beneath one particular bunk. Boots was close down next to them, and, hesitantly as though he was afraid of imposing himself too much or something Davey seated himself on the edge of the mattress. He started to count- bundle of feathers, check, the chubby one, the black one, the-"it would be easier to count if they would all stay still!"

Davey dropped his gaze, eyes flicking between the ducks as Race muffled a groan. He twisted around and tangled his hair in his hands. Davey's voice was clear and level when he spoke up smoothly. "We have all nine."

He paused before a confused, "Why-"

He was cut off by a high series of chirps from when one of the baby ducks "Shush shush shush shush shush," Race nearly fell over as he dropped to the duckling's side, trying to cover its mouth. "No," he tried.

The duckling didn't seem to care about Race at all. He huffed.

"Alright, you've been quiet more than ten minutes so I know you'se up to something. Race?" Something thumped below- the drop of a bag perhaps- and then, footsteps.

"Uh, nothing?" Race's voice went high and cracked. He winced. Oops.

Well that was more than unconvincing. Race bolted, lurching forwards and knocking someone's stuff over with a thud in the fray.

"We're fine, Jack," and Race really wanted someone to teach Davey to lie because the poor boy sucked at it.

It was probably more than a miracle they'd made it this far.

Race started scooping up ducklings, desperately trying to wave some underneath the bed. "C'mon, c'mon!" He hissed.

The door swung open. Jack opened his mouth, probably to say something, but froze in the doorway, face slowly falling into one of absolute befuddlement as he stared at the scene of feathers and ducklings and fumbling newsboys.

Davey was the most sheepish of the lot of them. "Oh! Uh, Jack," He lowered the duckling into his lap, fiddling with the edges of the mattress uncertainly, seeming entirely bashful. Race was frozen, a deer in the headlights before he straightened up in the picture of wide-eyed, oblivious innocence while Boots, for the most part, looked incredibly smug and innately pleased himself.

"Hiya Kelly," Boots greeted with an easy grin.

Jack gaped at them a moment. Finally, trying to sound stern, he asked, "Why-" and Racetrack practically preened at the way he could see Jack fighting painfully hard as the corners of his lips twitch to keep himself from smiling. "Are the pillows and the lot of you covered in baby ducks?"

"Ducklings are quite good for the health o' pillows, Kelly, dontcha know? Woulda thought after all your years of being a newsie you would of known," Racetrack leered, knitting his fingers behind his head. "It's the best way too keep em in good shape as long as possible. After all, 's common knowledge for those with brains like Mouth."

Davey wrinkled up his nose, looking half like he wanted to argue before being distracted by the little bundle of yellow and black markings quacking in his lap. His eyes stretched comically wide as he stared in awe at the tiny creature and quickly forgot whatever scolding he seemed to want to give the other boy.

Race smirked.

This was coming to be a lot easier than he anticipated.

Jack stared a moment. He gestured wildly, making a strangled sound before: "What. Happened?"

"It was Race's idea," Davey blurted, panicking. His eyes flew up to Jack's and stretched wide, flashing with insecurity.

"Davey Jacobs," Race gasped. "I am hurt, I am offended, I come here and give you room on someone else's bed outta the goodness of my heart and this is the thanks I get? An' anyhow, Boots was the one-"

"No I was not-"

"Don't you dare, you little-"

"I wasn't-"

"You was the one who said we should in the firs-"

"Alright enough!" Jack cut them off.

One of the ducklings tumbled and landed on its tiny chest with a squeak before fluffing up and fumbling upright. It tilted its head up at them.

The ducklings chirped and Jack seemed to be losing the battle to keep himself from grinning. Forcing a sigh, he said in weak half-protest, "How did you drag Davey into this?" Davey was entirely preoccupied softly dropping his hand to stroke the duckling, who quacked crossly at the boy if he paused a millisecond too long.

"They're soft. And small. And I think Race would have accidentally killed one if he didn't have supervision," Davey rattled off matter-of-factly, before blinking at Jack with the ghost of the smile.

Jack snorted while Racetrack squalled an indignant, "I would not!"

"When are we taking 'em back?" Jack sounded exasperated and far too tired for their antics. Racetrack folded his arms harshly with a huff.

"C'mon Jack, look at them!" Jack jumped, taking a half-step back as he suddenly found a duckling shoved up eye-to-eye with him. Boots stared up at him, eyes stretched wide and Jack held his hands up in a calming gesture.

"Aight, aight, don't get yourself all worked up into a tizzy," Jack swiped at his mouth before he took a deep breath. Squatting down, "You know you has to take them back, right? They need their mom. We can't raise a bunch of ducks. Sides, you know what Weasel and any of the fella will have to say. We can't just take in a bunch of baby birds."

Boots glared before dropping one of the ducks into Jack's cupped hands. Jack blinked, sputtered before he straightened up.

"Can we at least keep one of the little ones?" Race asked.

Jack held the duckling gingerly out in front of him, wavering and almost as though he was afraid of breaking it. "They's all little one's. Where the he- where did you even get them from?"

"Race found them on his way back from the tracks! They musta got lost or something," Boots explained. ""cause they was all wandering around quacking like no tomorrow."

Jack set the duckling back by Boots who nodded proudly. Jack wiped his hands on his pants before standing back up and turning to Race with a sigh. "Their mother's probably looking for them," Davey murmured, knitting his brow thoughtfully.

"Do we have to take them back? C'mon, Jack, don'tcha think it'll be great to see the boys reactions. Albert? Oh! OH, Elmer and Romeo?" Race wheedled before pouting like he used to when they were kids. Jack just huffed and shoved Race's shoulder lightly.

"They has a home too, Racer, and don't be an idiot. Who knows what a mess these things could make?" Jack argued.

"Just for the night. Then we'll take 'em back in the mornin."

Boots shouted in delight, bouncing in a way that lead to a flurry of protested squeaks from the ducklings before he quite seriously apologized. Race lit up, and Davey muffled a laugh behind his hands. Jack's eyes went fond at the edges as he huffed and clicked the door shut behind him. Shaking his head, he crossed over to crouch down and watch Boots chatter away eagerly, nodding along. He shot a look up at Dave, who smiled softly back at him and crooked a grin in response.

This was his family- wild, loud, and unpredictable. He wouldn't change it for the world.

..

Even if: "RACE, IF YOU SET THOSE DUCKS ON MY DRAWINGS I SWEAR IMMA KILL YOU!"

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 19: Dynamite

May 1899: Colter, Ambarino

Standing near the fire burning in front of the men’s bunkhouse was about the only way to keep warm, Lenny had discovered.  Every morning when he woke his blankets felt like a stiff, frozen nest, given the cold seeped in through the many cracks and crevices of a building that had been abandoned at least a decade ago.

It was either there or lurking near Pearson’s cooking fire, and given how frayed the big man’s nerves were, Lenny was in no mood to test the temper of a man so handy with a cleaver.  He’d watched and helped the man break those deer down and seen the casual ease with which Pearson had chopped right through bone.  So here he was with Charles and Javier, and all of them stood as stock-still as the snow-dusted trees up here in the mountains.

“I heard you two and Arthur buried that woman’s husband,” Charles said softly, holding his gloved hands towards the fire as they all did, flexing and stretching the fingers of his burned hand as he did.  Lenny noticed they still looked a bit stiff, though that might have been the cold as well.

“We did,” Javier answered.

It had been no pleasant business riding to the burned ranch to bury Mr. Adler.  Nobody had his first name, and nobody wanted to ask the widow who clearly wanted to be left alone.

A frozen corpse, skin blackened by the cold.  Digging through a few feet of snow to the cold, wet, heavy earth beneath--but at least the soil had thawed before this fierce May blizzard, or the nightmare of hacking through frozen ground would have been worse.  It took them the better part of the day, all three of them taking turns, cold and exhausted.  But it had to be done, and Lenny was glad to be riding with people who bothered with things like that.  He’d seen enough cruelty in his life.  To see decency to a dead stranger just so they could tell a woman who’d probably leave them at the first town once they got out of this mountain hell.

Too many graves.  They’d buried Davey here in Colter, another exhausting gravedigging in the snow.  They’d buried Jenny a ways up the gorge, just before the snows hit.  Jenny...not enough time, never.  But Javier had said nothing as he saw Lenny slip a violet snowdrop into Jenny’s hand before Pearson sewed up the canvas, the one flower he’d found for her.  He’d had nothing else to give Jenny but a single flower, plucked before the snow killed any others later that day.  Nothing to his name, and no time to do more than hope, but...but...it had been real between them.  He knew that, sure as he knew anything.  

“We did,” he echoed tiredly.  It had been a long day today too, riding down to Ewing Basin and fighting the O’Driscolls there, but it had felt good too.  They’d all been frustrated and pent up this past week, nervous as a bunch of jackrabbits.

Charles nodded.  “That’s good.  It’s decent.”  He looked over towards the shack where they’d put their few supplies.  “Do I want to know what we’re planning with that dynamite you brought back?  I don’t expect we’re planning to reopen the mine here.”

“Train robbery,” Javier answered him.  “Some rich bastard named Cornwall’s apparently got something nice coming through in three days.  We’re gonna steal it from under the O’Driscolls’ noses.  We got their dynamite, we got their plans, and Arthur and Dutch say we wiped them out of these mountains, except for the one we took prisoner.  That train’s ours for the taking.”

Charles let out a low whistle.  “That wise?  We’re trying to lay low after everything that happened, I thought.”

“Sure, but we gotta do something, Charles,” Lenny answered him.  “We can’t sit here and wait to get killed.  And we lost damn near everything escaping Blackwater.  We gotta get some money to be able to do anything, just about.”  

“Of course,” Charles answered, shrugging.  “If it’s not for another couple days, my hand will be fine.  I’ll tell Dutch I’m good for it.” 

“That’s some good news we needed,” Javier answered him, giving him a smile.  “I’ll feel better to have you riding with us again.  And don’t you worry none.  This may be your first train, both of you, but no worries.  Especially with that dynamite, we can blow the tracks.  Train will have to stop.  We climb on and take it, easy as anything.”  He spoke with confidence, and Lenny couldn’t help but feel some of it himself.  The Van Der Lindes had handled trains before.  He’d heard them talking about it around the campfire.  Sure, things had gone horribly in Blackwater, and robbing a ferry had been an incredibly stupid idea--Micah’s idea as Lenny understood it, which explained everything--but that didn’t meant they couldn’t get back in the saddle.

 “Just make sure none of these fools take a smoke around that shack,” he quipped, gesturing towards the shack with the dynamite.  “We all know they ain’t the brightest, Bill especially.”  Charles and Javier gave him a chuckle for that.  Humor helped, but his eyes strayed for a moment back towards Davey’s grave.  Remembered Jenny’s grave, and knew in his heart he’d never see it again after they left, much as it grieved him.  Maybe he could get up there before they went for the train.  Say goodbye privately.  She deserved that.  Deserved so much more than she’d gotten.  They’d lost Jenny and Davey, Mac and Sean both missing, and John now on death’s doorstep.  I’m tired of losing folk.  Tired of burying them.  Hope this is the last time.

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 Fanfic) - Chapter 2 (2/3)

I generally post in the morning just to realize half the planet is still asleep. How wonderful!!

And no, I’m not being sarcastic, I honestly find it fascinating. 

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/636417099433164800/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-2-13

Chapter 2 (2/3) - Rats and caravan

Words: 2,3k

When she walked inside the room she found Mr. Smith, the man with the ridiculous mustache and Lenny at work, but there was also someone who was doing nothing.

The man with the blond walrus mustache and the white hat was seated on the table dandling his feet down and polishing a long silver knife with a grayish rug.

The first thing Emily thought to do when she saw him was point it out: why everybody was working but him? Was he special? 

Her mother taught her that everybody is supposed to do his part and for this reason she was used to clean and tide her room weekly and wash her own clothes, apart from working and bringing money in the house every month. She never helped her in the kitchen though. She was a terrible cook. 

So, let the others work while he was doing nothing wasn’t right. But then, with a quick glance at the long sharped blade he had in his hands, she thought that maybe it wasn’t the greatest moment to tell him to move his ass. 

“Okay, on my three, Charles” said the man with the ridiculous mustache and when Emily looked at him she saw him and the dark Native bended over a big trunk. 

“One, two, three.”

The two of them lifted the thing, which looked particularly heavy, and brought it outside, all under the high and mighty gaze of the man seated on the table.

“Come, Emily, help me with this” Tilly called her.

She was grabbing another trunk from its handle and waiting for someone to lift the other side of it. Emily reached her and did as she was asked, but she couldn’t bear the weight of that thing for long, and after a couple of steps, she had to put it down.

“Don’t worry, you can do it, we are not in a hurry” said Tilly to reassure her.

Emily knew her limits, she knew she wasn’t strong, she had never been. Her muscles were weak and her bones broke easily, she had learned that when she was a kid.

“Well, actually we are in a hurry, ladies. The law can still catch up with us. You should speed up a little” said the man on the table. 

Emily let the handle of the trunk go and lifted to look at him. He had blue insolent eyes and the curve of his lips had something wicked and mocking. He surely didn’t look like a gentleman. 

“So why don’t you help us?” she replied feeling upset by the man’s behavior. 

“I am a man, house chores do not concern me.”

Emily scoffed. She couldn’t believe it. She had just found the worst specimen of the human kind. 

“Asshole” she just whispered before reaching the handle of that heavy thing again.

“Hey, watch your mouth, girl.” 

Looking at him again, Emily noticed he wasn’t as angry as his voice made him seem, he was just playing the big man. Ridiculous. 

“And you watch your manners. Making a woman work hard as you do nothing isn’t very gentlemanly” she rebuked him.

“You talk about manners? We barely know each other and you already insulted me” said the man jumping down the table and taking a step towards her.

Emily withdrew glancing at the knife he still had in his hands, before fixing her eyes on his. He wasn’t angry, or if he was he was hiding that anger behind one of the most evil, perverted smiles she had ever seen. She was scared by that man, she couldn’t lie to herself, but at the same time he upset her so much she wanted to reply something. If hate had a face, it was the face of…

“Leave her alone, Micah” Lenny stepped in, coming from the other room and getting by her side.

Micah raised his hands in the air making them understand he had no bad intentions and with the same sneer that hadn’t left his face for a second, he walked out. 

“Gosh, is he always like that?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, you better get used to him” answered Tilly.

Get used? She had no intention to get used to anybody, she wanted to leave those people as soon as possible. It wasn’t her plan to live with a bunch of criminals, even if that was 1899 and she had no plan at all. For now. 

With Tilly they moved the trunk outside and left it to the men who lifted it without problems to load it with the others.

Emily looked at the long line of wagons and the people going in and out from the cabins carrying every kind of object. They were like nomads: they moved their house to go wherever they wanted to and whenever it pleased them to do so. What kind of life was that? With no roots, no stability, no rest. Not a comfortable bed to sleep at night, not a possibility to have a family, have a steady job. 

Emily snorted to herself. Now she was talking silly: they were outlaws, that was their job.

“Okay, we’ve done our part” said Mary-Beth going away.

“Where are you going?” asked Emily.

“Probably reading” she answered without bothering to look at her.

Emily exchanged a look with Tilly.

“If you still want to help go to Miss Grimshaw” she said before heading to the opposite direction of Mary-Beth.

Did she want to help? Had she any other choice? Between sit still and freeze and working she preferred working. At least the movement could warm her more than Mary-Beth’s coat was doing.

She started walking and at every wagon she passed she couldn’t help but staring at the couple of horses tied to each of them. Why, why horses? Among all the kind of animals that existed in the world, why horses?

“Good Morning, Miss.”

Emily turned around and watched the man as he walked towards her. 

“Good Morning… Hosea, right?”

“Yes, how you doing this morning?” 

“Better, thank you. I was… helping” she said pointing a finger on the wagons around her.

“Good, the sooner we get outta here the better. I’m not a snow lover.”

Emily giggled, more as a formality than a real amusement, but at the same time Hosea’s words made her think of something: he seemed to be one of the men in charge in that place, so who better than him. 

“Where are we heading?” she asked.

Hosea looked at her right in the eye before answering.

“There’s a town. Its name’s Valentine. I think we’ll find what we’re looking for down there.”

Valentine, she knew that place, but she had never been there. It was a commercial city. Fine business and trading companies, but nothing more. No art, no history, no tourism.

“And, what are you looking for?” she asked intrigued.

“Opportunities” he exclaimed going away with a smile.

Emily frowned, but soon understood what he was talking about and what he meant by “opportunities”. 

She kept walking until she reached the main cabin from which two people were stumbling out dragging the man who the night before was laying on the cot. One was Charles Smith, the other was Abigail. She wondered what had happened to him, but asked nothing, and went inside right after they came out. 

“Oh good, you’re here. Help the reverend with those boxes. We’re almost done” said Miss Grimshaw as soon as she laid eyes on her.

She had no idea who the reverend was and she also found odd that a gang of criminals had a man of church with them. But thinking about it, that shouldn’t have surprised her, not after Jack. 

She saw the man with the reddish mustache lifting some boxes and presumed that he had to be the reverend, so she drew closer and took a couple of the smaller ones, the only ones she could carry without tear away her arms from her body. 

Since they seemed to move a lot, couldn’t they travel a little lighter? Emily asked herself while she followed the man outside, and when she loaded the boxes on the back of the wagon and turned around, she spotted the man with the blue coat that had made her get down the train the night before, approaching with his horse. She looked at him as he made his horse slow down and dismounted it to walk towards Dutch and Hosea. 

“So, we getting out of this hellhole?” he asked. 

“We’re gonna try, weather seems stable” answered Dutch.

“And we just robbed a Leviticus Cornwall train” Hosea added.

The information stroke Emily as a cold shower. The train she was in. That’s what they were doing the night before, they were robbing it. And Cornwall was no mafia boss, but Leviticus Cornwall the magnate and entrepreneur who died in… 1899! And his business, that big business he had created from nothing with his own hands, was split among his faithful partners after his death. 

That was it, the confirmation that she was truly in 1899. She had learned about Cornwall at school, read his name in history books, where they said he was murdered in Annesburg by an opposer of his campaign for improving the miners working conditions. He was a good man, a man who had power and used that power to help others. Who knew if she could meet him and maybe… maybe warn him of his future, maybe…maybe save his life herself! She would have changed history! 

“Bring Hosea. I know you two like to talk about the good old days and what’s gone wrong with old Dutch.”

The tall man with the blue coat walked right in front of her and gave her a look before he kept going. She felt a shiver run down her spine: was it the cold or that man’s eyes? He had something different from the rest of them, but she couldn’t tell what.

“Miss, it’s time to go” said a voice from her back and turning around she saw Santa Clause looking at her with a courteous smile on his face.

“To which wagon?” she asked.

“Anyone. There’s still space in the second-to-last, you want to join me?”

She looked at his sweet smile under his beard and those dark cheerful eyes and thought he was really the perfect kind of man that could play the role of Santa Clause in the stores during Christmas Holidays. He just needed a red suit and hat and a laughing kid on his knees telling him what he wished to get from him that year. This picture gave Emily the feeling that she could trust him.

“Sure” she said with a kind smile. 

Together they walked past three wagons which were already starting to move and reached the one with the big man and Charles Smith at the driving place, while in the back she recognized Jack and the woman with the freckled face she had yelled at the night before. Santa Clause hopped in leaving his legs dangling from the back and Emily followed his example. 

As she adjusted herself better on the place she had chosen, she looked up at the last wagon right ahead of her. The man with the blue coat and Hosea were seated at the driver place and, looking for a moment at them, she gulped in embarrassment. 

She had to travel with the eyes of those two on her, and she didn’t know why, but the idea was troubling. Not much for Hosea, but for the other man, who had such a strange effect on her.

She heard the deep voice of Charles Smith behind her yelling and the wagon started moving with a jolt. 

...

Arthur gave a strong whip of the reins and made the horses move, following the caravan and leaving that cold mountain for good. He also hoped to leave the bad luck behind, together with Blackwater, the runaway, the fear and the losses, but he knew he wouldn’t have. If Arthur had a flaw, one among the others, was that he couldn’t let the past go, even if he tried with all himself. 

“Why it took you so much to come back?” asked Hosea. 

“I had to take care of some loose ends. Be sure this Mr. Cornwall can’t track us down.”

“I tell you, it wasn’t a good move. He is a powerful man, the kind that doesn’t let things go easily.”

Arthur grunted. He knew Hosea was the reasonable part of the group and that he worried about them all, but he trusted Dutch with his life and the one of everybody else there.

As the wagons kept going he exchanged a look with the girl he had found on Cornwall’s train and wondered if they had found out anything about her.

“What about our new arrival?” he asked to Hosea.

Hosea stared at her for some time, thinking about the mystery that girl was.

“Miss Emily Richardson. She’s definitely an interesting type” he said.

“Where do she come from?”

“Saint Denis. If she speaks the truth. And then…”

Arthur looked at Hosea. There was something odd if he used that suspense.

“She says she comes from 2020.”

Arthur laughed in a snort and shook his head. Bullshit. 

“She wasn’t lying” said Hosea plainly.

“Well then, she has a wild imagination.”

“And she looks perfectly sane.”

“Oh come on, Hosea” Arthur complained.

He couldn’t believe he was having that conversation. He knew Hosea was good with people, but maybe that girl was so convinced with her own follies that he couldn’t understand she was crazy, or maybe she was a very good liar, better that Hosea. 

No, that couldn’t be, he knew no better liar than Hosea. 

[racetrackhiggins]

The Ship of Dreams

Blush Titanic AU (Major Character Death/Graphic Depictions of Death) 2147 words

April 14th, 1912

After the Newsboy Strike of 1899, Kid Blink and Mush had gone back to work as newsboys. Of course, their youth faded, and by the time they were twenty-four and twenty-five respectively, they were working together as ship dockers. Three years later, and here they were, taking a ship back to New York, earning their spots by working in the engine rooms. It’d been a year since they’d come to Ireland on another job, and they were both looking forward to getting to see the fellas they’d left behind. The ship? The Ship of Dreams. The RMS Titanic.

The night was like every other night, and the two were taking a break, resting after being on their feet all day, idly chatting about what it must be like in the first class rooms as they just thanked god the worst of the engine fires was over. It was nearing midnight, but they knew that they’d be switching out again soon. Blink was almost dozing off as Mush softly told him a story about a guy he’d met in a pub who’d won a first class ticket on a ship once, and what he’d said it was like.

The bell of the E.O.T suddenly started ringing. Three times, that meant urgent. Blink shot up, Mush shooting to his feet as well. All of the men in the room immediately set to stop the ship, frantically closing the boiler doors. They managed to get them all shut, but it was quickly realized that they were too late as they felt a shudder, hearing an awful screeching sound as the ship collided with something. There was a silence for only a moment, no one daring to even breathe. Then there was a loud crack of metal bending, and screaming from the other engine rooms closer to the bow as water began flooding in. Someone shouted to run, and Mush had to pull Blink from where he was frozen in place, staring in horror as alarm bells rang, the doors beginning to shut automatically to keep the water in the hull.

“Blink, come on!” Mush urged him, tugging him forwards towards the other door. He all but pushed him under the closing bay door, slipping under himself, his heart pounding as it closed just after his foot came through the doorway. He could hear screaming and desperate banging on the other side, but the doors wouldn’t reopen.

They kept running until they reached a staircase. Mush held tightly to Blink so they didn’t get separated, pushing past people the best he could as they made their way to the kitchen. The staff looked at them, confused as to why a group of dirty engine workers had burst in, but Mush didn’t care, and Blink was still in a silent panic. Mush lead Blink out through the dining room and the baths, to the elevators, a few of the other workers that had made it out following his lead. Under the floor, he could hear some of the screams silencing as the hull filled with water.

“Oh god,” Blink choked out.

Mush’s jaw tightened. Get themselves out, that’s all that mattered now. He couldn’t save the poor souls below.

They went up to the decks, running to the railing to see what had happened. It didn’t take very long. The iceberg was touchable, and Blink put a hand over his mouth at the sight. Mush leaned slightly over the railing- “We’re already starting to sink…”

One of the men beside him began muttering in German, something that sounded like a prayer. Another two were talking rapidly in Russian, fear in their eyes. They seemed to be the only ones worried.

“Wh-what do we do?” Blink asked, his hands shaking on the railing. Mush took one of them, squeezing it, but he didn’t know how to answer.

“Wait, I guess… Captain should already know what’s going on, he’ll start the orders for the lifeboats soon,” Mush assured him, somehow managing to make his voice sound calm.

Blink nodded softly, watching the iceberg slowly drift away, squeezing Mush’s hand back.

They’d watched it all pass. The uncaring passiveness and confusion of the situation slowly turning to horror and chaos. Even more so when they realized exactly how little lifeboats there were.

Blink began shivering from the cold, and out of fear; Mush put his arm around him, pulling him close. Both of them realized at this point… they wouldn’t be getting on a lifeboat.

Mush shut his eyes for a moment, blocking out the blind panicking as he sighed. “Come on,” he said softly to Blink, pulling him away from the dock. “You know, I bet with all this, no one will mind if we sneak into the first class lounge.”

Blink looked up at him, breathing back a sob as he realized what Mush was doing. He breathed out shakily, holding his hand tightly as he nodded, letting Mush lead him inside.

As Mush thought, there was no one inside the lounge, only the ashes of a dying fire in the fireplace. He sat down in one of the chairs, pulling Blink onto his lap. Blink obliged, putting his arms around Mush’s neck because neither of them cared about maintaining a distance anymore.

“The height of luxury, eh?” Mush said softly, putting a cigarette in his mouth that had been sitting on the table. He took the match and lit it, puffing it before taking a drag and offering it to Blink.

Blink nodded, parting his lips so Mush could put the cigarette between them, taking his own drag, holding it in a moment before blowing it out away from the other man.

“You remember when we were in the Lodge? We’d sit there and talk with the other boys ‘bout what we’d do if we were rich?” Mush asked, looking into the embers of the fire.

“Yeah…” Blink laughed brokenly. “JoJo would say he’d have a house big enough for all of us to live in, everyone would have their own room. Race would say he’d have a penthouse better than Jack’s, that maybe he’d invite us. Al-” He stopped, his heart hurting mentioning the man who’d died in a sweatshop accident four years ago.

“We’re gonna be with them. Al, Crutchie, Finch, we’re gonna be joinin’ them wherever… whatever is after this life,” Mush said softly, a distant look in his eyes as he took another slightly shaky drag of the cigarette.

“Why’s it always gotta be slow?” Blink murmured. “Why’s it gotta be infections and exhaustion and sinking ships? Why’d that have to be our lot in life?”

“I don’t know…” Mush said, looking at him. “But… fuck, you know, I’m real glad it’s with you.”

“Me too,” Blink said, feeling tears stinging at his eyes. “Remember when we met? You thought I was a pirate cause of my patch.”

Mush let out a wet breath of laughter, “It took a month to convince me you weren’t secretly from a pirate ship.”

Blink looked into Mush’s eyes, suddenly finding that he was holding his face. Mush didn’t pull away. In fact, he leaned into it, turning his head to press a soft kiss to his palm. Blink leaned closer, his breath ghosting on Mush’s lips. Mush closed the distance, pulling him closer, and they couldn’t get close enough, the cigarette being set in the ashtray so Mush could hold him, his hands cold through the fabric on Blink’s back.

When they finally pulled away, Blink pressed his forehead against Mush’s, taking a shaking breath. “Why didn’t we do that before?”

“We’re just a couple of dumb kids,” Mush said, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

“We had all that time,” Blink said with another kiss.

“We wasted it,” Mush said with another. “But we’re here now.”

“I love you.” Blink pulled away slightly. “I have for a long time.”

“Me too,” Mush said, looking at him to drink in the way he looked, knowing it would be the last time. “You really are a pirate. You stole my heart when we were sixteen.”

“All that time…” Blink repeated, leaning in to kiss him again when the room suddenly shuddered. The lights flickered for a moment before shutting off, plunging them into darkness. The ship lurched, and they were thrown forward, a loud smack as Blink’s head collided with the floor before they both hit the wall.

“Blink!” Mush called out, reaching for him, trying to adjust his eyes. An emergency light came on in the hallway, casting a little bit of red light into the room.

Blink groaned softly, reaching back, his ears ringing for a moment, seeing two of Mush in the dim light. His vision come back into focus as Mush held onto him, leaning across the wall because the floor was unlevel. The ringing slowly came down, and he realized that Mush was singing softly to him. It was a song that they used to play at Coney Island, when they’d go down to the circus to sell. One of the acts had been a woman who sang with the most enchanting voice, and both of them had always gone back to the Lodge singing it. It had been years since he’d thought of it.

“... How can there be a story that has no end, how can there be a baby with no crying?” Mush sang softly and slowly. He was looking at the window. In the dim light, Blink could see that it was completely submerged. “A cherry when it’s blooming, it has no stone. A chicken when it’s pipping, it has no bone…” Mush turned away from the window, a tear rolling down his cheek as he cupped Blink’s face. “The story that I love you… It has no end-”

Before Mush could finish the last words of the song, they both heard a cracking sound, looking back at the window. Large cracks were forming under the pressure, and Mush choked out a sob, holding Blink tighter as water began leaking through them.

“Louis, I love you. I love you so much, I love you,” he said desperately.

“Nick, I-”

Blink’s words were cut off by the shattering of glass, and a roar of rushing water as it hit them like a ton of bricks. Blink held his breath as they were both shot across the room from the burst, hitting the other wall. Blink coughed as he came back up- Where was Mush.

He went back down, grabbing Mush’s hand and pulling him up above the water, which had already filled over half the room.

“Mush? Nick? NICK?!” Blink cried, realizing that while Mush’s eyes were open, they were staring blankly straight past him. He shook him, tears mixing with the salt water on his face, letting out a choked sob when Mush didn’t respond. He stared into those eyes he’d loved since they were children. The light had gone out behind them. Biting his lip, Blink pulled Mush’s body closer, burying his face into his neck, sobbing brokenly into the freezing skin.

His legs were getting stiffer, the pin needles in his limbs making it hard to kick. And the room was nearly filled to the top. He looked upwards, gasping.

“Please. Please… If there’s a God above. For our mercy, please. Let me be with him in another life,” Blink cried, holding Mush tightly and moving his hand to his frozen cheek.

He kissed Mush one last time, and as the water reached the roof, he let the air out of his lungs, letting the burn of frozen water collect instead. He gasped desperately for air, holding on tightly to Mush’s body as it faded to black. He stopped struggling, and as Blink died, he was still holding his should-have-been lover.

April 17th, 1912

Race was quiet that day. They all were. The new generation of newsies didn’t understand quite as much, some understanding the tragedy. Most just saw a great headline to sell. Maybe Race would have felt that way at some point. He walked silently down the street, that newspaper, faded and yellowed, worn, hardly able to make the picture out anymore, in his hands. He looked at his friends' young boyish faces. Most of them were gone now. Some moved on, some got away, some died.

Specs was there, Henry, Buttons. Elmer had brought his son. All of them were quiet as they stood on that dock, where they should have been welcoming their friends home. Instead, they looked at the large memorial being set up, tokens for loved ones who had past, families wailing, praying that maybe by some miracle their people had survived but been missed on the count.

Race laid the newspaper on the stack of gifts. He stepped back, bowing his head, letting out a shaky sigh.

He stayed long after the others had gone. He’d seen them all come in. He’d seen them all leave.

He left the paper there, finally shuffling his way back to the Lodge. He'd need a drink.

[seanfknmacguire]

Under the cut is the beginning to a project I’m doing, where I’m writing my OCs into the story of RDR2. The OCs I’m using are Hosea’s twins, Dutch’s daughter, my first OC and an OC of mine which is a rival of Sean’s. I might also add in my OC inspired from Ellie from The Last Of Us later. I have no confidence in this so any replies or tips are welcome :)  I’ll probably do a whole post of OC introductions soon. Please let me know what you think <3 

In the dead of night and the worst snowstorm 1899 had seen, Dutch Van Der Linde led the Van Der Linde gang through the snowy mountains, having only just gotten out of the small town of Blackwater after a robbery gone wrong. Sitting next to a Hosea Matthews, they looked on for some shelter, trying to keep their family warm. 

Amelia Silverton was following on horseback, her oversized coat, a gift from Arthur, wrapped firmly around her shoulders as she shivered. The young 20 year old watched Abigail and Luna work on Davey, a member of their gang who had been fatally injured, and sighed. She wondered just how on earth they had gotten themselves in that situation. Moving her brown hair out of her face, she looked behind her to check on the twins.

The twins, Lily and Nick Matthews, were the spitting image of their mother Bessie who had unfortunately already passed. Their father Hosea was fiercely protective, always keeping a close eye as they always got themselves into mischief as 17 year olds should. The pair were inseparable, following the caravan closely in fear of getting lost.

Luna Van Der Linde was helping Abigail work on Davey in the medical wagon. The short 16 year old being a huge help in the medical field - almost as if it were a gift. She kept an eye on Davey’s wounds, keeping pressure on them as instructed by Abigail and Reverend Swanson.

Connor Kingston had kept his mouth shut for once and instead followed the caravan, keeping guard at the back alongside Javier. The mouthy 22 year old always had an opinion for everything, and didn’t exactly get along with a lot of the gang. He made up for it with fighting - he was a damn good fighter, and a valuable asset to the group, as much as Amelia or Luna didn’t want to admit it.

“Abigail says he’s dyin’, Dutch. We have to stop some place.” Reverend Swanson warned up at Dutch and Hosea, his hoarse voice no match for the loud wind.

“Okay, Arthur’s out looking - I sent him up ahead.” Dutch responded, not sure how on earth he could help apart from wait until Arthur got back. He had a hell of a lot on his plate - Sean and Mac missing, Davey on death’s door, and trying to find a place for the people relying on him to stay.

“If we don’t stop soon we’ll all be dying. This weather, it’s May… I’m just hoping the law got as lost as we did.” Hosea’s voice came from beside Dutch, the bitter cold biting at his face as he shivered. The cold wasn’t good for his bones. The two noticed a silhouette in front of them, and were on alert until they recognised it to be Arthur.

“Arthur! Any luck?” Dutch called forward, his voice hopeful. He was desperately praying that Arthur had found something useful.

Arthur dipped his hat, wiping the fresh snow from its hilts. "I found a place where we can get some shelter!" he shouted in response, the aggression of the blizzard rendering him difficult to hear. "Let Davey rest while he... You know." he added on, the gruffness of his voice growing stronger.

"Come on!" Dutch called to the rest of the group, speeding up the wagon he was steering. He was relieved, suddenly getting almost excited to get everyone inside near a warm fire. It only took them a little while to get to the little mining town, Dutch checking on each individual member as Hosea checked the building they were about to bring Davey into. Making sure there was no danger, he called back outside. “Bring him in here!” Amelia dismounted her horse, taking it into the building they were going to use as shelter for them and tried to keep herself as wrapped as possible. She helped Nick bring all of the horses in, having no time to talk as she focused. Patting him on the shoulder once they had finished, they made their way to the main building with everyone else. Lily and Luna followed the gang into the house, quickly taking a seat. It wasn’t warm yet, but hell, it was out of the wind. Luna looked around at everyone’s faces, and she couldn’t tell if they were full of hope or full of fear. Connor wandered in with Javier and Bill, putting his gun back into his holster now they were finally in and safe. He smiled at young Jack, walking over to the fire and placing some logs inside of the fireplace ready.

Abigail took a stand next to Davey, ready to patch him up properly now they were in shelter when she noticed he wasn't breathing. She looked at his chest - no movement. She put her head near his nostrils - no air coming out. "Davey's dead." She said sadly. Amelia sighed, looking down sadly. They'd lost a lot of people. They didn't even know if Mac and Sean were alive, and worry sat in the pit of her stomach as well as everyone else's. It was evident to Dutch spirits were low.

"There was... Nothing more you could've done," Reverend Swanson peered over to the brunette, dipping his head.

"What are we gonna do, we need supplies?" Hosea asked, closing Davey's eyes with two fingers and looking up at Dutch. He watched him move, nodding at the man.

"Well first of all you are gonna stay here, and you are gonna get yourself warm." Dutch looked at Hosea, a hand on his shoulder briefly. "Now I sent John and Micah scouting out ahead. Arthur and I, we're gonna ride out and see if we can find one of them."

"In this!?" Arthur waved to the outdoors, frowning a bit. He didn’t exactly want to go outside, it was a death trap.

"Just for a short bit. I don't see what other choice we have.” Dutch reassured, looking at the faces of his gang. They needed some motivation, fast. "Listen... Listen to me all of you, for a moment. Now we've had a bad couple of days. I loved Davey, and Jenny... Sean, Mac, they may be okay, we don't know."

Amelia looked down at the mention of Sean, but soon perked back up. She was worried. They weren’t exactly together, but there was definitely something there - the whole damn gang could see it. Luna listened to her father intently as well as the others.

“But we lost some folk. Now if I could throw myself into the ground in their stead, I'd do it. Gladly. But we are gonna ride out, and we are gonna find some food. Everyone, we're safe now. There ain’t nobody following us in a storm like this. And by the time they get here we'll be long gone. We've been through worse than this before. Mr Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp. We may be here for a few days. Now all of you, all of you, stay strong. Stay with me. We ain't done yet." He said with a strong tone, nodding towards the door. “Come on Arthur.” He finished strongly, reaching and squeezing Luna’s hand quickly before walking out of the door with Arthur. The gang sat in silence for a few moments, before Connor decided to lift some spirits.

“So… Lovely weather we’re having.”

------------------------------

“So what’s the plan Dutch?”

Night had fallen on the gang’s makeshift camp, members eating the stew that Pearson made from the deer Arthur and Charles had caught the day before. John was also back- Luna cleaning the wound on his cheek before she ate. A lot had happened since they arrived, including rescuing a widow, Sadie, taking out a whole O’Driscoll camp and capturing a young O’Driscoll, Kieran. The gang had gathered in the main room, wondering just what on earth they could do and where they could go. They couldn’t stay in the mountains - they’d die within two weeks. Dutch racked his brain as he stared at a map, looking for possible places they could go. His eyes skimmed over the words Valentine, and nudged Arthur, pointing to the words.

“That’s a lotta civilisation, Dutch…” Arthur shook his head, glancing at the words on the map. They couldn’t go further north, or back west into Blackwater, and lord only knows what lurked direct south.

“I know, but I don’t see what other choice we have.” Dutch sighed. He turned to his tired family - all looking to him for some kind of idea. “We head West, into Valentine. I know a little spot we could use, for now, until we find a proper place.”

“What about Sean and Mac?” Amelia asked, leaning her arms on her knees as she sat on the floor next to Lily and Nick. She was worried mainly for Sean - not that she’d ever admit it.

“What about them? We can’t do nothin’, at least not right now.” Connor replied, a harsh tone in his voice. He and Amelia never really got along well - Amelia’s fiery personality and Connor’s always made them at loggerheads.

“We can’t just leave them.” She furrowed her eyebrows looking up at him.

“Look princess, I know you’re worried about the ginger, but let’s face it - he’s probably dead.” Connor shrugged, his Irish accent thick as he spoke. He and Sean never got along either.

“You take that back.” Amelia spat while standing up, her quick temper almost too quick in this situation.

“Both of you, stop it.” Hosea warned from beside Dutch. It wasn’t new to him to have to separate the two.

“This is the plan - We gather a few people to rob that damn train in the morning, while whoever stays behind packs up. We’ll get back and leave straight away, heading for that spot near Valentine.” Dutch spoke, his voice full of hope and confidence. Luna looked at her father with a smile - she wanted to be like him some day. She wanted nothing more than to go on the train robbery with them - but she knew Dutch would never allow it. Then again, what was the harm in asking?

“Now everyone - try and get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.” Dutch nodded to everyone. As everyone dispersed, Luna stuck around, getting up from her seat next to John and standing beside her father, Hosea and Arthur.

“You know, Pa… I was thinking.” She trailed off, looking up at Dutch with an innocent grin. She had him wrapped around her finger and she knew it. Dutch looked at her suspiciously before Arthur spoke.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He joked, earning a small slap on the arm from Luna before turning back to Dutch.

“Ain’t it time I start coming on robberies with you fellers? You know I can shoot, and ain’t no-one gonna pick on a young girl.” She said hopefully. Dutch shook his head.

“Absolutely not. I can’t risk that darlin’, I’m sorry.”

“Hey hold on now Dutch, it might be a good idea.” Connor overheard the conversation and interjected, a hand on Luna’s shoulder. “She’s a bloody good shot and you kno’ it. What if she comes tomorrow? There’ll be plenty of us and you can see if she can handle it.”

“But-” He started, but stopped himself and sighed. It was a good idea.

“A simple train robbery, what can go wrong? After Blackwater I think we’ve used up all our bad luck. Besides, I’ll be fine, I got you guys if things go to chaos.” She looked up at Dutch hopefully, who sighed.

“Okay, fine. You stay back at all times, you’re never on your own and I don’t want you killin’ nobody, you hear?” Dutch pointed at her as she nodded. Luna was the spitting image of Dutch - the same curly, black hair, the same eyes and smile. “Now go get some sleep.” He smiled, kissing her on the forehead after nodding to the door. She smiled up at him, walking towards the door like everyone else, nerves bubbling in her stomach.

[habitatforhufflepuffs]

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald Opinions

If it isn’t obvious already, spoilers for Crimes of Grindelwald ahead. Also I apologize for how longwinded this is. I just started typing and before I knew it, I had a novel. Bare with me. 

First off, I would just like to say that I absolutely loved the movie, like LOVED. I don’t think it’s possible for me to watch a movie that takes place in the wizarding world and not love it. 

That being said, I had a few issues, minor ones though. I’ve been seeing a lot of reviews floating around where people are complaining about the fact that the entire movie felt like a set up for another sequel, whereas the first one felt like an actual standalone movie, but like, of course it did??? The first one set up the universe this franchise is going to take place in so obviously it’s a full story. The second one is now setting up the overarching plot that’s going to take place over the next four movies so like obviously a lot of it is going to be exposition of characters and isn’t going to conclude the storyline seeing as each movie isn’t taking place one a year like the HP movies did. 

If I had one actual complaint, it would be that there was A LOT going on at once. Which like, I get it because there’s so many characters to introduce that are going to be important moving forward. It was just a lot of new characters introduced in a short period of time that needed backstories and explaining all at once. As well as, what, like four separate plots happening all at once that all merged together by the end of the movie? Which like yeah I get it, it was just a lot to follow. I did go on to read the screenplay of the movie that just came out, and it was a bit easier to follow than the actual movie, so I 10/10 would recommend reading that. Especially the scene where they’re in the Lestrange family mausoleum, and maybe it was just me but I found the screenplay a little easier to follow what was going on than the actual movie which is weird?? Maybe the movie will be easier second watch through. 

I wasn’t a huge fan of the whole Credence is Leta Lestrange’s long lost brother?? Just kidding no he’s not?? But wait who is he then?? scene because like it was a lot to follow all at once trying to understand who the shit was related and how. Especially considering you’ve got 3 siblings from 3 different sets of parents & then you find out there’s a fourth child that was switched with one of them??? Which again, read the screenplay, it’s easier to follow when you can read full names and go at a slower pace and everything. 

As for the plot twist/cliffhanger at the end, I’m very interested to see where that goes moving forward. I’ve seen many people that think Grindelwald was lying to Credence to gain his trust seeing as he was obviously lying in saying Dumbledore wanted him dead. But I don’t really think that’s the case. Solely because I can’t see them doing the whole “Credence is Leta Lestrange’s brother, psych,” thing only to then turn around and then go, “Credence is Albus Dumbledore’s brother, psych,” immediately following. It would just be kind of ridiculous to have Credence’s parentage revealed only for it to be a red herring twice. 

I’ve also seen a lot of people trying to explain how it wasn’t possible for Credence to be Dumbledore’s brother. I will also say now that after a minimal amount of googling, it 100% is possible, if he’s his half brother only. In this movie (as confirmed by the screenplay), Credence was born in 1901 and was being transported to America in this year. We know Dumbledore’s mother died in 1899, and was killed by Ariana, therefore he can’t be her son. But it’s unknown what year his father died in, just that it was after 1890 in Azkaban. Now, obviously it’s kind of a weird thought but it’s 100% possible that somehow Dumbledore’s father Percival sired another child after he was imprisoned in Azkaban via another woman and that that child is Credence. How Grindelwald knows about this, I have no idea. Especially considering that not much time passes between FB1 and FB2, and he was in custody at MACUSA between the two movies. As well as how Credence ended up in America and Leta ended up back in Britain I’m not exactly sure. But it is completely possible. 

That being said, a bunch of people have pointed out that how is it possible that Dumbledore had another brother that has somehow never been mentioned before now, even though HP takes place after FB obviously. If I had to guess, and it breaks my heart to say this, I’m assuming Credence doesn’t survive the FB franchise because if he died, and Aberforth didn’t know of his existence, then it would make sense why he’s never been mentioned. Dumbledore wasn’t exactly open about Ariana, so it would (plausibly) make sense that Credence was never mentioned. Kinda weird, but still plausible. 

One thing I’ve seen EXCESSIVE amounts of complaining about is the McGonagall cameo. Which like, yeah I get it, it breaks canon. But there’s TONS of people that aren’t aware of McGonagall’s backstory seeing as it wasn’t in the HP books, and even if it were, there was a HELL of a lot of information from the books that never made it to the movies (I’m looking at you, Peeves). So like, just let it go and leave it be??? If you’re gonna be nitpicky about canon you could also argue that they made James & Lily way older than they should’ve been in the movies & technically McGonagall would’ve been 46 the night that they died, but in the movies when she’s at the Dursley’s with Dumbledore she looks WAY older than that. So like, just think of the Pottermore information as part of the book universe and the FB movies as part of the movie universe??? 

Also there was a lot of people I saw that were pissed off that they didn’t make it clear enough that Dumbledore was gay, and that were mad that the story didn’t put enough focus on his feelings toward Grindelwald, which I’m sorry I have to call complete bullshit on. This is only the second instalment of a five movie series and Dumbledore & Grindelwald didn’t even share any scenes together. What did you want?? Dumbledore to cover himself in glitter and strip of his shirt to reveal a tattoo that says I love Gellert???? The Mirror of Erised scene alone couldn’t have made it any clearer that Dumbledore is gay and was in love with Grindelwald. The look of pain on his face alone every time he said he couldn’t make a move against Grindelwald made it VERY CLEAR that there were feelings involved. Also, “we were more than brothers.” What the fuck else could that have meant???? They took a goddamn blood oath that they wouldn’t fight each other. There’s still three movies to go in delving further into their relationship, obviously we’re not going to get the whole story in the second movie. So to all of the people saying it wasn’t clear enough, fuck off. 

As far as the movie as a whole, I LOVED IT. Even if it did have too many plot lines happening at once, I still absolutely loved it. The new characters they introduced were fantastic (I’m kind of in love with Theseus). The new creatures they introduced were FANTASTIC. (somebody buy me a kelpie, and also, BABY NIFFLERS!!!!!). Jude Law was an absolutely perfect Dumbledore. Even Johnny Depp as Grindelwald was super unsettling and did a great job. The opening sequence of Grindelwald breaking out of captivity with the Thestral carriage and the final sequence with Grindelwald’s blue magic against everyone else’s fire were phenomenal. And as much as some people didn’t like the ending, I personally love that Credence and Queenie ended up on Grindelwald’s side (and it makes complete sense why to me too) and I’m super excited to see where that goes from here on out. I loved that everyone lost someone in one way or another too. (Newt & Theseus lost Leta, and Jacob & Tina lost Queenie and Nagini lost Credence to Grindelwald) Everyone’s split on different sides and it definitely sets emotional stakes for everybody moving forward. 

I loved how merciless Grindelwald was too & how powerful they made him. Like he’s chained up in prison and being transported by like twelve aurors and still manages to escape??? finds a baby in the house he took over??? who gives a shit, kill the baby??? he’s goddamn fighting off like ten fully trained wizards at once in the final sequence of the movie BY HIMSELF and is winning until the IMMORTAL BEING that’s 500+ years old shows up, and we’re only in the second movie of five. The final battle sequence in HP was a conclusion of 8 movies & Voldemort’s struggling to fight against one seventeen year old wizard that never even finished school??? Grindelwald is badass as hell. (also, a villain that vapes projections of the future, what more could u want??)

Also, the nostalgia that hit me like a fucking truck when they first panned over Hogwarts and Hedwig’s theme kicked in???? Also young Newt??? Also Leta Lestrange is sick as hell, and I’m not convinced she’s dead yet. 

Basically I’m super into Theseus and Dumbledamn, and I need 2020 to come faster, right now. If anyone wants to scream with me, please shoot me an ask, I need someone to rant to. None of my friends share my excessive HP obsession. Also, I kind of want an entire movie of just Newt taking care of his creatures tbh. 

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.