#fright-mares

[toraleistripe]

Y'all, imagine how AMAZING the Fright-Mares would've been if they made them the size of a standard Monster High doll. Like, imagine if they made the Fright-Mares the way they made Avea. Or heck, if they wanted them to still be smaller, just make them the size of Howleen or something. That would have been EPIC!! I really love their designs, Fawntine and Meadoe are my favorites. I have Fawntine and she's very pretty in person, but I hate how tiny the Fright-Mares are and how unarticulated they are.

I still like them and think they're beautiful, but I will forever wish they weren't so dang small. In that regard, they were done pretty dirty IMO. The gorgeous designs were wasted on those super tiny, barely articulated bodies.

[tomboy014]

Head canon that Fright Knight's mount, Nightmare, is a Mare of Diomedes.

Also, she's a destrier. She's a WAR HORSE. She. Is. Huge. with a broad chest, large hooves and feathering for days. She's not a horse; she's a HONSE.

She will trample your skull, burn you alive, and eat your charred corpse off the battlefield. She deserves to be drawn as such.

[56thingsinaname]

Y know I see a lot of Jason being Danny’s fright knight or maybe Valerie, but what I really want to see is Jazz or Sam being Danny’s fright knight.

Like for Sam, I love her having the plant powers, and I think she’d love them. But the fact that they would come from someone that used her as a puppet and manipulated her love for her plants, idk makes me really sad. She didn’t choose that. And then she was nearly forced to be a ghosts bride, she didn’t choose that either. She’s a usually pretty independent person, so what I kind of want to see is her choosing to be his knight. Like she tries to fill that role a lot already, in my opinion.

And with Jazz, she’s kept his secret when she found out, and continued to support him from the sidelines. When she finally joins, it seems she’s often beat down due to her lack of experience and stubborn attitude. She believes she knows best, I guess it can be hard for an older sibling to let their younger sibling be better or right. (Seems often in my family anyways, notice it In myself too :( ) so I think it’d be cool to see Jazz as his fright knight, a role she can fill to protect him like she’s been trying to, while also taking an active part in their group.

I just think it’d be nice

[ask-de-writer]

I would like to thank Delightfully

EAGER BINGE READER

@furislupus​ for READING and LIKING

My whole MASTER STORY INDEX SECTION,

Now he is delving into

TALES TO READ AFTER THE LIGHTS ARE OUT!

The Day AFTER Nightmare Night!

Poetic Frights of Night Mare Night!

Nightmare Vision

The Sweet Spot

Theme Party

Nightmare Night

DARING DO AND THE HAUNTED BARN!

PUTTING THE BITE ON TROTTINGHAM!

NIGHTMARE NIGHT SURPRISE!

THE TAIL OF THE GHOST

[teufelsgebrut]

terrible news night mares do not stop happening in adulthood.. i knoww noww (╯︵╰,)

[sushirrrry]

wrangled

a harry styles one-shot. 14k words. cw: age-gap, sexual content, spitting, spanking, squirting, dirty talk, humiliation kink, coarse language, dom/sub kink

Forte Ranch.

Kettle Falls, Washington.

June Forte is the 24 year old daughter of Travis Forte– the owner of the largest bison ranch in eastern Washington. When she returned home from college, her wishes of becoming a teacher in the area land her with a few different jobs– one that also includes the family business.

It's not lost on her that when she starts noticing that a superbly handsome, older ranch-hand who introduces himself in a deep-posh accent as Harry Styles, that she seems to lose a bit of focus on the picture: make enough money to leave Kettle Falls for good.

But, the older man seems to keep running into her no matter how many times she tries to leave. Maybe, she recognizes, that it isn't a coincidence.

When Harry and June are one day left alone, the tensions are higher than ever. Once June gets a taste, her intuition starts to let her know that maybe seeing the dimples underneath the brim of the Stetson is easier to lean into rather than run from.

He's not letting her run away that easy.

"Goddamnit, Fury– let's go!"

She pulled at the lead; the rope pulled at her hands a bit when the horse continued to stand his ground, obviously more powerful than her.

A quick sigh, a puff of air to move some of the hair off of her face. June couldn't help but groan at the horse's stubbornness that kept him inside the confines of his stall.

She had a lesson in an hour now. Not that it would have been a huge deal— the family that she taught for were very laid back, but her need to follow a schedule made Fury's outburst quite annoying as it would take a bit of time to get him out now.

The horse-riding lessons that she had been giving were supplementing the cash flow through the summer. Next year, she would be starting a position as a teacher at one of the local schools in the area. June had gone to school in Seattle; it was the biggest culture shock for her when she arrived in the big city.

From growing up on the ranch to moving to the big city with just what she could fit in her dad's pick-up–she had loved every moment of it. She loved seeing the way that the traffic built up everywhere in the early mornings, the honking horns, the sleepy travelers in the coffee shops every morning.

It was a learning experience that she had been blessed with. But, in reality, her heart stayed in the eastern mountains; the smell of the fresh air every morning gave her such a high that she hadn't been expecting to miss with her whole heart.

Living on this ranch, in this small town, had been in her heart this whole time. She hadn't recognized how much of her she still had to learn.

When you're young, you want so bad to leave. Then, you see the rest of the world, and you find home so much more appealing. It feels secure, it feels like a place that you can come back to when you're finished exploring.

It's a place to relax. A place to replenish. A place to house your soul.

Now, she say her fighting with her horse who seemed to have the upper-hand.

"Fury, if you don't come on," She rubbed the horse's nose, giving him a look as he tilted up his head quickly. "You're being so stub—"

"Might wanna give him something to entice him."

The sound behind her makes June jump with a fright, a gasp escaping as she had been lost in her own world. There's a man standing on the opposite side of her now, unlocking the gate of the horse stall. She hadn't noticed him before, so she wondered how long he had been standing there watching her struggle with the ropes her hands. 

A chestnut mare stands, grunts softly in front of him as he looks back at her. June recognized the man, which didn't seem to happen often. The farm has lots of people coming through, many stay for weeks– months, maybe. The summer months are preparing for the winter; she knew that a lot more came around at this time of the year.

But she recognized him.

There wasn't a person who wouldn't.

The man's accent threw her for a moment– not realizing if she had heard him speak before. She mustn't have, or she'd know the low drawl of a foreign tongue.

But there's a few certain men that have been around for a bit. This man, in particular, she thought. He wears his hair longer, a bit down on his ears. He pushes it back into his Stetson, the chocolate curls have grown every time she sees him closer.

He has a soft scruff along his jawline that was really only visible up close; a white tank top that has seen better days when it was a pure white on the rack. June lets her eyes wander for a moment before she sees that he notices, a hint of pink painting her cheeks as she watches that he seems to go on about his day without another word.

Not to mention: if you stared at him in the heat of the eastern Washington sun, it was entirely too close to see the shade of green that his eyes shone. They practically became translucent at how luminous they became.

June was a bit taken; her hands adjust on the lead as she watched the man throw a bridle over the large mare's nose. He clicked his tongue to get her to follow, the mare following him out of the stall easily. June watched at how easy it was; she knew Fury was a bit hard-headed to begin with, so it couldn't have been that easy no matter what he had said to her.

As the man started walking away just a bit, Fury took a step forward which helped June aid him out of the stall. It threw her for a moment, her body moving forward to help lead the horse where he needed. He followed, though a bit slowly as he shook his head when she pulled in the lead towards the saddling. 

"See, told you," The man spoke once again, nodding his head a bit towards his mare, "Men are always enticed by pretty ladies."

He had taken the saddle off of the stand, throwing it over the mare's back. June's eyes stared at the way his muscles popped through the sleeveless shirt, pushing the heavy riding saddle up further on the horses back.

"Going for a ride?" The man spoke again, watching as June hooked Fury up to stand so that he was secured. June hadn't spoken yet, feeling her voice caught in her throat over the way that he had been a bit chatty with her.  Her eyes drifted over to him, knowing he had been talking to her again which elicited a response.

She bit her lip, pulling up on the loops of her jeans that hugged around the curve of her hips.

"No, I teach, actually." June commented, brushing down Fury's neck before pushing some of his mane out of his eyes.

The horse chewed a bit, making her smile as his lips tried to nip at her arm. "Have a lesson soon. He's the best with kids, gives them a hard time but it's good for them to learn how to be a bit more assertive. He listens when you're real strict with him, just not well."

"Really all the qualities of a man, huh?" The man smirked; they stood next to each other at the station before June looked over and he had started to move towards her. His hand outreached, his eyes truly on her now as they became closer with each step he took. "Harry Styles."

June swallowed back, her hand moving out towards his as they locked together in a moment. "June Forte. You're a worker here?"

Harry's eyes shift for a moment when he notices the deep blue of her eyes and the familiarity of her generational smile. His tongue flicks out to run over his bottom lip as he lets his eyes drag over her a moment. June squirms under his vision, her breath halted as he takes his hand away and their touch loosens.

"And this is your ranch, I presume." He speaks, his words standing in the air.

June shrugs her shoulders up as if his comment didn't mean much. "Not mine– well, my family's, so technically will be mine or my siblings someday. My dad's dream was to own it, and I guess now he does. Was my grandads, and my great-grandads. He built it, and it's just a family heirloom now. But yeah– we live up there."

Harry's breath baited for a moment, a small scoff of a chuckle leaving his lips as he moved back towards the mare. The mare stomped on the ground, his hand moving to comfort her outburst.

"Guess I don't need to be flirting with the ranch owner's daughter, then. May be a conflict of interest."

June raised a brow at his words, feeling a hotness come across her neck as she moved to throw the big brush through Fury's chestnut coat. She faced away from him now, her head turning to look over her shoulder at the way he continued to smirk at her.

For the first time in a while, June's sharp tongue felt dull. She didn't know what to say as she felt some hair fall into her face as she managed to push the heavy brush through the horse's coat.

"Never been a huge rule follower, though." He followed up, pulling the reins of the tacked horse; he walked backwards out of the barn with his eyes on June– the shape of her body only let his eyes fall down and around her curves.

A soft chuckle came from her lips as she heard the clicking of his tongue, guiding the mare out. "Easy, cowboy." She called back, in a surprising quip, "My ranch, my rules."

"So now you're the boss?" He quipped, "giving me mixed signals, June." Harry paused for a moment, giving her a moment to comeback.

"Let's just say I'm pretty close to the guy in charge." June tilted her head, "But I'd say that flirting with the boss's daughter isn't in your best interest if you want to stick around."

June watched the man quickly bite his lip as if he was stopping himself from another remark.

"We'll see about that one." He called back, his boots crunching on the gravel once again, his eyes staying on her even when leading the large horse out of the barn. "Might be the opposite effect if I'm lucky."

June bit her lip at the thought of him– wondering if he had seen her before. Her legs adjusted just at the thought of his low, raspy voice. She hasn't heard it before, but now all she could hear was his words in the back of her head.

"Hope you find a four-leaf clover out there, gonna need it." June said back, watching as he moved away, a wink flying back at her.

She huffed, looking at her horse before a shake of her head made her feel a bit dizzy.

Maybe it wasn't the head shake that made her feel that way.

***

The following morning, Fury continued to give June quite a time. He was a stubborn horse, but she knew that he trusted her and vice versa. June never felt that she had a problem with him, he had been her horse for over ten years now.

June grew up with horses, riding and watching them was in her blood. She loved riding and watching people become more comfortable as they rode more. It was a pleasure for her to teach young kids to be comfortable and confident while riding, especially when it taught discipline and hard work.

Nothing about riding horses was easy– she continued to learn that the hard way. It took trust, and lots of effort to make sure that the animal underneath you trusted every part of you. The hardest part was putting your life in their hands. But, it was always worth taking that chance.

He kicked a few times, the young girl that she had for the lesson this morning was mostly scared that she was going to fall off. June reassured her that she would hold his lead, but that she needed to be strong.

"When you're scared, he's going to be scared," June tried to reassure her, watching the young girl— her name was Natasha, she was around eleven. "You have to be in control of him, and he's going to respond to you. But we can end the lesson a bit early if you're feeling some nerves— that's okay, too."

Natasha gave June a look; she was unsure, and June could read all over it. However, Natasha pushed through some of her nerves, which led to June eventually letting go of the reins and letting the girl trot some laps around the outside arena space.

"You got it!" She yelled over, staying on the fence, her eyes lighting up at the girl's excitement over her accomplishments of getting the horse to where she wanted him. "Let's loop around one more time, and then bring it back to the center."

June pushed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The outside training grounds was a large area of the ranch, covered by trees and small patches of grass. She tucked some hair behind her ear that had fallen out of the messy bun she pulled at the base of her neck.

A small noise caught her attention as she started to make her way to the center of the arena to meet Fury and Natasha. June bit on her lip as she squinted in the early morning sun that was casting over the field down to the bison pasture. The gates had opened, watching the man from earlier in the saddle atop the chestnut mare.

His head turned to check that the smaller bison calves had made their way through to the other side of the fence.

"Shut 'em in!" He yelled, pulling at the reins of his horse before the other ranch-hand pulled at the metal gate on the other side.

The field sat opposite of the smaller training field that had been built for June's benefit; she absolutely loved teaching, loved the elements of getting young riders out on the back of a horse to feel the fresh breeze in their hair. It had been so therapeutic to her growing up when everything felt that it could have fallen apart at any moment— this was her world.

Growing up on the ranch had been a saving grace for her. It was the yin to the yang of the city that she had grown to love. She had never had the opportunity to fall in love with another place like she had with Seattle.

It didn't hurt that these were the kinds of views that she had, either.

June hadn't been paying attention as she heard her name being called; her head whipped around as she watched Fury stomp a few times and start to buck and push the young girl. June watched her expression as she held at the fence, watching the young girl struggle with the large stallion.

"Hold on, Natasha!" June yelled, sitting up on the large fence before she cupped her hands over her mouth, "Pull the reins real hard to the left!"

She could see the fear on the girls face as she tried to brace, tried to do what June had told her to. She wasn't strong enough to manage the horse as her foot slid from the saddle and her body flung to the side and off into the dirt of the ring.

June gasped outwardly with a few curses as she ran towards where the girl was flung off. Fury moved away now that she felt safe enough that she could grab her and move out of the ring. She felt horrible not being to stop it before it started, not reading the language of the horse before it was too late.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" June asked, the young girl sitting up on her elbows as she tried to brush herself off. "You're not hurt, are you? Nothing feels broken?"

She shook her head, the helmet bearing her fall as she seemed to just be a bit more traumatized than hurt. The adrenaline must've been moving through her as they stood up, June helping her as she looked around the ring to notice that the horse had made his way out of the ring through the gate she had opened, ready to lead them out.

"Shit!" June yelled out, her head moving around at an attempt to find the horse that had been trotting away. She tucked the hair behind her ear as she turned to look around.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha started, obviously in shock, "I-I didn't– I got scared."

June turned to the girl, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, sweetie. It's fine– as long as you're okay."

June took Natasha out of the ring, climbing up the fence and over to the grassy knoll. Her hands landed on her hips as she searched around for Fury who had gotten loose.

"Fuck," She whispered under her breath.

She didn't expect him to get so agitated. She hasn't had that happen before, which set her alert on high. Fury was the horse that she trained on, and without him, she couldn't hold onto her lesson schedule.

The next one was in twenty minutes, so she needed to figure out a plan on how to catch him.

The first part of the plan was to find the horse that had seemingly run away and out of the gate. Her attention moved back towards the young girl, who had taken off her helmet and seemed to have calmed down just a bit. She rubbed at her elbow that had a bit of a scratch.

"You head back to barn," She told Natasha, "If you see him, holler really loud for me. I'm going to go to the other fields, see if I can catch him."

The young girl agreed, making her way back down to the barns where her mother had been while she took the lesson. She would tell them what had happened, and to make sure they could catch him if he got around.

June started up towards the bison fields– the ranch handlers had been up there just a few moments prior to the incident, and she may have an idea of where the horse had run to. The property was large, almost three hundred acres of land. But, with the number of trees and wooded miles, it would be harder to catch him than it was with the open spaces.

The Forte ranch was surrounded by mountainous regions, which was good for the bison and the elk that were seemingly farmed in the area. June's family kept bison and yak, which was separate to the ranches out in the southwest. Their ranch was green and grassy, surrounded by lakes and streams with glaciers and chilly mornings.

The summer heat didn't always feel like summer, which was what made the mornings so delightful. It was June's favorite parts about the lifestyle of working outside, she felt like there was so much more to see and so much more to take in. It was her own sense of meditation.

"Hey," June called out to the two men sitting on the fences. "Did you see my horse run by? He threw my rider off and fled, and I didn't really see where he went."

The two men seemingly similar looked at one another before shaking their head, practically ignoring her as they continued to haul a few bales of hay into a truck that was backed up to the fence. "Sorry, hon, no."

June placed her hands in her back pockets before she stared at them for a moment. "Okay, well, he's black. Long white stripe down his nose, kinda pink on the end. His name is Fury, but he doesn't usually respond," She blinked a few times, starting to ramble as she thought for a moment, "Probably why he's being a pain in the ass."

She could tell that the men were seemingly uncaring for her request, so she sniffled out of awkwardness before her boots started to move her to the other end of the field.

A good thirty minutes flew by as she walked along the edges of the property, whistling softly for any sight of where the horse could've gone. The sudden sound of clicking made her head turn towards the wooded area; a strike of fear spooking her as she turned. It wasn't that she feared being on her own, but something about being vulnerable ate away at her.

Her heart instantly dropped as she saw two horses, one ridden and the other being held close by the familiar leather reins. The rider in question familiar as she felt her lips quirk up in a smirk at the look on the man's face. She released the breath she had been holding in.

"Think you're supposed to stay on the horse, not let him run away." The deep voice teased. He had been holding the reins of Fury while riding his own.

"He threw my rider," She told him, "I was trying to make sure that she was okay, and he ran off."

"She was quite young," He commented, obviously seeming a bit worried now. He slowed his horse down, the horse standing in front of June as she went to pet down the mare's nose. It crossed her mind that he had noticed her earlier, possibly been staring. "Was she okay?"

June shrugged, nodding. "No broken bones. Maybe a bit of broken spirit."

"You know what they say," He licked over his lip, "Gotta' get back in the saddle." It was then that a smile broke on his face, which halted her breath at the beauty of it.

She laughed at his dry humor, raising her brows. "They do say that, but I'm going to have to do a bit more training with him. He needs to be better for younger riders."

Harry threw the reins over his horse's head, June caught them in her own grip. She looked back up at him again with a small smile. "I appreciate your help– catching him and all that."

"Pretty good portion of my job," He told her, turning the horse a bit so he could face her better.

June had started to lead the horse back in the direction of where the ring and the barn were before Harry stopped her with his words.

"C'mon, hop on," He told her, shifting in his saddle, "We're almost a mile away. You don't want to have to walk."

June's eyes shifted a bit as she pulled at Fury's lead, walking backwards as she thinks about his request for a moment. It catches her off guard, but she shakes her head.

"I think I can walk," She assures him him with a chuckle. He sways a bit in the saddle as he starts after them, obviously going in the same direction.

"Didn't say you couldn't," He remarks back, June hears his tone and looks back instantly, watching his eyes lay on her. Her stomach dropped at the way his gaze felt; his words playing off the sharpness of his jaw, "Also wasn't looking for an answer, just action."

June eyed him for a moment, almost a stand off from her spot on the ground. She inhaled sharply before she bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't understand the feeling in her chest that had anchored its way down to a bit of heat. The authoritative speaking of his voice made her swallow.

"But what if I wanted to walk?"

June watches the twitch of his face when she denied him– when she didn't do as he asked. When she didn't succumb to his request; which, she was learning was more of a nice way to demand rather than request.

The man slipped off the saddle, moving away from the mare before he was now standing in front of June with her hair pulled from her face. The freckles on her nose were surrounded by a bit of sun-kiss, which the man took as a reward for being so close. His eyes trained in her for a moment before he noticed the hitch in her breath as they were toe to toe.

June subconsciously took a small step back before she felt the touch of his hand on her wrist. Her eyes stayed along the collar of the navy t-shirt that seemed a bit pulled at the collar. While a contrast to the white tank he wore yesterday, this accentuated the bronze of his skin from working out in the summer heat. The warmth of the summer sun has bronzed him, leaving the ink of his arms darker in contrast.

He took a package out of his back pocket, the cigarette between his fingers and dangling from his mouth now as his bright green eyes have a playful lift to them. She watches him teasingly as he lets it dangle from his tongue before placing one on her lip too, waiting for her lip to catch it.

She doesn't tell him that she only smokes when she can't sleep, or when she's stressed out by something her family has said. But she doesn't say anything, just sends him a smirk as they stand toe to toe. His fingers snap the lighter to his, hers next as he takes a draw.

"Anyone looking for you?" His voice was as smooth as leather as he kept his eyes directed to the way her cheeks sunk into breath in the smoke.

"Probably." She responds, drawing her lips between her teeth. She felt the stare down but folded as soon the dimple popped through the right of his cheek. "I have a lesson that should be starting."

He shrugged, "Your horse ran off, nothing you can do."

June went to speak, her head turning towards Fury before Harry looked down the gravel road towards the home– over a mile away like he had mentioned.

Her words got caught in her throat before she can respond, just putting the cigarette up to her lips before she licked her tongue over her bottom lip that had turned into a smile. June bites the inside of her cheek before she looks over Harry who's already moving away from her.

"What're you doing back here?" He asked her, his European accent ringing a bit different, "thought you moved to the city."

Her thoughts ran to the fact that he knew that much about her. She wondered if her dad had mentioned her before, or if he was just paying attention. Either way, her answer to him stayed true.

"I knew I wanted to work my way back here," June told him honestly, "I wanted to work back home. But I need to save some money."

Harry bit his lip as he held the reins of the horse, pulling his over just a bit to start back down the path. It was slow, but it was moving a bit. June knew she was late to her riding session, but she figured it would've been fine anyways– she wasn't going to let her students ride Fury at this point.

"You're young," Harry told her with a chuckle, as if he was trying to explain the world to her, "You've got to explore a bit before moving back home. How do you think I got here?"

June tucked some loose hair behind her ear, "How did you end up here, I mean? It's quite far."

"Five thousand miles, give or take." He tells her, walking alongside her now. They seem to be moving at a slower pace. Either way, Harry knew that he wanted to be next to her.

June took a last draw of her cigarette, throwing it on the gravel. "Way too far for me. I'd miss my family way too much."

Harry flicked the cigarette, the ashes falling a bit before he nodded a few times. "That's because you have a really great family," He looked ahead, chuckling a bit, which June caught before furrowing her brows. "I don't miss my family at all, truthfully. Not much to miss there. So, maybe I just don't get it."

June nodded a few times, understanding the implications and biting her lip at his words. There's silence in the air before she takes in a breath and pressed her lips together then, as if she's trying to find words to help alleviate a pressure that she added in. But, he speaks before she gets a chance to.

"I just think people maybe need to take a few more chances," He says, "Live a little more freely. What's the worst that can happen if you do what you want?"

"Well, most criminals live by that narrative," June tells him, which makes him laugh a little bit at her remarks before she looks at him with the blue eyes that he can't seem to fully grasp could be that color blue.

"Within reason." He adds, and he stops mid step before he watches as she turns to face him at his abrupt stop in the road.

June looks at him, a fluttering feeling in her stomach as his body moves, letting the leather reins go before he stops in front of her again. It's the proximity that sends her thoughts on a tailwind of what could happen next; the adrenaline pushes in her veins as she stares up at him. He's closer now than before, his head has dropped a bit so he can really look at her, but she's acknowledged that, pushing her chin up to make sure she can hear exactly what he's saying.

"Maybe it's the fact that I don't like playing by the rules, though." The smell of the tobacco was filling her nose as they stood so close. His eyes remained deferred from hers, watching the way that the lips and chin were pulling up, almost subconsciously.

"Seems a bit criminal, if you ask me." She teased, tilting her head a bit as she begged him to look at her. 

"I mean," He chuckled, letting his fingers move up to her chin as he took it between them to steady her, "It would be criminal to let you beg any longer. Bit pathetic to watch."

"Not begging." She pushed back, pulling her chin away from his grip, which tightened his jaw. She noticed the way that her defiance made him react, which sped her breathing up.

"Tell your body that, sweets," He bit, "I could say anything, and you'll react to it."

He licked over his lips, watching as she tried her best to stay calm, to keep her breath under control. Her lips were pursed, her stance was trying to stand off a bit, but he could see right through her—he saw that she was trying her best to stand on her own but knew that she would fold right then and there.

It was the game that Harry liked, he liked watching how she would react to him when he spoke to her. She was young, practically ten years younger or so, he could assume—she was so impressionable and the fight for dominance was almost sweet. Harry ached as he watched her try to stand him down and his eyes moved to her lips before they drew up to her eyes, watching the ocean waves of blue.

June pulled away, suddenly. She gave him a smirk before she clicked her tongue to have Fury follow her down the road.

"You think you've got me figured out," She called, looking back over her shoulder. "Not going to work with me, cowboy."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, watching her walk away. His eyes fell to the way that she walked, seeing the swing of her hips as a tactic to use against him. But, he did what he needed to do. He followed close behind, watching her every move—the silence in their walk back not lost on him.

"Something enticing?" June teased, noticing the way that his eyes had danced over her curves from behind. Harry's eyes lifted just a bit, settling in her eyes before he sent a wink her way.

The silence on the walk back to the barns felt good; it felt understood. It's why they both smiled to themselves, neither one seeing the other.

***

"You think I can really pull him?" June looked at Shelby, "He's older– I don't know, Shel."

"You aren't even seeing the way he looks at you," Shelby said to her friend, taking a swig of her beer. He's not taken his eyes off of her, and somehow June knows that deep inside of her, but she can't bring herself to look back at him. She's a bit timid like that; a sharp tongue when confronted, but a tail between her legs when she thinks of it.

The next night, June had gone out with her friend, Shelby, for a drink. It wasn't lost on her that the town was small. Most everyone knew each other, which made the Friday nights out on the town hard to avoid people you didn't want to see.

You really needed to want to be there, or you would be seen by someone you didn't want to see. June hadn't even thought of it when they went out, that she could possibly see him there. After their encounter yesterday morning, June had kept her distance. Not in a way that she felt was stand-offish, but in a way that felt like she was trying her best to let him come to her.

Dating and flirting weren't new to her, but the idea of playing this game scared her a bit. He wasn't new to this; they weren't trying to figure this out together like she had experienced in college. He was older than her, he had experience with this game.

It scared her a bit, because she didn't know how to handle herself in this type of situation. She wanted to come across as confident, but she knew that he had the opportunity to make her fold.

"You need to be drunker," Shelby stated, pushing her half-empty beer to her, watching as June wrapped her hands around the bottle. It was warm to the touch, not fresh in the slightest. "Let's go to the bar to get more."

June looked at her friend after downing the rest before she fully understood what that meant for her.

Shelby had gotten up, which made June follow her. The strawberry blonde realized without another second to spare that she had walked into the lion's den– eyes were on her as she approached the countertop bar.

One pair of eyes, specifically.

At first, she hadn't recognized him. Without the hat and the dirt-ridden t-shirt, she saw the way that the denim jacket hugged his back. The curls had a bit of bounce to them, and her mouth felt dry as she tried her best to divert her attention away.

But they were almost arm and arm and she had wondered if he would notice.

Of course he had. The scent of cherries and lime only made sense when his attention turned back towards a person who had brushed against him now. He had seen her across the room as soon as she came in with her short skirt and boots. He noticed the way that her waist dipped in with the form-fitting top and the slight curl to her hair.

He sat with his beer in his hand, a rowdy few friends were next to him as he kept his attention on her. June felt heat down her neck as she tried to ignore the staring but started to enjoy the feeling of being seen.

"Two whiskey sours," Shelby leaned across the bar to ask for before June looked at her with confusion, knowing that adding a bit of liquor in the mix would either make it better or worse—she didn't know. Her friend smirked at her, watching the bartender start to assemble their drinks.

June kept to herself for a moment before she heard a stealthy voice next to her. The jolt of her head towards him even surprised her as she licked over her lips at the way that he was looking at her.

"You following me, doll?"

June scoffed; her sharp tongue ready. "You don't think I have better things to do?" She quirked her eyebrow at him; feeling the closeness of them as she stood, and he sat on the barstool under the dim light of the grungy pub.

"No," He shook his head, taking a sip from his bottle before he turned to face her now. She was practically between his legs, his knees on either side of her as she stood closer to him than she thought. "I don't think you do."

He looked the same as he had yesterday morning; he was clean shaven on his cheeks, a bit of scruff on his lip and a twinkle in his eye that was undeniable among the green. A denim jacket covering his shoulders and tattooed arms that were on such display this morning. The hair sat longer on top of his head, just enough to add the definitive addition of chocolate curls.

June could barely look at him without her knees buckling at the bar top. But she took the drink from the bartender with confidence, trying to anchor herself.

"Well, you're wrong." June tells him, taking ahold of the cocktail before taking a sip and trying to play hard to get. A game she knew– a game she played far too often.

Harry watched the way she popped her hip, knowing she did it on purpose.

"I'm never wrong," He bit back, still playful. His eyes met June's, and she didn't dare look away. "So, try again."

June cleared her throat, standing against the bar as she let a breath out. What she hadn't anticipated was the way that his bent knee fell behind her own, pulling her closer between his legs at the busy bar.

June went to speak, a small gasp leaving her lips as she placed her hand on his shoulder as she lost a bit of balance. Her hair fell into his face as she felt herself push away. The smirk on his face only made her blush as she pushed off from him.

"Go on," He urged, "Try again."

She raised her eyebrows, noticing her hand still placed on his shoulder. "What if," She cleared her throat, "It's you who is following me?"

Harry took a sip of his beer, lazily, eyes staying on June as he shook his head softly.

" 'Course I am," He bit his lip, "Who wouldn't?"

His honesty came across, making her feel a bit speechless when she looked at him. She downed a good amount of the whiskey drink quickly, knowing that the quicker it went down, the quicker she'd feel it.

"Looks like what I said about criminal activity seems to be true," She let the straw of the drink rest on her tongue as she looked at him, "You're a bit no good."

"Never denied it," He downed a bit more of his drink before he raised his brow at her, "But you keep coming back, don't you?"

Her tongue rested on the straw, playing with it a little bit as she felt the flirtatious spirit running through her. The cat and the mouse were at their height, now.

"Just gathering all the facts on why I should stay away," She told him, pushing her hair back off of her shoulder. The small top only leaving little to the imagination; Harry tried to hold it together as he swallowed dryly.

"How's that working out for you?" He asked, his hand making its way to her hip as he pulled her a bit closer. June took a step, finding her balance as she stared at him for a moment. He knew the look on her face as he had seen that look a few times before.

A part of him felt the words deeper, which initiated him to reach for his wallet.

"Mind if you let me drive you home?" His voice was thick with a dry, hoarseness that only solidified her position backing into his lap.

June practically melted at his touch, his hand on her hip as she nodded a few times before turning towards him then.

"Don't think that should be a problem." She muttered over the music playing across the bar.

June's eyes found Shelby who was standing at the bar, just a few people over before she winked at them. She moved away, just so that Harry could stand on his feet as she watched the man throw a fifty down on the counter to cover the drinks.

"Drinking fifty dollars' worth and then driving me home?" Her attention turned towards the man as he gave her a lazy smile. "Feels a bit dangerous to get in the car with a drunk stranger."

"Feel like it's my job to pay for you too if I'm getting you to leave your friend to come spend time with me, hm?" Harry walked backwards a bit, reaching for her hand before they reached the door to the bar. "You looked like you were having a good time. But I got something to show you."

Her hand fit into his, her breathing escalating just a bit at the way that he maneuvered her grip, making his stronger instantly as he led them back to the Ford pickup he sport around town.

"I was having a good time," She tells him with a bit of a flirty essence, one that held a bit of attitude as far as he was concerned, "And now you're taking me from it. Wherever you're taking me must be pretty good."

Harry bit on his lip as he sniffles, scrunching his nose at her comment. Her comment only pressing his buttons.

"I'd apologize but I don't know if I'm sorry." He commented, cocking his head.

"You'll only have to apologize if I'm left disappointed–"

When they reached the blue pick-up, his hands instantly grabbed at her hips. They pushed her body into the iron to hold her captive against the side of the truck. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to ground her. She hoped there'd be a small amount of pain as a reminder of the moment.

"You're not gonna question me, are you?" He asked her with the softest voice; the threat in his tone only heightened her senses as she flinched at the way he spoke.

The inside of her thighs fluttered at his growl of a voice. "N-No," June answered, "No, no, never."

His lips brushed against the side of her ear, pulling his body away from her just for a moment before he nodded and found the moment to understand her.

"Good girl," He praised, moving his hands upwards to her waist. The slim part of her torso melted into a perfect hourglass figure. Her hips were wide and held his sight, but his hands loved the feeling of the curve.

June's breath halted at the way that he held her– at first with a physical grip so tight, and then an invisible string of persistence.

The small pub rested just on the outskirts, in the mountains, but just far enough from the ranch. The radio played lightly; the windows were rolled down as the horizon line were just baring a bit of light.

Harry had driven the truck up to one of the horse barns that sat just close to June's guest house, where she had been staying. It was a bit further on the property, but she drove past it almost every day.

"What are we doing here?" She questioned him before he opened the door. He went to the other side to help her out, taking her hand as she jumped down. He had taken her waist in his hands to help her, the touch of him on her was enough to make her breathing hitch.

"Have something to show you, I told you." He said, taking her hand in his as he led her back up to the darkened barn. When they arrived at the open door, he flickered on a switch that gave the large space a bit of light.

When they both walked into the small barn, the only lights were overhead, the sound of the crickets chirping filled the silence. June followed Harry's lead before she noticed that they stopped at the stall at the end of the row, down closer to the tack room.

"Here we are," Harry nodded, leaning his arms on the side of the stall gate. When June turned towards the mother horse and baby that were laying on the ground before them. She felt her heart melt at the sight of the small, brown foal that had two white spots on the top of its forehead.

"Oh my god," She gasped, watching as Harry smiled at her surprise. "Aren't they the sweetest thing?"

"He was born this morning," Harry leaned against the gate, watching the two horses on the ground before he turned back to June. The mare simply in awe of the small baby, seemingly tired as she laid next to him. "Needs a name."

"The ranch has a history of naming them after the stars, you know," June tells him, walking over to the little foal. His legs tucked under him, two bright white spots perfectly in the middle of his forehead.

June leans down a bit, hesitant not to scare him. Her hand reaches out to pet the small foal before she runs over hand over the white spots.

"Well, mum is Forager of Stardust," He tells her, keeping against the gate with his arms crossed, "So, we'll keep it in the family."

June starts to giggle as she turns back to Harry, eyes wide, "Ziggy Stardust– hands down, has to be."

"Ziggy Stardust? Alright, then. Sounds like a perfect name to me." Harry questions with a laugh; his smile becoming a bit more than the typical lazy one he likes to sport. June noticed that the crinkles by his eyes were a bit more defined, her nods insinuating her answer.

June turned back to the little foal before watching as his dark brown eyes blinked a few times with the lashes so long and fluttered. Her heart was built from the small creatures around the farm, the life that had been put into this lifestyle.

It reminded her of the sweetness; the parts of her life that continued to only get better the older she got and the more she enjoyed the peacefulness of simplicity.

This was it– this was the simplicity she craved. The rebirth, the gentle touches that reminded her of what life really was all about. She loved watching the ranch run on its own, watching as it grew everyday with small details.

Harry had moved towards a bale of hay that sat in the corner, taking a seat on it as he leaned against the stable wall. He watched June nuzzling the foal before she turned her head towards him again. He gave her a tilted smirk, dimple pressing into his cheek as he watched the nurturing love that nestled out of her.

"Did you grow up on a farm?" She asked, looking back at him before standing up from her spot. She managed to make her way through the tall stable hay before taking a seat on the bale with him. The small spot was snug, but neither of them seemed to mind.

"I did," He nodded a few times, "But it was a lot different. Sheep and goat, mostly. England is also a bit flatter, so it was a lot easier to ride than it is here. But I just figured that this would be a bit of an adventure."

"Think you made a good choice?" June asked, crossing her arms as her legs settled straight out just like his.

Harry raised his brows before he felt that he couldn't stop himself from smiling all the sudden. He wanted to believe that the few beers had something to do with it, hours ago now, but he knew that it wasn't. His eyes were downcast as he started to nod a few times.

"The views here are incredible." He answered, looking up at her, "But the scenery around here is good, too."

June nodded a few times, sniffling.

Harry decided to return the question, looking back at her. "Do you think you made the right choice coming back home? Assuming you liked the city, I guess."

June shrugged her shoulders, knowing that being home was always difficult in some capacity. She loved her family, loved the ease of being able to go places and knowing exactly what to expect. Home seemed to be a place that was easily accessible to her, all the time. Her family would always bring her back—she always knew that she could lean on them without an issue or judgement of feeling pressured to leave.

"I think I made the right choice to come home and to do what feels easy right now," She nodded a few times, "I think coming home from college is scary because you're like," She shrugged, "You feel like you don't have a direction anymore. You're in school practically your whole life—it's all you know. And then to think that you could go somewhere else and live a new life after that. It's just a lot. They're letting me stay in the guesthouse until I can get my bearings."

Harry understood, to some degree. But he was the opposite—if it wasn't new, it wasn't exciting. He wanted to see new things and to not see the same view twice. It meant that you weren't settled, even though the idea of settling wasn't bad. It was just different.

"It's probably good to know that you have a space in the world somewhere," He agreed, settling a bit, "I understand that. I didn't go to college, but I get that you want to feel like you're... you. And you're not having to reintroduce yourself to a new place or new people."

"My family knows exactly who I am," She smiled, "And that's what I want right now."

That was the truth—June wanted to just stay here until she was able to get her own place, maybe down the road. She could have the best of both worlds—one day she'd be able to live on her own, but still be able to stay connected to the place that felt so close to her heart. Teaching riding lessons was her only income, but it helped pay her loans and aided in her weekend ventures with her friends, specifically Shelby.

There wasn't much more she could have wanted now. Happiness seemed to manifest itself in the little things.

But, of course, after the small incident with Fury yesterday morning, she didn't know that she would have been able to trust him. It felt that there was more she could do about it, but she knew that his outbursts had been due to her lack of maintaining his trust and boundaries. He was also just an asshole half the time, and it wasn't something that she could put up with if he continued.

June sighed a bit, thinking of it when she noticed that Harry had taken interest in her sudden displeasure.

"What's wrong?" He asked. She blinked a few times, watching as he seemed to understand that her sigh was of annoyance.

"Well, I'm not going to be able to give anymore lessons until I can get Fury figured out," She shook her head, watching the man as he listened to her quandary. "I have to get him straightened out or I'll have to get another horse ready just to train on, and work with Fury until then."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he let his eyes move to the side, seeing if he would get the reaction he was looking for.

"Bet you're a real good rider, huh?" He teased, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Probably give good lessons, too."

June pulled her lips into her mouth to keep from the smirk that was approaching, but she rolled her eyes instead. "What a line."

"I'm just asking!" He lifted his hands in defense as he chuckled out a bit, "Was maybe looking into some lessons to help you out."

Their outstretched legs bumped into one another as she pulled at bent knee up to hug into her chest. "I charge a hefty fee."

Harry shrugged, running his hand through his hair. The unruly curls were a bit out of control as he sniffled gently at the way that the hay tickled his nose. "I'll pay up-front."

June shifted her jaw as she licked over her lips. It was a bit dangerous, this game that they were playing. But she had an idea in her brain that she was going to take his advice.

What was the worst that could happen?

She sat up, back straight. Her eyes were downcast as she looked over at him, then. He didn't know how to respond to her stare before he felt the way that she pushed her knee over his lap. Her hands steadily placing on his shoulder as he looked up at her with a smirk that said all of the words that she desperately needed to hear.

"Alright, then," She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, "Let me give you a lesson or two, cowboy." Her hips sank into his pelvis, pushing gently with the added pressure as she took a seat like he had inquired for.

Harry sat up a bit straighter, watching as she straightened up, too. Her skirt flowed over her thighs as he let his hands place on the outside of her hip for helping her balance. A smirk coated her blushing cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous habit.

"I'm already learning so much," He teased her, waiting for her to make another move. She thought she may have a grasp on how to approach him but became nervous as she started to take charge. It was evident to him as she settled into his lap, but he loved the initiative.

They faced one another and she bit her lip at the way that he talked to her. He paid attention to her, let his hands get to know her before he pressed further.

"Dare you to kiss me, though." He said to her, watching as she gave him a look of confusion. She chuckled at him, as she shook her head, but he just smirked, "No one can pass up a dare."

She did exactly as he had dared, pressing down so their lips met. It was like finding water in the desert as she immediately pushed forward, needing more as soon as she got a taste. Her hips rolled at the feeling of his hand making its way to the back of her neck, almost like he was guiding her closer. He was showing her what she needed without words.

The kiss allowed him to press his tongue into her mouth which elicit a whimper from her, his cock straining underneath the jeans that she had been pressing on. He followed, letting his own whimper strain out at the thought of her pressed against him. The skirt not allowing anything between them except the panties he imagined she'd have on.

Deepening the kiss, he pulled her hips forward just enough that he was allowing her hips to ride into him. The coolness of his belt made her shiver, her thighs immediately reacting to the touch.

"You wanna let me take the reins?" He offered, his voice deep and raw as he felt the closeness of them. Her back arched into him, his words giving her a break as she nodded fervently.

"Please?" She asked, practically pleading.

It didn't take any longer before he threw his arm around her, picking her up into his lap as he found the grounding of his feet. Swiftly, he held her up on his waist as she wrapped her legs around his middle, holding on as they pressed their way through the barn.

The small tack closet next to the stable was the closest they got before he threw open the door and led them in.

Harry threw her on the table, letting her sit as he continued to let his lips fall over her again and again. With her help, his hands pulled the denim off of his arms and back, pieces of clothing seem to fall off easily.

He gently allowed his hand to move to the inside of her thigh, pressing down a bit to gauge her reaction.

Her skin was hot, his eyes were down as he guided his hand to the place that she needed him most.

"Please, please," She continued to plead, his ears ringing from the way that she needed. It was so innocent and cute, almost like she hadn't any idea how badly he could wreck her.

"Turn around." He demanded, pulling away just enough to give her room to move. When she didn't, all he saw was a deer in headlights, watching him for a moment like she didn't know what he was asking of her. She swallowed, licking over her lips as she got to her feet.

Her slow movement initiated him to grab her by the hips to turn her around quickly. His hand pressed on her back, pushing her to her elbows on the deck of the tack room.

"When was the last time you were fucked?"

Her throat was tight just at the words that left his mouth; her breathing racing as she anticipated the quickness of this. She had been waiting for it; hoping he'd understand she had been quietly asking for this.

"Been a while," She answered breathlessly, her legs pushed apart as he stood behind her. The flow of the skirt barely covered over her ass before he pushed it up to reveal it all. "N-Not that long."

His eyes grew three sizes larger as he took in the detail of the black lace that lay over her milky skin.

Harry pulled himself down, letting his knees sink to the ground. His eyes were level with the lace as he quickly let his fingers rest on the waistband, pulling them off of her and down her thighs.

She gasped at the feeling, his eyes never leaving.

"Goddamn," He commented, his thumb pressing softly into her. She jerked forward at the initial contact, eyes shutting as she leaned into his touch. "Knew it," He chuckled, "Knew you'd get yourself wet for me."

His thumb moved out slowly, her reaction exactly what he wanted. She pulled back with him, wanting to be filled– he knew exactly where he needed to get her.

"Needy," He berate, his words having a bit of edge. Her eyes flickered open as she gasped at the feeling of his hand slapping the harness of her skin. His thumb removed as he spanked her again, lurching her forward. "So fucking greedy."

Her knees trembled at the feeling, left untouched as he stood behind her. The sound of his belt made her eyes shut as he undid the button on his jeans and smirked at the way she settled underneath him.

"Don't mind that we don't have a condom, right?" He asked, his hand moving to the reddened spot on her skin that she ached took feel again. He smirked, knowing the words he would say would only make her a bit restless. "Can wait if you really need me to."

Her head turned around, her lips a bit raw from where she had been nibbling on it.

"No," She shook her head, "No– no. I'm safe, we're okay." She pleaded, and his smirked lifted at her neediness.

His hands pulled on her hips to arch just a bit for him. June quickly felt the teasing way his tip pressed against her soaked cunt, her hands turned white knuckled as she gripped tightly onto the wood. It was just the feeling alone– she hadn't even seen him, but her anticipation was high.

"Just letting you know," He pressed the tip right into the softness between her, giving her a sensation of euphoria just from how turned on she had been. She let out a moan, her eyes shutting. "We play by my rules. When I say down, you go down. When I say suck, you suck. No backtalking. I'm giving you the best fuck of your life, so you listen to me to get what I know you want. Got it?"

He hadn't even given her a reason to moan, her words caught in her throat as she nodded with. A subtle whimper— the strawberry blonde hair flinging over her shoulder as he moved it away. His lips found their home on the back of her neck, sucking gently at the skin.

"You're going to be such a good girl, though, aren't you? You would never disobey me, huh?" He cooed; his lips continued to ravish at her hair line as she threw her head back in an ache to feel the pleasure he was offering.

June's hips moved back gently, but his hands gripped at her before she could push herself onto him. The slight action gave him a sense of power; his hand smacking onto the curve of her.

The cracking sound familiar to one of a whip— she gasped at the feeling, her eyes closing shut just at the pain that radiated in such a burning sensation.

"Fuck," She whispered, knowing that she was simply dripping at the need. She had never been in a position of such need— she had never needed someone to give her what she needed in such a way that it brought tears to her eyes just to think about it. "I-I'm sorry— I—"

"I'm not." He stated, his breath hot on her neck. A coolness laying underneath—the metal of the cross hitting at her shoulder when he grabbed her hips towards him. When he pushed in, it took a fluid motion before they both moaned out in pleasure. It was a shock of intensity that Harry had truly never felt before.

Sure, he'd been in this position before— but like this? He had been with beautiful women, seen beautiful things. But the enticing scent of wildflowers and sweet vanilla only flourished as his nose brushed the softness of her shoulder.

Harry tried to keep his composure— trying to follow the red behind his eyes, but suddenly feeling the urge to cum at any moment which made him a bit nervous at the quick build-up. It was exceptionally better than he had expected; he had been more turned-on than he had thought.

His forehead rested on her shoulder blade; the small strap of her tank-top the only small detail that was between his forehead and her skin. Harry bit his lip slightly as he wondered when he would be ready to pull out to continue fucking her into an oblivion that would send her to the stars.

But he felt incredibly, incredibly close to the edge just at the initial feeling of her. He grunted in a bit of frustration as he shook his head to try to clear all the thoughts that had gathered there. The curls of his hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. His hands kneaded into the fleshy skin that curved over the small skirt that still rested on her thighs. He had just pushed it up enough to give himself access to what he really needed.

Focus, he thought to himself.

"You are so goddamn tight," He watched as her back arched a bit at his words. Her chin turned to the side, just enough where he could now see her side profile. Her eyes were shut, mouth parted in a small, dainty way. "No one's fucked you in a while, have they, darling? You lie to me?"

Harry pulled himself out just a bit, watching where they connected as he felt himself slip back in. The tightness surrounding him made his eyes clamp shut. She felt incredible to him on every level that he couldn't think of anything else that moment.

It was dizzying.

"N-No, not like you— not like this," June muttered. The way that her hands gripped over the table in the tack room was almost pain to her fingertips. "You're so deep, fuck."

The sound of her voice elicits a response of his hips bucking into her, the rasp and grunt of June's voice painted a beautiful picture in his memory.

"You like me deep like that?"  Harry licked over his lips, eyes moving down her body as he moved his leg to her thigh. "Pull this up on the table— go on," He urged, "it'll be good for you."

June felt the pat on her thigh, Harry's hands slid the remaining clothes down her legs to leave her completely free on the bottom. He pulled out for a moment to help her lift her leg, balancing herself as she felt suddenly empty without him filling her up.

Watching as she lifted her leg on the table, pushing herself up, Harry dropped to his knees as he took in what he saw. A certain hunger elicits his eyes as he grabbed onto the back of her thighs, spreading them apart. In an instant, she felt the spit on her already dripping cunt as his mouth attached to her almost like it was made for his lips to wrap around.

Her head drew back at the feeling of his mouth on her, the knot in her stomach was undoubtedly loosening as she felt the nudge of his tongue against her clit; the feeling of his nose gracing her. In the last twenty-four years, she had never been blessed with a partner that would have given her the opportunity to feel this way. She had never been with an older man before, either.

Maybe her innocence had been brushed away by the complete raging needs of his wandering hands.

Either way, she didn't know if she could get any better than this. The softness of his tongue with a stiff edge and control, the scruff of his upper lip taunting her as he spread her thighs further apart while his mouth took her from behind.

"Could ruin you in so many ways." Harry hummed, his tongue dripping from her arousal that coated it. "You want me to ruin you, doll?"

Her hair fell into her face as she nodded fervently, her hand pushing the locks away as she tried to catch a glimpse of him but leaned forward instead.

"Yes— I want you to ruin me, please." Her voice was a shy, timid tone but it held all of the power of her needs. He knew exactly what she needed, and he would gladly give her every bit of it.

Harry immediately felt the words go straight to his cock; the feeling of arousal only tempting him further and further. What was it about this girl that gave him such an issue? He hadn't always been so easy to please, but something about the way that she moved her hips, her small movements only made him want to be rougher.

A girl that didn't know what she wanted was always the best— it was the moment when she found exactly what she was looking for, but never knew how to express it that made him cum the hardest. Harry wanted to push every ounce of her until she was begging for it.

June lurched forward just a bit as he stood back up from his position, moving to enter her once again. The slickness of his spit mixed with her arousal created the perfect lubrication that guided his swiftly back into her.

Deeper this time— much deeper. He held onto her thighs, pushing his hips into her at a steadier rate as the soft hums of her whimpers started to go deeper and become significantly more adulterated versions of moans. He felt the way he slipped in and out of her like she had been made to pleasure him.

"Keep quiet," He urged, "You're going to get us into trouble if someone hears us."

"I want them to hear how good you're fucking me," She urged, a whimper coming out as he slowed his motions to tease her further. "Fucking me so good."

He leaned in a bit close to her ear, pulling back her neck as her body contorted to meet his needs. She was in his grasp, only moving in the way that he needed her to. His hand pulled at her throat; the coolness of his undone belt buckle was against her thigh as he pushed in completely to get as close to her as possible.

The moan that escaped her lips was cut short by the hand that cupped over her mouth, which only pushed her further.

"You're going to be quiet or I'm going to pull out, do you understand me?" His voice was deep, low, and cold as she shut her eyes to the sound of it. She felt the push of two of his fingers into her mouth, a surprise at first. "Brats get punished and I'm going to leave your little cunt wanting more if you don't listen."

June hadn't felt this way in years— there had never been a man to satisfy the needs that had been built up in this way. It really hadn't been that long since she hooked up with someone, but she had never felt this way in her entire life. She had never felt this full— this satisfied. It was extraordinarily rough— it was to the point where she hadn't ever known a pleasure like this before.

She couldn't have imagined this.

"You understand?"  He says finally; she hadn't recognized that he had truly been waiting for a response before continuing. She had concluded that his pleasure was aided with being in charge. June couldn't understand the way that she became extremely, unbelievably pleasant for him. A few more thrusts pushed her to the brink of extraordinary delight before she dipped her head at the throbbing feeling between her legs.

"I understand— I do, I do, fuck– fuck." She whimpered out, unaware of the way that his thrusts had pushed on her enough that her muscles involuntarily ached as her orgasm became all the sudden wet— a solid gasp releasing her lips as she felt him pull out just at the feeling.

Harry's eyes darkened to a color of coal before he watched her inevitably drip down her own legs, the sight only causing his own mind to fall to a place of filth and absolute insanity. The gushing liquid was only a sight that he never thought he'd see like that– especially from her.

The innocent act was truly just an act.

"Jesus Christ," He commented under his breath, a bit taken by the sight. He choked back for a moment before he looks at the way he left her cunt dripping with need over the dark brown boots that had pushed her legs open. "So, fucking messy, aren't you?"

He watched the way that June's breathing heaved for a moment before he let his hand run down her spine— almost like she had been a bit surprised, like she hadn't expected her body to do anything like that.

Harry paused for a moment, watching to make sure that she was okay. Even in the rough moments, he watched to see if she seemed alright— his head tilting a bit as he hadn't heard anything else from her. A small coax from his hand on the small of back made him pause for a moment.

"Hey," He spoke quietly, "You're okay, doll, hm?"

June felt extremely exhausted already, almost like her body had started to fail her with how her legs trembled in this position. Her head turned back to look at him, a small nod coming from her without any words as she tried to find herself back in the moment.

It was an odd feeling in his chest as he started to feel an ache that went from extremely vile— filthy as he fucked this girl against the tack closet desk, to a sense of vulnerability that he made have started to push her a bit further than she was ready for. She didn't know it until her body was giving her pleasure that she hadn't felt before.

In an attempt to aid in some relief, especially to the legs that shook a bit more than a small foal, he pulled June back to a standing position. Her confusion on her face was obvious before Harry grabbed her by the waist to place her on the end of the desk instead. The skirt that had been pulled around her thighs had been pulled down completely.

"Get you off your legs so I can finish you off without you falling out on me," He told her with a sly smile, "Anyone ever made you feel this good?"

He watched the girl— completely wrecked with a face of pure softness. Her eyes were dazed, her attention stayed on him as he she shook her head. He felt better that she was conscious, even if he had taken practically everything from her.

"I can tell," He tells her softly before he tucks the hair out of her face, "Sorry you've been so deprived," Harry comments, "Would've done it for you sooner, if I would have known. Good thing I know now, hm? Won't let this happen again, angel, promise.

The feeling of their lips presses together as June grabs at her thigh so that Harry can move into the position between her legs once again. His tongue tastes like tobacco, a hint of the gum that he had been chewing.

Harry pressed the tip of his cock back into her to finish what he had started. His muscles ached in his abdomen as he felt himself tense at the feeling through a few more thrusts as he faced her now.

"Feels so, so good," June's words had whimpered out of her, a bit surprising at how quiet she had been and started to become even more so. "I-I'm— it's— fuck. Please, please more."

Harry's hands had made their way to her hips, making sure she had been pulled completely to the front of the desk so that he could feel her deeper. His vision moved down to the place where they connected; a hint of heat on the back of his neck as he thought of the moment more intrinsically.

"C'mon," He coaxed, their noses brush as he lets his forehead rest against hers. His breathing hitched for a moment as he felt her hand move to grab at his bicep. "C'mon, give me one more. You can do it."

His hips snapped further into her; June breathed into his mouth with a hot gasp as she screwed her eyes shut at the feeling of his cock nudging at a place that elicit such a firework of intensity that she hadn't ever felt before. It didn't matter how many college nights, bar hookups, serious relationships— none of those had the control that Harry had over her.

This was a feeling that he had crafted to ensure that the other person felt extraordinarily vulnerable and taken. She recognized that she wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last. 

She was okay to just be his right now.

"Mm," She bit on her lip at the thought of what had caused her to be sent over the edge prior. She wanted to know what to ask for; she didn't know what she needed, but she was certainly going to try. "W-Want you to...to c-call me a slut," she said with a small voice, just heard between them. Her eyes had turned away from him with a sheepish-shy feeling. "Need it."

Harry paused for a moment before he let his hand move to underneath her chin, propping her up to look into his eyes. He needed her to say it to him— needed to see her embarrassed and shy, wanting him to treat her like a one-night rather than a forever.

"I only call it like it is," He tells her with a grin carved like a devil, "I just have to call you a slut so you drench my cock? Is that it?" He knew he had to push her further, get her to a place in her head where she felt sexy, where she felt loose to the point of unraveling. "Letting me fuck you in a little closet on your daddy's ranch— such a pretty little brat." 

"Fuck me," She whined, knowing that her words would travel if she were any louder. "I-I'm gonna–"

"Do it." He coaxed.

Just at the sound of his words, he could feel the way that she unwound herself— simply, he didn't recognize that his words really did have the effect. His lips part as he watched her body fully shake with a convulsion the wetness coated his front with a small spray of her. Drenching his clothes and their boots as they sat with gasping breaths, he stared at the way that her pussy reacted to him, wondering how his words affected her so easily.

She was wrecked.

"That's such a good fucking girl," Harry told her softly, pressing himself back in, nodding fervently as he reassured her. Her cry was let out of the feeling of sensitivity that came after her explosive orgasm.

His hand placed on the back of her neck, pulling her forward a bit as he snapped his hips harder into her so that he could reach a place of pure euphoria. He couldn't begin to replay the actions of her pretended innocence, wondering if he would ever get to see anything like it agan. "Not going to last—fuck."

In an instant, his muscles tensed with an aching feeling that pushed his hips deeper into hers. Harry's lips placed themselves on her neck, kissing at the spots with a gentle softness—he knew what he had been in for in this intense, heated hook-up, but his cock had found a ferocious love for finishing inside of her all of the sudden.

It was all encompassing.

"Shit– shit." He hadn't even thought of the repercussions of not having the condom but needing to be careless for a few moments of time. He fell into her grip, holding onto her softly as he felt their breathing becoming less heavy.

June's legs were wrapped around his hips like an anchor, her head sat heavy on his shoulder as he mustered up the courage to pull away. He didn't really want to pull out completely, knowing it felt too good to let his cock feel the tight confines of her walls.

He slowly pulled his hips back, letting the mess fall out with him.

"Oh, fuck." He muttered under his breath, watching the display of a horribly sexual sight. One that someone would pay money to see. "I've never felt anything like that."

The way that she breathed against the wall, up on the table. Her eyes were shut as she held herself up and wondered if her choices had been worth it. She blinked a few times, almost like her body was now shutting down after the intensity of their passionate love affair.

Harry waited for her to respond to him, to look at him. He watched as her chest raised and lowered, knowing she was still breathing, but seemed to be missing from behind her eyes.

"Hey," He pulled her back from against the wall, whispering to her sweetly as he felt himself breathing a bit fast, too. "C'mon, doll, we should go clean up. I think we can sneak out the back."

Her movements felt heavy as Harry tried his best to bring her back to her feet. When he felt that she was steady enough, he let go of her to place his jeans and belt back into place, watching her shakily redress herself. The quietness of the small tack closet didn't hinder them, as Harry placed a kiss along her cheek before he let his hands fall on the doorknob.

"I'll go first and then you can follow me," He tells her, watching her nod in agreement. "Front door or back door?" He asks, in reference to the small guest house that June had been staying in. Her breathing had finally fallen into place. The desperation of need still on her eyes, which only excited him to get her back alone.

"Back." She tells him, quietly. Using her words wasn't so bad, but her legs became a bit unsteady, so she held onto the table behind her.

Before he opens the door, Harry gives her a quick once over. His eyes land on her lips before he steps forward to leave a kiss along her pout, letting her sink into him once again. The taste of her instantly feeds him as he groans into the feeling.

It was about time he found the feeling everyone told him he should be looking for. It was a myth for so long, but just in the way that he lips melted into his was enough to make to him blush. Her hands in his hair at the back of his neck, the feeling of her nails along his jaw settled his need for the moment before he pulled back and gave her another peck.

"Don't be too long," He told her, "Don't want to have to wrangle you back to me." 

She smirked at his challenge as he opened the door to slip out. Her eyes shut at the way moved, closing the door behind him. A settled feeling in her chest only made her stumble back just a bit, letting herself rest on the table before she took in a solid breath.

Home had seemingly never felt so right.

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 8 : Arkham Creeping with Dan pt.2

[ꀸꍏꈤ꓄ꍟ-ꉓꍟꈤ꓄ꋪꀤꉓ ꉓꃅꍏꉣ꓄ꍟꋪ]

[ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 29, 12:00 ᴀᴍ, ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ ᴀꜱʏʟᴜᴍ]

Dante lit a cigarette as he slowly heard the hoovesteps of Fright Knight's Mare. "My liege, you have called." Fright Knight hopped off his Mare and Kneeled Behind Dante who was looking over Arkham Asylum from afar.

"Yes yes.... I have indeed. We have been given permission to take a new victim.. isn't that fun frighty?" Dante chuckled as he breathes out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. Fright Knight perked up, seemingly from slight excitement at a new victim from the 'mortal plane'. Dante laughed "Excited you are and so am I. He dare hurt our little Ghost Prince, and thus he must pay the price of Torture and The Endless Torture Of The Nightmare Realms." He turns around to glance at Fright Knight, Fright kept his head down but even the Mare is Excited and hyped up by this.

"We can't take any more, any less. Just one. Soul by the name of Jonathan Crane. Let's Depart." Dante floated and went invisible as he closes in on Arkham Asylum.

"May we have fun Tonight." Dante laughed silently his hair transforming back to it's original Flamey White Form, his eyes crimson red with Green Rimmings and Pupils white and slit like that of a cat.

"The Nightmare Realms Await your Damnation." Fright Knight said as he hops back on his Mare and became Invisible as he followed his Master.

[ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 30, 9:00 ᴀᴍ, ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴏʀ, ʙᴀᴛᴄᴀᴠᴇ]

┈◈◉◈┈┉[𝙳𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚜𝚘𝚗 & 𝚃𝚒𝚖 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙿𝙾𝚅]┉┈◈◉◈┈

"This is... So gruesome- his head is completely crushed but not by something, and it can't be possibly someone unless-" Tim Sputters out in a fast Speaking pace but Dick Interrupts. "Calm Down Baby Bird, Slow Down your talking, let's look at the cameras again okay? Breathe." Dick demonstrates breathing slowly in and out and Tim replicates that slowly calming himself down.

"Okay..." They review the camera clips of Scarecrow's Cell, they couldn't see much as the clip was obviously corrupted with... Green and Red Glitches. They can hear some voices.

["ｍ𝔂 𝕃Ɨ𝑒𝕘𝑒 𝓱𝐚丂 𝓭𝑒ĆƗ𝓭𝑒𝓭 𝐓𝓱𝐚𝐓 𝔂Øย 𝔀Ɨᒪᒪ ๒𝑒 卩ย𝐍Ɨ丂𝓱𝑒𝓭 ย卩Ø𝐍 м𝔂 ĆØмм𝐚𝐍𝓭, ⓕØя 𝓱ยя𝐓Ɨ𝐍𝕘 Øยя 卩яƗ𝐍Ć𝑒 𝔂Øย 丂𝓱𝐚ᒪᒪ 卩𝐚𝔂 𝐓𝓱𝑒 卩яƗĆ𝑒 𝔀Ɨ𝐓𝓱 𝔂Øยя 𝑒𝐓𝑒я𝐍𝐚ᒪ 𝓭𝐚м𝐍𝐚𝐓ƗØ𝐍 Ɨ𝐍 𝐓𝓱𝑒 ƤƗ𝐓丂 Øⓕ 𝐓𝓱𝑒 ⓝƗ𝕘𝓱𝐓м𝐚я𝑒 ⓡ𝑒𝐚ᒪм."] The voice said, it was all static and clicks and hisses, Tim could barely translate it. Trying to find and piece the sounds together but he fails miserably instead.

"It hurts in the ears.... Something is clearly not right and I don't like it. The other population in Arkham are also Terrified, especially the ones near Scarecrow's Cell." Tim flips through the Files, "They Described seeing a man with a Flame like White Hair Walking down the halls past their cell towards Scarecrow's, and a ... Horse?? A Black horse with wings, fangs and Red Glowing Eyes that's being ridden by a Black Armored Knight that also had Red Eyes. One of them claimed to having nightmares about that said Entity upon making eye contact." Tim states seeing the sketches the 'people' near Scarecrow's Cell have made.

One of them sketched out a terrifying picture of said horse and it's rider. It's like something out of a horror movie. "... So... A flame like white hair man and a knight with a terrifying Horse, okay- wow- that's a lot of information that I will never honestly understand. The thing now is ... Did they, were they the one who crushed Scarecrow's skull into bits and pieces? Maybe I should call Raven after all—" Dick said nervously, and oddly terrified of the drawings, it's as if they're staring right at their souls, sentient and about to go hunting.

Nightwing/Dick adjusts his Suit's Neck trying to shake off the feeling of this chilling fear. Tim folds the papers and puts them in the files back again, also getting cold and chilled. "Maybe it IS supernatural? A demon? Maybe. Maybe a demon but there has to be a motive somewhere, there's Always a motive, did Scarecrow make a deal with a demon? Possible , or maybe this demon had a grudge but why a grudge? What's the cause??" Tim scratches his head trying to review every single footage given to him but he freezes.

"Oh fuck." Tim backtracks and plays the video footage on rewind and pauses at the right time. "A CLEAR FRAME! FUCK YEAH!" Tim yelled out loudly feeling victorious.

"Language Young Master Tim." Alfred corrects him as he places the cup of coffee by his desk, "Ah sorry Alfred and thank you for the coffee.... Just got caught up in this Case." Tim says as he sat back down.

"It's quite alright Young Master Tim, but Remember, indoor voice." Alfred smiles gently and Tim just nods, Alfred Walked off leaving Dick and Tim by themselves again.

Tim analyzes the blurry but not too glitched photo and trying to make out a picture and a clear frame of the suspect's face. The Man was looking at the camera with an obvious grin, his face was more glitchier than the others around but it was obvious his eyes were glowing and a piercing red with Green Rimmings. His Hair was indeed flame-like.

"Maybe, just maybe this person or demon or SOMETHING is in our system." Tim was frantic and desperate now trying to find this... Terrifying thing.

One File Came Up in the Bat-Computer.

"Dante.. Jamie Masters...?" Tim questioned himself. Because this was the Bartender of his Local Coffee Shop, and The Bartender who he got along with because of His Baby Brother.

Wait.

Didn't his Baby Brother Get Caught In the Fear Toxin Attack...? Was that.... The motive?

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Dante plopped into bed as he finished washing the blood off his body, He was pleased with himself and what he has done, his core purred in happiness for it has been so long since he's done something like this, not after his redemption for Danny.

╔⏤⏤╝𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐧(𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝)╚⏤⏤╗

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤

....𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞.𝐩𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡 : 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢����.

𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐇!!!! 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 : 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐰, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 :3

....𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞.𝐩𝐧𝐠

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 : 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞

𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 : 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓. 𝐇𝐔𝐇?? 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓- 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆?? 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑??

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃!

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡 : 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫/𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬//:𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤/𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰-𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝-𝐢𝐧-𝐡𝐢𝐬-𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥...

𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 : 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐌- 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔-

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝 : 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.

𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄!!

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐞.

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝 : 𝐒𝐀𝐌!! 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊!!

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 𝐍𝐮𝐡-𝐮𝐡

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝:𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐔𝐇-𝐔𝐇???!?!?

Dante laughed as he read the messages very amused by their reactions, although it's concerning that kids like them find this normal but then again they've been through worse and Trauma so it's reasonable for now—

..╔⏤⏤⏤╝𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬╚⏤⏤⏤╗

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬: 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐛.

Dante stared at the Message pleased with himself. Not knowing he's about to get into a lot of shit because of one single frame that recognizes him.

Oh well, he'll get away with it... Maybe.

GHRAAAAH anyways

:33, that's the end for Dan Mission XD now it's gonna be Dan getting JL and JLD's attention because of a single frame, RIP.

Translation for the Glitched Text :

["𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐦."]

Enjoy as always. <33.

[spacedace]

Had some more random ideas for the Accidentally God Queen of Clones Elle and her Amnesiac Knight Champion Kon AU (which really is a prompt a swear, ignore all the details/too many ideas I don't know enough about DC to be able to write this, so I'd anyone sees anything they like in any of this go wild ❤️)

- Tim doesn't take his mask off while in Elle's lair so Kon doesn't put together the fact that Tim is the mystery boy he kinda remembers. Leading to Kon saying that he hopes to one day find the boy he was in love with while Tim is trying to help him get his memories back, which then has Tim spiraling that Kon had a secret boyfriend that he never told Tim about before going missing.

- Elle and the rest of the Clone Club realizing immediately that Tim has to be The Guy and deciding to run with this chance for chaos and matchmaking. They lie about being able to send Tim back immediately and that he's gonna have to stay for awhile, but hey he can room with Kon! Ignore the fact that there are hundreds of rooms in this place, Kon has a big bed and is great at snuggles!

- When Kon became Elle's Knight, he started getting trained by Fright Knight & Pandora. He gets really good at fighting with just about every weapon (baring firearms) imaginable as a result.

- Fright Knight also insisted on teaching Kon all the other stuff outside of fighting a knight must know including the code of chivalry and the "Seven Points of Agilities" which sounded fine to Kon (learning how to ride horses/Night Mares and how to joust were both cool & expected) up until he was learning how to waltz with the giant ghost of fear as his partner. And don't get him started on having to both be able to recite and write love poetry (Elle, at least had fun, though that really came from laughing at his expense).

- He has tattoos now, some sentimental or just because he likes them, but he also has an ornate sword going down his back, and a shield split across both firearms that appears whole when he holds them together. The sword and shield are actually his (magical/ghost made) weapons that disappear from his skin when he summons them and return when he's done with them.

- Baddass and beautiful ornate (but practical and very comfortable!) Knight armor! It has filigree! And a cape!

- Instead of his sword sending people to the Nightmare Dimension, instead his shield can reflect attacks back at people (it's made to be used for ectoplasm based attacks, but can be used to deflect lazers).

- When Kon surrenders to the Justice Leage, he is wearing his armor, though sans helmet (which Pandora & Fright Knight are gonna kill him for later, helmets being a key features in the whole not dying portion of fighting has been something they've been yelling at him about for ages) and seeing Kon in ethereal knightly armor makes Tim bluescreen for a bit because damn.

- Kon falling in love with Tim and feeling conflicted because his mystery boy is out there somewhere, while Tim is just agonizing over the fact that Kon never told him about mystery boy and oh god did Kon not trust him with that?

- Elle gets Fright Knight in on the match making by telling him it'd be a good way for Kon to practice chivalry. Fright Knight takes this as an opportunity to make Kon recite his bad poetry (written about Tim both in terms of Kon writing about mystery boy and writing about Red Robin). It's truly awful. Tim loves it.

[lovevampiremh]

I just realized that Kieran Valentine really shouldn’t have a “full name” from MH lore reasons.

Like if you look at a list of all the vampires on the MH Wiki you will notice that most vampires in G1 specifically only have a ‘Singular’ name VS. a “Full” name.

Characters like Batsy Claro and Olympia Wingfield are not actual Vampires. Batsy is a vampire bat. And Olympia is a hybrid. Specifically a Fright-mare based on a vampire bat.

Bram Devein and Gory Fangtell are a web-toon vampire couple that came from a vampire school. And they are never really seen out of those webisodes.

Rose and Blanche Van Sangre are vampire Romani sisters. but they are also racist/racially insensitive and the6 only show up in side books. (These two should definitely not be included for evidence)

Now Justin Biter is someone that does have a “full” name. However he’s a celebrity. And honestly it’s probably a stage name. (look at Elissabat, aka Veronica Von Vamp)

Count Fabulous - So I’m putting this dude here because he’s actually a vampire stuck in bat form. And his name is legitimately Count Fabulous because Draculaura named him that. (And not Count because of a title like Stoker, Gorelock, Dracula) She has no clue what she’s actually taking care of. Note the picture is from box art.

Yeah……

Anyways that leaves:

Alexander - Ramoanah’s nephew

Dracula - Dracula himself

Draculaura - Dracula’s daughter

Elissabat - Vampire queen, Stoker’s niece, aka Veronica Von Vamp

Gorelock - Count Gorelock (he’s in a singular book)

Ramoanah - Draculaura’s stepmom

Stoker - Lord Stoker

Thad - Dracula’s nephew and Draculaura’s cousin

So what I’ve noticed is that every one left on the list seems to have been raised “traditionally”. To me this means that vampire tradition only gives a first name. (Even Valentine was originally under this tradition as his first name was only released when his doll was). So this means that either Kieran Valentine was not a “traditional Vampire” (but we see him under Stoker’s name in the family tree) or Kieran is his human name that he kept because he was essentially kidnapped by Roman Vampires (the romans are why the term barbarian exists and it was racism towards the Celtic nations) and as an Irish vampire he wouldn’t give up where he came from.

But essentially Kieran Valentine should only be called Valentine when looking at who he’s connected to.

[mkarchin713]

Pariah “the closest I’ve come to human children are halfas and liminals” Dark: you mean kids don’t naturally fly and have super strength

….

On an unrelated note

Fright Knight is Pariahs farmhand. He is being punished for not freeing his master by being forced to shovel manure.

Danny is Pariahs heir and the Ghost Prince. Danny won’t be ruling anything until he’s a adult (over a hundred years dead). Pariah adopted Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Wes and Ellie too. He wasn’t going to break up his heirs Fright.

This is a Dark Ages ship (Clockwork/Pariah). Alfred is clockwork in disguise. How else do you think he keeps Wayne Manor spotless. He freezes time and makes Dan clean as part of his parole.

Pariah feeds whatever kryptonite he finds on the meteor impact site that is now his farm to his horses like sugar cubes.

Pariah went crazy in the first place because some moron dumped a bunch of chemicals and shit in the water of Pariahs favorite hot spring in the living world. (IE Lazarus Pits are ghost hot springs + Ra’s tainted the waters = Pariah had Pit Rage)

The Justice League summons the Ghost King for his help with a certain something [you can decide what that is].

They expected something mighty, something that screamed royalty and was distinctly something other.

What they didn't expect, was for the Ghost King to appear in nothing but farmer attire, holding a bush, and humming.

Now, you see. Pariah Dark was enjoying his retirement, sure, he was still King, but in reality, the Ghost Zone no longer needed a king since it fell into Anarchy and sure, he could've just forced everything back together under his lone rule. But then a small koi passing through time whispered within his ear a most tempting offer.

And, well, he truly was unable to resist such temptation.

So, there he was, enjoying his afterlife on earth (or one of many) on a farm. His day started as normally as it would any other, waking up (and isn't that such an unusual thing?), fixing his bedding, taking a shower, preparing breakfast, eating said breakfast, and out the door to start his day.

All things that humans do, something he never thought he would do, but such a thing was... actually quite nice.

He walked around his farm, tending to his crops, taking care of any offending intruders upon his small kingdom, and picking up the ones that were ready to sell. Then he took out a brush and got to one of the best parts of his days.

Brushing his horses.

So of course, he had to be ripped away from his daily reward in the midst of a summoning. He was very disappointed, to say the least, he got used to not using his powers often in his new afterlife, so him not falling to the ground was purely his lower body strength.

He stopped humming, sighed, placed the brush in his pocket and looked over at the people who summoned him, vaguely recognizing them as that one group humans... liked? Raged? He doesn't know the exact words they used nowadays.

Okay, he could do this, he could be nice.

"What pathetic mortal creatures would dare summon a being higher than themselves."

Or not.

[phieral]

﹙ 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇: 𝐶𝑂́𝑀𝐼𝐶𝑆 𝑀𝐻 ﹚𝄒ㅤ ㅤⓘㅤ 🪽

ㅤ 𝄢 Soy Phieral, o Phi. En esta Masterlist encontrarán todos los cómics y novelas gráficas de Monster High. Los pedidos están siempre abiertos, si hay algo que te gustaría que traduzca, estaré encantada.

♱⎯⎯ 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐼𝐿𝑆𝑇𝑆 𝑀𝐻: 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝐸𝑅𝐴𝐿 | 𝐷𝐼𝐴𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑆 | 𝐶𝑂́𝑀𝐼𝐶𝑆

𐔌♫ྀི PRIDE 2024 ・“I Put A Spell on You” ・“Summer Fangout”

𐔌♫ྀི POWER GHOULS ・“Polterghoul” ・“Wonder Wolf” ・“Voltageous” ・“Cat Tastrophe” ・“Webarella”

𐔌♫ྀི HOPES AND SCREAMS ・“Intro” ・“Hissy Fit” ・“Hot Couture” ・“Stage Fright” ・“Lost and Sound” ・“These Boots Were Made For Rolling” ・“Scream All About It!” ・“Behind The Screams!”

𐔌♫ྀི I ONLY HAVE EYE FOR YOU ・“Intro” ・“Bull's Eye” ・“Locketness Monster” ・“Party Monster” ・“Shock and Awww!” ・“Table for None” ・“Shadow of a Doubt”

𐔌♫ྀི WEBCÓMICS ・“Who Are the Fright-Mares?”

𐔌♫ྀི NEW SCAREMESTER ・“Free Comic Book Day 2024” ・“New Scaremester 1” ・“New Scaremester 2”

ㅤ 𔘓 ﹙ 𝔓HI⎯⎯ 𝐸𝑅𝐴𝐿 ﹚ 🪦 ̸̷ׅ ׄ ㅤ “𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖” ultima vez act. 12 de julio de 2024

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

The Heart of Your Home pt 4

Summary: Arthur comes across a woman in need. What he thought was a simple good deed would take him down a much further path than anticipated.

Warnings: Cursing, there is mention of canon-typical violence, bodily injury, and brief smut in this chapter.

Word Count: 8,072

A/N: This chapter was a blast to write...things are coming along nicely!

It seemed to be warmer than usual today. The sun beamed down on the shawl on your back as you quietly trotted down the beaten path toward Valentine. It was beautiful out, and you decided not to waste the day inside. 

You’d told Frederick your plan; restocking simple ingredients in town. The reality was though you just wanted to enjoy being out and about for a little while. Another cold rainstorm swept through New Hanover over the previous days, once again drenching the land in dreary cold wetness. Mud was fresh and splattered against your mare’s hooves and the bottom of your boots, though you hardly minded. 

It was smart to stay inside while Frederick handled business, you knew that well enough. He’d arrived back home just yesterday. After a warm welcome and a desperately needed night spent together, you were itching to be free from the confines of your homestead. Funny, it almost seemed as if you were switching places.

The thought made you snort; you couldn't handle business like him, and you knew he couldn't cook or perform any sort of housekeeping to save his life. Switching places would surely doom the both of you to return to your original home. 

But as he kept assuring you, soon he wouldn't have to travel as much. Soon you would be wealthy enough to acquire household help. Soon, soon, soon. 

You sighed at the thought, reflecting the very same images that danced in your mind just days before. Bright-faced children running amuck in the yard, while you and Frederick watched on fondly from a spacious porch. When he was home, his optimism drove those dreams a bit closer to reality. He’d return from his trips with a few more stacks of money, as well as a gift to adorn you with. This time it was a ruby necklace that sat against your collarbone, the stone heavy against the hollow of your throat. You idly touched it on occasion, not used to having something that large and expensive. It may be worth more than your wedding ring. 

Thundering hooves nearby ripped you from your thoughts. You looked up, expecting to see someone ride past you in a hurry, only to spot a riderless horse. It appeared in the right side of your vision to cross your path just a few yards ahead. Its gray coat shone slick in the sunlight, stirrups flying free against its flank as the beast streaked by, head high in fright and ears forward. 

You blinked in surprise, and then gasped in surprise. It only took you a second to recognize which horse that was. 

Whose horse that was. 

The poor stallion seemed frightened, disappearing into the brush off to your left just as the crack of a gunshot fired somewhere nearby, followed by many more. You flinched, and your mare scooted beneath you in her own sheer anxiety. A shrill cry escaped your mouth as you clung on to the saddle, willing yourself not to slide off into the mud below. She quieted a moment later, although your body was still tense and your heart raced. Gunfire could mean anything... 

There hadn’t been any more commotion following, but sheer concern is what kept you rooted in the spot. Glancing toward where the stallion ran and back to where the gunshot originated, you quickly decided the next move. Whatever caused that gunshot signified danger, and you'd best avoid it for now, even when your growing anxiety for who might be involved gnawed at your insides. 

Steering your mare off the path, you dismounted just before the thicket of bushes and trees, standing on your toes to peer through the leaves and branches in hopes of spotting the runaway horse. Unfortunately it was too thick to see, and you sighed and forged ahead, pushing aside the greenery while half stumbling on roots. It wasn't long until the snowcapped Ambarino mountains loomed in the distance. A sheer cliff dropped into the ravine below. Movement caught your attention, and the stallion appeared in your view, pacing anxiously along the edge. You were thankful he was smart enough to stop before toppling over to certain death. 

“Hey,” you say, gentle but loud enough to catch the beast’s attention. His ears pricked and his head raised, a loud snort expelling from his nostrils. 

You reached toward him slowly. “It's okay, you know who I am,” you kept your voice low and soothing, as if he could understand you and knowing full well he didn't. But to your surprise and relief, the stallion visibly calmed. His head lowered as he approached you, sniffing your hand. You smiled and rubbed his nose before reaching for the reins, tugging him forward. “Let's get you away from here.” 

The way out was more of a struggle than it was going in, perhaps it was because you had trouble balancing while simultaneously guiding Arthur’s horse. You stumbled and stomped, yanking your skirt free of sharp twigs and thorns awkwardly with one hand, while ensuring you didn’t accidentally rip on the bit in the stallion’s mouth. Soon enough you emerged where your mare stood waiting, her blue eyes brightening at the sight of the two of you. She nickered, stepping forward to greet the stallion as soon as he stepped into the open. He reciprocated the gesture, the fear from earlier had all but vanished. 

But then your heart skipped a beat remembering the gunshots, your own anxiety blooming again. Arthur was proficient with a gun, that much you knew, and you hoped it was from his own weapon that discharged the fire. There was that chance it wasn't, and worry roiled in your guts at the mere thought of him laying lifeless on the ground... 

No, stop that right now, you mentally scolded yourself. Arthur would be just fine, he had to be, this was the man that killed a pack of wolves without hesitation and faced a Grizzly without so much as a scratch. You mounted your horse with determination, gripping the reins of the stallion in one hand as you steered them both in the direction of the gunfire. 

You kept moving at a quick trot, soon finding the stallion had a longer stride than your horse. He of course was larger than your compact mare, and any faster gait would guarantee you being left behind as he surged forward. He thankfully seemed to realize this and kept side by side with you, his head high as if just as anxious to find Arthur as much as you. 

The bridge up ahead signaled how close you were to Valentine, although the sight that soon loomed into view was what stopped you in your tracks. 

Carnage. Pure, raw carnage. Bodies littered haphazardly throughout the bridge and on both sides, pools of blood staining the earth. A disheveled wagon was off to the side, indicating whatever animal pulled it was now long gone. A lump in your throat formed and your stomach churned. You’ve only seen a dead body once in your life; a dead grandparent, but in a coffin and appeared as if they were sleeping. Not this trauma... 

You swallowed the bile that rose in your throat as a myriad of thoughts rushed through your head. What happened to these people? Why did they die like this? Who murdered them? And worst of all, was Arthur among them? 

A sound off to the side was enough to rip your attention away. Just beyond the bridge, someone stumbled wildly into the road. A survivor, you hoped, or a killer... 

Whoever it was seemed to have spotted you, as they made a beeline hurriedly across the bridge, skirting around the victims as if they were nothing but rocks in their wake. A spike of fear coursed through you, but the stallion nickered. 

And then your name was shouted through the still air. Relief flooded through you instantly with the recognition, your breath rushing out in a swoosh when you realized you’d been holding it. As Arthur drew closer, you could see he wasn’t unscathed. His hat was off, exposing bloody and bruised streaks across his cheeks. His crimson shirt was stained with mud and what appeared to be a darker red substance, blood. He had a slight limp to his gait, though that didn’t stop him in his haste. 

He stopped just before you, his face full of surprise. 

“What happened?” You demanded, observing him before flicking your eyes back to the battlefield behind him. “Who are these people?” 

“O’Driscolls,” he growled, hands clenching into fists. “They…they ain’t the friendliest of folk.” 

You nodded in understanding. While you thankfully hadn’t had a personal experience of the O’Driscoll gang, you've heard they liked to peruse Valentine and the surrounding areas for unsuspecting victims. You'd once arrived in town to witness a hanging of one of the nefarious members, but you steered away, too squeamish to follow the event through. “Did they kill all these people?” You asked, although you weren't sure if you wanted to hear the answer. 

“No,” Arthur answered. “All them bodies ARE the damn bastards,” he spat on the ground, saliva tinted red with fresh blood. 

You hadn’t expected that answer at all. Your gaze snapped to the carnage again, and the sickly feeling in your stomach returned. It occurred to you now that the lifeless bodies were that of men, their revolvers either in their still hands or resting on the ground next to them, glistening silver and red in the sunlight. It was a bloody battle, but truly, how many of them were victims? How many of them were there in total? At least a dozen, maybe more. Surely they couldn’t all be part of that gang? Taking a shaky breath, you looked to Arthur again. “How...?”  

Arthur didn't answer. He instead approached his horse, reaching to tug the reins from your hand. You let go and watched as he patted the stallion with a smile, as if he weren’t covered head to toe in injuries. He mounted the horse with ease, but you caught the wince as he settled into the saddle. “Thank you for bringin’ him back to me,” he said finally, giving you a quick glance before rubbing the horse’s neck. 

You gave him a weak smile in return, though it vanished when you got a better view of his wounds. The cuts on his face were deep and the skin around them was bruised a dark purple. Streaks of blood meshed with the stubble along his jawline. He looked as if he fought ten people at once. Your heart sank, the concern for him growing. It troubled you to see him in such a state. 

“You should head back home,” he said. “No tellin’ how many more of them are around.” 

You nodded as he began to urge his horse forward, and you couldn’t help but to ask, “Are you going to get looked at?” 

He paused, and then shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine.” 

This didn’t sit right with you at all. No one in their right mind would even say that when there was more blood than skin showing. You worried he was worse than he appeared and wouldn’t realize until it was too late. A pit formed in your stomach at the thought. As he tapped his horse into a walk again, your mouth spoke faster than your mind could comprehend. “Wait.” 

He stopped again, looking back at you curiously. 

You should suggest that he at least have himself looked at by the doctor in Valentine, but the following words set a different intention. “Come back home with me,” you offered. When he opened his mouth to answer, you added, “You're a mess, and you need to be patched up.” 

The curious look turned to bewilderment. “It ain’t that bad,” he said dismissively with a shake of his head. 

“You can’t see yourself,” you pointed out. “But you look pretty rough.” 

He mumbled something under his breath. You weren’t quite sure what he said, but it sounded like, “I’ve had worse.” 

“Arthur,” you said sternly. “You just said you weren’t sure if there were more out here...you’re in no shape if they are, they’d be all over you. So if you please, follow me back, and I will tend to your wounds.” You were neither doctor nor a surgeon, only proficient at handling minor injuries. But it would make you feel better to ensure he wouldn’t die from his wounds later. And if they were worse than you could handle, maybe your intervention would persuade him to seek a professional.  

Arthur studied you, as if trying to find a way to deny you. A long moment passed before he finally sighed and relented. “Alright.” 

You flashed him a genuine and grateful smile this time, your uneasiness settling just a bit. Without another glance toward the bridge, you turned and pushed your mare into a lope, leaving the scene behind. Arthur was close behind. 

It didn't take long for you to reach your home; the travel time being cut in half in the urgency to leave the sight of death, as well as your growing concern over Arthur. After depositing the two horses into the barn, you ushered Arthur inside, setting him down at the table. As you bustled about grabbing clean cloth, a bowl of fresh water, and plucking from the meager medicine store you had, you’d only vaguely realized Frederick was not in the house. 

You didn’t take time to ponder this, as you placed everything on the table and turned to assess Arthur. The man sat before you in a slouched position, arms resting on his thighs, eyes turned toward the floor. He almost looked ashamed. 

“Look at me,” 

He did, slowly straightening to meet your gaze. The wounded side of his face seemed to become more swollen in the short time it took you to get back here. Your heart fell at the mere sight, wondering who was wicked enough to even attempt to mar his face. You dipped the cloth in the water and bent down, carefully pressing it to his bruised skin. He flinched slightly, his eyes narrowing in pain. 

“Sorry,” you apologized, slowly erasing the now dried blood from his skin. As you worked, your gaze slowly shifted from the wounds to meet his. You were faintly surprised that he was staring, but you were so close to him, you figured it was hard not to, especially when working in such a delicate area. This was the closest you'd been since the day he rescued you from the wolves, and you never noticed how beautiful his eyes were. Pools of light blue with hints of jade green, like the depths of the clearest pools of water you'd ever seen. Your heart stuttered slightly, and you shifted quickly back to caring for his marred cheek, slightly embarrassed having stared that long. 

He let out a slow breath, the tension slightly releasing from his body. “You a doctor?” he asked quietly. 

You smiled and shook your head, grateful that he didn't question your prolonged stare. “No, but my mother taught me a thing or two,” you explained. As the remaining blood cleared from his face, you were able to properly assess how deep those wounds are. Thankfully, they looked superficial; no stitches needed. Thank goodness, that would’ve been a terrible spot to work on. 

What would work was a salve. Swapping the cloth for a tin, you popped the lid open and ran your finger through the greasy substance before dabbing it along his skin with just as little pressure as you did while wiping. Arthur offered a slightly sharp intake of breath, but otherwise made no other noise or movement. 

“I know it stings,” you say soothingly. “But it helps.” 

He nodded once with the slightest of movement to not mess up your handiwork. Once the angry exposed flesh had a layer of salve, you stepped back to look for any other wounds. It didn’t take long for you to spot the clean rip of his shirt along his bicep, the frayed edges stained dark with blood. 

There were other stains too, although no other rips or tears in the fabric. You just hoped most of the blood wasn’t his. “You’ll, uh, have to remove your shirt,” you pointed out, slightly sheepishly. “That gash on your arm doesn’t look good.” 

Arthur seemed to hesitate for a split second, then did so without question, unbuttoning the shirt to reveal a union suit beneath. The second set of buttons followed, exposing his torso. A glimpse of his paler skin allowed you to realize how clean he was, and as he shifted to gingerly remove his arm from the sleeves, it seemed as if he'd gotten away with much less than it appeared. 

You scooted the chair closer to his side with the cloth in your hand, your other hand braced against the uninjured part of his arm to keep steady. His skin felt warm beneath your palm, and the muscles were taut as you drew the rag across. As more of the wound was revealed, it was plain that this was deeper than you'd like. 

A sigh escaped your lips, and you stood up to retrieve the suture kit. 

“That don’t sound good,” you heard Arthur comment. 

You rounded to face him, a needle and thread in your hands. To emphasize, you held them up to eye level. “Not quite.” 

Arthur grimaced a little but said nothing. Instead, he reached around to the satchel he’d draped across the back of the chair and dug out a bottle of an amber substance. You couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed when he uncorked it, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a swig. Strong and resilient, you thought, as a flush of heat crowded your cheeks. 

He set the bottle onto the table, and you took your place again, banishing that thought from your mind. Carefully, you threaded the suture material through the needle, your unoccupied hand once again returning to its spot on his arm. Before piercing his skin, you paused, thinking back to the day your mother taught you. How long had it been since you were just a teenager, in the kitchen of your parents’ home? A young stable boy had gotten dragged by a neighbor's energetic stallion and sliced his leg on a broken piece of wood. You watched in awe as your mother made quick work of the nasty gash, closing the skin up expertly. She then passed it on to you with a smaller wound, which even with her guidance, did not look as neat and tidy as hers. 

“You ever do this before?” Arthur’s question snapped you from your thoughts. 

You blinked and took a breath. “Once,” you admitted. “But I remember how.” 

Arthur said nothing, giving you a lingering stare before taking another swig of his drink. The earthy, bitter smell of whiskey hit your nose, and you contemplated taking a drink for yourself to ease the sudden anxiety that welled in your chest. Instead, you sat up straight and delicately pinched the skin between your fingers and made the first pierce. 

He made a small noise at the back of his throat as your slightly trembling fingers made the first knot, though sat as still as a statue as you continued. You were slow, ensuring no mistakes were made. His skin bled slightly from your ministrations, and you were careful to wipe away without disturbing or unraveling your work. 

You took a momentary break halfway through, flexing your fingers for a moment while your other hand simply rested on his arm. Even as Arthur seemed to relax, most likely from the alcohol, you could still feel the hard muscle beneath. Your eyes swept over his arm, noting the defined curves and planes. He was built with the thickness of a tree, a sense of strength and power radiating through his person. It was a result of hard labor, his torso decorated with tan lines and old scars. Your gaze then shifted down slowly to his hands, now resting in his lap. His fingers were dotted with blood, trailing up to the leather of his fingerless gloves. 

The obvious signs of a fight. 

“Arthur?” you spoke his name quietly, wondering if you should be even asking this at all. 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you...kill those men?” you breathed out, though your heart started to race with anticipation. The question had been lingering for a little while. 

He looked at you then, his beautiful eyes searching yours for what seemed like an endless second, the corners of his mouth downturned in a slight frown. Finally, he sighed and looked away, “Yes,” he answered gruffly. 

You knew it. Hell, you had the feeling when you found him back there. You couldn’t exactly count how many of them laid slain in the road. You remember that day with the wolves. A whole pack it seemed, and Arthur took them out effortlessly. Humans were different, but still...one man against many... 

He must’ve taken your silence wrong, because he then said, “It was either me or them. And the world’s better off without them in it.” 

“How?” you asked. “I mean...you took all of them on at once?” you amended when he gave you a look of concern. 

Arthur took a deep breath, taking another swig of his whiskey before looking at you again. “I was ambushed at the bridge. One o’ them snuck up behind me and yanked me off my horse. It weren’t an easy fight, but I managed,” he shrugged as if it were a daily occurrence for him. 

Your stomach twisted. “You’re lucky you’re not dead,” you murmur, turning your attention back to the sutures. 

Arthur didn’t wince when you pierced through his skin again. Instead, he shrugged a second time. “I ain’t that easy to kill,” he answered a-matter-of-factly. 

“You speak from experience?” you countered, peering at him again. 

He hesitated for a second before sighing heavily, “More than I’d like,” he mumbled, his helping of whiskey lasting a beat longer than before. 

You wanted to ask more, your mind sifting through the stories he’s shared with you. The states he’d traveled between, the jobs he’d gone on, the people he’d met. It only made sense that the downsides of those jobs meant...facing potential death. You felt as if you were only scratching the surface of this familiar, yet mysterious man. 

Silence fell. Arthur continued to sit still while you finished the sutures, your thoughts spinning like a tornado. The deeper you went the more the curiosity and a strange sense of admiration welled within you, and while you hated to admit it, there was a small twinge of fear. This was a man that faced dangerous predators and spoke of it so nonchalantly, and now learning he was perfectly capable of taking down a dozen men without any fatal wounds? 

You finished the last suture, and you wiped the last of the excess blood away to admire your handiwork. Fingers traced over the unaffected skin, feeling for any residual issues. Nothing felt taut or uneven. “Anything feel off?” You asked quietly, your fingers lingering, and you realized you'd been tracing the dip of his muscle, where it connected to the swell of his shoulder. So well built... 

You stopped abruptly, hoping he hadn't noticed. 

What you hadn't realized is that he did notice, his eyes first on your hand, then he met your gaze. You froze, heat striking through your cheeks. 

“No,” he answered. “Feels okay.” 

You nodded, promptly standing up to clear the supplies, but to also hide your flushed face. Just as you placed the suture kit back to its home, the opening of the door startled you. 

Whirling around, you were half surprised and half relieved to find Frederick strolling in. The thumping of your heart slowed just a fraction, until you saw your husband’s eyes land on Arthur, who was already half out the chair. Arthur froze immediately. 

Frederick’s gaze snapped to yours, confusion and alarm clear on his face. 

“Frederick!” you exclaimed after the uncomfortably long moment of silence. “Uh...where were you?” 

“l heard those gunshots, and knowing you were out there, I got worried and went to find you,” he explained, his eyes constantly shifting back to Arthur. “Who might this be?” 

You looked to Arthur who met your gaze. The man looked quite uncomfortable and sheepish, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't have. You took a breath and looked back to your husband. “This is Arthur,” you started. “He...well, he got caught up in that fight. I came across him and offered to bring him back here to fix him up.” 

You watched as the two men now stared at one another, Frederick’s scrutinizing gaze studying. Arthur hadn't adjusted his clothes, and his half-bare torso and newly stitched arm was out, solidifying your story. 

“They were O’Driscolls, the ones who caused those gunshots,” you added in the tense air, purposely keeping out the detail about Arthur killing them all. “Arthur was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

Frederick frowned, and his body seemed to relax a touch. “O’Driscolls,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I've heard they're nasty work. You're quite lucky you escaped with just a few wounds, even luckier that my wife came across you.” 

“Yeah,” Arthur mumbled in agreement, adjusting his clothes to cover himself back up. He flinched ever so slightly when the fabric grazed over his angry skin. With his shirt back in place, he began to stand up. “She's quite somethin’ with them stitches.” 

The two men standing side by side caught your full attention, and your gaze flicked between them in curiosity. Frederick was not petite by any means, but Arthur had a few inches on him, and harnessed a thicker build. Broad shoulders and toned arms, clothes that were generous in outlining his strength. Your husband’s clothes, while kept neat and tidy, sagged in a few places. He’d also put on a few pounds since moving out here, indicated by the slight strain in the buttons of his shirt. Complete opposites. 

“Say, you look quite familiar,” Frederick said thoughtfully, peering at Arthur. 

You could have sworn you saw Arthur tense, but you said, “He’s the one who fixed our roof.” 

“Ah!” Frederick’s face lit up with a smile. “Well, no complaints here. You did some fine work!” He clapped his hand on Arthur’s better shoulder. “Why don't you stay for dinner? My wife’s cooking is simply divine!” 

You hadn't expected Frederick to invite what was, to him, a complete stranger. Regardless, his offer was a pleasant surprise. You hid a smile, knowing Arthur was very aware of your cooking skills. When you glanced over, you observed a slight frown on Arthur‘s lips. 

“I wouldn't wanna intrude any more than I have been,” Arthur awkwardly explained. 

“You're not,” you said quickly, and when Arthur turned to look at you, you added, “You went through a lot today, at least rest up for a bit before heading back out.” 

Arthur stared at you for a moment, and then offered a half shrug. “Sure.” 

You set to work after that, immediately diving into dinner prep while Frederick and Arthur spoke to another at the table. Your husband was chattier and more enthusiastic, countering Arthur’s quiet responses. He wasn't uncomfortable, you could tell, but it was evident the previous fight took much more out of him than he was letting on. As you bustled around the kitchen, Arthur’s tired frame would linger in the corner of your eye. He didn't seem to be uncomfortable, which you were thankful for. 

A pot of stew was simmering on the stove, the aroma slowly filling the air of your home. You stirred, occasionally adding a pinch of the last of your herb stash, realizing you'd completely forgotten about your shopping trip to Valentine in favor of coming to Arthur’s aid. How ironic was it that you came to his rescue like he did that day when you met? You even brought his horse back to him. The roles had been reversed, you realized, and you giggled quietly to yourself. Although you hoped it wouldn’t become a common occurrence between the two of you. 

A few more moments passed before you retrieved three bowls from the cabinet, ladling generous portions in each. You carried them carefully to the table and set them down before sitting at your usual spot. Arthur went to move, obviously thinking he was in the wrong spot, but Frederick grabbed the chair you were in earlier to sit on one end. It left Arthur sitting across from you just like every other visit, even though it was Frederick’s normal spot. 

“Eat up, now! You won't find anything better for a hundred miles!” Frederick encouraged as he began to help himself. 

Arthur briefly met your gaze, a small smile touching his lips as he spooned in a mouthful. It was the same stew you'd served him the first time he visited your home, and you hoped he recognized that. 

As he swallowed, Arthur sat up straight with a grin on his face. “You're right, this ain't half bad!” He exclaimed. 

His enthusiasm made you smile, and it was obvious he was putting on a show to appease you in front of your otherwise unknowing husband. Frederick then added, “As I said, you will find nothing else like it!” 

The remainder of the meal was quiet after that, save for the spoons scraping the tin bowls. Arthur was the slowest to finish his meal, which you couldn't help noticing. Normally he would scarf it down in a heartbeat, but his eyes were heavily lidded, and often times he’d pause to yawn. You could hardly blame him after today. 

He sat back from his now empty bowl, stifling another yawn. “Thank you,” he groaned, stretching and rolling his bad shoulder with a slight wince. “That hit the spot.” 

You inclined your head in response, your eyes flicking to the window next. It had significantly darkened since you'd arrived back home, and you wondered exactly how much time had passed since. Something twinged in the back of your mind, almost like a silent warning. You weren't sure exactly why, but the thought of Arthur venturing out there so fresh after his injuries didn't sit right with you, even though you were well aware he had every capability to take care of himself. 

“Arthur, why don't you spend the night?” You offered. “Rest a bit more.” 

Arthur stared at you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “I—” 

“We do have a guest bedroom,” Frederick interrupted, gesturing to the closed door next to your bedroom. “You ought to, I can see you're in need of a good rest.” 

Arthur was shaking his head. “It ain't necessary.” 

“I insist,” you said gently. “Please, you're practically dead on your feet.” 

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but whatever argument he had was interrupted with a deep yawn. He rubbed his palm along his face and sighed heavily. You knew he couldn't deny that, from the look of plain exhaustion and reluctance to debate even further. He didn't even have to say anything, just nodded. 

You smiled inwardly in relief, and then bustled toward the guest room. Upon opening the door, you were greeted with a slightly musty smell from the disuse, but not overpowering enough for the need to open the windows. You stepped in further and reached for the silhouette of the oil lamp on the nearby nightstand. A few seconds passed before the darkened room was bathed in amber light. The wash basin was full of water and had a clean rag next to it. The bed was neatly made with sheets that were hardly used. As you were finishing your brief survey to ensure everything was in order, you felt a presence hover in the doorway. 

You turned to see Arthur standing there, waiting patiently as he leaned slightly on the frame. His entire body sagged despite what you guessed to be his best efforts at hiding it. Your heart lurched at the thought of him denying your offer instead, heading out in the darkness like this. 

“The bed’s ready for you,” you gestured. “And the basin...” you nodded toward the porcelain piece. “Please make yourself comfortable.” 

Arthur nodded again, silently. He stepped in further, closing the already small distance between the two of you. He stopped, staring down at you with an expression of mild concern. “Y’ really don't have to do this,” he muttered. “You've already done so much.” 

You peered up at him, staring into those gorgeous, steady eyes. They were almost hypnotizing. “I don't have to, I want to,” you said with a warm smile. “I don't mind.” 

Arthur let out a small, humorless chuckle. “You're too sweet for your own good.” 

Sweet. You were thankful for the dim light, because your face flushed. You broke his gaze, eyes drifting to the bed again. “Sometimes people forget to be kind,” you explained. “It never hurts to remind the world.” 

He hummed shortly in response, and your eyes locked to him again. His face displayed thoughtfulness. 

You wondered what he was thinking, but your curiosity was staunched by the greater need for his recovery. Instead, you took a breath and said, “Goodnight, Arthur. Frederick and I will be just next door if you need anything.” 

As you turned, you caught his nod in your peripheral. You headed out of the room and closed the door behind you, although you could feel his lingering stare just before the knob clicked into place. 

—- 

Arthur awoke as something shifted around him, a gentle movement that didn’t rouse him until there was a sudden weight upon him. His eyes fluttered open, facing the room swathed in a dim glow of the oil lamp on the nightstand. Something on his thighs felt heavy, and his gaze fell upon a pair of legs straddling his. Panic struck him as his eyes blinked rapidly in the desperate attempt to see who was trapping him. 

His vision adjusted, and your name slid from his mouth in surprise. “What’re you doin’?” He gasped; voice still rough with sleep. His brain seemed sluggish as he scrambled to comprehend what was going on. 

You smiled down at him, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “You seemed kind of lonely, Arthur. I thought I might give you some company,” you explained softly. 

He opened his mouth to reply, confusion only growing. Instead, he seemed to focus on what you were wearing. The thin white material of your nightgown was bunched around your waist, exposing your thighs. Your figure was silhouetted in the light, accentuating your shape. 

You knew he ought to look away, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

You might have taken his silence for acceptance, because you leaned down until your face was only inches from his with a whisper of his name on your lips, a hand rested on his shoulder slowly descended to his chest, where his still hammering heart thudded against your soft palm. Your mouth hovered over his neck, dangerously close to his pulse point. The sweet scent of perfume surrounded him like a silk scarf. He inhaled quietly, breathing in the delicious aroma— 

His hands at his sides balled into fists. What were you doing? What was he doing?! You are a married woman, and him? How was he allowing this? His mind screamed at him to stop, to push you off, to rush out of that house and never darken your doorstep again. 

But he couldn’t find it in himself. “Wh-what about your husband?” He managed to say, hoping his last saving grace would be for you to realize your infidelity. 

Your body straightened up, and your smile turned impish. “What about him?” You asked in an innocent voice, your finger tracing the opening of his union suit. Even with just a few inches of exposed skin, your touch felt like fire, just as much as it had before when stitching him up. 

Something pooled deep in his belly. An old, yet familiar rush of excitement and arousal. He gritted his teeth, guilt seeping into his mind. 

“Don’t think he’d appreciate this,” Arthur pointed out, his eyes immediately falling to your hand. Why couldn’t he just reach up and grab your wrist? 

You giggled softly, your hand dragging along his abdomen. “What he doesn’t know,” you began, stopping where the blankets covered him, just above his navel, to peel them away. Arthur tensed, realizing now there wasn’t much else between the two of you. Your palm continued its journey down his body until resting on his now obvious, traitorous, erection. “Won’t hurt him.” 

The weight of your hand against him, even when only blocked by the fabric of his union suit, felt wonderful. He couldn’t help the groan that rumbled from his throat, his thoughts melting away. 

It didn’t stop there. Your other hand began to unbutton the line down his suit, slowly exposing more and more before his length sprung free from the constriction, upright and ready. His body pulsed with want, the burning need to feel your skin against his. 

You granted his unspoken wish, wrapping your fingers at the base. You pumped once, experimentally, before picking up a smooth rhythm. Another moan bubbled from his mouth, quiet, desperate. Your touch felt like pure heaven, soft and warm and just right. 

“Fuck,” he sighed out, tilting his head back. Any lingering resistance faded with his resolve. 

“I’ve wanted you, Arthur…” you murmured breathlessly, your hand still working him from root to tip. “I know you want me too.” 

His breath came in a shudder. “I…” he trailed off, unable to muster up even a denial. His better senses told him to refuse, to stop you, to leave. But how could he with you here, exploring him so freely, so intimately? 

His thought became clouded with the slow build of his pleasure. A carnal urge awakened within him, a desire to claim you in a way he hadn’t done with anyone in so long. Another groan escaped, low and quiet. His hand reached for you, resting on the warm skin of your thigh. It took every inch of restraint to not flip you over and bury himself within you at that second. 

“I told you,” you cooed, the smile remaining on your face. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.” 

Any following words failed to leave his tongue. All he could think about was your soft touch, your warm body, how good it felt to be… 

His eyes snapped open. What faced him was the same room, although your absence was more than obvious. The oil lamp was off, and the room was almost pitch black, save from the beginning rays of dawn turning the sky a cobalt tinge before the sunrise. 

It was a dream. A silly, stupid dream, he thought to himself. Though the ghost of your body on his seemed to linger, too tangible for it to be just a figment of his imagination. The uncomfortable strain in his pants brought him further into reality, as he shifted and winced from the acute onset of pain that reminded him why he was here in the first place. 

His entire body ached, his muscles stiff. He groaned and slowly sat up, trying his best to ignore his hard length and the simultaneous pain plaguing his limbs. His head was swimming, both from the recent dream and the memories of yesterday flooding in. It'd been such a busy day, Arthur had been hunting when those damned O’Driscolls ambushed him at the bridge west of Valentine. He’d fought multiple men before, but not without a toll on himself. The pain was familiar, the scars baring more stories than any normal man could holster. Health cures usually took the edge off, along with a bottle of whiskey and a good night’s rest. 

He wouldn't have even given his injuries a second thought if you hadn't shown up. 

He rubbed his sore face with his hand, groaning deeply again. Shame welled in his chest for even having that dream, the way it felt so real, the way his body responded to you... 

Arthur had to get out of there. 

He jumped up at an instant, ignoring the protests in his body as he grabbed his hat and gun belt which were resting on the bedposts. He adjusted himself, although he doubted anyone would be awake at this hour to even notice. The floorboards creaked and the hinges moaned as he moved to open the door, slowly pulling it open to face the kitchen. 

To his surprise, a soft glow painted the room, just barely illuminating the furniture. It emanated from the fireplace, he realized, and saw a figure sitting in front of it. He blinked as his vision adjusted, and his heart skipped a beat. It was you. 

Your figure bathed in the glow of the dying fire, swathed in a nightgown. Upon his entry, you turned to look at him. 

Arthur froze under your gaze, suddenly feeling guilty. The memory of the dream still too fresh, he looked away. “Uh, I’m headin’ out,” he announced quietly. 

“Oh, alright,” 

Your voice caught his attention. It sounded thick and raspy. He looked at you again, this time noticing the glazed appearance in your eyes. Your cheeks shone wet. You’d been crying. His stomach churned at the sight, although he couldn’t exactly place why. “You okay?” he asked against his better judgment. 

You took a deep, shuddering sigh, looking down at your lap. In your hands was a small piece of paper. “No, not really,” you mumbled with a sniff. 

Arthur frowned. He wanted to inquire more, but his other thoughts urged him to just leave. However, he stayed rooted in the spot. “I’m...sorry to hear that,” he awkwardly replied, unsure what else to even say. 

You wiped your palm across your face, a pained smile crossing your lips. “It’s my husband. He left for another business venture.” 

Of course, that was usually the story. It was so often that Arthur sometimes forgot you were even married. Regardless, you seemed to be so cheery even without Frederick’s presence. Why was now any different? 

“You’d think I’d be used to this by now,” you continued. “But it doesn’t get any easier. I just...miss him,” your voice broke slightly. “Seems like he spends more time out there than he does with me.” 

A swell of sympathy gathered in his chest, along with annoyance. Your husband left you alone too frequently, without protection, and the run-in with the O’Driscolls solidified your potential danger. If you’d arrived just a few minutes earlier at the bridge yesterday, then you would have been unknowingly caught in a massacre that you wouldn’t have survived. Hell, it was a miracle you’d been out here this long and only had that one encounter with the wolves, as far as he knew. How long would that dumb luck last? 

A lump formed in the back of Arthur’s throat. He swallowed it silently, pondering where this spike of anxiety came from. He cared about you, he realized, a little too much. “How long ‘til he’s back?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you answered sadly. “After you went to bed, a colleague of his stopped by. They were speaking amongst themselves, I didn’t really listen. He told me not to worry about it but then I woke up to this...” you held up the piece of paper. 

Arthur reached for it and plucked it from your fingers, leaning in to read in the fire light. 

My dearest, 

I deeply apologize for having to inform you like this. I will be traveling to New York this morning for an opportunity that I could not refuse. If all goes well, this may be the biggest financial success I’ve achieved since first arriving here. We will be one step closer to the life we are destined to live. 

I’m not sure how long this will take, but I promise to write frequently with updates if this lasts longer than a week. 

With all my love, 

Frederick 

A pit of frustration grew in his stomach. The persuasion of money was an all too familiar tale he'd acquainted himself with many times, often with another price to pay. That being said, Arthur was careful when it came to plotting heists, whether it was by himself or with others. 

You and Frederick were far from the outlaw life, but leaving you here on the promise of money for the unforeseen future, in the wake of a large O’Driscoll attack so close to your home, was beyond reckless. 

A curse bubbled in the back of his throat, but he kept it down. As much as he’d like to curse the bastard out, he knew it’d make you more upset. Instead, he said, “At least he let you know where he was goin’, but I know it ain't easy for you right now.” 

You nodded slightly in agreement. “I'm sorry you found me like this,” you laughed humorlessly, wiping your face again. Your other hand settled on your neck, which he realized held a ruby necklace, your fingers toying with the pendant that seemed to almost harness its own fire within the facets. He hadn’t noticed it before. 

Was that the kind of man Frederick was? Adorn you with gifts in the wake of his absence? Arthur bit back a sigh, the sympathy only growing beneath his ribs. “No need,” he said quietly. “I get it.” 

You met his gaze again, the silence other than the faint crackle of the fire encompassing the room. It held for a beat too long, and you stood up and closed the distance, wrapping your arms around his torso in a tight embrace. Arthur tensed from the unexpected contact and readied the automatic response to back away. 

But...he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He allowed strangers to hug him for reasons beyond his understanding, and he could barely reciprocate when they were too lost in their own emotions. This however, was different. The tension eased from his body, but keeping himself neutral he didn’t return the hug, instead raised his hand and placed it on your upper back. 

The warmth of your body seeped to his. Your scent wafted to him, still smelling like the floral perfume he detected earlier when you were tending to your wounds. A flood of memories suddenly came rushing back, from those quiet moments in the same room, to the damning dream he had. 

Suddenly, you stepped back, eyes snapping to the ground as you tucked your hair behind your ear sheepishly. “I’m sorry, how silly of me,” you spoke with a flustered tone.  

Arthur couldn’t find a response, finding himself empty when devoid of your touch. He breathed out, fingers flexing at his sides. “It ain’t silly,” he murmured finally. 

You offered a watery smile to him, the sadness etched deep in your face. “I appreciate it, but I’ve held you up long enough,” you admitted. “Don’t linger on account of me.” 

He’d almost forgotten that he was in a hurry to leave, a hurry to get nowhere other than to avoid his own embarrassment. In the past five minutes, the energy shifted so drastically it was almost surreal. That rush to leave stretched further and further away, and the urge to stay for your comfort was beginning to overwhelm him. 

But he knew he couldn’t. What else could he do than to just sit and watch you cry? He had no advice to offer, no other words of encouragement. It wasn’t his responsibility. 

Arthur finally nodded. “’M sorry,” he simply said, reaching out once again to place his hand on your shoulder. Another sentence hung heavy in the back of his throat, but he kept it to himself. You deserve better than him. 

Your face turned to glance at his hand, and then back to him, a flicker reflecting in your eyes. No more words were exchanged before his hand slid away, and he turned to leave. 

Maybe he should stake the immediate area out for the next day or two, just in case. 

[melsie-sims]

Elise is surprised to find out there are horses waiting to be rescued just next door to the coffee shop.

She doesn't even need to convince her wife to get one — the other woman is already 100% on board.

They decide to adopt a beautiful mare that they rename Jester.

Her traits aren't ideal, but Elise and Jamie are willing to put in the time and effort to help her through her issues. One day she will become the champion horse she's meant to be.

"Do you wanna meet your other mom?" Elise asks Jester in a soft, gentle voice so as to not startle the frightful mare.

[mrbottomhat69]

Doll Collection: updated

Box 1: Monster High and Fright Mares; Front to back, left to right: Caprice Whimcanter, Fawntine Fallowheart, Frets Quartzmane, Penepole Steamtail, Skyra Bouncegait, Olympia Wingfield, Pyxis Prepstockings, Aery Evenfall, Kala Mer'ri, C. A. Cupid, Bay Tidechaser, Merry Trotabout, Flara Blaze, Draculaura (Ghouls Rule version), Peri and Pearl Serpentine, Gooliope Jellington

Box 1.5: All 5 original Bratzillas (Yasmina, Cloetta, Meygana, Sashabella, and Jade) with their capes off.

Box 2 and 2.5: Mystixx dolls. Talin (pink), Azra (blue), Siva (purple), and Kalani (green). Photo 4 shows the vampire and original zombie girls in their human wigs/outfits (left to right, both rows: Kalani, Azra, Siva, Talin)

Box 3: miscellaneous dolls; American Girl Samantha (circa 2005), Alice doll (circa 1975), original Barbie Mariposa doll

Box 4: Ever After High and Liv dolls; (as coherently left-to-right as possible) Hayden as the White Rabbit, Bunny Blanc, Lizzie Hearts, Sophie as Alice, Alexis as the Queen of Hearts, Alistair Wonderland, Katie as the Mad Hatter, Daniela as the White Queen, and Kitty Cheshire (not featured: Madeline Hatter, Way Too Wonderland version. Currently getting an intense full-head soak to fix glue seepage.)

Box 5: Lalaloopsy dolls; (from left to right) Button-tails cat (dubbed Madeleine), Confetti Carnivale, Peanut Big Top, Suzette La Sweet (no pet), Button-tails mouse (dubbed Muffin)

Box 6: Bratz Masquerade dolls; (from left to right) Odelia the Egyptian queen, Lian the fairy, Finora the witch, Chloe the angel, Kirana the vampire, Brielle the tea party princess

Box 7: Kawaii Crush collection

[vampiregirl-in-a-barbieworld]

Some scrapped G1 concepts from Garrett Sander's panel at Powercon2023!

Apparently for the Fright-Mares 6 inch doll line they were considering toying with the idea of bug monsters but it was ultimately scrapped.

The line up with Deuce, Draculaura, and Frankie looks like additions to Home Ick that didn't make it into the line.

Casta Fierce and Catty Noir are pictured here as concepts for the Fierce Rockers dolls but Casta was cut from the line. Apparently Catty and Casta were originally going to be a duo going by Shattered Spells!

Deuce with a snakehawk that looks like his first original concept art one.

And I'm not sure what Frankie this is by the lockers but I think she is from the scrapped casketball game sports line up.

● credits: m0nstersintheattic shared these pictures on their Instagram page ●

● Garrett Sanders is the source/owner of the concept pics shared in the panel ●

[freaky-flawless]

Every so often, I get reminded of the existence of the Fright-Mares and am overcome by how strange they are. Especially considering the existence of Avea Trotter.