#going along with an outlaw who taking him to an entirely new town with nothing but the (work) clothes on his back and his wallet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelz-dust · 3 years ago

Note

Bro cowboy!jason with some smut would be beautiful 😭

yeehaw baby - minors avert y'all eyes 🤠

(as i was writing this i realized i was writing a female reader but if you'd like a male or gender neutral reader instead let me know and i'll come with up an whole new scenario!!)

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

what's a sheriff without his hat? (jason todd x female reader)

warnings: nsfw 18+ (no condom, pulling out - wrap it up y'all). angst if you squint.

...

"sheriff!"

you kicked in the doors to the saloon, gathering the attention of some of the patrons nearby. the place smelled of smoke and sweat, which was why you tried your best to avoid the spot altogether. however, it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so with sheriff todd making it his new hangout spot. the bastard could've picked a place with a bit more circulation as far as you were concerned.

"sheriff!" you yelled again, holding your dress up as your steps increased in speed. you saw the man in his booth with deputy harper and the rest of their little posse. they felt more like thugs to you.

"he's asleep," the woman, artemis, said to you as she opened her bottle of booze on the side of the table, subsequently chipping off some of the wood. you weren't sure if it was due to the poor structural integrity or her strength. probably both.

"i don't give a damn if he's neck deep in his grave," you spat, walking up to him. his seat was leaned back, which mean he was definitely awake. no one could balance their own weight like that and be unconscious. his hat was covering his face, some smoke coming out of the sides. asleep my ass.

you ripped the hat off of his face, bellows of cigarette smoke barreling out. his eyes shot open, the white slightly red from how he was abusing them just now. how he was still breathing, you didn't know. maybe the rumors about him coming back to life and being immortal were true.

"can i help you?" he glared, making an attempt to snatch his hat back from you. you quickly pulled back, making his seat lunge forward and his chest hit the table. you heard the deputy snort at the scene. "as my companion just told you, i'm asleep."

your glared right back at him, holding his hat behind your back. "you promised to keep those hooligans away from my place of business, todd."

"did i?" he asked you, giving you a fake grin. "well, i'm sorry little lady. it musta slipped my mind."

"don't get smart with me!" you snapped at him, the entire saloon getting quiet now. everyone was suddenly very interested in your little spat. "you're supposed to be protecting us and all you do is sit on your ass. i'm surprised you ain't collecting dust already."

"someone should sew that damn mouth of yours shut. maybe then we'd get some peace and quiet around here," he said back, getting a few chuckles from his little fan club. "give me my hat back."

you stared at him as your frustrations bubbled inside of you. that's all he had to say? his lack of concern for your issue just let you know what kind of man you already knew he was. he wanted his hat back? fat chance. you silently grinned at him before turning around and starting to walk out of the saloon. screw him and his stupid hat.

"hey!" he shouted as you continued walking off. you could feel the vibrations of his movement in the floorboards. he was coming after you. "get back here!"

you sped up, running out of the saloon and back towards the bathhouse. maybe if you got him off his sorry ass he'd be more willing to hear you out. that is, if the theft of his precious little hat didn't irritate him too much. if you weren't so preoccupied with outrunning him, you'd love to see the look on his face. you made it up the few step to the front door, where he quickly caught up with you. you pressed your back against it, securing the hat in between.

the sheriff glowered down at you, his hand pressed against the doorframe above you. you stared into each other's eyes, the sounds of your panting breath sinking up with one another. as much as he agitated you to no end, he was a very handsome man. it was the only thing that had kept you from shooting him in that pretty face.

"you've had your fun," he told you with a low tone, holding his other hand out. "now give it back."

you were surprised he hadn't just tossed you around and took it for himself. back when jas- the sheriff... first came to town, he seemed like a respectable man. you didn't cross paths very often, but every encounter with him was pleasant and memorable. he was kind, sometimes even a little flirty with you. he was a little rough around the edges. all those cowboys seemed to share that trait. but it was worse when when he returned after disappearing for a long time. you barely recognized him. it seemed he had been hardened by... whatever it was he experienced while he was gone. you didn't ask, nor did you care. he and his gaggle of dirty thugs had taken control of the town and it's been this way ever since.

"you don't deserve it," you decided to say, relishing in the instant gratification that came from seeing his expression change so quickly. oh, he was angry and you loved it. "you're no sheriff. you're an outlaw. you don't care about anybody but yourself."

you felt the hot air blow out of his nose and you had to fight back the smirk that was playing at your lips. you looked down and saw his hand moving towards your waist. the hell was he trying to do? before you could move or protest, you had fallen backwards into the bathhouse, right onto the freshly cleaned floor. he looked down at you from where he stood with a smile, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. you scrambled away from him, his hat still firmly in your grip. you got yourself off the floor, ready for whatever he was going to try.

instead of making his way towards you like you assumed he would, he looked around the place, taking in his surroundings. he eventually started walking in your direction. it was menacing watching him slowly approach you with an expressionless face. he stopped at the counter, looking down at the little bell. pressing his finger on it, it rung. he waited a few seconds before ringing it a few more times, looking over at you expectantly. your gaze narrowed as you made your way behind the counter.

"yes?" you asked with gritted teeth.

"i'd like to have a bath, please."

"... i'm sorry, sir, but we've had to close early today on the account of having no sheriff to protect my girls from harassment," you explained with a sickly sweet smile. "if we had a sheriff, which we don't, then maybe my girls would feel comfortable continuing to work. but since we don't, there's nothing i can do to help you. sorry for the inconvenience."

you saw a flicker of what appeared to be remorse on his face. he looked down at the counter, his finger tracing the grooves. "you're here, aren't you?"

"you must be out of your natural mind."

"why? because i'm requesting that the bathhouse worker give me a bath?" he asked with a snarky tone.

"that you're requesting anything of me after disregarding my concerns earlier."

he pulled some money out of his pocket, slamming it on the counter. "let's discuss it over a bath."

...

this was the last thing you wanted to be doing. you stared at the back of his head as he laid in the tub of warm water. you grabbed the rag from the bucket of soapy water, ringing it out and bringing it to his chest. as much as you wanted to be rough with him, your desire to not touch him at all prompted you to just be gentle instead. you heard him let out a content sigh as you scrubbed him down.

"you wanted to talk to me, didn't you? so talk," he said, resting his chin in his hand while you worked.

"i already told you what the problem was," you reminded him, lightly pressing against his back to get him to sit up. you scrubbed his back, watching as the dirt and grime disappeared, revealing his actual skin color.

"don't present a problem without a solution. what do you want me to do?"

"kill them."

he let out a hearty laugh at your suggestion, laying back down once you finished with his back. your fingers went to his hair as you poured some water of it, massaging it into his scalp. you could've sworn you felt him leaning into your touch. "isn't killing your clientele bad for business?"

"their existence is bad for business," you told him matter of factly, leaning down to wash his stomach. "i want them gone."

"now darling," he chuckled softly, turning his head towards you. his scruff brushed against your skin, making you shiver. "you know i can't do that. try again."

you could feel your face heating up, so you pulled away, washing his arms now. you dragged the rag along his muscles, revealing all kinds of scars as you cleaned him. "give them a stern talking to."

"about what?"

"respecting my girls."

"or else what?"

"use your imagination."

he hummed with a nod as you finished up with his upper body. "i can do that."

you threw the wet rag at his face, making him flinch. he dragged down his face, plopping into the bath water. "i'm not washing you below the belt. you can see yourself out."

...

after dramatically stomping your way up to your bedroom, you changed out of your clothes and into your nightgown. being around the sheriff was exhausting and you weren't going to waste anymore time on him. your only hope was that he'd stay true to his word. as you were getting ready to retire for the night, you heard a knock at your door.

"i want my damn hat back, y/n. i'll kick the door down if i have to," you heard him say through the door. you went and grabbed it off of your dresser, putting it on your head and looking at yourself in the mirror.

"i think i'll keep it for myself, actually."

"you have five seconds to open this door."

out of frustration, he start twisting the knob. unbeknownst to him, it was never locked to begin with. he opened the door, surprise on his face as he let himself in. he looked over at you, the same expression on his face, but for a different reason now.

"take it off."

"i actually quite like it, so i don't think i will."

he must have been fed up with you at this point, because he started approaching you with purpose in his step. you stepped back some, slipping on the length of your gown and falling back on the bed. the hat had fallen off of your head, onto the floor. instead of going around to pick it up, he found himself on top of you. the two of you held eye contact, but it was different from earlier.

"why do you do these things to me?" he asked you softly. "i'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

"i don't like you."

"you used to like me."

that may have been true once upon a time, but it wasn't the case now. the person you used to like didn't exist anymore. he was replaced with a hollow shell of a man and you wanted nothing to do with him.

his thumb made its way to the corner of your mouth and your heart started racing. "i still like you," he said with a small frown, his fingers tracing your jaw and moving down your neck. "i think deep down you still like me."

"no," you responded without missing a beat. his hand was on your chest, feeling the shockwaves of your pulse underneath. "i don't."

"i think you do."

you wanted to badly to smack him in his face but his response was different than you expected. the snark and smugness you were expecting was replaced with a tenderness you were unfamiliar with. or, more accurately, had forgotten he was capable of conveying. he sounded honest. genuine. like he really believed what he was saying. or wanted to, at least.

that's what caused you to let your guard down and let him in. his nose rubbed against yours before he leaned down, giving you a kiss. his large hand cupped your cheek while his other one lifted you off of your back and into his lap. you parted from him and he looked at you with a little smile. "see?"

"that doesn't count," you objected, despite not moving out of your new position. you actually found yourself getting comfortable, placing your legs on both sides of his lap. you could feel his erection growing beneath you.

"sure it does," he insisted, grabbing his hat and putting it back on your head. he laid back on the bed, starting to slowly undo his belt. you didn't dare look down at what he was doing, too stubborn to give him the full satisfaction, but you didn't stop him either. you felt your own arousal becoming stronger. it was hard to ignore when you didn't have any underwear on to begin with.

you soon felt his tip rubbing against your slickness and you sucked in a gasp, getting his attention. he stopped moving, looking up at you for approval to continue. still feeling stubborn, you just looked away and felt him slip inside of you. his hands moved up your thighs and to your hips, repositioning the skirt of your gown. it allowed the two of you to reserve a bit of modesty in your compromising state.

the first movements were shallow and slow, as you were both trying to adjust. it didn't take long for you both to find a rhythm. soft pants and moans came from you as you rode him, his hips thrusting upwards so you weren't doing all the work. you had been resisting from touching him, but as he bounced you on his lap, his hand went to yours. his fingers grazed yours, sloppily laced together as he brought it towards his mouth. he planted a kiss on your palm, placing it on his heart.

shifting your weight, you pressed your hand firmly against his chest and he picked up the pace, his hips snapping up into you. your arm was starting to grow tired and he picked up on it. he sat up, pulling you into him. his face rested in the crook of your neck, his breath fanning against it while his hands slid up your back, one at the top of your spine and the other at your ribs. you continued rocking against him while his mouth made quick work of your neck, sucking at the junction between it and your shoulder.

your moans became embarrassingly loud. you were just glad no one else was around to hear them. jason kissed up the base of your neck until he met your lips, swallowing up all of your sounds. you felt his hat slipping off of your head and you both reached back to catch it, his hand on top of yours. the two of you smiled into the kiss as he readjusted it for you.

feeling your release coming up, you slipped your fingers down to your clit, teasing it to help push yourself over the edge. jason moaned against your lips as he pulled out of you, making a mess on your nightgown. you were too blinded by your own pleasure to yell at him as you continued rubbing yourself. you felt his fingers probing at your entrance, thrusting in and out until you came all over them.

"sorry about the stain," he breathed out, pulling the skirt up in an effort to keep it from touching you. his other hand worked to untie the bow in the back, making it easier for you to get it off. he grabbed his hat from off your head and used it to cover his face while you slipped out of the gown. you set it aside, pulling your blankets up to cover yourself. "are you decent?"

"yes," you answered as he lowered it, giving you a grin before putting it back on your head. your eyes peered upwards at the brim. "i thought you wanted it back."

"i'll come get it later. there are a few men i need to give a stern talking to first," he said, fixing his pants and getting up. "you'll be here when i get back, won't you?"

you raised your brow at him, chuckling. "it's not like i have somewhere else to be."

"i'll be back soon," he winked before walking over to the door. "oh, and darling?"

"...yes?"

"leave that on for me, alright?"

#jason todd x reader #askbox

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revolversandlace · 2 years ago

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Blemished Silk | Chapter Five - Polite Society, Valentine Style

Arthur Morgan x f!OC

Mature Rating - 2.6k Words

Chapter Tags: Part Novelisation, Slow Burn

Summary: Arthur, the girls and Uncle take a trip into Valentine

Horseshoe Overlook, February 1899

Their new campsite was a damn sight better than the last. The snow had melted, as the fresh, sweet spring scent had made itself known.

Arthur had woken up later than he imagined himself to. The sun was only just rising softly across the ridges of New Hanover, illuminating the Niobrara river below them, and he wanted to drum up some business and fast.

As he drank the last of his burnt coffee, he rose from his camper bed, marching over to the wagon. It was hardly a surprise to find Uncle there, asleep and no doubt still drunk from the night before. The elderly annoyance was known for his bullshit, and Arthur wondered what stories the old fool would spin as soon as he awoke. Not that it was likely to be any time soon.

With one swift kick through the marigolds, Arthur landed his boot into the man’s outstretched thigh.

A short, quick yelp erupted from the geriatric as Arthur laughed to himself.

‘Careful not to work yourself to death there, Uncle.’ He commented, tipping his hat.

‘I was thinking,’ the old man protested, and he stood as well as he could. Arthur had seen lambs rise right after being born quicker than whatever tomfoolery Uncle was doing.

‘Mm,’ Arthur sneered, gesturing at the man, ‘does it pay well?’

Arthur was never totally sure whether he despised the man, was merely irritated by him, or found him amusing. He provided entertainment, but even that was a stretch. He was sure Dutch felt some odd sense of tolerance towards him that kept him around. For the life of him, Arthur couldn’t figure out why.

‘Eventually,’ the man grumbled, rubbing the side of his head.

Arthur patted his shoulder, not too affectionately either, as he guided him away from the wagon.

‘So,’ Arthur began, his thumb hooked into his leather belt, ‘while the rest of us were busy, stealing, killing, lying… fighting to try to survive…’ he walked the man, not entirely sure whether he was to slap some sense into Uncle but he wanted to prove a point either way. ‘You get to think all day.’

He could see the squirm in the older man’s eyes and felt his shoulders tense underneath his hand. Good.

‘It’s a strange world we live in, Arthur Morgan.’ He chimed, with his absurdly southern Ohio accent.

Arthur had enough of antagonising the man, who seemed to play along far too damn well to his antics. Besides, the outlaw was in a chipper mood for a change. He had the taste for dollar bills on his tongue and knew that ruffling the old goat wasn’t gonna line his pockets.

‘Do you want to head into town, see if we can find anything out?’

‘Sure, I got some errands to run,’ the old man nodded, his unkempt beard catching in the light breeze.

‘Great, go check the horses are ready.’ Arthur pointed over to the hitching post.

Uncle, in his most predictable fashion, stomped and huffed, shook his head, and made all sorts of incoherent refusals. Not that Arthur gave a damn as he dug into his pockets for his pack of smokes.

Uncle skulked off to do something of worth with his time, Arthur lit his cigarette, breathing in the smoke along with the floral morning air.

‘If you’re gonna take an old man into town,’ one girl called. From underneath the brim of his hat, he looked up and he saw Karen standing there, breasts almost falling out of her corset and hands firmly on her hips. Not like he expected anything else from her. ‘Could you take us too?’

She made a meagre attempt to cover herself up with a long jacket that looked a lot like Bills, as Arthur narrowed his eyes at her in the sun.

‘Why? What you got planned?’ He was suspicious but figured no harm in it after all. He propped his foot onto the rock beside him, resting his elbows on his knee as he took another drag.

‘Nothing. We’ll find something for y’all to do, we always do.’ She retorted, swaddling over to him.

She weren’t wrong. The girls knew their parts and always played them well. They were valuable assets to the gang and could go places that none of the men could.

Mary-Beth, a sweet looking young thing with chestnut curls hand in hand with Tilly, a black girl and the largest brown eyes Arthur had ever seen, sauntered over. They trailed behind Karen, who, aside from the formidable Ms Grimshaw, took herself to be the ringleader of their little group.

‘We’re bored out of our minds,’ Mary-Beth pleaded, pouting at Arthur, ‘been cooped up here for two weeks now! Karen’s about ready to murder Grimshaw.’

That sounded about right. The two were impossible to control. Women with strong minds, barking at each other like rabid hounds, mostly. He’d known quieter saloons.

Not wanting to get into that entire argument, he took another drag from his cigarette, stepping off of the rock.

‘Well, can Ms Grimshaw spare you?’ The last thing he needed was that woman coming after him. Arthur had never taken much to authority, but damn, that woman could make a man’s blood run cold with a half-stare.

‘“Can Ms Grimshaw spare you?”’ Karen mimicked, as all the girls looked at him with disdain as though he threatened to take their favourite doll away. ‘What’s happened to you, Arthur?’ She continued, her blonde curls bobbing around her portly cheeks.

‘Three young healthy women want you to take ‘em robbing, you’re worried about house chores?’ Karen went on, waving her hands around, ‘Let’s go!’ She said with all the patience that was expected of her whilst Mary-Beth and Tilly giggled arm in arm.

Thick as damn thieves this lot, Arthur thought to himself, but she weren’t wrong. He was hardly one for gallantry, anyway.

‘Fair enough,’ he chucked ‘you got me. ‘Come on then.’ He beckoned to the wagon as the women squealed between them. If anything, it’d at least give Ms Susan Grimshaw a break from Karen’s constant bickering for a few hours.

As the girls piled into the wagon, Arthur heaved himself up next to Uncle, taking the reins of the Welsh Cob that gave a small grunt of annoyance as it disturbed him from the patch of grass it had nestled its muzzle in.

The ride itself into Valentine was a pleasant one. The sun was higher in the morning sky now and the girls sang, laughed and giggled with one another whilst Arthur and Uncle joined in here and there. He was by far from a soft touch, but there was nothing quite like the sound of women singing and laughing.

His high spirits continued from the moment he rose, even stopping for some time to help an unfortunate man whose horse was spooked and run off into the plains. It took little effort on Arthur’s part, but the man was pleased enough to give him a pack of premium cigarettes. He accepted them gladly and with a welcome cheer for the girls in the back, they made their way into Valentine.

Valentine was a small muddy town, which Arthur had seen the likes of many times before, even if it was slightly more refined than most. Wet and sodden, Arthur forced his boots through the mud, trudging with every step. If there was one thing that he hated more than the cold, it was the goddamn mud.

Much like most of the other towns in the Midwest, it was lively for its lack of commerce. The odd sheep farmer, herding them through the streets, men drunk by noon whilst the women and children sold bread at the side of the street. If you could call it that. The place was covered in mud and shit, but hell, that was most places Arthur ended up.

He hitched up the wagon in the stables, and Arthur leapt from the side and helped the girls out one by one.

‘Uncle, what’re we doing?’ Arthur commented to the drunken geriatric.

‘Well,’ he began, awkwardly stepping off of the wagon, ‘we’re gonna do what any self-respecting maniac does and put the women to work!’

Karen looked far too eager at his remark.

‘With pleasure. We’ll start at the saloon,’ she laughed as the women sashayed off into the mud, leaving Arthur and Uncle to partake in whatever business they chose.

The outlaw, who was there for an obvious reason, made his way first to the sheriffs, picking up any bounties he could, but as he scratched his chin at the board, there was nothing worth taking a bullet over. The gunsmith had little in terms of wears that Arthur didn’t already have or couldn’t steal from elsewhere. It seemed there wasn’t much else for him to look at and not wanting to disturb the girls in the saloon. He did the only reasonable thing and found a perch next to Uncle. Of course, the fool already had a bottle of open whiskey in his hand.

After some usually unwarranted life stories from Uncle and more than a few mouthfuls of whiskey, all the excitement caught up with Arthur as his eyes sagged whilst he stretched his legs out before him. The day was warming up and if he just closed his eyes for a second…

‘Gentlemen! I think I’ve got something good,’ Mary-Beth screeched in hushed tones, slightly kicking at Arthurs’s ankle. He dragged his fingers across his eyelids, pinching the bridge of his nose, and he took a deep breath in, willing himself to focus.

He sat up a little better, and shifting his weight on the bench, Mary-Beth leapt into a story about some fancy house, some sister, some train.

He blinked up at her, her silvery voice recanted the information, clearly excited about whatever she had learnt.

‘Train full of rich tourists, heading to Saint Denis, and then cruising off to Brazil.’ She said with bright eyes, as her golden brown curls bounced around her face.

‘Okay,’ Arthur nodded, certainly paying more attention than he was a full minute ago, as even Uncle seemed to perk up.

‘A train laden with baggage and passing through a bit of deserted country at night,’ Mary-Beth gestured dramatically, ‘as to get to the docks in time for the tides, in someplace called Scarlett Meadows.’ She almost squealed with excitement and Arthur, too, felt the same optimism he’d been tasting all day.

‘Yeah, I know it,’ Uncle commented, somewhat helpfully, whilst Arthur scratched at his chin with his thumb. ‘Yeah, yeah, it’s right out over near New Hanover. Right, it’s real quiet out there.’ He continued, sounding a lot soberer than Arthur knew him to be.

‘Sounds good.’ Arthur nodded as he felt a small bead of sweat drip down his temple from underneath his hat. ‘Where’s Tilly and Karen?’

Arthur felt satisfied with what Mary-Beth had found. He saw little need to stay around the shit hole that was Valentine. He thought it was best to round up the girls and get back before Ms Grimshaw had his guts for garters.

‘I think at the hotel,’ Mary-Beth chimed as she shrugged slightly, fiddling with her shawl. ‘They were picking up some drunken fellers that they were gonna rob.’

‘Why?’ Arthur shot back, standing. This wasn’t a day for robbing a few cents off some drunk invalids and he certainly didn’t want the attention they would no doubt land themselves in.

Mary-Beth chewed at the corner of her mouth, picking at her fingernail as Arthur looked around, hoping to catch sight of either one of the girls.

‘I guess I’ll go see if there’s any trouble,’ he said with a sigh.

He weren’t wrong either. After rescuing both the girls from two shit excuses for men, one who thought it was proper to slap Karen around so badly she was already bruised and bleeding on her face, Arthur felt they all had enough adventure for the day.

As if that wasn’t enough, after rounding them up and herding them into the wagon for departure, some moron in a suit thought it was appropriate to mention how he recognised Arthur from Blackwater.

After a small chase on horseback, a slight roughening up, Arthur decided it was best to let the man live. The man, a Jimmy Brookes, gave the outlaw a shitty pen for his troubles but at least Arthur wouldn’t be hung by supper time for murder. At least, not for that one, anyway.

Once Arthur had arrived back at camp, he couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps letting that Jimmy Brookes live wasn’t the wisest decision he had made this week. The deed was done now and the idea of tracking him down to shoot him in the back seemed more trouble than it was worth. Nodding to both Bill and Charles, who stood guard in the trees on the lookout, Arthur marched back into camp whilst his horse, Montague, turned to face him with a soft neigh.

With a small chuckle, Arthur fished for an oatcake in his satchel and the horse nuzzled and slobbered into his hand. He brushed his mane softly and smiled at the beast. ‘There, boy,’ he said affectionately.

Arthur glanced around camp, not forgetting the information that Mary-Beth had gathered earlier that morning. It was perfect, almost too perfect.

He didn’t know much about Scarlett Meadows, having spent most of his time west, but he was sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to get the lay of the land. Once his horse had contented himself, he made his way over to Uncle, sure that he would be halfway to the moon on whiskey.

‘Uncle, come here,’ he beckoned with the tilt of his head, using his knuckle to push his hat out from his eyes.

‘What is it now, Arthur?’ the old goat drawled, staggering in his usual manner.

‘What’s this Scarlett Meadows then? You said you knew it?’ Arthur questioned, placing his boot on the wooden stool by the table. Hosea sat on the other side, reading the newspaper.

‘Hmm, well…’ Uncle slurred, rubbing his purple nose. ‘Lot of rich folks that way. Big southern houses.’ He nodded enthusiastically to himself.

‘Hosea?’ Arthur questioned, in need of a more reliable source of information.

Hosea folded the newspaper twice and the gang elder placed it on the wooden table, shrugging slightly.

‘Uncle is correct. You’ve got the Grays and the Braithwaites, two families who’ve been in the area for generations and fighting amongst themselves for just as long.’ Hosea said, placing a cigarette between his thin lips.

‘The Gray family earn their wealth from tobacco and cotton,’ he continued, tapping lightly on the table, ‘the Braithwaites, old slave owners and since all that, have taken to moonshine.’

Arthur took a toothpick from his pocket, placed it in his mouth, and worked the cedar around his teeth.

‘Sound like a fine bunch,’ Arthur commented sarcastically, squinting his eyes in the late afternoon sun. ‘Sounds like a lot of money, too.’

Hosea nodded slowly, lighting his smoke.

‘Indeed. There’s a few other notables, Edwards & Co, not that I know a great deal about them aside from their lumbar production. But, well, that’s mostly up to the north, anyway.’

Arthur twisted his mouth and removed his boot from the stool, still feeling that damn bruise on his knee from the Cornwall train.

‘At least if the train doesn’t turn up much,’ he commented, chewing at the pick in his mouth, ‘seems like there’s enough to keep us busy.’

‘Spoken wisely,’ Hosea noted, bringing the coffee tin to his lined lips. ‘I believe Mary-Beth has already spoken to Dutch, who I imagine wants to get on that train as soon as possible.’

‘Sounds about right,’ Arthur grumbled as strode over to his cot, sat down and wrestled with his boots. Another twinge as his knee spasmed.

He really was getting too damn old for this shit.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead 2 #red dead 2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fan #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x original female character #amelia edwards #blemished silk

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forlornmelody · 3 years ago

Text

Resurrection Day

Rating: M (just a lot of angst, really. Character death, some graphic violence, and an afterglow moment)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Jayrose, RedArse,

Linkage: Ao3

Summary: The Outlaws have always had a funny relationship with death, but when one of their own dies, they try to rise from their mistakes.

Note: Idk if this is a fic, or more my headcanons strung together. Enjoy?

-*-*

“Do you ever regret it?”

Jason only half-hears her, his eyelids heavy, and his body so relaxed with release that he might never move again. “Mm?” he mumbles, pulling his body through quicksand so he can lay on his side and face her.

Rose’s skin still glistens in the evening light, her hair mussed, and her face flushed. Her voice still throaty from moaning and screaming that Jason’s too busy reliving those last straining moments he almost doesn’t hear her again. “Do you ever regret...coming back?”

Pushing himself onto his elbows, Jason gazes down at her with a crooked grin. “To Gotham? Only when Bruce breathes down my neck.”

Snorting, Rose stretches one arm above her head, and her chest rises towards him in a way that makes him suck in his breath. Focus. She won’t meet his eyes, and her lips keep forming words she doesn't speak. “No, I mean. Do you regret being brought back?” The warmth in Jason’s belly turns to ice.

It’s all too easy to remember that god-awful laugh, and the red haze in his vision, and the blood in his eyes. The searing pain of each blow, and the ache every time he tries to breathe. The numbness that settles in when he reaches the door and finds it locked--when he hears the egg timer on Joker’s signature bomb.

Remembering what came after is harder. Running out of air. So much water, but it’s thicker than water, and he can’t get to the surface fast enough. Screaming. So much screaming. Is he screaming? Everyone’s trying to kill him. He can’t get out. He can’t get out. He can’t.

“Jason?” Rose only says his name when she’s worried. She squeezes his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin until his vision clears. “Shit. Sorry.” Sighing in frustration, she looks away. “Didn’t mean to bring all that back.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Jason tries to get his breathing under control like his shrink taught him, but it’s easier said than done, and he fears the moment lost by the time he does. He tries to turn it into a joke, to lighten the mood. “That’s like asking if I regret being alive.” Jason huffs a laugh, but it falls flat.

Rose bites her lip so hard Jason half-expects it to bleed. She looks up at him as if she’s confessing to murder. Sorry, Asshole, I fucked up again. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “I was there, you know.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “At the Lazarus Pit?” And there he is, again. Drowning.

“Yeah.” She swallows, and the next part comes out thick. “I was the one who told Ra’s Al Ghul where to find your body. He let me watch, as a thank you.”

Nowhere in that haze of memory does Jason recall seeing Rose, and that it is a whole new betrayal. “Where?” He sucks in a breath. “When?”

“Guess you weren’t happy to see me.” She snorts. “You tried to kill me. Well. Everyone, really. But you were fixated on me.” Rose looks at him, finally. “Thaila had to pull you off me before I stopped self-healing altogether.”

“And then you...left?” He’s angry, as if he has any right to be. Jason probably would’ve done the same given the circumstances.

Rose nods. “And the All-Caste offered to take you in, fix you right up. Guess it worked.” A small smile sneaks onto her lips. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.

One of Jason’s first clear memories of that time--a lonely night in his cell in The Chamber of All. Wondering what happened to her. If she had died right along with him and hadn’t been brought back. Being so angry when he got back to Gotham and she apparently had a life of her own. His memories of her, after, are a little less clear. But the distant look in her eyes tells him all he needs to know.

----

“Dude, don’t be so hard on her.” Roy polishes off yet another hot dog, licking his fingers.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Jason kicks his heels against the edge of the rooftop. He reaches for one of the polish sausages, but his stomach gurgles in protest. Maybe not, then.

“You’ve no idea what she went through to get you back.” He turns to look at him, with those hazel eyes lingering on Jason in a way that always leaves him feeling, well, naked. Which shouldn’t be an issue right? Roy’s seen him naked plenty of times after a mission. There’s only one shower, and that apartment has one tiny ass water heater. Showering together only makes sense? At least there’s room for the both of them, just barely. It often turns into a game of Twister mixed with hot yoga. And like, there’s never been any problem, yeah?

But sometimes the way Jason catches Roy staring at him. Makes him wonder.

If he wants to stare back.

Just every once in a while.

“Like what?” They really shouldn’t have bought the entire foodcart’s stock so the Old Man Gerasimos “Jerry” Angelos could head home early. This is way too much food, even with Roy’s bottomless stomach.

“Maybe you should ask her sometime.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Jason licks his fingers. “It’s easier to not talk about it at all.”

Roy laughs. “Ah, just like how you don’t talk about stuff with anyone else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason gives him a playful look, but the look on Roy’s face stops him short.

Roy doesn’t answer. He reaches over instead, wiping the mustard that got caught on the side of his mouth. His fingers are so unbelievably warm, like he’s made of fire and not skin. And Jason aches when he pulls away abruptly.

“I uh, I just remembered that my laundry’s sitting in the washer. Probably stinks already.” Roy rushes off, not even bothering to wipe his fingers on a napkin.

“It always stinks, Harper!” Jason roars after him, but his friend has already shut the door.

Roy dies two days later.

------

“Would you be angry if I--we brought Roy back?” They’re on a rooftop, They’ve been waiting here for hours for Valentino’s men to show, and still nothing. Not all the Tuesday tacos in the world can make the night any less stale. Rose is on her fifth one when she gets philosophical.

Jason snorts. “You say that like it’s possible.”

Rose doesn’t say anything, and that’s what scares him.

“It’s not,” he says, louder.

“Why not?” She wipes quac from the corner of her mouth, staring at the rooftop across the street as if Roy’s gonna pop out of the skylight any second. “We brought you back.”

She can’t be serious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Rose.”

Rose deadpans at him, her lips tight and firm. “I don’t?”

Jason thinks back to the first time he found her. Her right arm bent backward, her left cradling a wound that had bled out next to her. How her eyes stared out at nothing. Someone had pressed the mute button on the universe, except for the thud of his own heart. He should call someone. Bruce, 911, anyone, but his hands won’t move. “Right, sorry.”

It’s a terrible idea, they both know that, but the thought keeps eating away at him. Every time Jason lets his mind wander, it wanders to Roy--his crooked smile, his careless lean--the clumsiness that shouldn’t belong to a world-class archer, but it does. The headquarters seems so empty without Roy in it--so cavernous yet so claustrophobic like it’s going to eat Jason alive.

-----

Three days later Rose is roundhouse kicking a punching bag when Jason finds her. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit.”

Rose stumbles, missing the bag completely and tumbling to the floor. “The fuck, Jason!” For someone who sees the future, Rose certainly didn’t hear this coming.

Jason helps her up. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit. I don’t want Roy going through what I did.” He meets her eyes. “What we did.”

Rose nods, still breathless and annoyed in a way that makes him want to smother her with kisses. “You got another idea?” Jason swallows, squeezing the hand he’s still holding. “Jason?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know your HLA markers, would you?”

“My what?”

----

Rose hates going to the doctor. It’s rarely a problem--her regeneration usually prevents her from getting sick, and her injuries hardly last long enough. But she’s been around enough mad scientists that she practically glares holes into the nurse when he brings out the needle.

“Don’t kill him and maybe I’ll give you a lollipop afterward.” Jason elbows her other arm.

“A lollipop is not what I want to be sucking right now,” Rose fires back, looking at him instead of the needle. She relaxes slightly, and Jason kisses her, brushing her hair behind her ear.

The nurse coughs. “Alright. Easy in--and done.”

Rose swallows, taking in a deep breath. “Finally.” She closes her eyes, then stands up, rushing for the door.

Jason pauses in the doorframe, looking back at the nurse. “Uh, keep us posted.”

“We’ll call.”

----

It’s a stupid idea. The morgue doesn’t even understand why Jason Todd, adopted son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne wants to keep Roy Harper’s body in their freezer, especially when Oliver Queen seems to want it cremated as soon as possible. Bribing the owner doesn’t even work--not with Queen’s fortune also in play. So, Rose concocts some dumbass story about Harper’s biological family coming in from out of town. It’s so crazy that both Queen and the mortician fall for it.

Both Jason and Rose hold their breath when his phone rings. And Rose, and her fucking precognition, hugs him tight and fucking squeals before the nurse even says it “It’s a match.”

---

“Nervous?” Jason sits next to her, squeezing her hand as the scientist hooks the catheter tube to a vein in Roy’s chest. Jason has a hard time looking at his body, so he focuses on Rose instead.

“Fucking terrified.” Rose laughs humorously.

“Trust me, if they try anything I’ll shoot them myself.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

-----

Rose isn’t sure what’s more surprising, the gleam in Roy’s eyes like he just woke up from a nap, or the desperate kiss Jason gives him when he takes his first breath. Or maybe it’s not surprising at all. She should have known from the way Roy always seemed to be in Jason’s thoughts--he always had a convincing lie, and maybe Rose wanted to believe him. Maybe she should feel angry--betrayed, even, but all she feels is relief.

Finally, Jason remembers they’re not alone, and he breaks off from sucking Roy’s face, his face as red as Roy’s hair.

Roy, on other hand, is not surprised at all. “Missed me that much, huh?”

#melody writes #jayrose #redarse #dc comics #jason todd #rose wilson #roy harper #jayroy #lime #been kind of a rough evening so I posted this to cheer myself up #lemme know if you like it #bi!Jason

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in-somnis-veritas · 4 years ago

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Characters

(This is for an AU currently in the works! This is one of the only available posts for it right now, but make sure to drop by the page and follow us to stay up to date! More in-depth info will be released soon about the world of Adrestia)

Name | Age | Race | Status Mod Paragraph

Tommy | 16 | Half-elf | Commoner

Tommy was born and raised in the town of Alnwick, living with his mom for the first few years of his life as his father worked in the capital city of Somritas as a knight. He was raised completely unaware of his status of being a half-elf or the fact that his mother was, in fact, an elf. Now, 16 years old with a dead mother, he continues to live his life believing he’s human--not even showing the telltale signs of being a half-elf because of a pendant he’s worn since he was a toddler. Not that he knows that’s what it does. Loud, rambunctious, mischievous--he always finds the time to harass his friends or flirt with pretty girls who happened to be nearby. Best friends with Tubbo and with a brotherly relationship with Dream, he’s out thriving as an extrovert. Though it’s safe to mention he’s completely banned from the capital city,

Tubbo | 16 | Druid | Knight

Tubbo's entire existence is illegal, pretty much. Born to two druids, he himself is also a druid. When he was 6, his camp was attacked. All of his people were killed. The only survivors were him and his baby brother. After fleeing, they survived on their own for a week. They were soon picked up by another camp, which Tubbo lived in for 9 years. When he was 15, his camp sent him to the city. His brother stayed behind, while Tubbo made the three-day long journey to the city. Soon after his arrival, he became a knight. He has served ever since. Despite being magical, he appears fairly human. The only true way to tell he is a druid is the triskelion tattoo he has, which is just below the crook of his elbow on his right forearm. Within the city, his closest friend is Niki. She was the first one to find out about his magic, and he genuinely trusts her with his life. Outside of the city, his best friend is Tommy. Considering he can't go inside the city, Tubbo usually goes outside the walls to visit. Tommy was the second to find out. Saying he trusts Tommy with his life isn't true, mainly because he would be the one endangering it to begin with.

Dream | 19 | Human | Prince/Royalty

Prince Dream von Galatea the 1st, born August 12th, 1599, is the sole male heir to the well known kingdom, Somritas, in the northern Adrestia region. He is a very respected and competent prince to his royal adversaries and renowned across the land as an excellent warrior. Dream trains almost daily and vigorously, so much so that many outsiders try their hand at challenging him but have yet to beat him. The man greatly idolizes the old “fairy tales” of the human hero saving others from the monstrous non-human races. Though, this then causes the prince to have a bit of a Hero Complex. When a situation involves or pertains to someone he cares for and is emotionally invested in, he’s generally a very impulsive and sensitive man that will end up following his feelings in the heat of the moment rather than his rationalized thoughts. Other than that, however, Dream’s quick at adapting to new situations and thinking on the spot, especially when placed under pressure. To add on, he’s fiercely protective and compassionate to those under his kingdom’s rule and is seen often interacting with the townsfolk in the Town Square, thus his subjects adore the kind prince wholeheartedly. In order to rise to his rightful place as King, he must venture outside the castle walls and vanquish countless magical non-human races, thus proving himself capable to his father. Subsequently along the way, Dream’s close minded beliefs will get upturned as he begins to discover not everything in his kingdom is as fair and just as he once thought.

George | 20 | Changeling | Upperclass Tailor

George Pruitt is a fairly upper-class tailor born and raised in Somritas. Both of his parents are tailors, and he is one of the most skilled tailors in the city. Many members of royalty favor him and ask specifically sew their clothes for important events. He is Prince Dream's favorite tailor as well. His upbringing was regular and nothing strange happened, but around 14 years old, he started getting signs of magic. He withdrew from people and really only socialized with Dream, which is why they're so close. He tries to seem as human as possible, and hates that he's magical.

Niki | 18 | Human | Commoner

Niki lives in the northern Adrestia region in the kingdom of Somritas as a baker. She owns her own shop where she she sells breads, pastries, cookies, and the like. The unofficial hub of all mysterious strangers, Niki seems to know everyone and everything. While raised on the culture of magical non-humans being bad, her encounters throughout the years change her mind to be more open and welcome to everyone. She makes friends very easily and her shop is one of the most visited in the kingdom.

Techno | 19 | Cursed Human | Prince/Royalty

Technoblade is the prince of the kingdom of Strata, a kingdom in the Adrestia region and one that is allied to the kingdom of Somritas. He was cursed the night before his fifteenth birthday by an unknown intruder in the castle and was shunned by the general public in the kingdom because of his now ‘monstrous’ appearance. He left the kingdom even though the king and queen wanted him to stay and is now searching for someone to undo his curse, which brought him to Somritas. He stays out of the actual kingdom because he would be burned if he ever went inside due to his appearance, so he just camps out in the forest close to it and only goes to the very outskirts of the marketplace and the black market to find someone that can break the curse. Techno is extremely blunt and he’s not afraid to call someone out for being an idiot, but only when he’s comfortable with that person. He hates interaction with people that he doesn’t know and pretty much never talks to anyone unless they talk to him first. He kinda bounces around in different groups of people, but stays with Dream mostly.

Wilbur | 25 | Cursed Human | Outlaw

Wilbur was born in a family that practiced magic. One day, they were caught and the royalty put them up to be executed, but Wilbur able to escape. He would steal things on the streets and retreat to the woods at night. He did this for a couple of years, but when he was 21 he got caught and was scheduled for a public execution. He got one of his eyes removed but was able to escape by setting something on fire as a distraction. He retreated to the forest once again where he practiced witchcraft and lived somewhat peacefully. Then he met Tommy.

Fundy | 20 | Silver dragon-touched human | Traveling Healer

Fundy is a mysterious traveler that works as a healer for money, slipping in and out of towns and leaving little more than a healed patient or two and fleeting memories of him behind. He leaves little opportunity for anyone to get close, and he always carries a wooden fox mask.

Philza | Ealy 30s | Aasimar | Commoner

Phil lives outside of the kingdom, on the edge of a forest with his wife. Aside from tending to his animals and small farm he makes furniture for the more wealthy members of society. He’s an all around kind and genuine normal guy, he’s always willing to lend a helping hand. Sometimes though, when the light hits right, an ethereal glow seems to take form in the shape of a ring above his head. Despite being a regular ol' guy, rumors seem to follow him wherever he goes. Many stories spread about a winged figure slaying beasts either in traps or by their own sword, swooping out of the sky to defend people, leaving nothing left of once feared monsters. Sadly, absolutely none of the rumors are talking about him, couldn’t be. Phil’s just ordinary.

Eret | 20 | Cursed Human | Noble (Court member)

Eret is from a small town on the northern coast of Somritas. They was raised there for the first 17 years of their life surrounded by elves and magic users the entire time. It was a hidden safe haven for elves within the kingdom, a vast majority of its population being the magical creatures. The village was full of so much magic that it ended up causing the humans who lived alongside the elves to become magic sensors, hence why Eret is, well, a magic sensor. They ended up doing something, that something never being disclosed as Eret refuses to explain. It ended up with the high council of elves within the town to be LIVID. They became petty. They cursed him. They made the kid appear magical, ruining Eret’s humanity and forcing them to look similar to an elf with glowing eyes. But it backfired and destroyed their retinas, completely blinding them. So, fueled with the want for revenge, Eret turned on their village and ratted out the magical population. It just so happened to be that they ratted the village out to a royal court member. This gave them a pardon and an audience with the king who gave them an offer. They could help the king as a magic sensor and spy and continue to sniff out the magical congregations or they could burn with the village. Eret chose to stay alive, so they helped the royals torch the village.

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turtlethon · 3 years ago

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"Casey Jones - Outlaw Hero"

Season 3, Episode 23

First US Airdate: November 20, 1989 First BBC UK broadcast: November 11, 1991

A masked vigilante begins a one-man war on New York’s criminals.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles season three rolls on with "Casey Jones - Outlaw Hero". Series mainstay David Wise, whose work we saw most recently in "Take Me to Your Leader", is the credited writer again here.

For the first time I can remember, we get an extended intro for this episode that doesn’t involve the Turtles, Shredder and his bunch, or even the members of the Channel 6 team. Mirroring the very first episode of the show (“Turtle Tracks”), we learn that once again New York is facing a crime wave. Tellingly, the actual crimes we see take place now are extremely petty and by this point, no actual guns are ever explicitly on display.

A man is pulled into an alley and asked to hand over his wallet, along with any bubble gum in his possession; A robber holds up a bakery, demanding an oatmeal cookie and a prune Danish in addition to all the money in the register; finally, a sporting goods store is ransacked by three decidedly goofy burglars. Each time they’re foiled by a man in a hockey mask with tattered clothes, who deals out justice in a very cartoony manner – although at least some of his actions, like sling-shotting all the weights on an exercise machine, could legitimately kill somebody if they made contact. The mystery crimefighter, who speaks like a caricature of Dirty Harry, announces his name as Casey Jones to no-one in particular.

This is the second episode in a row where we get a look at the living areas of the supporting cast. In “Return of the Fly” we saw Rocksteady and Bebop’s bedroom in the Technodrome, and now we get to see April’s bedroom for the first time. Burne calls at five in the morning to demand she investigate reports of “some do-gooder" who’s going “on a crime-fighting rampage, violating all sorts of criminal civil liberties”. The Turtles are being blamed for this, and April agrees to take on the story, if only to clear the names of her friends.

The Turtles are actually occupied with the crisis of having no pepperoni in the lair. They decide to hit the town in the hope of securing supplies despite how early it is, and on the way encounter a lurking Casey Jones, who assumes they must be “gangsters on their way to a big heist.”

After some brief back-and-forth, the Turtles attempt to get Casey to back off by removing their comedy novelty disguises (for some reason, they’re not wearing the rubber human masks in this episode). This does nothing to reassure the vigilante, who runs off yelling that “the Martians are coming!”

In the Technodrome, Krang reveals the Scheme of the Day, as he plans to unleash an army of tiny robotic bugs that will override all of the technology in New York. The devices will then be used to build Krang’s new Super Knucklehead, a bigger version of the device Shredder previously deployed in “Enter: The Fly”.

vimeo

Bebop and Rocksteady hitch a ride on the back of a subway train. After briefly stopping to address the viewer in what may be the best fourth wall break of the entire series (“Hey kids! We’re trained professionals! Don’t try this at home!”, followed by a reassuring thumbs up from Bebop), they deploy hundreds of the bugs that begin to infiltrate the city’s machines.

The Turtles track Casey down as he begins wrestling with a homeless man, accusing him of loitering. They pin the masked vigilante to the ground only for him to escape again. Raphael questions the need for the Turtles to be the ones who deal with him. Donatello explains: “Think, Raphael! He pops in and out of the sewers. He fights crime. He knows kung-fu!” In order to clear their own names, the Turtles have to do something about Casey.

April interviews one of the crooks that tried to rob the sporting goods store, who’s still pinned to the wall even though several hours seem to have now passed. He confirms the vigilante was wearing a mask, but can’t say for sure if he was or wasn’t a turtle. As the cops finally drag him away, April doesn’t see one of Krang’s bugs sneak into her news cycle. The bike begins driving on its own, encircling April in what must be the least convincing end-of-act cliff-hanger to appear in the series thus far.

When we return from commercials, Krang and Shredder are watching from the Technodrome as the bike continues to go round and around, leaving April dumbfounded. Just step out of the loop! Raphael actually has to intervene and throw a fucking sai at the camera mounted on the bike before it’s knocked off-course and rolls off down the road.

The Turtles and April watch as cars drive down the road with no-one at the wheel, appliances chase customers out of the stores, and a refrigerator fires ice cubes as it chases a woman down the street. Raph tackles the fridge and it retaliates by opening its doors and hurling all of its contents at him. Some of the things the machines are capable of here make no sense whatsoever, but it could be worse; it’s still nowhere near as farcical as “Camera Bugged”.

Boom boxes and waffle irons attack the Turtles as hordes of men in beige jumpsuits pour out of a factory (presumably this universe’s equivalent of the yellow hard hat + tan shirt guys in the G1 Transformers cartoon). Meanwhile, Krang and Shredder begin construction of the Super Knucklehead.

The Turtles find themselves overwhelmed and surrounded by a parade of rogue drinks machines and fridges. Things look bleak until Casey Jones intervenes, pummelling the appliances with his bats. Donatello spots one of the bugs, which after being handled speeds back to Krang’s location. The Turtles and Casey follow it in the Turtle Van, with Donnie providing directions from the in-built tracker as Raph drives. The route sends the van crashing into a river as we reach the second commercial break.

When we return, the van is still bobbing around in the water. Raphael chews Donatello out for providing bad directions, but couldn’t he have just said “Donatello, I can’t drive the van into a river”? This is like April and the bike all over again.

Donatello determines that one of the bugs made it into the van’s tracker and was messing up his directions. It slips off, swimming out of the van and back to Krang. With that option lost, the Turtles use a portable tracker to locate the hideout.

Shredder is waiting for the Turtles inside the factory, where he provides a grand reveal for the Super Knucklehead. The Turtles encourage Casey to pursue Shredder and recover the remote control for the bugs, but he charges off in the opposite direction, determined to take on “the big boss man”.

In an office area, Shredder uses the controller to send the bugs into overdrive. We see the Channel 6 crew overwhelmed by runaway machines: a photocopier fires paper at Vernon, Burne is surrounded by typewriters that are going to do... something, and in what I assume is supposed to be a make-up room, a floating hairdryer pursues April. Okay, now we're starting to give “Camera Bugged” a run for its money in terms of absurdity.

As if to acknowledge that yeah, we know this is all a complete farce, we get a new variation on the fourth wall break: April wonders why the Turtles aren’t doing something, and Raphael retorts via split-screen that they’re “doing the best [they] can”.

The Turtles confront Shredder and defeat him by hurling a slice of pie at his face – this is, after all, a David Wise episode. After deactivating the bugs, they head off to face Krang, and even though they have Shredder tied up, they just let him go. Remember this for all the times in the future that the Turtles will bemoan him getting away.

Casey takes on Krang in the Super Knucklehead, but ends up being handcuffed to the side of the giant machine. Leonardo cuts him free, and the pair work to punch a hole in its side, hurling the bug controller into it. The army of bugs run into the Knucklehead, causing it to malfunction and forcing Krang to use an ejector seat. He’s captured by his own android body, and alongside Shredder makes his exit in a transport module.

The Turtles are about to commend Casey for his help when they find he’s already gone. Leonardo suggests that they’ll likely see the vigilante hero down the road. As he heads off into the sunset, Casey seems to agree.

"Casey Jones - Outlaw Hero" is silly, even for a David Wise episode, while never quite becoming outright bad. One of the things that helps it is that it feels like it’s genuinely trying to recapture the spirit of TMNT season one, while still having to adhere to what the show has become two years on. As with “Enter the Rat King” before it, we get the debut of an established character from the Mirage comics.

UPDATE 12/02/2022: I originally speculated that Casey and Rat King being introduced in season three may have been primarily motivated by their inclusion in the Playmates TMNT toy line. It turns out that at least in the case of the former, he was added at the request of Eastman & Laird. Shows what I know!

The debut appearance of Casey Jones in the Mirage comics was in the first and only issue of the “Raphael: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle” micro-series, published all the way back in April 1985. That issue’s story, “Me, Myself, and I”, will be familiar to anyone who’s seen the 1990 live-action TMNT movie, as the bulk of it involves Raphael and Casey chasing each other around New York and fighting before finding common ground. Their rivalry seems to have been flipped on its head for the cartoon: in this episode, Raph frequently notes that he admires Jones’s headstrong attitude. “Outlaw Hero” also borrows from “Me, Myself, and I” in showcasing how Casey’s brutal stance toward even the pettiest of crimes differs from the way the Turtles handle things.

The Turtles and Casey will indeed meet again, not in the next episode but the one after that (“Corporate Raiders from Dimension X”). Presumably someone felt we needed a little breathing room in the middle of all this vigilante justice.

NEXT TIME: You can’t beat a bit of bully in “Mutagen Monster”!

#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT #Ninja Turtles #TMNT 1987 #1989 #Casey Jones Outlaw Hero #Casey Jones #Casey Jones TMNT #Turtlethon

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yamayuandadu · 4 years ago

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300 followers special: debunking Arahabaki

Arahabaki is a mythical figure with a relatively large popculture footprint, mostly thanks to Shin Megami Tensei, but little to no source material to go with it. For this reason, especially in english-speaking spheres, many claims rooted in pseudohistory and hoaxes, such as the image above, circulate uninterrupted. Under the cut, I will attempt to debunk their source. If stories about dogu, piss bottles and improbable journeys to Ecuador interest you, you found the right place.

The claims of Arahabaki's antiquity and in particular associating this obscure deity with dogu – specifically the shakoki dogu - all go back to Tsugaru Soto Sangunshi (I will refer to it as TSS in the rest of this article) and other associated writings, so called ”Wada family documents,” all of them written by a certain Kihachiro Wada. It's a series of forgeries created in the 1970s (with additional works produced through the rest of Wada's life – he passed away in 1999), which in addition to presenting a fictional history of the Tohoku region, centered around a fictional local kingdom, also mention Mayan prophecies, Nostradamus, Mu, and various scientific concepts, usually misunderstood by the author. To my knowledge, TSS is only covered in one english language source, which is horrid and basically unusable - The Sacred Science of Ancient Japan: Lost Chronicles of the Age of the Gods by Avery Morrow, which does present the truth - eg. that it's a forgery - but then the author gets caught up in some sort of Evola-influenced spiritual doctrine which makes him claim that perhaps it's an echo of some "spiritual truth" or something along these lines, which is obviously not a sound argument from the perspective of anyone with even just a passing interest in history. Social sciences are still sciences, not religions. TSS claims shakoki dogu represent an “outlawed” god formerly worshiped by people inhabiting Tohoku, whose name was also their endonym. It doesn't delve deeper into the history of Jomon art, and doesn't acknowledge dogu other than shakoki – considering not all dogu found in the Tohoku region (or even further north) belong to this category, it potentially makes it possible Wada was simply familiar with von Daniken’s confabulations and had no other exposure to jomon art; I have not seen this possibility in any japanese debunking articles, though. It's additionally worth noting here that while the exact purpose of dogu remains unknown up to this day, they're neither a taboo (indeed, many towns use peculiar locally excavated dogu as mascots nowadays, like Ravi from Minami Alps), nor particularly rare – estimatesof the number known today vary between 15000 (National Museum of Japanese History estimate) - 18000 (estimate from this article). The majority are of course not shakoki dogu; the difference between various estimates likely comes from different approach to counting figures only known from fragments.

Wada claimed that he merely discovered TSS, rather than wrote it – according to his account, a case of old documents fell from the ceiling while his house was being renovated in 1948. Supposedly, the discovery – so called “Kansei original” - was compiled between 1789 to 1822, and then copied between 1870 and 1910. Wada later claimed he lost the original, but based on gathered evidence it seems obvious it never existed. Various pages known to researchers, purported to come from the original, the Taisho copy, and writing Wada confirmed to be his own, are written in the same style, and with the same mistakes. Additionally, as a visit made in the house by a debunker at the request of Wada's cousin, who appears to be its owner currently, confirmed it's virtually impossible that a large number of documents could have been stored above the ceiling; it has also been called into question if the house existed before 1950. What the visit did reveal was a large number of plastic bottles containing human urine, left undistrubed since the 1990s. A relatively unsophisticated way to make paper appear older than it is requires soaking it in urine, and this rather offputting find has proven that this was Wada's preferred method of making his writing appear older than it is to onlookers, especially these lacking formal experience with antiquities.

Truth to be told, even without the grand urine discovery, TSS was not difficult to discard as a forgery. As I mentioned above, its particular weakness are bizarre references to scientific concepts and discoveries, revealing a low level of historical awareness of the author – for example, references are made to quasars, continental drift theory and Pluto – discoveries not yet made in the suggested eras; to make it more embarrassing, TSS claims it was based on foreign sources which weren't yet published at the listed dates. It also references natural disasters which never happened, and urban legends and folklore which only developed recently, like the claims about Jesus' grave being located in Aomori prefecture, which only date back to the 1930s (Wada's documents claimed it was a story already known in the Kansei period, in the 1790s...). On top of all of this, a number of purported authentic illustrations were simply traced from contemporary sources:

It's worth noting that TSS wasn't the only fraud Wada was involved in, as we can learn from his wikipedia biography he fraudulently claimed to be a former Imperial Palace escort officer before embarking on his adventure with crafting false chronicles soaked in urine. Tragically, TSS found supporters not only among the expected crowd of various wannabe occultists, frauds and naive teenagers, but also among a number of genuine historians, most notably Takehiko Furuta. It would appear that he became interested in it in hopes of finding support for his theories about Japan originally having more than one ruling family, but with time he fully embraced it, and actively advocated the bizarre visions it contained. A particularly outlandish claim of his was insisting that Meiji era educator and political activist Fukuzawa Yukichi quoted TSS in his work (the quote in mention appears to be a paraphrase from american declaration of independence). It's worth noting that while Furuta seemingly was a genuinely accomplished scholar of Shinran doctrine, supporting TSS was far from his only adventure with pseudohistory. He was also a staunch believer in the long discredited claims about links between japanese Jomon culture and the Valvidia culture of Ecuador, claiming that various references to fantastical lands lying between China and Japan or beyond Japan prove that the Japanese reached America in ancient times (you can torment yourself with one of such articles here). This theory was briefly advocated by a number of American scholars before him, but obviously has no support today. It's nothing but a new take on XVIIIth century French claims about present day British Columbia being the Fusang described in some Chinese texts. Sometimes strange lands and creatures at the edge of the map are nothing more but fantasy. Furuta's particularly shameful contribution to TSS discourse was declaring that undermining its authenticity is rooted in historical prejudice against the inhabitants of Tohoku and Hokkaido. Personally I'm under the impression that discarding an entire region's real, very complex history in favor of fanciful hoaxes is much more likely to be rooted in such prejudice. The claim Arahabaki was an Ainu kamuy, common online, appears to come from a similar place – I will not examine it here, but I find attempts to shield forgeries from criticism by attaching them to poorly documented and historically suppressed beliefs of historically persecuted groups to be even more disgusting than regular fraud of this sort. What Arahabaki actually is? This is difficult for me to tell for sure, but certainly nothing out of ordinary - not a dogu, and not the main figure of some lost fabulous country. There is a number of mundane temples enshrining Arahabaki, for example here. This article also mentions a number of mundane locations enshrining Arahabaki today; curiously, many of them are located outside Tohoku. A number of theories exist, linking Arahabaki to the usual suspects: religious beliefs of the Emishi people, who originally inhabited Tohoku, and may or may not be one and the same as ancestors of present day Ainu; snake worship; ironworking traditions; marebito beliefs; gods enshrined in freshly established fortresses... Whatever the truth is, it will inevitably turn out to be more interesting than hoaxes, as study of history generally proves.

#arahabaki #dogu #smt #japanese history #pseudohistory

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jacquiesims · 4 years ago

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Viper Canyon - Chapter Seven

‘Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon.

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.”’

TW: Violence, Death

October 1852

Elijah McLain turned over his shoulder to the wagon party members that had followed him to Viper Canyon.

“We’ll arrive in town soon. No longer than an hour’s ride, I’d say.”

The three passengers that remained exchanged glances of relief. They were exhausted and starving – the journey had not been an easy one like the last. The party had seen illness, death, attacks from the natives, injured animals that Elijah was forced to put down, and worse.

Jacob and Alice Sawyer were siblings from Pennsylvania who had travelled westward with Jacob’s business partner, Harry Dunn. The two men had been barbers back east and Alice helped run the home they all had shared.

It seemed strange to Elijah that the three of them would come together to Viper Canyon, most men wanting to make a name for only themselves, but stranger things had happened. Most of the bachelors that Elijah escorted came by themselves but it wasn’t unheard for siblings to travel together.

And yet he was still thankful for the skills the men brought along with them – they’d treated Elijah to a haircut and the occasional shave on the trail, and even he had to admit that the prospect of a proper trim and clean shaven face by a trained hand was appealing. He wondered absentmindedly how long it would take for the men to open their barber shop.

Jacob, Alice, and Harry waved goodbye at Elijah as he forged on home, leaving the party behind at their selected plot of land.

He would be back to check on them, certainly, but at the moment, he was eager to get home and rest in a proper bed in a clean set of long johns.

Meanwhile…

The Yates Bank had been open on Main Street for two months exactly.

Mr. Yates, a benevolent man, had made his fortune several times over in foreign trade and decided to move westward with his family in hopes of enriching his coffers in a new economy. He had done just that – many who came across the country needed loans to see their visions of frontier life to fruition, and the Yates Bank had nearly made back its upfront costs of construction in interest already.

John Williams had finally settled into his position as teller at the bank. He’d tried his luck in the mines, but after several weeks with no luck he opted for the safer option of a salaried job under Mr. Yates and his son, who were both fair employers.

John smiled as a young woman came through the front door. The wind behind her carried in the subtle smell of her perfume and his heart skipped a beat. He was instantly struck by her beauty – he’d never seen her around Viper Canyon before, and he would’ve certainly remembered if he had.

“Good day, miss,” he said pleasantly. “How can I help you?”

The woman seemed to have not heard him. She looked around the lobby, eyes lingering on the expensive drapes and well-crafted furniture.

“Madam?”

She blinked her large brown eyes, finally turning towards John.

“Lovely waiting area,” she remarked flatly.

John’s brows knit together. “Yes. It is. Mr. Yates has very fine taste. Can I help you with something, ma’am?”

“Especially fond of the draperies,” she said, taking slow strides toward the teller’s desk. “Do you know who happened to make them?”

“Er…” John was confused, but he tried his best to oblige the woman. “I believe Mr. Yates had them commissioned from an interior designer in Aridia, miss.”

She scoffed.

“Is there anything I can help you with today? We provide loan and investment services, money conversions, and we have some lovely iron safes in the back for sale if you’d like to have one of your very own at home…”

“Well, what about the money?” She asked. “I’m interested in keeping my savings in this bank. They’re much safer here than at my home. Where do you keep it?”

John was relieved, glad the woman was actually interested in doing business. “Our money is kept on the top floor in an extremely secure vault, miss. Only Mr. Yates, his son, and I know the combination,” He added with pride.

“Lovely,” she said. “Could I see the vault?”

“Well,” John fidgeted, “We don’t really allow customers on the second floor unless they have a meeting with Mr. Yates, for security reasons, you see.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I have to see the vault before I know if I want to keep my money here.”

John felt put on the spot. He’d been explicitly trained by Mr. Yates to never let someone up on the second floor unless he was expressly informed that the individual was allowed up there. But if he let the woman go without seeing the vault, then he would almost certainly lose her business. Surely Mr. Yates would praise him if he secured another customer for the bank – by the looks of her frock, she was well-off indeed.

“I’m sure a little peek won’t hurt,” John said with a smile. “Mr. Yates and Mr. Morris are out for the afternoon, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. If you would follow me, miss.”

“Thank you,” the woman said gratefully, following John as he unlocked the door towards the back room.

John stood in front of the vault door.

“Here it is, ma’am. As you can see, it’s an absolute stronghold of security. No one is getting in here without the combination.”

The woman looked the door up and down. “There isn’t any security? No one watching the door?”

John waved his hand dismissively. “There’s no need, really. The vault door is state of the art. Mr. Yates had it brought all the way from New SimCity – and it cost a pretty penny, I might add. I assure you, this door can withstand a blast from dynamite, even!”

“Dynamite, you say?”

John beamed, turning towards the door and giving it a firm knock. “Yes, the manufacturers assured us – AH!”

He turned back around to see the woman brandishing a revolving pistol, the barrel pointed squarely in his face.

“Open it.”

“Miss! Is this really necessary?”

She sighed, growing impatient. “Open the damned door.” To make her point even more painfully clear, she pulled back the hammer of the gun with her thumb, resounding a sinister click.

Cold sweat began to pour down John’s pallid face.

“If you open the vault and let my men take what we like, I’ll spare your life. If you don’t, I’ll have to settle for…”

The woman swirled the gun around in her hand, making up her mind, before pointing it at the tip of John’s shoe.

“Making due with a few of your toes.”

John struggled to speak. “I…miss, please – I can’t…”

“I said open the door, you idiot!”

At the rage in her voice, John’s trembling hands opened the vault door. Horrible, icy guilt swept over him as the woman stepped inside, never letting the barrel of her gun stray.

“That’s more like it,” she smiled. “Nobody needs to get hurt. Just do as you’re told.”

They stood there for a moment, John trembling with fear, until he heard the door downstairs open and heavy feet rush into the waiting area.

“Fantastic work, Rose!”

John was suddenly in the company of several terrifying looking – yet cheerful – men. They began to fill their bags with all the cash and finery in the vault. The woman watched, hand steady as she kept John at gunpoint.

“Don’t take it all, boys,” she said. “Leave the people with a little.”

One of the men piped up. “Can I take the vase? It’d look lovely in the parlor, Rosie.”

“Oh, sure, love. Don’t get too greedy, though.”

John’s blood moved in his veins like slush as the men carried their bloated bags downstairs, leaving the vault nearly entirely empty. The woman’s eyes never left his pallid face.

“Jimmy?” She called.

The smallest of the men – if he could even be called a man, John thought he was more of a boy if anything – strolled over to his mistress.

“What do you need, Rose?”

She smirked. “Take care of this one for me, will you? You know how I feel about witnesses.”

“But-but!” John choked. “You said if opened the door!”

“Don’t be a fool,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “You really believed the word of an outlaw?”

The boy cracked his knuckles, looking at the cowering teller fiercely in the eyes. John’s gaze drew along the deep, dark scar that marred the boy’s face.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” He spat.

John tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat to no avail. “Nothing! I, er…”

“Ugly scar, ain’t it? Got it from a man…who kind of looked like you.”

“What’re you going to do to me?” John whimpered.

The boy grinned darkly. “I reckon I’ll strangle you with my bare hands. I like feeling the struggle.”

“Please!” John cried. “Please, don’t do this!”

The woman scoffed again. “Do you really want to spend the last moments of your life begging for mercy like a coward? You sad little man.”

James reached out with both hands, but before he could grab John’s neck, the man threw up his hands in surrender.

“Please, just shoot me,” he sobbed. “Let me die an easy death, please at least grant me that!”

The woman considered John for a moment. An odd expression crossed her face before she chuckled.

“A lady never dirties her own hands.” She nodded towards the dark-haired boy. “Jimmy.”

The boy grabbed John’s taut neck was a terrible force, tackling him to the ground. The teller thrashed horribly against the brick floor, choking for breath. Stars appeared in John’s eyes, he clawed at the boy’s hands for relief but his grip was like steel – blood vessels began to crack open in his eyes as his vision grew black and distorted.

Rose stood back and watched, sliding her pistol back into her skirts.

John’s body lay limp on the vault floor.

“Lovely work,” she said to the boy.

He stared at John’s unmoving corpse on the floor, expression unchanging.

The woman approached him from behind, resting a gentle hand on the boy’s back.

“Let’s get back home,” she said quietly.

The boy nodded and followed her out of the bank to the waiting getaway coach outside.

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter | Viper Canyon Index | Chapter Eight

(More characters introduced! There are so many...I know the plot seems a bit all over the place but things will all come full circle eventually. Thanks for reading!)

#ts2 #sims 2 #ts2 story #viper canyon story #Viper Canyon #viper canyon: chapter seven

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writing-the-end · 4 years ago

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LoL Chapter 26- Next Right Move

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Where do the hermits go from here? All this knowledge, it bears so much weight. With their enemy being the leader of Lairyon himself, how can they possibly do anything now? Why should they?

_________________________________________________

The hermits wasted no time returning to Eremita. Running as far from Milliara as possible, into the safety of the Ashioll sea. Protected by the mysterious magic surrounding their home, the hermits are able to recuperate from the honor and horror they’ve witnessed. Exhausted from the Chimaera’s Championship, but terrified from what monstrosity Dolios put them through. The phoenix shaped chalice, the grand prize of gold and honor from the games sits discarded at the guild hall. Every night, a few hermits can be found huddled near a fireplace or drinking in someone’s house.

The hermits left Eremita determined to find out who the dark mage was. They knew it was a Councilmember. They never expected it to be the magistrate himself. They never expected to win the Chimaera’s Championship, or stumble in on a plot much larger, much darker than they thought. And now here they are, narrowly escaped the dark mage’s wrath, with no clue what to do.

This is bigger than the hermits. This is bigger than Gildara, or Danes, or anything they’ve ever faced before. This is beyond a scope they can even understand. Why is Dolios doing this? How far has his corruption spread? Who can stop Dolios, the Magistrate and leader of Lairyon? If the king is silent, and the Council is a part of his cabal, then no one is able to stop him.

The hermits take the news in different ways- though no one celebrates their victory. Not after nearly dying in Dolios’s dungeons they only believed were rumors. The training field is empty, except for False. Anger burns through her pain, her kukri digging into the slime dummies she had Jevin make until the bodies rip in half. She decapitates one with a swift swing and turns around, ducking and rolling, before throwing molten blades into the chests of three more. The slime sizzles and burns, as hot as her anguish.

At the sidelines, Wels watches as he buffs out the dents on his armor. He scrubs the metal till he can see his reflection in it, and then a little more. Trying to rub out the memories of the chess game, the dark magic that had trapped them in the sick game.

Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango are together as always. But rather than trying to find trouble, all three sit on a haybale, just watching the animals of Zed’s farm. Tango twirls a stick full of leaves, much to the annoyance of the goat at his feet, eyes distant. Zedaph has been having a sleepover in their part of False’s forge, not wanting to leave his friend’s side. Not after knowing who killed their last guild. He doesn’t want to lose them as well. Impulse has no energy to be his bubbly, happy self. He feels like a cannon with a wet fuse, unable to light up and explode outward. Instead, he just mindlessly runs his fingers through the woolen fur of the sheep chewing on his clothes.

Grian and Mumbo sit on the open windows of the angel’s house. Just watching the sun rise into an afternoon sun across the sea. They say nothing, a rare silence from Grian and even Mumbo. The two friends have nothing to say. They won the championship, but Grian still feels the horror of watching Mumbo forced to move like a chess piece. A pawn, set forward and open to attack. He knew he should have trusted TFC, but in the moment all he could think of was losing his best friend.

Exiting his cave, TFC feels the oppressive mood in the air. He feels like he’s underground in Gildara again. That sense of hopelessness, that dampening weight on his shoulders. The guildmaster looks around, looks at his team, his island. A storm rolls in the distance, likely to come by evening and bless the island with life giving rain. But the hermits are like wilting flowers. Crumpled, lacking the color and life they normally carry with pride. Even the rainbow flags of the guild hall look muted.

TFC hates this feeling, this suspension. Waiting for something to break, something to happen. If it won’t happen, he’ll make it happen. TFC picks up a stone from the mouth of his cave home, feeling the weight of the stone as he wanders to Xisuma’s tower. It’s a good piece of granite, a nice heavy weight without being too strong or sharp. It’s perfect for his plan. He rests the stone in his dominant hand, looking up at Xisuma’s tower, the gleaming telescope at the peak of the building.

And he throws the stone. It clatters against Xisuma’s windowsill, rattling the metal frame but not breaking the glass. The stone falls, and he does it again. And again. Halfway through reeling back for a third throw, the window finally opens. X ducks just in time to miss getting a rock to the head. “What in the name of the gods are you doing?”

“Group meeting. Round up the others.” TFC crosses his arms, looking up at the wizard in the tower.

“What? Why?” Xisuma sighs, but pulls on his mask all the same. It’s too bright for him right now.

“If no one else is going to change the world, then we will.” TFC growls, then walks away. He motions for team ZIT to follow, and even dares to get between False and her training to call her to the guild hall. The open air space, enclosed only by clawlike stones and a ring of younger oak trees beneath the massive, entangling branches of the centerpiece, quickly fills with hermits. Sitting at the tables, Cleo tries to ease some of the tension with her good mead. But even Cleo’s best brews taste like swill right now.

The last to arrive was Grian. Iskall was practically dragging him by the cloak into the guild hall, across the wooden grains of the floor, across the twining knot of birch and dark oak. Once the architechs were seated, Iskall and Grian with their own mugs of mead, TFC looks at the guild before him.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I know what we faced was grim. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be you guys, forced to be pawns in Dolios’s sick game.” TFC notices False’s hands ball into fists at the mention of his name. “Especially to be moved by me, I wish I could’ve thought of a better way to stop him.

“But we went to Milliara to discover who the dark mage was. We did that, and more. Dolios thought he could scare us, silence us. Make us turn on each other, make us choose who was more important and who wasn’t. But we’re not just a guild- we’re a family. It was terrible, but we got through it only because we worked as a team.”

Silence meets TFC’s words. None of the hermits answer him. Normally, he struggles to get his guild to stay quiet for more than a minute. He feels he would have better luck teaching toddlers than talking to this lot. And it makes TFC’s stomach burn like magma to be able to hear rustling leaves, the distant bleat of a sheep.

“And he’s winning.” He growls, looking at them all. “Look at us! Silent, still! Wallowing in what’s happened while Dolios is continuing to steal magic for his own nefarious desires! He’s winning, because we are doing nothing!”

“What can we do?” Jevin sneers, leaning back. “We’re nobodies. An outlaw guild of misfits. We don’t have the power like the king, the prestige like a legal guild.”

“That’s exactly why we can do it! We have our freedom, our strength in being beyond all that. If no one else will stop Dolios, if no one else can stop Diolios, then we should. Look at us,” TFC waves around as hermits pick up their heads. “We’re victors of the Chimaera’s Championship. We have more power and strength in this one hall than most guilds have in their entire history. We have a variety of magic and the creative minds to wield powers. To weave unlike magics into something greater.”

“Why us, though?” Even Xisuma is sitting up, though his voice still has a twinge of doubt and exasperation.

“If we don’t, who will?” The guildmaster looks around, seeing a spark return to the crowd. Thank Artyne, they’re finally talking over him again. “We know who the dark mage is, we know how to break a crystal, we’re not afraid of breaking a few rules! We may not be the heroes Lairyon needs, but we’re the only ones who can do it.”

The surge of pride and power shocks across the hermits. A coy grin parts Doc’s hybrid face, sharp teeth revealed and glinting in the hot summer sunlight. Ren’s tail is wagging so fast it’s smacking Stress and Joe with each hemisphere completed. And TFC knows he’s gotten them hooked when he sees angelic feathers plume out from a gremlin smirk on Grian’s face.

TFC pulls out a map from the nook in a tree, brushing an acorn aside that was stashed along with it. Using now empty mugs from Iskall and Grian, he unfurls the map and gazes at the crescent shaped continent that is Lairyon. He pulls out a piece of charcoal, and sketches four marks on the map. One where Gildara was, a diamond shape that is matched with one in Milliara. But the one in Milliara is crossed out. Danes and their home island get swirls, neither crossed out. “We know of four events that for certain included dark magic. In Milliara, we were successful in breaking the crystal.” He taps on the x-marked diamond. “Unfortunately, we can’t be certain if those husk storms will reappear in Danes or here.”

“We should gather information. Listen in to town gossip, meet with contacts, just try and find any stories that match what we saw.” Cleo hums, running her dead fingers along the map. “Go all across Lairyon, destroy any crystals and do our best to weaken Dolios.”

“And try to find a way to stop his reign once and for all.” Doc adds, his voice growling.

“We need every hermit in on this job.” TFC looks at the map, eyes alighting on Crystalla. Wels came back- it’s time for the other hermits to come home. “Joe, send a message to xB, Hypno, and Beef. Tell them that the Order of Hermits are fighting to take back Lairyon.”

#light of lairyon #lol #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #wizard au #wizard hermits #mcyt #wizard tfc #wizard xisuma #wizard false #wizard cleo #wizard jevin #new hermits coming in!

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years ago

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Hello! Could i request a drabble where orphan!reader gets picked up by the gang only after a few months Arthur does? He's like highkey jealous of the new golden child until she's in a bad situation to get hurt and he instantly goes protective, kinda ends up realizing she's part of his family too along the way. Also i send many praises your way ~ you're so talented and thank you for doing these requests!!

This one turned out greatly different from what I planned, but that’s one of the joys of being a writer. You don’t always know what’s going to happen either. I’ve also never written a young Arthur, so this was a new experience. Anyways, enjoy! There’s blood, violence, poor Spanish (on my part), and it’s topped with a big serving of fluff at the end.

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Arthur leans against the fence, glaring across the paddock at you. You’ve been a thorn in his side ever since you showed up four months ago. He used to think John was bad enough, but you… you’re worse.

Dutch and Hosea brought you in, covered in dirt and thin as a bone, but your pockets laden with stolen trinkets. You’d foolishly tried to rob Dutch himself, hoping to find something you could sell in order to get the day’s meal. Never before had you been caught stealing, but it was hard to fool a pro like Dutch. He instantly knew what you were up to, but he and Hosea saw your potential when they unloaded your pockets and saw all your ill-gotten gains.

Over the next few months, Dutch and Hosea both taught you to read, Grimshaw taught you how to clean and Arthur was told to teach you how to use a gun, though he hated it. He couldn’t believe someone as old as you (though you were a few years younger than him and he was nearly twenty) could barely do anything. He’d heard the story that your parents died when you were very young, taken by yellow fever. After their deaths, you were sent to an orphanage but it was so overcrowded, filthy and miserable you ran away and lived on the streets where you were more likely to scrounge up a meal. Still, Arthur didn’t care for you.

Hosea and Dutch boasted about you as you were eager to learn. You picked up reading and writing extremely fast and Grimshaw had no problem teaching you how to do the domestic work around camp. You liked doing them even, as they kept your hands busy (even though the work itself was dull). Arthur felt smug when you struggled to learn how to shoot a gun or skin an animal, ignoring the remarks by Hosea that he was more likely to blame for being a poor instructor. It was no secret Arthur was jealous.

But how could he not be? For years, it had been just him, Dutch and Hosea. They were the perfect trio and the two men were more like a family to him than he’d ever known before. When Grimshaw entered the picture, it didn’t change things much. In fact she was a bonus as she taught Arthur how to repair his clothes. But when John Marston came, that was when things turned. Dutch and Hosea rescued him when he was only 12 and standing on the gallows, a rope around his neck.

John became the golden boy after that and Arthur felt he was pushed to the side. He tried time and again to gain his status back, to be the favorite boy. He just wanted the same attention he used to get instead of having most of the work thrown on his back. Sure, John learned the proper ways of being an outlaw, but Dutch and Hosea doted on him. Things went on this way for nearly four years and then you entered the picture.

There’s been a lot of resentment Arthur holds towards you. Since he was a few years older and definitely looked like an adult, he was intimidating. Not only that, but he’s been running with the gang for most of his life. You, well, the easiest way to put it were a nobody. Just some orphan girl who could barely pick up a knife before you came here. And now here you are, raking in all the glory while he does all the work.

He sighs, his eyes boring into you. You’ve been wise to avoid him the past couple of days, ever since the robbery. Hosea had taken you into town, targeting a rather rich man who would be easy to rob provided he had something to distract him. Hosea had gotten you to pretend to be his daughter and to have a fit. You’d played the part brilliantly and the man was too easy to rob, and the take was excellent. Arthur was supposed to go with him on that job, but he’d been out with Mary so Hosea took you instead.

Arthur’s mood dips even further when he thinks about Mary. They’d had another big fight and he wasn’t too sure she’d contact him again this time. He loves her, but he isn’t too sure that feeling is reciprocated. A few weeks ago, they’d been out together and some man tried to pick a fight with Arthur. That was the first time Mary saw his outlaw side and it scared her how quickly Arthur drew out his gun and he hadn’t even flinched when he pulled the trigger. They’ve been fighting ever since. Part of him regrets giving her that ring last time he saw her. He felt he was making a commitment to her, but she might not be willing to do the same. He’s started to see how easily she plays him.

A loud giggle draws him out of his mind again and he looks back up at you and Hosea. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, at this old house the gang has been occupying for the last few months. He goes over to his horse, his mind set on taking a ride and being gone for a few days. Maybe that’ll help him clear his head and he can get away from you. Just as he’s about to mount up, Hosea walks over with you in tow.

“Arthur, where you going?”

“Just… around. Be back in a few days.”

“Well, take Y/N with you.”

“Why?” Arthur shoots back.

You lower your head. You know he’s not fond of you.

“Because she needs to learn how to survive out there. Teach her how to set up a campfire, go fishing, hunting. She needs the experience.”

“Why can’t you or Dutch take her?”

“Arthur, she’s your family too, whether you like it or not. Besides, me and Dutch might have something cooking up. Just take her and don’t get her lost!”

Arthur groans but relents. Despite his annoyance, you flash a big grin at him and grab your horse. He doesn’t wait for you to get settled into the saddle before he’s running. Nothing has ever felt like a bigger weight than dragging you along.

For the next few hours, he leads you on down south towards the San Luis River. He hopes you won’t complain about the heat, the bugs or the snakes. You don’t though. You try to pick up a conversation with him a few times, but when he doesn’t take, you settle for gazing at the surroundings. The sky is so beautiful down here, feeling somehow closer.

Over the next several hours, Arthur continues further south and west, down below Tumbleweed even. You’ve never been this far out west, but you like it. The land is incredible, growing in strange, hot formations. The water from the distant river has a richer color than it does back east.

Several times, Arthur tries to lose you. He just wants some peace and quiet, some room and space to think. Besides, if he really wanted to talk with someone, you’d be the last person he’d pick. Unfortunately, you stick to him as efficiently as a determined fly. He just can’t shake you off.

By the end of the night, Arthur is more than irritated with you. He shows you how to pitch a tent and make a fire, but he grumbles the entire way through it and he doesn’t do a very thorough job. You feel you’ve learned nothing, but you know his patience is short enough as it is without you acting stupid, so you pretend to know what you’re doing. You lie down in your bedroll, your head sticking out enough so you can still see the stars.

Arthur, lying in his own tent, continues to glare at you. You’re still young enough to retain your naivety towards the world, and part of him despises you for it. He’s started to see how ugly it all is, how ugly his way of life is. At least he can hold onto the smug thought that someday, in a couple of years or maybe even sooner, you’ll see it too.

Halfway through the night, Arthur’s startled awake. He’s always been a light sleeper, and he’s even more so when sleeping out in the wilderness like this. You’d snored particularly hard and that was why he’d woken. He sighs heavily when you give another loud snore. Why did he get saddled with you?

A horrible thought comes to him. What if he just ditched you? Hell, a couple of days on your own out here would do you some good. He’d come back for you of course, he’s not stupid enough to return to the gang without you. Hosea and Dutch would be furious. He won’t set that kind of example for the 12 year old John neither. After thinking on it for a while, he quietly collapses his tent and gets on his horse, riding away into the night.

He doesn’t go far, of course. He’s not so cruel to leave you completely unattended, but he’s rather interested to see how you’ll handle yourself. Besides, it’ll distract him from Mary and maybe he’ll even get a good laugh.

He settles himself far enough away that the only way to keep an eye on you is through his binoculars. You surely won’t be able to see him. He sets up his own tiny camp and sleeps a while longer.

Hours pass and the sun rises, forcing you to wake. After rubbing your eyes, you look around to find Arthur’s things gone. The sight causes you to leap out of your tent. Did he abandon you? No, you think. Arthur may dislike you, but you refuse to think him cruel enough to do that. The only conclusion you can think of is that someone took him. However, after inspecting where his tent had been, you see no signs of another person or even an animal around. Everything you can see points to the fact that, at some point, he’d just gotten up and left.

You sit down near the hot coals of what’s left of last night’s fire, place your elbows on your crossed legs and plop your chin on your hands. You’ve been trying so hard to stay out of Arthur’s way, to not give him a reason to hate you. It’s not your fault that Hosea and Dutch dote on you so much. Personally, sometimes it makes you a bit nervous, like they’re setting you up for when you finally mess up. But did Arthur really hate you enough to just leave you like this? Will he tell Dutch and Hosea that you drowned or ran off or something, give them some kind of excuse behind your absence? Probably.

The thought of what lie Arthur might come up with sparks an anger you’ve never felt before. Dutch and Hosea took you in, offered to give you a new life with meaning to it. You’re not some orphaned kid living in the street like a rat anymore. You’re an outlaw, and outlaws are brave. You won’t give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing he bested you. Somehow, someway, you’ll find your way back to the gang’s hideout. You smile when you think of the shocked expression on Arthur’s face when you show up.

After eating a tin of peaches, you clumsily pack up your tent and stuff it into your saddlebags, ignoring that a large section dangles out (you tried stuffing it in but it just wouldn’t fit). You kick dirt onto the coals, sufficiently dousing them and then you mount up, determined to head back home. Unfortunately (and under the watchful eyes of Arthur), you start heading east, but you’re not going far enough north.

Arthur doesn’t stop you though. He follows you, constantly checking on your progress and chuckling to himself when you continue the wrong way. He’s provided another good laugh when you pull out the bow Dutch had bought you a few weeks back, but you’ve never used before. It’s clear you’ve never shot a bow before, Arthur watches you struggle to notch an arrow and then try shooting it at a grazing pronghorn. The arrow flies forward about five feet before it lands on the ground. The tip doesn’t even get buried in the sand.

Several more times you try to shoot the arrow, but with little progress. You shoot on and on until the muscles in your arms and ribs throb painfully. Arthur only left you with a few cans of food and a bit of dried beef. Certainly not enough to allow you to survive a few days on your own. But you’ll manage. One of the benefits of being an orphan on the street was you learned how to go a day or two without food. It’s not fun, but you can do it.

A few more hours pass and you’re miserable. Your stomach is growling, but you refuse to eat any of your precious reserves. The sun beats down hard and unrelenting, burning your arms. You’re grateful for your tattered hat as your head and face are spared.

As the sun begins its slow descent in the sky, you come across a small lake. On the south end is an empty cabin. Perhaps you’ll have the good fortune of being able to stay there for the night. After setting up a good place to sleep in the cabin and unsaddling your horse, you take out your fishing pole. However, you don’t know the first thing about fishing and no one bothered to set it up before giving it to you. You know there’s some complicated knotting to it all, and that’s about it.

As the sky grows a bit darker and you’re given a break from the unforgiving heat, you scour the land for any kind of edible plants. The problem is you really don’t know what’s safe to eat, or if some plants must be boiled or cooked before they’re safe. It’s all new territory for you. After finally crumbling and eating some of the dried beef, you go to bed, your stomach still demanding more food.

Arthur chuckles to himself from the safety of his own camp, a rabbit cooking over the fire. You’re really out of your element here. Finally, there’s something he can boast about that you can’t do. Of course, he knows that if Dutch and Hosea ever find out, they’ll be furious, but Arthur’s sure you won’t ever tell them. Especially when he comes back to get you and you find out he was never far away. After eating, he lies down on his bedroll, his hands behind his head. He looks up at the stars, smiling a bit. Depending on how badly you do tomorrow, he’ll fetch you and bring you home.

Morning comes once again and Arthur sits up. After clearing his eyes, he pulls out his binoculars and easily finds the cabin you spent the night in. Your horse is still where you left it, but there’s no sign of movement from the cabin. Figuring you’re just tired and hungry, he waits for you to come out. However, when midday comes and he still hasn’t seen you, he grows worried. After packing up his things, he rides to the lake.

When he arrives, he pauses, listening, waiting. Still nothing. He puts his horse next to yours and inspects it. Your horse greets him with a soft whinny, but she’s clearly hungry in this tiny paddock with no food to browse on. Something’s wrong. You care about your horse more than anything, you’d never let her starve. He gives her a quick pat and then heads into the cabin, hoping you’re not sick or overly distraught.

When he opens the door, his stomach plummets. The cabin is strewn with signs of a struggle, furniture toppled over. A table lies on its side, one leg splintered off. The mess looks fresh, like it happened within the past few hours. The bed in the corner shows signs of having been slept in. It takes him only a second to realize that sometime during the night, someone or maybe even a few people came in and kidnapped you.

Arthur’s not a pro at tracking, especially people. That’s one of his weak spots, but he knows he has to do his best and find you.It’s not even the thought that Dutch and Hosea will kill him if he tells them, it’s that he never intended for you to get hurt during his little prank. He has to fix this.

*****************************************************

You’re tied up to a post in the middle of a paddock, the sun unforgivingly beating down on you. Your throat cracks with nearly every breath, desperate for water. Your skin screams for shade and sweat glides down your back beneath your shirt. During the last hour, your head has started to pound.

When you’d gotten to the cabin last night, you believed, based on the thick coating of dust on every surface, that it hadn’t been occupied in several months. However, shortly after you’d fallen asleep, three men broke into it and captured you. You tried giving them a hard fight, but as they were bigger than you (and there were more than you), it didn’t take them too much effort to subdue you.

When they managed to get you tied up and thrown over the back of one of their horses, they discussed a little. You couldn’t really understand them, as two of them spoke quickly in Spanish. The third, although being a white man, also spoke their language, though his was more broken as though he didn’t quite have a handle on it. After a few minutes, they mounted up and rode off, leaving all your things behind. As they cantered away, your hat fell from your head.

A few hours later, your gut heaving painfully from being thrown over the horse’s rear, the trio slowed down and you saw in the darkness a small house and a large barn with several paddocks outside of it. As the group approached the property, more men came out, speaking again in Spanish. A few of the white members traded some words in English and it became clear what they were going to do. They were going to try and sell you as you were still young and desirable to a great number of men.

Your blood pumped hard in your ears and you tried to break free or squirm out of your bonds, but they were too tight. One of the men grabbed you and you began thrashing and screaming, kicking him several times in the thighs and stomach.

“Este tiene una pelea en ella. Hagamos que tenga sed,” he said. The others chuckled and nodded their heads.

The man carried you into one of the smaller paddocks that had a large pole staked into the sun-baked earth. The ropes around your hands were cut just long enough that he and one of his companions could swing your arms behind you and tie them back together. It became quickly clear that the only way to free yourself was to try and attract the attention of anyone who was nearby, so you started to scream.

“Cállate!” one of the men yelled and held a knife to your throat as tears slid down your cheeks.

“No, déjala gritar,” said a particularly tall man. You gathered from his stance and his dusty clothes that he might very well be the leader of these men. “Se cansará, y no hay nadie aquí para escucharla.”

The man holding the knife to your throat backed off and they all went back into the house or the barn. You knew you only had a few hours until the sun rose, so your best bet at escaping was now while you still had the strength and energy. However, those hours slid by quickly, and you hadn’t gotten anywhere. You’d twisted your arms, rubbing your wrists raw, but the rope held tightly. You’d screamed, but just like the tall man had said (though you hadn’t understood him), you screamed yourself hoarse.

This is where you are now, trapped, being forced to await your inevitable fate. Not once have any of the men come out to check on you. Occasionally one will come out of the barn or the house and go to the other building, or step over to the wall of a small plateau to take a piss, but none of them ever interact or even seem to take notice of you. Sometimes you’ll hear one of them yell from the buildings, but other than that, all is quiet.

As the day wears on, you wonder what the hell they’re waiting for. If they intend to sell you, why don’t they just drag you away. You almost don’t care anymore, you just want to get out of this sun.

At one point, a vulture soars overhead and lands ominously on the roof of the barn, peering down at you with a liquid black eye. He stays there for a long time too, almost as though waiting to see if you’ll die. You know you won’t though. Not today anyways. Despite this horrendous torture, you’re not so dehydrated as to expire. If you’re in this same state in two days, it will be different, but you’re not there yet. One of the men shouts loudly inside the barn and the vulture takes flight.

Finally, gratefully, the sun dips down to the horizon. Your mind wanders back to Arthur and how he just left you. Even though you’ve every reason to, you don’t hate him. Sure, you’re angry and hurt that he just disappeared during the night, leaving you completely alone. You’d looked up to him during these past few weeks. Despite being only a few years older than you, he had so much more knowledge and he had such a cool, collected attitude that you admired. Not only that, but he was good looking, even though you know he’s involved with another girl. Still, as your burnt skin aches and your wrists crack with dried blood, you can’t hate him. Hell, you would’ve probably done the same thing were you in his shoes.

Stars flicker in the sky above as the horizon grows darker. As the air cools, you feel a slight surge in energy and you try to wriggle yourself free again. While you squirm, you realize if you angle your right hand in a flat shape and don’t clench your hand or wrist, you might be able to slip free. You do so and your hand begins to slide out. The rope catches at the widest part of your hand where your thumb grows out of your hand, but you angle it in such a way that the rope continues up and over. Finally, your arms fall loose. You’re free.

You fall onto your hands and knees for a moment. Your legs are exhausted from being forced into the crouched position for so long and your feet have gone numb. You give yourself one minute to recollect yourself, then you stand up and start walking to the fence farthest away from the barn.

Just as you’re climbing the fence, the barn door opens and you hear someone yell at you. As quickly as you can manage, you start running, but the whole group is aware now. They charge after you and two of them swing lassos around you. A shrill scream leaves your throat as you fall to the ground, the ropes tightening around your elbows, pinning them to your body.

“Ah, still have fight in you,” one of the men says in a thick accent. He chuckles beneath his thick mustache.

The tall leader glares down at you with a nasty smile. “Átala de nuevo, pero hazlo mejor. Asegúrate de que no pueda escapar esta vez.” The others nod and agree. The leader bends his knees to look you in the eyes. “Try to escape again, we will show you what we will sell you for.”

A sickening chuckle goes around the circle from all the men. You can do nothing but try and look angrily back at him, though you’re terrified. He smiles, puts a cigar in his throat, and beckons to the two men holding you with ropes.

Just as they bend to pick you up, a deafening bang echoes not far off and one of the men’s heads shoots out a thick stream of blood. He stumbles and falls, but just as the others are turning to look at the source of his death, another one falls, clutching his neck. You hear a horse thundering towards you, roaring as your captors return fire. You can’t see who it is through the tangles of legs between you and your rescuer, but a spark of hope flickers in your chest.

As more men topple, you get the urge to fight. You start kicking the men closest to you, knocking them down and making them easy targets. You smash your heel into the ankle of one of the men holding your ropes. He falls and you climb onto him, slamming your fist into his face over and over.

Just as the last of the men fall, you’re suddenly yanked from the man you’re beating. A thick arm goes around your neck and the barrel of a pistol gets shoved to your temple.

“Drop your gun!” the tall man says. “You want her dead?”

This is the first time you’ve been given the chance to look at your savior and your eyes land on Arthur. He looks angry and worried at the same time, his pistol pointed at the man.

“Let her go,” he tells the man, who just chuckles.

“I have the upper hand, chico. I make the rules. You want her alive? Drop your gun!”

Arthur complies and throws down his gun. The man’s finger fiddles a bit with the trigger and he laughs again.

“Good. I’ll give it to you, hijo. You can shoot real well. If it wasn’t my men dead, I’d invite you to my gang.”

“And what gang is that?” he snarls.

“Del Lobos, chico. I know you’ve heard of us.”

Of course, the Del Lobos. The gang made of Mexicans and Californians looking to seize power after they themselves were stripped of their own. Honestly you’re surprised it’s taken you this long to run into them. Seems that most people who live south of Blackwater have dealt with them. Arthur’s eyes betray that he’s certainly heard of them.

“Just let her go, buddy. She ain’t done nothin’ to you.”

“Why she so important?” the tall man demands.

“Because… she’s my family. I just want to bring her home.”

The tall man makes a mocking, simpering sound and then laughs again. “So sweet. Familia. Greatest strength there is, and yet the greatest weapon. But… I don’t want to let her go. She’s… how you say… valiosa. People pay lots of money.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. You know he won’t have any chance to save you if you just stand here and let yourself be a damsel in distress. Before Arthur has the chance to respond, you pick up your foot and slam it against the man’s shin. His hold on you loosens and his gun points up in the air as he cries out in surprise and pain.

“Maldita sea!” he yells and Arthur takes the distraction, pulling out a knife and throwing it. His aim is true and the knife plunges into the man’s eye, throwing his head back as you duck and break out of his grip.

When the man falls, gurgling as he dies, you look at Arthur, breathing heavily. He picks up his pistol and holsters it. Then, with a guilty expression, he looks at you.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you I might add.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really leave. I had my eye on you the whole time. Well, most of the time anyways. Thought.... Thought it might be interestin’ to see how you faired on your own.”

“So me getting kidnapped, beaten and threatened to be sold was interesting to you, was it?” you snarl, your anger picking up.

“No, it wasn’t. I didn’t think this would happen. Here.” From his satchel he pulls out a waterskin, handing it to you. You snatch it from him and drink greedily. While you’re drinking, he goes over to the man’s corpse and pulls out his knife, wiping it clean on the man’s clothes.

Once you’ve had your fill of water, you hand Arthur his waterskin back and look around. By his horse you see yours not far behind. “Thanks for… for getting her. Saves me the trouble of having to track her down.”

Arthur just grunts in response. “Well come on. Think we’ve had enough of an adventure.”

The two of you mount up and begin riding off. As you leave the property of dead men behind, Arthur turns to you.

“You aren’t going to tell Dutch and Hosea about this, are you?”

How dare he ask you this? You nearly died back there, and if you hadn’t been killed and if Arthur hadn’t showed up, you’d have lost your freedom.

Arthur looks at you with a sad expression. “I’m really sorry about all this. I… I don’t know why I thought leaving you alone out here was a good idea. Guess… with the way Dutch and Hosea talk about ya, it’s like you can’t do nothing wrong. Maybe I just wanted to prove I was better at somethin’ than you.”

“Better at something?” you say. “Arthur, I’ve been idolizing just about everything you do for weeks now! I can barely hold a gun while you just shot like eight guys on your own back there. You can do a million things I can’t, and even the stuff I can do, you can do better.”

He sighs and looks ahead. “Don’t seem that way with how they talk about ya.”

“Arthur, I don’t want to be the golden child in the gang, I really don’t. But I can’t control how they act over me. But… I won’t tell them about this.”

He visibly relaxes and thanks you.

“But can I ask,” you say, “why did you go to all this trouble to save me? It would’ve been easy enough to go home and tell the others that I’d just run off or something like that.”

He sighs. “Because that wouldn’t be right. I… I couldn’t let you be killed by those men if I knew I could do something about it. I already have enough sins to carry, I don’t need to add your death to that list. Besides, you’re… you’re my family, miss. You, Dutch, Hosea, Susan… John. You’re my family. Sure, we ain’t always gonna get along, but no family does. Besides, I’d rather have you part of it than not.”

You smile at him, your heart flooding with warmth and affection. That was the first time you felt something for him that was more than just admiration or idolization.

You sit now on the bed, Arthur sleeping next to you. You’ve been dating him for a few months now, but it’s hard to think that you’ve known the outlaw for nearly twenty years. They haven’t been easy either, secretly being in love with him and watching him prance after Mary, finding out about Eliza and his son Isaac and then their deaths.

Arthur’s grown remarkably since you were captured by the Del Lobos, and not just physically. He developed an extremely strong sense of loyalty towards Dutch, Hosea, you and even John, though he was badly hurt when John disappeared for a year after Jack was born. The gang’s grown remarkably since too, adding over a dozen more people.

Arthur stirs awake beside you, rolling over to expose his strong chest. You smile when he looks up at you and sighs sleepily.

“What you doin’?” he groans.

“Just writing,” you say, closing your journal. Another habit you picked up from him. He puts his hand on your back and you lay down, plopping your head onto his chest after kissing his neck. He sighs again, his arm settling over you.

“What you writin’ about?”

“Nothing much. But you remember that first camping trip we took?”

Arthur groans and chuckles a bit. “Oh God. That was awful. I don’t know why you liked me so much. I was the biggest ass.”

“Maybe. But I thought you were cool. And maybe I kinda wanted to be like you.”

“At least you were nice enough never to tell Dutch and Hosea.”

You chuckle and slide your hand over his, which is resting on his stomach. You place a soft kiss over his heart and settle down to get some sleep.

“Do you have to do this job in Blackwater tomorrow?” you ask.

“Darlin’, I told ya. Hosea and I ain’t doin’ the ferry job. We’re just goin’ to town, gonna try workin’ on that real estate scam and keep an eye on things while Dutch and the others work on the boat.”

“Mmm, good. Somethin’ doesn’t feel right about this job,” you say. “Just… promise me you’ll come home safe?”

You look up at him. He can’t help but melt at your large eyes. He kisses your forehead. “I promise, sweetheart.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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wizardessheart-sideb · 4 years ago

Photo

Image ID: A chapter image done in the style of Wizardess Heart. A large, off-white imagine with a guy on it. He’s wearing a dark gray uniform. There’s a lavender bar over him that reads “Tsukasa Kuze.” The rest of the text reads “Main Story” and “Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting” /End ID]

Summary: I've been chosen as a provisional student for the famous Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy! But as the Trial period goes on, I'm hit with too much at one time: trying to catch up with the prodigy students of the Night Class and becoming buddies with the quiet and kind Tsukasa Kuze. Tsukasa is wonderful, but as his health takes a turn for the worse, I have to find a way to make him well again.

The sun was starting to set as the train pulled into Gedonelune Station. I was ready at the doors, things gathered together and I was practically vibrating. Once the doors opened, I’d enter Gedonelune Town. Just to think, the moment I’d been waiting for for years was finally almost here!

“Aren’t you eager?” The Acceptance Letter commented snidely as he floated over to me. He’d been like this entire trip. I tried to ignore his sour demeanor.

“Of course I am! This is the beginning of something amazing!” I replied.

“You mean it could be. You’re still not an official student,” he pointed out. Take deep breaths, just try to ignore his jabs. But that was easier said than done.

“So? Why should I let that bring down my mood? This is still an awesome experience!” I did my best not to sound angry. He was probably one of those idiots who thought showing emotion in arguments meant you were invalid. He just sighed.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” he said. For a moment, I thought I’d finally won. But then he spoke up. “But you better get your head out of the clouds. If you don’t get serious, you’ll never make it here.”

“That’s not fair. Just because I’m excited means I’m not serious? How in the world are those related to each other?” I retorted.

“Ugh, you know what I mean.”

I bit my tongue. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was thinking I was being immature. How many times in my life had I heard that my enthusiasm and happiness was immature and that alone meant I didn’t deserve respect? Enough times to know the Acceptance Letter would just scoff and say that pessimism and being a jerk makes you more “adult” and worthy of respect. A terrible outlook on life, but whatever.

The train came to a stop and as soon as the doors opened, I flew onto the platform and into town. The pastel pink and orange sunset became more and more vivid as the sun made its daily plunge into darkness. Little by little, the streetlamps and windows of the town started to light up, glittering like the stars back in home in Reitz.

The town was so busy, even though it was getting late. It was so unlike Reitz, where things started closing up at five or six in the evening. I found a small bench to sit on, waiting for one of the prefects to come pick me up.

“What do the prefects look like? What should I be looking for?” I asked him.

“I don’t know what the other one looks like, but the one that usually comes to get students has short black hair and green eyes. He’s fairly tall, if I remember correctly,” the Acceptance Letter told me.

“Okay! I’ll keep my eyes peeled for him.”

“It’s strange, though…” The Acceptance Letter started to speak, but then trailed off. That’s not exactly something I wanna hear, I thought.

“What?”

“Usually, Nox is always here to greet the students. He’s never been late once,” he told me. That was a bit concerning, but I quickly reminded myself that I shouldn’t assume the worst right off the bat.

“Isn’t the campus far from town? He could’ve been held up,” I suggested.

“Potentially. Hopefully he’ll be here soon.”

That didn’t really inspire any optimism in me, but what else could I do? Every time I saw someone vaguely matching Mr. Letter’s description, I’d perk up, but every time they’d walk away. The minutes turned into hours. We waited and waited and there was no sign of Prefect Nox. I kept a constant look out for him, but as the night dragged on and the sunset was replaced with a star-filled sky, there was no sign of the prefect.

“Should… um…” I trailed off. How can I even contact him? It’s not like I have a Magic Phone or something… I fell silent, unsure of what to do. The crowds were slowly thinning out and just when I was about to suggest we head on by ourselves, a Magic Note flew into view and landed neatly in my lap. “Oh…”

I quickly unfolded and read it. It was an apology from Prefect Nox and Prefect Rex, telling me they were tied up on campus and couldn’t come get me. They said the Acceptance Letter would be able to bring me to campus in there stead. I fought back a sigh. To say I was irritated was an understatement. I really wish they’d sent this out earlier. I could’ve been settling in by now… From my side, the Acceptance Letter sighed.

“That’s really a shame. But I suppose I can lead you back myself,” he said. You… “suppose?”

“Can we go get some food first? I’m starving.”

“No! We can’t take any detours. We need to get to campus immediately!”

“But we’ve been sitting here for hours and I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“You can eat once we get to campus. Your side of campus has a cafe that never closes.”

My side of campus…

The Night Class.

A secret student body of the Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy that studied elemental dark magic. I don’t know why I’d been chosen to be a part of it, but here I was. My dark magic was basically non-existent; Gedonelune outlawed all dark magic centuries ago. There were some movements to try and end the ban on elemental dark magic, but so far, they were just movements.

The Acceptance Letter trudged ahead, leaving me behind. I gathered up my things and followed after him. Despite it getting late, lots of shops were still open and the smells wafting onto the street from cafes was intoxicating. The sharp ache in my stomach reminded me how long ago it’d be since I ate. Why was he so dead-set on me not eating? Did he want me to starve?

“Are you sure I can’t just pop into a cafe and get something to go?” I asked, hopefully.

“No. We need to get to campus.” I fought back a pout.

“It’s easy for you to say that when you don’t need food. My last meal was ten hours ago,” I pointed out.

“Then you should’ve packed snacks,” he replied sourly.

“You showed up to my house and gave me an hour to pack. Of course I didn’t grab food.”

“It’s not my problem you didn’t pack food.”

I’d get better results talking to a wall. The urge to tear into him was strong, but I bit back my words. It wouldn’t do me any good to fight with him. It’d just make our trek to the castle awkward and no doubt I’d be in a worse mood than I already was in. Also I wasn’t sure if physically tearing him would count as murder.

“Fine. Let’s go, then.” If I could breeze past him, I would. I just hoped this trek wouldn’t take too long. My stomach kept growling the longer we walked. And to my dismay, the amount of shops slowly dwindled until we reached what looked like a small boathouse. Beyond it, dark waters spread over the land and at the end, the towering castle loomed on top of a hill. My heart raced at the sight.

“Will we be riding a boat to campus?”

“At this hour? Good heavens, no! We’ll be taking the bridge route. Come along.” He made a sharp turn, walking down a path that went along the lake. My soul shriveled up.

We walked and walked and walked and walked. We traveled on the outskirts of a forest, down a long bridge and through the face gate, up too many flights of stairs, and when I thought we were done with stairs, there were even more. The bottoms of my feet were aching and my legs were nothing more than jelly when we reached a mausoleum. I didn’t care if the Acceptance Letter was just going to kill me and bury me here; I wanted to rest.

“This is the entrance to the Night Class. There’s only one entrance to your part of campus, so remember that you need to go through the casket with the name ‘Robin Geralta’ on it,” the Acceptance Letter instructed me.

“Robin Geralta? Who’s she?” I asked.

“She was a Night Class student like yourself. She was Prefect last year.” Hm. Not sure if I liked that past tense.

“‘Was?’”

“She got pregnant in the middle of last semester and took a leave to have the baby. She’s alive, so I don’t know why they put her name there,” he said.

That’s a little too morbid for my tastes. But I’m glad she’s alive and well. The mausoleum was surprisingly well lit and sure enough, on a stone slab there was Robin’s name, crudely chiseled into the stone. That didn’t help me figure out if it was a jab or an honor, but I wanted to believe this was done with good intentions (just with bad craftsmanship).

“Well?” I flinched as the Acceptance Letter spoke sharply. “Go ahead and lift the lid up!” So demanding… Although my body protested, I leaned down and lifted the slab up. Green light and a light fog came out from the darkness; I could barely make out the stairs. The Acceptance Letter immediately floated in, going down the stairs. Great. More stairs. I groaned and followed.

Thankfully, this staircase wasn’t too long. It felt like we reached the bottom landing after only a few steps. The area, again, had more light that I expected. There were fake windows with moonlight pouring in and wrought iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. This must be campus, then. Even with the lighting, it’s a lot more dreary than I imagined it would be.

“What are you doing here?!”

I turned to the demanding voice. A handsome, slender man with black hair was quickly approaching us, robes flowing behind him.

“Nox, this is the new student,” the Acceptance Letter told him. Nox’s demeanor immediately changed from anger to surprise.

“The new student?” Nox asked, blinking. His face fell. “I’m sorry we couldn’t come get you. I, uh, I’ll walk you to the dorms.” He motioned for me to follow him and I quickly fell into step with him.

“What’s with the face? You look terrible,” the Acceptance Letter told him. So, he’s rude to everyone. I don’t know if that makes me relieved or sad…

“We’re actually in the middle of an investigation and this part of campus is locked down,” Nox explained. Investigation? A lock down? What did that mean? “Let me get you to the dorms and I’ll come by later tonight to give you a real orientation.” Nox grabbed my arm and started pulling me along down the hallway in front of us. The Acceptance Letter just sighed and made a home in my bag.

“This is the end of the line for me. Good luck on your Trial,” the Acceptance Letter said. “You’ll need it.” My fist clenched, but I stayed quiet. Was that little jab necessary? I hated to think it, but good riddance.

“Did he give you a lot of trouble?” Nox asked me.

“Oh no, not at all!” A lie, but sometimes, a little white lie is sweeter than the truth. Nox smirked at me.

“You don’t have to lie. We all know the Acceptance Letter is a jerk. I was just hoping he wasn’t too bad to you.”

“He’s just, um, a little intense…” I replied. Nox just laughed. We stepped up to a stone arch with gray gauze dangling down from it

“That’s one way to put it,” he said. “By the way, this is the only entrance to the dorms.” He didn’t hesitate to pull me in. In a second, we were outside in a forest. Trees surrounded us and there was some kind of black fog dancing among the trees. Nox lead me through a gate and in front of us was an impressive building. “This is the dorm. To get inside the building and your room, just tap your wand to the door handle.”

The foyer was strange. Dark wood and dark furniture was everywhere, but the chandelier shone brilliantly. It felt dark, but more in atmosphere than in lighting. I couldn’t say I was used to this. Most of the buildings in Reitz were definitely not decorated like this. Well, maybe around Halloween some where, but this wasn’t normal to me at all.

“This floor has the common room, a game room, mine and Rex’s suite, the spa, and an infirmary,” Nox informed me.

“Spa?!”

“It’s nothing fancy,” he said nonchalantly, as if he was talking about a vending machine and not a spa. “But it’s nice after a long week.” No, it’s definitely fancy to have a spa in your dorms… Although part of me wondered if maybe this was just a private school thing. Maybe all private schools had fancy things like this. As Nox pulled me towards the elevator, a door to our left opened and a young man, sickly pale and purple hair framing his face, walked out.

“Hello!” I said cheerfully.

“Hi there.” He gave me a kind smile. Warmth like sunshine radiated from him. I couldn’t help but give him a smile back.

“I guess you’re the new transfer student?” he mused.

“I am! Wait, how did you know that?!”

“Prefect Nox told us yesterday we’d be getting a new student and to behave ourselves. Uh, I mean, told us just to give us the heads up.” He grimaced as Prefect Nox gave him an exasperated looked. I just giggled. He seemed really nice! And man, what a relief that was. Part of me was worried everyone was going to be like the Acceptance Letter. But Nox and this guy seemed genuinely nice.

“Pfft, I didn’t hear that bit about behaving,” I told him.

“Haha, thank goodness,” he laughed. I gave him my name as I stuck my hand out for him. He shook it gently, his skin soft against mine.

“I’m Tsukasa Kuze,” he introduced himself.

“Tsukasa, how are you feeling? You scared us…” Nox asked him. The smile from Tsukasa’s face disappeared immediately.

“I’m sorry about that. But I’m feeling fine. I can go back to class now.” The what I was sure was supposed to be reassuring smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nox just frowned at him.

“No, you can’t. Another incident happened and class is canceled for the rest of the day,” he said. Tsukasa’s face fell, but he nodded.

“That’s understandable,” Tsukasa replied.

“Tell you what, can you do me a favor?” Nox asked. “Can you take our new transfer student to their room for me? I really need to get back to campus.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Tsukasa nodded. Nox smiled, relieved.

“I owe you one. They’re in Isabelle’s suite in the room between hers and Aika’s.”

“Okay, understood.” Nox turned to me.

“I’ll come back in a few hours and give you your orientation, all right? Welcome to the Academy, by the way.” And without another word, he quickly left. Tsukasa sighed, shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

“He’s usually not this frazzled. He’s just stressed,” he said. What happened to make him so frazzled, though? The memory of his anger when he first saw me popped up in my mind’s eye. He didn’t look ready to kill, but it looked like he wasn’t that far off from it.

“I see. I wonder what happened to make him like this.”

“I don’t know. But we’ve been having a lot of weird things happen on campus this semester.” He sighed before glancing down towards my feet. “Here, let me help you.” He reached for my suitcase and picked it up. I quickly tried to grab it from him.

“You don’t have to carry my stuff!”

“You have both hands full. It’s fine.” He gave me a warm smile and somehow, I felt unwilling to argue with him. I trailed after him, going into the elevator and riding up to my floor.

“So… Um… What year are you?” I asked.

“I’m an Unus student. What about you?”

“Me too!”

“Great! We’re classmates then.” The idea of having Tsukasa in the same class as me was calming. I wouldn’t be in a class full of strangers. I mean, it would mostly be strangers, but I had at least one friendly face to look to.

The doors to the dorm suites were propped open with everything from books to bricks that looked like they were taken from school buildings to platform clogs. Tsukasa turned into one and I quickly memorized the number as I stepped inside. There was a door to our left, to our right, and three in front of us. All the doors except the one in the middle were open and I could hear voices and music coming from the dorm room to my right.

I took out my wand and tapped the knob like Nox instructed me. It opened immediately and I went inside. The room was fairly spacious and there was only one bed. Thank goodness. I have the room all to myself.

“Oh, you have a single too,” Tsukasa commented, placing my suitcase down by my dresser.

“You don’t have a roommate either?”

“Well, yes, but my room is set up for two people. My brother sleeps over on the weekends, so it’s like I have a roommate, but just for a couple of days. It’s not that bad.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah. He’s a Day Class student though, so we only see each other on the weekends.”

“That sucks.” I couldn’t imagine having a sibling and then getting separated from them like this. Although I think the siblings back home in Reitz would disagree with me.

“It sort of do- Well, it’s not too bad. I still see him a lot.” He smiled, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Tsukasa? What’re you doing here?” A girl’s voice suddenly filled the room. I looked over and a girl my age stood in the doorway of my room. But as soon as our eyes locked, she hurried in. “Oh my gosh, the transfer student is here?! Welcome to the Night Class! I’m Aika, I’m in the room to the right!” Just a few steps behind her was an incredibly tall guy with long, pinkish-purple hair.

“I think it’s technically to the left,” he said. “At least that’s how it is when you walk into the suite.”

“Ugh, you know I’m not good with directions, Dorian!” Aika complained. He laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders. I had to wonder if they were friends or dating. There was a sigh by the door.

“Oh boy. Here we go again.” A girl with long purple curls scampered into the room, a platter of cupcakes in her hands. I tried not to stare at them. It’d been so long since I ate… I prayed my stomach wouldn’t make any noise. The curly-haired girl grimaced.

“I’m sorry about them. They do this a lot. I’m Isabelle, I’m in the room over there,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

“It’s nice to meet you guys!” I said before introducing myself.

“Nice to meet you too!” Isabelle said. “Here, I made these for you this evening.”

“Thank you!” Isabelle was an angel on earth, that much I knew. I took the platter and put it on my dresser. Maybe I should’ve showed some more restraint, but I immediately tore into a cupcake. Dorian snatched one off the plate, taking a bite before giving it to Aika.

“You can have one too if you like, Tsukasa,” Isabelle told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead!”

“Thank you.” Tsukasa instantly cheered up. He grabbed one and started nibbling on it. I was already on my second one.

“These are really good, Isabelle,” I told her. She beamed.

“Thanks! I’m glad to hear it. I was worried my cooking was a little rusty,” she laughed.

“They’re right. These are perfect,” Tsukasa said as he joined my side.

“Yeah, they’re okay,” Dorian said. He took Aika’s cupcake out of her hands and took another bite. She gave him an indignant look.

“Good!” Isabelle said. She smiled and leaned against the wall next to Dorian. Next to him, it was evident how short she was. Although Dorian looked unnaturally tall. I wonder just how tall he is.

“I’m 6’9 and Isabelle is 4’1,” Dorian spoke up suddenly. “I can read minds.”

“What?!” He can read minds?! No, that has to be a joke, right? But as I stared at him, he looked so serious. Aika rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. He just laughed.

“Dorian, stop messing with them. He just make a lucky guess. You’re not the first to stare like that,” she told him. “He’s too all and since we’re short in this household, he just looks even taller.”

“I didn’t realize you were that tall,” Tsukasa frowned.

“Height isn’t everything,” I quickly said. Immediately, Tsukasa’s mood brightened a bit.

“I actually agree,” Dorian commented. “I prefer shorter partners and they’re easy to find for me.”

“Oh, please, like you have a preference at all,” Aika teased him. He just gave her a teasing smile back

“You’re my preference,” he replied.

“Oh my God, shut UP. You’re so embarrassing!” she cried. Her face was bright red and she tried to hide it in her hands. Aw, that’s kind of cute. I’d like someone to be cute with.

“I like tall women, but really, I don’t care in the end. As long as you’re not a guy, my little bisexual heart is happy,” Isabelle commented, clearly trying not to laugh at Aika. She shifted her weight and looked off into space.

“You know, we’re a pretty diverse campus now that I think about it. We have students of every size, half of us are foreign exchange students, and we’ve got enough queer students to make a club for it,” she said.

“It’s a shame we can’t flaunt any of that.” Again, Tsukasa’s shoulders fell a little.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to show off how diverse we are. But that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Not with the whole secrecy thing,” I said.

“It’s not so bad. We’re safe here,” Aika pointed out. I wanted to ask why that mattered: after all, this was a school, of course it should be safe! But Tsukasa beat me to the punch, quickly speaking up.

“Yes, but it’s stifling, don’t you think? We can’t tell anyone about our accomplishments. We just have to stay silent and pretend we’re all self-taught prodigies once we graduate,” he argued.

“Frankly, I don’t care if we’re stifled,” Isabelle said with a shrug. “If we’re safe, that’s all that really matters to me. I don’t care if I can’t put this on job applications. I’m safe here and I don’t need anything else.” Tsukasa’s lips were pressed into a fine line and everyone could see he was deciding whether or not to fight back even more.

“I guess when you put it that way…” Tsukasa still looked like he wasn’t convinced, though. Dorian gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ll understand it when you’re older. There’s nothing better than feeling safe and being secure,” he said. The corners of Tsukasa’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing. Although I was sure Dorian wasn’t trying to be patronizing, admittedly it did come off like that. An uncomfortable silence fell in my room. Isabelle cleared her throat after a few seconds.

“Well, uh, I’m sure our new transfer student has a lot of unpacking to do. We’ll call you in for dinner once Dorian’s done with it,” Isabelle announced.

“Yeah, I should get started on dinner. You’re welcome to join us, Tsukasa,” Dorian said.

“Thank you, but I’m full from the cupcake,” Tsukasa said politely.

“Oh well. I guess more for us,” Aika shrugged. She followed after Dorian, the two leaving the room. Isabelle gave me a little wave before heading out. Tsukasa just looked after them, shoulders slumping a bit. I gently grabbed his shoulder.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine,” he replied. Again, another smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Um, I’ll leave you be. You’ve probably got a lot of work to do.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess so…” It’s not like I could beg him to stay and he was right: I had a lot of stuff to unpack.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“Yeah! See you later.” Tsukasa nodded and turned around, leaving my dorm room. Well, that certainly happened. I tried to push the argument from my mind as I started to unpack. Right now, I just needed to focus on my studies and becoming an official student. If there were arguments, I just needed to ignore them. Drama would only distract me. But the look of quiet anger on Tsukasa’s face wouldn’t leave my mind.

#tsukasa kuze #wizardess heart #wizardess heart fanroute #tsukasa kuze: kind spirit

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kimberly-spirits13 · 5 years ago

Text

Moroccan Outlaw

Pairing (Bart Allen x reader)

Synopsis: Living in the wilderness of Morocco by yourself after your parents were killed for witch craft, you fight to survive with everything that you have learned of magic and the myth that now surrounds your name. You think that your life will never change of this endless cycle until one day, a certain team comes to your dwelling to investigate strange news of something powerful lurking in the forest. That is when your life changes forever.

Warnings: None

You had never considered yourself a threat to anyone or anything that wasn’t a threat to you. You nor your parents had ever meant anyone any harm, however the world is a cruel one and doesn’t take lightly to things that it does not understand or take the time to adapt to. At the age of 7, your parents were taken and burned after being found out they were practitioners of witchcraft and magic. They had both come from a long line of magic users and taught you everything that they knew, including the combat that your father had picked up while serving in the army during his time. The only thing that you had of them now was a few books of magic, a few charms, and faint memories that haunted your dreams at night.

The town considered you a myth, a legend, and even an outlaw. At just the age of 8, you had learned what it took to survive in these rare conditions and kept to yourself, avoiding people at almost all costs. Tonight, was a full moon. This was the most significant time of the lunar phases because it was when the most powerful book of spells that your parents had left you gained even more spells and charms to use. You had opted to stay in your house and practice the spells that you would be gifted. Well, if it could even be considered a house. The place that you lived was like a three- story tree house over a wide stream. It was in a smaller clearing but still high enough up that no passerby would see it. There you and your panther, Onyx would live out your lives.

It was a normal day waiting for the spells and nothing in the world was happening to your knowledge outside of the usual mess of things. Well, at least that it what you thought.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Team, there has been a sudden disturbance in a sector of the forests of Morocco. It is thought to be magic with the level of power and magnitude that it emitted, however we cannot know for sure.” Nightwing informed the team, “We need to find out who or what this is and see who’s side it’s on.”

The only ones who weren’t on a mission right now was Nightwing, Blue Beatle, Impulse, Beast Boy, and Robin. Everyone else was either off or on mission assigned earlier. They got into the ship and headed off to Morocco to investigate whatever was going on.

_______________________________________________________________________

You settled in on your cot next to Onyx and watched as the sun started to set. Everything was going as planned. You had your herbal tea next to you and your spell book in your lap just like all the nights before. Everything was calm and peaceful until the magic sensors that you had put around your dwelling picked on a low flying craft. Onyx’s ears pricked up as you listened closely.

Hearing it get closer and then the sound stopping made you go on high alert. You walked to your table and summoned a looking spell to see what on Earth was going on. You saw nothing at first, but upon further investigation, you found that the ship was shielded with invisibility tech.

“Interesting.” You thought, “Tell me who these people are.” You said after seeing a few figured jumping out.

“Heroes?” You thought aloud, “I wonder what they’re doing here.” “Onyx, it’s time to go for a hunt.”

Onyx’s ears pricked up and he stood, walking to your side. Sliding on your combat boots and gloves, you stepped out of the shelter and traveled by the trees to where the ship was, not too far away. You observed them from a distance, sticking to the shadows and staying out of site along with your panther who was circling the group.

“Nightwing, I feel like we’re being watched.” The smaller one with a cape and jet -black hair said to who looked to be the oldest.

“I know what you mean.” Nightwing replied, “Just keep your guard up and...” He stopped dead in his tracks, “Impulse, don’t move a muscle.”

Everyone started at Impulse as he stopped, noticeably frightened at Nightwing’s command. They looked around until seeing a massive black cat staring at them from a small clearing like it was about to pounce. Then they all saw what Nightwing really was pointing out. A snake was coiled up in front of Impulse waiting for him to take a step closer. All of them were startled when you spoke up.

“Down Onyx.” You said in Arabic.

The panther went into a resting stance and didn’t pounce at the team but you on the other hand came into few after a few seconds of moving in the shadows.

You then stared at the snake, eyes gleaming red before it contracted and looked straight at her hissing. After a second it had been ripped apart and withered away with the wind.

“You know you really should be more careful hero.” Your magic swirled from your fingers before disappearing once more, “The floor of these jungles move with life.”

You jumped down to the ground, leaning on a massive boulder, “Who are you? Quickly, before I have Onyx sick you.”

“We’re part of the Justice League.” The leader with a blue and black suit and domino mask said, “I’m Nightwing, this is Robin, Impulse, Blue Beatle, and Beast Boy.”

“What is your business?” You demanded.

“We are here to investigate a surge of energy. Now I can assume that you were that energy surge. We’re here to take you somewhere where you’ll be safer and away from all of this.” He finished.

You smirked some at how hopeful he sounded. That was something that you had learned not to trust over the years. Hope was a delusion and something to pity for all who really relied on it.

“I’ll come. But only if you can catch me.” You smirked, lifting your index finger which started swirling with glittering red and purple smoke before your body was completely engulfed in it and you reappeared in the tree tops.

“Base.” You said to Onyx before starting off away from where the team was.

“Catch her.” Nightwing said as they all started to go after her in preassigned teams.

After some time of losing the team, you stopped on a branch and rested for a second.

“Watcha doin up there?” You heard from below. You smiled some when you saw Impulse.

“Becoming quite bored of this endeavor.” You said.

“Well then, allow me to entertain you malady.” He darted up the tree fast enough to not give you time to react, “Gotcha.” He smirked grabbing you.

“Please, can’t a girl play hard to get?” You said before disappearing once more, “Over here lover boy.” You waved from a different tree.

“Impulse, Y/N is a witch, take her to the starting point and we’ll give her a dose of some white light.” Nightwing said into the comm before Impulse was about to take off after her again.

“Got it wing.” He replied.

Impulse chased you to the starting point before you noticed what was happening. You went to turn around before Blue Beetle shot a beam of white light at you. With somewhat of a mix of a screech and scream, you fell off the branch that you were on and plummeted to the forest floor.

“I got her!” Impulse said going for you.

After a few seconds, you regained your senses and looked around before meeting his gaze. Rubbing your temples you spoke up, “Thank you.” You got out of his arms and brushed yourself off.

“No problem beautiful.” He said smiling at you as he got a good look at your figure.

Your skin glimmered in the moon light, contrasting against the dark red and black costume. Your now purple and gold eyes shinned in the moon light as you swept your hair out of your face.

“I don’t even know you name.” You said feeling weird that this random costumed person would just chase you down only to save you.

“Oh, I’m Bart, Bart Allen. That is presuming you’re coming with us.” He said.

“Y/N, Y/L/N.” You replied putting your hand out for what you thought would be shaking hands. Instead he took yours and kissed the top of it like he was trying to either be a gentleman or funny. You couldn’t decide which one it was.

“So, you’re coming with us?” Nightwing asked.

“Yes, well, that is as long as I can grab my panther and my books.” You said, “Trust me, it won’t be long.”

He nodded and you chanted a spell before the entire contents of your home was in a small box and your panther walked up next to you. He wasn’t that big and would never get that big which is why your parents wanted you to have him.

You sat next to Impulse and watched the forest fade out of view. Your home was now a tiny speck in the great big world, and you figured that you’d never see it again whether you wanted to or not.

“Have you ever been outside of your home?” Impulse asked you noticing the weary look on your face.

You shook your head, “Never.” “My parents always hid me away in fear that I would also be... well, executed with them if we were ever caught with magic.”

“I’m sorry.” He said giving a sympathetic look at taking your hand, “You’ll like it at the cave, trust me.”

“I’m sure I will.” You said as Onyx laid his head on your lap.

______________________________________________________________________________

*Narrator voice* A few months later

“Hey babe.” Bart said kissing your cheek.

“You missed Speedster.” You said before he pulled you into an actual kiss.

“Watcha reading?” He asked laying his head on your shoulder.

“Spell book, tonight’s a full moon so it got new spells a few minutes ago.” You answered.

“Could we cuddle?” He asked you.

“Will you still let me read?” You asked.

“Mhmm.” He answered.

“Okay.” You picked up your book and the both of you walked to your bedroom with Onyx who was tailing you.

The both of you curled up on your bed while Onyx jumped to the foot of it and laid down. Wrapping into the blankets, Bart laid his head on your thy and rubbed circles on your hips.

“I love you.” You said.

“I love you too Y/N/N.”

#bart allen x reader #young justice x reader #dc x reader #impulse x reader #bart allen #impulse #writers of tumblr #fan fic stuff #fan fic

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listless-brainrot · 4 years ago

Text

expanding on a jet/haru dynamic

just hear me out on this okay. give me a CHANCE fellas

i kind of ramble down below but i think they simply both deserve it

(and thank you @the-hot-zone for spurring me on to write this!)

so jet and haru are two of my top faves from atla and i think they’d get along really well and this isn’t just me having hopeful wishes (for once), and i think that it’s high time that i talk about why i think they’d be good friends

for one, let’s start with jet- leader of the freedom fighters, is an orphaned child of war, takes in orphaned war children, is driven by his hatred and trauma from the fire nation to do what’s right, is pushed to extremes in his want to defeat the fire nation, gets called out by the gaang, and leaves for ba sing se to atone. he’s definitely a complex character with a lot of depth to explore, which is surprising coming from a side character.

while he may not have as much screentime as jet, let’s move onto haru, who, if you think about it, also has a surprising amount of depth- his father is the leader of the village (later on, assumedly, the leader of the earth kingdom rebellions), was forced to hide his bending for five years, still practiced bending despite the dangers it presented, often voiced his anger about the fire nation and is implied to have rebelled a little, is an extremely empathetic and strong-willed person, and is shown to be the first to run to action when needed.

with these factors in mind, let’s talk about their similarities!

both haru and jet are leaders in different ways- jet is the literal leader of the freedom fighters, and haru is forced to take up the role of man of the house when his father is taken. we can see that jet seems to be a natural leader, however, we also have to remember that a large majority of his kids are, well, kids, and he was probably forced into a leadership role due to age (the wiki says he’s sixteen, i say he’s seventeen, same with haru). this leadership role can also be extended to a sort of parental role as well- again, jet takes in orphaned children, and is an orphan himself, and haru, though he’s an only child, still has to fill in the shoes of his father by helping his mom run the family shop. there’s also an implication that he’d have to carry on tyro’s legacy, again, with tyro being the leader of the village, but this is largely speculation.

they’re also both directly affected by the fire nation- the rough rhinos murder jet’s parents and burn down his village at a young age, giving him horrible trauma that continues to drive his actions, and the fire nation takes over haru’s village, outlawing earthbending and taking away his dad and every other earthbender, and, later, haru himself. both of them use this shared trauma to connect with katara, who they’ve both interacted personally with. i’ll bring up this shared interaction later. however, despite this trauma, both of them are still good people. in the case of jet, it gets a little more grey- he does horrible, misguided things, however, his causes are still ultimately “good”; right now, the fire nation is the only bad he’s up against, not just for himself, but for everyone he’s taken in and is protecting. in the case of haru, he’s shown to be made embittered, lonely, and even depressed, but he still vouches for the gaang later on, probably convincing his mom to let them stay and opening up to katara. later on, when he’s arrested, he’s the first to attack the warden, and has been shown previously that he’s extremely willing to fight for what’s right, their freedom in this case- his dad just stops him most of the time.

lastly, they’re both self-reliant outcasts. jet is a self-proclaimed one, as shown by his interaction with zuko, which is sad in retrospect- for someone who practically made his own family, admitting that he doesn’t feel like a part of it/doesn’t fully trust it feels really disheartening. he’s shown to go off on his own with less and less supporters, and, by the time smellerbee and longshot leave for rather understandable reasons, he’s relying on nothing but his instincts and himself. this isn’t anything new, as jet had to have relied on himself from the ripe old age of eight, when his village was burned. haru is an outcast in a different, yet extremely similar sense- he was made to be an outcast. he’s an earthbender in a fire nation occupied town, with no other earthbenders around- his own mother calls his bending dangerous and tells him to not use it, again, for understandable reasons. however, despite this, haru still practices, honing in his skills- another similarity he shares with jet, with both of them being entirely self-taught in their respective skillsets. haru’s skillset is his earthbending, which he adopts into his own entirely unique style, which appears to be a mix of earthbending and firebending techniques, which makes sense, as, with no earthbenders around, firebending soldiers would have to be his next best bet. jet’s skillset is his hookswords, or twin hooks, which we don’t see any other character use in atla use and/or teach, so we can easily assume that he taught himself, which is extremely impressive when paired with the fact that he not only uses them to fight, but also uses them to get around, swinging through the trees with them.

now, let’s talk about some conflicts.

haru, unlike jet, still has both his parents and a village to go back to- a luxury that even most of the main characters don’t have. while you could argue that jet does have a family, as he made his own family in the form of the freedom fighters and all the kids he took in, he still lacks biological family, as well as people he doesn’t feel entirely obligated to protect. both of them lack friends; haru’s, most likely, got killed or taken away, and while he is friends with the freedom fighters and everyone else, jet still carries the title of leader even outside of the forest, therefore making his relationship to the freedom fighters a little less personal, as well as they may know him. they’re both a little lonely in that regard, actually- and somehow, in the paragraph about conflicts, i started talking about similarities again, so let me get back on track.

jet is an active rebel leader, with his own coup and home base, attacking fire nation encampments and taking in orphans. haru is not, at least, we don’t really see him or hear him state that he’s a part of anything, which is entirely understandable given his situation. it makes sense that he wouldn’t be a part of a secret underground rebellion, especially if he doesn’t even know who to trust with people like him taken away from him. however, despite this, we know that he has a strong rebellious streak and a drive to do what’s right- he rightfully calls the fire nation soldiers thugs and thieves, is the first to run and help the old man, as well as, again, instigate the prison break. in the first and third of these situations, it’s his parents that are holding him back- in the second, it’s a little harder, but, ultimately, he’s still inspired to do the right thing, he just needed a little reassurance from katara. a large part of his idolization of his father is also shown to come from his admiration in still fighting while outnumbered, even if they did all get taken away in the end. case in point, this, paired with admiration of his father’s and katara’s rebellious actions, it would make sense, then, that he would probably view jet in the same light, and, perhaps, even wish that he’d be brave enough to do what jet is doing- being an active rebel making an impact, rather than his greatest rebellion being still in the village as an earthbender.

finally, jet doesn’t have a proper support system, while haru does, sort of. jet has an echo chamber- given his situation, his hatred of the fire nation makes sense when you realize that he’s surrounded by people who have been nothing but hurt by the fire nation. of course hearing stories of being hurt over and over would do something to him, and make him fail to distinguish individuality in favor of just attacking everything fire nation. you could argue that his friends at least tried to show him that he was wrong in ba sing se, however, he was most definitely going through an episode, which, of course, would cloud his judgement heavily, and, again, they are still a part of that echo chamber. haru, meanwhile, at least still has his mom, though she’s shown to not be the greatest in terms of sticking it to the fire nation, instead, remaining complacent and still paying the soldiers that just threatened to burn down her shop. not saying she shouldn’t have, and should’ve faced the consequences- just saying there’s probably a reason why haru admires and talks so much about his dad compared to his mom, who doesn’t even have a name. haru, at least, has someone to reference for what’s right- a parental figure. jet lacks this, as, instead, he is the parental figure- a large majority of his personality appears to be the way that it is because he has so many people looking up to him, and he knows this, quite possibly emulating and coming off as “cool and collected” because of it, rather than him doing it on purpose.

to conclude, if these two interacted, they would have a surprising amount of commonality, as well as interesting differences to explore, and i think that it’s fun to think about them interacting some time between jet’s episode and him leaving for ba sing se. after all, their respective places of living are rather close on the map; they definitely could’ve met. plus, i think that someone like haru would be good for jet- he needs someone outside of his echo chamber that knows how to protect themselves so he can really see them as a friend, rather than just an ally, and haru has been shown to be one to give many chances and lend a listening ear if someone really needs it. imagine how cool it would be to see them fighting together, using their own self-taught fighting styles to hold off fire nation soldiers! i think it’d be really neat.

also they could bond over knowing katara and their split interpretations of her; every time katara sees haru again, she runs in for a hug, while jet nearly gets killed on sight by her in ba sing se lmao

#long post #like really long post #jet #jet atla #atla jet #haru #haru atla #atla haru #haru/jet #jetru #ship or friendship i just really like to think about their dynamic okay #character analysis #atla meta #meta #original #harujet

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wincestreversebang · 4 years ago

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Master Post for 2020

That is a wrap, folks! Here is the Master Post for 2020!!! Title: I Never Knew Artist: ncdover1285 Author: midnightsilver Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: drinking Summary: How can you know a person better than you know yourself but never know this? A drunken realization with a little help from a friend. (aka: ‘of course you two love each other, shut up and kiss already’) Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Untouchable for Life Artist: angeltortured Author: sintari Other Pairing(if applicable): Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore, briefly mentioned Dean Winchester/OFC Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Sex Work, Angst (see more at AO3), Jess Positive Summary: When Stanford student Sam is desperate for rent money, his girlfriend Jess suggests he turn to camming. As his uneasy relationship with sex work progresses, Sam's "Top Fan," the lurker Impala67, leaves him conflicted.... and something else. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Call of the Wolf Artist: tx_devilorangel Author: ncdover1285 Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: Something is terrorizing a small town in South Dakota. Sets of siblings seem to disappear into the woods and never be seen again. What is being seen is a huge wolf that is lurking in the woods. Sam and Dean go to investigate. Will they figure out what is happening in this small town, or will they be another set of siblings that simply disappear? Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: a sad fact of modern life Artist: emmatheslayer Author: thelegendofwinchester Rating: G Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: The boys make a YouTube channel with the intention to easily be able to spread knowledge to new hunters and help them out. It goes downhill within minutes, but that’s not always a bad thing. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Cock Tails Artist: ncdover1285 Author: angeltortured Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: drunk sex Summary: Sam gets drunk off of phallic-shaped drinks at a gay bar. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Strap Your Hands 'Cross my Engines (Don't Mind Me, You Usually Don't) Artist: midnightsilver Author: nevergettingoverwincest Other Pairing(if applicable): Sam/Dean/Impala Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: “Hold your horses,” the witch called when Dean pounded on her door. Sam and Baby were behind him, Baby craning her neck to look in one of the cottage’s windows. The door scraped open and the witch poked her head out. “Back already? Who’s this?” she added, looking at Baby. “This is my car,” Dean said, flatly. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Darkness And Light Artist: shealynn88 Author: ncdover1285 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Incest, M/M Summary: Sam and Dean are cursed and they are sent on separate journeys to figure out how to break the curse. Finding out that they may just get exactly what they have been longing for is definitely a bonus. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Burn for You Artist: darklittleheart96 Author: storyspinner70 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Dom/sub, Alpha Dean, Alpha Sam, Unusual ABO Dynamics, Possessive Dean Winchester, Dom Dean Winchester, Sub Sam Winchester, Bondage, Top Dean, Bottom Sam Summary: No one was surprised when both Winchester boys became alphas. The surprise came when Sam figured out that, while he might be happy to be an alpha, the only place eh really wanted to be was on his knees for his brother. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Trust Me Artist: ncdover1285 Author: amypond45 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Time travel, Humor, angst, Sam POV Summary: Stanford Sam travels back in time to the week after he left for college to show Dean how much he loves him. Art: Tumblr Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Spellbound Artist: tx_devilorangel Author: theydraggedmeinowianintleaving Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Canon Compliant, Up til season 3, not entirely canon compliant though, Dean Winchester Dies, Dean Winchester is saved from Hell, No Apocalypse, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), the angels are good guys, or at least neutral, Jealous Sam Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester Friendship, endgame wincest, Dean's crossroads deal, John Winchester Dies, implied wet dreams, Canon-Typical Violence, Sam Winchester Dies, but only for ten seconds, implied soulmates Summary: Sam had always known they were outsiders; hadn’t needed the oh so helpful input from any Harry, Dick or Jane to realize as much when tv had already told him. Or maybe he hadn’t always known; had once been young (and perhaps innocent) enough to not know any better. However, he’d learned; from blurry images on tiny tv-screens whenever their dad found it necessary to rent a motel room for the three of them. On the screen everybody lived in houses rather than an old car driving from one end of the country and then back again over and over and over. Kids didn’t know how to use a gun – Sam might not yet be the marksman his brother was, but he knew how to use every single one in their dad’s arsenal; which was another thing the people on tv didn’t have: a goddamn arsenal of weapons. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: The Human Trap Artist: bluefire986 Author: storyspinner70 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Biker Dean and Sam, Violence, Aftermath of torture, Hurt Dean, Protective Sam, Revenge Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester were new to being the power behind The Knights of Hell biker gang, but they weren't new to the violence and pain that went along with it. They were working for a better future, but that was going to take muscle and brain and a lot of blood. Nothing worthwhile ever changed in a single day, but when Dean doesn't come back from a simple gun drop, The Knights worry that nothing will ever be the same again. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: There Will Be Peace When You Are Done/I'll Come Back To You Artist: angeltortured Author: specialgentrin Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: Major Character Death, Season 15 AU Summary: This is it. The final battle against Chuck Shurley. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: No Retreat, No Surrender Artist: bluefire986 Author: smalltrolven Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: After everything with Chuck is over, Sam and Dean move up to Rufus’ cabin in Montana, to finally retire. After the hunting life they’ve led, they know there’s plenty of people and monsters left out there that have a score to settle. All the monsters forgotten, memories avoided and choices made in the past make what happens next even worse. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Box Up My Heart Artist: txdora Author: levisqueaks Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: Moving in with Sam had been perfect. They were living the life at Stanford with the world and their futures spread before them for the taking. But sometimes Sam was swallowed up in pain, whiskey, and knives instead of sweet dreams. One day Jessica stumbles across a secret Sam had been hiding for years and the darkness that takes over him begins to make sense. Especially when they get an unexpected late-night visitor and she witnesses a secret kiss. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: A Little Sugar Artist: emberthrace Author: hit_the_books Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Season 2, Recreational Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content (see story for full tags) Summary: People are dying bloodily in Red Bluff, California, and no one knows how. The only leads? A strange substance that may or may not be a narcotic and hints of sulfur, and the rumor that a local outlaw motorcycle gang may be involved. Heading out to Northern California on the hunt, Dean and Sam are going to discover feelings they've been hiding from each other for a long time. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Payphone Symphony Artist: emmatheslayer Author: levisqueaks Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Barely Legal, Wincest, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Older Sam Winchester, Younger Dean Winchester, Pining, Deception, Phone Sex, Dirty Talk, Sam Winchester is basically Dean’s Dad, Mechanic!Dean, Age Difference, Phone Sex Operator Summary: Sam Winchester never claimed to be a righteous man but he hoped that his good deeds could someday outweigh the sin in his heart. After all, what 35 year old man, who practically raised their younger brother fell in love with them? Sam finds a mysterious bill that sets off alarms. But when he overhears Dean greeting a caller using a known sex phone company’s name, Sam is tossed into a whirling sea of intrigue, deception, and longing. Can Sam redeem himself? Or will becoming Dean’s most loyal customer only drag him closer to hell? Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Under a Blue Moon Artist: emberthrace Author: amypond45 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: dubcon Summary: While hunting a lycanthrope, Dean gets bit. Sam figures out a cure, but he knows Dean won’t like it. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Spinning On That Dizzy Edge Artist: angeltortured Author: ratflavored Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Rough Oral Summary: Sam’s tearing himself apart to finish the trials, so Dean forces them to have a night to relax in what he considers the bunker. But there's things going on behind Sam's poker face that Dean can't quite figure out. Most of the time, Dean can let that sort of thing slide, but when he's loose with whiskey and mulling over memories, it's a lot harder. What does Sam want from him? Booze, memories, and cards make for a dangerous combo. Art: Twitter Story: Ao3 Title: Titans Remembered Artist: midnightsilver Author: klove0511 Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: Brief, non-graphic attempted bestiality; referenced animal sacrifice, hurt Dean Summary: Following a string of missing people and livestock mutilations, Sam and Dean stumble on a case where the monster has a personal beef with them. When Dean gets himself in trouble trying to do everything himself, Sam must come to the rescue and remind him that they're better as a team. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 | Tumblr Title: Wish Not Change Artist: kelios Author: smalltrolven Rating: R Warnings/Spoilers: spoilers for season 15 Summary: There’s a picture that Dean has in his wallet. It’s of the two of them, even though it’s not really them, but it’s still the stuff that wishes are made of. It takes a journey to New Orleans and back, a new case opened and closed, and wishes made and granted, for that wish to maybe come true. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Free Bird Artist: darklittleheart96 Author: merenwen76 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: ExSlave!Dean, Hunter!Sam, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non, NSFW Art Summary: Written for the following prompt: Non-brothers AU, Sam (35 or older) is one of the best hunter, whose whole life has changed the day he rescued terrified and abused slave named Dean, who within the law is now Sam's slave... Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: The Boy Who Would be King Artist: sarasaurussex Author: annie46 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: NSFW art, character death Summary: Without a soul Sam can be what he was always meant to be - King of Hell. He doesn't need Dean, or does he? Dean only wants to save Sam, or does he actually want more? Art: Tumblr Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: What Doesn’t Kill You Makes Us Stronger Artist: shealynn88 Author: ncdover1285 Other Pairing(if applicable): Dean Winchester/ others (mentioned), Sam Winchester/ Others (mentioned) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Dark, M/M, Unknown Incest, Dark Winchesters Summary: Sam and Dean grew up in different ways, but seem to have quite a bit in common. Both finding their way to a life of killing and lies. It’s almost as if something is keeping one from killing the other though when they take the other as a mark. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Moral Insanity Artist: midnightsilver Author: levisqueaks Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Crack, This Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Cowboy Sam Winchester, The Boys Film a Porno Summary: When Dean got down to it, this was all Sammy’s fault. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but when Sam convinces Dean they should make money by filming porn rather than credit card scams, the brothers end up a little too close to the fire. Why did he feel like he was walking to the gallows? He loved porn. He was a fine curator of porn. Had been since his first skin mag at 13. So why was the thought of being behind the camera so nerve wracking? Once Dean’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness beyond the wall separating them from the storefront he found the director circling Sam. Like a shark. This guy was a shark. Or maybe a vampire? He was some sort of deadly with teeth that wanted to eat his kid brother alive. What the hell had they gotten themselves in to? Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: The Hawk and the Wolf Artist: kelios Author: fledhyris Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: Two brothers, cursed for loving one another a little too closely, wander as knights errant, together yet forever apart. Their luck turns when Dean encounters a young thief, Garth, running from Winchester Cathedral with a stolen book. They have just one chance to meet the conditions for the spell to be lifted; will they win their hearts’ desire or be doomed to live out the rest of their lives under a cruel enchantment? Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: stumbling over universes Artist: kuwlshadow Author: embersdevine Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: Some sexual content Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves in another world. Again. But someone finds them and it sort of changes everything. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Titanium (With You On the Edge of Every Tomorrow) Artist: darklittleheart Author: abeautifullie3 Other Pairing(if applicable): (all minor or passing mentions) Charlie/Eileen. Jody/Donna. Cesar/Jesse. OFC/OMC. Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: (full list at author’s LJ or AO3, here be the biggies) Spoilers through entire aired series…just to be safe. Semi-AU. Canon Divergence. A/B/O. Mpreg. Alpha!Dean. Alpha-to-Omega!Sam. A Few Instances of Gore. Graphic OC Deaths. Death of Not-A-Fucking-Lead Character. Graphic Deaths of Minors (not Sam and Dean's). Show Level Violence. Profanity. Graphic Sex. BDSM: A Bit of B…With Some D&S…No S&M. Pregnancy!Kink. Lactation!Kink. Pregnant!Sex. To Be Safe: Graphic Births. Kid!fic. Kinda-sorta Curtain!Fic. Kinda-sorta Fix-It!Fic. Angst. A Bit of Schmoop To Sooth. Summary: All the sigils, all the wards. All the hoodoo and white magic. All of the mystical safeguards they had in place, and yet there was one thing none of it could protect them from... Humans. Against the odds, Dean and Sam have built a life together aside from Hunting. With the help of a curse-turned-gift, they’ve even made their own family. Now, Sam eight months pregnant with his and Dean’s daughter, it’s all being threatened when Dean and their five-year-old son, Jameson, are abducted. It's perfectly executed. As if the kidnapper knows personal details about Sam and Dean's lives. Has knowledge – and access – to the bunker. Has been to their home. It's because she does and has. She's been training with them for over two years. Moved up in the ranks to both helper and friend. Hell, she's watched after Jameson for them. She's been biding her time. Now it’s Dean’s turn to bide his time, take care of his son as best he can while being held prisoner, keep them alive until Sam can rescue them. Which, if there is anything Dean knows for sure…Sam will save them. The weeks passing, stress taking its toll on Sam’s heavily pregnant body, with what little Sam and his people have to go on, what they’ve been able to piece together, he knows it’s up to him to find and rescue his brother and son from a sadistic psychopath who may be right in their midst. Semi-AU from season 6 finale. Some canon stuffs after that still happened. A helluva bunch didn’t…or played out differently. No time for significant “world building”, and not a primary focus, but this is A/B/O. Art: Tumblr Story: Live Journal | Ao3

#wincest reverse bang #wincest reverse bang 2020 #master post #master post 2020

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morganaofcamelot · 4 years ago

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If Wishes Came True (Chapter 3)

Title: If Wishes Came True Chapter III: Killer on the Loose Pt.I

Fandom: BBC Robin Hood

Ships: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character, Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton, Original Female Character/Original Male Character

Definately an AU - Sir Guy of Gisborne has served the current Sheriff of Nottingham for five years prior to the beginning of the first season, and is considered a part of the family, both by Vaisey and his daughter Valerie. The chapters are from Val’s POV, as she struggles to maintain her youthful innocence in a place that’s all too willing to steal it away from her, and navigate the intrigues of her father. [Many changes from the show, although the fic loosely follows season 1]

Important Note: English is not my first language, so I’d appreciate if you can point out any mistakes I make.

On AO3

Tumblr: Ch I, Ch II

Sir Guy found her standing against a wall, her hands folded in the most unladylike manner, her gaze far away. He crossed the courtyard with swift paces. It was too late, when she realized that he was walking towards her. “Valerie,” he said. “I’ve heard about what happened, are you alright? He did not hurt you?” his voice betrayed his concern. She sighed.

“Welcome back, Guy.” She said and turned to leave. Sir Guy was quick to grab her arm, not entirely ungently. His eyes shone with a strong emotion; anger, she thought. But is it directed at me?

“What happened?” he insisted.

Valerie recounted the last night’s events and the threat Huntington had posed both to her and her father. She fought the tears bravely, and they did not come. She spared a glance at his face; Sir Guy’s fury was palpable.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands on her shoulders. “I wasn’t there to protect you.” Come hell or high water, I will stand beside you and protect you until I draw my last breath. The vow he had made her years ago came to her mind. She had been a girl of only eleven, and he had been a man of five-and-twenty, recently anointed a knight, and recently brought into her father’s household. His black hair had been longer, then and he had let her brush them. Her father quickly took a liking to him, and Sir Guy returned it with much enthusiasm. Half a year later, he was a member of their family; the son Vaisey always wanted, and the big brother Valerie always wished for. “You are a sister to me.”

Valerie’s smile was bittersweet. “I know.” I wish you wouldn’t say it. Quickly changing the subject, before she said or did something she would later regret, she told him of another incident.

“I had an argument with the sheriff,” she said. Sir Guy raised an eyebrow.

“The sheriff?” he said, noting the spite in her tone. “It mustn’t have gone well, then. Tell me, maybe I can help.”

She smiled half-heartedly. “You are right on that front. I asked him to let me train with a sword, if only to protect myself. That man,” she said pointedly, “Would have killed us in a heartbeat. You of all people know, father isn’t as good with a sword as he once was. Age has taken its toll on him.”

“And he refused?” Sir Guy deducted. She only nodded in affirmation. “Sword fighting is better left to the men.”

Valerie sighed in exasperation. “But none of the men could stop Huntingdon!” She shivered as she was reminded of the cold-hearted glow in the man’s eyes. Sir Guy noticed and tried to soothe her.

“I could teach you a few things,” he finally said. Valerie looked up at him; he had that half-smile on his face, that she always associated with him. He means it.

Forgetting all sense of propriety, and the fact that she wasn’t actually related with the black-clad knight, Valerie hugged him tightly. She was tall, for a woman, but he was a giant; the top of her head barely touched his chin. He returned the embrace.

“But,” he said in a low whisper, “it has to be a secret.”

Letting go, Valerie promised him that she would tell nobody about this.

“Very well. I’ll meet you at the stables, when the bell strikes four times.”

***

She brimmed with an excitement for the rest of the day, barely containing herself from laughing out loud and raise the suspicions of her father. Oh, but he’ll be furious if he ever learnt of our arrangement, she thought with glee. Nothing could make her come down from the clouds right then.

True to his word, Sir Guy was at the stables when the bell signaled that four hours had passed since noon. The previous excitement in her, had now turned into a nervous reaction, when she realized that she was going to spend time with him, all alone.

“Are you ready for it?” He asked, offering a gloved hand.

She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said, taking it. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He led me in the far back, where the old stables used to be, now empty of people and horses.

He picked a short sword from a rack on the far wall, its blade dull and unthreatening. He handed it to me, and took a normal sized one for himself. “Now, stance is the most important thing. You learn to stand correctly, and you learn to defend yourself. He walked behind her and arranged her feet with his own. “You’re wearing breeches. Smart.” She couldn’t see him, but she was sure he was smiling. Her heartbeat quickened.

Satisfied with her lower body, Guy swiftly moved to correct her upper half. “This way,” he murmured with every little change he made. His breath was on the top of her head, sending involuntary tingles throughout the rest of her body. “Good.” He said at last, and moved to stand beside her.

He proceeded with demonstrating a basic defensive move, and made her copy it again and again, on her own. After some time – Valerie couldn’t tell whether it’s been a moment or a day since they began – Guy was on the offensive. He attacked her and she parried his blows, gaining more confidence with each blow she managed to block. He picked up the pace, and she quickly read into his intention, using the sword as an extension of her arm.

The bell rang. One, two, three, four, five times.

Sir Guy lowered his sword. “That’s enough for one day.” He said, placing the blunt blade on the rack. “You might feel your arms sore and heavy for a few days. Do not worry about it, it’ll be your muscles complaining for the sudden exertion.”

Valerie placed her short sword next to his. “I feel fine.” She said, dismissively. “When will we train again? Oh, and how did I do?”

The knight gave a half-smile. “If you keep learning so fast, I’ll have you replace the Captain of the Guard in a year.” It sounded like teasing, but she did do well on her first day. “We’ll reconvene on Monday, same hour.”

In three days. Valerie was over the moon.

“Run along, now.” He said, and Valerie rushed to do as she was bid, her heart beating wildly.

***

Sir Guy had kept his word; every three or four days he would meet her at the old stable for an hour of sword practice. And so the Spring Equinox had come and gone by with April on the heels, bringing bluer skies and happier attitudes. There had been no news of Robin Hood, as the men had taken to call him, now that he wasn’t the Earl of Huntingdon anymore. Sir Guy was given the title with little ceremony, and had welcomed them for a feast in his newly acquired manor. Valerie had never seen her father look more proud when he thought nobody was looking. It made her smile.

On the ninth day of April, however, things took a turn for the worse; a bailiff had been struck by an arrow in the village of Nettlestone. The lords of the shire had been called to a meeting in the castle. Valerie attended it, seated by her father’s side. Lady Marian was also attending it, standing by her own father, and Valerie watched her closely; she carried no hidden blade in her hair at this time, although she couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

“The villagers of Nettlestone have reported that the outlaw commonly known as Robin Hood had murdered Joderick, the bailiff.” Her father’s voice was low and calm. The lords were shocked and it showed in various degrees. “Well, this is a shocking matter, isn’t it? Even his beloved villagers lose their patience when their heroes start picking them off. What else was in that report, Sir Guy?”

Sir Guy’s voice was lower still. Valerie knew that he had worked with Joderick for a long time, back when the knight served as a tax collector. She had heard him speak fondly of him many a time. “They’re saying that Hood promised that he would prevent the eviction.”

The sheriff shook his head. “War had addled his brain, I’m not at all surprised. But I didn’t have him capable of murder. Maybe his current status as an outlaw have drove him mad.” He made a pause. Valerie recalled the night that man barged into the hall, thirsty for her father’s blood. The sheriff had told him that he thought him incapable for murder, back then. She begged to differ. “What do you propose?”

Sir Guy was the first to offer a solution – he was the sheriff’s man-at-arms and his enforcer. “I suggest we round all those who are helping Hood by not informing us about his whereabouts. He would have been caught by now, if not for their help.”

To Valerie’s surprise, Lady Marian spoke up, despite her father’s attempts to tell her to stop. “And have this practices ever worked before? Those villagers reported the crime, seeking justice.” Marian looked at the sheriff and Sir Guy interchangeably. But if Valerie was impressed by her bold statement, her father’s answer left her wondering if something had him possessed.

“I agree with you, lady Marian. This is not the correct way to go about this. Sir Marcus, do you have any suggestions?” Her father turned to the man standing a little further on Valerie’s right side. He was the Master-at-Arms, the man who took care of the castle’s security and the guards’ training.

The man cleared his throat, and spoke with absolute conviction. “This gives us a political advantage, my lord. Have every town crier announce what’s taken place at the village, make sure everybody knows that an innocent was killed.”

The sheriff nodded in agreement. “Ah, yes. He has given us the high ground; we should keep it. I like this idea. See to it.” Sir Marcus nodded. “Do not be fearful my lords, the culprit will be caught! Dismissed.”

Valerie stood up and followed her father. Sir Guy did, too, to whisper in the sheriff’s ear. “My lord, I still believe in actions rather than words. If I had the resources, I could hunt him down.”

Valerie kept her head down, feigning disinterest in their talk. “Very well,” her father said. “We shall do it both ways. But, be discreet about it.” His answer resulted in a smirk, and off Sir Guy went to put in motion the sheriff’s shadow operation.

Her father leaned to talk to her. “He likes some competition, this boy. I shall give it to him.”

Valerie’s smile did not touch her eyes. She just wished Sir Guy wouldn’t be hurt in the process.

***

The funeral of Joderick, the poor bailiff that was slain by Robin Hood, took place in the town’s square; lots of people had shown up to honor the man, nobles and peasants alike. Valerie stood beside Sir Guy, who was trying to look as impassive as possible. Valerie daren’t spoke to him, for she feared his grief went beyond words.

From her vantage point, she saw Marian sneak away through the gathered crowd, stealthily hiding behind a wall. Valerie made to move, to follow her, but she thought better of it and stopped. It wouldn’t do, to being seen leaving before her father ended his speech. She was a good girl. Lady Marian and her secrets can wait.

Later in the day, her suspicions of Lady Marian were all but forgotten. Valerie was informed by the steward that Sir Guy, before he went on his grand hunt, had requested that Marian stays in the castle, even though her father had decreed otherwise. Valerie gave her consent, and was intent on keeping a close watch on that woman.

After supper, her father worked on the documents, as Valerie read by the candlelight. A servant boy entered with a flagon and two goblets. The boy made the mistake of placing the plater on the wrong side, and the sheriff made his displeasure known by merely teasing the lad. He got up, and whispered something to him Valerie couldn’t hear, and then a whoosh.

“Argh” her father yelled. The boy was lying on the ground face-first, with an arrow protruding from his back. “Guards! Guards!” he yelled and walked over to her in panic. “It is Robin Hood!” he kept repeating.

Valerie was stunned. The poor boy! The guards barged in, with the Sir Marcus behind them. “My lord!” The knight took a look at the boy and paled.

#robin hood bbc #bbc robin hood #guy of gisborne #guy of gisborne x original female character #*mine

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