#i actually got a cowboy hat just recently so i’m gonna change into that

[fizzytoo]

FIT CHECK ‼️

[alovevigilante]

Me: Ok. I’ve made an executive decision on behalf of all of us...

Me also: are you an executive?

Me: yes.

Me also: at what company?

Me: ours. Yours and mine.

Me 3: and mine too!

Me: yes, at threes company, ok? Will you just listen to me? (The other me’s sit, silent) thank you. Now, we have all come to terms with the fact that we’re 46 and still not sure where the hell we fit in in society, let alone a career to help aid it, right?

Other me’s: yes, Agreed, (hub hub etc...)

Me: ok, good. Well, not good, but yes, we all concur. Now, we, collectively, are a fucking mess, so I propose this: we start from scratch. At zero point, ok? Ok! Great!

Me also: um, question?

Me: yes?

Me also: I don’t mean to be a contrarian or anything, but we’ve been here on earth now for 46 years, and we’ve experienced a butt ton. So, how do you just scrap it all, and have that be something that’s widely accepted by society as a whole?

Me 3: yeah! Cause I saw this one “I love Lucy” where she couldn’t even audition for a tv show without having some experience.

Me: yeah, but we’re completely walking away from the entertainment industry...

Me also: yeah, but what are we going to do? Walk into a different profession, let’s say, being an astrophysicist, and they say, “hey lady, where are your degrees and your on the job training, & oh, I see here on your non resume that you have never even taken a physics class. Were you in a coma for 50 years or something?” And then we’ll look like an asshole.

Me: good point. So, since we can’t start at a zero point, how do we make life ok from where we’re at if we’re feeling lost and confused about what to do next?

Me 3: I dunno.

Me also: well, maybe we can mediate.

Me: eh. You feel like that?

Me 3: not particularly. Me also?

Me also: I was hoping one of you would do it for me...

Me: no.

Me 3: no.

Me also: fine. Any other ideas?

Me: well... how about thinking about shit.

Me also: that’s what got us in this mess to begin with!

George Carlin: hello ladies! May I be of some assistance here?

Me 3: why not? We’re plum out of ideas...

George: ok, well, let’s simplify a bit, Kari, singular, let’s chat.

Kari: hey George.

George: love the pic you choose to rep me.

Kari: yeah. You’re being a lil Italian when you talk with the garlic clove shaped hand you got going there. 🤌 🧄 🇮🇹

George: Yeah. I’m diggin it. But you know, in your mind, I’m one of the reasons you’re here in this ass place.

Kari: you are? how do you figure?

George: people don’t like the fact that you write on behalf of the deceased.

Kari: well, Tim burton did it in beetle juice and a lot of folks love him..

George: ok Kari, can I be Frank... Sinatra-like with you?

Kari: I dunno, can you?

George: yeah. Just pretend I’m sporting a fedora, a cigarette in one hand, and throwing my jacket back over my shoulder with the other looking at you coyly.

Kari: ok... if you want to... but is the cigarette in his pocket? Cause if it’s lit, that shits gonna hurt his Netherlands eventually....

George: (like Sinatra) no. Now listen up, baby, it’s not normal to write on behalf of a dead person that was not a character, and that whom was once alive. People get touchy about it. We have friends still alive that knew us and probably don’t dig it.

Kari: I see.

George: so it seems like we’re at a crossroads here. What do you want to do about it?

Kari: do about what?

George: your writing! It’s freakin everyone out! Kari, look, you know how normal Hollywood is, ok? They are all normal, non creative, in the box gladly thinker kinda people...

Kari: they are?

George: yes!!! Come on, keillor, get with the program! You are too far fetched for these folks! They want normalcy, and sameness, and only all the shit that’s ever been shat!

Kari: George, are we talking about Hollywood California, here? Or Hollywood podunk nah? Because Hollywood California is where all the creatives go to create!

George: right! And guess what, Kari Keillor! You are not welcomed in Hollywood, California! They have a sign up with your picture on it at the airport that says, “beware! No to this woman! Too much with the weirdness! She writes dead people!”

Kari: I write live people too... hey, do I have a cowboy hat and a mustache on for my mugshot on that sign?

George: nice one Cookie Monster! Well, Keillor why not?! You may as well, because this story has as much validity as any other story you make up and make worse in your head cause you’re sensitive about of your writing...

Kari: you’re the one that said all that shit! You planted it in my head!!!

George: so I did, but remember, I’m a facet of you. So, decide. Is there any validity to what I/you said?

Kari: how the hell should I know?! I haven’t been in lax recently...

George: right! So you never know until you try talking to some people.

Kari: I’ll call the airport... Listen, George, I’ll be perfectly Frank Sinatra with you now, ok.?

Don rickles: no mere woman can be like ole blue eyes...

Kari: Shut your misogynistic, ass-kissing pie hole, Pickles.

Pickles rickles: oh fuck... she does it to me every time...

Frank Sinatra:, you tell him, baby!

Kari: I’m 46. (Back to George Carlin) Anyway, look George, I have had a few successful people from my entertainment past either shun or block me for no apparent reason, so I’m pretty sure that I’m not well received again, for whatever reason... probably because I wrote the truth about a second city class I took when I was 16, about the current state of snl which I am completely unfamiliar with because I do not watch it, and the way comedy has changed or not over the last many years. Come to think of it, maybe it was because I love frank oz, and frank was mad cause I wrote that belushi John was teasing him and calling him an asshole, another ironic statement because clearly frank oz, NOT an asshole, was many of the muppets for years, and Frank is one of my idols! (Not a true central religious figure to me, but someone I admire a lot...)

Frank Sinatra: who loves ya, baby??

Kari: (to Frank) kojak. (Back to herself) Or it could be because i called bill murray, the beloved patron saint of comedy, an asshole like me, yes, I said like ME, out of jest and irony, because yes, he cared about the kid in meatballs making friends, ok?! That’s probably it. & yes, i was kinda stoned when I wrote it, and also yes, I still can’t figure out why the movie was ducking named “meatballs”, cause there wasn’t an Italian to be seen in it! Ok?! And come to think of it bill as Peter venkman in ghostbusters 2, written in part, by him I think but let’s just say yes cause it supports my point, called all of New York City and it’s tri state area, all 3 million people, miserable assholes, and they took a head count, & they still (probably mostly) all love him! & that shit was good (I love that movie so much) and it was made in 1989, and that was a long ass time ago, ok? And some of those people, have procreated since then, and again, they all love bill Murray and now those “miserable asshole’s” kids, ALSO love Bill now! Double the miserable assholes! Why?! Because he’s funny, and much like me when I’m being tongue and cheek, he didn’t mean for people to take the shit he says seriously! See for yourself! https://youtu.be/t1gkRAWvxOs (1:15 on)

So yes!!! I just think people are not into that kind of talk from me and me alone, even though it wasn’t coming from a mean or spiteful place. It was coming from a place of love for my craft, and of both frank oz, and bill Murray. The rest, as I say once again... I dunno....

George: Kari, frank just told you he loves you, and you blatantly ignored him...

Kari: no, he asked who loved me. He didn’t say he loved me.

George: Keillor, stop being so mean to the dead crooners, ok?

Kari: pickles isn’t a crooner! He’s a ye olde well paid curmudgeon who made fun of everyone like a jerk fach.

George: um, Kari...

Kari: no, ok? No! The difference between me and pickles, besides everything under the sun other than the fact we’re both human, is the fact that I am pointing out the obvious hypocrisy of the way we are set up as society, and wanting to heal it within myself to make it a more palatable world for me and my family and friends and acquaintances to live in. And pickles thought making fun of people was ok. What royal lineage did pickles come from that he’s able to rip on everyone the way he did? And even if he was of a royal bloodline so fucking what?! And dude got paid to be mean! And normal people made him rich and famous! And how did that become prevalent, let alone celebrated in this world?! Roast em! Yes! Hilarious.

Dean Martin: oh noooo... hey, listen pally...

Kari: dean, don’t get me started, ok? Cause I like you, I really do, but you know how I feel about that shit... Listen, Dean, you left a legacy here that was mostly great, but in my opinion needs a lil tweaking. Instead of “roasts” which people do to this day, and I can’t see how it can make the honoree feel anything other than like major ass, we should have “toasts” (copyright Kari keillor 3/19/21 actually before this date but I never published publicly...)

Pickles rickles: toasts?!? What is THAT supposed to mean?!

Kari: it means, my curious lil ornery pickles, that instead of roasting someone and being a mean rotter egg to them, you can “toast” them. Cheers to you, honoree, we salute you, in a hilarious way, by being honest about you but not vicious, viper like, and cruel. It’s where everyone laughs together cause it’s not a character assassination, instead of ripping on someone. It’s being funny, and yes, in a KIND and uplifting way. Where you actually celebrate the person being honored. Now, will that take a lil more brain power then the go-to usual jerk fach? Yes. But, it’s a challenge I hope everyone will accept for the good of all of us. Cause I guarantee that no one walks out of a roast feeling great. And if they do, cause they thought they killed or whatever, they probably did. And not in a good way. And that, again, is ass. No one wins. It’s a short lived feeling, the feeling of “one upping” a person. It never makes you feel better about you in the long run.

Dean: I see. I think I’ll go work on my volare now...

Kari: see?!? Now THAT I like! It’s not at anyone’s expense!

George: oh shit.... kari.... Why do you give a fuck about all this?

Kari: you know why George? Cause this has become our accepted collective energy! The haves and the have nots! Take away your money and what have you got?! Who are you, without the people who have made you who you are?! People, make other people in the 3D reality we live in. So take away everyone’s cash money, homes, clothes, and all the cars, and all the shit, and what do ya got? A bunch of naked humans starring at our different body bits, ok?! We’re All the f’n same. So think about it. What are we each individually contributing energetically to the whole of us? What message are we sending the next generations In our every day lives? I’ll tell you what message. Whatever we feel about ourselves individually both good and bad. THAT’S what energy we all give, and receive from one another. That’s what we’re teaching the kids. They model themselves after how we feel, and how we choose to think, and how we decide to act toward others. So let’s all collectively recognize that, and how we treat other human beings and wake up first inside ourselves then beyond ourselves so we can all make the whole, better.

I am not an asshole or a human joke or any other kind of joke. I’m not going to cry over the fact that I’m not accepted by people who’s energies don’t match mine. And by the by, no one is a joke, no matter who they are, or what their socioeconomic standing is. So I don’t wear an ascot and a smoking jacket, and a neck full of gold chains and chest hair, holding a whiskey on the rocks with an umbrella in it saying “see that?! be somebody!” ok?! I’m not Steve Martin in the jerk, ok? https://youtu.be/tBfXTyzaUfQ

I’m not even close to Hollywood! I live in the Midwest! I’m Kariwood, ok? And I’m not even kari wood, I’m no woods, ok? cause I’m pretty much never in the woods or the outdoors for that matter, so much so that I just purchased a sweatshirt that says, “indoorsy” on it, ok? True story! So yeah. Cause one time I was in Wisconsin in the woods, and I was thinking, “look at me! I’m in the woods! Weird, no?!” (Cause never in the woods, but I thought, I’ll give it a shot! What’s the worst that can happen?) And guess what? Despite my shower the night before, I felt something on the base of my skull the next morning, and I picked out a really nasty, creepy and scary tick. And it was alive, and disgusting, and wiggly. And I started screaming. And I am still freaked out to this day about it. And that happened at least 17 years ago. And I didn’t like it. So that’s how “non woods-y” I am... I’m not even a fan of woodsy the owl, ok?

So I don’t know how I feel about all that. All this to say that I am definitely not Hollywood, but yes, I am included, as a “somebody”. I may not be an award winning, keillor, but I am still somebody, and I may not be rich and famous, but yes, I am somebody, and I may have been on one trajectory and now I do t know what the heck I am now, ok? It’s true, and yes, I’ve posted this before and I’ll keep posting it until everyone in me gets on board with it, yes! I am still somebody because yes, dear me, we are all this: somebody! : https://youtu.be/tu0lNcrZjG8

George: hard to argue with that.

Kari: eh. You know what I am, George?

George: yes, Kari. I know what you are. But do you?

Kari: well, I feel, like I’m one of those kids on Sesame Street sometimes, looking up at and intently listening to Jesse Jackson, wondering how to get from small to big, and from where I am, to the success that he reps, you know? The importance of being admired by many. Having a big platform to play on. A huge soapbox to stand on, you know?

George: yes. I get it, Kari, I really do. And we’ve all been there. But everyone’s story about themselves, is different. How we all got to where we are, was our own personal trajectory that we designed with our beliefs. And our thoughts. There’s no set pattern or manual to follow. The only energy you must follow, is your passion and your joy, aka the love. That’s it. So, if you want to be, and decide to be, you ARE Hollywood,. Because Hollywood isn’t a specific person or group of people, it’s a place, and an energy. Hollywood is what you make it to be with how you view it. You don’t have to “be” Hollywood to be in Hollywood...

Kari: you said I wasn’t allowed in Hollywood..

George: you may not be. All I’m saying, is that you are whatever you decide you are. The end.

Kari: well, am I or not? Cause I don’t want to go and be turned away. Besides, I love visiting olvera st.

George: Its a fine street, it is. Great margaritas... listen Kari, you cannot achieve anything in this life that you don’t truly believe is in the realm of your possibility. So yes! You can be, and pretty much are are Hollywood keillor, even if it’s in the Midwest in your own home.. You are creative, and love the arts, and are nutsy, and ballsy, and you may hold the title as being the first person to ever separate the two, and bring them back together in a scote sack, ok? So keep writing, and be yourself.

Kari: I dunno. But what I do know is this: I did it again...

George: did what?

Kari: reactivated all the shit memories and feelings from the past that I’ve felt about my career, allowing myself to relive all those fun feels of inadequacy and upset alllll over again.

George: aww, it’s happened to the best of us. Listen Kari, you are, in my humble not so humble opinion, since I’m still you, a loving person. So you reflect that way; with humor, and yes, absurdist, surreal comedy.

Kari: well, I’ll try.

George: You already do. Your credentials are superfluous. Your love and support of you no matter what you do moving forward is what you’ll feel when you choose to, and it’s available anytime you want to feel it. And when you feel that, it really doesn’t matter what you do.

Kari: ok, well, thanks George. It’s nice to know I have you around.

George: Kari, you were once told that you are golden, no?

Kari: well, I was told that I’ll be golden at some point moving forward doing whatever it is I choose to do.

George: right. So, when are you going to decide to experience that?

Kari: hopefully soon.

George: Kari, why do you chop to talk to and write about us “passed over folk”?

Kari: I dunno. I guess it’s cause I love and miss you guys in theory, even though I didn’t know you personally. And I like to re-experience your energy, as I appreciated and admired it. It helps me feel better.

George: you’re now golden.

Scene.

Appendices: if you choose to perform this scene, good luck. I’d like you to do it all in one breath, if you are a more advanced, and professional actor. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣💕💕💕💕

[quackspot]

i started thinking about that gay bastard oc of yours. platano. can u tell me about him

omg u wer thinkgin about platano..... mr banana man... mr 4011. i am obsessed with the banana code srry i just got back from work (it was good :-D)

any way. um. im going below the cut. he kidnaps people and he murders people and i hate him because he’s also a massive weeb so. hm

HISTORY OF PLATANO... yea his name is spanish for banana

his father, pablo, will probably get a name change someday but i literally never think of his father since the only thing he did in platano’s backstory was disappear 

since platano’s world has characters based off like. fruits and vegetables (there aren’t really any limit to what the characters are based off of. it was in my lazy google translate name phase so we have like... a gay character named arcenciel who becomes dadlike through my powerful canon-changing touch. also arcenciel wears the colors of the rainbow as often as he can i haven’t figured out a good design for him since i’m not used to using more than 5 colors. he also owns a hat factory)

i think arcenciel and platano are friends they met when platano was like. 17 probably and arcenciel would be around uhhhhh ummmmmmm 21??? idk man but in canon he’s probably around 30 . yes i m saying “in canon” because i wrote a really dumb and horrible story back in 2018 arcenciel used to have HUGE internalized homophobia and i turned that into a running joke and i dislike that so that’s a reason why i’m not sharing the fun little story i wrote for my friends

(the best part of that story is when arcenciel threw his light-up rainbow heelies at platano, thus starting the boss fight which the main cast LOST.)

ok back to the topic at hand. platano.

i have a whole doc named platano where i just wrote drabbles about him so i’m going to summarize them

the first one was his friend, percisi (my only cishet oc he’s very short and very aggressive while also dressing in a soft-colored turtleneck since he’s based off of peaches) using a misunderstood form of satanism to summon satan. guess what percisi and platano summoned satan for. it was a manga update! wow

i won’t say the mangas name it was an inside joke

so platano was like “hey satan can i have this manga now please please” and satan went “sure just kill people for me” 

that determined platanos job for the next 7 or so years <3 wonderful. 

(it was basically me writing a backstory for a scene to happen in the main writing i wrote for my friends. he killed someone because someone else in the building was trying to summon satan. very confusing but okay i guess.)

i think right after that i wrote about platano meeting his boyfriend, sage, for the first time. i have horribly mixed feelings about their relationship since it’s very. Hm.

so platano kidnaps people to watch anime with him because all his friends left him and his best friend, mangue, is too busy being a dictator over the Land of the Fruits. i shit you not fruits oppressed the vegetables. i wrote that dynamic between the two because i was learning about the revolutionary war in US History. something like that at least

(the Land of the Fruits is not the official name)

on the topic of kidnapping people. guess who his favorite person was. sage. it was sage. so he tried to take sage often but they probably discussed Proper boundaries since everyone else tried to run away. hmm i am now going to write a bit right now 

“Platano,” Sage started. “Why do you keep kidnapping me? It’s rude and I hate it.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” The yellow-haired fool leaned on his sword, digging the tip deeper into the ground. 

“ASK ME IF I WANT TO HANG OUT??” 

“I can do that?”

“You keep making my dads worried.” Sage looked around the area, fidgeting with his hands. 

“Oh. Okay. Want to hang out? Watch some anime?” Platano paused for a moment, but managed to say “Maybe kiss?” before Sage got to answer.

“I- KISS??? We can watch anime together. We can go now.” 

Sage ushered Platano through a portal as fast as he could. 

His dads were never worried.

hmmm maybe that’s alright idk i’m a little tired so it’s probably a little out of character. sage probably isn’t that loud but i think it was trying to be the dynamic of “oh, we’re not dating” when they kiss every sunday at 5 pm by a romantic river scene 

he’s a character who is, at his very core, horrible and bad. he is portrayed in a way i DESPISE but i’m too lazy to correct it. his interest in sage actually started with me going “hmm i think platano would draw sage like this” then sauce giving me fun facts about his oc, sage, yea sage is sauce’s oc <3 epic win . so sauce gave me fun facts about sage and i was like “time to doodle these in platanos ‘art style’” when in reality it’s just the mockery of people just getting into an anime art style, with the chin so pointy it could cut a cake 

i might reread my old writing from 2018. i gotta agree with the judges for that year i did not write very well

it mightve actually been made in 2017 which would be FUCKIN CRAZY im gonna check rn 

yea it was started in 2018. february 14th... huh . finished it completely in june of that year it was 41 pages total and it’s not even double spaced how did i write something without double spacing it

OH MY GOD BOB IS GOING TO HIJACK THIS RANT JUST FOR A LITTLE

so bob is a fluffy little anthro cloud with a grey top hat and bowtie. he is amazing. i love bob. bob is another one of sauce’s character and mangue (mentioned earlier) was made by my friend jamie 

(you can always ask for their tumblrs but i’d ask them if its okay to share their tumblrs. i might just look at them and reblog their stuff cuz i like their art!!! maybe jamie posted a drawing she made recently on her blog but tbh i don’t think she would she’s more of a twitter user)

ok so im skimming thru UMG which is the story it stands for “Universe of Magic Gardens” and it was originally made for a prank on ponytown so people would go “what’s UMG” and my friends and i would be like “ur mom gay xDDDDDD” or something like that . horrible but i’m glad i’ve changed from . that.

here’s a bit i actually like AKLJFISJFIO

“What the actual FUCK, Ilkie?!” Arcenciel cringed in fear. “Put it back- it’s too ugly.” He pointed at Platano, whose arms were crossed. 

why is it bolded. anyway.

i just saw a part where eau used y’all... water cowboy moments <333 i really need to make refs for all of those old characters. all of my umg-related characters have to be my oldest-living ocs. 

i cant believe this is making me genuinely reread my old writing just to go “WJHFSIDAJKSFIOJ WTF????” 

some of the lines on it sound like something you would hear on like. a school bus or somethin 

looking at umg like “wtf how did i add so much Meat to this writing” bc most of my writing now is mostly quotations to progress the story (like the quickie i wrote earlier. i could add meat to it but im  tired lol)

OK THIS IS MORE GENERAL BUT MY FAVORITE THING ABOUT THIS WAS WRITING HAIKUS FOR PORTALS. after you visit a place enough times it’s kind of just an instinct to open a portal there so you don’t have to recite a haiku 

uhh ok here’s another bit becuase im feeling like living la vida loca.  ur biggest regret should be “can you tell me about him” by this point bc i’ve written too much to go back now

He landed on his face once he was outside of the hat. Meko quickly walked over to the guest room, opened the Portals for Dummies book, and flipped to a page. It looked devious.

“Banana, mango,

Each tasting amazingly.

A taste of evil.” 

Meko did the dance on the page, it consisted of something that looks like it’s from an anime. A portal opened, the familiar scent of bananas and mangoes coming from it. With some hesitation, Meko stepped in. He quickly made it so only his head peeked in.

it wasnt bolded this time but i like it bolded. ok i understand how i added meat it was just shitty expired meat ALKFSJSHDAIUJKFEIODSJAK . it wasnt even that much meat DAMN. it just looked like more.

actually that’s all i will write. i could  do more w platano but yea at his base he is a blonde twink who kills people because he wanted a manga but now he’s friends with a dictator. woo! wow. amazing character writing. i cant wait to get motivation to rewrite everything and make platano a good villain (he will still be very interested in anime sadly. idk why around that time i liked making characters who were obsessed with anime i didn’t even watch it much myself. i think it was because i wanted to put capes on them)

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 26

Seeking Forgiveness

Warnings: swearing

Word count: ~6800

Masterlist 

Read on AO3

You stir awake in the morning, the sunlight streaming through the leaves amidst the song of birds. If you weren’t stuck in this horrible clearing of Beaver Hollow, you’d enjoy this moment. You reach for Arthur, but your hand falls onto the cot. Opening your eyes, you see he’s not there, nor is he in the tent. Upon further inspection of the camp, you find he’s left camp entirely, but he had neglected to tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing. 

Not wanting to be trapped here alone again, you head over to Rannoch with the intention to leave. An obstacle appears in the form of Grimshaw. Turns out Pearson’s too drunk to cook again and everyone liked whatever you had done to the stew a few days ago, so she wants you to make it again. You almost tell her no and that you’re going out to do a job, but the thought of bringing in at least one good thing to camp stops you. Sighing, you nod and go to the table.

The day passes slowly as you prepare the stew, using what ingredients you can. Sadie marches passed with a repeater in hand, prepared to take guard duty. She gives you a brief greeting, which you return. Javier walks by, staring at you coldly. It surprises you.

“Hello, Javier,” you say lightly, trying to sound neutral. 

“Y/N. There are rumors that you and Arthur have been going behind Dutch’s back. This is the time we need to stick with him.” 

“Who’s saying these rumors?” you demand. “And where’s the proof?” 

“You two have hardly been in camp, and after that thing with John. All Dutch asks is for us to be loyal.” 

“And where’s his loyalty to us?” you snap. “We are the ones risking our necks to get us out there, all Dutch does is sit in his tent and talk about a plan he hasn’t bothered to share with any of us. So where’s the loyalty to the ones doing the real work?” 

Javier glares at you. “That isn’t the way it works, Y/N. Maybe if you had been more often or been with us longer, you’d understand.” 

He stalks away, leaving you shaken. You’ve always been on good terms with Javier, yet here he is acting like you’re the one causing all the trouble. Turning back to cutting up the rabbit on the table in front of you, you wonder if he’s just frustrated and taking it out on you. 

Charles wanders over to the table an hour after your interaction with Javier. He stops for a moment, not saying anything until you greet him. 

“Hello, Y/N. I’ve asked Arthur to help out Rains Fall. Think he mentioned you met him.” 

“Yes, of course. Did he agree?”

“He did. Just thought you might like to know.” 

You thank him and he sits down next to the table, offering you his company which you heartily agree to, glad for some of it. 

“I’m sorry that all these horrible things have been happening. I’m sure you’d rather be planning on a wedding with Arthur, not an escape plan to Tahiti or Australia or wherever.” 

“Well, one thing at a time,” you say, reaching for a carrot. “Yes, I’d love it if Arthur and I could sit down for five minutes without feeling like we need to be worried about everyone else. Set a date, at least. But it can wait, Arthur and I aren’t going anywhere so we can deal with the wedding later.” 

He nods and rubs his chin. You notice his hair, the sides of his head shaven away. You want to ask him why but decide not to, figuring it has something to do with the recent losses everyone has suffered. For the next little while, Charles helps to lift your spirits as you talk. 

Dutch and Micah end up leaving by midday, claiming they need to go and investigate something to do with a bridge near Cotorra Springs. You sigh, feeling like a part of the heavy cloud that has been looming over everyone’s heads has gone with them. 

Early afternoon and Arthur returns to camp, looking angry. Charles nods to you and then gets up to leave, figuring Arthur will probably come talk to you. You wait patiently as Arthur dismounts, but he doesn’t head over. Instead, he goes to the opposite side of the clearing where Strauss sits on a boulder. He looks up at Arthur and even from where you stand, you can see his lizardish grin. He says something to Arthur, but his back is to you so you can’t see his face. 

Suddenly Arthur grabs Strauss by the shoulder and yanks him to his feet. He marches Strauss across the clearing and towards Strauss’s tent. You aren’t the only one to stop and watch as most of the others have done the same. 

“Vhat are you doing?” Strauss demands as they reach his tent.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Arthur growls. “Get your bag.” He grabs it and starts throwing some of Strauss’s possessions into it. Strauss watches him, clutching his ledger.  

“I don’t understand,” he says in a surprisingly calm voice.

“I ain’t gonna kill ya, though I probably should.” Arthur stands up, still holding the bag. He glares at the other. “You disgust me, and you shame us, if we could be more ashamed than we already are.”

He tears Strauss’s ledger away from him and throws it to the ground, shoving the bag into Strauss’s arms. “That should do. Now go.” 

Strauss is forced to walk backwards as Arthur marches towards him, his eyes boring into Strauss with intense anger. 

“I don’t understand you,” Strauss begs. “Vhat are you doing?” 

Arthur grabs his shoulders again and takes him towards the horses, finally pushing him to the path. “Go and get a job!”

Strauss turns and stares at him, taking a few steps forward. “I vas your friend, Herr Morgan.”

“You and me, we ain’t decent, but those folk. They was.” Arthur reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of bills. He quickly counts them and then tosses them to Strauss’s feet. “Take that and get lost.” 

Strauss hesitates, but then he bends down and picks up the money. When he straightens up, he points to Arthur. “I’m-”

“Leaving,” Arthur cuts him off. 

Strauss gives him a sad look but then turns away and walks down the path, his head hung low. Arthur watches him leave, breathing hard. You wipe your hands off and quickly join his side as the others begin going back to their chores. “Arthur. What was that?” 

He sighs and finally looks at you. “It was time, Y/N. We don’t need filth like him makin’ things worse for us.” 

You grab his hand. “Come on, come sit down and talk to me while I finish making dinner.” 

Arthur lets you take him to where Charles had been sitting. He sits down, watching you go back to slicing up vegetales. 

“Come on, Arthur,” you say. “Tell me what happened. You’ve been tolerant about Strauss and his bullshit until now. What changed your mind?”

He sighs and explains how he went to collect the last debt. Turns out the man died from an illness, a likely result of being overworked in the mines. Arthur had gone to retrieve the debt from his widow, but he found her with her young son, claiming men were coming to take their house and what little they had left. 

“She looked at me like I was the devil,” he says, his voice somber. “All I could think of was how Eliza and Isaac must have looked when those men… I couldn’t do it. I told ‘em the debt was cancelled and gave ‘em some money. But I’m tired, Y/N. I’m tired of chasin’ these poor people Strauss sets himself on, takin’ what they don’t even have. I can’t sit here and watch him ruin people’s lives like that, we ruin enough already. He ain’t contributin’ to camp, he ain’t helpin’ feed us. It was time.” 

You grab his hand, your heart breaking for him. “You did the right thing, Arthur. Strauss has never done anything to help us and we’re in enough trouble already. But you did one thing I don’t know if I agree with.” 

“What?”

You smile softly at him. “I wouldn’t have given him any money. If he has enough money to lend to these poor bastards, he has enough to take care of himself.” 

“Oh,” he says, hiding his eyes beneath his hat. “Well, Strauss and I were friends at one point, I at least owed him a chance out there on his own.” 

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I wish I could take some of this weight from your shoulders. You keep going on like this, it’s gonna kill ya.” 

He squeezes your hand again. “I ain’t gonna die. I got you by my side.”

You smile at him and scoop the last ingredients into the pot. “Well come on, cowboy. Help me get this onto the fire.” 

He stands up with a sigh and lifts the pot onto the fire. Once it’s down, he grabs your hand and starts heading over to the tent. 

“You’re not even gonna try my cooking?” you say, coming to a stop. 

He looks at you and then over to the pot. “Well, I suppose.” 

“Come on, I didn’t cook it like Pearson does.” 

He smiles and grabs a plate, tasting it. “Hmm, actually pretty good, considerin’ your limitations.” 

You eat as you head on to the tent, several gang members lining up to get dinner. Once he’s done eating, Arthur looks over at you. 

“You wanna come with me tomorrow? Promised Charles I’d help out Rains Fall, you remember him.” 

“Of course. Any idea what he needs help with?” 

“Sounds like this Colonel Favours feller is givin’ ‘em a real hard time, can’t figure why. Anyways, I figured we’d stop by tomorrow, see how they’re faring.” 

The sun dips behind the trees, casting Beaver Hollow into the cool shadows. The mood of the gang does little to bring warmth to the clearing. You sit on the ground, your head leaning on Arthur’s thigh as he sits on the chair. John, Charles and Javier sit on the log, but no one says a word. You wish you could think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. 

After a while, you get up and walk towards the horses, unable to stand being stuck in the middle of the awkward silence. Rannoch rumbles affectionately as you approach him, pulling out a treat. It’s been hard, being so close to the site where Rain died and having a new horse, although Rannoch has been a blessing. 

“You make the stew tonight?” Bill’s harsh voice comes out from behind you. He takes you slightly by surprise.

“Oh, um yeah.” 

“Well, I’m… I’m just surprised, is all.” He takes a few steps closer to you and Rannoch. Your horse suddenly snorts in irritation. He’s never like anyone much with the exception of you, Arthur and Kieran before he’d been killed. Bill ignores the warning signals and takes another step forward, causing Rannoch to stomp angrily.

“Watch yourself, Bill,” you say immediately, patting Rannoch’s neck to try and calm him. He lifts his nose, snorting again and Bill steps back.

“Figures,” he spits. “I knew he’d be a turncoat, too.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you demand, turning to face Bill properly.

“You know what I mean, Y/N. People been sayin’ you and Arthur have been doin’ a lot lately since you ain’t been in camp much.” 

“Oh, and who said that? Micah?”

“Micah’s the one sayin’ there’s a rat in camp. Seems like ever since you and Arthur got engaged, we been dealin’ with nothin’ but trouble.” 

“So this is my fault?” 

“You tell me, Y/N,” Bill hisses. “You’re the one runnin’ around everywhere. Who can say where the two of you go?” 

“Hey, take it easy there, Williamson,” Arthur says from behind him. “What’s going on?” 

Bill whips around to glare at Arthur. “Nothin’, Morgan. I just think you need to keep a tighter leash on your woman.” 

Arthur slowly walks up to Bill and they size each other up, the air between them seems to crackle. “I suggest you stay away from my woman, Williamson. She ain’t done nothin’ wrong, and if she ends up killin’ ya for antagonizin’ her, I don’t think anyone can stop her.” 

Bill grumbles something and marches off after throwing you a sharp glare. Arthur walks up to you, putting a hand on your elbow. “Bill was out of line, darlin’. Don’t listen to him.” 

“I’m not, Arthur. Bill’s a fool.” You pause as Arthur pats Rannoch’s neck. The horse rumbles happily again, settling down. Artemis walks over, almost as though she’s jealous that Arthur is giving your horse attention and not her. As he rubs her head, your mind wanders back to how bad things have gotten. 

“I can hear you thinkin’, sweetheart. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“It’s just… why is everyone acting like it’s only a matter of time before we start ripping each other’s throats out?”

He sighs heavily. “Like you said, Bill’s a fool. He’s been angry a long time, I ain’t surprised by this.” 

“It’s not just him, Arthur. Earlier I heard Javier going after Charles. Charles, of all people! Saying he ain’t being loyal to Dutch. All Charles has done is help out the Wapiti a little. And it’s not just that. Tilly was ranting to me about you and all the other boys, saying you all been causing too much trouble and you’re gonna get us all killed.” 

Arthur sighs again, finally lowering his hands from Artemis’s face. “I know, sweetheart. Things are bad. But we at least owe it to all of ‘em to try and get us someplace better. Y’know, that whole ‘night is darkest before the dawn’ bit.” 

“I hope so,” you sigh. “I just hope that all this fighting doesn’t come between us.” 

Arthur smiles and looks down, his eyes finding your left hand resting near your side, the ring on your finger glinting from the distant firelight. He grabs it, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. “Me too, darlin’. I wish things were better right now, that we could sit down and plan on our weddin’ instead of plannin’ on how to get outta this mess.” 

“Me too, Arthur. I just hope that things calm down enough eventually that we can.” 

“We will. All things come to an end, even the bad things.”  

He suddenly pulls you close so your head is resting against his chest, his hand planted on your head. You sigh, closing your eyes as you enjoy the sensation of his other hand rubbing up and down your back. You fold your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer as you hear his heart thumping. 

In the morning, after having coffee, Arthur and you head out towards the Wapiti reservation, as per Charles’s instructions on how to find it. The reservation lies north west of Beaver Hollow at the northern tip of the Cumberland Forest. You both pass a long railroad bridge near a large station which seems to have been abandoned. Across the gorge that the tracks cross over is a military fort. Arthur leads you up north on the trail and you look to the right, your eyes going up the steep mountainside and resting on a boulder sitting at the edge of a small peninsula. An eagle sits upon it and takes flight, his wings glinting gold momentarily in the sun. 

The scenery begins to change as you head farther away from the railroad bridge. A swift river runs to your left, the banks going from gray and green to a brilliant orange. You come upon a bridge which hovers above the end of a wide section of the river, which dazzles a clear, enticing blue amongst the orange rocks. An elk somewhere hidden in the trees calls out, his cry echoing through the forest. Across the river and tucked amongst the pines, several columns of smoke from campfires swirl lazily into the sky. 

Arthur leads you across the river and up the trail until the village appears. You’ve always known about teepees so you’re surprised to find a few buildings nestled among them, along with wagons. Men and women mill about, throwing you and Arthur suspicious stares. After hitching the horses, you feel incredibly self conscious, knowing exactly how unwelcome you are. Arthur seems tense as well, his hand folds around yours. He approaches an older man sitting cross-legged outside of the nearest teepee. 

“Uh, excuse me, sir,” Arthur says calmly.

“You two should not be here,” the man says bluntly, looking from you to Arthur. 

“I know, but I have some business with Rains Fall. Said I could meet him here.” 

The man narrows his eyes before he finally points to a teepee near a large shack. Arthur thanks him and you both go to it. He hesitates, clearly wanting to knock but not knowing where. Eventually, he settles for hunching over to try and look into the flap of the teepee and say a gruff and unsure “hello?”. 

“Come in,” a voice answers from inside. 

Arthur glances at you before going in, you following. Inside, the teepee is more spacious than you had imagined, a fire in the center, making the teepee swelteringly hot. Crates, pots and other items line the walls, including finely woven blankets and a large bull’s skull with feathers attached to the horns sits high. Rains Fall nods in greeting to you both, another member of his tribe sitting close to him. 

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Morgan, Ms. Y/L/N,” Rains Fall says gently, staring at the fire. “Tell me, how is your friend, Mr. Van der Linde, fairing? My son has spoken much about him.”

“He’s uh,” Arthur begins awkwardly. “Well, I don’t know. He’s angry, I suppose. Throwin’ us all into a lot of chaos.” 

“Then I hope, amidst all the chaos, you both may find peace.” Rains Fall begins poking at the fire.

“I don’t know too much about peace,” Arthur says.

“Apparently not. Did you have fun with my son, the impetuous Prince? I believe you went on a raid with him.” Rains Fall and stares hard at Arthur, clearly pointing to how Arthur helped Eagle Flies retrieve their horses. Arthur had told you about that, how Dutch had gotten Eagle Flies ruffled up, how they had attempted to sneak onto the boat and steal the horses quietly but it had gone badly, ending with Dutch crashing the boat. 

Arthur sighs, clearly embarrassed and ashamed. You squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Rains Fall reaches into a pot with hot water, pulling out a cloth. He approaches another man you’ve just noticed, his face shining in sweat. He dabs at the man’s forehead with the cloth. You suddenly realize why he keeps it so hot in the teepee. He must hope the heat will break the mens’ fevers.

“I suppose I lack the grandeur of a conventional king,” Rains Fall says gently. 

“I don’t know too many kings,” Arthur says. He pats your back softly, urging you to speak. 

“Um, I don’t either.” 

“Colonel Favours,” Rains Fall straightens up, looking at Arthur. “He has already exacted some measure of revenge for the raid. Two women were assaulted by his men.” 

Your heart sinks upon hearing this. While your ex husband, James, had raped you many times, you can’t imagine the horror of being attacked not only by a stranger, but a known accomplice of your enemy. You and Arthur both hang your head in remorse. 

“I’m very sorry about all of this,” you say as Arthur rubs his nose. “Arthur would never have done it had he known it’d end that way.” 

Arthur nods in agreement. “No, I wouldn’t. A few horses ain’t worth it.” 

“Yes, sometimes the correct path, the bravest path is the least obvious, and also the gentlest.” Rains Fall straightens up, his eyes show a certain depth and intelligence you’ve rarely seen. “I’m a great disappointment to my son.” 

“Your son seems to want a war,” Arthur says. 

“My son thinks there is glory in death. I saw death being handed out so freely by the most foolish of men, I never could equate it with victory.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people,” Arthur admits. “For a whole lot of dumb reasons, I ain’t never seen much glory in it.” 

“Perhaps we could go for a ride. Discuss a few things. Your friend is more than welcome to come.” 

Arthur nods, squeezing your hand as Rains Fall leads you out of the teepee. 

“I’m an old man,” Rains Fall continues. “All my life, I have tried to bring peace. Perhaps you both can take pity on my plight. It won’t take long.” 

Arthur pauses and looks at you, as though questioning whether you should both do this. You nod, doubting that a simple ride with this man could do any damage. He sighs and goes with you to the horses. Just as you’re about to mount up, a voice rings out from behind you.

“Sir!” 

Turning, you see a military man on a huge red roan draft horse approaching. Rains Fall nods in recognition and welcomes the man. 

“Captain Monroe. Do you know my friends, Mr. Morgan and Ms. Y/L/N?” 

“No sir, I haven’t had the pleasure.” 

Arthur introduces himself and you to the captain. You nod in greeting when he says your name. 

The captain turns back to Rains Fall. “Sir. I was just in Saint Denis, spoke with the mayor. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”

Rains Fall sighs as though he were expecting this. He offers for Monroe to ride with your group a short ways, to which the captain agrees. You and Arthur mount up as Rains Fall climbs onto his horse. 

“Mr. Morgan, Ms. Y/L/N, come with me. I want to take you to a sight in the mountains, a place that’s long been sacred to me. A place for reflection.” Rains Fall begins trotting down the trail, you and the others following in a line. 

Rains Fall asks Monroe to tell him the news from Saint Denis. Monroe reports that an oil company has already been approved to drill upon the Wapiti’s land, but that nothing would be likely to happen for a few months. 

“I promise I will continue to do as much as I can,” Monroe finishes. He then glances back at Arthur. “Mr. Morgan, would you have time to help me? It would be better if certain actions were taken by friends outside the tribe.”  

“Of course,” he replies.

“I will too.” You say.

Monroe thanks you but then warns that some of the work may be potentially dangerous. You just chuckle. “You clearly don’t know nothin’ about me, captain.” 

“I suppose not, but I appreciate your eagerness. Come meet me on the reservation when you can. Anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time, sir.” Monroe kicks his horse into a canter and runs down the path which leads to the long railroad bridge. Rains Fall lifts his hand in farewell. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says after a moment, “but I am going to look for some herbs that might help some of my people. The army has been making things difficult for us, but I’ll go more into that later.” 

The group heads on a little further up the path and up ahead on the foot of a mountain, something large and gray is moving. As you approach it, Rains Fall says, “You see those wolves up ahead?” 

As you get closer, you can see the wolves feasting on a horse. 

“Brutality and beauty are both all around us,” Rains Fall continues in his calm manner as he leads you both up the fork in the road. “So often, though, we’re unable to see past our own grievances. I try to teach this to my son.” 

As the group approaches the wolves, they stop eating and growl, lowering their ears.

“Don’t shoot them,” Rains Fall warns. “They may not be a threat.” 

As he predicted, the wolves snarl once and then run off into the forest, abandoning their kill. 

Rains Fall leads you both further up the path until there is another fork in the road, traveling up the side of the mountain. “We can talk if either of you want, but please don’t feel like you have to. It’s a beautiful ride ahead if you need time to think.” 

“Well,” Arthur begins, “we don’t know you too well, but I wanted to speak to you about your son. I figure you know something about Dutch.” 

“A little, your friend Charles told me about him.” Rains Fall leads you off the path towards a rather steep area of the mountain. He heads over to a copse of bushes and stops to gather herbs. Looking around, you once again see the large boulder on the lip of the peninsula. The view is breathtaking as it sweeps across the Grizzlies and the Cumberland Forest. You feel an immense sense of peace, something you’ve seldom felt since the bank job that ended in Hosea and Lenny’s deaths. 

Rains Fall slides the herbs into his satchel and gets back onto his horse. Arthur, who had been admiring the view as well, turns back to Rains Fall. 

“I don’t know why Dutch is gettin’ involved in your situation,” he says. “This ain’t easy to say, but I don’t trust that he’s got your son’s best interests at heart.” 

“So what can we do?” Rains Fall asks. 

“I don’t rightly know. I just thought you should be aware.” 

“Ah, I understand. What do you think, Y/N?” 

You’re caught by surprise that Rains Fall would ask your opinion as he leads you both up the path again. “Well, I only been runnin’ with Dutch a few months. Before, he always seemed like he genuinely cared for everyone, but now he just seems to want a fight. Much like your son but for different reasons, I think. He’s changed a lot since I first met him, but I agree with Arthur. Just be aware of him and try to steer your son away from him, if you can. I don’t think Dutch has any good intentions in mind.” 

“Well, thank you. Both of you. I appreciate the warning.” 

The three of you continue traveling along the path once more as the path winds east along the mountain. It rounds to the left, opening up to a spectacular view. You’re sure you can see Lemoyne from this vantage point. The sun beats down pleasantly as you admire the view. 

Arthur suddenly brings you out of your own head. “I had a son once. Years ago. Don’t talk about him much.”

“What was his name?” Rains Fall asks.

“Isaac.” Arthur tells the story he had told you, of how he had met a waitress named Eliza and she had gotten pregnant. He also explains how he promised to do right by them, despite her knowing what kind of life he led. You can’t help your heart tugging painfully when he describes finding their graves after they were murdered for nothing more than ten dollars. 

Rains Fall pulls off the path again as Arthur finishes telling his story. He dismounts and picks some ginseng, putting it into his satchel. “I appreciate you both coming with me to pick these herbs,” he says gently. “And I’m sorry about your son, Mr. Morgan.”

“It hardened me,” Arthur says. “Feelin’ that kind of pain. But I know now you don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. That’s why I’m tryin’ harder this time.” He looks pointedly at you when he says this. It does not go unnoticed by Rains Fall as he mounts up again. 

“I think you’re being hard on yourself, Mr. Morgan.”

“Maybe,” Arthur says as he follows Rains Fall down the path again. “All I can do now is try to make some things right. Try to earn the good things I got and the ones I want.”

“Arthur,” you say with a soft smile. “I’m hardly a desirable prize.”

He grunts something you can’t hear as Rains Fall calls back to you from up ahead on the path, which is rounding to the right. “I think you underestimate yourself, Ms. Y/L/N. The way Arthur here looks at you makes me think he believes otherwise.” 

You feel your cheeks burn at this comment and Arthur looks at you over his shoulder, winking. You can see his cheek is pink. 

“Well, I done bad things too.” You kick Rannoch to walk side by side with Artemis so you can better talk with Rains Fall. Something about this man makes you want to trust him, to open up about your past. You tell him about your father and his abusive ways to try and raise you, your passive mother who let him, your cousin and then about James, who your father bribed with money to marry you and how he constantly attacked you. 

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” you say, shaking a little from your story. “So I finally shot my husband and was still so enraged that I went to my parents’ house. Shot my father and… tied my mother up before setting the house on fire. That was the thing I regret doing the most. At least my father’s and James’s deaths were quick. Hers wasn’t. I wish I had just shot her too.” 

“Hmm, anger is a powerful emotion, especially when it’s grown from that sort of pain,” Rains Fall says. 

“Sure. I’m just surprised Arthur still wants to marry me when he knows exactly how I killed my last husband.” 

“Yeah, well I ain’t foolish or cruel enough to treat you like that, darlin’.” 

You smile at him as the path winds into a switchback, going down the mountain. A few more moments pass in silence, allowing you to admire the sweeping landscape, marking the Heartlands.

“That feller Monroe,” Arthur says. “How do you know him?” 

“Captain Monroe was reassigned here from a regiment in the north. The news of our conflict has spread all the way to Washington. He’s a good man and he wants to help. The army aren’t all bad men, just as my people aren’t all good. But this Colonel Favours, he walks an old line. He’s obstinate, and he hates Monroe. I just hope we can work things out between us.”

Rains Fall goes silent as the path evens out and goes west. You can see that it travels up between two peaks of the mountain, where a copse of pines grow. The group goes up it and smoke rises from the trees. You’re expecting to see a campfire as a source of the smoke. Instead you see some of the pines have been burned and among them sits a Wapiti hut, charred to the point that only the branched structure still stands with tatters of the coverings on it. 

Upon seeing it, Rains Fall dismounts. “No. It can’t be. What’s happened?” He approaches the burnt hut, a long, low tune coming from his mouth. Although you don’t understand why he’s making the sound, you realize it means something horrible has happened that has shaken him. He kneels beside the burnt ground, looking devastated. 

“No! They destroyed everything!” 

You and Arthur dismount, walking up behind him. 

“ Who would do this?” 

“Someone who wanted to enrage you,” Arthur says. 

“Help me look around please. I need to find the Chanupa.” Rains Fall stands up and looks at you, his eyes begging. He describes the Chanupa to you, a kind of smoking pipe. You and Arthur begin looking around. You see a few bottles of whiskey and a bundle of rum-soaked logs. Just as you’re bending down to inspect the logs, Arthur hollers out.

“Over here!” 

You and the Chief go to where he’s standing on the west side of the burnt hut. At the edge of the path, the mountainside looks out across the valley once more, and at the foot of the mountain lies a large camp, a smoke trail rising from it. Pulling out your binoculars, you look on the camp. Without a doubt, it’s the army. You can see their blue uniforms. You hand the binoculars to Rains Fall and he takes them, looking. 

“These… brave men,” he says gruffly. “They are Colonel Favours’s men. They must have been the ones who did this.” 

“Are you surprised this happened?” Arthur asks. He lowers his binoculars. 

“Not at all, but I hoped we were past this.” 

“Well you got land they want, land with oil.” 

“But they were the ones who moved us here,” Rains Fall says, clearly confused. “They’ve taken everything we had. I signed three treaties myself and they’ve broken each one. Now they’ve taken the last hope, and my people will want a war.” 

“This Chanupa,” Arthur says. “If we get it back, will it makes things better?”

“Some. It will at least deter my people from demanding we fight.”

“Then I’ll go,” Arthur says. “I’ll go in the camp and look.” 

“Me too,” you say. 

“Thank you, both of you. But please, try not to hurt anyone. Their dead will not help my people.” 

You nod and head down the path with Arthur on foot. The path leads into another switchback until it slopes out to a less steep decline. You and Arthur hide in the cover of the boulders and sparse bushes that dot the land, sneaking your way closer to the camp. 

When you’re close, you both stop and observe the men. There’s only about eight or nine, three of them sitting by the campfire while most of the others patrol the camp. Arthur takes out his binoculars again and sweeps the camp.

“There’s somethin’ by their fire. Looks like a long rod of some kind. I think it’s the Chanupa.” 

“I’ll go get it,” you say. “Cover me.” 

“No, I’ll go.” 

“Arthur, I’m smaller than you and you’re a better shot. If anything happens, you can take them down quicker. I’ll try to be quiet though.”

He sighs but lets you go. You scurry from your boulder to a bush and wait for the nearest patrol to you walk a little further away. Dashing into the camp, you sidle between a tent and a wagon. As you’re tip toeing on the side of the tent, you hear someone inside of it snort as though waking up. You hear the sounds of him getting up and walking towards the front, causing you to flit to the back again in case he comes to your side. He does, and you watch, peaking around the corner, until he’s gone. 

You sneak up to the front of the tent again, which isn’t far from the campfire. The three men sitting around it talk unconcerned. 

“I heard old Favours was trying to get him transferred. Don’t like him much,” one says. You creep up to the front of the tent and peak around to see the men. Two of them have their backs to you but one could easily see you from the corner of his eye if you move too quickly. You take a few seconds and look around the area, spotting a long pipe in a colorful leather sheath. It must be the Chanupa. 

“He always seemed like a decent fellow,” another man responds. 

“That’s exactly the problem.” 

The man whose side is facing you turns his head away to scratch his neck. You take the chance and dart forward quickly, grabbing the Chanupa and retreating back to the cover of the tent. Standing to the side of it again, you pause again to make sure you weren’t spotted. 

“Monroe went to west point, Favours never made it.” 

You sigh in relief, they didn’t see you. Although your heart beats hard in your chest, feeling like it’s about to leap into your throat, you calmly back away towards the back of the tent the way you’d come. Checking that the patrol hasn’t come around to your side again, you hunch over and sneak from the bushes to the boulders until you finally meet up with Arthur again. 

“You got it?” he asks. You show him the Chanupa in your hand. “Good. Fellers don’t seem to have seen you. Let’s get back.” 

You follow him up the side of the mountain, still using whatever cover you can find until you reach the switchback. After climbing it, you breathing heavily and Arthur wiping his brow, you find Rains Fall sitting cross-legged next to the burnt hut where the opening surely would have been. He looks up at your approach. 

“Please tell me you found it,” he begs. 

As you both walk up to him, you hold up the Chanupa and set it in his outstretched hands. 

“I think that’s it,” you say, a little uncertain.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’m very sorry about all this,” Arthur says. 

“Even sacred things are only things,” Rains Fall says. “People, the heart, matter more. Was anyone hurt?” 

“Don’t think those bastards even knew we were there,” you say simply. 

“Good, good. I wish my son knew such restraint. My people owe you both a great debt and I’m giving you very little.” 

“You don’t owe us anything,” you say.

Rains Fall reaches into his satchel. “Please, take this,” he says as he holds out what looks like a bracelet with a carnivore’s teeth and an owl feather. Arthur takes it from him gently. “We believe it is sacred,” Rains Fall explains.

“Thank you,” Arthur says, handing it to you. You hold it just as gently, though you run your hand over the owl feather. It slips easily between your fingers without making a sound like other feathers would have. 

“I must get back to my village,” Rains Fall says. He begins to stand but seems to struggle slightly so Arthur helps him up. “I hope you both can find peace within yourselves.” He heads off to his horse and trots away. You raise your hand in farewell as Arthur inspects the hut. 

“Come on,” he says when Rains Fall has vanished around the curb of the trail. You both hop onto your horses and make your slow way back towards the direction of Beaver Hollow.

“He’s different than I thought he would be,” you admit on your way down the mountain. 

“Who? Rains Fall?” 

“Yes. I thought, being in the situation he’s in, he’d be more like his son. Angry. Even when we found that place, he wasn’t. I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone quite like him.” 

“Hmm, well, to be honest, he’s a man who, not so long ago, I would have found weak and pathetic,” Arthur admits. “But now I see him as wise, thoughtful and sensible.” 

“I know what you mean. Maybe we’re both changing.” 

“No, I think just our perception of the world is. I would love to help him, or at least stop Dutch pushing his son to do something real stupid.”

“Why do you think Dutch is doing it? He killed Cornwall, but you said all that’s happened is Pinkertons have swarmed into Van Horn and Annesburg.” 

“They have. Dutch said he killed him because Cornwall had his hands dipped in the Pinkerton’s pockets, shoveling money into them. Said he was hoping with Cornwall dead, they’d ease off. But to be honest, I think Dutch is… just startin’ to like killin’ folk. Exactly the opposite of what he told me and John not to be when we was growin’ up.”

“He’s not who I remember first meeting,” you admit as the horses walk into a thick covering of oaks dotting the path. “I remember he was suspicious of me, but it was because he feared I might be a threat to you. If I had been in the same situation and you’d brought me into the gang with Dutch the way he is now, I’m not sure he wouldn’t kill me on the spot.” 

“Nor am I, though I think even now you’d have to give him a reason. Mind you, he don’t seem to need much at the moment. I just hope we can help him see reason, make him see that our situation ain’t good for any of us. We at least owe him the chance, sweetheart.” 

“I know, I know. We’ll try, Arthur.”

[sammyhale]

J2 ChiCon 2019 Main Panel

J2 jump onstage!

The Chicago weather is at fault of HBO because of the Game of Thrones premiere. Jensen: Winter is here. Jared: They're trying to upstage us AND the Star Wars convention  

Jared: Anyone running the Boston Marathon at 6 am tomorrow? Jensen: NOPE. * indicates audience and himself* SMART PEOPLE. Then he teases Jared that with all the canceled flights and snow in Chicago, he might also not be running it.

Jensen is going to direct in Season 15 and imagined there will probably be a lot of behind the scenes carries, though they don't know what it'll look like. 

Apparently, everyone who has ever been on Supernatural has been reaching out to Jared like "So! Last season! Can I come back?" He's like THERE HAVE BEEN SO MANY EPISODES, WE COULD DO A PERSON EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR AND NOT RUN OUT OF PEOPLE TO BRING BACK

Fan: Will Cas’s initials ever be carved into the table? Jared: No, he’s not a Winchester Jensen: Who are we talking about?

Trolling fan asking when Cas will sign the table. Jensen says eventually the table will be like a guest book and everyone who walks by signs in. Jensen gets to the heart of the issue saying that it loses its meaning if everyone carves their initials on there.  

Jared jokes that Cas should sign the underside of the table. Jensen says he should sign a chair or something easily removable, then they can easily be like "SAM, CAS IS HERE. BRING BACK THE CHAIR." 

Jensen on the carved initials in the bunker: It’s an iconic image that was messed with and it's conflicting, I expect there to be more of the same in the next season. I always loved what that initially stood for and now it’s been added to. The addition of Mary's initials changed that iconic image but it's also a memory of her. 

J2: We're constantly inspired and humbled by the fandom.     

Advice for someone about to do theatre? Jared: You've done theatre way more recently than me. Jensen: DON'T ACTUALLY BREAK YOUR LEG. "You're gonna be nervous. Use it." Jared adds that things will go off plan. Be ready for that moment and embrace it. 

Asked about pranks, they talk about how Jared was recently kicked off set for making Misha laugh too much. But he army crawled back. Everyone could see Jared on the floor except Misha who was looking away. Jensen directed the camera down to Jared. Then suddenly Misha yells because Jared snuck up and grabbed him.

Jensen: They both had bruises...like they went to some odd bondage party. Jared: We did that later... :P 

Their pranks are more opportunistic than the planned stunts people want to believe they get into. Jensen: It's more target practice than anything. *pointing to Jared* But he's committed though.

Jensen keeps patting Jared’s leg.

They got asked what they would ask a super fan after being asked what question they wish someone would ask. Jared: I've never been asked so many questions about what questions I want. Jensen: They've run out of things to ask us. Don't you see what's happening??

JARED WAS DOING A LONG SILLY RIFF LEADING BACK INTO A QUESTION OVER AND OVER AND JENSEN WAS GOOGLING THROUGH IT AND WHEN HE FINISHED JENSEN YELLED "He's still got it!!!" and they did an exploding fist bump :))  

Fan: “I’m a born and raised Chicago girl” Jared: “Me too” *waves with a smile*

Favorite parts of Chicago? Jared: rock & roll McDonalds Jensen: River Park Area, Big Star

A few years ago Jensen, kids, Danneel and Misha ate at a restaurant in Chicago. Danneel ate a super hot pepper and was having a meltdown but Misha didn’t wait to see how it turned out and also at one. They were pouring water on their faces and Jensen was laughing at them. 

Jared came to Chicago in high school. He'd never encountered someone asking for $ so when asked for change he said, "Sorry, I only have large bills." Jared: I could see in his face he was thinking "I should rob this kid probably? He's too dumb. He'll need that to get home." 

“We’ve aged but not grown up.” Jared: I went from a wannabe to a has been in one show!

Jensen: This has been the journey of a lifetime playing this character and alongside these great friends being able to play this alongside friends, but who will be friends for a lifetime, like Jared and Misha. 

Jensen: Playing Dean has been a bit of an escape at times.

Jared: I've learned to forgive myself just as Sam and Dean have learned to forgive

Jared: Misha and I have this conversation, life had all this promise and now it feels like we are past our prime. If anything we are able to provide for our friends and family.

Earliest memory? Jared jokes: Swimming in a race against millions. Jensen: Congratulations you won, how does it feel to be a winner?

Jared: I remember learning how to ride a bike!

When he was a kid, Jensen would get up, sheriffs hat and vest on, his entire ensemble, and play cowboys, that’s how he got his bowlegs lol

J2 cracking each other up :)

Jared mentions laundry. People cheer. He goes, "Lot of laundry fans! Shout out Gain!" Jensen: Are you a Gain man? Jared: I am a proud Gain man. Also softener! Jensen: You use SOFTENER. Jared: No? WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO WEAR CARDBOARD *touches his sweater*oh Jensen: I'M SOFT ENOUGH.

Jared likes seeing Sam and Cas on a case together. 

Someone recently gave JJ a gift & she just looked at it and was like, "There's no pink on it." Jensen: So I had to give her a daddy lecture about how it doesn't matter what you get, you say thank you. JJ: But what if there's no pink on it? 

Recently Tom got in trouble for saying Fuck at school. Jensen: I WONDER WHERE HE LEARNED THAT. Both boys laugh and then Jensen whispers, "Me." Then Jared and Gen had to ask him what he said and grab each other's legs like DON'T LAUGH.

Jared: We don't do baby talk around the kids. Jensen: C L E A R L Y.

Fan: If you two were hunters in real life what would you drive? Jared: Tank! Jensen: a James bond kinda car that can go invisible when you go underwater.   

Young fan: How did you get so tall? Jared: I drink a lot of milk. I eat a lot. Jensen: If you're looking to get tall, just do what Jared does. He has a contraption in his home that stretches him. Eat a lot and then just stretch out. 

Fun on set? Jennsen: Between filming, he and I have always filled that time with a lot of fun things. 

Most fun they've had on set?: Jared answers broadly: falling in love with his wife, meeting life-long friends. Jensen talks about moments they've gone out of their way to create: ping pong competitions, the first day of autumn when they play baseball, etc.

Last question: How often do they eat on set? Jensen said he used to just shove food in his mouth in early seasons, but now he takes maybe one bite. That one scene where Dean put spaghetti in a taco? It was Jensen’s idea. “The things we do for art.” 

During a scene, Jensen takes one bite and interrupts all other bites with dialogue. Jared is very impressed with how good he's gotten at fitting his mouth into bite marks he already made lol. 

Info via: Fangasm, Cherie, Amy, #SPNChi

[artificialqueens]

Laws of Motion / Chapter 1 (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Summary: “Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed on it.”

A/N: 

Hi. Hello. How are you? Welcome to another crazy idea that came to my mind and have no clue where it’s gonna take us! Wooh! Usually I’m not a big fan of crude smut thrown at you right from the start, yet, here we are haha so, if that’s not your cup of tea, you can just skip that part once you reach it, there’s no other impact on the story other than it happened. Hope you enjoy the ride. Thanks for reading! -Monkey

AO3 Link

Laws of Motion

Chapter 1 - Pink.

The music was loud.

More than hear it, Katya could feel it.

She could feel the waves of sound pulsing all through her body. She could feel her blood running through her veins to the rhythm of the unfamiliar song. Her eyes were closed as her ears filled with the blaring noises of the club, clashing and mixing together. Her arms were up in the air as she allowed her mind to go blank. Her body responded to the movements dictated both by the music and the hands of the stranger holding her hips.

She could feel the man’s fingers digging into her flesh, but she didn’t mind. She could feel his semi-erection against her ass, but she didn’t care. She liked it. She liked the fact that she was utilizing him. Right in that moment, he was nothing but an object to her. He might as well be a wall she was slamming her body against while dancing, he had as much importance. His reaction to the way her body moved was all she was looking for. She liked that power. Taking advantage of that power, of the symbolic grip she had on the guy, she turned around in his arms. Her hips pressed hard against his. She could feel him through her tight skirt. If there hadn’t been clothes between them, they could very easily be fucking already.

She knew that.

He knew that.

His stare told her as much.

That was the only reason why she turned around and walked away. He called after her but she didn’t listen. One of her hands went up in the air, dismissing him completely. He really had nothing else to offer her.

She made her way through the crowd. The dance floor was completely packed and she loved to feel the pressure of hot bodies against her own, even if it was just for a second. The only problem was, it was too hot and she was sweating. She needed a break.

With a little bit of trouble she managed to step away from the moving bodies, and went to find her friends. They were all drinking and dancing in the little private area. That particular booth was permanently reserved for them. That was the type of privilege they got for being regulars at the club. The seats of the small round tables were not always filled, but that night was a special occasion.

“That was quick. Did you fuck him already?” Violet swung her long ponytail from one shoulder to the other. Her dark hair shone with the fluorescent lights blinking behind her.

Katya laughed at her assumptions, her head shaking in disbelief. “You are rotted!” And that was all the attention she dedicated to the matter.

She went around the circle, pretending to give lap dances to those sitting down, and watched them get shit-faced as she sipped from her tall glass of Coke. She felt happy, she felt alive, she felt completed. There were no visible cares in the world. All the people that mattered to her the most were right there, in that stinky booth, having fun and enjoying themselves. If only things could stay like that forever, or at least for a little bit longer, but they couldn’t. Because time waited for no man, nor woman, and life went on, leaving behind whoever wasn’t ready to catch up.

Suddenly, she noticed the bucket in the center getting empty, when it had been filled to the rim with beer bottles not so long ago. Placing her fingers between her lips, she whistled in the direction of the bar.

Her eyes caught a girl sitting alone on one of the stools. Her hair was blonde, flat-ironed, and parted in the middle. It went all the way down to her waist, creating a remarkable contrast against the bright pink dress she was wearing. Her shoulders went up and down at an erratic pace, not really following the beat of the song.

The bartender whistling back took Katya out of her trance. She shook the empty bucket, the remaining ice cubes rattling inside. No other explanation was needed and the bartender sent a waiter her way, to retrieve the bucket to be filled again.

Her eyes were glued to the girl during this entire time. She watched her fingers rapidly tap against her phone, probably sending text messages that she was going to regret in the morning. Her head hung low. She was most likely crying. Her long fingers wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle, and she seemed to down it all in one swing. Katya had to guess it hadn’t been completely full; the girl didn’t look like the type that could drink an entire bottle of beer at once.

A waiter finally approached her, new round of beers in his hand, making her stop her observations. For the time being, she forgot about the girl drinking alone at the bar, and she concentrated her attention on making sure everybody had a drink in their hands.

It wasn’t necessary, but she couldn’t miss the chance. She drank the last bit of her soda and made her way through the crowd again.

“Hey, Bob!” Katya approached the bar, the empty glass high in the air. “Oops, sorry. I touched you.” She apologized when she felt her arm bump against the person on the tall stool. The girl simply looked away, hiding her face behind the curtain of straight hair. “Another one, please and thank you.”

Bob took the glass from her hand and reached for a new can of Coca-Cola. “Coming right up!”

The process was simple, but took the bartender enough to give Katya time to analyze the blonde girl. She still wouldn’t look in Katya’s direction, which gave her the freedom to shamelessly scan her up and down. She was cute. Really cute.

Bob finally gave her the long glass back, filled with ice cubes and bubbling soda.

“You are the best.” She flashed her biggest smile his direction. “Put it on my tab, and, please, give Depressed Malibu Barbie over here a double of whatever she’s drinking,” she said as she turned around to leave.

She heard a loud ‘I’m not…’ coming from the girl but Bob quickly cut her off.

“Just take the drink.”

Without looking at them again, Katya made it back to her friends. She stepped on the cushions of the booth, holding on to someone’s shoulder for balance.

“Hi, yes, hello. May I please have your attention, you dirty whores?”

Everyone around her stopped what they were doing. They turned to look at her with amusement on their faces. Nobody knew what to expect, but were perfectly aware that there was not one time that Katya didn’t make them laugh with her speeches.

“Thank you, thank you. As you know, Miss Ginger Minj over here, AKA female Danny DeVito, AKA Tony Soprano, AKA…” She had to stop mid-sentence, laughing hysterically at her own words as everybody else chuckled slightly. “AKA my best friend and partner, decided to abandon us all and get an early retirement.”

She exaggerated a face of disappointment, only as a cover-up for the real sadness that had invaded her for months. Ginger had recently gotten married, and she was the happiest she had been in her entire life. It didn’t surprise anybody when she let them know she was leaving, wanting to dedicate her entire attention to her husband and the new life they were about to start.

“You will be greatly missed,” Katya continued with put-on solemnity. “Luckily, your BO will linger around the halls forever.” There was one more pause as she recovered from her own joke, before she actually turned serious. “Come on, now, raise your glasses and join me in the celebration of the one and only, the multitalented, the incomparable, the often imitated but never duplicated, Ginger Minj! May her smoker’s breath continue to infest every room she ever walks into, may her big juicy ass only grow bigger and juicier, and may that new husband of hers fuck her so hard every night that she can never walk straight again.”

There was a round of laughter as her friends lifted their drinks to her words.

“To Ginger!” She ended loudly, making the people around her to repeat in unison. The words were followed by the sound of bottles and glasses clinking with each other.

She got down and hugged her friend. The smile was still on her face when she turned around in the direction of the bar again. The mysterious girl was looking at her, or at them, probably their toasting had called her attention. Katya wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was intrigued by the girl, hiding behind the heavy layers of makeup that made it impossible to even look at her eyes.

Katya would later learn that her name was Trixie, that her heart had just been broken, and that she tasted sweeter than any other girl that had ever ridden her face. For the time being, she was reduced to a sad woman, drinking alone at the bar, wearing a pink dress and too much makeup.

It was very unusual of Trixie to be doing so, she had to admit as much to herself, but the circumstances called for it. The rough and sudden shift in her perfect little life didn’t seem to have any other solution but to drown it in alcohol.

She had been there before. She had been hurt by a man before, but never like this. This time it felt different. She wasn’t even sure why she had such strong feelings about it. Things had been good, but there was no reason for her to be destroyed about the end of her relationship.

Her finger unlocked the phone, even when it didn’t show any new notifications. She went to the messaging app and opened a specific conversation. It could barely be called that, if she was being honest. Nothing but blue bubbles appeared on her screen, filling up the right hand side of the unilateral discussion. The smiley emoji wearing a cowboy hat, followed by pink hearts and sparkles, at the top of the screen, suddenly made her feel sick.

Drunk texting was never a good idea, she knew as much, she was smart enough to know that. The pressure in her chest, the pain in her soul, and the alcohol running through her veins, gave her enough courage to type yet another message.

Thank you for teaching me what true love ISN’T.

She backspaced the entire thing, deleting the message and starting over.

You just made me realize how much I don’t need you.

That was a lie. She did need him. She did miss him. Or at least she missed how it felt to be loved by someone; but that was a feeling that had been gone for some time now. They had lived miles and miles and hours apart, but they had been able to make it work. She would visit him every other weekend, and he would take a trip down to meet her whenever he was available. Through many phone and FaceTime calls is that they had made it possible to stay together even when being apart. Trixie had to wonder if that was the reason why they lasted so long, because they didn’t really see each other. If she had to put together all the days they actually spent together in the course of so many years, they wouldn’t sum up to more than a few months.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed the button to lock her phone again.

No message was sent.

She looked around instead, noticing for the first time how loud the music was. She had been immersed in her own pathetic little world that she had taken no regard on the people partying behind her.

The spinning of the stool was enough to make her dizzy, she decided to sit still, like she had been doing the whole night, and asked for another beer.

The tall man behind the counter, Bob, looked at her with a side grin. “Girl, don’t get me wrong. I’m from New York. I’m all about getting plastered and then riding the train home at the same time that people are going to work.” He laughed at his own words, taking the empty bottle from her hand. “Are you sure about that drink?”

“Oh, my God! I’m so glad you asked!” Trixie’s sarcasm was not missed by the bartender who laughed wholeheartedly. “Yes, I’m sure about that fucking drink.”

The beer was placed in front of her, then a bottle of water landed right next to it. “Meet me halfway?” The guy asked with the same shit-eatting grin.

Trixie rolled her eyes, but took the cap off of the water bottle anyways. “I’d really appreciate it if you stayed away from my business. Thank you.”

He lifted his hands in surrender and moved along to serve other customers. No other words were said. For a moment, Trixie was sad the interaction was over. She had finally been given a distraction from her own destructive thoughts and she had pushed it away. All she could do now was watch the bald man as he laughed and handed out glasses filled with liquor. Trixie wondered if he was giving them a hard time as well, if he was always protective of his customers or if he had felt pity for her. She was drinking alone, and visibly crying, after all.

That had to stop immediately.

She drank the entire water bottle at once, not really realizing how much her body needed it until the first drops touched her tongue, and stood up. With the phone in her hand, she made her way to the bathroom. Walking was a struggle, and her high heels were not helping. Maybe she was, indeed, drunk.

She entered the last stall of the row. Her body felt heavy as she sat on the toilet. Her elbows landed on her knees and she let her head drop to her hands.

As Trixie was receiving the epiphany that she needed while peeing, on the other side of the club Katya felt claustrophobic. There were too many people in the small space with the extremely low roof. The room felt hot and air was not circulating enough. Ironically, she knew that the thing she needed to be able to breathe at peace again was a cigarette.

She stepped outside and the warm breeze hit her face. It was as much as she could ask for a LA night and she took it gladly. Up until that moment she hadn’t realized just how sweaty she was. The belt around her waist was too tight, making it even harder for her to breathe normally. She liked her top, and was grateful for picking something see-through. It allowed air to flow and her tattoos to show, but the feeling of mech against her arms and torso was itchy. She could feel every piece of clothing sticking to her skin. It wasn’t a nice feeling but it was one that she was rather used to.

The calming effects of the nicotine worked wonders right away. She could feel her lungs expanding as they filled with smoke. Her thoughts immediately stopped racing and a sense of utter peace enveloped her whole.

She kicked pebbles with the tip of her shoe. One arm was wrapped around her waist, the other one finding support on it to place the cigarette to her lips. Everything around her was quiet. And she liked it that way. She could see the cars driving on the street, their lights bright enough to reach her all the way at the end of the alley.

Her peaceful moment was disrupted by the back door of the club opening roughly. The girl from the bar walked out, her steps stomping hard against the pavement as she walked with alcohol induced confidence.

“That’s right,” she said to the phone glued to her ear. “I am walking to the dumpster right now. I am taking the key out of my purse,” she narrated her every move. “If you don’t say anything right now I will throw it in there, and you will never see me again.” There was a pause, which clearly didn’t give her the answer that she was looking for. “Fine. It’s done. Bye, see you never,” she assured as the small piece of metal landed on trash bags with a small thud. “I guess you don’t love me after all.”

Forcefully, she pressed the red button to end the phone call. She turned around and spotted Katya for the first time.

“Ex-boyfriend?” Katya asked, respectfully blowing smoke in the opposite direction.

Trixie nodded her head. “Ex-boyfriend’s voicemail, to be exact.”

Katya smiled, throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. “You are too hot for him anyways.”

Her eyes grew wide open in surprise. “How do you know that? You don’t know him, or me.”

“But I have eyes, and I can see you are hot, Barbie doll.”

“Trixie, my name is Trixie.”

“Nice to meet you, Trixie. Say, do you feel like dancing the depression away?”

The girl extended her hand and Trixie took it, allowing the total stranger to pull her back inside. She didn’t realize, but Trixie never got the girl’s name. It didn’t seem to matter then, not when their bodies grinded together and the music did all the talking. The name was going to be a big deal in a few hours, though, when Trixie’s orgasm was going to rip her to pieces and she was not going to know which name to scream in delight. Right that instant, however, it was irrelevant.

Trixie allowed Katya to press her body against hers, to let the song that was playing loudly from the speakers to provide the necessary words to fill up the space around them. It felt good. It felt nice to have soft skin brushing against her own. It felt electrifying when nails dug on her flesh. It felt hot when the perfectly round ass rubbed against her crotch.

Hot.

It was hot, both the room and their dance. Katya was a complete mystery and an enigma. She would whisper silly nothings into her ear, making Trixie laugh with joy, and, at the same time, use her body to set Trixie’s on fire. She had never felt like this before, so free, so careless, so turned on. Trixie knew her heart was still torn into a million pieces, but the thin girl exploring her body with her hands, was melting her in such a way that the broken parts seemed to glue themselves back together.

Everything around her was spinning, and Trixie didn’t seem to find another anchor that it wasn’t Katya’s body crashing against her own. She became the gravity center that she needed. And the pull was so strong that Trixie couldn’t help it when she suddenly found herself pressing her lips against the other woman’s. This was something completely new to her, but the feeling was so amazing that she didn’t want to deprive herself from it.

Katya smiled for a moment, moving her lips to Trixie’s ear. “You are drunk, bitch.”

The new position only allowed Trixie to plant a kiss on Katya’s neck, never stopping the swaying of their bodies. “So are you, so what’s the problem?” she said against her skin. She simply couldn’t stop herself. She wanted– she needed more of her. “Wanna get out of here?”

Katya pushed her away, just enough to look her in the eye. “Are you sure? You may regret this in the morning.”

“Are you really that bad in bed?”

Both looked at each other for a moment, before erupting in uncontrollable laughter. Katya was the first one to recover her voice. “I’ll grab my stuff.”

“I’ll get us an Uber.”

The car drive was made in silence. Katya had enough conscience to leave some space between them in the backseat. Trixie had been drinking, a lot. Katya wanted to give her that time to sober up and think if that was really what she wanted. Trixie seemed to be doing just that. Katya observed her from the far end of the seat, kept a close eye in the way she looked out the window, the city lights making the glitters on her face shine bright. It was a beautiful sight of a beautiful girl.

Trixie was completely aware of Katya’s eyes on her. She liked that feeling. Something in the bottom of her stomach had been set on fire, and the heat spread all the way down to her most private area, making her throb with desire she had never felt before. It was new and interesting and she couldn’t wait to explore the feeling some more.

She turned around abruptly, expecting Katya to look away and pretend she wasn’t watching her, but she didn’t.

“Are you one hundred percent sure you wanna do this?”

If there was any trace of doubt in Trixie’s mind, the sincerity in Katya’s eyes made it fly out the window. “Are you kidding me? Yes, of course I am.”

They both held their stares for a moment too long until Trixie extended her hand, taking Katya’s and interwinding their fingers. Still holding hands, they walked inside the apartment building. It wasn’t until they were inside the elevator that Katya even tried to make a move.

Still holding hands, they walked inside the apartment building. It wasn’t until they were inside the elevator that Katya even tried to make a move.

“Come here, Mamma.”

Trixie did as she was told. With a side smile on her face, she moved to stand right in front of Katya, towering her. Each of her hands flanked Katya’s head as she leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against hers. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, it was a tentative move, almost as if they were testing the feeling under these new circumstances. There was no loud music or sweaty people dancing around them. There was nobody but them in that small metallic box, space that kept feeling smaller and smaller the longer they kissed. Because the elevator was not big enough to contain the immense waves of desire that washed over them like tsunami tides.

The door slid open with a ding, revealing their own image reflecting on the mirror across from them. They looked a hot mess. Katya stared at herself, at the mascara creating dark circles under her eyes, where it mixed with the liner that had already ran. Her hair was gone beyond the point of no return.

If she had gotten into this state, just by dancing, she couldn’t imagine how she was going to look like walking out of that apartment, all fucked out by the real size Barbie doll dragging her through the narrow hallway.

They stopped by the door with the letter F on the front. Trixie pulled her closer, her lips once again meeting Katya’s as her hand fished the key in her purse. Doing both things at the same time proved to be too difficult for her, but she didn’t stop either. She allowed her mouth to continue devouring Katya’s as she pushed the key into the knob. Her tongue was running against each of Katya’s teeth when the front door closed with a bang.

“You need to take off your shoes,” Trixie informed her between kisses. She turned around and found stability on the wall in front of her, trying to kick off her high heels.

That was when she felt Katya’s hands on her ass. “I think you need to take off your panties.”

What happened next, Trixie felt in slow motion. Her eyes closed when her dress had been moved up. Katya’s finger hooked on the sides of her underwear and she pulled it down her legs. Trixie’s hands were planted on the wall, holding on for dear life, when she first felt Katya’s tongue against her center. Her legs spread by themselves, giving Katya more access. Her back arched, as she forcefully pushed herself against Katya’s mouth. She pressed her front hard against the wall, just because her upper half needed some attention as well.

Nobody had ever eaten her out like that.

Nobody had made her legs feel like rubber with simple touches like that.

Nobody had brought her so near an orgasm within the first few seconds like that.

She could have been softly moaning, she could have been screaming loudly, she didn’t care. Except that, when a particularly loud moan escaped her lips, suddenly something came to mind.

“Oh, my God. Kim!”

Katya smiled against her thigh, kissing it softly, and speaking against her skin. “Oh, so you wanna role play?”

“No, you stupid.” Trixie stood up straight, reluctantly moving away from her spot, away from Katya’s hot lips. “Kim is my roommate. I don’t know if she’s ho–” She couldn’t even finish her sentence when she fully looked at Katya, kneeled down right next to the front door, mouth and chin wet, both with saliva and what Trixie could only imagine was her own arousal. She bit her lower lip, her want increasing by the second. “You are so hot.”

Katya took Trixie’s extended hand and allowed her to pull her up. Katya let her take the lead as Trixie kissed her roughly one more time, forcing her to walk backwards and guiding her towards the bedroom. Their lips never parted until they reached the last door at the end of the small apartment.

Trixie walked inside and turned on the light on the bedside table. Suddenly they were surrounded by nothing but pink. The shade on the lamp was bright pink, bright enough to almost drown the different shades of the same color around the room. The pillows, the sheets, the comforter, and even the picture frames on the wall, were all pink.

Her observations stopped once Trixie entered her space again. “I want you so bad,” she whispered so low it barely reached Katya’s ear. But she heard it, and she took the invitation happily.

She reached down and took a hold of the hem of Trixie’s dress, pulling it up and above her head. With deft fingers she found the hooks of her bra and Trixie put her arms down so it could slide off of her. There she stood, one of the most amazingly beautiful girls she had ever seen before in all her naked glory. Her breasts were full, and her small waist provided the perfect contrast for her fleshy hips. She pushed Trixie on the bed, making her land softly against the mattress.

Without even thinking about it, she knelt down between her opened legs again. She could tell Trixie was not expecting to have sex that night, which turned Katya on even more. She ran her fingers through the slightly uneven pubic hair until she found her entrance. The first finger entered with ease, making Trixie’s hips buckle up to the touch. Katya moved it around in circles, preparing the girl for the second one, which she took without a problem. When the third finger found its rightful place inside of Trixie, Katya made sure her mouth paid attention to the delicate bundle of nerves as well.

Katya fucked her with her fingers and her mouth for what felt like an eternity. The scream-like moans falling out of Trixie’s lips were enough to make her feel close to the edge herself.

Just when she felt Trixie’s walls clenching around her fingers, everything stopped. Trixie pushed herself up, propping herself on her elbows. “Can I sit on your face?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Katya replied with a smile.

She stood up, removing her belt in the way. Her top found the floor right after, and Trixie helped her unzip her skirt and toss it to the side.

It was now her turn to lay her back on the mattress. Trixie’s thighs flanked her head and she couldn’t wait to have her again. She stretched her neck and gave her a quick lick. Trixie giggled and held onto the headboard, asking her to wait until she was ready. Katya couldn’t. She reached up and caressed Trixie’s breasts as her tongue entered her over and over. The mixture of sensations had Trixie reaching her orgasm almost immediately. Trixie’s legs gave out and she literally sat on Katya’s face, her thighs sending her to a blissful state of suffocation. Even that wasn’t enough to stop Katya, she continued licking her, sending electroshocks through her already sensitive body.

“I want to taste you,” Trixie said after a few seconds, her body was still recovering from the earth-shattering orgasm.

Katya didn’t protest. She saw how the girl started a trail of kisses down her body, dedicating extra time to her breasts. Nobody had to tell her, Katya knew Trixie had never been with another woman before, she could tell by the way she bit on her nipples, the way she unskillfully sucked on them. That was the reason why she paid close attention when Trixie’s face got lost between her legs. She wanted to see her reaction, which was just how she expected.

“You know, you don’t have to do it if you don’t like it,” Katya said with a reassuring smile.

Trixie’s face relaxed from its contorted state. “No, I do want to.”

No other word was spoken. Katya closed her eyes to the feeling of wet tongue and hot lips. Turned out the girl was pretty good at it. Her tongue went up and down and around, in patterns of a few seconds that already had Katya losing her mind. Her hands took a hold of Trixie’s hair, trying to find anything that could ground her to her Earthly surroundings. She truly felt as if she could touch the sky in that mere instant. It only took one hard suck from Trixie on her most sensitive spot to have Katya screaming out her name. Her hands pressing Trixie’s face against her core so she wouldn’t move from her spot.

As soon as she relaxed, Trixie moved up to lie down next to her. She wrapped an arm and a leg around her, and Katya had no energy to move her away.

“Will you stay the night?” Trixie asked, kissing her shoulder. Her eyes already closed from exhaustion.

Katya didn’t reply, because she couldn’t. She couldn’t stay the night. She waited until Trixie fell asleep to extract herself from her embrace. Katya found her clothes scattered around the floor and turned off the small lamp. Walking out of the room, she got dressed by the front entrance. When she put on her shoes, she spotted the pink thong she had rolled down Trixie’s legs and picked it up. She stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket as she exited the apartment, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.

End notes:

Thank you so much for reading, and giving this crazy story a chance. You seriously have no idea all things I have planned for you. Expect the unexpected. As always, would love to hear what you think.

[fumusdamnatorum]

Inspiration for Silas’s redesign, a TEDxTalk

((Because I’m in a mood to dodge all of my life responsibilities, I’d figure I detail pretty much the design process of Silas’s redesign up until now. 

The beginning:

About 3 beers in on a Friday night, after watching the vol 7 trailer (which got a meh overall) I decided that “Hey, with vol 7 coming up I’m gonna redo a complete revamp of Silas’s character.” Well, it was a bright fucking idea considering it was still when midterms were going on, but hey that didn’t stop me. I had enough notes to go on when I picked up the project again when things died down.

Visuals: 

The anchor of Silas’s visual is, you guessed it, his hat. I absolutely didn’t want to give him a hood again cause I don’t want him to be another generic self-insert OC the RP community may have seen one too many of. The helmet, while fully practical, doesn’t suit his character well in my opinion. He’s a ranged fighter and only deals with close fights if necessary. So, how did I reach the hat idea? The idea came from this comic by Centurii-Chan of Facebook fame (seriously check them out, their art is top tier): 

However, it wouldn’t be practical (or safe for work) to slap a tricorn on him and have him go on his merry way. For clothes, I was stuck for a long, long while. But I remembered an old adage where your gear should compliment your weapons. Thus I looked at the weapons Silas utilized waaaaay back in his earliest form: a lever action rifle and two single action revolvers (inspiration for weapons will be a separate post). After consuming spaghetti westerns, modern westerns (like Django Unchained and The Magnificent Seven remake), and videos of cowboy action shooters, I decided the best fit came in the form of a collared shirt, waistcoat, some pants, and a covert coat. The outer garment had to be long enough to cover his weapons, but not hinder his movement (ala No Capes). Thanks to Duke (the mun of @genocidin​ and numerous other blogs), I settled on having the good hunter from Bloodborne be a faceclaim (and got free icons out of it. Thanks homie OTL).

Personality and Portrayal:

Holy cannoli Batman was Silas’s personality all sorts of cringe in retrospect. Part of me is lowkey glad I pulled the trigger and deleted the old blog to make this one. Granted, lessons had to be learned that hard way, and boy did I learn. When I sat and tried to look for any source in how to portray Silas, it was difficult. I don’t think I fully nailed his character until recently actually….after I bit the bullet for a Disney+ account to watch The Mandalorian. Jon Faverau and his crew more or less put me on the set direction and kicked my ass to fly there in finding how to write Silas.  In The Mandalorian, the main character is very, very good at his job. However, there are numerous instances where he is hurt, where he falls down but still gets back up. That portrayal gives a humanizing side, at least to me. He is capable but also flawed trying to do right by him. 

The biggest takeaway and change is that I wanted that early Clint Eastwood-esque type of gunslinger you see in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly and incorporate what I learned from The Mandalorian. Silas isn’t a showman. He’s a bounty hunter. Fighting, hunting, and killing isn’t a spectacle or a show, but it’s a way of life. However, just because he’s experienced doesn’t mean he should be near invincible, and that was something I wanted to change as I feared that while writing my own OC, I forget that he is also a regular human being. Huntsmen and huntress in RWBY can die. They’re not omnipotent beings. They’re skilled fighters, but they’re also mortal. They have strengths and weaknesses, faults and flaws. They can have moments of happiness, sadness, inspiration and depression all the same.  And I think that’s something I forget to integrate into writing despite having them listed on his profile because I need a muse to tell a story; in turn, as a writer, I would pen it so that the odds would be ever so slightly in his favor. The impact of seeing him succeed beyond struggles is dampened significantly if he is able to waltz through hordes of Grimm, win fights, and get the girl (or girls since this is a multi-ship blog). There’s no character there, but just cookie cutters.

So yeah, thanks for coming to my TEDxTalk.))

[cowboyshit]

1, 5, 10 - with Christmas Catharsis and Hangman, 20, 25 for the fanfiction writer asks, please?

Thank you SO much babe!!!! ♥♥♥ LBR I love talking about my fanfiction akjsdkjsdkj 

( FANFICTION WRITER ASKS )

1: how old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?ohh, I was fourteen!! I only know/remember this because it was pirates of the caribbean fanfiction and it was literally the NIGHT after I got back from seeing it in the theaters lmao 

5: if you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?COWBOY AND THE MUSTANG!!!! HANDS. DOWN. Oh, there’s so many reasons tbh and I could go into an essay about why, but I’ll condense it down for this answer. The main reason is that I really, really enjoy writing horses in any capacity, but the second reason is that it’s become the story I always wanted to write. I always DREAMED about writing a romance story where horses played a large part and what I’ve come up with next for cowboy and the mustang is SO exciting and I am DYING to write it. so far, all four parts add up to 25k words according to ao3. last year I told myself I would finally stop stalling or doubting myself and write a romance novella that’s at least 50k words… and with what I have planned next, I think cowboy and the mustang just might be that novella. plus, writing about cowboy adam, writing adam bonding with horses, and writing adam as a single father to a little girl ajdfksdlksakmjdslksd I just really, genuinely love this story so, so much. It’s very near and dear to my heart and when other people tell me THEY enjoy it to it just…I can’t even begin to explain how much it means to me.

10: in Christmas Catharsis, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?honestly I had no alternative ending in mind! christmas catharsis, as the hangman gang knows, was a random inspiration I got two days before my smutmas fic was due to be posted. the story was one of those that just POURED out of me. it demanded to be written. I knew I wanted to keep it in the same day and write it (basically) moment-for-moment, because of how important their connection was. it’s supposed to be a magical, heavy, all-pressing weight pushing on them and forcing them closer and closer together despite all the reasons they may want to keep apart (particularly noelle). I knew I wanted to end with a little joke, just to help break how emotion-heavy the ride was, and I actually came up with adam’s stupid “oh I have plans srry haha sike my plans are with you!” joke about halfway through writing the ficlet itself.

20: are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?hmmm… none that spring up immediately to mind, but I know there are certain ones I wish I would have added a little more to.  maybe ‘the cowboy hat stays on’ I would have liked to have added more to?? sometimes I think if I could revisit that fic there’s a LOT I would rewrite.

25: have you ever cried whilst writing a story?okay… I know this is supposed to be about fanfiction, but… I have not yet cried when writing fanfiction (although my recent comfort fic got me a little bit when adam broke down) BUT just recently while writing with my best friend we wrote something that makes me full on SOB and I wish I could talk to people about. I had to take breaks when writing because I was crying so much and I haven’t even had the heart to go back and read it. It’s a poly trio, where the girl (my character) is in love with two brothers who are the president and vp of a 1% motorcycle gang. the three of them have been the best of friends for years, a perfect little family unit. my girl had previously confessed how she felt to both men and they decided that until she made up her mind which one she wanted to marry and be with, neither of them could have her. they don’t know about being poly at the moment. so anyways, in this chapter we just wrote, my girl and one of the guys broke down and caved to their attraction and started kissing. when they broke apart the guy thought that meant my girl chose him, but she said no. she still loved them BOTH equally and she could NOT have one without the other. well, on the club side of things, their peaceful town has been getting wild and there’s been a lot of death and danger close to home. the guy decides (he’s the president) that’s it. this isn’t safe. they’re all suffering and he’s afraid a target will come on her if anyone figures it out so he tells her… that’s it. he’s sending her away. for good. she’ll go and live her life and be happy and free of the club drama. and her heart fucking BREAKS. she full on breaks down sobbing and FUCK i ship these character soooo hard that it just… it hurts SO BAD. anyways, the vp brother comes home and finds his brother (the president) silently crying, runs into her room and finds her SOBBING and he just holds her and his brother comes in and tells him he’s sending her away. she wants them both and it’s not safe anymore. the vp brother breaks down SOBBING holding onto her begging his brother not to take her (he used to be addicted to drugs but he got clean thanks to the girl and he’s terrified he’ll have to go back to using once she’s gone). eventually they come to the conclusion that it is the best thing for her and she leaves them and fuck it HURTS. obviously they won’t be able to take it and a lot more drama is going to happen but EVENTUALLY they will be a secret poly trio and they will be HAPPY DAMMIT anyways if you’ll indulge me I’m gonna post a small part of it:

Leaving was going to keep her safe, but who was going to keep them safe?  Reagan squeezed tighter around Teddy and sobbed harder into his chest, knowing there were no answers she’d like.  She knew if something happened to them, even knowing there would be nothing she could have done if she was here, Reagan would feel guilty for every breath she took that they couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t just her whose heart was breaking.  It was all of them.  All three of their hearts were shattered, forced apart.  The only difference was Reagan could be sent away without anyone following her, without the entire club falling to pieces because of it.  Teddy and Eli were still going to have to be here, where reality had turned scary, and they’d be in danger’s way every single day.

It both hurt worse, knowing they’d be hurting, and comforted her, because at least she wasn’t crazy to feel as heartbroken as she did.

“I wish I could take you both with me,” she said, pathetically, muffled into Teddy’s chest as the three of them just held each other in the silence that chased their cries.  She found that a piece of her hated that the first (and likely only) time she had them both, wrapped into their joined embrace, was for this reason.  She hated everything that’d happened, but most of all she hated that she was powerless to change it.

That this had to be their answer.

Teddy kissed her, and Reagan pushed back into the kiss as hard and needy as she felt, so he’d always remember not only what she’d said, but how much she’d meant it.  She was never, ever going to stop loving him.  She could leave no room for doubt.

Then Eli kissed her.  Feverish.  Desperate. As if he wanted to put his lips everywhere and know what every piece of her tasted like before he lost her forever. Reagan tumbled into Eli’s passion, wrapped up in him and dizzy by the time Teddy called him back.  Her hands fell out of his and instantly felt achy with cold.  She clasped them together, and her lips pressed and quivered, and the view of them blurred and danced, and their home behind her, and the life she’d always thought of as the perfect one.

“I…”  she didn’t know what she could say that’d already been said.  There wasn’t anything.  She just didn’t want to admit the time had come.  She needed to leave.  That was all that was left.  Her tongue swept her dry lips and tasted their tears and their kisses.  She sniffed and forced herself to turn away, reaching to wipe at her cheeks and walking too quickly to the driver’s side of the car.

For Teddy, Reagan made herself get into that car.  She always believed Teddy was right and there was no better proof of her reverence to his word than her acceptance of his decree, even if it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.  Reagan threw no more fits.  Reagan didn’t try and argue around the solution.  She reached up, adjusting the review mirror, swallowed back the tears at them in the sight of it, and pushed her boot down on the gas pedal, driving away and trying not to think about how much smaller they were getting as she did.

[mischiefandspirits]

Iron Legion (2/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, AO3, and Fanfiction

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

Boy Wonders, Part 1

Tony Stark was twenty-six when his fourth and fifth children were born.

The first time he met Mary Parker, she was on her husband’s arm at a conference Tony was speaking at. The second time he met her, she was relaxing back against the counter of his hotel’s bar watching her husband slip off with a blonde.

“Marriages work out better if you just let each other do what or who they want. Communication and all that,” she’d explained with a shrug and a smirk when he joined her for a drink.

He didn’t remember most of what happened after that, just a few fuzzy memories of fruity drinks and dropping onto the bed in his room with the woman.

When he woke up, it was to an empty room.

He’d shrugged it off, it wasn’t the first time. And when he checked his computer and noticed someone had gotten through his firewalls, he shrugged that off too. It also wasn’t the first time, and she, like the others, hadn’t even noticed the actual security on the computer, let alone gotten past it.

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

Victoria Richards was a feisty woman who Tony had met in a club after a presentation at Tennessee Tech. He’d been deep in his cups when they met, trying to distract himself from the recent loss of Edwin Jarvis.

Then she’d come up, dirty-blonde hair falling loosely onto bare shoulders. His eyes had immediately landed on swinging hips barely covered in daisy dukes.

“How ‘bout a dance, cowboy?” she’d giggled, dropping her cowboy hat onto his head.

“Just a dance?” he’d asked.

She’d winked and grabbed his hand, tugging him up to his feet and nearly falling over in the process.

They’d both been way too drunk to think about being cautious.

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

In the two years Happy had been working for Tony, he’d seen a lot of women who swore they were carrying or had carried his boss’s child. It wasn’t a far fetched story by any means; he’d well earned the playboy title. That didn’t mean any of them were telling the truth, of course. Half of them had never met Tony, and those that did gave up at the announcement they wouldn’t even be getting anywhere near him until they passed the paternity tests.

Victoria Richards was different than all the ones that came before.

First off, she came directly to him instead of marching into some Stark Industries building or another and asking for Tony.

“Sir, you work with Mr. Stark, right?”

Happy turned to see a young woman staring at him with arms crossed. His first thought was reporter, but she was wearing a baggy flannel shirt and torn up jeans with her hair up in a frumpy ponytail. Not exactly the usual flirty or professional look reporters digging around into his boss gravitated towards.

“I work for him.”

“You his driver?” she asked, glancing at the car.

“Bodyguard,” he corrected. Technically, he was the one that drove Tony everywhere when he didn’t decide to race Happy, but that didn’t change his actual job title.

“Then you work with him,” she said with a shrug, as if it was that simple. She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and shoved it into his hand. “Give that to him, would you.”

Happy didn’t respond, too distracted by how distended her stomach looked with her arms down.

Her arms crossed again and he looked up to meet her glare. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can shove it where the sun don’t shine. I ain’t looking for money. Just wanna be sure that when my baby asks why they ain’t got no daddy, they can hate him for not being there instead of me for not trying.”

“And the child support?” Happy scoffed.

The woman’s eyes narrowed even more and she turned her nose up at him. “Like I said, I ain’t lookin’ for money,” she growled and he noticed her accent grew stronger in her anger. “I was raised on a farm, I can take care of myself and my baby on my own. I’m only here because I ain’t gonna lie and tell my baby I tried when I didn’t. I don’t actually expect anything from him.” As if to prove her point, she turned on her heel and marched off. “Just give him the damn letter.”

Happy glanced down at the note and opened it. He quickly read it through to see that it said much the same as she’d already told him, though with the addition of her name and number as well as a note that if Tony could “be man enough” to actually want to see the kid, he could, but if he tried to take them away from her, she’d do something that would really cut into Tony’s playboy lifestyle.

The bodyguard sighed and ran over to the woman. “Hey, I’m sorry, but it’s Stark Industries policy that anyone attempting to speak to Mr. Stark,” he waved the letter, “in any form, about a supposed child has to first allow for a paternity test to be administered before any contact will be allowed.”

He almost thought Victoria would just keep on walking, but instead she turned to him with a huff. “I ain’t paying to have a bunch of doctors stick all their needles in me and my baby.”

Happy blinked at her. “It should only be one needle, in your arm, and Stark Industries will cover the costs. It will all be done in house.”

She stared at him for a moment then shrugged. “Alright then, my flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow anyway. Lead the way.”

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

“Come on, Happy, you should have gotten a Happy Meal!”

Ignoring his boss’s joking, Happy accept the bag of food from the woman in the drive-through and pulled away. He drove a few blocks before parking and handing Tony his cheeseburger, fries, and drink.

He kept an eye on their surroundings as he started eating his own hamburger, only letting himself be distracted for a moment when he looked down to grab his ringing phone. “Hogan.”

“Mr. Hogan? This is Dr. Arzt. I’m calling in regards to the test you requested be done for Victoria Richards. The results are in.”

“And?” he asked.

“They were positive.”

Happy choked.

“What’s up, Hap?” Tony asked as he coughed, leaning over the seat.

“Are you sure?” he asked, ignoring his boss.

“Quite. I ran the tests thrice just to be sure, given what a positive would mean. All came out the same.”

In Happy’s defense, he was a little distracted, so he can be forgiven for not remembering what happens when his boss gets ignored.

“What would a positive mean?” Happy heard both from inside the car and coming out of his phone.

He glanced back to see Tony with his phone to his ear. The billionaire gave him a wink.

“M-Mr. Stark! I’m sorry, I didn't know you were on the line!”

“He wasn’t before,” Happy growled.

“I had to know who was making my Happy sad-y,” Tony chuckled. “So, who is this?”

“I’m Dr. Arzt, Mr. Stark. I’m the on-call doctor at -”

“Why are you seeing a doctor?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. “And why are they running tests? If you die on me, Happy, you’re fired.”

“Thank you, Dr. Arzt. I hope I don’t have to remind you what you’ll be facing if this gets out.”

“Of course not, Mr. Hogan, Mr. Stark. If you have any other questions, let me know.”

“We will. Goodbye.” Happy hung up the phone and Tony copied him with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s going on?”

“A woman came up to me yesterday. I brought her in and we… initiated Code Arthur.”

“Code Arthur?” Tony asked, but Happy caught him pushing up his glasses. He recognized the code.

“That was the doctor with the results,” he said, not humoring his boss.

Tony sighed and slouched down. “Positive, huh?”

“Apparently.”

“So who’s the lucky lady?”

“Victoria Richards.” Happy pulled the letter out of his pocket.

“Never heard of her.”

“Well, considering what she’s carrying right now, you’ve definitely met,” he snorted, handing the paper over.

Tony frowned at it. “How much she asking for? Or is she in it for the fame?”

“None, and no.” Tony’s eyes widened. “Read it.”

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

“Just a minute,” Tori called, adjusting the blouse she’d just been about to take off.

As she made for the door, she swore under her breath. Heaven help her, if it was Jackson Willis from down the street again, she’d be pulling out the shotgun.

She pulled the door open with as pleasant a smile as she could manage after working two extra shifts at the diner while four months pregnant. The smile immediately fell away.

She should have brought the shotgun.

“Ms. Richards.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.”

Tori crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Why are you here?”

“I got your letter.”

“Clearly. So you wanted to turn me away in person,” she snorted with a smirk.

He blinked at her then chuckled. “Right, you’re daisy dukes from Tennessee.”

“Why am I not surprised that’s how you remember the woman you’ve slept with?”

He just shrugged. “I like to get around. And it’s not like the ladies I’m with are the kind to expect me to stick around after. Or if they are, it’s not because of my winning personality.”

“True.” Tori had only agreed to go back to his room because she’d been looking for some fun and time away from her pushy cousins. She hadn’t even known who he was until the next morning when she’d woken up to a note giving her permission to order anything she wanted from room service.

She hadn’t taken him up on the offer. Her parents raised her better than that.

Stark opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a loud shout. “Hey Vicky, you okay over there?”

Tori shot the tall man a glare from where he was standing on the side of the road. “Get lost, Willis!”

“This guy bothering you?” Jackson asked, ignoring her and stepping forwards, eyeing Stark.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the billionaire. “Get in here before I decide to shoot him.”

Stark smiled and strutted in while she gave Jackson a death glare. “Get off my property, Willis and stop calling me Vicky!” She slammed the door and turned to her unwanted guest. “Mind yourself, Stark. You’re only in here because I’m sick of that hovering act he’s been playing since the town found out about the baby. Now, why’re you here? If you think I’m going to the press you can relax. I don’t want none of that nonsense near me, let alone my baby.”

Stark shook his head. “Yeah, I got that from the letter. You don’t want anything to do with me or Stark Industries. Understandable.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then why?”

When Stark started fiddling with his sunglasses, Tori felt the urge to yell at him that sunglasses weren’t allowed inside.

God help her, she was already turning into her mother.

“Look, let’s be real. I’m well aware that I’d be an awful father. But -”

Tori scowled and wrapped an arm protectively around her stomach. “If you think you’re taking them, I’ll remind you of the letter.”

Stark immediately started shaking his head. “Woah, hold on. No, nope, no way. Didn’t I just say I’d be an awful father? Horrible really. Terrible! Maybe not the worst, but up there. Down there? Anyways, no, I’m not going to take them from you. That would be a bad idea and I only have good ones.”

Tori snorted and Stark relaxed, smiling once more.

“No, I’m not going to take them, but I do want to help out.”

“Help out?” she asked and despite herself, she felt herself relaxing too. “Like I told your buddy, I don’t want your money. I can take care of the kid on my own.”

Stark gave a nod. “I’ve no doubt, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make it easier on you. I’ve done the research on the flight over. Single mothers tend to work long hours to make ends meet unless they’ve got financial backing from elsewhere or a really high paying job. I can give you either of those or both even.”

“I’m not gonna let you spoil my kid, Stark.”

“Not spoiled, did I say spoiled? No, I was spoiled and look how I turned out!” Stark mimed gagging and a few giggles spilled out of her. “No, just enough to make sure you are both taken care of.”

“Stark -”

“Look… Can I call you V? Vic? I know not Vicky, but Ms. Richards is way too formal and Victoria is way too long.”

“Just call me Tori,” she sighed.

“Right, sure, Tori. Like I said, single mom’s work a lot. I grew up with a parent that spent more time working than parenting, wouldn’t wish that on any kid, especially not one I brought into the world. I won’t force my money on you. You tell me to leave and never return, I will. I’d like to do something though, even if it’s just… What would be the typical child support around here?”

Tori gave him a blank look.

“Right, I can have someone look into that. Or a job, one that would give you both good hours and good pay. I could do that too if you don’t want money.”

“I’m not moving and I’m sure you don’t have anything out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Money it is then?”

She snorted. “You’re never going to let me say no are you?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, tell me to leave and I’ll leave. I just haven’t heard you tell me to leave.”

She eyed him up and down then nodded. “I don’t need a ton of money, but I wouldn’t mind not having to work multiple shifts. You give me what any of these idiots around here could give me and not a penny more.” He opened his mouth and she put up her hand. “No, my turn. That’s all the money I want from you, but I also want health insurance, the good kind. And with dental and vision too.” Because she wasn’t letting Stark spoil her kid, but she also wasn’t letting them not get the care they might need just because she couldn’t foot a bill. “For both of us,” she added on because she also wasn’t leaving them alone for the same reason. “And college.”

“Of course, they’ll have a full-ride into any college they want!” Stark agreed before she could continue.

“No,” she crossed her arms again. “They’ll have a full-ride into any college they can get into on their own merits. I won’t have you bribing their way through school. I want them to do well, but I want them to be the one doing it.”

“Of course they’ll do well, they’re a St- They’ve got my genes.”

That… was a good point, admittedly. Hadn’t she read that Stark’s father had been a bit of a genius too when she’d been looking into the man? Maybe it was in the genes. Could her child be as smart as him? More so? “Either way, their own merits. And if they don’t want to go to college, or if they’re not as smart as you’re expecting, you better keep your mouth shut about it. You be proud even if they’re destined just to be a pig farmer, you hear me.”

Stark blinked at her. “Would it really matter? It’s not like I’ll be…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely around.

“Like hell you won’t,” she hissed, marching up to him. “You want to help out in their life, then you be in their life. That’s my next condition. I won’t have you just being an ATM. I’m not expecting you to move in or something, but you visit your kid. On birthdays, Christmases, and the like, you’re here. And phone calls in between. You got me?”

Stark was actively gaping at her. “You… You’d want me here?”

“No, I’m telling you that if you’re going to be in my life, let alone theirs, you’re going to at least try not to be a complete donkey about it. Now, do we have an agreement?”

Stark looked at the hand she held out like it was a rattlesnake, but took it. “Alright, I agree to your terms. For the record, that last one was a terrible idea on your part.”

“We’ll see.”

[mattholicguilt]

jessica’s x-men spotify playlists (part 1)

hey y’all i said i was gonna share some of my x-men playlists so here they are! these are ones i made a couple years ago, and then i’ll make another post for more recent ones. 

Pairings and Relationships:

You Ain’t Got No Home, Sugah - angsty rogue/gambit mix based on her leaving him in antarctica after the trial. ft. cowboy junkies, modest mouse, mumford & sons

No More Sad Face - kurt and rogue are brother and sister and they love and support each other. ft. marvin gaye, carole king, the beach boys

Depends Which Day of the Week It Is - rogue/gambit, ft. the civil wars, regina spektor, she & him

Couple of Dudley Do-Rights Making The World Safe for Whatever it is This Week - jean/scott, ft. florence + the machine, phoenix, sia

It’s Just Thoughts - scott and emma’s affair, ft. paul simon, the killers, jason derulo

Characters:

Hullo, Kitten - for ororo’s transformation from wind goddess to punk rocker. ft. donna summer, pat benatar, the runaways

I’m Not That Crazy After All - bishop. there’s lots of showtunes and drake on here. 

Supergirl Meets Veronica Lodge - monet st. croix, loml. (i mistakenly thought jubes was the first one to call her supergirl-meets-veronica-lodge but i think it was actually rictor lmao.) beyonce, avril, lorde

Everybody Can Relax, Gambit Has Returned - remy lebeau being a suave dumbass. hugh boynton, eagles, kenny rogers

Tell Me Which O’ The House Rules I Broke This Time - marrow aka sarah. i literally don’t know what happened to her but i sure liked her in xmen v2. fleetwood mac, tegan and sara, st. vincent

Stars and Garters - i love hank mccoy and you can’t stop me. rolling stones, fats domino, etta james

Still The Cutest - bobby drake. updated after he came out. simple plan, spose, backstreet boys

You Mean, ‘Cause I’m So Smart? - kitty pryde showed up to mutant school wearing a pink hat, matching pink blazer and a bedazzled shirt that said “BITCH” what an icon. kimya dawson, avril lavigne, the veronicas

The Real Slim Shady - cyclops was right! the fray, foster the people, taylor swift

You’d Be Surprised What I’ll Do If I Have To - emma frost has done nothing wrong, ever, in her life. marina, paramore, rihanna. (apparently “blank space” is on here twice and i’m not changing it.)

Ah Know Better - rogue will kick your ass. she’ll kick her own ass. blondie, regina, jaymay

[lil-loucifer]

a l l t h e o c q u e s t i o n s

S p a r k s  w h y

Send me a number and I’ll tell you about:

1: The most recent OC I’ve made

Fuck uhh probably these two characters I made up based on one of those datapoint-only stories in Horizon: Zero Dawn (one of the few times I felt spurred to write a fanfic this year lmao)

2: An early OC I remember making

Would you believe me if I said I made a Naruto OC

His name was like “Rei” or something and he had a sword and specialized in illusion-type jutsu (I never really learned any of the technical terms)

3: An OC I’ve never used for anything

All of them?????

I never really “write” any of my projects lmao

But uhhh, one that I have literally done nothing for is Jasper Morris, he’s kinda… something??? Not really sure at the moment, but he hunts monster-thingies in San Francisco

4: An OC whose story I’ve got all planned (or even written)

Those two OCs from the first question, their story was already written in the game, I’d just have to take liberties with the details

5: An OC I love

Dante Seraphim (That’s not really his surname). He’s this guy who was brought up to join a secret society of soldiers dedicated to serving Heaven and fighting demons and shit, but due to some “ancient prophecy bullshit” and his boyfriend’s machinations, he winds up getting exiled from that faction and hunted down by his former friends (it’s very action movie-like)

6: An OC I love to hate 

Arthur Morgenstern, the father of one of my favorite OCs. He’s generally a piece of shit. 

7: An OC I love… reluctantly

Daniel, the guy Dante from Question #5 dated. He tried to spur a rebellion within the faction he and Dante served, but due to some lore bullshit regarding Dante, Daniel was left blameless and Dante was exiled in his stead.

8: Two or more OCs who are connected (and how)

Faith, Wolfgang and Enoch are the three Branwen Children, a kind of Moirae that are borne of the eldest God of Death. Together, they oversee the death of gods, ensuring that all immortal deities meet their end when they should. 

Faith is in charge of overseeing the fates of all the gods in the world. She makes sure they all complete their stories; their reigns and their downfalls. 

Wolfgang is, begrudgingly, Faith’s assistant. The immortal world is a vast place, one that one soul couldn’t ever watch over alone. So, he handles surveillance, making sure that every deity plays their part, and nothing more. 

And when the gods try to rebel, when they grow too self-absorbed in their own “brilliance” they believe they should never die? They send in Enoch, the Reaper. Enoch is the most active of the Three Children, and the only one of them who has actually killed gods. Her role is to slay any deity that chooses not to die, which, admittedly, doesn’t happen often. Enoch is also the most rebellious of the Three Children, being the youngest. She actively lives in the mortal world, choosing to live amongst the puny mortals whose watchers she is sworn to slay. Enoch was actually the first sibling to give herself a name, for her convenience in the mortal world.

Given their elusive positions, the Branwens are more or less omnipresent in my fictional worlds, and are a prominent (albeit rarely-mentioned) part of a larger shared universe I’ve been writing. 

9: An OC I made to fit into another universe

Wayland Smith

10: A universe I made to fit my OCs

For the guy I’m gonna talking about in question #13, I made a post-apocalyptic setting that is set maybe 50-100 years after a world-ending nuclear war. 

11: An OC based off part of myself

I kinda-sorta have an OC that’s basically Sitcom!Me with exaggerated traits, like his catch phrase or whatever is just “I can give about three fucks about anything at any given time” and he’s hella apathetic but he actually cares a lot and he’s just too tired and has weird ways to show it

12: An OC based off part of someone I met

Aurelio Morgenstern’s appearance is lowkey based off an old friend of mine. 

13: An OC inspired by something completely unexpected

Okay so get this:

I have an OC who’s part of a lost order dedicated to maintaining peace in an apocalyptic wasteland--through fear. To cultivate that kind of fear, this order would style themselves after Death; the Grim Reaper, specifically. They wore all black and wielded scythes, as well as commanding a fierce arsenal of magic and custom firearms.

But I didn’t think of that shit at the time. You know what I thought up? The aesthetic. Black clothes and a wide-brimmed hat for keeping out the sun. 

Especially the hat.

You wanna know WHY THE HAT?

Because I was waiting in line outside the DMV on a bright, sunny-ass day, and I started daydreaming with the thought “Wow, I could really do with a cowboy hat.” 

14: The roughest backstory I’ve given an OC

There was this character I made, and he’s a bi, trans man who grew up in a really homophobic/transphobic house with an abusive.... everyone, really. He didn’t do anything about it until about a year after graduating high school, when he moved in with a family friend who was actually a decent person. 

15: The least painful backstory I’ve given an OC

My Hogwarts Mystery character was raised by a loving pair of parents who started to keep him on a tighter leash after his brother, Jacob, went missing. 

16: The most difficult OC for me to write (and why!)

All of them?????

I can’t write????????

17: The easiest OC for me to write (and why!)

Lua the Crow, purely because everything they do is more or less whatever affectionate thing I have on mind.

18: The OC I’d most like to fight

Lua because they’d go easy on me

19: The OC I’d most like to befriend

Francis Pendleton, because he’s a really chill dude who’d probably be a great father figure or something

20: The OC I’d probably have a crush on

Uhh this superhero OC I made up, her hero name is “Morningstar.” She just kinda has that kind of personality, I guess??

21: The OC most likely to end up in a wacky [freeze frame][record scratch] “you’re probably wondering how I got here” scenario

A currently-unnamed demon hunter OC who lives in San Francisco, and that moment is how he wound up dating Possibly Satan. 

22: An OC who acts as an antagonist

Samuel Eldest, a cult leader (or something) who clashes with Aurelio Morgenstern when he brings a new, demonic force into Aurelio’s territory. 

23: An OC who acts as a hero

My mcfucking superhero OCs???

24: An OC who acts as a supporting character

Adelina, Enoch Branwen’s very mortal girlfriend. 

25: An OC I’ve changed a LOT

Dante Seraphim

Lemme tell you he’s been through a lot of changes--started off as personified Death’s son, one who was hella 2000′s goth and was literally called “Lucifer Crescent,” THEN he became part of an angel/demon war and was renamed “Dante,” but he and several other kids took on the names of dead Angels to carry on an ancient tradition of passing on their power, and NOW he’s part of that second story, but heavily revised in that it’s no longer in a fantasy world and they now wage a shadow war across a low fantasy environment. 

26: An OC that I’m still working on

That Reaper guy from question #13

27: Someone else’s OC that I really admire

A friend’s self-insert OC named “Belle the Reaper” and the audacity they have to ship this character with their goddess of time. 

28: A common trait or pattern in my OCs

Sarcastic Angsty White Bois™

29: Something that I haven’t really explored with any of my OCs

Real social issues because I don’t know shit and will most likely get something fucked up

30: [make your own OC-related question and send it to me!]

??????????

[90sgrungewriter]

1. Untitled - Eddie Vedder

Status: Unedited

“Come on, you’ll be able to meet our new singer! The dude is a fucking beast when he gets up there. You promised you’d be at our first show and you bailed, now’s your chance to make it up to ol’ Stoney!” The long-haired man ruffled your hair while you tried swatting his hand away, rolling your eyes as you sat your paint brush and tray down on the small table to your left. You stood up and glared at him.

“Go fuck yourself. I had come back late from my class, you know I felt bad about that!” You spoke loudly. You didn’t understand why it mattered so much that you were there to begin with. Stone Gossard was a popular guy.

You and him had been friends for years, along with Jeff Ament. Since grade school, you guys were the three musketeers. You often sit back and think about those days, and where you’s all are now. It was awesome that the friendship was still strong as ever, even in your twenties. While they had chose the musical way, you leaned more towards art and painting. Not that you weren’t musically inclined, in fact you were just as advanced as Stone on guitar, if not more. But for some reason it just didn’t compare to the way you felt when your paint brush stroked across the surface. That was your thing. 

It was a Saturday afternoon, you finally had a day off. You had been painting all day, Tom Petty blasting out your record player. Then Stone came in the picture, begging you to attend his Mookie show. They had recently gotten a new singer, some guy from California. You had heard the infamous demo tape, and he did indeed have the voice of an angel. But its not what you wanted to do tonight. To attend a sweaty show crowded with drunk people didn’t sound very appealing. You wanted some alone time, to just do your thing, but the guilt from ditching his last show still weighed heavy on your heart. 

Yes, Stone could be annoying as fuck, but he was still your friend. Almost family. It felt that way anyway. His parents had always treated you like their own, they were so kind. You knew you had to go tonight.

“The guys miss you, they haven’t seen you in forever. You’ve been so busy. Jeff would be happy as all fucking hell if you were there. Please?” He gave his doe-eyed stare and you just turned away and sighed.

“Alright Stone. You got me. I’ll be there-” You were interrupted when he engulfed you in a bear hug, your face squished up against his chest. He was wearing a navy blue sweater with black shorts and his dark boots. He smelled like cigarettes and mint. He had on his Dallas Cowboys hat with a bandanna underneath. He pulled away, a wide smile across his lips his hands rest on your upper arms tightly. 

“Thanks Dani! We’ll pick you up around 7. Be ready!” He kissed your cheek and with that, left your small apartment. You chuckled to yourself as you turned back to your painting. 

“You’re welcome Stone.” You smiled softly, and brushed the wet paint on to the canvas.

---------

It was currently 6:30 and you were touching up the last bits of your painting. You knew the guys would be here to pick you up soon, so you decided against cleaning shit up. That could wait.

Instead, you made your way to your bathroom and washed what you could of the paint off you. After that, you brushed your teeth and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your short hair that ran just below your jawline was a bit matted, but didn’t look terrible so you just let it be. You had no makeup on, not that you even owned any, and you didn’t quite care. Sure you had breakouts sometimes, but covering that up wasn’t going to make you feel better about yourself. Right now though, that wasn’t the case, thankfully. 

You went to your bedroom and quickly changed into your dark, ripped denim overalls and paired it with your black Chili Peppers t-shirt. Just as you were putting on your socks you heard your front door open.

“Honey we’re home!” A male voice yelled. Jeff.

Footsteps approached your room and that infectious smile stood in your doorway. 

“Hey Jeff. New hat?” you questioned standing up, observing. He was an avid fan of quirky hats and you loved it. This hat was pink and huge. He grinned and grabbed it with his hand, placing it on top of your head. You glanced in the mirror and giggled. You looked pretty fucking goofy. 

“Yes mam! Thrift store down the road from here. They got some pretty wicked stuff in there, man. You should check it out!” He stated enthusiastically and threw his arm around your shoulder. You smiled at the touch.

You slipped on your black boots and the two of you made your way outside, talking stupid shit like always. He led you to the truck they had been using since the good Love Bone days. It was big enough to put all the gear in and it had some value, you figured they would never part ways with it. 

There was loud music coming from within the truck, and you had assumed all the guys were in there but as you looked, it was only Mike, whom occupied the drivers seat. He made his way out and around over to you.

“Hey you! Where have you been hiding? Its been a while.” He asks teasingly as he wraps his arms around you. You wrapped yours around his waist equally as tight. 

Mike and you were pretty close, Stone introduced you two when you were about 15 years old. He was the one who practically taught you to play guitar. Out of the whole band, you felt like you could relate to Mike the most. He shared your quiet-like features, and definitely understood your anxiety issues. It was something you really appreciated and you enjoyed his company. It always made you happy to see these boys and you would always consider yourself lucky to have them in your life.

“I know, school has been stressing me out to the max lately.” You said as you pulled away and made your way to the back of the truck while he went back for his drivers seat. You were quickly stopped though, before you could even hop in.

“Ladies sit up front, don’t be silly.” Stone teased as he pushed you to the passenger side door that was wide open. 

“How chivalrous of you, Gossard. I thank you.” You spoke heartily. 

“I am! Whatever the fuck that means.” You laughed aloud and sat in your seat.

Next thing you guys were in  the parking lot of the club.

“I’m gonna grab a beer. That cool?” You looked at them both. Jeff was opening the back doors to the vehicle to grab his gear. 

“Yeah, if you see any of the guys in there tell them to come grab there shit.” You nodded in response and smiled. He winked and started grabbing his stuff.

You made your way inside and looked around. It wasn’t that bad, but you knew by the end of the night this place would be way more packed than it was now. But maybe some time with your friends was what you needed.

Before you could even find the bartender you spot Stone, so you  just decided to make your way over there first. He sport the exact same clothing as before, which didn’t really surprise you. 

“Well look who decided to actually show up tonight! Miss Dani, we are honored to have your presence at our second Mookie Blaylock show!” Stone spoke sarcastically, witty smile plastered on his face. You shot him a look. He was with Matt Cameron from Soundgarden and some guy you’ve never seen before. You could only assume that was Eddie. He was cute, his blue eyes gaze  into yours for just a moment. You felt a positive energy radiate from him and it made you smile.

“Yes Stone, there’s absolutely no where else I’d rather be on earth right now.” You shot back, with a lot of sass. Matt laughed.

“Hey Dani.” Matt said to you. You waved your hand and smiled wide.

You turned to the curly haired man and held your hand out. “ Hi, you must be Eddie?” He smiled small and nodded, hand enveloping yours gently. “Im Danica. But most people just call me Dani. Nice to finally put a face to the voice! That was some demo tape bud, you got a beautiful style.” And that was the honest truth. His voice was literally liquid gold on that tape. He looked down, face flushing, small smile on his lips and his brows furrowed. He looked like he did not do well with compliments so to help him out you decided to just change the subject. The last thing you wanted to do was make this guy uncomfortable here. He was probably sick of gloomy Seattle and missing the beaches of sunny California already. You wondered how long he had been here for anyway? You pulled your hand back and let it fall to your side.

“Jeff is out by the truck and wants you guys to go get your shit.” You punched his shoulder. He grabbed it in fake hurt. You flipped him the bird and tried not to crack a smile. But that proved to be too hard.

“Yep, lets go Ed!” He chirped and made his way toward the entrance. Ed smiled lightly at you. You took it as an awkward thank you for the compliment you gave him and you returned the smile. 

“I’m going to grab a beer.” you stated to Matt as Eddie was trying to catch up to Jeff.

“I’m with you, man.” Matt spoke and you guys made your way to the bartender for a cold one. 

You had spoken to Matt on numerous occasions as Mother Love Bone (as well as Green River) have played quite a few shows with Soundgarden. He was a genuine guy, a bit quiet, but so were you. And you appreciated the silence sometimes. It was never awkward. 

You guys drank your beers and spoke about upcoming Soundgarden shows. You hadn’t seen them play in a few months as things had been very hectic for them, so you were a bit excited as you learned they would be playing tonight too.

After the boys got their shit together, everyone watched Mudhoney perform an awesome show. Mark was a cool guy, and you were glad that he had a band of his own now. They were great. You all drank your beer and smoked cigarettes and laughed.There were a few joints passed around too so you were in an extremely good mood.  People were definitely starting to crowd in.

You couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at Eddie every now and then. He didn’t say much, so people were always trying to get him to talk. You felt a bit bad, so maybe you could try and get him away from everything for at least a few minutes. 

While the guys were distracted by Steve’s loud solo, your hand made its way to Eddie’s shoulder and you squeezed gently, trying not to startle him. You didn’t think it worked very well in your favor, as his head quickly turned to find you. His crystal eyes bore into your own hazel ones, face inches away. You didn’t mean to be that close to him and you hoped it didn’t make things weird. You were trying to get closer so you could talk to him without the others really paying attention. Not to mention it was super loud. You also almost forgot that Jeff’s hat was still on your head as it was just grazing Eddie’s forehead. You took a mental note to give it back to him before he goes up there.

Lucky for you, it didn’t seem to make Eddie too uncomfortable, but you did notice his face change. His brows furrowed as he pursed his lips, his cheeks were a light shade of pink and his eyes darted down to your lips for half a second. It happened so fast you almost wondered if it had really happened. But you were pretty certain it did.

“Wanna dip? We could go have a smoke outside? You look like you could step out for a few minutes.” You removed your hand as you spoke. 

He merely nodded and you both stood up, leaving your empty bottles by your seats. Looking around, everyone was still just focusing on the awesome show that the Mudhoney guys were giving the crowd. 

You made your way to the entrance, Eddie following behind you. Once you’s were outside you each lit one and smoked in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable and you were glad about that. 

After a few minutes, you were halfway done your cig and you thought it was time to start up a small conversation, but he spoke first.

“Isn’t that Jeff’s hat?” He rose an eyebrow in curiosity. You giggled and nodded.

“Yeah, he put it on my head before we left my place and apparently its still up there.” You pointed up at it with your index finger. He laughed softly and took another drag.

“So how are you liking Seattle so far? Everything you thought it would be?” you took a puff, eyeing him. He looked sexy smoking.

He chuckled quietly, eyes glued to the ground. You had a feeling you were making it a bit awkward, but you were here now and nothing you could do. Just let it play out.

“I guess. It could be worse, right? I mean, the people are pretty cool.” He looked up at you, you observed his beautiful cheekbones. You noticed you were probably staring too long when he looked away and shook his head.

“I mean, its great.” He stuttered sounding a bit nervous. “I’m sorry, I’m insulting you aren’t I? Fuck, that’s not what I wanted to do. Its just-” You interrupted his rambling with a light chuckle.

“Don’t worry dude, I could give less of a shit what you think of the city I guess. Just trying to make a bit of talk. You miss your family right? I mean I don’t blame you. I would too.” You spoke evenly. He smiled slightly and took the last puff of his smoke and tossed it to the pavement. 

“Yeah.” Was all he said. 

You finished your smoke as well and put it out. You both still just sat there in silence staring at the street ahead of you. It was a bit busy, but nothing to crazy for a Saturday night.

Then, Eddie broke the silence this time. “Uh - Stone tells me you’re an artist?” You turned to find him already looking at you with a hint of curiosity. 

“I guess. I mean, if you wanna call it that.” You smiled.

“I’d like to see your art sometime.” He said quietly, almost like he didn’t know what he was saying, like it just flowed naturally out of his mouth. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You stated as you stood up. He got the idea and stood up as well, as you both made your way back inside the dingy nightclub.

[charlienozaki]

I enjoyed your rankings very much, would you mind doing one for their kindness and also for their fashion sense XD?

Thanks! Okay, sure! Though I think, for kindness especially, my answers will be entirely subjective, but I’ll give it a go! 

(Disclaimer: This got long, so if you read it all, then you get—nothing in return. 😂  But thanks for doing so!)

Okay, so, kindness. It’s kind of difficult to rank this tbh, because I think, for some of the Straw Hats, their expression of kindness differs a lot when they’re dealing with strangers versus people they care about. I’ll try and consider both. And in the interest of keeping the word count below 10,000, I’m going to stick their fashion ratings at the end of each little entry. xD I’ll include my favorite outfit of theirs too. 

1 - Sanji - This one’s tough, and I have a hard time choosing between Chopper and Sanji, but I think I’m gonna have to give it to Sanji by a small margin. It’s kind of expected, given everything that’s been said in the manga recently, but honestly, out of everyone, he’s the most likely to help someone out, even if they’re an enemy, as he’s proven. Of course, there’s the whole male enemy versus female enemy thing too, but he’s always gonna feed anyone, no matter what, and we’ve seen him unable to let his family die despite the terrible things they’ve done to him. So, gotta give it to him. 

Fashion rank - #1 (TOP TIER. WELL EARNED IMO).

I freaking love his Whole Cake prince outfit, with the cape. And his wedding outfit. And all of his outfits. :’) But I think my favorite has gotta be the dorky, oversized sweater from Strong World. 

2 - Chopper - Chopper’s bumped out of first, but juuuust barely. I think we’ve seen him give a little more apprehension about treating enemies in the past, but ultimately, like Sanji, he’s going to help anyone in need, even if it means healing people who’ve hurt the crew. World’s best doctor has to be able to help anyone! 

Fashion rank - #6 (He wears some cute things, and bonus points for being able to keep them on when he transforms. :|…)

Again, another movie outfit, but my favorite’s the fucking cow from Film Z.

3 - Usopp - This boy takes third, I think. He’s fiercely protective of his crewmates and the ship, even more so after the timeskip, and we’ve seen him show concern and emotion for plenty of people outside of the crew as well. 

Fashion rank - #5 (I fucking love Usopp’s fashion sense though, even if it’s wacky. Just everything he wears, his hats, his crazy costumes. My god).This one from Movie 6 is simple by comparison, but it’s my favorite because HIS HAIR. 

4 - Nami - She actually has the potential to be very kind and compassionate, I think, and the potential to be caring and nurturing, particularly to kids. She’s very empathetic, so long as people don’t act like complete doofuses around her. And we’ve seen her dedicate herself fully to causes before even the rest of the crew did, i.e. the kids at Punk Hazard or forgiving Hatchan and not blaming Jinbei for what went down with Arlong, one of her best character moments ever, in my opinion.

Fashion rank - #2 (She could, arguably, be number one, considering she definitely shows the most active interest in looking good. I’m just partial to Sanji. xD)

Picking a favorite of hers is hard because I love so many…..I’ll avoid movies this time and go with her Thriller Bark outfit. She always looks cute with her hair up, and this outfit was pretty unique compared to her usual fare.

5 - Brook - I’m gonna say Brook’s kindness comes next, considering the whole Laboon thing, and also because he generally is polite and tolerant of others…unless he’s asking to see their panties… He’s even polite to enemies.

Fashion rank - #4 (I mean, he’s hella fab. Ya got the suits, you got the rocker outfits. Dude’s got style).

Bless this outfit that he wears for like 0.5 seconds in Film Gold. 

6 - Luffy - Aaaahh this is getting tough, and honestly, these last few could change around. I ranked his kindness low, comparatively, but Luffy honestly doesn’t give a damn about most things unless it affects his friends, so I think that’s why he got bumped down for me. Of course he is kind. He wouldn’t have all these people on his crew if he wasn’t. But until something affects him or his friends directly, it’s not of much concern to him. 

Fashion rank - #9 (HA. We’ve seen him wear fashionable things, sure, but not of his own choosing really. He clearly does not care about fashion one bit. xD He’s over here wearing sandals with suits - which is adorable - but he just doesn’t caaare, so that’s why I put him dEAD last).

I love all the ridiculous T-shirts and stuff he wears, but….come on. Future Pirate King here. He’s gotta look the part. So Strong World is my favorite.

7 - Robin - UGH, but see, she has proven herself to be a kind person! Especially post-timeskip, now that she’s opened up a lot more. She fucking loves the crew so much and is so sweet and motherly and playful with them. And she’s even begun to show that side to others too. With Law and Momonosuke and Koala and even freaking Barto and Cabbage Cavendish. I guess she just got bumped down because of how heartless and closed-off she used to be before she started trusting people again. It’s a (relatively) new thing to see her so uninhibited, so that’s the only reason I didn’t rank her higher here. Also she cried over fucking Ryunosuke for fuck’s sake. (#1 saddest OP death).

Fashion rank - #3 (She’s not as openly into fashion as Nami, but damn, does she know how to look good. I love her sophisticated style.)

Her Movie 6 outfit with the big hat is fabulous. And her Film Z dancer outfit with that leopard-print skirt. And I also love her original cowboy hat get-up in Alabasta. But everything with her striped sweater dress from Strong World, the glasses, the ponytail, the cute necklace, how her sleeves cover her hands. Just kill me. 

8 - Franky - Again, I feel bad he ended up so low too because he’s not unkind. He can be super chill and cool with people outside the crew, but I don’t think we’ve really seen him make too many bonds with, or show much interest in other characters, aside from the Water 7 crew. At least none that instantly come to mind in this hardly-researched, rambling post. xP He’s a good guy, and he’s obviously there for the Straw Hats 100%. He’s just not as openly compassionate as some of the others (despite his tendency to get emotional over things xD). HE’S A ROBOT FOR GOD’S SAKE.

Fashion rank - #7 (He’s got an idea of what he likes, so I gotta give him points there, as compared to just throwing on whatever burlap sack is available. And I also have to give him credit for somehow working clothes around all his post-timeskip modifications. But I wouldn’t exactly say he cares too much about looking….normal and polished. Bahaha.)

 I still love his outfits for how absurd they are. The freaking braids in Dressrosa. The JKLMNOPQ shirt. And the one in Zou that just says I ☀ HT. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?! (Seriously though. What does it mean). His outfits make me laugh so much. In the end, I gotta go with this one from the Heart of Gold special because I just lost it at that goddamn hair. 

9 - Zoro - SIGH. SIGH SIGH SIGH. We’ve seen him be kind. We have. We have, we have. With Chopper. With Usopp. With kids. WE’VE SEEN IT. We know he is. But he’s also Zoro, and he does things his way. And even if he’s obligated to help out because it’s what the crew is doing, he’s not usually going to show any emotion one way or another, or go out of his way to do some philanthropic thing. He wants the booze for himself! He’s similar to Luffy in a way, but Luffy has such an infectious personality and is outwardly passionate about helping the people he cares about. So our local former demon pirate hunter who not-so-secretly turns to mush when it comes to the crew must come last. Tbh, he just got lost finding number one. 

Fashion rank - #8 (And this poor child is losing the fashion race too. xDDD He’s at least got some clue of what clothes are functional and practical for moving around in, but other than that, he and his captain give no fucks. I mean, in the Episode of Luffy special, when the crew does their adorable little fashion show, they gotta practically fight him to get him to wear something ridiculously normal. Can only imagine how it went down to get him into suits.) 

But the suits. THE SUITS. Goddammit. Now, see, Zoro’s my favorite until death do us part, so everything he wears I will instantly love….. Anything from Strong World is good, and his Armani suit in Film Z. THE GLASSES. The glasses. The dad outfit - camo shorts and stupid baseball cap - from Film Gold. His Skypiea outfit with the tank top and goggles. And the Dressrosa mustache disguise. His skull hoodie from the Kaze wo Sagashite opening. His Zoro White dress from Marchen Time. (I have to include it). SHIRTLESS. I mean. I could go on.My favorite has to be his suit from Film Gold though. I just think it’s so hilariously Zoro - to wear the fucking suit jacket and vest and shit….but over the battle outfit for later. Everyone else gets all nicely dressed and he’s over here, finally having had enough of the dumb formal wear shit.

IT’S OVER. Sorry it got so long. I hope you survived the length. Thanks for the question though! 

[sarahsilverdog-blog-blog]

One Problem At A Time Ch. 4

So, it looks like this is gonna go for a while, so I am tagging it #OneProblem. Thank you!

FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES

I’m not big on social graces,

Think I'll slip on down to the oasis.

-Garth Brooks

One hour and thirty minutes left.

Clementine stayed in the lab with Sam but everyone else surrounded the plane’s main door, guns raised and ready for their visitor. The man who stepped through the plane's hatch could have been anywhere from forty to seventy, iron gray hair peeked out from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat but there were few lines on his face. he was big and burly like a bear but lean and hard, no fat anywhere on him. He wore jeans with leather chaps, intricately stitched cowboy boots, a plain blue workshirt covered with a worn denim jacket...and a fancy, pearl-handled six shooter hung from his hip, Flanked by two men in an eclectic mix of military and western clothing, he didn't seem disconcerted at all to be greeted by six people bristling with loaded weapons all pointed at him and he raised his hands cooperatively and grinned, showing even, white teeth. "G'day folks,” he said in a thick Australian accent, inclining his head to Mitch who was the closest one to him. "Morris Brown, formerly of the Royal Australian Regiment, 4th Battalion, currently of the SoCal Extract/Evac Company, at your service." He got a good look at Jamie, covered in blood and filth, and Jackson, whose eye had blackened magnificently and whose throat was ringed with darkening bruises. "Looks like you folks had a bit of a scrap.”

Jamie snorted. “That's an understatement.”

Jackson eyed Morris Brown closely and said in his gravelly, injured voice, “I’ve heard of you. Your company did the San Diego job a couple of years ago. That was some nice work." He lowered his gun, and the others did too, the tension easing in the room and Brown dropped his hands to sides.

Tessa said, "Impressive work, you mean." She explained to the others. “They evacuated five thousand people in one group, walked them 350 miles through hybrid infested desert and only lost one person- to appendicitis. That's the stuff of legends.”

Brown looked pleased at the praise and rocked back on his heels. "Yeah, that was one bugger of a run. Took two months to get ‘em to the safe zone, razorbacks attacking every few days." He turned to Jackson. "But you're a bit of a celebrity yourself, mate. I know who you are, Dylan Green. Number one evac specialist north of San Francisco, though I think your pet lions give you a bit of an advantage.” He glanced around the interior of the plane with delighted curiosity. “I don’t suppose they are with you now?"

"The lions didn't have enough frequent flier miles," Mitch interjected impatiently. "Not to be rude, but we are kind of on a tight schedule, soo…”

“Oh, right,” Brown said, not seeming offended in the least. He turned and nodded to one of his men, who disappeared back out of the plane. "We're on our way back from a run and well, there's strange things going on in the hybrid zone." He scratched up under his hat at his cropped gray hair. “I maybe saw the most bizarre of all a few hours ago...anyhow it's something we need to look into but we picked up a, uh, passenger that isn’t suited to fast, hard travel in a truck caravan. I was hoping we could leave it with you folks...” he trailed off as the man reappeared, holding a tiny bundle that suddenly let out a squalling scream.

There was stunned silence for a second. then Mitch handed Jamie his rifle and with a happy sob took his grandson in his arms. Relief swept like a wave over them all, suddenly they surrounded baby Sam, laughing and smiling with the utter joy of his unbelievable presence. Clementine came racing down the staircase from the lab, having heard her son's cries; everyone fell back and let her take her son from his grandfather in her trembling hands, hugging him tightly as Mitch held them both in a protective embrace. Jamie sidled away but one of Mitch's hands caught hers and pulled her into their family circle, though she resisted slightly he was insistent and she gave in, letting his arms encircle her too as she hugged Clem and smiled over baby Sam.

Morris Brown was taking in this scene with keen interest, and he waggled his bushy eyebrows at Jackson and said, "I guess you lot don't find a baby as strange as we do.”

Jackson was smiling happily, tears in his eyes and he shook his head at Brown and said hoarsely, “We suddenly don't have such a tight schedule. How about a drink and you tell us how you ended up with the baby?”

***

Brown set one of his five men on guard, to watch out for hybrids- or other things- and the rest of them retired to the bar for a drink. Jamie excused herself after one; Clem had taken Baby Sam to be with his father in the lab after Mitch examined him (and after Abe administered the sterility cure injection); Jackson/Dylan and Tessa were discussing evacuation runs and other business she didn't particularly care about too much with their visitors, though Abe and Dariela were extremely interested as they discussed tactics and various plans that worked, or didn’t. The sticky dinosaur blood that covered her was getting unbearable, itchy and crackling against her skin and when she moved her right arm there was a worrisome tugging sensation that she was afraid was a deep cut that her clothes had dried to. She was brutally sore and wanted nothing more than to peel the filthy clothes off and climb into a steaming hot shower. Mitch started down the hall after her and she almost told him to stay put but then she realized he didn’t particularly want to listen to tactical Evac stories, and he didn’t want to intrude on his daughter's newly reunited family- he wanted to be with her. She waited for him to catch up and teased, “Time for my private exam, doctor?”

He smiled but his eyes were serious. "Actually, Miss Campbell, it is. I’ve noticed the way you’ve been moving your right arm and favoring your right side. I know am just a vet,” she snickered at that, "but I think I am qualified to check you out.”

They needed to talk, she knew, needed to work out some of the events of the last 72 hours; Max, and Logan, and discuss some things that had been said, or maybe hadn't been said, but now wasn't the time. She was tired, sore, and they were still both too warm with the residual happiness of baby Sam to start dissecting the darkness between them.

Mitch saw her hesitation and guessed the reason behind it truthfully, he didn’t really want to hash it out now either, he was too confused, too amazed, too unsettled… just too much. “I don’t –“ he started, then took her hand and said, “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Jamie.”

Taking it as a promise, she opened the door to her room and let him in.

***

Mitch rejoined the others in the bar a short while later. Jamie hadn't had any serious injuries, the worst was the laceration she had feared, a deep cut in her shoulder from the dagger sharp talons of the dinosaur. Adrenaline had kept her from feeling it, but she had felt it well enough when Mitch pulled the clotted, matted cloth from it with a sickening ripping sound, making her pale as fresh blood seeped from the gash. She also had a darkening bruise from her right armpit to her hip, where she had landed when the dino attacked her but otherwise she seemed fine and as promised, when he had determined that she didn't need any serious doctoring, he left her to it with a kiss and a promise to let him disinfect the gash after her shower.

The conversation in the bar had shifted to different hybrids they had seen recently, and the talk had turned from somewhat jovial to something more subdued and tense. Apparently there were more terrible creatures out there than they had already dealt with, and Mitch blanched at the mention of spider hybrids the size of golden retrievers, massive eight foot tall goats that had five foot long horns and razor sharp hooves, and at least one woolly mammoth, which had used its massive tusks to knock a locomotive off of the tracks outside of Los Angeles. It was somewhat frightening to consider that six-foot tall, vicious Cretaceous dinosaurs weren’t the worst they were going to face as Abigail’s creatures roamed freely into North America.

Once he had poured himself a drink and taken a seat with the others, the conversation changed as Mitch said. "So, Crocodile Dundee, tell me how you figured out country music scares the monsters away.”

Brown just laughed. "Crocodile Dundee. You Americans are so unoriginal. 'Throw another shrimp on the barbie’ and all that.” He squinted hard at Mitch, then shrugged. “To be honest, Dr. Morgan, we have no idea how it works. We just happened to luck into the discovery.” He took a deep swallow of the golden amber liquid in his glass and settled back into his seat. “We don't only do evac work, though that is our main focus. We also, eh," he searched for a delicate term, “clean up after the survivors have been evacuated.”

“Loot, you mean.” Dariela snapped. Brown only shrugged again. “If that's what you like to call it, mate. One man's trash is another man's treasure. Anyway, about a week ago we were cleaning a cabin we found in Nevada outside some desert town called Rachel. Wasn't much in it, but Chuck here," he motioned to one of his men, “found some little ipod type thing and snagged it, thinking there might be some good music on it. Turns out there wasn’t, just that terrible song on a loop, over and over and over." He shook his fist at the sky and said, “I’ve got friends in low places too, mate! Such a bloody come down. We were in one of the trucks and we came on a herd of those goat hybrids and Chuck was so mad at the song he was about to throw the damn thing out when all of a sudden the goats started to run. Away. Now, in our experience those stubborn, canty headed bastards will charge every time, but while that bloody awful music was playing, they ran.

“We experimented. Cut the song off, they charged us, turned it on, they stopped in their tracks and skedaddled the other way. So we tried it on the next hybrid we met, a razorback. Ran. Vulture, flew away." He grinned, his hatless gray head shining in the plane's soft light. "It's a terrible price to pay, but for those we love, we sacrifice!" He guffawed and gulped the rest of his drink down, motioning to Mitch to refill it.

Mitch took his glass, rose and went to the bar, but he stopped short of pouring the whisky. “I owe you,” he said, inclining his head gratefully towards Brown, “for bringing the baby back to us -and l still want to know how that came about - but I think if you let me study that device with the song on it, I can figure out why it repels the hybrids and maybe you won't ever have to hear that song again,” he shrugged, “Or at the least, maybe I can change the song.”

“That in itself would be a relief, my friend." Brown said, and Mitch smiled as he handed him his drink.

***

They moved the party to the lab, after Mitch saw Clem and Sam into his bedroom with the baby. Sam was still in rough shape but seeing his son and spending some quiet time with Clementine had done wonders for him, and the lab was too cold and uncomfortable for someone trying to rest. Jamie rejoined them, clean and fresh and creamy white in the glow of the lab's lights and Mitch was gratified to see her in somewhat casual clothing - in his mind he characterized it as ‘Early Jamie', faded jeans and a cute t-shirt and a light sweater -and she hadn't done her hair, it was tousled and curled and Mitch wanted nothing more in the world than to twist one of those curls in his fingers, pull it down and let his hand graze her cheek...but his imagination was cut off as Morris Brown whistled slowly at Jamie and said, "Well, we are officially a part of the jet set! Pun intended, of course! Jamie Campbell, of one of my favorite authors of one of my favorite novels.” He was quite a few drinks in, and he gave Jamie a friendly leer as he said, “I didn’t recognize you before when you were so...dirty," and winked, taking her hand, bending low and kissing her knuckles softly.

Mitch rolled his eyes loudly and Jamie withdrew her hand firmly with her ‘celebrity smile', the one she always used on talk shows and interviews and with overbearing fans. Mitch recognized it at once, how many times had he seen her use it when weaseling information out of someone or dealing with idiot officials who couldn't be handled by anyone else? lt was another glimpse of the old Jamie, and Mitch found himself feeling grateful that she was still...her.

"Thank You," she said to Brown, then pointedly joined Mitch at his computer and took his hand, looking down at what he was working on.

Morris Brown chuckled and took another drink. “Aye, you're a lucky man, Dr. Morgan," he said, slapping his hand on his thigh. "No offense meant Miss Campbell. And you’re still my favorite author." He leaned sharply forward and said to Jackson/Dylan, "She may be the writer, but now I want you to tell me a story.”

Jamie stayed next to Mitch as he worked on the device Brown had given them. It was connected to one of their diagnostic computers and he ran a variety of different tests on it as Morris Brown listened to Jackson/Dylan and Abe take turns telling him about Abigail and the hybrids, New York, the volcano, Clem's miracle baby and the cure for sterility, and the breach in the barrier and their escape, though they left out Jackson's involvement both as her brother and as the one who drove the plane through the wall.

Well," Brown said, his deep Aussie accent broadened by alcohol, "I told you I had seen some strange things. About four hours before we found you, we came across the herd of rhino hybrids you folks acquainted yourselves with earlier. They were acting fairly bizarre, all standing in one place, looking the same direction. No panic, no snorting, no bellowing, not even when we started to drive around them, Then we saw a jeep parked at the edge of the herd, and a sheila, right up close, using some kind of hand signals and be damned if the rhinos weren't behaving as if they knew what she was saying!”

The crew all exchanged looks as Morris continued, "Well, we got up to the jeep before she noticed us, close enough for me to notice a baby seat in the back. Funny how baby seats never caught my eye before but I guess after you haven’t seen an ankle biter in a decade those kind of things look out of place. Anyway, she finally saw us and she didn’t bat an eye as she waved her hands and those damn monsters came charging at us so fast Chuck almost didn't hit play." He paused and threw a toothy grin at Chuck, who answered. "But l did, and those sumbitches wheeled around so quick they almost trampled the lady where she stood.”

Morris Brown took over. "Seemed like the music was hurting her too, she grabbed her head like it was about to bust but then again, maybe she just doesn’t like country music. But here's where the craziest part comes in. She was too far from her jeep, and she seemed pretty surprised that the beasties were running away such a hurry. She got a look at our arsenal bearing down on her so she made some kind of sign and one of those big bastards came back to her, let her climb on it and she rode away on it!” He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe what his own eyes had seen. "Craziest damn thing I’ve ever seen. We did a quick go over of the jeep and didn't find anything but well, the baby. We had figured on taking it to the Barrier and leaving it, but since you say they’ve evacuated –“ he shrugged and took another swallow of whisky.

Suddenly Mitch broke in. "Hey, Ja- uh, Dylan, could you come over here for a sec?" Brown didn't miss Mitch's mistake and his keen eyes suddenly narrowed as Jackson rose and joined Mitch at his computer. He had a screen up and Jamie peered over their shoulders as he pointed to two parallel, wavy lines that intersected at uniform points, "This look familiar to you?”

Jackson looked up at him incredulously. "That looks just like the combination of frequencies Abigail used to make the beacons, hers and mine, but opposite ranges, So instead of drawing the hybrids-“

“They repel them." Mitch finished, halfway between triumph and jealousy. “It’s genius, l don’t know why think of it before.” He beamed at Jamie, who squeezed his hand as he said, "I can isolate the frequencies and we can play it from anything that can broadcast. Looks like we may have a new line of defense.”

***

Everyone had gone to bed except the two of them; Morris Brown and his men were sprawled on various couches throughout the plane and the others had gone to their rooms. Mitch had isolated the repellant frequency from the music and had it on a loop that was silent to the human ear but would hopefully keep hybrids away and Jamie had set proximity alarms on every entrance to the plane so everyone felt reasonably secure. Having six extra, heavily armed people on board for the night made it feel a little less worrisome too. They sat close together at the bar, nursing what was left of a bottle of vodka. Other than the impersonal exam earlier, and his quick, post-shower dressing of her wound, it was the first time they had been alone together in what felt like weeks, though it had only been little more than a day.

Jamie could feel him steeling himself up to say something and she was pretty sure she knew what it was going to be. As much as he had tried to make her feel better before, trying to claim darkness for himself, she knew he really wasn't accustomed to ruthless Jamie. Single-minded Jamie, yes, she'd always been that, but his brilliant brain was having trouble processing what ten years of bleak disappointment and pain had done to her. For years revenge had been her only motivating factor, in truth, years before she even met Mitch revenge had been her motivator but she'd had hope then, hope that things would work out in the end, hope that the little guy would win, and even hope that she and Mitch could make some kind of life together after the animal apocalypse. Then Mitch was gone, and she had hope that she could take care of Clementine the way he had wanted, hope that she could keep some part of him alive in herself through his daughter. Then Max took Clem and she had nothing. Logan hadn’t been, would never have been enough for her, so vengeance had filled that hole in her heart and she didnt know if she could make room in it again for something so weak and fickle as hope.

“So what was that out there?” He finally asked, his hand cupping her cheek, gently but firmly, she wasn’t going to look away.

She did anyway. and he let his hand fall, picking up his drink instead as she answered innocently, "What was what?"

He wasn’t going to deal with her bullshit tonight, and he rolled his eyes as if to say, really? "Didnt we just have a whole conversation about darkness? I think kicking Jackson in the face and threatening to burn him alive is a bit dark, even for you.”

“I wasn’t going to burn Jackson," she scoffed, though she couldn't deny the kick in the face so she took the easy one first. “l was threatening to burn the zombie because they are afraid of fire, which worked by the way.”

“No, it didn't. What worked was the flaming Thanksgiving turkey smashing into it." He had her there, and she leaned slightly away in irritation, pursing her lips and rearranging her socked feet on the barstool railing. Mitch didn't miss her reaction, and he pressed his advantage. “And what made you think fire would work on a zombie?”

Already annoyed at him, she rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid she'd strained her optic nerve. "Hello? I grew up in Louisiana? Bayous?Voodoo? Zombies? Didn't you spend a year there?”

"Studying giant river rats, not the undead.” He finished his drink, poured himself another and topped Jamie's off with the remainder of the bottle, plopping it loudly on the back of the bar. "Need to get some more of this." He sighed, swirling his drink in the bottom of his glass and deciding to let her off the hook for now said instead, "l could be studying the undead right now, but we left them in the compound. Not that I could do much with the soldier, since I think he's been barbecued beyond use,” he looked emphatically at Jamie, eliciting a snort of laughter she tried to suppress, "but l could still learn something from the dog.”

She swallowed the last of her drink in one gulp, jumped up from the barstool and said, "Well, lets go get it then." He looked at her blankly and she said, "The dog. It's still there in the compound, right? I mean, where would it go?"

He took another sip and looked sideways at her, then down at her feet. "Uh huh. You going in your socks or are you gonna put on some fuzzy slippers first?”

The laugh was real, warm and honeyed and rich and it sent shivers down his spine as the mood subtly shifted between them. "Maybe we can wait until tomorrow," she said, her voice suddenly husky and low, stepping between his knees she leaned into him as he bent to meet her lips with his. Electricity surged between them, fusing them together, all sparking neurons and melding molecules; her hands burned against his thighs, through the thick material of his jeans and in the desperate reaches of his lizard brain he wondered vaguely if she planned on burning him alive, though at the moment he didn't really care if she did. He buried his hands in her hair, pulling her closer, needing her closer and she responded, tightening her body against his because she needed him too.

They finally surfaced for air, and Mitch stood. holding her to him and brushing tousled tendrils of her hair away from her face. "Uh, my room is currently being used as a nursery ..sooo, think maybe l can crash with you tonight?" he asked gruffly.

She answered him breathlessly, running her fingers over his stubbly cheek, “I think that can be arranged.”

"Afterwards you can tell me all about zombies," he said, lowering his head to nibble sharp kisses at the soft skin of her throat. “We have to keep up our reputation for lively pillow talk.”

***

Here, darkness was good. Here, darkness kept them safe, hidden from the outside world and its monsters; it hid their scars in shadows, even as they bared themselves completely. Here, in the darkness, it was just the two of them, together.

***

[coyoteajar]

I love them, pls tell us more about ya OCs ouo

Thank you very much!

A few more things about Jackson and Will (because I’m really focused on these 2 right now, but i’ll move on in a sec):

Jackson can’t cook

i mean…. he can? but not super well

he knows how to make simple stuff like eggs or pancakes or whatever, but that’s it. And it’s always pretty plain tasting. but it’s still better than Will because Will just won’t cook stuff (it’s effort and requires energy that he doesn’t have)

so Jackson will sometimes make Will some food. i mean, he “can’t be the only one to eat all of Will’s food, you know?”

Will and Jackson watch Buzzfeed Unsolved together

Will is basically Shane and this fucking baffles Jackson because

“I’m? A ghost?? You are literally talking to me, a ghost, and saying that you don’t believe in the supernatural?”

“I mean yeah, but you still haven’t shown me proof of that other stuff being real. And besides, how do I know you’re not just an exception to a rule? or even a ghost? i mean, we haven’t seen any others. so who knows?”

Jackson used to be ticklish

Will has a ban on puns in the house because once Jackson told one and it caused Will to let out a giggled snort and Jackson looked at him w/ these wide eyes and Will got super self-conscious but Jackson was like “no. it suits you.” and Will just stomps away because “shut. up.”

OKay, but let’s talk about the most important OC, which is Ryan Harper, my son.

Ryan is a recurring NPC from the DnD/DW campaign I’ve been running

He’s a gun-slinging rogue from the South

and he may not wear a cowboy hat, but he does wear a duster coat

and he’s very much the type to act overly confident and by telling bad jokes, and a touch of self-deprecating humor and finger guns. all because he’s dead on the inside

he’s like, constantly this close to a breakdown. or at least a panic attack, because what is with adventurers these days??

Ryan Harper deserves to be happy somewhere far from all this necromancy business, but for now he must suffer and i feel a little bad

I love my sad, gay son

and Ryan loves [name redacted: my dead, gay son]. And he should probably be trying to move on, but who needs to work through their grief in a healthy way?

some people?? form Thieves’ Guilds??? to cope????????

he also has some history w/ the leader of this really shady quild that seeks out God powers to protect the world or some shit? who knows?

don’t ask him about her though. he’s not exactly a fan. it’s… it’s a pretty long story.

and besides, you need to be a Level 19 Friend to unlock that tragic backstory

speaking of tragic backstory

that dude he loves? [name redacted]? Ryan defo blames himself for his death.

and well. i mean? he’s not wrong

because Ryan knows he probably could’ve protected [name redacted], but he was too much of a fucking coward and would rather run away again because he doesn’t want to watch another one of them die again and not be able to stop it even though he should be able to but he can’t because he’s not allowed and he knows it so instead he just. leaves

and if i’m being honest he probably shouldn’t be blaming himself, but the only other person who actually deserves blame for this situation isn’t even here anymore so he can’t exactly blame her anymore, can he?

so instead he’s left w/ himself and far too much time to think

which is when he helps to form the Thieves’ Guild

it’s also when he decides he no longer cares what happens to himself

which can come in handy when running dangerous missions

but conversely, it can also be super detrimental to missions

but uh… i think he’s getting better? maybe??

it’s up to my Players. but that’s a story for another time. (like in a year or something)

(anyway! fun facts about coming up w/ Ryan):

He was originally created because my sister, Lynn, had a character who was a part of the Thieves’ Guild and had a mentor-like/friend type of person in it

and i had a lot of ideas on how to tie in Player backstories and how to hurt their characters, so Ryan was gonna betray the Players in a bad way.

and he almost did

but then? i realized that wasn’t him?

this was getting close to the time when i was realizing that i really wanted to reboot the campaign, so i was constantly rethinking NPCs and plotlines

and I’m gonna be honest? Jes is the reason Ryan has become the character he is

because Jes did the thing that Players do by joining Ryan for the train ride. she completely derailed my plans (pun intended)

because Ryan was gonna start laying part of the trap during this bit

but now Jes was w/ him and also the new players

and I’d been debating this plot anyway

so when i played him in front of them, i just? changed how i’d been trying to play him?

he was originally being played more like Han Solo and then I was playing him like Flynn from Tangled (or Crowley from Good Omens)

and i realized i liked that version SO much more

(and so did the others, especially Jes)

so i played really into it in the next session and it made so much more sense to me

so i took that time to rewrite him (and a few other plot points)

so Ryan wasn’t some minor villain anymore.

and this actually is when i got closer to the current plot of the campaign

And this is when I decided to rewrite and reboot it all

and now Ryan is the rogue that we all know and love (or at least, me and Jes love)

Anyway, I also have some OCs from highschool that I’ve been updating off and on recently, if ya’ll are interested?

[skeletxnqueen]

flower crown fairy lights daisies 1975 matte black nail polish pantone moodboard stars plants converse lace handwriting cactus sunrise oil paints overalls combat boots winged eyeliner pastel tattoos piercings bands messy bun cry baby grunge space white bed sheets old books beaches eyes 11:11 painting lightning thunder storms love clouds coffee marble

T H E N E V E R E N D I N G A S K (I wasn’t ignoring you, I’m gonna be honest, I forgot this was sitting in my drafts waiting to be completed aaaaa)

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself? - A few minutes ago. I left my iPod in my co-worker’s car so I kinda have nothing better to do. All my favorite apps are on there.

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know? - Are alternate universes real and is there one where I am content and happy? (sorry to get depressing there bud but life just ain’t what I want it to be rn)

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life? - I haven’t experienced enough things to  really say I’ve accomplished anything. I guess getting a job and keeping it for as long as I have? Six months and counting.

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise? - Seeing a gif of a kitten walking over to a camera man and then proceeding to nap on him and walk all over his shoulders and sit on his head while he had to hold almost completely still.

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? - This question as me depressed and low key anxious I don’t think I can answer it without crying sorry

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things? - Not really. I try to avoid really confronting my own mortality. Thinking about dying both scares and tempts me and it’s really weird and terrifying and no bueno. Gosh my answers seem so depressing I’m sorry bab aaAAAA

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail. - I’m too lazy to describe anyone again but um my brother c’: Again. Heckie

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood? - I suppose. I mean it definitely could have been better, but it’s not really on “tragic backstory” level so I guess yeah. I dunno how to answer this, in all honesty.

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person? - Earlier tonight

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them. - My friend Antonio. He’s weird but he loves space and it’s nice to hear how excited he gets talking about the stars and planets because he’s super passionate about it. I just like when my friends are happy ya know? So I know stargazing with my space buddy would be fun.

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them? - Honestly I have before. I don’t mean for it to, but sometimes the conversations just take that direction. I’m a big oversharer.

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you? - fam I’m always up at 3am wym I stay talkin to ppl at 3am (for the record it’s usually my mom and/or brother)

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom? - Again, I can’t answer this without crying I’m sorry.

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes? - I have them and I love them why is this up for discussion why is this a question is there brown eye discourse???

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally. - “I don’t care what you think, as long as it’s about me.” …….. I really like attention. More seriously though, I like knowing that I’m real to other people. I know it sounds weird but sometimes I just like being reminded that I actually exist in other people’s lives and that I’m a real person???? Idk how to describe it but yeah. That line makes me think about that aspect of myself a lot.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far? - “Still Figuring It Out”

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars? - cry because I can finally get my family out of our rough situation, spoil my mom and brother rotten, buy lots of pretty makeup, travel the world, and still have enough left over to live comfortably for the rest of my life without ever having to work again unless I want to to have something to do.

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way? - I am. Sometimes too much for my own good. Sometimes I like it just cause it can help settle conflicts quicker and sometimes I don’t because not only do I let toxic people back into my life but it causes me to miss them and desperately want them back because I convince myself “it’s in the past, it wasn’t that bad, and they’ve probably changed so I should let it go”.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self. - Dear Mikii,

First of all what a weird nick-name you dork. I’m Gabby. I’m still just as much of a dork so don’t feel bad. You’re going through a weird phase in your life right now. You’re confused and probably questioning who you are. That’s not really going to stop, but it gets better. It gets easier to deal with. Eventually you’ll work for your favorite pizza place and, while it’s stressful, you’ll make cool friends and you’ll make money, and nobody will be able to tell you what you can and can’t buy. It’ll be awesome. You got this

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel? - I guess I lean closer to the punk side. It’s kind of funny because I have the soft cute personality that you’d think would fit on a pastel type person and honestly that’s my aesthetic but style wise, I usually go for darker colors and stuff. My brother is the polar opposite. Punk personality and pastel style.

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain. - Yes. Body art is yes. I love it and I want it. If you have tattoos and/or piercings I am 75% more likely to get some kind of crush on you.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not? - yes, because I like it and it’s pretty.

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way. - I dunno if this counts much, I had to think long and hard on this one, but Crossfire by Stephen makes me think a lot about current events and police brutality and the bombings in other countries and just a bunch of sad stuff that’s going on now which I know is the point but it makes me really think about the privilege I do have compared to those who face discrimination and oppression far more harshly than I ever will and I just heckin

heck

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them. - “Prince didn’t die for this.”

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel. - I’ve only ever been to one and it was a local band so

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say? - Idk man probably my dad. Not gonna go in depth but I’ll say this. I’d want a large sum of money included and a 5 page long apology letter.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised? - nope nothing is organized and I dont have a workspace

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine? - stay up til I physically cannot hold my eyes open anymore then fall asleep

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know? - that I’m not Christian and that I have a um…. device. Of some sort.

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? - Keep it red / make it redder, probably some kind of undercut or side shave

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do? - 1. Alin2. Mikey3. Kaylee4. Dom5. Rose

I’d take these nerds with me as I travel the globe and try new experiences, shop cool unique things, and just live my dream life with. I’d go to the ends of the earth with these precious babies.

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them. - (1) Wealth. I want to pay off my mother’s college debt, buy her a nice place to stay as well as somewhere for myself, buy my brother anything his little heart desires, donate to fundraisers and charities, live my dream life, etc. (2) Clear skin. I’m pretty confident in my body shape and all, but I can’t stand my skin. Especially everywhere that isn’t my face. My shoulders have it the worst. (3) Someone willing to date me who doesn’t live thousands of miles away would be lovely. I mean I can do long distance but I just crave physical affection ya know? I dunno man I’m just lonely.

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up. - Well, last year I was a dead cowgirl. I used my day of the dead makeup and wore a flannel, jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat that I got from party city. Relatively simple, but it was still fun to see little kids’ reactions and everything at work.

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high? - this implies I’ve gotten drunk or high before (I’ve been kind of tipsy before but otherwise I’m fucking lame and I don’t do that stuff)

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars? - kill somebody (there are a few exceptions but in general ya know?)

storms: you can only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why? - both of these would drive me literally insane let’s not and say we did

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realize you’re in love. - I think I have. I don't know. To me it's realizing the things I'd be willing to do for that person. Just wanting to make them happy. Wanting to spoil them, see them smile, hear their stupid jokes even if they aren't funny, see all the ugly or silly faces they make, and just loving everything about them. Overcoming my biggest insecurities and discomforts for them. Realizing that there are certain things I can only see myself doing with them. When I read those couple posts I think of them, even though it's been over a year since we've been together. Hearing a certain song or artist is tainted by thoughts of them, when nothing would come to mind before I got to know them. Filling spots in my mind and heart that for years had been left vacant. Realizing that despite how much they've hurt me, I'd gladly take them back if they asked. Feeling like it was the right love at the wrong time, even though it probably wasn't the right love at all. Falling in love to me is having them lurking around every corner of my mind, the darkest shadows, the deepest trenches, even when I'm not thinking of them, they're always there. Even when I'm not thinking about them, I somehow am. I don't know if this is love or obsession, admittedly. Maybe I just need help lol

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair? - I’d rock both and look sexy while doing it

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone? - I don’t go to starbucks enough to really say

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now? - my family and getting us out of the tough situation we’re in right now