#i don’t know how to tag this

[renarots]

The ability to evacuate is a privilege and I’m sick of people applying Florida logic to the Appalachians right now. Yes it is horrible for those who couldn’t in Florida but the people in the Appalachian’s had no warning. People still have “dial up” there, 55.9% of the population is under the poverty line. “I’ve been seeing warnings for a week” no you haven’t the warnings were for Florida and Georgia, even then it wasn’t supposed to hit the apps like this at most flooding but they would recover. When hurricane helene took that turn it was too late to even warn others before dams broke. The infrastructure is not meant to take this beating especially given the storm they had the week before causing all of the waterways to be full already. Towns are wiped out, towns that relied on tourism and coal mining to bring in revenue are gone. My great aunt and uncle lived in a trailer off a plot of land and were so happy they finally got a clean running water system hooked up two years ago. They have one tiny little old android that they have to travel about an hour in town to use so they can call us up. They lived off a fixed income because any sort of job was two hours away at least and they’re getting older they can’t just travel that much anymore. My great uncle can’t walk without his cane and my great aunt is getting there too. They always joked about taking me home with them and I would always say when I got older they would come live with me because I knew how rough it was for them but they couldn’t just leave. I haven’t been able to contact them in over 48 hours and the highways leading out after the one hour evacuation notice was given was shut down. Most places are air rescues only because there is no other way for them to be rescued. To add on as well that they deployed FEMA in many of the places affected but yet there is barely any coverage and radio silence from our government. No national guards are here to rescue them they are left to fend for themselves. People are drowning, being electrocuted, some didn’t even stand a chance. These are human beings who have been prayed on for generations the least you can do is show some fucking sympathy. I don’t care what you have to say family’s are being devastated. I wouldn’t wish anything like this to happen to anyone so if you find yourself in your bed at night I hope you know that out there, there are families who are grieving all they have lost and you are cozy at home with running water, electricity and a warm bed and you feel an ounce of guilt for even thinking that.

A link to ways that you can help. Keep Appalachia in your minds do not look away.

[my-maitre]

Nish my beloved

[sansabirdanne]

Giving me the possibility of placing stuff.. wherever is likely not a power I should have. (Lot info under each picture) (I’ve had tool installed for 1 day! This is going to be a mess)

Library, by me ; stripclub, @florwal ; gym, @folkling ; apartment @moonwoodhollow

Bungalows, @softerhaze (I added the white garage); flat-roofed house on the end, @simsyard

Duplex/house, @alcearosea-sims ; apartment @moonwoodmillz ; greenhouse, @alcearosea-sims

(All listed above)

Public pool, by me on the gallery, Sansabirdanne

Thank you so much for everyone’s talent and putting your builds out there.

[gewt]

what world have i entered

[reasonablyneurotic]

welcome home

[fruitisthenewvegitable]

Neil Gaiman: They aren’t talking

The fandom: *smashing their faces together like Barbies*

[bugsprayyy]

Hey could someone give me images of those pathetic looking MS paint doodles I want to draw my sopping wet and pathetic guys over them please and thank you

[wild-whims-with-abandon]

Hi they live in my brain

[pebblewobs]

Attention robot enjoyers here’s a reminder that hydraulic fluid is very often red in color. I need everyone to know this. There is so much potential.

[aboutiroh]

“Posts that have 10k notes to me” I write under a post. The post has over 200k notes. My comment is meant as an insult. The post is clearly overrated.

[a-great-tragedy]

“Jily is the best ship!” “No Jegulus is!”

You all are incorrect, Lily Evans x me is the best

[nostalgicnarrator]

Outlaws and Lawmen

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Word Count: 5311

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Throin Oakenshield, law man, finds himself facing an outlaw, the likes of which he’s never seen before.

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1 / 2 / 2.5

⚠️Warning⚠️

Brief mention of extreme violence. Gun fights and death.



Note:

Listen, I don’t know what to tell you except I really wanted to write this for whatever reason. I was inspired, mostly by @shurikthereject and more specifically this post, and this post by them. Go give them love please if you haven’t already. Have fun and tell me if I messed up.

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The sun was just beginning to rise over the small, dusty town of Ered, casting long shadows on the wooden buildings that lined the main streets.

The cool breeze rolled through the growing town, it carried familiar scents of leather, horses, and the distant aroma of freshly baked bread.

Thorin Oakenshield, the town’s sheriff, adjusted his hat and took a deep breath, savoring the calmness of the early hour.

Thorin’s family had long been intertwined with the law, a legacy stretching back further than he or the rest of the town could really remember.

His father and grandfather before him had both worn the very badge now clipped to his chest.

though they were not the only to carve their own legends into the town, they were the only ones who’s legends lined with mystery’s.

His grandfather had been one of the most revered sheriffs the town had ever known, a man who brought order with a steady hand and an unyielding sense of justice.

But he had not been as invincible as he pretended. He’d upset the wrong people, his throat slit in the dead of night, his body found cold and lifeless in the alley behind what was now Bombur’s saloon.

No one had ever discovered who was responsible. The killer’s identity became the stuff of ghost stories whispered around campfires, a shadow in the town’s memory, known only as “The defiler.”

Thorin’s father fared no better. He vanished without a trace while leading a posse into the hills, chasing after, well Thorin didn’t know.

What he did know was that his father’s badge showed up and left in Thorin’s home, there was no explanation,

And as the weeks turned into months, Thorin's hope dwindled to a painful acceptance. His father was assumed dead, claimed by the wilds or worse.

Left with little choice, and after a little convincing, Thorin took the badge. He was allowed to wear it and wore it he did, making him one of the youngest sheriffs in the territory.

Now, it was his turn to uphold the family honor in a town that seemed forever on the brink of the unexpected. Ered had always attracted the strange and the dangerous, and lately, there’d been no shortage of both.

The sudden influx of outlaws had become increasingly frustrating, bands of desperados and renegades testing their resolve, pushing at the edges of the peace Thorin strived for.

Thorin, by now, had dealt with his fair share of trouble. He’d faced down outlaws who thought his town was an easy mark, stood toe-to-toe with gunmen who underestimated him, and outsmarted those who tried to outgun him.

His reputation grew quickly and he was known as the quickest draw and for having a sharp mind, at least when it came to dealing with outlaws.

His name began to spread beyond Ered, most rumors of him were just that; rumors. but if the whispers in saloons and campfires across the state helped in keeping his town safe he didn’t mind.

Most were overly dramatic stories, some being entirely false and others just being exaggerated. But said stories were enough to make some think twice about causing trouble in his town.

Before that, Ered was just another dot on the map. But it quickly became known as Thorin Oakenshield’s town.

A place where the law was upheld not just by the sheriff’s badge, but by the man who wore it. Outlaws might ride into other towns to cause trouble, but not here. Not under Thorin’s watch.

Still, even as he took in the quiet morning, a familiar tension settled in his gut. The calm wouldn’t last; it never did. And today felt like one of those days when trouble was bound to find its way to his door.

And even as Thorin strode down the main street, nodding to or saying hello to the townspeople who greeted him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing.

The air seemed thicker today, the shadows just a bit darker. He greeted his deputy, Dwalin, as he stepped inside the sheriff’s office.

“Mornin’, Thorin,” Dwalin grunted, adjusting his gun belt. His face, usually calm, held a hint of tension.

“Morning, Dwalin… Feels like a strange day, doesn’t it?” Thorin replied.

Dwalin nodded. “Aye, it does. Maybe it’s the storm coming in from the east, but I’ve got a feelin’…”

Thorin chuckled. “You always have a feeling, Dwalin. Let’s hope it's just the weather this time.”

But deep down, Thorin knew better than to ignore his instincts or those of his deputy. On more than one occasion either had been provided right.

And if they were both feeling it, then something really bad might just happen. Before he could dwell on it anymore, Bofur, the always cheerful owner of the general store, came through the door.

“Sheriff! Morning!” Bofur called, his usual grin tight fake, it seemed out of place on his usually jovial face.

Thorin nodded and made his way over. “Why mornin’ Bofur, everything alright?”

“Well, …no sheriff, It’s my cousin. I’ve been trying to get him help and, well he’s out on his own again.”

Thorin sighed. Bifur, maybe this is what his gut was so upset about. Bifur had lost his mind a few years ago after an accident.

The old prospector was a kind fellow most days but, when he got to wondering, there was no telling.

Bifur often wandered off into the hills, he never got much farther than that. “Alright, I’ll go check on him. Might be good to get out of town for a bit.” Throin patted Bofur on the back.

“Thank ya sheriff, send him to my general store or to my brothers saloon.”

Dwalin gave him a nod as they quickly gathered their stuff. Thorin was first to mount his horse, setting off towards the hills.

The wind picked up as dark clouds gathered on the horizon. He didn’t like leaving town with a feeling like this hanging in the air, but Bofur’s cousin needed checking on, and that was that.

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The midday sun hung high over Ered, casting its relentless heat down onto the dirt streets. A breeze brushed through the town making trees rustle kindly.

The townsfolk moved about their business; women chatting outside the general store, children running past the schoolhouse, and a few men lounged outside Bombur's saloon.

Then, a low rumble of hooves sounded in the distance, growing louder as they approached. Heads turned, eyes narrowing against the glare to see a group of riders on the horizon.

At the head of the pack was a man with a dark brown hat, caramel colored curls wearing a green shirt and a dark poncho around his shoulders. A white bandanna covered his face nicely.

Not everyone could immediately recognize the leader, but the few that did knew him as Bilbo Baggins, the outlaw.

He was a new name to the outlaws list, steadily climbing the wanted list, now he sits near the top, he’d robbed banks, and towns. He’s known to be armed and dangerous.

He never misses, he hasn't ever each time he’s shot a gun. Bilbo rode in with a confidence that would send a chill down the spine of any onlooker.

Three other men rode behind him, all armed and faces hidden behind masks of different colors and patterns.

Beside Bilbo was his right hand man, no name was ever given to the man, and none ever will. He always wore a purple shirt with a dark bandanna around his face and a black hat blocking the rest.

Bilbo’s right hand man was known as a wiry man with a wicked glint in his eye, he seemed to scan the buildings with sharp interest, his fingers twitching near the revolver at his side.

The riders came to a stop in the middle of the street, kicking up clouds of dust. Bilbo’s eyes swept over the faces that stared back at him.

There were wide-eyed women who clutched their children tightly, men tensing up, hands edging closer to their gun belts if they had one. He chuckled under his breath.

“Good afternoon, folks!” Bilbo called out lazily, he looked relaxed and calm. “How’s everyone doin’? Ain’t it just a lovely day? Be a damn shame if somethin’ were to spoil it.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The tension in the air was thick, almost like a coiled spring ready to snap. Someone had the nerve to draw and before the man could fully raise his hand a shot rang out.

The man dropped his gun and held his now bleeding hand to himself. Bilbos right hand man had his gun pointed at the idiot who thought it was a good idea to grab his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… see my partner here, he’s got an itchy finger.” Bilbo chuckled softly.

At the edge of the crowd, Dís stood with her sons, Fíli and Kíli. Her instincts told her to fight, keep her children safe. And she desperately wanted to listen to it.

But she couldn’t, not without getting someone killed. She held her sons back as they stepped forward, their own hands reaching for their guns.

With a gentle squeeze on their shoulders she got their attention “Stay calm,” she whispered to them, her eyes never leaving Bilbo.

Bilbo swung off his horse, strolling leisurely towards the bank. He nodded to Glóin as he stepped outside.

Bilbo’s gang slowly followed, spreading out behind him. “Now, I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Bilbo continued. “At least, not if I don’t have to. But my boys and I, we’re in need of some funds, and I’m sure your good banker here won’t mind making a generous donation.”

Glóin stepped forward, his face pale but not scared. “You won’t get away with this,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Bilbo laughed, a sound that made the townsfolk flinch. The laugh was too sweet for what was happening. “Oh, I think I will. See, I’ve got more men hidden around your little town- rooftops, alleys, you name it. You make a move, and they’ll turn this place into a shooting gallery.”

A wave of fear swept through the crowd. They glanced nervously at the rooftops and shadows, imagining invisible gunmen lurking there, ready to unleash hell.

Fíli and Kíli tensed beside their mother, their eyes flicking towards the distant hills where their uncle had ridden not long ago. They needed to get him, now.

Dís felt the tremor of fear in her sons, and in that moment, she made a decision. She tilted her head towards Fíli and whispered urgently, “Fíli, you and Kíli go. Ride fast, find your uncle, bring him back.”

Fíli hesitated, his eyes wide. “But, Ma-”

“Go!” she hissed, “I’ll handle this!”

Before the boys could argue further, Dís stepped forward, raising her hands high. “Wait! Wait!” she shouted, drawing all eyes, including Bilbo’s, to her.

Bilbo cocked his head, curiosity piqued. “Howdy ma’am, pleasure to meet ya, who might you be?”

Dís forced a smile, stepping into the open. “Just a mother, hoping to keep her children safe,” she said, voice steady even as her heart raced. “You say you’re not here to hurt anyone- then prove it. Let these people go about their day. You want money? Take it and leave.”

Bilbo’s grin widened. He sauntered closer, he began to prowl around her. “Now, now, that’s quite a proposal. So what makes you think you can negotiate with me?”

“Because, I know you’re bluffing,” Dís said, her eyes blazing with a defiant spark. “If you had as many men as you say, you wouldn’t need to make threats. You’d have already started shooting.”

A hush fell over the street. For a moment, even Bilbo looked surprised, caught off guard. Behind Dís, Fíli and Kíli took the chance to slip away, moving silently through the crowd, unnoticed by the gang members whose focus was entirely on their mother.

Bilbo glared at her and pointed up behind her to a rooftop where a gunman was, he had a shotgun aimed at her “are you sure…? My dear you seemed to have misjudged.”

Dís glared back “one extra gunner-“ Bilbo points at another on the bell tower of the church. “Two then, show me another and I’ll believe you.”

Bilbo’s smile slowly faded. “You’re a sharp one, ain’t you?” he said, his tone darkening. “Maybe too sharp for your own good.”

Dís’s heart pounded, but she held her ground, she pulls give her sons all the precious seconds they needed, no matter what.

Fíli and Kíli had at that point reached the edge of town, a horse waited for them. Without a word, they mounted and Fíli spurred it into a gallop, racing towards the hills.

Bilbo’s eyes flicked to the fleeing boys just as they vanished from sight. His smile returned. “Looks like we’re gonna have some fun after all.”

He turned back to his men. “Inside the bank!” he barked. “And make it quick. We’ve got company coming.”

The gang moved into action, shoving Glóin into the building as they went inside the bank. He protested loudly. Loud enough to still hear him outside.

Dís watched as her sons disappeared over the ridge, a silent prayer on her lips that they would reach Thorin in time.

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The hills outside Ered were grassy and scattered rocks, with the occasional stubborn tree jutting its way up.

Thorin and Dwalin had their horses trotting along slowly, scanning for any sign of Bifur. The old prospector had a habit of wandering off into the wilderness, especially after his accident.

The poor man had a hatchet stuck in his head, Óin says it’s a miracle that he could even still walk. Bifur’s mind seemed lost most days, chasing shadows only he could see.

“There,” Dwalin grunted, pointing ahead with a nod. A figure sat on a rocky outcrop, silhouetted against the bright sky. It was Bifur.

He looked as wild as he always does, muttering to himself as he gazed into the distance. Thorin began to wonder if he was lucid enough to sign.

Thorin and Dwalin swong themselves from their horses and approached cautiously, not wanting to startle Bifur.

As they drew closer, Thorin could make out Bifur’s soft mumbling. He was rattling off gibberish nonsense that always seemed to only make sense to him.

“Bifur,” Thorin called gently, stopping a few paces away. “It’s Thorin. Bofur sent me, your cousin? He’s worried about you.”

Bifur turned slowly, his eyes wide and unfocused. For a moment, he didn’t seem to recognize Thorin, his gaze flicking between the sheriff and the deputy beside him.

Thorin took another step closer to Bifur, his hands went up when the prospector, stepped away as if to run. Then, a spark of recognition lit in Bifur’s eyes, and his face softened.

“Thorin” Bifur signed and Thorin let out a sigh of relief, nodding slowly as the prospector’s hands moved silently. “I know you.”

Thorin smiled, trying to keep his tone light. “Yes, you do. And you know Bofur and Bombur too. They’re worried about you, Bifur. They want you to come back to town with us.”

Bifur shook his head, his brows notched together as his hands moved warily. “Can’t go back. The Shadows there. Always watching… waiting.”

Dwalin stepped forward, his voice was softer than normal. “It’s alright Bifur. We’ll help you get back safe.”

Bifur’s eyes darted around, scanning the horizon as if expecting something to emerge from the rocks. “You don’t see them,” he signed with quick movements. “The dead won’t stay dead, the shadows walk like men there.”

Thorin glanced at Dwalin, who gave a slight nod. They had to handle this carefully. Bifur was not dangerous, but he was unpredictable, and the last thing they wanted was to spook him further.

“Listen, Bifur,” Thorin said softly, crouching down to meet Bifur’s gaze directly. “Why don’t you come down from that rock and whatever you’re seeing, whatever you’re feeling, we can talk about it back in town.”

Bifur looked at Thorin more now and then to Dwalin, he took a step back away, both men showed their hands to him, “Bifur, out here, you’re exposed. It’s not safe. Let’s get you back to your family. To Bofur and Bombur. They miss you.” Dwalin offered with a kinder tone.

Bifur hesitated, He glanced at the hills behind him, then back at Thorin and Dwalin. He started down off the rocks, slowly moving to Thorin.

Thorin smiled, relief washing over him. “Good man, Bifur. We’ll take it nice and slow. Just follow us.”

They helped Bifur when he got closer, guiding him back to the horses. The man was unsteady, his eyes still darting about as if expecting to see the phantoms that haunted his mind. But with each step, he seemed to calm a little more.

Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a glance, Bifur had once been a kind fellow, not that he wasn’t now and not that he didn’t seem to have moments of clarity,

There was a time where Thorin wondered if the person who slit his grandfather’s throat was the same person who tried to bash Bifur’s skull in with a hatchet.

The sound of galloping hooves drew Thorin back to the present. He turned, spotting two riders approaching at breakneck speed.

His hand instinctively went to the gun at his hip, ready for anything. As the riders drew closer, he recognized their faces. He found himself hurrying a little closer.

It was his nephews. Thorin’s heart clenched with worry as he glanced back toward the town. Something was wrong.

“Uncle Thorin!” Fíli shouted as he and Kíli threw themselves from their horse, scrambling over to him, panic etched on their faces. “You need to come back! The town- there’s an outlaw!”

“Said his name is Bilbo Boggins!” Kíli added breathlessly.

“No, no! It was definitely Baggins!” Fíli corrected, his voice trembling.

Thorin’s heart tightened. Bilbo Baggins, the name was as infamous as it was unexpected. He knew what the name meant.

Thorin felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as he glanced at Dwalin, whose expression mirrored his own horror and panic.

“What’s he doing?” Thorin demanded, trying to steady his voice. He pushed Bifur to Fíli.

Kíli caught his breath. “He’s holding the town hostage. Says he’s got a dozen men hidden around. Mom distracted him so we could get away, Uncle!”

Thorin’s heart sank, then shattered at the thought of his sister risking herself. He wouldn’t lose her too. He wouldn’t let his nephews lose their mother.

He turned to Dwalin. “Mount up,” he ordered, already moving towards his horse. “Fíli, stay with Bifur. If you follow then keep a safe distance behind us and get him back to Bofur and Bombur if you can manage. Stay safe, both of you.”

Fíli nodded, though his eyes were wide and worried. Kíli grabbed his uncle’s pant leg, not ready to let him go. “What about you, Uncle?”

Thorin’s face hardened. “I’m going to deal with our new visitor.” With that, he spurred his horse forward, “Let’s go!” he shouted to Dwalin, who fell beside him.

They raced back towards Ered, the peaceful morning had now become a distant memory.

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By the time they reached the edge of town, Thorin could still see some of the townspeople. Most had been ushered into the general store and the doors were blocked and bard closed.

The rest were tied up and left in front of the store. And Dís was one of them. Two men were at the entrance of the bank guns drawn, one called into the bank as Thorin showed.

After a moment the doors slammed open and there stood Bilbo Baggins, his face covered by a white bandanna , his right hand man stepped out beside him, his face also covered.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo called out, his voice carrying over the din. “I’ve heard of you. The scary lawman turned legend. Some say you can never miss a shot.”

Thorin slid off his horse, Dwalin followed suit quickly, his hands hovering towards his gun. Even though Bilbo’s face was covered, Thorin could see the playful grin underneath it.

Then the first shot rang out, sharp and echoing across the town square, shattering the fragile stillness. Dwalin had fired at Bilbo, but he missed.

Bilbo huffed and shot back, his men soon followed his lead. Instinctively, Thorin and Dwalin ducked behind a water trough, bullets whizzing past them.

"Dwalin! Really? No negotiation?!" Thorin shouted over the din, gripping his revolver tightly.

Dwalin shrugged beside him, wincing as a bullet ricocheted off the edge of the trough, splintering the wood. “I had 'em, the sun just got in my eye…”

“Uh huh, sure.” Throin huffed, he ducked down lowered as his hat got blasted off. “Aww man, I like that hat…”

Dwalin huffed a chuckle at Throin and shook his head before popping up a bit and trying to shoot back.

Throin had to push Dwalin back down when a bullet narrowly avoided hitting Dwalin in the head. “keep your head down!”

Bilbo Baggins chuckled, his voice unnervingly calm amidst the gunfire. "Come on, Oakenshield! You've got quite the reputation. Show me what you've got!"

Thorin clenched his jaw, peering around the edge of the trough. Bilbo stood confidently in the middle of the street, a few of his men taking cover now behind wagons and barrels.

Thorin saw his chance, one of Bilbo's outlaws leaned out too far, aiming a shot at him from the roof from across the street. The outlaw fell from the roof, clutching his chest.

He squeezed the trigger, and the man dropped, his body crumpling to the ground.

"That's one," Thorin muttered under his breath. He moved swiftly, signaling to Dwalin to cover him as he darted to the side of a building.

Bilbo chuckled. "Ooh, nice shot! You keep that up, and I might have to start taking you seriously." Thorin's jaw tightened, but he kept his focus.

Another outlaw shot at him from a wagon. He lined up the shot, cocked his gun's hammer and squeezed the trigger again.

"Two," Thorin counted. He had to duck out of the way as a bullet ricocheted off the wall he was hiding behind.

Bilbo clapped his hands in mock applause. "Oh, very good, very good! But you're still outnumbered, Sheriff. How many bullets you got left? Think you can take us all?"

Throin growled, stepped out and shot at Bilbo, the outlaw just barely avoided the shot as he ducked behind a wall, his right hand man followed him quickly.

Dwalin glanced over at Thorin, Dwalin huffed and shot at them making one of the outlaws that was about to shoot Thorin duck back behind his cover and miss.

Throin slipped back where he was before, Dwalin soon joined him behind the wall. "He's trying to rile you up, don't let him get to you!" Thorin nodded, but he could feel the frustration bubbling up.

Bilbo's voice was like an itch he couldn't scratch, each word dripping with amusement. He huffed and shot across again behind a wagon after a moment Dwalin moved to fallow.

An outlaw popped up from nowhere with a rifle, aiming at Dwalin as the man ran. Thorin fired first, and the outlaw’s head snapped back as he fell to the ground.

"Three," Thorin called out through gritted teeth.

"Now, now," Bilbo chided, his tone mockingly sweet. "You're making this really boring for my boys. Can't you give them a bit of a chance?"

"You want a chance, Baggins?" Thorin shot back, his patience wearing thin. "Tell your men to lay down their guns and come quietly. Otherwise, I'll make sure you're the last man standing."

Bilbo laughed, a light, easy sound that grated on Thorin's nerves. "Well, I'm sure I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a schedule to keep."

Another outlaw shifted, trying to take advantage of Bilbo's distraction. Thorin whipped around and fired, hitting the man square in the chest.

The outlaw fell back with a grunt, his gun clattering to the ground. "Four," Thorin called.

His reputation wasn't a game, but Bilbo treated it like it was. Bilbo's smile wavered slightly but didn’t fall. "Well, well! That's four of mine down. But who's counting, right?" He winked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Thorin's patience snapped. "I am," he growled, Throin sprung up and stood on top of the wagon, and an outlaw popped up to shoot.

Throin nailed him in the head. The last outlaw dropped, leaving only Bilbo and his right-hand man, both still standing. “That’s five Baggins! Wanna make it 7?”

Bilbo stepped out, his grin strained beneath his bandanna. “Oh, you are fun, Sheriff. But now it’s just me and my friend here. And we’re not nearly as expendable.” As if on cue, Bilbo’s right-hand man lunged toward Thorin, a rifle clutched in his hands.

Before Thorin could react, the man crashed into him, both of them tumbling off the wagon and onto the dusty ground. The impact jolted Thorin’s breath from his lungs, and he fought to regain his footing as they rolled across the dirt. The rifle clattered out of the man’s hands, skidding across the ground, out of reach.

Thorin twisted, driving his elbow into the man’s ribs. The outlaw grunted in pain, his grip loosening just enough for Thorin to shove him off. Thorin scrambled to his feet, reaching for his revolver, but the outlaw was already up, tackling Thorin again before he could grab it.

They grappled in the dirt, exchanging blows, each trying to overpower the other. Thorin’s hand brushed the handle of his gun, but the man yanked him back, forcing him to focus on the struggle. They wrestled for control, boots kicking up dust as they struggled on the ground.

With a sharp twist, Thorin managed to throw the man off balance, sending him crashing into the side of the wagon. The outlaw groaned, shaking his head to clear it, while Thorin lunged for his gun, fingers closing around the cool metal.

But just as he did, the outlaw grabbed his rifle from where it had fallen nearby. They rose to their feet simultaneously, weapons in hand, both breathing hard from the scuffle.

Thorin fired first, but the man was fast, ducking behind a water barrel just in time. Thorin turned, his eyes scanning for Bilbo, but the outlaw leader was already on the move, darting from his cover with surprising speed.

Thorin spun, aiming to take the shot, but Bilbo was quicker than anticipated, and Thorin could react, Bilbo lunged forward and grabbed Gloin.

The man had managed to wriggle his way out of the doorway of the bank, his hands still bound tightly in front of him, a gag tied around his mouth.

Bilbo yanked the banker up to his feet, wrapping one arm around Glóin's chest and pressing the barrel of his revolver against the side of the man's head.

"Alright, everyone, hold up!" Bilbo shouted, his voice ringing out clear. "Or your good banker here gets a brand-new hole in his head!"

Thorin froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Glóin's eyes were wide, his face pale beneath the sweat and dirt that seemed out of place on the banker.

Thorin could see the desperate plea in Glóin's eyes, but he kept his gun trained on Bilbo trying to think of something, anything to say.

Before he could think to stop himself he was already talking "Let him go, Baggins," Thorin called out, hoping his voice sounded steady. "You don't need to hurt anyone."

"Oh, I really didn't want to, Sheriff," Bilbo replied. "But you haven’t and your friend hasn't left me much of a choice, now have you? How about you drop those guns, and maybe I'll think about letting your banker friend here go."

Dwalin's jaw was set, his hand steady on his weapon. "Like hell I will!" he yelled out. "He's bluffing, Thorin. We can take him."

Bilbo chuckled, his laughter maddeningly light and teasing "Is that what you think, Deputy?" He tightened his grip on Glóin, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against the man's temple, Glóin to wince. "I'm not bluffing. Now, toss your guns aside, or I'll paint the street with his brains."

Thorin's mind raced.

They were at a standoff, and Bilbo knew he held all the cards. "Alright, Bilbo," Thorin heard himself say. "We'll put down the guns. But you let Glóin go first."

Bilbo's eyes glinted with amusement behind his bandanna. "Oh, Sheriff, you think I'm new at this? I say guns first, then the banker goes free."

Thorin could feel Dwalin tensing beside him. "Don't do it, Thorin," Dwalin whispered urgently. "We can't let him leave. Not after what he's done."

"Dwalin, put the gun down," Thorin told Dwalin, turning to face his deputy.

But Dwalin's jaw clenched, and Thorin realized too late what was about to happen.

Dwalin's hand twitched, raised his gun and shot, but Bilbo was faster.

A gunshot cracked through the tense air, and Dwalin staggered back dropping his revolver, clutching his shoulder with a grunt of pain as he fell to one knee.

"Dwalin!" Thorin shouted, his voice sharp with fear and frustration.

Bilbo pressed the gun harder against Glóin's head, his smile never faltering. "Uh-uh, Sheriff," he warned.

"You make one more move, and your banker's brains decorate the street. Now, what's it gonna be?"

Thorin's frustration boiled over, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Bilbo, listen to me," he said, his voice low and steady. "Glóin has a family. He's not part of this. Just let him go."

For a moment, Bilbo hesitated, his grip on Gloin loosening just slightly. "I know he has a family, Oakenshield," he said, his tone almost sincere. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Sheriff. Honest, I don't. But I can't have you chasing me down the road. I need to make sure you don't follow."

Thorin nodded slowly, lowering his hands further. "Alright, Bilbo. We'll stay put. Just don't do anything stupid."

Bilbo's smirk returned, though his eyes darkened with determination. "Too late for that, Sheriff." In one swift motion, he pistol-whipped Glóin, sending the bound man crumpling to the ground, dazed and bleeding.

Before Thorin could react, Bilbo spun, firing a warning shot into the dirt at Thorin's feet. "Drop it!" he barked.

Thorin's revolver clattered to the ground without hesitation. Bilbo's right-hand man covered them as Bilbo mounted his horse in a single, fluid motion.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Sheriff!" Bilbo called mockingly, his voice once again full of mocking cheer. He spurred his horse, his right-hand man close behind, both of them racing out of town in a cloud of dust and grit.

Thorin watched them go, he groaned in frustration as anger boiled in his veins. He turned quickly to Dwalin, who was struggling to his feet, clutching his shoulder.

"You alright?" he asked as he looked his deputy over with concern.

Dwalin nodded, though his face was pale from the pain. "I'll live. What about Glóin?"

Thorin knelt by Gloin, checking his pulse and untying the gag from his mouth. "He's alive, just knocked out. Get Óin.

Make sure everyone else is safe," he ordered, looking out over the square.

Dwalin nodded and staggered off, Thorin could see his nephews, Kíli was uniting his mother and Fíli helped unbind the doors of the general store.

The dust from Bilbo's escape was still settling, but Thorin knew one thing for sure: he'd be ready when Bilbo Baggins came back around. And next time, there'd be no escape.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Note:

Okay I’m gonna stop it there. This was just kinda a little one shot for @shurikthereject ‘s western/cowboy au. The rest of this note is kind to them now. I tried to stay true to the shown characters and how you made them but I’m not the best at that. Also I wouldn’t mind making like a whole book for it but if you hate this and you don’t want me to continue I’d like to know. Or if you’d like me to change anything let me know. Okay bye.

[actual-kiwi-fruit]

Stray :D I love the game stray probably my second favorite game other than rain world

My favorite character(robot?) is clementine

[mandyyz]

Reiji Birthday countdown art I did! (1/4)

[thecowthrower]

Pretty old, but here’s this.

[minus19]

Lemonade wizard inspired by @jelloapocalypse ‘s new lemonade video in which he described a wizard with a juicer as a hat and I thought that was very clever. His wand is just another juicer but it glows. He wears rain boots cuz the ground is always covered in sticky lemonade wherever he goes