#i just like the wagon it's a good wagon of COURSE you can borrow the WAGON!!! ASK ME PLEASE I WILL SAY YES

[dynamicwinter-blog]

Oh my gods, yesssss, why can't people ever be specific about these things?!! It's like I'm in a foreign country where no one speaks English, and instead of translating or trying to teach some phrases, everyone just repeats what they said, but slower and louder!!!

The way most autism literature describes "literal interpretation" is often not at all similar to how I experience it. Teenage me even thought I couldn't be autistic because I've always been able to learn metaphors easily.

In fact, I love wordplay of all kinds. Teenage me was fascinated to learn all the types of figurative language there are in poetry and literature.

But paperwork and questionnaires are hard, because there's so much they don't state clearly. Or they don't leave room for enough nuance.

"List all the jobs you've had, with start and end dates." What if I don't remember the exact day or month? Is the year enough?

"Have you been suffering from blurred vision?" Well, if I take off my glasses the whole world is blurred, but I'm fairly sure that's not what the intake form at the optometrist is asking.

Or the infamous (and infuriatingly stereotypical) "Would you rather go to a library or a party?" What sort of party? Where? Who's there? I work at a library. Am I currently at the library for work or pleasure? Does it have a good collection?

It's not common figures of speech that confound me. It's ambiguity, in situations that aren't supposed to be ambiguous.

[hahahafangirl]

your suo analysis is really good, im reading it again to really let it soak! do you have more thoughts on how suo and kiryu parallel, or maybe they're more perpendicular? I think it's interesting how they have similar vibes but opposite reactions: both blunt but one leans more "kind" (suo), and the other leans more "rude" (kiryu). suo fakes the funk a little, and kiryu doesn't (and sakura just doesn't know how either way, really ends up being both)

Hiii!!! Thank you so much for reading, and sorry for the long wait; I got a little bit too into this and has formulated a plan for a more thorough analysis, but I can show you what I have for now-- very interesting parallels between these two "polite" and "courteous" young men, indeed!

What particularly sparks my thoughts is your suggestion that they are "perpendicular", and of course the observation that they are similar vibes but opposite reactions. The nuance in how they "fake" their funk is interesting too, and I think in general I can make these observations:

They both have traditional and rebellious components, but are opposite in each category.

How Kiryu's backstory was developed is likely very informative of how Suo's backstory will be developed

To start off, I think it's interesting how Kiryu and Suo are both... similar and very distinct (lol, what a helpful sentence). At the first glance they are both gentlemen. one more layer down, both rude (to the people they do not respects) and very scathing. What's more, they both "play up" their acts/performance to hide something underneath (Kiryu in his arc, Suo... as we suspect from his social evasion).

Yep, this is just straight up disrespectful, lol.

Nice, but how nice? Not at all.

Another thing is that they are both incredibly caring and emotionally intelligent people (we have a whole stock of 'em in Wind Breaker! yay!). Kiryu is also incredibly straightforward and bold, much like Suo is, though I think he smooths his words over less:

He respects Tsugeura, but will gladly tell him off.

Kiryu doesn't hate Tsuge! He is just very straightforward!

And, if protecting the girl isn't telling enough, he cares for her safety, even if he doesn't express it-- like how Suo naturally prioritize keeping non-combatants safe.

And it was Suo, who is equally emotionally intelligent and has equivalent battle-sense, who knows what Kiryu is doing and addresses it.

Thematically, what is interesting is where Kiryu or Suo rebels and the other don't. Let's start with Kiryu: He is very much gender-rebellious: pink, long hair, patterned shirt (nothing strictly gendered, mind you, but they are not considered so in the general cultural climate). This is supported by his character profile, where he hates "close-minded" people. In the KEEL arc, ch 48 - 49, he was directly insulted for his "gender performance" (borrowing the term from Judith Butler and gender studies in general)

And Kiryu unrepentantly re-enforces his own gender rebellion

Oops, split end~

Later on, we see that while Kiryu enjoys this act, he especially put it on with the explicit intention of rebelling against his father. He plays it up where appropriate, but I think Kiryu genuinely enjoys the act-- like how he joined Furin for the rebel and ended up liking it for what it is at the end of the day.

On this aspect of appearance and gender performance, Suo is the direct opposite: he dresses conservatively, have short hair, and in general has the very air of a traditional, polite young man

Even his earrings, the only thing that may be argued as "not masculine", are antique -- thus likely gender-accordance. This is the friend you'd bring home to grandma!

Unexpectedly, then, Suo's fighting can be taken as more rebellious/less traditional, while Kiryu's is traditionally learned. Though he has a teacher, Suo's fighting style is a hodge-podge of different styles; having a self-taught teacher also likely means they have the space to innovate the forms as appropriate, outside of the usual wagon wheel track:

(As a side note on this, for a hodge-podge style of martial arts, Suo has really good forms; which makes sense. You can't really do much if you don't have a good basics lol. Then, you can do whatever the hell you want.)

Meanwhile, Kiryu "submitted" himself to the family traditional training, which he hated, for the purpose of defending Akari

I just realized that the purpose of learning martial arts is for "rebellion" in Kiryu's case, and self-defense/offense, in Suo's case -- quite a traditional reason to fight. Again, the two of them opposite in forms and intentions.

I'm sure there are more things, but maybe I will see them as I mull over the text a little more... it also would help if Suo's backstory is soon, lol.

As for the next thing, i.e. how can Kiryu's arc inform Suo's arc progression? My primary basis for this is how Kiryu's arc was introduced in KEEL, where mid-fight, we begin to learn tidbits about Kiryu's personal philosophy. Here, the theme of "Rebellion" (also the title of chapter 48) was introduced; specifically, as the only information we knew then, it refers to (Kiryu's own) "gender rebellion". The chapter also supplied a concrete visual of who the rebellion is for

While Kiryu, in his earlier arc, talks a lot about being popular with girls, we may assume that it is pertaining to his interest in dating/being popular with girls his age. Only later on does it have the explicit intention of making girls comfortable, regardless of whether he wants to court them or not (notedly, he never was shown actually courting a girl-- it was a ruse setup to contrast Kiryu's actual character).

This is very similar progression to Suo's fight against Oobiki in KEEL, where, also mid-fight, he begins to reveal his/his master's philosophy regarding teaching, in the titular chapter "Discipline":

Also the first visual of (presumably) his Master, in a similar narrative role as Akari-- but further away. Will this distance becomes relevant, perhaps?

(Also, funnily enough, I was about to make the argument that Suo is not verbally as scathing as Kiryu, but then this chapter reminded me that he absolutely can be, lol. And at the same narrative stage (during KEEL), Kiryu also delivered his most scathing line!)

So I suspect that just like the theme of rebellion being subtly subverted from Kiryu's gender performance -> respecting women and making girls comfortable, which was previously hinted by the subversion of Kiryu's dating a girl -> he was keeping her safe, we can expect that the theme of discipline as training and passing down your teachings, respect ("How are you supposed to act when you go barging in to another person's home?"), will be satisfactorily and subtly subverted in some way. I don't have an orientation for how it will be subverted just yet, but I bet it will be as good and satisfying as Kiryu's arc (regardless of how angsty it will be lol). We probably can take a stab at guessing, since Kiryu's subversion was also foreshadowed. Given that Suo is now Nirei's master... there is already a subversion from learning how to defend yourself -> "but if I were to teach you," ... learning how to defend yourself and deal damage... Perhaps a conflict or innovation from his master's teaching? Many, many possibilities are ahead!

Thank you so much for the insightful ask, and I hope you found my answer interesting!!

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Epilogue 2

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to save the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter

Word count: 4.5k

TW: sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well), she/her pronouns

Note: This is the end and I'm in tears :'D

The Thoroughbred flaps his ears, as he happily munches on the oatcake you're holding out to him. He has been with you since he was a foal, born and raised in your stable. No one could ever replace Penthesilea of course, but you love the stallion just as much as you had loved your precious girl.

"What's his name?", you hear someone ask behind you and you turn around on your heels with a startled gasp.

"John! Don't fucking sneak up on me like that!", you scold him, your lips tightly pressed together into a grim line.

"Sorry. Thought I made enough noise when I came in.", he says, his hands raised high in surrender.

A sigh leaves your lips and you give your stallion a soft pat on the neck. "This is Montgomery. I raised him myself."

The man hums in understanding and studies the horse a bit closer. It's evident on his face, that there is something he wants to talk about, but you don't push it. Instead you continue spoiling Montgomery in content silence.

"This might sound crazy, but...", he then finally starts and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "I bought one of 'em pre-cut houses."

"You went to Mr. Cakes?", you ask with a raised eyebrow.

"You know that guy?"

"I sure do."

Everyone in Blackwater and around the outskirts knows at least of Albert Cakes. The building material he sells are of fine quality, but he's quite the personality to put it mildly. He's nice, incredibly helpful even, but also extremely all over the place. You can't even begin to count the amount of times he has mixed you up with someone entirely else.

But perhaps he just has a large amount of customers. It's difficult to keep track of all of them, you suppose. The ones you and Arthur deal with are mostly regulars, folk who come to rent your wagons and Shires every now and then.

Without another word, you signal for John to follow you to the back and hold out the reigns of a horse to him.

"Two wagons is all we will need.", you say and the two of you make your way outside. He throws you a puzzled look over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"The material.", you answer in a matter of fact way. "How else are you going to bring it to your ranch? You wanna carry all that by yourself?"

Then he stops dead in his tracks and turns his entire body to you. "How much would it cost? Renting out your stuff, I mean."

"Don't be ridiculous, John."

He follows you, as you get the horses ready, his expression a worried mask. "You're not lettin' me borrow this for free, are you?"

"Of course!", you exclaim and throw your arms up. "The road from Blackwater to Beacher's Hope isn't too far, but we'd need to make a stop up in the woods first."

"For what?"

"You don't plan on building your house with thoughts and prayers, do you?" You cross your arms and lean against a wheel. "There's this Norwegian feller, Nils. He makes very good tools and he knows us."

"I-" John's voice falters and he runs a hand over his mouth. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"You can thank me by using exclusively our services, once you get that ranch of yours going."

An amused huff escapes him. "Oh, now I see how it is."

As you walk back into the stable, you grab a Carbine Repeater you keep hidden under your desk next to the entrance and walk back out again. John scrutinizes you with a confused expression while you check the ammunition.

"Go grab Charles. Arthur and I will meet you in Blackwater and then we can load the material.", you tell him and he motions with his chin towards the weapon.

"What's that for?"

"There's a pretty mean gang around these parts at the moment. The Skinners. Have you heard of them?" He shakes his head as a 'no' and you continue your explanation. "They're real nasty, so take some strong guns with you."

A thoughtful noise leaves his throat, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he mounts his horse and rides off.

---

Arthur and you park the two wagons on the side of the road and he rushes over to help you off the driver's seat. A deep, worried crease has taken form between his eyebrows and he looks anything but happy.

"You should let us get the tools and stay back.", he grumbles and you immediately shake your head.

"Absolutely not.", you respond in a tone that won't tolerate any protest. "You guys will need all the guns you need."

"The three of us will be enough.", he argues, but you wave it off.

"But four is better and I can work a gun just fine. You know, that I won't let you put yourself in danger by yourself."

"And we all know how well that went last time, don't we?" His words are harsher than he has expected himself, judging by the way his eyes go wide in slight shock. Immediately, his rough features soften and he takes both your hands in his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay."

"No. It ain't." Arthur plants a soft kiss on your forehead. "I don't want anythin' to happen to you."

"Nothing will happen. We will have Charles and John with us."

As if on cue, the two men appear on horseback and hitch their rides close to you. Right after their arrival, the four of you get to work and load the wagons with planks and other material. Arthur and Charles are driving ahead with the first one leading the way to Nils. John and you are following behind.

"Have you heard anything from Abigail and Jack yet?", you ask and watch him from the side. Upon hearing the names, his face slightly drops.

"No, but I'll write them." There's a pause. "I just wanna get things goin' first. Have somethin' to show, you know?"

"I think that's a great idea, John."

The rest of the drive continues on in comfortable silence. That and your gaze scanning your surroundings and listening to every single sound. It's not that you're overly nervous about an ambush. Every sane outlaw would be thinking twice about robbing you and those three mean looking men you're with.

Once you arrive at the cabin, you tell Arthur and Charles to wait while John and you make your way into the garden. Nils is working in the back and you shoot him a bright smile when you get closer.

"Hey, Nils!", you greet him, but he keeps his gaze on his work. "We were wondering if you have some tools for us to buy?"

"Okay.", the Norwegian answers not much to your surprise. He has always been a man of very few words.

"My friend John here bought that place at Beacher's Hope."

"Okay."

"We can also pay you upfront."

The pair of you follow the man, as he picks up a tool box and walks to your wagon. "Okay."

Without saying anything else, he loads the box onto the back and disappears in his garden. John gives you a strange look, but you wave it off and jog after the Norwegian to give him the cash. Once everything is settled, you find yourself on the way again.

"That was...somethin'.", John comments while steering the horses and you hum in agreement.

"He is a bit odd, I agree. But his work is fantastic. You will see once you start building your stuff."

As you get closer to the edge of the forest, you begin to relax in the seat. So far you haven't been ambushed and you doubt the Skinners will do so when you're out in the open again. Just as you lean back and let out a sigh, something flies right past your nose and into a tree trunk.

Your eyes widen when you recognize that it's an arrow and you quickly push John off. The two of you crouch behind the wagon and you swing the Carbine Repeater off your shoulder. A fast look to the side tells you that Arthur and Charles have taken cover as well and relief washes over you.

Some of them shoot with bows and arrows, but others use guns as well. It's difficult to find an opening for you to shoot, having to be careful about not being impaled. In the corner of your eyes you spot something stir and you breath gets caught in your throat.

One of the men is charging at John, his machete raised high and you aim. The man goes down, producing a few gurgling noises before going completely limb. Your friend mumbles a breathless 'thanks' before focusing on the fight again.

"Those bastards stole the tools!", Arthur shouts and you hiss a curse.

Once all the Skinners are down and you get to catch your breath again, Arthur and John are already sprinting for the trees. Charles and you stay behind and on high alert in case more of them try to steal the rest of your cargo.

Waiting for the two men to return takes an agonizingly long time and you grow anxious. Your gaze is fixed on the tree line and you pace back and forth like a tiger in a cage. Charles eventually puts his big hand on your shoulder and you stop in your tracks.

"They'll be fine."

"They jumped us out of nowhere.", you murmur with a shake of your head and run a hand over your face.

"I know." He turns his head towards the direction Arthur and John had run off to. "But try not to worry too much."

A deep sigh escapes your lips and you let out a dry chuckle. "It was very peaceful before you, John and Uncle showed up, you know?"

Your words were meant as a joke, nothing too harsh. Charles laughs at that and nods along.

"That I can imagine."

A great weight is being lifted off your shoulders when the bushes begin to rustle and the two men step into sight. They both look exhausted, but all in all still in one piece. With a relieved gasp, you lean back against one of the wheels and you quickly resume your drive.

At Beacher's Hope, Uncle is sitting under a tree with his hat deep in his face. The volume of his snoring had probably alarmed every animal in the area and John looks like he's about to explode. With his features contorted into an angry mask, he stomps over to the old man and gives him a good, strong kick.

"Weren't you supposed to stand guard?", he shouts while the three of you load off the wagons.

"You took so long!", the older man defends himself and John waves it off before joining you again.

"You're useless!"

It takes almost the entire rest of the day to set everything up to get started and John is bend over the table, inspecting the instructions. His gaze is a mix of thoughtfulness and slight doubt. It seems like he still doesn't quite trust those pre-cut houses.

"We should get these wagons back.", Arthur starts, walking up to the first one. "I'll come back tomorrow mornin' again."

You shoot your husband a warm smile upon hearing that. The fact that he's going to come back to help build the house makes you incredibly happy and proud. He tries his utmost best to not make a big deal out of it, but you can tell that he's glad to have his family back.

Quickly you jump onto the second wagon and you both drive them back to your stable. After parking and getting the horses ready for the night, you retreat into your own home. It's a small and humble, yet cozy cabin. The cooking, eating and sitting area is all connected with a hearth in the middle to keep your warm.

On the side are two doors to separate the bedroom and washing room. Even though back then, your budget didn't quite allow it, Arthur had still insisted on buying a large tub. As you get on making dinner, he lights a fire in the hearth. Once you're done with your evening routine, you find yourself cuddled up to his side in the bed you two share.

"I'm glad they're here.", you whisper into the darkness, as your hand rubs his broad chest.

The moon shines a faint light through the window to the side, but the curtains block out most of it.

"I thought you was mad.", he counters with that raspy chuckle of his. "Seemed like it everytime we all got together."

"That's because everytime we got together, someone shot at us.", you immediately argue and feel his arms wrap around your hips.

In one swift motion he pulls you ontop of him and even in the dim light, you can see the lazy smile and gleam in his eyes. The way his hands roam your sides sends a warm feeling from your chest down to your stomach.

"We'll be alright. All this will be alright.", he murmurs against your lips, before pressing his own on them.

The kiss is gentle and slow, as if he's trying to savor you and your taste and you melt into his touch. Even after all these years together, he still manages to turn you into a puddle of molten wax in his arms.

---

The next few days, Arthur is a lot more absent. Half of his week he works at the stables, but the half he spends helping the others on the house. You ride over with Montgomery to pay them a visit every few days or so and the progress leaves you impressed everytime.

"My my, gentlemen.", you call out, as you dismount your stallion and walk over to the half-build structure. "Can't believe that this is still standing."

"You have no idea, my dear.", Uncle chimes in from the side and shakes his head, as if he's disappointed about something. "It's like these morons have never build anything in their entire life."

His words get a small chuckle out of you, but John raises his hammer in the old man's direction. The motion is menacing and you don't doubt for a second, that he's serious.

"If I hear one more goddamn word from that big mouth of yours..." He doesn't finish his threat, but he doesn't have to to get the wanted effect.

Uncle throws up his hands in surrender and backs off with a nervous laugh. While the three men get back to work, you try to help here and there as well. Though you can't linger for too long with your own business needing attention.

Once you lead Montgomery back into his spot and brush the dust off his coat, the familiar squeaking of the front door cuts through the air. A customer.

"I'll be with you in a second!", you shout over to them, not looking up from what you're doing.

"Don't let me wait too long.", the person answers and you nearly jump out of your riding boots.

As you take a peak from around your horse, you spot Sadie standing at the entrance with a bright grin on her face. Immediately, you run up to her and fall into her arms.

"You idiot! Why didn't you write me that you were coming?", you scold her half-heartedly.

"And ruin the surprise?", she asks with a raised eyebrow.

You usher her outside and towards your homestead closeby. There you leave her on one of the chairs on your porch and disappear inside, only to come back out with two glasses and a bottle of whisky. It's a special brand, one that Mary Linton had sent you as a wedding gift.

The whisky had been aged in sherry casks, giving it a sweet undertaste and you usually keep it stored for special occasions. Such as when your best friend spontaneously drops by. The first time you had opened one of the bottles was when Arthur and you bought the stables and the house. The second time was when you became business partners with James, an opportunity that had you pay off your bank loan in just a few months.

"What brings you here? Another bounty?", you ask while pouring in the liquor.

"Yes. It's kind of a nasty one. Ramone Cortez, if that tells ya anythin'." That name does ring a bell in your head and you nod. "I was thinkin' about askin' for Marston's help."

"John? You two have been working together?"

"Yes, when the reward is good enough to share."

"I see." You pause for a moment. "They're building a house right now. You could stay the night here, with us and then ride out with him tomorrow."

She seems to contemplate your offer for a while, swirling the alcohol around in her glass. "Sure. If you have room. I don't mean to intrude."

"You're not intruding at all.", you immediately exclaim, shaking your head profusely. "You could never."

"Oh, I don't know." A sly smirk begins to spread over her face and she throws you a meaningful look from the side. "Don't wanna interrupt whatever you and your husband dearest do in your free time."

A shy chuckle escapes you and you playfully slap her shoulder. "Shut up."

After a while of chatting and more drinks, the sun starts to set, painting the sky and prairie in a deep red. The sound of hooves can be heard approaching in the distance and you watch Arthur ride onto your property. An amused scoff leaves his throat when his eyes land on you and Sadie.

"I see how it is.", he grumbles, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "While I work my ass off, buildin' Marston's dream house, you two are sittin' here all comfortable and drinkin' the day away."

His teasing makes the two of you cackle louder than it should have. Arthur might be right. The whisky might have gone to your head a little and you press a hand against your cheek, noting how hot your skin feels.

"We was discussin' uh...business.", Sadie drawls, dragging the words out in a slurring way.

"What she said.", you hastily chime in and your husband waves it off while leading his horse away.

With wobbly knees, you push yourself off the chair and Sadie follows your actions. She helps you gather the glasses and the almost empty bottle and the two of you stumble your way into the house.

---

Several weeks pass after that until John has his house up. You wake up in the morning to an empty bed and pinch the bridge of your nose with a chuckle. It only makes sense that Arthur had stayed over there to celebrate their success. With a grunt, you kick back the blanket and get yourself ready for the day.

You do your morning chores as quickly as possible and prepare Montgomery to ride out. It won't cause any harm to drop by and see how the men are doing. Just making sure, that they didn't wreck the newly build house during their celebration.

The homestead is standing high in the distance, filling your chest with joy and pride. Those feelings are quickly snuffed out when you notice the many specks of blood on the ground. Quickly, you dismount and barge through the front door. Frantically, your eyes jump from one place to another.

There's Arthur and here's John. Charles is just over there in the back, so that only leaves...

"Where's Uncle?", you bark and they all groan in unison. They're all looking around, grunting and disoriented. Charles is the first one to be up and about, meeting your gaze with a clear expression.

"Uncle! Where is he?", you repeat and motion for him to follow you outside.

A concerned noise leaves his throat when you point at the blood and he searches the area for more clues. After a few minutes, Arthur and John come stumbling out and squint their eyes at the bright sunlight.

"Relax.", your husband says with a wave off his hand. "That old bastard is probably sleepin' by a tree or somethin'."

"No.", Charles argues, his shoulders all tensed up. "He's been taken."

"Taken? By who?", John asks and you feel a pit form in your stomach, already knowing the answer.

"The Skinner Brothers."

That sobers the other two men up right away and they grab their guns before rushing over to their horses. Before you can mount Montgomery, Arthur extends an arm out infront of you and you give him a puzzled look.

"You ain't comin'.", he says, his tone firm. "I want you to ride back home."

"Excuse me?" Your voice comes out harsher than intended.

"You saw them when we got those tools." He stares at you, his eyes cold and demanding, but there is something else behind them. A plea. "This is too dangerous."

"You should know by now, that I'd rather get killed than let you go off by yourself."

Pain flickers behind that stern mask of his and he let's out a defeated sigh. "You'll just follow us."

"Exactly."

With that you hoist yourself onto horseback and follow Charles to the forest. Before entering it, you all continue the way on foot under the cover of shrubs. A patrol passes you, which you successfully evade and then follow a wagon that is dragging a man behind it. His agonizing sounds send a shiver down your spine.

The driver stops momentarily and gets off the wagon to pick up the poor soul, who is now laying lifeless in the undergrowth. Charles shoots an arrow right through his skull, killing the gang member silently. After that is done, you find an elevated spot to oversee the camp. Much to your surprise, it's completely empty.

The hair on the back of your neck is standing up, as you take the chance to approach Uncle. They have tied him up over the campfire and your stomach turns upside down at the sight of his burned back. You and Charles quickly go to untie him and support him on either side.

"I don't like this.", Arthur grumbles and you hum in agreement.

It does seem suspicious that no one was guarding the camp or Uncle. Though before you can even voice your concerns, an arrow whizzes past your face and you almost drop the older man. He screams in pain at your sudden movement and you mumble a quick apology, unsure if he even hears it.

Armed men come charging you from all sides and you force your legs to carry the older man towards your horses that are waiting just up ahead. Arthur and John are firing shots left and right and you can't do anything but trust that they will keep you safe and untouched.

A hysterical shout can be heard and you lift your gaze to watch one of the Skinner Brothers sprint right at you.

What is it with them and their damned machetes?

Almost immediately he comes crashing to the ground, a gaping hole right between his eyes. You give Arthur a thankful smile, but he only ushers you forward. Even on horseback they chase your through the woods. Having the fastest horse out of all of the men, you're riding up ahead with Uncle sitting right behind you. Every now and then you feel his grip on you falter and you have to reach back to keep him steady and conscious.

Back at the ranch, you lay him down on the stomach and tend to his wounds as best as you can. Arthur rides into Blackwater right after to get the town's doctor. Uncle's pained screams and groans fill the room and you do your hardest to stay composed.

"You'll get through this, old man.", John says, directed at him.

---

A couple more months pass. Uncle's back is fully healed now and John has his ranch up and running. You and him are standing infront of his house and going over a contract when you hear the familiar rattling of wagon wheels. His expression changes from focused to utter shock when his eyes land on the two people driving in.

It's Abigail and Jack and you can't fight the grin that spreads from cheek to cheek when you watch him run up to them. You avert your gaze, giving their reunion some privacy. A couple moments later, a shadow is being cast over you and you look up to meet Abigail, who pulls you into a hug.

"How'd you like the place?", you ask, watching her as she takes everything in.

She looks like someone has handed her all the riches in the world on a silver platter. That is probably exactly what she's experiencing right now.

"It's amazing. I-" She turns to you. "John wrote in his letter that you and Arthur have been a great help."

"Of course."

Everything after that goes by slow, but in a peaceful and comfortable way. You manage to organize a partnership between John and Agnes' father, the shopkeeper in Blackwater. The ranch is booming with business and so are your stables.

Abigail's and John's wedding are a perfect way to finish it all off, only that you're forced to part ways with your friends again. Shortly after all that, Charles leaves for Canada. That already has your eyes well up, but Sadie's departure has both tears and snot practically shooting out of you.

"Oh can't you stay?", you ask through sobs and you watch her get emotional as well.

"There's nothin' left here for me."

You understand. Of course you do. Although she has become somewhat of a sister to you, you know that she has never been truly happy after losing Jake.

Arthur holds you close that night, not letting go for a single moment. His rough thumbs brush the tears away and he kisses you until your lips are red and swollen. Parting ways with her hurt, but you manage. Many years pass and you continue living a comfortable live with Arthur right by your side.

---

1934

It's a beautiful day out. The bowl hat on your head shields your eyes from the sun, but you still have to squint to see better. It's odd being back at where you started in that now old body of yours. Memories of a time long ago flood your mind, as you pass the streets of your old neighborhood.

Before taking the journey upon yourself, you were worried that you might not know the way anymore. How foolish. Of course you know the way. You have walked it in your mind and dreams many times. After turning a few corners and crossing the street a couple times, you stop at a door.

Doubts cross your mind, but you know it's important that you do this. Will he be furious? Surely. Will he yell at you? Definitely. But do you have to sit through it to stop him from bringing you back? Absolutely.

You would have almost forgotten about it, if you hadn't looked at the newspaper Arthur reads every morning. The date and year have hit you like a freight train and you had rushed out of the house, leaving your husband confused and worried. Though he trusts you and knows better than to question your odd behavior, knowing you have been this way since you first met.

Taking a deep breath, you ring the doorbell and wait. It only takes a few seconds, but to you it feels like years are passing until you're being greeted with a face you haven't seen in ages. The smile on your lips is awkward and unsure, as you stand before him, a graying and scarred woman.

"Hello, Francis."

Taglist: @shackspossum @abducted-cowz @heloixe @onyxlune

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Vampire Wedding Part 1

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Drake: "I'm home!"

Drake returned from a spontaneous outing late in the evening.

Mitsuki: "Welcome back. You're late. Where have you been?"

Drake: "Well, I stopped by a tavern and got into a lively conversation with some folks there."

After saying that, he grinned and looked at me.

Mitsuki: "Is something wrong?"

Drake: "Nah, I just thought you looked as beautiful as ever, little fawn."

Mitsuki: "Hehe, what's with the sudden compliment? Do you need a favor?"

Drake: "Not a favor, more like an invitation."

Drake: "How about a date on the sea at night?"

Mitsuki: "Eh, date?"

Surprised by the unexpected invitation, he deepened his mischievous smile.

Drake: "I met a generous guy at the tavern who let me borrow his ship."

Drake: "I thought we could have a fancy night cruise. What do you say, Mademoiselle?"

Mitsuki: "Wow, that sounds wonderful! I'd love to go!"

Drake: "That's the spirit."

Drake: "Then, let's go tomorrow. There's something I want to show you."

Mitsuki: "Something you want to show me?"

Drake: "It's a secret."

He winked meaningfully.

Drake: "It's my special treat, so look forward to it."

Mitsuki: "Hehe, got it. I'm really looking forward to it!"

After chatting about various things, I fell asleep without realizing it.

I awoke to a sensation of something touching my cheek.

Drake: ".........."

When I groggily opened my eyes, I saw Drake peering at me, gently stroking my cheek.

Drake: "A blood oath, huh?"

Drake murmured.

(Blood oath?)

I was curious, but my consciousness soon drifted back to sleep.

The next day, I hurried to finish my chores, and by evening, I headed to the port where we had arranged to meet.

(What will a night cruise be like? And what could Drake's special surprise be?)

Vlad: "Bonjour, Mitsuki."

Suddenly, I heard a voice and turned around to see Vlad pulling a flower wagon.

Vlad: "The sun is about to set. Are you going out now?"

Mitsuki: "Yeah, I'm going on a date with Drake tonight."

Vlad: "That sounds great. Have fun."

As he smiled, the words I heard last night crossed my mind.

Mitsuki: "Hey, Vlad. Do you know what a blood oath is?"

He looked surprised for a moment, then smiled softly.

Vlad: "Of course."

Vlad: "A blood oath is a traditional wedding ceremony in the vampire world."

Mitsuki: "A wedding ceremony?"

Vlad: "On the night of the full moon, the groom pledges 'eternity' by biting on the bride's ring finger."

(I never thought it held such significance.)

(But today was definitely a new moon, so it doesn't matter, right?)

Mitsuki: "Thank you for telling me. I should go now."

Vlad: "Yeah, have a good night."

As the sun completely set, the ship smoothly sailed through the dark sea.

Leaning on the railing and gazing at the pitch-black surface of the sea, Drake, who was standing next to me, gently pulled me closer.

Drake: "I've got to hold you so that you don't get pulled into the sea."

With a mischievous grin, Drake made me recall the word "wedding."

(I hope Drake and I can experience that someday.)

I couldn't help but swoon as I dreamed about a future where the two of us were pledging our eternal love.

(Drake probably doesn't want to willingly enter into a blood oath. Besides, the night of the full moon would be difficult due to the bloodlust.)

Drake: "Hey, little fawn? Is something wrong?"

Mitsuki: "Ah..."

Drake's hand gently tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Drake: "Pay attention. The show's about to start."

Mitsuki: "Show? What are you...?"

As I tilted my head in confusion, a streak of pale blue light illuminated the dark sea.

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

The light swiftly spread where I was looking, and the sea surface, which had been pitch black until just now, was now enveloped in a faint glow.

Drake: "This is my special surprise. Beautiful, isn't it?"

Mitsuki: "Yeah, it's amazing. Truly beautiful, but what’s actually happening?"

Enthralled by the waves of light washing over us, I nodded dreamily multiple times.

Drake: "Sailors say that these lights represent the souls of our departed comrades, scattered into the sea."

Drake: "When they spot a ship sailing at sea on a moonless night, they guide it safely back to port."

Mitsuki: "So they're watching over us?"

Drake: "Yeah."

Drake: "And for us, this light holds another special meaning."

Mitsuki: "Another special meaning? What's that?"

Before he answered, he gazed deeply into my eyes.

Drake: "Within this light, sailors traditionally propose to their loved ones."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Drake’s eyes, as he gazed at me, lacked his usual carefree demeanor.

Drake: “Mitsuki. I want to make you my treasure.”

Drake: “Will you marry me?”

I nodded with a smile, feeling my eyes well up with joy and love at the earnest words that reached straight into my heart.

Mitsuki: “Of course, I’ve been yours for a long time already.”

Mitsuki: “Please always stay by my side.”

Drake: “Mitsuki.”

As he called my name with deep emotion, he embraced me tightly.

I wrapped my arms around his broad back and felt his warm breath.

Drake: “I wish I could say you’re mine forever now, but there’s one more thing we need to do.”

Drake: “We still have something to do on the night of the full moon.”

His words made my heart race.

Mitsuki: “Are you going to make a blood oath?”

I asked nervously, and Drake blinked in surprise.

Drake: “You knew?”

Mitsuki: “Yeah. But are you sure about this? You don’t have to force yourself.”

Drake: “Thanks, Fawn. But there’s no need to worry.”

Drake put his forehead on mine and smiled.

Drake: “I’ll do as I please.”

Drake: “You just have to wait for me to whisk you away.”

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Premium ╎ Epilogue

[astrowaffle]

Wow you guys really seemed to like the steampunk AU, that post got way more attention than I was expecting, so here's some more information and stuff:

-The world is still like a videogame that they got trapped in but now it’s a steampunk adventure-y type game with circus elements 

-The adventures are probably a bit different

-They’re probably more like, fantasy adventure video game style things with like puzzles and fighting? Idk I'm not a big gamer I've never actually played any steampunk video games. What are those like?

-Instead of circus tent, there is a big wagon thingy that I'll draw eventually

-there's still not much of a story and I'm not sure If there'll ever be

-I'd also kinda want to make some mini comics for this au but I suck at coming up with ideas :/

Pomni:  

-She likes to craft things

-friends with Gangle and Ragatha

-still very anxious but less anxious then normal Pomni?

-has a very logical mind and is good at puzzling things together but also doesn’t do well under pressure and typically panics in stressful moments where these skills might be useful

-She can play the flute because flutes are good, they are the best instrument. (I am totally not biased just because I play the flute in marching band)

-My headcanon for regular Pomni is that she’s less anxious than she initially is in the pilot after getting used to things, like, beyond the anxiety, her actual personality is very cheery and friendly, also very logical, because idk it just fits her somehow? So yea, that headcanon also applies to this au 

-but of course she is still an absolute nervous wreck because yes

-How else is she supposed to react in this situation

-also look at those fingerless gloves I want those

-the gears in her eyes turn when she is thinking

Gangle:

-Also likes crafting things

-friends with Pomni, Zooble, and Kinger

-she often borrows  sewing needles from Ragatha to sew her comedy mask back together when it’s torn, and also constantly tries to craft new ones

-She really likes her boots

-I don’t blame her those are some nice boots

-Ok wait a minute what if that little wing bow thingy on her head is actually a pen/quill that she can use to write stuff?

-ooooooh yes I like that

Caine: 

-✨monocle✨

-He can control the time of day with the clock that’s on his hat

-It’s a lot harder for him to heal injuries in this world, he can’t just instantly fix anything anymore it requires a bit more effort

-I’m doing this because I like when injury and pain and suffering

Bubble: um- idk it’s just bubble but now they’re a robot I guess

Kinger:

-ok but what if he had a collection of mechanical insects? Omg designing mechanical insects would be so fun-

-The clock that he wears is broken but he doesn’t notice. And Time is irrelevant anyways

-damn those gloves are fancy

-they probably feel really silky

-and his robe is also very silky because mmm good texture

Zooble:

-They are a robot now

-also a mechanic/inventor because nobody else is and somebody had to learn how to make new robot parts

-their right arm can go s t r e t c h

-bonds with Gangle over their hatred of Jax

-they’re also kinda protective over her

-I lowkey ship them (this ship is so underrated)

-No but seriously why do see zero art of this ship

- Zoob’s in denial about their feelings and still pretends not to care because they’ve had such a “I don’t give a shit about anything” attitude that suddenly developing feelings for someone has caught them off guard cause they suddenly are giving a shit about something and they don’t know how to handle it, But if Jax does anything to Gangle they will rush in to protect her in a heartbeat and just try to play it off as it just being because they don’t like Jax BUT WE ALL KNOW THE TRUTH ZOOBLE JUST CONFESS ALREADY-

-ok that got way too rambly let's just move on now

Jax:

-MY FAVORITE

-he likes shiny things

-He will collect those shiny things

-He also very fast because look at those LANKY RABBIT LEGS

-I mean technically that’s already cannon, did you see how fast he ran away after seeing abstracted kaufmo? He just z o o m e d outta there

-those keys on the chain are only a small portion of his collection

-his room is definitely full of weird steampunk knick knacks because yes

-He uses them to prank people

-the centipedes he has to scare/annoy Ragatha are mechanical

-I’m so excited to design mechanical centipedes I love bugs so much guys you have no idea I finally have an excuse to draw insects and maybe people will actually care because it’s fandom related now

-He does not like getting wet. At all. (this is also just a general headcanon for him but especially in this au)

-floofy

Ragatha:

-the seams of her fabric are prone to tearing so she always carries a needle and thread to sew herself back together. she's good at sewing

-My main headcannon for normal Ragatha is that her button eye is a parallel to an eye injury she had in real life before joining the circus, but in this AU she probably acquired the injury in this universe.

-she’s good at using tools and weapons but not in like, a mechanic sorta way like Zooble but in a defense sorta way

-like, she’s very kind and caring but also sorta tough and even though her body is good at falling apart, she knows how to use strategy to fight and um wait what would they even be fighting-

-idk I haven’t thought about that yet

-Gloinks?????

-do those exist in this au???

-wait it’s my au why am I asking this

-overall she is very, “tries to help everyone else and seems very tough on the outside but is prone to falling apart both physically and mentally but just gets good at quickly patching it up and ignoring it until it become too much for her to bear”

-pls help her she needs therapy

-they all need therapy

-I’m pretty sure we’ve all established that at this point

-but I’m just making sure you know that it’s still a consistent factor in this au

[intosnarkness]

”come over here and make me” kanej

(1 2 or make up your own) (ask)

Sankt Emerens is not someone Inej was really familiar with before she was brought to Kerch.

As part of a traveling circus, living in a wagon, her family hadn't had a lot of need for harvest festivals. They'd usually taken advantage of them to set up a tent and earn coin in one of the smaller Ravkan villages they passed through. But they never stopped at the shrines or left offerings to him. Why would they, when they didn't grow anything?

Her first autumn in the Barrel, Inej was surprised by the revelry on Emeren's feast day - the sheer number of drunk people in the streets, the fireworks, the raucous laughter and the stream of men whose inhibitions were low enough to stumble into the Menagerie and spend their kruge on girls who couldn't say no.

She thought she might hate Sankt Emerens. She had never hated a saint before, but she was willing to bend a little for someone who inspired such chaos.

Which is why, in her second year in Ketterdam, Inej climbs up to the roof of the Slat with a bottle of whiskey and resolves to not think about anything even remotely religious instead of participating in the celebrations. She decides to pretend that it's a normal night, and that no one on the West Stave is being sold in the name of someone who died in a grain silo.

It doesn't go great.

She's only a drink or so into the whiskey, the amber liquid just kissing the top of the label as she lowers it from her lips, when she feels his presence on the roof with her.

"Hello, Kaz," she offers, giving him a little toast with the bottle. It's about time she got to greet him without looking.

"What business?" he asks, which just makes her snort through her nose. He's come to see her. On the roof. During a festival. Why would she be bringing him business? Sometimes Kaz is just the absolute worst.

"Getting drunk," she replies, though she doesn't think she will. She's had enough whiskey. She doesn't even like the stuff, it's just what Kaz had in his stash that she could take. Plus, if she's going to get drunk, she should do it with her feet on the ground. Nothing good has ever come of trying to get shitfaced on a roof.

Probably her father has a saying about that. Something profound, and wise. She misses him in a way that aches.

Kaz comes to sit next to her, close but carefully avoiding any contact between their bodies, and holds his hand out for the bottle. She takes another sip before she hands it to him.

"This is mine," he says, but he wipes the rim of it with his sleeve before taking a swallow. He winces a little, and Inej can't help but smile. He doesn't shoot whiskey well. It's something no one else seems to ever notice. He sips it, drinks it for status instead of enjoyment. She files it away in her mind, a secret she can sell when he's rich and powerful.

"I borrowed it," she replies, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "You weren't around to ask."

"Someone had to arrange for the fireworks," he shrugs. "There's always profit in this city, if you know where to look."

Somehow, Inej thinks her father would disapprove of that as a proverb. But it does sound like the kind of thing you would say while shaking the hand of your pewmate at a Ghezenite service. Good morning, there's profit to be made. Heathens.

"Of course," she shakes her head and reaches for the bottle again.

Kaz doesn't hand it over, instead making a show of taking another deep drink. This time he coughs, and Inej feels vindicated by it. What an asshole he is.

"Why aren't you out there?" he asks, gesturing with his chin towards the revelers below. "You could get drunk on another man's alcohol."

"Other men want payment for free drinks," she says, before she can consider it. It's true, of course. If you let a man buy you a whiskey he asks for your company. And Inej can't be bought anymore. Not like that. With Kaz, there may still be a price for things, but it's a price she knows up front. A price she can say no to, and know that he'll let her.

That seems to put him on his heels, and she uses his moment of distraction to take the bottle back, swallowing deep. She should stop. She should get down. She doesn't want to.

The alcohol is warm in her stomach, and Kaz is warm at her side, despite the barrier of air and clothing that will always keep them apart.

"Give that back," he demands, his brow furrowed. "Go buy your own whiskey, Wraith."

"Why don't you come over here and make me?" she replies, and when their eyes meet in the darkness, she can feel something coming from him that she's never felt before. Something like want or need. It scares her. It scares her to think that she's on a roof, far away from anyone who can help her, with this boy who she trusts. Who has earned her trust. Who lies and cheats and murders and probably doesn't deserve that trust.

He opens his mouth to reply, but she doesn't hear what he says, because something explodes over the harbor.

It's a firework, a shower of gold and red sparks like a small sun that blazes into existence for a moment. It's breathtaking, and she turns to look at Kaz, watching as the next one goes off, the reflection of green and blue in his dark eyes. He's beautiful, and the way he's looking at her makes her think that maybe- maybe- he thinks she's beautiful, too.

Probably not. Probably Kaz Brekker doesn't have feelings about beauty, unless it's something he can get money from. And he promised her she would never have to do that. So what use would her beauty be to him, anyway?

"Here," Inej hands him the bottle and gets to her feet. "I'm done. Good night, Kaz."

"Stay," he says, his voice warm in the chill of the air. Or maybe it's the alcohol. "Just - just until the fireworks are done. They're good fireworks. I would know."

Inej pauses, looking away from him to where a series of three explosions is going off, one after the other, a high whistling sound giving way to the bursts of color. It is pretty. It reminds her a little of the ones her aunt and uncle used to set off at the solstice, meant to scare back the night and show the way for the sun to return to them.

"Okay," Inej breathes, and returns to sitting an inch away from Kaz, their bodies never touching. If it's payment for the whiskey, well. She's willing to pay it. For now.

Neither of them speaks again as the explosions around them start to pick up, colors and sparks dancing down the firmament. She leans back on her palms, the rough shingles of the roof biting into them. Something soft and firm brushes over her fingers, a split second of contact that feels for all the world like leather.

She doesn't react, schooling herself to stillness. If Kaz touched her hand, she knows, it was an accident. It's not something he would do on purpose. Not to her, and not to anyone. So she won't make a big deal of it.

Kaz doesn't say anything either, just takes another gasping drink from the bottle and sits with her as the sky turns to light.

[novankenn]

Coco's Search for a WAIFU or The Purgatory of Jaune

= Nine = (Master Chapter List)

It took Coco a little effort, and some creative sewing with her emergency sewing kit, but finally she had Jaune in a semblance of clothing. Well barely clothing. The skirt was cut completely through one side and held closed only by one of Coco's belts. The t-shirt she had stuffed Jaune into was stretched to tearing, and left her midriff totally exposed.

Jaune: (Bouncing on the balls of her feet) OMG! So totes cute!

Coco wanted to reply, but the bouncing was making Jaune's impressive chest jiggle and wiggle, which was doing things to Coco's mind, making it fall into a deep dark crevasse of perversion. Her mind recoiled back to the here and now when she felt a set of hands grasp her hips, followed by a soft, succulent set of lips pressing against her own.

Coco: What?

Jaune: Thank you for the outfit, sweetie. I like, totes love it. (Jaune then leans in to whisper in Coco's ear) And I can't wait until you're taking it off me.

Coco's mind reeled, her first adult kiss, as the good night kisses she gave loli-Jaune don't count, was with this air-head! Then the comment sunk in, and despite her reputation as a flirt, Coco blushed.

Jaune: You're so cute! (leans in again and whispers into Coco's ear) I just like totes want to eat you up.

The words and Jaune's warm, moist breath made Coco shiver. This was the stuff of her wildest dreams! But deep inside, it felt wrong. This wasn't Jaune as he normally was. This was Jaune airhead-ified, was that even a word? It didn't matter, even though Coco's body was reacting to Jaune's touches and words, Coco fought it.

Coco: May... maybe later?

Jaune: (Pouts) But I'm feeling... needy right now.

Coco: Shopping trip first, then we can see, okay?

Jaune: Okay, I like guess.

Coco: So let's head out to Vale, and we'll get you some cute outfits, okay?

Jaune: Okay.

Coco's heart leapt as Jaune grabbed her hand, and started to pull her towards the door. Her bare feet lightly slapping against the tiled floor.

Coco: Shoes!

Jaune: Huh? (Then looks down) Oh yeah, like that would be totes a good idea. (Looks back at Coco) Can I have heels?

Coco: Of course... but we have to go to my dorm room to...

Jaune: Pyr-Pyr has totes cute heeled boots! I can borrow hers!

Coco: (Panic setting in) Wait!

Jaune either ignores her, or doesn't hear her protests, as she just drags the unwilling fashionista behind her. Coco struggles and quickly realizes that Jaune, even in this form, is intensely strong. Her booted feet slid along the tiled floor as Jaune just hauls her along like a child pulling a toy wagon.

Coco was starting to really panic now, as Jaune inexorably drew her closer and closer to a place where she would definitely find trouble. She wasn't ready to face anything like that, she still had six more vials to test, though she was seriously considering giving up. Ozpin had only warned her about personality changes if she used more than one of the concoctions on Jaune with in a 24-hour period. But these last two tests had proven that statement wrong.

Coco: Jaune I have totes curt heels in my dorm room. We... we don't have to be bothering Nikos... she's... she's a busy girl, you know.

Jaune: Pyr-Pyr is a sweetie-pie, she won't mind... oh buggers.

Coco breathed a slight sigh of relief as Jaune had reached the stairwell. There was no way...

Coco: EEP!

Jaune: Upsies!

Coco: Jaune, put me down!

SLAP!

Coco: Stop slapping my ASS!

Jaune: But it's so... slappable!

SLAP!

Jaune: See!

Coco: Please stop!

Jaune with one hand locking Coco over her shoulder, and the second firmly planted on her ass, started up the stairs without even the slightest hint of issue. Coco, despite her situation and position, was getting impressed with Jaune's physical attributes. After scaling two flights, Jaune spoke again.

Jaune: Almost there.

Coco was counting her lucky stars that no one from team JNPR or RWBY, or Velvet had found them...

Jaune: Pyr-Pyr!

Coco: Shit.

Pyrrha: Jaune! Where have you been?

Nora: Why are you carrying Coco?

Jaune: Coco helped me find an outfit, but we couldn't go to Vale without shoes, so I brought her with me to borrow a pair of your boots.

Pyrrha: Why was she going to take you to... Vale?

Coco: (Shouting) Clothes shopping, honest!

Jaune: I can go, right?

Pyrrha: (Scary motherly tone) We'll see, Jaune okay? But first, Coco and I need to have a little chat.

Jaune: Okay, but can I borrow a pair of your boots? My feet are like totes killing me right now.

Pyrrha: Nora, can you help Jaune get a pair of my boots? I would like to have a word with Coco... in private.

Coco was beyond panicked now, but her wiggling and squirming were achieving nothing, as Jaune's grip upon her waist and posterior was like iron.

Nora: Sure thing, Pyr-Pyr. Come one Jaune-Jaune!

Jaune: Yeah!

Jaune sets Coco down on her feet, but before she could bail, Pyrrha's icy grip latched onto her shoulder.

Pyrrha: Going somewhere? That's rather rude after you promised to take Jaune out... shopping.

Coco: I... um... I...

With the sound of the door to JNPR's being closed, Coco knew her time was up.

Pyrrha: What did you do to Jaune?

[sim-ply-lilacs]

To her great surprise, Bea found that between Josef and herself, she was the far superior negotiator of the two and thus took over the marketing duties. Each week, Josef would hitch up the team and load the wagon with the produce they'd harvested, and Bea would drive to nearby Henford-on-Bagley, and would bargain with the shopkeepers there for the best prices on the literal fruits of their labor.

Bea loved this time. Idyllwind Farm was the dearest place on earth to her, but she found that if she didn't get away from there and socialize every once in a while, she'd grow too withdrawn and cross and become a snappish mess that would cause even Josef and her mother to look at her askance. Besides, she liked the hustle and bustle of the market. From the conversations she'd have with the other women in town, to the rich aromas emanating from the pubs, to the satisfaction of a good haggle, marketing day was Bea's favorite day of the week easily.

Which was why, when something happened to mar it, she wasn't at all prepared for it.

"Another wedge of cheese, if you please, and a length of that green ribbon for Mother's dress, Miss Goldbloom. She's decided to come out of mourning at last, and Mr. Moody and I have decided to do whatever we can to encourage her reintegration to society."

"How lovely," Miss Goldbloom demurred. "Green will go so nicely with Mrs. Fenton's coloring. Is she having the dress made up here in town? Or perhaps over in Brindleton? I ask only because a sister of mine is a seamstress and if it were the same shop I'd be happy to run it over for you free of charge."

Beatrice laughed. "My, doesn't that sound lovely! No, just Mother and me, I'm afraid. We're thrifty creatures by nature and couldn't dream of paying for something we're adequate at ourselves. I've only ever worn one boughten dress in my life, and that was the wedding dress I borrowed from Mrs. Landgraab."

"We're much the same, then!" Miss Goldbloom smiled with unhidden camaraderie. "Much to my sister's chagrin, I've only ever bought from the shop what I can't make myself. It helps to have so many ladies about. My people recently returned from the west where it's much harder to get up a sewing party out there, what with how far apart the homesteads are. You should join us sometime! We meet at a different house every week or so, so the burden of hosting does not fall on any lady unevenly."

Bea grinned at this. "Oh," she said, clasping her hands together, "I'd be thrilled to. Thank you, I do believe I'll take you up on that offer! When do you next meet?"

"In about half an hour," Miss Goldbloom replied, and Beatrice noticed all at once that Miss Goldbloom had been slowly packing the contents of her stand away as they spoke. Miss Goldbloom pulled a sewing basket that carried with it the cloyingly sweet aroma of whatever potpourri she used to keep her basket from smelling stale out from a little cubby in the stand. The scent itched Bea's nose. Her stomach lurched in protest. As Miss Goldbloom, pulled on a hat and shawl, the shopkeep spoke again, "I'm 'bout to head that way myself, if you'd like to walk over together?"

Beatrice opened her mouth to answer to the affirmative, but to her horror, found that her breakfast threatened to rise up with her answer. She swallowed. "I...thank you, Miss Goldbloom, but I'm afraid I don't have any of my mending with me. Next week?" Bea offered weakly.

If she noticed Beatrice's discomfort, Miss Goldbloom did not outwardly show it. "Of course!" she chirped, "I'll be seeing ya, Mrs. Moody!"

Beatrice offered a pale flutter of a smile, waited for her new friend's back to turn, and promptly ran with a speed unbecoming the matron of Idyllwind Farm to the water closet of the nearby pub. She proceeded to vomit up everything she'd ever eaten.

The new, electric lit, flush toilet water closets at the Galloping Mare Pub were the pride of the establishment. Second only to the town hall in running Mr. Edison's new incandescent lamps as a public building, and first to boast running water, they drew just as many patrons as the bar—often leading to an increase in customers for both. The staff were under strict orders to polish and scrub the rooms to perfection every evening. It was no good if the crown jewel of the establishment left visitors unimpressed, the proprietor insisted. The manager didn't see the point. Half the barflies went in the street, anyway.

Still, knowing this, Bea felt horribly guilty. It wasn't bad enough that she was so violently ill, but to add to the troubles of the kind waitstaff that always slid an extra Yorkshire pudding onto her plate had her working herself into an anxious mess.

By the time she exited the water closet, she was thoroughly convinced that not only were the staff of the pub going to hate her as long as she lived, but that she was soon to shuffle off the mortal coil as well. Why else would she be so sick with no other symptoms? With her emotions flying every which way? Either she was the victim of some horrible disease, soon to be snatched away from her beloved husband and their life together, or she was going as mad as Mr. Rochester's wife in the attic. Oh, she'd known she shouldn't have gotten so used to happiness. Of course it was so soon broken. Wasn't it always?

Beatrice forced herself into a semblance of composure. If she was losing her health, then she must be strong. For Mama and Josef, at the least. After all, if her fears were true, they were the ones who would truly suffer the consequences. For, while her body would lie in the churchyard of the wee rocky church where she'd been married, her soul would be in heaven with God, and with Papa. They would be the ones to truly suffer.

And they would suffer, wouldn't they? Mama would go back into her mourning and never come out, probably dying of grief, and Josef would be devastated. He didn't have many left who loved him. Probably, he would return to Prussia. He'd move back to his brother's farm, Idyllwind would fall to seed, marry some Prussian girl, and she'd give him the family Beatrice and Josef had so often dreamt of. She must be strong then, to spare them whatever pain she could. There could not be much joy left otherwise, could there?

All at once, a shock ran through Beatrice. Working out some quick math in her head, she gasped. Unless...unless perhaps, she was not sick at all. Unless her dearest dream had come true. Unless...

Prev ~ Next ~ Beginning

Lovelies, I'm back! Power and wi-fi outages have been sorted through, personal crises have ended, and the future is looking bright for our dear Moodys! Look for the tour of Idyllwind Farm just after this.

[eowyn7023]

Stolen

Summary:

Galadriel steals jewelry from Gil-Galad, and refashions it by hand to make something that she hopes that her lover Adar will like as a present. This Adar is played by Joseph Mawle (S1), as can be deduced from eye color.

Notes:

The world building in this Adariel chapter is borrowed from the very beginning of the story "Us" by GulValCardi_F75, before all the drama happens.

Chapter Text

Galadriel had just shown up from Lindon, to visit Adar and his peaceful Uruks in Mordor. Her visit was part of the peace treaty between Elves and Uruk that the two of them had brokered, right before the dramatic hilltop battle where they had killed Sauron together. Morgoth’s crown plus Nenya had destroyed Sauron for good. Now she came quarterly, as Gil-Galad’s ambassador, nominally to inspect Mordor to be sure the terms of the peace treaty were being upheld.

Adar maintained a formal distance from Galadriel as they watched Elves and Uruks unload the wagons. Gil-Galad had sent supplies to the young nation of Mordor, to tide them over until agriculture could be established. He kept his relationship with Galadriel secret from the Elves. Of course, every Uruk that had ever been near the couple knew of it; they could smell Galadriel on him and him on Galadriel. Galadriel had no idea.

Adar raised an eyebrow at Galadriel as he said,

“Is that a crate of soap that I see there?”

Galadriel dimpled.

“Why, yes! The Uruk houses are always tidy, but I thought they would be easier to keep that way with soap. Don’t worry — your private bath soap is with my things, along with your bubble bath and your hair conditioner. Your Uruks need never know of your civilized habits.”

Adar’s eyes laughed at her. She had never quite grasped how sensitive the Uruk sense of smell was. Uruks rolled their eyes at him or smirked every time he indulged in a scented bath. As he had this morning, before her arrival.

Later, their private reunion was everything that Adar had hoped for: romantic and sexy. Afterwards, Galadriel retrieved a small box from her belongings.

“I brought you a present,”

she confessed. She handed him the box. He opened it, to see a pair of jade earrings inside. His heart sank. He never wore jewelry. How could he politely tell her this?

She said,

“Now I know you are about to tell me that you never wear jewelry. Do you think that I have never noticed this? But even your Uruk wear jewelry in these days of peace. Perhaps you have not noticed, but some have stopped wearing necklaces of bones or teeth in favor of necklaces of shells, or beads, or polished stones. Like the turquoise pendant that Glûg’s wife loves so much. That is all jade is, a polished stone.”

Adar nodded, reluctantly.

“But what is better — I stole the jade from Gil-Galad!”

Adar laughed. That did improve his opinion, to know that they were stolen from the Elven king.

“He has an entire jade necklace that he never wears — it was a gift from Oropher, who doesn’t have the same obsession with gold as Gil-Galad. And — look! They are carved into the shape of leaves! You can see the veins in the leaves. A little reminder of the forests you love so much, here in treeless Mordor. I just took two leaves from the many in his necklace. Furthermore — I made the findings for the earrings. I used steel instead of gold or silver, because I knew you would never wear precious metal.”

“What do you mean, you made new findings?”

“Findings are the mechanical part of an earring, the hardware that attaches the pretty part to your ear. I made a post earring finding, that is, a post that goes through one’s pierced ear. The leaf hangs from that. I thought they would tangle less in your hair that way.”

“No, I mean — you made them?”

“I apprenticed as a jewel smith under the Vala Aulë, the same as my brothers, in Valinor. I am not very talented, like my cousin Celebrimbor was, but I can certainly make findings for earrings.”

“So these earrings are hand-made by you, with materials stolen from the High King?”

“Yes. Hand-made with love. I took these particular leaves because the jade is the same pale green as your eyes. ”

“Then I love your gift, and I will wear them. Once my ears are pierced.”

“That is easy to fix! I have a steel needle in my pack.”

Adar quipped,

“At last, your ambition to poke holes in me will be realized.”

Now all Adar had to do was to convince Galadriel to let him swipe the earrings between her legs, so that they would smell like her too.

[audio-luddite]

Old CDs

Specifically TELARC from the 1980s. Back when CDs were the future I climbed on that wagon. Telarc bragged about their all digital process which I think used the Soundstream system. They made very good recordings. Several sources claim that they were 16 bit 50 kHz. Why would you ever need more!? Oh and now it must be converted to a slower sampling rate for CDs. Oh dear! The math, the math!

I have a handful of Telarc CDs. My Carmina Burana is a Telarc. I have some others with Eric Kunzel with the Cincinnati Symphony. One I mentioned before was the Grand Canyon Suite with digital thunder. They went into that stuff like real canons in the 1812 Overture.

Anyway I am a bit puzzled as I know I have heard the Telarc 1812 as I clearly recall the other tracks on it Capriccio Italien, and Mazepa. I do not have it anywhere I can find. I also remember a disk called "Ein Straussfest" which had a track with gun shots. Being Telarc they used real guns. Again not in my stash.

It may be that I borrowed them from, or lent them to a friend I just don't recall. My wife uses some CDs as weights to hold down papers when she is cutting out patterns for sewing. I should check there too.

Here comes the rabbit hole.

Of course I went to see if there were any of these out in the "verse". Of course there are. Discogs has lots. I found out that people have painstakingly documented every issue and pressing of most of the Telarc CDs. HUH?! Apparently there are worse and better pressings of polycarbonate just like for vinyl. Some were done in Japan by JVC or Matsushita or several others. Some were done in Europe by Polydor. Oh and some issues were clipped or poorly mastered. They did that with CDs? It should just be a FN digital file.

So rather than just slag them as CDs and stop there they curate the better and worse ones. This is a tribe I never knew existed. So now aside from just buying a clean disc you need to see if it is off a good batch. Life is so complicated!

Hey I just want the music. I love vinyl, but I like most of my CDs. Some of those are my favorites for a given recording. Many are my only recording of a piece. My Mercury Living Presence CDs are excellent as are some Telarcs.

And you know what, since CDs are obsolete they let me keep my Luddite spirit intact.

[constructionaccounting]

551: Recognizing The Value Of Construction Contractors In Our Daily Lives

This Podcast Is Episode 551, And It's About Recognizing The Value Of Construction Contractors In Our Daily Lives

I was taking a moment to reflect on the challenges for the Pilgrims coming to America. They decided to make the journey with no guarantee of success. To build homes, plant crops, and take care of animals. Then, later, everyone chose to move West by wagon train, horse, or on foot. I am grateful for them! I think about my Grandparents and my Great Grandparents. What was life like when they were children? Where did they come from, and how did they get to where they were?

The family's oral history seems so inadequate. My father shared so much, but now it looks like so little. Be glad for the simple things we take for granted:

Going to the grocery store, deli, or restaurant for dinner

Living indoors with electricity and indoor plumbing

Driving a car

Crossing the water on a bridge or ferry

Modern times. I am all for living in the city with the gas station and grocery store just down the street. I appreciate reliable electricity, and tree contractors trim powerlines year-round to help prevent outages. I am grateful for the linemen who repair power lines during a storm so we have electricity.    

Please note: The offer does not apply to Outsourced Accounting, Bookkeeping Review, or any Consultation and Training products; you can, however, use it to purchase any course or monthly subscription classes in Construction Accounting Academy

  Thank You, Contractors, for going to work so the rest of us can stay home safe.   

Thank you to the road crews, police, firemen, linemen, tree crews, plumbers, and electricians who work when the news says "Stay Home" and to all the other contractors and emergency services I have not mentioned.

Contractors Make Our Lives Better

Contractors build and maintain the things that make our lives better. They built the factories where the factory workers work. The rancher and farmer, whom you don't think about as contractors, construct and repair buildings and fences and maintain equipment. They learn to be jacks of all trades, raise crops and animals, and battle the elements. Heat, wind, rain, snow, forest fires, or grass fires – they see it first—the more remote their location, the more diverse their skills.   

Why did you decide to become a Construction Contractor?

Fast money, easy work, few hours, or all those reasons? Yes, contractors can make much money in this industry. Fast, however, is a relative term.

Definition of Fast Money

Collecting a job deposit is designed to lock down the job and buy materials. While using your client's money to start the project is always a good idea, that doesn't mean you have money to party heartily, buy a bunch of tools, or buy that brand-new truck you want. 

The money will fly out of the checkbooks with everyday business expenses without extra help. 

If you spend your job deposits in this manner, you get into a cycle of "Borrow from Peter to pay Paul." (author unknown) This was a favorite phrase of the '60s and '70s. What do I mean? Using the deposit from the next job to pay for expenses from the last job is a slippery slope to financial disaster. Another common phrase is "Leverage Is Great Until The Stick Breaks." 

It's like a child's game of musical chairs. When the music stops, someone is without a chair. The same thing happens when the economy turns, as in 2008. Contractors thought (and hoped) the recession would be a slight dip and everything would return to normal by the summer of 2009. That is not what happened for most construction contractors. 

Some construction contractors had lots of work in the pipeline unaffected by the recession.

Many were overconfident and thought other contractors had a hard time because they "just didn't know how to run a business." Unfortunately, those same contractors were badly hurt when their pipeline of jobs ran out.

Definition of Easy Work

Easy work is any job that you know how to do quickly. Preparing Thanksgiving dinner for twenty or more is a simple task for a chef. However, it might be impossible for a college student living in a dorm or shared apartment.

Definition of a Few Hours

Yes, construction contractors can work a few hours every day. Usually, they work twelve hours or more every day of the week. It is only a few hours to:

Take the call

Schedule the appointment

Meet the client

Create the bid

Present the bid

Collect the deposit

Schedule the work

Make a material list

Pick up the materials

Coordinate any employees

Go to the homeowner's house or job site

As you begin the job:

Think, plan, and do the work.

Watch out for children and pets.

Answer the homeowner's questions.

Be polite and make small talk as needed.

Keep working at a pace that compensates for any time spent watching out for children and pets or chatting with the homeowner. The homeowner expects work to be completed on time or ahead of schedule, no matter how many interruptions you or your employees have. 

End of the day – Clean up the job site so it is ready for use this evening or clean and ready for work tomorrow. Pick up all your tools and materials (mobilize and demobilize)

Meet with the homeowner to discuss the rest of the project.

Assure them all is going well. Make notes of possible change orders or add-ons. Do not forget to price out change orders. Homeowners remember that unless you agree to a price reduction in writing, you are not obligated to reduce the price.

The increase in scope is never forgotten. You Promised To Do [fill in the blank]. If you think any changes are omitted, wait; you will hear a grownup impersonating a preschooler wanting a cookie. Water on the stone is an understatement.  

Like most Construction Contractors, you feel like you are waving the money as it goes by. Rest assured, it is true in Washington State, where contractors collect and pay sales taxes. The tax money is just moving through the checking account. Borrowing State and Federal tax money is very bad. 

The same applies to payroll taxes, except the company must make a company match for Social Security and Medicare, pay state unemployment insurance and state worker’s compensation, and obtain a contractor’s license, contractor’s liability insurance, bond, and other specialty licenses.

The business of being in business as a construction contractor involves:

Keeping track of a lot of paperwork

Filling out and filing government forms

Paying taxes 

Financials are essential for filing annual federal taxes, whether you are a sole proprietor, LLC, or S-corp. The individual reports are for the benefit of the construction contractor.

Are you making money?

Which job? – Did you like that particular type of job?

Do you go into any job knowing it will barely break even? 

Are you passing out business cards or flyers to the neighbors of your current or past jobs?

Are you driving long distances between jobs?

Final thoughts

You couldn’t change yesterday; you could only review it and think about what you could do today. And how can you have a better tomorrow? Tiny changes can make a big difference. Sometimes, taking a pause is the right decision to make.

Money makes the world go round. It is hard to buy gas or groceries with hope and a promise. It is not unreasonable to expect to be paid for your work. Contractors like you bring value to everyone's life you touched. I am rooting for your success and wish you and yours the best in everything that comes your way.

PS 

We offer free resources to help you save time and money that you can download and print now. 

About The Author:

Sharie DeHart, QPA, co-founded Business Consulting And Accounting in Lynnwood, Washington. She is the leading expert in managing outsourced construction bookkeeping and accounting services companies and cash management accounting for small construction companies across the USA. She encourages Contractors and Construction Company Owners to stay current on their tax obligations and offers insights on managing the remaining cash flow to operate and grow their construction company sales and profits so they can put more money in the bank. Call 1-800-361-1770 or sharie@fasteasyaccounting.com

  Check out this episode about Contractors Marketing - Accounting - Production (M.A.P.)!

[runningfrom2am]

the sea around us - chapter twelve

In which Rafe Cameron has to choose between his dad and a pogue who's changing his outlook on life more and more every day.

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

(eventual!jj maybank x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, older brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 2.5k

my masterlist

series masterlist

requests

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

It takes a few days, but we get the information we need about where the Royal Merchant is, and we figure out a way to get to it, with a submersible we borrowed from a lot where JJ's dad used to work. We just have to wait for the right weather to take it out.

I work a morning shift at Making Waves, then head out with Pope and JJ to do some deliveries for Heyward. We climb off the boat and go our separate ways, JJ staying on the boat to watch the rest of the deliveries and make sure nothing gets stolen while we walk down the beach, and up into the treeline where the businesses and people we're delivering to are. I decided to take a little wagon with me, to pull a couple of boxes instead of carrying them and taking multiple trips.

I get back after about forty-five minutes, seeing JJ and Pope sitting on the boat. "Hey, guys- hope I didn't keep you waiting!" I say, shielding my eyes from the sun as I walk down the dock. "Woah- wait, Pope, what happened?" I ask, dropping the handle on the wagon and climbing on the boat, walking up to him to get a closer look at his face. He's been beaten- badly.

"Your brother and his friends jumped him. Topper, Kegs, and your kook boyfriend Rafe fucking jumped him, Snowy." JJ says, clearly angry as he's pacing the boat.

"Holy shit, Pope..." I sigh, sitting in front of him. "Let me see.." I say, slowly moving his hand with a cloth away from his nose so I can get a better look at the damage. "I'm not a doctor, but I don't think anything is broken.." I say, he winces as I touch his cheek.

"Yeah, thanks." He replies bluntly. "Let's just drop it, okay? I'll be fine. We've got more shit to do." He adds, turning his face from me and standing up, going to start the boat. I get up and grab my wagon, pulling it on board and sitting down, waiting for us to leave.

"I'm so sorry, Pope.." I say. Truly, I feel horrible. Why on earth would my brother and his friends do something like this? Why would Rafe?

"You didn't do anything," Pope responds.

"Yeah, yeah. Nothing. Besides fuck a kook who slums with your brother. Real classy crowd you hang out with, Snowy." JJ says. He's clearly more upset than Pope.

"I didn't know they would do this... I don't know why they would. You've never done anything to them." I say, trying to understand myself. "I'm gonna call Rafe- he can answer to me."

I pull out my phone and JJ shakes his head. "Yeah, sure. Call the guy who just jumped your best friend. Good plan."

"Rafe didn't do anything..." Pope says, "He didn't stop them, but he didn't hurt me either."

"Yeah that's almost worse, Pope, but thank you," JJ responds and I decide just to text Rafe instead.

S: hi rafe

R: hi snowy, whats up

S: oh, you know, just doing some deliveries for heyward by the golf course.

R: shit

R: if you saw anything you shouldn't have, i'm sorry.

S: oh, you're only sorry if i saw you guys beat the shit out of my best friend? not that you did it?

R: i didn't mean it like that

R: shit

R: Snowy i am sorry, i knew i couldn't have stopped them.

S: pope said you didn't even try

R: listen. i am sorry, okay? it won't happen again. i promise. we're just all a little high and topper was mad that he saw a pogue near the course. energies just bounce off each other- you know kegs too he can't back away from a fight

S: that wasn't a "fight", that was an assault.

S: and i don't know what kind of weed you guys are smoking, but i have never wanted to hit anyone with a golf club when i'm stoned. personally.

R: i know, i'm sorry

S: whatever, rafe.

R: can i call you later so we can talk?

I sigh and shut my phone off, shoving it in my pocket. I knew everything was too good to be true. Now I just have to push any feelings I thought I had for Rafe back down and forget about him.

"Break up with your boyfriend?" JJ asks.

"He's not my boyfriend, JJ. I don't want to talk about it."

"What, so we're just gonna drop it?" He asks and I nod, but he and Pope share a look.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

"I'm so glad they're still doing this," Kie says to me as me, her, Pope, and JJ make our way down to the sitting area in front of a giant screen to watch the yearly film in the park. It's nice to take a break from everything. I nod at Kie and smile. We find a good spot right in the front and set down our stuff. "Aren't you guys glad I made you come?"

"Kie, you did not make us. You didn't make me, anyways. I wouldn't miss it." I smile.

"Oh yeah, ecstatic," Pope says and I gently kick him in the leg as Kie and I get up, going to get something to drink since the boys only brought beers. We aren't the biggest fans.

Right as Kie orders, we hear a familiar voice calling out to us. "Hey, Snowy, Kie." Fuck, it's Rafe, wearing a stupid yellow shirt and stupid red shorts that admittedly look so good on him. He looks so good. I sigh and push my hair back, also pushing back any thought about how much I truly like him. Kie looks over at me, confused. Pope, JJ and I decided not to tell her anything, considering she would likely take it out on me.

"Hey, what's up?" Rafe says as he walks up to us, a hesitant smile on his face.

"I'll, uh.. leave you two alone," Kie says, grabbing our drinks and walking off.

"Wait- Kie!" I call after her, but it's too late.

"Rafe," I say, looking up into his eyes and crossing my arms. He's smirking at me, and I'm finding it hard not to absolutely melt.

"Yeah, nice to see you too." He says sarcastically.  "Can we talk somewhere private?"

"No, Rafe. I don't want to talk to you right now." I say, standing my ground. His gaze on me hardens and he sighs, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair before turning around. He paces a couple of steps away and then back to me, just as I try to make my escape.

"Okay, come on." He says, picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. God damn it- he knows I'm difficult, but also that I am not the type to make a scene over what looks like a domestic dispute.

"Put me down right now!" I say as he carries me behind the building and just past the treeline, away from everyone gathering to watch the film.

"No, no. I need you to listen to me." He said as he puts me down, grabbing a hold of my wrists.

"Please, enlighten me, why you would do that to my best friend. You know how much I care about them! I get that you don't like them but fuck, Rafe. He didn't do anything." I say angrily, trying to pull my hands away.

"Snowy, look at me." He says seriously, and I instantly stop. "I didn't want you to ever have to find out about this, and I know it's no excuse, but.." he trails off and sighs. "It wasn't weed. It was coke. Kegs was totally coked out, and so was I, and Topper, I just didn't think-"

I cut him off. "You guys do coke? Kegs, does coke?"

"Hey- lower your voice, okay? Listen." He says again, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

"I didn't want to tell you this because I'm trying to stop- I swear I'm trying to get my shit sorted out and it's just so embarrassing but you made me feel so normal again and I need that. I need you." He's staring at me so intensely, I can tell he's scanning my eyes to try and understand how I'm feeling before I say it. "With you, I feel normal, Juliette. Please. I'm sorry."

"Rafe, you're killing me." I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. "I am sorry you are going through that. I truly am. But you can't hurt people like that." I say calmly, looking back up at him.

"Give me another chance, please."

"Why should I? Believe it or not, 'because I have a coke problem' isn't the most enticing reason." I say. I feel angry, but my words come out with a slight laugh- as if to comfort him through my own harsh words. It's hard to deny I want to give him this second chance as much as he wants it, maybe more.

"No, I know... I just, I'm so sorry. I'm really sorry, Snowy. You have to believe me." He pleads, desperation evident in his voice. I feel my heart beating in my chest, I already know I have to forgive him. "I wasn't like, myself, and I just didn't think but I promise I will be better. I'd never want to hurt you, and if that means your friends are included in that I will work on it. I just seriously haven't been this happy in so long, when I get to be with you I'm so happy."

"Don't hurt my friends ever again. And I will give you another chance." I tell him, brushing past his following comment. That's too much to unpack for me right now. I want to help him, so if I can help him and help my brother I will.

"Yeah, so, about that- yeah. Uhm, Snowy, listen-" He stammered.

"What? What did you do?"

"Nothing! I didn't do anything," He raises his hands defensively, letting me go now. "I'm just saying like- you know... We know what your boy Pope did. Okay? And Kegs and Topper are not planning to let it slide."

I pause for a moment and look at him confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It's just best that you get your friends and leave, okay?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Rafe. What did he do?"

"Listen, Snowy, I'm trying to protect you here, okay? Just do me a favor and get out of here."

I nod a little, still uncertain. "I'll see what I can do, but I'm not leaving without them."

He nods and wipes the sweat from his face with his hand. We start to walk back to the crowd that's now forming as the sun sets. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Thank you for hearing me out- Snow. You won't regret it." Rafe says, grabbing my arm just above the wrist and stepping close, to plant a kiss on my forehead before walking off to where I now see Kegs and Topper standing, staring at me once they see Rafe coming back.

I glare at them as I walk back over to my friends, sitting down between Kie and JJ on the ground.

"Hey, Snowy, how was it?" JJ asks, taking his hat off and putting it on his lap. "Uh, you know, getting fucked in the woods by the guy who beat the shit out of your best friend."

"What the fuck?" Kie asks, shocked as she looks between the three of us. "What happened?"

Kie's question goes unanswered. "I didn't fuck him, JJ," I say, looking over at him and then over to Pope and between the two of them. "Let me ask you guys this though- what the fuck did you do?" I ask, looking at them angrily.

"I don't know what you're talking about." They both said, shaking their heads and looking up at the blank screen.

"Oh god," Kie says. "I know that look."

"Rafe told me that they know what you did, and they plan on 'dealing' with it tonight, now that they've seen us here. So tell us what you did and we can try and get you out of repeating Pope's fate." I say, using finger quotations to emphasize 'dealing'. "I asked Rafe to stop them and he said there's no way. So you need to tell me what you did, and we need to leave. Like right now." I say as the screen lights up since it's almost dark enough.

"Shit," I mumble, knowing we can't leave during the movie. They'll find us alone.

"Uh, yeah, so we may have sunk Toppers boat," JJ whispers and I gasp.

"Are you guys kidding right now?" I whisper angrily, looking between the two of them.

"Guys, seriously? That makes us no better than them." Kie whispers. I sigh and shake my head, I guess we're gonna have to fight our way out.

An hour or so later, we're watching the movie when Pope leans over to JJ and whispers to him. "Dude, just hold it," JJ responds.

"Pope, seriously, you can hold a piss for forty-five more minutes until it's safe to leave," Kie whispers.

"No, guys, I seriously can't I have to go."

JJ and I look around, seeing Rafe, Kegs, and Topper standing near the bathrooms. Of course.

"Shit.." JJ says, just as I'm thinking the same thing. They get up and go together, heads down hoping they don't get seen.

They go back behind the screen instead, hoping to avoid the bathroom situation. Kie and I watch, then look at each other, as we see Topper, Kegs, and Rafe follow behind them. "Should we..?"

"Yep," I respond as we nod at each other and follow after them, grabbing our bags. As soon as we get behind the screen, we see Topper beating down on Pope, and Kegs about to swing at JJ. Again.

"No! Kegs, don't!" I shout, dropping my bag and making a run for them. Right before I reach my brother and friend, I'm intercepted by Rafe, blocking me, and immediately wraps his arms around me and lifting me up slightly to stop me.

"Rafe, no! Let me go!" I watch as Kie jumps on Topper, trying to get him off of Pope. I struggle in Rafe's strong grip.

"No. Stop, Snowy. Stop." Rafe says to me, his voice low as he holds me back, walking us away.

"Rafe, please.." I cry, hot tears streaming down my cheeks now. "Please, let me help them. Let me make them stop." He stops walking and holds me tight. Somehow, it turned into a hug as I'm crying in his arms, and he was trying to cover my face so I don't watch. He looks down at me, and then back at the boys fighting behind him, as he sees Kie struggling to get Topper off still.

He sighs, and I feel his shoulders and back tense.

"Stay here. Don't move." He says seriously, pulling away and grabbing my cheeks. "Stay. Here."

I watch as he lets me go, heading back over to Kegs and pulling him off of JJ by the back of his shirt. "Dude, let's just go, your sister is pissed, man. We got the point across. They won't mess with us again, bro." He says as Kegs looks up at me, seeing me standing there shaking and in tears, so he drops JJ's shirt, causing him to stumble back and fall. Before Rafe can grab Topper, Kie is setting the screen on fire, forcing them to bail.

"Shit, guys, let's go!" Topper says, getting off of Pope and taking off. Kegs and Rafe look at me for a moment before following.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

A/N;

Hey again, I loved writing this one. I promised it would get better :) We're getting there, lol.

Anyway should I make a taglist?? lmk if you would want to added to mine!

-R

[innytoes]

ohh how about 9. I work at the pumpkin patch and that is an alarming amount of gourds you got there, buddy, with willie collecting the gourds? also, happy decorative gourd season!!

Reggie loves his job at the pumpkin patch. The pay is decent, it's more fun than stocking shelves at the supermarket, and he loves seeing all the excited kids run around trying to find The Perfect Pumpkin. Also, he gets to take home some of the leftover cider donuts they sell at the little stall next to his sometimes.

Also, today he made a baby stop crying by juggling tiny gourds, so he felt kind of like a superhero.

It's not all families, of course. Their clientele also consists of hipsters, goths, cute couples on romantic pumpkin picking dates, people really really into fall, and Instagram Lifestyle Influencers. Thank god he gets to call Bobby when those come around. Bobby likes either flirting with them, or being nasty about their follower count and their 'lazy-ass diy projects', depending on whether or not they're trying to scam them out of free gourds or not.

Their boss actually gave them both cider donuts and a whole pumpkin pie, the day Bobby made an Influencer cry and vow never to return. Apparently she'd been terrorising the pumpkin patch for years.

The guy coming up to their table now, well, he was pretty enough to be an Influencer. Like, really, really pretty. His long hair was in a messy bun, and he was wearing a crop top with pumpkins all over it under a pair of paint-stained overalls.

Reggie really, really hoped he wasn't trying to scam them out of free pumpkins. Because he had a lot. Like, he'd taken one of the little wagons they usually gave to the kids and had a virtual pyramid of pumpkins on it. Big ones, small ones, weirdly shaped ones that people usually left in the field. Then, Reggie realised he’d somehow hitched a second wagon onto the first one, with another pile of gourds.

"That's uh... that's an alarming amount of gourds you have there, buddy," Reggie said, kicking himself. That was neither the suave pick-up line he'd wanted to say, or a customer-friendly meaningless pleasantry.

"I know, right?" The guy said, delighted. "I think I'm gonna need to borrow your wagon to get them all to the car, sorry."

"That's alright, I can help carry them if you want," Reggie said.

"Really? That'd be awesome!" Gourd Guy beamed. "I um, I kind of lost count out there, so I have no idea what my total is gonna be. But my budget is five hundred bucks so... I think we should be good."

"You have a budget of five hundred dollars for pumpkins?" Reggie asked incredulously. God, he really couldn't control his mouth around this guy.

"I mean, my boss gave me five hundred dollars to pick out new Halloween decoration for the Club," he said. "And he told me to make it classy. 'None of that plastic stuff, William.'" He made a severe face, lowering his voice as he pretended to be his boss.

"I mean, gourds are super classy," Reggie agreed, even though he had no idea what counted as classy. If he was given 500 bucks for Halloween decoration, he probably would have blown it on that 12 foot skeleton he'd seen online.

"I'm gonna get some black and purple and gold spray paint as well. Maybe use some paint pens and make some of them extra fancy." William wriggled with excitement at the idea.

"That sounds so cool," Reggie said, as he started to line up gourds and count them. "Are you an artist?" The paint-splattered overalls made it seem that way. He bet William was really pretty when he was all in the zone.

"Myeah, mostly grafitti stuff, though. You can check me out on Insta, I'm under willie.ortega.art." Bobby, who had perked up at the mention of Instagram, wandered over. Reggie wanted to glare at him. For once, he wanted to flirt with the cute Instagram-haver.

“Oh dude, you’re actually pretty good,” Bobby said, holding his phone so Reggie could see. Willie wasn’t just pretty good. He was amazing. His page showed big sweeping murals, as well as a surprising number of custom skateboard decks. Also some little street art scenes in surprising places.

“Hey, I know that one! It’s right near my favourite dog park!” Reggie beamed. “It makes me laugh every time.”

Willie beamed proudly, a pleased smile staying on his face as he gazed at Reggie with soft, pretty eyes.

“Of course your follower count-” Bobby started, before Reggie quickly turned around and shoved a hand over his mouth.

“Back off, he’s cute and he’s paying and he’s mine,” he hissed. He didn’t want to see Bobby try to make Willie cry. Bobby looked from Willie to Reggie and back with doubtful, squinting eyes, before Willie took out his wallet awkwardly. Then he shrugged, bit Reggie’s hand for good measure, and wandered off.

Reggie turned back, embarrassed. “Sorry about him, we’ve been having some problems with people trying to get free stuff and...” He looked up to see him watching him, a flirty smile on his face.

“Oh sure, influencers. They try to get VIP treatment at the club as well,” Willie said. “I was more interested in the other parts of that sentence. The part where you said I’m cute.”

Oh. Oh no. He’d heard that?

“And yours.”

“Uuuuum!” Reggie spluttered, but Willie just grinned at him, helping unload his many pumpkins onto the table. Their fingers brushed probably more than necessary, and the way the guy kept smirking at Reggie’s blush, he was pretty sure it was on purpose.

The pumpkin counting seemed to go on forever, not that Reggie was in a rush. In the end, Willie’s total came to 210 dollars worth of gourds, which wasn’t shabby. They were definitely getting leftover cider donuts tonight.

And, if Reggie was lucky, maybe a phone number as well.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 116: Silver

The problem was that the entire house was grey.

Not metaphorically speaking, of course. No, Harry was actually a little in love with the house itself. It was a cozy little two bedroom home with a nice big kitchen that had an island in the center and a breakfast nook in the corner by the window. And the bathroom had a giant bathtub for soaking and relaxing. The living room had bookshelves built into the walls and a cozy fireplace that Harry couldn't wait to use in the fall and winter.

Metaphorically speaking, the house was sunshine-yellow. Harry adored it.

But every wall in the house was literally grey. His realtor had assured him that grey walls were very fashionable and that he'd grow to like them in time if he just gave them a chance.

So he'd given them a chance. He waited to fall in love with the walls for three whole days before he decided that he simply couldn't take it anymore.

He went to the little muggle hardware store down the street and bought seven gallons of paint; sea foam for the bathroom, coral for the kitchen and breakfast nook, cerulean for his bed room, emerald for the guest bedroom, raspberry for the living room, crisp white for the entry way and all of the doorways, and crimson for the front door. Harry bought paintbrushes, rollers, drop cloths, painters tape, and even a fancy tool to get the corners.

Thankfully, the shop owner let him borrow a little wagon to take everything back on and in no time Harry had the tape up to protect ceilings and doorways, he had drop cloths covering the hard wood floors, and he was ready to start.

He didn't know how long he was at it, but he'd finished the front door, the entry way, and the kitchen when a familiar voice was calling out to him from the open front door. "Potter?"

"Draco," he said in surprise, making his way through the stacks of covered furniture to find his bemused looking auror partner standing on the front steps with a bottle of wine and a house plant. "Hi," he said.

"Hello," the other man replied. "Is it a muggle custom to simply leave one's door open?"

(Read more below the cut)

"No," Harry said with a laugh, "My paint is just drying."

"Have I come at a bad time?" Draco asked, brow furrowing slightly. "I should have sent a patronus ahead of me to check, I'm sorr-"

"It's fine," Harry assured quickly, "I told you to come by any time. Come in. Please."

"Are you certain?" he asked.

He nodded, "Come on. Just don't touch the walls."

Draco followed him inside and held out the wine and the plant, "These are for you," he offered, "house warming presents."

"Thank you," Harry said, genuinely touched. "Really, you didn't have to-"

"I wanted to."

"Thank you," he said again.

After a moment of simply staring at one another, an activity that was becoming increasingly, worryingly common for the two of them, Draco said, "So! Show me your house." He grinned, silver eyes twinkling with mischief, "Give me the grand tour."

Harry laughed, "Well, you'll have to forgive the mess," he said as he headed toward the kitchen, "I'm painting."

"I can see that," he teased. "What was wrong with the color the walls were when you moved in?"

He made a face as he tucked the wine into the refrigerator, "They were all grey!" he said. "Every. single. wall. Grey!"

Draco laughed, "Alright, tell me about your vision for each room."

Happily, Harry complied; taking Draco around the house room by room and telling him about the color palette for each space, the new furniture and decorations he was thinking about buying to complete each room.

By the time they made it back to the living room, Draco was chuckling under his breath.

"What?" he asked, "What are you laughing at?"

"Just you," he said with a little shake of his head. "This is so like you."

"How so?"

With a wistful little smile, Draco looked around the room like he could already see what Harry was going to do. "There's just so much life here, you know? You just," he shrugged a little helplessly, "Everywhere you go, you make things come to life."

He blinked at him and opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out. He swallowed back what felt suspiciously like tears and then managed, "That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

A flush flared across Draco's cheeks and Harry admirably resisted the urge to trail his nose over the blush. "Don't let it go to your head," the other man said with a huff.

Harry laughed, "Do you want to stay?"

"Sorry?"

He shrugged, "Do you want to stay and help paint? It's actually pretty fun."

"I don't have the appropriate attire," he said after a moment.

"I have extra joggers and t-shirts you can borrow if you'd like?" he offered.

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "If you don't mind. I've never painted the muggle way before."

"It feels good," Harry said as he started off toward his room to fetch clothes for Draco to borrow. "It feels like you've really accomplished something."

Draco laughed, following along behind him, "Ah, yes. I can see how you, who brought in only thirteen criminals to the DMLE this week alone, might feel the need to 'really accomplish something,'" he teased.

"Shut it," Harry said good naturedly as he dug out clothes for Draco to borrow and threw them at his head.

Draco caught them and Harry's eyes snagged on Draco's, holding them for a beat too long again, before he cleared his throat, "I'll see you in a few minutes," he offered lamely before fleeing his own bedroom.

----------

After several hours of painting (and laughing, and singing and dancing along with the wireless, and cleaning dripped paint off of several surfaces that it should never have been on in the first place) they decided to take a break for dinner.

They ordered a pizza and ate it sitting on the floor in the living room while they drank the bottle of wine Draco had brought. And as Harry stared at the rosy blush coloring Draco's cheeks from the wine and the laughter, he tried to remember the last time he'd felt this free and happy.

When he couldn't eat one more bite, Harry flopped down on his back on the floor in the living room with a groan, "My shoulder hurts from painting."

Draco nudged him with his knee. "You're getting old, Potter," he said with a little smile.

And he meant it as a joke but it twisted something in Harry's gut uncomfortably, "I never imagined I'd grow old," he confessed softly.

The smile slipped from Draco's face, "Harry, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," Harry said quickly, reaching out to press his pinky against Draco's. "It just my parents died really young, and there was everything with Voldemort, and for a long time after that I thought that surely one of his followers would finish me off," he shrugged. "And I just didn't expect to get old."

"You listen to me, Harry Potter," Draco said fiercely, his eyes bright in a way that made Harry's heart clench in his chest. "You are going to live to be ancient. Older than Dumbledore and infinitely happier."

"Oh?" he asked, smiling in spite of himself.

"Yes."

"How do you know?" he asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, "Because I do. And if there is something else destined for you, I will make it so by sheer force of will." He wrapped his pinky around Harry's and something thrilled in the pit of Harry's stomach, "You deserve the world and if the world will not hand itself over on a silver platter, I will give it to you."

He sat up and pressed his lips to the other man's without another thought because it was honestly nothing short of a miracle that he hadn't done it before now. And honestly, how was he supposed to resist kissing him when the other man said things like that? "I love you," he breathed when he pulled back. And then he immediately wanted to take those words back, "Sorry," he spluttered as he collapsed back onto the floor and covered his face with his hands, "Godric, I don't know what's come over me. Sorry. Just forget-"

Draco's lips covered Harry's and stemmed the flow of words coming from his mouth.

"Mmrmph," Harry murmured against his mouth inelegantly before giving himself over to the kiss completely and reaching up to cup Draco's face with his hands.

"Don't be sorry," Draco whispered when he drew back a moment later, "Please say you meant it."

"I meant it," Harry replied softly as he brushed Draco's hair back.

"Good," Draco said, leaning down to kiss him softly once more. "Because I love you, too."

-----------

Day 115: Soft | Day 117: Movie

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterFour

Read on AO3 (EN) ///// Ler no AO3 (PT)

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit violence

Words so far: +19,998k (did not include this chapter)

Marks: @mionemymind​

When you return to the campfire, you laugh at the image of Bucky trying to learn to play guitar with Maria. He sounds like a disaster, squeezing the strings hard, or following the instructions in a way that is completely contrary to what she tells him. Maria however seems to be a very patient teacher, and when you sit around the campfire, you both exchange a knowledgeable look, where you were thanking her for the time with Carol

Nat hands you a beer, and remembering the three glasses of whiskey you had earlier, you grimace at her, saying that any more and you would be tripping. She laughs and says that your drunk version could entertain the party.

You spend several minutes talking and laughing, Pietro joins you shortly afterwards, bringing dominoes. He tries to hint that you should borrow your new set of cards, but you just signal that he was forbidden to mention poker to you indefinitely. Nat wins two games in a row, laughing when you and Pietro let out a grumble of dissatisfaction, and then Pietro hints that she was cheating, which makes her angry enough to try to hit him with the board. You get up to get more beer, laughing lightly as you leave your bickering friends behind.

You should be used to the habit of your gaze always searching for Wanda when she's not in your line of sight, but you always mentally reprimand yourself for doing so. You imagine that you used to disguise it better, seeing the look of malice that Thor casts when he sees you clearly looking for something. You think about disguising it, pretending that you had dropped something, but honestly, what's the point of pretending. He raises his glass in one direction, signaling the corner near Steve's tent, and you finally find it. Wanda and Monica are working together to set up Bucky's old radio, you realize as you watch them carry a small table with the piece of equipment on top.

Taking a long sip of your beer, you allow yourself to admire Wanda for the seconds it takes you to reach her. You remember how beautiful she looked in her dress, but you can't help thinking how irresistible she looks in her usual clothes, work pants and standard shirt, the suspenders hanging loosely against her waist, while the spurs attached to her boot scuff lightly on the grass as she walks. You don't think much about it, but you notice the open buttons of her shirt, her collarbone exposed. You imagine that she might have felt hot after searching for the radio in the warehouse wagon, and you know that if she needs it, you will offer her your coat.

Wanda smiles at you when she sees you coming close, you shyly reciprocate.

- We thought we might dance a bit. - She says as soon as you reach her. Monica approaches with batteries in her hands.

- I'll be happy to look. - You joke, and Wanda looks at you with a mixture of seriousness and amusement.

- No way, the birthday girl dances with everyone. - She warns, raising a finger at you. You laugh, and feeling very confident after all that drinking, you don't think much and start letting the words flow out of your mouth.

- I just wanted to dance with you. - You confess amidst a smile, Wanda looks surprised, but smiles with a slightly flushed face. The sound of the radio catches both of your attention, breaking the moment.

The sound attracts other members of the gang, and before long they are almost all - with the exception of Maria and Thor, who seem engaged in a very heated debate about the best breeds of horse - together in the area of Steve's stall.

- Does anyone have a choice of music? - Monica asks as she fiddles with the buttons on the radio, turning up the volume, the sound is pleasantly loud in the room

- Anything that you can dance to. - Pietro suggested, and when the first sounds of the chosen melody began, he excitedly took Nat by the hand. She laughed, pushing him lightly by the shoulders.

- It's not polite to pull a lady along, boy! - You heard her say. - Ask if I want to dance first.

- Would you like to dance with me, Natasha? - Pietro asked, bowing dramatically, as if he were making a reference. Nat laughed.

- Of course not, go bother the other ladies. - She denied this humorously, and Pietro pretended to be offended. He walked towards Monica and held out his hand, repeating the invitation in a gentler manner. The woman smiled before accepting, and as their dance began, others soon joined in. You watched fondly as Bucky pushed his shoulder against Steve's slightly, an amused expression on his face. Steve put the beer on the counter and extended his hand to his friend, who accepted, and they began to dance. Peggy invited Potts, and they joined the group. Nat walked over to you and Wanda, a mischievous smile on her face. You were about to offer to dance with her, but she was quick to say.

- I'll take this. - She said as she grabbed the beer you were carrying.

- Are you sure you don't want to...

- You know very well that I don't dance. - She interrupts you. - Besides, you're both dying to dance together.

Nat winked at you before walking away, and you felt your face heat up. Turning to Wanda, you found her already looking at you. You smiled and she offered her hand to you, inviting you to dance. You shifted your weight between your feet before accepting.

- I can't dance, Wands. - You whisper as you come closer. Wanda just smiles at you tenderly.

-Follow my lead then. - She answers in the same tone, interlacing your hands. With her other hand, she grabs your free forearm, bringing it up to her own shoulder, showing you where to place it. You begin to look down at your own feet in anticipation, and Wanda places a finger on your chin, slowly lifting your face to make you look into her eyes. - You must look into your partner's eyes.

- But what if I step on your feet? - you ask half breathless at the intensity of her gaze.

- Don't worry, darling. Just breathe. - She assures you, and you feel her hand around your waist. 

And then her body moves, and you focus on following. You count your steps mentally, and try to focus on not stepping on Wanda's feet. It is very hard to concentrate on anything with emerald eyes staring at you with intensity, and the smell of Wanda that seems to overpower all your senses. You are nervous, and your body is tense. You feel guilty as you notice Wanda's frown due to your posture.

- Relax, Y/N. - She whispers tenderly. - It's just me.

You smile, but find it difficult to obey as you look at her. So you lean your face against your hand on Wanda's shoulder. You miss seeing her face, but the position is also very good. She brings your bodies a little closer together, and you get used to the warmth of having her so close with ease. You stay like this, rocking together in an almost hug, your hands intertwined as the hand on your back goes down a little, and you let your gaze wander around.

If you thought you were dancing too close together, those thoughts vanish the moment you see Steve and Bucky, so tightly glued together that there is no space between their bodies. Monica and Pietro seem to be the only ones who are dancing further apart, yet they are very close. As the melody comes to an end, you hear the other members laughing, and Pietro goes towards the radio to change the music while you slowly separate from Wanda. She doesn't let go of your hand, however, and nods for you to follow her. You let yourself be pulled in the opposite direction from the hut area, to a more secluded corner among the trees. As you exit, Nat gives you a mischievous look that makes you blush.

When you were completely hidden from the rest of the camp, Wanda stopped, she looked nervous, shifting her weight between her feet as she let go of your hand. You looked at her curiously.

- I wanted to give you your present. - Wanda said, looking around as if searching for something. She bent down quickly to grab something behind a broken log.

She walked over to you with a mischievous expression. She handed over the package, and maybe it was the alcohol, but you found her fingers lingering on yours as she did so.

A dark wooden box was placed in your hands, and you frowned curiously, wondering what was inside. In fact, the box was so beautiful that you would be very pleased if it were empty.

You opened the clasp, holding your breath in surprise as you noticed the contents. A revolver gleamed against your eyes. You knew very well what kind. It was the Lemat revolver you had wanted to buy on your one and only trip to Saint Denis with Wanda and Pietro. You joked that one day you would have enough money for weapons like that, without having to steal, as your gaze lingered on the item. You never imagined that Wanda would remember this. 

With the tips of your finger, you touched the details that were drawn into the metal of the gun, smiling as you noticed the figure of a wolf carved into the tip. The lone wolf was your nickname as a child, Steve used to call you that whenever you were angry and you needed to travel, you always walked several meters ahead of him, like "a lone wolf".

Feeling your emotions too close to overpowering you, you swallowed the urge to cry as you felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, how much attention Wanda had on you to think about the present. The redhead seemed anxious to know if you had enjoyed it, but you kept your face impassive as you looked at her. 

You stowed the gun back in its case, and held it in one hand while reaching down with the other for your old revolver hanging from your waistband. Removing the gun from its holster, you checked that it was properly locked before throwing it on the grass. Wanda watched you intently, frowning slightly in confusion, but you didn't speak. 

In no hurry, you removed your new gun from the box, taking one last look at it before putting it in its holster. Getting used to the weight as you closed your eyes for a moment.

Then you bent down quietly, and put the box down, finally looking at Wanda. She blinked at you in anticipation, and you bit your lip as you ran your gaze across her face. Your mind racing on so many possibilities of how you could return the gift. The thoughts were innocent at first, but you would blame the alcohol for the direction they took next.

- Did you like it? - She asked without holding back, and you sighed without answering, which seemed to make her insecure.

- I'm thinking about how to repay something like that. - You answered mysteriously, and Wanda let out a nervous laugh, clearly affected by the intensity of your eyes.

- You don't have to. - She says, but you only disagree with a nod, and then she holds her breath as you approach. 

- I want to. - You speak in a low tone, and when your faces are inches apart, you can only stare at her mouth. - Good girls should be rewarded.

You almost stumble with shock when Pietro's voice interrupts the moment. He mumbles apologies as you turn away from Wanda, but then you really begin to understand what he said:

- He's here. Stephen is back! - He cheerfully affirms by waving for you two to go back to the camp. He runs towards the tents, and you turn to Wanda, but she just looks at you intensely, coming up to you and giving you a quick kiss on the corner of your cheek, very close to your mouth, before running after her brother.

You rush to grab the box and the pistol at your feet before running after them.

With Stephen's sudden return to the gang, everyone's mood seemed to improve considerably. And you felt much better knowing that he would treat Bruce, since he had always been the camp doctor.

It has been three days since you almost kissed Wanda in the forest in thanks for the gun you got as a gift. Every time you remember it you feel a wave of shame fill your body, and maybe a little guilt, for having been careless enough to drink to the point of ignoring the minimum of common sense. With this feeling, you had spent the last few days accepting all sorts of camp tasks, to keep yourself busy and unavailable as much as possible to talk about what had occurred. At every moment when your gaze met Wanda's, whether it was between carrying hay to the horse area, or during meals, you made sure to look away while you found a way to escape somewhere else.

As the date approached for the bank heist to take place, you could almost touch in the air the anxiety of those who would participate. Fortunately Thor was back in business and insisted that he would participate in the ambush. Bucky had already secured all the necessary weaponry, and Peggy confirmed that she was working with the final tweaks of the plan. Pietro and Nat went to Valentine the day before and discovered that the workers from the oil plant were all already in town, which seemed to be the last missing piece of the plan. Things seemed to be conspiring in your favor when it came to avoiding Wanda, since she had been as busy as you are, and had not even returned from the buffalo hunt she went on together with Thor and Stephen. 

In the late afternoon, you returned to your tent feeling exhausted from having spent all day organizing the ammunition wagon, as one of your punishments for the Limpany shooting. Bucky was kind enough to sit next to you while he cleaned some weapons, and when he was done, he practiced a bit of guitar playing.

You threw yourself on the bed, groaning against the pillow. Fortunately, your shoulder was practically healed by now, and you didn't need any more bandages. You heard someone huffing in the doorway, so you opened one of your eyes lazily, and caught sight of Nat standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a suggestive look on her face.

- You know, I'm surprised at how well you're holding up. - She says, and you close your eyes, too tired to puzzle. Seeing your lack of interest, she gives you a wry smile, thinking how stubborn you are when you want to be. - I thought you would only last a day.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Your voice was muffled against the pillow, but you kept your eyes closed and your face against the fabric. It was so soft.

- In fact, Pietro and I bet that you wouldn't go two days without talking to each other. I'm only bringing this up because I'm losing the bet. - You felt your stomach turn when you finally understood what she said. But not wanting to give her the taste of being right, you just let out an impatient grunt against the pillow, which made Nat laugh instead of pushing her away. - Pietro bet that you would be stubborn enough to hold out until Wanda pushed you off your horse, but I thought you wouldn't go two days without talking to the redhead. You know I don't like to lose.

- Nobody likes to lose. - You retorted. - That's the whole point of betting. 

She stood with her arms crossed as you lifted your face from the bed, and then you adjusted yourself to sit up on the mattress. Seeing your tired expression, Nat assumed a worried look.

- What is happening to you?

You thought you were going to cry. But you only smoothed your hair and gave her a sad smile. She closed your tent and sat down beside you on the bed.

- I almost kissed her on my birthday. - You confess with a lost look in your eyes.

- Isn't that a good thing?

- I was drunk. - You retorted. - I can't believe I was going to grab her in the middle of the forest. That's so scary.

Nat watched you sink your face in your hands, and she began to play with your hair, trying to calm you down.

- You talk as if you were some unknown drunk who chased Wanda into the woods. - She says in an almost amused tone. - I really don't understand how your head comes to such conclusions.

- I just didn't want it to be like that. - You say, moving your fingers nervously. - I don't know what I really wanted. Maybe I wanted it to be special.

- My God, you are so corny. - Nat sneered, but there was no malice in her tone. She braided your hair loosely, and then held out your hand. - I really think that you two are made for each other. And that no matter where it happens or how, Wanda will enjoy your first kiss. 

- And you say that I'm the one who's corny. - You joke, and Nat nudges your shoulder lightly, laughing softly. 

- Oh, but you are indeed. - She replies. - I always thought that you've been secretly dating for years.

You groaned uncomfortably, Nat laughed at your expression.

- I brought something for you. - She says after a moment of silence. Only then you notice that she was carrying something in her pants pocket, and she moves on the bed to pick it up. She hands you a holster. - I hear you have two revolvers now. You can have my extra case.

You smiled, thanking her. Nat whispered a " Don't mention it" before kissing you on the forehead and leaving. Without getting out of bed, you reached for your belt hanging from the chair on your desk and slipped the holster you had earned onto the front of the bed. You were happy to know that you could carry two weapons now. 

Putting your belt back on the chair, you yawned, deciding to get some sleep.

It seemed like a weekend, you thought as you took a sip of coffee, which you almost spit out when you tasted the bitterness. Saloons weren't exactly the best place to get drinks like this, and since you were avoiding alcohol, it was either bitter coffee or water. You began to think that water was the better option.

Steve had sent you to Valentine to get uniforms from the factory, or more accurately, steal uniforms. Peggy had made one last adjustment to the plan, and you found out that you would need to infiltrate the factory if you wanted information about the safe where the money was going to be. Pietro would be the one to infiltrate the place, and since he was the fastest rider, he would have to get out of there as fast as he could to let Peggy know which was the correct safe. You weren't going to start any unnecessary gunfire, so anything that could be done in silence, would be.

You had been waiting for the two clearly inebriated men to finish playing to follow them, and that had been for about two hours. You sighed without patience, and then walked over to the table, trying to sound as friendly as possible when you joined the game. 

If you bankrupted them in the game, they would have no choice but to leave the table, you thought as you received your cards from the dealer. 

You played carefully but objectively, remembering all the tactics that Fury taught you. In less than an hour of play, you had already defeated one of them. But because you were too focused on the game, you didn't notice the threatening posture the loser assumed. 

When you finally defeated the second one, the men were not the slightest bit pleased. You stumbled backwards when one of them pushed you against the counter. 

- I don't like being robbed, girl. - Said the brown-haired man, he had a threatening expression on his face, and you felt quite intimate as he had a knife pressed to your throat.

-A bad loser I see. - You sneer, and he blinks angrily. But then there is a gun pointed at the man's forehead and the grip of the knife on your throat loosens. The bartender doesn't seem willing to witness a murder in his bar. You know his name is Tom, and you thank him softly when he asks the men to leave the bar. But your relief is short-lived, for as you walk out, they are waiting for you outside.

- I want my money back, whore! - One of them shouts and you take a few steps back, your boots clattering in the mud of the road.

- Come on fellas, I won fair and square. - You try to argue, and then you see the man draw his knife at you again. Impatient, you lower your hand to the holster, and the other man imitates the movement. You had no intention of ending up in a duel when you woke up this morning, but here you were.

The man with the knife stepped aside, clearing the shooting area for his friend. You let out a sigh, your hand gripping the revolver. Your gaze focused on the man in front of you, a few steps away. It was a risky duel, and you hoped he was as bad at aiming as he was at poker. 

A moment passed, and then you grabbed your gun and fired. Fortunately, faster than your opponent, who fell to the ground with a thud. The other man was in a state of shock as you stood there, smoke billowing from the tip of your revolver. You barely had time to normalize your breathing when the other man lunged at you with knife in hand. You fired twice, and watched the expression of pure shock as he staggered back, and then fell over dead. You felt a slight burning sensation on your cheek, indicating that he had cut you, but you barely had time to process the two murders when you felt yourself being pulled away. 

Valentine's sheriff seemed more interested in showing service than actually helping anyone, and he didn't believe or care that it might have been self-defense when he threw you into one of the jail cells, which was only a few yards from the saloon.

There was only one other man in the jail, locked up in the cell across from yours. An arrogant-looking lady called the sheriff through the back doors, and he left you two alone. You tried to see where your guns were kept, but could not.

- He keeps them inside that cabinet, on the top shelf. - The man said, and you turned your face toward him. - And the key to the cells is near the door.

- Steve is going to kill me. - You grumble before sitting down on the floor, your legs stretched out on the ground.

You both remain silent for several moments, until the sheriff returns. He has a lipstick stain on his shirt, and you roll your eyes.

- Wilson, great news for you. - says the sheriff walking to the cell opposite yours. The prisoner has a serious look on his face. - I finally got a carriage for Sisika, they will pick you up tomorrow morning.

Wilson ducked his head and clenched his fists, while the sheriff let out a wicked chuckle. 

- If I'm lucky, they'll take you too, cutie. - Said the sheriff looking at you, but you didn't bother to answer.

You tried not to panic at the thought of a federal penitentiary. You hated having to depend on anyone, but you really hoped that your friends would notice your absence and come to your aid.

Looking at your fellow prisoner, you avoided feeling sorry for the downcast expression he acquired, after all you didn't know what he had done to be here. Still, you sympathized with him; it wasn't easy to receive news like that.

Trying to get some idea of what to do, you closed your eyes, burying your head in your knees. But in the end, you just fell asleep.

You dreamed of long red hair, and woke in a jolt, banging your head against the small shelf that held the cell bed. Massaging the spot, you looked forward, surprised to see Wilson signaling you to be quiet.

You ran your gaze around and widened your eyes as you noticed the figure of Monica, silently stealing the key to the cell. The sheriff was too distracted by her cleavage to notice, and you really hated this man with each passing second. Monica pretended to laugh, holding the sheriff's arm, and finally grabbing the key. She asked the officer to go somewhere more private, that she would like to show him something, and when he took her to the backdoors, she handed the cell key to you through the bars.

Quickly freeing yourself, you ran to the weapons locker, looking for your holster. Duly armed, you turned toward Wilson's cell.

- I hope I don't regret this. - You grumble as you release him. He nods in thanks, shaking your hand. And then he runs to the gun cabinet and grabs what you believe to be his.

You hear a noise and both of you turn toward the back door. Through the window you can see Monica struggling with the sheriff, who seems to want to force a kiss. You feel your chest bubbling with anger and rush outside. Before you can do anything, someone shoots the sheriff, who falls to the ground.

You walk over to Monica, who assures you that she is fine, just a little out of shape from being out of a fight for so long. You hug her in thanks before you run away from the scene, she points out where the horses are, and you are surprised to notice that Wilson is still with you.

- My name is Sam. - The man says. - I have nowhere to go.

You and Monica exchange a look, and then she offers her hand to help him get on her own horse. 

- Steve will take care of this. - She says before you ride out of town. 

When you arrive, you let out an exclamation that makes Monica and Sam look at you curiously.

- I didn't get the fucking uniform. - You say, and Monica looks at you with a mischievous smile. She reaches into her own horse's saddlebag and pulls out the folded uniform set. 

- It's easier to steal when they're dead. - She comments, and you look at her with a mixture of pride and surprise. You think that she and Pietro really are made for each other, blessed sticky fingers.

As they enter, you assure the others that you were fine, and you discover that Monica just told them that you had had complications and needed some help. She tells you that she overheard two merchants leaving Valentine commenting on the shooting while she was hunting rabbits, and when she told the rest of the camp, she didn't mention that you might have been shot. 

When the others see Sam, they seem apprehensive about having a stranger in camp, but Steve asks to talk to him privately in his tent. You knew that he would invite Sam to join you as soon as he knew that he helped Monica.

You walk back to your tent, immediately wanting to take a shower. Then your exit is blocked by Wanda looking quite annoyed. You take a step back, shocked by the sudden presence.

- You are avoiding me. - she accuses, looking hurt. Honestly, you don't feel much like having this conversation right now, and considering that you almost died a few hours ago, you just want to take a shower.

- I've just been busy. - You retort, holding her gaze.

- Why are you lying?

You bite your tongue hard to avoid smiling. Wanda is ridiculously beautiful, it's so unfair that you can't get annoyed with her. Completely oblivious to your internal conflict, she has an accusing expression, but the glint in her eyes shows that she is upset, hurt that you are lying to her so blatantly.

- Look, I almost died twice today and was arrested, I would like to take a shower before embarking on another conflict.

Her expression changed to concern.

- What do you mean you almost died? - She questioned and her gaze ran over your face, and when she noticed the dried wound upon your cheek, she raised her hand quickly, her touch electrifying your whole body at the same speed that made you relax more than any hot bath. - What happened?

- I won at poker. - You joked, fighting the urge to close your eyes at her touch. Wanda frowned and lowered her hands. - It was a misunderstanding. Monica saved my ass and now I'm here. 

- You don't seem to be telling me anything anymore. - She said with a serious look on her face, and you swallowed hard, guilt clutching your stomach. And you spent too long thinking about what to say, that you miss your chance. Wanda gave you one last hurt look, before saying, "Have a nice bath," and left your tent. You kept staring for minutes at where you saw her last.

You were very angry when you returned to your room, mumbling disconnected words as you threw yourself on your bed, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. You had the choice of getting up and apologizing, explaining to Wanda that you just felt insecure, or staying in your bed and whining, so of course you didn't get up.

Refusing to cry, you tried to look for something to do that would get the image of Wanda's hurt look out of your head. You thought about cleaning your weapons, but then you remembered that one of them was the revolver you had received as a gift, so you gave up the idea.

Running your eyes around the room, you tried to find something else, your eyes lingered on your bedside table, a picture of you, Wanda, Pietro, Monica and Nat, when you were younger, and Steve insisted that he would like to have a picture of the camp kids. You must have been about ten years old, and you were dressed in your best clothes, a bandage on your forehead covering up a fight wound.Pietro had one arm on your shoulders and one on Wanda's, he had a toothless smile on his face, his front baby teeth had fallen out shortly before that photo.  Nat and Monica were the tallest, and stood one at each end. Even though it was black and white, you remembered the blue jacket that you yourself had stolen as a present for Nat. 

You looked away from the photo quickly, letting out an impatient sigh. Even trying, you couldn't stop thinking about Wanda, the marks of her presence all over your life. You decided it was best to look for something to do outside your tent.

You noticed Doctor Stephen coming out of Bruce's tent when you left yours. He looked happy, and you felt your chest fill with hope that Bruce was better.

Walking over to Stephen, you greeted him. 

- Ah, look at you, Y/N. - He replied as he put away his medical equipment inside his own tent. - You're growing up fast.

You looked down at the ground blankly.

- I guess so. 

Stephen finished arranging his own things, and when he turned to you, he signaled for you to accompany him to the campfire area.

- You seem to want to ask me something. - He says as he sits down, pouring himself a coffee pen, which was always available at the campfire.

- I just wanted to see how Bruce was doing. 

- Much better. - he says. - Soon he will return to his duties and I will go back to Saint Denis.

You nodded, slightly disappointed that Stephen was leaving, but glad that Bruce was better. They shared the role of camp doctor, but Stephen hardly ever stayed with you, saying he had business of his own to attend to in Saint Denis. You, Wanda and Pietro were the only ones who knew that he had a family waiting for him there.

- But I feel that's not what you want to talk about. - He says after a moment, and you frown. At your expression, he lets out a giggle, and puts his mug down, turning to you with a gentle expression. - You can ask me about Wanda.

You blink, looking away. Stephen was like a mentor to Wanda, and you imagined it would be awkward, to say the least, to talk to him about it. But knowing that he had just returned from a hunt with her and Thor, he had probably noticed something in her behavior, being the observer that he is.

- I think I might have hurt her. - You say, and he nods slightly.

- I thought she looked more angry than hurt. - He says almost in a mocking tone, and you run your hands through your hair.

- Hurt or angry, I fucked up. 

- That is true.

Stephen's tone is playful, and you smile while rolling your eyes. He had always been more relaxed about this kind of subject than you are. 

- Wanda has mentioned that you are avoiding her. - he says after a moment. - She was... distracted during the hunt.

- Yeah, I was running away. - You grumble, looking down at the ground feeling embarrassed. He lets out a sigh, and reaches his hand out to your knee.

- I know how much you care about her, child. - he says. - Ever since you were little, you've been inseparable. So I don't understand your hesitation.

You let out a sad sigh, trying to smile at Stephen.

- I don't think I am what she deserves. - You confess and he frowns. You keep talking, believing that if you don't say things now, you won't say them anymore. - I just... She's so incredible. She' s so strong and so smart, and so so good. She deserves someone who can give her more than a tent on the ground or a campfire. 

Stephen raises his hand to lift your face, making you look at him.

- Do you really believe that? - He asks seriously, but his eyes are tender. He doesn't wait for you to answer. - Listen to me for a moment, will you? I won't speak for Wanda, I never could. What I can assure you is that you are an extraordinary young woman. You are brave and admirably loyal. And most important, is the way you love Wanda with vehemence and devotion. There is no one who deserves her more than you.

You nodded, feeling the tears streaming down your face. Stephen smiled, and wiped them away, moving closer to place a kiss on your forehead. 

- I don't want to hear you say things like that about yourself, okay? - He asks in a serious tone, and waits for you to agree. 

- I promise I won't. - You say, and he nudges you lightly on the nose, making you laugh before turning away, going back to drinking his coffee. He takes a sip, and you are silent for a moment, before he holds up his finger as if he has an idea, and turns to you, with an expression somewhere between humorous and serious.

- Now try to apologize to Wanda. She gets very annoyed when she is mad at you.

You laugh lightly, but then realize that he is telling you to do this now. He continues to stare at you, and you sigh before standing up. Stephen lifts his pen lightly wishing you good luck and you turn toward Wanda's tent.

But your steps are interrupted by Nat, who has a concerned expression on her face. You frown, but she just signals for you to follow her towards Steve's tent.

- We have a problem. - Steve announces as soon as you arrive, he is leaning both hands against the center table, a map stretched out in front of him. 

- What's wrong? - you ask, and then feel nervous as you notice Wanda standing at the other end of the tent next to Pietro. You look away quickly.

- The O'Driscolls are drunk idiots, that's the problem. - Steve replied, looking stressed. He apologized a second later for his harsh manner, and then he straightened his posture. - Peggy just got back from town, she found out that some O'Driscolls were killed at the oil plant, trying to steal masonry titles. One of them was drunk enough to tell them that they were planning to steal the money from the land purchase.

- Oh, shit. - You grumbled. - Any chance this won't get to Stark?

- Unfortunately it already has. - Steve replied with his arms crossed. - The mess happened two days ago. And the local guards sent a carriage to Saint Denis the same day. Peggy spoke to our contact at the bank, and Stark cancelled the deposit.

- Will he no longer buy the land? - you asked.

- Oh, he is. Only the money will be transferred by train. - Steve clarified, and then he took a pen and started to draw a route on the map on the table. - Which means that we are going to change the route completely.

- At least now we are not going to break into a bank. - Nat remarked softly to you, and you smiled at her. 

- We will have two chances to access the money. - Steve explained as he finished scratching out the map. You notice that he also circles two points. - Stark will bring the money in a carriage that will leave his estate somewhere in the Cumberland Forest, but no one knows from where exactly. Besides, he has his own personal guard, and even if we could find out where his house is, it would still be a pain in the ass to get in there. 

- I imagine that this carriage will be extremely well protected too. - Pietro commented, and Steve just nodded in agreement.

- Our first option is a bit risky, but it might work if we were fast enough. - Steve said. - When Stark negotiates the purchase, he will need to show the money to the real estate agents, and the safe will either be inside one of the carriages for the seller to confirm the amount, or the safe will be carried to one of the factory rooms for counting. 

- If we try to steal the safe from inside the factory, we will face twice as many guns. - Said Nat with crossed arms, Steve nodded in agreement.

- Exactly, Natasha. Our only advantage would be for Pietro to infiltrate as an employee and get us inside quietly.

- Not a chance! - You say, and Steve frowns. - You won't send Pietro alone. One mistake and he would have more than a hundred guns pointed at him. It's too dangerous.

Pietro stared at you in slight surprise, looking embarrassed that you had stood up to Steve for him. Wanda had a look in her eyes that you couldn't decipher.

- Yes, you're right. - Steve said after a moment. - We only have one other option left then. We'll steal the money when it's transferred to the train.

- Train? - asks Maria from the other corner of the tent. - But there are no stations in the area.

- Ah, yes. But everything works for those who have money. - Bucky said with irony. Steve smiled before explaining: 

- Stark has asked that the checkpoint in the Heartlands area be reactivated. It's near the factories, and they're going to take the safe by carriage there. - He marked on the map the location. - The train will only stop here and then go straight to Saint Denis.

- We always end up stealing a train. - You whispered to Nat, who smiled with amusement.

- We don't know how many guards will board the train, however, the number will be smaller than if we take on all the guards at the factory plus Stark's guards.

- Let's go over the final arrangement of the plan then. - Peggy announced. - We're going to need more people to stay on board, especially now that we're going to jump on a moving train. - Peggy explained with a light irony that drew laughter from everyone. She took a small notebook from her jacket, where you guessed she had organized the names and functions, before speaking again. - Steve and I ride together to the meeting point in the negotiation area, where we will be able to see Stark's carriage on its way. Thor and Bucky stand further away, each in a different direction, to signal if there is another guard formation. Meanwhile, Nat and Monica stand guard at the location where we will board the train. Y/N, Pietro and Wanda wait a little ahead, to signal when the train is coming and you find the ideal spot to jump off without being seen by the guards. We will ride to you as soon as the train leaves.

- Does anyone have any questions? - said Steve looking at everyone. You were going over the plan mentally so you didn't say anything.

- When we get on the train, who will take care of our horses? - asked Nat, leaning slightly against you.

- Actually, I suggest you split up the mounts. It will be faster to call the horses back if you have fewer. We can have them follow the train as well.  - Peggy said, and then she pointed her fingers around the gang members, as if she were counting. - Let's see, me, Bucky, Steve and Thor will be on our own horses. Nat and Monica can ride together, and so can the twins. 

- I guess that's all. - Steve announced. - Rest, and avoid alcohol tonight. We'll ride tomorrow.

You began to feel slightly anxious as soon as you left the tent. Changing plans on the eve of a strike was a very dangerous thing. Nat put an arm around your shoulders, while you walked outside.

- Ready to rob a train, old friend? - she said in a playful and ironic tone, you laughed.

- Always. - You replied in the same tone. Nat waved you goodnight before leaving towards her tent, and you were walking towards yours, but then you bit your lip and turned on your heel, heading towards Pietro and Wanda's tent.

Pietro had just come in when you arrived, and Wanda was already sitting on her bed. He smiled at you.

- Honey, have you come to wish me good luck? - He teased, throwing his arms around you. You pushed him away, making him laugh.

- I wanted to...

- Oh, I know just what you wanted. - He interrupted, pretending to be hurt as he raised a hand to his chest, dramatizing. - I am so dedicated to this friendship and you don't even come to see me or say good night!

You frown with mock amusement, watching Pietro pretend to have a crying face. He pushes you slightly to get out of the tent.

- I want a divorce, Y/N. - He announces dramatically. - You may have Wanda, but the house is mine!

You hold back a laugh as you nudge him in the chest. He just laughs and turns around, walking toward the fire.

A smile plays on Wanda's lips as you turn around, you take a deep breath before entering the tent, and then you sit down on Pietro's bed, facing the redhead. She looks down at the floor, and you let your gaze wander over her face.

It takes a moment, but Wanda finally looks into your eyes, and you hold her gaze. As you look at each other, you feel your heart race, but you don't mind.

- Hi. - You sigh breathlessly after a moment. Wanda's gaze wavers.

- Hi. - She says without smiling, her gaze falls back to the ground.

You bite the inside of your cheek, but before you can think of what to say next, Wanda speaks again, her expression serious.

- Thank you for standing up for Pietro. - You blink in confusion, but Wanda continues. - About the situation at the factory.

- No problem. - Your voice comes out a little hoarse, and you cough before you speak again. - I don't think they'd make him go by himself anyway.

- Still, thank you. - she says, and you nod. Wanda moves her hands nervously. - Do you want anything, I'm going to sleep already…

- I want to apologize. - You interrupt her, and she looks at you quickly. You look away for a second, feeling embarrassed. But knowing that apologies should be made with an eye to the eye, you take a deep breath and face her. - Wanda, I'm sorry I avoided you these days.

- You really admitted it. - She grumbled, looking surprised and hurt. You swallowed hard.

- I was afraid. - You confessed, and she looked at you with confusion. - I thought I had crossed a line with you. But I'm not afraid anymore. Well, I'm still scared, because this is new, but okay, it's a good feeling…

You started to ramble and Wanda let out a giggle, and then she lunged at you, hugging you, and shutting you up. In your shock, you fell off the bed on your knees, but you kept hugging each other.

- Please don't keep things from me. - She asked in a low tone, mumbling against your hair. You nodded in agreement, squeezing her in your arms before you pulled away. - Will you tell me why you were avoiding me? - She asked looking at you curiously, and even a little defiantly, as if checking to see if you would keep hiding things from her. You bit your lower lip, blushing, and bowed your head in agreement.

- I thought I was crossing a line with you that day in the forest. - You mumbled without looking at her. Wanda frowned, blushing slightly.

- You were going to kiss me, right? - she asked in a whisper. Your heart raced, but you nodded in agreement. Wanda looked down at the floor, a shy smile on her lips. - I would have liked that.

You felt your face heat up at the confession, but smiled, looking at Wanda. It took a moment for her to meet your gaze, her face flushed, but when she did, you felt your stomach turn with nervousness.

- Look, I hate to interrupt the couple's reconciliation, but I have a train to rob tomorrow. - Pietro's voice broke the moment completely, and you almost fell back in astonishment when you noticed Pietro standing at the entrance of the tent, with a mischievous smile. 

- Perfect timing as always. - You grumbled as you got up from the floor, reaching out to help Wanda. Pietro came into the room next, pushing you lightly as he threw himself on his own bed. You let out a grumble of dissatisfaction.

- I told you I'd keep the house. - He teased last, and you tugged on his pillow, causing him to let out an indignant exclamation, but you were quick to throw the object against his face with mock amusement.

- Good night, sweetheart. - You retorted, quickly pulling away to keep him from hitting you with the pillow. You laughed as you left the room. Wanda hurried after you and you were surprised to see her following you out. 

Outside, at the entrance to her cabin, Wanda waited until you turned toward her, and then she stepped closer to you, putting her hands on your neck, and pulling your face toward her. She met your lips in a firm but soft kiss. 

You staggered back in surprise, closing your eyes. Your whole body throbbed, but before you could respond, she pulled away. 

- Goodnight. - she whispered in a husky tone, before turning back to her own cabin.

You stood there for a few seconds, unable to process exactly what had happened, the sensation of Wanda's lips against yours tingling in your mouth. A good few minutes passed before you returned to your own tent, a foolish smile on your lips.

[definitelynotsuzumi]

Zapped to Another World [Chapter 4}

I can finally update now that its school break! Thank you all for your patience!

[Masterlist]

Aether wiped off a stray droplet of sweat, weaving the plant fibres into the shape of a lantern. It has only been 2 days into the festival and already, he was swamped with the task of creating more lanterns to take to people who were too far from the harbour.

“Aether, Aether look! Look at this! Doesn’t it look like Paimon?” His white-haired floating fairy chattered excitedly, waving around what looked like an amber on a stick.

“What’s that, Paimon?” Aether paused in his lantern making to give the stick a once-over.

It was artfully sculpted to look like the said fairy and it smelled incredibly sweet.

“The lady said it was Karamel! I got another for you too!” Paimon excitedly fished out a star-shaped one. Cautiously, Aether gave it a lick. It tasted warm and sweet. It reminded him of home. Lumine…

“You’ve been at that lantern for the past 2 hours. C’mon, take a small break.” While Paimon may have been wrong about several things before, Aether knew that she was right on this fact.

“Alright, let’s have a break then.”

After 3 days(and night) of walking and riding on the back of wagons, you had finally reached the gates of Liyue.

Liyue looked spectacular with the lanterns adorning every corner of the street. You were in awe. You thought it looked beautiful in the game, but in the flesh…It was more than you could ever dream of.

Each lantern had its own unique design. You could hear the drums and cymbals crashing as performers danced under a giant suit that looked like the Adepti of Liyue. The scent of grilling fish and sweets wafted through the thick hair of the harbour. It felt so homely, almost like one of the carnivals you had attended.

“Woah…Ow!” You bumped into a ginger-haired man. Tartaglia.

Cold reality slapped you across your face. The Fatui is everywhere.

“Oh! Sorry, are you alright?” Concern lit his handsome features. If you were not careful…You very much wanted to pull away your hand but you hesitantly let Tartaglia pull you up. You definitely did not want the man suspecting you about anything.

“Uhm, uh yeah sorry, I wasn’t looking. This is my first time seeing all of this…” You tried to gulp down your fear of the man.

“I feel you! Hahaha, are you new here? Well, you must be. I have not seen such a pretty lady like yourself around these parts before.”  Despite your fear of the Fatui, you felt your face flush in response to his flirting.

“Yeah, very much so, I’m afraid. I’m looking for a friend of mine. About yeh high and has a white floating fairy by his side.” You gestured a rough height.

“Oh! What a small world!” Tartaglia beamed at you. He seemed so innocent as he aimed a bright and friendly smile at you, but you knew better.

“Uh…Do you know him, by any chance?”

“Know him? Well of course! I dare say that he is one of my good friends! Come, come, I’ll take you to him!”

He gestured you to follow him, and reluctantly you did so.

Tartaglia had never seen someone so shy and scared before. Is it because I am part of the Fatui?

You looked so innocent when he bumped into you at the gates. The way you gaped and looked around Liyue like you’ve never seen it before… It almost reminded him of Teucer and his sisters in Shneznaya.

“Please don’t be afraid of me. While I admit, I am not that nice of a guy, I promise I won’t do anything bad to you.” Seeing you stiffen at his words, Tartaglia felt a particularly large drop of sweat dribbling down.

Did that just backfire?

“Childe?! What are you doing here?!” A familiar high pitched voice reached your ears. You could feel her disgust all the way from your place.

Yup, that was Paimon. By her side, was Aether, with his arms akimbo.

“Relax, I mean no harm. I bumped into this cute little girlie over here and thought I’d help her out in finding you.”

“Finding us? Wait what? Who are you?” Paimon frowned.

“Uh...Uhm I’m (Y/N)…Please let me follow you on your journey!” You bowed 90 degrees, hoping you could hide the flush on your cheeks. You’ve always dreamed of this moment but now that it is in your face, you felt your tongue being weighed down by iron ore.

“What?!” The sheer shock on their faces would have been comical under other circumstances, but right now, it did not do favours for your nerves.

“If…You would let me join? I’m sorry, was that too forward of me? My dad always talks about you and I thought maybe, if I joined, he would-“

“That’s okay. Please, it would be great to celebrate the Lantern Rite with more friends.” Aether fixed you with a warm smile that felt genuine.

“How about me?” Tartaglia winked at Aether.

“No.”

Aether felt slightly apprehensive when he saw you with Tartaglia, but taking in your clothes and the lack of the Fatui insignia and signature mask on your person, he was certain that you were innocent.

“So, where are you from?” Paimon asked as your group leisurely walked through the bustling streets.

Seeing Tartaglia by your side, you decided to tell a white lie.

“Mondstadt! My dad’s an Adventurer at the guild so he’s told me all about what you did!” You definitely felt better when Aether fell in step with you, walking and talking by your side. You couldn’t help but feel bad as you realized the amount of lies you were telling was increasing.

“Wow, we’re famous!” Paimon grinned at Aether.

“Yeah! You were amazing in that battle with the Stormterror! I thought…Maybe I could grow stronger if I journeyed with you. Ah, but don’t worry, I can cook and clean-“

“You can cook?!” Paimon began to salivate.

You nodded. You were able to cook a few dishes, thanks to your Home Ec classes.

“Can we have a taste?!”

You bit your lip as you surveyed the ingredients you had. A handful of sunsettias, berries, flour, sugar, butter and half a bottle of milk. Looking at your group waiting expectantly outside of Wanmin Restaurant, you smiled.

‘Guess I’ll let them have a taste of Dorayaki.’

Xiangling had also let you borrow a little of their ingredients in case you did not have enough to feed your group. Of course, you had paid her a generous tip for lending you her ingredients.

Combining some eggs, sugar and honey that Xiangling had, you whisked it up the best you could with a fork. You carefully passed the flour through a noodle sieve into the mix. You could feel his stare piercing you from behind as you tried to focus on cooking.

Mixing it all together, you fashioned a mini ice box with your Cryo powers to rest your mix and turned to making the sweet filling. With a sharp knife, you chopped up the sunsettias and berries and sat them in a pot of sugar.

You heated the sugar and fruits together, humming a soft tune as you fished out a mandarin orange and squeezed its juices into the berry jam you had made. Sliding the jam into a clean jar, you sat it in the ice box you had made.

Taking your rested mix, you added and mixed in a tablespoon of water before readying a skillet, greasing it over with butter.

Slowly but surely, you created a stack of perfectly brown and fluffy pancakes. Taking your cool jar of sunsettia and berry jam, you spooned out equal amounts of it onto the pancakes before pressing another pancake on top.

It was done! You placed the still warm dorayaki onto 3 plates, serving it to Aether, Paimon and Tartaglia.

“Woah…It smells…Incredible!” Paimon dove into the dorayaki right away. Paimon made the dorayaki look delicious as she enthusiastically gobbled down her treat.

You noticed Xiangling’s eyes glitter as she stared down at the dorayaki. You looked down at your own share. You honestly wanted to dig in too, but seeing her doe eyes made you sigh and surrender your portion to the young female chef.

“R-Really?! I can have this?!” You nodded with a soft smile as Xiangling leapt for joy before biting down. You did not think it was possible, but the light in her eyes shone even brighter as she tasted your dish.

“Say, wanna join the Wanmin Restaurant instead?” Xiangling asked, her bright smile spreading wide across her lips and eyes.

“…I’ll have to decline, I wanna travel with Aether more!” You sheepishly turned down the offer. Aether and Tartaglia clearly enjoyed the treat as you noticed them both licking off the jam on their fingers.

“I don’t know about you, but I accept her into our travel group!” Paimon declared as Aether laughed, wiping off the last of the jam on her chin.

“Hey, how about me?” Tartaglia grinned hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Still, a no from me.”

Tartaglia then turned his attention to you, trying to use his puppy dog eyes on you.

“Hey, (Y/N), how about me?”

You silently turned away from his gaze.

“Why are you three so cruel?”