#its the same feller anyway

[multifandom-brainrot]

Um so!! these sketches are about a year old, wayyy before i even considered starting this blog. but, since i have it now, i figured what better place to share them? forgive me if they're sloppy, like i said it's old HEH im shy again so it's going under the cut. who knows, maybe i'll redraw this +]

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 33

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

TW: CHARACTER DEATH. OFF-SCREEN SUICIDE.

This chapter is heavy with a bittersweet/happy ending. As for the intensity level of the death, think back to the chapter where Shane died. If you want to know more, look at the first tag of this post. Please be wary of this before you read!

Through the wire circle, down at the bottom of the hill, the tiny prisoners are being kicked out.

Curling my fingers tighter around the fence, I squint against the sun, watching as the gate is closed in their faces. They're left to stand there, without direction or purpose, in a sort of purgatory. They can either stay there and eat gravel until they starve, or they can face the outside world. If Dale can hear me, I'm sorry for thinking this, but, good riddance. There certainly ain't no phones out there no more, or even any food, and I know they'll die, but, good riddance. We'on know them. If we let them into our cell block, we'd be downright fools.

You don't put foxes in a chicken coop. It's just common sense, and we don't have much, but we have that.

As our group walk off to continue their chores, content with the death sentence, T-Dog lingers by the gate, digging into his pocket.

Surprisingly, he passes them what looks like a granola bar.

"They're gonna need more than that," Carl muses from beside me. "They need weapons. Ammo. Water."

The two prisoners are less than enthusiastic to receive the snack, but pocket it with a nod anyway. Rick went back into their cell block and packed up their half of the food for 'em, because a deal's a deal, but every crumb counts. A snack can save yer life same way a gun can. 

As they turn into the field beyond the prison, I shrug. "Rick'll prolly let them back into their cell block if they come back."

"You think they will?"

If they don't die out there first, then the answer is obvious. "S'like when ya put'cher dog outside when they's naughty!"

He giggles, "They always wanna come back in."

"Them two fellers ain't no wild dogs," I agree. "They's a pair of chihuahuas."

Before Carl and I can watch the two prisoners for any longer, the door to our cell block opens behind us.

Turning around, a smile makes its way onto my face as Herschel shakily plods down the steps, a crutch wedged underneath each of his armpits. Beth and Lori are dutifully fussing over him, ready to catch him if he falls, but he's managing just fine on his own.

"Whoo-hoo, Herschel!" Carl whoops as we walk over, earning a grin from his Momma. "You ready to race me, yet?"

"Give me another day. I'll take you on," He chuckles breathlessly as he breaches the last step, noticing Mouse. "Hey, boy."

I ask him hopefully, "Will ya race me, too?"

"Oh, no," He exclaims as he rests against the rusty railing, the white sunlight curving over his face. "Now, you're a different story."

"You're being silly," Lori smiles to him.

"I hope so."

"Don't worry, Herschel," I knock my elbow into his. "I'll go easy on ya!"

"How generous. Perhaps Carl and I will just have to verse you as a team?"

"Then it'll just be twice as embarrassing when she beats us both," Carl snickers.

Everybody down in the field can be heard shouting cheers up to us, as Herschel lifts his hand off the crutch to give them a wave.

"Come on," Lori says, eyeing his free hand until he grips the crutch again. "What do you say we go rest at that table over there?"

"Well, I'd say I've got no choice."

"You're right about that," Beth says as we guide him across the courtyard. "Carl, what do you think of his new pants? Stylish, huh?"

The boy glances down, only just noticing the change. "Hell yeah."

"Beth was telling us she tailored them herself," Lori says, sounding impressed.

"Well, I didn't do it alone," The girl smiles as we reach the picnic table, carefully sitting Herschel down. "Harley helped me."

"I just held the string," I say shyly.

"No job too small," Herschel muses to me with a smile, before gazing out at the scenery around us, sighing contentedly.

As grey and bleak as this place may be, with its dead walkers and concrete walls, it's a nice day out, which is always a consolation no matter where we are in the world. The sky hangs bright and blue like a polished dome over our heads, painted with smeared, fluffy clouds. If I really wanted to, I could pretend it's just another summer's day back on the farm, but I'on think I do. I don't need peaches and cows to be happy.

"Good to see you up and at 'em again, Greene," My Dad smirks as he comes through the gate, taking the man's shoulder.

As he squeezes and pulls away, Herschel exclaims, "It's good to be up. I couldn't stand to be in that bed a moment longer."

"I bet. You could come help me clear the fence if ya wanted," He jokes as he walks off. "My students are on break."

"We're just leaving the grunt work to the grunt," Carl calls after him.

"Sure you are," Dad says over his shoulder, before drawing his knife and downing one of the many walkers at the fence.

As he gets back to work, Mouse runs up to us with his tennis ball between his slobbery teeth, dropping it at my feet.

Picking it up, I hold it out to Herschel. "Wanna throw it for 'im?"

"Absolutely," He says, taking it.

He throws the ball across the courtyard, sending Mouse scrambling after it like it's a little animal he's gotta catch. It's nice watching Herschel play fetch with Mouse like this, spending the morning chatting with each other about useless things like the weather and seasonal crops. 

After about ten minutes, when he gives me the ball to throw, it skips like a stone into a pile of trash near the dumpsters. Whoops!

"Ohhh," Carl exclaims dramatically, watching Mouse nose through the junk. "Foul ball."

Giving him a bit of a shove on the shoulder, I laugh, "Shut up, Carl!"

"She never claimed to be a pitcher," Beth giggles. "She's more of a kicker."

"Yeah, I'm a kicker," I agree, with twinkle-toes Carl dodging me as I try landing a kick to his ankle, "Lemme show ya!"

"She's attacking me!"

"I'm a biter, too!"

"Kids will be kids," Herschel chuckles heartily to the girls, shaking his head. After a short pause, I hear him utter, "What—...?"

It takes me and Carl a moment to settle down, pushing at each other and swallowing down our giggles, before we look in the direction of the dumpsters, where everyone has pinned their attention. The laughter dies in my throat just as quickly as it had come alive. Mouse has completely abandoned his search for the ball — My first clue something's wrong —, staring unflinchingly around the corner.

He starts growling lowly, making my Dad turn around just before a rotten foot steps out into the open.

A face peeks out, melted and dripping.

A walker?

Out here?

Then there's a second, and a third, and a suddenly obvious cacophony of groans that could only come from a mob.

As another walker appears on the opposite side of the courtyard, sandwiching us in, Lori gasps.

I exclaim, "What the Hell?"

Where'd they come from?

"Get inside!" My Dad shouts at us, drawing his crossbow, shooting, killing the closest corpse. "Get inside, quick!"

"Come on," Lori grunts as she and Beth haul Herschel onto his crutches. "Come on, we have to go. We have to go!"

The rest of the group are running up the road, screaming our names and fumbling with keys and guns, ripping the gate to the courtyard open, but it's total and sudden chaos, walkers scattered everywhere. Rick rears his axe back, slamming it into a rotting forehead. The blood spurts. The body falls. We can't take this many on, not like this. Dad was right. We have to run. I unsheathe my knife as Herschel and the girls hobble across the courtyard, my eyes darting from face to face, from yellowed mouth to cloudy eyes to melted skin.

"Mouse?" I call out, feeling almost guilty for wanting to run off and save him. "Oh, my God!"

A body breaks apart from all the others. It reaches out for us, its fingers curved like scythes.

Beth squeals, terrified. "Get away from us!"

There's a disgusting SQUELCH as I drive my knife into its knee, the cold blood splattering my cheek. Twist. Pop. Its knee buckles.

Herschel and Beth scurry up the steps as I pull my knife out — I don't have to kill it. It'll only waste time — shouting coming from all directions as I watch another walker lunge for Herschel and Beth. He raises his crutch, bracing the rubber stub on its chest.

I stand up, ready to help.

As soon as I'm back on my feet, a loud alarm rings out, freezing me to the spot. Who turned those on?

"Harley!" My Dad's voice roars from across the courtyard. "Come here!"

"Let's go, girl!"

T-Dog takes my arm. I'm being dragged toward Dad, tryna spot everybody else. Rick, he's with Lori, Maggie, Carol, and Carl, shoving them all into a big, red cage, closing the door, and fending off more walkers with Glenn. Maggie shoots the lock. They huddle through the door to the prison. They're out. They're safe. Herschel and Beth, they're gone. I think — I hope — they managed to escape, too.

Where did all these walkers come from? We blocked the courtyard off, didn't we?

We reach the back of the courtyard. There's my Dad. He lowers his crossbow, a walker collapsing to the ground in front of him.

"Daddy!"

"Get over here!" He shouts, using his bow to bludgeon walker about to bite into his arm. "We gotta go! Gimme 'er!"

T-Dog shoves me forward.

Dad grabs my hand, his grip turning my skin a pure white, and we're running past walkers again, approaching a big, metal door.

He unholsters his gun and — BANG — shoots the lock off.

"Come on!"

"We can't close this behind us, man!" T worries as we run into the dark corridor, walkers following after us. "What we gonna do?"

Without answering, my Dad leads around a corner, cussing under his breath as he frantically looks around for another door.

After he takes us down what feels like a hundred more corridors, he finds one. "In 'ere! Quick!"

We slip inside. He slams the door shut, taking a step back, staring at it for a moment before it starts to shudder under the weight of the walkers pawing at it on the other side. No more running. God. We've trapped ourselves in here, but at least we're safe, at least we're alive. I wasn't so sure at first, but I can feel the blood pulsing through my muscles now, my breath leaving me in short, panicked bursts.

"Shit," My Dad pants hotly, his sweaty brow glistening even in the dark. "We okay? Baby, you okay?"

"I—I'm fine," I nod shakily, the blaring alarms suddenly cutting out. "W-What happened to everyone else?"

I think I managed to help Herschel and Beth get out safe, but we got separated before I could catch up to them. 

"I'on know," He admits, "I'on know. Seemed like we all scattered, but they'll look after each other. Least we're together."

The walker's shadows twitch and warp in black shapes against the grey of the floor, their fingers curling up underneath the bottom of the door like rotten little shrimps, tickling the metal with their chipped nails. They're wild dogs clawing at a rabbits' burrow, thirsting for blood.

When T-Dog doesn't respond, the only noise in this small, dusty room the snarls from outside, Dad asks, "T, man? You okay?"

I turn to look at him, the lack of sunlight making my eyes hurt.

T-Dog is staring at his feet like there's an interesting bug crawling on his ankle, wordless, looking up at us with wide eyes.

"Oh, my God," I breathe, watching the blood pour out.

There ain't no bug on his ankle.

There's a gaping bite.

"My sister used to babysit our neighbour's dog from time to time," T-Dog chuckles to himself, sat up against the wall opposite us. His legs are kicked out lazily in front of him, his smile plump and warm, like he's relaxing on his porch. The only thing missing is a cigarette between his fingers. I'on think he realizes that me and Dad ain't fully listening, or maybe he doesn't care. "Man, he was an ugly thing."

Already, this room smells like death, and there's nothing we can do except stew in it.

The door shudders violently in the background. 

"A lil' Scottish breed, or sum. One of them dogs with the big moustache and the angry eyes. Anyway," He sighs. It's difficult to look at him, in a way that makes me feel an aching sense of guilt for averting my eyes like this, but I just have to. I can't look at his smile anymore, or at the puddle of blood, or at the bite, or even at the walls, my gaze stuck unwaveringly on my boots. "There was this one weekend. She'd just got done takin' the lil' guy for a walk, and she was on the phone with her friend, talkin' about a party. 'Course, I was eavesdroppin'."

He wheezes a laugh to himself as my Dad continues to stare emptily at him, not entertained in the slightest.

"I thought to myself, 'Girl. Our parents are gonna kill you if they find out.' She was never the bookworm type, or anythin' like that. She was a bit of a bully, mind. Used to invite me to get ice-cream with her and her friends and make fun of me the whole time-type stuff."

Shut up, I wish I could shout in his face without angering the walkers outside, It doesn't matter now. You're bit!

When I thought I'd gotten scratched back at the quarry, I spent all night thinking of things that didn't matter, so maybe I can't blame him.

"I just got so jealous," He whispers, his smile fading, a sad look in his eyes. "I'on even know what pushed me to do it, but I went into the backyard and I opened the gate. Let the dog out. I knew I'd done the wrong thing when I saw the look on 'er face. I even went with her when she was puttin' up missin' posters all over our neighbourhood, shoutin' his name. Pepper, pepper. We ain't never found him."

"Don't you just sound like a pair'a angels," My Dad dares to joke.

He laughs. "That's what Grimes said."

That was back on the farm, when T was tryna make me feel better 'bout my fight with Carl by telling me a story 'bout his sisters stealing from him. He's always had the most ridiculous stories that make us all laugh, and he would let us, even if it was at his expense.

If I were to think about useless things, too, I'd think of him nicknaming me and Carl, little nerds, him sharing his pretzels with me while I was unwell, how he went with Rick and Dad to save me from Shane, those stupid shirts we got him and Glenn for Christmas.

"Well, ya know what they say about great minds," Dad mutters non-committedly, before there's another thud on the door.

"Daddy?"

"Hm?" He grunts, leaning toward me.

Into the shell of his ear, I shyly whisper, knowing he can't do nothin' about it, "I'on wanna be in here, no more. I wanna leave. Please."

"I know, chicken. I know," He soothes, putting his arm around my shoulders, cradling my head against his side. "M'sorry."

T-Dog asks, "What'd she say?"

"She don't like it in 'ere."

"Well, I'm sorry, too. I'm gonna die," He chuckles incredulously, his belly shuddering. "And all I can think about is that damn dog."

"How you feelin', man?"

"Like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound sack," T-Dog slurs, his head lolled onto his shoulder. "Thanks for askin'."

It's been hours since we trapped ourselves in this room. I can tell, not only because of the way my stomach has begun to roil with hunger and my mouth has gone dry like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other, but because of poor T-Dog. His bald head is slathered in sweat, the droplets sliding down his face as if he's sitting under a showerhead, but I know it's the work of the germs inside his body.

Dad, Merle, and I saw this hitch-hiker get bitten back in the beginning, while we were staying with this group of people whose supplies we ended up stealing. They was the types to pick up needy travellers on the side of the road, even if they'd just been bitten.

Merle wanted to kill the guy when he found out, but it only took half a day for the bite on the man's leg to do it for him.

"I think we gotta start thinkin' about—," My Dad cuts himself off, before muttering, "What we gon' do."

"We wait here until somebody finds us," T-Dog insists, repeating the plan they had came up with hours ago. The walkers won't leave us alone with him bleeding all over the floor the way he is, and to go out there would be suicide. "It can't be much longer, now."

"I'm—," Dad sighs. "I ain't talkin' about the walkers, T. You know I ain't."

He nods his head in jerky movements.

"I-I know," He says.

"I'on think they're gonna find us before it matters." His way of saying, Before you turn. "I— I can't have you in here with Harley."

When T-Dog doesn't have anything to say in reply, Dad forces himself to continue. "So... I got a bullet or a bolt. That's where we're at."

"No." He adjusts himself against the wall, lifting his head to look him in the eye. "I don't want you to."

"I know," He placates. "I'm sor—"

"I'mma do it myself," He says matter-of-factly. "I'm a man of God. It might be a sin to take myself out, but I'll be damned if I fought this hard and got this far, only to let another man kill me. Even if he's my brother. So, I'm doin' this on my own terms. It has to be me."

Stomaching his words, my Dad slowly nods to himself, before he sends me a sympathetic look.

T-Dog bides his time for a couple more hours by telling us what must be every story he has, but it's after he throws up into the corner of the room that it becomes obvious to us that we just can't afford to wait any longer for the group to find us.

"We ain't gonna be sappy about this," T-Dog warns us as he sits back down, wiping his mouth.

"C'mon. You're one'a the sappiest bastards I know," Dad deadpans. "And I know a lotta sappy bastards."

"I guess I just always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, if I had to."

"You don't want yer last moments to be with us?"

Coughing up a laugh, T-Dog jokes, "I didn't say that."

I almost want to ask him to wait just one more minute — That's not a long time. He could do it — and after that minute passes, I'd ask him again. I know it wouldn't save his life if the group found us right now, but I wouldn't be asking for them, or even for him. I'd be asking for myself. Selfishly, I want just one more minute with him. What if—? What if he didn't get any sicker? What if he turns out fine?

It's a question only a fool would ask, and I know all I can do now is appreciate all the thousands of minutes he had before this.

"Okay," He sighs, reaching behind him, pulling out his gun and resting it in his lap, staring down at it. "This is it."

It ain't how my Momma did it, but it's just as awful.

"We could still wait," My Dad suggests, giving him an out I know he won't take. "If they find us, they find us. If they don't—..."

"You heard me, man. Blaze of glory." He looks up at us, his sweaty fingers gently curled around the gun. For the first time since the door closed, he meets my gaze, but he just looks tired, like he could use a long, peaceful sleep. "This is gonna be hard. I'm sorry."

I watched Shane die in front of me, watched him bleed much the same way. At least this time, I'll get the chance to close my eyes.

"You're a tough girl," He gulps. "You been through more shit than most."

"Thought'chu said we wasn't gonna be sappy," I complain, just to get him to stop.

"The first time I saw you, I just knew you were gonna be a lil' terror." He continues, anyway. "Dale, too. Said he knew you'd make it."

Dale always did say the darndest things. The only reason I've made it this far is because of other people. I ain't no clueless airhead can't skin no animal or kill no walker, but my beatin' heart can be accredited to a small group of people, one that includes T-Dog. There's been countless times where I should'a died and didn't, and this is one of them times that somebody else shouldn't be dying, but is.

I ain't special. Just because I ain't died yet don't mean everybody else can't still be alive, too. My Dad says, Ain't no such thing as good or bad luck. Just strong people, but T-Dog ain't weak and there is such a thing as bad luck.

"I thought you would, too," I tell him, hoping it's some sorta comfort.

"C'mere," Dad mumbles, helping me climb into his lap and rubbing his big hand between my shoulder blades as I press my brow to his neck, squeezing my eyes shut. He takes out my hearing aids, and after that, I don't open my eyes for the next few hours.

Like this, I can pretend it didn't happen.

But I can still smell the gunpowder in the air.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," My Dad's voice rasps quietly in my ear, "Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

I've never wanted to leave a room more than I want to leave this one in my entire life. If I could, I think I'd claw my way out.

"And if that mockingbird don't sing, Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring."

The singing helps. It don't make the smell any more bearable, but it helps.

"And if that diamond ring turns brass, Daddy's gonna buy you a looking glass."

One more minute, I tell myself just like I wanted to tell T-Dog, one more minute, and then another after that. The others have an entire prison to search for us in, with twists and turns every few feet, dust in the air and walkers lining the corridors, and I can't even guarantee they ain't already dealing with the deaths of any of our other people, but I know they'll refuse to stop until they find us.

I keep replaying the scene of the courtyard in my head, remembering everyone who I saw made it out.

"And if that looking glass gets broke," He sings, "Daddy's gonna buy you a billy goat."

Sometime later, I realize I've managed to block out the sound of the incessant groaning because there's suddenly another noise amongst it all — A grunt too pronounced to come from a walker, then a squelch and a dull thud, like a sack of flour dropping to the floor.

Lifting my head from Dad's shoulder, I look at the door as the groaning becomes lesser and lesser until it disappears.

"They're here. They're here," I say in shock, climbing off Dad's lap just as the door is opened.

"Holy shit," Glenn exclaims as Maggie wraps her arms around me, returning my brutal hug. "You're here."

"We drew them away," She says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Oh, I can't believe it. We searched everywhere for y'all."

It's when she pulls away that I make the mistake of following her and Glenn's gazes into the corner of the room, where T lay exactly where I last saw him, the only difference being that his brains are now plastered against the wall in the shape of a flower.

"Don't look," Dad gently scolds me, turning me back around so I'm facing the door.

She stares at the carnage, her lips slightly parted without knowing what to say, before she has to look away, too. "What happened?"

"He got bit," Dad mutters. It's impossible to recount what we just went through in any poetic way, and the rest, they can guess.

"Horrible," She croaks.

"We can come back for him later," Glenn struggles to say, urging all of us outta the room. "Let's get you two back to the cell block."

"Is everyone okay?" I ask him desperately.

As the door closes on T-Dog, Glenn gazes down at me, his face just as exhausted-looking as Dad's, but with a slight glint in his eyes.

"Everyone's okay," He manages to smile, glancing at Maggie before he adds, "Even the new baby."

I look up at my Dad, his shock mirroring mine. "Lori had her baby?"

And that right there is good luck.

Glenn steps over a body. "Come on."

Author's Note.

In exchange for T-Dog's especially intense death, Lori lives.

I went over SO many iterations for this chapter after receiving a comment suggesting I consider letting Lori and T-Dog live, and honestly, this version was the most suitable one. I decided the other versions were either just too indulgent or didn't fit with the story, but I liked them, too 😭

Thank you to ermynee, because without them/you, Lori would also be dead right now!

I hated doing that to T-Dog, but I thought it would make for an interesting non-canon scene and wanted to balance out the fact that Lori lives. You'll see also that Carol doesn't get lost, so the whole 'getting stuck and being found' situation was given to these guys instead. RIP T-Dog.

Thank you for reading. Always appreciate you! 💙

@poetoflawed

[stealingyourbones]

Half-Life anon again. Im so glad you already played portal, that would definitely be next on the list!! DOOM is *also* so so good, between it and HL, it's probably the bigger adrenaline rush, and, at least as far as the classic game go, probably far less mechanically complex than HL! If you want the Full Lore for the classic games (1, 2, and 64) be sure to look up the manuals first, since they do the whole "setting up the story in the manual" thing before just dropping you right into the game.

Modern DOOM (2016 and Eternal) has absolutely nuts gameplay that makes you feel like a total badass no matter what difficulty you play on, and lore is all in the games ok, but... well. You'd be hard pressed to find a fan who doesn't think the story is a hot mess of a dumpster fire (including the ones who like or at least don't mind it, such as myself.) Especially Eternal's dlc has a very "but what ACTUALLY happened was [absolutely bs stupid rule-of-cool lore drop that makes no sense]" feel to it. The current lead writer keeps changing and adding lore three years after the fact, and most of us have decided by now that he's full of shit. But hey! You're a DC comics fan, I'm sure you know what that's like! The games are still good and I still love them anyway.

DOOM 3 is... sort of its own thing, in a weird limbo state. It's not really part of the same continuity as the rest of the games, and it leans a bit more heavily on the horror and suspense themes than the "you're not stuck with them, they're stuck with YOU" theme of the other games, so dont go into it expecting the same feel. It doesn't run quite as fluid as the other games, but it's the first true 3D game, as opposed to the classic 2.5D.

Anyway! That is all for now (again) but if you keep talking about these games, I will happily keep infodumping to you as long as you'll let me. :3

!!! Dude I’m so fuckin down for u to continue infodumping!

Good to know that the 2016 Doom’s storyline is a bit wild. As long as I can throw hands with demons I don’t mind >:D

Both Doom 1 and 2 are so fun dude!!! I also played My House.wad because it sounded cool and oh boy was it cool!!!! House of Leaves is on my reading list so I’m interested to see how the feller that made the .wad was inspired by it.

[ruthie-ouo]

Various Rohan Kishibe Headcanons because its 23:47 on a Thursday night and I got nothing better to do :]

✒ Hes the type of person to penguin pebble. He sees anything that reminds you of him, a rock, a shell, hell even a leaf, better believe you will have it in your palm in a matter of minutes. Sometimes he even brings you random snacks and blankets. Just because he thinks "Hm. ____ likes [Insert literally any category]. They'll LOVE this! Yoink."

✒ If you are close enough with him (best friend, s/o, etc), a great way of bonding with him is literally sitting next to each other in silence. You don't even have to be doing the same thing. It's a great way to spend quality time on a day off.

✒ Fight me on this, but he definitely walks with the t-rex idle arms.

✒ Rohan is the type of person to hyperfocus, which can unintentionally lead to self-neglect. There are times he'll work for hours, and when he's finally coming down and losing focus, his throat is sticking to itself from thirst, stomach twisting in hunger, head pounding from exhaustion and dehydration, and back and wrist sore from overwork and poor posture.

✒ To add to the poor posture, he most likely picked up exercise as a way to try to counteract his developing body aches and stress. He probably has developed carpal tunnel at some point.

✒ Honestly, with the small things I noticed (disregard of personal space and social cues, hyperfixation on his work, seemingly general externalized apathy for other people's problems, struggling with making/keeping friends, etc) I wholeheartedly, as an audhd feller, believe he may have autism and/or ADHD.

✒ Another fight me; He definitely keeps post-its with reminders because he WILL forget if he doesn't. Fuck planners he loses those so fast you can't even count to 1.

✒ I'll say it if nobody else will, he sucks at expressing affection. He's a dork who needs to learn it better. And not just for his work.

✒ If you're someone he cares about, he will support your interests! He may ask many odd questions about it, or maybe even stay unaware, but if you talk about it, he'll listen, and maybe even jot down random notes about the interests!

Anyway that's all for now, I suppose. If you have any other characters you'd like headcanons for, shoot me an ask! ^^ stay hydrated guys!

[masonuf]

Post for 2/28

As a big fan of swordsmen in Japanese media, I was delighted to read today’s section of Kojiki. Yamato Takeru had no business being that ruthless against his opponents.

“After he had finished saying this, the prince (Yamato) killed him, slicing him up like a ripe melon.” This quote must’ve gone hard back in 130 C.E.

Anyway, I couldn’t help but notice how many mythological titles had inspired names I have seen in anime and manga. Namely, in Naruto, certain people and things are named Amaterasu, Susano’o, Izanagi, Izanami, Kusanagi, and more. When I read that Yamato had received the sword Kusanagi, I was questioning where I had heard that name before. After searching it up, I realized that it was also the name of Sasuke’s sword. This practice of naming things in media after mythological names is fascinating to me. On one hand, “Kusanagi” sounds like a cool name if you’re unfamiliar with Japanese, but if you know that it translates to “Grass Feller,” then it loses a bit of its appeal, to be honest. Similarly, I wonder if Japanese media consumers ever get tired of seeing things named after elements in Japanese mythology. The same name probably gets used as a character’s name in some show, and as a character’s sword’s name in some other show, and as a character’s dog’s name in yet another show.

Today’s volume of Phoenix by Tezuka was, once again, an enjoyable read. I loved Tezuka’s use of visually repeating patterns in this volume. Something about them was just so appealing to see, especially the panel featuring swirling lines, flowers, and music notes. Sorry for taking up so much space on your screen by putting 2 images below. I didn’t know which one to keep, so I just kept both of them.

Images from Phoenix by Tezuka.

[alwek]

Week: Fuck Banks

I am absolutely atrocious with money. Just completely bum fuck stupid. Sincerely garbage. 100% pure bred lean ass juciy idiot with the monetary applications of society.

What the fuck is credit anyway? A fucking scam, that's what. Same as insurance. At least for cars, anyhow.

Like, y'all know that meme with the couple and jesus that goes 'i consent, i consent. I dont' with jesus saying i dont, captioned isn't there someone you forgot to ask?

Well imagine that meme but the couple is a buyer and a seller and jesus is the bank. Why the fuck can I have all the money I need to pay for something, be in agreement with the person selling the thing to do the trade, but then the bank can come in and day "nuh-uh-uh. We say you can't do that"

For what fucking reason? Why does a third party with alterior interest allowed to dictate what we can and can not do with our money? With our lives? What gives them the FUCKING right? Because they said so? Bullshit

Why do banks even have control over money anyway? Isn't money a government provided service of currency for citizens and visitors to be able to efficiently partake in trade? Why don't they have control over their own thing? Why aren't banks a tax funded institutional system provided and controlled by the government of a people as to not let people with profit motives control the actual fucking lives of literally the entire God Damned FUCKING WORLD?!?!?!

Who let this shit happen? Who do we need to fucking kill to stop it? Profit motives should not be able to control the three basic human rights.

EVERYONE deserves a roof over their head, food in their mouth, and water in their cup. Full stop. That's it. The basic necessities of literally staying alive should be provided.

But the bank says no. The bank says your house that you paid for and own? That's mine now. Why? Because I said so, fuck you, don't ask questions just go assisted suicide yourself about it.

It's fucked! But hey, that's capitalism. The most perfect and wondeful societal system that has ever exist and hey hey hey wait don't go look at capitalist history and all the things we've done to sabotage the functionality of countries that tried anything different. No, WE are absolutely perfect now spend all your money at my business please. Oh and also don't ask why business essentially control the world its for the best intrest of everyone. That's why we strike down and skirt safty laws at every given opportunity, it's because capitalism breeds innovation, definitely not monopoly. The most successful people are fellers that made it all their own and NOT because they "own" half of all the companies that exist in the world. Don't ask so many questions to me. Just give- er I mean spend your money at that business over there that I am DEFINITELY not affiliated with.

Power in anger. Victory in wisdom.

[bugsmoocher]

alright i cant stand aside and let this happen. i will be discussing this as though it is a surprise hand to hand combat scenario where these boys are doin nothin but getting their hands all up over one another.

the burning question i will begin with:

SHOULD TINKER BE ALLOWED HIS MECH?

my answer: should colonel be allowed a fighter jet? fuck no. but for the sake of tinker not getting used to wipe greasy ass like he's gas station toilet paper, i will say YES. he is allowed his mech. specifically that of treasure trove. why? i have confidence in the colonel for these reasons:

he's experienced!

shovel knight destroyed the mech on multiple occasions with a *shovel*. a SHOVEL. in terms of improvisational weapons, i believe the colonel's cane will do.

the mech does not protect tinker from blows, obviously. so, utilizing the ways shovel knight is capable of reaching the top of the mech, i believe colonel could do the same by either A) jumping up his torpedos or B) cane pogoing up to the cockpit off of them big balls. and brother, if theres one thing the king of fried chicken knows, its how to rough up a pit of cock.

now, another thing i will point out is that baz is a fucking loser. colonel has earned the title colonel. even people outside of the order can defeat baz and do so regularly. ok? ok. anyways,

ok, take my hand, let's picture all the possible ways that these two could encounter. spoiler alert, there's only really two ways it could happen.

colonel wanders into tink's workshop somehow

tink encounters him outside of the clockwork tower

only one of these would involve the mech. there are no instances of tinker taking his mechs out for casual strolls, though i will admit it is possible, but what i think is more likely is that colonel and tinker would encounter in another way: both on foot. at least in the second scenario i listed.

tinker's fighting style isn't even a fighting style, let's be honest. its a panic style. colonel could pick that little man up and punt him like a football, if he wanted to. the wrenches are not hard to dodge. even then, they'd only hurt. i can only foresee tinker being quickly incapacitated. as for the first scenario listed, i've already covered how colonel would march his happy kentucky fried ass up there and go to town on that lil feller.

ok im really tired because i just got off of work and im kind of hungry so im going to go eat now but all in all colonel would win especially in a fair fight ok ?

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary ‘21 - Week Four: Future

So, do y’all remember a while back, when I asked for scenes from the Stanley McGucket AU that you wanted to see but I didn’t write?  Well, that’s because I had decided to choose that OG AU as my AU for this week, but was struggling to come up with how to handle the prompt.

Luckily, I managed to come up with an idea for it that I hope will bring the feels.  The first part takes place at some point in the “Stan Pines, Farmhand” sequel to “Stanley McGucket”, while the second part (which was inspired by the sub-theme of “Epilogue”) takes place immediately after the last chapter.

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              The pickup truck came to a stop.

              “I’ve got some chores to finish up,” Pa McGucket said.  His voice was thick with emotion.  At the airport earlier, he had put on a brave face, but once Angie’s plane took off, he immediately burst into tears.

              Can’t really blame him.  I felt the same way.  Pa McGucket got out of the truck and headed for the barn.  Ma McGucket, sniffling softly, exited the truck as well.  With a sigh, Stan got out and followed Ma McGucket inside.  Ma McGucket promptly disappeared into the kitchen.  The clattering of pots and pans soon sounded.  Stan had figured out early on that Ma McGucket liked to bake when she was upset or stressed.  Hope she’s making cookies this time.

              Stan trudged down the hall sadly.  He came to the stairs that led to the second floor. After a moment, he began to climb them. The carpeting muffled his footsteps. He walked to Angie’s bedroom.  The door was slightly ajar.  He pushed it open the rest of the way.  The room looked as it normally did.  The bed was neatly made, books organized in a particular manner on the bookshelf, tchotchkes artfully placed on the dresser. Even the floor had been recently vacuumed.  Despite everything being in place, it felt wrong without Angie, scolding Stan for peeking into her room.

              Well, looks like we’re back to the house being empty.  While Angie and her siblings had been visiting for winter break, the house had felt full and happy, like when Stan first moved in.  But gradually, each sibling went back to school or their home, until Angie, whose spring semester started the latest, was the last one.  She’s so energetic and loud, I could barely tell she was the only one here.

              Stan stared at the empty room for a few more moments before sighing and closing the door.  The sound of Ma McGucket’s new stand mixer – a group Christmas gift from Angie, Lute, and Stan – carried to the second floor.  However, the radio kept in the kitchen hadn’t been turned on. Curious, Stan went back downstairs and into the kitchen just as Ma McGucket turned off her stand mixer.  Ma McGucket looked up.

              “I ain’t even put it in the oven yet, how’d ya know I was bakin’?” she asked.  Her eyes shone in a way that suggested she was holding back tears, but other than that, she showed no signs of sadness.

              She’s always been better at hiding her emotions than Mearl.

              “You bake when yer upset,” Stan said.  Sally pointed a wooden spoon at him.

              “Watch what ya say, Stanley.”

              “I’m just tellin’ the truth.”

              “Hmph.”  Ma McGucket crossed her arms.  “I’m beginnin’ to regret makin’ yer fav’rite.”

              “Chocolate chip cookies?”

              “Yep.  But I could easily change it to be raisins instead,” Ma McGucket said, raising an eyebrow. Stan held up his hands in surrender, eliciting a smile from her.  The smile quickly faded, however, as she searched his face.  “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

              “No, it, uh, it’s just weird havin’ the house be quiet and empty again.”

              “Yes, it certainly is,” Ma McGucket said softly. She dumped chocolate chips into the mixing bowl and stirred.  “But I don’t think that’s the only reason yer lookin’ down in the dumps.”

              “I…”  Stan trailed off.  Ma McGucket set the wooden spoon down.  She walked over to the kitchen table and sat.

              “Sit ‘n chat with me, Stan,” she said, patting the chair next to her.  Stan sat next to Ma McGucket.  She fixed her brilliant blue eyes, the same as Angie’s, on him.  “What’s goin’ on, son?”  Stan looked down at the table.  He idly traced the scratches in the wood, which he had been told Harper made shortly after getting his first pocketknife.  “Stanley, talk to me.”

              “What am I s’pposed to do, Sally?” Stan asked finally.

              “Yer goin’ to need to be more specific.”

              “I just-”  Stan sighed.  “All yer kids went off to college.  All the friends I made in school are at college.  Ford’s at college.  It feels weird bein’ the only one still at home.”  His volume dropped sharply.  “But, I guess I can’t really do anything else but stay at home.”

              “Ah.”  Ma McGucket leaned back in her chair.  “This isn’t just ‘bout secondary education.  This is ‘bout yer future.”

              “Well, yeah,” Stan mumbled.  He continued to resolutely avoid eye contact.  “I don’t know what I’m s’pposed to do now.  Can’t have a future if I don’t have a plan fer it.”

              “Now, that just ain’t true,” Ma McGucket said sharply.  Stan looked up in shock.  “I was older ‘n ya when I fin’lly figured out what my future was goin’ to look like. And plannin’ didn’t have anything to do with it.  Heck, the day I realized what my future was, that was the day I threw out the plan I’d had since I was a kid.”

              “Whattaya mean?”

              “To be fair, the plan weren’t really mine. It was my parents’.  From birth, they planned on me gettin’ a law degree and then settlin’ down with some high society feller that they would choose fer me. But then the plan went off the tracks when I met Mearl at college.  I started thinkin’ that maybe I didn’t want to do what I had always been told I would.

              “My relationship with Mearl got serious. Serious enough that I decided to finally tell my folks ‘bout it.  They…didn’t take it well.  They told me, in no uncertain terms, that they wouldn’t support my relationship with a poor farmer who barely graduated high school.  That day, I came to my crossroads.”

              “Crossroads?” Stan asked.  Ma McGucket leaned in, her eyes warm and wise.

              “Everyone walks their own path.  Ya come across a lot of opportunities to go a dif’rent direction, but they’re optional, where ya can stay the course instead of go somewhere else.  Most of the time, those optional routes ain’t that far from yer original path anyways. But in every path, there’s a crossroads. A moment where the road ‘fore ya fully diverges.  Ya can’t keep goin’ the same way anymore.  Ya have to make a choice.

              “When I came to my crossroads, I saw two futures ahead of me.  In one, I did what my parents wanted.  I would continue to live a high-society, comfortable life where I didn’t want fer anything.  But I wouldn’t be happy.  I wouldn’t be fulfilled.  In the other, I stayed with Mearl, and let my fam’ly disown me.  Money would be tight, I would have to work harder than I ever had just to get by.  But I’d be with the person I loved.”  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, you told me before that ya gave up yer cushy life to marry Mearl.”

              “Only partially,” Ma McGucket said softly.  “I didn’t just leave my fam’ly fer Mearl.  I left ‘em fer myself.  When they told me I couldn’t stay with him, that I would have to be with one of the suitors they already had lined up fer me, everything came crashin’ down.  It was like I had been in a fog my whole life, only fer it to suddenly disperse, revealing everything I couldn’t see before.  I saw just how much I had been under their thumb, under their control.  I saw my future clearer ‘n ever ‘fore.  And I saw the crossroads up ahead.

              “I knew that if I left my fam’ly fer Mearl, there was a chance Mearl ‘n I wouldn’t stay together anyways.  But even if we broke up, I would still be free.  I’d say that it weren’t a choice at all, with how easy it was fer me to make it.  But that would be minimizing its importance.”  Ma McGucket met Stan’s eyes squarely.  “I chose my path.  I walked down it.  I never looked back.”

              “Why…why did you tell me that?” Stan asked, feeling slightly numb from the intensity of Ma McGucket’s story.

              “Because one day, you’ll come to yer crossroads. You’ll see yer future ‘fore ya and have to make a choice.”

              “But what am I s’pposed to do until then?” Stan demanded.  He could feel frustration growing.

              Just give me a straight answer!

              “What do ya want to do?” Ma McGucket asked.

              “I don’t know!” Stan raged.  “That’s the whole point, it-”  Ma McGucket held up a hand, silencing him.

              “Are ya happy ‘n healthy now?” she asked.  “Are ya content in yer life?”  Stan opened his mouth.  “Don’t give me whatever answer ya think I want to hear.  Give me the truth.”  Stan closed his mouth and stared down at the table again, the gears in his head furiously turning.  After a moment, he nodded.

              “Yeah.  I am.”

              “Then there’s no reason to change things, is there?” Ma McGucket said simply.  “You’ll know what you want someday.  You’ll see your future ahead of ya.  But until then…”  She placed her hand over his, smiling.  “Just stay the course until ya come to yer own crossroads.”

-----

              Finally, soft snoring sounded from the passenger’s seat. Stan glanced over.

              It’s about time Ford fell asleep.  Ford’s face was smushed against the window, his glasses askew.  His snoring almost harmonized with the snoring coming from the back seat.  Speaking of…  Stan looked in the rearview mirror.  He smiled.  The source of the snoring, as he’d expected, was Emily.  Even though she was much bigger than Angie now, she still had defaulted to resting her head on her mother’s shoulder while sleeping.  To his surprise, Angie was asleep as well.  Or is she?

              “Ang?” Stan asked quietly.

              “Shh, I don’t want yer pomegranates,” Angie mumbled. Stan chuckled.

              Yep.  She’s asleep.  He turned his attention back to the road.  With no conversation to hold his focus and the radio stations fading in and out, Stan’s mind wandered.  Eventually, it settled onto the day Angie had left for college, decades ago.  The conversation he’d had with Ma McGucket about his future.

              “Just stay the course until ya come to yer own crossroads.”

              “Never did find those crossroads, Sally,” Stan said out loud.

              Unless…

              Another memory resurfaced.  Sitting on the side of the road, his back pressed against a tire, gravel prodding his legs through his worn jeans.  A man walking over, crouching down, watching him with an expression so fatherly it felt foreign.  An offer.

              “We're lookin' fer a new farmhand.  We're gettin' on in years, and our kids are gone most of the time.  They can't help out as much as they used to.”

              “What are you saying?”

              “I'm sayin' that if ya want a job, a nice bed, and three square meals a day, we can give that to ya.”

              “What's the catch?”

              “Only that ya work hard.”

              “…Okay.”

              The beginnings of tears pricked the corners of Stan’s eyes at the memory of Pa McGucket’s kindness and warmth.  Ever since he had passed away, remembering Mearl made Stan wistful, no matter how positive the memory was.  Stan hurriedly wiped the tears away.  He smiled despite the sudden sadness.

              The only thing he knew about me was my name, and he still took me in.  Stan glanced in the rearview mirror again.  More memories bubbled to the surface.  First meeting the girl that would eventually become his wife, as well as his future brothers-in-law.  Making up with Ford.  Graduating high school.  Getting married.  Becoming a father.  None of that woulda happened if I had turned down Mearl’s offer.  Stan looked back at the highway, his smile broadening.

              Y’know what, Sally?  It happened a long time before we talked about it, but I did reach my own crossroads.

              And I think I made the right choice.

[anboringday]

A Date With Lenny | Part 3

Pairing: Lenny Summers x F!reader/OC

Summary: Lenny and his lover spends some quality time together in Valentine. Head over heels for one another, things get heated between the two rather quickly ;) 

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: NSFW/Explicit

Read on ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Arms linked, Lenny and I sauntered out of the crowded saloon. It was a lively night in Valentine, a constant stream of interested visitors trotted through on horseback. Fellers loitered outside the stores, laughing and chatting boisterously. Penned pigs squealed, stray dogs panted in the heat, and chimes rung as doors opened. The noise and activity of the teeming little town was disorderly and loud, but not unpleasant. In fact, it was quaint. The people here were unfettered, spirited, and unapologetically free.  

Normally, I felt rather small and out of place in the company of strangers, but with Lenny beside me, all my silly fears and insecurities melted away. He escorted me through town in his black brushed cotton vest and matching trousers, his shirt and neckerchief both a pristine white. And god, he looked damn fine too, putting every other man in attendance to shame. Ever so often, the women that crossed our path would stare, sometimes tripping over their own feet as they took in his remarkably handsome face.

But he was all mine, and I made it known to the world by keeping my arm hooked possessively around his. Occasionally rubbing his strong shoulders. Stroking his toned biceps. He’d return the affection by showering my cheeks with tiny, playful kisses as we strolled aimlessly along Valentine’s dirt road. We had no destination in mind, no grand plans, or schedules to keep. We were simply enjoying each other’s company, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Cradling a flask of whiskey to his chest, Lenny took a swig. “See, the saloon wasn’t so bad, right? We ate a full course, top-notch quality meal in absolute peace, undisturbed—no bar fights, and only a few drunken bastards got rowdy and ruined the mood. Usually it’s much worse.”

“We have to keep a low profile,” I muttered. “We’re lucky no one recognized you.”

“Have you forgotten that I am the living embodiment of luck—” He tripped over a rock and tumbled clumsily, landing on his backside with a rough thud.

My heart skipped a beat. “Lenny!” I hovered over him. “Are you okay?”

With the cutest, goofy grin plastered to his face, he patted himself down for injuries. “No broken bones…I’ll live, I reckon.”  

His wide, bright smile was contagious. Holding the hem of my flowy skirt, I crouched to his level and surveyed him briefly. Besides being stricken with a bad case of the giggles, he seemed fine. “Of course, you’ll live. You have an obligation to keep breathing, Mr. Summers, ‘cause I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

“Is that so? I guess you’re stuck with me then…forever!” His arms enclosed around my waist, he tugged me to the ground playfully.

“Get off, you silly man!” With a hastily suppressed snicker, I squirmed about in his warm embrace. “Release me!”

“Nooo, you can’t get rid of me—not ever! You’re all mine. Just submit already, woman!” He attacked my cheeks with a frantic rush of kisses.

I smothered a chuckle from the sensation of his beard stubble brushing against my skin, but once he started tickling my sides, my voice rang up a scale and crackled hysterically. Whenever I tried to pull away, he’d draw me right back in, fragrantly fun, carefree, and mischievous despite the dozens of onlookers in our midst.

I tickled him back, and Lenny’s laughter was so jubilant, pure as the Heavens above, childish even despite his adulthood and masculinity. His mirth was like the summer sun and the stars at the peak of dawn. Whenever I heard it, no matter the time of day or weather, the world brightened.

Breathing in his tantalizing, uniquely familiar scent, I nuzzled my nose against his. “I love you.”

Stiffening abruptly, a rush of red stained his cheeks. His voice lowered, quiet and shy. “Hey, you’re making me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. There’s folks around—I’m not blushing, am I?”

“You are. It’s adorable.” I stood and extended a hand to him. “Now get up outta that dirt, silly.”

“C’mere, Sugar.” With a captivating smile, he lured me down to his level once again. He tipped his chin toward the sky. “Look at the stars, ain’t they pretty?”

Pinpoints of silver peeped in and out of the masses of gray clouds overhead. It was going to rain soon. I wiped the dust from my skirt. “You’re ruining my outfit, handsome.”

“What does it matter? I’m just gonna take it off you anyway.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, cowboy.”

Music blared from the nearby saloon, a live performance it sounded like. There was clapping and cheering, a soulful feminine voice filled the air, blending in elegantly with the strum of stringed instruments.

Lenny’s brows shot up. “You hear that?”

I nodded. “It sounds lovely.”

He tossed his whiskey aside and rose, lifting me along with him. Taking my hand in his, he preformed a courtly bow, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “My lady, may I have this dance?”

“Dance?” My face heated at the proposal. “H-here?”

“Right here, right now.”

Filled with embarrassed discomfort, I lowered my head. “There’s an awful lot of people around, Lenny.”

“Don’t be scared. We’re in this together. Just focus on me, okay?”

Arms encircling my waist, he anchored me against him, swaying to the music. I was tense and on edge at first, I’ve never danced in public. Let alone in the center of town where just about every neighboring feller, woman, loyal steed, and child could take a gander.

But once his hazel gaze found mine, our bustling surroundings melted away. Hypnotized by the shimmering sparks of gold in the depths of his eyes, all I could see was him. The way his lean body glided with effortless rhythm and fluidity. How his muscles flexed and rippled with every slight movement beneath his shirt. Following his gentle motion, my arms slid around his neck. He was my world, and the moment was ours.

“We coulda done this in the saloon, you know,” I said.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I know going to that saloon in particular was my idea, but uh, honestly…I didn’t feel comfortable in there.”

“Why? Did one of those drunkards do something? Say something? I swear, if there are any inbred yokels around here, you just point me in their direction—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Every fella in there was eyeballing you. It ain’t no crime to look but…” His voice trailed off.

I frowned. “I didn’t notice anyone was staring, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for being the prettiest girl in town. You got all the women in the West green with envy and the fellas? They salivate over you like a pack of rabid dogs after a bone. And regardless of all that, you chose me. Feels like a dream. The best damn dream.” He dipped me back and kissed my temple. I held onto him as his full lips drifted to my neck, brushing over my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes on a moan when he caught the lobe of my ear between his teeth, the spontaneity of it all warmed my heart, and awakened a fierce ache between my legs.

With he straightened me, I was near breathless and dizzy. There was an applause, and whistling coming from over my shoulder. Lenny’s grasp on me was strong and clinging, as if I could slip through his fingers at any given moment. “You’re mine, I’m yours, and now everybody knows it.”

I flushed, perversely flattered and delighted by his possessiveness. “You know, this isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘keeping a low profile’,” I whispered.

“So, about that…” He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so cutely at odds with the wiry, solid sexuality of his body. “I ain’t the best at laying low, never have been. Everywhere I go, something or somebody starts kickin’ up a fuss and I get dragged into it. For example, some fool gets robbed—by no fault of mine, might I add—then that same fool gets brave and winds up with a bullet in his gut. And of course, being the law-abiding citizen that I very much am, I got no choice but to intervene.”

I smiled. “So, all this time you’ve been playing the hero? Everything the lawmen said about you was a lie?”

“The law ain’t never been fair or smart.”

“That much is true.” The sky rumbled, and the clouds began to shed some heavy droplets of rain. Folks began to retreat indoors, while a select few preferred to take shelter under the general store awnings.

“Well, there goes our audience,” Lenny said. “A real shame, too. I was getting used to the limelight.” He took off his brown leather cowboy hat and gave it to me. “Here, Sugar. For your hair.”

“Thank you.” I nuzzled my face to his chest. “We should go. The storm is only going to get worse.”

Seemingly unbothered by the rain, he tilted my chin up and settled his mouth on mine. A rush of warmth flowed through me, the soft sweetness of his kiss weakened my knees. Gradually, the pressure of his lips increased, and I surrendered myself to him. His tongue stroked slow and tenderly over mine. Our connection was wildly passionate and undeniable. I was so absorbed by him, possessed by his sweet love, I hardly noticed the drizzle running down our faces to where our lips connected. The cold rain mingled with the uniquely wonderful taste of him.

The working of his mouth against mine made me hot. Restless. I pushed a hand into his gloriously damp hair and sucked on the bottom of his lip, tracing my tongue over its perfect fullness, nibbling, gently pulling…

The sound of his groan was so satisfyingly deep and erotic, my core throbbed, uncomfortably wet. Lenny broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Damn…what are you doing to me?”

I smiled innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gripping my hips, he crushed me to him, the impressive package between his legs brushed my thigh. “I…I-I need to be inside you,” he confessed with some difficulty. “I’m aching.”

Moved by the extent of his longing, I stood on the tip of my toes and reclaimed his lips, my palms sliding all over his lethally sexy body. We were drenched in the chilly, pouring rain, but not even the forces of nature could keep my hands off him. “There’s a hotel next door,” I said between kisses.

Lenny nodded an assent and lifted me off my feet, my legs hooked around his waist. He carried me across the road and through the hotel’s swinging doors. The lobby was empty.

“I’ll be just a minute!” a voice I presumed to be the receptionist called out from down the hall.

Still holding me in his powerful arms, Lenny leaned against the front desk as we made out with reckless abandon. The soul-reaching massage of his lips sent shivers rippling up my spine. Raising my skirt a fraction, his hips started moving, the hard length of his cock grinding sinfully against me through the confides of his pants. Oh, god…a deep hunger stirred inside me. I had to have him—all of him—and it had to be soon. Or else I’d go crazy.

I held onto him for dear life, trembling from the hot, delicious friction. I didn’t care who was watching. I was way past the point of shyness, the primal desire to be fucked by this beautiful outlaw was at the forefront of my mind. It was all that mattered.

My skin burning hot and flustered, I whimpered. “I want you, Lenny.”

Muscles tense and visibly shaking with lust, he uttered huskily, “Fuck, I want—I need you.”

I buried my face in the crook of his corded neck, ravaging his skin with love bites and licks. “How bad do you need me?”

“Real bad. More than anything. I’ll beg if I got to. I’ll plead. I’ll get on my damn knees right now.” He swallowed deep, his expression tight and eyes smoldering. “If we don’t get a key soon, I might just bend you over this desk and fuck you right here.”

I trembled. It sounded like a threat as much as a promise, the scorching intensity of his words so unlike him. He was losing his composure, the desire stripping away his inhibitions and calm, sweet-tempered mannerisms. Only I could do this to him. It was a major turn-on and confidence boost.

“Here I am!” the receptionist finally arrived, scrambling into his rightful place behind the desk. His presence was a blur, I was too preoccupied enjoying the softness of Lenny’s lips. I could probably come like this, just by kissing him if we went at it long enough.

“Good Lord Almighty!” the receptionist gaped at us. “You kids need a room immediately! Luckily for you, we have one available. Just one. It’s been a big night for tourism, with that band of fancy folk from Saint Denis parading through town, playing their music and causing a ruckus. I don’t understand how anyone can get anything done with all that darn noise and commotion—”

Lenny shoved a hand into his satchel and flung a couple dollars at the chatty receptionist. It stopped his ranting, thank goodness.

“Second floor, first room on your right.” Once he passed over the key, Lenny whisked me upstairs. Heedless of everything and everyone, our hot, lingering kisses didn’t break as he fumbled with the lock. A moment later, the door opened, and we were inside a dimly lit room bathed in candlelight, rain softly drummed against the windowpanes.

Lenny dropped me on the bed. I reached for his vest and ripped it open, the buttons scattered across the hardwood floor. “Get naked, cowboy.”

He laughed, shrugging out of his shirt and suspenders, and then unbuckling his gun belt. I ran my hand down his chest in awe. His deep brown skin illuminated by the warm, flickering light, he glowed like flames piercing the darkness, radiant with transcendental beauty and mystery. I wanted him so bad, it hurt.

I nuzzled my face against the solid ridges of his damp, god-like abdomen. “Christ, why are you so perfect?”

“Perfect?” He pinched my cheek playfully. “Aw, you really think so? Arthur told me the same thing once, but he was drunk and vomiting in a pig pen outside the saloon when he said it—”

“Lenny…” Grinning, I swatted his hand off my cheek. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Flashing an apologetic smile, he tossed aside the wet hat on my head and helped me out my clothes with gentle finesse. I went for his zipper, freeing his thick cock. My mouth watered. He was rock-hard, and throbbing. I traced the flat of my tongue along the heavy veins coursing his length, slow and worshipfully.  

He fisted my hair, restraining me just before I took him into my mouth. “Nuh-uh, Sugar. That can wait. Lay down.”

My brows raised. Apparently, Lenny was in charge tonight. I obeyed, curious of what he had in store.

The heat and clean, woodsy scent of his body took my breath away once he came down on me. “You’re beautiful.” He plumped one breast in his hand, kissing my neck, his lips grazing back and forth over my tender, flustered skin. I squirmed from the heady sensation. My legs locked around his hips, silently urging him to make love to me already. Near mindless with need, I struggled to find my voice, to formulate words. All that slipped from my throat was tiny, helpless whimpering.

He took himself in his hand and stroked my slick entrance, the soft nudges of his cock head agonizingly teasing. I arched my hips, my body straining toward him, desperate for a connection. He was making me wait, avoiding my clit and somehow resisting the temptation of fucking me despite my pleading.

“Lenny, please. What are you waiting for?”

“Hush now,” he said. “You’ll be ready for me soon.”

“I’ve been ready for you for the longest. Since this morning.”

He nipped my neck, sucking feverishly. Surely leaving a mark behind. Inflamed and trembling in distress, I rolled my hips against the rigid column of flesh he so cruelly teased me with. Patiently, he coaxed me to the brink of insanity. I was soaked in my own wetness, creaming madly for the feel of him inside me.

Raking my nails across his back, I pulled him closer. I needed him to fuck me more than I needed my next breath. “Now,” I gasped. “Need you now.”

With an expert shift of his hips, he pushed into me hard, and so pleasantly deep.

“Oh, God, yes,” I moaned, shuddering, clenching around him. Finally. Warmth struck my heart. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, too long—

“Don’t come,” he murmured, his palms slipped under my hips and cupped my behind, squeezing.

“Excuse me?” I was so close to the edge already. How the hell did he expect me not to go off?

“Good things come to those who wait. It feels so much better in the end.” Lenny started to move, his thrusts lazy and tortuously slow. “Can you do that for me, Sugar? Can you make it last?”

The cadence of his soft-spoken, drawling words sounded so sweet in my ears, so delicate. A fierce ache struck my chest. I was hopelessly in love with him, and more than willing to submit to his every need and request.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, my vision blurred with tears. “You have no idea how good you feel inside me.”

“Trust me, I-I do.” Lenny’s leisurely rhythm came to an abrupt halt, his body shivered violently. Jaw clenched, a groan slipped through his lips, tension contorted the gorgeous features of his face. Holding back seemed to be affecting him as well.

Quickly regaining his poise, he resumed screwing me. Lenny knew my body so well, all the tender spots that demanded attention and how precisely to stroke them. It was all muscle memory to him at this point. Over and over, his cock rubbed the bundle of quivering nerves clenching, aching for his touch.

Gripping the sheets with white-knuckled force, I smothered an upsurge of sobs, thrashing against the overwhelming need to climax. I was burning from the inside out, our bodies sticky with sweat. Trembling uncontrollably, I couldn’t hold back for much longer…

“Don’t come,” Lenny repeated. “Make this last. Just hold on.”

“I c-can’t. It feels amazing. Jesus, Lenny…” Tears escaped my eyes. I was falling apart, utterly and irreversibly lost in him. “I love you. I-I love you so, so much…”

He kissed away the tear tracks on my face. “Hold me. Don’t you let go.”

I released the covers and clung to him. His heavy-lidded gaze snagged with mine, searing into me. He sighed heavily, from pleasure, tension, or both—I couldn’t tell. His hips still surging at a moderate, deliberately restrained tempo that was driving senseless, I blurted, “Slow down. Please. I’ll come if you don’t slow down.”

“Will you now?” A wicked smile pulled at his lips. “I thought you wanted to come, Sugar. Why the change of heart?”

My back arched as his hold on my behind grew bruising. He lifted my hips into his thrusts, and I cried out, my core boiling and tightening with a pressure so severe, I feared I’d snap in two if I didn’t give into my bodily cravings soon.

“I won’t come,” I panted. “Not—not until y-you say so.”

His hazel eyes softened, sympathetic almost as he watched me quiver helplessly beneath him. One hand clasping the side of my face, he kissed me with a heartrending tenderness, his tongue caressing mine. Yes.

“Come for me,” he fucked me harder, dominating my body, although his voice was honeysweet against my lips. “I need to feel you…”

With his permission, an orgasm erupted inside me like a volcano, molten pleasure spreading from my core and overcoming the entirety of my body in a scorching wave. It was remarkable. Explosive. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I let out a shrill cry, writhing under Lenny’s sweat-slick muscles. His name spewed repeatedly from my lips as he fucked me into blissful oblivion.

The climax surged on and on. I was melting, drowning in the immense ecstasy of being loved by him, pleased by him. He was my everything, and without him I was empty and hollow. I could die in his arms right now and regret not a thing, because I’ve never truly lived a day until I met him.  

The connection we shared was incredibly intense, inside and outside the bedroom. But when we were making love like this, intimately linked, giving and receiving pleasure from one another like our lives depended on it…our bond felt unbreakable. It was frightening how deeply I adored him—an outlaw. A man the law wanted strung up by a noose…

A muscle twitching in his jaw, he rode out my climax until the clenches faded; then he slowed down his pace, burying himself inside me languidly. He sucked in a harsh breath, eyes dark and dilated, his strong body convulsed furiously. He was teetering on the edge of an orgasm, still denying himself the pleasure he’s been working toward all night long. The glaring self-control and perseverance Lenny emanated was something to be envied.

I gathered his hair in my hands, kissing the side of his damp throat. “You’re shaking, handsome. Do I feel that good?”

“Yes,” he rasped, pounding into me erratically, his balls slapping against the curve of my behind. “Oh shit, yes.”

A bead of sweat dripped from his chin onto the corner of my lip. I slid my tongue along his sculpted jawline, collecting the saltiness with a soft murmur of satisfaction. He tasted so good, and the scent of his lust smelled even better.

“Why don’t you come inside me, cowboy?” I teased, my voice husky. “You know you want to.”

He clasped the nape of my neck, his gaze burned into mine. “Do you want me to?”

I had just as much control over his body as he did mine and I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Lenny. Come.”

With a serrated groan, his beautiful cock jerked, spurting hotly, flooding me with his heat. His hips ground against mine, he emptied his load as deeply as he could inside me. I don’t know how long we laid there holding each other, spent and panting. Eventually, our breathing steadied and our bodies cooled.

“Leonard Summers!” a rugged voice shouted from outside, piercing the calm serenity of the rain. “We know you’re in here! Give yourself up, boy, there ain’t nowhere left to run!”

Lenny shot up from the bed.

Still wrapped up in a sex-induced daze, my brain struggled to comprehend what the hell was happening. Lazily, I sat up, covering my exposed breasts with the sheets. “What’s going on?”

Lenny inched to the window and glanced furtively though the blinds. “Lawmen,” he winced. “A lot of ‘em.”

I shivered, my heartbeat sped up. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was, Sugar. Maybe you were right—coming ‘round here was, in fact, a real bad idea.” His teeth gleamed in a lopsided smile, confident and reassuring despite our unfortunate circumstances. “So, uh…you know how to handle a gun, right?”

My eyes widened. Oh no…

[jornthur]

“Unshaken” Chapter IV

Originally posted: March 22, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

(Photo Credit: @hysterialevi​)

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

After a while you started to feel foolish for asking the question, but it was too late. It was out, and you couldn’t take it back. Why in the world did you even ask it? You thought, feeling embarrassed.

As you got closer to the cabin, Arthur still hadn’t said anything, and you were beginning to feel like a total idiot. Unable to take the silence anymore, you turned your head to look over at him.

Arthur was looking down at his feet as he shuffled them across the ground. He was leaning most of his weight on the tall walking stick, trying to keep himself balanced. Was he avoiding the question? Had he even heard you?

“Arthur?”

A small spark of hope shot through you as you thought that there might have been a chance he’d missed what you’d said. Maybe it wasn’t too late, after all, you thought with relief, it was a dumb question, anyways.

But that relief suddenly fled as he looked up at you, and those blue eyes of his sparkled knowingly, a slow grin stretching across his face.

Oh, he’d definitely heard you.

You blushed as you looked away immediately. “I’m sorry, Arthur,” you said, “I mean, not that it bothers me — I just wasn’t sure why … you know … I wasn’t sure why you would be callin’ me that, since we barely know each other and all — “

You heard him let out a soft chuckle, making you blush even harder. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, darlin’,” He said softly, “It’s just cuz of all the honey you’ve been given me, thought it’d be a cute nickname for you.”

Could that damned blush get any hotter? “Oh … alright.” That was all you could say. Was it the answer you were expecting? Was it the truth? Maybe, but you couldn’t be sure.

Finally, you both reached the front porch steps of the cabin, and you turned to face Arthur, “Would you like me to help you up these steps?” You asked, trying to change the subject away from the previous one.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply —

“Y/N!”

Your head whipped around, looking over your shoulder to see Austin waving at you as he rode up towards you on his Bay Roan Ardennes, two large jackrabbits tied to his saddle. “Austin!” you called out. He looked exhausted, his clothes appeared to be messy and even his hair looked out of place, swept in different directions. “How was your trip?”

Austin pulled up right next to you and Arthur and swung off the large horse. He untied the jackrabbits from his saddle and presented them to you with a big grin, holding them both up by their back feet with one hand, “This is what a managed to catch. It ain’t much, I know, but it might last us a few days,” he said, then added “One for me and one for you.”

You looked up at him, baffled at those last words. “What about Arthur?”

Your brother just shrugged, no remorse in his face whatsoever. “If he wants somethin’ to eat he can eat the chicken feed from the stables,” Austin said unapologetically, even though Arthur was standing right next to you. Very well within earshot.

“Austin!” You were completely shocked at his words. Well, not really. But why did Austin insist on being such an asshole to Arthur? What had the man truly ever done to him? You were at your wit’s end.

You were about to say something you would probably later regret when Arthur suddenly reached out his free hand toward Austin.

Your brother visibly flinched slightly, but Arthur just reached over his shoulder and took the carbine repeater from the horse’s saddle.

Oh, God, no, you thought. Please don’t let it end this way. Was he about to kill Austin? Your mind started racing, had your brother been right all along —

Without hesitation, Arthur cocked the gun and swung the rifle through the air with his free hand. He aimed the thing in less than a second, and shot a single round into your raspberry bushes several yards away.

The shot was loud as it rang out in the sky. The Ardennes whinnied in surprise, you’d covered your ears from the loud thunderous crack, and Austin nearly jumped out of his boots.

He glared at Arthur. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’, cowpoke?!”

Arthur gave him a slow grin. “Gettin’ my share, boah,” he said in his low southern drawl, his dark brows drawn down as his blue eyes narrowed at Austin. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

You and Austin were both speechless as Arthur handed the gun over to you. Not knowing how else to react, you took the carbine, and with that Arthur turned to walk in the direction he’d shot the round. Once he approached the raspberry bushes, he crouched down slowly using the walking stick for balance and reached into the bushes with his spare hand.

He pulled out a large, now dead jackrabbit out from underneath the foliage. As he straightened and made his way back over, you squinted just enough to see a nice, clean bullet hole right in its head. Your jaw dropped, your lips parting.

When Arthur finally approached both of you he held the jackrabbit out to Austin. “This good ’nough, feller?” He asked. His voice was harsh, laced with ice, his face having gone completely dark.

Austin just stood there as he gaped at Arthur, his eyes wide, his lips parted in shock. “How — How the hell did you — what the hell?” He stammered.

You were in awe as well. You’d had no idea that Arthur could handle a gun like that, let alone a large one.

“Where on Earth did you learn to shoot like that, Arthur?” You asked. “And how did you even … how did you even know it was there?”

Arthur turned his gaze to you, that face of his softening as a small smile stretched his lips. “Sure was makin’ a lotta noise while it was eatin’ your berries, Y/N.”

Your jaw almost dropped at his answer. Just how good was his hearing? If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn it was almost like he had an eagle’s sense of his surroundings … You looked over at the raspberry bushes, completely stunned, unable to fathom what had just happened.

Who was this man, truly?

“You gonna take this or not, boah?” Arthur’s deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked back over to see Austin reach out a shaky hand to take the jackrabbit from Arthur.

“I’m … I-I…” Austin stuttered, tripping over his words. “I can’t believe … where- how did you learn to shoot like that?”

Arthur just huffed, “Years of practice.” He said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, then he brought his arm up to his mouth and started coughing.

Immediately you forgot everything else except for his health. You handed the carbine over to your brother who took it. Grabbing Arthur’s arm, you urged him toward the cabin. “C’mon, Arthur, you need to lie down.”

Arthur continued to cough even harder as he let you lead him up the steps and through the front door, all the while the fit having taken over. His body must’ve reached its limit, you realized. You sat him down on the large couch and went to grab your supplies, bringing them over to him. You handed him a dry cloth and he accepted it, giving you a grateful smile before coughing into it, his entire body shaking hard.

Quickly you prepped the syringe and cleaned off his inner arm with some alcohol. “Try to stay still, Arthur,” you said softly, rubbing his shoulder with your spare hand to try and get him to relax. As soon as his body settled down for a couple seconds you pushed the needle into his skin, pressing the plunger down until the barrel was completely empty. Pulling it out you patched him up and grabbed the glass of water and two pre-crushed herbs.

“Here, Arthur, I need you to take these, they should help ease your breathing.” You said urgently, holding the herbs and water out to him in each hand.

He stared at what you offered for a few seconds and then took them, placing the herbs in his mouth. He brought the glass up to his lips and drank from it until it was empty. As soon as he finished he closed his eyes and laid down on the couch, resting his head onto the pillow.

You took the empty glass from his hand and placed it on the nightstand. You snatched the thick wool blanket from the end of the couch and laid it back over his body, tucking it underneath him so he was comfortable.

As minutes passed his coughing slowly started to diminish, until finally he was breathing evenly again.

After a little while you reached out and rubbed his shoulder in an effort to ease him. “How are you feeling?”

Arthur opened his eyes and that blue gaze looked at you gratefully. “Much better, honey. Thanks.” Then he closed his eyes again with a low moan.

You smiled and nodded, then stood up to clean and put away the supplies. It would probably be best for him to stay off his feet for the rest of the day, you thought. But at least he got some of what he’d needed. You truly couldn’t blame Arthur for wanting to get out of the cabin, but at the same time you really needed him to take it easy so that his body could continue fighting off the tuberculosis bacteria that was left.

Austin walked into the sitting room and looked down at Arthur, then up at you, “He feelin’ alright?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please don’t bother him. He needs to rest.”

Your brother’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Alright, well … I’ll go ahead and prepare the meat then.” His voice was much softer in tone, as if he were thinking about something.

“You okay, Austin?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

He just smiled and nodded, “Yeah, Y/N, I just … well, it’s nothin’. I’ll be outside workin’ on the game.” With that he turned and walked out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

You looked at the closed door, feeling surprised. It was the first time Austin had been in the same room without throwing any kind of insult or negative statement at Arthur. Was your brother actually starting to change the way he thought about him? Was it because of the gun incident?

Brushing that thought away, you continued cleaning the equipment. Once you were finally finished, you washed your hands and walked back into the sitting room.

You glanced at the honey pot on the nightstand. He needed to take more, you thought, but you would wait until he was awake again.

The cabin was quiet, and you looked over at Arthur, taking in what you saw. He was completely relaxed now, fast asleep, the medicine having gone to work throughout his entire body now. He almost looked like a completely different person, his face no longer hard, those features having gone completely soft.

Letting out a sigh of content, you grabbed a book off the shelf over the fireplace and sat in the spare sitting chair across from the couch. This way you could continue to keep an eye on Arthur for as long as need be.

Later that evening …

You heard a low groan and looked up from the chapter you were reading.

Arthur was moving, his arms and legs twisting underneath the blanket. You closed the book instantly and placed it on the nightstand next to you. Standing up you went over and knelt at his side. You kept your voice in a soft whisper, so as not to disturb him too much, “Arthur?”

Arthur’s dark brows drew down tight as his entire face grimaced. He let out a grunt and opened his eyes. That blue stare looked up and seemed to recognize you. He smiled, “Hey, honey,” he murmured, his deep voice sounding rough.

You returned his smile with one of your own, “You’re awake. How did you sleep?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, scratching his neck, “Ain’t too sure. Think I might’ve slept like a dog.” He sat up slowly and raised his arms up over his head, stretching his entire upper torso. You found yourself unable to help staring briefly at his muscles as his blue shirt splayed tight across them from his movements.  

“So,” you said, interrupting your own thoughts, “would you mind if I listen to your heart?” Okay, that sounded a bit weird, so you added “I need to listen to see if there are any abnormalities.”

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said, his southern drawl hitching slightly as he cracked his neck, “do what you need to do.”

Seriously, his deep voice was going to be the end of you, you thought. Nodding, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope and other tools from your desk and brought them over. Putting on the stethoscope you placed the disk on his chest. Being this close to him felt so strange, and you never managed to get over the warm feeling you got every time,  “Okay, Arthur,” you said, “please take a deep breath for me?”

His chest rose and fell as he took in a large breath and let it out. You listened to his heart for any hiccups, but thankfully there were none. Moving the disk to where his lungs were you listened to each one individually. “More deep breaths, please?”

He obliged as his chest rose and fell again a few more times. His lungs were sounding so much better, you thought, they were taking in and pushing out air with much more ease. There was no doubt that the bacteria was dying off and the tissue was starting to grow back what it could. “Do you feel any pain right now?”

He looked down at you, “Not at the moment,” he said gruffly. He winced. “Just a little bit, sometimes.”

You placed your stethoscope aside, trading it for a tongue depressor. “Say ‘ah’ for me, please?”

Arthur obliged as he parted his lips and let you place the stick on his tongue. You examined the back of his throat, searching closely for anything out of the ordinary. There was a bit of redness in the back, probably an irritation result from the earlier coughing episode, but other than that everything looked good.

“Well, Arthur,” you said as you sat back, placing the tool into the trash bin at the foot of the couch, “Your heart and lungs sound pretty good. There’s a bit of soreness in your throat but that should clear up soon, as long as there are no more fits. I think you’ll be able to start movin’ about again with no problems very soon.”

Arthur rubbed at his chest, clearing his throat as he looked down at his lap. What was he thinking about? You wondered, but there was no time to ponder on that though. You grabbed the honey pot and lifted the lid. You heard Arthur clear his throat and you looked back up at him. “Is something wrong?’

He shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “No, honey.”

You blushed. Turning away so he didn’t see it you snatched the spoon up and handed it and the pot over to him without looking at him. “Here,” you said quickly, “you know what to do.”

You felt him take the pot and spoon from your hands, and you stood up to put away your book, trying to make yourself look busy until the blush was gone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him take the spoonfuls of honey into his mouth. “I still can’t believe this,” he said as he finished up and placed the pot and spoon down, “I still can’t … I really don’t see how I’m still here.”

His tone sounded tortured, you thought sadly. What on Earth had happened to him before you found him?

What kind of life had he led?

That thought brought another, and you suddenly remembered his satchel. “Oh!”

Your sudden outburst made Arthur jerk, looking up at you with surprise. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I just remembered somethin’.” You got up and raced over to your desk in your office, unlocking the bottom drawer.

“What is it?” Arthur called out.

Pulling the satchel out from the drawer and closing it you held the small brown bag up for him to see as you came back over. “My brother found this on one of his huntin’ trips near where we found you … ,” you paused, then added “I saw your name on the first page.”

At his questioning look you quickly added, “I swear I didn’t look any further, Arthur. I was goin’ to respect your privacy. I just — I just wanted to see if it was yours.” You approached the couch and held the satchel out to him.

Arthur stared at it for a long moment until he slowly took it with a shaking hand. Those blue eyes held so much emotion as he stared at it that you couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his mind.

He opened the satchel and pulled out the journal. His breath hitched as he stared at it, running a gentle hand over the front cover. “This … you found this?”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up from the journal, so you said aloud, “My brother did, yes. I kept it locked in my desk for safe-keepin’ until you were feelin’ better.”

He lifted the front cover and flipped through the first page and your eyes widened, unable to help but notice a two-page drawing that looked like some kind of camp. After a minute or two he continued flipping through the pages, his eyes looking more and more pained as he progressed through the journal. You could see words written down on some of them, except you refused to read them out of respect for his privacy. But those drawings. He stopped on some of them and you were absolutely astonished, unable to help but look.

Suddenly he closed the journal and placed it on the nightstand. He bent forward, elbows on his knees. Placing his face in his hands, he started rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He looked almost ruined, completely overwhelmed. His display of emotion almost had you regretting giving him back his satchel, but what else could you have possibly done with it? Maybe you could’ve waited a little longer, but he had the right to know. It was his property, after all.

Several moments passed and he didn’t move, his face still hidden in his hands. After a little while longer you decided to speak, using a gentle tone so that you didn’t aggravate him in any way. “Arthur … I noticed several sketches in there … did you draw those?” You were trying to change the subject in order to draw his mind away from whatever dark place it had gotten sucked into.

He didn’t respond right away, nor did he move at all, his entire body tight for several minutes.

Finally, he brought his hands away, placing them at his sides where he gripped the edges of the couch, his knuckles turning nearly white. He looked down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. “Yes, I drew them,” he said roughly, his voice nearly choking. His eyelids had gone red, his entire face set in a hard line.

“I didn’t mean to see them,” you whispered gently.

“No, you’re alright,” Arthur said in a rough tone, waving his hand through the air as if dismissing your apology. “I’m just thinkin’.”

You nodded and waited, giving him whatever space he needed to work through whatever was running through his head.

After a while he lifted a hand and rubbed hard at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I … just gotta lot on my mind right now.”

You nodded, “I completely understand, Arthur, and I’m sorry if that journal brought back any painful memories. I shouldn’t have given it back so soon while you’re still sick.”

“No,” he interjected, “I’m glad you did.”

Was he really, though? You thought. Whatever was in that journal seemed to be putting him in a lot of mental anguish. You wanted so badly to help him think about something else, so you decided to bring up a lighter subject. “Where did you learn to draw?”

Arthur let out a harsh grunt at your question and shrugged, his heavy voice carrying a slightly bare tone to it, “I just look at what I see and put it on paper,” He scratched at his jaw, “I don’t really see that much in ’em, though.”

You almost gaped at his modesty. “They’re really beautiful, Arthur.”

He didn’t look at you as he just nodded and gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he said under his breath.

You gave a comforting smile, “You have an amazin’ talent, Arthur,” you told him gently, then added “if you ever want to draw somethin’, I have some pencils on my desk. You’re free to use them.” You patted his shoulder as you stood up. “I’m goin’ to go outside for a while and talk to my brother. Will you be alright?”

Arthur still didn’t look at you as he just gave another small nod.

You looked down at him sympathetically. “Alright, I’ll be back soon.” You turned away and walked toward the front door. Reaching it, you looked back over your shoulder at him one more time. His upper body was hunched over once again, his face in his hands.

He was clearly hurting, you knew, but you had no idea what else you could do other than give him some space and time alone. You stepped out and shut the door softly behind you.

Stepping out onto the front porch, the late evening air hit you like a gust of wind. You took a deep breath of it, letting the cool air settle your nerves as you looked around. The evening was quiet, the sun having just disappeared behind the distant mountains in the West. Crickets were chirping as if greeting the night that approached.

Austin was sitting on a stump over near the stream. It looked like he was working on something, but you couldn’t see what it was since he was facing away from you.

Before going over to him, you decided to go to the stables to check on the horses. It was a small building surrounded by fencing to the side of the house. There was just enough room in the fence to let the horses run around whenever they wanted to, about two-and-half acres of wide grass with a few trees spotted here and there. Since the cabin was located in the woods, several trees stood tall both in and around the stables just as well as the cabin. Your brother had cut several of them down a couple years ago in order to allow more room for the horses, but he’d left some up to provide shade for them as well.

You walked into the stables and saw the white Shire and Bay Roan Ardennes in their own stalls. They were both munching on the fresh hay that was no doubt Austin’s doing. You checked on the other animals, looking to see the goats and chickens in their own pens. They were still up and about, wandering around doing their business.

The white Shire lifted her head and came over to you, poking its head out over the stall gate to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey there, Lily,” you said in greeting, turning to face her and reaching a hand up to stroke her muzzle, “How’re you doin’?”

She whinnied softly in response.

You’d had Lily for 10 years, and she absolutely adored you, as you did her. Your father had given her to you for your 20th birthday and you’d named her after your favorite flower, the white lily. It had been the first plant you’d ever grown, with the help of your mother. Lily was absolutely magnificent and extremely loyal, and she’d seen you through many hardships in you life.

And if not for her, you wouldn’t have been able to save Arthur.

Giving her a final pat on her neck, you let out a breath, “Well, girl, I think it’s time to go to bed, don’t you? You rest well.” Lily shook her head up and down as if agreeing with you, then she turned away to resume eating her supper.

You turned to face the Ardennes, “Well, Butch, hope you’re ready for bed, too?” You asked him. He raised his head to look at you, letting out a snort.

Butch was a war horse, built for bravery and strength. Just like Lily, your father had given him to your brother for his own 20th birthday. You were both two years apart, so being 18 you had been slightly jealous of him until you’d gotten Lily. Butch would follow Austin anywhere. The big horse wasn’t really attached to you, but he recognized you as a friend.

You gave a small nod at him. “Alrighty, then. Y’all both have a good night.” You waved to both of them as you walked out of the stables and followed the dirt trail leading toward the small river. On your way you noticed the three skinned jackrabbits hanging off of individual hooks from one of the trees’ low branches. So Austin had finished the butchering job a while ago.

You brother was still sitting on the stump, and from this angle you could barely make out what he was working on. He was cleaning his carbine repeater, running a rag up and down the barrel of the gun.

You walked over to him, “Hey, Austin,” you kept your tone low so as not to startle him.

Austin looked up over his shoulder at you. He smiled and propped the gun against the stump as he stood up. “Hey, sister. Everything alright?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” you answered. “Don’t worry, continue what you were doin’.” You gestured at the repeater.

He shook his head. “Nah, I was just finished anyways. So … ” he reached a hand around his head to rub at the back of his neck. “How’s Arthur?”

Your eyes widened. It was the first time Austin had called Arthur by his name. Before this it had always been ‘cowpoke’ or some kind of other insult. Was your brother finally warming up to him? “He’s a bit troubled right now … I gave him back his satchel, and he saw his journal.”

Austin shook his head, seeming empathetic. “Probably has a lotta memories in there.”

“Austin?”

“Hm?”

You shut your eyes briefly, bracing yourself for his answer to your next question, “Do you still hate him?”

Arthur’s eyes filled with amusement as he smiled, “Maybe a little,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a small laugh as you smiled back in return.

His grin grew wider at your reaction, then he gestured with his hand, pointing at the repeater. “He’s gotta hell of a shot.”

You let out another laugh, “Now you’re complimenting him? Where is Austin and what have you done with him?”

Austin chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong. I still sorta hate that man, especially after showin’ off like that.” He scratched his cheek, a habit you knew he had whenever he got embarrassed about something.

You tsked at him playfully, “You did kinda ask for it, though. I mean, really, Austin. Chicken feed?”

He chuckled, “You’re right, Y/N,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for saying that. It was stupid of me.”

You shook your head, “I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Austin.”

Austin let out a long sigh, seeming exasperated. “Men don’t apologize to each other,” he stated, his voice firm as if what he’d just said was a fact.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“But I guess I can try talkin’ to him sometime.” He added, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try,” you said encouragingly. You reached out and patted his upper arm in an effort to comfort your brother’s silly ego.

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Austin replied, his voice light in tone. “I suppose I should make sure all the animals are settled in for the night.” He turned around, picked up his gun, and started heading over to the stables.

You smiled to yourself. Your brother seemed to finally be coming around. Even though he wouldn’t outwardly admit it, you could tell he was starting to like Arthur.

Funny how guns could bring men together sometimes, you thought with a small smile.

•••••

– To Be Continued

[slash-em-up]

Our Violent Histories: A Logger Fic

1943

The wet dirt was cold and deep as Ben’s face was pushed into the muck. He struggled as much as he was able; but the boot pressing against his head was relentless.

As he gasped for breath he could vaguely hear Sam screaming at the German soldiers surrounding them

“Make him stop! He’s just a kid for Christ’s sake - Get the fuck away from him!!”

Ben couldn’t muster up the will to care that Sam was yelling out his biggest secret for everyone to hear - they’d all be dead soon anyway.

He might have been crying; he couldn’t tell. All his brain was able to process at that moment was the pain in his face where the soldier had smacked him with the butt of his rifle, the struggle to hold his head just high enough to keep from drowning in six inches of blood and mud and shit… and disappointment.

He should have known it would end this way.

“Wenn er ein Kind ist, bin ich der Fuhrer!”

Ben’s father used to say ‘there were no children in wartime’; but God, he didn’t want to die. Not here, not like this…

The pressure against his head lifted as the Nazi crouched next to him, pulling him up by his collar.

“Bist du ein Baby? Huh? How old?”

When Ben’s answer was not forthcoming the man hoisted him to his knees and smacked him harshly across the cheek.

“S-seven-seventeen…”

The man smiled.

“Ahh, siebzehn, ein kleiner Mann…”

The adrenaline coursing through Ben left him feeling nearly numb as the soldier pulled his pistol free of its holster, waving it randomly at the captured Americans.

Their sergeant looked incensed as Ben was once again released to fall back into the mud.

“Come on you rat bastards, pick on someone your own size! Fucking Nazis.”

He spat at the ground in disgust.

A shot rang out.

The sergeant dropped to the ground, dead.

The Nazi laughed at the shocked faces of the soldiers, continuing to saunter around the circle of captives, pointing at random before shouting “BOOM!” and chuckling as they flinched.

Ben felt like his senses had both dulled down to nothing and sharpened to a needle point at the same time. He’d never seen someone die before.

He’d seen dead bodies - found his father hanging from the rafters of their shoebox apartment, stumbled over the corpses of the soldiers who’d come before him along this god forsaken strip of dirt in Tunisia; but never actually watched the life drain out of someone’s eyes.

It was… beautiful, in a morbid kind of way.

A small voice, his own; but somehow different, whispered that he wanted to see it again.

A glint in the wan sunlight caught Ben’s attention.

An intricately decorated hand-axe swung gaudily at the officer’s belt, flashing and glittering like a favorite heirloom.

For all Ben knew it might have been; but foremost in his mind was how easy it would be to reach out and pull it from the Nazi’s belt… So that’s exactly what he did.

The shock on the Nazi officers’ face might have been comical, had Ben been thinking of anything but the sensation of soft flesh and hard bone giving way under the sharpened steel of the small blade. It buried deep into the man’s ribcage, only to be pulled roughly away as the other Germans began to yell and draw their own weapons.

Without thought or care for his own safety, Ben charged at the men, instinctively knowing that in close quarters he’d have the advantage over their long rifles and still holstered pistols.

The sensation of warm blood covering his face and hands was better than the softest fur blanket to the young man, washing away the chill in his bones and igniting an inferno. He wanted more. He’d never felt anything like this. It was like every weakness and doubt and shortcoming he’s ever experienced in his life simply melted away. All that mattered was the blood, and the warmth, and the clarity.

Ben couldn’t say how much time passed as he flew through the group like a whirlwind - there was no finesse or skill to his butchery, just the sheer power behind his movements and the sharp plunge of the axe.

That didn’t matter. The blood came whether he was practiced or not.

Peripherally he was aware that his fellow soldiers had broken free and were fighting alongside him; unfathomably winning the battle after their defeat had already been pronounced.

This too, Ben found, was utterly unimportant.

He may have carried on, moving from adversary to ally in his bloodlust if one lucky Nazi hadn’t had the foresight to pull his pistol instead of his rifle - aiming and firing at the blood-covered axe-wielding American just as his attention shifted to him.

The bullet hit like a freight train, nearly knocking Ben off his feet.

The haze of his frenzy lifted as the German raised his pistol again, seeing the slug to the chest had not dropped the other.

Ben threw himself to the side, but not quick enough to completely avoid the bullet, and he couldn’t contain a cry of pain as the metal entered his leg, dropping him to the ground in agony.

“Fucking monster!!”

The Nazi looked scared as he walked up to Ben, gun still held high.

Ben smiled, teeth bloodstained and chest heaving as his own blood mingled with the deluge on the ground.

“Maybe.” Ben whispered.

A shot rang out.

--------------------------------------------------

Ben jerked awake.

He sat, wide-eyed, staring into the grey dawn light filtering into his bedroom before falling back with a groan, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

That fucking dream. Every time.

An elk bugling in the deep forest brought Ben out of his reverie.

4 AM. He definitely wouldn’t be sleeping any more today.

Rolling to his feet, he made to pull on a shirt; wincing at the sharp pain running down his side where an obstinate feller had rammed into him, throwing punches left and right until Ben had tossed him off.

The bruises were just starting to form along his ribs.

Shuffling to the kitchen Ben lit the small gas stove to heat the percolator - he’d need more than a little bit of coffee to make it through his shift at the bar today.

The air outside was crisp with the first hint of snow as he cracked a window in the room, letting the steam from the pot waft into the frosty morning.

A small heard of deer tip-toed through the edge of the woods, just close enough for the man to see the three spotted fawns trailing after one of the larger does.

Ben loved mornings like these.

A few more inhales of the sweet, cool air and he had nearly forgotten about the memory that continued to haunt his dreams.

That was then. He’d survived. No need to dwell on the past.

The timer for his percolator rung and Ben moved to pour himself a mug of the strong brew, pulling out the iron he’d need to press his work shirt before moving out onto the small wooden porch off the back of the cabin.

He closed his eyes, letting the soft, peaceful noises of the early morning wash over him.

Damn, he hadn’t been able to actually visualize Sam or… fuck, the sergeant, in years.

It seemed like a lifetime ago - back when he’d had someone other than himself to worry about.

He smiled a bit at that, wondering what Rebecca would have thought of Washington, of the bar, of Jo, of how he’d turned out…

If only she’d been able to hang on just a few years longer.

He could have taken her away from the crowded streets of New York, with the constant noise and bustle, to somewhere she could have spent her remaining time in peace.

She probably would have fought him on it. He could almost hear her now:

‘Benji, I’ve lived here for forty years, why would I leave?’

Just as stubborn on her death-bed as she had been when he was a kid…

A gunshot echoed through the trees, sending a jolt of excitement through the tall man.

Ah, hunters. Wonderful.

Grinning, Ben drained the last of his coffee before swiftly pulling his coat off of the rack by the door.

His boots crunched softly through the frosty grass as he walked to his shed, barely having to look in to locate his axe and hoist it over his shoulder.

The deer trails he knew like the back of his hand led him deeper and deeper into the woods, following the sound of the rifle as he sped up into a silent run.

Nothing like a little early morning exercise to get the blood flowing.

Ben loved mornings like these.

[the-mill-kat]

Unshaken Chapter IV

Part 4- Arthur Morgan x Reader (18+, Slow Burn) Posted March 22, 2020

Here it is finally! I hope y’all enjoy it, I’m sorry this one took me so gotdam long! Please ***like/reblog/comment*** to let me know what you think.

(Photo credit: hysterialevi)

You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

After a while you started to feel foolish for asking the question, but it was too late. It was out, and you couldn’t take it back. Why in the world did you even ask it? You thought, feeling embarrassed.

As you got closer to the cabin, Arthur still hadn’t said anything, and you were beginning to feel like a total idiot. Unable to take the silence anymore, you turned your head to look over at him.

Arthur was looking down at his feet as he shuffled them across the ground. He was leaning most of his weight on the tall walking stick, trying to keep himself balanced. Was he avoiding the question? Had he even heard you?

“Arthur?”

A small spark of hope shot through you as you thought that there might have been a chance he’d missed what you’d said. Maybe it wasn’t too late, after all, you thought with relief, it was a dumb question, anyways.

But that relief suddenly fled as he looked up at you, and those blue eyes of his sparkled knowingly, a slow grin stretching across his face.

Oh, he’d definitely heard you.

You blushed as you looked away immediately. “I’m sorry, Arthur,” you said, “I mean, not that it bothers me — I just wasn’t sure why … you know … I wasn’t sure why you would be callin’ me that, since we barely know each other and all — “

You heard him let out a soft chuckle, making you blush even harder. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, darlin’,” He said softly, “It’s just cuz of all the honey you’ve been given me, thought it’d be a cute nickname for you.”

Could that damned blush get any hotter? “Oh … alright.” That was all you could say. Was it the answer you were expecting? Was it the truth? Maybe, but you couldn’t be sure.

Finally, you both reached the front porch steps of the cabin, and you turned to face Arthur, “Would you like me to help you up these steps?” You asked, trying to change the subject away from the previous one.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply —

“Y/N!”

Your head whipped around, looking over your shoulder to see Austin waving at you as he rode up towards you on his Bay Roan Ardennes, two large jackrabbits tied to his saddle. “Austin!” you called out. He looked exhausted, his clothes appeared to be messy and even his hair looked out of place, swept in different directions. “How was your trip?”

Austin pulled up right next to you and Arthur and swung off the large horse. He untied the jackrabbits from his saddle and presented them to you with a big grin, holding them both up by their back feet with one hand, “This is what a managed to catch. It ain’t much, I know, but it might last us a few days,” he said, then added “One for me and one for you.”

You looked up at him, baffled at those last words. “What about Arthur?”

Your brother just shrugged, no remorse in his face whatsoever. “If he wants somethin’ to eat he can eat the chicken feed from the stables,” Austin said unapologetically, even though Arthur was standing right next to you. Very well within earshot.

“Austin!” You were completely shocked at his words. Well, not really. But why did Austin insist on being such an asshole to Arthur? What had the man truly ever done to him? You were at your wit’s end.

You were about to say something you would probably later regret when Arthur suddenly reached out his free hand toward Austin.

Your brother visibly flinched slightly, but Arthur just reached over his shoulder and took the carbine repeater from the horse’s saddle.

Oh, God, no, you thought. Please don’t let it end this way. Was he about to kill Austin? Your mind started racing, had your brother been right all along —

Without hesitation, Arthur cocked the gun and swung the rifle through the air with his free hand. He aimed the thing in less than a second, and shot a single round into your raspberry bushes several yards away.

The shot was loud as it rang out in the sky. The Ardennes whinnied in surprise, you’d covered your ears from the loud thunderous crack, and Austin nearly jumped out of his boots.

He glared at Arthur. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’, cowpoke?!”

Arthur gave him a slow grin. “Gettin’ my share, boah,” he said in his low southern drawl, his dark brows drawn down as his blue eyes narrowed at Austin. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

You and Austin were both speechless as Arthur handed the gun over to you. Not knowing how else to react, you took the carbine, and with that Arthur turned to walk in the direction he’d shot the round. Once he approached the raspberry bushes, he crouched down slowly using the walking stick for balance and reached into the bushes with his spare hand.

He pulled out a large, now dead jackrabbit out from underneath the foliage. As he straightened and made his way back over, you squinted just enough to see a nice, clean bullet hole right in its head. Your jaw dropped, your lips parting.

When Arthur finally approached both of you he held the jackrabbit out to Austin. “This good ’nough, feller?” He asked. His voice was harsh, laced with ice, his face having gone completely dark.

Austin just stood there as he gaped at Arthur, his eyes wide, his lips parted in shock. “How — How the hell did you — what the hell?” He stammered.

You were in awe as well. You’d had no idea that Arthur could handle a gun like that, let alone a large one.

“Where on Earth did you learn to shoot like that, Arthur?” You asked. “And how did you even … how did you even know it was there?”

Arthur turned his gaze to you, that face of his softening as a small smile stretched his lips. “Sure was makin’ a lotta noise while it was eatin’ your berries, Y/N.”

Your jaw almost dropped at his answer. Just how good was his hearing? If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn it was almost like he had an eagle’s sense of his surroundings … You looked over at the raspberry bushes, completely stunned, unable to fathom what had just happened.

Who was this man, truly?

“You gonna take this or not, boah?” Arthur’s deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked back over to see Austin reach out a shaky hand to take the jackrabbit from Arthur.

“I’m … I-I…” Austin stuttered, tripping over his words. “I can’t believe … where- how did you learn to shoot like that?”

Arthur just huffed, “Years of practice.” He said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, then he brought his arm up to his mouth and started coughing.

Immediately you forgot everything else except for his health. You handed the carbine over to your brother who took it. Grabbing Arthur’s arm, you urged him toward the cabin. “C’mon, Arthur, you need to lie down.”

Arthur continued to cough even harder as he let you lead him up the steps and through the front door, all the while the fit having taken over. His body must’ve reached its limit, you realized. You sat him down on the large couch and went to grab your supplies, bringing them over to him. You handed him a dry cloth and he accepted it, giving you a grateful smile before coughing into it, his entire body shaking hard.

Quickly you prepped the syringe and cleaned off his inner arm with some alcohol. “Try to stay still, Arthur,” you said softly, rubbing his shoulder with your spare hand to try and get him to relax. As soon as his body settled down for a couple seconds you pushed the needle into his skin, pressing the plunger down until the barrel was completely empty. Pulling it out you patched him up and grabbed the glass of water and two pre-crushed herbs.

“Here, Arthur, I need you to take these, they should help ease your breathing.” You said urgently, holding the herbs and water out to him in each hand.

He stared at what you offered for a few seconds and then took them, placing the herbs in his mouth. He brought the glass up to his lips and drank from it until it was empty. As soon as he finished he closed his eyes and laid down on the couch, resting his head onto the pillow.

You took the empty glass from his hand and placed it on the nightstand. You snatched the thick wool blanket from the end of the couch and laid it back over his body, tucking it underneath him so he was comfortable.

As minutes passed his coughing slowly started to diminish, until finally he was breathing evenly again.

After a little while you reached out and rubbed his shoulder in an effort to ease him. “How are you feeling?”

Arthur opened his eyes and that blue gaze looked at you gratefully. “Much better, honey. Thanks.” Then he closed his eyes again with a low moan.

You smiled and nodded, then stood up to clean and put away the supplies. It would probably be best for him to stay off his feet for the rest of the day, you thought. But at least he got some of what he’d needed. You truly couldn’t blame Arthur for wanting to get out of the cabin, but at the same time you really needed him to take it easy so that his body could continue fighting off the tuberculosis bacteria that was left.

Austin walked into the sitting room and looked down at Arthur, then up at you, “He feelin’ alright?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please don’t bother him. He needs to rest.”

Your brother’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Alright, well … I’ll go ahead and prepare the meat then.” His voice was much softer in tone, as if he were thinking about something.

“You okay, Austin?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

He just smiled and nodded, “Yeah, Y/N, I just … well, it’s nothin’. I’ll be outside workin’ on the game.” With that he turned and walked out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

You looked at the closed door, feeling surprised. It was the first time Austin had been in the same room without throwing any kind of insult or negative statement at Arthur. Was your brother actually starting to change the way he thought about him? Was it because of the gun incident?

Brushing that thought away, you continued cleaning the equipment. Once you were finally finished, you washed your hands and walked back into the sitting room.

You glanced at the honey pot on the nightstand. He needed to take more, you thought, but you would wait until he was awake again.

The cabin was quiet, and you looked over at Arthur, taking in what you saw. He was completely relaxed now, fast asleep, the medicine having gone to work throughout his entire body now. He almost looked like a completely different person, his face no longer hard, those features having gone completely soft.

Letting out a sigh of content, you grabbed a book off the shelf over the fireplace and sat in the spare sitting chair across from the couch. This way you could continue to keep an eye on Arthur for as long as need be.

Later that evening …

You heard a low groan and looked up from the chapter you were reading.

Arthur was moving, his arms and legs twisting underneath the blanket. You closed the book instantly and placed it on the nightstand next to you. Standing up you went over and knelt at his side. You kept your voice in a soft whisper, so as not to disturb him too much, “Arthur?”

Arthur’s dark brows drew down tight as his entire face grimaced. He let out a grunt and opened his eyes. That blue stare looked up and seemed to recognize you. He smiled, “Hey, honey,” he murmured, his deep voice sounding rough.

You returned his smile with one of your own, ��You’re awake. How did you sleep?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, scratching his neck, “Ain’t too sure. Think I might’ve slept like a dog.” He sat up slowly and raised his arms up over his head, stretching his entire upper torso. You found yourself unable to help staring briefly at his muscles as his blue shirt splayed tight across them from his movements.  

“So,” you said, interrupting your own thoughts, “would you mind if I listen to your heart?” Okay, that sounded a bit weird, so you added “I need to listen to see if there are any abnormalities.”

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said, his southern drawl hitching slightly as he cracked his neck, “do what you need to do.”

Seriously, his deep voice was going to be the end of you, you thought. Nodding, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope and other tools from your desk and brought them over. Putting on the stethoscope you placed the disk on his chest. Being this close to him felt so strange, and you never managed to get over the warm feeling you got every time,  “Okay, Arthur,” you said, “please take a deep breath for me?”

His chest rose and fell as he took in a large breath and let it out. You listened to his heart for any hiccups, but thankfully there were none. Moving the disk to where his lungs were you listened to each one individually. “More deep breaths, please?”

He obliged as his chest rose and fell again a few more times. His lungs were sounding so much better, you thought, they were taking in and pushing out air with much more ease. There was no doubt that the bacteria was dying off and the tissue was starting to grow back what it could. “Do you feel any pain right now?”

He looked down at you, “Not at the moment,” he said gruffly. He winced. “Just a little bit, sometimes.”

You placed your stethoscope aside, trading it for a tongue depressor. “Say ‘ah’ for me, please?”

Arthur obliged as he parted his lips and let you place the stick on his tongue. You examined the back of his throat, searching closely for anything out of the ordinary. There was a bit of redness in the back, probably an irritation result from the earlier coughing episode, but other than that everything looked good.

“Well, Arthur,” you said as you sat back, placing the tool into the trash bin at the foot of the couch, “Your heart and lungs sound pretty good. There’s a bit of soreness in your throat but that should clear up soon, as long as there are no more fits. I think you’ll be able to start movin’ about again with no problems very soon.”

Arthur rubbed at his chest, clearing his throat as he looked down at his lap. What was he thinking about? You wondered, but there was no time to ponder on that though. You grabbed the honey pot and lifted the lid. You heard Arthur clear his throat and you looked back up at him. “Is something wrong?’

He shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “No, honey.”

You blushed. Turning away so he didn’t see it you snatched the spoon up and handed it and the pot over to him without looking at him. “Here,” you said quickly, “you know what to do.”

You felt him take the pot and spoon from your hands, and you stood up to put away your book, trying to make yourself look busy until the blush was gone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him take the spoonfuls of honey into his mouth. “I still can’t believe this,” he said as he finished up and placed the pot and spoon down, “I still can’t … I really don’t see how I’m still here.”

His tone sounded tortured, you thought sadly. What on Earth had happened to him before you found him?

What kind of life had he led?

That thought brought another, and you suddenly remembered his satchel. “Oh!”

Your sudden outburst made Arthur jerk, looking up at you with surprise. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I just remembered somethin’.” You got up and raced over to your desk in your office, unlocking the bottom drawer.

“What is it?” Arthur called out.

Pulling the satchel out from the drawer and closing it you held the small brown bag up for him to see as you came back over. “My brother found this on one of his huntin’ trips near where we found you … ,” you paused, then added “I saw your name on the first page.”

At his questioning look you quickly added, “I swear I didn’t look any further, Arthur. I was goin’ to respect your privacy. I just — I just wanted to see if it was yours.” You approached the couch and held the satchel out to him.

Arthur stared at it for a long moment until he slowly took it with a shaking hand. Those blue eyes held so much emotion as he stared at it that you couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his mind.

He opened the satchel and pulled out the journal. His breath hitched as he stared at it, running a gentle hand over the front cover. “This … you found this?”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up from the journal, so you said aloud, “My brother did, yes. I kept it locked in my desk for safe-keepin’ until you were feelin’ better.”

He lifted the front cover and flipped through the first page and your eyes widened, unable to help but notice a two-page drawing that looked like some kind of camp. After a minute or two he continued flipping through the pages, his eyes looking more and more pained as he progressed through the journal. You could see words written down on some of them, except you refused to read them out of respect for his privacy. But those drawings. He stopped on some of them and you were absolutely astonished, unable to help but look.

Suddenly he closed the journal and placed it on the nightstand. He bent forward, elbows on his knees. Placing his face in his hands, he started rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He looked almost ruined, completely overwhelmed. His display of emotion almost had you regretting giving him back his satchel, but what else could you have possibly done with it? Maybe you could’ve waited a little longer, but he had the right to know. It was his property, after all.

Several moments passed and he didn’t move, his face still hidden in his hands. After a little while longer you decided to speak, using a gentle tone so that you didn’t aggravate him in any way. “Arthur … I noticed several sketches in there … did you draw those?” You were trying to change the subject in order to draw his mind away from whatever dark place it had gotten sucked into.

He didn’t respond right away, nor did he move at all, his entire body tight for several minutes.

Finally, he brought his hands away, placing them at his sides where he gripped the edges of the couch, his knuckles turning nearly white. He looked down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. “Yes, I drew them,” he said roughly, his voice nearly choking. His eyelids had gone red, his entire face set in a hard line.

“I didn’t mean to see them,” you whispered gently.

“No, you’re alright,” Arthur said in a rough tone, waving his hand through the air as if dismissing your apology. “I’m just thinkin’.”

You nodded and waited, giving him whatever space he needed to work through whatever was running through his head.

After a while he lifted a hand and rubbed hard at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I ... just gotta lot on my mind right now.”

You nodded, “I completely understand, Arthur, and I’m sorry if that journal brought back any painful memories. I shouldn’t have given it back so soon while you’re still sick.”

“No,” he interjected, “I’m glad you did.”

Was he really, though? You thought. Whatever was in that journal seemed to be putting him in a lot of mental anguish. You wanted so badly to help him think about something else, so you decided to bring up a lighter subject. “Where did you learn to draw?”

Arthur let out a harsh grunt at your question and shrugged, his heavy voice carrying a slightly bare tone to it, “I just look at what I see and put it on paper,” He scratched at his jaw, “I don’t really see that much in ’em, though.”

You almost gaped at his modesty. “They’re really beautiful, Arthur.”

He didn’t look at you as he just nodded and gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he said under his breath.

You gave a comforting smile, “You have an amazin’ talent, Arthur,” you told him gently, then added “if you ever want to draw somethin’, I have some pencils on my desk. You’re free to use them.” You patted his shoulder as you stood up. “I’m goin’ to go outside for a while and talk to my brother. Will you be alright?”

Arthur still didn’t look at you as he just gave another small nod.

You looked down at him sympathetically. “Alright, I’ll be back soon.” You turned away and walked toward the front door. Reaching it, you looked back over your shoulder at him one more time. His upper body was hunched over once again, his face in his hands.

He was clearly hurting, you knew, but you had no idea what else you could do other than give him some space and time alone. You stepped out and shut the door softly behind you.

Stepping out onto the front porch, the late evening air hit you like a gust of wind. You took a deep breath of it, letting the cool air settle your nerves as you looked around. The evening was quiet, the sun having just disappeared behind the distant mountains in the West. Crickets were chirping as if greeting the night that approached.

Austin was sitting on a stump over near the stream. It looked like he was working on something, but you couldn’t see what it was since he was facing away from you.

Before going over to him, you decided to go to the stables to check on the horses. It was a small building surrounded by fencing to the side of the house. There was just enough room in the fence to let the horses run around whenever they wanted to, about two-and-half acres of wide grass with a few trees spotted here and there. Since the cabin was located in the woods, several trees stood tall both in and around the stables just as well as the cabin. Your brother had cut several of them down a couple years ago in order to allow more room for the horses, but he’d left some up to provide shade for them as well.

You walked into the stables and saw the white Shire and Bay Roan Ardennes in their own stalls. They were both munching on the fresh hay that was no doubt Austin’s doing. You checked on the other animals, looking to see the goats and chickens in their own pens. They were still up and about, wandering around doing their business.

The white Shire lifted her head and came over to you, poking its head out over the stall gate to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey there, Lily,” you said in greeting, turning to face her and reaching a hand up to stroke her muzzle, “How’re you doin’?”

She whinnied softly in response.

You’d had Lily for 10 years, and she absolutely adored you, as you did her. Your father had given her to you for your 20th birthday and you’d named her after your favorite flower, the white lily. It had been the first plant you’d ever grown, with the help of your mother. Lily was absolutely magnificent and extremely loyal, and she’d seen you through many hardships in you life.

And if not for her, you wouldn’t have been able to save Arthur.

Giving her a final pat on her neck, you let out a breath, “Well, girl, I think it’s time to go to bed, don’t you? You rest well.” Lily shook her head up and down as if agreeing with you, then she turned away to resume eating her supper.

You turned to face the Ardennes, “Well, Butch, hope you’re ready for bed, too?” You asked him. He raised his head to look at you, letting out a snort.

Butch was a war horse, built for bravery and strength. Just like Lily, your father had given him to your brother for his own 20th birthday. You were both two years apart, so being 18 you had been slightly jealous of him until you’d gotten Lily. Butch would follow Austin anywhere. The big horse wasn’t really attached to you, but he recognized you as a friend.

You gave a small nod at him. “Alrighty, then. Y’all both have a good night.” You waved to both of them as you walked out of the stables and followed the dirt trail leading toward the small river. On your way you noticed the three skinned jackrabbits hanging off of individual hooks from one of the trees’ low branches. So Austin had finished the butchering job a while ago.

You brother was still sitting on the stump, and from this angle you could barely make out what he was working on. He was cleaning his carbine repeater, running a rag up and down the barrel of the gun.

You walked over to him, “Hey, Austin,” you kept your tone low so as not to startle him.

Austin looked up over his shoulder at you. He smiled and propped the gun against the stump as he stood up. “Hey, sister. Everything alright?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” you answered. “Don’t worry, continue what you were doin’.” You gestured at the repeater.

He shook his head. “Nah, I was just finished anyways. So … ” he reached a hand around his head to rub at the back of his neck. “How’s Arthur?”

Your eyes widened. It was the first time Austin had called Arthur by his name. Before this it had always been ‘cowpoke’ or some kind of other insult. Was your brother finally warming up to him? “He’s a bit troubled right now … I gave him back his satchel, and he saw his journal.”

Austin shook his head, seeming empathetic. “Probably has a lotta memories in there.”

“Austin?”

“Hm?”

You shut your eyes briefly, bracing yourself for his answer to your next question, “Do you still hate him?”

Arthur’s eyes filled with amusement as he smiled, “Maybe a little,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a small laugh as you smiled back in return.

His grin grew wider at your reaction, then he gestured with his hand, pointing at the repeater. “He’s gotta hell of a shot.”

You let out another laugh, “Now you’re complimenting him? Where is Austin and what have you done with him?”

Austin chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong. I still sorta hate that man, especially after showin’ off like that.” He scratched his cheek, a habit you knew he had whenever he got embarrassed about something.

You tsked at him playfully, “You did kinda ask for it, though. I mean, really, Austin. Chicken feed?”

He chuckled, “You’re right, Y/N,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for saying that. It was stupid of me.”

You shook your head, “I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Austin.”

Austin let out a long sigh, seeming exasperated. “Men don’t apologize to each other,” he stated, his voice firm as if what he’d just said was a fact.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“But I guess I can try talkin’ to him sometime.” He added, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try,” you said encouragingly. You reached out and patted his upper arm in an effort to comfort your brother’s silly ego.

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Austin replied, his voice light in tone. “I suppose I should make sure all the animals are settled in for the night.” He turned around, picked up his gun, and started heading over to the stables.

You smiled to yourself. Your brother seemed to finally be coming around. Even though he wouldn’t outwardly admit it, you could tell he was starting to like Arthur.

Funny how guns could bring men together sometimes, you thought with a small smile.

-- To Be Continued

[multifandomhoodies]

. Here’s a. bit of a write up on corps life. 

my big number one? I wanna go back lmao. I’ve been home for a few days and I’m already to go back out there. 

Anyways. I spent two months camping and working in the pacific northwest and. honestly it was the most incredible experience of my life. I was on a five person crew (four members and a lead) and of that group there were only two people that hadn’t already done a session of conservation corps either at this corps or a different one. This was my first time doing a corps! I was like. deadass shitting a brick before I left. I was so nervous to fly across the country (I’d never even flown before!) and go do something I’d never done for two months. I’ve been camping. I’ve been hiking. I’d worked outside for the last nine months and had two seasons of outdoor work in park maintenance. but this was living out of tent for TWO months. I was super excited but I was. so fucking nervous too. And god to fly? Airports seemed scary and busy and I was scared I was gonna miss a flight or not be able to find where to go. So the weeks leading up to my trip I was so goddamn nervous. But I did it lmao. 

And then. corps life. We spent the first day doing orientation where I met my crew!! and then left to head to our campsite where we’d do saw training the next three days. We left the parking lot of headquarters to Colter Wall’s “The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie” and headed to an area in the Willamette National Forest. The drive there was incredible. I’d flown into Oregon the night before and really hadn’t seen much because it was 9:30 when I landed and had only taken a short lyft ride to headquarters p early in the morning so. This was kind of my first time getting to see more than the freeway of Oregon. It was so beautiful. The big ass trees and the river and the mountains were just. incredible. And then that night two of my crewmates made entirely too much spaghetti which we had for two nights. We then had to use the leftover sauce for another meal. Fun fact! We only had spaghetti once more after that. In two months. Spaghetti is usually a staple on corps. Not on Red Crew. We were scared. Also the crewmember who doled out the pasta portions for that very first dinner of too much spaghetti was banned by our crew contract from doling out grain portions. After that, we went into saw training. Three straight days of saw training and evaluations on the last day. We were starting at seven I think? Like, meeting a five minute walk away in full ppe with saws ready to go at 7am. I think I wrote that I woke up at 4:45 the one morning but honestly that may have been the jet lag. Saw training was exhausting but it was so much fun too. There was a lot of information to take in and I’d at least run a chainsaw before. There were people that hadn’t run saws before at all. On the third day of saw training, we loaded up into our rig (by the way! 2021 ford f250. super duty cab. extended bed with a truck cap. gigantic. massive. imposing. it also had no labelling. it was not marked with anything corps related. it did not even have license plates. it was probably a little intimidating when we were bass boosting driving around in that thing. but whiplash inducing bass boosting because like. notorious big to mumford and sons back to back. can you believe that we never got pulled over in driving almost 5,000 miles). anyways. we did saw evals in a burned zone. I got my bar pinched. I know what I’d do differently now but I have a lot more saw time. But I passed! My whole crew passed and are now USDA National Sawyer Certification A Class Sawyers. Or Feller 3s depending on how you wanna say it. I’m super happy because I got my first professional certification at 19. Although my card says I got it after my birthday but I did my eval before I turned 20 so I’m gonna take it. 

After saw training, we went up to a suburb of Portland to. sigh. move sticks for Karens. The area we were in SCREAMED homeowners association. in the name of “fuels reduction” they had us pick up sticks and hike them down to the road. The sticks were down because the trees were dying from this shitty little park. The first week was cold and rainy and we moved sticks. We cleared out an area close to the road the first day and then the rest of the week we had to swamp (move/clear) sticks up a hill onto this narrow trail. Everyone had blisters because no one was used to walking up and down a hill all day. Carrying wet and occasionally rotting sticks. We’d hike it up the hill to the trail and then load sticks into shitty wheelbarrows and then take those down this narrow path on a steep hill when it was fully loaded with sticks. By the end of the week we were walking a good quarter/half mile to the the road with heavy wheelbarrows. It was miserable. NO one wanted to complain because it was our first project but. eventually we all came to the conclusion that it was bullshit. It had nice views tho. Still my least favorite project. Even thought it was miserable I still like. had fun?? 

After that we went into Washington and planted trees. We actually did this for two weeks but with another site in between. This site uh. did not have bathrooms. Learned how to use a cathole. It hailed the first time I used a cathole. That was exceptionally miserable. But we planted trees! I wasn’t a huge fan of the site our first time there but I warmed up to it. We planted over 3,000 trees in our two weeks. One of our project partners stayed out with us, which mad respect. He was so sweet. We all joked that we were a little in love with him. He wound up hanging out with us during a few of our campfires. He told us about this trip he’d taken back in college to Peru. At this site we coined the phrase “meat plate” which would stay with us until the end of session. Meat plate is dinner that is just, assorted meats that need to be gotten out of the coolers. Also on this site a crewmember got his hand in stinging nettle while taking a shit. The first week was cold. It was rainy and shitty, mostly on the weekend. We did check out the ocean though!! I’d never been to see the ocean and we took the 101 north from near the Willamette to where we were and stopped actually at Fort Stevens State Park and that’s where I got to see the ocean for the first time. In march! It was sunny but actually super nice. We all waded in and one of my crewmates jumped in. It was march. IT was cold. This is the Pacific Ocean. Anyways he’s built different. The second time at the site was a week later, and it was super pretty. It was much better weather. We planted more trees. 

Third week was further in Washington like an hour drive from Olympia. This was my first time seeing snow covered mountains that were massive in the distance. We cleaned up 195 trashbags of plastic plant protectors. Also kind of a shitty project but hey. Wasn’t hiking stuff up hills so. Our partner for this had people come talk to us for educational stuff which was okay, bad, and fantastic in order lol. The partner sent people from their org to be with the speakers (who weren’t part of the org) and we told the one lady what we’d been doing and she started LAUGHING and she was like “I’m sorry they gave you that project it’s because no one else wanted to do it” thanks. it was a shitty task but our partners were so nice that it made up for it. they even got a portapotty on site for us. no but they were all super nice. oh god they’d told us not to yell/slam doors/make loud noises because there was an owl in the barn on the property. we all were loud people and kind of forgot but it was okay we didn’t scare the bird. the bird scared us. one of my crewmates got up to go pee in the middle of the night and it swooped at him. this place was great for birds. We had a very angery killdeer beep at us!! we pulled out scotchbroom from the corner of the property and every time we walked near where it must have had its nest it would very angrily beep at us. It was so cute. We all loved it. My crewlead would always yell back at it. “What!! What do you want!!” I love that lil bird. Pulling out scotchbroom was a trip. To pull out scotchbroom you should in theory be ale to use a weedwrench to pry it out. Right? No. This was old growth scotch broom. This stuff was two inches in diameter as the smallest. It wouldn’t always fit in the weedwrenches. At one point it took me, my crewlead, and a crewmate to pull a scotchbroom with as much force/bodyweight as we could put on it. A couple times my crewlead put his entire bodyweight on to it and wound up falling into blackberry lmao. There was so much blackberry there too my god. It was so painful. We all kept joking about letting our crewlead just burn the area in a prescribed burn to get rid of the invasives. In the parking lot of a different preserve from the same partner org I found a red dinosaur who became one of our crew mascots.

After our second week back planting trees, we headed back down to Oregon to work on a fuels reduction project. We were all so excited for this one. We’d gotten certed for saws at the beginning of the session and had been told that we were gonna be a saw crew doing mostly fuels reduction which our lead had specifically asked to do because he had experience with it. But this was our first real saw project with fuels reduction. The weather this week was amazing. It didn’t rain at all, which on the West side of the Cascades in Oregon in April is pretty weird. It was nice for us but Oregon was and maybe still is in a drought. yikes! anyways. this is when we went on a hike to Blue Pool in the Wilamette National Forest. We camped at a little municipal park with another crew! It was weird being around another crew again because we’d spent so long just on our own that we all starting to lose it a little. But the other crew was super nice and we played frisbee in the dark with them the first night we were in the area. The project? was amazing. We worked on private project with a conglomerate of partners in doing fuels reduction. This conglomerate of partners did a whole bunch of other stuff but we only did fuels reduction. That was a week of working in a burn zone moving sticks. Moving sticks and swamping and making sure piles were neat to be able to be chipped. We learned about dispersing and how to remove ladder fuels and where to leave small logs on the ground for ground fuel. My crewlead showed us hazard trees and took a few out. I really loved this project. I loved the “grab stick go” part of it. It was so much fun. I also got to run a lot of saw which was nice. And this property bordered a parcel of BLM land which wound up being the spot we went to go pee at. If you’ve never been West of the Mississippi river, which I hadn’t(!) you’ve never had the opportunity to be on BLM land. There is no BLM land in the East. I wanted to go on all five of big public land holders in the US and that’s the one I don’t have access to here at home. We actually wound up taking a “nature appreciation walk” because we finished our work early around this little nugget of land and it was so cool. It was right on the McKenzie river and it was beautiful. I found our second crew pet/mascot there, a large palm sized egg shaped rock named “Egg.” We were so filthy there. Four 10s in a burn zone makes ya pretty stinky when you dont get to shower. Actually, we weren’t as stinky here because we just smelled like ash. I had ash everywhere. We went out to eat after the last day and my crewlead hadn’t washed his face in four days and was completely covered in ash. 

Our last project took us 8 hours back into Washington. It was a long fucking drive. We stopped at Voodoo Doughnuts in Portland tho which was incredible. We rolled into our spot in Washington at 12:40. We slept with our sleeping pads and sleeping bags under a pavilion and were woken up by a ranger the next morning who thought we were homeless or illegally camping. This last project was also kinda bullshit. We were working with the Feds who kept telling us to slow down. We were at this project site for three weeks. The first week we cleared trails of downed trees and brushcut. The second and third weeks we helped General Maintenance take down trees and did so many runs to the dumpsite. We moved a lot of sticks and logs and my arms still look super scratched from moving branches. This spot was in the high desert of Eastern Washington and it was actually super pretty. I didn’t think I’d like the desert all that much but there was definitely a beauty to it. There wasn’t shit out there other than the dam. From there tho we were able to go to Leavenworth, this funky little Bavarian themed village up near the Cascades. We also went to Lake Wenatchee, which wasn’t as fun because we had to go move a fridge for the office staff. We spent about seven and a half hours on our last weekend doing this. I’m not salty. But it was super beautiful so. It’s okay. And we passed a prescribed burn on the way back to our site. 

There’s still so much more I want to write and talk about. I have to say I’m overall. just so glad I did this. I had the absolute time of my life. I have never had so much fun. I learned so much. I learned how to really put out a fire with a pulaski from my crewlead. He taught us how to use the Incident Response Pocket Guide to cross reference and look at the probability of ignition. I learned how to use a chainsaw decently well. I did a lot of things that were far beyond my comfort zone. To fly literally halfway across the country, from Ohio to Oregon, for two months and to live in a tent and work on a conservation corps, it was super beyond my comfort zone. I did things with a saw that were beyond my comfort zone and I had to trust in my ability to saw and trust in my crewlead to let me do something he felt comfortable with me doing and thought was in my capability. And it was it was so fucking cool. I really bonded with everyone on y crew too. I made some good friends. And just like. The things I was able to see and do were amazing. And it was so nice to spend so much time outside. I didn’t spend more than an hour or two at most in a building in two months. I worked in 50s and rain wearing rainpants and chainsaw chaps and I worked in the 80s and sun in chainsaw chaps. I was able to lift a full 5 gal of water (40lbs) onto my shoulder and I’m still super proud of it. I watched a ton of movies in the rig with my crewlead and one of my crewmates. I got to use my crewlead’s chainsaw which was a lot cooler, sharper, and bigger than our corps saws. I cried about trees a lot. I celebrated my 20th birthday in a state park with people I didn’t really know too well who surprised me with homemade rice crispie treats and snacks from the Chevron we were regulars for that week at. I hiked some really pretty trails. I gave a lot of hugs and got a lot of hugs. I became not as terrible at hacky sack. I realized that There Are People In My Life Who See Good Things In Me and I Just Want To Keep Making Them Proud. I realized that I’m incredibly hard on myself. This whole thing furthered my belief of goddammit if I wanna do it by god I’ll do it. It’s been a dream of mine since I was 15 to go be on a conservation corps. I got interested in corps life at 15 because of Youth Conservation Corps posting in Wayne National Forest in southern ohio and since then had just. Always wanted to do it. And that literally changed my life - because of just hearing about corps I got super into parks and researched it and was like “oh i wanna be a park ranger” and I started working at the park doing maintenance and went to school briefly for parks and rec management and then dropped out to work more in parks. but then this year, after five years of wanting to do it, I finally did a conservation corps. Not a youth corps but an adult corps. Five years! The biggest dream I had was to work on a conservation corps. I just wanted to use a pulaski on a trail once. And I did at our last project site, even just removing invasives. But just. This experience was something I’d wanted to do for so long and to finally do it and have it be as amazing as I thought was just amazing. My crewlead saw me taking pictures in Washington along the Willapa bay and was just like “corps is a slippery slope. You either hate it or you get addicted to it.” Tragically I’m addicted to it. I can’t wait until next January and March to get back out there. It was such an amazing experience and I feel like I learned a lot of really good soft skills and really good hard skills. I can’t possibly explain to anyone the full extent of what this meant to me and all the fun I had but. This is a long post and I have to go replace my phone so this will be it for now. In the off chance anyone made it this far, thanks. 

[the-awkward-outlaw]

While I love all the smut, I crave for drama to happen between Arthur and reader. I loved the jealous Arthur post you've written and the bits of drama in your fanfic but how will he handle if the reader is one who is jealous and it leads into a heated argument, where the reader almost breaks up with him? Or vice versa.

Okay, this was supposed to be short, but I just wrote ten pages for this. God, why couldn’t I have had this motivation in college! Anyways, hope you like it!

You’ve been at this stupid ball in Saint Denis for a little over an hour. The mayor of the city was throwing it for the Italian big suit that kidnapped Jack. You were suspicious about the whole thing immediately. Why in the hell would the man who kidnapped Jack and then returned him invite Dutch and the others to a ball? Definitely strange, but it was above you when it came to information. Dutch and Hosea explained to you and Tilly that they wanted you both to come in order to help them blend in a bit more with the crowd. Easier to pick up on contacts and potential future schemes. 

You’ve always hated balls. Having to dress up, look perfect in order to impress people you’ll never like anyways. You’d take an old, dirty pair of jeans and work shirt anyday over all these damn layers. There couldn’t be a worse torture than this. 

You’re waiting in the courtyard while Dutch and Arthur meet with this Bronte man. Hosea and Bill are mingling in the crowd, Tilly’s getting involved with a group of young men who seem to find her interesting. Dutch told you to go mingle as well, but that isn't your thing. You don’t “mingle”. 

You head over to the banquet tables where fruits, cakes and other delicacies are being offered. You hope Arthur will come down soon. You’ve been involved with him for quite some time now and things couldn’t be going better. He’s the perfect companion. You couldn’t design a better man. His only flaw is his insecurities in himself and it sometimes tends to make him a bit jealous. Not that you mind. You get jealous when passing women eye him hungrily. 

When you’re standing next to the table, you grab a glass of champagne and are about to ask the man behind the table for a piece of cake when you hear your name being called. You turn and see not Arthur, but a man you haven’t seen since you were fairly young. His name immediately springs into your mind. Benjamin Dowel. When you were fourteen, you lived in the same town as him and held a massive crush on him. He never knew this of course. Most of the teen girls in town had a thing for him, you were just another face in the crowd. But your relationship back then had been different. You were close friends through your teens until his father got a job in Saint Denis and his family moved down here. You wonder quietly how he wound his way into such an illustrious event as this. 

“Y/N!” he says again, stopping from you only a few feet away. You smile and then notice his suit. White jacket and shirt, white bow tie and black dress pants. Exactly like all the other waiters. 

“Benjamin!” you say, ignoring his position. “Oh my God, how many years has it been? You look great!” And he does look great. His ears aren’t nearly as large and his skin’s cleared up. It doesn’t help that he’s got a pleasant square shape to his shoulders, though that could be the jacket. He’s still handsome with his dark hair and eyes, plus his smile is still enough to make any woman swoon. It’s no surprise he’s even more attractive now than he was all those years ago. 

“Y/N!” he says, gesturing to you. “You look… wow, you look great!” 

You blush and clasp your hands. “Thanks. So… you’re a waiter here?” 

“Yeah.” He goes on to tell you that when he turned 18, his father demanded he get his own job, so he found a position working as a waiter at the saloon, but would work events like this. He’s been doing it for nearly ten years now as it is good work and pays well enough. 

For the next little while, you and Benjamin continue to talk and reconnect. You’re reminded why you had a crush on him for so long. He’s sweet, observant, funny and has an unwaverable sense of loyalty to his father. You’re constantly aware that Arthur’s around here somewhere and he’d be furious if he saw you flirting with this guy. However, he has no room to talk. You know that if Mary called on him again, he’d be off to see her faster than you could blink. 

You’ve always been jealous of Mary. She treated Arthur horribly and yet he let her keep a hold of him that you’ve never been able to understand. There’s no doubt in your mind that if things went the way Arthur wanted, he’d pick Mary over you. After all, you’d seen her. She’s beautiful, smart and not afraid to voice her opinions. It’s no secret that Arthur views you as just a second choice. He’d rather have you than be alone, but Mary is still his preferred option. That knowledge has always been a sore you’ve worked hard to hide. 

A reasonable amount of time has passed and Arthur hasn’t come to find you. He must be out trying to find the mayor. It’s given you and Benjamin a lot of time to chat. You ask him at one point if he needs to return to work, but he just shrugs and says you’re worth getting fired for. The two of you head off the edge of the courtyard near a nearly empty gazebo. He’s moved much closer to you than you’re almost comfortable with, but you don’t step away. 

“Y/N, can I tell you a secret?” he asks. You nod. “When we were kids, I, uh, I was really sweet on you.” He’s blushing worse than you’ve ever seen and rubbing the back of his head. 

You blush too. “Oh, Benjamin. Why didn’t you ever tell me?” 

“Because I knew there was no way you felt the same. And we were such good friends. I didn’t want to ruin that.” 

“Well, you should have,” you smile. “I was sweet on you too.” 

He smiles again, almost as though he couldn’t believe it. His hands come up and settle just above your elbows. He squeezes lightly and moves even closer. 

“You were always pretty,” he whispers, “but now you’re damn near radiant.” He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. It’s so sudden that you’ve no time to react, no chance to tell him about you and Arthur. Plus you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t always been curious what his lips feel like. 

You’re waiting for that spark though, now that he’s kissing you. Instead, you feel nothing. Not like when you first kissed Arthur. When that happened, there was definitely something there. But with Benjamin, there’s not even the sense of remorse or guilt. Just nothing. 

You pull away. “Benjamin, I… I can’t. You’re a great guy and my closest friend growing up, but-”

You’re cut off by the sound of breaking glass. The two of you turn and see Arthur stomping away, everyone else watching him, and a broken champagne glass only a few yards from you. Shit, there’s no question he witnessed what just happened. 

“I have to go,” you say, squirming out of Benjamin’s grasp. You chase after Arthur, calling his name, but he doesn’t respond. You see him in the darkness heading off the mayor’s property and towards the swampy pond, its banks dotted in manicured flowers.

“Arthur!” you call again as he stops near the water. He turns to you and his eyes are angry and betrayed. Your stomach drops, but you run up to him anyways. 

“Arthur, let me explain. I didn’t mean-” 

“You didn’t mean for me to see that shit, am I right?” he snarls. 

“No, that’s not what I was going to say. He kissed me, not the other way around.” 

“Who is that feller anyways?” 

You sigh and explain how you know Benjamin. Arthur’s eyes darken further. 

“So he’s your ‘what if’ guy, am I correct?” he demands. 

“I… I guess so. Arthur please, what he did was the last thing I wanted to happen. You know I’d never cheat on you.” 

“Do I?” 

You’re taken back by his response and a little offended. “Yes, Arthur you do. You know I’d never betray your trust and I know, or at least I hope, I have the same courtesy from you.” 

“And what the hell does that mean?” 

“You know exactly what it means, Arthur!” you say, your temper flaring. “Don’t lie to me and say that if that Mary didn’t say ‘Oh Arthur, I need you’ that you wouldn’t go galloping off to her. We both know that’s exactly what you’d do. I ain’t stupid, Arthur.” 

He glowers down at you, his jaw tight. “That ain’t fair, Y/N! You know that ain’t the way it is-” 

“Yes it is, Arthur! I know for a fact that I’m better than you being alone, but if things were different, you’d pick her. A thousand times over and over again! So don’t you dare tell me that it isn’t fair!” 

“You always been jealous of Mary,” he hisses. “You always suspected the worst of me whenever her name is even mentioned.” 

“And have you proven me wrong, Arthur? In Horseshoe Overlook, you went tromping off to her. It didn’t matter we’ve been together for over a year, you still went to her. And then what did you do? You lied to me, said you were just going off to tell her to stop pestering you. But I know for a fact you went in hopes she’d take you back!” 

“And how the hell would you know that?” 

“Because I followed you, Arthur! Forgive me for being suspicious, but I had to know for sure. I know your past with her and so I doubted you were going to tell her goodbye. And guess what? I was right! You went chasing after her brother hoping that she’d see how good of a man you are and want you back again.” 

“You seriously followed me? Well so much for us having a trusting relationship!” he roars.

“Yeah, I know it was a shit move on my part, but like I said, I’ve always known you’d choose her over me. I know if she ended up saying she actually wanted you back, you’d have come back to me and said things were over. I know I’m not a prize, Arthur!” 

You’re crying at this point and you’re hurt and upset. Not once has Arthur said you were wrong, that you were what he wanted. You can tell by the look in his eyes he’s not planning on contradicting you either. 

“It’s not fair,” you go on, more quietly this time, “for you to still be pining for Mary and for me to not have anyone else in case this doesn’t work. You have no idea how much it hurts to know you still love her and to know you’d just toss me aside so easily the moment she says your name.” 

You wipe your cheeks, waiting for him to say something. His face is still dark, his eyes glaring at you. “Yeah, but I don’t go around kissin’ people from my past. Especially in front of you. What you just did hurts too, Y/N.” 

His words are enough to confirm your fears. He loves Mary more than he’ll ever love you. Nothing you can do or say can change that. 

“You know what, Arthur?” you finally say. “We’re done. I’m not going to compete for your affections. Not with some silly woman like Mary who isn’t even around. It’s not fair to me for you to be jealous and for me to just be okay with you wanting Mary. I can’t do it anymore.” 

His eyes widen. “Y/N, no. Ya don’t need to do this.” 

“Yes I do, Arthur. I’m never going to have you the way I want, so I’m not going to try anymore. It’s over. I’ll move my things out of your room back at Shady Belle.” 

Before he has the chance to say anything further, you run off towards the street. You should be going back to Dutch and the others, it’d be the easiest way for you to get back to camp, but Arthur will surely be there too. You can’t bear to be around him anymore, so you wander the streets for a moment until you see the other guests’ horses lined up, waiting for their masters. The boy watching over them is napping, so you pick the horse farthest from him and canter off. You don’t care that the boy is calling and hollering for you to come back. You have to get away. 

When you’re back in camp, you head immediately up to your shared room. Or what was your shared room. There, you strip out of this stupid dress and tear off the jewelry. You leave them on the chair near the table. They were gifts from Arthur; you don’t want them anymore. You change quickly back into your everyday clothes and quickly pack up your belongings. 

You head outside and towards the two wagons where the other girls sleep. When you first joined the gang, there wasn’t really any room for you, so you slept under the wagons. It was actually kind of nice because it was covered from the elements and you didn’t have another person on either side of you. You stuff your belongings under the wagon again and roll out your bedroll. Mary-Beth asks what you’re doing, but you wave her off, not really in the mood to explain what just happened. 

When your things are set out the way you like, you’re not really tired enough to go to bed, plus you’re still hurt and angry. You also know Arthur’s likely to come find you and want to talk, but that’s the last thing you want. You head off to the boathouse behind the manor and sit on a rickety chair you’ve seen Strauss occupying multiple times. 

It’s late in the night when you hear the sounds of the coach rolling back in and Dutch’s loud voice carries over to you, though you can’t really make out what he’s saying. Your stomach tightens almost painfully as you worry about if anyone will tell Arthur where you’ve gone. An hour passes though and he doesn’t. Finally, you feel safe enough to go and try to get some sleep under your wagon. 

A few very awkward days pass and Arthur still has not tried to talk to you. Now that your anger is finally gone, you feel somewhat hurt that he hasn’t. Even though it was you who broke things off, you didn’t want to. You had to in order to protect yourself, but you still love him. He must be satisfied with things being the way they are. Hell, he’s probably daydreaming about Mary, or worse, he’s actively looking for her. A letter from her came to him the day after you broke up and Arthur’s been running off to the city a lot. 

The other girls try to get you to talk about what’s going on, but you still don’t really want to. Dutch has even approached you and tried to smooth things over, but you wonder if Arthur asked him to. You never saw it, but Hosea spoke to Arthur and gave him a few honest opinions, trying to help him straighten things out as far as how he felt about things. 

Part of you wonders if maybe it’s time to leave the gang. Arthur is such a vital part of it, he’s involved with pretty much everything. You won’t be able to do any jobs anymore without him being involved in some way or another. You come to the decision that you’ll just go off on a hunting trip for a few days. You’ve done it plenty of times before, so Dutch won’t think anything of it. And maybe, if you end up preferring the isolation, you’ll just end up not coming back. 

You pack up your bedroll but leave most of your other possessions behind. Most of them are gifts from Arthur anyways. A picture of some wolves he got from a photographer, another photograph of you and Arthur taken from a few weeks back. You feel a pang when you look at it. He looks so happy. You lay it back down and then crawl out from under the wagon, hop up onto your horse and leave. No one stops you, they all know at this point you and Arthur aren’t together anymore. You secretly despise their mixed looks of disappointment and pity. The likelihood that you’ll ever see any of them again is small. 

Once you’re away from Shady Belle, you gallop north towards New Hanover. You have not enjoyed Lemoyne much. Too hot and humid. You prefer the green and blue hues of the Heartlands. The change of scenery is a welcome relief. The vast open landscape feels incredible. You realize now that you’ve been cooped up in that swamp for too long. You’ve needed this. 

Game is plentiful and you do some hunting, catching a few deer and rabbits. You only take what you can carry on your horse in case you end up not going back. Right now, you don’t want to at all. It feels good to be out here on your own, enjoying the warmth and the light. No one’s around to bicker or perform mindless chatter. In fact, no one’s around at all. It’s all wonderful.

When night comes, you pitch your tent in case it rains. You stock your fire and cook some of the meat. Instead of Pearson’s usual stew, you treat yourself to a can of beans, an apple and some fresh cooked venison. Stars twinkle above you, reminding you of your newly acquired freedom. 

While it’s been nice to be out here on your own and take a few steps back from life with the gang, you find yourself missing company. Particularly Arthur’s. You spent many nights with him out in the wilderness and they ended up being some of the best times. It wasn’t just that you could be as loud as you wanted while fooling around with him, but all the walls between you came tumbling down. You could be yourselves. You find yourself crying again at the thought that it would never happen again. 

Somehow, you end up falling asleep. In the morning, you lie inside your tent, feeling slightly miserable. You don’t know what’s going to happen. You don’t really want to abandon the gang and Arthur, but you don’t know if you can manage to live with them and him like this. You don’t want to end up like John and Abigail, barking angrily at each other at every turn. At least you and Arthur didn’t have a kid together. 

The smell of roasting coffee beans wafts into your tent. Did you make some last night and forget about it? No, you couldn’t have. You never have coffee except early in the day since it keeps you up too long. The thought that some stranger might be in your camp going through your stuff sends a jolt down to your stomach and makes you get up quickly. When you get outside, you find not a stranger, but Arthur. 

He’s kneeling down next to the fire, cooking some fresh meat on your grill. From the percolator you can hear water bubbling a little and steam coming from the spout. That explains the coffee smell. Arthur looks up when you come out, his face blank. Your stomach clenches tighter. He’s probably come to finish the fight. 

“Arthur, I-” you begin, feeling defensive. 

“You ain’t gotta be worried, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes hidden beneath his hat. He pours some coffee into a tin cup and hands it to you. “Why don’t you come sit down?” 

You hesitate and then accept his cup, sitting down on the opposite side of the fire. Having no idea what to say, you take a sip of your coffee. An awkward silence passes between you for a few moments before Arthur finally says something. 

“Y/N, I um, I didn’t come here to beg you to take me back. I ain’t gonna put that kinda pressure on ya. But I did want to try and apologize, but you never gave me the chance at that ridiculous party.” 

“I’ve been in camp with you three days, Arthur. You could have come talk any time.” 

“I know, but I wanted to talk with you alone, but you were always with someone. It was like… I don’t know, felt like ya didn’t want me to.” 

“I didn’t,” you admit. “We said our things at the party, Arthur. There isn’t more to say.” 

He looks down at the fire. “Maybe for you. But please, Y/N, give me the chance to talk?” 

You recognize that he’s asking and not demanding, so you nod. He sighs and rubs his eyes for a moment. 

“What you said about me and Mary. Well, you were right. If she said even the tiniest word, I woulda gone to her. But these past few days without you have been tougher than all the years I spent without Mary. When she broke things off, my heart was broken. But when you broke things off. My heart wasn’t broken, it was just gone. I’ve taken ya for granted, Y/N. And you were right. It ain’t fair of me to accuse you of tryin’ to start things with other men when I’ve kept Mary in the wings for so long.”

Arthur stands up and approaches your side of the fire and sits down. He leaves several inches between you out of respect. “Y/N, I said I wasn’t gonna beg ya to take me back, and I’m not. However, if you wanted to reconsider trying again, I just want ya to know I’ll always be waitin’ for you. I’m willing to leave Mary in my past where she belongs. I guess I’m just hoping you’ll be in my future.” 

You’re trying not to cry again. You know when Arthur’s lying and his voice and just his energy says he’s being as authentic as ever. Your logic is telling you to say no, to leave things off. But that’s always been your problem. You’ve always listened to your brain more than your heart, which was why you were automatically suspicious when his first letter for Mary came. Maybe if you listened more to your heart, things would be different now. 

Arthur sighs again, looking away. “Anyways, I just wanted to set the record straight between us. I understand and I’ll respect your decision.” 

Arthur gets up and starts walking towards his horse, forgetting the meat he left on the grill to cook. If you let him leave now, the door to your future with him will close forever. You can’t let that happen and so you launch to your feet. 

“Arthur!” you wail, running up to him. He turns to be almost knocked off his feet by you throwing your weight at him. Before you can control yourself, you’re sobbing into his chest. He says nothing, but he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and sets his chin on your head. He’s warm and familiar. You’ve buried yourself into him like this many times. His scent envelopes you, only adding to the range of emotions rushing through you. 

After a few moments, he loosens his hold and pulls you away slightly, giving you the grin that shows his wonky tooth. You love when he smiles like that. He dries your cheeks with his fingers before pulling a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he says softly. You sniff and nod, feeling like you must look like a child. His hands find yours, rubbing them softly. “So… I hope it’s not too soon to ask, but-” 

You shake your head and cut him off. “It’s not, Arthur. And yes, I’m willing to try again.” He smiles again and all you want him to do is hold you again. As if reading your mind, he pulls you back into his arms, letting you rest your head into the crook of his neck. His right hand settles on your lower back and his left wraps around your shoulders. 

“You’re too good for me, darlin’, but I’m grateful you’re giving me a second chance. I love you.”

[littlestarofthewest]

ok I'm sorry if this sent more than once, tumblr mobile was being weird...but. All the women are out of camp for the day for one reason or another. Some of the remaining men get a game of poker going, but they're low on funds so it's STRIP POKER of course. Male reader's losing pretty bad and loses the last round...with no more clothes to get rid of, uh oh! How's he supposed to pay up?

I have no freaking idea why this story turned out the way it did, but I hope you enjoy (I could even imagine a part two, but who knows). 

Title: A Snake Among Us | Word Count: 3234 | Rating: Explicit

Pairing: the Van der Linde Gang x reader  (kind of, God knows how to tag this)

Tags: solo male, masturbation, sex toy, voyeurism

"Are you sure you don't want us to come with you?" Arthur asks for the third time now.

You stand with him by the side of the wagon. Hosea is sitting in the front and the girls in the back. Dutch is turning his horse around, looking at him. "Between Hosea and me, we have enough guns. What this job needs is finesse."

"And we have plenty of that as well," Hosea says, nodding back to the girls.

"Just try not to burn the camp down," Miss Grimshaw says, clearly as unhappy about the arrangement as Arthur.

Arthur looks back over his shoulder at the other men. "Can't promise anything."

"We'll be back before you know it," Hosea says, tugging at the reins. "Don't worry."

Dutch rides to the front with the wagon rolling after him, and you stand there with Arthur until they're out of sight. "Are we going after them?"

The way Arthur looks at you, you know he thought about it, but he shakes his head. "When Hosea and Dutch agree on something, then you better not question it. Come on, let's make sure the others behave."

The first thing you see when reaching the fire are the bottles of whiskey going around, and Sean is entertaining everyone with a story about his latest score. John is holding out a bottle to you. You look over to Arthur, and he laughs. "Don't look at me for permission. I ain't Hosea."

You take the bottle from John to take a swig. John is watching Arthur. "Does that mean you're not going to play chaperone?"

"You do whatever you want," Arthur says, shrugging his shoulders.

He takes the bottle from you, drinking a few gulps that make your throat hurt just by watching. Sean must have caught on to the conversation. He steps onto a box, stretching out his arms. "You hear that, fellers? Choirboy Morgan is with us for a change."

"How about some poker then?" Javier throws in. "Some nice, innocent fun."

He's clearly teasing Arthur, but Arthur just smiles. "Sure. I don't mind taking your money."

"What about you, Y/N?" Javier asks.

Poker isn't exactly your game, but it should be fun to let loose for once, now that you don't have to worry about a job. "Sure, why not."

You walk over to the table with the others, Sean following you. He ends up sitting next to you. Arthur, Javier, and John take the other seats while the rest of the boys find places to sit so they can watch. 

"Five dollars buy-in?" Arthur asks, striking a match on his boot and lighting a cigarette. When everybody stares at him, you included, he raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Where have you been playing poker?" Javier asks.

"Saint Denise?" Arthur says, seemingly unsure what the problem is.

Sean huffs next to you. "Listen, Mr. Big Shot, since you've been keeping me out of the big scores-"

"Have not," Arthur throws in, but Sean talks over him.

"- I don't have the funds to throw the big dollars around with you fellers."

"Then we play without money," you suggest.

Javier nods along, but John shakes his head. "That's boring. There gotta be some stakes."

"Play strip poker then," Bill throws in. When everybody looks at him, he shrugs. "What? I ain't the one who can't spring five lousy dollars."

"Ah, why not," Sean says, clapping his hands on the table. "I'm in. John's half-naked most of the time anyway."

"Hey!" John grunts, but Sean ignores him.

"Arthur, you in?" Sean asks.

You're sure that Arthur will not only say no but shut the thing down. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders again. "I ain't got no problem with taking your clothes instead of your money."

"What was in that bottle of yours, John?" Sean chuckles, and John glances at Arthur as if he's thinking the same thing.

Arthur shuffles the cards, the cigarette still between his lips as he looks over the table. "Y/N? Javier?"

"Just deal already," Javier says, and all eyes wander to you.

You didn't worry too much about losing a bit of cash, but your clothes are a very different thing. Even worse is the prospect of watching any of the other guys undress. Ever since you joined the gang, you kept wondering how Dutch managed to put so many attractive sons of bitches in one place. 

You've seen some of them in various stages of undress. That's something you can't avoid while living in such close quarters, but you never walked away from it unscathed. More often than not, you end up pleasuring yourself with at least one of them in mind. This just became a very dangerous gamble, but you can't think of a way to say no without looking like a complete loser.

"I'm in," you say with a shrug, doing your best to sound casual.

"Alright, let's go then," Arthur says, and only seconds later, your first cards fly your way.

Although your heart is racing, you try your best to keep a poker face. The first ones to lose are Javier and Sean, but with only their hats gone, they shrug it off easily. When John has to take off an item for the first time, everybody gratulates him on wearing more than his union suit for a change. 

Next, both you and Arthur lose your coats, while Sean has to let go of his vest. It keeps going like this, and when you pick your boots to take off next, the others use that option, too. That tactic keeps the game decent for quite some time, but then it begins to get interesting. 

You have a string of luck, taking more and more clothes off the others while you stay almost completely dressed. Arthur and Javier end up sitting there shirtless, John is down to his union suit, and Sean slips out of his pants with a grunt, sitting back down next to you in his underwear.

Maybe it's because you get cocky with nothing to worry about, maybe your luck just turns, but all of a sudden, you keep losing. Javier has to take off his shirt. Other than that, you're the only one who has to strip. In only a few rounds, you take off your vest, shirt, and pants. Sitting there in your underwear, you sure hope that this is it. 

Looking around at so much naked skin, you're sporting a little tent with no interest in showing it to anyone. You watch John and Sean closely since they are the closest to getting naked beside you. Sean actually loses, but instead of getting up, he pushes his underwear down under the table. 

"You fellers are really eager to get some Irish dick," he jokes, making the others laugh while you do your best not to look over to him.

John is about to deal the next round when he suddenly stops mid shuffle. "Sean's already naked, what happens if he loses again?"

"I guess he's just out of the game then," Arthur says.

"Then we'll all end up sitting here naked, and nobody loses or wins," Javier huffs, and John goes back to his earlier argument.

"Yeah, that's boring as hell."

"What do you want him to do?" Arthur grunts. "Sit on 'the snake'?"

Everybody stares at Arthur out of big eyes, and Bill has a horrible coughing fit. With your heart pounding like crazy, you take a deep breath, asking a question that you know you'll regret. "What's 'the snake'?"

"I'll get it," Javier says, jumping up from his chair and walking over to his tent.

"I was joking," Arthur calls after him, and a weird atmosphere takes hold of all the men. It's anxiety and excitement at the same time, and when Javier comes back, you get an idea why. He puts "the snake" in the middle of the table, making Arthur roll his eyes. "Why would you get that?"

"John wanted to have some stakes," Javier says with a grin. "That's a stake."

All eyes fall to the middle of the table. The snake is pretty much a wooden penis, with a small base on the bottom so it can stand on its own. The tip is a little thicker, and carvings in the wood actually make it look a little like a snake. 

"I've never asked where you even got that thing," Sean says, lifting his hand as if he wants to touch it, but then he just rubs his neck.

"From a nice girl, I met," Javier says, his eyes glazing over as if he remembers something. "She sure knew her way around that thing."

John is leaning over the table, inspecting "the snake" from all sides before looking at Arthur. "So when you said 'sitting on it,' did you mean like getting off on it?"

"How often do you want me to say that I was joking?" Arthur says, rubbing his forehead. It seems that he's finally reaching the end of his rope after all. "We're not doing that."

"Then we're back to money?" John asks, looking at Sean. "You might need to get your big dollars out after all."

Sean is about to jump up but thinks better of it. "Oh no, I'd rather sit on that thing."

Everybody falls quiet for a long time until Javier pushes 'the snake' closer to Arthur. "Come on, big boy. You really want to chicken out now?"

Arthur rubs his beard, thinking about it, and finally, he throws his hands in the air in defeat. "Shit, we got this far, might as well go all the way. But I ain't forcing anyone. If you want to get out, now is the time, and nobody's gonna give you shit for it."

He looks around the table, and you know you should get up, but something deep inside of you forces you to stay. It's a thrill you can't quite explain. Both the thought of watching one of the others doing this, or maybe even being the one yourself, makes your cock twitch. Heat takes hold of your body when John picks up the cards again, sealing all of the players' fate when he deals the next hand. 

Sean gets lucky, and instead, Arthur is the one who has to give up his pants. Your body grows uncomfortably hot when you look around the table. There aren't many items of clothing left, and Sean is still in danger of ending up on "the snake" in the next round. 

It doesn't come to it, though. Instead of Sean, you're the one who has to get rid of your underwear. You pull it down under the table just like Sean did. Still, that doesn't change the fact that you're on the hot seat now as well. And now it's Sean's turn to deal. You wouldn't accuse any of the guys of cheating, but the thought still takes root in your mind. 

"Luck of the Irish," Sean quips at the end of the round while your heart stops. You stare down at the cards, cold shivers running down your spine. There's no way around it. You lost. It's your turn on "the snake." "Go on then," Sean says with a nudge of his elbow to your ribs. 

John clears the cards off the table, the only thing remaining is "the snake." All of a sudden, it's seems so big compared to any guy you've had in the past. And it's not soft or yielding like a penis. It might be polished a whole lot, but it's still solid wood. With a deep breath, you get up, holding a hand over your genitals to have at least a last line of defense. You won't be able to hide how this fucked up situation actually turns you on, but for now, you can pretend.

After having a quick look around, you get up on the table. All eyes are on "the snake," and you try to figure out the logistics when Charles suddenly holds out a hand. 

"Wait!" he says, stepping over to his tent, before coming back with a small bottle. "Here."

You give him a thankful nod, and after a deep breath, you take your hand away from your crotch. Some hushed sounds are coming from the men around the table, but you can't pinpoint who it is. Instead, you try to forget all about your surroundings. This is about getting through this with as much dignity as you can, preferably without hurting yourself. 

After unscrewing the bottle, you get a good amount of oil on your hand and grab "the snake." Holding it like this takes a bit of your anxiety away. You clearly had bigger cocks in your ass, so there's no reason why you should be afraid. Running your hand up and down the wooden length, you try to imagine that it's just that, the cock of a feller you just met, and you're getting ready to go for a ride. 

With a new portion of oil on your hand, you prepare yourself next. Leaning forward, you bring up your fingers to your hole, making circles around your rim before pushing a finger inside. Your cock keeps twitching, and you can hear the breathing of the men around you, the silence sometimes interrupted when someone shifts into a new position. 

Without looking at them, you dare to imagine what they think. There's a reason why Bill suggested strip poker in the first place, and Javier was all too eager to get "the snake." Even Arthur, joke or not, had the thought of someone actually riding that thing. It might be weird that you're turned on by this, but the guys around you aren't any better. Hell, it's not like any of them is leaving. With that thought in your head, you decide to make this good for everybody involved.

Arching your back, you push back onto your own finger, letting it slide in and out a few times before you take it out. Then you reach back and grab "the snake," positioning yourself above it. As graceful as you can, you sink down slowly, the tip sliding into you. Resting for a moment, you get used to the feeling before pushing further down. The toy glides into you without trouble, and you begin to enjoy the stretch. 

It's actually not so different from what you're used to, and without looking at anybody in particular, you roll your hips. "The snake" creates a nice rub inside of you, and it stands stable enough that you can actually ride it as if there was a guy under you. At first, you keep yourself propped up on the table while you move up and down, but then you sit back, letting your hands roam over your body. 

With one hand, you tease your own nipples and massage your chest, while the other hand runs down your stomach. You cup your balls and roll them around in your fingers, keeping your hips always in motion to push "the snake" in and out. There are more sounds around you. Breathing, coughing, even quiet grunts, and shuffling of feet. You try your best to ignore it, especially when your hand finally grabs your cock. 

Every muscle in your body is tense, and your legs feel tired, but you keep going. Once in a while, you sit so far up that "the snake" almost glides out of you. Then you push back down with one harsh thrust. The treatment makes you gasps, but you can't help doing it again. Your fingers move up and down your length at a steady pace. Whenever the toy is buried deep inside of you, you tease the tip of your cock with a quick rub. Smearing precome over yourself, you know you won't last much longer, not if you keep this pace.

Moans and more gasps escape you as you quicken your movements. You need "the snake" deeper inside of you, and soon you're going so hard that you have to concentrate on not losing it. The hand on your cock loses its rhythm more often than not as you're stroking yourself in a frenzy. The tension in your body grows, your balls tightening. You bite your lower lip and move so fast that your balls slap against the toy, making a sound that echoes through the night. 

You have your eyes closed by now, only focused on the sensations in your body. Your mind is racing with scenes and pictures that you imagined in some restless nights, all the men around you making an appearance. A new idea pops up in your head, letting you think that they could get up and touch you. Somebody could take out "the snake," making room for his own cock. They could take turns fucking you, reaching around to tease your cock, make you come. You're sure your mouth wouldn't go unnoticed. They could hold your face, make you suck them off, push deep, and come down your throat.

The picture becomes so clear in your mind, it's almost as if it's really happening. With loud moans, you pump your cock so violently that there's no turning back. With you pushing yourself hard onto "the snake," it goes in as far as possible, hitting just the right spot deep inside. Your balls tighten and your cock pulses, hot strings of come shooting out of you onto the table.

Everything is quiet then except for your hard breathing. You carefully stroke yourself a little more before slipping of "the snake."

"I hate to interrupt a good party, boys, but you might want to get decent," a voice says next to. "The ladies will be back any second."

Your eyes fly open, and you stare right at Dutch. You have no idea when he came back, and if he saw what you did, but even if he just came in, he'd have a pretty good idea of what occurred. The men around you scramble to their feet, looking for their clothes. Arthur is kind enough to hand you your coat so you can cover up quickly. Javier pulls out a bandana and hastily wraps "the snake" into it. While Dutch walks back to the horses, you pick up your clothes.

At first, you're horribly embarrassed, but looking around, you notice how most of the other guys do their best to quickly get into their pants. They turn away from each other, hiding their crotches and avoiding eye contact. They aren't a lick better than you. 

Holding your head up high, you don't bother to dress or even close your coat. Instead, you look at all of the others in turn. "I think the next time we play, whoever wins should take the place of the snake. I sure wouldn't mind losing."

There are silent grunts and curses, clothes falling to the ground, and men tumbling to the floor. Your heart beats like a drum as you walk through the camp, watching as the men flee in their respective tents or opt to hide somewhere in the woods. You know what they're doing, and the thought that you brought this on, maybe entering their minds in minutes, gives you such a powerful feeling that you know exactly what you're going to do in your own tent. You're more than ready for round two.

[facilityjse]

 Audio Log 10.3.2019

Incident interview between Dr. Rebecca Feller and Specimen J0702. See incident file 9.3.2019 (breach).

[FELLER]: Hello, J0702. How are you feeling?

[J0702]: Well...probably as good as I look.

[FELLER]: Ha, alright. How does J0702-A feel? And the connecting nerve?

[J0702]: I mean, it hurts. But how else would a knife wound feel? A’s fine, I guess. They’re not upset or anything.

[FELLER]: Does it feel like A needs to retreat back into your socket?

[J0702]: No, not really. I think this liquid you provided is really helping, keeping them from drying out, you know? What is this anyway?

[FELLER]: It’s a synthetic liquid meant to resemble human tears. It’s supposed to be clear, odd that it’s turning green.

[J0702]: Maybe that’s just because A’s been in it so long.

[FELLER]: Interesting. Anyway, I didn’t just come in here to check on you, though that is a priority. I need to ask you about the events of last night.

[J0702]: (pause) Oh.

[FELLER]: It’s just for the purpose of knowing exactly what happened. It will help us understand A1010 better, so we can better contain it.

[J0702]: A1010? That’s what he’s called? He’s another one of the specimens, isn’t he?

[FELLER]: I’m not cleared to tell you that much, but yes. A1010 is the highest level threat in this facility. You’re lucky you’re still alive.

[J0702]: Yeah, lucky, huh?

[FELLER]: Well obviously that nick in your nerve isn’t...good, and neither is the rest, but you walked away in the end. Not many can say that. Which is why we need to contain A1010, to keep others safe. So I need to know what happened last night. If you would rather write it down instead of speak, I can bring you a pen and paper.

[J0702]: No, no, I can...I can talk about it. Where should I start?

[FELLER]: When did you first notice something was wrong?

[J0702]: Uh, well. The lights were out, but I was on my computer, and I—shortly before this I realized I didn’t...know what I look like. I mean, I can’t remember it, and I hadn’t seen a reflection yet. I noticed the computer had a camera, and you could open up a view on the screen, so you could see what the camera sees, you know? And again, the lights were out, but I figured it was better than nothing, so I turned on the camera and opened up the view. It was weird, I felt like...it was familiar, you know? Like, I knew it was me. Except for the tattoos.

[FELLER]: The what?

[J0702]: These ones on my neck. With my...I guess it’s my name. See? I saw them, and...I don’t know, it felt...different. Like, it was knew.

[FELLER]: Those are your ID markers, don’t worry. Anyway, please continue.

[J0702]: Okay. So, I was looking at the view from the camera on my computer, and I saw something move in the room behind me, in the view. Freaky, you know? I turned around and nothing was there. But I turned back and it...it was closer to the me in the view. And it was like, a shadowy person. But it still wasn’t behind me when I turned around. And it wasn’t in the view when I looked back that time, so I tried to close the window, but it wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t minimize it either. And then I happened to look back at the view, and...well, the me on the screen wasn’t doing the same thing I was. It was just...staring at me.

[FELLER]: And this scared you?

[J0702]: I mean, yeah! At first I was only a little creeped out because I thought it was somehow delayed. The view was kind of lower quality, a little glitchy, so I thought that was it. But then the me on screen tilted its head and...smiled at me. And at that point I screamed and tried to get away, but I like, tripped over my chair or something and fell down. Then there was this weird static sound coming from the speakers, and laughing, and it—it came out of the screen and...

[FELLER]: Out of the screen? What do you mean by that?

[J0702]: ...it was like...the computer was actually a window. And these hands reached out one by one...and pulled the rest of the body out. He—it—he had my face. He looked just like me.

[FELLER]: What happened next? Did A1010 say anything to you?

[J0702]: Yeah. He looked down at me and said something like, “So you’re new here, are you?” And he moved—god, you should’ve seen the way he moved, it was like...like, human bodies shouldn’t move that way. They’re not able to move that way. And the voice...it sounded like he was talking through a computer program. One that was glitching out. He said something like, “You’re a nice fit,” and that was...(shuddering sound)

[FELLER]: How did you respond to that?

[J0702]: How the fuck do you think I responded?! I was frozen for a moment, just kind of taking it in, I guess, and then I stood up and ran. 

[FELLER]: To where?

[J0702]: The door, at first. But it was locked, so that was useful. And this thing, A1010, he must’ve known the door would be locked, because he just waited. And when I looked back at him, he smiled at me. Said something like, “Aw, did you think it would be that easy?” and suddenly he was right in front of me. I mean almost instantly, he disappeared and one second later he was in my face. Then he...

[FELLER]: What did it do?

[J0702]: He grabbed my throat. And started to squeeze. I-I couldn’t get him off, I thought I was going to...but then he threw me across the room, and I had to take a moment to get my breath back. I don’t know what happened while I was doing that, but somehow the door was open, and I saw him bend over and pick something up. When he pointed it at me, I realized it was a knife.

[FELLER]: I’m assuming A1010 then proceeded to attack.

[J0702]: You’re right. He was in the doorway, so I couldn’t get out so I tried to hide. The bed was nearby, so I got behind it and I tried to get under it, even though I knew he would see me doing that. But he was fast, and he ran at me and pulled me back. He looked at me, and I just—I don’t know, it was like I froze. I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried, and I kept hearing this—this static sound in my head. Then he made some comment like, “Don’t be shy, I’d love to get to know the new guy,” and that knife...h-he was holding it against my face, and he must’ve seen how I-I was...I kept trying to look at it. Because he said something like, “You don’t like knives? They’re not too bad. See?” And then he—h-he—

Recorder picks up five seconds of silence.

[FELLER]: Security personnel reported that when they recovered A1010, it had a wound on its neck. Is this when it happened?

[J0702]: ...yes. And it was my own face, s-so you can...anyway. I couldn’t even pull away, but I tried, because he was giving me a look that I just know meant that—that he was about to do the same thing, you know? But then...I don’t know, something changed, and his expression changed, and he said, “You have something special in your head, don’t you? That’s what they’re interested in.” And he dropped me, and before I could stand up he grabbed my wrist and set my hand on the ground and just—just stabbed—it went right through, you know?

[FELLER]: I know, I read the medical reports.

[J0702]: He left the knife there, and pushed me to the ground, and held my head down and said “should we take a look at it?” and—and you know I know that A can come out, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with things being near my eye. Much less fucking...hands. Prying...

[FELLER]: Is that when A1010 removed J0702-A?

[J0702]: ...yes. I don’t think he was expecting it to be...that easy. He looked kind of surprised when they just popped out. But he got over it, and started pulling, until he smiled at me and said. “This doesn’t look too good. I think it would be easier if we just removed the problem.” Fuck, I-I—I’ve never felt more—I tried saying anything to get him to stop, I don’t even remember if I said anything over the sound of static in my head, but it didn’t matter, because he just laughed. And he pulled the knife out, and...

Recorder picks up ten seconds of silence.

[FELLER]: That was when it tried to sever the nerve, right?

[J0702]: (pause) I thought he would succeed. But instead, he just got...frustrated, that it wouldn’t cut easily. Until he dropped it and glared at me, but then he smiled again and said, “So, is the rest of you as tough as this?” And—god. Look, if you’ve read the medical reports, you know what happened next.

[FELLER]: I do. (pause) After the...stabbings, the security personnel arrived, right?

[J0702]: They, did, thank fucking god. I was sure he was going in for a third, but then he screamed and fell over sideways. I couldn’t sit up, i-i-it hurt too badly, but I saw his form like...flicker a few times, and then it became...I don’t know, more solid. I saw him glare and then grab the knife and stand up, and I didn’t see what happened yet but I heard him yelling, and a few people yell in pain, and eventually his voice stopped. And then the people in uniform came over, and a couple of them looked at me and...I don’t really remember what happened next.

[FELLER]: Do you remember arriving in the SMB?

[J0702]: The what?

[FELLER]: Where you are now.

[J0702]: Kind of. It’s like, a bit...blurry, I guess. I remember being put down on a bed, and I remember a few people saying things about my eye, about A, and I remember looking over and seeing...fuck, you’re not going to believe this.

[FELLER]: Go on.

[J0702]: (sigh) It looked like...a person, like a guy standing nearby. But there wasn’t...color, if that makes sense. Like, black and white and kind of see through. I remember he made some weird gestures, and then...I don’t know, maybe I passed out. Blood loss can do that.

[FELLER]: ...I see. Well, I’m...sorry, about this. But I thank you for telling me everything.

[J0702]: No problem. (laugh) Hey, do you...know how long I’ll be in here?

[FELLER]: By my estimation, and overhearing of the medical personnel, at least a week, possibly two.

[J0702]: And after that, it’s just going to go back to normal?

[FELLER]: Not quite. We have something planned.

[J0702]: What?

[FELLER]: I’ll tell you more once we’ve finalized the details, but I think you’ll like this.

[J0702]: Oh. O-okay.

[FELLER]: Get some rest. I’ll see you again soon.

[J0702]: Alright, then. Bye.