#kind of low on spoons but doin alright ^_^

[butchdykekondraki]

really funny to me that people are shocked at how good the ides board is (very good btw) when i found this blog specifically when it was a kin blog. btw how are ya'll doin

you bitches are NOT learning your required empire lore i cannot believe this/j

[writingwhimsey]

My Pirate Lord and Our Life Ch. 49

A little fluff and a little smut. 18+ NSFW content below the cut

Chapter 49

It was a few weeks later, I woke in the middle of the night, which was starting to become a regular occurrence. Pregnancy-induced insomnia was no joke. Motonari was still sleeping peacefully as my big spoon. I smiled as I enjoyed the feel of his warmth around me. I snuggled into him, trying to adjust and hopefully get back to sleep, though experience had taught me I would likely just be awake for hours, lying there in the dark with my thoughts.

It was times like these, I wished Motonari were awake with me. Keep me company. But at least one of us should be getting some decent sleep, so I just decided to enjoy the feeling of his arms around me instead.

Feeling restless, moved my legs, stretching a bit to get more comfortable...and instantly regretted it. I got hit with one of the worst and most painful leg cramps.

I gasped as the pain in my calf hit. I tried to carefully untangle myself from Motonari so as not to wake him, trying to stretch out my leg, but that only seemed to make the pain worse. I knew that I needed to straighten it out in order to try and stretch the muscle out, but man it really hurt and I felt tears forming in my eyes.

"What're ya doin' awake?" Motonari asked, sitting up beside me.

"Sorry...I didn't...mean to...wake you." I answered, feeling bad for waking him up, but finding it difficult to keep the pain from my voice.

Motonari instantly sensed something was off. "What's wrong?"

"Just...a leg...cramp...bad one." I answered.

Motonari quickly pushed the blankets aside, his eyes adjusting to the low light of the room quickly. He was then pushing the hem of my night robes up and pulling my leg into his lap, his fingers kneading the extra tight muscles of my calf. It was a bit painful at first, but slowly he managed to work the cramp away and I was able to relax a bit.

"That better?" He asked.

"Yeah...sorry for waking you up...and thank you."

Motonari shook his head. "No need to apologize Ava. Wake me up any time ya need anything." He told me, as he brought his hand up to cup my cheek.

I leaned into his touch, smiling at the warmth not only in his touch, but in his words and actions. "Anything?" I asked.

"Anything." He answered. "You got somethin' in mind?"

"I mean...no I couldn't ask that." I replied.

"Ava."

I looked over at Motonari, his face glowing in the light of the fire that kept our room nice and warm. I let out a sigh. "Well...what if I was just...you know having trouble sleeping and wanted some company?"

Motonari smiled at me. "Is that all ya want?" He asked, wrapping his arms around me to pull me close.

"Yeah...I've kinda started having some insomnia...and well when I wake up and have nothing to do but lay here...I just...I kind of want to wake you up...but I figure at least one of us should be getting some decent sleep." I explained.

"Ya wake me up any time." Motonari replied, kissing the top of my head. "I'll happily set up with ya a while...I might grumble about it at first, but I'll be alright."

I laughed as I snuggled into his embrace. He adjusted our position and then pulled me into his lap. It was then that I felt the baby start to kick again. I grabbed Motonari's hand and placed it over the low spot on my belly. "Somebody else is awake, too."

Motonari smiled as he felt our baby kicking in my belly. "Kid already wants ta get in the middle." He said with a laugh. The baby seemed to kick harder in response to Motonari. "What? Ya gettin' as fiery as yer Ma?" He asked, looking down at my belly.

Oh my God! He just...that is just...gah! I internally squealed with delight at how cute Motonari was being talking to our baby. I knew if I said my thoughts aloud, he's just say something about the flowers in my head making me crazy or something.

"I see that look on yer face, flower girl." He said, his tone teasing. "Ya wanna say ya think I'm cute 'r somethin', talkin' with the kid."

"Well...I mean..." I replied, trailing off and then shrugging my shoulders.

"I'll show ya cute." Motonari replied before he began to tickle me.

I laughed as I did my best to wriggle away from him. I managed to get part way out of his lap, on my hands and knees, crawling away. Motonari got on his knees and was grabbing me by my hips and pulling me back to him. His arms encircled me and pulled my back against his chest.

His head came to the crook of my neck and he placed several kisses there, his hair tickling me as he did. "Ya tryin' ta get away from me now?" He teased.

"Well...when you're tickling me, yes." I answered, giving him a pout.

He kissed my puffed out lower lip. "That's what ya get fer thinkin' I'm cute." He replied, grinning at me. "Course I can think of better ways for us to spend yer sleepless nights."

I felt my cheeks heating up at the suggestive tone of his voice. "Hmm, I think I might need an example."

Motonari slid his fingers along the exposed part of my chest, going from my collarbone down to the valley between my breasts where he traced lazy circles with his fingertips. He kissed the side of my neck. "I think ya know exactly what I'm thinkin'." He replied, his breath tickling over my skin.

Though he had barely touched me, I was already feeling myself getting all hot and bothered. I swear my sensitivity had increased in recent weeks. It didn't take much from Motonari to get me turned on...and it didn't escape his notice either.

"Yeah, so?" I replied, turning my head so that I could meet his gaze.

He grinned. "Talkin' a big game like that when me just barely touchin' ya has ya lookin' at me like that already?" His nose brushed mine as he leaned in closer. "Wonder what yer gonna look like when I kiss them lips."

"One way to find out." I replied before closing the distance and taking the kiss for myself.

Motonari grinned as he kissed me, his hand sliding into my night robes to capture my breast, his fingers toying with my nipple. His other hand went to my thigh, sliding up towards the center of my heat. I moaned into the kiss as I felt his fingers toying with the sensitive bud between my thighs.

I moaned and writhed under his skillful touch, pulling away from the kiss as I could no longer focus. Motonari showered kisses along my neck as he continued to work me with his fingers on my breasts and between my thighs. "That's my girl. Moan for me." He breathed against my neck.

"Mmm...Moto...nari!" I called his name breathless already. My back arched as he continued and the waves of pleasure washed over me.

He slid his fingers farther back before plunging two into my heat, his palm on my sensitive clit. "Yer already so wet." He breathed into my ear before nibbling on my lobe.

"Ah...ngh!" I moaned once again, losing myself in the pleasure of his touch. I could feel the rise of his desire pressing against my ass. While I was enjoying what he was doing, I was already wanting more.

"If ya want more, yer gonna have ta ask for it." He told me, his heated gaze meeting mine.

I was then reaching back, sliding my own hand into his robes, finding the proof of his desire. I stroked him, running my thumb over the sensitive tip. "Looks like...I'm not the only one, whose all wet." I replied.

"Damn." Motonari breathed. The next thing I knew, he was finishing disrobing me and then himself. He slid into me from behind, my back still pressed against him.

Words left us as he began to thrust, holding onto my hips. I leaned back, the only sounds filling the room were our panting breaths, our gazes locked on each other. We kissed, as we rocked together, his hand once again sliding between my legs to stroke my clit. I soon felt my walls clenching around him as the white hot heat reached it peak.

Motonari soon joined me in release, both of us break the kiss to moan, though our eyes still remained on each other's. We were both breathing heavy as we slowed our rocking and I rested back against him. "Yer so damn beautiful." He told me, kissing my forehead.

I smiled at him, nuzzling his neck. "Hmm...I love you."

"I love you, too." He replied.

We were laying back down in the futon, Motonari pulling me close to him as he pulled the cover over us. "You know...I'm definitely waking you up when I can't sleep from now on." I said with a giggle.

Motonari laughed. "I remember another time where I offered ya somethin' like this when ya couldn't sleep and ya turned me down." He said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, well I still thought you were some mustache-twirling villain at the time." I replied.

Motonari shook his head. "That was also the night ya first told me about your world."

I laughed at the memory. "Yeah...I kinda had fun with that."

"I gotta know, what made ya decide ta tell me the truth then?" He asked.

"Because I knew you wouldn't believe me...and well I thought bewildering you like that would be the perfect revenge for all the headaches you were giving me." I answered.

Motonari laughed. "Why did I know that was gonna be yer answer?"

"Because given our relationship at the time, what else could I have been thinking?" I replied, grinning.

"That and that's exactly what ya would do. Yer too fiery and stubborn."

"It's my fiery stubbornness that helped me worm my way into your heart."

Motonari picked up my hand and held it in his. "Yeah." He brought my hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there. "And I'm glad ya did. Life with you is the best adventure."

I smiled at him and stretched up to press a kiss to his lips. "The very best." I agreed. I was starting to feel drowsy once again.

Motonari pulled me to his chest, he tucked my head beneath his chin. He began to run his hands up and down my back. "Get some sleep, flower girl."

I closed my eyes and nuzzled his chest. "Mmm, I think...maybe I...can do that...now." I replied before letting out a yawn. Motonari continued to rub my back as I drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace. The chill of the winter air didn't stand a chance while I was wrapped up in him.

Motonari gazed down at Ava as she slept. A smile came to his face. "My treasure." He whispered, kissing the top of her head before closing his own eyes to join her in sleep.

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/674778176450330624/my-pirate-lord-and-our-life-ch-50

[kitkat1003]

@ninja-knox-ur-sox-off​ I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT BEFORE i wrote anything easdfgdserweesd IM STUPID

Spirit is not hiding.  

They’re not.

Huddled in the storage closet hidden in the kitchen, curled up behind boxes, they are not hiding.  They’re just...relaxing.  You know, taking a break.  

It has nothing to do with the fever they have.  Absolutely nothing.

Sure, Spirit knows from their readings that bedrest is important when it comes to dealing with illness.  If mom was around, she’d be telling them to lay down and relax.

But, as they remind themself every day, mom isn’t here, and Spirit does not have the luxury of being a child who can rest.  They’re an adult now, with responsibilities.  Pigsy put them in charge of the shop.  They have to make sure things run smoothly, even if they’re tired and a little more than a little dizzy.

They lean their head back against the wall and sigh.  They have another hour until Pigsy gets back.  They were running low on spices in the shop, and Pigsy had to run out to a place a good while away and Spirit was in charge because Pigsy trusted them.

They can’t mess it up.

They press their palms against the floor, and take a deep breath to steady themselves to get back to work.  Their breath catches in their throat, but they swallow the urge to cough.  They’re about stand, when

“That is not a good hiding spot.”

Spirit’s eyes snap open.  They freeze in place.  Eyes wide and terrified, they hardly breathe.

He wasn’t supposed to be back for an hour!  How did he find out?  He’s going to be angry.  He’s going to yell, because Spirit failed him and now they’ve proven themselves unworthy of his time or care or anything because they’re not supposed to fail-

Pigsy comes around the boxes that were supposed to be a sheild, glancing down at them with confusion written all over his face.

“Hey, Sprite, you doin’ alright?” He raises a hand, reaching out.

Spirit flinches, hands raised, and they turn their head away, shaking.

The shop is silent.  Spirit is too afraid to open their eyes again.

“Hey,” Pigsy’s voice is feather soft.  Spirit hears him lower his hands.  “I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.  What’s wrong?”

Spirit turns their head back to fast they give themself whiplash.

“I’m sorry,” They start.  “I didn’t mean to mess up, I made sure all the orders we had were done before I came back here, I wasn’t going to stay long, I was just sitting down for a second, I’ll get back to work, I’m sorry-,” Their tirade is cut off when they cough, curling in on themself as they hack up the mucus stuck in their throat.

“Okay,” Pigsy starts, when Spirit’s coughs peter out.  “First things first-I’m not mad.  There’s nothing wrong with bein’ sick, kid.  I wish you’d’ve told me sooner, you look terrible.”

Spirit blinks a few times, staring up at Pigsy in bewilderment.  He’s not mad?  Why wouldn’t he be?

“Second,” Pigsy continues.  “Let’s get you up to the apartment.  This store room is no place to lay down in.  C’mon,” He squats down to their level, hooking a hand beneath their arm and carefully pulling them up.

Spirit stumbles a little, swaying on their feet as Pigsy carefully leads them out of the store closet and through the kitchen.

“How did you know I was in there?” Spirit asks, instead of the hundreds of other questions they have.  Their head is a bit scrambled, between the haze of sickness and the slowly receding terror.

“MK,” Pigsy replies simply.  “When you aren’t paying attention, he watches you.  Checks up on ya’, since you’re wrose than he is at taking care of yourself.  He saw you swaying on your feet and texted me.  Told me you went into the closet when I showed up.”

Spirit rubs their many eyes, trying to stay upright.  They feel very, very warm.

“Did you get your shipment?” They ask, because that’s the important thing.

“Nah,” Pigsy waves a hand.  “Mei’s been wanting a long drive anyway, so I asked her to get them.  It’s not an issue.’

They manage to get up the stairs, though Spirit has to lean heavily on the wall to keep going.  From there, Spirit stumbles into Pigsy’s apartment.

Pigsy doesn’t take them to their hammock, though.  He doesn’t even lay them down on the sofa, pulling them past the kitchen and living and into a room Spirit has never dared enter.

The bedroom.

Spirit doesn’t have the energy to really take it all in, letting Pigsy settle them onto the bed, pulling out their hair tie and setting it on the sidetable.  Spirit expects him to grab their glasses next, but it seems that they shifted back to monkey form when they weren’t paying attention, so there’s no need.

“Sorry,” Spirit mutters, again.  They don’t know why they’re apologizing, just that they ought to.

Pigsy pulls up the covers and leaves, coming back a minute or so later with a cold compress he places on Spirit’s forehead.  Spirit’s eyes close as they soak in the feeling of being cool, a respite from how warm they’ve felt all day.

“You’re alright, Sprite,” Pigsy assures.  “Get some rest.”

Spirit’s never been one to argue against an order.

They rest.

Their dreams are far from pleasant.  They’re running, unsure as to where and only knowing that should they stop they’ll feel nothing but pain.  They have to keep moving.  Long legs carry them what feels like miles, shadows nipping at their heels as whispers and shouts of rage get closer and closer.

They trip.

They fall.

Tumbling into a wall that wasn’t there before, they scramble to get up, to escape, but walls close in until there’s nowhere to go but backwards, and they can’t do that.

They turn around, staring at the mass of shadows that congeals into a figure.  Eyes, flickering with different colors.  Brown, Purple, Yellow, Blue.  A wooden spoon, a shadow spike, a looming claw, a metal spoon.

Reaching down, the yelling gets louder.

It always touches the same place.  It always digs into the same place.

It always hurts in the same place.

They always scream.

There’s a hand on their shoulder.

Spirit throws a hand towards their latest attacker, claws bared, and

Their wrist is grabbed, and their hand stops, inches from Pigsy’s face.

Spirit blinks.

They’re in Pigsy’s bedroom.

Oh.

“Oh!” Spirit yanks their hand away, cradling it against their chest.  They’re mortified.  “I-I’m sorry, I-uh-I didn’t mean-,”

Pigsy waves a hand, holding out a bowl of soup.

“Don’t worry about it.  MK’s hit me worse, and he’s got monkie kid powers,” He tells them.  “Eat.”

Spirit takes the bowl.  They sip it carefully.  It’s just a simple broth, with a few short cut noodles and some chicken and veggie cubes.  Spirit realizes that they’re hungry a moment after tasting, and the dish is demolished in a minute.

“Thank you,” Spirit whispers, afraid to say it too loud.

Pigsy takes the bowl.

“No problem, kid.  Get some more rest.  You look a little better already,” Pigsy gets up to leave.

“Okay-but!” Spirit reaches a hand out to stop him.  “Um, when I’m better, could you teach me how to make that?”

They gesture to the now empty bowl Pigsy is holding.  Pigsy raises a brow.

“I-I mean,” Spirit fidgets with the blanket.  “It’s different than the, uh, other stuff I know how to make, so...”

They want to know how to make it so when Pigsy is sick, they can do this.  They need to even the score.  Or, moreso, they want to.  Pigsy is nice, almost too much so, and Spirit has to return it.  That’s how a transaction works, right?

Maybe they can never repay Pigsy, but they can certainly try.  It’s terrifying, to be in someone’s debt.  Pigsy could tell them to do anything and they couldn’t say a thing against it.

Pigsy just smiles.  He ruffles their hair, soft.

“Sure, kid.” He replies, heading out of the bedroom.

Spirit thinks Pigsy deserves a lot.  They really need to figure out how to make it so Pigsy has the world.  But maybe that’s for later, because they are very tired, and Pigsy told them to rest.  They ought to listen.

When they fall asleep this time, their dreams are kind.

[zenexitwrites]

hello all! i was in the @rdrsecretcupid2020 this year and got a super cute partner @nattravn-stuff ! i was quite happy to do some poly arthur/john/abigail for you!  here is the ao3 link and the fic will also be under the cut!

title: sunset rated: T major warnings: none

Arthur sat up in the bed, a groggy sense of heat clinging to him. The kind that made his whole body feel clammy while he slept. Over his chest sat a large bandage, where he had been shot a few days prior by Micah. It had not been in the heart, or any organs, blessed by some unknown grade of god he had never known.

Looking out the window in the small room Arthur had been sleeping in, he could see the lights on the horizon getting low. Reds and pinks mixing together in gentle swirls as the sky began its heavenly descent. There was a tiredness to Arthur’s bones that he had been fighting for months, but wanted to give into so badly. During the time leading up to the final showdown with Micah and Dutch, Arthur was sure he wasn’t going to get out of all of this alive. There was just a sinking feeling deep in his chest, down into the very depths of his bones, that had filled him with dread. A disease like feeling, that Arthur didn’t deserve to get out of all of this alive. Like the best way he could save his soul, or any of those that mattered to him, was to let it all go from his hands. To sacrifice himself on that mountain, to do whatever it took to get John and Abigail, and their family, out of there. 

It was in those moments, watching a sunset not that different from the one Arthur could see right now, that Arthur had let his eyes lower and drop, feeling suns fading light for what he thought would be the last time while clutching bullet wounds he had expected to kill him.

In the end though, it had been more than that. Another had come to the mountain and pulled Arthur off, a desperate John who had learned from a young age never to give up a breath would be the last. A choking noose might feel final, but there could always be one last saving bullet. 

He might not feel worthy in any sort of way, but Arthur had little choice aside from laying there watching that sunset. He could hear faint sounds past the thick wood door that separated Arthur from the rest of the house. It was Abigail in the kitchen, and Arthur could make out the lightest notes of her humming to herself as she worked. He closed his eyes for a moment then, trying to let the moment sink in. This divine world that felt like sunlight on gently blown grass, the kind he never thought himself worthy of. 

John had taken his horse out to go hunting that day, and was now showing Jack outside how to brush him out properly. How to desaddle a horse and clean its hooves, moving over the belts and brushes with his son carefully. Arthur knew after dinner it would be time for Abigail and John to settle Jack into bed, and Arthur cursed himself every night he was just adding another burden on the two of them. Even times like now, where Abigail was singing to herself with a heart full of love, and John was finally learning to show how he really felt towards his son, Arthur couldn’t help the weight on his chest. The guilt that said it was his job as a man and a human to do something for these people, to help make their lives easier. 

A soft but confident knock on the door preceded Abigail opening it a crack and looking in on Arthur before smiling all the way up to her eyes. Arthur had never appreciated the freckles that went across her face until he had spent more time with Miss Roberts in the past few days, her loving hands helping him as best they could. 

“Arthur, are you ready to eat?” Abigail asked, a bowl of stew in her hand. 

Arthur forced a smile on his face. Or, attempted to. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Abigail. In fact, two of the biggest lights in this entire thing had been her and John. Of course, Jack too, but there was something different in the air between the three of them. Something that felt a little bit more charged than before. 

As far as the world knew, Arthur Morgan had died on the mountain. He had bled to death in his weakened state from the injuries he had sustained from Micah. Revenge was a fools game, and John had taken to running with his family instead, leaving this life behind. The world didn’t need to know about Abigail and Jack hudding next to Arthur in the back of a cart, a large cover draped over the two of them while John rode like hell itself was chasing them. Maybe it was, maybe those licks of guilt and shame and death that Arthur felt around the corners of his mind so clearly, had been the kind only a fool like Marston could run from and manage to get away. Hands in his pockets with hard stolen treasures, in this case a family he had never known he needed, with Arthur a man who had never known how to say how much he wanted.

“I could eat.” Arthur said plainly, and tried to sit up before groaning. Pain moved through his body and Abigail sighed loudly while shaking her head.

“You gotta stop doin’ that, Arthur, you know you’re gonna tear your stitches out.” Abigail pulled the wood chair in the room closer to the bed and neatly laid the bowl and spoon in her lap and began to feed Arthur.

Arthur reluctantly sipped on the stew after Abigail would blow gently on it. Miss Roberts made him miss Pearson’s cooking. She wasn’t bad at it exactly, and she put her whole heart into it, but… She wasn’t exactly good. Arthur knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth though, and didn’t complain. He was man enough to admit he never wanted to be on the bad side of Abigail’s anger, especially when she was trying and working so hard to nurse him back to health. 

Hell, even John had been trying. He had come in twice a day to help Arthur up and out of the house out back. For Arthur to take care of his business, and to give him a chance to sit in the wild he cared so much for. Jack had brought coloring equipment to Arthur’s side, and asked him to draw with him. Something that had helped the long hours of the day where Arthur could keep his eyes open go faster. 

There was something so nice about being part of this family, Arthur didn’t think he deserved it, but he couldn’t help but secretly long for the chance to stay. For him to get well on his feet and get to ride with John, bringing home large game they could bicker about who had caught better while Abigail would laugh and tell them to help strip it for dinner. Arthur wanted to teach Jack more, to help the hole in his heart feel a little bit lighter from all the times he had been aching for something just like a son to fill. Arthur wanted to laugh at John and his attempts to dance with Abigail, to try to show them both up when requested, and then be even worse. Arthur wanted to succumb to that Marston charm that everyone fell for so easily, and count stars with him at night once more. He wanted to stand behind Abigail and help her slice vegetables and just get to take in every part of her, and appreciate something in this world that didn’t smell like an outhouse. Arthur knew it was selfish, but he wanted to feel what it would be like to be tucked up between the two of them while he slept. How it would be to have both John and Abigail under his arms, while staring up at a night sky free of society’s touches. 

Getting to the last of the stew, Abigail scraped the bowl getting the last bits to offer Arthur who humbly ate it. She smiled at him again, in a way that made his heart feel light. The kind of smile that could make a man forget about his guilt, his shame and loss, and just get lost in the moment of. 

“Was it good this time?” Abigail asked, looking quite pleased with herself.

“Yes ma'am, it always is.” Arthur said with a small laugh that only made his body ache a little. “Thank you for doing all this for me.”

Abigail rolled her eyes as she stood. She put the bowl on the chair for a moment and began to straighten her dress, pressing down the folds and wrinkles that were on her skirt.

“Arthur, you know it’s not a problem. John and I are happy to do this for you.” Abigail leaned over then and pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s forehead, and he let his eyes flutter closed for a minute while his cheeks burned hot. 

Before Arthur could reply, Abigail continued.

“John and Jack will be inside soon, they want to eat dinner in here with you. I think Jack is excited to tell you everything about today. Is that alright with you?” Abigail fussed with Arthur’s hair for a moment, finger combing it away from his forehead.

Arthur looked into her eyes and smiled.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

[overwatchworks]

Teammates Through and Through:

McCree head-canon Chapter 3, Part 3

Jesse didn’t have to go far to find who he was looking for, Ana turning a corner and not missing a beat in motioning for him to follow her after seeing his face and slouching posture. He followed the captain to an empty break room, Ana going over to the stove and placing a kettle on it, Jesse sitting on the counter.

“So, who do I need to hunt down?”

“H-huh?”

“Who made you upset?”

Jesse rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, Ana glancing at him with those intense honey-brow eyes of hers while she waited patiently for an answer.

“I...Ran inta someone from my past earlier on our mission.”

“And who was this particular someone?” Ana inquired, pulling two mugs from the cabinet and setting them in front of her.

“My...Uhm...My mother.” Jesse whispered, watching as the captain spooned ground tea leaves into the cups.

“And I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” Ana stated, Jesse bobbing his head and swallowing thickly before continuing.

“She left me when I was real young. At my uncle’s place. Horrible guy. Ended up havin’ ta run away from the orphanage after he was jailed, found Abuela, then I went to Deadlock after she passed.” Jesse told her softly, feeling completely vulnerable and quite honestly terrified by it. 

He had never told anyone about his past before, never trusted anyone enough, never thought they would care. Most of the time people didn’t, but Ana was different.

“What did you do when you saw your mother again?” Ana asked calmly, gazing at Jesse with her hands pressed against the lip of the counter, back hitting it from the way she was rested against it.

“I, uh, yelled at her an’ pulled a gun...” Jesse muttered through a small, nervous laugh, eyes cast down sheepishly. Scared to look up.

“Seems appropriate, considering the state she must have left you in.” Ana hummed, now pouring boiling water into the waiting mugs and stirring the contents a bit.

“Y-yeah, so...I kinda flipped out. Things had already been rough, an’ I had a bunch ‘a things eatin’ at me fer a while an’ it all just, ya know...Exploded. I panicked an’ I got upset, an’ I already don’t know what I’m doin’ with myself, an’ I feel like everythin’ just wants me ta stop this shit. Stop pretendin’ I can have it good when all I got set up fer me is shitty people an’ fucked up places. It’s not like that here, an’ I’m scared that it’s gonna just disappear like everythin’ else that’s good in my life.” Jesse blurted, everything spilling out once he had started. He sat in an uncomfortable silence after that, arms wrapping around his middle as he tried to make himself smaller.

“Jesse McCree. You have every right to be angry at the people who made you suffer. But you cannot believe that suffering is all you are going to get in life, and you cannot stay angry forever. It will only drag you down more. You were given a hard start to your life, one you didn’t deserve, but you made it through as a strong, kind, handsome, and determined young man. You deserve good things in your life Jesse, and I won’t lie to you, not all of them are going to stay. But most will, so long as you hold on to them.” 

“You have to hold on to the good things Jesse, because they will keep coming, we just have to wait for their time. You are a wonderful young man, and I will not stand by upon hearing you say otherwise. Good things will come, and you must be willing to let them happen. Do not forget the past, but you cannot fall back into it. Now drink your tea before it gets cold.”

Jesse stared at Ana for a long moment as she took a delicate sip of her tea, then he slowly took his own cup, staring down into it thoughtfully.

“Ya really think so...?” He asked quietly, Ana raising her brows and nodding.

“I know so. Now, I assume you’re suspended, right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright. You can stay with Fareeha and I during the day, we’ll work on your aim and various weapons. And then some schooling.”

Jesse groaned, Ana shaking her head and laughing, patting the cowboy’s forearm consolingly.

“I assure you, my punishment will not be as severe as Gabe’s would be. Drink the rest of your tea, then get some rest, Jesse. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

--

As it turns out, Ana’s ‘punishment’ was far worse than anything Jesse could have imagined with Reyes.

“Ya do what now?” Jesse asked in exasperation for the fifth time, Fareeha pointing her pencil at the paper and jabbing the end at a number.

“You put that one at the bottom of the equation and multiply each of the top numbers by it!” She explained angrily, tapping her own finished problem and making Jesse groan.

“God, why is this so hard?! They’re just goddamn numbers! Yer just supposed ta count ‘em, not this multiplication shit!”

“Jesse McCree, you had better watch your mouth around my daughter.” Ana reprimanded, giving the cowboy a hard look as he grumbled and stared at his mostly empty page. He squinted a bit, then leaned back with an “oooooohhh,” scribbling down numbers and comparing his answer with Fareeha’s.

“Ha! Wasn’t even that hard.” Jesse chimed triumphantly, both mother and daughter giving him a flat look that he pointedly ignored, starting on the next equation with renewed vigor. Jesse had pretty much been put into homeschooling with Fareeha after practices with Gabe and Ana in the past two and a half weeks that he had been suspended, and he was actually enjoying himself, liking learning new things. 

He had dropped out of school when he was fourteen, so it seemed fair enough that he was picking back up at that level of education again. Jesse had finished his page with Fareeha, the both of them chatting excitedly about the mechanics of rocket jumping when Reyes walked into the commander’s commons room they were in with a sigh. 

The cowboy glanced up, the conversation halting as all three of them stared, the commander going over to the coffee machine and frowning, eyes darting around the room suspiciously.

“What?” He asked after a moment, Jesse raising a brow as Ana spoke what they were all thinking.

“You look terrible. What’s wrong?”

Reyes eyed Jesse and Fareeha, then sighed, shoulders slumping as he rubbed a hand over his face and tired eyes.

“This thing we’re working on...I’ve got all these top linguists here to figure out these damn messages we’ve been tracking, and what have I gotten? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! They’re supposed to be top of the line, and they can’t for the life of them place what these people are saying!” Reyes complained, rubbing his forehead in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Ana hummed in disinterest, going back to her daughter and checking over her work.

“Maybe I should make you some tea instead of your coffee. You know how hard the caffeine is on your body.”

“Ana, caffeine is the only think that keeps this fine piece of art before you working. I’ll be damned before I let someone take it away from me.” Gabe grumbled, Jesse snorting as Fareeha hid her smile behind her hand, Ana shaking her head in disapproval.

“If you insist. Want me to come take a look at it for you, see if I can pick up on anything?” Ana tried, Reyes sighing and picking up his fragrant, steaming mug.

“You know what, yeah. Yeah, I’ll try anything at this point.”

Ana followed him out with a pointed look at Jesse and Fareeha both, telling them without words to stay where they were and not cause any trouble. The door shut gently behind the two, Jesse staring down at his page while Fareeha gazed up at him expectantly. He side-eyed her with a raised brow, trying his damndest to keep the smile off his face.

“What’cha want, Fairy?”

“Well, aren’t we going to follow them?!” She asked excitedly, bouncing a bit in place as she shook the cowboy’s arm.

“Easy now! Ya saw the look yer Momma gave us, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah...”

“That was the ‘stay here an’ don’t’—“

“‘Don’t go making trouble’ look, yeah.”

“So obviously we got some rules ta be breakin’. Come on!” Jesse told her as he jumped off the couch, Fareeha whooping and bounding after him with her fists in the air. The cowboy pressed a finger to his lips as he put his ear to the door, Fareeha nodding seriously and making a little zipping motion over her own lips before leaning in next to him to listen as well.

“I think we’re good, let’s go!” Jesse whispered, cracking the door open and peeking out before motioning to Fareeha to follow him.

“Do you know where they went Jesse?” The girl asked quietly, keeping light on her feet as Jesse grinned and nodded.

“A secret place fer decodin’ secret messages? Hell yeah I know.”

He walked in complete silence despite the spurs on his boots, having quickly learned how to be stealthy while keeping up the cowboy appearance, Fareeha trying her hardest to copy his movements. He smiled at the effort she was making, though it wasn’t quite as effective as Jesse’s stealth, all she needed was some practice and fine tuning-something she was getting plenty of while hanging around Jesse and sneaking about with him. 

They reached the room the cowboy had correctly assumed the commander and captain had gone, hearing muffled voices coming from both people and a recording from outside the door. Jesse motioned again to Fareeha, first waving towards himself, then again towards the floor, telling her to get low while he tried to listen to the voices. He squinted as he strained to catch syllables and sounds, frowning when he recognized the particular lilt and shaping of a few of them.

“Wait a minute...”

“Jesse...? What is it?” Fareeha whispered, eyes widening when his hand went to the keypad, quickly typing in a few numbers.

“Wait no stop! Mom’s gonna be mad if she finds out we’ve been snooping! This was not part of the plan Jesse!!” She whisper-shouted, the cowboy turning to her and giving a lopsided grin.

“Bail, I’ll take the blame!” He told her, and she scampered off with a nod as Jesse shooed her away, opening the door when she was safely out of sight.

“But I assure you commander, we will find—“ The linguist that was rambling cut off abruptly, everyone in the room turning to stare at the cowboy, and Jesse grinned at them.

“Boy howdy, I didn’t expect this room ta lead me ta some secret message decodin’ or anythin’. What a surprise this is!” He drawled, catching Reyes’ eye and grinning even wider at the way his jaw clenched, anger bubbling just under the surface.

“Agent McCree, if you do not remove yourself this instant I will personally see to it that you—“

“Play that message again fer me, will ya?” Jesse interrupted, knowing he was in for some serious punishment, though he hoped if he was right, this would lessen his suffering slightly. The linguists looked to Reyes, but he stayed quiet, eyes burning into Jesse as they hesitantly played the message again. 

Chatter started up mid-sentence, Jesse’s brows furrowing as he listened and the edge of a smile tugging at his lips, understanding every single word of it. The message ended abruptly, everyone gazing at him intently once more as he nodded, then burst out laughing. Jesse wrapped his arms around his middle, practically wheezing as he bent over because, seriously? This was what Reyes had been obsessing over for the past week?

“McCree, I swear to god if you don’t tell me what’s so funny, I’ll whip your ass into next month.” Reyes growled, Jesse holding up a finger as he gathered himself and straightened.

“Aw god, y’all gotta be kiddin’ me! This is what’s been stumpin’ ya fer a week? It’s Hokan!” Jesse told them, motioning with his hands when the linguists and commanders all gave him a blank look.

“Hokan! Here, listen again!”

Jesse played the message again, grinning the whole time, Gabe giving him a hard look before he shook his head and held out a hand from where they were crossed over his chest.

“Wait, you’re saying you know what they’re speaking?”

“That, an’ I can do ya one better, Jefe. I’ll translate it fer ya.”

Reyes watched him as the cowboy listened to the message once more, cackling again as he did.

“Okay, well, ya got two guys talkin’ there, an’ they ain’t happy ‘bout the newbies gettin’ all the pay an’ attention while they’re the ones slavin’ in the heat an’ keepin’ watch.” Jesse informed them, the commander raising a brow when he didn’t say any more.

“That’s it?! That’s what we’ve been fuckin’ losing out minds over?! Some guys complaining in this Hookey language?!”

“Hokan.” Jesse corrected, and Reyes rounded on him, pointing a finger to his chest.

“And you! Where the hell did you learn how to speak that?!” He raged, Jesse unable to keep the smile off his face as he raised his hands placidly.

“It’s a native language down in the desert, hardly ever used anymore. Kinda considered a dead language now, but they still speak it in a few places way deep in the southern deserts. I learned it while I was livin’ with a lady who had ancestors an’ family who spoke it, Hokan an’ a few others, that is.” He said with a little shrug, glancing at the awed faces around the room, and Reyes closed his eyes, turning with a deep breath and muttering something under his breath in Spanish.

“McCree.”

“Yes sir?”

“You’re officially not suspended anymore.”

“Yesssss!”

“But. But, you will still be receiving punishment for coming in here. Come with me.”

Reyes motioned and walked out the door, Jesse following after him as the agents in the room murmured among themselves. The cowboy trailed a few feet behind Gabe, waiting for him to say something, reprimand him, anything, but they ended up walking to the commander’s office in silence. When the door shut behind Jesse, he cleared his throat, taking off his hat and running the brim through his fingers, properly anxious now.

“Sir?”

“How many languages do you know, niño?” Reyes finally asked, sitting down at his desk and lacing his fingers together, gazing at Jesse over them.

“Uhhhh...Five. Spanish, English, Hokan, Penutian, and Uto-Aztecan.” Jesse nodded as he spoke, counting them off on his fingers as he listed them. Gabe’s brows rose in astonishment, and he leaned back in his seat, dark eyes drifting to the desk and flicking a bit as he thought.

“I don’t even know what the hell half of those are, but that’s still impressive. You catch on to them pretty fast?”

“Yeah, I’d say so. Ya learn enough ‘a them, ya find out the best way ta tack one down.”

“What?” Reyes deadpanned, confusion evident across his features, and Jesse smiled a bit as he shook his head.

“Yes sir, I think I can. Why do ya ask?”

The commander regarded him for another long moment, seemingly making up his mind as he leaned forward in his chair, Jesse tilting his head a bit. The cowboy raised his brows as Reyes slid a tablet towards him, pink cherry blossoms, a glittering city in the distance, and the word “Hanamura” pictured on it.

“How do you feel about learning some Japanese?”

~~

[iamthewanderingbard]

From Finner

Everypony has someone who influences them, changes their lives. For Lyric, that someone was Finner, an old stallion who lived by the sea.

This story was greatly inspired by the song From Finner by Of Monsters and Men.

Many thanks to these wonderful people for helping to turn this story into the best that it could be: KellyTheDrawingUni, Protopony350, Kirito-Persona, MelancholyIguana, Will-Owl-the-Wisp, and Haycart.

You may also find this story on my FIMFiction and DeviantArt accounts.

The Old Stallion

The wind was howling outside, cold enough to chill to the bone, and the salt in the air stung the eyes of everypony in it. It was the perfect night for a gathering in the tavern. Ale, cider, and other drinks flowed from cask, to tankard, to belly, as the ponies inside laughed and gossiped and exchanged exaggerated accounts of their daily lives. Or at least, most ponies did. For there was one mare sitting in the corner, wrapped in a cloak, barely noticed by the others except for the fact that she was a stranger. Her light green mane and tail were marked by a darker green streak, and her tan, freckled face scrunched in concentration as she worked on tuning the antique instrument in her lap. As these first soft notes floated into the gathering, a few of the nearby patrons turned her way. Some raised their eyebrows as they sipped from their mugs, while others observed curiously. Soon, a quiet melody rose from the instrument, and the mare cleared her throat. “Good evening, everypony,” she said. Her voice was tremulous, though it carried through the crowd. “Have you ever wondered where the stars came from? Well then, gather 'round and listen to my tale…” And so the mare told the story of Dashing Hoof, how he, as an explorer, had been sent to survey Equestria after the Princesses had assumed their roles, how he’d discovered stones that only glowed at night, and how, after showing this discovery to the Princesses, these stones had been placed in the night sky for all to enjoy. But while the melodies that sounded were sure and sweet, the story was occasionally marred by a small stumble, slip of the tongue, or by the teller of the tale rushing through her words. Still, the ponies politely applauded and even tossed a few bits her way before returning to their tankards and their conversations. The mare bowed low, then turned to retrieve her coins. Scooping them into a pouch, she cinched it closed and tucked it into a pocket sewn in her cloak’s inner lining. The pouch sagged, but although she feared the weight of it would tear the seams, they instead held. The mare gave a sigh of relief. She set to the task of preparing her instrument for travel when she heard a stallion’s voice from behind her. “Not bad, kid,” it said. The mare peered over her shoulder. “Coulda used a bit of polishin’, but with a bit of practice, it’ll rightly shine.” She said nothing, eyeing him instead. The stallion extended a hoof. “Name’s Shark Fin,” he told her, “though my friends all call me ‘Finner’.” The mare now turned to face him. He was an earth pony like herself. His coat was the color of indigo, and his mane and tail were a light, sandy hue, as was a short but somewhat unkempt beard that ran along his jawline. His eyes, set in a weathered face, were seafoam green. Fumbling with the instrument in her fore hooves, the mare returned his gesture. “Lyric,” she told him, shaking his hoof, a timid smile gracing her features. “Nice teh meet yeh, Lyric,” Shark Fin said, setting his hoof upon the floor. Lyric nodded and went back to readying her instrument for travel. She rolled out a piece of oilcloth and held an end to its neck. There was a reverent whistle, then she heard the stallion say, “Yeh know, I ain’t seen a lute like that in ages.” A twinkle came into Lyric’s eyes at his comment. “You know what this is?” she asked him, her lute cradled in one fore hoof, the cloth in the other. “Course I do,” Shark Fin replied. His voice carried above even those of the nearby patrons. “Anypony’d be blind not teh see it for what it is. Would yeh mind if I...?” He held his hoof out, motioning towards the lute. Lyric’s eyes dropped to her instrument. She gazed upon its faded varnish, the scratches that marred the wood’s surface. The silence grew between them. But, after a time, Lyric held it out to Shark Fin. He grinned in thanks, then bent over the instrument in his own close examination. Lyric shuffled from hoof to hoof. It felt like an eternity — when in reality it had been only a few moments — before it was returned. “This is a fine piece. A mighty fine piece,” he said as Lyric wrapped the cloth around the lute’s neck. “Whoever built it knew what they were doin’.” Lyric’s smile was warm now, though her back was to Shark Fin. “They certainly did,” Lyric said as she tied a string around the cloth. She tugged on the string to be sure the oilcloth was secure. “It has one of the purest tones of any instrument I have heard.” There was a fondness in her voice as she put her fore hoof through the lute’s strap, then swung it onto her back. “I can see that,” Shark Fin told her. “So, Lyric, whaddayeh do?” he asked as she prepared to leave the tavern. Lyric’s ears perked as she put a hoof to her chest and dipped her head, saying, “I am a humble travelling bard, venturing across Equestria to share my songs and stories with the inhabitants of this land.” “A young’un like yehrself, goin’ off all on yehr own?” Before Lyric could protest, Shark Fin startled her by banging a hoof on the table before him. “Yeh remind me of me when I was yehr age!” Without pause, he said, “So, I’m bettin’ yeh’ll be lookin’ for a place teh stay tonight, that right?” “I, well, yes,” Lyric stammered out, “though I have collected enough bits to stay at the inn.” “Nonsense!” Shark Fin exclaimed. “Yeh’re comin’ with me, an’ that’s that.” Lyric gawked as the odd stallion turned towards the tavern’s door and made his way through the crowd. Lyric almost let him get away from her. Almost. She trotted after him, catching up just before the door closed behind him. He was waiting for her. “Started teh think maybe yeh weren’t comin’ after all,” he called above the gale. Lyric’s eyes watered. “C’mon, it’s this way.” He set off down a wide, dirt path that ran through the center of the seaside town. Besides the inn across from the tavern and some scattered buildings of varying sizes, the path was empty. Not surprising on a night like tonight, Lyric thought as another gust assailed her, her mane flying into her face, her tail flapping about. Her cloak felt as if it were about to rip away in the wind’s wake, even as she held it against her body. After an indeterminable length of time, Shark Fin stepped off of the main path onto another, well-hidden amongst the scrub grass and barely visible in the dark. The stallion’s steps were steady as the path sloped gently downwards, and Lyric did her best to follow close behind. A black expanse dotted with white crests that danced in the dark soon came into view. As they drew closer, the sound of waves lapping on the shore rose to Lyric’s ears, and the scent of brine bloomed in her nostrils. Lyric looked along the sandy coast, but there was no habitation that she could see. Shark Fin, however, kept moving, and Lyric galloped along the beach to catch up to him. She found that he was stepping onto a pier, and tied to the end of the pier was something strange. It was not quite a house, for it had the bottom of a boat. But it was not a boat, either, for what would have been the upper decks were shaped like a house. Shark Fin leapt from the pier onto the main deck. Lyric hesitated, but, after backing up and taking a running start, she swiftly landed by Shark Fin’s side. He whistled again. “I was gonna lower a plank for yeh, but that weren’t too shabby.” He opened a door leading to the house part of the structure. “Well, c’mon in,” he said, and stepped inside. Lyric paused once more, but entered after him. It was dark, though the stallion lit a few lanterns. The interior was decorated with fishing nets and buoys, ships’ wheels and wooden carvings, all along the walls. Even the lanterns were of the kind to be found on a ship. Lyric marvelled at the sight. “Yeh like it?” Shark Fin asked her. “I do,” Lyric told him. “There must be so much history here.” “There sure is,” Shark Fin replied. “But go sit over by the stove for a bit, alright? Yeh’re shiverin’ somethin’ fierce.” It was then that Lyric realized just how cold she was. Her limbs, while not numb, were tingling, and her teeth chattered. She sidled over to the stove and slid her lute off of her back. While she made herself comfortable, Shark Fin shoveled wood chips into the stove’s open belly. As he struck a match and tossed it in, he also tossed a bundle of cloth Lyric’s way. “It’ll only take a few minutes teh warm up, but yeh look like yeh could use this now,” he told her, closing the metal door. Lyric held up the cloth and wrapped it around herself. As she did, she realized that it, too, was a cloak. In the dim light, she could see that the outside was either a brown or reddish color, and the inner lining was some shade of purple. It was much warmer than the one she was wearing. “Thank you, Shark Fin,” she said. “Bah, think nothin’ of it. An’ like I said, my friends call me ‘Finner’.” “Alright then, Finner,” Lyric replied with a chuckle. He beamed in return, and made his way over to a kitchen area. Opening an ice box, Finner called, “So, Lyric, if yeh don’t mind my askin’, what made yeh change yehr mind?” “About what?” Lyric called back, rubbing her hooves. “Followin’ me.” Finner opened a cabinet and pulled out two bowls, then grabbed a ladle to spoon soup into them. He kicked the door to the ice box closed, and carried the bowls over to the stove, setting them on the now-warm metal. “Back there, in the tavern, yeh didn’t seem so sure.” “Well…” Lyric peered into the dancing flames, forming her response. “You know about stories, and I presume you know something of music as well if you can recognize an instrument as rare as mine. Besides, it seems that you have plenty of stories of your own.” “That I do,” Finner told her, sitting beside her, handing her a bowl once it had been heated. “But who says I ain’t a scoundrel, just waitin’ teh take yehr bits while yeh sleep?” Lyric held the bowl between her hooves. “I’ve travelled quite a bit and seen all sorts of folks. I doubt you are that type.” She smirked. “Besides, even if you were, now I know to hide them.” Finner gave a barking laugh at that, slapping his haunch. Lyric joined him in his merriment. Soon, though, his laugh became a wracking cough, one which shook his entire body. With a worried gasp, Lyric patted his back. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” Finner told her through wheezing breaths. “Can yeh fetch me a glass of water?” Lyric hurried over to the cabinets, searching through each one until she found a cup. Holding it under the faucet, she put a hoof to the pump attached to the sink, fresh water pouring out as she worked. Returning to Finner, she placed the glass in his hoof. “Thanks,” he murmured. He drank slowly, carefully, so as not to set off another coughing fit, Lyric assumed. “Aaah, that’s better,” he said as the last drop disappeared down his throat. He wiped his lips. “Are you sure you are well?” “Yeah, it happens sometimes. I’ll be fine, honest.” “Alright…” Lyric was unconvinced, but she did not pursue the matter. The two ate their dinners in silence. When they had finished, Finner stood up. “If yeh’re tired, I can show yeh where yeh’ll be sleepin’.” “Yes, please,” Lyric told him, stifling a yawn. Finner pointed to a curtain hanging from the ceiling. “Back there’s a bunk. It ain’t much, but yeh’re welcome to it.” Hiding another yawn behind her hoof, Lyric gave her thanks. As she stood, the cloak she had borrowed slid from her shoulders to the floor. She bent to pick it up, holding it out to Finner. He pushed it back towards her. “Nah, keep it. I ain’t got no use for it. 'Sides,” he said, motioning towards the cloak she wore now, “that thing’s about ready to fall apart on yeh.” Lyric gaped. “Are you certain?” “Course I am!” Finner declared. “I mean, it ain’t got a hood, but it should serve yeh well.” Now his eyes and lips softened as he said, “Plus, it’ll be nice teh see it get some use again.” Unsure of how to respond, Lyric held the cloak for a moment longer before making her way to the bunk. Pulling back the curtain, the moonlight shone upon her through a round window. Lyric took off her worn and tattered garment, giving it a long look before setting it aside. She hung her new cloak on a hook above her pillow and lay down. As she rolled over, she pulled the blankets over her and closed her eyes. It was not long before the rocking of the water and the songs of sea birds lulled her to sleep.