#molly mane

[ao3statistics]

This is self-made. Date: 05.09.2024

Alan Scott was the first Green Lantern before Hal Jordan btw.

OMC = Original Male Character

I assume no guarantee or liability for the completeness, correctness and accuracy of this chart despite my best efforts.

Includes fanfictions in all languages available on Ao3, NOT English only.

Includes all fandoms connected to the name "Alan Scott.

Percentages were rounded up or rounded down to natural numbers for easier comprehension.

Poly ships were included.

More charts will follow. :)

Want to have a chart for different pairings, headcanons etc. in your favourite fandom? Send me an ask!

[violetterainbows]

Unitober Day Twenty-Six!!

Crossover!! Fictional Influencer Video Chat!!

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue May 1974

Charly Stember wears a shirt-jacket and drawstring skirt in a red and navy cotton scarf print on cream, a navy jersey tank top. Participation of Morty Sussman for Mollie Parnis Boutique. Jacket and skirt, cotton Manes Fabrics; top, William Heller Dacron- and wool knit.

Charly Stember porte une chemise-veste et une jupe à cordon de serrage dans un imprimé foulard en coton rouge et bleu marine sur crème, un débardeur en jersey bleu marine. Participation de Morty Sussman pour Mollie Parnis Boutique. Veste et jupe, coton Manes Fabrics; haut, William Heller Dacron- et tricot de laine.

Photo Mike Reinhardt vogue archive

[mammoth-clangen]

Behold! Big Kitties!

I wanted to make one of these for fun mostly, also because I wanted to slightly update how I draw the Fleets to fit the Homotherium mummy; mostly in the lack of carpal pads and that brown is the wildtype colour uvu

Notes that didn't fit: - Eye colours can be anything natural-looking except in Ice Fangs, which are always blue (that's actually where their name comes from) - None of the colour variants are sexually dimorphic (though some may be sex linked) - All species can be fluffier than shown here (especially in winter), I just shaved them here to show the varied anatomy - All the cats probably have a melanistic and albino variant but there aren't any in Kindred so I didn't include them - I'm never gonna draw the characters in Kindred with detailed patterns as shown here, that would take 554637 hours per page cx

Don't @ me about paleo inaccuracies bc there's a lot of intentional exaggerations e.g. how variable they can be, for the sake of making characters actually fun to work with + the Tuft Tails are basically just lions because their skeletal anatomy is sooooo similar but bigger (and lions are pretty)

Image ID

"Kindred of the Mammoth- Pleistocene big cats"

Fleet Fang- Homotherium serum. Tireless hunters of the steppe. Male: Tom Female: Molly Nonbinary: Motte Young: Cub Grouping: Kindred A drawing in a slightly more realistic style than Kindred of a brown Fleet Fang with green eyes and extensive barring running down her sides. There is a headshot of a tom with shaggy grey and white fur, who has his mouth open in a slight pant to show dental anatomy. Notes read: "Inverted neck hackle Patterns run laterally. Tufted ears Heart-shaped nose. All teeth are serrated No carpal pad Claws don't retract fully Skin usually dull pink Paler under-tail No sexual dimorphism Huge incisors, tiny lower canines Tundra morphs shaggy and pale grey" There are a few natural variants shown as well: dilute few spots, joined-barring (lateral stripes instead of broken spots), Open-saddle ginger, melanistic with paler grey markings.

Ice Fang- Smilodon fatalis ssp. Powerful hunters of the north. Male: Boar Female: Sow Nonbinary: Urs Young: Cub Grouping: Sounder A drawing in a slightly more realistic style than Kindred of a white, grey striped Ice Fang with blue eyes . There is a headshot of a boar with pale golden fur and a darker beard under his neck. He has his mouth open in a slight pant to show dental anatomy. Notes read: False eyes on small ears Powerful neck/shoulders Vertical stripes Very short tail Bear-like lower lip Only sabers are serrated Very large dewclaws Skin usually dull pink/brown Boars have a goat-like 'beard'. Wide nose, sideways nostrils. Huge incisors, tiny lower canines. There are a few natural variants shown as well: Faded stripes with a pale warm grey coat, Few stripes only on the shoulders and rump, Tawny morph with broken stripes (they form vertical bars), Abundism- heavy stripes that are interlocking and covering the whole body.

Tuft Tail- Panthera leo atrox Coordinated hunters of the plains. Male: Lion Female: Lioness Nonbinary: Leo Young: Cub Grouping: Pride A drawing in a slightly more realistic style than Kindred of a golden tawny Tuft tail (lioness) with amber eyes. There is a headshot of a lion with greyish fur and a tawny underbelly. He also has a darker mane around his neck. He has his mouth open in a slight pant to show dental anatomy. Notes read: Larger ears Long, flexible spine Nose darkens with age Robust non-serrated teeth Dark pawpads Patternless or faintly spotted Long, tufted tail Lions have a mane (but less full than African Lions) Lions much heavier than lionesses. There are a few natural variants shown as well: Completely spottless warm grey with a tawny underbelly, orxy type dark markings that outline the paler underbelly, retained juvenile spots and a reddish tint, fully grey morph that is entirely desaturated.

A note at the bottom reads: Kindred of the Mammoth, art, and these speculative depictions belong to PencilPavlova [END ID]

[bunnelbaby]

Here’s a list of children’s shows for girl regressors/girl dreamers to enjoy!

(Disclaimer: Much like my list of recommendations for boy(d)res, anyone is welcome to enjoy these shows regardless of how they identify! This is simply a list of series I sense that girl(d)res would like to check out.)

𐐪𐑂 Gabby’s Dollhouse

𐐪𐑂 Jessica’s Big Little World

𐐪𐑂 Elena of Avalor

𐐪𐑂 Sofia the First

𐐪𐑂 Nella the Princess Knight

𐐪𐑂 Ariel

𐐪𐑂 Molly of Denali

𐐪𐑂 Alma’s Way

𐐪𐑂 Rosie’s Rules

𐐪𐑂 Mia and Me

𐐪𐑂 Rainbow Bubblegem

𐐪𐑂 Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur

𐐪𐑂 Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure

𐐪𐑂 Miraculous Ladybug

𐐪𐑂 Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts

𐐪𐑂 Hilda

𐐪𐑂 Jentry Chau Vs. The Underworld

𐐪𐑂 Dee & Friends in Oz

𐐪𐑂 Dew Drop Diaries

𐐪𐑂 Ada Twist, Scientist

𐐪𐑂 Monster High

𐐪𐑂 Rainbow High

𐐪𐑂 Ever After High

𐐪𐑂 Mermaid High

𐐪𐑂 Supernatural Academy

𐐪𐑂 Unicorn Academy

𐐪𐑂 Lalaloopsy

𐐪𐑂 Barbie

𐐪𐑂 Bratz

𐐪𐑂 Enchantimals

𐐪𐑂 Mira, Royal Detective

𐐪𐑂 Alice’s Wonderland Bakery

𐐪𐑂 Kiya & the Kimoja Heroes

𐐪𐑂 Minnie’s Bow-Toons

𐐪𐑂 Butterbean’s Café

𐐪𐑂 Zoobles!

𐐪𐑂 DC Super Hero Girls

𐐪𐑂 Carmen Sandiego

𐐪𐑂 Star Darlings

𐐪𐑂 Princess Starla and the Jewel Riders

𐐪𐑂 Jem and the Holograms

𐐪𐑂 Angel’s Friends

𐐪𐑂 Rainbow Rangers

𐐪𐑂 Charlie and Lola

𐐪𐑂 Sunny Day

𐐪𐑂 Polly Pocket

𐐪𐑂 Puppy in My Pocket: Adventures in Pocketville

𐐪𐑂 Abby Hatcher

𐐪𐑂 Angelina Ballerina

𐐪𐑂 PopPixie

𐐪𐑂 Mermaid Magic

𐐪𐑂 Princess Tutu

𐐪𐑂 Tokyo Mew Mew

𐐪𐑂 Catch! Teenieping

𐐪𐑂 Flowering Heart

𐐪𐑂 Komi Witch Lara

𐐪𐑂 Tea Tea Cherry

𐐪𐑂 Rainbow Ruby

𐐪𐑂 Littlest Pet Shop: A World of Our Own

𐐪𐑂 Whisker Haven: Tales with the Palace Pets

𐐪𐑂 Wild Manes

𐐪𐑂 Ridley Jones

𐐪𐑂 Harvey Street Kids

𐐪𐑂 Luna Petunia

𐐪𐑂 Vida the Vet

𐐪𐑂 Fancy Nancy

𐐪𐑂 Esme & Roy

𐐪𐑂 Doc McStuffins

𐐪𐑂 Pinkalicious & Peteriffic

𐐪𐑂 W.I.T.C.H.

𐐪𐑂 Winx Club

𐐪𐑂 Cardcaptor Sakura

𐐪𐑂 Jewelpet

𐐪𐑂 Ojamajo Doremi

𐐪𐑂 Revolutionary Girl Utena

𐐪𐑂 Precure

𐐪𐑂 Sailor Moon

𐐪𐑂 Hi Hi Puffy Amiyumi

𐐪𐑂 Strawberry Shortcake

𐐪𐑂 My Little Pony

𐐪𐑂 Care Bears

𐐪𐑂 Fantasy Patrol

𐐪𐑂 Kindi Kids

𐐪𐑂 Sadie Sparks

𐐪𐑂 Magic Mixies

𐐪𐑂 Chip and Potato

𐐪𐑂 Shopkins

𐐪𐑂 She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

𐐪𐑂 RWBY

𐐪𐑂 Princess Power

𐐪𐑂 Kitti Katz

𐐪𐑂 LEGO Elves: Secrets of Elvendale

𐐪𐑂 LEGO Friends

𐐪𐑂 Shimmer and Shine

𐐪𐑂 Little Charmers

𐐪𐑂 True and the Rainbow Kingdom

(Divider Credit)

[cryptidclaw]

Yellowfang!

Design Notes:

An Adjusted + improved version of my previous design!

She is a dilute tortie bec she has big tortie vibes and also it explains her name!

Character Bio:

Yellowfang

Molly; she/her

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 10 cycles, 7 moons; ~53 Hyrs

Title meaning: -fang = a cat who is very skilled in battle; they have powerful teeth and jaws and have a biting centric fighting style; this cat is out spoken and have a bite to their words; may have distinctive teeth, most likely extra large or sharp

Warrior -> Healer of Shadow Order -> Healer of Thunder Order

Mentors: Deerleap (Warrior); Sagewhisker (Healer)

Mother: Brightflower

Father: Brackenfoot

Siblings: Nutwhisker; Redberry; Mint; Marigold

Adoptive Sibling: Tallpoppy

Ex-Mate: Star Raggedpelt

Kits: Star Brokenheart; Hope; Wish

Grandkits: Littlecloud; Wetfoot; Brown

Other notable kin: Swampfur (nephew); Blossom (niece); Oak (nephew); Ciderfur (nephew); Stumpytail (nephew); Turtleshell (adoptive niece); Toadfoot (adoptive nephew); Apple (adoptive niece; Marshpatch (adoptive nephew)

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Yellowfang from Warrior Cats. She is standing with her left side showing, her right paw is raised, and she had a displeased, grumpy scowl on her face. She is a large, stout, long furred molly with a squashed Persian-like face and mustache like long fur on her muzzle. She is a gray and yellow tortoiseshell with yellow patches mostly o her flank and the left side of her face and fluffy mane. She has large yellow fangs front her lower jaw, and pink claw scars running across her face and on her side. she has several green leaves and yellow flowers adorning her pelt as well./End ID]

[achromant]

AND HERE WE ARE! My project for the gw2 'zine!

Featuring Baruhn, reflecting on his life so far, the challenges, the small sparks of joy, the horrors, loss and gain.

For clarification's sake; I did in fact plan to depict every stage of Baruhn's life, but uuh. File was already too big.

Might do a series of short comics (graphic novels?) though, because i fking love storytelling.

Let's look at my idiotic level of detail a bit, eh?

[Long Text Ahead]

Baruhn's story begins in the Plains of Ashford. An unsuccessful attempt to stem the tide of Ascalonian Ghosts leads to the demise of many year-long allies. Dozens of brave soldiers gave their life for a mere week of peace until the ghosts reformed. They always do. Soldiers don't.

Shaken in his faith in the Legions, the first seeds of doubt arise.

Until finally he found someone to trust with his pain. In a tavern at the edge of the Black Citadel, he gets to know this odd fellow, who is continuosly follow by the faint smell of sulfur. Although Baruhn knew where that path led, the warmth radiating from the old veteran in front of him was not only a physical, but an emotional one.

With the Three Legions busy with their internal quarrels, fighting over an empty promise, Baruhn took the first steps down a previously thought to be dark path.

Surprisingly, die Flame Legion was welcoming, their fires offered light and guidance, the embers igniting the skies like stars. Surely this was better than the cold metal over the Black Citadel.

Baruhn took to learning first, handling the small flames with ease after years of throwing fireballs at ghostly shapes. Then, he figured out how to teach, and that is where the real magic comes from. Nurturing a flame, protecting it from harsh winds, adding a bit of kindling and coal here and there. He even taught the more elusive ways of magic that wield smoke and ash.

Baruhn knew about the war, the countless lifes lost on the other side of the fence. But those were humans, and here he was among family.

That is, until he met Molly.

After a small recon mission that was assured not to be much of a hurdle, Baruhn found himself alone in a forest. The small fires he conjured for light and warmth only drew in the nearby villagers. Those with pitchforks and torches, with crude swords and a thirst for blood. He couldn't really bring himself to hate them, this was war after all. But at what cost are these battles to be won?

Trying to escape the villagers was a futile attempt. He sank to the ground, his own hot blood dousing the little flames beneath his weary head.

For some reason - maybe hope, maybe resignation - he forced open his heavy eyes, only to discover his wounds cleaned and bandaged with fragile white cloth. A small human girl, of all things in this damned forest, tried to help. Even in his weakened state, even with just one hand, Baruhn could have easily grabbed her and cracked her skull. But the only thing he did was listen. He listened to the ramblings of the small human, going on and on about faries made of leaves and gnomes of stone. She called him "bear".

When the villagers came, they saw the girl at his side. That was all it took for them to turn on her. She was to be executed like that beast that now slowly stepped in front of her. For the first time, Baruhn spoke to the girl. "close your eyes."

Fire roared, not red, not orange. not a warm, welcoming fire. Not one that belongs in a hearth, that thrives in the arms of a family. This was so much worse. This was years of inner conflict, of doubt, of closing his eyes on the other side of the fence. For the first time in his life, this was the only thing that he wanted to do, protect the little insignificant human behind him. Fire roared, and it burned wood and it burned flesh.

Baruhn picked up the little girl, she held tight to his horns, nestled in his mane. He ran for hours, years of military training finally useful. The little girl, Molly, lost her mother years ago. She burned in the fires of a war she tried to escape. "And your father? What about your family?", he asked between deep breaths. Molly was quiet for a while, then whispered, her voice barely audible, "My father burned today."

They stayed together, for quite a while. He protected her, and she, with her head full of stories, and a book full of dreams, protected him.

Things came, things went. Baruhn rejoined the High Legions, acting as a spy for Ash, keeping an eye on Iron and Blood.

Baruhn ultimately took on his role as Novice, then Archivist, then Commander. He helped during the struggles against Scarlet. A small flame here and there, some shrouding smoke, a well timed lightning strike. It was other people that finally defeated Scarlet, but he was always in the background, with all the small things at just the right time.

Mordremoth came, but with him new allies.

It was but a small tangent in the grand scheme of things. Watching the fragile sapling while waging war on the jungle itself.

Their relation was something more than friendship, something else than love. They were there for each other when they needed to be. Be it only to keep a flame burning or to banish the voices to the back of the head again, they walked the same path for a long time.

Tarir, the Egg. Aurene. A new flame entrusted to him, his to nurture, his to raise. A gamble, again. What if that little flame would some day devour the world? But Baruhn did, what he could do best. Teach.

Darker times came. Caudecus and the White Mantle. The raid on the Mursaat's prison. Then facing the last Mursaat himself.

Balthazar came, and in his wake a new kind of fire. A war, similar to the ones Baruhn had seen before, but still different. A war without a cause, war for war's sake. War against nature, against the world, like a child lashing out when there were none to help them up. Maybe Balthazar's flames were not too different from his.

After the festering swamp that Joko was, came the mountain, Kralkatorrik. Death was not a hindrance anymore, not for the Commander and his dragon. The story went as the story goes.

When it came to face the frost, the whispers, Jormag. Everything fell apart. Jormag pried into the deepest, darkest corners of Baruhn's life, dragged every doubt, small as it may have been, into the light. In the ice, every truth was warped, encased in whispers, in lies. It suffocated any hope and planted even darker seeds than anyone thought possible.

It was the spirit of the Raven that aided Baruhn. Even the black feathers of its wings were shimmering like rainbows in the moonlight.

A small piece stayed with him, just a fragment. Nevermore.

After that, the stars themselves. Astralaria.

So many stories that make a life, so many pieces. Every encounter, every step along the way is another fragment of the whole. People are made of other people, that is what it means to be alive.

[artsy-hobbitses]

Is there a pet squad? It seems like every time I see something new about a character, it that they end up with a pet. So like the pet avengers or dc superpers version in ties that bind au a possible thing? Also who on both sides has a pet?

I DID NOT INTEND MOST OF THEM but animals just. Happen to some of these folks XDXD

Lesse...

AUTOBOTS:

Esmeralda the cat (Prowl and Jazz) - Jazz brought her back during one of his missions, Prowl basically became the dad who's like "I don't want pet" and a month later has her riding on his shoulders.

Dakshi the ovcharka (Kup) - Big dumb, big fun and big monstrous when you get him in the mood. Usually found roughousing with the Wreckers.

Molly the cattle dog (Ironhide) - Little dynamo of a dog, absolutely bouncing off the walls since she has no cattle to HERD NOW so she herds people instead.

Dunedan the Irish Setter (Mirage) - An old gentleman like his owner and Mirage's sightdog during hunts.

Avalon's Renaissance the horse (Mirage) - A riding horse who has seen better days and now enjoys leisurely canters with her master through the woods of Alpha Trion's estate.

Bigwig the rabbit (Bumblebee) - Is a gift to Bee from Optimus! Is also a right bastard to anyone not Bee, Bee's friends or OP.

An assortment of medical leeches (Ratchet) Many are named, mostly off famous vampires, and they live in a tempest prognosticator he had specially made for them.

A flock of pigeons (Optimus Prime) All are named and wear tags. OP doesn't have a favorite, and refers to them as his Mantiq Altair.

A murder of crows (Drift) They are not individually named, since Drift doesn't really consider them pets in a traditional sense, he simply feeds them and they see him as a human friend and bring him little gifts as such. However, he does refer to them affectionately as "The Crass Ones", because Sludge once asked him what these birds are called (he has some speech issues from the experimentation done on him and is working on remembering names of things around him) and while Drift told Sludge they were crows, he also told Sludge they were known as 'Karasu' in his language. Sludge misconstrued it as 'crass', became distressed and gently asked them to be kind to the nice man feeding them, and Drift found that so sweet/funny that the name stuck.

Tabiba the dove (First Aid) - A gift for First Aid from her uncle, Hotspot, when she graduated medical school.

Serpico the German Shepherd (Nightbeat) - Was the K9 Nightbeat worked most often with while he was a cop, and when he left to go underground/work from the shadows, he 'liberated' Serpico and Serpico chose to go with him rather than stay at the precinct. Is Nightbeat's scenthound and 'bodyguard' during stakeouts.

Lelaps and Boudicca the Maned-subtype Turbofoxes (Alpha Trion) - These were former sentry hounds of the Quintessons and were freed/reprogrammed by the Primes to help them instead.

DECEPTICONS

Old Fella the Pit Bull (Barricade) - Was rescued from an illegal fighting pit, and has long passed his best days. Was intended to be rehomed, but Barricade grew too attached to him, and with Megatron's blessings, decided to keep him instead.

Najmina the falcon (Skywarp) - Skywarp's pride and joy, and his scout during recon missions.

Buster the Jack Russell (Thundercracker) Your standard Jack Russell Terrorist so named because she would bust everyone's balls (her original name was 'Ballbuster') at Marissa Fairborne's base. With Marissa's encouragement, was adopted by Thundercracker who was feeling lost after leaving the Decepticons and needed an 'anchor'/something to care for while he figured out a new purpose in life.

Mollica the British Shorthair cat (Nickel) - One of those "there is a cat in my house, I do not own a cat" situations. This thing just sauntered into the DJD's quarters, almost slapped Tarn's mask off when he grabbed her and Nickel immediately fell in love and insisted on keeping her if only for her audacity. Her being around Tarn has not endeared him to her one bit

Graymalkin the Sphynx cat (Starscream) - Post war, adopted by Starscream as a companion.

[harryissuchalittleshit]

The next gen kids and...

- who they look like the most (which parent)?

- who are they like the most when it comes to personality (which parent)?

- who (except their parents) are they simillar to?

Victoire

Victoire looks a lot like Fleur when she’s younger and grows to look like her Tante Gabrielle, especially after having children. She’s tall and beautiful, and she grows into her curves and figure.

I would say her personality is a lot like Bill’s and he hates it lol. She’s a rebel with a cause and also a mother hen to her siblings. She does come off as a bit standoffish like Fleur can, but she means well in the end.

I would say she is the most like Ginny, headstrong and stubborn and not afraid to fight for her own rights and happiness.

Dominique

She looks so much like Fleur, just throw on some freckles and a wild mass of red curls she likes to call her lion mane. She is tiny and is often mistaken for being the premee baby of her siblings, not the one that was over ten pounds.

She is just like Bill, a Weasley through and through. She makes fast and rash decisions and it does bite her in the ass, but she grows from it

Speaking of which, I would say she is most like Percy. When it comes down to it, he is defined by his two biggest moments in canon, leaving and coming back. Dominique is made of the same stuff, fitting for the godfather/goddaughter duo

Louis

If you held up a photo of Louis and Bill at sixteen, even Molly would have trouble telling who was who.

He is quiet and calm and delicate, Fleur’s baby through and through. He loves art and to dance and to live his life the way he wants to, even if he has to burn some bridges

Not only is he named after Charlie, they are great friends and pen pals. Louis takes after Charlie like a duck to water and they both enjoy it

Molly

She looks like Audrey, but with those Weasley freckles and brown eyes and that unmistakable shade of gingery-orange hair. Really she and Lucy are the perfect mix of their parents

Molly is so bright and happy and hopeful, very much like her mother and the Hufflepuffs she finds kinship with. She has had so much pain and sadness thrown on her that she needs some happiness and lightness in her life

She’s like George, they both have this warmth and happiness they can bring out of themselves while also holding onto a deep trauma

Lucy

She looks like Percy the same way Molly looks like Audrey. She does have Audrey’s blue eyes but Percy’s eyesight and she does tend to walk a little taller than she really is, but sometimes she needs that extra confidence

Lucy is very emotional, she’ll cry at the drop of a pin and her moods change so quickly from happy to sad to confused to happy to angry, she tends to just let everything out because for so long Molly didn’t or couldn’t

Lucy takes after her “Uncle” Oliver Wood, one of her dad’s closest friends and quite the emotional man (when it comes to his Quidditch team lol)

Freddie

He looks like George, a bit tanner and a little taller, but he looks just like George.

Freddie is a bit troublesome, but not as bad as his dad. He’s playful and silly, but has a tendency to doubt himself at times. He loves deeply and fiercely and will fight for those he does love. He’s a good son to his parents even if he made them grandparents much too young

He takes after Ron really, his confidence goes up and down and he can crack a good joke while being in love with the smartest girl he knows

Roxanne

She looks like her Aunt Roxie, but with some dark red curls she loves to braid and play with

Like her brother she is a bit troublesome and does have some confidence issues. Her issues manifest into a horrible eating disorder and an abusive relationship, but through a lot of work and love she comes out on top

I really feel like she takes after Hermione, she’s stubborn and headstrong and used to being listened to as the smartest person in the room, but her insecurities do hold her back at times

Rose

She looks like Ron, red hair and blue eyes, freckles and that playful smile, but Hermione’s curls and her short stature

Her personality is a great mix of her parents, the good and the bad. She also tends to mother hen her cousins, which they jump on and take advantage of at times

She takes after Harry, he’s her godfather and uncle and in many ways her third parent. She learns so much from him and he’s a great source of comfort to her

Hugo

He looks like Hermione, but he does have the Weasley red hair and he’s sooo tall, the tallest of the Weasley grandsons with only Louis within inches of him

He’s happy, he’s hyper, he loves to have fun and joke around but come exam times, his head is in the books and won’t come out until it’s all over. He is very competitive, but who can blame him when he wants to be the smartest person despite his set backs

He’s like Fred, funny and sweet but sometimes with a mean streak that he hates and a hyperness that holds him back until he overcomes it

James

James is the perfect mix of Harry and Ginny, he has the messy red hair and tan skin and brown eyes and freckles and lanky limbs that are both Potter and Weasley

He is definitely a goof ball, but also has a heart of gold. He is protective and loving and often doesn’t think before he talks, but it doesn’t matter because he’s so good and honest to those he loves. He has made his mistakes, but he honors them and lives up to his names and the men his mother named him after

He is very much like Bill, taking the weight of all the family in his shoulders with pride and love even if he sometimes puts his foot in his mouth

Al

He looks just like Harry, but he had freckles on his nose and cheeks and it reminds Ginny of Fred. She will never compare her second son’s looks to Harry, always her brothers

Al is dramatic and moody and always rolling his eyes, but he loves his family and gets along with everyone despite his dramatics. Rose is his ride or die and she is the reason he made it to adulthood and he knows it

Honestly, I want to say he’s most like Ginny, but if I can’t pick a parent I would say Percy. He is a bit high strung and prideful, he’s ambitious and wanting from the world, but his family comes first over and over and over again

Lily

Merlin she looks like Ginny, she has hazel eyes like her grandfather James and can’t see anything closer than her outstretched hand without her glasses, but honestly she and Ginny could be twins if they were the same age

She is a bit of a brat, being the only girl in her immediate family and then the youngest granddaughter, she takes full advantage of being the baby. But she does grow up and levels out and becomes more than just her wants. She ends up finding a peacefulness in being unknown and called out on her more selfish behavior, and it’s good for her to see reality a bit

He takes after her Grandad Arthur, taking interest in something small but oh so important to her and finding her own ways to be brave and just in front of not only herself and others. She also takes a bit of happiness in hiding away at times, even if she’s always watching

Bonus:

Scorpius

He looks like Draco, but Astoria’s features have made there way in. It’s in the slight tan of his skin tone and the curls of his white blond hair, but otherwise he is all Malfoy

He is literally the kindest and sweetest person, sure he’s also ambitious and cunning, but people notice his presence through his polite and kind demeanor

He takes after Theodore Nott, who has proven himself to be kind and wholesome and a great father. He loves every lost child that comes into his home and has made his home open and accessible to anyone that needs a place to stay, but especially his children’s friends

[rambleyrambles]

Hey buddies!

What's up with Mollie in Chapter 1?

There's a couple different things I wanna cover, so bear with me as I ramble on a little bit to figure out where to start. Like, I've got something I haven't seen others mention, a few theories tied to it, and other speculation. So I guess I should start with that appearance?

Also note: I'm not going to be going over the mascots as a whole here. They definitely need something all to themselves, so maybe I'll ramble about that some other time.

And just so we don't get too long and clog anyone's dash~💜✨

So! A Mollie thing I haven't seen anyone else talk about!

Well, the other day I saw this post, and as you can see by my tags (under the little "info" tab at the top) I was planning on playing again to see it for myself. I can confirm that exists, and I'll get back around to that in a little bit.

Having played through the game a few times, I've been slowly getting accustomed to the sound of Mollie's voice and I've been trying to make out the words she says. So imagine my surprise when I heard her in the section before where I thought she first appeared in the queue to Rambley's Railroad! You can hear her very faintly in the background repeating the words "set up" after Rambley directs you to the gift shop for your Critter Cuff. (Can be heard here. I've linked to Rambley's last line so you can hear how she mimics it.)

To me, this sorta brings into question how long Mollie was watching Ed. I mean, before it seemed like she happened to be in the railroad's area and was sneakily watching you after you stumbled into the area she was occupying, but now? Now we know she was outside in that starting area. Granted, she sounds kind of distant unlike when we hear her "Closed for repairs" after Rambley and Finley's interaction, but that doesn't mean too much because the little "Hey buddy" she lets out in Lloyd's Mane Stage when she leans around the door to storage. (As demonstrated in the video I linked, you can turn on your way to storage and see her right away once you hear her.)

Now that I've written all those mimicry bits down, it feels a little weird that she mimics only Rambley, especially given she's not directly repeating him when she appears at the end of the hallway in the Mane Stage. Rambley does say it in that area, but it's not in that same call and response manner like the other two. Something to think about.

With all this in mind, I think it's plausible that Mollie could have seen Ed before the first encounter in Rambley's Railroad.

How soon does Mollie know Ed's there?

This is more speculation on my part, as the earliest I can definitively say is the Critter Cuff mimicry being around when she likely notices him. That being said, we do have a gear that falls at a suspicious timing.

That being said, if you've seen David Baron's video on his beta test footage, you'll notice the gear was already there from the start. He makes the suggestion that the gear be out of the way and fall from somewhere above when it's needed so it doesn't confuse the player. It could be argued that that's all that is, but I'd like to point out the whole suggestion was for the gear to fall when Rambley tried and failed to open the door, thus causing the building to shake due to failing equipment just enough for the gear to fall. The timing we see in the final game does not match that. (Whole video can be found here.)

I think it's not out of the realm of possibility that Mollie could have known about Ed's presence the whole time, and could be the reason the gear falls in the first place. It's suspicious enough timing, and I'm not sure what Rambley himself could do to make it fall unless you want to argue something about having a mechanism up there, but this is a pretty specific situation he'd have machinery to deal with considering there's not supposed to be a hole in the ceiling there to begin with.

What Mollie's motivation for helping would be... I'm less sure about that. Especially as it related to my next point.

Did Mollie sabotage the mechanisms we needed to fix?

This is in reference to the Indigo Violet Generator from getting in the front gate, and the machine backstage that we needed to fix in lieu of getting an introduction to Salem. Before realizing Mollie was in the beginning area, only one of them was anywhere near her, so pulling any lines to correlate her and them just didn't make sense. With her being heard in that first area now though...

I think it's possible that she could've been the cause of the gears being out of place. She's present in and around where both are and we don't see any others like it in the chapter.

It's especially interesting because one is in the backstage area for Rambley's Railroad, where we see her pop in and out of while we're on the ride. One could even argue that she could have sabotaged that area while we were already on the ride, though that's between hard and impossible to prove at this point in time.

What makes Mollie aggressive?

While not exactly tying into my previous points perfectly well, I do think the fact that she's so passive and just follows you around until the very end is strange. When she shows up in Lloyd's part of the train ride, Mollie is quite literally within grabbing range of you. If she wished you ill will, surely she could have done something then?

If you want to argue that Rambley was right there at that point, might I raise her appearance in the Mane Stage. As far as we're aware, Rambley might not have been able to see her there, so there's no reason for her to hold back. Lloyd was fended off with a high pitched noise from the Critter Cuff, but it's long stopped doing that by the time you potentially see her after you leave, and that's only if you see her after you leave.

Mollie doesn't get aggressive until you're far into her area, and about to head further in. It's only then that she properly gets in your way with the intent to rip Ed's throat out. So is there something in there?

(It can be argued that Lloyd is similar. Even when it'd potentially be easier for him to attack, he moves away. That's a post for another day though.)

Beyond any narrative design decisions for how to get the player to Oceanic Odyssey after getting spooked by a lurking threat; I have to wonder if there's an in-universe reason for why Mollie stalks along so passively before turning into a threat in that spot.

Is there something beyond the door she came through that is important to her? Is she trying to protect something? Is that just an area she considered private/safe/hers so this is something territorial? Is there something she wants to protect? Is there someone?

The last one is unlikely, but it's interesting to think about, if nothing else.

Final Thoughts 💜

While this isn't an exhaustive list of everything about Mollie, I feel this is a solid base for discussion or to at least think about. I mean, I barely touched on her mimicry as a whole. There's a whole box of interesting lines with all sorts of interesting implications! Unfortunately, I don't really know how to dig through game files to find them all and listen to them on loop until I understand them, so I'm stuck trying to understand them over the loud - but absolutely a banger - chase music.

All in all, I hope I gave you all something to think about!

Bye for now, buddies!~

[skyscratch-wc]

Skyfall: Windpaw Shire ItW

Windpaw Shire Allegiances as of Into the Wild

Shire Leadership:

Thegn: Tallhorizon, a short haired black and white bicolor tom with tall ears and a long tail. He has yellow eyes, a long muzzle, and a small, thin build. His parents were Palebird and Sandgorse and his littermate was Finch. His younger half-siblings are Wrenflight, Bristlebark, Fly, and Rabbit. His former mate was Jake. His mentor was Dawnstripe and his apprentice was Smokefoot. He was a hunter as a churl.

Reeve: Smokefoot, a short-furred very dark gray tom with blue eyes and limp left forepaw. His left ear is nicked and he has a muscular build. His parents are Meadowslip and Hickorynose and his half siblings are Sorrelshine and Pigeonflight. His mate is Ashfoot and their sons are Eagle and Hill. He was a hunter as a churl. His mentor was Tallhorizon and his apprentice is Rabbit.

Guilders:

Physician: Barkface, a mid-furred brown classic tabby tom with yellow eyes and a very short tail. He has a broad, but very small, build. His parents were Redclaw and Brackenwing and his brother was Shrewclaw. His mentor was Hawkheart.

Priest: Kitefeather, a long haired tortoiseshell molly with green eyes and tufted ears. She has a broad build. Her mate is Oatwhisker. Her mentor was Flailfoot.

Mortician: Doespring, a short haired light brown molly with blue eyes. She has a lanky build. Her parents are Hareflight and Mistmouse and her siblings are Stagleap and Ryestalk. Her mentor was Flamepelt.

Scribe: Drizzlenose, a short haired gray and white patched tom with a fluffy white mane. He has blue eyes and is heavy set. His mates are Sorrelshine and Stagleap and his daughter with Sorrelshine is Sky. His mentor was Whiteberry.

Master Churls:

Master Hunter: Ryestalk, a mid-furred gray tabby molly with amber eyes. She has a thick, broad build. Her parents were Hareflight and Mistmouse and her siblings are Stagleap and Doespring. Her mate was the late Shrewclaw and their kits are Mudclaw and Ouzelwing. Her mentor was Reedfeather and her apprentice was Wrenflight.

Master Artisan: Oatwhisker, a short haired light brown classic tabby tom with a long muzzle and tall ears. He has amber eyes and a lanky build. His mate is Kitefeather. His mentor was Brackenwing and his apprentice was Flowerleap.

Master Roamer: Crowfur, a short haired very dark gray tom with tall ears, a long graying muzzle, and amber eyes. He has a skinny build. His mate is Rushtail and their daughter is Ashfoot. His apprentice was Cloudrunner.

Master Caregiver: Morningflower, a mid-furred calico molly with orange eyes and tufted ears. She has a lanky build. Her parents are Cloudrunner and Wrenflight and her younger brother is Peat. Her mate is Ouzelwing and she is pregnant with his kits. Her mentor as a tunneler was Palebird. She had no caregiving mentor.

Master Lorekeeper: Cresspelt, a mid-furred reddish-brown trans tom with green eyes and a fluffy mane. He has a broad build. He was a farm cat who joined the shire and took the name Cress. His mate is Webfoot. His mentor was Mistmouse and his apprentice is White.

Master Tunneler: Webfoot, a mid-furred dark gray and white mackerel tabby tom with dark orange eyes and a webbed left forepaw. He has a broad, lithe build. His mate is Cresspelt. His mentor was Woollytail and his apprentice is Peat.

Churls:

Meadowslip, a short haired pale gray molly with amber eyes. She has a thin build. Her former mates were Mole and Hickorynose. She had an older litter of Smokefoot with Hickorynose and then a younger litter of Sorrelshine and Pigeonflight with Mole. She is an elder, but was an artisan. Her apprentice was Bristlenose.

Mistmouse, a short haired light brown tabby molly with blue eyes. She has a small, broad build. Her mate was Hareflight and her kits are Ryestalk, Stagleap, and Doespring. She is an elder, but was a lorekeeper. Her apprentice was Cresspelt.

Woollytail, a long-furred fluffy gray and white bicolor tom with yellow eyes and an especially bushy tail. He has a heavy build. His mate is the late Palebird and his kits are Wrenflight, Bristlenose, Fly, and Rabbit. He is an elder, but he was a tunneler. His mentor was Plumclaw and his apprentice was Webfoot.

Stagleap, a short haired brown tabby tom with orange eyes. He has a heavy build. His parents are Hareflight and Mistmouse and his siblings are Ryestalk and Doespring. His mates are Drizzlenose and Sorrelshine and his adopted daughter is Sky. He is a hunter. His mentor was Redclaw and his apprentice was Mudclaw.

Wrenflight, a mid-furred light brown molly with amber eyes and ear tufts. She has a fluffy white mane and a lanky build. Her parents are Woollytail and Palebird and her littermate is Bristlenose. Her older half brother is Tallhorizon and her younger siblings are Rabbit and Fly. Her mate is Cloudrunner and her kits are Morningflower and Peat. She is a hunter. Her mentor was Ryestalk.

Bristlenose, a long furred black and white tom with yellow eyes. He has a muscular build. His parents are Woollytail and Palebird and his littermate is Wrenflight. His older half brother is Tallhorizon and his younger siblings are Rabbit and Fly. He is an artisan. His mentor was Meadowslip.

Mudclaw, a short haired dark brown classic tabby tom with amber eyes. He has a nicked right ear and scarring on his left shoulder. He has a broad build. His parents are Ryestalk and Shrewclaw and his brother is Ouzelwing. He is a hunter. His mentor was Stagleap.

Ouzelwing, a short haired gray classic tabby tom with blue eyes. He has scars on his face around his left eye, throat, right foreleg, and belly.  He is blind in his left eye and his left ear is torn. He has a lanky but broad build. His parents are Ryestalk and Shrewclaw and his brother is Mudclaw. His mate is Morningflower and she is currently pregnant with their kits. He is a hunter. His mentor was Aspenfall.

Ashfoot, a mid-furred light gray pointed molly with blue eyes and tall ears. She has very fluffy chest fur and a lithe build. Her parents are Crowfur and Rushtail. Her mate is Smokefoot and their kits are Eagle and Hill. She is a hunter. Her mentor was Appledawn.

Pigeonflight, a mid-furred dark gray and white cat with amber eyes and ear tufts. They have a lithe build. Their parents are Meadowslip and Mole and their sister is Sorrelshine. Their half brother is Smokefoot. They are a tunneler. Their mentor was Webfoot.

Sorrelshine, a short haired dilute brown and gray tortoiseshell molly with yellow eyes. She has a lanky, thin build. Her parents are Mole and Meadowslip and her littermate is Pigeonflight. Her older half brother is Smokefoot. Her mates are Drizzlenose and Stagleap and her daughter with Drizzlenose is Sky. She is a roamer. Her mentor was Cloudrunner and her apprentice is Fly.

Apprentices:

Peat, a mid-furred golden brown tabby tom with yellow eyes. He has a lanky, broad build. His parents are Wrenflight and Cloudrunner and his older sister is Morningflower. He is training to be a tunneler under Webfoot. He is 9 moons old.

Rabbit, a short haired light brown and white molly with yellow eyes. She has a thin build. Her parents are Palebird and Woollytail and her littermate is Fly. Her oldest half sibling is Tallhorizon and her older siblings are Wrenflight and Bristlenose. She is training to be a hunter under Smokefoot. She is 8 moons old.

Fly, a short haired brown and white tom with green eyes. He has a lithe build. His parents are Palebird and Woollytail and his littermate is Rabbit. His oldest half siblings is Tallhorizon and his older siblings are Wrenflight and Bristlenose. He is training to be a roamer under Sorrelshine. He is 8 moons old.

Sky, a short haired white molly with yellow eyes. She has a small, thin build. Her parents are Sorrelshine and Drizzlenose, and her adopted bonus dad is Stagleap. She is training to be a lorekeeper under Cresspelt. She is 7 moons old.

Kittens:

Eagle, a mid-furred dark gray tom with lighter highlights and blue eyes. His parents are Ashfoot and Smokefoot and his littermate is Hill. He is 2 moons old.

Hill, a short haired pointed gray tom with pale blue eyes. His parents are Ashfoot and Smokefoot and his littermate is Eagle. He is 2 moons old.

-----

Notes:

Cats who have different names from canon:

Talltail -> Tallhorizon

Deadfoot -> Smokefoot

Bristlebark -> Bristlenose

Tornear -> Ouzelwing

Onewhisker -> Peat(whisker)

Whitetail -> (White)sky

Cats who are "revived" kittens:

Hill, based on Hillkit, a canonical kitten of Ashfoot and Deadfoot who is Crowfeather and Downkit's littermate. I have shifted his age forward and made him Eagle's littermate

Cats who are based on unnamed background characters to fill in the clan population:

Kitefeather

Drizzlenose

Cresspelt

Cats who have a different gender than canon:

Pigeonflight -> nonbinary (they/them)

Peat -> currently identifies as a tom, but as an adult will identify as a demiboy and use he/they pronouns

WindClan canonically has very very few named characters prior to the later arcs, so I had to fill in the gaps a lot. Tallstar's Revenge did not introduce nearly as many kitten littermates as other super editions or novellas did, so I had to add some canonically unnamed background cats to pad out the population.

[omori-headspace]

sorry hold on

okay. so. horror siblings. but mane six. please im autisming

Thomas Greywhinder -> Twilight Sparkle

i can see him being stressed about the littlest of things. i mean. look at the photo of him. and also i didnt have a more suitable fit for twilight. soooo

2. Macy Greywhinder -> Rainbow Dash

iirc she's very excitable and she seems like the type to do the type of shit rainbow dash does. she also has mabel pines energy. which is moreso pinkie pie energy but pinkie pies honor goes to someone else. and. no one else fit. if she was anypony else she would be pinkie tho

3. Edward Walten -> Applejack

come on man. just come ON. he is clearly the eldest of the group- him being 11 or 12 in canon, and all the other kids are around the 6-8 age range. so i think ed is the guy to keep people in check and also seems like the honest type? idk. mother hen of the group i guess

4. Molly Walten -> Pinkie Pie

i'on even need to say anything.

5. Elizabeth Afton -> Rarity

yes yes i KNOW she is more pinkie pie (or most notably sweetie belle) energy but LISTEN. she is totally the type to make a fuss about her hair. like look at her. i also headcanon the aftons to be dedicated to their reputation and maybe are above middle class in terms of wealth, so she has high standards on her beauty. shes also the type to be a fashion designer one day

6. Evan Afton -> Fluttershy

again. i do NOT need to say anything. its just how it is

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

COWBOY TIM HEADCANONS!!!!! 👀👀👀

Good LORD has cowboy Tim been in my damn head!! I love your requests sm <3

COWBOY TIM HEADCANNONS

He has probably about 4 horses since they all obviously have to do a job and we’ll get into that later

But his main lady is Charlotte, Lottie for short

She’s a brown and white paint horse with a lovely black and white mane

He braids her hair and takes such good care of her, like literally his close companion in the world

He also has two horses for more heavy duty work Jesse and Cash. Both big black Percheron work horses

And for when miss Lotte’s under the weather he has Molly, a nice grey and white spotted quarter horse

Used to work for other farmers on their ranches hearding cattle and fixing fences and other broken items but now he has a large piece of land for himself

He’s more interested in raising livestock than farming

Has all sorts of animals including cows, chickens, and pigs.

Gets up at the crack of dawn to have his morning coffee and a hearty breakfast

Red flannels and blue jeans are his go to

Occasionally chaps if he’s really feeling himself

He wears brown steel toe boots with a cream colored cowboy hat

He DEFINITELY goes to rodeos, he participates in either steer wrestling or tie down roping

Either way he’s going and competing with Charlotte

In his free time he also enjoy breaking horses for people who may need them

If he likes you he’ll get you a matching hat and he’ll happily break a horse for you to call your own

Teaches you how to ride horses (let’s you ride Charlotte 🤭)

HORSE PICTURES!!

Charlotte

Jesse & Cash

Molly

I bet y’all can tell I’m from the Midwest after this post 💀💀

[say-hwaet]

That's the Way it Is

Chapter Eighteen: To Sow the Fields Next Chapter: Nineteen Summary: Now that the Morgans are restored as they should be, Arthur and Kit must decide how they plan to leave, and who might want to go with them. And Kit, being her thoughtful self, wants to plant the seeds. Word Count: ~9,600 Warnings: Mature themes, language, innuendo

After putting your clothes back on, Arthur’s mouth follows yours to the door. Relishing in the last few seconds, you have to push him off before closing his bedroom door in his face. Turning around, you walk carefully to the stairs. About halfway down, you begin to wish that you had just escaped from Arthur’s balcony instead, but it is too late now, not to mention that if you were to return back to Arthur, he might not let you leave his sights.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and just as you reach for the door, you hear a soft voice speak to you.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You freeze in your stride, turning to see Molly, sitting in the corner of the room, looking out the window. Even before the gang had moved to Shady Belle, Molly had been a sullen shadow. Arthur told you about the fights that she and Dutch have had, and now she spends most of her time rambling to herself and not engaging with anyone.

You pity her. You remember Annabelle, and with only the pieces that Arthur has filled you in on, you know that Dutch’s feelings towards Molly fail in comparison. It isn’t her fault.

You take a step towards her, your heart twisting with empathy. “Molly,” you say softly, careful not to startle her further into her solitude. “I just got back last night. I escaped Saint Denis.”

She looks up at you, her eyes a mixture of surprise and cautions relief. It’s clear that she has been worried about something, maybe even you. “Escaped?” Her voice has a trembling note to it, like the strings of a fiddle stretched too tight.

You nod, stepping closer toward her as she sits on the floor, the wooden floorboards creaking, even under your weight. "It was chaotic," you confess, keeping your voice low so as not to wake up anyone else. “I wouldn’t recommend going to any of the mayor’s parties.” You try to make a joke, but it seems to fall flat.

“I used to love balls,” she admits, hugging her knees as she brings them to her chest. “My Da would spare no expense back in Ireland.” Molly's eyes momentarily brighten with the reflection of nostalgia, but just as quickly, they dim again, her gaze falling to the lace of her dress. "But that's all gone now." Her voice carries a tinge of bitterness, mingled with resignation.

You reach out, bending down and placing a hand gently over hers. “That doesn’t mean they can’t ever happen again.”

She scoffs bitterly at your words. “Not in this place.”

You think about taking a risk and suggest she leave. Maybe if not with you, but on her own. She’s young, she’s beautiful, and there has to be a way for her to find safety elsewhere. It is clear that she’s unhappy here.

You squeeze her hand once and wait for her eyes to meet yours. “Then maybe it isn’t here, but somewhere else.”

Your words seem to weigh heavily on her, stirring something in the depth of her melancholic eyes that sparks a glimmer of possibility, however faint. She stares at you for a long, silent moment, as if trying to decipher whether hope is merely an illusion or a tangible thing she can grasp.

And you rise back up, and turn to head outside.

Everything is quiet and still outside, the sun rising. You need to establish a story of how you got back here, and so you make quick steps towards the outskirts of camp. You pass the bridge of the dried-up moat, and instead of continuing on, you stop to see your horses.

First, you go to meet Odliv. As you approach, she turns her large head toward you, her eyes a soft pool of recognition and warmth. The sight of her brings a small comfort to your troubled heart. You reach out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brush through her silken mane, feeling the solidity of her presence grounding.

“I missed you, Odliv,” you say softly. “I hope you haven’t been giving Kieran a hard time.”

She tosses her head, as though shaking her head no.

You give her a good pat. “I didn’t think so.” Looking around her, you see the shire mare that you had stolen from the Grays, her gentle eyes watching you. You really haven’t had the time to bond with her, and you can only hope that it isn’t too late to start now. 

Your hands move to the mare's broad neck, running over her glossy coat. Her muscle ripples softly under your touch, and she seems to lean into your hand. "Guess we'll need to find a name for you, won't we?" you murmur, wondering why such a task feels so monumental now. It's as if every simple decision branches into thousands, each laden with the weight of your past and the uncertainty of your future.

You take a deep breath, the warm morning air filling your lungs, mingling with the scent of horse and the earthy dampness that heralds the start of a new day. The sun's rays begin to peek through the trees surrounding Shady Belle, and in it, a proverb you remember your mother saying, speaks in your mind.

Ráno je moudřejší než večer.

“The morning is wiser than the evening,” you say softly with a smile. Looking at the shire mare and her dark coat, you think you have a new name for her. “I’ll call you Večer,” you say to her. “You will be my evening, my solace after a long day.”

As you linger with Večer, your mind wanders back to the days before. Days filled with laughter and whispers under starlit skies, conversations punctuated by the soft nickers of curious horses. You remember how Arthur would often join you among them, how his presence seemed to both unsettle and anchor you at the same time. Those were the times when life was a blend of shadows and light, of peril and promise.

You remember one evening in particular, the air crisp and the campfire crackling its own secrets as the two of you sat close, but not too close—the unspoken rule of stolen moments. Arthur had been talking softly, recounting a tale from one of the jobs he pulled back when he first joined the gang. His words were rough around the edges, but his voice carried a warmth that felt like a blanket wrapped around you in the cold night.

"You know, Kit, it ain't always about the big scores or the guns blazin'," he says, looking into the fire but his thoughts clearly somewhere distant. "Sometimes, it's about the quiet moments in between...like this one right here." His hand gestures subtly between the two of you, a small smile playing on his lips.

You smile, and just in the deeper part of the camp, you can hear Abigail humming softly, lulling her little boy to sleep. It is such a contrast to working for the gang, pulling cons and taking names, fleeing from bounties inflicted on those you ride with.

Your eyes drift to Arthur's face, illuminated by the flickering orange light, shadows dancing across his strong features. The world seems to slow down, the crackling fire the only sound filling the silence between you. You hadn't realized how much you needed this tranquility, a reprieve from the chaos that had become your life.

“I agree…” And while your hands are resting beside each other you subtly link your pinky with his, letting the small touch linger just long enough for him to notice but not long enough to make a spectacle of it. His eyes flicker down, a hint of surprise and something tender in his gaze before he looks back at the fire. The action speaks in volumes what words can't quite capture—the mutual acknowledgment of something deeper, something that you both have vowed to keep secret and not dare risk expressing out loud.

“Kitka…?”

You hear someone call out to you softly and so you step away from Večer to look around her.

And there, coming back into camp, is Kieran and Mary Beth.

What were they doing at this hour? The sight of Kieran and Mary Beth walking back into camp at such an early hour sends a prickle of curiosity up your spine. The early morning usually brings rest or grumbled moans of risers, not quiet rendezvous between those you wouldn't expect. Kieran catches your gaze first, his expression sheepish as if caught in an act yet to be understood. But then you see a fishing pole in his hand, and Mary Beth holds up a string of freshly caught fish, her cheeks flushed from the cold or perhaps the thrill of their secret escapade. 

"Thought we'd surprise everyone with breakfast this morning,” she says, her voice lilting with a mix of mischief and pride. “But I am more happy to see you here!” She turns to hand Kieran the string before hurrying over to you, slowing her steps as she approaches to avoid scaring your horses. “Dutch said you were on a job and you wouldn’t be back for a while.”

Your brow furrows. “A while?”

She nods, and sensing your confusion, her smile fades. “Yes, he did. Did it not work out?”

Your mind races, evaluating Mary Beth’s words against what you knew to be true. It was never the plan for you to be gone for a long time. The plan was for you to get out of there as soon as Bronte was satisfied. It unsettles you, the discrepancy between what was said and what is.

Troubled thoughts begin circling in your head like vultures around prey, but you see the look in Mary Beth’s eyes. You don’t want to worry her, but you don’t want to lie to her.

You shake your head. “It didn’t work out the way Dutch had planned it, but that doesn’t mean it failed.”

She blinks. “What do you mean?”

You had just tried to plant a seed in Molly’s mind for her to leave this place and now you are faced again with another temptation to do the same with Mary Beth and Kieran. If Dutch is lying about simple things like the plans with Bronte, what else has he lied about?

You swallow thickly, trying to think of the best way to tell her. “Bronte is not who we thought he was. He was worse.”

Mary Beth's eyebrows draw together in concern, her features tightening. "Worse? How so?" she asks, her voice dropping to a hushed tone that barely breaks the quiet of the night. Her gaze flits to Kieran who has since approached and stood by, fishing pole and string still in hand, looking equally puzzled and anxious.

You sigh. “He tried to kill me, Mary Beth.” And as she gasps softly you hold out your hands. “But don’t worry. He won’t be a threat to any of us anymore.” Your words hang in the air, heavy like the fog settling around the camp.

Mary Beth clutches her chest, a look of horror etching across her face.

Kieran's jaw tightens, his eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and understanding that no person should harbor. "Kitka, what... what happened?"

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter now, what matters is that Dutch isn’t finished in Saint Denis, and I have a feeling that though Bronte is dead, the threat will still linger. A viper’s bite is still venomous, even if the head is cut off.”

You watch as both Mary Beth and Kieran digest your words, the weight of the situation pressing down upon their shoulders. The unease clings to the air like a damp cloth, and you feel it seeping into your bones. You know that confiding in them risks unsettling their spirits further, but secrets in this gang are often more dangerous than the truth.

Mary Beth takes a deep breath, steadying herself against the uncertainty that ripples through her expression. "If what Dutch is doing is dangerous, what are you going to do?" Her voice trembles slightly, revealing the fear that underpins her question.

You look at her, then at Kieran. “Me?”

Mary Beth shrugs. “Well…you and Hosea always came up with good ideas. And Arthur…he always has a way to sort things out when they go sideways.” Her eyes flicker with a trace of hope, a spark that fights against the encroaching shadows.

You look at Večer, trying to let your mind focus on what the next step would be. Well, you know what it is, but you need to talk to Arthur about it more. You’ve said too much already.

You meet Mary Beth’s eyes again. “I don’t know…but just…be careful. Keep your eyes open, especially when you leave camp.”

Mary Beth looks at Kieran and then back at you. “We…we did hear something while we had gone fishing. Like someone was following us.”

Kieran nods. “It was Mary Beth who noticed. She cut our fishin’ trip short because of it.” And after seeing your expression he holds up his hand with the fishing pole. “W-we lost ‘em in the trees! Promise! We took a long way around back to camp.”

You then shift the conversation, grinning slyly. “So, what would you have done when there was no more fish to catch, hmm?”

Kieran’s face turns beet red, and he clears his throat. “Oh—I…erm…”

Mary Beth, on the other hand, quickly avoids your gaze, pulling her shawl up tight around her neck as she quickens her pace toward her tent.

Kieran takes this as his cue to leave and with a polite nod, he hurries into camp to deliver the fish to Pearson’s wagon.

You shake your head, smiling faintly at their hurried departures. Young love in the midst of turmoil always had a way of being both sweet and heartbreakingly fragile. Your thoughts meander back to Arthur, the memory of his rough hands clasped around yours on cooler nights alone in the woods emerging with a pang in your chest.

You start to hear sounds coming from the camp and looking back towards the mansion, you see Pearson approaching the cooking fire with a pot of coffee and he sets it down on the coals. People are waking up.

You see Susan, dressed and ready for work, taking a cloth and wiping off the table. Charles takes the axe and starts chopping wood. Uncle moves from his spot at the gazebo and moves to a tree to sit under. It’s like a dance, each playing their own part. 

You linger for a moment, watching the camp slowly come to life, each member falling into their respective roles with practiced ease. It reminds you of your days in the circus, how every morning felt like a meticulously choreographed routine, each performer knowing exactly where to be at the precise moment.

With a deep breath, you turn away from Večer and Odliv and return to camp. 

And just as you near camp, you see Dutch coming out of the mansion.

“Hosea!” he calls out into the morning. “We got some plannin’ to—” His sentence is cut off as soon as his eyes fall on you once you cross the bridge.

You wave, acting as candid as you can muster. “Hello, Dutch.”

You know now that he wasn’t expecting you to return, as it is evidenced in his shocked face. Dutch's expression smooths over almost instantly, shifting into a calculated smile as he strides toward you with his usual charm. "Kit, my dear," he starts, his voice dripping with feigned warmth, "don’t tell me that Bronte sent you back to us already. What could possibly have happened?”

You tilt your head slightly, studying him, and decide to let him have the blow, but subtly. “There was a house fire.”

Dutch's eyebrows shoot up, a flicker of frustration passing over his features before he regains his composure. "A fire?" he repeats, his tone shifting as he glances over your shoulder, perhaps checking if you have returned alone. "You ain't hurt, are you?"

You shake your head, feeling the air around you thicken. “It is like you said, Dutch,” and you pause before continuing. “I could do it even with my eyes closed.”

His eyes narrow at you. “What about Bronte?”

And you come out with it. “He’s dead.”

You hear the usual ambient sounds of camp pause at your words, telling you that there are other ears tuning into your conversation. But your eyes remain trained on Dutch. 

You expect him to be surprised, even with a hint of it in his brow. “Dead, you say? That's a real shame,” he muses, but the glint in his eye suggests his thoughts are already miles away, planning the next move in this ever-complicated chess game he plays with the lives of those around him.

“Indeed,” you agree, a hint of dryness in your tone that you doubt he notices. “It’ll change things, won’t it?”

Dutch claps his hands together once, as if to seal the fate of the matter with a single gesture. “Indeed, it will,” he says, his eyes gleaming with an almost predatory anticipation. "Change is always good for us—it's how we survive, how we thrive." He pauses, studying you as if you were a curious specimen he had yet to fully understand. "But let's talk about you, Kit. What are your plans now? You've proven yourself more than capable, as always."

He’s testing you, you know it. He’s always been about loyalty, but not the kind a daughter gives to a father, but blind loyalty, like a dog to its master. You know better than to show all your cards, especially now, when everything's so fragile.

“I believe I’ll do what I do best, Dutch. Seems like there’s plenty of work to be done," you respond cautiously, your gaze unwavering as it meets his. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to read you just as much as you are trying to read him. 

He taught you too well. 

And after a moment, he nods his head slowly. “Indeed there is work to be done,” and his eyes flicker to Hosea as he walks over with a cup of coffee in his hand, his steps quick. “and soon there will be more of it.”

Hosea addresses you, his voice sharp and laced with concern. “Kit…! How did you get here?” You can tell by his tone, that he was worried for your well-being, like Arthur was. “Did Bronte—?”

And before you can speak, Dutch cuts you off. “Kit has just told me that our greatest obstacle has been removed by fate herself.”

Hosea’s eyes widen, looking at you with a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Kit, is that true?" His voice drops to a worried whisper as he glances from you to Dutch, seeking confirmation or perhaps a denial.

You nod slowly, not finding the will or the words to offer anything further. Hosea's shock does not fade, but he sets his jaw and nods with a resigned understanding. "I see," he murmurs, his eyes now filled with a new wariness as he sips his coffee, the silence more loud than any question he could ask you.

Dutch, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, claps his hands together once more, breaking the tension like a crack of a whip. “Well, Hosea! This means we need to speed up our plans.” He turns around heading back inside, his time outdoors short-lived. “We are going to take Saint Denis, and we are going to find paradise…!”

You and Hosea look at each other, the intensity in his gaze, his mouth opening as though to speak, all the while knowing what you know, and what you and Arthur had shared just hours ago.

You want to tell him, but now isn’t the time. You now have more of a reason to leave, before Dutch wraps anyone into his plans and damns you all.

You reach a hand and squeeze Hosea’s arm. “I will talk to you later, then.”

He nods, his shoulders relaxing on the promise of a future conversation, though his eyes still hold a flicker of unease. "Be careful, Kit," he advises softly, his voice heavy with unspoken understanding. You nod, your mind fraught with the decision you carry in your heart.

As Hosea turns to follow Dutch back inside, you stand alone for a moment, waiting for the gang to resume their work before you move or do anything else. 

No one has come to greet you or ask what happened. Not that you are offended, but surprised. Dutch really was telling everyone not to expect you back. 

And they believed him. 

Arthur had his doubts, Hosea did as well, why didn’t they express them to anyone else? What were they expecting to happen? Did they have a plan of their own? 

You’ll have to ask Hosea when Dutch is finished with him. For now, you will resume camp life as usual. You need to act like nothing has changed, like your loyalty to Dutch hasn’t wavered. 

Like you are still a piece in his game. 

***

“Here, Karen,” you grunt as you lean over to hand her a pair of pants you just scrubbed. 

Wordlessly, she takes it from you and wrings it good one time, her grip strong and her face twisting at the slight exertion, before she hangs them on a makeshift clothesline. You go to the next item which is one of Bill’s plaid shirts. 

Bill. Your demolition buddy. You know how he feels about Dutch, how indebted he feels. You’ve managed to recall one or two memories of him, both when you and he had to blow something up. You usually handled the wire, and he secured the dynamite. You would sometimes argue about who got to push down on the plunger, but that part didn’t matter. 

It was the results. 

That was earlier, when he had first joined the gang, and roles shifted after a while. You mainly became the distraction while he’d man the dynamite, though somehow that was still the thing you and he would talk about when he wasn’t drinking. 

Would he want to leave the gang? Leave Dutch? 

You don’t know if you have the answer, or maybe you’re afraid of what the answer is. 

You scrub away the thought along with Bill’s shirt and you get into a rhythm when you hear footfalls walk in step with your scrubbing. 

“Mornin’, Arthur,” Karen says calmly. 

You quickly look up and see your husband. His eyes meet yours and he holds something tightly rolled in his hands. 

His wool blanket. 

“Erm…” he says and as you realize what he’s about to ask, you feel your cheeks burn. “You think you could wash this?”

You try not to look over at Karen, who has her eyes fixed on you. You smile nonchalantly and nod. “Sure, Arthur.”

He nods his thanks and offers it to you, still tightly bundled. You don’t bother to get up, but quickly take it from him and submerge it in your wash basin. “Thanks.”

“You know,” you begin to tentatively say. “You probably should have this thing washed more often.” Your eyes flicker up to him before looking down at the blanket. “The humidity makes everyone sweat like horses.”

Arthur takes a gentle step back, resting his hands on his gun belt. “Don’t have to.”

Finishing Bill’s shirt, you hand it to Karen. “And why’s that?”

You can hear the timbre in his voice, though it’s only subtle enough for you to detect. “‘Cause I’m a workhorse, not a prized pony.” And when your eyes shoot up at him, you see how calm he looks, as though he had said the most normal thing between two people. “Need only wash anythin’ when you’ve worked up a good sweat.” And then he tips his hat at you. “Ladies…” and he walks away. 

The brazenness of his words still has you frozen, the color flushed from your face. Did he really just say that in front of one of the most risqué members of the gang? 

You’re too nervous to look, but you slowly turn your head to look up at Karen. 

She’s turned away from you, but you can see her biting her lip as she tries to suppress her laughter. 

You think it best to leave it, but your damned curiosity... 

“What’s so funny, Karen?”

She shakes her head. “You’re so innocent, Kit, even with all them performances you’ve done.” She finishes hanging Bill’s shirt, as she had been pretending to work while eavesdropping. “If you ain’t figured it out yet…” she pauses to settle the giggle building in her throat. “You will.” Then she turns to look at you and must think you look like a deer in crosshairs, for she explains, “He wants you, Kit.” And she grins. “Bad, flauntin’ himself like that.” 

Oh, you’re far from innocent, but it’s almost pleasing to think that the guise is still going strong. You aren’t sure how you were able to keep a straight face with any of Arthur’s teasing after you got married, if he’s talking to you like this. But, then again, you might not have had very long before the Blackwater massacre. 

It’s then that you realize that it was shortly before the ferry heist that you and Arthur snuck away to tie your lives together. Your marriage was still new, so freshly made when it all happened. You’ve come a long way from where you started, having recovered quite a bit of your memories. You wish you had them all laid out and you could arrange them in chronological order, everything leading up to the massacre. That’s the one thing you hope to remember, you just aren’t sure what it will take to trigger it. 

But all you can think about is Arthur, and the way he made you feel on your wedding night, last night, even, as though it were the first time all over again. Remembering is far different than feeling, and you have a good feeling that you will never forget it, as Arthur promised you wouldn’t. 

You try to calm the heat in your cheek by distracting yourself. You roll up your sleeves again. “Thank you for spelling it out for me, Karen,” you say calmly. “But I think our relationship is a bit different than how you want it to be.”

It is, but you’re not about to explain exactly how.

She snorts. “If you say so. Don’t take an expert to know the basic needs of men and women. Sean and I—” she cuts herself off and exhales slowly. “Hell, I miss him.” She looks down. “Drove me to drink when he was alive and even when he’s dead.”

You look up at her softly, eyes deep with empathy. “I worry about you, Karen.”

She scoffs at your attempt at sentiment. “You just worry about yourself. No sense in wastin’ it on me.”

“Karen…anything in excess is dangerous. Especially liquor.”

Her brow lowers, but she doesn’t argue with you or snap some snide remark in defense. “Ain’t got nothin’ else better to do. Nothin’ to look forward to.”

You tilt your head. Does she really believe that? “What about Tahiti? Don’t mangoes and sandy beaches sound nice?” You don’t think so, but it’s better to have false hope than none at all. 

She snorts and you instantly regret asking. “Sounds like make-believe.”

Well, anything far away sounds like it was made up. But you know Czechoslovakia is real, and that is farther away than you’ve ever thought the world could stretch until you saw maps. Encyclopedias. Worlds opening up to you in the books you’ve read.

“Maybe it is,” you admit. “But I know what isn’t.”

“And what’s that?”

“Family. Friends. I’ve found that my home is where my people are. The people I care about.” You begin to scrub the wool blanket and swallow down the heat in your belly as you try to suppress the memory of what was just done on it several hours ago. “When my brother died, I had no one. Until Hosea found me.” You look up and toward the part of camp in front of you. Pearson is already at work cutting up the fish that Mary Beth and Kieran caught this morning. “If Tahiti doesn’t exist, maybe there’s paradise closer by.”

Karen doesn’t laugh, snicker, or scoff at your remark. She remains quiet and doesn’t say anything more, and so you both quietly resume the duty of laundry without speaking. 

***

A sudden thundering of horse hooves alerts you as you carry feed for the horses. Looking up, you see Micah, riding in and sliding Baylock to a halt. He quickly dismounts and quickens his steps into camp. He doesn’t seem to notice you, and you don’t care to announce your presence. Your eyes follow him as he hurries toward the mansion just as Hosea and Dutch step out. 

Now, you want to be involved. Setting the hay down, you brush off your dress and make your way back into the camp. 

“Dutch!” Micah says. “Bronte, he’s—”

“I know he’s dead, Micah,” Dutch interrupts and you make it over in time to see the intensity in his eyes. “It seems like someone wasn’t doing their job.”

Micah lifts his hands. “Weren’t me, boss. You know I had my own job to do. Bronte was a weak man, anyone could have killed him.”

He doesn’t reply, but you see Dutch’s eyes move to you as you stand behind Micah. That’s when Micah turns around and sees you. 

“Anyone is right, Mr. Bell,” you say coldly, crossing your arms over your chest. “I suppose you weren’t expecting me so soon, either?”

You see the look in Hosea’s eyes as the gears turn in his mind. He looks at Dutch, then back at you again. 

Micah’s eyes narrow at you. “You were supposed to be gettin’ dirt on Bronte. Schmoozin’ up to him.”

You click your tongue and speak with a lilt in your voice. “Can’t really do that when he’s dead now, can I?”

“And how did he manage to do that?”

You don’t answer, but fix your gaze intently at him, refusing to be the first to look away. 

“How did you find out he’s dead, Micah?” Hosea asks. “Is that where you’ve been? Saint Denis?”

Micah's demeanor suddenly changes, a flicker of unease in his eyes. But it changes, his smirk returning. "Folks talk, you know that. News travels fast."

Hosea is about to open his mouth, but Dutch cuts him off. “There. You see? Everyone knows now that Bronte is dead, which means that we need to take our chance before someone else does.” He turns to Hosea. “You go ahead with your little plan with Trelawny and pick some people to meet him.” Then he looks at Micah. “Micah and I have some reconnaissance to do on our own.” His gaze finally lands on you, and there's a softening in his eyes that wasn't there before. “Kit, I need you to lay low for a while. Too many are talking, and we don’t want any unnecessary attention.”

You don’t say anything. Even you know that you are capable of hiding in plain sight, more than anyone else at camp. After all, nobody can really pin down that it was you who killed Bronte anyway. Dutch might suspect it, but you don’t care.

As Dutch turns away to speak to Micah, leaving his orders hanging in the air, your eyes meet Hosea’s. Perhaps maybe now is the time to talk to him privately about your plans.

“Go find Arthur,” Hosea says. “Then meet me at the gazebo.”

You nod once, sternly, not giving away the emotion swirling in your chest. Your heart throbs painfully at the mention of Arthur's name. The thought of seeing him, even now under these tumultuous circumstances, sends a shiver down your spine.

You make your way silently through the camp. As you walk, the dirt beneath your feet feels damp and warm, characteristic of this Southern region. You see Sadie as she takes her gun and walks to her post for guard duty and she nods to you. You nod back, somehow sensing her dutiful understanding of the day's weight. Her gaze is sharp, like a hawk eyeing its prey, ready to protect what she holds dear. You appreciate her intensity—it echoes something restless within you.

Your path leads you out of the bustling activity of camp life, towards the quieter outskirts of the marshes. The grass becomes less as mud becomes more, and you spot a shack at the edge of camp. There, leaning against the railing, is Arthur as he talks to Strauss.

Oh. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken to him. 

Your eyes are drawn to Arthur, how his back arches as he leans, his arms folded across his chest. The afternoon light casts shadows across his face, highlighting the rugged contours that speak of years of battling both nature and men. His voice, deep and carrying, breaks through the murkiness of your thoughts. You pause a moment, feet sinking slightly into the soft earth, wondering if this is the right moment. But then Arthur looks up, catching sight of you. His conversation with Strauss pauses, and there's a flicker of something in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat, and a warm sensation fills your abdomen.

You need to get rid of Strauss and fast.

“Ah, good afternoon, fraulein,” Strauss greets. “How’s your memory retrieval coming along?”

You walk to the shack, taking careful steps up to the deck where they stand.

"Hello, Strauss," you manage, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "It's coming along. Slow but sure." You avoid Arthur's gaze, feeling it burn into you like the morning sun.

Strauss seems pleased with this. “Ah, good! I’ve been eager to start business again. When we go to Australia, we will need some income to support our ranching down there.”

You and Arthur turn to Strauss, brows pinched as you both speak at the same time. “Australia?”

Strauss nods. “Why, yes!”

Arthur leans away from the railing, keeping his arms folded. “I thought it was Tahiti.”

Strauss smiles smugly. “For now. I think after talking to Dutch, he might see that Australia is a better option. The land is more suitable for people like us.”

You see this as your opportunity. “Well, don’t stand here trying to convince us, go talk to him right now.”

Strauss hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Very well, I shall speak to Dutch immediately.” He tips his hat and strides off, leaving you alone with Arthur.

Your heart pounds as you watch the little shrew walk down into the marsh and disappear around the corner. The air between you and Arthur thickens as the silence stretches on. You can feel Arthur studying your face, the intensity of his gaze almost too much for you to bear.

“Well, woman, are you just gonna stand there, or—”

His voice cuts off when you take him by surprise by grabbing him firmly by his shirt, nearly dragging him around the other side of the shack. He doesn’t resist you, perhaps still caught off guard by your sudden ferocity, or pleasantly curious as to what will happen next. 

Once you reach the other side you force him against the wall and, firmly clasping his neck, you pull him towards you and kiss him with a newfound hunger, desperate and raw. Your lips move against each other fiercely, a mingling of desire, longing, and a torrent of suppressed emotions flooding through you both. Arthur’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until there's no space left between you.

When you finally break apart for air, your breath is haggard as you look into his eyes and then down at his lips half-lidded. “How dare you torture me like that in front of Karen, with no ability to respond as I want to?” you whisper hoarsely, your face still close to his.

Arthur chuckles darkly as he catches on what you are referring to, his breath warming your plumped lips. “It’s the only way I know you’ll listen, Kitten.” His hand holds up the leg that you had wrapped around him, sending shivers all throughout your body. “You were teasin’ me with those vague little words of yours, admit it.”

His accusation draws a smile, half amused and half exasperated, from your lips. "Maybe," you concede, your voice a soft murmur against the cool breeze that rustles through the marshland. "But only because you make it so easy to."

Arthur’s eyes soften at your response, the rough edges of his demeanor melting away into something gentler, something more vulnerable. “Kit, I…” he starts, swallowing thickly, but then he stops. “God, I love you,” he breathes, his thumb caressing your thigh. “So much that I just can’t stand it.”

You smile, pulling him into another kiss again, deeper this time, filled with all the unsaid words and promises. His hands tighten around you, as if trying to meld you both into one being. You can feel the beat of his heart, rapid and strong against your own chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your pulse.

“Can’t wait to have a place of our own…” he moans between breaths, his lips tracing kisses down your neck. “Away from all this madness. Just you'n me, Kit.”

Your heart clenches at the thought, a sweet ache blooming across your chest. “And no more hiding,” you murmur back, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close. “No more pretending we're anything less than what we are.”

Arthur hums affirmatively, retracing his path to meet your lips again.

The moment ebbing away, he slowly parts from you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of reluctance, seeking the silent permission that's always communicated in the glances you share. "We'll make it happen," he vows, a determination setting into his jaw, the kind that you've come to associate with his promises — promises he intends to keep at all costs.

You smile, nodding your head softly, and he gently lowers your leg and you remove your arms from his neck. “Hosea wants to talk to us.”

Arthur smiles. “Well, I hope we didn’t keep him waitin’.” He offers his left hand and that’s when you see the ring still on his finger.

“You didn’t take it off…” you say softly.

Arthur follows your gaze to his finger, where the simple gold band catches the light of the day. A shadow flickers across his features, a storm of emotions crossing his face before settling back into that steadfast resolve you've come to know so well. "No," he replies, his voice a gravelly whisper. "I guess I forgot.”

Your brow pinches with worry. “Do you think anyone noticed?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t seen anyone really, kept my arms crossed or my hands in my pockets.” He looks at his hand a moment longer before removing it from his finger. “I’ll be glad to keep it on and not have to take it off.”

You nod, your heart clenching. “I know.”

He puts the ring in his satchel and shifts on his feet. “Hosea does know, by the way.”

Your eyes widen. “Knows that…?”

Arthur scratches the back of his head. “It had been so long since I could talk to anyone…and you had forgotten everythin’…I told him that we were married when he and I were back at Emerald Ranch.” He looks back at you, with puppy-like eyes. “I hope that don’t upset you.”

It makes sense, Hosea’s aloofness when you’d walk in on their conversations, his veiled efforts to have you around Arthur as much as humanly possible.  You’re thankful that Arthur had someone to confide in, even if that wasn’t you. You smile and shake your head. “No, it doesn’t.”

He smiles softly at you and after a moment, he offers his hand again. “Mrs. Morgan,” he says lowly.

You grin and take his hand. “You better call me that the next time we are alone,” you tease, feeling a flutter of anticipation at the thought. Arthur’s grin widens, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of mischief and love. He pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Let's go see what old Hosea has cooked up for us this time," he suggests, and you both start walking back to the camp.

Reaching the mansion, you veer right towards the gazebo, where Hosea waits at a table. He turns to see you both, Arthur’s arm around your waist, and he smiles. “Was wondering when you two would show up.”

You snicker at that, stepping ahead of Arthur into the gazebo. “It was only a few minutes.”

Hosea nods. “Yes, I’m sure you both have a lot to catch up on.”

Arthur clears his throat and he reaches the chair you were aiming to sit in to pull it out for you. “Yeah. Lots of talkin’ to do.” You sit in the chair and he pushes it forward and then he takes a chair beside you. “There’s a lot to think about.”

“Indeed there is, son,” Hosea agrees. “Which is why I think you two should go see Trelawny.”

You blink. “I’m a little surprised, Hosea. You were there when Dutch told me to lie low, don’t you think that’s what I should be doing?”

There is a gleam in Hosea’s eye, hinting at a little suggestion of rebellion. “This task requires people with soft tongues, not idiots.”

You glance at Arthur. “Soft tongues?”

And you feel Arthur nudge your leg with his knee from under the table.

Hosea shakes his head, not oblivious to your teasing. “I mean quick-witted, not prone to shoot first. Trelawny’s plan is more subtle than bold robbery.”

“Then why need me?” Arthur asks. “I’m usually the strong arm, remember?” And he tucks his chin. “And I messed up at the party. I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself again.”

Hosea seems to search your faces, his mouth opening as though to say something, but then he closes it again. He runs his hand over his face. “I had forgotten that you didn’t…” his voice trails off. 

But you feel Arthur take your hand and pull it out from under the table, he brings it to his lips, speaking softly into your knuckles. “You wanna tell him, Mrs. Morgan, or do you want me to?”

You see the sparkle in Hosea’s eyes and you feel the heat in your cheeks. You pat Arthur playfully on the arm. “We aren’t exactly alone right now, Arthur.”

Hosea leans closer to the table, regarding you both. “I’m glad you finally told her, Arthur.”

You shake your head. “No, Hosea. I remembered.”

His eyes widen. “You remember?” He chuckles happily, shaking his head in disbelief for a moment and then you see the gears turning in his head. He quickly looks around and seeing that no one is within earshot, he continues, still speaking softly. “Then you must know what happened in Blackwater…!”

It is then that your smile fades and you shake your head slowly. “No, Hosea, not yet.”

Hosea settles back in his chair, shoulders drooped, but it is only a second or two before his smile returns. “Well, we can’t have everything all at once, can we?” Then he studies you and Arthur again. “But I have a feeling you already have everything that you need.”

Arthur releases your hand to put it on your shoulder, pulling you close. “I reckon we do.”

You inhale deeply, taking in his scent and you meet Hosea’s gaze. “I must admit it bothers me that I still can’t remember what happened in Blackwater. It’s like my own mind has built up a wall that I can’t seem to break through.”

Hosea scratches his chin. “What triggered your memory this last time?” He means your marriage. 

“We still would like it secret, by the way,” Arthur interjects. 

Hosea nods. “Oh, of course,” he agrees, then looks back at you. “Go ahead, dear.”

Still leaning into your husband, you answer. “I think it started when I saw Arthur’s ring. He had put it on his finger while he was trying to tell me under the gazebo during the party.” Then your brow pinches as you begin to recall the events that followed. “I fainted. It was the most painful headache I’ve had so far. Then I woke up, Bronte tried to kill me as I escaped, so I set his house on fire and…” You swallow. “Killed him.”

Hosea eyes you closely. “I had thought it was you.”

You sigh. “I didn’t want to tell Dutch it was me. I didn’t want to tell him what Bronte said.”

“What did he say?”

“He…said he already knew about Cornwall. Said he discovered Arthur was my husband.” You shake your head. “He was cunning. I told Dutch he had eyes everywhere, and now that he’s dead, I have a feeling he will be replaced with someone much worse.”

Hosea nods, processing your words. “Dutch keeps asking me about the bank. Wants to send me and Abigail to scope it out.” He shakes his head, his lips forming a flat line. “I think he aims to rob it.”

“The Saint Denis Bank?” Arthur asks, bafflement lacing his voice. “That bank ain’t like Lee and Hoyt, Hosea, or even Valentine.”

“I know, son. But Dutch seems to think with Bronte gone…”

You lower your gaze. “It’s my fault…”

Hosea quickly reaches for your hand as it rests on the table and you feel Arthur kiss the top of your head. “It is not your fault, Kit. Bronte’s death wouldn’t’ve come about if he had let you go in the first place. You killed him in self-defense.”

You shake your head. “I could have left him as soon as the fire started. I had an opening…” you feel the familiar sting in your eyes as the guilt wells up in your chest. “But…I just got so angry…I didn’t want him to take another boy…or…” 

Arthur pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “It’s alright, Kit.”

Your voice is muffled as you speak into his shirt. “We’ve got to get out of here, Arthur.” You sniff. “Before any more of us get killed.” You think of Sean, Mac, Jenny, Annabelle. Names you recall but down remember their faces. All had died for this dream that still hasn’t gained ground. 

Hosea and Arthur are quiet as you cry softly, giving you time to feel the grief that you are afforded. 

After a few minutes, you push away from Arthur gently, wiping your eyes. “Sorry.”

“I know when you start crying, it’s a big deal,” Hosea chuckles bittersweetly. “So cry all you need to.”

You chuckle at that, sniffing. “I seem to cry more than I used to.”

“You have good reason.”

You exhale sharply, sniffing one more time. “Okay, I’m alright.”

Arthur begins to rub your back in gentle circles. “You shoah?”

You nod. “Yes.”

Hosea pats the table. “I think we need to come up with plans of our own.” Then he looks at you and Arthur with a steely gaze. “For you and the Marstons. If I can do anything before…” he sighs. “I want to get my boys and their families out. Maybe there can still be paradise yet.”

And Arthur, ever a realist, says what you all are thinking. “I hate to sound like Dutch, but we need moneh if we’re goin’ anywhere.”

And Hosea, always one step ahead, leans in with a fox-like grin. “That’s what this job with Trelawny is for.”

Your brow pinches. Wouldn’t it be better to earn money in secret? Not through a job that everyone will soon know about? “That doesn’t make sense, Hosea.”

Hosea lifts his chin. “It will. Just go to Saint Denis. In fact, go now. Trelawny will meet you there tomorrow and I’ll send others to help.”

You trust Hosea, so you decide not to argue. “Alright.”

Hosea nods approvingly. “Good. Take some extra clothes.” Then he winks at you. “You never know.” And with that, he rises from his chair and steps out of the gazebo. 

Arthur waits a moment before speaking lowly to you. “You shoah you’re okay?”

You nod, patting his hand as it goes to your shoulder. “Yes, Manžel.”

“It feels so good to hear you call me that.”

You turn to look up into those soft waves of ocean eyes and you mirror his smile. “I think so, too.”

***

You and Arthur decide to pack for multiple days, the anticipated time to be alone while also finding ways to make money the root motivation for doing so. You pack Odliv while also putting a loose halter on Večer. Having an extra horse can come in handy, and given she has good strength, Arthur has the idea to go hunting as well. Pelts are income and the meat is good so you won’t go hungry. 

You and Arthur will go to Saint Denis, as Hosea instructed. You will rent a hotel room in the nicer quarter of the city, not the saloon that you had found yourself in the last time. You will spend some time acting like a normal married couple before meeting Trelawny at the tailor, once again, where you assume he’s going to help dress either you, or Arthur, in the part that you are to play. Then he will take it from there. 

Afterwards, with hopefully some money at the end of all of it, you will split off from Trelawny and whomever else has joined in on the fun, and then you will go off on your own adventure. Just the two of you. Finally. 

“You got your shotguns?” Arthur speaks into your ear as he comes up behind you. Instant chills rise up your spine and it’s everything in you to not drag him into the woods and have your way. 

You bite your bottom lip and nod. “Yes. I’m ready to go.”

“You guys goin’ somewhere?”

You feel Arthur back away from you and you follow his motion to turn around. You see Charles with his saddlebag over his shoulder and rifle in his hand. 

Arthur points to his gear. “Seems like you are, too.”

Charles hums affirmatively. “I had met some Waipiti Indians. Chief Rains Fall and his son. They seem to be having some trouble with the oil company and I’ve agreed to help them.” He readjusts the saddlebag in his shoulder. “I’ll be gone for a few days.”

You nod. “So will we.”

There is an awkward pause and Arthur clears his throat. “Let us know if we can help. Kit and I were at the oil fields not too long ago. We dug some dirt on ‘em.”

Charles raises his brow. “I thought you gave that all to Bronte.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No. Kit just told him a few things. We kept all the papers that we stole.”

You can’t help but feel a little flutter in your heart. After Bronte, you felt that all that work was for nothing. Maybe it isn’t after all. You turn to Arthur and take his arm. “You still have the portfolio, don’t you?”

He nods and walks over to Montana. You and Charles both watch him as he rummages through his saddlebag, eventually pulling out the red leather portfolio. He returns and hands it over to Charles. “We also got some photographs of a body that Cornwall might have been involved in. But that might need an educated feller to mean a damn.”

Charles takes the portfolio gratefully, lowering his saddlebag to stuff it inside. “Thank you. Both of you.”

You shrug. “It may not be worth its salt, but it’s of no use to us.”

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I’m coming to feel that way about a lot of things. I wanna help Rains Fall and his people; it makes our problems seem…”

“Not as important?” you suggest. 

“I was gonna say less like problems and more like consequences.”

And you don’t beat around it. “That is what they are.” And you lower your voice, readying yourself to plant once again. “And I’m tired of running from them.”

Charles nods again, humming thoughtfully. “I wish it wasn’t that way.”

Arthur pats Charles’ shoulder. “Me too, brother.” And as though of the same mind, Arthur adds to what you’ve sown. “So maybe it don’t have to be.”

Charles studies Arthur for a moment, then looks at your unwavering expression. He doesn’t say anything more, and gently backs away. With a wave, Charles turns to continue on his way to Taima. 

You and Arthur both watch him mount up and canter down the path that leads out of Shady Belle before either of you speaks again. 

“You want him to come with us?” Arthur asks. 

“He’s a good man, Arthur,” you answer. “He’d actually make it in a normal life. Better than us, even.” You look up to see Arthur’s eyes cast into the view of the trees, his thoughts taking him elsewhere. “I know you’d like for him to come, too.”

Arthur nods. “Everyone except Micah.”

You snort. “And Strauss.”

He looks down at you, smirking. “Oh, c’mon, Micah would sell you out before Strauss ever would.”

You furrow your brow, as if that is an unfair comparison. “Micah would sell out his own eyes if it meant he could have his precious guns.”

Arthur cackles loudly. “You’re too quick for me, woman.”

The laughter fades as quickly as it came, settling into a silence that's filled more with unspoken words than stillness. The afternoon sun filters through the dense foliage, casting dappled shadows on the ground as you watch a leaf spiral to the earth, its journey calm and inevitable.

"Arthur," you begin, your voice soft and uncertain, "what if we just disappeared? Left everything behind."

His marine blue eyes flicker with a mixture of pain and longing, capturing your gaze as if he's trying to read your thoughts. He sighs, running a hand through his fawn-colored hair.

"Ain’t that what we’re wantin’?” he asks with a light chuckle.

You have a brief smile before it falters. “I know, but…” Your eyes fall toward the camp. “I’m worried about what we are leaving behind.”

“Yeah, it ain’t gonna be easy,” Arthur admits, his tone serious now, eyes tracking the horizon as if he’s looking for an answer in the distant hills. “Not just for us. For everyone we’ve crossed paths with. Those who care, anyway.”

Your thoughts drift to the faces of those you both have come to know over the years: some with warmth, others with warning. "Do you think they'll remember us?" you ask, the question hanging between the two of you like a delicate thread.

Arthur’s expression softens, his eyes returning from the horizon to settle on you. “Some might forget, but not all. We ain’t the type to fade into the background, not completely. Stories of us might turn into campfire tales, or maybe whispered warnings in shady taverns. But we’ll live on, somehow.” He looks down and grins. “Like Plato’s stories about gunslingers.”

You ponder his words, the idea of becoming nothing more than a story, a lesson or a cautionary tale. It’s not what you’d hoped for, but maybe it is what’s real. The life of an outlaw isn’t a hero’s tale, and there are so many who fell who have been simply thrown in a pile of other nameless faces. “It might be best to leave the past behind by then,” you reason. “I’d like for the Pinkertons to never hear of us.”

Arthur nods. “I hear that.” And he sneaks a kiss on the top of your head. “Let’s head on to Saint Denis. I wouldn’t mind takin’ in a theatre show wit’chu.”

Your heart flutters at the idea, something so normal and mundane that it feels like a forbidden fruit. "A theatre show," you repeat, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "That sounds... nice."

Arthur's grin widens, the sparkle in his eyes betraying his rough exterior. "Nice?” He reaches atop your head and snatches your hat. “I offer you a chance to escape, to watch perfect entertainment in a crowded hall, and all you say is 'nice'?" He teases, twirling the hat by the brim before playfully placing it back on your head, slightly askew.

You can't help but laugh, the sound mingling with the rustle of Odliv’s tail swishing. “I’ve been on the other side of performances, Arthur,” you reply holding your hat firm on your head this time. “Aren’t you worried I’ll pick it apart?”

Arthur chuckles, his eyes alight with amusement. "Wouldn't dream any less of you, Kit," he replies, his voice carrying a playful undertone. "But maybe, just this once, you could let yourself enjoy the story and forget the tricks behind it?"

You nod thoughtfully, considering his proposition. The idea of sitting with him, amongst a crowd of people, strangers, not running in fear or glaring at you. Seems…normal. You look up at him, and tap his nose. “We best get going, then.”

He grins. After securing your saddles and making sure you are ready, you mount up, and rise out of Shady Belle.

Thank you for reading!

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@photo1030 @eternalsams

[bugbuzzbugbuzz]

the thing i rlly enjoy about indigo park is the fact that the fleshcots are all more realistic. Minimum to no clothing, realistic talons and claws and fangs, they barely look like the characters they're based off of.

Mollie's feet are the classic chicken feet everybody normally gives bird characters, but the fleshcots feet are actual parrot feet. The fleshcot also has actual hands instead of cartoony feather hands.

Lloyd is naked as the day he was born and his color palette was toned down significantly for the fleshcot, his mane no longer has the fun colors and its just boring. The most cartoony part of him are his three toed back paws and how awkward his tail connects to the main body.

Genuinely SO excited to see how they'll design the other fleshcots and what changes they'll have.

[cremsie]

Hello, do you still draw things for the mane event?

Sometimes. I haven't done a comic in quite some time really. Not for lack of wanting to, I'm just anxious. Especially when it comes to the Mane Event. I would love to work on it and develop it into a much more fleshed out series, but one of the last comics I did featuring them was misunderstood. During a time when I was timidly exploring the waters of the trans experience. Not sure about my own gender yet, so it was a way to express that. But an artist I really looked up to at the time made a callout post on my comics calling me transphobic. Lots of death threats were sent my way and it really shook me. They refused to even talk to me like an adult so I ended up slowly stopping my comics. Just cause I didnt think I could handle another situation like that.

But I am older now, more experienced and more to terms with myself. Maybe I will pick it back up, comics in general and the Mane Event. I do miss Molly and Mark and their journey.