#of a hat. john taught her to do this. john used to be the one getting her to do it.

[quietwingsinthesky]

in the “canon” version of millie’s tall tales, bobby never asks for her version of events because she only called him there to distract sam & dean while she confronts the trickster alone (<- stupid) (<- overconfident) (<- gets kidnapped) (<- still works to make gabriel like her somehow because she’s just that good at being a hostage) BUT. i need it to be known that her version of events is just as biased it’s just that it’s biased in the sense that millie Was Not Fucking Paying Attention.

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[drizzledrawings]

Do you have any young Arthur and John sibling headcanons? Like Arthur messing with John or maybe the others too!

-Arthur used to trip John at every opportunity, kick his knees in while walking behind him, smack his hat off his head, etc etc

-John used to leave bugs and frogs and one time a rat in Arthur’s bed

-Arthur taught John how to ride a horse among other things

-John met Isaac and Eliza once, he was often jealous and didn’t like when Arthur would leave to be with them

-John also didn’t like Mary for the same reasons

-when Arthur was grieving, John was put on Arthur watch

-they used to just mess around together, go on rides, explore the wilds, be mischievous

-when Tilly was brought in, John and her developed a rivalry of sorts, competing for attention (mostly Arthur’s)

-poor Arthur was usually sidled with watching after the two of them, it worked as a good distraction for him

[pekoehoneyncream]

Captain John 'Bravo Six' Price Headcanons

Part Two!

Words: 450~

TW: None (sfw)

Here it is! As promised, part two of headcanons for Price.

Part One, for anyone interested.

Enjoy!

Despite his love of water, and his hat, he hates fishing. He also isn't overly fond of boating. If he's near water he wants to be IN the water.

He's capable of holding his breath for a truly ridiculous, and admittedly impressive, amount of time. Refuses to say what his max time is. He feels like telling people that is just asking for it to be tested.

He is constantly checking the weather. Even when he has no plans and isn't intending to go outside, he’s checking the weather. He has four separate dedicated weather apps on his phone, one of which he’s actually paying for. Do Not ask this man about the weather, he never just says the temperature. He’ll start going on about today’s Barometer Reading, Wind Shear, Dew Point, expected Pressure Systems, and which ways the wind’s blowing. 

Uses petnames constantly. Could not stop if he wanted to, it's totally automatic. As soon as he likes you on a more personal level, you get a petname. The more he likes a person the wider the variety of names they're called becomes. The 141 get the worst of it, especially when he's feeling groggy or distracted, “Soap, Sweet Crumpet, pass the sugar.”. To Ghost “Darlin’ Dearest, there coffee in the pot.”. To Gaz “Mah Lil sugarplum, it's wheel up in thirty.”

Also, when he's out of it, his accent gets thicker and he doesn't enunciate or properly separate his words. One sentence will become a string of five consonants and every vowel known to mankind.

Surprisingly clumsy. 90% of the scars on his hands are from self-inflicted accidents. Regularly singes his finger-tips with his lighter. Also gets his skin pinched when trying to close side-release buckles every single time. Still hurts like a bitch too. You'd think he'd get used to it, but it never gets better. He's just learned to be quieter about his reactions. It's not that he lacks dexterity, he's just a bit reckless with the small stuff.

His mother was a professional singer and he grew up listening to her practice, run scales, and sing just for her own enjoyment. She taught all her children proper rhythm and how to hold a tune. Price to this day enjoys humming and singing, he often does it absentmindedly, but will belt along to any song that's playing when the mood strikes him. The team doesn't mind as Price actually has quite a nice singing voice.

This also means that Price is well practiced at projecting his voice without hurting his throat. Aka Price is very good at shouting and can do it for a very long time.

Paces when he’s on the phone. Up and down the halls, in and out of rooms, he’ll walk in circles if there’s not enough room for anything else. Soap and Gaz snuck a step counter into his pocket once, when they finally got it back it was over 600 steps.

Thank You for Reading!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 12: Heaven in Hiding

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: language, stressed Stella, threatening a police officer(eh? I think? Technically lmao), I think this chapter is pretty tame?

* Word count: 4,711ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! This one is a longer one too, so thank you for sticking around. I think this is one of my favorite chapters so far.

Rip opened the door for Stella to the foreman’s lodge and quietly told her to make herself at home. She plopped her sleeping bag on the couch that was inside the door. She wasn’t particularly thrilled with having to sleep on it, but it was better than the floor again. Placing her backpack on the table next to the couch, she took off her coat and hung it by the door. Stella could feel Rip’s eyes on her. He must have been trying to figure out if she was going to have a breakdown.

She didn’t bother to stop what she was doing to look at him before she spoke. Opening the scrunch bag her sleeping bag was in, she said tiredly, “I’m fine, Rip.” With a bit of struggle, she wrestled the sleeping bag out. When he didn’t say anything in reply, she broke her focus to find him leaning against the kitchen counter. His arms crossed and his face stoic. Even with the stoicism she could tell he didn’t believe her. “What?” She asked, walking around the back of the couch and mirroring his posture.

He almost broke and let a smirk escape at her crossed arms and the cute little scrunch that had taken over her full round cheeks. Lloyd’s words of them being similar came back to him. He had to think about how he should approach this because he didn’t want her to get angry with him again and hightail it.

“How are you okay with this?”

“I mean, is it tragic? Absolutely.” Stella leaned her hands against the back of the couch. “But one thing y’all have taught me is don’t get stuck in the what ifs. So I’m trying not to. I’m just focusing on what we’re gonna do tomorrow with the sheriff.”

Rip removed his hat and set it down gently on the counter. When he turned back to Stella his eyebrows were raised. “We?”

Stella frowned quizzically at him. “Uh, yeah? We were both involved.”

He shook his head. “No, I don't think we’re gonna mention you.”

“But we can’t just throw you under the bus by yourself! They’re gonna see two sets of footprints, two sets of hoof prints. It was my rope that was used, and I don’t have any sort of alibi, not to mention my finger prints are on your rifle,” she counted all the reasons on her fingers. “How could we keep my involvement a secret? Especially when the feds are probably getting brought in? Killing that bear was a federal offense. Self defense or not.”

He breathed out loudly, almost like a scoff. “You’re overthinking it. You’re brother and Colby, hell any of the wranglers would lie for you in a heartbeat. Hell, we could even get Kayce to say something. I’ll go up the mountain with John early before the sheriff gets here. We’ll take care of second tracks.”

“Someone has to think about it, Rip! You’re acting like we didn’t just witness people die and then kill a federally protected species! And I will not have someone else put their ass on the line for me for nothing.”

“Well we all would. And that’s because we didn’t do anything. It was all me.”

“You realize I’m not going to let you take the fall alone, right?”

“I’ll hide the horses.”

“You think that’ll stop me? We have four wheelers.” She straightened herself but kept her arms crossed. “Hell, I’ll sneak out early and walk up there before y’all even open your eyes.”

Rip bit his tongue. He knew he was walking in thin ice. “Alright, how about this?” He stepped closer to her. He figured he would take both of their opinions out of the equation. Stella looked at the floor, expecting to be scolded like a child. “We’ll let John decide in the morning and whatever he says, goes.”

She snapped her head up at him, taken aback that he was being patient with her. The way things had been between them the past few days had been rough. She automatically expected the worst. She uncrossed her arms and stood up straight and pushed her lenses back up her nose. “Does this mean we’re good now? You’ve got whatever gross out about me being friends with Kayce?”

It was a loaded question, but Rip understood why she asked. Whatever qualms he had with Kayce didn’t have anything to do with her. He knew she was smart enough to deal with whatever Kayce brought her way.

Stella continued with a smile gracing her lips. “Because you remember saying something about getting me into all kinds of shit or whatever?”

Rip had a feeling he knew where this was going, but nodded anyhow.

“Well who’s done it now?” She locked innocent but mischievous eyes with him.

He smacked his lips at her and gave her shoulder a gentle nudge. Stella giggled and stepped backward. “Alright Stella-belle. Go on and get to bed. We’ve got an early morning. I’m takin’ the couch and your sleeping bag as a blanket.”

She made a noise, about to complain, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to fuck the good vibe that was between them again. “Yessir,” she gave him a mock salute and strolled to the bedroom of the lodge.

Once in there she took a moment to herself. The last time she had been in here, she had been waking Lee up because he uncharacteristically overslept. That made the room heavy. It was almost like Lee was here. She wasn’t exactly sure where she stood on the whole ghost thing, but she wouldn’t mind if he did visit her.

Stella went to the lamp that was beside the bed and turned it on to brighten the room. The bun that sat atop her head started to hurt. Her glasses came off, she laid them down on the small bedside table, and unwrapped the scrunchie letting her hair fall around her shoulders. She swiped her hair to the left and realized she wanted out of the jeans she was in. She poked her head out of the bedroom door to see Rip sitting on the couch in quiet contemplation. Leaning on the door jamb she cleared her throat.

Rip’s head swiveled in her direction. He swallowed, not used to seeing her with her hair down or without her glasses. She looked soft and feminine to him, not the scrappy spitfire he was used to seeing. “Yeah?”

“Do you have sweatpants or something I could borrow? I’m tired of these jeans.”

He jumped up off the couch. “Oh yeah, let me get them for you.”

She laughed. “I can get them, Wheelie. Just tell me where they are.”

He stopped short. It had been a long time since she had called him that. He grinned affectionately at her. “Top left drawer of the short dresser.”

A small smile adorned her cheeks. “Thank you,” she mumbled quietly and turned around to go find the offered pants. She found the drawer and pulled the first pair of pants out, quickly slipping out of the offensive jeans and into the much comfier pajama pants.

She walked back to the door and watched Rip get the couch ready to lay down on. He unzipped her sleeping bag and flopped it out to use as a blanket. A soft smile came across her face and leaned her head against the doorway. Even though she wanted to strangle him for the last few days, she really was grateful for his existence in her life. One thing she knew she could always count on was the feeling of safety in his presence. She was so stuck in her own head, she hadn’t noticed him looking at her when he was finished.

His voice came through, sounding like it was in a tunnel as it brought her back to the present. “Stella? Is everything okay?” He took in her comfy appearance and noticed she had chosen his favorite pair of sleep pants.

“Uh, yeah. Everything is okay. I just wanted to say I found the pants and make sure you didn’t need anything else before I laid down.”

“I’m alright Stella-belle. You sleep good, alright?”

Stella smiled and turned around to head to the bed.

The alarm Stella had set for 4:00 am went off quietly under her head in the pillow. She wasn’t going to let Rip get to John first and convince him that she shouldn’t be involved. So she was going to get there first. As quiet as she could in this creaky bedroom, she got up, grabbed her glasses, and creeped out to the door to devise a plan to get to her back pack. It was, unfortunately, still on the table right by a slumbering Rip’s head. Standing at the door she watched him carefully to make sure he was still sleeping. It wasn’t often that she had seen him peaceful. She decided it was a good look for him. There was a slim to none chance of making it happen while he was awake. Unless he was with Beth.

She tiptoed from the bedroom door and around the back of the couch. Halfway around the couch Rip groaned and changed position. She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes closed, shoulders tensed, and jaw clenched. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself. A sigh escaped his lips as he got comfortable and fell back into his snoozing. Stella let out a slow breath that she had been holding. She continued around the side of the couch, and reached out to grab her back pack.

With a quick and quiet snatch, she padded her way back to the bedroom. “All this for the pair of clean underwear in this bag,” she muttered, annoyed at herself. She opened the bag and dug around to find the emergency pair she always carried. Finding it, she gave a quiet ha and changed back into her jeans from the day before. She thanked the gods above that her boots were in here, but had second thoughts of putting them on until she got out outside.

She looked at her bag and decided it would be safe here until they were done later. Picking up her boots, she inched her way out into the living room again. She stopped briefly when she noticed Rip was in a different position. Her eyes squinted in suspicion, worried that he might be waking up. This was about the usual time he started his day.

Carefully, she snuck back around the couch and grabbed her jacket. A swift movement brought the jacket over her shoulders and she slipped her arms through. She put her hand on the door knob and turned it, but it rattled louder than any alarm. The sound was way louder than she intended. A grimace took over and she looked one more time over her shoulder at the sleeping foreman. “Sleep tight,” she murmured.

Hurriedly she closed the door behind her as softly as possible and made her way to the end of the front walkway. Throwing on her boots, she sped off to her car. There was a back road that led up the mountain near that cliff. She would beat them all to the punch.

When she was almost to the barn where she had parked, she slowed her gait to a walk to catch her breath. She loved sneaking but also hated the adrenaline rush that came with it.

Stella made it to her car with a smug smile on her face. She reached out for the door handle. She pulled it rapidly but footsteps rushed up on her from behind. The door snapped closed out of her hand. She gasped and spun on her heel to confront the offender. Her face was in the person’s chest. Leaning back against her car she looked up. It was Rip and he was way too close to her.

“What’re ya doin’, Stella?” He looked down the bridge of his nose at her. The deadpan look on his face and the fact that she’d been caught red handed trying to escape had her mouth hanging open. The two of them huffed lightly in each other’s faces.

“Uh,” Stella struggled to find words, “um.” She swallowed thickly. “I was just coming out to,” her sentence cut short as Rip leaned closer and trapped her against her car with his arms on either side of her. She couldn’t breathe.

He smirked. Amused that he was able to catch her off guard and used it to his advantage. “To what?”

Stella remained speechless. She didn’t have any excuse to give to him.

He called her out, maintaining direct eye contact. “You thought you were gonna be slick and head up the mountain before everyone else so you wouldn’t be told no, huh? What happened to letting Mr. Dutton decide?”

Stella made a groan of complaint relaxing back against her car. She angled her face up at him trying to adjust for the annoyingly close proximity. “I just don’t see how we can logically lie me outta this, Rip.” She admitted in a soft voice. Her hand wound its way up to push her hair out of her face. Her mouth felt dry at being trapped. “Can you back up? I’m not gonna run.” He slowly dropped back a few inches just in case she decided to dart away. It was far enough back that she didn’t feel trapped anymore. “Thank you.” The words were soft when they came out.

“Miss Stella-belle. Always trying to do the right thing.” He chuckled. He grabbed her in a quick hug. “How’d we get so lucky to have heaven in hiding with us?”

Her eyebrows crinkled as Rip pulled away. She tilted her head to the left. “Rip, are you drunk?” She had only ever heard him talk about Beth like that. “I think you need to go back to bed.”

“No, I’m not drunk. Just seeing things in a different light.”

“Okay there, enlightened one.” She patted his chest, trying to get him to back up a few more inches. “Listen, you caught me okay? I’ll wait until he gets here.”

Rip breathed out and backed up. “Alright, I’m trusting you. I’m gonna go get my hat.” He took a few steps backwards and pointed to her, still keeping eye contact. “Don’t make me regret it.”

When he turned around, Stella sagged back in her car again. She was overwhelmed at all the emotions that swirled in her head about the whole situation. “Hellfire.” She breathed out.

Around her the sounds of the ranch coming to life for the day took over the silence. Off to her right she watched as Lloyd, her brother, and the rest of the wranglers filed out of the bunkhouse and toward the barn. None of them, except Lloyd, looked like they were awake yet. She smiled at the sleepy stumble they made.

From behind her car, she heard gravel crunch underneath tires. It caught her attention and she turned to look. John pulled up in his truck. He lumbered out of the tall vehicle. Making his way to Stella he took in the small smile that hung around her mouth. He was glad she was content here, but if they couldn’t convince the sheriff and fish and game what happened was the truth… things wouldn’t be so lovely in a few days.

“Stella, you’re to stay here.” John instructed, interrupting her moment of peace.

Her mouth dropped open with a scoff. “Excuse me?”

Rip added as he stepped up behind them, “she’s bound and determined to be involved.”

“Damn it, that’s because I was involved!” Stella turned and gave John a pleading look.

“I told her she’s overthinking it, sir.” Rip said.

Stella snorted. “Yeah and clearly someone has to because it appears no one has thought that far ahead. Except maybe Jamie if he’s aware of the problem.” She breathed out harshly, collecting herself before she fired off. “Sir, just listen to me for a second.” John waved her to continue.

“The feds are most certainly getting involved. If they see any kind of tampering, which they would pick up on no matter how good we did it, Rip would be tossed even further under the bus.”

She locked eyes with John. “Like I told Rip last night; they’re gonna see two sets of footprints, hoofprints, it was my rope that was used and his rope is still attached to his saddle. I don’t have an alibi and he needs someone else to back up his word about what actually happened! Not to mention my fingerprints are on his rifle and my DNA is on the rope.” John remained quiet as he waited for her to finish. “And I’ll be damned if someone takes the fall for something that I also had a part in and I have no repercussions. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

John’s hands were in his pockets and Rip placed his hands on his hips when she came to the end of her rant. Each of them for different reasons, but fair reasons nonetheless. John didn’t want her to be in this tight spot, but as he listened to her reasoning he couldn’t deny that she made a good point. Rip was flustered at Stella throwing herself on the tracks for him and everyone she cared about.

“So I say I go.” Stella looked over at the wranglers warming up the horses in the round arena, put her hands in her jacket pockets, and sniffed; the cold making her nose run. She wasn’t sure what had changed in the last few weeks, but she was starting to get tired of the back and forth and constantly having to argue with people.

John cleared his throat. If being involved in the deeper side of things on the ranch is what she wanted, that’s what he would give her. “Okay Stella, you go, but you follow my every direction. Let’s load up on the horses.”

Stella spun on her heels and went to get Abigail ready before either of the men could change their minds.

The ride up the back road started to feel like it would never end. Every step the horses took almost elongated the trail even further. Things between the three of them had been silent the entire way. She zoned out in front of her and Abigail and tried to pass the time by imagining how the meeting with the sheriff would turn out.

John cleared his throat, slowing his horse's gait. “You sure you don’t want to back out now?” He glanced at Stella, eyebrows raised in suggestion. “Because you can turn back here.”

Stella scowled at John. “Damn it, yes, I’m sure. Whatever comes, we’ll work the problem and that’s that.” She heard Rip suck his teeth at her answer. She knew he was hoping for a different reply. “Look Rip, you can be pissed all you want. All I have to say is tough shit homeboy.”

John had to turn his head to the side to avoid his smile being seen. He was glad that his daughter wasn’t the only one giving his foreman a run for his money. He made the right decision to keep her around. That made his mind up. She would come out of this just fine.

They trotted up and the sheriff and his team were already here. John turned to Stella and Rip. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, and don’t give too many details. Bare minimum unless I say otherwise.” It was mostly a warning for Stella because Rip already knew how things went.

Stella nodded with a mock salute. “Yessir.”

John was the first off of his horse. He slowly made his way over to the sheriff. Rip got down and grabbed Stella’s reins. She frowned for a second, but recovered her face to neutral when Rip held out a hand for her to use to dismount. ‘What the actual?’ Stella questioned herself. Rip shook his hand at her telling her to get a move on and take his hand. She grabbed it carefully and swung her leg over, using his hand like a springboard to catch her weight as she hopped off of Abigail. There was a quiet breath of sound that left Rip’s mouth as he supported her jump.

Her feet hit the ground with a solid thud. “You know I could’ve gotten down just fine right?” She looked up at Rip underneath the brim of his hat, since they were still hidden by the large mare. Instead of dignifying her objection with a verbal response he clucked at her and wound his arm around her placing his hand in the small of her back, effectively turning her toward the problem at hand. He led her up to stand next to their boss who was at that cursed tree next to the cliff.

When the duo got closer to the cliff, Rip could feel Stella tense through his hand still on her lower back. Her feet stopped abruptly, not wanting to go any further. He rubbed his hand against her shoulders to reassure her that she was safe. Stella breathed out willing her feet to quit sticking to the ground.

John looked over the edge at the people bringing up the tourists. Rip placed Stella in between himself and the tree behind John. He wanted to hide her from the view of the police. He didn’t want her to be here at all if he was fully transparent with himself.

Stella wasn’t exactly thrilled at being that close to the edge. She’d almost fallen to the same fate of the tourists if it wouldn’t have been for Rip gripping her up. She was fine standing back in the shadows for the time being though. She couldn’t believe she had actually convinced John that she should be involved. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what steps to take next. She didn’t think she would have gotten this far.

“What a fuckin' mess, John.” Sheriff Donnie Haskell announced looking disappointed.

“You'd think these tourists would learn the wilderness isn't a theme park.” John said as he paced over to Donnie. Stella followed Rip’s lead and hung back by the tree.

“That's not what I'm talking about.” He motioned to the bear. “I'm talking about that.” Stella grimaced at the memory. Brown bears and grizzly bears were her favorite animals besides horses. It hurt that Rip had to do what he did, but they would be human pâté if he hadn’t.

Donnie continued. “Now I gotta get an agent up here from Fish and Wildlife. That's a federal offense. What's the ETA on Wildlife?” Stella had to hide the smirk that wanted to appear at having someone else tell John and Rip the same thing she did.

“Said a few hours.” One of the other officers answered from a few feet away.

John went in on the defense quickly. “It was self-defense, Donnie. Let's not overreact here.”

“They’re out here looking for a bear you told them to hunt.” Donnie fired back.

Rip leaned back against the tree and looked at the ground. Stella was feeling like they were in the principal’s office. She made sure the second part of the tree trunk was behind her and rested back on it and angled her body toward Rip. She couldn’t help herself and leaned against his shoulder for some safety. He put his arm around her shoulders and he gave them a squeeze. He knew she was out of her element, but he wanted her to know neither John nor himself would steer her wrong here.

“I told them to haze it out of here before it killed my cattle.”

“Here's the picture Fish and Wildlife are gonna paint. They are up here hunting illegally, kill an endangered species.”

Rip turned and let Stella go as he blew out a breath. He was getting angry at what the sheriff had to say. Stella tried to quietly keep him from exploding.

“Witnessed by two tourists that they then throw off the fucking cliff. Then he gives me some bullshit story about throwing them a rope… And both of them, John, both of them slip.”

Stella’s blood pumped through her ears like a drum beat. “It was actually me who threw them the rope. It’s missing from my saddle. You can check. And everything we’ve told you is true.”

“We’ll see about that, Stella.” Donnie’s voice foreboding.

“I'm calling Jamie.” John determined.

“You're gonna need him.”

John pulled out his phone “Jamie. I got a real problem, and you're not here to fix it. Call me back.”

“Look at me Rip.” He leaned to face her fully. “Everything is fine. We’re gonna be okay.”

“It doesn’t help that Haskell is being a prick about it.”

“I get it, I do. But the problem is, this is a huge fuck up. On our part, on his part, and he’s probably pissed he’s gotta fill out a bunch of paperwork.”

He gazed down at her speechless at her ability to stay lighthearted when the situation was far from it. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his chest. Placing a solid kiss on the top of her head to let her know the message was received. He let her go just as quickly as he had grabbed her. Stella didn’t even have time to open her eyes before he backed up a few inches.

John marched over to the pair. “They're gonna make a real stink out of this.”

“That's what I get for trying to do the right thing. I should've just buried them all.” Rip sounded defeated. Like he had already accepted the fate of going down for this.

“Hey knock it off. What’s done is done and you were trying to do it right.” Stella nudged his arm.

John stepped away to the space in between her and Rip. “Where were you standing, Rip?”

“Both of us were right here. Stella scooted back a bit when the bear charged, but we were both right here.” He pointed to the animal. “I mean, if that ain't self-defense, I don't know what is.”

“If that's where you were really standing.”

At the same time Stella and Rip went in on the sheriff.

“Hey, Donnie!” Rip started.

Stella shouted. “Oh come off it!”

Rip stalked over to Donnie. “There's powder burns on his fucking nose, man. Why don't you do your job?”

Stella placed herself in between the sheriff and Rip. “After the tourists fell, the bear came up over the hill. It gave a warning stomp once, then charged. It gave no time for adjustment. At all. You’d be an idiot to not know that was self defense!” Stella put herself in Donnie’s face.

Donnie looked down at Stella unthreatened. “John, you better calm your attack dog and attack dog in training down here, or we're gonna have this conversation in town.”

Rip witnessed Stella’s fist ball up and knew she was about to crank that Soulja Boy back to let a solid punch fly. She stepped backward to brace herself to throw the punch. Rip grabbed her hand and forced her fingers to interlock with his. They didn’t need her catching a charge for assaulting a police officer.

“Rip, Stella. Go to the house and wait for Fish and Wildlife.” John called them off.

Rip pulled Stella away from Donnie with their still interlocked hands. He pushed her in front of him and forced her away from the problem and to her horse. Rip sniffed indignantly at Donnie and trailed after Stella. They briskly walked past John, to which the foreman and ranch owner shared a look.

John came up to the sheriff. “I got enough problems without you inventing more for me.”

Sheriff Donnie scoffed. “Look, John, somebody kills a bear, and ten thousand vegans send letters to their Congressman. They won't send one goddamn letter for those tourists.” He raised his voice when John walked away. “Now you should have buried that thing in a hole before I got here, 'cause I ain't the problem, the Feds are.”

[hannibalzero]

Cut loose and set free

Charthur wip

🦬🦌🦬🦌

I’ve been trying to get into my writing grove again so I’m throwing things to the wall and seeing what sticks. Let me know what you think!

“And just where were you, Mr. Morgan?” Dutch demanded, turning around on The Count with the gang behind him. It reminded Arthur of those Greek myths of the gods of Olympus, the ones Dutch and Hosea had taught him to read. Dutch in front of the mountain pass that led into a dark snowstorm sky, each member of the gang another god in their own right.

Dutch was Zeus, king of the gods. Molly was his queen Hera, Hosea was Hermes, John had to be Ares, Grimshaw was Demeter, and Uncle was Dionysus.

Arthur could almost see the white robes and gold leaf crowns.

What did that make Arthur? Apollo, he supposed.

“Where were you?! Answer me, boy!” Dutch bellowed like the gods of old. A clap of thunder followed his voice, as if nature itself was blessing this moment with its presence. The rain started to fall slowly from the sky.

Swallowing a few times, eyes wide, Arthur found his voice. “I told ya, Dutch! I was working with Hosea on that real estate job.” He proclaimed his innocence. Arthur had told Dutch this was a crazy job, that the law would find them too quickly. Hell, Arthur had even done the leg work by scouting the boat, its route, and what it should be hauling. “I told ya what I thought of the job, ya said it would be fine!”

“Enough! You have the balls to talk to me like that! You should have been there, Arthur! It’s your job as my enforcer! My hunting dog!” Dutch snarled, showing his teeth, which looked more like fangs at the moment. “If you can’t do your job, then you have no place here with us! I’m cutting you loose, Arthur Morgan.” He pointed at Arthur now, casting him out of the only family Arthur had ever known.

Arthur physically flinched, feeling like a little boy again. He wanted to hide away in a closet like he did when he was a boy, when Lyle was drinking. Arthur could remember just last week when Dutch was singing his praises for bringing in two gold bars from a stagecouch job he ran by himself.

What had changed so quickly?

“Dutch! Ya can’t be serious!” Hosea cried out, turning himself and Silver Dollar towards Dutch.

“Quiet!” Dutch roared back to Hosea, shutting the man up and causing him to stop in his tracks. “This gang doesn’t need any more deadweight. Already have more than we need. This ain’t a charity!”

Hands shaking while holding the reins, Arthur hid his eyes with the brim of his hat. “…That how ya really see me, Dutch?” Arthur asked quietly but knew his answer and gave a long, slow sigh. “Alright then.” He gathered his emotions for the time being, pushing them way down until he could understand them.

Arthur looked Dutch in the eye, his eyes a dull blue, almost gray now. “I ask for my tent, chest, and horses…won’t take any money. That fair, Dutch?” Arthur bargained. He didn’t want to start over with absolutely nothing. At least having the items he had since he was a boy would be nice.

Dutch stroked his beard in thought, tilting his head. His gold and ruby rings glittered like lightning in the stormy light. “Yes, think of it as your hope chest.” He held out his arms with a grin. “It’s what young people take when they leave home.” He mocked, pointing with his head to Molly, who was riding in her stagecoach. “At least Molly came to me with a few gold bars.”

Arthur nodded, slipping off Rum’s back and got to work. He retreated to his lean-to, setting his chest beside his beautiful mare. Walking over to the extra horses, he gathered his beloved Brandy, Gin, and Absinthe. “…Y’all be safe,” Arthur called out to the gang as he packed up his supplies and attached leads to the horses.

Javier grabbed Arthur’s hand in a good shake. “Until we meet again brother.” He whispered. Giving Arthur a set of his throwing knives, Javier was a fan of throwing knives so this was special.

Bill practically turned his nose up at Arthur, riding ahead. But tossed Arthur a container of Dapper dan hair pomade.

“Good day, Mr. Morgan.” Dutch turned The Count around and headed up the mountain. The gang slowly followed behind their leader, most looking at Arthur with sad eyes or as if he were a traitor.

“Look at the bright side, cowpoke. Ya were too soft-hearted for real man’s work,” Micah Bell teased.

Arching a brow, Arthur crossed his arms. “Baylock, come.” He ordered.

Baylock was a smart boy; he knew who gave him treats and who burned him with cigarettes to make him run faster. At Arthur’s orders, the horse reared and knocked Micah off before trotting over to Arthur with a happy whinny.

Micah hit the ground with a thud. “Baylock! Baylock, come here!” he demanded, struggling to get up like a turtle on its back.

Arthur undid Micah’s saddle, letting it fall to the ground with its owner. He slipped Baylock a peppermint. “Come on, Baylock, ya join my ladies.” He ordered the horse, who was eager to be with Arthur’s beloved herd. “Have a nice life, Micah.” Arthur climbed onto Rum’s back.

The wagon with the gang’s women rode past. Mary-Beth passed Arthur her old romance novel, the one with pressed flowers in it. “Goodbye, Arthur. Love you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Until we meet again.” Karen gave Arthur her old compact mirror. “Best man I know,” she whispered to Arthur, giving a sad smile. “I owe ya a drink.”

“You better write to me, Arthur Morgan.” Tilly was actually crying, Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he saw Tilly cry. “You’re my big brother.” She reminded him, giving Arthur her pestle and mortar, which had red flowers on it.

“I will. Love ya all,” Arthur whispered back, holding his new treasures close to his chest before hiding the items in his saddle bags.

Hosea approached now, with sad eyes. His shoulders slumped and looking far older than he should. “You write to me, boy. I’ll work on Dutch. See what’s really going on. John too.” He leaned over and gave Arthur a hug. Arthur held Hosea back, trying not to sniffle. “Be brave for me, son.”

“Love ya, pa. I’ll write you,” Arthur promised before moving back some. “I-If I settle somewhere good… I’ll send for you.” He looked around, giving a sniffle as his facade started to crumble. “I have a few places I will check out.” He gathered himself up a bit more before looking back to Hosea. “I’ll be fine and dandy,” he promised, giving Hosea another hug.

“I know you will, son. Ain’t no doubt you’ll be just fine. I’ll see ya soon.” He hugged Arthur back before moving forward to follow the gang.

Leaving Arthur Morgan at the bottom of the mountain, Zuse the king of the gods returns to his mountain with his court by his side, leaving the rejected god at the base of the mountain far from the gates of Olympus.

Arthur’s home.

He watched the gang go until they were out of sight and disappeared into the white snow caps. Arthur felt his shoulders drop before shaking and hug his head as he sniffled loudly. Arthur cried like he did when he lost Mary…like when he lost...Eliza and Isaac…when he lost his Mama. Big heaving sobs wracked his body, not noticing that Rum had started moving.

Rum was a very smart horse. an appaloosa mare with a white front and a brown bottom. She had to be three years old, but she was the leader of Arthur’s herd. Being a horse, she had no idea what was going on with the humans but Arthur was upset and they didn’t need to be here.

[bi-lavelent]

Brie Larson x reader part 2

Chapter 2     I'll She Her in The Courtroom

"Everything in life is worth fighting for every person, every family, every one's dream , everyone's happiness, everyone's peace, everyone's heart; every race, gender, sexual orientation be happy we live in this world were the darkness can chance us down if it lets you so stand for the people around you when you something wrong happening give someone a smile its worth a million a bucks, give someone a hug its worth a million smiles, make sure some ones okay its worth a million hugs. Don't be afraid of what others think be brave, be strong, be hopeful and everything will work itself out"- Y/N Y/L/N

At the age of 18 you start getting called to be a jury, But for me it was the age of 11 and it wasn't a juror it was a plaintiff or witness I don’t remember. I didn’t look too much into it, I just prepared to testify against someone I loved. My mother yes I loved her she might be the devil wearing human skin but I still cared about her. Now that I think about it from where I am at in life now  I most definitely didn’t love her.  I remember clearly sitting next to John wearing a black dress. (It’s funny how things come full circle because I stopped wearing dresses and I forgot why but while writing this I remembered that I have bad memories around it.) I don’t Remember  much about the courtroom. My therapist has taught me how to block most of this stuff out so that I don't have to deal with the nightmares anymore. But one thing that is permanently burned in my head is when My mother walked in except she didn't look like my mother this time she looked like she was a serial killer. She still looked like the woman who raised me but I could see an evil in her eyes, an evil I hope to never see on my  own. An evil that everyone else thought would appear in me. That was until I started my new life I mean people know me know my mom but I’ve learned how to just let it be that’s why I’m writing this book I want people to relize that I hat her as much as everyone else maybe ever more sure I didn’t title this I’m glad my mom died which is what I wanted to but Jeannette Mcurdy took that title before I even thought about writing this. Anyway She was clearly drunk and high. The words that I remember is when the judge asked,  

"how i knew the defendant." 

John said, "She's the daughter of the defendant."

My mom shouted out, "Daughter I've never had a Daughter. I've never seen this person a day in my life."

I looked down at the ground knowing all the bad stuff that my mom had done but this person was still my mom. The person that used to let me cuddle her when I was sick on the couch. What had I done wrong to the world that made this be my life. I don't want anyone else to have to go through this pain; it's enough trauma for a lifetime that nothing can fix. I thought of the reason I had said theater to John when he asked me what I wanted to do. I said it because I wanted to use a stage to echo my voice for anyone in the world who was hurting or atleast where I lived for now. One by one the witnesses went on the stands until it was my turn. John wasn't the lawyer but I had refused to have anyone but jhon ask me the Questions.

John asked  "Hello Miss. Y/L/N  where did you find out all of this stuff? "

"Hello sir in these diarys of  my moms she wrote everything shes ever done in these she also gave the location of where she hid the bodies," I looked at the jury, 

“Everyone hates there mother once they hit double digits thats been going on for a while I would never want to do this to my mom even if she had bailed me out of jail when i was six like a good mother i would still do this when someone loses a loved one it's the hardest moment in that person's life they will go to eveery end to just get a small amount of clojure  to these families whom my mom has killed the loved ones of clojure  to the man whom my mother had me with closure to the kid i use to call my bestfriend and flirt with whom is actuall my sister closuer for me to know its okay to date both boy in girl but its not okay to cheat and murder them and i hope that god can forgive my mom one day but I know that shes my mother and shes done alot of bad stuff I would still fight to the end of earth to hear her say once in my life to me that she loves me. But i know that will never happen. my mom isn't a bad person. she's the one who let me cuddle with her when i was sick,Would turn my radio up when my favorite song would come on, Would turn on christmas movies because she knew they were my favorite this woman that stands before you today is not my mother she has her face but she doesn't have her heart the woman was not whom I knew my mother to be and in my head it's going to stay that way because im 11 and i've already gone through more trauma then most of you adults can say you have been my mom has killed several innocent people and I want to give those people that have gone through that trauma happiness for once in their life. Sir i hope that answers your question If it doesn't too bad to sad but Im not staying another minute in this courtroom with the worst mother in the world," I turned towards the judge, "fax me the information once you guys find out pls," Looked at john, "your the only true parent i've had for now john your welcome to thanksgiving any time," Turned to the jury, "thanks for your time," Turned to my mother,"Go to hell." I replied 

Sometimes I regret the decision I made that day. I mean she was my mother and I’m not condoning her behavior but pepole make mistakes 

Trauma defention: an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, rape or natural disaster.

My definition: the years of lies and pain my mother put me through.

if you want part 3 like

[cxyotl]

ummm some of my rdr2 headcannons. enjoy. mostly john related.

-kieran delivered messages between o’driscoll camps. thats why he was in contact with colm in colter even though its implied a lot of low ranking o’driscolls dont really ever see the guy in person. while in one camp, he’d deliver the message and then stay there as a stable hand until a new message had to get out somewhere else. he wasnt exactly lying about being a stablehand, but he didnt exactly tell the full truth (the full truth woulda gotten him killed, he thought). also explains why he was aware of six point, and who would likely be there.

-arthur would tell john about his adventures more than hed tell anyone else. thats why john was aware of most of the NPCs, why he knew about the legendary fishing and hunting that could be done/the trapper, why he knew about charlotte balfour even though arthur never wrote about her, etc. sure some of this could also be based off what was left in arthur’s satchel, but theres definitely more to it if john was able to put together names and faces and clues. like… there was very little indication that it was arthur who mickey knew, but john seemed to put it together pretty quick. i imagine arthur told him about the armless veteran in valentine.

-while hosea encouraged his boys to read and write, he kinda just… didnt have time to get sean into it too. since arthur and sean were so alike, hosea guessed that sean would eventually get into it on his own time like arthur did. he didn’t expect sean would die so early (because, hey, he and arthur are so alike… theres no way sean would die young).

-since john was so much younger than arthur, he got a lot of arthur’s hand-me-downs. they always fit, somewhat, because of how small john was by comparison. john never minded, because of how he looked up to his brother and dads. on that same point, arthur never really got new clothes until he had enough money and freedom to go buy them on his own. arthur got a lot of his clothes from dutch and hosea, and if not them, they were stolen from luggage on stagecoaches, trains, house robberies, and hotel rooms.

-to continue, since tilly was so young and couldnt possibly wear any of the boys’ hand-me-downs, all those hand-me-downs were just given to john and she’d get clothes from the above robberies. that said, since arthur was older, she only had to do that for a while. he and hosea would alternate taking her to shops if they could afford it (and if they werent wanted in that town… yet) so that she could pick out dresses and shoes she liked. its not because they hated john, but you save money and public appearances where you can.

-because its part of hat etiquette, arthur NEVERRR let john use his hat. john would anyway, because hes just Like That. and tilly would hide john if he ever did so he almost always got away with it. of course that changed in That scene where the hat is passed down, but john respected arthurs rules around his hat until it felt right to bring it with him to avenge his brother, or bring it with him to boost his confidence when taking out the laramies at hanging dog.

-john doesnt give a fuck what gender an animal actually is. dogs are boys, cats are girls, and horses are whatever Feels right to him. he might as well be spinning a wheel in his head to decide if a horse is a boy or a girl when he first meets it. you cannot convince him he is wrong.

-jack once picked up a dime novel about the van der linde gang at a store when he was a teenager, and abigail was NOTT happy. the dime novels often made arthur and john look like bloodthirsty animals. she’d much rather john tell jack the truth than let jack read or believe that arthur was a truly evil person, but she also didnt like john telling jack anything about those days.

-jack remembers arthur somewhat, but not a lot. arthur wasnt always in camp, and he was pretty quiet. jack at the very least remembers that arthur had taught him to fish and that he’d been there when he was reunited with john. he also sort of remembers arthur encouraging him to read, but so many people told him that that he can’t remember if that was arthur or someone else. he knows for sure he has no bad memories with uncle arthur.

[radiopixelctive]

Pizza Tower Spice'd Backstories: Remixed

( under the cut )

Pierrot Mozzarella

a 42 year-old man who gained an inhuman power of electicity from just pulling his fingers into an electric outlet while being an extremely curious and dumb teenager. He's half italian half french, so that's why his name is Pierrot and that's why he owns a pizzeria. He was always a weirdo, but in a good way. almost always positive and optimistic, for some reason. But one day his parents were gone, and Pierrot had a hard period of time in his life due to his loss (which made him depressed in his 30's) and lack of job. Pierrot then decided he will leave the town and start his own business by making and delivering pizzas, which he was not bad at. he was working in his own pizzeria for several years all alone without any help, but he was pretty good at his work nevertheless. Of course, he was tired and exhausted at the end of the days from these delivers and cooking at the same time. he even wasn't paying attention to the huge tower next door. but there was one day - the day of Giovanni's and Sam's arrival. these three were working together for like a year now, without any harmful or big incidents.

Giovanni and Sam The Hamster

Giovanni is a gnome which cooks a nice and fresh pizzas for his family and neighbours, and Sam is an overgrown hamster and Giovanni's friend which delivers his pizzas to the other gnomes and people who lives in the Fresh Grove. after months of living in the tower, Gio got bored by just spending his life in the place he knows for a long enough time. He decided to leave the tower of pizza with Sam and observe the world. As it was clear, they didn't go really far away and stopped at Pierrot's pizza place. The gnome was working there as a pizza delivery man with his overgrown hamster buddy. Everything was pretty good the whole year until SpiceMiss came over and kidnapped him for her own goals and reasons.

PurpleBell

He was just a little pepper when he found out about the charms of mechanics and devices. PurpleBell was learning on how to use tools and stuff, he was really onto it. He's thinking it is the best and interesting thing on the earth, and nothing can be better than being a mechanic/engineer. The pepper was concidered as the almost best mechanic of the tower, or at least of the 1st floor of the tower. PurpleBell was proud of his works and projects, but then he decided to try something else. When he had enough money, he suggested to be an "f1" big key keeper, ready to fight against the ones who ever try to steal the key and/or go further up the tower with not-so-good intentions.

The Impartial

a brave and justice-filled swiss cheese creature with a cool grey cowboy hat, who IS aware of what he really are. When he was little, his grandfather, John E' Swiss, was his only family member so far. He taught his little grandson how to use weapons for good purposes, because he knew his grandson wanted to be a kind but fair fighter for justice and peace in the tower. When Impartial's grandfather died, he was really upset, but he didn't gave in to his grief. He was and IS a good justice warrior. He kept his money in his money box to be a "f2" big key keeper, knowing that it will be hard but important job to do, since he swore to his grandfather and others that he'll protect the tower from any danger and evil, even if it depends on his own life.

Neddy & Nelly

twin siblings, both 21 years old. Nelly was a really mischievious but supportive kid, and Neddy… he was just mischievious and a bit troubled kiddo. Of course they had and have some relationship problems, like, they argument with each other sometimes, but hey, that's a typical sibling stuff, c'mon? After their college, both of 'em found a nice jobs in the tower. Neddy have his own TV show where he does extreme and weird stuff, which kinda stresses him out, and Nelly have her own cafe with a good enough reputation. Neddy had alot enough money to be a "f3" big key keeper, and Nelly didn't wanted to be left behind, so she also payed some money to be partly a keeper, just to support her bro. Since Pierrot's arrival to the tower, Neddy noticed how weird, in his opinion, he was, so he started calling him "weirdo". He found some pluses in fighting the french italian, which are his show's possible reputation raise and the title of a good big key keeper.

Fierrot

A clone of Pierrot who's a fuse of two different types of Pierrot clones, which was the smartest of any other clone ever. but soon enough, it realised that it is just someone's doppleganger, and decided to not be someone else. It wanted to be an unique person. Its abandoned pizza place was, well… abandoned. And it lived there after leaving the factory it was created in. It, surely, tried to cook some pizzas, but it was bad- no… horrible! it was upset and downed, but one day… it heard a music. it was so nice and so wholesome! thought Fierrot and followed the sweet call of the tune and notes. There was a little radio, which somehow still worked and was turned on. But Fierrot didn't care who or what turned it on, it was only fascinated and charmed. It took the radio to its pizza place, carefuly placed it onto his counter and decided that it will not make food, no! it will dance! it will make it's business by doing something it loves and amazingly can thanks to it's stretchy and flexible body, and not just by copying someone's success! So it shapeshifted into it's very own unique style, being more original, and made a few permanent clones (which is now a janitor, a DJ and a head of special effects) to help it with some things. But time passes, and nothing in it's business changes still. It was saddened again, and for a complete accident, it has found Nelly's Cafe nearby. It thought that it can spend some time there, probably even find some friends. Fierrot came over to the cafe and sat down by the counter. It saw Nelly and The Impartial talking about something, looking like best friends. It decided to join their conversation, and it was successful. Now, with a good pair of friends, it had more confidence. but nothing worked, once again. It was feeling downed and almost depressed, but suddenly its janitor told him about the "big key keeper" thing. It got determined and excited again, and it was sure this time everything will be neat! It was happy, until it found out that to be a big key keeper, it needs money to pay. Luckily, it knew a person who could give it some money on credit - Nelly! She had enough money, and was very kind and understanding person, so she gave Fierrot it's needed amount of money. It promised that it will thank her by giving her the same amount back in the future. Now, once it became a "f4" big key keeper, it felt special.

SpiceMiss/SpiceGal

SpiceGal - a glorious, modest and smart woman, but also a little crazy with her engineer stuff. Her father was always kind and nice to her, and he was supporting her interests. But why did she become a villain, you ask? First of all, She's not, she just LOVES to mischief around like a little silly girl. And second of all, she was born being just a slice, and not full pizza, so she created a robot (with a bit of AI) that is a full pizza - just like what she was dreaming about! She called it SpiceMiss, not really wanting to come up with something else. she likes science, constructing and cooks not pretty good, so she decided to build a whole huge-ass tower for her creations and other creatures to live in! Everything was balanced, until two of the tower residents decided to leave. She thought that if they will find a place that's may be better than her tower, then they'll tell about this place to everybody in the tower, and her tower will be abandoned. SpiceGal was not liking this idea, and she (or rather SpiceMiss (there's no big difference anyway)) decided to kidnap the gnome. as a "bonus", she wanted to blow up Pierrot's pizza place, which she then changed her mind about, when Pierrot was already half-way to the top.

[dirtyvulture]

😎Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everybody!!!!! ( December 25 ) I have come bearing Christmas/ Holiday thoughts and presents for everyone.

Christmas was a bit different for Wolverine R when she was growing up because back in the day they would put candles in the Christmas trees for the light decorations, put popcorn garlands in the trees as well. And probably a few other things, it must have blown R’s mind when people started putting actual electric lights for decorations instead of candles and the like. Egg nog was invented in the 14th century so medieval times meaning that R grew up enjoying it ( she of course puts vodka or whiskey or whatever alcohol in the egg nog as a adult) . She went to mass for Christmas, Easter and all the important holidays as well as very Sunday before her presentation of her mutation. She was also taught to light candles at church ( like you can pay to light candles) for lost souls or passed love ones . So even after the presentation of her mutation and it was like 70 years between when the last time she celebrated Christmas as a child ( 70 years between 1844 when she was twelve to 1914 when she celebrated it again with Esther Hudson in WWI) to celebrate it again as a adult ( R was 82 years old in 1914 ) R still enjoys all the lights / decorations, the egg nog , she still lights up candles ( one candle to represent her family- John Howlett , Quincy SR , Kit , Marry Morris - one to represent all the friends and people she cares about- one to represent all the innocent people she can’t save or the innocents she killed ( when she wasn’t in control or wrong place and time as she would never have killed anyone innocent on purpose) . She doesn’t go into churches , she has individual candles as well as ….. not prayers because she doesn’t believe that her prayers would be heard anywhere ( if they ever were in the first place) but quite meditation or just quiet reflection or just quiet peaceful time for the people whom she lost ( loved ones or innocents that she couldn’t save or unfortunately killed) . After Weapon X , losing her old friend ( in the movie Wolverine lost his lady love in 1980 ) so I think that she hasn’t celebrated since 1979 …. That is until this year because there is no way in hell that the students and Nat and Rogue are going to let her sneak off or not let her not participate in the festivities. But in that time between 1979 and now , she still has those little things about the holiday season even if she doesn’t remember the significance of the candles and meditation she still does light three individual candles and does that quiet meditation every year WITHOUT FAIL .

R would want to make sure this is a good holiday for the kids ( especially HER KIDS) and making sure that Nat has a good memories and holidays as Nat never had any Holidays. R is helping all the really little kids or really young students write their letters to Santa , they ( the kids ) make her her wear a Santa hat or maybe a elf one . She is helping out decorating the school and asking Nat and her kids ( rouge and all the kids she adopted but wouldn’t admit that she adopted) what they would want or what traditions they have / want to do. R is asking Nat what would she would like to experience . People are asking R about Christmas when she was young ( they are sneakily trying to get some of her traditions and making her holiday great for her as she has always been doing so much for others) .

In the SB universe when the Eastern Siblings were younger Yelena 1000 percent run into Nat’s room and jumped on her yelling that “ Santa came , Natty!!!!! Santa came !!!!” Every Single CHRISTMAS!!!!!! ( I used to do this when I was younger with my own big sister so I know what I am talking about) Yelena was the ONLY PERSON ( a part from Kate )whom was could EVER woke Nat up that abruptly and do all of that and NOT DIE ….. hell the only one that could WAKE UP Nat PERIOD and not DIE . So when the Eastern European family all lived together the parents ( Alexie and Melina) ever had to wake up Nat then they sent Yelena to do so ( Nat would usually have a alarm clock set if she Had to wake up for whatever reason but naturally woke up most of the time ) because knew that Nat would kill them but not her baby sister(s) . I don’t know which sibling of the beef siblings is the older one, I don’t know if SB is the oldest or the youngest but the oldest beef sibling was the one that got jumped on every Christmas.

Again, please don't mind me being very late to this party...

I think present-day R secretly loves celebrating the holidays because she likes how excited and happy the kids (even the teenagers) get over it. Even though she doesn't remember how she used to celebrate or what she used to enjoy, she knows it's a special time for a lot of them and wants to make each year good for the kids.

R would make Christmas extra special for Nat this year (because it was the first time she got to celebrate in years). She would make sure she gets to help with the decorations, the ornaments, and even asks Jean to make Nat her own stocking for the fireplace. And over and over, Nat is just shocked at how welcoming this whole X-Men family is.

It's been a while, but I think SB is the oldest sibling? Someone will have to go back through your asks, I can't fully remember anymore lol.

[arthurcxllahan]

Name: Arthur Morgan Date of Birth: 22nd June 1863 Gender: Male Orientation: Bisexual Species: Human Honour Level: Neutral-High FC: Ian Bohen 

BIOGRAPHY

Parents

Born in 1863 to Beatrice and Lyle Morgan, Arthur Morgan was a sweet child. They lived in the Northern US, moving around for his pa's work. When he was five, his ma died of unknown causes.

Left in Lyle's care, Arthur started to help him with his crimes. Any failure led to harsh punishment. More than once, Arthur fantasised about killing his pa.  

In 1874, Lyle got arrested for larceny. He charmed his way out of the noose and fled back north with Arthur. He blamed Arthur for his arrest. On the road, Arthur witnessed Lyle's death. As much as he hated him, he has worn his hat since.

A New Family

1877, Arthur was living on the streets. Dutch van der Linde and Hosea Matthews needed a kid to help with a planned con. Dutch chose Arthur, much to Hosea's hesitance. The job went perfectly, so Hosea and Dutch adopted Arthur into their family. Arthur fell in love with the Robin Hood fairytale Dutch painted. And the pair taught them everything they knew to make him a formidable gunslinger and a founding member of the Van der Linde Gang.

He was around seventeen when Arthur first met and fell in love with Mary Gillis. They had an on-off relationship due to his way of life.

But Arthur swore to Mary that he would marry her one day. 

In 1885, John Marston joined the gang. Arthur took him under his wing like a big brother. Over the years, Arthur and John became solidified as Dutch's sons.

Crimes

In 1887, Arthur, Dutch and Hosea did the gang's first bank robbery. This event gave Arthur his first bounty.

Fatherhood

In 1888, Arthur finally proposed to Mary. He had the whole thing planned, including a fancy meal and a photograph taken. He claimed the ring was his ma’s (when it was actually one he kept after a robbery). 

Weeks after Mary accepted the proposal, she returned the ring and revealed that she would no longer be seeing him. Heartbroken, Arthur became reckless. 

That same year, Arthur’s recklessness led him to sleep with a nineteen-year-old waitress called Eliza. When she told him she was pregnant, he promised to do right by her and their son. 

Isaac was his pride and joy. He would visit every few months, bringing money and gifts to help support them. And for the weeks he stayed, he would be the perfect father. He tried to teach the young’un to fish and read. 

Three years later, he arrived on one such visit to find their graves outside the home. He later learned robbers killed them for ten dollars. He never grew out of the pain. His focus turned to the gang. That would be his only family.

In 1894, Abigail Roberts joined the gang. Arthur (and many other men in camp), frequently slept with her. Arthur even considered proposing. However, she had fallen in love with John. And a part of Arthur knew Abigail needed someone who loved her, not just someone who settled for her. Mary, Isaac and Eliza were still too raw to make him a good family man, either way. 

Arthur became an uncle to John and Abigail's son. But when John refused to accept Jack as his own, Arthur lost what little respect he had for him.

The betrayal became worse when John fled the gang. When he returned after a year, everyone except Arthur accepted him back. Real men don't abandon their families.

The Fire

[WIP]

1899

Spoilers for Red Dead 2

[WIP]

STATS

Eyes: Blue with yellow around the pupil Hair: Dirty blond Height: 6′1 ft Occupation: Lead Enforcer of the Van Der Linde Gang Birthplace: ‘North’ USA Residence: Transient Mother: Beatrice Morgan* Father: Lyle Morgan* Parental Figures: Dutch Van Der Linde; Hosea Matthews Siblings: None; Adoptive, John Marston Partners: ; Eliza (ex.)*; Mary Linton (ex.) Children: Isaac Morgan* Horses: • Boadicea* (Liver Chestnut Hungarian Half-Bred); • Eli (O’Driscoll Tenessee Walker); • Buell (Dutch Warmblood) Pets: Copper* Positive Traits: Loyal, Unwavering, Proficient Flaws: Self-Depricating, Hard, Ferocious

[dhampiravidi]

peaky blinders oc - jasmine grey

BASIC DESCRIPTION

Full Name: Jasmine Grey aka Artemus Kelly Nickname(s): Jas, Mr. Kelly (when disguised) Age: 24 (born on Sept. 15, 1894 in London, England) Ethnicity: 1⁄4 White English, ¾ African-descent Gender: Cisgender Woman Sexuality: Pansexual (Panromantic)

APPEARANCE (FC is Kat Graham)

Jas is a young woman who stands at 5'3" (1.6 m). In many ways, she physically takes after her mother, having light brown skin, dark green eyes, petite yet calloused fingers & a somewhat toned form with thick hips. She also inherited her father’s chin, lips & textured dark hair. Her braids end just above her shoulders. Her dress sleeves always stop after the elbow & have pockets, so she can keep her hands free. When disguised as a boy, she wears a white, long-sleeved shirt under a plain vest, dark pants, a hat to hide her hair & gloves to hide her dainty fingers. She always wears ankle boots, even under the skirt of her dresses.

PERSONALITY

Jas is an ambitious, resourceful & confident girl. She isn’t afraid to speak up on behalf of herself or others, though she will (very reluctantly) stay quiet if doing so manipulates events in her favor. She’s incredibly loyal, with a natural need to help others. Unfortunately for some, she is a vengeful person who holds grudges, and if she disagrees with someone on something, she’ll typically stand firm rather than compromise. These last few qualities, plus her tendency to form strong attachments with those closest to her, can easily turn things against her or in her favor.

BACKGROUND (TW: mentioned death of a young person)

She was born to Alexandra & John in England. Her parents had two sons, one who died young (Daniel) & another who was born several years before Jasmine (Jessie). They grew up in a decent middle-class household, as her mother was a former writer who taught a lot of people (some who were reluctant racist White people who paid well) & her father was a conductor in the orchestra (note: neither of her parents were ever slaves, as her mom is of African-Irish descent & her dad is a Northern African-American born after the Civil War). Like her older brother, Jas was sent overseas to America, ultimately receiving her bachelor's at 21. During WWI, her father & brother were conscripted, leaving Jas & her mom to take care of things at home; they worked as a professor & a local nurse, respectively. The men survived WWI largely because they were part of the group of Black soldiers assigned to unload cargo, rather than fight on the front lines. Still, her father (who was already nearsighted) ended up with a condition that weakened his arms, while her brother found it difficult to adjust to life back in town. Jas goes to Birmingham when her brother, who supposedly went there to visit a friend, goes missing (after becoming unable to pay some debt collectors). After she finds him & sends him home, she spends time teaching the women & kids to read & defend themselves, all while disguised as a young man. & maybe sometimes it's her fault when bad people go missing.

SKILLS

(strengths)

Languages - she's literate & fluent in English. She also knows about two handfuls of words in Gaeilge (Modern Irish).

Self-Defense - her brother taught her to shoot, she knows the body well (thanks to her experience as a nurse) & some boys from her co-ed school taught her to use a knife in a few different ways.

Anger - this drives her about as much as love does.

(weaknesses)

Anger - sometimes her emotions rule her, overriding her brain.

Size - she's not very tall or really all that strong, either.

FIGHTING STYLE

Jas likes to fight her enemies as close up as possible. When it comes to taking down single enemies, she has no problem sneaking up & striking if possible. She secretly finds melee fighting exciting & there is no such thing as a “dirty trick” in her book–unless she’s agreed to an honorable duel (which rarely happens, if ever). Jasmine carries a pistol, but she dislikes guns, due to their inherent danger & accompanying loud noise.

HOBBIES

Collecting small knives & trinkets - some she sells, some she keeps for their aesthetic/sentimental value.

Dancing - Jas loves going dancing.

Sex - she’s careful about who she does it with, but she has no problem using it as an activity to help her relax.

[rantsintechnicolor]

the haunted mummy of perdeaux manor, episode 3

The footman burst through the door, breathless. “Young Mr. Perdeaux is arriving. Lord Perdeaux’s ship is arrived in port. Carts are to arrive ahead of the storm this afternoon.” 

Mrs. Chessick turned to flush Rebecca out of the kitchen to greet her brother. But she had already jumped out of her chair. She rushed up the corridor to the stairs. She was reaching for the handle when her brother opened the door.

John looked down on her. He stepped back so she could come out of the stairwell and inspected her appearance. “Sister. Have you been dressing yourself?” he sneered. Their father taught him how to feel superior, but teaching him to hide that feeling was something that did not take. Or perhaps he just liked torturing his sister. 

“Yes, John. I’ve been dressing myself for years now. I’m not a child anymore. Good morning to you, too.” Her cheeks colored. 

“You always have this rumpled look when you come from below stairs.” His wink was not kind. She was almost sure he had just called her a whore. And maybe she was, though not the way he implied. “We really do need to marry you off. I’ll talk to our cousin Henry and fix it right up. I know you’ve always liked him.” 

She didn’t think her cheeks could burn hotter, but they did. She had always felt something for Henry, and hated that her brother used that knowledge to tease her. 

He saw her color and laughed at her discomfort. “In other news, this is my friend, George Mayweather.” 

Another wave of mortification that made her wish she could melt into the floor like wax swept through her as her brother stepped aside to reveal a man who was witness to the entire exchange and multiple humiliations at the hands of her kin. He was most certainly her brother’s type, and easily one of the most beautiful young men she had ever seen. His dark curls still squashed from his riding hat and his clothes spattered with the road from their ride. Though slightly shorter than her brother, he stood straighter with more poise than she had seen in most men his age. While he had a straight nose and strong jaw, there was a fresh, boyish quality in his face with cheeks made rosy from the crisp morning ride. His green eyes met her gaze with an expression of shock. Was he as disgusted at the sight of her as her brother? 

“George, this is my unfortunate sister, Rebecca. She’s completely spoiled and backwards. She doesn’t appreciate her social position and spends too much time below stairs with the servants. We hope to marry her off to one of our cousins. She’ll at least be valuable for keeping our property in the family.” Tears pricked behind Rebecca’s eyes to be thought of as such a tool, but this final statement of her brother’s lit an angry fire in her belly. It gave her the strength to at least meet the gaze of the stranger, though she found his eyes too intense and dropped them instead to his ear.

George attempted a smile when he addressed her. “How do you do, Miss Perdeaux?” he managed to say as he bowed. 

She found her voice a few more heart beats later than a normal greeting. “How do you do, Mr. Mayweather?” She mumbled and curtsied.

“Well, that’s done,” said John dismissively. “Rebecca. If you would be so kind as to find Mrs. Chessick and have her get a room ready for George. Oh, and Henry is arriving later in the afternoon. Meanwhile, I’ll show George around the house. Shall we, George.” He spun away from her, throwing out an arm around George’s shoulders and guiding him down the gallery toward the billiards room and the library. 

She dropped her head and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from sobbing and screaming. She didn’t see George glance back at her. Nor did she hear him take John to task for the abominable way he treated his sister. John made another disparaging remark about her worth and continued with the tour while George silently considered the character of his new friend.

[carolap53]

Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

--John 3:3

I once had someone ask me what I thought about human depravity. So I told him about a time when I was walking through the halls of our church one Sunday and wandered into the nursery area. I peeked into a class and saw a little boy sitting in a corner surrounded by toys. He had every toy in the classroom… except for one.

So he walked up to a little girl who had the last toy, bopped her on the head, and took the toy away. No one taught him to do that. He didn’t have to be told to do that. He just did what felt right – w hat his flesh told him to do.

Here’s my point: Without Christ in our lives, we’ll always follow our own way, which is really self-centered in the end. No one is ever born a Christian. Each of us is born sinful and must be born again for a regenerating work to take place inside of us.

Perhaps you’ve been blessed with a wonderful Christian family. Or maybe you’ve never even met a Christian. Either way, you have to be born again by trusting Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sin and receiving Him into your life. Affirm that commitment today!

NO ONE IS BORN A BELIEVER. SO AFFIRM YOUR FAITH IN CHRIST TODAY – THAT YOU’VE BEEN BORN AGAIN AND CAN LIVE A CHANGED LIFE!

Jack Graham

[jaundice-collector]

Here's a song I wrote called "Gorgeous Georgia Sky" because Tumblr seems like a safe abyss to scream into

That old front door

creaks open on a

spring day.

I step out of that

house we lived

in for 50 years

I've got those same

old leather boots on

and that hat pulled

past my ears.

It's almost the same

as it always was

the only thing that's

missing dear is you.

I've still got that

old hickory cane

with the lionhead

I go and sit near the lane

and stare up at that

gorgeous Georgia sky

I just know your

looking down

with that mindful eye.

I do that quite a lot

these days if I'm

honest most my

time now is

spent in a daze.

But staring at

that sky sitting

on our deck

brings me back

to many a time

on my trek.

Whether that be

my time in the

Air Force or

our wedding or

the birth of our

very first son that

gorgeous Georgia sky

and me were always

bestest friends.

Since I was born

I've looked into

that sky my dad

always taught me

to he was such

a gentle guy.

Whether day or

whether night

always looking

in the sky

about 10 years

old we went from

Georgia up to Maine

on our own dime

the sights to

see in those skies

there and in-between

that was such a time.

I'd climbed mountains

by 13 been up

in tree houses

overlooking

the green my

dad was always

with me my

mother was too

sick we always

brought back

photographs from

each of our trips.

16 back with that

gorgeous Georgia sky

oh those clouds

never did tell a lie,

by 18 my mother

had died but that

was alright we had

that sky to look to.

We always knew she was

looking down at us

because we knew even

up in heaven she'd

throw a fit let me

see my son and

husband again

those were her

words I'll bet.

22 I'd joined the

Air Force ready to

fly planes and just

get away never saw

a war never saw

much combat just

me and the sky

oh how peaceful.

Well Im looking

to that gorgeous

Georgia sky and

I really hope this

is where I die.

By that old

creek where we

used to fish

and swim in

this old house

ready to give in.

By 26 I was out

moved back in

with dad to take

care of him,

he'd grown sick

just like mamma

had before.

Had these coughing

fits with blood

end up lying on

the floor gasping

for breath there

was nothing I

could do I watched

my dad die that's

when life went askew.

Packed up my shit

and sold the house

nothing left there

but painful memories

I grew my hair long

and let it flap

in the breeze

I lived out of

hotels and vans

that's right I did

this before the

popular man.

I guess I did

it selfishly had

to get away

wasn't no

more life

with living

anyway

about 5 years

of this and

I'd straightened

myself out cut my

hair short and trimmed

up my beard moved

to New York at 31

married my love

at 33 the same

love I'm missing

today by 35 I was

homesick pretty

typical of me.

I showed you

my childhood

and said "love

can I please go

home just for

a week?"

And to my

surprise you said

"Really just a week

that's rather bleak

let me come with you

and we'll stay as

long as you want let's

hop on that Greyhound

bus tonight."

We arrived days later

when the rain

it was light

I stepped off

that bus to

see my home

the one I'd

sold years ago.

The vines had

overtaken it

there were holes

in the roof I still

longed for the

touch god I

missed it just

as much it

proved to me

that day that

memories never

fade no matter

how painful

they were the day

they were made.

I bought that house

back and spent the

next 50 years fixing

it outside and in

only for it to

relive it's glory

once you'd flown

up above with him

I wish you were here

today to see the

way it is it's not

my father's home

it's mine and it's

got the scars to

prove it.

It's been 32

years since

the kids moved

away and I've

still got the

height marks

by the doorframe

in the dining room

where we never

ate at all.

I can't believe

it's been 3 years

since you've gone

but I didn't

go crazy like

with my dad John

I know how to

grieve now and

I'm glad you

taught me that

otherwise I'd be

an old drunk

laying on the mat.

Oh Dorothy

Oh Dorothy

every time I feel

a teardrop in my eye

I look out in that

gorgeous Georgia sky

it'll never be as

pretty as you were

and none of the

stories I read

about him and her

will ever be close to ours

every time I close my

eyes Dorothy I see

your name in

the stars just

know you'll

always have

my heart.

[shinygoldengun]

Thinks about the gang's fidgets (under the cut!)

Tilly fidgets with her hair - mostly stray hairs or baby hairs or one lone curl that always seems to form. Grimshaw tries to get her to stop, quoting "it's not proper for a lady to mess with her hair after it has been put up". She still does it. She also plays with any sleeves she has, sometimes finding the texture irritating (especially in the humid Clemens Point or Shady Belle).

Mary-Beth fidgets with her shawl. With her wool one she likes sticking her fingers inside the loose knit of it. With her silk and cotton shawls, she likes fraying the edges with her finger. She also likes to shift her weight from foot to foot when standing up.

Karen used to fidget with her ringlets in her hair, but recently she's moved onto making her skirts swish, or moving her foot so she taps the tips of her toes or her heel on the ground with some force. In the summer, she either pulls down or pulls up her shirts constantly. If her skirts have pockets, she puts her hands in them and plays with the lining.

Abigail nervously plays with Jack's hair when he was little. When she is alone however she taps her fingers on her knee or palm, and shifts her weight from foot to foot. If she's sitting up high enough, she kicks her feet in the air.

Sadie picks at her eyebrow hairs, eyelashes, and invisible facial hair. She cracks her knuckles, and it actually is intimidating. She often brushes the leather of her belt or holsters or hat, liking the texture there.

Molly was always told that "a proper lady shouldn't fidget, she should stay still and calm" but she still fidgets. Always using her hand mirror, or fixing her hair, or tapping her toes.

Grimshaw likes to say that she doesn't fidget. But she does, she does! She cracks her fingers, and when she sits down her feet are constantly changing their position. All ladylike, she swears. Her legs are getting achy in old age, she also says.

Arthur likes to fidget with his satchel, twisting the strap around his fingers and playing with the flap. He also plays with his horse's hair - Bessie taught him to braid so he does that silently and mindlessly with his horse's mane. He also scratches the back of his neck, and if his beard is long enough he plays with that. He scratches at his hair, too.

Charles usually doesn't fidget in the presence of others, but he holds his hands together. He also fidgets with either his necklace or other beadwork in his wardrobe. It's always done gently - none of the beads or thread has broken, and he's silently proud of that. If his hair is down or messy in any way, he fidgets with it trying to fix it.

Javier fidgets in making sure his clothes and weapons are in the correct places. He also likes to tap his fingers against his thumb, remembering songs and lyrics while doing so - tapping to a beat only he can hear and remember.

John likes to fidget by either biting or pressing into his fingernails. He also cracks his fingers, a habit he picked up from grimshaw. He also touches his face scars a lot - either thinking about shaving, or feeling the texture between his scars and unscarred skin.

Lenny is always brushing a hand over his hair, or tapping his fingers on his knee, palm, or any table he's sitting on. When he's reading, he has a habit of curing the page he's currently on. He has grown out of the habit of eating the corners of pages when he was a kid, though. With his pocket watch, he fidgets with the chain or lightly taps the glass.

Sean is always fidgeting with his jacket, and his hat. Putting his hands in his pockets, and moving his hands. When sitting down, he slowly rocks back and forth, not able to sit perfectly still (unless Karen is on his lap!).

Kieran likes to fidget by partially removing his foot's heel from his boot, then putting it back. He likes standing on one foot then kicking his other leg. Otherwise, he's pulling at his facial hair - that's why it's so patchy. He likes to brush the horses a lot, and runs hands down their coats like one would pet a cat.

Hosea fidgets with his hands - clenching and unclenching, playing with his fingers, twiddling his thumbs ect. When sitting (if he's having a good day) he bounces one leg like when he was a young man. He also messes with his fingernails - that's where John got the habit from - and used to bite his fingernails. He still keeps them short out of habit.

Dutch likes to fidget by playing with his rings and other finery. He has a special or old ring that spins, and he uses that a lot. Otherwise he clenches and unclenches his fist.

Strauss is always cleaning, repairing, and generally checking on his glasses. He also likes to play around with his necktie, and clear his throat. More than once it has got him sent to the doctor, by either his family or by the gang.

Swanson waves his arms around a little, and is more erratic about it when high or drunk. Think of a person running moving their arms, but at a walking speed - that's him. If he's got his bible with him, he sometimes closes the hardcover on his fingers - just enough for pressure, but not to hurt. He also bites his nails. When the rev got sober he still moves his arms around a lot, but ditched the nail-biting and finger-pressing for constantly intertwining his fingers together.

Bill runs his hands through his beard, or his horse's mane.. if he's got a bottle in hand, he taps on the glass. Bill also raps his knuckles with his fingers - he says its to look intimidating, but its just something that he picked up. Doesn't know from where.