#then in rise he came back and was- who woulda guessed it- boring again and I was like 'Y'all wanted this????'

[redphienix]

Gore Magala Disappointed Head Shakers unite

unironically one of my fave things about monhun is farming a monster and coming away from the experience thinking "That is one of THE MOST boring, bland, poorly made hunts in the entire series. I even tried using like 6 different weapons and it still wasn't fun!" and finding out that monster is considered a top 3 ever designed by general consensus but then a monster you could literally farm for a year straight and never get bored is considered bottom 10 of all time.

Unironically because like, we're both right!

Monhun is fucking sick because every monster is a set of rules that feel different to approach depending on what weapon you use, what support items you use, what general playstyle you have, what random niche tactic you like employing, what you value in a hunt, and just 30000% personal stuff you couldn't possibly quantify beyond "I like the it" "I don't like the it"!!

Monhun is so cool m,an

[xoxo-teddybear]

Oh, The Lies You Tell - Bakugou Katsuki - pt. 1

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, trauma, abuse, betrayal, fluff, slice of life, smut, cursing, manipulation, possible spoilers, physical harm, 18+

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Ep. Warnings: cursing, mentions of abuse and manipulation, slice of life(ish), manga spoilers!!

A/N: Ok so this is just what I daydream about, and since ima tv addict, I’m involving some “Avatar: The Last Airbender” related things, but a little different. This is more of an introduction to our character but I hope you enjoy!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

Summary: It’s Y/N’s first day at UA.....as a “former” villain

“Y/N L/N. She’s a new transfer student. Treat her with your respect and do your best to take care of her.” The tired teacher spoke.

“.......Hey. Please treat me well.” The intimidating girl said as she bowed in respect.

Now if you were to see Y/N on the streets as a stranger, you wouldn’t even think she would have this threatening aura. The class agreed. She’s gorgeous. From a far, you would think she’s a sweetheart, But the girl had a cold, calm stare in her E/C eyes. There was actually no way to describe it. It was just chilling to the bone.

Not only that, but it was clear you were a little rebel. Mainly because of the way you decided to change up your uniform. Your sleeves were torn off to make your button up top some sort of tight fitted turtle neck with a tie that was complimenting your busty figure. Especially since it was tightly tucked into your skirt, pressing against your torso instead of loosely sitting in there like the other girls. You also added a small dark brown belt to cover where your skirt and top meet. Your waist gave the perfect show of how curvaceous you truly were. Your thighs were deliciously thick and your ass must’ve been a perfect peach, considering it caused your skirt to seem a little too small for you. Instead of the typical shoes and knee high socks, you opted for thigh high dark brown leather boots that folded at the top to match your belt. No heel though, of course. Gotta keep it casual. You finished off your rebellious look with a pair of black leather fingerless gloves. Do you look like trouble? Yup. Do you look hot as hell though? You bet.

“You may be seated next to Katsuki Bakugou.” Your new teacher spoke. Before anybody else could give an indication of who this “Bakugou” boy was, an electric blonde spoke up.

“Be careful with that one pretty lady, he’s our resident hot head.” The boy spoke while the entire class giggled.

“Shut it dunce face.” Your eyes shifted from one blonde to another. This time with a spiky head of ash blonde hair and piercing red eyes. As you walk towards your new seat, you made eye contact with the spiky blonde, you saw the look on his face. Just like everyone else, a face of fear and shock, except this time the person didn’t know who you were.

Bakugou could definitely say upon first glance, you were definitely something fierce. It threw him off just how powerful your presence was. He quickly turned away as you took your seat.

As class began, everyone had their eyes on Y/N. Some admiring her beauty, others wary of her aura, and some too nervous to mention their newfound fear of her. In the middle of Mr. Aizawa’s boring lecture, a scratch at the door could be heard.

‘A scratch?’ Everyone thought. But Y/N knew exactly who it was.

When Mr. Aizawa went to open the door, in came what appears to be a wolf-dog. Mr. Aizawa seemed to casually accept it and just expected you to explain. He was too tired to deal with this crazy shit.

“Oh..there you are Rumor. Took you long enough to find this place.” The creature, also somehow intimidating, simply just huffed at the girl and layed down next to her seat in between her and Bakugou.

“L/N, please explain to the class why Rumor is here. They clearly seem to be confused.” Y/N looked around the room to see her new classmates staring at her and her furry friend.

“*sigh* he’s my animal companion.” You simply stated. Apparently it didn’t satisfy your peers because a freckled, green haired boy spoke up.

“Animal companion? Like a service dog?” The timid boy asked. You secretly rolled your eyes at the fact you’ll have to answer this question again. That is until Bakugou spoke.

“You damn nerd, if he was a service dog, she woulda said that now, don’t ‘cha think?” ‘Dunce face and a damn nerd huh? Wonder what new nickname this hedgehog will give me.’ Your little quip made you give the smallest smile with a quiet laugh to yourself

What you didnt realize was that during your little moment, Bakugou was watching you the entire time. He fought the blush that was threatening to rise and successfully won. ‘The hell?’ Bakugou thought. Since when did he blush?

“He’s right. Rumor isn’t my service dog, he’s my animal companion. And no, not my pet. He’s more like a close friend. My best friend if anything. He’s also not a dog either, he’s a changeling.” You explained hoping someone else knew what a changeling was. Thankfully, the “damn nerd” did.

“Changeling? I thought they were just a myth.” He said. “What the heck is a changeling, Deku?” You turned and saw it was a girl with a round face and pink cheeks. ‘Deku? How rude’ you thought to yourself.

“Changelings were rumored to be magical like beasts who could take the form of any animal they chose. Those forms could be as real as eagles and bears or as mythical as dragons and unicorns. They could also change the size of their form too. Am I right, L/N?” Deku asked you.

“You’re completely right, Deku.” The green haired boy blushed at his nickname on your tongue. “Rumor can be any creature I command. His wolf-dog form is his casual form though. It’s the form he took at birth I guess.”

“You guess?” Bakugou asked.

“Yes, I guess. I didn’t have Rumor since he was born. I found him while I was on a walk in the forest. We just clicked, and he followed me home. That’s when I discovered his powers and what he was, and seeing that changelings were only rumored to have existed, I thought it would’ve been a fitting name. We’ve been together ever since, and not only does he work as a friend, he’s a fighter too. He’s like a partner to me which is exactly why principle Nezu allowed him to attend UA with me. I guess you could say he’s part of my...uhm..quirk” You thoroughly explained. You couldn’t help it. You loved talking about Rumor. He was your best friend and definitely one of a kind.

Rumor looked up at you and barked. You turned to pet him on the head and gave him a little smile. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the resident hot head, which once again caused him to fight back a blush. ‘The fuck is going on with me today?’ The blonde thought to himself. Finally satisfied with the answers, the class picked up where they left off and continued to learn about quirks which didn’t seem all that useful to you since....you don’t have one.

——————————————————————————

Later

“Remember, we will all be meeting at gym gamma tomorrow morning, so don’t bother coming to the classroom. Just meet up there with any comfortable gym wear.” Mr. Aizawa said at the end of the day.

“Yes sir!” The class all said. “L/N stay behind, I need to speak to you and Rumor.” The tired teacher said with a yawn.

“Yes sir.” You calmly replied.

As the class gathered their things to leave, some came up to speak to you. First it was Deku and the round faced girl.

“Welcome to UA L/N. My name is Izuku Midoriya!” Deku said.

“Oh my apologies. I thought I heard that your name was Deku.” You said so nonchalantly with your sweet voice.

“Well it’s just a nickname that started up with Kacchan.” The boy was now blushing in slight embarrassment while rubbing the back of his head.

“Kacchan? I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is.” You said.

“Oh right! My bad, Kacchan is Bakugou. It’s a name I gave him during our childhood.” He stated.

“Seems a little mean.” You chuckled

“Yeah but he’s always been like that.” The boy smiled with a small laugh.

“I think I can tell. He must be really nice to Deku and Dunce face.”

You both shared a laugh at your little sarcastic poke at the explosive blonde that the girl was feeling a little left out.

“Anyways, I’m Ochako Uraraka! I was really hoping I could talk to you more but Deku over here can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.” the girl slightly teased.

“Meh. No worries. We’re gonna be stuck together for the next few years. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.” You so kindly spoke as you gathered your stuff.

“Totally! We can-“ Uraraka was cut off by a very handsome two toned boy with a scar. He definitely reminded you of some you knew. You watched as he came up to speak to Midoriya.

“Hey, Midoriya. Did you want to...” you tuned out his conversation. You simply just stared at him in awe. No doubt about it. He was definitely Dabi’s brother. But he was a whole lot more handsome.

The boy caught onto your staring and introduced himself.

“Hello L/N, my name is Shoto Todoroki. You may know me from my father, Endeavor, but I assure you, I’m nothing like him. In fact it’s safe to say I hate him.” He stated ever so calmly. ‘Wow. So blunt. And I guess hating Endeavor runs in the family’

“Hey it’s fine. I get it, daddy issues.” You nervously laughed but this seemed to strike an interest in Todoroki as he seem to have wanted to continue bashing both of your fathers until he was interrupted by Bakugou.

“You’re in my way Icy-hot.” ‘Jeez, another nickname?’ You thought.

“Then move to another side.” Todoroki quickly came back with.

This caused you to now openly give a quiet laugh, you could already tell what kind of relationship those two have. During your small laugh, Bakugou once again caught himself staring, except this time, he was caught. And it was by you.

You both made eye contact once again. As he stared into your E/C colored eyes, and you stared into his rubied gems, you both grew a slight blush on your cheeks and the 3 standing next to you both took notice.

“Hey..” you sweetly said.

“..........hey.” He replied and quickly looked away embarrassed. That peaceful little moment made your heart stir. Something that hasn’t happened in a long time. If felt calming, loving, happy...and weird and confusing. Thankfully, Dunce face came up to flip the switch.

“Wow Kacchaaannn,” the electric blonde said wiggling his brows. “Never seen you blush like that. You got a little crush on the new gir-“

“SHUT UP SPARK PLUG!” Bakugou exclaimed as he quickly made his way out of the classroom.

“Hey why you gotta be so mean all the time man!” Dunce face cried out.

“I SAID SHUT UP” Bakugou screamed from down the hall. ‘Well he certainly is interesting.....and cute’

“Ah jeez, whatever,” the blonde sighed before you seemed to have caught his attention.

“Well hey there pretty lady,” he started “I’m Denki Kaminari and you are one gorgeous girl. And you definitely got a rockin’ bod-“ he was cut off by our scary teacher.

“That’s enough Kaminari, I need to speak to L/N. Now all of you, out.” He commanded.

They all took their leave thinking about how cool and kind you were. Oh how wrong they were. The little act you put up sure was convincible. Hell, the only thing you genuinely meant was that Todoroki and Bakugou were cute and the blush that came up whenever Bakugou stared at you. You still couldn’t explain it but you brushed it off.

When all were gone, you mentally took notes of their names and possible quirks.

Izuku Midoriya. Alias: Damn Nerd and Deku. Quirk: unknown.

Ochako Uraraka. Alias: unknown. Quirk: unknown.

Shoto Todoroki. Alias: Icy-hot. Quirk: possibly related to cold and heat

Denki Kaminari. Alias: Dunce Face and Spark Plug. Quirk: possibly related to electricity

Katsuki Bakugou. Alias: Kacchan. Quirk: unknown

“L/N.” Your teacher snapped you out of your quick thought and got you focused.

“You seemed to be very comfortable with telling them about Rumor.” Mr. Aizawa said with an eyebrow raised.

“Well he is my best friend. I could go on and on about Rumor for hours if people didn’t stop me. And you can’t lie, he is pretty interesting. Especially his fighting style. You would know all about that, wouldn’t you....Eraser Head?” You said with a sinister smile.

You were well aware that Aizawa knew Rumor’s capabilities very well. You were also aware he knew much about yours too. I mean, you both have fought each other before. And one of you almost didn’t make it out alive. Hint hint, it wasn’t you.

“You are to address me as Aizawa Sensei or Mr. Aizawa, Titania.” He sternly said.

“Ouch, the villain name? I thought the past was the past. There’s a good inside me, dont you remember? You were the one who said it after all. You were even the one who recommended an S-Class villain like me should join UA.” You snidely replied.

*flashback*

As you fought against the skilled pro, you could tell he was getting weaker and weaker by the second. You used your air bending to push him back, crushing him into the wall, and keep him far away. Before you could send Rumor in to finish the job, a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Kurogiri? What are you doing here?” You stopped fighting and quickly turned to your superior in a fearful and shaky manner. Although you were much stronger than him and could easily take him down, you knew better. Your mind had already been so manipulated into thinking you were the weakest villain in the league, when it reality, you were strong enough to take down Shigaraki in a snap...but you didn’t need to know that.

Eraser Head, too tired and beaten to even pick himself up off the ground watched the interaction from the distance.

“You were told to collect intel, not fight a pro.” The black fog stated.

“Well yes, but he tried to stop me an-“ he silenced you with a smack to the face. Kurogiri was a respectful man...in ways...but he was just following orders on how to treat Y/N.

“If he tried to stop you, you run away.” He said, matter of factly.

“But he-“ once again, he cut you off but this time with a louder voice.

“But nothing! You were to gather intel and report back to base. Not fight. If you got into trouble, you are to run away, and use your bending and Rumor as assistance.” He stated.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry sir.” You said with your head bowed down in dishonor.

Aizawa could already tell from afar how controlled you were. In past fights, he’s noticed how you were so quick to succumb to any villain in the league, and you were always so willing to go back to them no matter how many times you could’ve ran away on your own. It was like they had something you needed, or more so it was them that you needed. For survival, perhaps?

“Did you even gather the information we needed?” Kurogiri asked.

Your silence gave him all the answers he needed. With a disappointing glare he reached for you, when you flinched at just the slighted movement, Aizawa knew something was wrong. Yes you were a villain, but it was clear you were also a manipulated child. So he acted quick, and attacked Kurogiri, knocking him out, and grabbed you. Before you both took off, you threw one of your earrings at kurorgiri’s unconscious body, knowing he’ll know what to do once he sees it. As he ran with you, he took notice of the animal behind him that followed you. When he finally landed on a cliff hanging over the city, he placed you down to sit on the grass and looked at you before speaking.

“I can see it. All of it. They’re controlling you aren’t they?” The pro-hero spoke.

“Excuse me? Nobody is controlling anybody! I choose to follow orders!” You yelled as Rumor came up to you.

“What is that thing?” Aizawa asked.

“He’s my friend and you won’t harm him!” You said while grabbing onto Rumor.

The pro took note of that word you used. Friend. Villains don’t have friends, they don’t have anybody but goons and partners in crime. Literally. You were definitely different compared to these other villains.

“I have no intentions on harming you or your friend.” The pro spoke.

“So what do you want with me.”

“....Simple. I want you to go to school, live in the dorm rooms, eat good food, train more to become better as a person and fighter, and make more friends. I see a good in you Titania, you deserve a good life. Not one controlled by villains where you do their bidding for what? Survival?” Aizawa said as he crossed his arms while looking at you.

You were in shock. He was able to figure you out. Well, he figured out why you were with the league. Survival. But it doesn’t matter, you were so brainwashed that you were convinced anyone outside the league wanted to kill you...at least that’s what the LOV told you.

“I don’t want to go to school, I want to go back home to the league.” You said while looking down and holding onto your furry friend.

“Home? UA could give you a better home.”

You looked up in shocked at his words. He wanted you to attend school at UA? You know that place. That’s the one place where the league has been so invested in ever since All Might joined the staff there. Suddenly, an idea came into thought. You knew exactly how you were gonna get into the league’s good graces and out of the cold shadow.

“UA?....That’s where you want me to go? How the hell am I supposed to get in there? I’m a known villain genius.” You sarcastically said.

“A villain hidden behind a full face mask. People don’t know your true identity, and did you ever think that maybe the league wants it that way?” He said

“Are you saying you know who I truly am?” You questioned him.

“No, but that doesn’t matter right now. If you want to go to UA, I can help you. I’m a teacher there and I can put in a good word for you. Sure it will take a lot of convincing but I’m willing to do it. Using UA as a reformatory program for you could be benefitting you in more ways than one. So if going to UA is what you really want, I’m more than happy to help you Titania.”

You couldn’t believe it. Your heart was so excited. You were finally going to get away from this horrible life of crime and killing. Away from the abuse and blood. Away from the league. But your brain was telling you to deny it all. You were safer with the league, everyone is out to get you, and you will die without the villains help. But a bark broke you out of thought.

You turned to your side to see what seems to be a smile on Rumor’s face. He was wagging his tail and sticking his tongue out while giving you puppy dog eyes. It appears he knew what was going on and he seemed excited. For your best friend, the world. So you gave in...happily.

“Y/N.” You said while getting up off the ground.

“Huh?” The pro spoke.

“My name is Y/N L/N, and I’d be happy to join UA.” You said with a smile and tears of joy filling you eyes. Rumor happily barked at the pro as well.

“Well alright then,” the pro said sticking out his hand for you to shake, “Y/N L/N, welcome to UA.”

As you shook his hand your smile held a thousand words. Happiness, excitement, villainy, and sin. Sure you were going to benefit yourself, but you were also going to benefit the league.

*Present Time*

“I was hoping I’d get more respect from you considering I was the one who got you into UA,” Aizawa tiredly said while turning his head towards the ceiling and crossing his arms. “But I guess that mischief and attitude just comes with the deal.”

“Correct.” You simply said.

“So are you willing to tell them what your “quirk” is? You seemed so open about Rumor, I thought your powers would be the same.” Aizawa pressed on.

“Not sure yet. I only just met the students. They seem nice.” You said while looking at your now very interesting shoes.

“They’re a crazy bunch, but they’re incredible friends. They could be great friends to you too Y/N.” You looked back up at him with hope, but quickly remembered why you were there in the first place.

The teacher took noticed of this and continued. “Either way, they’ll have to see what you got tomorrow. In gym gamma we’ll be doing some sparring including our quirks, so you’ll have to show them all that you can do.” He said.

He saw how that made you nervous. Not because you were scared to speak about or show your abilities, but because you knew you would be hit with thousands of questions. Oh how annoyed you must be.

“Understood.” You said to him as if you were a soldier. He won’t get used to that. He’ll have to make sure you know it’s ok to speak to people as..well people, and not like everyone is your superior.

“Good,” he began to walk to his yellow sleeping bag to pick it up, “now head to the front of the school. I left an escort for you to help guide you to your dorm room. That person will also be a guide in all things UA for you so be nice. You’ll be stuck with them for awhile. That is all, you can go now.”

As you and Rumor made your way to the front, you had so many questions going on in your mind. Should you make new friends or keep them at a distance? Should you completely drop the league and join UA? Should you blow your cover and expose why your truly there? What to do, what to do.

When you made it to the front, you finally saw your escort, and you couldn’t help but give a little smirk.

“Hey..”

A/N: If y’all wanna see the clothes that inspired Y/N’s uniform, check this out!!!

A/N: Damn guys, I know I’ve only just started writing but this is kinda the story I imagine in my mind at night. So I thought it would be fun to give it to reality. So here’s my first FanFic😅 hopefully it doesn’t turn out too terrible, but I promise to work on my skills and improve. Also, if you need a reference to what Y/N’s uniform looks like, search up “Akame from Akame Ga Kill.” That’s the look that heavily inspired Y/N’s new uniform. And if you’re confused on what the boots look like, search up “Lucy Heartfilia thigh high boots,” bc those are the EXACT boots I imagine on Y/N except in a darker brunette color to match the belt. Once again, NOT spell checked so my apologies for any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed pt. 1! And if this goes well, tell me if you’d like a pt. 2! I love to hear feedback! Thx <3

[trvelyans-archive]

There’s a woman at the end of the bar who won’t stop staring at Arthur.

At first, he thought maybe Colm sent her, but she doesn’t look like his type of woman. She’s a little too American for that bastard’s tastes. Then Arthur thought that maybe the bartender called her over to keep an eye on him, which he couldn’t blame the man for, really, considering the trouble he’s caused here lately. But it doesn’t seem like she’s watchin’ him for either of those reasons, really. If she was, she probably woulda made some sort of move sooner. She’s just… sittin’ there, with her eyes trained on him like he’s a Goddamn Christmas hog she’s gonna shoot and cook for dinner.

She’s pretty, too. He doesn’t much like that.

He downs his finger of whiskey with his left hand, his right hovering against the gun in his holster. (It’s a new one – pulled it off the body of some O’Driscoll he shot dead in the middle of the Heartlands the other night.) Not that he thinks she’s gonna shoot his head off, mind you, but it never hurts to be prepared around these parts, especially when he’s a couple of drinks into his evening already. It’s not doin’ much to help his pounding headache – being around that jackass Micah Bell for too long would do that to a man – but he’d rather sit here by his lonesome and wallow in his pain for a little while than be back at camp arguing with Dutch about… well, he’s sure they’d find something.

Seems all they do nowadays is argue. Or talk in a way that makes them feel like they’re not arguing when they really are.

He lowers his face to the tabletop, examining the cigarette cards he’s laid out to take a good look at, but out of the corner of his eye he can still see that woman watching him. She looks about twenty-five – might look older if he saw her in the sun when he was sober – and she has warm brown hair pulled into two braids on either side of her head, messy like she’d done them herself without a mirror (which he knows very well to be difficult, because Mary-Beth complains about it often when she begs Arthur to let her use his). She’s pale, too, with a face full of freckles and a handful of moles, and she’s got dark eyes like bullet holes, still pointed in his direction.

When she raises her arm, he half expects to hear a gunshot ring through the air, but she just gestures her cup towards him and takes a sip.

That’s when he realizes he’s been lookin’ too long, and perhaps that he’s drunk much more than he thought he did.

Unfortunately for him, even after shaking his head and forcing his attention back to the cards on the table, it’s only a couple seconds ‘til the seat across from him is pulled out and the woman sits down across from him. “Thought maybe you didn’t see me,” she says, placing her cup – empty – in front of his cards.

“Hard not to,” he replies, forcing himself not to meet her eyes. “Can’t quite ignore you when you’ve spent the past hour starin’ at me.”

“So you noticed.” She smiles. “Why didn’t’cha come up and say anythin’?” she asks, leaning forward to make sure he can see her.

He does lift his head up at that, though. “I, uh… didn’t think that’s what you’d wanted,” he replies, clearing his throat and reaching forward to grab one of the cards between two of his fingers, flipping it over to take a look at the writing on the back. “Thought maybe you were just waitin’ for me to cause some trouble and kick me out, and I didn’t intend on causin’ any sort of trouble tonight.”

“Mmm… A shame, that.”

He holds the card up higher, hoping it might hide some of the newfound heat rising on his cheeks.

“I’m Mabel.” She holds her right hand out to him from across the table, forcing him to put the card down so he can see her still smiling the same darlin’ smile. “Mabel Olsen. And your name is…”

“Arthur,” he replies before he can think better of it. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Arthur Morgan.” She clicks her tongue against the top of her teeth like she’s tasting the sound of his name in her mouth. “I like it.”

“Well, thank you,” he replies. “Can’t quite take all the credit for it, though.”

She laughs, leaning back in her chair and glancing around the room. Up close she looks just about the same as she did from the bar, but now he notices a couple of scars littered across her hands and shoulders, and her voice sounds much deeper than he thought it would. So she’s definitely older than twenty – twenty-five still seems like a good guess.

She’s definitely not as old as he is.

“What’re you doin’ in town tonight, Arthur Morgan?”

Hopefully nothing, he wants to say. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, after all – months, even, when he thinks about it. First, having to ride out of Blackwater with the whole gang after the ferry job went wrong, then hidin’ out in the mountains and freezing half to death every night, and now, after meeting those jackasses Milton and what’s-his-name when he was out with fishing with Jack last week, it seems like Arthur can’t quite catch a break at all nowadays without someone shooting at him or yelling at him to clean up someone else’s mess every hour or so.

He can’t tell her any of that, though. He doesn’t want to scare her off, even if she is interrupting his carefully made plans for a boring evening. Might be nice to keep her around and talk to her for a little while.

So, instead, he flattens one of his hands against the table, fiddling with his belt buckle underneath the table with the other. “Drinkin’,” he replies. “Lookin’ at these. You?”

“Drinkin’,” she responded. “Lookin’ at you.”

He’s lucky he finished his last drink before she came over. If he had been drinking when she said that, he would’ve choked on his whiskey. Even now, he just about chokes on thin air.

“What’s so special about these?” she questions suddenly, pushing herself up from her chair and bracing one of her arms against the table to lean on it. “Aren’t these just cigarette cards?”

“Well, yes, but…” He clears his throat, scrubbing a hand against his beard. “I like collectin’ them, I guess.”

She doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds. When she does, her voice is much quieter. “Used to know someone who liked collectin’ ‘em, too.” And then she smiles at him again. “He liked the famous gunslinger ones, though he couldn’t’a been less of a gunslinger himself if he tried. Which ones do you like?”

Arthur thinks about it for a moment. “I like the ones with all the animals on them,” he says, grabbing one and pushing it towards her. “And the horses.”

“The horses,” she repeats, then cocks her head at him and squints like she’s giving him a thorough inspections. “Are you a cowboy, Arthur Morgan?”

“You could say that,” he responds, finally smiling back at her.

“Do you collect anything else?”

He inhales deeply, pursing his lips as he thinks. “Don’t know if I mean to so much as I end up doing it accidentally,” he answers. His bag is full of little bits and pieces of things he picks up – feels like he can’t walk two steps without finding something that catches his eye. “But sure, I collect plenty of things. And I have a journal, too.”

He didn’t mean to say that – he normally doesn’t like to talk about his journal with people, because then they always ask to see it, and it’s much more boring and personal than they think it’s going to be if he does show them or they get offended when he doesn’t. “A journal,” she echoes. “’s funny. You look like some rough-and-tumble outlaw, but you got a soft side to you. I can tell already, if you collectin’ cigarette cards and writin’ in a journal wasn’t enough.”

“I guess,” he grumbles good-naturedly, lowering his head to look at his cards again. “Do you collect anything, Miss Olsen?”

She laughs. “Oh, don’t call me that, Arthur,” she says. “My mother would never stop rollin’ in her grave if you did. Mabel is fine. And no, I don’t. Don’t see much point in it.”

“Guess that’s true.”

“Might change my mind now, though.”

He clears his throat and forces himself to look around, to look at anywhere that isn’t her smiling face.

The bar is nowhere near full, even at this time of night in this nice weather. (Though maybe that’s why – some of the folk in Valentine might be out enjoyin’ it.) Mabel’s old seat near the bartender is still empty. She could go back to it, if she wanted to, or move to a table to talk to someone else, but she doesn’t. Instead she keeps sitting across from him, watching him, running a finger around the rim of her glass with the tip of her tongue sticking out between her bared teeth, like a wolf waiting to pounce.

“So what made you come over here?” he asks eventually, letting himself look at her again.

She shrugs. “Thought you looked interestin’,” she answers, “and you certainly are. Although I like just about any man that doesn’t offer to fuck me before he even buys me a God damn drink.”

Arthur clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know what to say to that, but now his mind is definitely beginning to fill with somewhat indecent thoughts he’d rather not dwell on.

“And I thought it’d be nice to talk to someone. Thought you’d actually want to talk to me.”

He frowns. “What’s that mean?”

She shrugs again. “Don’t quite know,” she says. “Just… thought we’d get along. Most people don’t like talkin’ to me after a little while, probably ‘cuz I like being a pain in the ass.”

He didn’t consider her to be a pain in the ass at all, and if there’s something that Arthur Morgan hates more than suckin’ snake venom out of another man’s leg and runnin’ out of bullets in the middle of a gunfight, it’s people – like God damn Micah Bell - who are a pain in the ass. So he chuckles, hopin’ it might make her feel better. “Believe me, I’ve talked to much worse.”

Mabel smiles back, to no surprise, but she seems to stiffen a little as he watches her. “Anyway, if you’re askin’ because you want me to leave you alone –“

“Hey, now, did I say that?”

That gives her pause. “No, I guess I just…” She purses her lips. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she finally says.

“Can’t much say the same for you,” he teases.

“Chicken shit.” She grins at him. “Now who’s being a pain in the ass? You stay here, file all your little cigarette cards away in your bag next to your... I dunno... hairbrush and mirror and hair pomade, and I’ll go get us some more drinks. You look like a whiskey man, Arthur. Are you a whiskey man?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Hang on, I can pay –“

Before he can finish, she pulls a heavy sack of what he assumes to be money from her bag and hefts it onto the table, where it lands with a loud thud. “Please,” she says, “let me.”

Arthur stares at it for a second and then looks up at her. “Maybe you are full of surprises.”

“Oh, I certainly am.” She stands up and rifles through the bag, completely ignoring the other patrons in the bar staring at them as she pulls a couple of bills from a stack. “Get a few more drinks in me and I’ll have even more surprises to show you, then.”

Before she heads off to the bar, she looks over her shoulder and gives him a playful wink that just about knocks the air out of his lungs, and all of a sudden Arthur is very, very glad that he isn’t going to have a boring night.

[hoitash]

Danger in the Woods

This is the second to last story of this series for the year. Enjoy.

I shall again spare you the weeks we spent traveling the forests towards the Barony of the Tall Trees. The more experienced I grew as a traveler, the more I learned how nice boring could be.

We managed to sell the mulled whiskey and double barrel pistols without a problem in the Barony, buying maple syrup and valuable lumbers in exchange. Water’s the best way to transport logs, of course, but not all wood floats that well, and there’s always some carpenter in the city looking to make a fancy dresser or desk.

Along with the official goods of the caravan, us apprentices also got a turn at selling our wares. George crowed for days how he sold his spices to a farmer’s wife, and Ellen nearly squealed in glee when I introduced her to a smith I knew through the Barony’s gunsmith. Unfortunately, the saltboxes remained with us, even after my demonstration. As I’d feared, cavalry had no use for the weapon because it required two hands to fire. Some of the foot militia seemed intrigued, but balked at the price. Still, I’d planted the idea in their heads, so hopefully they’d bite next time around.

Once we concluded our business in the Tall Trees, we continued south, entering the bordering woodlands between the Tall Trees and South Trees Barony. Ellen was still babbling about my friend’s idea as we entered the trees.

“A saucer!” Ellen exclaimed for the untold time, “Who woulda thought to make a scale into a saucer? We dropped it from the top of a bastion and it didn’t even scratch! This opens whole new markets with a whole new product! Why hasn’t anyone done this sooner?”

Walking next to the wagon, Sergeant Weber lifted the faceguard of his helmet to speak with us, “From what I hear, scales from adult dragons are a pain to work with, so all they’re really used for is armor. I guess no one thought to fiddle with the young one’s scales for anything once they realized they couldn’t be used for that.”

“They’re also harder to trade for,” George added, “I heard once dragons like to eat them for the minerals, or something.”

“Any idea who you’re planning to sell to?” I asked.

Ellen nodded, “The Islanders, I think.”

George opened his mouth to say something, when, after a brilliant flash of light, one of the guards a wagon ahead went flying past us. We all watched as the guard skidded to a halt on the trail like a skipped stone, a cloud of dust forming around him as he settled on the ground. He didn’t get up.

Weber’s head snapped forward and he lowered his faceguard, “Forward guards report!”

“Hans got hit by lightning!” one of the guards shouted.

I felt something in me stirring in fear, something I couldn’t explain at the time. Whatever it was resulted from my elven blood, and that did not bode well for future events. The other three, though wary, didn’t look nearly as concerned as I felt they should.

That changed with Weber’s next words.

“Fuck,” Weber grumbled, “Duster! Second Squad draw fire, First Squad with the wagons!”

“Anders, Gregg!” Braxton shouted from the first wagon, “Signal flares now!”

Us apprentices ducked down into the wagon while ahead the two journeymen pulled the flare guns strapped to their backs to fire. In front of us the driver worked the reins to speed up the horses, while the guard hefted himself up and readied his thunderbuss. Behind us Weber hopped onto the back step, grabbing the handlebar with his right hand while holding his crossbow with the left.

As the caravan sped up two of the guards stayed in the road to fire down the trail, into the seemingly empty forest ahead. Meanwhile the feeling in my blood rippled through my spine, forming a nearly immobilizing terror that made even focusing my eyes difficult.

“What the fuck is a duster doing here?” George snapped.

“The Tall Trees Baron lets the elves hunt in the woods in exchange for their spellweaving,” James replied.

Two bolts of lightning flashed by in rapid succession, blasting the remains of Squad Two and sending them flying back up the road. Weber swore and fired a shot from the direction the bolts had come from. The rest of the caravan guards did the same, while the riding guards hauled themselves up and leveled their thunderbusses. Anders and Gregg managed to fire their flares into the air just as a bolt shot through all four driving guards. The four slumped off the wagons onto the trail, the wagons bumping and crunching their bodies as they finally picked up speed past a quick trot.

“Serpent pattern!” Weber shouted, “On the double damn you!”

I swallowed and closed my eyes, ignoring the tingling scent of death in my nose as we picked up speed. Forward and above us the two red flares burst with a soft pop, while yet another blast of lightning hit something hard. I heard more swearing and the wagon jostled and for a moment we rode on just two wheels.

I risked opening my eyes and saw the lead wagon slowing thanks to it missing a horse and a good chunk of its right front. The second wagon swerved to speed past the first, the guard aboard firing into the nearby woods. A blast of lightning sent him crashing into and under the next wagon. The back wheel must’ve caught in one of his limbs because it seized up and sent the wagon swerving. The horses panicked and started trashing in their harnesses. Another blast turned one of the third wagon’s horses into chunks of meat, sending the remaining three into such a panic the wagon veered off the trail and into a tree. The guard with that wagon flew into the woods with a startled yelp.

Somehow our driver kept the horses calm. Using moves straight from an adventure tale, keeping barely two wheels on the road at times, he managed to swerve around the other three wagons to hurtle us ahead of the pack. This of course made us a giant target. Weber swore and fired his last two shots into the trees as another blast struck our front right wheel.

Weber hopped off the wagon just as the horses panicked and started hurtling forward. They didn’t get far because another blast hit the wagon hard enough to start it tipping over.

“Everyone out!” I shouted.

I dove from the wagon, managing a rough but safe tumble as another blast struck the wagon’s bottom. The horses, neighing wildly, either fell over or broke free to run for it. Ellen followed after me, landing badly on her right arm. With a pained shriek she stopped rolling onto her back. George and James tried to follow, but the second blast forced the wagon and all our supplies right on top of them.

Weber recovered first, managing to heft himself into a sitting position just before the duster used him to cushion his charge. Dazed as I was from my tumble, I could still make out the drug-addled elf, his long blue hair a tangled patchwork mess laden with twigs and leaves. His red eyes blazed with power as he glared at Weber, than me. I felt my elven blood throb in fear of my ancestors at their worst, while the duster quickly looked from me to Ellen, sprawled before the toppled wagon and trying to grab her flare gun from her back with her good arm. It was then I saw the box with the pistol, still closed and lying between me and Ellen.

I lunged for the box while the duster jumped toward Ellen, landing on top of her just a she pulled out her flare. The duster snarled and grabbed it, gripping with enough strength to crush the steel even as the metal burned his skin. Iron wasn’t lethal to elves or changelings, but it still left a nasty rash. That pain was likely the only thing protecting Ellen, and it wouldn’t last long. I grabbed the box and practically ripped off the lid to get to the weapon within, my fingernails cracking as I flung the lid free.

At a groaning sound I glanced to see Weber hauling himself up to reload and crank his crossbow. Ellen kept the duster at bay by shoving her knee between his legs as hard as she could, which based on the elf’s pained grunt was pretty hard. Grabbing the saltbox, I also grabbed three cartridges and yanked out the ramrod. Thankfully the cartridges were the type you just shoved into the barrel. In my haste to load the pistol I dropped a cartridge, but managed to pack the other two.

Weber continued to crank his crossbow as Ellen’s strength started to give. While a human might be stronger than a regular elf physically, the faerie dust meant that elf was stronger in terms of casting and brawn. Gritting my teeth, I readied the saltbox and fired the first shot into the air.

The elf groaned and lifted his hands to his ears as the shot barked out. Before he could recover I aimed the pistol as best I could and fired my second shot. The iron bullet tore through the elf’s head, splattering Ellen in blood and gore. The elf twitched in place for a few moments before collapsing on top of her. He didn’t move again.

Sagging in relief, I collapsed onto my back and stared up at the midday sky. The duster was dead, and so were two of my friends and a whole slew of other people. I heard someone step over to me and moved my head to see Weber above me.

“Gerry!” he called, probably a little dazed from the pistol shots as well, “You okay?”

I nodded, then stood up so fast I nearly hit Weber’s head and sent my own spinning from the sudden rise, “Ellen!”

With a grunt and a heave the elf’s corpse rolled off Ellen onto the ground next to her. Weber and I walked over to her to check her condition. Behind us I heard Braxton call for a headcount, and when the time came, the three of us called out our numbers.

“Shit,” I heard Braxton grumble as I focused on Ellen.

Weber knelt next to her and carefully pulled off her brown traveling cloak to get a look at her shoulder. She still clutched the crumpled flare gun in her left hand, and her breathing was shallow but steady. Lifting his faceguard, he gently poked and prodded her right arm a few times, Ellen’s reactions varying from a small jolt to a hiss of pain.

“Sorry,” he said, “the good news is it’s not broken, just dislocated. The bad news is resetting it is going to hurt. A lot.”

Ellen snorted, although it came out as more of a raspy wheeze, “Can’t imagine what that’s like.”

Weber grinned, “Guess you’re in better shape than I thought. Gerry, could you give her a cartridge to bite down on while I pop her arm back into place?”

I walked back to the box and grabbed one of the cartridges. Hauling the duster aside, I knelt on Ellen’s other side and held the cartridge by her face for her to bite. To our right I heard some forest rustling that sent us all on edge, but it turned out to be the guard who got sent flying into the woods.

Weber sighed in apparent relief, “Kris. Glad you’re still with us!”

The guard, his crossbow splintered and faceguard dented, managed a wry grin as he stumbled over to the other wagons. Ellen, having reluctantly bit down on the cartridge, waited as Weber prepared to pop her arm back into place. Rather than watch, I turned behind us to see what the remains of the caravan was up to.

Braxton, Gregg, and Anders were trying to wrestle the three other wagons back onto the trail. The stumbling guard tossed his broken crossbow onto one of the wagons and moved to calm down the few horses who hadn’t run off or died –mostly because they couldn’t break free of their ropes.

“You ready Ellen?” Weber asked.

Ellen grunted, “Do it.”

“On three,” the Sergeant said, “one, two, three!”

There was a sickening, fleshy clicking sound and Ellen groaned in pain. I reluctantly looked back to Ellen, who’s face sported a sheen of sweat as the cartridge bent in her mouth. After several ragged breaths her breathing returned to normal, and, reluctantly, she tested her relocated limb by slowly –and painfully judging by the wincing- moving her fingers.

“You’ll be a bit sore for a day or two and it’ll hurt for a while,” Weber explained, “but at least it’s not broken. Need a hand up?”

Ellen nodded and, with me on her left and Weber on her right, we managed to heft her up without hurting her any more. Weber grabbed her cloak off the ground and started forming it into a sling. Before he finished, the trees rustled again and three elves burst out to our left.

“Peace!” their leader, a female with long green hair, declared.

The three of us glared at the elves but relaxed when we saw her loincloth –a tacit sign that she wasn’t in her native lands. The two male elves behind her were similarly dressed.

Weber stepped forward, “I take it the duster was a part of your hunting party?”

The female elf nodded, “Yes. We were following him but could not attack when he came close to you, as we feared you would get hit as well. No apology can be great enough for what was done today, but we have come to offer what aid we can.”

One of the male elf’s pointed back up the trail, “Your smoke was spotted. A patrol is on the way.”

I looked behind us and, sure enough, heard the galloping of several horses despite the fading ringing in my ears. A moment later five men and their steeds charged into view, their colors that of the Barony and their double barrel pistols and sabers those of cavalry. When they got close enough to call out, their leader shouted a quick “Hail!” and started slowing. Three of the militia staid back, warily eyeing the elves, while the leader and his second trotted over to us.

“Good Heavens what a mess,” the leader, an older man with a graying brown beard, grumbled, “On behalf of the Baron I apologize for this incident. As the elves presence here is his responsibility, he will of course pay any wergild you deem fit.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The leader turned as Braxton walked over, his red Master cloak tattered but mostly intact.

“The Guild looks after its own. This was no one’s fault –dusters happen. Now then,” he focused on the three elves, “Several of our horses ran off down the trail. Could you please get them?”

The two male elves nodded and dashed up the road. Their leader slowly walked over to Ellen, who gritted her teeth and aimed the ruined flare gun at her.

“Stay away from me!” she snarled.

The elf held up her hands, “I merely wish to inspect your injury.”

“I’m fine,” Ellen growled.

“I could dull the pain for you.”

“She’ll pass out from shock soon enough,” Weber countered, “We should get her a flask to speed things along.”

“Here,” the militia leader tossed a small silver flask to Weber, who caught it, opened it, and handed it to Ellen. Ellen finally dropped the flare gun to guzzle the flask’s contents, leaving the elf to step back and give me a pointed look with dark violet eyes.

“You put him down,” she declared.

Ignoring the nervous chill rippling down my spine at the creature before me, I nodded.

She sniffed, “You smell of us.”

“I’m one fourth elf,” I explained.

She narrowed her eyes at me, “Elf does not kill elf.”

“You killed it?” the militia leader asked.

I turned to him and nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

“How?”

“Pistol.”

The militia leader blinked at me before focusing back on Braxton.

“If you need any further help let us know.”

Braxton nodded, “You could help us right our supply wagon.”

“Please,” the lead elf interjected, “allow me.”

The elf waited for Braxton to nod before extending her left hand toward the wagon, palm up. She folded her fingers into her palm and a swift breeze rushed in, lifting the wagon and turning it back onto its wheels. The supplies, most of them still intact if a bit battered, remained on the trail, but, one by one, the elf used her casting to lift the supplies back onto the crate. I turned away before I could see George and James’ remains, and Ellen did the same.

“What’s the damage?” I asked Braxton.

Braxton groaned and a ran a hand through his hair, “Well, all but two of our guards are dead, one of our drivers is dead, two apprentices dead…” he turned to the cavalry leader, “I know you’re not supposed to, but could you follow us into the South Trees Barony so we can send our dead to Heaven? We’re short on hands right now, and it would only be to the first clearing.”

The leader nodded, “Of course. I can also dispatch a runner to the South Trees to tell them of your predicament.”

“We’d appreciate that, thank you.”

The cavalry leader glanced behind him and barked at one of the three riders. The one on the left nodded and bolted south along the road. Along the way he passed Gregg, half his face singed from the blast that had taken out his wagon’s guard.

“I know it doesn’t mean much,” he said, “but somehow the goods survived.”

Braxton rolled his eyes, “Great. Best get back to work then –we still have a ways to go, after all.”

I slowly nodded and, squaring my shoulders, turned back to the supply wagon to get back to work.

[princess-julianna]

"Shit, you'd think I woulda remembered." she chuckled softly, shaking her head "I just have no brain right now..." She sighed out softly. Trinity eyed Nick, biting her lip to keep from snickering at his response to Keith. "Awww, that's so nice of you, Keith!" The other redhead cheesed to him before crawling into the very familiar back seat, and settling herself with the pillow and blanket. Trinny hummed appreciatively at the comfort brought by actually laying down and feeling safe.

She sighed heavily a moment later, a frown pulling her lips. She hated the thought that she no longer felt safe with her best friend. "Hey, Nick?" she called meekly, peeking open grey eyes to glance at him. "...what if this doesn't go well?" Her nose crinkled up at the thought. She hid her face in the blanket, wanting to hide the fear and tears in her eyes.

________________

Jayne's eyes widened as she listened to the blonde speak. She'd never considered what it would have looked like from her side, or even what had been happening before she came upon the scene. She swallowed thickly, sluggishly glancing at Jeanie before peeling the fabric off of her slightly clammy skin. "I'm okay..." she rasped quietly to the older woman before looking back to the blonde.

"W-what?" Her nose scrunched up. "N-no, no! he was running at you, he was gonna attack you!" The redhead trembled slightly as the tension rose. Jay swallowed thickly "... I didn't have a point to prove. I was trying to protect you." Her voice shook softly. "you think I would have wanted to kill a child?" She felt nausea swell in her stomach, whining softly as she leaned back, closer to Jeanie again.

She swallowed the the bile that wanted to rise in her throat once more, glancing back at the older woman. "I might wanna step away now..." she mumbled weakly, squirming uncomfortably. Her wounds ached, some open and some still needing care.

——————————

Keith grinned. “Yeeeeah, I’m real nice, ain’t I?” He happily took her previous spot in the passenger seat, getting himself situated. H glanced over his shoulder at Trinny’s inquiry, looking to Nick as the older man returned to the driver’s seat.

“Yeah?” Nick gripped the steering wheel in thought as he listened, silent for a long moment. He shifted the car into gear, pulling back into the highway. “….I guess my question to that would be….Why wouldn’t it go well?” He frowned at her behavior in the rear view mirror. “What is the worst that could happen? And why would the worst thing happen?” As much as he liked being the pessimist of the group, it ate at him how anxious she was. “Because I’m pretty sure the worst thing that could happen already did.”

———-

Julie clenched now shaking hands, nails digging into her palms. “He was running away. Away from the monsters who killed his family. And I-“ She gasped a few shaky sobs, her brow hardening as frustrated tears spilled down her cheeks. “-I was going to s-save him. He was looking right in my eyes and then-….he was….gone.”

She looked down and uncurled her fingers, staring at the nail marks on her shaking palms as if the blood of the creature were still there. She clenched her jaw at Jayne’s defenses, turning in her chair to whirl and point a finger at the redhead despite her frail state. “You did kill children. You made me kill children.” Her hand gripped the front of her shirt at the pain that bubbled in her chest. “Just because I wanted to help you. Because I loved you and wanted to keep you safe-“ She stopped herself suddenly, closing her mouth and swallowing and nausea gripped her stomach again. Pained blue eyes bore down on the hellhound for a long moment. She abruptly stood a second later, quickly walking into the bathroom and roughly shutting the door behind her.

Jeanie grimaced, disdain working it’s way into her expression. “Well let’s git on with it then,” she stated plainly, gathering up supplies in her arms. “Come sit on my bed and get yer shirt off. Take whatever bandages ya got off if ya can. I’ll give y’all new ones but I gotta get a good look at everythin’.” She started down the hall, pausing to sternly address her son. “And that one’s gonna need an IV if she can’t keep anything down. I’ll not have anybody dyin’ in my house, thank you very much. And I will not hear any whinin’ about it.” She turned to walk into her bedroom, dumping the contents of her arms onto the bedspread and letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “Christ almighty.”

Post Shitstorm cont’d

https://trinityjayneengland.tumblr.com/post/619294607246802944/post-shitstorm