#tobe fly

[goryhorroor]

horror directors + their most known movie + my favorite

[hidari-works]

[bigclownshoes]

thinking about how if haikyuu actually existed irl, my money would disappear so fast bc I would buy every single piece of msby, schweiden adlers and jpn national merch. Kageyama Tobio photocards?? Jerseys?? Signed volleyballs?? Hinata plushies?? Sendai Frogs better watch out bc I am COMING for that tsukki merch. I would genuinely be so feral for them it's actually insane

[lordcryosrealmoftrash]

Ya wanna know why I have the best best friend? Because even though I was an hour off wishing them happy birthday too early because of timezones, they were fully prepared to let it go. I would have never noticed being off had I not said another happy birthday in a server, and someone pointed it out. That's how my bestie is the best. They were gonna let me have it, and I appreciate and love them so much that I want people to know that they were doing this. @worldenoughntime ❤️

[cryystallos]

I think it’s like my 3 year anniversary of being a hetalian wow

[starrynightarchive]

this is so fucking embarrassing. barely 2 minutes into a haikyuu episode and there are already tears in my eyes

[i2sanrio]

ᜊ 烏野 tobe fly 彡 high.

[nandosf1news]

A little bit of rant

Just watching both Astons during the finish of the race hurt me even more than listening to the comment of that italian narrator (and trust me, it hurt a lot, I wanted to switch the TV off everytime he began to speak). Fernando seems to be pretty annoyed... err... not annoyed but literally fuming, skipped from the car as the first from the rest of the grid and disappeared immediatelly - and Lancito? He rants... like a lot – because there´s a bad tactics every F***** race, everyF***** weekend. No wonder they are both angry. As Nando and Lance said: unbeliveable. I agree with them. The car was better exactly as promised by the team, drivers did what they could – and dammit, the quali and practices were not bad. The pit crew worked damn well, the pitstops were faster… but the tactics somehow seemed tobe without the upgrades, to tell it mildly.

So, if the main tactician from Aston Martin disappears, no one remembers the spade in Fernando´s hands and the huge black plastic bag from Lance´s room, yes? (Remember, guys: bury the full bag three meters deep, use the calcium oxide, bury a big dead animal above – cca one meter deep and on the top you can plant some critically endangered flora. Next job is Lawrence´s: to hire new tactician. Problem solved.) Like, people, imagine if this happened to Max - he would gut everyone around and he would sound at least as in Hungary last year! Aston drivers were only upset a lot. Still, I would want to be a fly on the wall during the monday debriefing. That´s all... I go to have a drink.

(Not in a good mood...)

[littlefanficprincess]

Love For Theatre, Not Battle

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Previous Next

Trollhunters x fem reader

Chapter 2

Word count: 4.3K

Synopsis: Arrived at Troll market and already made an enemy, but a certain secret is revealed.

(A/n): Sorry it took long for this chapter to come out. Honestly I lowkey forgot about this story.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The three students looked with agaped mouths and wide eyes at the view. A huge town filled with trolls right under Arcadia. "This is..woah!" Toby exclaims in fascination.

"Pretty much. This is your home?" Jim questions Blinky, taking careful steps down the stairs. He was followed down by Toby and (Y/n). 

"Trollmarket is home, and heart, and sanctuary for all good Trolls" The six-eyed troll explains to the teens. "This way my friends, there's much to see" He leads them through the market.

"Dang! And here I thought the only thing underneath our town was dirt and plumbing" Toby comments, pulling out his phone.

"Stay close. Human feet have never graced the ground of Trollmarket before" Blinky warns as their small group walk past other trolls.

"So we're the first? This must be something Trolls have to get used to" (Y/n) repeats. She felt awkward as she felt the taller creatures glaring at her. 

"Human?" A female troll with a shrill voice calls, eyeing Toby.

Aaarrrgghh speeds up to walk next to the boy, he glares at the troll. "Friends" He corrects, growling.

"This is crazy! Are you getting this, Tobes?" Jim marvels, slinging an arm around his best friend.

Taking pictures of everything like tourists, Toby responds with "Oh yeah, on it!". His attention was then caught by the different gems. "Peridot, Topaz, Cassiterite! Corneroupi..." He realises that the last was in fact the skin of a troll. He scurries away, to catch up with the others.

"Your knowledge of minerals is almost Troll-like, Tobias" Blinky makes an observation, hearing the boy's rambling. 

"So, your kind, You all live here?" Jim asks, looking at the big Trolls walking past them.

"Trolls travel from afar to our market to find comfort and remedies. You'll find most anything you need and sometimes you'll find what you never knew you needed" Blinky elaborates, remembering when he and the others first arrived in Arcadia.

A shiver traveled up (Y/n)’s spine, as if someone was watching her. Her attention was caught by the sound of small footsteps beneath her. She turns her gaze down, finding a small humanoid creature with a pointy hat on its head. "Aw, hey there little lad" She crouches down, greeting the creature.

The creature growled, showing off its sharp teeth. It launches itself at the girl, making her stumble back. Luckily Jim was able to catch the girl by the forarms. "Woah! Not friendly" She yelps.

Rushing over to the two, Blinky stomps the ground, scaring the tiny menace away. "Look out! Get away! Get out of here! Vile vermin! Begone!"

"What is that?" Jim voices his curiosity and surprise. He pushes (Y/n) back onto her feet, getting a quick thank you. 

"Gnomes are vermin. Pickpockets, scum of the Earth! We only tolerate them for their grooming services. They eat the parasites on the larger Trolls" Blinky motions to Aaarrrgghh. On him appear three gnomes, which he flicks off.

"Guys! Check it out!" Toby calls out, pointing at the ginayborange crystal standing in the center of the market "Maximum coolosity there!"

"Woah..."

"Look at that, It's amazing!"

"Heartstone" Aaarrrgghh grunts the name of the stone.

"The lifeforce of Trollkind! The means that keeps us from crumbling to stone, and the source of light and sustenance!" The blue troll explains to the young humans.

"Okay, that's totally the bomb!" Toby grins.

"What are humans doing here?"

"Fleshbags!"

"Puny!"

A crowd of Trolls begin to form, remarks and calls flying through the air. Disgusting and anger appear on their faces, scowling at the appearance of humans.

"I think we've attracted the paparazzi" Toby comments, ignoring all the rude remarks.

Blinky steps forward, signaling to Jim "Friends, there is no need to be afraid, he is the Trollhunte-".

He was interrupted was a troll bursting through the crowd, "What is this!?" He yells. The troll was blue with broad shoulders, muscular arms. He had big, noticeable horns. And most interesting, crystals growing on his arms and back.

"I was just getting to that, Draal" Blinky responds. He steps back, feeling intimidated. 

 "Human feet have never sullied the ground of Trollmarket before. Who are these fleshbags?" Draal approaches Jim, getting close up to his face. He glares at the boy, showing off his sharp teeth. 

"Believe it or not, he is... um. How do I put this? Our new Trollhunter!" Blinky akwardly proclaims. It makes the crowd gasp in horror and shock. 

"He can't be the Trollhunter! He's not a troll!" Draal yells, slamming his fists into ground. It sends Jim almost falling, but was stopped by hitting against Aaarrrgghh's chest.

"Amulet chose" Aaarrrgghh states, not taking Draal's tantrum.

"Try to remain calm! Destiny is just-" Blinky tries to de-escalate the situation, but was cut off by Toby.

"Show him Jimbo!"

Jim retrieves the amulet from his pocket. He chants "For the power of Merli-"

"Glory" Blinky corrects.

"Right, sorry. For the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command!" He reads the incantation. Blue light releases from the amulet and in a blink of an eye was Jim wearing the armor. "Pretty cool, right?"

A nearby gnome scuttles off in fear. "A human protecting us?" A troll raises her eyebrows in suspicion, while a troll faints next to her.

"Bushagal! I am Draal, son of Kanjigar, and the amulet’s rightful heir!" The crystal blue troll says, placing his fist on his chest.

Jim's eyes widened at the new information. "Uh- You're his son?" He turns back to the others, "He's his son!?".

Letting out a small gasp as Blinky looks guilty away, Toby remarks "Yeah, I can see how this could be a problem".

(Y/n)'s eyebrows furrow as she wonders how the amulet works and how it chooses the next Trollhunter.

"When my father fell, the honor should've passed to me!" Draal reaches out and grabs the amulet, trying to pull it from the boy's chest. The action makes the amulet let out a wave of energy, blasting both Jim and Draal away, the former being caught by Aaarrrgghh.

"Amulet chose!" Aaarrrgghh repeats what he said earlier.

"We'll see what Vendel has to say about this" Draal threatens as the group walks off, leaving him in the dust.

Blinky smirks, replying "Feel free to fetch him. In the meanwhile, lots of Trollhunter business to be done! Draal, wonderful to see you as always". Jim gives a sheepish grin and a shrug, while (Y/n) tries to avoid eye contact. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

They arrive at the battleground, the place where Jim will be training. Jim's armor had disappeared due to him calming down. "Holy trolls! Is this a palace?" He yells out as he looks up at the many statues displayed.

They walk over a narrow path to the main area. While the two boys were goofing off, (Y/n) walks next to Blinky. "I have a question, if you don't mind" She chimes.

"Of Course not, lady..." Blinky pauses, realising he didn't know the girl's name.

"(Y/n)" She introduces herself. "So do you know how the Trollhunter is chosen? Draal's father is the previous Trollhunters, but instead of Draal, it chose Jim. It is confusing".

"As much as Draal finds receiving the amulet his birthright, it doesn't work as that. Almost all Trollhunters didn't have any younglings, Kanjigar was actually the only one to have a child. The amulet selects the one who wields it" The Troll tells the girl. Looking at each of the statues, his six eyes stop at the empty spot where there will be a statue of Kanjigar.

"Wait, are these?-" Jim asks, looking around at the statues.

"Trollhunters" Aaarrrgghh answers.

"Your predecessors, Master Jim. A line of heroism that reaches back to the ages of Merlin! This is the place of the final repose, Kanjigar the Courageous. One day, there will be a statue of you here, Master Jim. One day very far off into the future, of course." Blinky elaborates, motioning to the only empty spot.

"Yeah about that, there's just one thing I'm not getting" Toby speaks up.

"Just one?"

"You guys are Trolls, so "Trollhunter" sounds a little like you hunt yourselves, you know?" Toby questions, finding the name a bit confusing.

"Hunt bad trolls. Gumm-Gumms" The large troll with green fur clarifies.

"Didn't you say Gumm-Gumms are Trolls like Bular and G–" (Y/n) realises she almost named the troll she isn't even supposed to know, she clears her throat. "You separate yourselves from Trolls like him?"

"Not exactly the most terrifying name" Jim remarks, not being very intimidated by the name.

"In Troll-speak, Gumm-Gumm means "bringer of horrible, slow, painful, and thoroughly-calculated death". But do not be too concerned Master Jim. The Gumm-Gumms were exiled to the Darklands centuries ago. Only one roams free" Blinky assured the boy. He felt a bit suspicious of the girl, shaking it off because there would be no way she could know Gunmar.

"And wants to kill you" Aaarrrgghh adds, pointing to Jim.

"Wait, Bular is one of the unspeakably evil trolls?" Toby says in surprise.

"Indeed. His father and the rest of their number remain exiled to the Darklands, but they have been trying to escape for centuries. I sense ill times are upon us. Hence the need for us to begin Master Jim’s training now" Blinky was about to press a button but stops, instructing them to "Step back, please".

Aaarrrgghh, Jim, Toby and (Y/n) take a few steps back. Toby has a little further as Blinky tells him to.

"Very well" Blinky presses the button. From the walls came giant blades swinging, coming right for the four. They quickly run away to Dodge them, the boys just missing another blade coming out of the ground. (Y/n) was the first to rush to hide in a corner, followed by Jim and Toby clinging to the wall.

"Excellent reflexes, Master Jim" Blinky compliments the young trollhunter.

"Great, but maybe we could start off easy? Like you know, with less... grindy things?" Jim pants, feeling his heart pound in his chest.

"Blinkous Galadrigal!" A voice calls out. It makes Blinky scramble to deactivate the traps. Walking in was an elderly troll with long wite hair, his hands behind his back. "Blinkous Galadrigal"

"That's your name?" Jim raises his eyebrows at the horrified troll next to him.

"Horrible, I know" Blinky mutters, ashamed.

"I wish to meet the fleshbag supposedly chosen by the amulet" The elderly troll says, before turning to (Y/n). "I am Vendel, son of Rundle, son of Kilfred".

"Uh well... My name is (Y/n), daughter of..." The teen girl trails off, remembering that she has forgotten her parents' names a long time ago.

"I think I'm the fleshbag that you're looking for" Jim speaks up, showing off the amulet. Aaarrrgghh points at it "Amulet chose".

"Hmmm, so Draal tells me, ridiculous! However the amulet has been known to make ill-fated choices" Vendel turns to a guilty looking Blinky "as you know better than most".

"What's that mean?" Jim asks Aaarrrgghh.

Aaarrrgghh points at a statue of a scared Trollhunter "Blinky trained Trollhunter before. Unkar, “the Unfortunate.” First night out. Torn".

"Like, conflicted?"

"No. Limb from limb" Aaarrrgghh bluntly clarifies. An arm breaks from the statue, almost falling onto Toby.

"If the amulet chose true, the Soothscryer will reveal it" Vendel points to the ground, where there were a pair of troll feet dents in it.

"Please! Master Jim hasn't had even an hour’s training!" Blinky begs him.

Vendel wasn't interested in hearing any of it, pointing at the dents. Hesitantly, Jim walks over and stands on them. Parts of the floor lights up, a trolling looking thing made of stone rises up. It opens its mouth, showing stone teeth.

"Behold, the Soothscryer! It will judge your true spirit! Insert your right hand, Trollhunter" Vendel announces, he instructs Jim.

"Um, I'm gonna get it back, right?" Jim asks, eyeing the sharp teeth of the Soothscryer.

"That is part of the test" Vendel grins ominously, which didn't make teen feel any better.

"Oh great" He mumbles, before whispering "Tobes, Tobes! Come here and help me!". 

Toby runs over to help his friend, (Y/n) follows behind him. The two put their hands down for Jim to step on. 

Jim puts his foot on it, his friends boosting him up. He watches as the thing turns on, the teeth spinning around and another part opening and closing. He reaches his arm in which and the Soothscryer's mouth closes, trapping Jim's arm. He screams, kicking his feet around, which hit Toby each time.

The Soothscryer open its mouth, releasing Jim. He falls back, falling on top of Toby. (Y/n) cringes at the pain they were probably feeling. Jim checks his arm, seeing that it was still attached to the rest of his body. "I'm okay!" He cheers.

"Oh, everything hurts!" Toby groans. He looks up at Vendel with curiousity, "Well? What it is it?" He asks.

Vendel hums as the eyes of Soothscryer light up, "Inconclusive" He answers.

"Inconclusive? Pfft, not doing that again" Toby huffs, Jim still laying on top of him.

"Wait, wait, wait. What does “inconclusive” mean?" Jim asks the elderly troll desperately.

"It means, Trollhunter, that there's never been a human to bear the mantle before. The Soothscryer needs more time to render its judgement. Let us all hope you live long enough to see" Vendel clarifies, before walking off.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Wider stance. Keep your frame. No, that's good, that's good. Yes, all right, fine. That's better” Blinky walks around Jim, correcting his posture.

They were once again in the Hero’s forge, training the Trollhunter. Aaarrrgghh, Toby and (Y/n) were sitting on the side, watching it all.

“All right. Raise your sword, Master Jim. Mm-hmm. Head up, chin out, stomach in”

Aaarrrgghh eats the contents of a paper bag Toby brought, letting out a burp. “Mmm. What's this?”.

“Dander from my Nana's Persian and a couple of hairballs” Toby answers, smugly.

“Tasty”

As much it was interesting how different a troll’s diet is. It disgusted (Y/n), not even wanting to imagine how it tastes.

“The Trollhunter lives and dies by three rules. Rule number one: always be afraid” Blinky explains, holding up his index finger.

“"Afraid?" Jim repeats in confusion.

“Be afraid” Aaarrrgghh echoes.

“Yeah, I don't think that'll be a problem. Whoa!” The Raven haired boy yelped as he just dodged a rock thrown by Blinky. 

“See? Fear is good. Keeps us alert. Keeps us on guard. Makes us vigilant. A hero is not he who is fearless, but he who is not stopped by it” Blinky says, enthousiaste. Before tossing more rocks towards the hero in training.

“Got it”

“Two: always finish the fight. An opponent must be given no mercy” The blue troll tells, continuing to send rocks off towards Jim. The mentioned boy blocked them with his sword.

“Quite a brutish culture they have here” (Y/n) comments, comparing it to the one she knew back in Camelot.

“I mean they eat trash, and are huge and muscly. I am not that surprised” Toby replies.

“Okay, enough with the rocks, already” Jim pants. “Always finish the fight?” He questions. He proceeded to get hit in the back of the head by a rock thrown by Aaarrrgghh.

“Kill” Aaarrrgghh clarifies. Toby points at the large troll before he could be blamed, the mentioned troll grinning.

“Indeed. The Trollhunter must always vanquish his opponent through death. And the third rule: when in doubt, always kick them in the Gronk-nuks” Blinky holds up three fingers, with a straight face.

“Gronk-nuks?”

Blinky stomps his foot and a giant scythe emerged from the ground, almost gracing Jim’s crotch. Aaarrrgghh and Toby shiver in the implication, “The horror” the former mutters. The girl next to them looks confused, not understanding which body part they were referring to.

“So, basically, you're saying that one-third of being a Trollhunter is kicking someone in the nards” Jim raises his eyebrows, finding the rule odd.

The conversation was interrupted by a familiar voice. Walking in was Draal. “Ah! So, the Trollhunter's training begins. I thought the great Trollhunter might accept my services as a sparring partner. Part of your training regiment, isn't it?” He grins, looking down at the human.

“In due time” Blinky answered, brushing off the idea.

“Why wait?” Above was Vendel, observing everything from the stands. “ I am eager to see your charge demonstrate his mettle”.

“Actually, the sword's more made of, like, daylight” Jim mentions, thinking the elderly troll said ‘metal’.

“He means your mettle, your ability to cope in the face of adversity” Blinky explains to the boy.

“Oh. Yeah, I'm still working on the whole "mettle" part. Plus, you know, SAT words” Jim says awkwardly.

Vendel chuckles, announcing “Let them spar”.

“No harm innit’” Draal smirks, walking to the other side of the arena.

Jim chases after Blinky, who was strolling off. “Wait, what do I do?” He asks, worried.

“Hit him as hard as you can”

“No, no. I mean, what do I do? I've never hit anyone”

The troll looks back at him in surprise “Ever?”

“I've never gotten into a fight”

“All 15 years of it, yeah”

Blinky reminds him of when he ‘fought’ Bular. The boy tells him that it was just his cooking skills, trying to get himself out of fighting a creature who was way stronger than him.

His argument didn’t work as Blinky pushes him forward and walks off. Vendel announces the beginning of the fight.

Standing anxiously ready, Jim watches as Draal roars and slams his fists into the ground. He rushes at the human boy.

“One hit…” Jim mutters to himself. He yells in surprise when Draal suddenly rolls into a ball, who he dodges by running away. Draal rolls up the wall, flying up into the air. He uncurls himself, he readies his fist as he aims right for him.

Jim gets out of the way, almost getting launched away from the wind coming from the collision. Dust covers the surrounding area, making it almost impossible for him to see anything. He then gets rammed in the side by Draal using his horns.

“All right, all right. Now, just give me a second here” Jim groans, using his sword to get up. He in fact did not get a second as Draal punches him twice and then picks him up and punches him again. It sends him flying, he hits the ground with his sword disappearing.

Draal picks him up, walking over the edge of the arena. Jim grabs onto his big arm as he sees the unending pit under him.

“Let him go!” Toby yells at him. Aaarrrgghh had to stop the two teens from running in and helping their friend. He didn't want to see Jim hurt but this wasn’t their fight.

“I've waited my entire life to inherit the amulet. I can wait until you fall in battle” Draal glares at Jim, tightening his grip on him. He drops the boy, continuing “I suspect I won't have to wait very long. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay down and live, worm” He walks away, laughing. “Troll Hunter”

Vendel sighs, disappointed. He turns away and disappears. 

(Y/n) watches as Draal leaves the arena, glaring daggers into his back. She didn't notice her hair began to float up with her eyes gaining a slight glow. She snaps out of it when she sees Toby looking shocked at her. She tenses up as her hair falls back down.

She remembers that Jim was still on the ground. She rushes over and helps him up. He slightly groans, leaning against her. He seemed to soften a bit from her touch. The armor fades, the amulet falling into his open hand.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“He might be right. What the heck was I thinking? An amulet can't choose anyone. It's an amulet” Jim claims walking towards the exit of Trollmarket, the others following not far behind him.

“Jim?” Aaarrrgghh mutters feeling pity for the boy.

“I understand you're upset, Master Jim, but you've had not a moment's training. There's no shame in what just transpired” Blinky tries to assure him, it hurts him seeing Jim like this.

Jim gets on the first step of the crystal stairs, he turns towards his mentor. “Okay. Well, then you were definitely not paying attention back there. Shame was about the only thing that transpired. Shame…” He sighs, “and realization. I don't know if Draal should be the Trollhunter or not, and I don't care. I just know that I am not”.

He takes the amulet out of pocket, tossing it away. Blinky picks up, “Master Jim, despite whatever doubts you may have about the amulet's choice, it is now bonded to you. This is a mantle you cannot refuse”. The magical object flies from his palm and right towards Jim, who catches it before it could hit his face.

“Watch me” Jim drops it once again, walking up the stairs.

The two Trolls walking back towards Trollmarket, defeated. Toby waited until they were out of sight, he turned to (Y/n), “Okay, so, what was that whole hair floating thing?” He questions her.

She had hoped he wouldn't mention it, now she had to come up with some excuse. She wanted to not bring too much information to herself until she found her spellbook and could get back to her own time.”So there is a lot going on right now and I am still figuring it out myself, can you please not tell anyone” She puts her hands together, pleading.

Toby pauzes, thinking about. “Alright, but if keeping the secret brings me or Jim is in danger, the deal is ofg” He says, holding out his hand.

Grabbing his hand, (Y/n) shakes it. “Good to see we have come to an agreement”.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

(Y/n) walks alongside Claire and Darci, walking out of the gym after Claire’s rehearsal. They pass the lockers, finding Steve cornering Jim. 

“–but that's what's going to happen unless you want to back down” The bully threatens.

“Uh, I-I can do that?” Jim stutters, curious and nervous.

“Sure. You want to crawl away from me, on your knees, bowing in front of everybody?” Steve chuckles. “That's a choice”.

Hesitantly, Jim drops his bag and bows down before Steve.

Watching it all, (Y/n) frowns. She assumed that what Draal did to him must’ve given a blow to his confidence, he body is probably still sore from the heating he took.

“Whoa! I didn't expect you to actually choose wussing over whooping” Steve taunts him, looking down at his pathetic form. 

Jim glances at the side, towards the others. Claire was looking at him with a saddened expression, Toby was giving Steve an angry look and (Y/n) seemed disappointed, hoping that he would stand up for himself.

He pushes himself back up to his feet, facing his bully head on. Steve pushes him against the locker and sends a punch his way, which Jim dodges. The fight was oddly similar to the one he had with Draal. “Keep still so I can punch your face!”.

After multiple tries, Steve finally gets a hit on him. Jim falls to the ground, right next to his bag. He spots the amulet glowing in his bag, he reaches for it but stops himself.

“Stay down and live, worm”

Jim stands up, tightening his fist. “Is that all you got?” He glares at the blond, who begins to walk towards him.

The fight was interrupted by Claire jumping in between them. “Leave him alone, Steve!” She yells, trying to break them up.

Steve pushes her aside, where she is caught by (Y/n) and Darci. “Butt out!” He exclaims.

“Do you have any respect, rascal?” (Y/n) spat at the brute. It was one thing that he attacked Jim, it’s another when he goes after Claire.

“Good thing your mom's a nurse” Steve laughs, raising his fist.

“One hit…” Jim mumbles. He tightens his fist before upper cutting Steve. The asshole falls back, hitting the ground. The force even made a tooth fly out of his mouth, landing next to his half-awake body.

“She's a doctor, actually” Jim corrects him, panting from the rush he just experienced.

Students cheer, happy to see someone finally fight back against him.

“Dude, you did it! And without even kicking him in the Gronk-nuks!” Toby runs over to his best friend (while stepping on Steve’s arm), punching him on the shoulder.

“Great job” (Y/n) smiles, happy to see his confidence had returned.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

In Trollmarket Draal sat at the bar with other trolls on each side of him. “It was an epic pummeling! I was going to kill him, but I just couldn't make up my mind as to how. ‘Trollhunter’” He scoffs, "I mean, ‘troll hunted’ is more like i”. He laughs glancing towards the table where Aaarrrgghh and Blinky were seated. 

“If only Master Jim had landed a single hit” Blinky whispers, regretful.

“Single hit” Aaarrrgghh repeats.

“And he would have been changed forever!”

“Over and over and over. It was incredible! All I want is the chance to wail on that fleshbag again” Draal raises his cup, about to take another sip.

A hand grabs the rim of it, slamming it back down on the table. “Wish granted, loudmouth. Rematch. You. Me. Name the time, name the place, and I'll be there” Jim challenges him.

“All of us will” Toby adds. His human companions standing next to Trollhunter, standing strong.

Blinky and Aaarrrgghh’s jaw drop to the floor, not believing what they were seeing. “Changed forever” Aaarrrgghh says, surprised.

Draal gets up, standing tall. He glares down at the boy, but Jim doesn't back down. He was ready for round two.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[kings-highway]

i swore that my haikyuu fixation had flopped over (fact that brought me much grief) until i saw the notif for the third chapter of summer of monsters. the creature inside me opened its eyes and sang tobe fly at the top of its lungs

haha! take that! i'll drag you kicking and screaming back into the fandom as many times as I need to

[lockandkeyhyena]

If it's alright to ask umm how do you get the courage to join maps?

I used to do join maps a lot when I was younger but now in this era is it wrong to say it's a bit too professional? I kind of want to host a spoof map with vine audio bits and have beginners and intermediate artists have fun with it but I don't think it'll fly

idk what even happened to this space! What caused this crunch culture to happen?

oh man youre asking the wrong person. i used tobe totally chill about joining maps but due to certain people the thought now fills me with anxiety.

if most maps feel too professional for you (and, i agree, theyre expecting alot of literal children) i’d recommend searching for open maps by newest, you can find some nice casual ones there.

if anyone who actually currently joins maps sees this, feel free to voice your opinions in the comments or rbs!

[annabelle-creart]

The day I became. Part one

Au: Trollhunter Claire/Mentor Angor au

Aclarations: Jim will not handle the Dark Stuff, not in this Au, this is a swap Au but not that kind of

The fics are canon, the shenanigans can be decanonized if needed

-------

Today was... a weird day, you'll see

Claire woke up with her new alarm, her baby brother's cries, and it was terrible, she would never judge him, he's a baby and babies do that, but that didn't mean she was happy for Enrique to wake her up at 3 in the morning, she inmediatly got back to sleep and wake up at 7:00 AM, but took her like 10 minutes of self-reflection to get out of bed. She got to bath, took her another five minutes to recover from sleep while washing, unfortunately water was too cold for that but what could she do? She already lost time by getting out of bed. She put at her fave shirt, a papa skull t-shirt she got thanks to an auntie, a jacket, leggings and skirt that made the perfect monochrome combination, which was part of her nowadays fashion-phase, clips to keep her hair in order because curls will always be a problem and hair straightener wasn't a solution all days, and everything was okay until she saw clock

"Shit- is late!" She exclaimed to herself, took her bag and ran down stairs to the kitchen, her mom passed quickly with eyes on her phone

"Good morning- PUTA!" Ophelia exclaimed just before stepping her toe onto the kitchen's land for being distracted

"Honey, are you okay?" Javier asked worried, kind of stupid question but he said it by pure instinct

"Yeah" Ophelia barely said "I'm late" she saved her phone on bag and gave both Javier and Claire a kiss and went in a hurry, the next thing they heard was Ophelia's car

Claire ate her breakfast as fast and could, kissed her dad and ran to get her bike, she didn't want to but the fast route was under the bridge, and the fastest route was through the trees

Claire drove as fast as could, focused to get early-

"Hi, Claire!" A sure but funny voice was heard behind her, a chubby guy dressed in orange and red also in his own bike, the guy ringed a bell but she didn't remember his name, finally, she slowed down look behind- Oh my God! She inmediatly looked towards and laughed a bit nerviously before replying to keep herself calm

"Jim! Hi! Hehe- time without seeing ya!"

...time? She literally saw him yesterday! Damn it, Jim Lake! Couldn't come in a worst moment?!

"Hi, Claire! Is nice to see you too!" Jim smiled at her with such a cute aura, damn! He was so gentle when he speaked- how could he! "Don't you mind if we make you company?"

"Ah- no! Of course not! We go to the same place after all! No worries!" She was raising her voice way too much

"Ahhh! Tobes, is 8!" Jim exclaimed- 8 did he said?! "Come on come on come on!"

"Is so late our kids will get detention!" Tobias! That was his name, he yelled too and the three teens went as fast as could

"Under the bridge is the fastest route!" Claire exclaimed before turning around in a second towards the trees, she drove so fast she didn't pay attention to anything, except when she was close to the edge, where she slowed down and drove down on the waterway carefully, but as if time slowed down, she saw Jim almost fly above her on his bike before landing without a single scratch or yell. Damn, that boy was perfect...

And Toby just went by

"Come on, Tobes!" Jim yelled at Toby after seeing his watch, the three of them were late! "Claire?" But when he pronounced her name it felt like fresh breeze- IS 8:06 HOLY SHIT-!

"COMING!" Claire yelled as the two boys were ahead, passing a pile of rocks, whatever it was, there was no time, so, they went by, Claire was a little behind, but passing by the pile of rocks, all the hairs of her skin bumped

"Claire. Maria. Nuñez" she heard on her surroundings and fell off her bike because of the scare, she wanted to call Jim or Toby but they already were gone "Claire. Maria. Nuñez" the pile of rocks called again with a hint of blue coming from them, Claire was moved by curiousness and took appart some of the rocks.

A brilliant blue gem covered in metal and decorated with a strange face and clock-like needles shined on her face

"What's this?" Claire told to herself, deep inside, feeling that whatever this was, had a secret that would change everything...

RIIIIIIIING!

"PUTA-" Claire got distracted by the bell, she saved the thing on her bag, took her bike and ran faster than ever, at least she wouldn't get in trouble if she's enough fast. Of course, not knowing she was being watched

"It chose a human?"

...

Whatever the hell the teacher Strickler was saying, Claire didn't pay a single bit of attention, she already knew about the topic and this strange blue thing got all her attention, that and her friends at her sides murmuring questions she couldn't asnwer

"Maybe is some kind of toy and this is a joke" Mary tried to put an excuse, something of an answer

"If that's the case, then it belongs to someone, and we should return it" Darcy commented, as always the good one of the group

"Or, we can see the settings and return it with a surprise" Mary offered, not wasting any time to show vengance if necesarry

"I don't think so. This doesn't look like a toy" Claire murmured even more, unsure and sceptic of this... thing

"What did he ask?" Darcy shook a bit Claire's shoulder when she noticed the teacher said something, but both were too distracted to notice until Jim was answering

"Ah, the winning ones?" The rest of the class laughed at Jim's answer, with it, the bell ringed and everyone took their bags and turned off the computers to get out of the classroom.

Darcy and Mary were friends of Claire since the three of them were babies, mostly thanks to the fact their moms were besties since middle school and they grew up together since then.

Inmediatly they got out of the classroom Mary took her phone, which for once in never was in silent, it had a new carcass, this time pink with a sky blue dragon printed on it. Darcy walked alongside them seeing her watch on her wrist, a simple but pretty one Mary gifted her last christmas, it was silver and tiny but around the crystal that covered the numbers and the needles, there were two little carved butterflies. When Claire watched on her bag, she saw she forgot her phone

"Damn" Claire cursed to the air "girls, gimme a sec" Claire went again to the classroom, the only ones left were Jim and the teacher, it seems they were talking "ah- sorry, I-" fortunately, her phone was at view in the desk "I forgot this, sorry"

"Don't worry, miss Nuñez" the teacher Strickler excused her "I'll see you tomorrow, miss Claire, young Atlas"

"See you tomorrow" Claire waved her hand and went out of the classroom, only followed by Jim who got out of the classroom too

If only Claire noticed how weird and surprised was Strickler looking at her bag, specifically to the wrongly closed pocket that let see the strange blue thing she had on it

"Found it" Claire told to her friends and both walk again through the hallways to the next class

"Claire, will you auditionate for Romeo and Juliet, right?" Darcy asked to keep track of the situation after seeing the poster aside the bathroom's door

"Dah, nothing will keep me out of the scenary" Claire boasted herself with a hand on her chest and head high for long

"We'll see that!" Mary raised her tone to Claire with a jokingly expression "because I will have the main this time!"

"If you insist so much!" Claire laughed at Mary sarcasticaly, obviously making like if she wouldn't get the main role on the school theater play, and tomorrow were the auditions to it. Claire and Mary were the competitive ones with each other, mostly friendly, but their way to enforce their friendship was by being competitive, Darcy was the chill one of the three

...

"I'm not made for that old man's class, definitely" Mary yelled like if all the air on her lungs were took away as the girls got out of the bathroom, finally refreshed of their last class of the day, teacher Lawrence's class

"It wasn't that bad today" Darcy always kept positive

"Easy for you to say, you're the athletic one, not we" Mary hanged on Darcy's arm and used it as support the rest of the way, it was the last class, at least, but it was a long way to their houses. A high-pitched voice distracted the three girls

"Who was that?" Claire got surprised by the strange voice, a weird conversation she couldn't get

"Is that Eli?" Darcy recognized, Eli was her self-proclaimed math tutor like 2 or 3 years ago and despite they weren't friends, she would recognized it even in the end of the world

"And Steve" Mary saw the guy, who she didn't like, they only dated for like two days and Mary inmediatly rejected him for how awful and inmature he was, and still is, because he just closed up Eli on a locker

"Talk to me about those... monsters?" Steve laughed, supporting himself in the locker Eli was closed up

"Yes! They were made of stone!"

"Is he kidding?" Darcy didn't like the situation, so, she got close to Steve "Palchuk!" She called his attention, making herself taller and graving her voice like her father taught her

"Darcy, sweet!" Steve answered her in the most arrogant tone made by human kind "Sorry, I'm kind of busy right now"

"I can see that" Darcy pushed Steve back and opened the locker to offered her hand "hi, Eli"

"Hi, Darcy!" Eli replied happilly and he took her hand quickly and jumped out of the upper locker, despite his age, Eli was tinier and looked younger, even his glasses were bigger than his head

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Didn't you like my trick of today?" Steve hidded his disgust of Darcy's actions with a big, try of seductive smile

"Go annoy in another place, Steve" Darcy waved her hand and returned to her group while Eli walked away as silent as a ghost

"Come on, Darcy, sweet-"

"Call me like that again and I'll kick you very hard, that's my last warning" Darcy threatened the guy, and damn she was tired of him

"Darcy, calm down" Claire murmured to Darcy's ear, kind of suspecting of what would happen and not liking the possible result

"Don't you like how I call you? Maybe if I call you, who knows-?"

"Dare to say something" Darcy threathened

"Darcy, please, stop" Claire begged her "Steve is not even that important, he's just an idiot"

"Am, excuse me?" Steve's tone got more serious "who did you called idiot?"

"You, who else?" Mary raised her eyebrows with a sarcastice accent

"Listen to me very clearly, you-"

"Steve, stop!" Claire got in the middle of the three of them "Darcy just wanted to help Eli, we already did what we had to and- and we finished, we will not bother you anymore" Claire's voice shaked a bit as she took Mary and Darcy's hands and dragged them away of problems

"I'm not done-"

"PALCHUK! WHY ARE YOU NOT TRAINING?" Teacher Lawrence's call got Steve's all attention and went in a hurry, sure, still mad for the girls' behavior

"Claire, what was that?" Darcy reclaimed her

"Yes! We had him on his place!" Mary also yelled at Claire

"There was no need for that!" Claire excused herself, her voice came to normal again "the less problems we have, the best for everyone" Claire stated, and before Mary or Darcy could say something else, Claire started walking away out of the school, the faster she got home, the best would be

At least that's what she thought

Hours later, Claire was cradling her baby brother a bit, he played with her for long and didn't want to sleep again

"Come on, chicharron, aren't you tired?" Claire murmured in disbelief, Enrique replied by giggling and laughing, that was a no. Claire cradled him, kind of tired of it, but how could she say no to that little, funny laugh! He was her little cutie, her potatoe. She really loved that baby a lot. The lots of things she would do for him...

PUM!

"Holy shit-" Claire murmured to herself. Something weird was heard and God knew what was or were, her parents weren't home yet, Claire's dad usually worked at home but today had a reunion and her mom was doing her concilor duty, maybe it were just a raccon "I'll come later, chicharron" Claire left Enrique at his cradle and started to look in the rooms, the attic, the first floor, but everything was the same

PUM!

Claire heard another thing, maybe at the basement where the heating cauldron was, what made her skin get goosebumps was that with the hit were heard also... murmurs?

Claire got her phone off her pocket with the lamp and the call app in hand in case of calling police (or animal control). She walked down stairs with both eyes open, prepared for anything

She should have turned the light on but the fear didn't let her think of that until she was in the middle of the room

"MASTER CLAIRE!"

At the scare of the voice behind, Claire screamed as high-pitched like she had never done, enough strident and high to disturb the talker's ears, which it had to cover with both- IT HAS FOUR HANDS?!

Claire, trying to step back, crashed against the wall- HOLY SHIT- IT WASN'T A WALL! A bigger- thing? Stepped back and also covered its ears when Claire started to scream again-

Not paying attention to her way, she crashed her head quick and waaaay to hard against the tube of the cauldron and fell to the floor

It was silence for like 5 seconds

"Told you"

"Don't make yourself the all-knower, Aarrgh! It was just an accident!"

"Blinky, is a human, we trolls" the green, bulky troll pointed with both hands to Claire, now uncouncious on the floor

"But is the trollhunter for some reason!" Blinky excused himself, but he knew about humans even less than Aarrrgh, and Aarrrgh's last contact with a human was like 7 centuries ago or more

"Why she scream when she saw us then?"

"That's...! That's a fair point- but we can still talk to the Master Claire... as far as she wakes up..."

"...that hit was hard"

"It was, but she will wake up in any minute! You'll see"

...

Claire didn't woke up

"Is she-"

"Aaarrrgh, don't say that!"

Both trolls were about to start another discussion when a cry at distance was heard

"What is that?" Aarrrgh asked despite he already had a basic answer

"I don't like that sound"

In the moment Claire heard Enrique's cry at the back of her mind, her eyes opened in instict- and gasped in horror when the two creatures of before still were there

"Master Claire-!"

"WHAT ARE YOU?!"

"You'll see, we are trolls"

"TROLLS?!" Claire screamed, again

"Yes, trolls, and-"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!"

"Can you lower it?" Aarrrgh suggested with a hint of a weird smile and a hand on his ear

"LOWER WHAT?!"

"Your tone, Master Claire" Blinky explained "my friend has a sensible ear, and I have one too"

"WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME MASTER?!"

It was impossible to make this girl shut up or what?!

"Master Claire, please, listen to us, quietly by preference" Blinky continued to explain "my name is Blinky, Blinky Galadrigal, and this is my friend Aarrrgh" Aarrrgh waved his hand in salute as Blinky talked "and you, Master Claire, recieved the sacred obligation of-"

"Sacred obligation- That doesn't explain why are you still calling me Master!"

"Master Claire, with all respect, I understand you have a lot of questions but please, shut up!" Blinky made his ultimatum with both upper hands united and the lower hitting the air in resentment "so we can explain you properly, one question by one, are you fine with it?"

Claire got a bit surprised by the blue troll's statement but understood the situation and nodded silently

Finally

"Thank you. Now, condensing it as much as possible" Blinky returned to his explanation "we are trolls, we live secretly under Arcadia's feet for our safety, and you, Master Claire, had been chosen for the most sacred task of all, to be the Trollhunter"

"The what-"

"Please, Master Claire"

"Sorry, I'll shut up" Claire stopped as she got back on her feet

"Fine. A Trollhunter is a protector of worlds, of both human and troll, and you, Master Claire, had been chosen for it"

Claire, open-mouthed, looked at both trolls, who surprisengly only smiled like trying to ease things

Those two were a disaster of duo, and the poor human girl, it was obvious her mind was about to blow up

"Ah... Master Claire-"

"Get out of my house"

"What?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, I WILL GO FOR THREE MINUTES AND IF YOU'RE HERE WHEN I'M BACK YOU WILL PAY IT SERIOUSLY!" Claire took a broom on her hands and pointed it to both trolls, threatening them as she go upstairs quickly and closed the door of the basement behind her

She left herself fall on the floor and... stayed there

Not looking at any point in specific or thinking of something, just laying there, worried, scared, asking seriously why she didn't woke up earlier in the morning so she hadn't to go under the bridge

"That didn't go as expected" Blinky commented back on the basement

"What we'll do?" Aarrrgh asked as worried as Claire with his hand to close to his teeth

"We'll be back tomorrow" Blinky took Aarrrgh's hand appart from him "but we need the trollhunter more than before, Kanjigaar gave us the warning, Bular is not our only problem anymore, changelings are a threat now and..."

"And Angor Rot?"

"That's what worries me the most, if we don't start her training now, the chances of him finding her will be higher and if she doesn't know how to defend... but she has to think of it first, we'll let her rest today" Blinky made a gesture with an upper hand, inviting Aarrrgh to come, he did just because he didn't had another choice

The worst part was that their biggest fear was already a reality, as a black portal closed near them in direction to the waterway

...

"Do you have the amulet?" Bular walked from side to side like an anxious animal to Strickler, who just came

"No" another voice replied instead of Strickler, gravelly like a tombstone as he jumped from a portal made of black smoke "the human girl has it"

"You lost it!" Bular yelled at Strickler, angry as always

"It's just a human girl and the amulet hasn't choose anyone yet-"

"The human girl was chosen" he interrupted Strickler

"What?"

"WHAT?!" Bular's madness and growls could be heard even on the Darklands "A FLESHBAG?!"

"TrollMarket already reached her"

Bular growled so hard and loud even Strickler had to cover his ears or his fury would explode the changeling's eardrums

"That's not possible" Strickler murmured to himself

"ANGOR ROT!"

"I'll remind you, Bular, I control it" Strickler reminded him, but Bular couldn't care less

"I should tear your hand appart and reclaim the ring myself!" Bular growled at Strickler to then, redirecting his attention to the pale troll "Angor Rot, I want the amulet, now!"

"But" Strickler again interrupted Bular "The amulet is only useful on the Trollhunter's hand-"

"THEN TEAR THE FLESHBAG'S HAND OF ITS BODY WITH THE AMULET!"

It was like if Strickler's bossy attitud dissapeared when Bular looked at him again, he was way more angry than usual

"Do what he says" Strickler ordered, almost like a murmur but enough for Angor to hear

"I'll do." Angor Rot replied "But I'll do it on my terms"

[shoyotravels]

hes going to tobe fly 🐦‍⬛

[howdyjourney]

Sing Your Body Electric

- chapter 13 -

who: William H. Bonney x Original Female Character

genre: western romance longfic (multiple chapters)

this chapter: dirty talk • mentions of s. work (not main characters)

previous chapter | next chapter

Chapter thirteen

The sun had climbed just high enough to burn the night-chill off the prairie grass, turning every blade a glinting green-gold. Down in the south paddock, five half-broke broncs snorted and crow-hopped at the end of long leads while Jesse’s boys—Riley, Shanks, and Tobe—took turns trying to gentle them with soft words and firm hands.

Billy lounged against the split-rail fence, one boot jack-knifed up on the lower rung, hat tipped back so dawn could tan the bridge of his nose. A length of rawhide lariat hung loose in his fist, the tail brushing dust. Beside him stood Eva, hair braided tight beneath a borrowed shade hat, sleeves rolled to elbows. Her new canvas work skirt was already smudged brown at the hem from earlier chores, but her eyes shone eager as a colt at first turnout.

“Alright, little dove,” Billy drawled, giving the rope a lazy twirl so the loop hissed round in the air. “Whole trick’s keepin’ your wrist loose and your elbow easy—let the rope do the dancin’. Watch.”

He tossed. The loop sailed out, settled neat around a fence post ten feet off, and tightened with a jerk of his wrist.

Eva whistled soft. “Looks simple when you do it.”

“Most sins do,” he chuckled, re-coiling the line and handing it to her. “Your turn.”

She took the rope, lips pursed in concentration. Tried to mimic his grip—thumb and forefinger pinching the honda knot, tail gathered in her left hand. She gave the first spin, loop wobbling like a drunk on Saturday night.

“Wrist too stiff,” Billy coached. “Less hammer, more paintbrush.”

“Paintbrush,” she murmured. She loosened her joints, tried again. This time the loop stayed round, circling her head with a soft whup-whup-whup.

“There you go! Now pick a target.”

She aimed for the same post and let fly. The lariat arced—beautiful—and missed by a yard, dropping in a dusty coil. Riley barked a laugh from the paddock. Tobe smirked around the toothpick in his mouth.

“Better’n my first throw,” Billy assured her, retrieving the rope. “But keep your elbow up, and step into it, like you’re courtin’.”

“Courtin’?” Eva shot him a sidelong smile. “That something you’re good at, Mr. Bonney?”

“Notorious,” he said with solemn mischief. “Ask every county jail from here to Santa Fe.”

Shanks, wrestling a red dun that wanted none of his stories, shouted over, “Careful, Kid—teach her too fine and she’ll rope you next.”

“That the plan,” Billy shot back, handing Eva the lariat again.

On the third try she stepped, moved her wrist just so, and the loop sailed—straight at Billy’s feet. The rawhide cinched his right boot at the ankle, jerking tight. He hopped, windmilling arms to keep balance.

“Whoa—ho!” he yelped, nearly toppling backward into the rail. The bronc trainers whooped like schoolboys. Eva’s eyes went saucer-wide, horror and hilarity duking it out on her cheeks.

“Mercy!” she gasped, scrambling to slack the rope. “Didn’t mean—”

Billy caught himself against the fence, laughing despite the burn of his pride. “Reckon that elbow’s perfect now.”

Shanks tipped an imaginary hat. “Fine shootin’, miss! Hog-tied the Kid with one round.”

Riley clapped dusty gloves together. “She’s hired.”

Tobe just grunted, impressed despite himself.

Eva freed Billy’s boot, cheeks aflame. “Sorry, truly.”

“Hell,” Billy said, straightening his hat, “I’ve been hit worse by friends. Try again—only, aim out yonder, not at my good leg.”

She drew a steadying breath, loop spinning overhead once more. This time the rope hissed over the rail, dropped around the post, and tightened clean. A chorus of whistles rose from the paddock.

Billy beamed. “There it is! First catch.”

Eva’s face lit like sunrise. She tugged the post for show, then untangled the loop loose with a quick twist. “Feels… satisfying,” she admitted, coiling the rope as he’d taught her.

“Dangerously so,” Billy agreed, stepping closer. He lowered his voice. “Don’t let Jesse see you rope that sweet—he’ll draft you to wrangle broncs before breakfast.”

“He can try,” she teased, proud and playful.

Just then, Jesse himself strode up, dust plume trailing long strides. He took in Billy’s dusty boot, the triumphant grin on Eva, the cackling crew still razzing from the paddock.

“What’d I miss?” Jesse asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Kid got hog-tied by love,” Shanks hollered.

Eva lifted the lariat, giving it a twirl. “Just a lazy lesson.”

Jesse studied the tidy noose, then Billy’s scuffed boot. A grin split his face. “Looks like the lesson’s stickin’. Keep it up, Miss Eva—couple more days, we’ll have you stealin’ cattle like a professional.”

Billy draped an arm over the rail behind her shoulder, grin easy, gaze proud. “She’s already stolen worse—my damned composure.”

The boys groaned at the line; Jesse tossed a pebble at Billy’s hat brim. Eva laughed, looped the rope around her waist bandolier-style, and tipped an imaginary Stetson to the paddock hands.

Morning carried on—colts bucked, men cursed good-natured, and every now and then Billy caught Eva’s eye across the dust, sharing that private spark that said we’re a team now, you and me.

And the crew—seeing rope burns on the Kid’s boot but none on his pride—quietly decided she fit just fine within their ragged little outfit.

**

The cook-shack squatted behind the main house like a cast-iron toad, its cedar-shake roof forever wreathed in woodsmoke and the drifting perfume of bacon grease. Inside, heat from the big belly stove fogged the grimy windows and glazed every surface with a buttery sheen. Cookie Lomas—broad as a smokehouse door, moustache salted with flour—worked one end of the plank table, punching dough into submission for the noon biscuits. At the other end, Eva rolled piecrust on a scarred board, curls of dough clinging to her knuckles.

“Shortenin’ first, then water,” she advised, voice low but certain. “Keeps the fat from meltin’ in your hands.”

Cookie grunted approval. “Figured a society gal’d use silver tongs for the task,” he rumbled, passing her a crock of lard. “Pleasant surprise watchin’ you muck in like a field hand.”

Eva smiled, dusting her wrists with flour. “Spent the war years stretchin’ rations back home. A girl learns thrift quick or goes hungry.”

Across the cramped room loitered Pearl—sleek in a crimson blouse that flashed too bright against the soot-black walls. She leaned a hip against the dish shelf, file-point nails tapping a bored rhythm on the enamel. Her gaze tracked Eva’s every motion the way a lynx watches a songbird.

“Look at them dainty wrists go,” Pearl drawled. “Didn’t know debutantes kneaded outlaw dough. Hope you washed the lily fragrance off first.”

Cookie snorted but kept kneading. Eva lifted her chin. “Flour covers a multitude of sins—and perfumes,” she said, calm as creek water.

Pearl’s smile thinned.

A footstep scuffed at the threshold. Billy ducked through the low door, Stetson in hand, seeking the coffee pot like a moth seeks flame. Sweat darkened the collar of his chambray shirt; dust from the paddock silvered the stubble on his jaw. He poured a tin cup, took one swallow—and caught sight of Eva standing there sleeves-rolled, waist dusted white, cheeks pink from stove heat.

Whatever he’d meant to say died on his tongue. The room tightened around him to a single pulse.

“Crust lookin’ good, darlin’,” he murmured, stepping to her side. Flour smudged the bridge of her nose; he thumbed it away, fingers lingering just a hair too long. Then, without more warning than a possessive gleam in his blue eyes, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was no quick brush. His free hand curved behind her nape, guiding her mouth to his. Warm, lingering—just shy of indecent but more than enough to stake a claim. Dough-flecked fingers curled into his shirtfront, and for a heartbeat the sizzling stove was outdone by the heat between them.

When he eased back, Eva’s lashes fluttered, breath folding soft against his chest. Billy cleared his throat, suddenly aware of spectators. Cookie grinned around his chew. Pearl’s eyes had gone hard as hammered glass.

“Coffee worth comin’ in for,” Billy said, voice rough. He kept a palm at Eva’s backside while taking another sip.

Pearl clicked her tongue. “Some men need more than caffeine to stay awake, seems.”

Billy didn’t bite. He lifted the cup in salute, gaze never leaving Eva’s soft, flour-ringed smile. “Sweetens the morning, anyhow.” Then to Eva, low enough only she could hear: “Can’t walk past you without wantin’ a taste.”

Color blossomed on her cheeks—half embarrassment, half pleasure. She nudged him toward the spice shelf. “Fetch me the nutmeg, gunslinger, before Cookie’s biscuits burn.”

Billy obeyed, grin crooked, shoulders loose, every line of him telegraphing contentment.

Behind them, Pearl pushed off the shelf, jealousy simmering like a struck match. “Careful with that sugar, Kid,” she cooed. “Too much’ll rot your teeth.”

“Worth the risk,” he shot back, handing the tiny tin of spice to Eva. “I got a gal knows home remedies.”

Cookie barked a laugh. Pearl’s mouth flattened; she wiped soot off her sleeve and sauntered out, heels clicking sharp as spite on the porch boards.

The door banged shut. Eva released a breath she hadn’t noticed holding.

“Don’t mind her,” Billy said, sliding an arm round her waist for a heartbeat before stepping clear. “Pearl sees somethin’ shiny, she wants to pocket it.”

Cookie Lomas chuckled, thumping biscuit dough onto a pan. “Ain’t the first time that one’s prowled the cook-shack fishin’ for scraps.”

Eva rolled her crust, shoulders squaring. “She can prowl all she likes. This pie’s for folk who mind their manners.”

Billy leaned, stole one more soft kiss at her temple, and retrieved his coffee. “You keep bakin’, sweetheart. I’ll fend off the scavengers.”

As he sauntered out, Cookie winked. “Gal, you just mixed hotter spice than any nutmeg.”

Eva smiled to herself, crimped the crust edge neat, and thought that sometimes territory got marked with kisses instead of six-guns—but it was a claim all the same, and one nobody in that shack could miss.

**

The bunk-house wash-room was little more than a lean-to tacked onto the east wall—three tin wash-basins, a cracked mirror, and a length of frayed curtain that offered the idea of privacy without the fact. Eva slipped inside after supper, grateful for the lull of dusk: most of Jesse’s men had drifted to the corrals to swap tobacco and tall tales. She unpinned her braid, shook the day’s dust from the dark rope of hair, and untied her dress, letting it puddle over her boots. In the lamplight her plain chemise clung soft after the damp cloth she used to sponge road grime from her throat.

She’d just braced one hip against the basin, eyes half-closed while cool water soothed sun-burned skin, when the door scraped. Pearl sauntered in, silhouette sharp against the twilight bleeding through the open frame.

“Well, ain’t you a picture,” she purred, shutting the door with an elbow. Lamplight caught the high sheen of her satin bodice, the too-bright grin that never reached her eyes. She let her gaze rake down—past Eva’s loose hair, over the linen clinging to her breasts, lingering on the curve of her backside where the chemise hem rode high.

Eva straightened, gripping the basin’s rim. “Need the room?”

Pearl’s laugh tinkled like glass about to break. “Relax, kitten—I only came for a dab o’ rose water.” She plucked the corked bottle off the shelf, sniffed theatrically, then set it back, never taking her gaze off Eva. “You know, I wondered what the Kid saw in that stray-cat face of yours. Half a day’s ride from pretty, if you want the truth.”

Eva felt the sting—ignored it. She reached for a towel. “A man’s taste ain’t your ledger to balance.”

“Mmm, maybe.” Pearl drifted closer, each step measured. “But the boys do gossip. And men like Billy?” She flashed a smile, white and mean. “They keep toys till the shine dulls. Now”— her chin tipped, eyes narrowing appreciatively at Eva’s hips— “I figure that peach you tote buys you extra time. Soft flesh for a hard winter, that sort o’ thing. But even the sweetest rump wrinkles after enough sittin’.”

Eva folded the towel, kept her voice even. “Folks who sit watchin’ other people’s asses usually miss their own goin’ sour.”

Pearl’s smile faltered; she recovered with a shrug, lazy as a cat. “Call it friendly warnin’. Don’t hand your heart to an outlaw. He’ll wear it out same as his boot soles.” She stepped so close Eva caught lilac-tinged breath. “Come spring, he’ll ride for greener country—men like him always do—and you’ll be yesterday’s saddle blanket.”

Eva met the woman’s gaze, steady as levee stone. “Maybe. Then again, maybe I’m the saddle he’s been lookin’ to keep.”

Pearl’s brow lifted. Eva’s tone hadn’t raised a decibel, yet something steely hummed beneath it—strong enough that the older woman shifted back half a pace.

Eva dabbed her collarbone dry, added, almost conversational, “Takes grit to ride five months with Billy and still stand upright come dawn. If I’m toy, I’m tougher than most iron.”

For an instant Pearl’s mouth puckered, unsure whether to laugh or slap. In the pause, boots thudded on the porch beyond; men’s voices drifted past—Billy’s among them. Pearl angled her head toward the sound, eyes sharpening.

“You know,” she drawled, letting the words curl slow like smoke, “I oughta ask if you need mercury.”

Eva blinked. “Mercury?”

Pearl smiled like a cat stretching before the kill. “For the pox, sweetheart. Venereal rot. Crotch roses. You start feelin’ itchy or spotty down there, you come knockin’ and I’ll point you toward the apothecary.”

Eva stared, stunned. “Why in God’s name would I need—?”

Pearl lifted a brow, all wide-eyed innocence. “Oh, honey. That boy’s pecker’s been wet in more whorehouses than whiskey glasses. And not just the paid kind—regular houses, too. Billy’s always had a taste for what ain’t his—married ladies, widows, ranch wives with nothin’ but a ring and a bored husband standin’ between ‘em. Man like that don’t stop just ‘cause he’s got somethin’ sweet at home. I’d have figured a fancy girl like you—private schools and piano lessons and whatever-all—might think twice before lettin’ a dick like that in your front door.”

She gave a sly, knowing smile. “Then again, if he’s as generous as some girls whisper, I can’t blame you for losin’ your manners. Heard tell from my saloon friends he’s hung like a prize bull and twice as restless—likes to leave a woman with her knees knockin’ and her spine rattled. Had one girl say she walked crooked for two days. Another said he made her come before he even undid his belt.”

Pearl leaned in, grin sharpening. “What’s that feel like, good girl? Bein’ cock-crazy over an outlaw with a reputation as long as his dick? Little Miss Molly up in Santa Fe claimed he once spent a full hour with nothin’ but his mouth between her thighs. Makes you wonder how many names he’s got gaspin’ in his memory—how many he’s thought instead of yours?”

Eva’s mouth opened, then shut.

Her heart kicked once, hard—but she reined it in.

And then she smiled.

It wasn’t sweet.

“Good to know you keep such close tabs on his comings and goings,” Eva said lightly. “Or maybe just his comings.”

Pearl’s eyes narrowed.

Eva continued, folding her towel with care. “Funny, though. You talk like you’ve had him—and like you didn’t. Which is it?”

Pearl scoffed, too quick. “He don’t need to pay for what’s already been offered.”

“Offered, sure. But accepted?” Eva raised a brow. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. Like a man steppin’ over manure in borrowed boots.”

Pearl’s nostrils flared, but Eva didn’t stop.

“You think you’re warning me? About where he’s been?” She shook her head faintly. “I know the man’s past. He told me with his own mouth—same one that kissed me before breakfast and begged me to ride him after supper.”

Pearl flushed.

“And I ain’t afraid of where he’s been,” Eva finished, voice cool and flat, “because I know where he sleeps now.”

Pearl's mouth opened, then twisted in something between a sneer and a smile. “So proud to be the next hole in the line.”

Eva stepped forward once, just enough to make the other woman flinch.

“I’d rather be his home,” she said, soft and steady, “than your history.”

Pearl stiffened, all glitter gone sharp. “You won’t last.”

Eva tilted her head. “Maybe. But if I don’t, it won’t be because I’m weak. Or scared. Or spendin’ my nights countin’ whores like tally marks. It'll be because I chose to walk away, not because he did.”

“Enjoy the honeymoon,” Pearl murmured, slipping past toward the door. “When the tune changes, I’ll be the one dancin’.” She left on a swirl of satin and resentment.

The door shut. Evening cicadas filled the quiet. Eva exhaled, slow. Her pulse beat hot in wrists and throat, but her hands stayed steady as she pulled on her night skirt and braided her hair for sleep.

Outside, laughter spiked—Billy cackling at some joke of Jesse’s. Eva smiled faintly, touched the place on her neck where his lips had lingered that morning, and decided Pearl’s forecast could wait till the first frost. Tonight, she had a man who kissed her like claim-staking, fucked her stupid nearly each night, and asked nothing in return but truth—and that, she figured, was shine enough for any saddle.

**

The barn at high noon was a cathedral of dust-lit beams and hoof-echoed clatter. Sun speared through knotholes in bright shafts, turning every drifting mote to gold. Eva had come seeking an extra currycomb—Pearl had “misplaced” the good one again—but the moment she stepped into the breezeway, voices halted her between the stalls.

Jesse Evans’s easy baritone carried first, edged with something harder than his usual drawl. “Kid, you hearin’ me? A woman ain’t the same as a rifle you can tuck behind the seat when you’re done shootin’. Get her a ring or get her gone.”

Hooves struck the floorboards—Billy must have been holding a forefoot while the blacksmith rasped. His answer rumbled lower, half lost beneath the gelding’s nervous snort. “Ain’t that simple, Jess.”

Eva froze beside the feed bin, hidden by a half-open stall door. The gelding inside nudged her sleeve; she laid a calming palm on its neck but kept still, breath shallow.

Jesse clicked his tongue. “Simple’s what a good woman deserves. Kid, that girl looks at you like sunrise after a cellar night. Whole ranch can see it. You keep her danglin’ much longer, she’ll snap.”

Billy’s grunt sounded strained. “I’m weighin’ what’s best for her.”

“What’s best,” Jesse shot back, “is clarity. You plan to ride the outlaw wind forever, fine—do it solo. But if you aim to keep that sweet thing, you square it honest. Ring her hand or set her free.”

Iron rang as the shoe was seated. Billy exhaled. “I’m ridin’ south soon. Scoutin’ quiet towns—places she could start fresh.”

A pause thick as mud followed. Jesse’s reply arrived softer, almost pitying. “Without you?”

Billy didn’t answer right away. The rasp sang again, metal on hoof. Finally he muttered, “She deserves choices I can’t give on the run. Paper name, clean roof, neighbors that ain’t readin’ bounty sheets with coffee.”

“And you reckon she’ll thank you when she wakes alone?”

Another silence—short, sharp. Then Billy: “Reckon she’ll hate me less than if lead finds me and leaves her buryin’ bones.”

Jesse sighed, leather creaking as he straightened. “Kid, you been dodgin’ bullets since fourteen. You think distance’ll dull her grief if one finally hits?”

Footsteps scuffed straw. “I ain’t askin’ blessing, Jess. Just a day or two head start to scout. After that… we’ll see.”

The gelding stamped. Tools clanked back into a box. Jesse’s voice drifted away toward the tack room. “You’re a damn fool, Billy Bonney. Either marry the girl or quit lovin’ her. Halfway’s how hearts bleed out.”

Their boots faded down opposite aisles, leaving only the rustle of settling dust.

Behind the stall door, Eva stood motionless, palm still on the gelding’s warm neck. The animal huffed, sensing her sudden tremor. Ring or run. Quiet towns. Start fresh—without him?

The words lodged like burrs under her ribs. For months she’d ridden with storms at her back, certain only of Billy’s presence beside her. Now each breath felt thin, brittle. She pressed knuckles to her lips to keep them from quivering, staring at the sun-flecked aisle where he’d stood moments before.

Outside, a meadowlark trilled. Inside, doubt took root—swift and cold—and would not stop growing.

**

The creek behind Jesse’s spread wasn’t much—just a ribbon of melt-water racing over rounded quartz and shale—but late-afternoon sun glazed its surface amber, and the cottonwoods along the bank tossed their leaves like coins in a gambler’s hand. Billy and Eva had wandered there after the midday chores, drawn by the promise of quiet and a thin breeze that smelled of snowmelt and sage.

Billy dropped to a squat at the water’s edge and sifted through the stones. “Gotta find somethin’ flat as flapjack,” he said, holding up a disc-smooth pebble for inspection. “Weight’s got to sit just right. Otherwise it’ll plunk like a drunk into a saloon spittoon.”

Eva knelt beside him, skirts bunched above her boots. “Never skipped a stone in my life.”

“Then today’s your education, peach.” He flashed that sideways grin that still unraveled her knees, even after months of seeing it close. “Here.” He pressed the pebble into her palm, curling her fingers around it. “Thumb on top, pointer along the rim—good. Now cock your wrist. Throw level to the water, give it a little spin.”

She tried. The pebble sailed an earnest arc and cannonballed after a single pathetic jump. Water bloomed up, soaking the hem of her skirt. She snorted a laugh. “That skip was more of a stumble.”

Billy whooped, clapping once. “Seen worse first tries. Come on, again.”

They scoured the gravel bar for candidates. Each failure sparked a fresh attempt; each attempt brought his hands over hers, adjusting grip, nudging elbow. At the third pass, her stone kissed the creek twice before surrendering to the current. She let out a whoop that startled a kingfisher from an overhanging branch.

“Look at you,” Billy crowed. “Two skips! Reckon by sundown you’ll rival ol’ Beckwith, tallest tale-spinner on the Pecos.”

“You sweet-talkin’ me or challengin’ me?” Her smile came easy… but it frayed at the edges, tugged by memory of overheard words: quiet towns, start fresh. A ring or freedom.

Billy was scanning the gravel again, intent on scoring a champion rock. Sunlight outlined the towhead strands that escaped his hatband; the set of his shoulders looked looser than she’d seen since they’d arrived, as if the mountains at their backs kept trouble penned.

Seize the ease, she told herself, yet questions pricked like nettles. She found a flat stone and tested its weight.

“Billy?”

“Hmm?” He straightened, brushing grit from his palms.

“Do you—” She forced a playful lilt she didn’t feel. “Do you reckon Jesse might let us stay through spring? Calves’ll drop soon enough; they’ll need hands.”

He moved his thumb along his lower lip, all casual. “Maybe. Ranch ain’t mine to answer for, but Jess likes havin’ another gun around and a woman who can out-pie his cook.” He tipped his head, considering her. “Why? Growing roots in this cactus patch?”

She traced a notch in the stone’s edge. “Just… seems peaceful here. After all that running, peace has its charm.”

Billy’s gaze softened, but something wary slid behind the blue. “Ain’t nothin’ chasin’ us today, dove. That’s what matters.”

Today, she noted. Not tomorrow. Not next month. The stone felt heavier in her hand.

He noticed her silence, stepped closer, thumb brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey.” The word came low, coaxing. “I see that frown.”

She mustered a lighter expression. “Sun’s in my eyes,” she lied.

“You need shade, then.” He leaned in and kissed her—slow and easy, tasting of woodsmoke and creek-cool air. His palms bracketed her waist, thumbs settling in the hollow just above her hips. For a humming moment the world narrowed to the press of his mouth, the soft rush of water, the peppery scent of crushed cottonwood buds underfoot.

She kissed back, but worry spun like a spool beneath the sweetness. If he planned to leave her, how long before this creek, these hands, became memory?

Billy eased away, forehead resting against hers. “Better?”

“Mmm.” She nodded, letting the hum linger.

Behind them, a cloud bank bruised the western hills—late-season thunderheads that piled high but often blew past in an hour. Billy followed her glance. “Sky’s bluffing,” he said. “We’ll make it back dry.”

“You always that sure of the weather?”

His grin flashed. “When it suits my plans.” He reclaimed her hand, pressing a final stone into it. “Try once more—put your back into it.”

She obeyed, this time whipping her wrist with determination. The pebble danced three, four, five skips before disappearing. Billy whooped; she allowed herself a laugh, brief but genuine.

“Look at that,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they turned toward the ranch buildings framed by late light. “Takes most folks half a childhood to hit five skips.”

Takes most folks half a lifetime to trust, she thought, glancing sideways at him. And some never do.

They walked in companionable quiet, boots crunching along the dusty path. Overhead, the clouds massed darker, swallowing the sun’s edge; wind whisked through gallery aspens, rattling leaves like distant applause.

Billy squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever’s stewin’ behind those eyes, save it for tomorrow. Tonight we got beans warming, a fiddle ready, and no bullets whinin’ our direction.” He winked. “Far as Kid luck runs, that’s a holy miracle.”

Eva tipped her head against him, forcing another smile. “Miracle indeed.”

But while Billy talked of supper, she watched the storm build on the horizon—gray walls swallowing blue—and wondered which would break first: the clouds above them or the secret plan coiling beneath his careless grin.

**

Lantern light spilled through the false-front windows of every clapboard on Main, tinting the dust a coppery rose as Billy reined the gelding alongside Jesse’s string. The whistle-stop hamlet—Pie Town on the freight-maps, Pop. 61 if the sign could be trusted—was awake and restless tonight: wagons creaked in from onion flats, mules brayed at the water trough, and a two-note stage whistle wailed somewhere past the stock pens like a lonesome clarinet.

Eva tugged her shawl tighter as she dismounted. Evening wind carried twin scents—molasses from the bakery and coal smoke from the engine-shed. Behind her, Nettie hopped down from the back of Shanks’s bay with a calculated bounce, skirts swishing richer velvet than the girl had owned last week. She dusted imaginary road grit from her bodice, eyes darting to Billy with a smile too sweet by half.

“Smell that?” Jesse chuckled, swinging down. “Pie Town earns the name. Lemon chess, apple brown-butter, pecan if you ask twice.”

“Your liver’s prayin’ for supper,” Riley Coe muttered, hitching his horse. “Mine’s prayin’ for whiskey.”

“I’ll tend both.” Jesse clapped Riley’s shoulder, then glanced over to Eva. “Kid, mind your girl. Town this small, gossip outruns bullets.”

Billy gave a lazy salute. “She’s safer than any of us.” Still, he set a light hand at the small of Eva’s back—half courtesy, half stake-claim—and steered her toward the boardwalk. Oak planks thunked under their boots, drums announcing strangers.

Shanks was already gone in a puff of storyteller’s swagger, angling for the saloon doors like a hound to a cook-fire. Tobe lingered to test a knothole in his boot heel with the tip of his knife, then followed Jesse toward the mercantile.

That left Nettie pacing Eva two steps behind, voice honey-laced. “Ain’t this precious. How’s the Kid’s knee, Miss Nurse?”

Eva kept her eyes forward. “Mending fine, thank you. How’s your card luck?”

“Better than yesterday, worse than tomorrow.” Nettie flashed dimples, then sighed as though burdened by generosity. “Town that small, pretty thing like you oughta pick up hair ribbons at the milliner’s. Unless the Kid won’t part with his purse.”

Eva halted, looked Nettie over—velvet, lace, perfume strong enough to stun a moth. “Got all the ribbons I require. And if I had none, Billy’d still want me.” She started on. Billy’s mouth twitched, pride and amusement in equal share.

Across the street, two lanterns framed the wide doors of the Pie Town Emporium—dry goods, hardware, and, judging by the apple aroma leaking through its seams, a bakery counter at the back. Billy opened the door; a bell tinked. Eva stepped into a warmth that smelled of cedar shavings and cinnamon.

Shelves stood tall with burlap flour sacks, twist-neck bottles of patent cure-alls, bolts of calico. Old Mr. Penshaw—the proprietor—looked up from his ledger, spectacles perched on the cliff of his nose. “Evenin’, folks. What brings the Evans crew to my porch?”

“Beans, cartridges, and pie,” Billy answered. “Not in that order.”

Penshaw barked a laugh and pointed to a lattice-crusted parade cooling on the window shelf. “Take your pick. Lemon’s two bits if you ain’t choosy ‘bout tartness.”

Eva drifted toward the fabrics, fingertips brushing a bolt of pale cornflower cloth. Nettie sidled beside her, low hiss in her voice. “That color’d wash you out, honey. Show every freckle you own.”

“Freckles aren’t shameful,” Eva said, mild as teatime. “Billy calls ’em stardust.”

Nettie’s smile cracked just a hair.

Meanwhile, Billy and Penshaw haggled over .44 shells, the price per box rising a penny every time Nettie’s laugh pealed too sharp across the room. Billy’s patience thinned; Eva caught the movement of his jaw muscle and intervened.

She chose a single lemon pie from the sill—gold as prairie sunset—and carried it to the counter. “We’ll take this, Mr. Penshaw. And two skeins of cotton thread—white.” The storekeeper sniffed, scribbled figures.

While Penshaw wrapped the pie in brown paper, Eva leaned toward Billy, voice just for him. “Need anything from the smith? I saw you oil that hammer light.”

He blinked, then softened. “Just extra springs. You think of everything, don’t you?”

“Habit,” she said, though her pulse jumped at the warmth in his words.

Coins rung into Penshaw’s till. Billy tucked the pie under his arm and offered Eva the crook of his elbow. “Whiskey next?”

“Please,” she said—surprising herself. Whiskey meant the saloon, card smoke, Nettie’s territory. But a spark in her chest rebelled: she would not scurry like a church mouse from saloon girls or doubts whispering in barns.

Outside the sky bruised to indigo; a stagecoach rattled past, driver whooping at fresh horses. Up ahead the saloon’s red lantern swayed above twin batwings. Piano chords stumbled inside—someone testing drunk chords of “Oh! Susanna.”

Jesse lounged against a hitch rail, already nursing a tin cup. “You get your fix, Kid?”

“Got pie.” Billy hefted the parcel; Jesse grinned approval. “And powder.”

“Shanks is gut-deep in poker. Tobe prowlin’ the hardware shelves. Coe’s wooing Doris behind the livery,” Jesse reported, as though announcing weather. His sharp gaze skipped to Nettie hovering near the porch step. “Some folks got other designs.”

Nettie fluttered lashes. “Oh, hush, Jess. Just keepin’ company.”

Eva offered the younger woman a lemon-slice smile. “Drink with us then.”

Nettie’s brows twitched—accepting meant sharing space she hoped to dominate. But backpedaling would read like surrender. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Billy caught the byplay, amusement glinting. “Let’s wet our whistles, then. Sun’ll set before we’re through.”

Pie Town’s lanterns shined on, dotting the street like low stars as the crew merged into the saloon glow—sass, hunger, and unseen undercurrents all jostling for room beneath the sagging roof beams. The night’s real game, Eva sensed, had little to do with cards and everything to do with stakes laid on hearts, pride, and pie still warm in its paper wrap.

**

Lanterns had begun their slow sway along Main, chains creaking in the soft wind. Eva stepped out of the Emporium first, brown-paper bolt of cornflower calico hugged to her ribs. Billy followed with the pie under one arm and a box of .44 shells in the other, boots thudding down the warped porch planks.

At the rail, an angular man fussed with a bulky tripod camera—the wet-plate kind that smelled of collodion. He was mid-pose with a gimpy Confederate veteran when he half-turned, catching the movement from the store. Wire-rim spectacles glinted; curiosity pinned his gaze to Eva like an insect.

“Hold that posture, Sergeant,” he murmured to his subject, then strode three lank steps toward the couple, dust-duster flapping behind narrow hips. A press pass—THE KANSAS CITY JOURNAL—showed grimy at his lapel.

“Evenin’, ma’am,” he said, tipping a felt bowler that had seen every county road west of St. Louis. “Name’s Fairfax. Nathaniel Fairfax. Forgive me, but… would you oblige a question?” His voice held a city cadence, polite but prying.

Eva stiffened a fraction, the calico tightening against her chest. “I’m no curiosity, sir.”

“Beggin’ pardon, I meant no offense.” Fairfax thumbed open a leather satchel. Ink-stained fingers flipped past notebooks, envelopes, a string-bound wad of newspaper clippings. “Just—thought I recognized—”

He fished out a dog-eared scrap, unfolded it with the delicacy of scripture. Gas-lamp glow hit the yellowed page: a black-and-white etching of a colonnaded house, beneath it the headline:

DEBUT OF MISS EVALINE WARREN FAIRCHILD – ROSEMEAD PLANTATION SOIRÉE

Beneath the title, a small portrait—charcoal-wash likeness of a girl in satin, eyes a touch too close, freckles rendered as polite stipples. Fairfax held the clipping beside Eva’s face, his own expression half wonder, half triumph.

“Couldn’t be…” He traced the faint lash-scar at the angle of her shoulder with a journalist’s air-sketch. “Freckle constellation matches. Scar—yes—left scapula. Miss Fairchild?”

Eva’s blood drained to her ankles. Words shriveled behind her teeth.

Billy stepped forward, placing the pie on the rail so his gun hand was free if needed. “Friend, that picture’s four years old and two thousand miles polite of where you’re standin’.” His drawl had cooled to gunmetal. “Let the lady pass.”

Fairfax blinked behind spectacles. “No harm meant. Human-interest, that’s all. An heiress gone west—makes copy.”

Billy pinched the clipping from Fairfax’s grip, folded it once, twice, shoved it into his own vest as if stuffing down a hornet. From his pocket he produced two silver half-dollars, pressed them into the reporter’s palm hard enough to grind bone.

“For your copy.” He snagged the blank notebook page next, tore it free, crumpled it. “And for forgettin’ you saw her.”

Eva managed a breath, but her eyes were still wide-ringed, fixed on the satchel that surely held more scraps of her past.

Fairfax swallowed, glanced to the coins, then to Billy’s stance—casual, yes, but inner arm loose near the Colt. Calculated risk spread across his face; ink and ambition lost to self-preservation. He lifted his free hand in a placating gesture, stepped back.

“No offense taken. Press never lingers where it’s unwelcome.” Yet as he backed toward his tripod he produced a stub of pencil, scribbling along the cuff of his notebook even before he’d stowed the silver: Fairchild heiress? West? The graphite glinted under lamplight like a snake’s scale.

Billy caught the movement but let it pass—for now. He reclaimed the pie, nudged Eva off the porch boards and into the dusk. Her fingers clutched the calico so tight the paper crackled.

They crossed the street in silence, lantern halos sliding over them. Only when they reached the hitch rail did Billy murmur, voice low enough for her alone: “He got nothin’ that matters. You hear me?”

She nodded, but the knot in her throat said otherwise. Behind them Fairfax’s camera shutter snapped on the war veteran, yet every click felt aimed at their spines.

Billy boosted Eva to the saddle, swung up behind. As the gelding turned toward the saloon lamplight, the clipping burned against his vest like a live brand, and Fairfax’s scrawled note fluttered in the journalist’s pad—seed of trouble, already taking root in the warm Pie Town dust.

**

The Buckhorn’s rear chamber breathed kerosene and cheap cigar smoke, curtains drawn tight so the street marshal couldn’t nose in uninvited. Low lamplight bronzed the haze; tin reflectors above the table flared yellow rings on every whiskey glass and sweating brow. Cards slapped, chips clicked, and lies fluttered like moths against the buzzing.

Billy slid through the red-lash curtain, boots silent over warped boards. The public bar behind him crowded with freight handlers and muleteers, but out here the air thinned to five men, one deck, and wagers too steep for daylight.

Shanks lounged dealer-side, sleeves gartered, grin razor-thin. “Well lookit the convalescent,” he drawled, riffling pasteboards. “Thought you were home spoon-fed by the little dove.”

“Doctor said light exercise,” Billy answered, voice even. He dragged a rickety chair back with his heel, sat astride it, arms over the splat. From here he could still glimpse main-room lamplight—could picture Eva at the front table with Riley and Nettie, polite laughter floating over the piano’s stumble. He fixed that image in his mind like tacking a horseshoe above a door: good luck, fragile.

The other players—Tobe, a traveling whiskey drummer, and a Mexican vaquero with silver spurs—nodded curt hellos. None offered seat; Billy produced a thin roll of notes, tossed it on the felt. “Buy-in enough?”

Shanks whistled. “Hell, Kid, you could buy the Buckhorn’s roof.” He dealt.

She’s Fairchild. Heiress. Lied through every mile, every campfire hymn. Why? To outrun her kin? To outrun shame? Billy collected his cards—three hearts, two junk. Folded. Doesn’t change who she is when she smiles at dawn, flour dust on her cheek. But it changes who’s huntin’.

He watched the pot swell, chips clacking like distant spurs. Shanks spun anecdotes—some nonsense about robbing a paymaster with a shovel and a possum—but Billy drifted, eyes on smoke spiraling toward the rafters.

Newspaperman’ll file that note. Somebody prints it. Fairchild kin read. Maybe Pinkertons. Maybe Rosemead’s overseer with blood still on his whip. They’ll ride hard and straight.

Billy swallowed the bitter taste of that thought, signaled for whiskey. The bar-back brought a finger of brown; Billy downed half, felt it burn a straight line to his ribs.

Cards came again. Queen high flush this time. He pushed chips methodically, face unreadable. The drummer raised, Tobe glared from under his hat brim, Shanks feigned boredom. Billy called every bet without blinking, let tension wind like a lariat. River card hit—ace hearts. He owned the table.

“Show,” Shanks said.

Billy fanned his hand. “Heaven’s paint.” Pot slid his way in a satisfying clatter. He raked the silver dollars and paper, stacking neat. Not greed—calculation. Coach fare to anywhere, forged deed money, clean dresses, doctor’s bribe if needed. His brain counted silently: sixty-one… eight-three… one-ten.

Shanks’s eyes narrowed, amused. “Plannin’ a dowry?”

“Plannin’ a road,” Billy answered. He cut a grin but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Road costs.”

The next deal, he folded early, leaned back, let conversation wash. Vaquero bragged on a new Winchester, drummer cursed the railroad wages. Billy’s thoughts prowled ahead:

Head south? Tucson too rough. North? Trinidad—she loves that mission bell, but too many rails, too many newsmen. West into the red mesa country—quiet hamlets, Spanish land grants where a preacher’ll ink papers no questions.

He pictured her there: hair loose in canyon breeze, safe as any soul could be in a world made of dust and lead. A home with four walls, a respectable husband, maybe a milk cow. No gunfire at dawn, no bounty posters tacking up beside church bulletins.

The whiskey drummer pushed back from a losing hand, muttered curses in Iowa slang and quit the table. Shanks reeled him with teasing, but Billy saw only the empty chair and the door beyond—Eva’s silhouette nowhere in view now, hidden by the main-room throng.

His pulse kicked. Distance grows even when I’m sittin’ still. He cashed out, chips bundled in both fists, notes folded tight.

Shanks raised a brow. “Quittin’ while you’re ahead?”

“Got what I came for.” Billy stood, tossed a coin to the lamp-boy, and met Tobe’s curious stare with a thin smile. “Light exercise is done.”

He paused at the curtain, smoke curling round his hat brim, and let a last calculation settle hard behind his eyes:

Forge a name, stage north Friday dawn. Ticket tucked where she’ll find it? Or just ride out and leave her safe while she thinks I’m buyin’ supplies?

The thought of her face when she woke to emptiness punched his gut. But the thought of a whip cracking across that peach-flesh if he misjudged safety punched harder.

Decision set like a trigger pulled halfway: He would haul her somewhere no one looked. Even if it meant she hated him for the leaving.

Billy pushed through the curtain, back into piano clatter and lantern glare, hunting his girl among the tables, pockets heavy with travel money and heart heavier still with the lie he’d begun to spin.

**

The moon rode high—bright as a silver peso dropped on black velvet—casting long twin shadows of horse and riders across the bleached ruts. Sage ghosts stirred in the cool wind, brushing the mare’s fetlocks with hushed applause. Every other sound had bled from the world but the drummer-beat of hooves and the soft creak of leather.

Eva sat pillion, arms wrapped around Billy’s middle, cheek pillowed between his shoulder blades. He felt each slow exhale through his shirt, warm as a hearth coal against chill night. Her braid had unravelled by inches; loose strands fluttered past his sleeve like corn-silk ribbon. When the mare shifted pace, Eva murmured half-awake, then settled again, sighing into him.

Billy shifted the reins to one hand, drew the blanket higher around her shoulders with the other. “Easy, little dove,” he whispered over his shoulder. “Road’s straight from here.”

She hummed drowsy assent, neither words nor tune—just the sound of trust. The weight of it ached sweet against him.

Yet his eyes never rested. Ridge-lines loomed charcoal on either flank; every brush clump, every glint of quartz in the track felt like a rifle barrel waiting to slide from the dark. He catalogued distances the way a gambler tallies chips: fifteen yards to that boulder, twenty-five to the gully cut; four heartbeats to kick the mare into a dead run if ambush stirred.

She lied by omission, yes, his mind rasped, but so have I, planning her escape without her say-so. Each breath tasted of dry sage and self-reproach.

The mare snorted, ears flicking. A night crow flapped up from a piñon, ragged wings startling the silence. Billy’s free hand hovered near the holster on his thigh until the bird’s shadow banked away over the arroyo.

Behind him, Eva shifted again, tightening her grip. “Cold,” she mumbled.

He eased the reins, slowed to a rocking walk, then unwound his duster’s tail and draped it across her lap like a quilt. “Hold that snug,” he said, voice low enough the coyotes couldn’t steal it. “Couple more miles, warm fire waitin’.”

She pressed a kiss through cotton to the center of his spine—a small, grateful brand that seared straight through the flannel, straight through the lies collecting in his saddlebags. Guilt prickled sharper than the night air.

Tomorrow I’ll talk to Jesse—borrow the buckboard, pack her trunk… Plans whirred, relentless. She’ll hate me for the trick, but she’ll live.

The mare topped the last rise. Far off, two lanterns burned outside Jesse’s bunkhouse, tiny amber eyes in the dark—home-base for thieves and tall tales. Billy reined in a moment, letting the sight settle.

Eva roused enough to lift her head. “Almost?” she asked, voice fogged with sleep but edged by some private worry.

“Almost,” he promised, staring at the lights, willing them to stand for safety instead of farewell. “Nothin’ chasin’ us tonight.”

She laid her cheek back down, trusting the words. Billy clicked to the mare, guiding her down the slope. Each hoofbeat thudded like a countdown in his chest.

Soon, he swore silently to the barren hills, I get her free of bounty posters, newspapermen, and my cursed name—even if it breaks her heart and mine alongside.

Sage parted before them, then closed in their wake, swallowing hoof-prints under the moon. And the outlaw rode east toward the lamplight, with the woman he loved dozing warm against his back and a secret tightening round his ribs like a cinch-strap ready to break.

**

Gray moon-slivers slipped between warped roof planks, striping the loft in quiet bars of light. From below drifted the soft chorus of sleeping men—an occasional snore, the rustle of a blanket, the muted clink of a spur hung on a bunk peg. Up here, dust motes floated lazy as snow.

Billy moved in a crouch, boots off, socks ghost-soft over rough boards. The nightshirt he wore was split at the seam from shoulder to elbow, but it muffled less than canvas. He’d practiced every step in his head before climbing the ladder.

First: the corner trunk. He raised the lid—squeak just shy of audible—and drew out a saddlebag he’d stashed earlier. From inside he laid items in a neat, obsessive row:

A half-box of .44 cartridges wrapped in oilcloth

Two revolver speed-loaders, polished quiet

A skin-thin roll of banknotes Jesse had paid for that last poker pot—sixty-four dollars, three silver halves

A single folded broadside of the Santa Fe line—town names circled in pencil where a man might lose old bloodhounds

He checked each like a preacher fingering rosary beads. Then he dragged a kneeling cushion—retired from the chapel wagon—beneath the narrow east window and knelt on it, easing a flat knothole board free with a jackknife tip. Beneath lay a shallow cavity black as a well. His breath fogged in the cool predawn air while he lowered the saddlebag inside.

Wood on wood made the faintest thunk.

A sigh floated up from the shadowed floor below. Billy froze, head cocked. Only a horse snorting in the paddock; Eva slept on.

He replaced the plank, fitting tongue into groove, then rubbed a smear of dust over the seam so daylight wouldn’t betray fresh marks. Satisfied, he wiped palms on his trousers, rose, and padded to the loft’s edge.

Down in the open bay, lantern soot stained rafters like old gun smoke. One bedroll, spread beside the cast-iron stove, held Eva—face turned toward embers gone dull red, hair spilled across the pillow Jesse had scrounged her. Even with blankets tucked to her chin, Billy could tell her shoulders had curled inward, as though she already sensed a chill coming.

He braced forearms on the railing, watching the slow rise and fall of her breath. For a heartbeat he wished she’d stir, catch him in the act, demand explanation—save him from the lie by forcing truth into the open. But she only slept on, lashes motionless.

Quiet enough to fool himself, he whispered, “Keep you safe, dove, even if you damn me for it.” The words hovered, shivered, then were swallowed by timber and gloom.

The mare whinnied outside, a lonely sound.

Billy eased back from the rail, shoulders bowed under weight unseen. He’d slide into the bedroll next to hers in a minute—let her steal the heat off his ribs the way she liked. And when dawn cracked over the place, he’d cook trail coffee, kiss her forehead, joke about fence-mending chores—anything but the miles he meant to ride without her when the time came.

He blew a slow breath through pursed lips, as if extinguishing a candle no one else could see, and padded toward the ladder. Behind him, under a layer of sawdust and half-truths, the bundle rested—small as hope, heavy as betrayal—waiting for the hour it would splinter them both wide open.

folks, about five more chapters and we’re done with this story!!! thank you to everyone who liked it and messaged me about it. if you wanna share any feedback or reblog it I’d really appreciate it. 🥹 love u all x

[rabbitindisguise]

I need to get up to get my delivery of blorbos in nendoroid shape but I'm. I'm so fucking tired 😭 surgery really got me right in the fatigue and pulled zero punches

*crawling across the floor* I must do this. for my figure of Hinata. Tobe fly, etc

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter three: Win Lose or Draal (3/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Jim wins a new ally.

Word count: 1046

Warnings: nop

(Season 1 Episode 6)

Song?: Glory And Gore by Lorde

Previous — Next

Masterlist

Trollmarket was beautiful. The underground city was full of colorful lights, even with the market empty the place looked alive. Immediately, Y/n’s eyes found the heartstone. The gigantic cristal and it’s warmth light left her completely speechless, even made her forget, for a moment, the possibility of her brother dying.

“Where’s everyone?” Y/n asked. She was excited to meet Jim’s new friends and the creatures his book depicted.

“Probably waiting for the fight” explained Toby.

“Oh, right” she took her eyes from the heartstone and looked at her brother “Don’t worry if you die I’ll bring you back” she joked.

Jim gave her a half smile. They were both terrible at hiding their fear.

“Master Jim! Welco-ah! Witch” Blinky stopped mid greeting.

“Blinky! This is my sister Y/n!”

“Oh! My apologies, I must've confused her with someone else!”

“You know a lot of humans?” Y/n lifted her eyebrow confused.

“Oh…well” Blinky’s arms fell down to his side but he put them back up fast “Come on, master Jim. A…great warrior always…shows up in time…” he started pushing Jim to the hero’s forge.

At the forge all the trolls were already excited, filled with the rush of battle.

“Hey, I… I want you to have this” Jim gave a letter to Y/n and another to Toby.

“What’s this?” Asked Toby.

“It says everything I want to say”

“You promised me tacos”

“Now is not the time for lunch, Tobes” Jim scoffed.

“Last week, the three of us went for tacos. I paid. You said, ‘Next time on me’ You’re going to get this letter back unopened after the fight, and when you get back, we’ll get tacos”

“He’s right, Jim. You owe him tacos” Y/n smiled.

“Tacos sound good” Jim laughed.

—

“Draal, son of Kanjigar, son of Tarigar, Draal “the destroyer”, come forth.” Vendel, the white troll announced.

A spiky blue rock started rolling down a path, jumping in the air transforming into a big blue troll with six horns.

“That’s Draal?” Y/n whispered to Toby “He’s huge”

“Yeah” he sounded as worried as her.

“And now, Draal’s combatant, James Lake Jr, son of…Bar-bu-rah. Come forth human trollhunter”

The crowd started booig the second they saw Jim.

“Fight from your heart, Master Jim. It’s strong, stronger than any rock” screamed Blinky.

They close the arena and Blinky said quietly to himself “And certainly, stronger than mine”

But Y/n heard him.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” she reassured “He has to”

Y/n could hear Toby, Aaaarrrgghh and Blinky speak but she couldn’t pay attention to anything they were saying, only the troll trying to kill his brother.

“And, I am Jim, son of Barbara and the amulet choose me”

The flying axes send Draal over the edge of the arena.

“Yes! He did it!” Celebrated Toby.

“It’s not over yet” explained Blinky.

“He has to finish the fight” completed Y/n without taking her eyes off her brother. She had studied the book all night alongside Jim. She knew what her brother had to do next, what the crowd was asking him to do next, they were screaming for death.

Jim grabbed his sword and Y/n closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at her brother killing someone.

Suddenly the crowd was booing again. Y/n opened her eyes and saw her brother standing next to Draal.

“Look, I may not have followed your rules, but neither did the amulet when it chose me. Right now, over our heads, changelings are in Arcadia..”

Fear and confusion filled the room.

Blinky and Toby ran to Jim before he could unveal the secret.

“What is he talking about?” Screamed Vendel.

“You’ll need a Trollhunter who doesn’t have to live in the shadows. This is a time to work together. They’re building the Killahead—“

“STOP! Say no more! We must leave this instant!” Blinky grabbed Jim by the arm.

“Killahead” Y/n repeated. The word left a metallic taste in her mouth.

—

“Oh, praise! You’re alive!” Toby hugged Jim like he would disappear

“And sore. Ease up” Jim chuckled

Aaarrrgghh and Blinky were called by Vendel before they could celebrate the trollhunter’s victory.

“He opened the letter” Y/n laughed.

“I can tell”

“I didn’t” Y/n smiled and gave Jim back the envelope “You can tell what you wrote if you want but I can’t read the words you thought would be your last message to me”

Jim took the letter and smiled back at her.

Y/n turned and started walking. The tears were escaping from her eyes and she didn’t want to be seen like that, especially now, when they were celebrating.

—

“Remember just a normal teenager and his older sister and their normal life” Jim said more to himself than to Y/n.

“Hi, mom. We’re back!" said Y/n while she took her jacket off. A shiver ran through her spine.

‘Strickler?’ She thought. The same uneasiness she felt when she met him was running through her spine again.

She walked behind her brother and saw that it wasn’t Strickler with her mother but a woman.

“In here. Jim, guess who brought tea?”

Jim stopped in front of the woman that was accompanying her mother. Y/n recognised fear flashing in her brother’s eyes but his face suddenly shifted back and started kicking Nomura out. Y/n wanted to stop his brother but Barbara passed out before she could do anything.

“Mom?” She ran to her mother.

“That speech was very moving” The woman left the table “Too bad she won’t remember it when she wakes up and find your body”

She grabbed Jim and threw him to the kitchen.

Y/n hug her mother trying to protect her from the fight.

“What’s going on?” She screamed.

“Go upstairs!” Jim told her sister.

“Jim I won’t …”

“Go!” He screamed while grabbing his backpack looking for the amulet.

She went and hid in the bathroom, her brother quickly joined her.

The troll whistled a song letting them know she was close.

“Not creepy at all” whispered Y/n.

“Yes! Thank you!” Jim grabbed the amulet from behind the mirror.

Before the troll could open the bathroom door someone grabbed her. Y/n and Jim shared a look and went out to investigate. In their backyard, Draal was fighting the troll.

“What are you doing here?” Screamed at the woman-troll.

“Delivering you pain again, Nomura” Draal answered, shielding Y/n and Jim “Do not touch the Trollhunter”

“Suddenly you’re honorable? Sorry to hear about daddy. Bular always liked the way he screamed”

The fight started again and quickly finished when Draal threw Nomura through the air.

“You were right”

“So, you’re not here to kill me?” Jim asked with his sword in his hand.

“Not kill. Protect” Draal looked at Y/n. She smiled at him.

Jim thanked the troll.

Draal quickly started to walk around the house looking for a place to stay.

“Since I can’t go back to trollmarker I’ll stay here, guard your home”

“I don’t think my mom would be down for that” said Jim.

Draal went downstairs to the basement. Eating a piece of coal and taking a couple more out of the heater he said “This is nice. Here I shall protect you, your witch and your fleshbag mother, Bar-bu-rah”

“What did you call me?” Y/n started walking up to him half confused and half offended. Why were the trolls calling her a witch?

Jim stopped his sister from fighting his new protector “Mmmh close enough” he laughed.

“Your mother will awaken soon. I protect. I don’t clean”

Y/n rolled her eyes and went upstairs along side Jim.