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manicmarsupial · 2 years

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The Smallest Outlaw- Chapter 7: Snow More Mountains

Over 6 months since the last update. There is actually a valid reason. I needed urgent surgery to get my gallbladder out in February. Whenever your G.P rings you on a Saturday morning, it's never good. There were that many stones on the ultrasound that he couldn't tell if the gallbladder was inflamed or not. Over 50 stones they found!

Then while on a positive recovery for that, the hip operation I had been waiting over 7 years for gave me a weeks notice...at a hospital 150km away. Now I've got to rebuild the strength back up.

Positive side of things, I have been coming up with new ideas for the story...just not in chronological order.

As usual, suggestions welcome.

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Chapter 7

When the storm eventually subsided and the snow had melted enough to move the wagons, the gang decided to start moving down the mountain and head East. Despite my constant protests, Hosea insisted that it was no trouble looking after me. I suspect that he knew I had doubts, probably because Arthur told him, and as such, had decided the best way to stop me running away due to low self esteem was to keep me quite literally in his pocket. I suppose from a survival perspective, he does have a point…and I can’t deny it’s warmer with his heavy coat insulating his body temperature.

I can hear the bustle of the other members of the camp packing up. Above me I recognise Dutch and Arthur talking. I can’t actually hear what’s being said but Dutch sounds confident.

“And we just robbed a Leviticus Cornwall train,” Hosea’s enthusiastic voice practically thunders in my ears, causing me to jump in fright.

It’s a wonder he didn’t have a career on stage with that volume. His next statement of suggesting the gang hide out at a place called Horseshoe Overlook isn’t as loud, but it still rumbles through his chest.

I feel him move as he finishes talking. The distinct ‘clomp’ of a wooden step and an upward swinging motion that made me topple backward meant Hosea boarded the wagon. I hear Arthur make a yell to urge the horses. The sudden movement causes me to stumble back, hitting Hosea’s chest, which feels like being slammed into a brick wall.

“You ‘right in there, Ollie?” his booming voice rumbles

“Oww…” I groan in reply.

“You going to come out of there?”

“No, it’s cold,” I fake whine.

Either ignoring my complaint, or not believing me, Hosea takes me out of his coat pocket and drops me onto his shoulder. I make an attempt to burrow into his scarf but just do my best to wrap part of it around myself and settle against the crook of his neck.

I can’t deny I’ve become quite fond of him. I’m still suspicious that there’s an ulterior motive behind him being nice to me. No one in this crowd of outlaws knows my hearing is absolutely useless. I was going to wait until they got to a town, but knowing they’re outlaws, I’m just going to escape when they get somewhere warmer.

I watch the layers of snow get thinner, and the patches of grass become bigger. I have been up this mountain a few times, but it seems different from the shoulder of a giant. Maybe being smaller had changed my view of things. I really don’t know.

The cart rocks and I’m brought back to reality.

“Get us out of the stream. You gotta keep us moving, but calm,” the volume of his voice reminding me why I favor being on his shoulder.

The sideways rocking of the cart stops for a brief moment as it continues forward.

There is a loud thunk and the cart lurches forward violently. I’m thrown from Hosea’s shoulder, only to land in his open hand.

“Ah, shit,” I hear Arthur grumble.

The cart shakes a little as Arthur gets off amid questions from the other wagons.

“I broke the goddam wheel,” Arthur gripes.

“Alright, let’s get it fixed,” Hosea’s voice practically thunders as he places his other hand over me as he dismounts the wagon.

He quickly hides me behind his shirt collar as another gang member approaches.

“You need some help?” the new arrival asks with a deep, rumbling voice.

I get a brief look at him. He has a dark complexion, as well as some of the features of the native people.

“Alright Charles,” Hosea’s voice snaps me out of my observation.

“You and me hold the thing up while you try to put the wheel back on, Arthur.”

I duck behind Hosea’s collar as he stands at the back of the cart. I feel his muscles tense when he lifts the wagon. There’s some loud thumping as I presume Arthur forces the wheel back on.

“See, you ain’t so useless after all,” Arthur drawls.

“Not quite,” Hosea gives a sarcastic laugh as he kneels down to pick up some of the fallen luggage.

He stops loading the cart and takes a few cautious steps forward. I poke my head around to see him looking up at a cliff, where three local natives are just sitting on their horses.

“What do you think?” Arthur mumbles.

“If they wanted trouble, we wouldn’t have seen them,” the dark-skinned man, Charles replies.

Hosea raises his hand in greeting.

“Poor bastards. We really screwed them over down here,” he explains quietly.

“Come on, let’s not push our luck.”

I hide back between Hosea’s scarf and collar as he starts moving.

“What happened?” I hear Arthur’s voice.

“Well, get in, and I’ll tell ya.”

I feel the rapid change in direction as he mounts the cart.

He gives Arthur directions, then explains the situation with the local tribes. It’s the usual kicked off good land then sent to struggle in dismal areas. There’s a bit of sugar-coating about the army being ‘unpleasant about it’.

“Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?” Charles asks.

“I fear I was perhaps trying to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our blockheaded driver here,” Hosea replies, aiming the veiled insult at Arthur.

“Don’t blame it on me. Never forget this is a conman, Charles, born and bred.” Arthur retorts.

Oh, great. As if I needed another reason to be suspicious. Now I find out that I’m being held “captive” by a giant bunko artist.

I hear Charles explain about his tribe, or lack of one, then his leaving home at thirteen. I selectively ignore further talking, focusing on the feel of Hosea’s voice as he speaks while I ponder where to go.

#The Smallest Outlaw #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Charles Smith #finally out of the mountains #cue the theme music #Hosea Matthews #Arthur Morgan #what is not seen is me repeatedly watching playthroughs to get the dialogue just right #And I still screwed up #Javier is the one who asks if the broken cart needs help #G/t #giant/tiny #RDR2 G/t

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saturnxlust · 3 months

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Nsfw alphabet with Arthur Morgan

A = Aftercare (what theyre like after sex)

Honestly he’d be a gentleman, i feel like hed take good care of you like running a bath and getting you water.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Yours: he likes your hips and thighs, he likes feeling your skin under his fingers and watch as your skin dips and curves

His: honestly this man is very insecure, you can see that when hes talking to himself in the mirror, but his favorite body part of his would be his hands. He likes how he can get you off from them so easily.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he would be a family guys so he would probably like to cum inside, if your jot ready for kids he’d perfer to cum on your ass or stomach.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes watching you do domestic chores, watching you wash dishes turns him on immediately.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Hes probably gotten around some, hes a handsome guy (even if he doesnt think so) and i imagine that girls would like to but few have.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Mating press or reverse cowgirl, he likes watching you bounce but when hes aggravated he would rather fold you and press you into the mattress.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Hes serious but he’ll probably crack some jokes, but for the most part serious.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Listen, its the 1800s this man is not shaving, he trims every now and again but he’d probably let it griw

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Hes imtimate a lot, all lot of the time he takes it slow and appreciates the moment but like i said before if he had a rough day or if its later in the story and dutch or micah is giving him a hard time hes more likely to be rough but still passionate.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Hes a older man so he probably doesnt do it offen, i imagine he perfers to have you instead of his hand, but if he needs too he probably would.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink definitely, i feel like he has a slight dominance kink too

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Whereever his room set up is, whether is the cabin in the mountains, his tent, his room in the old mansion, his little “tent” or whatever

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

A lot, hes a man, it doesnt take a lot, if you have the slightest skin showing and you make it obvious hes hard immediately.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurting you, or having you be fully clothed and him naked, like I mentioned hes insecure so he’d much rather both be naked or only you be naked

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Yes to both, immediately to both, when and where to both, hed eat you like a starved man and he’d be so sweet if you sucked him off

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Like ive said before it depends, if hes mad rough, if hes not the. Slow and sensual

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hes okay with them considering how busy he is but perfers taking awhile

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

No not really

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Hes old and his sickness can prevent him from going for too long but he could go at least 2-3 rounds

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

No its the 1800s babe there are no toys

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He loves teasing, he could tease you for hours considering how patient he is

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He could be pretty loud but its mostly low grunting, he likes it when your loud though

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He could probably be down to have a threesome with john, maybe.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Tbh hes probably not that big, maybe 5-6 inches, its average length

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, hes probably pent up from how long he went without having someone, the last girl being mary

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He falls asleep with you after you bathe together

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #hes doing his best #one chance #please please please #hes alive

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eupheme · 1 year

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Winter Wonderland Dilfcember Masterlist ❄️

excited to participate in a fun, filthy, and festive dilfcember, created and hosted by the incredible @obiknights! ✨

[series playlist] | [ao3]

— Day 1: Pillow Fort

jim hopper x f!reader | rated g | moodboard + drabble

— Day 3: Baking / Messy Kitchen

obi-wan x gn!reader | moodboard | 5 sentence fic

—Day 5: Lazy Sunday

charlie swan x f!reader | moodboard | 5 sentence fic

— Day 7: Scarf Returned

modern!din djarin x gn!reader | rated g | 1.5k

— Day 9: First Snowstorm of the Season

sdv!harvey x f!reader | rated e | 3.4k

— Day 11: Movie Night

alfred pennyworth x f!reader | rated e | 2.4k

— Day 13: Bonfire

joel miller x f!reader | rated m | 1.9k

— Day 15: Matching Pajamas

alfred pennyworth x reader | rated g | drabble

— Day 17: Cabin

arthur morgan x f!reader | 5 sentence fic

— Day 19: Reading

prof!otto octavius x f!reader | rated e | 1.4k

— Day 21: Wedding

wedding date!obi-wan x f!reader | rated e | 5.1k

— Day 23: Bookstore Date

alfred pennyworth x reader | 5 sentence fic

— Day 27: Date Night In

otto octavius x gn!reader | moodboard | 5 sentence fic

— Day 29: Candles

charlie swan x f!reader x carlisle cullen | rated e | 5k

— Day 31: New Year’s Eve/Midnight Kiss

alfred pennyworth x f!reader | rated t | 2k

Thank you for reading, and hope you enjoy! 💕

#thank you for hosting Theo the prompts were so fun and inspiring!!!!#wwdilfcember #masterlist #jim hopper x reader #alfred pennyworth x reader #otto octavius x reader #obi wan x reader #charlie swan x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller x reader #sdv harvey x reader

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falling-heights · 1 year

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☆ Arthur Morgan ☆ - I gave you all

[pt. 1]

Summary: You meet a ghost from your past several years after splitting ways. Only, he isn’t as kind as you remembered him being. And perhaps, it’s been too long for him to still forgive you.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: violence, gun use, graphic scenery, injury, blood

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“Y o u c a l l i t h o p e-- t h a t f i r e o f f i r e!

I t i s b u t a g o n y o f d e s i r e.”

Trees rushed past in a blur of green and brown. Small patches of wildflowers added a splash of color every now and then. The sun was setting.

It'd been at least 9 hours since you'd entered this train car, and your fatigue was beginning to form a pulsing headache. The idea of sleeping now greatly outweighed your initial excitement.

It wouldn't be long now, you thought, perhaps only a few more hours before you arrived at Blackwater. How long had it been since you'd stepped foot in that town? It would never seem to be long enough. The last image you had of it was stained an ugly red, and you along with it.

But still, through Blackwater, you had a one-way ticket to a new life, to leave this god-forsaken country behind, to shed your wolf-skin and live amongst the fold again.

With one last glance towards the dimly-lit horizon, you watched the last few golden streaks retreat behind the mountains before sinking into the red velvet seating and resting your head against the glass. Feeling the chill of the oncoming night breathing through the window and fogging up the glass, you let the gentle shaking of the train lull you to a peaceful haze; Your last thoughts were of what the coming times might bring.

But that's silly, isn't it? To always be certain of the future-- or better, to think that anyone can change the rolling tides once they've already reached the shore.

It was dark when the train lurched to a shaky halt. The brightest source of light came from the lanterns hanging on the exterior of the train. Thinking that you may have arrived, you glanced through the window, only to be met with a wall of trees and thick foliage. The train was still a ways off from civilization-- at least a couple dozen miles from what you had to guess, and from the nervous whispering of your fellow passengers, it was clear that something was off. They fidgeted with their watches and sleeves, trying to catch light of why the engine died so far from it's intended destination. It didn't seem this stop was scheduled.

Sitting up, your mind flashed with a number of possibilities. Maybe the train had broken down, maybe a stowaway was just being thrown off, maybe something had fallen onto the tracks just up ahead.

But then the rear-facing door swung open, and a guard crept down the aisle. The man was dressed in plainclothes of a brown suit and matching pants-- not policemen. This was the type you would hire to protect cargo from thieves, not to commune with passengers, or by any means to help them. He held a well-worn rifle in one hand, and with the other, he loaded bullets. On his belt hung a singular revolver, visibly in worse condition than the rifle. You only heard three bullets being loaded.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, there's no gentle way to explain our situation," He was sweating, never sparing a glance towards anyone. His eyes remained trained on the clearing of the other cars ahead, flashing at each and everything that moved. He sounded beside himself, yet still attempting to keep everyone else calm. "We are facing a robbery, it seems."

The whispering quickly evolved into panic, elicited even more so when an array of gunfire went off just up ahead. The guard raised his arms, commanding silence from the travelers.

"I know this might be a very alarming situation for all of you, but please, try to stay calm," He was hardly calm himself. The grip on his gun was tight and trembling. And with only three bullets, he must have already known what his terms were. "The best thing you can do is stay quiet and comply. I don't wish that anyone here suffers to something like this, but if I am unable to keep you all safe, then it's a better bargain for you to lose your valuables than to lose your lives."

A familiar feeling sunk in-- despair. As though a past life was coming back to haunt you. You hadn’t felt such harsh degrees of terror like this in years. As panic set in, painful memories clawed their way from your head. Of the money you'd burned. Of the scars left beneath your garments. Of the guns left buried in Rhodes. Of anything, leaving those guns behind hurt the most. They had been a gift after all, from someone once special. But times like those were far gone in the past, left behind by what you'd sought to bury and destroy.

The guard opened the side door toward the front of the car. Visibility was finite through the pitch-black air. What light the exterior lanterns did provide was meager and a garish orange. He took a final breath and stepped forward.

His head ended up hitting the ground faster than his feet could.

A bang.

A splat.

And then a thud.

The gun misfired as it landed, startling you from your seat. All within three seconds.

His body collapsed in the mud, and the entire side of the train car's windows was mottled with blood. Someone behind you screamed. A woman. A few more followed her. Someone started to cry, clutching their pearl-lined purses, and silver coated rings. Yet, you had nothing to hold, nothing to give. Nothing to pray you don’t lose. You had nothing left except the ticket in your hands and your life.

Had this man really been the last one left? Nothing but a hired escort? And yet, knowing this, instead of playing the docile part that could have saved his life, he stepped into death's hand.

What man could ever be such a fool?

Now standing, an arrangement of ideas rushed through your head, with one message shared among them: 'Get out. Leave.' Your feet carried you, eyes guiding each step. The rear-facing door was still swung open. It could very well be your only chance.

Quietly backing away from the front, ignoring the pitying pleas of others as you passed through them. How scared they seemed-- how helpless to their unfortunate circumstances. You wanted nothing to do with their situation, however, a small sight instilled a small pause in your movements-- a little girl, saddled in the lap of her mother, who tried in these moments to comfort her child. A fleeting thought went to her, perhaps of a sort of sympathetic appeal, and then you continued to move. Perhaps if you did not already know how things would end, you might have offered to help. But you would not make the same mistake as the guard. You were no fool.

Small dapples of light began to spread from the front of the train, quickly approaching. Time was against you. A hand went to your hair, tacitly removing the hair pin keeping several strands pinned up. A knife would have been preferable, perhaps even a gun, but a thin needle would have to do. The pointed end barely stuck out much farther than your palm as you held it closely.

Just a few more steps now.

You let out a breath once you felt your free hand hit the handle to the wooden framing. Turning, you were just about to make it when--

The barrel of a gun stared you down. Behind it, a masked man. It seems you weren't quick enough. They had gone around the side, closing any exits.

"Going somewhere, little lady?" You didn't recognize the voice, but there was a snideness in his tone, thinking he'd just caught a little bird trying to escape. He stepped forward, onto the car, and you mirrored by taking a step back. "I suggest you turn back around."

The gun's hammer was cocked, a death sentence if you chose to disobey. You would have to wait a moment more. Sitting in the closest empty seat, his eyes gleamed in satisfaction. He made his first mistake in moving the gun away from you. The second mistake was taking steps past you, leaving himself open from behind. And thus, the moment had arrived.

Suddenly lunging back up, your arm swung down, piercing the skin of his neck. Digging it further, you kept pushing until all that was left of the hairpin was the decorative gold head.

"Fucking bitch!" He hollered, his hand defensively starting to swat at his neck. Giving him no chance to rebut, you turned heel and ran back to the door, giving it a singular, hearty shove, and jumping down to the muddy ground. The gun fired, lodging itself into the wooden frame of the train, but its damage was dealt. Four men, all armed, one with a lantern, immediately became aware of your presence on the opposite end of the car.

The lantern was of a kind you had seen only used by watch-men and hunters, except for the few times that you had used one during your more active hours. The kind that blocked most of its light, except through a small glass sight, allowing for handlers to focus a solid beam in any direction. Right now, that light was focused on you, a quivering form, half-crouching on the muddy tracks.

Behind you, an open meadow sat, its own invitation laced with bad omen. The only hope of getting through such an exposed field would be to run, and though the grass may be tall, hiding would never be an option. Ahead of you, the trees loomed, almost screaming at you to break from your spot and find solitude in its foliage. Through the trees, you would at least have the chance to lose them.

So, truly, what were your choices? To hide, or to run?

Hiding surely. You doubted your body could outrun 4 grown men, none of which seemed to be any less athletic than men in their prime. Their were a few eerily moments of silence. Everyone was deciding what to do next, including you.

With an unstable breath, you quickly gathered the ruffled layers of your dress, hoisted the heavy fabric, and took off towards your only chance at freedom. There would only be a minute head start before they would the chase. Every moment counted. Every second decided how this would end.

Your shoes were not made for running, evidently, as the heels dug further into the mud with every step, causing a shot balance and a slow start. Some indistinct yelling sounded from behind. Three of the four men followed in pursuit of you, the other likely told to continue operations with the other passengers. Six pairs of feet quickly crept up on you, pounding into the ground heavily, the forest floor was practically quaking beneath you. You were correct in choosing the forest over the meadow. These men were apt, keeping a steady pace on you, like bloodhounds hunting down fresh game.

The ground was uneven, hardly visible. You would find yourself falling for brief moments with sudden dips in the ground, and crawling when it rose again just as swift. The farther you went, the more you prayed that the moon would continue to guide your eyes. But, the forest grew thicker with every step. And soon, the canopy overhead of Elms and Alpines would completely consume what little help you had left.

The sounds of footfall faded, first six, then 4, and then just 2, until ceasing altogether, and for a moment, you were hopeful that they'd given up. Taking a quick glance, you almost froze in place, still slowing down significantly. They had indeed stopped their chase, however it wasn't from a lack of interest. From the small glance, only one had managed to stay on your trail, however, though he longer chased, the outline of a well-worn rifle was clear. He was watching your form retreating. It was obvious their intentions weren't to let you live, and instead of wasting their energy, they must have decided a quick and steady aim would be more efficient.

He missed the first shot. The bullet struck the ground just by your ankles. It would take him about 4 seconds to reload the gun. There was doubt he would miss again. Running wouldn't do you any good anymore either. Your energy was on reserve, and the heavy dress dragged your body down. But what could you do in just 4 seconds? There wasn't time to think, no time to escape the scope of range.

The tree's trunks were thin and narrow, but it was all you had. Running to the closest stump, your back slammed into the bark, skin pulsing with adrenaline. Bracing for the sound of another misfire, but the trigger wasn't pulled. For precious seconds, you waited, catching your breath, eyes flying wildly around for any sign of movement, but your panic was met with silence.

And then you realized, he was waiting for you. Why should he waste another bullet? You would eventually need to leave your spot, and he would wait until you did. Better make it count, then.

Around, you could barely see. Various pillars of other trees and bushes was about all you could make out. But just ahead, was what looked like a large divot in the forest floor. Perhaps a ditch or a small creek. You couldn't hear any running water, but the blood hammering in your ear-drums would surely deafen a small creek. Still, it was likely your best shot at survival. If you could just make it into that trench, you might be able to avoid any further gunfire, and you could follow the channel out of the area. If you could just make it from this tree to that ditch.

Funny, you thought for a moment, that despite how much you tried to bury it, you still ended up on the end of a gun. Perhaps, not the end you would have preferred. There was nothing left to do. Death would meet you regardless of what you did now. Stay, and he would eventually lose patience. Move, and likely be shot before you could make more than a few feet. But only one option had any chance. With a deep breath, you stepped out.

You thought to your mother then. Of her, you really couldn't remember much, but her words have lasted far longer than any other memories. In this moment, as your foot met the ground, digging in to the cold mud an old warning of hers slowly drifted to your cerebral thoughts.

"Such a little dreamer, such big ideas.... . Some day, you will need to face the world, for how it works, and not for how you wish it to.”

Your other foot foot kissed the ground, Of your mother, and her words, one thing you knew was certain about life. Death would one day meet you. Of course, this was inevitable, but to think that it would have come so soon.

Your third step was your final. Finally, the bullet's target was found. It lodged itself snugly in your upper calf, ripping through muscle and tendon, completely eviscerating the lower half of your leg. A strange sort of yelp, like an injured dog left your lips. Your body turned parallel to the mud, half falling, half diving into the sticky muck. The rough impact caused your neck to snap down, snagging your upper lip on a root, and many more dug into your skin roughly. The taste of blood was strong, but the pain was almost numb compared your shredded leg, which now felt like it had been caught in a meat grinder. You didn't need to look to tell that you were losing blood. There were little droplets of blood spattered along fallen leaves, mixing into the brown sludge. The warm, sticky liquid could be felt leaking down your leg.

Wheezing, trying to lift yourself up, your body was crying itself along the ground. Unwilling any mobility, your blown leg shook involuntarily, muscles trying to constrict despite no longer being connected to each other. The feeling of shock was starting to creep up the rest of your leg, spreading through waves of heated chills. But still, despite the inability to stand, you tried dragging yourself. By now, from the pain, and the exhaustion that you felt growing, your breath sounded more like shrill, desperate wails. Frustration and despair ebbing with every exhale. The tears couldn't be restrained any longer. Letting out a sob, your head pressed against your outstretched arm, fingers clawing against the mud, filling the underside of your nails with mud.

Footsteps quickly approached.

A string of blood infested saliva hung from your lips, stretching thickly to the ground. The man towered over you, the lantern hanging from his hand, a poorly-taken care of rifle supported by his shoulder.

"Thought we'd let a pretty little bird like you get away, did'ya?" Your wheezing suddenly broke. Familiarity. The Irishman set the lantern down, letting the light bleed into the proximate area. "Let's see what good of a catch you are."

A gloved hand, reeking of gun oil and tobacco, snatched your cheeks, squeezing your face, forcibly making your lips pucker. He raised your head sharply upwards, causing you to grimace in discomfort. Clearly, despite the tears and sweat that clouded your eyes, Sean's face was unmistakable. But despite the pain, and the misery, you glared defiantly.

"Are my eyes deceiving me...?" For a rare moment in his life, Sean sounded faint, equally shocked at the possibility at such a reunion. But, it was brief, for after a moment of quiet, he began chuckling to himself. "Been awhile, hasn't it, Sweets? Thought'd we'd see the last of each other after what happened. I almost can't believe this."

Choosing to remain silent, Sean hummed and allowed your face to fall.

"Can't say I haven't missed you, though. Can't say I'm the only one either..." His voice changed again, seeming a bit more dull, as though the thought of your absence all these years held genuine weight. "Oh, I'm forgettin' my manners... A lot's changed, y'know."

"Sean, please listen to me..." He circled around you, kicked back the ends of the dress that covered your leg.

"Agh! I really did a number, didn't I? " Sean knelt, gently grasping the lower half of your leg, turning it from one side to the other to discern the damage he'd dealt. "Sorry 'bout that there. But, well, uh, I guess thank god it wasn't some poor innocent girl, right?"

"Sean, I need your help." It was pathetic, begging to someone who was once a friend. Someone who knew many secrets, and shared even more. He stood up, circling back around to face you. The other two grunts finally caught up, though neither spoke up.

"Oh, do you now? Here, I wanna see your face all proper." He smiled to himself, rustling through his coat pockets before presenting a small handkerchief that was partly matted with dried sweat. He offered it to you, and hesitantly, you accepted. "Well, I don't know. Seems like you were just fine with leaving all us so suddenly. If I didn't know any better, I'd say's you might just be trying to appeal to my soft side. But not you, right?"

"This isn't funny, Sean." Using the rag to clean your mouth and face. "I don't want to be any part of this."

"So, we ought to just leave you here then, that's your solution? Poor little thing bleeding out? Hand me another rag, pal." After being given a small rolled bandage by one of the other men, Sean dropped to the ground next to you, and began to lowly unwind the roll. "That just don't sit right with me. You can't even stand at this point. But that's not really what's so concerning. You caused a bit of a mess behind you. Don't you want to see the rest of the group? One last 'fare-thee-well'?"

He wasn't being genuine, it should have been clear from the start that trying to barter with him would be a waste of time. The last few words dug especially deep, almost as though he was finding your helplessness a tad too funny. You fell silent, opting to guess how this would go. Sean said a few words, none of which you really listened to, until he picked the lantern back up, conclusively.

"Tie her up. I'm off to get tha' Big Boy." They complied, Sean flashed a wide smile. When they finished their binds, Sean flashed another look that screamed with excitement, "Don't run off now, we're all in for a real treat."

Bitterly, you waited for his return, expecting perhaps Dutch to be in tow. However, when the light of the lantern pierced through the tree line once more, it was evident that Dutch was not the man returning with Sean. Another figure sat broadly on a black shire.

You thought you'd seen a ghost.

Perhaps you had.

The one tiring you couldn't bury, the sole reason that you tried to leave. Upon you, the sight of an early grave closed in. you felt hollow through your chest, like your soul was trying to leave you then, but both body and soul were trapped, unable to flee from this horrid sight The man you once thought had the prettiest eyes, and such a gentle face.

All of that was gone now. It had been long before either of you had last seen each other. Trees whispered to each other, gossiping with the wind. All wondering what would happen next. Upon his horse, he descended, Adjusting a pair of riding gloves as he did. A dirtied facecloth hung from his face, masking his current emotions from the outside world. Silence lay, as though the forest itself lay uneasy with such solemn presence.

"Leave us."

{The gif provided is actually the Arthur from my own save file}

#arthur morgan #yandere #yandere arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #yandere rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #yandere x reader #yandere red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction

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grandvhs · 2 years

Text

lista de nomes masculinos que estava no meu bloco de notas e eu só lembrei agora

starting with A ;;

aaron.

adair.

adam.

aiden.

ajax.

alec.

alfie.

allistar.

anderson.

andrew.

andy.

angus.

antonio.

anthony.

archer.

archibald.

archie.

aries.

arlo.

arthur.

ashley.

ashton.

austen.

avery.

axel.

starting with B ;;

bailey.

beau.

beckham.

beckett.

bellamy.

benjamin.

bennett.

bentley.

blade.

blake.

blaine.

blaise.

blue.

bobbie.

bodhi.

brad.

brandon.

braxton.

brayden.

brent.

brett.

brock.

brody.

brooke.

bryson.

starting with C ;;

caleb.

callum.

calvin.

cameron.

carlisle.

carlos.

carson.

carter.

casey.

chad.

chandler.

charlie.

chase.

chaz.

christian.

christopher.

cody.

colby.

cole.

cooper.

colton.

connor.

conrad.

corbin.

corey.

starting with D ;;

dakota.

dallas.

damien.

damon.

dante.

darian.

darron.

darryl.

david.

dawson.

declan.

demetri.

dennison.

denver.

derek.

diego.

diesel.

dimitri.

dixon.

dominic.

donovan.

drake.

drew.

dustin.

dwayne.

starting with E ;;

eason.

eaton.

eddy.

edmund.

edward.

elijah.

elior.

ellias.

elliot.

ellis.

elyas.

ember.

emerson.

emery.

emilio.

emmett.

enzo.

eric.

ernie.

ethan.

ethaniel.

evan.

everett.

everson.

ezar.

starting with F ;;

fabio.

fallon.

farah.

felix.

fernando.

ferris.

felton.

finn.

finnegan.

finnick.

fitz.

fitzgerald.

fletcher.

floyd.

flynn.

foley.

forest.

francisco.

franco.

frankie.

franklin.

fraser.

frasier.

freddie.

fredrik.

starting with G ;;

gabe.

gabriel.

gale.

gallagher.

garcia.

gareth.

garrett.

gary.

gavin.

gene.

george.

gerard.

gilbert.

giovanni.

glenn.

gordon.

grady.

graeme.

grant.

greggory.

gregor.

greyson.

griffin.

gus.

guy.

starting with H ;;

hadley.

hale.

haley.

hamilton.

hamish.

hansel.

harley.

harris.

harrison.

harry.

harvey.

haven.

hayes.

heath.

hector.

hendrix.

henrik.

henry.

holton.

howard.

hudson.

hugh.

hugo.

hunter.

hyde.

starting with I ;;

ian.

ibrahim.

icarius.

idris.

igor.

iman.

immanuel.

imran.

indi.

indiana.

indigo.

indra.

inrique.

irwin.

isaak.

isaiah.

isaias.

ishmael.

isobell.

israel.

ivan.

ivey.

ivor.

ivory.

izzy.

starting with J ;;

jack.

jacob.

jagger.

jai.

james.

jamie.

jason.

jaspar.

jaxon.

jaydon.

jed.

jeremy.

jesse.

jett.

joel.

jameson.

jonathon.

jordan.

jose.

joseph.

joshua.

jude.

julian.

junior.

justin.

starting with K ;;

kade.

kai.

kalen.

kameron.

kane.

kasey.

kayden.

keaton.

keegan.

keenan.

kellan.

kendall.

kendrick.

kevin.

khalil.

kian.

kiefer.

kieran.

kingsley.

kingston.

klaus.

kohen.

konrad.

kristoff.

kyle.

starting with L ;;

lachlan.

lamar.

lambert.

lance.

landon.

langston.

lawrence.

lawson.

leeroy.

lennon.

leo.

leonardo.

levi.

lewis.

liam.

lincoln.

lionel.

logan.

lorenzo.

louis.

luca.

lucas.

lucky.

lucis.

luke.

starting with M ;;

mackenzie.

madden.

maddox.

malaki.

malcolm.

manuel.

marco.

marcus.

marley.

marshall.

martin.

mason.

matteo.

matthew.

max.

micah.

michael.

miguel.

mike.

miles.

miller.

milo.

mitchell.

morgan.

moses

starting with N ;;

nadir.

naiser.

nasir.

nate.

nathan.

nathaniel.

naveen.

naydon.

ned.

nico.

neil.

nelson.

nero.

nicholai.

nicholas.

nila.

niles.

nixon.

noah.

noel.

nolan.

norman.

north.

nylan.

nyle.

starting with O ;;

oakley.

ocean.

octavius.

odell.

olaf.

oliver.

ollie.

omar.

omari.

orion.

orlando.

osborn.

oscar.

o’shea.

osten.

oswald.

otis.

otto.

owen.

oxley.

starting with P ;;

pablo.

page.

palmer.

parker.

parrish.

patrick.

paul.

paulo.

pax.

paxton.

payton.

penn.

percy.

perry.

peter.

phineas.

phoenix.

pierce.

pierre.

prescott.

presley.

preston.

prince.

princeton.

puck.

starting with Q ;;

qadim.

qadir.

quain.

quenby.

quill.

quimby.

quincy.

quinn.

quinten.

starting with R ;;

randy.

raymond.

reese.

reid.

remy.

reuben.

rhett.

rhys.

richard.

richie.

ricky.

riley.

robert.

robin.

roger.

roman.

romeo.

ronan.

ronnie.

ross.

rowen.

ryan.

ryder.

ryker.

rylan.

starting with S ;;

sage.

sailor.

salem.

samson.

samuel.

sascha.

sawyer.

saxon.

scott.

sean.

sebastian.

seth.

shane.

shiloh.

simon.

sinclair.

skyler.

sonny.

spencer.

stanley.

stefan.

steven.

stevie.

storm.

sullivan.

starting with T ;;

tamir.

tanner.

tate/tait.

tatum.

taylor.

teddy.

theo.

thomas.

timothy.

tobias.

toby.

todd.

tommy.

tory.

trace.

travis.

trent.

trevor.

trey.

tristan.

troye.

tucker.

tyler.

tyrone.

tyson.

starting with U ;;

umair.

umar.

urien.

usama.

starting with V ;;

valentine.

valentino.

vance.

vaughn.

victor.

vincent.

vinn.

vinnie.

vladimir.

starting with W ;;

wade.

walden.

wallace.

walter.

warner.

warren.

warrick.

waylan.

wayne.

wendall.

wes.

wesley.

west.

whitley.

wilbert.

william.

willis.

wilmer.

windsor.

winslow.

winston.

wolf.

wren.

wyatt.

wynter.

starting with X ;;

xachary.

xan.

xander.

xavier.

xeno.

ximen.

xylon.

starting with Y ;;

yahto.

yakub.

yasin.

yasi.

york.

ysrael.

yuri.

yusef.

starting with Z ;;

zachary.

zahir.

zander.

zane.

zavier.

zed.

zeke.

zion.

zolten.

#name ideas #male names #nomes masculinos #rpg #prompt #writing help #list

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rcckstars · 6 months

Text

TRELAWNY (@gwidien) said: “ what is this madness? ” ✩

❛ i'll tell you what it is- the workin's of a goddamn lunatic who's gone an' fooled himself into thinkin' he's some sorta god. just 'cause your ass ain't hangin' from a tree don't mean you ain't a nut. ❜ a glare is shot in dutch and co's direction. if looks could kill, mister van der linde and that rat bastard lackey of his would be long gone, languishing six feet under by now. really. when you strip away the charm and the plans, the fancy clothes and the cigars, just who- or what- is dutch van der linde? what does he stand for? apart from himself. not some other world- a new one, a better one- just the same old, shitty, senseless one they're living in now. but remade, according to the vision of a weak, selfish, fallible man. in her mind, men like arthur morgan are worth ten of the sort like him. ❛ you're smart to have been a stranger to this mess. if you ask me, we all should split. before the wheels really start fallin' off this damn thing. ❜ because just what the hell are they here for, exactly? out of love- loyalty? obligation? what the hell is she herself still doing here? where else would she go? maybe it's that, for some, this is all they've known, all they've got; this life. this family. but ain't family supposed to mean something? that you stick together and look out for each other? without that, without loyalty, what have they got? n o t h i n g. nothing but a whole lot of trouble. and grief.

#i instantly read this in t's voice sksk #i ADORE these two interacting #so much potential for chaos n shenanigans #a dynamic duo??#ty so v much for this also <3 #gwidien #[ ☆. interactions- SADIE. ]

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 2 years

Note

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed. B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind. C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will. D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t. F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom? G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it? I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why? J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr. (You don’t have to care about it or follow it; it just has to be something that Tumblr made you aware of.) K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc? M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend. N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice). O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of? Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why. R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom? T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites. V - Which character do you relate to most? W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom. Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go! (Prompts optional but encouraged.)

Thanks for the ask!!!

A- Chris and Street from S.W.A.T, sadly the actor that plays Chris has left so we won't be getting any in the new seasons.

B - Eddie and Dustin, I just love their friendship so much. Eddie would have been a great mentor for Dustin. It's one of the sweetest platonic I've seen in a while.

C - Bill Compton and Sookie Stackhouse, for obvious reasons.

D - JJ and (Jennifer Jareau) and her husband Will.

F - I have no idea, I tend to come and go, maybe Criminal Minds.

G - First OTP ever was Arthur/Gwen from BBC's Merlin.

I - Supernatural, it just go so overwhelming and the love for the actors no matter their actions got a bit much for me.

J - Our Flag Means Death, I have no idea about it but I see it everywhere.

K - Jason Stackhouse or Steve Harrington. I loved the charter growth they showed as the seasons went on.

M - Juice Ortiz from Sons of Anarchy, he's so sweet and sad.

N - Sons of anarchy and True Blood, more platonic affection, more man butt, healthy relationships.

0 - Work Song - Hozier for Derek Morgan/ Penelope Gracia. (This one was so hard.)

Q - True Blood, it's dead.

R - Chibs/Juice from Sons of Anarchy.

T - Bill Compton was malicious in his pursuit of Sookie and set out of control her from day one.

U - Derek Morgan from Criminal Minds because he's hot and sweet. Rosa from Brooklyn Nine-Nine because she's badass and Steve from Stranger Things because he's awesome.

V - Penelope from Criminal Minds because she's affected by what she sees but does it anyway because it's got to be done.

W - Chacerters that flip on a dime, if you're going to make someone good evil, make the change believable.

Z - True Blood should have ended at season 4 with Sookie choosing Eric or being alone, the last 2 seasons were dreadful and the only thing that saved season 5 was all the lore. I have no idea why but writers love fucking fans over in the last season, I've lost count of the number of shows that have been ruined by shitty last seasons and bad character wirtting.

#ask game

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rainydaygt · 1 month

Note

u have fave characters right? from any media? alright, list them and rank on a scale of 1-10 how good they would be with a tiny.

Okay so I got a little carried away and these are not ranked in any particular order (except alistair) so WHOOPS, i should be put on r/wooosh but here you go. Enjoy <3

One - Alistair Theirin, Dragon Age (origins)

My wife. He would be VERY good with a tiny. Careful and protective and gentle—constantly checking to make sure youre doing alright and cracking stupid jokes to keep the mood light. His big, stupid hands are as warm as his big, stupid heart. You would be 10000% safe around him.

Two - Fenris, Dragon Age (2)

My girlfriend. Fenris is, despite all appearances, one of the most normal chill guys in dragon age imo. He would not be pushy or grab you out of nowhere, respecting boundaries and personal space is extremely important to him. There’s not another place quite so safe as Fenris’s hands in all of Kirkwall. Actually that’s not saying a lot, Kirkwall sucks.

Three - Arthur Morgan, Red Dead Redemption (2)

My husband. Now, Arthur may look and act all big and tough and scary, but deep down he’s got a soft spot for little things and creatures. You would be no exception to this. You’d make several appearances in his journal and in his hands. He doesn’t fully trust himself with you, feeling like a big brute that could easily crush you, but he trusts most of the camp even less. Arthur gets into too much trouble himself to guarantee your safety, but he would do everything in his power to keep you alive and well.

Four - Wyll Ravengard, Baldur’s Gate (3)

My husband(2.0). Wyll quite literally treats you like a prince/princess. You will receive the utmost loyalty, chivalry and respect when you’re around him. Every hand will be presented as an offering; a question, rather than a demand or a force. He will be wide eyed with wonder at you, how small you are, and overcome with the urge to protect you at all costs. He may come across a bit overbearing in this regard, but his heart is always in the right place.

Five - Viktor, Arcane

Viktor would be very, very curious about you. He might be a bit less reserved when it comes to picking you up, but he’s gentle and careful nonetheless. He thinks you’re incredible and is reluctant to let you go, assuming this is a borrower situation; but you both know you’ll be back. His hands will be twitching to hold you again until you do. What a wonderful curiosity you are, to him. He’d want to study you, at least a little, and even if you refuse he’s still at least taking notes on your behavior. He can’t help it!

Six - Astarion Ancunin, Baldur’s Gate (3)

Albeit curious, Astarion wouldn’t pay you much mind at first. It’s not until you start showing him consistent kindness and interest that he actually starts to have conversations with you and wants to be around you. In the beginning, if you’re to be picked up it would be with an eye roll and a gentle fist. Later on, he cares a great deal more about if you’re comfortable and starts to offer his hand to you instead. Why you seem to like him so much, romantic or not, he can’t seem to puzzle out. He can’t provide you with the earthly services he’s given for so long, so you’re a curiosity and a mystery to him and he is enraptured by you.

Seven - Zevran, Dragon Age (Origins)

If there’s one thing that’s important to Zevran, it’s bodily autonomy, and due to this you would be asked every single time you need to be picked up or carried somewhere. It doesn’t matter how comfortable you get with each other, he’s firm on always making sure to ask before you’re in his hands. He never closes you in a fist and is incredibly gentle and careful. It feels very surprising to you, seeing as he’s a literal assassin, but it’s more than welcome. It’s very easy to feel very safe around him.

That’s all I could conjure up for now! The rest of them would all just be more Dragon Age characters and I already fear I’ve accidentally mischaracterized them as is. So, thanks for the ask, do come back to my box again!!

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hmsharmony · 1 year

Text

MOBILE NAVIGATION:

About Fanworks (generally) Fanvids Fandoms and Ships Tags Fic Masterlist (after the cut)

Austin & Ally

One-Shots (Austin/Ally)

Make a Move ('Cause I'm Ready) -- In which Austin and Ally come up with more excuses to kiss after several failed attempts under the mistletoe, and maybe, possibly, finally get their act together. Post-"Mix Ups & Mistletoe." Rated G.

Multi-Chapter (Austin/Ally)

Speak Aloud What Until Now I've Only Sung -- It takes eleven years of bad timing, and one called off engagement, but eventually they figure it out. Austin/Ally through the years. Rated T; complete (4/4).

Merlin

One-Shots (Arthur/Gwen)

Burnt Chicken Never Won Fair Lady -- Modern AU. As Arthur navigates cooking a dead bird while simultaneously wooing Gwen, Gwen tries to survive Arthur's attempts to impress her, an old man who really doesn't like her, and Morgana's innuendos. Rated T. Fragment of Light -- Spec fic for 4x11 (includes some spec for 4x09 and 4x10, with the airing of 4x09 rendering most of this AU). When Arthur banishes Gwen from Camelot, he must come to grips with his mistake and let go of the life he destroyed. Meanwhile, Gwen struggles with the loss of not only her future but her confidence in the future of Camelot as well. Rated T.

A Handful of Sand -- After several months of war, Uther finally decides to pursue an alliance with one of the neighboring kingdoms. But with Camelot run dry of both money and knights there is little he can offer in return … save his son. Written for Drabble Challenge #3 at ag_fics (first place). Rated G. Multa Paucis -- More than once Gaius’s words turn Gwen’s world upside down, changing her (and her relationship with Arthur) forever. Written for Drabble Challenge #2 at ag_fics (first place). Rated G. There's So Much More Than Me and You -- Her loyalty to Camelot and faith in its future knows no bounds, and it'll be her downfall. Written for the Queen of Hearts Spec!Fest. Rated T (cw: mention of possible main character death). To Bargain a Heart (or at Least a Kiss) -- Based on Colin Morgan’s interview with the 7PM Project, in which he revealed that a S3 episode begins with Arthur and Merlin taking part in a bar brawl. Arthur returns, injured, and it is Gwen, hardly amused by Arthur’s latest escapade, who tends to him. Rated G. We Are Just Breakable Girls and Boys -- Hours after Morgana's departure, Arthur and Gwen deal with the fallout and their own feelings of guilt. Spoilers for 2x12. Rated G.

One-Shots (Gen)

A Pirate's Life (is Not for Spoiled Princes) -- Set in pre-Merlin Camelot. Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen play a game of pirates. Written for the lovely mustbethursday3 for Camelot_Love's Spring Fling. Rated G. Hints of pre-Arthur/Gwen.

Spider-Man (MCU)

Multi-Chapter (Peter/MJ)

scars are souvenirs you never lose -- A boy walks into the donut shop the next day. The interaction lasts all of three minutes. And when the door closes behind Peter Parker—when Michelle feels the return of that sharp ache and constant confusion she’s lived with since November—it’s only then that she realizes. She mentions the encounter to Ned, because she's always sharing customer service stories and this is certainly one of the stranger ones. But she keeps her realization to herself—she's not sure how to tell him, not when she barely understands it herself. Because a stranger walked into the donut shop, and for three minutes, her life had made sense. MJ (and Ned) searching for answers in a post-NWH world. Rated T; complete (5/5).

someone out there who can bring me back to you -- Six months ago, Peter Parker was declared killed in action on his way back from his last mission. MJ knows it's a cover up, and nothing's going to stop her from finding out the truth--not time travel, not murder bots, and certainly not the woman MJ knows is responsible for his disappearance: Eleanor Bishop. But 14-year-old Michelle Jones-Watson? Yeah, she might complicate things. An Adam Project AU. Rated M; in progress (4/6).

#fic masterlist #mine #fanvid masterlist

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sidewalkstamps · 2 years

Photo

C. A. Tharnstrom & Co. Contractors Skokie, Ill. (Photo taken by Hannah Scherner on August 15, 2022 on Haddock & Well St. in Chicago, Il.).

I believe C.A. is Carl August Petersson Tharnstrom, 1875-1913. He was born November 20, 1875 in Gölshult, Sweden and died June 28, 1913 in Chicago, Il. He is buried at the Graceland Cemetery in Chicago, Il. He was married to Sigrid and had a daughter named Dollie Aurora Tharnstrom (1902-1981) (find a grave index). According to Ancestry, he had four other children: Ragnar C. (1906-1975), Ann Virginia (1908-2007), Evelyn Carlyle Christine (1913-2004), and Ida.

C. A. Tharnstrom & Co. was located at 5412 N. Clark St. in Chicago at some point, now a psychology practice. (This is possibly from the 1953 Certified List of Domestic and Foreign Corporations, Volume 2, Illinois Office of Secretary of State, but unfortunately my notes are unclear.)

Leonard Carl Tharnstrom (January 16, 1917, Chicago, Il. - August 7, 2005, Evanston, Il.). He was the son of Alfred and Anny Tharnstrom. I’m unclear exactly how he was related to C.A., though. He was a general contractor at C. A. Tharnstrom & Co. and “received the ‘Excellence in Concrete’ award from the Concrete Contractors Association of Chicago for the 625 North Michigan building and also built Three Crowns Park, Evanston and St. Timothy’s Lutheran Church, Skokie” (www.donnellanfuneral.com).He was also involved with the Richmond Avenue Building Corporation.

According to Ancestry.com, there were only two Tharnstrom families in America in 1920 and they were both in Illinois.

Arthur “Art” Clarence Johnson (September 18, 1926, Chicago, Illinois - December 10, 2016, Wesley Chapel, Florida). “Art began his career in the construction industry, specializing in carpentry, with the C.A. Tharnstrom Construction Co.; working many years with them on high rise buildings in Chicago, including the John Hancock Center.” He then started his own firm before retiring to Florida in 1988 (www.dignitymemorial.com).

Louis G. Rexing (September 6, 1960, Evanston, Il. - ?) has been the controller of C. A. Tharnstrom & Company since 1989. His interests are “model railroading, travel, chess, golf” (prabook.com).

In the Official Gazette of the United States Patent and Trademark Office: Trademarks, Volume 1029, Issue 4, Tharnstrom has a listing of a stylized T trademark filed August 7, 1981 and being located in Skokie, Il. still (U.S. Department of Commerce, Patent and Trademark Office, 1983).

In 2000, Charles A. Tharnstrom was listed as being a citizen of the United States and holding 12.47% of class of some stock issued by Morgan Stanley Dean Witter & Co. as reported in Securities and Exchange Commission Schedule 13D. Honestly I don’t follow exactly what this statement is telling and I don’t yet know how/if Charles is connected to Carl.

One notable building they were the main contractor for is the Wyndham Grand Chicago Riverfront (Chicago, IL) - 385 ft. tall, 36 floors, completed in 1960. Designed by Milton Schwartz & Associates.

0 notes

ratcatcher0325 · 2 years

Text

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #3)

Good morning! Chapter 3 has arrived! In which there's a dress up montage because... why not?

Previous: Chapter #2

Next: Chapter #4

CW: Adult language, dehumanization, references to abuse, mild non-sexual nudity

________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #3: For the Apparel Oft Proclaims the Man

[Penn's POV]

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I found myself waking up, bright light piercing though my eyelids before I’d even opened them. I was comfortable. Extremely comfortable. Compared to what I’d called a bed for many years, this was the height of luxury. If this was a dream, I had no desire to wake. Just warmth, quiet, comfort. Things I had lacked for so long I didn’t think I would ever have them again. Finally, yawning and stretching, I opened my eyes, the ceiling so far away, high, high above me. A sight I was used to beholding, of course, but nevertheless discouraging to be the first thing I was reminded of when I woke up: how little I was and how this world was not made for me.

The next thing I felt was the pain. Goddammit. My whole body ached, my head was abuzz with grogginess. My legs felt like lead. I tried to push up to sitting but my arms gave way underneath me. I plopped back down on the pillow without making a sound. I barely made a dent in the fabric, after all. Ugh.

It was so quiet and serene this morning. Such a different home than the one I’d suffered in for so long. I could only imagine the drunken and hungover guests just now picking themselves up off the floor, eyes bloodshot, heads on fire. That’s when I heard the crack of a page turning. Non-threatening but still sharp and noticeable, I turned my head over my left shoulder, to see the woman, my new owner, curled up on the couch opposite me. Her legs were folded beneath her. Her sketch pad balanced on her knees. She held a steaming mug in her right hand. Every sound, every movement, sent me into a fight or flight response. I was so used to being ambushed out of nowhere. Picked up. Thrown. Pinched. Prodded. Dropped. Out of nowhere. So I couldn’t help it if I was a little skittish around…well, everything.

I suddenly remembered that I was naked, still covered by the blanket of course, but looking at this human woman, I suddenly felt very improper without clothes. I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “Hey, don’t be scared…. Good morning.” Her smile was warm. She put her mug down on some surface I couldn’t see and placed her sketch pad and pencil on the seat beside her. Slowly, as if trying to gain the trust of some frightened wild animal, she slipped off the sofa and crawled over to me. I had to remind myself not to be afraid, but still my pulse quickened. I did my best to stay still and not cower away. Her brow was knit in a sort of compassionate worry.

She was kneeling before me now, the height of my pillow (and me) was about level with her chest, her neck and head still quite a ways above where I lay. She reached out a finger, placing it on my forehead and tracing down my hair to the back of my head and neck. It took all my effort not to flinch instinctively.

“Yeah, you’re alright. Good boy. Sweet boy. You’re doing so well, I know you still need some time to adjust….” The way she spoke to me, if it came from anyone else would sound condescending, insincere. But there was something about the way she cooed at me that felt so genuine and caring that I didn’t mind it. Let her call me all the stupid little names she wanted, she made me feel better when she spoke to me. She continued to touch me, and I worked to consciously relax the muscles where her finger stroked.

“Did you sleep well last night? I know I always have a hard time sleeping in a new place….” I smiled softly, nodding my head. I’d lie to her, why not? She didn’t need to know the memories that kept me bolt upright through much of the night. “It was good. I was very comfortable. Thank you…. Eveline….” That felt fucking weird. Even saying her full name felt wildly informal and inappropriate. That would take a while to get used to. But the way her face lit up when I used it made the effort worth it. She could see I was trying and clearly that made her pretty happy.

Now in the light of the sun, I could really look at her face. Last night had been such a blur of pain and fear that I’d hardly had the time to notice her, really notice her. She looked down at me through big, grey green eyes. She had a slender nose, plump full lips. I noticed a light dusting of freckles over her cheeks and nose. Lastly, my eyes cascaded down a thick, messy braid of chocolate brown hair that completed the frame of her face. Her skin was fair but not pale, she had a rosy color to her lips and cheeks. Her hands and fingers were slight, delicate, very soft. She had a softness and grace about her that was so welcome to me, but I imagined it allowed her to get hurt pretty often by people who had power over her.

She was quite pretty. I wondered absentmindedly if she had a partner… I wondered too if I’d have to listen to or watch them in their most intimate moments as I had been made to do for so long before now. I realized, as I shook off that disgusting thought that she was speaking to me, I perked up my ears and listened…

“So I know you’ve just gotten here and need time to settle but… is that alright with you?” I didn’t want to disappoint her or piss her off, so having no idea what I was agreeing to, I nodded my head. “Okay, perfect! Yay! It’s going to be awesome, I think you’ll really like it!” I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I had a small moment of panic wondering what I just signed on for. In the back of my mind I was still wary, still fearful. I’d known humans to be good liars who could flip on a dime whenever they needed to. Could this owner be the same? Would she be sickly sweet one minute and then threatening to crack my ribs with her knuckles the next?

I shivered, my whole body aching in response. I winced. “Oh! You okay? What’s wrong?” Her face swooped down close, a little too close, concern in her eyes. “I’m okay…. Just… sore…” I croaked out. “Of course you are, now that all the shock has worn off. Of course you are….” She cooed again, picking me up from the makeshift bed and holding me in the palm of her hand. I gasped, cold air rushing… everywhere.

I was very, very naked. I never knew what to do when this happened (which, sadly, was often, in my experience). Sometimes if I tried to cover myself it was seen as cute, other times it would piss humans off and I’d get thumped directly in the place I was trying to conceal. She didn’t seem to care that she was holding, seeing all of me. I supposed that made sense… I was just a companion to her, a toy. Clearly she played with her toys much more gently than my previous owner, but of course she didn’t see anything wrong with me being nude in front of her. I didn’t merit embarrassment. I wasn’t human. Still I squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

“Oh! You poor thing! I forgot you were… I’m, I’m sorry!” Huh. Not what I was expecting. She handed me that same washcloth from last night. I wrapped it around myself. She was strange this one. Unlike any human I’d ever met.

“Speaking of that…. I want to take you shopping. Do you feel like doing that now? Are you hungry?” She was asking if I was hungry? Something else to adjust to. But no, I wasn’t. With so much excitement last night and running on practically no sleep…. I felt being jostled around all day by a human would be better experienced on an empty stomach. I shook my head.

“Well okay, let’s go then!” I guess I was going in this towel? I didn’t have any other choice, but still. She kept me cradled against her upper chest and cupped palm, as she fished for her purse, keys, shoes and headed out the door. I gripped the fabric of her sweater, a warm woolen garment, to keep my balance. When we got to the car, she placed me, towel and all into her cup holder. I sat obediently, the roar of the engine vibrating all around me as we took off. I was pretty used to this. Being taken places, sat down, picked up. Whatever. You get used to building an escape in your mind as your body is puppeted around like some living doll by someone much bigger and stronger than you. I was settling in to go numb and just sit with my thoughts when her voice cut through the noise of the road.

“So, tell me something about yourself, Penn. What’s your favorite color?” I’d never been asked that question before. I had no idea… staring up through the sun roof of the car, trees and clouds flying past a bright blue sky, I blurted out “Blue.” I found it was always better to have an answer to a human’s question than saying ‘I don’t know’.

This conversation felt silly. It felt pointless. Why was she talking to me like I was a person? We both knew very well that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t trying to be cruel was she? I still had to answer whatever she asked me, but it was making me uneasy. When would the punchline come where she would laugh in my face and remind me that I was really no more than a bug she could crush the life out of at any time of her choosing? She asked me other questions: what was my favorite kind of music, my favorite smell, food, movie. I lied for almost all of them. I was grateful when we came to a stop.

“Alright, here we are. You ready, little man?” She raised an eyebrow playfully. I tried to pretend to be excited but inside I was nervous to see what sort of atrocious get ups she would dress me in for fun. I’d only been through this process twice before in my life but I knew enough to know it was going to be painful. I breathed in and out slowly, trying to steady my nerves. She gathered me up by closing a few fingers around my middle, and then placing a cupped hand beneath me to support my weight. She held me against her chest again. I gripped on for balance, and we went in, my body wrapped in nothing but a towel.

This was a pet store, of course. I could smell the stench of other animals, other human companions, as we entered the massive warehouse. People with their dogs on leashes walked by. Dogs were always curious about us. They didn’t like our scent. They scared the shit out of me. Cats were even worse, but I didn’t see any around.

Mice and rats and gerbils, about my size sniffed and scuttled around in glass boxes with wood shavings. I felt grateful at least, to not be living like that. My whole life in a tiny box with no where to go, nothing to see, nothing to do. We walked to the back of the store past the colorful fish in their tanks, to the section… my section. I waited for her to grab something and start pulling it over my head. Instead, she held me up before the rows of tiny clothing, fit for someone like me. We sat there for a while. I wondered if there was some joke that I missed. “Well? You don’t see anything you like?” She sounded disappointed. Oh! Was I supposed to—? She wanted me to pick what I wanted to wear? What was the catch? I turned over my shoulder, my confusion blatant on my face. Something seemed to click and she appeared to understand.

“Oh! Uh, yes, poor little boy, I’m asking you to pick out what you want. I’m not going to make you wear anything you don’t want to. You decide.” And???? I felt nervous. What price would I have to pay for this? I didn’t know. I shopped for a while, just like a human. I tried things on, they fit perfectly. I stood in front of a mirror and looked at myself and everything. She kept encouraging me to get more and more, reminding me that I had to have enough to change outfits regularly and have seasonal clothing.

There she was again, treating me like a human. It made me extremely wary. When I had selected what I felt was more than enough, she picked me up off the shelf and raised me to another one. “Okay, now shoes!” She seemed giddy like a small child, as if she was the one receiving gifts. Why did this make her so happy? This human made no sense to me. I found some really incredible shoes, boots, dress shoes, slippers. You name it. Then we went on to belts, ties, and finally, hats. I picked out a couple of beanies, simple enough. Then stood there with my arms behind my back. This was too much. I felt completely spoiled. “Wait, wait, wait, look at this….” She pinched the brim of a cowboy hat, white with a black band, between her fingers. She plopped it, a little crooked on to my head as I stood in the mirror. I already had on a pair of dark wash jeans, an undershirt and a plaid over shirt which I had rolled at the sleeves, as well as a pair of brown leather boots. “Look at my little cowboy! You’re so cute!” She lifted the hat off my head and kissed my hair before plopping it back. I looked at myself in the mirror…. I looked… stupid…. But it wasn’t my place to disagree with her. She insisted I get a brown felt one as well. I smiled and tried to be just as excited as her. I guess I was her cute little cowboy now…

When we arrived back at her apartment, she insisted on taking off the tags and folding everything for me, batting me away with her finger tips whenever I tried to help. “You need to rest, Penn. I’m happy to do this.” She picked me up by the collar of my new shirt and placed me back down on the pillow. “You. Rest.” She pointed at me commandingly but smiled while she said it so I didn’t think I was in any trouble. I hoped not.

I was a good little pet and did as I was told, watching her fold these embarrassingly tiny articles of clothing. How on earth she folded my socks I had no idea. Eventually, she was all done, and she carried me along with the folded clothes, into her bedroom. I’d never been in here before but I didn’t have much of a chance to look around. She placed me on the surface of her dresser as she opened the first drawer. I jumped a little as the drawer vibrated and shook the wood beneath my feet before opening into this threatening chasm before me.

“Woah, hey you're alright little guy. Didn’t mean to scare you.” I really was a pathetic, frightened little man, wasn’t I? Everything sent fucking chills up my spine. I felt bad that she had to coax and calm me practically every five seconds. She was patient… but for how long? I had to be careful not to anger her.

“See this empty half? This is for you. For now. We will get you furniture that’s your size to store your stuff in soon, I promise.” She placed a finger on my chest, rubbing my pec back and forth, over my heart. She really seemed to enjoy touching me. It was torturous at first, but now, as I was getting more used to it, it seemed sweet. Because she was so much bigger than me, even when we were close there was still this massive distance between us. When she reached out and touched me, that seemed to be her way of closing that distance. Of making our size difference not so significant for just a moment.

“Okay, mister. I think you’ve officially moved in now that you’ve got clothes on your back and a place to store them. What do you think?” I nodded, unsure what she wanted me to say. She plucked me up off the dresser with a thumb and forefinger. I clung to her fingers for support. “You’re alright, little man. I’ve gotcha….” I tried to relax, dangling there, “Well, I think we’re ready for company now. They should be here soon!”

What? My heart pounded in my throat. Company? More people? I broke out in to a cold sweat. Images and memories of the night before last crashing though my skull like breaking waves. I swallowed hard. A room full of humans and one pet was almost never, ever good news. Something always happened.

“Hey little cowboy…. Earth to cowboy….” She was waving in front of my eyes, snapping her fingers. I came to, realizing I was shaking inside her hand. “Woah, little guy, what’s wrong? Why are you so scared? Don’t shake…. Awww, you’re all worked up, aren’t you? Don’t be afraid, it’s okay.” She held me against her shoulder, stroking my head and back as she cooed.

“We talked about it this morning, remember? I told you my friend and some of his band mates were coming over for dinner? You said it’d be okay. Did you just forget and get scared again? Poor little baby… I can call it off if you’re really that afraid of people….” Shit. This was that thing I unknowingly agreed to. Well I couldn’t risk disappointing her, not after everything she’d done for me last night and today. I got myself to stop shaking as I regulated my breathing and brought my pounding heart rate down. She pulled me away from this engulfing hug, holding me before her eyes. “What should I do, Penn? What do you want me to do?” I swallowed hard. I had to be convincing.

“S-sorry, I don’t know- I don’t know what came over me there. Please, please don’t cancel your plans. I’m just fine. I’ll be on my best behavior!” I smiled. That’s what she wanted to hear wasn’t it? She brightened up. Of course! She didn’t want her shiny new toy to embarrass her in front of her friends. She needed to know that I’d behave nicely so she could show me off. Fucking hell. What new misery was bound to come of this?

There was a knock at the door. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…. Right?

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falling-heights · 11 months

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☆ Arthur Morgan ☆ - I gave you all

Pt. 2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“E v e r y t h i n g, i n t i m e--

a l w a y s d y i n g, n e v e r d e a d”

“Leave us," Arthur removed the sweat-stained rag, allowing it to hang from his neck. The vision of a once angelic face, now burdened with sun-aged skin was revealed. As Sean passed him by, he grabbed his arm. He whispered a slew of words, too faint to understand.

"What do you plan on doing?" Arthur only released his grip, and began to unfasten the buttons of his gloves. "Come on, Arthur. I at least deserve to know what you're gonna do with her."

"Just resolving unfinished business," From his coat pocket, he retrieved a cigarette and a lone match. He struck the head against his belt, and you watched the fire illuminate his face.

His eyes had finally gone cold. The little body of fire reflected in his hollowed eyes, surrounding the orange glow with a halo of lurid blue. Hands idly lighting the cigarette and shielding the flame from wind, he stared into you with that sickening gaze.

Sean obeyed without contest. He waited, staring off into the tree line as his men retreated. You watched the Irishman's shadows slowly disappear. And then, just two remained in the forest. The woods, you realized, would be your only witness to what would happen now.

He dragged a long breath from his chest. Embers burned along the end of the cigarette, illuminating his face dimly in the stark night air. He thought for a moment, taking his eyes off of you, until, after taking another drag of his cigarette, he snickered at some strange thought. You always hated when he smoked.

"Not how you expected your night to go, is it, Junebug?" Eventually, once ridden down to a nub, he finished his smoke and crushed it underneath his boots. Once the embers had died and gone dim, his attention shot to you again.

You couldn't say it didn't hurt. Seeing him now, the lack of warmth in his eyes, a sight you still missed despite having such a soiled history.

"Shit, I almost feel bad for you," His ungloved hand reached out, first to run through loose strands of hair that hung over your face. There was something strange about his touch. It was something you'd heard once, that the body can only remember another person's touch for about a year before it forgets the feeling. But this man, it was like the way he felt would remain seared in your mind for lifetimes beyond your own. He was strangely gentle as he cleared away your face. Uncertain and profoundly confused, you did nothing in the moment to stop him, though you couldn't understand his motives.

One hand drifted to your chin, lifting your head just enough to be constraining. You found yourself struggling to calm your breath. Years of distress began to resurface, bubbling in your chest and causing a meek display of terror-induced tears that ran down your face in quick and silent, hot streams. There was some quiet sort of rage, the rekindling of some deep buried emotions that were beginning to resurface in his eyes. The softness of his touch was spoiled by the violence that was written in his gaze.

Nothing could nave truly been worse than this. not only to be at your knees in front of this man, but being so helpless to the sense of grief that consumed you now. How weak you must have looked now, how strange for such a creature as you. A murderer, and thief, and now, in this man's eyes, a traitor. But it was helplessness that left you sniveling at the feet of your enemy.

"But seeing you like this, well..." He dropped your head, his actions vacant of all the gentility that was used just moments before. Another laugh left him, this time pointed directly at you. "It'd be sad if it weren't so fitting."

Nothing was more unnerving than what ideas might be concocting in his head. What would he do, then?

Arthur decidedly pulled out a white, pearl-lined revolver. You knew it well. It had been a gift, after all. And it seemed fitting. That something given should be the same to take. He stared at it for a while. The weapon must have been something of a sentimental token once. Perhaps, it still was. After all, he’s kept it all these years.

"Sometimes, I get to thinking, nights when I can't sleep and nobody's around to hear my thoughts..." He counted bullets within the gun's wheel, then rolled it back into place. His thumb rested on the gun's hammer, but he waited, allowing the sight to settle in your mind. "About seeing you again, some day. A few months after, when your absence was still fresh in everyone's mind, I almost thought about going out to find you myself. For… a long while, nothing seemed better to me than the idea of putting a bullet right here."

Lightly, the barrel of the gun pressed itself in the middle of your head. It seemed, that such a violent fantasy still lingered along his fingertips. They twitched with excitement. He held it there, something toying with his mind. He stared placidly. Though his face bore a numb manner, you knew the sadistic visions that played feverishly in his head. His mind was like a rabid dog in a cage. It was like watching the approach of a hurricane through a large glass window, waiting for the illusion of safety to break.

"But, since you’re here now, you know that didn't happen." He raised the revolver away, however it remained held with a stressed hold. "But things just work like that, I guess. Makes all those years of hiding and running pointless, doesn't it?"

"And now, you're here, just wasting my time," He waved the gun in your direction, and he stepped away for a moment. His voice was shaken, tense, filled with a rage he must have been suppressing for years, waiting for the day that it could finally be let out. He spoke his next words lowly, in a gruff, sort of apathetic tone. "What do you think will happen now?"

"I suppose you'll kill me." The fear for your life was instinctual. Really, you should have died long ago. You, for longer than you'd known, resembled something more of a walking corpse. Something that thought, by lying to itself about what it was, could convince itself it was something else.

"What I do doesn't really make a difference anymore, does it?" He was right. The growing concern of blood loss was leaving you vulnerable. It was apparent now that if you were left untreated for more than a few hours, the possibilities would narrow to one singular decision. "Now, I could just wait. Let time will finish the job for me."

"Why didn't you?" He sat against a nearby trunk and removed his hat. His hair was deeply disheveled, matted to his head from a day's worth of sweat. It was just as easily rejuvenated when he ran a hand through it a few times, revealing thick layers of hair. The gun was set to the ground beside his thigh.

"How do you mean?"

"You could have found me easily. So, why not?" A small, patient smile graced his lips.

"I don't know, Junebug." Hearing that name, though it hurt the first time, hurt worse the second. Knowing how sentimental it had been once, and then hearing it now. Such a stark contrast. "I just kept thinking karma might deal with you on my behalf. Or, maybe a little speck of something thought that maybe I'd see you again. Not like this, but-- well, doesn't matter now, anyways."

"So, what are you waiting on now?"

Sitting there, his eyes never left you. His expression never changed; his grimace remained steady. It was almost as though he hadn’t heard you, but you knew he was thinking.

"A reason, maybe.”

“For why I left?” You. The answer was obvious, but he seemed inept to it.

He opted to remain silent, staring expectantly at you. Of course.

With eyes idly looking downward to the side, your mind lulled to memories you had not wished to relive. A grimace of a dull ire echoed behind your gaze, and haunted your visage.

It was clear he was opting to buy himself more time, a longer chance to consider what he would do now. Perhaps, in his mind, he imagined that he was being merciful. To him, this was your chance to convince him not to kill you.

And if you had any of the slightest intentions to survive this night, you would have to play along.

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