#ignore the typo on the word silhouette thanks

[cbts004]

could you give a tutorial on how you draw/shade water? Its so good the way you draw it

this is as quick + basic as i could describe it! Though in my last illus with the wave in it, i also did dip more extremely into colors as well (some shades of light green and purple were used).

#tutorial #digital painting tutorial #ask #ignore the typo on the word silhouette thanks

[loverofallthingssarah]

Hold me closer

Request: could you write a sick reader and mina takes care of them? maybe the reader insists on going to work but wilhemina doesn't let them? thank you for all your stories! x -from anon

WARNING: none

Word count: 1.2 K

A/N: again sorry for any mistakes or typos and I hope you like it!!

Today was a critical day at Kineros, today was a big pitch for a potential investor, and you and Wilhemina needed to be there, and both of you had to be on your A game. Mina was always the first to wake up and start the morning routine. Her alarm would go off at 5:45, with you following behind her at 6:15, and you both would be out the door by 7:30. Once her alarm sounded, Mina’s first morning ritual was to give you a kiss on the forehead before she got up to go start a pot of coffee. When Mina reaches around and presses her lips to your forehead, she notices you feel a little warm but decides it’s probably nothing. Mina gets out of bed and heads downstairs to make some coffee while she waits for you to wake up.

On any typical day, you would naturally wake up at 6:15 without any kind of alarm. You have always been an early bird and loved starting the day. So when a minute after you usually come down for coffee passed, Mina got worried. You both loved routine and never failed to stick to it. She made her way back upstairs, her cane clicking on the wooden floors. As she rounds the corner to your bedroom, she hears you whimper out. Her eyes connect with your silhouette under the covers, tossing and turning. As she gets closer, she notices you are still asleep, and she sits down on your side on the bed next to you. Mina looks at your face, all scrunched up, and she lays her hand on your forehead. She feels the fever radiating from your body; she instantly knows you are sick. When her hand connects with your face, you stir awake.

“M-mina…,” you start to sit up but instantly get dizzy. Mina guides you back to your pillow. “Little one, you need to take it slow. You have a fever.” Your eyes open wide as you remember what day it is and how important it is to Mina as well as the rest of Kineros. You slowly sit up opposite of Mina and groan as you rub the sleep from your eyes. You notice the heat from your coming from your body, and cold chills surface. Internally you are absolutely pissed with your body and immune system. How can this be happening today? What had you done in a past life to deserve this?

Glancing towards Mina, you can see she has a vacant expression on her face. She is obviously thinking about something. Your mind instantly travels to her, thinking about how much extra work she will have to do to make today run smoothly without you by her side. Which you will not let happen.

“I should get in the shower or *cough* we are going to be *cough* late,” you with sputtering coughs.

Mina looks at you, shocked, “There is absolutely no way you will be leaving this house.”

Ignoring Mina, you scoot past her and head to the bathroom. As you reach the doorway, you stumble a bit from dizziness and grab onto the frame. Mina, always at a pace of two steps behind you, reaches out for you, “Come back to bed, little one.”

You shrug off her hand, “No! *cough* Today is too important.” Moving into the bathroom and heading straight for the shower. As you’re about to reach the shower knob, Mina grabs your hand. She gently tugs your back to the room with her. You want to fight and give her a million reasons you need to be at work today, but you don’t have the energy. Mina guides you into the bed, “I’m going to get ready for work, and when I get out of the bathroom, you better still be in bed. Do you understand?” you nod in a childlike fashion as if being scolded by your mother.

“When I get done, I’m going to set up some food and some medicine for you to take while I’m gone. I expect you to take it, and I’ll make sure my assistant sends you a reminder around lunch.” With that, she disappears into the bathroom and leaves you to your thoughts.

You’ve always known that your girlfriend wasn’t the nurturing type, and you have grown accustomed to that. You loved Mina because of the person she is, and that was a part of it. But there were times you longed for her in a way you couldn’t describe. A part of you was hoping that maybe Mina would want to stay home and take care of you. You knew she would need to be at work, and that was a priority she wouldn’t relinquish for anything, even though you wished she would for you. You just had to be grateful she wanted to leave you some soup and medicine to take while she was away.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, Mina excited the bathroom, completely ready for the day in her lilac power suit. “I am going to set up some soup for lunch and bring you your medicine to lay on the bedside table before I leave.” You nod, and she makes her way out of the room. You slump and wait for her to return.

Downstairs, Mina is getting things together while a worldwind of thoughts swirl in her head. She doesn’t know how she is going to easily be separated from you all day while you are so sick. Mina doesn’t want to let on to you she’s worried, because she has to be at work today. She just has to; that place didn’t run without her. And you, of all people, would understand that.

When she makes her way back to your bedroom, she sees you slumped over, looking like a sad little puppy. She stands in the doorway and contemplates her next move.

You look up and see your beautiful girlfriend. You force a smile despite how awful you feel, “thank you, Mina.” You manage to get out without a coughing fit. She brings over your medicine and sits it on the bedside table, and makes sure she tells you how many to take and what time, as you didn’t already know. You shake your head and giggle.

“Well, I… I should be headed off, little one.” You nod and try to keep a straight face. Despite this, Mina knows you want her to stay. Which makes it ten times harder to leave. She heads to the door and turns around, and waves you bye, “I love you, little one.”

“I love you too, Mina.” and with that, she heads out.

You crawl under the cover and as a tear rolls down your cheek. All you want is to be wrapped in Mina’s warm embrace. You are lost in your thoughts and don’t even notice Mina’s cane getting louder as she makes her way back to your room. Nor do you notice the dip in the bed as she gets under the covers. You only notice Mina’s presence when her arms encircle around your waist.

“M-mina?” you gasp, surprised.

“Shhh, little one. Those idiots better manage a day without me because there is no way I’m leaving your side.” You turn around in her arms, and she notices you start crying.

“What’s wrong, little one? Are you feeling worse? Is there anything I can get you or do for you?” she questions.

“Actually, I feel a lot better,” you smile, “I love you so much, Mina.”

sfw taglist: @orchid-fairy @rainbow-hedgehog @twistedpoeticjustice @kais-rose-garden @peggycarter-steverogers @magnificent-paulsonn @mrsdeanhoward @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @commanderspeach @in-cordelias-coven @lntlmate @sapphicforsarahh

#wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable imagine #mina x reader #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #ahs apocolaypse #wlw imagine

[jordanstrophe]

Be a Good Guest, part 4

**I’m tired, so if there’s typos shh, we don’t see them**

CW: Whump, captivity, punishment belting, glass shard wounds, blood, escape attempt, manhandling, dragging, creepy/parental whumper, restraints, forced to repeat rules

MASTERLIST

Night fell as Gabriel sat on the floor, his arms and head laying against the couch cushions. He held the butter knife tucked against the side of his arm. Walter was off in the house somewhere rustling around, moving furniture, hammering nails, rattling equipment. He didn’t tell him what he was making, but he knew it was for him, a “surprise” he called it. His spine shivered every time he thought about it, his heart was constantly elevated and pounding in his chest. It never seemed to calm down since the car crash. 

He slunk off the couch, sitting next to the hook his leg was shackled to as he wedged the butter knife into the wood gaps. Every time there was a loud banging noise from Walter, Gabriel would use the knife as a lever to slowly pull off splinters of wood, some making an occasional cracking sound. 

A big chuck of wood snapped off, flipping in the air as he flinched back. He already had a few splinters in his hand, he would rather not have one in his eye. He pulled at the metal loop, wiggling it around to see if it could come free yet, to his surprise, he felt a faint pop as one side had come loose. He took an excited shuddering breath, unbelieving that it was finally, finally happening.

He desperately jostled it back and forth, as it let out a high-pitch squeaking noise grinding against the wood. He almost got carried away until he noticed Walter’s hammering had stopped. 

Silence.

Please don’t come out. Of all the times, please don’t come out now.

He heard him scooting furniture around again as he took a sigh of relief.

He forced the hook back and forth until one side popped off. He gasped when adrenaline shot through his body, his hands trembled uncontrollably as he slipped the chain off it. He jumped to his feet, wrapping the chain around his arm as he kept nervously glancing down the hall.

He tiptoed to the door, looking up at the dozens of locks clamping it closed. He tried to unlatch them as slowly as possible, light clattering kept escaping with every move. This was impossible to do silently, but he was so close. He wanted so badly to just rip all the latches open and run, but there was still time to mess this up. 

He froze when he realized the house was silent. Too silent. 

“Gabriel?” A voice called. 

He jumped out of his skin when he heard his name being called. He whirled around in a panic until he grabbed the first thing closest to him, a tiny almost doll-like chair as he hoisted it over his head, staggering over to the window. It’s now or never...

He slammed the chair into the glass as hard as he could, it shattered and crumbled to the floor in fractures. He heard his name being yelled as he threw himself out the window, shards of glass remaining around the window slicing his arms and legs. He was still barefoot, as the dirt beneath him was cold as ice. The grass wasn’t any better as he ran, ignoring the blood running down his arm, the freezing air chilling his skin, the heavy chain still clamped around his leg and around his arm. 

It was dark, he was barely dodging the silhouettes of trees but he could just see the break where the road was where his car had crashed. Sure enough the car was long gone. He climbed the hill about half way till his foot slipped, hitting the ground as the chain fell from his arms. He hesitated, glancing behind him at the chain loosely dragging behind him, but pulled himself back up and kept going.

He gasped when his foot was snagged back, turning around to realize the chain had got caught on a root. 

“Gabriel!”

His voice echoed through the woods not far. But he was so close! His heart sunk when the voice called again, getting closer, he could see a faint light in the distance from his lantern. He scrambled and hid behind a tree, back pressed against the rough bark as he gasped for air. He closed his fingers around his mouth to try and quiet his breathing as he trembled. There was no time to go back and unhook it without being seen, his best chance was to stay out of sight until he hopefully passed. 

He jolted when he heard leaves crunching behind him. He felt his hands were soaked with something as he held it up. Was that blood? But nothing hurt... He shook the thoughts from his head as the crunching got closer. It stopped just a few feet behind him, as silence fell upon the woods. Nothing could be heard aside from the crickets chattering and the owl hooting. 

Gabriel shouted with fear when the chain around his ankle yanked him from behind the tree. He skidded to the ground as Walter continued to drag him all the way down the hill. Walter was muttering and grumbling to himself inaudibly as he worked to pull Gabriel's struggling arms behind him, wrapping the loose chain around his wrists. Gabriel was screaming, crying and whimpering with his face in the dirt. Walter kept him pinned down with his weight until he bent him back off the ground, hoisting him over his shoulder. 

“LET ME GO!” Gabriel screamed from his shoulder, pointlessly squirming around. Walter had both arms wrapped around his thighs to keep his legs still as he carried him home, the chain clanging together with every kick. He was dumped onto the floor, slamming the front door shut behind him as Walter stood over him furiously.

“What do you think you’re doing!? Smashing the window, running off like that! How did you even get the hook off?!” He screamed at him.

“Don’t you ever do that again! You me?! Don’t ev-” His voice was cut off as he looked down as his own hands, dripping with blood. “Wha-?” He whispered, turning his hands as with a puzzled look. He glanced down at Gabriel, who was  helplessly collapsed on the ground at his feet, shaking uncontrollably and panting.

“Oh little one...” He gasped, staring at the bleeding man at his feet, blood pooling down his arm with a glass shard poking out.

“What am I going to do with you.” He sighed, shaking his head with a finger and thumb rubbing on the bridge of his nose. 

“Y-you could... L-let me go?” He rasped, his voice shivering. 

“Oh Gabriel, just look at you! You’re a mess! I took my eyes off you for just a few hours, and this happened! You’re bleeding...” He sighed, dropping to his knees, gently taking his hand in his, turning his arm to assess the damage. 

Gabriel let off a whimper, turning his head to hide his face. Walter was silent for a while, before reaching over to take Gabriel's chin to tilt it up. 

“Little one, this can never happen again. I can’t have you running off like that at every chance you get and hurting yourself! This is why you stay here, safe, with me.” He said, his voice stern full of concern. Gabriel's lip quivered as he only stared up at him with sad fearful eyes. 

“So, as much as I want to say you already got a punishment based on your arms alone, to prevent you from hurting yourself any worse, I’m going to teach you a lesson.” He said, abruptly standing to his feet, grabbing hold of his arm and ripping him to his feet.

“Wha-?” Gabriel squeaked out before he was drug into the basement. His feet fumbling behind him as he was pulled down the stairs. 

“Wait... Wait.. Wait, Wait!!” Gabriel yelled, his gut feeling getting worse, and worse the more he realized what was happening. The room was almost pitch black, as he was thrown to the floor, his knees hitting the cold floor. Nothing could be heard but the echoing of his heavy breathing as his arms were tied in front of him to a beam. 

“Now my first instinct is to bandage you up and toss you in a bath.” His voice spoke as he fumbled with something. “But since you’ll just a liiiitle bit more bloody, I’d rather do this now.” 

“Do what?! What are you doing?” Gabriel cried. He didn’t know why tears were already running down his face. But deep down, he already knew what was going to happen, he just wasn’t ready to admit it. He pressed his face against the beam, sobbing with exhaustion. A small light flickered on above him as he squinted around, Walter was behind him somewhere.

“I want you to repeat back what I say.” He instructed, grabbing Gabriel's shirt to pull it up around his shoulders.

“I-I’m not d-doing anything for you!” He shuttered back, the cold getting to him. 

“I want you to say, I will not run.” 

“You’re craz-!” His words were cut off with a cry as a belt struck his back. He broke into a sob as his body cringed, slowly slinking further to the floor.

“Say it.” He hissed. 

Gabriel was silent for too long as another strike slashed across his back. He cried out as he helplessly twisted his body against the restraints around his wrists. 

“One more chance.” His voice growled. 

“I WILL NOT RUN!” He cried, his voice cracking. Walter smiled, letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“I will behave, and do as I’m told.” He grinned. Gabriel's heart sank, how much more did he want from him? He heard the belt rattle in his hands as he flinched, immediately whimpering “I’ll b-behave and d-d- as I’m t-t-told.” He stuttered. 

He let off another flinch when he heard the belt drop to the ground, his back burning and stinging. The man had a strong arm and didn’t hold back, he would give him that. 

He cried hysterically as he was taken down from the beam, the man cradling him in his arms, stroking his hair and thumbing the blood from his face.

“Was that so hard now?” He cooed. 

“Come on, you’re alright. Let's get you cleaned up and taken care of now.”

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump  @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

#whump #whumpee #whumper #parental whumper #belting tw #whump writing #intimate whumper #possessive whumper

[radioduo]

leave || dsmp become human

word count: 1,142

notes: ayup this is like half a week late but shh that’s okay! it’s here now! this part was interesting to write but i do like it :] anyway, let me know about typos n stuff! @pindl3 i’m pretty sure you’re on post limit but you asked to be tagged :]

first // prev // next

Ranboo threw caution to the wind and flung open the door, heavy drops of water pounding against the ground.

“Hey! Stop where you are!”

The android froze in his tracks. Everything in Ranboo screamed at him to leave right away and not look back. It was as if time slowed down, limbs swimming through molasses as the deviant weighed his options.

X Stop

O Keep running

He steeled himself, heart pounding in his chest, and bolted.

O Keep running

Ranboo didn’t bother slamming the door shut behind him. There was no time to waste. Memories slipped from his mind quickly, and trying to hold on to them was like trying to catch a dust particle in your hands.

Ranboo’s feet thumped against the pavement as he ran through the darkness. He whisked past wooden fences and street lamps, golden light becoming blurred by mist. He didn’t care about where he was running, only that he got as far away from that house as possible. “This isn’t my fault,” he muttered as he came to a slow stop. “It’s not… it's…” he trailed off as he struggled to remember. Shoot, Ranboo thought to himself with a frown. He pulled his hood over his head. I need to find someone who can help.

He wandered around for a while, trying to regain his bearings when he came across a park. Everything was dark and dim behind the chain-link fence, except for a small wooden bench that gleamed under a flickering lamp. Water dripped against plastic playground structures with a calming, rhythmic thrum. Ranboo sighed in relief. Safety at last. He wandered around the perimeter of the park, searching for an entrance, but to no avail. The only way in was shut with a padlock. He would be safe in the park, but was it worth breaking in?

X Give up

O Climb fence

☐ Find different entrance

Δ [LOCKED]

Ranboo hummed in thought. On the one hand, he wanted to find a way in, but on the other hand, he knew nobody would be passing by anytime soon to help him out.

X Give up

With a heavy sigh, he plopped down on a bench outside the playground. He had found a seat that was protected from the downpour and considered his options. He reached to fiddle with his gloves when his breath caught in his throat. They were missing. Ranboo huffed. Just his luck. They were somewhere in the lab, no doubt, probably sitting on a table and cruelly taunting Alan Devon. He grimaced, longing for the comfort that the pieces of slightly too tight fabric brought him. They covered his scars and made him feel… safe. "Safe" was the best word he could think of to describe it.

Ranboo tipped his head back to stare up at the leaves above him. Water rolled off their tips and splashed onto his mask and clothes. He redirected his attention to the other side of the street. One house still had some lights on, although Ranboo couldn’t make out any features of the people inside. They were only silhouettes of people he didn’t, and probably would never, know. The next house over was painted in darkness. It sat still and unmoving, and if Ranboo focused hard enough, he could almost see the shadows dancing across his vision.

Ranboo leaned to one side and was surprised to feel something in his pocket. He reached into his jeans and pulled out the memory chip. He cringed. This must be what people call irony. He stretched behind him and touched the back of his neck. The panel from before opened, and he felt around the gears and wires.

No luck.

Frustrated, he moved to close the panel again when he heard someone approaching him from behind. He threw his hood back on and turned around.

Two people stood behind him. They were both tall, though still shorter than Ranboo, and both wore glasses. One had curly brown hair tucked under a wine-colored beanie, while the other had pink hair tied up in a short, messy ponytail. They stood under an umbrella, shielded from the sky's wrath.

The curly-haired one held out a hand like a child expecting a treat. He met Ranboo’s gaze steadily with practiced indifference. “D’you need some help over there?”

Ranboo eyed them up and down. Something told him they were friendly. With the hesitance of a wild animal, he slowly reached an ungloved hand out to give the coffee-haired stranger his memory chip. “If you don’t mind,” he said sheepishly. “I guess you guys know I’m a-“

“An android?” The pink-haired one finished for him. “We could guess. Most people aren’t able to open up their necks as far as I’m aware.” His tone was dry, but Ranboo could hear the humor in his words. “I’m Technoblade, but you can call me Techno. This is Wilbur,”

The android smiled at Techno, and Ranboo shuffled under the large umbrella. The beanie-clad man pressed open the panel and poked around for a few moments. There was an awkward moment of silence until at last, Ranboo felt a chill run down his spine as his memory card clicked back into place.

Slowly, slowly, one by one, memories and faces came back to him, flooding his mind like a fountain spilling over. He sighed in relief as he found himself able to recall the names and faces of his friends. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something still felt wrong, but Ranboo decided to ignore it for the time being. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Thanks,” Ranboo murmured, giving them a small smile beneath his mask. “But why did you stop to help me? Why didn’t you keep walking as most other people do? I- I thought everyone hated androids.”

Wilbur shrugged. “Guess there’s a special place in my heart for ‘em,” he answered casually. “After all, that’s why we’re out here. Our brother and a deviant ran off together a few hours ago,” he explained, fiddling with a button on his long coat. “You might be able to help us out.”

“If you’re willin’ to, of course,” Techno said. “But we did help you out a little, so I think you owe us.” Upon seeing Ranboo’s doubtful expression, he hastily added, “I’m kiddin’, I’m kiddin’. No pressure.”

Ranboo glanced back and forth between the two of them. “I used to work with the DPD. Deviants and missing person cases are my specialty,” he recalled. “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.”

Wilbur’s face lit up. “That’s completely alright, I just want to let our dad know they’re safe,” he said. “Let’s get out of the rain and find a place to stay. We can tell you more in the morning.”

Relationship: Neutral

#ranboo #wilbur soot #technoblade #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp au #dsmp become human #my writing

[garyofrivia]

For They Shall Be Satisfied

Arthur Morgan x OC


Chapter 4

(masterlist in bio)

A/N: boy howdy, it’s been a minute on this one, huh? i’ve decided to not post this on AO3 anymore due to incredible typos and posting issues that i ran into. also, if you want to check out the other chapters, check my bio/page for the masterlist! i’m pretty sure tumblr is still weird with links in posts so this is likely how i’m going to handle chapter postings from now on. thanks to whoever reads, feel free to lmk what you think! i want to keep this one going for as long as i can... hopefully. Annie is a special one. enjoy <3

Warnings/Categories: Violence, Blood; Angst

(WC: 6,037)

“You boys ready to ride tonight?” Dutch boomed as he slung his saddle over The Count’s back. Annie looked up as she combed out Nero’s tail, studying Dutch as he worked.

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” Davey said, raising his hand in a mock salute while Mac giggled at his brother’s antics. Dutch just winked at the pair of them and carried on with his business.

 Annie and the rest of the gunmen stood around talking for a while, double and triple checking their guns and ammo as they waited for the sun to sink down over the horizon. The temperature would surely drop once night fell, so she slipped on her dark jacket over a black shirt. Even on a ridge, her dark outfit would help her blend into her surroundings once the sun went down. 

They decided to go with the original idea: three groups with three lookouts ready to raise the alarm at any sign of danger. They were to meet Benson and his men at the crossroads and head to the ambush site together. It was strange, being so uneasy about the plan. It was her idea, sure, but it wasn’t a good idea to move on it at all. The sunset caught her eye for a moment, all the orangey-red colors erupting over the Earth as a moment of clarity came over her. She couldn’t be distracted if she wanted this to turn out well. It was a silent promise she made to herself. 

“It’s more beautiful that I’ve seen in a while,” Charles said, joining her at her side as she gazed at the horizon.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen it this red in quite some time.” Annie said, glancing at him as she absentmindedly adjusted the buckles on her saddlebags.

“Supposedly that means we’ll be getting good weather soon.”

“Good weather? Here? That’s likely.”

Charles chuckled lightly and returned his attention to oiling his gun. Annie caught Arthur’s eye as he was saddling Boadicea, strapping the girth as tight as he could. He hadn’t said much to her outside of hesitantly discussing details for the job. He glanced at Charles as he stalked away, and then back at Annie with a new look of tension in his eyes. She watched him angrily jam the buckle into place on his saddle and begin to adjust the rest of his gear. 

“You good, Morgan?” she called.

He didn’t look up to meet her eyes. “Yep. You?”

“Yep.”

“Great.”

Annie nodded and hid a sly smile. Whatever he was upset about, it was something trivial for sure. He wasn’t one to keep his opinions to himself unless it meant he knew it was about  something foolish. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she bit her tongue as she thought of ways she could eventually confront him about his sour mood as of late. 

“What are you laughin’ at, Princess?” Micah drawled, making Annie’s skin crawl.

“I caught a glimpse of your ugly damn face,” she said, eliciting a snicker or two in the background. “Couldn’t quite help myself.”

“Yeah, ha-ha, very funny. You’ll be thinkin’ about my face tonight in your dreams… amongst other things.”

Sean and Charles snapped their heads up in horror to watch what would happen next, but Annie simply chuckled. “You’re right! I’ll be dreamin’ about your face and how twisted it’ll look when I’m skinnin’ you alive.”

Micah laughed. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”

“Micah,” Dutch warned. “You keep provoking her like that, I’ll be tempted to cut her loose on you.”

Annie tauntingly snapped her teeth at him as he stalked away to finish readying up. Dutch shot her a knowing smile and she just shrugged. Even though he was newer to the gang, it was a common thing for Micah to let his mouth run longer than anyone wanted to hear it, especially if it was directed toward Lenny, Charles or any of the women. Annie enjoyed putting him in his place, though admittedly, he figured out how to push her buttons fairly quickly. It was almost admirable. 

By the time the gang had shared cigarettes and a small bite to eat, it was dusk and Dutch called for them to mount up. As they took formation to ride off, Annie nodded to Karen who winked and cocked her shotgun to assume her place guarding camp. “Come back safe, y’all!” 

“Men! Let’s ride!” Dutch bellowed and spurred The Count to a gallop and the wild faces of the Van der Linde Gang cheered and took off after him.  

The thunder of thirteen horses racing across the plains would have been a fearsome sight to anyone. The ground trembled as they moved swiftly up the road in a tight two-by-two formation with Dutch at the head, Hosea and Arthur just behind him, and John and Annie taking up the rear. The rendezvous point was about a forty-minute ride north, though, it felt longer with the building anxiety in the air, no matter how hard Annie tried to ignore it. Arthur and Dutch began exchanging words up ahead, slowing the pace to a steady jog as they neared the location. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” John mumbled, low enough for only her to hear. 

“Yeah,” she said, glancing over to meet his fickle eyes. “Me too. I… Let’s just get it over with.”

John looked nervous, but he nodded in agreement all the same. For a moment, she swore she saw Jack’s face flash before her. John had to stay safe for his son’s sake, if not his own.

Their posse moved at a steady pace down the road and with a glance around at the surrounding landscape, Annie knew they were getting close. Eventually, she heard a familiar whistle from up front. The riders slowed as Benson and a few of his men came into view just ahead on horseback. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Dutch said, riding up next to them.

“Mister Kilgore, so nice to see you again!” Benson said. 

“I believe we can be straight with each other now, Mister Benson,” Dutch said, sliding down from The Count.

Benson sighed, resigning himself to the failure of his ruse. “Yes, I agree, Mister Van der Linde. I trust we can count on each other’s discretion.”

“Glad to see we have an understanding, then.”

“Certainly. Shall we proceed?”

“Of course.”

Annie was surprised to see that he only had three men with him. Though, that’s most likely why his “employer” was seeking the help of outlaws. He tensed when he recognized her, but he managed to smile politely. She tipped her hat and smirked, subtly reminding him that he was outnumbered if he felt the need to try anything.

Dutch confirmed the details of their plan and the diversion with Benson. There was an old abandoned house a few hundred yards off the road from where they would launch the ambush. Benson’s men would blow it up and make sure it caught fire to catch the attention of the escorts that were now all suspected to be lawmen. 

“Lawmen?” Dutch asked suspiciously. “All of them?”

“We have scouts along the route,” Benson said. “In Van Horne, they traded their hired guns for deputies. Not to worry, this shouldn’t change a thing. In fact, we can use this to our advantage. Deputies will be more inclined to answer a call for help along their journey. It will work.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that it’ll work,” Dutch said. “I’m sure everything will go according to plan.”

“Indeed, Mister Van der Linde, it shall.”

“What my friend here is too polite to say,” Annie said and cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention to her, “is that if it don’t go according to plan, you’ll be the first one we come lookin’ for.”

Dutch turned back to Benson and clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s right, I am too polite to say it. But we have… an understanding. So surely that is not a situation that we will come across.” 

Benson avoided her eyes and cleared his throat. “I assure you, I anticipate this to go off without a hitch. I know you all to be true to your word.”

Dutch laughed and mounted his horse. “Yes, that we are, my friend. Let’s get this show on the road, then! Shall we?”

“Alright, everyone split off,” Arthur said. “Mac, Bill, Hosea, Javier you’re with me. John, Lenny, and Davey, you’ll go with Dutch and Charles, Sean, and Micah are with Annie.”

“Cream of the crop,” Micah grumbled to himself but loud enough for everyone to hear. Annie glared at him as he rode over to join her, Sean and Charles not far behind. “Who organized these damn groups, anyways?”

“I did,” Annie deadpanned. She wanted to keep an eye on the loose cannon of the crew and Hosea had been more than happy to let her take that responsibility.

“Aw, you really are sweet on me, ain’t ya?” he winked at her.

Charles groaned and Sean chuckled. “Last person she’d be sweet on is you, ya ol’ sack o’ shit.”

Annie chuckled quietly. She always had a fondness for Sean and his lack of a social filter. Silently, she motioned for her counterparts to follow and started off to the top of the northernmost hill.

“Watch for Hosea’s signal,” Annie said. They could see the silhouettes of the men on the opposite ridge illuminated in the moonlight, one of them waving. She waved back to confirm they were in view.

“This could take a while,” Sean groaned.

“Yes, and you’d do well to keep quiet,” Charles said. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Ambush, or whatever. That Benson fella seems a bit curious, don’t ya think?” 

“Shut up, Sean,” Annie said. 

“I’m jus’ sayin’.”

“Hmm, I agree,” Charles added. “He was a bit fidgety. This could turn out to be more than it seems.”

“I’m countin’ on it,” Annie mumbled. 

“That why it took so damn long for you fools to jump on this thing?” Micah asked.

“Shut your damn mouth and focus, idiot,” she snapped, shooting him a glare that could kill. 

They finally fell silent and Annie turned her attention to the horizon where the house was set to blow. Any minute, they would be coming up on the horizon...

There they are. About a mile off, she saw the first of the riders pull into view, illuminated by their lantern lights. She counted six escorts and four wagons. Hosea waved his hat and she returned the gesture and while Lenny was out of view, she prayed he saw him. 

“Here we go,” she said. “Masks up.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ ready,” Sean said, bouncing in his saddle. 

Waiting for them to get in range seemed as if it took forever. Annie’s heart quickened with each passing moment, filling her with anxiety where there’d usually be adrenaline. The seconds ticked by excruciatingly slow, yet so incredibly fast. She could feel the tidal wave of chaos building and building, waiting to crash down into the gully at any second. 

Hosea and he gave the first signal to Benson’s men, waving his white handkerchief. Within a few seconds, there was a massive explosion on the ridge behind him. The fire was quick to start, illuminating their silhouettes against the night sky with a haunting orange glow. Annie heard voices, Benson’s men, calling for “help”. The caravan stopped in its tracks and all but one rider took off immediately. She was almost shocked that it worked.

Hosea waved the rag in the air once more. Show time. 

Annie sucked in a breath. “You’re up, boys. Get goin’.”

Micah, Sean, and Charles raced down the hill to meet the rest of their Van der Linde counterparts and Annie whipped out her sniper rifle. She’d removed the scope since it would just limit her visibility in the darkness of the new moon - It’s a trick she learned while hunting at night, even though it was far more difficult to hit a shot without the proper sights for most everyone. But she wasn’t most everyone.

The fire in the background illuminated the scene ever so slightly as the horizon glowed like an inferno. She scanned the terrain, alternating between her binoculars and bare eyes, looking for any sign of movement. They were clear for now, so long as they worked fast. 

She kept on looking up and down the road and back at the gang. At the hills. Towards the horizon. Nothing. It seemed too good to be true. Surely someone would have heard the blast and would come to investigate. How much time had passed? It felt like it’d been an eternity.

The sound of snapping twigs behind her nearly made her jump out of her own skin. She whipped around, frantically shoving the bolt action of the rifle into place and bringing her grip up to aim.

“Who’s there?” she demanded a bit too loudly.

“Don’t shoot,” a familiar voice said softly. 

“What the hell?” Madelyn. 

The girl stepped into view from behind a tree. Her hands were raised in surrender and her fingers were trembling in fear. Even though Annie could barely see her face, it was certain that she was terrified out of her mind. 

“Give me one goddamn reason I shouldn’t shoot you right here,” Annie threatened in a low voice.

“They’re comin’. The O’Driscolls, t-they know about the job.”

“What?”

“They… took me… and I-I was-. They’re comin’. You gotta get outta here. They wanna kill the lot of ya.”

“Why should I listen to you?”

She seemed exasperated and desperate as she spoke.“Why the hell else would I come up to you like this? I ain’t got no gun. I’m just tryin’a help.”

Annie thought for a split second. She was right, but nevertheless. this could be a ploy. Though, then there’d be no way Colm would ever pass up an opportunity for 10,000 dollars to risk sending someone to warn them as a distraction.

Annie made a split second decision, one that likely saved the lives of everyone in the Van Der Linde gang that night. She barely noticed Madelyn flinch as she swiftly traded her rifle for her revolver. She turned her aim to the sky and fired three times. She turned toward the road to make sure the boys were preparing to make their escape.

When a few moments passed, her stomach started to churn. No one was leaving. She heard someone shout but couldn’t make out who or what they said. She looked up to where Hosea should have been, but he was sprinting down the hill on horseback. She jumped into action, leaving Madelyn in the dust.

“What the hell is going on?” She heard Hosea yell as she rode up. “You heard the signal! We need to move!”

“We’re almost… finished,” Dutch panted as he slung the first saddlebag full of cash onto his shoulder. 

“What is it, Annie?” Charles asked uneasily. “Why’d you sound it off?”

“It’s Colm,” she breathed. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. “He’s here.”

“Goddamnit!” Arthur cursed, kicking the wheel of a wagon. “That English bastard set us up.” “You seen ‘em yourself?” Micah said.

“That girl from the saloon found us and warned me. We gotta get outta here, now.”

“Annie, you can’t be serious,” Dutch said.

“Dutch, we don’t have time for this,” Annie said. “Why would she risk tellin’ me if it weren’t honest?”

“We stick to the plan,” Hosea declared, before Dutch could protest. “Split up everyone, and meet back at camp. C’mon!” He kicked his horse to a sprint. Lenny immediately followed, while Charles, Davey, and Mac swung up on their horses and chased after them. Javier hesitated, looking between them and Dutch, but eventually decided to take off.

“Damn it! We were so close,” Dutch said. He went to swing the saddlebag over his horse’s back, but a shot suddenly rang out through the pass. The bag exploded next to Dutch’s head, sending cash and coins flying in every direction. The Count reared, neighing loudly. Nero, as steady as he usually was, had also been spooked and started to pace. Annie tried to calm him as she turned and saw a horde indistinguishable silhouettes swarming the road from the west. 

“Go, get outta here! Now!” Annie cried.

The remaining members of the gang jumped onto their horse’s back and took off in the opposite direction. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Boadicea carried Arthur down the dark road. Everyone was in the clear. Wait… Not everyone. 

Annie raced back up the hill. She didn’t know what came over her, but she knew she had to help Madelyn. If the O’Driscoll boys found her after she helped them, they’d most definitely kill her. Or worse.

She halted next to Madelyn and reached down with a steady hand. “Get on.”

“What? Why are you helping me?”

“Christ sake, get on the horse or get killed, I don’t rightly care.”

Madelyn nodded and hastily hoisted herself into the saddle behind Annie. She kicked Nero to a gallop and they started to make their retreat.

A shot rang out.

Annie cried out in pain and involuntarily kicked Nero’s side, making him skid into a sharp left turn. She toppled off his back and hit the ground with a thud, rolling clumsily to a stop, face down in the dirt. An indescribable pain overtook her body and her worst fear had been realized.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m hit!”

Madelyn yelped and struggled to stay stop Nero’s back, but she gripped the reins so he would stop pacing nervously. “Shit! Are you okay?”

Annie ignored her and struggled to her feet, clutching her side where the bullet had torn apart her flesh - in through her back and out the other side. Warm blood was quickly soaking the inside of her shirt and started to pool where it was tucked into her pants. This ain’t good. This ain’t good, at all. She poked a finger through the hole in her jacket and groaned.

“Damn it, this is my favorite one,” she muttered. Her vision narrowed and everything suddenly seemed slower as the adrenaline started to kick in. 

“What do we do?” 

“You know how to ride a horse?”

“Y-yes.”

“Help me up, then.”

Maddie shifted her position into the saddle and held out a hand for Annie. She sucked in a breath and lifted herself onto her horse’s back, grunting as she held back a scream of agony. Her abdominal muscles were shredded just below her rib cage and she silently prayed that nothing important was harmed.

“Jesus Christ,” she growled through gritted teeth. They were chattering with the tension in the rest of her body, her mind getting blurrier with each wave of adrenaline being pumped through her veins. “Go that way ‘till you hit the river. Don’t stop.”

Doing as she was told, Madelyn urged Nero to a sprint and Annie clutched her side, trying to keep the bleeding to a minimum and to keep her balance on horseback without stirrups. 

She took a breath and clenched her jaw. In a flash of urgency, she turned behind her and fired in the direction of the pursuing O’Driscolls, managing to tag one on the shoulder and knock him off balance. Aiming as steadily as she could, she fired again and brought him to the ground. She snapped her sights on the next target like she was aiming down a long tunnel. All she could hear was the sound of her own gun as it went off in her hand again and again. 

BANG. BANG. Click. Reload.

Frantically, she grabbed six rounds from her belt and shoved them into the cylinder as fast as her fingers could manage. The pain - or maybe the blood loss - was blinding. Her vision was fading, slowly… and then quickly, in and out. One more shot. One more. 

One more… Another rider toppled off their horse as she found her mark.

“Keep goin’,” she grunted as Nero started to slow his pace. They’d been running for a while and he wasn’t used to carrying two passengers. 

C’mon boy. You can do it. She started to fire blindly to cover their backs, again and again. Her hands were shaky and slick with blood. Fumbling a bit more with her gun, gasping and grunting through gritted teeth, a few rounds slipped from her fingers as she reloaded. Focus. Focus, focus, focus… Feeling more and more unsteady, she gripped the saddle and tried to regain balance. 

“You alright back there? Annie?”

She shook herself to consciousness. “They still chasin’ us?”

“No, they’re gone. I think you scared ‘em off.”

Annie tried opening her eyes, but she couldn’t even lift her forehead off Madelyn’s shoulder. “Keep… goin’.”

Each stride her horse took was a dull stab of agony. The constant movement was ripping apart each attempt her body was making to stop the bleeding. She didn’t even realized she’d fallen until she slammed into the ground like a sack of grain. It was a haze. The stars in the night sky swirled around her as if she was at the bottom of a tornado, looking up into the spiraling whirlwind of chaos.

“Annie! Shit!”

“Bedroll…”

“What-.”

“Bedroll. Get it… and a shirt… in the saddlebag.”

Madelyn did as she was told and retrieved the bedroll and extra shirt. She and spread the roll out and tried to help her move on top of it, but she swatted her hands away. Grunting, Annie took out her hunting knife and managed to cut out a long strip of the padded canvas, slicing it in half, working with her eyes half open and her whole world spinning.

“I can do this,” Madelyn said, trying to take the knife from her.

“No just-,” Annie groaned. “Help me patch it up.”

The blood on her black shirt made it look like an oil slick, as if she was an automobile leaking fuel. Maddie lifted it and there was a flood of red. It stuck to her fingers like tree sap, thickening every time she touched the fresher blood that oozed from the wound. She carefully placed the canvas padding on the dime sized opening in Annie’s abdomen. It was a scary thing that something so small could cause so much trouble.

“I’m going to roll over,” Annie mumbled, “and you need to get the other one on my back.”

Madelyn nodded and gulped, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She inhaled sharply and heaved herself off the ground, crying out as her weight shifted. Maddie helped her shed her jacket and pressed the second square into place, holding them together as if Annie would crumble into pieces if she let go.

“The shirt…” She tried to speak, but Madelyn was already tying the patches in place with by the sleeves. Annie had lost so much blood already, that she was starting to see in distorted colors. Red. So much red. It consumed everything, as if the earth had been swallowed by it. She knew she didn’t have long.

“Go on, get out of here,” Annie breathed. “I can’t…”

“No, no, no, we didn’t spend all that time patchin’ you up just for you to give up.”

“You can’t... lift me.”

“You’re gonna have to help me, then. C’mon.” She put Annie’s arm over her shoulders and snaked her own around her waist, careful to not put pressure on the patches. “One, two, three!”

Annie cried out as she stood, unable to form a coherent, thought let alone see anything beyond a few inches in front of her own face. Another round of adrenaline must have kicked in and she somehow made it onto the saddle, grasping onto the horn for dear life. Madelyn mounted behind her and put her arms around Annie, holding the reins out in front in case she fell again. She put her feet in the stirrups and peered over Annie’s shoulder, getting a clear view of the path ahead.

“Stay awake now, ya hear?”

Annie struggled against entering into a state of delirium. Trying to ground herself in reality, she realized something was missing… My hat! She groaned and let her head fall back against Madelyn’s shoulder. Madelyn… How kind…

“Annie! C’mon, stay with me.”

Annie ignored her panicked voice and said the only thing that came to mind. “Your name ain’t really ‘Madelyn’, is it?”

“No. It ain’t”

“What is it… then?”

“Jenny. Jenny Kirk.”

***

Arthur tapped his foot in anticipation as Dutch paced between the fire and the camp entrance. After everyone had split up, all but Charles, Javier, and Annie had made it back safe. It was risky returning to camp this early after a job gone bad, but they hadn’t been followed. Arthur figured that must have been what was holding up the rest of them.  

“Damn it, Dutch, we had a plan,” Hosea said as he massaged his temple. “Why’d you pull that shit back there?”

“Pull what exactly, Hosea?” Dutch said, whipping around to face him. Arthur had been listening to them go at it since they returned. “You need to calm down, my friend. Everyone here is capable of handling themselves.”

“Dutch, he’s right,” Arthur interjected. “We knew Benson wasn’t trustworthy. It ain’t a matter of how well we can handle ourselves, cause that wasn’t no gunfight. It was a setup, plain as day.”

Dutch shook his head. “We needed that money, boys. If you’re not prepared to take a little risk for that, then I don’t know what to tell you!” 

“It already was a risk!” Hosea said, exasperated. “That’s why we needed to stick to the plan.”

Dutch threw his arms up in defeat. “Well, it failed anyways, so why are we still arguin’ about this?”

The rest of the camp had gathered outside their tents to see what all the commotion was about. “What happened, Arthur?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling his attention away from the two men arguing. 

“Just a job gone bad.”

“So no money?” Karen asked. 

“Only a bit. Not nearly as much as we were countin’ on.”

Tilly joined them. “Have y’all seen Charles yet? Or Javier and Annie?”

Arthur looked through the trees and caught a glimpse of the empty road. “Not yet.”

“I hope they’re alright,” Mary-Beth said.

“I’m sure everything’s fine, Mary-Beth,” Tilly assured her, but her voice wavered enough for Arthur to tell she wasn’t entirely sure of her own words. 

Just ask she said it, two riders appeared on the road and made their way through the trees. Charles and Javier. 

“Boys!” Dutch called. “Good to see you back.”

“Sorry we’re the last ones to the party,” Javier said. 

There was a pause and the air grew tense. 

“You mean Annie ain’t with you two?” Karen said.

“No,” Charles said. “She’s not back yet?”

“We ain’t seen her, but I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Dutch said.

“That’s it, I’m goin’ after her,” Arthur stated, starting for his horse.

“Are you jokin’?” Dutch said, raising an eyebrow and stopping Arthur in his tracks. “O’Driscolls and lawmen are crawling all over these parts.”

“She’d do it for one of us,” Charles said. He nodded at Arthur. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, no, I need you both here,” Dutch said. 

“He’s right, boys,” Hosea said. Arthur glared at him. “We can’t risk any other wild adventures tonight. She’s capable, she’ll make it back in one piece.”

Arthur let out a sharp exhale and eyed the two of them, unable to think through his own rage. Annie was capable, sure, but this didn’t feel right. Dutch had screwed her, screwed them all. He told them to keep on with the robbery when she gave the signal. If they’d just listened to her signal...

The energy of the camp rippled, voices murmuring around Arthur, wondering where Annie had gone. The atmosphere was growing thicker with tension and the anxiety welling in his chest made it so he could hardly breath. He couldn’t take it anymore. Just as he turned away to get some air, he saw something down the hill, across the river. A single black horse with two riders. Holy shit…

“Hello?” a small, female voice called out, just barely over the sound of the rapids upstream. 

“Who’s that?” Dutch bellowed as Charles drew his rifle to his shoulder.

“It’s Nero…” Hosea said, his voice flooded with concern.

Arthur ran over to the ridge to get a clearer look. The black stallion was breathing heavily, glistening in sweat as he bowed his head in exhaustion. 

“M-my name’s Jenny. Annie’s here with me, but she’s hurt real bad.”

“No, Arthur, wait!” Dutch said, trying to grab Arthur’s shoulder as he rushed forward. He shook the hand off and took off down the hill to the riverbank. 

“Can you get him across?” he said, trying his best to hide the dread in his voice as he saw the limp body, slumped against the stranger’s chest.

Nero didn’t hesitate as he crossed the water, even though it was somewhat deep. The horse plowed through the flowing water and onto shore, almost as smoothly as if he was on land.

Annie was unconscious and the blood on her shirt glistened in the dim light of the distant campfire. Her face was white as a sheet and covered in a cold sweat. “Charles! Could use your help here!” 

He heard Hosea call Grimshaw for assistance as John and Charles came rushing down the hill. They took in the sight of the wounded woman, speechless. 

“Arthur?” Annie murmured, reaching out her hand to touch what she didn’t think could be real. “That you?”

“It’s me, alright.” He took her bloody fingers in his hand and squeezed. 

“Damn it, I’ve died and gone to hell,” Annie said, a hint of a mischievous smirk on her face. 

He smiled and shook his head. “No, not quite yet, Annie girl.” 

Even though she was dressed in black, the slick stain of blood covered most of the right side of her body, from her ribcage to her thighs. Streaks of red matted stray hairs against her forehead, mixed with the tear marks on her cheeks and the sweat on her neck. He wanted to say he’d seen worse, and he probably had. But this, for some reason, shook him to the core. 

He lifted her off the back of the horse and cradled her in his arms. She wasn’t light and his front was now soaked in blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Charles, hitch her horse at the posts, make sure he’s watered.”

“What about her?” John asked, gesturing to Jenny who was covered in blood herself.

“You, Miss Jenny, are with us now,” Dutch said, walking down to join them on the riverbank. “Go wash up, Miss Jones here will help you. You can have Annie’s spot until we find you a place.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jenny said with a breath of relief.

“‘Sir’ was my father,” he said. “You can call me Dutch.”

Arthur brought Annie up the hill as most of the camp watched. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but at least she was alive. He gently laid her down on his own cot, making sure she was comfortable. She winced and her eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Step back, Arthur,” Grimshaw said, pushing her way into the small area, fresh bandages in hand. She replaced the bedroll patches slowly but securely, cleaning the wounds with what Arthur figured was gin as she worked.

“Ahh!” Annie yelped as the alcohol splashed into the open wound. “Huh. Nice to see you, Susan.”

“You too Annie, you lucky, lucky girl,” Grimshaw said. “Can I use your jacket, Mister Morgan? And will you give us some privacy?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He said, shedding his coat and handing it over and turning away as Grimshaw carefully removed Annie’s tattered and stained shirt. She covered her so that only she could see as she wiped away the blood from the wounds with a wet cloth.

“Tilly, can you get one of Miss Bolton’s shirts from her things, preferably a light one?”

“Is she gonna be okay, Miss Grimshaw?” Mary-Beth asked with a look of horror on her face.

“Yes, Mary-Beth, she’s gonna be just fine.”

He saw her nod and bring a hand to her mouth, holding back a sob. The rest of camp was watching, but keeping their distance. He saw John say something to Abigail as she tried to walk over to help. She protested for a moment, but he pulled her into a small hug and shuffled her and Jack back into their tent. The suspense had settled since she was back and more or less in one piece, but Arthur’s own fists were clenched with anxiety. 

“Arthur,” Dutch called, snapping his attention away from the scene. He and Hosea were standing back, trying to keep everyone from crowding around the lean-to. 

Arthur sighed with frustration and walked over. “What is it, Dutch?”

“You alright, son?” Hosea asked. 

“Yep.”

“Arthur…” Dutch said, studying him.

“I’m good.”

“She’s gonna pull through.”

“Yeah, I know.” The shakiness of his voice was hard to disguise. “She knew it was a damn trap, too.”

Hosea furrowed his eyebrows, giving him concerned look he hadn’t gotten in a while. “We can get you a bedroll. You can sleep in the-.”

“I’m good,” he said, cutting him off. “I got the chair.”

“Arthur-,” Dutch started.

“I know what my goddamn name is, Dutch, quit sayin’ it,” he snapped.

Dutch sighed and raised an eyebrow. “I was just gonna tell you to keep an eye on her for the night. That’s all. Make sure you get some rest.”

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, lifting his hat slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Dutch squeezed his shoulder and sent him back to Annie’s bedside. Grimshaw finished with the buttons on the fresh shirt and stepped back.

“I can keep an eye on her, Miss Grimshaw.”

“Thank you, Arthur. When you can, try to get her on her side, she won’t listen to me. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” he said. He suddenly recognized the white button up Annie now had on. “Hey, is that my shirt?”

“Yes,” Tilly said as she balled up a few bloodied rags to be washed. “I couldn’t find any clean light ones of hers, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and forced a small smile. “No, Tilly, it’s fine. Thanks. Get some sleep, I’ll take it from here.”

Tilly nodded and took her leave. Arthur turned back to Annie, hesitantly. Her eyes were closed but she had a slight grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. He reached down to the end of the bed and pulled the thin wool blanket up to her shoulders.

“They put me in your shirt?” she mumbled, eyes still closed. “You’ll have to burn it now, surely.”

“Do you ever stop jokin’?”

“Only when there’s nothin’ to joke about.”

Arthur chuckled. When this had happened before, she almost didn’t make it. It was terrifying to watch her fight against seemingly unbeatable odds. But nevertheless, she fought hard and won. He feared she wouldn’t be so lucky this time around. He felt a sudden urge to take her hand. Like his, it was calloused and rough, but smaller and somehow more delicate. He held it gently and she absentmindedly squeezed one of his fingers. 

She met his gaze and for a moment, Arthur saw the same sadness reflected in her cloudy, hazel eyes that had always been in his own. In a strange way, it was comforting to him. To know that he was just as afraid as she was, to know that the path ahead of her could prove to be treacherous. It meant she still was still breathing, her heart still pumping. It meant she had a chance. In that moment, somehow, they both knew everything would be okay. 

“Get some rest,” he whispered.

She grinned and her eyes blinked closed. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

#rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfic #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x oc #rdr oc #my OC #my fics #annie bolton #for they shall be satisfied #ftsbs

[jungnoir]

lullaby;

lee jeno | you share a moment with jeno in the moonlight. boyfriend!au. | 2.6k words. | insufferable fluff and head swirling kissing.

a/n: inspired by this edit on twitter for jeno’s bday ;-;

“I can’t sleep,” a soft mutter against the base of your neck wakes you from your doze and a lick of irritation plays at the back of your throat in the form of a growl, one that rumbles just loud enough into the night for your boyfriend to hear and then laugh at, “sorry, I thought you were still awake too.”

You turn your head, forcing Jeno to move his face back so that you two could look each other in the eye. Your arms are thrown out on either side of you: one is stuffed underneath the pillow your head currently rests on and the other is going numb under the weight of Jeno’s head. He lays, curled up into your body like a child to a pillow, long fingers clutching some part of you to him in the dark. As far as you knew, Jeno hadn’t moved at all while you “slept”. Sleep wasn’t as good of a descriptor when one was going in and out with every new topic their boyfriend brought up next. He was never quite this talkative usually. You claimed he was a moon child and that’s what brought it out of him so late at night. “If I was awake, I’d be talking to you.”

Jeno takes no offense to your brisk tone, simply beaming under the moonlight he insisted you crack your blinds open to let flood your room. “Good thing you’re awake now.”

Is it? You think quietly, blinking hard and long to rouse yourself. You’d gotten a power nap’s time in so you weren’t at a total loss. Attempting to move the arm Jeno occupied, you find it tingling with the first movement it had seen in the last hour or so. Jeno notices and sits up slowly, “Is your arm numb?”

“Yeah, thanks to your big head,” despite your sleepiness, you crack a smile at him and feel his fingers pinch the skin of your stomach in retaliation, “I’ll live.” You drag your arm to yourself and resist the urge to roll over and try to fall back asleep again. You know full well if you try he’ll surely wake you again, but the thought is tempting. You don’t know what time it is at all; the moon can only tell you so much.

You feel the weight shift around you and Jeno’s silhouette looks imposing in the darkness like this, but you know better. You feel nothing but safe and warm when Jeno is near.

You feel him beginning to straddle you as you reach for your phone on the nightstand where you left it, fingers expertly grasping at the edges and bringing it to your face. The brightness that hits you makes you grunt in distaste and another of Jeno’s laughs ring out in the silence. You turn the phone around to shine the light in his face in retaliation and grin when he winces, quickly pushing an arm up in front of his eyes for defense. You resist the urge to tease him any further, knowing that with where he’s positioned and experience with countless moments like this very one before, tickling is not out of the question.

You finally see the time, a bold 12:07 reading back to you along with a list of notifications underneath it. Most are messages you have yet to answer, others being the occasional notifications you ignored on a daily basis. Sliding one message across, you begin to answer it.

“Who are you texting?” Jeno asks lazily, dropping his head on your chest as you comfortably maneuver your arms to rest on his back, phone held high enough to see over his bedhead. His question is not invasive or demanding and you can tell he just wants to talk, but there’s a bit of something pouty in his tone that makes you stifle a snicker when answering.

“Some friends of mine.” You answer back vaguely.

You feel Jeno hum against you, arms resting at your sides idly. You’re still tapping away, texting your friends who you’re not surprised are still awake on a Friday night like this. They weren’t upset at you for going AWOL after Jeno had sneaked his way into your house at sundown, mere minutes after your parents peeled out of the driveway to head to a family friend’s party. You knew they would be out all night when you called Jeno to come by. You could even hear the obnoxious little bell on his bicycle ringing its way down the street to your house before he even reached the driveway.

Your parents didn’t mind Jeno being around late, but this was when they were present in the house. Jeno, being the gentleman he was, never overstepped his boundaries... unless you were involved. You had quite the way with words and had convinced him more times than he was proud to admit to stay a little later than usual. If you were lucky, one of your parents would text you saying they both got a little tipsy and would stay the night. It wouldn’t bother you one bit to be alone here with Jeno until the next morning. And, what with Jaemin keeping up the “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, Jeno is staying the night with me” act, you two were in the clear.

Jeno was also incredibly easy to predict: after he ended up insisting he leave, he would make his way to Jaemin’s house for real and game his heart away until the next morning when he inevitably woke you up with a good morning text chock-full of typos. Even sluggishly, he tried his best to be the romantic one.

Tonight, however, you wished he’d stay forever.

It wasn’t that you had trouble sleeping without Jeno. In fact, you slept perfectly fine on your own and had been doing so for the last eighteen years of your life. There was just something about sleeping next to Jeno that took the cake though; maybe it was his need to comb his hands through your hair, fingers gently scratching at your scalp in the most delicious way and leaving you like putty in his arms. Maybe it was the way his body was never too warm or too hot, always comfortable to sleep up against no matter the season. And maybe it was the fact that no matter what, Jeno would always send you off to sleep with a kiss. His kisses left you lightheaded and sent you into dreams of him, and those always made you rest easy.

You were both still young, the relationship much younger, but Jeno felt timeless. The moment he entered your life in ninth grade felt like he’d been there since birth. His soul fit yours almost perfectly, and while there were still cracks and openings, those were things you didn’t mind working on if it meant to be filled with the rest of him.

You never felt pressured with Jeno, never shy. You just felt his overwhelming warmth and the invite to take it slowly.

You must’ve gotten lost in your thoughts of Jeno because you feel the boy rustle in your hold, resting his chin on your chest and blinking up at you under the dim light of your phone, “Moonlight, you still with me?”

You quickly focus on him, flustered by the nickname, and your phone falls and hits Jeno on the head.

His little groan of pain instantly awakens your protective instincts, your hands flying to the back of his head to cradle it. “Oh, Jeno! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Jeno, the good sport he always is, tries to smile through the pain but retrieves your phone from between you where it had fallen and tosses it to the side of you as if to say “take that”. “‘s okay... nothing a kiss can’t fix.”

You let out a little breath of surprise at how quickly he recovers from his pain, already pushing himself up on his elbows and puckering his lips for you to “kiss it all better”. You stare at him flabbergasted, a laugh escaping you at the same time. Poking the middle of his forehead with your finger, he hisses and his lips fall flat again. “Shouldn’t I kiss your head? Not your lips? If I recall, I didn’t hit those.”

“Kisses anywhere work all the same! It’s the thought that counts the most, you know?” He tries to reason with you, scooting closer again. “Please?”

You blame it on how sleepy you are and how in the low light of the room, his pouting expression makes your heart tug in far too many directions to be healthy. You also blame it on the fact that his kisses were a bit of an obsession of yours and you’d be a fool to pass him up when he’s being so brazen (or more brazen than Lee Jeno could normally get).

Hands on his back, you encourage him to meet your lips with his own.

You find it endearing every time Jeno hums in appreciation for your affection. You can feel his lips turning up in a smile but he fights it as best as he can, wanting to savor your kiss for as long as he’s able. When he first shared a kiss with you, he was never so bold as to smile or laugh or do anything but make sure he did everything right. It took him time to realize that that wasn’t what kissing was, nor was any other form of affection. Truthfully, the execution didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to mean something.

Now, when he bumped your arms when going in for a hug or knocked heads in a rush to kiss you hello, he didn’t cringe or withdraw from you. He would smile, giggle, let you watch his eyes disappear as he’d mutter something like a very unapologetic apology before going right back in to do it right the next time.

His kisses had become somewhat bold too; while he still always asked for your permission and never tried to go for longer even if he really wanted to (you had to catch your breaths at some point, of course), he’d come to enjoy the fun that kissing could be instead of the sweaty palms and racing heartbeats. Those still occurred, but only in moderation.

You could feel Jeno beginning to get into it, his hands finding your elbows. Gently, he arches his back and pulls at your elbows, so you let your hands fall from where they once rested underneath his shoulder blades. He has to pull away for just one moment, catching your curious eyes with his own for a second before taking both your hands and linking his fingers with yours. Then, he presses your hands into the mattress above your head and swoops back in to kiss you. He’s a little braver this time around, already making you light-headed. You swear your body has got the consistency of pudding at this point.

You’re really almost down and out, feeling the kiss take over nearly ever bit of your attention, when you’re startled by a vibration near your head. Your phone!

Not even thinking about it, you detach your lips from Jeno’s to look to the side of you, unable to tell what your phone had vibrated for with the screen facing down. Your split-second reaction makes Jeno laugh and then whine, his mouth still very close to yours after having chased it when you moved. “I can’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckle, wiggling your hands in his hold and feeling your amusement rise when he refuses to let you reach for your device, “you’re not gonna let me check it at least?”

He stubbornly shakes his head, trying to go in for another kiss. You decide to ignore your phone for now and indulge him once more, your mind quickly swimming again with bliss as you both fall back into the groove of things. After all, one text wasn’t an emergency...

It’s seconds later that you receive two vibrations this time, one right after the other. You break the kiss again.

This time, Jeno reluctantly releases your hands but whines again, still hovering over you as you reach out to retrieve your phone with a whispered “just a sec” under your breath. Your eyes flit over the screen, the two new notifications made up of button mashes and unintelligible words from one of your best friends about some show you couldn’t remember the name of for the life of you. When you realize it’s not serious, you let out a sigh and take the time that Jeno seems placated to type back a quick reply. Mutters of “you’re not paying attention” paint the surface of your skin in warm breaths, but you hum to satiate him.

You’re just about to press send when Jeno’s lips press to your jaw out of nowhere, a place once undiscovered by the trail of his kisses. His experiment seems to do the intended trick when you drop your phone onto the mattress, hand flying to his shoulder in shock. You can feel Jeno’s smirk against your jaw, the tip of his nose practically tracing your ear, “That got your attention.”

You softly groan at him, unable to be irritated despite the urge to pinch him for distracting you in the least. Regardless of what you do, you know he’ll preen at the fact that he made you lose focus in such a simple way. “You’re relentless!”

“I’m kissing you is what I am,” he moves back from your jaw and you ashamedly note that some of the pleasant fog in your brain that comes with being this near him clears when his lips are that much farther away from your skin, “that is... unless you’d like me to take my kisses and go...?”

His teasing tone is more than obvious enough, moonlight lining his figure in a white glow. It’s late, later than usual, but he stays. He doesn’t insist to leave or whisper worries about your parents coming back without letting you know they were on their way. For once, you don’t have to coax him to stay in your embrace a little longer, and yet here you were... distracted by your phone.

He sees the minute you decide what you’d rather have. Taking hold of your phone again, you drop it on the carpet beside your bed and take hold of the back of his neck, pulling him down and in for a sweet kiss. He relishes in how much emphasis you put into it, reminding him that you were thankful he was opening up that little bit more to you. After all, he wasn’t usually this way. He was doing this because he trusted you, because he wanted to be around you as much as you wanted to be around him and he was comfortable right now. You made him comfortable, made him feel safe.

You peel away just a fraction when you’ve both tired yourselves out with kisses and sweet nothings said between each other, letting him sink back into his spot beside you with his head on your shoulder instead of your arm this time. He presses his face to your neck and exhales, each breath in full of the scent of your lovely shampoo.

“I forgot to mention that that first message I received was from my mom. They’re staying the night.” You say, feeling Jeno tense and then melt all at once. You can’t help but find him absolutely adorable, arms winding around him to pull him closer with a giggle.

“That’s good,” Jeno’s voice is muffled against your skin, “Now we can get up to all kinds of delinquencies... like sleeping.” “You’re speaking my language, honey.”

#jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno drabble #jeno au #boyfriend!jeno #lee jeno #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct au #boyfriend!nct #nct #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream au #boyfriend!nct dream #nct dream #majwrites

[existentialkendall-blog]

Nostalgia Is a Drug 

Pairing: Kickthestickz Wordcount: 1.4k Rating: G. A lil bit of angst.

Summary: The Fictional Aftermath of ‘’Type number 1 into the chat if you want me and PJ to have some kind of sexy collab’’

A/N: Feedback is hugely appreciated. I know whether or not to write another fic, or whether I have typo-ed. THANKS and enjoy :) 

Crabstickz. Internet sensation, comedic genius, King of impressions. Chris Kendall drops off the grid again after promising a spectacular return.

Several phrases stand out in the online article.

Unreliable creator, disappointed fans, dying fandom, fantastic foursome. Chris closes the laptop and falls back onto the bed, staring up at the sloped attic ceiling. His phone vibrates in his front pocket and he pulls it out reluctantly, blinking for several seconds at the black and white screen before the message registers.

Stay over Friday

Chris ignores his initial response which involves sexual innuendo and the word ‘coming’. He mentally checks his schedule for this weekend. What a surprise, nothing planned.

You were serious about the collab?

PJ replies almost instantly.

Dead serious. Deadly like a venom snake Or not, we could just hang if you want, watch a couple movies

They haven’t ‘just hung out’ in forever. Even during filming Oscar’s Hotel they’d been under tight time restrictions and always surrounded by other people, never ‘just them’.

I’m not watching the good, bad and ugly again

It’s a CLASSIC

Westerns are not classics. They make my act-y senses tingle in a bad way

You loved it!

He loved the company. 2011 in PJ’s Uni room, buried under the duvet with his monstrous weighty book of film on their laps. PJ picking out the film immediately, eyes wide, convincing Chris that it’s not an average western film, it’s full of awesome one liners and cool characters. Chris giving in because the smile PJ gave him, curved wide and full of light, was worth suffering through a 3 hour film to see. When PJ quoted lines along with the actors Chris saw how much it meant to him. It was his 'The Matrix’.

You’d have it played at your funeral if you could

You’re so morbid

It’d be after the drawing planets masterclass and before cardboard for beginners

I’ll get it written into my will So, Friday?

Of course

One conversation has him smiling into his laptop, window open for train times from Harrogate to Brighton. He books the ticket and feels the first twist of anxiety in his gut.

Friday arrives slower then he thought it would. Anticipation and nerves had swallowed every waking moment. Despite looking forward to it, the implications of seeing PJ confused him. They haven’t collaborated officially for 2 years. They haven’t talked properly for 3.

The train pulls into the station late in the afternoon. His six hour journey seemed more like ten. Unlike all other times, PJ is waiting outside leaning against the metal railings, orange rimmed sunglasses on.

Chris can’t help but grin at his old friend.

Midnight. Every important conversation they have is at midnight, and then it turns into impressions and laughter and dreams about the future. Chris pushes his boot into the heap of pebbles that cover all beaches in Brighton and stares at the moon.

“It’s not where I thought I’d be by now,” the alcohol burns his throat going down and he hands the bottle of vodka to PJ. He takes it reluctantly, finger brushing Chris’ hand accidentally as he does.

“I know that. I think the whole internet knows that.”

“Yeah,” Chris laughs humourlessly, “Because the only videos I make now involve me complaining.”

PJ falls silent. He looks out at the endless undulating waves, thinks of the different frames and shots he could get with this view. He wishes he could find the right thing to say as easily.

“This isn’t what you had in mind when you invited me down is it,” Chris asks, rhetorical.

He answers anyway, “I wanted to see if you were okay-” Chris is laughing again before he finishes his sentence. He hates that question, that sentence. Are you okay? I want you to be okay. For once, if he answered 'I’m not okay’ would the world implode or would it shut the voices up for good?

“Fucks sake. Fine. I wanted to see you Chris. Spend time with you,” After meeting at the station PJ had taken him to a pizza place for dinner. They’d made small talk about movies and upcoming projects. For PJ there was stress and work on the horizon. For Chris there was unemployment and fake bravado.

From there they’d entered a corner shop and picked out a bottle, Chris explaining it with 'to talk’. Liquid courage: liquid honesty. PJ had led the way to a section of the beach that was out of the view of the brightly coloured tourist beach huts, and more towards the wind breakers.

“How sweet,” Chris mutters, digging one hand into the small stones and raising it in a handful, before dropping them to their original place.

“Yeah well,” PJ takes a long gulp and they sit in silence. He didn’t have any premonitions of what this weekend would be. Even though they’ve moved forward with different jobs and experiences, his mind still drifts to the simplicity of their earlier relationship.

“Maybe I wanted to be Jim Carrey so much that I became him.”

“You don’t have depression.”

All comedians have depression. Chris had told him that one after their 8 hour flight from L.A to London. Wrapped in a thick curtain of lethargy and jet lag, PJ had asked him to explain his theory. Using muted gestures and a range of slurred words, he’d said that comedians become comedians because they’re depressed, and they want to make people laugh so other people don’t feel as miserable as they do. Examples included Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, Stephen Fry. 'Does Stephen Fry count as a comedian?’ 'Blackadder’ 'Shit yeah’

“What you have are friends that you can talk to about this stuff.”

Chris sounds pained when he says “You know I can’t do that Peej.”

“You’re doing pretty well so far,” Even if the whole internet is concerned that he’s suicidal. Even if PJ has seen the worried tweets and the demands for an explanation.

“Does Sophie know I’m here?” Chris asks, hesitantly. Because since they met at the station he hasn’t seen her at all. Or anyone, actually.

PJ stops himself from sighing. For all the times they’ve danced around the topic, they’ve never been direct with it. But tonight seems different, like along with the alcohol, his misery might force the words out of him.

“Chris…”

“No wait. I’m not a threat, right?” Chris bites the bottom of his lip, tasting alcohol, and leaving a groove in place. He hates feeling insecure, and in front of PJ it’s somehow worse. He knows his tells, his lies, his stupid coping mechanisms. He can see right through him.

“She knows you’re here. Don’t bring her into this.”

“This,” Chris laughs bitterly, “I miss it,” He lets the nostalgic misery and wonderment that he felt since they walked to the beach enter his voice. He misses having someone there to put up with his bullshit, who saw through his act and still stuck around. He misses PJ and what they both had before it faded away.

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Now he isn’t talking about YouTube or his stunted career, he’s talking about them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever move on. What they had wasn’t concrete, they weren’t an exclusive item. Perhaps to PJ they weren’t anything, just dumb kids messing around with a camera and their bodies. 

Trading kisses like they were nothing, and tweeting silly jokes like they weren’t personal. 

But when he breathes out a repeated, punctuated “I know,” He knows it wasn’t as black and white for PJ. But that’s what it is now.

“You don’t hate me?” For the stupid things I say, for not talking to you, for still making fun of us to my audience because I don’t know how else to process what we were.

“I could never hate you,” 'Not with everything that we used to have’ is how Chris hears it.

They go back to looking at the moon, the ethereal glow lighting their silhouettes.

Chris remembers their first kiss, over eight years ago. PJ had been so nervous, winding his fingers in the sleeve of his hoodie, restlessly messing with his hair. Chris thought of all the nameless men in countless gay bars in Leeds preparing him for this moment. Once they did it, they couldn’t go back because PJ wasn’t a nameless man, he was important. Chris had twined their hands together, stilling PJ’s fidgeting movements.

He’d initiated it, tilted his head to the left and closed his eyes.

When they finally kissed, PJ’s lips were soft.

He leaves the next day with a hangover and a script. While his future is uncertain those memories will always be there. Solid and real. Painful and incomplete.

#kickthestickz #fanfiction #crabstickz #kickthepj #chris kendall #pj liguori #mein #mywriting