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6emo6zombie6 · 4 months

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hii!! I was wondering if I could request a reader who is hurt with either Dutch or John? maybe from an animal attack or just getting hurt by someone who now has a scar across their face?

If not its totally okay! have a great rest of your day <3.

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good (And not all too graphic lol)

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Clawed ~ Hurt gn!reader x John/Dutch

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“Where��re you headed?” Dutch asks, his voice rough as usual as he walks up behind you.

You pay him little mind, humming in his direction as you fasten your horse’s saddle, ensuring none of the straps are too tight.

“Huntin’?” He asks again, now walking up beside you to lean against the hitching post that your horse, Runar, is hitched to. He’d clearly referred to the bow on your horse.

“Yeah,” You breathe, nodding as you glance at him. “Pearson mentioned we were out of meat, so I figured a little huntin’ trip wouldn’t hurt.”

“You’re not takin’ Charles?”

“No,” You shake your head. “He taught me enough, I’m all set to go on my own.”

“hm,” Dutch chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You know he’s worried about you—he has been ever since he pulled you out of your situation and took you refuge in his camp. You’d been taken by a different gang, beaten up, and starved for their sick sense of entertainment.

You tut at Dutch, unhitching your horse and clumsily climbing up on the saddle.

“You know,” He watches you. “You ‘oughta get a smaller horse. You can barely get up on this one.”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your position. “But I like Runar, he’s calm and loyal.”

“I’m just jokin’, I’m just jokin’.” Dutch chuckles. “You be careful now,”

“I’ll be back by sundown.” You put on your hat, nodding once more at Dutch before taking off and leaving the campgrounds.

Your ride wasn’t all too long, you headed up north from Strawberry. Charles had taken you there twice, and both times it had been crawling with deer and some smaller animals. You decided to stall your horse in the trees, grabbing your bow and carefully making your way through the woods. You peered up into the tree to see if there were any squirrels, though you couldn’t find any.

You wandered around for a while, missing tons of shots on little animals. It was clear you weren’t experienced enough to successfully get an arrow in any rodents. You got bored after that long while, making your way back to your horse and riding it through more of the trees.

You rode through the woods and out of the trees, and you were quickly met with an open field. You smiled upon noticing a group of deer, grazing peacefully. You felt bad about killing the animals at first, but you quickly concluded that hunting meant life or death.

“Slow up, boy,” You murmur to your horse, getting him to stop right where the trees ended. You get off of him and draw your bow together with a few arrows.

“Stay here,” You command, patting your horse on the shoulder. Slowly, you gain on the deer, focusing on them as you prepare to shoot your bow. You pick a spot slightly right from the deer, crouching in the grass as you lift your bow, drawing the string and aiming at the fattest of the group. You internally cheered, thinking of how proud Charles would be if he heard you hunted your own deer for the first time.

Suddenly, you heard Runar neigh loudly, his high-pitched screech alarming both you and the deer. Your head whips around, scanning the edge of the forest.

“Runar!” You yell out, seeing him gallop off into the foliage. “Damn that horse,” You grunt, looking the other way again, watching all the deer scurry away. You look at your bow, then at the sun that is starting to set. You sigh, making your way south toward Valentine in the hopes of catching a stagecoach there.

Only a minute had gone by, and you were nowhere near the edge of the field when you heard a blood-curdling growl.

Cougar.

Now you knew what had spooked Runar.

You turned around swiftly, only to be met with a large, female cougar charging toward you. You knew she was out for blood—seeing the hungry look in her eyes. You froze for a second, then whipped around and started sprinting, running as fast as you could.

Once you looked around to check where the cougar was, she had already jumped at you. You shrieked as she pummeled you to the ground, her nails digging into your hip and waist. Your heart raced as your mind went blank, only concerned with staying alive. The large cat nipped and scratched at you, one of her paws dashing across your face as you struggled under her impressive stature.

You were half aware when your hand shakily reached to your belt, your hands gripping your knife to bring it up and plunge it into the animal’s heart. She struggled a little longer before collapsing, her blood spilling all over your chest. You gasped for air as you pushed her off, her body lying limp in the grass.

You got up, your body trembling from all the adrenaline in your blood. You felt a faint stab in your abdomen, as well as the taste of copper in your mouth. As you stumbled forward, you looked down, your shirt ripped to shreds and blood seeping from two large gashes.

“Oh, no,” You breathed, the shock washing away, making you feel the painful sting from your wounds. You frantically press your hand up to the gash, breathing heavily as you start to panic. It all went by so quickly, your blood kept dripping as you walked, hoping to make it to civilization before anything else went down.

Alas, you never made it out of the field, collapsing halfway through as your vision started to flicker. You saw flashes and stars, then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t die on me, now,” You heard in an echo. The raspy voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t seem to put your finger on it. Your eyes opened slightly to see the stars in the pitch black sky, then when you looked to the right, a dark-haired man, his face illuminated by a lantern on the ground next to him. You finally recognized the face.

John.

“John?”

John exhaled, an expression of relief washing over his face. “What-“ He grunted. “what were you thinking? Out here on your own. You’re lucky I found you.”

He seemed to be only wearing his jacket, his shirt currently wrapped around your wounds.

“I’m sorry,” You breathe, wincing at the pain of your wounds. “How—how’d you find me?”

“That horse of yours, he ran back to camp.” John shoveled his arms under you, lifting you up while you groaned in pain. “I followed his tracks back here.”

“You kill that cougar?” He looked around at the animal’s carcass.

“yeah—” You keep moaning out in pain as John places you on the back of his horse, getting on himself. You hold on to his jacket weakly, the world spinning around you.

“Dutch is worried sick about you, you know?” John shook his head, speeding through the woods. He grunted, frustrated by your lack of planning.

“God—i—,” He stammered. He seemed almost angry at you. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t,” You murmur. John ignores you, riding back to camp with haste.

He helps you off his horse once you’re there. Charles, Dutch, Susan, and Arthur crowd around you, all with worried faces as you stumble along to your tent. The rest of the gang members watch from all over the camp.

“What—” Dutch walks up behind you on one side, Charles on the other side to help you walk. “What happened? My dear child,” His thick eyebrows knit together in worry as he successfully helps you lay down on your cot. He stands over you as he inspects you, your torn clothes, the gash on your face, all the blood.

Before you can answer, Miss Grimshaw is already in your tent, bandages in hand.

“I’ll handle it,” Dutch sternly says, taking the supplies and ushering the woman out of the tent. You watch, confused as he closes up the front flaps and lights a lantern in the corner of your tent. Something in his expression hints that he feels guilty.

“I—” You grunt. “I almost had a deer, all on my own…” You murmur, Dutch looks at you, still confused. “A cougar attacked me after Runar ran off.”

“I was a fool to let you go alone,” He sighs, bending down to take John’s shirt off of your wounds. You grunt at him peeling the fabric away, the cold air stinging. He looks at the gashes on your abdomen and waist, pained at the sight of his loved ones hurting.

“God,” He took a long look at your face, inspecting the ragged gash that ran from your cheek to your forehead. “Hosea’s gonna have to stitch that up,” He murmured, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger affectionately. “That damn animal, ‘went and tore up your beautiful face…”

You look away, feeling guilty about bringing Dutch this much distress. he gently caresses your cheek, then kneels by your cot and grabs the roll of bandage.

“Sit up for me, darling,”

You struggle to sit up, grunting and moaning in pain as you move slowly. The waistband of your pants digs into the gashes on your skin, so you slide your suspenders off of your shoulders and roll your pants down. Dutch pushes up what’s left of your shirt and begins carefully bandaging up your wounds.

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, feeling the pressure of the fabric on your stinging skin. You’ve never seen Dutch this precise and careful, let alone his visible worry as he tends to your wounds. You look down at the mess, part of your pants had torn up and lots of blood had seeped into your clothes. Dutch sighs, constantly looking up at you to make sure you’re not in too much pain.

After a few minutes, he’s done bandaging you up. He gets up and takes another look at your face before silently walking out of the tent. You watch him with confusion, eventually forcing yourself up and out of the tent to see what he is doing.

You look across the camp to see him filling a bowl of stew, he looks concerned once he notices you out of your tent. You ignore his gaze and walk over to the main campfire. John stares at you silently, and Reverend looks at you with remorse.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” John asks, his concern hidden by a mask of frustration. You hum at him, sitting down against a log with a groan.

Dutch walks over, shaking his head as he sees you by the campfire. The rest had already gone silent.

“Here,” He murmurs, handing you a plate of hot stew. You smile up at him and take the plate. “I want you to rest after you’re done eating, understood?”

“Okay…” You murmur, looking up at him as he pats your head quickly before walking off to his tent. The conversation sparks up again around the campfire after that. You watch John as he gets up and walks away, disappearing behind Pearson’s wagon. He comes back a minute later with a bottle of whiskey, not making any eye contact as he puts it down beside you.

“Should help with the—with the pain.” He murmurs, sitting back on the crate that he had previously been sitting on. You smile softly in his direction, taking the bottle in hand and gulping at it.

“Heh, you and Marston are matching,” Bill barks out a laugh as he walks by, referring to your bloodied and scarred face.

You and John mutter a synchronized “Shut up.” At the man.

#john marston #red dead redemption 2 #fluff #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption fluff #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #John marston x reader #hurt reader #red dead redemption fanfiction #Dutch is such a dad

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osrphotography · 5 months

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Spotted near Palmerston North yesterday was a rare sight (in NZ).

New to ACTION Canberra as 582 this MAN SL200/Custom Coaches was imported to Aotearoa by Cesta Travel, becoming their № 060 by 1991.

In 1995, it was sold to Leopard Coachlines (who only recently went insolvent) and became their № 17. This didn't last long, and all 4 SL200s were sold to WCCTD (Stagecoach Wellington) by 2007. With 582 becoming 91. Sold privately in 2008 and is now dying slowly in the countryside.

#photos #bus

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melissa-kenobi · 2 years

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O'Driscoll

[Arthur Morgan x Reader]

Only just narrowly escaping the O'Driscolls, the trio raced away from the centre, heading west to avoid bringing any trouble to camp. Finally having cleared their tail of anyone following then, John turned on the former O'Driscoll amongst them.

"You led them to us, didn't ya?" John growled, hand hovering over his revolver as he watched you jump off your horse. "You're still one of them and ya always will be!"

"Come off it Marston, I was with the two of yous the entire time!" You replied, hissing back at John, which only seemed to fuel his anger.

"Sure ya were, I seen you head to the bar, talking to them men! You told 'em our plan so they could ambush us at the right time!" John argued, puffing his chest out in anger. "I knew you weren't to be trusted!"

"Goddammit Marston!! Why are ya always doubtin' me?" You replied back angrily. "I was talking to them about another lead, there's a stagecoach heading up north with ton of money! I was planning to take three or four of us to scout ahead."

"Course ya were. More like yo-" John was cut off by Arthur who had finally had enough of your bickering.

"Would ya both shut up?" Arthur had finally heard enough. Moving himself to stand in-between as he looked at the two of you.

"C'mon Arthur, you ain't that naive to think she ain't still with 'em?" John laughed, watching you. Arthur glanced at John with anger on his face from his position between the two of you. Almost an anchor between his two family choices, one hand his brother and the other, his lover.

"You best watch your mouth boy, she saved our lives goddammit." Arthur replied, mind conflicted. "She saved both our asses!"

"How'd you know Colm didn't tell her to do that?" John turned to you. "Did he also tell ya to sleep with him? To be a spy for your gang?"

Arthur watched as you took a sudden step back, eyes blinking back tears as your hand trembling besides you. "No- I-i never- Arthur-

"What's your relationship with her huh? Is she a good lay, is that it?" John snarled out, angered that his brother had fallen for an O'Driscoll. Growling in anger you rushed towards John, hurling your fist at his face and punching him straight in the nose. Arthur quickly rushed at you, holding you back in his arms, one hand holding the back of your head while the other on your cheek.

"Hey! Hey, calm down darlin', he ain't-, he's baiting ya, don't let him!" Arthur spoke gently, cradling your face in his palms, making you look at him.

"Shit! You no good lying O'Driscoll whore!" John hissed, clutching his nose in pain. "Can't you see Arthur, she tried t'kill me!"

"Marston, I swear-

"Ya don't really believe she ain't an O'Driscoll anymore do ya?" John huffed in disbelief, wiping the blood away from his nose. "You've really got him wrapped around your finger. I jus' hope you realise who your loyalties should been with once she betrays ya."

The two of you watch as John storms off, getting on his horse and riding off into the distance. The sun setting lowly as it cast a shine on Arthur's face. He closed his eyes gently as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Y/N, darlin'-"

Gently throwing Arthur's hands off your face you stepped back, shaking your head, shakily breathing out your words. "I- I can't do this no more Arthur."

"Sweetheart-

"No. I jus' need some time. Please."

"Lemme take yo-

"Alone. Please Arthur." You sigh sadly as you walk away, getting on your horse ready to go. "I love you Arthur, more than anything, don't doubt that ever."

Arthur's mind raced with thoughts, he was conflicted. Should he go after his brother, or his lover? John had been with him since he was a mere boy, they'd practically grown up together as brothers. Arthur considered him his brother, John was his family. But you. You'd helped him when he was going through a tough patch, despite knowing he was part of your rival gang. Why would you have helped him? And his feelings for you, they were way past the point of friendship.

Making his choice was simple. Far simpler than anything he had ever jad to choose from before. He ran after you, calling your name before you came to a stop, knowing you could never run from him. "Arthur-

"How can I make this right? I- I don't- I love you and I don't want ya to leave." Arthur pleaded.

"I don't know- I don't. I can't make John, Dutch or your family not hate me and I don't want you to choose between either of us. I won't let you. I just- I just want you." You whispered, eyes downcast as you hid a small tear from him. "I've only ever needed you."

"I'm yours darlin', always have been since you tossed me those pistols." Arthur smiled, the memory flashing through his mind like it was yesterday. Arthur watched as your face turned up into a smile, grasping his hand in yours. "I can't make my family not hate ya, but I can try to ease that. It won't be easy but I can't do this without ya. I can't force them to trust you, but for what it's worth I do, 'n I hope it's enough. I know I ain't a good ma-"

Dropping off you horse you pulled Arthur into a hug, your lips kissing his cheek. "I know. I ain't a good woman either by no means, done a lotta bad things that I regret, and I'm tryna do good. But I got you now and if you'll have me that's all I need."

Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Arthur pulled back pressing his forehead against yours, eyes searching for any doubt only to be met with pure adoration. "Always sweetheart."

***

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #fluff #melissa writes 💕

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handeaux · 3 months

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Special Delivery! Here Are 17 Curious Facts About The Cincinnati Post Office

On The Barrelhead The Cincinnati Post Office was established in 1794 and received soon after its first mail delivery, consisting of sixteen letters, two newspapers and a snuff box. All mail then was “collect on delivery” or COD – recipients paid the postage. Postage for a simple letter was 25 cents. The postmaster displayed all mail on top of a barrel at his house. Anyone wanting to collect mail paid the postmaster.

Returned To Sender Cincinnati’s first postmaster was an attorney and Revolutionary War veteran named Abner Dunn, who ran the local post office out of his house at the corner of Second and Butler streets. Postmaster Dunn died in 1795 after only a year in office and was buried in the backyard of his house, which was also the backyard of the post office. The site is now a parking lot near Sawyer Point Park.

Everybody Knew Your Business From 1799 up until Cincinnati adopted free home delivery in the late 1860s, the Post Office regularly published a list of all letters awaiting collection, so everybody in town knew when you had mail. If you ignored the published list for three months, your mail was sent to the dead letter office. The lists were extensive, occupying, in small type, as much as half a page in the Cincinnati Commercial or Gazette.

Keep It Under Your Hat Cincinnati’s fifth postmaster was an eccentric Methodist minister named William Burke, who served a very long term from 1814 to 1841. Possessed of a deep, guttural voice attributed to his lifelong addiction to chewing tobacco, Burke is remembered for personally delivering mail around town while making social calls. He kept the items to be delivered in his hat. It is said that “Father Burke,” as he was known, also delivered wise counsel to his patrons along with the mail.

Penny For Your Thoughts During the 1840s, Cincinnati experimented with home delivery, but charged for the service. Two “penny postmen” divided the downtown area, with Joseph Haskell taking the route north of Fourth Street, and Hiram Frazer delivering south of Fourth. Recipients, in addition to the standard postage, coughed up a penny for each letter delivered to their front door.

Inaugural Air Mail? The first mail at least partially delivered by air left Cincinnati on Independence Day 1835. Obviously, no airplane was involved. The pilot was the “Prince of Aeronauts,” Richard Clayton, and the vehicle was his renowned balloon, the Star of the West. Clayton ascended from an amphitheater constructed in the middle of Court Street between Race and Elm with, among other cargo, a satchel of mail intended for eastern cities. He crashed 100 miles away in Pike County and had the post office in Waverly, Ohio, send the letters the rest of the way. A trial involving an airplane in 1912 was really a gimmick in which mailbags picked up at Coney Island were dropped at the California Post Office, just 8,000 feet away.

What The Dickens? By 1825, stagecoaches had replaced pack horses as the primary vehicle for transporting mail throughout the Ohio Valley and nascent Midwest. In addition to letters and newspapers, mail coaches carried passengers and were often the most reliable means of travel available outside the East Coast. When Charles Dickens visited Cincinnati in 1842, he arrived by mail coach.

Postmaster Is The ‘Last Man’ On 6 October 1855, Cincinnati Postmaster John L. Vattier sat down to a most unusual dinner. His table was set for seven, but every place setting, excepting one, was empty. Vattier was the last of seven young Cincinnatian men who survived the 1832 cholera epidemic, bought a pricey bottle of wine, and pledged to meet each year for dinner, saving the bottle for the last of them to survive. On that evening, following the funeral of his last colleague, Vattier dined alone and drank the bottle in memory of his friends.

Postal Currency – What A Riot! As the United States struggled to finance the Civil War, an unintended consequence was a shortage of coins. The Post Office stepped up to alleviate the shortage by issuing postal currency in the form of “shinplaster” paper bills in fractions of a dollar. Public demand was so great in Cincinnati that a riot broke out at the distribution center on 5 November 1862. Although no one was seriously injured, federal troops called in to disburse the 2,000 rioters drew swords and attached bayonets to their rifles until calm was restored.

Shillito Becomes A Worthy Investment Cincinnati merchants, notably John Shillito of department store fame, devised creative ways to issue change when coins were scarce. During the coin-scarce Civil War, Shillito noted that his customers often used postage stamps as currency. Shillito crafted special circular cases to contain one-cent, three-cent or five-cent stamps and used them just like coins in providing change to customers. Today, an 1862 Shillito “encased postage” coin can bring as much as $1,250 at auction.

Hier wird Deutsch gesprochen You didn’t have to be German to manage the Cincinnati Post Office, but it didn’t hurt. Between the Civil War and the Twentieth Century, Cincinnati had 10 postmasters and fully half of them were born in Germany. Our Teutonic mail mavens were John C. Baum (1861 to 1864), Frederic John Mayer (1864 to 1866), Gustav Robert Wahle (1874 to 1878), John P. Loge (1878 to 1882) and John Zumstein (1891 to 1895).

Wayward Mail According to the Post [9 July 1891], Cincinnatians were lucky to receive any letters at all because of their incompetence at addressing envelopes. The Cincinnati Post Office reported that year 156,275 incorrectly addressed letters, 15,620 insufficiently addressed letters, 2,632 illegibly addressed letters, and 10,923 incorrectly stamped letters. In all, 279,385 pieces of wayward mail were returned to sender by exasperated Cincinnati postal clerks. The staff specifically assigned to decipher bad addresses were called “Nixie” clerks.

Babies By Mail The United States Post Office introduced parcel-post deliveries in 1913 and boasted that anything – anything at all – under 11 pounds was suitable for shipment. Taking the Post Office at its word, a Clermont County farming couple, Jesse and Matilda Beagle, made history on 25 January 1913 when they packed up their infant son, and shipped him off via parcel post to his grandparent’s house. The Associated Press claimed the Beagles were the first customers to utilize the new parcel post system in this manner.

Potatoes, Too! A Kentucky farmer did the math and determined that parcel post rates were cheaper than hiring a dray to get his potato crop to market. On 28 October 1916, the Cincinnati Post Office found 35 sacks of spuds, weighing 50 pounds each, waiting to be processed and delivered to a Court Street wholesaler. All 1,750 pounds of taters arrived at their appointed destination by mid-afternoon.

Photographic Memory Postal employees were legendary for their ability to accurately deliver mail bearing a minimal address. That skill was tested to an extreme in 1929 when an envelope arrived in Cincinnati bearing only a photograph of a building and the name of the city. A postal clerk recognized the building in the photograph. Sure enough, the letter was intended for Oliver F. Slimp, manager of the Edwards Building at 528 Walnut Street, the building pictured in the photograph pasted on the envelope.

The Porn Stops Here Federal investigators tracing the distribution of obscene materials throughout the Midwest found that most of the pornography was mailed from Cincinnati. On 28 November 1940, postal inspectors struck paydirt in a West Eighth Street warehouse, where they found 28 rolls of motion picture film, 2,000 photographs, 3,000 printed cartoons, a dozen cartons of obscene literature and related printing plates. Two Cincinnati men were arrested as a result of the raid.

End Of The Line Cincinnati’s art-deco styled Main Post Office on Dalton Street was originally constructed in 1933 as the Dalton Annex. The huge building was intentionally located adjacent to railroad lines and the new Union Terminal because so much mail was transported to Cincinnati by train. That advantage disappeared on 17 November 1974 when the iconic track-side facility received the last shipment of mail to arrive in Cincinnati by railroad.

#cincinnati post office #cincinnati postmasters #cincinnati mail

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mykneeshurt · 10 months

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Mister Morgan - Chapter 4

Arthur Morgan x F!reader

All warnings are in the title page

Chapter five

Taliesin broke into a gallop as he sped away from Lone Mule Stead, the night air was calm, peaceful. You always loved the night air, the darkness soothed you, you felt like you could really breathe at night, and it had a different flavour, one you craved.

Slowing Taliesin to a walking pace you took a deep breath in, closing your eyes as you savoured the newfound freedom. “Now, I’m gonna ask you again. Are you alright? Cause that … that was somethin’ else back there.” Arthur’s voice pierced the silence. “Vengeance, Arthur. “ You said coldly.

“Vengeance is an idiot’s game. Someone always gets hurt.” You felt him shake his head.

“Colm took someone close to me Arthur, so I took the closest to him.” You said quietly. You felt him nod in a quiet understanding.

In an attempt to lighten the mood Arthur started asking you questions “Your horses name is … different. Where’s it from?”

You giggled, “I wondered when that was gonna come up. It’s welsh. I wasn’t born here; I was born in Wales, but my mother and father came over here when I was a child. Wanted a new life away from there. One long boat ride later and here I am.”

“And here you are.” You felt Arthur smiling behind you. “So, what about your parents what did they do?”

“Well, I told you about my father, Gerwyn, he was a stagecoach driver, before that he was a miner in Wales. My mother Rhiannon was a seamstress, she died when I was young. Pneumonia.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How long were you livin’ in Valentine?” He asked.

“Mmmm, Valentine about ten years, before that we lived in Annesburg as my father got a job in the mines there before driving the stagecoach. Before that we lived up north. Annesburg was my favourite, reminded me so much of Wales. The greenery, the hills, the valleys.” You sighed.

You guided Taliesin though the weaving paths round the cliffs, he seemed content not having to be hitched to a post for days on end. Until he reared and let out a distressed whinny, Arthur grabbed your waist and held on to avoid falling off.

His strong grip sent shockwaves through your torso, you felt your heart beat faster and a red-hot heat through your body. “Steady Taliesin! Steady! Sorry Arthur” you giggled, “He saw a rabbit and he’s sooo scared of them. Aren’t yah boy?” Taliesin huffed in response and relaxed into your touch. “Chrissakes boy! Scared the shit outta me.” Arthur said, his voice shaking with fright.

You patted Arthur's thigh, another excuse to touch him, “You? Scared? A big ol tough cowboy like you.” You laughed as you turned your head and gave him a wink over your shoulder. “The toughest.” Arthur replied poking you in the ribs at the same time.

Hours passed as Arthur filled you in on his gang of outlaws and their mishaps. He told you about the recent disaster in Blackwater on the ferry where the gang lost a substantial amount of money, how they were being tailed by Pinkertons and the numerous bar fights he got into in the Valentine Saloon.

You learnt a few of their names, Dutch he was the leader, a father figure to Arthur, Hosea, another father figure who helped raise him, Charles, been with the gang 6 months, Miss Grimshaw a matron type and a few more. They had just left the Valentine area and moved to Clements Point in Lemoyne as the Pinkertons found them. You knew Horseshoe Point well; it was on top of a cliff overlooking the valley below. Truly beautiful.

As the early morning hours approached you saw Valentine in the distance you turned to Arthur with a smile “First things first cowboy, you need a bath, because quite frankly … you smell. It’s on me.” Arthur laughed in agreement “Sure, I guess I am a bit ripe.” You tapped your heels against Taliesin’s haunches, and he picked up the pace.

As you entered Valentine it was just as you remembered. Muddy. You hitched Taliesin to the post outside the hotel and walked in to greet the clerk. “One bath and one bedroom please.” Arthur looked at you confused. “Arthur. I’ve spent four years sleeping on shitty cot, I want to stay in a bed for one night. Besides, I need a drink and last time I checked you have no horse, so you’re stuck with me. We’ll go in the morning.”

Arthur tipped his head and smiled “Yes ma’am.” You both walked to the bedroom, it was opposite the bathroom at the end of the hotel corridor. It was small, but it had an open fire and a bed, all you needed for one night. You hadn’t slept in a bed for a long time, this felt like luxury.

“Arthur why don’t you get yourself cleaned up? I’ll be back in a second.” He nodded and went to bathe. You walked across to the general store and bought some food for your horse as well as some sugar cubes, his favourite. Whilst you were there you noticed some male clothes on the rail, Arthur had none and he was hardly inconspicuous in his bright red union suit. You smiled to yourself as you picked out some trousers, a shirt, and some boots. All black, your favourite. This would do until you got him back to camp. Using money, you stole from the O’Driscolls you paid for the goods and walked back to the hotel.

When you walked into the bedroom you initially didn’t notice Arthur sat in the corner … in just a towel. The sight of him sat there as the morning sun shone through the window, highlighting every detail, the scars on his chest danced in the sunlight as well as the shadows of his muscles on his body.

You let out an audible gasp “Oh god, sorry! I thought you were still in the bath! Here I bought you some clothes, it ain’t much but at least you won’t be in … in a towel.” Your eyes descended down his body as you drank him in unable to breathe. “Well thank you darlin’” he purred, “I don’t bathe for long, the waters still hot, left it in for you.” You took a minute to compose yourself before thanking him and going to have a bath of your own.

You undressed yourself and took down your hair, it rolled down to your waist. The bath was so warm and inviting, you led there letting the bubbles swarm over you. You thought about the past 24 hours and how so much had happened, you knew Colm would come looking for you. Not that you cared. Let him. It would be a while until he caught your scent anyway.

Consumed in thought you didn’t hear Arthur knock the door, he opened the door and you instantly scrunched yourself into a ball. “Oh! God! Sorry! You didn’t answer so I wanted to make sure you were ok! You forgot your towel.” You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Blushing you thanked Arthur and sank into the water. He just saw … well you don’t know what he saw, probably everything. Washing your hair and body you ran your fingers lightly over the scar Colm had given you. You winced at the memory of that night, a night you tried so hard to bury in your deepest memory.

You got out of the bath and dried yourself, squeezing the excess water from your hair and putting it back into a low bun. A white ¾ sleeve length shirt and long black skirt was your outfit of choice, not that you had much. The belt which had Arthur's teeth marks in adorned your wait accentuating your hourglass figure. You caressed the marks in your belt and smiled to yourself.

Walking back into the room, you saw Arthur wearing the clothes you bought him. He stared out of the window and seemed oblivious to your entrance. He leant into the windowsill arms crossed, “nice to see you with some clothes on Mr Morgan” you quipped. He turned around and smiled at you “I could say the same about you” he snickered. You felt your cheeks burn. “I need a drink” you whispered in embarrassment.

The saloon was already filled with patrons trying to get the bartenders attention. Arthur led you to a seat in a quiet corner of the saloon, his black outfit contrasted perfectly with the blueness of his eyes. You didn’t have an appetite, so you ordered a beer while Arthur ordered a Whiskey. “So, you know all about me. What about your parents Arthur?” His thumb caressed the edge of the glass deep in thought, you watched his thumb unable to take your eyes away as you wished it was your lips. “My mother died when I was young, her name was Beatrice. I lived with my father, Lyle, he kind of got me into this life. He was an outlaw too, the law got him in the end when I was 11. That’s when Dutch and Hosea found me.”

“I’m so sorry Arthur that must have been hard.” You said stroking his hand. He shrugged. Changing the topic Arthur raised his glass “Anyway, welcome to the gang. Seein’ as you got no other place to go. Dutch’ll love you.” You raised your bottle back at him with a smirk and drank to that.

As you drank into the evening you focused on Arthur’s face in the early evening light. You noticed him looking at your lips when you were speaking, he sat back in his chair hips splayed towards you as he drank. “I’m going to the little ladies' room” you slurred, “another whiskey Mister Morgan?” He nodded and laughed as you stumbled off to the toilet.

You splashed water on your face in an attempt to calm yourself, you felt the electricity between you building, and it was unbearable. Desperately trying to gather your composure you left the bathroom, as you exited the door you bumped into a man and sent his drink flying. “You stupid bitch! Watch where you’re fuckin’ goin’” he shouted. You rolled your eyes at him, within an instant he had you pinned against the wall “you better watch yourself” he threatened.

Arthur approached from the corner of your eye due to the commotion. You glared directly at the man, smirking. “’Fuck you think is funny?” He demanded.

“THIS!” you yelled, and you drove your foot directly into his crotch. The man dropped to the floor, Arthur grabbed your hand and you both stumbled out of the back of the saloon in fits of giggles.

Arthur watched you as you caught your breath, you stood up and closed the gap in between your bodies. Your heart pounded in chest. You straightened out his shirt, he was so firm and warm, you left your hand on his chest, his heart beat furiously to your touch. You stared at each other intently, as the gap closed even more, the tension was agonising. You glanced at his lips, as you parted your own with a small grin. This was it.

“OVER THERE!” The man yelled.

Shit.

———

I love Arthur

#arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic

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thechanelmuse · 2 years

Photo

In the 1800s, 1 in 4 cowboys were Black in the Old West.

The Federation of Black Cowboys

They were formed in 1994 in Queens, NY by Virginia-native Ellis “Mountain Man” Harris (first photo), Brooklyn-native Kesha “Mama” Morse (photoed sitting atop the hay), North Carolina-native Arthur “J.R.” Fulmore (photoed holding the saddles) and some other Black Americans to promote the knowledge and heritage of the “Black West” in the East coast.

They teach young kids the art of western horsemanship, the skills required to properly care for a horse and aim to upkeep the tradition with their descendants, as well as stories of Black American historical figures for all such as: Bill Pickett, Nat Love, Bass Reeves, and Stagecoach Mary.

Mountain Man was inspired to form the likeminded crew after watching the first Black Rodeo in Randall’s Island, west of Harlem, in 1971. The likes of Muhammad Ali rolled through:

In 2016, with declining membership and dwindling finances, The FBC lost their long held stables and ability to host youth programs at the same capacity. The presence of Black American residents in New York, especially the 5 boroughs, drastically shifted stemming from decades prior and presently due to many being forced to uproot since then: the New Great Migration. (I always say we’re some rare breeds out here.) In spite of it all, it’s warming to know that the crew is able to continue to thrive.

As for the photoset, most of them were captured by Paul Collins and Brad Trent.

SN: And yes that’s Beyoncé with the crew.

#black cowboys #black cowgirls #the federation of black cowboys #ellis mountain man harris #kesha mama morse #arthur jr fulmore #muhammad ali #beyonce #black american culture #black rodeo

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evelynmlewis · 7 months

Text

The Boy in the Castle, Ch. 2

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“Let the record show that I was against this,” said Ilya, mostly to himself, as Madame Olga loaded her son Alexei into the back of the stagecoach.

He was sitting on the driver’s board, behind the horses, out in the front. A nun lifted a large wooden chest into the carriage. That box would contain all of his passengers’ personal effects.

In the coach, shrouded by curtains and wooden doors of diamond-shaped lattice, sat the boy, with a cage full of eight white doves on his lap. Tight accommodations, but the birds would just have to make do.

Madame Olga’s coin had bought the stagecoach; the trip was too risky to rent one. He had plans to sell it for a little extra money if he could get it back over the border after the trip. They were in need of two horses to pull the thing, one of which was his own and the other of which had been provided by Olga.

As for the upfront payment… it was burning a hole in his pocket already. His purse jingled and he eventually decided just to stuff it under the seat. There was no point in making themselves more of a target for highwaymen than they already were.

The first leg of the journey was not difficult. They set off after supper, and made it to the border around nightfall, as had been Ilya’s intention, to avoid notice. They traveled on a back road. There was a swathe of farmland that cut across the two kingdom’s borders, with no marked boundaries save those of the farmers’ properties. The carriage bounced and rattled on the dirt path, and he winced. The vehicle was going to lose half its value on this journey alone.

He drew them around carefully by a roundabout way to get back on the main roads by dawn. If they looked to be traveling east to west, rather than north to south, they could disguise where they’d come from, and appear less suspicious. For now, it didn’t really matter that they were technically heading away from their destination.

In the late morning, they stopped at a Belovian inn near the border. When his passengers got out of the coach, the boy was rubbing his eyes, and Ilya could see that he had been asleep. The woman put her hand on his shoulder and steered him into the inn with her.

It was a small wooden building, painted white, with bright red cross-work in the current fashion. Within, there were few other guests. Those who were there evidently had little time to spare lingering downstairs.

The coach was stabled in the back, and Ilya worried about attracting attention with it, but there was no good alternative.

They slept in two rooms. In the early evening, Madame Olga paid the due, and they were off again. This time they were to travel for an extended period of time so as to get back on schedule. It would do no good to continue traveling at night.

During this stretch, Alexei slept in the back of the coach, but Ilya stayed awake at the reins. He didn’t know if Olga was awake or only resting—she could mind herself.

When the sun rose and the day came again, he was struck, not for the first time, by the natural beauty of Belova. The fields of golden wheat, the barley and the rye hadn’t been visible at night, but now they waved joyously in the sun.

Later in the day, though, the landscape began to undergo an ominous change. Wide swathes of crops were blackened and burned. There were withered, stooped trees along the side of the road, and even the sky seemed darker. On the road they passed no one, except two entire wagons going the opposite direction, and the riders gave them wary glances.

When they finally got to the inn at which he had planned to stop for the night, they were all thoroughly exhausted.

The inn was completely deserted, and this time they were the only guests.

“Where are you coming from?” asked the innkeeper after they paid. Perhaps he suspected them of something, but he sounded mostly incredulous to see them.

“We’re traveling from Stosla to Rostek,” he said.

The innkeeper gave him a dry glance, likely suspecting that they were nobles trying to flee the country. It was all right to be suspicious, thought Ilya, as long as nobody suspected the truth.

He might as well get more information while he could. “When were they here?” he asked in a low voice.

“They?”

“You know.”

“The Vroek Coalition passed through here two days ago and moved towards the south.”

This was concerning to hear. When they got up to their rooms, he stopped Olga before they parted for the night. Alexei clung to her skirt.

“We need to talk.”

When she looked surprised by his announcement, he knew this conversation wasn’t going to be easy.

“Listen,” he said. “The Coalition being this far east wasn’t on my agenda. It’s going to be hard to travel through this territory without being noticed.”

“It was a possibility I was aware of,” said the woman.

“Well, it wasn’t a possibility I was aware of. And in case you haven’t noticed, I have a neck too.” Alexei stared on, wide-eyed, but Ilya paid him no mind.

“What are you going to do, then?” she asked him, placing a light hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Leave us?” Her eyes were challenging, unblinking.

On the other side of the hill, the marching men advanced. They crouched, with their backs to the rocks. The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Moonlight shone on their bayonets. He started to crawl.

“Ilya! Where are you going?”

He steadied himself on the doorknob. “What? No. I wouldn’t – I wouldn’t do that.”

It was almost like she knew. She didn’t know, he reminded himself. She didn’t.

“But,” he reiterated sharply, “we can’t continue on your preferred course. I can’t take you all the way to Stosla with the situation as it is.”

“We must make it to the capital,” the woman insisted predictably.

“I know, I know. But things are much too unstable around the capitol. You could wait—”

“No. Our mission is important. We must make haste.”

It was the first time she had openly mentioned a mission. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. We will go further east, and circle around this lowland territory. We’ll travel near the mountains, until we come around toward the south side of the capital. Then I will deliver you to Lohova, which is only five miles from the capital. If you still want to go on from there, I’m sure you can figure it out,” he added with some distaste.

“This will make us late by many days,” said Olga.

“Nonetheless, it is the best I can do.”

Olga gave a curt nod, indicating that she was willing to accept the compromise.

Next Chapter

#salt and light #writing #my writing

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kroashent · 11 months

Text

Val-Cula Daily - May 29

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Deep Dive: Stoker and Orientalism. This is gonna be a long one...

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The "Szgany" peoples are heavily featured in today's story, starting on an iconic, but often problematic association between the Romani ethnic group, the supernatural world, and Western European prejudices. The word Szgany appears to be Stoker's attempt to trasliterate a Romanian word, rather than one that existed in widespread use. There's a more in-depth deep-dive into this than I can provide here: https://screamscenepodcast.tumblr.com/post/699604864253214720/a-point-of-clarification-more-linguistics-cw

Its often said that the past is a foreign country and the context of Stoker's time, while it does not excuse the problems, might help inform them.

---------------

Let's open this can of worms...

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Stoker lived and wrote in the 19th century, the height of an art-historical trend called Orientalism, a renewed Western interest in the Middle East and Islamic culture, brought about by changes to travel and communications technology. African colonization, increased trade and travel with North Africa, South Asia and the Ottoman empire, opened up Western European cultures to an entirely new set of cultures and aesthetics, and interest exploded.

From a cynical view, Orientalism is a problematic movement, a patronizing Colonial and Imperialist coinciding with racist depictions, exploitation and the forced homogenization of cultures resulting from the spread of European Colonialism in Africa and Southeast Asia. But it is also one of fascination and awe at new concepts of expression and thought, a genuine attempt to understand and adapt these expressions and cultures, but through a very removed and warped view brought on by Europe's own ethno-religious struggles, state/religious propaganda of earlier times, geographic distance and linguistic ignorance.

Orientalism was especially prevalent in France, where the Société des Peintres Orientalistes Français (Society of French Orientalist Painters) was founded a mere 4 years prior to Dracula's publication, inspired by French Colonial ties to Algeria and Morocco. French Orientalist painters could be split into two groups: Those who traveled, lived and worked in the areas they painted, and those who never left their own studios. The SPOF often held promotions and dinners, not just of French Orientalist painters, but also showcases of Islamic art, cuisine, language and culture. Similar trends existed in England, although to a lesser extent, and it is evident from Stoker's work that he was often exposed to these movements. The first unabridged and unexpurgated English Language editions of the seminal Orientalist collection, Tales of 1,001 Nights were published in 1882 and 1885, after earlier, heavily censored and altered versions had been in circulation up to that point.

While it is easy to dismiss the movement as another example of Western colonialism, it was also one driven by a genuine desire to understand and share the cultural beauty they encountered, albeit through the often blunt and blundering lens of Belle Epoque/Victorian society. Stoker is making a real attempt to showcase the peoples of Eastern Europe, commonly drawing on food, clothing and architecture in his drawings, but sometimes, as is the case with the Szgany, he falls flat to the standards of contemporary review.

------------

So, now that I've gotten everyone worked up over a 19th century artistic movement, how does the initial appearance of Dracula's "Gipsie" henchmen work out? I actually thought pretty well.

The Szgany have arrived to do some work for Drac, at which point I direct you to my earlier "Dracula is a crime lord of a technothriller. The Szgany are not following Dracula alone as a superstitious group, but one of a large network, including, but not limited to: A Romanian stagecoach line, a hotel, several British lawyers, several British realtors, a Russian shipping company, a British Zoo, a Bulgarian businessman, a pair of Hungarian Bankers, several British teamsters and a spider-eating man in a padded room. Its sort of weird how the Szgany get singled out, when its actually harder to find a group the ISN'T working for Dracula, however inadvertently. Drac's got connections, is my point.

Anyway, Jonathan writes some postcards to Mina and Hawkins, and drops them out a barred window with some gold. The Szgany turn them over to Dracula! A nefarious betrayal! Or is it?

Neither Jonathan, nor the Szgany share any language, as Jonathan points out when he drops some stuff without context or instruction on top of a caravaner's head. Seeing the crazy man throw things out a window shouting in a strange language, they turn them over to the homeowner, Dracula, for further instruction... which is probably what would have happened with a Romani trapped in an English Lord's remote castle as well, TBH. It doesn't go well.

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest voice as he opened two letters:—

"The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"—he must have looked at it—"one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"—here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly—"the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then he went on:—

"The letter to Hawkins—that I shall, of course, send on, since it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend, that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?" He held out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a clean envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When he went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute later I went over and tried it, and the door was locked.

Dracula is at his creepiest when he does something threatening but poses it as a "friendly" conversation.

#dracula daily #Dracula #Orientalism #Long Post

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theburgessobserver · 1 month

Text

JACK FROST WILD WEST AU!

It was another typical day at the North Pole ....if you can call arguing among Santa Claus,The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy about the Northern lights typical…

North:How many times I've got tell you it's not problem that we can deal with just like that!

Bunnymund:I didn't ask you for your opinion!

North:I sick you bothering me

North:I didn't get any sleep last night because i had to fix the Guardian Lights.

Toothiana:We have been talking about this for 3 hours and we still don't know where to start!

North:Look Tooth you flying up miles does not fix problem.

North:I know urgency it's probably more important to me than it to you!And I invented it!So just stop pushing me.

Bunnymund:Stop Pushing?!

Bunnymund:We've had this broken down for a week now!What if an emergency happened we couldn't just be in the dark about it.

Tooth:Okay so we're all tired and we all want to get it done as soon as possible so why dont we just ride it.

Meanwhile Jack was watching some westerns on an portable TV he found them so fun even though they took place in the Dry and Hot Desert most of the time.He had always had a bit of fondness for them after all he grew up as a cattle boy and it felt familiar to him now more than ever.

And the toys of the workshop helped the feel what with the cowboy action figures,horses,stage coaches and toy town and model train set it just worked out!

He was quite sad to see his friends arguing he wanted to help so he came up with an idea.

North:Look Jack ive already told you keep out of this

Jack:Well , I just thought…

North:Well just don't there's nothing you can do to help,It's enough dealing these two here without you make it more difficult.

Bunny:Yeah go back and leave us alone!

North:That's right and we'll make the decisions!

Tooth:And could you turn that Television down!?

Well…all i wanted to do was just give a suggestion,Jack silently muttered to himself…

Bunny:WELL THERE AS SOME JOBS THEY CAN'T DO AND THIS IS ONE OF THEM!

North:Oh,and what did they do before we had the Northern Lights?

Bunny:Holy Mackerel…just listen to this guy!

Tooth:Look,will you two just stop fighting amongst yourselves so we can finally get somewhere?

Bunny:But…

North:But nothing just leave me alone so I get back to work.

Tooth:Look North we dont want to tell you what to do it's just that this is a very important necessity.

Meanwhile Jack was getting tired and started to drop off to sleep Sandy noticed him and so he gave him so gave him some Dreamsand.Jack was falling asleep the words of the fellow Guardians were on his mind”Keep out of this Jack!” ”That's right,we'll, make the decisions!”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Gunfire was heard in J.Shorters Bank in Sandy Springs,the Bankteller was held at gunpoint by a bandit.

“Oh my,Oh my,you can't do that!Mr.Shorty will be very mad”:He said as the bandits took the bags of gold one by one.

While at Gunpoint he saw the alarm…slowly he inched his way towards it.

Cmon,Cmon thats it.

Just one more..

Yeah Just one more

“The trouble with your two is that you're just plain greedy”Said the lead bandit to the other two.

Hurry it up,Hurry it up!

Suddenly a shot rang out and ink flew across the teller

“I wouldn't do that if i were you….next time i'm aiming for you!”

Okay you,lets beat it!

The Bandit turned back to the teller:”I hope you have a nice warm fireplace.”

After which he shot down a lamp and set it ablaze,

Before Leaving he stopped to say:Were the Guardian gang,see you round partner.

The Bankteller went to the phone.

Operator!Operator!Fire!Help!Robbery!Oh my!

Outside the gang in their eight horse oven stagecoach were riding high.

YIPPEE YI YAY!YAHOO!YAHHA!WOOHOO!YAHEY!

They said as they drove over the Mayor's garden with the Mayor shaking his fist at the unchained bandits who knocked down his fence.

Maverick Nick:How are we doing ?

Deadshot Aster:If you try to ride this this coach and not fly it we'll do a whole lot better

Dragon Tooth:Yeah try not to get us crippled before we spend the money

Dragon Tooth:What's the matter Aster?I thought you like a little bit of dangerous driving!

Deadshot Aster:Yeah I know but I'd like to stay alive too!What's next chief?

Maverick Nick:A little Gold consignment in Kansas City and the nearest town from here to there is..Jacksville

Maverick Nick:Reckon well bide our time there

Deadshot Aster:Did you Say Jacksville?

Maverick Nick:Yes so what?

Deadshot Aster:Well the Sheriff there has a reputation for Law and Fun!

Dragon Tooth:And they say he's the coolest draw in the west.

Maverick Nick::QUIT WHINING YOU TWO!I said next stop Jacksville

Jackville Law Abiding folks welcome:the sign read.

Sherrif Jack was resting in cool breee,just yesterday he shot off an apple of the Bartenders head while saying that he would do it"without knocking down a single hair".Then again the Bartender was bald.But that was the fun and excitment this town needed.

When suddenly a man broke in and started gesturing in sign language.

The Guardian Gang is in town?Ok let's play it cool then….

At the Saloon the atmosphere was most dissatisfactory with the three new guests.

Deadshot Aster:Another drink and be quick about it mate!

Maverick Nick::Yeah I could do with another strong drink.

Katherine:I hope you aren't planning no trouble after all this is a Law abiding town and this is a respectable Bar!

Deadshot Aster:Why don't you get lost sweetheart?

Maverick Nick:What's hurry I hope you not trying to pull out just when lifes getting sweet?

T:Well no chief but..

Maverick Nick:Then Shut it

M:At Six today the express mail train will pick up the largest load of Gold ever shipped in the west and right now its safe and sound but 5 minutes before the train leave station that gold will be wheeled out on the platform and that's when our dream will come true!

Sheriff Jack entered the Bar

Silence fell

He slowly walked up to the ringer

What'll it be, sheriff?Said the Barkeep.

Maverick Nick:Vodka,Sheriff?

Jack:No,just milk.

Silence fell again and all eyes were on him.

The Gang all looked at him.

Jack slowly reached for his milk.

His hand slowly made his way when……

BANG!A shot rang out!

And then another and another!

Everyone ducked.

Deadshot Aster missed and Jack shot his gun out of his hand.

Jack:Alright dont move,hold it right there!

Tooth was about to shoot him when Sandy hit here with a chair knocking her out.

Nick was about to get Jack but as he aimed Katherine hit him.

Let that be a lesson to you, never be rude to a lady.

Great job gang!Jack said congratulating the loyal citizens.

Alright you put your hands up!

N:well get even with you Sheriff

Okay Sandy take them to the jailhouse

Jack:You can just cool off in there, okay?

The phone ranged

Jack:Yes

Trouble down at the Eastwood rodeo Sheriff!Could you come down?:said the voice from the phone.

Jack:Sure Slim!

Sandy gestured.

“Yes i'm leaving to help Slim,you stay here deputy and guard them till i return.”

“Ok,but remember to keep an eye on them.”

One Hour later the deputy was asleep whilst he lay there while the gang plotted…

They had connected a hook to a piece of wire and were trying to get the keys which lay on the desk.Whispering amongst each other.

T:Just a little more

D:Easy

N:Blast it!

T:Try again.

D:Thats it,Thats it,Thats it

Lady Luck must have smiled on them for they got the keys hooked and slowly dragged them across the floor.

Sandy would move every now and again,stirring as if his dream was turning into a nightmare.

N:Tooth you take care of him ill get the weapons.

Sandy was still sleeping but he woke up when he was bound and not gagged.He was tied to his seat and could only helplessly look on as the gang made there getaway.

Maverick Nick: said:I hope you have a nice warm fireplace.

And promptly shot the oil lamp and lit it.

The fire spread whilst the gang went on to their stagecoach and fled.

Sandy was struggling and trying to unbound himself while the fire came closer and closer.

He knew he wouldn't make it out through the exit as he was bound and would never make it so he knocked over the phone.

While he couldn't talk he could alert Jack.

He did his form of communication one tap yes two taps no.

Who is this?Tap Tap Tap Tap.Sandy is that you?Tap .Is there some sort of trouble?Tap.Dont worry, I'm on my way!

The Stagecoach was going like crazy through the lone prairie at dangerous speeds.

Suddenly it stopped at the crossroad which said:Kansas City and Border.

D:Why have we stopped mate?

N:Look we make plan and we do it!

T:I dont know the mountain road is hard and this large stagecoach wont make it!

D:And i'm not risking my neck in Kansas after the shootings of 89.And that gold will surely have guards.

N:Look i glad we out of Jail but we still have hope to ride off into the sunset as the richest bandits ever.

D:I say we go for the border where well be safe.

N:I say for Kansas you don't know this Stagecoach as much as I , why i….

T:Built it?

N:Of Course not!I stole it!

Aster:We should just scream. I don't want to be on this crazy thing one minute longer than I need to!

T:Listen you two !We can still make it!And have all the gold we want!

D:I'm not risking my neck just to satisfy your bloody greed!We've got plenty from the other places we hit and when we double-crossed those Midget Terrors of Tiny Town.

T:Can you two just make up your minds?

The fire rained hot in the Sheriff's office…Jack saw his past melt before his eyes his valued memories gone in the light of the blaze the Guardians made.Fortunately He made it in time to save Sandy.While Sandy was not a good talker he was a great listener and knew exactly what the bandits planned to do!

He wrote down the Border and Kansas and information he heard.

Jack:Hmm the border but their heart was on the gold too ...and they'll make it there before the express and then they would paint the town red…unless there desperate people and greedy…i'm going to put my career on them going for the gold and and i'll stop them even or bust!

Sandy wrote:You'd better be careful there, dangerous and taught.With the Price of 200,000 thousand dollars on their head and their infamy they don't think twice!

D:Ok im going on…but if this thing breaks to splinters it was your choice!

N:So as I say let's go!

Jack got aboard the she was driven by Jamie Jones the famed engineer.He was proud of his engine it was a modern 4-4-0 fresh out of the Baldwin Locomotive Works with 15 inch cylinders and 80 inch drivers beautifully decorated and modern she was Jamies love.With diamond leaf lettering proudly presenting their name”Iron Belle“….the chase of the horse and the iron horse was on!

Jack:Well, We need to make it there!

Jamie Jones:Dont worry i think we can!Cmon girl you can do it,show them what you're made of!

The Guardian Gang had quite a lead but the horses struggled up the steep grades and Nick's whip didn't help much.

D:What's wrong with this thing?Are you sure you don't have any brakes?Because they seem to be on.He sarcastically remarked.

The Iron Belle was gaining but the road went downhill so the gang was speeding up. It was a rough,wild and hazardous ride as they passed through a Railroad Crossing.

Jamie:Hot Diggity,that's my Girl looks like they licked.Were gaining quick.

They started coming closer…

The Iron Horse sped through the tunnel with its whistles wailing in a cry of victory!

T:The Sheriffs aboard!

D:Are you sure?

T:Completely, I could tell by how the sun glinted off his white teeth.

Suddenly the horses got a second wind and started to speed up.

The train and the coach were nearly side by side!

B:Keep 'em going neck and neck!

The race was on!

N:Onwards Jailbird, Laws nightmare and Spirit.

Cmon, I'm waiting for you:said Jack.

N:He's got gun!

D:Whadya expect mate?A shovel?

Deadshot climbed aside and took aim and started shooting at the cab and Jack fired back they were practically next to each other.Jack missed Aster but the shot disbalanced him and knocked him over while falling off he clumsily got his foot stuck in the ropes so he was dragged on.

Dragon Tooth:Dont stop, we can do it!

Maverick Nick successfully navigated it through shortcuts through the mountain road so they could make up for the Expresses' faster speeds.

As they rounded the next crossing they passed the express; it wasn't over yet.

Meanwhile Aster was still dragging along through the dust and sand.

D:Well now I look like a dust Bunny.He said to himself.

The Express kept on gaining and soon enough they were yet again neck and neck with Jack firing back at T.

The Steam pressure was building and Belle was straining under the speed it was going at!

Jamie:C'mon you can do it!

But she was losing steam rapidly,the bullet hole on the boiler did their work and it looked like it was over!

Aster was right!The Coach was put under too much pressure too and lost a wheel just as it was going over a railroad crossing and got stuck.

The train was going too fast and collided with the coach as the horses ran loose as the reins broke and the coach got caught on the cowcatcher…

The gang was hanging on for dear life when suddenly..

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Jack?Jack?"

"We must stop the Guardians gang"

Jack woke up to see North and the guardians around him.

North:Jack?Jack?Jack?You've been dreaming,are you right?

Jack:Yeah…

Bunnymund:Sorry we were a bit tough on you,but we were all nervous about the breakdown.

North:But we found a solution!And to celebrate we'll have a trip to Oklahoma as you wanted!

Tooth:But it won't be exactly like as you saw in the cowboy movie you saw.

North:What were you dreaming about?

Jack:Well…

Jack:I was the Sheriff of Jacksville,and you were part of the guardian gang.

The Guardians listened with interest,except Sandy who couldn't help but smile….

This happens circa a few months after the events of the movie,by this point in time Jack has gotten used to his life as a Guardian and coming often to North's Workshop to as he put it:Chill out.

Also i tried to make this all work to be canon so it had to be a dream that Sandy made for Jack.(Katherine the barowner is based on mother goose by the way...).Also the Terrors of Tiny town is an actual movie name for a western in this there somewhat like (all midget western)elfs with which the gang worked together for 3 years straight.......dont ask about the fourth year......it isnt pretty....

Please like,review and comment .It makes my day!And helps me.

Names

Cool-Handed Jack

Deadshot Aster-Wanted 100,000 Dollars....Dead or Alive(But rather dead..)

Wanted for:

? counts for murder

7 counts of mercenary activity

22 counts of theft

15 counts of Arson

And longtime Bootlegging

And more possible

Wanted in 8 states+Australia

He is said to be as dry and hostile as the outback.

While hes a terryfing Gunslinger he has a second weapon of choice a boomerang with it taking and returning things to him he conducted mandy unbelivable robberies like stealing the golden eggs of Gooses Gulch.

Deadshot Aster,one of the best shots of the west as leader of his former gang of outlaw which was based in Spring Town.He was often called there the true mayor as he had all the power over those"eggheads"as he called them....He made many robberies...also in his earlier years he was a hitman one of the best infact but quit becuase he thought he was working for too little and started his own bussiness....also he was in charge of making Eggnog and Moonshine without paying tax or owning in his secret underground tunnels.....with this network he could apper anywhere in town without warning with his men.

He and Jack have quite a history together as he arrested him once and turned him over to the 7th cavalry company who put him in a maximum security prison only for him to tunnel out.

Also Jack was once one of his targets....while he failed to shoot him his boomerang hurt him hard and the incident with the Union Pacific Railroad....dont ask about it its personal for them...

Maverick Nick

Dragon Tooth

---------------------------------

Now i invite you to a journey to a land which boundaries are that of imagination!A story.....that you will not believe! Little does anyone know that a threat IS COMING!!!! Pitch while powerfull and dangerous....this....is far worse! There is far more at stake then just belief! (It was alluded to in certain offical rotg content) And will have some details about the past.

Find out on MARCH 27TH!!! WHO WILL SAVE US????? And what is this giant threat that will imperil everyone?

Part 1 ON MARCH 27TH!!!!(PROLOGUE 26TH)

-EARTHS GREATEST SECRETS WILL BE REVEALED!

CREDIT TO:https://www.deviantart.com/dragonauroralight FOR DRAWING

#dreamworks #rotg #rise of the guardians #jack frost #rotg jack frost #e. aster bunnymund #rotg bunnymund #western #wild west

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lonelypond · 9 months

Text

Warning Shot

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.8K, 1/?

Summary: An injured Yazawa Nico finds herself on the run from the notorious A-Rise gang. Headed toward Otonokizaki Falls, she first meets two children who will change her life.

The bullet pinged off the boulder to Yazawa Nico’s left. A chunk of granite flicked her cheek, liquid warmth telling her blood had been drawn. She spun, reaching for her Colt, but froze as she watched Tsubasa Kira hand her rifle to Todo Erena.

“You left the Wells Fargo driver alive.” Tsubasa spit, her right hand hovering over the grip of her pistol. “You’re that damn undercover marshall.”

“Nico is the Number One Bandit.” Nico couldn’t help the proud swagger as she posed.

A movement to Nico’s right showed her that Tsubasa’s other lieutenant, Yuki Anju, settling into a sniper’s position.

“That was your warning shot. The next one…”

Kosoka Honoka stepped in front of Tsubasa, arms up, “I was there too. We got the money; no reason to kill the stagecoach driver.”

“I ordered it.” Tsubasa stepped forward, “Out of my way. You’re cute, Kosaka, and new so I’ll forgive you for not knowing we take traitors seriously here.”

Honoka’s distraction had given Nico a minute to calculate an escape, the minute she needed. But a minute was all she needed. Yazawa forced Anju back into cover with a quick shot that kicked up dirt in her face.

Nico rolled over the rock, tossing a smoke bomb behind her, a high pitched whistle summoning her horse. She sprinted toward where Smiley would be approaching, determined to leave shouts behind her. Another shot, and a bulllet rushed by, too close for any ease. Grimacing, Nico continued in the direction where her horse should be running her way. She needed a bridle and a blanket saddle. Nico paused, small against a night full of danger. She’d need her rifle too. Tsubasa shouted confusing directions. Nico headed for where she had her saddle.

A quick close sound, a pinch in her side, an explosion of pain. Not a warning shot. Erena’s narrowed eyes looked surprised that Nico still stood. And then Erena was tilting, the tiny ginger speedster, Hoshizora Rin having clocked her with the butt of her Winchester. Nico’s horse, prepped with saddle and head bridle, neighed a greeting.

“Mount up and go, Nico-chan. I’ll send ‘em in the wrong direction.”

Nico nodded, hand pressed against the wound in her side. She’d do a more proper bandage once she got on horseback but for now a bandana and hard pressure was all she could manage. Mounting was one smooth motion. With a nod to Hoshizora, Nico headed Smiley toward the North. She’d heard rumors of a quiet town, immigrant built, near a cluster of waterfalls.

###

Sheriff Sonoda Umi sighed, tacking another wanted poster to the wall outside her office. These criminals were getting younger and younger. The latest, Nico Yazawa, looked like a teenager. How could someone with a face like that have committed crimes worthy of such a bounty. Umi squinted at the signature. Some bank manager who’d hired a rider to deliver the posters to all the towns in a 200 mile or so radius. Umi couldn’t imagine a criminal making their way here to the quiet of Otonokizaka Falls. There wasn’t even a full time banker. Three saloons, one general store, a seamstress, a blacksmith, a doctor, a barber, a laundry, livery stable, dry goods, carpenter, community hall, school house. Another town was closer to the mines so most of the shameless activities and businesses miner’s money attracted had grown up there, leaving the Falls a quiet, friendly town surrounded by ranchers and natural beauties, most of the visitors riding in either to see Doctor Nishikino or stay at the hotel and have their pictures taken at the Falls.

###

Daylight was louder, Nico Yazawa realized as she scrunched deeper into the bare warmth of her lined duster. The sun always seemed to give off its own music, a cloud driven rhythm that drove the harmony of creatures living their lives in full daylight. Nico was a nocturnal creature, here, under the silence of the slicing moon, a lone owl hooting, his baritone note a call for companionship. Nico’s horse shifted suddenly, Nico biting back a curse as the movement jostled her. The gunshot in her side needed attention. She didn’t need the pain stabbing her a reminder of that.

In the silence, she could almost hear hooves in pursuit. Surely her picture had been circulated by now, her betrayal complete, cut off by the A Rise gang as an easy target to cover their escape with two train cars worth of gold bullion.

Nico sighed. She needed food, rest, a place to water Smiley, a place to hide. She’d ridden out this far, searching for Otonokizaki Falls. Nico smiled at the thought of water rumbling, rushing, as a soothing wind rustled rough against cool green leaves. Must be a fever, Nico realized, water wouldn’t seem nearly so soothing otherwise. Tugging the reins gently, Nico guided Smiley to the easiest path down this mountain. Maybe by dawn they could be tucked into an unused outbuilding on some ranch.

###

“Slow down, Ruby!” 7 year old Dia Kurosawa worried about the speed at which 5 year old Ruby Kurosawa was racing toward a large black horse. What if her sister fell again? Their new mama, Doctor Maki, wasn’t due back for a day or two. Koizumi Hanayo was sweet and cooked much better than Mama, but if Ruby got hurt, Dia wanted Mama right there. At least until Mama let Dia have her own surgical bag.

Ruby stood in front of the large black horse now, bouncing on her toes, gingham dress flitting in the breeze, hand open, a contraband sugar cube on her palm. She must have pocketed it at breakfast. Dia dressed like her new mama most days, button down linen shirt and corduroys tucked into boots, a matching vest her only vanity. Mama wore wrinkled jackets and kept an open collar. Dia thought it looked messy. But Mama was always in motion, rolling up her sleeves, measuring out medicines, examining patients.

“Sis!!! He’s new. And so pretty.” Ruby was petting the horse’s neck, its head lowered.

“Be careful.” Dia walked quickly to her sister’s side. “He’s not from the herd.” Hanayo had a small herd of horses as well as sheep wandering her ranch, along with Juniper, her sheep dog.

“No. But he’s so nice.”

The horse took Dia’s sleeve, pulling her a little.

“I think he wants you to go with him, Sis.”

Dia was a little scared. It was a very big horse. But Ruby kept looking at the both of them with a total faith that Dia could not disappoint. She gently patted the horse’s neck as she leaned near an ear, “You better not bite me. My mama wouldn’t like that.”

The horse nickered, then snorted, continuing to pull.

“All right.” Dia nodded, her tone decisive.

“Are we going to ride?”

“No, Ruby. We don’t ride strange horses. Mama warned us.” Dia tapped the strange horse’s neck in an encouraging fashion and it took off at a trot.

“He’s taking us to the south barn.” Ruby said.

“There’s nothing there.”

“There’s some hay. Maybe he wants to eat.”

“Bzzzttt. He can’t steal hay.”

“What if he’s really hungry?”

“We’ll have to ask Hanayo.”

“Do you think he’s lost?”

Dia shrugged, hurrying to keep up with this visitor, Ruby’s hand clutched tightly in her own.

###

Voices. Children? Cotaro? Where was Nico? Nico opened her eyes to sunlight bright enough to make her groan. She remembered. She’d crawled into a small barn when the pain had become too much for riding. She was supposed to be gone by dawn so no one would discover she’d hidden out here. No sense bringing threats to some innocent rancher.

Nico sat up, her side throbbing, her head aching. She needed water. Where was Smiley? She’d left him with a loose tie; he must have worked himself free. She could see where he’d helped himself to hay. She’d have to leave some money.

“Smiley?” Nico winced at how raspy her voice sounded, as she pulled herself up to stand in the stall she’d fallen asleep in, under her saddle blanket, the Sharps rifle by her side. She picked it up to check. Unloaded. Nico wasn’t going to take chances around children.

“BZZZTTT!” A hissing sound, “Drop that. Now.”

A very young, very determined voice shouted at Nico, who slowly placed her rifle to the side, then raised her hands in the air. Two children stood in front of her, a tiny one with red hair hiding behind a dark haired one dressed like a junior banker.

“Nico is a friend.”

“Is that your horse?” The redhead asked.

“Yes. He’s very friendly. Just like Nico.”

“He’s pretty. I fed him sugar.”

“He likes sugar.” The junior banker interrupted, “Why are you here?”

“Nico needed a place to sleep. And Smiley needed breakfast. We’ll be going now.” Nico could feel her energy fading. Where was Smiley? She could use his solidity right now. “You look pale. When Mama sees people like you they have to stay in bed.”

Nico didn’t have time to make sense of that statement. Or the time for it to be true. “Nico can’t stay in anyone’s bed. No matter how nice your mama is.” “Mama’s a doctor.” The banker said, each word carrying serious weight.

“Oh.” Nico cringed at any implication that might have been…but surely that child couldn’t be more than six or seven. “What’s your name?”

“Dia Kurosawa. This is my sister, Ruby.” “Hi!” Ruby squeaked cutely as she got nudged from behind by a Smiley who’d decided to join them.

“Nice to meet you, Dia, Ruby. Nico has to go.” Nico, using the top edge of the stall as an aid, pulled herself toward her wandering horse, “C’mere, boy.” It felt like only two more steps and then she would collapse.

“Sit.” Dia pushed her, knocking Nico’s side.

“Ksssshhhh” Nico hissed through gritted teeth, hitting the ground, letting the stall wall hold her up. She’d have to get help. The wound needed tending to. Maybe this doctor could actually do something. Nico heard rumors about women doctors coming West after graduating with actual medical degrees, unlike some of the frauds who’d mistreated people she knew.

“Go get your Mama.”

“She’s not here.”

“Is there someone else?” “Hanayo. She lets us stay here when Mama’s busy. Do you want to stay?”

“Thank you, Ruby. Nico does.”

“Ooh!” Ruby started to run off.

“Wait for me!” Dia shouted after her sister, then turned back to Nico, “You wait.”

“Nico’s not going anywhere, kid.”

Serious green eyes considered Nico’s statement, examining her expressions, then Dia nodded. “We’ll be back.”

Leaning her head back, biting her lip to swallow a pained shout, Nico groaned, “Nico’ll be right here, kid.”

A/N: Does Time surge or swirl? Doing some Yeehawgust prompts to jumpstart writing and because I've always loved Western themes. Cheers.

#NicoMaki #Yeehawgust #Warning Shot #Can't resist a Western #still need a new Stetson #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Sonoda Umi #Kurosawa Dia #Kurosawa Ruby #Dia and Ruby are orphans Maki found #A Rise #Kousaka Honoka #Hoshizora Rin #Kira Tsubasa #Wild West #Western AU #saddle up

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