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dilf-din · 9 months

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Yeehawgust Day 1: Gather the Posse

Cowboy!TLOU AU

WC: 1550

Characters: Sarah, Joel, Tommy, Tess, and a surprise guest

Rating: T

Warnings: gun violence, language, David is a creep, author was not a horse girl

A/N: hi friends! Happy Yeehawgust! I’ve got big plans for this month and the prompts we were given. I can’t promise to post every day, but I will do my best! I’ll create a section in my masterlist for all the fics I post this month. Enjoy this little Miller fam beat down that @ellies-little-gun helped me workshop 🤠

Shit. Shit shit shit. Of course the one night she needed him, he decided to head home early. Sarah cursed once more as the door to the sheriff’s office slammed shut behind her. Her boots pounded down the faded white steps into the dusty street below. Her palomino mare whinnied from the post she was tied to, her coat a few shades lighter than the red dirt beneath Sarah’s boots.

“We’ve gotta go find daddy, Harlow,” Sarah explained swinging herself up and into the saddle. Dust flew in a steady stream behind them as they raced to the whitewashed cabin on the edge of town. Every cloud that rose from Harlow’s hooves gave them away like a breadcrumb trail. The sun had faded into a blood red pinprick on the horizon behind her leaving them with nothing but navy skies and a quickly descending chill in the air. Goosebumps danced down her arms as the last rays of warmth retired for the evening.

“Don’t take your eye off her,” she had hissed at Tommy before hurrying out to find Joel. She knew the girl would be safe for now, but if David and his men made a move, there was no way he’d be able to hold them all off alone. She was racing the clock, making every second and stride count.

Within minutes, the grey roof of their homecame into view. She quickly made out Tess’s figure taking their linens down from the line Joel had carefully strung up for them. The white of the sheets was as bright as the stars coming into view with dusk’s arrival.

“Whoa, slow down,” Tess said, holding a hand out and catching Harlow’s chest as the pair came to a stop, a sheen of foam and sweat visible on the mare’s coat from the ride.

“Is dad inside?”

“Yeah, what’s goin’ on?”

Sarah practically flew up the steps, her hat falling off of her curls and hanging around her neck by a thick, leather cord.

The front door was open, leaving only the screen door to separate their living space from the swarm of summer bugs. With Tess on her heels, Sarah entered the house and looked around for her father. He was at the kitchen table propped up by an elbow, a decanter of bourbon uncorked beside him, his boots set neatly in front of his aching feet.

“Might wanna put those back on,” she said gesturing to his boots as she pulled her shotgun down from the rack beside the door.

“Now hold on, what happened baby?”

“That orphan girl we’ve been seein’ around town? She’s at the saloon tonight. David’s been giving her the eye. I was up there with Uncle Tommy. He’s on it for now, but I don’t like where it’s headed.”

“I’ll grab the horses,” Tess nodded after exchanging a quick glance with Joel.

In a second, he had pulled his boots back on and was beside Sarah.

“You know we can’t go in there guns blazing on a whim,” he said with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“He’s not layin’ a finger on her without losin’ a hand,” Sarah said icily, her jaw set in the same way his did when he had his mind set on something.

Joel nodded and followed her out the door.

Back at the saloon, Tommy sat in the corner sipping a mug of beer, eyes carefully following the situation unfolding in front of him. The girl was at the bar with her back turned to the buzzing room. She was scarfing down a plate of food that Sarah had slipped the bartender a few coins for. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, wiry frame, wide brown eyes, disheveled curls sticking out every which way. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen, he reasoned.

It started with a whisper, an almost imperceptible smile across his snakelike features. The red headed man had gestured at her with his pale blue eyes, pointing her out to the taller brunette man always at his right side. Everyone in town knew David’s reputation, the way women disappeared with him never to be seen again. Joel had spent the last several months hunting down a gang of raiders who had been picking off of their herds leaving David and his men to terrorize the townspeople. He wasn’t happy about it, but it was what it was for the time being. He had been waiting for a chance to wrap his hands around that man’s neck.

Tommy sat tight lipped as he saw David push back from his table and start making his way to the bar where the girl sat. Words falling like honey covered venom fell from his tongue as he placed a hand on the small of her back. A chill ran up her spine from the touch, causing Tommy to shift his weight on his stool. He slammed back the rest of his beer, readying himself to approach and intervene. The girl ducked and pulled her head away, no doubt trying to avoid his rancid breath, each exhale laced with the smell of death and alcohol. Tommy saw a glint in his eye he could’ve sworn was a vertical slit, fangs bared to strike in the low light of the saloon. He took a deep breath and strutted over, leaning onto the bar and enveloping the girl in his shadow. She shot him a look that was half thankful and half terrified.

“What’re you doin’ Miller? Stickin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong again?”

“That’s your favorite pastime, innit?” Tommy smiled, thick mustache curling up over his lip.

“Eat shit,” David spat at him, turning his attention back to the girl, “Where were we darlin’?”

“You were telling me about your massive house and all your riches,” she said in an unimpressed tone, still trying to wriggle her shoulder out of his grasp. Tommy didn’t even bother to hide his chuckle.

“Enough chit chat, let’s go get you cleaned up,” he said firmly, trying to tug her from the bar stool.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, creep ass,” she elbowed him hard in the ribs and made a run for the door.

Tommy grasped David on the shoulder to hold him in place, but two of his men followed her out without her knowing.

“Sorry,” Tommy said.

“What for?”

“This,” he slammed the man’s face into the bar nose first and rushed towards the exit without waiting to see the aftermath. Tommy wove through the raucous room, dodging drunk patrons and red lipped waitresses. He burst through the double doors shoulder first to find the space in front of the building empty save a gaggle of horses tied up by the water trough.

“Get off, you motherfucker!” he heard the sound of the kid, her teeth gritted coming from the alley between the saloon and the post office.

Everything that was about to transpire would happen in a matter of seconds.

Joel, Tess, and Sarah thundered up to the front of the saloon, dismounting quickly as David stumbled out the door with blood pouring down his nose and chin, coating his teeth. Tommy ducked into the alleyway after the girl. The two men were blocking her exit from the way she came with one more bringing up the rear. The one behind her was James, David’s top guy. She backed into him with a start and whipped a switchblade out jabbing it between two of his ribs.

The attack caught him off guard, sending him to his knees. Tommy took the opportunity to tackle one of her other assailants, slamming him into the wall. Joel was beside him in a second connecting his fist with the other man’s jaw. Tommy could tell by the glint of moonlight out of the corner of his eye that his brother had slipped his brass knuckles on on the way here.

“Nice.”

“Thanks,” Joel huffed.

Out front, Sarah wasted no time stopping David from joining the fray. While he staggered down the steps, she hoisted her rifle up and slammed it against his neck, pinning him to the wall.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” she snarled.

“None of your fucking business,” he strained.

“What are you doin’ trying to pick up little kids?” Tess asked with her lip turned up in disgust.

“Oh I’ve got big plans for her,” he smiled, yellow teeth stained red from the blood that was still pouring.

“Wrong answer,” Tess said casually, lazily raising her revolver to fire a round straight into his knee.

He howled in pain while Sarah strengthened her hold on the length of the rifle to make sure he didn’t budge.

Back in the alley, Tommy drew his revolver and alternated aiming it at the three goons they had disarmed.

“Why don’t y’all get out of here ‘fore things get uglier?” he suggested, a fake sympathetic smile on his face.

The three men blinked at him wordlessly until he fired a warning shot into the dirt at their feet, and they scrambled away like a pack of scared dogs. When Tommy turned around, Joel was on one knee talking to the kid.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt ya,” he said softly. “I’m Joel, I’m the sheriff. What’s your name?”

“Ellie.”

Taglist: @ellliemilller

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2023 #gather the posse #Yeehawgust fic #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller #sarah miller #tommy miller #tess servopoulos

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dop2nz · 8 months

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#Yeehawgust 2023: "Gather the Posse"

"Why in the hell are you herdin' all these cats?"

"Well, Sheriff, you said to 'gather the pussies....'"

"I said POSSE, you dimwit!"

Better late than never!

#yeehawgust 2023 #gather the posse #funny pics #photoshoppery #RDR2 #cats #herding cats #joke #pun

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waywardwizzard · 9 months

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A bell rang through the morning air, sounding like a death toll.

The door to the Mayor of Newance's office swung open and Captain Malcolm Reynolds stepped out, his hand on his gun. Two men rushed past, shotguns slung over their shoulders. He frowned and went to follow them.

He found Zoë leaning against a weather beaten well near the town square. A large crowd was gathering, most of them with weapons, some of them with pitchforks and the sheriff was standing in the middle of it all, his shotgun held high.

Jayne was nowhere to be found.

"What's goin' on?"

"Sheriff's gatherin' a posse."

Zoë glared at a man who passed too close. He clutched his gun to his chest and hurried away. She pitched her voice lower. "There's talk of fugitives out in the woods."

"Zao gao."

Mal took a deep breath and counted to ten in English. Then in Chinese. Then, again, in English. It didn't help as much as it should have.

"I sent Jayne ahead to warn Serenity. I have a feelin' we'll be needin' a quick get-away."

While the sheriff went on, the crowd hanging on his ever word, Mal gestured for Zoë to follow him. They walked down a quiet side street, away from the busy town square, and took another street that led to the woods. Mal smiled at an old woman who immediately gave him a suspicious look.

"Would it be too much to hope that it ain't our fugitives galavantin' out in the woods?" Mal murmured, walking faster.

Serenity's first mate gave him a wry look. "I think we both know the answer to that, sir."

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Author's note

Howdy y'all! Warning. Most, if not all, of my writing will be bad. Bad enough you'll probably want to gouge your eyes out while you're reading it. And all (ok, lie, most of it), is written and edit in two small 20 minute breaks and the little bit of energy I have left at the end of the day. I don't have a beta reader (unless you count my friend but they're more like an alpha reader) and English isn't my first language. But, I still want to see my writing somewhere else that isn't the notes app I use for Everything. Like I said. It probably won't be good. It will probably be wonky and weird and stunted and not at all in the right format (like me) but sometimes doing things out of your comfort zone will lead to something that can only be described as great.

I just hope that last sentence is true.

#yeehawgust #firefly #fugitives #malcolm reynolds #zoe washburne #fanfiction #gather the posse #found family i guess??#serenity #firefly fanfiction #browncoats #you can't take the sky from meeee #yeehawgust day 1 #space western #browncoats unite #browncoat for life

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manndelion · 9 months

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the day slipped away from me so i didn't see this to the level of completion that i wanted to. ah, well. on to the next one!

#gather the posse #yeehawgust 2023 #yeehawgust #wip #sketches #verdensunder gang #Aleksanteri (Alexander) Verdensunder #Dailan MacMahon #Chay MacMahon #The MacMahon Twins #Samuel Lockheart #Emma Willis #Lester Milton #Awaya Adisi

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boosheetghostboo · 9 months

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Yeehawgust Backlog day 1

#yeehawgust #gather the posse #oc abel #oc adam #oc jane #oc art #oc daniel

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piddgeon · 9 months

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Yeehawgust Day 1: Gather The Posse

(poem vaguely inspired by RDR2)

it doesn’t feel like running.

even when the law is right on his tail, it doesn’t feel like running.

all that matters is the thundering of hooves

and the churning dust of the road

and the wind in his hair.

all that matters is the folk he rides with.

his mentors and his brothers

his partner

and his brothers and sisters in arms.

their whoops and cheers are on the air and it doesn’t feel like running.

it feels like freedom.

#yeehawgust 2023 #I’ve never done this before but #lets go!#had an actual story I wanted to write but #words weren’t wording #so poetry it is #gather the posse

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s0ym1lk · 9 months

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Yeehawgust 2023 - Chapter 1: Gather the Posse / We Ride at Dawn

I thought it would be fun to write for Yeehawgust this year! I'm going for a short story/novella based on the daily prompts. Hoping to have each section out every day or every other day, but we'll see how it goes. And I may possible move some of the prompts around, depending on how they fit into the story. I am writing this by the seat of my pants; nobody knows what's going to happen in it, least of all me. Let's get riding!

There was milk on the floor of the bar. That was the only thing occupying Buck Grady’s mind during the fight. The air conditioning in the bar had stopped working two weeks ago, and in the span of thirty minutes, that milk would stink to high heaven; there’d probably be some blood on top of it within the next few minutes, though Buck didn’t know if that would make the situation better or worse.

Someone slammed into the front of the bar. Buck could feel the reverberations in his spine where he was tucked up next to the hooch. It was where he always hid when a fight broke out, which was roughly once a week. Gave him plenty of practice in the art of duck and cover, as well as ensuring he had the number for the police station memorized. The sound of something shattering came from behind, and he reached for the bottle of whiskey next to him with a sighed and swallowed a slug.

“Quit dancing away like some little fairy, short man! Get over here and take a punch!” a deep voice roared. There was more crashing and the meaty sound of flesh thudding into flesh.

The piano up to that point had still been playing, adding to the cacophony assaulting Buck’s ears. It got worse when it stopped. Buck hunkered in even further, clutching the whiskey to his chest. For a long, terrible moment, there was dead silence.

“You think you’re faster than me, you little shitheel?” came the deep voice again. “Well then, let’s find out!”

The gunshot came so fast after his words they were almost simultaneous. Buck waited for another shot, but nothing came. There was only a rustle and then a soft thud as something large collapsed to the floor.

He waited to hear voices before he uncurled from his hiding place and cautiously poked his head over the bartop. A body lay on the floor in the puddle of milk. Another figure stood in front of it, gun still drawn. Behind the body, three men were locked in a staring contest with the man holding the gun. Buck could practically see the twitch in their hands, wanting to draw from their holsters, but it would have been suicide; with a gun already pointed at them, at least one of them would get shot before they could so much as touch the pistol grip.

“Your friend made a miscalculation. I suggest you do your math a little more carefully.” the man with the gun said. He didn’t sound particularly concerned, but perhaps it was the drawl that covered up the tone.

The men’s eyes darted to the body on the floor. Then, almost as one, they backed up, cursing, and stumbled out of the bar.

Only when the door was swung completely shut did the man holster his gun. The moment he did, figures emerged from behind upturned tables and out of the far rooms of the bar to gawk at the scene. People in Digger’s End didn’t have much of a sense of self-preservation; shootouts happened too often for them to. From the far end, the pianist re-appeared at the keys and began playing again. Like the customers, it took a lot to lever him from his seat. When he stopped playing, it was only because guns had appeared, and when he started again Buck always knew it was safe to come back out.

Buck was already on the phone to the station when the man with the gun appeared in his vision and slid onto one of the barstools just in front of him. Behind him, the bar’s patrons were acting like the body on the floor didn’t exist. One woman, in blue skirts with ribbons the color of ivory in her dark hair, stepped over the body as if it were merely a pile of horse dung in the road.

Buck eyed him warily, but the man didn’t make any threatening gestures. In fact, he looked away politely while Buck spoke, as people did when they were attempting to give you the illusion of privacy in a public place.

“Yeah, just the one dead. Can you come pick him up? No, sorry, I don’t know what happened to the man who shot him. He took off just as soon as he could.”

At this, the man’s eyes slid over, one brow raised. Whatever he saw in Buck’s face didn’t reflect. He looked away again.

“I apologize for the disturbance.” he said when Buck hung up the phone. Surprisingly, he did actually sound remorseful. Remorseful and tired; when Buck glanced at his face, the circles under his eyes seemed somehow bigger, his color more pallid, than before the fight had started. “I can pay for the damages.”

“Oh, it’s going on your bill.” Buck said drily. “But it weren’t your fault, so I can’t be too upset. The Bingley boys are a piece of work. When word gets around, you’ll be fighting off free drinks with a stick.” He poured them both a shot of whiskey and pushed one over to the man, who took it with a quick smile. He threw it back with the ease of the practiced. Buck didn’t watch the line of his neck as it happened.

“You know, the sad thing is, I do actually like milk.” the man continued once he’d set the shot glass down. “I drank gallons of it as a kid. If it made you taller, I’d be the tallest man in the world.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Buck said ruefully. The bar had been shorter once. Then he’d almost lost his head to a stray bullet, and Buck had replaced it with something that could adequately shield his gangly frame. “Those short arms seem to make you quicker on the draw, anyway. Old boy over there didn’t even clear leather.”

The man gave him a crooked smile. “That’s Mr. Short Arms to you, my friend. Now, can I trouble you to help me rack up my tab before the boys in blue show up?”

Buck woke coughing, the taste of smoke thick and suffocating on his tongue. When he tried to open his eye, a searing burst of pain made them water immediately. Cursing, he tried to kick the sheet over his hips off and fell to the floor in a heap.

Being low to the ground helped moderately with the smoke, but Buck knew it wouldn’t last long. As quickly as he could, he dragged himself to the door of his room and felt it with the back of his palm. It was warm, but not hot. He reached up blindly for the lock, flipped it open, and crawled out into the hallway.

The smoke was thick as mud along the hall of rooms, so much that Buck could barely see a foot ahead of him. Crackling and the sound of wood collapsing echoed down. Then, a different sounding thud and a string of curses.

“To your right!” Buck choked out. “Get to the staircase to your right!”

He couldn’t be sure that whoever was there had heard him, but he heard the low drag of someone crawling and figured he’d done as much as he could. He needed to get out himself before he passed out.

It was a terrifying minute as he crawled as quickly as he could towards the staircase. Years of experience led him there where his eyes couldn’t; the hallway had become a completely different place, a hellscape of black and grey. Buck put his hand out and caught a bare patch of skin rather than the floor. The person he’d grabbed jolted and kicked his hand away.

Buck was too scared to even feel the pain. The floor was starting to get warm under his hands and knees. “Staircase is just to your left! Quick!”

The figure in front of him continued down the hallway, Buck right on his tail, close enough to almost get clocked in the jaw by his foot. When he reached the stairway, the figure flipped around to go down feet first, but before he could so much as put a toe on the first stair, there was a roar, and a tongue of flame came thundering up the stairwell. The figure lurched back and into Buck.

“First floor’s already on fire.” the figure said. This close, Buck recognized him – it was the man who’d shot the Bingley boy. He’d paid for a night in one of the bar’s rooms after a few hefty glasses of whiskey. He hadn’t offered his name, and per the house rules, Buck hadn’t asked for it. “We can’t get out that way.”

Shit. There was no other staircase down. The only option was -

“Back the way we came! There’s a window at the end of the hall!” Buck coughed out. He spun around and took off back down the hall as fast as he could go.

The air was no longer clear down by the floor, and the roar of fire was deafening in his ears. The floor had gotten as hot as a boulder at high noon and stung his hands and bare knees as he crawled. He was so focused on reaching the end of the hall he slammed headfirst into the wall and nearly knocked himself out. Clutching his head, he fumbled over the window, caught the latch, and threw the window open.

Mr. Short Arms jumped to his feet and leaned out the window, wheezing. Buck did the same. The fresh air seared his smokey lungs. Below, a crowd had started to form and Buck could hear the staccato melody of a rattle watchman, but there was no sign yet of the water wagon, and none of the bystanders were coming anywhere near the bar. Instead, they had made a line at the rattle watch’s direction and were passing buckets of water to the barber shop and the mercantile on either side, trying to wet them enough that they wouldn’t catch fire too.

“We can’t jump this.” Mr. Short Arms said grimly, looking down at the ground below. He was right; the bar on the ground floor had a high ceiling, so even though the rooms were on the second floor, they were three stories up. They would probably survive if they jumped, but not with intact bodies.

“Shit. I don’t have a ladder or anything. There’s another window on the other end, but it’s the same as this one.”

“I can solve this problem.” said a voice from behind them. Buck and Mr. Short Arms turned. A woman stood behind them, handkerchief pressed to her mouth. Either she had taken the time to dress or she’d already been dressed when the fire started; unlike Buck, who was in boxers only, and Mr. Short Arms, who had on shirtsleeves and a pair of longjohns, she looked as if she was out for a stroll on the town.

“Move.” she said to the two of them, pushing through to the window. Without ceremony, she turned and sat on the windowsill, tucked the handkerchief neatly into her decolletage, and then grabbed the two men. Mr. Short Arms got a small hand twisted into the collar of his undershirt; for Buck she buried a hand in his hair and gripped, so tight Buck thought his scalp was going to rip off.

“I’m going to get out of the way and you two are going to sit on the windowsill. On the count of three, you’re going to throw yourselves out the window. No questions.” As she was talking, the woman had been wriggling backwards until she fell out of the window. Mr. Short Arms snatched a hand out and caught her elbow, but she didn’t seem concerned about falling. Strangely, she wasn’t that heavy either, despite her tenuous grip on the two of them.

“Stop wasting time.” she snapped. “Legs out the window or you’re going to die.”

Too dumbfounded to question, Buck slung one long leg out the window and then carefully swung the other over. Mr. Short Arms tried to copy him, but the window was too small; he could only get one leg out and sit astride the windowsill, hips tucked flush against Buck’s thigh. He tried shift and nearly knocked Buck off the sill.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” the woman snarled. With no warning whatsoever, she planted one heeled foot into the wall of the bar and yanked the two of them out of the window. Buck screamed as he fell forward – and then blinked in confusion.

They weren’t falling. Instead, a warm swirl of breeze pressed against them, and the three of them floated gently down to the ground. It was the strangest feeling; the air didn’t feel supportive at all, but still they didn’t fall. Their feet landed as soft as moth’s wings in the dirt.

Then the woman let go of Buck’s hair, and he collapsed in a heap, wheezing.

It was a long moment before he clamored to his feet, and it took the arrival of the water wagon to prompt it. The wagon ignored the bar completely and set up to the left to hose down the barber shop; the line of bucket passers shifted to the other side to keep wetting the mercantile. One fireman in heavy

wool raced over to where Buck was struggling to stand. Buck recognized him – George Wiggins, the hostler down the road.

“Anyone left in the bar, Buck?” he asked urgently. Buck shook his head, trying to think how many rooms he’d rented out. There was Mr. Short Arms, the woman, and – had there been two more?

Buck glanced around and caught sight of a woman in a sleeping bonnet buried in the arms of a thickly mustached man. His heart jumped with relief.

“They’re all out. Those two were the only other guests.” he told Wiggins, pointing at the couple. Wiggins gave him a short salute and jogged back to the water wagon.

It took nearly an hour for the fire to die down enough that the crowd had mostly dispersed and the water wagon began rolling up its hoses. It was so late into the night that the first rays of dawn had appeared on the horizon, replacing the flames of the bar fire with its bloody red streaks. That was enough time for Buck, who had long since given up on standing, to come to terms with what had happened.

His bar was gone. His bar was burned down to the ground, with everything he owned inside it. The only thing he had left was a pair of boxer shorts.

“Shit.” he said to no one in particular. “Shit. What am I – what do I -”

Mr. Short Arms had disappeared at some point. Buck hadn’t been coherent enough to notice, but when he reappeared, his face was creased and serious. He crouched down in front of Buck, still in his long johns with his bare feet streaked with grime, and held something out to him.

“We’ve got a real problem.” he said solemnly.

Buck took the item automatically before his brain had caught up with what it was. The waxed canvas bundle was tied shut with a leather thong that had been scorched enough to snap in two. Buck already knew what he would find, but he untied it anyway. The red clay, snake blood, and yucca flowers had dried up into a smear of dark, gritty paste on the inside of the canvas.

“Someone set this fire. Someone – who would -” he looked up into Mr. Short Arm’s eyes and understood.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, but it’s all I’ve got.” the man said softly. “I didn’t meant to bring any trouble down on you.”

Gingerly, Buck set the bundle aside. His head felt stuffed with cotton. Everything felt strangely distant; he noticed with bland attention that his body was covered with goosebumps, but no part of him registered the cold that produced it.

“I -” he tried, and got nowhere. Mr. Short Arms, still crouched in front of him, turned his hand to the side, then quick as a snake grabbed Buck’s arm and hauled him to his feet.

“I don’t think the trouble’s over, either. Come on.”

Buck glanced over to the side and saw a trio of men standing in the remains of the crowd, looking to the left and the right. Bingley boys. Two of them had been in the bar last night. The third was new. None looked friendly.

“I think the two of you were supposed to die in that fire.” came a voice from Buck’s right side. The woman in ribbons who had floated them down to the ground reappeared. She looked as equally unfussed by the idea that they were being hunted by a trio of murderers as she had standing in a burning building. “Do you have a plan?”

“My horse is at the hostler down the way. I think getting out of town for a few days is the best bet.” Mr. Short Arms replied. The woman nodded.

“As is mine. If you don’t mind company, I’d like to ride along.” she shot a glance at Mr. Short Arms. “As it was, I’d hoped to engage your services, Mr. Robbins, and I’m willing to wait until you’ve tied up this loose end.”

Someone shouted behind them. The three of them turned their heads as a unit. Someone was pointing in their direction.

“We’ll figure all this out later.” Mr. Shorty concluded. “For now, let’s get a move on before we all get shot.”

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2023 #original fiction #gather the posse #we ride at dawn #anybody know what the heavy-handed reference in this section is?

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baubeautyandthegeek · 9 months

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The Gang Comes Together - Burt Gummer/Heather Gummer, Kate Riley/Earl Bassett, Rhonda LeBeck/Val McKee, Nancy Sterngood.

A/N: Day 1 of @yeehawgust , here’s some more simple little @thetremorssaga goodness. Totally G rated.

Burt will never explain why he and Heather took in the two boys who helped out the first time the graboids came around. Nancy and Mindie had moved into their shared home soon after the first incident, the concrete boundaries newly laid helped a lot and even as Mindie slept Nancy settled with Heather and Burt, learning how to protect herself better. Val of course had been the first to come back, buying up an empty home and asking Burt’s help to settle the house and make it Graboid proof. He’d smiled when Burt walked him through the new finds, nodding and setting to work. Rhonda had settled in easily, working as both the local science tutor and a travelling scientist. Earl had returned later, Kate tucked quietly into his side, steady but clearly a little wary of meeting so many of his friends at once. Burt had smirked slightly at her, moving to wrap an arm around her shoulder when Earl and Val broke off to talk, steering her towards first Heather, who had come home only when she heard Nancy was homeless now, and Nancy, then Rhonda. Rhonda had smiled as she greeted Kate, discussing science easily with Kate, smiling when Kate relaxed a little, her laugh warm when Kate muttered about getting way too used to smelling like graboid guts. “That happens… just let it. You can always come shower when the day’s done.” “You guys have showers… that work?” “Yeah, Burt’s kinda smart like that.” Rhonda shrugs and Kate laughs. “Sounds good to me…” “You guys got a house yet?” “No…” “Get the feeling the reason Val got us such a big one is so you guys can move in…” “Is that okay with you?” “Sure, why not… at least I wouldn’t be just listening to Val pine for his best friend.” Kate had laughed again then shrugged. “At least now we can work together too, right?” “I’d love that.” Rhonda agrees with a smile. It's a fresh start, and one she sorely needs, thinks Kate. The ‘posse’ of friends Burt had mentioned turned out just right. Although she wonders if this is all she had to meet or if more might show up.

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rdrmybeloved · 9 months

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Yeehawgust 2023 - Gather The Posse

Harper sighed harshly, looking around their small camp with a grumble. Four tents stood tall in the sun, spreading welcomed shade across the dry earth. Her gang and friends cheered around the seats of the empty fire, but she stood alone outside of her and Amy’s shared tent.

She looked towards her gang, searching for that familiar face. Amy was sitting the furthest from Harper, elegantly framed by their other friends. She had laughed at some story Nathan was telling, and Harper smiled slightly at the endearing noise. But it faded as Nathan’s arm snaked its way around Amy’s waist, pulling her in as he got more invested in his tale. Harper scoffed.

A rumbling bellow came from her left, and Harper spun to find the creature making the noise. It was Golden Gun, her allosaurus. He was just up the small rise, laying in a patch of soft grass with the rest of the gang’s dinosaurs. Harper smiled, and this time it didn’t fade as she made her way up the slight hill to where their carnivorous mounts resided. Golden bellowed again, and Harper swiftly bent down to his large head and scratched around his chin and cheek bones gently. Golden grumbled in delight, rolling himself onto his side.

Harper giggled.

Golden purred.

She kept scratching along his scales in all his favourite spots, laughing and smiling all the way. Eventually, she found that one spot on his neck, and Golden started kicking his leg like a maniac, his tongue lolling and his tail flicking in happiness. Harper hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.

* * * * *

Amy listened idly, smiling and nodding along to Nathan’s retelling of their latest little robbery. He made a poke at Amy fumbling with her gun, and he pulled her close. She startled slightly as Nathan bumped into her side, but laughed as she thought back to the memory. Her, Nathan, and Harper, had gone out to a little homestead that was rumoured to have stacks of cash sitting and waiting in there. They had arrived, and it was buzzing with some lowlifes. They had paused, hiding in the tree line, before Harper had scoffed, spun out from the tree she was pressed against and in one smooth moment had very attractively raised her rifle up and took the first shot. Amy, in her daze, spent longer than she should have staring at Harper’s muscles as she used her rifle.

She was knocked out of her reminiscing by Nathan making another joke, but she paid no mind, was that laughter she could hear?

It was coming from where their mounts were resting. Was it Harper? It was beautifully melodic.

Quietly, Amy excused herself, and carefully made her way up to the sunny spot their dinosaurs rested in. And there was Harper, surrounded by seven snoozing carnivores, and focusing on the eighth, her allosaurus. Golden Gun was thriving in the attention, and Amy could have melted on the spot. Harper, who Amy had come up from behind, was on her knees, cooing and giggling as she showered Golden in attention. Amy’s own dinosaur, a young acrocanthosaurus called Phrancis, lifted her head when she noticed Amy sneakily approaching. Amy panicked and made a wild, waving gesture trying to signal ‘Put your head back down!’. Praying Phrancis wouldn’t unintentionally rat her out to Harper, she backed away a few steps. Phrancis shrugged her off.

Well, she tried to back away, at least. Amy bumped into something that definitely wasn’t there before, and let out a quiet gasp that got caught in her throat and produced an awkward noise. She looked up, craning her neck to meet the friendly, blue eyes of Alex.

“What are you doin’ here!?” Amy whispered as she whipped around, sounding harsher than she intended. Alex put his hands up in a sign of mercy.

“Was seeing who’s having a laughing fit, is all.” He chuckled, unfazed by her tone. “We’re all curious, but I’ll leave you to continue spying on your girl.”

“Hey!” Amy shouted before slapping a hand over her mouth. Alex snorted and Amy threw a finger in his face, flustered, and started whisper-yelling. “She isn’t my- She’s…”

God, what were they? Amy was very fond of Harper… but there was no way Harper felt the same.

“Whatever!” Amy scoffed, still whisper-yelling. She let her body relax a bit, before suddenly seeing everyone else watching from their seats around the unlit campfire. Heads swivelled as she looked their way.

Alex cut her off before she could say anything, “I told you, we’re all curious about who was laughing, and now we can tell it’s Harper. You know as well as I do she’s been down lately. And we’ve all noticed. No need to be defensive, we’re all friends here.” He chastised gently. That much was true. Harper’s mind wasn’t kind to her often, and to overhear her giggle like this almost made Amy breathless.

As the conversation lulled, Harper’s laughter floated across the breeze and down into the posse’s camp. Amy smiled and breathed deeply. Alex patted her back. Silently, they walked together up the rise and headed towards their own mounts, paying no mind to Harper lest they wanted to embarrass her away from them. Amy settled against Phrancis, leaning against the chest of the bulky theropod. She smiled gently to Harper, who gave her a quizzical, but friendly smile from where she sat with Golden.

Amy looked over to her left, watching Alex focus on his Carnotaurus, Felicity. She hummed slightly, settling to watch the horizon. Her eyes soon fell shut as the rest of their posse migrated over to relax as well.

With the posse gathered together, quiet murmuring to purring dinosaurs filled the air.

* * * * *

Please enjoy my dino-cowboy ocs, I know this is a red dead blog and they aren't red dead BUT i will probably have some rdr stuff done over yeehawgust so its all getting posted here.

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2023 #gather the posse #oc #oc writing

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