#red dog saloon

[gameraboy2]

Red Dog Saloon, Juneau, Alaska

#red dog saloon #juneau #alaska #vintage #postcard #vintage postcard

[yourcoffeeguru]

RED DOG SALOON Juneau Alaska Ceramic Coaster w Cork Back || SWtradepost

#drink coaster #coaster #ceramic coaster #barware #man cave #rec dog saloon ceramic coaster #red dog saloon #juneau alaska souvenir #travel souvenir

[fonttown]

Master font list (Toontown Online)

User Interface

Impress BT

Mickey + Minnie

VT Portable Remington

Nametags (and shop signs)

Legend: Font name — "In-game name"

Aftershock ITC — "Shivering"

Alie — "Poetic"

Comedy — "Zany"

CC Danger Girl — "Action"

Hasty Pudding — "Silly"

Doris PP — "Practical"

Ironwork ITC — "Fancy"

Jiggery Pokery ITC — "Wonky"

Musicals — "Whimsical"

Oyster Bar BTN — "Boardwalk"

Portago ITC — "Nautical"

Red Dog Saloon — "Western"

Scurlock — "Spooky"

Promotional Media

Ashley Crawford

House-A-Rama Kingpin

Wichita Bold

#fonttown #toontown #toontown online

[margowritesthings]

RED DEAD REDEMPTION

⥽SERIES/UNIVERSES⥼

➵ Romeo and Juliet smut, 18+, you're an O'Driscoll, who has captured the attention of one Arthur Morgan

➵The Meaning of the Scar crossover, the tales that take place after Arthur Morgan's death, when he becomes an undead Hand of God, hunting down the supernatural

➵ Te Beroya star wars au, mandalorian!bountyhunter!Arthur, you're an outlaw, on the run across the galaxy from powerful crime families. the bounty hunter Arthur Morgan is after you.

➵ The Greatest Gift fluff, smut, some parts 18+, you give Arthur the greatest gift he could receive: his daughter

➵ Mob AU smut, 18+, Alternate Universe, Arthur Morgan runs a club in the city of Saint Denis, you're the wife he is absolutely devoted to

⥽STANDALONES⥼

➵ Good Girl - part 1 | part 2 smut, 18+, you're riding with Arthur, never realising just how peculiar he speaks to his horse

➵ Bite Me smut, 18+, vampire AU, Arthur needs to feed, but you're trapped, and it's just the two of you...

➵ Fate: A Word Meaning Destiny angst, fluff, smut, 18+, you're a ranch hand, whose home is under attack from bandits. a mysterious stranger saves your life

➵ What's Mine Is Mine suggestive smuttiness, someone is hitting on you at the bar and Arthur must make sure everyone knows you're his

➵ Ghosts and Smoke angst, following your journey to say a final goodbye to Arthur

➵ A Job Well Done smut, 18+, when Arthur returns home from a job, you just have to reward him for doing such good work

➵ ...For They Shall Obtain Mercy angst, collab with @cowboydisaster, after your death, Arthur is diagnosed with tuberculosis. he can't wait to see you again.

➵ The Way I See You smut, fluff, 18+, Arthur helps you get past your insecurities

➵ Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? fluff, you and Arthur decide to be honest about your secret relationship

➵ A Bit of a Mess fluff, slight angst, you and Arthur bake cookies

➵ The Long Night fluff, modern AU, when your dog is taken to the vets, Arthur is right by your side

➵ Some Company smut, 18+, a few weeks after you join the gang, you share a sleepless night with the enforcer who saved you

➵ Mr and Mrs Macintosh fluff, you and your new husband check into the saloon for your wedding night

➵ Blood On His Hands smut, 18+, it's your time of the month, but Dutch has some insights from a Mr. Evelyn Miller to share with you

➵ Vedova Nera smut, 18+, you're a hired assassin, and eliminating Dutch van der Linde is your next assignment

#navigation #masterlist #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fluff #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #dutch van der linde x y/n #rdr2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #dutch van der linde fanfic

[sailing-through-hawkins]

wanting, chasing

✧ written for 'suck' ✧ word count: 480 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: none ✧ tags: cowboy au (set in the same universe as previous cowboy entry), deputy eddie, flirty steve ✧ @steddiemicrofic o( >ω<)o✧

"Gettin' real sick of these games, Harrington." Eddie glares, arms crossed. His cheeks burn and his face is red, but it's purely because all the blood is rushing down to his head because, guess fucking what? He got caught by a damn trap and now he's hanging upside down from a tree like a damn dog's tongue hanging from it's maw.

"Really?" Steve laughs, leaning against the tree all casual-like, all confident, all cocky. "I don't think I can get enough."

"You say that now," Eddie squints as he rotates towards the sun, the sound of Steve's laughter so close behind him. "But wait 'til I get my hands on ya -"

"Oh but deputy -"

Eddie spins and faces the tree again but now Steve's there, his face right in front of Eddie's. His hand gently holds Eddie's upper arm, stopping him from twirling away from those hazel eyes, sharp and mischievous.

"I think we both know," Steve murmurs, his eyes glancing up at Eddie's mouth with a smirk. "I've got you in the palm of my hand already."

He should feel anger, indignation, some kinda threatened by that. But all Eddie can think about is how Steve's still wearing the bandana, the one he stole from him that night at the saloon, around his neck. How it looks like it belongs there on him, Eddie's signature black tucked into the collar of his tan shirt.

"Eyes up here, Munson."

His eyes do flick up and he stares at the golden glow of Steve's smile, soft and sweet. Without a single thought in his damn head, he uncrosses his arms and reaches out, fingers ghosting over his lips. Steve inhales and before Eddie can blink, he's somehow pulled Eddie's glove off with his own damn teeth and ah fuck.

"Yer a terrible man," Eddie grumbles half-heartedly, as Steve spits out his glove onto the ground.

With a chuckle, Steve presses a kiss to Eddie's fingers. "And you just can't get enough."

"Maybe I have," Eddie says weakly (they both know he'd never). "Maybe I've decided I've had enough, 'n it's time to start chasin' other -"

He hisses when teeth almost pierce his thumb, low-lidded eyes staring him down, warning his running tongue.

"You ain't chasin' nobody else, deputy," Steve gently sucks at the skin where he bit Eddie, something of an apology, but his eyes, dark in the shade of the tree, tell Eddie it's more of a promise. "'S you 'n me, end of the line."

"Ha," Eddie clears his throat. "Anyone would think you had somethin' to claim here."

"Somethin'," Steve pulls Eddie's hand out and just barely grazes the air Eddie breathes with his lips. "Someone."

And with that, Eddie's on the ground, a throbbing echoing in his skull, staring up at the man above him, who winks and runs out of his sight, out of his grasp.

#sailor✧writes #steddie #microfic #steddiemicrofic #writing #au content: cowboys #I'VE DONE IT AGAIN #i hope it's cool that this is set in the same universe and kind of references my previous cowboy entry #i just felt like the dialogue callback was too perfect not to use #i'm on a possessive steve kick too which has been fun #i enjoy this au a lot and i'm hoping to maybe write something for rockie in it at some point

[cerezzzita]

Howdy howdy.

A little birdie told me requests were open and I had to ask: Can I request Dante with a s/o who’s a cowboy-themed devil hunter?

Love,

Rodeo

notes: and howdy back at you, Rodeo! my, can you guys believe that Rodeo, one of my favorite DMC writers of Tumblr, is here on my humble blog? geez, I got so so happy once I saw you here, please feel very welcome on my lil silly saloon!

this was very fun to make, not gonna lie, took most of the inspiration at my full-time Overwatch's Cowboy (a.k.a Cole Cassidy) lover period, and yeah, Dante with a Cowboy Devil Hunter s/o would be very funny to see hehehehe

i hope you enjoy the ride, Rodeo! <3

♡ tags: gender-neutral reader, no use of pronouns, no description of reader's appearance, Cowboy word is gender-neutral as well because yes everybody can be a Cowboy, some fluff I guess, Dante loves you so much and the end have a itty bitty angsty moment.

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

This man is over the moon, that's for sure.

We all know Dante had/have a thing for western-themed things (we're all looking at his chaps and cowboy boots in DMC4 at the moment), now imagine him having a S/O who's literally a Cowboy?

He's definitely lovestruck. 

Thinks you're badass, you are badass and no one's changing his mind.

Always mouth wide open of how impressed he is seeing you in action.

Now cut for him showing off as usual so he can impress you too. Don't we all love this man? 

He will wear Dr. Faust most 100% of the time you two go out on missions together. 

"Look, sugar! We match!"

Also had a blast of glee when you wore Dr. Faust once. 

Oh, and he'll wear — not to say steal — your hat too. Loving is sharing. 

Silly goofy cowboy-themed nicknames for you, but most are just romantic and/or cute. 

"I'm your huckleberry, honeypie~" "Indeed, you are, Dante." 

If you ever have a Southern accent, you'll see Dante blushing from pink to cherry-red when you're speaking. He thinks you're voice is so sensual.

Also, yes, please sweet-talk to him — whether in public or not, much for Vergil's dismay —, he'll be a happy demon purring puddle. 

"Who's my lil, sweet daredevil?" (Cut for Dante purring on the background)

Tell me you have a Devil Arm that's a lasso, by the love of Sparda. He'll be astonished and even more over the moon. 

And sure, he'll convince you — a.k.a make his infamous puppy dog eyes — to let him use it.

Yet he also planned to got stuck by it so he can flirt with you. 

"Looks like you got your price, honeysuckle?" "Dante, please, we're in the middle of a mission—"

It doesn't really matter how many Devil Arms you have on store, Dante will convince you to let him use, even if it's just for a bit. He'll let you use his, too, and yes he's mesmerized as heck seeing your proficiency with them. 

I dare to say, he's even more in love with you. 

Let's enter the angst field for a bit, with the classic "Dante knows you're badass yet he's afraid to lose you". He knows you're capable and strong, hell, that's one of the reasons he fell for you; but goddamn, what if you got hurt and he's not there to give you cover as he always does? Fuck, he doesn't even wanna think of the day you decide you're better off without him. 

"My ridin' will always have you there, Dante. Y'know I love you with my heart and soul of coal, honeybun."

He's crying and he's hugging you like it was the last time, that's for sure. He loves you like a country love song. 

Overall, Dante's your huckleberry, you're his honeypie, the love of his life, the step on his groove because you're so smooth. Have a very fun ride with this devilish cowboy! 

cerezzzita©, 2023 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not copy, edit, steal or claim as yours | reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#devil may cry #devil may cry headcanons #devil may cry fanfiction #dante #dante sparda #dmc dante #devil may cry dante #dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #devil may cry dante x reader #dante x you #x reader #dante x gender neutral reader #dmc headcanons #dmc #devil may cry x reader

[teeth-farie]

You like to think you’ve been in your fair share of funny situations, but this is something else. You’d consider yourself of noble heritage, even if you weren’t close to inheriting any power yourself, but it seemed to be enough for dumb criminals to try and snag you for ransom.

“You’ve done well.” You say, standing in the doorway of your hotel room. Your new self appointed bodyguard grins dumbly at the praise. Maybe he was beneficial; even if he practically chased you down at the saloon you’d been at.

“All in a day's work! And, y’know, maybe you need some more guarding inside the room too?” Vash looks hopeful, and you would have been blind not to notice his little crush earlier. And, well, he was successful in protecting you, and it’s not like he’s bad looking either, he was actually kind of cute…

“You know what? I think I do, come along now.”

He nearly jumps in excitement and surprise, hurriedly trailing after you. He reminds you of a dog in a way, obedient and eager to please. “I never did catch your name, either.” You say, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

“Well! It’s actually a little complicated—oh, I always get a bit embarrassed when someone asks,”

“That’s quite alright, I think I have a name in mind for you anyway, actually.”

“Really?” His eyes are bright and nearly sparkling, bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah,” you smile, “how about ‘Spot’? Sounds fitting for you, I think.”

Vash goes red in the face, eagerly nodding his head. “Y-yes, ma’am! That sounds amazing, ma’am!”

“Then why don’t you come over here so I can reward your brave work, spot?”

It takes a second for it to register in his brain, but as soon as it does he’s answering with a bark and an enthusiastic scramble to your feet.

“Come on, up here,” you pat your lap. Vash looks at your thighs nervously, but settles nonetheless. “I’ve never sat on someone’s lap before,” he laughs, the sound melting into a whimper when you place your hands on his thigh and stomach.

“Then let me make this first especially nice for you.”

Your hands reach to his belt and he stops you. “I,”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m, uh, I’m not the prettiest under the clothes, haha..” he answers sheepishly, his downturned eyes now showing…shame.

“I bet your body is just as cute as your face, spot. But if you don’t wanna take anything off, I can just work around that.”

He bites his lip, chewing on the skin as he thinks. He imagined that maybe he’d be the one pleasing you, but the other way around, that’s something new. “How?” He asks softly.

“Well…” you start, moving your hands from his belt to his crotch, cupping him there. “I can rub you through your pants like this, how about that?”

Vash gasps, hips rutting into your palm. “G-good!” He yelps in response, his clothed cock chubbing up at the attention.

“Good.” You purr, gently circling your hand over his growing bulge, running your fingers over the outline it makes in his pants. He makes a pitiful little sound, like a cross between a whimper and a cry. Carefully, he holds onto your shoulders.

“Doesn’t that feel good, spot?” You rub a little firmer, pressing your fingers to where his sac would be.

“Woof!” He answers, grinding against your hand. It’s a little awkward, something he’s never done before, but the outcome just feels so good. Even through his thick pants he’s starting to drip and twitch. “Good puppy, that’s it, take your reward.” You coax him on, encouraging his shakey little thrusts against your hand.

“K-kiss?” He pants out, tongue peeking from his lips. You grab the back of his head and pull him forward, your mouth colliding with his. Vash is sloppily and uncoordinated and something tells you that despite his flirtations, he must not be kissed very often. He makes a cacophony of sounds that you swallow eagerly, rolling your palm and fingers with the movements of his hips.

Vash grapples at your shirt, the fabric bunching under his fingers. He can feel your tongue press against his, he can feel you licking over his teeth, and his eyes roll back into his head when you force his mouth open and spit down his throat.

“Maaaasterrrr,” he gurgles, nearly bouncing in your lap. “Master, huh? You’re really an obedient puppy, aren’t you?” You coo, nipping at his jaw. Vash shivers, tongue lolling from his mouth with a wet moan when you squeeze his aching bulge.

“Come on, spot, are you close? I bet you’re real pent up, huh? No one’s given you the touch you needed, have they? Poor baby. Go on and cum for your master.”

You have the privilege of watching his face screw as he chases his high, his jaw slack and eyebrows furrowed, hips rutting into your hand almost like he was feral. He’s whimpering, slurring out your name- and he screams a silent scream when he finally climaxes, his toes curling in his boots and his fingers digging into your shoulders.

“There we go,” you massage him through his orgasm, feeling the fabric grow warm and wet under your skin. “That’s it, what a good boy.” You kiss him sweetly, moving to pepper them across his cheeks. Vash croons softly, his legs trembling. “I-I think,” he begins, swallowing thickly. His face and neck are sweaty and flushed red and you wonder how far down it spreads.

“I think I’m ready to take my clothes off now, hehe..”

“Atta boy, spot.”

#vash the stampede #spicy #sub vash #dom reader #new babygirl just dropped #I’m totally normal about him #also yeah this was inspired by that one ep

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Alright that’s it my brain is rotting I must make an ask

Mostly for SDV bachelors but if you want to expand on it then go ahead but: who’s into PDA and what kind of PDA do they do?

Hello dear anon 👋 Sorry for the late answer, I took too long...😮‍💨

Thanks for asking and enjoy!

_________________________________________

Alex is not shy about anyone, loves the attention of his s/o, and wants to show the whole world how wonderful his partner is. So no walk is complete without hugs, kisses, holding hands and so on. Also the athlete will be especially into pda if his Farmer has recently been injured adventuring or some stranger has started flirting with them. He pulls the Farmer into his arms, protecting them from a pesky admirer or if he simply senses a tense situation around. Scary dog privilege, and hey, hugs!

Sam just personifies a golden labrador puppy: he always wants attention. He loves showing signs of attention in public, especially in a playful manner. Let's say soft and warm hugs turn into a tickle war, and kisses immediately turn into playful pecking. What can I say - Sammy is a very social guy. However, he will listen to his partner and won't do too much pda if the Farmer is uncomfortable. The poor fellow will have to restrain himself from squeezing or kissing his partner tho, because they are so cute and beautiful and his.

Given his shy nature, Sebastian doesn't seem like the type of person to into pda. Of course, he shows all the affection and care for the Farmer if they are in a more secluded place, but the crowd of people who stare at their cooing stress Sebby (nless it's close friends like Sam and Abigail). The only attention he will show Farmer in public is holding hands and hugging. However, he will not mind if his partner is into pda (although often Sebastian's face will be red like a tomato). He loves them with all his heart, but he still has a hard time showing his love for them in public.

Although Elliott is a hopeless romantic who will dedicate poetry and serenade to his s/o daily, he is not a big fan of pda. A sophisticated writer expresses his love best in words, not in physical touch, especially in public. Elliott lived alone in his little beach house for almost a year, and most likely led a similar lifestyle before he moved to Stardew Valley. True, after a glass of something strong in the Saloon, this is a completely different person: he will be much more courageous to express his love for the Farmer. Here you have passionate kisses, and attempts to carry Farmer in Elliott's arms (which most often end in a fall to the floor, but still!).

To be honest, Shane doesn't give a shit about others opinion, but he cares about the opinion of his partner. Therefore, if the Farmer is unsure because of the pda, then Shane doesn't mind. If the Farmer, on the contrary, manifests pda at any opportunity, then Shane also doesn't mind. He will be fine in any case, such a versatile person this chicken man! Although Shane likes when he and the Farmer hold hands or exchange quick kisses, the Farmer has the final say. Shane knows that they both love each other, and that it is not necessary to prove it to the whole world.

Harvey is a real cinnamon roll: like Shane, he will give the last word about the pda to the Farmer. The doctor of Pelican Town also believes that it's not necessary to show off your love, but also don't mind exchanging light touches, quick kisses, and holding hands. At some points, he may kiss or hug the Farmer longer in public, but he still wants to keep his passion for his partner until they get home... 😉

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv headcanons #sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv alex

[scopostims]

victor stimboard for @cherrypeachypie :•]

[ID: A 3x3 stimboard of 9 GIFs.

GIF 1: A light-skinned person knelt down, scooping sand with their arms into a pile, the sand they're scooping falling on a slight slope towards them.

GIF 2: A robotic hand made of a metal frame pointing it's finger, then curling into an "okay" sign.

GIF 3: A camera pan-over of connected, old west storefronts, a red one labelled "Livery Barn Cafe" and a brown one labelled "Crystal Palace Saloon".

GIF 4: A slowly spinning, red and black roulette wheel.

GIF 5 (center): Victor from "Fallout: New Vegas" standing on a floor with a flashing yellow stripe.

GIF 6: A red poker chip spinning on top of two overlapping playing cards, an ace of clubs and an ace of diamonds.

GIF 7: A moderate-brown skinned person riding a white horse that's running through a desert.

GIF 8: A silver aibo ers-220, a vaguely dog shaped robot sitting up, then laying down on the floor.

GIF 9: Three camels walking through a desert, silhouetted brown due to a dust storm.

End ID]

#scopostims original boards #stim #stimblr #stimboard #stimmy #desert #sand #robotics #aibo #horse #cowboy #victor #fallout new vegas

[kfaem]

Max hummed a tune quietly to herself as she browsed the isles at Pierre's, reading the packages of each seed bundle she picked up. After living in the valley for two months, this farming thing was still foreign to her. "Looking for anything, in particular, hot stuff?"

She turned around, face flushing red as she met eyes with the flirtatious man in front of her. "Just- just more seeds, I don't know what I should plant."

Sterling smirked, stepping closer, and reaching behind her. "Mia and Henry both recommend people newer to farming do potatoes and cauliflower, they're pretty profitable too." He stepped back, handing her a handful of seed packets. "Anything else I can help you with, sugarcakes?"

Feeling a burst of confidence, Max cleared her throat and peered up into his blue eyes. "A dinner would be nice."

Sterling was visibly shocked by the usually shy girl's confidence and caught off guard, struggling to form a proper sentence. "I- yeah, yeah sure. Tonight at the saloon, 7 o'clock?"

"It's a date!" Max smiled up at him, happily skipping passed him towards the counter. Sterling's eyes followed her, watching as she purchased her seeds and left.

"Sterling? Get back to work! I don't pay you to sit around all day!" Pierre demanded, glaring at the awestruck man.

Sterling shook his head, trying to wake himself up from what he thought was a dream. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry boss, just got caught in my own head for a second there."

"That damn farmer really has you in a trance, huh?" Shane teased, he watched as his buddy intently watched the saloon's door. "Relax, dude. I doubt she'll be here any quicker when you're staring at the fucking door like a dog."

"Can you shut up for once?" Sterling mumbled. The inside of his lip was raw from his nervous chewing, he just kept thinking what if she didn't mean it? what if she was joking?

Then there was a jingle and a bright blue fabric caught his eye. She looked like she'd run here.

When they met each other's eyes Sterling wasn't sure if that feeling in his gut was nerves or the beer he just shotgunned. She raised her hand, smiling and waving.

Shane finally took the hint and snorted, walking towards the bar counter.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm late..."

"Gorgeous, you're gorgeous." Sterling paused as he realized those internal thoughts weren't so internal.

Max giggled, tilting her head to the side. "You're quite a sight yourself, Mr. Cooper."

Oh, he was screwed.

#stardew valley #always raining in the valley #sterling cooper #sterling x reader #sterling x oc #sterling and max

[eaaaazygurl]

Request - S/O gets Arthur a dog despite Arthur reminding her that he doesn't need one. This results in Arthur doing literally everything together with his new companion!

(Okay so first and foremost THANK YOU SO MUCH for requesting! I've thought about taking requests for a while, so this will be my first official requested story! I did make some changes for instance the breed of dog is a Husky (I have a Husky as my camp dog Online!) And Arthur and Reader are not officially together by this point, rather they're pining for eachother. I hope that's okay! I apologise also if it's a little rushed ^^' Enjoy! And again a thousand thanks for enjoying my work and your wonderful complements!)

Man's Best Friend

Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Summary - Your first trip to Valentine has you come across a young Siberian Husky after causing a ruckus inside the Saloon. With Arthur being rather displeased as of late, the idea of giving him some companionship proves to be one of the best ideas you've had to date.

Warnings - Suggestive themes of abuse, neglect is mentioned, blood and pain, depression, an animal in dispare (not physically injured.)

Notes - A shorter one of my write ups but one that was very enjoyable to write! I had this done within a few hours, had a creative burst but not sure how it turned out so I do apologise if it's a little rubbish ^^' I'd be more than happy to redo it soon enough!

Wordcount - 5000+

Pointers ->

writing like this means you are thinking to yourself.

'Writing like this' means that Arthur is writing this in his journal.

The bittersweet taste of aged Whisky remained upon the raspberry-pink skin of your lips some while after your last drink.

You were sat with your feet kicked up on the table in the centre of the scarcely busy Valentine Saloon at high noon, a half smoked cigarette hanging loosely between your right index and middle finger that rest idle upon your kneecap.

It was your first time here. You'd been instructed by Dutch to get some intel into the little livestock town without making your criminal life obvious.

So, slumped against the old creaking chair with an empty shot glass beside you, decided the play the role of a lonely women downing her stale life away with the sorrows of bitter tan-coloured liquid.

This was your best and easiest way to get information on little old Valentine; her weaknesses and strengths, where the law tended to lie, how she reacted to drunken violence... and, of course, who with enough silver in their pocket to line the skin of their teeth would pass through, if not dare to stay around Valentine from time to time.

This job was for you and you alone.

You were excellent with jobs like these, the sort where you had to keep your head low and play a persona. You were once a preformer afterall, one that spent your life on an epic stage and had your nimble fingers slip in and out of the richest pockets of the West during your shows, or rather... your fathers shows.

He had been the man to turn you into a degenerate thief and beat you when you were caught, but Dutch Van Der Linde and Hozier Matthews had taken you away from all of that, with Arthur Morgan giving your father a taste of his own medicine when you had been caught out one last time.

You'd attempted to rob Dutch that night, and it wasn't until the notorious gang leader caught you red handed and rather than out you to your father, offered you a chat to reason, did you snap and come clean about your father's abuse. That had been many years ago, now. Before Blackwater and back when the West was very much in the West; untamed and wild.

"Hey."

A sudden jolt sent you almost toppling backwards as the deep southern voice had you almost jump out of your skin. One large hand gripped onto the back of the chair that bowed and complained at the pressure you had put against it.

"Jesus Christ Arthur! Y'almost gave me a heart attack!" You sneered between your teeth, quietly. This had to be convincing, so you immediately reverted back to your performance, somewhat slurring your words and dragging your hand up against Arthur's muscular arm that still gripped onto the chair, perhaps a little more now that you were making physical contact with the man, "Can yer get me a drink mister? Get me a drink an' you can come perch a seat next t'me?"

Arthur understood what you were really suggesting, given the fact that you gave him a swift and discrete wink, "Uh- sure, miss. What's your poison?"

"Whisky. Always Whisky." You should know this, Mr Morgan.

As you watched Arthur stride over to the bar, you couldn't help but release a relieved sigh, rubbing your palms together that had began to sweat nervously.

You were sweet on Arthur Morgan, you had been for quite some time now, ever since getting into that mess back in Oregon. It hadn't been the ferry job, a little before that in fact. You and Arthur had been tasked with robbing the Oakwood Hotel, Dutch had heard of some strange business going on in the basement from a fellow in the Saloon a few nights prior, though neither of you could be sure on the validity of the claim. Still, despite Hozier's warnings, Dutch had you and Arthur go take a look.

Of course, Hozier was right and the tip off had been a trap set up by Colm O'driscoll himself. The feud between Dutch and Colm was beginning to boil, and it had resorted to making you and Arthur hostages in the cellar of a dank old Hotel.

You and Arthur were tied together, forced to hold hands with your bodies flush against eachother. There was no reason why the O'driscoll Boys had bound you both up like they did, you'd assumed it was to humiliate the both of you, but all it had done was ignite something within your stomach that you struggled to understand beforehand: your feelings towards Arthur.

Eventually you were both rescued, and Arthur had struggled to be around you for weeks after, but your friendship had rekindled eventually. From then on, you decided to lock away those feelings you held for the enforcer of the gang. It wasn't worth breaking your friendship... and the both of you were close, afterall.

"Here you are," Arthur had returned with two Whisky shots. Presumably the second had been for himself.

"Thank you good sir," You took the cold glass into your finger tips and leant forward, halfly to seem drunk and halfly to be able to quietly chat to Arthur without any earwigging or distractions, "What are you doing here? Dutch had me come alone,"

Arthur narrowed his eyes and came closer to your face, cradling the Whisky in his spare hand, "No thank you then? I came to make sure you was okay... been gone a while. Jus' got worried is all,"

Worried? Over me?

As Arthur spoke, you caught a brief scent of tobacco, whisky and mint upon his breath. It was maddening, making your fingers twist and contort in your semi-drunken state. Perhaps this should be your last Whisky... "Ah right... well I do appreciate you coming to check on me." You offered Arthur an innocent smile, the same one that softened your features and brightened your eyes. Arthur swallowed thickly and retreated to his whisky glass, listening as you spoke on, "All I've really found out is that this place is full of sheep shit, the Sheriff is unfaithful to his wife and there's this big brute of a man called Tommy here in the Saloon."

A brow rose slowly as Arthur finished his Whisky off, sucking on his tongue for a second to capture the last reminence of bitterness, "Not a very excitin' area then. Might be good for us, I guess, since we're supposed to be laying low."

You returned the reply with a shrug and a soft snort of amusement, "Dutch and lying low go as well as milk and honey. They don't mix."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Arthur had began to relax in your presence now, chuckling softly as he settled back into his hair, swirling the dribble of Whisky left in his glass.

"Anyway," You finished your own Whisky in one big gulp, practically chucking the glass down with a cheeky smirk, "What sort of errands has Dutch got you on? Noticed you've been away from camp a few times."

As you and Arthur began a quiet conversation between eachother over the various tasks the both of you had been on over the past few weeks, a sudden clatter caught the both of you off guard, followed by a loud yelp and the sound of a very aggressively sounding man. A flash of silver caught your eye, weaving through various legs and out of the Saloon doors.

"Goddamn mutt!" The barman rose his fist in anger, red faced and clearly pissed off.

You gave Arthur a curious gaze and the both of you stood, walking over to the bar where you hung back a little.

"The hell was that?" Arthur beckoned the man to answer with a wavering hand. You kept back, slowly becoming more and more interested as the barman described what could only be a 'small lookin' wolf or large lookin' rat' making a return to the Saloon every now and again for scraps.

Whilst Arthur attempted to twist the conversation into something more interesting, like what rich men took up residence around Valentine, you decided in your somewhat drunken state to investigate this supposedly overgrown rat.

You scampered outside, tensing your leg a little to feel the tug and pull of your leg holster concealed under your long black skirt - just to be sure it was still there. Fixing your black shirt and pulling your velvety gambler hat over your eyes, you followed the obvious paw prints around the back of the Saloon and into the darkest section of a pig pen.

Surely the beast had to be here... drunken curiosity was pulling you forward, forward, forward until-

A loud yelp and bark had you almost slip onto your arse. The setting sun cast an orange strip of light through the spaced out wood and onto the snout of a grey and white face, crystal blue eyes shining back at you. Then, the whimpering came, and paws began pushing the creature deeper into the corner.

"My god..." You whispered to yourself as your eyes adjusted. In front of you lie a terrified young Siberian Husky, it's backside caked in thick mud. Due to the long fur being plastered back, it made it easier to see how starved the poor thing was.

"Hey... shh there, it's okay little one, I ain't here to hurt ya," You lifted a hand and brought it forward. The Husky lurched deeper into the dark with a soft yelp.

Poor thing is terrified! What the hell happened to you little guy?

Then you had an idea. Your hand snaked into your satchel and eventually pulled out a chunk of precooked venison from earlier. You brought your hand forward again and dropped the chunk onto the floor, not wanting to risk a devilishly hungry canine to snap your fingers off trying to get to the meat.

Slowly, the Husky pulled its head forward and took the meat. It had taken three bites to demolish the venison completely, "Wow. You're super hungry, aren't you?"

It had taken a few more bits of food from your satchel, but eventually the Husky began to come forward. It's dry nose twitched as it cake closer to take your scent, and then it pushed itself into your hand, "There, see? I ain't so scary, am I?"

"Y/n!" Arthur's voice once again took you by surprise and in turn spooked the Husky, the poor creature yelping and scurrying off underneath a broken slat to charge into the bushline ahead of the pig pen.

You let out a defeated sigh and stood up to see Arthur giving you a dreadfully confused expression, "The hell you doin' in a pig pen, darlin'?"

Perhaps I should get outta here...

Before long, both you and Arthur had set off back to Horseshoe Overlook. You had scraped the reminence of mud and pig shit off of your pointed boots and mounted onto your grey Gypsy Cob, keeping up a steady pace with Arthur who rode on the black and white patched Kentucky Saddler he had taken from Mrs Adlers previous abode back in the mountains.

Once you returned, you made your way towards Dutch's tent. The sun had hidden behind the horizon but there was just about enough light to justify talking to Dutch before he called it a night. It was a rather quick conversation, nothing much was to report other than the Sheriff's infidelity and the possibility of some rich folk on the train coming through the town but you couldn't say when.

Then, as you exited Dutch's tent, you were met with Arthur stood waiting for you, a small smile forming on his lips as he tipped his head for you to follow over to the campfire.

"Thought you might be hungry," Arthur settled onto the log, tapping his hand next to him beckoning you to sit beside him.

"Starved." You slumped down next to Arthur's side with a little giggle, feeling your cheeks burn at the kind gesture as he offered you a bowl of Pearson's stew. Luckily the amber glow of the fire would mask it, "Thank you."

"So," Arthur began, taking a small mouthful of stew before continuing, "You never told me what you was doin' in that pig pen."

Arthur's words pulled a snort from you, which had you almost choke on a chunk of potato. Arthur was quick to check you over, but you waved him away with an amused snigger, "I'm okay- I'm alright-"

"Sure?"

"As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow." You offered a little smile once again, now the flames of the fire practically turning those irises of yours into a dancing explosion of colour that had Arthur painfully chew down onto the inside flesh of his lip, as to not allow you to see it.

"Say, How'd you like a new companion?" Your question was sudden and a little baffling. Arthur simply glared at you, trying to figure out just where this subject had come from in your conversation, but he had nothing. He simply blinker a few times and twisted his lip in confusion, "What you mean...?"

You shrugged, taking another mouthful of soup, "Well I've noticed you get pretty lonely when I'm not around," a devilish smirk formed upon your lips and your eyes narrowed to an even more baffled Arthur Morgan.

You could've sworn you even saw a blush forming upon his cheeks, the fire unable to hide the darkening colour, pulling a rather bombastic "I don't need no mothering woman!" From his lips, earning a rather loud laugh from your lungs.

"Oh Arthur I'm only pulling your leg!"

"Y'aint pulling my leg?"

"...Nevermind. Anyway," you took another mouthful, feeling the presence of Arthur's body now much closer, "I was being serious about a companion. All this running from the law, watching our friends get shot and killed... it's a lot."

Arthur remained silent as he finished up his stew, allowing you to continue, "I just thought it'd be nice if you had, I don't know... a dog, or somethin'."

The suggestion suddenly made Arthur jolt and scramble to capture the bowl he almost dropped into the fire, eyes wide as he snapped his attention to you, "A dog? Y/n... I don't need a dog."

"Why not?" You love dogs and cats and everything animal... unless its snakes or crocs, I guess. Or big cats or bears- oh, nevermind.

"I ain't replacing Copper." Arthur was now on his feet and stalking away from you. You hadn't irritated him, he wasn't trying to escape you, because he returned once he'd put the bowls into a soak bowl, and sat back down beside you, "I can't."

"Arthur..." your hand twitched and rose slightly, halfly attempting to brush against and rest on top of Arthur's, but stopped midway, "Copper's been gone over a year, now. You've been pretty secluded since he passed. D'you know how many times I've caught you staring into space in your tent?"

Arthur pursed his lips together and sighed heavily out of his nostrils, his head tilting away from yours to glance elsewhere. It took a moment, but eventually he replied, "I can't replace him, Y/n. I really appreciate your suggestion but I couldn't possibly have another dog. I don't need one. I'll make 'em miserable. Or scare 'em. Someone like me, someone bad, ain't meant to have animals as innocent as dogs can be. I ain't a good man, I'll be no good to a dog."

You ain't scary... you won't make that dog miserable. You'll see... I promise you, Arthur Morgan. You just need something to show you unconditional love.

Your conversation with Arthur about the dog had fizzled into the night, and the both of you shared general chit chat until you began rocking forward, threating to fall into the fire as you began to fall asleep sat upright. Arthur had to catch you, lifting you into his arms to place you upon your bedroll as you slept. It had been a long day and the Whisky had left your system, leaving you incredibly fatigued. Once you settled in your bedroll, Arthur gave you a warm smile. For the smallest, most brief of seconds he edged forward, eyes gazing at your forehead. He felt his lips twitch, but eventually he backed away, closing the curtains of your tent and retreated to his own.

Morning had broke, and so had your headache. It was grueling, forcing you to drag yourself out of your tent and stumble towards some fresh water, downing a cup of the clear liquid with one fell swoop.

Once you had collected your senses you slumped down onto a table alongside Hozier, quietly asking the fatherly figure if he had any headache remedies. Hozier gave you a friendly smile and noted how Dutch's suggestion yesterday had left you feeling drab, mustering up a pulp of various plants before offering you the remedy.

With that out of the way, you said your goodbyes to Hozier and gazed towards the enterance to Horseshoe, a determined expression against your face.

Arthur was next to wake. Though he wasn't harboring a terrible headache like you, he did feel the need to stumble from his cot and make his way towards the freshly brewed coffee, practically bumping into Hozier as he too had made his way to the coffee.

"Hozier." Arthur gestured a welcoming smile as he tipped his cup upwards.

"Morning, Arthur." Hozier repeated the gesture, "I see you got Miss Y/n back in one piece yesterday?"

"Yeah, her idea of 'not obvious' was to drink a load of Whisky. Dare I say it worked. Where is Y/n anyway? She ain't in her tent," Arthur took a secondary glance over his shoulder to be sure he couldn't see you, pulling a cheerful smile from Hozier's lips.

"You checked?"

"Well ye- uhm. No. Just noticed when I went past." Arthur cuffed his boot along the dusty floor, clearing his throat as he looked down.

"Her tent is on the other side of camp, Arthur. And I know when you're lying, you're doing it now, lookin' down at your feet!" Hozier rasped a laughing cough, taking a sip of coffee to soothe his throat and gave Arthur a little slap on the shoulder. Arthur's eyes flickered towards Hozier and back down, his hand gripping onto the cup some more before taking another swig, "Okay- so... where is she?"

"Went out to find something 'important', not sure what. She just told me to tell you she'd be back soon if you asked." Hozier took the last drops of coffee into his mouth and waved Arthur off, sitting back down into his designated wooden chair, newspaper in hand. Arthur let out a gentle sigh, throwing the rest of his coffee and retreated back to his tent, slumping into his own chair with arms resting on the table surface, unfolding his journal onto a clear page.

'Been a confusing few weeks running from Blackwater and all that mess.

Came to a new little town by the name of Valentine. Nothing special so far, just livestock and degenerates who are just trying to get by.

Y/n got sent out by Dutch to do some digging yesterday. She was gone hours, perhaps even half the damn day. Had to check on her, no ones orders, just my own. Couldn't have her hurt or worse... not on my watch. Anyway, found her acting as a drunk at the big Saloon on the main street. Their Whisky is good I guess, so much so I found Y/n acting all shifty in a pig pen of all things. Took her home, got chatting by the fire and she tells me she thinks I should get a dog. Baffled me, to be honest. I've missed that sort of companionship but Copper... it's been over a year but I still can't help but think I'd be replacing him. Who knows, maybe one day a dog might just land on my feet and remind me of all the good times me and Copper had.

Well, after that, took Y/n to bed. She was out of it by midnight, that Whisky sure did a number on her. Just hope she doesn't get herself into anymore trouble, silly thing. If I could make sure she was safe twenty four hours a day then I'd be a happier man. Apart from that, I'm always worrying.'

"Arthur!"

"Mary-Beth? What's the matter?" Arthur swiftly snapped his ledger shut, placing his pencil down and gazed upward with wide, bright eyes.

Mary-Beth had sauntered over, messing with her hair that was half up. She'd clearly just woke, but she was teeming with excitement, "Y/n told me to tell you that she wants you to meet her outside! You know where the treeline breaks into grassland!"

Arthur pouted, confused for a moment and stood, slipping his journal into his satchel. He parted his jaws to question Mary-Beth but by that point she had disappeared. So, he had no other choice. Arthur slipped his jacket over his shoulders and made his way through the treeline. There was no need to take a horse.

"Y/n?" His voice echoed through the treeline. No response. He came to the break in the treeline, shielding his eyes from the morning sunlight, "Y/n!"

Arthur felt the wind leave his lungs as he was pounced, slamming onto the hard floor with a rather gruff 'Oof'. There was a brief ringing in his ears, suddenly coming round to reality again to the feeling of a rough tongue brushing against his cheek, the sound of panting rumbling against his ear and the cheerful laughter of you just some ways away.

"The hell!-"

"Here boy! Heel!" You gave the order, and whatever had knocked Arthur retreated to your side.

Arthur pulled himself up, dazed. He coughed a little, rubbing his eyes and took one look at the creature sat at your feet...

"Arthur... meet your new companion! Now I know you said you didn't want another dog but I found this little guy yesterday hiding in the pig pen. That's why I was there. He was so hungry and mucky I couldn't just leave him, he's so sweet and so loy-"

"Y/n!" Arthur must have called your name five times by now, though the fifth and final attempt had finally gotten through to you. Blinking, you slowly closed your mouth and felt a blush begin to form, one you couldn't hide. Not this time... "Yes?"

Arthur was now on his knees, hands brushing through the now clean, long and silvery coat of the Husky. His eyes were wide with curiosity, jaw slightly parted in a silent gasp, "Y'got me a dog..."

"I did," You felt yourself sink a little, nervous that Arthur may not like the dog afterall. It was nerve-wracking.

"Y/n I- I don't know what to say..." Arthur felt himself gazing at the Husky with intent. Part of him wanted to run; this creature wouldn't bode well in the presence of a mad man. Yet... those eyes of a creature so innocent and so relaxed around him... it drew Arthur in. He was intrigued. The panic be once had suddenly seeped away. Suddenly, this dog that stood in front of him began to excite him. Emotions ran high, and Arthur began to smile. He had a dog.

"This why you asked me about a dog yesterday, isn't it?"

"To be honest, I've been thinking about it for a while. Just so happens that this little guy needed a good partner, and I knew you'd be the perfect one." Your hands were fiddling with eachother, drawing circles around each knuckle anxiously. You weren't sure how Arthur would react. You just wanted the man to be happy, he'd been through a lot these past few weeks. Perhaps having a companion to care for would set things straight, or at least to an extent. Arthur loved Copper dearly, and you knew Arthur had a lot of love to give.

Arthur, continuing to brush his hands through the Husky's coat, gazed up at you with questioning eyes, "What makes you say I'm any good?" Despite his excitement, he still doubted himself.

You shifted uncomfortably. What a question... how would you respond, exactly? You couldn't just speak the truth, that would give your feelings away like a firework in a dark sky, "I uh..." You swallowed. Hard. Almost painfully. "I notice things. You were real sweet and loving with Copper, he was a happy dog. I knew you'd treat this little one right. Looks like he's been mistreated... looks like a young one too."

Your observations didn't go unnoticed by Arthur. The toughened Outlaw frowned, tilting his head slightly and repeating those words in his head. 'Mistreated', 'young'... Arthur drew a finger across the brim of his hat, the hat who had once belonged to Lyle Morgan. A shudder swept through Arthur's spine as he shut his eyes tightly, pursing his lips and let out a sigh, before returning his gaze to the Husky, "Don't worry boy, I'll look after yer. I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again."

Finally the relief you'd been waiting for. Arthur brought the dog into a kind embrace, not too heavy but enough to calm the creature. Your short work on at least training the Husky a few tricks on the short time you were away had definitely come in handy. Huskies were clever dogs afterall... and despite the mistreatment, the dog seemed to warm to Arthur instantaneously. A tell tale sign of Arthur's good nature... despite what he must have thought about himself.

See Arthur? Dogs can see the good in people and the bad in others. You're a good man. This one knows it.

"Got any names yet?" You questioned as you took a step back to allow the two some time together.

"Well I've only known him five minutes." Arthur teased, giving the Husky a good scratch behind the ear before earning access to his belly,

"But... I'm thinking Ace."

A week had passed as quick as the blink of an eye. Every morning you woke, you found that Arthur had disappeared from camp alongside Ace.

Hozier would catch you wandering around aimlessly trying to spot any signs and tell you that Arthur had gone out to spent time with his new companion. One afternoon, you caught Ace returning with a reddened muzzle, Arthur not far behind him. It was said that Ace had caught out an O'driscoll attempting to attack Arthur from behind, and Arthur's loyal companion had sunk his teeth deeply into the flesh of the squealing man's thigh, only releasing on Arthur's command.

Another day you had spotted Arthur returning with a satchel full of fish, Ace carrying a mouthful as well.

Even on your little wanders around New Hanover were you joined by Arthur and Ace, he'd even taught the Husky how to lie upon his horses back on longer journeys. No matter where Arthur went, he'd have Ace follow.

And I thought you said you didn't need a dog, Mr Morgan?

"Hey,"

Arthur gazed up from his place upon the log next to the campfire. The moon was hung high into the midnight sky, and Arthur shuffled over to offer you a place beside him.

"How's Ace?" You settled beside him with a soft smile, gazing between Arthur's legs to spot a sound asleep Ace, paws holding down a bone he had been chewing previously, "Doin' great."

You didn't need to reply. You just sat there, beside Arthur, completely content and happy. Ace had brought a smile back to the Outlaw's face that had been missing for almost an entire year.

"I uh... I didn't get the chance to say thank you."

Your attention flicked to Arthur, "Oh that ain't necessary, Arthur. Trust me, you don't need to thank me."

"But I do." Arthur insisted.

The once cold temperature of your skin was suddenly heated by two warm, large hands cupping them together. You were quick to investigate but not once pulled away, feeling the pit of your stomach swirl and bubble with the strangest of emotions.

"You didn't let my stubbornness get in the way. Y'still went out there and got me a dog... a beautiful one, no less. I don't know how I'm gonna make it up t'you, but I will." Arthur gripped a little more, and for once in your life, you saw him smile first. Smile a smile that was of pure relaxation, content and happiness. Usually, he would be too scared to be the first to show emotions, worried that his strong enforcer persona would seem like a farce. Worry that his seemingly softening nature would make the rest of the gang feel vulnerable without such a hard headed man to protect them... but you knew Arthur. His kindness, his softness and his vulnerability to love made him far more dangerous than he assumed. When you have something to lose, you'll fight with every fibre of your being to keep it there.

Alive.

Well.

Even at the cost of your own life.

You felt your throat constrict as you swallowed, "A-Arthur I... you don't have to-"

"I do. Let me. Please." Those magnificent, beautiful and intoxicating eyes gazed deeply into your own. You couldn't respond, you felt locked in a trance. So, you simply gave Arthur a slow nod.

With that, Arthur smiled brightly, so much so that it seemed as though he would burst. Then you felt him release your hands and wrap his arms around you, squeezing you tightly, and just before Arthur got up and retired to his tent, he left you with a gentle kiss to the cheek.

You sat there, speechless. Arthur had left now, waving you a goodnight as he beckoned Ace alongside him. Your heart was thundering and your mouth as dry as bone. He'd kissed you... on the cheek, yes but it was a kiss no less. It was emotion. An emotion you'd never experienced with Arthur before. Perhaps... there was hope yet.

Arthur pulled his tent curtains shut, his stomach twisting and his eyes widened with surprise. He had just kissed you and he had no idea why. Well- he did... but he wasn't sure what had came over him at that moment. He was frightened that such acts would push you away. He was certain you harbored no feelings towards him but friendship... he needed to pour this onto paper. Coaxing his lantern to brighten, he placed it down upon the table, taking out his journal from his satchel and sat, pencil in hand.

'Been a whole week since Y/n brought me Ace, and what a wonderful week it has been.

Ace is a stunning dog, a Husky I think from what Y/n was saying. Ace is loyal to the bone and as clever as a person, I couldn't have asked for much more. The clever thing can catch fish (no more questioning me, Dutch!) Catch small game like Rabbits, Squirrels, Chipmunks, you name it. If it's small enough to fit in Ace's mouth, he can catch it.

Besides that... what a fool I've been to Y/n.

Tonight we shared some peaceful moments by the campfire. I promised her I'd make it up to her (getting Ace for me) and in my foolish excitement I kissed her on the cheek. She must think I'm some big creep who can't keep his hands to himself. Truth be told... been sweet on her many a moon. Can't tell her that though, she would run off and I wouldn't blame her. Can't blame her. What a curse it is to love and have a face like mine... I just hope my foolish, childish behavior hasn't spoilt our friendship. Don't know what I'd do with myself if I'd lost that. I just hope and pray she never reads these words, for if she does, I'm afraid she would terrify and run, never to be seen again.

Like I said. I don't blame her.'

Arthur settled back in his chair, shutting the journal and slipped it underneath his satchel. He frowned, brushing a hand across his thin stubble before turning his attention to a whining Ace, the dog pawing at Arthur's leg with ears pinned upward with curiosity.

"Ah I'm alright boy," Arthur combed his fingers through Ace's thick hair, planting a gentle kiss against his forehead before moving from his chair to the cot. Arthur stripped down to his union suit, beckoning Ace up.

Ace lept up onto the cot, tail wagging furiously as he circled to lie in the curvature of Arthur's stomach. He nuzzled his head against Arthur's splayed out shoulder, giving him a single lick.

"Tha's a boy... thank you." And with that, Arthur began to drift into a deep slumber. His dreams were pleasant that night. Within them, he came to be by your side, hand in hand, blushing widly with Ace barking playfully around your feet.

Here, where slumber was quiet and dreams were reserved for one, Arthur could be happy. Arthur could be with you.

He could be with family.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader

[hiseternalmayfly]

Security Bets 💵

Written for @kendallroysmethpipe / @weirdgirlgf. I said I'd write out S/I's interacting and I meant it. The first of many. It doesn't matter how different the universes are. I can mash them together. Reminder that I'm open to fic/fic and fic/art trades as well as enjoy writing for my mutuals and followers!

Succession x Trigun anyone?

Characters: Seven (S/I), MJ (S/I), Vash the Stampede, Kendall Roy (Mentioned) Word Count: 1023 CW: Mentions of Alcohol Reblogs > Likes 💕

Somehow, the journalists were louder than the drunk patrons of the bar. All of it was enough to have their ears ringing. Their eyebrow twitched in frustration as a flood of invasive questions were hurled at them like hard rocks. "Can I enjoy my drink in peace?" Their teeth ground together hard enough to snap their teeth.

Their question was ignored as their persistent questioning continued.

This was a stupid idea; they should have known this was going to happen. The public latched onto gossip like a pack of starving animals. Even the smallest rumors would have them foaming at the mouth. Just need to slip out and–

The door of the bar was kicked open with enough force to nearly knock it off the hinges. It silenced the entire bar in an instant, the crowd turning to stare at the taller and slender stranger standing in the doorway, eyes shrouded by their orange glasses.

"You have 5 seconds to empty this bar before I level it to the ground." A deep male voice spoke. A gloved hand reached down at his thigh, pulling out a shiny custom revolver. His fingers strategically reloaded bullets into the chamber before clicking the barrel closed.

"One." He begins counting as he steps forward, and that single step was enough to send everyone scrambling for an exit. That one step exposed that signature red jacket that no one could mistake. The once noisy saloon is now dead silent. All that remains are them, the red-coated man, and the waitstaff? 

Why were the staff still there?

Heavy boots clicked on the ground as the man approached. Those glasses hid eyes that pierced directly into their soul, sending shivers down their spine. His spiky blonde hair was a striking feature. His pistol was raised, resting under their chin as he raised it with the barrel, making them look him in the eyes.

Oh god, they were so dead—he was going to kill them. This was the end, and–

"Okay, Vash. The people we needed out of here are gone. You don’t have to act intimidating anymore."

"Aw!" The blonde’s act was dropped immediately, and the pistol was quickly placed back into its holster. In that moment, his eyes were shining like a child being told it was bedtime. His hand rubbed the back of his head. "Did I do a good job? Do you think they were scared? How scary was I?" He leaned over towards them, getting in their face to ask them questions with excitement. "How would you rate your fear on a scale of 1 to 10?"

The blonde was jerked away from them with a loud, whiney yelp, protesting at the small, red-haired woman, who quickly hushed him like a dog.

She turned her attention to them. "MJ, right?" 

MJ was speechless. Their eyes shifted towards their drink momentarily, wondering if it had been laced while they weren’t looking.

"Sorry about him. He likes to play tough and scary sometimes." She slid into the seat next to them, a glass of whiskey on the rocks set in front of her. "You’re buying this, by the way. I’ll take it as a thank you for getting the journalists off your back."

"I’m sorry—who are you?" MJ finally got the words out.

"Not anybody too important, but my name’s Seven. Yes, that’s my actual name. Don’t think about it for too long." She slammed back the drink quickly, a satisfied sigh leaving her lips. "I already know who you are. Everyone does, after all. What’s it like dating a rich guy? Must be living such a lavish life. You don’t fit in at a place like this."

"Upper-class life is hardly enjoyable." They grumbled in reply, yet their muscles seemed to lose tension at the sight of the once-threatening blonde man now messing with a juke box like it was a new toy.

"I bet." Seven chuckles. "Listen, I’ll keep it quick. I just did you a favor, so I’d like for you to do me a favor in return." "Why should I? I’m thankful for the help, but I don’t see much benefit from striking a deal with a stranger."

"You know who that is?" Seven used her thumb to point back to the blonde, whose eyes were still glowing with glee. "Does a $60 billion dollar man ring a bell?"

MJ’s eyes shifted to the corner—a tack board with posters lined up neatly. In the middle? That dumb blonde man, fingers clutching his chin with a cheeky smile. 

"Wanted…dead or alive...$60 billion dollars... Vash the Stampede!" MJ was surprisingly calm about being in his presence, but seeing him clap his hands in joy when he was given a record to play made it clear there was a larger story at play.

"Bingo. He’s with me, and his name scares everyone who hears it. So I was thinking." She tapped her fingers on the bar. "You and your little boyfriend spare us some cash to let us get into your city without any problems, and I’ll have Mr. Stampede here keep unwanted press attention off you for a long, long time."

MJ glanced down at their drink, watching as the ice shifted around in slow motion. It wouldn’t kill them to spare some money; however, they felt a little used. At the same time…they wanted nothing more than to be left alone by the media.

Perhaps it was a buzz that they answered without even considering Kendall’s thoughts on the matter. "Deal." 

Seven offered them a thumbs up with a cheeky grin. "Perfect." She stood up from her seat, sliding the empty glass back towards the bartender, who seemed unphased by the entire situation. "We’ll be in touch. I think you and I could be great friends."

She clapped her hands, the blonde standing at attention. "Come on, Vash. Wolfwood is waiting for us." 

Vash reached his hand up at MJ with a bright smile, waving his hand in rapid fashion. "Nice to meet you! See you later!"

As MJ was now left alone in the bar, only one thought came to mind.

What the fuck?

#ok to rb #self ship #self ship community #self ship fanfiction #my writing #weirdgirlgf #🔧peace through superior fire power #others ships

[fanficdumbchic]

if you are still taking tombstone requests, may I request a one shot for Doc where the reader is a ballerina, traveling with the troupe of actors? and Doc becomes smitten when he sees her perform? I love all your fics so much, thank you for writing them 🥰🥺

Doc Holliday Becomes Smitten With You After Seeing Your Performance

Short - Doc Holliday x Fem Reader - 569 words - SFW

AN: Thank you so much Anon! I'm glad you enjoy them :) Hope you enjoy!

You were backstage, putting the finishing touches on your makeup. You had been traveling with the troop for a few months now. Most of the cities and towns you had stopped in were lovely experiences playing in beautiful, ornate theaters for well-dressed, polite people. However, when the tour had descended into the West, the venues and audiences changed drastically. The theaters were like saloons with a stage and seats. Drunken cowboys and miners hurled insults and crude propositions, shooting off guns and throwing things on stage. Just last week, you had just managed to pull one of the actors out of the way in time to avoid a bullet. It was high stakes suddenly, and you had met so few gentle people in the hard west. Tombstone had been no different, if anything, worse.

It was your second night in Tombstone. You had been performing a piece from Swan Lake with your fellow ballerinas. Though your nerves were strained, you danced with a fluid grace that had enchanted a man in one of the box seats above the audience. The dark, handsome stranger had his eyes locked on you as you danced. He had folded his arms over the edge of the box, his chin resting on them as he looked on in admiration. As you all finished the first piece, he stood to his feet enthusiastically, clapping loudly and shouting compliments. You made eye contact and you could tell from the look on his face that his heart about skipped a beat.

However, while you gazed up to your admirer, some ruffian with a red sash had tried to pull you from the stage to do god knows what to you. However, he had not succeeded as a bullet tore through one of his shoulders from one of the balcony seats. The smoke cleared to reveal the same pale man with a look of disgust and his pistol drawn. "Get your filth hands away from that angel!" he commanded from the box. You gave him a thankful smile and he tipped his hat back to you graciously. The ruffian retreated like a shamed dog.

You had gone back stage with the rest of the performers. You made your way back to the dressing room alone to calm your nerves. Not five minutes had passed and you heard a knock at the door. You opened it to find the man from the balcony, holding out a single red rose. You blushed and thanked him. He took off his hat politely and introduced himself, "It is wonderful to meet you miss, I go by Doc, Doc Holliday." His charms were undeniable and were like a sweet breeze in a largely stagnant land. You giggled, "Very good to meet you Mr. Holliday. Thank you again for your gentlemanly aid." He gushed, "Why of course, I apologize for the local ruffians, their lack of refinement and manners are very irksome."

He continued, "Your performance was astounding, Miss?" You giggled, "Where are my manners? My name is YN." He grinned, "Miss YN, a very beautiful name for a very beautiful lady." You could feel the butterflies swooshing about in your stomach, his dark eyes gazing deep into yours. "Thank you Mister Holliday." He paused for a moment, nervously running his hands along the brim of the hat in his hands, "Miss YN, would you care to attend dinner with me after the show?"

#Doc Holliday #fanfic #fan fiction #Tombstone 1993 #x fem reader

[burgerdudes]

We think 𝗗𝗢𝗢𝗠𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗖𝗘 is quite a fitting name for this beast of a burger. 🍔😮 @reddogsaloon ━ #burger #burgerdudes #london (at Red Dog Saloon, Shoreditch) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cqe5GvBj4jt/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#burger #burgerdudes #london

[overlookedfile]

...would you be interested in a short exploration of Angel actually CARING about creatures, as in, being very attentive to horses and gentle with dogs, as opposed to his attitude to humans in general? Could be a slice of life witnessed by a saloon bartender, or a stable boy, or just a private moment of peace.

Maybe not as fluffy as you would like, but here you go. @erebus0dora

~ ~ ~

Rating: PG-13 (some swearing)

Pairing: None

Summary: It’s not always about the money, but that’s a nice bonus.

Length: Drabble

Approx. Reading Time - 8 minutes (200 words/minute)

Angel kept tight rein on his temper as he shuffled the deck. It wouldn't do to let anyone see his intent, not before it was too late. Pass. Cut. He flicked the cards across the table with expert precision, eyeing each of his competitors in turn. Not a good enough hand. Fold. He passed the deck to the man next to him.

Shuffle. Cut. Deal.

A small wager. Loss.

Shuffle. Cut. Deal.

Fold.

Shuffle. Cut. Deal.

A large wager. Win.

Shuffle. Cut. Deal.

A larger wager. Win.

Shuffle. Cut. Deal.

Fold.

In the guttering light of the backwater saloon, Angel raked in his winnings with a smug grin. Amateurs. Especially the one in the bowler hat. That imbecile had played right into his hand on multiple levels until the man had left the table with little more than the clothes on his back. Good. Served him right. Now that Angel had what he wanted, though, there was no point in sticking around.

"Gentleman." He stood, offering them a nod, and pocketed the cash. The hastily scribbled receipt of ownership, however, he kept between his fingers.

The stables were dark when he entered, but it didn't take much to find the stable boy curled up in the corner of the lone empty stall. He nudged the boy with his boot until he woke.

"Get my horse," he demanded, "and that red gelding with the white blaze."

The boy scrambled to obey, leading the paint mare to its owner before gathering up the tack.

"The gelding, boy," Angel barked.

"That one's not yours, sir," the boy replied. "It belongs to that short fella with the black vest and bowler hat."

"It's mine now." He waved the paper at him. "Now get the damn horse." The suspicious look the boy threw his way made him glad he'd gotten three witness signatures; he'd be damned before he got hung for being a horse thief.

He tied the mare's lead rope to one of the rings as he was brought his prize. With a shrewd eye, he looked the animal over, hands gliding over withers and flanks as he moved about. The chestnut beast was narrower than he generally preferred, but he'd known it would be. The cursory inspection would have to do; the animal didn't appear too lame for light travel.

He threw his saddle pad over the mare's back and began to tack up, keeping the gelding's rope in hand all the while. In a few minutes, he was astride the black and white horse and heading out with the other in tow. It took a couple of hours, but the small camp came into view as he rounded the last outcropping.

"Jesus Christ, Angel," the man at the fire cussed as the gambler rode in. "Another one?"

He didn't deign to reply. Dismounting, he tied the mare to the picket line and led the gelding closer to the fire where he could see it better. Its eyes began to roll and it pulled back on the rope, head lifting as it sank onto its haunches. A few snorts of distress accentuated its opinion. He made gentle shushing noises as he darted to the side, one hand up to draw the animal's attention to him while he turned them away from the flames. It quieted, but stayed at the end of the rope, ears flicking back.

"Easy, boy," Angel cooed. He took a small step forward, maintaining pressure on the rope. Changing hands, he snuck a little closer still. The animal's head turned so it could eye him, but it didn't pull away. "That's it. Good boy. That mean son-of-a-bitch ain't got you no more."

By the fire, his compatriot groaned and rolled his own eyes in exasperation. "What was it this time?"

Angel's eyes darted his way, a brief glare. "Bastard had a nasty set a spurs and no compunction about using 'em."

His disgust was evident. "You can't save them all."

"I saved this one," he replied defiantly. "If you don't like it, you can hit the damn road."

The man just shook his head and went back to stoking the fire. It wasn't snowing, but it was still cold in March. Angel had made it to the horse's shoulder by then and he stroked the beast with long, firm draws of his hand. Slowly, he made his way around.

It was in sound condition and lifted its feet without much fuss, so at least the farriers had been reasonably kind to it. He doubted the man in the bowler hat could have been bothered to check the hooves as Angel now did, working over the fleshy parts and dips and toe with careful precision. The shoes were nailed well, newly done from the looks of it.

Old blood was caked along its sides, scabbing over the places where the spurs had pierced without remorse. It flinched from his touch, so he left those places for now. The animal was already breathing hard enough; no need to torment it further. By the time he had passed behind the horse and worked his way back to its chest, he had reevaluated his opinions.

It may not have been as stocky or tall as what he usually rode, but it carried itself with a natural collection that could sometimes be hard to get even from reasonably well trained animals. It was better bred than he'd thought, but not for the kind of work that would be required of it out here. This was a horse better suited to that dainty stuff the English did.

A week passed. His companion left for better money. He kept moving. Another town, another poker table. Eventually, the wounds healed and all the gelding had to show for it were a few stray hairs of white. Angel itched to try the animal under saddle and, after a few more days, gave in to the urge.

He didn't really need a pack animal since he traveled lightly, so he hadn't asked for much in the way of work so far. Which meant it wasn't much of a surprise when, upon approaching the horse with his saddle, it danced away from him. It shied and dragged its feet, throwing up dust around the tree where he'd tied it. He stopped, waited for it to calm down, and tried again. With the same result. It took a half hour of such shenanigans before it finally stayed in place enough for him to lay hand on it.

"That's it," he praised. "Spirited thing, ain't ya?" He ran a hand over its withers and watched its ears. "I don't think this will be too bad. You'll see. You and me might get along just fine."

The snort it gave seemed a fairly straightforward response: I doubt it.

Piece by piece, he got the animal tacked up. Blanket. Saddle. Girth. Breast collar. By the time he was ready to try the bridle, risking his hands near the animal's mouth, the beast appeared to have gained some interest in the proceedings and tolerated his work. He reached over the saddle, waving his hand on the animal's other side. It glanced that way, but didn't seem bothered. He grabbed pommel and cantle, rocking the saddle, and received a similar response.

Tempted, he tested his boot in the stirrup only for the beast to suddenly dart forward a step. He laughed, having half expected it, and led it to circle around him before bringing it right back to where it had been standing. "Let's try that again," he commented and lifted his foot. This time it stayed still.

There were a couple more tests. Standing in just the one stirrup. Leaning way over the saddle and drawing the horse's attention again. More favorable responses. Slowly, he pivoted, swinging his leg over, and settled into the saddle. The gelding sighed, flicking an ear in his direction, but gave no other indication that he had bothered it.

A little pressure with his legs, a little slack in the reins, and they began to move. Oh. From walk to jog to lope, he encouraged the animal's pace. It moved...beautifully. He couldn't recall having ever owned an animal that flowed like this one. He lifted his hands slightly, giving the leg cues. If it was as well trained as he thought...yes! It lengthened its stride at once, responding to the subtle give and take of pressure with alacrity.

With a whoop of joy, he asked for more and they tore off across the landscape. The little chestnut gelding gave him everything. Quick turns. Flying lead changes. It never even balked at the unexpected sinkhole, collecting and carrying them over it as if it were all part of the plan. Heart beating wildly in his chest, he reined them in and patted the animal's neck heartily. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he scratched at the horse's mane.

"Yes, I think you and I will get along just fine indeed."

#alfred molina #angel #maverick #prompt - angel actually caring about creatures #erebus0dora #fluff #fanfic #muse kick #muse kicks

[kwebtv]

Four Feather Falls  -   ITV  -  February 25, 1960  -  November 17, 1960

Western Adventure / Puppets (39 episodes)

Running Time:  15 minutes

Character Voices:

Nicholas Parsons – Sheriff Tex Tucker (speaking voice) / Telegraph Operator Dan Morse / Various

Michael Holliday – Sheriff Tex Tucker (singing voice) / Various

Kenneth Connor – Dusty the Dog / Rocky the Horse / Pedro the Bandit / Big Chief Kalamakooya / Bank Manager Marvin Jackson / Doc Haggerty / Saloon Owner Slim Jim Denison / Various

David Graham – Grandpa Ebenezer Twink / Fernando the Bandit / Big Ben the Horse Rustler Bandit / Red Scalp the Renegade Indian / Various

Denise Bryer – Martha 'Ma' Jones / Little Jake / Makooya the Little Indian Boy / Various

Four Feather Falls is a British television program, the third puppet TV show produced by Gerry Anderson for Granada Television (now ITV Granada).   The series was the first to use an early version of Anderson's Supermarionation puppetry.  (Wikipedia)

#Four Feather Falls #TV #ITV #1960's #Western #Adventure #Puppets #Gerry Anderson