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a-hazbin-reader · 1 month

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Hey, I can see you're busy, but I know you like to see our OCs and I finally have two of them finished, at least their profiles. I don't have any sketches of the sort yet. Anyway, I'll send them seperately bc, as I said before, they are pretty damn long and I was not sure in the slightest what to cut out. I had a lot of revamping to do since I started these years ago and now that season 1 is out and done, changes needed to be made XD. Anyway, here's the first one and I'll send the second one shortly. Changes may be made in the future, but this is in fact the bare bones of the character and I'm quite proud of it :D.

Name: Jeanette “Jean” Sawyer

Gender: Female Born in: 1956 Died in: 1973 (age 17)

Cause of Death: Suicide/Hypothermia Height: 5’2 (alive), 5’10 (current)

Appearance: pale blue skin; black hair with white frosted tips on the end; eyes with icy blue sclera and a white iris; body type on the slender side, inverted triangle body type; forearms are larger than normal with white scars going down the length; often seen wearing warm clothes and arm warmers Species: Sinner Nickname/s: Jean, Jeannie, Shrimp, Kid, Kiddo, Shortstack, Toots Likes: cooking, skating, milkshakes with french fries, mini golf, listening to music, watching movies, carnivals, singing, dancing, trying new things, board games, cats, people watching, anything soft and warm, stargazing, camping Dislikes: the Vees (Vox and Valentino in particular), the cold, the dark, her arms, pineapples, most electronics, being the center of attention Sexuality: Lesbian Sins: Suicide Job: Hazbin Hotel Patron Background: It is difficult to get a grasp on what kind of person Jean is at first glance considering how much distance she puts between herself and others. In life and in death, stability was a luxury that Jean never truly had, making it difficult to open up to others, let alone fully trust another person. The only trustworthy constant in her life was her hardworking mother, whom she always looked to as a role model, confidant, and caretaker.

Life was rather difficult, but both felt that having each other was all they needed. One day, Jean’s mother died, leaving her with nobody to care for her. For two years after, Jean was passed around in foster homes where she was beaten, scolded, and (the final nail in the coffin) had a foster parent attempt to sexually assault her. In a flash of panic, she killed her would-be rapist and she couldn’t help but fall into despair, deciding to take her own life after fleeing the current foster home in the middle of a blizzard.

Upon entering hell, Jean was more confused and helpless than ever. Once her first extermination came around, her mother found her and brought her to safety where they would essentially live life from where they left off. Jean rarely went out on her own with the fear of the sinners often leaving her frightened for herself and her mother who often left to provide for them both. At a sudden point, her mother seemed to vanish for a few days before returning to her. Things seemed to change after that. It seemed her mother was bringing in more money than ever before, leaving them much better off; however, many things felt off as well. For one thing, her mother seemed to be more on edge. She also wouldn’t allow any electronics other than what she tinkered with and any time Jean ever went out, she never went alone. Then one day, her mother never came home and couldn’t be contacted. Concerned for her mother’s wellbeing, she searched for any leads and she found one in her work-related files: a business card belonging to VoxTek.

Upon entering Vee Tower to inquire about her mother’s whereabouts, she was swiftly intercepted by Vox himself. He told her she was indeed in the building devoting herself to a new project he put her on and offered her a tour as the daughter of one of his ‘top employees.’ She hesitantly accepted, wanting to heed the warning her mother gave of interacting with strangers yet drawn into the shiny new world she had just entered. Jean had never seen technology so advanced before and began to wonder why her mother never showed any of it if she indeed worked there. The answer became all too clear once two people inserted themselves into the situation: her mother, who found out she was there and rushed to protect her, and Valentino, who spotted the young sinner with no master and was drawn in immediately.

One thing led to another and, upon Valentino harming Jean, her mother incapacitated both of the overlords in order for Jean to escape. Unfortunately, her mother was not so lucky. For ten years going forward, Jean lived in hiding and fought to survive on the meager resources her mother stashed away and what little she could receive from her via care packages. Jean often read the hand-written notes her mother included with them in order to feel close considering the danger of meeting with each other in person. Even from a distance, her mother always relayed the same message, which was also the last words she ever heard from her mother: ‘Keep your soul. Don’t trust these dealmakers.’

After some time, Jean accidentally trespassed onto the turf of a mysterious entity (at least as far as the other residents of Hell save for a few were concerned). She was quick to find out the entity’s true identity: a powerful sinner named Sibelle, a girl around her age that perished centuries ago for witchcraft. She allowed Jean to stay in her territory and over time, the two grew extremely close even to the point of Sibelle wanting to make a deal. Jean was quick to try and decline until she heard the terms of the deal: Sibelle was offering her soul and in exchange, Jean was free to summon her and use her power so long as it wasn’t for selfish reasons. In the former’s eyes, the latter would be able to call on her should she need help while she was outside the territory. As Sibelle would explain, her power is prone to force her into violent rampages and she had been in search of someone she had full trust in to form a soul contract with in order to keep her in control. After a while of asking, Jean had been worn down and accepted the deal. Not long after, Jean had decided to move on despite Sibelle’s protests and pleads to stay for her safety. However, she was sure that she couldn’t stay forever as she was now determined to find a way to free her mother from her contract with Vox.

One day, Jean encountered Charlie and Vaggie as they were recruiting patrons for the hotel. Charlie was more than eager to drag her along and talk Jean’s ear off about her idea and, with the short amount of time they had known each other, that she’s positive that she had an excellent chance at redemption. Mainly because of curiosity, hope and really having little else to do, Jean accepted and moved into the hotel to see she was one of two patrons. Once Alastor and his crew enter the picture, she does feel her walls coming down and finally confides in Angel Dust about her past, feeling he would understand considering their connection with Valentino. In Angel’s words, if Valentino ever found out she was there, it wouldn’t be from him.

Outside of redemption exercises, Jean can be seen throughout the hotel interaction with the other residents doing a number of things such as: playing cards with Husk, babysitting Fat Nuggets, and being Alastor’s unwilling little helper. She would grow especially close with Angel Dust and Husk, growing to see them as an older brother and father figure respectively. Personality: As previously stated, Jean faces some serious trust issues due to lack of stability in her life and (the very obvious) trauma inflicted on her by those she was told she could trust. It would take a great deal of work and time to break her walls down, which is honestly what she is hoping to find (basically, too afraid to initiate steps to build trust and needs others to take the first step…s). She’s quiet, almost to the point she sneaks up on people and spooking them with no intention to do so. Many initially found it creepy save for Alastor, who found the startled reactions to be quite amusing.

Despite this, the persona Jean puts on in front of others is one she copies from her mother: a no-nonsense spitfire that refuses to submit to anyone. Of course, it is merely a front she copies as she’s seen her mother use in order to deal with the more threatening individuals. Dying at the age she did, Jean did find it easy to be rebellious though it clearly proved to be her downfall many times. Although her age makes her more prone to naivety and recklessness, it does allow Jean to remain open to new ideas (hence willing to try redemption) and not become set in her ways like a lot of adults tend to do with age. Unfortunately, this also means that Jean’s younger mind isn’t able to handle emotions and stress as well as an adult would, making her prone to emotional outbursts and meltdowns.

Habits & Quirks:

Jean wears arm warmers constantly even if she is wearing long sleeves

Is a quiet person to the point where she ends up sneaking up on people

Is always cold, most likely due to dying partially to hypothermia; strangely the intensity of how cold she feels depends on her mood

Has a terrible sense of direction. One of the very few reasons she owns a smartphone is for the GPS. It’s also why she studied astronomy when she was alive in order to read the stars for direction.

Trivia:

Jean has a baby face, making her look younger than she actually is. It’s especially amusing when Charlie practically exclaims “not in front of the baby!” or “she’s just a baby!” while covering Jean’s eyes and/or ears. It can be quite embarrassing yet she can’t help but feel slightly flattered. But mostly frustrated and embarrassed.

Jean gives nicknames to all her friends and family, using them in her journal and as their contact name in her phone. She rarely addresses them with these names in real life, but likes to do so on occasion

Charlie: Princess Bedhead 👑🥱

Vaggie: The Warden ⚔️

Husk: ♣️King of Clubs♣️ (AKA ♥️Dad♥️)

Jean is seen to be very sentimental. Considering how little she had in life, it made sense to her to place value in the very few things she did possess. Her most prized possession is a photograph she managed to hold onto as she died of her and her mother at their local state fair.

Since the confrontation with Vox, Jean had developed an aversion to most electronics, even the ones not developed by VoxTek. She still gets anxiety any time she has to pass by any screen.

STOP WHY CAN I PICTURE HER AND FAT NUGGETS CUDDLING I CAN'T-

#THE AMOUNT OF LOVE #AND THOUGHT YOU #PUT INTO HER #AMAZING #I'M JEALOUS #NEVER STOP

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

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Chief wich one of ur ocs is the best to take out on a Halloween night? With full costume and shi

We don't have Halloween here but I got curious 🤔 -🎃

My monster/sheet ghost oc Casper only comes out around Halloween and raids countless neighborhoods to bring you your favorite treats.

Liu embraces their hidden horrors and walks around in their parasite form, ready to bite the next person that tries to touch their face and carrying you around like a purse dog

Screamscicle. Screamscicle. Halloween is quite literally year round for this goofball. They stitch together a new costume leading up to the big day nearly twice every month. It breaks their heart each year to decide between a scary, "are you sure those aren't real organs" costume and a soft, innocent "I demand all your candy" vibe. Either way, you'll be returning to town at the crack with trash bags full of sweets. If the town holiday is in swing, you'll get up to a bit of mischief before you head out. Please don't give Apple or Milk Tea heartaches...again.

Cinnabar and Izzy love autumn/winter as a whole. As the weather cools, Izzy is able to venture outside with you more - and Cinnabar loves to welcome you home with a fresh batch of rolls and your drink of choice. As for Halloween, Cinnabar makes or looks for matching costumes for your trio (any suggestions lemme know). She makes popcorn balls and rice treat bars for treaters that stop by before you head out for the night - hiding a few in the back for you.

Honestly all of the candy fiends are good for the holidays. Gumi and Lollie rob trick or treat with you, but they also make you goodie bags out of their own flesh and blood like Sucrose, Jollie and Mocha.

D.Kay, Devlin, and Silas are the night's greatest tricksters. D.Kay sets up a haunted house in whatever location they can find, and doesn't let anyone leave until their smiling - while also ripping their mask off and revealing the endoskeleton underneath... probably covered in the skin of the last person that fucked with you. Devlin and Silas stage robberies and shot each other dead to sell the show. Whoever brings you more junk - whether it be money, candy, or lawn statues, gets to pick the night's movie and eat sixty percent of their haul as you cuddle. Silas goes as Ghost face. Devlin is the headless horseman. D.Kay is....D.Kay

Alien takes you to go alien hunting.....it doesn't go well with their shiny ass costume and platform boots. Once again, the only thing that's extraterrestrial is the time that you spend together - and their bones as they crack their neck and scare passing trick or treats out of their bags. This is the one night you can get them to try some ghost summoning rituals and if there's a ghost in the mirror... There's no more mirror. They're cool with a ghost from an ouija board because they can touch your hand.

C.C takes you out to a rave...after starting the night at a haunted house with Amyas if he's involved and ditching him there. Ass out, tits out - C.C is showing you his best moves and doesn't quit until he's passed out on your couch. Unfortunately, you'll have to sleep there too as his claws are quite literally embed into your clothes/clothes.

Gus, Ventri and Rush... (With the reluctant help of Sir) put together a mini circus in your living room/backyard. Popcorn machine, balloon station, face paints. If you can think it, they'll probably do or have it. Ventri steers clear of the apple picking game because they are afraid of their paint rubbing off - Gus is found head first still in the bucket. Sir is a little Jealous of Rush's candy giving methods (they are a living candy machine that dispenses them through their mouth), but he'll just tongue kiss you to get over it.

It's already been shown in last year's Halloween event that Host upstages this all. His entire stage and crowd becomes a circus for you, and he dons a new persona to fit the part. You'll always be the star here, but he has so many wonderful things to give and reveal to you. Aren't you lucky?

Miller hosts a big stream. With your consent, they hold costumes up at different goals for you to put on. They're all met before the first hour is up, and you're left changing countless times during that period. Miller orders whatever your heart desires and ends the stream earlier than planned so you can get up to something without the attention

Pin is another who makes costumes for you, and they're probably the best of the bunch. If you hand out treats they made the perfect prop and scare for your yard. You can convince them to take off their body, but they'll make the most elaborate and attention catching husk if you don't. Rag doll, scare-crow, or what makes them happiest and whatever goes along with yours

Ruthieland is great for the holidays. Despite being over the age limit, you're given a bucket for treats and allowed to wear your costume. Farmer Crow is especially active and always looks for you in a crowd when it's time for one of their "staged" kidnappings. Ruthie hovers around you and just dumps all of his candy into your bag when it's refilled

All hell breaks loses with the fast food yans. Halloween is when the fog that separates your realty from the ball pit entity is weakest. The mascot traverses outside the establishment to find supplies for their big surprise. The janitor is barricading you in the break room with strange symbols drawn in blood on the door. The ice cream machine ghost is searching for you and comes across your other coworker still smoking in the bathroom. Kidney Guy has gained a few more mouths from a passing van of college kids... and is singing the monster mash to lull you into false security.

Elliot creates the perfect film for the two of you to watch, mixed in with a few classics. If you think you recognize any of the actors...no you don't. More popcorn?

To round things out with the person who I think is the worse on halloween.... it's V it's always fucking V. If he has his way - you'll be walking around in strings... only for him to get jealous at the thought of others seeing you when you've finally worn him down to go out and do something. At least he buys candy and rents whatever films you want to see?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons

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katiekatdragon27 · 8 months

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First project for college wooooooooo-

More details under the cut:

I made this for school as a sort of interactive self-portrait. I think I misinterpreted the prompt (even if it was super vague anyway), but honestly, getting to draw all these ocs was worth it.

Here are their names and some bare-bones stuff about them:

The Orange Cat: Cattington Stamper

A Battleblock Theater oc. He was a stowaway on the ending ship and grew up in the city on the mainland. A nervous wreck with trauma and daddy issues.

The Shiny-ish Furret: Katt Furrocy

A Pokémon Mystery Dungeon oc. She is a writer with psychic powers who basically "documented" the "real world" story of my old PMD series. She is the most normal one here.

The Blue-Green Slugcat: The Herbalist

A Rain World oc. They were tasked with helping an iterator with an airborne rot. They are semi-aquatic but have breathing problems, hence the mask.

The Purple StoryBot: Raven Reallystressed

A StoryBots oc. She's a transfer from my old computer into my new one, resembling the use of my computer in a scholarly way. She's an introverted jerk who writes fanfiction.

The Grey Grumpus: Skrunckly "Skunck" Scrincklyscrimblo

A Bugsnax oc. He is the reason I got my footing on Tumblr. This guy is my journalist interpretation: clumsy, indestructible, and probably made of Bugsnax.

The "Watchdog": Iris Lash

A Wonder Over Yonder oc. She is from a different galaxy where "Watchdogs" are called "Seekers and Seers." She is smart, strong, and wants to overthrow the government.

The Strawberry: Strawbeary

My old OSC objectsona. I have since retired her from that role, but now she is more of a beast who is fairly bloodthirsty.

The Sketchpad: Sketchpad "Sketchy"

My OSC oc. They are the host of a show I'm working on called SPIRIT. Will I ever complete it? Unlikely, but I can try. She is eccentric and friendly but very tone-deaf and oblivious.

The Purple Dragon Cat: Katelyn Kendelle

An oc. She has been one of my forefront characters for YEARS. Despite all the changes to her character over that time, some things stayed the same: her obnoxious height, her intelligence, and her ability to reset the universe once before death.

The Blue Rodent: Kyt Sycamore

An oc. This is probably one of my most fleshed out characters since I am writing a novel for the guy. He is hot-headed with a lot to prove. No one really respects him, tho :/

The last two are me ✌️✌️.

And the little drawing on the board is Cup, my South Park oc of both Canadian and American descent. An abomination, if you will.

So yeah, enjoy the rambling and come say hi if you wanna talk about any of these with me👍

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reader6898 · 5 months

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The Wolfpack Queen

Pairing: OC Talia x Commander Wolffe

Series Summary: Talia joins the Wolfpack as their new medic. Wolffe doesn't understand why everyone likes her. What happens when opposites attract? Sparks will fly between two people who didn't know they needed each other

Warning: 18+ (no minors allowed), violence, assault and attempted assault (not descriptive), slavery and mentions of slavery, mentions of prostitution (not descriptive), ptsd, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

Additional tags: future chapters will have chapter warnings because both Wolffe and Talia go through it 😭

Chapter summary: Wolffe makes his appearance 🐺

Chapter 2

“We don’t have time”. “The air is getting a bit stale, sir.” “We’re just clones.” “No one is coming for us.” “We’re expendable.” Wolffe woke up from the nightmare he was having and for a moment forgot where he was before he realized he was in his new quarters. He was safe. Safe and alive. Wolffe quickly got up and sat on the edge of the bed as he caught his breath. Every time he had the same dream Wolffe tried his best to not let it affect him. He was the commander of the 104th. He had to stay strong for his men so he buried his feelings but when he was alone Wolffe lived through that day over and over again. The memory and trauma of losing most of his entire battalion will stick with him for the rest of his life. Wolffe ran a hand over his face and through his hair before standing up to put the armor he took off back on. As he was finishing up there was a bang on his door and a voice screaming at him from the other side. “Wolffe, wake up!” Wolffe rolled his eyes as he went over and opened the door. Boost and Sinker were on the other side waiting for him and he scowled at them. “The kriff you want?” “Just wanted to make sure you were up”, Sinker says. Wolffe adjusted his belt and walked out with Boost and Sinker following behind him. “Well I’m up.” Sinker and Boost looked at one another but didn’t say anything as they continued to follow Wolffe to the command center. “Is everyone on board?” Sinker joined Wolffe. “Yes, sir. We’re just waiting for your command to take off.” Wolffe nodded in acknowledgement. “Very good. Comm Zero and tell him to take off.” “Yes, sir.” Boost and Sinker went their separate ways and Wolffe joined up with the general as he walked into the command center. The kel dor looked up and acknowledged Wolffe when he saluted him. “General.” “At ease, commander. I assume that everything is in order?” “Yes, sir. We should be taking off momentarily.” Plo Koon nodded his head and went back to studying something on the screen. “Anything else, sir?” “That is all, Wolffe. You may go now.” Wolffe saluted once more. “Yes, general.” The kel dor had always been a mystery to Wolffe and with him being a Jedi it made him even more mysterious but that didn’t stop them from fighting alongside one another. Wolffe walked over to the controls to make sure everything was under control then watched through the viewing window and watched as they launched into space.

Once they were on their way to the next planet Wolffe joined Sinker in the hangar where his men were waiting. All of them stood at attention when he entered and stood still as Wolffe walked up to the group. “Welcome to the 104th battalion. My name is Commander Wolffe and right here is Sergeant Sinker. Later on you will also be meeting the general but for now you will be dealing with us. During your time here you will report to either me or Sergeant Sinker and you will do as we say. Now, I won’t waste your time or mine so get to work.” The men saluted Wolffe and Sinker. A bunch of yes sir were shouted and the men went their separate ways. Wolffe then turned to Sinker. “Keep an eye on them. I don’t want the shinies fucking anything up.” “Got it Commander.” Wolffe looks back at his men for a moment before walking away and going about his day.

You woke up with a start when there was a sudden knock on your door. You grabbed the vibro blade you kept on your leg and quietly approached the door. “Who is it?”, you asked with a cautious tone. “It’s me. Jax.” You let out a sigh of relief and put your blade back before opening the door. Jax stood there with a tray of what you assumed was food from the mess hall. “You missed dinner so I figured I would bring you this.” You looked at him with a shocked look. “Wha-What time is it?” “0900.” You rubbed the rest of your sleep out of your eyes and took the tray. “Thanks. I didn’t miss anything important did I?” Jax nodded his head. “You’re all good. Have a good rest of your night. Oh, and I expect to see you in the medbay tomorrow. Gotta perform some physicals on the new guys.” “Yeah. I’ll uh..see you tomorrow then.” Jax walks away and you slide your door closed before sitting down. You take a bite of your food and while it wasn’t great it was better than what you had been served in the past. You eat the rest of your food and set the tray to the side. You then unpack your things and after you put everything away you get ready for bed. After you finish you climb into bed and go on your holopad for a while before setting it to the side. You turn off your light and lie down. You lie there for a while before you close your eyes and right back into a deep sleep.

Tagging: @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @moonlightwarriorqueen @wizardofrozz @multi-fan-dom-madness @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit @523rdrebel

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liaromancewriter · 1 year

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Christmas Tree Traditions

Premise: Decorating the Christmas Tree is a chance to create new traditions.

Book: Open Heart (pre and post-series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Cassie Valentine (F!MC); feat. Max Valentine (M!OC) and Olivia Valentine (F!OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 2,500

A/N: Submission for @choicesficwriterscreations Holiday celebration event and @choicesholidays week 2 “that’s the holiday spirit”. Also submitting to @choicesdecember2022 Day 16 prompt “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve”. I’m also using @choicesflashfics week 13 prompt 3 and holiday prompts 51 and 93, all in bold.

Part 1: The beginning of something new

The bright sunshine and seventy-degree temperatures were as far from the snowy Christmas of her youth as it could get. But inside the luxury condominium on Miami’s South of Fifth, there were signs of the season in the festive garlands decked across the windows, a beautifully decorated tree and a matching wreath on the door.

After hanging the last ornament in place, Olivia Valentine stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“Wow!”

She grinned at the chorus of appreciation behind her. Olivia glanced over her shoulder to find Cassie and Max staring at the tree with wide-eyed gazes, speechless for once.

The twins were still wearing their school uniforms. Olivia spied fallen schoolbags near the door and sighed inwardly. Her near-daily reminder to put away their backpacks rather than dump them in the entrance still hadn’t taken hold. A battle for another time, she thought.

“Do you like it?” she asked, holding out her hands and taking comfort when they snuggled on either side of her.

In a couple of years, they would say they were too old to cuddle with their mother. For now, she would savor the memories.

“It’s so pretty,” Cassie whispered reverently.

She reached for a shiny blue bell-shaped ornament and then stopped, whipping her hand behind her back. She regarded her mother, her eyes asking for permission, and Olivia nodded.

Cassie and Max crowded around the tree, their oohs and aahs mingling with the jingle of ornamental bells.

“Can I hang the ballerina ornament we made in class?” Cassie asked with eagerness and hope in her voice.

“I made a Spiderman ornament,” Max piped in excitedly. “He can guard the tree against the Green Goblin.”

“Not on this tree, sweetie,” Olivia said, mentally kicking herself when she watched disappointment gather in her children’s eyes.

And then an idea formed in her head, one that was as bittersweet as it was inspired.

“But maybe you can hang them on your own tree, just like I did when I was your age,” she said, smiling when they perked up with interest.

Olivia braced herself when the twins launched themselves at her. As they wrapped their arms around her waist and hugged her tight, she felt her heart melt.

“Can we really?” They chorused, surprised and intrigued.

“Yes. When we were seven, your aunt Elizabeth and I got to decorate our own tree,” Olivia explained, her heart hitching at the thought of her twin. “It was a small, plastic one for our dorm room at boarding school, but we had so much fun doing it together every year. It became our tradition, and it can be yours, too.”

“Can we pick our own tree?” Max tilted his head back, his green eyes pleading. “Please?”

“Today? Please, mom? Please?” Cassie joined in.

Olivia found herself nodding in agreement, their excitement chasing away her maudlin thoughts

At the end of the day, Olivia leaned against the doorway and watched her children decorate their first tree. Their happiness was contagious, giggles and laughter filling the air, and she knew it had been the right call.

The decorations were a strange hodgepodge of comic book action figures, ballerina dolls, Matchbox cars on strings and handmade cardboard ornaments. But it was theirs, and that’s what mattered.

“Your ornaments are crooked,” Cassie teased her brother, hanging her own with precision.

“No, they’re not,” Max countered, eyes determined as he haphazardly stuck a red car on his side of the tree.

And at that moment, a new tradition was born.

Part 2: The end of an era

Cassie Valentine sighed in relief as she left the pile-up on the B-W Parkway behind. After being stuck for over an hour, traffic was finally moving. She accelerated, hoping to make up for the lost time.

She was going to DC for her and Max’s annual tree decorating party. A ritual started all those years ago continued to be one of their most enduring traditions. It was even more special this time since it might be the last one. She would hopefully start her residency next summer; who knew where she’d be next Christmas?

With finals only a couple of weeks away, she mentally reviewed her notes during the rest of the drive. But her mind was also stuck on everything she should have done differently during her match interview at Edenbrook last week. Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, she thought morosely.

It was already late afternoon by the time she left Key Bridge and followed Max’s directions to the entrance of his building. Parking in the visitor’s area, she entered the lobby, craning her head to take in the contemporary and luxurious surroundings.

She exited the elevator on the penthouse floor and strode past the first of two doors to park herself outside her brother’s new apartment. Unrolling her scarf with one hand, she pressed the doorbell with the other.

Seconds later, the door swung open and then she was in her brother’s arms, lifted off her feet as Max hugged her tight.

“I missed you,” he said, setting her down and closing the door.

“This is a fancy pants building,” she exclaimed, handing him her winter coat and clutching his arm as she bent down to unzip and remove her boots.

“Wait till you see the rest of it,” he said, leading her into the living room and the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the Potomac.

The first thing Cassie saw was the untrimmed tree in the corner, surrounded by boxes of ornaments and decorations collected over the years. The second was a tall building that housed the Hudson Group’s global headquarters in Rosslyn, framed between the undraped windows.

Typical, she thought, laughter escaping; the prince surveying his future kingdom. He must have read her thoughts because he chuckled and shrugged good-naturedly.

“Want the grand tour?”

Cassie followed him as he took her upstairs and downstairs from one room to another. There were moving boxes stacked against the walls, some open, others closed. The apartment lacked furniture, but he explained his plan to slowly furnish it, including the guest bedroom that was hers whenever she wanted to stay with him.

As they returned to the living room, Cassie thought about all the temporary places they’d lived in growing up. The mediocre apartments he’d rented over the years, a place to sleep and nothing more. And knew that this was different.

“You’ve bought yourself a home,” she said, awestruck, throwing her arms around him. “Max! This is your forever home.”

“Mine and the bank’s anyway,” he said, looking around at the empty walls but seeing something completely different. “You know, if you hadn’t signed the collateral papers for the trust, I doubt the bank would have approved the mortgage.”

“Well, you helped me pay for med school,” she said simply. “Anyway, you never ask me for anything, so when you did, I knew it was important.”

She glanced around the apartment again. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and she thought this was what being a grown-up was all about. She had spent the last ten years in one university after another and wondered when her adult life would truly begin.

She leaned her head on his shoulder when he joined her at the window. “First, a huge promotion at work and now your own home. I’m so proud of you. You’ve got it figured out.”

He must have heard the weepiness in her voice, for he turned her around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” she said, sniffing away her tears. “The last few weeks have been so stressful. The match interviews didn’t go as I’d hoped; at least, I don’t think they did. What if I don’t match into Edenbrook, or at all? Almost five percent of applicants don’t. Then, the last four years would have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t believe that at all,” he said, dismissing the worst-case scenario. “If the idiots at Edenbrook can’t see how amazing you are, then they don’t deserve you. And neither does your Dr. Ramsey.”

Cassie smiled at the idea of the great Dr. Ethan Ramsey even knowing her name, let alone caring how amazing she could be as a doctor. If only she could get a chance to prove herself.

“I’m also sad that this might be the last year we trim our tree together,” she said, getting to the heart of her disquiet. “Everything’s changing. If I do get matched, then I’ll have to move away. Residency is intense, and we’ll hardly see each other.”

“Wherever you go, I’ll make sure we see each other as often as possible. It’s Twin Code, okay?” he said, squeezing her arm, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

His lips twisted with wry acknowledgment. “And if it’s the last time—which I don’t think it is, FYI—let’s make it count, sis.”

Half an hour later, the tree was almost done, with just a few finishing touches left. Cassie munched popcorn and wondered when the pizza would arrive.

“Would you stop eating all of the popcorn! It’s supposed to go on the tree!” Max grumbled as he reached for the bowl, only to find it half empty.

“But I’m hungry! And who puts popcorn on a tree anyway?” Cassie rolled her eyes and sneakily grabbed a fistful, ignoring Max’s protests.

“You can do whatever you want with your half of the tree,” he said, deliberately enunciating each word. “My half of the tree gets strings of popcorn.”

Cassie shrugged and looped the ancient ballerina ornament before stepping back from the tree to view their progress. As usual, her side of the tree was neat and orderly, while Max’s half looked like ornaments had exploded on the branches.

“Every damn year,” she griped, shaking her head in dismay. “Your ornaments are crooked!”

“No, they’re not,” he countered, flicking his finger against a plastic toy car with faded red paint and sending it spinning on the string.

The tree had no discernible theme or style to anyone else. It was a mix of old and new ornaments, shiny tinsel, candy canes and popcorn strings. But for the twins, it represented who they were and the continuity of traditions they valued above all. Their own Christmas tree to decorate and Twin Code.

It might be the last time they would do this together, but it wasn’t the end, only a beginning.

Part 3: New traditions

Cassie cradled her pregnant belly and waddled over from the kitchen to the living room, where Ethan had set the untrimmed Christmas tree near the windows. She tapped her fingers against her lips, eyes narrowed in concentration as she examined the tree he had selected from all angles.

She would have gone with Ethan any other year to choose the tree. It was one of her favorite things to do in the season. But at thirty weeks, she felt like a bloated whale and bloody uncomfortable.

She thought the twins might have permanently parked themselves on her bladder; that is when they weren’t somersaulting in there.

“Well? Does it earn the Cassie Valentine seal of approval?” Ethan asked from behind her.

He placed a box with the ornaments and other decorations she had selected for this year’s theme on the coffee table.

“I’ve taught you well, babe,” Cassie teased. “Remember the first year we went tree shopping? Why you thought a scrawny, anemic tree could be redeemed is beyond me.”

She shook her head in mock dismay and sighed heavily, grinning when Ethan rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

He eased her onto the couch, lifted her legs and placed her swollen feet on an ottoman. And then he got to work, following her instructions dutifully while ignoring her kibitzing.

Cassie hummed as she recalled her first tree trimming with Ethan. It had been during her third year of residency. She’d raised the possibility of decorating his apartment for the holidays. He scoffed at the notion, but she was relentless.

“What’s it going to take to convince you?” she asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Well, it had taken a few nights of “convincing,” but she won in the end. One Sunday, when they were both free, they went to a tree lot near his apartment and bought their first Christmas tree together.

She couldn’t help but remember the last time she and Max had worked on their tree. Before she came to Edenbrook and met Ethan and fell in love with her medical hero. And before she knew that Boston was where she belonged.

Trimming the tree together had felt intimate, the start of something new. Ethan was more than happy to leave the decoration planning to her, telling her he was the brawn to her brain in this scenario.

As Cassie decorated the tree, she shared memories of childhood Christmases and all the Valentine traditions she held dear.

When she asked him about Ramsey family traditions in an offhand manner, he went silent for a while. And then he met her gaze, his blue eyes serious.

“I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up.”

“So, how about we start our own?” Cassie said, taking his hand to interlock their fingers.

“Like what?” He cocked an eyebrow, doubt coloring his voice. “I’m not a child to be indulged, Cassie.”

“Traditions have nothing to do with childhood and everything to do with how they make you feel,” she told him with great authority. “On this, I’m an expert. So, trust me?”

Cassie still remembered how they brainstormed ideas, using the whiteboard in his home office to jot down a list, very much like when they discussed differentials in a diagnostics team meeting.

They settled on decorating the tree, followed by hot cocoa—with marshmallows and whipped cream for her—and cuddling on the couch in front of the fireplace. It was simple and lowkey, but it suited both of them.

Returning to the present, Cassie joined Ethan in hanging the last two ornaments. She wanted some part of trimming the tree this year, even if it was something small. He took the star topper from her hand and stretched his arm to place it at the top of the tree.

She stepped back to admire Ethan’s work and nodded in appreciation. “Gold star, babe.”

Later, she sipped her hot cocoa and nestled against Ethan’s side, watching the flames in the fireplace crackle. She smiled when Ethan folded her in his arms, his lips brushing against the side of her forehead.

In a few weeks, their girls would be here, and everything would change again, Cassie thought.

This tradition had served them well. But in a few years, they would create new ones with their children. Maybe the girls would enjoy having their own Twin Tree to decorate. Or perhaps they would choose something else.

The best thing about traditions was not what was but what could be. And Cassie couldn’t wait to see what the future would bring.

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

All Fics & Edits: @a-crepusculo @annfg8 @bex-la-get @bluebelle08 @cariantha @choicesaddict5 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @mysticalgalaxysstuff @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @takemyopenheart @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @trappedinfanfiction @vi-writes-stuff @zahrachoices

Submissions: @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie @lady-calypso @hopelessromantic1352

#open heart #open heart choices #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creations #cfwc holidays 2022 #open heart fanfics #choices fanfics #open heart fanfiction #writers on tumblr #christmas fic #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #ethan x mc

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ashthedrawer · 3 months

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•OC FICLET•

Characters: Winola (she/her), Felix (he/him), Haru (he/him), Reese (they/them), Cora (she/her), Cormac (he/him)

Characters in purple all belong to @jiphenn

When they resurfaced, Winola found herself in a nice little cabin.

There was a fireplace burning, a hazy orange glow emitting from it, filling the entire room with a cozy warmth as it crackled. A few couches were stretched out in the room, a couple blankets draped over their backs, giving it a homey type of look, and in middle of one of them, sat at a man.

He was tall and muscular, with long black hair that hung past his shoulders, tanned skin, a light bit of stubble, and dark eyes. He was sprawled out on the couch, seemingly at peace for about two seconds, before he spotted the glowing blue portal in the middle of the living room - and the group of unexpected visitors.

“Reese?” He quickly sprung up, running over to them. He cupped their cheek, looking at them in apparent shock. “Are you okay? Why are you here? Who are these guys?”

“I’m fine Haru, I’ll explain everything in a second.” They gave him a quick kiss.

He took in the rest of the Board Game Club, Akali’s family, Shehani, and Una, and his shock faded away, obviously not pleased to find a bunch of teenagers standing there gaping at him.

No one moved or spoke for what felt like forever, the group just standing there blinking at each other, before another voice cut through the silence. “Reese?!” Someone loudly exclaimed. There was a flash of a very familiar-looking head of orange hair before another body bounced on top of the medic. “What are you doing here? You’re not hurt are you?”

“I’m fine, honey.” Never in a million years would Winola have expected to see her old Math teacher standing in front of her, arms wrapped around Reese tightly. She blinked in shock, mouth falling open slightly, unable to contain her surprise.

It was Ms. Cora.

Cora turned to look at the group, eyes scanning over them before she came to realize who exactly she was staring at. Her body froze and her eyes went shiny, instantly filling with tears. She leapt onto them, pulling all of them into a tight hug and sobbing in relief. “I’m so glad you’re all alive. I was so worried about you guys.”

Winola could feel Felix melt into the hug beside her, breaking down into small, shaky cries, his body trembling all over. Cora just hugged them all tighter, still sobbing.

After a while she pulled away (which Winola was immensely glad for) and turned her attention towards Felix, noticing for the first time his bloody face. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. “What happened to you?”

Felix’s expression crumpled at the softness in her voice, and he broke down again, his eyes squeezed tight as tears slipped back down his cheeks. Cora wrapped her arms around him again, gently rubbing his back, and Felix clung onto her, like she was the only thing keeping him upright. “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” She whispered.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up.” She took him by the hand, leading him down the hall, Felix still sobbing brokenly as he followed her, gripping her hand back tight.

“Winola…?” Amidst the chaos, Winola heard a small voice call her name.

Cormac stared at her with wide eyes.

He looked no different than the day that she left him. He had the same short reddish-brown hair, the same bright green eyes, the same pale skin. All minus for a new pair of clothes, and the fact that he had what looked like slight eyebags now.

He instantly threw himself on her, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing so tightly that it hurt, all while sobbing loudly. Winola reluctantly gave him a hug back, the action feeling foreign after so long. He was alive.

“Where were you? Why did you leave me?!” He held onto her tighter, burying his face in her shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

Winola didn’t know what to think. The truth was, she had been happy, thinking she’d never have to see him again. She been at peace. There had been this sort of feeling of relief, knowing he was gone, knowing Fergus was gone, knowing Freida was gone. She had been… free.

But here he was, crying in her arms, holding onto her like she was the only thing that mattered. She felt numb. She couldn’t make herself feel sorry for him, couldn’t make herself care for him. He was just another annoyance, another reason why she’d be cursed to live in this hellhole of a life, forever.

She patted his back almost subconsciously, the action coming back to her before she really knew what she was doing. Her ears were ringing.

He was actually alive. Cora had… kept him.

#here’s a little snippet from a fic I’m working on 😜#dioles tag #oc: Haru #oc: Reese #oc: Cora #oc: Winola #oc: Cormac #oc: Felix #my ocs #ocs #oc fic

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lovelyprincessn64 · 5 months

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Thanksgiving Day request event

Gobble gobble that's right this is the month of feast in the middle of the cozy autumn and this year is something special for the middle of November welcome to the Thanksgiving request event everything evolving around food and all kinds of crazy things that go bumping in the middle of fall.

Step right up and don't be shy but most importantly watch out for the Black Friday apocalypse and here is today's menu for a special month of the turkey.

1. Shopping for ingredients

2. Black Friday chaos

3. Cozy nights

4. Turkey day

5. Hunting for turkeys

6. Your ocs (Thanksgiving theme or your choice of picking)

7. Arts n crafts

8. Cooking for dinner

9. Cookbook

10. Thanksgiving Massacre

11. Leftovers

12. Thanksgiving specials

13. Clean up party

14. Animal Crossing

15. Horror themes

16. Decorations party

17. Room for dessert

18. Charlie Brown

19. A new day A New Hope

20. Day off from work

21. Food fight

22. Hungry night

23. Babysitting kids

24. A special toast

25. Raking up leaves

26. Wholesome love

27. Commercials (fan made or references as long if it's good)

28. Parodies of laughing

29. Mischievous Pranksters

30. Sweet as honey

31. To do list

32. Pumpkin harvesting

33. Getting ready for Christmas

34. Order up

35. A day with family

36. Freebirds

37. Break from school

38. Day of madness

39. Japan Thanksgiving theme

40. Delicious goodies

41. Crazy cinnamon day

42. Yuffie's birthday

43. Baking bread for days

44. Jammed up

45. Rosalina's birthday

46. Any type of Thanksgiving theme

47. Thanksgiving prompts

48. Bakery fun time

49. Brightful smile

50. Lovely picnic

51. Sandwich crazy

52. National Men's Day

53. Deep fried days

54. Redraws

55. Nostalgic November

56. Good old times along with old days

57. Delicious evening

58. DIYs

59. Pie of your choice

60. Chilling in cabins

61. Sleepy hibernation

62. Lazy days

63. Aesthetics of choice

64. Craving for tea

65. Dancing dinner table

66. Lame rainy days

67. Fairy tale story time

68. Doodle skits

69. Making scarecrows

70. Playing with board games

71. Biking in forest

72. Hiking through nature

73. Magical Library

74. Ready for vacation

75. Turkey chasing

76. Egg Fest

77. Feeling dozy

78. AUs

79. Parade or Festival

80. Overcooked burnt

81. Busy Chef's Kitchen

82. Love for autumn

83. Retro style of dinner

84. thickgiving

85. Going nuts

86. Writing a wish list

87. Don't beef with me

88. Disney themed of Wonder

89. Are we there yet

90. Sneaking in the kitchen

91. Nostalgic wave of feeling

92. Non-stop Marathon

93. Teamwork friendship

94. What can possibly go wrong

95. Chores of pain

96. Creative mind of Art

97. Starbucks yummy

98. Where's the turkey

99. Hungry appetite

100. Dinner is served

101. Early bird gets the worm

102. Some Creepypastas

103. Wishing for December

104. Wishing on a shooting star

105. Some errands to do

106. Hellish consumers

107. Butter up too exotic

108. Cranberry Harvest

109. Cheesy macaroni

110. Vegan options / alternatives

112. Satire / joke arts

113. Mustard or ketchup

114. Mashy potatoes

115. Too much stuffing

116. pumpkin pie crazy

117. Setting up the table

118. Stayed in bed

119. Too big of sweet

200. Eating up a feast

201. Crazy competition

202. Kawaii seasoning

203. Leafy collection

204. 1950s style

205. Thankful in grace

206. Lumberjack season

207. Jocks around

208. Spicy Danger

209. Exploring the abandon

210. Determination of heart

211. Bacon alive

212. Wildest imaginations

213. Horrific pilgrims

214. Hunting for shinies

215. Best of variety

216. Apple cider bar

217. Enjoying the sunrise

218. Creamy peaches

219. Dead plate

Disclaimer: unlike normal requests you have to request on November theme / Thanksgiving theme also if you prefer something Halloweenish feel free to go to the Halloween request event.

Note: I'll be adding and updating the list if I come up with something creative be on the lookout for that also be sure to read the rules before sending me requests please be understandable and thank you and have a great Thanksgiving one more thing have fun~🍗🍖🍳🍽

If you like feel free to send me a suggestion to add on the list of the prompts list I am now opening to suggestions to what to add on the list that is considered match to the theme leave them down in the comments below if you got a very good idea or possibly for a future adding to a different one.

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vulpixen · 1 year

Text

Week One: Mystery

Summary: This story takes place in the Mystery Dungeon AU I’ve been working on for a while and hold dear to my heart. For this first, it takes place in the Mystery Dungeon AU where everyone is a pokemon. Stan and Ford are Alolan and Kantoian Meowth's respectively and their parents Filbrick and Caryn are a Perserker and Kantoian Persian, and Shermie is a Perserker. How I interpret it as what kind of pokemon they are is determined by genetics and not by game mechanics. Depending on a pokemon's ancestry can determine what pokemon will be born. Other characters such as my ocs Andrea Pereira and Lucina Evergreen are here, too, and they are an Eevee and Shiny Kanotian Vulpixen respectively. Hope this explains things and enjoy this for Week One of @stanuary and onwards! Chapter 1 is here on AO3, too.

Team Mystery

Stan, a young Alolan Meowth, awoke early in the morning and would nudge his twin to wake from his sleep, eager to get up and go for this particular day. The day they start a new adventure.

“Sixer, wake up!” the young Alolan Meowth urged his Kantoian counterpart.

“Mrow!” Ford yowled. “What, Stanley?” He rubbed his tired eyes with a six-toed paw.

“Today’s the day we’re gonna start our explorers team! Team Mystery!” Despite knowing him and his brother aren’t old enough to become a professional, recognized adventure team by the Explorer’s Guild standard’s, yet, that wasn’t going to stop Stan and his brother from getting a start at it. Ford’s lips formed a bright smile as he put on his glasses and leaped down from his bed. Stan hoped one day to meet the founder and leader himself to work with. Stan pulls out the carrying case from under the bed that contains the items they think they’ll need for this adventure they have planned. Once they find something to do, that is.

The two have their breakfast and leave a note for their parents to find, taking some berries and other food for later before heading out the door and outside into the streets. The beach town was bustling with pokemon going about their own business, most of them being water types given the town is by the ocean on the east coast.

Stan and Ford were making their way to the local bulletin board just outside of the Peliper Postal Office when a thought occurred with Stan.

“Oh wait! We forgot to invite Andy and Lucy!” Stan just remembered their Eevee and Shiny Vulpix friends who make their team complete. Stan was over the moon when the girls accepted his and Ford’s offer to become part of their unofficial team. And since it was summer, Lucy would be around for their summer adventures. He’d hate to leave the two out of their adventures in exploring, rescuing and seeking out treasure.

Thankfully, Ford seemed to find the two ahead of them when he pointed at them.

“Seems like they got a head start.” Stan and Ford go up to the two who were looking at the bulletin board, scanning for the tasks they’re able to do and succeed in. Each job ranked from letters E to S, S being the highest and way beyond what the four are capable of.

“Hey, girls!” Stan greeted.

“Stan! Ford!” Andrea greeted the two meowths, her tail wagging in eagerness. “Me and Lucy managed to get here first! Think we can solve some mysteries around here.” Lucy pointing at the jobs listed. This piques the twin’s interests as they scan the board and see which ones seem more interesting and can get them more rewards. Stan slapped at the C level job that’s within their area.

“We can do this one!” Stan pulled the entry down that reads: ‘ Can someone find my basket? I lost it somewhere in Question Mark Cove. Will reward 400 coins. ’ Ford gave an affirming nod.

“Question Mark Cove? I think we can manage a trip there. I believe it's only ten levels down.”

“Perfect! We find this basket and get my – I mean our money. Split it evenly.” Andrea giggled, figuring Stan may take more of the share. Lucina rolled her eyes, but she was looking forward to exploring a cove.

“Ascot, look what we have here!” directed a Minun named Dicky to his Plusle brother as they approached the board. “New jobs! And a couple of wannabe adventurers who don’t even have official badges!” The Sibling brothers were still sore about how Stan and Ford and Andrea got the better of them last summer.

“Hey! We’ll get ours one day.” pouted Andrea.

“Yeah, go get your own jobs and shove off, sparkplugs.” Stan stuck his tongue out and pulled down his lower eyelid to mock them. The Sibling Brothers look at the group and let out a haughty laugh.

“Oh, we will. We’re going for something more… rewarding.” Dicky would leap up the bulletin board and retrieve a wanted poster of a criminal pokemon that appears to be a rough-looking Carrascosta. Ascot finished.

“Such as apprehending a criminal and collecting the bounty in Question Mark Cove.” The two leave laughing at the four dumbstruck pokemon behind to go off to fulfill the job. Stan was fuming as he couldn’t let this slide. He wasn’t going to let those jerks discourage him, his brother and friends.

“How ‘bout we go get that basket and get that bounty.” Ford, Lucina and Andrea gasped.

“Wait, what? We can’t do that. It’s something adults do, not us kids.” Lucina reasoned, scared about confronting a bigger and stronger pokemon they’re not prepared to face.

“Those two have no idea what they’re up against.” Ford watched the twins go towards the cove. They too were children as well. Stan mustered up the confidence to give the three and himself the morale they needed.

“Come on! With the four of us working together and using our moves, there’s nothing we can’t do. We’ll face whatever is down there and come back here to complete the job!” The three young pokemon looked between each other and smiled at Stan.

“We can give it a shot.” Ford approved, having a backup plan should things go south in having packed an escape orb.

Later down the Question Mark Cove…

The four pokemon managed to handle themselves against the opposing pokemon in the cove during their escapade down into the levels. They even managed to find the missing basket intact. However, they hadn’t seen the Sibling brothers since entering inside. Which Ford would point out.

“Do you think they’re in trouble? Wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“If the criminal got them, good riddance.” dismissed Stan. Something Lucina didn’t like.

“It would be wrong to just leave them alone down here to die.” Andrea sighed, seeing her friend speak true.

“Yeah, even if they are stupid jerks, they’re still kids like us.”

“Fine, let’s go find them.”

The four proceed down into the tenth and final floor of the cove and find what looks to be a makeshift hideout, no doubt belonging to the criminal, but no sign of the Sibling brothers. Stan and Ford call out for them.

“Hey! Dick and Asshole! Call out if you hear us!” Andrea giggled in response to Stan swearing.

“Did you catch the crook?”

They hear nothing for a second under loud, thundering footprints could be heard. It was the wanted Carracosta that goes by the name Crush the Undertow. His shell and maw riddled with visible scars from previous confrontations. He let out an uproar of laughter.

“Ye friends yer lookin’ fer are here no longer!” Crush lumbered over. “They turned their tails and ran off in fear of I, Crush the Undertow!” Stan and Ford growled, figuring the brothers would do something like this.

“Well we’re going to beat you ourselves!” challenged Stan and unsheathed his claws.

“Yeah, we’re not scared of you!” Andrea braced herself and her fur bristled. Ford and Lucina preparing for a fight.

Crush slapped his hard chest and bellowed.

“Then have at the, children! Give me a challenge! ”

It would be a challenging battle for the four young pokemon. Crush wasn’t holding back against the four, using his rock and water moves to get the upper hand. Stan, Ford, Lucina and Andrea have to act quick to try to dodge the attacks, and give it their all in turn. Ford didn’t have enough left to use against Crush, having used much of what they had and found throughout the cove. Ford could see they’re no match for this beast of a pokemon. Lucina having gotten knocked out upon getting hit against the wall, and Andrea getting her out to safety.

“We have to retreat!”

Crush targeted Ford and taunted.

“Ye not gonna run away like cowards are ye?!” Crush opened his mouth and released a high pressure amount of water at Ford. Stan would bound and leap to use his claws to deliver a strong swipe of his claws, aiming for the mouth and was successful, leading Crush to be off his aim. But it left Stan open to be attacked by Crush using his flipper to slam Stan against the wall and pin him there.

“Ya nicked me good, boy, but this ends now.”

Ford brought out the blast seed to use as a last resort to eat it, and unleashed a strong enough force to hit Crush and knock him down, releasing the injured Stan. Ford rushed over to help Stan up and give him an oran berry.

“Come on, Stan, get up.” Stan chewed and swallowed the rejuvenating berry that helped a little. “We need to go help the girls and tell the Magezone Chief about this.” Stan nodded at his brother, a lot ringing in his mind and thinking this could have gone better.

They hear steps coming towards them and it was none other than the Sibling Brothers, never having left. The plusle and minun clapping their paws.

“Well done!”

“Yes, very good! You defeated the crook in our place.” Stan and Ford glared at the two.

“You… you cowards! You got us to fight your battle so you can claim credit! You two could have taken him down with being electric types.” Dickie and Ascot would scoff, not having shame in it.

“And you did a fine job.”

“Saved us the trouble without using up our own resources to do it. Let us offer a deal.” Ascot presents. “You let us have this and we’ll put in a good word to have you and your team become a recognized rescue team with badges and everything from the Explorer’s Guild.”

“That is not what being an explorer is about, Sibling Brothers.” A strong voice spoke from behind them. The four boys turned to see a stoic Lucario and two of his teammates, a Pidgeot and Blissey, tending to Andrea and Lucina’s injuries. They heard everything admitted. “I’m immensely disappointed in you two for using others to fight your battles and perform your tasks, taking credit for their efforts while you’ve done none.” The plusle and minun cowered, fearing the worst was going to happen. And it does. “As the leader and founder of the Explorer’s Guild, I hereby strip you of your rank and badges, banished from the Explorer’s Guild henceforth.” He reached and opened his paw to take the badges away. Reluctantly, Dicky and Ascot relinquished their badges and carrying case and took a walk of shame out of the cove.

Stan and Ford were astonished by what just happened. The founder and leader himself, Ryland, along with his team to rescue them. Stan was relieved to see things were going to be okay, but feels guilty he got the girls and his brother into this mess.

Ryland turned to Stan and Ford. “We’ll take care of this, you and your friends need to be treated.” Stan and Ford nodded up and took their leave to get treated by the Blissey named Belle.

“Your friends sent out an SOS and we were the first to receive it,” Belle smiled as she bandaged up Lucina. “Good thing we did. You four were very brave.” Hearing that made Stan feel a bit better, but he felt guilt over endangering his brother and friends.

“I’m sorry, guys, we should have retreated sooner,” Stan lowered his head. Ford, Andrea and Lucina showed weak smiles.

“Don’t be down, Stan, things got messy and we turned out alive,” reassured Andrea. “And we found the basket to take back to the client looking for it.” The pidgeot named Soarin would offer.

“If I may, I can help deliver it swiftly and without delay. I assure you that I will give you four full credit for your efforts. What should I call your group?”

“Team Mystery,” the four young pokemon agreed.

The next day…

Stan and Ford are called from downstairs by their mom as they got a letter.

“Hey, boys! You have mail!” Their mother Caryn the Kantoian Persian smiled. “And from the Explorer’s Guild no less.”

“Wait, what?” Stan and Ford questioned. The two read the letter, and from what they determined, they are offered to join the Explorer’s Guild. In addition, some of the reward money that came from not only returning the basket to the client looking for it, but part of the bounty from apprehending the criminal carracosta. Stan couldn’t believe it. His dream was coming true.

“We can be official explorers! Badges and everything!” Stan beamed ear to ear. Ford liked the sound of that. “Team Mystery is in business!”

“I like the sound of that, Stan, but let’s stick with what we can handle before we aim for higher jobs.”

“It’s a deal, Sixer.” It was the beginning of a new adventure.

#stanuary 2023 #stan pines #ford pines #vulpixen writes #vulpixens ocs #mystery dungeon au #andrea pereira #lucina evergreen #week one: mystery #stanley pines #stanford pines

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thegoblinwitchqueen · 2 years

Text

One for Sorrow, Two for Mirth

Arthur Morgan X OC/Charles Smith X OC

Rating: Explicit/18+

TW: substance abuse, violence, sexual content, death, psychological content

Summary: In an attempt to write the wrongs of her past, Maggie Keane has sought redemption through caring for Valentines horses. All was going well and until a band of wanted outlaws decide to swindle her employer. Without even realizing it, her life was about to change.

Chapter:1 AO3

Word Count: 5,450

—————-

Soft as the velvet ears of a hare, but hardly as delicate.

Maggie allowed the tips of her fingers to move absentmindedly along the nose of the unfamiliar shire whose enormous body made even the tallest of her thoroughbreds look as though they were foals fresh from their mothers womb by comparison. His coat was thick and lackluster, but Maggie could see that the spring time shedding had already begun to free itself in various large patches along his muscular sides, exposing the sleek and shiny coat that lay hidden underneath like diamonds in coal. It would take two, maybe three, good brushing with her metal shedding brush and a bath before the black beast would glisten like an obsidian stone. Despite the work that this incredible monster would require, Maggie knew the price he’d earn would make it worth her while. Back and forth, the horse pawed anxiously within his new stable, and bellowed with such ferocity that the other captive horses joined him in either fear, or solidarity…she could not tell.

“Where did you get this…Goliath?” Maggie’s voice called out from over her shoulder to Amos Levi, and although she could not pull her gaze free from the magnificent creature who continued to demonstrate his power and discomfort with heavy steps and pacing along his tiny enclosure, Maggie knew by her employer's footsteps that he was within earshot as he swept the floor of the stable he owned free of straw, dirt, and debris. The act of sweeping the stable in of itself was futile. The uneven wooden floor boards would only accumulate more muck and mud from Valentine's Horses throughout the day as they rotated throughout the stables for cleaning and care. Still, Maggie knew better than to criticize or point out the painfully obvious reasons why Amos Levi shouldn’t bother with it. After all, it was one of the only ways the man maintained his sanity throughout his many years caring for and selling horses. Whatever was left of it, at least.

“An older feller and his son came in not too long ago looking to sell ‘em.” Amos set his straw bare broom against the door to a cream colored palomino’s stable door, and brushed the grime from his hands onto his stained apron before giving the mare a sturdy pat. “I reckon’ he caused them a lotta trouble considering’ how badly they wanted ‘em gone.”

Maggie rested her palm against the bridge of the shire's nose, and after a few moments of whispering sweet nothings to the stallion, he calmed down enough for her to get a better glimpse of him. However, It was only after a closer inspection that Maggie realized that the condition of the horse was not pristine as he had initially appeared. The stallion looked rather underweight for his size, and the ends of his mane frayed and split from months of malnutrition. His hooves were overgrown, but appeared healthy otherwise. She was thankful for that, but sighed with frustration.

She shrugged her shoulders as Amos tugged at his thick and overgrown beard which hid his thin mouth underneath a wiry mustache to accompany it. Had the man not kept a lit cigarette between his lips at all times, Maggie would not have known he even had a mouth at all due to how little he spoke throughout the day. Still, she did not mind the silence, and often found it comforting. He looked her up and down with the utmost anticipation

“What ya’ think Mags?” Amos chewed the butt of his smoldering tobacco, and looked at the young woman’s face in an attempt to decipher the peculiar expression she wore across her pale features. “Did I make a darn fool of ma’self fer buyin’ ‘em?”

“Well,” Maggie began, wiping her own hands free of dust on her back side. “I don’t see you as a fool, Amos. He’s got a lot of potential behind that coat and those hooves but….”

Her voice trailed off while her fingers pulled the lips of the beast's mouth open, and she saw that his teeth were in decent condition. However, he was definitely old and past his prime. The galvayne’s groove along his inscisers ran from gum to the tip and Maggie assumed that he was practically as old as herself. Twenty-five…maybe older. Not to mention the wear and tear from many long years of bridles which pulled against them. This horse had worked hard over his long lifetime.

Amos watched the woman intently and, after a few agonizing minutes of her tugging, pushing, and inspecting the creature from head to toe, allowed a groan to escape from underneath his tobacco stained beard; he already knew by the way Maggie’s brows furrowed tightly together, that he had indeed been a fool.

“He’s mighty old, Amos. I reckon’ he’s close to thirty. He should be looking at retirement, not pulling wagons. It’ll be hard to find anyone willing to purchase him for more than $80.00, maybe $85 if we throw in a free set of shoes. But, even then…I’m not a miracle worker.” Maggie tugged a few tufts of the shire's shedding coat away from his neck and ran her fingers along the fresh and glossy coat that appeared underneath.

Her mind thought of the ways in which she could spruce him up, convince some poor fool to purchase this monster, but her options were limited with this new found information. In response to her poking and prodding, the shire nipped at her fingers, however, she was too fast for him and pulled away before he could grab hold of her. With aggravation, the horse bellowed angrily and kicked at the stable door. “And with his temper, it may take me a while to break him. If I even can. He might be too old to change his ways now.”

“I shoulda’ known better than to make a big purchase without you.” Amos grumbled and picked up his broom to continue where he had left off moments prior in an attempt to clear his mind once more. Maggie sighed, and looked at the man with an expression of pity and understanding. Suddenly, Amos threw his broom and hat to the ground in frustration and remorse. “Bastard cost me $250.00!”

“$250.00?!” Maggie exclaimed in a tone more aggressive and louder than she had intended. The young woman’s gray eyes practically bulged from her skull in utter disbelief. “Amos! We have never paid anyone more than $130.00 for even the best looking shire! How in the hell did you spend that much on him!”

“The older feller was a mighty smooth talker, Maggie. Said he came from the best stock! Said the horses’ sire was from Prussia.” Amos recounted with a wistful expression when he spoke the foreign country’s name. His eyes were practically hidden under a set of wild and bushy brows, but the blues of his irises pierced through like the spring sky; clear despite his age.

“Prussia? Seriously? And you believed him?” Maggie scoffed in frustration, but not at Amos. He was kind hearted despite his gruff and silent exterior, and more often than not, would help out even the most desperate of men looking to score a few dollars from the sale of an old nag or lame mule. However, 250 dollars for this particular horse was nothing more than a scam. “I reckon you got swindled, old man. What did they look like? Do you know where they’re staying?”

The young woman’s hands quickly fought the leather straps of her farrier apron as she untied the tight knots with bumbling fingers calloused from a year of manual labor. Once free of its constraints against her waist, she set the apron down on a stack of hay, and hurried around the stable to gather up her meager belongings. Her clothes, threadbare and stained, consisted of nothing but a simple button up and a faded pair of mens trousers. Clothes given to her from Amos’ youngest son, Matthew, who was the closest to her size.

“He said they’re gonna be around town. I think I saw the younger feller go to Smithfield’s after. But, that was yesterday when you’s was helpin’ out at Emerald Ranch. I don’t quite remember what they looked like.” Amos watched the young woman grab her gunslingers hat, and place it atop her short cropped hair. “Nah hold on there, Missy! I know what you’re thinkin’. Mags, It’s not worth the hassle. Why don’t we call it a lesson learned, an’ move on. Plus, what I do remember was the younger fella looked mighty rough and dangerous. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with a lady such as yourself getting caught up in that sort of thing. Again.”

Amos threw his hands up in defense and followed the young woman to try and stop her. He even tried to block her from leaving the stable entryway with his own body as an obstacle, but he knew from watching her grow over the years in that small town, that when Maggie Keane had her mind set on something—-there was no stopping her. She grimaced and pushed through her employer's arms into the muddy streets of Valentine.

“I’m sorry, Amos, but I can’t let them get one over on us. It’s not right. It’s the principle of the matter.” Maggie adjusted her hat, and made her way to Smithfield’s to find this young feller and get Amos’ money back.

“Since when did you care ‘bout principles?!” Amos called out after her. Maggie only laughed in response and quickened her pace towards the Saloon.

She would get that money back, one way or another, that's for damn sure.

———————————————-

“Well, I’ll be! Miss Maggie Keane!” Roy exclaimed loudly over the sounds of his piano.

The time of day did not matter much to the patrons who chose to spend their meager day’s worth of hard earned wages at Smithfield’s on booze and women. The sun could be rising in the east or setting in the west, or even switch it’s position all together, but the swinging doors to the most popular Saloon in Valentine would not stop opening and closing as if a summer breeze straight from the mountains blew through them every moment of the day. However, instead of receiving the pleasant aroma of fresh mountain air mixed with the light touches of blooming wildflowers, a strong wave of the putrid smell of whiskey, musk from dirty men, and stale vomit greeted her nostrils with enough pungency to burn them.

Maggie did not miss it.

Nor did she miss the incoherent chatter from drunken fools, the stickiness of the bar that seemed to permeate the wooden countertop no matter how much she scrubbed, and especially the fragments of glass that left her fingers bleeding because she would have to gather each jagged piece painstakingly by hand after yet another drunken brawl between two wasted worthless pieces of—-

Stop.

Maggie reminded herself that it was not worth the frustration that held heavy on the forefront of her mind which came with the process of remembering her time spent at Smithfield’s. It had been a year since she walked out those double doors—- vowing never to return, and life was different.

She was different.

And yet…here she was once again. Under different circumstances, of course.

Still, the one thing Maggie missed was the sound of Roy’s piano which often provided her some meager semblance of humanity during the many long and sleepless nights spent in whisky's sweet embrace. Those melodic tones, just like Amos’ methodical sweeping, allowed her to maintain her fragile sanity. Whatever was left of it, at least.

Reluctantly, the young woman entered the bar with a grimace she did not attempt to hide behind false smiles. She allowed it to paint itself fully across her features as she tried her best to avoid most of the intense stares from drunk patrons she, unfortunately, recognized while she surveyed the perimeter for any sign of an unfamiliar face amongst the sea of locals she had become quite familiar with. Maggie’s hands gripped the smooth leather of her satchel so tight that they left indents, but the thoughts of her racing mind calmed when Roy turned from his piano, smiled a toothy smile at her, and changed the tune he was playing to her favorite song, ‘A Picture of Her Face’ by Scott Joplin. She smiled back weakly, and nodded a subtle thank you. He acknowledged her with his own slight nod, and Maggie proceeded. It was nice to see that she still had at least one friend left at Smithfield’s.

“Evening, Cliff.” Maggie spoke with a layer of exasperation coated in each word. She approached the bar, and leaned against the sticky counter the same way she had done many times before. “How’s business?”

Cliff Smithfield grinned through his thick, black mustache while his hands quickly poured the young woman a shot of liquor from the stash he kept hidden for himself underneath the counter. Not only was Cliff the bartender at the establishment, but he owned the Saloon named after himself since he opened his double doors back in 1898. The question she asked in regards to his work was more rhetorical than literal. Maggie knew how business was. She heard it every night from the repetitive and rage fueled rantings from her dear uncle, Walter Keane…the owner of the failing Keane’s saloon just down the muddy street.

“I’m pulling through,” Cliff began, his hands pushing the tiny shot towards the young woman to take. Maggie eyed the man with suspicion, but ultimately figured the gesture was his way of settling old scores. Or, it was an attempt to butter her up for the long anticipated conversation she had worked so hard to avoid. “What brings you back into my—what did you call it?”

“—Infected boil on the ass of Valentine.” Maggie took the shot, and threw it back with ease. She missed the burn, but did not miss the never ending hangovers she kept at bay between the many shots of bourbon and brandy she would take throughout the day.

“Yes, that was it.” Cliff laughed though his voice still seethed with a slight hint of bitter resentment. After all, they did not end on a particularly good note. “But, No matter. Bygones be bygones. How can I help you, Maggie.”

Maggie removed her hat, and ran her hand through her short hair. Cliff's nose wrinkled, and he shook his head with a gust of breath from his nostrils in disbelief. Maggie opened her mouth to recount her quest to retrieve Amos’ money, but was cut short when a large hand reached out and touched her.

“I can’t believe you butchered your beautiful hair with that…mens cut.” Jon, local drunk and over all insufferable degenerate, pawed at Maggie’s chocolate brown head of hair with little regard for her own opinions on the matter. He wore his traditional get up of old furs, leathers, and a raccoon hat with an almost empty bottle of whiskey in hand. He swayed like a ship at sea with each moment he spent touching, and staring, at the young woman’s displeased face. Maggie swatted his hand away and turned her face to ignore him in an attempt to stick to her original plan. Jon huffed and leaned his full weight against the bar all the while ignoring the subtle looks Cliff shot him to mind his manners. “You always was the most prettiest with your thick locks. Shame. Now you look like one of them…carpet munchers. Or a boy. You tryin’na be a boy now, Maggie?”

“It’s good to see you too, Jon, but I’m busy.” With one hand, Maggie pushed the older man gently and watched with glee as he tumbled to the floor like a stack of dominos. He groaned as his drink spilled over his furs, but gave in to his drunkenness to ultimately pass out where he laid prone on his back like a starfish. Now that her harasser was out of the way, she turned her attention back to Cliff who was motioning for Tommy to gather up what was left of Jon and his dignity. Tommy, thick and broad, gave Maggie a hefty pat on the back before completing his task, and setting the man in a chair near his usual table.

“It’s never a dull moment with you here, Mags.” Cliff said, pouring her one more shot. Maggie accepted it once more, waving to Tommy who returned to his place on the second floor.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make a fuss.” She responded through her teeth after the burn of the liquor subsided. “But, I’m here looking for an outsider.”

“An outsider?” Cliff lifted a dark brow in surprise. “What for? He owe you money or somethin’?”

“No. Well, kind of.” Maggie straightened herself, and noted the familiar pull from the counter stickiness along the fabric of her blouse. Yes sir, same old stickiness. “The bastard conned poor Amos Levi out of $250.00 for a run down shire past his prime. I wanted to have a…conversation with him, and I figured he’d probably be here, Y’know, spending his score on some cheap booze or Anastasia’s pussy..”

Cliff allowed a hearty laugh to escape from deep within his lungs, and Maggie smiled. These were the kind of moments that she had wished to be the majority when she worked at Smithfield’s, but it wasn’t.

“You haven’t changed, that’s for sure.” Cliff attended to a patron quickly by opening a bottle of whiskey for the man, but never broke eye contact with Maggie’s eyes that were as gray as a thunder cloud. “Unfortunately, we’ve had quite a few strange men coming in and out of here the past week. I don’t know if they’re all together or what not, but it might be hard to pin down your stranger without knowing exactly what he looks like.”

“Amos said he looked mighty dangerous.” Maggie grinned, and watched as Cliff's expression changed from jovial to concern across his aging features. He released a sigh and planted both hands on his counter to support his weight. He shook his head, and looked up at her.

“Mags, now, I know you. Known you since you were a tiny tot roaming around town in her Sunday dress, rolling in the mud with Amos’ bigger boys, and causing mischief. But, you gotta remember—you ain’t a bigger boy. You shouldn’t be runnin’ around looking for trouble.” Cliff explained. “One of these days, you might get yourself caught up in a whole heap of bad news. And, since you’re not one of mine anymore, I can’t be paying your bail when that happens like I used to.”

“I never asked for you to pay my bail.” Maggie responded shortly.

“It’s not about the bail, Maggie. Haven’t you done enough to tarnish your family’s hard work and reputation? Hell, your grandpappy built practically each house here in Valentine by himself! Your cousin, Hugh, has done well for himself at the Hotel. Why don’t you work for him as one of his—-bath girls. Or, why don’t you come back and work for me? We miss you, Magpie. I miss you.”

Magpie.

“So, it’s more becoming of me to sell my pussy than to work as a farrier?” Maggie rolled her eyes as far back as she could, and Cliff rubbed his growing frustration from his own tired eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no. I understand exactly what you meant. This backwards hovel of a town would rather have me lose my hair to syphilis than make horse shoes—makes all the sense.”

“Maggie, you’re a woman. There ain’t no shame in doing what women are supposed to do.” Cliff extended his hand across the counter and held Maggie’s trembling fingers. She wasn’t trembling out of fear or a slight chill, but out of seething rage. “You don’t even have to work. We could revisit that conversation we had. Y'know, the one we had before you left? Please, Magpie. Think about it.”

Magpie. There it was again.

“Don’t call me that.” Maggie pulled her fingers free from Cliff's fingers, her own causing friction as her calluses scraped along his smooth flesh. His hands were soft, and never experienced a time where he had to work hard for food or shelter. Never had to sell his body and soul just to survive.“I told you never to call me that.”

“I never understood why you never liked it. It’s your name, darlin’.” Cliff reached for her again, but stopped when the doors of the Saloon opened with such force that Maggie was sure a stray horse had entered the parlor room on accident. It wouldn’t have been the first time, unfortunately.

However, what sauntered across the muddy floor boards was not a horse, but two men. The first was a Latino gentleman who donned a relatively fashionable outfit of blues and grays with facial hair he meticulously maintained. He wore a black bowler hat, and his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. He was a handsome gentleman, and his smile was the most captivating aspect of him that she could outwardly see.

The second, who followed loosely behind his friend with steps that were unusually silent for a man his height, was a Native man with long and unkempt hair that flowed freely over his shoulders. His expression was stoic across his strong and dark features and his eyes carefully observed the Saloons' busy atmosphere. His skin was darker than most of the other Indeginous individuals she had encountered from time to time when they drifted through Valentine and Maggie assumed that he must have been of mixed race. He was handsome, and Maggie liked the way he carried himself. Calm and collected.

Both gentlemen had no qualms with entering the Saloon occupied with white, backwards yokels who eyed the two with suspicious intent, and Maggie found the change of pace refreshing. If only these interesting men had shown up back when she worked here. She was sure they’d have interesting pillow talk about their travels and she wouldn’t mind ruffling the feathers of a few racists who might say otherwise. Regardless, they were Strangers to Valentine and both looked just as dangerous as they did unfamiliar. After all, Maggie was looking for a strange man and there was a good chance hers might be one of them.

“Maggie, don’t…” Cliff growled. He watched Maggie smile mischievously, steal a shot of whiskey that belonged to a patron passed out at the bar, and begin to walk up to the men for an impromptu interrogation. Both gentlemen were talking amongst themselves with welcoming expressions, but before she could reach them…

“Well, hello there. Aren’t you two boys a mighty sight to behold!”

Anastasia..

“Great…” Maggie grumbled under her breath, stopping short of her walk to her targets who stood against the wood panel wall.

Anastasia was the best of Cliff’s working girls, and was by far the prettiest woman in Valentine since the town was established years ago. With hair like fire and skin as white as a delicate lily, the young woman had no problem pulling even the toughest of mountain men to her room on the second floor for a night of liquor fueled heavy petting. Her bed was always full, and in turn, her pockets as well.

When she descended from the second floor, she wore her white chemise loosely around her bust and shoulders in a way that accentuated her god given assets which she pushed to her chin with a tight corset. The beauty approached the two strangers with a dark haired young woman trailing her not far behind, giggling like two unsullied girls in church.

Maggie had met the other girl only a few days prior to her departure, but her name slipped her mind. It must have been something like—Daisy or Marigold. Who knew? All the girls changed their names when they became a soiled dove. In fact, Anastasia was called Anne before she started at Smithfield’s around the same time Maggie did. But, Maggie was always Maggie and she never bothered with changing her name. After all, the town already knew her, and her family’s, name.

Her presence was not overlooked though, and Maggie’s dark eyes locked with Anastasia’s, and for a moment, it felt like the rift between was not as wide as it had been when she left. There was a time when it was Maggie trailing Anastasia to get the leftovers she didn't want…and there was a time when she foolishly thought that they were friends. Maybe more. But, regardless of how their—-arrangement ended, Anastasia was the best Valentine had to offer and she definitely earned her pay. Maggie still admired her for her abilities in the bedroom. However, most men who were lucky enough to be graced by her presence typically ended up at the fists of Tommy when they realized, a little too late, that Anastasia charged a pretty penny for her pristine pussy.

Maggie took an empty seat next to a sleeping patron, and watched with a grin as Anastasia worked her magic on the strangers. A little touch here, a batted eyelash there—-and finally, the melodic laugh that broke through the incoherent chatter like church bells at whatever joke the Lantino gentleman had said which sealed their fate. She half debated about warning them of the hefty fine they were about to receive thanks to man's inability to think with more than one head at a time—-but, Damn, it only took Anne less than five minutes before she was walking with the dandy, arm in arm, to the bar. The new girl—well, not as new anymore—copied Anastasia, and took the Native man’s arm as well.

“So much for getting my money back.” Maggie mumbled, her arms crossed tightly against her well endowed chest. She too had assets similar to Anastasia, and knew exactly how to use them. However, she did not miss working at Smithfield’s. And so, she sat for a few minutes and watched as the two men fell into the comforting embrace that whiskey provided with open arms. With each shot they downed, the lighter she imagined their pockets would feel. Anastasia had a system, and used whiskey to her utmost advantage.

Once or twice, Maggie made eye contact with the Native man as he looked over the Saloon, time and time, again. She was unsure of what he was looking for exactly. A friend? An enemy? Regardless, she made sure to greet his welcomed gaze with a slight smile. Each time, he seemed taken aback by her forwardness and turned to face his friend and the ladies who entertained him with a slight rush of color to his cheeks. It wasn’t the whiskey that made him flush, and it was adorable. Still, smiling at random men was an unfortunate habit she was unable to break. For years, even before Smithfield’s, Maggie was trained to be as approachable as humanly possible. After the third time of meeting the man’s intense eyes, Maggie saw Anastasia flash her an expression that said,

‘Stop fucking this up and leave. Now.’

Maggie let a chuckle escape her lips before she lifted an almost full bottle of whiskey to her own lips. It wasn’t hers, a little flat from being open for so long, but she didn’t care. It brought her satisfaction to know that even with hair cropped as short as a man’s, clothes stained and threadbare, and with the smell of horse that permeated her at all times—-she could still manage to pull a man’s attention with nothing more than a sweet smile.

Part of her hoped the dark skinned man would approach her, prove to herself that she was still worth his time and conversation. As well, it had been some time since she had been with a man, and he was handsome. She wouldn’t mind a quick social call with a stranger she would never see again, but she knew better. She let her eyes meet his one last time before she couldn’t help but feel a tug at her heart when her former friend tossed a glance her way yet again, but this time pleading for her to leave once more.

Suddenly, she remembered the many nights they spent together, lying awake into the early hours all the while laughing about the poor love making of whatever John they had serviced until they heard the familiar call of a rooster to start their day all over again.The memories were too difficult, and after another few minutes, Maggie decided it would be in her best interest to let the ghosts of her past stay buried underneath deep layers of regret and shame to be forgotten once more. A year was not long enough to heal the wounds that still festered and oozed within her infected soul. She decided it was time to cut her losses, make due with what she could get out of selling the beat up Shire, and go back to forgetting this place of pleasure ever existed.

Maggie sighed, lifted herself from her station, walked to the familiar swinging doors of the Saloon, and readied herself to leave. When she was about to place her hat on her head, her body collided heavily against a man whose intention was to enter the Saloon she desperately wanted to leave. She fell back onto the dirty floor, and cursed under her breath. Her hand stung and a drop of blood formed from where a stray nail had caught the flesh of her palm during her attempt to cushion her fall.

“ ‘Scuse me, Miss..”

Maggie’s assailant’s voice was gruff, and had a thick accent similar to those from further out west, but she could not see him due to how tightly she had closed her eyes from the sudden pain. She sucked air through her teeth, and fought to control her initial reaction of rage from the unpleasant stinging sensation. After a moment, she took a deep breath and sighed. When she opened her eyes, the man who stood before her was handsome as well, rough around the edges, and donned the attire to fit his cowboy aesthetic. All the way down to the beat up gamblers hat he wore atop his shaggy mop of sandy blonde hair. His eyes were just as blue, if not bluer, than Amos’. His hand was extended, waiting for her to accept his assistance. After a moment, she obliged.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t think I’d be running into anyone.” He apologized, lifting the woman to her feet with ease.

“Don’t worry about it.” Maggie mumbled as she brushed the dirt and debris from her rear. “I should have been more careful.”

The man allowed a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth before he turned to survey the bar. Maggie thought that the crows feet that appeared at the corners of his eyes were charming. What was with all these interesting strangers waltzing into Smithfield’s? It was not like Valentine was as big or as popular as Saint Dennis. No, it was very unusual for a stranger, let alone three, to visit their tiny town. However Maggie was so caught up in inspecting the stranger the same way she did her horses, with intensity, that she didn’t realize that the man was waiting for her to say something. She felt the color rush to her cheeks, and her mouth went dry.

“Aay! Arthur!” The Latino man exclaimed after taking a shot with Maggie’s former friends. Once again, the Native man watched her and the color stayed on her cheeks. “Come meet our new friends! After all, this is all on your tab since you’re $250.00 richer!”

250.00? That was the exact amount Amos had spent on that horse.

The stranger, Arthur, tipped his hat to her before turning on his heel to join his companions at the bar. Anastasia’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of him. He was most definitely her type, and Maggie knew the woman was just bubbling to the brim with joy over the fact that she now had three men to lighten their wallets on her. Maggie brushed the dust from her hat before she nursed the blood that began to weep from her wound.

“I think we should extend that offer to the lady you just knocked over, Arthur.”

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x original female character #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #fanfic #rdr2 arthur morgan #Charles smith rdr2 #rdr2 charles #charles smith x OC #charles smith x original character

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