#the lawman the thief and the outlaw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snowbellewells · 2 years

Text

Fic Update: “The Lawman, the Thief, and the Outlaw” {Chapter Five}

Wow, I can really only apologize for taking so long between updates. It certainly isn’t intentional, and I hope to do better in the future, but all the same I appreciate the enthusiasm and continued loyalty from those reading this. If it’s any consolation, I already have the next chapter started as well, so hopefully it will be on its way to you in much shorter order. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy chapter five!

**Many thanks once again to @searchingwardrobes for the wonderful cover art she gifted me for this story!

Summary: Sheriff Killian Jones has done his best to leave behind a troubled past and bring law and order to the town of Blanchard Ridge. However, when he upholds his duty in the face of the most feared and dangerous outlaw gang in the area, allies are few and he dreads trapping them in the same situation he finds himself. The small Western town is about to become a powder keg, and one lawman, his deputies, and a resourceful woman too stubborn for her own good are all that stand in the way of bloodshed and lawlessness... {A Rio Bravo movie AU}

Previous Chapters: Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

And this chapter also available on AO3

Chapter Five

After Pan Malcolm’s visit to the jail, what little ease and certainty in his actions which Killian had managed to gather was more or less shattered. He could gamble with his own life in pursuit of upholding the law; he’d known that was part of the job signing on, and a part of him had felt he had little to lose in those early days when he washed up in Blanchard Ridge, alone, disillusioned, self-loathing and lost. But now? A town full of people looked to him for safety and guidance, and he had deputies under him who merely wanted honest work and fair wages, not working to right past wrongs or atone for mistakes with their own lives and limbs. Truth be told, he wasn’t at all sure that Smee didn’t largely stay out of some misplaced sense of loyalty and an old outcast’s need for companionship. If Malcolm and his gang attacked before the Marshalls arrived, if they already had emissaries stationed secretly in town biding their time - and Killian would bet money that Pan had done just that; the outlaw was crafty and it was only smart strategizing, it’s what he would do himself were their roles reversed - when the onslaught came, innocent people would be hurt, or even killed. He wasn’t sure how he’d settle with others paying for his determination to see through the letter of the law. Stubbornness, more like, he could practically hear an echo of Liam’s voice chiding ruefully in his ear. ‘You let him goad you with my name, little brother,’ the inner voice seemed to chide. Shaking his head as if to rid it of the beloved timbre reminding him of truth he would rather not admit, Killian hissed a curse and began to pace agitatedly in the narrow alley running behind the jail, out of sight. He had let the villain’s mention of his sibling, and how he had been lost, get to him. He’d shown his opponent just how tender that wound still was, even after all the time gone by.

Blowing out a long breath and redetermining to maintain a cool head, Killian squared his shoulders and strode purposefully back into the jail. Taking stock of things, all seemed quiet on the surface, but he shot a rapid, quelling glance toward Nightshade’s cell, just in case the deviant decided to comment or mock with the bravado his boss had no doubt aimed to instill. He’d have no more of it, and the two-bit hood might as well know that right off. Nightshade, however, seemed - at present anyway - to know what was good for him. He was already slouched in the back corner of his bunk, looking up to meet the Sheriff’s eyes only briefly before he dropped his own gaze once more in seeming disinterest. The prisoner spoke not a word, and Jones counted himself lucky. Will was still out on morning sentry duty, and Smee had finished clearing up from breakfast and was seated at the somewhat rickety table in the center of the room, perusing the latest copy of the Ridge’s weekly gazette.

“Keep an eye on things for a bit, aye?” Killian murmured to his compatriot lowly as he headed to the door. “Probably about time I made a bit of a lap around the square. Make certain our visitor didn’t leave anyone behind to cause trouble.”

“Yep,” Smee agreed simply, knowing his boss didn’t want to say too much in front of their jailed guest, who was almost certainly listening and taking in every word no matter how unconcerned he might appear. “You got it, Boss.”

Once out on the wooden porch at the jail’s entrance, Killian felt a crest of morning breeze on his face. The day was shaping up to be a hot one, but the humidity wasn’t in full force yet, and the air moving over his skin was a refreshing change after the tense air and volatile emotions in the enclosed space he’d just vacated. It was hard to believe it was still mid-morning after all that had already occurred. Proceeding down the steps, Killian turned right and proceeded at the edge of the dirt street in the direction of the blacksmith at the far end of the main thoroughfare; then, he’d work his way back along the other side of the street all the way up to where Will stood guard at the town’s main gate, then back to the boardinghouse across from his starting point. Once he’d made a circuit of the shops, businesses and bars to see that nothing was amiss or that no one suspicious was lingering around. He’d stop in for some of Margaret Nolan’s exemplary vittles for lunch, before taking some to Will and trading places with his deputy for the afternoon.

That decided, Killian moved forward with a bit more ease and assurance, keeping his attention sharp and eyes peeled all the while. Other than the scare when Robin’s cattle drive had rolled into town and the rancher had taken the bullet to his shoulder, the town had been quiet. More quiet than usual even, and it had never been a social hub by any stretch. Now though, the stillness in Blanchard Ridge’s deserted streets was unsettling; as if everyone around were holding their breath, looking over their shoulders so trouble couldn’t get a jump on them.

Killian hated to see such trepidation upsetting the daily life of good, hard-working people who’d given a purpose to his aimless, drifting life once more. As the law in the area, he couldn’t help but feel he had failed them with the threat hanging so low over their heads. He’d upheld the law, stuck to his guns, and refused to let Malcolm bully him - but were his citizenry paying the price if they were afraid to come into town to trade their wares, buy supplies, and gab with their neighbors for a spell on the boardwalk?

These heavy thoughts weighing on his mind, Killian had passed the livery and blacksmith, with only a small startle to rattle his nerves from a loose shutter swinging wide in the breeze and a donkey braying loudly in alarm. He peeked into the mercantile and the dry good store to see those few who were about quietly browsing and selecting their purchases. He was nearly at the head of the street, tipping his hat by way of acknowledgement to Scarlet; a gesture the younger man returned with ease - signaling all was well for the moment. Then, Killian swung wide to head back in the direction he’d come on the other side of the street.

Passing by the swinging door of the saloon, Jones frowned to notice that even the revelry from that sordid establishment was much muted, though he could hear the tinkling of the old piano from inside, occasionally joined by the jovial bellow of some inebriated warbler who thought he could carry a tune. He heard a strident voice calling out drinks from the bar and the rise and fall of a few voices in raucous laughter, but it was nothing like the hullabaloo that generally resounded from the place night and day, and even spilled out onto the street quite frequently.

Still, despite the easy view and general peace that would have made troublemakers stand out plainly, Killian could find nothing amiss - only felt it in his bones. By the time he had passed Dr. Hopper’s small clinic and Miss French’s tiny lending library within the entry of the schoolhouse during the summer months, he was nearing Nolan’s boardinghouse once again with little to show for his diligent patrolling efforts. Not that he wanted a shootout or any such violence to erupt in the middle of town where far too many innocents could be hurt - but at the same time, this stalemate had to break. The tension was crawling under his skin, and waiting for the strike he knew must be coming was slowing driving him crazy.

In an attempt to put from his mind what couldn’t be changed, Killian entered the boardinghouse doors and made his way to Margaret’s bustling restaurant. Her noon meal was a well-known treat, and the place was still well filled, even at well past noon. Thankfully, Jones found his preferred table in the back corner, where he had a good view of the entire dining area and clear into the parlor as well. Even if it meant he rarely found himself able to fully relax, he dreaded letting his guard down - needing to be ready for any eventuality.

A bit of the weight on his shoulders lightened when he saw Margaret Nolan herself, deep black hair piled high on her head as she worked right alongside her cooks and waitresses. A few strands escaped to lay in dark ringlets against her pale alabaster skin, and she moved with a cultured grace which made her appear to fairly float from one table to another as she checked on each of her guests. Busy as she was however, a fresh baked pie balanced in each hand, she beamed when she caught sight of him with a bright smile and warm friendliness he was not sure what he had done to deserve. Before he even seemed to blink, she was bustling over with a piece of fresh strawberry pie on a plate for him. Placing it in front of him, she fussed. “Afternoon, Killian. We’re hopping in here as always, but someone will take your order shortly. You look famished though, and I know strawberry is your favorite, so you go ahead and enjoy this while you wait.”

Nodding in pleased satisfaction when he dutifully picked up his fork, took a bite, and closed his eyes to savor the tart-sweet flavor on his tongue, she looked pleased as punch with his reaction before patting him on the shoulder at his “much obliged” and then hurrying on to her next customer.

He waited a few minutes, taking in the clientele and nodding to those he knew scattered about the large, bustling room. He had a bit of sweet tooth that he tried not to overindulge, so he was quite enjoyed his homemade dessert first until he could be served his lunch. And then he received a gift in gilded lighting, for who but Emma Swan should come to take his order?

“Well,” she drawled, her look rather sardonic as she angled her chin toward his pie, already half-devoured before him, “it would seem you hardly need me to take your order, Sheriff.” Despite her playfully scolding tone, Killian noticed that she held a small pad of paper and pencil in her hand, ready to take down what he needed.

“Mrs. Nolan takes good care of me, I’ll admit to that, Lass,” he dipped his head in agreement, “but I was hoping to have more than pie for my noon meal. It��ll be late before I’m off guard duty at the gates this evening.”

Miss Swan seemed unable to remain completely unmoved, her eyelashes fluttered slightly as she smiled at him with genuine encouragement. “It sounds like you have some long, boring hours before you. You had better get yourself something with substance.”

Killian hummed a mild sort of agreement in his throat before ordering his favorite - fried chicken with green beans and some of Mrs. Nolan’s fragrantly warm and fresh baked bread on the side. It was a good thing he rode, patrolled, and generally got as much exercise as he did in his job - the juicy, tender, fried poultry that Margaret Nolan could make to practically meet in a man’s mouth, would have been showing on him by now in most unflattering ways otherwise.

“Wise choice,” Emma nodded, giving him a wink as if it were some understanding between them rather than the most popular dish in the place - and the day’s posted special.

He couldn’t fight the lopsided grin he returned at her sass, before thanking her and watching her begin to move off toward the kitchens. Happily, he was just pondering how she seemed to be warming to him a bit, at least enough to show a more playful side, when he saw movement off to the edge of his vision. Instantly on alert, his eyes narrowed at the rather large and unfamiliar looking man seated at a table right in Emma’s path back to the kitchen. The stranger clearly had his eye on Miss Swan, and though it was a free country and Swan was a grown woman at liberty to interact with whomsoever she chose, Killian didn’t like the hungry attention being leveled at her just then as the ruffian leaned back in his chair, effectively blocking Emma’s walkway with a sly grin. That look spoke less of choice and more of a predator sizing up his prey.

Killian found himself already rising to his feet, even as the man reached out a hand to catch Emma’s elbow when she attempted to squeeze by him. His jaw clenched at the sound of the obviously inebriated and lecherous taunt which met his ears as the cowboy spoke laconically. “Hey, hey, there, Missy, what’s your hurry? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before, and I sure wouldn’t mind a second look.”

His buddies around the table guffawed and hooted loudly at his sorry excuse for humor, egging him on in his ribald introduction.

Hesitating only a moment to see what Emma’s response might be, making sure not to step in where he wasn’t needed, Killian clenched his jaw tightly to hold back from calling out a warning across the crowded cafe. His hand hovered warily over the gun holstered at his hip, despite knowing that Margaret Nolan would have his head if he was the catalyst for shots flying in her establishment. He was also the sheriff and in charge of protecting the citizenry, particularly innocent young women from the unwanted attentions of troublesome rogues.

For a second, he wanted to laugh aloud at the huff of indignation Emma Swan released at the man’s brash forwardness. He should have known she would be more than capable of making her mind clear on matters without his assistance. A wiser suitor would have seen from the way she looked down her nose at him, clearly annoyed at his halting her progress while working, and more than a bit repulsed by his belittling address and unwanted grasp on her arm, that she was uninterested in his attentions and let the matter drop. Killian could have laughed aloud, when she replied tartly. “My name isn’t Missy. And while you are correct, we haven’t met, I’m working right now, you’re in my way, and I think I’ll survive remaining unacquainted to one so free with his hands.” She shrugged him off firmly with a push to get free, and in doing so, unbalanced the cad’s chair, which clattered over, depositing him on the floor in an undignified heap.

His companions laughed good naturedly, echoing that she’d sure told him and wishing better luck next time, while Emma turned and started back on her way with a deep cleansing breath and squared shoulders. Killian was beginning to relax and gladly thinking that she hadn’t needed his intervention at all - that she’d saved herself quite handily - when the ruffian righted himself and leapt to his feet with an angered roar, knife in his hand pulled from somewhere, and starting after Emma with a shout.

Killian was on his feet in an instant, long-dormant but still present reflexes of a less savory life, where one lived or died by swift reactions and skill with a gun. Before most others in the room registered that the drama was still ongoing, or could have made a move to aid the young woman being threatened, he was across the crowded dining room and wrenching the other man’s arm back as he came up on his unguarded flank. Further uproar rose all around them, as the stranger’s table companions called out in affront, several locals at nearby tables called out in alarm or stood to move closer in trying to help or see what was happening. Miss Swan meanwhile, having heard the first shout, then a scuffle and uproar, had turned to see what was happening, only to glimpse her unwanted admirer whirling to slash at Sheriff Jones, who had hold of him by one arm, with the knife he held in the other.

Adeptly dodging the strike, which came at him wild in the heat of anger rather than any sort of skilled precision, Killian met her wide eyes briefly and gave a curt shake of his head to warn her back, almost as if he could sense without a word passing between them that her fiery temper was returning to her and she was considering diving into the fray herself. While by some miracle those around them seemed to have gathered their best move was to stay back and allow the lawman and his challenger to fight things out, it was still a fraught situation with far too many changing variables for Killian’s liking. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to bring the other man under control - to secure the arm he gripped behind the man’s back and knock the blade from the offender’s grasp. However, though slighter than Jones, his opponent was tall and wiry and flailing wildly - seeming almost frenzied with both anger and now wounded pride as well. When, one of his fellows at the table called out, “Hey Vic, you need a hand?” Killian wanted to dismiss it as a buddy giving a hard time, maybe even an attempt at defusing the situation, but he couldn’t bank on it.

A hurried glance over his shoulder revealed the other members of the unfamiliar group still seated rigidly, tense, and apparently unsure how to proceed, he could only feel a momentary relief that he was not in immediate danger of being swarmed by the whole gang. Unfortunately, even that second’s shift in focus allowed his slippery opponent to get a clear shot and dive in for brutal attack. Swift as a breath, the knife slipped between Killian’s arms, grappling to regain firmer hold, and sliced through shirt and skin both on his left side, under his ribs.

It was enough to steal his breath, the slash and ensuing fiery pain knocking him back on his heels, a frightening pounding agony seeming to radiate in his gut. He’d been hurt, both on the job and in his checkered past, multiples times - and bore the scars to prove it, but that didn’t make the vicious and sudden cut any less staggering. He could tell without looking that the man, through sheer luck or more skill than he’d reckoned, had made a long and deep enough gash to prove serious if he had to keep fighting much longer. He could already feel blood beginning to leak down his side, wetting his shirt with a sticky, unmistakable warmth.

“Jones!” he heard Emma Swan cry out in distress, as he stumbled, but managed to keep his feet. He’d be suffering much worse if his attacker struck again. Chaos seemed to ensue from all sides - people screaming, yelling, shouting out orders, some running away and others pressing forward. His senses nearly reeled, leaving him vaguely dizzy, but Killian managed with some last herculean and desperate burst of strength, to swing a punch that struck his assailant square on the chin and stunned the other man in return. Shoulders fairly slumping in relief, Killian managed to at last pry the knife from loosened fingers and kick it away once it hit the floor. The stranger was still struggling against him, but they both were moving with less force and grace than they had been. He was finally able to wrangle both the man’s hands behind his back and reach for his handcuffs when he heard a frightened shout ring on the air. “Sheriff Jones! Behind you!”

He ducked and veered to the side on instinct, taking his prisoner to the floor with him, and therefore feeling only a glancing blow to his shoulder as he fell. More shifting and shuffling, murmurs and exclamations, and a gruff, “Enough! We’d better clear out of here. Get him, he’s already made too much of a fuss for the boss!”

Though he could feel his prisoner being pried from his grip, Killian was struggling at the moment to keep his eyes open, not quite able to get his feet under himself and rise from the floor, with the way the room seemed to be careening around him. The frighteningly moist press of his own blood through his shirt felt as though it were drenching much of his side, a frightening amount in so short a time if he were blatantly honest.

His hand fumbled weakly to the site of his injury as if trying to hold the blood in and press the two ragged edges of his wound together. When his clumsy fingers met others there, gently reaching out to hold a compress of some sort to his side, his gaze fluttered up in bleary surprise to meet that of Miss Emma Swan’s. Concerned green orbs peered down at him anxiously, and he would swear she brushed his hair up off his clammy brow with her fingertips in anxious concern. He tried to stay with her as she called out for help, then turned back to him, her lips moving as she spoke, but sounds unintelligible and fading away. He had no further reserves to fight with. Letting out an exhale of frustration and pain, Killian surrendered and closed his eyes.

Tagging: @captainswanmoviemarathon @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @jennjenn615 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @stahlop @xhookswenchx @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @let-it-raines @drowned-dreamer @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @jonesfandomfanatic @xsajx @gingerchangeling @kday426 @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @lfh1226-linda @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @killian-whump @cocohook38 @the-darkdragonfly

#csmm #cs rio bravo au #cs au mc ff #cs western #the lawman the thief and the outlaw #chapter update #chapter five

20 notes · View notes

pazzesco · 2 months

Text

Bass Reeves (1838 –1910) was a runaway slave, gunfighter, farmer, scout, tracker, and deputy U.S. Marshal. He spoke several languages including Cherokee and Creek. Bass was one of the first African-American deputy U.S. Marshals west of the Mississippi River mostly working in the rough Indian Territory. The region was saturated with horse thieves, cattle rustlers, gunslingers, bandits, swindlers, and murderers. Bass made more than 3,000 arrests in his lifetime, only killing fourteen men in the line of duty.

Bass was born into slavery in Crawford County, Arkansas. His family were slaves belonging to Arkansas state legislator William Steele Reeves. During the American Civil War, his owners fought for the Confederacy. At some point, Bass escaped and fled to Indian country where he learned American Indian languages, customs, and tracking skills. He eventually became a farmer. By 1875, Bass was hired as a deputy U.S. Marshal along with 200 other individuals. He was 37 years old. Bass was well acquainted with the Indian territory and served on their land for over 32 years as a peace officer covering over 75,000 square miles, presently known as Oklahoma.

Reeves (left) with a group of Marshals in 1907

Bass encountered some of the most ruthless outlaws of his day. His weapons of choice were the Winchester Models 1873 and 1892. They were guns that conveniently fit dual-purpose handgun/rifle cartridges. He also briefly used the Colt 45 peacemaker. He tracked and killed notorious outlaw Jim Webb. Webb murdered over eleven people. Another notorious desperado Bass encountered was murderer and horse thief Wiley Bear. Bass rounded him up along with his gang which included John Simmons and Sam Lasly. Bass was also in a gunfight with the Creek desperado Frank Buck whom he shot and killed.

Bass was immortalized in the popular media including TV shows, films, novels, poems, and books. He was also inducted into the Texas Trail of Fame. A bronze statue of Reeves was erected in Pendergraft Park in Fort Smith, Arkansas and the Bass Reeves Memorial Bridge in Oklahoma, was named after the legendary lawman.

Bass Reeves is held by many to be the original Lone Ranger. He worked for 32 years as a federal peace officer in the Indian Territory, and became one of Judge Parker's most valued deputies. Reeves brought in some of the most dangerous criminals of the time, but was never wounded, despite having his hat and belt shot off on separate occasions.

Statue dedicated to Bass Reeves in Fort Smith, Arkansas

Bass Reeves - "Double Fist" by Gabe Leonard

#bass reeves #Marshal #legendary lawmen #former slaves #black history #cliff clavin #gabe leonard #Arkansas #lone ranger #Double Fist #reeves

182 notes · View notes

dcwildwestfest · 8 months

Text

Mod's "Most Wanted" - Destiel Western Recs

Howdy! Here are a few fic recs to get you in that Wild West spirit! 🤠

The Shawnee Trail | emmbrancsxx0 (@valleydean)

In 1887, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak lead a peaceful life in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam are stagecoach messengers for Wells, Fargo and Castiel is the town doctor. When Castiel's patient, Kelly Kline, knocks on their door one night about to give birth, she asks for the Winchesters and Castiel's help in protecting her son against one of the west's most notorious outlaws. To fulfill that promise, the men set out on a journey full of shootouts, trouble with the law, gambling, and an important discovery: Dean and Castiel really need to define the nature of their relationship.

Hunter's Caress | Ltleflrt (@ltleflrt)

Castiel Jameson won't rest until the outlaw who murdered his brother faces justice, and Dean Winchester is the only man alive who can help him track the villain down. Some say Winchester is a cold-blooded killer himself; others say he'd been wronged his whole life. All Castiel knows is that the desire glinting in Dean's green eyes is even more dangerous than he is. Castiel fights to keep his mind on business, but during the long nights on the trail with the dangerously handsome hunter he finds himself dreaming of yielding to Dean's illicit kisses and losing himself in lawless passion. Dean Winchester is about to hang when Castiel saves his neck with his crazy plan. But dying might be better than spending day and night playing nursemaid to such an infuriating city slicker. He appreciates the stubborn detective's desire for justice, but he'd appreciate Cas a lot more if he'd stop being a lawman long enough to just be a man. He certainly has all the right equipment. Dean aches to run his fingers through Castiel's dark hair, yearns to know how Castiel's golden skin will feel against him. And before the coming of the next dawn, Dean vows to teach him the pleasures and sweet rewards of a Hunter's Caress.

Wheat Fields and Jars of Light | krisham, violue (@violue)

It's the mid-1880s. Grieving the loss of his twin brother, Castiel Novak is on a journey across Kansas to search for those responsible for his death. By horse, by carriage, by foot, he won't stop until he's hunted them down and gotten his revenge. What he finds, though, is that nothing in the world is quite what he thought it was.

Vagabonds | chevrolangels (@chevrolangels)

Dean is a sheriff in a tiny town in Colorado, restless and unsatisfied with his life. It's not like what he's read about in the dime novels since he was little, capturing dangerous outlaws and being the last word of the law. More like tossing the town drunk in a cell to sober up when they get a little too rowdy. But Dean's chance comes when a thief rolls through their town. He pursues the thief, which puts him right into the path of Emmanuel, a notorious outlaw. When he is captured by the outlaw and his gang to be held for ransom, Dean starts off on a journey he could have never envisioned, and learns that perhaps there's more to Emmanuel than meets the eye.

West (series) | Xela

Dean/Castiel set against the backdrop of the Wild West. In which Dean and Sam are Outlaw Hunters, and Castiel is a religious man.

4:08 to Tombstone | zuzeca (@lyresnake)

When minor outlaw Dean Winchester's beloved brother ended up on the wrong side of a robber baron with yellow eyes and a sadistic streak, Dean never expected to wind up in the Arizona Territory’s most notorious prison: The Pit. Nor did he expect, after years on the rack, to be sprung by former Federal Marshal and man of the cloth, Reverend Castiel Milton. Now, on the run from corrupt lawman Warden Alastair, the two men must learn to trust each other, or hang. When Castiel, lesser seraph of the Lord, descended into Hell to help rescue the Righteous Man, he never expected to be unwillingly cast in Dean Winchester’s repressed bisexual cowboy fantasy.

Sign-ups for the DeanCas Wild West Fest open September 6th!

Check out the official rules, guidelines, and schedule here!

#dwwf #deancas wild west fest #fic recs #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #western au

106 notes · View notes

profoundbondfanfic · 8 months

Note

Heeeeey just wandering do you by any chance have like a western or cowboy au fic rec list??? If not that's okey but I mean I would appreciate

Hello and of course, here are a few we like!

Apple Pie Order by paceprompting [Explicit, 18k words]

Castiel Novak spends his life the same way, every day, as sheriff of a small town in the old west. Until, of course, a certain green-eyed criminal named Dean Winchester starts showing up in his life...over and over.

Church of the Country Wild by Amazonia_8 [Explicit, 52k words]

Sheriff Dean Winchester has been sent to Boston to collect the new preacher for his town of Lawrence. What he finds is a man nothing like what he expected and suddenly the long journey back to Kansas seems a lot more dangerous than he'd previously thought.

Hunter's Caress by Ltleflrt [Explicit, 161k words]

ride, cowboy, ride by UniversalSatan [Explicit, 12k words]

There's a stranger in town, and Castiel has the sense there's something dangerous about him — yet he's drawn to the man like a magnet, unable to resist his enticement.

The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0 [Explicit, 166k words]

Vagabonds by chevrolangels [Explicit, 89k words]

Whisper My Name by PetraAmia [Explicit, 29k words]

Castiel was an alpha with a few secrets up his sleeve, and had distanced himself from his family in New York City. Castiel was better off in the West than he was in the City, and they weren’t wrong. When Castiel first roamed he made a name for himself in the trick pony shows of the time and finally settled down in a small town called Angel, Wyoming. Here, he gave into some of his Alpha instincts by taking care of the townsfolk as sheriff, but that wasn’t to say that he was not a dutiful son. Twice his family back home had sent him an Omega to keep the families honor and both times, the Omega in question had not survived the sometimes harsh climate his new home provided. When a letter came from his eldest brother Michael to alert him to yet a third Omega coming to meet him from New York, he expected nothing but more of the same. He was totally unprepared for the Omega who came with his favorite brother Gabriel, and the new pup he was to take into his life. However, the events of the town have kept them apart, his duties to the town came before his new mate, and their relationship suffers. Can they recover, and be what they were always meant to be, or will they continue to dance around each other until they wither?

Wicked Game by expectingtofly [Explcit, 104k words]

The year is 1889 and for the past year and a half, Dean has traveled alone from town to town, drinking to ignore his guilt and gambling to make a living. Today, he’s especially down on his luck. He’s broke, was just thrown out of a saloon for cheating at poker, and has now been woken by a blue-eyed man trying to rob him. When he learns that the thief, Castiel, is just as broke as he is, they strike a tenuous deal to help each other rob a stagecoach, share the spoils, and split up. Turns out splitting up is the most difficult task. While Castiel is cold and cruel, Dean refuses to back down from a fight. The two are at odds more often than not, but their relationship only grows more complicated the longer they travel together. They may have more in common than they thought.

There's also this fic we've reviewed a while ago with cowboy!Dean, though he lives on a farm and it's set in the 90s instead of the old wild west:

spirit of the west by teendean [Mature, 141k words]

Dean grew up on a horse farm and can’t imagine any other life. There are drawbacks to working for his father, but they’re worth it if it means remaining with his beloved horses. Besides, between his broken arm and his lack of prospects, he hasn’t got much else. Something of an outsider, Dean always feels like there’s something he’s missing. But this tense summer brings back a figure from his past: years ago, a teenaged Cas worked for a season at the Winchester ranch. His return could change everything. If you ever wanted a 90s horse girl book, but starring a young Dean Winchester, this is your fic.

you can also check our western tag for more.

#asks #group rec #western

101 notes · View notes

izzyspussy · 6 months

Text

white collar crime au where stede bonnet's father is a retired white collar fbi agent who fell in love with and married the wealthy heiress whose stolen painting he once recovered, but they were ultimately incompatible due to their differing up-bringings and lifestyles and eventually got divorced and he got half of her assets and stede, who he resents for having the same born privilege as his ex-wife and that he himself is still obsessed with gatsby style

stede grows up learning all about criminals and in particular of course white collar and organized criminals, as per his father's area of expertise. he gets landmark and cold cases instead of bedtime stories, his father reliving his own glory days and the romanticized glory days of his heroes, who he fantasizes he could have become like if he hadn't let love and fatherhood ruin the more important things in life.

of course, stede is meant to also be glorifying the so-called good guys. but he resents his father right back, and resents his mother too for leaving him with the man, so he doesn't particularly feel for nor identify with the victims either. and so the only characters left to admire are the thieves.

as stede grows up, he obviously chooses not to follow in his father's footsteps, and yet still keeps abreast (as well as he can as a civilian, but his father's name does get him quite a bit of favor, especially when wielded in combination with his mother's wealth) with the most glamorous white collar cases. and he becomes obsessed with the devious blackbeard and his mysterious nameless partner in crime.

the legends say the duo can steal from anyone, forge anything, escape from anywhere. there are rumors that blackbeard himself is not quite fully human, harkening back to the most glamorous periods of crime of all - rockabilly bank robbers, wild west outlaws, golden age pirates. he can walk through walls, travel by shadow, shapeshift, put a curse on a troublesome lawman with merely a look. of course, all but the most superstitious fence or beat cop knows none of that is true, including stede, but isn't it a romantic tale to tell anyway?

eventually, stede finds himself falling into his father's steps. he resents his wife, his children, his lack of career. and he can't bear to become any more like him, and he convinces himself it's for the best for mary and the kids too - after all his dad was hellish to live with, worse to be raised by, so it's a blessing if stede abandons them before he can treat them badly, right? so, equipped with enormous wealth and more connections to the underbelly of society than a law abiding citizen should reasonably have, stede manages to run away as a nearly fifty year old man in the modern world.

and, well, he's already doing that so he might as well get into a little crime too. so he starts trying to live out his romanticized fantasies of robbery. he tries to be - drum roll please - a gentleman thief.

in the process, he crosses meets blackbeard, whose real name is ed teach, and his partner izzy hands. (in this version, izzy's derogatory nickname is "sticky hands" instead of "dizzy izzy" because unfortunately the white collar crime world is actually very nearly as stuffy and classist as the world they steal from, and while the two of them have handily obscured edward's background such that he seems to have sprung fully grown from the head of a stolen diamond or whatever, they've not done that for izzy and as such having grown up poor he is branded as a petty thief, no better than a shoplifter, despite the fact he can and does rob circles around the rest, even now at two or even three times their ages.)

ed tells stede, "you know, the whole gentleman thief thing, that's just in tv shows, mate." and stede tells ed, "until now!" and well... being a regular art thief was fun when it was a challenge, when there was still anyone bothering to try to catch them (the newest classes out of quantico don't even believe they're real, just a moniker all the unsolvable cases get thrown under). back when ed was taking all the low expectations society had of him and turning them into something high out of reach of anyone else. it's boring now, he's done it all, and it never satisfied him. never made him feel any better.

but maybe the gentleman thing could freshen it all up again, make it interesting. add a new challenge. wear suits and be charming and don't hurt anyone. maybe even pull some type of robin hood shit...

that could be fun.

#jack facts #ofmd #blackhannet #stede bonnet #ed teach #izzy hands #hc

42 notes · View notes

geekcavepodcast · 2 months

Text

youtube

The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin Trailer

Dick Turpin is the most famous and dangerous highway robber of the 18th century. Dick is "made the reluctant leader of a band of outlaws — and tasked with outwitting corrupt lawman and self-appointed thief-taker Jonathan Wilde." (Apple TV)

The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin stars Noel Fielding (Dick Turpin), Hugh Bonneville (Jonathan Wilde), Ellie White, Marc Wootton, Duayne Boachie, Tamsin Greig, Asim Chaudhry, Dolly Wells, Joe Wilkinson, Mark Heap, Geoff McGivern, Michael Fielding, Samuel Leakey, Kiri Flaherty, Greg Davies, Diane Morgan, Connor Swindells, Jessica Hynes, Guz Khan, and Paul Kaye.

The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin hits Apple TV+ on March 1, 2024.

2 notes · View notes

tomorrowedblog · 2 months

Text

Friday Releases for March 1

Friday is the busiest day of the week for new releases, so we've decided to collect them all in one place. Friday Releases for March 1 include Dune: Part Two, Spaceman, Problemista, and more.

Dune: Part Two

Dune: Part Two, the new movie from Denis Villeneuve, is out today.

“Dune: Part Two” will explore the mythic journey of Paul Atreides as he unites with Chani and the Fremen while on a warpath of revenge against the conspirators who destroyed his family. Facing a choice between the love of his life and the fate of the known universe, he endeavors to prevent a terrible future only he can foresee.

Spaceman

Spaceman, the new movie from Johan Renck, is out today.

An astronaut realizes that the marriage he left behind might not be waiting for him when he returns to Earth. Desperate to fix things with his wife, he is helped by a mysterious ancient creature he finds hiding in the bowels of his ship.

Problemista

Problemista, the new movie from Julio Torres, is out today.

Alejandro is an aspiring toy designer from El Salvador, struggling to bring his unusual ideas to life in New York City. As time on his work visa runs out, a job assisting an erratic art-world outcast becomes his only hope to stay in the country and realize his dream.

Amelia’s Children

Amelia’s Children, the new movie from Gabriel Abrantes, is out today.

When Edward’s search for his biological family leads him and his girlfriend Ryley to a magnificent villa high in the mountains of Northern Portugal, he is full of excitement at meeting his long-lost mother and twin brother. Finally, he will discover who he is and where he comes from. But nothing is as it seems, and Edward will soon learn that he is linked to them by a monstrous secret.

The Competely Made-Up Adventures Of Dick Turpin

The Competely Made-Up Adventures Of Dick Turpin, the new TV series from Claire Downes, Ian Jarvis, and Stuart Lane, is out today.

In “The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin,” Dick Turpin (Noel Fielding) sets out on a journey of wildly absurd escapades when he’s made the reluctant leader of a band of outlaws — and tasked with outwitting corrupt lawman and self-appointed thief-taker Jonathan Wilde (Hugh Bonneville). In this irreverent retelling set in the 18th century, Turpin is the most famous but least likely of highway robbers, whose success is defined mostly by his charm, showmanship and great hair. Together with his gang of lovable rogues, Turpin rides the highs and lows of his new endeavors, including a brush with celebrity, all whilst trying to escape the clutches of the thief-taker.

BMF S3

The third season of BMF, the TV series from Randy Huggins, is out today.

“BMF” continues the storyline of the inspiring true legends of brothers Demetrius “Big Meech” Flenory (Demetrius Flenory, Jr.) and Terry “Southwest T” Flenory (Da’Vinchi), who fostered one of the most influential crime families in the country known as, Black Mafia Family. We parachute into the early 90s in Season 3 with Meech moving to Atlanta, where he hopes to build upon the BMF empire in the south that he and Terry fostered in Detroit and rise to the top of the Atlanta drug scene. At the same time, Terry remains in the “D” to handle business. Charles Flenory (Russell Hornsby) and Lucille Flenory’s (Michole Briana White) marriage remains on the rocks, and Detective Bryant (Steve Harris) and Detective Jin (Kelly Hu) return as partners often on opposite sides of the law who find common ground in their determination to take down BMF.

Cricket Through The Ages

Cricket Through The Ages, the new game from Free Lives and Devolver Digital, is out today.

Swing bats and throw balls through the intertwined histories of humankind and cricket in this one button, physics-driven game.

BLUE LIPS

BLUE LIPS, the new album from ScHoolboy Q, is out today.

#Games #Movies #TV #Music #News

0 notes

usalivemovienews · 3 months

Link

Noel Fielding to star in The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin this March on AppleTV+ Apple TV+ h... https://dev-usalivenews.pantheonsite.io/noel-fielding-to-star-in-the-completely-made-up-adventures-of-dick-turpin-this-march-on-appletv/?feed_id=36469&_unique_id=65afeeaba9daa #movie film movies

0 notes

pantherandtheseagod · 9 months

Text

#fanfiction #namor x shuri #shuri x namor #mcu namor #princess shuri #seaprincess

1 note · View note

jasonblaze72 · 2 years

Link

#BillPaxton

0 notes

cathygeha · 2 years

Photo

REVIEW

Red Ruckus by Brett Cogburn

Morgan Clyde #3

Gun battles, horse stealing, lynching, corrupt marshals, and a man with skills called in to clean things up – or die trying. Morgan Clyde is a man who gets the job done while doing what he believes to be right…no matter what.

What I liked;

* Morgan: war veteran, sure-shot, divorced, has been a lawman and worked for the railroad, a legend or if not – one in the making

* Dixie: war veteran, ex-lawman, farmer, friend of Morgan’s, might have a sweet spot for Molly

* Molly: immigrated from Ireland, has a checkered past in regard to work, strong, has a business, might have a sweet spot for Dixie though she used to have one for Morgan

* Cumsey: horse thief, sweet talker, prankster, likable, seems to land in trouble, would like to find out how he turns out

* Noodles: Sicilian barber who works for and with Molly in her establishment – would like to see him with his family if the series continues

* Seeing some of the characters from previous books

* Getting to know more about Morgan and his past

* Wondering if Morgan will reconnect with his son in the future

* Thinking about Morgan and hoping he finds a way to be at peace with himself and move toward a better future

* Hoping Molly and Dixie will have happy lives – together or apart

* The potential for more books in the series and wondering what will happen next

* That the task Morgan was set at the beginning of the story was achieved – no loose ends

What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Knowing that there are still people doing evil now just as they were in this story

* Morgan’s ex-wife and the trouble she creates

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read another book in this series? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and Kensington-Pinnacle for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4-5 Stars

BLURB

Two-time Spur Award winner Brett Cogburn brings back the true grit and glory of the Wild West with his third post-Civil War thriller featuring New York City policeman-turned M&K Railroad lawman Morgan Clyde... Morgan Clyde, former New York City peacekeeper and Union army veteran, is a man of righteous words and a gunfighter of uncanny skill. With deadly aim he has ended the reign of every badman to walk the dirt-packed streets of Indian Terriotry's notorious Ironhead Station. But now he faces those who wear the badge. With every corrupt businessman, immoral thief, and brutal outlaw either behind bars or six feet under, the town of Eufaula has come under the jurisdiction of men who bend the law to their own whims. They've broken their sworn oaths to protect the innocent and annointed themselves as judges, juries, and executioners. Now Morgan must break the law to enforce it, even if it means putting old friends--and lovers--into his line of fire...

#Western #Fiction #Historical Fiction

0 notes

snowbellewells · 2 years

Text

Story Update: “The Lawman, the Thief, and the Outlaw” // Chapter Four

I sincerely did not mean to keep anyone waiting this long for another chapter, but all I can really do is apologize and try to be more prompt from here on out. It is summer, so maybe I can actually manage that! ;p

***So many, many thanks to @kmomof4 for being such a super second set of eyes on this and catching silly inconsistencies, logic lapses and typos for me. I’m indebted for your help and encouragement. ***

Previous chapters can be found here on Tumblr: Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Or on AO3: Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Four

The rooster’s crow the next morning came much too soon for Killian’s liking; especially since, though he would admit it to no one, he’d gotten little sleep or relief from his mind racing with possibilities for how the house of cards stacked precariously around them might come tumbling down at any moment. Once he heard Scarlet’s voice jibing and laughing at Smee about how maybe they ought to fit him with his own apron he cooked so well, Killian roused himself reluctantly. Usually, he had to make sure Will didn’t lie abed, so if he was up and about his usual antics, Killian had almost certainly overslept.

The whole place did smell exceptionally good, Killian conceded, breathing deeply of the mouthwatering aroma of thick-sliced ham sizzling away on the small hob installed in one corner of the jail and the aroma of coffee already brewed and hot in the kettle over the fire. Smee did know what he was about when it came to the vittles, and it had saved them all a hefty amount of change that he would almost certainly have been taking across the street to Mary Nolan’s establishment otherwise.

The deputy in question was at that moment swatting at Will with his spatula; the younger man dodging him easily, when Killian made his way over from his bunk to fetch his mug off the hook on the wall. “Morning, mMates,” he greeted blandly, abruptly canceling the odd game of tag and gaining a reciprocal greeting from each of his deputies in turn as Smee spooned fried potatoes and ham hot off the griddle onto the plate he then held out to his boss automatically.

“Thank you kindly,” Killian spoke sincerely, cutting his eyes to Nightshade, who was pointedly ignoring them. “Did he eat?”

Smee shook his head, clear affront and irritation on his flushed, round features. “Not even a nibble, Cap’n,” he answered, as Killian had expected. It had been the same for the whole of his incarceration.

“Don’t let it trouble you,” he offered with a shrug. “You’ve done your part and then some, offering him good meals - better’n he’d get out there on the run with his gang. He’ll eat when he’s good and hungry, or he won’t, it’s none of our concern.”

The older man was still grumbling to himself as he shuffled in his rocking gait over to ladle out his own grub and back over the worn floor to sit down across the table with it, using his fork to dig in with relish and leaving them to eat in contented quiet for several minutes. Will had already headed out to the head of the street, the other end of town from where they were located at the jail, and the entrance into Blanchard Ridge proper. Killian would spell him for the afternoon shift once lunch was past; no one should spend the whole day out in the full sun as they would be there. By the same turn though, ever since they’d brought Nightshade in from the stage robbery three days prior, they had found it only sensible to keep watch for any unfamiliar faces, suspicious types, or known associates of Malcolm and his cronies entering or leaving the town limits. They were already outnumbered and rather stationary targets. Pan Malcolm knew exactly who they were, where they were holding his trusty lieutenant, and had a fierce desire to make his move. The last thing they could allow themselves was to be ambushed or taken unawares along with the poor odds they already faced.

Passing Smee the list of supplies he’d begun the previous evening, Killian stood, stretched, took his hat from its peg by the door, and placed it on his head, then told Smee to add anything he could think of which they might need if hunkering down completely for some days. He stepped out into the morning air, and his eyes scanned the sparse morning travel - a buggy here and there, coming in to visit the general store or to see the farrier or blacksmith. A few folks here and there spoke briefly to one another before continuing on their way, but it seemed a normal, calm morning in the small outpost. Of course, he had thought as much yesterday as well, before all hell had broken loose, and he studied the street and the darker mouths of alleys as his gaze traveled down the street, but naught seemed amiss.

It was only as he turned once more from his perusal, that he noticed Miss Emma Swan emerging through the swinging door of Nolan’s boarding house across the way, seemingly seeking a bit of sunshine and fresh air to start her day. Almost against his will, Killian allowed the golden sheen of her hair to emblazon his sight, appreciating the way it fluttered in loose waves on the breeze, not yet gathered up for the day in the tightly intricate knots and chignons women seemed to favor or deem proper. Her eyes were closed and a soft, almost unconscious, smile curled her soft, pink mouth upward at the corners, merely savoring the light, cool breeze.

Before he realized he had done so, Killian was down the steps and walking across the hard packed earth toward her, as if drawn by a string. Blinking, he tried to reason that he needed to make his rounds of patrol and see that all was well anyway; the inn and restaurant were as good a place to begin as any. But that was an excuse. He was pulled right along in her direction, the last sort of trouble he needed. Regardless, it would have done him little good to try fighting the compulsion. It was too strong to even want to resist, and he was already halfway across the dusty street. Short of stopping in the middle of the road and aimlessly changing direction like a lost calf, his wisest course was to keep moving forward.

With all the surrounding noise- hoofbeats, a broom on wooden planks further down the walk, the clatter of dishes behind her in the boarding house kitchen- Miss Emma Swan did not seem to hear his approach, with her eyes closed and her face tilted up to drink in the early sunlight as it was. Not until he cleared his throat and wished her a ‘good day, Miss Swan’ did she startle and see him standing before her with a playful smirk quirking the corner of his mouth, eyes sparking in mischief. After how much she had taken him aback at their first meeting, he admittedly enjoyed catching her off guard for even a second.

Nodding curtly, the blonde beauty before him recovered quickly from her surprise. “Sheriff Jones,” she clipped, her voice clearly attempting nonchalance, but her body turning slightly to angle toward him, as if working under the same sort of compulsion which had pulled him across the street moments before.

Killian noted the tight composure she was working to project and couldn’t help wondering guiltily if she was still trying to appear calm and unflustered, or if he had done irreparable damage by bringing up her accused crimes in the wanted poster. Though she seemed well able to hold her own - he had no doubt she could fight as fiercely as her namesake protecting its nest were she provoked - Killian found himself wishing to take back any hurt or offense he might have caused. It might well be wishful thinking, but he wanted desperately to believe the claims of cheating and theft were false. Something behind the dazzling green of her eyes spoke of a pain and loneliness he felt echoes of in the hollow of his own chest - the need to trust, and yet having no one to turn to for it.

Vowing to get to the bottom of the situation, and hopefully clear her name and put things right between them, Killian tipped his hat to her politely, lingering on the sidewalk with her, rather than continuing on his way to speak to the Nolans. “I hope all has been well for you so far, here in Blanchard Ridge,” he offered kindly, attempting to stick at least somewhat to his self-assigned task as well.

Emma Swan tilted her head in consideration before raising her chin and then tossing her hair over her shoulder as she sniffed, “Other than being falsely accused and manhandled by local law enforcement, it’s been lovely.”

Oh, she had that tart tongue sharpened this morning! Killian nearly sputtered in surprised reaction, almost taking the bait as well, but managed - just barely - to keep his cool, sidling right up beside her to whisper in her ear, his warm breath rustling the soft, downy flyaway of her hair, his own blood rushing at the shiver he saw run through her in reaction. “Come now, Darling. I’d hardly label it manhandling, or harassment, when you were the one hoping for it to carry on…”

Sucking in a harsh gulp of air, Miss Swan lurched away from him instinctively, eyes wide and mouth gaping, shock coloring her features a mighty fetching pink indeed. He’d known he was toeing a line with his words, true as they were, and had intended to get a rise out of her. Still, her quickly furtive glances at the mostly deserted morning street around them and the narrowed gaze she aimed at him certainly didn’t disappoint. It took her a moment to recover her voice, mouth opening and closing soundlessly several times before she placed her palm directly in the center of his chest and gave him a shove for emphasis once she managed to sputter, “Speak for yourself, Sheriff! I’ll have you know that was nothing more than a momentary lapse, and certainly not something to be spread about or repeated at my expense.”

“Momentary lapse, eh?” he repeated doubtfully. “Next you’ll be trying to convince me you could return a kiss that passionately and claim it was a one-time thing.”

She tipped her chin higher still in defiance, returning with a huff, “It was a one-time thing. If I had harbored any doubt in the matter, you’re now doing a fine job of erasing it.”

Killian found himself merely staring back at her, wordless in the face of her quick retorts yet again, a habit which was rapidly becoming unsettlingly familiar where she was concerned. He removed the wide-brimmed hat he wore to run his hand across his brow and back through his hair awkwardly, just barely resisting the temptation to scratch nervously behind his ear; a tell he knew a player like Emma Swan would pick up on easily and revealing just how off his game she had put him.

Needing to regain some control of their exchange rather than retreating tail between legs as it were, he turned the tables rather more abruptly than he might have normally. “Doubtful a Sheriff should consort with a card thief anyway,” he tossed back. The minute he did, the hurtful barb grated on his tongue, making him wince at his own ungentlemanly conduct - exploiting a weak spot he knew to cause her distress. Accurate and earned or no, had he not just vowed to get to the bottom of the situation, learn the facts, and try to reach an accord between them? Why did he seem to find himself doing the opposite of his intentions whenever he got near this woman?

Indeed Swan pulled back, coming stiffly to her full height and putting several feet between them on the mostly empty boardwalk. A clouded expression swam into her normally clear green eyes, turning them murky as a still, mossy pond. Her chin wobbled the slightest bit, her head shaking minutely in dissent at his words. Then, however, her entire aspect hardened - mouth thinning as she pressed her lips together firmly, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders drawn up as if braced against being struck. Those expressive eyes narrowed, as if in refusal to give anymore away to him, and in a low hiss, almost under her breath, she struck back with equal force. “Serves me right for thinking you might be different! That we might be able to understand each other. You’re just like all the others, only see what’s right under your nose…” She sniffed suspiciously then, and Killian’s heart smote him that it might be due to held back emotion, though she passed it off well as haughty indignation. “Why don’t you take another long look at your beloved wall of handbills? See if you don’t find one for Walsh Baum. Maybe then you’ll put two and two together!”

Seething, she stood there, practically nose-to-nose with him again, though he couldn’t have said when she moved back in his direction, her shoulders rising and falling noticeably with her harsh breaths. He sensed she wanted to turn on her heel and march off with the last word won. Yet, by the same turn, she refused to back away and give him even the inch it would take her to do so. Oddly bemused, Killian found himself half aching to apologize for his words spoken in poor form, and strangely tempted to grip her tense upper arms and haul her forward to kiss her thoroughly, finishing what they had started upstairs in Nolan’s hall the day before.

Before he could do anything foolish, Killian withheld judgment on whether it were lucky or not, his attention was arrested by the regular, steady cadence of a horse traveling down the main thoroughfare toward them. Realizing almost belatedly, that while he and Miss Swan had been facing off, the activity on the street had all but disappeared. There was a sort of hushed expectancy in the air, as if the townsfolk who had been out beginning their day were watching from hidden safety and waiting with held breath to see what would happen.

Turning toward the approaching noise, he faced three riders, the one in the middle riding slightly ahead, while the riders flanking the first on either side remained just a step or two behind. He recognized the first rider, slight with russet-tinged sandy hair and a deceptively youthful face sitting straight in a feigned appearance of height and mass atop a striking buckskin. Pan, his mind growled in vengeful warning, wanting to pull the evil imp from his perch unceremoniously and see him crushed in the dirt.

Instead, he straightened, looping his hand over his gun belt in false ease, making certain to draw attention to his pistol, worn at the ready. “Pan,” he greeted roughly, matter-of-fact but far from welcoming. “What are you doing here?”

He knew the outlaw to be just twisted enough to immediately zero in on any weakness an opponent possessed. Anything - or anyone - a person showed concern or affection for became a target in the blink of an eye. Still, Killian could not keep himself from subtly moving to lean against the doorframe, with seeming nonchalance in the hope of inconspicuously blocking Emma Swan from view. When Malcolm glanced back over his shoulder with a nod for his two henchmen, Killian rapidly cut his eyes to Miss Swan with a fevered urgency, attempting to gesture wordlessly for her to slip behind him into the boardinghouse and out of sight.

Stubbornly she jerked her head ‘no’ in response, though thankfully she remained silent as she stood her ground. He couldn’t decide if she truly didn’t grasp the potential danger or merely didn’t wish to heed him. For his own part, Jones merely found he was almost desperate to keep her from attracting Pan’s attention. All things bright and shiny attracted the brigand for his own use, and the Sheriff feared that Emma Swan could all too easily be considered both.

Thankfully, whether she finally sensed the tension in the air and how the peaceful, relative quiet of the morning street had turned to eerie, absolute silence, but he could see the change on her face when she grasped that he was not simply ordering her about on a whim, but that the men before them were not ones to be crossed.

Despite the disagreement they had been enmeshed in mere minutes ago, her eyes held his for several anxious beats of time, and though he felt he should know better, KIllian would have sworn he saw fearful concern in her eyes for him. Another blink, and the moment passed. She faded backward through the open doorway into the boarding house and out of sight. Killian found, to his own troubled surprise, that her escape from Pan’s notice alone made it easier to draw a full breath into his lungs, square his shoulders, and move back across the street to meet the outlaw leader in front of the jail.

His nemesis had already caught sight of him and waited, seemingly at his leisure, for Jones to approach.

Killian let none of his apprehension or concern about how many others might be with the outlaw unseen or what sort of calamity Pan meant to incite show in his face or bearing. Instead, he merely stood before them, feigning for all the world a casual - if wary - curiosity as he looked up to stare into Malcolm’s face and asked, “Just what brings you into our town this morning?”

The jovial, disquieting expression of mirth didn’t fade from the outlaw’s face for a second, if anything, his insidious smile grew and stretched like the spidering cracks spreading out from a fissure in a leaking dam. Raising his bandolero, he let it fall off his head, to hang down his back until needed again, secured by a string. “What indeed,” he intoned smoothly, at last dismounting quickly, slippery as a fish, to land on the ground. His henchmen did the same, though more slowly and with a strange air of invulnerable certainty between them. Gaston, Killian had heard the one called before, when previously trekking into the saloon and blacksmith shop on his gang’s errands. Some French Canadian trapper who was lured into more and more dubious mercenary work as his traplines ran dry of his accustomed prey. At some point he had joined up with Malcolm and his gang, the raiding and looting serving his purposes just fine, and making for rather impressive backup muscle. The other Killian had only heard called James; he spoke little, but a cold, cruel smile was said to cross his lips before the gang attacked, a vicious smile that brought no light to his eyes. Seeing them both flanking their boss now made Killian especially vigilant, awaiting attack on their part.

“Why indeed?” Pan drawled, strolling forward as if he had all the time in the world to stand facing Killian on the steps of the building. “Why I’ve come to check on my man you’re holding here, Sheriff. Naturally, I intend to see that you’re treating him humanely.”

“You’re one to talk of humanity,” Killian challenged hotly, thinking of the savagery and carnage in the aftermath of the last strike Pan and his men had mounted against a stage coming through and its passengers.

“All the same,” Malcolm reiterated silkily, almost relishing Killian’s abhorrence. “I do mean to speak to my lieutenant. Mr. Nightshade is, after all, still a human being due his rights. If you don’t aim to see reason, Jones, and negotiate his release with me, then you can be damn certain I’ll see he’s receiving food and shelter, and not suffering any abuse.”

Killian chose not to justify that insinuation with an answer, though a disgusted grunt escaped his throat without his even attempting to stop it. The muscle in his cheek clenched visibly at his holding his tongue so tightly not to retort that Pan, Nightshade, or anyone in their gang had long ago thrown off their humanity, that he had seen Nightshade’s work firsthand and it was nothing short of the signature of a monster. Rising to the outlaw’s taunts - in truth, showing that their violence could still upset him after all these years - would do no good, and the last thing he wanted was to entertain the fiend.

By this time, Will had come to the door to meet them, looking out the peephole to ascertain Killian’s permission before swinging the solid portal open and showing he had heard the last bit of their exchange with his affronted growl. “Abuse?” he scoffed, no attempt to check the vitriol Killian felt roiling in his own gut too. “He’s bein’ treated better’n a vicious animal has any right to expect.”

Killian gave his deputy a sharp jerk of the head, in indication that such tirades would have no effect. But Malcolm’s eyes practically shone with glee as he paused while Killian quickly searched him for any hidden weapons, the leering pleasure at the raw nerve he seemed to have prodded reflected clearly in his expression.

“Oh, you have found you a fiery one for your second, haven’t you, Jones?” he chortled, unconcerned that he was now surrounded by three armed men in their own space as he crossed the threshold. He nodded as if to himself before adding, just loud enough for Killian to hear. “Reminds me of you, back when we first met… though dear elder brother kept you on a bit tighter leash.”

Killian jerked his head away, refusing to even look at Pan Malcolm’s gloating face while he dared speak of Liam. His teeth ground together so hard while he fought for control over himself, his voice, and the roaring in his veins, that he felt the pain. Breathing a deep, harsh breath out through his nose, he turned back to level Pan with the sort of dark glare he’d once struck fear with before donning a sheriff’s star. “You’re wasting time with your jibes,” he spoke low and evenly, but with a veiled threat in his tone. “Get over there and say your piece to Nightshade. Prisoner’s only allowed fifteen minute visits, and your clock is ticking.”

He turned his back on Pan then, moving several steps away to gather himself more fully, knowing both Smee and Will had their weapons at the ready and eyes tracking their adversary if he tried anything. The ache inside howled as though he had been sucker punched in an open wound. Malcolm might as well have reached in and squeezed his bleeding heart with grubby fingers bringing up Liam so callously. And the man knew it. Though he might feel as though he were gasping for breath, brought to his knees, he could not afford to show it.

Malcolm spoke in lowered tones to his man through the bars, and though Nightshade said little in response, the heavy-lidded ease that crept over his face did little to soothe any concerns Killian harbored for Pan’s intentions. The prisoner nodded his understanding at intervals, and though Killian did attempt to see if he could make out any plans or directives, a word here or there- quite probably purposefully dropped- were all his ears could catch.

Before he could warn the outlaw leader that his time was up, Pan pushed himself away from the bars, bidding Felix a cryptically bright farewell.

Coming to stand shoulder even with Killian’s once more, he spoke with a cavalier sort of insouciance, a roll of his neck as if to say it made little difference to him, Pan offered, “Sure you won’t see things my way once more, Jones?”

Killian glowered at him wordlessly, his stony silence making clear his answer needed no deliberation.

“Have it your way,” Pan chuckled lightly, even affecting a sorry sort of shake of the head, as if he hated to see it go this way. “You know we have more man power, more fire power. We’ve got the town surrounded, Sheriff. Those Marshalls can’t help you if they can’t get in, you know.”

He paused, as if savoring the pall he’d cast over the room, reveling in the dread realization that he spoke the truth. “Just what are you hoping to prove?” he continued. “Are you willing to die over one outlaw’s punishment?”

Tsking in mock dismay, he leaned into Killian’s space. “One would have hoped you wouldn’t be so foolish,” he murmured with a sadness anyone could see was feigned. “It must be something in the Jones blood that leads them to spill it needlessly.”

Before he knew what he was about Killian had lurched forward violently, fisting the front of Pan Malcolm’s fine shirt in his good hand and tightening his grip enough to cut off the other man’s airway. Pressing him firmly against the doorpost he seethed, fire in his eyes. “Possibly you can’t understand honor - you’ve never shown a hint of it. Now, get out of here before I throw you in the other cell, and let me worry about the Marshalls and this town,” he warned.

Slipping from his grasp as easily as a wet eel, Pan only grinned, a feral light twinkling still in his eyes. With a tip of his hat in a mockery of politeness, he slipped out the door with the parting shot of, “Be seein’ ya, Sheriff.”

Tagging a few who might be interested: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @thisonesatellite @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @wefoundloveunderthelight @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @let-it-raines @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @eala-captian @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @drowned-dreamer

#cs au mc #cs western au #rio bravo movie au #the lawman the thief and the outlaw #chapter four #cs ff

22 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

CS Fic Rec Monday: @snowbellewells

Since the school year started, it’s been difficult to find the time to post for @csficrecmonday (it’s a busy day in our house), but yesterday I got inspired by @snowbellewells first chapter of her western au which I have been eagerly awaiting!

I’m also having way too much fun with my new Canva subscription! I hope you like my little pic set of your story, Marta. I’m not really an artist, but I tried my best.

And everyone check out The Lawman, the Thief, and the Outlaw !

#cs ff #cs ff rec #cs fic rec monday #csfrm #the lawman the thief and the outlaw #snowbellewells

24 notes · View notes

that-house · 3 years

Text

The Thief and the Gun: Prologue part 1

The Thief and the Gun is going to be a pretty lengthy work if it’s ever finished. This is the first quarter or so of the prologue. Enjoy!

The front gate was too heavily guarded, so they’d elected to blast through the wall instead. In hindsight, it wasn’t the greatest plan, and would have doomed the mission if it weren’t for Virgil. Of course, Virgil doomed the mission himself shortly afterwards, but, to be fair, the gun had been quite persuasive.

A few weeks before the now-infamous Redwater Job, Virgil Hayes had just ducked into a saloon to avoid the gaze of a lawman across the road when a man at the bar caught his eye and beckoned him over. The man was wearing a fine suit which did very little to conceal the gun under his coat. Virgil pointed at himself and gave the man his best “you’ve got the wrong guy” face (a raised eyebrow, a friendly-but-awkward half-smile, and a head shake). The man patted the stool next to him. If it weren’t for the warrant on his head and the lawman in the street, Virgil would have made a run for it, but at least he could get a drink while this stranger said whatever horseshit he was about to spew.

Virgil took a seat. “Look, I don’t know who you’re looking for, but I ain’t him.” Hopefully.

The man pulled out a wanted poster. “This you?” Virgil gave it a quick once-over. It was unmistakably him. A very good likeness. He leaned forward to examine it better. By all the demons in the West, it was like looking in the mirror.

“Nope. Never seen him in my life. Good luck on your search!” Virgil turned away from the man to face the barkeeper with a grin. “I’ll have a whiskey.” From the look of the saloon, it wouldn’t be any good. The floorboards were rough, the paint on the walls was peeling, and the room couldn’t be any darker if the lone gas lamp were to stop guttering and finally go out. It looked like a place that had never seen money or happiness, let alone a good drink.

The air in the saloon was stagnant and reeked of cheap alcohol and sweat. A little evening sunlight found its way in through the door but only served to illuminate the dust gently drifting through the air in the wake of drunk patrons stumbling back to their homes or inns. Like everything in Dry Creek, the saloon felt ancient but impermanent. It may have stood here for decades, but if the mines ran out it would be gone and forgotten in a matter of days. Virgil suspected no one would miss it.

The man cleared his throat. “I’m not here to arrest you, Mr. Hayes. I have a proposition for you.”

“I have a whiskey to drink. I never feel like I can get my money’s worth out of a drink with some asshole talking my ear off. Maybe if you paid for it I’d be inclined to listen to you.” This was, of course, a lie. Virgil would enjoy the whiskey, shitty as it was, regardless of the man next to him. He just wanted a free drink.

“My employer can make you a rich man, Mr. Hayes. Rich enough that you’d be able to afford to pay for your own drinks and finally finish drinking yourself to death.” The man brushed some nonexistent dust off of his jacket in an attempt to demonstrate the benefits of working for whoever paid his salary. All of his clothes were obnoxiously fine, perfectly tailored and spotlessly clean. His perfectly polished boots reflected the dim glow of the lamp like a fine mirror. He looked like the sort of man who woke up with perfect hair, or, failing that, spent three hours marshalling every strand into place. The man’s gun was mostly hidden by his coat, but Virgil thought he saw flashes of gold inlaid into the grip. The overall impression was that of a fairly wealthy man doing his best to look even richer.

“I’m listening.” Remarkably, he actually was. As the West grew more and more established, Virgil’s lifestyle of good, honest banditry was looking less and less profitable.

“I’m going to assume you’ve heard the name Sylas Clayton?”

Like everyone else, Virgil knew the name, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for the man. “Can’t say I have.”

“Clayton Transportation? The richest man in the West?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, no.”

“There’s a statue of him in the center of town!”

“Thought that was an outhouse.”

“The trains, the towns, the lighthouses, they all exist through the benevolence of Mr. Clayton! Show some fucking respect.” He was angry, defensive of Clayton. Virgil had met people like him before, defining themselves by their proximity to a powerful individual. Anything to distract themselves from the fact that they didn’t matter.

“Why should I care about some rich bastard?”

“The question you should be asking is why Mr. Clayton cares about some broke outlaw like you.”

“Well, mister, why does Mr. Clayton care about some broke outlaw like me?”

“You’re a morally bankrupt rat who’s never made an honest dollar in his life. Your only skills are murder and robbery. You’ve made a name for yourself by being a slippery good-for-nothing thief.”

“Aw, thanks. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“While I’d sooner shoot my fingers off than work with you, Mr. Clayton has a job that needs doing, and you’re one of his prime candidates.”

“I have to work with you? I’ll pass.”

“Ten thousand dollars upon completion of the job. You’ll be set for life.”

“Ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand, and I’ll pay for your drink.”

With a sigh, Virgil stuck out his hand. The man looked at it with some distaste, eyeing the grime under Virgil’s nails and the pistol grip calluses as if they might be infectious. Finally, letting out a similarly dissatisfied sigh, he took Virgil’s hand and shook it as quickly as he could. Virgil did his best to draw the handshake out, relishing the man’s discomfort. “Never caught your name.”

The man’s reply was curt. “Vernon. Vernon Poole.” Now that he’d gotten Virgil’s cooperation, Vernon seemed to have lost any desire to continue pretending to enjoy Virgil’s company.

“Well, Vernon Poole, I think this is the start of a truly wonderful friendship.” It wasn’t, and they both knew it. Virgil had had his hand near his gun from the moment the man beckoned him over, and, while Vernon wasn’t quite so obvious, his hand had been floating by his side ever since Virgil had compared the Clayton statue to an outhouse. To be honest, Virgil didn’t see the both of them walking away from this job alive. He’d pushed his luck a little too far irritating the man. “So, when do I meet this Mr. Clayton fellow?”

“We’re taking the morning train to Coalstead.”

“I don’t know if you remember that poster you’ve got, but I’m a wanted man. The wrong eyes fall on me and I go right to the pyre.”

“Mr. Clayton owns that train and everyone on it. You won’t be facing justice just yet.”

“If you get me killed I have every intention of haunting you.”

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Hayes.”

“Fair ‘nough. Any chance I could convince you to buy me another drink?”

“I’d reckon the odds are about the same as you taking up farming.”

“Ah well, figured I’d try.”

#neon-grey-writing #The Thief and the Gun #Virgil and Serenity #original writing #oc #reblogs greatly appreciated

100 notes · View notes

rachelbethhines · 3 years

Text

Robin Hood and His Merry Band

list of characters for an original series I’m working on

Alan-a-Dale - the gloomy and cynical bard, the grumpy voice of reason who doesn’t give a fuck, wonders why he hangs out with these crazies, knows it’s cause they’re family to him but won’t admit it out loud, besties with Friar Tuck even though they never agree on anything, is clearly a bi disaster

The Archdeacon of Canterbury - The aging head cleric of the church of England. He supports King Richard but is becoming increasingly impotent because of his failing health. Still holds a lot of political power because of his title though.

The Azure Assassin - A deadly mercenary and rival to Robin Hood. Orphaned at a young age Azure had to steal to survive. She stowed away on a pirate ship at the age of ten and has spent the pass eight years studying fighting techniques the world over. They call her the Azure Assassin because her blue eyes are the last thing you’ll see before dying. She’s gained a modest fortune and fame as a spy and assassin, however she can never stay in one play too long due to her reputation getting out. Prince John has offered her a pardon and a place in high society if she brings in Robin Hood’s head. Shame she’s fallen in love with his brother Will Scarlet, as that complicates matters.

The Bishop of Hereford - Conservative asshole who supports Prince John’s rule and shares his beliefs on ‘bringing order to the kingdom’. Wants to usurp the Archdeacon as the head of the church. Is Friar Tuck’s and Sister Clara’s arch nemesis.

Dame Brianna DuBois - Also known as the The Black Knight, DuBois is loyal to the throne of England and whoever sits upon it. She’s Prince John’s personal bodyguard and unbeknownst to all a double agent for King Richard who is in hiding. However she is conflicted when her duty places her lover Yua in jeopardy. Yes, she’s totally a butch lesbian.

The Duke of Essex - Prince John’s adviser and right hand man. He only cares for power for power’s sake but is sneaky and conniving and willing to play the long game to get it. He prefers poison to swords, but is surprisingly good at hand to hand combat when cornered. Has a pet snake. It’s the only living thing that he loves.

Elenore of England - Prince John and King Richard’s sister and Maid Marian’s mother. She died when negotiations during a worker dispute turned violent. Unable to quell the people’s rage, she was stuck down during a riot. Richard, blaming himself for losing his temper and causing things to escalate has since tried to follow in her footsteps and become peacemaker. Prince John went the opposite route and blamed the ungrateful peasants (criminals in his mind) and resented Richard for even bothering to negotiating in the first place.

Friar Tuck - The jovial and optimistic heart of the team. He tries to keep everyone’s spirits up and believes that helping people is the ultimate expression of god’s love. Is a hopeless romantic and also very, very gay. He butts heads with more traditional leaders of the church often. He also has a not so secret crush on his best friend Alan.

Guy of Gisbourne - From pauper to nobleman, Guy is Robin’s opposite in everyway. He crawled up from the bottom rung by using and stepping on others and he’s always looking for the opportunity to climb the ranks. Don’t let his foppish ways fool you though, he is both a cunning and ruthless foe and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. His latest scheme however is to marry Maid Maiden and become next in line for the throne as Prince John has no other heirs save his ward.

King Richard - Good Richard the Lionhearted is no longer a bloodthirsty crusader in this alternate universe but a peacemaker. He wishes to end wars, not start them, however his more abrasive, uncouth, and impulsive nature can often clash with his loftier goals. Many feel the king would do better to stay at home and tend to domestic matters instead of concerning himself with the conflicts of other far off lands. At the start of the story he has disappeared on one of his diplomatic visits. In reality Prince John has stuck a deal with the king’s enemies and he is currently on the run.

Lady Tiffany - Little John’s little wife and the daughter of the Sherriff of Nottingham. She acts as the gang’s ‘man on the inside’ helping Robin Hood sneak in and out of places and feeding the team needed information. She’s stubborn and spoiled but also very kind hearted. She usually can get her father to give into her demands with just a pout and when that doesn’t work a full on tantum will do. She a woman who knows what she wants and what she wants is her man. Unfortunately daddy dreariest would never approve of their union and so Friar Tuck marries them in secret.

Little John - Robin’s best friend and right hand man. He’s a simple man who loves life’s simple pleasures, good food, good friends, and a good brawl from time to time. He adores his partner, Tiffany and would like nothing more than to marry her for real, in a real church, in front of the whole world. However their relationship must remained hidden from her father, the Sheriff, since the violent lawman would sooner see him hanged then have a thief for a son-in-law.

Lord Locksley - Robin’s and Will’s father. He is arrested for ‘not paying taxes’ but in reality it’s for supporting King Richard and secretly helping the displaced monarch. His arrest leads to Robin and Will becoming outlaws and the series kicks off two years later.

Maid Marian - Prince John’s ward and niece. Her mother died when she was young and her beloved uncle adopted her. Prince John is the only parent she’s ever known and she at first believes him to be a kind and just man. She’s completely oblivious of Prince’s John’s underhanded dealings and oppression of the poor and at first is skeptical of Robin Hood. However as the two grow closer, Marian learns how harsh the real world is and just how much her father figure has lied to her.

Miss Yua - Maid Marian’s lady-in-waiting and best friend. She’s the daughter of Sir Ivanhoe and longs to be a knight as well. She’s a stickler for rules and doesn’t trust Robin Hood and his gang of thieves. At first anyways, over time she too learns of Prince John’s cruelty and even becomes a victim of the tyrant’s schemes. Which puts her in direct conflict with her love, Brianna DuBois.

Much the Miller's Son - born as Midge the miller’s daughter, the young Much longs to be accepted as a boy. As such he’s ditched his dresses, cut his hair, and ran away to Sherwood Forrest in order to be free from society’s expectations. The rest of the merry band accepts Much for who he really is, but at only 13 won’t let him join their gang. He still winds up caught up in their misadventures anyways due to his refusal to listen to anybody, and his determination to get away from his overbearing mother.

Nurse Agnes - Maid Marian’s wet nurse and the closest thing to a mother that she has. Agnes believes in the ‘old ways’ and is very superstitious. She’s also very critical of royalty in general, but is smart enough not to say so out loud. She’s tried to raise Marian into a better person than Prince John, but eventually was dismissed once Marian had come of age. Since leaving the court Agnes has become the witch of the woods and a healer for the poor.

Prince John - The main antagonist. Prince John believes that he needs to bring order to the kingdom of England and feels like his brother King Richard has neglected his duties as ruler and placed the kingdom in danger. He'll do whatever it takes to protect the country including subjecting it’s undesirables.

Robin Hood - Leader of the Merry Band and archer extraordinaire, Robin Hood had to go on the lam when his father was arrest for ‘treason’. While his first priority was to keep his baby brother, Will, safe, the two of them met other outcasts in need over the years have built up an underwound network of rebels who fight against Prince John’s rule. Seemingly suave and cool at first, Robin is actually a bundle of nerves as he tries desperately to keep his friends and family safe...even if it’s mostly from themselves. His world is turned upside down though when he meets the lovely Maid Marian.

Sheriff of Nottingham - The spiteful and cruel sheriff tries to keep the small town of Nottingham under his thumb. He hates Robin Hood and his Merry Band with a passion and sees their continued exitance as a personal insult. The only thing that will deter him from his goal of putting those outlaws in their place is his devotion to his beloved daughters Tiffany. Who distracts him with her seemingly impulsive and shallow whims.

Sir Ivanhoe - A respected knight who once served under King Richard has returned home only to find that his king has not made the journey back as planned. He suspects that Prince John is up to no good, but is afraid to make any risky moves so long as his daughter Yua lives among the court. Her safety is the most important thing in the world to him.

Sister Clara - The resident nerd of Sherwood Forrest and the brains of the team. Clara had joined a convent in order to receive an education and to study science, however her experiments were frowned upon by more traditional leaders of the church, like the Bishop of Hereford. She’s since renounced her monastic vows and has joined Robin Hood’s Merry Band in the pursuit of science! She’s allowed free rein on the sole condition that she doesn’t blow up the camp. She still manages to blow up the camp, at least once a month. Still her inventions are invaluable to the team and she’s absolutely feral with her chim-bombs.

The Trapper - A mysterious hermit who sometimes visits the local pub. He’ll often corner patrons with crazy drunken ramblings and loves to give Robin cryptic prophecies and disjoined ‘clues’ whenever they run into each other. (turns out this is an act and he’s really a spy for King Richard)

Will Scarlett - Robin’s younger brother. Will was 15 when they lost their father and now at 17 wants revenge. He’s a hothead and is constantly picking fights with everyone and anyone. While he is dismissive of Robin’s overprotectiveness, he both loves and admires his brother. Even tries to emulate him in some ways. He also would like to think of himself as a smooth talking clever con artist and ladies man but more often then not his temper gets the better of him. Like most teens he’s obsessed with the latest fashion tends and loves to wear fancy clothes (that he’s usually stolen) He’s favorite article of clothing is his impractical red feathered hat. He’s in love with Azure and is best friends with Much.

#robin hood #robin hood and his merry band

16 notes · View notes

traitreespiegle · 2 years

Text

just how wild is our love, @lilacdulcis

One simply couldn’t deny that the 1800s truly was the time for a life of invention, opportunity and freedom. There was an array of lifestyles ripe for the taking, suiting the array of souls that walked across the country and tailored to their preferences to the type of life that they wanted to live. Granted that the safety of others were not gravely endangered and well, that those with power and influence were not bothered. Previously, such lives had been denied beneath the prejudice of gender, class and education. Inventions were birthed constantly, creating another path for an adventurous soul to follow and create a life that previously never been experienced. You see, the creation of the telegraph instantly connected humans across thousands of miles; the construction of railroads had been the death of some towns while it had been the birth of others and the invention of the gun promptly established settlers’ dominance among each other. It had created the possibility for money, authority and adventure to be achieved in an array of ways. Soon, an array of criminals, both silent and boisterous, had been birthed and alongside them, bounty hunters. And were all criminals, criminals? Or did they simply fight back those who had taken from them? Those who were in such positions that couldn’t be fought?

It was no secret that a lawman, whether they were a magistrate, sheriff or revenue collector, could be corrupt. In fact, there was little surprise when members of the law were discovered hidden among the ranks of gangs to earn that of a pretty penny amongst their already generous pay. You see, conversation amongst the people spread like a wildfire amongst the thick undergrowth and couldn’t be stopped, well, unless fear was ignited in their hearts. And it was no surprise when those involved in the law used their position to silence those that dared to talk, framing them for a sickening crime or simply making them disappear without a trace among an array of other colourful options. Jessep Hixon was, perhaps, the worst of the worst and was one of those corrupt men of the law and was not only thick as a thief within the likes of a barbarous gang but was the cruel and ever so calculated leader of it. He was responsible for countless of cruel and careless deaths of men, women and children all in the name of deepening his pockets. His crimes were nothing but savage, crueler than the demons that hide in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

To be wanted in such times as the rough and tumble Wild West was no easy feat, especially when the offered bounty was truly deserved. Amara Isolda led a life of crime and had earned each of her charges proudly, earning her spot as a most wanted outlaw with ease. There was no reason to try and deny such a fact. Her list of crimes ranged from the simple misdemeanours to minor and major felonies to frightening hanging offences but none of them had been birthed from malice or pure darkness and instead, arose from revenge. She was the fierce rival to Jessep Hixon, the corrupt man of the law that had murdered her entire family over her father’s refusal to trade. And Amara had, sadly, been the sole survivor of the massacre, sent off by her oldest brother to a secret basement where she had listened to the brutal murders that had taken place. It had been an frightening experience, the memories haunting her across her childhood and even to this very day and leaving her in a stalemate, unable to move on with her life until Hixon saw his empire shattered, broken and then buried six feet beneath the dirt and until that guilt of being a survivor had long left. She had become a Good Samaritan of sorts among Hixon’s victims, taking in those that were struck by his unforgiving hand and giving them somewhere safe to live, to hide and begin to get back on their feet, grant them an education, money, a carriage and a powerful steed so that they could disappear into a far away city and start a new life.

She had a strict set of rules that acted as her moral compass, kept her upon a road that she believe that could be returned from.

1. There was, by no means, killing of women or children.

2. Stealing from the poor was simply out of the question and such acts of thievery were kept only ever for the rich and the deserving.

3. Those that were the unfortunate victims of Hixon and his unforgiving violence were given a home and safety far from his reach.

4. Hixon and his beloved empire were nothing more than free, deserving game that could easily fend for themselves and could be struck wherever and whenever was possible.

5. Those who worked for Hixon, those that supported him were just as worthy to her wrath as he was.

Bounty hunters, revenue agents and those alike all inevitably came to collect the array of prices that lingered over her head but most hoped to collect the 10,000 bounty that was ordered by Jessop Hixon himself. And just as they came, they were dispatched in a manner of ways. Whether it was a bribe, death or simple survival was their choice. There had been a heavy stream of the greedy bastards these last few weeks, the 5,000 addition to her price making her the highest paying bounty currently on offer. Who didn’t want to try and collect such a wage? It was more than enough to purchase a home and settle into a easy life with retirement coming early. But, an easy feat it was not. Today was that of a simple day. Amara had little plans other than divulge in some hard-earned pleasure and well, this saw her comfortable in a saloon that was, in fact, owned by one of her more esteemed alias, with a glass of whiskey cradled in her hand and the brim of her hat cast across the brim of her brows. She was well aware of those that surrounded her and the movement of someone slipping inside of the establishment but paid little attention to them and instead, listened idly to the stream of music that echoed throughout the establishment by an older woman with a talent for playing the piano.

#. ( lilacdulcis ) *･ﾟ✧ ⎸ yennefer of vengerberg #. ( verse ) *･ﾟ✧ ⎸ The bounty and the bounty hunter #. ( ship ) AMARA & YENNEFER *･ﾟ✧ ⎸ I WANNA HEAR HOW YOUR HEART SPEAKS #. ( ship ) *･ﾟ✧ ⎸ AMARA & YENNEFER

5 notes · View notes