#there ain’t no way they give the blue bastard that much of a backstory for Longclaw to just disappear as a character in the background | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

patches-bitsandbobs · 2 years

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started: 2/7/2018: Mr. Green’s yoyo is stolen, and he finds himself within the strange world of the Noid Void!

he'd lost interest in what was happening the moment he'd fallen into the Noid Void. a random assortment of sentient pizza toppings, scattered Domino pizza boxes, a vast emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever; really, it wasn't enough to captivate his attention, and he was still pretty salty about his recent loss to the Noid. to make things worse, he found out that his yoyo was missing off his person, and that was before being teleported to where ever the fuck he was now. and sure, he'd found his yoyo; pretty recently after he'd lost it, too, but god, at what cost?

he couldn’t help but think if the entire thing was a trap. with how much running he’s had to do in the span of a few short minutes, the idea seems more and more likely.

at first, he pinned all of the blame on the red bastard, who was continuing to make his life forevermore miserable. but when he paid attention to the details, he realised that that was giving Noid way too much credit. sure, he could be a mastermind at destroying pizza - dare he even say that he could destroy them in a creative manner - but to do all this? even he hadn't thought of such a demise - to trap someone in a world full of toppings and boxes, and worlds compromised souly for completing the Domino tower to somewhere. that would have been an even better plan to take over New York! just keep everyone stuck in a void of nothingness, forced to eat nothing but Dominos pizza!

so, after hanging around, he guessed that someone really had it out for him. as if he deserved such treatment. he'd never done anything wrong in his entire life, and the havoc of New York obviously didn't count. nope, he was innocent; a pure hearted soul. if anyone deserved this, it was the Noid, not him.

he ends up at the top of the completed Domino tower, after gruelling hours of going through each world, swinging and jumping and climbing to reach those sweet sweet boxes of pizza goodness. he's thrown into a black and blue world, and at that point, he is beyond pissed off. he swears that whoever's behind this fuckery is going to get a swift punch to the face. as if the Noid wrecking his plans and ruining his reputation wasn't enough humiliation; now he had to put up with this shit too. it was insulting! oh it made him positively seethe!

after scaling some static filled TV's and doing some more light swinging, he breaks a cracked TV with a die and falls into a large room that architecturally makes no sense. he see's a man on a separate platform hunched behind a desk, looking bored yet interested at the same time, and pure rage boils from his core.

'yo, where the fuck am I, crayon man?' the man's response is silence. it didn't help improve his mood. 'uh, can you talk over there, chump?'

'what's the matter?' the man finally said, his voice all weirdly pitched and robotic. 'did you stink of failure so much that you had to change suits, or did red become a boring colour to look pathetic in?' that especially bit at a nerve.

'who the fuck do you think you're talkin' to, guy? do I look like that red piece of shit, or are you jus' blind and stupid? as if I'd look any good in red anyway! so fuckin' insulting!' the blue haired man looked taken aback and, quite frankly, insulted at his snap.

'do you kiss your mother with that mouth?'

'my backstory wasn't developed enough for me to honestly answer that question.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'then beg.' the man looked irritated, and he shook his head.

'enough! are you the Noid, here to stop my plans, or not?'

'the fuck I ain't, chump!' he placed his hands on his hips, frowny eyes deepening in their spite. 'I might look like his twin, but that means fuck all. I ain't as dumb as him, for one, and I can ask animals and men alike to do my evil biddings for me. all he does is destroy pizzas- anyway fuck all'a that, are you the bitch that stole my yoyo?' obviously, from the mans bewildered expression and stunned replies, the hellhole he'd experienced hadn't been meant for him. fucking wonderful. 'are you tellin' me,' he began, as he stalked towards the edge of the platform, 'that this entire thing weren't even meant for me?'

'you look no different than him! and I'm sure that erasing the world with you in it would make little difference to the outcome! I am going to release the Vocal Noid whether you stop me or not!' the man stood up, hands flat on the desk, determination in his grimace, and Mr. Green had no clue as to what the fuck he was going on about. 'that Noid is already dead! his five minutes of fame are already over! it means little to me that I get rid of his counterpart too! in fact, it would do me more favours, with getting rid of your pesky existence!'

'watch that mouth'a yours my dude, least you want to keep usin' it.'

'HA! and what are you going to do? as if you could jump this gap.' now he sounded impossibly smug, and it was in that one moment that Mr. Green deemed the man to death. 'I programmed this part of the world specifically for this one moment, so there is no way a dead mascot like you could ever make it without needlessly tumbling to your death over and over again-' he stopped running his mouth when he spotted two green ears in front of his desk, softly bobbing up and down. he peeked over the edge, and saw two beady, angry eyes and a malicious, open-mouthed grin greeting him, his arms swinging by his sides in an almost taunting manner. he hadn't even head his footsteps, nor his menacing "HEH" when he'd bridged the large gap.

Mr. Green hopped up on the desk with ease, a mitten-gloved hand clenched tightly into Mike's vest faster than the Vocoloid could react, and suddenly he was face to uncomfortable face with the not-mascot. there was no way Mr. Green was allowing someone to continue living when they compared him to the Noid.

'told you I weren't that red bastard, shit for brains.'

and now he's stuck in that world, because he killed Mike by punching him in the face so god damn hard, his metallic brain had exploded out the back of his head. he's pretty sure that his hand is broken, but it's not his yoyo-ing hand, so he's relatively fine with it. the world is now, by definition, saved, since Mike is dead and the Vocal Noid was never truly allowed to be released for the world to dematerialise, but the heavenly spire never returned to its place either. Mr. Green got out of ??? ??? and returned to the Noid Void, and upon finding out that nothing had changed in terms of his freedom, he figured, "fuck it, this is my new home now. even if it sucks ass".

so he lives there with all the other toppings and a broken hand, and he supposes that things could be ultimately worse. it's a kinda happy ending I guess

the Noid, back in the safety of New York, happily walks home none the wiser, with his bundle of pizza boxes stacked under one arm, and his other hand bouncing his yoyo up and down.

this is stupid 3jsdhgsdf the original is still up on AO3, and it even had images?? I got no idea what they even were, but if I had to hazard a guess, it was probably this

#10t #yo noid #2018 #aj3dfsdnjdf #character death #??

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asexualbert · 3 years

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Okay, no, I have to know what your thoughts about Mamma Mia 2 are...

You my friend have opened a can of worms and I am here to RANT.

FIRST OF ALL. They did my man Harry DIRTY. What the hell happened to "Harry Headbanger" huh??? Rosie and Tanya knew EXACTLY who Donna was talking about when she referred to him as such. He gave her his guitar! Who was this twink ass little bitch we saw because it sure as HELL wasn't Harry!

SECOND OF ALL. Anyone remember Honey Honey? Not only was it a fucking BOP, but it also VERY clearly laid out the events in which Donna did some dot dot dot with the fellas. This song could have, nay, SHOULD have been the framework for the plot of Here We Go Again but the writers said Nah, none of that, we do what we want. Now, if there had been big ol' plot holes and continuity issues within the backstory they gave us, I'd forgive this but the fact is, I can lay out the timeline REAL easy just from the songs in 1 and in fact, I will!

Timeline: Donna goes to Paris for a summer, meets Harry, they date and chill for a while, it's a grand ol' time, he gives her his guitar, whoopee, that's Our Last Summer. Later, Donna meets Sam, they date for a while, fall madly in love obviously, he shows her the island (dot dot dot). Sam leaves like a little bastard to get married. August 4th (what a night), she meets Bill. They get on pretty well so he rents a boat and they go to the island (dot dot dot). August 11th (what a night), Harry turns up out of the blue. They pick up where they left off, she shows him the island (dot dot dot). Bing bang boom, Sophie exists the rest is history. Point: IT AIN'T THAT HARD TO PUT TOGETHER.

THIRD OF ALL: CHER. Why?????? Cher does NOT need to be in this movie. I like Fernando as much as the next lad but they did not for a MOMENT need to shoehorn it into this damn movie! I was VERY happy hating Donna's mother for being some completely off screen terrible mom and leaving it at that. Grandma did not need to make an appearance, they just plopped her in there to shove Fernando into the soundtrack and I'm BITTER about it.

FOURTH. Why did they need to kill of Donna??? The only thing this accomplished was providing us with less Meryl Streep which honestly, only a bummer, this is Mamma Mia people I expect my Donna!

FIFTH. The whole thing with Rosie and Bill breaking up and whatever. After Take A Chance, there were only TWO ways I could see that relationship going. A) They hook up a bit. Casual relationship. That's it. B) IN IT FOR LIFE. A genuinely serious relationship ended with him CHEATING just does NOT track for any of what we saw of either of these people and I DISLIKE IT STRONGLY.

I will give it credit though for the fact that Lily James is fantastic, and Sophie and Sky are wonderful and pretty on brand.

Minor complaint: Would have liked some more Aly and Lisa please? I do seem to remember that Sophie had friends?

#you asked for this #you got it #this is almost 4am Al ranting #I WILL continue watching clips from this movie #and enjoying them #but also every time Harry comes on screen during Why Did it Have To Be Me #i will get mad.#because he is ALL wrong #Mamma Mia #Mamma Mia here we go again

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thanksjro · 4 years

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Last Stand of the Wreckers, Issue #1: A Couple of Nerds Nerd it Up

The year is 2009, and you are a British man in his mid-30s. You were a part of a fan club for Transformers in the 90’s, and you wrote a lot of fanfiction and comic scripts for it. The only real claim to fame you have is a novel-length fic you wrote to try and bridge the gap between Generation 1 and the Beast War era, one that a lot of people have read and refer back to. You’re pretty content with that, and don’t try to break into any sort of writing career on your own. You have a job in public service, you have a family.

One day, your old buddy Nick gets in contact. He wants some help with a story he’s working on for the current holder of the Transformers comics. It’s called Last Stand of the Wreckers.

Things are about to get very busy for you.

I’ll go ahead and say it- not any mechpreg in this one. You gotta wait until the sequel series for things to get weirdly horny, sorry to say. Also, technically only a plotting credit for Roberts here.

We hadn’t yet gotten to the point where he was allowed to rub his grubby little nerd hands all over everything.

So, let’s get to the nitty-gritty of this thing, shall we?

Our story opens on a lovely, sunshiney day on the beautiful Garrus-9.

Perfect weather for a picnic, don’t you agree?

Fortress Maximus and his cohorts are hard at work defending against the Decepticon forces, who have launched an attack on just about everything in the galaxy. This event is happening in the background of All Hail Megatron, as part of an offensive attack under the orders of ol’ Buckethead himself.

Kick-Off, another Autobot at Garrus-9, thinks that this is the work of someone on the inside, and Fort Max wants his prison intact for when they find the rat bastard who caused all this mess to happen, so he can lock that son of a gun up for a long, long time.

Then Overlord shows up.

There he is, the nastiest creature to grace the galaxy, a bitch so extra he’s apparently got to cycle through BOTH of his alt-modes before he lands on the scene to wreck shop.

Prior to Last Stand of the Wreckers, Overlord didn’t really have a whole lot going on. It’s a big part of why he was made the antagonist for this miniseries- nobody else was using him, so no risk of fudging up any continuity happening outside of it. Prior to this, he was mostly part of the Japanese Transformers scene, appearing in the Super-God Masterforce anime and manga. He had a reputation for being a bad dude there too, but not quite to the level we’ll be getting to here.

Also, he was actually two people, who were married. He is not a married couple in Last Stand of the Wreckers.

Overlord asks which one of the much weaker, smaller, and less terrifyingly kissable Decepticons is in charge, and Skyquake steps up, despite the fact that everyone is obviously nervous about the fact Overlord is here. Overlord lets Skyquake know that the plan Megatron came up with is out, and he’s got the new hotness that’ll really put Garrus-9 on a map labelled “Places That Are the Actual Worst.” Of course, Skyquake, who seems to think a guy named Overlord can be reasoned with, says that they can’t deviate from Megatron’s grand plan, and promptly is shot to death for his troubles.

And that’s a series wrap on Skyquake! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

With the little dude out of the way, Overlord’s decided it’s time to go full cowl on the Autobots, ripping them limb from limb. Literally, in some cases. It’s pretty gruesome, but then again, that’s kind of the point. This is a pretty dark miniseries, and not just because of all the violence- but we’ll get to all that later on.

With the Autobots subdued, it’s time for Overlord to really strut his stuff. He releases all the Decepticon prisoners, and promises them a grand old time of torturing their former captives. As a show of good will…? he throws them Fort Max to play with, saying that the only rule is they have to at least TRY to not kill him.

Smash cut to two years, four months, later.

Some nerds just got put on the Wreckers, and they truly are the cream of the crop.

Garrus-9’s gonna be in good hands.

The dude who’s totally copping Optimus Prime’s look is Pyro, and the little dude with the blue helmet and tragic backstory is Ironfist. There’s also Dipstick, but this isn’t about him.

Just as things look like they can’t get any more exploded, their ride shows up, and it’s time to go. They say they’ll catch Dipstick later, but that’s honestly pretty unlikely, given the nature of the Wreckers as a group.

The boys load up into the ship, but find something not quite to their expectations- instead of Ultra Magnus being there to greet them, it’s none other than Verity Carlo, human extraordinaire!

And she’s in her jammies. No real point in getting dressed for a bunch of guys who don’t even understand the concept of nudity, I guess, though I do have to question how vacuum sealed her breasts are.

Unless Verity is one of those godless heathens who actually owns an underwire sports bra.

The boys react to their first human in different ways- Ironfist has his parental instincts kick in hard, immediately ready to protect and potentially die for Verity. The others are a little less impressed, claiming that she’s some sort of stowaway who Magnus only puts up with because she’s good at playing house.

Kind of weird that these giant robots are so good at sexism, seeing as at this point, none of them should even know what a woman is.

This is the point where the big guns come in to greet our boys.

So, here’s the deal: Garrus-9’s been out of contact with the rest of the Autobots for over a year at this point, and it was recently revealed by a mole in the Decepticon Justice Division that anyone getting even remotely close to the planet has been shot down. The destruction of the space bridges means that only a few folks are able to get to the place- cue the Wreckers.

Our boys have been chosen because they’ve done a lot of good work, and protected those around them. It’s an honor to be a Wrecker, but there’s always a catch:

I’m sure it’ll be fine!

Flashback to two years ago, back on Garrus-9, and Overlord’s really enjoying his time on the prison planet, hunting Autobots for sport and scaring the bejesus out of everyone by popping out of nowhere.

This is a typical reaction to seeing Overlord when he DOESN’T intend to kill you. The guy’s a menace.

Looks like they caught their prey, and they’re feeling pretty good about it. What a nice thing for them, I’m glad they’re having fun.

How does this guy know where he’s going? His chest’s so tall.

Our Autobot isn’t going down without a fight, though, as he takes the spear they’re stabbing him with and gives the ‘Cons a taste of their own medicine.

For about two seconds anyway, then he gets wasted by Overlord.

Of course, Overlord’s an equal-opportunity sadist, and also blasts the two guys who let a wounded Autobot get the better of them. With the game concluded and a valuable lesson taught, the Decepticons retire to the base, Overlord ordering the tall-chested guy- Snare- to bring the Autobot for recycling, something that Snare doesn’t seem terribly thrilled to do.

Seriously though, has this dude ever seen his feet?

Back on Ultra Magnus’ ship, Ironfist’s gone and passed out. When he wakes up, he’s surrounded by the rest of the boys, who are really concerned about his well-being. Aww, it’s sweet that they care so much about their buddy.

Ironfist brushes off the concern, saying that he’s fine, and then we’re introduced to his deep, dark, horrible secret.

He’s a massive fucking nerd.

And so are the guys who worked on this story. T’muk, indeed. Also, this robot has... my word, are those fingerprints? Roche, you spoil us.

Ironfist writes datalogs on the Wreckers in his spare time under the screen name Fisitron - Wreckers: Declassified, it’s called. Which, you know, good for him.

Well this panel’s art direction isn’t ominous AT ALL.

Springer enters the scene at this point, also very concerned about Ironfist, to an honestly interesting degree. Almost like he knows something. Ironfist, again, brushes it off. Kup notes that Springer seems like he’s got something on his mind, which he does.

That something is the fact that he’s most likely sending these boys to die, as is the nature of the Wreckers.

Kup points out that it always feels worse when people die under your personal command, then asks if Springer’s conscience is being weighed on by Impactor at all. Springer seems like he really doesn’t want to talk about Impactor. Before the conversation can get any more soaked in implications, the two are called to the bridge.

A flashback to a month prior on Garrus-9: Overlord watches as Kick-Off brutalizes a Decepticon, Borehole, in combat for his amusement. It seems like Kick-Off’s done pretty well for himself in the nightmare hellscape that is Garrus-9, though it’s probably because he’s running on basic survival instincts at this point as opposed to any actual enjoyment of what’s happening around him.

Kick-Off wins the fight by ripping Borehole’s head off.

That’s pretty metal. Most of what happens on Garrus-9 is pretty metal. Not in a good way. But metal nonetheless.

With the fight finished, Overlord congratulates the victor, and invites him back to his quarters to pick out his prize. Kick-Off seems to be off in his own little world at this point, probably disassociating due to trauma.

Back with the Wreckers, we finally see Ultra Magnus, Verity’s put a shirt on- likely at Magnus’ request- and we see what Springer and Kup were called to the bridge for. Looks like a Decepticon ship’s been shooting out a distress signal, and it ain’t lookin’ so hot at present. Ultra Magnus attempts to hail, but it looks like too little, too late, as the thing’s hull integrity goes kaput and the whole thing explodes.

Seems like the end of that, right?

Nah.

Wow, that sure seems like it’ll be a problem. Better shoot that mysterious figure to death before they can be recognized by the cast and cause a whole slew of issues.

Aw, man! Too late. Looks like someone broke out of jail, and nobody is happy to see him.

With that character reveal, we end Issue #1 of Last Stand of the Wreckers.

#transformers #jro #last stand of the wreckers #issue 1 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #story plotting #wreckers trilogy

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reddeadmort · 5 years

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This a different kind of request but how about Arthur & kid reader where he saves a kid from the streets and becomes a father figure like Dutch/Hosea did for him and they’re really good at picking pockets/running scams with Hosea & co but Arthur goes really overprotective Dad on them when they ask to go robbing a coach or something

Okay, so this ended up being a lot longer than I intended 🤦. I’m a sucker for a good backstory/establishing motivations, and kinda got caught up in that. Ending lines unashamedly nicked from the mission where Kieran saves Arthur’s ass 😂.

Arthur Morgan x Teen Reader | You’ve got to pick a pocket or two to get to Tahiti

Guidance: Some swearing, gender-neutral reader, father/child type relationship.

Words: 3.1k

As you stood behind the Valentine saloon, leaning against a shed while you watched the other kids squabble over a game of Horseshoes, you thought that maybe this life wasn’t so bad. You had been made an orphan by dysentery two years ago, at the age of 13; you’d initially gone to live with your uncle in Saint-Denis, but the near-daily beatings had forced you to seek refuge elsewhere after only a few months.

Unsurprisingly for a large city, you weren’t the only kid with nowhere to go, and you quickly had found a small gang willing to look after you and teach you the ropes. You had to pay your way of course, but once you learned how to pick pockets and use lockpicks it was easy. You worked hard at these skills, and were proud of how good you were, though you were pretty sure your parents wouldn’t have been.

For the last year or so, life had been pretty good. You always found a roof to sleep under, and didn’t go hungry too often; while the future didn’t exactly look bright, the present wasn’t a complete mess. You were happy, until you’d been told by the leader to steal from the wrong carriage. You’d hopped on to the back, unseen, and made short work of the lockbox. You’d been expecting some bags of jewellery, nice small things you could easily hide away and split between the others kids – 10 kids selling a ring or two at a few different places looks far less suspicious than one kid with a whole bag. Instead, you’d found a pile of documents.

Flicking through, trying to see if there was any money in any of the envelopes, you had finally paused, concentrating hard as you tried to read one of the letters in your hand. You weren’t too sure what it said, but you could just about read the signature at the bottom; it was from the Mayor’s office. When you had read the recipient’s name, your heart had dropped. Angelo Bronte. Mr Bronte had made it clear he didn’t appreciate any of your lot even looking at him and his men, let alone rooting around in his stuff; you still hadn’t found all the pieces of the last kid that tried to swipe something from his pocket at that party.

You had quickly stuffed the letters back in the box, readying yourself to jump off, as the carriage had quickly turned into the grounds of a large house. One of the guards had seen you almost immediately and grabbed you before you even had a chance to attempt to escape. Angelo himself had gotten a good look at you as he stepped down from the carriage, and instructed the guard to take you to the kitchens. You hadn’t stuck around to find out if he meant to feed you or make you alligator food. You’d bitten the guard holding you hard, then run around the back of the house, slipping through the railings. You’d hidden in the first carriage leaving the city that you could find, and had stayed there until Rhodes. From there, you’d hitched a lift where you could, with or without the driver’s permission. And so you’d ended up in Valentine.

This little bunch of kids you’d found here were nice; a bit younger than you, which made you the responsible one of the group. This made you uncomfortable, but you’d done your best. You were living in an abandoned shack just beyond the edge of town; you’d have happily camped out under the stars out here when you could, but these kids were softer than you. They all knew each other, runaways from some home in a place called Blackwater. They hadn’t been out here long; you’d tried your best to teach them how to survive, but they were too young to really understand the trouble they were nor be any good at stealing.

Your daydreaming was interrupted by shouts and swearing, and you saw one of the kids sprinting down the alleyway towards you, clutching a large satchel.

“(Y/N), look what I got! Isn’t it great!” The kid held the satchel up to you as you looked up to see what you assumed to be the owner run into the alley. He was huge; tall, built like a brick shithouse. And he was pissed.

“Come here you little bastard!” It was more of a growl than a yell, and he started to run towards you. There was no way you were going to be able to outrun this man, and with the two pistols, knives and rope hanging from his gun belt you knew that wasn’t much point even trying. But you sure as hell weren’t going to let this young kid take the beating that was coming either. Snatching the satchel, you yelled at the others to run as you stood your ground. They scattered, all going in completely different directions; at least they’d learnt something from you, you thought.

You stared directly into the eyes of the man, as his run slowed to a jog and he came to a stop in front of you.

“Give me the satchel, kid.” His voice was low and he muttered through gritted teeth. “And tell me where the lad that took it went. Me an’ him need to have a little…..discussion.”

“This satchel Sir? I took this satchel from you, I do apologise. I was under the mistaken belief that it belonged to my good friend.” You may struggle to read, but you’d learned a few things from being around all those posh nobs in Saint-Denis. You held out the satchel, and the man took it back carefully. You’d expected him to snatch it; to grab you, to yell at you. Instead, he was staring down at you, frowning slightly.

“It weren’t you kid. And I ain’t about to discipline someone who ain’t done nothin’. Where is he.”

“Who, sir? I don’t see anyone but us here.” You gulped slightly as you said this, realising how true it was; this man could kill you, and no-one would probably even notice. But as you stared back into those blue-green eyes, something told you he wouldn’t.

The man in front of you sighed as he swung his satchel back over his head.

“Kid, how old are you? What’s your name?”

“I’m old enough to know not to give that information out, sir.” You regretted this as soon as you said it, you didn’t want to rile him further. You were relieved when he laughed.

“Fair enough kid, fair enough” he chuckled. “Well, I’m Arthur Morgan. When was the last time you ate? I’d happily buy you some food. You’re a good kid, and you don’t deserve to starve.”

You desperately wanted to take him up on his offer. Valentine was a small town, not many people to pickpocket; and, if you were honest, you were scared of doing so, everyone seemed to be armed. You’d managed to get hold of some scraps from one of the kind ladies in the saloon but had given them to the other kids. But your brain was screaming at you to get the hell out of this situation.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks mister.” The man you now knew as Arthur continued to stare at you, like he was looking for something; then he tucked his hand into his pocket and threw you a few coins.

“Suit yourself. Be careful, kid” he said as he turned and walked away. You watched him as he left; you certainly didn’t think that was how this situation was going to end when you’d seen Arthur thundering towards you.

The first thing you did was run to the general store and buy as many canned goods you could carry. You’d have to hide them from the others, ration them, but hopefully it would tide you over and take some of the pressure off. As you left, the shop owner closed and locked the door behind you for the evening.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the shack you shared, but you walked slowly, admiring the stars above you. Life might be harder out here, but it sure was a nice place to be. Your contentment was shattered when you heard screaming and crying from the shack ahead of you. Ducking behind a rock, you looked out only to see the younger kids being bundled into a carriage with the words “Saint Christopher’s Orphanage” on the side. There was nothing you could do, there were at least 4 men with the carriage and what looked like a nun inside. Orphanages could be horrible places, you knew the stories, but you knew these kids were too young to survive on their own yet. Maybe in a few years.

Sighing, you picked up your bag, slipped away from the commotion and headed back into Valentine. You were close when it started raining; at first, it was refreshing; that day had been hot. But it wasn’t long before you were soaked to the bone and shivering. As you reached the edge of Valentine, you tried the doors of a few sheds and outhouses only to find them locked. You headed for one place you knew would be dry, warm, and had a broken backdoor – the stables. You quietly slipped in the back, seen only by a couple of horses; they gave a soft whinny and snorted as you crept past into an empty stall. It was a risky place to sleep, but no-one should be in again until the morning, and you’d be long gone by then.

It didn’t take long for you to start to doze off – if life on the streets had given you one thing, it was the ability to fall asleep quickly in the strangest places. You’d only been there, nestled in the warmth of the hay, for half an hour when suddenly you were awoken by an extremely angry, red-faced, pot belly man screaming in your face.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?! You planning on robbing me eh? Sleeping here so you can wake up in the middle of nights and steal my hard earned money?! I should kill you, you little rat!”

He grabbed you by the front of your shirt, lifting you off the ground, and threw you to the floor again. You scrambled to your feet and were going to try and grab for your bag until you saw the barrels of a shotgun levelled at your face. You didn’t even bother trying to reason with the man; he was drunk, you could smell it, and obviously a lunatic. You launched yourself at the front stable doors, praying they were open. They were, and you stumbled as you slammed through them, just as the spray of a shot hit the wall next to you. You landed face first in the mud, and tried to get to your feet, slipping, as a kick bowled you over onto your back.

“You’re going to die you little thief!”

The man was barely able to stand as he pointed the gun at your head, but he was so close it wouldn’t matter. You heard footsteps behind you, thumping, running, when suddenly the fat red-faced man was floored with the hardest punch you’d ever seen.

“God dammit.” You heard some muffled swearing above you as the man who’d intervened shook his fist out – that punch must have hurt. Wait, is that….

“Arthur! What the hell you doin’?”

“Just, err, having a discussion with the stable owner about this kid, Lenny.”

“Some discussion Arthur! Come on, we best get out of here, the Sherriff’s already pissed at us after the saloon incident earlier.”

Arthur held out his hand and helped you up. “Kid, I reckon you should come with us. Looks like you need a place to sleep, and one where you won’t wake up with a gun pointed at ya.”

You had no idea what to do. You didn’t know these men, but he had saved you, and he had been kind to you earlier.

“I…thanks Mr Morgan.”

“Come on then, you can ride with me.” Arthur and Lenny turned, walking quickly towards their horses. They turned when they heard your footsteps sprinting off towards the stable.

“Oh for god’s sake…” Arthur groaned, then sighed and shook his head. He was just about to turn back to his horse when he saw you re-emerge carrying your bag. He smiled as you ran towards him, then hoisted you up behind the saddle.

“Hold on tight kid, me and Lenny been havin’ a few at the saloon so this might not be the smoothest ride. And if I start singing, don’t laugh.” You clung to Arthur’s jacket as you cantered out of town, heading south.

—-

A few months later, and you were settling into gang life well. Your first night had been…. interesting to say the least. Arthur had sat you by the fire, leaving the girls to fuss over you, as he went to talk to Hosea and Dutch. Dutch thought the whole situation was hilarious; his stray was now bringing home its own strays. Hosea had been less keen, mostly because he was concerned about dragging another young soul into this life. But, at the end of the day, there had been no real resistance to you staying.

Arthur had immediately taken you under his wing and did his best to teach you how to survive. You’d never shot a bow or gun before, but Arthur took you out to practice with bottles and cans, and even bought you your own varmint rifle so you could go out hunting with him and Charles. Hosea and Karen were big fans of yours; or, more specifically, your skills as a pickpocket while they distracted a mark.

Arthur didn’t like you assisting like this though; him and Dutch frequently argued about it. You constantly asked him to take you on other jobs, but he always said no, always a different excuse. You didn’t really understand why Arthur was so protective; you weren’t his kid. It irritated you, but you probably owed Arthur your life, so most of the time you kept your mouth shut.

You were bored, re-wrapping the handle of your knife by the fire one evening when you overheard Arthur and Javier talking.

“I’ve got a good tip, Arthur. This old man has got a stash of cash hidden in his house, not far from here. We go now, in the dark, we can be in and out without anyone seeing, easy.”

“Sounds good Javier, let’s get goin’.”

“Arthur, I want to go.” You’d barely thought the words before they were out of your mouth.

“Huh. Come on (Y/N), you know that ain’t gonna happen.”

“Please Arthur! It’s not like a bank job or something, it’s sneaking, you know I’m good at that!” you said as you stood up.

“(Y/N), NO. This ain’t good for a kid. I ain’t risking it.” Arthur was more forceful this time and pushed you back down into your seat before walking off towards his tent.

You then did something you hadn’t done since your parents died; appealed to a higher authority. It used to be your mum; now, it was Dutch.

“Dutch, I want to go on the job with Javier and Arthur. Please can I go?”

Dutch chuckled. “Sure child, I’ve been wondering when you’d finally ask to go. Arthur said you felt you weren’t ready.”

Urgh. Arthur. So all that stuff about ‘Dutch says no’ was rubbish then.

“I am ready Dutch, I’ll make you proud.”

“Well you better hurry up then, before they leave!” Grinning, you ran to your tent and grabbed your things, before jogging over to Arthur and Javier.

“Arthur, Dutch says I’m to come.” Arthur sighed, looking over at Dutch, who nodded. He didn’t have the time to argue.

“Fine. Get on the damn horse then”.

The journey didn’t take long, and soon you were hitching the horses in the trees just outside the perimeter of the homestead. The three of you crept into the small barn next to the house.

“(Y/N), you stay in the barn and keep watch. You see anyone movin’, you whistle like Charles taught you. You got that?”

“But Arthur!”

“No buts, I ain’t in the mood. You shouldn’t be here, and I ain’t puttin’ you in harms way. I’ve lost a kid before, I ain’t losing you too.” This surprised you; you hadn’t heard Arthur mention any other kid apart from Jack, you weren’t sure who he meant.

“Javier, you check the other barn, I’ll take the house, we’ll meet back here.” You’d already pushed your luck being here, and you didn’t want to annoy Arthur further, so you reluctantly agreed.

“Fine.” As Arthur and Javier crept towards the house, you climbed the ladder into the small loft in the barn. At least you were away from the camp, and maybe, just maybe, Arthur may let you come on another job if you behaved.

You waited for what felt like ages before you saw Arthur running quietly, keeping low, back towards the barn. From your vantage point in the loft, you didn’t see the man with the shotgun creeping up the side of the barn. Neither did Arthur.

“You thieving bastard.” Arthur had his hands up as the man backed him slowly into the barn.

“Hey, mister, I ain’t thieving, I’m with the Sherriff, he’d heard of some cattle rustlin’ up here and he told me to check it out.” The ease of Arthur’s lie impressed you; he was always treated just as Dutch’s enforcer, but sometimes he sounded more like Hosea.

Panicking, you desperately looked around for anything you could use to help, maybe create a distraction. The homeowner was standing almost directly under the ladder now. Your frantic gaze settled on the small hay bale at the edge of the loft. As quietly as you could you crept over to it, then pushed with all your might.

“Yer a dirty liar mister. I’m going to shoot you right here, and let the Sheriffs deal with ya in the…..”

His sentence was caught short as the haybale slammed into his head, knocking him out. The haybale fell forwards, knocking Arthur onto his back.

“You alright?” you called down to Arthur.

Staying exactly where he’d fallen, Arthur sighed, then groaned a reply.

“Sure. Thank you.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x teen reader #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #my work #request #rdr2 story

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obvidalous · 6 years

Text

Drama king (you reap what you sow)

This one-shot is for my dear and amazingly talented friend, @seokanori , whose pics always inspire me!! I love them so much!!!

She gave me the backstory, and the gorgeous art you’ll find in the text is her work as well. You really should check out her blog, it’s fantastic!

She claims she is a drama queen… so I really wanted to give her the drama king of her darkest dreams. Let’s find out what would have happened if Sara never answered Reyes’ last email…

Warning: angst & injuries under the cut…

Looking for inspiration?

Oh, darling what have I done – The White Buffalo (“All my days have turned to darkness / And I believe my heart has turned to stone”)

Bang Bang – Nancy Sinatra (“He shot me down / I hit the ground / That awful sound / My baby shot me down”)

“Pathfinder? Are you there?”

Sara never heard such tension in the director’s voice, she can feel it even on the phone.

“I hear you, Tann. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He ignores the irony in her tone and sighs before answering.

“Ryder, you need to go to Kadara immediately. We have a… situation. Regarding the Collective.”

“Tann…” She shakes her head with annoyance, even if the salarian cannot see her. “Why don’t you ask Pathfinder Avitus? He’s been in charge of Govorkam system for over a year now.”

“Ryder, don’t you think that I would have asked him, if I could? I didn’t want to mention that on the phone, but… I’m sure you heard about the problems caused by the Collective? The kidnappings, the murders? Well, now they have surrounded Ditaeon. We’ve reached a dead-end. They threaten to attack if we don’t surrender and leave the planet immediately. Pathfinder Avitus had to run away after the last attempt of negotiations, which completely failed. They claimed they would kill him and his crew if they didn’t leave.”

“Then ask another Pathfinder to deal with it, or send Kandros and the whole cavalry. I have nothing to do with that, and I surely don’t want to.”

“I still have hopes to resolve this in a peaceful manner, Ryder. Apparently, the Charlatan refuses to speak to anyone but you. He specifically asked for you.”

“Come on! Don’t tell me that we accept demands from thieves and murderers, now? Tann, I won’t–”

“Ryder, this is an order. Turn back now and go to Kadara immediately. We cannot lose this outpost, so I’m counting on you. Tann, out.”

-----------

She doesn’t want to be here.

She strides through the port, with angry steps that prevent anyone to talk to her. She almost runs to the lift, hurrying her way down to the Slums and out to the Badlands. She knows she’s been followed since the moment she set foot on the ground. But as long as no one talks to her or tries to stop her, she decides to ignore the heavy eyes in her back.

When she crosses the fence, her omnitool rings at an incoming email from an unknown sender. She immediately recognizes the coordinates, and fury gains her. Angry butterflies shake her guts, and she clenches her fists to try to control herself.

At least, she doesn’t need the Nomad guidance system. She knows where she’s going.

And she already knows that it can’t possibly end well.

She enters the dark and silent cave, trying not to remember the last time she came here, and quickly moves toward the cavern further ahead. Nothing has changed. The amplified sound of her footsteps on the rocky ground breaks the silence, just like the day she came here with Sloane. Exception made that this time she’s alone, and painfully aware of who is waiting for her.

She finds him exactly where she assumed he would be. He’s waiting in the shadows, his back leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. She doesn’t spot him immediately; she hears him before she sees him. When she stops into the light, a few feet away from him, he suddenly speaks to her.

“Pathfinder… finally. I was wondering if you’d stop by.”

She cannot believe what she just heard. How many times had he greeted her with this line? How many stunning smiles had he thrown at her while saying the exact same words?

He gotta be kidding me… but alright, shady bastard. We both can play this game.

“Tsk tsk… I had forgotten how dramatic you could be. But your lines are getting a little old. I hope you’re better with a gun than with your mouth… I’d hate to think that you’ve gone soft during this last year, Charlatan.”

He chuckles. The sound sends nervous spikes in her stomach.

“The Pathfinder never loses her wit, does she? But you’re not as clever as you think you are… Otherwise you would never have agreed to come here. Not alone.”

He starts walking in circles around her, with slow, predatory steps. His right hand is lingering on his holster, gently stroking the butt of his gun. His gesture silently states the obvious – he’s threatening her. And his eyes are fixed on her. Dark, cold eyes, that she has never seen.

She doesn’t make a move. He seems disappointed to see her lack of reaction.

“You used to be more careful. I really thought that you’d have brought at least one of your precious companions to protect you. Are you not afraid of what I might do to you?”

“Cut the bullshit. I’m not afraid of you, I’ve never been and I surely won’t start now. What do you want, Reyes?”

“Don’t call me that.” Suddenly, there’s an unspeakable savagery in his tone. He hisses between his twisted lips. “Don’t you dare… calling me by my name.”

“So that’s what this is about? The torture, the killings? The outpost? Some silly revenge?”

He shakes his head. “No. This is not a revenge. And it surely ain’t silly. I did what I had to do to make sure that you’d be here, that you’d have no choice to come in person. I’ve been carefully planning this moment for months, you know. This is my way of saying that you and the Initiative can go the fuck away and leave this planet forever. We don’t want any of you here. Never again. The outpost is not yours anymore. It’s mine.”

She feels electric sparks going through her body. The fear, the anger, the resentment – they’re all too palpable. But she sets the feelings aside – she’s desperately seeking control, however close she is to lose it.

Their eyes are locked on each other. Sara knows that she urgently needs to connect to him, in a way or another. Otherwise she could lose more than just her life.

“Come on, you had me coming all the way down here just to tell me that? Maybe you plan on killing me, just like you killed Sloane, right here?” She points to the ground at her feet, in the middle of the cavern. “Or maybe you’d prefer to remember what we did after that?”

She’s not looking at him anymore. She walks right past him, ignoring the shiver down her spine when she hears him tightening the grip on his weapon. She walks right into the darkness of the cave, further in the quaking silence. She hears him hesitantly following her after a few seconds.

She turns to face him, her back on the wall. She notices that he now holds his gun in his hand.

“It happened right here. That’s where we found a way to make peace, not so long ago, remember? You asked me to come, and here I am. So, let’s discuss this. It’s not too late. Let’s find a way to resolve this peacefully. The Initiative will never leave the outpost, and you know it.”

He victoriously looks at her, with a hint of triumph in his grin that somehow reminds her of a wild beast.

“Funny that you still don’t get it… I brought you here because I wanted you to see. What you’ve done. This is on you, Pathfinder. You’re the only one to blame.”

His hand is steady when he slowly points his gun to her head. “I wanted you to know. The Collective has launched a massive attack on Ditaeon as we speak. I gave specific orders that nobody should come out of it alive. I told my men to kill them all, women and children and every fucking living soul. You have already lost your precious outpost. It’s too late for peace, now.”

His face is twisted with pure evil. He’s exulting at his own cruelty, delighting in the shock on her face.

“Then you’d better kill me too, asshole!”

“No. Oh, dear, no.” He’s mocking her, now. “Don’t rob me of the best part of my plan. I don’t want you dead… I want you to suffer. You’re gonna live with that on your conscience for the rest of your life. I know that this is gonna kill you. It’s gonna eat your soul, bit by bit.”

He smiles ferociously. Sara has no time to think; she raises her arms, blue electricity crackling all around her in a furious wave inflaming the air around. For an instant, she cannot help it, and she yells in frustration and anger, wrapped in a bubble of blue energy that she desperately tries to repress.

“I will kill you, Reyes!”, she growls with a barely contained rage. She cannot hold it anymore – a ray of energy runs across the room and hits the wall behind Reyes, missing his head by a few inches.

She sees it, then. She catches a short glimpse of hate and despair in his gaze. And fear, too. Time seems to stop for a mere second, stretching in the tense space between them, twisted by the confrontation of their hateful eyes. She sees it, right before it’s too late.

Nevertheless – when he shoots her, the sound tears her ears. It tears her heart.

She cannot believe it. She falls on her knees, then collapses on the ground when her legs give up under her. She lowers her gaze to her right arm, in shock, incredulously looking at the bloody hole that appeared beneath her shoulder. She feels no pain. The crimson bloom is growing fast, and yet she still doesn’t feel a thing. Only the aftermath of a predictable outcome.

“You… you shot me!” She’s panting.

“I warned you.” He smirks. “Don’t you ever say my name again. I should have killed you.”

“Fuck you, Reyes! I was trying not to hurt you, you fucking idiot! As stupid as it sounds, I don’t want to hurt you!”

He hesitates when he hears her words. During a tiny, evanescent moment, she catches on his face a brief peek of who he used to be, of the man she once knew. She sees all of it: hidden secrets and unspoken fears, secret hopes and feared realities. All the things he buried inside, for no one else to see.

It’s like a geyser of tormented feelings flooding over her, a soul bleeding its regrets like pouring rain.

The terrifying darkness leaves her breathless for half a second.

But it all disappears in an instant, vanishing into thin air. His eyes are now closed to her. And she knows it is forever so.

She knows she witnessed the last and frail remains of his humanity. She saw him closing the door, and she has no doubt that he will never open it again, not to her, not to anyone. She suffers for him, for the man that she once thought she could love. And that is now gone.

It’s all her fault. She can see it now. There’s nothing more she could say or do. No looking back.

So much for bonding times… she thinks with bitterness.

“I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done.” Her throat is sore, and she swallows hard.

He doesn’t answer, so she gets up, leaving a bloody stain on the ground where she once kissed him. She sighs.

“I guess this is a farewell, then.” Her voice echoes softly on the walls of the cave. She makes a step toward him, but he raises his gun again.

“Go. Now. Before I change my mind and shoot you for good.”

“You know that we will see each other again, right? ... I won’t hesitate, then.”

“Neither will I.”

She turns away without a glance back, holding her bloody arm. But she still feels no pain. Only an excruciating regret.

As soon as she’s out of the cave, she jumps in the Nomad and calls the Tempest.

“Cora, call Tann immediately. Tell him… we’re at war.”

#me:a #mass effect #reyes vidal #sara ryder #f!reyder #mass effect andromeda #my writing #oneshot #seokanori

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whoop-whoop-grocket-blog · 7 years

Text

So I'm watching GOTG Vol 2 again

Here's some nice commentary:

When Groot turns on the speakers, the circle things move, that music must be really loud

Groot does a little monster dance move, it's so cute

ALRIGHT BUT HOW DOES ROCKET CARRY SUCH A BIG GUN???

There's a little voice crack that Gamora makes when she says "than the bounty that's due for her on XANdar"

Ayesha talks with a lottt of mouth movement

Rocket in a nutshell: wINK WONK

The Milano is so messy yikes™

Peter literally changes in front of Nebula and Gamora and nobody mentions that

Drax is a confirmed expert sneaker, he just shows up

Okay but the way Dave says "one might assume she was dead" gives me chills

Gamora's hair is sooo much better in this movie than the last one

"dUDE"

Groot plays with Rocket's seatbelt, so cute

Man, I wish I could pilot a spaceship by playing in an arcade

THE BATTREES

Okay but the violins playing up and down when they go into the asteroid field is amazing

YO QUILL, ROCKET WAS DOING A PRETTY GOOD JOB PILOTING THE MILANO EXCUSE YOU

Dave's Drax laugh is the besstttt

Peter grabs Groot like "nu-uh I ain't dealing with this shit"

Groot squirms in Drax's hand, he's such an angry smol child, just like his father

The spacesuit animation is so cool

Groot was like grabbing onto Gamora's hair

The face the golden dude makes after everybody says he sucks is so relatable

HOLY CRAP A GIANT EGG IS FLYING IN SPACE

Rip to all of that stuff that flew out of the Milano and got scattered everywhere

Groot eating candy is me

Getting yelled at by Gamora is like your mother yelling at you because you didn't wash the dishes

Groot sits on the ledge of the ship and stares at the wonderful forest while everybody is arguing

Peter's face when Rocket tries to bite him is me when someone has a scary doggo

IT'S THE GIANT EGG AGAIN

LEGGO MY EGGO, IT'S THE BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG EVER TO EXIST

hoWARRDDD

yoNDUUUUUUUUU

Okay but the CGI for Martinex is the coolest thing ever

Shut your nasty face, scrotumhat

Tag yourself, I'm the girl that can't get the carpet to work

Shut up, egg man

DON'T CALL MY TRASH SON A MONKEY, WAFFLE EGG

Mantis is me trying to talk to people

Rocket grooming himself is the best thing

thAT WAS NOT A JOKE DRAX, MY TRASH SON GOT BAD PTSD HE DON'T NEED YOUR JOKES

"I know how you feel" Yeah, listen to her Peter, she got a murdering Titan about to smack yo asses in may

Gamora let's go of Peter's hands and she tries to cover it by being tough GAMORA SWEETIE WE KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT HIM CONFESSSS

*cries because Rocket pushes away his friends*

I can't believe he's had that picture of David Hasselhoff since forever

Drax's eyes are beautiful, love that shade of blue

"They are not for feeling dOORWAYS"

Mantis' makeup is so prettyyy

There's 4 moons, that's a lot of moons

Bradley Cooper humming to Southern Nights yassss

It's so cute how generally worried Groot is about Rocket

Rocket's laugh when he shoots people in the air is so cute, he loves to kill people

Rocket chuckles before putting the electric thingys on the Ravagers

OKAY BUT THE CGI ON ROCKET IS AMAZINGGGG, GOOD JOB TEAM

GROOT'S ABOUT TO CRY BECAUSE HIS DAD IS IN TROUBLE UGGGHHHH MY HEART

"Give me a word you won't hurt Groot, and I'll tell you where the batteries are" OHHH MY HEARTTTTTT HE'S SO PROTECTIVE ACKACK

Kraglin, I love you to death, but WHYD YOU HAVE TO SPEAK UP MY GUY

You can see Rocket's body twitch a bit after he got shot by Nebula

"It's not ripe" Damn straight lad

DAMMNNNN THESE VISUAL EFFECTS FOR EGO'S PLANET IS THE BEST THING EVER TO COME OUT FROM A MARVEL FILM

"Welcome to my world!" Aka, "look at this beautiful blue screen"

Drax's laugh when he pops the bubble is so pure

It's so weird how Ego has these eggs just for the only purpose to tell his backstory

Okay but this CGI for all of Ego's history is so cool, kudos to the animation team

Tag yourself, I'm drax, just randomly ask if someone has a penis

The face Gamora makes when Ego says "it's not that bad", she's like "that means Peter's probably got a nice one too" ;)

egO YOU LEFT HER YOU BITTCHHH FUCK YOU

"If you loved her whyd you leave her" OOF

DON'T SCARE MY TINY TREE SON YOU RAVAGER BASTARD MOTHERFUCKER

It's so sad to see the Ravagers kill each other, they were all such good friends and having fun with each other at the end of the first movie ;-;

DON'T HURT BLUE SPACE DAD, SHOOTER MCFUCKFACE

Tag yourself, I'm rocket when he's all tied up and making fun of people

OKAY BUT WHEN ROCKET KICKS HIS FEET UP AND DOWN WHEN HE LAUGHS IS SO CUTE

ALSO GROOT'S LAUGH IS CUTE

Ewwww there's saliva on taserface's beard

Aw Kraglin's concern for Yondu

"What are you gonna do with your share?" *proceeds to tell backstory instead*

Karen Gillan slays in this movie

Tag yourself, I'm kraglin when he makes the face of sheer terror after what Nebula's gonna do with her share

"She had brain cancer so everyone thought she was delusional" ;-;

FUCK OFFFFF EGGO

The emotions that Chris Pratt puts in when he says "I HAD TO WATCH HER DIE" is so good. Great acting 10/10

You think this old man is a good father, BUT NOOOPPPE HE'S AN ASS

Alright, I'll continue my commentary on another post

#guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy vol 2 #gotg #gotgvol2 #peter quill #starlord #gamora #drax the destroyer #rocket raccoon #groot #baby groot #mantis #nebula #yondu udonta #ego the living planet #kraglin obfonteri

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sanguinarysanguinity · 7 years

Note

1-15 (as many or few as you like, or as best fit the work(s)) for Persistence of Memory; Desperate Men and Fools; Strange Angels

(Questions; answers for Persistence of Memory; answers for Strange Angels.)

“Desperate Men and Fools” follows!

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I talked about that a bit in the announcement post on DW/LJ, but I’ll add that @gardnerhill‘s talents are wildly different from my own: my initial attempts to mimic Mayor Strade’s storytelling style were… well. Let’s just say I can’t do what she does, and leave it at that.

3. What’s your favorite line of narration?

Lock pushed up the lantern’s chimney and lit a cigarette from the flame. For a few moments his face was clearly lit, his eyes slitted narrow against the light. Then he set the lantern aside and turned the wick down, extinguishing it. All I could see was the glow of his cigarette’s coal, and the stars beyond him.

Doc’s heart is breaking right there, and damn him if he’ll say it. When I wrote it, I didn’t explicitly put together that Doc was fixing in his mind what was like to be his last image of Lock, but that’s what he’s doing: looking while he can still look, and then the light goes out and there’s just a hole in the stars where Lock ought to be.

And that, he thinks, is the last he’ll ever see of him.

I shut my eyes, against him and the stars both, and hoped he’d have the civility to ride out before I woke.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“I have never met a man with a gift for being silent as loudly as you, Doc.”

Which is, of course, playing with the famous line from “The Twisted Lip”:

“You have a grand gift of silence, Watson,” said he. “It makes you quite invaluable as a companion.”

5. What part was hardest to write?

omfg, the scene just after Doc and Lock recover their horses, when they’re supposedly talking out what happened with Dumont. Those two laconic bastards never talk, not like they mean it, so trying to get their issues out on the page for the reader… UGH. I thought I was gonna have to beat them both over the head with a tree limb to get either of them to say the thing.

6. What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s a capital-W Western, which is a genre which I normally give wide berth. I talked about that a little bit in the DW/LJ announcement post.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Louis Riel and the Red River Uprising, of course, which is the backstory for Strange Empire. The surveyor getting killed was an invention of the show, but everything else in “Desperate Men and Fools” about the Uprising is reasonably accurate, at least in broad strokes. Further, most of the details about the Metis and the Red River Colony are historical, at least as I best understood them. Other random bits are factual, too, like the lynchings during the New York City draft riots, and the mayhem of the Nevada silver boom.

That said, there are details I fudged. I don’t have any concrete evidence for putting that particular card game in Red River, the one with the stripped down deck and extra jokers (although there were French card games that used that deck, and there was a ton of French influence in Red River). Also, there was a point where I got fed up with trying to sort out the on-again/off-again steamboat situation on the Red River. Also, anyone who makes a strict accounting of the dates might discover July-through-September has a few more weeks than those three months usually have. (I blame the steamboats that were probably not running that year.)

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

The first draft had a different ending, jumping ahead to Bakerstown in 1885, the year of the Northwest Uprising / Second Riel Rebellion.

The original ending, starting just after finding Dumont’s bounty poster:

“Reckon there’s enough good left in the world to stop what’s coming to Red River?” I asked him later. It seemed that over the past year maybe Lock and I had become the same kind of fool Dumont was. Ever since she let us walk away that day, I’d been noticing the little bits of good still left in the world, and the people trying to grow them. Lock and I weren’t farmers, but sometimes we stepped in and tried to stop someone else from killing a thing. Sometimes we succeeded, but most times we couldn’t offer much more than vengeance.

Lock shook his head slow, turning the question over. “I reckon there never was enough good in the world to stop that.”

And maybe Lock was right – or maybe all the good in the world was looking the other way – but the army did finally come to Red River, and the surveyors got their stakes and string into the place proper after all. By the time they were done, a lot of those Métis lost their farms. I heard later a bunch of them settled up along the Batoche River, up in Saskatchewan. Maybe they thought that was far enough west to be safe from Ottawa’s surveyors, but then in 1885 it all happened again, this time with a lot more shooting. Some hangings, too, there at the end.

By then, Lock and I had washed up in a little Texas cow-town, where Lock was wearing a tin star, and I was taking the time to patch people up after I finished shooting ‘em. We still weren’t farmers, but Lock figured that he and that mayor there might make a place where other people could grow some good things if they cared to. I didn’t see much point in it, but didn’t mind letting him try.

“Think Dumont and her auntie got caught up in it?” I asked Lock, when I heard what had happened up in Batoche. I didn’t want to mention that baby, although it had to have been full-grown fighting age by then. I hoped its mother had taught it to shoot as well as she did.

“No telling,” Lock said. I knew he still had Dumont’s bounty poster, hid somewheres people couldn’t see it and get bright ideas about easy money. Whether he kept it hid for her sake or theirs, I couldn’t say, but I knew he still had it. Lock shook his head, looking like the world pained him sore, and I couldn’t say I disagreed. “Ain’t no telling at all.”

However, Saskatchewan isn’t Doc’s story to tell, and everyone who read that draft agreed. So that all went away, and I eventually settled on the ending it has now.

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

For the scene in Red River, I recommend Metis fiddling.

For the Doc and Lock scenes, “Arms of My Love” was usually running around my brain, but Jay Ungar is much closer to Lock’s sound, especially some of that haunting fiddle-work. (Fiddler’s Elbow, Ashokan Farewell, Blue River Waltz, Prairie Waltz, Lover’s Waltz) I expect Southern Soldier Boy might make an appearance if Lock is in a particularly sentimental mood.

However, while “Red River Valley” is (probably) period and topical, it is not on the playlist. From Wikipedia:

Edith Fowke offers anecdotal evidence that the song was known in at least five Canadian provinces before 1896. This finding led to speculation that the song was composed at the time of the 1870 Wolseley Expedition to Manitoba’s northern Red River Valley. It expresses the sorrow of a local woman (possibly a Métis) as her soldier lover prepares to return to the east.

Just… no.

15. What did you learn from writing this fic?

The Red River flows north. I checked that three times, then looked at some terrain maps, before deciding it was probably true.

Because of @bowiecadmium‘s generosity and diligence, I also learned: Horses are asses. Horses don’t travel faster than humans over long distances; they just carry more. Horses see better than humans in the dark. A dappled gray would have been super-distinctive in that decade and place, and thus shit for any kind of undercover work. Museum photos of Metis saddles typically show them stripped of all their hardware, which is not how they would have looked in actual use. Breaking trail on horseback is exactly as much of a pain-in-the-ass as breaking trail on foot. When camping with horses, you can hear the horses doing horse-things; if you like horses, you might even have warm feelings about that. One can turn a horse without using the reins, but one wouldn’t call that ‘kneeing’ a horse. Doc’s lack of emotional attachment to Betsy is likely an artifact of his war service, during which he probably had a disturbing number of horses die under him, and/or had to eat his.

And a horse fact that I picked up on my own after @bowiecadmium’s beta pass, so I might have fucked it up: roan horses sometimes have corn marks.

#amindamazed #my writing #desperate men and fools #long post

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gyromitra-esculenta · 7 years

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Days of Our Superhero Lives

Marvel style Telenovela again? R76valentines Gift. This one actually has a hint of story, I think? And a bit of hinting at backstory and angst? Waifu agrees that I do overthink and over-plan the things I write?

This Is Not

The first package just arrives – no one is sure how – at the base in Gibraltar and sits leisurely on the table in the common area, just by the arcade machines. It is cardboard brown, flat and square. Tracer finds it.

What she digs out from the packing paper is flowy, has curves and, very obviously, too little cloth went into making it. As soon as she tries to find where the thing has its up and down, another her pops into existence and squeals.

“I remember this!” Tracer announces and starts whispering into other Lena’s ear.

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

Then the Wonder Boy accosts them and snags it. He mutters about needing something like this and disappears with haste. Half an hour later there is a bloodcurdling scream of terror and Jack runs into the common room almost tripping on the carpet.

“Keep this shit to your own fucking bedroom!”

Four Tracers exchange knowing looks.

“Listen, girls, it gets only better,” one of them adds in a stage whisper. Jack freezes and eyes them with distrust clear on his face.

The second package arrives via a ship and a very stressed looking tentacle thing. Jack groans when he is handed (tentacled?) a pad to sign off on the delivery because it refuses to let Lena do just that.

“What the fuck is this, some galactic UPS?” He comments while judging the package.

“Actually, it says right on the side,” Tracer points to the wriggling symbols. “Pan-Dimensional Universal Deliveries.”

“How can you read that?” Jack stares at her as the ship zips off into a portal.

“Easy, Jackie-boy. I have ten years on you,” Lena multiplies and directs herself to grab the box and bring it inside. “I can’t wait to see what’s in it,” she giggles, giving him a decidedly pointed look. Jack can feel the growing dread settling gently in his stomach.

But, to his relief, there is a see-through container inside with something that looks like a cake unicorn barfed on and a note in the wriggly script attached. Tracer snatches it, her eyes go big, and she hastily turns singular, except for Lena that just happens to enter the room with Emily.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing! Looking good, Em,” future Tracer changes the subject quickly. The cake is perfect anyway, they all decide after a slice (even Ana and Angela), and Jack can’t be bothered with thinking who sent it – even if he does have an inkling that borders on certainty.

But the container is resting on something in the box and he picks up that thing. At the initial inspection, it looks like several scraps of fabric thrown haphazardly together. Gabriel almost chokes on his tea.

“What the fuck? It was yours?”

“What?” Jack looks at the thing again and then drops it like it burns when the realization dawns on him. “No! Shit! No! Never seen it before! Someone sent it!”

“But it was addressed to you, Jackie-boy,” future Tracer gleefully points out.

“And the fit was perfect,” Wonder Boy adds with a big self-satisfied grin on his fucking face while snuggling closer to Gabriel. God, Jack groans, he was seriously an asshole at that age. “Someone has a secret admirer, old fart. What?” The blonde rolls his eyes when Gabriel elbows him. “I’m stating the obvious.”

“You can eat the rest of it,” Jack decides that he has had enough and goes out for a smoke. It is one thing, being stalked by a villain from another dimension, but have him send something like that… that he remembers the Wonder Boy in…

“Hey,” future Lena joins him and pats his shoulder reassuringly. “It ain’t all that bad, you know, Jackie-boy?”

“He’s going to break my heart all over again, isn’t he?” He doesn’t look at her and throws the cigarette down, then stomps on it.

“You know I can’t talk about that. Besides, Jackie-boy, you blink, and the future is different,” somehow she looks tired. “But how bad could it really be?” Jack is about to answer her that yes, it could be very fucking bad, but Meka Girl leans out of the window above them.

“Abeoji? The lingerie, do they make it for girls too?” Jack decides that he desperately needs a drink.

The third package is the first one that looks like a proper gift – dark wrapping paper, silver bow and a little handwritten note. What is unnerving is the fact that it waits for him on his own bed. Jack picks up the note, thankfully written in English, not that other crawling nonsense. ‘Noticed you would need a new one.’

Right. If it’s the ‘sexy lingerie’ again, the next time he sees Reaper he’s going to force the damn thing down his fucking throat.

But to his surprise, Jack unwraps a jacket, crisp and new, almost identical to the one he usually wears as a part of his costume. The leather is softer, there are few changes to the measurements, and, all in all, it is comfortable. More importantly, it does not need to be stitched together again like the one resting on the chair by the window.

It is a thoughtful gift and Jack smiles for a moment.

A month down the line comes the usual revelation that Talon triple-crossed everybody, even themselves, and Reaper turns into a tentative ally for the time being. Jack can’t understand why would anyone collaborate with Talon, they do that every time. Every. Fucking. Time.

“Hail Talon!” The goon jumps at them but Reaper just swats him away.

“I swear, it’s like they get stupider,” the villain sighs annoyed.

“You could have spent five minutes reading their Omnipedia page,” Jack rolls his eyes behind the mask. “They have a big banner you can’t delete that literally says ‘Advice to budding villains: don’t ally with Talon, they will turn on you’.”

“Darling, it isn’t the first time they’ve tried it. They just get infinitely worse at it each time.” Jack stops dumbstruck in his tracks.

“How do they get worse at it, they have your gate generators?”

“I don’t need them.” Reaper shrugs. “And just about now the problem should solve itself.” Right on cue, the explosion shakes the ground and flattens Talon base in an outstanding show of fireworks that changes the evening sky into a blaze of multicolored swaths. “Now, darling, what about a kiss?”

“You planned it,” Jack points an accusatory finger at Reaper just as Meka passes them by laughing manically with Frog clinging to the top of the pink mech blasting victory music, all while chasing some poor Talon footsoldiers running for their lives.

“Might have.” He doesn’t have to imagine the damn smirk hiding behind that ugly mask because Reaper takes it off and leans closer.

“No. You are impossible!” Jack tries to push him away but somehow his palms just happen to linger on the other man’s chest and he does not step back when taloned fingers release the latch of his mask. “Seriously, this is little too much.”

“Hush, darling, I’m courting you,” Reaper bites lightly on his ear.

“You don’t announce you’re courting someone, and this,” Jack whimpers because it feels like electricity shooting all the way down his spine, “this is not courting, this is molesting and stalking.”

“You can tell me to stop anytime you want, darling,” Jack bites on his lip when hands move over his back.

“And you will stop?”

“Of course,” Reaper sounds a little put off by the suggestion but then a lick of satisfaction creeps into his voice. Smug bastard. “You’re wearing it.”

“It’s nice,” Jack admits with a bit of reluctance. “In comparison to that other thing,” he adds, moving his head to the side, just so it feels natural for Reaper to kiss him here and now. It’s warm, sweet and a little scratchy. Comfortable. Until he notices where one hand on his back traveled in the meantime and, on top of it all, squeezed. “What the…?”

Reaper smirks at him and disappears before Jack can tell him what does he exactly think about that particular stunt, so he just turns on his heel and comes face to face with Gabriel.

Gabriel that wears an interesting expression – a mix of bewilderment, disgust and something else Jack definitely won’t dwell on.

“Did he… cop a feel?”

“Oh, great, now you know how I feel about every fucking day,” Jack glances at the Wonder Boy, wearing that fucking blue coat of his, as he tries to shy away from Angela when she attempts to swab at the cut on his cheek. Goddammit, he was such a little shit dweeb at that age.

“Fair point,” Gabriel looks even more uncomfortable now, maybe even guilty, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Listen…”

“This isn’t a good time, Gabe,” Jack steps past him, shouldering his rifle.

“And when will be a good time?”

“Probably never.” Gabriel wants to add something but resigns. “Go take care of the drama queen.”

When he gets back (on his own) to the Gibraltar base, there is a single flower resting on his bed. Jack sighs and picks it up. It smells deep, like the night, and he can see the sparkling rainbow in the sky when he closes his eyes.

“Seriously, I’m not a woman.”

“I know, darling,” Reaper materializes behind him, hands sneaking around him and fingers lacing on his stomach, ”but you are my mate and I’m courting you.”

“So, no courting, no gifts?”

“You are deserving of gifts no matter what,” Reaper whispers against his neck and Jack can tell the traitorous blush crawls up his face, “and I’m going to make up for all of those you never got but should have.”

“It’s not…” Jack is at a loss what to say because what can you tell a fucking villain that seems to be obsessed with you, not that he is complaining too much, but still, it is kind of unsettling, even if nice. “Stay the night,” Jack swears that with the way his cheeks and neck burn he must be positively red. “I mean, just sleep.”

“I know, darling,” he feels the smile against his shoulder. This whole thing might not be as bad as it seems.

#sometimes i write #r76valentines #r76 #reaper76 #superhero!au #what is this even #i'm still having fuuuuuuun #day2

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erunerwynter · 7 years

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About my ocs bc translating my fics apparently has this effect to me

Warning: stupid shit

Kevin - half orc wizard - tried so hard and got so far - grew in a human settlement so that’s why he has a human name - his mother didn’t hate him, which is a good thing - wants to make his mama proud by becoming the best wizard that ever existed - also bc people in his village first and the other students at the Arcanum (the magic academy of the world where all of this is setted in, Gaia) later treated him like shit bc an half-orc wizard? u gotta be kiddin - that why he a Angry SJW™ - gay af but who has time for relationship i goTTA STUDY - he tol - spiky fangs but i love him regardless - my actual son - v paranoid about his spellbook bc at the academy of magic stupid students burned his first spellbook so there’s that - my precious boi pls love him - has an halfling boyfriend, Andrej - a cat person - has a raven familiar bc Aesthetic™ - loves the smell of ink - would have supported Anders in his decision to blow up the Chantry

(putting the rest of them under a read more bc it’s gonna be long)

Andrej - halfling fighter - has a giant wolf named Zero, that often uses as a mount - he smol, he mysteryous - born in a tribe of nomad halflings, where he learned to fight - but then he fucked up big time and was kicked out - worked as a mercenary for a while - one day he found Zero, that was still a pupper, and adopted him - Zero is basically his best and only friend - “doggos are better then people” - has a sister that studies at the Arcanum, she’s a really good wizard - one day he visits her and meets Kevin, his future boyfriend - fights with a rapier bc Aesthetic™ - has a tattoo somewhere - “i will punch you in the dick Kevin” - embodiment of “id sell you to Satan for one corn chip” - he may look like a tough guy but he just needs to be loved - loves being the little spoon - he also gay af

Hòdur - drow alchemist - adopted by a human witch, raised in, like. the islands with the most xenophobic elves of the entire world and still managed to survive - has a stepbrother, an half-elf named Taro, and i will talk abt him later - talk shit abt Taro and he will poison u - “i dont trust all that stupid magic shit” “excuse me r u aware that ur mother is a literal witch” - rlly he just doesn’t have talent for magic so he just. decided that magic is stupid and turned to alchemy - he a Man Of Science™ - “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” - Heterosexual Token™ - worries too much - is willing to Fuck Shit Up - hates loud noises - “why cant you all just leave me aLONE”

Taro - half-elf bard - apparently living embodiment of elves’ perfection - actually a little shit - talk shit abt Hòdur and he will kick u in the teeth - has nicknames for everyone - loves 2 embarass his big bro (bc Hòdur is the big bro) - 5 centimeters (more or less 2 inches for u englishpersons) taller than Hòdur, always reminds that to him - (this annoys Hòdur to no end) - (and that’s why Taro does it) - “so Kevin how do you and Lem do that” “FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS TARO SHUT THE FUCK UP” (that was Hòdur) - sexuality what is that - had a thing with the blacksmith’s son - the bastard has a really smooth voice - would wear the t-shirt that has “Sin” written on it (you know the one) - i love him holy shit

Robin - tiefling maga (the class name is actually magus but Robin is a she so) with the skirnir archetype (the base class equivalent of the prestige class of the Eldricht Knight, but with the archetype that makes her a shield mage basically) - Angst™ - wants to do the right thing and she will do it - her favourite Overwatch character would be Pharah or Reinhardt - she has a shield and she’s not afraid to use it - always stressed af does she even sleep - always hears the voices of her devilish inheritance - praying conforts her a little tho - a very religious person - well she was raised by a priestess of the god of love and compassion, so - yea she was abandoned as a child bc her parents were nobles and you can’t have a tiefling daughter that would be A Bad Thing - so a priestess adopted her and teched her how to be a rlly good person and to protect the innocent - “I BELIEVE IN U o wait did u just killed an innocent now im gonna Fuck You Up™” - “a sex drive what is that where is sex driving does it have a license”

Ume

- sea elf shaman (hybrid class between the witch and the oracle) - like,, indecision but as a person - has an hawk as a familiar wihich is pretty strange bc she is really tied with the spirits of the sea - looks like a cinnamom roll is actually a cinnamom roll - “do you prefer red or blue” “I LOVE BOTH OF THEM U CAN’T MAKE ME CHOOSE” - the kind of fangirl who has way too many ships - likes swimming - except for that one time when she almost drowned she didn’t like swimming in that moment - Moana vibes - yeah u know moana was so good and im so weak that’s why she lives in an island and talks to the sea sometimes - there was that one time when she flirted back at Ikaro and he almost died for the surprise - she was, like, the Best Shaman Apprentice on the island but she wasn’t really sure wheter become shaman or not bc if she accepted her role she wouldn’t be able to see the world - but at the same time she loves her island and her people so - yeah she kinda gets homesick a lot - but she got to see the Arcanum and the big cities and the Moon Mountains and the Ramil Desert so there’s that - her hawk is cute, she screm - witch shaped like a friend

Ikaro

- the Human Token™, a gunslinger - dat boi - son of a gun - jesse mccree but as a pirate - birate - lovechild of Han Solo and Jesse McCree - “im not a pirate im a buccaneer” - the fuckboiest fuckoi that ever fuckboied - tried to flirt with Ume and got a “stop embarassing yourself!” from Taro - “the loser had it coming” –cit. @eldrich-archivist - has seen some shit - stole some of that - and murdered some other - he doesn’t regret killing people, but that doesn’t mean he likes doing so - “i’m not good, i’m not bad, but i sure as hell ain’t ugly” - travelled on a pirate ship for many years - he feels like he is searching for something, in the vast seas of Gaea, but even he doesn’t know what, or who - has a Dark Past™, that’s why he’s on the run - not the captain on the ship he’s on - just one of the many men on board - (his captain is a very badass aasimar lady maybe i’ll give a backstory to her later) - sinnamom roll - flirted with Kevin and Lem almost stabbed him - then flirted with Lem and Kevin almost killed him with a lightning - also likes flirting with death - kinky af, probably into bondage - lowkey a furry

And finally, my favourite

Allegra

- dwarf sorceress/bard but a dancer - she’s mute, so she casts spell while dancing - travelled with a travelling circus - ran away from her home in the Underworld bc she’s transgender and feared that her father wouldn’t understand - her powers come from the storm (stormborn bloodline) - Taro’s nickname for her is “Lady Thunderdwarf” - Taro is also a very good friend of her, he sings for her and she dances - sometimes when she dances she summons the rain unconsciusly - her name means “happy” or “cheerful” in Italian - cinnamom roll, too good for this world, too pure - hates little and close spaces - has a birthmark that is suspiciously similar to the holy symbol of the god of the wind but?? maybe it’s a coincidence??? maybe not??? who knows - at first she can only talk with Kevin bc he’s the only one in their “party” that knows sign language but then they teach it to everyone - she and Kevin are really great friends bc they both know how it feels to be an outcast - didn’t believe in love at first sight until she met Zero - “ALLEGRA STOP THROWING MAGIC AT MY DOG HE’S BITING THIN AIR YOU’LL MAKE HIM FEEL SAD” - never came out to her dwarven family, and she regrets that a little - but she’s still scared, so she doesn’t write to them - she has two brother (one older and the other younger; the former has died) and a younger sister; her mother died when she was little so she doesn’t remember much - she doesn’t know, but her father cares deeply about her, even if he still thinks of her as a “him” - family is very important to dwarves, and she feels that Ume and Kevin and the other are like a family to her now - before she met Taro, when she was still travelling with the circus, she danced on the music of Kakeru, a young bard from the Eastern continent that is the Kukize that is very good at playing the shamisen and teached her how to read his native language and told her the myths and the legends of his land. she teached him the sign language and how to read dwarven runes - she can forge things bc that’s a thing that every dwarf learns, but she is no master of that art - i love her so much asklabaksdsksfgagsds

#long post #abt my ocs #about gaia

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