#western crosshair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viva-la-whump · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 9

@febuwhump

Finally a longer one! Yay!!!

LIGHTNING STRIKE

It was like the sky had sucked up all of the water on Earth and now was dumping it straight down on top of them. It wasn’t safe to stay on the road anymore as it ran too close to the swelling river, and Hunter knew the risk of flash flooding was high.

Hunter was about to call for them to start moving off the road when there was a blinding flash and a cacophonous boom that was louder than standing next to a racing train. Their horses spooked at the sudden lightning strike that hit a nearby tree and they struggled to keep them under control. But Tech lost his fight and was thrown from his horse, landing on the muddy ground with an “Oof!”

Using his nearly unnaturally fast reflexes, Crosshair reached out and grabbed Tech’s horse before it could bolt into the wilderness. But when he turned to ride back to his cousin, he saw a sight that made his stomach drop.

The bank of the river started to give way, the water rising to swallow the road, the lightning-struck tree, and, with a cry of fear and alarm, Tech.

“No!” Crosshair yelled as he started to move forward despite the unstable ground.

“Cross! Wait!” Hunter called after him, but he was still wrestling with his own horse and couldn’t stop him as he leapt onto the tree that had fallen into the expanding river, some of its roots still holding fast in the ground.

Through the rain, Hunter now saw that Tech had caught on to one of its branches and was holding on for dear life as the raging waters tried to pull him under. Crosshair lay down flat on the tree, hugging it as he crept towards Tech.

“Wrecker! Rope!” Hunter ordered, and the big man took a coil of rope from his saddle and, holding onto one end, threw the rest of it to his oldest cousin. Crosshair quickly snatched the rope when it landed nearly on top of him and he twisted it around his arm. With the other, he reached towards Tech. Tech tried to reach up to him, but he couldn’t do that and hang on to the branch as well, and the rope wasn’t long enough for Crosshair to reach him.

“Give me more slack!” Crosshair yelled and Wrecker inched his horse forward, getting perilously close to the edge of the water. But it still wasn’t enough. He was still too far away. So Crosshair decided to close that gap himself.

“Hang on tight!” he called to Wrecker, who had already tied off his end to the pommel, before launching himself off the tree and towards his cousin.

Crosshair caught hold of Tech’s arm just as his grip on the branch failed and the current pulled both of them down river, disappearing under the water.

“Whoa!” Wrecker yelled as his horse faltered a few steps as the line suddenly went taut, before planting her front legs to keep them steady. “Good girl,” he soothed, dismounting so she didn’t have to work so hard to support him and anchor the other two. “Now come on. There you go…” He started to ease the horse back, reeling in his cousins.

Hunter got off his horse as well, standing close to the river bank, prepared to pull the two men up onto solid ground. He didn’t have to wait long.

Two heads broke the surface of the swift water, both, Hunter was relieved to see, gasping for air. But as the two of them got clear of the water, Hunter noticed that while Tech coughed and shakily got to his feet, leaning on Wrecker for support, Crosshair stayed on the ground, his face twisted with pain and his breath hissing through clenched teeth.

“Cross!” Hunter knelt down next to him, hands hovering over him, unsure of what was wrong.

“My arm,” Crosshair ground out, and Hunter saw then that his arm, rope still wrapped around it, was still extended above his head, his shoulder resting at an unnatural angle.

“It’s dislocated.” Hunter looked up to see Tech hobbling forward, Wrecker right beside him with a hand under his elbow to catch him if he fell. “We need to put it back in its socket.”

“But, won’t that hurt?” Wrecker asked, his face growing a shade paler.

“Very much so,” Tech replied matter-of-factly, kneeling down on Crosshair’s other side. “But we need to do it now or there will be permanent damage to his shoulder.”

Crosshair gave a strained growl. “Just get on with it!” His right arm moved towards Hunter and he grabbed it with one of his own, squeezing just as hard as Cross was squeezing his, lending comfort and strength to his cousin. Tech wasted no more time and took Crossshair’s arm in his hands and, with both strength and confidence, angled and pulled it in such a way that it popped back into place.

The scream that tore from Crosshair roared louder than even the raging river beside them. He squeezed Hunter’s hand so hard that he feared the older man would break some of his bones. But still he held on, squeezing right back. Crosshair held his newly-relocated arm to his chest, cradling it there as his screams turned to shuddering gasps.

“We need to get away from this river,” Hunter said softly, resting his hand that wasn’t still trapped in Crosshair’s grip onto the man’s knee. “Do you think you can ride?”

Crosshair lay there for another few moments, seeming to gather whatever strength he still had. Finally, he nodded his head. Using his grip on Hunter’s hand, he worked to lever himself up to a seated position, hissing as the movement jostled his shoulder. He swayed slightly, but Hunter wrapped his free arm around Crosshair’s back and pulled his uninjured arm across his shoulders.

“We’ll stand on three, alright?” he asked, and again Crosshair nodded.

“One…two…three.”

Crosshair choked back a sob as Hunter all but lifted him to his feet and supported him not to his own horse, but to Hunter’s. Between him and Wrecker, they were able to get him up into the saddle with as little jostling as possible, which still didn’t stop more pained sounds escaping Crosshair’s gritted teeth. Hunter mounted up behind him.

“Wrecker, Tech,” he ordered. “Take Cross’ horse and ride ahead until you find the nearest town. It should only be a few miles out. Get us a room and make sure there’s a doctor waiting. We’ll follow behind at a slower pace.”

“Just don’t go taking any more dips into the river,” Wrecker quipped as he and Tech rode off, and Crosshair allowed his tense features to melt into a familiar wry eye roll.

7 notes · View notes

moonstrider9904 · 2 years

Text

The Gray Rider

Chapter One of The Town of Deadwood

{series masterlist} {previous chapter} {next chapter}

{taglist form} {AO3}

Pairings: Sheriff!Crosshair x OC, Cowboy!Hunter x OC

Summary: Sheriff Crosshair goes about his usual duties in the peaceful town, and all goes well for him until his brother shows his face in Deadwood for the first time in a long while.

Tags/Warnings: Mature. TBB Wild West AU. Alcohol, drunkenness, tobacco smoking, flirting, arguing.

Word count: 4.5k

Songs: pale rider, nocturne

I finally want to give a quick shout out to @emperor-palpaminty because a year ago I read her Western AU and was introduced to this beauty. Finally, after a bunch of research and brainstorming, this is coming to life!! Also, naming Tech Victor was totally her idea in her story Good Doctor, do go and check it out!!

The breeze was still cold when the traveler had left the barn, and a thin layer of mist covered the ground, dancing within the tall grass and over the dirt. The cool blue tone of the sky brightened, and at last, that warm toned orange began to illuminate the horizon. The wind howled in tandem with the calling of roosters and the mooing of the cattle, and the oldest of the Fett brothers stood in front of his farm, staring into nature.

The sun was finally beginning to rise.

The wind lifted Hunter’s curls with it, clouding for a moment his view of the beautiful, peaceful sunrise. It was a quiet life, the one he had; he’d done his part to earn it, or at least, to earn what he was worthy of.

He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the curls behind him, securing them into a bun, with only a couple of rogue strands bouncing over his forehead. His hand then went to the back of his neck, massaging the muscles on it, which had grown tight after the events of the previous night. He finally let his arms drop beside him and took one last moment to look at that beautiful sunrise before the day’s work would really get started.

Hunter found comfort in the fact that he’d be able to return to that view the morning after.

The cowboy turned his back on the sunrise and headed for his barn, finding that his brother had already removed the blankets from the floor and returned the place back to normal. Hunter didn’t pause; he walked straight for the stable where his reliable Spitfire chewed on some hay. With his hands, he cupped the sides of the horse’s face, smiling softly at it, knowing he could always count on Spitfire for anything.

“Calves are old enough to brand now,” Hunter broke the silence. “I think we should do that before anything else today, give ‘em time to recover before we have to move them.”

His unbelievably younger brother, whose massive figure towered even over some of the cattle and the horses, gave a silent nod—his aloofness, however, was not a result of him being tired; Raphael had learned to love waking up earlier than the sun years before.

“What is it?” Hunter asked.

“That’s the third one this week, Hun’er,” his brother responded, the gravel in his voice still present despite how quietly he’d spoken as he approached his own horse, the immense Percheron Josey.

“Aye, we’ve never had that many nomads here,” Hunter replied. “You think word’s spreading of our hospitality?”

Raphael gave a soft smile, stroking his horse one more time before finally turning to his older brother.

“You know we have to tell him,” he said.

“Him?”

“Him,” Raphael responded. “We’re still part of Deadwood, and he’ll want to know what these travelers are saying.”

Hunter couldn’t help but sigh. “You tell him. He likes you better.”

“That’s not true.”

“We both know it is. Raphael, I haven’t shown my face in town for years,” Hunter said. “There’s a reason for that. You go, say hi to him and Victor for me.”

“Aw,” said the younger brother. “I didn’t destroy that corral with my bare hands for you to still call me Raphael. Or did I, Harry Arthur?”

Hunter chuckled. “Fine, Wrecker, say hi to him and Victor for me.”

Wrecker lightly laughed back and petted his horse before heading to the corner of the barn for his tools.

“You’re comin’ too,” he said. “You’ll need to face your baby brother sooner or later.”

“Baby brother,” Hunter repeated under his breath.

It was harder than ever to believe in those words.

Wrecker then walked past him, bringing his attention back to reality. “I’ll get the fires started to heat the iron. You got the ropes?”

“Got ‘em,” Hunter responded, and with that, Wrecker finally went off to do his thing.

As Wrecker left, Hunter once again turned to look at the rising sun through the open doorway of the barn. He thought of the traveler that had been gone for less than an hour, and he thought of the other two who had taken a spot in their barn earlier that week, as had easily another few in the months prior.

Yes, his youngest brother would appreciate knowing what was going on, but he wouldn’t appreciate hearing it from Hunter.

Hunter looked at the rising star and figured, much like the sun signaled another day, the events in that barn were a prelude to something else.

Clair’s lunch house would be open for business in just a few minutes. Men and women eager for a nice meal at a reasonable price would start coming in like they usually did during the week, some with mighty conversation, others merely opting to keep to themselves. Clair would never judge any of them, and in fact, she was never one to open up that much to strangers either.

It would seem like things would go smoothly that noon, with nothing out of the ordinary.

That’s when she heard the man calling out for her.

“Lunch house lady!” The slur in his voice already signaled booze. “Purdy lunch house lady!”

Clair took a big sigh as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come and, tightening the bow on her back that secured the apron to her long, brown skirt, decisively made her way to the lunch house’s porch. Surely enough, there he was: old man Azmorrigan, whose big body rested on the proch’s stairs, his flabby arms clinging to the wooden railing, cheeks bright red as his eyes squinted in an attempt to escape the sunlight he’d collapsed under.

“Gods,” Clair whispered to herself.

“Lunch house lady!” He squirmed, trying to sit up, but failing. “Can I have this dance?!”

How many shots of bourbon did this man have this morning? Clair groaned mentally. She took two careful steps towards the pitiful man on the porch, lost on what to do.

“Sir, this isn’t a saloon,” Clair said. “I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“But—” he stopped to hiccup, burping in the middle of it. “I’m hungry!”

She tried as best as she could to hide her disgust, but anyone who saw her gaze would know she was crying out for help. If only Doctor Victor hadn’t just left—in Clair’s defense, she wasn’t counting on Azmorrigan showing up drunk on her porch, but she could really use the doctor’s help right about now.

Clair figured she’d have to do something to help the poor man. Pitiful as he was, he had been unemployed for about a month, always convinced he’d score a job “worthy of his name” but instead ending up with nothing. Maybe she could spare him a cup of coffee to help the booze pass, even if she covered its cost herself. She knew not to expect Azmorrigan to pay for it while he was that drunk.

He’s depressed, show him some kindness Clair told herself as she approached Azmorrigan, intent on at least helping him sit up. Her delicate hands took Azmorrigan by the voluptuous arms and, grunting, she managed to get the man to sit up on the stairs. Azmorrigan’s gaze traveled around him, registering Clair’s face and ultimately smiling at her, unable to recognize the grimace she looked at him with.

Gods, the man wreaked alcohol.

It was then that Clair noticed Azmorrigan looking over at the inside of the small, cozy lunch house, his eyes widening round in glee as he stumbled to get up with utter disregard of the young woman standing there, nearly knocking her over hadn’t she stepped back.

“Well, am I the first one ‘ere?!” Azmorrigan called, looking ready to leap into the lunch house.

In a sober state, Clair wouldn’t deny any man or woman entry to her lunch house. Azmorrigan currently didn’t fit into that template. With a yelped “No!” she leapt over at the doorway, hoping it would be enough to keep the large, inebriated man out of the house.

Instead, she was aided by the heavy sound of hoofs.

Step after step, the black mustang stallion carried its rider into the scene, catching both gazes from Clair and Azmorrigan. The gray bandana that covered the lower half of his face faintly swayed in the wind until he pulled it down, revealing his features, including the few curls of silver that peeked from his hat and behind his neck. A silent man, he didn’t need to speak to impose. He was the face of the town, the one who kept it orderly, the man who didn’t go by a proper name; the Gray Rider, Sheriff Crosshair of Deadwood.

And his brown eyes stared right at Clair as he looked down at her from up his horse, his gaze barely peering past the edge of his black hat, his lips curving discreetly, teeth baring as he secured a cigar at the corner of his lip. Still looking at the young woman, he took a hand and tipped his hat over at her in acknowledgement.

“Good afternoon, little lady,” he spoke.

Her chest heaved when his eyes stared into hers; the Sheriff’s presence was so heavy that she’d darn near forgotten Azmorrigan was there, swaying in an attempt to keep his balance.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” she said softly in return.

He couldn’t help but smirk at her. “We got a problem here?”

“U-Uh—not exactly, Sheriff,” Clair stammered. “Mr. Azmorrigan here is just… not in his best condition.”

“I just wanna dance with the pretty lady!” Azmorrigan whined.

With a nod, Sheriff Crosshair got down from the black stallion he rode, giving it a couple of soft pats on the neck before he walked toward Clair and Azmorrigan. His lean, tall figure towered over both of them, and his black and gray clothing stood out among the warmer tones of the lunch house. The moment he looked upon Azmorrigan, it was as if the poor man sobered up, registering the emotions behind the Sheriff’s gaze.

No one wanted to make the Sheriff mad.

“Now,” Crosshair wrapped an arm around Azmorrigan, leading him with ease away from the lunch house’s entryway and down the stairs of the porch. “What booze was it? Bourbon? Beer?”

“B-Bourbon, sir,” Azmorrigan admitted.

“And why are we drinkin’ so early?”

Azmorrigan’s gaze faltered to the ground. “Ya know how it is, Sheriff. No jobs available. No money. No luck.”

“We both know that ain’t true,” Crosshair replied, his voice hushing. “My offer to work with the books is still up, I want you to take it.”

“But, sir—”

“I can hardly care if it’s what you want,” Crosshair cut him off. “I can’t have you stumblin’ around town, drunk out of your own ass while the sun is up, makin’ the ladies uncomfortable. You’re not to get in the way of this kind miss doin’ her job again, you got it?”

Azmorrigan felt like contradicting the sheriff again, but his own pitiful hiccup seemed to prove the Gray Rider’s point. The drunk man hunched his shoulders and finally nodded.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” he said.

Crosshair nodded and signaled one of his men on patrol to bring a carriage. “Go home, get clean and sobered up. Be at my place before the day’s over.”

Crosshair’s men helped Azmorrigan onto a carriage before driving him off in the direction of his house. He stood, watching as the carriage left, with his hands on his hips and his back turned on Clair. When he finally turned around, he smirked as he adjusted the cigar on the corner of his lip, taking a long puff from it.

Her pretty brown eyes were already on him.

“He ain’t a violent man and he shouldn’t cause you more trouble, miss,” Crosshair said, “but if you need any help again, you tell me.”

Clair smiled as best as she could, trying to still the racing of her heart. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

He nodded and tipped his hat at her again, turning around to get on his horse again.

“W-Would you like anything?” Clair blurted just as his hands went on the saddle.

The Sheriff turned around and looked at her, silent.

“Perhaps a cup of coffee, or some lunch,” Clair continued, her voice quivering at times. “I’ve got my best recipe of mashed potatoes today.”

The way his lips curved at her words made her knees tremble, and he then stepped toward her again, slowly, with the spurs of his boots jingling with every step he took.

“I’d love to, little lady, but I’ve got a job to do,” he purred. “How about I meet you after sundown outside of Cid’s saloon?”

Clair dug her heels onto the wooden floor. “You’d want that?”

“Would you?” He asked.

She smiled dreamily at him. “I-I’d love to, sir.”

The discreet little smirk on his lips didn’t fade, and he finally tipped his gray hat one more time before turning around and getting on his mustang, galloping off westward into the town.

Clair still couldn’t quite move her legs as she watched him riding off. She’d been standing on that porch longer than she could register, unaware of the time that went by until at last her first customer of the day came in: Mrs. Patmore, one of the older, gray-haired women of the town who owned the steak house across the street.

“What are you looking at, Clair?” She asked.

Clair finally snapped out of it. “N-Nothing. Sheriff was here.”

The woman’s brows raised. “The Sheriff? What was he here for?”

“Old man Azmorrigan was drunk again,” Clair answers. “The Sheriff helped get him off the porch, he even gave him a job.”

“Oh, well,” Mrs. Patmore stumbled into the lunch house. “Ain’t that sheriff a blessing on Deadwood.”

Clair looked west even though the Gray Rider was well gone from view, but she couldn’t help but agree with the old woman. In any case, it was now time for her to get on with her afternoon; Mrs. Patmore was only the first of many hungry people seeking some lunch.

She’d have to find a way to keep from bumping into the tables and the chairs while she waited for the night.

It had been a peaceful day in the town of Deadwood, and once the sun had gone down, everyone began to let loose after a day’s work.

Clair had changed her brown skirt for a brighter toned one, almost bordering on cream, and she donned a black long sleeved blouse, with thin black gloves covering her hands and a necklace with a round golden pendant that dangled between her breasts. Her black hair, usually worn up completely, was now only half up, with waves draping down her shoulders. She wore the same shoes she’d worn the rest of the day; it wouldn’t make much difference given the length of her skirt, and no one would be able to tell.

Meanwhile, the Sheriff had dressed almost the same as he had throughout the day; if Clair hadn’t been so keen on observing him, she wouldn’t have noticed the different buttons on his shirt, or the thread that stitched his trousers, which was a smoky black that reflected light and stood out in the darker fabric as opposed to the equally dark thread on the trousers he’d worn when he’d aided her with the drunk man at her lunch house. There was only so much observing Clair was able to do discreetly, as her eyes couldn’t wander as much as she would have wanted them to while she spoke to him.

Sheriff Crosshair wasn’t a man of many words. He charmed with his presence, his wit, his eyes, and the way he sometimes smiled as he heard Clair speaking told her he liked the sound of her voice.

He was off duty for the most part, but the silver star on his chest still gleamed and signaled him as authority. Anyone who happened to walk by tipped their hat or nodded in respect at the Sheriff, and some of them even acknowledged the young woman he sat with. They were perched on a bench just outside Cid’s saloon, one of the most cheerful places in Deadwood’s nightlife, with the sound of laughter, chatter, and the lively piano music coming from the inside. They sat on opposite sides of the bench, with just enough empty space between them to not cause scandal—even though there would certainly be gossip of the young woman who’d spent the night talking with the Sheriff.

Crosshair opted for a toothpick rather than a cigar at that moment, and after taking a moment to look up at the starry night sky, he turned to Clair again. He caught her staring at him yet again, finding it adorable the way she abruptly tore her gaze from him.

“I’ve been sheriff of this town for years, but I only started seeing you around in recent months,” Crosshair commented through gritted teeth, securing the toothpick in his mouth.

“I arrived recently,” Clair answered, her hands fisted over her thighs—it was hard to concentrate when he sat the way he did, leaning back on the bench with one leg crossed over he other, ankle resting on his knee. “I came here on the train from Virginia when there was nothing left for me anymore, only a friend who works with her family on the east coast.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Crosshair replied.

“Don’t be,” she smiled. “I like it here. I like how safe it is; I suppose we owe that to you.”

Crosshair scoffed. “Suppose so.”

“The people respect you,” Clair added. “I think that’s a great sign.”

“I’m fair with the people,” he said.

“You’re kind to them too,” Clair smiled.

Crosshair couldn’t help but look at her with certain bewilderment—kind was not often a word used to describe him. “You think so?”

“Well, you gave Azmorrigan a job,” Clair replied. “You set your foot down but you weren’t aggressive or disrespectful, and you gave him the opportunity he needed. Mrs. Patmore later called you a blessing on this town.”

The Sheriff couldn’t help but scoff again as he looked away, oddly in awe at the words he heard coming from her. “I suppose you’re kind too, little lady.”

Clair looked away with a bashful smile, feeling as the heat came to her cheeks. “I’m just being honest, Sheriff.”

He smirked when he heard her speak his rank. “‘Nough about me. How are you feeling here at Deadwood?”

“I like what I do,” Clair met his gaze with a soft curve in her lips. “Cooking has been my great love ever since I was little, and I can do that here and share it with people. I actually got a great deal for the lunch house, and the rent is incredible.”

“Next to the doctor,” Crosshair commented.

“He needs help at times,” Clair smiled. “He said he’d be willing to lend me the space for the lunch house if I let him teach me some things to later help him out, but I told him I didn’t want to treat injuries or anything heavy. I’m incredibly squeamish, but he was kind about that and mostly just wants me to help with remedies.”

Clair’s gaze had drifted onto many points around the town as she spoke, and finally, she looked at Crosshair again. “Do you know the doctor personally?”

“Doctor Victor Fett,” Crosshair said as brown, receding curls and round glasses came into his mind. “Yeah. Good man.”

Clair smiled. “He also helps me manage the lunch house, he’s incredibly capable.”

“You are too,” Crosshair looked away. “It’s one thing to work somewhere, but runnin’ the place is beyond that.”

Clair chuckled at his remark. “See? I told you you’re kind.”

Crosshair softly laughed back, taking the toothpick from his mouth and flicking it away before facing the young woman sitting beside him.

“And I think you’re a lovely little lady, Miss Clair,” he said.

Her cheeks took a lovely tint of rouge that Crosshair felt he wanted to brush his touch over, and slowly, he inched closer to Clair on that bench. Her eyes gleamed with excitement but they held hints of caution, not denying the Sheriff, but not wanting to succumb to her own desires.

“Sheriff!” She giggled when he leaned in to try and kiss her. “What will the people say?”

“Little darlin’, I'm the sheriff around here,” Crosshair smirked. “They won’t say a damned thing.”

Everything inside Clair was exploding at the sheer proximity he held; his breath fanned over her features, and his hands were so close to her figure, awaiting a word of confirmation from her before he could finally take her in his grip. Clair’s big, brown eyes met the Sheriff’s, and with her smile widening, she nodded while her chest heaved in excitement.

His smile was already seductive, and it only seemed more so as he finally leaned down, ready to touch Clair’s soft, full lips with his own, but as soon as he could register the sound of steps and the jingle of spurs, he stopped himself and looked over Clair’s shoulder at the man who had approached the scene, his features hardening.

Clair couldn’t help but worry, hastily looking over her shoulder at the man who’d caught Crosshair’s attention. He dressed in brown trousers and a dark gray flannel to keep him warm in the night, with a red bandana loosely secured around his neck. The man’s belt buckle had a skull on it, its silver metal contrasting with the overall warm tone he carried with him; his skin was brown, just like the sheriff’s, and his eyes had the same deep brown. The man’s long, black curls dangled over his shoulders, at times swaying with the wind, and his gaze was heavy with remorse and indecision.

“Sheriff,” Clair whimpered.

“Don’t worry,” Crosshair said as he stood up, with Clair following after him. “He ain’t a problem, not for the town, at least.”

He turned around to face the woman he’d unconsciously shielded from the man’s sight, his gaze softening on her. “I won’t be long. How about you head into the saloon and wait for me, and I’ll offer you a dance when I’m done?”

As much as Clair fancied the idea of dancing with him, she felt the strangeness of the change of events and she directed an uneasy smile at him. Silently, Clair gathered himself and went up the steps of the saloon, opened the door and disappeared inside while Crosshair was left outside with the newcomer.

Even after all those years, none of his anger had faded.

“Thought I told you to keep your face outta my town,” Crosshair growled.

“I didn’t want to come here either,” Hunter answered. “Wreck—Raphael insisted.”

“Call him whatever he wants to be called,” Crosshair replied. “What are you doing here?”

Hunter sighed and he took off his hat, holding it absently down his side. “There’s something you should know.”

“I know all I have to know about you and about my town,” Crosshair replied.

“We’ve had travelers stayin’ at the barn, Crosshair,” Hunter knew there was no point in beating around the bush. “Travelers from Tombstone.”

Crosshair’s eyes hardened and widened at the mention of that town—he hated to admit that his oldest brother would be right. He did want to know what that was about.

“All of them?”

“Yes,” Hunter continued, relieved that Crosshair was responding. “They’re sayin’ they’re running away while they still can, but they’re the lucky ones. Town’s been taken over by bounty hunters; a lot of the people have already escaped onto other towns, but as of late, the bounty hunters have been tightening their rules and makin’ it harder on the people.”

“I take it that’s not all,” Crosshair said.

“No,” Hunter stepped closer to his youngest brother. “The most recent one, the one who left my barn before sunrise today, mentioned Tombstone doesn’t have enough people to sustain itself. There’s no work because there are no people to fill it, and the bounty hunters don’t fancy doin’ it themselves.”

Crosshair knew the possibilities of that implication, and he didn’t like any of them. The last thing he wanted was to weaponize his town, but at the very least, he’d have to increase patrols on Deadwood’s borders, maybe take some shifts himself with the old rifle, let the governor know, if he hadn’t been taken care of by the bounty hunters already.

Hunter was aware of what Crosshair was thinking, and he knew he wouldn’t get much more out of his brother. Chance of either one of them asking the other for a drink at the saloon would be a fine thing, and Hunter put his hat on once more, giving a faint nod.

“Anyway, that’s all I wanted to tell you,” Hunter said, turning his back to walk away.

“Thank you for the warning,” Crosshair surprised him by saying. “Now get the hell back to your barn.”

Hunter knew he should have seen the snarky remark coming—it was one of the things Crosshair was known for, after all.

He sighed. “Have you still not forgiven me? Not after all these years?”

Crosshair took slow steps towards his older, shorter brother. “I didn’t want this life.”

Hunter bowed his head in defeat; he knew it was a long shot he couldn’t make.

“I’ll say goodnight, then,” Hunter said before he started walking off, but ultimately he stopped himself and turned around again, taking out a folded paper from his pocket. “Mind if I put this up?”

“What is it?”

“A help wanted sign,” Hunter answered. “Cattle’s growing and I need someone to help look over the stables.”

“Put it on that post and get out,” Crosshair gestured to the side and the street and turned around, walking up the steps of the saloon’s porch.

The breeze flew through Hunter’s hair as he felt the fires inside himself dimming, and he slowly hung up the notice on the post outside the saloon, his gaze low.

“I’ve missed you too, brother,” he said to himself.

Just as he turned around, hoping to catch a final glimpse of his baby brother, Crosshair had already disappeared into the saloon, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Hunter with the howling of the wind.

A part of him knew he had it coming. Hunter essentially had pushed Crosshair into that way of life, and he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance to apologize.

He didn’t know if Crosshair would want to listen.

In any case, Hunter mentally wished his younger brother good fortune, and luck with the girl he was courting, and he finally set out to walk back to the barn where he felt he belonged.

Tags: @ct-1777 @wild-karrde @misogirl828 @seriowan

Fill out my tagform or let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Thanks for reading!

#moonstrider writes #town of deadwood #the bad batch #the bad batch au #the bad batch fanfic #tbb western au #tbb wild west au #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair x oc #tbb hunter x oc #moon's oc clair #moon's oc lav

74 notes · View notes

ghouligancentral · 2 years

Text

Sneak Peek of the first chapter of "Find Hell with Me"

As you leave the saloon, you notice the man with the scar still staring at you from over the rim of his glass, an ever present frown still adorning his face. What’s his problem?

You make your way around the back of the saloon to the alleyway. The wooden siding of the building creaks when you are suddenly thrusted up against it.

“What the—“

As you grab at the knife in your pocket, the man snatches your wrist causing you to drop the blade. It lands in the dirt by your feet with a soft thud.

“I know what you are.”

You look up to see the man with the scar hovering over you. Once again his face seems so familiar.

“Oh yeah and what’s that?” You sneer as you wrangle your wrist out of his grasp.

“A thief, a con…. A murder,” the man growls.

How in the Sam Hill would he know th—- oh. Your lips form into a wicked grin as you remember where you’ve seen his face before.

“So are you,” you reply with a smirk.

#bad batch #the bad batch #the clone wars #clone force 99 #sergeant hunter #star wars tbb #tbb fanfiction #western AU #tbb tech #wrecker #tbb crosshair #I am so excited for you all to read this #star wars #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you

23 notes · View notes

zeb-z · 1 year

Text

happy The Outpost eve to those who celebrate

(alt version under cut)

#i cannot do lineart. first draft sketch layer hes ugly get over it #anyways anyone else filled with dread for this episode #the interview. the all quiet on the western front gif with ‘be careful what you wish for’. hooo boy #tumblr stop ruining the quality of the photos challenge :/#crosshair #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch art #crosshair art #tbb crosshair #sw #Star Wars #my art

8 notes · View notes

wolverina2002 · 4 months

Text

Under a wake of Vultures, I come home

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon)

Characters: Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Clone Trooper Howzer (Star Wars)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Western, Crosshair Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Protective Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair Rejoins Clone Force 99 | Bad Batch, Good Older Sibling CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Mentioned Clone Commander Mayday (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Omega Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair Whump (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Protective Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Family Drama, Family Issues, Arguing, rodeo, Hopeful Ending

Language: English

Summary:

After loosing his partner to the Empire, Crosshair isn´t quite sure where to go. To his surprise, his instincts lead him to the right place in the right time.

#fanfiction #star wars #ao3 #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #clone trooper howzer #arc trooper echo #western au

1 note · View note

wild-karrde · 2 years

Note

Fandom Friday Art Rec!!

@shyranno has posted two FABULOUS pieces of artwork of Bad Batchers as Cowboys! Check them out!! 💖💖💖

Crosshair: https://shyranno.tumblr.com/post/698466725222580224/yeehaw-gunslinger-crosshairs-ready-to-ride

Wrecker: https://shyranno.tumblr.com/post/698655211046256640/i-dont-know-why-he-ended-up-looking-like-a-hero

THESE ARE SO COOL AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH! I absolutely am enamored with the designs Shy went for each of them. Crosshair is of course so broody, but LOOK AT WRECKER! LOOK HOW HAPPY HE LOOKS! I LOVE HIM! The bestest broadest ranch hand around. These are FANTASTIC, and I simply cannot form any additional coherent thoughts about them. Thanks for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #star wars #the bad batch #western au #wild west au #art rec #fan art #crosshair #wrecker

5 notes · View notes

stil-lindigo · 5 months

Text

link

I can't properly put into words the amount of disgust that I feel seeing someone who looks like she could be my cousin fight for a genocidal occupational force like Israel but I will say this.

If you are Chinese, Korean, Japanese or any one of these Asian ethnicities that the West deem "acceptable" and you align yourselves with western-backed racial supremacy, you are making fools of yourselves. You have fallen prey to the myth of the "model minority" and you are suckers for it.

The premise of racial supremacy is based on exclusivity. And here's a dose of reality - the myth of the "model minority" is nothing but a tactic to placate you. To sow divide in the ranks of people of colour. To artificially manufacture another realm of racial supremacy in minorities so that you're distracted from how we all suffer under colonialism.

Did we all forget about the skyrocketing of sinophobia in the wake of the first COVID outbreak? The transformation of Chinese people into fiends with barbaric eating customs, poor hygiene, and mass conspiracy to infect the world with biological weapons?

link

What about the hate-crimes? The attacks in the street against anyone visibly asian? The rampant discrimination and ostracisation from society?

In 2020, Donald Trump referred to COVID-19 as "The Chinese Virus", "Kung-flu" at a campaign rally to raucous applause, a chilling echo of the times where fears of the "Yellow Peril" had the western world in a stranglehold.

For all that Chinese people have been lauded as "prodigies" and "well-mannered workers", the moment our existence was incovenient, were were nothing more than another target. And although Chinese suffering then wasn't close to the scale of suffering that Palestinians now endure, we all received a reminder on what it was like to be in the world's crosshairs.

Now, in 2023, Biden dismisses death tolls as unreliable and remains proudly Zionist even after Netanyahu described the genocide Israel is inflicting upon Palestine as the "struggle between the children of light and the children of darkness, between humanity and the law of the jungle." At the same time, Palestinians are being compared to fleeing rats in a gesture of dehumanisation that mirrors how the Nazis portrayed Jews during the Holocaust.

link

And let's not think Abigail's Jewishness will save her, not when it's been proven that Israel has administered contraceptives to Ethiopian Jewish immigrants without their consent. Racial supremacy is an exclusive club that never stops getting smaller, and there is nothing that you, as a minority, will ever be able to do to fit in. One day, you too will be a target and there'll be nothing you can do but blame yourself. After all - it's already happened.

So shame on Abigail. Truly. With the memory of knowing what it's like to be targeted for factors out of your control fresh in her mind, she happily fights to do the same to others. And that says more about her than I ever will be able to.

#this may be long winded and wordy but i had to get this off my chest #as a chinese-australian woman who does her best to be proud of her chinese heritage #this was a slap in the face #and ive tried lately to not inject my own voice into discussion about palestine bc i know there are people out there #who are more educated and more equipped with voices that need elevating more than mine do #but i think im allowed to talk about how enraged this made me #god.#free palestine #palestine #cw: mentions of sinophobia #colonialism

1K notes · View notes

comradekatara · 12 days

Note

How much do I need to pay for some more aang and suki shenanigans?

same girl!!! their friendship (that is almost entirely hypothetical and mostly exists in my head) is soo important to me i just know they’re best friends. like obviously the fact that suki is close with appa and momo already signifies a lot about the nature of their relationship, but they barely interact throughout the show, which makes sense considering that suki is mostly there to supplement sokka’s character and all her other interactions with the gaang are fairly limited (katara and suki friendship though….. also deeply important. to me). but as the most emotionally healthy, stable, self-possessed, and just straight up cool members of the gaang, i just know they’d get along like a house on fire.

i think suki would pretty quickly come to see aang as a little brother figure the same way sokka does, and suki would be the big sister he never had in return. and they definitely get into all kinds of little adventures together after the war, like aang telling suki about the cactus juice incident and suki immediately being like “omg we NEED to try that (don’t tell sokka and katara)”, or going around helping rebuild villages and relocate displaced peoples together, or pranking each other in increasingly crazier ways.

oh yes the aang and suki prank war is very real (toph and katara have a concurrent prank war going on of course; zuko who is far too sensitive & gullible, and sokka who is far too anxious, refuse to be caught in the crosshairs of either of these conflicts). it starts at the western air temple and ends when both of them are dead. everyone on kyoshi island genuinely worships aang like a god and so they think suki is absolutely fucking insane for putting cactus juice in his smoothie right before he’s supposed to deliver a big speech, but she’s just like “no it’s gonna be so fucking funny, just trust me.” (and it is.)

the “putting a “snake” in your sleeping bag and humiliating you in front of your almost boyfriend and his hot dad -> reading katara a really bad poem and then claiming that aang wrote it for her -> loosening the bedframe in your bedroom on ember island so that it crashes during sex (the point at which aang learned NEVER to make sokka collateral damage in these escapades) -> making the whole gaang sit through a colonialist propaganda play just because you know it’ll piss aang off -> putting hot sauce in your red face paint so that it stings and burns your eyelids so bad throughout the entirety of zuko’s coronation day -> nearly causing an international incident because you straight up endangered the life of the avatar” pipeline is so fucking real you guys.

and for what it’s worth, a lot of people assume that aang and suki actually hate each other, and that’s why they’re so invested in this prank war. but they love each other deeply, and that’s evident whenever they’re not in the middle of concocting a nefarious revenge plot, like when they go for long walks together, or just sit and chill outside, or cook together, or any other one of the many other activities they enjoy in each other’s company. they don’t hold grudges either. the pranking is fun for them because they’re both secure enough in themselves to understand that it’s being done out a shared sense of joy and whimsy, and not out of any desire to genuinely antagonize the other. to be fair, sometimes their pranks do actually go too far in various ways, but again, no hard feelings. it’s just a testament to the skill of the pranker, and an invitation for the other to step up their game.

#professordino #asks #aang #suki #aang&suki #go thru that tag for more aang&suki shenaningans. btw #they are so important to me #as are all big sister little brother relationships…… for no reason in particular . of course

62 notes · View notes

cybertroniannugget · 6 months

Note

What if… Sam had a sibling who is very chaotic!!!! And they survive through out the Bayverse movies and when they meet Hound, Crosshairs and Drift, how would those 3 react to the crazy lil human?!? ;-;

(Could you possibly add Optimus Prime and Bumblebee!?)

Okay this is the first ever request I answer, kinda nervous tbh.

Hope you like it, and thanks for requesting^^

It's called Haiku...

Also, I don't know what pictures to add lmao

About this fic: sfw, gn reader, takes place in aoe

901 words

Sitting in the passenger's seat, squished next to Shane, you look out the window.

Sure, it was uncomfortable, but there were only 3 seats for the 4 of you.

You didn't say anything though, after they had just lost their friend, complaining would be of no use.

So you watch the wide desert landscape going by.

A white truck drove by on the other side of the road, but you didn't pay that much attention to it.

That's when the truck you four were in started rumbling. At first you didn't know what was going on, but when the seats shifted back roughly, the worn down leather replaced by more comfortable fabric seats you kind of got an idea.

"A man of taste I see. Western Stars are pretty nice.", you complimented, after seeing the symbol on the steering wheel, before the autobot logo took its place.

You opened the window to take a look at the Prime's new altmode.

Red flames across the blue paintjob, and everything was just so shiny.

"I must say, you looking good Prime!", you laugh, sticking your head back in.

"It was awesome but it was insane!", you heard Shane yell out excitedly.

The Prime's deep voice echoed over the radio, calling for his Autobots.

"I wonder If I'll see Bumblebee again. I missed that guy."

"Bumblebee?", Cade asked.

"Yeah, he's an Autobot don't worry. He's no giant insect, if that's what you thought about."

The man just raised an eyebrow at you, making Tessa chuckle in amusement.

After a few more minutes of driving you all got out of the truck, after Optimus opened the doors for you.

"Your dad is nice, but he needs to relax a lil...", you whisper to Tessa.

"He sure does, but he's trying his best."

"Never doubted that, don't worry.", you add, nudging her arm gently.

Optimus transformed, being greeted by his bots.

"Mr. free leader of the galaxy. I knew you'd make it. I never doubted it."

"Just who are these guys...", you mumble, looking around.

The green one with what looks like a cape suddenly turned to point his guns at you.

"Oh okay, that one feels like killin today...", you say, raising you arms sarcastically.

When the biggest one started lifting his guns was when you started sweating though.

But having fate on your side, like always, Optimus stopped them.

"Thanks Prime, I thought I was done for this time."

"🎶...Survivor! 🎶", Bee's Radio echoed.

"What's he mean by that now?", Hound asked, adjusting his cigar.

"We go way back. I saw Megatron so many times already. He nearly killed me twice but meh, still alive and kicking"

"Wait, aren't you that human from the fight in-?", Drift turned to ask.

"Chicago? Yeah, I've been there. Threw a brick at Megs myself.", you interrupted, proud of your past actions, arms crossed before your chest. "I've been there since the beginning. When it was just about a pair of glasses from my crazy great grandfather."

"They have fought with us. They're the only human I know I can trust."

"Rude...", Shane mumbled under his breath.

"I mean, how'd a squishy survive all that?!", Hound asked into the round of Cybertronians and humans

"Who you callin squishy?! I'm not the big one here."

"Pff, that's just armor. I'm as fast as a horse!"

"Well first of, it's as healthy as a horse. And also, it's none of your damn business how I survived all the shit I've been through. Because honestly, I don't even know myself. Maybe I'm just lucky"

You shrug, looking up at Optimus, who's serious demeanor made your heart sink.

He's always been serious yes, but a kind soul. Always open for questions.

Now he's just, well... dark.

"Well, but I'm sure as hell gonna survive this, so when we startin?!"

"Enthusiasm, I like it.", Crosshairs mentioned, spinning a gun in his servo, before tucking in back into his belt.

"🎶Where have youuuu been?!🎶", Bumblebee sang over the radio.

"Oooh, Rihanna, you got some mad taste Bee!"

Sticking your hands into the pockets of your worn down jeans, you look up at the yellow and black bot, who's optics were fixed on you.

"Well, after Chicago I needed a new place to stay. So I applied to work in a different hospital. And it led me to Austin, Texas."

You laugh

"In the good ol' south", you say, mocking the southern accent.

"I think I like that one", Hound says, leaning back against a rock wall.

"They have what it takes, like sunset colors on blue,

strength guts and virtue.", Drift added.

"If this is another hiku I swear Imma blow you to shreds...", Crosshairs murmured, turning to walk away.

"It's called Haiku!", you correct him.

"What?", he mumbled annoyed.

"I don't care what it's called. I just want to leave this place."

"Well, I like it, thank you.", you say to Drift, smiling at the bot.

In this moment of peace, it was of course Crosshairs who needed to add something unnecessary.

"Nah, it's lame"

Without warning, Drift jumped at him, swords drawn, ready to attack.

"And I thought I was crazy...", you whisper to Bee, rolling your eyes.

The bot snickered.

"Lord may you give me strength to not make anyone here short circuit on purpose..."

You squint your eyes, thinking.

"I don't even know their names yet... Wow"

"🎶Still don't know your name🎶"

"Oh you're right tho Bee.", you laugh

#transformers x reader #request #bayverse drift #bayverse crosshairs #bumblebee #optimus prime #Bayverse Hound

132 notes · View notes