#what kind of racist asshole is going to stop mid punch and be like oh you’re Chinese right

[rigmarolling]

Five Things Abe Lincoln Did That Prove He Was A BAMF

I love Lincoln. You probably know this if you’ve listened to me talk for more than two seconds. I have a literal entire bookshelf filled with Lincoln stuff. I teared up in Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln at Disneyland. I cried so hard when I watched Lincoln (2012), that I almost started dry-heaving. I was Lincoln (sort of) for Halloween.

Is it a problem? No. It isn’t a problem, Mom. Because Lincoln was a 100% USDA-certified badass.

Don’t believe me? Here are ten things Abe did to prove he was absolutely a BAMF.

1. That time he jumped out a window to prevent a vote.

In 1840, the Illinois legislature was voting on whether or not to fund the state bank. Lincoln was a member of the Whig party, which did not require members to wear wigs, contrary to what the name suggests, but which did support saving the state bank. The opposing party, the Democrats (different political beliefs from modern-day democrats, do NOT come at me, Reddit dudebros) wanted to shut the State bank down.

It all came down to a vote...and it looked like the anti-state bank democrats were going to win. Abraham Lincoln, then a 31-year-old legislator who looked like the pioneer version of a Tim Burton character, was getting nervous. 

Above: Jack Skellington, 1840.

“Shit,” he thought, probably, “We Whigs are screwed if we lose this vote. And we don’t even get to wear wigs.”

The bank-hating democrats scheduled a vote to adjourn the session, which would effectively be the nail in the state bank’s coffin. Abe was panicking. He was the de facto leader of the Whigs; he had to do something. 

“Prove your mettle, boy,” he probably thought to himself in a folksy, backwoods kinda way. “Show ‘em you ain’t gonna give up.”

So Abe did what any self-respecting legislator would do when stuck between a rock and a hard place:

He jumped out the window of the legislature to stop the vote.

To be fair, Lincoln wasn’t the only one to opt for a morning act of defenestration: a bunch of the other Whigs joined in, too. The rationale was, essentially, this:

Which is peak Internet comedy, but unfortunately, it was 1840 and the Internet didn’t exist yet, so nobody appreciated the gesture and the democrats eventually wound up closing the bank, anyway. 

But at least Abe showed the entire state that he appreciated Looney Tunes-esque escape tactics.

2. That time he roasted a guy during a debate with good-old self-deprecating humor.

You ever rely on self-deprecating humor to beat people to the “yes, I KNOW I am offensive” punch?

So did our 16th president, Abraham Nicole Lincoln.

(Not his real middle name.)

When Lincoln was campaigning, his biggest rival was Stephen Douglas, the Democratic contender who was nicknamed “the little giant” because he was short but a heavy hitter in politics, and also because he looks like the kind of guy that just wouldn’t shut up at parties:

Above: “Actually, I’m not racist, BUT--”

In 1858, Lincoln and Douglas held a series of seven famous political debates called, brilliantly, The Lincoln-Douglas Debates, coming to you LIVE at Rockefeller Center, with performances by the Rockettes, Anna and Elsa on Ice, AND with special guest, Seal!

These debates were THE go-to political show of the season. If you were super into who would be elected to the Illinois Senate in the mid-19th century, then holy shit, you have got to watch these two men go at each other, man, it’s like watching a tree and an angry little dog slap each other across the stage.

During the debates, Lincoln quickly became famous for his one-liners, and also because no one had ever seen a talking tree in a suit before.

In one of the debates, Douglas accused Lincoln of being two-faced. Without missing a beat, Lincoln, who had been mocked his entire life for his ungainly, scarecrow-like appearance in the same way that I just mocked him a few sentences ago, whoops...

ANYWAY.

Lincoln turned to Douglas and went, “Honestly, if I were two-faced, would I be showing you this one?” 

And then the audience did this:

And then Lincoln was like:

Check. Mate. 

3. That time he was so strong and such a good wrestler that nobody messed with him.

When I say “wrestler,” what do you think of?

Is it this?

Maybe this?

What about this?

Huh? What’s that you say? “What the hell is...is that Lincoln? What...what the hell is Lincoln doing in a list of wrestlers?

“Um,” I answer, “Being a wrestler.”

Because Abraham Lincoln, 6′ 4″ and all of 150-something pounds, was, in fact, an incredibly talented wrestler.

So talented, in fact, that when it came to wrestling matches, he went undefeated for most of his life.

See, Lincoln grew up in the middle of butt crack-nowhere, out in the sticks of the American frontier. Ain’t no room for sissies out on the frontier. This here’s hard-scrabble country, see, rough-livin’; you gotta spit to live; you gotta live to spit; Neosporin? I think you mean weak-ass bitch cream.

So how did rootin’ tootin’ frontier folk blow off steam? Well, when they weren’t dying of dysentery or tuberculosis or minor infections that could today be cured by steady application of Neosporin, they were wrasslin’. And when it came to the act of picking someone up and throwing them back down, nobody wrestled like 21-year-old Abraham Justine Lincoln.

(Not his real middle name.)

One look at the guy and people were like, “The hell? What’s this ancient Egyptian mummy doing in the ring?”

But the second he got going, everyone shut up. Because this guy was nuts. He was a berserker. He could defeat a guy three times his size in seconds. He could bench the Rock, probably, and not even break a sweat.

He was the nicest guy in town. But nobody--and I mean nobody--messed with Abraham Ashley Lincoln.

(Not his real middle name).

One time, Jack Armstrong, the local heavyweight champion who was the Big Bad in town and undefeated in the wrestling and “I’m a giant asshole who smashes my way through problems” arena, challenged Lincoln to a match. 

“Uh oh,” everyone in the little town of New Salem, Illinois thought, “That’s it for ol’ Twig Legs Abe. He might be good, but there’s no way he can defeat Jack Armstrong. Nice knowing you, kid; it’s a shame, because you might have made a solid president.”

But Lincoln, who knew no fear and ate chains forged in the heart of a dwarven cavern for breakfast, was like, “Bring it on, bitch.”

Above: Playin’ with the boys.

Jack and Abe started sparring and Jack threw insult after insult Abe’s way. I don’t know exactly what Jack said, but it was probably the 19th century equivalent of, “You may have 2,300 Facebook friends but nobody cares about the pictures of your homemade Shake ‘N Bake chicken that you post, eggwad.”

Abe didn’t relent. 

See, he was getting angry.

Really angry.

So angry, in fact, that in one fell swoop, he suddenly slammed big Jack Armstrong to the ground so hard that Armstrong passed out, cold.

Abe had won. Everyone stared at the panting, growling, 6′4″ pine tree man in reverent awe. 

A fun epilogue to this story: after Jack Armstrong recovered from getting his ass handed to him by a guy who looked like an extra in a movie about the Amish, he and Abe remained steadfast buddies for the rest of their lives. 

Jack just never ever insulted Abraham Jessica Lincoln again.

(Not his real middle name.)

4. The (many) times he went off into long, rambling stories during Cabinet meetings to illustrate a point.

You know how grandma and grandpa sometimes go off on tangents and you’re like, “okay, okay, get to the point.”

But grandma and grandpa don’t even respond and just keep talking about that one time in 1953 that Anne-Marie told George that no, she hadn’t gone to the corner store, why do you keep asking, George? And then I said to George, I said, George, you need to listen to Anne-Marie because she knows that the corner store is the only one in town that sells fresh-laid eggs and Butterick circle skirt patterns, but did he listen? Did he listen to me? No, he didn’t, so I went to---

You get it.

So did every single member of Lincoln’s cabinet. Because Lincoln was a consummate storyteller, for better or for worse. 

(Sometimes for worse, depending on who you asked.)

Above: “One time, at band camp...”

Lincoln would interrupt important meetings about, you know, saving the Union and the soul of the country itself with anecdotes that started something like this:

Lincoln: You know, Sec. Stanton, that reminds me of a fur-trapper I knew back in Illinois--

Stanton: Great, except, Mr. President, everyone is dying--

Lincoln: Now this here fur trapper was the best fur trapper in the entire state. Not the entire country, mind you, on account of we didn’t really have a way of measuring fur-trapping skills nationwide--

Stanton: *neck turning purple* Mr. President--

Lincoln:--but definitely the best fur trapper in Illinois. Now one day, this fur trapper set out to do what he did best: shoot some raccoons, or maybe a bear, or a wolf if he was lucky, or a deer, or some moose, or a beaver, or a mongoose, or maybe a possum--

Stanton: OH MY GOD--

Lincoln:--or a cat, if times were desperate, but not a dog, never a dog, because this here fur trapper loved dogs; had six of ‘em himself, all hound dogs, loyal to a fault, see, because this here fur trapper--

Stanton: JUST STOP--

Lincoln: --this here fur trapper could be short-sighted. See, he set his sights one day on shooting the biggest bear in the mountains--and this bear, why, this here bear was a Goliath of a bear, the biggest bear anyone ever did see, the biggest bear in the state; not the biggest bear in the country, mind you, on account of we didn’t have a way of comparing bear sizes nationwide, but--

You get the gist.

Above: “So I’m sitting there, barbecue sauce on my tiddies--”

Eventually, Lincoln would get to the point of his story; in this example, for...um, example...maybe the moral was, “Don’t get so focused on one goal (shooting that big bear) that you loose sight of other objectives in the war (getting rid of the wolf pack killing all the sheep or whatever).”

I would like to explain to you why telling long, rambling grandpa stories was such a power move:

Abe Lincoln was the president. 

So his whole Cabinet had to listen.

And Abe Lincoln knew it.

They had to listen to this backwoods guy go on and on about how that one time the local long boatsman fell into the river actually serves as a metaphor for Gen. McClellan’s inability to take control of the troops; or how the rabid raccoon that lived in the local blacksmith’s shop can serve as a metaphor for acting too hastily when trying to take down the South. 

Or, like, whatever.

Above: “All here in favor of me performing the entirety of Les Mis starring me as everyone, raise your hands.”

Apparently, Lincoln was also the kind of storyteller who, if there was a funny punchline at the end, took forever to get to the punch line because he’d start laughing hysterically at his own joke, and while many people thought it was incredibly endearing, others were like, “Boy, I wonder what it would be like if I dumped this entire fucking bottle of ink over the president’s head to get him to shut the fuck up.”

Spoiler alert: Lincoln did not, in fact, shut the fuck up. He was determined to teach folks a lesson through the the power of storytelling and also to help break the tension of a legitimately horrible war with the power of laughter.

Monopolizing the conversation to prove a point with anecdotes about frontier living that no one can escape?

Power. Move.

5. Those times he let his kids run amok in the White House and thought it was hilarious.

Lincoln had a four kids, all boys, who moved into the White House after he was elected president.

And these boys were little terrors.

To be fair, a vast majority of boys are terrors. Kids are terrors. They are small harbingers of chaos and discord with little regard for their fellow humans, which means they fit right in in the White House EYYYY POLITICAL COMMENTARY.

But Lincoln’s kids, apparently, were especially out of control.

Above: “Alright, enough pussy-footin’ around, Pops, fork over the dough and no one gets a kick in the nuts.”

Lincoln adored his boys, partly because he was a good dad and partly because he’d already had one child die tragically, so understandably, he was like, “Life is short and antibiotics haven’t been invented yet so we’re all going to die from getting paper cuts, probably; I’m just gonna let my boys do whatever the hell they want.”

And he kind of...did.

Willie and Tad Lincoln, his two youngest, brought tons of pets into the White House. Dogs, cats, birds...when people objected, Lincoln just sort of shrugged. He, too, was a huge animal lover and didn’t really care if ponies were clomping around the Oval Office. “My White House, my rules, my indoor ponies.”

The two Lincoln boys would dress up in military uniforms and have fake military drills and stage fake (LOUD) battles all over the White House, including when Dad was in a Cabinet meeting.

What did Dad do, you ask?

Laugh his head off.

While his kids would burst into Cabinet meetings, crawl under the table and kick important Senators’ legs and feet, generally causing a grade-A ruckus, Abe would try and fail to stifle his laughter.

Which, you know. Objectively isn’t the best parenting, but for Pete’s sake, they were at war, can’t they have a little fun? Jesus, lighten up, folks, they’re kids.

The Lincoln boys particularly irritated Sec. of War Edwin Stanton, but to be fair, almost everything irritated Sec. of War Edwin Stanton.

Above: “I have never had fun once, ever, in my life.”

Once again, Lincoln’s rationale was, “Life is fragile, one of my children already died, the country is at war, and kids make me laugh, so if they want to punch Sec. Stanton in the balls under the table, who am I to stop them?”

Also, Lincoln was the president, so nobody thought it was appropriate to go, “Um, hey? Mr.--Mr. President? Maybe you could tell your sons to, you know...not crawl under the table and interrupt, um...important...war strategy meetings?”

ALSO, Lincoln once wrestled a man twice his size to the ground without batting an eyelash, so you go tell him to make his kids behave. I dare you.

#abraham lincoln #listory #american history #us history #u.s. history

[xnikoletax-blog]

WORLD OF MANA: ANOMALY

chapter 1 - Gemini

Monday • February 22nd • 2154

Loki Preparatory

Loki, Vanaheim, Undine

◇◇◇

"Gaia, our celestial goddess, sits at the center of the universe, maintaining a balance between the two entities Ptah, who possesses the gifts of life, creativity, and the elements, and Yama the gifts of the death, time, and-"

"Ara," Jack begins, "I really love that you're proud of you religion essay, but it'd be a lie if I said I cared enough to read it." The twins sat side by side with their feet up against the beige slant of the lower west wing stairs. It'd been an uneventful afternoon since they'd finished their morning "History of Mana" class and were skipping lunch.

"Jack, come on," his eyes were closed as his head pressed back against the cool wall, "I made it really interesting."

"How could you make history interesting."

"I'm just retelling it in a less boring way." He scoffed in response as his sister looked for where she left off.

"Gaia, as the bearer of all beings, loves balance and enforces it on all. When Ptah decided to create children of his own, Gaia saw an upset on her scale. She-"

"-What, she couldn't bear the thought of her son giving birth." Ara sent him a glare as he chuckled at his own joke.

"You're not funny." She rolled her eyes before shutting her binder, placing it back in her navy backpack. "You do realize this is going to be in some portion of the Mana test tomorrow...this isn't something you can show up unprepared for."

"-I won't." He snapped. "I just-just finish what you wanted to say." Sneaking a worried glance at her brother's now annoyed expression, Ara pursed her lips before continuing.

"So, when Ptah had his children, the Titans and gods, Gaia saw an imbalance, as Yama did not possess the gift of life to do so as well. So to fix this, she made all of Ptah's children mortal beings, so that at the end of their journeys-"

"Our deaths."

"-Our journeys...our souls would cross over through Kabbala to join Yama. Ptah did not voice any concern over this, as he was still able to keep his children."

"Are you kidding me, I'd fight him," Jack's eyes snapped open as he turned his head towards his sister. "Like what the hell? I'd be so unfathomably livid if my own mother, the holier-than-thou bearer of all, gave my children's souls to my goth brother."

Ara rolled her eyes at her brother's claims.

"You'd shorten your lifespan by not letting it go. And not to mention, Ptah wasn't angry because the physical bodies of his children would seep into Faye, back to him. So some portion-"

"A disgusting, sloppy seconds portion."

"-Some portion of us stays with him. The balance of everything is what's most important, you know this. Anyway, Ptah first had six children: Sagani, the twins Ikatere and Undine, Vul, Sylph, and lastly Terra."

"Since Ptah possesses the gifts of life and creativity, he also possesses the mana of all four natural elements. He gifted Ikatere and Undine the water mana, Vul the fire mana, Sylph the air mana, and Terra the earth mana. Sagani was the only one of the six with no mana, and he remained so for a century, only acting as warden of the land,keeping the other titans, the gods, and creatures in balance. Seeing this, Ptah gave him part of his own intelligence and creativity mana, saying he and his children will forever remain the wardens of the Full as the five others' would be the elementals."

"What kind of gift is creativity?" Ara said nothing as her brother angrily drawled on. "Here we are getting shit on, and Ptah thinks that equates to all the mana given to his other children."

"I mean the intelligence plays a big part, and I think we put to good use our creativity."

"So, you think working our asses off, and those elemental asses taking credit for it is putting those gifts to good use?"

"Of course there are some injustices, but we can still strive for a better-"

"-When will you realize that there is no we," he turned his whole body to face his sister, "there's you and I, and the rest of the ward population that has yet to be bred out...but there is never going to be a 'we'."

A deafening silence settled around them, and Ara saw no point in arguing with her brother. Her harmonious, and peaceful manner always clashed with the loathsome outlook he grew to have on the rest of the world.

Minutes passed before the twins heard chattering coming from down the hall.

The three boys made their way down the hallway, with the hazel eyed Tai boasting on about nothing's the other two seemingly ghb key listened. Behind him, willowy Aashav walked with his hands stuffed in his pant pockets, and stoically looked to his extroverted friend. To Aashav left, strode Filip, who smiled smugly as the boys neared the stairs and saw the twins.

Aashav followed Filip's smug smirk before spotted the pair. His stoic facade broke as he halted in his steps.

"Come on Filip, just walk away, there's no need to be dick."

Filip smirked as he cockily strode over to the side of the staircase, and in tow a reluctant Aashav being pulled forward by an excited Tai.

Locking his eyes on Jack, the blond reached into his mouth to take out his chewed gum.

"And how are we doing today, Plains." He moved closer and crouched down, before smacking his chewed gum on Jack's cheek.Tai chuckled as Filip eyed the twins.

"Dude stop being an asshole, and let's just go to lunch." Aashav seethed as he made eye contact with Ara, who quickly looked away not a second later. Filip looked up at his friend with a cocked eyebrow before narrowing his eyes to slits.

"Who cares about lunch 'Shav, when we have these two specimen to joke around with." Aashav's hands made fists at his side as he moved forward, however Filip turned back around, and Tai quickly pulled him back.

"Come on man, we're just having fun." Aahav tore his arm out of his grasp and shoved back his ignorant friend.

Filip pushed Jack over as he sat down next to him, placing his arm around his shoulders. Ara refused to look over to them and just stared at the wall in front of her, biting her lip. Aashav turned around to pull Filip away, but Tai forcibly pulled him off towards the front of the stairs before he could grab Filip.

"I thought you got over the Ward girl." Tai day playfully shoved Aashav's shoulder, causing him to step back. "Or do you like the brother now." Aashav's jaw tightened as he carefully contemplated his next words.

"I'm just trying to stop you from doing something you might regret, so come on let's just get Filip and go." Tai slyly smirked as he eyed his serious friend, before he chuckled, shaking his head and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"We're just having fun buddy, no one's going to do anything bad."

Jack glared at Filip as he squeezed his left shoulder and brought him to his chest, his lips uncomfortably close to the twin's ear.

"I'm glad we've been able to get so close over the years, Plain." All Jack felt was hot, wet air before he elbowed the bully's side, and Ara finally turned to look at Filip.

"Now, now, Plain, let's not get physical." He first glared back at Jack before lifting his gaze at the fuming brunette.

"Stop calling us that, asshole." Ara seethed through clenched teeth.

"Twin two, how do you do? I almost forgot you were even here," Ara glared at the boy as he brought his attention back to Jack.

Ara took this as her opportunity to forcefully pull her brother away from the elemental. Filip feigned a look of sadness as he reached for Jack's arm, digging his nails in as the thinner boy was pulled away from him. Jack sucked in his teeth as he suppressed a pained cry. He then stepped back, and quickly got up to stand next to his sister.

"Plains, come back! I thought we were having fun!" Filip kept up his facade as he got up and slowly made his way towards them. Ara ignored him as Aashav rushed back over with an amused Tai trailing behind.

"You're being a racist bigot, right now. Leave them alone." Aashav grabbed his friends shoulder, but Filip forcibly pulled away from him before sending him a disapproving glare.

Ara grabbed her brother's arm once more, guiding them away from their taunting bully.

"Sorry Filip, I guess the Wigs have somewhere else to be." Tai sneered out. Jack halted in his step with his fists clenched at his sides. Aashav smacked Tai on the back of his head, leading Tai to angrily throw a punch. Aashav smacked his hand away before shoving him to the side, and started to walk away from the two boys.

Jack grinded his teeth together before seething out, "You racist idiots."

Ara forcibly pulled his arm in an attempt to have him let it go, however he still broke away and spun around, barreling back to stand in front of a smirking Filip.

"I think you hurt the Ward's feelings, Tai." Filip sneered as Tai lazily smirked behind him.

Jack glared at Tai, as his normally pale cheeks reddened with rage. The hazel eyed boy carelessly a kiss at him in response.

"Call us anything gain and I'll punch you." Tai and Filip shared yet another chuckle, as they eyed the fuming brunet. "I swear, you prick."

Filip stepped forward, tilting his head down so he was face to face with Jack. "Bet."

Jack surged forward, and Ara raced over to pull him back. However, it was too late, as only a second later his fist swung across to meet Filip's left cheek, causing the Undine elemental to step backward in an attempt to regain his composure.

"Oh, shit." Ara saw the now glaring blond quickly recover as he signed a mudra spell with his hands, and a ball of ice began forming mid air. Not a moment too soon, he hurled it towards the twins with a simple flick of his wrist.

Jack pulled Ara towards his chest before turning around and feeling the blistering cold, and hard impact of the ice on his back. He let out a pained cry as the burn from the leftover crystals spread.

Tai remained quiet as a look of worry creeped on his face, finally realizing they might've taken this too far. Aashav felt his anger boiling up as he witnessed his friend's cruelty, however his cowardice kept him from retaliating with his own mana. So, he relied on brute force as he ran over and tried pulling his friend away.

Filip glared at the cowering and powerless pair before he made the leftover ice harden, and spread till it reached Jack's neck. This caused the boy to cry out in pain as the cold burned his skin.

Filip wasn't budging even as Aashav seemingly uses all his force to drag him away, so he pulled a fist back before punching Filip in the face. Jack put all his weight against his sister, as he suppressed a pained cry.

Filip glared back at a glowering Aashav, but finally turned around to walk away with his hand pressed against his bloody nose. Tai had snuck away in the middle of Filip and Aashav's staredown, leaving the tall ebony boy to shamefully lock eyes with Ara.

"I can help walk him home, if-if that's okay." She refrained from showing any emotion as she looked at her brother's pained grimace.

"Yeah, that's fine."

Jack's eyes were closed, but he tried to stand on his own, however he quickly leaned back against his sister as the burned skin in his neck stretched. The ice had left blistering, but intricately patterned welts from the nape of his neck to his chin, none of which looked like they were going to heal anytime soon.

After placing their backpacks on each shoulder, Ara held the door leading outside, across from the stairs open. Aashav had slunked one of Jack's arms around his neck as he guided them outside. It was a good thing the lunch period hadn't ended, since the older students were allowed to leave campus only during that allotted time.

Their walk to the twins' apartment was short, but painfully quiet. Only Jack's pained breaths filled the air as Aashav would periodically glance at Ara, only to always be met with the side of her face.

The twins lived a few streets away from the school in the lower east side of Loki, one of the more "urban" residential settings. Before long, they stumbled into the building's warm lobby.

Jack slowly broke away from Aashav and stumbled over to the elevator, leaving Ara behind. She looked down at her feet as Aashav straightened up, and cleared his throat.

"I just want to apologize for what happen-"

"-Talk to me when you stop hanging out with those assholes." She quickly walked to the singing elevator Jack was holding open with his foot without looking back.

Aashav watched her retreat inside, before the doors closed. He closed his eyes, and forced himself to put on his signature stoic facade, and turned around to catch the nearest maglev.

#wattpad #wattpad recommendations #wattpad reads #wattpad request #wattpad writer #long reads #read my story #read my stuff #fantasy story #fantasy stuff

[imladris-soldier]

Lashes (pt 1)

Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those... the first two, anyway.

Bill Williamson x OC

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

The night was cold, and the ropes around Wicapiwakan's wrists cut all the more for it. She had been tied to a post since mid-afternoon, and no food or water had been offered to her. Just another day with the United States Army.

They captured her about a week before, just trying to hunt for her people. They made claims that she was on land that didn't belong to her; that hunting on that land was considered poaching and was illegal. She had lived in the area her entire life, and she had hunted on that land many times before. While it was possible that some new treaty had been made, ceding the land to the government, she suspected it was nothing more than an excuse to take her in.

She hadn't even managed to get any message back to her people before the soldiers tied her up and dragged her off. The only emotion matching her rage was her worry for them. They were a small group of Lakota, split off from the rest during a clash with the army some time back. She and two others had been the only ones capable of hunting and defending the party. Now they were down a bow, and she feared for them.

Her stomach grumbled quietly, and she gave it a frown. Now was not the time to complain. It wouldn't do to show any sign of weakness in front of the soldiers. While she did not know what they planned for her, she knew it was nothing good, and more than once she had caught various members of the unit staring in a very unsavory way. She needed to get out of this camp.

Lights and shadows shifted as the moon moved across the sky. The soldiers ate and drank and eventually slept, leaving Wicapiwakan to herself. That, at least, was a blessing. As the night wore on, however, she began to grow weary of her restraints. It was hard to sleep peacefully sitting straight up, hands behind your back, wrists bleeding lightly into the dirt around you. What she wouldn't give for a little sleep.

Just as she began to nod off slightly, she heard a noise that immediately brought her back to consciousness. The steps of many reached her, but she recognized immediately that these steps did not belong to anyone that belonged in the camp. They were too quiet.

With a cry, the natives surrounding the camp attacked. The soldiers stood no chance in their drunken state. It was a bloodbath Wicapiwakan was pleased to witness.

When it was done, she called out to the braves. “My brothers! Would you be kind enough to release me?”

Their leader came over and cut her bonds. “It is good we came. I do not want to think about what they would have done with you.”

“Nor I,” she replied, standing and tenderly massaging her wrists. “Thank you. I am Wicapiwakan, of the Lakota people.”

“Well met. I am Eagle Flies, of the Wapiti.”

“Wapiti? Then you know these parts well. Tell me, have you seen a small band of Lakota? Mostly elders, women, and children.”

A shadow passed over Eagle Flies' face that caused Wicapiwakan's guts to twist. “We found them two days ago. They... they were slaughtered. That is why we came here.”

The twisting feeling in her middle got worse, but she did not allow it to take over her frame. Instead, her eyes slipped shut. “May peace find them.”

“I'm sorry I do not have better news. What will you do now?”

Her eyes opened again, and she took a deep breath. “I do not know.”

“You are welcome to come with us. We are returning to our village. My father is chief. He will not be pleased with what we have done here, but he will welcome you with open arms.”

“Thank you, my friend, but I think I will go it alone for now.”

“If you should change your mind, we are camped just north of Donner Falls.”

Wicapiwakan held out here hand which Eagle Flies took. “Thank you. For saving me and for avenging my people.”

“We are all one people now, united against our shared enemy. Be safe. May the Great Spirit guard your back.”

“And you.”

The Wapiti gathered up their things and made their way out of the camp. Wicapiwakan stood in her spot for a time. She did not know where to go or what to do, but she felt a tug inside that she was meant to simply go on – continue. She did not know what awaited her, but it was no use going back.

…..

Several days passed, and Wicapiwakan spent most of those days wandering south along the Dakota River. She easily avoided any troops making their way to and from Fort Wallace, and once she got to Cumberland Falls, she began to relax bit.

One afternoon, as she was spear fishing in the river, two horses blew past her, splashing water all over her, and frightening every fish in the river. “HEY!” she roared at the two men. The leader, an unpleasant looking white man on a black horse paid her no mind. The younger, black man riding behind him threw an apologetic look over his shoulder, but ultimately said nothing. She stared daggers at their retreating forms, then muttered under her breath about the bullishness of white men.

Given that fishing was now a lost cause, she removed herself from the river and sat on its bank, snacking on some berries. About an hour passed of lazing by the water, and then she heard the approach of several wagons. Fearing another patrol, she slipped behind a bush to see.

It turned out to be a caravan of curious folk. There were men and women, at least one child, and a mix of skin tones. That alone intrigued her. What sort of people had no qualms about such things? She thought about the pair that had ridden through earlier and realized that they must have been the scouts. Her unfortunate tendency towards brashness caused her to step out from behind the bush and yell, “I was nearly run over by two fools some time ago. Were they yours?”

“WOAH!” The lead wagon pulled to a stop, and the rest followed suit. A man in a black, fluffy coat held the reins and he replied, “Depends. What kind of fools are we talkin' about?”

“Tall, blonde, ugly white man. Young black man with kind eyes.”

The large, balding man sitting next to the first laughed slightly. “Sounds like ours.”

“Indeed it does. Madam, I am sorry for their rudeness. It is inexcusable.” He hopped down from the wagon and came to her. “My name is Dutch van der Linde, and I am in charge of this rabble. Those men were Micah Bell and Lenny Summers, and they are under my charge.” He extended a hand which Wicapiwakan took tentatively. “Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

Her dark eyes met his, and she tried very hard to read him. There was a mix of feelings coming from this man. Above all else, he was a charmer, and thus, he was not to be fully trusted. “Apology accepted.”

“If I may ask, what are you doin' out here all alone?”

She shrugged. “Army killed my people. I am... searching for purpose.”

Sympathy crossed his face and his eyes fell. “I am sorry to hear that.” He looked back and gestured to his caravan. “We are all lost souls here.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You're a gang.”

His eyes came back to her, accompanied by a smirk. “Yes.”

A breeze blew through her hair, and she took a deep breath. The tug that had driven her forward before was back, though she still did not understand what sort of destination she was headed for. “Do you have room for another lost soul, Dutch van der Linde?”

He gave her an appraising look, then turned back to his gang. They all seemed to be willing to accept his word on the matter. “I don't see why not.”

…..

Wicapiwakan spent most of the ride to the gang's new campsite in the rear wagon. It was driven by a man named Arthur Morgan and contained two passengers: Hosea Matthews and Charles Smith. All three men had been welcoming and gave off an air of warmth and safety. Charles also had native blood, and she was quick to attach to him.

Once they arrived in a place they called Horseshoe Overlook, Wicapiwakan climbed down from the wagon and asked the woman giving orders what she could do to help.

“Well, dear.... what's your name again?”

“Wicapiwakan, but...”

Suddenly, a loud voice dripping in contempt called, “What kind of name is Wa-cappy-wican?”

The woman felt tension spread up her back and neck, but she bit back her angry retort, instead turning to face the speaker. He was a brute of man, about half a head taller than her, wearing plaid under a big brown coat. His hat was pulled down low on his head which made him seem like nothing more than a floating beard.

“Lakota.”

He sniggered. “Right.”

“In your language, my name is Holy Star, but given that nothing holy has likely ever passed lips such as yours, sir, you may call me Star.”

The man seemed taken aback, then mumbled something about not being spoken to that way by an Injun Squaw. Wicapiwakan felt her blood boil, and she took a step to retaliate, but Arthur came up behind the man and smacked him up upside the head. “That ain't no way to talk to a guest, Bill, you dumb heathen. Get outta here.”

Bill scurried off, and Arthur came to stand with the two women. “Sorry 'bout him. He's... rough and stupid. Says shit like that to Javier and Charles too. They mostly just throw him on his ass. Works well enough.”

“I was going to, had you not stepped in.”

“Oh, if he does it again, please be my guest and lay him out. You won't get in no trouble. Dutch knows how Bill can be.”

A smile touched the woman's lips. “Appreciate it.”

The older woman, Susan Grimshaw, put Wicapiwakan to work setting up the horses. It was work she was well suited to, and in no time, the animals were fed, watered, and comfortable. After that, Dutch asked to speak with her in his tent.

At first, she had thought to be nervous, but when she walked in, the air around the man did not lend itself to such feelings. Somehow, she was immediately at ease with him. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes. Arthur said somethin' to me 'bout you goin' by Star?”

“Sure. Be easier for everyone, way I see it.”

“It ain't because of what Bill said?”

She shook her head. “He's not the first white man to mock my name, and he will not be the last. Believe me, I know that my name is a bit of a mouthful for those unaccustomed to our language. I have used Star in the past. It's no bother to me.”

“Alright. I just wanted to make sure. I want everyone here to be comfortable.”

“Thank you, Dutch.”

He nodded, then gestured for her to follow him, so she did. He led her to the edge of the overlook, paused, and sighed. “Listen. You've joined this gang at a time of upheaval. We've just come from Blackwater. Our last job there... it went... very poorly. We lost people, and we have no money. Things are going to be rough around here for some time.”

“Can't be much worse than what I was already doing.”

“We are wanted men. All of us. Me most of all.”

“Yeah, well... the color of my skin makes me wanted around these parts. Whatever it is you've done – whatever they're hunting you for... they've done worse to my people.”

A soft smile appeared on Dutch's face. “I hate to say it, but you are right.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I just wanted you to know what you'd gotten yourself into.”

She returned his smile. “Running from the law and dealing with a racist asshole or two is just a normal day for me. I'll fit in.”

“I have faith you will. Come on. Let's see if we can find some food around here.”

The night passed easily, and Star found her new companions to be a decent bunch. They were all exhausted after their ordeal, but they welcomed her and asked after her. Charles became a lingering presence, and Star felt very distinctly that she had become something he needed to protect. It made her smile.

When people started drifting off to bed, she was shown to a bedroll between two of the other women: Karen and Mary-Beth. Karen fell asleep almost immediately, but Mary-Beth rolled over to face Star with a look of curiosity. “How come you wanted to join a gang of outlaws?” she whispered.

Star shrugged. “I just... had a feeling. I didn't want to be alone anymore.”

“Oh. I am sorry that your people died. It ain't right, the way you get treated.”

“No. It isn't.” Star sighed. “But thank you.”

Mary-Beth nodded and pat Star's hand. “You get some sleep, now.”

It took a while, but Star finally found sleep. It was one of the most restful nights she had had in a very long time.

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

@allaboutpizzaandfandoms (hope you don’t mind that I tagged you! Just knew you were interested and didn’t want you to miss it)

#my writing #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #bill williamson x oc #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #susan grimshaw #micah bell #lenny summers #mary-beth gaskill #charles smith #eagle flies #native american oc #this is gonna be a bill redemption fic so... just warning ya #i personally believe people can be taught the error of their ways in the matter of racism #bill williamson