notorious outlaw

Stormpilot: Gay Cowboy Style

Poe Dameron.

Most notorious outlaw West of the Mississippi. Maybe East of it as well. He wouldn’t know. Never had much cause to go back that way.

It was unsurprising, given his parentage. Ma’s brains and pa’s shooting were the two gifts they’d left him before they passed, and they’d served him well all his life.

He’d been more or less on his own ever since. He partnered up when it suited him, but extending trust too far had taught him lessons early on he wasn’t likely to forget, and once he cleared adolescence he made it policy never to let anyone get too close.

He was a rogue of the West, and spent his days creating headaches and causing trouble for the men he deemed unfit to lead, relieving them of goods and wealth he didn’t think they deserved. He spent his days helping folk who needed it- and helping himself when he needed it- and always staying one step ahead of the law.

He never expected one day he’d be in desperate need of help from someone else.

And he most definitely never expected that help to come from a deputy of the most corrupt sheriff the West had ever seen.

Poe had a tendency to walk into every town like he owned the place. It didn’t always serve him well, but who didn’t love a good bar brawl now and then? Got the juices flowin’. Made a man feel alive.

Still, he was forced to admit it may have been a poor move, heading into the township of Sheriff Ren with an excess of swagger and a defect of fear… especially given their history, and how much of a rotten pissant the man was.

Poe had a tendency to walk into every town like he owned the place. It didn’t always serve him well, but who didn’t love a good bar brawl now and then? Got the juices flowin’. Made a man feel alive.

Still, he was forced to admit it may have been a poor move, heading into the township of Sheriff Ren with an excess of swagger and a defect of fear… especially given their history, and how much of a rotten pissant the man was.

Sure enough, he’d only just finished his first whiskey and started scoping about for the right kind of gamblers to swindle out of their gold (trying to be too intrigued by that guy in the corner by himself, drinking quietly with his head down and what look’s like the weight of the world on his shoulders), when the cavalry arrived, a veritable storm of bounty hunters, deputies and average folk wanting a piece of the prize. They clutched wanted posters and pistols in their fists and had dollar signs in their eyes.


He gave them a run for their money. At least he liked to tell himself as much when he thought back on it years later, but the men he’d rode into town with proved yellow as soon as the first wave of hunters came into the saloon. Turned tail faster than a beat dog.

Not surprising.

Poe had a knack for getting himself out of dicey situations, usually through the use of his considerable wit, charm and his blessedly dashing looks. Sadly, it seemed talking his way out of this one wasn’t going to work for once. Sheriff Ren had lost a whole lot of good money on account of Poe, and he was not the forgiving type.

Poe’s luck, it seemed, had finally caught up with him.


He was set to be hanged at high noon, but the noose never touched his neck.

Not, sadly, due to any ingenious plan of his own, but by the mercy of a complete stranger.

The most courageous and hopelessly naive man he’d ever come across in his life or probably ever would again.

His goddamn hero.


They escaped by the skin of their teeth and headed into the wilds. Poe was pretty banged up, courtesy of Sheriff Kylo Ren and his lackeys, but there was air in his lungs and blood still pumped in his veins, and for that he was infinitely grateful. He also had a certain amount of gratitude for the gentleness of the courageous stranger’s hands, and the way he doctored Poe’s wounds with such patience and care, never once commenting if Poe winced or cried out in pain.

He tried not to dwell on that bit, and managed for the most part.

The Sheriff, it seemed, was not a man to be trifled with. For Poe to have crossed him not once but twice and still be breathing was already more than he could handle. That he’d managed to escape through betrayal by one of his own deputies was more than he could bear.

He pursued them relentlessly.

With such enormous targets on their backs, it only made sense to stick together, to watch one another’s until the danger passed.

Just for a while, Poe told himself.

‘Til they got far enough away Ren would give up, if that ever happened.

In the mean time, Finn was doing this really unsettling thing where he was acting like a good man and it was doing a number on Poe’s carefully constructed walls. He had determined long before meeting Finn that that such men didn’t exist, or were few and far between. He tried not to like him overmuch, but you can’t be around that kind of relentless earnestness and not be affected by it.

In a thousand little ways, without even knowing it Finn seemed dead set on shaking him up and proving his closely held beliefs wrong.

He did it again and again, and Poe was powerless to stop it. He did it with his easy laugh, or the way it just seemed so easy for him to dole out kindness. In the way he tended to horses, always chattering away to them as he did, calling them pretty when they were good and chastising them when they weren’t. In the way he always offered up peppermint or licorice when he got a stash in town, or the way his eyes sparkled with enjoyment when he and Poe argued about the merits (or lack thereof) of licorice, or whatever silly thing they picked to fill up the quiet.

He didn’t even make it a week before he started thinking of Finn as the best damn friend he’d ever had.


It had been over a year since Finn cut him down from the gallows and out of the jaws of death.

Ren stopped chasing them, or at least lost their trail, but they never did manage to part ways. At this point, Poe was certain the only way Finn would ever get rid of him would be if he decided to pump him full of bullets and leave him for dead.

Dammit, even if he did that (not that Poe could even imagine it), Poe was sure he’d crawl across the entire fucking desert just to look him in the eyes and ask him why.

Finn wasn’t just his friend any more.

He wanted him to be, desperately but more than half a year ago, things had started to get twisted up in Poe’s head and he couldn’t untangle them. Maybe longer ago than that.

He tried not to think about it, and by day they were usually too busy outrunning and outgunning trouble for him to fret about it. But by night, the yearning had started to creep in, and it was all Finn’s goddamn fault.

Finn was too goddamn soft.

It was impossible not to think about him in the kinda way a man shouldn’t think about another. His eyes were kind and his laugh was easy, and Poe spent so much time just trying to avert his gaze, to push down the longing so he wouldn’t act like a damn fool and scare off the best thing that ever happened to him. Because that’s what Finn was.

The kind of man who’d take a bullet for you without a second thought. The kind of man you could tell things to, things Poe never thought he’d say out loud to anyone. Things about his parents, or the things Poe did to survive in the first few years after their passing. Things he never wanted to say, things he never thought he could, seemed to just come out of him when he looked at chocolate colored eyes gleaming in the firelight, sensitive and patient.

Stopping the thing inside him is impossible, Poe knew that. Poe didn’t think anyone who lived a life in such shadow could come into contact with the light that was Finn and not come ti love him with every last bit of themselves.

Stopping such feelings was more than impossible, but controlling them wasn’t. At nights, he laid awake and thought about what Finn’s strong arms would feel like around him, what those beautiful hands would feel like on his body, but by days he smiled at him but never for too long.

And then one night at their campfire, when the ache had gotten so bad that Poe thought he might just get on his horse and ride away and never look back, Finn simply leaned over and pressed his lips against Poe’s. It was gentle and his lips were soft, and it lasted only seconds before he pulled back and fixed Poe with a stare that was equal parts heated and terrified.

Poe’s heart nearly stopped and his brain worked overtime trying to catch up on what had just happened, that brief, beautiful and entirely unexpected thing.

They’d run outta whiskey two nights before, so there was no way he could blame it on…

So that meant…did Finn want…?

“If I crossed a line, and you wanna take a swing at me, I understand,” Finn said, eyes downcast but still reflecting firelight. “Though I’d take it as kindness if you didn’t,” he mumbled, and something inside Poe exploded, because how could Finn not know, how could he not know that he was everything? From the minute he cut him down from the gallows, and every minute after.

Then show him, growled an impatient voice in his head, and he finally had the sense to take Finn by the jaw and return his kiss hard enough to hurt.

And that was it.

The end of the longing, the beginning of a life he never knew he wanted.

They got by on skirting the law for another couple of years. Finn, in spite of his charming naivety, proved useful in a fight and could usually be trusted to help carry out a scheme of Poe’s without difficulty.

They kept it up, toeing the lines of right and wrong to get by, but once they realized the extent of the thing between them, they knew it was time to stop running and start living.

So that’s what they do.

They find themselves a nice-sized plot with the money they’ve taken from them who never deserved it, in a place where no one they’ve crossed will be likely to find them.

It’s not much, really, the life they have. No one else would ever find it particularly grand or exciting. The men he’d known in his glory days, the men he’d fought with, killed with…they’d laugh in his face to see him now. And maybe try to stick a knife in him for being so wrong.

Poe doesn’t care. He has Finn now, Finn who is the best man he’s ever known, maybe the best man who ever lived. He has Finn however he wants, whenever he wants and Finn has him back.

In the bed they share, on the rug in front of the wood stove. In the grassy field under the summer sun, or when they crawl out of the creek after a swim, shivering and nude and in need of the best kind of warmth. After they bicker over whether or not raising chickens is worth the effort, after Finn shows him how to make a cobbler.

No matter where it is, no matter what leads to it, from the first time as young, men embarking on something alien and terrifying, to the very last, when they’re both gray and more than a little achey, every single time, it’s home.

ETA: Didn’t realize you could post graphics on AO3. Now there’s a version of it on there too. 

Title: Vagabonds
Author: chevrolangels
Artist: feredir
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: Western Au, Cowboy fic, Kidnapping, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn
Posting Date: 11/27/2017

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

- - -

“You wanna tell me what that is?”

Dean stiffens.

The outlaw’s eyes have turned to Dean. He’s sizing him up, squinting at what Dean knows must be a pitiful picture, tied up and helpless in the dirt. Dean stares right back. The man is tall, sturdily built, the bottom of his dark coat caked in dirt. The face under the hat is dark with a rough beard, barely healed scratches through his eyebrow. His eyes are hard and sharp as flint.

The first one grins toothily.

“We brought you a present, Em.”

He tosses the star towards the dark-haired man, who catches it, looking down at the molded tin.

“He was chasing Butler too,” he says. “Looks like we did his job for him.”

A slow smile spreads across the dark-haired man’s face.

He steps up towards Dean, who backs away, but with his hands tied, he doesn’t get very far.

The man squats down in front of him, tipping up the brim of his black hat.

“What’s your name, Sheriff?”

Dean snarls.

“The hell I’m telling you.”

The man just smiles.

“We’ll get it out of you soon enough.” He straightens. “You’ll talk. They all do eventually.”

He extends a hand. Dean glances at it, then grabs and pulls.

The outlaw goes sprawling in the dirt, and Dean scrambles, trying to reach for his gun. But the outlaw quickly recovers, rolling up and away from him, the mirth on his face replaced by a scowl. The other two are laughing.

“Hoo boy,” the shorter man says, chuckling. “He nearly got you, Em.”

“Looks like we picked ourselves a fighter,” the woman says, grinning.

The outlaw wipes the dust from his arms, shooting the two of them a glare. 

“Thank you for the help,” he growls. The short one laughs again.

“Aww, you were fine. He can’t do much damage trussed up like that.”

Dean struggles up to his elbows, spitting out a last ditch effort.

“They’ll come for me, you know,” he says. “My boys ain’t gonna let this slide. They’ll have every deputy in town looking for me. Twenty men, at least.”

The outlaw pauses at that, glancing back for a moment. Dean pulls himself up, jutting out his chin in defiance as the outlaw’s cold eyes drag up Dean’s form, his lips curling into a smile.

“I don’t think so,” he says softly. “Look at your clothes. Shabby. Repaired a dozen times over. And your boots are nearly worn through.” He cocks an eyebrow, the smile turning snide. “This town can barely pay one man, let alone twenty. So you know what that means?”

Dean shuts his mouth, grinding his teeth. The outlaw meets his eyes.

“It means you’re full of shit, Sheriff.”


The Pinkerton Detective Agency

In the mid to late 19th century, there were few police forces, few public security forces, and the US Military was quite small.  Such times allowed for private security, law enforcement, and military forces to thrive.  The largest and most powerful private security firm in the world at the time was the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, founded in 1850 by Allan Pinkerton.  During the later half of the 1800’s, if you needed a stagecoach full of valuables guarded, needed to protect a train from robbers, needed the services of mercenaries, needed a private detective, or even needed a bounty hunter to hunt down a notorious outlaw, “The Pinkerton Guards” were your go to guys.

Most of the Agency’s services focused on providing security guards to protect wagons, trains, and stagecoaches transporting valuables, especially bank and payroll funds.  However the Pinkerton Agency could provide a large number of special agents for a variety of services.  During the American Civil War, the US Government hired Pinkerton Agents as bodyguards for Abraham Lincoln, other politicians, and Union Generals.  Unfortunately for Lincoln the man assigned as his bodyguard the night of his assassination was not a Pinkerton Guard, but an incompetent local police officer.  Pinkerton Agents could also serve as detectives, trackers, and bounty hunters.  In 1895 a Pinkerton Detective named Frank Geyer became famous for tracking down and apprehending the infamous serial killer H. H. Holmes, who operated a hotel in Chicago where he tortured, mutilated, and murdered somewhere between 27 to 200 people.  Perhaps the most famous case of the Pinkerton Detective Agency was their nationwide hunt for the “Hole in the Wall Gang”, a pursuit that was so dogged Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was forced to flee to South America.

At its height the Pinkerton Detective Agency had tens of thousands of employees and sported more armed men than the US Army.  In fact, in some cases the Pinkerton Agency could provided uniformed soldiers for private military contracts.  Despite the Agency’s wide variety of services, the Pinkerton’s became most notorious for their use by wealthy industrialists as strike breakers.  In the 1870’s Pinkerton Agents successfully infiltrated and broke up the “Molly Maguires” in the Pennsylvania coal mines.  Pinkerton Agents also took part in breaking mining strikes in Colorado and West Virginia, including the infamous Ludlow Massacre.  In 1892 300 Pinkerton Agents were hired by Henry Frick to protect Andrew Carnegie’s steel factories from striking workers in Homestead near Pittsburgh.  It is unknown who fired the first shot, but the agents opened fire on the strikers, killing 16 and wounding 23 others.

By the late 19th and early 20th centuries the Pinkerton Detective Agency began to decline as local, state, and federal government agencies began to take over their duties.  The Agency saw a revival during World War I and Prohibition.  Today the Pinkerton Detective Agency is now called “Pinkerton Corporate Risk Management” and operates as a security company under ownership of the Swedish company Securitas Critical Infrastructure Services, Inc.

Reminder: Our Ancestors are not necessarily role models

More accurately they are:

- Here to help us not repeat their mistakes
- Part of History (often a darker era)
- Cautionary Tales
- Road maps of Humanity’s evolution as a species.

Their beliefs, their laws, and their decisions are not always things to aspire to. 

That goes for recent ancestors and more distant ones.

- I am one of the closest dependents of one of the most notorious outlaws in history
- My ancestors kept slaves
- My ancestors voted against abolition
- My ancestors would have had horrible beliefs about women
- My ancestors would have had even worse ideas about medicine and science.
- My ancestors believed in a skewed form of Justice.

Our Ancestors are not necessarily meant to be put on a pedestal of perfection. They are to be respected, for we wouldn’t be here without them. But they mean for us to learn from them. Many stick around to guide and teach their descendants. But do not be so enamored with the past that you fail to see or observe the evolution of mankind and our ability to be better than they were.

anonymous asked:

do you have any recommendations for shows that feature people of 18+ age?? i feel so pathetic being over 20 and watching shows about teenagers esp since they hardly are appropriate towards the kids and i cant even relate half the time :( i just wanna be normal

disclaimer – i don’t want this rec list to come with the undertone that it’s somehow problematic for a 20+ yr old to be into nonsexual stories about kids and teens. no one ever feels fully grown up or in control, so it’s no wonder adults, especially young adults, continue to relate to young characters. everyone wishes their childhood was a little bit (or a lot) different, so it’s no wonder people escape to a preferable youth through a fantastical lens. as long as you have an appropriate attitude about it i don’t think there’s anything fundamentally wrong with it! 

that being said, if you’re personally uncomfortable with that or don’t relate to younger characters, i totally respect that. here are some of my own favorites for/about adults:

  • trigun (anime)
    • two insurance agents track down the notorious outlaw whose disaster-causing habit costs their company a fortune.
    • as western as a space western gets. fun and not always the best production value but has lasting power… tacky but heartfelt. i feel like it’s going to stay with me my entire life.
    • cw: 90s-anime-typical sexism/sexual harassment gags, mortality as a serious plot element, implied abuse, mentioned rape, and christian religious themes.
  • monster (anime)
    • a japanese doctor living in germany in the 1990s struggles with the moral, social, and political consequences of saving a certain child.
    • my all-time favorite manga and one of my favorite anime. if you can handle the content in monster, check out naoki urasawa’s other works! he’s renowned for a reason. simply one of the finest artists to ever work in comics.
    • cw: textual nazism, psychological, physical, and emotional child abuse, two rapes, one off-screen and one on-screen (and witnessed by a child), lots of murder as a serious plot element, and some metatextual transmisogyny.
  • mushi-shi (anime)
    • in an ambiguous time in japanese history between the edo and meiji eras, a man wanders from village to village helping the locals with (super)natural challenges.
    • if you watch anime at all, i’m sure you’ve had this show recommended to you. i cant think of a single more consistently stunning anime. each episode is a breathtaking stand-alone story, so some deal with children, but the protagonist ginko and the presence of mushi are what tie the episodes together.
    • cw: sometimes a little creepy, can mention or imply child death or disturbing medical issues.
  • a raisin in the sun (film)
    • a black family in the late 50s/early 60s debates what to do with grandfather’s life insurance check.
    • i cried so hard when we watched this in my 60s film class that i was dehydrated to the point of blacking out and having a migraine for 3 hours afterwards. the entire cast performed so powerfully that i could feel their emotions from my toes to the top of my head.
    • cw: textual racism and sexism
  • midnight cowboy (film)
    • a male sex worker moves from texas to new york and befriends a sick homeless man.
    • second favorite movie i watched in aforementioned 60s film class. really interesting to think about in the social and political context of america in the 1960s. brilliantly crafted.
    • cw: this film is a DOOZIE, tons of (internalized) homophobia, ableism, heavy references to rape and child sexual abuse. sometimes the way it’s directed had me on the verge of sensory overload. go into this film knowing the director was an out gay man in the 60s and you’ll have a very different perspective on it than you might otherwise.
  • the world’s end (film)
    • a nostalgic asshole wants to finish the pub crawl he and his high school friends started back in the day.
    • don’t google this film before you watch it please … people going in fresh is my absolute favorite thing. i know this sounds like a douchey movie but cross my heart it is worth your time.
    • cw: alcohol/alcoholism, suicide attempt, Exactly One Female Character, martin freeman is there unfortunately.
  • the book of life (animated film)
    • the rulers of the land of the remembered and the land of the forgotten place a bet on which of a bullfighter and a soldier will win his childhood friend’s love.
    • still a favorite. a really one-of-a-kind film. kind, funny, visually spectacular. turns me into a complete romantic.
    • i can’t really think of any cws for this film ?? pretty standard fare.
  • dead like me (tv show)
    • an apathetic 18 year old is crushed by a toilet on her first day of work. having not lived a remarkable enough life to be sent to either heaven or hell, she stays on earth as a grim reaper.
    • by the creator of the extremely popular pushing daisies! man, that guy just can’t get enough of death. my favorite show growing up but i have no idea why my parents let me watch it. funny in a simultaneously humble and outlandish way.
    • cw: LOTS of cursing, probably a lot of slurs too but i haven’t seen it in a while. death, obviously, and often extremely stylized gore/body horror to go with it (a guy gets stabbed by a decorative swordfish, for example). tense and unhappy mother/daughter relationship.
  • some more stuff i’d recommend looking into, but aren’t my favorites or i haven’t seen em in long enough that i can’t give content warnings:
    • nana (anime)
    • samurai champloo (anime)
    • tatami galaxy (anime)
    • planetes (anime)
    • hardly worth mentioning with how famous it is, but cowboy bebop (anime)
    • eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (film)
    • butch cassidy and the sundance kid (film)
    • arsenic and old lace (film)
    • jesus christ superstar (film)
    • again sorry to be that guy and recommend this but – breaking bad (tv show)

hope there’s something here that suits your tastes! happy watching!

Fic: The Outlaw’s Lady part 2

This started life as a one shot but now looks set to be a multipart story. This part was based on this prompt from @lauraelizabeth77. Hope you enjoy it


Hi! I saw your request for prompts.. I notice you do fluff really well ( I love fluff). How about a bit of Murtagh and Claire bonding? Also! I noticed your back writing fic after a 10 year break. Well done! I’ve taken a 15 year break, started a few Outlander ideas.. you are inspiring me to get back to it!

Part 1 is here 

Claire woke to the sound of raised voices. That wasn’t unusual amongst the Highlanders, but what was unusual was the number of times she heard the words “Claire” “Mistress Beauchamp”, “Sassenach spy” and more than once “English bitch”. She threw off her cloak and groggily searched around for her clothes. The sat in a pile in the centre of the room. She flashed back to the previous night and her face flushed hot. She was engaged. To a large red headed highlander, who also happened to be a notorious outlaw. A notorious outlaw who also happened to be the single great love of her life. It all made so much sense to her now. She had tried to get away on occasion, and it had always been Jamie who had found her. She wondered if that she had subconsciously made that happen. If she had’t really wanted to leave, but done what she thought she must through duty, through loyalty.

Frank. He was her husband, but was he really? He wouldn’t even be born for nigh on another two hundred years and in her six weeks in the past the memory of him had grown blurry in a way it had not even in six years of separation through war. The war had taken its toll though, but she had thought that perhaps with time they could have fixed that had she never gone to the stones. Had she never found Jamie. But she had. She felt some regret that Frank would never know what had happened to her, that there would always be questions, but she also knew Frank. He had loved her, but he would move on. It was just who he was.  His fiercely pragmatic nature alone would ensure that. And for her, her heart and soul belonged elsewhere, she could never truly go back now.

She got dressed slowly, listening to the noise below escalate. Jamie. Dougal. Ned Gowan attempting to intercede between the two.

“Ya canna marry the Sassenach, Jamie. Colum will lose his head. Or you might lose yours. Whatever were ya thinking man?”

“She needs protecting. She has no people, no husband to take care o’ her. If you insist she must stay here with us, she at least deserves that. A lady of her station shouldna be by herself”

“Oh and you’re just the man to protect her, aye?” The derision was palpable.

There was more shouting this time less distinct but no less vehement in tone. She was dressed now and wondering what to do with herself. She didn’t really fancy throwing herself into Dougal’s firing line, but at the same time felt that really should be offering moral support to Jamie given that this wasn’t exactly something he had gotten into by himself. There was an alarming crash and the sound of a door banging. Heading to the window, she saw Dougal stomp across the yard towards the stables at the same time she heard footfalls on the stairs. Hurriedly raking her fingers through her wild morning hair she attempted to make herself more presentable expecting Jamie. It was Murtagh, however, who knocked and entered the room.

They eyed each other speculatively. Claire raised her chin slightly feeling slightly unnerved. It was however, Murtagh who broke the silence.

“I brought you some breakfast, lass. I figured you’d no want to be getting between Dougal and Jamie when they have their danders up. Even if you are the cause of it” He raised an eyebrow at her at this and walked over and placed a tray on the table in the corner. “Dougal’s stomped off, but I have nay doubt he’ll be back as soon as he’s thought of some new names to call the lad. I figured we’d just leave them at it for now at least”

She had expected Murtagh to leave immediately after setting the tray down but he surprised her by leaning against the fireplace.

“So, lass. Why do you want to marry Jamie?. I ken why he wants to marry you, the look on his face when he thinks no one is watching him watching you, is all I need to know about his feelings. But you? Why have you agreed to this? You ken he’s an outlaw?”

“I do” she replied.

“And ya ken he’s no land or money.”


“So why?” The scot looked at her intently, his bushy brows meeting. The silence stretched between them.

After a moment Murtagh spoke again. “I love that boy like he’s my own son and since his parents died he might as well be. I dinna think him taking you to wife is a good idea. I’m not going to lie about that, but I ken he loves you something fierce. He’s a good bit of both his Mam and Da in him and they loved passionately and not always wisely. He’s romantic and he believes in marrying for love. I dinna think any of us expected it to be to a mysterious Sassenach who near dropped out of the sky though.”

These were more words than she had heard Murtagh speak since he first found her at the stones those six weeks past.

“I love him too. I know that he has no land or money. I know that he’s an outlaw with a price on his head. I know all this and I still want him. Its him that I want. Not a position, not a name or title. Hell, I don’t even know his real name, but I’ll bet my shift it’s not MacTavish.”

The wiry scot’s mouth lifted a little at the corners with that. “No, its not. But its for Jamie to tell you who he is, not me.”

She nodded at that and he carried on. “It clear you’re a lady. High born and gently reared. Despite your foul mouth.” It was her turn to smile slightly. “Are you really prepared for what life with him could be like? If things go sour at Leoch. You’d have to take off. You could maybe head for France or the such, but it will no be easy for the two of you. Both of yis are in that mad bastard Randall’s sights. If he catches wind o’ yer…”

“I want him” her voice was almost a whisper and it shook slightly. There was another pause between them.

“Aye. Aye, I know you do, Mistress. You’ve the kind of face that just isna built for telling lies. But I needed to ask ya. I promised his Ma I’d always take care of him and I willna break that vow. Ya no the only one who loves him, ken?”

She kent. She did not know the taciturn highlander well, but she knew him to be stalwart and true. Jamie trusted him without question and she knew that she could too.

He rose to his feet.

“Well then… Claire” He looked slightly uncomfortable at the use of this familiarity and followed it with a world class scottish noise. “You finish your breakfast and come on down. We’ve some plans to make, aye?”

anonymous asked:

For the writing prompt: either 1, 23, 44, 65 or 187 (or any combination). Sorry if I'm being greedy but there are so many good ones!

Yeah, greedy indeed ahahah So, I’ve chosen to write two different drabbles for those prompts. This is the first one.

You know, nonny, I always see those medieval!aus where poor peasant Alec gets stuck with the all-powerful wizard Magnus Bane for some reason. 

How about we switch that trope, hm?

Warning for depictions of violence and blood.

Malec:  23: “Why did you spare me?” + 44: “I’m going to keep you safe.”

It happened so fast.

Magnus had been standing with the rest of the outlaws of The Brotherhood of the Downworld, surrounding that lonely knight. Everyone knew the south of Alicante was their territory, especially since the Crown had abandoned it to its own luck. If it wasn’t for the Brotherhood, the poor people would’ve been left to fend for themselves in a lawless land.

So they made their own laws, ignoring the precious Accords if so need be. And the first law was that any noble that ventured bellow the Portals would get robbed.

It was a matter of enforcing that law, really. They saw that lonely figure riding on his white warhorse, covered in the finest armor money could buy, and did what they had to do. They surrounded the arrogant prick and demanded that he handed his possessions in exchange for his life.

Then something had happened. Too fast, too sudden. Magnus didn’t understand how all of his companions were on the ground. Eight strong men, taken down in a blink of an eye. All of them were covered in arrows and the blood beneath them was starting to form pools.

But Magnus hadn’t been touched. Not a single strand of hair out of place, not a mark on his body. Nothing.

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“Do you even know how to use those things?”
“Haven’t heard a complaint yet, honey.”
“You know I’m asking about the guns, right?”

Screamin’ Mimi (Jane Russell) enjoys a certain amount of fame as a rodeo rider in a wild west show. Her life gets turned upside-down when the notorious outlaw Lefty Lucy (Gene Tierney) hides in her dressing room to escape a posse. With her partner in prison, Lucy is desperate for help and, mistaking Mimi for a sharpshooter, recruits her. Mimi figures she’ll make better money and lead a more exciting life as Lucy’s right-hand gal and goes along for the ride - neither anticipating that romance would eventually bloom right among the prairie blossoms.

*Lady-Lovin’-Lady Movies Nobody Asked For

Fic Prompts: Strange Magic Monday

The Bog King, notorious outlaw is on the loose in the Light Fields! (don’t ask him how that reputation started, he isn’t even sure what law he broke. Ask the inhabitants of the Dark Forest and they’ll all agree that he’s a perfectly respectable monarch). So just what was it that he did to grant him outlaw status among the fair folk?

Set Your Life on Fire

The bar wasn’t usually this busy. But when it was, it could get pretty damn hectic. Luckily everything ran on a fixed schedule. Tuesdays were the best, Mondays the worst, and Saturdays were reserved for regulating your sleep schedule before it got screwed up again the following week.

Because the rest of your week was anything but ordinary.

The local youth gang visited every Monday, and in your little neck of the woods, they were like kings. Loud and sauntering, laughing and fighting, shouting and jubilant, they were all young, around your age and as long as they didn’t cause too much trouble in your bar, you were fine with them.

Girls from your neighborhood flocked to the bar on Mondays, drawn like moths to a blue flame, eager to see the notorious Outlaws, as they were called. In reality, they were nothing more than a couple of neighborhood thugs who liked to zoom around the streets on their puttering motorcycles. But they were good-looking in the sullen and brooding kind of way, and you supposed there really was no resisting that.

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Just some McSombra fluff. Idea and headcannons from user @hackthehighnoon

What little heat clung inside a once Blackwatch safe house was being siphoned though an open door. The rectangular gateway into a German forest was lined in a soft blue haze thanks to a rain that dampened the night. Peeking through the tall evergreen trees on a hill to the East was the towering remains of Eichenwalde. The overall feeling of the night made its inhibitor feel like he was waiting for something to come alive. The night felt too still.  

Jesse McCree took another long drag of his cigarette before snuffing it across his boot and flicking it off the covered porch to land among the several others. Without really thinking he lit another one, his eyes combing through the dark tree bodies 20 yards ahead of him.

While heading home after a job in Russia, the notorious outlaw made a pit stop here. He wanted a few days off the grid; he didn’t expect to waltz onto someone else’s base camp. It was recon, an easier job of the ones he had seen, but he didn’t feel it right to leave the operative on her own.

Despite her protests.

McCree sighed into his serape, the scratchy fabric doing little to shake the cold off of him. It had been raining since he laid down several hours ago. The cowboy couldn’t find sleep so he decided to play a little watch dog.

His Peacekeeper felt heavy in its holster, the rain sounded like footsteps against the wooden roof, the trees crept closer.

He took another drag. It was nothing he told himself.

A rustle in the underbrush snagged his attention.

“Just a critter,” he spoke softly, hoping his voice would spook away any ghosts. The abandoned castle made him uneasy.

The night quieted down again, the pat pat pat of rain against wood it’s only soundtrack. Leaning against the cabin, McCree’s eye lids grew heavy and the temptation of sleep called to him.

               pat pat pat

               pat pat pat

               pat pat pat

               tap tap tap

At the sudden sound of footsteps McCree spun around, his revolver pulled and cocked.

Dios mio” grinned an amused Sombra, using two naked fingers to lower the barrel away from her face. “You’ll shoot someone’s eye out with that thing.”

“What’re think you’re doing?” McCree asked, anger covering his startled heart. “Sneaking around like that?”

“It’s my house, Joel,” she waltzed around him onto the porch. “I can do what I want.”

McCree audibly gritted his teeth at her nickname for him. He clicked the safety back on to his revolver, put it way then joined Sombra on the porch. The newest member in Gabriel’s posse had plopped down onto a dry spot under the roof, her feet dangling off the edge.

With her tech-riddled over coat removed she was dressed in a simple purple hoody, black tights and house shoes that Jesse didn’t think she could move very quickly in. Despite the coverage, her breath misted in front of her.

“It’s late ya know,” his accent low and thick with a slow western drawl. “What you doing up?”

“Asking you the same,” hers was just as thick but with a south of the boarder tickle. It cut through the night; sharp and quick. She kept her eyes ahead on the forest but pulled her knees to her chest. He thought he saw her shiver.

McCree pulled his serape off, tugging his unkempt hair in several more unruly directions, and draped it over Sombra’s shoulders before sitting down next to her.

“You’ll get yourself sick,” he explained lighting another cigarette.

“And you’ll get yourself killed,” she replied has he exhaled smoke into the night.

               “Ain’t killed me yet,” he grinned. “Say I got a couple good years left at least.”

“At least,” she shrugged.

As Jesse rose it back to his lips, Sombra snatched the cigarette and place it to her own. She took a shallow breath of the drug; it tasted disgusting, unlike him.

“Hey now, what’d you do that for.”

“Figured I see what the big bang was.”

He watched her take another drag, noticing her lips where a pale pink without the striking purple color. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed that sooner. She was a very beautiful woman under all of that cyberspace tech.

“You’ll ruin yourself,” he said suddenly between them. Taking the cigarette from her and killing the soft glow against the porch.

She rose an eye brow but kept quiet, a smile tugging at her mouth. She tugged his makeshift blanket closer around her, smelling the nicotine smoke. As the rain ticked the seconds by she noticed a better scent hidden underneath; an earthy smell of a bond fire and dust.

“How much longer you plan on staying out here?” McCree asked reaching into his pocket to replace the cigarette he extinguished. He needed to do something with his hands. Thrumming his fingers against his knee wasn’t cutting it.

“Can’t go long without those, can you?”

The match flame illuminated McCree’s face, casting wicked shadows along his jaw from his beard, as he looked pasted his hands to Sombra. He lowered the cigarette and match and with a shrug said, “Just need something a little sweeter, I reckon.”

Suddenly, Sombra was on him. Her lips pressed onto his. The second Jesse realized what had happened was the second she pulled away and hopped up to her feet. The same amused smile as before painted across her lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced retreating into the cabin. “I suggest you do the same, mi amigo.”

Idea and headcannons from Tumblr user @hackthehighnoon

Overprotective and Definitely not Careful

Notes:  Request from anon.  Garp says hello.  Ace wishes he could say goodbye.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshitSHIT!”

“Will you stop cursing and explain what’s going on?” Marco requested dryly, watching as Ace all but flew across the deck of the Moby Dick in a frenzy that had the first division commander suspecting that Ace was either hopped up on caffeine again or seriously panicking. 

“He knows!  He knows!”

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Some unique facts about Jesse James


Jesse James was a notorious American outlaw, famed for his train robberies and Robin Hood image. Below are some odd facts about the “original cowboy”.

1.) He was married to his cousin- “Cousin Kissers” weren’t uncommon in the 19th century, but it doesn’t make it any less weird. Jesse was deeply in love with his cousin Zerelda, and the two had intercourse for the very first time at the age of 13.

2.) He had chronic Blepharitis - Records show that he was known for his excessive blinking and watery eyes, which was probably caused by a life-long condition of Blepharitis, a common (but annoying) eye infection that affects the tear ducts.

3.) He was shot with his own gun- Bounty hunter, Bob Foard shot Jesse while he was doing a bit of spring cleaning in his house. He snuck up behind him while he was dusting a picture and executed him at point blank range. Bob later toured the country performing a reenactment of the murder, making a hefty profit.

4.) He took his gang on his honeymoon- Jesse James was never far from his notorious crew, and couldn’t bear to be apart from them… even on his own honeymoon. While he was romancing his wife, he took the time to rob a stagecoach with them, much to her horror.

5.) After his death, his mother became rich, and not for the reason you may think- It wasn’t inheritance that put her in a wealthy position, but a rather morbid tourist attraction she set up: She would charge people money to view his grave, and a further sum to take pebbles from the display. She made thousands of dollars from this.

Outlaws!Klaine Western AU - Comic & One Shot

My comic illustrations for super awesome story writen by lovely quizasvivamos. Beth created the funniest one shot out of my silly idea :)
Just GO and read the whole story!

Title: Kurt & Blaine: “Girls, Girls, Girls”

Artist: riverance

Author: quizasvivamos

Rating: T

Summary: Kurt and Blaine are notorious outlaws who are trekking westward from their home in New York where their crime spree began to California where they hope to find sanctuary and start a new life. While spending a few nights in a small frontier town, they find themselves in danger of being caught and must make a desperate attempt to get out of town fast.

Read on AO3!

humanprincescar  asked:

A large crowd surrounded the gallows as the Sheriff prepared the execution of one of the most notorious outlaws in the old west. The darker skinned man, with shoulder length back hair, stood silently as the man spoke. A rolled cigarette lit in his mouth as he prepared to go straight to hell. The sheriff soon gave him his sentence and prepared to pull the lever.

Brigitte stood in the crowded,her curls blowing in the soft breeze. She made her way through crowd to the bottom of the gallows and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before tossing it to the hay below. She then whistled the noted tone to the outlaw above.