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deejadabbles · 11 months

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The right parts (Tech x Reader) Western AU

Summary: You have been Pabu Creek's blacksmith for a long while, a fact that the local inventor, Tech, appreciated, since you were more than capable of making his custom parts.

Wild West AU with a gender neutral reader. No warnings, just sweet, awkward Tech, and first-kiss cuteness.

A.N: I've been seeing western AU stuff for the bad batch for a while, but I directly credit @emperor-palpaminty for this, as falling into their western au tag really got me inspired ❤️

If you wanna read more headcanons I have for my take on this AU, I have some here, and this might become a series of oneshots. Also, this has a bit of a steampunk-y vibe, hope you don't mind!

Most in town avoided the workshop. They were put off by the strange bangs and pops and hisses that rang behind those barn doors at every hour. Tech was treated...well enough by the town folk, but most would admit they were more put off by him than the other boys in his family.

Mostly, they just didn't understand him, his ramblings and rantings. They could admire Hunter and Wrecker's strength, Rex and Echo's veteran past, but Tech's mind? All those lofty textbooks and strange contraptions?

It was all just a bit much for the average person.

Still, most knew and appreciated how much their little town had benefited from Tech. His knowledge and inventions had helped many of them, just as much as the crops his brothers grew and the protection his cousins offered. And they appreciated it nonetheless.

But what they appreciated just as much, was the fact that you were one of the only persons willing to brave the infamous workshop.

Your satchel was hefty today, clinking with Tech's newest order, and you adjusted it on your shoulder as you lifted your fist to knock on the iron-braced door.

There was a metallic clatter on the other side, a muffled curse, and the shuffle of feet. In a groan of hinges the door opened, and there was Tech. Soot smeared across his cheek and forehead, sleeves rolled up well past his elbows, and glasses askew.

It was a true testament to how fond he was of you, that a small smile lifted his lips when his eyes met yours.

"Perfect timing," he greeted, eyes darting down to the bag resting on your hip.

Leaving the door wide open, Tech quickly turned and headed back into the depths of his workshop, knowing you would follow.

"Evening to you too," you smirked, stepping in after him.

As you shut the door behind you, you lifted your satchel off your shoulder, relishing the lifted weight. Tech's main set of workbenches (yes, set, not one simple table) sat along the adjoining wall, with blueprints, scribbled notes, broken parts, and tools scattered atop every surface. There was a clear space directly in front of where Tech stood, and that's where you set his order.

He untied the strap with care and tilted the bag so its contents rolled out with ease. The hum of approval that followed made your skin tingle just a little.

"Yes, yes," Tech muttered, lifting the first piece of metalwork to the light shining through the window, "these are just as I hoped. Exquisite work, as always." He looked over at you then, adjusting his glasses, "Then again, I expect nothing less from talent such as yours."

Your face was burning at the compliment, mouth dry even as you gave him a smile of your own. "Well, your sketches are always easy to work with," you said, reaching for the papers tucked into your vest pocket.

Tech repeatedly expressed how thankful he was that the town blacksmith was versatile in their work, as he always seemed to need custom parts for whatever machine he was working on at the moment. You were always happy to oblige, welcoming the challenge and change of pace. One could only make so many nails and horseshoes before they got bored.

While you tossed his latest specs back onto the pile of design sketches, Tech completed his examination of your work. Then, he slid off his round spectacles and grabbed his goggles, another piece of your handywork.

"As I said, your timing could not have been better, my dear," he tightened the strap, "as I'm a hair away from completing my latest project.

"Do you need any help?"

He paused as he reached for his tool set, "Oh, I- yes!" he cleared his throat, "If you don't have anything else pressing to attend to, an extra set of hands would be appreciated."

You waved your hand at the rest of the open building, "Lead the way."

Tech had, many projects. Some with thick layers of dust, some in several pieces, others he came back to often. To the untrained eye, it all looked like piles of junk, but you had been in here enough over the years that you recognized that it was just a result of Tech hyperactive mind. He had trouble staying on one project for long, though sometimes, like this current machine, he managed it.

After leading you to the very back of the barn-like building, Tech set down his toolbox beside the strange contraption. For lack of a better comparison, you likened its shape to a metal bull of sorts, with thin wheels for legs and a large opening where its head might have been. Though, if Tech heard you collating it to an animal, he'd probably raise a confused brow. He cared little for aesthetics, after all.

"If you could hold this," Tech cut through your musings, holding up a paneled section of the machine's side.

You took it from him, holding it up on its hinges so he could all but climb inside.

"Ah, now I get it," you smiled seeing what part he was working on, "you're trying to increase the pressure."

"Precisely, there was too much steam loss, which resulted in slower forward motion, which itself resulted in the wheels getting caught on every minor obstruction in its path."

You let him ramble on as he tinkered with this, adjusted that, working your new parts in one at a time. He did use your hands, asking you to press down on one thing, hold another in place, it all made the process faster.

When he was done there, Tech threw open the barn doors in front of the machine, giving it somewhere to go when he as he ran his final test. Then, he asked you to help him load the fuel source to start that test run. The thing seemed to roar to life the moment it had its food, and the gears Tech had commissioned from your last week began to turn- before stalling almost instantly.

"Oh no no no no!" Tech ran his fingers through the tight curls of his hair as he looked about, "That should have worked! Why isn't it working!?"

"Tech," you grabbed his arm and pointed to the ceiling, "you still have it chained up!"

His eyes went wide as he looked at his suspension rig, which he often used to lift machines for easier alterations. Without a word, he leapt onto the would-be bull, climbing onto its back and began working at the chains, worried something would break from the strain.

The moment the machine was free it lurked forward, gears cranking and turning- and throwing Tech off its back as it took off. Your heart leapt into your throat as he came soaring down, and your arms flew open without another thought.

With a great thud, Tech's body collided with your own, sending you both tumbling down to the dirt floor. You could smell the coal and tang of metal that clung to Tech like a cologne, being that he was laying right on top of you. He drew in a shaky breath, nose brushing against your cheek as he propped himself up on his elbow, which also just so happened to be on either side of your head.

He fixed his goggles, which had gone askew, and blinked down at you, "My apologies," he breathed, "I did not mean to-"

"Tech," you cut him off, cupping your hands on his face so you could turn it in the direction of the doors, "it works, your machine works!"

Indeed, the large contraption was grinding and lurching down the open field surrounding his workshop with great power. He let out a laugh, turning his head back to you.

"It does indeed! This is wonderful, Wrecker's next harvest will go much more smoothly now."

You were sure the way you smiled up at him was soft, too soft to be just a friendly smile, but you didn't stop yourself from saying, in an equally gentle tone, "Your brilliant mind never ceases to amaze me."

You saw him draw in a sharp breath, and thought something in his eyes...shifted. "And you, my darling, never cease to amaze me with your handiwork." Was he..was he leaning in closer to you? "Not many people can understand me, and you always do so without fail."

His eyes were half-lidded now, as he placed one of his hands over yours, which was still holding his face. You couldn't help but hold your breath as he just looked down at you, thumb caressing the back of your hand.

"Your palms, they're...rough," he whispered rather absent-mindedly.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, "So are yours," you grumbled back, and watched his eyes widen.

"Oh! No, I like them- your hands, I mean. I like that they're rough."

This time your eyes held interest, and you leaned up ever so slightly, "You do, do you?"

He gulped and this time, you knew he was moving closer to you, "Yes, very much so. I dare say, I love everything about you, my sweet."

And then his lips were on yours.

They were chapped but moved with an unexpected grace. The hand that had been placed over yours moved to cup your cheek. You responded in kind, taking your own hands and sliding them back to curl into his hair. He let out a moan, a moan that caught in his throat when you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.

It was then that you were fully reminded of the fact that he was laying atop you. His leg moved seemingly of its own accord, pressing between your thighs in a way that had your chest stirring with something new.

Unfortunately, a sound echoed from across the field, and you pulled yourself out of your heated haze long enough to pull back just a little. Tech was not discouraged, his mind fixated on the task before him, and he simply moved his mouth to your jawline.

"T-Tech," you all but moaned, and the deep hum he gave in response had your mind spinning. He must like it when you say his name. "We- need to go catch your machine."

His breath was hot against your ear as he nuzzled your skin, "Do we have to, my dear? I am far more intrigued by my current project."

You didn't have time to unpack whether or not you liked being called his project, because you were untangling your finger from his curls to gently push on his chest.

"We can always continue this later, mr beautiful mind, but for now, I'm pretty sure that thing is heading for Cid's saloon."

Again, Tech's eyes went wide, any aforementioned lust vanishing. "Oh, dear!"

#tech x reader #tbb tech #tech x you #tech x y/n #tbb western au #tech fluff #tech oneshot #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #deeja writes

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moonstrider9904 · 2 years

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The Gray Rider

Chapter One of The Town of Deadwood

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{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

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aeli-tan-art · 2 months

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Please donate!

song : Come Back Alive by Delta Rae

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #star wars #bad batch hunter #bad batch wrecker #bad batch echo #bad batch tech #bad batch omega #phee genoa #captain rex #cad bane #bad batch cid #storyboard #animatic #video #western au

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shyranno · 1 year

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Well howdy do, I reckon cowboy Hunter's pretty good with a lasso, don't you?

#the bad batch #tbb #hunter #star wars #fan art #western au

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blessyo4 · 1 year

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bad batch redemption

#the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb #fanart #crosshair tbb #Tech tbb #echo tbb #hunter tbb #wrecker tbb #rdr2 #cookies if yourecognize the fits #:)#finaly hopped on the western au train

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echojedis · 1 year

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I thought it would be cute if cowboy Hunter had a paint horse with markings that match his tattoos 🐴

#the bad batch #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #western au #art

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ghouligancentral · 2 years

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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

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cael-art · 1 month

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Bad Batch Western AU Part 2: Crosshair 🖤

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wolverina2002 · 4 months

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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

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deejadabbles · 11 months

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Been seeing a lot of Bad Batch western AU stuff so here's some random thoughts I had, might make some fics based around them eventually.

The boys grew up on a nice little homestead (probably called something like Pabu Creek or something), Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker are all brothers.

Hunter's the oldest and inherited the family's ranch when their folks passed. Has a reputation for never losing his livestock when they get loose, as he's an expert tracker. There was a nasty incident when some poachers tried to steal his horses. No one really knows what happened when Hunter tracked them down.

Wrecker, for a while, just helped with the ranch but he started to take to more farm work the longer he helped their neighbors through rough harvests. One year Hunter used their savings to buy another stretch of land so Wrecker could start his own farm. The whole town pitched in to build his house and barns as a thank-you for everything he's always doing for them (everyone adores Wrecker, even if he is loud as all get-out)

Tech is, of course, the scholar of the family. While he did help on the ranch he much preferred his textbooks. Now he spends his days in his workshop, inventing new ways to improve farm work and the general lives of the town. Often visits the nearest city to sell his inventions and buy new books on any subject he can get his hands on. Everyone thinks he's a bit of a mad scientist.

Crosshair is...the black sheep of the fam. When their parents died Hunter and Cross fought almost constantly. Eventually, he saddled one of the family horses and just...took off in the middle of the night, leaving behind a note that said he needed to find his own path. Hunter wanted to go after him, but Tech convinced him to let him go, that he could only come back when he was ready. Rumor has it that he became a bounty hunter, but they still hope he'll come home someday.

Rex and Echo are their cousins. Both grew up in the city and were drafted into the army when the war broke out. After the war, both men still wanted to be of service, but also wanted a simpler life. So, when the latest letter from their cousin Hunter mentioned that Pabu needed a new sheriff, they took it as a sign.

Rex is the sheriff, well respected and beloved by the whole town. You can see him patrolling the streets and surrounding land at all hours. He checks in on every farm and house in the area regularly to make sure everyone's safe.

Echo is the deputy. However, he has to ignore the looks that linger on his prosthetic arm and leg. Most thank him for the sacrifice he made in the war, but are skeptical of his ability to protect them. Thankfully he knows his own skill and ability to adapt and never wavers in his duty. The town quickly learns they can put their faith in him.

Omega. Oh, this little one. She grew up in a convent after her parents died. She never took to that life well and always daydreamed about adventure and setting out on her own one day.

Unfortunately, that day came when the convent was burnt down. Omega was one of the only survivors and found herself suddenly on her own, alone and scared. She wandered through the forest for days, until she came across a camp of bandits. Thankfully some passers-by heard her screams as she ran from them and intervened.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech were just coming back from a supply run to the city when they found Omega running from some unsavory folk. Folk who...lets just say they rethought their choice to chase the girl when the brothers stepped in. Not sure what to do after that, they brought Omega back to their little town and the rest is history. Hunter finally officially adopted her after a year of her staying with them <3

#idk what possessed me to think of all this #but here ya go #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #bad batch x reader #western au #cow boy au #tbb hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #captain rex x reader #echo x reader #deeja rambles #heacanons #bad batch headcanons

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wild-karrde · 1 year

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Early fandom Friday recommendation: @shyranno’s Tech as gentleman cowboy. I think the Tech fans I know are going bonkers over this piece of art. I’m partial to the version of him with the bowler hat and mustache. It’s consistent with the “I need to hide from the Empire” logic.

https://at.tumblr.com/shyranno/part-time-bartender-part-time-doctor-all-time/aqv1fiht2hud

There’s a story and author I’m going to recommend in another post.

I hope your 5k went well. I remember you referring to it in response to another person.

YESSSS! I have absolutely loved all of Shy's Western Bad Batch pieces, but I was waiting to see how Tech would come out, and boy howdy (no pun intended, that's just my Midwest showing... ok mild pun intended), this piece did NOT disappoint. I'm absolutely with you on being partial to the version with the hat and the 'stache. It suits him, as does the rest of this design. It's GREAT! Thanks for the rec!

(Also the 5K went well! Almost hit my goal for time, which wasn't bad after having to take time off training for family stuff. Thanks for asking hehe!)

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

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

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shyranno · 2 years

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YEEHAW gunslinger Crosshair’s ready to RIDE

#the bad batch #tbb #crosshair #star wars #fan art #western au

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dragonrider9905 · 21 days

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Celebrating You!

Hi guys! I’ve been on here for a bit now and while I never had a follower goal, I do appreciate you guys who have decided to follow me! So now I’d like to celebrate you!

In light of TBB ending, and how much we'll be missing the boys, I thought this was as good as a time as ever!

Here’s the idea! I’m opening a prompt request for the dates of April 5th through May 5th, 2024 (you may start submitting now though!) and choose from the prompts below! You can choose one from each category, or just one category. It’s ok if it is just the prompt or the prompt and a brief idea. If you have a fun idea or prompt not listed, please share!

Rules: I only write SFW. I typically write for clones; I reserve the right to refuse requests which make me uncomfortable for whatever reason. I have had a few requests in the past that really unsettled me for various reasons. Or if I don't know the character. I'd hate to try to write something then upset the person because it is so ooc that it's cringy. (But if I said I would write your request and haven't yet, I just honestly haven't gotten to it :D I like to do well on the stories you guys entrust to me so it does take me a bit :D)

This is supposed to be fun so lets keep it fun!

You may submit as many requests as you'd like! The more the merrier!

Characters: Star Wars Clone Wars or The Bad Batch (as long as I know them. I know a lot of clones but alas, not all.)

Story genre:

Classic SW! (Pick an era if they exist in more than one if you wish)

AU of choice (modern, western, pirate, mermaid, time traveling, etc if I’m unfamiliar with the genre, I may have to change it or request more details)

Dialogue Prompts:

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“If we’re going to do this we’ll need—“ “A plan?” “No! Code names! Cool ones!”

“I don’t need to be anything to you. I just want my life to mean more to you than my death.”

“You are playing a dangerous game without even a glimpse of the rule book.”

“I’ve never been terrified of death, til he set his sights on you.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” “Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask that in this situation.”

“Where’s your shoe?” “The giant mud puddle in the road demanded a sacrifice.”

“Love at first sight doesn’t exist.” “Then how else do I describe the feeling I got when I first saw you?” “You…love me?” “Apparently not, according to you.”

“A fate worse than death….” “They’re burnt cupcakes.”

“White paint has more color than your face.”

“Why is there a dragon in my fridge?” “It was hot.”

“Touch **, and you’re dead.”

“I am the law.”

“Do that again and I’ll throw you out the window. Wait, what are you doing?” “Checking how high the drop is; seeing if it’s worth it.”

“I’d rather have you hate me than loose you entirely.”

“I have a mission but don’t know what it is.” “Well that sounds incredibly counterproductive.”

“I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties in your life.” “You are the worst at this comforting thing.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this but I’m quite petite.” “Really? I had no idea in our twelve years of friendship that you’re shorter than I am.”

“But what is power?” “Loyalty.”

“Don’t you sign to me in that tone.”

“I’m with him/her for better or worse.” “It’ll probably be worse.” “I knew that the day I met him/her.”

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you." "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

"C'mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you."

"You're not as bad as everyone says you are."

"The only one who gets to kill you is me."

“blood loss”? well it’s not lost. I know exactly where it went. right over there.”

“How the mighty have fallen!” “It’s a dropped chocolate bar, stop being dramatic.”

“Shit, we’re gonna die” “Now I don’t want to hear that negative attitude, look on the bright side!” “Yay! We’re gonna die! Woo!”

“How do you do it?” “How do I do what?” “Pretend you are ok.” “I’m not pretending.” “Yes, you are. Every single day and it breaks my heart.”

“Hey, so I know things are pretty f**** shitty right now but I need you to breathe for me.” “Wha-wh-wh-” “You’re having a panic attack. It’s gonna be ok. Just breathe with me.”

“Please, my arms—I can’t wipe my tears, don’t let them see!”

"Smiles are contagious!" "Don't worry, I'm vaccinated."

"I don't want to get involved, it's too risky." "Please do it for me, you're the only one I can turn to." "It's not worth it. You really want to lose everything? 'cause I don't."

"Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?" "No"---a long pause---"actually yes, at Christmas time"

"There is a reason I go through that door first, It's to make sure everyone else walks back out"

“I can’t leave you here!” “You can and you will.”

"OH! Are you alright? Are you alright?" "Apart from being trapped under here, and maybe suffering from broken bones and embarrassment beyond what I am capable of handling. . . I'm dandy, why do you ask?"

Oh no, are you alright? You're covered in blood!" "Yes, it's yours, Now will you please let me take you to the hospital?"

"What did love ever do anything for anyone anyway?"

"What the hell were you even thinking?!" "You told me not to think!"

"With love comes loss, that's part of the deal. Sometimes it hurts, but in the end, it was all worth it. There's no greater gift than love."

“'Temporary stitches' all stitches are temporary if you have a pair of scissors and aren’t a coward" "What do you....that better not mean what I think you mean......" "Am I just talking about sewing stitches or sutures too? Maaayyybe?" "NO! Absolutely not!"

"I made the calculations, and boy am I bad at math."

"It'll be over soon, I promise."

"Working together again, just like old times." "Well, not just like old times."

"I am many things but not your enemy."

Action Prompts:

Forehead kisses

Palm/hand kisses

Dramatic rain scene

Touching foreheads

Jealousy

Dancing

Last stand

Christmas/Life Day celebration

mistletoe

Accidental hand touch

First date

First kiss

Spending time with the family

Bad day cheering up scheme

Pranks

Going to a pet shop

Going to the movies

Always go after the girl

soft spoken person has loud, unnerving scream.

Lullabies

Nightmares

injury

amnesia

pretend/mistaken to be married/in a relationship

cooking

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drafthorsemath · 1 year

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TBB and Clones HCs - What kind of horse would they have?

Thank you to @staycalmandhugaclone for listening to my entire ramble about this and encouraging me to post it.

I don’t actually do a lot of AU HCs but this was fun. I’ve definitely thought about this in depth. Here are my HCs for what kind of horse these clones would have (breed, color, name, and horsenality) and what kind of horse sports they might be into. You’ll see terms like left brain (a horse that is naturally confident), right brain (a horse that is naturally unconfident), introvert (in literal terms, this would rather stand around than move quickly unless they feel danger), and extrovert (the horse not only wants to move their feet, their instinct drives them to frequently).

Wrecker

This big boy needs a draft horse or cross. It's only fair. He gets a black Percheron. And as Wrecker is pretty extroverted, he needs a left brain extroverted horse who can keep up with him. This horse likes chasing cows and going on trail rides. But don't let their size fool you. Like Wrecker, this horse is an absolute locomotive when it comes to getting somewhere fast. When cow working or the trail ride is over though? Wrecker takes the saddle off and makes sure his equine partner gets plenty of time to roll and shake off. Horse's name: Hector.

Echo

This smart boy needs a horse who can be patient at the mounting block so he can get on safely and is comfortable with vocal cues in addition to the usual stuff. Echo prefers riding Western because he can get away with using just one hand on the reins. He definitely rides a left-brain introverted horse. One that will not take off with him for no good reason, but that is steady. Echo also prefers a shorter horse who is easier to get off of due to his cybernetic legs. This horse can walk for miles while Echo enjoys nature with his equine companion, but is also willing to book it when asked. Echo’s horse is a chunky, buckskin Quarter Horse named Blaster.

Hunter

Hunter is a pretty sensitive soul. He likes to take his time and consider things without jumping in too much and he definitely needs a horse who can think without jumping into trouble. Like Echo, he gets a left-brain introvert. Now Hunter is canonically the shortest of the group (except Omega) so he doesn't want to have to climb onto some super tall horse like Wrecker can. Hunter can handle some height, but too much is annoying, especially when he has to get on and off a lot from the ground during trail rides or camping trips. Hunter has a palomino Tennessee Walking Horse which is perfectly suited to his horsemanship goals. While they may often be found in the show ring under stressful circumstances, Hunter prefers their natural gait and refuses to show his horse. That’s not for him. He finds it easy to ride outside for hours at a time. Hunter takes his horse deer hunting, dragging a deer carcass home after a successful morning in the woods. His horse’s name is Zip.

Tech

So Tech might be a chatterbox at times (and legitimately, I could listen to him all day about anything), but he's also a quiet thinker and can spend a lot of time to himself. When he's taking in new information, especially learning about an animal without the assistance of a data pad, he's going to be good at watching his horse and he learns how to read his horse quickly. He is a very quick study when it comes to horsemanship and so he would do well with a right brain introverted horse. This horse needs someone to take their time with them and form a strong bond, so when something scares them, their person will be right there to help them calm down. Tech notices the small things that bother his horse before they become really big things. This kind of horse that needs a minute to think and a person who they can trust. Tech believes in himself and his horse latches on to that and so together they can do just about anything. Of all the batchers, I think Tech would be the most drawn to classical dressage for its elegance and precision. Tech’s horse is a dark bay Dutch Warmblood named Descartes.

Crosshair

I firmly believe Crosshair masks a lot of his emotions with snark, but I think underneath it all, he is very emotional. I think he would also do well with a horse that has emotions brewing underneath it all, so like Tech, I think he would do well with a right-brain introverted horse. This horse doesn't want to go fast and is naturally unconfident, but Crosshair takes the time to quietly reassure his horse that things will be fine. With time, they form a strong bond and Crosshair gets into mounted archery (obviously). This once nervous horse who wanted to stand around scared is now one that can be ridden at speed through a course with Crosshair hitting each target. And in between each target he discretely pets his horse letting them know that they're doing great. Because Crosshair knows what it's like to need some validation, he's not going to let his horse down. Crosshair surprises people and so does his horse. Crosshair’s horse is a Clydesdale named Arrow. They show up at mounted archery competitions and all these people with tiny, fast horses get blown away by this absolute tank of a beast running through the course as they kick everyone's ass.

Omega

Omega got into horse riding like her brothers, but she’s not one to get on some tall horse. Instead, she gets a left-brain extroverted Fjord pony named Beatrice. This draft pony is full of sass. I mean, you could not possibly put more sass into said pony. Omega really wants to work on mounted archery like Crosshair, but initially Beatrice loved jumping the short fences along the path of the course and then just flat out galloped through any field before coming to a screeching halt. Hunter thought getting Omega a pony instead of a big horse would be a good idea, but it was not. However, Omega loves Beatrice and is learning a lot in the process. She has gotten good at warm-up exercises where she asks her pony to speed up and slow down and speed up and slow down. This way she is teaching Beatrice not to run off with her, but also promises Bea that they can still go fast sometimes. Recently, Crosshair started taking Omega to the mounted archery course to practice because they discover that Beatrice does better with another horse around.

Rex

Rex really wanted to try dressage. He really did. He like the elegance and felt like the athleticism required would be perfect for him, but his horse could not handle the mental collection needed for dressage. Rex should have known better with a horse named Chaos. Instead of dressage, Chaos wants to go fast and jump high. Chaos is a right-brained extroverted Friesian / Arab cross. This horse is naturally unconfident and his instincts say “go fast.” At first, this combination resulted in Rex feeling like he was having a heart attack every time he rode, but as time went on, he was able to help Chaos be more confident, and especially be more confident in Rex himself. Once Rex fully sees that his horse is just following his instincts, he’s very understanding. He takes his time during warm-up so by the time they get to the real work, Chaos is much more calm. Rex decides that show jumping would be a better outlet and Chaos excels at it. They get to go fast and jump high as a team of two and while it’s not originally what he planned, Rex loves flying high.

Fives

Oh Fives. Fives is really into cross country. He has a gray, left-brain extroverted Holsteiner horse. This tall leggy horse is incredibly athletic and will take on the cross country course at full speed whether or not Fives is still on his back part way through. Fives loves the adrenaline and manages to stay on each time, but it’s not what one would call a pretty ride. Fives originally named his horse Uno, as in “the one and only,” but Kix started calling him OhNo and it stuck. Despite their absolute insane rides, Fives does actually care about OhNo and puts in the time to be a better rider. He knows that it can’t be fun to have a human flopping around your neck and back while jumping down a hill and into the water, and so he spends a lot of time both in the riding arena and on trails working on his balance.

Kix

Kix has a liver chestnut and white Sugarbush Draft horse. This big, steady horse is a left-brain extrovert. Unlike the more extreme extroverts on this list, Kix’s horse is find just trotting around all day. As long as he’s moving. They love trail riding and while they don’t compete, Kix is trying his hand at the discipline of reining. Kix named his horse Spike, but Fives calls him FreckleButt. When the group all go trail riding together, Kix and Spike bring up the rear, making sure everyone is together and okay. Sometimes for fun, Kix paints the red medic symbol on Spike’s hind end. As a result, the boys got him a saddlepad with the medic symbol embroidered on it.

Cody

Cody has an immaculately trained chestnut Oldenburg that he sometimes doesn’t know what to do with. This left-brained introvert mare was a schooling horse, but at this point in her life, she’s tired of teaching people how to ride. She instead prefers to be fed when she’s not snoring loudly in her sleep. When Cody got her, he was determined to ride her regularly, but instead he has had to take his time to get to know her and win her over with a lot of undemanding time (mostly involving taking her to the best grazing area on the farm). This horse is the epitome of “horses don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” Because of the time he spent with her, she will only put in effort for him now. If anyone else tries to ride her, she refuses to move or will lay down. Cody is mostly working on his freestyle riding, but after each ride he makes sure she gets a good brushing, some friendly scratches on her shoulders, and plenty of snacks. Her favorites are molassas cookies and Cody knows better than to show up to the barn without plenty of cookies and an apple. This horse’s name is Gloria and to Cody, she’s worth her weight in gold.

Jesse

Jesse has a buckskin Paint horse who has some markings that absolutely do not match his tattoo, but he's convinced otherwise. While Jesse originally got into horses because he wanted to run barrels, he actually really enjoys liberty work. His mare is a right-brained extrovert and she needs to run. While her previous owner and trainer had her run barrels thinking it got her energy out, it’s clear now to Jesse that it just gets her more worked up. To take the pressure to perform off, Jesse started spending most of his time doing online and liberty work. While he thought he would love riding and they sometimes go on a nice ride through the field, he spends most of his time teaching her tricks. He likes the feeling that his horse can be running around without a halter or lead rope on and still wants to be with him and play. Whenever he arrives on the farm, she runs to him the moment she sees him. Jesse’s horse’s name is Venatrix and he frequently lets her steal carrots out of Fives’ stash for OhNo.

Howzer

Howzer has a Swedish Warmblood named Lucy. This right-brained introvert is very unconfident and very introverted. When he first got her, she would really rather just stand in her stall and be left alone. She possibly comes from a difficult past, but it’s hard to say. She is, however, a good equine match for Howzer. He wants to do right by her. He’s not going to just throw on a saddle and go. He spends a lot of time standing around in her vicinity without asking much of anything. This turns into doing online work and going for walks together outside. As soon as she shows she’s worried about something, he backs off so she doesn’t feel pressure. It doesn’t take long before Lucy realizes that he’s a different kind of horse owner than those of her past. She rapidly bonds to him after this and as he’s able to ride more, Howzer is also interested in dressage, like Tech. Lucy likes this discipline as well because it isn’t too fast and there is a lot of quiet communication with the rider. As they begin to trust each other, Howzer is able to ask for more from her and she is able to expand her bubble of comfort.

Gregor

When Gregor decided to get a horse, Rex joked and said he should get a mule instead. Gregor rolled his eyes a little bit, but within a week he brought Petunia home. Like any mule, this Belgian Draft Mule has a lot of opinions. She’s a left-brain introvert who values her downtime. She is incredibly sure-footed and Gregor loves riding through the mountains with her. She also enjoys cow working and Gregor gets a kick out of seeing her big ears pinned at the cows who don’t move out of her way fast enough. While she can be very slow, she definitely gets into her groove around cows.

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