#innocentmanwithabounty

[unyieldingvalxr]

@innocentmanwithabounty (thanksgiving comedy hour)

"LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT THING?!!!" Sammy exclaims. "You sure you didn't just go and whack a moose? Good grief. How are we ever going to find a way to COOK this?"

[kaengeru]

@innocentmanwithabounty   /   Missed.

   "Oh, piss off ya baby, ain't my fault ya can't hit shit," Enya says, leaning forward with hands firm on her hips. Most of her tone is aggressive teasing, but now he's trying to actually rile her up. Sore loser.

   True as it was that handguns were far from her best skill, she had a number of years of experience making them work in her own way. "'Sides, ya don't gotta hit tha center fer a shot t'count." Which might also give him more points, but she was definitely better at not hitting the center.

   In any case, despite how she eyed his rifle earlier, Enya was far more excited to get some shotgun play in. That was something she excelled in, and would totally kick his ass with.

[moretreasurewithinarchive]

@innocentmanwithabounty​

“You wanted to see me?” The young man asked, approaching his girlfriend’s brother. “What’s up?”

[bonnie-barstow-of-flag]

“The gods of justice spoke and I got what I deserved.” Vin grinned and then winced as he slowly flexed his heavily bandaged arm. "You've told me half-a-dozen times not to go jumpin' from roof to roof and I didn't listen. Now I went and smashed up my arm...." --InnocentManWithABounty

Had common sense fallen into a pit of extinction from which it would never recover among the male FLAG agents? Or did they all have the same compulsion towards attempting to fulfill their death wishes? Perhaps, they figured that she gave stern discourses just to hear the sound of her own powdery-soft voice.

A pang of fear had rippled through her slender features when she had been told of his trip to the hospital. Her instinct had been to immediately rush over to make sure he was okay.

The brunette stands before him now with her arms bared into the formation of an x  over her chest. She allows her attentive turquoise hues to denote his injuries as he speaks. The cybernetic technician barely resists the urge to roll those very same orbs at his explanation.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop? Had he been ripping pages out of Michael’s notebook again. It irritated her to no end that her warnings had once more gone unheeded as if, she hadn’t voiced them at all.

Yes,Vin probably did deserve to suffer the consequences that accompanied his acts of stupidity. She wished it hadn’t been in the form of a broken arm but a fractured bone is miles better than death. “Let me ask you this,” she starts coolly, “what the HELL were you thinking?” Lord. If anyone had ever made recordings of every string of words she had ever spoke in the entirety of her life-time, one would almost come to believe that ‘what the hell were you thinking’ happened to be her catchphrase. It so oft departed her lips she had long ago lost count of its usage. Deploying her hand she lays a soft swat upon his good arm.“You could have died out there! Then what?” The brunette demands. Dead agents weren’t nearly as helpful as the living. She shudders at the thought that she could have been planning his funeral right now. 

[detectiverickitubbs]

Who You Callin’ Fish?

@innocentmanwithabounty continued from X

Considering the fact she’d been drugged and had sprouted fins in the past hour, Tubbs was having a hell of a day. Castillo would listen to whatever tale she’d resignedly spin, though she isn’t certain there could be any safe bets with this one. It was too wild for even her to believe and she was the one living it! Lord, he was probably going to mandate a sanity maintenance period on her behalf!!! The worst part is, she couldn’t blame him. She’d probably do the same in his place. She all but visualize the face he’d shoot in her direction.

But right now, she couldn’t concentrate on what lay even twenty minutes ahead. She had to focus on the question being imparted by her friend. “You might still find the syringe and have it sent in for testing...” She muses aloud. Legba’s men weren’t always the most careful. Tubbs’s eyes squint shut trying to recollect with clarity the moments before her world went dark. “The liquid was clear. He... he might have smuggled it in from Hati.” Could the same concept applied to holy water also apply to things used for heinous purposes? Ricki reached further back in the Rolodex of stored memories trying to recount the moment she had inspected Legba’s casket. Had there or had there not been a vile or container of so-called mystic water pressed to his chest. While internally, fingertips grab to reach it, they fall terribly short. Maybe there had been or maybe there hadn’t. Only probing Sonny’s memories might spark something- recognition or denial. 

“You know something, pal?” Tubbs starts in the casual kinda tone she’d use on Crockett, Inez, Lar, Gina, Trudy, or Stan, her tale dipping in and out of the water. “I just might have more horsepower than the Ferrari with these babies.”  It's a joke she hopes Vin can appreciate. Her face flushes with mild embarrassment as she kicked about trying to feel for her actual legs beneath the scales but could only wriggle one solid mass. That’s gonna be a real problem. Can’t be a gumshoe if you can’t even wear a nice set of Louis Vuittons courtesy of impound, much less even one. Worse still, that means no driving. What would become of her beloved COUPE? This chain of thought could have sprawled on for eternity. Mannnnn, having scales ceased to be advantageous around mile marker twelve and the numbers were only headed upwards!!! 

“Yeah. You ever see anything like this.” Pushing her fingers through the water she pulls up freshly departed scales and places them by his feet. “Out? But I...” A longwise glance is cast towards the predicament. “If this chlorinated water is bad for me, what in the world will the air do? Won’t I?” Tubbs swallows sharply, motioning with her hands a floundering flopping about of a fish know it's about to die unless it refinds water. Her brows furrow thick with the internal conflict brewing about like a hurricane just waiting to gather enough strength to strike. “I can’t walk..” Ricki lamely points out, though her hands clutch tightly to him as he strove to lift her out of the pool. Waterlogged fins probably weigh more than two measly legs. 

The first brushes of fresh air against her figure gave way to violent shivers that seemed to trickle down one vertebre after the next. The blouse pressed tightly against her skin felt more like ice than actual comfort. “Vin? Is... is it supposed to be so cold?” She questions, her voice hollow. Her mind was telling her that the Miami sun is baking down on them and yet, the blood in her veins can’t recognize it’s warmth. Her face pressed to the fabric of his shirt as she strives to keep her head of sopping dark curls held upright. Vulnerable was definitely NOT a good shade on her and she heavily despises it. But she has no choice, she is at the mercy of whatever Legba injected her with. “Think this is the injec....injection talking?” 

[truerlifebegin]

@innocentmanwithabounty gets to see a mermaid~

Pushing herself upward in the small tank, the mermaid brought herself closer to eye level with the human on the other side. It was strange. Usually, people didn’t come this close. They were too confused or distrustful. But this one seemed different. 

Pressing her hand gently to the glass, she gave a small smile. 

[timeguardiansarchive]

Rescue at the Battle of Shiloh 1862 ~Iris & Vin: Innocentmanwithabounty

@innocentmanwithabounty  Plotted starter.

The raucous churning noise of the Mothership’s turbines settles into a dark hush as if, the hulking machine was taking an long awaited sigh. Dark lashes pry open from the temporary spell of slumber that accompanied the harshness of the journey through time and space.

Iris internally muses that if she were subjected to more of this insane Rittenhouse scuttling around, she’d develop a real whip-lash and distaste for all things history. Worse still, the young brunette was homesick. Maybe not for her physical home but definitely for her parents. 

The door slowly slides open, revealing another unfamiliar place. She is dragged out into the light by the escorting Rittenhouse agent. The ground is soft, mildly mushy beneath her feet. It must have rained recently in the dense thicket. And the air is rife with the static of a building conflict. But what it was had yet to dawn on her.

She swivels, allowing her gaze to soak up every detail of the world around her. Again, Iris is lost without hope of a compass or way to reach out to her beloved father. In the distance, there are myriads of voices and unrecognizable sounds.  Behind her, there seems to be the faintest bubble of a waterway. Was it a River? She doesn’t know. Its too far away from her present location to see. Between thick branches canvas tents flopped in the hushed breeze. It is in the direction of the tents she is being dragged.

 “We’re going to be here a few days. You might as well get comfortable in this tent,” the gruff voice totting her about mentions as she is unceremoniously shoved in. Iris felt her heart plunge from its position in her chest down to the shoes on her feet. Days? How many more days must she endure being dragged about like a rag doll to suit Rittenhouse’s needs? She just wanted to be reunited with her father and to go home! 

When the agent left, Iris stubbornly peered outside. Her eyes catch on a commotion past the guards standing resolutely at the entrance. 

Men in strange looking uniforms began to amass, rushing about in preparation of something in the woods around them. Gathering guns, horses, weapons, and ... were those canons?! They had to be! Fragmented pieces start coming together. She is in another war-zone. This was not Birmingham, England in 1940 nor her home in 2019. No. Things here were far more dated. She doesn’t have much time to put the pieces together for a faint pop - pop - pop followed by a few deeper bellows filled the air. 

Curiosity gets the better of her and Iris clambers out the back. It was now or never to make her perilous escape. Iris had to find the Mothership and then a way to get home. Sure, she didn’t know how to control it but how hard can it be? With every step ventured forwards, Iris played out scenarios in her head. Most of them didn’t end well which, only served to motivate her more. 

She pushes further into the woods. Corrilian hues constantly on the lookout for the odd shaped orb that had brought her here. Come on, Mothership. Where are you? I know you’re out here.

However, it refused to be found. Instinct compels her to plod forwards in the direction of the voices. Maybe someone had been fortuitous enough to find it for her. It was the only option she had left. 

The closer she got the louder the voices became. The pops and bellows which, had once been hushed now erupted like a thunderstorm all around her. A small sudden spray of hot lead struck the earth and trees surrounding her. A series of rippling growls are unleashed from varying distances and they rage viciously through the air. Some canon balls roar over head and some crash violently into the ground near her feet. Death, destruction, and agony follow in their wake. Wailing screams pierce the steady patter of her heart. Tears coat the brims of her eyes as Iris thought, surely this must be what hell is like!

Blindly she ambles around in search of a safety-net. Feeble porcelain fingers push upwards to cover her battered ears against the onslaught of suffering enveloping her. Following the direction of the nearest soldiers around her, she blindly slips to safety behind an embankment. Arms cover her head of frazzled curls. Iris tries to make herself as small as possible. Regret, like a terrible cough, lodges in the space of her lungs, weaving into the very fabric of her muscles.

“Dad? I... if you’re out there, I just want to go home!” She laments aloud, not really expecting anyone to see her. Eyes rapidly bat for she is too afraid to entirely close them. Her back is pressed defeatedly into the moist dirt. Time traveling was supposed to be a fun fantasy that Hollywood liked to turn into movies- not whatever fresh inferno this was! Iris adamantly wished she had never heard of the likes of Rittenhouse or the Mothership!

[coalessscence]

"When did Hell Begin for you?"--To Ezra from...honestly Vin probably because they're canonly the closest.

send this to hear about a time that made my muse losefaith in humanity // ACCEPTING

a campfire flickering against an empty desertsky punctuates the low  sound of vin's   voice,stark   against   crickets and  swirling,  distantbreezes. the sandy, packed ground still radiatesheat from the midday sun hours before, and thenow mostly set source of light sinks away fromview in the horizon. ezra blinks against a fewstray particles of earth caught on the gentle breeze,which will no doubt pick up to a stronger wind overnightwith no buildings or towns nearby to obstruct it, as heconsiders this question in full silence.

ezra is not a person who says very much. talks a lot,of course- some might say he has never stopped talkingsince he was born. but talking and saying aren’t the samething. he can talk for hours without really saying anythingat all, and he imagines vin knows that. in a way, that’scommon ground for them- opposite approaches to the sameproblem.

but they’re the only two out here, marring a perfectdesert landscape with their supplies and themselves,and there’s no need for performance. there’s no oneto impress. there’s no one to keep up an appearancefor. that’s not to say that ezra might not choose to doall of those things for one of the seven at any giventime- not to suggest he wouldn’t choose to do all ofthose things when he was alone. but today, he doesn’tfeel like he has to. he doesn’t feel like he wants to. andmost importantly, he doesn’t think that he can even if heshould desire.

it was supposed to be simple enough; taking a messageover to eagle bend that could not be trusted to telegraphoperators whose alliances were unknown. a day or two’shard ride at best, and technically a one man job, but chrisdoesn’t like to let his men go out alone, and ezra hadwanted to shop for a new jacket to replace the one mostrecently riddled with bullets. ezra and vin had set out, andall had seemed well at first- until they were passing a raregrove of trees and preparing to let their horse rest and drinkat a nearby water source. that was when the ambush happened.

they had made it out mostly unscathed, but not entirely so.a scratch here, a shallow slice from a knife there, a bruise,a cut- they both looked the part but likely would live justfine and make it home on schedule.

or at least, that’s what ezra had thought until he tried to puthis full weight on his throbbing right leg and opened hiseyes a second later to see fluffy clouds overhead and vin’squestioning face inching into his line of sight.

it’s not a particularly dangerous wound, but also not a pleasantone. there had been a fair amount of blood loss, and withvirtually no proper means of sterilization, infection is a highlikelihood. after some amount of discussion (which mostlyconsisted of ezra’s insistence that he would be just fine toride home now, and vin’s refusal to base any decisions about their collective well-being on anything ezra claimsabout his current state of health), they had agreed to waitthe night out and see how they felt in the morning.

there’s a long silence between vin’s question and any signof response from ezra, as he calculates the meaning of thequestion, what reasons vin might have to ask it, and whatangles he could work by choosing to respond in a certain way.but regardless of whether it was the quiet of night, the company,the exhaustion of the day, or the mild buzz of alcohol he drankto take the edge off of some physical ailments, he can’t think ofany gain for vin and finds the idea of spinning a typical tale tocement his desired image daunting. he swallows, adjusting theway he leans against his saddle, studying the ground ahead ofhim in thought as the changing fire light splashes onto his features.

❝there were… a few unsavory situations when i was a boy,❞ hefinally admits, at a point when vin may well have had the rightto begin wondering if he would respond at all. ❝certain peoplei spent a tenure with while mother was busy with things out oftown. i don’t know if i’d be so bold as to equate them with hell.merely precursors to the harshness of reality, i suppose.❞ hetakes one more tiny sip from his flask before screwing thecap back on and moving slowly to re-insert it into his brocadevests’ pocket. ❝no, i suppose i would have to give such a grandtitle to the war.“ he shudders, though hardly visibly, at thememories of it. ❝of course, i was hardly more than a boyat that time anymore than before.❞

he looks into the fire, refusing to allow his gaze to land on vinat a time like this. ❝were you misfortunate enough to witnessthe war first hand, mr. tanner?❞