Inspired by the apple scene in True Grit (2010), which I watched today with my friends. I thought the cinematography was stunning, as well as the story and the female lead. I think I have a crush on LaBoeuf now, unfortunately, and I started shipping him and Mattie like crazy. I usually hate facial hair, but oh my god, Matt Damon was hot as LaBoeuf. So fail in the beginning, but halfway through, his heart of gold came in and asdaljdsakjdlajdskjd. Damn.

^Obviously written a while back, but my stance remains firm. Though I'm not much of a movie person, True Grit will probably be one of my favorites for a long time.

Disclaimer: Do not own True Grit.


When Mattie was picking out apples for her adventure, she picked them out, like with everything else she did, carefully. Fingers held gently, but firmly on the waxy red skin, she scanned the fruit with a brief discerning eye.

Bruised.

Too waxy.

Too mushy.

Rotten.

Her fingers nimbly picked through the apples with the same lightness and ease in her heart that morning. After all, all young girls dream of adventure, and her adventure would include the swift, sweet deliverance of justice to her father's murderer. And in addition to monetary funds, she would be contributing provisions to her business partner. Yes, this would be a grand adventure indeed.

And when she saw LaBoeuf over her shoulder, mocking her from the other side of river with that cocky, insipid, Texan smile of his, Mattie went livid. How dare he insult her? How dare he ruin her plans? How dare he ruin her justice for some senator and his dog?

Her eyes as red as the apples tucked in her flour sack, she tucked her hand into the bag and let fly, forcing Little Blackie across the river, spluttering and swimming behind her horse.

And when she felt the ground under her once more, she stood. She was cold and she was wet. Water dripped down her face and rained from the brim of her hat. She probably looked like a poor imitation for a proper young lady, but still, she stood with her head tall and proud just as she was taught to. Feeling Rooster's amused smirk, she gave a brief nod of her head before turning to glare at LaBoeuf.

LaBoeuf. His ancestors were French from that last name. How many Texan Rangers were French, she wondered. Were they all as stupid and pompous as him? As ignorant and insolent as him to ruin a girl's mission for justice just for a bounty? To make her waste vital provisions?

Indignation boiled in her stomach. She regretted ever being taken in by those spurs or the profile of his face.

Hat still dripping—possibly—hopefully on those blasted spurs of his—she marched straight up to the still-stunned Texas Ranger and looked him dead in the eye.

"I wasted an apple on you. I hope you're worth it."

And with that, she marched back towards Little Blackie.