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solidaritytek · 1 year

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I said I'd post my Ranchers playlist at some point, so here we go! (I may end up adding songs as time goes by, but I'm happy with it right now so!)

Cover art by the lovely @lunarcrown!

I'm including a tracklist below the cut with lyrics I feel fit the boys! <3 (Some of them may be a little angsty, I'm sorry </3)

Trevor - Jordy

I need somebody to want me To love me, to need me like that Somebody to hold me To touch me, to see me like that Somebody to want me (want me) To love me (love me), to need me (need me) like that (like that) Somebody to hold me (hold me) To touch me (touch me), to see me (oh) like that

Trevor You're everything I want but better You're making me feel like I don't know me I wish that somebody would love me, like that

Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons

But it was not your fault but mine And it was your heart on the line I really fucked it up this time Didn't I, my dear? Didn't I, my dear?

CHRONICALLY CAUTIOUS - Braden Bales

So if I'm honest I think I'm beginning to question how much I want this Overloaded serial stressor, I'm sitting nauseous Panic on a loop in my head, I'm chronically cautious How can I get off this?

Ghost - Halsey

You say that you're no good for me 'Cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve And I swear I hate you when you leave I like it anyway

Love Is A Weapon - Letdown.

But we've got love drunk Someone's going crazy Doesn't happen, baby Let me out my mind Can't have another moment In another moment Running in a whirlwind Take me back You know my love's a weapon

My Oh My - Camilla Cabello ft. DaBaby

A little bit older A black leather jacket A bad reputation Insatiable habits He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe Yeah, I said, "If you kiss me I might let it happen"

Why Do I - Set It Off, Hatsune Miku

So why do I still wake up, two in the morning Cold sweat, screamin' your name? Why do I get drunk and look at your pictures? Why do I feel this way? Why do I do this to myself? And why do I even try? You don't, you don't So baby, why do I?

Need You Now (How Many Times) - Plumb

How many times have you heard me cry out "God please take this"? How many times have you given me strength to Just keep breathing? Oh I need you God, I need you now

Curses - The Crane Wives

There's still cobwebs in the corners And the backyard's full of bones Won't you stay with me, my darling When this house don't feel like home? When this house don't feel like home

Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust The devil's after both of us Ooh, lay my curses out to rest Make a mercy out of me

better off without me - Matt Hansen

I guess love isn't what I thought We were blinded by the hope we got We were slow dancing in the dark Do you remember, remember?

Fell so deep, we couldn't see Maybe we were never meant to be One day I'll just be a memory, and you'll be better Better off without me

Canary in a Coal Mine - The Crane Wives

But I still hold out hope that maybe someday I'll be worth more than all the silence left in my way And when you break the surface oh without me Please don't return me to the dark of all the memories, yeah

Sick of Losing Soulmates - dodie

We will grow old as friends I've promised that before, so what's one more in our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end? Time and hearts will wear us thin So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

What the hell would I be without you? (What the hell would I be?) Brave face, talk so lightly, hide the truth (Hide the truth)

'Cause I'm sick of losing soulmates So where do we begin? I can finally see you're as fucked up as me So how do we win? Yeah, I'm sick of losing soulmates Won't be alone again I can finally see you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

Lover Boy - The Front Bottoms

Oh You got me acting like a tough guy Trying to be cool You got me acting like a tough guy And now I'm missing you Oh

And now I'm acting like a lover boy Trying to be smooth, smooth, smooth

Now I'm missing you

Nine in the Afternoon - Panic! At The Disco

When it's nine in the afternoon Your eyes are the size of the moon You're good 'cause you can, so you do We're feeling so good

Back to the street, down to our feet Losing the feeling of feeling unique Do you know what I mean? Back to the place where we used to say "Man, it feels good to feel this way"

under the weather - CORPSE

Would it kill you just to smile? At least once in a while? Leave your fuckin' town Live just in the now

Baby, I got a fever I'm not feeling too well I'm so under the weather I'm so under your spell

The Love We Stole - Bear's Den

I was bawling In some things you just can't help from falling And all of your wisdom only makes me feel like I I don't deserve the freedom To love with my own heart To care for another more than myself To love with my own heart To care for another more than myself

I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers - Fall Out Boy

Do you remember the way I held your hand Under the lamp post and ran home this way? So many times I can close my eyes

The truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do to you The truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do to you

Circles - Post Malone

Maybe you don't understand what I'm going through It's only me What you got to lose? Make up your mind, tell me What are you gonna do? It's only me Let it go

Seasons change and our love went cold Feed the flame 'cause we can't let it go Run away, but we're running in circles Run away, run away

If I Killed Someone For You - Alec Benjamin

Would you love me more (Would you love me more) If I killed someone for you? Would you hold my hand? (Would you hold my hand?) They're the same ones that I used When I killed someone for you

Would you turn me in (Would you turn me in) When they say I'm on the loose? Would you hide me when (Would you hide me when) My face is on the news? 'Cause I killed someone for you

I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Kurt Hugo Schneider

Love of mine Someday you will die But I'll be close behind I'll follow you into the dark

No blinding light Or tunnels, to gates of white Just our hands clasped so tight Waiting for the hint of a spark

If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark

Ties - Hi I'm Case

We all start off as strangers And fate will steer the way you lean I threw my caution to the wind And risked all of the dangers And there’s no wonder what that means

I’ll see the forest through the trees If they’d bother to adjust Staring through the leaves Waiting for the perfect gust

To blow away what ties us here ‘cause i need more than these wings (more than these wings) And the breeze that carried us

Hey Sexy Lady - Shaggy ft. Brian & Tony Gold

Hey sexy lady, I like your flow Your body's bangin', out of control (uh) You put it on me (that's right) Ceiling to floor Only you can make me, scream and beg for more

Wild Heart - Daughtry

Take me back To those barefoot summer nights Take me back Running down those highway lights Remember when We said, "Don't let go 'til we die"

Take me back To that fire in your eyes 'Cause I know it ain't gone too far Take me back to you and to your wild heart, yeah To your wild heart, yeah

Telepathic - STARSET

Look inside my brain You'd know what I want before I tell you Give me the words to say to make it enough Don't want your star-crossed fate You are the sun, I am the full moon Don't leave me lost in vain I can be what you want

I don't wanna let you go But I can't stand to watch this I don't wanna let you know But you can read my mind

I feel it all the time Felt it all around you You had me under spell right from the start I don't have a telepathic heart Telepathic

Re:re - NateWantsToBattle

I waited for you I waited for you I had so many chances I could never go through I pause and look back And then I lose track I spent so much time That I'm never getting back

Now I Will never get the chance To tell you

Go To Bed Angry - Set It Off, KC

So don't you walk away from me Let's settle this Rather hear you scream Than whisper shit There's no in-between Cause if we sleep in our feelings We'll never start healing

Let's not go to bed angry Taking back everything I said Baby let's not do this Baby I don't wanna go to bed angry

Look Away - Eli Lieb, Steve Grand

I’ll be okay, are you okay? Thinkin’ about the way that we left this Will I grow to regret it Watching you fade I know it’s goodbye

But I can’t look away from you I can’t look away I’m trying to face the truth from the mess that we made So we say that we tried But I can’t look away from you I can’t look away

Omae Wa Mou - Caleb Hyles, Ironmouse

The one who started rap tap tapping I can feel it on my head right now I wonder, was it you? What did I ever do? I know I wanna open up my eyes But I'm afraid I'm feelin' all the warmth of the sunset Somehow it feels sad Why won't you wait for me? 'Cause I'll just call for you all over again

Tightrope - WALK THE MOON

In my bed, I'm rolling over I'm tangling up in chains on the swings on the set on the night that we met And now the beads of water, move up the glass You speak your mind, and you can not take it back Walk a tightrope, walk a little tightrope Walk a tightrope, walk a little tightrope

It's Alright - Mother Mother

It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay You're not a monster, just a human And you made a few mistakes It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay You're not gruesome, just human And you made a few mistakes It's alright, oh It's okay, oh

Snow - Ricky Montgomery

Here we are wasting our chances for the last time And when we go, I'll try not to be so slow Skeletons, skeletons, what do we have here Hiding from the mirror? Say it once, say it twice, try to be nice Well, let's not lose ourselves

Sinners - Lauren Aquilina

You showed me feelings I've never felt before We're making enemies, knocking on the devil's door And how can you expect me not to eat When the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet?

So lets be sinners to be saints And lets be winners by mistake The world may disapprove But my world is only you And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me

I'd Do Anything - Simple Plan

This could be the one last chance to make you understand And I just can't let you leave me once again, yeah

I'd do anything Just to hold you in my arms To try to make you laugh 'Cause somehow I can't put you in the past I'd do anything Just to fall asleep with you Will you remember me? 'Cause I know I won't forget you

Tangerine - Glass Animals

But I wish I could show you more of yourself I wish I could make you somebody else But I left it way too late Are you stuck in your own ways?

I'm beggin', hands, knees, please Tangerine, come on back to me Got what I need, tangerine Do this for me Hands, knees, please Tangerine, sugar, honey, sweet Got what I need, tangerine

idfc - blackbear

'Cause I have hella feelings for you I act like I don't fucking care Like they ain't even there 'Cause I have hella feelings for you I act like I don't fucking care 'Cause I'm so fucking scared

I'm only a fool for you And maybe you're too good for me I'm only a fool for you But I don't fucking care at all, oh, oh-oh

Tell me pretty lies Look me in the face Tell me that you love me Even if it's fake 'Cause I don't fucking care at all

Gorgeous - Taylor Swift

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face 'Cause look at your face And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way But, what can I say? You're gorgeous

You should take it as a compliment That I'm talking to everyone here but you (but you, but you) And you should think about the consequence Of you touching my hand in the darkened room (dark room, dark room) If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her But if you're single that's honestly worse 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts (Honey, it hurts)

Stutter - Marianas Trench

And I'm begging you Bring me back to life I just can't stand leaving you alone tonight It's too late to go Already taken me forever just to try you know One for the money, two for the show Three to get ready, and four to go For the life of me I don't know why it took me so long to see

Rewrite The Stars - Zac Efron, Zendaya

You think it's easy You think I don't wanna run to you But there are mountains And there are doors that we can't walk through I know you're wondering why because we're able to be Just you and me within these walls But when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see That it was hopeless after all

No one can rewrite the stars How can you say you'll be mine? Everything keeps us apart And I'm not the one you were meant to find It's not up to you It's not up to me When everyone tells us what we can be How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours Tonight

Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams Oh, you're the one I want

I want to drive away with you I want your complications too I want your dreary Mondays Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

Hurricane - Fleurie

I can feel your heart hanging in the air I'm counting every step as you climb the stairs It's buried in your bones, I see it in your closed eyes Turning in, this is harder than we know We hold it in the most when we're wearing thin

Comin' like a hurricane, I take it in real slow The world is spinning like a weathervane Fragile and composed Though I am breaking down again I am aching now to let you in

For the Dancing and the Dreaming - Lizz Robinett

I'll swim and sail on savage seas With never a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves of life If you would marry me No scorching sun nor freezing cold Will stop me (on my journey, sorry!) If you will promise me your heart

And love And love me for eternity My dearest one, my darling dear Your mighty words astound me But I've no need for mighty deeds When I feel your arms around me

Young Love - Eli Lieb

'Cause this love is getting dangerous I need some more tonight Your touch is contagious You know what I need tonight I can't run and I can't hide I'll be wasted by the light I'm undone but I'm alive Don't ever wanna see the morning light

I'll Fight - Daughtry

Where you wanna go I'd love to take you there Wish that I could make the road easy I wish that life was fair Don't wanna see you cry Even when it rains And I hope you don't forget this You were born for better things

Jolene but it's gay - Reinaeiry

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you, please just leave your man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please just leave him 'cause I know you can

Now you could have your choice of men But I could never love again 'Cause you're the only one for me, Jolene

I had to have this talk with you My happiness depends on you And whatever you decide to do, Jolene

Sweet Boi - Chevy

Tall and gentle Too hot to handle You're all that I want You're all that I want Don't you know, baby Sweet as nectar Honey suckle You make every thing so fun Oh, boy My sweet boy

Magnetised - Emma Blackery

But you took me by surprise Now look into my eyes And tell me we're not magnetised And even if it's not with me I hope that you find peace Because she can't make you that happy

Because you love me And you love her too What's a boy to do? Because you love me And you love her too What's a boy to do?

Oah - Alexander Rybak

Don't go away, you're what's left of me I once believed you would save my soul But if you saw me now crying secretly Would you hold my hand and never let it go?

Come With Me - Chxrlotte

Take my hand and we'll face the end of time Let's take a stand against fate's design I said, "I can't bear to see the end" And you said, "Close your eyes and count to ten"

I knew you'd follow me to hell and fight off angels, as well You beat your wings and cast a spell, I'll run away with you And I said, "Hallelujah, " running to you "They won't find us, you and I can watch the stars fall from the sky All clothed in white, my shard of light Let's go together, we'll be free The world ends eventually, so come with me"

And after six thousand years, if the world disappears I'd fight angels and demons to find you, my dear I hear heavenly sounds in my head when you're near I'm alright now you're here

Absolutely Smitten - dodie

That girl just there, yes, she's the one With Cupid's arrow in her bum Handsome stranger, you have made her happy The first in a long time Did you just whisper in her ear? Words she only dreamed to hear? Pretty lady, look at how he's smiling I think he likes you

Soulmate Song - Carson James Argenna

Just know it breaks my heart When soulmates die ten years apart And lonely love is left to sit and wait Soulmates come by surprise Bell curve it seems extremes arise And those who beat the odds will call it fate

Seasons just come then they go away Reasons to run building everyday And if it doesn't go our way, that's okay

Yellow - Coldplay

Look at the stars Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along I wrote a song for you And all the things you do

And it was called Yellow

So then I took my turn Oh, what a thing to have done And it was all yellow

Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones Turn into something beautiful And you know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so

Wildfire - Seafret

As feelings arrange deep down inside Try describing a love you can't design More and more, every inch of me is holding on This is it, all the flames are burning strong

We are bound to each other's hearts Caught, torn and pulled apart This love is like wildfire And to my word now I'll be true I can't stop this breaking loose This love, is like wildfire Like wildfire Like wildfire

Truly Madly Deeply - Savage Garden

I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need I'll love you more with every breath truly, madly, deeply do

#team rancher #tangotek #solidaritygaming

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skyward-floored · 2 years

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Uhhhh I spent an hour writing a possible (unlikely) way the next update could go instead of doing anything useful so please just take it and enjoy the thing. Hopkins for the win.

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Twilight was asleep.

Or maybe unconscious, but Time would prefer to think of it as him being asleep.

He could almost fool himself into thinking Twilight was perfectly fine, if he ignored the bandages wrapping around his chest, and the way his face was twisted with pain even while unconscious.

How his breath seemed shallower than it should be.

Time sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes, ignoring the tiredness that pressed at them. Hyrule had worn himself out about an hour ago and was asleep on a chair nearby, and Four hadn’t returned yet from “getting some air” as he’d put it. Someone needed to keep an eye on Twilight, and Time was fully prepared to stay up all night in order to do so.

A scratching noise outside the window made him raise his head, and Time narrowed his eyes as the noise grew louder.

He stood and made his way to the window, peering out into the shadows of the recently set sun, and nearly got clocked in the face as a shadowy figure dove into the window.

He leapt out of the way and was about to yell for Hyrule to wake up when the figure threw back his hood, waving his arms in an attempt to keep him quiet.

“Shh old man, don’t wake them up!”

Time stared at the figure, now revealed to be Wild, then crossed his arms, a surge of both relief and annoyance making itself a nice home in his heart (which was certainly not beating a bit faster than normal).

“Champion,” he said in a stern voice, “have you heard of a wonderful invention called doors?”

Wild scratched the back of his neck, but shrugged, walking up to Twilight’s bedside.

“Is he any better?” he asked quietly, and Time shook his head.

“No change.”

Wild drooped and nodded, then took Twilight’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze. The rancher shifted at the touch, then blinked his eyes open, and Wild startled, obviously not having expected a response.

Twilight looked at him and smiled, and Wild swallowed.

“Hey Twi,” he whispered, and Time could see him squeeze his hand again. “I think I brought something to help, you... you wanna see it?”

Twilight nodded curiously, and Wild reached into his pouch, carefully pulling something out.

Something small. And green.

And croaky.

“What is it?” Twilight murmured, and Wild held his hands out, a little green frog perched in his palms.

“A frog,” he said, and Twilight tilted his head and stared at the little creature. The frog stared back, and if it had had eyebrows they probably would have been raised.

“You... brought me a frog?”

Wild nodded, and held the frog closer to Twilight’s face. “Yeah. I know you like animals, and Epona won’t fit up here, so... frog. I named him Hopkins.”

Twilight blinked at Wild, processing that.

“Hopkins?”

Wild nodded. “Yeah. Hopkins.”

Twilight stared.

Then his face split into a grin, his shoulders beginning to shake as a couple snickers escaped his lips.

“Hopkins. Hopkins. You named a frog... you named him Hopkins, because he— he hops, Time—”

Hopkins let out a loud croak, and Twilight broke into laughter.

Time felt his own face turn upward at the sound of it, and Wild grinned over at him as the rancher continued to wheeze with mirth. Hopkins then decided to leap out of Wild’s hands and onto Twilight’s head, which only made him laugh harder.

As Time watched him laugh, and despite the sound being wheezy and certainly nowhere near as healthy as it should sound, he felt the hope in his chest rise from where it had earlier faded.

Maybe Twilight had a chance after all.

#don’t have ANY CLUE what possessed me to write this #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu time #lu twilight #lu wild #lu hopkins #lu frog #linked universe fanfiction #writing from the floor #I just sat down and wrote this in an hour I just don’t know where it came from #Hopkins is my muse I guess???

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silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years

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I don't think I asked for a part 4 directly but better safe than sorry!

I hereby request a part of Clowning Around because I just love it so much!

But only if you want to, no pressure :D

Please and thank you! 💖💖💖

@feline17ff, I hope you realize that I would write an entire novel just for you.

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Clowning Around, Part 4

When they saw the saloon, the hero wanted to drop to their knees and weep.

Finally, they didn’t have to ride anymore. Their long, bumpy, dusty trip was over. God, their butt hurt so much.

With some difficulty, they managed to tie Ballooney’s harness to a pole, and went inside feeling raw and tired. What they wouldn’t give right now for a cold lemonade and a shower.

The tables were occupied by gruff cattle ranchers, whose suspicious gazes followed the hero’s every move.

It was only when they saw the bar, and the familiar face behind it, that the hero perked up.

“We need a new game plan,” their teammate said, as the hero settled onto a bar stool. They were dressed in a white shirt and suspenders, preparing what looked like a sarsaparilla.

“Why hello to you too,” the hero said, reaching for the peanuts on the counter. “And what do you mean by ‘new game plan’? If memory serves, we barely even had a game plan.”

“And look at how that’s been working out for us,” their teammate said. “[Villain] is more powerful than I realized. We need a better strategy.”

“What we need is to find them,” the hero said. “They could be literally anywhere in this – ”

The saloon doors banged open, and the room fell silent as the floorboards gave a menacing creak.

No. It couldn’t be. For chrissakes, it couldn’t be that easy.

The hero turned around and saw none other than the villain, wearing a black hat and (what appeared to be) a fake mustache.

They stepped inside, sending the saloon doors swinging. “Who’s the sheriff in these here parts?”

All eyes turned to the hero.

The hero sighed. “Of course.”

The villain stalked up to the hero, their boot spurs jingling along the way. “I like the pickin’s in this here town. Y’all don’t mind none if I take over, do ya?”

The hero crossed their arms. “Fine by me. Take it.”

The villain’s threatening expression fell. “Come on, [Hero]. Work with me here.”

“Why would we do that?” their teammate said from behind the bar. “What do you even want?”

“A duel, obviously. You know. Empty street. Townsfolk hiding behind locked doors. Two lone strangers with hands twitching near their holsters, ’til the clock strikes high noon.”

“Are you just a movie nerd?” the hero asked. “Is that what this is?”

Their teammate looked around. “Might explain all the historical inaccuracies in this place, if it's based off Hollywood."

The villain sighed, and rubbed at their face in exasperation. “Look. What will it take to get you to play ball?”

“How about you stop opening portals all over downtown, and surrender yourself to police custody?” their teammate suggested.

“Alright,” the villain said, flashing a small grin. “But only if [Hero] wins. If I win, I get to bring the entire city into my little worlds.”

The hero blanched, but their teammate never lost their stride. “No deal. We are not betting the safety of the whole city on [Hero]’s shooting skills.”

“You drive a hard bargain, partner. Fine then. If I win, I stop opening portals on Earth, and I only keep two people.”

They smirked, their gaze sliding between the two superheroes.

“What?” their teammate balked. “That makes no sense. Why would you even want us to stay? We – ”

“Make it only one person,” the hero said, “and you have a deal.”

For an instant, both sides looked at the hero in astonishment. Then their teammate’s face turned annoyed, and the villain wore a look of unbridled glee.

“[Hero], that’s insane,” their teammate said.

“And noble,” the villain said. “I like that. Makes for better drama.” They held out their hand. “Alright, sheriff, we have a deal.”

The hero grasped the villain’s hand. As they shook it, they were reminded of curved horns and cloven hooves.

After the villain waltzed off, seeming to have abandoned their attempts at creating a sinister atmosphere, the teammate rounded on the hero. “You can’t possibly mean to stay here with [Villain].”

The hero shrugged. “Honestly, [Teammate], I didn’t expect to make it out of these dimensions alive. If the city can finally be safe from them, then it’ll be worth it.”

They said that, but they were trying very hard not to imagine what a lifetime of living by the villain’s whims would look like.

High noon came entirely too quickly.

Part 5

#villain #hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writing #writeblr #snippet #writing snippet #villain x hero #hero x villain #noble sacrifice #not a prompt

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hopefulstarfire · 2 years

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I have more incorrect quotes for the ocs. Have at them.

Iris: What can therapy do for me that screaming in my car for thirty minutes can't? Alister: Seconded.

River: I love you. You're the best big brother. Did I ever tell you congratulations on Kaibaland? Are you doing something different with your hair? It looks nice. The-- Seto: What do you want. River: Nothing! Can't I tell you how much I love and appreciate you without you thinking there's an ulterior motive? Seto: Mhm. Sure. Ten minutes later River: …Hey, Seto, would you mind driving Mokie, Rebecca and me to the movies?…and buying our tickets and snacks-- Seto: slams his hands against the laptop I KNEW IT-

Kat: Sometimes, I feel like a loaf of bread. Kat: Everyone keeps taking a slice of me until all that's left is two crusty pieces that no one wants. And I just want to scream, "Appreciate me, damn it!" Kat: But I don't. Why? Because my mother always told me that "Nice girls shouldn't make a fuss" and now I'm a FLIPPIN' DOORMAT!

Maddox: You need to stop this jaywalking crap. Joey: Miss me with that gay shit. Maddox: What gay shit, the law!?

Yugi: Why are Kat and Bakura sitting with their backs to each other? Iris: They're fighting. Yugi: Why are they holding hands then? Iris: They get sad when they fight.

Kat: Please, I'm begging you, go the the doctor! Bakura: I'm sorry, is this our stab wound? Bakura: No. Stay out of it.

Iris: Seto has no survival skills. His need to win has replaced them. Yugi: That can't be true. Iris: calling out Hey Seto! Race you downstairs-- Seto: jumps down from a couple stories above Seto: proceeds to jump through the window, doing a superhero landing pose Seto: Seto: I won. Iris: WE'RE ALREADY DOWNSTAIRS YOU IDIOT--

Maddox: First date idea is we go out for coffee and then the date lasts the entire weekend and then we move in together by the end of the month. Rishid: By the end of the week.

Alister: We should get married. Iris: choking on her coffee We should? Alister: Yeah, because if I'm your husband I'll never be asked to testify against you in court.

At a Stevie Nicks concert Kat: What do you think she's gonna play next, Max? Pegasus: I don't know, but if it's Edge of Seventeen, back up, I need some twirling room. Song starts to play Pegasus: Ah, this is it, this is it! Back up back up back up! Pegasus: starts to twirl

Chelsea: We've never met Joeys parents. But, judging from Joey, I think it's safe to assume they're-- Chelsea: --And this is nothing against Joey, we love Joey-- Chelsea: Monstrously stupid sewer people.

Vance: to his kids and the Yugi gang This weekends safety brief; Vance: Don't add to the population, don't subtract from the population. Vance: Don't end up in the hospital, newspaper or jail. Vance: If you end up in jail, establish dominance quickly. Vance: Have a good weekend.

Before that one big gang road trip Maddox: Alright, listen up, before we go any further, I'm gonna lay down a few rules, alright? Maddox: Commandment number one; shut the hell up. Maddox: Commandment number two; there's nothing I can do about the sun! Maddox: Commandment number three; there are no more jolly ranchers! They're all gone! Maddox: Commandment number four; when we pass a billboard, please don't read it out loud. Maddox: Alright? Now, c'mon, let's get going!

Weevil: None of those words are in the bible. Kat: Psalm 119:105. "And Jesus said unto his followers, should a manlet incel attempt to mainsplain the blockchain to a girlboss, may she waste his time and yassify his blorbos." Weevil: HE DID NOT FUCKING SAY THAT.

Serenity: Why are you sitting in a circle of salt? Kat: crossing her arms Oh, my boyfriend's a vengeful demon ghost and I'm mad at him. Serenity: concerned Oh, no! Bakura: trying to ram through the invisible barrier it made You can't sit inside that barrier forever! Kat: You stop doing your blood harvests and THEN we'll talk!\

Wes: to Bakura So, just chill out. Drink a seven up. Eat a moon pie. Wes: Quit murderin' people.

Gozaburo: You are annoyingly vain. Kat: Lmao you'd be surprised at how much I actually hate myself.

Kat: What if we went to dinner…not as friends? Kaiba: As enemies? Kat:

Yugi: Is he always like this when he loses? Iris: Oh, yeah. You should have been there for the Great Jenga Tantrum. Seto: YOU BUMPED THE TABLE AND YOU KNOW IT!

Having to face off against Ziegfried Maddox: chuckles darkly Maddox: I will not be blackmailed by some ineffectual, priviledged, effete, soft penised debutante. Maddox: You wanna start a street fight with me, bring it on, but you're gonna be surprised by how ugly it gets. Maddox: You don't even know my real name! Maddox: I'm the fucking lizard king.

Bakura: holding out a diamond necklace to Kat It's not stealing; it's secret borrowing.

Joey: Have ya ever been told you can be a lil intimidatin'? Iris: Yes. Every day of my life since kindergarten.

Iris: Are you saying I'm your favorite hot mess? Alister: Actually, I'm my favorite hot mess. But you're a close second.

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expired-monster-craft-smp · 3 years

Text

Vibes Dream SMP members give off (in my opinion)

Dream

Barked at people in high school ironically but it became unironic real quick

Can’t cook very well but is good with a knife, especially at a fast pace

One of those kids who either purposely spells the first word wrong in a spelling bee to just be done with it right away or tries the hardest and manages to win (there is no inbetween for this heathen)

Bites ice cream with his teeth

Has snorted pixie stix far too many times and sneezed blue after each time

Eats bananas with the peels

Wears mismatched socks

Has taken a bite out of a pool noodle because he liked the texture and impulsively bit it (ADHD things✨😌)

Walks around looking extremely high but he’s just spacin out and stuck in his head

Dreams (lmao) in Minecraft and video games in general

Will flirt with anything that moves but has no idea how to respond to compliments

Makes fun of himself first before anyone else can

Has eaten an orange peel and it wasn’t that bad in his humble opinion

Wears khaki shorts

Eats the wax part of the baby bell cheese

Doesn’t actually know what genre his music taste is cause he vibes to everything

Georgenotfound

Picks at the skin on his lip when it’s dry so it bleeds and he tries not to give in by licking his lips often enough to the point where it became a habit

Wears velcro shoes because he doesn’t feel like tying them (he knows how, he just doesn’t wanna do it)

Eats peanut butter straight from the jar

Makes that disgusting “ants on a log” thing (celery stick filled with peanut butter topped with a row of raisins)

Can’t drink milk plain, it’s gotta have some sort of flavour

Can draw a perfect straight line but his circles look Terrible

Eats cheez-its like cereal without milk

Loves making little noises so much like he walks around his house doin chores and he’s just goin “memememenownownwnkwkshskshkshskhs”

Hates wearing socks

Coloured his tongue with highlighters because they’re non-toxic

Constantly tapping his feet and hands to a song/beat playing in his head

I can’t imagine this man using a bike of any sort, so Imma say he doesn’t know how

Can’t be licked by dogs because he’s used to being licked by his cat so it makes him uncomfortable

Can actually sing pretty well but gets real nervous in front of people so he fucks it up

Sapnap

No idea how to cook anything other than Mac and cheese please help this man

Meows at cats because he wants to confuse them and laughs Way too hard when he does (his laugh is like sunshine so I’ll allow it)

Would be fantastic at braiding hair Idk why

Gives the BEST fuckin hugs EVER

When singing, he makes noises for the instrumental parts too

Wanted to play the drums at one point

Really likes pit bulls but he’s more of a cat person so he loves them from afar

Only vaguely knows how to shave his face properly without hurting himself

Opportunities for him come up out of pure luck but mans is skilled for them so it works out well almost Always

Used to or currently has a skateboard and isn’t too bad

ALWAYS has bruises appearing everywhere for no reason, he doesn’t even know where 90% of them are from

Calls his friends twinks to jokingly bully them and gets away with it because he himself is not a twink

Gets sudden bursts of energy in the middle of the night and just shimmies around a bit to try and deal with it

Favours spearmint over peppermint

Arsonist

Banned from three (3) Dave & Busters in Texas

Badboyhalo

Washes his hands after doing literally anything

Likes the bird exhibits at the zoo (specifically the penguins)

Very good at cooking, best at soups and stews

If he painted his nails they would definitely be a baby blue

Overthinks very simple things and it makes him look less smart than he actually is

Drinks tap water

Probably prefers whiskey over beer

Knows how to tap dance a bit

Surprisingly good at taking and handling shots

Steady hands

Adds extra chocolate to hot chocolate

Plays sudoku and is really really good at it (only uses pen when he plays)

Everytime he sees a Himalayan salt lamp he NEEDS to lick it despite knowing it’s very salty and he’ll pull a face afterwards

Not great at Rock Paper Scissors

Wears sunglasses inside for no reason at all, he just,,,Does

Still has a stuffed animal from childhood perched on his bed

Probably tried his hand at archery

Tommyinnit

He has no idea how to use a baby voice on children or animals, so he just talks to them normally

Wears socks to bed

His fingers are double jointed

Always starts twitching if he stays still for too long because he’s gotta move around

His shoes and have different laces and it bothers everyone but himself

Doodles on himself in class when he’s bored or not paying attention

Has really good hearing, both with pitch and volume

Can’t eat tomato’s by themselves, it’s either gotta be in sauce form or with something else

FUCKING LOVES STRING CHEESE

Terrible handwriting

Favourite part of a slice of bread is the crust

Wants to paint his nails black to be cool and edgy but his hands are far from steady and he has no clue how to paint nails

Pretty affectionate with close friends (like Tubbo and Wilbur) off stream/camera

He likes pears for some reason

Wilbur Soot

Is constantly having to decide between leaving his hair as is or shaving all of it off

He also thinks about adding some colour but never actually does

Most tea is gross to him

Everytime he puts a breath mint thats circular in his mouth, he pretends it’s a pill and he’s taking drugs because he thinks that’s funny

He does that vacant state as a joke but that really what he looks like when he’s spacing out

Likes to aggressively flirt with his male friends but if his female friends flirt with him, he gets a bit flustered

Has probably accidentally swallowed a guitar pick

Once drank two entire jars of pickle juice

Bonks his head on anything and everything

He has broken a pair of glasses by walking face first into a pole outside

Thinks kinetic sand is fun

Has passionate arguments with others about trivial and random topics like chicken feet

Can open a beer bottle with his teeth

Would accidentally pop and swallow a bracket if he had braces

Tubbo

Hates sharp cheddar cheese

Everytime he learns a new word it’s in every sentence he says for the next week or so

Ate candle wax for a dare once

Doesn’t know how to tie a tie and will probably never learn

Wanted to do ballet at one point but decided not to

He has eaten multiple flowers for absolutely no reason other than wanting to know how they taste

Starts vibrating if he’s too excited

Used to bite his nails

ABSOLUTELY DESPISES MUSTARD

Has eaten paper and says it doesn’t taste that bad

Enjoys telling his friends how much they mean to him (this has resulted in Tommy and Wilbur crying on a few seperate occasions)

Spaces out a lot and doesn’t often pay attention to his surroundings

Gets lost inside of Best Buy’s

Likes s’mores but doesn’t properly understand how to make them

Technoblade

Learned to cook purely out of spite and found it’s actually pretty fun

Constantly getting smacked in the face by trees when walking outside

Really likes apple pie

Everytime he looks at potatoes he thinks of all the hours he spent trying to win the potato war

Starts things as a joke and gets too into it

Doesn’t like the taste of most energy drinks

Has rubbed salt and lemon juice into an open wound to just,,see how it felt (he did it once and Hated it but did it again because he forgot what it felt like)

Sometimes hates how quiet he is because everyone he knows is loud and talks over him

Despite how he is portrayed in the Dream SMP, he is extremely loyal to his friends and would kill for them

Over seasons his food because he can’t taste it otherwise

Really good balance

Doesn’t like to wear bright colours, but still enjoys wearing colours

Good at knitting

Quackity

Actually fairly quiet when off camera

Will accidentally use Spanish grammar while speaking English sometimes

Country music confuses him

Doesn’t really like kids but they really like him

Can’t dance

Hardest drugs he’s ever done is second hand smoke from a cigarette and children’s Tylenol

His favourite jolly ranchers are the red and blue ones

He uses lighters as fidget toys basically

Will have a breakdown, take a bubble bath, and call himself the self care king

Dehydrated

Wants a pet rat but he already has a cat and doesn’t wanna risk anything

Constantly questions why his main source of income is playing Minecraft with two 16 year olds

Karl Jacobs

Probably ate a spider once

Would wear those socks that are like gloves for you feet where it separates all the toes

Eats ravioli straight from the can, cold

Can answer an incredibly complex math equation fairly easily but will stumble over 12x11

Loves kids so much and speaks to them in a soft voice

Tried making ramen in a coffee pot and broke it

Drinks 2 monster energy drinks a day on average

Likes to open walnuts with his teeth but doesn’t actually eat them

The embodiment of that one John Maulany joke where he says you could spill soup in his lap and HE’D apologize to YOU

Loves physical affection so so much!!!!

If he moves his wrists in a certain way, they pop Really Loudly

Fantastic at making cookies

Fundy

Lowkey actually a furry but more on like, a cat boy level than fursuit level

Drives a Honda Civic

Likes ABBA

Adds parsley to almost anything he makes food-wise

Loves garlic bread so much, he’d commit a federal crime for it

Middle child vibes

Decent at skiing

Good at singing but isn’t terribly confident

Seems responsible at first glance but in reality he’s pretty chaotic and childish

Bad at spelling

Always cuts his nails way too short so they always feel weird/hurt

Likes bracelets and rings

Thinks pastel colours slap

JSchlatt

Despite the character he plays, he’s actually really sweet

He’s genuinely that cryptic off camera as he is on camera

Can cook but chooses not to most of the time

Would probably say “what pussy size you wear” to anyone who asks him to buy pads

Not actually as intimidating as he appears to be

Lowkey would fight a child

Shuts down when someone compliments him, often using aggression as a front because holy shit they just called him handsome and kind what the Fuck-

Jokingly says his license is suspended but in all actuality he never got his license in the first place

He has two (2) extra teeth but they don’t need to be removed so he kept them

Has a stick n poke of a stickman on his ankle he got in high school

Likes physics

This is already very long, and I still plan on adding more.

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whumpiary · 4 years

Text

whumptober 2020 | day 1: let’s hang out sometime

[content warning: discussed past self harm, referenced past abuse, mild dissociation/depersonalisation, intimate whumper]

There's something harrowing — gut-wrenching — about seeing a grown man cry. It's almost painful. Just watching someone with utter poise and dignity let it slide and crash because they don't care anymore who sees them crumble.

It's enough to make the one watching crumble a little, too. Just a little. It doesn't even matter what it is that they're crying over. A loved one in a hospital bed. A job that came to an end too quickly. A lost pet. Some spilled milk.

A boy strung up in the middle of their parlour, hands high above his head, barely standing where he's chained.

Christopher sobs silently, one hand clamped over his mouth as the other grips the edge of the desk he’s leaning against like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He had started tearing up as soon as he’d started taking away Cass’ clothing: a soft little gasp as he caught sight of the first scar, and then growing grief as more skin was exposed.

The first sob took the man over as the last scrap of clothing fell away and he’s been braced against the desk since. Shoulders softly shaking, eyes squeezed shut. As though he can barely stand to look at the boy in front of him without being overcome.

Cassius is cold. He registers it dimly. Distantly. This body, right now, isn’t his own. His senses seem to know that, relaying everything from a distance. Like hearing the radio from someone else’s car. Like watching the TV in the reflection of a window.

The cuffs around his wrists cut in and his calves are starting to burn and his lungs ache from breathing against stretched out ribs and he also doesn’t care about any of it. He’s back here again. A whole new cycle that he always knew, not so far below the surface. And every scar across his body is a road map of a world that Cass already feels like he never escaped to to begin with.

Christopher brings his hand to Cassius’ cheek and as though on muscle memory, Cass leans into it.

“My darling boy,” the older man whispers. His eyes are tear-filled still, searching Cass’ own desperately, as though for some sort of answer. Cass has none. “My darling, darling boy. What have they done to you?”

Cass holds Christopher’s gaze and for a moment wants to share with the man the entire history of the last few years. Every secret. Every truth. Give them up. Give them over. Undo. But he feels muzzled. Gagged. Like his lips are sewn shut.

There’s nothing to say. There’s everything to tell.

“I’m so sorry, Cassius,” Christopher says. His hand skirts over the scar near his shoulder, the one down his arm, the one at his ribs. Like a fucked up dot to dot. “I’m so sorry. If I had known… My god, darling boy, if I had known…”

Cass nearly laughs at that. He would have what? Bought the company just to win his contract back? Stolen him away? Killed Tucker with his bare hands? Or would he have shaken the man’s hand and given him a bonus? Asked to sit in for the next blood letting?

Christopher starts with the obvious.

“This one,” he says, pads of his fingers tracing the gnarled, raised scar along Cassius’ ribs. “Tell me about this one.”

“Got stabbed,” Cass mumbles. His mouth feels full of cotton wool. “Job went wrong. About a year in. Maybe later. Can't remember. Had to have surgery.”

Christopher sucks in a breath, deep and shuddering, covering his mouth on the exhale as another silent tear slides down his cheek. He brushes his cheek dry again with his knuckles and takes another breath to calm himself, lowering his head. For a moment, his hand sits heavy on Cassius’ hip, as though he needed it to steady himself. Cass rocks back on the balls of his feet just barely and the man’s grip seems to tighten in kind, keeping him still and close.

They stay just like that for a moment until Christopher manages to collect himself, fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose, drying his eyes with a sniff. He drops his hand from his face to trace the scar again, breath stuttering. Cass feels seasick with the the touch. A dragging back of forth over scar-tissue he can’t quite feel properly.

“The scarring is terrible,” Christopher says.

Cass closes his eyes for a moment. If he imagines enough, the cool, dry hands are warm and steady instead. They’re firm and sure instead of claiming and caressing. They’re pulling him back together, stitch by stitch. The memory is such a sacred indulgence, he has to shake his head a little to clear it again.

“Yeah, they... fucked the stitches,” he says, voice croaked. “Had to get it redone.”

Another shaking breath. Another sniff. Cass keeps his eyes lowered. He doesn’t need to see the grief.

“Well that surgeon deserves to be fired.”

They go on like that. Christopher touching each scar, having him name and catalogue them, one after the other.

The thin one over his bottom lip. “Bar fight.”

The short thick one at his collarbone. “Lab test.”

The nick up by his brow. “Beat down.”

The curving long one down his arm. “Don’t remember.”

There are a few like that. More than he’d have expected. The burn on his arm. The glossy skin on his knuckles. The twisted one at his knee. Don’t remember. Don’t remember. Don’t remember.

And Christopher in between, mourning each one. Touching them, pressing his hand to them as though he could will the scars healed with his grief. Christopher has to keeping taking breaks for more tears and sobs. Like over, and over again he’s realising what he’s lost. Of what he once had. What he’ll never have back.

“My God, what have they done to you, darling boy?” He whispers it over and over again and over again. “You were so beautiful. So perfect. What have they done to you? What have they done?”

It takes them a while to retrace every new mark on him since Christopher has seen him last. The man is methodical and thorough. Scrupulous. Cass is almost startled by how many he finds. More than Cass would’ve discovered on his own, he’s sure. By the time they get to the last few, Cass can’t feel his hands.

“I’m so sorry, my love, I know you’re tired,” Christopher says with a kiss to the cheek, a hand cupping his jaw. His eyes are filled with sympathy and apology. As though he isn’t the one who’s doing this. As though this is some necessary procedure instead of his own predilection. “We’re nearly done. Last ones.”

Christopher holds Cassius’ gaze as his hand drifts low, skirting a decent gathering of little scars at his hip, over his thigh. They’re smaller, these ones. Harder to see. Only a shade or so lighter than his skin these days but piece by piece, bit by bit, they stack up, start to look noticeable. Little fine nicks and cross hatches, some raised, some flat, all faded.

“These ones here. The lab again?”

Cass drops his eyes. He stares at them for a beat, stares at what he can see beneath the man’s hand anyway, before looking back to Christopher.

“No,” he says. He feels a thrill to say it. “Me.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Excuse me?”

“I did those ones myself.”

A beat. “I thought we broke you of that little habit.”

And they had. For a while. – You’ll be hurt on my terms or not at all. – But Christopher should’ve known it would be one of the first things to resurface once he was out of reach. Why shouldn’t it be?

Cass smiles at the older man, eyes dead. “If it helps, I thought of you every fucking time.”

Which isn’t true entirely but shit does it feel good to say it.

The slap that flies hard and brutal across his cheek feels good too.

“Don’t you do that to me,” Christopher says, after a moment. His voice is soft and quiet and sad. Shaking with what was maybe a little anger. Funny. It was rare to see Christopher show that card. “I’m hurting badly enough today, I don’t need your cruelty on top of it.”

Cass keeps his head turned, staring at the arm of the leather rancher’s sofa beside him. His cheek burns, hot and tingling with the blood rush, as Christopher’s hand trails up and to his shoulder. As the man steps behind him, both palms pressing at his shoulder blades. At his back.

“And these?” he says. Cass’ eyes shutter closed, breath all at once catching high in his chest. Christopher’s been saving these, he knows. The crosses and lines on his back. One after the other after the other after the other.

Cass can’t answer to these. He can’t say. Can’t bear to. And, by some virtue of generosity, by some kind of twisted, fucked up grace, Christopher doesn’t make him. “He gave these to you?”

It takes him another minute. A long, hard minute of trying to breathe. Christopher allows him the mercy of the hesitation. And then, shakily, he nods his head.

Christopher sucks in a shaky breath as his palm presses to the scarring and Cass can tell he’s crying all over again. The sob shakes down Christopher’s arm, into his hand and hits like a jolt of electricity through Cass’ spine. It feels like it shakes his

“My God. This is cruelty. This is… this is cruelty.”

And Cass could laugh at that. He really could. After everything, everything this man has done. After everything he’s put his head through and his heart through and his body. This is cruelty, is it? Finally, this is cruelty.

Nah, it’s not cruelty. He wants to say. Penance.

He’s glad the words don’t actually make it past his lips.

Christopher’s hand runs across them over and over, again and again, and the feeling is so strange, so tender, so violating that Cass finds himself pressing his face against his arm and screwing his eyes shut, as though to hide. Skin then scar then skin then scar. Numbed then felt. Hot then cold.

Every trace of the crosses feel like he’s being stripped bare. As though with every caress, Christopher is peeling away a layer of numbness, a layer of armour, an exoskeleton. The world is like a burning thing without it all.

Cass hangs his head, arms still stretched up and aching, and he sobs, voice pulling out of him in a broken whisper. “Please stop.”

The plea seems to bring Christopher to the surface of whatever grief laden fascination he’s lost in and the man circles in front of him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb catching the tear that slides down it. Christopher’s tears mirror Cassius’ own as the man presses their foreheads together and Cass is sure they look a lovely picture of grief.

Shared martyrdom. Saint and saviour.

Maybe the man should have crucified him instead.

“I’m so sorry, Cassius,” Christopher whispers again, and Cass cringes and cries and keeps his eyes shut. “If I had known… I promise you, if I had known…”

It’s a mercy beyond measure that the man never finishes the sentence.

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #let's hang out sometime #oc #fic #self harm tw #dissociation tw #referenced abuse tw #cassius #christopher #return to whumper #possessive whumper #intimate whumper #nell does whumptober

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katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part eighteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7450 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part eighteen: A week later Dean and Y/N are training for the Flagstaff Horse Show, a last repetition for Congress. They are enjoying the honeymoon phase of their relationship, until Bobby calls Dean into his office. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Little Boy’ - Barns Courtney (scene Singer house), ‘The Farm’ - Thomas Newman. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: I’m excited for this one, y’all! Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“More leg, Y/N. Keep rhythm in that circle!” Dean has climbed up on the fence of the large arena. His hands are folded together and his elbows rest on his knees, the heels of his cowboy boots hooked behind the lower bar. He watches a horse and rider in front of him from under his hat, picking up even the tiniest flaw and highlighting what’s done well. As her trainer gives directions, Y/N pushes her calves a little tighter against Meadow’s flank, her right hand outstretched towards the mare’s ears as they finish their circle at speed. Elevated in her stirrups slightly, she makes sure the circle stays perfectly round while maintaining the constant one-two-three beat of hooves drumming against the earth. She can hear Dean’s strong and clear voice above the noise of the wind. “There ya go. Nice one!”

It’s 6.45 AM and the sun has just risen, its early rays of daybreak warming the headwrangler’s back. The nights are getting colder, even in the valley, so the warmth is pleasantly welcome. Summer has come to an end, which means the ranchers are following a different work schedule now. Downside; their midday siestas are no longer a thing, at least not until spring. Upside, they start an hour and a half later in the morning. When he says ‘they’, he means ‘everyone but him and Y/N’, because they have been training for Congress every day.

The perfect final repetition for the big event in Columbus is a local horse show in Flagstaff, coming up this weekend. Gold Canyon ranch is going there with a truckload of horses and both Jo and Dean are competing. The head wrangler convinced Y/N to sign up as well. They can test the new freestyle and see how Meadow does in competition, since it’s been a while since she last showed.

Pleased, he observes the woman who was born to ride. They are ready, no doubt about that. He knows it; the only person who needs to believe it now is Y/N. “Wanna practise a few stops and call it a day? Wouldn’t wanna overwork her,” he suggests when her horse comes past in a slow canter, or a lope. “No spins?” she checks, not confident with leaving such an essential element out of her training. Dean smiles at her eagerness; ever the perfectionist. “I’ve never seen you two screw up a spin. Don’t worry, they are solid,” he reassures.

She nods while looking over her shoulder, then straightens her back, following the movements of her horse. When she reaches the short end of the arena, she steers away from the fence, bringing Meadow onto the straight line out of another perfect circle. Y/N doesn’t get the chance to give aid to pick up momentum, because before they are fully straightened out, her partner speeds up already. “Circle her back. Let her wait,” Dean instructs. The cowgirl tilts her pelvis slightly and sinks deeper in the saddle, before swerving away from the line. She shakes her head disapproving. Come on, Y/N, you can do better than that.

“She keeps taking over,” Y/N ponders, slowing down when approaching her trainer. “She’s a smart horse. Most of the time that works in your favor, sometimes it doesn't. She wants to anticipate instead of letting you do the thinkin’. You don’t wanna discourage her enthusiasm, so what you gotta do is keep her busy. Give her something to do, vary your patterns. Throw her off her game a lil’ bit,” Dean explains to his pupil, who listens intently. “Ride down the line again, but don’t do the usual sliding stop at the end. Don’t speed up, don’t even think about the stop, okay? All you’re gonna do is let her wait for your call.” Y/N nods, feeling a little bit more confident after being given directions. “Okay.”

She moves her reins over Meadow’s mane, turning her around, gently aiding her to hustle forward in an easy canter. When she’s back at the short end of the large pen, the rider lets her horse roll away from the fence and onto the line again. She can feel the power under her, so much energy waiting for a release and ready to bolt. “Steady... Just sit and relax. Let her figure it out,” Dean calls out, loud enough to reach his student’s ears several yards away. A little confused Meadow pulls at the bit slightly, but Y/N does exactly what she’s supposed to do. Instead of punishing the behavior, she ignores it and lopes down the line, repeating the exercise. The second time around, the American Quarter mare already has her ears perked at her rider, waiting for a cue. “Change leads. Try the same thing on the right hand.” Trying to sit loose in the saddle, moving with the thousand pound animal under her, Y/N guides her horse onto the diagonal line and crosses the arena. Normally she would do a flying change in the center, a transition from left to right canter during the brief moment of suspension, almost like the horse is skipping. However, this time the rider decides against it, making Meadow wait until she reaches the other end, where Dean is watching his pupil closely from the fence. “Smart, well done! That’s riding, Yankee,” the head wrangler compliments.

With a smile on her face she continues the exercize, working on her horse’s assertiveness and patience instead of the actual pattern. Dean has a point; she can ride the test blindfolded. Hell, blindfold Meadow too and they would still be able to nail it, but only if the mare is willing to wait and follow her lead. The third time Y/N canters up the simple straight line, the bay mare relaxes, lowering her head a little more and calmly keeping a slow and steady rhythm. It’s exactly the response Dean was hoping for. “Next straight you do the sliding stop,” he says, just loud enough for the rider to hear, as if he’s worried the intelligent horse might pick up on it and understand what he’s saying.

Calm, Meadow turns the corner to the straight line, her breaths even, loose muscles rolling under her damp skin. This time Y/N can give the Quarterhorse an aid before she increases speed, which she does with powerful strides. When the mare is going down the line full throttle, Y/N counts down. Three… two… one…

The rider sinks deep into the leather of her saddle, pushing her stirrups forward and braces for the sudden stop. She can feel Meadow’s hindquarters lower when she plants her hocks into the soil of the arena. They slide several yards, leaving skid marks in the sand, and when the combination has come to a complete halt, Y/N moves her weight slightly to one side and takes the reins with her as well. The eager horse performs a rollback, a movement right after a stop during which the horse turns on her hind quarters and canters forward in the direction they came from. “That was awesome!” Dean exclaims. “Cool her down; she’s done for today.”

Pleased, Y/N lets her precious four legged friend transition to an easy jog, patting her on the shoulder. She feels beyond relieved that her training went so well. With her former trainer Marcel, the final repetition before a show usually meant bootcamp, pushing Meadow to her limits. But Dean treats her differently. He thinks things through, looks beyond the pattern itself and can really pinpoint what they need to work on, and often it’s not the routine itself, but the preparation and the foundation of horse riding.

“She felt really good, huh?” Dean looks up at the rider, seemingly content, as they exit the arena and walk back to the tack up area. “She did. I’m excited for tomorrow,” Y/N returns, halting under the Joshua tree. “Have you seen the starting order?” Dean nods as he glances up at her, narrowing his eyes when the sun peeks under his hat and blinds him. “I have.” “I’m fifth on the list,” the cowgirl mutters, not happy about her draw. “Any good riders in my class?” The head wrangler reads his student carefully, who is clearly fishing for answers. He’s very much aware where this is coming from. It’s a trait of hers, one that used to be much more evident, yet still surfaces every so often, especially in a new situation or uncertain times; she’s insecure.

“Does it matter?” her trainer reminds her. “Eyes on the ball, Yankee. Flagstaff is just a practice run for Congress.” “Sure, but I still want to win,” Y/N counters, matter of factly. “Oh, talking about Congress…” She looks down on Dean, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I booked our room.” His brow perks up, staring at his girlfriend for a second. That seductive look in her eyes is giving him all sorts of ideas. “Our room?” “Yeah, most hotels were fully booked, and this room is one of the few I could find,” she adds, teasingly, swinging her leg over the front of her horse, making sure her spur doesn’t hurt Meadow’s neck. “And you know what? There’s only one bed.” “You don’t say,” Dean smirks, stepping closer and running his hand up her denim clad legs slowly. She nods, not dismounting her horse just yet, but taking off her western hat and hanging it on the horn of the saddle. Instead, she seductively keeps her eyes locked on his green ones, the sunlight bringing out a hint of amber in them. “We don’t have to worry about squeaky bunk beds, or waking half the ranch…” “Or Garth taking a piss,” Dean recalls. She laughs, leaning forward now and slipping from the saddle smoothly, but Dean catches her, holding her up.

The cowgirl folds her arms around his neck. “You know, I read this research paper on how sex actually increases dopamines, which results in the athlete performing better.” “Interesting,” Dean is barely able to stop his trademark grin from showing, the effort creating dimples in his cheeks. “Would you like to test that theory?” “I booked us a suite with a queen size bed. What do you think?” she chuckles, so comfortable in his arms. “Well, in that case I’m more than willing to go the extra mile for my favorite student,” he grins, lowering her to the ground, after which he kisses her sweetly.

Meadow turns her ear towards the pair when Y/N’s back brushes against the saddle. She doesn’t take advantage of her owner being distracted and waits patiently, even though she’s not tied up to the pole yet. If the cowgirl didn’t know any better, she’d claim her horse has been their matchmaker all along, casually walking a little closer to Dean’s horse whenever they rode side by side, even taking a liking to the wrangler, despite that she has never been a huge fan of men.

Dean reels the cowgirl in, letting his hand roam over her hips as he deepens the kiss. He can’t get enough of her, especially now that he has surrendered in the battle he was fighting with himself. Ever since he let his guard down and submitted to the feelings that lay deep, the weight he was carrying seems a little less. To have someone to share his life and his passion with, knowing that she’s his and no one else’s, it’s something he never expected to find. It’s certainly not something he feels like he deserves, but he has managed to push that denigrating voice to the back of his mind. They are in love with each other, that’s all he needs right now.

Dean watches Y/N after he parts from her, in awe by the joy that radiates from the girl who has such a hold on him. He has seen her beam before, when she’s amongst the crew, when he makes her laugh. But he hasn’t witnessed this level of bliss and fulfillment yet. She’s glowing, and damn, it looks good on her. Y/N blushes when she notices his captivated stare. “What?” “You look happy,” he comments, leaving a short kiss on her lips again. She smiles, her gaze drifting away as she lets her hands slip from behind his neck down his chest, analysing this contentment that she’s experiencing. She’s somewhat stunned by the conclusion; Dean is right.

“I feel like - like I’m finally at a point in my life where things are coming together,” she realizes. “I spent years of my life in books, riding as much as I could aside from classes, just to get better. I tried to find that ‘click’ with so many horses, fell off, failed...” She huffs, thinking of all the times she almost gave up. Overwhelmed, overworked. School, ride, sleep, repeat. All while Granddad tried to find her the perfect horse. “Then Meadow crossed my path.” She rubs the mare’s withers, earning an appreciative purr as the horse glances over her shoulder. The head wrangler watches the two, the unbreakable bond, the friendship that will last a lifetime. It’s an indescribable feeling to have such a strong connection with an animal, one he knows well.

Turning her attention to her horse, Y/N undoes the leather strap under Meadow’s chin and removes the bridle, replacing it with a halter. Meanwhile, Dean takes her hat off the horn and places it back on her head, earning a chuckle. He then continues to loosen the sinch and removes the saddle, humid clouds of warm air coming from Meadow’s back. “I couldn’t believe it when Grandpa bought her. You should’ve seen me; I went out of my mind,” she says, reminiscing while taking off Meadow’s leg protection. Dean chuckles at that, able to picture it perfectly. Her reaction to qualifying for Congress offers a good indication. Before he turns the faucet on, he hands the hose to Y/N, noticing the smile fading from her face. “But then he died. It took me a while to get back from that,” she admits, glad to have something to do to keep her mind occupied. Often the tears still prick in her eyes when she talks about her grandfather, but today she manages to keep them at bay. Mesmerized, Dean listens. He had guessed before that her granddad had passed away, since she used the past tense whenever she mentioned him. He never pushed her to talk about it, though, knowing that if the roles were reversed, he would appreciate the space too. “You got back up, though,” he says, hoping she can recognize the willpower it took. She nods, smiling faintly as she puts the hose aside. “I figured that after everything that he’s done for me, the least I could do was make him proud. I won State, I graduated a year early and cum laude.” “And then you ended up in this dump,” Dean fills in, trying to lighten the mood. She chuckles at his joke and shakes her head, untying Meadow.

“Actually, ending up in this ‘dump’ is probably the best thing that could’ve happened to me,” she states, leading her horse to her box, Dean in tow. “I’m learning a lot here, and not just about ranch work. It has grounded me. Plus, I met this very handsome cowboy, too.” Dean smirks. “Did ya?” Y/N hums, turning after she shuts the stable door. “Why do you think I can’t stop smiling?”

His eyes bounce between hers, only now realizing that he has a big part in her happiness. It humbles him, knowing that he makes her feel this way. Never before has he stood where he is standing now, in a relationship, let alone in a relationship with this one hell of a woman. Most of the time he has no idea what he’s doing, his gut feeling his only guidance, but apparently he’s doing something right. She has a spring in her step when she walks, her eyes shine when she laughs, and he is the reason.

Wanting to tell her she is his reason too, but not knowing the words to that song, he takes off his western hat to fit under hers and wields his lips to hers. The kiss is less playful than the ones earlier, but all the more meaningful. Her lashes brush against his freckled skin, her hands cup his face, fingertips tracing the stubble on his jaw. The cowboy’s heart grows warm, rising in his chest, the sensation having him light headed. She is everything he never knew he needed, and he’s never going to let her go.

They hear footsteps coming around the corner, but both the wranglers are too occupied to pay attention, until a familiar voice puts an end to their private moment. “Really? Could you not? I haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Jo puts her hands on her small waist and halts when she notices the couple. “This is a lot to muster on an empty stomach, y’know?” Y/N chuckles after breaking away from her boyfriend, Dean rolls his eyes dramatically at his cousin. “Get lost, Jo,” he scolds, ignoring her request. “I’d advise you to get lost, because my dad is hot on my heels,” she returns smartly, before opening the door to the cafeteria, which is situated next to Meadow’s box.

The cowboy’s eyes grow wide as he quickly distances himself from the woman he held in his arms just a mere second ago, before Bobby turns the corner. Awkwardly, Dean fidgets with the brim of his hat as Y/N straightens out her shirt and wipes her hands on her jeans, hoping her tan will hide the blush that heats her cheeks. “Mornin’, Bobby,” Dean greets, trying not to act suspicious. His uncle looks at them now as if he only just noticed them, his weary eyes lingering on the intern for a short second before they focus on Dean. “Can I talk to you in my office?” he asks the head wrangler, even though it sounds more like an order. “S-sure,” Dean stammers, gulping nervously. “I’m getting my coffee first,” the ranch owner announces, before he disappears into the cafeteria. “Meet me there. You can let yourself in.”

Dean takes an apprehensive breath when the door closes, the tight feeling in his chest not so pleasant now. Y/N’s observing him; he can feel her eyes burning in the side of his head. “Why don’t you just tell him?” she sighs. “It’s been over a week.” “I think he might be on to us already,” he says, clearly not at ease with that presumption. “I just wanted to ease him in when he’s not… you know, cranky.” She frowns at that. “It’s Bobby; he’s always cranky. I thought Ellen--” “- Ellen said he was gonna be fine with us being together - yes - but Bobby specifically told me not to mess around with you,” Dean recalls, returning his gaze from the door to Y/N. “Well, I hope what we have going on here is a little bit more than you ‘messing around’ with me,” she returns with a tone. “Of course it is. Hey...” He lifts her chin up with a curled index finger, pleading to look him in the eye. “This, us… It means a hell of a lot to me. Please tell me you know that.” Her expression softens. She couldn’t be mad at him if she tried. “I know. I just wish we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore,” she admits. “I’ll tell him.” He presses his lips to hers quickly, glancing at the door before he does, making sure they will not get caught. “Save some bacon for me, will ya?” “Will do,” she promises, pushing him off gingerly before she opens the door to join the rest of the crew for breakfast.

He watches her leave, holding on to the sight of her as long as he can. She’s right; he needs to come clean. It doesn’t feel right to go behind Bobby’s back. Plus, with them leaving for Flagstaff this afternoon, he wants to be able to say out loud that he’s spoken for, aware there’s gonna be a few girls who might want to make a move on him. Not by any means is he worried he will not be able to resist the temptation, because as far as he’s concerned, there is none. But he doesn’t want to have to hide their relationship just because his uncle isn’t aware yet.

Dean puts his hat back on as he steps outside into the sun, which is steadily rising in the morning sky. Going over different versions of his announcement, he jogs up the stairs of the house, pulling back the screen door before he steps inside. Out of habit, he kicks his boots off and hangs his Stetson on the coat hanger, like he was taught when he moved in with his aunt and uncle at the age of fourteen.

The house is quiet, Ellen cooking up breakfast for the crew in the cafeteria at the stables. He crosses the living room and strolls into the kitchen, taking a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself some milk from the fridge. This place still has the same homey feel to it, it even smells the same as he remembered. He still knows his way around, even though he hasn’t slept under this roof since he was twenty. At a certain age, he wanted to be amongst the crew, hang with Benny and the other guys, and have a little more freedom. Jo joined them in the bunkhouse a couple of years later when she got rebellious and never really left, even though she still has a room upstairs.

Dean leans against the counter, taking a few gulps of milk. A smile forms on his lips when he notices some of the old photos on the fridge. Ellen always mixes them up, taking them out of albums and putting them in frames, some ending up on the refrigerator or pinned to the board in the office, others are on display in the saloon and in the cafeteria. One of the pictures portrays him on one of the first mustangs he trained, and next to him Jo on her pony, a little fellow called Ghost. He must have been fifteen or sixteen at the time, his cousin not older than ten. There’s another one of him and both Ellen and Bobby at his uncle’s fiftieth birthday; Dean was twenty-one then. The first birthday besides his own where he was allowed to drink, but he has never been a saint. God knows how many times he and Benny and Gabe started the Saturday shift hung over, before he reached the legal age. He grins at the memory.

His eyes glide over the photos, all seemingly normal snapshots, freeze frames of a country boy’s upbringing. But that’s it, isn’t it? It wasn’t normal to Dean. His life made a complete one-eighty when his aunt and uncle took their nephew in. They did it without question, never once asking for anything in return. They reminded him what it’s like to feel safe, loved, what it’s like to be a kid again.

It took him awhile before he could get past the years of worry, fear, and guilt, but eventually he found his way again. Has he forgotten about his childhood, the time he spent with his father and his little brother? Hell, no. He’ll never forget what happened, how the situation escalated and how everyone gave up on family except him, until there was nothing more the loyal son could do to stop the Winchesters from falling apart. But after all the trauma, the lesions on his soul, the nightmares, and endless regret, he found a place he calls home and is surrounded by people who, by blood or by heart, are his family.

The hinges of the screen door squeak and rattle when Bobby enters the house. Just like Dean did moments ago, the old man steps out of his boots, knowing very well that his wife will scold him if she finds dirty footprints on the wooden floors when she returns. He hobbles into the house, noticing his nephew in the kitchen. “Comin’?” he says, nodding at the office, further down the hall.

Dean empties his glass and leaves it in the sink, following his uncle. When he enters the room, he notices the stack of papers on the desk, open folders littering the flat surface. There’s an open filebox on the floor, numbers and letters scribbled in a notebook. Bobby has never been the person to keep his office tidy, especially with all the extra paperwork that comes with not owning a computer, but right now it looks like a bomb went off in here. “Take a seat.” Bobby circles the desk and puts down his coffee mug, closing the blinders to prevent curious eyes from peeking inside.

Dean does as told, a frown edging lines between his brows. The vibe he is picking up isn’t a pleasant one and he’s sensing this talk will not be about his relationship with the intern. Carefully, he reads the ranch owner, who sits down, rests his elbows on the oak desk and forks his calloused hands together. Bobby doesn’t look up at him, and it’s only now that his nephew notices how the circles under his eyes seem a little darker, his head hanging low between his shoulders, which carry so much weight. “We’re taking two of the youngsters to Flagstaff,” Bobby announces. “I need you to decide which ones, so I can send in the information to the auction committee.” “Whoa, what?” Dean says, confused. “I’ve barely haltered a handful. I thought you wanted them under saddle before we sold them?” “There’s no time for that.”

His uncle adjusts the worn baseball cap on his head, still not looking at the young man on the other side of his desk. “What do you mean, there’s no--” Dean stops when Bobby glares at him from under the hat, silencing his nephew with just a look. “Pick the two who you reckon would go for a good price. And I need you to compete two extra horses as well. The palomino stallion, you think you can show him in the four year old class?” “Yeah, I - I guess,” Dean says, realizing that riding five horses in competition is going to be a challenge, especially when it comes to time management, but he doesn’t have the courage to contradict the ranch owner. “Good. I don’t expect them to come home with us,” Bobby acknowledges, picking a folder from the file case next to his desk, flipping through ownership certificates and taking out a file. “I contacted some buyers.” “Which one’s the fifth you want me to bring?” Dean asks, carefully. “Joplin,” Bobby states.

Dean closes his eyes briefly, cursing internally. He knows Y/N has grown fond of the feisty mare; it’s gonna hurt her to see the little dark horse leave. “Joplin ain’t the easiest to ride and I can’t use her for the tourists; she’s the obvious choice. She’s good for ranch work and with the cattle, so I’ll sign her up for the cutting competition.” The ranch owner takes out Joplin’s file as well, adding it to the small stack in front of him. “The intern did some cattle work with her, right?” Dean nods. “Yeah, rode her on the trail too.” “Y/N can ride her then, they seem like a good fit. Discuss it with her, let me know if she wants to,” the old man decides, looking up at his right hand when he stays quiet. “I contacted Jody Mills; she might have some clients for Joplin.” “Bobby, what the hell is going on?”

Dean’s worried eyes study his uncle, an unraveling stare boring through the rancher’s tough armor, who is unable to hold his gaze. The weariness seeps through the cracks when Bobby rubs his forehead, leaning back with a sigh, the old desk chair creaking. “We’re in bad waters, ain’t we?” the wrangler realizes. Bobby still doesn’t look up, but nods quietly, admitting to the painful truth. He seems ashamed, as if he - the head of this family - is failing. The man opposite of him can feel the pressure his uncle is experiencing; he knows it well. Just the sheer thought of the ranch being in much more trouble than he originally anticipated has him anxious, his heart rate picking up. These lands, the company, the horses… could they all be at risk?

“How bad?” he asks firmly, even though he’s not sure if he wants to hear the answer. “I just ordered stable bedding, hay and pellets without havin’ paid for the last bulk. I can’t pay you or the boys by the end of the month, unless we make a profit in Flagstaff,” Bobby admits. “Then there’s the mortgage, bank loans, taxes...” Dean leans his elbow on the armrest of his chair, rubs his temple. “What happened to the money we earned on the livestock you sold Rufus?” “Used it on the electrical bill I was behind on and paid the city and the bank. I owed Caleb a lot of money too.” The wrangler’s eyes flick up at his uncle again. “So it’s all gone?” Bobby nods again. “Yeah, ‘fraid so.”

Troubled, he reaches for his coffee, taking a sip of the hot brew, wishing it was whiskey. From under his cap he watches Dean process the information, the knowledge doing a number on him, even though he acts tough. Bobby knows his nephew. Hell, he’s been living on his land for so long, he considers him a son. He knows how he values this place and the people and animals living here. He knows how much he craved shelter when he stood on the doorstep fifteen years ago. That’s exactly what this place is for him: his safe haven. And now that a storm is coming, now that his world threatens to cave, he’s losing his footing as well.

Dean leaves his chair, paces up and down the small room twice, his arms crossed and pondering on a solution. “You can keep my salary,” Dean says, “I know it’s a drop in the ocean, but I’ve got a roof over my head, that’s all I need. I have some savings too--” “Dean, I don’t want your money,” Bobby makes clear, his voice less stern. “This ain’t your cross to bear.” “Hell, it ain’t!” he exclaims, raising his arms up in despair. “This is my home too, and I’m not about to lose it!” “Do you really believe I’m givin’ it up that easy? It’s my life’s work, damn it!” his uncle raises his voice to level with Dean’s, but tones it down when he continues. “No one is losing their home. We’re just gonna have to save and make money before this spins out of control, stay afloat until business picks up again. That’s why we’re gonna bring more horses to Flagstaff, see if we can make some deals.”

Dean calms down slightly after his outburst, but is nowhere near at ease. He places his hands on his sides now, focusing on the floorboards. After a deep breath he collects himself. “We can take the large Pinto and the red dun Mustang for the auction,” he determines. “Alright,” Bobby writes it down, picking up the phone to make the call. “We’re still leaving at three?” His head wrangler nods, burdened, taking the que and turns towards the door. “Son?” Dean halts in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the man who has been more like a dad to him than his own father ever was. A few strands of light squeeze through the blinds, illuminating the mess they are in, the rest of the room dark, shadows looming over his uncle. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Ain’t the first recession this ranch survived,” Bobby reminds him, before he dials the number he wrote down earlier.

With a forced smile Dean watches him for a few more seconds before he leaves the office, the mask dropping from his face the moment he’s out of sight. With the unsettling information still mulling over, he puts on his boots again and takes his hat from the hall stand, walking onto the porch. He needs a moment to collect himself and let’s a heavy sigh escape his lungs, his eyes wandering over the scenery before him. Gold Canyon Ranch: sacred ground, their harbor, his church. The barn with the high doors through which he walked countless times, the Joshua tree that has watched over the horses for centuries. The saloon where on a good night laughs roar and beer flows. The bunkhouse, the crooked little prairie shed where he has a room and a bed of his own. And the Singer’s residence, where he knocked on the front door in search of refuge when he was fourteen years of age, standing in the exact same spot where he’s standing now.

The sun hits him when he descends from the steps, the source of light warming the earth rapidly, despite autumn approaching. A faint headache is throbbing behind his eyes already, the conversation getting to him much more than he wants it to. Bobby tried to lessen the blow and reassure his nephew, but he knows very well it’s ten minutes to midnight. He dismisses the possibility of losing everything all over again; he can’t think like that, it will only slow him down. What he can do is think of a way to prevent this train from derailing.

He attempts to leave the worry behind, because he can’t let the rest of the crew know just how grim the situation is. Thankfully, the guys have already started their workday. He can hear the tractor pulling up behind the barn and there’s a wheelbarrow in the stable alley. Garth whistles to a country song on the radio as he empties a box with large scoops, while Jo leads a saddled horse to the arena. A quick glance through the window of the cafeteria tells him Ellen already went to the saloon, probably to start on lunch for the group of eight tourists that are currently accommodating the guest houses, but he does spot Y/N, who’s wiping down the table. When he pushes open the door, a bright smile comes his way, her light burning away the dark clouds hanging over him.

“Hey! I risked my life defending your bacon, but I managed to save you some. Scrambled eggs and two buns too. Want me to heat it up real quick?” she asks, busy putting away the cutlery and dishes she washed. “Nah, that’s alright,” he says, slumping down in the chair where Bobby usually sits. “Here.” She puts the plate down in front of him, the smell of crispy meat filling his nose. He’s not all that hungry anymore, but he starts cutting the bread either way, knowing she made an effort to make sure he had something to eat.

“How did he respond?” she wonders after a moment of silence, drying off the frying pan. Dean was about to take a bite when he freezes, only now realizing what she’s talking about. Shit, with everything going on, it completely slipped his mind why he wanted to talk to Bobby in the first place. Y/N notices the hesitation, followed by a pair of shameful eyes coming her way. She sighs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Dean…” “I know. I’m sorry.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose while he shuts his eyes, feeling like an idiot. “Something came up. He didn’t call me in because of us.”

The cowboy glances up warely, noticing her disappointment. If anything, he doesn’t want her to think he just forgot, or worse - that he chickened out. But business is blending with personal life here; he’s not sure if he should share with her what his boss just told him. “Why did he call you in then?” she wonders, unable to hide the discontent in her voice. “He, uh - he wants me to take more horses to Flagstaff,” he says. “To sell them.” “Oh…” Y/N puts away the pan in one of the lower cabinets. “Which ones?” “Two of the youngsters we brought in earlier this month. Bon Jovi - the four year old - and...” Dean hesitates, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “And Joplin.”

In shock the cowgirl turns to him, staring at the head wrangler. “Bobby is going to sell Joplin?” “I wish it could’ve been different,” he half apologizes, feeling sorry for Y/N. “I know you like her a lot.” She hangs the dish towel to dry and turns to lean on the back of the chair. Her airway is closing, but she swallows down the lump that builds. Dean is right; she grew fond of the little dark Quarter. Not everyone can handle her fiery spirit, but the cowgirl could, forging a strong bond between them within a short period of time. Somehow, she never expected Joplin to leave the premises. “It’s not your fault,” she says after clearing her throat. “I’m the one who gets attached to horses who aren’t my own.” The wrangler observes her, well aware she’s trying to be professional about this. “Bobby hoped you could show her at the competition,” he continues. “I can do that,” she agrees, keeping her voice steady.

Dean absently eats his bacon and egg sandwich while Y/N tidies up, giving her hands something to do while she processes what he just told her. He watches her rinse a cloth and clean the kitchen counter, rubbing over a spot to make a stain go away. Not sure if he should say anything, he focuses on finishing his plate, but it doesn’t take long before he can’t stand the silence. “You okay?” he checks, concerned. “I guess,” she turns to him, finally taking a second to sit down. “How about you?” Dean wipes his hands down his jeans to get rid of the crumbs sticking to his fingers and looks at her, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m used to horses being sold.” “That’s not what I mean,” Y/N returns, not at all surprised that he acts like there’s nothing going on. “What’s bothering you?”

She reads her boyfriend carefully when he looks at her, dropping his gaze the moment her eyes reach too deep into his soul. For a few short seconds he seems to consider telling her what’s going on, but then he shakes his head. Worry swims in circles in her stomach, his inability to open up once again having her question herself. “It’s not us, I promise,” he says sincerely, reaching for her hand across the table when he notices her doubt. “And I wanna tell you, but I can’t discuss this with anyone other than Bobby or Ellen.” “Business related?” she guesses. When Dean nods, it clicks in her head. “The ranch isn’t doing so well, is it?”

As if he got caught committing a crime, his eyes shoot up to meet hers. Shit, has he said too much? She might be his girlfriend, but she’s also the intern. She works for Bobby, for God’s sake! This isn’t information he’s supposed to share with anyone. Unsure of how to respond, he averts his gaze, but she squeezes his hand to call him back. “Dean, this is kind of my field, remember? I can see the tell-tale signs,” she reminds him.

The head wrangler holds his breath, catching his bottom lip with his teeth, but then exhales burdened, accepting she has figured it out. Self-conscious about his own vulnerability, he runs his thumb over the back of her hand as he stares at nothing in particular, focusing on the motion. Bit by bit, the curtain is pulled back, revealing just how much this newfound knowledge worries him. “Bobby says we’ll figure it out, but things are bad,” he admits after a long silence.

She nods slightly, acknowledging his statement. Honestly, she’s not surprised. She wondered how the ranch was able to run on a handful of tourists and trail rides. With only three horses in paid training, it’s impossible to generate an income that covers the dozen others owned by the family, which can’t be sold for a fair price now that the market is at an all time low. She cannot imagine the mortgage on this enormous place. There’s employees who depend on a salary, animals which need to be fed and cared for, machinery that needs maintenance. Selling stock and letting go workers; they seem like desperate measures to her, measures which will not cut it during the economic crisis this country is currently suffering from, one that might drag on for years. It’s a postponement of execution.

Dean swallows thickly, allowing her to have a glimpse of his crippling concern. He feels weak to admit it, to admit to her that the walls around him are crumbling. But a joke and a laugh cannot save him this time, there is no way he can dance around the fact that he has zero control over the financial situation, and it scares the living hell out of him. “If we lose the ranch, I wouldn’t know what to do,” he confesses. “This place is all I have.” Hell, this place is all that I am, he thinks to himself. Because, let’s face it, when you take away the horses and strip him from the opportunities he’s offered here, he’s nothing but a highschool dropout with an old pick up truck.

“That’s not true,” Y/N dismisses. “You’ve got family, ranch or not. And you have me now.” He carefully glances up at her, taken aback by the comfort in her voice. A pair of soft eyes wait for him, strengthening her words. He mirrors the small smile she’s carrying, eased by her promise. “What if I take a look at the books?” she offers. “If Bobby is okay with that, of course.” “You - You’d do that?” Dean returns, stunned, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, of course. I mean, don’t expect miracles by any means, but I can shed some light on it. Maybe get an overview of the assets and liabilities, set up a balance sheet if there isn’t one, etcetera,” she states, making it sound like it’s no big deal. “I analyzed several large companies for my thesis.”

Impressed, the head wrangler takes in the young woman who is so wise for her age. He only now realises the intern might be the one who could steer this ship away from the massive iceberg they are heading towards. Of course she can’t magically make money appear out of thin air, but he doubts Bobby has the skill set of someone with a master’s degree in business. “You’re awesome, know that?” he huffs. “Don’t you forget it.” She grins at him, getting up from her seat and taking his plate. Before she can rinse it and reach for the dish brush, Dean’s arms snake around her waist and pull her against his chest, hooking his chin over her shoulder. He kisses her on the cheek, leaning his head against hers and ignoring his western hat when it tilts to the side. “Thank you.” She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Y/N turns in his arms, trapped between him and the kitchen counter. She looks up to meet his admiring gaze, adjusting the Stetson on the cowboy’s head and letting her hands linger, wrists crossed behind his neck. “I’m beginning to understand just how much the ranch means to you. And frankly, this place is starting to mean a lot to me too,” she admits.

The morning light sheds diagonal beams through the set of four square windows, highlighting her hair and her beautiful smile. Dean drinks her in for a couple of solid seconds, before he dips down and kisses her. How she is able to vanquish his inner panic, just by offering her full support, doesn’t cease to amaze the wrangler. He’s not getting his hopes up, he knows the financial problems are bigger than she can fix with a run-through and a few budget cuts. But she’s trying. She’s doing her part. She’s here to help, not only the ranch, but him as well. And just like that, the future seems a lot less grim than it did a moment ago. They will figure it out and things will be okay, as long as he has her by his side.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nineteen here

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august-anon · 4 years

Text

The Tickle Monster Always Wins

Hey hey, a very happy birthday to @phantomtickles! I hope you have a great day, the prompt you sent me was so fun to write. I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship(s): Platonic Royality

Characters (lee/ler): Ler!Patton, Lee!Roman, background Virgil and Logan

Word Count: 3,217 words

Summary: Roman really shouldn't have doubted Patton's skills as a ruthless tickle monster. He was really in for it, now.

[ao3 link]

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Patton was soft. Patton was gentle. Patton was squishy. Patton was kind.

Really, Patton was anything except adjacent with what Roman had been doing all day, which just so happened to be destroying every other side in the mind palace with tickles. Every other side, except for Patton, that was.

Which is why he was going to be the next victim.

He wanted to lure Patton into a false sense of security, so he waited until the four of them had gathered in the commons for some post-lunch quality time together, spent watching some Netflix.

“You’ve been on quite the spree today, kiddo,” Patton remarked, settling back into the cushions next to Roman, while Virgil and Logan settled on Patton’s other side. “It sounds like a lot of fun!”

Roman grinned, sensing the perfect opportunity to strike.

“Indeed,” Logan commented, “you’ve been almost as successful at destroying us as Patton is.”

Wait. What?!

Roman laughed out loud. “Patton,” he said, wheezing the name out through chuckles. “An evil tickle monster?” A fresh wave of laughter washed over him as he settled a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “Sorry, Padre, I love you, you know that, but you are no ruthless tickle monster.”

Patton raised an eyebrow in his direction as one corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk. “Keep telling yourself that, kiddo,” he joked. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

Roman scoffed. “Is that a challenge? Sorry, Popstar, but I’m not all that scared.”

He heard Virgil snort from Patton’s other side and mutter, “Your funeral.”

Roman barely had time to furrow his brow before he was pushed onto the couch, back hitting the cushions and shirt getting pushed up as far as it could go. Patton settled his entire body weight over his legs, laying along them like it was the most comfortable thing ever (which must’ve been a weird angle for him seeing as they’d gotten tossed over Virgil and Logan’s laps), and grinning up at Roman from his position, cocking his head to the side.

“I bet,” he chirped excitedly, “that I don’t even have to really tickle you to destroy you. I bet I can have you begging for me to actually tickle you.”

Roman smirked. He doubted Patton could keep that up for long. “Still not sacred, Patty-Cake, do your worst.”

Patton’s cheerful grin shifted until it was almost predatory, shocking Roman to his core (he didn’t even know Patton could make that face!), as he said, “Oh, Ro, sweetheart, I don’t think you could handle me at my worst. Sorry, jellybean.”

Roman scoffed again, but this time it was a little less sure. “Please,” he said. “How bad could it be? You’re just a puffball of preciousness, there’s no way you could destroy a prince such as I. Perhaps Logan and Virgil are just weaker than I am.”

Patton hummed, leaning down and brushing a soft kiss against Roman’s waistline, making the muscles and skin underneath him twitch. The smirk returned. “I think I better just give you a fraction of my worst this time, how does that sound? I mean, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with my preciousness.”

Patton’s lips dragged, barely-touching, to the other side of his waist. They left a maddening tingling in their wake that left Roman holding in a gasp. He could not show weakness.

That all flew out the window when Patton pressed three more feather-light kisses against his waistline as a mirror of the other one, right on his side, a mini-sweet-spot. He couldn’t help the sharp breath he drew in through his nose. Patton’s sharp gaze immediately found his, locking him in eye contact he for some reason couldn’t escape, but made his face burn.

“Oh, Ro~,” he sang softly. “Am I winning yet?”

“Absolutely not,” Roman said haughtily, though his voice wavered slightly. “I was just… sighing. Because I was bored.”

Virgil snorted and Roman almost jumped. He’d forgotten the others were there. He didn’t dignify Virgil with a response.

“Bit of a backwards sigh there, kiddo. Anything… bothering you? Something making you a little… nervous, maybe?”

Roman cleared his throat. “Nope. Nothing.”

Patton hummed a disbelieving hum and went back to barely trailing his mouth against Roman’s skin. He pursed his lips and blew out a cool stream of air near the bottom of Roman’s ribcage, making Roman flinch. He didn’t even bother speaking to Roman that time, he just moved on while making eye contact again and chuckling lowly.

The sound sent shivers up his spine.

Roman could quickly feel his desire to tickle others beginning to fade into something a little… different. He fought to hold onto his ler mood, unwilling to be defeated. He desperately wracked his brain for teases he could use against Patton, both to throw him off his game and to keep himself in the lead.

He came up blank when Patton cut his train of thought short by giving a quick nibble to the rim of his belly button. Roman squeaked and had to hold his breath to keep to squeak from turning into a full-on squeal.

“See, Roman?” Patton cooed. “It’s really not that hard, when you get down to it. Really, it’s cute that you think you can hold out. Virgil and Logan thought so, too.”

He paused in the middle of speaking to quickly dip his tongue into Roman’s belly button and pull it back out, causing Roman to squeal out a, “Gross!” that was bordering on a giggle.

“You’ll give in soon enough, little giggle bug. They always do. Why not make it a little easier on yourself and just give in now? I might have mercy, if you do.”

Roman took a second to steady his breathing, still determined to win this thing. “You’d never get me good enough for me to need mercy anyway.”

“Your tone of voice at the beginning of this situation started out so strong,” Logan called teasingly from the other end of the couch. “I wonder what could have happened to make it sound so small and flustered.”

Roman scowled as his face burned once more, (gently) kicking at Logan. “Stay out of this, you nerd, it’s not your fight.”

“Even your skill with nicknames is starting to fail you,” Virgil mused, smirking down at him. “What ever could be causing it?”

Roman resisted the urge to squirm, as even teasing was sending tingles through his body, now. “This doesn’t concern you, Virgil.”

Patton pressed another feather-kiss on the patch of skin below Roman’s belly button before speaking, letting his lips brush against Roman’s skin with every word. “Now now, sweet tarts, there’s nothing wrong with getting a little revenge. After all the tickling you put those boys through. Targeting all of their worst tickle spots to make them wail.”

Roman couldn’t stop the whine that escaped his throat. He squirmed lightly.

Patton stopped in the middle of his tease to give him that toothy, predatory grin again. “Oh? What was that, candy button?”

“Nothing,” Roman ground out, though he wanted nothing more than to wail, stop saying that word already!

Patton’s mouth moved so his teeth could lightly nip at the tip of one of Roman’s hipbones, causing another small gasp. He shifted down and let his lips brush against the divot as he spoke, “So it had nothing to do with anything I was saying? Not even that one extra special word? Maybe I should say it again, just for you, hm?”

Roman resisted the urge to shake his head frantically, trying to push away the butterflies in his stomach by thinking about ler things. It wasn’t working. All he could think about was how ticklish Patton’s mouth felt against his skin, even when it was hardly even touching.

“Ah-tickle-tickle-tickle-tickle! Hm? Does that make you all tingly, tootsie roll? Does it make all those cute little butterflies tickle you from the inside? I bet it does!” He nipped at and around Roman’s hipbone for a few moments. “You know, you could make this all end by just asking me to tickle you real nicely. Though, since you didn’t take my offer earlier, I can’t promise that I’ll be nice while doing so.”

Roman shook his head and brought his hands up to hide his tomato-red face. He whined once more, again out of his control.

“Aww, is Ro-Ro a little flustered?” Patton fake-gasped against his pantline, sending ticklish shockwaves through his skin. “Is Ro-Ro losing his own challenge? Oh, poor sugarbean, I tried to warn you! I wonder how long you’ll last before all those begs and pleas come spilling out.~”

“They won’t,” he ground out, flinching as Patton mouthed across his pantline to nip around his other hipbone.

“I think they will,” Patton murmured between teasing touches. “Sorry, sweetpea, but no one can face me and win. After all, the tickle monster always wins.”

“I’m the tickle monster!”

“Sorry, jolly rancher, not anymore. I think you’re a little too keyed up for that now, hm? Come on, royal smiles! Can you really deny how much you’re starting to ache to be tickled? Based on your squirmy little torso and that adorably flushed face of yours, you can’t honestly deny that I’m not winning.”

Roman was barely aware of Logan and Virgil slipping out from under their bodies. They wiggled their fingers at him as they walked past to leave the room, devilish smirks and smiles overtaking their expressions. Roman squeezed his eyes shut and made a tortured noise deep in his throat.

“Gonna stop being so proud, kitkat? It’s just us now, you don’t have to save face. Just give in. You know you want to.~”

Roman didn’t even know if he could speak anymore. His body was covered in maddening tingles, desperate for a ticklish touch. His face was more vibrantly red than even his sash. He was more flustered than he thought he had ever been in his life.

But Roman was nothing if not stubborn. So he went against every self-preservation instinct he had and shook his head once more.

Patton let out a heavy breath through his nose, sending the air across his skin and making him squeal. “You know, sweet skittle, I’ve given you plenty of opportunities to give in. I think I’ve been very nice about it, actually. But you, tsk, you have been very difficult. Really, it’s rather rude.”

Oh no, Roman thought.

Patton mouthed across his waist again before sitting up fully, and Roman had to hold in yet another whine. “Really, now, sour patch, it’s been quite a long time. Maybe I should just let you stew awhile, let you think about this. Truly, if you haven’t broken now, I wonder if you will.” Patton’s voice was light, airy, unconcerned.

He started to stand. Roman realized he was just going to leave him there, now far too deep in a lee mood for anything to save him from it. He reached out and snatched Patton’s wrist.

“Please,” he murmured.

Patton huffed at him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow, though Roman could see a secret smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Please what, Roman. Truly, I’ve given up, you’ve won.”

Roman threw his head back, making some sound between a groan and a whine, and forced out a, “Please, tickle me.”

Patton settled his weight down, straddling Roman’s legs again. “I see. Well, it looks like I win, then, huh, sugar snap? But allow me to remind you, I only said I could get you asking for it. I never said it would end with me tickling you.”

Roman covered his face again and whined, long and drawn out and embarrassed.

“And you’ve been so rude, should I really reward you with what you want? You’ll have to ask really nicely for me to even consider giving you any tickles, now, gigglemunch.”

Roman cursed himself for being so prideful. He knew Patton was just toying with him, just trying to key him up even more before he truly swooped in to destroy him, but he couldn’t help the desperate little thought that whispered what if he just left you like this to torture you, left you in this lee mood to suffer and tease you until you would do anything for even the smallest tickle.

He couldn’t deny that this deep in, the thought was almost appealing. But he couldn’t be that patient, today.

“Please, Patton,” he begged. “Please tickle me, I’m sorry for being so difficult, please just wreck me already, I need it. You were right, you’re the biggest tickle monster, you win, please.”

The predatory grin stretched across his face once more. “One more time for me, starburst?”

“Please tickle me, Pat, please, I’m begging you.”

Patton smirked and spidered his fingernails down the fleshy parts of Roman’s sides with barely-there touches. Roman made some sound that was a mix between a whine and a giggle.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll have a little mercy on you.”

Oh, Roman thought. This is what he meant by mercy earlier. Not going easy on the tickling, but actually tickling me. He should’ve given in sooner.

Roman, hoping to entice Patton to tickle him more, looked away and lifted his arms up, gripping onto the armrest above his head.

“Oh, how sweet of you to cooperate. Maybe you deserve a little reward for that.”

His touch got a little firmer and he wiggled his fingers around Roman’s stomach. It was finally enough to drive Roman into light giggles and he squirmed a little at the maddeningly soft touch.

“What do I have to do to get you to wreck me?” Roman cried out through his giggles.

Patton cocked his head, toying his fingers gently around Roman’s sensitive hips. “Hmmm. Say that I’m the best tickle monster that has ever and will ever exist--”

“You’re the best--”

“And,” Patton cut him off with an evil smirk, starting to skitter his nails up Roman’s ribs, “you have to tell me your absolute worst spots in the whole wide world.”

Roman clamped his mouth shut and squeezed up his face in consideration. He hated admitting weak points and, even though he wanted nothing more than for Patton to target those exact places and make him scream, it was extremely difficult for him to talk himself into actually saying it. He took a deep breath.

“Patton, you’re the best tickle monster in the world, the best there ever has been or ever will be. Your skills are unparalleled.” He hesitated.

“Aww, you flatterer!” Patton cooed. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Roman took another deep breath, practically throwing the words up. “MyWorstSpotsAreMyArmpitsAndThighsPleaseTickleMeThere!”

Patton left one hand still slowly moving up his ribcage, while the other came up to cup his ear. “Hm? What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?”

“Armpits and thighs,” Roman ground out.

“What about them, snickers?” Patton asked cheekily.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut again and dug his nails further into the couch’s plush armrest. “They’re my… worst spots.”

“And which is absolutely worst?”

“A-armpits.”

“Thanks, kiddo! How nice of you to tell me!”

And Patton’s hand immediately redirected back down his ribs, much to Roman’s disappointment. “We’ll save that for later, hm?”

And suddenly there was squeezing at his sides and Roman finally broke into laughter, the titters left behind in the dust. Then, Patton leaned down and started kissing and nibbling playfully at his neck and ears, making nomming noises. Roman squealed through his laughter and tried to scrunch up like a turtle, but Patton’s head prevented him from any sort of protection.

“P-Pat!” He shrieked.

“Ro-Ro!” Patton mocked. “What’s wrong, I thought you wanted this?”

Roman didn’t answer, just let himself laugh. His laughter kicked up a notch when Patton started switching between kneading the slight pudge on his stomach and pinching at his hips, all while blowing tiny raspberries around his neck.

Eventually, Patton pulled back slightly and smiled down at him. “How badly do you wanna be wrecked, laffy taffy?”

Roman whine-giggled and buried his face in his arm, still not lowering them even to cover his face better. “Really bad.”

Patton scooted back on his legs so he was straddling near Roman’s knees, leaving him unable to bend them for protection. Roman gasped, both regretting and rejoicing that he’d worn shorts that day for maximum flexibility when wrecking everyone. Patton tweaked the tops of his thighs and Roman bucked with a loud shriek.

“Ooh, this is a good spot,” Patton chirped, smirking up at Roman.

He held his wiggling fingers up for Roman to see and started slowly lowering them towards his thighs. Roman tried to bounce them in anticipation, but with Patton sitting around his knees, he couldn’t make his legs budge.

“Here come the wiggly, tickly claws,~” Patton sang. “They’re coming for you, tickle bug.~”

Roman squealed even though they weren’t even touching him yet and started giggling hysterically.

“These little claws are gonna…. Getcha-getcha-getcha!”

“Pat!” Roman shrieked, watching the descending hands as they got slower and slower.

“Yes, sweetums?”

Roman made a sound akin to an audible keysmash, at which Patton actually had to pause and laugh.

“You’re too cute, sweet cheeks.”

Roman pouted at him.

“Oh, alright,” Patton teased, and his hands touched down.

Roman shrieked and immediately started cackling as Patton’s hands vibrated and squeezed and kneaded and wiggled all across and in-between his sensitive thighs. It took all of his willpower and concentration to keep his hold on the armrest and not bolt up and try to stop Patton’s hands.

Out of nowhere, Patton scooted up and buried his hands into Roman’s underarms. Roman’s eyes bulged out and he laughed harder than he can remember laughing in his whole life. He didn’t remember normal tickling ever, well, tickling this much. He was barely keeping his arms up, at this point.

It was awesome.

After tormenting his armpits for a while, Patton switched it up again. One hand reached back to torment a thigh, one hand stayed torturing his armpits, and Patton’s mouth went back to nibbling, kissing, and blowing raspberries all over his stomach, sides, and hips.

Roman was laughing so hard, there were tears of mirth streaming down his burning cheeks. His laughter went from frantic, to hysterical, to silent, and his arms came crashing down, gluing themselves to his sides.

Patton stopped. Roman panted, giggling still.

“Whaddya say, kiddo?” Patton asked cheerfully, ruthless tickle monster persona dropping instantly.

Roman giggled a little hysterically at the change. “I’d say you all were definitely right. No one beats the tickle monster that is Patton Sanders.”

Patton giggled, helping him sit up and grabbing a water bottle off the coffee table for him. “You doing alright?”

Roman grinned. “I’m doing spectacularly,” he said, before gulping down the water greedily.

“Cuddles?” Patton offered, arms open wide.

Roman’s smile softened and he snuggled down into Patton’s chest. “Cuddles,” he agreed tiredly, energy suddenly sapping out of him as soon as he connected with Patton’s warm body.

“Take a nap, almond joy, you earned it.”

Roman didn’t have to be told twice. He was out like a light within minutes, soothed quickly by Patton’s breathing and heartbeat, and the TV droning on uselessly in the background.

#My writing #tickle fic #sanders sides tickling #lee!roman #ler!patton #ticklish!roman #sanders sides #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #royality #platonic royality

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loulougoingsolo · 4 years

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A sugar rush through the decades is Better than Chocolate?

If this is what eating too much sugar does to Rhett, and especially Link, can we please just have them eat candy all the time from now on? Today’s GMM had a sugar rush, and then some. (Also, Gus Johnson is STILL there - does he live in the secret loft?)

So, today’s episode is another take on the Year Eye with 2 Straight Guys, this time, with candy. Rhett and Link must guess, when each iconic candy was invented, and then shuffle their tooth to the correct decade.

In order to get to the candy in each round, Rhett and Link must reach down to a deep candy bowl, and just because why not, they decide to do it in tandem. That of course means, they are going to be pretty close to each other every time they go for another dig. I sure ain’t complaining.

The first candy of today (although, based on how hyper Link is today, I think he’s been munching on something sweet beforehand) is Butterfinger. If Link is having a serious sugar rush, it appears that Rhett on the other hand is toxicated by Link today - what on earth is up with the intense gazing? Even Link is confused, and I’m absolutely loving this.

Link makes a promise to start loving everything they eat on GMM from this day on, because people keep complaining about his pickiness. I look forward to seeing how long that's gonna last!

Rhett is in the lead in after the first round, and the next candy to guess is Pop Rocks. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Rhett is in a very flirty mood today, suggesting they should eat the Pop Rocks with their arms linked (like newly-weds). This is starting to look like a very rhinky episode!

Link holding the shuffle stick while on sugar rush is a somewhat alarming sight, and if I were Rhett, I’d take a step back, but instead, he starts to joke about how he has a family who are dependant on him. Yup, we all know, Link is just an oversized kid, and that is why we all love him. But he also isn’t half bad at shuffle board, and gets the points for this round.

The third round brings us Jolly Ranchers - aka “Happy Cowboys who Stay in One Place”, and that one place is a single-story home. If Link wants to think ranchers are cowboys who’ve settled down, let him. I wonder if Rhett is going to build his ranch in the Undisclosed Gorge?

The Mythical crew fails at a practical joke, when instead of candy, the guys find Hershey’s chocolate syrup in the deep bowl, but Rhett and Link just get confused. With everything crazy going on on GMM, the guys need something more to be horrified at this point.

The next actual candy is Airheads. Link comes up with his own version of Rhett’s highschool nickname joke, and declares that he was called White Mystery in gradeschool. I have to say, his version does not top Turtlemeat (or any of the other highschool nicknames, tbh). But it’s a valiant effort. Despite neither of the guys being able to realize that Airheads sounds a more recent thing, Link gets the point, and is now in a strong lead.

Link, being confident in his ability to win this game at this point, suggests a deal: if Rhett lands on the right decade, he’ll win the whole game. And what happens next? Rhett wins. Of course. And after a happy victory dance, he hands Link a Snickers bar while maintaining a safe distance.

In More, we first learn a new word (at least, for me it was a new word): mumpsimus. I can think of quite a few things people stubbornly adhere to despite being proven otherwise - climate change not being real, the earth being flat, evolution not existing, just to name a few.

Instead of getting into real life examples of mumpsimus, Rhett says something that surely helps Link get over being upset about losing. To promote the new crystal wash sweatsuit, he not only says that what Link is wearing is so lovely, but also, he says Link looks especially good today - and in response, Link looks delighted and also very cute. And rubs his booty. What is this show, really?

I love how chaotic this More, once again, is. First Rhett is disappointed by how unromantic Twix becomes, when it’s stripped down to a list of ingredients. Then, the mention of invert sugar leads to Link saying he wants to eat the Black Hole - a candy bar he just invented. And then: “Where is the sour patch on a kid?” Rhett tries hard to come up with a bit less inappropriate answer, but even if he’s talking about himself, “a place that my tongue couldn’t reach”, in the context of this show...felt so inappropriate, but he made Link giggle, and that is perfect.

Oh, I didn’t know you had a candy like Good and Plenty in the US - we have a million brands that make a liquorice candy like that, and they are really good. Now I really want the guys to make a movie about Dr. Mario (I was addicted to that game, probably worse than the junkie /lead character of their movie is to Good and Plenty). But I definately need to see the Mr Rogers movie - what in it makes Link emotionally afraid to watch it?

I loved how Stevie’s suggestion for the guys to “think fancier” with the Toblerone round, prompted Link to speak in a very posh accent, and Rhett talk about wearing a three piece suit to the movies. I didn’t know Toblerone was that fancy - my parents used to buy the biggest Toblerone bar to my brother every time they went travelling. I preferred pretty much everything over Toblerone, for me it’s just an overly sweet chocolate which leaves you with almond bits stuck between your teeth - and the pieces are inconveniently large. But Rhett’s excitement over it is deligthful to watch.

I can’t believe no-one in the crew got Link’s joke about mineral oil:

“What are men made of?” “Mineral oil” [men are all oil]

I have to say, I think the more sugar these guys get into their systems, the sillier they get. Rhett forgets how to write, Link comes up with bad puns and new candy bar names, and the whole thing ends with Rhett feeding Link chocolate, just to make himself happy. So much better than feeding eggs. This episode was exactly what I needed today.

#gmm #gmmore #rhett and link #gmm 1712 #year eye with two straight guys: candy edition #guessing candy by their ingredients #very flirty undertones #which is why i have to tag this post with #rhink

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gunslingertales · 4 years

Text

Saving grace || A.M - Chapter 1

Story summary: Arthur struggles with his guilt and his loyalty towards the people he always thought of as family. He starts questioning the life they’ve been leading lately and wonders if there’s still a place for him somewhere out there in a world that’s so quickly chaning. Then he meets a woman with fire in her eyes and gold in her heart who seems equally lost in the great unknown that’s life.

Chapter One: “ Foolish thoughts”

Chapter summary: There’s a little Ranch just south of Valentine and the owners owe the Van der Linde Gang some money. Arthur is send to collect the debts thought instead of money he finds a sick and frail old man and a woman ready to fight for the people she considers her family.

Likes, comments and especially reblogs are more than appreciated ♥

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

A thick heat rests upon New Hanover as Arthur rides his horse through the fields and valleys, the sun beating mercilessly down on him. It’s a dry heat, one that clings to your lips and eyes and makes them feel like sandpaper.

He’s not really one for this weather, then again, he’s not itching to get back into the snow either. Those days up in Colter, holed up in those dingy little cabins not knowing whether they’d starve or if the storm would kill them first, they’ve left marks on all of them. Every time he looks around the camp he can see faces filled with relief yet guarded. It’s like no one really believes that luck might finally be on their side.

Dutch keeps repeating his mantras of “Just have faith” and though he’d die for this man, lately Arthur’s been wondering what exactly he’s supposed to have faith in. Life just ain’t what it used to be. The world, ain’t what it used to be. And maybe it has outgrown them. Maybe times ain’t meant for folk like them no more. He’s not gonna voice those thoughts though, not to Dutch or anyone else. Sometimes your own thoughts can be your undoing. So they stay in his head and in his diary. And anyway, what good would it do to undermine Dutch’s plan? It would just cause problems and unrest in the group. Then if they fall apart where would that leave him? They’re all he’s got. Mary ain’t taking him back anytime soon, that train had left years ago. There’s nothing else out there for him. He ain’t no rancher. Can’t fish really well. Hell, even though being out with Charles helped him get better, he ain’t turning into a hunter anytime soon either. He’s not bad at it but he can’t make a living from it either. This life, robbing and plundering and doing — well bad things, this is all he knows. All he’s ever known. Maybe, he thinks, life hasn’t outrun the group. He can see John, dull as he may be, turning his life around and becoming a rancher maybe. Mary-Beth, nose stuck in a book at all times, could make a great writer if given the opportunity. Hell, even Pearson could find employment elsewhere.

But him ? Nah. Maybe life hasn’t outrun the group. Maybe it has just outrun him.

Silly thoughts. Silly foolish thoughts. Thoughts he can’t afford. Not right now. He can’t grow soft right now. He’s got work to do. Work he ain’t particularly fond of but work nonetheless. Goddamn Strauss and his lending business. Though it may be legal it ain’t right. The fool is playing bigger fools for money they don’t have.

There’s a voice in the back of Arthur’s head nagging him about it. Telling him to just turn around and let Straus do the dirt work himself if he’s so keen on making business with desperate people he should be the one dealing with the consequences of his actions.

The idiot would probably get himself killed in the process though and while that wouldn’t be much of a bother to Arthur himself, he’s quite certain Dutch does not share that sentiment.

So once again he’s the one fixing other people’s mistakes.

There’s a small ranch just south of Valentine, close to Cumberland Falls. It ain’t big by any means but it’s calm and quaint and for a split second Arthur wonders if this could’ve been the life for him had he decided to stay with Mary and leave the gang behind. Probably not, Mary wouldn’t want to be a rancher’s wife either.

As he hitches his horse, Mouse on the closes tree, Arthur can already spot the poor fella Thomas Downes raking the ground by his crops. It’s not nice work, collecting debts.

The man is lanky and thin and he looks frails. With every step Arthur gets closer to the fence, he can hear the man coughing and wheezing. It ain’t right, beating money out of a sick man. It ain’t right at all.

“ Mr. Downes? Mr. Thomas Downes? “

“ Yup, that’s me.”

The man looks up at him with a smile and his words sound so goddamn chipper. It’s worse beating nice and friendly people. If they’re assholes, well, it ain’t so bad then. Least it doesn’t leave a sick taste in his mouth afterward.

“ You owe me money.”

The smile falls from his lips as realization dawns on him.

“ Oh, no no no - I “

Arthur steps through the gate, a terrified Thomas Downes facing him, rake in hand and ready to fight. What a nuisance, Arthur thinks. In the best of all cases, this man is sick, and in the worst, he’s actively dying, he’s not going to win any fight. Though Arthur commends his bravery, it’s a foolish attempt really.

He slaps the rake out of the man’s hand as if it’s a piece of straw. “ Really? Threaten me, would you? “

A deliberately placed punch straight to the jaw follows his words and immediately knocks the skinny man off of his feet. As he sits in the dirt, Thomas Downes looks up at Arthur through fearful eyes. It ain’t right.

“ Please. I have a family, sir. Please. “

It’s not fun to have them begging if they’re nice folk. Nonetheless, Arthur grabs the guy by his collar, lifts him up just a little. “ I don’t care about your family. You borrowed money from my business partner Herr Strauss. You owe him. You took the money, he wants it back. “

Downes cowers at Arthur’s feet like a beaten dog, there’s hopelessness in his eyes and desperation.

“ Where’s our money? “

“ I don’t have it. “

“ Sell your place. “

“ We already owe more than it’s worth. “

“ Well, that’s too bad for you then. “ Arthur lets out one of his signature grunts and is about to hoist the man up to his feet when a loud voice catches his attention.

“ Hey, you. Stop! Stop! Let him go! “

Arthur turns just in time to see a woman run up to him, her red hair pulled into a thick braid that hangs over her right shoulder, a few wildflowers intricately woven into the braid. Her appearance is one of sweetness and innocence though there’s a fire in her eyes burning brightly and her steps are fast and fierce.

“ This ain’t none of your business, Ma’am. Your husband owes us some money, I’m just here to collect what’s rightfully ours. “

“ He ain’t my husband. “ the woman hisses at Arthur, as she pulls Mr. Downes back to his feet and leans him against the fence. There’s blood dripping from a cut above his eye that the woman quickly wipes away with a handkerchief. “ I work here. “

“ Well, then it sure ain’t none of your concern. I just want my goddamn money.”

“ You’re not gonna find it here. Can’t you see he’s sick? The ranch ain’t doin well either. “

“ I don’t care, lady. We ain’t your idea of charity. “

“ So what ? “ she asks and steps up to him, her eyes burning with anger and wrath. She’s so close, Arthur can see even the smallest of freckles as they cover her cheeks like stars in the clear night sky. “ You gonna kill him cause he can’t pay back the few lousy dollars he owes you? “

“ If that’s what it takes. Ain’t no dollar lousy for someone who got none. “ he tries to reach around her, to grab Mr. Drownes again and instill a little more fear, get some cash out of him even if it’s not all he owes. Though the woman doesn’t have any of it, she steps back into his path, shielding the sick man from Arthur’s rage.

“ Stop!”

“ Woman, get outta ma damn way.”

“ No! “

“ Ma’am, I ain’t the kind of guy that slaps a woman around but you’re going on my nerves real bad. “

“ You are free to leave. “

“ Not without ma money!”

“ Okay, okay, “ she holds her hands out in front of her in a gesture to calm him down. Like he’s a wild horse stomping his hooves and bucking up on his hind legs. “ I’ll pay. I don’t got no money but I have something else. If I give it to you, will you leave him alone? “

Arthur considers it for a moment. For a second he wonders why it matters to her. Why she’d give her valuables for a family that ain’t hers. But then again, he’d give his life for Dutch and Hosea and the gang, and ain’t none of them bound to him by blood.

“ Is it worth anything? “

“ It’s worth good money. “

“ Then yes. “

“ I need to get it, follow me then. “

It’s not a question, it’s a demand. It’s really not her place to make any demands but Arthur doesn’t mind. As long as she’s giving him something valuable he can live with the attitude.

The woman gives Thomas Downes another look-over, making sure he’s fine to stand on his own before patting his arm affectionately and turning back towards Arthur.

Little fly-away hair sticks to her skin that’s slick with the summer heat and the sun reflecting in her eyes turns them a vibrant shade of blue. It’s quite the sight, a girl like her turning into a real firecracker.

She stomps past him, dirt clinging to her boots as she hikes her skirt a little higher. Her clothes are quite something, Arthur thinks. The skirt is a blue and grey gingham pattern and her blouse is white and flowy with several colorful flowers embroidered onto it. There’s some frilly stuff hanging from the sleeves and the collar. Quite … something. But hell, what does he know.

“ Lemme tell you, Ma’am. Ya better not try any funny business. I ain’t here to joke around.”

It’s not that he distrusts her in particular. It’s that all his life he’s been taught not to trust anyone except those closest to him. And even that seems questionable these days. His mom died before he could even really get to know her and his dad, he was a good for nothing bastard. Hosea and Dutch, those are the people he trusts. Charles, too. Even John with his hot-headed ideas and big dreams. But not strangers. Never stranger no matter how nice. No matter how beautiful.

Trust makes you vulnerable. Vulnerability kills you. Or at least it chips away at your heart until there’s nothing left.

There’s a small building a few steps away from the main house, not more than a shed really but there are several patches of colorful wildflowers growing by the path leading up to it. Though he doesn’t know her, Arthur can see her living here. With the flowers out front and the sun shining through the one small window.

Arthur feels uneasy as she lets him step into the shed. There’s a bunch of old photographs sitting on a cupboard in the corner and some hung up on the wall behind her bed. It’s been a while since Arthur’s stayed at an actual house, even longer since a place felt like home, if ever. He’s not quite sure if he ever had a one to begin with. Maybe his home’s the prairie.

But this, this place feels awfully homely. It’s bursting with personality and character.

With a groan, the woman reaches down and lifts one of the floorboards, picking up a small wooden box, adorned with several little amber stones. There are words engraved into the lit of the box though he can’t make out what they’re saying.

“ You know, “ she says as her fingers fumble around in the small box “ you ain’t a very nice man. “

“ Never said I was. “

It’s no lie. He’s not a very nice man. He’s robbed people, killed them. He’s beaten an old sick man for a few lousy dollars. He’s not living with false perceptions of himself. He knows exactly the kind of man he is and it ain’t a nice one. But to say the words don’t affect him is a lie. They do, for they are the same words he’s heard from Mary so many many times. Back when he tried to be a nice man. For her.

“ Here you go!” the woman pushes something into his hands before stuffing the box back beneath the floorboard. “ That should be plenty enough. “

Slowly, Arthur opens his hand to reveal several pieces of sparkling jewelry. Two sparkly gold earrings and a ring with a big red stone. Granted, Arthur doesn’t know the first thing about jewelry but even he can tell this stuff is worth a good dollar.

“ It was my mama’s. Was hoping one day I’d find a husband and he’d propose to me with that ring but I — I guess that ain’t happening no more. “

The fire in her eyes is gone and has been replaced with an infinite sadness. The uneasy feeling returns to Arthur’s stomach. It just ain’t right.

“ You ain’t gotta be doing this. They aren’t your debts. “

She lets out a deep sigh before looking back at Arthus, blue eyes brimming with honesty and sadness.

“ Life ain’t so easy, you know? The Downes are the only people I got left. Thomas isn’t doin’ well. If God has mercy on us he lets him live for a few more weeks. That’s the time I got to try and find a new place of work. Edith will lose the Ranch soon as Thomas is in the ground. The goddamn bank is already circling around like vultures. Her and Archie will go west, stay with some family of hers. I’ll be alone then. And the world is cruel to a woman who’s got no husband and no work and no possessions. This family helped me out when my daddy died and I had no place to go, this is just me returning the favor while I still can. “

“ You the maid or something. “

“ Or something. My daddy used to own a general store in the heartlands, close to flatneck station. We used to buy produce from the Downes. Then my mama died and my daddy — well I guess part of him died with her. Things didn’t look so good for us no more but the Downes always did good by me. Always made sure I had food on the table. Then, when my daddy died, they took me in. First I was taking care of Archie, their son, then when he was old enough I started helping around the house and with the crops. It’s why I cherish them so much, why I wanna help ‘em. Don’t even wanna think about what comes next. “

His heart is constricting in weird ways. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Mercy is not something he can afford. Rich people can. Nice people too. But not him and not the gang. Life just feels so strange lately, like the world has shifted just a little. Enough to throw things out of proportion but too little to make any immediate impacts.

“ Sorry to hear that, Ma’am.”

“ Please don’t call me Ma’am. Makes me feel mighty old. “

“ I’m sorry … Miss ? “

“ Everly. May Everly. “

“ Well, then I’m sorry Miss Everly. I don’t mean no harm, I’m just doin’ ma job.”

That’s not the truth but sometimes it’s easier to tell little lies than to be entirely honest. He’s sorry, that part is true. Sorry that life ain’t being good to her either lately. But he did mean harm, to Mr. Downes at least. Had she not stopped him, worse things could’ve happened. Way worse things.

“ I understand. Just wish your job didn’t entail punching people into the ground. “

Arthur averts his eyes and lets them run up and down the pattern in the wooden floorboards. It’s one thing to be faced with our own shortcomings when your mind is screaming them at you but to have them laid out for you by someone else, a stranger no less, that’s quite a different story and it’s not pleasant.

“ We all gotta survive somehow, I guess. “

“ Maybe you’re right. Maybe we ain’t so different you and I. The world seems like it don’t want either of us no more. “

“ Maybe so. “

A soft hand is placed on Arthur’s arm. So gentle and kind and Arthur wonders how long it’s been since he last felt the touch of a woman. Quite a while if you don’t count the bath-girls at the saloon. He hates the fact that this is where his mind wanders. Ain’t no way this woman would ever even entertain the thought of showing him any affection that rises above a friendly pat on the arm.

“ What’s your name? “

“ Arthur. Arthur Morgan. “

“ Well, Mr. Morgan. Please take the jewelry and let the Downes live how little time they got left in peace. “

“ You sure? “

She nods, sending more hair to pull out of the neat braid and some wildflowers to fall to the ground.

“ But, if I can allow myself to make a request. Could you make sure the ring goes to someone who needs it? Maybe a couple in love. Someone looking to surprise their wife. Just — don’t just pawn it off please. “

“ I’ll keep it in mind. “

“ Thank you, Mr. Morgan. “

A silence settles upon them heavily just the way his heart feels right then. Heavy like the stones that seem to rest inside his stomach for a while now.

“ Have a good day, Miss Everly. Sorry, it has come to this. “

“ Yeah, me too. “

The acidic taste of guilt sits on the tip of his tongue as he steps back outside and walks the path down towards where Mouse is munching away on a patch of grass. Wildflowers are flanking his sides and with every step he takes, his conscience and his heart grow heavier.

When his eyes look up from the ground, Arthur spots another horse grazing next to Mouse. A beautiful Buttermilk Buckskin stands in the midday sun, fur shining like golden silk. It’s a gorgeous horse.

“ Oh, I see you met Beans. Sorry whenever he’s around other horses he naturally gravitates towards them. “

It’s not surprising to him that this horse belongs to May. Though he doesn’t know her at all, has only had one conversation with her, something about her intrigues him. There’s a mystery to her. A certain depth. The way she’s looked straight into his soul when she talked to him was both comforting and scary. Usually, the only person who even understood a tiny bit of his inner working was Hosea and even then with him, it was mostly a guessing game that sometimes hit the spot. Mary-Beth always had an open ear for his problems and seemed to understand whenever he chose to share but her head was always up in the clouds so it was hard to tell if she really understood or if she just repeated pretty words from those books she devoured all the time.

“ Beans.”

“ Yup. I got him when Archie was little, he helped me name him and it kinda stuck. Sorry, he’s bothering your horse. Lemme take him inside the barn. “

“ Nah, it’s alright. This is his home. Mouse doesn’t care anyway. “

“ Mouse? Well, that’s a cute name. Didn’t take her for a Mouse since her fur ain’t gray but … it’s cute. “

“ Sure. “

He doesn’t tell her that the only reason the horse is named Mouse is because back in the day, when they were still young and foolish and in love, Mary had read to him from a book her father had given her. It was about some girl who falls down a rabbit hole and then ends up in some weird fantasy world. He doesn’t remember a thing from it but the fact that there was a Mouse in this story. So his lovesick heart named his new horse after a character from a book the woman he used to love once read to him. Amongst fools, he really is the king. Mary probably doesn't spend a single second thinking of him and he goes around doing stuff like that.

“ Well, you take care Arthur Morgan. And get Mouse some sugar cubes from the money you make from my jewelry please. “

Arthur lifts himself onto this horse and tips his hat towards May as she leans against her own horse, fingers combing through the black mane.

“ I can do that. You take care too, Miss Everly. “

She bids him goodbye with a smile, one he is most definitely undeserving of. Even after taking something valuable from her, her mother’s ring, her dead mother’s ring, she still grants him a smile.

Life ain’t never been fair to him but he had never deserved for it to be either. Arthur knows he isn’t a good man by any means, today has only proven that further. But her, with her wildflowers and her Horse with the funny name, she seems like no bad thing has ever come from her. Life, Arthur thinks, should favor those who do good. That would only be fair.

But when has life ever been fair.

The encounter stays on his mind way into the night. At the campfire, as Javier strums along on his guitar and sings some Spanish song neither of them has heard before, his thoughts wander back to May and what she said about them being not so different. If only she knew. Women, Arthur has experienced, often don’t seem to grasp the severity of his wrongdoings, of his bad deeds. They like to see him for a romantic version of what they perceive an outlaw to be. He ain’t none of it though.

He looks around the campfire at the familiar faces. This is the first night they all got to come together and celebrate being down from the mountains and out of the snow. There are smiles on everyone’s faces and a mutual sense of belonging falls upon them. This, Arthur thinks, is why he chose this life. The community. The loyalty. The love.

Sometimes you have to fight against the restraints life gives you and find your own path. Find your own family. And he did that, all on his own. In Dutch and Hosea and yes, even fucking Marston. These are his people and if the world don’t want them, at least they’re going down together. A luxury miss Everly doesn’t seem to have.

“ Stop with the silly thought, Arthur!” He scolds himself. “ That ain’t none of your business. Nothing you need to get involved in. You got enough on your plate as it is. “

And he tries to stick to that, he really does. Silly, foolish thoughts are a luxury people like him don’t get to revel in.

Only that’s not entirely true for the next several pages of his diary are filled with sketches of beautiful wildflowers, a horse with golden fur and a black mane. And a girl with flowers in her hair and eyes a bright sky blue that hold the fire of a thousand flames.

#arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 imagines #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption imagines

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squidbatts · 4 years

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my love is (not) a weapon

“Fine! I like it, are you happy now, Your Majesty?”

Amethar is. It fills his chest enough that he wants to slam Calroy up against the wall and kiss him senseless, no matter what the Candian elders say about propriety and proper courting behavior.

or: an afternoon with his majesty the king and his intended

((i continue to have Prince Consort Calroy on the brain, so accept this amethar pov fluff piece where they do a little sparring and a little kissing. please enjoy!))

{ao3}

Amethar’s study is the one room of Castle Candy that is entirely his own. The brassy rancher-wood orange of his desk, the paintings of battlefields on the walls, the bookshelf bearing only atlases; it’s all picked out by him, all only for him.

“Oh, this one is a lot of whining about the consequences of something that we told him not to do three seasons ago. Want me to read it to you now or later?”

Him, and Cal. Calroy is perched on the edge of his desk as he goes through Amethar’s mail, slowly swinging one leg back and forth. The letter he has in hand bears the seal of a minor lord that Amethar does vaguely remember advising during a banquet last Highharvest, though Amethar mostly just remembers the way Cal had held onto his arm and whispered relevant bits of gossip to him all evening. Now, Amethar leans back in his desk chair and sighs.

“Is it important?”

“It’s not not important. We’re going to have to fix his mess eventually so we might as well stay up to date on it,” Calroy says. After a moment’s pause he glances at Amethar over the letter and hums, face softening. “But it can wait a while longer. What’s up?”

“I don’t think I can focus on these reports any longer without breaking something,” Amethar replies, and it’s only half a joke. It feels like there’s something beneath his skin, hot and fizzling and inescapable, and if he doesn’t do something that requires more movement than sitting in a chair listening to Calroy talk then he might explode.

“This wouldn’t be a great place to break things in,” Calroy agrees. His smile changes, grows mischievous as he lowers his voice and asks, “Do you wanna spar?”

“‘Do I wanna spar?’ What kind of question is that! Of course I do,” Amethar stands, slinging Payment Day over his shoulder. Amethar is technically not supposed to be sparring, he was told when he was given the crown that it was too much of a risk for him to continue, that he could supervise drills from the side but could no longer participate in them. Still, Amethar’s found that no matter how many times someone tells him to do something, none of them can make him change his behavior. Not anymore.

Calroy hops off the desk and brushes the creases out of his pants, the movement drawing Amethar’s attention to the thick golden ring on Calroy’s thumb. Amethar is grinning before he’s done noticing, before his eyes leave the chevron curve of it or the delicately etched vines. It fits Cal’s style while still standing out next to the cool greens and creams that he favors, a spot of well-suited opulence in his best friend’s humble fashion. Amethar loves it, has loved it since he commissioned the ring from a local jewelry smith, and he loves even more to see it on Calroy.

“You’re wearing it again?” Amethar asks as they fall into step in the hall, gesturing towards Calroy’s hand. Calroy ducks his head away, but not before Amethar sees that he’s smiling as well.

“It was a gift,” Calroy says, voice Court steady despite how he still doesn’t look Amethar in the eye. “Do you think I’d be so rude as to ignore a gift?”

“You would wear a gift so often out of courtesy?”

Calroy huffs but he’s smiling ever so slightly in that way that he only ever lets Amethar see. “Fine! I like it, you picked a good courting gift. Are you happy now, Your Majesty?”

Amethar is. It fills his chest enough that he can barely feel the hollows that grief and anger have carved into his heart, makes him want to slam Calroy up against the wall and kiss him senseless, no matter what the Candian elders say about propriety and proper courting behavior.

He settles for bumping his arm against Calroy’s and grinning like a fool. “Yes, for now.”

If someone had told Amethar ten years ago that he’d be walking the halls of Castle Candy with his intended, his father’s crown atop his head, he would’ve punched them. Even if someone had told Amethar just a few years ago, when he was in the trenches of a war and Calroy had kissed him for the first time, he wouldn’t have believed it; Amethar wasn’t exactly chaste during the War, ready, willing, and able to try just about anything with just about anyone, but most of his mid-War escapades were with people who he wouldn’t have significant contact with: commonfolk in small towns or other soldiers who were sure to be cool about it. Calroy was -- is -- different, because they were friends first and friends after, because he never asked for a more that Amethar was unable to give. In fact, after that first whirlwind hookup, Cal never approached him like that again, though Amethar wouldn’t have minded if he had; but, well, it was the War, and then there was Catherine, and then there was everything else, and... Amethar is just glad they’ve made it to this point, eventually.

They don’t go to the main training yard, because the Tartguard should be running drills right now and Amethar can only stand so much tickling with swords in the background of his relaxing afternoon spar, but settle into a smaller courtyard.

“Sparring rapiers or our normal weapons?” Calroy asks, though the way he’s already unsheathed his saber means that he knows what Amethar is going to say.

“I’ve never used a training sword with you and I don’t ever intend to.”

Calroy grins, bright as the glare of the sun off his sword, and gets into a ready position. “Have at thee, then.”

Fighting with Cal is a bit like dancing. Amethar was taught to wield a sword alongside the guard, though his personal style evolved to turn his strength into broad strikes and brute force during the War. Amethar doesn’t know where Calroy grew up or how he learned to fight, and the shadow that passes over Calroy’s face whenever he’s asked about his family or his past makes Amethar reluctant to probe, but he fights like he barely has to touch the ground, leaping and spinning and somehow managing to be everywhere with a perry or a slice. It’s exhilarating and centering.

Amethar settles into the duel, moving on instinct and muscle memory until he missteps and Cal’s able to trip him. Calroy puts a knee on Amethar’s heaving chest and his blade to Amethar’s throat, the warm sunlight making Calroy’s hair glow like a roseate halo.

“Got you,” Cal says, his voice low and weighted, like he’s pinning Amethar with his words as well as his weight. “Do you yield?”

Amethar tries to speak but his mouth is so dry that it comes out as an embarrassing squeak. He clears his throat. His voice still seems strained when he manages to say, “I yield.”

Calroy blinks, then moves, not to put down his sword but to lean in. Amethar swallows thickly and Cal’s saber moves with his throat, sun-warm, solid, and sharp in a way that makes Amethar’s stomach flutter. Calroy’s eyes are dark, pupils wide.

“I appreciate My Majesty's submission,” Calroy murmurs, and then he leans down and presses his lips to Amethar’s. He starts gently, almost tentative, but when Amethar’s hands move automatically to Calroy’s hips, Cal takes it as an invitation to deepen their kiss and Amethar feels for a moment like he can’t breathe.

Calroy’s thighs straddle Amethar’s waist to press ever closer and Amethar arches off the ground to meet him, their mouths falling open and breath mixing as one peck flows seamlessly into desperate, delighted making out. After what feels like a small eternity, Calroy pulls back and Amethar, even his soft love-struck daze, realizes that his difficulties with breathing were, in part, because Calroy’s sword was trapped between them; Amethar’s neck now features a shallow but long cut, bleeding sluggishly. Calroy all but throws the sword away when he notices.

“Oh, Amethar, I’m sorry-”

Amethar cuts him off with another kiss, short and sweet. “It’s fine, Cal. Hey, maybe it’ll scar, then I’ll have even more reason to remember today.”

Calroy huffs but he still presses gentle fingers to the wound, an admiring look in his eyes. Amethar decides to count it as a win.

#a crown of candy #crown of candy #amethar rocks #calroy cruller #acoc #i wish there was a good ship name for this fic that Wasn't Already A Real Thing (aka k*ngcake)#one shot #prince consort calroy

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arcticdementor · 4 years

Link

You might look around sometimes and think to yourself, a new America has dawned, godless, without the old restraints. Yellowstone, the Kevin Costner Western on the Paramount Channel is the best example I can summon to mind just now, and its third season has just started. It’s a 21st-century story of cowboys and Indians—with characters seeking freedom from law. Practically, this means they must constantly defend a way of life independent of the many bureaucracies threatening their livelihood, and they do so with terrible violence.

Taylor Sheridan is the writer-director behind Yellowstone, and the series follows the success of his movies, Sicario, Hell or High Water, and Wind River. These movies earned seven Oscar nominations, one for Sheridan, and about as many nominations in Cannes, including important wins. Sheridan was raised on a ranch, but his family lost it, so he went to college and Hollywood, recalling Sam Peckinpah’s story. After Clint Eastwood, he’s now our premier poet of manliness.

…

Like any man long in power, Dutton has many enemies, and the more they behave dishonorably, the more you see that he’s touched by greatness, since he has no desire to go hurting people and does not share their cruel contempt for justice or life. Many look to prosper in his place, partly by the prosperity he has made. Worse for Dutton, America has changed—from the national press investigating him to the new economy to the way historical grievances grant authority to demand change—everything is threatening his way of life, built around family, land, and centuries past and future. Indeed, loyalty itself is over and new identities are required, which are flexible and practiced in deception. To succeed in Yellowstone’s new America, it doesn’t really matter whether you know any part of the country or have done well by people, but whether you know how to manipulate institutions and please those who manage the most successful interests, which seem hardly any better than legalized conspiracies.

Like Hemingway’s marlin, which achieves its greatest leap in its death throes and expires at the top of the arc, Dutton is most impressive in agony. He seems superhuman compared to the new American elites. His handling of urgent problems makes him resemble the president—he is an executive. Meanwhile, egalitarianism has not created equality in America, but only a new elite, impatient, ignorant of the future, blind to necessity—thus, astonishingly able to manipulate the new systems of power, since these elites feel no concern for consequences. The real world, where people are tied to a place, to other people, to their past, and the good they pursue, is replaced by access to the institutions and finances that make the world work, which manipulate people’s lives indirectly, in unaccountable and unpredictable ways. Everyone’s tied into legal demands and their lives are increasingly regulated, but only people who know how to use the law to get what they want get ahead in this new situation. The first post-American elite is coming for the last cowboys.

…

The American Dream is over in Yellowstone, and billionaire gentrification is coming for the last refuge of manliness in a country that produces compliant subjects rather than free citizens. In this grim world, cowboys are stand-ins for the white working class. They don’t go to college and they work dangerous jobs without much healthcare and for little pay. They are not disrupting the economy. They are America’s past, not future. Their virtues are Stoic and this might simply mean resignation to death.

…

Justice is built on nobility, and in Yellowstone, Sheridan draws our attention to this through the characters’ relationship with their horses. So understanding horses is the core of Stoicism—the horse is the noblest animal and America’s love of horses lasted well into the last era of popular country music and the Western, in the 1970s, because a horse rider presents the image of someone more than merely human. It is a greatness available nearly to anyone, at least anyone willing to face harsh nature. Horses are everywhere in Yellowstone, so one might not read much into it. They symbolize certain virtues, however. The horse is a power that will obey the rider, but not against its own nature. To ride a horse requires endurance in face of pain or weariness, courage to face fear or whatever weakness might come, self-control in face of temptation, and moderation—those habits that make man thoughtlessly sovereign. Without these, you die when it’s suddenly dangerous. One cannot talk oneself into it and there is no technology to accomplish this, either. It’s a way of life, not a job. It takes long practice which allows you to understand yourself and develop self-discipline. As such, horse riding leads to a kind of self-knowledge.

…

The Duttons are not Christians, few of their like seem to be—not even the death of the firstborn leads to a church funeral. They believe in freedom and nature—ruling over the land, over the horses, over people. They despise weakness and treasure loyalty. They trust family, not morality. Compared to ordinary Americans, they’re shockingly aristocratic. They believe in choosing the means to defend family and their land because family itself is unchosen—it’s nature, and therefore reliable. But can they live in America, where most people have no family? They rely on their old-fashioned patriotism to defend the ranching way of life, but the country has changed without them and it seems they can either adapt and sacrifice their family, or stay loyal and lose everything.

…

The opposite of a man in America is a bourgeois bohemian, to recall David Brooks’s signal contribution to our sociology in Bobos in Paradise (2000). Brooks is a sophist for this class, so he will not tell the ugly truth—but Tom Wolfe did in A Man in Full (1998), and even scooped Brooks. It’s not an accident that he saw clearly: Wolfe was the poet of American Stoicism and understood the threats to manliness.

The people who define elite taste in America are themselves opposed to violence, but not because they are Christian or even moral. It’s because their own rule doesn’t require that they ever take any personal risks—poorer people do that, who live in other parts of town or are completely removed from sight by gentrification. Nowadays, the rich take no responsibility for the poorer or those suffering violence, or even ever shake their hands, which is why our cities are such madhouses. There is no noblesse oblige.

Sheridan wants to show the violence in America to rebuke this bloodless view of things. So in the first season we see, through the real estate developer drama, how the new American elite is moving in to remove the last ranchers. This establishes the difference between real men and those who want to rule merely through institutions and finance, as though history had ended and we’re just dividing up luxuries. In the second season, we see rule by violence, in order to understand the difference between men and beasts. Sheridan shows that not all who kill are the same. Only then is it possible to defend the ranchers against the bobos persuasively.

…

The older Americans were not sufficiently attuned to nature, because they believed in God more. But as the churches are emptying, people are looking elsewhere to learn who they are. Some turn to nature, because human beings are not trustworthy. We may say mankind is naturally perverse, always coveting and therefore often violent or treacherous, which is why harshness was required in the past, to establish property and then defend it. This is certainly Dutton’s view, who only goes to church once, to make a priest manipulate a parishioner into obedience. And as a family, the Duttons are only happy when they revert to their old ways, taking care of their herd from an improvised camp so far away from civilization there’s no cell tower in range.

The only way to end the human drama would be to stop being enviable. End greatness and thus end striving. On the other hand, to defend greatness is to defend suffering. This way, we learn that suffering builds character—it brings people together, as do common enemies. This problem, the future of America, is the show’s indirect concern. Is it possible to retain honor in a dishonorable world? It’s not obvious how we can defend freedom without honorable men making sacrifices. Nor how we can raise honorable men if we tolerate bobo elites who despise honor and use every institution of government and market to end it. Dutton raised his kids to correspond to his understanding of rule. The treacherous Jamie is a Harvard-educated lawyer who tasted the bobo life for a while, but in order to redeem himself, he works like hired help in the stables. Beth is a finance genius, which plays to her ruthlessness, but at the price of undermining her ability to love and trust. Kayce is the truest cowboy, but what makes him so loyal also blinds him to the complexities of 21st century America. They each amplify something in Dutton, but in this attempt to pass on the ranch to a new generation, it turns out honor and savvy have been utterly split apart.

This acquisitive capitalism that corrupts honor is the enemy that returns in the third season of Yellowstone. That’s what the name of the show is about—the place of nature in America. Is it a museum, a zoo we visit occasionally, enjoying the beauty after all the danger is under control, and the millionaire class gets extra privileges? Or is there also a human nature that we need to learn to respect by treating physical nature with some respect, lest our elites treat us like pets as well? To defend manliness in America, it may be necessary to defend wild nature. That is a preparation for political freedom. To go too far in the opposite direction is to treat human beings, but especially men, like savages—as our elites do to the urban and rural underclass.

The purpose of the show is to persuade Americans to believe in nobility again. To face cruelty and violence as a preferable alternative to institutionalized despotism. To accept America’s tragic past with gratitude for the freedom we still have, if we are willing to earn it again. We have had so much success, we’ve created a class who profits by this success without any connection to America or regular Americans. We need to educate new elites about what’s worth loving and defending. Sheridan wants to teach by tragedy, so his protagonists are essentially honorable, which is no longer tolerated in our storytelling. Americans have never accepted tragedy before but perhaps now we will, since our freedom is once again in danger.

#titus techera #law & liberty #yellowstone #tv review #never seen the show #but he makes it sound interesting

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