#Bucking Bull

[hell-river]

Starry eyed, you’re still a stunner. The night is long, your days are numbered.

[gremlinboykevin]

How to correctly hold your zombie gremlin!

And

How to NOT hold your zombie gremlin !!!

[bekoobove]

Fazbear Fears #20: The Bucking Bull

 

9 Years Ago

 Jared Montgomery knew his eleventh birthday party would be great. His parents were throwing him a party at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza- in his eyes, they might as well have booked a venue in heaven. He loved the place- though only this location.

 That may sound strange to say, but it was true. In all honesty he had no interest in the dancing bears, bunnies, birds, or any other weird robots these restaurants had. He found them creepy, uncanny. The food wasn’t the draw, either- Jared had always felt the pizza was only marginally more tasty than the box it came in. No, what made him love Freddy Fazbear’s was the arcade. And what made this location his favorite were his high scores.

 The letters JRD could be seen flashing in the high scores on every cabinet’s screen. Combat Kids, Zany Sword, Mangle’s Quest- you name it, he’d mastered them all.

 Well, almost all…

 As soon as he passed through the doors, he heard it. The cheesy western music and squeaking mechanical parts.

 Jared caught sight of the large platform. The outside was lined with a fence, each corner topped with a plastic cattle skull. The platform itself was surrounded by inflatable cactuses and encouraging-looking cutouts of the Fazbear gang dressed like cowboys. And, at the platform’s center, bounding back and forth, was Jared’s nemesis: The Bucking Bull.

 It was a fearsome foe. Two quarters was all it took to get it moving, but Jared had easily sunk forty dollars into trying to get the high score. Obviously most bucking rides like this didn’t have any such thing, but this one was different. There was a sensor in the saddle that tracked how long you could stay on, which transmitted the times to a screen hanging above the game. Jared was on the board- number four- which would be enough for most people, but not him.

 But today, Jared had a good feeling. The high score was 2 minutes and 49 seconds, which he ultimately felt he could beat. And that high score would be the sweetest present of all.

 He warmed up with a few rounds of Air Hockey with some of his friends- Sally, Benjamin, and Jacob. The first two were no problem, but Jacob presented a challenge. Jared didn’t mind- he liked a challenge (It helped that he won, best two out of three). Jacob had always been the best at these games of his friends, JCB usually lingering just below JRD.

 It was Jacob who stood by his side as he approached the Bucking Bull. Jared glared at it. Its empty plastic eyes glared back, as a quick burst of steam shot out its nostrils. It felt like a Mexican standoff, with Jared almost expecting a tumbleweed to roll past. Still, the true confrontation wouldn’t begin until he mounted the ride.

 He slid the quarters into the slot, causing the gate inside to open up. An employee standing at a small booth gestured him inside.

 “Good luck.” Jacob said, smacking him on the back.

 “Thanks, but not needed.” Jared smirked. He climbed up to the platform. “This is the last time, you stupid bull.” He muttered under his breath.

 He climbed on and gave a thumbs up to the employee. They flipped a switch on their booth, and the rodeo began.

 The next few minutes were a blur- literally. Try as he might, Jared couldn’t make out any faces cheering him on, although there were many. The western music blared louder than ever, and there was a voice on the soundtrack yelling YEE-HAW! Still, he kept a firm grip on the bull, not letting up for even a moment.

 Eventually, though, he faltered, and was flung from the bull. He braced himself as he fell- less for the platform, and more for fear of failure

 Jared crashed into the inflatable platform, but didn’t either bother trying to get up. He simply listened.

 There was silence for a moment. Then, from the screen, he heard it.

 “2 MINUTES AND 58 SECONDS. WE HAVE A NEW HIGH SCORE!”

 Jared cheered, and jumped over the fence. His friends surrounded him, just as excited, congratulating him. There wasn’t any other fanfare, but Jared hardly cared. “I’m king of the arcade!” He yelled victoriously.

 The employee winced at his sudden scream. “Yeah, great job, kid.” They said unenthusiastically, rubbing their temples in irritation. “Ok, do any of you other guys want to go?”

 “Ooh, me!” Jacob crowed.

 “You sure?” Jared asked. “I’ve seen you on the bull before, you’re not that good.”

 “Why do you care? Scared I'll snatch your high score from under your nose?”

 Jared chuckled. “Just trying to save you some quarters, buddy. But have at it.”

 And Jacob did, depositing his quarters and boarding the bull. The ride began, and Jared prepared for him to be thrown off.

 He wasn’t though, which impressed Jared- an attempt longer than five seconds for Jacob was rare. Even more seconds rushed by, until Jacob had beaten his personal record of 31 seconds.

 Jared clapped. “Great job, dude! Best you’ve ever done.” He braced again, certain his friend wouldn’t last much longer. But to his shock which increased by the moment, he did. Jared would never be able to figure out what caused it- encouragement by seeing Jared’s high score ride, some elaborate rodeo training he’d undergone since his last try, or just some kind of luck. What mattered was that at this moment, Jacob was entering the top ten, and an unpleasant thought crossed Jared’s mind: “Am I gonna lose the high score?”

 It was ridiculous. The previous high score had lasted for years, surely his wouldn’t be conquered within five minutes. And yet, no matter how quickly the bull spun and bounced, Jacob’s hands clamped onto it.

 Jared had counted in his head. Only twenty seconds left and his high score would be gone.

 He knew it was stupid. He’d still have second place, and he was undefeated on every other machine in this building; why care so much about this one?

 Seventeen seconds.

 It’s just…this was one of the only things he was good at. Jared wasn’t particularly athletic, or intelligent, or innovative- his teachers would often tell him as much. If he couldn’t be the best at this, then what was he?

 Twelve seconds.

 It didn’t matter what he thought or whether it mattered, it was over. Jared stumbled backwards…and realized he was right next to the control panel. He could make out a small lever set to HARD. A few inches above it was another setting. It read NIGHTMARE.

 The ride could be made harder.

 Ten seconds.

 If Jared had thought about it even a moment longer, he would have realized how utterly stupid this was. There was an employee right there- even if he did the deed, he would be caught and get into major trouble. Definitely not worth it in the grand scheme of things. But Jared didn't have that moment. Instead, with one swift movement, he grabbed the lever and yanked it upwards.

 Seven seconds.

 The employee obviously noticed his movement, but rather than anger, horror grew on their face. Jared could hear the bull spinning faster, with scraping and squeaking from its machinery. He heard Jacob yell, startled and a little afraid.

 Four seconds.

 Jacred saw one last thing before his life changed forever. A small piece of duct tape stuck next to the NIGHTMARE setting, with a short note in permanent marker- POWER OUTPUT UNSTABLE AT THIS LEVEL- OFF LIMITS UNTIL REPAIRS.

 Two seconds.

 There was a scream, and for just a moment, Jared thought maybe everything would be ok. Surely Jacob had merely been thrown off, right?

 Jared turned to see he had, but things would hardly be ok.

 The sheer power of the bull’s buck had sent Jacob soaring, above the platform, over the fence, through the arcade-

 Until he slammed skull first into a concrete pillar nearby. There was a nightmarish cracking sound, and Jacob’s body fell to the ground, limp.

 “Jacob!” Jared screamed. He ran over to the pillar, as everyone else stared on in stunned silence.

 Jacob’s hair was matted with blood, which dribbled out of his head. Jared swore he could see cracked chunks of bone peeking through the hair as well. His skull had been seriously fractured by the impact, and Jared knew there was no hope.

 His friends tried to deny it, but Jared had always been a bit more shrewd than them. He was old enough to understand that there were some things doctors couldn’t heal you from, and this was one of those things. Jacob was declared dead as soon as EMTs arrived on the scene.

 Dead.

 Jacob was dead.

 And Jared had killed them.

 That simple fact whipped into a storm of conflict and controversy. How should he be charged? What were his intentions when he messed with the controls? There was no denying he had, the employee had caught him in the act, but his parents tried. “Our son wouldn’t do this, he’s a good boy!”, they would protest to anyone who reasoned with them. That pithy line was practically etched into his brain, as well as requests for testimony in his favor, advice for a lawsuit over the Bucking Bull’s faulty machinery, anything to shift the blame from their good boy.

 And there Jared sat, huddled up in the eye of the storm. While the adults screamed and screamed, he was left alone with the fact that Jacob was gone because of him. It hadn’t been intentional, but did that even make a difference?

 Eventually his family decided to move. They told anyone who listened they weren’t running from the accusations, they merely worried for Jared and his future. Anyone who asked Jared how he felt was met with silence and averted eyes.

 Two months after his birthday, Jared’s family left their town, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, and the Bucking Bull behind.

 But it wasn’t finished with him yet.

8 Years Ago

 His birthday had been empty.

 Not of fun, or of gifts, or of friends. No, of joy.

 Jared’s mind had finally begun to sift through his grief and guilt, and comprehend that if nothing else, feeling this broken and wrong wouldn’t bring Jacob back. He had emerged from his shell, and begun reaching out to people again. His trauma had been present, but buried, muffled.

 Now, though, it was as if every cry of “Happy Birthday” sought to uncover the self-hate and agonizing regret that dwelled below. Every smiling face he saw brought horrible thoughts to his mind: “How am I going to kill you? What selfish mistake will I make to ruin everything?”

 Eventually it was too much for him. He excused himself and locked himself in his bedroom. His parents tried to coax him out with promises of presents and cakes, but he couldn’t even begin to care about such things. He simply laid quietly on his bed, hoping they’d leave. Soon enough they did, and he drifted off into the sweet release of sleep.

 But this was not a dreamless slumber.

 Jared opened his eyes and picked himself off the dusty ground. “What…”

 He immediately realized this was a dream, which had never happened to him before. It seemed like a lucid dream. After he’d first heard the term a few years ago, he’d spent weeks attempting to trigger one, not that he had any idea how to do that.

 Still, this didn’t even feel like that. The environment felt- for lack of a better term- real. His eyes even watered a bit at the dust he’d kicked up while he moved. Jared tried to get a bearing of his surroundings.

 He was in a small, fenced-in square. A firm wooden fence lined it, and beyond there was nothing but unnerving, endless void. There was nothing left to see.

 Then, a snarl from the middle of the ring. And yes, Jared was certain this was a ring.

 Sure enough, a cloud of dust was being kicked up at the center by the Bucking Bull. This wasn’t the first time this reminder of his past had stampeded through his dreams, but he could tell it had always just been flotsam, drifting in and out, like anything else your mind occupied itself with during the day. But this dream felt like it had been made for the Bull. Not only that, the Bull was not right. The plastic form itself wasn’t the disturbing part- it was the same bucking ride which had gobbled Jared’s quarters for months, though its eyes were now empty sockets. What scared him were the additions- the arms and legs it used to stamp the ground even now. And yes, that was the right term- arms and legs. They were smaller than the Bull, in a way that would be comical under different circumstances, and clearly belonged to a child.

 To Jacob.

 The boy and Bull had fused into one horrifying hybrid of man and machine. A hybrid that came charging at Jared.

 So enraptured by the monstrosity, Jared didn’t even move. The Bull bucked upwards, and its horns (had they always been so long and pointy?) impaled Jared.

 Jared screamed. The pain was real- more real than any dream had any right to be. He could feel fractured bone shifting in his torso, and he struggled to breathe. Warm blood cascaded out, forming a dark stain on his shirt.

 The creature huffed, in a way that indicated grim satisfaction. It braced its hands against his body and pulled its horns out. Jared collapsed to the ground.

 At least, he would have. As he fell, he suddenly awoke in a cold sweat. Jared was shell-shocked. “What- what was that?” he whispered to himself. What chilled him most of all was that it felt like he had woken just as his dream-self died. As if he had only been allowed to wake because that thing had finished with him.

 That thing…

 “Jacob. That was you.” Jared didn’t know if Jacob was still present, but he spoke anyway. It was insane to say, but it was true- some figment of Jacob had returned to torment him.

 Jared didn’t sleep the rest of the night. He wouldn’t sleep for many more nights.

5 Years Ago

 It was like tradition at this point.

 Eventually Jared returned to some sense of normalcy after that first nightmare. But it wouldn’t be the last. His following birthday bore the same fruit- the same horrid dream, down to the smallest detail and up to the grisly end. He attempted to stay awake the whole night the year after, but failed (Jared was unsure if it was supernatural interference or if he just wasn’t good at staying up that long). Three made a pattern, and Jared accepted his fate- annual torment that he honestly felt he deserved.

 In a way it was almost relieving. This birthday was the best one he’d had since his mistake, because he no longer felt the guilty need to torture himself- someone else was doing it for him. And today had truly been great- his parents, who had been quite distant lately, treated him and his friends to dinner at a great Mexican place in town. He’d gotten some great gifts, including flying lessons from his parents (He’d always wanted to be a pilot). Overall, it had been one of the best days he’d had in years, and made him reluctant to climb into bed. He knew this wouldn’t be a pleasant sleep, but what choice did he have?

 After a restless hour, bracing for what was to come, Jared drifted off. As expected, he found himself in that arena. It was the same as always.

 At least, until the Bull appeared. Jared could never see it happen- it always materialized just out of sight. Still, he heard the huff, and turned. The Bull had changed. Rather than being just as it was with the grotesque additions of its limbs, the abomination before him was constructed of marbled flesh, bone, and muscle. It looked greasy and rotten, and there was a long, needle-toothed mouth along its upper back, from which a deep growl emanated. Its head was covered in several extra eyes, which all glared at Jared accusingly. Even in his dream, he could feel vomit rising in his throat.

 That was nothing compared to what happened when it spoke.

 “JARED.”

“I SAW YOU. YOUR PARTY.”

“YOU WERE LAUGHING. SMILING.

“YOU KNOW YOU DON’T DESERVE THAT.”

 The Bull’s words were a kick in the gut. And yet, Jared felt like it was right. He had always known he didn’t deserve any happiness, but tried to deny it.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU DESERVE. THIS PLACE HERE.”

“YOU WILL DIE, OVER AND OVER AGAIN.”

“YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES.”

“YOUR CARELESSNESS.”

“YOUR SELFISHNESS.”

“YOU WILL SUFFER. AND YOUR SUFFERING WILL HAVE NO END.”

 With that, the abomination- a stitched-up, bleeding reminder that Jared wasn’t worthy of joy- charged and gored.

 Jared didn’t even put up a fight.

1 Year Ago

 It had to just be in his head.

 Not the Bull, no. Jared knew very well that that was real. Each year they became more brutal. The pain of his goring wasn’t just familiar- he knew it like he knew the flight controls of a plane, except he had no power to change the course. What was in question was the feeling of agony that occasionally erupted from his torso while he was awake. It was like two red-hot knives were being driven into his chest, puncturing organs and cracking ribs.

 Obviously it was the Bull’s horns. But that had always been confined to his dreams.

 He had made certain to have no plans the day after his birthday: he usually needed the time to recover from the increasingly violent mental assaults. But a particularly vicious spike of pain left him speeding to the hospital, praying they’d have a rational answer for what was wrong with him.

 He eventually was looked over by a woman named Dr Gray. She ran some tests, but still couldn’t find anything wrong- at least, until she had some technicians run an x-ray.

 Jared waited in the examination room for a few minutes, before she reentered looking concerned.

 “Ok, so I got a look at the x-ray in the lab, and I can bring it up here on this screen. Maybe you can explain the…oddity present.”

 Dr Gray grabbed a remote and flicked the screen to display the scan. It showed Jared’s torso, most prominently his ribcage. The bones looked slightly bent and displayed cracks.

 “It appears your ribcage was broken, but not severely. In fact, it looks like it healed more quickly than should be possible. Even stranger, some examination of the fractures gives the impression this injury occurred multiple times.”

 She sighed. “Can you shed some light on this? Even apart from the bizarre nature of your condition, there is no reason it should be causing pain like this.”

 Jared hesitated, before deciding to let a little of the truth slip. “I’ve had this recurring nightmare for years. I’m trapped with a monster, and it always kills me, goring me on its horns right there. It feels so real. Do you think that might have anything to do with it?”

 Dr Gray frowned. “There’s a known phenomena called psychogenic pain, where your psychology and emotions can cause you to imagine pain. It could even result in true physical symptoms, but nothing this severe. And this is severe.

 The damage is building up, and the bones are weaker than they’d otherwise be. I fear if whatever has been happening to you occurs one more time, it could completely fracture your rib cage. This could very well be fatal.”

 She began prescribing an anti-anxiety medication for his dreams, which was hardly a novel experience for Jared. The last word echoed through his mind: FATAL.

 Was this what Jacob had intended the whole time? Not just mental torment for the sake of it, but to slowly wear down his body. Now, he was running out of time.

 Jared didn’t deserve this.

 It was such an absurd thought. He had spent nearly a decade enduring the attacks of the demonic Bull because he felt like it was his punishment. He was a bad person, who had killed a boy. But now, when confronted with death, he wasn’t sure. Did he really deserve everything he had suffered, for what had ultimately been a mistake? Why shouldn’t he be allowed a happy life?

 These questions piling up in his head were a shock to the system. Jared had never even questioned his place. But now, he was tired of being pushed around, and he was angry that Jacob would do this to him. Yes, as bizarre as it sounded, Jacob had crossed a line in the quest for post-mortem vengeance he’d set out on. And he needed to be stopped.

 No matter how long it took.

Now

 “Cutting it close, are we?” Jared sighed as he pulled into the abandoned parking lot.

 He had begun his mission of searching for the Bull mere days after his troubling diagnosis. Jared had assumed it was still located in his hometown pizzeria, which had closed shortly after Jacob’s death. Alas, it wasn’t so simple. Jared was somewhat disgusted to learn the company had simply relocated the best animatronics and attractions to other restaurants, which included the Bucking Bull.

 From there the ride had been pawned off from place to place. Over one six-month period, it had gone from a junkyard to a local sports bar to a Fazbear location to an inflatable-attraction renter. From what Jared could learn, the ride no longer functioned well, and carried a rotting smell no matter how much it was washed, thus no one holding onto it long after it was purchased. But Jared had finally pinned it down. The most recent Freddy Fazbear’s it had been installed in had quickly folded, and no one had touched its contents since.

 And here he was. Jared stepped out of his pickup truck, a crowbar in one hand and a holstered pistol at his side. “One way or another, it ends tonight.”

 The doors were boarded up, but he easily pried them off. He walked inside the building, scanning for the machine.

 The info Jared had received was accurate. The restaurant hadn’t even been touched- rows of arcade games without any gaps, and the three animatronics powered down on the main stage. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was just closed for the night.

 The Bull wasn’t in sight, though. It had been purchased extremely recently; perhaps it was still uninstalled, stored in the back?

 Jared spotted a door at the back: STAFF ONLY. “Good place to start, I guess.”

  He swiftly walked across the main room, but paused. Had he just heard a voice, echoing through the empty restaurant?

 No, no. It was in his head.

 But was that enough to say it wasn’t real?

 Jared grasped the doorknob and turned. The door swung open, and there it was.

 The Bucking Bull.

 He hadn’t seen it for a decade in its ordinary state, surely it would be easier to stomach than the flesh beast that haunted his dreams? Nothing but a torso and head molded from shiny black plastic. And yet he almost vomited. It was all coming back- the control panel, the red duct tape with a scrawled warning, the smashed, bloody skull of his best friend.

 Jared stumbled forward, trembling. The platform around the bull had been deflated, leaving nothing but the central motor with trailing wires. It was dead center in the room, surrounded by other animatronic parts- almost like it was a place of honor.

 With all his strength, Jared raised his crowbar. He closed his eyes, and brought it down onto the machine’s plastic head-

 CLANG

 Before Jared even opened his eyes he knew something was wrong. That wasn’t the hollow sound of metal hitting plastic. That was the harsh sound of metal striking metal. However, that observation didn’t prepare him for what he saw.

 Before him stood the Bull- yes, stood. Silently, and faster than Jared thought possible, the Bull had gained legs formed of nearby parts. It had swiftly brought one up to block his blow, and had succeeded.

 Jared couldn’t even process this before the limb reshifted, closing around his crowbar, gripping it tight. It pulled it out of his grasp and threw it against the wall.

 Jared tried to scream, but no sound came out. The Bull approached, lumbering along on its horrible legs of mangled metal. Once it was within a foot of him, it spoke.

“JARED.”

“THANK YOU FOR COMING.”

“BUT PLEASE. CEASE THIS NONSENSE.”

 Jared wasn’t sure if it read his mind or the confused expression on his face, because it clarified.

“THESE DELUSIONS THAT THIS IS A FIGHT YOU SHOULD WIN.”

“YOU DESERVE TO DIE. I THOUGHT YOU HAD FINALLY UNDERSTOOD WHEN YOU CAME.”

“THAT OUR BOUTS WITHIN YOUR HEAD WERE AN INVITATION. YOUR MOUNTING INJURIES MY WAY OF LIGHTING A FIRE UNDER YOU.”

“YOU WERE MEANT TO COME READY TO DIE. YOUR FINAL BREATH BEGETTING LONG OVERDUE JUSTICE.”

“PERHAPS NOW YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?”

 Jared did. He stopped his slow retreat. He lowered his arms from their defensive pose. And he prepared to die.

 The Bull’s leg reshaped again, into a long, oily spike of gears and pistons. It positioned it against Jared’s chest- one slight movement would drive it through his heart.

 “I’m sorry, Jacob.” Jared said, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He knew it would earn him no mercy from the Bull, and he hardly felt he deserved any, but he just felt the need to say it.

 And then, a voice.

 “Jared, please! Run!”

 Jacob.

 Jared gasped, and somewhat awoke from his trance. He grabbed the Bull’s limb and twisted it away from himself. The Bull was clearly thrown off guard, and stumbled backwards. This gave Jared the chance to run.

 He burst out of the backroom and into the main showroom. He ducked behind an arcade machine and tried to be as quiet as possible.

 The backroom door slammed open, and Jared could hear the lumbering Bull, creaking on its amalgamated limbs.

 As the monster moved, Jared tried to concentrate. “Jacob?” he thought as strongly as he could, hoping his friend would be able to hear.

 “Hey, Jared.”

 Suddenly, the world around Jared collapsed, and he resurfaced in the ring. The same place that had been home to so many deaths. But it felt different, more peaceful in a weird way.

 And standing there was Jacob- a short brown-haired kid in a striped shirt, smiling awkwardly. There were no remnants on his body of his fatal injury.

 Jared stared, unsure of what to say. Eventually he forced himself to speak. “Uh, hey. Why’d you tell me to run?”

 Jacob stared back, confused. “Because you were just standing there even though you were about to be stabbed?”

 “But isn’t that what you wanted? Weren’t you just telling me about how I deserved to die?”

 Jacob sighed. “Jared, that wasn’t me. I’m not the Bucking Bull.”

 “What?!” Jared asked incredulously. “Then why are you here?”

 “Ok, maybe I sort of am. Ever since…the accident, when I died, I’ve possessed the Bull. I’m not sure why, it just sort of happened. But I’m not the one that tormented you in your dreams and is trying to kill you now.”

 “Who is?”

 “You.”

 There was a completely deafening silence. “No.” Jared muttered. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not trying to kill myself.”

 “In some subconscious way, you are. I’m not an expert on how this works, but from my time as a spirit, I’ve learned that the emotions of the living and the dead are powerful. They can animate nonliving objects, or hurt people. And one of the most powerful emotions is guilt.”

 “So you’re saying because I felt bad for killing you this thing is gonna kill me? I haven't even been close to it since what happened.”

 “First off, my theory is that since you knew the Bull so well, and it was so directly connected to your guilt, it caused a connection that helped your emotions be transferred no matter how far away you got. And secondly, stop saying you killed me.”

 “What do you want me to say?!” Jared cried. His knees trembled, and he fell to the dusty ground. “I messed with the controls of a ride you were on, all because I wanted to keep a stupid high score! You’d be alive today if not for me. Maybe the Bull- maybe I- was right all along. I don’t deserve to live.”

 Jared felt a hand on his shoulder. “You’re wrong.” Jacob said. “You made a dumb mistake. You were eleven. I’m glad you’re willing to accept responsibility, but you can’t let your guilt tear you apart.”

 Jared wiped his eyes. “Why are you even comforting me? Why is this your problem?”

 Jacob grinned. “Honestly? I think this is why I stayed after I died. You’re my friend. I wanted to help you.”

 Suddenly, the arena was consumed with unimaginably bright light. “Guess that’s my cue.” Jacob said as the white consumed him. “Good luck, Jared. See you again, someday.”

 When the light faded, Jared could see the dusty arena- his place of self-torment- was gone.

 And then Jared awoke. He was back in the pizzeria, and the Bull was still raging.

 Quietly, with no urgency, Jared climbed to his feet and walked out from behind the arcade machine.

 The Bull caught him out of the corner of its eye. It snarled, and stamped the ground, preparing to charge.

 “Listen.” Jared began. “I know what you are now. You’re me.”

 The Bull barely reacted.

 “I made a mistake. And because of that, Jacob died. For so long, I’ve been unable to forgive myself.”

YOU DON’T DESERVE FORGIVENESS.

 “I’m not denying what I did. But torturing myself like this won’t bring Jacob back. He’s forgiven me; maybe I should too.”

JUSTICE MUST BE SERVED.

 “You are kind of right. I left town so quickly, it didn’t give me the chance to do some things. Apologize to Jacob’s family, and his friends…I should do that.” Jared stared the beast down, determined. “But I won’t accept you killing me. I’m done being haunted by a past I can’t change.”

 There was silence. It was as if the Bull was, for the first time, struggling to condemn him.

I JUST WANT PEACE. FOR THIS NIGHTMARE WE BEGAN TO END.

 “Then end it.”

 The Bull was still. Then, it crumbled. The plastic body hit the ground with a THUD, and the metal joints and limbs it had used clattered apart.

 The Bull was gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jared slid into his car, tossing his crowbar into the back seat. He pulled out of the parking lot, and eventually made it onto the highway.

 The sun peered over the horizon, coloring the distance pink and red. The rolled-down windows ushered a calming, cool breeze into the vehicle. The world was alive and hopeful, and for the first time in almost a decade Jared felt the same.

 “Thank you, Jacob.” he said quietly, once again certain there would be no answer.

 He continued his drive, making sure to enjoy the dawn as he went.

[pbrsource]

RIP Chicken on a Chain

[landmodsblog]

BUILDING TRUST: ESTABLISHING A STRONG CONNECTION WITH YOUR RODEO CATTLE

As a seasoned cowboy, you recognize the significance of building trust with your rodeo cattle. In this captivating article, we explore the crucial aspect of forging a powerful connection and mutual understanding between handler and bovine athlete. By delving into proven techniques, you can earn the respect and cooperation of your cattle, enabling you to showcase your skills with confidence and…

[califarmer831]

Bullet the Bull

[rocklnds]

it's all fun and games until the cowboy is scared of a little kitty cat [OUTER RANGE SEASON TWO ✵ EPISODE ONE]

[moodbroads]

oh- cervidae!!? XDD

but oh... cervidae.. <3

[disciplined-cornfed]

🐃 Bucking Bronco 🐂

Jake slouched in his office chair, eyes glazed over from hours of staring at a computer screen. The city buzzed around him, but he felt numb to it. The relentless clamor, the towering buildings, the rush of people—it was draining. The city had once been exciting, but now it just felt like a cage.

He sighed, leaning back, wondering if this was it. His life had turned into a cycle: work, home, sleep, repeat. There had to be more. He longed for something simpler, something that felt real.

That evening, he found himself at a local dive bar, his usual escape. As he nursed his drink, a figure caught his eye—a man at the other end of the bar. Broad-shouldered, dressed in a worn flannel, cowboy boots tapping lightly against the floor, and a cowboy hat perched low on his head. He looked out of place in the city but completely at ease. The man’s presence radiated confidence, something Jake hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jake couldn’t help but stare. The man caught his gaze, raised an eyebrow, and motioned for Jake to come over.

“What’s eatin’ at ya?” the man asked in a low, easy drawl. His voice was calm, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

Jake chuckled nervously. “Life, I guess. Just feels like I’m stuck.”

The cowboy grinned, flashing a bit of understanding. “You look like you’re searching for something, son. I used to be in the same boat, till I figured out what I needed.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The cowboy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping through something until he found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, sliding the phone across the table. “Watch this video. Changed my life, and it might just do the same for you.”

Jake hesitated, then grabbed the phone. It was a subliminal—the screen flashed with phrases like “strength,” “discipline,” “confidence,” and “cowboy.” He smirked. Subliminals? He didn’t buy into that kind of thing, but something about this man, his confidence, his calmness—it was intriguing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” Jake said, not fully convinced.

The cowboy tipped his hat. “Might be what you’re lookin’ for, son. Embrace it, and you’ll be surprised where it takes you.”

The next morning, Jake sat at his kitchen table, staring at his phone, his curiosity getting the better of him. He hit play on the video. The music was soft at first, but soon it picked up—a low hum of country tunes overlaid with affirmations. Phrases flashed on the screen: strength, discipline, focus, cowboy grit.

Jake scoffed at first but decided to let it play while he worked from home. The video rolled on in the background, and slowly, something inside him began to shift.

Over the next few days, Jake felt… different. It was subtle at first, almost like a shift in the background of his mind, but as the days went on, the change became undeniable. At work, where the constant hum of city life usually gnawed at him, something had shifted. The noise of the city—horns blaring, engines rumbling, people rushing past in a frenzy—had always felt like an attack on his senses. But now, it was like his mind had learned to filter it out. The overwhelming rush of coworkers demanding this and that suddenly felt less important, like background noise rather than a storm he had to weather. Jake wasn’t reacting to every little inconvenience like before. Instead, he felt… steady.

He couldn’t explain it, but it was as if something inside him had found its footing. Where there had been anxiety, there was now calm. Where there had been stress, there was a sense of grounded strength. It was almost as if nothing could shake him anymore, as if he had discovered a deeper part of himself that thrived on patience and discipline. The chaos of the city didn’t matter as much now, because somewhere inside him, he was becoming someone bigger, someone stronger than the noise around him.

Then there was the gym.

Jake had always been someone who dabbled in working out. He’d go for a jog every now and then, maybe hit the weights when he felt guilty about skipping too many days, but it had never been serious. Now, though, something inside him had woken up. There was an urge that hadn’t been there before, a desire to push himself that felt raw and real.

One evening after work, instead of heading straight home like usual, Jake found himself walking into the gym with a sense of purpose. Without even thinking about it, he made his way to the free weights, eyeing the barbell in front of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to load more weight than he ever had before. Maybe it was the subliminal taking effect, or maybe it was something deeper within him that had finally stirred awake.

He gripped the bar, feeling the strain as he hoisted it up. The weight was heavy—heavier than anything he’d lifted in a long time—but instead of stopping when his muscles began to ache, he pushed through it. There was a strange kind of satisfaction in the burn, in knowing that he was going beyond his limits. Strength and discipline became his mantras as he lifted, each rep feeling like a step toward something bigger, something stronger. It was no longer just about the physical challenge; it was about mastering himself.

By the time he left the gym, drenched in sweat, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years—pride. Not just in the effort he’d put in, but in the realization that he could be more. That night, as he showered and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, something else caught his attention. His shoulders—they looked broader. His arms seemed fuller, his chest tighter. He brushed it off as the post-workout pump, but the next morning, when he looked again, the change was still there.

As the days passed, the transformation continued. Jake’s body wasn’t just changing—it was growing. His shirts started to fit differently, snug across his chest and arms. He found himself flexing in front of the mirror after every gym session, admiring the way his muscles swelled under his skin. The pleasure he took from seeing his growing physiquewas undeniable, and with each flex, he felt a surge of confidence he hadn’t known he needed.

It was satisfying in a way he never anticipated. The bulky cowboy build he had admired on the man in the bar—the cowboy who had given him the video—was now becoming his own. He felt powerful in a way that was more than just physical. It was as if the strength he was building in the gym was seeping into his mind, reinforcing that calm, grounded feeling he’d been experiencing.

But it wasn’t just his body that was transforming—his mind was changing too.

Jake’s tastes began to shift in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He found himself taking an interest in things that had once seemed distant, even irrelevant. At first, it was subtle—a feeling, a slight tug when he passed a country station on the radio. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something about the twang of the guitar and the way the lyrics captured a sense of simplicity, of life lived at a slower, more meaningful pace.

He resisted it at first, brushing it off as a fluke, but as the days passed, country music started to sneak its way into his playlists. It wasn’t long before he found himself actively seeking it out, drawn to the stories being told in the songs—the honesty, the grit, the appreciation for the small things. Lyrics about long dirt roads, endless skies, and working with your hands spoke to something deep within him, something that felt almost forgotten.

The more he listened, the more it felt like home—a place he had never been but somehow knew. The noise of the city, once his soundtrack, began to feel hollow, like it was missing something real. The lyrics in the songs reminded him of a life that was stripped down, pure, and authentic, and as he absorbed more, he felt a pull inside, something that whispered that this was the life he had been missing. It was as though the music was gently coaxing him to remember who he was meant to be.

It wasn’t just the music. Images of open fields, horses galloping, the simple joy of watching the sunset from a porch—all of it stirred something in him. It was like a veil had lifted, and he began to see the appeal of the cowboy lifestyle. The rush of city life, the constant pressure to move, to climb, to consume—it all started to feel like a distant memory, something that had once held meaning but now seemed meaningless.

One weekend, without much thought, Jake wandered into a western wear store. The smell of leather hit him as soon as he walked through the door, earthy and rich, filling the air with a sense of tradition and strength. For a moment, he hesitated, glancing around the store with a bit of uncertainty. This wasn’t him, he thought, or at least, not the version of himself he’d always known. The Jake who wore button-down shirts and polished shoes didn’t belong in a place like this.

But then, something shifted. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a pull. The smell of the leather, the rows of cowboy boots, the racks of flannel shirts—it all felt right. Like he had been here before, like he belonged. He found his feet moving almost automatically, drawn toward a pair of cowboy boots that caught his eye—classic, brown leather, with a worn-in look that spoke of adventure and resilience. Without much thought, he picked them up and tried them on. They fit perfectly.

The feeling didn’t stop there. His hands moved to a pair of jeans, thick and sturdy, built for work, not just for show. Next came the flannel shirt, its weight and warmth settling over his shoulders as if it was made for him. Each item felt like it was calling to him, like they were pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he needed to complete.

When he stepped into the changing room and put them all on together—the boots, the jeans, the flannel—he felt something click. As he looked at himself in the mirror, his breath caught. The man staring back at him was different. The broad shoulders, the muscular arms that strained against the fabric of the flannel, the rugged look—he didn’t just see a reflection. He saw strength, capability, a man who was connected to the earth, to something primal and real. He looked like someone who worked with his hands, who knew how to take care of himself.

He flexed, watching his biceps swell under the fabric, the seams stretching with the movement. A grin spread across his face. He felt powerful, like he was stepping into the man he was always meant to be—one who was grounded, strong, and in control. There was a pleasure in it, a satisfaction that came not just from how he looked but from how it made him feel inside. The clothes were more than just clothes. They were a symbol of the change he was undergoing, a physical manifestation of the strength he had been building—both inside and out.

It wasn’t long before hunting and fishing became his weekend routine. Jake found himself rising with the sun, craving the stillness of early mornings by the lake or in the woods, rifle slung over his shoulder, or fishing rod in hand. There was something almost meditative about it—the way the world felt calm and silent, the only sound his breath, the crunch of dirt under his boots, the rustle of leaves in the wind. The quiet of nature was the opposite of the city, and it gave him something the city never could: peace.

But it was more than just peace. The patience required in hunting, the skill needed to wait for just the right moment—it all felt right. Every time he lined up his shot or cast his line, he felt connected to something ancient, something essential. The physical strength he had built in the gym had a purpose here. It wasn’t just for looks. It made him feel capable, in control, like he could handle anything the world threw at him.

The rest of his old life started to fade away. The noisy nights at crowded bars, the constant pressure to stay on top of things that didn’t really matter—it all started to seem so… irrelevant. Instead, Jake started watching videos made by cowboy content creators, following guys who lived the life he was slowly stepping into. They talked about rodeo, horse riding, and working on trucks. He found himself nodding along, absorbing every bit of their wisdom, eager to learn.

It wasn’t just learning—it was becoming. He was becoming something more, something truer to himself. One afternoon, as he got under his pickup truck to change the oil, his hands covered in grease, he couldn’t help but smile. This was real. The feel of the tools in his hands, the satisfaction of fixing something with his own strength—it was what he had been missing all along. Each turn of the wrench, each smear of grease on his skin felt like a connection to the life he was embracing.

For the first time in his life, Jake felt truly in control. Not just of his body, but of his mind, his life. He was becoming the man he was always meant to be—a cowboy, through and through.

Finally, after weeks of change, Jake found himself back at the same bar where it all started. The city lights flickered outside, but they seemed dull compared to the quiet strength he felt within himself. He walked into the bar, boots heavy against the wooden floor, his stride confident, his presence commanding. The weight of his broad shoulders, the bulkof his arms straining against his flannel, and the calm demeanor he now carried set him apart from the crowd. He felt more than just different—he felt like he belonged somewhere else, somewhere deeper.

The cowboy was there again, sitting at the counter, his hat tipped low. It felt like a full circle, like Jake had come back not as the man he had been but as the cowboy he had become. He slid onto the stool next to the man, a quiet confidence radiating from him.

The cowboy glanced up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, look at you, partner. You’ve changed.”

Jake nodded. “More than I expected. I didn’t realize how far off track I’d gotten.”

The cowboy chuckled, his voice steady and warm. “That’s life. Sometimes you lose sight of what’s real, what’s true. But it looks like you found your way back.”

Jake looked down at his hands, calloused now from working on his truck, from hunting, fishing, and lifting at the gym. He didn’t need to say anything. He felt it in every fiber of his being. Strength, not just in his body, but in his mind and in the way he faced the world. He had become something more—grounded, disciplined, and powerful. He wasn’t just another city guy trying to fit in. He was a cowboy, inside and out.

But as Jake looked around the bar, he noticed something else. He saw others, the way they slouched in their chairs, glued to their phones, drowning their stress in drinks. It was the way he used to be, always chasing something but never feeling truly connected to anything real. Now, he could see it so clearly—the potential in them, untapped, waiting to be unleashed. They were like ponies, timid, lost, unaware of the strength they held inside, waiting to become bucking broncos—waiting for someone to show them the way.

Over the next few weeks, Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to do more, not just for himself, but for others. He had found something real, something powerful, and he wanted to share it. When he talked to his friends, his coworkers, even strangers he met at the gym, he could see it in their eyes—that same restlessness he once felt. The dissatisfaction with the grind, the search for something meaningful.

Jake started to subtly plant the seeds, talking about his transformation, about the cowboy code he had adopted, the simplicity of the country life. At first, they were skeptical—laughing off his suggestions, joking about his new flannel-and-boots look—but Jake didn’t mind. He could see beyond their reactions. He could see the potential in them, the part of them that craved the same thing he had craved—freedom, strength, and a sense of purpose.

“You’re chasing the wrong things,” he would tell them, his voice calm and confident. “You don’t need the city noise, the pressure, the constant distractions. What you need is something real. Something that makes you stronger—inside and out.”

Some brushed him off. But others… others listened. Slowly, they started to come to him for advice, curious about the changes they saw in him. Jake became a mentor, guiding them through the same steps he had taken. He showed them how to build physical strength, but more importantly, he showed them how to find mental strength. How to stay calm under pressure, how to live with honor and discipline, and how to embrace the cowboy lifestyle that had given him so much clarity.

He started taking a few of them to the gym, pushing them through workouts the way he had pushed himself, watching with pride as their bodies began to change. But it wasn’t just about the physical transformation. It was about helping them unlock that mental resilience, the calm strength that had become his foundation. He encouraged them to get out of the city, to take up hunting, fishing, and working with their hands. He knew that the more they embraced the cowboy code, the stronger they would become, not just in their bodies but in their minds and in the way they faced life.

For Jake, it was about more than just muscle or a new wardrobe. It was about turning ponies into broncos—guiding those who felt lost or weak into becoming the powerful, capable people he knew they could be. He could see the wild strength in them, the potential to break free from the chains of their old lives and ride through life with confidence, just as he had.

Each day, he watched them transform—slowly at first, then with more certainty. Their shoulders squared, their voices deepened, their confidence growing with each step they took toward the cowboy life. Jake felt a surge of pride with every person he helped, knowing he was giving them more than just advice. He was giving them the tools to become themselves, the strongest, most resilient versions of who they were meant to be.

One evening, after a long day of working with a few of his friends, Jake found himself back at the same bar where his journey had started. He leaned back against the bar, cowboy boots scuffed and dusty, his flannel rolled up to his elbows. He smiled as he glanced around the room, noticing the subtle changes in the people he’d helped. He’d started something—something bigger than himself.

The cowboy from that first night appeared again, almost like a figure of fate. He sidled up next to Jake at the bar, his familiar grin back in place. “Looks like you’ve been busy, partner.”

Jake nodded, his voice steady. “More than I thought I’d be. They’re coming around, one by one.”

The cowboy tipped his hat, looking around the bar, the room filled with people who were on the same path Jake had once walked. “That’s the thing about cowboys,” he said, voice low. “We don’t just ride for ourselves. We ride for others. Show them the way.”

Jake smiled, looking down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”

As he stood there, feeling the quiet satisfaction of not just his own transformation but the changes he had sparked in others, Jake realized that he had become more than just a cowboy. He had become a leader—someone who lived by the cowboy code, someone who helped others find their way back to what was real.

And as he looked around the bar, he knew he wasn’t done. There were still ponies out there—waiting to become broncos.

[balladofthe101st]

Buck Compton came back to see the Company to let us know that he was alright. He became a prosecutor in Los Angeles. He convicted Sirhan Sirhan in the murder of Robert Kennedy, and was later appointed to the California Court of Appeals. 

David Webster became a writer for the Saturday Evening Post and Wall Street Journal, and later wrote and book about sharks. In 1961, he went out on the ocean alone, and was never seen again.

Johnny Martin would return to his job at the railroad and then start his own construction company. He splits his time between Arizona and a place in Montana.

George Luz became a handyman in Providence, Rhode Island. As a testament to his character, sixteen hundred people attended his funeral in 1998.

Doc Roe died in Louisiana in 1998. He’d been a construction contractor.

Frank Perconte returned to Chicago and worked a postal route as a mailman.

Joe Liebgott returned to San Francisco and drove his cab.

Bull Randleman was one of the best soldiers I ever had. He went into the earth moving business in Arkansas. He’s still there.

Alton More returned to Wyoming with a unique souvenir: Hitler’s personal photo albums. He was killed in a car accident in 1958.

Floyd Talbert we all lost touch with in civilian life, until he showed up at a reunion just before his death in 1981.

Carwood Lipton became a glass making executive in charge of factories all over the world. He has a nice life in North Carolina.

Harry Welsh – he married Kitty Grogan. Became an administrator for the Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania school system.

Ronald Speirs stayed in the Army, served in Korea. In 1958, returned to Germany as Governor of Spandau Prison. He retired a Lieutenant Colonel.

Lewis Nixon had some tough times after the war. He was divorced a couple of times. Then in 1956, he married a woman named Grace and everything came together for him. He spent the rest of his life with her, travelling the world. My friend Lew died in 1995.

I took up his job offer and was a personnel manager at the Nixon Nitration Works, until I was called back into service in 1950 to train officers and rangers. I chose not to go to Korea. I’d had enough of war. I stayed around Hershey, Pennsylvania, finally finding a little farm. A little peaceful corner of the world, where I still live today. And there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of the men I served with who never got to enjoy the world without war.

[iceiceicecold]

What Your Favorite Band of Brothers character says about you (revamped and based on personal experiences)

Winters- You’re either a pretty level headed person or your life is in complete shambles and you find comfort in characters that know how to handle stress.

Nixon- You love a good self destructive character and more than likely see yourself in them. Also, how is your undiagnosed mental illness treating u lately?

Lipton- You just want to be held and cared for so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

Speirs- You most DEFINITELY read wattpad stories as a kid. The mafia kind. You’re also unnecessarily horny on the internet and probably say he’s “Lana-coded.”

Roe- You love a good tragic and tortured character, I’ll give you that. You also listen to boygenius and love religious imagery.

Babe- I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re on some type of lgbt or autism spectrum.

Liebgott- You have a really weird self-confidence complex and read a LOT of enemies to lovers. I’m lowkey scared of you even though you’ve probably never hit anyone in your life.

Webster- You’re an artist at heart and view the world in a way that might set you apart from your peers. You can never and will never tell if that’s a good or a bad thing. Also you call grown men “babygirl.”

Guarnere- You have TERRIBLE taste in men and can never tell the difference between being mean or flirting.

Toye- Ditto ^ but also may I add you probably have a thing for people in uniform.

Buck- You are a very simple person. You like everything to just be kind of normal and calm all of the time. Sometimes you dip your toes in the water, but it’s more of a once a year kind of thing. Your favorite superhero as a kid was Captain America.

Luz- You are just cool. Very Ferris Beuller, Bill and Ted, Matthew Lillard kind of cool. You’re also probably transmasc or into guys to some degree.

Shifty- You’re either one of those “omg smol bean” people or you just love a good ray of sunshine kind of character. Your favorite pony as a kid was probably Fluttershy.

Malarkey- I’m so deeply upset just looking into your eyes dawg you need to take a nap and book a therapy session. Not a single one of you guys is completely and totally stable.

Renee- You so desperately wanted this show to pass the bechdel test and wished more women were included in the production. You’re also into women.

Perconte- You’re either really cool or you’re really annoying. No inbetween.

Bull- You really liked the SNL “Big Boy” skit with SZA

Muck- You want to be the funny friend so bad and you’re still not sure if you’ve earned that title yet. Mad respect though bc I know ur ass has seen supernatural in full. More than once.

Welsh, Penkala, Spina, Talbert, Grant, Martin, Penkala, Hoobler, Skinny- Either you’re lying to be different or you genuinely love a good underrated background character.

Blithe- Mm you’re lying lol

Sobel- Hey, girl! What the fuck!

[lovelyd0gg]

People who are most likely to pass a test because they studied;

Eugene Roe, Richard Winters, Carwood Lipton, Buck Compton, Shifty Powers, Bull Randleman, David Webster

People who are most likely to pass because of luck;

Lewis Nixon, Joe Toye, Donald Malarkey, Donald Hoobler, Harry Welsh, Ronald Speirs, Wayne Sisk

People who are most likely to fucking fail;

George Luz, Frank Perconte, Skip Muck, Bill Guarnere, Joseph Liebgott.

[gremlinboykevin]

How to CORRECTLY hold your zombie Gremlin! Feat: Bella

How to INCORRECTLY hold your zombie Gremlin! Feat: La Leona

LMAO I just love the dynamic with this trio...

[redrcs]

Unexpected dismount

Kenilworth Rodeo.

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hilo! Can you do the easy boys with an extra ticklish reader?????

Easy co. dating an extra ticklish s/o!

a/n: Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I hope you enjoy lovely! 💗

genre: romance; fluff

warnings: sorry guys i used the word tickle like a 100 times in this, there’s a little suggestion!

description: The men of easy co. reacting to you (their s/o) being extra ticklish!

Taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

Dick Winters: He thinks it’s adorable. The first time he tickled you he probably wouldn’t even have meant to do it on purpose, like maybe his finger brushed beside your arm and you immediately started to laugh hysterically. He would think something was wrong with you until you told him lmao. He’ll keep it in mind though next time you try to tickle him.

Lewis Nixon: “Oh come on! You can’t run away now!” He’d figure out how ticklish you were when he decided it would be nice to give you a sweet kiss on your neck. Then he would completely take advantage of the fact that you are extremely ticklish there and start kissing the same spot over and over again.

Carwood Lipton: He would discover all of this when he was trying to be a gentleman to you and give you a nice foot massage after a long day on your feet. The moment he puts his hands on the back of your sole you would be in a giggling fit. He would sit there and look confused, waiting for some sort of joke. Once you told him, he would find it cute and laugh it off with you.

Joe Toye: When you tell him that you get ticklish very easily, he isn’t quite sure what to think of it at first. When he wraps his arms around your waist and sees you break into immediate laughter, he gets it then, and he finds it to be the cutest thing ever. He’ll tickle you over and over again just to hear that pretty laugh of yours.

Joe Liebgott: “Oh come on honey, you’re really that ticklish, huh? I guess I’ll have to keep that in mind for later then.” He honestly doesn’t believe you when you tell him how ticklish you were at first, but like nix, he’d try to be smooth and kiss your neck, and have you in a giggling fit in return. “Oh doll, it can’t be too bad, i’m just tryin’ to give ya’ some lovin’ that’s all.”

Bill Guarnere: I feel like this fucker here is going to make it into somethins sexual when it’s really not lmao. Like once he knows that you’re super ticklish, he's going to purposefully tickle you until you're begging for him to stop, and once you’re doing that he’s already in the mood to do something else iykyk. Better to just not tell him at all LOLL.

George Luz: When you tell him you can be extra ticklish at times he is taking that to his advantage 100%. If you guys are in the middle of some play fight and he knows you’re winning, he's gonna start tickling you, same for anything else you could be beating him at. Whenever he just wants to hear your laugh his immediate thought is to tickle you and it makes him feel SO happy

Eugene Roe: Now he wants to get into a million tickle battles with you. The sweetest thing about it is if he was hugging you or touching somewhere where you were ticklish he would ask if you were okay and if he needed to move his hand to make you comfortable. ( because he knows how frustrating that must get at times and he’d hate to accidentally hurt you.)

Bull Randleman: He doesn’t have much of a reaction when you tell him other than thinking that it’s a cute niche trait of yours. I think he wouldn’t really tickle you unless he was having a horrible day and just really needed to hear you laugh. Kinda like Bull, he'd be wary of touching one of your tickle spots and accidentally irritate that spot since you’re sensitive there.

Floyd Talbert: He’s similar to luz when you tell him that, he’s going to take it to his advantage and use it against you anytime he needs the upper hand (in a very playful way of course.) He’s also kinda like Bill too in the same way that he likes hearing you beg lol. Whenever you’re feeling sad, be ready to be tickled by him until you feel better haha.

Skip Muck: Oh gosh, once you tell him that you’re very ticklish he’s now going to tickle you every time you get some exciting news, need some cheering up, want some physical touch from him, literally anything possible, he just needs a reason to tickle you. He loves making sure your and his relationship is very lightweight and happy, and that's the best way to do it.

Don Malarkey: Honestly tickling you is his way of flirting with you before you guys ever got into an established romantic relationship. Once you guys are in that relationship he’ll still do it in a flirty way loll. He also really finds it as a form of intimacy, it's his way of being close to you, and seeing you smile always feels nice too.

Babe Heffron: “No way! Me too!” This is completely fanon but I have this idea in my head that he would also be extremely ticklish too. Like you and him would be trying to cuddle and both end up fighting for y’all’s lives because you guys are accidentally tickling each other. It’s also his biggest weapon against you so beware lol.

Shifty Powers: He would be the perfect partner for a very ticklish person because he knows when it's appropriate and not appropriate to do it. He knows that being tickled after a while can hurt, so if and when he is tickling you he won’t do it for too long. As long as you are laughing and having a good time then he’s good with it.

Frank Perconte: He’s the type of guy that likes to sneak up on you and tickle that spot on your neck when you’re focusing on something. He loves fucking with you like that. He knows that tickling you is your biggest weakness so he will use it against you anytime he needs the upper hand (Like floyd lmao.)

Ronald Speirs: You would tell him that you’re ticklish, but the horrible thing is, this man couldn’t be able to tickle someone correctly even if his life depended on it. The thing is, whenever he tries to tickle you he ends up digging his fingertips into you which just makes you hurt in the end. He gets an A for effort though.

Johnny Martin: He probably won’t tickle you a whole lot, mostly because he’s not always the most playful, but if you had started tickling him first he would definitely be there to finish it and win at the unspoken tickle war lol. He would be the guy to swear he’s just not ticklish but once you get to that one spot on his side, it’s game over for him.

Skinny Sisk: He’s just like Luz, he’s going to take full advantage of the fact that you’re super ticklish, he loves loves LOVES being playful with you so tickling is always a go-to for him. He also does it when he just really wants to be close to you but doesn’t know how to express that to you. His favorite spot to tickle you is gotta be that spot under your armpit.

Chuck Grant: He thinks it’s super adorable that you get so ticklish so easily. The only thing is, like Speirs, he isn’t very good at tickling at all LOL. He does this one thing that is so cute and it's called, “Hand tickling” which is just caressing your hand in a very fast way lmao. Not a very good tickler but he gets an A+ for creativity and effort.

David Webster: He doesn’t like tickling you a whole lot for a number of reasons, one because too much of it can stimulate seizures, brain aneurysm, and eventually death. (He’s just a tad bit dramatic lol.) And if he does tickle you it’s probably because you started it first. I could definitely see him doing it a lot by accident though.

Buck Compton: He’s like Skip in this scenario. Now just because you told him that you get ticklish very easily, he is going to go out of his way to try and tickle you almost 24/7. Like almost every other night before you and him go to bed, he’s giving himself some corny ass name like “The Tickle Monster” lmao.

Thank you for your cute request!! If you enjoyed, please make sure to like or reblog!! I love you all! <333

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