#The drunk rap horse

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 1: Break

A night out takes a turn. The first chapter of Yearling, a TLOU fan fiction. Find the Masterlist here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.6k

AO3 | Next Chapter

Friday, September 26, 2003

Dubois, Wyoming 

“They ain’t even that good,” you took a sip of beer, glaring at the girl in the short, white eyelet lace sundress standing near the band on stage. Your Texas accent got stronger when you were drunk. It also got stronger when you were pissed. You were speaking with a full blown drawl now. “I can play better n’them.” 

“Baby Doll, you can play better than everyone in town,” Justin leaned down, his head so close to you that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his lips brushing the shell of your ear when he spoke. His arm went around your waist. “Better than you is a damn a high bar…” 

You could hear the smile on his voice and you turned around in his arms to face him, eyes narrowed. 

“You’re lovin’ this,” you said. “I can tell, you’re just havin’ the time of your life…” 

“I ain’t gonna lie to you,” he smirked. “It is fun seein’ you get all worked up over a girl hittin’ on me.” 

“I am not!” You swatted his chest. “I just think it’s disrespectful, she saw me come in with you, she should know that you’re gonna dance with the one that brung ya…” 

“Hey,” he teased. “I brung you, not the other way ‘round…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, turning back around and taking another sip of beer just in time to see the girl in question heading to the bathroom with one of her friends. She looked a little green and you smiled a little. Served her right. You looked back up at Justin. “Don’t go thinkin’ you’re hot shit now just because I didn’t like some rancher’s daughter tryin’ to climb you like a tree.” 

“Oh I’d never dream that you thought I was hot shit,” he kissed your temple. “Don’t you worry. Need another?” 

“It’s Friday night and if I’m gonna listen to that band fuck up ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ you better goddamm well get me another,” you said. He just shook his head and worked his way up to the bar. You smiled a little, watching him go, rapping your fingers along the side of your almost empty beer bottle. 

You were getting attached to Justin. 

He’d started out as something fun to do over the summer when he showed up at the ranch you’d been working at for more than a year now. He was a few years older - not enough to make it scandalous but enough that he knew what the fuck he was doing. He was rugged and handsome and he was happy to buy you beer and whiskey because, at 19, getting your hands on the stuff was tricky. It had started in May with you fucking him. 

At first, that’s all it had been. After a few weeks of him staring at you when you were hanging tack back up at the end of the day, you all but cornered him in the barn. 

“You got some kind of problem with me, cowboy?” You snapped, getting so close to him that the brim of your hat almost caught his chin. 

“No I do not,” he replied. “Unless you count the fact that your ass looks way too damn good in those jeans to be doin’ nothin’ but ridin’ horses all day. Otherwise, I got the opposite of a problem with you.” 

“Oh,” you stepped back from him, looking him up and down. He was tall, broad, handsome. He reminded you a bit of the boy you’d lost your virginity to when you were 16 and he’d been working on your parents’ ranch back in Texas. “Well, I’m done for the day, headin’ back to my room. You’re welcome to join if you want to see what else I’m good at ridin’ on.” 

You turned and started off toward the bunkhouse. He scrambled to catch up with you and you smirked a little. He was definitely going to be fun. 

In August, he asked if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. You frowned, looking over at him, his naked body shiny with sweat. 

“Dinner,” you said, incredulous. “With me.” 

“That’s what I said,” he replied, looking over at you. “Unless there’s someone else you’d rather go to dinner with…” 

“You realize you’re already fucking me, right?” You frowned. “You don’t have to try.” 

“Oh trust me, I noticed,” he grinned, a little cocky. “But I’d like to do more than fuck you. So I’m askin’ you to dinner. Gonna try to make a proper lady outta you and all that.” 

You snorted. 

“No proper lady to be had here,” you said. “But… we can have dinner.” 

This was actual date number five. Not that the number of dates meant much when you were already screwing every chance you got. 

But you’d gotten to really like Justin, especially now that you were spending almost every spare second together. Maybe love him. A little. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it. 

“You know,” he came and pressed a new beer into your hand and took your empty bottle, putting it on a nearby table. “Bet you’d look pretty as hell in a little dress like that…” 

He ran his nose along your temple and you glared at him a little. 

“OK, first of all, it’s after Labor Day, wearin’ all white like that is tacky,” you said. “Second of all, you get frustrated when I take 10 minutes to tame my hair before we leave, you know how long it takes to look that put together? Longer than you want to wait, cowboy.” 

“OK well I’m dyin’ to know where you got that Labor Day thing from. But you’re prettier than her, so I’m sure it wouldn’t take you that long,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I’m not talkin’ about for every day. Maybe if we were to… I dunno… take a trip somewhere.” 

“A trip?” You smiled, brows raised. “You tryin’ to take me away from all this, that it?” 

“Maybe,” he winked. “Thinkin’ maybe a few days, we run away to a cabin on a lake, find some fun restaurants, I get to spend way more time kissin’ you than usual…” 

“Sounds good to me,” you were about to move to kiss him when there was a strange, snarling sound from over his shoulder. You frowned, leaning around him just as he turned to look. 

The girl from before - in the stupid white dress - flew at him, her blonde hair tangled, her fingers curved so her nails were more like claws. He stepped back, his hands going up to stop her but she didn’t seem to notice or care. 

She jumped, knocking him to the ground as you jumped out of the way, the girl ripping at his shirt before digging her bared teeth into his neck. 

“What the fuck!” You yelled, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her backward. She sprawled on the floor next to Justin for a second before she scrambled up onto all fours and tried to rush you. You took your half full beer bottle and throttled her on the side of her head, hitting her with every ounce to strength you had, sending her down to the ground, unconscious. 

“Shit!” A man near you looked between you and the girl. 

“Hey, she fuckin’ started it!” You snapped. “She just tried to take a chunk out of my boyfriend’s neck!” 

Someone else got down on the ground with the girl as Justin got to his feet. You looked at his throat, her teeth marks red and oozing. 

“Jesus, she got you good…” you frowned, leaning in close. 

“We should call the cops,” the man near you said. 

“And that’s our cue,” Justin took you by the elbow and started pulling you to the door. 

“Hey, we didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” you said as he dragged you along beside him. “She went fuckin’ nuts…” 

“Yeah but that’s your third beer of the night and you’re 19,” he said quickly. “Rather not get in trouble for buyin’ you booze…” 

“That’s the girl that hit ‘er!” Someone yelled. You looked up at Justin.

“Run!” Justin pulled you with him as the two of you took off, him clearing a path with you at his heels until you were in the parking lot, a handful of people on your tail. 

“Sure hope you ain’t drunk!” You said as you jumped into the passenger side of his rusted pickup. 

“Sober enough to get us outta this,” he said, turning the key and holding it until the old engine turned over with a growl. He floored it, nearly taking out the front of a sedan on his way onto the main road. 

He careened through town at 80 until the streetlights had faded in the distance and the sky was bursting with stars. 

“What the fuck was her problem?” You crawled to the middle of the bench seat and tried to get a look at his neck. “Maybe you should go to a hospital, this looks bad…” 

“I’ll just clean it up when we get back,” he waved you off. “I’m too eager to find out what kind of sex I get as your boyfriend…” 

“What?” You sat back, incredulous. 

“You called me your boyfriend back there,” he smirked. “I’m really ready to find out what that means once I’m in your bed…” 

“Oh, Jesus,” you shoved him playfully. “You got a one track mind. And you shouldn’t read too much into what I say when I’m defending myself because some psycho tried to take a chunk out of ya.” 

He winked and you rolled your eyes. 

The two of you made it back to your room without any more excitement - something you were plenty thankful for. Once you were inside, you took Justin’s plaid button down off and draped it over your worn wooden desk chair before getting out your first aid kit. You usually used it for patching up cuts when a horse did manage to throw you - a rare occurrence - or when you weren’t paying close enough attention and cut yourself on barbed wire - less rare. 

You frowned at the bite mark, the skin around it red and angry, as you cleaned it with rubbing alcohol and applied a bandage.

“This looks infected,” you said. “Really should take you to a hospital…” 

“Nah,” he waved you off. “I’ll go to a doctor in a day or two if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ right. I’m fine, Baby Doll, really.” 

He tugged you onto his lap and kissed your cheek. 

“You’re cute when you’re worryin’ though,” he smiled a little. “If I’d known all it took was some rancher’s daughter gettin’ handsy with me to get you to be all over me, callin’ me your boyfriend, I’d have done it sooner…” 

You rolled your eyes and shifted so you were less sitting on his lap and more straddling him and his hands went to your waist. 

“See if you were in a dress, this’d be easier…” 

You glared at him. 

“You’re not careful I’ll give you a matchin’ bite mark on the other side of your neck.” 

“Oh, from you, I’d welcome it,” he smiled, kissing you as he unbuttoned your shirt. 

You ground your hips down against his as he undressed you, his hands exploring you as he kissed you. Once you were bare from the waist up, he pulled you down on the bed and you crawled down his body, opening his pants and stroking his hardening length a few times before taking him in your mouth in one, swift motion. 

“Fuck, Baby Doll,” he groaned, one of his hands going to your hair. “Fuckin’ love your mouth…” 

You hummed in approval, making his legs twitch as you sucked him, bobbing your head up and down his length as his fingers dug into your scalp. You worked his cock until he pulled your head roughly away from him, panting for breath. 

“Really don’t want to come before I have a chance to properly fuck ya,” he said, grip loosening on your hair. 

“So demanding,” you teased, looping your fingers over the top of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down his legs and leaving them on the floor. You took off your own jeans and underwear, too, and crawled up his body, leaning over him to grab a condom from your bedside table. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked you as your breasts hung over his face, his fingers sinking into your hips. 

He reluctantly released you when you moved back down to straddle his thighs, opening the wrapper and sliding the condom on over his thick length. You looked at him naked in front of you and rubbed two fingers through your slit, spreading the wetness that had gathered there. 

“You gettin’ wet from suckin’ me off has to be the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” his hands slid up your legs as he watched you arrange yourself over him. 

“I’m so busy thinking about this the whole time I can’t help it,” you said, breathless, as you sank down onto him. He groaned as you did, your body slowly and surely taking all of his cock into you. Your hips met his and you ground yourself down against him, his hardness just big enough to stretch you enough to satisfy. You rode him like that, rubbing your clit as you did, his hands on your hips as you worked yourself to an orgasm on his length, coming around him with a whimper. 

He took advantage of your orgasm and grabbed you, flipping you onto your back and driving into you as you rode out the last waves of pleasure, arranging your legs so he was pressing deeper. You groaned as he started to fuck you harder, faster, the force of it making your tits bounce. 

“Love seein’ you come on my cock,” he grunted. “Love seein’ how this tight little pussy takes me…” 

He ground himself in as deep as he could reach, your body tightening around him again. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasped it out as he started to come deep inside you, spilling into the condom. 

Your eyes went wide and your orgasm hit - soft and subdued but not entirely put off by his words. He collapsed beside you when both of you were spent, your own slick leaking out between your legs. You stared up at the ceiling. 

“Knew boyfriend sex would be good,” he teased, a little breathless and smiling at you. 

“Yeah, about that,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What did you say at the end there?” 

He frowned. 

“I said…” and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit… I didn’t mean… I don’t expect… Look, I…” 

“Did you mean it?” You asked, brows raised. 

He flinched. 

“Maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t plannin’ on sayin’ a damn thing about it to you, alright? So please don’t freak out about this, OK? I feel like we’re in a good place…” 

“I…” you paused. “Well I dunno if I love you yet or not but… I do like you. A lot. You’re kind of my favorite person so… I might love you a little. But just a little.” 

You shrugged and fell back down onto your back. He smiled. 

“Well, you’re my favorite person, too.” 

“Don’t read too much into it,” you smiled a little. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Baby Doll.” 

He rolled over to kiss you before getting out of bed. You frowned. 

“Gonna go rinse off,” he said. “I’m feelin’… I dunno, just off.” 

“I’m telling you, that stupid bite is infected,” you called after him as he went to shower. You waited until you heard the water turn on and got out bed yourself, getting his shirt from the chair and shrugging into it. It hung on you and you had to roll up the sleeves. You smiled a little at the physical representation of him enveloping you, the shirt smelling like his cologne with the faint smell of hay below it - a smell he never seemed to really shake. You liked it. 

You got your guitar from its stand in the corner and settled back down on the bed, tuning it briefly before just noodling on it. You’d been experimenting with a combination of chords and the rhythm you could get from tapping on the guitar body itself. 

“That’s soundin’ good,” Justin said, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He got is boxers off the floor and stepped into them, draping the towel over the chair. 

“Thanks,” you said. “Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet but something eventually… Feeling any better?” 

“Bit worse actually,” he frowned. “Maybe I should go back to mine, what if I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Don’t need to be gettin’ you sick, too…” 

“You were just inside me, Justin, whatever you got I’m gonna get,” you rolled your eyes. “Assuming it’s contagious and it’s not from that damn bite.” 

“She wasn’t rabid,” he teased, climbing into bed beside you. “Sure I just picked up somethin’ somewhere…” 

You put the guitar down beside the bed and curled into him, falling asleep breathing in the smell of hay on his skin. 

His twitching is what woke you up. 

“Justin,” you whispered, nudging him. He didn’t respond. “You’re dreaming, c’mon baby…” 

You gave him a shake but he didn’t wake up. You sighed and untangled yourself from him and the sheets. You grabbed your panties off the floor and ducked into the bathroom. If you were awake, you might as well pee. You did that, chugged a glass of water and went back into the bedroom. 

It was uncommonly dark, the new moon making it so there was almost no light coming in through your windows. You nudged Justin again as you tried to get under the covers. 

“Hey,” you shook him a little more firmly this time. “Baby, you’re dreaming something crazy…” 

He responded then, taking in a deep, raspy breath, his movements still sharp and jerky. 

“Justin?” You said quietly. “Hey, it’s me, it’s…” 

He shrieked, sounding like the girl at the bar and you shocked back from him, jumping away just as his fingers reached and groped for you. 

“This isn’t funny!” You yelled, stumbling over your guitar as you backed away from him. You squinted, barely able to make out his writhing in the bedsheets in the dark. “Justin, cut it the fuck out!” 

He just shrieked again before he fell to the floor with a thud, his breaths still coming in deep, rasping pants. 

“Justin?” You crept toward his side of the bed cautiously. He snarled and scrambled, on all fours, for you. 

It shocked you so much that he got ahold of your ankle, yanking you onto the ground so hard that it made your brain rattle in your skull, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh as he dragged you closer. 

You fought without really thinking about how or why or who, you just kicked as hard as you could with your free leg, catching the side of his head with your knee. He shrieked and released you and you scrambled back from him, pulling yourself up by your bed to run around to your nightstand. You yanked the middle drawer open - just below where you’d grabbed a condom just hours before to put on the man who was now bent on killing you - and pulled out your hand gun. 

“Justin!” You were crying. You almost never cried. You weren’t sure when you’d started. “Please! I don’t want to do this, please!” 

He snarled and lunged for you again and you pulled the trigger. He collapsed immediately and you screamed, fumbling to turn on the lamp on your side table. 

“Justin?” You got down on the ground next to him. You’d shot him in the chest, right by his heart. The rattling sound of his breaths were gone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please…” 

You sobbed, instinctively trying to put his blood back inside of him. If you could just fix it, put it back together, he’d be OK, he’d wake up and be Justin again and everything would be fine. That had to be the way it worked, it was the only thing that made sense…

You barely noticed it, out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled the bandage off his neck at some point, the violent bite mark on display and a fibrous, vine-like tendril reaching out from his throat. Reaching for you. 

You yelped and scrambled back from him, your gun still in your hand. The thing was still moving, with a mind of its own. 

“What the fuck?” You were panting for breath. His body twitched and you did the only thing you could think to do. 

You ran. 

“Help me!” You ran out front of the bunk house, gun still in your bloody hands. “Please! Help me!” 

You heard it before you saw it, the rattling breath and the inhuman snarl. Like the girl at the bar. Like Justin. 

It was Keith, one of the older ranch hands. He worked with the cattle. You’d almost never seen him so much as jog and here he was, running for you, snarling, his hands in a claw-like shape. 

“Stop!” You held up the gun. “I ain’t jokin’, I will shoot you!” 

He kept coming, the snarling getting louder. You fired, shooting him in the head by the glow of the light on the barn. He collapsed where he stood as you heard something crash against the door of one of the other rooms at the bunkhouse. Like someone was hurling their body against it, trying to break free. 

You looked around, frantic. There was only one thing you were sure of: you’d get torn apart if you stayed here. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know what caused it, but you knew you were going to die if you didn’t get away. 

You ran to the paddock where you’d been working with a horse, a filly who was just past her yearling stage. You’d been breaking her in, now that she was old enough, barely to dumb broke, just starting to carry a rider and learn commands. She was there, asleep in the grass. You jumped the fence, not wanting to risk going in the barn where there were sometimes still people, even at this hour. 

“Hey Nike,” you whispered. She roused with a whinny. You’d named her for the goddess of victory and you hoped that meant she’d help you win whatever the fuck battle was apparently happening here today. “We gotta get goin’ sweet girl…” 

You coaxed her to her feet and she shook her head, her mane bouncing. You jumped on her back and realized that you hadn’t even put on shoes or pants, you’d been in too big a hurry to get the fuck out of your room. But it wasn’t safe to go back, not now. You’d have to make do. You tucked your gun into the waistband of your panties. Nike pranced, impatient below you. 

“We’re gonna get the fuck out of here,” you said. “You and me.” 

You leaned forward and took some of her mane in each hand, one on each side of her neck. You couldn’t afford to go and get reins, you hoped this would be enough. 

“Lets see if we can make you a jumper…” 

You nudged her forward and got her moving. There was more snarling from the bunkhouse, louder now. Something must have gotten through a door… you shuddered, thinking about it. 

Once she was up to a good clip, you pointed her at the fence line and drove her to it, adjusting your weight and pulling back on her, hoping that she’d figure it out. 

She did, you barely hanging on as she sailed over the fence posts. 

“Good girl!” You said, driving her toward the woods at the edge of the property. “It’s you and me, Nike. You and me. We’re going to get through this, we’re going to get help, we’re going to get through this.” 

You said it more for you than your horse as you rode into the dark of the forest, the ranch and the bodies of the first men you ever killed behind you. 

*** 

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“Been quiet today,” Tommy said from beside Joel, the gentle crunch of the snow under the feet of their horses the only other sound on the cold air. 

Joel groaned. 

“Jesus, Tommy, why don’t you just ask for us to get swarmed by infected,” he glared at his little brother. 

“Don’t tell me you’re superstitious now, brother,” Tommy smirked a little. “You and I both know that whatever I say don’t got shit to do with anything that happens later.” 

“It will if I deck you for sayin’ stupid shit,” Joel replied. “And I ain’t superstitious, I’m just smart enough to not say somethin’ that goddamn dumb in the middle of a patrol.” 

The men were, at this point, about a four hour’s ride from Jackson, Wyoming. But they’d been taking it at a slow pace because - as Tommy had rightly and stupidly pointed out - it had been a quiet day. A quiet day in a quiet month. 

Raiders seemed to have gone dark - either hunkering down for the coming winter or migrating elsewhere. So had infected, though they knew they could put that on their migratory patterns. Stupid fungus was smart enough to know that the humans it occupied couldn’t hold up in extreme cold and that their host bodies would freeze and die if they stayed too far north during the winter. Things thinned out this time of year. 

“We should turn around and head back soon,” Tommy said. “We cut over a few miles, we’ll be able to sweep up and check a different area…” 

“You know this shit better’n me,” Joel shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised if we come up on a pocket of raiders now…” 

Tommy rolled his eyes as they rode up on a stream. He nudged his horse to follow it, cutting back toward Jackson. 

They’d only been following the path of the stream for about 20 minutes when Joel first noticed it. The sign of footprints, then blood. 

“Tommy,” he said quietly, nodding his head at it. 

“Shit,” Tommy sighed, shaking his head. 

“You said it was quiet,” Joel said, trying not to smirk at him. 

“Fuck you,” Tommy replied, steering his horse to follow the footprints. 

They didn’t have to go far, the snow growing steadily redder the further they went, until there was a body face down on the ground. 

Joel slid off his horse and crouched next to the man, checking for signs of life even though it was pretty obvious that there weren’t any. He rolled the man over. There was a sizable knife buried in the man’s chest but that’s not the thing that caught Joel’s attention. 

“Jesus Christ,” he looked up at his brother, still on horseback. “Tommy, look at this.” 

Tommy frowned, dismounting and squatting down next to Joel. 

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Was that… infected?” 

The man’s face had been nearly torn apart, nail marks like some kind of feral animal had gotten to him but they were distinctly human, little half-moon shapes dragged through his flesh that had gushed blood. He’d been alive when something - someone - got to his face.

“Ain’t ever seen one go at someone quite like this,” Joel said. “And infected don’t use knives…” 

“Maybe suicide if he got bit?” Tommy shrugged. 

Joel looked over the body and found a gun with plenty of ammo and nodded to it. 

“Well then, never mind,” Tommy frowned. “Jesus, he pissed off someone…” 

“The fuck knows who,” Joel said, looking him over more to see if he could find any signs as to where the man had come from. There were a few thick zipties in the man’s back pocket. Joel sighed and held them up for Tommy to see. “Well, probably plenty. I’m bettin’ he’s a raider, probably tryin’ to bring in someone who fought back a little harder than expected…” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy sighed, getting up again. “Grab the guns I guess, knife too. See if we can’t find who fucked him up.” 

The men mounted up again and rode on. They found another body, this one shot dead and not scratched to hell, though one look at the nails - free of blood and torn flesh - told Joel this was another raider and not who they were after. 

“Joel,” Tommy nodded at another set of tracks, starting with little drops of blood in the snow and coloring it more crimson as the path wore on. 

“Shit,” he sighed, steering his horse to follow the path. 

They didn’t need to go far. 

Ahead was a body in the snow, splayed out on the ground, splotches of red and pink around it. Joel dismounted and approached slowly. He could sense that this was different. This was who the raiders had been after. 

He moved cautiously, almost afraid to see what the raiders must have done to you if you’d done that kind of damage to them. You were bloody but he wasn’t sure the source of it from a quick glance. Your face was bruised and he could see signs of you being bound on your exposed wrist, the skin ringed in harsh and angry red. 

“Jesus,” Tommy breathed, coming up along side Joel. 

He noticed it then, the small, almost imperceptible movement of your chest. Joel tapped Tommy’s arm and nodded toward your torso. 

“Oh shit,” he said. 

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a sharp breath, struggling onto your elbows and hands, trying to drag your broken body back away from Joel and Tommy. 

“Woah!” Tommy held up his hands. “Not here to hurt you, you’re OK, we’re just gonna try to help…” 

“Fuck you,” you spat - literally, blood and spittle flying from your lips as you tried to get a full breath. “Don’t touch me!” 

“Hey,” Joel got down on your level, his hands up, and met your eyes. There was something in them that felt familiar. Something that he wanted to protect. “It’s OK. We’re not like them, those men back there. Guessin’ you killed ‘em?” 

You nodded once. Your eyes were so wide, you were so afraid. It reminded Joel of a baby deer, fragile and wild. 

“You did good, Bambi,” he said, keeping his hands where you could see them. “Fucked ‘em up real good. We’re from a settlement, few hours from here. It’s a good place, we’ve got a doctor who can help you…” 

“Can’t walk a few hours,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“I know,” Joel said, nodding to your torso. “Mind if I take a look? See where that blood’s comin’ from? I’m just gonna lift your shirt, not gonna touch you.” 

You looked at him for a moment before you gave him a stiff nod. He gingerly raised the bloody fabric - you weren’t wearing nearly enough layers to be out in this weather, just jeans, boots and a button down - and examined your stomach. There were two bullet holes there. He winced. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew getting shot in the stomach was bad. He noticed a raised scar on your hip, just below and to the left of your belly button, a branded letter M. His stomach turned. The fuck had happened to you? 

“It’s bad,” you managed. “Just shoot me, better… better than dyin’ with them.” 

“She’s right, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice low. “She’s lost a lot of blood, dragging her back to town’s just torture at this point…” 

You’d fallen back into the snow, struggling to breathe, your eyes closed. But he remembered your eyes, the warmth wrapped in something harsh and sharp. 

He realized then what they reminded him of, who you reminded him of. Tess. You were a survivor, like Tess. He hadn’t been able to save her, either. He’d failed her, too. 

“Bambi,” Joel said, just sticking with the name. He figured you’d offer your real one if you wanted to. You opened your eyes again. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you for this but I’m gonna be as gentle as I can…” 

“Fuck you,” you winced. “Just…” 

“Not going to just let you die out here in the cold,” Joel shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Tommy. “Gonna get you on my horse - it’s OK if you pass out, I’ll hold onto ya - and we’re gonna get you back with us.” 

“I don’t…” you began but Joel slid his arm below your legs and the other behind your ribs and he gently, slowly, lifted you into his body. You cried out in pain but he held onto you, putting you on the horse as best he could. 

“Sorry, Bambi.” You instinctively wrapped your fingers around the saddle horn as your body slumped forward and you whimpered. He mounted up behind you and held his hand out to Tommy, who handed him his coat. He draped it over your shivering frame and tugged you against him. Your head lolled back against his chest and you groaned. Your eyes were closed. He wondered if you were conscious. 

“This is damn stupid, Joel,” Tommy said, mounting his horse again. 

“Couldn’t just leave her out here,” Joel said. “You know we couldn’t.” 

Tommy sighed. 

“Let’s get back,” he said. “Maybe, by some miracle, this won’t all have been for nothin’.” 

“And you said it was a quiet day,” Joel said, starting off at a faster clip this time. 

Tommy sighed.

“Fuck you.” 

A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to Yearling! I hope you've enjoyed it so far and that you'll come to love Bambi and Joel as much as I have as I've been thinking about and planning this story for the last month or so.

You can expect updates a few times a week here as I have brain rot and really only want to write this stuff :)

I'll start a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added!

Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you stick around and go on this journey with me. Love you!

Next Chapter

[theleft0ver]

Got a bit wine drunk, started a new clegan fic, will I be finishing it? No one knows. Bon apetit 😘

(Again sorry for the typos and grammatical errors English is not my first language)

John was about to die of boredom being stuck in his car for countless of hours surviving only on coffee and pie from the shabby road side diners he passed by. But the thought of what (or more like who) waited for him at the end of his journey made it all worth while in the end.

After what felt like an eternity and countless questions of strangers to point him in the right direction he finally caught the sight he was looking for at the end of the long winding dirt road.

A white paneled farmhouse stood stretching high on the ground like some kind of holy church surrounded by mountains and carefully placed wooden fences greeted him like some sort of salvation. Offering him a bit of peace and comfort.

Clambering out of his beat up pickup truck he stretched out his sore and stiff joints squinting in the glaring sun, wishing he had a hat to block out the harsh light.

He carefully pulled out his pack of smokes and lit up, savoring the first bitter drag with a quiet hum. He felt up the pocket of his slacks for the letter that was sent to him a week ago inviting him to the cozy ranch. Tracing the worn edges of the envelope he let his heart jump in the thought of the sender.

In hopes of a comfier seat and maybe some fresh warm coffee he made the short distance from his car to the worn down steps of the grand house. At the front door he took inventory of the porch, already imagining himself having a drink and a well deserved smoke sitting in one of the white woven chairs. There was a horseshoe hung on the doorframe for good luck and he had to admit that it’s kind of funny considering the fact that the owner of the house doesn’t believe in superstitions.

John raised his hand to knock but suddenly he felt a bit self conscious about the state he must be in after the long hours spent in his car. Trying to get himself under wraps he combed his fingers through his curls, longer than regulations now that the war has ended and he’s out of the army, and tucked his shirt in more firmly into the waist of his pants. Dusting himself off and rubbing his face with his hands to try and look more presentable. He had to laugh at the notion, it’s unlikely that his host would have any issues with his appearance anyways.

Finally in giddy happiness he rapped his knuckles on the painted doorframe and waited for the sweet sight of the man he so desperately wanted to see.

But there was no answer, so he knocked again and again to no avail. Maybe he was in the deeper parts of the large looking house and couldn’t hear his desperate ministration. So he opted for pounding his fist on the door, three heavy swings enough to wake the dead, and nothing. John was kind of worried that maybe the man of the hour is not home as they never set a date for the visit.

As he was about to sit on the steps to light another cigarette he heard a shout and some commotion from the far left of him and went to investigate. He rounded the house and walked along the fence a few paces, that’s when he got a sight of him. After what felt like an eternity, which was in real time only under a short year, he finally had his sight set on him.

Buck was glowing in the mid afternoon sun. He was on the back of a white stallion in full on cowboy getup. His golden spun hair was showed under a tan cowboy hat. His button up was loose from his tight denim jeans that hugged his long strong legs and he wore some dark brown leather boots that were secured in silver stirrups.

John’s breath caught in his throat and he allowed his poor heart to miss a few beats. Gale did cut a magnificent image in his natural element. As he was sure that the sun comes up every morning he was also sure that he will never see Gale ride a horse, but he was pleasantly proven wrong.

Gale looked like a real cowboy, he is a real cowboy John accepts the fact as he also accepts that he is unable to look away. Because Gale is breathtaking, he is breathtaking and John’s heart squeezes painfully. Gale stays glued to the saddle like he’s paid by the hour to do so and shouts commands to the seemingly wild horse, trying to break it in.

John whistles loudly to get his attention and Gale’s head snaps in his direction and lets out a whistle of his own to the horse and starts galloping toward John. The horse following his order makes a break in the direction Gale points him and delivers his rider in no time.

The horse kicks up quite a dust cloud as Gale skids him to a stop in front of the fence. John unable to help himself jumps back a bit. As the dust settles the first thing he sees is Buck’s toothy grin.

“Well I’ll be damned, howdy city boy” Gale greats him laying his accent on thick, leaning on the saddle with his arms crossed. John hopes he can blame the blush that spreads high on his cheeks on the warm Wyoming air.

“Hello partner” he greets Gale trying to copy the accent but failing miserably and sounding way too goofy as soon as he can get the words out “Do I have to worry about you spitting chewing tobacco at my feet or you didn’t quite commit to the whole cowboy shebang?”

[6okuto]

Got any headcanons for Mattsun?

Omfg haven't thought about this guy in so long. let me cook

sneaks up from behind when you're on your phone, peeks over your shoulder and comments on whatever you're doing/watching. "they're really fucking up that dresser" "is this the episode where he dies" (it isn't. in fact he never dies, issei just wanted to fuck w u)

...snores... LOL

you say you don't know how to do something and he teases you and confidently, casually says Lemme see it. then He ends up scratching his head like What the hell? Like yeah that's what I said /lh

if possible, he likes putting his hand in your back pocket while waiting somewhere 👍

stiff dancer.. your romantic slow dance in the kitchen is hugging and swaying from side to side. but he can spin you and you can spin him so you know. still fun and good!!

tries not to laugh when he sees kids get scared by moving halloween decorations then gets scared himself

tries to rap songs when he's drunk . um. doesn't work out too well most of the time but you know

is shocked by how big horses are the first time he gets close to one

isn't the most confident gift giver.. the first time he's getting you a gift he keeps texting the seijoh 4 gc and questioning everything while they tease him 😭 bro is near sweating when he hands it to you. he gets better though!!

those videos where the person secretly records babying their boyfriend and when he realizes he sits up and tries to Be Cool. yeah. mattsun

[thegood-thebad-andtheundead]

It was nearing dusk when the monster hunter rode into town. He cut an imposing figure in his dark leather duster and hat pulled low, crossbow hanging from the saddle, and he turned more than one head. He rode to the sheriff's office to turn in a pair of fangs from a rogue vampire that had unwisely attacked him before continuing to the stables.

He rented a stall for his horse and took care of the creature, pausing to rub its snout and talk to it before heading to the saloon with his gear in tow. When he stepped in through the swinging doors, people paused to look at the newcomer. Curious stares followed him to the bar but he ignored all of them. He rapped on the wooden top to catch the bartender's attention- he paid for a room upstairs and went to drop off his belongings. He washed up quickly, washed the dust and sweat and gore of his latest adventure off his handsome face and body and changed into his only other set of clean clothes before returning downstairs.

Blond hair damp, he tucked it behind his pointed ears; a few patrons eyed him, sneers of disgust on their faces. He could practically hear them whispering halfbreed to each other. He ignored them and strode to the bar. The man ordered himself dinner and he sat in a corner, facing the entrance as he ate. He stayed there for a while before getting up and returning to the bar itself.

He got drunk, quickly.

Second part

Line art by @lcmccomics

Colors by @wildingfoxart

[titobitex]

Ok homie what are your gta hc's?

thank you for the ask!! I've honestly got a shitton of gta hcs (including gtav) so it might be a bit all over the place but bare with me. Ship hcs are included here too :]]

Brucie

- has no idea how to cook, and whenever he attempts to he'll call either Niko or Roman for help despite them having no idea what the fuck he's talking about

- never touches drugs, though bullshark testortone / steroids is an exception, but will smoke a cigarette / blunt from time to time

- loves collecting different types of jackets (sports jackets, leather, punk, biker, etc)

- bids on celebrity worn / movie prop shit off of ebay. not because he wants it, but so he could fuck with people

- former highschool boxer, tried to pursue it when he got older but got his ass kicked in a match and backed out for awhile

- despite being a health-nut, he loves anything sugary and genuinely has to restrain himself

- really likes soft rock / rap music

- prefers hot, scorching weather days. not because he likes the weather, but because he gets an excuse to be shirtless in public and show off his tattoos

Niko

- loves watching horseracing, he'll rarely bid on the horses but still enjoys watching

- (related to the previous hc) collects horse / horse carousel figurines or anything related

- really likes cats and fish :3 whenever Nikos feeling alone or sad of some sort, he goes to the aquarium after-hours to collect his thoughts and relax

- feeds the street cats whenever he can

- horrible sleep schedule, but still gets up early everyday

- likes the 2000s skelanimals brand and has even boughten some of their plushes (he likes Rae the wolf specifically)

- favorite holiday is halloween!! he'll go trick or treating for a bit before giving whatever candy they dont want to his friends

- gets nightmares almost on a daily basis

- loves playing cards, specifically egyption war

- unironically got nightmares from watching Killer Klowns from Outerspace despite denying he was scared and stayed away from the carnival for a month

Johnny

- actually a really good sewer! whenever he finds cool band patches he'll buy (or steal) 'em and sew it onto his biker jacket right then and there

- has a pet coyote (it comes by every now and then and let's Johnny pet'em)

- loves cats and visits cat cafes often :3

- likes playing old Cube / Wii / Playstation games, even goes to the arcade occasionally and brings all the brothers with him

- robs the liquor store alot, not for alcohol but for slushies for him and the gang (even the dancers at the club house too)

- pretty good at cooking, except for baking

- puts ketchup on almost everything. this mf will seriously put ketchup on steak if he had the opportunity to

- thinks hotdogs are fucking repulsive but will have a corndog anyday

- learning how to play bass

- started his punk/rocker phase in highschool and never got over it since

Ship Headcanons

Niko/Brucie

- tried cooking together, it ended in disaster and ended up calling the fire department

- go to the beach/carnival almost every weekend to unwind

- they like recreating shitty Facebook Couples photos and tagging the people from the originals they parodied (usually they get blocked and reported)

- tried going on a skating date and Niko did horribly

- Brucies love language is verbal/affectionate, while Niko shows his love through small acts / gestures (running errands, etc)

- Niko gives/offers their jacket/sweaters to Brucie whenever it's cold, despite Brucie being slightly bigger then him

- Brucie compliments Niko all the time, even if it's not relevant to the conversation

- Niko runs errands / handles Brucies business whenever Brucies really stressed / busy

- the first time Niko actually stayed the night at Brucies penthouse he got really nervous sleeping in the same bed so once Brucie fell asleep he left and spent the rest of the night on the couch

- they both have (small) hidden matching tattoos that they got when they were drunk

this took me forever to write so I might make a part two :]

[hydrate-or-diedrate]

Day 15 (wow!) of reading homestuck

Poor Mituna :(

Oh wow poor Meulin jeez

I DONT WANNA BE JAAAAAACK

"A couple routine murders" A couple? A couple, you say?

Nothing 👏 stops 👏 the 👏 mail 👏

YEAH JOHN

Hello PM, ma'am

"weird moody horse shit"

Hi Tavros!

Aww damn, Tavros and Vriska ended up getting together? For real? I could see kismeswhatever but matesprites? How fuckin long did that take

Oh my God he wants to propose that's actually so cute, just wait until he realizes he doesn't get the tax benefits

Presidential alert: The boys are fighting! Release the clowns!

I can't believe Mr Big Bad Lord English is the same guy who put hats on his chess pieces to pull a super epic switcheroo maneuver

Oh boy game time again

Who the hell is this lady :0

Rufioh!!

Oh not a lady, still pretty tho

KANKRI SHOO

Oh Horuss, that chat prefix is certainly... a choice...

T*tillating

Oh Damara seems intimidating

Woah why's she speaking Japanese

Okay people have asked me before if I have any ships, I think I could get behind rose and kanaya in the heart quadrant thingy if their relationship is explored more :)

Somebody give Dave some apple juice already he's been going through withdrawal for 2 years

Gosh not more Dave raps I can't handle it they're just too lame

Ah, by beverages Rose meant alcohol

DATE DATE DATE DATE

GANZEE FUCK O F F IT IS DATE NIGHT

Oh boy <3< terezi and gamzee is certainly not one I was expecting

I used to wonder why homestuck fans were so rabid/eager about shipping but it plays just, such a big part of the story that it's surprising

Kanaya stop giving drunk Rose credit for this flirting just because you're head over heels

DRUNK HAPPEN xROSE COMBOBOB

Why is the next animation taking so long to load this is ominous

FUKC YOY

Oh my gosh there's so many people

OH GOSH THERES MORE

Oh my fucking God

How

Bruh

CALLIE OHPEEE

[djmossback]

Spacebar 17 June 2023

2100 hrs

Dazz Band, Let It Whip (7" Motown)

Patrice Rushen, Forget Me Nots (7" Elektra)

Naked Eyes, Promises Promises (7" Manhattan)

David Bowie, Let’s Dance (12” long mix)

Sylvester, Do You Wanna Funk (12" 45 rpm long cut)

Ace, How Long (7")

Queen, Crazy Little Thing Called Love (7" Elektra)

Wham, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go (7" UK cut)

Go-Go’s, We Got The Beat (7" Stiff Records)

Wang Chung, Dance Hall Days (LP cut)

Link Wray, Rumble (LP cut, Rhino Instrumental Rock v/a)

Bush Tetras, Too Many Creeps (7" 99 records)

Dry Cleaning, Scratchcard Lanyard (7" 4AD)

Wire, Ahead (12" Enigma)

Heatwave, The Groove Line (7" Epic Records)

2200 hrs

Pet Shop Boys, West End Girls (12" extended mix, Manhattan Records)

Cheryl Lynn, Got To Be Real (7" Columbia)

Tears For Fears, Change (7" Polygram import)

DEVO, Whip It (7" Warners)

Amii Stewart, Knock On Wood (12" Ariola)

ZZ Top, Sleeping Bag (12" 45rpm extended mix)

Vince Staples, Big Fish (LP cut)

Abyssinians, Declaration Of Rights (LP cut)

Nazareth, Hair Of The Dog (LP cut)

Cramps, What’s Inside A Girl (12" 45rpm cut)

Nelly, Hott In Herre (12" cut)

Janet Jackson, What Have You Done For Me Lately (12" extended mix)

Kylie Minogue, Can’t Get Blue Monday Out Of My Head (12" promo)

Apollonia 6, Sex Shooter (12" 45 RPM cut Paisley Park/wea)

2300 hrs

Positive K, I Gotta Man (12" cut)

Taste Of Honey, Rescue Me (LP cut)

G.Q., Boogie Oogie Oogie (7" Arista)

Thundercat, Them Changes (LP cut, 45RPM 10")

Kendrick Lamar, YAH (LP cut, faded early, due to.....)

Treasure Valley Roller Derby interruption.

Herbie Hancock, Chameleon (LP cut)

Toto, Hold The Line (LP cut)

Thin Lizzy, Boys Are Back In Town (LP cut)

Michael Jackson, Workin’ Day and Night (7" Epic Records)

Confidence Man, First Class Bitch (12" mix)

TLC, No Scrubs (12" mix w/rap)

Mary Jane Girls, In My House (7" Motown)

Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Want To Have Fun (7" mix)

Carla & Otis, Tramp (7" Stax)

S.O.S Band, Take Your Time (Do It Right) (7" mix)

Kim Wilde, Kids In America (7" )

Midnight

Soho, Hippychick (12" extended mix, WEA/Sire)

Sleaford Mods, Nudge It (LP Cut)

Laid Back, White Horse (12" 45RPM extended cut)

Killing Joke, Follow The Leader (LP Cut)

Gap Band, You Dropped a Bomb On Me (LP Cut)

Wreckz-n-Effect, Rump Shaker (12" extended cut)

Cypress Hill, How I Could Just Kill A Man (12" mix, some German ep)

Nena, 99 Luftballoons (7" GMBH SCHALLPLATTEN)

Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark, Souvenir (7" Dindisc ep)

ESG, You’re No Good (7" Factory/99 Records FAC 34)

PJ Harvey, Down By The River (7" Island UK, 33rpm)

Junior Murvin, Police & Thief (7" Upsetter Records)

The Orb, Little Fluffy Clouds (12" extended mix)

Wire, Go Ahead (7" Harvest Records, B-side of Map Ref)

Sun Atoms, Half Robot, Half Butterfly

Finished about 0125

TASTING NOTES

I was ridiculously uninspired going in. Did my best. Had the added wrinkle of the roller derby afterparty, so I played to them a bit.

My dreams of reordering my crates were wrecked by my surprise, early this week, that it was indeed Third Space Saturday week.

I had a chill set for 1-2am foundered by a drunk* that broke my concentration. Plus, I ran out of records. I don't have a problem with people coming up and saying something, like the person who came up during the ZZ Top record, and asked what mix it was! And having the Treasure Valley Roller Derby after season party in the Space was a blast! It would have been nice to know that beforehand, so I could have loaded up on some sassy and aggresive women for the mix! I apologize. They were a great crowd. They did their thing, had a good time, and I enjoyed playing to them.

Elusive Panda Buck Dave from the Dedicated Servers dropped by and said hello, so did the Real Rah-Keem.

Jules came up and requested "weird shit," like that Clipping jam that I throw in the regular set. So, I’m envisioning the 1-2 am bonus as a set for those of us who work there.

We turned the volume down, and I threw on some down tempo tracks. It's something I want to explore further.

*That drunk doesn’t know how close he came to getting destroyed by my brother in law Jeff. Seriously. He just kept pushing the nonsense, and it totally broke me. Asking me questions about the Mariners gear, and distracting me with questions about Seattle sports, and saying off the wall things like "93rd and Aurora." without elaborating on it. Jeff stepped in to wing man for me, and endured the nonsense. Like I have done many times for DJ IGA back when he occupied the booth. Jeff knows how to hang without demanding to be entertained by a person AT THEIR JOB WHO IS TRYING TO CONCENTRATE!! Well, whatever. I'm going to have to work hard to overcome things like that. Part of the gig.

Next Third Space is 15 July, 2023. I swear I will have some different jams next time.

[yawujin]

Hihiiii I saw your bio and I really wanted to ask for your Prussia headcanons! Anything you want to share nsfw or sfw whatever you feel like writing < 3 Ty

ofc! i have quite a few because i really do love prussia. he's been a favorite of mine ever since i heard him say "SUCK IT LOSERS" on my first time watching hetalia back in 2016 lmfao

{ request } random prussia headcanons ₊˚⊹౨ৎ

type • headcanon format , short read , my characterization

it might be a little unexpected from him (although it adds to his charm) but, i feel like he would love listening to aggressive rap music. mostly by male rappers

wears vintage rings, he just likes the extra color they add to his mostly monochromatic outfits

he cannot go anywhere without his sunglasses. i would say sunscreen as well, however, he only feels like he needs it during the summer. he wears UV protective clothing in the winter and it works just as well (he gets most of this from japan)

he thinks it's okay to swear (in german) around a baby as long as he's in a non german speaking country because: "the baby doesn't speak german"

lowkey offended when someone compliments france on having the best bread in europe when obviously german bread is so much better

he teases his younger brother about how it seems he only knows how to have fun when he's drunk

wishes it was socially acceptable in modern society to dress in 1700's-1800's military uniforms so he could "look awesome again"

always tries to gather up courage to subtly compliment lithuania and efforts to get close to him again but he just can't do it

rereads his journals and smiles at the thought of his younger self, of how much he's grown and learned. (also he kind of cringes at his younger self)(we all do)

calls the knight chess piece 'the horse' just to annoy austria whenever they play together

don't give him jägermeister unless you want to see him become the most devilish, feral, lustful mf EVER. (bye wtf)

[ruinedsoulsrp]

🎶, 💯🍝 for Nick, Brock, and Annie

DETAILS ABOUT OCS! Meme:

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

Nick: Spotify Playlist - Nick enjoys Pop Punk, Rock, and Rap music. Anything he can work out to and sing along with. He does enjoy listening to music and listens to it often; when he's working out, before a fight, and if he's at home alone.

Brock: Spotify Playlist - Brock likes older (90's/2000's) rap and classic rock music. He typically only really listens to music in the car.

Annie: Spotify Playlist - Annie likes upbeat country music and pop music. She listens to music anytime she's studying or working on homework and if she's going somewhere (driving, public transport, biking, etc.)

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Nick:

Doesn't have a lot of hobbies, and while he has to work out for his occupation he also considers it something he does for fun.

Hates math, puzzles, or anything that he's not good at because it makes him feel stupid and he hates that feeling.

Nick doesn't mind getting hit in fights because it makes him feel something and a lot of the time he's just numb.

Brock:

Brock absolutely hates holidays because his mom was always somehow more drunk than usual during those times.

He actually likes working on old cars and tinkering with mechanics, he just doesn't have the opportunity to do so very often

Brock dropped out of high school his Junior year so he could focus on dealing and making money for him and Brooke when they moved out of their mom's place.

Annie:

Annie misses her older brother Aiden even though they were never particularly close - she just wishes they could have had the "typical" big brother/little sister relationship.

She's actually very skilled at horseback riding and used to compete and show horses in high school.

Annie is an excellent cook.

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc’s favorite food(s)?

Nick loves fish and chips and misses it done "properly". He's also a sucker for sweets; cookies, candy, chocolate. Which is why he hardly ever eats it; cause he knows once he starts he'll finish a whole package.

Brock's favorite food is Salt & Vinegar chips. He could eat a whole bag at a time, and a second one if he let himself.

Annie ironically really does love Georgia Peaches and she misses them immensely. Besides that, she loves anything her mother makes, and anytime she wants to cook something she always uses her mother's recipes.

[gust-jar-simulator]

Time to put these nerds in another situation.

The Mari Lwyd shows up at the inn demanding cheese and wine. What do they do?

Bloodfeather- He's never seen this before and he needs to observe to figure out what the heck is going on. He doesn't exactly have the linguistic skills to rap battle, but he's very cozy with a mug of warm cider and, if drunk enough, might chirp along to the songs.

Lost- Unsure about people and hiding in the rafters until he gets the lay of the land. Then he realizes it's some sort of pranking tradition and gets to work.

Found- Lurking somewhere near Lost, and enthusiastically participating in the mischief. He can rap battle and proceeds to cause problems on purpose by advocating for the Mari to come in. Mostly to give Lost more time to prank.

Hibiscus- She's perfectly happy drinking herself to a miserable death in the corner, she did Not Plan for magical winter skeleton horses. But it's... nice. Warm. Tempting. Halfway through the night she splits into the doppels and they enthusiastically attempt to rhyme too, with spotty but hilarious results.

Sage- Shockingly, this man can sing, almost dangerously well. People act a little funny and blink too slowly after he's done, but hey. They're probably drunk. He's halfway to convincing the horse to give him cheese before one of the others drags him away.

Wolf- Let it be known that Wolf is not immune to a good time. He's sitting on a table missing his shirt and singing along as best he can. He doesn't handle attention well, but he's doing alright. He keeps coming up with increasingly wild stories about the scars on his chest.

Warriors- I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be allowed to go.

Wake- Helping Wolf come up with increasingly wild scar stories. He's also got a really good drinking song voice, and he's not bad at rap battles. He's in his element.

Damaz- Goddess above, get it out of there, being social is not its strong suit. It likes being a wallflower. Fun fact, however: Damaz may hate formal dances, but it can absolutely do drunk-people-at-a-festival dancing. A lot of it is improvised fighting moves, but it manages to work. It gets the others drink refills in an attempt to be useful, and after all of the excitement might experiment late at night, trying to sing a little of what it heard.

[silvcrignis]

To Frollo: ⊗

Meme: Send me ⊗ for my muse’s reaction to yours locking them outside {x}

HONESTLY he could hardly BLAME her for ushering him out the door, nor could he fault her for the CLICK of the lock his pointed ears picked up afterwards... He had probably looked uncomfortable in there. Which made SENSE. He WAS uncomfortable in the Charming household, almost UNBEARABLY so... He had not said a SINGLE word to Edward the entire time he was there & had maybe said a total of five sentences to Cinderella herself during the TWO hours he had been there.

The only reason he had even BEEN there was because a very drunk Kovu (Scar would have been so PROUD of his son's inebriation had he actually been there to SEE it that night) had dragged him along, insisting he "Meet my friendssssss!". Problem was Kovu's friends were an UNBEARABLY attractive married couple who Claude honestly did NOT know that well.

Which led to his CURRENT situation. He rolled his eyes slightly at how RIDICULOUS this entire situation was as his large black destrier, Aldon cantered up to him, excitedly accepting the long fingers of Claude's right hand carding through his mane before the horse rested his head on his rider's shoulder with a LARGE puff of warm air before Claude realised he was actually HOLDING something in his left hand, which he usually preferred. Pale turquoise moved to glance at what he had in his hand & he gave a long, DEEP sigh, murmuring "Jesus Plesus on a stick..." under his breath.

He reluctantly turned back around, large hand raising & lightly rapping at the door, his stomach TWISTING slightly.

"... I still have your wine glass. I am not in the habit of swindling STRANGERS out of their CHINA, surprisingly enough," he announced, knowing his voice would indeed carry despite the door not being open.

[weepinglions]

Dominic can’t stop the lopsided half-smile, half-smirk that tugs on the corners of his lips as the man he now knows is Hugo, is every bit as tipsy as he is buzzed. Dom rubs just under his nose as he considers the man, the chill in the air causing his nose to run, but he’s hoping he’ll be drunk enough to not feel it soon. His lips wrap around the cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a low chuckle slips past Dom’s mouth. “Montana? Now, that’s a drive---Mierda.” Dom’s brow arched again, the good one. He flicked some cigarette ash off to the side, since the ashtray’s frozen over, and looked back up to Hugo. 

“Dígame, what does a city like Chicago have that’s pulled you off your horses?” Dominic asked, and his eyes drop to the now empty glass of whiskey that sits in front of Hugo. He’s polished it off quite well, and a few honey brown droplets wet his bowlike lips, a sweet shine glistening on their plumpness. Dom let’s his eyes linger for a few seconds, before he gets paranoid that Hugo will catch the glint in them, and rips them away to the couple laughing on the strip below. 

“Ah, well, you’re not too far off. ‘M from Santiago, briefly. Lived here long enough to call myself a local, ‘suppose.” Dom answered, nonchalant as always when dealing with strangers. “I frequent this little gem enough to also be considered a regular, but not popular.” He counters, knuckles rapping against the wood of the picnic table. Hugo’s grinning like he’s maybe almost had one too many, but what’s one more? 

“D’ya want another? Mr. Popular’s treat. It’s not every evening you meet a rancher on the Southside.” Dominic hummed lowly, nodding down at Hugo’s empty glass, before raising two fingers to Kat as she walks by, politely thanking her with a soft nod. She gives him a look as she sees Hugo across from him, but shrugs it off as she heads back to the bar. Hugo’s face looks like it’s the warmest one on the little patio, and Dom wants to see if it’s the drink or himself making him blush like he is. 

Far Away ~ Hugo&Dominic

weepinglions

Dom’s hand reached out and palmed the lighter, mumbled a quiet thanks to the stranger. He thinks he might hear a soft chuckle leave the man, but he’s also too buzzed to be sure, so he doesn’t think much of it, ears as deceptive as he has to be. He is sure, however, that the man’s Spanish rolls off his tongue as smooth as the whiskey he’s been downing. Dominic’s dark brow perked, and even darker eyes narrowed as he lit the cigarette dangling from his mouth. He uses one hand to shield the flame from the winter wind, and considers the stranger. 

He looks like a Ranch Hand who made one-too-many wrong turns, and somehow ended up on the shady side of a city he has no business being in. Dom very vaguely remembers going to the Spanish Rodeos in Cuba, he was young and all his uncles would make wagers on the Vaqueros till they were piss drunk, screaming and fighting among the dirt and blood. He doesn’t remember them looking quite like the one in front of them, because this one.....seems less rough around the edges; gentle, almost. He’s got soft brown eyes, and his smile isn’t quite as tipsy as Dominic’s, but, it’s the kindest one in the shitty little bar. Dom slides the lighter back across the picnic table, and takes a long, grateful drag from the cigarette. 

“Es Dominic.” He says simply, his name leaving him like a secret he doesn’t quite want to share, but does anyway for the sake of being another lame local at the bar. Dom scratches under his beard, the grey hairs amongst the dark ones stick out and show his aging. His eyes are still on the other man’s and he tries to not make it weird, like he’s not sizing him up, because he’s not, not really. He doesn’t look like a threat, in anyway, but, it’d be rather interesting if it was some sort of test from his buddies in the Org. Dom only nods over at him, and cocks his brow again, always the left one, because the right’s got an ugly scar he doesn’t quite care to draw attention to and answer questions about. 

 “Y tú? Te ves muy lejos de casa.” Dom asks, it���s simple in the way he words it; he just wants to see if he’ll be as eager to give his name as he was to find out Dominic’s, and if he’s really far from home.

"Dominic... Hm.. Soy Hugo." This time the small chuckle that escaped his lips was on purpose, as he rolled his name over his tongue, as if he could taste his desires and--

Hugo blinked nonchalantly, and grinned, taking another swig of his whiskey, unfortunately the last few drops. It was starting to hit him that he hadn't had any alcohol for over 24 hours, and as he'd been trying to save the money he had for experiences not food, he hadn't eaten in the past 5 hours. This gave a wonderfully dangerous feeling of tipsy invulnerability that he knew would get him into trouble eventually.

"I'm not," Huey continued, this time in English. His family, namely Carla, found it fascinating his inability to maintain Spanish conversation while he was drunk. Huey, didn't care. This stranger spoke both, and in this moment, that's all he cared about. "I'm from Montana. Little ranch down in the Southern part of the state. You on the other hand..." Hugo grinned once more, this time feeling it split his face and warm his cheeks, the rye whiskey bathing him in a thick blanket of happiness and warmth. Fuck, I love whiskey. "...you look like you were born and raised here, Mr. Popular."

[ereardon]

A Place Like This [Chapter 2][Rhett Abbott x OC]

Summary: Rhett Abbott has never met a girl like you. You’re a corporate city girl in Wabang on borrowed company time — he thinks there’s no way you would waste it on him. So when you fall for the local bull rider, you’re both a little surprised. What will it take to get Rhett to realize he can give you everything you’re looking for? And will Rhett be able to reconcile the fact that your job is literally to dismantle Wabang and break apart the only place his family has ever known?

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x OC [Julia Han]

WC: 2.9K

Warning: Cursing, implied smut, some violence

Series masterlist here

“Julia, Dan wants to see you in conference room B.” 

You tossed your head back with a groan, slipping your heels on beneath your desk and standing up, smoothing down the buttons of your blouse and grabbing your laptop before clicking down the hall, past the row of partners’ offices. The good offices, the ones with windows and built-in bars and a couch to collapse on when you got too piss drunk to possibly take the train home at midnight after a client meeting. 

Sliding open the glass door, you cleared your throat. 

“Dan? Charles said you asked for me.” 

“Julia!” Dan turned his megawatt smile on you. “Take a seat.” 

His enthusiasm terrified you. Dan got excited about exactly three things. When the White Sox won, the day his wife signed their divorce settlement and he managed to scrape by without a hefty monthly alimony payment, and acquisitions. 

Dan loved the kinds of deals that could blow up in your face. The kind that sucked you dry and left you for the wolves. They were his kryptonite. 

“How’s it going?” you asked, taking a seat in a black leather rolling chair, crossing one leg over another. 

He lowered himself into the chair next to yours at the head of the table and slid a thin folder over. “Ever been to Wyoming?” 

You shook your head. “Never been one for horses. Or cowboys for that matter.” 

Dan chuckled. “You might change your mind after spending a few weeks there.” 

You sighed and flipped open the folder. “Alright, you have my interest. What is it?”

His eyes sparkled and they told you everything you needed to know about this assignment. 

It was going to be bad. People were going to lose their jobs. Maybe they’d even be forced to leave town. You would be a social pariah in a matter of days. 

And you were going to make the firm tens of millions of dollars. 

***

The town was simple. That was an understatement. 

The guy at the airport had apologized profusely when the only rental car left was a slim Honda sedan instead of the luxury model you had made the reservation for. 

You had sighed, climbing into the black car, and driving the hour and a half to Wabang. Halfway through, your Spotify bluetooth cut out and you swore, rapping your fingernails against the leather steering wheel. 

It was a beautiful drive. You had to give Dan some credit. He could have sent anyone, but he chose you. Wyoming was not part of your normal remit for the firm. You were strictly the midwest agent: Chicago, Minneapolis, Milwaukee.

But you were vying for vice president and he knew it. This was your shot to prove your worth in an office of all white middle aged men. They hadn’t wanted to hire the young female associate. You didn’t fit their mold. You hadn’t gone to Northwestern or UMichigan and been a Tri Delt. You didn’t enjoy the steakhouse, cigars after work and strip club aesthetic that the other partners languished in. 

What’s more, you were a woman. A half-Asian woman, no less. Some saw you as a diversity hire. Others said it was the firm finally entering into the twenty-first century. Either way, you had climbed your way up from the bottom. Dan saw it. The other partners did, too. 

Some might say the Wyoming deal was to get you out of the office. But you knew what it was. A lifeline. A fast track to partner.  

It was your shot. 

***

Your corporate housing was a small apartment above the town’s bakery. It smelled like fresh baked bread in the morning and the entire front room was drenched in natural light by early afternoon. You hated that it was lovely, in the most ordinary way. 

Wabang was such a different type of assignment that you hadn’t done the correct research before jumping on the flight. It was a jeans and boots kind of town. You stuck out in your Jimmy Choos, St. Johns suits, Chanel flap bag. You stuck out for a lot of reasons. 

It was apparent from the moment that you got to town there were a handful of bachelors that had placed you on their radar. Perhaps it was the fact that you were fresh meat. Or that you were one of only a handful of unmarried twenty-something women in a town where the average marriage age was undoubtedly early twenties. 

Either way, when a suave-looking blond in a blue button down approached you outside of the local market, his eyes skimming over your dress before landing on your face, white teeth bared in a shockingly luminescent smile, you felt a strange ick wash over you. 

“Hello there,” he said, leaning against the brick of the building. “I’m Luke Tillerson.” 

You nodded. “Julia Han.” 

He smirked. “Where you from, gorgeous? Not from around here, obviously. Would have remembered a thing like you.” 

The urge to gag was clear and present, but you choked it down. “Listen, sweetheart, we don’t have to do this. The answer is no and I think we both know it.” 

An angry red blush crept over Luke’s chest, up his neck, and you saw his eyes bulge slightly. For a moment, you were almost worried that he might reach out and grab you. There was an air about him that gave you reservation. An instability. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” you followed up quickly, shifting your purse from one side to another, hiking it up on your shoulder. “I’m just in town for a few weeks, tops. I try not to make it a habit of starting things that I can’t follow through with.” 

His fists, which had been balled up against his sides, slowly unwound themselves and you watched him take a deep breath. “Alright, darlin’, guess I gotta accept that.” 

You smiled. “Nice to meet you, Luke.” 

As you turned to walk away, his fingers circled your wrist, tugging you back. A sweat started to break out at your hairline as you turned around, his grip tight and unrelenting. “You change your mind, darlin’, and I’ll be here,” he whispered gruffly, standing so close you could smell his astringent aftershave. “Tillerson ranch. Come by anytime.” 

Luke dropped your wrist and you shook it out at your side. You were used to men like him. Men who took because they thought it was owed to them. Men who had never heard the word no before in their lives. 

They were dangerous. Almost as dangerous as you. 

***

Rhett fiddled with his keys, leaning up against the side of the truck, eyes scanning the main street of Wabang for your signature heels. 

The comment you had made as you walked out of the door at the bar the night before terrified him. You terrified him, in a way. In the best way possible. 

He needed to know what you meant. Even though a part of him wanted to get away, leave Wabang in the dust, Rhett knew that he would always be inextricably tied to this place. This land. His family was Wabang. 

Finally, he spotted you leaving a door near the bakery, dark sunglasses covering most of your face. You had traded in the black heels for a pair of nude ones, and the black dress for a pale blue one that offset your olive skin and dark hair. 

He stepped out onto the sidewalk in your direct path and watched as you lifted the sunglasses to the top of your head and smiled, heading his way. 

“Rhett,” you said softly and just the sound of your voice sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. “How are you?” 

He nodded. “Good,” he whispered gruffly. You took in his hat, worn jeans and boots. It was the morning, still early, and you wondered what exactly he did when he wasn’t riding bulls. “I, uh, I was hoping we could talk again.”

You smiled. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Now?” he said, lips curled up in a soft smile. “Diner’s right over there.” He pointed one long finger to a building down the road. 

“I actually have a meeting with the Mayor in ten minutes,” you replied. “But I’m free for dinner?” 

Rhett felt his chest constrict. He didn’t want to jump the gun and assume it was a date. But the way you were looking at him — sparkling eyes, lips pushed together in a perfect pout. He hoped you meant it as a date. “Yeah, OK,” he nodded. “I’ll pick you up at seven?” 

“Alright. I’m staying right down there. Apartment over the bakery.” 

Rhett nodded and smiled again. “I’ll be there.” 

You slid your sunglasses on and pressed one hand to his muscular bicep, squeezing it gently. “Looking forward to it.” 

***

Rhett waited nervously on the sidewalk outside of your apartment. He was early. Royal had asked him to stay late rebuilding a fence but he had brushed his father off, not letting on that he was taking the newcomer out to dinner. 

Your arrival in town had whipped up a flurry of rumors, but it appeared that only Rhett knew your true reasoning for appearing in Wabang. The Mayor was notably silent about the fact that a corporation wanted to take over the town. He had failed, and a man like him hated to go down without a fight. 

At seven on the dot, he stepped forward and pressed the metal buzzer for the upstairs apartment. Your voice rang through, muffled by the decades old technology. “Coming!”

You swung the door open, almost knocking Rhett off of his feet. He was standing too close to the door, not expecting you to swing it open so violently. 

“Shit!” he whispered as the metal nearly skimmed him and you immediately reached out, pressing your hands to his face. 

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” you said quickly, brushing your fingers across his cheeks and then down his arms, eyes doing a quick assessment. “Are you OK? Did it hit you?” 

He smiled and shook his head, a small section of hair falling into his face. He had a quiet way of observing his surroundings and Rhett simply stretched out his fingers, catching your own as your hands slid down his arms, checking for cuts or scrapes. “I’m fine, darlin’,” he murmured. 

Rhett gripped one of your hands tightly, leading you out onto the sidewalk into the passenger seat of his truck. He pulled open the door, helping you up, and you smiled, climbing in. 

“So where are we going?” you asked once he was settled into the driver’s seat, reversing out of the spot, one hand on the headrest of your seat. You couldn’t help but watch the muscles rippling beneath his clean shirt. 

“Restaurant one town over,” he said in his gravelly voice. “‘Bout a ten minute drive.” 

“Why one town over?” 

Rhett shot you a look, eyebrows raised. “Cause we have some stuff to talk about and I have a feeling you’ll be a little more forthcoming outside of city limits.” 

You chuckled and leaned back against the seat. “So you don’t want to be seen with the town pariah?” 

“Trust me, a man wants to be seen with a girl like you on his arm.” 

***

You ordered a gin and lime over ice, which made Rhett raise his eyebrows. He had you pegged as a red wine girl, or maybe a whiskey sour on a particular night. Not straight gin. 

“So, what’s it like being a bull rider?” you asked. 

“It’s not important or special, really. Just the one thing I felt like I could do around here.” 

“Well it’s interesting to me,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink before leaning forward, sliding your arm around the top of the curved booth backrest, fingers dancing lightly on Rhett’s shoulder. 

He blushed. “I’m sure a city girl like you needs a lot more to be impressed,” he said. “Bet I can’t compete with the kinds of guys you’re used to.” 

You shook your head. “Those guys are all the same. They’re boring, in the absolutely worst ways.” You skimmed a nail across his shoulder toward the slight curl of hair at the nape of his neck. “So you’re wrong. It doesn’t take more to impress me.” 

Rhett could barely focus. His brain was short circuiting as you brushed your fingers across his shoulders and neck. He was acutely aware that you had your legs crossed under the large booth table, one foot wedged tightly beneath his calf. 

He wanted to reach out and touch you, feel your warmth under his fingertips, but he stopped himself as the waitress set down your food. 

“Tell me why you’re really here.” His voice was low and husky. “The deal, the town.” 

You shook your head again. “I said too much last night. It’s business, Rhett. Nothing personal.” 

“You can’t drop a bomb like that and walk away.” 

There was something in his voice that you couldn’t place. You had read him the moment he came up to you in the bar. He was stuck. But perhaps you had overestimated how much he wanted to leave Wabang. 

He was going to take this much more personally than you had hoped. 

“Rhett,” you whispered, placing your fork down on the plate and sliding one hand onto his thigh. He froze, blue eyes hooked on yours. “Honey, trust me when I say I don’t like doing this. But I was sent here to do a job. And I have to see it through.” 

“But who is the buyer?” he asked. “What does this mean for the town? For my ranch.” 

“Your ranch? I thought you said you were a bull rider?” 

“My family has a ranch,” he said softly and the realization began to sink in. He was tied to the town in a way you hadn’t imagined. “Abbott ranch, out on Route Eight. Over next to the Tillersons.” 

“Tillerson,” you repeated. “Like Luke Tillerson?” 

Rhett tensed. “Yeah. You know him?” 

“He kind of cornered me the other day. Tried to ask me out and I said no and he didn’t take it too well.” 

“What do you mean, didn’t take it too well?” 

“Rhett, it’s nothing.” 

“Julia, it’s not nothing,” he said, his eyes trained on yours. “What did he do?” His voice was low, venomous. There was something there. It wasn’t just jealousy. It was years of competition and anger boiled down into a volatile slurry. You could almost feel it radiating off of him. 

“He asked me out and I said no, that I don’t date while I’m on assignment. And then when I went to walk away he grabbed my wrist, hard, pulling me back. That was it.” You rubbed your fingers softly on his thigh. “Rhett, please, it was nothing. Let’s move on.” 

He slammed one fist onto the table, rattling the plates, and you gasped. The other tables around you shot dirty looks, but Rhett looked at the ground, biting his bottom lip. 

“Rhett,” you said and the anger in your voice made him look up. “No. We’re not going to do this. Either you let this go or I’m walking away.” 

“Shit,” he muttered, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Julia, I’m sorry.” His fingers curled over yours where they sat on his thigh. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

You nodded. “It’s alright.”

As you turned back to your dinner, sliding your hand from his leg, Rhett’s mind jumped in circles. What did you mean you didn’t date people on assignment? What was this dinner if that was the case?

When the waitress dropped off the check, you reached for it and Rhett shot you a look. 

“No,” he said forcefully and you hated that it made you wet between your thighs. “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart.” 

You smiled. “Alright, whatever you say, Rhett.” You didn’t want to point out that you made mid-six figures and he was a bull rider. You got the sense it would be deeply offensive to him if you tried to pay. 

Outside, you took a deep breath. The air was so fresh compared to Chicago. Rhett towered over you, even in your heels, one hand pressed against the building wall as he leaned to the side. 

“Did you have a nice time?” you whispered. 

Rhett nodded, a small smile curving his perfect pink lips. “I did, yeah. Did you?” 

He didn’t understand what you were after. What you wanted from him. What you wanted in general. He didn’t understand anything about you. In fact, you terrified him to his core. He had never known a woman like you and that terrified him because all he wanted was to pull you in, press his lips to yours, spend the next fifty years learning every inch of your body with his mouth and hands and mind. 

So when you leaned forward and skimmed your hand through his hair near his ear, pulling his neck down, locking your lips against his, his heart threatened to explode from his body. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, lips still grazing his. “I had a great time.” 

Tag list: @double-j @momc95 @sadpetalsstuff @seresinhangmanjake @shanimallina87 @starrynightskyz @writercole @endofdays56 @coffeeandcuriosities @xoxabs88xox

[ralfmaximus]

Someday

I was there in the playground the day Debra Mae told Penny Tomleson her mamma was going to die. "Liar!" Penny screamed, eyes closed and fists balled. Debra Mae smiled sadly and shook her head. "She's gonna fall off a horse and die. Can't take it back, wish I could." "Liar!" she screamed again, this time flailing at Debra Mae, who stepped aside calmly at the last minute. Almost like she could see it coming.   "My mamma doesn't even like horses! We don't even have a horse!" The kids started chanting fight, fight, fight! in the playground, but I didn't join in. Debra Mae looked me straight in the eye, the very first time she'd ever done that, and smiled her sad little smile again. My heart went floppity-flop. I wanted to rush over and wrap my arms around her, defend her, protect her. But for some reason I didn't. Penny spun herself around but there was no fight in her. She only stood there, crying.  And Debra Mae hugged her and whispered something, making Penny jolt and back away, crying even harder. "Bitch," she said through twisted lips, before running away. Later I asked Debra Mae what she'd said.   "Oh, nothing." She whispered to me so the other kids wouldn't hear.   We sat together under the shade of the old pear tree in one far corner of the playground. Penny had gone inside but the others had started a game of kick-ball. "Must've been something," I insisted. "Tell me!" She took a deep breath. "All I said was: it's okay your mamma's gonna die, cus then your daddy leaves, and you'll get to live with your grandma, who's nice. I was just trying to help." She looked sideways at me, as if seeking approval. "You scare people, Debra Mae," I said without thinking.   She thought about that for a second before nodding.   "But it's not your fault," I added after a moment. It was true enough. I desperately wanted to hold her hand, but didn't. Instead we watched the other kids play kick-ball until Miss Harmon clapped her hands, signaling the end of recess. -- Penny Tomleson's mother died a month later.   Penny's dad had been repainting their house and asked Penny's mom to come bring him a beer. She'd climbed atop a saw-horse to reach the beer up to where Mr.Tomleson crouched on some scaffolding, and Mrs.Tomleson slipped and fell into a box of tools. Something sharp had poked clear through her neck and she bled to death as Mr.Tomelson watched. The sheriff came to get Penny from school, and when she heard about her mamma Penny stood there, shivering. "It just happened, maybe an hour ago," Debra Mae whispered to me. "She died, just like I said.  And now Penny's going to her grandma's house. Just like I said." "Why? What's wrong with Mr.Tomleson?" "He's a drunk. He can't take care of Penny, and he never will. He'll-- " But we were interrupted by Miss Harmon rapping a desk with her yardstick, her favorite way to get our attention. We spent the rest of the day adding and subtracting fractions. All of us except Penny. -- It was months later, well into summer before I worked up the nerve to ask. "Debra Mae, what's going to happen to me?" I imagined her blinking in surprise next to me in the tall grass, where we lay beneath blue skies and puffy white clouds. It was late July, hot as Hell, but somehow it was bearable when Debra Mae was near. It took a long time for her to answer, but I was patient. "Hush, now," she told me, finally. "That's not something—" I sat up beside her in the grass. "You seen something!  I know you, know how you see things.  It's happened often enough. Tell me!" "No, it's nothing like that." But I was unrelenting. I had to know. Eventually she felt my eyes boring into her scalp or something, cus she turned back to me with one of her sad smiles. "I think you know." "No, I think I don't." She took a breath, let it out. Came to a decision.   "Look, you're already dead. You know it, otherwise you wouldn't hang out with the likes of me." Something dropped away inside my stomach.   "No," I lied, "I'm right here. See?" I reached out to touch her hand, something I'd thought about all summer. But she pulled away. "Don't. We can't. Not… ever." Silence built inside me at these words. I drew back, placed my hands carefully in my lap. She'd known all along. But of course she did… how stupid was I for thinking otherwise?   But within moments my heart beat a little faster at a new thought. "Not… ever?" She smiled at this, that gentle sad smile. "Well, not for a long time. I'll die too, you know. Someday." I looked at her with sly eyes. "Don't suppose you know when?" And finally, she laughed.

[10moonymhrivertam]

He left the Dreaming a few streets down from the New Inn. He suspected if he stepped through the doorway he’d be jostled by drunk young people. He hesitated once the inn came into view. It had not been a century since he’d seen it last - not even a year. But in the past two months, he’d been seeing pieces of dreams that he suspected had context outside of the Dreaming, that belonged in his missing century. There were stories he had missed. Potential he couldn’t utilize. He expected Hob would be as forgiving of this break in routine as the last, but Hob made a habit of surprising him, pleasantly or not.

He found a closed sign on the door once he reached it. A step through the Dreaming put him on the other side, in the darkened pub. He made his way toward the stairs that Hob had pointed out to him, during a grand recounting of his discovery that the White Horse was to close. He could see light filtering from beneath the door at the top, so he made his way up. He rapped against the door.

“Come on in, Jo!” Hob called. Ah. Perhaps this wasn’t the best of times. And yet, he was already here.

“Is it alright that I’m not ‘Jo’?”

Hob nearly cleared his armchair when he startled. Dream fought back a smile.

“Yeah,” he managed to stutter. “More than. Is everything alright?” His face warped into concern with impressive speed.

“Nothing dangerous, but something…off. I thought, perhaps, you might have an insight.”

“Do my best. Would you like to take a seat?” Hob seemed flustered at being met on his own territory. Dream nodded as he sat. Before he had put his concern to words, there was another knock.

“Jo, that you?”

“Who else would it be, you recluse?” Without further preamble, Johanna Constantine bumped the door open, a pair of boxes in her arms. They brought the smell of bread and grease into the room. “Do you even have work friends? I mean, really, you don’t want me to chuck holy water at you every so often, you could stand to go out drinking.” She crossed the room to the kitchen island without so much as glancing at them.

“I drink with friends!” He protested. “You’d be bored out of your mind on Thursday nights if I never drank with friends.”

“No, Thursday nights wouldn’t be emergency only.” Constantine still hadn’t turned around, apparently looking for plates.

“You know, I haven’t seen you go drinking with friends since then.” Dream teased.

“I drink with you!” Hob squawked, completely missing Constantine’s slightly less amusing startle response - apparently, she knew where Hob kept his knives. It didn’t amount to anything, the knife falling to her side once she caught sight of him. His eyes flickered back to Hob.

“Well. You drink.”

“If you would tell me what you like, you bastard, we could drink together.” Constantine glanced at Hob, askance.

“I have no need for it, nor any interest in acquiring a taste for it,” he admitted.

“Suppose that’s not really a surprise,” Hob relented. “Did you want to do something instead of the pub, like - go to the park, or - something?” He asked awkwardly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed, but it’s not necessary. And it did sound like you’d gone to some trouble.” Dream tipped his chin up, hoping the gesture encompassed the building.

“Did I fall asleep in the car?” Constantine interjected. “Is this some kind of prank? I didn’t think you had a sense of humor,” she accused, pointing with the tip of the knife.

“Of course you two know each other.” He sounded amused, but it rested like a veneer over another emotion Dream couldn’t quite identify. “Has she done a job for you as well?”

“In a sense.” The only discussion of his captivity had been a euphemistic apology that he’d been unavoidably detained. He didn’t quite know how to breach the topic of his lost vestments without admitting that his only saviors had been patience and chance. “Constantine.” He nodded in greeting. She gave him a dirty look and plunged the knife back into its place in the block.

“So this is a social call, then?” She asked skeptically, gesturing between them.

“Not quite.”

“Oh, right, the ‘off’ thing. How can I help?”

He was silent for a moment. Once he’d resigned himself to Constantine making this more complicated than it had to be, he spoke.

“I was wondering if, perhaps, we could speak in more depth about the cultural development in recent years.”

“Is the Internet stumping you or is it something else? Bit broad, is all.” His mouth twisted briefly at ‘stumping’, but he repressed any further reaction.

“Recent stories that appeal to a broad demographic.” His eye had been caught by identical blue doorways that almost never lead to the same place; red steam engines despite the fact that trains had clearly grown sleeker and quieter; a handful of recurring ball gowns of no particular period which looked difficult-at-best to recreate in the Waking.

Hob sighed deeply and sat back in his chair. Dream thought ‘overwhelmed’ was a fair assessment of the look he sent to Constantine.

“I’ve got something,” Constantine declared. From an over-the-shoulder bag, she pulled a purple box. Dream sat forward at catching sight of the thing the young woman on the cover was standing in front of. Perhaps he already had one of his answers. “New rule - someone comes over on pizza night, they’re participating. Settle in, Dream, you’re ours for two hours,” she declared.

“Well *there‘s* a nickname. There a story there?” Hob seemed pleased, as though he thought he would get to tease them both. Dream felt cold.

“What do you mean?” Constantine asked, distracted, having crossed the room to fiddle with the technology there. Dream needed control over this. Now.

“It is not…a nickname, as such.” His extremities tingled. He curled one hand into a fist against the arm of the chair, moving the other into his lap. “I have many names. I have failed to give you even one. Hob Gadling, I am Dream of the Endless.” Who are you? A wizard? A saint? “Morpheus.” But why? Who are you? “Oneiros.” Who are you, truly? What’s your name? An answer for each time the question had been asked, because Constantine had beat him to it. He had meant to answer the question long past, before her ancestor had interrupted. He should’ve thought to do it two months ago, but Hob hadn’t asked, and he’d been too grateful for how *normal* it felt, when everything else didn’t, to remember that Hob still only ever called him ‘friend’ or ‘stranger’.

“Dream,” Hob echoed, staring at him. And in the set of his brow, yes, there was some upset, but - his eyes were so wondrous. “Morpheus. A god, then?” He asked, tentative.

“No.” He inhaled to go on, but -

“My gran called the Endless anthropomorphic personifications,” Constantine pronounced, a remote in her hand. “They beat out gods. No gods without stuff to be gods of.”

“So you *are* dreaming?”

Dream suspected he was merely processing aloud, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yes.”

“Huh.” Hob fell quiet. Dream bowed his head to leave him to it. Constantine didn’t allow the silence to last, taking a seat on the floor and practically throwing Hob’s food at him.

“Too damn maudlin in here. I have a solution.”

Hob glanced at the screen and read what Dream gathered to be a table of contents, of a sort.

“Oh, fuck you, Johanna,” he whined.

“Well, you drop your weird friendship with Dream on me out of nowhere, I reserve the right to annoy the hell out of you.”

“What about it is annoying?”

“You’ve known him a while, haven’t you? Has his Shakespeare issue not come up?”

“Issue?” He frowned at Hob.

“I don’t like him.” Hob crossed his arms.

“Didn’t you admit he was half-decent?”

“After *you* were done with him, yeah. Anyway, this take’s too…charming,” Hob said begrudgingly, gesturing at the television.

“Alright, shush. Operation Annoy Hob and Educate Dream is on.” Johanna pressed a button, dismissing the menu and filling the screen with a story.

[angeloparker]

bab, i’m really terrible at “would you rather?” questions so here’s a few “have you ever?” ones off the top of my head:

have you ever shoplifted?

have you ever been blacklisted from an event, or a place?

have you ever been abroad on holiday? (if so, where and how was it? and/or if not, where would you like to go?)

and… have you ever done karaoke? (what did you sing? and/or what’s your go-to song?)

I am bad at thinking up would you rather questions too, but that’s all good. These are fun!

1. Have you ever shoplifted?

As a kid, I stole a candy bar from the grocery store because my mom wouldn’t get it for me. But I got as far as the parking lot before I burst into tears and confessed. I brought it back inside and apologized to the cashier who put a dollar of their own in the register and told me to keep it to get me to stop crying.

2. Have you ever been blacklisted from an event or place?

I don’t think so! I think I have a divisive relationship with one of my old employers and may be blacklisted some places within the industry. And I know my friends got us kicked out from a fraternity party once in school.

3. Have you ever been abroad on holiday?

My family tends to favor beach/resort holidays, so we’ve been abroad on cruises or to places like the Bahamas or Aruba. I’m really bad in hot weather and doing things like laying by a pool or on the beach. I prefer to visit cities and go to museums and historic sites and things like that so I wouldn’t choose it if booking my own vacation. My family is really good about knowing that and letting me pick which restaurants we go to or also finding some stuff I might like at night so I’d go again to spend time with them. But I’m trying to get them to go on vacations places I would prefer, like in Europe and Asia to sight see.

4. Have you ever done karaoke?

I LOVE karaoke. It’s truly one of my favorite activities. I have not been in years since the pandemic started though. I love doing karaoke sober (I mean I don’t drink anymore but even when I did), because I think there is nothing more liberating than belting out your favorite songs and a bunch of drunk people in the bar acting like you are the second coming of Celine Dion because you know the words and can stay on beat. They want to be your back up dancers and think you’re amazing. It’s so fun. In the past, I have developed a list of songs I really like to sing badly at karaoke but there have also been full albums released in the pandemic era that I have yet to sing in public:

Go to’s: Pat Benatar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot, Katy Perry - Dark Horse (I also do the rap verse), Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run, The Rolling Stones - Satisfaction, Old Crow Medicine Show - Wagon Wheel, a broad selection of songs by ABBA, Alanis Morissette - One Hand In My Pocket. And I am on a quest for someone who will sing Love Shack by the B-52’s with me. And also my whole heart aches to sing anything off the album Gaslighter by the Chicks because I haven’t been since it was released.