#livestock agent

[fanficforlife]

Chapter Eleven

You took a peppermint out of your pocket and gave it to Storm, "you did great." While she ate it, you pet her moody-coloured neck. Over the past two weeks, you and Kayce had been working with her, getting her used to a saddle and riding. She had done amazingly well and this was the first ride out of the corral.

Kayce tied the two horses to a low-hanging branch so they wouldn't wander off before the two of you walked into your meadow.

"You've been quiet today. Is everything okay?" You asked after sitting on the lush grass next to him.

"Dad talked to me this morning." His hand wrapped around yours, which was resting on his leg. "He wants me to run for livestock agent."

"Livestock agent?"

"You help ranchers with their cattle and horses, could be inspecting and sorting them for sales. Make sure strays aren't getting shipped, one ranch's cattle don't get in with someone else's. People moving from out of state and fencing off land and now the cattle can't get to their summer pasture. Checking on dead animals, on ones that get shot by mistake or on purpose. Catching thieves. Getting ones back that get out of their fence."

You shifted closer so your sides were touching and ran your fingers up and down his arm. "Thinking about Lee?"

He nodded. "And, you and Tate." His gaze went to your horses. "Everything is going good right now. I'm on the ranch every day. I get to see you during the day, I'm here when Tate gets home from school."

"Your relationship with Tate won't change. He will still see you in the morning before you go to work. When you get home he can tell you all about his day at the dinner table and you can spend the evening together."

"And, us?"

You smiled and cuddled into him, "We will be just as happy as we are now. It might even make us miss each other."

"Then maybe I could get you to move in with us." He chuckled and pulled you onto his lap. "Before you came here, I was thinking about moving off the ranch. Getting as far away from this place as I could. There is always someone who wants the land. They want it bad enough to fight for it; the cattle, us. I got enough of that in the Navy. Then you came."

"Do you still want to get away from here?"

"Yes and no. You're here. And, I know Dad loves having Tate here. Dad always wants me to do something: don't join the Navy so I can raise Tate, be the foreman of the ranch. He wants me to be a livestock agent because it could help the ranch. Taking the job would get me off the ranch for a part of the day. I could help other people." His jaw clenched, "if I'm not here if he finds you…"

"There is always someone close by: your dad, Rip, one of the wranglers. They'll stop him before anything can happen. You've assured me of that more times than I can count." You tucked his hair behind his ear, "If this is something you want to do, you should do it. Whatever it is we will be okay."

He nodded and looked out at the trees. "We wouldn't be able to sneak off for our dates during the day."

"No." You left your spot and straddled his lap. "We would just have to make up for it when you are home." Your lips pressed against his before resting your hands against the sides of his neck. "Whatever you decide, I just want you to be happy doing it."

"Have I ever told you that you are an amazing woman?" His hand slid into your hair. "You always say exactly what I need to hear to calm the chaos in my head."

"Well, it's like you've said from the beginning. We're just made for each other."

His crooked smile formed. "That we are. Whether God thought so or not, Lee would have made it happen."

"He definitely would have." You gave him a long kiss before standing up and giving his hand a tug.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"As much as I want to stay here and prove just how right we are for each other…"

He chuckled, "You want to get back on Storm."

"I just never thought she would be well enough to ride."

"Baby, you don't have to explain it to me. I get it. Besides, we have the rest of our lives to prove how good we are together." He pulled you against his side and placed a kiss on your hairline. "Let's go further up the mountain. There's a lookout I want to show you. Dad brought it to me when I turned thirteen though so I might not be able to find it."

"Good thing it's Saturday and Tate and your dad are spending the afternoon fishing."

After climbing on your horses he brought his alongside yours. "Thank you for everything."

"I'm always here." You smiled and you both leaned over for a kiss. "Now where to?"

*****

Kayce's hand tightened around yours as you walked into the bar. He had taken the livestock agent job and he had just finished his last day as the ranch foreman, putting Rip back in charge. The wranglers said it was time for a little going away party for Kayce and a celebration for Rip. Along with you and Kayce, were Beth and Rip and the wranglers.

"There's a spot in the corner that should fit us all." Beth pointed out so you all made your way over.

Over the next two hours, you heard stories of some of the funnier things the wranglers had experienced and about Kayce and Rip. You laughed and joked around. You couldn't remember the last time you had gone out with a group and had this much fun. The only other times had been with Nick and his friends and those usually never ended well.

"I'm going to get a water. Anyone need anything?" You asked who was sitting around the table. The others were currently playing pool. When everyone told you they were good, you placed a kiss on Kayce's cheek before going up to the bar.

"Let me buy you a drink, gorgeous?" A cowboy who had just walked in with his friends asked.

You shook your head. "I don't drink and I-"

"Then let me show you off on the dance floor." He stepped closer, his fingers trailing down your arm.

Your eyes went over his shoulder to your table where Kayce was sitting on the edge of his chair, his hands balled into fists. "I have a boyfriend." You took your glass of water and pushed past the cowboy, making a beeline for your boyfriend. As soon as you sat down on his lap, you pressed your lips against his. His hands instantly relaxed, one went to your waist while the other slid into your hair, intensifying the kiss.

"Get a room. Geez," Ryan teased and threw a peanut at the two of you.

You and Kayce smiled at each other before he looked over at the bar. When the man who flirted with you realized who your boyfriend was, he gave a quick nod and disappeared into the crowd.

Lloyd chuckled and threw a peanut at Ryan, "You do know you just harassed your boss right?"

"I'm not his boss anymore, "Kayce grinned at them before focusing on you. "Hey, you."

"Hi," you smiled before leaning in and brushing your nose against his.

"Mmm," his hands went to your waist and pulled you closer. You giggled softly. "I love that sound." He said quietly.

Warmth filled your chest, "I think we should go."

"Yeah?" He smirked.

"Yeah," you returned the look. He gently pushed you off his lap and grabbed your hand.

"Off so soon?" Ryan grinned.

Kayce grabbed some peanuts out of the bowl on the table and threw them at him with a playful grin. "Watch it or I'll make you clean the stalls."

"I thought you said you weren't my boss anymore," Ryan laughed.

"Come on, beautiful," Kayce's lips brushed against your temple before he guided you out of the bar and to his truck. "Where to?" He asked after pulling you against his side and starting the vehicle.

"Home, a back alley, some back road, I don't care."

He smiled and pulled out of the parking lot.

Fifteen minutes later he parked next to an empty pasture in the middle of nowhere. You looked around.

"Don't worry, baby. We're on Yellowstone."

An embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"God, you're adorable," His hand came up and rested on your jaw, his thumb running across your bottom lip. "You have no idea how hard it was to not get up and break that guy's hand for touching you."

You got up and straddled him, "I would much rather kiss you here than through prison bars."

"Here is definitely better." He shifted slightly making it easier for you to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. "Fuck, baby." His head fell back as you started pumping his dick.

You pulled your underwear to the side and sunk onto him. You both moaned.

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are?"

"Mhm," your hand slid into his hair as you slowly rode him. "You are just as perfect."

He laughed huskily. "I don't think I've ever been called perfect."

"You are, without a doubt," you kissed him, "Mr livestock agent."

The smirk you loved formed while his hands slid down your back before gripping your hips. "And, we are without a doubt fucking perfect together." It didn't take long until you both fell apart in each other's arms.

*****

You opened your eyes to find an empty side of the bed. The sheet is cold. After getting dressed in a change of clothes that you had kept at Kayce's, leggings, a tank top and an oversized cardigan, you stepped into the hallway.

The bathroom light was on and the door open so you walked over. Kayce was standing in front of the mirror hanging above the sink fighting back tears.

"Kayc?"

He saw you in the reflection but didn't say anything.

"I'm here. You can talk to me. I love you and you know whatever you say stays with me."

Still nothing.

"Baby, why won't you talk to me?" You stood in the doorway for a few more seconds before walking away with tears in your eyes.

The rising sun cast the sky in a kaleidoscope of colour as you leaned against the fence railing, your chin resting on your folded arms. It wasn't long before footsteps approached behind you, followed by your cowboy leaning on the fence beside you. "Did I do something?"

"You didn't do anything, Violet."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you completely."

"Then why won't you talk to me? I told you everything about me. Every horrible detail. Even though I thought you wouldn't want me anymore and would tell me to leave. I told you because what happened in the past is a part of me, just like every day since then. And, everything that happens in the future." You placed your hand on his which was resting on the fence rail. "There is nothing you could have done that will change how I feel about you. I love you, Kayce."

He shook his head as he looked down at your hand on his. "I've done things that you wouldn't like, things that would change how you see me."

"When I told you what happened to me it was like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Part of it was because you finally knew but most of it- I had been keeping everything inside. I never told anyone when he hurt me. I never told anyone about what he made me do. I never told anyone that he made me watch him kill a man and then clean it up. I buried everything. But, it kept eating away at me until I didn't want to live anymore. Lee knew that Nick would get angry and hurt me but that was it. I didn't tell them that he raped me or about what happened in the basement at first. I didn't tell him because I didn't want to burden him any more than he already was." You lifted Kayce's arm so you could slide in between him and the fence. He moved closer, resting his forearm across the fence board behind your upper back. His other hand went to your waist. "After Lee made me tell him, I wasn't the only one who felt better. He said finally knowing why I would get so lost in my head helped him. When my memories took hold he would worry, he wanted to help me but didn't know what to do. When I told him he would still worry but knowing why I was so upset helped him be there for me. Sometimes he would just sit and have coffee with me or he would take me outside and show me what he was working on to take my mind off it. You can't keep everything in, Kayce. It's going to end up killing you." He looked away. "Baby, look at me." You didn't continue until he did. "I promise that there is nothing you could have done that will make me leave you."

He tucked your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering in the soft strands. "I'll tell you…"

"It doesn't have to be everything all at once." You rested your hands against the sides of his neck, your thumbs running along his jaw. "Just promise you will. I can't lose you to the past."

"I promise, baby." He moved in closer. "It was a nightmare, a memory from the Navy…" he took a deep breath, "we were in Pakistan, not supposed to be there but we were. We blew the door off the house of high profile target. Inside he was holding his wife as a shield and had his daughter on a leash in front of him. He started shooting rounds off with AK 47. He killed two of my men. I had to make a choice. I-I killed him, his wife and his little girl." His head dropped.

"Hey," you said softly as your hands cupped his face and brought it back up so he would look at you, "Kayce, you did what you had to do to save your life and the lives of the rest of your men."

"I killed a woman, a kid." Tears began filling his eyes.

You wrapped your arms around him, and he immediately buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms crushing you against him. "And, I know that you and the rest of the men you were in charge of are alive today because of it. You wouldn't have done it if there was any other option." You held him until his shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing returned to normal. When he lifted his head you wiped the remaining tears off his cheeks. "You said that he was high profile which means he would have been one of the people giving orders that resulted in people's deaths. Innocent people. You saved more lives than just your men's."

His hands came up and cupped your face, "You really are my angel."

"And, you're mine."

He gave you a long, slow kiss before resting his forehead against yours. "Promise me you'll never leave."

"I promise." You said but deep down you knew that there might be a time when you would have to break that promise.

*****

Tate came bounding out the front door to where you and Kayce were standing. "I'm ready!"

"I've never seen you this excited to go to school." Kayce chuckled.

"Cause you're bringing me." The little boy beamed up at his dad. "I don't remember the last time you brought me."

He placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "It will probably just be for today."

"That's okay. I like it when Violet brings me too."

"Have a good day at school. I'll see you when I pick you up."

Tate gave you a hug. "I will. Dad, we have to go so we're not late."

"I'll be right there." When Tate headed for the truck, Kayce's hands went to your waist and pulled you against him. "Hi."

Your hands slid over his shoulders, "hi."

"I know that I'm going to see you at dinner tonight but I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too but I'm sure you're going to be too busy to even think about that." He didn't look convinced. "The day will go by fast and then you'll be back here."

He sighed. "And, then I'll do it all again the next day. Maybe I shouldn't have taken the job."

"Just focus on one day at a time. Today you're going to get to drop Tate off at school before going to your office. You will do whatever you have to at work then come home."

"Home to you and Tate." He held you tighter. "Promise you'll think about it?"

"I will, I promise. Now you need to go or you and Tate will both be late."

His lips pressed against yours. "I love you."

"I love you too." After giving him another kiss you gave him a gentle push towards the porch steps. "Have a good day, baby."

The smile you loved formed on his handsome face, "knowing I got you waiting for me when I get home will always make it a good day."

"Dad, that was really cheesy," Tate said from inside the truck leaving you giggling.

"Just wait until you find a girl you love," Kayce told him through the open driver's window.

"Eww, girls are gross."

Kayce chuckled as he climbed in. Before he drove away he winked at you leaving butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Good grief, he makes me feel like I'm in high school. You shook your head and started on your list for the day.

*****

You walked into the building where Kayce's office was half an hour before you had to pick Tate up from school. "Hi, I'm here to see Kayce."

"Right through that door, hun." The older receptionist smiled.

"Thank you." You smiled before going to a closed door and gently knocking on it. When you heard Kayce say come in, you went inside.

"Letty," a grin lit up his face when he saw you. "You're wearing the dress you wore on our first date."

"I am and I thought you could use some coffee."

He got up and came around his desk. "Thanks, baby." He took one of the takeout cups filled with coffee from you but set it on his desk so he could wrap his arms around your waist.

You set your cup next to his and placed your hands on his chest. "It's Friday already."

"Yeah, my first week went by fast. Still missing you just as much during the day though. I don't know if I should've taken this job. I don't like being away from you."

"Would it help if I moved in with you?"

He froze, his eyes widening. "You thought about it?"

"I did. You make me happy and you make me feel safe." Your hands came up and rested against the sides of his neck. "And, I love you, Kayce. More than anything in the world."

His lips crashed into yours. When you parted you were both out of breath. After quickly locking the door, he went to push things back from the front of his desk but you stopped him.

"Not here." You took his hand and walked around, pushing his chair out of the way and moving the calendar aside. "Here so every time you're sitting at your desk you will picture us."

"Turn around." When you did he bent you over the top of the desk. He pushed the skirt of your dress up over your ass. "Don't move." You looked over your shoulder to see him pull his chair up and sit down. "Spread your legs." Once you did, he pulled his chair closer, settling between your legs. "There," he said after ripping your panties off, "the perfect view."

"Kayc," you whined.

His husky chuckle filled the room before his tongue went to work on your clit. It wasn't long until you were close. When his finger took over and his tongue slid inside you it pushed you over the edge. "You are fucking perfect, Letty." He praised.

"You're not so bad yourself." You smiled back at him.

"Yeah?" He smirked as he unzipped his jeans.

"Yes," it turned into a soft moan as he thrust into you. "Mmm, yes."

His hands gripped your hips while he leaned over you. "You gotta be quiet, baby, or I'm gonna get fired," he said next to your ear. All you could do was nod as he pulled out and entered you again.

After a couple minutes, he spun you around, picked you up and set you on the desk. With one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his waist, he thrust inside you. He knew you had to pick up Tate soon so he started pounding into you.

It took everything you had to keep quiet. Kayce could tell so just before you both came his lips captured yours, swallowing your moans.

"I love you, Violet."

"I love you, Kayce." You placed your hand along his stubble-covered jaw. "More than you know."

"Move in tonight? Me and Tate are back in the lodge since Rip has the foreman's house, it shouldn't take long. You'll just be moving your stuff into my room."

A soft smile pulled at your lips. "How about we do it tomorrow? Tate wanted to play board games tonight with us and your dad."

"Stay with me tonight?" When you nodded the smile you loved spread across his face.

"I have to go pick up Tate."

"Have fun with the kid."

You picked up your underwear off the floor but instead of putting them in your purse, you slipped them into your boyfriend's pocket. "Have fun here."

His arms wrapped around you from behind and walked to the door moulded to your back. "Just wait until Tate's asleep."

"Kayce," you scolded when he sucked on the spot your neck and shoulder met, leaving a hickey.

He chuckled while spinning you around, "god, you're cute. I'll see you at dinner."

After a quick goodbye kiss, you headed for the school. Your mind was on what it would be like living in the same room as Kayce.

The overwhelming fear that consumed you when you first got to Yellowstone had been slowly dissipating. It had almost been ten months since you left Nick. You knew that the second he found you he would drag you back to California. He was the best detective in the city, he was smart, he knew how to talk to people and get them to give them the information he wanted. But, here you were, living a life you used to only dream about. When Kayce asked you to move in before he started his job as a livestock agent he assured you that you were safe here. He told you that more times than you could count since you came here but this time you believed it. Not a hundred percent, a small piece of you would always be ready to go even though you had promised you wouldn't. Staying here meant you loved Kayce, Tate and everyone else at Yellowstone. And, loving them meant that there was always a chance you would have to leave to keep them safe. But, you were done with Nick controlling your life. Living at Yellowstone made you happy and being with Kayce made you even happier. So, fuck Nick!

*************************************************** Tag List: @alisbackalleybbq @a-beaverhausen @chloe-skywalker @wabi-sabi1090 @saintnourah @852853

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[disbandandisperse]

props to jerry dipoto for pointing out the weirdness of calling players "rentals" when they are on one year deals and get traded for at the deadline. very dehumanizing language to use

[midwestcowgirlsdream]

Do you ever just want to get away, start fresh?

[tragedy-of-commons]

a deciduous thing.

scarecrow!boothill x gn!farmer!reader.

summary: Never in your life did you think that your peaceful day-to-day would grind to a halt after one of your scarecrows comes to life. Apparently, his name is Boothill, and he's insistent on making your life 10x harder than it has to be.

contains: modern au, comedy/crack with surreal elements, setting is heavily implied to be american (sorry), reader has depth, possibly inaccurate depictions of farming but i tried my best, country and southern things™, autumn hijinks

word count: 4.5k

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee, @singularity-sam, @harque, @thestarswhisper, @wystiix, @mikashisus, @tetrachrxmacy, @mitsvriii, @akutasoda

notes: written for the @/stellaronhvnters stellaween fest. my chosen prompt was scarecrow! ao3 link here 🎃

The first time you see him, it’s a crisp October morning.

Thank the stars it’s overcast today - the fall weather is just settling in, so of course it’s still hot, but nothing like the suffocating humidity you’re normally used to. Besides that, work is work; meaning that you have to get up just before dawn to go about putting a dent in your endless list of chores. 

The pleasant breeze tickles your nose and the forearms flexed under your rolled up sleeves, aiding you in your endeavor of feeding and tending to the livestock. The hens cluck passively as they allow you to take their eggs inside, the cows and goats don’t fuss at all when you milk them, and to your surprise, baths also go well (despite how you’re covered in suds after). To have such an easy morning is rare, but you simply chalk it up to the arrival of autumn. 

Ma used to say that fall is lucky, as it signals the start of renewal. You aren’t superstitious by any means, but the sentiment has always stuck with you, engraved in fond memories of stumbling around on your chubby legs through rows of sweet potatoes and watching the colorful leaves hit the ground, balanced on some distant relative’s hip. 

Yes, today is gonna be lucky.

The sun hasn’t yet reached the middle of the sky when you drag yourself to the pumpkin patch. Normally you’d wait another day or two until the weather is sunny to harvest the rotund globes of orange, but you’re already cutting it close; Halloween is gonna be here before you know it, and you don’t want the fruit to overripen or become too bleached by the elements. Moreover, you’d like to give away a pumpkin or two to the neighbors.

Every year, it’s the same tradition. Miss Kafka and little (not so much anymore) Silver Wolf down the road have been your only companions since the farm became your sole responsibility. When the season for ghouls and ghosts is upon your little rural town, you help them hoist up gaudy decorations to show off on their lawn, politely shoving a pumpkin or three into their arms, your own addition to their festive display.

According to them, often over sheets of newspaper as you three carve crude jack-o-lanterns with switchblades, your crops can’t be beat. Not by any chain market or grocery store standards, anyhow. You take pride in that; Pa always made you promise him to never overuse pesticides or sacrifice quality by automating the harvesting process - which you honor - even if you sometimes daydream about combine-harvesters and a few other dozen gadgets to make your life easier.

The patch in question is still green and healthy, boasting vibrant fruit by the dozen. The white and orange pumpkins mesh together in a patchwork display of sunset and beige, thick vines acting as their binding agent. You’ve grown fond of the sight, despite the monotony of almost-but-not-quite tripping over each crop bigger than your leather boots. Wiping the minimal sweat from your brow, you bump open the wooden gate with your hip, glove-clad and toting around your giant pruners.

They’re a bit on the heavier side, but you found them on the side of the road for free, fixing the rust issue with a bit of vinegar and baking soda - there’s no way you’re not gonna get your use out of them. Ambling over to the first row of pumpkins, you squat down, feeling the dirt and grass cushion your knees.

The first few you inspect still look pretty good. Firm rind, no blemishes or rot, plump and tough. You decide that those’ll be the ones you give away - they’ll make fine jack-o-lanterns, having plenty of surface area to plunge a knife across, creating spooky faces that’ll scare any miscreant egg-throwing hooligans away. Well, that’s your take on things. Maybe you’re just getting too old for mischief.

The next row is even more promising, housing the largest pumpkin you’ve ever seen. You’ve been monitoring its growth for the past few weeks, sure, but it seems to have bloated overnight - to the size of two human heads! You’re still skeptical, though. If a pumpkin gets this big, this fast, there’s more room for parasites, and it could also hint at some internal mushiness that’ll make it decompose quicker. 

But here’s where your ace comes into play: the test.

You ball your hand up into a fist, knocking on the big boy with just enough force. To your surprise (and subdued delight), the resounding noise is hollow - you’d almost describe it as baritone. Even better, it withstood the force with a firmness indicating that of a healthy pumpkin! Today really is lucky, you muse, readying your pruners.

Wrestling yourself over the row, knees on either side of your pumpkin of choice, careful not to damage the fruit - you eyeball about five or six inches of stem, beginning to hack away at the vine diligently. It doesn’t take long before you free the product of your labor from its brethren, victorious.

…it’s, uh, heavier than you anticipated. Lifting it up into your arms immediately, you grunt, quickly discarding your glorified scissors onto the ground for stability. At least these days you don’t make the mistake of picking up the fruit by the stem, as tempting as that is - you learned the hard way as a tween when the patch was a new feature, your first home-grown pumpkin breaking under your mistake of yanking it up so carelessly. Ma had laughed right in your face, the traitor.

You stand there for a moment, straining, electing on what to do next. You could check on the rest of the patch after you get this big boy inside. You don’t want it to spoil too quickly off the vine. After a moment, you reckon that storing it in the drier part of your pantry, perfectly mild and unheated, should do the trick. Yeah, that’ll work just fine until you can take the time to carve your one obligatory jack-o-lantern out of this behemoth.

Alright, it’s settled. You pivot on your heel, ready to make the arduous trek back the house--

And that’s when you hear it.

Your reaction is delayed as you process what you’re hearing. It sounds like distant cursing or something close to it - a coarse voice shouting in rage. It reminds you of those aggravated drunkards that populate the only shitty bar in town, always riled up over some game of football or some argument with the Missus. 

Did a trespasser decide to test your patience today, coming onto your property and bombarding you with the same remarks you’ve always been leveled with? Why are you such a hermit? Why don’t you have any friends? When are you going to settle down and get married like the rest of us? When are you going to get over their deaths and move on?

Not today, nuh uh, no chance. Anger floods your core as you swivel around, searching for the source of your oncoming headache. They’re still yelling, so they can’t be that far. 

When your eyes land on the figure in the distance, your first reaction is confusion. The new scarecrow you’d put up a month or two ago in anticipation of harvest season seems to be writhing. Your first reasonable explanation is that a few vermin have burrowed inside of it, making themselves at home and jostling it around as they tunnel and scramble. 

That doesn’t explain the utterly human wails and the jerky, purposeful movements seizing its straw arms. You squint, heart rate picking up accordingly. It’s too far away to jump to any batshit crazy conclusions, you know that, but the intuition you were born with, the same instinct that’s saved your skin a hundred times before - is telling you that today might not be so lucky after all.

“The fuck,” you mutter, still cradling the humungous pumpkin in your arms.

You take a few steps closer, straightening up tall on your tiptoes. The scarecrow in question is stood right in the middle of the massive, adjoining field, a statue among the swaying of golden wheat. When it was time to replace the old scarecrow (it was torn to shreds by the talons of crows and other rodents), you’d invested in something cheap but durable, almost forgetting about its existence promptly after.

You’ve been faced by its back this entire time, but what happens next almost completely knocks you off your feet.

Its head snaps at a harsh angle, the left - almost a little too much to be human, but you dismiss that thought readily, sobered by the sound of the voice once more. Since you’ve gotten closer and have been taking small steps towards it subconsciously, you’re able to make out what it (he?) is saying.

“Dagnabbit! Hey, ya hear me? I know someone’s back there!” an exhausted huff followed by more futile struggling, “Y’know how fudgin’ rude it is to ignore yer fellow neighbor?”

Oh shit. Oh shit!

Without thinking, you drop everything - everything just so happening to encompass the pumpkin. It falls to the ground in slow motion, pretty much, and you barely hear the resulting Thonk! of it crashing to the ground and splattering all over your work duds, the bottom caving in despite how robust the thing was.

Your thoughts are a mess. Someone must have stolen your property, tied an unsuspecting man to the barren scarecrow post after, and then left him there as a cruel prank! Yeah, that makes way more sense. Did he just call you ‘neighbor’? People around these parts are familiar, but not that familiar; is it possible that this guy also lives down the road, but you’ve never bothered to introduce yourself? Is this his first impression of you?!

Swallowing, you dig your nails into your fists and pull yourself together. There’s never been a contingency plan put into place for a situation like this, but you’ll handle it somehow. You take one tentative step forward before launching into a sprint, almost slipping on the gooey innards of the pumpkin coating the ground, but you narrowly avoid it. You hop the fence with ease, landing in the wheat field with a thud.

“I’m comin’!” you yell, cupping one hand over the curve of your mouth, frantically surveying the area for a certain object. The man is about the same size as your (likely stolen) scarecrow, and with the force of his thrashing, whatever’s holding him there must be tough as nails. Thankfully, you find what you’re looking for - a hatchet.

Old Blade, Kafka’s friend, left it here a week ago. You asked her if she knew anybody that’d chop wood for cheap; you’ve been busy with other chores - and to be honest, lazy - so you were hoping to get someone else to do it. There were a few dead trees skirting the edge of your property, and firewood is always good to have, but you didn’t expect her to volunteer her pal’s services so readily.

Blade showed up with nothing more than a hatchet and a haunted expression that hinted at some clusterfuck of a story. Still, he was polite enough, drank your freshly squeezed lemonade, and cut down those trees faster than some kid with a chainsaw could. After he wrapped up, he left the miniature axe here. You’ve been putting off returning it for days.

Thank the stars you’re a procrastinator, you think, yanking it off the ground and testing its weight, already moving towards the flailing man again. You’ve got your own collection of tools in the shed, but making him wait any longer isn’t gonna help your case - he has half a mind to report you to the cops as an accomplice!

Finally, you reach him. The mysterious fella is donning the same thrown-together attire of the scarecrow, namely one of Pa’s old flannels and some spare trousers you found laying around weeks prior. Had the perpetrator of this crime really dressed him in these clothes?! He’s even wearing the same rustic cowboy hat, complete with a browning, frayed feather sticking out of its cap.

You round the post with a frenzied pulse, raising the blade in the air with a shaky grip on its handle, ready to cut him down from there--

“Whoa, whoa there!” he stammers frightfully as you tilt your chin up to get a better look at his face, “T-That’s a little unnecessary, don’tcha think?”

You freeze.

The man peers at you through a mane of black and white hair, facial features somewhat… faded? They look to be almost stitched on, lips and bulbous jaw littered with threadbare fuzz, his skin the same shade as a potato sack. Where his eyes are supposed to be, there are instead two X’s, accompanied by a scrawled-on fang hanging just below his mouth in toothy decoration. 

In other words: he looks exactly like the scarecrow you put up all that time ago. 

Before he speaks again, you spare a measured glance at his stretched out arms - the ones still bound to the post. They’re the same arms you remember attaching to the wooden stake, finding it weird that they were so human-like - the appendages even gave way to makeshift hands and fingers. You were surprised that the scarecrow was so detailed for its price, but you didn’t give it much thought beyond that. A steal is a steal.

But now? It’s come to life, and it’s talking to you!

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” you pale. 

He, no, it - tilts its head at you, hat sliding down just a smidge. “I’m not kiddin’. I’m Boothill.”

You don’t think twice before twirling the hatchet around and driving the blunt end of the handle straight into its too-large noggin.

It takes a moment to realize that you’re screaming, and that the… the fucking scarecrow has gone still. Can you even knock sentient dummies stuffed with straw unconscious? Are you hallucinating? Have you lost all of your marbles, slipped on them, and then fallen into a feverish coma? Is this a night terror? You have been drinking too much of that damn coffee--

Your chest heaves as you take a gigantic, gulping breath.

…then you drop your weapon, curse the heavens for ruining your perfect autumn morning, and then you scream some more.

So, things have not been going well.

Your autumn morning has turned into autumn afternoon, and your kitchen floor practically has a hole seared into it from your nonstop, neurotic pacing. It’s soothing - the only thing keeping your shot nerves at bay. Your feet ache, heeled boots grazing the raised surface of the brick over and over.

Think, think, think.

Well, that’s kinda hard to do when you had to bring him inside.

You stop in your tracks to stare at this ‘Boothill’. After he’d gone limp (and you assume comatose), you’d panicked for a little, thinking that you’d committed murder - before remembering that he is a scarecrow and that you have no qualms with ending a life anyway. Oops. You’d cut him down like you’d planned to, dragged him inside, and… sat him at your dining table.

When you freed him of his bindings, you were reminded of how light he was; despite seemingly gaining consciousness out of nowhere, he is still a scarecrow - traditionally composed of hay, leaves, rags, hell, whatever you can find. His breadth didn’t exactly make it effortless, but you hauled him to the house, up onto the porch, and right past the beaten up welcome mat. The manners ingrained in your mind from an early age stuck with you, so you welcomed the ‘guest’ to sit at the table.

But he - this thing - is not welcome! 

Boothill hasn’t, um… woken up yet. It’s been about three hours of playing the waiting game, and you don’t even know what you’re going to do when he does start to stir.

You’re not gonna call the authorities, that’s for sure; everyone in town except for a scant few already believe you to be off your rocker. Even if you did call them and they showed, what kind of media attention would follow? Paranormal investigators? Scientists? People with cameras and news trucks that’ll camp just outside your acre of land, trying to pester you with their questions? Absolutely not.

Deflating, you know what you have to do.

Would burying an inanimate object alive even work? Can you even use the symptom ‘alive’ to describe what’s going on with him? I mean, you could try putting him in the ground anyway. Your good shovel’s in the shed, and--

…and he really does look like a man from a distance. Boothill, a fitting name, if that’s what truly he calls himself, is keeled over the wood. He’s limp, but you suppose having no internal structural support will do that to you. Such an intricate, intentional design. It’s been a while since anyone’s visited, really, and a part of you maybe feels bad for whacking him earlier. 

God, is this what you’ve become? Soft?

Apparently so, because you don’t retrieve your trusty shovel just yet. Instead, you trudge over to your wall-mounted landline that you pray will pull through one more call. It was pristine white years ago, but now it’s yellowed and considered too ‘old school’ by the kids of today. Not like that hurts or anything. Definitely not.

You punch in the familiar number, gaze drifting back to Boothill. If he gets up, will he try to murder you? That remains to be seen, you suppose. He seemed pretty animated (if not a bit smart-mouthed) before you decided to temporarily ice him. Listening to the crackling static of the line ringing, you hold your breath and pray.

Pick up, pick up, pick up--

A juvenile, annoyed voice finally answers. “Hello? Geez, why are you calling us on this thing again?”

“Silver Wolf,” you sigh, relieved. “Is Kafka home? Can you put her on? And I told you, it’s ‘cause I don’t have her cell number. You can give it to me again later.”

You’re honestly surprised that anybody is home at all. That family of sorts (which sometimes includes that Old Blade) is on the road traveling most of the year. The house you’re calling right now is just one of their many vacation homes around the world, left vacant for several months out of the year. But then again, maybe it’s not all that surprising… they’re usually home for Halloween. Usually.

You can almost hear her wrinkled nose and sour face. “You sound sweaty. But yeah, she just got back from shopping. I’ll get her, one sec.”

Kids these days never mince their words, huh.

The familiar muffled shouting and shuffling of her passing the phone to someone reaches your ears. You tap your foot, attempting to gather your thoughts. How are you going to explain this without sounding crazy? You come up blank, twirling the wire cord idly with your index finger.

“Hey,” Kafka greets, dulcet as usual, “something the matter over there? You never call this early.”

Ugh, if she only knew the half of it. You swallow, uncharacteristically anxious.

“Hypothetically, if one of your scarecrows came to life, what would you do?”

Silence. Actual tumble-weed blowing, deserted ghost town silence. Does she know? She has to know, right? You’ve never been particularly good at hiding things, and you swear that woman can read anybody like an open book, even if their pages are clumped together with superglue. The longer no one speaks, the worse you feel.

Finally, Kafka gives her verdict. “Hm. If it were me, I’d try to have a conversation with it.”

“You’d do what with it?” you ask, incredulous.

She chuckles, the noise broken up by the poor connection. Despite how she always catches you off guard, you certainly didn’t expect an answer like that. If anything, you expected her to encourage you to torch the thing and not look back - by the same token, she isn’t outright dismissing your ridiculous notion either.

“It’s not everyday you get to talk with a living scarecrow,” she hums. “I wonder what stories they’d have to share. Maybe we’d even become good friends, you never know. Does that answer your little riddle?”

Well, you tried.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry for springing that on you,” your grip tightens on the receiver. “Tell sweet Mx. Firefly I said hello, ‘kay?”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Before you can start the ‘I’ll let you go’ formalities, you hear rustling. Your head snaps back up from the floor that you took an acute interest in staring at, panicked. Boothill is moving - well, trying to, by the looks of it. He sluggishly picks his head up, and you’re met with that stitched expression once more. How can he see? Should you even question it at this point?

You hang up hastily, nearly cracking the artifact of a landline in the process.

“Uh,” you stand there, dumb. “Does your head hurt?”

Right after the words leave your mouth, the regret and embarrassment settle in nicely. Of course it doesn’t hurt! He probably can’t even feel pain--

Boothill then suddenly springs out of his seat, making your hackles raise on instinct. You don’t know what he’s trying to pull, so you stiffen. 

“Nope, I’m right as rain,” he says, stretching his arms above his head, like he’s emulating an aerobics instructor. There are no sounds of joints popping from prolonged slumber, reminding you that he’s still entirely inhuman. 

He continues, oblivious to your plight. “You scared the fudge outta me with that hatchet, though. I reckon you thought I meant you harm?” A pause. “S’nice in here. You got AC?”

He surveys your kitchen, curious and looming. Something about it rubs you the wrong way - he’s acting so familiar despite you 1) knocking him out (debatable), and 2) not knowing you at all. Well, he certainly fits in around these parts. Clearing your throat and watching him with narrowed eyes, you formulate a response and motion with your hand for him to sit again.

“Just…” you pinch the bridge of your nose and walk over to the opposite side of the table, never turning your back to him completely. “Sit down. Don’t try anything.”

Boothill complies with a halfhearted shrug. You follow suit, now staring him down at the opposite end. How do you start, and with what? You’ve never been great at talking to people, not that it bothers you.

Well, he’s not really a person, so maybe it’ll work out in your favor.

“What are you? Do you remember how you got here?”

Good enough; the former’s answer will determine how self-aware (and by extension, dangerous) he is, while the latter’s might give you the slightest context on his supernatural circumstances. Baby steps, you remind yourself. Baby steps. You and him seem to be tackling this in stride. Good - the sooner you have this conversation, the sooner you can put this all behind you.

“Ah, well…” he scratches his head with a moth-eaten fingertip, “I can’t say I remember much. Also, I’m gonna choose to overlook that first question! I’m Boothill, and those birds were peckin’ the crap outta me. I woke up at sunrise, very confused, might I add - can’t say I’ve ever been on this farm before.”

You sigh. He isn’t gonna give you any clues whatsoever, huh. “Okay, well--” Boothill cuts you off, “Well is right. Not so fast, now. I haven’t even got your name yet! Someone who’ll run an axe through ya without hesitation must be of a different caliber for sure.”

Is that… admiration coloring his tone? Even though his disposition practically screams it in your face, he’s definitely a weird one. You spit out your name, hurrying through the introduction in favor of processing this information.

He’s articulate, and you don’t mean just verbally; he idles like a 1930s toon, bouncing and animated, brimming with life. He’s more of a mannequin than a scarecrow, as if made for the sole purpose of waking up all antsy and making it your problem. With all this in mind, you blurt out your first immediate thought:

“You need to leave.”

You don’t need this burden sitting across from you, so you tell him as much; some people would see that as cruel, but it’s more fair if anything. You have your small, tight-knit group of friends that you talk to sporadically, and you have your farm. That’s it.

Boothill deflates, bravado waning when you turn the tides. “Leave? Bud, where else would I go?”

…that’s true. He has nowhere to go, no memories, no social or life skills (probably), and you doubt anyone else will have a kinder reaction than you unless they’re plain stupid. You want to tell him to get lost in that same tone you use when someone encroaches too far on your lifestyle - it works wonders. If you get loud and unpleasant enough, it’ll send him packing, you’re sure of it.

So why aren’t you getting started? Why can’t you tell this too-human-non-human to just scat already?

“I got nobody,” he hums, all too casual for the implications of those words. “Unless you count those crows that seemed more interested in havin’ me for lunch.”

He has nobody. 

This guy you barely know whatsoever doesn’t have a Kafka or a Silver Wolf. He doesn’t have any memories of makeshift tire swings and underage driving; he doesn’t have any souvenirs of late parents and old flames. He doesn’t have anything. The world is bound to chew him up and spit him out (if he even gets that chance).

Boothill reclines against the dark wood of his seat rest, as if permanently cementing his spot there. His features are a bit hard to read, but the material of his face crinkles, at odds with the strain of his smile. 

Damn this stupid, traitorous heart of yours.

“Boothill,” you hate how your house voice softens, “Can you work? If you’re going to… remain here, only for the time being, you’re gonna have to pull your weight.”

He laughs again, this time much more human. If you cared more, you’d call him out on his palpable relief.

“Guess I’ll learn, huh?” he flicks the brim of his hat. Then, surprising you once more, he hunches over, stomach pressed flush against the table.

“What--”

Boothill uses this new position as leverage to outstretch his arm to you, and by extension, his hand. His open palm, also inlaid with crude stitching, barely reaches your wary form. 

Swallowing your hesitance, you don’t leave him hanging too long. You wrap your hand around his own, fiber of his beaten up flannel (or maybe that’s just him) tickling your skin. He’s warm. 

Boothill shakes your hand firmly.

“Thank ya kindly.”

You pull away first as he returns to taking up his own space. God, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Just… whatever.”

As late afternoon arrives, you go about stress-cooking up a big meal to get your mind off of your neglected chores and this entire nightmare at hand. It’s extremely hard to ignore Boothill, though, especially when he can be compared to a lost puppy in terms of his curiosity.

(He also tries to sample some of your cooking. It does not work, on account of him not having a tongue. Or real teeth. Or a stomach. Or a digestive tract.)

It’s going to be a bumpy road ahead. You sigh.

[freenos]

Ok maybe I do have more thoughts on the Medea interactions and how they reflect on Melinoe:

I’ve noticed that the discussion around Melinoe’s morality tends to focus on her proximity to the Olympians but I think there’s also something to be said about the moral grey area that witches fall under. She didn’t grow up in the House of Hades or Olympus, she grew up in the Crossroads and her perspective is influenced by the guidance of witches. And while Circe and Hecate are a little coy about their misdeeds, Medea stands out as the one who really owns the darker aspects of her craft and talks about the suffering she inflicts with pride. In contrast, Melinoe is…not pure but very invested in the idea of doing the right thing and being in the right. So there’s this contrast between them, Melinoe clings to moral justification for her task while Medea isn’t held back by moral dilemmas.

And I think part of that is because Medea pursues her craft to satisfy her own vengeful desires while Melinoe hasn’t gotten to fully explore her identity as a witch yet: They both use their craft in vengeful ways but Melinoe always has this degree of separation from the root conflict. (Nemesis gets at this idea quite a lot actually.) The titans are retaliating for things her family did long before she was born, yet Melinoe is tasked with cleaning up the mess. And when she does take time to herself, she often feels guilty about it. In contrast, Medea gets the satisfaction of personal revenge and is content to use her curses on anyone who gets on her bad side.

It’s that intent that differentiates Medea from Melinoe, I think. No matter how impressive her feats, Melinoe is ultimately a weapon wielded by someone else and lacks pure intent of her own so she often hints at feeling…morally conflicted when talking to Medea. While Medea draws her power from the “blackest of intent” , it seems like Melinoe is forcing a tough exterior, filling a role that doesn’t always come naturally to her. And she wants to know how Medea manages to pull it off so seamlessly. Medea’s “with practice!” line is funny but also, if Melinoe is going to eventually become the goddess of nightmares, maybe she will get there with practice…

I have a suspicion that her arc won’t be about “becoming the nicest person and making everyone proud” but instead, channeling her craft to achieve her own goals without seeking the approval of a higher authority or abiding by someone else's vision of the future. Not perfectly restoring the Age of Gods or the Golden Age of mortals but instead bringing about a different future. She may end up letting her compassion guide her but Prometheus doesn't call her an agent of good or evil, he calls her an agent of change. And it seems like witches in this game are portrayed as catalysts for transformation.

As her understanding of the world grows and shifts, I think it’s interesting that Medea is one of the people Melinoe looks up to and confides in. She asks Medea these very earnest questions about mortals and gods and Medea grants her a joyfully bleak perspective every time:

Medea also has this consistent tendency to disregard mortal suffering, to compare them to livestock and talk about them in terms of how poison-susceptible they are. I get the sense that Melinoe's perception of mortal weakness is influenced by these kinds of conversations:

Melinoe's understanding of the world is shaped by an interesting range of perspectives and is somewhat...shaky and incomplete for now. I think she isn't quite sure how to reconcile her more compassionate impulses and the responsibility that she's dedicated her life to:

Although she adheres to a very black-and-white set of beliefs for the sake of completing her task, there's also hints of uncertainty in her conversations, especially with Medea, a more experienced and self-assured witch. I think Melinoe's character development has the potential to go in a lot of interesting directions!

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.8

Enjoy, touch angsty. I'm also opening up to requests for drabbles/headcanons of moments pre-show/outside show canon for this pairing because quite frankly i'm obsessed with them (and Ian Bohen i'm in love with that man).

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1483

Previous part - Next part

---

Y/n exited the house with coffee in hand to see the small army John had amassed to deal with the cattle.  From the porch steps, she watched as who she assumed was a new hand talked to Rip who clearly didn’t think much of him.  Poor lad clearly didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to be doing on a ranch.  Y/n decided he was going to need her help to survive at the Yellowstone.

John approached her, “you’re gonna go with Rip up the mountain.”

“The fuck I am.  I’m going to the reservation,” she argued.

He shook his head, “I’m not about to let you be that close to it all y/n.  This is the compromise.  You help with the river or you stay here.  This is one thing that isn’t up for discussion.”

“Fine.”

She turned on her heel to one of the horse trailers where she took the rope of a horse from Colby to load up.  As she turned to leave, she was faced by Ryan who had bought his horse on.  Y/n let out a deep sigh upon seeing him, the reality of the potential danger to them in front of her in the form of his ‘livestock agent’ vest.  

Y/n leant against the metal, “I fuckin’ hate this Ry.”

“I know you do sweetheart,” he whispered.

They spent a quiet moment just existing in each others’ presence.  Ryan wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her body against hers and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head.  Y/n allowed herself to melt into his chest, and inhale the smell of his cologne mixed in with that of the horses surrounding them. 

“You gotta promise to be fuckin’ careful out there.  I need you to come back to me when today is done,” she said.

Ryan nodded, “I promise to be careful, sweetheart.  You’re all the motivation I need to be safe.”

“I love you,” y/n whispered into the trailer.

Before he got a chance to reply, Lee interrupted them, “come on lovebirds we’ve got cattle to take back and a mountain to blow up.”

“You’ve got shit timing,” she whisper-shouted at her brother as they left, “we were having a moment.”

Lee laughed, “life is full of moments y/n, if you spend too long in one another will pass you by.”

Y/n walked past the line of trucks the hands were climbing into and headed towards where Rip had Comanche waiting for her.  She took her horse and gracefully swung up into the saddle, settling in for the long ride ahead of them.  They started off down the drive and y/n observed how uncomfortable the new hand looked on his horse.  Yeah he was gonna need all the help she could give him.  The convoy departed past them and y/n waved to her brothers in the first truck.  As the last truck drove past, Ryan looked out the window to see her blow him a kiss to which he smiled back.

-/-/-

Half an hour into their trek, y/n felt like the nerves were going to eat her alive.  Rip was leading them up the trail with no indication he wanted to talk and the hand looked far too scared to say anything so she took it upon herself to fill the silence.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asked.

The hand startled at her voice, “uh it’s Jimmy.”

“Nice to meet you Jimmy.  I’m y/n and I reckon you’re gonna need my help here,” she explained, “Rip’s a stubborn son of a bitch who thinks affection’ll kill ya and most of the others stopped maturing when they were 10 so I’m your best chance.”

“Thanks I guess?” He wasn’t sure what to make of the girl behind him.

Rip stopped her from rambling on, “what she’s conveniently missing out of her introduction is that she’s a Dutton so you’d do well to keep away from her.”

“Call off the threats Rip I know you won’t do anything to him,” y/n countered, “guy that uncomfortable on a horse didn’t apply for the job.”

Jimmy turned red at her statement, “listen I ain’t proud of what I done but-”

“Relax I don’t care what you did nor do I care to understand the decisions my father makes.  I’m just here to cowboy and ensure the place doesn’t go to shit before I get a chance to inherit it,” she explained.

Silence elapsed around the group and Rip took the opportunity to check on the youngest Dutton.  He turned around to see that she was clearly off in her own world, reins loose allowing Comanche to just follow the horse in front of him.  Her fingers were tapping out a rhythm on her saddle’s horn and Rip got the feeling her leg would be bouncing if she had her feet on the ground.

When they reached the top of the mountain they got to work setting up the charges to change the course of the river and fuck over the development next door.  Rip headed over to where Lucy was busy connecting up the wires.

“They’re gonna be safe y’know,” he stated, “on both sides of the fence.”

Jimmy looked up from the river, “is this legal?”

“You’re a criminal, what do you care?” Rip questioned.

The hand sighed, “thought the Yellowstone was gonna keep me out of trouble.”

“Getting in trouble’s the only skill you got,” Rip pointed out.

Y/n added, “difference is now you ain’t gonna get caught.”

Once everything had been set, they mounted up and headed back down the mountain.  This time y/n took the lead in an attempt to keep her mind off what would be going down on the reservation at that time.  

-/-/-

Nobody on the ranch had slept since they had returned from the reservation without Lee.  Her father had turned the house into some sort of command centre trying to locate her brother and y/n was sat on the porch steps watching the commotion having lost count of the amount of coffee she’d drank since coming back.  John and Jamie were talking around her but the words weren’t sinking into her brain.  Suddenly her father took off from the house.  Y/n shot up from the step and followed Jamie’s line of sight to where Kayce was walking Lee’s horse towards the ranch with a body slung in front of the saddle.

She gasped and felt the fear that had been keeping her going leave her body.  Her legs buckled, falling to her knees next the steps.  Jamie rushed to wrap his arms around his sister, letting her cry into his chest.  They waited in silence for Kayce to dismount the horse before Jamie let go of her to launch herself into her twin’s arms.  Y/n kept herself attached at the hip with Kayce whilst Jamie tried to get out of him what had happened but he wasn’t willing to give up any information.

At some point sat on the sofa she finally spoke, “someone needs to call Monica.”

“I’ll take Kayce back in the helicopter now.  No use rehashing this on no sleep,” John explained, “stop running on coffee and sleep.”

After the helicopter had departed, y/n made her way down the drive towards the bunkhouse.  The door banged open and the hands looked up.  The place was quiet, there was no insults being thrown around, and they were all there which was unusual for that time of day meaning Rip had given them the day off.  Ryan and Colby were on one of the sofas half-heartedly playing solitaire and Lloyd was sat reading at the table.  

Wordlessly, Ryan put down his cards and opened his arms for his girlfriend.  She made a beeline for him before burying herself in the hoodie he was wearing.  He wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing her hair safely.  

“I love you,” Ryan whispered to her.

None of the hands made comment about the situation and Lucy fell asleep like that with tears drying on her cheeks.

-/-/-

After the funeral, y/n split from the rest of the group heading to the main house and instead made her way down to the barn in need of some emotional support from Comanche.  She found her father in one of the stalls with the stallion Kayce had been working with.

“What’s he doing here?” She asked.

John looked up at her, “think it’s your brother’s way of apologising.”

“How did it all go so wrong dad?” Y/n pondered.

He sighed, “I have no idea but this isn’t the end of it.”

“I’m still not being part of some fucked up power game dad and you don’t get to use me in some twisted politics but whatever it takes to get justice for Lee I’m onboard with,” she explained, “when we’ve got that we’ll talk again.”

John smiled at his daughter, “that’s good enough for me.”

[phatcatphergus]

Okay so loving the idea that the town of fobo is just ever so slightly off.

It seems fairly normal on the surface, and the residents are nice enough, but the stench of blood seems to follow them around. There are one too many bones laying around to not raise eyebrows. The resident’s “tie-dye” shirts look too dark to be regular red dye. They have carnivorous livestock and ride horses faster then humans can comprehend.

People go missing if the loiter on the area, and one too many fed agents have come back terrified of birds. The residents greet you with a smile full of slightly too many teeth and a glint in their eye.

The town is empty, and your footsteps echo when you walk. The residents hear you from a mile away and will always be the first to greet you, whether or not you get a send off party is hard to tell.

Their hats and boots are leather, but they laugh off any comment about what kind. They use bones for decoration and blood as paint. They their enemies and kill for their friends. They’re fast, they’re smart, and they’re dangerous. Theyre fobo, and they’re just a bit off.

[bullet-prooflove]

I don’t want to talk, for now just kiss me, take me to bed

For Lee Dutton

Tagging: @kmc1989 @yousigned-upforthiss @foxfabled @trublu2u @worlds-tallest-fairy

Companion piece to:

1993 - You read out a letter to Lee over the phone.

A Boy from Bozeman - Lee says goodbye to the woman he loves.

The Worry Doll - Lee still keeps the worry doll you gave him.

Wild Fire - Lee tells you the truth about the wildfire.

Experiance (NSFW) - Lee's gained some experiance since the last time the two of you were together.

Blind Date - John puts the word out around town that Lee needs a wife.

Fire Wood - Lee always chops firewood when he's pissed.

Wedding Bells - You and Lee tie the knot in secret.

Until Your Dying Day - You make a promise to Lee.

Duty - Dutton men don’t marry for love.

Never Again - You promise Lee that John won't come between the two of you.

Lee doesn’t want to talk about his father, he doesn’t want to talk about the annulment that’s now sitting on your kitchen table, the fact he found you crying because that man just had to stick the knife in and twist.

“Promise me you won’t sign it.” He had begged you when he’d read the letter that accompanied it. “Anna-May please....”

“You know what happens if I don’t.” You’d said quietly, your knuckles turning white as you gripped that pen.

Complete disownment.

From the family, from the ranch, from his job as a livestock agent.

If he stays married to you Lee’s life as he knows it is over.

“I don’t care.” He says, cradling your face between his hands. “I don’t care, I don’t fucking care. He does not get to do this to us again…”

“Lee…” You say softly as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. “I cannot be the reason you lose everything.”

“If you do this, I really will have lost everything.” He whispers, his voice agonised. “The sun doesn’t shine without you Anna-May, it never has.”

It turns into a fight, one that goes around and around and around until Lee can’t think straight because he’s overwhelmed by the turn of events by the choice you’re being forced to make.

“I can’t talk about this anymore.” He says finally because he’s too exhausted to argue with you. “I’m going to bed.”

You don’t follow him, you just sit at that damn table, your pen tapping against the surface.

Lee doesn’t sleep, instead he draws up the sheets around him the same way he did when he was a child, when he faced with his own impossible decision.

It’s an hour later you come to bed. He keeps his back to you, his eyes closed as he listens to you undress in the dark. If he pretends he’s asleep then he’s delaying the inevitable, he doesn’t have to hear you tell him that it’s over.

He hears you sigh as you lean back against the headboard, your fingers carding lightly through his hair.

“I can’t do it.” You say into the darkness. “I just can’t let you go.”

Love Lee? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[anabdaniels]

A cozy little life

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader

Summary: You're enjoying your housewife life and your happiness makes Jack happy too.

Word counting: 920

Rating: General audiences

Warnings: Domestic bliss, domestic fluff, reader is enjoying her domestic life, Jack being the amazing husband we know he is.

A/N: I had a little epiphany while baking a cake, so here we are.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Even though most times you didn’t see anything spectacular about your cooking experiments, that time you were slightly proud of the results. As if the incredible smell of freshly baked cake wasn’t enough, you had successfully unmolded the cake without the caramel remaining glued on the mold.

If a year ago you were told that you would be that happy about a cake with caramelized bananas on top of it, you would have been in total disbelief. Still, on that afternoon, seeing yourself so excited about choosing the right temperature of the oven, so the cake could bake properly without the bananas and caramel at the bottom of the mold getting burned during the process, you couldn’t help but laugh at how much life can change on the space of a year.

Your old corporate job used to be pretty okay and you had no intention to quit after marrying Jack, until your previous boss retired from work and her son assumed the management and converted the work environment to the worst possible: work overload, accumulation of functions, work at weekends and holidays every time it was possible. Every day you went home frustrated, mad, or upset, Jack was always the most comprehensible someone could, comforting and taking care of you while you vented about everything until the day you came back home crying and shaking at the edge of a burnout.

“Sugar, you’re quitting that job.” Jack spoke firmly after pondering everything you told him.

“What? No, I can’t simply quit.” You said with your voice still husky from the time crying.

“Oh no? And may I know why?” Jack raised his eyebrows with both hands lying on his hips.

“I haven’t planned it; my finances are quite messed up at the moment and…”

“Honey, stop.” He sighed frustrated and approached you, resting his hands on your upper arms “I thought I’ve made it clear to you that money ain’t a problem here and that you’re more than welcome to rely on my finances that, by the way, are half yours since we got married. We have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of our lives, you don’t even have to work. I got it if you want to do it, but I’ll not let you do it at the price of your sanity”

You planned to get a new job as fast as possible when you quit, but then you decided to get some rest before start working again. After a few days, you started to feel like you were wasting time, and then you decided to test some of the hundreds of recipes you had saved and never had the chance to do. When the first couple of months passed, you realized you were concerningly happy with your new lifestyle. After six months you just accepted that you were happier than ever daily trying new recipes and doing flower arrangements around the house, even having to remind Jack to take off his muddy boots for the 100th time wasn’t a bothering task anymore.

Jack would never say it out loud, fearing to sound like those weirdos a lot of ladies complained about, but he loved to have you home full-time, knowing that, no matter what hour he came back home, he would find you there in one of those gracious dresses you wore daily and no longer struggling to keep your peace of mind as it used to be when you had your corporative job.

That afternoon wasn’t any different, after a long workday with the livestock, Jack came back home, almost entering home with his dirty boots, but stopping the moment he saw the freshly mopped floor shining like glass. He knew moping it again would solve any footprints left, but Jack would never have the nerve to ruin something you had done, so he was more than happy to let his muddy boots rest next to the door as he entered home. Based on that sweet smell of something recently taken out of the oven, Jack followed to the kitchen, smiling widely when he found you there, looking like a proud mother while taking a picture of the warm cake in front of you.

Calmly, Jack approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder. You smiled and let yourself relax between his arms, leaning your head back to rest against his chest.

“What’s my pretty wife inventing today?” Jack asked in a warm tone, kissing the top of your head.

“Well, I successfully made a caramelized banana cake, and I’m very proud of it if you ask me.” You answered happily, melting a bit between his arms.

“As you should. Just the smell of it by the door was enough to make me hungry.” He answered sincerely and moved to sit in one of the chairs next to the table, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“I make no compromise about it being eatable, but at least looks good.”

“Y’wouldn’t cook anything bad even if you tried hard, honeybee.” He assured while squeezing you between his arms, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“What’s the matter?” You asked sinking both of your hands on his hair.

“Is invigorating to see you happy, makes me happy either.” Jack admitted sincerely, planting a kiss on your neck “I love you so much, sugar.”

“I love you too, cowboy.” You answered quietly, closing your eyes and resting your head against his, simply enjoying the comfortable embrace of your loving husband.

Tagging: @missladym1981

[annepsilvaauthor]

Begin Again - Lee Dutton

Pairing: Lee Dutton x OC (Natalie WentWorth)

Summary: The life of renowned lawyer Natalie WentWorth was quiet in Boston, but everything changed when she received a call from a former Harvard colleague, Jamie Dutton. After reflecting a lot, Natalie agreed to solve some problems at the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, but she did not imagine that her life would change completely when she arrived in Montana. One of the reasons for this change was Lee Dutton, the eldest son of John Dutton, cowboy and livestock agent, who would represent all the comfort she needed to have in the midst of the chaos of the Dutton family. Natalie could begin again at that ranch.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Fix the law after you break it

A few more kilometers and she would finally arrive in Yellowstone. Her Volvo XC40 exceeded the thousands of miles at a speed fast enough to make a journey of thirty-six hours of travel in less than thirty hours. Yes, she liked speed. It was one of the few things she allowed herself to "lose control". Her life experience and her profession had taught her to take care of her own control. If anyone would lose their mind, it would be the other side and not her.

She looked at the folder on the bank next to her. There was her name engraved on it: Miss Natalie WentWorth. She smiled proudly. She had not chosen the law, the law had chosen her. And her last civil hearing had proved it.

Natalie's thoughts were interrupted when she observed a movement a few kilometers ahead. There were men mounted on horses, armed, wearing bulletproof vests, on one side of the fence, and other men without any armament, but with unfriendly expression were on the other side of the fence. Natalie reduced her speed and a lawyer's sense of curiosity did not allow her to move forward, stopping on the shoulder.

Looking more closely, she realized that the men on the other side of the fence were indeed armed, some police officers and other civilians. She also noticed that there was a huge herd of cows on the side of the fence and she soon considered a problem. Natalie got out of the car and put her high heels on the dirt floor, something she wasn't used to.

"You should move on, ma'am. The thing here will soon be very bad." One of the cowboys warned her by jogging next to her.

"What's going on?" She asked ignoring his request.

"What happens every day here in Yellowstone: big dog fight." The cowboy waved his hat and trotted towards the discussion that was forming.

Natalie noted that the fence was free of barbed wire, so it would not be very difficult for cattle to go from one place to another. However, she doubted that the cowboys of that ranch had left the fence like that, just as it would be almost impossible for the cattle to take a different direction from what they took every day, unless someone attracted them with food. She got closer to the scene and noticed the remains of hay on the other side. Wow, a crime scene right on her first day in Montana.

"Madam, I'll ask you to leave, please." A serious and deep voice echoed behind her and she turned around. One of the men in the bulletproof vest was in front of her and at that distance she could read Livestock Agent on his chest. He carried a powerful rifle between his hands.

"As far as I know, the road is public." She responded without being able to see him right, because the strong light of the sun prevented her.

"This one is not. It belongs to the Reservation."

"Well, then they should take me out of here and not you...agent." Natalie replied pointing to the police and heard a low laugh coming from him. "Besides, I'm much more helpful here."

"I doubt that."

"OK, agent. I can tell what I know to the police officers of the Reservation and so they can win this fight." Natalie crossed the fence and walked a few steps on the pasture, but his voice came up again.

"I could get you out of there with little effort, ma'am!"

"Try it! Let's see what happens to you after that."

Natalie turned her back on the agent and approached the Indians of the Reservation, but seconds later a heated argument began. One of the Indians insulted one of the cowboys and he crossed the fence to attack him, but the Indian quickly knocked him out on the ground. The scene was transformed without Natalie being able to keep up. The police officers lifted their weapons, as well as the cowboys on the other side, but soon the agent came up with the rifle and threatened the Indian with his barrel on his head.

"Whatever happens next happens to you first." The agent threatened in a loud and deep voice.

"Son of a bitch." The Indian released the cowboy under his hands and faced the agent with danger in his eyes.

Tensions were stifled with the arrival of a helicopter on land. Natalie managed to read Yellowstone Dutton Ranch in the helicopter body and smiled playfully. What an unusual way to meet the boss. He got off the vehicle dressed as the good landowner he was, with simple clothes and a hat. The livestock agent went to meet him and exchanged some words that Natalie could not hear due to the distance and noise of the helicopter propellers.

The two men approached the fence and John exchanged glances with Natalie, surprised by her presence there, but he had more urgent matters to deal with than to know why a white woman dressed in a white satin blouse, navy blue pencil skirt and high heels was on the other side of the fence. She soon found out that she was on the wrong side of that fight, so she walked slowly towards the track, and she had difficulty walking due to her high heels sinking into the grass.

"This is a tribal issue, John. Livestock commission's got no authority here." One of the police officers informed John with caution.

"Those look like livestock to me." He pointed to the cattle on the other side of the fence and kept walking.

"The Chief's at Commencement, but I'm calling the shots."

"I'm impressed you said that with a straight face, Ben." John mocked with a smile and continued walking on the tribal ground until he approached a gentleman sitting on the hood of the truck that was among the cattle.

"If you know anything, it's better to say it now. Things won't be more friendly between us and them for much longer." The agent approached Natalie again and she remained looking at John's back, wishing to hear what he said, but it was too far away.

"If I say what I know, I lose the letter in the sleeve I have, don't you think?"

"Look, ma'am, I don't know where you come from, but here in Montana we solve the problems in two ways: either we follow the law, or we break it." The agent responded politely after a brief pause, as if he were thinking about what he should say. She liked it, he didn't want to push her away, he thought she was important enough to try to insist on the subject.

"I come from Boston...and from what I see now, you will need a good lawyer."

"I don't think we'll win this fight through laws, ma'am."

"You really won't go, so you'll need a lawyer: to fix the law after you break it. I have my card in the car, if you want."

The agent smiled openly, showing his white and big teeth. Very perfect for a cowboy and livestock agent, she thought. Either he spent all the money on dental appointments or...

"Lee Dutton." He supported the rifle in one hand and offered her the other. "Can I know your name, Madam from Boston?"

"Natalie WentWorth." She accepted his greeting and had her small hand engulfed by his big hand, tanned and full of calluses in a strong but gentle grip. "Don't worry, I'm on this side of the fence."

He just kept smiling and Natalie could watch him at that moment, since he covered the sunlight from her face. Lee was tall, although any man taller than one meter and seventy was taller than her, he wore a cream hat that covered most of his hair, and he wore a grown beard, blonde, and looked well cared for. And there was that smile that besides being beautiful, was cheerful. How could he be happy in that situation? She didn't know, but she was curious.

"Lee!" John Dutton's voice sounded authoritarian when he crossed the fence. "Clear everyone out."

"You know, there was barbed wire on this fence a week ago." Lee explained to his father.

"I know. Clear them out."

"Alright! Move on!"

While Lee gathered his men, Natalie hurried the step to accompany John Dutton, but her high heels did not help, so she removed them.

"Mr. Dutton! Mr... Dutton!" She called feeling her feet pincing due to the tall grass. After a few seconds, he stopped and waited for her to approach.

"It wasn't a good choice to wear these shoes today, ma'am." John mocked with a smile as he observed the high heels in Natalie's hands.

"I'm a newcomer to Montana, sir. I can get used to it." She put on her shoes and extended a hand to him. "My name is Natalie WentWorth. Your son Jamie told me that you were in need of help."

"All the help I need is in my house, ma'am. I don't need another lawyer." John seriously informed without accepting her hand.

"But I came here from Boston. Jamie told me that..."

"I don't know what Jamie wanted with you, miss, but it certainly has nothing to do with me or my ranch." He stared at her in a mixture of pity and anger. "If you want, we can take you back in the helicopter."

"I've been driving, sir."

"I'm sorry for what Jamie made you go through. I hope you have a good trip back." John put his sunglasses on his face and walked away from her with slow steps towards the helicopter.

Natalie was planted in the same place for so long that the police officers of the reserve had left, as well as the tribals and most of the cowboys. She couldn't believe that. After all the effort to get there, after thinking long before getting close to cowboys again, she was rejected. Natalie didn't know who else she was angry with, if it was Jamie, Mr. Dutton or herself.

"Miss WentWorth, is everything okay?" Lee appeared next to her and she had to control herself so as not to shrook another Dutton next to her.

"It'll be." She started walking again and heard his steps following her. She rolled her eyes and growled softly. "Go back to your work, Mr. Dutton. You're going to need a lot of work."

"What do you mean? Hey, wait!"

Natalie was already used to walking with high heels on the grass and was already approaching her car on the side of the side. However, to her misfortune, one Dutton was determined to leave her away while the other did not leave her alone.

"What did you mean?" He put himself between her and the driver's door.

"I need to go now, Mr. Dutton. Can I get in my own car?" She asked impatiently, but Lee remained in the same place.

"Only answer the question." Lee asked kindly, but Natalie was too angry to notice.

"I am not obliged by law to answer anything. And if you don't get out of the front of my fucking car now, I'll sue you for so many things that you'll never have a penny in your cowboy pants again." She threatened him fervently and Lee took a few seconds thinking to then clear the way. "Thank you, Agent."

"Aren't you going to give me your card?" He asked at the window when she got in the car.

"It will no longer be necessary."

Natalie started the gear and started the car, causing the tire to leave stains on the asphalt.

[thewitcheslibrary]

Beltane

The date of the holiday: 1st may

History: Beltane is derived from the Celtic term Baal or Bel, which meaning "Bright One." As farmers prepared to shift their livestock from winter pastures to summer grazing in the hills, they sought protection and abundance from the gods by starting fires and herding cattle through the flames to the summer grazing fields. This was thought to protect the herd from attack while also increasing fertility.

In more practical terms, these bonfires were most likely used to burn brush heaps and clear space for planting and pastureland. In the home, hearth fires were extinguished and replaced with flames from Beltane bonfires. People often walked the perimeters of their properties or towns to evoke additional protection for the next year. Yellow flowers were used to decorate doorways, windows, and even cattle during Beltane.

Like all of the Wheel of Year sabbat celebrations, Beltane was a time for merry making and feasting.  People would write a wish upon a ribbon and tie it a to a tree, in the hopes that the gods would grant them.  Hawthorn, ash, thorn and sycamore trees were believed to be the best trees for making wishes.   

Dew gathered on Beltane was thought to have special properties for increased beauty and youthfulness. 

Beltane and sexuality- SLIGHT NSFW WARNING!

Part of Celtic Beltane beliefs revolved around the holy union of the God and Goddess, which people celebrated by having sex on Beltane. Usually outside, to further connect with nature. Children conceived at Beltane (and hence born at Imbolc) were regarded to belong to the Goddess, and were commonly referred to as'merry-be-gots', with a particular tie to the faerie world. Beltane, like Samhain, was a period when the curtain between the worlds became thinner, allowing ghosts to pass through. Unlike Samhain, the visiting ghosts were not looking for a feast or a quick chat with relatives. The spirits of Beltane were considered to be seeking reincarnation or sexual intercourse.

The topic of sexuality runs throughout Beltane. The Maypole, which maidens usually adorn and celebrate, is a phallic emblem signifying masculine strength, whereas the cauldron represents female power. Women who desired to produce a child would start a small fire, place the cauldron on it, and then leap over it.

To go Maying, or picking flowers and other flora in adjacent woodlands, was associated with casual sex in the woods. There was no stigma connected with out-of-wedlock marriage, and hand-fasting was prevalent, in which two individuals bonded together for a year and a day. Beltane activities such as the Maypole were forbidden by the Puritans in parts of Great Britain in the 17th century, owing in part to their overt sexuality.

END OF THE NSFW -

Symbols of beltane-

Colors:  White, dark green, red 

Foods:  Dairy foods, honey, oats, mead, lamb  

Stones:  Sapphire, blood stone, emerald, orange carnelian, rose quartz  

Symbols:  Goat, honeybee, cown, fairies, pegasus, rabbits, flower crown, maypole, basket  

Flowers & Plants: Primrose, lilac, hawthorn, birch, Rosemary, Ivy, woodruff, rowan, violet, alfalfa, cedar, peppermint lavendar 

Deities: Aphrodite, Artemis, Freya, Rhiannon, Apollo, Bel/Belnos, The Great Horned God, BÓand/Boann 

Setting intentions during this time-

Beltane has traditionally been a fertility celebration. However, if you don't have infants in mind, that's OK! Beltane is an excellent opportunity to reflect on creativity and success. Beltane is the moment to follow through on your objectives from Imbolc and Ostara. Perhaps you've been thinking about launching a company; Beltane is the time to set an appointment with the bank and inquire about finance. Perhaps you've been writing a book and now it's time to contact publishers or locate an agent. Beltane, with its promise of harvest and fruitfulness, is a time to take inspired action and be confident.

Ways to celebrate-

Chose one of the deities listed above and honour them in some way, yes even if you dont work with them. You can still celebrate them and wear or do things associated with them, just do so respectfully! Eat some of the foods associated with beltane! Even if you just eat a bowl of oats with honey for breakfast, its a good and simple way to celebrate. And its perfect if you can't openly celebrate, it just looks like your enjoying some food. You could also drink peppermint tea!

Wear some of the colours and carry the stones and gems around with you during this day. You can incorporate both colour magic and crystal magic by doing this and is also just easy to hide and do subtly! - everyone wears clothes (hopefully) and you can just say you are collecting rocks and crystals because you find them cool! - Flower crowns can be incorporated into outfits too.

Buy flowers or make a bouquet with the flowers associated with the holiday! They will make your space or altar look colourful, and flowers are pretty. This isnt as easy to hide, but if people do ask you can tell them you just liked them and treated yourself!

Set aside time for some self care - treat yourself to a special meal, music, aromas - whatever make you feel special!- with this you could use the plants, herbs, crystals, candles in the colours associated with them and some drawn symbols and put together a ritual bath! - bit of a clean up after but again its somewhat easy to hide

some less subtle way to celebrate.

Hold a bonfire for family and friends 

Take action on a project you’ve been working on 

Decorate a tree with colorful ribbons that represent your wishes for the coming year 

Make flower crowns 

Walk your property and give thanks and ask for protection in the coming year 

Decorate your home yellow flower wreaths, bouquets or garlands

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 2/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

                “What is your name?”

                “Bradley Bradshaw.”

                Leandro blinks at him and he’s not sure if it’s the name or if they simply sound too similar to one another.

                “Hmm. I will call you Lee… like Leonardo. You like pizza too much. And you are American like turtles…”

                “Do you want me to wear an orange bandana while I’m at it?” Bradley jokes.

                Leandro laughs and pats his face.

                “Silly boy. Leonardo wears blue. Michaelangelo wears orange.”

…            …            …

2016

                Filming has wrapped for the morning and he finally gets to walk around without a crew trailing his every step. They’re still taking shots, but they’re not filming him, which he is supremely grateful for because he wants to go back and actually do some proper shopping, not just the stuff for cooking later, but items he saw in passing and knew he wanted to go back and get. He has time. It’s a proper farmers market, there are even livestock for sale off to the side, although he’s been told that’s not every week, more like once a month. He walks without any direction, there are different avenues set up, some with raw produce, meats, baking, candles, soaps, art works and carved pieces of wood. Another with preserves and pickles, little wafers to the side so people can taste them. He takes his time and tries everything he can, loves places like this, everything so fresh and everyone so friendly. Even if they know who he is.

                He’d never imagined that his life would take this many twists any turns, that he’s now a celebrity chef, one everyone considers self-taught, despite the fact he insists that Leandro and Silvia taught him, along with the whole extended Gallo family and their friends. He’s got fifteen years of experience now, the last seven though being the wildest. He’d been spotted in the background of the show with the British celebrity. Sought out and asked if he’d do a little cooking segment, then they’d found out he could do it in multiple languages. He’d been popular. More popular than anyone had anticipated and then he’d been asked to do a longer running show.

                In amongst it all he’d ended up with an agent and a manager. Leandro and Silvia had sat him down and made him plan things out, made him call Ice and tell him. He still hasn’t spoken to Mav, and he knows he’s maybe being immature and holding a grudge but Mav hasn’t ever reached out himself, or apologized or, even better, explained. So, it is radio silence there and he knows that Ice is likely keeping Mav updated with his goings-on, but he is okay with that as long as Ice doesn’t push him to forgive him.

                He’s stepping back from a stall, thanking them when he bumps into someone, apology already on his lips when the other person is also apologizing.

                “No, my fault. Sorry.”

                “Both our faults then,” the man says, and he’s tilting a cowboy hat back and he’s got a fucking toothpick sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He’s also wearing a sinfully tight white t-shirt and tight jeans, which are either old and worn, or just doing a poor job at containing some very nice-looking thighs. Bradley licks his lips. There are other appetites he hasn’t indulged in a while either.

                “You from around here?”

                “Uh. No. Just here for work…” Bradley says, and he can see the guy trying to place him, figure out why he recognizes him. It’s happening more and more often now, people recognizing him in the street and out of context.

                “What’s your name?”

                “Um. Bradley Bradshaw.”

                He’s waiting for the flare of recognition at the name, but there’s nothing and it’s kind of a relief. He’s not quite that famous, not a household name quite yet although the marketing team are definitely working their hardest. He looks at the guys face again does a double take, there’s something about him though which is casting him back nearly a decade, he looks so familiar and the way he’s smiling…

                “And your name?”

                “Jake. Jake Seresin.”

                That is a hell of a coincidence. For him to also be called Jake. And Texan. He remembers the accent. Bradley imagines him nearly ten years younger, a buzz cut and baby faced…

                “You remind me of someone. You ever been to Italy?”

                It’s Jake’s turn to pull back, eyebrow raised and the toothpick does a little twist in and out of his mouth with his tongue and it’s kind of distracting but there is a slow roaming of his face, like he’s looking at Bradley the same way.

                “Yeah. I have. Why?”

                “2008?”

                Jake is frowning now, clearly trying to remember what year it was, but Bradley is more and more sure the longer he looks his fill. This is his Cinderella… the one he’d always jokingly said had got away even though he hadn’t expected anything else that night.

                “Yeah… my first time there…”

…            …            …

                Jake steps back, raises his hand to cover the bottom half of the other man’s face, because the guy didn’t have a moustache, and there’s only one guy, one man, that could be asking. The night in question is seared in his mind, his first taste of freedom, his first kiss with a guy and also the overwhelming fear of doing anything more than kiss. And apparently, he’s grown a moustache and changed his name. Only one way to find out.

                “Leo?”

                “Yeah. Hi.”

                “Holy shit… Oh. You grew up good.”

                “So did you,” Leo (or is it Bradley?) replies, and his eyes show he’s clearly appreciative of how Jake looks. He’d liked Jake plenty all those years ago too. He also looks good, firm muscle and nice looking forearms and they’re both clearly checking each other out and there’s a little thrill fizzing through him because there isn’t any second-guessing his interest, no fear of getting punched for looking at him the wrong way.

                “This is a coincidence and a half. You here looking for me?” Jake asks, knows it’s unlikely but he’s still going to ask. Like he’s worth being hunted down across the world. Leo-Bradley throws back his head and laughs, looks at him and gives him another once over and Jake tries not to preen too much.

                “No. Not unhappy that I bumped into you though.”

                “Hmm,” Jake hums, lips and teeth continuing to play with the toothpick and Bradley’s eyes track the movement. “Neither am I. Although, can I ask why you’re using a fake name?” Leo-Bradley blinks, maybe confused and Jake isn’t an idiot. “Bradley Bradshaw? Really? Trying to sound more American?”

                “Well, you can call me Leo, but I am American and Bradley Bradshaw is the name on my birth certificate.”

                “No shit. Really?”

                “Yeah. Really.”

                “American. Huh. You had me fooled…” Jake murmurs, because he may have been trying to learn Italian for the last few years because of this man. Maybe.

                “I did live there for nearly a decade if it’s any consolation. Just travel quite a bit now. What are you doing here? Work?”

                “Yeah, my sisters are working me into the ground even though I’m on leave. But it’s nice being out in the wide-open space.”

                “I bet. What are you on leave from?”

                “I’m a naval aviator. What do you do?”

                Leo’s mouth drops open, but Jake has gotten used to telling the difference between someone being impressed and someone just being surprised. Leo is definitely more surprised than impressed though, his head shaking but he’s still standing close enough that Jake can feel the heat of his body.

                “What’s that look for? You got something against naval aviators all of a sudden?”

                The laugh that Leo lets out is pitched a little too high and Jake quirks an eyebrow up.

                “I don’t have a problem with it. I just… Shit. Small world I guess. My dad was a RIO in the Navy.”

                “Yeah? What does he do now?”

                “Uh. He died. When I was a kid.”

                “Oh shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to put my foot in it,” Jake says, pulling a face.

                “It’s okay. You didn’t know. But just a heads up that my mom is dead too, so, maybe don’t ask about her either.”

                “Well. Thanks for the heads up. What is a safe topic of conversation?” Leo smirks and Jake lets out a bright laugh, the message received loud and clear, if the body language wasn’t all telling him the same thing. “So… What do you do for a job then?”

                Leo blinks at him, like he’s not used to such a run of the mill question.

                “I’m a chef.”

                “Cool. Then I look forward to you feeding me…”

                “Oh yeah, I think I can definitely manage that.”

                “Think you can manage a lot more than that.”

                “I’d like to give it a try…”

                “Hmm. Me too.”

THREE

[justsomeantifas]

Nah see I knew something was wrong with tumblr which is why I left for years to work, read history books and raise my kid

Every single time I said something that was wrong but would boost some random political power … that post would blow the fuck up

every time I said something right? no traction. nothing.

Easiest for instance:

I could post something vaguely in favor of livestock that wouldn’t even be correct as I now know after a lot of research and learning and then it would get thousands of notes overnight with 0 tags

I post one thing about a positive to vegetable farms or smthn and it’d get nothing 😭

both would be meme-y, relevant, and about equal tier of content engagement grindy

and both would under normal circumstances only generate about 400 notes at the time when compared to comparable posts

Anyway all this to say there’s a reason “russian agent” posts will circulate hard every election after that hillary one and be rewarded with engagement … because it’s the narrative the website that deleted the fucking ferguson tag and banned many of the popular bloggers who frequently talked about any issues in relation to ferguson wants spread

It’s an easy kill switch to criticism of politicians

and it is very rewarding if you like content engagement to do.

Don’t believe me? Try it yourself. Start posting a bunch about “GO VOTE! AND STOP A RUSSIAN AGENT FROM TELLING YOU NOT TO!” or smthn and tag it with like “Politics, elections, USA, VOTE BLUE” etc. and i bet u it’ll get more notes than your other posts.

[missmarveledsblog]

It's just pretend right ? (Bucky Barnes x Reader ) part 8

Summary : kitty tells everyone what the discovery of her findings were ... while she still processing everything a massage leads to some more revelations only this time it was the good kind while peter finds out it not good idea to spy .

warning : hydra being sick fucks but rest is fluffy and cute not proofread so spelling and grammatical errors maybe ?( soz )

previous part

Information as if nothing could get worse or more bizarre than it already  has the fact she had her birth family and adopted family , crush all in one part of her house something even books or films could conjure and it was her real life and now her discovery of why she was so wanted came just as a cherry on the shit sundae that was just her life .  she watched and waited as they all filtered into the space , her family kept to one side of the house while the avengers worked the other side , leaving meant  danger. Head still reeling and her stomach still twisting and turning at the information learned, knowing this was what they had planned in their sick and twisted heads . she could see tony and bruce looking over the computer , both men looking to her as confirmation  a quick nod . she could see it on his the tinge of green on bruce banners neck creeping up as he shook his head and excused himself from the room completely followed by a roar . 

“ ok that is not good  , what is it “ nat eye looking out the window back at her as wanda’s eyes flashed read and both she loki stood like bristled cats . 

“ somebody spit it out “ steve yelled. 

“ they want her to make more enhanced super soldiers whether its of clone of  variety or the other way “ tony sighed as her eyes closed .

“ other way as in ..” bucky asked. “ no even they can’t be that sick “ he snapped. 

“ super soldier factory “ she waved gesturing to her stomach as they caught on . 

“ slightly glad they ripped ours out now “ . 

“ yeah its great victims of the red room you get your reproduction taken while hydra breed you like livestock, their original plan was to make me a super soldier use the gifts i got for their own gain and now their like those horrible shop channel like wait there more like make some soldiers from scratch , since normal people are more like to die or thats there logic “ she sighed sitting down .  “  like i’m going to make hydra great again or some shit you know i was hoping all i had to do this week was pretend bucky was my boyfriend and now i have to fight for my womb “ she waved her hands . 

“ brock rumlow was head of the programme to um you know “tony winced . 

 “ he’s dead right i mean dead dead?”  she looked around . 

“ i thought bucky was dead dead … but i’m sure rumlow is gone “ steve smiled weakly. “ sorry “ . 

“   we know now and they are planning something big so we need to be step ahead , wanda, loki sniff out shield agent we don’t need any leaks ,  when bruce isn’t shade of broccoli , me and science bro’s will dig til we find out exactly what their plan is and how we can stop it “ she stood hands on her hips and head high .  “ aven…” 

“ avenger assemble “ steve clapped . 

“ couldn’t let me do it just once “ she rolled her eyes . 

“ do we tell your family ? “ clint asked. 

“ nah they know” she shrugged nudging her head to the door as vision opened it only for her sibling to fall into the room . 

“ what do we tell fury “  steve asked. 

“ yeah what do we tell fury” the man he stood . 

“ fine sit down i’ll explain and steve if you interrupt me so help me i will feed you to the pigs” she stood .

“ you don’t have pigs” 

“ i’ll feed you to the hulk “ she  stuck her tongue out.  

What seemed to be new regular sitting in her room as they all took different parts of the house to sleep in some of the team stayed on the jets as she sat at her window looking up at sky  waiting on asteroid of something to hit them would be on par with how things were going when she heard a light tapping on her door turning to see bucky’s head poking in . 

“ am i still staying in here?” he asked sort of nervously . 

“ course unless you don’t wanna with steve and sam here “  her eyes went back out to the window. 

“ nah i think i’m good here “ he walked over putting his hands on her shoulders , movements slow at first feeling the weight of everything she been through held in the muscles of her shoulder before he added pressure head head falling back against his stomach eyes closed and soft sigh coming from her lips . “ feel good” he mused. 

“ if you stop i will honestly kill you “she laughed felling the tension melt away under his fingers ,frankly loving his touch on her skin even it was covered by her clothes  she could still feel his touch in a way . “ so what was it you wanted to talk to me about when you came into the room unknow before i puked everything including my stomach up “ she asked almost a whisper  to wrapped up in his fingers massaging  her worries away .

“ oh we don’t have to talk about it you’ve got a lot on at the moment “ he smiled. 

“ nah come on none of that  unless it bad then i don’t think i could take bad now no pressure except a little more to the left … oh god “ she moaned out making him completely freeze and halt what he was doing , brain short circuiting at such a noise spilling from her lips .   

“ hey why’d you stop “  she was looking up her head still leaning on his stomach , he was still standing trying to think of anything that could kill the heat rising in his vein at the very sound out  that was repeating on loop in his head fueling fantasy at a supersonic speed .  “you ok ? “ her head tilted. 

“  erm yes .. yup yeah” he face scrunched he was definitely channeling some pre serum steve and didn’t help the wide  doe eyes she was giving him . 

“ what is it clearly got you  more awkward then tony when he caught park imitating him with shaving foam” she snorted .  

“ ok i think we need to talk but it ok if you got too much going on i just need to get this out of my system before i explode” he move to other side  of her taking one of the pillows at the window placing it on his lap thinking maybe it looked like he was just nervous.. He was but it wasn’t the only thing he was feeling as he looked around the room til his eyes landed on the door .  “ one second “ he stood almost running to lock it before jogging back putting the pillow back on his lap . 

“ ok take deep breathe whatever it is  doesn’t matter if the world is falling around us   i always wanna know what’s bugging you or on your mind “ she took his metal hand slight thankful it was that hand since the other one was now clammy as hell . 

“ ok maybe my head is still scrambled or some shit but something  i’ve picked on during this time together the closeness and all that which isn’t a bad thing definitely not  actually it good more than good actually … oh fucking hell i don’t even think steve was this bad … am i going crazy to think that closeness was leading to kissing “ he rambled as she dropped his hand  making him think he scared her off , read it all wrong or so far gone in thoughts of her he made it all up . 

“ sorry my hands sweat “ she whispered wiping it before taking his hand again . 

“ it’s my metal hand doll “ he chuckled slight relief he didn’t scare her off .  

“ oh ha yeah erm shit … so god why is this so hard i mean jesus y/n … its not you i mean it could be wishful thinking ,  it could be crazy .. i am crazy about you and have been since i yelled at you that day you know how hard it is to keep yelling at someone when your like damn he’s hot … not the point i’m sorry i must be over thinking or wishful thinking i already said that oh my god if steve was this bad i think we might need to start a club” she  stumbled and copied his rambling as he completely was more in love than he could of been . the woman he’s been undisputedly in love with was crazy about him .  Not taking a chance for anymore interruptions or wasting anymore time he cut her off by pressing his lips to hers completely freezing any thought in her brain . she was stunned thinking maybe it all got too much, her brain finally snapped and here she was in the funny farm conjuring this whole thing up .  hallucinations of a lunatic or not she pulled him closer never wanting to leave the moment ever as she kissed him back .  she wanted to stay like that for rest of her days like the sole taste of bucky barnes could keep her sustained in life   , hating her lungs need for oxygen as she pulled back but the look of pure love in his eyes was something she could make an exception for breaking the kiss . but  as time went by she could feel more eyes on her and she turned to see peter parked looking in her window making her fall back on her ass . 

“ they kissed “ he yelled down only  the window to open and her head to pop out seeing the team and sibling  looking up cheering . 

“ wanda catch peeper parker “ was all she said before she blew the little flames coming out like fireflies and burning  the webs making the young man screech like a little girl as he went down . 

“ my sister just tried to kill spiderman” jack paled. 

“  our sister … peeper parker she is so funny “ yelena snorted patting his back . 

“ go to bed, you perverts!! “ she yelled out before closing the window and pulling the blinds . 

“ so you like me ?” she asked smiling widely . 

“  no i don’t like you doll  i love you “ he chuckled pulling her close . 

“ you scared me there asshole , don't say it like that....lucky i love you too “ she smiled diving on to the man and crashing her lips against his ignoring the cheering still going on .

taglist : @vicmc624 @babble28 @scott-loki-barnes @ozwriterchick

[fallershipping]

CW (Content Warning): Ableism in a fictional setting

Note: I do not like the 'Looker is a Zoroark' headcanon. I actively dislike it. I would like my headcanons to not be associated with something I consider dehumanizing.

There's a specific concept of how Zoroark and Human interactions have been historically negative, and is somewhat similar to the Changeling myth. It's said that the Zorua family will take the form of a mute child or barely parrot human speech in a very uncanny fashion in the case of stronger specimens. This is nothing more than an evolved survival strategy-- Zoroark never predated humans but used to be known as, at BEST, pests that steal food and livestock, and at WORST, wicked monsters that must be exterminated or else a bad omen will set upon the village. It was once superstition that a Zorua or Zoroark disguising as a human was plotting to replace them in the village.

This has, as you can infer, led to horrible treatment of people who were mute or exhibited any sort of traits associated with being Neurodivergent. For what it's worth, this wrongful manner of thinking was culled sometime after the events of Legends Arceus.

However, the side effects are present in modern times, to a lesser extent yet still harming. Comparing one to a Zoroark (or in modern times a Ditto due to its recent appearance) is mostly done out of blind ignorance, but it still carries the implication that the other is not human, exhibiting traits that can only be regarded as a non-human entity.

Nanu once referred to Looker as one for his disguise techniques, not intending to be harmful. Looker's very sour reception to his remark was enough of a message to the older agent to never use that comparison again. The Detective might have lost his memories, but something about that comparison struck a nerve somewhere deeply rooted in childhood.