#the Brave Bull Bar

[remembertheplunge]

[star2fishmeg]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ

Authors Note | Cowboy!Jack headcanons for my Homegrown AU.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who got his nickname ‘The Brave’ from always being the more adventurous of the three. The one jumping straight into opportunities and living life in the moment, making the most of every second, showing no fear in uncertainty which led him to riding bronco/bull riding in rodeos and being exceptional at it too.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who loves sitting around the firepit in the evenings with you, cuddled on one of the benches under a blanket. There’ll be no music, just the crackling of the fire and melodies of the crickets filling the background while you sit on his lap, his arms around your middle and you’re speaking in murmurs. It’s your alone time, your seclusion from the long day you’ve both had where you can indulge in each other’s comfort. He’ll bury his nose in your shoulder, eyelashes fluttering close against your skin and sometimes you’ll feel his lips softly meet your neck. Some nights you’ll make s’mores together and crack open a can or three if he’s starting later the next day.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who pretends to be annoyed when you turn his kitchen into a mini vet clinic, watching you nurse birds and stray cats back to health but ends up helping you anyway. Something about seeing you so gentle and kind when you could have left it to suffer warms his heart, how you give him strict instructions makes his lips tug into a grin and all he can muster out is a ‘Got it, Sugar.’ or ‘Yes, ma’am.’ It makes him wish he could join you tending his ranch’s own animals more.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who never says no when you ask to go out somewhere. Whether it’s watching and cheering for his friends competing at a rodeo, visiting the lake for a swim or to skip stones, heading into a market to grab a few things where he’ll buy you a bouquet of flowers, whatever you want, he’s more than happy to go with you. He’ll have his hand in your back pocket, smile on his face and lets you take as many photos as you like.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who spends his free time at bars with his friends, but loves dancing with you shamelessly. He’ll take you by the hand and twirl you around, dip you and kiss your lips hard. He’ll teach you how to play pool, do that cheeky manoeuvre where he’ll stand behind you, hand on your hip and chest pressed to your back as he mutters the instructions deliberately low in your ear. He’ll place his hand on your waist if he feels another cowboy’s eyes undressing you, he’s never going to find another woman like you, he’ll hold on for as long as you’ll let him.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who buys you pygmy goat to keep you company around the ranch while he’s away and in general as a little friend. Others thought it was weird but ever since you were a kid, all you've wanted was a little pygmy goat trotting around with you. With the way you both look after it, you’d think it was a child. At first, Jack was hesitant to have much involvement but over time he grew fond and worries when it’s not bouncing around his or your feet. 

▸ Cowboy!Jack who delivers eggs to your family for free. He thinks you make the best pancakes and you’re regularly making him breakfast. He knows how many eggs your father and brother get through as well, it’s the least he can do. 

▸ Cowboy!Jack who takes you to the best spots to watch the sunset, grinning the entire drive while refusing to tell you where he’s taking you. He’ll surprise you with picnics, in which he totally didn’t have Ellen help him make, as you talk about your days and fill each other in on any family news. He’ll find little surrounding flowers that remind him of you and tuck them behind your ear, pull you onto his lap plant quick kisses over your neck and cheeks.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who has your initials on his boots. He’s Jack, he has a few pairs of boots so what’s the harm in one pair having your initials on them? He wears them every day, a sentiment of the feeling you’re with him all the time. Of course, he’ll have a photo of you in the brim of his hat but in his boots feels more unique to him. He had them professionally etched in when he bought them, they had to be perfect, they represented you, the woman he loves with his whole soul. It’s special.

▸ Cowboy!Jack who lets you put little braids in his hair when he’s lying on your lap. One of his favourite things is seeing you sat up in bed or on the sofa. To him, it’s an invitation to plonk himself down, head on your thighs so he can watch the TV or take a nap while you thread your fingers through his hair gently, weaving little braids sporadically and he’ll keep them there for the rest of the day, ignoring the witty comments he gets from his brothers or friends. They’ll never know the little tingly sensation that covers his scalp, how his body melts instinctively in your presence. 

▸ Cowboy!Jack who’s a handy man, fixing rooves, fences, anything and everything but ask him to do a simple task like collecting eggs from the coop? Better off doing it yourself, he’ll just forget. He’ll always fix anything for you and expect nothing but a kiss for it, always offering to check your car, your house appliances, your fences, floorboards, anything. If you haven’t seen him all day, there’s a likely chance he’s balanced on a barn roof, either painting or reinforcing the panelling. He prefers doing it all in the summer though, it means he gets a chance to show off and strip from his shirt, jokingly trying to entice you, but you just laugh at him and continue with whatever you were doing. 

▸ Cowboy!Jack who, on the rare occasion where he doesn’t win a rodeo, comes straight to your place for comfort. He has a key to your place, so when you’re in slumber and feel a sudden weight slinging over your waist, breathing on your neck and a chest pressed into your back, you know it’s Jack. You’ll roll over and brush the strands of hair from his face, place soft kisses to his cheeks and lips, letting him hold you close. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he’ll need your praise, and you will tell him the truth, that he is good at what he does, that he shouldn’t give up, that he can’t win everything but most importantly, it’s not the end of the world. His heart will slow and warm again, the urge to sob will dissipate and soon enough he’ll pull you to lay on his chest and run his hands over your waist, shamelessly sliding his hands under your clothes and whisper that he loves you.

nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs @bewaryofpity @wineauntie (To be added to taglists, just comment or ask via ‘pass me the puck!’) [Masterlist] [Requests CLOSED]

Special thanks to @rowdyluv and @bewaryofpity for some of the bullet points.

2025 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

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[searchingforserendipity25]

felix knightly, julian's much-mentioned friend felix, comes to the station, and he's this dashing and effete and supremely successful older human man. he wears excellent fabrics and dedicates his life to constructing beautiful fictions.

he calls julian darling and sweetheart all the time. he speaks often of how they met - something about old hardcover books and competitive bidding in a san francisco auction house for history and literature lovers.

so it went: a long chat that turned to a long night haunting bars, showing this bright young thing the best old spots in the city, where real bands play real songs, history clings to the walls and a holoprogrammer could see nearly into the past, the future, the heart of things.

we walked the bridge with dawn on our shoulders, spent the night without losing reasons to keep talking together, and i knew this was a very special young man i had just befriended, he says.

and julian bashir, chief medical officer, war-tried and brave, looks at him through his lashes, a little bit twenty and awe-struck at being liked still.

felix speaks often about how so much of the reliable realism in his holonovels depends on having his own clever doctor to give him accurate medical information. how his gifts of custom-made programs are nothing, barely anything in comparison to the pleasure of making sweet julian enjoy himself in his intervals between wonderful adventures and admirable medical work.

he is flighty and shameless and self-satisfied and he never fails to make julian flush and brighten - something flickering open around his eyes.

he kisses the back of his hands, and plays with his hair. as if it easy and natural; as if he should be allowed always to lay a hand on julian's shoulder, and smile down at him with a conspiratorial look.

it would be easier, perhaps, if it were more sordid. but they tease each other endlessly, argue like old friends, there is history between them and not only old infatuation.

to watch him is to see an image repeated. there is the twist of the wrist doctor bashir does, the way he raises his chin and picks a glass with elegance and flirts relentlessly, as he himself had been flirted with until he relented.

it is clear enough that knightly has been a guiding figure to him, a teacher in some fashion in the arts of playing the gentleman.

a mildly chiding word from him in a specific tone, and julian straightens his back and pays attentions, rethinks his position, eases back the strain in his shoulders, lets himself be challenged, seduced into a proper debate. so perhaps he was the one who taught him that, too; to argue without spite, with wit, brash but not bull-headed.

it is clear enough julian bashir trusts him fully with his fantasies, and does not fear any mockery.

it is clear he is a weak man, a man of vice, an hedonist with no sense of responsibility, who cannot stand to live outside his programs. he drinks prodigiously and gambles recklessly, enjoys the sort of mind-whirling substances the federation permits only in careful dosages -

he is not the one to mention how it was that a medical student came to be well-versed in treating withdrawals, in dealing with hateful words said in dire states. doctor bashir himself, of course, would never breach patient confidentiality. but one may guess; one may assume.

his presence is temporary, he will go away to do research on another singular and distant place, he'll leave his friend behind for the hundredth time and send back a consolation game whenever he remembers he exists at all.

anyone can see it, in the doctor's eyes. he is has been wounded many times, he has been trained well to be expect to be liked but not wanted long.

in unrelated news, garak of garak's clothiers has had to cite complications to explain the delay of his present and forthcoming commissions. several of his needles and sewing machines have taken unexpected tumbles against the floor, and a remarkable amount of his fabric has appeared shredded to rags, almost as if a vole or beast of some sort had laid furious claws on them.

well, so it goes: life is not an holonovel. in real life, sometimes accidents can't be avoided, and mistakes have consequences.

someone ought to remind felix knightly of that, perhaps.

[desi2go]

Love a cowboy

pairing: cowboy San x reader

warnings: mostly fluff, some slight angst in the end

summery: You moved from the city into the wild west. On a bull riding competition, you meet San, a cowboy, not knowing that in the future you will cross ways with him more often...

author's note: Welcome to my first Ateez fanfic! I hope you'll like it. I loved the idea of cowboy San, especially after their new comeback! Have fun

The sun burned mercilessly over the vast prairie as you made your way through the lively little town of Red Rock. You have been living here for a few weeks now, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city you have left behind. Life in the Wild West was rougher, but also more exciting and filled you with a new kind of freedom.

Today was the day of the annual bull riding competition, an event that the whole town looked forward to. You had heard a lot about the cowboys who would be showing off their skills.

As you entered the dusty grounds of the arena with a friend, you felt the excited tension in the air. The crowd roared as the cowboys took their places. You picked a spot close to the action, eager to see the cowboys in action. Loudly, you cheered for the brave men who tried riding the bulls. Just when another man got buckled off, the speaker announced the next competitor and the people around you went wild.

"Lady and gentlemen, here comes the current favourite San!"

Time seemed to stand still as he stepped onto the arena. San, with broad shoulders and a determined look, seemed completely in his element. He jumped up the fence and swung himself on the angry bull. The fence was opened and bull ran free, trying to get the man off.

The fight between man and beast was intense, and for a moment it seemed as if San would loose balance. But in a wild moment of struggle, his hat flew into the air before finally landing next to you. You grabbed it and freed it from the dust. He still sat on the bull.

She didn't hesitate for long and picked up the dusty cowboy hat. The crowd continued to cheer, but you focused only on San, who was buckled off and rolled over the ground. He slowly stood up and looked over at her. She pushed her way through the crowd to give him back his hat.

When San saw her, a smile flashed through his face. He took the hat, but gently pushed it on her head.

"Keep it," he said with a wink.

"A little luck can't hurt you out here." You blushed and smiled back shyly as you ran a finger over the hat.

He walked away, letting himself enjoy the cheerings.

"Who is he?" You asked your friend who looked at you in disbelief.

"You don't know who that is? He is the best bull rider! He is known for his courage and skill, and the stories of his adventures had already made the rounds." She explained.

"Never heard of him" you responded.

"56,78 seconds! And thus takes the lead!" The speaker shouted through the loudspeaker. Even the following cowboys couldn't over it his time so he won the competition. It was crazy how long he sat on that bull even though it was moving wildly beneath him. You were impressed.

The crowd started to get thinner, everyone observing the stands for something to eat til the next competitions would start. You followed your friend who showed you the best food stand on the whole event and after that the best attractions.

When the sun began to go down, she brought you to a bar after you had confessed you didn't had time to get to the infamous bar. The music could already be heard from miles and the laughter of people. You still wore the cowboy hat even though it was too big, you loved that your face was shielded from the merciless sun all day.

When you enter the saloon, the first thing you notice is the smell: a mixture of smoke, sweat, spilt beer and a hint of perfume. The floor is made of rough wooden planks, worn by constant footsteps and the occasional scrape of boots. The room is dimly lit, mainly by oil lamps and candles, which spread a warm, flickering light. The walls are hung with hunting trophies, old mirrors and sometimes photos of famous cowboys or local events. The centrepiece of the saloon is the long, wooden bar, behind which bottles of various spirits stand on shelves.

The bartender, a middle-aged man with a weather-beaten face and an apron, gave you a friendly smile.Men and sometimes women sit at the tables, which are distributed at irregular intervals around the room, playing cards, drinking or chatting. The atmosphere is lively, accompanied by the clinking of glasses, the laughter of the guests and sometimes the music of a small band.

The bartender greeted your friend, you always were shocked that nearly everyone knew everyone. She ordered a drink for both of you until she dragged you to the small dance floor where some persons were already dancing to the great rhythm.

Slowly sipping on your drink, you danced until your friend tapped you and nodded behind you.

"The sexy cowboy is watching you" she grinned and you followed her gaze. San indeed leaned against the, a beer in his hand, clearly mustering you. You blushed as he came towards you.

"Hello beautiful" he exclaimed over the loud music, wearing just a simple jeans and a black t-shirt that hugs his muscular chest.

"Hello" you answered, blushing slightly.

"I see you like the hat" he stated and a smirk formed on his lips as he brushed a hair strand out of his face.

"Yeah, thank you"

"No need to thank me. It suits you better than me"

You smiled. "You don't live in the city, right? I never saw you before"

"I'm just coming here for the competitions and important errands. My farm is outside of the city"

"That is cool. Even though it must be a little bit lonely, right?"

"Sometimes, but I have the animals and when I want to meet people, I'll come here" he smiled.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Three days later, you were driving to the next biggest city to purchase some errands that you didn't find in the local store. For 30 minutes, you followed the dusty road that was more dirt than road. Around you just the desert and some bushes that fought against the searing heat.

You don't know what you were thinking for doing an one and a half hour trip in the noon with your old car. It was a truck that was perfect for the terrain here. When you moved you had sold your car. Now, you had one that has problems with the air conditioning.

Suddenly, you heard a bang and black smoak rose from the bonnet.

"Shit" you sweared and stopped. Of course you needed to buy the cheapest truck you could find and the car dealer even recommended it! Angry, you placed the cowboy hat on your head to shield you from the merciless sun and got out to take a look at the bonnet.

You opened it and a gush of smoak ascended, leaving you coughing. You leaned further into the bonnet, searching for the problem when you heard some rustling. You thought it was just wind.

"Everything alright?" Someone behind you asked, startled you shrieked, trying to get up but hitting your head on the bonnet over you.

"Ow" you exclaimed and rubbed your head while observing the man. It was San, sitting cool on a horse.

"San. What are you doing here?" You asked, eying him. He looked like a real cowboy in his lumberjack shirt, the dirty jeans and the cowboy hat.

"I could ask you the same" he smirked, letting his gaze roam over your old truck.

"I wanted to go to the next big city" you responded.

"Well, that didn't work out, right?" He stated cocky.

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously" But you couldn't hold in a small smile. He dismounted from the horse and hands the reins over to you.

"What are you doing?" You asked, holding the horse far away from you. Even though you liked animals, horses were a bit scary.

"Let me check if I can fix it" he told you, bending over your car. He sighed after a few minutes.

"I can't fix it here. But we could bring it to my farm." He stated, looking you in the eye. You nodded. "Come on, it isn't wide. We come back with my tractor to tow your car."

"Okay, thanks" you answered, giving him the reins back. He mounted the horse, holding his hand down.

"What are you doing?" You questioned.

"We'll ride. And now come on" you shook your head fast. There was no way you would climb on the horse.

"It's safe. You can hold onto me. And I'm not letting you here alone on the street miles away from anything" he argued. You sighed, guessing you had no other choice.

Hesitant, you took his hand and climbed behind him on the horse who stood there unimpressed. Immediately, you clinged onto him like your dear life depended on it. He let out a laugh. "Relax. Rosie is a good girl" he brushed over the horse's fur.

He carefully pushed the horse into a small walk. It was strange to sit on a horse and you anxiously held onto San.

"You ok there?" He asked, guiding Rosie away from your lame excuse of a car. "Yes, it isn't that bad" you gave in, a small smile flashing over your face and relaxing your hold until the horse accelerated. You shrieked and clinged more while San just laughed.

After twenty five minutes, you saw the big wooden fences. The cattle farm layed peacefully in the vastness of the land, surrounded by endless grassy plains and rolling hills. At the centre of the property stood the farmhouse, a sturdy building made of sun-bleached wood that had weathered many storms. A wide veranda, furnished with rocking chairs and a wooden table, provided the perfect place to look out over the vast landscape.

Cows walked over the pasture, eating the dry grass. It was idyllic.

"That's your farm?" You asked, letting your gaze wander around. As soon as the horse halted, you jumped off just that San could dismount as well.

"Yes, in all its glory. Welcome to Red Wood Ranch." He exclaimed, signalling around him while smiling proudly.

"Wow, looks beautiful" you answered. You followed him to the tractor, sat next to him and you two took the way back to your track.

There, he towed it back to his farm, getting a better look.

"I think it'll take me some time before it's fixed." While his upper half disappeared completely into the bonnet, you helped him with giving him the tools he needed.

"Where did you learn to do that?" You asked curious. It seemed like he could do nearly everything. Bull riding, horse riding and repairing cars. And definitely so much more.

"I grew up here. Of course I know how I can fix a car."

𓆙𓆙𓆙

To be clear, you never thought that repairing a car could take so long. After four hours, both of you decided that you would continue tomorrow.

"Should I drive you home or do you want to sleep here?" He asked while he stepped into the farmhouse. The creaky front door opened into a rustic interior that reflected the tough but warm spirit of its inhabitant.

"You don't need to drive me. I'll stay" he nodded, leading you into the kitchen. The big window let the orange light of the sunset into the room, turning the wooden interior into a warm tone. The kitchen was beautiful, just like you had imagined it in a farmhouse.

"Then I guess you need to try my famous baked beans with mashed potatoes" a smile adorned his face.

"I would love to"

San was a great cook, opening the door to your heart with just one meal. You devoured every bite, making him laugh out loud. You sat in the simple garden, under an old tree, watching the sunset and later the stars. It was so beautiful. Even here, you could hear a cow moo from time to time. While you enjoyed the moment, you catched San staring at you. You grew red, brushing a loose hair strand out of your face.

"You look happy" he stated.

"I am. Moving here was the best decision I ever made"

In the middle of the night, both of you decided to finally go to bed. He showed you the guest bedroom, giving you a shirt because you didn't have anything with you. You thanked him and quickly brushed your teeth and throwing the shirt over your figure. It was big, too big for you but it smelled really nice.

San waited in front of the bathroom for his turn, his eyes widening when he saw you in his shirt. Thankfully the low light shielded his blush from you. You told him good night, unbeknown to you, his gaze followed you until you were out of his sight, admitting to himself that he liked the view of you in his clothes.

It was nice to have someone here again even if it was only for a night. But the house already felt warmer more like a home not just a farmhouse. He liked the company and the thought of someone who is here with him.

The next morning, when you came downstairs to the kitchen, you smelled already the delicious food.

"Good morning. Didn't know you were already up." You said, a yawn leaving you. Sadly, you had changed out of the shirt. "Yes, needed to feed the cows. I figured you would like to eat something."

Just the thought of his delicious food leaved you drooling.

After breakfast, he quickly continued to work on your truck and luckily after two hours he was finished. "Thank you so much, San. I didn't know what I would have done without you" you hugged him tight.

He laughed. "Then you're lucky you have me. I thank you for joining me for the night." You gave a smile widley.

"You're right. I am lucky. May I invite you to dinner tomorrow?" you answered. He agreed, watching you drive away with a light heart.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

You had agreed that he would pick you up so that both of you could go to the small restaurant. You were excited. It felt like you had known San for a long time. But it also made you nervous because you couldn't deny that there was more than friendship between you and him.

At seven pm sharp, his car stopped in front of your house. Quickly, you jumped into your shoes and walked towards the car after making sure that your door was locked. He leaned against his truck, dressed in a black shirt and a denim jacket. He looked handsome, especially with the way he styled his hair.

"You look beautiful, y/n" he said when you hugged him, jumping in the car.

"Well, you you don't look bad either" you confessed.

During the whole ride, the comfortable conversation went on. He lead you into the restaurant. It was small but still beautiful decorated. The waiter showed you your table outside in the lovely garden. The table was directly placed between three big trees with fairy lights, making it so much more romantic.

You learned that San's grandfather built the Red Wood Ranch until his parents took over and now he. His older sister has moved away into a big city, only coming here once a year. So, He was mostly alone but happy to live on the farm.

The night went on, slowly but surely, the heat of the day went away and leaved a cold wind that brushed against your shoulders. Of course you didn't think about bringing a jacket even if you knew that the nights were cold. You shivered slightly, brushing your hands up and down your arms to keep warm. San stood up and circled the table. Confused, you observed him as he took off his jacket and layed it over your shoulders. Immediately, you could smell his cologne, letting you inhale deeply.

"Thank you" you mumbled, pulling the denim jacket tighter around your body. He smiled and sat down in his seat again.

After dinner, San drove you home again. He stopped in front of your house, got out with you to bring you to your front door, mumbling something about safety.

"Thank you for the great evening" he said, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah, it was perfect. I had so much fun" you admitted, taking off his jacket to give it to him.

"You can keep it if you want" he added.

You chuckled. "I already have your hat. When you give all your clothes to me, you don't have anything to wear yourself"

He mimicked to think hardly. "You have a good point"

He leaned closer to you, his face only centimetres away from yours. "Even though I enjoy seeing you in my clothes" he added, his ears turning red. A rosy blush krept up your face, leaving San smirking. His eyes wandered from your eyes over your red cheeks to your lips.

San overcame the last centimetres and pressed his lips gently on yours. They were soft and couldn't do anything against it but to return the kiss, moving yours against his. Your lips tingled as a hand cupped your cheek, brushing over your soft skin.

Slowly, you finished the passionate kiss, leaning your forehead against his.

"I like you, y/n" he whispered, lips red and a bit swollen.

"I like you too, San" you replied, looking him deep in the eye. He pulled in for another kiss, a short one to say goodbye.

"Will you be there next weekend for the next competition?" he asked.

"Of course. I'll be there in the crowd watching you" A big smile plastered his face, leaning in once again to feel your lips against his. And you could feel his smile while kissing.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the next competition in bull riding!" The speaker shouted over the arena. The crowd was loud, discussing who will win.

You pushed yourself through the mass of people, forward right to the fence of the arena so that San could see you. You wore his hat, figuring that he would like it if you would wear it.

You watched his opponents, waiting for San's turn. One or two times, the person was immediately buckled off of the bull's back, hitting the ground hard. The crowd hissing as they heard the collision with the floor.

Then, San walked into the arena, waving when the speaker announced him. You and the other people cheered as he climbed onto the bull's back. The fence was opened and the bull ran into the arena, already buckling wildly.

He held onto the saddle with one hand, not letting go. Second for second passes. He had already the best time from all the opponents before him. The bull didn't give up, just buckling more and more while running through the arena.

Suddenly, the bull stopped full force. San loosed the grip, trying to not fly in front of the bull. Then, the animal jumped up, buckling like never before. San couldn't hold his balance and when the bull buckled one last time, he flew through the air, landing harsh on the ground, his head hitting an iron bar of the fence.

The cheering died, leaving the arena in silence. Everyone waited for San to get up but he still layed there. The bull was captured again and an emergency doctor ran to him. You pushed yourself through the fence, running to him.

"Ma'am, please, stay away" someone said. You shook your head. "He is my boyfriend" you lied. Well, technically he wasn't your boyfriend but you really liked him, well, you loved him.

They let you through. Fortunately, San was already awake, leaning against the fence with half closed eyes. "San" you whispered. Sitting down next to him, observing him precisely. He had a cut on his lips and some blood dropped down from his forehead. His hand grabbed yours, playing with it while he gave you an encouraging smile.

The doctor bandaged the forehead. When he was finished, you helped San up. Slowly, you walked him out of the arena, clutching to his hand.

"Your boyfriend, huh?" He teased while wiggling his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips as you two sat down in a room, waiting for the doctor.

You grew red, letting his hand go to brush your hair back. "I was worried!" You defended.

"It's okay. I loved the sound of it. Can you call me that again?" His eyes sparkled with amusement and malicious joy. He was such a tease.

"Oh shut it! I was scared." You crossed your arms, turning away from him so that he could see your embarrassment.

Two strong were arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against the muscular chest.

You felt San's face in your hair, inhaling deep.

"I'm sorry. I was just teasing you" he mumbled into your neck, leaving you shivering when his hot breath hit your skin.

"But I liked you calling me your boyfriend and I want to be able to call you my girlfriend. Is that okay?" He added, turning you around.

You couldn't say no to his sweet puppy eyes. You nodded and carefully placed your lips against his.

"You are never going to ride a bull ever again!" You commanded shortly after.

"We will discuss that later, princess" he said, pulling into another kiss.

[autisticrosewilson]

I bet Jason is unreasonably good at staying on those mechanical bulls that you find in rowdy bars, with those thighs I dont even think he needs to use a hand. Just taunting the ride operator to give him a challenge, meanwhile the whole place is slack jawed.

PLEASE I'VE BEEN DYING TO TALK ABOUT THIS YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW

I think it happens after a long mission somewhere in the south, it's hot and miserable and Jason would love to just go home, but fuck if he doesn't need a drink first. Him and his team of choice go to the nearest bar and look at that! They actually have one of those mechanical bulls in the middle. Someone dares him to do it and he declines, but after a few drinks...well Jason is shit at holding his alcohol.

He hops up on the bull without the help of the operator, and the crowd cheers when he gives the go-ahead. The machine whirrs and then the rocking starts, slow at first but rapidly picking up speed. Jason's got a grip on it with his thighs that might not be entirely possible for normal humans to achieve and it hardly bucks him. He doesn't even need both hands and he uses the other one to flip off whichever of his teammates has decided to film the whole thing.

The bull stops with a lurch and the club is still a spinning mess of flashing lights for a while, the operator does have to help him off. He stumbles, rights himself, and grins full and sharp at the crowd. There's a prize apparently, he doesn't care for the gaudy cowboy hat someone plops on his head - if he were a little more sober he'd cringe at how many people wore it before him - but his group cheers at the promised free rounds.

Jason gets a lot of free drinks that night, courtesy of the many people apparently enamored by his performance. He doesn't go home with any of them of course, his friends know he can't make a decision like that.

Although Jason would deny it heavily the next day and do his best to get it deleted, the video does still exist if you're brave enough to ask Oracle and pray the fee for it.

[shallowseeker]

🥂 Goodbye, 2024! 🥂

🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆

📖 Stories 📖

This year I finished these!

Jack versus Chuck, over and over and over...

//

Sam sucks sometimes, especially when it comes to sticking his nose into the Dean-Cas romantic mystery but he's also brave enough to jump after his brother into a sinkhole, so he has his moments

//

The Empty is a great big bag of dicks and can apparently travel through enchanted mirrors for the sole purpose of torturing our heroes

//

🎉2025 🎉

✍️ The first half of next year I'll work on these (maybe) ✍️

Chuck wants you to think Cas is his self-insert and Michael is totally gonna be the hero this time he swears it pay no attention to him giving Jack the Mark of Cain

&

After leaving Raphael in a ring of fire, Dean gets weird about their near-death experience and decides to offer Cas what Chastity could not: the horizontal tango (NOTE/// omg i never added my beta's edit. I'm sorry you guys I'll do that too probably to ch1)

///

🧠 Meta requests 🧠

Organize it, please (any tips?)

Rowena & Lucifer

Rowena as a Michael vessel

John's friendships (Missouri, Pastor Jim, etc.)

The Winchesters SPNwin

Samuel Campbell

Metatron arc compared to Godstiel (*in drafts)

Ruby 1.0

Mrs. Butters as bunker sentry

Naomi (she's complicated!)

John, as forcibly isolated by demons

Dean's suicidality in Moriah

Cas's fraught relationship with Jack's powers / angel nature

Soul bombs and the TFW willingness to sacrifice numerous anonymous souls at numerous times in the series

How Cas would treat John (my views on John-the-suckup are known)

If Andrea Kormos had lived to takeover the (vampiric) family business

Ca's flagrant, quietly diverted anger in season 15 (*in drafts)

The mechanisms of Dean's friendship with Cas

Dog God Dog God, Barking as a warning sign in the SPN soundscape

The kitchen of love

The family diner

The bar of friendship

The meaning of Unhuman Nature

Ketch as MoL John

Rowena's first resurrection spell and why she needed it

Marie and the hypothetical fankids (derogatory, torture)

Miracle as a cruel taunt to the fanbase, "A Shaggy Dog story"

Dean as the impala

Any vehicle meta I can think of

Jack's mimicry of Cas's looks and his mimicry of Dean

Purgatory as "undesirables"

Metaron and his dog

What if post-season 15 Chuck started writing again? what would he write?

"I was in control, she moved" in 14x16

Jack as nothingness

When The Empty told Cas (script) that he died for NOTHING

When angel/demon blads *don't kill humans; but are potent to angels/demons

Jack's parallel to Dean and Cas in being willing to do "the dirty work" and kill Dean in 14x02

Mary's hair

I'm still going through my drafts

EDIT: more penis meta (you guys can't really want that???)

EDIT: Bull meta or antlers meta

EDIT: Finish the Zachariah / The End meta*

EDIT: Dean, Cas, hands, and handprints

EDIT: Coffins and ma'lak boxes as symbols of being unable to let go

Leave a comment if I forgot one, please.

[cooperxjames]

Cooper had picked up a shift at Cowbells and he was enjoying the opportunity to watch people attempt to ride (and mostly fail) ride the mechanical bull. It was a fast paced night, but not super chaotic, and he was just enjoying a night that felt a little bit like home. He rolled his neck a bit, turning from the shelf behind the bar, and looking at whoever had sat at the bar.

"Hey," he smiled, grabbing a glass and sliding it in front of them. "How can I help you tonight?" he asked. "And, if you feel brave enough to give Millie a go and stay on, drinks are half off," he said, his lips quirking into a little grin.

( @bhqextras )

[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 2: Out of the Woods

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: here's chapter two, guys! thanks to everyone who responded to the first part! y'all made my day! without further ado, enjoy! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: Operation Overlord is upon Easy Company, and the brave paratroopers get their first taste of war.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood

Hundreds of tents lined the muddy fields surrounding the Upottery Airfield in preparation for Operation Overlord. (Y/n) found a dry spot amongst 2nd platoon and laid out all of her supplies. Looking at the various grenades, mines, and other random items, she groaned. “How am I supposed to put all of this in a pack? It’s ridiculous!”

“Tell me about it! ”Joe Toye scoffed from her right, staring down at his pile. “I’ve got a three-day supply of ‘K’ rations, chocolate bars, charms, candy, powdered coffee, sugar, matches, compass, bayonet, entrenching tool, ammunition, gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my webbing, my .45, canteen, two cartons of smokes, Hawkins mine, two grenades, smoke grenades, Gammon grenade, TNT, this bull, and a pair of nasty skivvies!”

Perconte rolled his eyes, tired of Joe’s rant. “What’s your point?”

“Come on,” Toye fumed. “This stuff weighs as much as I do! Probably twice as much as (y/l/n).”

“Yeah, yeah,” she chuckled as Joe continued.

“I still got my chute, my reserve chute, my Mae West, and my M-1.”

Frank got up and walked past the group, calling over his shoulder with an amused expression. “Where are you keeping your brass knuckles?”

“I could use some brass knuckles,” Toye sighed, sitting back on his heels.

(Y/n) finished readying her pack and attempted to lift it over her shoulder with a grunt.

“You and me both, Joe,” she gritted, failing the first few tries.

The fourth time, it weighed considerably less, and she was able to wobbly sit it on her shoulder without tipping over. A proud smile grew on her face, but when she turned and saw who was there, her lips formed a fake pout.

“Nix, you know I could’ve done that by myself?”

The officer laughed, his bright smile making an appearance. “Sure, I thought watching you fail three times was enough.”

Realizing he just admitted to watching her, he shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat. “Two years. Two years of training led us here. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, looking around at all her fellow soldiers. “I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“Well, time did seem to crawl by when we were with Sobel.”

“Absolutely. I still remember his dumbfounded face when Luz impersonated Major Horton. It was the best day of my life.”

Vest came by with pamphlets, handing them to every soldier, announcing they were from Colonel Sink.

“George,” (y/n) called. “Can you do Sink?”

“Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son? Uh, sweetheart?” He corrected, cringing. “Doll? Your majesty? Great and mighty (y/n)?”

(Y/n) raised her eyebrows at him, smirking. “Nice try.”

Cracking a smile, he held up the paper and began reading it as the Colonel. “Soldiers of the regiment, tonight is the night-,” his voice lowered, becoming serious as he continued. “-of nights. Today, as you read this, you are en route to the great adventure for which you have trained for over two years.”

The message hung in the air as each paratrooper took it in. They were going to war. The realization washed over (y/n) like a bucket of ice water, and her mind flashed with the faces of the men she’d come to call brothers. 

Don, George, Skip, Alex, Frank, Lip…

It could be the last time she saw some of them.

“Hey,” Nix smirked and pointed at the various mohawks Lieb had given some men, oblivious to her anxiety-ridden mind. “I think you should try that hairstyle.”

She rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him on the chest. “Whatever.”

When he didn’t reply, she followed his line of sight to Lieutenant Meehan, who stood atop a jeep. ”Easy Company! Listen up! Gather around me.”

Once Easy was fully gathered, he continued. “Now, the Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog. High winds on the drop zone. No jump tonight!”

Grumbles broke out from the men as they looked at each other in disbelief.

“The invasion has been postponed. We’re on a 24-hour stand-down. Drill sergeants, take charge.”

(Y/n) looked up at Nix as he lit a cigarette, shaking her head with a groan. “Great.”

“What?” He shrugged. “Can’t put up with me for another 24 hours?”

“You know what? You’re insufferable, Nix.”

JUNE 6th, 1944: UPOTTERY AIRFIELD

The channel cleared the next day, and the jump was back on. (Y/n) removed her helmet and grabbed the grease paint from George’s outstretched hand. 

“I hate this stuff,” she grumbled, twisting off the cap.

She felt someone take the small can from her hand and recognized the culprit by their low chuckle. 

(Y/n) turned to face him with a playful scowl. “Why are you so immature, Lewis?”

“Lewis?” He gasped, a hand flying to his chest. “Oh, I’ve really done it now.”

Her scowl broke as she shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“See, I think you’re overthinking this,” he stated, holding up the tin. “All you have to do is get a glob,” he scooped a few fingers into the can. “-And rub it on your face, like so.”

To (y/n)’s dismay, he quickly reached out and smeared the paint down her cheek with a proud smirk.

“See? Voilà.”

Mouth hanging open, she snatched the can from him, hardly concealing her newly formed amused smile. “I hate you,” she deadpanned as she started toward the rest of her platoon.

His hand reached out and grasped her wrist. “Hang on. Let me fix it.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

Lew knew her well enough to see that it was taking all her willpower to keep the corners of her lips from curling into a smile. He thought it was an admirable attempt, but he could see straight through her. 

What he didn’t expect was her glare to drop completely when he lightly tugged her closer by her wrist. An unreadable expression passed over her face, and Lew discovered he might not be able to read her as well as he thought. 

Peering down at her, he softly brushed her (y/h/c) flyaways from her face before leaning down to be at eye level with her. (Y/n)’s breath hitched slightly at the gentle touch, and she looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Don’t make me look like a raccoon, okay?” She whispered, nervousness flowing through her veins.

With a nod, he got some paint on a few fingers and cupped her jaw with his other hand before making lines across her forehead and cheeks. Tilting her face up softly, his touch trailed down her nose down to her lips. Nix’s gaze stayed there for a moment, swallowing thickly as he noticed their curve and the slight pout they were shaped in.

‘It would be so easy to lean in and…stop,’ he caught himself.

“Uh, all done,” he murmured, dropping his hands to his pockets.

(Y/n) blinked, coming down from the high of his touch. “Thank you,” she replied, her gaze locked with his. “Do you need any help with yours?”

Snapping out of his daze, he smiled bashfully. “I’ve got it.”

A few seconds later, Dick approached them, all geared up and ready to go. “It’s time.”

D-Day had begun.

Staring at the solemn faces of Skip and George across from her, the endless possibilities of what could go wrong flooded her mind as her stomach began to churn.

What if their stick blew up?

What if she was captured?

What if she was killed?

(Y/n) looked up at the sleeping man beside her, admiring his face in the dim light of the plane. Her eyes followed the curve of his nose down to his parted lips as soft breaths passed through them. Even covered in grease in a dark C-47, he was still breathtaking.

What if he was killed?

When they first met in that putrid-smelling mess hall in Toccoa, (y/n) never would have guessed what would become of the pair. The mysterious aura that first drew her to him was quickly wiped away after a few months, revealing a kind, but complicated, man who was sometimes too smart for his own good. 

He was there to vent to when Captain Sobel revoked her weekend pass because her hair was “too long,” and was simply always there to support her. Through the new COs, new bases, and even new countries, he’d been a constant. Over the last two years, he’d been there for her, and she realized that if anything happened to him, she wouldn’t know what to do.

Sure, she was close with the other men in Easy, especially 2nd platoon, but those relationships were… different. Her heart didn’t skip a beat when George Luz or Chuck Grant walked into a room. Their smile didn’t cause heat to rush to her cheeks. 

He was her best friend. There was no other way to describe it. 

But do best friends look at each other the way they do?

Her thoughts continued to run rampant for the next hour as the paratroopers got closer to their destination. To her left, Tab was deep in thought, as well, pulling at his bottom lip as he usually did when thinking. Pulling herself from her thoughts, (y/n) nudged him with her shoulder. 

“So, I heard you got a present from home.”

He dropped his hand to his lap and grinned as he fished something from his bag. “Yeah, courtesy of the Kokomo police department.”

Floyd showed her the revolver with a proud expression. “It feels good to have a little bit of home with me.”

“That’s great, Tab. I’m glad you’ve got support like that from home.”

“What did your folks have to say about you joining up?” He asked.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before answering, willing the memory from her mind. “They weren’t thrilled, that’s for sure.”

He elbowed her side gently with a chuckle. “Well, we’re all real glad you decided to join this mess. Who else is gonna keep all of us straight?”

Laughing to herself, (y/n) leaned her helmet back against the rumbling wall of the plane, wishing sleep would welcome her soon. Her eyes shot open after a few minutes when the aircraft shook with turbulence. Nausea crept up her throat at the movement, and she groaned at the realization she wasn’t going to get any rest.

Time seemed to stretch on forever sitting on the hard metal seat of the plane. Some of the other men started to rouse and have small conversations around her, but all she could think about was her parents. Could they stand to lose another child?

Tears burned her eyes as her mind replayed the moment they heard the news about Pearl Harbor and her brother’s fate. Her mother’s wails when she collapsed onto the floor beside the radio. The deep ache in her chest didn’t seem to go away with time, and she doubted it ever would.

(Y/n) was pulled from her thoughts by a gentle hand on her shaking knee.

“You’re gonna be okay, (y/n/n).”

Lew.

“Yeah,” she sighed, furiously blinking away her tears. “I’m not worried about myself, though.”

“Don’t worry about me, alright? Stay focused on yourself.”

(Y/n) smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What made you think I was worried about you, mister ‘yale know-it-all?’”

At that moment, Nixon was thankful for the dark plane, for she couldn’t see the flush that crept across his cheeks. “Only by the kind way you speak to me,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Within seconds, his face became serious. “But I mean it, (y/n). Please be careful.”

“I will, Lew. You too, okay?” She replied, grasping his hand atop her knee.

Their conversation was cut short by the red light flashing on beside Dick. Nodding at each other, they prepared for what was about to happen.

“Get ready!” Lieutenant Winters yelled above the rumble of the plane. “Stand up! Hook Up! Equipment check!”

Following orders, they stood, hooked up, and started checking their helmets, followed by pulling on the harnesses of those in front of them. George stood between Nix and (y/n) in line, separating the pair.

“Don’t enjoy this too much,” George jeered back to her as she checked his equipment. 

Through his humor, she could see the fear that each of them felt. 

Dick’s voice filled the plane again. “Sound off for equipment check!”

“Ten okay!”

“Nine okay!”

“Eight okay!”

“Seven okay!”

Hearing her heartbeat in her ears, (y/n) attempted to push her fear deep down. 

“Six okay!” Chuck yelled, tapping her on the shoulder.

(Y/n) repeated the motion for George, shouting. “Five okay,”

“Four okay!”

“Three okay!”

“Two okay!”

“One okay!” Winters finished, looking out the jump door.

Within seconds, the cloud cover dissipated, and explosions filled the air, violently tilting the plane sideways. (Y/n) lost her balance and fell back onto her seat with a curse. Luckily, Chuck grabbed her harness and hoisted her back on her feet in front of him. 

As the plane continued to shake beneath their feet, she looked through the small window at the stick beside them just in time to see it get hit and go down in flames. Her mouth went dry at the sight, and she prayed that they wouldn’t share the same fate.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Someone yelled at the back of the plane.

Lip turned behind him. “Does that light look green to you?”

The man didn’t get to respond as gunfire ripped through the plane, peppering him with shrapnel.

“I’m hit!”

Among the chaos, the green light flicked on, and Winters called out to them. “Let’s go!”

Without hesitation, he jumped out the door, followed by Gene, Lew, and George. Following Luz, (y/n) didn’t even look before pushing herself out the door.

The first thing she felt was the wind whipping at her equipment as she fell through the air. Anti-aircraft shells exploded around her, adding to the deafening cacophony surrounding her. Explosions, screams, gunfire…it was a sound she’d never forget.

Even with her parachute deployed, the ground was fast approaching. To her panic, she couldn’t see her DZ anywhere. To make matters even worse, the wind guided her toward the dense forest instead of one of the many open fields surrounding her. She tried to pull up on the risers to change her direction, but it was too late. Within seconds, she flew into the tall European oak trees she tried so desperately to avoid.

All air left her lungs as she slammed into a tree, sending her falling through the branches. The sound of snapping wood filled her ears and she hissed at the sharp stings that covered her body as she fell. 

With a jolt, her descent was abruptly stopped, causing her to swing into a nearby trunk with a thwack. (Y/n) groaned at the impact, feeling pain seep into her already bruised and battered body. 

“Great,” she hissed, looking up at the tangled chute. “Of course, I landed in a freaking forest.”

Seeing she was only a few feet off the ground, (y/n) let out a sigh of relief and reached for her knife. When she looked down, she cursed at the missing bag that was supposed to be attached to her leg. 

‘At least I didn’t put anything important in there,’ she thought.

The (y/h/c) quickly cut herself free of the chute and fell through the air again, landing on her feet with a wince. Even though she couldn’t see herself, she knew she had to look rough. The stinging from various cuts and scratches torso, arms, and legs were a dead giveaway to her appearance. 

Pulling out her M1, she quietly made her way to a clearing better illuminated by the moon. She stayed near the edge, wary of being seen, and used her compass and map to try and figure out where she was. After a few minutes, she discovered she was a few miles west of the rally point. Just as she was about to move, a drip of red on her map stole her attention. (Y/n) took off her helmet and began to run a shaky hand through her grimy hair when a sharp pain flared from her temple, making her groan at the searing sensation. Pulling her hand away, she gasped to see it covered in dark red. 

The paratrooper quickly grabbed a bandage and gritted her teeth, tying it the best she could.

“Head wounds bleed the most,” Doc Roe had said in a medic seminar. “You’re gonna go through bandages quick.”

 She gently placed the helmet back on her head and took a deep breath. “You can do this, (y/n),” she muttered under her breath as she started moving east toward the rally point. “You can do it.”

She’d made it to the ground, but she wasn’t out of the woods, yet.

D-Day Plus Three: Sainte-Mère-Eglise, France

Since Nix finally made it to Sainte-Mère-Eglise on June 7th, his eyes searched the crowd for one face. Every day, he kept a constant check on who arrived and who they’d seen or heard from, and for two days, he couldn’t rest.

On the third day, he overheard some men from the 82nd.

“Did you see the broad?”

On instinct, he rushed out of the makeshift company CP onto the street filled with exhausted paratroopers, ignoring the concerned looks from the men as he quickly made his way to the front of the town. 

“Thank God,” he whispered, seeing her wobbly figure from a distance. 

Her downcast eyes didn’t see him approach as she dragged her feet in the mud, too tired to even pick them up.

“You’re late to the party,” Lew chuckled, trying to mask his relief.

Despite the ringing pain in her head, her eyes shot up to meet his. When their gazes met, she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. He made it.

A tired smile grew on her blood and dirt-covered face. “Nice to see you, too, Lew.”

Extending his arm out to her, Nix pulled her into a tight embrace. It was like his mind needed physical reassurance she was there. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured into her helmet.

Leaning into his chest, she let the rhythm of his heart calm her fear. Even in a warzone, she felt safe in his arms. “I was worried about you, too.”

A chuckle reverberated through his chest. “So you were worried about me, huh?”

Pulling back to look at him, (y/n) smirked. “I take it back.”

His playful expression changed to concern as he noticed her pale face and the blood beneath her helmet. “Hey, what happened? You’re bleeding.”

(Y/n) ducked her head to the side. “I’m fine, Lew. Really.”

“Come on, let me see,” he urged, gently unclasping her helmet. 

A hiss left him, seeing the blood-soaked cloth haphazardly tied around her head. 

“(Y/n),” he sighed, one hand tilting her jaw to see the wound while the other peeled back the bandage. The gash ran from her right temple to just above her ear. “This is deep. You’re gonna need stitches. Let’s go to the aid station.”

His tender touch left her speechless. “Ok-okay,” she whispered, following him to the medic tent.

The coppery smell of blood hit her like a ton of bricks the second she entered the tent. Men were lying on cots, missing limbs, and crying in agony. (Y/n) froze, unable to tear her gaze from the carnage before her. A guiding hand on the small of her back urged her to keep walking. 

“Come on, (y/n/n). This way,” Lew muttered.

He led her into another tent that was less crowded and sat her down on a nearby cot. “I’ll go find Doc. Stay here.”

Laying back on the cot, (y/n) allowed her body to fully relax for the first time in almost three days. Soreness gnawed at her muscles, leaving behind a dull ache that drained all of her energy. Within a few minutes, her eyes began to droop, and sleep finally welcomed her.

“She’s in here,” Lew said, Doc Roe in tow. “She’s got a nasty cut on her head.”

The cajun nodded. “Alright, I’ll take a look. You know head wounds bleed a lot.”

Walking into the room, their expressions softened at her curled-up form on the cot. “Is it okay if she sleeps,” Nix asked, crouching next to her.

Grimacing, Roe shook his head. “I really should check her head, sir.”

With a nod, Lew gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, (y/n/n). Doc’s here to check your head.”

She weakly groaned and sat up slowly. “I think I could sleep for a week.”

Chuckling, Gene held his index finger up in front of her face. “Follow my finger.”

After a few seconds, he sighed, grabbing a suture kit from his satchel. “Doesn’t look like you have a concussion, but that cut’ll need stitches.”

Roe carefully cleaned the wound as (y/n)’s eyes screwed shut. “You ready?” He asked.

Keeping her eyes closed, her hand shot out beside her, grasping onto Nixon’s hand tightly. “Lew, please talk to me. Say anything, I don’t care, just talk.”

He squeezed her hand in response as she let out a hiss when the first suture pulled through her split skin.

“When I was in college…” 

With Lewis Nixon’s warm and reassuring hand in hers, along with his distracting words, the pain became bearable. In the small medic tent in Sainte-Mère-Eglise, Eugene smiled to himself, witnessing the intimate moment between the two.

“Ce sont des idiots.” He muttered to himself. “Des idiots en mal d’amour.”

tag list: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @im-chinese-believe-it-or-not @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt

message or comment if you want to be added!!

[merinsedai]

For @dreamlingbingo

And here is snippet 2 for The Wizard and the Unicorn:

Square/Prompt: D3: Circus

Title: The Wizard and the Unicorn

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: minor character death

Additional Tags: The Last Unicorn au, unicorn Dream, wizard Hob, magic, quests, castles by the sea, falling in love, learning to regret, magical transformations

Summary: "You can find the others if you are brave. They passed down all the roads long ago, and the Red Bull ran close behind them and covered their footprints..." Are all the unicorns gone from the world? Is he the last? What happened to the others? To find the answers to his questions, Dream must leave the sanctuary of his forest and face the dangers of the mortal world. Along the way he will encounter friend and foe, witches and wizards, harpies and highwaymen, and a demonic bull guarding the way to a crumbling castle by the sea...

A snippet from Chapter Three:

When Dream awakes it is to cold iron bars and a cage. He can feel the enchantment laid upon him like lead, stripping him of his magic and weighing him down, trapping him fully within his form and within the confines of the cage.  The cage itself is of crude construction and mean proportions. It is wooden box on wheels, barely big enough for him to turn around, fully enclosed on three sides- the fourth containing said iron bars- and with a floor covered in a thin of layer of straw. In one corner there stands a metal pail of water and next to it, a meagre pile of hay. Dream wrinkles his nose in contempt. Hay indeed! Nothing will induce him to touch that. The grass in his forest is fresh and sweet, and he eats it because he wishes to, though he truly has no need of the sustenance. Starvation will not kill him, immortal as he is, though he would feel its effects eventually. Not that that matters: he will not be trapped in this mortal prison long enough for it to matter. 

Dream heaves himself to his feet with none of his usual grace. The spellcaster who has imprisoned him has wielded their magic with blunt force. Dream can sense no finesse to their enchantment, but it is holding strong. He gives his head a shake, trying and failing to rid himself of the sense of malaise that courses through him, and then turns fully to the bars to try and take in his surroundings.  His seems to be one of several identical wooden cages all arranged in a somewhat haphazard circle. Though Dream can hear shifting and grunts coming from within, most of the enclosures have dense drapes drawn half across them, shielding their inhabitants from view. He finds his gaze being drawn to one in particular, where the heavy curtain is drawn fully and the unseen occupant is silent. Despite there being no sign of life, there is something about that cage that makes him uneasy…. It contains something magical, he is sure. Truly magical. And dangerous. Dangerous even to him.

Beyond the circle, Dream can make out a large canvas-covered construction, its pointed top reaching high up into the lightening sky. It is brightly striped in red and blue, green and white, though the colours are yet muted in the pre-dawn light. It is early, but not quiet: there is noise and movement everywhere. Humans busy about tasks that Dream does not understand, though clearly they are readying themselves for the day. A closer noise has Dream’s head snapping round, ears pricking. His eyes find a dark clad figure, short and hunchbacked, pushing a handcart into the circle. He watches closely as the figure shuffles between the cages, scooping something from his cart and tossing it between gaps in the bars. There is the sound of snuffling and crunching. Clearly, it is feeding time. 

The figure approaches him last, avoiding the strange and silent cage that has Dream’s senses on edge. They stop in front of his cage and stare up at him with a look of mild contempt. It is a man, Dream notes, with an eyepatch, a crumpled nose and a mean set to his stubbled jaw. Thick, bristling eyebrows drawn down almost obscuring his remaining dark eye, and he spits through a gap in his yellowing crooked teeth.  Dream’s ear flicks in revulsion, but he makes no other movement or acknowledgement of the mortal before him. 

“Yer awake then?” the man grunts finally. “She said yer would be. G’arn then, eat up.” He reaches into his cart and tosses a shovelful of pellets through the bars at Dream. They roll through the hay in every direction, and Dream lifts a hoof in disgust to avoid touching them.

“Wassa matter?" says the man with a grin. "Too grand for Master Ruhk’s daily special? Well there ain’t nothin’ else, so yer can eat like the rest of ‘em. Pretty little horse like you can’t be wastin’ away. She won’t let yer. Yer a big prize, after all.”

“Who are you?” Dream growls. He would not normally deign to speak to this human but he is impatient for answers. “Where am I?”

“Oh, a talkin’ horse, are yer?” Rukh doesn’t seem particularly impressed. “Did she magic yer a voice as well as a horn?”

Dream’s eyes narrow at that. Magic me a horn? “Answer me, human,” he hisses with an angry swish of his tail.

“Demanding little thing, ain’t yer!” the man-Rukh- guffaws, “Alright, never let it be said that Rukh can’t be charmed by pretty ponies who ask so politely! This,” he sweeps an arm and gestures expansively. “Is Madame Thessaly’s Most Magical Circus and Midnight Sideshow, where ‘creatures of night are brought to light!’ For a modest fee, o’ course. ” he performs a mock bow. “And yer our newest attraction. So, welcome to yer new home, my lord.I hope yer enjoy yer stay”

[magicvet]

|| Rosita & Corey ||

Corey had made a few New Year resolutions. Never mind that it was still a few weeks before New Years, when Corey made up his mind, he stubbornly went with it no matter what, a true Taurean bull through a brick wall. So far, his biggest role-model when it came to building up confidence was none other than Roman, his best friend of 20+ years. Somewhere deep in his heart Corey knew that Roman wasn’t the best example out there he should go by considering they were polar opposites when it came to these things but the older veterinary doctor had made up his mind to be brave enough tonight to try anything at least once.

So there he was now, at a bar, a place Roman would usually choose to exercise his own charming confidence. Bars had never been Corey’s scene and it was his first time walking into this one but hey, if it was working for his best friend, who’s to say it would not work for him if he tried it? Besides, he needed all the confidence he could possibly get if he would ever be able to truly follow through on what he wanted to do. Which was forget the person he was hung up on and properly make the right moves on the person he was now interested in.

So, the bar. Talking to strangers. Drinking. To build up confidence. People did these things all the time, right? Shouldn’t be too hard? But it’s been almost half an hour already and Corey had barely touched his double shot of whiskey (something Roman would order) and was not even close to even looking anyone’s way let alone coming up to talk to them. He felt rather pathetic, really. It was slowly coming to him that he simply might not be cut out for these things. But then, when he thought about leaving, he felt bad for breaking his own resolve he was so set up on when he had walked in. And also, leaving without finishing his drink after only half an hour of pointlessly lingering around felt awkward. What if anyone around him noticed and found him odd? It was a conundrum and Corey sighed helplessly, continuing to linger, curled over the bar top at his seat, idle hands playing with his glass of whiskey.

@icanbuymyownflowers

[remembertheplunge]

I wonder, did my Dad walk these streets?

10/6/2006

8:46pm Omaha time

I did it. I’m in bar called “The Library” in Old Town Omaha. It’s book shelves are lined with Federal Reporters.

Wow. Incredible place. And the bed and breakfast I’m staying in, too, is super.

So, wow, what a day. Up since 2am 2 flights. 3 airports. What an incredibly mechanical way to live. People are like cattle zombies.

My favorite scene was the man, in a fowl smelling men’s room at the Denver Airport, urinating next to me, talking business on his cell phone complete with flushing back ground noise.

I feel like I just sort of stumbled onto Old Town. It’s absolutely great!Funky. Youthful. Red brick. Horse and carriages.Cops on Horseback. Cool! This place is so delightful bohemian! I wonder, Did Dad walk these streets? Did my grand parents or great grandparents?

9:08 pm

Dinner at the “Up Current” was lousy. But, I loved the waitress. She’s a wanna be lawyer. She thinks that Omaha is very conservative. Her gay friend has a difficult time here.

6:30pm. 10/7/2006

I’m at” Flix”. It’s an Omaha gay bar. Cute bar tender. They play music videos here. It’s kind of a classic gay bar. Like the Brave Bull in Modesto. Loud TV here. Smell of old booze and cigarettes. There are ash trays! I guess people can smoke here. There are no gay news papers around. Only 2 other guys here. American Idol is on TV.

End of this part of entry

Note:

In a previous blog I had written about the above trip to Omaha, Nebraska from my home in Modesto, California to attend a family reunion from my mother’s side of the family.

Federal Reporters are books containing Federal Case Law.

[kylieguess]

Bartender Mouscepades - 08/06/24

Started this shift as a bartender. I was a late join however, so there was already a bartender that had made a bunch of drinks, and set them out.

This left me with frankly, not very much to do. the bar was LINED with them, could hardly see the wood underneath all the glasses. I spent the majority of the time just greeting people as they came by, grabbed one of the glasses, drank and then left. Very few custom orders.

That gave me a lot of time however, and I noticed a mouse run around, presumably annoying the chef. I decided to point at it as it made one of its little circuits and it stopped and looked at me. I told it to come over, and it looked apprehensive. I said I'd call it "Barmaus" and it seemed to accept, ran over and let me name it. I picked it up and put it on my head and it seemed pretty happy!

I gave the lil guy some cake and a drink, then I spot ANOTHER mouse run past. The mouse atop my head points at it and calls it over, and it lets me name it "Barmooze". The other mouse hops down from my head and the two start cheeping and chittering to each other. They munch down the last of the cake, so they venture out beyond the bar.

I followed them to the kitchen, there were mouse traps under the table where a bunch of delicious (to the mice at least...) organs were laid out. One of them bravely, and carefully stood outside their range and began snacking, and the other one followed. Nice and full, we started to head back to the bar when we heard gunshots!

We rushed into the next room to see two security officers fooling around with a cap gun. The mice were a little ahead of me, and one of the security officers, a lizard man, noticed them. He took out his knife and swung at Barmooze, cutting him down in one hit. Barmooze was only a mouse, after all. The officer picked him up and ate him in one bite.

I yelled "HEY!!" at him, he didn't seem to care. Just walked away. Barmaus tried chasing after him, but i picked him up and tried taking him to safety. He wriggled his way out of my hands and tried following the officer again, pointing at him but, but I just picked Barmaus up and put him on my head. "He ate him..." I said, and Barmaus let out a little mousey cry.

We headed back to the bar, only to find another mouse had showed up behind it. There was a security officer barking at him, complaining that he was awful at serving drinks. But he just left before I could even take his order. This third mouse was dubbed "Barmeese".

A little bit of drinks serving and some mouse-to-mouse communication later, another lizard man shows up the bar. Named "Leaves-The-Tree". First thing he says, after noticing the mice were frightened, was "Don't worry! I'm a vegetarian." The mice relaxed around him, and he started telling us his manifesto. "If we worked together with animals, and granted them rights, the world would be a better place."

As he was telling us this, Barmaus wanders off a bit, and encounters the mime. Another lizard man, named "Bulls-Eye". He took a swing at Barmaus, thinking of him as a quick and easy snack. His first slash connected, but his follow-ups missed. Barmaus managed to limp back behind the bar.

Leaves-The-Tree offered to go find some medical supplies for Barmaus, and left with the assurance he'd be back. As he left, Barmeese trailed him, and Bulls-Eye tried throwing a shard of glass at him, thankfully missing.

Engineering has a little oopsie, and gravity goes out. We don't have any trouble from any mouse-hungry lizard men for a little while, and Leaves-The-Tree returns and tends to Barmaus, giving him a little bandaid. On his tail however, is yet another mouse! This one was dubbed "Barmisse".

While the mice are having fun, floating around in zero gravity, the security officer lizard man shows up again. He tries throwing a knife at one of them, thankfully missing again, and prompting the mice to come back behind the bar once again. Yet another mouse shows up after! This one was named "Barmasse". Gravity gets turned back on.

At this point, there's 4 mice running around behind the bar. They all motion like they're hungry, to which I reply "Sorry! No more food." They then all start pointing at the vending machine, promting me to leave the bar. Right as I do, Bulls-Eye pulls out a mousetrap and slides it across the floor, catching Barmaus, the first mouse to show up, and killing him. Just like every other time, he just picks it up and eats it whole.

I cry a bit for Barmaus, and set to work feeding the other mice. A solemn duty now. As I'm feeding them, yet another mouse shows up. Dubbed "Barmaus II", Barmaus the Second. Before I even get a chance to get acquainted with the little guy, an anomaly shows up in the seating area.

This particular kind of anomaly, a plant anomaly, are extremely unsafe to keep. They spawn monsters that attack people and ruin the flooring of the station. Despite it being obviously for the best to destroy it and hope for a better one next time, the science team elected to keep it for far longer than they should have.

In the time it was dormant, Leaves-The-Tree returns. He offers to do an interview on the treatment of mice. The mice, being happy he was there, were running around outside. Bulls-Eye took this as an opportunity to swipe at another mouse. He takes out and eats Barmisse. Yet another mouse down.

Leaves-The-Tree, who was just about to start the interview with me, flies into a rage. He swipes at him with claws of his own, yells "Give it back!", unaware Bulls-Eye had already swallowed it. When Bulls-Eye just smiles at him, Leaves-The-Tree beats him unconscious.

Security arrested him. Mice were considered pests, pet or otherwise, and Bulls-Eye was technically free to just kill them if he desires, and it was technically assault. I was thankful to him but, tragically, that didn't mean much.

Following that happening, as was inevitable, monsters spawn from the anomaly. Security was there to deal with the first wave, however they left for the second and third, leaving me to attempt to defend the bar alone with my trusty shotgun. One of the monsters zaps me with a laser, so I line up the shot and...

I pull the trigger, with Barmeese just in front of the barrel. The beanbag slug bounces off of him, knocking him unconscious instantly. Distraught, I inject him with my emergency medical syringe, drag him into the back room and lay him on the floor. I don't have any medical supplies, so I break a glass bottle and use it to cut up one of the spare bar uniforms, hoping to make some rags to patch him up with.

But it was for nothing. Barmeese breathes his last breath, and perishes.

I was distraught, I cursed science. I cursed that fucking mime. There was nothing I could've done for him.

I do the only thing I could think of doing, and place him inside me, so he'd always be with me.

The scientist showed up to clean up the mess they made, and I accosted them. "What the fuck were you thinking?!" I plead, "Those things are always too dangerous to keep!".

"They're safe at low severities" the research director assures me.

"Until they're not!" I reply.

"Yeah..." is all he says, before walking away.

I return behind the bar, no happier. The musician, who'd just returned after the plant monster event bugs me. "Hey keep, if you want to make it easier for your mice, you should maybe ask the research director about a VIM for them."

Though science is often stingy about things like that, but i decide to test my luck. It was, after all, the research director's fault I even lost one of my mice. So I decide to make my way to the science department of the station.

I arrive, and the RD is handing something to someone. I sit and wait for them to leave, and as they do, the RD goes into the back. I walk up to the desk and ring the bell, and he returns.

I tell him about the mouse I lost because of the mishap in the bar, and I ask him if he'd be willing to make a couple of VIMs, so I don't lose my other two mice. He says he'll check.

I sit there what feels like forever. I take some more sunflower seeds from the nearby vending machine and feed the mice, and give them a drink of my water bottle. A few people show up, deliveries and such.

After that eternity, the RD returns to the desk. He tells me, "We'll call you when they're ready. They're going to be slow, sorry."

I tell him okay, and decide to head to chemistry. They occasionally make a wonder drug that grants creatures, and sometimes even inanimate objects, the ability to speak. Tragically however, they had spent the whole round making meth. So had not made any.

I sigh and return to the bar. The emergency shuttle gets called, station is a bit of a mess but it's also a long way throught the round so it makes sense. Leaves-The-Tree shows back up at the bar, having served his sentence.

He tells me "It's no secret now, I'm going to kill him." Referring to the mime he beat unconscious earlier. It's shocking, but I understand. I want to get back at him too. "I'm not someone good" he continues, "If you understand me." I did. I nodded, I wasn't going to interfere with him killing someone I hated. "I'll see what I can do." he says as he leaves. "Good seeings you."

"Good seeing you too. Stay safe." I tell him, and he left.

I get the call from science, and make my way down. Sat outside the robotics bay doors are two dainty little mechs, perfectly sized for the two mice remaining. They hop in, and take it for a little spin. They both seem excited.

I thank the research director, and I'm sure the mice do too, in their own way, and we head back to the bar.

Though the trip immediately diverts, as the escape shuttle docked right as we got back. So onto the shuttle we go.

The trip back to Central Command was actually completely uneventful. Me, Barmasse and Barmaus the Second all managed to get out safely, though I did mourn the loss of Barmeese, Barmooze, Barmisse and Barmaus the First.

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel for Cosmopolitan - July 2007

Cosmo chats with Jessica to get caught up on her funny new flick, how she of that rockin body, and what it's like having the most smokin guys on the planet after her. Hope you're taking notes. By Monica Corcoran 

Jessica Biel has been feeling particularly fearless these . "My latest thing is that I want to do everything that scares me," she says after ordering an egg, ham, and cheese sandwich with fries at a chic hotel in Santa Monica, California (a meal, it should be noted, that would induce panic in most other Hollywood starlets). The Colorado–raised 25-year-old recently got up the guts to go skydiving and conquered her fear of singing in public by belting out "Endless Love" at a piano bar in Paris. She is even thinking about traveling to Africa or Vietnam—all by herself. Taking risks has been paying off professionally too. She recently took on dramatic roles in the Iraq war film Home of the Brave and the highly acclaimed turn-of-the-century magician flick The Illusionist opposite Ed Norton and Paul Giamatti, a part she acknowledges she had to fight pretty hard for. "I don't give up easily," she says proudly. "Sometimes, you have to put yourself on the line when you want something and just hope that you don't get laughed at."

This month, getting people to crack up will be a sign of a job well done. In her new movie, the comedy I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, Jessica portrays a gay-rights attorney who ends up falling for her client, played by Adam Sandler, who is pretending to be coupled up with Kevin James's character to receive domestic-partner benefits. "Finally, I get to play the goofy outgoing girl, which is much more my real personality," she says. Case in point: She and her group of girlfriends have a tradition of getting dressed up in crazy '70s clothes and neon wigs and going roller-skating at a Los Angeles rink. The other night, they even donned the wigs to stay in and play board games. "I am just not this aloof and sexy woman," she says. Not sexy? There are maybe, oh, several million men who would disagree with that statement...starting with Derek Jeter (they were photographed frolicking on a beach in Puerto Rico this past winter), Justin Timberlake (they famously flirted at a Golden Globes after-party), and her Blade: Trinity costar Ryan Reynolds (they reportedly took their close friendship to a new level this past spring). Jessica waves off this laundry list of alleged boyfriends. In fact, she's hasn't revealed anything about her love life since splitting from her on-again, off-again boyfriend of five years, actor Chris Evans, last summer. "No matter where I go or who I see, we get linked together. All of a sudden, I'm supposedly dating someone I might have known for 10 years...or even my cousin," she says. "I don't feel the need to settle down right now And if I do meet somebody, I don't feel the need for the paperwork of marriage. A verbal agreement is enough." 

Perhaps the only thing more buzzed about than her romantic interludes is her rocking body. Today, dressed in a navy Mayle blouse, True Religion skinny jeans, and a pair of white Roger Vivier pumps (a splurge from that recent trip to Paris), it's easy to see what all the hype is about. She's curvy and superfit at the same time and not the least bit interested in being as bone-thin as some of her famous peers. "There is so much pressure to look a certain way in this town," she explains. "But it's nice to have a little meat on you, and I hope that I inspire women to appreciate their muscular calves." That's not to say Jessica doesn't work hard at looking good. To maintain her buff physique, she does yoga; walks her dog, Tina (a pit-bull-mix breed); hits the gym three or four times a week; and plays volleyball with friends on the weekends dining the summer. But when she's not training for a film, the down-to-earth beauty doesn't restrict her diet. She has a rapidly disappearing pile of french fries to prove it. ■ • She is of Choctaw American Indian, English, French, and German heritage. • Her food weaknesses are dark chocolate and pasta. • She admits that her worst habit is she cannot stop biting her nails. • In 2004, she cofounded the Make the Difference Network (MTDN.com), a Website that hooks people up with nonprofit organizations. • Her first acting job was a Pringles commercial, but she got her big break after being discovered at a modeling competition at age 11. • She doesn't know how to make coffee. • She recently took a photo-graphy class and is getting her shots of Cambodia framed to hang in her house. • She owns a cabin in Colorado and says it's her favorite place in the world

[f1]

ICYMI: Rubber ducks cat-shaped horses and traffic jams all feature in the best social media from Spa

When it rains, it pours – as the F1 drivers, teams and fans found out in Belgium at the weekend. But the weather didn’t dampen everyone’s spirits, with plenty of banter on social media amongst the teams. Here are some of the best gems you might have missed from Spa-Francorchamps… Code Name: Albono Powers Quite why Alex Albon decided he needed to turn around in a small cart on a narrow road will remain a mystery, but the Thai driver's execution of his three-point turn may well have led to a driving test fail in most countries. Logan Sargeant looked embarrassed to be associated with the travesty, which had Austin Powers written all over it. Not the best start Perhaps George Russell should have headed home when his pass didn't work at the start of a weekend he later described as "rubbish" and conceded he was glad was over. Mercedes will be glad he didn't, as he picked up valuable points for the team. At least he didn't manage to mix up the conditions and mistake the rain for anything else in Spa... READ MORE: ‘I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a weekend like this’ – Russell ‘glad’ to put Belgian GP behind him Good weather for... Speaking of the rain, there was lots of it. It might have been raining cats and dogs, but in the pit lane it was all about the humble rubber duck. Valtteri Bottas has already told the world that ducks are suited to rainy days far more than F1 cars, and his team evidently agreed. As for Mercedes, Trackside Engineering Director Andrew Shovlin could only describe conditions as 10/10. It was difficult to argue. A bunch of racers? Apparently, all that is missing at Haas – bar a points paying finish – is Guenther Steiner behind the wheel. Would the likeable Team Principal have made all the difference on Sunday? You can only imagine the radio messages – they would have made Max Verstappen's exchanges look tame. International Friendship Day Anytime Lando Norris, George Russell and Alex Albon get together, chaos normally ensues. They were on their best behaviour at the weekend, despite Albon and Norris having a battle out on the racetrack. But if you want wholesome content, this is where it was at in Spa for International Friendship Day. Childhood dreams Okay, it might have been the Sprint rather than a full Grand Prix, but who didn't like the heartwarming moment Oscar Piastri managed his first top three finish since joining the big, bad world of F1? His Dad was here to see it too, and it's clearly been a long time coming for a kid who grew up dreaming of F1. Not in this garage You have to be very brave to wear a rival's branding in the Red Bull garage, as this woman found out. Christian Horner wasn't allowing anyone to advertise the Prancing Horse on his turf, but Ferrari found a way to retaliate later on... Traffic in Sector 1 There's nothing worse than minding your own business and getting honked whilst in traffic – and it's even worse when the culprit is your team mate. Carlos Sainz was clearly impatient to get going, but unfortunately he also picked up traffic when it came to Turn 1 in the Grand Prix proper... Giddy up Horsey This one played out on social media across the weekend, as a fan desperately tried to unite Alex Albon with a hand-knitted cat called Horsey, named after his own cat – nope, us neither. The fan in question managed to get her creation to the Williams driver, who looked genuinely stoked with the new addition to his family. An unbroken streak No, no – this isn't about Red Bull's winning run. This is all about the fact the team can't keep a trophy intact, despite having had plenty of practice in handling prizes this year. This time they can't even blame Lando Norris either, contriving to break one of their trophies of their own accord whilst celebrating. Still, at least they still have some super glue on hand after the Hungarian mishap. via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

[usa2025store09]

Birmingham Bulls His Black Raffle For Fan Limited Edition Sweatshirt

Product link:http://flavorhauted.com/product/birmingham-bulls-his-black-raffle-for-fan-limited-edition-sweatshirt/

Store link:http://flavorhauted.com/

A Bold Fusion of Art and Sport: Birmingham Bulls His Black Raffle Fan Limited Edition Sweatshirt

The Birmingham Bulls, a team synonymous with grit, passion, and community spirit, have once again set the bar high with their His Black Raffle Fan Limited Edition Sweatshirt. This exclusive piece is not just a sweatshirt—it’s a statement, a collector’s dream, and a celebration of the bond between the team and its loyal fanbase. Designed to captivate, inspire, and unite, this limited-edition sweatshirt is the ultimate tribute to the Bulls and their electrifying presence in the world of hockey.

From its daring design to its impeccable craftsmanship, the Birmingham Bulls His Black Raffle Sweatshirt is a masterpiece that deserves the attention of fans, collectors, and fashion enthusiasts alike. Let’s dive into the details of what makes this sweatshirt such a standout piece.

Design: A Fierce and Daring Aesthetic

The design of the His Black Raffle Sweatshirt is unapologetically bold, combining a striking color palette with intricate details that make it a visual feast. At the center of the sweatshirt is the iconic Birmingham Bulls logo—a powerful and commanding emblem that embodies the team’s tenacity and determination. The fierce bull, rendered in deep reds and blacks, exudes strength and confidence, making it the perfect centerpiece for this limited-edition piece.

The background design is where the sweatshirt truly shines. A dynamic and chaotic mix of abstract patterns, camo-inspired motifs, and bold red accents creates a sense of energy and movement that mirrors the fast-paced action on the ice. This intricate layering of design elements gives the sweatshirt a modern and edgy vibe, making it a standout piece both on and off the rink.

Adding a personal touch, fans have the option to customize their sweatshirt with any name on the back. This feature transforms the sweatshirt into a unique and meaningful keepsake, allowing fans to showcase their individuality while celebrating their connection to the team.

Material and Comfort: A Premium Experience

While the design grabs attention, it’s the comfort and quality of the His Black Raffle Sweatshirt that truly seals the deal. Crafted from high-quality materials, this sweatshirt is a perfect blend of softness, warmth, and durability. The fabric feels luxurious against the skin, making it ideal for game nights, casual outings, or simply lounging at home.

The sweatshirt’s construction reflects a commitment to excellence. The stitching is precise and robust, ensuring that the garment maintains its shape and integrity even after repeated wear and washing. Whether you’re braving chilly weather at the arena or layering up for a day out, this sweatshirt provides the perfect balance of coziness and style.

The fit is another highlight. Designed to accommodate a wide range of body types, the sweatshirt strikes the perfect balance between relaxed and tailored. The ribbed cuffs and hem add a touch of structure, ensuring a flattering silhouette while allowing for ease of movement.

Symbolism: A Tribute to Team and Community

The His Black Raffle Sweatshirt is more than just a piece of apparel—it’s a symbol of the unbreakable bond between the Birmingham Bulls and their fans. The bold design and personalized elements reflect the team’s commitment to celebrating its supporters and fostering a sense of community.

The raffle aspect of this limited-edition sweatshirt adds another layer of significance. By participating in the raffle, fans not only have the chance to own a piece of exclusive merchandise but also contribute to a shared experience that strengthens their connection to the team. This sweatshirt is a tangible reminder of the passion and loyalty that define the Bulls’ fanbase, making it a cherished item for anyone lucky enough to own it.

Versatility: From Game Day to Everyday Wear

One of the standout features of the His Black Raffle Sweatshirt is its versatility. While it is undeniably a must-have for game days, its stylish design and high-quality construction make it suitable for a wide range of occasions. Pair it with jeans and sneakers for a casual look, or layer it under a jacket for a more polished appearance—the possibilities are endless.

The bold design ensures that the sweatshirt stands out in any setting. Whether you’re cheering on the Bulls from the stands, hitting the streets, or relaxing with friends, this sweatshirt allows you to showcase your team pride in style. Its unique blend of fashion and fandom makes it a statement piece that transcends traditional sports merchandise.

A Collector’s Dream

For fans and collectors, the His Black Raffle Sweatshirt is a true treasure. Limited-edition items like this hold a special place in the world of sports memorabilia, offering a tangible connection to unforgettable moments in the team’s history. The customization option adds an extra layer of exclusivity, making each sweatshirt a one-of-a-kind piece.

The bold design, premium quality, and personalized elements ensure that this sweatshirt will be a standout addition to any collection. Whether displayed alongside other Bulls memorabilia or worn proudly as a symbol of fandom, this sweatshirt is a testament to the team’s legacy and its fans’ unwavering support.

Final Thoughts: A Masterpiece of Design and Dedication

The Birmingham Bulls His Black Raffle Fan Limited Edition Sweatshirt is a triumph in every sense of the word. From its bold and dynamic design to its exceptional craftsmanship and deep symbolism, this sweatshirt encapsulates everything that makes the Birmingham Bulls and their fanbase so special. It’s more than just a piece of clothing—it’s a celebration of team spirit, community, and the love of the game.

Whether you’re a lifelong supporter of the Bulls, a collector of unique sports memorabilia, or simply someone who appreciates high-quality and meaningful apparel, this sweatshirt is a must-have. It’s a statement of pride, passion, and individuality, perfectly capturing the essence of what it means to be a Birmingham Bulls fan.

[second-wife-playbook]

Cori nodded. "Don't be too long okay? It looks like they're already setting up!"

The tie-downs were interesting. What Cori knew of them, usually involved roping down young hogs or wild calves...something small and fast. "I wonder what they're roping in this one?"

"BRRRROOOOO!!!!!"

Cori blinked.

Those were NOT small calves at all.

Great big wild bulls, as strong as they looked and faster than you'd think. Just keeping them in their pens was rough work as they rattled and roughed up the bars. Oh geez. Cori thought, covering her mouth in concern. If you don't tie those down quick they'll end up sending someone to the hospital....

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and guest of all the in-between!" The MC called out, a postively puny imp with a very big microphone and a comically large hat, suit festooned with sequins. "We've got us a fine line-up of gentleman cowboys for this year's volunteer rope-in! Six down home Wrathian citizens will be competing in our amateur toss-up to see who can tie down their rowdy prey the fastest! Let's give our brave, possibly-suicidal boys a big hand!"

"Oh no!" Cori groaned, looking around. "Strikers gonna miss it!"

Or....so she thought.

Gimme Shelter

@second-wife-playbook

(((continued from: )))

Striker nodded, his gaze softening as he listened to Cori.

"You're right, Cori. I didn't know ya then, and I didn't know how much I'd change."

He took a step closer, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Thank ya for understandin'. I know it ain't easy to hear, and I appreciate ya takin' it in stride. I reckon I do owe Stolas an apology, though like ya said, it ain't practical. Maybe someday, if the chance comes."

Striker sighed, the weight on his shoulders seeming a bit lighter.

"Although, in my defense, he kept makin' sexual comments when I was tryin' to do my job, so I got understandably angry."