#trying to keep straight all the different kinds of gear and what's useful for what and where to obtain it and........ AUGH

[echthr0s]

in all my talk of seeing real practical improvement in my understanding of video games, there IS one exception, and that is Guild Wars 2. it's been like 8 years now and it seems apparent that I will never fucking understand that game on anything more than a superficial/casual level. I can limp along well enough to get by in most zones -- most. -- but it seems to come at the expense of my sanity. there's just way too much going on at all times and the systems and mechanics are in-depth in a way that just makes me feel deeply exhausted when I think about trying to interact with them.

sometimes things that are objectively good are also subjectively bad. GW2 is one of my favourite games on multiple levels, I'm constantly impressed by it, I highly recommend it, and I always want to play it but why the fuck does actually playing it feel like I'm in my very own personalised Saw trap

[tizeline]

TSAU Season 1 Finale - Part 1

It's about damn time I go over the TSAU's version of the remaining season 1 finale, as well as episode 1 of season 2, so HERE WE ARE! I am too lazy to adapt the entire thing into a proper comic, especially considering several plot points remain rather unchanged from canon, so we're doing whatever this format is instead.

(You should read Cell Talk and Gearing Up before this if you haven't already)

But a quick recap, the Gearing Up comic ended with Draxum in the Dark Armour going up to the surface with Mikey to start with the whole conquering humanity thing. Raph and Leo have offically joined Team Good Guys and they, alongside Donnie, Splinter, April, Shelldon and Mayhem went after Draxum to stop his evil plans.

When they make surface, Draxum and Mikey have already started their rampage and are just kinda wrecking the baseball stadium. The Foot are also at the stadium, clearly still expecting The Shredder to show up or something. Team Good Guys (yes that's their name now) figure it's probably good to try to get whatever info about the Dark Armour they can so April and Mayhem teleport to where The Foot are to try to gather some intel that might help them in the fight against Draxum.

Meanwhile, the others start fighting Draxum and Mikey. Draxum is low-key kinda baffled that Raph just straight up switched teams lmao. Leo is one thing, but Raph has always been so loyal and responsible so it's real suprising that he's completely disobeying orders. None of the Draxum family members are really enthusiastic about fighting each other (except maybe Mikey he's kinda pissed at this point) but they engage in battle anyway. Donnie, Shelldon and Splinter are less hesitant about kicking Draxum's ass and don't really hold their punches lmao. Despite that they're kinda struggling considering both Drax and Mikey are so strong, but that's when April and Mayhem teleport back with that useful intel!

What April learned from her intel-gathering is that The Foot think there is some kind of flaw with the armour, like in canon, you know the deal. What differs from canon is exactly how that flaw occured. Turns out that Donnie when he was younger got a little bit carried away with giving Shelldon cool powerful weapons and Shelldon enced up accidentally shooting up the teapot to smithereens, oopsie! Donnie managed to reassembe it before Splinter saw, but with one of the pieces having gone missing he had to sacrifice his Atomic Lass figurine to plug up the final hole (he's still upset about that to this day btw). BUT POINT IS, like in canon this means that the armour has a obvious weakpoint and if they hit that it might be enough to knock Draxum out of the armour!

You know what happens next, they resume the fighting with this new strategy in mind and eventually they manage to get a lucky hit in and as predicted knocking out the Atomic Lass toy causes Draxum to get knocked out as well. Except YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS and you know it's not quite that easy. Lo and behold, the Atomic Lass figurine was the last thing keeping The Shredder from being resurrected, so now that it's gone? Yeah, the Dark Armour is finally completed, it slurps Draxum's life-force or whatever and then spits him out.

The Shredder is back.

... Except not entirely of course, like in canon he's acting like a wild animal attacking anything that moves, but regardless it's still a new threat they have to deal with. With Draxum being so hurt, Leo makes the decision to portal him back home, and to also send Mikey with him. Both because Draxum probably needs someone to look after him and also Leo doesn't really wanna deal with Mikey's attitude at the moment with everything else going on lmao.

From here on out the battle against Shredder begins. This too goes mostly the same way as in canon, Shredder kinda kicks all of their asses before suddenly teleporting away, and then that song and dance repeats a couple of times before Team Good Guys figure they need a better strategy. Splinter brings up how Big Mama would probably have a way to subdue Shredder, only problem is that it's BIG MAMA and he does NOT wanna go anywhere close to her. In canon Leo brought Splinter with him to BM anyway, but in the AU he kinda respects Splinter, or rather Lou Jitsu, too much to force him to come along. Instead Leo decides he and Raph will go to BM for help, while the others keep Shredder from completely wrecking New York.

The rest of the finale continues in Part 2!

[wrestlingwithlife]

(COD Monster AU)

Wow this took me way longer to do than it should have.

Monster!Task Force 141xKaiju!Reader

————————————————————————

Price’s tail flicked idly, his eyes narrowing as he sat across from Laswell. She slid a folder onto the table in front of him, its edges slightly worn.

“What’s wrong with this one?” He grunted, reaching for it, his claws grazing the paper as he flipped it open.

Laswell exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “There’s nothing wrong with him, John. It’s just... getting more dangerous out there. With you sidelined from most of these missions, I figured you could use a heavy hitter.”

“Half of this is redacted,” Price muttered, flipping to a new page, his sharp eyes scanning the censored text.

Laswell leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed. “He’s a special case,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

Price glanced up, his gaze fixed on a striking photograph of the new recruit. A man — or what seemed to be a man, though something about him felt different. A pair of piercing e/c eyes stared back at him from the image, their intensity almost unnerving.

“Shit…” Price muttered under his breath, feeling as if those eyes were staring straight through him, into something deeper.

Laswell’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You don’t come across beings like him often. The higher-ups like to keep him under lock and key, for... reasons.”

Price shut the folder with a snap, feeling a cold unease settle in his gut. “What is he?” His voice dropped low, his tone skeptical.

Laswell met his gaze evenly.

“Kaiju.”

---

The courtyard was silent for a moment, the distant sound of approaching vehicles stirring the air.

Soon, the unmistakable hum of an armored truck filled the space as it rumbled into the compound, kicking up a small cloud of dust behind it.

Two heavily armed guards emerged, their tactical gear glinting in the midday sun.

"Bloody hell," Ghost muttered under his breath, watching the truck's slow arrival. “What kind of super weapon has Laswell assigned us?”

The back of the truck was lowered with a mechanical hiss, and one of the guards moved inside while the other approached Price, holding out a fresh set of documents. The guard’s expression was tight, his posture rigid.

“Apologies for the previous file, sir. The higher-ups have certain protocols they insist on following,” the guard said, as he handed Price the new set of papers.

Gaz raised an eyebrow, wings flicking as he eyed the truck with suspicion. “Is all this really necessary?”

The first guard nodded gravely. “Transportation protocol for him, issued by his last captain. It's... standard procedure.” He paused, as if trying to choose his words carefully. “For him, it’s just safer this way.”

As the conversation waned, the truck's back doors creaked open. The guard’s partner emerged, his hands tightly gripping a thick chain that led to something inside the vehicle.

He also held a cattle prod, the prongs gleaming menacingly in the sunlight. The chain rattled with a cold, ominous sound, drawing all attention to the truck.

Then, with a slight groan of metal, a massive figure ducked out of the truck and into the light. The Task Force froze, their eyes widening at the sight of the newcomer.

The first thing that struck them was the size of the figure. A man, or something resembling one, but far larger. His skin was s/c, almost ashen, with wild, untamed h/c hair falling in waves around his broad shoulders. He was bound, a thick chain wrapped around his neck, connected to a steel collar that gleamed under the sunlight. His arms were shackled, cuffs linking his wrists in front of him.

And the final touch — a muzzle, covering his lower face, making it impossible to see his expression fully.

Y/n stood there, motionless for a moment, eyes adjusting to the light, his thick, black tail kicking up dust as it scraped across the dry ground. His presence was overwhelming, his sheer size dwarfing the guards and the rest of the Task Force. For a heartbeat, no one moved.

"Hot damn..." Soap muttered under his breath, not bothering to hide his surprise. The werewolf can’t help but feel his instincts rage at the amount of restraint the kaiju was under, fighting the urge to tear it off of him.

The second guard spoke, his voice betraying a mixture of discomfort and apology. “It’s all really unnecessary,” he admitted, passing the chain and the keys to Price. “But his last Captain... he was terrified of what he could do if he wasn’t controlled.”

Price’s gaze locked onto the hulking figure in front of him. He could feel the dragon within him stir, a primal instinct to claim this broken soldier. The eyes of the creature before him — the glowing e/c orbs — seemed to burn into him, even from across the distance. He felt a cold shiver down his spine, though he refused to acknowledge the sensation.

“No one likes being locked away like this.”

The first guard seemed to agree, shrugging slightly. “Protocol’s protocol. Can’t be helped. But he won’t be easy to control.” He turned his gaze to Y/n, who stood, unblinking, before them all.

“Seems like we’ll find out soon enough,” Price said, his voice hardening. He stepped forward, taking the keys from the guard’s hand, his eyes never leaving Y/n.

Y/n remained silent, the chain clinking softly as it swayed with his movements. The moment hung in the air — a heavy silence, thick with the weight of uncertainty and danger. Then, as if on cue, the guards stepped back, leaving Price and the Task Force to deal with the Kaiju.

Price was the first to break the silence. “Alright, then,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Let's see if you’re worth all this trouble.”

—————————————————————————

Im so sorry that this was a bit rushed and is not that great, I wanted to get the intro for this series done so I could open things up a bit for more suggestions.

I’ll let you guys have the reins a bit more for this series, but I imagine it will be a collection of one offs that have minimal timeline to it, unless that’s something you guys suggest!

~ Mwa Mwa

[takes1]

asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this was indulgent for me. asahi is def a favorite of mine. idk where the kuroo's little sister idea really stems from, but it just came to me and worked with my prompt (mostly adding conflict/humor). thirsty lead-up to some pay-off smut

warnings. asahi thirst. eventual smut. minors DNI info. lite!nsfw to future smut / gentle giant!asahi / asahi appreciation / size kink / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / 860 words / multi-part smut so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more here. part two here. part three here. final part here. more links. masterlist. my ao3. requests/submissions: open

Great, hulking muscles slammed a ferocious serve through the other side of the court. An easy point for his team.

Screams of adoration from Karasuno supporters and his own teammates echoed in your ears: Asahi.

Yeah, that was a name you could get used to screaming.

Your jaw was on the floor. Your trembly hands seized the railing to keep your wobbly body barely upright. The sigh you gave felt like it lasted minutes, so when you went to gasp for more air, it sounded like a demented groan.

"I need him biblically," You heard yourself declare.

It may have been the show of force, but there was something about a kind face attached to that weapon of a body that set your senses on fire. You were already crafting plans to seduce him after the game, making fictional arrangements to ensure you could be under him in the shortest wait time possible.

"What?" Your friend laughed at you, a hand on your shoulder to jerk you back to reality.

You were on the opposite side of the court, after all. What you could see of him was through the net.

That was not your team by any means- you were connected to the one in front of you by blood.

"Number 3," You sighed, leaning against the railing. Maybe you'd fall into the court and he could catch you in his big arms. Then, you'd start making out and--

"Yaku??" She laughed.

"No!" You made a disgusted sound, "God, not-- Karasuno number three!"

Her laughter only made you feel like talking to him was as realistic as Nekoma winning right now. With a 7-point difference, it was pretty self-explanatory.

"Yaku's not that bad," She grinned at your eyes rolling all the way back into your skull, "Hey! You've gotta calm down."

Your head was on your arms, crumpled against the railing. There was no chance in Hell you'd let this opportunity slip from your fingers.

The energy pumping through you was straight-up biological.

It was the only explanation for a need that went this deep, so strong that it carried your legs down the stands and into the hallway behind the gymnasium after the game was over.

This deranged arousal only felt out of place when your brother stopped you from moving further down, to where Karasuno was packing their gear up.

"Woahwoahwoah," Kuroo narrowed his eyes at you and spun you around by your shoulder, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He knew something was up. There was a sick scheme playing out in your eyes.

He glanced from you, to the rowdy group of giants the next space over, then back to you with a harder look.

"None of your business," You spat, thinking him funny to try to get in your way like this in front of people. He usually acted like you were the dirt on the bottom of his shoe in public.

You only went to his games to spot cute boys, anyway. This time you were actually successful and felt so inclined as to approach said-cute-boy.

"Let go," You wrenched your arm out of his gross, sweaty hand and scoffed, walking off towards Karasuno's beautiful, meaty Ace.

There was a muttered, 'Whatever,' and you knew he didn't care enough to foil your plans again. They did just lose.

The thought crossed your mind to remove your Nekoma school hoodie only after it was too late. Karasuno spotted some enemy colors and quieted upon your approach.

Any confidence you had gathered shrank tenfold-- but you locked in on the subject of your desire and remembered your divine mission.

Get railed. This week.

That wouldn't happen if you backed down now or fucked up the plan.

He was in the center of his team, so you had to give some small 'Excuse me's to get to who you were here for.

Shocked, silent looks were exchanged all around when you stopped in front of him at last.

You were gathered in a sea of players, trapped to carry out the reason that brought you here.

"Um," You found it impossible to look at his face, so you looked forward at his chest while you gathered the courage, "That was a good game."

You tried to swallow the growing need to scream when you looked up. He had facial hair, you realized- his eyes were deep brown, his skin dark tan, and he was one of the two tallest on the team.

It occurred to you that you picked the biggest, baddest guy in this hall.

You grabbed his hand and deposited a piece of paper inside, "Call me."

Unable to look at his face again, you decided that was enough to get your point across and sifted through the gathered crowd of Karasuno's team members.

With your back turned, head swimming with regret at your forwardness, you couldn't see nor understand the strangled sounds of teenage boys celebrating their cowardly ace getting a cute girl's number like that.

Pushing, pulling, laughing, shoving, and other celebratory verbalizations were far behind you when you joined Nekoma once again- your home team beyond curious as to what you did to make their rivals even louder.

taglist.

none. reply to be added!

masterlist. taking requests.

[emakataken]

Controlled Burn Part 2

Part 1

Idea: After a chance meeting at a firefighter bar, Tommy Kinard a guarded Air Ops pilot and Buck, a restless academy recruit, fall into something neither of them saw coming.

~~~

Buck stares at the ceiling, the bass from the party downstairs rattling the cracked plaster above his head.

He exhales into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. The ten-by-ten room he rents feels even smaller tonight. It smells like cheap detergent and old pizza. The mattress creaks when he twists, reaching for his phone, still warm from the shower he took.

He can still feel him, Tommy’s stubble scraping his neck, the rough drag of his large hands that knew exactly how to take and still left him wanting more.

Finally, Buck drags his phone off the milk crate he uses as a nightstand. His thumb hovers, then swipes the screen open. One message waiting.

Hey.

Simple. Waiting.

Buck swallows. He thumbs out a reply before he can talk himself out of it. I can’t get you out of my head.

He almost deletes it. Almost locks the screen and tosses the phone across the room. Instead, he breathes shallow, and hits send with a quiet, “fuck it, be honest.”

It takes a minute a long, brutal minute before his phone buzzes again. Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Something eases in Buck’s chest, loosening a knot he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He grins a little small and aching and types back before he can think too hard about it: You’re the kind of cool I used to wish I could be.

The bass thuds under his mattress. His phone buzzes again almost immediately.

You’re cooler than you think, kid.

Buck huffs a breath almost a laugh and drags a hand through his damp hair. He doesn’t know what this is. But it makes him smile.

Night, Kinard, he sends.

The reply comes quicker this time. Night, Evan.

The next night, a little past nine, Buck’s phone buzzes again. How’s it going?

Buck reads it standing in the messy kitchen of his house share. While eating straight out of a peanut butter jar with a plastic spoon. His hands are still scraped raw from a day spent running drills, scrubbing hoses and hauling ladders in the yard. His arms hum with the kind of exhaustion that feels stitched into his bones.

He taps out a reply one handed, spoon dangling from his mouth. Good. Busy.

It takes longer for Tommy to answer this time. Buck pictures him camped out by his rig, gear half-on, waiting for the next call to rip him out of whatever half-sleep he's trying to steal.

Same, Tommy sends back.

Buck leans his hip against the counter, thumb hovering. Typing. Deleting. Typing again.

Long shift? he asks finally.

The reply comes fast this time. Forty-eight. Just hit fifteen hour mark.

Buck winces. He knows what that feels like not from firefighting, but from another life, different uniforms, different dirt.

You holding up? he texts.

Tommy’s answer is a little slower this time. Alive and ugly. Same as usual.

Buck huffs a quiet laugh, sets the peanut butter down.

Bet you still look better than me, he sends back before he can think better of it.

A minute passes. Bet you’re wrong, kid.

Buck smiles too tired to keep it off his face and before he can second-guess himself, he lifts his phone and snaps a quick selfie. Messy hair. Sweat-smeared academy shirt. One black eye blooming ugly under his left brow, courtesy of McDaniel panicking during a ladder drill.

He frowns at the picture but it was too late he already hit send.

The read receipt ticks over almost instantly.

But the reply takes longer. You’re still the best thing I’ve seen all day.

Buck swallows hard. The smile tugs wider without permission. Another message buzzes through a moment later. Go to bed, Evan.

The words feel like a hand at his back, nudging him towards what he needs.

Goodnight, Kinard.

Tuesday drags by in a blur of drills and lectures and a sore elbow he doesn’t have time to ice. By the time Buck finally collapses into bed, muscles buzzing with exhaustion, his phone buzzes against the pillow.

Survive another day, kid?

Buck huffs a quiet laugh into the dark, every part of him sore and humming.

Barely. You?

It takes a little longer for Tommy to answer this time. Buck flips the phone over in his hand, thumb skimming the edge, pretending he’s not waiting.

Still breathing.

The words sit heavy on the screen. Not a joke. Not quite a comfort either. Just a truth.

Buck does the math in his head, slow and tired. Tommy’s reaching the forty-hour mark of his forty-eight. Still standing. Still breathing. Buck knows what that can cost.

The soft hum of the party downstairs. His mattress creaks when he shifts, pulling the blanket higher as he reaches for his headphones.

He thinks about typing something else something stupid, like Stay safe but his fingers don’t move.

It fizzles after that not awkward, just heavy. They’re both buried in their own shit and shifts, and Buck tells himself he’s fine with the silence.

That it’s better this way. That it’s safer not to expect anything more. He flips the phone face-down on the pillow next to him, closes his eyes,

Wednesday night, he’s halfway through a gas station dinner protein bar, trail mix, Gatorade when his phone buzzes.

His heart rate jumps as he reads Tommy's message. Wanna work out? Equinox. Say an hour?

Buck frowns at the screen, wiping his hands on his sweats. I don’t have a membership.

Got a buddy pass. La Brea location. I’ll meet you out front. Bring your gloves.

Gloves?

For the bags.

Buck’s pulse kicks up.

He checks the clock enough time to lace up his runners and escape the chaos brewing downstairs. He grabs his gear and slips into the night, restless energy sharpening into something clearer, something real.

The gym is all sleek black tile and mirrors, too polished, too LA. Buck doesn’t care. Isn't as impressed as he should be. He’s too busy searching the lobby.

Tommy leans against the front desk, casual in a fitted black tank and loose training shorts, arms crossed like he owns the place.

Buck’s mouth goes dry.

Tommy glances up and smirks. “You gonna stand there all night, or you wanna hit something?”

Buck blows out a breath. “Lead the way.”

Tommy tosses him a pair of wraps. Starts winding his own with muscle memory easy and sharp. Buck watches the flex of his forearms, the way the veins stand out under the lights.

“Ever trained before?” Tommy asks, eyes on his hands.

Buck tightens his gloves. “Yeah.”

Tommy’s gaze flicks up, assessing. “Show me,”

Buck steps up to the nearest bag and hits sharp, brutal, a fast three-piece that makes the chain rattle.

Tommy lets out a low whistle. “You don’t move like a rookie. Not even close. So you have hit something.”

Buck wipes his mouth. “Told you.”

Tommy steps in behind him, close enough that Buck can feel the heat of him. “Your form’s decent,” he murmurs, voice rough near Buck’s ear. “But you’re dropping your left.”

Buck tenses. “Yeah?”

Tommy’s hand lands on his hip, adjusting his stance with a firm tug. “Yeah.” His thumb brushes the bare skin above Buck’s waistband, just for a second. “Try again.”

Buck’s heart kicks. He hits the bag harder.

They move to the mats after that. No headshots. No cheap shots. Just sweat, grit, and quick hands.

Tommy’s good. Really good. Fast on his feet, sharp with his reads, pressing Buck just hard enough to make him forget to hold back.

By the third round, Buck’s soaked through his shirt, breathing heavy.

Tommy’s barely winded, “all your energy is going into holding back,” Tommy says, circling him.

Buck wipes his brow. “Maybe I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Tommy grins wider, wild and bright. “Try.”

The gym showers are all steam and echoing tile, water washing away the sweat from Buck’s skin. He tips his head back under the spray, the water is hot and the pressure is to die for, he closes his eyes, muscles loose for the first time in weeks.

He cracks an eye.

Tommy’s silhouette is a dark blur through the fogged glass door, close enough that Buck can hear the hitch of his breath over the water.

“You good?” Tommy’s voice is rough.

Buck exhales. “Yeah.”

Tommy creaks the door open, a few inches. His hand slides in, palm up. An offering. A challenge. A dare.

Buck knows he should hesitate. Should play it cool. But he reaches out and grips Tommy’s wrist, yanking him into the stall.

The glass shudders as the door snaps shut behind them. Tommy stumbles forward, catching himself against the tile with one hand, the other landing on Buck’s hip to steady them both.

For a second, they just breathe.

Tommy’s close enough that Buck can see the exact moment his gaze drops down his chest, over the water-slicked planes of his abs, lingering on the jagged lines of scar tissue curling around Buck’s right hip, up his ribs, sprawling out across his stomach and back.

Buck goes very still.

Tommy’s thumb brushes the edge of it a question he doesn’t voice.

“Teenage me fucking around a construction site,” Buck says, too fast. “Fell through some old flooring. Got lucky, honestly.”

Tommy’s eyes flick up, searching. He doesn’t call bullshit. But his mouth tightens just a fraction, like he’s filing away the lie for later.

He doesn’t press.

Just drags his palm up Buck’s chest slow, deliberate, grounding.

“You’re full of surprises, Recruit Buckley,” Tommy murmurs, voice almost steady.

Buck’s pulse kicks. “Yeah?”

Tommy leans in, mouth grazing the shell of Buck’s ear. “I was Army,” he says low. “10th Mountain. Then 160th SOAR.” His teeth scrape skin, almost thoughtless a brand, a warning, a confession.

Buck’s breath catches.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. The weight of it settles between them the scars they’re both not explaining. The things they’re choosing not to ask. Not to tell.

His heart thunders against his ribs. He turns his head, just enough that their mouths hover a breath apart.

“I’m a fast learner,” Buck says a little too raw, a little too young.

Tommy huffs a low laugh against Buck's lips. “Bullshit,” he murmurs. His grip tightens on Buck's hip, pressing him back against the cool tile as the warm water glides over them.

"Fast learner?" Tommy's voice drops to that low, knowing rumble. “You flinch like someone who knows what it costs.”

Buck’s pulse jumps where Tommy’s thumb presses against his carotid. “YouTube tutorials,” he lies, rough and easy.

A sharp grin flashes across Tommy's face. He drags his nose along Buck's jaw, inhaling sharply like he's trying to catch the scent of gunpowder under soap and sweat. "That a fact?"

Buck’s muscles coil, torn between pushing forward and breaking away. The stall feels suddenly too small, the air too thick. His brain frizzles.

Tommy's knee slides between Buck's thighs, pinning him in place. "Let me guess college boxing team? MMA hobbyist?" Each word punctuated with a roll of his hips.

Buck's head thunks back against the tile. His hands find purchase on Tommy's shoulders, fingers digging into the scar on the older man's collarbone the kind you only get from shrapnel or a hard landing.

"Something like that," Buck grits out. Then he kisses him, deep and claiming, and Buck lets himself forget.

They don’t talk about it. Not in the locker room. Not in the parking lot, where the night air cools Buck’s skin.

Tommy just claps him on the shoulder, a touch lingering too long to be casual. “Next week?” he asks.

Buck meets his eyes. Sees the crackling smile directed at him. The grin that melts his brain and makes him stupid. “Yeah,” Buck says.

Tommy nods like that’s that.

When Buck gets home, there’s already a text waiting.

You’re fucking lethal, kid.

Buck grins into the dark, heart hammering, feeling maybe for the first time in a long time, alive.

Part 3

[antifainternational]

Do you know where I can find and purchase antifa flags of different design choices?

YES WE DO!

The absolute best place to buy anti-fascist merch of any kind is directly from an antifa crew that is selling stuff to fund their operations.

Here’s a partial list of places we’d recommend:

The International Anti-Fascist Defence Fund (International)

La Horde (France)

Screwston Anti-Fascist Committee (Houston, TX., USA)

CRACstore (Japan)

Rose City Antifa (Portland, OR., USA)

Berkshire Antifascists (Berkshire, UK)

AFA Ireland (Ireland)

Brighton Antifascists (Brighton, UK)

Brighton Anarchist Black Cross (Brighton, UK)

AFA Nederland (Netherlands)

Antifa Sacramento (Sacramento, CA., USA)

Dywizjon 161 (Poland/UK)

161 Crew (Poland)

Hunt Sabs Association (UK)

Screwston Anti-Fascist Committee (US)

Revolutionære Antifascister (Denmark) The next-best place to get antifa gear is from shops and businesses that sell it but have a verified track record of donating the proceeds to anti-fascist crews and causes. Three we’d recommend: Fire And Flames (Germany)

Disorder Rebel Store (Germany)

No Gods No Masters (International) Sab Cat (UK) Calton Books (Scotland) Finally, there are a lot of other places you can buy antifa gear from, but sometimes it’s not clear where the money is going.  This vexes us.  We don’t think it’s right that antifa crews trying to fund their efforts have to compete with for-profit merch purveyors who just pocket the cash and don’t contribute to the movement.  If you find something you like but you’re unsure what happens with the proceeds, you’re free to straight-up ask the people selling “where does the money go?” If they give you a vague answer like “to antifa,” ask them to be specific about which groups or individuals the money goes to; then contact those groups or individuals and ask them to confirm that they receive money from the shirts sold. It’s not unheard of for people to sell stuff to “benefit” antifa but then keep all the cash to themselves, so be sure to do your research!

Sometimes you come across a shirt with a great design but the money is not going to antifa or you at least can’t be certain about it. We think it’s still fine to buy & proudly wear the shirt, because we think having a visible antifa presence on the street is important no matter where the money goes. But it’s never going to be as good of an option as making sure that the money also went back into the fight.

[venactricisfics]

Bucking Tradition: A Yellowstone Fanfic

Chapter Forty-Two

First night in Texas. 18+

Chapter List

We finally made it to Texas, and the Four Sixes came into view, sprawling wide across the horizon like something out of a dream.

“Travis ain’t here yet. We’re meeting his guy and their cowboys,” Rip said over the phone, his voice steady as always. “Just keep following us, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Alright,” Ryan and I said in unison before the line clicked off.

I pushed my sunglasses up on my face as I climbed down out of the truck, taking in the vast landscape.

The land stretched endlessly before us, rolling hills of golden grass swaying beneath a sky so big it made you feel small. There wasn’t a damn building in sight—just open space, the kind of quiet that settled in your bones and wrapped itself around you.

“Welcome to the middle of nowhere,” Jake muttered as he hopped out of the truck, stretching his back.

“Shit, this ain’t nowhere,” Walker said, adjusting his hat. “It’s just the last place anybody wants to be.”

Ryan stepped out beside me, tilting his hat back as he took it all in. “Well, it sure as hell ain’t Montana.”

“No mountains, no trees,” I murmured. “Feels naked out here.”

Rip shut his door and surveyed the land with his usual calculating expression, his face unreadable. “It’ll do. Let’s get the horses unloaded and see what we’re workin’ with.”

We all went to work, unloading the horses first, then the gear. The sun was high, and the heat was already pressing down on us, a dry heat that clung to my skin. It was a different kind of brutal than Montana’s cold, this kind wrapping itself around you like an uninvited guest. Dust kicked up with every step we took, and the only sound was the occasional call of a hawk soaring high overhead.

Teeter pulled her hat lower over her face, squinting at the endless stretch of open pasture. “I swear to God, if I see one rattlesnake, I’m packin’ my shit and leavin’.”

Jake snorted, rolling his eyes. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Teeter.”

She jabbed a finger toward him, eyes flashing. “Don’t test me. Ain’t no amount of cowboy shit worth gettin’ bit on the ass by a damn snake.”

Walker grinned, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly entertained. “Looks like we better start settin’ up camp before she talks herself right outta this job.”

Ryan nudged my side gently, his concern softening his usual rugged exterior. “You doin’ alright, baby?”

I wiped sweat from my forehead, the heat starting to settle deep in my bones. “Yeah. Just trying to wrap my head around calling this place home for a while.”

He slid an arm around my waist and kissed my temple, the simple gesture grounding me. “Home’s wherever we’re together.”

I smiled, leaning into him for a moment before Rip’s voice cut through, sharp and direct. “Alright, enough cuddlin’. We got work to do.”

With that, we saddled up and rode to where the cowboys were waiting with our cattle.

“Hey, Kory,” Rip called out to the leader of the group, his voice carrying over the distance.

“You brought Arkansas with you?” Kory’s voice was dry as he looked at Teeter.

“I ain’t from fuckin’ Arkansas,” Teeter snapped, hands on her hips, clearly ready to fire back.

“You need to stop hanging out with Travis,” I said, shaking my head with a smile.

Rip, not one for small talk, cut straight to the point. “Goddamn, the air is thick down here.”

“We like to call it oxygen,” Kory replied with a grin. “We’re not in the mountains anymore, old cowboy.”

Rip raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You can keep your oxygen, and we’ll keep our rain.”

“Never heard of it,” Kory said, his grin widening.

“Oh, it’s water that falls from the sky,” I teased, crossing my arms with a playful smile.

“Now, y’all are just making shit up,” Kory laughed, shaking his head.

“I hate that we had to send them down here before we hit the road,” Rip muttered to Kory, clearly unimpressed with the situation.

Kory shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, we all do it for a living. We’ve got your pastures to the south. I will say, though, you’re gonna get real tired of those teepees. There are motels not ten miles from here.”

“The ground’s free,” Rip said flatly. “We’re trying to cut every corner we can.”

“Well, twenty-mile-an-hour wind means the wind isn’t blowin’ here,” Kory joked, tipping his hat back.

I couldn’t help myself. “You’ve got a beautiful horse there.”

“Life’s too short to ride bad horses,” Kory replied with a nod, clearly proud of the animal at his side.

“Yes, sir,” I said, nudging my horse forward as Rip led us into the heart of the ranch.

“Let’s go to work,” Rip said, his voice steady as always.

We followed Rip through the gate and into the fenced-in area where our cows were gathered, getting ready to move them out to the south pasture.

The sound of hooves and lowing cattle filled the air as we moved into position, each of us keeping a close eye on the herd.

I could feel the presence of the Sixes cowboys around us, working alongside us now. Among them was Jimmy, looking as awkward as ever, fumbling with the reins.

“Look who it is,” Jake said with a smirk, nodding toward Jimmy. “This ranch must have one of those ‘hire the handicapped’ programs.”

“You can’t say that, Jake,” Ryan said with a mock-serious tone. “You gotta say something like ‘employment for the disabled.’”

Jake’s grin didn’t falter. “What if it’s a mental disability?”

“Not a disability,” Ryan answered, as though this was a well-worn topic. “It’s a challenge. Mentally challenged. And that’s a pretty fair description of him.” He motioned toward Jimmy, who was still struggling to control his horse.

“What if he’s just stupid? Can we still call him stupid?” Jake asked, genuinely curious.

“Only if we apply it directly to Jimmy. Anyone else, it gets tricky,” Ryan said, keeping his tone deadpan.

Teeter, who had clearly been listening in, shot them both a sharp look. “Will you two stupid motherfuckers shut up?” She shook her head, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Y’all are embarrassing yourselves.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he turned toward her. “We’re embarrassing ourselves? Record your voice one day and then listen back to it.”

“Wait till you hear me sing,” Teeter shot back, rolling her eyes.

I couldn’t help but smile, shaking my head as I looked between them. “I don’t get it,” I said. “I love your voice, Teeter.”

Ryan looked over at me, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Baby, I say this with love…” He paused for effect, his lips curling into a grin. “I think you might be mentally challenged too.”

“Probably,” I answered without missing a beat, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “I did volunteer to live in the middle of a hot-as-fuck cow pasture just to be with you.”

Ryan chuckled and reached over, giving my leg a playful squeeze. “True. Guess that’s my fault.”

As we guided the herd into the south pasture, the teasing fell into the background, replaced by the rhythm of hooves, the low hum of cattle, and the steady guidance of Rip, who remained focused on the task at hand.

With the cattle settled and Gator having unloaded the chuck wagon, it was time to set up camp. The sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the pasture as everyone got to work. Jimmy had lingered behind, seemingly eager to catch up a little.

“I saw a dragonfly out there big as my fucking head,” Jimmy said, still slightly in shock.

Walker barely looked up from adjusting his saddle. “They say out here, ‘big enough to fuck a turkey flatfooted.’”

Teeter let out a cackling laugh, slapping her knee.

Jimmy blinked. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Before anyone could answer, Rip’s voice cut through the air. “Jimmy, you’re missin’ your ride.”

Jimmy glanced around, confused. “I came out here with Kory.”

Rip cocked his head toward the dust trail Kory was already kicking up in the distance. “He’s leavin’.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jimmy muttered, scrambling to mount his horse.

“Sprinkle some andale on it,” Walker said with a smirk.

“He’s doin’ okay,” I offered, watching Jimmy finally take off.

Jake shook his head. “Hope he can haul ass.”

“Oh, shit,” Teeter wheezed as Jimmy took off in a half-panicked gallop.

“They grow up so fast,” I mused, watching him disappear over the ridge.

“You gotta cherish the moments when they’re young,” Jake added solemnly.

“Capture every milestone,” Ryan said, nodding. “Lots of pictures.”

Rip turned his attention back to us, already moving toward his truck. “Alex, I’m headin’ to town for supplies. You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

I straightened, giving a quick nod. “Alright. Let’s get the trailer unloaded and the tents set up.”

Ryan leaned in with a grin. “This feels like nepotism, baby.”

Jake frowned. “The fuck does that mean?”

I turned to him, smirking. “He’s sayin’ I only got the job ‘cause my daddy’s the boss or ‘cause Rip’s my brother-in-law.”

Jake nodded slowly, as if considering it.

“That is what you’re sayin’, right, cowboy?” I quirked a brow at Ryan.

“Of course not, baby.” Ryan’s grin widened as he tugged the brim of his hat. “You’re crashin’ right through that glass ceilin’.”

Teeter snorted. “Yeah, right into a pile of cow shit.”

As we started unpacking the trailer and the bed of my truck, Walker leaned against a fence post, watching us work with that thoughtful expression he got sometimes.

“Y’all think about this,” he mused, gaze sweeping over the open land. “Quanah Parker rode right through here. I mean, right here. Dropped down into Palo Duro Canyon, came up the Llano Estacado. Led the damn cavalry runnin’ in circles. Hell, I bet the pioneers out here got lost in circles, too. ‘Cause if they didn’t, they’d have died of thirst or just gone mad.

“This land don’t care enough about you to be cruel,” he continued. “It’ll just forget you. Forget you ‘til you disappear.”

I shoved a roll of tent fabric into his chest. “Yeah, real poetic. Now get out of the way so we can set up camp.”

Walker smirked, stepping aside. “Sure thing, Alex.”

The Texas night was impossibly still, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you were the only person left in the world. The stars stretched endlessly above us, like a canvas splattered with silver paint, so bright they almost hurt to look at. There was no fire tonight—not with the drought making the land tinder-dry—just the soft hum of cicadas and the occasional hoot of an owl. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of earth and sagebrush, and the faint tang of sweat from a long day’s work.

Ryan draped an arm around my shoulders, leaning back with a sigh. “I’ve never camped without a fire before.”

“Yeah, well,” Jake muttered, shifting in his seat, “we start one out here, we’ll set the whole damn county on fire.”

“I know that, Jake, I’m just sayin’—Ow! What the fuck?!”

Ryan shot up, yanking his shirt open. In the dim light, I caught a glimpse of something dark skittering down his chest before he flung it to the ground.

“What the fuck was that?”

Teeter let out a chuckle before stomping on it. “That’d be a scorpion.”

“Oh, shit,” I breathed, leaning in to inspect the spot on Ryan’s chest where the creature had struck. The skin was already red and swollen, angry-looking in the faint starlight.

“Does it hurt?” Jake asked.

Ryan gaped at him. “Fuck, yeah, it fucking hurts!”

Walker smirked, shaking his head. “That’s a little ‘welcome to Texas’ for ya right there.”

I ducked into the tent, grabbing ointment from my bag before kneeling beside Ryan. “Here, let me put this on it.” My fingers smoothed the ointment over his skin, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Better?” 

He exhaled, his gaze softening as he looked down at me. “Yeah... much better.”

Walker rested his guitar on his lap, fingers idly strumming a few notes. “What do y’all wanna hear?”

“Nothing sad,” Teeter said immediately.

“And don’t play anything about love,” Rip added, his tone flat.

Jake scoffed, tipping his hat back. “That’s why I stay single. He can sing whatever the hell he wants, and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

Walker smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Even if it’s about a lazy cowboy who can’t rope for shit?”

Laughter rippled through the group, and even Ryan managed a grin despite the sting on his chest.

“What the hell y’all pickin’ on me for?” Jake protested.

“Play the Jake song,” I said, grinning as I laced my fingers through Ryan’s.

Walker chuckled, shaking his head as he settled into the rhythm. “All right, here we go.”

The guitar filled the night, the melody warm and familiar. I leaned in to whisper against Ryan’s ear, my breath tickling his skin. “You ready to turn in for the night?”

His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile that sent a shiver down my spine. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Behind us, Teeter groaned. “They’re gonna fuck like goddamn rabbits the whole time we’re here, ain’t they?”

Walker chuckled, watching us slip into the tent. “Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

Ryan secured the tent flap, making sure no unwanted guests—human or otherwise—would join us in our sleep. I’d taken my time setting up the tent, making it as cozy and warm as possible. If this was going to be our home away from home for a while, it damn sure wasn’t going to feel like roughing it.

I’d upgraded the standard bedrolls to a double high-end inflatable mattress—because if I was spending my honeymoon in a tent for a year, it was gonna be in style. Fluffy blankets and pillows were spread across it, turning the space into something soft and inviting. The bedrolls were still in the truck, just in case, but I had no intention of using them unless absolutely necessary.

“Baby, I feel a little guilty being this comfortable while the guys are practically sleeping on the ground,” Ryan said, kicking off his boots.

I smirked, slipping out of my jeans. “I’m sure you could trade spots with any one of them, and they wouldn’t complain.”

He quirked a brow, his hands finding my hips as he pulled me close. “Have one of them share a bed with you? They’d be out the second your cold-ass feet touched them in their sleep.”

I let out a soft laugh, my arms sliding around his neck as I straddled his lap. “My feet wouldn’t be cold if you didn’t hog the blanket.”

Ryan’s smirk was outright devilish now. “Guess I gotta give you a reason to cuddle up next to me.” His hands moved under my shirt, his touch electric against my skin.

“I already have plenty of reasons,” I murmured, my lips brushing his.

The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration of heat and want, but it didn’t stay that way for long. His tongue swept against mine, and I let out a soft moan, my fingers tangling in his hair. The world outside the tent faded away, leaving only the two of us and the urgency building between us.

Ryan’s hands pushed my shirt over my head in one swift motion. His breath hitched as he took me in, his gaze dark and hungry. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with need.

I shivered under his gaze, my skin tingling with anticipation. “Then show me how much you want me,” I whispered, my voice trembling just slightly.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands were everywhere—on my hips, my waist, my breasts—and his mouth followed, leaving a trail of fire across my skin. I arched into him, my breath coming in shallow gasps as his teeth grazed the sensitive curve of my neck.

“Ryan,” I breathed, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes burning with a need that matched my own. “Tell me what you want,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

I met his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. “I want you. All of you.”

His lips crashed into mine, and the world exploded into heat and sensation. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, and I gave myself over to it completely. There was no thought, no hesitation—just the two of us, lost in each other.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Ryan groaned, his breath hot against my ear as he pushed inside me.

I clung to him, my nails digging into his back as I gasped his name. Every movement, every touch, sent sparks racing through my veins, and I could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until I was sure I would shatter.

“Ryan, I—”

Ryan’s lips swallowed my moans as we moved together, our bodies perfectly in sync. The world outside the tent faded into nothing—no wind rustling the trees, no distant laughter from our friends, no thoughts beyond the heat building between us.

Ryan’s hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he flipped me onto my hands and knees. The sudden change left me breathless, anticipation shivering through me as I felt the cool air kiss my skin. He took his time, his touch lingering, tracing the curve of my back, the dip of my waist, the swell of my hips like he was committing every inch of me to memory.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with something deeper than just desire. It was worship, devotion, an unspoken promise in the dark.

A tremor ran through me as he leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “I need you,” he admitted, his tone raw, like the words had been waiting to slip free.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, to see the vulnerability hidden beneath the hunger. “Then take me,” I whispered.

He did.

The first slow press of him inside me sent a gasp tumbling from my lips, my fingers gripping the blankets beneath me. He moved deliberately, each thrust measured, teasing me with restraint even as his grip on my hips tightened. It wasn’t just about need—it was about us, about savoring every second.

I arched into him, pushing back, silently pleading for more. “Ryan…” My voice trembled, thick with want.

He groaned, his fingers sliding up my spine before tangling in my hair, gently pulling my head back. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips pressing against my shoulder, my neck, the shell of my ear. “Just feel me.”

And I did. I felt everything—the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he fit so perfectly against me, inside me.

When he finally gave in, picking up the pace, it was overwhelming. His thrusts grew deeper, rougher, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the tent. Every snap of his hips sent pleasure spiraling through me, winding me tighter and tighter until I was on the edge of something vast and consuming.

“Ryan—” My voice caught as his hand slid between my thighs, his fingers finding that bundle of nerves and working me toward the inevitable.

“I know, baby,” he rasped, his own breath uneven, his body trembling with restraint. “Cum for me.”

His words pushed me over. The pleasure hit like a crashing wave, stealing my breath, my thoughts, everything but him. I cried out, gripping his wrist as my body clenched around him, pulling him deeper into my release.

“Fuck—” Ryan’s rhythm faltered, his own control slipping as he followed me over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time, his moan breaking into a ragged groan as he spilled inside me, his body shuddering against mine.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, tangled in each other, our breaths mingling in the space between us. Then he eased out of me carefully, collapsing beside me and immediately pulling me into his arms.

I melted into him, my skin still buzzing, my heart still racing.

Outside, the distant strumming of Walker’s guitar hummed through the quiet night, but inside the tent, it was just us—just the warmth of his body wrapped around mine, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek, and the unspoken truth settling between us.

Ryan’s hand traced gentle patterns on my back, the touch soothing, a quiet comfort that grounded me in the moment. The silence between us was thick with unspoken words, emotions exchanged in every brush of his fingers, in the steady beat of his heart against mine. I closed my eyes, letting the peace of his embrace wash over me, feeling cherished in a way that went beyond words.

But then, his hand dipped lower, a teasing brush of his fingers against the curve of my ass, and I felt that familiar spark ignite. Desire flared in me again, quick and sharp. His lips kissed the tender skin of my neck, trailing down to my shoulder as his hand moved to my thigh, squeezing gently. The heat of his touch was a reminder of how much I craved him.

I laughed softly, turning my head to meet his gaze. “You’re insatiable.”

He grinned, his eyes smoldering with that dangerous hunger I couldn’t resist. “Only for you, baby. Only for you.”

And just like that, the fire between us reignited. The world outside the tent, the heat of the Texas night, all of it faded into the background as Ryan’s hands roamed, his lips leaving a trail of heat across my skin. He flipped me onto my back, settling between my legs with a determination that matched his need.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low and intense as he kissed his way down my body, his words reverberating through me, sending a shiver down my spine.

A soft moan escaped me as my hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer, needing him. Each kiss, each slow tease, pulled me closer to the edge, like a wave gathering strength. The pleasure was building, steadily, until it felt like it would consume me. And when he finally pushed inside me again, the feeling was familiar and comforting. It was like coming home. He was everything I needed. 

We moved together, our bodies in perfect harmony, the rhythm of our lovemaking a dance of passion and devotion. Each breath we took seemed to sync with the other, and Ryan’s eyes never left mine. His gaze was steady, filled with love and intensity, holding me captive as he whispered sweet nothings against my lips.

“I love you,” he breathed, his voice a tremor of emotion, raw and vulnerable as he thrust deeper.

The words felt like they were meant for me alone, like a promise I’d hold onto forever. “I love you too,” I gasped, my voice shaky as the pleasure wrapped around us, threatening to consume me.

And then, we came together—bodies, hearts, souls—entwined in a moment of perfect union. The world outside faded into nothing, leaving only us, a single heartbeat that echoed between us.

As we lay there, breathing in sync, wrapped in each other’s arms, I knew this night, this connection, would stay with me forever. It was more than just the physical act. It was about trust, about being completely vulnerable, and about feeling home with him.

But even as the pleasure began to ebb, the need between us remained—undeniable, constant. Ryan’s hand brushed against my thigh, sending a fresh spark of desire through me. His lips found mine once more, soft and slow, as if savoring every moment, every taste, before pulling me back into the warmth of his embrace.

—-

I groaned feeling Ryan shift from under me. The scents of coffee mixed with bacon filled my nose. 

“I’ll go saddle the horses,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to my temple, “give you a little more time to get dressed.”

“Have I told you how much I love you?” I pulled him back to me. 

“Oh you said it a lot last night, baby,” he pushed a strand of hair from my face looking down at me with that perfect grin of his, “loudly.” 

“Shut up,” I groaned. “Why do you have to look so perfect before the sun even comes up?”

Ryan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Guess I’m just lucky," he said, his grin never fading. "But I can’t help it if you get the best version of me."

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "I swear, you’re impossible."

"Impossible?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing. "I think you mean irresistible."

“Sure, whatever you say, cowboy,” I teased, pushing at his chest playfully.

He laughed softly and kissed me again, this time slower, more lingering. “Get dressed, and I’ll have the horses ready for you.”

“Fine,” I groaned, but the warmth in his kiss lingered, chasing away the remnants of sleep. As he headed toward the tent flap, I couldn’t help but smile to myself, feeling lucky in my own right to have him beside me.

Once I was alone, I took in the peace of the morning or as everyone else would call it, the middle of the night. It was still dark out. But the day was coming. The cattle were waiting in the field. 

I stretched and dressed before heading out of the tent. I glanced out in the distance. Jake, Walker, and Ryan were saddling the horses. Gator was at the chuckwagon, preparing coffee and breakfast. 

“No cold brew this morning, I’m afraid, Ms. Alex,” Gator told me as I settled into the camp chair. 

“I guess I really am going to be roughing it,” I offered him a smile, “At least you’re here,” I looked out, “And he’s here. So I can’t complain to much.”

“I’ll remind you of that after a few weeks and the novelty of all this has worn off,” he said back. 

I chuckled and shook my head. I leaned back in the chair, watching the guys work with the horses, their movements fluid and practiced. There was something about the simplicity of the scene that made everything feel grounded, like I was part of something bigger. 

Ryan glanced up from his horse, his eyes locking with mine for a moment. His lips pulled into that familiar, easy smile that made my heart skip a beat, even after everything. He nodded toward the horses, then turned back to his work, but I could see the quiet satisfaction in his movements. He was in his element.

Gator set a steaming mug of coffee beside me, breaking my moment of quiet reflection. He prepared it with just the right amount of cream and sugar. Like he’d been doing for as long as I drank coffee. 

“Thank you,” I said as I took the first sip, eyes never wavering from the cowboy I loved with my whole being.

“Mornin’ Gator,” the guys said as they made it over to the chuck wagon. 

Ryan reached for my cup taking a swig, “Still too damn sweet.” 

“Next time get your own,” I looked up at him with a smile, “I love you.”

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he said. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m serious, you’re lucky I make it this sweet for you.”

Ryan smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Lucky? Nah, I’d say you’re just trying to keep me close, making sure I need you for more than just the obvious reasons.”

“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow, my lips curling into a playful grin. “Maybe I just want you around for the coffee refills.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. “I can give you more than just refills, baby.”

I felt a shiver run through me at his words, but I managed to keep my composure. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, though my heart swelled with affection for the cowboy who knew exactly how to make me smile.

Gator, overhearing the exchange, gave a mock groan. “Lord, if you two don’t stop, I’m gonna have to take my coffee elsewhere.”

The guys all chuckled, but I could see the familiar camaraderie in their eyes, the easy comfort of years spent together. It was a good feeling, being part of something like this, surrounded by the people who knew you best.

Ryan winked at me before turning to join the others at the chuckwagon filling his tin cup. 

“Where’s Teeter?” Rip asked, scanning the group. He noticed right away that she was missing.

“I haven’t seen her,” Ryan replied, looking around as well.

Rip raised an eyebrow, then slowly started toward her tent. “Teeter?” he called out, a little more urgently. When there was no answer, he unzipped the tent flaps and poked his head inside. “What’s wrong?”

From inside, Teeter’s weak voice responded, barely above a whisper, “Rattlesnake.”

Rip’s eyes narrowed, his instincts kicking in. He swiftly entered the tent, and I could feel the tension building, the air thick with an unspoken danger. Moments later, Rip emerged holding the snake by the neck, its body coiled in his grasp. The rattling sound filled the air, and the rest of us froze in place, eyes locked on the deadly creature.

“Get over here!” Rip shouted, his voice low and commanding.

“Shit,” Walker muttered, quickly rushing over to Rip. “Hold it on the ground.”

Rip pressed the snake down with surprising ease, keeping it still as Walker’s boot came down on the reptile’s head, pinning it in place. The quick, decisive motion of the knife slicing through its body sent a shudder through the group.

“That was in your tent?!” I blurted out, my voice shaking as I looked from Teeter to the dead snake lying in the dirt, the rattle still twitching slightly.

“It was in my bedroll,” Teeter muttered, her voice tight with lingering fear. “On my fucking chest.” She leaned over, catching her breath, her body still trembling from the shock.

“You are one lucky cowpuncher,” Jake commented, his tone half-worried, half-amused.

Teeter wiped her hand across her forehead and let out a shaky laugh. “So when they talk about sleeping with serpents in the bible,” she said, her voice edged with disbelief, “Hell does that mean?”

Rip’s voice cut through the tension, firm and direct. “It means you left your flap open,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “You weren’t under your canvas. This ain’t Montana, and you can’t fucking sleep under the stars out here. You need to zip your tent tight, you got me?”

Teeter lowered her head, a little sheepish. “Yes, sir,” she muttered.

Walker, ever the practical one, grabbed the rattlesnake’s tail and sliced off the rattle with his knife. He handed it to Teeter, his lips curling into a smirk. “Here, put that in your hatband and tell everyone how you cheated fate.”

“You might’ve used up all your luck on that one, Teeter,” Jake added, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“Fuck, I hope not,” Teeter grumbled, shaking her head. “We just got here.”

Rip didn’t waste time. “Alright, you gotta go back in there and make sure there ain’t anymore.”

Teeter’s face went pale. “You think there’s more?” she gasped, her voice a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“These things seek heat,” Rip said bluntly, his gaze hard. “And you left the front door open. You’re goddamn right I think there could be more. Now go on and get in there.”

Teeter grabbed a branding iron and slowly shuffled back toward her tent. Her hand shook slightly as she moved through her things, searching for any sign of another snake. “Fuck, there’s another one,” she suddenly yelled, backing away quickly from the opening.

Ryan, shining his flashlight across the camp, turned toward us with a grim look. “Guess what,” he said, his voice sharp. “Here’s another one.”

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as the light illuminated a snake, slithering dangerously close to where I’d been sleeping. Instinctively, I pulled my feet up into my seat, hoping it would somehow save me from the danger.

“Damn, boys,” Walker muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “We’re camped on a den.”

“Gator,” Rip barked, his tone sharp. “Get your ass over here.”

Gator ambled over, a curious look on his face. Rip gestured toward the snake. “You see that?”

“You want me to cook that thing up?” Gator asked, his usual irreverence shining through.

“No, I don’t want you to cook it up,” Rip grumbled, rolling his eyes at Gator’s ridiculous suggestion.

“They’re pretty good if you fry ‘em,” Gator replied, clearly undeterred by Rip’s attitude.

Rip wasn’t in the mood for Gator’s jokes. He knelt down, lifting the edges of the tents and peering under them. “Shit, it’s an old prairie dog town,” he muttered, before turning back to Gator. “You camped us on a fucking snake den.”

“This time of year, they den up,” Walker pointed out, his tone resigned.

Rip exhaled sharply, straightening up. “We’ll wait for the sun to rise, then we’ll break camp. You just watch where you’re walking. They are fucking everywhere.”

“I’m staying right fucking here until the sun comes up,” Teeter said firmly, climbing into the bed of the truck. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” I said, my voice steady despite the tension. I looked over at the three dead snakes, my stomach still unsettled. “I’m right here with you.”

“I ain’t gonna call y’all nothing but smart,” Jake said with a grin, following us into the truck.

“Had dumber ideas,” Ryan added, moving to join us in the truck bed.

As if on cue, Gator swung his ax and sliced the head off yet another snake.

“Is that another one?” I exclaimed, my heart racing as I stared at the latest victim.

“I swear, these things are real good once you fry ‘em up,” Gator said, completely unfazed by the chaos around him. “Taste like alligator.”

“That’s another thing I don’t want to see,” Ryan called back over his shoulder. “Or eat.”

Teeter and I exchanged a look, both of us silently agreeing that we were more than ready for the sun to rise. The last thing any of us wanted to deal with was another snake.

The sun beat down on us as we broke camp and set up in a new location, far from the old prairie dog town and the snake den. The heat of the day was relentless, but at least there were no more rattlesnakes to worry about. Or so we hoped.

Teeter and I were still on edge, both of us glancing around like paranoid hawks. Every rustle of the grass made us jump. I caught her eye as she crouched low, her hand carefully brushing through the blades of grass near her tent.

"Don't you think we’re a little overboard with the snake-checking?" I asked, trying to laugh it off, but the tension in my voice gave me away.

Teeter didn't look up, her gaze fixed on the ground. "You know what they say—once bitten, twice shy," she muttered, swiping at another patch of dirt. "I’ll never be the same after today. Might as well keep checking until we leave this godforsaken place."

I couldn’t help but laugh at her grim determination. "You’re the only one I know who’d get attacked by a snake in her own damn bedroll and still be worried about missing one in the grass."

She glanced up at me, her eyes a little wild from the nerves. "You just don’t get it, do you? It was on my chest, Alex. My chest! There’s no way I’m trusting this ground again without a good look first."

I sighed, feeling the same sense of unease creep up my spine. "I hear you. But we're not exactly gonna find any peace if we keep searching every inch of this place. Let’s just… breathe. The snakes are gone, and the sun’s up."

"Yeah, but it doesn’t mean they’re not still out there," she shot back, still checking around her tent.

I walked over and knelt beside her, running my fingers through the grass gently. "You know Rip’s right, though. We can't keep living like we're still back there, watching our backs for every snake that slithers by."

Teeter sighed deeply, finally sitting back on her heels. "I know. But if I find another one, I swear I’ll burn the whole place down."

I chuckled despite the situation. "Then you’d have to explain that to Rip, and we both know how he feels about unnecessary fires."

Teeter shot me a sideways look. "Rip’s lucky I didn’t burn the camp down last night. Could’ve sworn I saw more snakes than just those three."

“Well, you’re not seeing any now,” I said, standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants. "Let’s just get things settled. We’ll be okay."

Teeter hesitated for a moment, then finally stood as well, stretching her back. "Yeah, alright. But if one more snake pops up, I’m riding outta here myself."

I grinned, nodding. "Deal. But I think we’re safe for now."

The rest of the crew was busy finishing setting up their tents and gear, trying to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But I knew better. None of us were quite as comfortable as we had been before, and the memory of the rattlesnake still lingered in the air like a shadow.

“This looks exactly like where we were,” Jake said.

“Yeah, you wander around in circles 'till you curl up and die,” Walker repeated with a smirk, adjusting his hat as he surveyed the land.

I didn’t have time to dwell on the irony of their exchange. There was a lot more at stake than getting lost. I made my way over to Rip, who was crouched down, carefully checking over a horse that had wandered too close to one of the snakes. Its leg was twitching slightly from the shock.

"You got that dex and Banamine?" Rip asked, not looking up but knowing I’d come prepared.

"Yeah, I got them both." I pulled the syringes from my pocket, the cool metal gleaming in the sunlight.

Rip nodded, satisfied. "Good."

I walked over to the horse’s side, running my hand gently along its neck, trying to calm it down. The animal’s breathing was erratic, and its eyes wide with fear. I found the spot just behind the shoulder, where I could inject the medication without too much difficulty. The horse’s skin twitched under my fingers as I slowly pressed the needle in.

"Good boy," I whispered to the animal, hoping the soothing tone would help him stay calm. As I finished with the injections, I pulled a couple slices of apple from my pocket, holding them out for the horse to nibble from my palm. The sweet scent of the fruit seemed to help settle him further, and after a moment, I could see the tension in his muscles begin to ease.

Rip stepped back, giving me a nod of approval as he turned to assess the rest of the camp. “You’re good with them. You should’ve been a vet instead of a rancher.”

“Anyone ever tell you, you sound just like my dad?” I chuckled, gently patting the horse’s neck as I stood up. “But I like the open air a little too much for that. Plus, I don’t think I’ve got the stomach for all that cutting and stitching.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got the touch,” Rip said, glancing over at me with a half-grin before he refocused on the camp.

“He’s gonna be down a couple weeks at least,” I told him. “Should we call Lloyd, have him send some more horses down?” 

“No, we can’t afford the haul,” Rip said, “I’ll borrow one here. Maybe help them out with their two-year-olds in trade.” 

Ryan walked up to us, looking at the slick black car pulling up the road, “Who is that?” 

“I don’t know maybe the oil company,” Rip responded barely looking up from his horse.

“That,” I chuckled recognizing the black Bentley, “is my sister.”

Rip looked again this time, really looking, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Beth stepped out of her car, lookied at Rip, and raced towards him.

“Jesus Christ, Beth,” Rip muttered. “How the hell did you find me out here?”

“I put a tag in your wallet,” she responded. 

“You did what?” he asked. 

“Air tag,” she said, “It’s a GPS tracker.” 

“You didn’t put one of those on me too, baby?” Ryan asked. 

“Damn, right,” I smirked, “gotta know where you are every fucking second.” 

I could see Rip’s face harden as he stared at Beth, still in shock from what she had just revealed. “You put a tracker in my wallet?” Rip repeated, his voice low, disbelief mixing with a hint of frustration.

Beth didn't seem fazed, though. She simply crossed her arms and shot Rip a defiant look. “It’s not like you ever check in. Figured I’d do it myself.”

Ryan chuckled again, walking closer to me as he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I’ll let you keep track of me, baby, but only if I get the same privilege.”

I gave him a sidelong glance, a smirk playing at my lips. “You’ve got it.”

Rip turned away, still visibly irritated by Beth’s antics, while she continued to stand her ground, clearly enjoying the chaos she had stirred up. The tension between them was palpable, but it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it. The Duttons didn’t do subtle when it came to family drama.

Beth’s eyes flicked back to Rip as she crossed the dusty ground toward him. “I know you hate it, but I’ll keep an eye on you whether you like it or not.”

Rip met her gaze, finally shaking his head with a quiet, resigned chuckle. “You’re something else, Beth.”

She smiled, the corners of her lips curling into a smirk. “You know you love it, Rip.”

“Not sure I’d go that far,” Rip muttered, but there was a spark in his eyes that told me otherwise.

As Beth moved closer to him, the air thick with unspoken words, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much more of this complicated family dynamic we’d be facing before things calmed down. One thing was for sure—wherever we went, trouble always seemed to follow.

“I can’t help that I’m a romantic,” Beth said with a teasing grin, her eyes glinting as she glanced up at Rip.

Rip shook his head and smiled down at her, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to soften the tension in his expression. “Honey, I promise this is not a place for you. This isn’t camp by a stream with a nice fire and a good bottle of whiskey. This is suffer and survive. You will hate it here.”

Beth just laughed, clearly unfazed. “Well, that is why I got us a hotel in Amarillo,” she shot back, her lips curving into a confident smile.

Rip blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Honey, I can’t leave the boys out here working their asses off while I go sit in an air-conditioned hotel room. That’s not happening.”

Beth’s smile didn’t falter as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small piece of paper, waving it in front of him. “Suite, baby,” she said, her tone playful but laced with her usual no-nonsense confidence. “We got a suite.”

Rip looked like he was trying to figure out if she was serious or not, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ok, well, do you understand how this makes me look? I can’t be in town, kicking back, while they’re busting their asses out here doing the work.”

“One night, Rip,” Beth said, her voice softer now but with that same underlying confidence. “Besides, I came to see my sister too. So, you can either deal with it for a few hours, or we can sit in that damn suite and make this thing work.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, surprised. “Me? You came to see me?”

Beth shot me a look that could only be described as mischievous. “You’re the only sister I’ve got. And we need to talk.”

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “Nothing good ever comes after those words.”

“Don’t fucking grumble,” she said, her tone sharpening as she leveled a pointed look at me. “It’s not bad. It’s business.”

“Business?” I quirked an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “Since when do you need my help with business?”

Beth didn’t hesitate, diving straight into her pitch. “When it’s about cattle,” she said with a knowing look. “I know money and how to make it. But you know cattle and what it might take to make this work.”

I was still skeptical but intrigued. “I’m listening,” I said, tilting my head slightly as she continued.

She explained how she’d recently been talking to the guy at Four Sixes about their direct-to-consumer beef business. Apparently, they sold so much beef that they actually ran out of cattle and started selling some from neighboring ranches to keep up with demand.

“This is something we can do,” she said, leaning forward with that familiar spark in her eyes. “Dad wants the Yellowstone name to be out there. This is how we do it. How we save the ranch. Get our name known beyond just the cattle auctions.”

I didn’t take long to think it over. “We’d need to work out slaughtering and processing,” I said, my mind already racing through the logistics. “But it could work. Hell, it could make a whole lot more money than just selling cattle at auction.”

Beth nodded, a satisfied glint in her eyes. “Exactly. And we’d be able to control the product from start to finish, get premium prices for our beef, and make sure that Yellowstone is known for more than just its land and cattle. We could turn it into a brand. A legacy.”

Rip, who had been standing to the side, now turned back to us, his attention caught. “That’s a big step, and it’s gonna take a hell of a lot of work. But... it’s got potential.”

“Yeah, it does,” I agreed, feeling the weight of the idea settle in. “It’s risky, but it might be exactly what we need to keep this ranch going.”

Beth gave me a small, satisfied smile. “You think Dad would go for it?”

“Let’s just say I know how to talk him into it,” I said, knowing full well that convincing John Dutton would take more than just a good plan. It would take strategy and persistence—things Beth had mastered over the years.

Rip gave a low chuckle, shaking his head as he looked at Beth. “I’ll believe it when I see it. But if anyone can get John Dutton to put his stamp on this, it’s you.”

“Damn right,” Beth said, crossing her arms and looking between the two of us. “Now, let’s get to work.”

“You’ll need money to invest in it,” I said, “Let me know how much you need to get this started.”

She quirked a brow, “I thought you spent all your money on Dad’s rodeo horses.”

I shook my head, “Why does everyone underestimate how much what I do can make?” 

“How much are we talking?” she asked. 

“After I pitched in half for the horses and paid upfront for three months here,” I told her, “I still have about 45.”

“We can do something with forty-five thousand,” she said, “it’s a start. Plus what I’m able to invest. We can get a loan for the rest.” 

“Not forty-five thousand, Beth,” I told her, “forty-five million.” 

Beth blinked at me, her gaze narrowing as she processed what I’d just said. For a moment, I could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to make sense of the numbers. Then, slowly, her lips parted as she let out a low whistle.

“Forty-five million?” she repeated, as if the number needed repeating to sink in. “And you’re telling me you have this just sitting around?”

I didn’t flinch. “I don’t keep it ‘sitting around,’ Beth. It’s working for me. Real estate, livestock, some strategic investments. I’ve been building it for a while now. You didn’t think I was just sitting on my ass, did you?”

Her eyes shifted over to Rip, who was still standing by the horse, clearly interested in the direction this conversation was taking. “So, you’re telling me you have forty-five million in liquid assets right now?” Beth asked again, her tone softening, as if suddenly realizing the weight of what I was offering.

“I do,” I confirmed. “It’s not all in cash, but it’s there in property, shares, things like that. I can move it around if we need to make this happen. But I’m not throwing all of it into this without seeing a solid plan.”

Beth’s lips curled into a smile, the kind I hadn’t seen on her in a long time. The kind that said she was ready to get to work. “This is big, Alex. Damn big. We can make something out of this. We’ve been sitting on a goldmine, and now we’ve got the key to unlock it.”

“I’m not giving you full access to all of it,” I added, my voice hardening a little. “You’re my sister, but I’m not stupid. We’ll do this together, but I’m making sure we both stay in control of it. I want to see the numbers, the business plan, the whole thing.”

Beth nodded, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Fair enough. I wouldn’t want it any other way. But with this kind of capital, we can take this ranch to places we’ve never imagined. Direct-to-consumer beef, premium cuts, Yellowstone branding. We can sell it all—steaks, burgers, even jerky. It’s a lifestyle. Not just a business.”

Rip, who had been quietly watching this exchange, now spoke up, his voice low and steady. “That’s a hell of a lot of money to risk. But it’s also a hell of an opportunity. If we can pull it off, this ranch won’t just survive—it’ll thrive.”

I looked over at Rip, then back at Beth, feeling the weight of the decision settle on my shoulders. “You sure you’re ready for this, Beth? It’s not going to be easy. This isn’t about pretty branding and quick cash. It’s about sweat, work, and patience. The last thing we need is a failed business venture dragging us down.”

Beth didn’t hesitate. “I’ve been ready for this since I came home. I know what I’m doing, Alex. And with you backing me up, we can make this work. We can save the Yellowstone. We can build something that lasts.”

I stood there for a moment, taking in her words. The idea of putting this much money into something that could either sink or soar weighed heavily on me, but Beth’s confidence was contagious. I knew she’d been talking to the right people and had a vision for this. It wasn’t just a pipe dream. This could actually work.

“Alright,” I said, finally breaking the silence. “Let’s do it. But we do this by the book. We get the right people, we put in the work, and we don’t let anything slip. Deal?”

Beth’s smile widened, and she held out her hand. “Deal.”

Rip clapped me on the back. “Looks like we’re going all in, then.”

I nodded. “All in.”

And with that, we were officially starting the biggest gamble of our lives.

“Baby,” I heard Ryan’s voice beside me, “forty-five million?”

“Yeah,” I told him, “I guess I should have mentioned that before we got married.”

Ryan's eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth falling open for a second as he processed the number. "Forty-five million?" he repeated, his voice low as if trying to wrap his head around the amount. "Hell, I thought we were just trying to scrape by, not buying the whole damn town."

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. "Yeah, well, surprise," I said with a smirk. "It’s not just sitting in a vault somewhere. It’s what I won rodeoing. And from brand deals and stuff."

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "You’ve been sitting on this much and didn’t say a word?"

"Well, it's not exactly something you bring up at dinner," I replied, shrugging. "I’ve been putting the pieces together quietly. I didn’t think it was anyone’s business."

Ryan shook his head, still processing. "Damn, Alex. I knew you were smart, but this… this is next level. This changes everything." He paused, looking down at the dirt beneath us. "You’re gonna tell me how much you’re putting in this cattle thing, right?"

I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly. "I’m putting in what’s needed to get it started. But I want us both to be involved. It’s not just me running the show. We’ll need a solid plan, and we’ll need to take it slow, step by step."

Ryan finally cracked a smile, though it was mixed with disbelief. "Well, hell. I guess we’re going to need a bigger truck."

I laughed, feeling the tension slip away a little. "Not just a truck, baby. A whole damn team."

He pulled me in for a kiss, still shaking his head. "Forty-five million," he muttered against my lips. "And here I thought I was the one with the deep pockets."

"You’re the one with the heart," I whispered back, "And that’s all I ever really need."

“I wondered why you didn’t give me shit when I lost a week’s wages at the poker table,” he said, giving me a teasing smile.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, I figured you’d be wondering about that one. But I wasn’t worried about the poker winnings. You were having a good time. And you never asked me to bail you out.”

He gave me a sideways glance, leaning in slightly. “So, what exactly have you been doing with the money I gave you to put in the bank?”

I raised an eyebrow, my tone playful. “It’s in the bank. Right next to all of mine.”

Ryan’s expression shifted to one of mild disbelief. “So, you’ve been saving it all along?”

I nodded, the corners of my mouth lifting into a smile. “I’ve just been waiting for the right moment.”

“Waiting for what, exactly?” His voice held a mix of curiosity and concern.

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Waiting for the right opportunity to make it work for us. I didn’t want it just sitting there, doing nothing.”

He let out a low whistle, looking me over like he was still trying to figure out what I was up to. “I’m starting to think I really don’t know you as well as I thought.”

I chuckled softly, my eyes meeting his. “Well, you married me, so that’s on you.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Guess I did. But you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I’m full of surprises,” I told him, my voice low with a mix of conviction and a hint of pride. “People have been looking at me, thinking rodeoing was just something fun I liked to do. And it is, but I’m good at it. I’ve won. A lot. But I didn’t have anything I really wanted to invest it in until you.”

I looked up at him then, my gaze steady. “If something happened to the Yellowstone, it was our future. But now with Beth’s beef plan, we can have our future on the Yellowstone. This place is our foundation. But I won’t gamble our future away on something frivolous. If you’re not all in, then we can figure out another way.”

Ryan’s expression softened, the teasing gone, replaced by something deeper. He moved closer, his hand reaching for mine, his voice steady with a hint of determination. “I’m all in, baby.”

I let out a slow breath, relief and warmth flooding through me. This—us—wasn’t about luck or chance. It was about trust, hard work, and believing in something bigger than either of us. And I knew, right then, that we were going to make it work, no matter what.

“Great,” Beth said, crossing her arms and looking satisfied. “Now that that’s out of the way,” she turned to Rip, “We can spend one night, maybe two, in that suite in Amarillo.”

Rip’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t take his gaze off her. “Beth, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done here.”

Without missing a beat, Beth strode across the field toward the hands who’d been working on setting up the new camp. “Hi, everyone!” she called out, her voice carrying over the quiet murmurs of the crew. “So, um, I’m kidnapping him for a couple of nights. In exchange, next weekend, I’m gonna fly out boyfriends, girlfriends—same hotel, same room. Drinks will be on me. We have a deal?”

“Yeah, you’ve got a deal,” Walker answered first, his grin wide.

“Fuck yeah,” Teeter added with enthusiasm. “Where’s this deal been my whole life?”

“Uh, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jake interjected, his tone flat.

“And my wife is already here,” Ryan said with a smirk.

Beth paused for a second, as though contemplating. “Well, um…” She looked around. “I’ll get you a hooker. And my sister and her cowboy can have the suite the following weekend.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Is it immoral if someone else pays for it?”

“We’ll just stay here and watch over camp,” Ryan said, playing along.

Beth shrugged, unbothered. “Okay, so just one hooker for Jake.”

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble…” Jake responded, causing the whole camp to erupt in laughter.

“There will be no damn hookers,” Rip cut in, his voice firm as he shot a look at Beth.

“You know,” Beth said with a grin, “a deal’s a deal, baby. Go pack your suitcase, cowboy.”

“I’m not leaving them here alone,” Rip countered, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“I don’t think you’ve got a choice, boss,” Walker said, clearly enjoying the banter.

“All we’re doing is walking through pairs,” Ryan added. “If we can’t do that without supervision, we probably ought to find something else to do anyway.”

Beth looked up at Rip, pulling him close by the sleeve. “Yeah, come on. It’s just one night.”

Rip sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “You’re out of your mind,” he muttered before turning to Ryan. “You’re wagon boss until I get back.”

“Why the hell’s he wagon boss?” Jake asked, confused.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jake,” Ryan teased, his smile wide.

“He’s been with the ranch the longest,” Teeter chimed in, taking the opportunity to rattle Jake a little.

“I was hired before him,” Jake protested.

“Well, after you, he’s been here the longest,” Teeter pointed out with a sly grin.

Jake threw his hands up in frustration. “Well, that makes me wagon boss.”

I chuckled and shot him a look. “Sweetheart, and I say this with love—They don’t make idiots wagon boss.”

Teeter looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Can you still say ‘idiot’?”

Ryan nodded. “You can say ‘idiot,’ but you can’t say ‘retard.’”

Teeter scrunched her nose. “Ain’t that the same thing?”

“Nuh-uh,” Walker answered. “A retard’s got a disability. An idiot is just fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, there’s no medical reason why Jake is as stupid as he is,” Ryan added, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Just bad breeding,” Teeter quipped.

“Inbreeding,” Walker added, chuckling.

Jake grumbled under his breath, but his face flushed red. He pointed at the ground. “There’s a fucking snake!”

Teeter nearly jumped out of her skin. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“How’s that for fucking stupid?” Jake chuckled, his voice full of mockery. “It’s pretty funny.”

Teeter huffed and jumped onto Jake’s back. “Now you gotta carry me back,” she said, holding on like a child clinging to a piggyback ride.

I slipped my hand into Ryan’s as we started walking back toward camp, my laughter mingling with the rest of the crew’s. Even with the chaos, it was moments like this that made the camp feel like home.

[swee7dream]

how would the dreamies react to their s/o regressing for the first time in front of them after being super stressed and not being able to be a little ? ^^

it’s been a long time caregiver!nct dream x gender-neutral!regressor!reader

genres sfw age regression content, established relationship, hurt / comfort, angst in some, bits of fluff in all warnings involuntary / vent regression, regression block, negative self-talk, haechan's is long sry dni if you sexualize age regression. not only blocking but also reporting.

author’s note i'm SO sorry this took so long for me to get out. i promise i didn't forget about you, nonnie! i might've geared a little bit ( a lot ) off the prompt at times but i still hope you like it ! thx 4 requesting !

mark lee (ᓀ‸ᓂ) wc 642

With all your responsibilities lately, Mark finds it logical that you don’t regress as often as you used to. The last time he remembers was over three months ago. He misses taking care of you, hearing your sweet voice call out for your 'Mack!'. But he doesn’t want to burden you even more with any expectations to do anything you weren’t feeling up to do. He wasn’t planning to bring it up. Honest.

That was until you started coming home to avoid his kisses and go straight to bed. That moment left a pang in his heart.

In the silence and tension of your apartment, Mark finds himself in your little corner of tiny things, picking up your toys and dusting off your coloring books with longing. He misses his baby, so he’s going to get his baby back, he decides, no matter what it takes.

“Oh look, that new Disney movie came out you said you wanted to go see it, right?”

“I’m tired, Mark.”

“…okay.” He bites the inside of his cheek.

Just keep trying, Mark. You got this.

“Babe, I’m doing laundry. You want me to wash Cheese Doodle?” He knocks at your office door.

“Huh?” You raise your head as if you were a fish out of water. “Uh, yeah. That’s fine. Thank you.”

Hmph.

“What is that?” You give the box in Mark’s hand a look.

“It’s a game. Picked it up at the store. It’s like… Twister? But there’s something different about it. I dunno, I didn’t pay attention to the label and just bought it. Chenle asked that we bring some kind of board game for his party on Saturday.”

“Oh. Well, I have a thing on Saturday so tell him I can’t go but I hope everyone has fun.”

As the saying goes, the fourth time’s a charm.

“You’re not going to bed?” You rub your eyes, already in your night clothes and under the sheets.

“Not really tired,” he replies with a shrug as he makes his way out into the kitchen. “I think I’m gonna make myself some angel milk to get the sleeping juices going. That always worked for you. You want some?”

You’re already pretty tired, the events of the day had sucked every last drop of potential energy from you. Still, some angel milk in all its sweet, vanilla-tasting glory makes you lick your lips.

“…yeah. Please,” you answer.

When he comes back from the kitchen, he has your warm drink in one hand and Cheese Doodle—your orange puppy stuffie—in the other.

“Sit up for me, baby,” he says softly as he sits down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to spill anything from your favorite mug.

“Unicorn…!” You notice, taking the pink and rainbow cup in your two sleeve-clad hands. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Mark smiles. “and I just took cheese doodle out of the laundry too. Used the fabric softener that you like. Wanna feel?”

“Oh.” In a second, you’re like a cat rubbing your cheek against Cheese Doodle’s fur. “Smells good, Markie. Thank you.”

”Of course, baby. Feeling tiny?” He asks only now that he’s 95% sure you are.

”Little bit,” you admit into your mug, slurping quietly to not burn yourself.

”Aw.” He pouts. “That’s good. You know, Markie missed you, baby. I haven’t held my baby in such a long time.”

”Missed Markie too.” You blink at him with sleepy eyes and a milk mustache. “Lot.”

”Wanna cuddle for a little then?”

”Just for a lil' bit.” You nod, placing your angel milk on the bedside table.

Mark knows the mug will be forgotten by the morning but he'd rather make and waste a million angel milks than for you to forget him and Cheese Doodle again.

huang renjun ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა wc 594

“Oh that’s a nice painting, Jun,” you praise, resting your chin on his shoulder as he sits on a stool. “Very pretty.”

“I feel like it’s missing something, though,” he says with a frown. “Here. You paint something.”

“On your canvas?” You look at him. “No way, love. I’ll ruin it.”

“You won’t. Now take the brush.”

“I won’t.” You step back and cross your arms. “I’m not gonna mess up this painting you’ve been working so hard on with my clumsiness.”

“What are you talking about? You always add something to my paintings.” Renjun gives you a look. The look that makes you want to roll your eyes.

“And they’re always so much better before me.”

“You don’t think that.”

“I do.”

“Why are you talking about yourself in this way all of a sudden?”

“Because it’s true!” You explode. There’s a burning in the backs of your eyes as you keep talking. “All I’ve been doing lately is messing up stuff for other people. I’m no good, Renjun.”

“…”

“My boss thinks it, my team members think it. I know you think it too!” You sob.

“Darling-”

“Stop it, Jun.”

“Darling,” he repeats, taking your hand in his. “come here.”

He pulls you in with one hand and wipes your tears with another, so careful he almost makes you think you are glass.

“What’s in that green binder in the bookshelf over there?” he asks.

“What?” You furrow your brows. “I don’t know.”

“Go check.”

You give him a look but make your way to the oak bookshelf; filled with sketchbooks, novels, and a singular green binder. You look at Renjun when your fingers touch the spine and take it out only after he nods. Your knees wobble as you flip through the pages so you let your bottom hit the floor.

In the binder are the handwritten notes from back before the two of you even started dating; flirtatious exchanges recorded on coffee shop napkins, gum wrappers, and ripped-up bits of college notes. The next stage of your relationship is at the flip of a page; rushed post-it notes of domestic living with 'I love you!'s and 'Don't forget to eat!'s kept safe in the plastic sheets.

You look up at him with surprise but he only nods his head for you to keep flipping pages. You flip through empty slips until you almost reach the back cover and find all the drawings you’ve made for Renjun over the years while in regression. Each and every one. Even the ones where you're mad at him and have him eaten by monsters.

“You kept them…” You pass a finger over a drawing you made of the two of you, your stickmen-selves holding hands and smiling in a rocket ship.

“Of course I did, baby. How could I throw away something so perfect?” You hear his voice next to you, having gotten up from his seat to crouch next to you on the floor. He gently pulls your head into his chest and his lips drop to kiss the top of your head. “I don’t think you mess up things, my love. Ever. You simply change their direction. My Lovebug is the most creative, innovative person in the whole wide world, didn’t you know?”

“Junnie…” You sob, the dam of pent-up emotions finally seeking release.

“Hi there, babybug.” He whispers. “I’m right here, lovey. Right here. Let it all out.”

lee jeno ૮ .◜◡◝ა wc 655

“Babe, the ice is melting and your coke is turning into gross, brown, sweet-tasting water,” Jeno warns.

“One second, baby. I just need to finish this assignment real quick,” you mutter with your bottom lip bit in place.

It seems you’re still in the same clothes from three days ago, the same amount of time Jeno’s seen you stay in bed studying. He’s beginning to think your butt might be attached permanently to the mattress at this point. When it comes to your bedside table, your 5-hour energy from lunchtime being the latest addition to the food trash and empty water bottle pile doesn’t fill him with any more positive thoughts.

“When’s it for?” He sighs. “Your assignment.”

“…what?” You turn your head to him but your eyes stay on the screen. “Oh, um, Friday.”

“It’s Monday. Come on.” Jeno pulls at your arm like a spoiled child. “I’m not even making you shower or anything. I just wanna hang out with my hermit, stinky, computer nerd. Will you grant me my wish please?”

You look up with a half-offended, half-amused expression and your jaw dropped.

“I’m not stinky!” You fail to shake off your arm from his hold. “I told you I’m coming! I just really need to finish this.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Ye- ah!” You squeal as Jeno pulls at your arm, throwing you over his shoulder. “Jeno! I’m serious!”

“I’m serious too. Monday to Friday is five days-”

“Four days!”

“-and that’s more than enough time to finish your assignment.” He refuses to acknowledge your interruption. “You are going to eat a proper dinner with me on the couch as we watch TV and you’re gonna like it, you got that?”

“Augh…!” You groan, going limp on him.

“Oh, I know.” Jeno pouts as he sets you on the couch, covering you in your train-print fleece blanket. “I’m so mean, aren’t I? Asking you to take a break when all you wanna do is work, work, work.”

You just stare at him, squinting your eyes as you fail to hide a smile.

“Well unfortunately for you, gumdrop, babies don’t work! So I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. The police will come after me if I do. Child labor laws or something like that.”

He leaves a quick kiss on your forehead right before speeding to the kitchen. Jeno’s eyebrows wiggle in a wave when he returns with your food; apple slices, chicken nuggets, and fries all in their respective spots in your divided plate.

The original pasta and movie date night plan being scrapped for a Nono-Gumdrop night doesn’t phase Jeno. In fact, it excites him. Your projects and exams and assignments and professors... he tries so hard not to hold resentment against them all as they pull his baby away from him. But tonight? Tonight is different, and for once in his life, caregiver Jeno is triumphant.

“Thank you…” Your fingers wrap around the blue silicone and Jeno engulfs you in a bear hug when he sits down. Tight but not so tight it obstructs your arms when eating. “What are we watching, Nono?”

“Max and Ruby.” He smiles when you gasp.

“Love Max and Ruby!” You gush with a mouthful of apples.

“Do you?” Jeno drops his head to the side. “You do? You do? Nuh-uh. I do. It’s my favorite show in the whole wide world.”

“Well, ’s my favorite show in the whole galaxy!”

“Yeah? Well-”

You squeal, feeling ticklish when he nuzzles his stubble on your face.

“Nono, stop!” You giggle.

“Eat up, gumdrop.” He sighs, the feeling of his baby in his arms and eating a proper meal for the first time in days is an incomparable joy. “Two episodes and then it’s bathtime.”

“Ah, boo, Nono!” you whine but it turns back to giggles when he compresses you in his arms.

lee donghyuck ʕ˙Ⱉ˙‧:ʔ wc 994

“You there, Angel?”

You shake your head.

It feels strange, like your body isn’t yours, as you hold on tight to your dolls in your hands and see none of the lively sparkle in their eyes you usually do when you’re small.

“I’m broken, Hyuck,” you say with such a lack of emotions that you can’t tell if it’s actually you who is speaking. “I did everything right. I got dressed, I put on the music box, I’m trying to play for God’s sake. And nothing is working still. I feel ridiculous. A grown adult trying to act like a child.” You scoff.

“Hey, stop.” Donghyuck’s firm tone sends a shiver down your spine and you pull away. His shoulders drop when he notices; you’re scared and he’s only making it worse.

“That’s my baby you’re talking about, you know?” He tries again, with a softer tone this time. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not broken.” He holds your cheek.

“I’m just so tired, Hyuck.” Tears come up and blur your vision. “Everything has been going on for so long at the exact same time and I just- I can’t anymore. I need to just step away from reality for a little bit but I can’t even do that. My brain is just locking me in here in this state of suffering for who knows how long and I have no way of getting out. Not even for an hour.” You sob.

“I know, lovely.” He wraps his arms around you, letting you in turn wrap your arms around his legs from your seat on the floor. “It’s been so much for so long. You deserve a little break. Take a deep breath. Let’s try to let go of all these grownup worries, okay? We can pick them back up later. Come on, Angel, breathe.”

Angel.

Channie called you Angel and you still don’t feel small. The realization makes for more tears to come up but you refuse to let another defeated cry leave you. The denim of his jeans is rough on your face but not rough enough to make you stop using it as a tissue for your tears.

“…okay,” you creak out. “Breathe in. Breathing in…”

“There we go.” Haechan passes a hand over your head, the sensation soothing you somewhat. “And out. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Good job, Angel. Nice long deep breaths.”

You repeat the action several times, following his counts and pushing yourself to feel his jeans under your fingertips and smell the woodsy notes of his cologne to ground yourself.

“Everything sucks,” you say after some moments of silence. “Everything sucks. I didn’t even ask for any of this. I just want to be small,” your voice breaks.

“And you will be.” Donghyuck’s touch is gentle, encouraging you without words to look up at him. The pad of his thumb is warm when it wipes the tears from your face, brushing against your damp lashes. “You will be. I promise.”

“I don’t know what to do, Hyuck. I’m all out of ideas at this point,” you admit.

“How about just trying to feel not sucky?” He scrunches his nose, the most tender of smiles painted on his face. “How about… just drawing a picture? Just one. Doesn’t have to be with crayon or marker like when you’re feeling tiny. It can be whatever you want it to be. Don’t think about being small, just about drawing.”

“…draw what?”

“Hm… what about your dolls?”

When you unwrap yourself from his legs to look at said dolls, it gives Donghyuck the chance to go grab your art supplies. Your dolls don’t have that lively aura you see them with when you’re small but you can almost feel a sort of pity and empathy from them. It reminds you of the type of support your friends give you in their messages despite the country lines separating you.

“And I’ll draw… a car. Jeno’s been getting me into Formula One.” Donghyuck pulls you out of your thoughts when his voice is so close it makes you turn to see he’s taken a seat next to you on the floor. He opens a pencil case right in front of you two and takes a black pencil for himself to begin sketching on some paper.

“Really?” You opt a red pencil.

“Yeah. It’s pretty interesting.” He shrugs.

“But ’s so boring.” You sniffle up some snot from your lightning-fast crying session. You didn’t even cry for that long, how come you can feel your eyes swelling? So annoying. “They just go around in circles.”

“It’s not just that though. There’s—pass me the red? Oh, you have it. No, it’s okay. I can wait—there’s like a ton of beef between them. I like watching the interviews and stuff. It’s like watching basketball or football.” Haechan lets out a groan as he lays on his stomach, resting a cheek on his fist. “That’s really pretty, baby.”

“Y’like it?” You move to mirror him, turning your drawing for him to see better. “Think I’m gonna add some other stuff too.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” you admit. “Probably you. I always like drawing you. And then… your red car. You can take me and the dollies on a road trip. I like it when we have fun together.”

Affection floods out of Donghyuck, letting out an adoring ‘aw’ as he hugs you, leaving kisses on all the spots he knows won’t lead to a tickle fight.

“So cute! I always have fun with you. My Angel...” he hums into your temple.

“My Channie…” you mutter under your breath, sketching his head four times bigger than the rest.

na jaemin ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ wc 664

“I’m okay.” You rub your nose. “Just a couple sneezes, Jaem. It’s not a big deal. I can keep studying for a little while longer.”

“You sneezed four times in a row.” Jaemin stands next to your desk chair with his arms crossed. “Do you know what that means?”

“What?” You sigh, knowing he won’t leave until you entertain him.

“You have the plague.”

“The what?”

“The plague.”

“Baby, I don’t have the-” Achoo! “the-” Achoo! “the plague…”

You move your mouse around your screen and click away at it but it doesn’t hide the reflection of Jaemin’s intense stare into your skull. He’s not amused. You spin your chair around.

“I don’t have the plague,” you repeat with a clogged nose, not even convincing yourself this time. “…I just have a little cold.”

“I wonder where you could have gotten that from, hm?” He turns you toward him by the chair’s arms and traps you by holding onto both of them and leaning in until your foreheads almost touch. “Maybe from studying a little too much? From stretching yourself too thin? Pushing yourself past your limits? Hm? Hm? hm?” He turns his head at an angle with each question, being obnoxious about his accurate statements.

“Five minutes.”

“No.”

“I just need to email this professor.”

“No.”

“I have a group project.”

“Good thing you have groupmates, huh? Come on, get off your pretty little butt.” He grabs you from under the armpits, placing your feet on the ground as if you were merely a bag of rice. “We’re playing hospital.”

“No…” you whine with dragging feet the whole time Jaemin guides you to the kitchen, his gentlemanly hand giving you no chance to run as it rests on the small of your back.

“Yes…” He pouts at you as he fills up the syringe with orange medicinal syrup. “Babies need be good and take their medicine when they are sick, okay?”

“Jaemin-” You pull your head the other way, holding his wrist away from you.

“Baby…” he sings, dodging your attempts. “Say ‘ah’, pumpkin.”

Pressing your lips tight doesn’t do anything, the plastic tip of the syringe still slipping in and filling your mouth with bitter medicine that makes a lame attempt at orange flavoring. You shake your head, still rejecting the cold syrup as it goes down, but it does regardless, chilling your throat when it does.

“Bleh!”

“Drink some water, baby.” Jaemin holds up a cup (when did he fill that up?) and you take it as if it were the key to eternal life.

“Taste so icky,” you say with your face scrunched up like a raisin. “Hate it!”

You’re sick and suffering from forced consumption of medicine. Jaemin knows this. Jaemin shouldn’t smile. But he just can’t help it! His baby is finally back after such a long, long time. he thought he was gonna die from BWS (Baby Withdrawal Symptoms).

“Aw…” His hands reach out to hold your face and squish your cheeks together. “Baby doesn’t like medicine? Babies don’t like yucky bitter things. Babies like… sweet yummy things! How about some hot chocolate, lovey-dovey?”

“Chocwate?” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“Hot chocwate.” His nose scrunches as he pinches your cheeks. “Does that sound good?”

“Yeah!” You hop free of his crab claws. “Hot chocolate! Wanna, wanna, wanna!”

“Be careful, sugarplum!” Jaemin laughs, twirling you with such ease it feels as if you were in a dance. “Why don’t you go put something on the TV while I make us the chocolate? Whatever you want, baby,” he says, but you’re already out of the kitchen and looking under blankets and cushions for the remote.

“Spongebob!” You hold it up to the ceiling like it were the sword in the stone.

“Except Spongebob. You know that shrinks your brain.”

“Aw!” You slump but quickly straighten up like a ruler. “Ah- Ah- Achoo!”

zhong chenle (ᯟ︿ᯏ) wc 622

“I’m so proud of you.” Chenle pecks your head as you hold his waist from behind. The smells coming from the stove you two stand in front of are nothing if not heavenly. “Pretty, funny, kind, graduated. How’d I bag you?”

“Mmm, I dunno.” You shrug smugly, as you look out the window. A content sigh leaves you as your eyes follow the raindrops that slide down your window. “Must’ve done something good in your past life.”

“Must have,” he hums. “Set the table for me? I’m basically almost done.”

“You got it.” You peck his cheek. “Smells delicious. Jaemin give you cooking lessons while I was gone?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. I don’t need any cooking lessons. Never have.”

“Ah…” You roll out the placemats with a sarcastic nod.

“But if I did, I would go to Donghyuck.”

“If you did, I would approve. His soups are good.”

“Mine are better.”

“…”

“Right?”

“Sure.”

The music playing from the speakers and lights in the apartment all shut off at once, not even the hum of the refrigerator sounding in the silence, the darkness. The thunder is so close it feels like footsteps. Heavy, angry footsteps coming close. Closer and closer to you.

The power comes back as soon as it left but you can’t seem to recover as fast. You don’t even remember dropping down to hold your knees, and in the dark you didn’t see how many tears came up to overflow from your eyes. Chenle calls out your name but it sounds so distant it doesn’t even register. It feels like you’re running out of oxygen like a deep sea diver falling hopelessly down to the ocean floor.

“Hey,” you take a sharp inhale at Chenle’s warm hands holding your cheeks ground you back to reality. “Hey, the power went out. Everything’s fine. You’re okay. You’re home, you’re with me. Nothing is gonna hurt you here, you hear me? You are safe.”

You almost knock Chenle over from his crouching position when you throw yourself on him, but he reads your body language just in time to catch you. His lips press into your hair, your temples, your shoulders, the softest of touches as you wail into his shirt. His heart breaks at how fragile you seem in the moment, like a porcelain doll with a chip. You sob and babble to the point that Chenle can’t understand what you’re saying. All he can catch is one word.

“Daddy��”

There’s nothing for you to do but cry, Chenle’s learned with time, so he lets you do just that. He lets you cry in his arms there on the floor and when you’re finally willing he attaches you to his hip as he walks around. He wipes your tears with a paper towel and makes sure you get a bottle of water to drink from to rehydrate.

His eyebrows furrow when you turn your head to dodge his spoon, rejecting the meal you were so looking forward to less than twenty minutes ago. This meal which was meant to be a celebration of not just the end of your education but of all your life up to this point. Of your growth, your endurance; of all the stress you put yourself through to come out victorious in the end.

You’re still victorious, he thinks. Even now as you fill up the apartment with tears, he’s so proud of you. His partner, his baby, the strongest person he’s ever met.

“Come on, dollface. Just one spoonful, yeah? Need you to eat,” he tries again.

park jisung (∩˃o˂∩) wc 668

“What’s that giant box?”

“What giant box?” He looks at you on the couch. “...I thought you were napping.”

“I woke up. What’s with that giant box you’re pushing into our house?”

“Oh, this?” Jisung looks down. “It's… a box.”

You blink, irritation in your tight-lipped smile at your boyfriend’s lack of cooperation.

“I know it’s a box, Ji. I'm asking what’s inside the box?”

“Box… stuff…”

“Jisung!”

“That’s not my name!” He whines as he shuts the front door. “My name to you is Ji! Or Baby! Not Jisung! It’s so scary when you call me that...” He sighs. “It was supposed to come before you started your vacation time, while you were at work.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows come together into a questioning frown.

“Because- just- you’ll see soon. Pass me the scissors? Thanks.” He pecks your lips, taking the scissors from your hands and pushing your back away with little force. “Now go. Get! Your surprise will be ready in a minute. Go… brush your dolls’ hair or something. It’ll be super quick.”

“Doll hairs? is it a Little gift?”

“Shoot.” Jisung bites his fist. “...can you just go in the bedroom already? It’s not a Little gift. It’s not.”

The instructions that came in the box of the not-Little gift said construction would only take thirty minutes. Not to fear, with super handyman Park Jisung to the rescue it only took three hours and two people.

“We’re done!” You clap, looking in awe at your brand new play kitchen, pink and wooden and creaky and yours. “Jiji, finish!”

“Yeah.” He sits back on the floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. “We’re finished. D’you like it?”

“It’s so pretty, jiji!” You beam, hugging his head and squeezing the brains out of him.

“I’m glad you like it, bub.” He nods at his work in approval. “You deserve it. Worked so hard recently.”

“Thankie!” You get up quickly, running barefoot into the bedroom to come back with a box of play food in all colors and sizes.

“Make you a lenonade, bubby!” You begin adding ice to a cup and add a lemon to it. “Ice cold lenonade.”

“Oh, I love your lenonade. Thanks, baby.” He takes the cup, making gulping noises and finishing it off with a loud and satisfied ‘ah!’. “Actually, are we playing restaurant right now?”

“Um… yeah!” you decide. “Welcome to my rest’rant! What would you like to order?”

“I would kill for a good burger.” Jisung pats his stomach like a starved man. “I hear you guys have some good ones, is that true?”

“The truest!” You smile. “One burger, comin’ up!”

You turn back to your kitchen and hum to yourself as you place a burger patty on the stove.

“No pans for that?”

“No pans!” You shake your head. “Special burger.”

“Ah, must be.” He mutters behind you.

When it comes to building time, Jisung acts like a to-be-blacklisted customer.

“Could I have no onions in my burger? I’m allergic.”

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s just play pretend, honey.”

“Oh. Then, yes you can, sir! No onions.”

“And no tomatoes please. I don’t like how the seeds get stuck between my teeth.”

“No tomatoes!”

“And could you cut the cheese? It kind of sends me to the bathroom.”

“Ew… okay, no cheese, either!” You toss the slice of play cheese to the side.

“…could you also remove the meat? I’m vegetarian.”

That’s the final straw. No meat? You look down at his ‘burger’: bread, lettuce, bread.

“This is what you want?” You turn to show him his order.

“Oh yes.” He smiles, clasping his hands together in anticipation. “That’s my burger! So tasty. Thank you, shop owner.”

“You’re welcome…” You give him a look. “Ketchup?”

“No thanks.”

“Mayo?”

“Bleh! Pass.”

“…barbeque sauce?”

“Oh, that’s my favorite! Lettuce and barbeque sauce burger, my favorite.” He licks his lips.

“Jiji, ew!” you whine.

tag list ( ask / comment to join ! ) @mystarsohee @cupofwyn @iwontlettheselittlethingsslip @aeriaeri

[shingekinomyfeelings]

You know how a trope in certain anime and manga is the protagonist dies but they suddenly travel back in time and get another chance at life? Imagine that but for attack on titan, and reader has to go through the four years of training as a cadet but with the knowledge that Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt are titan shifters. How do you think that would play out?

My gut reaction was wanting to say that I/you/we would (or at least should) take the opportunity to wage slow, psychological warfare on them purely because it would be very very funny - like, ominous notes and drawings, or periodic pointed comments while making uncomfortable eye contact, or just going full Shawn Spencer - but I decided I should try to give a more serious answer.

I think it would depend on when reader died and what their feelings were for Reiner at that time, and on how much you know about the origin of Titans and the outside world.

Did you die pissed off at Reiner and wanting revenge? You could take shit into your own hands and try to kill them yourself. Annie would be a long shot, but you could look for chances. Break a piece of their ODM gear, slip something into their food, or, if you're in Crazy Person mode at this point, befriend Reiner again, progress to being lovers, and just shank him when his guard is down. Very revenge movie/slasher film. You uhh. Might get charged with murder and executed.

Do you just want to stop them at any cost for the sake of humanity? You could tip off Erwin. Sure, it'd be hard to explain in a way he or anyone else could believe, but even if they didn't take you seriously and investigate a little, it would click together the moment they discover that Eren can turn into a Titan at will. Assuming you died before learning the truth about titan inheritance, I imagine they would split RBA up and try to incapacitate them with the element of surprise without resorting to the ploy of drawing the Female Titan out by doing that entire expedition. That could go all kinds of ways, particularly when it comes to taking out Reiner and Annie, and attempting it inside Wall Rose or Sina would very likely result in massive casualties. If Reiner got the chance to use his titan form, I don't think he could be taken without the invention of the thunder spears.

But lets say the plan works, and the three are captured, their limbs cut off (repeatedly lmao). They would undoubtedly be executed, because there's no feasible way to keep them long enough for real interrogation, and the secrets of the outside world would die with them, but retaking Wall Maria would be a little easier. Of course then you're a lot more fucked when Eren unleashes the Rumbling. Whoops.

Or, did you die wishing you could save Reiner and his friends, too? That's the option I like better because I'm a sap, but it'd be even more messy and angsty. Relive falling in love with Reiner in a much more bittersweet way, and confront him at the time when none of the three can plausibly deny who they really are, by butting in when they're disarming Marco. Reiner would fliiip his shit, Annie would come straight at you to kill you, Marco would be like 'guys what's happening aaah I'm dying.'

I reckon Reiner would stop Annie even though he's having a class A freak out, because he can't fucking take losing you and he's already having a very stressful afternoon, and you could take a chance at really talking to them and learning why they're doing this, and maybe even try to convince them to let you help them avoid all out chaos. I've always liked the idea that under the right circumstances, Reiner and Bertholdt, and on a more slim chance Annie, could have been persuaded to defect from Marley and help Paradis make a massively unexpected counterattack on the Marleyans, especially if part of the deal involved safely extracting their families from Liberio first, and take the entire series in a much different direction.

...I guess you should also save Marco while you're there lmfao

[a-sad-mage]

I just thought of this since Eli is a Shane, shouldn't he be getting like kidnapped daily because of this? Or is it because the writers didn't want to scare the kids with it? And how would the Shane gang, plus the HC gang, react to this?

I don't think the writers where afraid of Eli getting kidnapped, I mean look at 'The Thrill of The Game', the whole Gang was more or less kidnapped(as luring someone to a location and then holding them hostage can be considered that to a degree).

also keep in mind this was 2012, Kaijudo ROTD(which was arguably darker in some of this themes), Ultimate Spider-man, HTTYD Rise of Berk (it had its moments), 2012 TMNT, also, Johnny Test and like, a number of other shows aired at the time which got way(debatably)darker then simplely kidnapping the main protag.

and this isn't touching Transformers Prime, because while it came out 2010 it ended 2013 and they straight up show us serval war crimes, harm to children(two instances being hunting), desecration of a corps, robot gore, and viral vampire zombie robot infection, organ robbery, robot and human murder, JUST- SIALS and literal abuse soooo when it comes to it being 'to much' the bar is low its, I wanna say after 2016-2017 when stuff got cracked down on.

and if anything, it just wouldn't make sense given Eli's character? Boy isn't going down without a fight.

Like yeah, use a Slyren or chloroform gas to knock him out, but like, I think the general idea is, 'why kidnap a Shane? seems more trouble then its worth'

Cuz like, the reason why a kidnapping occurs if usually either for a ransom, either monetary or of an object of some kind, to get information or use the victim against the hero. More or less there are like other reasons, but those tend to be the most common from what I understand.

And, again, little to no benefit to nabbing a single Shane, other then mind control reasons, and trying to pry out Shane secrets. Like if Will was around, the idea may have been entertained by Blakk or another villain more often.

With that said, in a hypothetical, situation Eli is kidnapped, It's by the Game Master, again, because it was hinted he would come back, since he wasn't caught/arrested.

and because I suck at action here's like, a little thing-

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Eli would wake up in a glass cage. tube to be more accurate, like a giant slug shell. his baster is missing and his slugs are gone. and all there is, is a monitor on the other side of the glass which flickers to life, and his team, his friends- family are all just coming too on there respective screens, each one in a different room.

"wha- oh what the f- GAME MASTER!" Stocker yells, his voice a tinged by the static of the monitor and speakers.

and course of groans to cursing follow from the others realizing the Game Master had shown up yet again much to their ire.

"i- wait, hold up I can see everyone but-" Kord started squinting at something off camera Eli couldn't see.

"ELI!" the others shout. from what limited context the young Shane could gather, the others probably had monitors as well that let them see and hear each other, with the exception of himself.

"Well it seems my mice have woken up!" crackled a voice form a separate PA system. Game Master.

"Let us out of here!" Trixie demanded.

"gerr, jerk took my Shadow Walker-" Dana growled.

"COWERD!" Mario yelled

"Game Master, I swear when I get out of here-" Gent hissed.

"tisk, tisk, no need to get nasty" Game Master said, and a dormant screen flickered to life for the others, that showed Eli in his tube, and then, some water started to trickle in, slow but steady.

"... oh you gotta be kidding me" Eli muttered, lifting his foot up a little.

"Once I say so, you have eight hours to find Eli Shane, the key's to his freedom are strewn around your little labyrinth, along with his gear and slugs, tick tock, time starts now!" Gem Master said in a sing song tune as the PA cut out.

"PRONTO IS MOST OFFENDED BY THIS! HOW COME ELI GET'S CENTER STAGE!"

"This is not what I meant about team building" Vance muttered already trying to work through the puzzle in his room so he could get the door open.

"I was not aware, your Caverns had such, eccentric individuals" Junjie said flatly, pulling at a rope, unlocking his door.

"just say it like it is Junjie, Game Masters a BI-"

-

but yeah none are too happy

[locatislunaticolupin]

RIP my dumb ass because I do like talking about that scene in Deathly Hallows, so here's a different post about it.

What's interesting about Remus leaving Dora (or "his pregnant wife", since people like to rob Dora of her humanity and name) isn't the shallow moralizing the fandom likes to do. Doing that makes that scene easier to understand for people who don't like engaging with their own weaknesses or failures, and I understand flattening complex scenes and characters is what fandom does, but it still grinds my gears that that's how fandoms dedicated to books pretend to win arguments.

I was a kid once too, I felt betrayed by him in that scene too. What that storyline forced me to do was try to understand what could lead a person like him to make a bad decision like that. Older now, I don't pretend to excuse him of his wrongdoings, but that scene did force me once, and forces me again now, to genuinely engage with the complexities of not only Remus, but Dora and Harry. It's not a scene that exists in a vacuum: it's the culmination of a lot of different storylines, from Remus' marginalization to Dora's desperation to Harry's relationship with family and the past (and I'm absolutely not engaging with all of that here. These are the cliff notes at best of some of that stuff).

Remus leaves Dora and his unborn child because he hates himself so much that he genuinely thinks that's the kind thing to do. He's not running away from conflict (he's running straight at it, actually), he's not scared of raising a kid: he genuinely thinks staying means he'll destroy their lives, just like his own life was destroyed.

Ever since then, taking himself out of the equation has been how he fixes things: his family used to move around a lot so people wouldn't suspect them and he resigns from the DADA position because staying would land Dumbledore and the school into trouble. He's not running from confrontation, he's thinking his mere existance is bringing trouble to those he loves and attempt to help him. When he's avoiding confrontation (with Dumbledore or his friends), he does it because he doesn't want to lose their love. However, he's under no illusions that Dora won't be angry at him for doing this. He's not expecting to keep Dora's love. He's expecting to make her life better. Engaging with those contradictory ideas is way more interesting than being comfortable with surface-level, easy to digest analysis.

We can compare Remus' decision to Harry himself, who attempts to run away from his loved ones whenever he thinks he'll bring harm to them. He tries to leave everyone behind in Order of the Phoenix, later on he tries to leave Ginny, he doesn't even want to take Ron and Hermione with him in Deathly Hallows. That doesn't make him any less brave or good: we understand that he genuinely thinks that's the best way of protecting the people he loves.

Harry's reaction when he finds out about Remus' decision is very much the same one as the reader's: anger and disappointment. That's one of the themes of the book: in the process of becoming an adult, a child will (even must) be disappointed by the adults he knows. He'll find out they're not perfect, that they can't protect him, that they'll make bad decisions. Dumbledore is the biggest example of this, but we also have Harry realizing Sirius was deeply flawed, just like he'd found out before that James was as well. I could write a whole aside about Severus and Peter and how Harry walks the opposite path with them. Realizing that people aren't completely good or completely evil is a big part of the saga.

So Harry calls Remus out, just like any friend of Remus would have. What he says has more to do with Harry himself than Remus (what Harry values, what has hurt him up to that point. He even talks shit about Sirius), but it gets Remus to react and pushes him back on the right track because Harry's forcing him to see how his actions are really affecting others. It's not better just because he's not there. Harry gets Remus out of his self-hating, spiraling thoughts.

Remus is so thankful and appreciative of it that he names him godfather. He's thankful he was called out on his flaws and mistakes, and he goes out of his way to fix them. We see him being a dad, we see it makes him deliriously happy. He dies with his son's baby pictures in his pocket. It's the first thing Harry says to him when he brings him back with the Resurrection Stone. For them, that scene is a breaking point: not only does Harry go through a milestone towards becoming an adult, but he's also seen as one by one of his mentors. Remus is the only one of that friendship group that gets to see Harry as an equal, as an adult.

I don't think I've said anything controversial up to this point, so here it goes, because I absolutely adore Dora, but I rarely see people honestly and genuinely engaging with her character.

Remus and Dora got together under pressure from the war, their friends, Dora herself and the desperation born from Dumbledore's death. Remus' concerns (he's too poor, too old, too dangerous) are all legitimate, both in the sense that they're real and that they could prove to be significant obstacles in a relationship, but they're brushed aside when they get together by both Dora and the Weasleys. They're all well-meaning and supportive, of course. Molly had brought up before that her own marriage was born from the desperation of war, so it makes sense that she'd be so supportive and encouraging of them. What they can't quite see, however, is that Remus' life is getting harder by the minute: discrimination against werewolves is at an all-time high due to the war, both because of Greyback and because of the Ministry (Umbridge's law that makes Remus' life harder was put in place after Severus outed Remus in Prisoner of Azkaban. Chances are there's a correlation there). Dora's life becoming harder because of her relationship with a widely-known werewolf isn't a far-off posibility born from Remus' trauma and low self-esteem, it's a real thing.

So when Dora begs him to understand that she loves him, she's not quite grasping that that's not the problem (or at least not the whole problem): the problem is that love's not enough to make a relationship work, especially in such a hard context. Ultimately, what we get as to why he changes his mind are Arthur's words:

“But she wants you,” said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. “And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.”

(with a little push from McGonagall's after).

"But she wants you" is Arthur pointing out that Dora's her own person and she's making her own decision. She's an adult and she's choosing this. Remus' objections aren't acknowledged, and are therefore still there, still a problem, but he can't choose for her. People making their own decisions and dealing with the consequences is also a big part of the saga, so alright, the relationship's a go. They're both choosing this. Remus can understand that (and part of what he likes about Dora is that she's a daredevil).

A big criticism of their relationship is that Remus was "pushed into it". I don't think he was: he's clearly interested in Dora and he wants to date her. What was pushed aside were his concerns: in the middle of a war, neither Dora nor the Weasleys want them to lose time or even the opportunity to be together when they don't know if they'll still be alive in a week. So Remus' fears were never laid to rest and, on top of it, the relationship developed fast. According to Pottermore, they were never together before that hospital scene, so in less than a year we go from a reluctant/concerned Remus to a kid.

Once Dora gets pregnant, the situation changes: that child isn't choosing his parents or the life he's being born into. All of Remus' concerns, which were never acknowledged or put to rest, arise with even more force than before. The lack of acknowledgment of his well-founded fears was part of why his reaction's so big and so cruel. He's alone in his understanding of what being a werewolf and living with a werewolf really entails. He couldn't prepare with Dora or the Weasleys about it. If past experiences are anything to go by, they won't acknowledge that being with a werewolf does bring drawbacks to someone's life, and he can't do that to a child.

Of course it's Harry's perspective that makes him "see the light". Harry's talking from the point of view of an orphan of war, he's paralleled to Teddy at the end of the book. Harry, in that moment, can be seen as Remus' son talking to him if he goes down that path. Of course Remus goes back to him. Of course he faces his biggest fears and goes back.

[allelitewrites]

(This is my first story and I honestly don't even know if I'm doing this whole thing right but...)

A Subtle Warning

Word Count: 1630

Relationship: Hangman Page x Reader

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

Tonight was just like any other Wednesday night. My boyfriend and I arrived to the venue a few hours before doors opened for the weekly episode of Dynamite. I thankfully wasn't booked to do anything for the night. I was only thankful because a rest was very much needed. Adam however was in the middle of a pretty personal feud with Swerve Strickland. Their whole thing wasn't supposed to be personal at first. The initial intention for it to just be apart of the wrestling business. One person wanting another's position. However, things changed when Swerve had brought up that Hangman was walking away from his issues. Walking away from his issues like he had from the Elite and I some years ago. It was a low point that he typically didn't like to talk about and that night, Swerve really struck a nerve.

Hangman and I found our way into The Elite's locker room. The EVP's temporarily absent due to a creative meeting. We set our things down before taking a seat next to each other on the cheap couch. He and I leaned into each other. With the way his calloused fingers were tracing along my skin, I could tell he was nervous. "I hate signing contracts on TV." Adam mumbles as he lets out a large sigh.

I turn my head and plant a firm kiss on his large shoulder before leaning my head against him again. "Just go out there and do your thing." I reassure him as I twist at one of the bracelets resting on my wrist. I can feel him nod as his hand finally starts to decrease the amount of shapes it was drawing. "Try not to let him get to you."

"Well, Y/n, it's kind of hard when he's sitting right across the table from me with a disgusting smirk as he mocks me."

I didn't even have a response. I hate contract signings just as much as he does. They were a stupid excuse to get publicity and a chance to manipulate your opponent on a golden platter. To me, you shouldn't need a set up situation for you to get to your opponent. Everything you do should be in the ring. Without a table and without chairs. Contracts should be signed in the back. A response came to mind but I wasn't able to share it as Kenny, Matt, and Nick came back into the room, instantly complaining about how long and boring their meeting was. Adam sat up straight and let his large hand rest on my thigh. We weren't huge on PDA, especially not around our friends.

A few hours later...

For whatever reason Tony Khan decided to give Adam and Swerve the main event. All for a contract signing that would probably end up with tables flipping and chairs being thrown. I was sitting anxiously next to Matt as the Elite watched the segment go down. Renee Paquette table side to officiate the signing.

Strickland was chewing Adam up, not even giving the blonde headed man a chance to speak his own words. Eventually, he started to talk about how different he and Hangman were from each other. Almost as if he was offended by being compared to the cowboy. "What's a farmer to a mogul, huh?" Swerve asks, making Adam furrow his eyebrows. "What's a cowboy to an outlaw? What's a buckshot to a kill shot?"

I chewed at the inside of my cheek. I could see Adam's gears in his brain moving at a hundred miles per minute just through the television screen in the locker room. He was keeping his cool, never breaking eye contact with the man across the table from him.

Finally, Swerve put his microphone down. For the first time tonight, Adam was given the opportunity to speak his thoughts. But, he didn't start the way I expected him to. First, Adam calmly mentioned the things Swerve had said to him in the weeks prior. However, the thing that caught all of us off guard as Nick and Kenny settled in their spots around the room was that Hangman thanked Swerve. Adam thanked him for reigniting a flame in his body that was long burnt out. He explained how something was up with him. Something that a person really couldn't explain.

The crowd was so invested in every single word that either man let slip from their lips. Letting every single sentence set in, expanding their thoughts to multiple different things. Things that hadn't even realized they didn't really notice at first. A slight stir could be heard as Adam spoke of a dark cloud that he'd felt was hovering over him every single time that he showed up to work.

"And then sure... sure. The sun would shine. I beat Jon Moxley in a Texas Death Match." Adam proudly brags. I caught him taking a pause to look at Renee, who drew her lips into a line at the thought of the brutal match her husband had gone through with my boyfriend. "I reunited with my friends in the Elite. I was able to rekindle my relationship with the absolute love of my life. And it felt like I should've been the happiest man in the world. But every time I started to smile. That little black cloud came back and it started to rain."

I couldn't help but smile at the fact of him calling me the love of his life on national television. Something I could never get used to him calling me. In the good way of course. He continued to speak before addressing how the fans who supported him so dearly deserved to see more from him. And when he decided that he spoke enough of his mind to get his point across, he picked up the pen and signed his name on the dotted line.

An evil laugh was heard. A laugh that echoed through the building. Adam was caught off guard. Looking up to see Swerve looking like he was having the time of his life. Looking like he was having a good time. Looking like this whole thing was a simple joke to him. The crowd quickly canceled him out, a chant of 'Cowboy Shit' echoing through the seats of the arena.

"That was beautiful. But, quite frankly, that was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen." Swerve chuckles before insulting the crowd's home team. Earning an array of boos. He continued on to speak about how he was fueled to take Adam's position in the company before Hangman had heard enough. Tired of hearing how Swerve believed Adam was handed everything in his career which couldn't of been more untrue.

Hangman stood up, the anger coursing through his veins finally reaching a boiling point. "If you think you have what it takes to fill my boots... you don't."

Swerve matched his energy also standing up across from him. But he didn't speak a single word. Instead he froze to look Adam in the eye once more. And just when Adam thought it was over, Swerve rose his and and slapped the cowboy across the face. Adam turned around and leaned on the ropes behind him as Swerve picked up a microphone yet again. "Hey. Hey, hey Hangman. You seem to not think of me as a threat. You sure as hell better watch your back... or maybe you should tell your friends... actually, no. You want to make this personal? Fine, we'll make it personal. You better tell your hot girlfriend to watch her back."

Adam didn't even hesitate, raising the microphone he still had in his hand to his mouth.

"If you touch her... I'll kill you."

Swerve let out a long sigh. Finally he got the hint that Hangman wasn't joking. Threatening me... someone Adam cared about so dearly was the final nerve that Swerve could've hit. He leaned over and signed the contract.

In that split second, I saw Adam clench his fist and I knew he was going to swing. However, I didn't expect what he actually did.

Using the pen Adam formerly used to sign the match contract, he stabbed Swerve's hand. I watched as Strickland screamed in pain. He pleaded as my boyfriend refused to let go. I booked it out of the room. Rushing to get into the guerrilla position. I intended on meeting Adam there. After that... I had no plan, I was left with whatever my first option would end up being.

He forcefully pushed his way back through the curtain not seeing me at first. But when I walked up to him and put my hand on his bicep. He spun around and I could see relief wash across his face. He pulls me into his chest and holds the back of my head. I can feel his heavy breathing and I can hear his heart beat at the speed of a thousand race horses.

He pulls away to kiss the top of my head before firmly grabbing my hand. Not even whispering a single word. He rushes me through the hallways before pushing me into an empty room that he surely scouted out before the show. As soon as I shut the door he crashes his lips into mine, his hands grabbing greedily at my top. I wrap my arms around my neck before tilting my head back to get a good look at his face.

"What?" He asks.

I smile and push a golden curl out of his face. "I just wanted to make sure that I heard you right. Did you say you would kill him?"

A smirk crawls onto his face. His ocean blue eyes staring directly into mine. "With my own two bare hands, sweetheart."

[lizardperson]

wildcards

[on ao3]

fandom: fallout new vegas characters: female courier & arcade gannon rating: m wc: 620 prompts: #fff259 house of cards for @flashfictionfridayofficial

---

"...but anyway, Julie doesn't agree with me on that," Arcade concluded his tale as he sipped on his beer. "She might be on to something there," Gabriel conceded, much to the doctor's chagrin. Mika meanwhile was busy building a house of cards on the table with her caravan deck, apparently bored by the men's conversation. The three had met up for a drink at the Atomic Wrangler, as they often did when Mika and Gabriel were in Freeside. "Hey! No unsanctioned gambling in my establishment!" Francine yelled while passing their table, startling Mika and causing her to collapse the whole installation. "Does this look like gambling?" Mika yelled back, collecting the cards. "I am building something grand here!" "I have my eye on you!" the bartender threatened, unable to hide a grin. "You hitting on me, Francine?" Mika shot back and gave her a wink. The other woman just shook her head laughing and went her way, while Mika started her little construction project from scratch. "What are you guys up to tomorrow?" Arcade inquired, finishing his beer. Gabriel grimaced. "Gomorrah." Worst casino on the strip. Second-worst, maybe. "Apparently the Omertas are planning something, and House wants us to check it out," Mika divulged, still half-distracted by her cards. "I still don't get why you two are even working for him," Arcade sighed. "Is that fancy suite really worth it, putting the whole region into the hands of some Old World autocrat?" He gestured at Mika. "You of all people are the last person I would have taken for a hypercapitalist henchman! Woman. Whatever." "Mr. House is the best option if we all want the Mojave to prosper," Gabriel started his spiel, as if he was reading straight from some Lucky 38 marketing brochure. "He sees the bigger picture and has the region's best interests at heart." Next to him, Mika tried very hard not to laugh out loud at his attempt to sound sincere. "Oh come on, you can't be serious," Arcade objected, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what else to tell you, man," Gabriel shrugged, while Mika just chuckled and continued building. This time she managed a third level on her little opus. "The house always wins..." she remarked, trying to put up a fourth level and making the whole thing collapse again. "Until it doesn't." She grinned mischievously at the doctor. "Mika..." Gabriel grumbled, in an attempt to shut her up. They had agreed to keep their little plan between themselves as long as possible as a precaution. Slightly baffled, Arcade looked back and forth between them, the figurative gears in his head visibly turning. Mika had another go at building her house of cards, this time with a different technique, and used a few of the beer bottles on the table as a stabilizing factor. "Sometimes you gotta introduce a few wildcards to change the game, so to speak." "You done with the gambling metaphors?" Gabriel chuckled, getting a stuck-out tongue as an answer. "...you guys are playing some kind of double game," Arcade deduced, not sure what to make of this. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "If you have some aces up your sleeve, you might be able to break the bank." Gabriel grabbed the deck of cards out of her hands, ignoring her protests. "Enough with this now. And the bad metaphors!" Mika stuck out her tongue again and got up from the table to acquire some more beers, slapping Arcade's shoulder on the way. "Don't worry, buddy, the dice are not yet cast..."

[therummesoccupied]

IDW'S SONIC THE HEDGEHOG, ISSUE #71 - THOUGHTS

I absolutely would have continued putting this off, but then I found out that the 2024 Annual releases tomorrow, so I'd better get my ass in gear.

Issue #71 marks the end of the Extreme Competition arc... sorta. Evan has stated that she sees Issues #69-#75 all as the Phantom Riders arc. The Trade Paperback titles, however, refer to #69-#71 under the Extreme Competition name, so I'll keep using that for the time being, just to keep consistent with the release titles.

#71, like #s 70 and 69 before it, is an absolute banger. We've got Min Ho Kim back for pencils, really giving us a nice look at what they're capable of when handling action scenes - with the bulk of this issue taking place during a sort of Extreme Gear Dodgeball Match.

While most of the action is very clear and readable, there was one scene that I did have to glance at couple times to figure out what was going on.

I'm sure part of it was due to my colorblindness (deutan gang rise up), but I did not realize at first that this was meant to show a second Phantom Rider entering the scene. I thought for a moment Sonic had just rushed the field and was wondering why he had Duo's scarf. As soon as I realized it was a different guy entirely, it wasn't hard to piece together that this was Duo... or rather, it was Mimic. Who is Duo. Tomato tomato.

This second Phantom Rider is the source of pretty much all of this issue's juicy drama.

Using his clever disguise, Mimic throws Sonic off his game while riling everybody else up - Surge, Jet, Lanolin, all of them are dead set on catching this guy. He even switches forms over to Surge for a moment to set Whisper off and get everyone fighting each other.

It actually kind of goes to show that Mimic is a lot better at being the Phantom Rider than Sonic ever was, with Sonic's intentions behind adopting the persona being to throw off everyone's focus and cause a distraction. With Mimic throwing everyone's actions into disarray, he gets Sonic distracted long enough to unmask him.

An unintended consequence of this is that, while he escapes without being spotted himself, Tangle, Whisper, Surge, Kit, Jet, Wave, and Storm all see Sonic without his helmet.

And all of them have pretty interesting reactions to the whole thing!

Surge broods about it a bit, but is quickly distracted by meeting an adoring young fan.

Now, some of the eagle-eyed among you may notice - the little girl's mother is the Conductor's wife from The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog! It's a little weird that she's here, as SEGA continues to be fairly insistent that TMoStH is non-canon, but Evan Stanley, when asked about the appearance of characters from said game in IDW, has said that she simply thinks a similar event occurred at some point in this world.

Personally, my theory is that SEGA is eventually gonna just... change their mind and canonize it, and when that time comes, we'll probably get some retroactive explanation that all of this happens before that.

Anyway, in terms of what the encounter means to this story, it's neat to see Surge, who has been so caught up in the Hero Worship she's been receiving this arc, receive a more innocent adoration from a child who genuinely looks up to her. It gets her thinking for the first time about whether she deserves the praise she's sought as long as she can remember. This drives her and Kit to resolve to go straight and become heroes for real.

This is really cool! I didn't think we'd ever get any form of redemption arc for Surge, especially since I believe Ian Flynn stated at one point that it wasn't in the cards, that she was intended to be a villain always. And, to be honest, I don't know if it'll work out even with her trying. Clutch has got her and Kit on a pretty tight leash, and he's bound to do whatever he has to in order to reel them in if they start to get out of line. If the next issue previews are any indication, anyway.

Tangle and Whisper have kept quiet about what they saw to Lanolin, which Mimic/Duo seems to have picked up on, and appears to be attempting to use this information to drive a wedge between the Diamond Cutters and their leader. Meanwhile Tangle and Whisper have been trying to sort through things on their own, with the two of them making a couple observations to realize that there were, in fact, two Phantom Riders.

With this in mind, it looks like the two of them will be quietly looking into the matter on their own. I'm pretty sure they've largely pieced together that the second Rider is Mimic. If not, they'll have it worked out before long.

The reaction I find most interesting, though, is that of the Babylon Rogues.

Barely any time passes before, just using their heads, they work out almost exactly what's going on. And, while their motivation is entirely ego-centric, they resolve to uncover the foul play (heh) at hand and expose whoever's behind it. It's surprisingly cogent for them!

Then there's Clutch.

He's... upset. But of course. He's spent a good deal of effort to stay off Sonic's radar so he could avoid dealing with him until he was ready to do so. Now the world's greatest hero, who had no idea until recently that his operation even existed, is on his trail. One might understand why he's a touch unhappy. And honestly, I think the anger he shows here might be the most vicious side of Clutch we've seen. He doesn't normally have this much trouble maintaining his composure. It's interesting to see how badly he loses his cool when the house of cards he's built begins to tremble. I'm excited to see what the depths of that ferocity are in the upcoming issues.

Once again, the art, the writing, the plot, the colors, every aspect of this issue firmly slaps. I really, really enjoyed this arc, and I've become even more excited for upcoming material after finding out that every issue from 69 onward has been helmed solely by Evan! Not that I don't adore Ian and his writing, but if this is the standard we can expect when Evan gets to work on her own, I can hardly wait to see what she's cooking next. She certainly sounds eager for it, so I am, too!

Last thing to note, once again the fan mail section caught my attention, when at the very end, I noticed something:

They say that, next time, a "certain journalist" will get involved. The thing is, I'm really not sure who this could be. It sounds like it'd be an established character but... do we know any journalists in the Sonic franchise?

Maybe Omochao? Or Nite? They both work in TV and radio, but neither is really a journalist, per se.

The only actual reporter I can think of is Brenda Hernandez from Sonic Unleashed, but... she's a human! IDW has always appeared to be strictly forbidden from using human characters outside of Eggman. Though, a couple of them have been mentioned recently. To date, however, none have actually appeared. Could this be IDW finally shaking off some of SEGA's restrictions to play around with the bigger world a little bit? One can hope!

That's all I have to say on Issue 71, though, so as always, thanks a ton for reading all the way through, and keep an eye open for my 2024 Annual Review, as I hope to have it written and posted before Issue 72 drops later this week!

[leviathiane]

Selkie AU biology/culture

**These are my own headcannons for selkies that i use for my own works, not a take on the general selkie mythos.

selkies are considered the "cautionary tale" of many human hybrid ocean species. Mermaids and sirens especially raise their young on selkie stories to teach them not to go near humans, because otherwise they'll be stolen by a human.

It's actually more uncommon to find a selkie/selkie pairing than it is a human/selkie pairing.

Selkies are a migratory species and are largely meant to always be on the move, similar to how an albatross works-- they're at sea nearly all year and only come on land for the intent of children.

selkies are pretty solitary by nature and don't tend to travel in groups at all. This is true even in the event of a pup. Once the kid is weaned the parent disappears into the sea, and it is expected for the pup to do the same around 12-14 maybe 3-6 months after the parent has left. There is no real urge to find said parent. Gon is unique in this aspect as he is partially human and raised by humans, and thus socialized differently from typical selkie culture.

Selkies can only swim with their coat. its not that the water magically rejects them, but that their brains are geared with specific swimming instincts that dont cross over between bodies very well. As such, they try to swim like a seal as a human, and the human body just doesnt work that way so they drown. To reduce confusion in seal pups, young selkies are raised on the myth that they are simply unable to swim without their coat, to reduce the risk of wires getting crossed and accidental drownings. Learning to swim as a human could impair their abilities to swim as a seal. It's a bit like a language barrier, but in swimming.

selkies typically court with nipping, biting at the flippers and back of the neck

selkies, of course, find the return of a coat to be the highest form of romance, duty, and trust.

the idea of someone not just returning a coat but PUTTING IT BACK ON the selkie themselves goes BEYOND the height of romance and straight up into fantasy.

a selkie putting their skin on their partner is a massive show of trust and love: I trust you to return this to me, to keep me safe, and i love you so much that you are a part of me.

selkies Can actually wear things under their pelt, but its kind of uncomfortable. its best to have next to nothing between skin and fur. Think of it like the tag on the back of your shirt rubbing against your neck, or a bra strap digging into your shoulder.

selkies are very social, feeding and sharing food is an important gesture. hunting for a mate is an important gift. it shows a willingness to provide for their mate, as well as an attention to detail based on what foods they get-- how difficult to procure, how well they know their mates pallet, how many people (children) they can provide for. its a judge of character.

[whenthechickencry]

Umineko EP2. Replay Part 5

It is very funny to see all the different lying styles from the characters on reread - Gohda can barely keep liies straight and just stumbles, Kumasawa exaggerates like some tv drama.

Leaving out the one you already let die, I guess.

Battler gets it sometimes.

Got a script update from Shannon and Genji here I suppose. Also she was extremely tense in that scene so I guess she was told about Jessica and is feeling guilty and scared

Yeah Rosa definitely did not want to stay with Shannon and Genji here lmfao.Of all the accomplices she is the one that fucked around the least and would probably survive had there not been a bomb.

The fact Jess got shot on the back seems to imply Kanon just shot her in the back... I kind of hope it was instantaneous and she didn't figure out what was going on but it probably wasn't, just kind of hurts me to think she realized it was Kanon who shot her.

Rosa is a little pissed her Wolves and Sheep game didn't actually work out, huh? It's your fault as much as Gohda's, though.

Gohda not being sure what to say and Shannon setting up the mystery herself is pretty funny.

You can definitely see how much Rosa enjoys power tripping in this scene, and if you then connect the dots to how she likely treated Maria at home... Also trying to force Battler to acknowledge a servant as a culprit which he will again not want to do.

This scene is really interesting. From Battler imagining a ghost Jessica/Kanon to back up his theories to how he defended Kanon so hard... I imagine Yasu has mixed feelings about this haha. On one hand, him defending a part of them so hard probably feels good, though he's horribly off track and what he's arguing about doesn't matter at all. I am not sure if the key was left there or if Nanjo was just playacting as part of Team Yasu but either way, there's about 5 other master keys Yasu can easily get ahold of, or Gohda could have just pretended the door was locked when it wasn't, either way it's not a very tight locked. Also Gohda and Rosa both don't really know how to answer to Battler going completely off base, that definitely wasn't part of the script ahah.

Beatrice is trying to get him back on track here without much success though.

The first use of the red to deem Kanon or Shannon dead! I think some people were mad about that when the mystery was revealed but after episode 3 announcing everyone dead I couldn't imagine a solution that didn't require wordplay of some kind...

He's beggining to catch on to the fact he's thinking in an immature way, at least.

M-metal gear Beatrice?

For a total of 2 non accomplices/culprits uh uh

Seems Rosa isn't horribly sure of who the real wolves here are, she obviously knows they are all in cahoots but not the specifics, other than knowing Shannon is the mastermind, so she just sends them all. And Nanjo too a bit later, better safe than sorry after misjudging the Jessica situation by sending Gohda assuming he would be a safeguard, I guess.

Wew Rosa. A cycle of abuse is obviously a very big theme in Umineko in general but Rosa is super explicit about it on this chapter.

With Rosa being an obvious accomplice here you should really be listening to her about who the culprits are... but it's hard to trust the words of someone acting so heartless as a reader huh?

There's a lot of comparing Rosa to her siblings in this chapter, and the thing you are meant to be getting from that is about how all the abuse Rosa has received from them has been internalized and she is abusing others like she was abused. Also, Rosa saying she isn't a wolf because she has a gun obviously highlights a weakness of her wolf and sheep thinking, considering she is a wolf. At this point, the wolves will always outnumber the sheep but all the wolves have different motivations, so it isn't that simple.

Can't stop yourself from talking about how you hate Gohda even in this fantasy scene lmfao. What's probably happening here is they are discussing the next steps of the plan.

Kanon literally being Beatrice on this scene is kind of funny looking back. Also for how long-winded and scary this scene was all that happened was nothing was really happening in actuality lol. Considering they were no corpses Nanjo and Kumasawa were just told to hide for now and they'll get murdered later.

Yeah uh, Gohda isn't a very good actor lmfao.

She's freaking out after hearing other accomplices were murdered Battler.

Tbh I am kind of confused by the blood since I am pretty sure they aren't dead yet... I guess Yasu having prepared fake blood of some kind isn't too farfetched though. And Gohda's "the blood is theirs" seems confirmation the blood isn't theirs, otherwise it's a weird way to word that.

She's really trying to cut off his naive thinking since he isn't making effort on that on his own.

She's giving wiggle room to doubt Jessica by that not being in red though. Usually she passes suspicion on the servants.

He's breaking down about his theory being broken omg

Everything here is correct other than the word Jessica, though.

Sweet of you to think that, but no.