#when i tell you i literally screamed when this happened

[interstellar-productions]

Thinking so many thoughts honestly, about Aaron currently (spiritually not situationally I relate to him, it’s complicated). Aaron so specifically speaks to me because of how (at least with the crumbs we���re fed by canon) he internalizes and deals with his trauma. He WANTS to be normal. In fact he tries so hard to be normal (as society interprets normality) that he actively distances himself and represses any part of him that may lead people to viewing him as anything other then normal.

In my mind this was probably done intentionally, it creates a contrast between him and Andrew (and is probably why Neil is able to tell the twins apart pretty much from the get go). Andrew doesn’t speak about his trauma but he also doesn’t necessarily minimize it. Andrew makes himself big, body language wise he’s very loud. “Look at me, at what they did to me. Look at who I became”. Andrew is a warning sign, he lets his bleeding wounds show and mixes them with ragged bone and snarling teeth. Andrew is telling people without telling people what will happen if someone crosses him.

In contrast Aaron hides, his pain and his scares. Aaron turns everything inwards, shoving it all into closets and under beds. If he blends in then maybe no one will notice him enough to pick him out. Hiding in plane sight. Aaron works so hard to be normal and is canonically known as the least interesting and most normal fox, despite having a murder charge and being a recovered addict. He is the normal fox. People overlook him, glance right over him, his teammates, peers, everyone. Perfect grades, good at his sports, girl next door girlfriend. Aaron is so painfully NORMAL.

It speaks so deeply because it’s so obvious to me that its a coping mechanism and not actually because that’s how he really is. If he was just painfully normal we wouldn’t get some of his more violent or assholeish out burst and he probably wouldn’t have that grudge against Bee. His grudge against Bee is actually what sparked this whole thing for me. He hates Bee, he says that he’s never actually spoken a word to her and even when he starts sessions with Andrew he’s really just speaking to Andrew while Bee is in the room rather then directly speaking to Bee. My little psych major mind (mixed with my personal feelings but HUSH) is just screaming that this whole “I’m normal look right through me please I’m normal”. It’s how he COPES. This guy grew up at least a little bit inside a church (because Luther) and had to hide both bruises and addiction and whatever else was going on inside that house. Statistically speaking there’s two major ways you internalize trauma like that. And I love Aaron and Andrew because their those two ways basically. Aaron is trying so hard to be so Normal that he becomes basically invisible. Blending into the background.

He probably has everyone convinced that he’s got it all in the bag, all his shit? It’s in a sock, don’t even worry about it. He’s got the grades, the girlfriend and he plays a sport. Bro is literally sitting pretty to be so uninteresting that he gets nothing but a cursory glance, and it’s totally part of his scheme. No one’s going to think to ask questions he doesn’t want them too. Not about his past and not about what’s going on in his life. “Oh that’s Aaron yeah I’ve got advanced chem with him, yeah good guy. I think he plays exy.” Aaron doesn’t want people to ask questions, because he knows he’s towing the line. Does he have it all together? Or is he desperately trying to keep all his shit in the boxes he’s stuffed it in? Who knows. Aaron probably doesn’t even know.

Aaron gives me “fake it til you make it” vibes that it actually hurts my soul. This man wants to be normal so bad that he’s doing everything he can to not have to address what’s actually wrong, because acknowledging something’s wrong means acknowledging that he is in fact NOT normal. And he wants to be normal because being normal is how you survive. (How he got Tilda to not beat him for dragging the wrong sort of attention to her)

My psych major mind is absolutely consumed by AFTG because to me they represent all the different ways that trauma can manifest in people. Basically all of the foxes (even and Renee Wymack) are the violent kind. Their teeth and warning signs, don’t get too close, don’t step on my toes. But they all show it so differently. Renee for example is the healed sort of violent, she’s faced the majority of her demons and won, she knows she’ll be able to handle you if you step out of line (see her ruining the nest). Nicky is the loud kind. He’s not the break bone sort of violent but he is the make you uncomfortable kind. So much of Nicky’s early character (Foxhole court) is him giving off borderline predatory vibes. His jokes, his mannerisms, the whole Edens trip. It’s his version of violent. He makes you uncomfortable so he knows whose safe and who isn’t.

Then you have aaron and his whole character is a ticking time bomb. Aaron isn’t normal because he’s healed, he’s normal because its the only way he knows to survive. That’s why he doesn’t like Bee. Bee is a psychologist, her whole job is to know their problems and fix them and the fact he even has to go sit in a room with her is a threat to his overall performance of normality. Because normal people don’t NEED therapy.

Screams into the void, I’m so normal about him.

Also all of this is just my personal little ramblings about a purely fictional character that reminds me of myself as it relates to the topic of interest I’m currently studying. If you don’t agree with me that’s totally fine, if you have different preconceptions about him thats totally ok too. This is just my little brain rot corner of the internet and I’m just trying to have fun.

To the 3 people that wanted to see my deranged psych rambles i hope this reaches you, this is all for you!

[sabrondabrainrot]

I read this twice what a delight

😭👏 how are you so right about this ����😭

Can't get over how when Earth finally asked Monty about all the crimes they've done Monty straight up lied about hurting Sun. Monty still does it. And you're absolutely right about Monty just not even being worried at all about Sun being almost kidnapped.

Any time something bad happens to literally anyone in the family Sun is always the first to call or show up and be there. He's always been there for all of them and had even shown Monty a lot of support (Sun was the first to defend Monty when Nexus-Moon screamed at Monty.)

It's crazy to me that the only one really reaching out to Sun is Solar, the two who were according to both parties are not even that close. That's just sad.

That's just horrible.

And the family unintentionally set it up so when they did tell Earth she was already ready to work a day at the daycare so she couldn't go to comfort Sun.

Sun asked for help with Dazzle and that's somehow like an earth shattering ask from Sun.

Moon’s, Lunar’s and Monty’s (unsurprisingly) sheer, shameless apathy towards Sun is actually kind of galling.

No one mind Sun going to his room which doesn’t have a door and crying quietly because he knows in his heart of hearts no one’s going to come and see if he’s okay, so might as well not trouble anyone with his tears. Another brother he’s killed, and another one he’ll have to mourn in private because no one else (apart from Solar) will care.

Nah. Let’s talk about Nutella instead.

[fifthrideroftheapocalypse]

I really think streaming has ruined people's patience for watching weekly tv shows. all these articles and all these complaints about how we should be seeing this and that happening for Buck and Tommy to make sense are partly the result of people expecting things to just be handed to them on a platter.

Because when I see those arguments, I have two reactions:

1. we're only 5 episodes into an 18 episode season, and everything we've heard about 8x06 implies there's more to come with buck and Tommy.

2. It's already happening. I watch 8x01 and I watch 8x05 and it's like, what about these moments scream undeveloped to people? the development is there with those with eyes to see. but they are moments that you're supposed to extrapolate from.

Tommy's included in the Chris birthday celebration? Their relationship has grown comfortable enough that buck brings him to hang out with Eddie. *And* Tommy knows Chris enough to be asked to join that celebration.

Tommy takes care of Buck after he's injured? He knows his way around the loft, maybe has his own things there, and despite how ridiculous he thinks the curse is, he indulges Buck's research spiral while also telling him to go to sleep because those were the doctors orders.

Tommy and Eddie get along and are friends outside of buck and Tommy? Tommy's integrated into at least one part of Buck's life. The next step is to see how else he fits in, and they've been laying that groundwork for awhile.

Buck calls Tommy his boyfriend? They've had the label conversation, at least.

It's moving at a steady pace for me. What we haven't gotten is seeing them talk about their relationship with each other. But, we're literally about to get that. And, not everything has to be said in dialogue for it to be true.

This is a visual medium, after all. Look at the screen, and for once, just watch it without any fandom bias. You might find another interpretation that was sitting there all along.

I don't know if buck and Tommy are endgame, but it's not out of the realm of possibility. A breakup isn't either. But there is a story happening here. Up to you if you want to meet it where it's at.

[sokkastyles]

As the eldest daughter in my family, I've always kind of related to Katara in some ways. I wasn't parentified like she was, but whenever I saw her trying to keep things together for the Gaang in the show or whenever I see her being the emotional anchor for the Gaang in a way, I could really relate to that, especially because Katara is sort of always expected to be that person for everyone and she never really gets a break from it. I'm nowhere near as incredible as Katara is, but I have experienced being the person who was always expected to be kind and forgiving, always willing to compromise and understand, and never really being allowed to be mean or angry or even make mistakes in the same ways that some of my other family members were allowed to do. I've heard my family members say things like "that's just what that person is like, that's just what their personality is like, nothing you can do about it." It still frustrates me to hear that, because it often feels like I've never been given that same margin of error. I'm not an ideal older sister or daughter by any means and I've definitely made mistakes. I'm sure there must be other girls and women who can relate to this too. And I think one of the main reasons Zutara has always been, and still is, appealing to me is because Zuko sees Katara for who she is, the good parts and the less than perfect parts, and he doesn't ever make her feel guilty about any of it. He takes her seriously, gives her a lot of care and emotional support, and is very good at meeting her where she is and trying to understand her rather than dismissing the parts of her personality that he doesn't understand or are more complicated. That's the type of emotional support I would like from a partner one day, and I wish Katara and Zuko had ended up together for that reason too.

Tbh, when people (usually KA shippers) talk about Katara getting to be a child with Aang, they talk about in based on the idea that what she needs is to be like Aang. They want her to be carefree and do cute things like penguin sled. And even though Katara enjoys doing those things, when she penguin sleds with Aang, she doesn't actually experience herself as a kid again. Her reaction is "I haven't done this since I was a kid," and Aang points out that she talks as if she isn't still a kid, because she doesn't feel like one, and going penguin sledding doesn't magically transform her. If anything, that scene emphasizes how much Katara does not consider herself a kid. Which doesn't mean she isn't one, but Katara's attitude towards penguin sledding highlights her parentification, not reverses it.

When Katara acts like a kid, she often acts in ways that get her hated by the fandom. In what scenes does Katara actually get to experience being a kid again, I ask you?

Katara's inner child is not happy-go-lucky like Aang. Katara's inner child is selfish and full of anger and grief and fear. And validating that child is just as important as Katara getting the opportunity to play. I just find it interesting that certain people scream about letting Katara be a kid when she's doing the things that Aang wants her to do, and yet one of the episodes that show Katara the most in touch with the child she is is an episode where she gets accused of acting in a way that is not herself or too adult or too dark.

Katara avenging her mother and confronting the man who murdered her is an acknowledgement of Katara's stolen childhood and one of the most clear expressions she has of taking it back, literally reclaiming her identity. And she doesn't do it in a way that's innocent or kind or cute or wholesome or acceptably feminine, but it still comes from a need to be the child she is.

And Zuko is the one who makes that happen for her, and who doesn't tell her what the mature or proper way to do it is.

I read a quote recently from a review of the remake of Carrie that instantly made me think of Katara, and I feel like it's relevant both in the ways we talk about Katara as a heroic character and as a parentified child.

Whether she’s volunteering to take her sister’s place in the arena or grooming her son to lead the resistance; gunning down the gangsters who sell drugs to the kids in her neighborhood or swinging swords to avenge her daughter, the “strong female character” is often stirred by a maternal concern, a quintessential desire to preserve her community, to protect the weak and vulnerable. Her bad-assery must be in the service of a greater good. Even when she’s more ethically complex (like the Bride, who begrudgingly admits that all the people she killed to get to her daughter, “felt good”), she never takes a place at the table of Walter White’s grand epiphany: “I did it for me.”

- Laura Bogart, The Trouble With Carrie: Strong Female Characters and Onscreen Violence

Katara's actions in the Southern Raiders are one of the best expressions of her being a child because she does it for herself. She does it BECAUSE she is a child and she was hurt. When Katara is penguin sledding because Aang asked her to, it never approaches the point where she's doing it for herself or letting go of the idea that she isn't a kid like the others around her. It's only when she's confronting Yon Rah that she's acting not as her mother's replacement, but as the child who was left behind. The child who, like Carrie, needed the adults around her to protect her.

Of course, Katara's actions are nowhere near as extreme as Carrie's, but both stories tap into something intrinsic about girlhood and the desire for validation in a world that adultifies girls but at the same time tries to keep them infantalized.

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 6

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of this very underrated fic. Thank you to everyone who has given it love in the way of comments, reblogs/tags, and likes.

It's London calling! And we meet a Murray Bauman in the wild. Eddie and Steve get a little introspective and Steve does something rash.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Their trip through the haunting and beautiful Ireland was amazing. So many tales and history. This is why Steve wanted to do more than just America like Eddie had originally wanted, because America just didn’t have the history Europe and other places did. Not unless you wanted to disturb actual First Nation people and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, thank you.

They were on the ferry from Northern Ireland to Scotland and Steve was looking out over his shoulder at the water as he leaned against the guardrail. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair.

Eddie slid his arm around him and Steve laid his head on his shoulder.

Today Eddie had his beard and faux-dreadlocks in a light blue button up shirt and cream colored wide-legged pants. His chunky sunglasses covered the his face.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, “until we reached this leg of our journey and you started to disguise me, I didn’t realize how much I missed just being Eddie Munson, regular guy. I can really see the appeal of you and friends’ way of doing it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Of course it means that we can’t go all out and buy everything we want, stay in fancy hotels, show up at restaurants without a reservation and get in. But I can go into my local grocery store and buy two tubs of mint ice cream because I felt like it.” He lifted his head to look Eddie in the eye. “Like some Karen would judge me, but it’s not going to go up on TMZ that I’m letting myself go.”

God, Eddie had had that happen more times than he cared to count. Like once Chrissy was on her period and he went to go get her chocolate, Ben and Jerry’s, and pads. Before he even got to his car it was all over the internet that he was letting himself go, just because it was 2am and his best friend needed something to help her feel better.

“You think you’ll ever come out?” he asked, pulling Steve in closer.

It was a familiar and well-worn topic of theirs; whether or not Steve would ever come out as bisexual at least.

He ducked his head and looked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t like hiding parts of himself for those he loved. He would like to tell people this is the love of my life.

“Would you leave me if I said no?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

Eddie placed his finger under Steve’s chin and lifted his head gently. “Of course not, Stevie. There are literal actors who have been married for years and no one knows. It’s just between them. We could do that too. Just a quiet ceremony, Robin and Chrissy as the witnesses, and a justice of the peace.”

Steve let out a weak sort of watery laugh and shook his head. “I want all our friends there, famous and otherwise. I want a full tilt party with music playing into the early hours of the morning. I want fancy tuxes and flowers galore. I know I might not get that, the absolute coward that I am. But if I marry you, it be to scream from the rooftops that I love you.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Softy.” Steve blushed. “Besides there is nothing in the world that says we can’t have it both ways. Have a quiet little ‘just us’ and then go full tilt when you come out. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Just a little comfort that I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie kissed him deeply and then tucked his head under his chin and they stayed like that until the ferry docked in Scotland.

~

God, Scotland and England were beautiful countries Eddie decided as he watched the rolling green hills from his train window. That was another thing he really liked about Europe in general, just all the different ways to travel that weren’t a car.

He looked over at Steve who had his glasses on and reading a book. He smiled at the title. His boyfriend wasn’t a fantasy fan or science fiction either, really, but put a clever mystery in his hands and you would have to pry to the book from his cold, dead fingers.

He glanced over at Chrissy and Robin who were playing Go Fish! They had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he passed. He rarely got time to just relax and watch the scenery go by when he was on tour. He was always doing something related to the band. Writing music, practicing, talking about the next venue, interview, or TV spot.

Him and his friends had fun, because of course they did. But it was nice to just let his mind wander. Currently he was sad that they were going to have to miss Wales this time. He really wanted to buy some Welsh gold jewelry. It’s super rare and absolutely gorgeous.

Maybe he would have to come back later and get something special for Steve. Just something simple like matching bands even if it wasn’t on the left hand. Or necklaces. Just something simple to prove they were it for each other.

“I made an appointment with a well-known tattoo artist in London,” Steve said nonchalant, but like he was reading Eddie’s thoughts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Steve. Robin nearly giving herself whiplash in her speed.

“As your friend, manager, and platonic soulmate,” she said darkly, “I advise against that. You can cover it up but someone, somewhere will see it.”

Steve looked up from his book and leveled her with his best bitchy glare. “Not if it’s on my ass.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and they shared a shocked glance. Eddie always loved tattoos, he had a couple of stick and poke style ones from when he was young and stupid and couldn’t afford to pay for an artist to do the job, but there was one place, well technically two if you included his dick, which he absolutely did, that he refused to get a tattoo on and that was his ass. Not being able to sit down properly for what would probably be weeks was not his idea of a good time.

“Not really, though, right?” Chrissy asked with a grimace.

Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course not really. Sheesh, you guys. But I hid fucking hickies from the both of you for a year and you never noticed, so I’m pretty sure I can hide one fucking tattoo.”

Robin and Chrissy shared their little ‘manager’ glance and Chrissy folded first.

“You’re right, Steve,” she said calmly. “Not once did you forget or slip up and you should be applauded for that. But is there a reason you’re deciding to get a tattoo now instead of waiting until we’re back in the States and you can use Eddie’s personal artist?”

He looked over at Robin and their little telepathy thing went off again and this time Robin folded first.

“It’s for Eddie,” she murmured. “They can’t be out as a couple and with Steve being the romantic that he is, wouldn’t want to get married without all his friends there, so this is his way of telling Eddie he isn’t going anywhere either.”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “Do you think they take walk-ins?”

“I booked it for both of us.” Steve smiled at him and took his hand. Eddie beamed back at him.

“They are so disgustingly cute,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet Steve has this really sweet idea for a tattoo that even if people do notice it they won’t be able to tell the meaning but he and Eddie will know and be so sickeningly precious about it.”

Eddie gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. “I love my super clever boyfriend and can’t wait to see what this brilliant plan is.”

~

Steve’s brilliant plan was half of a white mask on Eddie’s inner wrist and half of guitar on Steve’s and when they held hands it formed almost heart.

The tattoo artist was really impressed with the idea and was more than happy to implement it. Steve walked out of there, completely smug as Chrissy pointed out. Deservedly so.

They were to stay in London for three days because of all the haunted places in London alone, there were so many worth visiting. They were going to start at Jack the Ripper tour and move onto the tour of London.

The tour they learned with deep dismay had accidentally been scheduled at 2pm and not 2am like Eddie had thought it said. It was so boring and their tour guide so dull, Eddie accidentally tripped of one of those concrete pillars they had in the middle of the sidewalk to prevent cars from driving up on it.

“Oof!” Eddie wheezed as he straightened up. “Why do they even put those things here?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” a nasally voice said from behind them. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

They all turned slowly to see a weaselly little bald man with thick horn-rimmed glass.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy said slowly. “Murray Bauman, as I live and breath. What the hell are you doing in London?”

He shrugged. “Eking out a living doing tours for bored tourists. When the biggest metal band in the world drops you, so does everyone else.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a grimace. Corroded Coffin had deliberately did that to Nancy after the shit she pulled with Steve and trying to be The Fallen’s agent. But this one was a complete accident.

“Oh fuck off,” Robin said with a grin. “You love it. I can tell. You have actual notes written down, you have a map marked with all the spots the murders take place. I bet you have all the great stories.”

Murray flushed and cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t want to brag. But yeah, certainly better than Molly over there.” He jutted his thumb at their tour guide. “Most of the good ones are from tour companies and then you get people like Molly who make it look legit online and trick people into taking day tours.”

“God, I was so bored,” Eddie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I felt jet lagged.”

Murray’s eyes instantly narrowed and cocked his head to the side and instantly everyone else tensed up. He took in their reactions and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you’re still in town tomorrow, meet me here at 9pm and I’ll give you a proper tour.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “Or what?”

“Huh?” He was confused for a moment before he smacked his forehead. “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to blackmail you. Holy shit. If people want to enjoy a vacation without all the publicity, good on them.” He looked Eddie up and down. “Looks good on you kid.”

Eddie was suddenly glad for the large sunglasses and beard because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

“No, I’m just saying,” Murray continued, “that if you wanted to experience a proper Jack the Ripper tour, I’m willing to do it. I don’t have a tour currently booked and beside I like her.” He pointed at Robin, who grinned back him.

The four them all shared glances at each other.

“I’m down,” Steve said with a shrug. “If you’re as good as you say you are and aren’t trying to actively ‘get back’ at Chrissy for taking your job, I know I’d be interested in seeing what Whitechapel has to offer after dark.”

“I like him too,” Murray said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So what do the rest of you say?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Steve’s three menaces said together.

He just smiled fondly and shook his head.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

It is time!! loll Love the preparation, and of course we share that childhood love. I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts on Part 1! 😘💓💓

Oh goodness the enemies to lovers is bubbling under the surface and I am already naming Dean and Mila's children.

Omggg plss. 😭😭 It is classic enemies to lovers, isn't it? Somehow that just occurred to me. 🤣 Girl now look what you did -- you have me looking up names for their future children. 🤣🤣 What was your top contender? lmao

This chapter really is one of the best scenes in Spirit, not to mention one of my favorite songs in that movie. "Get Off My Back" is legendary.

Omfgg yes, we've talked about this, but "Get Off My Back" is the best song of the movie and that whole sequence is my absolute favorite part, which is why I had to include it in this chapter.

I love her already. I mean I loved her from the moment that I found out she broke that jerk's nose, but a strong defiant woman. Yes ma'am here for Mila 1000000%.

I'm so glad to hear that, because Mila does not, in fact, play. 😅 She's a scrapper for sure. 💪🏽

He's already feeling!😏 And I really loved that he fought the smile when she spat in the Colonel's face. Because Dean is already smitten with this woman.

Hahaa yep, it takes Dean a lot to just stand there while a woman's being abused in front of him. It doesn't matter to him that she's an Indian. (And whether he wants to admit it or not, he's noticed her. 😏)

I really love this part, when Dean can sympathize with Mila and her people and why they continue to fight. It also really brings together the "realism" in this story. Especially with the "He doesn't always understand their way of doing things..." A lot of people fear what they don't understand and for Dean to have a more "open" outlook even being surrounded by people who don't is refreshing. And now Mila gets to show her all the wonderful things about her and her tribe! He's different and I love him.

That's exactly what I was going for. Dean is occupying that middle ground of doing what he has to because he's a soldier following orders, but he doesn't relish the work when it comes to fighting the Indians. Logically, he understands their side and can put himself in their shoes, and so he sympathizes. (Mila might just show him even more of her world.)

I also really liked the background you gave him. His father being in the army and that being the reason why Dean joined, and I can just imagine young Dean and young Sam riding horses and breaking them out on their family farm.

Oh thank you! I felt like that would be an appropriate parallel to the show. And I could imagine that aspect too with him and Sam being playfully competitive while they found things to do on the farm! lol

Okay also the fact that Mila calls Dean "Green Eyes" had me literally screaming lol. I was like, "girl I see you and I respect you for noticing how beautiful that man's eyes are."

LOL girl YES. Them fanfiction greens. 💚💚💚

I hope Roman falls off a watchtower and into a giant pile of poop (the size of the ones in Jurassic Park) and then dies. I mean he doesn't... because Dean destroys that man. BUT I hope that they shoveled his body away with the same shovel they use for all the horse poop. It's what the people want lol 😂

lmfaooo If ONLY. It's definitely what the people want. 😂

The descriptions of his hands made me hyperventilate. 😳 I am telling you the trope of a big strong man who has done terrible things with his hands and then is nothing, but gentle with his significant other WIPES ME OUT. Oh stars, I can't take it 😭

I see we have the same problem. 🤣 Because that man's hands (figuratively) do things to me loll. That trope will forever be one of my favorite tropes. I guess that's why I always go for the rogue/hard outer shell guy who softens himself only for his SO. 😭💞

It's true love and now I'm scared of what's gonna happen to them.

YOU TURNED BABY INTO A HORSE?! MASTERFUL! GENIUS! Oh my word I was not expecting that, but it made me so happy you have no idea lol.

I absolutely did! Thank you, my lovely!! 🖤🥰 Baby's reveal was one of my favorite parts of writing this chapter. I was picturing a bit of Black Beauty lol.

Again, so happy Roman is gone. Man is a whole problem and Dean is a problem solver lmao 😂

Dean is the freakin' Solution, let's be honest lmao. Roman is gone, but he might still be a problem, in that Dean may have some consequences to face for his choice...

Oh this chapter was absolutely wonderful and it was everything that I expected and SO SO MUCH MORE friend!❤️ Western Dean is quickly infiltrating my subconscious and someone is gonna have to raise Freud from the dead to work this one out for sure. I mean Freud's already gonna have to talk to me about Spirit, but that horse had an energy, it was voiced by Matt Damon, I was young and impressionable, and I can't be held responsible lmao lol😅 (catching myself in 4k)

Wow, thank you so very much, friend!! 🥰💜 I'm very happy this met and exceeded your expectations. But omg relating to you so hard right now because Matt Damon was perfection voicing Spirit!! I was watching Behind the Scenes stuff just the other day with clips of his performance in the recording studio and him talking about what he enjoyed/thought was special about the movie. 🥰

(And yeah, I know I go overboard with these gifs but I had a fun time here lol)

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

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Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

COMING 11/10! (New chapters every Sunday.)

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[weemietime]

Why the FUCK are you bringing up the Iraq war to defend Israel

That's like saying "oh you think ISIS is bad? Did you know America dropped agent orange on Vietnamese?"

Nigga we think both of those things are fucking terrible

Why the FUCK are you bringing up the Iraq war to defend Israel

Read my pinned post, for it explains in excruciating detail why it is important to treat every person and every country on Earth with equity and dignity. It is that fucking simple.

we think both of those things are fucking terrible

The problem is that you don't, actually.

Because you treat equivalent situations (actually, the Iraq war was far worse) with different standards. Which means that you don't actually have a problem with the situation, but rather with the parties involved.

It is not my fault that you are unable to read and comprehend the very plain and clear explanations that I have already laid out for you. But just in case you didn't get the memo, here are some posts I have made in my private friend group that elucidate it clearly to you fucking imbeciles.

Honestly it's an emotional thing for me because I've seen a lot of the unrwa materials for schools in Gaza that actively teach kids to cheer for dead Jews, sinwar was found with a unrwa employee tag, unrwa members participated in Oct 7th, the UN is being very quiet about condemning the sexual abuse that happened during this pogrom. They did finally say they found it credible but this was instantly buried and is never brought up by any UN officials any longer, the UN first didn't even admit to complicity and now are saying they want immunity for their unrwa employees who were complicit, countries like Russia and China are using their seats at the UN to push the narrative of genocide with no evidence and zero pushback while the UN platforms their voices and refuses to condemn their genocidal actions and it just feels like, you know, part of the intergenerational trauma of the Holocaust is that the international community at the time, the league of nations, was also very lackluster about condemning the genocide against us and did indeed have many member states who openly supported and participated. I mean this was an attack that was planned for 15 years by people who pretended for generations to be the friends of these peace activists and shit. It's just a theme of betrayal and the feeling that we Jews are alone. Because the loudest voices from every country are shouting from the river to the sea lol. Is it a totally factual statement, is it a cognitive distortion, probably. But there is a real sentiment behind the words that is born from pain, not just shit posting

Of course it's a lot. Even one is too much. But every time these dipshits talk they say "Israel killed 40,000 children." No, the official number given by Hamas and the UN is 7,797. Plus 4,959 women. That's 12,756 civilians. Out of a 40,000 death toll, that is 27,244 Hamas combatants killed meaning the ratio of combatants to civilians dying is 2.25:1. This is an INSANELY good C/C ratio and is the numbers that Hamas has given. The normal C/C ratio is 9:1, the USA C/C ratio in Iraq was 4.46:1 out of 174,000 meaning a 77% civilian casualty rate. And look at how people talk about the war in Iraq and Iraq war veterans and Americans and tell me that matches how people are discussing Israel. You know? I'm not blaming people for being antiwar. For being horrified. For not wanting to send ammunition or weapons. For being appalled at Israel's use of Lavender. But the double standard is very devastating because when 9/11 happened the world mourned with the USA. When Oct 7th happened, a literal pogrom, people literally spit in our faces, shut down universities, scream at us on the streets, fire bomb our synagogues, gang rape our children for being Jewish (happened in France), cheer gas the Jews, you will not replace us, Zionists are rats, kicking us out of cafes, interrogation us to see if we're a "good Jew". Like you don't understand how the atmosphere has changed in North America and how virulently antisemitic its gotten. Our memorials for our dead have to be held in secret. Because people deface them, vandalize them, and show up to protest screaming through a megaphone that we are baby killers while we are crying over our babies being killed. And eighteen year olds are being sent to fight in war in our behalf because every country around our homeland has declared they wish to exterminate us. And that taps into the very real intergenerational pain of the Holocaust.

I've seen protests that look no different than Nazi Germany protests against the Jews. It is wrenching. Most Jews I know have lost their entire friend groups literally over night. Lost their living arrangements. Have professors fail their work if it's about Jewish history. Teach that Zionism means Jewish supremacy and conquering the middle east because we are all from Poland. It hurts. It hurts. And I know that Palestinians are suffering, too. 12,000 innocent people were killed. And I mourn them as much as I mourn my own people. But no one else is going to mourn our dead but us. The world has shown that they cheer when we die. And that hurts.

If I say "I'm grieving the actual people that I PERSONALLY KNOW WHO DIED IN A POGROM" people turn around and scream at me that I am a pedophile rat Zio Nazi genocidaire baby killer. When this first happened I posted the article "bombs fall in sderot" and joked "haha idk if my friends are safe." well my friend wasn't safe. She fucking died.

Ppl don't understand how small the Jewish community is. Whenever Jews meet up we play Jewish geography and we ALWAYS find someone we know in common. When Pittsburgh happened people in my community bc we are conservative Jews too, knew the victims. Ppl I know post about having to go to a bomb shelter all the time, their friends dying in terrorist attacks, experiencing terrorism as children etc these are innocent people who have nothing to do with fucking ben fucking Gvir

My friend is a gdmn [redacted] she deserves to die???? Okay all Americans deserve death because of Iraq. All Russians deserve death because of Ukraine.

Conscription is wrong and we should be protesting against it but no not every Israeli deserves death just as no Palestinian civilian deserves death even tho many of them are radicalized as children to want Jews dead and to join Hamas and get conscripted as well. THIS SUBJECT IS COMPLICATED. and anyone who reduces it to one side vs the other good vs evil is full of fucking shit.

Like I always say the settler colonial language I feel is misguided in some ways because of the whole Israeli population we have 70% Jews, 61% of that 70% were not migrants during waves of Zionist aliyah they were expelled and murdered and ethnically cleansed from Iraq Afghanistan Iran Ethiopia Yemen (every single Jew in Yemen was expelled to Israel) and they literally have no place to go.

Which is why from the river to the sea, means they will end up being literally pushed into the sea lol. And then 20% aren't even Jewish they are Arab, where will they go if Hamas takes over Israel and tries to enact extremist fundamentalist religion when they're used to living in secular democracy? They go into the sea too. Now 31% are European descent of those, many are from Russia which means they were kicked out and not Zionist oleh as well. But then we get into the west Bank where Israeli Jews are literally living as settlers and literally calling themselves settlers and perpetrating violence. The legal terminology of this all is also twitchy. Technically it isn't apartheid because Palestinians aren't Israeli civilians but we cannot ignore Hebron where Israelis literally dump piss and shit and garbage on their heads so they had to build a fucking net. Okay maybe it's not legal apartheid but it's obvious fucking degrading and they are not free to move or work or have the same rights regardless of who is in charge and we need to fix that. We also can say ok it's not a genocide in Gaza bc the numbers suggest of 40k, 12k were civilians according to Hamas themselves giving a 2:1 civ casualty ratio. The normal ratio is 9:1 so it legally cannot be called genocide. But Lavender is indiscriminate targeting civilians and bombing the place to fucking rubble which is a war crime and the Israeli government must be held accountable for this. Hamas does war crimes too they fired 20k rockets per year for 20 years into Israeli residential zones

[10:38 PM] Anyone who reduces this conflict to one side good one side bad is a fucking idiot. There is harm and suffering and complexity on both sides and both sides must be held accountable and then work for peace and prosperity

In conclusion: if you have nothing constructive to say, you can do everyone a favor and shut the fuck up.

[cutietrait]

Ro and Bea cannot catch a break from these new home nightmares (♪)

[thepunkmuppet]

on the subject of the new magnus protocol. RRRRARAAAHAJKAKKSUWJLWOOWHEVDNKDPFOEUEGHWPEPRIJEBWVKWLSLIDHENWLSKHEHEKWWOUEHEBDKDLEIEHWBIWOEJDBDBEKEKOELRURYEPPWKFBVEJWLPAPWIUEBRHRKLDLSPWKJENRIELLEJRBRKJWKWKWLLSOIEBRVJELSPODUEHGEJSOALWOWOUEVDCODLEPPWOWUSGUEKEBHFOOFEYWHWOCJURPEPWLDJGEJEKEAJHAJDKOEWIHWGSIEOEOUEGEVDNCKLEOQOIEIRHRHEKODKSBWJWOOPOOPOYGEHKWKSJSHHWNKWLSLJEEBRKLELPWPWHEVDBKEEIEGNSOENEHELEPRLRHHENEKEPEJRGE

[bakudekublogblog]

god thinking about katsuki murmuring "gotta win... right izuku?" right before charging right into his death is so so so fucking batshit insane of a thing to include. like he's yearning for him. like not only is he speaking as if izuku is still at his side, but he still remembers what izuku said to him all those months ago and is fighting to live up to the version of himself izuku admired. and then he goes "tell me.... izuku.... can i still reach you" CAN I STILL REACH YOU LITERALLY LONGING FOR HIM, TELL ME, ONE LAST THING BEFORE I GO, JUST TELL ME IF I CAN REACH YOU FUCKING I'M LOSING MY MIND OVER HERE IT'S PEAK PINING TRAGIC ROMANCE

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Asagiri and Harukawa could not have delivered a scarier Halloween chapter if they tried because what the fuck was this—

[quixotin]

(spoilers ahead) s3 finale legend of vox machina 10000/10 BUT

feel like they could've milked those last 3 episodes for at least double the run time.

It felt rushed compared to the rest of the season. I mean, each individual quest could've lasted just as much as the arc that led to Percy's death, but alas, Amazon and its season standardization is here to kill creativity and the arts.

The fact they rushed to tie up all the loose ends killed the emotional payoff they had set with earlier stakes. For example, Percy's revival and his reunion with Vex. Even Keyleth's declaration to Vax. Which btw, looking back, it's sad they put Vaxleth on the backburner. I'm a Perc'ahlia stan first and human second, but Vaxleth felt almost as a sidequest compared to how pivotal Perc'ahlia was to the season. I guess Vaxleth will have its moment to shine in the sun once...... the thing happens, but idk, I wish they had let us savor the moment a bit more for both ships.

I just wish, ya know, they'd given us a bit more brainrot.

Anyway both ships got to fuck this season and Vex still graced that pathetic, smitten sod with the best tits in Exandria ia so it's still a 1000/10 😌😌😌

Also! I gotta say I'm intrigued with how Percy will end up with Cabal's Ruin. I don’t watch the live play (shh don’t judge me i have a short attention span) but as far as I understood, the last fight with Ripley is where Percy would have gotten it?? I guess they're saving that for the Vecna arc.

Anyway, I still love it lol and I'm glad they did bring back best boy no mercival percival because his existence holds my sanity with the thinnest mf thread 😌 and when i tell you i was at the edge of my seat when we were halfway through the finale and there was still no sight of my favorite dumbest nerd.

girl i stopped breathing for a sec there

[bumblingbabooshka]

In 'vis a vis' Janeway doesn't mention B'Elanna in the list of people who're worried about Tom which implies that B'Elanna didn't report the fact that "Tom" grabbed her arm, called her a disappointment and broke up with her (as Janeway definitely would have mentioned it as evidence of him acting strange if she knew about it) which makes sense on several different fronts but also makes me scream and cry loud enough to break glass.

[petrichorium]

I also think abt like a scenario where ur dating Fatgum and just moved in together and like you have seen his thin form ofc but. Like a week in he comes home from work in his thin form and you’ve already gone to bed and he just slips in and in the morning well. Groggy morning brain is NOT the best to comprehend that the strange man in your bed is in fact ur pro hero boyfriend and not some rando

[anotherpapercut]

working with children really will make you examine your thought processes and emotional reactions like nothing else. I've found myself being so much more thoughtful in my daily life about how I respond to my emotions and environment, as well as the reasoning behind why others behave the way they do

[sandinthepipes]

God themselves couldn't convince me that there isn't pure cocaine imbued into Merthur fics