#broken skull ranch

[writeandsurvive]

"PANCHO DON'T LEAVE ME" 😭😭 Steve and Pancho: a love-hate story.

[delopsia]

Thinking about all the things Rhett had to deal with while growing up on the Abbott ranch and how his world tips on its head when you come into his life.

He's forever conscious of how Perry was born out of love, and he was born because Royal realized that it would be cheaper to have his kids working than it was to hire help. Poor Cecelia was so blindsided by her baby fever that she didn't realize why Royal went back on his "I only want one kid" statement until after Royal hauled five-year-old Rhett out to work on the ranch for the third day in a row. An entire two years younger than Perry had been when he started working.

And the problem with Royal, is that arguing with him only makes him dig his heels into the dirt, refusing to sway on his decision.

Most of the kids in his school worked and had their responsibilities to help keep the household running, but Rhett was the only one who had to do his homework on the bus because otherwise, he wouldn't have time to do it until he went to bed. Just like he was the only kid to miss every single field trip, because why should he go to the zoo with his class when he could be working with Royal?

He doesn't understand why his dad snaps at him for crying over his injuries but soon comes a time when he doesn't care about the bruises littering his arms. Gets annoyed when Perry cries about crushing his hand. Nothing's broken; there's no reason to get worked up over it.

That exact thinking keeps him quiet the first time he gets hurt bullriding. So focused on chasing the same small-town glory as his father that he doesn't mind the sprained ankle. Getting on again and again because, for a few fleeting seconds, the crowd cheers his name, and the sound of their applause is the thing he's grown to crave.

There was some point when the workload in the house started shifting. When Perry was starting to reach the end of his high school days, started to fight a little harder against Royal's iron fist. And with an explosive temper that nearly dulls Royal's, it only made sense that he started getting his way. Enjoying days off, weekends spent touring colleges, and venturing out into the real world, because of how his explosive demeanor always devolved into threats that shook his momma to her core.

But one less pair of hands on the ranch meant that the others had to take on more work, and with Royal's old bull riding injuries coming back to bite him, Rhett was the only one capable of taking it on. But just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Hiring just one ranch hand would have made all the difference, but the prospect of losing money is something Royal's always disagreed with. Slowly, Rhett's work days grow longer. Dinner time no longer makes the end of his work, having to go back out to finish up while everyone else showers and settles in for the night. Waking up before school to get a head start on chores, hoping he'll be done early tonight.

It never happens. Where he finds free time, Royal finds things he could be doing, and Rhett starts learning that lying about needing to do store runs is the only way he'll get a break.

The way Royal refused to let him and Perry have cellphones until they turned eighteen and could buy them with their own money. The result of a privilege revoked after a thirteen-year-old Perry got caught on his phone at two in the morning ended with a smashed phone and a brutal reminder of where the eldest son gets his anger from.

A rule that was forced to be overturned when Rhett was sixteen. All because something in the west pasture spooked his horse; she'd run him clean over in her attempt to get away from it, and he never saw her coming. He still doesn't remember hitting the ground, but he does recall the splitting ache in his skull when his eyes finally reopened.

With no cell phone, he had no way to call for help, forced to limp home on foot. He didn't get home until after dusk because Royal had written his absence off as teenage rebellion. A hospital visit later, Cecelia went behind her husband's back to buy new phones for both of her boys, but even the justification of keeping her boys safe wasn't enough for Royal. Because Rhett had made it home and was fine at the end of the day.

Then Rhett's eighteen, and he's just barely maintained his grades to graduate. He's got it in his head that he's going to move out, get out of this stuffy old town, and pave his own way, doing something, anything. But now Perry and Rebecca are moving into the house with their daughter, and Rhett's being asked to put off his plans until they get settled in.

He's nineteen when he gives up on trying to leave because something always needs him to stay home a little longer. He's twenty when he figures out why Royal drinks so much beer, gets hooked on the way the bitter liquid makes the ache in his shoulders disappear, and for the first time in a while, he's happy. Because you can't remember your sorrows when you're drunk.

Rhett's twenty-one when he can start wandering into bars, and he's twenty-one when he learns that there's a group of girls who come to rodeos, hoping to catch a steamy night with a bull rider, no strings attached. It's strange to kiss a girl you don't know the name of, waking up alone in a hotel bed with hardly any memory of what happened the night before. But for a few splitting seconds, he doesn't feel so alone in this big world, and he's clinging to it with every fiber of his being.

Until that's not enough, either. The scream of the crowd, the electric touch of those pretty girls that cheer his name, no longer make his days easier. Beer quits chasing away the pain in his joints, the prescription painkiller for an old injury in his wrist had might as well be candy, and he can only escape it by blacking out. He doesn't remember getting that DUI, but Officer Joy tells him that he was muttering about how Royal wanted him to chase down a cow that broke through the fence. He's in such rough shape that she intentionally forgets to discharge him, hoping the day of rest will do something to get rid of the bags under his eyes.

She isn't quite sure what to think when she learns that he's practically been running the Abbott ranch for the past few years. Royal always fails to mention his youngest son when he brags about his ranch.

Then you come along.

A fresh new face, one of the only people to move into Wabang rather than out of it because your new job led you all the way out here. It was Sherrif Joy who suggested you visit the Amelia County rodeo once or twice, and you'd only gone because there was nothing else to do. Rhett didn't notice you until Joy came to congratulate him on his ride, with you glued to her side. He hasn't stumbled through a hello in years, but he can hardly get it out of his mouth.

Your face sticks in his head while he works, and God, he doesn't even know your name, but his heart is jumping in his chest when you run into him at the store, time and time again. Until he finally cracks and starts a conversation with you while waiting in line, and somehow that ends in the two of you standing in the parking lot, talking until the store closes. An invitation to get drinks turns into dinner dates, and he's got something to look forward to again.

All of a sudden, you're massaging his overworked hands and cradling his scruffy face like he's made of glass. Whispering about how he needs rest and deserves all the love you shower him with, and he's not sure what to make of that. Can never figure out why his eyes water that first time he lays his head on your chest, listening to the pitter-patter of your heart while you play with his hair.

His momma is the only one whose ever done that; she stopped when he was fourteen.

He doesn't know how to tell you that he loves you. Those words choke in his throat every time he tries to utter them, stifling him into a painful silence that he can't escape. Instead, he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He works.

Replaces the busted locks in your doors, changes the oil in your car, he builds the porch you say you wanted, and he tinkers away at the little household annoyances. You want a fence? He's got it; he just needs to get up earlier to have time to build it. You're telling him that he doesn't have to do all these things for you, but work is the only thing he knows how to do. If he stops, then what else can he give you?

He doesn't understand what you see in him; he's not as energetic and fun as those other rodeo guys who eye you up every time they see you. They have more money, they're stronger, don't have the aches and pains of an old man, and they haven't got the reputation of being the town casanova.

He doesn't understand how you look at him like he's something precious—some priceless thing that deserves the world and more. There will come a day when you realize you deserve better, more than he could ever hope to give you, and he knows it'll break him, but he lets you love on him anyway. Because a few months spent with you is the best thing he could ever ask for, even if you walk away in the end.

But you're not walking away. Fuck, he's probably given you more opportunities than the Lord can count, but for some reason, you stay. And you're spending your first Christmas together, he's buying you too many sweets for Valentine's Day and he's spoiling you on your birthday, only to get confused when you surprise him with cake on his own birthday. Can't remember the last time he blew out candles, only realizes he was supposed to make a wish three days later.

Selfishly, he wishes that you'll be with him forever.

You're taking him to the zoo for one of your dates, and for the first time in his life, he's looking back at a tiger, and it's so, so different from the pictures. There are otters, bears, cheetahs, and wait, wait! Why are there goats in a zoo? Hasn't everyone met a goat before? What's so special about these ones? And how the fuck are giraffes so tall?

Royal says the red-panda plush Rhett hauls home is a waste of money. He could have saved that money to invest in land or a future, but all Rhett can think of is how, when he squeezes it to his chest at night, he can almost deceive himself into thinking it's you instead.

But then comes that big argument; he forgets what its about midway through, because he's realized that this is it. This is when you realize that he can't give you what you deserve. He can't blame you, but that still doesn't stop him from breaking when you walk out to your car.

He doesn't know what the hell to think when he realizes you're in the room with him. Couldn't hear the squeal of the door over the choked noises coming from his own mouth, eyes so clouded with tears that he can't even see you. But he can feel your arms around him, and he doesn't want to hug you out of fear of this being a dream. Yet you're still there, and you're not promising you're never leaving him, and he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand. And it scares him so bad that he shakes with it.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to let go of him because he clings to you with this fear that you've never seen before. Words aren't enough to convince his broken heart that you're not going anywhere, and for the first time since you met him, he talks. Spills every fear and thought he's ever had through his hiccups, confirms your suspicions of how much he hurts, and unveils the sources of his insecurities.

Your big cowboy falls asleep with his face buried in your neck, and he's still there when you wake up. It's the third time he's stayed in bed and didn't go to work, but it's the first time he's chosen to stay. Usually, it's a physical injury that forces him to stay down, but this is an injury you can't see. A fracture in who he is, broken after a lifetime of increasing pressure that he never stood a chance against.

He follows you into the kitchen, no longer trying to conceal the limp in his left foot as he tries his best to help you cook breakfast. You don't know where his appetite came from, but you've never seen him meekly ask if he can make himself more fried eggs.

It's only after that he remembers the argument about how you got a job offer that would take you a few states away. Out of Wyoming and away from him. But it's your dream job, and it hurts to see Rhett's bottom lip wobble as he weakly tells you to go for it. Dreams come first, after all.

Like many things, he doesn't know what to think when you tell him your dream has changed. You want him to come with you. Leave this flyover town, find a job that doesn't ask the world of him, and share a cute little house with you somewhere in the countryside. He doesn't get why you'd want it with him, but fuck if that isn't the one thing he's always wanted.

Royal thinks that Rhett's lighter attitude is because of his recent decision to move in with you. Cecelia already knows what Rhett's up to without needing to be told.

It takes a year for you to move. Just after you lock your front door for the last time, Cecelia's car appears in the driveway. Neither of you can figure out how she knew you two were moving out today, but she's brought a box of things that her youngest deserves to have. Pictures, his first belt buckle, that first cellphone that got drowned in the kitchen sink, and a freshly knitted blanket. A housewarming gift. She says it's good luck for a couple to have one and to not hesitate to call if you need anything.

That blanket sits on the back of the couch in your new living room. Rhett only curls up with it when he's feeling homesick, which had might as well be the entirety of the first six months in this new house. He finds a job at a local ranch, is lucky enough to have his beloved horse shipped out to stay there, and slowly, his true colors start to bleed through.

Or maybe they were always there, simply dulled by the exhaustion that once seemed to permanently sit in his weary bones.

Because his smile reaches his eyes more often, and his prescription painkillers have long since expired. His body a touch softer, the result of a rediscovered appetite, and he reaches for you more than he does a can of beer. Gripings about his father are replaced by laughter that echoes down the hall. He's still got that limp, but he chases you up the stairs quicker than he used to. Those gaudy belt buckles never leave, and never do you. Always there when he comes home from work, ready to meet him for his favorite welcome-home kiss.

Rhett will never be the son Royal asked for, but he will always be the man you've dreamed of.

And he's more than enough.

[sailor-aviator]

Maybe a Drabble about Jake carving the horse for Scout? Ha ha jk, unless 👀

I wanted to do this before publishing Chapter Eight 👀

Jake wasn't sure how to feel after his argument with you. On one hand, you were an excellent shot and he questioned why that didn't shock him as much as he thought it should.

On the other hand, the sight of you in the saloon had him terrified. What would have happened to you had he not shown up when he did? Isaac had been so close to...no. He couldn't think of that now. He had made it, he reminded himself. You were safe for the time being.

Jake wasn't a naive man, he knew that Isaac wouldn't lay low forever. Isaac was a calculated and cold man. He would strike when the time was right. He knew Maverick would keep an eye on you, but it was the fact that that thought didn't even bring him comfort which gave him pause.

He had always looked up to Maverick, seeing him as a father figure ever since his died in the outbreak all those years ago. Maverick was strong and dependable. But Jake knew that he would worry about you until he got back to town, that much was certain.

Jake paced along the street, debating on what to do. He needed the money that would come from this job, Sarah and Billy depended on it. But the nagging inside him said to not leave you alone. He'd never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

He wasn't sure when his feelings for you had become so strong. Javy told him that he was smitten from first sight, and Jake supposed he was right. You were fiery, and you didn't let him get away with shit. He liked that about you.

He huffed out a sigh before plopping down on the porch in front of the saloon, grabbing one of the logs Penny kept for the fire. Jake wasn't sure when he had started whittling, but he knew he enjoyed it. It helped keep his hands and his mind busy when he was troubled. He never knew what it was he was going to carve until the figurine already sat in his hand, finished.

Jake sat there thinking about you, his pocket knife digging into the wood harshly as he thought back to the events from earlier that day. He had never seen you that vulnerable, and his hands itched to track Isaac down and put a bullet through his skull. He thought about how your eyes glistened with tears that mixed with the blood from the scratch on your cheek. Your clothes had been torn and you had looked at him with such a sense of relief that it had his heart aching in his chest.

But he had also seen the claw marks on Isaac's skin, the blood running from his mouth. You had fought him, his girl was a fighter. His chest swelled with pride at the thought of you fighting the larger man, and a smile twitched at the corner of his lips.

Yes, you were a fighter, the voice inside him preened. Maybe that was why he liked you so much.

He thought about how your eyes blazed every time he tried to flirt with you, how you scowled at almost everything he said. You were so cute when you pouted. You were even cuter when you tried to cling onto that prim and proper act, but Jake could see the wild streak in you. It was one that could never be broken, and Jake decided right then and there that he would build that streak up, wanting to see who you really were behind your fancy clothes and words.

Jake also thought about how you looked working in your garden. The dirt covering your face and dress as you toiled away, the pinch of your brows as you concentrated. The very thought brought a small smile to his lips. He kept carving.

Your skin was so soft, and where most girls would be determined to keep it that way, you had insisted on taking on as many chores as you could around the ranch. Jake remembered how exhausted you had looked when he popped by unannounced that one day, your face red from excursion, your hair plastered to your forehead from the sweat. He wanted to kiss you right then and there.

His mind raced with thoughts of you as he continued to carve, and before he knew it, the blue light of the early morning greeted him. He blinked, looking up as he finished his last cut. He grimaced at the thought of riding out today with no sleep, but one look at the figurine in his hand had him feeling at ease.

The horse stared back up at him, poised in its grace, but looking like it was ready run wild at any moment. Just like you, Jake thought. He smoothed his thumb over the back before turning it over, carving his initials into the belly.

He slowly moved from his perch, muscles aching from being in the same position for so long. He stretched before making his way back down the road to your house. The town was quiet as he made his way towards the outskirts, and your home stood proudly in all its fine glory as the sun began to peak over the horizon. Jake trotted up the steps, debating on where he should leave his gift. He settled on the railing by the steps, placing the horse so that it faced the front door.

"Watch over her for me until I get back, yeah?" He told the figurine. It stared back at him, and he let out a soft chuckle. He gave one last look at the front door before turning and walking back towards the saloon where his friends waited for him.

[adelaidedrubman]

wipfire wildsday. or something

was tagged for wip day by dearies @cassietrn and @direwombat, thank you! against all odds we are back on wildfire chapter 19! here’s a very shaky early draft little excerpt of jestiny being her lovable charming relatable self. warnings for violence and killing that is… not particularly gruesome or gory but perhaps particularly cruel. wildfire is a romcom as we know

“Alright.” She cut off his self-important monologuing with a press down of her thumb and a laugh, wedging the radio between her shoulder and ear to continue talking as she reached to place hands on either side of the cultist’s head. “Let’s play a fuckin’ game then, and you can show me just how much you actually fucking care.”

“Excuse me?”

“You value their lives so much? Let’s see if you can save this one.” She leaned down, so terrified sobs could be picked up by the meager speakers. “I let her limp off with no more than a broken arm. If you can do one. Simple. Thing.” She paused for effect before clarifying, “Tell me her name.”

“What on earth are you —”

“You fucking heard me,” she ground out. “Show me how much you actually care. Tell me the fucking name of the woman you sent out here to die for your fucking bullshit excuse for a cause,” she demanded. “Pale. Skinny. Ballpark five-two. Freckles. Green eyes. Curly brown hair. What’s her name?”

“Whatever infantile point you think you’re proving —”

“Would putting a voice to it help?”

She jammed a knee down on the twisted limb, grabbing a fistful of brunette curls to yank back and guide her screams towards the radio. 

“Please —! P-Please —”

“I think she’d like you to remember her name too, John,” Jestiny offered in a sugary sweet sing-song, pressing a hand back over her mouth. “What the fuck is it?”

“Do you think you’re doing anything but displaying every ounce of bloodthirsty wrath pulsing through your —”

“C’mon, surely you remember her?” she pressed with a rise. “She’s family, after all. You wouldn’t have just been bullshitting about how much you care about ‘every single soul I rip from it,’ right?” she teased in mocking falsetto. “Shoveled pig shit at the farm for y’all. Would be leaving behind a younger sister by the name of Stephanie. Guess that brainwashed cultist!”

“— can all now see it isn’t enough for the Deputy to simply take from our Family, no. She has to revel in her cruelty, to —”

“Maybe he could use a phone-a-friend, ya think?” Jestiny hummed, yanking her captive up by the hair again. “Think fast — aaanything he would remember you by?”

“I — I —” she let out a few more sobs, before sniffling and continuing. “We never talked much, sir. But I was over at your r-ranch a little while back, with B-Brother Will and Brother Nathan. When Brother Nathan h-had to be corrected for gossiping about —”

“Well, that oughta jog his memory, huh?” she said with a click of her tongue against teeth as she shoved the woman’s head back down into the dirt. “Got a name for me yet, darlin’?”

“Brothers and Sisters and wayward souls in need of salvation alike, listen to the lows this sinner who would ask to be called a savior will stoop to in order to —”

“No! Please, please, please, no —” The woman cried up at Jessie, features that had been contorted in agony seeming to sink with hopelessness as John preached on. “I don’t want to die, I’ll do — anything! Please, I —” 

“Clock’s ticking!” Jestiny chimed into the radio. “Give me a fucking name!”

“Do you think you set the rules here?” John snapped, finally breaking down to resume addressing Jestiny directly. “Do you think any of this cuteness and cleverness is going to save you when —”

“I think I’m the one asking the fucking questions!” she shouted over pained screams. “What’s her name?!”

“Deputy Rook, mark my words —”

“Her name!” she screeched, hands tensing. “What’s her fucking name?!”

“Jessie —”

“Bzzzzzzzzzzz-zzzzzt!” She kept her jaw pressed down on the talk button as she held tight onto her skull and twisted, so that telltale snap of her neck followed by the sudden absence of screaming could be heard punctuating the mimicry of an incorrect buzzer noise she drew out. 

“So sorry, Caroline. No prize this time!” She released her hands to allow the woman’s skull to drop limp to the ground as she hopped up to stand, shifting her radio into her hand. “And a special thanks to all the Hope County viewers at home,” she enthused, pacing in circles around the dead body to run out unspent restless energy. “Be sure to tune in next week for another round of ‘Does John Seed Give a Minimal Fucking Shit About the Followers He Sends Out to Die?’ when the answer will still be hell fucking nope!”

She clicked the radio off with a final sharp inhale, clipping it back to her belt. She ran a hand through her hair as she tried to slow the still frantic heaves of her chest. 

She turned in about-face to find Adelaide and Sharky having emerged from their battle positions to stand in the open space of the field, staring on at her with wide eyes and hanging jaws. 

“What?” she asked, looking between the pair and the dead body at her feet with a shrug. “Did we start doin’ capture over kill and y’all forget to tell me, or something?”

Adelaide cleared her throat. “Killing is one thing, but sugar, did you have to drag it out for the poor gal like that?” she questioned, blinking away the look of shock with a shake of her head. “Edging is supposed to be for the bedroom, not the battlefield.”

“Making John Seed look like the lying, hypocritical, scumbag, piece of shit fraud that he is live on air is more satisfying than anything I’ve ever experienced in the bedroom,” Jestiny grunted in reply, nudging the corpse’s contorted arm with the toe of her boot. “She was gonna have to die anyways. At least her death proved a point.”

“Better than anything in the bedroom? Sounds like what we really need is to find you some more gifted lovers, then,” Adelaide mused, crossing her arms and looking down at the corpse with a pink lipstick frown. “And a, uh — more willing audience for the whole public humiliation kink deal. You know they have nightclubs for shit like that, right?”

sending no pressure tags out to @belorage @hctknives @fourlittleseedlings @galaxycunt @lordundying @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @nightbloodbix @miyabilicious @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @professorpineapple @strangefable @shallow-gravy @inafieldofdaisies @corvosattano @socially-awkward-skeleton @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @simplegenius042 + opt in/out for the wip day tag here!

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 39: Black Sky

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, angst, suicide, Malcolm Beck, injured character, character death, violence

* Word count: 6,110ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all.

Author's note: Here we are folks! Season 2’s finale! I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! Thank you for sticking around this long, and I hope you continue to follow along with the story as we head through onto season 3!

Gonna take a little break to get season 3 and season 4 worked on some more, so bear with me!

It was still early in the morning of the second day after his son was kidnapped and his best friend landed in the hospital. Kayce had barely slept. His father was meeting with the sheriff this morning. There was nothing more they could do until Donnie cleared the way.

Kayce chewed his bottom lip as he stared off into nothing. His son was kidnapped and god knows where and his best friend was laid up in the hospital unconscious potentially never to wake up, all because he let himself be convinced to leave the ranch. He knew he should have been there. He knew it might have made a difference, but the opportunity had passed him. Now they had to defend their home and right the wrongs that had been done to them.

He could hear Stella’s voice in his head. ‘We can’t be soft defending it.’ Being soft was exactly what they weren’t going to do. If he knew her like he thought he did, she’d be practically begging to blow them and everyone involved to pieces on main street for everyone to see so that the message was received.

Kayce’s stomach clenched again at the thought of losing both his son and Stella. Monica’s soft voice came from behind him. “Have you heard anything about Stella?” Even though she was fairly certain about the relationship between her almost ex-husband and his best friend now, Monica didn’t think Stella deserved to be in the current situation she was in. Especially since it was because she tried to save their son.

Kayce wiped his hand along his clenched jaw. He hadn’t heard anything from Ryan or Colby since yesterday. The last they had told Kayce, the doctors said Stella had covered her face just barely good enough. She had some broken ribs, one hell of a concussion. There would be a gnarly scar along her face once it healed. He assumed she was still unconscious. Kayce was surprised the kick that caused the gash didn’t fracture her skull. She was lucky it wasn’t worse than that.

He absently shook his head. “Nothing new. Still unconscious I’m guessing.”

“Can we go see her?” Monica hoped Stella would wake up.

“We have to get Tate back. It — it wasn’t — supposed to be this way.”

“Your father is gonna take a while talking to the sheriff. Let’s go see her. If she’s in this predicament because she tried to protect our son, it’s the least we can do.” Monica turned to look at Kayce. “Ryan and Colby shouldn’t be alone.”

Ryan’s leg bounced continuously and he chewed on the side of his thumb. He numbly stared at his sister lying in the hospital bed. He was terrified that she wouldn’t wake up. The doctors and nurses had tried to convince him that her body was trying to heal itself. That she will wake up when she’s ready.

Aside from the bruised and swollen face, she looked peaceful. Ryan couldn’t understand any of this. He could, but the extremes threw him down into a spiral. He prayed to whatever god would listen. His mind was taken over and he was reminded of when their dad was in the hospital. He felt as helpless now as he had then. There was nothing he could do. ‘Except make sure those motherfuckers pay.’

A light knock behind him brought his and Colby’s attention to the door. It was Kayce and Monica. He breathed out loudly and his shoulders dropped. Ryan waved them into the room, standing.

Monica caught sight of Stella and gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to believe it was real. “Oh, Stella.” She whispered. “Ryan, I'm so sorry.” Monica pulled Ryan into a tight hug.

Ryan leaned into her grasp for a moment, and tried to keep himself from crying. He didn’t know what to say. At this point, he didn’t think there was anything he could say.

Kayce stopped moving the second he could see Stella lying there. His heart was in his throat and his palms went clammy. “This was a bad idea.” Colby stood and placed his hand on Kayce’s shoulder to keep him from running.

“It’s gonna be okay, man,” Colby gave Kayce’s shoulder a squeeze, “from what I can tell, it looks worse than what it actually is.”

Ryan let Monica go and said to Kayce. “Every single one of those sons of bitches are gonna pay, Kayce. For Stella and for Tate.”

Monica stepped up to Stella’s side. She prayed silently. She knew Stella could pull through. Monica knew that Stella was strong and hard-headed. Just like Kayce. However, this time around she needed some help. Kayce stood there speechless, trying to catch his breath. Monica prompted him softly, “You can come over here, you know. It won’t hurt her.”

Colby gently tapped Kayce’s arm to try and spur him into motion. A look passed between the three men. It was a glance of retribution promised, but sorrow, and understanding. Both of the most important people to the men were hanging in the balance, and there wasn’t much they could do for either of them. Kayce’s steps faltered. If he went over and touched her, it would make it real. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to handle that.

Monica was reminded of when she was in the hospital from the distressed look on Kayce’s face. She waved him over. She would at least give him some comfort, disregarding the split between them. He made it to the end of what felt like the longest walk in his life even though in reality it was only a few feet. Monica switched spots so Kayce could be closer to Stella. She placed her hand on his back, letting him know the support was there.

Kayce felt his eyes sting, and his breath got caught in his throat. He choked on his own air. He leaned down and kissed Stella’s forehead gently. He whispered to her, “we’re going to get everyone single one of the sons a bitches who did this to you. I promise you that, sugar. None of them will walk out alive.” A few tears dropped from his eyes, landing on Stella’s face. Kayce lifted his hand and gently wiped them away.

Ryan watched the scene in front of him and felt his heart crack even more. Before he could get too deep, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Need you back at the ranch. A text from Rip read.

“Kayce, they need us back. I’m going to check in with the doctor and then I’ll be right behind you.” Ryan directed. He looked to his best friend. “Colby, can you stay with her so I know she’s safe?”

“Of course, man.” Colby patted Ryan’s shoulder. “If anything changes I’ll let you know.”

Monica gave Stella one last look and prayer as all three of them rushed out of the room. Kayce couldn’t bring himself to look back.

“Ryan, you take Monica with you. There’s a stop I gotta make on the way.”

“Kayce!” Monica called out. He snapped his head in her direction. She waved him closer. “I will not face this world without our son. You make sure you kill them,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about that, Monica. If he doesn’t, I sure as shit will.” Ryan interjected.

••

Kayce pulled up to the M/T Beck Ranch to where Donnie’s deputies stood guard. He rolled the window down and the deputy closest to him stepped forward. He leaned out the window and asked, “how many in the house?”

The deputy shrugged. “Just him. As far as we know.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I need to see the warrant.” Kayce pulled the paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and held it up to the officer.

The deputy nodded. “Alright.” His boots crunched in the gravel as he turned on his heel and sat down in his patrol car. The other deputy followed his lead. The car started and they pulled away without any further question, leaving Kayce to do as he pleased.

He pulled into the drive, just far enough that he could remain undetected, but close enough that he didn’t have to run a mile to get to the house.

He ran up to the front doors crouched, and gently opened the first set. They squealed loudly in protest and he winced at the disruption of the silence. When no one came to look, he continued through the second set of doors.

He looked in the living room and didn’t see anyone. Panning around the room, he saw a hallway to the back right. Making his way through the mouth of the hallway, he looked through each of the rooms as he passed them by, finding no one.

He continued pushing toward the back of the house. He came to a set of stairs. He looked down then first, but running water caught his attention from upstairs. He raised his pistol to aim ahead of him and traveled up the stairs. He climbed slowly and grimaced when he reached the top as the floor creaked beneath his weight. He banked on the fact the running water would drown out his extraneous noise.

Moving further down the hallway, he could see a bathroom sink at the end. The water was indeed running, and the sound of paper rustling grabbed his ears. He strode up to the doorway and spotted Malcolm’s brother Teal sitting on the toilet. He lifted his pistol with surefire accuracy and popped off three rounds in Teal’s gut before he barely registered someone was there.

Teal slumped forward and groaned in agony, holding his hand to his stomach. Kayce kneeled down onto the balls of his feet, his face flat but pleased. Teal sputtered in fear seeing Kayce’s resolute face. “Where’s my son? Where is he?”

Teal tried to catch his breath. “I don’t know,” he growled out. Kayce shot him in the calf without blinking.

Teal screamed in pain. “Stop! Stop!”

“There’s a lot of stuff I can shoot before you die.”

“The — Montana Free Militia. They’re who we used. They got him.”

“Where do they camp?”

Teal huffed and puffed. “Base of the Crazies. The Crazy — the Crazy Mountains.”

Kayce’s face hardened. “You ever been up there?”

“Yeah. Up 284. Just before Diamond City. There’s a,” Teal started to cry, “there’s a little beat up house,” Kayce made peace silently with what he was about to do after he got everything he needed from Teal. “Behind a bunch of junkers.”

Teal leaned forward and moaned. “Oh fuck. I’m shot to shit.”

Kayce remembered Stella’s words about not being soft defending the ranch and the family that stood behind it. “Don’t you know about my family?” His face scrunched in disappointment. People really had thought they’d gotten soft. “You didn’t think we’d fight back?”

Teal was crying. “No. Nobody ever fights back.”

“Until now.” Kayce raised his pistol.

“No, please. Please.” Teal begged. “Not on the toilet. I don’t wanna die on a fuckin’ toilet.”

Kayce’s face softened briefly. “I promised the mother of my son, and my girlfriend’s brother, I’d kill you. All a man has is his word.” He squeezed the trigger and the kill shot knocked Teal back against the back of the toilet.

Kayce took a different gun, and angled himself as if Teal was shooting back. He rubbed Teal’s hand all over the grip, getting his blood on it, then placed it on the ground just beneath his hand.

He stood and went back the way he came in. He pulled out his cell and called his dad.

••

Ryan was sitting on the porch with Jamie and Beth. They’d wanted as much of an update as he could give them. “She’s got some broken ribs, a concussion, wicked slash across her eye, and she’s unconscious.”

Jamie sighed loudly. “Shit. I’m sorry Ryan.” Stella wouldn’t be in this mess if she hadn’t been trying to protect his family member. She shouldn’t have been there at all. He wished he would have heard something, if she’d called for them.

“She’ll wake up, Ryan. If there’s anything I know about her, it’s that she’s spiteful. She’s not gonna let some pussy of a man who comes to kidnap a child in the cover of nightfall take her out.” Jamie and Ryan stared at Beth for a moment. The softness from her shocked both of them.

John came out of the house on the phone and made his way down to the grass determined. “Okay, good.” John took a breath. “You’re okay though, right?” He visibly relaxed at whatever answer he’d been given. “Thank god. Come home.”

The trio scrambled off the porch to catch up with the leader. Beth asked gently, “what did he say?”

John reached into his vest and pulled out a letter. “You need to make an amendment to the trust, Beth.” He leaned closer to give her the letter. “Read this. Then do what it asks.” He grabbed her shoulder. “I know who loves me.” He glanced at Ryan. “I know who’s loyal,” and then back at his daughter. “I always have.” He walked back into the house to get ready for the fight that was about to take place. Not only for his grandson, but the revenge for one of his employees.

Beth opened the letter and skimmed over it quickly.

Jamie watched Beth closely. “What does it say?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.” She headed off to do what her father asked. She needed to go see Rip.

“I’m gonna go down to the bunkhouse to get ready. We’re moving on them tonight.” Ryan departed as well leaving Jamie standing there dumbfounded.

John stalked back out of his house toward Kayce and Jamie standing in the driveway. A large SUV pulled up the drive fast, and out came Mo, Chief Rainwater’s head of security. He shut the door and made his way around and said, “I was sent here to help.”

John went into the red shed next to the house and grabbed a bullet proof vest. He turned and gave Kayce directions. “Go get Rip when he’s done with Beth.” Before Kayce could object John said, “I can’t risk you, son.”

Kayce marched up the hill that led to the new cabin Rip had been gifted. Beth had walked by him, letting him know where to find the man in question. Rip was sitting on the steps to the house. “Whattaya know Kace?”

“Stella’s torn up. Still unconscious. Tate’s with a militia. In the Crazies.” He shook his head. “We don’t have any time.”

“How can I help?”

“It’s a big ask,” he adjusted his ball cap, “can’t attack a fortified position without knowing the strength of our enemy. In Afghanistan, we’d send an armored vehicle into ambushes. Draw fire to know how many we were fightin’.” Rip nodded and Kayce rubbed the side of his face. “We don’t have any armored vehicles. I’d do it myself, but,” he stopped himself. He hated that he was even asking something like this of Rip.

“I know. I’ll draw your fire.” Rip rose off the steps with a groan. He began his march back to the barn with Kayce trailing behind him.

••

Ryan, Kayce, Mo, and Handon pulled up in the cover of darkness to the little busted up shack Teal had told Kayce about. Rip and John pulled up behind them with a horse trailer. The three men got out of the truck and put eye black on their faces to make themselves harder to see. Rip and John jumped out and started to pull their horses out of the trailer.

Kayce put on his gloves and surveyed the surrounding area with Mo standing next to him. Handon made sure his sights were good. Ryan reined in his anger and held it for when he got the chance to take the motherfuckers who hurt his sister to meet their maker. Rip walked up with his horse.

Kayce asked Mo, “you want a rifle?”

“I’m best with my pistol.”

“Pistol won’t pierce armor.”

“I won’t be aiming at their chest.” Mo looked at Kayce. He fully turned to Kayce, taking in his camouflaged face. “Got anymore of that?” Kayce handed the eye black over to him.

Mo walked over to Rip and Dude. He looked at Rip and got his approval to bless the horse for the hell they were about to go through. He traced a circle around Dude’s right eye. “So he sees danger.” He drew some more sigils on his neck. “So he is sure-footed.” He made his way to the gelding’s shoulder. “So the bullets bounce off.” He finished by drawing some on the horse’s hind quarter. “So he moves fast.”

Rip tried to lighten the mood the only way he knew how, hearing Stella’s voice in his head making a joke. “You sure you don’t wanna draw on me some?”

Mo chuckled. “Won’t work on you.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Mo walked away and Rip took a second to say whatever kind of prayer he could muster up.

John and Rip mounted their horses and trotted over to the rest of the group. John fixed his collar. “You know, of all the days to ask this of you, I’m sorry it’s today.”

“I can’t think of a better day for it, sir.” They shared a look. Rip nodded.

“I’ll be coverin’ you on your right.”

“Yessir.”

John took off to swing around on Rip’s right side. Kayce waved everyone forward. “Let’s get in place.”

Handon stopped next to him. “You think they got night vision?”

“Yeah, and thermal. You can bet on it.”

Ryan, Handon, and Mo moved forward to take cover behind some rubble that laid in front of them. They needed to be able to see where the fire was coming from and how many shooters there were.

Rip leaned back and took in the sky one more time in the moment of peace before all hell broke loose. He thought of Beth. Of Stella. “I love you.” He spurred Dude into action. He was ready to cause a ruckus.

As soon as he galloped by a small building on his right, shots started flying through the air. All of the ground men rushed behind him.

Kayce yelled out, running forward, “Livestock Police! Drop your weapons!” They dropped several men and took cover in between reloading time.

Rip pulled Dude to a stop. John cantered up to his side and hollered. “Livestock Police! Drop your weapons!” John raised his rifle and took out another one of the militia members.

Rip climbed down off his gelding, taking deadly aim and took out another. John slid out of his saddle to join him. Handon placed one of the men in cuffs.

Kayce, Ryan, and Mo came to the actual house the militia were staying in and surrounded it. Handon and Ryan took the back. Mo and Kayce took the front.

Kayce opened the front door and ducked back quickly. A few shots rang out from behind the door and while the man was reloading, Kayce and Mo took their chance to charge inside.

Each of the four took to clearing the house. Checking every room they passed by for Kayce’s son. The foursome came to a back room and there were three people left. Ryan and Handon got two of the people in cuffs. One sat in almost a meditative position.

Kayce had his rifle aimed at the man on the ground. He checked the room off to his right and went back to the man on the ground. “Where’s my son?” The man just stared blankly at Kayce. “Do you know, where my son is?”

The man scoffed. “I sure do.” He placed a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger before anyone could stop him.

“No!” Kayce screamed. “Fuck!”

Back outside, John had just finished tying up one of the militia men that was still alive and he heard footsteps through the grass behind him. He grabbed his rifle and yelled, “hey! Stop!” He followed after the man running away.

The man that was running, turned and took a few poorly aimed shots at John, but John stopped him assertively with a round of his own. The man dropped to the ground. John stormed over to him, and he rose from the ground and took another shot at the patriarch. John squeezed the trigger again, hitting the man and making him fly back onto the ground.

He groaned in pain as John stepped closer to him. When John was almost on top of him, he realized it was Malcolm. Unbeknownst to John, the group he’d brought with him stood by the fence and watched as he stepped up to Malcolm.

“You deserve a lot worse than this.”

Malcolm rolled over to grab his gun, but John aimed his rifle and shot Malcolm’s arm. “Ah god! Fucking cocksucker!” He cried.

“There ya go. Get it all out you son of a bitch.” John retrieved Malcom’s weapon. “Now tell me where my grandson is, and I’ll getcha to a hospital.” He kicked Malcolm over. “You have my word.” Malcolm laid there crying. “Go on, scream. Scream till whatever makes you want to hurt a child, my daughter, my horse trainer to hurt me leaves you.” Malcolm rolled back over onto his back. “If there’s a heaven, and I sure hope so, this is your last chance to do something that just might get you in it.”

John sat down next the injured man and Malcolm spluttered. “You know, I think a lot about the ten-or-so years I’ve got left before there’s not much left for me to but sit around and reminisce. You on the other hand, have to cram a lifetime of reminiscing into the next thirty minutes or so. Or you could lay there, and not telling me where he is will be your last thought.”

Malcolm wheezed and John looked him over. He thought of his daughter and the atrocity of what Malcolm’s hired men put her through. “Not whoever you may have loved, or your brother’s ninth birthday. None of that shit. Your entire lifetime’s gonna be reduced to my grandson’s face. It’s up to you, Malcom.” The thought of Stella, beaten and bloodied, laid up in the hospital unconscious, for trying to protect his family. Doing the job he had asked her to do. ‘Until my dying breath, sir,’ whispered through his head and he shuddered. He prayed with everything in him that it hadn’t been her last breath.

Ryan and Kayce watched on as Malcolm twitched, trying to catch his breath. Ryan looked back at Kayce. “What’s he doin’?” Kayce shook his head and they both observed the moment before them.

John looked up at the sky while Malcolm sputtered some more. “That’s Jupiter up there, the bright one.” He shifted his focus back to the ailing man on the ground next to him. “Did you know that?”

Malcolm’s chest started to rattle. “Carter Meads. That’s his name. Whitefish, Montana.” He struggled to breathe as deeply as he could. “Whitefish, Montana.”

“I’ll call for a chopper. Get you to the hospital.”

“I ain’t gonna make it to a hospital.”

“Yeah well, I gave you my word.”

“I won’t hold you to it.”

“You want company or do you wanna be alone?”

“Alone.” Malcolm ground out. “I wi— wish we’d never met.”

“Yeah,” John laughed darkly, “I bet you do.” John made his way back to his men.

••

As the sun rose over the mountains in Whitefish, Montana, Sheriff Haskell’s truck and a squad car rounded the corner on the house where Carter Meads lived with their lights on. Kayce, Ryan, and Handon covered their backs down the hill from up top.

Donnie and his team loaded up on the porch, ready to ram their way in. They busted the door open and everyone filed in. They took out a few people in the front part of the house.

Going toward the back Kayce called out for his son. “Tate!” Ryan, Handon and himself made their way up the stairs.

Donnie had already made his way upstairs and opened a door in the back and immediately turned back to stop Kayce. “Kace! I need you to step back!” Ryan pushed forward. Handon held Kayce back as best he could. Donnie asked Kayce, “give my guys a minute. You don’t wanna see him like this.”

Kayce started to grapple against everyone in his way. Ryan was their last defense. Kayce busted through him yelling, “see him like what?!”

He broke through the wall of men and into the bathroom where his son was. Tate shrieked and he got up close to him, catching his focus and letting him know he was safe.

Donnie stepped up to the door and told Kayce, “we’ve got a trauma specialist on the way.”

Kayce hugged Tate and the boy finally calmed down long enough that Kayce was able to get him outside and into the truck.

The drive home was quiet. Ryan knew that everyone who had hurt his sister and kidnapped his friend’s boy was dead. A weight lifted off his shoulders knowing that everything had to look up from here. Now he just needed his little sister to wake up.

A small voice from Kayce lap startled everyone. “Aunt Stella tried to save me and they hurt her. Is she okay?”

Ryan’s heart shattered completely. They all knew Stella’s beating had to have been because she tried to stop the men. He kept the tears at bay long enough to look at Tate, who was hiding in between his father’s arms. “Yeah, buddy. She’s okay. And she’s gonna be real glad we got you back.”

Ryan, Rip, and Lloyd walked through the hospital entrance. Everything at the ranch was taken care of for the time being. Tate was home safe. Traumatized, but safe. Stella was safe, but Ryan didn’t know when she would wake up. If she would wake up. Ryan was thankful the other two came with him. He was grateful Colby was still here. That helped him shake the heebie jeebies off.

The men came up on Stella’s room. They braved themselves and entered. There were whispered curses from Rip and Lloyd. A nurse just finished taking her vitals. She smiled at the men, trying to bring some cheer to them.

“Her vitals are super strong, gentlemen. She wants to be here. She’s just gotta wake up.” She patted Ryan on the shoulder making her way out the door.

Ryan could do nothing but stand there and watch the love everyone had for his sister. Colby came to stand with him. It was at that moment that he knew they were with the right people. He leaned a shoulder on the wall to let Rip and Lloyd have a moment with her.

Lloyd walked up to her bedside. “Little bit,” Lloyd mourned. He reached out to grab her hand. “Those evil people are taken care of. Your brother and Kayce led the charge. You can come back to us now. Please.” He pleaded.

Rip joined Lloyd at Stella’s other side. He placed his hand on the top of her head after he removed his sunglasses. “Shit, Stella-belle,” he sniffled, “this isn’t the kind of trouble you were supposed to be gettin’ yourself into.”

Ryan moved into the room and took a seat next to his sister’s bed. He glanced up at Colby, “so what have they said while we were gone?”

Colby crossed his arms. “Basically what the nurse said before she left. Her vitals have been strong this entire time. Her bloodwork came back great. Her MRI came back with some swelling in her brain, but with the head trauma that’s to be expected.” Rip and Lloyd grumbled. “They have her on meds to help keep the swelling down. Her X-rays showed a few broken ribs, but thankfully nothing was punctured. She’s just gotta wake up.”

It was somber in the room for a few minutes. Lloyd sat next to Ryan. Rip still stood guard at her bedside holding onto her hand. Colby left to get them coffee and give them time to stand vigil.

Stella’s breathing picked up. Her legs started to rutch around like she was uncomfortable. Her hand squeezed Rip’s. Rip watched her intently. A scratchy mumble of, “it’s still better than meth,” uttered from Stella who kept her eyes closed.

Ryan jumped out of his skin and the chair. Lloyd quickly made it to the door, calling for a nurse or a doctor. Anybody.

Once Kayce was sure Tate was sound asleep he quietly told Monica he was going to go check on Stella. She wanted to object, but understood. They hadn’t heard anything from the three who went to visit her in a while.

“Just make sure to come back in case he wakes up,” she spoke softly to Kayce. He agreed and made his way downstairs.

John called out from his office. “Where are you going?”

“To check on Stella.”

“Kayce?” His father called his attention.

Kayce poked his head in through the door finally. His dad looked focused out the window, but worried nonetheless. Kayce supposed there were a lot of things he had to be worried about right now. “Yeah, dad?”

“I’m coming with you.”

John left no room for discussion. He stood, striding past his son. Kayce fell in line behind his dad. He wasn’t sure how to take this kind of response from him about Stella. In the past John would have asked for a report back on her. This time however, he was coming along. John knew it his fault she was in this mess to begin with.

Coming out of Stella’s room was a group of nurses. Kayce thought the worst. He stood outside the door, scared to enter. His heart dropped into the floor. Terrified of what he would find. John waited with him, uncharacteristically patient. The doctor walked out, almost running into them.

“Oh sorry! You picked the perfect time to visit, gentlemen. Go on in.” The doctor whisked off down the hallway.

Going in, Kayce could see Rip smiling. His shoulders relaxed seeing his gruff lead wrangler in a good mood. The two made eye contact and Rip motioned at Kayce and John to the others. When they rounded the corner, Kayce’s eyes casted to Stella first. There she was, sitting propped upright. Not as swollen, but still bruised. The gouge over her right eye most likely held together with liquid stitches was red and angry.

Her brown eyes peeked at him. She smiled shyly. Almost embarrassed to be seen so vulnerable. “Hey, cowboy. John.”

Kayce rushed past everyone to get to her. He leaned down and softly hugged her neck. Placing a hand on the back of her head, he kissed her on the top of her head and breathed deeply. “Jesus. Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me?”

“I thought I saw a few more greys on you.”

John, Rip, Lloyd, Colby and Ryan decided now was the time to give them a minute and backed out of the room to the hallway.

“I brought you somethin’.” Kayce said. He reached into his jacket pocket.

“Oh?” Stella questioned, trying her damndest to not raise her eyebrows.

Kayce pulled his hand out, surprising her with her spare pair of glasses.

“Oh my god you’re an angel! I’m tired of squintin’ at shit.” Slowly she placed her hand out to recieve them. Once she had them on and could see him clearly, she cleared her throat. The scratchiness hadn’t left yet. “You found Tate, right?”

“Yes we did. Your brother and I made sure we made a point to every single one of them.”

Emotion bubbled up in her throat. “Kayce, I tried to stop them. I really did.”

“We know Stella. Tate told us. I couldn’t be more thankful for you. What you tried to do for him.”

“I’m so glad you found him. I didn’t know he would see them attack me and come back. He must get that from someone else I know.” She paused to look at Kayce. “When he came back for me instead of running to the house like I told him… I lost all sense of rational thought.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He looked her over, deciding to take the seat next to her. He worried about calling her that. He didn’t want her to panic all over again like a few weeks ago. “I just wish it didn’t happen this way.”

Stella gingerly touched her fingertips to the cut that started above her right eyebrow and stopped on the apple of her cheek. “Yeah me too. It probably looks gnarly, doesn’t it?”

When she didn’t panic when he called her baby, he continued. “It’s beautiful. Just like you.” They didn’t know the men had come back into the room.

Her mouth dropped open. “These meds they’ve got me on must be hittin’ me real good.” She chuckled. She went quiet. Kayce thought she might have fallen asleep, but there was a look of contemplation on her face.

“What is it Stella? Is something wrong? Do I need to get the doctor?” Kayce began standing.

“No, no, no.” Stella reached out for his hand. “I was just thinking, and it’s a horrible time to ask, but if I don’t now, I never will.” Kayce waited for her to continue and gently rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand that didn’t have the IV port. “Did you really mean what you said the other night in the lodge?”

“There were a lot of things said that night, sugar.”

Stella had hoped she wouldn’t have to say it out loud. She sighed. “You said you loved me.” She adjusted her glasses, pulling her bottom lip in briefly. “Did you really mean that?”

Around the corner, the five men were about to shit a brick house. They all looked between each other with their mouths hanging wide open. This was not where they thought this conversation was headed. It wasn’t what they thought they were going to be walking in on.

Kayce thought about it. She hadn’t mentioned anything since, so he thought it was something she didn’t want to talk about just yet.

“By god Stella, yes. I meant every damn word.” He watched her as she mulled everything over. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just been a lot.” She played with a corner of her blanket. “So when do you gotta go back? I don’t wanna keep you from your family.”

“Tate finally caught sleep. He should be solid for a little while. I do have to go back eventually.”

“But I’ll be here with you all night, Stellee.” Ryan announced as the men walked back around the corner.

“When they let me outta here, where am I going?”

“I’d like it if you would stay at the ranch for a little while longer.” Rip mentioned. “Just in case something isn’t feeling right, someone is around.”

“Can I stay somewhere other than the bunkhouse?” She inquired. She looked to her brother. “Please? For my own sanity?”

John finally spoke up. “Yes, you may. You have the pick of wherever you want. You say the word and I’ll get you a spot.”

Stella and Kayce shared a look of bewilderment. She smiled gently at John. “Thank you, sir.” She tried to straighten her face out to avoid stretching her skin. She grimaced with the movement of her skin. “I mean, John.” The bruises and the gash across her face were really killing her vibe for smiling. Even if it was for the simple fact that she was alive. She let out a sharp yawn.

John glanced at Stella and Kayce, then the rest of the men. “I think that’s our sign to head out for the night. She needs to rest. Ryan, you keep us updated, alright?” Ryan confirmed with a nod.

“Can I have a minute with Stella before we leave?” Kayce asked.

“Of course, Kace.” Ryan ushered everyone out of the room.

Kayce stood, still holding Stella’s hand. She watched him contentedly while he contemplated. He rubbed her knuckles. “Can I kiss you? I’ve never really asked.”

A small smile splayed across her face as far as she could without pain. It was probably the wrong time for this joke, but she couldn’t resist herself. “I dunno. Can you?”

“Oh you ass.” Kayce started to pull his hand away.

Stella gripped his fingers with a giggle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Yes, please kiss me.”

He leaned down gently to her. He was almost afraid to hurt her.

“I won’t break, Kayce.” She whispered. Their eyes met finally in a collision of brown on brown.

He leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to hers. Time seemed to stand still. He had been so worried she was gone, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything else other than getting his son back and getting payback to the sons of bitches who did this to her. He pressed slightly harder, trying to melt into her. He hadn’t realized he wanted this for a long time until the thought of her being gone crossed his mind. Even long before Monica came along. Her partially dry lips, no thanks to the dry hospital air, opened with a gasp.

He backed up slightly thinking he’d hurt her. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, come back here. Don’t apologize. It’s just hard to breathe with a stuffy swollen nose and broken ribs.” She greedily reached for him. When his lips touched hers again, her eyes closed and she leaned into him. He trailed after her, but pulled away and straightened his back.

“I should go. When we get you to the ranch, you wanna stay in the lodge with me?”

“I think I’d like that.” She would appreciate the solitude, but would still be close to her brother, her horse.

“Wait, Abigail. Is she okay? Did you guys find her?”

“Funny enough she ran up to us first panicking, before we found you. We thought it was because everyone was running around.” He gazed down at her with a sad smile. If only he would have known before he found Stella. The memory tried to come back, but he blocked it. “So yes, she’s okay. A little spooky, but she’s okay. I’ve had Jimmy lookin’ after her. When he wasn’t, Rip was.”

Stella sat back with a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god.” She didn’t know what she’d do if something ever happened to that horse. “You go. Take care of your boy. I’ll be safe with Ryan here.”

Kayce squeezed her hand and went out to the hall to trade places with Ryan. The two shared a look, knowing that this would be a conversation had at a later date.

The three extra men that visited began to walk back out to their vehicles. John stopped, causing Kayce to pause. John faced Ryan. “Ryan!” The man in question stopped his journey through the door. “This is on me.”

Ryan’s face contorted into confusion. “What do you mean, sir?”

John looked down. “I mean your sister almost gave her life to protect my family. She earned that brand fully. This trip is on me.” John swiveled on his heel, and caught up with the other men, leaving Ryan standing there about to cry if he wasn’t careful.

[thepiratefish]

I wrote a small thing for Ichabod and Drey, this was mainly inspired by a few other moots on Discord. So far, they have been called Cattlepunk, and I am obsessed with them, Enjoy <3

Drey fell to the floor clutching his injured shoulder, a scar or two was bleeding from the injury and it hurt like hell. He was also certain it was broken or atleast dislocated.

Jayson stood a few feet away from him and leaned down to pick up something that was glinting from the little light in the area. It was a set of rings one silver and the other bronze, the silver one had a symbol of a horse in it while the other had the Ferins symbol.

"You were married?" Jayson asked, slightly shocked.

"Oh, you didn't know? Well, yeah. Are you pissed because you didn't get an invitation?" Drey turned himself until he was sitting on his knees, droplets of blood dripping between his fingers. Jayson stared down at the pair of rings his face scrunched up in a scowl.

"I didn't know about this. But something iam certain I know is that they'll be better off without a pirate like you" Jayson snarled turning around and walking into the faint light as it slowly dimmed into darkness as Drey pushed himself onto his back.

His body hurt, and he wanted to do nothing but find his way back home and fall into the softness of his mattress to find his way back to Ichabod.

His mind thought back to every seconde and moment he spent with him. The time he tried to train his horse for the first time and got kicked in the back, his first sharpshooter on horseback championship the day of there Marrige. That day, he swore to himself he'd never forget. Drey remembered how it went. the sky was cloudy, and the sun had started to set, giving a soft orange glow over the ranch. Him and Ichabod had both found similar suits except Ichabod had altered his to have more of a cowboy aesthetic meanwhile one of the ranchhands helped Drey give his suit much longer coat tails and the Black Rose pirates skull on the back.

It was a beautiful day, a really beautiful day. The memory spun in Dreys head, and he swore that he'd get out of this damn prison and return to horsesea, to Ichabod.

He thought of that one goal for hours then days, until it eventually became months. Once in awhile Jayson would silently walk in and kick at Drey and sometimes insult him, but that was rarely something that happened, he usually just left Drey alone with his rotting thoughts.

I have to go back, I have to go back,

I have to go back, I have to go back,

Back where? Drey thought. He wasn't sure how long he's been in the Block, a month by now, he thought. His arms were slowly becoming bruised, and he felt like something was missing, yet he couldn't figure out what.

The only thing he could remember was looking at the sky, the orange and pink colored sky.

"Where did I have to go back to again?"

[greybackpack]

So, I was pondering about scars. Thinking? I don’t know. Anyways, scars in relation to the trio.

For Elisabet, right? She lived on a ranch, and if there’s anything I know about living with farm animals, it’s that there’s gonna be some bloodshed. Both yours and theirs. What kind of scars did she get in her lifetime? What lessons did she learn from them? I have a faint scar from one of my mothers chickens, and like, I know now not to bother a hen when she’s stressed unless I can help. (Also my mom has a penchant for picking asshole roosters, but that’s irrelevant.) does she have a burn scar from that pine tree she set on fire? What marks are on her hands from working with robotics? Did Elisabet learn how to weld? What scars did she get during the apocalypse? Did she come face to face with the Plague? What scrapes and bumps and bruises does she have and what did she learn? I know damn well there’s calluses on her feet, because you can’t operate a ranch without breaking in some solid footwear. Did she listen to the lessons about breaking in hiking boots or did she hike in them and bleed? Does she have calluses on her hand, even though I’m sure the digitalization of everything must have made that less pronounced?

Aloy, for sure, has tough feet. The shoes she didn’t wear as a kid is like the practice of acclimatizing children to be able to walk bare feet in order to get thicker soles and stronger skin. (Speaking of which, how in the hell did she not get tetanus or something?) She’s got scars from machines, for sure, like most everyone else does. Which ones taught her to dodge better, to balance quicker, to parry a strike at the right moment? She’s got calluses on her fingertips from bows. Little slices on her hands that indicate blade work? Do her shoulders have scars on them from those slamming attacks watchers do? Torn up skin fro where scrappers caught her with their serrated blades? Broken and healed bones from stampeding striders?Pockmarks and holes from where bullets and lasers hit her? Her palms are rough, because she climbs rocks and trees and probably buildings. Has she ever twisted her ankles? That scar from Helis, on her neck, that taught her the reality of death and loss. What other scars would Aloy carry? What lessons did they teach her?

And Beta, who was forced to live both socially and physically isolated from people. We know she didn’t meet the Zeniths until Earth, basically. Did Eric torment her when they did (this is based on the whole psycho “watch the fear in other people’s eyes as he killed them” thing the dude’s got going on). She who also ripped out that focus/tracker out of the side of her head unhesitatingly the moment she could after realizing what the Zeniths were there to do. There’s a giant scar left on her skull now Did that teach her a little bit about how brave she could be? Did that show her that the spark of bravery and defiance and good that lives in Aloy also lives in her? Is it a reminder that she no longer lives under anyone’s will? That shes brave and lovely and even if there’s a hundred zeniths, Beta’s worth as much if not more than all of them combined? Does it remind her that she’s got people who cherish her for who she is and that she doesn’t have to beg for a scrap of attention and love? Did she get splinters after setting foot on a world not made out of metal and lights and water?

I just think scars are incredibly profound to who someone is as a person and the experiences they’ve gone through. Physically, anyways. Emotional scars can be linked to them, but they’re usually harder to spot right away.

They’re so brave?? They survived so much and yeah they’re not talking about it but they’re learning to live with it and learning to both grieve the experience and then learning the lesson and moving on instead of just avoiding it like Aloy did for the year and a half ish from Rost’s death? That’s incredibly inspiring.

I think that’s why I love this game so much, despite the questionable usage of tribes and savages and a bunch of other things (don’t even get me started on that). The story and narrative is so rich and compelling in how they show Aloy’s physical and emotional journey and the differences in how people process their trauma and experiences and how that’s all okay, because that’s just how things are. It’s just. I love it. I love them.

[ivyprism]

Twist the Knife (Horrortale Skelesona: Short Story)

Warning: Violence, death, sadness, angst, etc.

Hydra could hear loud ringing. She couldn't concentrate on anything. She could still hear the shouts, but she could see the remains of the massive attack that had erupted. She was able to push herself to concentrate. The blood was visible on her hands. When she saw empress Undyne and Clove still arguing, her face turned pale. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Wait- Please- sto-" Hydra started speaking. She compelled herself to stand.

"STAY OUT OF THIS!" She couldn't tell who said it or who launched the attack, but the next thing she knew, she was slamming into a tree and collapsing. In her eye, she felt a sharp and excruciating pain. She noticed more blood and heard two gasps. She was in agonizing pain in both her ribs and her eye. She couldn't look right through it. She stroked her chest, then her eye… Blood, so much blood, it made her ill. She felt her vision blur as she heard the sound of snow crunching.

"Hydra-" The sound of ringing and shouting cut the voice off. She felt her hands grasp her. Cinnamon, she could concentrate on that familiar face… She was exhausted when he began to mumble her reassurances, which she could hardly understand. She could see him panicked as she lost consciousness once more. "ENOUGH!" He yelled at the two before picking her up and racing home.

"Pap…" Hydra tried to murmur, but Cinnamon immediately silenced her.

"Shh, Hydra, just… stay awake." Cinnamon murmured. Hydra's heart crushed as she heard how sweet his voice sounded. She couldn't recall the last time Clove or Empress Undyne spoke to her in such a gentle manner. She felt her consciousness fade in and out as he began to take care of her. She could hear him shouting at Clove and Undyne occasionally, but never could quite make out the words.

Eventually, she passed out and couldn't hear anything else.

------

As she gently opened her eyes, Hydra felt anguish. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She let out a small gasp as she noticed Cinnamon. To put it mildly, he looked dreadful. He had stains on his cheekbones and red circles under his eyes. Clove and Undyne were still fighting downstairs, she could hear. As she couldn't see anything through her eye, she felt a chilly sting of panic. Cinnamon was startled when she gasped.

"Woah- woah, Hydra, Hydra-" Cinnamon rested his hands on her shoulders as she shifted and moved. "Don't… Please do not move. You're going to reopen your wounds…" Cinnamon murmurs as he glances at her with trembling eyes.

"Pap- What- what is happening??? Why can't I see??" Hydra's voice was laced with panic and he gently eased her back down to bed. He checked her temperature before sighing in relief.

"Um... Sorry, hold on... May I- Can I hug you for a second...?" Cinnamon inquired, and Hydra blinked at him in perplexity before nodding. He quickly threw his arms around her and pressed his face into her skull. "I'm relieved you're okay… "I thought I had lost yet another friend…" Cinnamon murmured, and Hydra returned his hug. He pulled away and looked her over again. "Hydra, don't freak out, but you got caught in the crossfire of one of Clove and Undyne's fights and you got hit really bad in the eye and your ribs..."

"What-!" Cinnamon kept Hydra from sitting up. She gave him a sidelong glance. Hydra could still hear them arguing. Her heart was broken. She felt tears well up in her eyes. This was not intended to happen. They were supposed to be happy, healthy, and enjoying their lives on the surface, not… Not this! Clove and her were supposed to be in love, not broken up… It hurt. It hurt, she wished she would stop hurting. She felt Cinnamon hug her again.

Why won't it stop hurting...? Maybe... Being alone is better than being in pain...

-----------

@kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles @miscneilleaneous @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @hearty-dose-of-ranch @underfell-crystal @rainbowut

[senorincognito69]

Femme (sometimes) equals Mare: Rage gone (Woman into horse TF caption)

Stormy.

---Text:

A cloudy sky.

The backdoor into the kitchen was opened with a crash and closed with a kick.

Pipes were pulled off the wall, leaking uncontrollably, the fridge tipped over the floor, the table smashed to pieces, the broken shards of fancy tableware gifted for a wedding all over the place…

The kitchen had been left in absolute ruins, far beyond repair.

Or so the woman hoped.

She walked barefoot to the edge of the backyard porch, lighting a cigarette that she took a long, long, long drag from. Soaked wet, her heart still beating with anger, her stiff nipples glued against the damp shirt.

Not even the nicotine could calm her rage.

Leaning on the railing she stared at the meadow and the horses with her vision still blurry with anger. A torturous headache banging inside her skull, she hated this place, this stupid horse ranch, her husbands idea of a happily ever after. She hated him, she hated the horse, she hated the ring around her finger. She caught them, her husband… and her sister, her own younger sister, having sex… their voices still rang in her ears.

“Eleanor, Eleanor, please, come back, we can explain!”

They begged her as she ran away.

Eleanor spit and ground her teeth.

“Piss off!” she grunted, taking another drag from her cigarette.

Those damn horses, running down there in the meadow, beasts free of any burden… What about her? What about what she wanted? Her needs and desires? Stupid horses. Why had she wasted her life being a model housewife? Why couldn’t she find some young hunk to fuck her worries to oblivion? Some potent… strong… stallion…

She stopped.

The idea sparked her imagination, she couldn’t restrain it.

Eleanor straightened up stiffly, the cigarette burning between her wet fingers, her face frozen in a stoic expression, her heart beating harder… the idea calming the headache…

Her vagina tightened.

…

Her breath accelerated, her muscles tensed, her blood boiled.

Realization shatters her as what’s about to happen becomes as clear as it is unavoidable. She moves the cigarette to her trembling lips and drags, consuming it completely.

“You are screwed, Eleanor…” she mumbled letting the smoke out.

Tossing the stub away she leaves the porch, she tosses her wedding ring too, not caring about where it fell. Her toes fondled the grass in the meadow, she rips her shirt open, liberating her chest, her breasts already migrating towards her crotch.

Next she got rid of her earrings, another gift from her so-called husband, as she took them off to toss her, fingers touched and felt her ears stretching and becoming equine. Fur started to sprout, coating her skin here and there, pure black fur. Eleanor had to stop for a moment to pull down her pants & panties and as she did her arse expanded, a tail formed and her leathery pussy vibrated when it was licked by the cold breeze.

Completely nude she began to run, stumbling a couple of times, but not stopping, not even as her body expands, as her neck stretches and feet and hands clustered into hardy hooves. Stupid horses. She wants it, she wants it now, forever, she wants that power, she wants to…

“FUCK! Fuck me! FUCK MEEEH! FUCK MEEEEIGH FEEEEEEEECK NEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIGH! NEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIGH”

Eleanor’s voice was lost in the prairie as its echo became neighing. The horse-woman didn’t stop, not even after falling down onto all fours and her running turning into trotting.

Leaving everything behind, not wanting to be found ever again she crossed the grasslands at full speed. Growing larger, majestic, fur takes over everything, skull cracks and elongates, more neighs, no, whinnies. Teats between her legs, her cunt wet below her long flowing tail, a dark mane covers her neck.

Her trot didn’t slow down until she reached the herd. There she finally stopped, shaking her body, snorting and huffing, scratching the dirt with her hoof, attracting the attention of the other horses.

She's a horse too, a mare.

A stallion approaches, she doesn't flinch.

Finally free, finally able to be satisfied.

The sky is clear.

This caption was part of a batch of captions from the Shoebox tier of subscribers. I do not own the rights to the original images, if the owners requests their removal I will remove them. If you would like to help Senor Kinky Studio produce more TFerotica consider supporting us in one of these webpages: subscribestar.adult/SenorIncog… senorincognito69.fanbox.cc/ senorincognito69.gumroad.com/ And don’t forget to fave, watch and comment! 8D

[hazbinbossbrainrot]

Mildred “Millie” Kn💍lastname:

VOs:

Erica Lindbeck (pilot)

Vivian Nixon (main series)

Fave quote:

"Oh, no! Freelance isn’t free! It's a-- Never mind. We’re just visiting for the festival. The prince is our boss’ BOOOOOOYYYYYYFRIIIEEENDDD."

―Millie telling Striker why her and her co-workers are at the ranch

Basics:

Sexuality: Bisexual (not confirmed canonically)

Ring:

Wrath (from both parents)

Species: Demon (Imp)

Age: 27 (Hell years)

Sex: Female

Occupation:

Assassin at I.M.P

Likes:

• Going to Loo Loo Land

* Getting “The Thing” plushes

• The Moonlight Harvest Festival

• The I.M.P commercial jingle

• Spending time with Moxxie

• People praising her

• Going to Ozzie’s

• Murder

AU:

Shipping Stolas & Blitz (🤣)

Dislikes:

• People discrediting her job as a freelancer

• Being banned from the Pain Games

• Anyone hurting/insulting Moxxie

• Moxxie not believing in her

• The Cherub’s hypocrisy

• Chazwick Thurman

Other:

• Blitz being an asshole to Moxxie

_____________________________________

Romantic interests:

• Moxxie Knolastname (husband)

• Chazwick Thurman (ex-boyfriend)

_____________________________________

Family:

Mother: Lin

Father: Joe

(younger) Sister: Sally May

* three other unnamed brothers

Husband: Moxxie Knolastname

Father-in-law: Crimson Knolastname

Mother-in-law: Mrs Knolastname

Unnamed sibling-in-law

Other:

(surrogate) Daughter/niece: T.J. of the Ars Goetia (OC)

(biological) Daughter: Molly Knolastname

Baby daddies: Blitz & Stolas (clinically)

“(step) Niece”: Octavia of the Ars Goetia

“(substitute) Niece”: Loona Buckzo

_____________________________________

Friends:

Blitz (boss)

_____________________________________

Nicknames:

• Millerd Realboy (human persona)

• Pretty Little Thang (by Crimson)

• Angel of Death (by Moxxie)

• Mills (by Blitz & Moxxie)

• Pumpkin Spice (by Joe)

• Little Lady (by Striker)

• Old Lady (by Loona)

* Millie Billie (by Blitz)

* M

• Millie (standard)

_____________________________________

Enemies:

• Crimson Knolastname

* Crimson’s unnamed mafia gang

~ Chazwhick Thurman

• Verosika Mayday

* Verosika’s posse

• Employees of C.H.E.R.U.B.S

• Employees of D.H.O.R.K.S

• Striker

Others:

• Counsellor Jimmy (accidental victim)

• Crimson’s Mafia (victims)

• Catfist Monster (victim)

• Loo Loo (acquaintance)

• Loona (Coworker)

• Ars Goetia family (acquaintance):

* Stolas

* Octavia

• Staff of Ozzie’s (acquaintance):

* Asmodeus

* Fizzarolli

_________________________

Abilities:

Natural:

• Fire resistance - In "Murder Family", Millie was unharmed by the fire while on Earth, although the full extent of this ability is not clear.

Skillset:

• Closed combat - Millie is highly adept at close combat in terms of raw strength, she is able to dismember armed human and eldritch opponents in hand-to-hand combat, being strong enough to force the jaws of a building sized monster open, or crush a human's skull with her thighs.

* Her actual close combat tactical skills are questionable, as she has been defeated by skilled or advantageously positioned opponents in melee combat on several occasions.

• Weapon proficiency - Millie is skilled at using a melee weapons, such as a giant battleaxe, to eliminate targets. Like her husband, she's also adept at using firearms, and she can also create makeshift weapons on the fly, such as when she made a Molotov cocktail to throw at the Catfish Monster.

• Driving - Millie has a driver skills that is essential for her work, and can even drive aggressively when she crashed into the wedding between Moxxie and Chazwick Thurman.

• Volleyball-playing - Millie has proficient skills in volleyball, allowing her to make a perfect strike despite fracturing a camper's skull.

• Banjo-playing - Millie has some experience with playing the banjo considering that she was raised in Wrath Ring in a farmlands.

• Swimming proficiency - She is seen to be adept at swimming as shown in "Spring Broken".

• Guitar-playing - In addition to her banjo music, she can play guitar music.

• Drum-playing - Talented in music, Millie can play the set of drums like a professional.

• Singing - Like Moxxie, she has a habit of singing whenever she gets very excited.

• Juggling - Millie was able to juggle five axes during her performance in Camp Ivannakummore.

____________________________________

Appearance & personality:

Millie is a short imp with a long, devilish tail. She has red skin with white markings on her forearms and tail; eyes with yellow sclerae and black pupils; darker red eyeshadow; black lipstick on her lips; and long black eyelashes that extend beyond the sides of her hair.

Similar to her mother, she has two black horns with three thin white stripes and dark gray hair worn in a messy bob style with bangs that cover half of her right horn. She has a beauty mark on her left cheek and a gap between her front teeth. She also has a black tattoo in the shape of a heart on her left shoulder.

Millie's head is noticeably more human-like (although still without a nose) than a lot of other imps, having rounder proportions and front teeth that usually appear flatter than the sharp conical teeth most demons have.

Her usual attire consists of a black cold-shoulder crop top with gold buttons where the straps at the top meet the torso piece, black fingerless gloves, a black choker around her neck, torn black pants, and black toeless footwear that exposes her hoof-like toes.

During the episode "Loo Loo Land", she wears sunglasses and a black suit and tie with a white shirt while guarding Stolas, just like Blitz and Moxxie.

In the pilot, her skin was paler, and her hair had a white patch near her left horn, although it was removed in the proper series.

How to describe Millie’s personality?

• Self issues

* In Unhappy Campers (2x05) Millie confesses to Moxxie how she sometimes does not feel appreciated enough and how she wants to be seen more then just a "killing machine", stating how it feels nice to hear the cheers and applause of people every once in a while than the occasional screams of agony from her victims.

• Bloodthirsty >>> especially when Moxxie is harmed

• Aggressive (in and out of the bedroom 😆)

• Dedicated & defensive of her work

• Unsympathetic towards humans

• Childlike

• Lively

[hirvenxsoturi]

Taking in a breath as the horse trotted forward to his side of the truck, the Australian never let his eyes leave Bev’s, even as he pressed the button to bring down the window. Holding both hands in the air, Oron nodded towards the other.

“I am unarmed.” He moved his head side to side, no ear piece to be seen. “Ironclad is not with me.” Moving his hand down to the keys in the ignition, Oron turned off the truck. “I am not a danger to you, your household or your family. I just need to talk to you.”

Things haven’t been this tense since he first arrived here and the issues he was having with Silas. He kind of forgot just how nervous situations like this actually made him feel, but he couldn’t express those nerves.

“If you want me to leave I will respect your wishes but an anonymous source told me that you might be able to help a mutual friend of ours.”

As the window rolled down, the mare's muscles seemed to tense with the rider's in her saddle, her ears pinning back until they were flat against her skull and her mouth chewing on the bit. A good ranch horse knew how to read situations, a better one knew to be ready to act the moment the cap of the volcano was broken through. Bev had joked that the mustang cross would have made a good warhorse once upon a time, and it would appear the way she was eyeballing Oron's hands that it wasn't an entirely unfounded statement.

Even with the statement regarding his weapons, Bev's hand against the shotgun never moved away or wavered. It would stay holstered, for now, but it was both a warning and a promise. He was ready and willing to use it, and he damn well would if he felt the need to. The statement of danger, however, drew an incredulous snort from him, "I prefer action to talk. Talk is cheap and lying is easy. You've made your status of how much of a danger you are to my family clear at this point through your actions."

There's a flicker of golden orange that seems to briefly travel up his tattooed arm, and a flash of a similar glow in his similarly hued eyes as the hostility bubbles up within him and travels up and down his spine. The desire to shoot first and ask questions later, however, is stamped out quickly and the flickers disappear as swiftly as they came.

"I have serious doubts I have any mutual friends with you. So you have thirty seconds to explain before I forcibly remove you from my property lines." End capping his statement was a snort from Eowyn, a trimmed but still partially feathered hoof stamping the ground.

@musesbykai

[critical-quoter]

November Books

(Woohoo! The year is coming to a close and I blew my reading goal out of the water months ago.)

House of Sky and Breath - Sarah J. Maas ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Devil You Know - Veronica Eden ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Heir of Broken Fate - Mads Rafferty ⭐⭐⭐ The Devil's Kiss - Gemma James ⭐⭐ Of Mist and Shadow - Jenna Wolfhart ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Of Ash and Embers - Jenna Wolfhart ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Of Night and Chaos - Jenna Wolfhart ⭐⭐⭐ A Veil of Truth and Trickery - Analeigh Ford ⭐⭐⭐ A Veil of Stardust and Savagery - Analeigh Ford ⭐⭐ Don't Kiss the Bride - Carian Cole ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Fall of Us - Kennedy Fox ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Lose Me - M. C. Frank ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Save Me - M. C. Frank ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ A Little Wilder - Serena Bell ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Double D Ranch - Rochelle Bradley ⭐⭐⭐ Iron Flame - Rebecca Yarros ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Made and Marred - Samantha Goode ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Irish - Brittanee Nicole ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Cruel Prince - Holly Black ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Wicked King - Holly Black ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Queen of Nothing - Holly Black ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Chasing Love - Kat T. Mason ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Chasing Us - Kat T. Mason ⭐⭐ The Last Storm - J. D. Linton ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Last Draig - J. D. Linton ⭐⭐⭐⭐ When You Were Mine - Cindy Tanner ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Ends of Being - Mercyann Summers ⭐⭐⭐⭐ What Doesn't Kill Us - Mercyann Summers ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Flowers for the Devil - Vlad Kahany ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Fate Calls the Elf Queen - J. M. Kearl ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Brooklyn Cupid - Lexi Ray ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Crown the Fae Forgot - Eden Beck ⭐⭐ A Court of Dragons and Vows - G. Bailey ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Carnage - Shantel Tessier ⭐⭐⭐ Court of Ravens and Ruin - Eliza Raine ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Court of Greed and Gold - Eliza Raine ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Court of Monsters and Malice - Eliza Raine ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Court of Serpents and Secrets - Eliza Raine ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Between Love and Loathing - Shain Rose ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ I Always Did - Evangeline Williams ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Love and Tequila Make Her Crazy - Brittanee Nicole ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Heir of Monsters - G. Bailey ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Possession of Monsters - G. Bailey ⭐⭐⭐ The Grand Pact - J. C. Hawke ⭐⭐⭐ Heart of a Monster - Shain Rose ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Love of a Queen - Shain Rose ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Moonlit Temptation - Penelope Black ⭐⭐ Pour Judgement - Heather Orgeron ⭐⭐⭐ Reign of the Dragon Queen - Cadence Connor ⭐⭐ Whispers of You - Catherine Cowles ⭐⭐⭐⭐ It Figures - Melody Tyden ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Figuring It Out - Melody Tyden ⭐⭐⭐⭐ A Court of Thorns and Roses (Dramatized Adaptation) - Sarah J. Maas (Graphic Audio) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Wood You Rather? - Daphne Elliot ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Off to the Races - Elsie Silver ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Echoes of You - Catherine Cowles ⭐⭐⭐⭐ A Court of Mist and Fury (Dramatized Adaptation) - Sarah J. Maas (Graphic Audio) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Hopeless Romantic - Julie Capulet ⭐⭐ Beloved - Corinne Michaels ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Beholden - Corinne Michaels ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Watercolor Skulls - L. M. Terry ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Cracked Foundation - Bex Dawn ⭐⭐⭐ Lotus - Jennifer Hartmann ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Truly Madly Deeply Mine - Katherine Jay ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Two-Date Warning - M. L. Chambers ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Cordially Hexed - Lyra Winters ⭐ Under the Stars - Laura Pavlov ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 67 total books read in November.

[ambrial-blog]

It had been six long, dreadful years of silence. And over sixty-six unanswered letters lying unopened on a small wooden table and another Six more years of unyielding nightmares. Striker was trapped within a continuous loop. Night after night, gripped with icy terror. Awakening drenched in ice-cold sweat. Hand reaching across an empty bed, throat raw from screaming his name. A pair of glowing yellow eyes scan the room, blinking back the sleep residue that matted his eyes. “There ya are, I thought I lost ya- wish you were here, sugar cube maybe then the nightmares would subside” pale fingers reach up, grasping the framed photograph of two hell-born children frozen in time. One was sitting on a wooden swing, a broad smile on his face, the other standing behind him, on top of the swing gripping the chains, his cowboy hat shielding his serpent-like face from the molten sun.

The sandy-haired cowboy sat up with a sudden jolt. And it had been six years ago to the day he had last seen Blitzo. The night that Lord Mammon had set fire to the helter-skelter ranch. Sending out his robotic Fizzorolli’s in a frantic search with orders to subdue and capture a wayward Harlequin, their star attraction.

What occurred on that rainy night, on Helter-Skelter Ranch, kept him up with night-frights till this very day. Striker closes his eyes at the bitter memory that plagues him, gritting past the vicious agony searing through his chest. The Sharp rancorous- bitterness ripped right through him as he slapped the photo across the room. He was grimacing at the sound of cracking glass as his voice echoed in his head.

“Wrath isn’t so bad, not with you here, Blitzo.”

Striker falls to his knees, clutching his head, his nails digging into his skull.

“Will you marry me Blitzo?”

“I attend to make you my wife,” he declares.

- Can I keep you? Blitzo

“I love you Blitzo.”

Striker numbly reaches for the shattered picture frame, brushing the broken glass away.

It was the only thing he had left of him, a silly little memento that rattle took. A single picture. A constant reminder of what he had lost and who had paid for it in the end. “My dad’s a professional,” Striker declares. “You’ve should’ve seen him cut the baby piglet from it sow of a mother: smooth like butter,” Striker tells Blitzo. “You have nothing to worry about I promise you, this procedure will be over before you know it and Blitzo if you're scared you can hold my hand, cause I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures.

It was the week of Blitzo’s surgery. They were attempting to cut Lord Mammon’s trackers from Blitzo’s palm, the sole of his foot, and his abdomen.

“Everything is going to be alright, don’t look at him look at me,” Striker says, turning his head. “Look into my eyes- that’s right darlin.”

“Their just checking to see how deep those trackers are. The sooner they get them out the happier you’ll be”

“This isn’t good,” Rattle says. “The trackers are in too deep,” he tells his best friend Scarecrow and his son.

“What does this mean?” Blitzo asks, looking up into his uncle’s troubled eyes.

“It means we have to wait,” Scar tells him. “Just a little longer,” he promises, but knows that the longer he waits, the chances of Lord Mammon finding his nephew increases.

“How long?” Blitzo finally asks after a long interlude of silence, grimacing as Rattle continues to press his claw into the sole of his foot, testing the depth.

“Two weeks minimum, after each procedure,” Rattle answers.

“Two weeks, too long-what if he finds me by then?, I’ll be putting you in danger,”

“none of us here cares" says Scar. “I’ve been fighting off Lord Mammon since you and Barbie were in diapers”

“This old farm ain’t going nowhere, and if it did then, I’d rather start all over again, then lose you”

Blitzo had gone missing the following week. Everyone had been out searching for him, Striker had found him, curled up in the loft of a barn. His face buried into his arms, his crimson tail wrapped around him. He was fast asleep. Dried tears crested his eyes. Body shivering from the cold. Striker frowned as another shiver ran down Blitzo’s spine, the crimson imp curled in on himself, giving a tiny hiss as he peers over his tail. His eyes bright and feverish. Striker cursed. Scarecrow and Rattle had turned this ranch upside down, searching for the crimson devil.

“Just send me back Striker, this ranch is all my uncle has left, nothing can compare.”

“Six months isn’t as long as you think Blitzo and I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere,”

“Ha!-” Blitzo laughs bitterly. “Fizz said the same thing. Now I’m the only one left. Those robotic versions of him are nothing more than a nuisance,”

The snake imp shakes his head. “No, once the trackers are cut and disposed of, you’ll be happier. It’s your fear that is talking, don’t be afraid darlin, I am with you,”

[mrsmegadrive]

I’m watching Broken Skull Ranch and now I just want Steve Austin to scream encouraging things at me any time I’m struggling.