#but who can pass up rancher love huh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warofshadowstheorder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 05

Bledsoe never enjoyed flying. Growing up on a Cattle Ranch in Rory, Wyoming she was much more comfortable in a saddle than an aisle seat. She’d never been on an airplane until she left for college. It was a new experience, and as soon as she got back on the ground she knew that she wanted to avoid air travel whenever possible.

This particular trip was made worse by the fact that she was with Taylor the entire time. The two of them were civil to each other on the commercial flight to Miami, primarily because Bledsoe spent most of the flight on the earbuds she brought with her. They were at each other’s throats for most of the private flight to Guantanamo.

For every time Taylor reiterated his theory of Bledsoe being an informant to the assassin, Bledsoe gave a very well-placed and calculated verbal jab at Taylor’s ego or bandaged nose. After Taylor used a crude term to describe her, Bledsoe let loose with a barrage of several words she had heard her cattle-rancher dad use out in the pasture.

“Real nice language for an Ivy League graduate,” Taylor replied, “did you ever go to class or did you just give your professors inside information in exchange for passing grades?”

“First off,” Bledsoe said, “I was a cattleman’s daughter long before I ever set foot on Yale. And secondly, I learned early that one should communicate at the level of one’s audience, which forces conversation with you to the level of non-fertilizer grade manure. Or, in words you can understand…bullshit.”

Taylor was visibly shaken by this and getting ready to offer a fierce retort when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

“You’ll want to fasten your seatbelts back there, we’re making our final descent.”

Taylor muttered something under his breath and buckled his seatbelt while Bledsoe sat down and did the same. The descent went by without event. As the plane coasted on the runway, Bledsoe looked out her window and saw a military jeep waiting on the tarmac.

Two Marines stepped out of the jeep when the plane stopped moving and stood by the entrance ramp. Taylor and Bledsoe each put on their sunglasses, picked up their respective carryon bags, and moved to the door.

The contrast in temperatures was evident when they were met by a blast of tropical climate, an oppressive combination of heat and humidity unknown to D.C. residents, the moment they crossed the threshold between the plane and the outside. The sun was beginning to set and twilight was upon them, but the air outside still felt like walking on the bottom of a heated swimming pool. Inwardly, Bledsoe wondered why anyone wanted to retire to the tropics.

“Welcome to Guantanamo sir, ma’am” the first Marine said as Taylor and then Bledsoe came down, “Gunnery Sergeant Andrews and Lance Corporal Jacobi. My dad said that you’d be coming.”

Gunnery Sergeant Michael Andrews had grown up in the Secret Service lifestyle and had nothing but respect and admiration for his father. His father had served in the military prior to joining the Service and encouraged his son to do the same when he initially expressed interest in following in his footsteps.

He took his father’s advice and enlisted in the Marines immediately after graduating from High School. He’d initially planned on sweating out a tour and getting some college courses completed before finishing up his Degree and joining the Secret Service. That plan fell through when he discovered that he loved the Corps too much to leave it behind.

Consequently, several years, promotions, and deployments later he found himself at his current assignment. His only concerns in life were accomplishing his present objective before moving on to the next ones.

“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said standing so that Bledsoe was completely blocked from view and shaking Andrews’ hand, “I imagine that you know why I’m here.”

“Affirmative Agent Taylor,” Andrews answered, “and if you would take a vest from Lance Corporal Jacobi here,” he gestured to his fellow Marine who was holding two bulletproof vests, “we’ll get moving.”

Taylor walked up to Jacobi, took a vest from him and strapped it on before climbing into the front seat of the jeep.

“You must be Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews said shaking her hand. “My dad wanted to let you know that there will be a plane here tomorrow to take you back to the homeland.”

“Thank you Gunnery Sergeant,” Bledsoe answered earning a smile from the Gunnery Sergeant before taking the vest from Jacobi and sitting next to him in the back of the jeep. Bledsoe was extremely upset about not being able to stay for the entire interrogation. But, she remembered what Assistant Director Andrews had said before she and Taylor left and knew that she was fortunate to be getting to do as much as she was. Gunnery Sergeant Andrews started up the jeep and the four of them drove off.

“What can you tell us about him?” Taylor asked after a few moments.

“Nothing,” Andrews answered, “we took his biometrics and a DNA sample when we processed him. But he doesn’t show up anywhere on the grid. We’ve even run his info through INTERPOL, and we still come up empty. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“Have you questioned him,” Taylor asked, “please tell me that you’ve got something we can build on.”

“Some of the MPs have questioned him,” Andrews replied, “HUMINT will work on him later. All he’s said so far is…” he paused trying to remember, “Lance Corporal Jacobi, what did he say?”

Corporal Jacobi took out a piece of paper and read the writing on it. “He said, ‘war is declared and battle come down.’ Then later when we asked what he meant by that he responded ‘The ice age is coming with a meltdown expected, but I have no fear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taylor asked, “Is this guy part of some terrorist organization? Maybe eco-terrorism?”

Bledsoe, who had been mouthing what was said after “…the ice age is coming,” laughed from the backseat. Taylor and Jacobi both turned to look at her.

“What the hell is so funny?!” blurted Taylor rudely, “is that some kind of code that you and all your assassin cohorts use?!”

Andrews and Jacobi shot confused sideways glances at the sound of Taylor’s voice.

“When you question him later,” Bledsoe answered slightly annoyed but with a hint of her earlier laugh, “ask him if he lives by the river?.” There was a pause while all three of the men in the jeep got confused looks on their faces. “Don’t you guys ever listen to The Clash?!” She asked the last part in a voice that suggested a simultaneous disbelief and disgust, “That’s paraphrased from London Calling.”

“Huh,” Jacobi said, “thank you ma’am. We’ve been trying to figure that out for hours.”

The rest of the drive passed by in silence, the embarrassment of Bledsoe’s comment and his own outburst festered within Taylor’s mind the entire way. Taylor and Bledsoe got their visitor’s passes as they entered through the Northeast gate. They drove near the facility and then got out of the jeep, leaving their bags inside.

“Sir, ma’am, I recommend you be quick,” Andrews said as he led them to an interrogation room after they checked their weapons, “because his lawyer is on his way down and you know once he gets here we’ll be very limited in what information we can get.”

Taylor and Bledsoe were silent as they made their way down the hallway. Both of them were thinking of what they were going to do next, and relishing the feel of the air-conditioned building. All the anger and frustration that Taylor was feeling since the assassination was threatening to come out, but he was keeping things in check by reminding himself that he had a job to do and needed to be focused.

Bledsoe replayed every aspect of the night Saunders was shot inside her head, completely aware that her assigned mission at the detention facility was to identify the suspect. Having not seen either man’s entire face that night, and not having had any time to watch the news or read the papers since the assassination, all she had to go on was a pair of Prussian blue eyes, and she knew that it would be almost impossible to postively identify him based on that feature alone.

The only other traits she had to go on were views of both of them from behind dressed in black. She had grappled up close and personal with the one they had in custody, but didn’t think that the guards would be keen with her fighting him again as a means to identify him based on his technique.

“Well,” Andrews said breaking them out of their respective trances, “there he is.”

The two agents looked through the one-way glass at the man who didn’t exist. He wore an orange jumpsuit and was shackled by handcuffs and leg irons. He sat calmly with his hands folded. The people observing him didn’t know what to make of his appearance. He didn’t have a look that suggested he was uncomfortable, or confident, or even crazy. He just sat complacently and occasionally twiddled his thumbs or drummed his fingers.

“You can do whatever you want with him,” Andrews said, “we’ve turned off the camera and Lance Corporal Jacobi and I will be going out to the front to wait for the lawyer.”

“Is there anything else we should know about before we go in there?” Taylor asked.

“Only that we turned off the air-conditioner,” Andrews answered, “but I don’t think it’s having any effect on him.”

“I know,” Jacobi interjected in disbelief, “it’s crazy. One time the A/C went out in our office building and we thought we’d die. He’s been in there for more than two hours and hasn’t even shown any sign of discomfort. Seriously, I’ve seen locals here break down under conditions like what this guy’s been through.”

“In any case,” Andrews continued, “until the lawyer gets here, he’s all yours.”

The Marines then walked back down the corridor. Taylor and Bledsoe both looked at Odin for a few more moments before Taylor faced Bledsoe.

“You stay here. I don’t need you interfering with my interrogation and telling your friend how to escape.”

Taylor entered the interrogation room and closed the door behind him before Bledsoe could reply. She settled for looking through the glass at the events transpiring inside the room.

Taylor walked in and stood on the other side of the table from where the prisoner sat. It was obvious that the man’s captors hadn’t made anything easy on him. He was unshaven and filthy, and it didn’t take a Bloodhound to notice that he hadn’t bathed in quite some time. The backs of his eyes were red with bags under them, and yet the expression on his face was one of confidence. It was clear that the prisoner was in control, if only in his own mind.

Taylor paused for a moment, waiting for the prisoner to make the first move. The bare walls in the room and the empty atmosphere were a stark contrast to the unexpressed tension in the air between Taylor and the man sitting down in front of him.

“Hey,” the prisoner said snapping his fingers and speaking in a confident voice devoid of any accent, “I recognize you from the pavilion. Although, I have to admit it’s a little difficult with that thing over your nose.”

“Who the hell are you?” Taylor said as calmly as he could manage, “tell me that much and this little interview will go a lot better for you.”

“Okay,” the prisoner said in a hoarse whisper, “you caught me, so I guess that it’s time to fess up to everything.”

Taylor sat down and leaned forward, interested to know just who the man across from him was.

“My name is Clark Kent, and when I’m not undermining the reputation of law enforcement agencies, I’m a mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet.” Raising his voice to normal levels, the prisoner quipped. “Does that work for you?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Taylor answered trying to suppress the anger welling up inside him. “If you don’t want to tell us who you are then that will become your problem soon enough. However,” he paused briefly to ensure that he had Odin’s attention, “I would like to know how you were able to pull that off.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Odin asked.

“How were you…” Taylor said, pausing to regain his composure, “…able to infiltrate security, bring in what I can only imagine was a sniper rifle, literally dodge bullets, one of my colleagues tells me you and another man literally disappeared in front of her, and then there’s the matter of you fighting off around two dozen well-trained men.”

“Well,” the prisoner answered acting like he was thinking hard, “I suppose it all started back when I was fifteen and I began wondering why that cartoon bird keeps eating Cocoa Puffs when they clearly make him mentally unstable…”

“Shut up,” Taylor said with a calm but annoyed tone, “if you aren’t going to give me a straight answer then just say so.”

“I can deal with that. But seriously, do you think that you’re going to get any real information from me?”

“It would be in your best interest,” Taylor answered. “It would help your case and prevent your jailers from using any unpleasant means to obtain information that you’re withholding.”

The shackled prisoner started laughing after Taylor’s last statement. Taylor stared at him with a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

“You know what’s funny?” drawled the man in the orange jumpsuit. “You actually think that I’m stuck here, that you’ve got me locked up.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” Taylor said, “but look around. You can’t get any more stuck than you are.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” came the confident reply, “I’m only here as long as I want to be. I can leave anytime I want. And there is nothing you, or anyone else, can do to prevent that.”

Bledsoe had been watching and listening to all the proceedings. She found herself being amused by the man who was trying Taylor’s patience more than anyone she’d ever seen. She was also paying close attention to everything she could observe about him now that he wasn’t in his tactical clothes. As she continued to take in everything she could, she tried to remember as much as possible from the incident two nights ago.

Staring intently at Odin, but mindful of her surroundings, she could hear a few people approaching where she was standing, but kept her gaze fixed on the shackled man.

“Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews called out as he approached. Bledsoe turned to see him and Jacobi escorting a short man with a receding hairline and a constant twitch on the left side of his face.

“How’s it going in there with your partner?” Andrews asked.

“I don’t think he’s making any real progress,” she replied honestly. “And who are you?” she politely asked the short man.

“I’m the counsel for the accused,” he answered in a nasally voice, “and from the looks of things you’ve had enough private time with my client.” Moving to the door, he entered the room and pulled up a chair next to his client. Bledsoe watched him share some words with Taylor, who then left the room, leaving the accused to confer with his counsel.

As he closed the interrogation room door, Taylor vented his frustration. “Okay Bledsoe, can you give us anything on that degenerate?”

“I can’t say whether he was the one who pulled the trigger,” she said, “but I can tell you for sure that he was the one I fought with and not the one who jumped me.”

“And how the hell can you tell that?” Taylor asked still in his frustrated tone.

“I got the feeling that the guy who jumped me was a lot quieter than he is. And besides,” she took another good look at Odin, “his eyes aren’t the same.”

“You never mentioned that you’d seen his eyes,” Taylor said still frustrated.

“I didn’t think it was relevant at the time,” Bledsoe answered, “but the man who jumped me had Prussian blue eyes. In any case, this isn’t him.”

“Who’s going to be prosecuting him?” Taylor asked Andrews.

“We’re still trying to figure out whose jurisdiction he falls under,” Andrews answered, “I already told you that he doesn’t show up at all on the grid. We can’t even place where he’s from. Our hands are tied until we can figure out some kind of jurisdiction. We can only get away with keeping him here for so long.”

“Well,” Taylor said with his back to Bledsoe, standing between her and Andrews, “we should try to pressure him into giving us his accomplice. At the very least we can take the death penalty off the table.”

Realizing that her part was done, Bledsoe started off down the hallway.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Corporal Jacobi called out as she walked past him while Taylor and Andrews continued their conversation, “but if you would like to rest before you head back, we can provide you with a temporary hooch.”

“That would be very nice,” Bledsoe answered. She had been so caught up in everything that was going on and her arguments with Taylor throughout the trip down that she hadn’t noticed how exhausted she was. She could never sleep on a plane.

“This way then ma’am,” Jacobi replied before leading Bledsoe down the corridor and outside.

The sun had set, the moon and stars now decorating the evening sky. Jacobi took Bledsoe to the jeep and drove her to an area near the barracks. He led her to a room near the front where a cot had been set up with a pillow and a blanket.

“I’m sorry that we can’t offer you more, ma’am,” Jacobi said, “I’m afraid this is the best we can do on short notice.”

“This is fine,” Bledsoe said as she sat down on the cot and placed her bag on the floor, “thank you.” Jacobi nodded and excused himself, leaving Bledsoe to her new accommodations.

Bledsoe took off her shoulder holster and placed it on the floor next to her bag. She stretched out on the cot and stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t help thinking of the man that she could only refer to as Clark Kent and the fact that his accomplice was still out there somewhere. It tore her apart inside to remember that she was going to have to sit it out while others searched for the accomplice and eventually prosecuted Clark Kent. Within minutes, her exhaustion took over and she drifted into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming almost immediately after falling asleep. She was on another assignment and patrolling her designated area. As she pacing around, she turned and saw the same eyes of the man who had jumped her from the shadows in the pavilion. She stood facing him, not knowing what to do.

Her assailant just stood and faced her. She stared into his eyes, the image that had been indelibly burned into her psyche since the brief moment when she had seen them. After what seemed like an eternity, Bledsoe spoke.

“Who are you?” she asked, the dream mists blocking all sounds from her earpiece, masking all else from her surroundings.

The figure just stood where he was, immobile. Bledsoe stared straight ahead at him, transfixed, searching to take in anything new. Knowing his height from seeing the back of him, she endeavored to fill in the rest.

She remembered the G.I. Joe comic books her older brother Hunter collected and used the character named Snake-Eyes to construct a form for the bane of her existence. She waited in anticipation, and then held her breath when he reached his hand forward in a motion that suggested he was about to remove whatever kind of mask he was wearing and reveal his face.

At that moment, the blaring sound of a siren piercing the night sky jarred her awake.

#novel #action-adventure #fantasy #historical fiction

1 note · View note

stubborn-beast · 4 years

Text

Good Hands | 1

“Iron Ridge Veterinary Practice, what can I do for you today…?”

Valkyrie barely had time to hide her laughter behind her hand when Pepper rolled her eyes, natural smile becoming forced.

“No, Mrs. Johnson, Dr. Lee isn’t here any longer… No, I don’t believe he plans on coming out of retirement to see Mr. Kittles… I can assure you that our current veterinarian, Dr. Carbonell is perfectly capable –“

Pepper’s fingers began to fly over the keyboard as she talked, Valkyrie putting the file folder she’d been holding back onto the counter before turning to walk back down the hall. A familiar, muted scent caught her attention as she rounded the corner and stepped into the open doorway of the break room.

“Tash, whatcha doin’?”

The Omega looked up from the coffee pot and gave Valkyrie a pretty smile, inviting the Beta to approach and lean against the counter. She eyed the teal scrubs Natasha was wearing with interest, only to raise her gaze and see the exhaustion on the Omega’s face.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I s’pose. Makin’ enough for me, too?”

“Of course, Val. And Tony. We all know what happened last time.”

Both women shuddered before laughing, filling their mugs and sipping before becoming aware of their boss by the sugary scent of the Omega as he whipped into the room.

“Coffee? You’re both brilliant. We’ll need it for the seven neuters I have on the schedule –“

“Seven?!” Valkyrie squawked, jumping as Natasha pinched her shoulder. The redhead ran a hand through her hair and leveled a look at Tony.

“- can’t forget the nail trim on Logan’s dog –“

“God, why couldn’t I forget that?”

“- oh, and we’ll probably have to see Mr. Kittles, judgin’ from the phone call Pep was takin’ a minute ago.”

Tony groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Mrs. Johnson cared greatly for her large orange tabby, Mr. Kittles, and also for digging her nose into everyone else’s business. The town gossip had a penchant for focusing on Tony, the newest resident to arrive and an Omega with no Alpha to speak of.

“Alright, bottoms up then, ladies. Let’s get to work.”

Tony raised his mug to them both, waiting for them to return the gesture, before chugging the fresh coffee.

Both girls laughed as he sputtered around the hot liquid and stalked to the front of the building to talk the schedule with Pepper.

What he wasn’t expecting to see when he reached the reception desk was a tall body of broad muscles in tight jeans and shirt fit to burst at the seams.

Holy sh-

He stood, speechless, staring at the blond bombshell in front of him as he was bent, resting on the counter and conversing with Pepper.

“ – she’s due any day now, so I’d like’ta have an on-call situation scheduled –“

“No problem, Mr. Rogers. We will gladly help out in any way we can. Dr. Carbonell makes house calls, just as Dr. Lee did.”

Pepper pointedly looked towards Tony, who was prompted to close his mouth and quit looking like an idiot.

“Well… s’long as my Bessy is in good hands…”

Innuendo.

“I can assure you,” Pepper answered, her smile too smug as she glanced at the other Omega and saw the blush creeping into his face as he finally pulled his eyes from the tall Alpha, “Our Dr. Carbonell has very skilled hands, the best in the field.”

“Uh… right, thank you for that, Pepper,” Tony said, trying to scrape the last of his pride off of the floor as he approached the taller man with a hand extended.

“Dr. Carbonell, at your service.” He really hoped his hands weren’t as sweaty as he suspected. Hopefully, tall-blond-and-handsome would just think he had washed his hands.

“Lovely t’meet ya, Doc. I’m Steve Rogers,” he drawled and Tony just about melted, feeling the warm, thick digits wrapping around his hand to return his welcome gesture. “I own Iron Ranch offa East Lake.”

“I’ve driven by there. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank ya.”

Tony thought he spotted a bit of heat crawling up the rancher’s neck, but he chalked it up to a lack of sleep and the caffeine kicking in.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure I can help with… Bessy, was it? When the time comes for her to give birth.” He’d only done a handful of cow births in his career, but he felt confident enough in his abilities. The smile Steve gave him was megawatt and Tony felt his heart skip slightly in his chest.

Jesus, he really needed to lay off of the caffeine.

“I’m sure ya can, Doc. I’ll be sure ta give th’office a call when comes time,” he said, bobbing his head and rocking slightly on the heels of his boots.

Who knew I had a thing for cowboy boots?

“Well, the office closes at seven during the week and five on weekends, but here-“ Tony reached over the desk and tore a post-it from the stack near Pepper. The redhead’s eyes widened as she watched the interaction with curiosity and a secret smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “- this is the emergency number to my phone, directly. I know births don’t follow a schedule, and a house call might work best in this circumstance. Call whenever there’s an emergency and I’ll be there.”

Tony turned around, having had the moment of jotting his number down to compose himself, and smiled as he passed off the bright orange slip to the Alpha. From past experience, Tony was used to turning around and catching the remains of leering glances whenever Alphas were able to sneak a peak at him. He was pleasantly surprised to see nothing but eye contact – damn, those were some baby blues - and that grin.

“Thank ya ‘gain, Doc. Y’all will be hearin’ from me soon, I s’pect.”

“Oh, we’ll be happy to help,” Valkyrie piped up from the hallway entrance, drawing the trio’s attention to where she and Natasha were standing and watching the interaction.

Now it was Tony’s turn to feel heat creeping up his neck as he shot both women a look.

“Yes, well-“ Tony began, struggling for words as he slowly turned back to face the tall rancher, when the bell above their front door dinged and a shorter Beta filed through with a wave of one hand and an enormous dog leashed in the other.

“Doc, sorry I’m late! Stuck behind a horse and buggy – who knew those things were still around?”

Pepper was laughing and rolling her eyes as she stood up from behind the desk, holding out a clipboard to the newest arrival.

“Mr. Barton, pleasure to see you again. Here’s the paperwork for Bones you need to fill out for his procedure.”

“Right, two less eggs in the basket for you, mister!”

Laughter sounded from Valkyrie and Natasha, while Tony merely shook his head and caught sight of the redness creeping up Steve’s neck as he inched towards his escape. He caught eyes with Tony and the Omega thought he saw his smile soften just a little bit.

“See y’all later,” he said with a wave as he awkwardly slipped out the front door. Tony raised his hand in a wave as well before turning back towards Clint and crouching down to the massive height of the dog pulling towards him.

“Bones, huh? We’re going to get you all fixed up and find you a good home with a big yard, children to ride you, and toys to slobber on, hmm?”

Tony scratched under the mastiff’s jowls and cooed at him, allowing the dog to lick over his hands before straightening back up.

“Yeah, this one’s a real lover. But most of the big ones are, right?”

Clint waggled his eyebrows towards Tony before nodding his head to the door Steve had just gone through. The Omega laughed and shook his head, waving a hand as he turned on his heel and walked towards the hallway.

“I’ll have to take your word for it, Clint. Val and Tasha will take Bones from you, won’t you ladies?”

Valkyrie let out an unattractive sound as the massive dog jumped up onto her and knocked her flat. Natasha made sure to pat the dog on the head while Pepper waved Clint out.

“So… Steve sure had some long eye contact with Tony,” Natasha mentioned, taking the paperwork from Clint’s clipboard and shooting a look to Pepper. The other redhead smirked and shrugged a slim shoulder, her pastel pink scrubs shifting with the motion.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s not the last we’ll see of Mr. Rogers,” Pepper said with humor in her tone. Natasha smiled as she tapped her fingers on the paperwork and watched Valkyrie get dragged down the hallway.

“I agree.”

“Maybe he’ll bring his ranch hand with him next time?”

Natasha shot Pepper a look and her lips formed a serious line as she fought the urge to blush.

“I think you’re meddling, Ms. Potts.”

The receptionist’s laughter followed Natasha as she retreated down the hallway.

#good hands #good hands fic #small town avengers #marvel fic #marvel universe #mcu #stony #alpha!steve rogers #omega!tony #rancher!steve #veterinarian!tony #beta!valkyrie #omega!natasha #omega!pepper #alpha!bucky #steve x tony #marvel au #beta!clint #my writing

35 notes · View notes

smokinholsters · 4 years

Text

A Decision at the Crossroads

A Heartland AU - Chapter 1

Back up to speed after passing yet another work zone and those ridiculous signs touting that this delay was brought to you by a slew of politicians ‘rebuilding’ Alberta and then he smiled as a new song hit the speakers and he happily joined in.

“On a dark desert highway

Cool wind in my hair

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance

I saw a shimmering light

Head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

Had to stop for the night

There she stood in the doorway

Heard the mission bell

I was thinking to myself, ‘This could be heaven or this could be hell

Then she lit up a candle

She showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor

Thought I heard them say

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place

(Such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

Plenty of room at the Hotel California

Any time of year

(Any time of year)

You can find it here

“Call from Amy. To answer…..”

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hi Poppa, it’s Lyndy.”

“Hi honey, does momma know you have her phone ?”

“Of course, I’m helping.” Of course was Lyndy’s new catch phrase, neither he nor Amy had any idea where it came from.

“And how are you helping ?”

“Momma wants to know if you’ll be home by dinner.”

“I don’t think so sweetheart, I can’t go very fast with these horses, can I talk to momma ?”

“Of course but she’s helping JT in the bathroom so you’ll have to wait, are you singing with the radio ?”

“I sure am.”

“I like when you sing with momma.”

He heard Lyndy talking off the phone for a second before an obvious phone transfer, “Hello my love.”

“Hey sweetheart, what’s up with Jackson ?”

“Oh it was nothing, we were finger painting new pictures for the fridge to welcome you home, just some serious hand and face washing. No hope for dinner huh ?”

“No and they’re fixing the roads so there are detours with the trailer and the horses are still a bit skittish so I’m stopping to settle them often.”

“Well take your time and watch yourself with them.”

“Never mind me, how are you feeling ?”

“You mean aside from really missing you ?”

“That bad huh ? I love it when your pregnant.”

“Oh stop, it’s kind of fun.”

“More than kind of fun, anyway, I don’t think I’ll be that late but don’t wait up, you need your sleep.”

“Ok, we’ll see, Lisa’s making dinner, maybe I can catch a nap.”

“A nap would be great.”

“I promise to try, you stay safe.”

“I will, love you !!”

“We love you too sweetheart.”

There was no really direct route from Northern Alberta to the South so from Cold Lake down, with the idea of keeping the trailer on the most sound roads possible the rescues were transported in a weirdly circuitous path around large cities but at the same time keeping to at least paved roads as opposed to what sometimes passed as a numbered and posted road in Alberta, nothing more than dirt that two cars could pass together.

There was also the stopping, sometimes a quick pit stop for food, water or to use a rest room and sometimes just to see the horses and have them see him, check on feed, water and a gently pat and offer a calm word to settle them. They were mostly better from the medical problems stemming from their abandonment and lack of nutrition but mentally they were distrusting, skittish and somewhat unpredictable. Ordinarily they would have left the kids for a few days at the ranch with family and Amy would have come along but with her pregnant and the unsurety of a trailer and transport they decided against it. Besides Amy wasn’t sleeping well and out of her first trimester they had decided that this was best, home at the ranch. It was a lonely drive but there was the scenery and the radio.

“You who are on the road

Must have a code that you can live by

And so become yourself

Because the past is just a good-bye.

Teach your children well,

Their father's hell did slowly go by,

And feed them on your dreams

The one they picks, the one you'll know by.

Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you will cry,

So just look at them and sigh

And know they love you.

And you, of tender years,

Can't know the fears that your elders grew by,

And so please help them with your youth,

They seek the truth before they can die.

Teach your parents well,

Their children's hell will slowly go by,

And feed them on your dreams

The one they picks, the one you'll know by.

Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you will cry,

So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.”

Traffic was slowing again up ahead and the truck slowed and finally came to a stop. 30 minutes later following the other cars and trucks inching along he was exited onto yet another of the endless detours that seemed to plague this trip. Turning twice it seemed the detour included a terrible pot hole filled road that was mostly dirt at this point.

35 minutes later after brushing the dirt from his knees and wiping his brow with his sleeve he reached for his phone and dialed.

“Hey, you Ok ?”

“Cracked rocker arm on the truck I think, damned potholes, I was so focused on the trailer I must have missed it. The horses are fine but I’m going to have to get this trailer towed somewhere I can keep these horses overnight and get the truck picked up. Maybe I’ll luck out and there’s a Dodge dealership close that has the rocker in stock.”

“So what’s the plan ?”

“I guess I’ll call the local vet first and see if they can recommend someplace that can isolate these three. Maybe even a garage that can deal with an emergency and we’ll see where we are first thing. I’d hate for someone to have to drive up.”

“We’ll hope for the best, but we’ll all miss not having you back tonight.”

“I know, kiss the kids for me, I’ll call later once I have some idea of what’s going on.”

“and for goodnights.”

“And for good nights. Love you.”

“So much in love with you.”

Once the horses were picketed out between the woods and the trailer, hay spread and water supplied he checked his phone and dialed.

“Nelson Lake Veterinary Clinic, your call is important to us, please hold.”

“Nelson Lake, this is Dr. Burton can I help you ?”

It took a few minutes for introductions and to run the sad tale by Dr. Burton who understood immediately.

“How about this, stay put and I’ll call my tech and get him on board and then let the sheriff know you’re out there. Once that’s done we’ll see about the truck, I’d like those horses off the road.”

“I’m all for that, you have my number ?”

“Yup, just fine, call you back in 10.”

The Police cruiser pulled past the trailer and truck and onto the side of the road a respectful distance from the horses so as not to spook them and walked over to introduce himself.

Immediately after greetings and introductions the phone rang.

“Go ahead, that’s probably Kelsey, uh Dr. Burton” the officer who had introduced himself as Matthew Connolly told him “Alright if I say hello to these three ?”

Answering the phone he nodded at the officer and then covered the phone “tread lightly they’re rescues.”

The plan wasn’t that complicated, the clinic’s vet tech would come in the clinic truck with the wrecker who would disconnect the truck from the trailer, hook the clinic truck to the trailer and then follow the trailer back to the stables that would house the horses. In the morning they would get the truck off the ground and see what was up and move on from there.

“Should be 20 minutes or so, you don’t have to wait.”

“I’m going to turn around and park behind you, I don’t like the horses open like that, they see my cruiser they won’t do something stupid like pull an air horn.”

“I hate to take your time but I do appreciate it.”

“I’m fine so where you hail from ?”

“We have a small ranch down near Hudson.”

“Hudson ? Whereabouts is that ?

“Let’s see Okotoks?”

“Oh sure, you’ve got a herd ?”

“Two actually, White Face, my wife’s family has a herd we’re partners in, they’re just down the road, and we’ve got a herd at our place, best beef in Alberta.”

“And the rescues ?”

“My wife’s business is horses, training, rehab, you name it.”

“Kids ?”

“Two, girl and a boy and one on the way.”

He swiped his finger over the screen and handed the phone to Officer Connolly.

“Nice looking family, that’s your spread behind you, looks inviting.”

“I love it and them, pretty idyllic if you ask me, our family almost sold it a few years ago, don’t know what we were thinking.”

“Young and stupid like the rest of us.”

Two chairs were pulled from a side storage locker on the trailer and there was an almost fresh thermos of coffee the young officer offered.

“Always wanted to be a sheriff, police work ?”

“Oh yeah, my Uncle Pete was a Mountie, that was awesome.”

“No serge for you though ?”

“Bum knee from hockey, fine for a sheriff but not a Mountie. No complaints, I live with the people I serve and I like it. I guess you’ve always wanted to be a rancher.”

“Early on for sure and now I wouldn’t trade it for anything but I did a stint in the Army and when I came home was off to the oil fields but I met my wife.”

“Guys go off to the field and back to the army and have wives.”

“Not me, marriage is a commitment, you don’t mess with that. Small trips and the like fine but 4 month commitments away, doesn’t seem right. Besides I don’t think I could be away from her, the kids or the ranch for that long.”

“That’s nice though, you know, the way it should be.”

“Before the kids and sometimes if we get volunteers for the kids we do trips like this together, it’s why we bought this thing. How about you, married ?”

“Soon enough, engaged, can’t wait, we have a down payment on a small place with a bit of property, she’s a teacher but we both wanted some land, maybe get a couple horses.”

“Some nice country for riding around here, not a bad way to spend time for newlyweds.”

They stopped and got up leaving their empty cups when the pickup pulled behind the cruiser and the wrecker pulled up in front of the trailer rig.

“Matt, how’s everything ?” The younger man asked walking up and then a second later the second, an older man also walked over. “Matt, Ty” he said smiling.

“Dwayne Coolidge, Ty Borden” this is Mitch uhmm.”

“Cutty, Mitch Cutty, thanks to both of you for coming out.”

“It’s what we do” Dwayne said, “Ok, let’s crank down the trailer and see if we get lucky and it frees the truck.”

“Mitch, you have papers for these guys I can see ?” Ty asked “Sorry but the cops are here so, you know.” He finished with a smile at Mitch and the officer.

“We’ll start on the trailer.” Matt said walking around the truck to the jack handle assembly on the other side of the rig.”

Ty leaned against the trailer as Mitch reached in to grab the leather folder where he kept the important papers for the trip. A minute later he handed Ty the three stapled sets of papers and the vet reports.

“Well they’re clear medically, and let’s see Saddle Road Ranch Corporation, Hudson, AB. I know that area a little from years ago, can’t say I know the name, is it new ?”

“I’m 4th generation.”

“Guess not then,” Ty said filling out a form off the papers.

“How’s this going to work ?”

“Ok, well, once the trailer’s free and the truck’s out of the way we’ll hook it up the vet truck, load up the horses and head over to my place. The clinic has a four stall isolation barn there. I also run a small bike shop, mostly vintage repairs and restorations so in the morning we can look at your truck and figure something out. You can sleep in the house or hook up outside the barn, looks like a comfortable ride. Up to you.”

“I’m fine in the trailer and all set up actually if you’ve got a hose and a plug.”

“There’s actually a trailer hookup out there, I stayed in one while we got the house fixed up.”

“We ? Married Ty ?”

“Not yet anyway, we is Kelsey, or the clinic and I, we share ownership and I’m paying it off so eventually it’ll be mine. I’m finishing vet school next year so we have an agreement. By the way she’ll be stopping by in case you want to give them something to calm down after all of this.”

“No worries, I have some herbs that’ll do the trick, we try to steer clear of the drugs if we can, keep ‘em healthy and they stay that way.”

“Can’t argue with that philosophy I guess, consider the option though, one’s sure fired and one’s not.”

Mitch sat in his fold out chair in front of a small fire he had started in the fire pit. Dr. Burton had stopped by and took a quick look at the horses. She was satisfied that Mitch

was confident in his herbs and wished both he and Ty goodnight. Ty offered to share a take out order with Mitch declaring he’d have done it anyway and they settled on pizza which was delivered.

They ate and sipped a couple beers that Mitch supplied.

“If you don’t mind my asking, aren’t a bit old to be in vet school, take a break ?”

“Got sidetracked a few years ago and took a break in college, worked out Ok I guess between the bike work and vet work I’m doing well. You ?”

“After high school I did a stint in the military and went to school at the same time, electrical engineering mostly power line work. After I came back ,my folks were talking about selling the ranch and I had the idea of doing some oil work, change of pace kind of thing.”

“And ?”

“And, I met a woman, fell madly in love, kept the ranch.”

“Kids ?”

“Two, one on the way.” Mitch said finishing his beer. “I’m out.” He said placing the empty on the small table.

“I’ll grab a couple from the house” Ty said getting up as Mitch’s phone rang.

“Just in time” Ty said standing and turning as Mitch answered.

Ty caught the first of Mitch’s conversation, stopped for a second, shrugged and moved on.

“Hey Lyndy, you and JT call for goodnights ?”

#heartland #heartland-fanfiction #amy fleming #ty borden #mitch cutty

6 notes · View notes

beerecordings · 5 years

Note

Um, if that was a prompt for us to send things in, "Go on. Try to run." with whoever you choose?

okay..... i’m real proud of this one... thanks for the prompt, sid :) can you feel the American patriotism????? (because our nature scenes are the only thing we have going for us anymore???) anyway someone take a road trip with me

also sorry again i can’t get the read-more to work.... I know this post is long af. please tag it “long post” if you reblog, ty ty

Edit: not tumblr fucked up the spaces too, so there’s these *** instead of spaces. i am confusion.

tws for vomit mention, blood, implied character death, and car crash

***

He moves through the shadows of the mountains at his brother's side, curled up against the window of the shitty 2002 Dodge Neon they stole from a rancher's backyard at three in the morning, trying not to nightmare.

He dozes instead of sleeping, suspended in awakeness by the rapid thud-thud-thud of the vibrating window against his skull.

“Turn the radio on?” he asks drowsily, readjusting and putting his jacket against his head.

JJ pushes the power button on the radio and flicks through the channels, bypassing Mexican music complete with a joyful grito, hypermasculine country trash, the top 40s station, and an orchestral piece featuring an celloist going absolutely ham on Shostakovich's Symphony Number One before landing on a talk show about the declining white rhino population in Southern Africa.

Not what Chase would have picked, but he'll forgive his little brother's eccentrism for the relief of a voice to listen to.

“Two female Northern white rhinos live at the Pejeta Conservatory in Kenya, and today, they and the rest of the world are grieving a terrible loss – the death of the last male Northern white rhino, Sudan, who passed away last Monday at the ripe old age of forty-five.”

“That's sad,” Chase mumbles, rubbing his face. Fuck, he's hungry. Maybe he'll wake up after all. Sitting up in his chair, he heaves out a deep sigh and glances over at JJ, who doesn't even bother to nod, his exhausted eyes fixed on the road.

“You should let me drive next.”

Jameson shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably. His fingers are gripped very tight on the steering wheel.

“The loss of the Northern white rhino species has been sudden and devastating. In 2015, five rhinos lived in captivity, and there were hopes of babies being born to help save the species. But now, only two of the rhinos remain, and it seems their death warrant has been signed by the loss of Sudan.”

Chase glances out the window, where proud tall trees rise towards a fervently blue sky, heavy with spring greenery. Their car curves down a winding road through a rocky mountainside, spitting gravel off the side of the cliff as they speed along towards their destination.

What destination? Chase wonders, watching the light of the sun play along the surface of a quiet blue lake miles below them. Where can we go that he will not find us?

“Hey, any beef jerky left?”

Jamie shakes his head again, glancing over at his brother. A flicker of his old warmth wakes up in his eyes as he meets Chase's gaze, his twin in tiredness.

He takes his hands off the wheel long enough to sign, “Stop soon.”

“Okay.”

Chase reaches into the back and grabs Jackie's blood-stained backpack off the floor, taking out his journal one more time. He doesn't expect to find anything that will help them anymore.

He just misses his brother's handwriting.

“I think I'm getting paranoid,” reads the soft, scrawling script their brother left behind. “I can tell that he's coming. I can always tell. The glitches, Jack's condition. Sometimes I think Marvin can sense it too, because I hear him awake late at night, coughing on too much magic, full up on restless energy. I know I'm being overbearing, telling them all to stay close, trying to stop Schneep from going to work. I can't get him to stay home. I'm just scared Anti will take him away first. He works regular hours now and it's not safe. Anti could find him. Anti could find Jack. I don't want to be an ass. I just want to keep them safe.”

Chase swallows back tears – he's getting used to that burn at the back of his throat – and flips dully through the rest of the journal. Here are Jackie's notes on Anti's powers, signs of his oncoming appearances, what he's done in videos, what he seems to want. None of it was enough to save them.

If only he had been a little more overbearing.

“There used to be many Northern white rhinos, living happily throughout Northern Africa in large numbers. But the reason for their decline, and now, near extinction, is all too clear – poaching has led these innocent creatures to their end. Even now, the two remaining Northern white rhinos must be protected around the clock, wary of hunters at all time.”

“Can we listen to something else?” asks Chase.

“Today, we grieve the loss of this magnificent species, once a proud and numerous symbol of their homeland. With only two remaining, how can they expect to survive?”

JJ turns the radio off.

***

Chase peers up at the dawn sky from beneath the windshield, his eyes flickering between the dead highway before them and the breathing morning stars above him, glittering in the faraway satin of a bright pink sunrise.

“Some parts of America are really so pretty,” he says, wistful. Brown and black horses move past their car, watching from the hills and nudging their colts around with their noses. “I wish we were just on a roadtrip instead of on the run, you know? We could go somewhere nice. Camp out or something. No, never mind. Camping sounds miserable. We'll get a hotel and wander all the cities we like. Schneep always talked about traveling.”

He takes a sip from the caffeinated gas station soda in the cup holder beside him and then glances over to grin sadly at his brother, but JJ isn't looking. He sits with his head in his hand, frowning out the window, pale in the wan yellow light of the morning.

“Hey, you okay?”

No answer, but it's hard to have a conversation when Chase is supposed to be watching the road. And Jamie hasn't talked much lately anyway. Hardly at all, really. He just clings to Chase's side and glares at passersby in silence, his hand shoved into his pocket at all times. Chase is pretty sure he's always holding a knife these days. He never looks happy. He never looks safe.

Fuck, he'd just about kill to see him smile again.

Chase takes a deep breath and swallows down a burning at the back of his throat, reaching out to rub the back of JJ's neck roughly.

“Look, bud,” he sighs. “I know how hard you're trying to protect me, but I wish you'd look after yourself a little better. It's just you and me now, you know? And that – that isn't easy, but if we're going to survive... we both need to survive, right, man?”

JJ doesn't turn to him. The sunrise makes him pastel in blue and pink.

“I love you,” Chase adds. “I'm really glad you're here, J. What would I do without you, huh?”

He smiles and gives his brother another affectionate clap on the shoulder, adding a playful tug on his ear, trying to get him to look at him.

And Jameson turns and he is weeping.

“You'd be much better off without me,” he signs, and then he breaks down completely, slumped against the dashboard with gasping sobs trembling their way out of his mouth.

“Fuck,” Chase can't help but spit out, reaching out to leave a hand on his brother's back as he slams the brakes hard and drags their exhausted little car onto a quiet gravel shoulder, where only fence posts and sparsely forested grasslands stare back at them.

Chase unbuckles and gets out of the car, moving to Jameson's side and pulling open the door. After that, all he knows to do is reach out, gentle, and grab JJ's hand, ferocious.

He hasn't seen Jameson cry in weeks. He has been steel and defense, gritted teeth and deadened eyes, since what happened.

“Tell me what's going on,” he says.

“What's going on?” JJ demands, yanking his hand away. A magpie calls a reprimand to the trees, her black head shining with the golden light of the oncoming day. “Let's stop pretending there's any relief to be found in this, Chase. In escaping. In running. In fucking off to another country and wearing baseball caps low over our eyes and pretending the internet doesn't exist. In driving all day and all night, in grieving from the front seat of a stolen car, in never seeing home again.”

“Fine,” snaps Chase, gripping his hand and leaning closer. “Fine, there's nothing good about this. Does that make you feel better? There's nothing good about this situation.

Except you.”

Jameson stills, sniffling sadly and wiping harsh at the salt on his cheeks.

“You're all I got left, man,” Chase murmurs, putting his other hand on his shoulder. “You're everything. And I'm tired of seeing you so... quiet. Listen, I'm in grief too. You've heard me crying often enough to know. But if we're going to survive, we have to survive together. I need you healthy. Or as healthy as you can be. Capeesh?”

JJ looks up, his mouth trembling, and gives Chase the smallest nod.

“Tell me what's wrong.”

Jameson is pale and exhausted, thin with bad eating and long nights of running, hollowed and hopeless and lovely, lovely as he has ever been, a blue-eyed boy with a softness in his face and power in the lines of his hands. Chase brushes a curl of hair from his brother's eyes, his fingers drifting over the curves of his face.

“It's my fault,” says JJ.

“Oh, buddy – ”

“No, it is, I mean it, it's all my – it's all my fault.”

“Don't say that, Jays. It's not true.”

“I was supposed to be watching Schneep.”

“You did everything you could.”

“Jackie and Marvin went to protect Jack, and I was supposed to watch Schneep, I was supposed to save Schneep, I was supposed to – ”

JJ collapses onto Chase's shoulder, weeping so hard he can barely breathe. All Chase can do is hold him, hold him close and cry out, “You did everything you could. You did everything you could. It's not your fault you were the last line of defense.”

And this is the truth, but it makes nothing better.

Jameson Jackson did his best. Fought his best. Loved his hardest.

It was only enough to save one.

And he's afraid – afraid to the core of his being, afraid down to his trembling heart – that, soon enough, it will no longer be enough to save Chase either.

“I love you,” says Chase. “And you and I? We're going to find some happiness again, someday, okay? Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. You deserve that much.”

Jameson stares back at him, reaching out to clutch his hands. Slowly, wearily, he lets his watching eyes slip shut, and rests his head on Chase's shoulder.

They sit by the side of the road for a long time. The cicadas are singing in the trees.

***

The stars watch over them.

Or maybe they're just watching.

Chase can never tell anymore. Everything feels like a threat these days.

"On the road again," he hums, bouncing his leg and trying to entertain himself by tapping his fingers against his knee. "Oh, I can't wait to get on the road again!"

He pauses, glancing over at JJ.

"That's not true," he admits, and Jameson looks back at him warmly, giving his fine blue eyes a quick roll made visible by the ugly yellow overhead light they flickered on for comfort in the dark.

There's no one else out here. They take back roads when they can.

"What state are we in?"

Jameson frowns, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully before offering Chase a guilty look of surrender.

"You don't know?"

"Maybe P-E-N - "

"Penis, my favorite state, perfect."

Chase gets a punch in the arm for that one. Worth it.

There's a little more fire in JJ tonight, he thinks. He hopes. Maybe it's because they spent more than they should have on dinner to get little ice cream cones for dessert, or maybe there's just been enough time passed that Jameson's paranoia is settling down, but one way or another, he's hoping to see some joy on his face soon. If he keeps cracking enough dumbass jokes, he can get him to smile, can't he? Surely there's some happiness coming their way at some point, considering that the universe has been well and truly fucking them over for the past four weeks. Surely.

Chase glances around for wood to knock on, but he can't reach the trunks of the heavy forest zipping along past their window. The headlights illuminate a warning sign on the side of the road before them, neon yellow with the black form of a deer printed on its surface, and Chase jerks back as he accidentally meets the gaze of the enormous grey owl sitting atop it.

"These woods are creepy," he complains.

"Sleep," suggests JJ authoritatively, pushing Chase's shoulder.

"Hey, you sleep," Chase grumbles back, pushing his shoulder back. "Maybe we could - oh, shit! Is that a CD case?"

His enthusiasm makes Jamie flinch, but a second later he is watching with interest as his brother rifles hurriedly through the pages of the CD holder, laughing louder with each disc he lays eyes on.

"Al Green - Frank Sinatra - holy shit, both discs for the Order of the Phoenix audiobook. You want to listen to some fucking Harry Potter?"

"No."

"Aw, come on."

"Those were Marvin's favorites!"

There's a pause. Chase stares over at his brother. Jameson stares over at the road, pale with distress.

"Yeah," says Chase eventually. "He was a real nerd for this shit."

He gets punched in the shoulder again, but Jameson's eyes are affectionate. Chase grins and adjusts in his seat, crossing his legs in front of him.

"You remember that time he set the kitchen on fire?" he asks.

Jameson blinks, his mouth twitching. "Which time?"

"Ha ha! The time I was cooking a whole goddamn turkey in the oven and he sent everything up in smoke? Schneep stepped into the house, took one look at all of us screaming and trying to put the fire out, and walked right back out."

Jameson snorts, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. Yeah, he remembers. He remembers laughing.

"But that was also the day Jackie came home so badly hurt," Jameson reminds, drawing his hands away from the wheel just for a second.

"Yeah, well, that one was his fault. He never could resist a fight with a guy twice his size. I don't know if you ever heard this - it was before you were created - but he once got his skull busted open by some asshole with a whole mob of lackeys, woke up in the hospital after four days of being comatose, and went out that same time to get his revenge."

"He did not!"

"Oh, he so did. I think that was the only time Schneep ever followed through on his threat to lock him in his room."

Jameson's mouth twitches. He glances over at Chase with an eyebrow raised and then looks back to the road, sighing a content sigh.

Warmth blooms in Chase's chest like the sunflowers along the side of the road. Then the silence drags on for too long and he decides to take drastic action.

"I'm putting one of these CDs in."

"Don't put one of those CDs in!"

"I'm doing it, you can't stop me, I'm - " Chase yanks Sinatra's top hits out of its case and moves for the CD player. Jameson intercepts, shoving his hand out of the way.

"Those all look terrible! I don't want to listen to any of that!"

"Sinatra!" cries Chase, laughing almost too hard to fight back.

"No!"

"Yes!" With a final, determined gesture, Chase slams the CD into the player and turns the volume up.

Jameson shakes his head at him with faux irritation, his eyes shining warm in the ugly light of the car.

"Some day," sings Sinatra, low and wavering, and Chase lets out a whoop of delight. "When I'm awfully low... when the world is cold... I will feel a glow... "

"Just thinking of you!" Chase sings along at the top of his lungs. Jameson shakes his head, trying not to smile, the corners of his mouth edging upwards. "And the way you look tonight!"

"You're so cheesy," says JJ, glancing to the side as a deer leaps through the trees, startled by the headlights. "Such a dork."

"Hey, you're the dork, dapper man."

"Yes, you're lovely!" cries Sinatra, with passion. "With your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft! There is nothing for me but to love you."

"And the way you look tonight!" Chase finishes, breaking down into giggles.

It's one am in Eastern time and this abandoned back road is taking them towards whatever state it feels like. They're in the middle of nowhere, hiding but together, tired but alive.

That's all that matters.

A smile spreads like a sunrise across Jameson's mouth. Chase hollers his delight, only making Jameson laugh harder, leaving them both shaking in their seats, overwhelmed and full of warmth, loving and united, brothers and- there is a man in the middle of the road -

"Jameson!" screams Chase, and his little brother's hands grab the steering wheel and pull -

***

“Fuck,” whispers Chase, awakening.

Copper-taste sits in his mouth like poison and he coughs, pain racing through his chest and blood dripping down his lip. Confused, he lets out a soft whimper and tries to sit up, but his seatbelt, crushed tight against his chest, does not allow it.

He's grateful for it, too. Without it, he'd be dead for sure.

There is an arm in front of him too.

His little brother's arm, shattered.

“Jameson,” calls Chase, blinking warm blood from his eyes, trying to see in the darkness.

Jamie is a black silhouette beside him, unmoving.

“Jameson!” he cries again, struggling to breathe.

This can't be happening. They can't have survived this much only for a freak accident to take his last brother from him. Please, God, this can't be happening.

He unclips his seatbelt and shifts in his seat, crumpling against the dashboard and splitting blood onto its grey plastic surface. Through the shadows, he makes out the figure of the ancient tree currenly mashing faces with their stolen car.

They swerved off the road, into the forest. They are miles from civilization. They have no phones. Phones are unsafe. Anti, after all, utilizes internet signals and electricity the same way cowboys utilized horses.

Chase reaches out to touch Jameson's shoulder. Fumbling beside the steering wheel, his fingers find the light switch, yanking it up, and, to his enormous relief, one of the headlights resumes its duties, illuminating the creaking forest all around them. Something scurries away through the bushes.

Jameson is slicked in blood. He rests against the red glass-stained window of the driver's seat, as still and as white as the bones of a deer.

No, this wasn't an accident.

This was someone's fault.

“Hey, asshole,” howls Chase, tumbling out of the side of the car. His fingers dig into earth and twig and worm in the damp floor of the forest. “You've hurt my little brother! Come down here and help us! Why the fuck were you standing in the middle of the road?”

He remembers vaguely the dark shadow of the man, a cold form dressed all in black, with a hood drawn over its head, but he cannot see it now, cannot even make his eyes focus on the road.

“With each word, your tenderness grows...”

Chase startles, staring back at the car. He realizes, at the intersection of confusion and abject terror, that the CD player has just turned itself back on again.

He is a stiffened stag on the side of the road, unable to move, unable to breathe.

“Jameson,” he whispers, and turns away from the figure on the road. He takes it all back. He does not want the man to come down here. He does not want his help.

He crawls to Jameson's side, vomiting blood and his last meal as he drags himself towards his little brother and staggers to his feet, grabbing at the seatbelt that holds him in place.

“Tearing my fear apart,” sings Sinatra, growing louder. “And that laugh wrinkles your foolish heart... Lovely, never ever change...”

And then Chase sees the black-hooded figure of the man, standing close, beside the tree that connected with their car. His jeans are ripped and there, on his breast, a mockery – the letters “PMA” scrawled out in angular font.

“Jameson,” begs Chase, yanking desperately at the seatbelt, unable to get it loose. He scrambles to find a pulse in his neck instead, but his shaking fingers give him no hopeful reply.

“Keep that breathless charm! Won't you please arrange it?”

The CD display glitches.

Chase screams aloud, biting at the seatbelt, choking on the outcry of his broken ribs, hunted down at last, found at last, discovered and destroyed, alone. Finally, he manages to yank loose the seatbelt, but it means nothing. Reaching out to drag him away, he sees that Jameson's legs are crushed by the indent in the car, trapping him better than if he were chained.

Whimpering and gripping at his hair, Chase falls back. Anti is closer now, close enough to touch him, standing still by the engine of the car. His blue and brown eyes are like those of a cat's in the darkness, and Jameson is the rabbit he has caught.

And Chase understands that he cannot save his little brother.

But he could save himself.

“Go on, Chase Brody,” whispers Anti. “Try to run.”

His voice does not glitch. His body does not spasm. This is his victory, and in it not a single flaw is visible or spoken aloud. He has the perfect corpse to contain him.

“Please,” whispers Chase, touching Jameson's hand. “Please.”

“Don't beg after you've put up a fight for the first time in your life,” purrs Anti. His brown eye brightens slowly to green, glowing through the darkness. His hands are stuffed in Jack's hoodie pockets. “The two of you actually managed to evade me for quite some time. Don't you want to get away, Chase?”

He intones the name with a deep sarcasm, grinning around the ironic sound of it.

“I'll even let you run,” he promises. “I've started to enjoy this most dangerous game, hunting the two of you down across the country. You even slipped my vision once or twice. If you run now, I'll give you a two-day headstart, how does that sound? You might even be able to escape me.”

Chase's ribs are broken, but with adrenaline coursing through him, he thinks he could run, or at least stagger back to the highway and wait for help to come. He's got two hundred and forty dollars worth of cash shoved into his pockets, enough to keep him eating for a few days. He could hot wire another car. Escape the hospital before they could bill him. He could live.

“No. No. Not without him.”

Lost and desperate, terrified and resigned, he gives up the idea of escape and does the only thing he can think of – he crawls into the seat beside Jameson, wraps his body around him, and tries to protect his body from Anti.

Jameson is motionless beneath his hands. His face is split into sections of blood and protruding bone. Chase looks down at him and begins to howl, despair exploding through the cheap dam of optimism that has kept him alive for the past four months. Jameson only bleeds in reply.

“If you're going to kill us,” whispers Chase. “Then kill us.”

The stars are watching. Deer creep through the trees, wary and glorious, their eyes shining in the dying glow of the headlight. Here under the trees of the forest, Chase has found his ending.

He's ready to see his brothers. Ready to see Jameson happy and the others unharmed.

He closes his eyes and pictures their smiles, warmer than sunlight, lovely and golden, filling the land of salvation like milk and honey.

They are beautiful and wonderful and joyous, and he sees them now before him.

“Cause I love you!” sings Sinatra, and Anti strides forward, pulling the hood back from Jack's face. “Just the way you look tonight.”

#chase brody #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #writers of jack #jse egos #sorry i can't get the 'keep reading' to work!!!!#it's really annoying #long post #bee writes #tw vomit #tw car crash #tw blood #tw character death

84 notes · View notes

chain-unchained · 5 years

Text

July 1

With the scent of freshly sanded down and finished wood still filling his nose, Ashe traipsed cheerily down the road south of the farm towards Marnie’s ranch; he’d finally managed to get a pretty decent chicken coop built, thanks to Robin’s expert help, and he was ready to fill it with cute clucky little hens. It was a milestone that, to him, marked his evolution from just a simple farmer to a proper rancher, and he was already thinking ahead to how much lumber he’d need to get together to get a barn built. Chickens came first, though.

It was just a little past 9:30 by the time he reached the ranch; he always felt just a little bad about showing up so soon after the shop opened, even though that was kind of the point of hours of operation. “Good morning.” He greeted with a happy smile, pushing the heavy door open and stepping inside.

“Oh, good morning Ashe.” Marnie looked up from her knitting and stifled a yawn, still trying to get through her first cup of coffee. “You’re looking bright and chipper as ever. What are you up to today?”

“Well—”

Before Ashe could tell her, the pitter-patter of Jas’ feet announced her arrival, and he could feel several light tugs on the hem of his shorts. “Mr. Ashe, Mr. Ashe.” The little girl said, bouncing up and down a little to try and get his attention. “Shane wants you to come see something.”

“Eh?” Ashe blinked several times in surprise, as an impatient and clearly excited Jas took hold of his hand and pulled him along towards the kitchen. “Whoa—okay okay, I’m coming.” He could hear Marnie’s laughter as Jas all but dragged him down the hall, through the kitchen and towards a door nestled in the back corner of the space. Ashe didn’t even know the door was there, though to be fair he’d only seen the kitchen a small handful of times on his way to Shane’s room. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“The coop, silly.” Jas had a bit of trouble turning the doorknob with just one hand, her other hand still firmly grasping Ashe’s so he couldn’t get away. She managed, though, pushing the door open and leading the puzzled farmer outside.

The coop she had mentioned wasn’t the one where the poultry that Marnie raised to be sold were kept; instead, it was a relatively new addition, one that Shane and Jas had both been working on together. It was their special project, and part of Shane’s crowning achievement, filled to the brim with happy, plucky hens going about their breakfast without a care in the world.

There was one chicken that stood out from the rest, and that was Charlie, Shane’s favorite little hen who was currently sitting on the back of a sweet-faced brown heifer who fancied herself more of a hen than a cow. It was as if she was watching Shane, who was carefully painting a sign resting up against the wall—using a brilliant red paint, he had painstakingly lettered the sign to read ‘FRESH EGGS’.

“That should do it…” He said to himself as he painted the last S onto the sign. Setting the brush across the opening of the paint can, he scooted back to get a good look at the whole sign, feeling pretty proud of himself. It was definitely weird for him, to have things to be proud over, but it was something he could get used to. It wasn’t just the sign, of course; his recovery, his depression, his work here on the ranch, his efforts to be a better godfather to Jas and just a better person in general—all of this gave him the sort of pride that he hadn’t felt in years, decades even. “What do you think, Charlie?”

Looking to the chicken as he spoke, he watched as Charlie cocked her head to the side, ruffling her feathers and shaking her wings a little as she seemed to study it, before delivering a verdict in a gentle coo. “Atta girl, I knew you’d like it.” Yoba, there was no understating how much he fucking loved chickens, especially that chicken. He got to his feet and stretched, his joints popping a little from being hunched over to paint the sign, and reached out to stroke Charlie’s head affectionately. “Yeah, this is the perfect home for you hens. We’re gonna have the best eggs in the whole damn valley. Fresh and healthy, with rich golden yolks. Not like those pale, sickly Joja eggs…”

Charlie coo’d again, voicing her agreement as she pushed her head against Shane’s hand. He looked out at the rest of the animals around them, his smile widening as he beheld his crowning achievements—his special blue chickens that he had worked so hard on breeding. There were only a few of them at the moment, and they were too young to lay eggs of their own, but soon enough farmers like Ashe would be able to own a blue chicken or two of their own. “….”

For a moment, Shane was quiet, his hand coming to a stop atop Charlie’s head; a second passed, and he sighed, carefully lifting Charlie from the cow’s back to hold her close. “You know, Charlie… I was thinking… A guy like me is always teetering on the edge of despair… know what I mean?” He murmured, lightly scratching Charlie’s chest where he knew she had trouble getting at herself. “But you and the other hens are going to keep me upright from now on… I know it.” After a pause, he added, “And that nosy bugaboo will too, huh? He makes it impossible to have a bad day no matter how hard I try.” He hugged Charlie closer and tucked her under his chin with another sigh. “It’s like he manages to chase the storm clouds away… Hey, Charlie? Do you think… you think a guy like me could ever have a shot with someone like him?”

His question was answered with a swift peck to his index finger. “Ow—hey, what was that for?!” Shane looked down at the hen in shock. “That’s—you’ve never pecked me before. What’s gotten into you, girl?”

Charlie just coo’d again, ruffling her feathers back into place as she settled her beady eyes on him; her behavior was just so matter-of-fact that, just for a moment, Shane felt like she’d actually given him an intelligent answer. “… Sssoo, was that a yes or a no then?”

The door from the kitchen opened, cutting their conversation short as Jas led the still curious Ashe inside. “Oh, hey Ashe.” Shane greeted, glad that neither of them had heard him ask that question to Charlie. He set the hen back on the cow and turned to face his friend with a huge smile. “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think?” This time it was Ashe who cocked his head to the side; it took him a second to think to look around, his eyes widening in surprise as he laid them on the little blue hens that were running around. “Ah—oh my Yoba, they’re so cute~!! Aaaaah, they’re so BLUE!”

Shane and Jas busted out laughing as Ashe crouched down, looking as though he’d literally just stumbled onto a vault of riches; seemingly sensing his kind heart, the chickens all flocked to him, each one attempting to get some affection from the enchanted youth.

“My special blue hens.” Shane explained, his grin widening as Ashe cuddled each and every one in turn; animals were probably the best judges for people, so to see his hens practically smitten with his friend just cemented to him what a good guy he was. “I’ve been raising them in secret for the last few months. I… well, I won’t be living here forever,” he rested his hand atop Jas’ head and lightly ruffled her hair, “and I wanted to pass something on to Jas. I’ve been teaching her how to care for them.”

Jas nodded in affirmation, planting her hands firmly on her hips and puffing her chest out proudly. It had been her job to get up in the mornings and feed them, and she hadn’t been late a single time yet.

Chuckling at the confident pose his goddaughter had struck, Shane continued, “I want to feel like I’m not just a leech on the world. I want to contribute somehow, even in a small way like this…” He glanced at the watch strapped around his wrist and whistled. “Whoops—you’d better skidaddle, Jas, or you’ll keep Penny and Vincent waiting. Thanks for helping out this morning.”

“You’re welcome~” Jas jumped to give him a tight hug. “Bye Shane, bye Mr. Ashe~”

“Have fun, Jas~” Ashe managed to wave to her as she traipsed off, still completely swarmed by happy little hens. “This is really incredible, Shane. I’ve never seen such happy looking chickens.”

“Heh, thanks.” Hearing that praise coming from Ashe felt all the better. “So, what brought you by today? Just swinging by to say hello like usual?”

“Oh!” In all the excitement, Ashe had completely forgotten the reason behind his early visit; hastily, but carefully, he moved the hens off of himself and scooted around to look at Shane. “Actually, I was hoping you could teach me about having hens. I finally got a coop built and I want to start raising them.”

“Oh, that so?” Shane rubbed his stubbled chin in thought. “You looking for just the basics or an in-depth lesson?”

“In-depth, of course.”

“Hoo boy… Alright, this might take awhile.” Shane plonked himself down beside Ashe and rubbed his hands together. He was going to make damn sure that Ashe would be well-prepared to care for his beloved poultry.

#sdv #sdv shane #sdv farmer #sdv fanfic #sdv fanfiction #stardew shane #stardew #stardew valley #stardew valley shane #stardew valley farmer #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

yeshawrites · 5 years

Text

AGENCY, CHAPTER 2. You can find all other works of mine here. NOTES: This story is not always friendly. It contains some graphic content, brief mentions of non-sexual nudity, murder, death, and plenty of language. Please be advised before you read it.

February. Fifteen years later.

He didn’t have much to load into the passenger van. Honestly, the transport felt like a waste. Someone could have picked him up in a sedan and no doubt the trunk would have room to spare after his meager duffle bag was packed in. All he had to his name were his clothes. They’d assured him that the Agency would set him up with firearms of his own, and just the idea of getting his stash through TSA gave him hives, so he’d just liquidated them.

For a fleeting moment Anthony reconsidered his choices. He wasn’t there yet. He didn’t have to do this. Once he saw the Agency itself, he knew it was too little, too late, but until then… He clenched tight on the bag strap and wondered if he could just sling it over his shoulder and jog back into the airport, hitch the next flight back to Oklahoma and forget this whole death sentence.

The Watcher in the front seat stared back at him.

“Sorry.” He tossed the bag into the van a little too hard. It echoed hollowly. “Coming.”

Their ride was long and silent. His companion didn’t even turn on the radio. Instead Anthony busied himself by watching the curving ridges of Virginia roll past the window, every slope and dip the new stage of an uncertain world.

Forty minutes later they rolled into a large, sprawling shopping center. WESTCHESTER COMMONS read a bright sign at the entrance. Commons to what? He looked further down the road and saw it disappear into a country lane, the all other exits dipping off onto the highway. A large movie theatre, a few craft stores, a dance studio, and a few fast food restaurants (Taco Bell, Chik-Fil-A, Five Guys) surrounded a pretty grass lawn that was meant to be a gathering place.

But the rest of it? The whole southern half of the complex was nigh on empty. Only a ski store (in Virginia?), a gym, and a Buffalo Wild Wings occupied the vast swath of blank storefronts. An entire section had boards stacked over the front windows, a Christmas mural two months overdue for a change painted cheerily over its warped surface. Just as he was wondering who in their right mind thought that was a good idea, the passenger van idled along the back of it.

Oh.

The Watcher punched a button on the dash and part of the building shuddered. A garage door cleverly concealed by siding and a few crates rolled up. Was this it? Anthony checked his expectations. A secretive government group called the Agency--and it lived in a strip mall that couldn’t quite fill its vendor slots?

They rolled inside and he adjusted his opinion again. The garage was clean, with a few black SUVs, sedans, and equipment vans lined up by model. A black Tesla perched in the far corner by a charging station, a tidy mechanic’s workspace not far from there. The Watcher parked, so Anthony hopped out and grabbed his stuff from the back.

“This way,” his escort said.

“You can talk,” Anthony said aloud, realizing in the same breath how rude that sounded. “Sorry. Just wasn’t sure for a bit here, y’know?”

The Watcher looked bemused and said nothing once more. Before they could make any headway, a door out of the garage swung open.

“Smith!”

“Chief Piotrowsky.” The Watcher--Smith, apparently--delved his hand into his pockets and produced a phone. “Just sign, would you?”

Chief Piotrowsky was a handsome man with shoulder-length dark hair, narrow, dark eyes, and black nails. Anthony watched them shine as he signed with his finger on the screen. “Feels like I’m signing for a package. This is a bit inappropriate for people, isn’t it? When you all sent me Barry, he had a good laugh about that one later.”

“They are packages in a way.”

Piotrowsky frowned uncomfortably and shook his head. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Smith. Tell them back at the Rock I said ‘Hi’.”

Anthony lingered in the shadows, uncertain of what to do. At long last, the Chief turned his dark gaze on him.

“Hey there. Nice to meet you. Antonio Martin?”

“Just Anthony, Sir,” he managed, offering his hand. “Nice to put a face to the voice.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s been a bit since we talked. I was almost worried you wouldn’t take my offer.” The Chief smiled and appraised him up and down. “Sorry, I almost didn’t believe the dossier. Looks like they were right about you.”

“Thanks for not saying ‘how’s the weather up there?’ or something like that.” Anthony managed a nervous grin. “But I can tell you it’s hell to find pants that fit quite right.”

“Well, that’s true. I’ll have to get our guys to source for your uniform. You’ll have to give me your inseam later. Six-foot-six, yeah?”

“Yessir.”

“Please, it’s Xi. Just Xi. Want the tour?”

It wasn’t like he could refuse. “That’d be awful kind of you.”

The hallways were narrow and labyrinthine. Somehow he’d expected cubicles and halogen lighting, tired interns and forever-empty coffee pots--at least from his experience with the county lockup and courthouses. The walls were a soft copper-brown, white baseboards and chair railing running throughout.

“Welcome to your new home.” Xi rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it alright. I wish I could say you’d get to spend more time outside than you will, but we mostly don’t, given the nature of the job. It’s imperative that people don’t locate us too easily, so there isn’t a lot of coming and going from the base unless it’s for patrol or missions. Fortunately, mostly everything we need is inside here. I’ll take you to your room first. Besides, I’m sure the others will want to meet you.”

Anthony craned his neck to look as they passed open door after open door. A small doctor’s office and what looked like a forensics table, a kitchen, a gym--Xi walked quickly, so he only caught glimpses. A woman hunched over a row of computers in another. Somewhere down the hall came the soft sound of laughter.

“Oh no.” Xi huffed a chuckle. “What in God’s name is she up to?”

They reached the end of the hall, a final door awaiting them. Xi rapped several times with his knuckles and pushed it open, revealing a small common room. A few couches cluttered around a tiny coffee table, all facing a TV with a couple of old gaming consoles. Around the perimeter were other, smaller doors to what looked like bedrooms. Light streamed down through a skylight, augmented by the chunky white Christmas lights strung around the ceiling.

And a short woman was shirtless on the table.

A woman with a brown mohawk whooped and flung jolly ranchers at the other woman’s chest. At the table, a dark skinned man with tight-cut ringlets of hair tried to hide his smile and just buried his face in his hands, another very unenthused older man staring up at her.

“Come on, Desch!” The woman on the table shimmied and got another peal of laughter from the other two. “Give a lady a smile or something!”

“Aishe,” Xi snapped. “God, please get off the table.”

Mercifully she was wearing a bra, because she spun around to face the newcomer with a shameless grin on her lips. Out of respect, Anthony lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Oop, Bossman here to take us down.” The dark man shot up to his feet. “I swear this was a legitimate operation, Sir. We’ve got permits.”

“Yeah!” Aishe laughed aloud before tempering her smirk. “We have permits. I’m a professional. I was just trying to get a smile out of Desch. Thought I might just, you know, do a little dance…”

“Aishe?” Xi groaned. “Your shirt. Please.”

She flung on a tank top and finally Anthony felt free to look her over. She was very short--maybe not even five feet tall--with long, bleached blonde hair and black, thick eyebrows framing golden eyes. Her lips were full and her body--well, he tried not to notice that too much. She had curves to rival the state. Her nose was the only straight thing on her; a sharp, angular line that only served to make every other swirl and dip of her more fascinating in contrast. A tiger’s eye stud glimmered from her eyebrow and a gold one from her nose and a third just under her lip, her ears rimmed with hoops and studs in a thousand patterns.

Anthony wondered if love at first sight was really as far fetched as he’d thought.

“We’ve got a newcomer.” Xi seemed to age a thousand years in the fifteen seconds they’d all been together. “Anthony is going to take the new slot.”

“Oh?” And Aishe flashed him a grin. “Charmed. I’m Aishe. Can you give good piggyback rides, or is all that height just for looks?”

“Aishe,” Xi groaned.

“Err, I haven’t done that in a bit, but I expect I’ll be put through my paces then, ma’am.”

“That wasn’t a no.” She looked triumphantly back at the others. “It’s possible.”

Xi pushed onward, motioning back at the others one at a time. “That’s Barry back there. Desch is the most senior Agent, so he’s an excellent resource. And Verna--”

If Aishe was a handful, it looked like Verna--the woman with the mohawk--might be too. She practically appeared in his face, poking and prodding at him. “Hey, you ain’t a slab of nothin’ and sinew like I got Barry in.”

Barry--the darker man in the back--stared off into the distance like he was seeing a battlefield. “Lucky him. You don’t have to go through the notorious Verna Welcome Warmup then.”

“I’d hope a big boy like him has a little swing in his fists.” Aishe grinned brightly, running her tongue over the ridge of her lip. “Where are you from?”

“Oklahoma. The Agency poached me from Colorado, though.”

“Well damn. You’re good, one hundred percent pure American beef, huh?”

Barry snorted so hard he doubled over, hiding his face even as Aishe grinned at her own joke. Xi sighed and adjusted her shirt to hide her bra straps.

“Will you please show him the run of the place and not scare him off?”

“Yeah, Dad. Don’t worry.” She swatted off his hands and stuck out her tongue at him. “I’ll get him set up nice. You got an appointment with the Rock or something?”

“No. Joshua.”

Every face in the room either grimaced, groaned, or rolled their eyes. Aishe pinned her mouth together to suppress what Anthony now suspected was a trademark grin. “Well you have fun with that! Let me know what else we’re doing wrong now. Figures we got the worst Watcher in the whole damn Agency.”

Xi didn’t answer that, but his face told a story of its own. “Behave. I’ll be back later.”

“Gotcha, gotcha.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving him alone with the others. Desch returned to whatever he was reading, but three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him.

“So.” Aishe grinned cheekily. “Why’re you in?”

“Huh?” Anthony almost laughed. The flashback to the county lockup was uncanny.

“What’d you do? What almost got you?” Verna bent over a chair, stretching out her hamstrings. “You’ve gotta tangle with something supernatural to get recruited into the Agency. What was yours? I punched out someone that was stalking a friend of mine.”

“Said ‘someone’ was a vampire.” Aishe laughed. “The Rock said they’d never heard of anyone doing that and living before.”

Barry grimaced. “Mine was a doppelganger.”

Anthony nodded and pointed back at the other man. “Same here.”

“Oh shit.” Verna pumped her fist enthusiastically. “These stories are always the trippiest. How’d yours go?”

“Err…” Anthony shuffled the bag off his shoulder and let it onto the ground. “Short version? It jumped my brothers and me. Got the best of them, didn’t manage to get me. Got charged with their deaths.”

“Yeah.” Barry nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, that’s how that one works usually. Usually it’s the Agency that gets people cleared from those ones.”

“Yeah, if Mr. Xi hadn’t gone and gotten me sprung, I’m pretty sure the prosecutor would’a hung me out to dry for murder.”

Aishe said nothing. She just tilted back her head and appraised him with those golden eyes, a half-smile on her face that concealed her every thought. For a moment Anthony wondered if she could see straight through him, through the layers of the button-up shirt and to his tattoos, straight down onto the pores of his skin where all the worst of him lived so close to the surface. But almost as soon as he saw it, her eyes brightened and crinkled again, that permanent laugh bubbling up to her throat.

“Well,” she said, offering him a hand. “I can show you your room. Then I can show you where you’re gonna get the weapons to take some doppelgangers out again. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

---

Joshua had never really cared for camping. The only time he’d ever really gone was probably thirty years ago; as best as he could recall it had rained the whole time. His older brother swore they’d all gotten terribly feverish and sick from a combination of the weather and his father’s poor attempts at cooking, a story his father had gone to his grave insisting wasn’t true. Joshua had to admit it sounded very plausible, considering their father. He sighed and pulled his black coat tighter around him, muffling the jostle of bullets. All misgivings about camping aside, the Shenandoah was still pretty. The trees were just now recovering from the winter and tiny buds of green poked their hopeful heads from long branches. The water was clear and the current strong in the river he kept meeting; it glowed crystalline and threw sparkles across the stripped trees, flecks of color across white and grey bark. Sunlight pooled in the flat rocks, and if you sat still for long enough schools of tiny white fish would scurry around the shallows in search of food. The deer were bold here. Already he’d come within arm’s reach of a doe. In his mind he’d named it Eighty-Three, after the bright yellow tags in her ears. It was magical enough to make him not hate camping as much. But he hated long drives, too, and the drive had been nearly four hours of blistering silence and intermittent arguing between Desch and Christiane in the way only those two could argue, and he crossed a trip back out in his mental ledger of potential family vacations. A stick scraped Joshua’s bald head. He swerved and scowled at it, taking another step down the hill. The trail was very steep and only growing steeper. He wondered just how long it would take until he caught up with his quarry. He fiddled with the earpiece he wore. “Any sight?” “Negateef.” Christiane’s French accent was too strong for his taste. She was good at her job, but Joshua wished her partner would talk instead. “Not’ing yet.” “This trail is getting steep. I might need help bringing it back up.” “We will assist, mais w--” Christiane fell silent. Joshua halted, an instinct born of ages of special training. “Feefty yards.” That was all Joshua needed to hear. He delved into his fleece pocket for the Beretta and peered cautiously down the hillside thick with bramble and dead leaves. Sure enough, a lone figure in what looked like a grey flannel, shaggy blonde hair, and hiking gear moseyed his lonely way toward the falls. Joshua crouched out of sight. “You guys his set up?”

Christiane opened the link; he heard the beginning of a derisive snort and it went dead again. Probably Desch. At long last she replied. “Yes. Eyes on you.” Joshua clicked off the mic and peered over the ledge again. The hiker had nearly reached the falls; the roar of the water would be enough. He seized the opportunity and launched himself down the path, hurtling through brush and trees and barely keeping his balance over logs supposed to serve as stepsohSHIT. His foot caught the edge of a fallen stick. He felt the fall before it even began and threw his whole body into it, rolling across his shoulder and back onto his feet, but it was too late. The hiker turned, blue eyes wide, staring at the middle aged black man picking himself back up from the leafy path. “Freeze!” Joshua yelled, training the Beretta on the hiker. Naturally, the target ran. Joshua squeezed off three shots before running after his quarry, chilly air whipping across his bald head. Christiane was yelling something in his ear, but the damn accent made it near impossible to understand her and he just kept going. Down, down the path they ran, across stumbling blocks of rocks and leaves. The hiker was fast, but Joshua had training and a couple years of college track under his belt. He lowered his shoulders and launched himself from the high ground, catching the kid around his waist and dragging him down; as one they rolled down the path, their descent stopped only by slamming into a boulder. Pain. There were fingers around his neck now, wild blue eyes like cold fire, a hateful sneer born of desperation and rage boring into his; Joshua tried to put his feet between himself and his attacker but the hands stayed, far too long and strong to be normal, the air throttled in his throat and his lungs burning and stars sparking in his vision. Joshua gathered up the last of his strength and bellowed in the hiker’s face. He flinched just enough and Joshua grabbed a handful of the blonde hair, wrenching him down onto the pathway-- BANG The shot rang clear and true into the hiker’s back; Joshua covered his face just in time to shield himself from the shower of blood. “Zere. Are you okay?” “Just fine,” Joshua grunted, gasping for breath. He worked his way down towards the body and flipped it over with his foot just in time to see the pale face ripple and shift. He’d heard of this before, but never seen it in practice. He watched with sick fascination as the clothes shuddered and grew loose, the backpack straps sliding from its shoulders, boots falling off feet that no longer existed. The kid’s expression warped like the ocean tide, morphing and twisting until an eerie gray blank took its place, eyes sinking into nothing, the nose flattening, cheekbones dissolving until the only thing staring back at him was mirrored reflection of his own face. It was a grisly reminder that it could have been him, lying dead in a ditch, this thing masquerading to his wife, to his sons, slipping into his clothes as easily as he did-- “Ees eet ze doppelganger?” Hands shaking, Joshua touched his mic. “Yeah. This is it.”

“Well, more zan zat.” Christiane paused. “Our sensors are glowing purple.”

#Agency #my writing #original work #writeblr #2.#Christiane #Anthony #Verna #Joshua #Xi #Aishe #Barry #Desch

5 notes · View notes

bronzeflower · 5 years

Text

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 21: The Rappest Conversation

Also on ao3

It was your self-imposed day off, so you started the day by sleeping until afternoon. After making yourself breakfast and eating it, you played Slime Rancher for about two hours because it was a nice relaxing game that Roxy bought you for Gristmas last year.

Everything was peaceful. Nothing could possibly ruin this.

Oh look. John was pestering you. You hadn't talked to him in while, even though he was your best bro. You guessed both of you have been pretty busy lately.

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

EB: hey, dave! EB: we haven’t spoken in ages!

TG: yeah man its been entirely too long TG: ive turned to dust while you were gone TG: ive become one with the desert and sand TG: im the sand on the beach that gets stuck inside an oyster TG: and the oyster is like what the hell are you doing here you dumbass motherfucking sand TG: im here to ruin your life oyster TG: thats basically my job TG: why are you doing this you tiny bit of sand TG: i already answered that question TG: okay fine be that way says the oyster TG: ill just turn you into a pearl so that youre no longer stabbing me everywhere TG: and then i was transformed into a dope ass pearl TG: the prettiest goddamn pearl in all the land TG: im turned into one of a pair of earrings that are sold for more that your life is worth TG: im bought by a rich woman looking for jewelry to show off TG: its passed down through the generations until the wealth they had dwindles and runs out TG: so now the earrings are sold for a dollar just to get the money for food that night TG: its a tragic tale TG: anyway TG: how are you doing

EB: dave, did you copy and paste an entire act of a play into this chat?

TG: what no TG: it is all natural and organic typing from scratch going on here TG: absolutely no foul play involved and to even imply such is an insult to my craft

EB: alright, fine! EB: i will not insult your “masterpiece” anymore. EB: if you can even call it that.

TG: oh wow sick burn TG: but like seriously speaking how is your stuff going TG: like the comedy stuff TG: have you yet to release an hour long special containing your hilarious jokes TG: and like half of the time is taken up by people laughing at them so its not even a true hour long special its more like a half hour long special and you didnt even manage to make it through all the material you had prepared TG: you know like you did in school where you accidentally prepared too much for a presentation and then get cut off because your time is up TG: and you still have like an hour and half left of material that youve collected that ended up just being a pile of wasted effort

EB: maybe not to that extreme. EB: :P EB: i haven't gotten my show up on netflix yet, but i am certainly planning on it! EB: watch out for it!

TG: do you still have that one person booing you at a bunch of your shows

EB: yeah, it is getting pretty annoying at this point, but i don't really want to do something like call security to remove someone for booing at my show. EB: that just seems as little bit over kill.

TG: i thought you were going to do a comedy sketch about them

EB: oh yeah! EB: i forgot about that.

TG: who are you jade harley

EB: what! EB: jade is great at remembering things!

TG: shes really not she just has a really fucking good system for making certain she remembers things TG: she has to build a physical barrier to her door so that she doesnt forget her keys TG: and she has so many keys to her house they are literally everywhere

EB: huh. EB: i guess i havent really visited jade in a while, have i?

TG: i would highly recommend going to her place at some point TG: and just hanging out with her in general TG: although youd probably have to plan a whole trip for it TG: just like TG: drop by or whatever next time youre where shes currently living

EB: messaging her might be a little bit more practical.

TG: yeah probably TG: anyway you really should get on writing that sketch about the lady I booing you

EB: yeah probably.

TG: yeah man how else are you going to get back at her TG: also when you finally do perform it please tell me what happened TG: or send me a recording of it TG: jk ill buy the recording TG: i always buy the recordings of your shows TG: but youll have to tell me which recording its in so that i can prepare myself

EB: maybe i won’t tell you which recording it’s in just so you're surprised by it. EB: like a schrodinger’s recording.

TG: does that mean you might be dead in one of them

EB: i hate to tell you this now dave, but i’m actually a ghost.

TG: shit ive been friends with a ghost this whole time thats actually pretty fucking dope TG: how do you do comedy sketches as a ghost TG: with the whole intangible thing TG: also with the people not being able to see you thing TG: wait TG: i wouldnt be able to message you if you were completely intangible TG: you must be a poltergeist or something TG: is there anything i can do to help you pass on

EB: yeah, you have to burn my body. EB: that’s what they do in all of the supernatural movies and shows where there’s a ghost.

TG: alright i am fully prepared to do that TG: i however have absolutely no idea where your grave is

EB: i know where your grave is.

TG: well thats not ominous at all TG: i dont even have a grave

EB: as far as you know.

TG: are you telling me that im dead TG: am i also a ghost

EB: i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner! EB: but yes we’re both ghosts. EB: i was supposed to wait for you to figure it out yourself, but it’s taking so long, so i guess i got a little impatient. EB: :B

TG: yeah but i still dont remember anything about dying or anything like that

EB: maybe you'll remember someday. EB: i’ve got to go right about now though. EB: i compromised my mission, and now i have to go through remedial training.

TG: ill wish you luck

EB: who needs luck when you have skill?

TG: okay then no good luck from me TG: i take it back TG: youve got this handled due to the sheer amount of awesomeness you have

-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TG: oh no they got you TG: i know i said i didnt wish you good luck but i actually did TG: you cant give back a good luck TG: you can never give back a good luck TG: the blessing is yours now forever and ever TG: or however long you live i guess TG: thats going to take a butt load of time TG: anyway TG: i should probably get going too TG: instead of just having a conversation by myself after you left TG: and like go and have a conversation with someone else TG: maybe with jade TG: i havent talked to jade in a while TG: wonder how her pumpkins are doing TG: i wonder if shes harvested them yet TG: or if its even time for that TG: i swear i do actually listen when she talks about gardening TG: but i dont remember what half the harvest times for a bunch of the vegetables she grows TG: dont tell her that TG: or do TG: she probably already knows TG: shes always had a tendency to know things that other people would have absolutely no clue of knowing about TG: anyway TG: ill pester you again at some point eventually TG: ill go pester jade instead now TG: see ya

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: yo jade how are your pumpkins doing TG: is it about time to harvest them or anything TG: or has that already happened TG: when do people harvest pumpkins again

GG: ive harvested them!

TG: awesome were they tasty

GG: of course they were!!! GG: i made pumpkin pie and roasted pumpkin seeds GG: and then i sold all the leftover pumpkins

TG: yeah what kind of profit did that turn

GG: quite a bit, actually! GG: especially with the fact that pumpkins are basically weeds GG: because they grow back no matter what you do GG: no GG: matter GG: what GG: but people fucking love pumpkins during the fall seasons

TG: yeah everyone goes batshit for that kind of stuff TG: got that pumpkin spice everywhere TG: and colorful trees and sweater weather TG: unless you live in the south TG: then there are just two seasons TG: summer and cooler summer

GG: those were basically the seasons on the island i grew up on too GG: im so glad i get to see snow where i live now!!! GG: i always wanted to play in it growing up!!!

TG: tbh we should coordinate and try to play in the snow together at some point

GG: yes!!! GG: but, no GG: :( GG: itd be way too difficult to coordinate that kind of thing

TG: yeah probably TG: but maybe one day if we happened to be in the same area and it happened to snow TG: we could get together and play in the snow and build snowpeople and snow angles

GG: dont you mean snow angels?

TG: i meant what i said TG: were gonna be drawing angles in the snow TG: forty five degrees sixty degrees one hundred and eighty degrees TG: well have all the angles right there written in the snow because no one can tell us what to do

GG: i still think id rather make snow angels though

TG: fair enough TG: you stick with your boring old snow angels TG: and ill have a fantastic time making all my fucking snow angles

GG: :/ GG: you do that, i guess GG: i still think making snow angels will be more fun!

TG: suit yourself TG: anyway im being messaged by someone else so ive gotta bounce

GG: alrighty, see ya!

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

GC: D4V3

TG: terezi

GC: H4V3 YOU S33N TH1S?? GC: F1L3.COM

TG: well it would seem that im being framed for murder and no one told me

GC: NO GC: 1N C4S3 TH4T H4PP3N3D 1 WOULD S3RV3 4S YOUR PROS3CUT3R

TG: wouldnt you be unable to participate in the trial because you have a bias because were friends

GC: Y3S BUT TH4T 1S B3S1D3 TH3 PO1NT GC: W41T GC: 1S 1T B3S1D3 THE PO1NT OR B3S1D3S TH3 PO1NT??

TG: no idea TG: does it matter

GC: 1 GU3SS NOT GC: JUST LOOK 4T TH3 GODD4MN M3M3

TG: nice

GC: H3H3H3H3H3H3

-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

CG: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

TG: so what stuck itself up your ass

CG: DID TEREZI SEND YOU THAT MEME?

TG: what meme i have no idea what meme your talking about

TG: i dont even know what a meme is TG: you could hear me say that but i pronounced meme as me me TG: because thats how little i know about memes TG: ive never even seen one in my life TG: you dont have any proof that tz showed me the meme that you are talking about like less than five minutes ago about the ten page rant that you sent to complain about my channel

CG: THAT’S REALLY SPECIFIC, AND IT MAKES ME SUSPICIOUS AND PRIVY TO THE IDEA THAT YOU ACTUALLY DO KNOW WHAT A MEME IS.

TG: please spare me i have a family

CG: I WASN’T AWARE THAT YOU HAD KIDS.

TG: youre right i dont have kids TG: not in reality TG: imaginary kids TG: all running around and being great and fantastic and not fucked up at all TG: thats the fucking dream

CG: DAVE, WE’RE NOT HERE TO DISCUSS YOUR INSECURITIES DEALING WITH THE POSSIBILITY OF HAVING KIDS OR WORKING WITH KIDS. CG: WE’RE HERE TO TALK ABOUT THE MEME TEREZI SENT YOU.

TG: why do you even care so much about a meme TG: its a meme and its harmless fun TG: even if it does include a picture of you topless

CG: EXACTLY. CG: I’M GOING TO NEED YOU TO DELETE ANY EVIDENCE OF THAT PICTURE, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO KEEP IT.

TG: why would i want to keep it TG: maybe i already deleted it TG: maybe i didnt even save it TG: also why do you want me to delete so bad TG: its not much in the way of blackmail TG: who could possibly use it against you

CG: PEOPLE.

TG: thats specific

CG: I’M NOT REALLY IN THE MOOD FOR GOING INTO TOO MUCH DETAIL ABOUT THIS, SO COULD YOU PLEASE JUST TAKE MY WORD FOR IT AND DELETE THAT PHOTO?

TG: k

CG: REALLY? CG: JUST LIKE THAT?

TG: sure if it really matters to you that much ill make sure to get rid of it TG: you can tell me why at another time TG: i get if its too personal to talk about or whatever TG: sometimes that kind of thing happens TG: there we go TG: deleted photo

CG: THANKS

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

-- arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

AC: :33< *ac prowls up to the unsuspecting crow* AC: :33< *she asks meow the crow is doing!*

TG: *the crow says hes doing well and asks the same of the cat*

AC: :33< im fine! AC: :33< im meowstly just double checking the date and time we agr33d on for tea

TG: yeah im still on that day TG: just cant believe it in like a month and a half TG: seems like an almost unnecessary time to plan in advance

AC: :33< but it is a really meowfurlous tea place! AC: :33< its just a little exclawsive, so youve got to make reservations a bit in advance

TG: yeah i get that but the main question here is the dress code TG: can i show up in my jeans and hoodie or do ive got to pull out the singular suit i have TG: its bright red so i cant exactly wear it to black tie events

AC: :33< it s33ms more like mew should wear brunch attire

TG: khakis and a polo shirt got it

AC: ://< i guess thats brunch attire AC: :33< i would wear something a little nicer though

TG: so more like colorful khakis with a button down shirt that can hold cufflinks

AC: :33< yeah thats s33ms more appropriate AC: :33< mew could always ask kanya~a for advice on what to wear

TG: yeah im probably going to do that TG: also that cat pun in her name that you did was the best think ive heard all day ten out of ten would use again

AC: :33< thank mew! AC: :33< i like to give all meow furends cat pun names! AC: :33< its kind of hard to come up with them for some people though

TG: yeah im not sure how you can make a cat pun from dave TG: its pretty much impossible but if you do manage to do it i will be supremely impressed

AC: :33< meowbe a rhyming thing? AC: :33< like cavedave or something? AC: :33< but that makes you sound like some sort of caveman AC: :((< and thats not really cute

TG: maybe adding a hobby of mine of some sort to my name TG: like rapping TG: like rapnap dave or something TG: cause it sounds kind of like catnap

AC: :33< that certainly is a lot cuter! AC: :33< ill consider it! AC: :33< but ive got to go meow so we can talk later

TG: cool

-- arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

Since you were clearly talking to all your friends today, you might as well see if Aradia’s online as well. You’re pretty sure she was, and since you probably won’t get to contact her for a while, you might as well message her now.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] --

TG: have you finally figured out how im going to die TG: or divined that kind of shit yet TG: saw it in the clouds or something TG: my hot as hell dead body floating in the water staining the fluid and polluting the river and making it muddy with red TG: taking a stabbing and falling and dying before i could ask if it was something i said TG: choking to death, clubbing to death TG: hit through the chest with some white magic TG: bleeding and crying as they take their last breath TG: its all just so horrible and tragic TG: having every single one of these dreams TG: but i think i know that theyre memories TG: had these nightmares since i was a kid TG: always wondered if it was something i did TG: cause they made me scared of clowns swords and puppets TG: made me too scared to watch even the muppets TG: but they’re not just mine cause it’s not always my body TG: lying on the ground looking super fucking shoddy TG: and all i can feel is the oppression and fear TG: of letting go of all we hold dear TG: stabbed with a sword we did abhor TG: all the death and the violence and blood TG: overwhelmed us like a flood TG: but try as we might we had no chance TG: we were always meant to lose this dance TG: alright im done that was a dope ass fucking rap thanks folks for listening to how awesome that was

AA: you will die on the twentieth day of april in the year of 2069 from drug overdose

TG: nice

AA: also your rap was both cool and concerning

TG: yeah im not sure if i actually thought at all about what i just said in that rap TG: so basically i forgot everything that i just wrote

AA: thats the beauty of a messaging platform AA: you can just scroll up and reread what you wrote

TG: im sorry im suddenly unable to read

AA: wow AA: youre really going to do this

TG: yes and i have no regrets TG: hi im jared im nineteen and i never fucking learned how to read

AA: your name is dave

TG: shit TG: caught in the lie TG: what time will i have to spend in jail officer

AA: well since im not a cop AA: none! AA: but im still curious about whatever the hell was going on with that rap

TG: maybe you should respond with the stuff thats bothering you in rap form TG: do a little rap battle TG: but like TG: with feelings and shit TG: you can talk about whats bothering you and then i can elaborate on the fuckery in my rap

AA: alright i dont see why not AA: it will probably help us both AA: my heart and my brains been pulled taught AA: stuck between work and the one that i love AA: cant help my job fits me like a glove AA: but i cant stop thinking about my matesprit AA: how hes gonna face it AA: cause he says he supports me AA: and he says that he agrees AA: with putting my job first and foremost AA: while he sits in one place and holds post AA: i didnt mind too much before AA: we had all i could adore AA: but since he proposed were going to be married AA: i just dont know if that life should be carried

TG: well that sounds like something you should talk about TG: because not doing so might leave you in a drought TG: in your relationship where miscommunications TG: might lead to decimation TG: or more likely just breaking up TG: but you dont want that to burn up TG: so just have a talk with him about your concern TG: and then your love will continue to burn

AA: did you just rhyme up with up

TG: dont judge me im trying to help

AA: your advice was good but i can still judge you for your lack of slam poetry skills

TG: hey ill have you know im the best in the business

AA: must be a very small business

TG: wow TG: i cant believe my own moirail would do this to me

AA: you know i had to do it to em

TG: i hate you and everything that you stand for

AA: likewise AA: aside from that AA: do you want to talk about those dreams you mentioned at the start of this conversation

TG: i will only answer that if you ask me in a rap

AA: what the fuck was up with those dreams AA: you seem to be tearing at the seems AA: with all the death and the dying AA: and it might seems like im lying AA: but ive had those too AA: hit in the face and bid me adieu AA: except im a ghost and dead AA: dont know how but i bled AA: then im a frog for some reason AA: it has something to do with treason AA: then a robot that i hated AA: someones kinks that were stated AA: then i blow up again and again AA: wake up in pajamas the color of cayenne AA: and thats when i know that im alive AA: and i know for a fact that i will thrive

TG: always thought that i was alone in this TG: but i guess im not so now ill remiss TG: on all these nightmares ive had TG: that were all really bad TG: i always thought it was because of my childhood TG: never thought that i would be old enough to get to my knighthood TG: thought i was going to die alone TG: thought they wouldnt even find a bone TG: thought no would care if i was gone TG: always felt like i didnt belong TG: i thought the dreams were a message, an order TG: to finally get rid of the disorder TG: that was me theyd promised id be free TG: but i still desperately wanted to be TG: alive and awake and active and happy TG: excuse me if this starts to get a bit sappy TG: but i wanted love TG: i wanted to be above TG: my bro who so obviously hated me TG: and everyone i know would agree TG: so no matter how much i wanted to die TG: there was always something just keeping me alive TG: a wish or a kiss or a day that gets better TG: a time when i get to open a letter TG: theres something to live for something to survive for TG: going and traveling and taking a tour TG: listening to music when i feel depressed TG: going outside when i feel repressed TG: reminding myself its gonna be alright TG: in order to tell myself not to go towards the light

AA: feeling alive is good

TG: yeah TG: it is TG: thanks for listening

AA: thank you for listening! AA: thats what being moirails is all about AA: listening to each other and doing our best to comfort each other AA: although i guess thats what friendship is about too AA: moirail is more of a formal title

TG: i get that TG: someones messaging me now though so i guess this is where we can end our convo

AA: dont be a stranger!

TG: not planning to be one TG: <>

`AA: <>

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] --

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TT: Hello.

TG: yes just come up and start a chat using the most generic fucking greeting in the entire goddamn world TG: thats exactly how you start a conversation with someone youve known for years TG: start conversations by calling your friends a bitch like the rest of us

TT: I’m pretty sure I would like to have a little more class than that.

TG: ill bring you down to my level one day

TT: I will do my best to resist going down that low.

TG: listen TG: im pretty sure you dont have to go that far

TT: Wow. TT: Rude.

TG: thats a more appropriate way to talk to your brother

TT: I’ll be certain to use more crass language when greeting you next time I make the decision to start a conversation with you.

TG: anyway what did you want to talk to me about

TT: I would like to invite you to my party celebrating the release of my new book. TT: It takes place in a month at my house.

TG: you mean your big ass mansion

TT: Yes, I suppose that is an apt description of the location where I reside. TT: I suggest you dress formally for the occasion. TT: You can wear the suit that you had recently tailored for you.

TG: oh yeah the one kanaya made that feels like the softest goddamn plush toy in the childrens aisle

TT: Yes, please wear that one.

TG: alrighty sounds good to me

TT: Not going to argue about wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead?

TG: nah TG: not this time at least TG: im kind of excited to wear the one kanaya made anyway TG: especially since its the first suit that i actually kind of like

TT: Well, I look forward to seeing you at my party in a suit. TT: For now, I must go and give a few others personal invitations.

TG: k you do that

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

You proceeded to play videos games for the rest of the day because it was, in fact, your day off. You had to spend some of it by yourself after all.

#homestuck #hs #dave strider #rose lalonde #jade harley #john egbert #aradia megido #pale aradave #aradave

2 notes · View notes

diedieri · 6 years

Text

Trick or Drink - Creepslayerzweek Day #1

@ihateblocks asked “ Yesss, how do you think things would turn out if Steve ends up dragging Eli to a Halloween party with him? And while they're having a good time, someone Spikes the Punch™ and when Eli drinks some, he gets drunk a while later so Steve has to walk him home? Drunk and funny shenanigans happen. “

I’m a loser who doesn’t know how to answer asks with a read more so I don’t have a wall of text. Thank you so much for the suggestion, I hope you enjoy this treat! I legit had thoughts about this exact scene so I was super ready to write this! :D

Rule number one of a house party, don’t go alone. Rule number two, don’t drink from an open cup. It was not that Steve did not trust his classmates and teammates. Most of them were great! These were just the rules taught to him by his once seniors, so forth and so on. He’d been behind the counter with Mary Wang, inspecting what wasn’t locked up. Whipped Vodka, Rumchatta, Fireball, and straight Vodka. Not a bad selection, Vodka was also easy to fill back up.

“As long as they don’t try to freeze it,” Steve laughed. Before ghost-hunting and creep-catching with Elijah, time was spent with his sports team. He smoked. He drank. Nothing great, just a way to keep from being miserable. Drinking and smoking weren’t bad, in controlled proportions. No driving, the seniors said. If you need to puke, do it before bed. Eat a lot of bread. More rules to remember.

“Oh shit, Mary.” Steve, one beer in, jumped back from the witches’ brew bowl of punch. The treat had been a pure-Halloween treat, fruit punch, sherbet, gummy worms, and jolly ranchers. Mary’s pointed flick of her wrists added a trick—vodka and fireball. A real way to warm this party up. “You’re nasty, that’s gross.” Mary poured him a cup brimming to the rim, rolling her eyes, “go on. Try it Palchuk.”

His lips curled into a grin, not bad. A strange mix of flavors and the cinnamon tickled his tongue. “You’ll get away with it this time,” He warned.

“Yeah, now, tight jeans Hank is here. So. I gotta go.” It worked out for the best, his pocket buzzed.

‘Can you come back…?’

Dating was hard. Steve and Eli were open about their relationship, it only took a year. He told the team he’d be coming to the party with his boyfriend. The guys thought he was joking, an early Halloween prank. There was joking, teasing, and only one punch before Steve thought going together would be okay. Eli had never been to a party. Steve was dividing his time between him and socializing. He tried having Elijah tag along. He only looked more miserable and settled for waiting by the back door away from the heart of the party. For the Mole’s it was a tradition to wear togas as a team to the Halloween party. Only seniors were allowed to dawn burgundy sashes and Laurel wreathes. A bronze belt buckle held the fabric together, their team number etched into the piece. Handed down, senior to senior. Just the buckle and sash, it was up to you to find your own bedsheet. Steve gagged at the thought of a used one, the possibilities done on the fabric (much of which where in his own plans).

‘I’m on the first floor, against the wall, by the sliding door.’

Exactly where Steve had left him. Claire was supposed to keep him company! She had other things in mind, sitting in Jim’s lap, talking Aja’s ear off. He raised his glass as he passed. Lake still wasn’t his favorite; Steve and Claire still went to Papaskullz concerts together. It was nice to piss Jim off, though Eli and Claire were rubbing off on him. Lake wasn’t completely-entirely-the pits.

The crowd parted for Steve. White toga, burgundy sash. If that weren’t enough he was Steve Palchuk. He did not shimmy his shoulders or say excuse me once. “Hey Pep,” Steve’s shoulders fell an inch. Maybe it was the beer in him or he didn’t care who saw. He leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was only their second kiss in public. How could he not? Elijah’s outfit was perfect. Grey sweat pants, grey hoodie with a felted pink belly and tail, with matching pink Chucks. His nose painted black with whiskers. Morons called him a cat, “Such a cute kitty.” Steve kissed his neck.

“You have no idea. C’mon, I’m Pepperjack. I’m obviously a mouse!”

Steve knew, if only Eli wasn’t so cute when he pouted.

“Thanks for coming back,” Elijah clasped their hands together. Parties weren’t his thing. He’d much rather spend Halloween in an abandoned building. Because that was relaxing?

“Thanks for coming.” Steve thanked him twice earlier, seeing Elijah rub his arms and pick at his hoodie made him say it again. He appreciated Eli letting him keep with tradition and being together.

“Oh? Is that for me,” Elijah took the red cup and shook his head. He was nearing his limit, drink the punch quick and go home.

“Oh-oh…Okay you just drank that all. Okay. Cool.” Elijah handed the empty cup back to Steve, he tipped it over, honestly impressed. Maybe, hopefully, there wasn’t that much alcohol.

The first giggle was cute. Typical. Welcomed.

The second and third three-minute-long giggle fests were a bit of a concern. Steve grinned, sitting cross legged with Elijah practically sitting on him. Their knees overlapped. Elijah spoke with his hands, his words slurring, the motions sort of made up for it. “Uh-huh,” Steve prodded him on. Took only ten minutes for the booze to kick in and Eli was on fire.

“And-And he called me a cat! Can you believe that?”

“No shit?”

“No.”

He was Toby, Steve heard this story twice already. It ended with Toby groaning that Elijah called him a shadow (on purpose), Toby was a ninja.

“And-and….”

“And?” Steve took Eli’s hand now that it wasn’t swinging around.

Elijah’s lips slipped into a lazy smile, “I wanna kiss you.” Steve didn’t complain when Elijah leaned over, “Oh-shit, Pep.” He caught Eli by the shoulder. He wouldn’t have fell far, but him falling at all was a bit of concern. He wasn’t embarrassed, smiling still. That definitely wasn’t normal.

“Alright. Hey. You sit right here, babe. I’m going to tell the guys I’m ducking out.” He’d be gone two minutes at most. Turns out chanting, grunting, and a quasi-pep rallying took about fifteen. Eli was not in the state left in either. His laughing louder, his head rolling to one side and then the other. Beside him, Colby, with an empty red solo cup.

“Fuck. You didn’t give him that?”

“Yeah. ‘Sup?”

“It’s spiked.” Steve’s arm snaked around Elijah’s waist, securing him to his side. Not that he needed to, Elijah melted into him like a stick of butter.

“Well that explains why it didn’t taste like shit anymore,” he grinned with a snicker. “You got him, dude?”

“Yeah. So…What the heck are you supposed to be?” Steve didn’t get it ‘Doo-doo-do-doo-dee-doo’ Really? Was he wearing a shirt about shit?

“You are such uneducated garbage.” Colby pressed his hand to Elijah’s cheek, “Hey you? Yeah, you with the grin. Tell your boyfriend you want an X-Files marathon.”

“Ohmygod. Steve? Are we going to go watch Scully and Mulder?’ Eli popped up and bopped his head on Colby’s chin. Gladly, Steve took his turn to snicker.

“Uhh, yeah babe, totally!” He’d been worried Elijah would turn into a disagreeable drunk, being that he was so complacent normally. His arm jerked forward, his chest lurching forward in a sudden thrust.

“Later Colby.”

“Later Palchuk.”

Elijah weaved and got stuck, their arms going taut until Steve closed the spaces between them. The crowd parted. Eli didn’t slow down until outside, “ahh~” He breathed, arms out stretched. His body tilted back, caught by Steve’s hands.

“C’mon.”

“Heh. ‘Kay.” Elijah bounced and Steve kept up the pace. They’d have four blocks to walk, no time to sober up, and Steve hadn’t heard from his mom what time she and coach would be getting back. At least, they had already gotten permission to stay the night over at Steve’s. He had never intending on letting Elijah drink, but he didn’t want to be caught dead with an ounce of intoxication on the Pepperjack premises.

“Steve!”

Saved by the Pep.

“Hm?” His arm sidled around Elijah’s waist, keeping their pace and the other upright.

“It’s our anniversary.”

“Uh, that was last week Pep.” When he officially came out of the closet, dating in secret was eating away at Elijah and if he was being honest, himself.

“Nono! Not that anniversary. Pssh. Old news. Who’s counting?”

Steve knew, Eli was, he planned a whole date week for the two of them. “What am I forgetting?”

“The first time we saw a ghost together.”

“Ah yes, Casper. Our Cupid.” He was being sarcastic, it’d be funny if it wasn’t ironic.

“I. LOVE. STEVE!” Elijah yelled without hesitation. Steve’s hands quickly covered in slobber, brushing against Elijah’s mouth as he laughed, having zero luck in keeping him quiet.

“Sh-shshh,” He wasn’t convincing, still snickering, blushing. This was supposed to be a big moment! Elijah just SCREAMED the L-word! Elijah wiggled and squirmed out from under his hand. “He’s my boyfriend!” Elijah laughed again, screaming at still hopeful trick-or-treaters. Steve hugged him to his chest, walking Elijah backwards. His body warm against his, growing warmer with every laugh.

“Leslie, if you don’t cool it…”

“Leslie!” Elijah bellowed, his attempts to jump back foiled by Steve’s hug to his chest. “Leslie. Yeah. That’s me. You’re dating LESLIE.”

“I’m dating a drunk shit.” Steve mouthed against his lips, hoping to offer some distraction. They were getting close; his fucking luck Ms. Pepperjack would be rounding the corner.

“Hey,” Eli whispered, the kiss taking effect.

“Yeah?”

“Can I wear your flower?”

“It’s a Laurel.” Steve corrected, Elijah was drunk he’d never have another chance to one up him.

“Yeah.”

Steve plucked the leaf wreath from his head and plopped it onto Elijah’s. His eyes lit up, wide and hazy, but elated. Steve stroked his cheek, shivering at the wind on his bare arms. They were close, he could stand it for the moment. The cold was good to sober Eli up anyhow.

“After I get you some water and you’re a little less tipsy, can you tell me that again?”

Eli leaned back, grinning as Steve used one arm to pull him back again. “What?” He asked, cheeks rosy from the cold, the alcohol, the possibilities to be had on the sheets.

“That you love me.” Steve kissed him softly, he wouldn’t get to do more until Elijah sobered up. But not kissing was impossible. Not when he was thinking about what Elijah saying those words could mean.

“If you say you love me back.”

“Nah.”

“What?!” Elijah gawked.

“Trick-or-treat.”

“You buttsnack!”

Steve snickered.

“Steve! C’monnn” Elijah grabbed his shoulders, attempting to shake him but succeed in only moving himself. “The good candy. Not the cheap stuff, no tootsie roll equivalent like ‘you too’.”

He had intending on saying it when both of them were sober. Drunk Eli however, had demands. Who was he to deny them?

“I love you, Pepper.”

“Whoa…That was like…King size candy.”

“Well. I am Steve Palchuk. Spring Fling King, two years running. And you, my little mouse,” Steve nuzzled his head into Elijah’s neck, eliciting another eruption of giggles. “Are the love of my life. And if you sober up, maybe we can go ghost hunt.”

No words could have been sweeter.

“I love you, Steve.”

Except those four exactly.

#creepslayerzweek #creepslayerz #trollhunters #manawrites #elijah pepperjack #steve palchuk #this is my first time writing a ficlet for a request #i really hope its okay and that you enjoy it!!!!#legit thank you so much for asking

18 notes · View notes

youvebeenblessed · 6 years

Text

Ok I have no idea where I'm going with this and it has no title yet but I'm going with Reed for now

This is born out some discord talk about how Nick and John have a complicated relationship built around planes and anger. Will be many more parts and proper content warnings etc when more is written. This is just a slooooow intro to the history of my two favourite boys. Only warning right now is some strong language and some strong feelings about John Seed.

The Seed Family had rolled into town on a dull Tuesday afternoon about 7 years ago, 3 brothers who quietly bought up the big ranch south west of Fall’s End.

The place had been vacant for the last few years, more people trying to leave the valley than settle down in it. At first, no one noticed the family much past them turning up in town to enquire about buying the ranch and the land surrounding it. Most of the townsfolk wondered why 3 youngish men needed such a big space, wondered at the experience any of them had when it came to working a ranch. Wondered where they got the cash. Back then, there had been a subtle southern lull in their voices, not that any of them spoke much. The youngest seemed the most talkative, a glint in his eye, soft buttery words, and brilliantly white teeth as he negotiated the price. He was in his mid twenties, a well-groomed dark stubble across his sharp jaw that made him stand out from the regular, rugged Montana men that had lived in Holland Valley all their lives. The other two brothers stood back, older than their sibling by a good few years. One stood rigid, shoulders square, feet apart, and hands clasped in a way that would have given him away as a military man if it weren’t for the regulation jacket and the dog tags hanging from his neck. His gaze rested on the imaginary horizon, as though still on duty, still on patrol, still waiting for that enemy to come, seeing everything and looking at nothing. If his presence was unnerving, it was nothing compared to the middle brother, all wide eyes and piercing stare covered by bizarre yellow glasses. He radiated a stillness that seemed altogether unnatural, and he smiled often as the youngest spoke. John it transpired, discussed the terms of the ranch’s purchase.

“...you fellas aren’t from round here, are you?” The man studied John quietly as he spoke. He didn’t look in the least familiar, and he couldn’t see a trace of any of the families that lived in the valley in the features of these brothers’ faces. You didn’t just happen across Holland Valley, you came because you had some distant relative there, or you were born there. You knew it was there. These 3 men had turned up out of nowhere, asking questions about the town and the county like they had read about it in some travel guide and were looking to see the sights. Yet somehow they knew about the ranch, and even more strangely, wanted to buy it. The place hadn’t been a profitable business for the last two decades, and the damn place just wouldn’t sell for love nor money. John simply smiled wider at the man, letting out a laugh before continuing.

“Is it that obvious?” His smile faded a little after he spoke, getting no reaction from the man behind the desk. The silence lingered in the air like stale smoke in a dive bar, hinting at something on edge beneath the niceties. John cleared his throat like he was about to speak again when the man cut him off.

“Look, I only ask because Hope County might not be the place for you boys. Ranch has seen better days, and ain’t really worth all that much to anyone who ain’t got the wherewithal to turn it around. No offense, but you don’t seem the type to be ranch hands,” He notably glanced at John’s impeccable dress shirt, pausing before continuing, “and there ain’t many folk left in town looking for work these days. Maybe you’d be better off heading to Missoula.” John laughed again, a dissatisfied sounding huff, and placed his hands down on the desk in front of him, leaning heavily, shoulders rounded, and moved closer to the man behind it. He was about to speak again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The odd looking brother with the yellow glasses motioned with his head for John to move over and stood next to him in front of the desk, clasping his hands behind his back. He stood motionless, staring at the face of the man John had been speaking with as though sifting through his thoughts, the edges of his mouth curving into a slight smile. Up close, he seemed even more oppressive, and that unwavering stare seemed to pierce right through him. The man tried to hide his involuntary shudder. Finally, the other brother spoke.

“Hope County will be a new home for us. We will work the land as needed. We will build a new life here. We will welcome you as neighbour, help build a community.” He paused, nodding to his brother John once more who promptly withdrew three crisp stacks of 50 dollar bills from his back pocket, somehow unaffected by their time in his jeans. The man reckoned there was at least 15 grand on the table and he contemplated the stacks neatly place in front of him before looking back up at the brothers. The eldest hadn’t moved from his spot near the door, except now he was watching the man carefully, peering between his brothers’ shoulders. The man looked between them all, saying nothing. John inhaled a long quiet breath in, spreading his face back into that winning smile.

“A deposit. We can transfer the rest of the funds to you today, if it suits you. We’d really like that ranch.” The man just kept looking. They all three of them had the same eyes, those eyes that bored their way through him, made him feel like a deer caught in the headlights. He seemed to think it over, unsure of these strange newcomers so insistent on a beat up old ranch miles from anything. He would understand them buying property in town, if he understood them coming here at all. The youngest certainly had the air of a city dweller about him. The brief glance he had had as John had rested his hands on the table had told him he hadn’t worked a day’s labour in his life, though he noticed the odd scar on the back of his wrists, peeking out the edge of his sleeves. Maybe from a childhood spent playing in trees and scrambling through the brush back down in the south. He thought he could glimpse the lines of what might be a tattoo on his arms, but the long sleeved of his shirt revealed little. But damn if he hadn’t been trying to shift that cursed ranch for years, and the money before him was a welcome offer. Without another word, he opened his desk drawer, pulling out a key from the few he had littered in there. He paused, catching sight of the old pistol he kept in there, briefly wondering why it struck him, but pushed the drawer shut again, holding the key out to them.

“...Welcome to Holland Valley, fellas.”

News of the newcomers had spread in Fall’s End pretty quickly. Nothing more than that the old ranch had been bought up by a family of brothers who seemed friendly enough. No one had seen them in town yet, which seemed surprising since it was the only place to get supplies for miles. Mary May had been working behind the bar, a young girl just barely eighteen, fresh faced and freckled, just like her Daddy, chatting with Nick Rye as she flipped the bottle cap off another beer and handed it to him, mentioning in passing that he had a new neighbour.

“The old ranch, huh?” Nick had said, eyebrows raising as he took a swig of the cold beer. “It’ll be good to have more folks around on the land that way. They ranchers?” He asked Mary May. She shrugged, drying off glasses with a dish towel.

“Not much anyone knows about them. Supposedly nice enough.”

“I oughtta swing by, introduce myself. See if they need a hand. Offer ‘em a tour of the valley courtesy of Nick Rye and his future sons.” Mary May snorted, shaking her head.

“Yeah, that’ll be a long time coming, Nick.” Nick shook his head at her, gulping down more beer and letting out a loud burp.

“I’m a fucking catch, Mary May.”

Nick decided to drive up the following afternoon, excited at the chance of having new neighbours after so many years. The ranch had belonged to a friend of his Daddy’s, and the pair had spent almost every night drinking beers together, blaring rock music on the porch as they took shots at passing birds. Nick had spent almost every summer growing up helping with the cattle before he was old enough to learn to fly, and join his Daddy’s business. The man had been like an uncle to Nick, and it broke his heart to watch the place fall into disrepair, cows long gone, and his Dad’s buddy dead. It’d be nice to see some new blood there. Nick had heard the brothers were around his age, and he had grown sick of hanging out with Sharky and Hurk all the time. They were great and all, but they had known each other since they were babies, and Nick could only talk about huntin’ puss for so long.

He pulled up in front of the old house, scanning around for any sign of movement. There were big black cases everywhere, but the house was deathly still, and looked like it hadn’t even been touched yet. “...hello? Anyone home?” he called out his open window. There was no answer, no twitch of the curtains, no sound at all. He opened the door and got out his car, stepping forward a few steps towards the door. “Name’s Nick. Nick Rye. I live just down the road a ways, down at the airstrip.” He waited, looking around again at nothing. Seemed odd to him there would be no one there only a few days after they had bought the place, and with shit everywhere. Deciding they might have headed off to town to get supplies or something, Nick fished out a scrap of paper and a pen from his glove box, scrawling a note that read: “Hey neighbour, came to introduce myself but missed you. Let me know if you need anything, I’m down at the airstrip. - Nick Rye”. The old mailbox was long gone, knocked over one night when he and Sharky had taken a little joy ride up round the ranch after a night of heavy drinking at the Spread Eagle, so he left the note on the porch, pinning it down with a rock and heading home. Maybe he’d see them at the bar.

Jacob was the one who found the note, kicking the rock off with his boot and scooping it up roughly. He read it over saying nothing, heading over to Joseph coming up the stairs to the house and pinning it against his chest with his hand. The brothers had returned to Atlanta, packing up things from the church, moving families out that would follow them north, to Hope County, to Joseph’s promised land. John had been battling with the local law enforcement, using his connections built as an attorney to sway things in the family favour. They couldn’t prove anything, he whispered, smiling that sharp smile all teeth edge and never reaching his eyes. Circumstantial evidence at best. The family would move on quietly, and the missing man searched for long after they left. A few loyal followers had made the return trip with them, ready to help with the ranch, sleeping on the dusty floor like it was the softest bed.

Joseph was shaken from his reverie by his brother, taking the note from him and reading it through with a blank expression on his face. “They have welcomed us already. This is a good place. These are good people. Just as God told me, as he planned for us.” Jacob said nothing to this, looking at John coming up the steps behind Joseph. He stopped when he noticed his brothers looking at him.

“...what? What is it?” He said, looking between his brothers. Joseph passed John the note, Jacob filling him in.

“We missed the welcome wagon.”

Nick told Mary May about his venture up to the house that night in the Spread Eagle. “Thought they might have called, or dropped by or something. You seen ‘em in here yet?” Mary May shook her head.

“No one’s seen ‘em yet. Maybe they’ve been busy. Maybe they don’t drink.” Mary May smirked, watching Nick shake his head drinking his beer and almost spilling it down himself.

“Nobody doesn’t fuckin’ drink, Mary.” he said, sitting his beer down and wiping the drips that had snaked their way down his beard. “Maybe they’re moving their stuff in. Mac said they sounded like they were from the south. Maybe they had to drive back.” Mary shrugged.

“Well, they’ll be in town sooner or later. Ain’t nobody patching that place up without supplies, and ain’t nothing that way for miles and miles and miles and miles and--” she chuckled as Nick cut her off.

“Alright, city girl, I get it, you love the big bright lights of Fall’s End.”

“Well you drag your ass up here every night in my bar, you don’t see me coming to you.”

Mary May was wrong, no one saw the family in town for the first two weeks after they had moved in, though there were rumours saying there were strange people all dressed in white hanging about the ranch, moving and fixing, and patching things up. No one had seen the strange people in town, and most folk just took it for people looking to stir the pot in the bar of an evening. Truth be told, everyone was itching to meet them. Who the hell moved in to Holland Valley?

It was the Sunday three weeks after the ranch had been bought up that the brothers finally appeared in Fall’s End. Pastor Jerome had just started his sermon, welcoming the usual faces in the crowd, cracking a few jokes with people before getting into the main words of it. The church doors had quietly opened, no one paying much attention as there was a latecomer every week, nursing a hangover from one too many at the bar. It wasn’t until they had walked down a few rows of pews to be as close to the front as they could be that people began to realise it was the family there had been so many whispers about. Nick was sat reclining on a pew near the back of the church, eyes wandering to where that cute girl Kim was sat with her parents a few rows up, but the passing brothers broke his view, and he looked up at each of them as they passed, first Jacob, then Joseph and then John. The youngest did indeed seem to be about Nick’s age, maybe a few years older. The others looked like they were heading towards the later years of thirty. Nick wondered why none of them had settled yet, no women with them, and what had brought them here like a stray tumbleweed. A few people began to whisper to each other as they took a seat, Mary May turning round to catch Nick’s eye, facial expression amused and full of sparking curiosity. Pastor Jerome noticed them only from the rush of whispers they left in their path, pausing to glance at them before continuing to preach. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a new face in his congregation.

After the service had concluded, and people began to meander their way back to town, Mary May walked quickly to Nick, grabbing his arm and speaking closely in his ear. She always smelled distantly of beer and some sugar sweet perfume, and he could feel her warm breath on his neck as she spoke excitedly. “Well fuck me, if they ain’t a good looking family, Nicky.” He shook his head at her. She was always a sucker for a pretty boy. That’s what kept her turning Nick down.

“Easy there, Mary, they’re all too old for you and you don’t know a damn thing about them.”

“I know that youngest one has the finest ass in this whole damn county, and don’t you act shocked Nick Rye, I’ve heard you and Sharky cussin’ every which way since I was knee-high to a grasshopper and talking about every girl in this town like she’s a pork chop ready to get eaten up.” His shocked face at her declaration was cut short, and by the end he was grinning sheepishly. Sharky was a bad influence. He noticed that the middle brother had stopped to talk to Pastor Jerome, wide smile on his face as he spoke animatedly with him. Oddly, Jerome didn’t seem quite so enthusiastic, but he nodded patiently, and spoke every now and then between breaks in the man’s words. The other two brothers stood a little ways off, the youngest flashing a big pearly grin as he chatted with some of the townsfolk. Mary May was watching him approvingly, and he noticed a few of the other women similarly entranced, casting too-long glances at him and walking more slowly than usual. The eldest brother stood, arms crossed, between his two siblings, watching John talk but saying nothing himself. His deep red hair marked him out from his brothers, but he had those same startlingly blue eyes, his razor sharp compared to the warmth of his siblings. “Come on, we’re gonna go talk to them.” Before he knew what was happening, Mary May had dragged him over by his arm, making a beeline for the youngest brother. The group he had been talking to began to wander off as they approached him, and he turned to them with that brilliant smile never faltering. Up close, Nick felt there was an odd tension in the man’s jaw, and stiffness to his shoulders he tried to cover as he moved. Maybe he just seemed tense next to the intensity of his eldest brother. Nick looked at them both as Mary May spoke. “Hey there, you must be the new family that’s moved in up at the old ranch. We wondered when we might see you in town.” John watched her intently, giving her all his attention with soft eyes never leaving hers. Nick could see a faint flush rising on Mary May’s neck as she spoke, swallowing slightly after her words, but never faltering. “I’m Mary May, I work up at my Daddy’s bar, the Spread Eagle, and this,” she tugged on Nick’s arm “is Nick Rye. He works with his Daddy at Rye & Sons not too far down the road from the ranch. Big airstrip? They help out crop dustin’, giving tours, that sort of thing.” John glanced at Nick, giving him a quick nod and turning back to Mary May.

“What a pleasure to meet you both. I’m John Seed. This,” he moved over to where his brother stood scowling and gripped both his shoulders, shaking him as best he could, “is my oldest brother Jacob, and that over there,” he nodded over to where the middle brother stood still chewing the Pastor’s ear off, “is t-- Joseph.” The stutter was almost imperceptible, and he quickly hid it behind that ever present smile. Jacob said nothing. “We are looking forward to joining the community.” John said, turning to face Nick again. Nick couldn’t work this guy out. He seemed nice enough, genuine and warm, well-dressed. Obviously well educated. He had almost completely thrown off the southern lilt in his accent, and from the shirt he was wearing, clearly had money. But there was something off. Nick shook it off as just not meeting new people often, trying not to judge the brothers, but being wary of them too. He still couldn’t wrap his head around why anyone, let alone three fairly young brothers, would move out to the sticks. John seemed like he might have been about to speak, but Nick jumped in.

“You guys ever fancy a drink, you can find us down in the Spread Eagle most nights. Best way to meet everyone in town, most folks spend their evenings there. Be nice to have some fresh faces in the place.” Mary May glowed as she looked at Nick. He could tell she was delighted at the prospect of getting this guy in her bar.

“That’s kind of you.” John said, glancing at his brother Jacob briefly. He kept his silence, but cleared his throat in a gruff way, and shifted his stance. “You said you’ve got the airstrip down the way?” John had turned to Nick again, those keen eyes locking onto him. Nick nodded. “Rye & Sons was it?” John’s voice was smooth as silk, and almost hypnotic. It was oddly soothing.

“Sure is.”

“What kind of planes do you have?” His eyes seemed to glimmer more as he asked the question, showing that same keen interest in Nick as he had speaking with Mary May, like Nick was the only thing that mattered in that moment. He almost found it endearing.

“We got Carmina, she’s an old seaplane my Grandaddy bought after he came home from the war, and she’s a thing of fuckin’ beauty. You lookin’ to hire a plane?”

“Actually, I was looking to buy one. We’ve got big plans for the ranch, and we’re hoping to have our own airstrip on the land. Once we’ve done the place up, maybe we can come by and take a look at what you have.” Nick shook his head.

“Nah, I’m afraid no can do, Carmina ain’t for sale, and our other plane is out of commission at the moment. You fellas need an airstrip, huh? What is it you guys do?” John smiled widely, stretching his arms out and laughing softly. This guy sure was a smooth talker.

“Family business, same as you.” Nick’s eye was caught by the other brother finally breaking away from Pastor Jerome and walking over to where the four were gathered. He placed a hand gently on John’s shoulder, but he flinched as though a pile of bricks had landed on him. “Joseph” John said, without looking at his brother. “These are our neighbours, Mary May and Nick Rye.” Joseph stared unblinkingly at them, smiling and speaking just as softly as his younger brother.

“Ahhh, the good samaritans.” Nick stood confused. “We appreciated your note.” The note. Nick had forgotten he left it, and it struck him as strange John hadn’t mentioned it. “I hope we can help each other in the future, Nick Rye.” This sibling creeped Nick out even more than the other two, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe the way those yellow lenses made his blue eyes muddy, all at once hidden and magnified by the glasses. They all stood, awkward in the niceties of new conversation before John broke the silence.

“Well, it has been swell getting to meet the pair of you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on.” If it hadn’t been for his sickly sweet smile, one Mary May returned gladly, that would almost have sounded ominous. The three brothers headed off to where Nick could see there was a large white truck parked, waving at a few people who greeted them on the way. City boys, he thought, the damn thing was gleaming with not a dent or nick on it.

The bar was buzzing that night with talk of the new brothers. How handsome and friendly they were. Guesses at what they did, why they wanted the ranch, why they had come here of all places. Whether they had girlfriends or wives. Or boyfriends, Sharky pointed out loudly. Ain’t no need to be making assumptions. Mary May had that same flushed look on her face she had done that morning as she talked about their meeting with the youngest brother.

“There were three of them, you realise that, Mary May?” Nick couldn’t help the corners of his mouth curling to a grin before sipping his beer. That girl.

“Yeah, and any one of them could get it. I’m just saying.” “You’re a freak, Mary May.”

“You’re a dick, Nick Rye.” Nick laughed again, finishing the dregs of his beer and contemplating the road home. But his mind stuck again on these three brothers. Breezing in to town with their charm, and their money. Wanting a plane? That’s an odd one. Sure, a fair number of folk had planes in Holland Valley, but most of them used them for crop dusting, same as Nick, or for an easy means of travelling the county. Beat up old things on tiny strips of clear land that hardly counted for anything. Building a full on airstrip? For a cattle ranch? Seemed weird to Nick. And that John had been so charming, so polite, asking all the right questions, but said nothing about the note Nick left. He was thinking too much. They were just new and he was just curious. He wondered when he might meet them again.

#nick rye #john seed #I haven't written in fucking years omg

25 notes · View notes

whattimeisitintokyo · 6 years

Text

Somos Familia Ch 8

Chapter 8: New Addition(s)

It was another two months before Ernesto returned to Santa Cecilia to personally review the brand new songs that Héctor had written for him. He sat outside in the courtyard under the shade of the large tree in the corner, sipping on a bottle of mango agua fresca and flipping through the dozen of sheets of paper filled with lilting melodies, toe tapping tempos and, at times, funny lyrics. He hummed out the tunes himself, laughed at the appropriate times and when he finished he happily slapped Héctor on the knee.

“My friend, you have outdone yourself this time! These songs are pure gold! I personally like Flores de la Mente the best, it is hauntingly beautiful. I can imagine singing it while pining for a lost love. Was that your intention?” Ernesto asked.

“Yeah.” Héctor mumbled.

“But Bang Bang Bang y Pop Pop is wonderful too. A real toe tapper and funny to boot! We’re going to need to hire some professional dancers when I perform this in public. In traditional folk garb with lots of color, what do you think?”

“Sounds great.” Héctor murmured.

“Perfecto!” Ernesto pulled out some papers and handed Héctor a pen. “Now if you just sign here to give permission to Barrera Records to produce it… Uh huh, and sign here for residuals and royalties… Sign here… Initial here… Bueno! Congratulations Héctor! I’ll get these to Fredo muy pronto, record them, and personally give you the debut record myself just in time when the baby comes!” Ernesto smiled.

Héctor shuddered and gripped his arms. “G-gracias…”

Ernesto’s cheery demeanor drooped to a pout. He thought that Héctor would be happy that their dreams were coming into fruition, instead the younger man looked like he was about to head to the gallows. “Héctor, I cannot help but feel you’re not as excited as you should be. Is there something on your mind that I should be concerned about?”

“Don’t mind him Ernesto.” Oscar said as he and Felipe walked out into the courtyard carrying a bottle of lime agua fresca each. “He’s just being a worrywart over what the doctor told him this morning.”

“Doctor? Is it about Imelda? I hope everything is alright.” Ernesto said, with genuine concern.

“Tell him, cuñado.” Felipe said, smiling at Héctor.

Héctor wiped a hand over his face and sighed shakily. “W-well,” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I’ve n-noticed the past few weeks that Imelda seemed a bit… bigger… than her last pregnancy. Not in weight gain, but… in here,” he said, gesturing to his stomach. “But I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to upset her. She’s been so moody lately that anything will set her off. But…” Héctor gulped. “This morning she voiced the same concern that I had… S-so we went to the d-doctor… and he s-said…” he trailed off, shaking his head with wide eyes.

“Go on, amigo.” Ernesto said as he patted Héctor’s back.

Héctor sighed again and closed his eyes. “He said that either it was going to be a big baby, which given how small Coco was when she was born seemed unlikely… Or-…” Héctor’s voice cracked again and he bowed his head into his hands.

“Or?” Ernesto goaded him on; even though he was now sure he knew what was coming next.

Héctor didn’t lift up his head, but instead he raised his hand. With two fingers.

“Two?! Twins?!” Ernesto barked out a hearty laugh and shook Héctor by the shoulders. “Congratulations, hermanito! Ha ha! Ay Dios mio! Twins! I didn’t think you had it in you!”

“I don’t.” Héctor growled and raised his head, glaring as he pointed an accusing finger at Oscar and Felipe. “It’s them! This is their fault!”

Oscar and Felipe just rolled their eyes and sipped their drinks. “And how do you figure that?”

“You infected Imelda with your… doubleness!” Héctor accused, twiddling his fingers at them like they were some contagious disease.

“I don’t think that’s a word, Héctor.” Ernesto pointed out.

“Whatever! They are twins, and because of them, Imelda is having twins. That’s all I know!” Héctor huffed.

“It doesn’t work like that, idiota.” Felipe growled. “It’s passed down the bloodline, not across it. If anything, you should blame our Mamá and Papá.”

“Well, you two are here, so it’s easier to blame you.” Héctor growled, and then winced at his words, immediately regretting them. “I’m sorry…”

Oscar shook his head and smiled. “It’s okay, hermano. We know you’re stressed. Just don’t say things like that in front of Imelda.” He warned. Oscar and Felipe had no memory of their parents, having been far too young when they died. But Imelda did and still held them in high esteem. She would not tolerate such words said against them. Héctor nodded and sighed again.

“Héctor you can’t possibly be worried about not being able to afford two babies, can you?” Ernesto said as he held up the signed papers. “You are about to be a very wealthy man, and Imelda’s business is flourishing! They’ll want for nothing!”

“No, it’s not about the money.” Héctor moaned. “I was so worried about complications back when Imelda was pregnant with Coco, and that was only with one baby! Now that there are two, the risks have literally doubled!” Héctor sighed. “Remember that viejo Senor Bautista?” The other three men nodded in sad remembrance. “They said he was once the happiest man in Santa Cecilia. Had the most beautiful wife and had a booming business as a rancher. He had the perfect life... But then she gave birth to two stillborns and died herself soon after, and he became a bitter, broken man for the rest of his days, living in that decrepit shack on the edge of town.” Héctor shook his head in fear. “If that happens to Imelda, I… I don’t know what I’d do! How could I even go on?!”

“You’d still have Coco, Héctor!” Felipe said and placed a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “And Oscar and I. We’d never let you go down that path, we’re your family.”

“You’d have me as well, my friend.” Ernesto said, his eyes full of sincerity. “I know I’ve never said this before, but your well-being means more to me than you can possibly imagine.” Ernesto smiled with a hint of sadness and looked down. “You won’t be alone.”

Héctor smiled at his brothers. “Gracias you guys… Gah! What are we talking about?! This is Imelda, for crying out loud!” He laughed and the others joined in. “She’s stronger than all four of us put together!” He raised his own grape agua fresca in a toast. “To Imelda and the new Rivera twins!”

“Salud!”

Héctor, Oscar and Felipe clinked their glasses together and made move to drink, but the crash of shattering glass startled them. Ernesto had dropped his bottle to the ground as it had slipped through deadened fingers. Héctor had just enough time to see the panicked, far-away expression on his friend’s face before, with a quick shake, Ernesto dropped to the ground and started to carefully pick up the shards. “S-sorry, my friends.” He mumbled. “The bottle was too slick and it flew out of my hand. I’ll clean it up pronto!”

“Ernesto, are you alright?” Héctor asked and placed a hand on Ernesto’s back.

“Fine! I’m fine! It’s just… Ha, it’s just too damn hot out!” Ernesto laughed and fanned himself. “Too much condensation on the bottle.”

“Why don’t you roll up your sleeves then, amigo?” Oscar offered as he pointed to Ernesto’s buttoned up cuffs. “It is muy caliente out here.”

“Just the sight of you in long sleeves and a jacket is starting to make me broil.” Felipe added.

Ernesto grinned and chuckled nervously, backing away like a cornered animal. “Seriously, I’m fine, I-“

Suddenly Coco came out to the courtyard frowning. “Shh! Too noisy! Mamá is sleeping.”

Héctor held up a hand towards his daughter. “Careful Coco, stay back. There’s broken glass over here-“

“Oh, our apologies, Coco!” Ernesto butted in and smiled down at the little girl. Good, an easy out and a chance to change the subject! “You are such a considerate child. Say, what do you think about your Mamá having two babies, niña?”

“I’m very happy!” Coco said. “Yesterday it was only one baby, today it is two babies. Maybe tomorrow it will be three babies!” And with that she happily skipped back to her room, not hearing the whine of fear her Papá let out.

As Oscar and Felipe tried to console their brother-in-law again, Ernesto huffed a sigh of relief, placed the signed papers into his jacket and then tugged at his cuffs. He needed to get back to Mexico City, and fast.

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

It was a rainy Sunday morning at the beginning of September, and the Rivera shoe shop was closed for the day. Normally this was because the family would head off to Sunday mass and then just laze the rest of the day away and not think of work, or orders that weren’t finished, or shoes at all. But today was different for the Riveras, as well as the town midwife and her two assistants, who were also missing mass. It was a day Coco had been excited about for such a long time, but now that it was here, all she felt was terror.

She clung to her Tío Oscar’s shirt and huddled against his chest as she let him rock her gently, but an ear-piercing shriek caused her to shrink even more in his hold. “Mamá…” she whimpered and watched her parents’ bedroom door with wide, glistening eyes.

“It’s okay, Coco.” Oscar said as he continued his rocking. “This is completely normal. Your Mamá will be fine. Just fi-“ Another scream cut off his words of encouragement, and Coco buried her face in his shirt and trembled.

Felipe came in from the kitchen carrying four steaming cups on a tray. “Okay! Hot chocolates for everyone, including one with extra cinnamon for Héc-… Héctor? Where’d he go?”

Oscar bent his head to the door. “Imelda was screaming for him, and before I had a chance to blink he bolted in there.”

Felipe rolled his eyes and shook his head. “A husband has no place in the birthing room! Everyone knows that!” he handed Oscar a mug. “This one has no cayenne.”

“Since when have those two ever been orthodox?” Oscar took the mug and nodded his thanks to his brother. “C’mon Coco, drink some of this. You’ll feel much better.”

Coco took the mug and sipped the sweet chocolate and let the warmth flow through her. It did make her feel better, but she wished her Papá hadn’t left her so suddenly. However even her small child’s mind knew that he was right where he was needed.

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

Imelda sagged against Héctor’s chest as she felt the baby finally slide out of her and gasped out trying to catch her breath. She felt his long arms wrap around her and he kissed her brow, but she wished he didn’t do either. She felt hot, sticky and just plain disgusting, not to mention still in a whole lot of pain. But still Héctor held her close against him, letting her sweat and other fluids soak into his clothes, as he cried and babbled sweet nothings at her.

“Ay, bebé precioso!” he blubbered as hot tears dripped off his face and onto Imelda’s. “Perfecto! Maravilloso! Imelda, it’s so beautiful!”

“What is it?” Imelda panted.

“Oh, right! What is it, senora?” Héctor leaned over Imelda’s head to peer at the baby.

“It’s a girl.” The midwife said as she wiped the newborn’s face off, and at that the baby let out a creaky wail that turned into a full bellied cry, in perfect synch with her Papá’s grito.

“A girl! Oh, diosa!” Héctor peppered Imelda’s face with kisses as they both faintly heard Oscar and Felipe cheering on the other side of the door. “Gracias Imelda! She’s so beautiful!” He bounced excitedly. “Her name! What’s her name?!”

Imelda smiled tiredly and closed her eyes. “Leticia.”

“Leticia…” Héctor sighed and squeezed his wife in a hug. “Leti-ti-ti-ticia, with flowers in her hair…” he sang. “Ha! I love it!” He watched the two other girls in the room clean her off and cut the umbilical cord with a dreamy expression. “Ay Imelda, she’s so beautiful. So tiny.”

“Tiny?” Imelda sat up as much as she could and looked at the small baby. “Ay, dios mio… Mierda! That means there is another one in here!” She said as she glared at her still protruding stomach.

Héctor chuckled. “I thought we already established that, mi amor.”

“I know, but I was hoping that there wasn’t so I wouldn’t have to go through that agaiiiAAAAH!” Imelda surged back onto Héctor’s chest and tensed up in pain. The midwife came back in between her patient’s legs with one of her other helpers, ready for round two. Héctor braced himself behind his wife and held her up to aid her in her pushing. “Héctor…” she moaned. “Héctor, I’m so tired. I can’t do this anymore!”

“Of course you can!” Héctor said in a stern voice that surprised Imelda. “You are a Rivera, and a Rivera never gives up on anything! You’ve shown me that countless times, and succeeded each time! Why do you think I call you diosa?”

“Because you’re a blasphemous idiota?” Imelda smiled and winced.

“That,” Héctor laughed, “and because you are an inspiration Imelda. You inspire me every day! I wouldn’t be anything if it weren’t for you! So you just lean on me and break my hand if you want, but you can do this Imelda!”

Imelda huffed out a sigh “Alright…” And with that she pitched forward and pushed with all her might. She squeezed Héctor’s hand and screamed as the pain grew sharper, but she bore down and fought through it all. Suddenly she felt the same flush of relief and sank into Héctor’s embrace again as another cry filled the room, even louder than the first.

“Ay, Dios mio!” Héctor laughed at the volume of the baby’s cry. “That’s a future trumpet player right there!” Then something caught his eye and he gasped. “Ooh!... Oh, Imelda, it’s a boy! A boy!” He bounced again and jostled his exhausted wife. “We have a son, Imelda.”

Imelda opened one eye and frowned. “If he’s named Pancho, or Tiburcio, or Chucho or any other disgusting-“

“Mateo.” Héctor whispered and Imelda opened both eyes and stared at Héctor with wonder as he smiled down at her. “After Padre Mateo. The man who taught me to read, write and play guitar.”

“Oh, Héctor, he’ll love that when we tell him. That’s so thoughtful.” Imelda sighed. “I just picked Leticia because it was pretty.”

“It’s perfect.” Héctor said and kissed Imelda tenderly on the lips, and they both watched as their two children were bundled in warm blankets. “And it’s good that it’s a boy and a girl. I won’t have trouble telling them apart!”

Imelda laughed. “Héctor, they’re your children! You would know.”

“You can’t even tell your own brothers apart!” Héctor quipped.

“Well!-…” Imelda started to defend herself but then just sat back and glowered. “Maybe if they didn’t dress the same all the time…”

The babies were then presented to their parents and after Imelda was cleaned up the rest of the family was allowed into the room to visit. Coco was content with having a brother as long as she had her sister, so in the end it all worked well. Oscar and Felipe produced two new pairs of infant sized steel toe boots to the babies, and Héctor had to physically restrain Imelda to the bed to keep her from leaping at them. But soon the excitement faded and everyone drifted off to some much needed sleep.

All was right with the world.

#pixar coco #coco pixar #hector #hector rivera #mama imelda #imelda rivera #mama coco #coco fanfiction

69 notes · View notes

pinetreeoverme · 7 years

Text

Raise Hell

First off; Salaam Alaakum, United States! Been a hot minute.

Now that I’m back and got the obligatory ‘get fucking shitfaced’ portion of my return to the west done with, I think it’s about time to start posting fics again. Iraq was a hoot, had some good times, some bad times, and made a lot of friends amongst the local population.

Without further ado, Raise Hell. (It’s a song, Brandi Carlile. I’d suggest looking it up.)

The woman takes the stage, guitar held limply in one hand. The suit she wears is rumpled, and her tie is undone. In her other hand, she holds a freshly opened fifth of whiskey- when she sits on the stool in front of the microphone, she downs the bottle in a single long pull, not even wincing, to the cheers and jeers of the less cultured patrons. In this bar, there’s not many cultured ones.

Or innocent ones, for that matter.

Despite the surroundings, and her disheveled state, the woman’s brown eyes roam alertly over the crowd, and a slight smile plays over her lips. She begins to strum a twangy, upbeat tune on her guitar, humming in beat to the music.

When she starts singing, it’s a clear and cold clarion call, eyes focused somewhere in the distance.

“I been down with a broken heart since the day I learned to speak,” she sings, eyes narrowing. “The devil gave me a crooked storm when he gave me crooked feet, but Gabriel done came to me and kissed me in my sleep… And I’ll be sinning like an angel until the day I’m six feet deep.”

Wendy Corduroy grips the wheel of her beat-up sedan with one hand, her free fingers tapping a nervous beat on her thigh. The lights of the gas station are welcoming, if only for the promise of energy drinks or coffee- dark bags hang under the young woman’s eyes, and this is the first gas station she's seen in miles, but she’s resolved to press on gamely.

She’s got places to go, people to see, and things to do. A lot of that last one, actually.

The coffee and gas don’t cost much, and she steps outside, letting the winter chill bite into her skin. There’s a blonde man under the awning, staring out into the night with an expression that accurately sums up exactly how done with life Wendy feels at the moment.

How done with life, that is, when she’s not furiously, terrifyingly angry.

Or scared. She’s used to nerves, she’s hid them all her life, but this is something new.

The blonde man glances at her. “Hell of a night, huh?” he asks, eyebrow raised, voice made deeper and dryer by exhaustion.

“You’re telling me,” Wendy snorts, taking a sip of her coffee. She shivers a bit, but lets the chill sink into her bones, knowing it will help her stay awake. The scalding heat of the coffee helps counteract it, anyways. “Where you headed?”

“East,” the man grunts. “You?”

“South,” Wendy replies. There’s something comforting in such a banal conversation with a stranger.

The blonde man grunts. “Why south? Trying to get warmer?”

She shakes her head, and practices her lie. “Family kicked me out,” she says, wincing at how hollow it sounds, how the twins would never buy it. And how badly she needed them to buy it. It had been years, but… they had, in the words of someone somewhere at some time, seen some shit, and seen it together. That counted for a lot. “Well, I gotta keep moving. Drive safe, dude.”

The man nods, and replies the same. When Wendy’s tail lights recede in the distance, he pulls a phone from his pocket and makes a call.

“I found myself an omen and tattooed on a sign, I set my mind to wandering and walked a broken line. You have a mind to keep me quiet and although you can try, better men have hit their knees and bigger men have died.”

The crowd shifts, undercurrents of worry flowing through them, as the woman continues to sing. In the lighting, her eyes seem almost like liquid silver. “I’m gonna raise, raise hell,” she sings, voice rising loud enough to hurt.

A wistful smile comes over her face. “Go on and ring that bell.”

Jim Alvarez puts the phone away, glancing around Lazy Susan’s diner. “Girl’s on the move,” he says to Hammer, who’s occupying the seat next to him on the booth. The booth across the table from them remains empty, despite the fact that Hammer takes up ninety percent of a single booth. “Headed south.”

Hammer sighs, turning the page on his newspaper. “You were right,” he says, baritone voice rumbling. “That’s trouble.”

Jim snorts. “What isn’t, these days?” he asks.

“What’s your plan to counter it?” Hammer asks, almost mildly. Almost. There’s an undercurrent of tension in his voice.

Jim smiles without humor. “She decided to hit below the belt,” he says, gently taking the newspaper from the much larger man, closing it to the cover, and tapping on the cover photo. “Two can play at that game.”

Hammer raises his eyebrow. “What’re you going to tell them?”

Jim shrugs. “The truth.”

“Is that wise?”

He doesn’t answer. It’s not.

But they’re running out of cards to play.

“Showtime,” Hammer mutters, and both men rise to their feet as a woman comes through the door.

Hammer manages a cultured little bow Jim would never be able to manage in a million years, and gets one returned to him. Jim just meets the cool eyes staring back at him, and sticks out his hands to shake. “Miss Northwest,” he says, meeting her not-smile with his own. “Why don't you sit down? We have a lot to talk about.”

The first patron tries the door and finds it sealed shut, immovable, even under his brawny fists. The woman, eyes completely silver now, suit rippling in ways that shouldn’t be possible, smiles like a shark even as she sings.

“I came across a lightning strike and eyes of bright clear blue,” she wails, still grinning. “I took that tie from around my neck and gave my heart to you.”

“I sent my love across the sea and though I didn’t cry…”

“That voice will haunt my every dream until the day I die.”

Mabel snuggles a bit further into Dipper’s arms, mind still whirling.

Wendy. Coming down here, to find work. The girl hadn’t mentioned what was wrong the first time she called, or the second, just a few days later, but even though years had passed without contact, she still knew the older girl well enough to tell when the stress was leaking through.

The newfound contact was a bit of a sticking point with the ‘rents, though, and for once, Dipper had borne the brunt of it.

“Fuck Doc Caulk,” he had snarled, putting one hand down on the dining room table, eyes cool and hard, weathering the objections and disgusted sighs thrown his way. “I don't care what that crackpot of a therapist said.”

What the therapist had said, without using so many words, was that the twins needed to sever their connections not with Gravity Falls, but the friends they had made there. There was a reason the twins had lapsed into stubborn silence not too many sessions after that had been raised.

Despite the stubborn silence, though, they had allowed almost all contact to be severed, and that shame hung covered them both like a shroud during that argument.

Still, they had won, almost by default. Wendy was renting a short-term apartment in town, and the ‘rents really had no recourse short of confining the twins to the house.

Whatever’s bothering you, Wendy, Mabel vows, staring sightlessly at the flickering TV screen, pulling strength from her brother’s arm over her shoulder and his side against hers, we’ll fix it.

They would. They had to. That’s what the Mystery Twins did.

The bottle flies through the air, the aim straight and true. Beer slips from the top, pine wheeling in foaming arcs after it, and it crashes into the silver-eyed woman’s forehead in an explosion of shattering glass that could have downed a troll. She takes no notice.

“I dug a hole inside my heart to put you in your grave,” she calls, slowly standing from the stool. “At this point it was you or me, and mamma didn't raise no slave.”

The rancher is a big man, and his close-cropped hair reflects the moonlight like steel as he inspects his delivery.

His feet are braced, his eyes narrowed, jaw slowly clenching and unclenching in thought. He reeks of confidence, of easy strength, of a man who knew his way around the world and could take anything life dished his way with a smile.

In truth, he’s little more than a rat desperate to flee a sinking ship.

He opens the first massive box, and looks down at the massive man in plaid slumbering restlessly inside. A ghost of a whisper tumbles from slumbering lips, wreathed by a crimson beard showing the first signs of errant grey, and the rancher sighs.

“Take them downstairs,” he says quietly, grimacing. “Make them comfortable. They’ll be here a while.”

He blows out a long sigh, and closes his eyes. “If they’re lucky, they’ll stay asleep the whole time.”

The chirruping crickets in the grass seem to mock him and his men as they move the lumberjack and his family, and the moon stares down like an accusatory silver eye.

Fear builds in the crowd, and they rush her. She drops the guitar to meet them.

The song doesn’t stop.

“You took my face in both your hands and looked me in the eye… And I went down with such a force that in your grave I’ll lie.”

The screams of anger and pain rise, but never threaten to overwhelm the song. Not by half.

“You're sure?” Pacifica Northwest asks, eyes spearing into Jim.

“I am,” he replies easily.

Pacifica stares out at the night that had rapidly swallowed Gravity Falls. “If you’re telling the truth, and not mistaken- both big ifs, I should say- I don't see an easy way out of this trap.”

Jim shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m not sure I do, either.”

Pacifica drains her coffee and moves to stand. “I'll do my best to verify everything you’ve had to say. Until then…” She sighs, and some of the cultured accent slips from her voice. “I know her. She’ll figure out a way to fuck those assholes over. Trust Wendy, and trust the Pines.”

A weak smile dances around her lips. “After all, you said you made a deal not to talk to the twins. You never said anything about not talking to Wendy.”

She walks out without another word, and Jim blinks, mouth open. “Fucking rich people,” he says, eyes wide. “Hammer, we’ve been totally blind.”

“Raise hell,” Anubis mutters, stepping over bodies. The bar is empty, but for her.

No one had been able to leave.

Dipper centers himself, staring at the tree he’s chose as a target.

Ever since the fight with the ghoul, at Sam’s house, he had been building his skill with more… forceful… spells than simple witchfire.

Now he had to see if the practice worked or not. He extends one hand, slowly, the way the books had showed him, and he focuses on the tree, visualizing the impact.

“Left hook,” he whispers, and lets the power fly.

The outer bark of the tree shatters, sending splinters flying, and he allows himself a small, satisfied smile.

“Raise hell,” Anubis whispers again, striding through the unlocked door of the bar, feeling the flames start to rise behind her.

Wendy takes the steps to the front porch in one long stride, squinting in the early morning light, and knocks once.

She hasn't even put her arm down yet when the Pines Twins yank the door open, and they both spend a long moment cataloging the differences, big and small, between this moment and the moment they had left each other at the bus stop so long ago.

And then she’s been pulled into a firm embrace by both, and as her arms wrap around them, she-incredibly- feels a smile start to form on her own face.

Maybe things weren't so hopeless after all.

“Come on,” Anubis says, a humorless smile tweaking around her lips, the roaring fire from behind her casting shifting patterns over the Arizona desert. “Come on, and ring that bell.”

She laughs, as she begins to walk. First Jim. Then the twins, and the girl. Then, they could wipe this tiny little slate clean, and move to the next spinning clod of dirt.

And later, when they had accrued enough power? The Outsider itself would fall, would pay for the treachery it necessitated, the lives it had taken. It knows, in its own, unfeeling way, what she has planned, and it doesn't disapprove. Many had tried.

It was still there. Not much could threaten the storm.

“Now,” she whispers, “the game really begins.”

#OUTSIDER AU #And now the games really begin

28 notes · View notes

imaginestartrek · 7 years

Text

Prompt: A small mountain town finds themselves welcoming a new resident and his daughter, but what effect will this have on the other residents? On you? Welcome to Crawford. Word Count: 1062 Warnings: Just some fluff.... Author’s Note: Part 6!

@wonders-of-the-enterprise, you’re amazing and this header is amazing!

Masterlist

You hadn’t been expecting it, but when Leonard brought his mom to pick up Joanna with him you were more than pleased. “You must be Y/N and Oliver, it’s so good to finally meet you.”

“Mrs. McCoy, Leonard was so excited that you were coming.” The women wrapped her arms around you in a quick hug and pinched Oliver’s cheek, something you thought only happened in movies. “How do you like our little town so far?”

“Beautiful, very beautiful indeed. I can see why Len picked it, he’s always loved mountains.”

You mentioned how there was a trail somewhere nearby for some hiking but with the snow coming it would be closed up soon. “Oliver and I are going sometime soon, he only makes it a little bit up the mountain but it’s fun for him.”

“Len is making a fantastic dinner, barbecued pork! The sauce is all the way from Georgia. Why don’t you and Oliver join us? I’m sure Joanna would love it.” You weren’t sure if she was more excited for her granddaughter to have a friend, or for her son.

“Mama, relax. Y/N’s already been invited, they’re coming over a little bit later.”

Saying goodbye you ran Oliver home and gave him a quick bath, knowing that you’d be at dinner later than usual.

In the car ride home, Joanna talked all about school and what she was learning, but the moment she ran upstairs to get ready for dinner Leonard found his mother staring him down. “How long have you been here?”

“About a month I think, why?”

She followed him out into the backyard deciding to talk while he was lighting the grill. “And how long have you known that nice young lady?”

Dropping his head Leonard found himself laughing. “Mama, please don’t do this.”

“I saw the way you looked at her Len, you invited her to dinner with us in advance! Don’t tell me that you don’t like her.” When he didn’t answer her eyes lit up. “You do like her.”

“Mama, please don’t do this. I haven’t said anything about it to her, it’s not the right time.”

But that didn’t stop the matron, and Eleanora placed her fists right on her hips. “Is this about whats-her-face?”

“Jocelyn has nothing to do with this.” Bringing up his ex-wife was never a fun experience, especially since his mom had such strong feelings about her. “Her husband died a few years ago, just because I’m ready to move on doesn’t mean she is.”

Knowing that she was right, Eleanora moved for the stairs to go help Joanna. “I guess you’ll never know until you find out, then.”

Leonard was out back flipping the vegetables when you arrived, he only knew because Joanna and Oliver flew through the door ready to play. “I asked your mom if there was anything I could do to help and she said to bring you this.”

The beer was cold, it had come right from the fridge. “That was nice of you, cheers.”

Ignoring the smirk from her Leonard decided instead to talk about how a bunch of equipment was arriving the following week. “So you’ll be able to do x-rays now?”

“Sure will, I really should get a nurse who knows how to cast but for right now it’s a start knowing if a bone is broken or not and being able to splint it.”

When the food was almost ready and the kids were called to wash up, you found a way to help by setting the table and getting drinks for everyone. “Mrs. McCoy, what would you like?”

“Oh please peaches, call me Ellie.” Her smile was infectious and when Leonard came back in carrying a platter of barbecue he couldn’t help but join in.

“What are you two going on about in here?”

Ellie took the silverware out of your hands and passed them along to the kids to set up. “Actually, I was about to ask what Y/N does. Tell us all about you dear.”

“Mama…”

You shook your head at the warning tone. “Right now I’m waitressing at the diner, there isn’t much around here as far as job prospects go unless you work on one of the farms.”

“Couldn’t you take over some of the management of the farms though? That’s what you said your degree was in, right?” Ellie looked between the two of you smiling. “I’m sure at least one of them needs managed.”

“Most of them are owned and operated by the same people, they wouldn’t give that up. Those animals the ranchers have are their livelihood, no way they’re going to let someone else run it.”

Leonard shook his head almost disappointed at the idea. “Even someone with a degree like yours.”

You spent the rest of the meal telling them about your time on the East Coast, how you had managed with school, and what you did in Boston after graduation. They told you what it was like in Georgia and you compared the weather easily enough.

“Have you ever had fresh peach cobbler Y/N?” Shaking your head no Ellie looked almost shocked. “Next time I come I’ll have to bring some peaches and make it for ya’ll, I know Joanna loves it.”

Leonard brought over refills for the three of you and decided to shift the conversation to tell his mom about all the things the kids had done together using the laughter from the family room as an example.

“We should get going, Oliver has the day with his grandmother tomorrow so he needs some sleep.” Saying goodnight and thanking them for dinner you drove home.

Joanna was humming to herself playing with her dolls and Ellie took her chance. “Tonight was nice.”

“Mama, please don’t try to sell me on the ‘being a family’ thing.” Her eyes widened and Leo nodded. “Uh huh, I know your tricks. Stop meddling.”

But when Leonard crawled into bed that night he stared at the ceiling for a while replaying dinner over in his mind. It had been him and Joanna truly alone for the past year, but it had been them against the world for so much longer. Now that they had you and Oliver it felt like things were changing, like he was finally feeling that piece he had missed filling back up.

Tags: @trekken81 @fandomheadrush @outside-the-government @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @whatif-animagineblog @leashab @imagineangryspacegrump @supermoonpanda @thundergirl007 @sesshomaru-lover @dudahmautner @superwholockgeekgirl4life @feelmyroarrrr @8bit-arc-reactor @theclonewarss @youre-on-a-starship @yourtropegirl @southernbellestatues @rayleyanns @superwholock734 @randomlittleimp @the-mormon-girl-in-the-books

#doctor leonard mccoy #doctor mccoy #Dr. Leonard McCoy #leonard mccoy #mccoy #bones #crawford #au series #part 6 #damnit man

50 notes · View notes

cddump · 7 years

Text

Again (Sitting six. 2506 words)

Noises of a tapping keyboard filled the room. Casper's shoulder was painfully stiff, and he shifted himself so his entire body's weight wasn't on it. This lead to him laying on his stomach instead of side, which also eased a pain in his back that he had been suffering as it had been leaning against a metal bed frame. He heard soft and high pitched voices in a language he couldn't understand as he rubbed his head against the carpet. There was something small and hard on his cheek. It smelled like watermelon but he ignored it. The sound of the tapping keyboard caught his attention again. “Crystal,” he said without thinking. No, that wasn't right. Crystal's electric piano had a heavier sound to it when she used it. Whenever she used headphones while playing, Casper could clearly hear the heavy keys as they pressed into place as she played to herself. She always did complain that an electric keyboard wasn't as good as the real deal. Something about how real pianos have a certain depth to them. You could press them lightly for a soft sound or harshly for a loud one. Piano Forte. The tapping had stopped. Casper opened his eyes. The TV in front of him showed a colorful scene of a flower-filled backdrop as animals with ridiculously silly proportions danced in a circle as Japanese font scrolled down the screen. “Credits.” He sat up and nearly toppled over himself as he did so. Casper pulled the watermelon-scented object that had stuck to his face and found it to be a Jolly Rancher. Unfazed, he tossed it back to the ground and rubbed his cheek clean with his sleeve. Casper grabbed the bed for support, though he heard a woman's quick cry as he leaned over it. On the other side of the bed sat Ash by her computer, looking terrified. Casper yawned. Ash pulled a stuffed turtle over her face in response. “Hi. I slept through the episode. Sorry.”

“Y-you! You s-slept through a ton of episodes! L-like, the entire season!” Ash pulled down the turtle as she said this, and Casper could clearly see her face reddening. Whoops. He shrunk behind the bed and made himself look as small as possible. “Bad time?” He could only guess what she was looking at. While he slept on her floor. Talk about creepy. “Wh-wh-what do you mean?” “I know what kind of uh...'genres' of this stuff you watch when you're alone, so--” “What?! You really think I'd watch yaoi while someone else was in the room?!” “I mean, you bought the stuff in a public store, so why not?” “No! I'm writing a review!” Casper stood and walked towards the computer. His legs cracked audibly as he moved. Floors were always too stiff for a good rest. “Review for wh--?” “Ahaaa! Stay...don't get too close please...!” Casper stopped as he reached the corner of the bed closest to her. “What?” “I...I have anxiety.” “Anxiety?” “Yeah. I'm...I-I'm anxious. About you being here, I think.” “Really? Why?” Ash was flabbergasted. “Why am I anxious?! Because I have anxiety!” “No, I--” Casper's palm landed squarely on his face. “I mean why are you weirded out by me now?” Ash's voice suddenly became high pitched, “Because a guy I've only known for a few minutes fell asleep in my room and just woke up from like, a five hour nap!” Casper's ears rang. Her voice could make a puppy howl as if it had heard a dog whistle. “But you were fine inviting me in?” “For one episode! I didn't realize you'd fall asleep here!” Casper sat on the bed's corner. “Yeah sorry, I--” “Off the bed! Please!” She added as Casper shot upwards. “Guy. On my bed. Gives me...scary and not-so-good thoughts.” Casper rubbed his forehead, unsure of anything that was going on. This felt like one of his sleep deprived dreams. “I-I'm not gonna do anything to you!” “I know! I think? No, I don't know! I've only known you for like, thirty waking minutes!” “Okay, okay. Bed's off limits. Got it.” He sighed. At least he wasn't as tired as he was earlier. That nap seemed to have done the trick for the moment. “So what are you reviewing?” “Huh? Oh, I-I review Japanese media. Like, anime, manga, drama shows, that kind of thing.” Casper peered into the monitor. {Kayabashi} : [THERE'S A GUY ASLEEP IN MY ROOM WHAT DO I DOOOO Σ(°△°|||)] {Kuma Kona} : [what? That sounds like the start of a doujin] {Kayabashi} : [DON'T MAKE THIS WEIRDER THAN IT ALREADY IS I HAVE A REAL PROBLEM!!!] {Kuma Kona}: [suck his **** lol :P] {Kayabashi} : [NOOOOOOOoooo y u do this. ur no help. ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡ ] Casper covered his mouth and and stifled a laugh as he read the first few lines of the messenger on the screen. Ash followed his gaze and screamed as she covered the monitor with her hands. “Don't look at that! Oh my god, how much of that did you read?!” “Enough to know it wasn't a review. What's a doujin?” “Don't act like you don't know!” Casper let out a legitimate laugh as Ashley tapped the off button. The monitor went black immediately, leaving only the few streaks of sunlight that broke through the closed blinds as the sole light source. “I'm gonna have a panic attack,” she said. “...I'm sorry,” Casper told her. “Really. I didn't mean to be a dick when I woke up. I...also didn't mean to fall asleep in the first place. Whoops.” “Nooo... It's fine.” Ash pulled her feet on her chair and hugged her knees, blocking half her face from Casper. “I messed up and should have let you go home to sleep. Sorry.” Casper ran his fingers through his hair nervously. ...What now? “Who's Crystal?” “Huh? Oh, Crystal's—” “Fuck, that was nosy. Sorry, you mumbled it when you were asleep but that was so nosy of me sorry sorry—” “No, it's fine. Really. She's my sister. Twin sister. Here, look.” Casper pulled out his phone and showed Ash his lock screen. He had set it to a picture of himself, his sister Crystal, and her best friend Zoey. Like Casper, Crystal shared his tanned skin and black hair. However while Casper's eyes were a dull brown, Crystal's were an impossible purple color. “Oh my god her eyes are so pretty! Are those contacts? Does she cosplay?!” “No nothing like that. She was just born with purple eyes. We always joke that she has Alexandria's Genesis, but the doctors said she just had some lucky mutation or something? I don't know, it's complicated science stuff that never makes sense to me.” “But you're twins, right? Where are your purple eyes?” “I left them in my other pants, what do you think? I wasn't lucky enough to get them. Hell, we're lucky that mutation or whatever didn't blind her. That's our friend Zoey in the picture. My sister plays the piano and Zoey plays the violin. They moved out a few months ago to try and get a career going. Last time I asked they were playing at different coffee shops.” Casper smiled sadly. “Somehow I don't think that was what they had planned.” “So you both moved out and left your parents, huh?” “Well, our mom, yeah. Dad passed away when I was young.” “Oh! S-sorry, I didn't know...” Casper held his hand up, but all he said was, “Don't worry about it.” “O...okay. Um...I'm unlocking your tragic backstory, right?” Casper blinked. “...What?” “This is...this is how it works, right?” Ash stood up and took a step towards Casper. “In all the visual novels and manga. A new person moves in and interrupts the normal flow of everyday life for one person. They get to know each other and learn about their sad pasts, and at the end they...” Ash trailed off as she took another step. “But I want to skip past all that.” Casper stepped backwards. Every step she made, he countered with one of his own. “Uh-huh... Sorry, I'm lost. What are we talking ab--” “Jasper! Be my boyfriend!” There was a long awkward silence as Casper's brain caught up. As soon as it did, it fell flat and had to start over. “Please!” “No.” The word struck Ashley like a baseball crashing through a window. “What?! Why not?!” “There are a million reasons!” “Name one!” “My name isn't 'Jasper!'” “What.” “It's Casper! You don't even know my name!" Casper counted off his fingers as he went on: "We've only known each other for half an hour, I think your hobby has taken over your life in a creepy manner, and I think we'd barely get along as friends! You know that outburst from this morning? Yeah, that's not the first one I've had and it sure as shit ain't gonna be the last.” “Why don't you think we'd be friends?!” Ash had fallen forwards, gripping Casper's shirt. He grabbed her fingers to try and pry her off, though she misread it as him trying to hold her hands. Once she tried to weave their fingers together, he let go and dropped her. “That's the part that bothers you? Not the life-destroying hobby part?!” “Tell me what I can do! What's your type?! Tsundere? I can do that! Starting tomorrow I can act like that!” “What the FUCK are you talking about?” Casper started walking out of the room, but Ash grabbed his right foot and was dragged along. “What about yandere? Is that what you're into?” “I don't even know what that one is!” “Give me something, Casper! WORK WITH ME HERE!” Her sobs filled the room as Casper forced his way towards the front door. “This isn't some shitty graphic novel!" He grunted. “There's no 'story' going on here and if there was, my story wouldn't be a love story!” “What kind of story would it be then?!” “One where I'm better than her!” He cried as Ash shifted her weight to slow Casper down. “Her?! Her who?” “Who do you th—oh forget it. Listen, if you want someone to like you, you can't just look for shortcuts. You just act normal!” “I DON'T KNOW HOW TO ACT NORMAL.” “YEAH I KNOW. I figured that out just a while ago, thanks! Just be yourself!” “BUT MYSELF IS AN IDIOT.” “YEAH I KNOW THAT TOO!” Casper had reached the front door and had opened it. The afternoon light poured into the darkened apartment. “You know what I think?” He said as he shook her off his foot. “I think you've gone too deep with this anime stuff. You can't see reality from fantasy anymore and need a wake up call.” With that, Casper walked out the door and slammed it closed, leaving Ash sobbing on the ground. Casper walked up another flight of stairs. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered to himself. What the hell was up with these people? First a conspiracy nut and now this? What was next, an ex-animal trainer with a pet lion? Casper gripped the railing as he made his way up. He was going to pay Chandra a visit and tell him about the encounter he had with his daughter. Surely this wasn't the first time she had done something like this, maybe her dad could straighten her out. Just as Casper reached the third floor above Ash's apartment, he ran into Chandra himself. “Ah, young Casper! How do you do?” The land owner asked as he held one hand over the other. “Yeah, hey how's it going. Listen, we gotta talk. I was just with Ash a bit ago--” “Ah, my sweet habibi. I hope you two are getting along.” “That's the thing, I--” “Oh forgive me. I must hurry to see her. She has forgotten her medication, you see.” “Her...wait, her medication?” “Yes, she—oops. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that.” Chandra moved his hands to reveal a transparent orange bottle filled with small round pills inside them. “I shouldn't go into details, but she hasn't taken them in a few days. I am not sure if she's simply forgotten, but I found them in my area. I suspect she's been without them for a while. Without them she has...unhealthy thoughts.” Casper froze. She mentioned she had anxiety, but what if there was something else? He didn't know anything about her, what if she had depression on top of that? Or some kind of disease? “Oh shit.” He suddenly remembered how he had let her fall to the ground. How he had left her crying and sobbing as he walked away. Ice filled his veins as he stiffened. What if. What if she had been standing on an edge. What if the medication was her safety rail. And he had just given her a shove. “Oh no. Oh shit, no.” “Young Casper? Are you--” Casper yanked the pill bottle from Chandra's hands and raced down the stairs. “No no no no no.” He jumped down the last three steps and collided with the opposing wall before jolting down the next staircase. Images of Ash holding a knife flooded his brain. Blood. Lots of blood. “No, please god no.” And it'd be on his hands. He would have driven her to this. Another flight of stairs came and went and Casper darted down the hallway. The sunlight that bathed the room through the large windows cast tall shadows into the hall, one of which covered Ash's doorway. “Oh fuck. Please no. Please no, I'm sorry, please,” Casper panted as he ran towards the darkened door. Without a second's hesitation, he burst into the room, terrified what he would discover. “Ashley?! Ashley!” The living room was empty and dark. Just like before, the windows were covered by the shutter blinds. “I'm sorry. Please be okay, oh god.” The kitchen was empty, though Casper saw a single drawer filled with kitchen utensils—including knives—was left open. “Oh my god, no no no no.” Artificial computer light streamed from Ash's door, which was left ajar. Without wasting any time, Casper rushed into the room and slammed it open. “Ashley!” She was in the computer chair, knife pointed downwards, towards her chest. “Stop! Don't do it! I'm sorry, please!” Ash's eyebrow rose as the chair swiveled around. In her other hand, close her chest, was an apple. Freshly sliced. “Don't do what?” She asked. The room was silent, save for Casper's labored breaths as he bent forward, trying to catch his breath. “Christ. Thank fuck. You're okay.” “...Why wouldn't I be?” Casper held the orange pill bottle in the air and shook it. Ash reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out another bottle, filled with the exact same pills. She shook it in a matter-of-fact manner, confused. Casper collapsed against the wall. “You suck,” he wheezed. “You suck so much. You don't...you don't even know how much...hah...pfft hahah.” He couldn't help it. Casper burst into laughter as Chandra entered the room. “Is...is everything alright?” He asked. Ash only shrugged, obviously confused at the whole situation. Casper didn't help any as he continued his laughing fit. He handed the orange bottle back to Chandra. “Everything's daijoubu.”

#writing #my writing #right write #fiction #humor #slice of life #lightly edited #insomnia #anxitey #otaku

0 notes

thepanda-co-blog · 7 years

Text

Story Time

The Smoking Dagger

Characters:

1. Alice Cooper - 35, HR Analyst from D.C. 2. Nicholas Hastings - 53, co-worker from D.C. 3. Janett Roche - 33, Alice’s best friend and co-worker from D.C. 4. Michal Green - 28, Janett’s friend from D.C. who works at Coach 5. Aunt Mae - 75, Alice’s aunt 6. Samantha Richards - Ranchers 7. Keith Richards - Ranchers

Alice Cooper was going to visit her family in Montana for a few week, they didn’t know she was coming. She has been planning this surprise for a month now. She had been saving up her leave days for a while now and she had to use them soon or they would be wasted. She has been working as an HR Analyst in D.C. for almost five years. She is one of their best analyst and is highly depended on which is a benefit for her, she is working on a promotion and asking her bosses job in the next year. She is a very sharp witted woman for being on thirty-five-years-old, but she has to be in a highly male driving career. She has notice that a few of her fellow co- workers have been trying cause her to “slip up”. A few of her co-workers that are older than her don’t show her much respect because of her age especially Nicholas Hastings, being fifty-three. He feels that he should be the taking over their bosses job, now it’s a race to see who can get there first. You can see the mischief in his eyes when his gaze sweeps over to Alice, but he tries to hide it although Alice can see it before he looks away. Janett Roche who is thirty-three, Alice’s best friend and a serious gossip, can see Nicholas from her cubicle across the room. She just grinned feeling she had a new hot story to tell and new questions to ask Alice before she took her leave Saturday April Eighth, which was tomorrow, she wouldn’t be back until April sixteenth. She took out her phone to text Michal Green about the latest gossip she was witnessing, who was a good friend of hers. He didn’t work in their office, which was something she was wished he did, but it wasn’t so bad since he was a hot young twenty-eight-year-old employee in Coach, which was one of her favorite stores. Michal was always up to date on the latest fashion news, which she saw as a benefit.

It was Saturday and Alice was on a plane to Montana meanwhile, back in D.C. the gossip storm was swirling. Her phone kept pinging and her phone was filling with texts asking questions about the gossip. Oh what a mess it will be when Alice returns, she just let out a sigh and shook her head as she turned off her phone and looked out the window. Leaning her head against the nice cool window she then closed her eyes and thought about her Aunt Mae, her horses and dark red house, and most of all the smell of her peach cobbler and apple pie sitting on the window sill. She always opened the kitchen window, letting the nice spring breeze in when she was in the kitchen. She says she loves the breeze because it smelled of flowers, but all I could smell was the horse poop unless there was a pie on the window sill. She smiled thinking of this as the flight attendant asked if she would like anything to drink with her meal. “Huh? Oh yes, I would like a Mimosa please.” she asked. The attendant made and gave her her food before going to the next passenger.

Three hours later the plane finally landed in Arlee, Montana, Alice looked up waiting for the seat belt sign light to go out so she could work the hustle and bustle trying to get her luggage. After what seemed like forever, which was really only five minutes, she got up and took her small bags from the overhead compartment and made her way into the airport so she could wait on her luggage. Thirty minutes went by before their conveyor belt began to move and luggage started to come off the plane. When Alice saw her two bright red suitcases at the end of the line she quickly got a cart to put her bags on. She got one bag, but struggled a little “Here, let me help you.” a voice behind her said as they picked up her bag and put it on the cart and they helped her with the next. When both bags were on the cart she turned around as she said “Thank you”. She and lost her breath as she look up and saw a gorgeous tall lean fit young man who looked to be about her age, long golden hair with light brown streaks, and cool gray eyes. He smiled at her noticing her long stare before he spoke saying “Your welcome, my name is Keith Richards, and this is my sister Samantha.” Alice looked behind him and noticed a young woman who also shared the same blonde hair, gray eyes, and lean body. His sister smiled at her Alice now looking at the both of them thought that they must be in the fashion industry as models. During their conversation she found out that they were really ranchers which reminded her of her Aunt Mae “It was nice speaking with you, I have to go. Hopefully we’ll meet again soon.” said Alice with a warm smile on her face. They then exchanged numbers before she left to go get a rental car.

Aunt Mae’s house made with what looked to be yellow bricks with sheer white curtains blowing in the window that had teal shutters and daisies growing in the window box. The horses stood in the open corral eating the sweet spring grass and the apples that fell from the tree. Just looking at the home gave Alice a smile as she drove up the stone driveway. She could picture her Aunt Mae still at seventy-five years-old still always in the kitchen wearing her favorite long blue dress with pictures of daisies on it, her white apron with ruffles on the trim, with her white hair neatly curled. She parked the car and knocked on the door with excitement, a few minutes have passed and there was no answer. She knocked a gain, but a little harder. The door opened a bit and Alice drew in her breath in fear. She pushed opened the door slowly “Aunt Mae!” she called hoping for an answer as she walked in the house and began to search every room starting with the kitchen, her favorite room. She figured with a lot of hope that she just came in the house from picking apple and just forgot to lock the door, but when she could not find her in the kitchen she began to become filled with fear which grew when she did not see her anywhere else in the house. She went outside to look in the cellar where she stores her jams, when she pulled the cord to turn on the light she let out a blood chilling scream. “Aunt Mae!!!” Her aunt lied in a pool of her own blood among broken jars of jam. Alice looked around the cellar and she kneeled next to her aunt crying uncontrollably. She pulled her up and held her tightly when she noticed a stab wound in her thigh. Alice turn her aunt over laying her aunts head in her lap and saw multiple stab wounds. She gasped and cover her mouth with her hand, “Oh my -” she managed to say before she choked on her tears while they ran down her cheeks. “What happened? Who could do such a thing?” She thought to herself. As Alice wiped the tears from her eyes she saw a glimmer coming from under one of the shelves holding the many jars of jam. Gently resting her aunts head on the floor she went over to the shelf and kneeled down pulled out what was glimmering to find the dagger. She immediately dropped it letting it fall on the floor when she noticed a symbol of a stallion and the letters “SMC” on the handle. “SMC?” She said to herself as she wondered what it stood for.

And the mystery begins…

#mystery #suspense #romance #love #murder #detective #cowboy #rancher #western #montana #open rp #rp #rp related #rp request #stories #story #storytelling #story time #story telling #role play

0 notes