#her entire ranch burnt down

[pinkysberg]

sumn i half resent is this idea that sadie's husband dying is "90% of her motivation" or whatever. because while yes, being a vengeful widow is definitely a huge aspect of sadie's character, she lost a lot more than her husband. she lost her entire life. she lost her home, her security, her very way of life. she is more than just a wife and she makes that very clear. i understand that her grief and vengeance on behalf of jake is very real and integral to what motivates sadie. but she isn't just grieving jake.

[justawanderer]

The Mage’s Keep

A Magical Sanctuary for those Burnt Out on Life

Alec slams the car door a little too aggressively. He takes a deep breath and pinches his nose bridge to center himself. He takes a sip of the surprisingly delicious gas station coffee and refuses to feel guilty. He ignores the voices in his head of his doctors, his siblings, and his parents and enjoys the warm cup in his hands.

The coffee is Not what gave him an ulcer that presented as a cardiac event at the tender age of 27. No, he’s been drinking coffee since high school without issue….okay, maybe middle school…no one’s counting.

Anyway, point is, it wasn’t the coffee, it was the fault of the twenty people in Alec’s unit of the law firm who fucked up the County’s jump start to school initiative that Alec had spent all of the previous summer fighting to take lead on. His team fucked the paperwork up so grandly that the contract had to be pushed back a whole fucking year and now an entire grade of elementary schoolers in the city will be without the free laptops they were promised. And thinking about it is raising Alec’s blood pressure and he has to take a few more breaths to calm down.

The problem had been half of his team being freshly graduated lawyers from Harvard who only got there through daddy’s money and therefore having not a winks worth of intelligence in any of them. And the other half of his team being a group of raging racist bigots who intentionally sunk the program. He rubs his temples and tries to remember that his partner Lydia and his manager Jia both assured him that the problem would be fixed when he got back from his doctor recommended time off. The discovery of the sabotage and the people behind it-on the day it was to be sent to back to the county for official signing had lead to Alec keeling over in pain and waking up in the ER. Every single person in his life then took it upon themselves to ensure he’d make the most of the mandatory 2 weeks relaxation the doctor prescribed.

Which is how he found himself in this godforsakenly small car with no phone and an address preplugged into his gps. Izzy had been insistent that the retreat she had found was exactly what Alec needed and her and Jace and even his mom had all chipped in to pack him up and get him shipped out. If it wasn’t for all of them insisting that they had prepaid and max giving him the biggest sad eye in history-Alec would have turned around and checked into a hotel by the shore like he originally planned-with good WiFi and his work computer-but Lydia had taken his gear, and jia banned him from the premises for the foreseeable future and his dad packed the car and they all sent him off.

He just wishes they would have asked him about it. He hates the out doors-except the beach-but a two week stay at ranch upstate is not the beach vacation he would have preferred. Besides, don’t those ranchers hate gay people? Okay-he recognizes that that in itself is prejudiced but still-why should be be shipped 5 hours upstate to shovel horseshit when he’s in recovery? His doctor had the fucking nerve to nod vehemently in agreement to the retreat Izzy had presented him with on Alec’s behalf. So Alec is pissed about work, pissed about this retreat, and pissed that everyone in his life, including his parents have teamed up to send him away. He’s also a little pissed that they had the nerve to find him a retreat for and run by queer people. By a doctor who had had too much city life and opened a health retreat upstate.

It would be brilliantly diabolical if it wasn’t happening to him.

So instead of being impressed, he’s rage drinking his stupidly good trucker coffee and driving to the middle of bumfuck nowhere and going to have to pretend to not be terrified of horses, and horse shit, and who he is assuming are tough as nails butch lesbians taking care of said horses.

He angrily rakes a hand through his hair and calls himself out for his misogyny and assumptions. Anger turns him into his father and even his father has turned around. His new wife Annamarie is definitely the reason. His dad even paid for this retreat. Alec just likes to find reasons to hate things that don’t go his way. Which is right out of the Robert Lightwood playbook and whole turning into his father thing is not helping his blood pressure or his nerves.

The drive is mostly quiet, Alec not quite able to listen to anything and only just managing to abate his own feelings. He looks at the picturesque farmland around him and sighs. It’s beautiful….if you’re into it. He allows himself that he’s here voluntarily, if anything goes south or he really just can’t, then he’ll hop back in the car and drop down to the shore. And try to call Underhill and guilt the guy into faxing him work.

He nods at his improvised plan as he reaches the Mage’s Keep Ranch and rolls his eyes at the arcane symbols carved into the ranch sign that is also decorated with numerous pride flags and rainbows. He is pleasantly surprised by the polished look of the ranch and the numerous buildings on the grounds. Signs point him to a main building off set from what appears to be a large stable. He can see people riding horses and being coached by ranchers on the ground.

The clean earth smell that greets him when he steps out of the car is a surprise and he grudgingly admits to himself that he likes the fresh air. A beautiful woman with deep dark skin and long white braids smiles at him and waives him up the main building’s stair.

“Welcome to the Keep. I am Cat, I run the lodge for our guests. I am assuming your Mr. Lightwood?” Her smile is warm and welcoming and Alec smiles back, following her into the lodge.

“Your room is on the second floor, just up those stairs and down the hall on the right. Go ahead and get settled, your family paid for a suite so all of your towels and such will be in the bathroom. We serve dinner from 5-7 and you’re welcome at anytime. You can even take your food to your room or on the grounds if you wish. Your itinerary isn’t set in stone, but your sister I believe? Isabel? Informed me of some of the activities you may want to try so I curated a list for you. I have you set for archery tomorrow morning at our spring side range and a cooking class before lunch here at the main hall, then a few hours to rest and then a sunset ride for you. After that, you can pick and choose your activities for the rest of your stay.”

Alec is speechless, he had been terrified of force labor and group talking therapy but this really just sounds like a vacation. Not wanting to jinx anything, he takes his bags to his rooms, showers and then promptly crashes onto his bed.

He wakes up once, around midnight, groggy and alarmed by his unfamiliar surroundings. It all comes back to him as he turns on the bedside lamp.

Curious, he sees through the open bedroom door that a tray has been left on his sitting room table. He ambles out, sees a charcuterie board filled with heart healthy snack foods and what was once cold juice, but now room temp. There is card on the tray:

Alexander,

Welcome to the Mage’s Keep. I am sorry to have missed you at dinner, fear not, many of our guests sleep through their first night with us. This keep has healing magic if you let it. You will get all of the rest that you need here. I have left you a sampling of hand foods following your sister’s guidance, if you require anything else feel free to look around the kitchens.

I look forward to meeting you tomorrow.

Sleep well,

M

The letter is written it beautiful script on a piece of stationary with an embossed Dr. Bane at the top. Alec rolls his eyes at the pretension but does nibble on the food. After eating his fill and guiding himself through a stretch, he falls back asleep and dreams of demons and battles and magic and cat eyes.

The following day is one of the most relaxing yet invigorating days Alex can remember having. He wakes with the sun, runs around the whole of the perimeter of the ranch, enjoys the best whole wheat pancakes he’s ever had courtesy of Cat and hits every bullseye at the archery range under the watchful eye of a curmudgeonly Dr Fell who ensures he doesn’t over do it. He is walked through a delicious cooking class by a witty and charming Tessa and then spends the afternoon reading a book he had bought years before and never gotten around too. The other guest weren’t even as annoying as he thought they’d be. It seems as if everyone was healing from burnout or extreme work stress. Some of them had even had serious health incidents like Alec. But his first day had truly relaxed him.

Well, at the least the first part had. He was doing his very best to not think of the sunset ride and was trying to think of all of the logical reason he had for not needing to be on horse back. He’s arguing quietly with himself as he ambles down to the stable, surprised that he’s alone apparently for this activity. He comes to the open doors and sees empty stalls. They put him at ease as he cautiously walks through. Maybe the other people riding were already out. Which is a relief because he would not want the snarky teen punk Gretel-who was sent here by her parents after having a meltdown over college admissions packets- to see him fall off a horse.

A soft snicker brings his attention to the roan head sticking out at the end of the row. The horse is eyeing him and even if he doesn’t have any desire to ride her, he can appreciate her gentle beauty. He inches as close as he dares and exhales. “Hi beautiful” the horse lets out a whinny and tosses her head back.

“She’s asking if you have any apples to spare.” Says possibly the most alluring melodic voice Alec has ever heard. He turns as see a man hunched over a phone. He’s in jeans and a white tank with a large cowboy hat covering his face. Alec has to swallow three times to get moisture back in his throat at the sight of the man’s arms.

The man in question tips his hat with long delicate fingers calloused from hard work. He pulls his hat off and Alec has to touch his chest for the violent hard beat his heart skips at the sight of the most beautiful man he’s ever encountered. He feels his face drop into a dopey smile as the man smirks at him and stands up, almost to Alec’s own height.

“Delilah is a fiend for apples, she now thinks you have one.” The man moves closer to palm the horses noses. He fishes a green apple out of a side bag and hands it to Alec. Enchanted by why can only be a demo god before him, Alex reaches out for the apple. The man smiles, turns Alec’s hand palm up and places the apple there. He continues to hold Alec’s palm still as Delilah leans down to snatch it softly out of Alec’s hand. Her soft lips tickling his palm. Alec has too many emotions and sensations warring inside of him to panic.

He smiles, first at Delilah, and then at the mystery man still holding his wrist. The man speaks.

“Your sister Isabelle, was very thorough not only in the parameters for your menu, but also about how inspite of her belief that this place was for you, that you are scared of horses.”

Alec can feel the blush rush all over his face and neck. Made worse by the apparent appraisal of the man before him. The cowboy twists Alec’s hand around to be able to cup it in both of his calloused hands. Alec’s blush deepens at the wildly inappropriate intrusive thought his brain sends him about what those hands would feel like elsewhere. He clears his throat.

“Ah, not so much scared,” he says trying in vain to save face. “But uh, just not interested in getting on one.”

The man smiles. “Well, I’m sure we can find a ride for you. This place has a way of helping us all bend in the ways we need to.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Magnus, Magnus Bane. The founder of the Keep.”

Alec would blush even further at the fact that they never let go of each other in the first place, to be able to facilitate at handshake. If it weren’t for the appreciative up and down look the Doctor was giving him. The man’s warm hands in his had him convinced he could actually feel magic all around him, and Alec wondered if two weeks here would be enough.

@just-add-butter 🤷🏼‍♀️ this is your fault, your welcome.

[kokorowoutsu]

-- RP: @mystical-strawberry-sheep

mystical-strawberry-sheep:

Aku looked up from the little Darumaka that was steadily letting off a stream of protests to the young lady standing above her. It was only then that she started coming back to the real world enough to consider the position she was in. Where was she? Where had she come off to? And as she blinked up at the other, a bit of blood began rolling down the side of her face from somewhere beneath her bangs.

"Oh, hello,” Aku chirped politely, despite being covered in scrapes and burns. “We were practicing. I’m sorry, are we not supposed to be here? We might’ve gotten a little carried away back there, but he’s fine now, see?”

She took the round pokemon in her arms and lifted him up to show him off to the other, and delighted by the motion he waved his arms. Even for a Darumaka, this one was particularly small, but that didn’t seem to reflect in his power at all. Even though he hadn’t evolved, he was quite the trained up little powerhouse. And like his trainer, he didn’t seem at all weary of the stranger he was facing or feel protective at all. Either they were both confident in their abilities to protect themselves, or they were both so empty-headed that they didn’t realize the situation they were in.

And based on Aku’s cluelessness, it would be easy to reach the latter conclusion…

“It took a few, but I got him some potions and he’s all better,” Aku continued, rocking the Darumaka in her hands like a doll.

This woman was clueless, wasn’t she? Didn’t she even bother to think that normal humans would be burnt alive by a Flare Blitz? With a sigh -- a deep one -- Ashe shakes her head and rubs her temples. Lowering said hand, she takes a moment to look towards the person before her now. Said woman wasn’t supposed to be here for reasons obvious and she was prepared to have her Mismagius which was lurking in her shadows wipe her memories and see her off, but the blood had her concerned.

Looking to Miraidon... Pollux as he was nicknamed, the pokemon gave a mechanical trilled ‘Giiiias’ at her.

“Query: What will be done with this human?” He asked to which Ashe sighed. “Might as well get her cleaned up first. We don’t want the blood rousing up the Pack.” With that, she looked to Lucky who approached then, gently wrapping a ribbon around Aku’s arm. ‘This way.’ His voice was loud and clear and inviting on top of that... and there was a very unusual aura being let out by everyone now -- something that wasn’t entirely human. “Come with us back to the house. After we tend to the blood, you can be on your way.”

Fae abilities were being used, and if anyone knew the Fairfolk, it was a way of ‘spiriting away’ someone... however, for Ashe it was all about the safety of the ranch -- especially for pokemon like the one who appeared to be a robotic dragon-type behind her.

@mystical-strawberry-sheep​​

[lost-technology]

Innocence

Tri-Tober Fanfic shorts Prompt 8: Angel Setting: All canons Summary: The first time Milly Thompson saw a Plant Angel, she was five years old

Innocence  Every year, the entire Thompson family made a special pilgrimage.  Every few months, at least a few members of their clan had to go into town to get supplies for the ranch, but it was only once a year when they’d gathered up absolutely everyone in the family trucks to make this special trip.  For little Milly it was always an adventure to go “into town.”  “Town” was a mysterious place – so big and wonderous, a place much bigger than the ranch and with so many more people and buildings other things to see.  The town wasn’t anywhere the size of any of the Seven Cities being an outskirt-village, but for a child who lived “way out in the middle of nowhere,” it was always something of a quest, like in Middle Big Brother and Middle Big Sister’s tabletop games.  The reason for the All Family Trip was, not just for picking up supplies, which of course they’d do, but for visiting the Plant.  The nearest Plant provided both electricity and water and was the life-source of everything around.  It wasn’t a Geoplant, but the people in the nearby farms, including the Thompsons, were able to coax some crops out of the ground with a lot of hard work thanks to the water it provided that came down a series of well-planned irrigation canals.  Milly’s mother told her that it was very, very important to pay respect to the Plant.  She was not a worshipper, as some were, but unlike others, she believed that the Plants were living creatures and like anyone who worked hard, ought to be thanked every now and again.  The electricity that the Plant had provided had also saved Big Big Brother’s life.  Milly didn’t remember it, being a baby when it happened, but Big Big Brother got really sick and needed surgery.  He needed to be on a ventilator for a while and if the Plant hadn’t been working, he would have died.  The day that the Thompsons visited the Plant was always the anniversary of Big Big Brother getting out of the hospital and being cleared to go home.  The town officials allowed people to look at the Plant from a railed platform, while under guard.  There was always a security detail and the big men with guns always made little Milly nervous, but her mother would pat her on the shoulder and tell her that they were only there to make sure bandits didn’t try to do anything mean to the Plant.  It was a visit when she was five years old that would create a lifelong memory.  She had gotten too close to the glass.  One of the guards shouted at her and one of her brothers shouted back at him.  Her mother tried to coax her away, but she was transfixed.  She touched a chubby little hand to the Plant-bulb’s surface, leaving a little handprint on the fog that coated it.  An inner sphere pulsed inside.  Little Milly thought it looked like feathers – like the feathers on that old albino toma they’d once owned and kept in the shed because the strong sun burnt its skin through its feathers and had made it blind.  The poor thing that was a fragile creature that had died in the past year and Milly had cried for it a lot.  Milly jumped back, sure that some of the feathers had moved.  She screwed up her face, focusing her eyes, scrunching up her nose, hoping to get a better look at what she thought she was seeing.  She was sure there was a face staring back at her – a very gentle face with strange, wide eyes.  It peered at her from beneath a swath of long feathers.  Milly tugged on her mother’s coat-sleeve and pointed excitedly.  “Mama!  An angel!  It’s an angel, just like in the stories!”  “Come along, Milly. It’s time for us to go. We’re gonna have lunch at the café.”  The feathers curled back onto themselves, concealing the face that young Milly thought she had seen.  The inner filament was just a strange, scaly ball once again.  Milly Thompson dreamed of being small, being just five years old sometimes, going on a family visit into “the big town.”  She was certain that she remembered seeing the “face of a Plant” once and that “it looked like an angel,” but, in her adult life, she never was sure that it was more than just a dream. 

[imbiowaresbitch]

Stumble to Your Arms

Pairing: Destiel

Words: 10504

Rating: Explicit

~~

Alpha Dean is on a long road to recovery after an accident ended his career as a firefighter. He had to sell his two-storey house for ranch style one, he's on a strict regimen of medications which are dulling his sense of smell, and no one wants a disabled Alpha with PTSD.

Then his new neighbour, Cas, moves in, and he seems interested.

~~

Dean stepped out onto his back deck into the misty morning, dragging in a deep breath. As usual for the past six months or so, his meds blunted his sense of smell. He imagined it might be how a Beta felt. He stretched, sighing as the damp seemed to seep through his sweatpants and into his skin. Miracle was at his side, her furry warmth pressing against Dean's good leg for a moment, then the blond dog ran down the stairs onto the lawn. The sun was up, but Dean's backyard was still shaded by his house, and the early morning dew hadn't burnt off yet. He leaned forward against his railing, his favourite oversized coffee mug held securely in his hands, and contentedly sighed as he watched Miracle run around the yard. He chuckled as his dog found a knotted rope toy and shook it fiercely, growling even as her tail wagged. Dean wandered into the yard and scooped up a few toys that had been left on the grass the night before. Miracle was a great dog, but how she managed to spread tennis balls and Kong toys over the entire property was beyond Dean. 

 

As he stumbled over yet another ball hidden in the grass, nearly dropping his mug, he swore softly.

 

"Shit! Damn dog!" It was meant affectionately, and he grinned as he scooped up the ball and lobbed it onto the deck. Miracle scampered after it, her claws scrabbling on the treated wood. Dean carefully flexed his bad knee, supported by a heavy brace under his sweats, and winced at the now familiar ache. If the damp continued, he'd be into his stronger painkillers, like it or not.

As he turned to scan the grass some more, he felt eyes on him and lifted his head. Dean's breath caught as he met the gaze of the gorgeous man standing in the next yard in a pair of running shorts and a black tank top that left his arms and shoulders bare. The wind was travelling from the wrong direction, over the houses and away through the yards; he couldn’t catch a scent. So he had no idea if the man was an Alpha like himself, a Beta, or even an Omega. With that build, the latter seemed unlikely. Dean wasn’t picky about designations, though. He liked what he liked. And this guy? This was the new neighbour? Hallelujah!

~~

Read the rest on AO3.

Thanks to @nickelkeep for beta-ing, @castielslostwings for the Alpha read, and max for helping too!

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Blueberries and Cigarettes

Cliff Booth X Reader

Request by @multifandomfanfic : "Maybe something along the lines of you're a hitchhiker and you meet him after he picks you up from a hitchhiking experience and then you guys like make out in his car."

⚠️ Warnings: Language, drug use ⚠️

The sun was unnecessarily hot today as you dragged your feet along the sidewalk; you were quite a ways away from home. The heat blaring down on your bare shoulders signified you that you were going to be burnt by the end of the day. The sidewalk hurt your feet and your shorts felt especially sticky as you continued towards the open road; your cherry lollipop that you picked up at the convenience store on your little adventure stuck to the roof of your mouth. This summer was brutal.

You passed a couple of signs along the way that were covered with graffiti and dirt. This was Hollywood- home of the stars. Maybe you'd have appreciated it more if it wasn't so grimy. The spots that were uninhabited by celebrities and were filled with the normal working citizens of America were less scenic.

"Hey!" A voice could be heard from behind you and instantly you identified it to be one of the girls from Spahn Ranch. A brunette with large eyes and a tooth gap started making her way towards you with a large jar of pickles under her right arm. Eating one of them herself, she practically throws herself onto you with a smile and a shirt stained with pickle juice.

"Hi." You said, only because you didn't want to be rude. You weren't really a fan of Pussy (the girl, not the thing itself) since she was always a bit more spontaneous and over-the-top than you preferred in a person. She was sweet, just a bit too...

You would've finished that thought, but a pickle was suddenly stuffed into your mouth.

"You like? Stole em' from that place up in town." She said, crunching on another one.

You coughed and took it out of your mouth. "Pussy, I have a sucker."

She laughed with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth and made a similar noise to a hissing cat. Her hair was frizzy now that she had been under the sun and her rainbow top was tied incorrectly behind her neck. These small little things about her made her redeemable in a way.

You smiled. "It's okay, you wacko. Yes, the pickles are good, you should try them with a cherry sucker in the back of your throat too."

She giggled and ran towards the bench just a little ways away from where you were walking. You ditched the candy on the ground and continued to eat the cucumber that was forced into your face. The colorful billboards around you were blinding but extravagant, and you didn't know what sight was more interesting; the colors of the advertisements or Pussy sticking her thumb out at the speeding cars nearby as she drank from the jar. "Asshole!" She screamed at the car that threatened to stop, but made a quick turn and drove off in the other direction.

After what seemed like twenty minutes of sitting with Pussy, a yellow car drove up by the sidewalk and stopped in its tracks. You couldn't really see whoever was behind the wheel, but Pussy looked ecstatic.

"It's Mr. Hawaii!!" She said, and pulled your arm up to the vehicle, forcing you and the stranger to come face to face. He was quite a bit older and very handsome, and he had a nice tan that followed all the way down to the hem of his shirt. Meaning: he was tanned everywhere. And boy, did that leave a nice first impression. Longer hair and sunglasses framed his face as he lifted the lenses above his eyes and rested them on his head. A bright yellow Hawaiian shirt adorned his figure and a cigarette was stuck between his teeth, unlit. To say this guy wasn't the most handsome man you've seen would be a complete and total lie.

"Uh, hey." You said, giving a curt wave. You took notice of how he smiled at you; it was full of warmth and invitation. You blushed, feeling your entire body go hot the moment he flashed his brilliant teeth in your direction.

"Well, hello there," He nodded and then looked at Pussy, "You need a ride?"

Pussy must've noticed how enthralled you were by Mr. Hawaii already, so she nudged you in the direction of the passenger side window and grinned as she saw your cheeks flush once more. "Nope, but they do!"

You mentally cursed the girl but also thanked her because goddamn you really wanted to get in the car with this guy.

"Well alrighty then. Hop in?" He finally lit the cigarette and rested his elbow out the window, looking completely and utterly relaxed. He was so laid back that it almost scared you, wondering if he had any ulterior motives for his car ride. But then again, Pussy wouldn't have introduced you with such excitement if she didn't trust the guy.

You nodded in response and opened the car door, giving Pussy a look saying 'Thank you,' as you sat down. The car radio was playing "Bring A Little Lovin'" by Los Bravos and the familiarity of the popular song put any nerves you had to ease. She shut the door behind you from the outside and grinned, picking up another pickle out of the jar and popping it into her mouth. You were about to say something to her through the open window, but Mr. Hawaii was already speeding away and Pussy had busied herself in flipping someone off from the other side of the street.

It had only been two minutes before the man tried to start a conversation, looking back and forth from you to the mirror. "So, how you know Pussy?" He said with a slight southern accent, something you didn't pick up the first time you'd heard him.

"She's just another hippie from Spahn." You said, looking out at the buildings you passed by. Mr. Hawaii drove pretty carelessly.

"Ah." He said, turning his eyes back to the road. Your eyes caught his hand on the stick shift and a bunch of interesting thoughts ran through your head. You knew you probably shouldn't be fancying him in the way you were, but you couldn't help yourself. "Somethin the matter?"

Oh shit. He had caught you staring.

"Oh nothing! Just looking around your nice car." You said, trying to cover up the fact that you were checking him out. He seemed to accept your answer, but you knew deep down that he was aware of your antics. With that sky smile of his and the cigarette between his lips, you knew you were done for the minute you set foot in the vehicle.

Another moment of silence passes as he continues to drive every which way, effortlessly rounding corners and driving through red lights earning a couple of honks and beeps from other cars. Ironically, you felt totally safe.

"So where'ya heading?" He shook his head, letting the glasses fall down into his face and moving his hair in every which way.

"I'm not really in a rush to get anywhere," you said, now anxious that because you didn't have a set destination that you were wasting his time, "You can drop me off here if you have somewhere to be."

He looked at the watch on his wrist and grinned. "Nah, we can keep goin'," he replied.

You played with the hem of your shirt as you stared awkwardly at your outfit. What to do now? It was probably your turn to start the conversation since he had broken the silence the past two times, yet you didn't know what to say. Luckily for you, he speaks again.

"So," he begins, his little western accent kicking in slightly as he speaks. His mouth was drawn into a smile and he leaned over in the seat, staring at you once the two of you reached a red light. "I know a really great ice cream shop a little ways down from here. We could go if you wanted."

"Sure!" You said, hoping it didn't sound too enthusiastic.

...

The car ride wasn't as silent anymore once you had made it to the shoppe. Picking out a strawberry ice cream while your driver licked away at a blueberry one, you held in your astonishment with the beautiful man before you. Sure, Pussy had forced pickles into your mouth and had annoyed you before but goddamn you were thankful that she introduced you to a specimen as fine as Mr. Hawaii.

"That reminds me," you begin, taking another lick of the sweet goodness, "What's your name?"

"Well, what's yours?" He flashes you that brilliant smile once more.

"(Y/N)." You say while watching his body language. Leaning into the table, he gets slightly closer to you and before you know it, he has a hand by your mouth wiping away the straw strawberry.

"I like (Y/N)." He says, laughing as you get all hot and flustered. "My name's Cliff. Cliff Booth."

You realize that you vaguely remember that name from somewhere, although you can't place a finger on it. Mentally shrugging, you see Cliff go for another bite of his ice cream but fail as he ends up with a glob of it on his nose. Just as he's about to wipe it off, you reach out your hand and do it for him. "Allow me, you helped me out the last time." Grinning, you see his cheeks turn a slight red.

"(Y/N), I'm not usually this blunt but uh...you said you weren't in a rush to get anywhere right?"

Wondering where he was possibly going with this, you nod your head in agreement and give him a quizzical expression.

"Well do you want to make out in my car?"

Nearly choking, you stare at him with wide eyes. There's no way someone as handsome and charismatic as him wanted to make out with you. Especially when you first met via hitchhiking. But something told you this was too good of an opportunity to pass up seeing how eager the two of you seemed. You weren't going to let the insecurities get in the way of this one.

"Uh... Yes?" You said with as much enthusiasm as you could muster in the moment, still being somewhat disconnected that this was the reality that you were living in. He takes your hand and leads you back to the vehicle you would always associate with him after this moment and you both ditch what was left of your ice creams in the nearest trash can. Time seemed to slow as you opened up the door on the passenger side and close it, watching as Cliff gets in the driver's seat. He puts a hand along your jaw, leaning you closer to him as he moves his hand to rest along your thigh.

"Are you sure this is okay?" He asks you, noting not only your physical and emotional well-being but also remembering the slightly less average than normal age gap between you.

"Yes, absolutely."

That was all he needed before he leaned in, placing his lips on yours and holding you pressed against his face. He was soft and kind and added very little pressure as he started to loosen up around you and the tight space the car had to offer. It filled you with claustrophobia but the good kind as it felt there was a closeness you wouldn't have been able to reach anywhere else.

"You taste like strawberries and pickles." He says, pulling away from you just to rest his forehead against yours after a while. Sharp deep breaths were heard all throughout the space as you tried to catch your breath, your face a giant smile and your heart a billion butterflies trying to escape your chest all at once. This was where you felt the most at home.

"Well you taste like blueberries and cigarettes, which happens to be my new favorite taste in the world." You say, leaning in for more affection from the stranger but not stranger before you.

...

(A/N): I hope this is okay! Again, I'm so so sorry that it took me this long to finish your beautiful fanfiction request but I honestly loved writing every part of this short story.

With love, Panko Shrimp 💛 🦐

[tf2-hellhole]

can we get some fluffy tf2 headcannons? giving you full creative liberty over this one! :)

Idk if you meant tf2 x reader headcanons or just general head canons, so I did two sections for each merc; the first point is a general headcanon, the second is X Reader.

sorry this took forEEEEEEEEVER, I was just experiencing burnout and working on a prize for a contest on my server (BTW WE HAVE A NEW DRAWING CONTEST GO CHECK IT OUT)

Scout:

Scout is actually really self-concious about his intelligence. He’s not very bright and he knows it, and it makes him feel horrible. He had flunked out of high school and struggled in most of his core classes. He honestly feels really stupid and he hates when people point it out. But luckily for him, a lot of the other mercs understand what it’s like to be looked down upon and empathize with him. Quite a few of them help him relearn the skills he never mastered in school. Engie helps him with math, Spy sometimes helps him with writing, and even Pyro has him read children’s books to them to improve his reading.

Scout absolutely loves little casual dates. Stuff like going out to eat lunch, going to the movies, maybe just cuddling up in his quarters and watching a movie. He tries to plan one every week. His dream date is taking you back to Boston to meet his family and go to a Red Sox game. But obviously, since you’re both in New Mexico at the time, he’s going to have to shelve that dream for a few years.

Soldier:

Soldier is an excellent raccoon dad. At first, the other mercenaries thought they’d all end up dead by the end of the month when he first found them. But surprisingly, they are are very well cared for. They’re all fed regularly and basically have his entire assigned quarters to themselves. He loves every single one of them dearly, even the ones that hiss and scratch him every time. The raccoons, at least some of them, are kind of like weird, quiet dogs, and actually get along pretty well with most of the other mercenaries.

Soldier is a surprisingly very physically affectionate partner, and he’s not at all opposed to PDA. He loves hand holding, cheek kisses, cuddles, the whole nine yards. Whenever he’s particularly excited, he loves to run up to you, scoop you up into his arms, and press a hard, sloppy kiss to your lips. Of course, he’s careful to not hurt you, but he’s a very intense, emotional guy and he needs to express all that love he has for you!

Pyro:

Pyro is and excellent listener, so they’re a person a lot of the other mercenaries depend on to vent. Demo often comes to them to vent about his emotions, Scout, Sniper, or Medic will rant about what’s bothering them, and even Engineer will talk about his stress. And of course, Pyro doesn’t understand a lot of what is told to them, but they’re still happy to help them feel a little better, and they would happily do it a hundred times over to make their friends feel better.

Pyro has a hobby of baking and making candy/treats, and they love sharing everything they make with you. When they first gave you a treat, you honestly thought it’d be burnt or bad in some other way. But to your surprise, it was amazing! They’re actually and excellent cook, but they just love making sweet things the best. They’ll make you just about anything you could ask for without hesitation, but they’re best at making anything sweet.

Demo:

Demo obviously has the potential to pretty emotional when he’s drunk, there’s no doubt about that. But on the off-chance that he’s sober, he’s actually pretty sweet and considerate. Though he still is a rough-housing joker, he’s much more considerate of his friends’ feelings and has deeper and more meaningful conversations with them. He often likes to go to bars with his friends and co-workers on ceasefire weekends, having lots of fun conversation, drinking together, and generally causing chaos around town.

Demo, to put it simply, doesn’t like himself. He’s critical of everything, from his skills to race, because people have always put him down about them. His mother told him he’s lazy and unskilled too many times to count, just everyone makes fun of his eye, and many have made fun of his skin color. But you make him feel so much better about himself. Just the fact that someone so kind and gorgeous is actually with him makes him feel like he’s not as horrible as he thought. There’s been a couple of times where you’ve accidentally almost brought him to tears with a sweet compliment or show of affection, because he never thought in a million years that someone would love him and care for him like you do. He feels so blessed that he has someone like you.

Heavy:

I know the fandom’s decided that Engie is the Team Mom and makes the food, but I also think that Heavy cooks a lot too. He makes all of his own food, so he often makes a lot of extras to feed the team because a lot of them just eat junk food and Medic’s always complaining about their eating habits. Heavy often takes like half the food for himself (he does have a huge appetite and loves food, so he likes to take a lot) and just boxes up the leftover portions and leaves them in the fridge for the team to take. He says he’s only doing it because they can’t work properly if they’re unhealthy, but he also does it because he cares about their health. A little bit.

At first, you wouldn’t think Heavy’s the most cuddly guy. But surprise, he actually loves giving and receiving physical affection. He just doesn’t show it often out of respect for your boundaries, and doesn’t do it around others. His absolute favorite thing is to cuddle you against his chest. Sometimes it’s when going to sleep, or cuddling on the couch, or maybe just a quick hug. He just loves the feeling of your head resting against his chest and your arms trying (and failing) to wrap around his torso. It makes him feel like you’re safe. Nobody could ever get you when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

Engie:

You’d think Sniper’s the only nature nerd on the team, but Engie absolutely loves the outdoors, as well as animals. It’s because his father would often take him out camping every couple of months. It was often the only time he would get 1-on-1 time with his usually very busy father. So he does love the great outdoors, especially that of his home state. He especially loves animals. He was raised on a farm and helped take care of lots of injured wild animals with his mother. He absolutely loves pets and would like to have many when he retires. His dream is to have is own ranch, with horses and cows and a bunch of dogs and the whole shebang.

Engie absolutely loves playing the guitar, so of course he loves playing for you. He learns all sorts of sweet love songs to sing to you. He’s an excellent player and actually has a pretty decent singing voice (think Johnny Cash, he kinda has that singing style). I hope you like country music, because that’s all he’s going to sing to you until you give him some requests or he finds out your favorite artists or genres. You can tell how happy he is every time he gets to surprise you with a new song he learned, and he’d be a giddy, laughing mess if you sang along with him.

Medic:

You’d think this guy takes horrible care of his birds because of the environment he keeps them in, but his birds are actually exceptionally well cared for. He buys them only the best and most expensive bird food, gives them super high-quality water with vitamins n stuff in it, takes them to the vet regularly, the whole shebang. Yeah they get a little dirty from sitting around in his lab, but he always gives them a little bath at the end of the day to get all the blood and guts off.

Medic is honestly such a playful partner. Of course, around his co-workers he’s a little more professional; he still gives you soft touches, a kiss on the cheek, or a big smile, but that’s about it. In private, however, he’s such a sweetheart. He’s always sweeping you up into big hugs, kissing all over your face, and calling you all sorts of adorable nicknames in a variety of languages. It comes as a surprise, because you’d think he’d be a little more formal, but that’s really only for special occasions. It honestly brings him so much joy to have someone like you by his side, and every day he’s going to make sure you know just how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Sniper:

Sniper is an incredibly independent and self-sufficient man, but he’s also secretly a real mama’s boy. He loves his parents dearly and has a particularly close relationship with his mother. As well as sending them money every month, he sends them all sorts of gifts, letters, postcards, and souvenirs. He also makes sure to call them regularly. He goes home every couple of months to visit them, and one could see that he loves helping around the house and chatting with his parents. His mother loved gardening, so his number-1 favorite thing to do is help her in the garden.

Despite Sniper’s obvious lack of knowledge on self-care, he takes a lot of time out of his day to make sure you are happy, healthy, clean, and well-fed. He doesn’t hound you like a helicopter parent but he likes to ask how you’re feeling, if you’re hungry, stuff like that. It feels nice to know you’re taken care of or take care of you himself. If you switch it around and try to take care of him, however, he’s honestly baffled as to why you would care so much as to make sure he’s doing well. He does absolutely love the affection and attention he gets out of it though, it makes him feel loved.

Spy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I have a head canon that Spy has a dog. Her name is Charlotte, and she’s an elderly Chihuahua. One would think he’d buy a French breed, but he found her out in the pouring rain one day and fell in love with her fluffy ears and spunky personality. She’s now 17 years old, extremely frail, missing most of her teeth, and extremely aggressive to anyone other than Spy, but he loves her dearly and pays for all of her medical expenses without batting an eye. And of course, she expresses her thanks with lots of kisses.

Spy loves dancing, and knows all kinds of dances, from flamenco to ballroom dancing to the Charleston to, canonically, disco. So of course, he’s dying to share all of the most romantic dances he knows with you. He’d love to actually teach you how to dance, rewarding you with kisses every time you finally get a move right and laughing softly when you make mistakes. But in reality, he just wants to use it as an excuse to dance with you against his chest and smother you in affection.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hi! Could you write an Arthur Morgan x reader where one of the gang gets lost in a snowstorm and the reader knows how to deal with this weather so she offers to go look? ☺️

A/N: I am so sorry this sort of strayed away from the prompt! Reader and Arthur are the ones who actually ended up getting lost and this takes place just before Colter.... If you don’t like this babe, I have no problem doing another! Also, I’m sorry this took quite a bit! My weekend did not go to plan. I hope you like it! And I’m sorry my hand slipped.... It’s 3.4k words...

***

Arthur cast a glance over his shoulder at you, wanting to make sure you weren’t lagging behind. 

Your horse, a golden palomino you promptly named Butternut, was having some difficulty traversing the deep snow, but with your little words of encouragement and pats on the shoulder and neck, she seemed to be pushing through. 

“You alright back there?” He called over his shoulder.

“Just dandy.” You looked up at him, taking your eyes off of Butternut’s mane. Her hair was frozen and collecting snow but you were trying to wipe it away in an attempt to keep her as warm as possible. 

“Hopefully we’ll find somethin’ soon.”

“That map Hosea gave us said we should’ve found something nearly thirty minutes ago.” You tucked your hands into the pockets of your coat. “You sure you’re reading it right, Morgan?”

“I know how to read a map.” He grumbled, pulling the map out of his bag to take another look at it. 

The two of you had been traveling for well over two hours through the snow in a desperate attempt to find shelter for the gang. They were holed up somewhere just east of Lake Isabella, but you were traveling north along the Spider Gorge. 

“This wind is getting too cold, Mr. Morgan. Put your mask up to cover your face.” You pulled the black and white plaid bandana from around your neck up over your nose. You almost sighed in relief at the warmth provided by the thick material. 

“M’fine.” He grumbled, his deep baritone almost drowned out by the heavy wind. 

“I don’t care if you’re fine right now, Arthur. Within the hour, your nose and lips will suffer from frostbite.”

He said nothing in response to you, blue eyes flickering over the map as his horse continued along the trail. 

“Mr. Morgan, don’t make me ask you again. I won’t be so kind.”

“This cold weather sure does make you mean, Ms. Y/L/N.” Arthur pulled his mask up over his nose, glancing over to you as you moved your horse up beside his.

“I’ve seen what this cold weather can do to stubborn fools.”

“I’ve heard that one before.” He muttered, passing you the map. You brought your horse to a stop, so he did the same. “Think we got side tracked from that little establishment Hosea mentioned. If my thoughts and judgement are correct, I’d say we’re about here.” He pointed to the area between the home of a poor woman the gang had just taken in named Sadie Adler and Colter, the abandoned settlement the gang was aiming to lay low in for a short time. 

“You think we passed Colter?” You looked over to Arthur.

“Had to have. There ain’t no way we didn’t. We should’ve found it by now.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy to miss a whole town, Arthur.” You looked back at the map, your eyes following Spider Gorge. You’d followed that very creek nearly the entire way north. There was no way you’d missed Colter. 

“Hard to tell with these mountains and all this damned snow. Can’t see shit with the wind blowin’ in our faces either.” He grumbled, carefully snapping the reins to make his horse move. 

You folded the map up and followed alongside him. 

“That’s ‘cause ole Arthur Morgan is used to warm weather. He isn’t used to the beauty of the Grizzlies.”

“And you are?” He cocked a brow at you.

Beneath your mask, you wore a small but proud smile. 

“I grew up around Tempest Rim. This weather ain’t new to me, cowboy.”

Your romantic relationship with Arthur was fairly new, so he had yet to learn every detail about your past. He took mentally took note of this detail, reminding himself that he’d have to jot it down in his journal at a later time. 

You let out a sigh, pulling him from his thoughts. Your eyes were focused on the mountains to the west where the sun was setting. 

“Sun’s goin’ down. We’re loosing daylight. Means it’ll only get colder from here.”

“Can’t turn around now.” Arthur shook his head. “Too long of a trip back to the gang. It would take most of the night.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we give up. But we need shelter of some sort. Somewhere a little warm to rest. And the horses need a break.”

“Well if we keep goin’ this way, all we’re gonna find is Mrs. Adler’s burned down house.” Arthur gestured in the direction you had been going. 

“Burned down? What happened to it? I thought you said O’Driscolls just got a hold of her.”

“Micah happened.”

You sighed. 

“She did have a barn or two on her property.” Arthur thought out loud. “They shouldn’t have gotten burnt down with the house.”

“You think it’s worth a look?”

“We can go see about that, or we can go back and try to find Colter.”

You didn’t think that you had passed Colter just yet, but you didn’t want to argue with him. Arguing and fighting in such extreme conditions wasn’t ideal, nor did it seem necessary. 

“Let’s try Mrs. Adler’s place.”

Arthur nodded, clicking his tongue twice to get his horse moving.

***

The sun had gone down and snow began to fall from the sky. 

Arthur was sure that you should’ve reached Sadie Adler’s ranch by now, but he wasn’t sure why it was taking so long. 

“Arthur, maybe we should stop and make camp.” Your voice was quiet and uneasy. You didn’t like the idea of making camp out in the open. It was dangerous. Not only were you open to the bitter elements, but to the chance O’Driscolls finding you too. 

“We can’t stop yet, pumpkin.” He turned his head to look at you. 

You were visibly shivering but you were trying your best to remain strong for him. He needed you to be strong. 

“What happened to you bein’ my strong mountain woman?” He teased, slowing his horse down a bit so he could move alongside you. “Don’t tell me this Grizzly weather is gettin’ to you.”

A little smile tugged at your slightly chapped lips. 

“Course not. Just-Just worried about Butternut. She ain’t used to this. Blackwater is so much nicer and warmer than up here, and that’s all she’s used to.”

Arthur let go of the reins to his horse with one hand, reaching over to pat your thigh. 

“We’ll find somewhere warm for Butternut to stay.”

Your eyes were focused ahead of you so instead of watching Arthur, you were focused on what was waiting for you on the path ahead. The faint outline of what looked like a building made you jolt. 

“Arthur, look!”

He looked in the direction you point.

“That don’t look like Mrs. Adler’s barn.”

“It has to be Colter.” You nudged your horse to make her move faster. You were all too eager to get her out of the elements.

“Y/N, hold on a second!” Arthur called after you, but you were already gone. “Damn it, woman.”

You made it into the abandoned town first, eyes flickering around to make sure you were alone. At first glance, you were alone. The place was vacant. 

A sudden burst of wind made your horses uneasy and made you grasp the hood on your head, fearing it would fall off. 

Arthur came up beside you, carefully inspecting the main street of Colter. He pulled the mask down from his nose. 

“I’m gonna put the horses in this old barn.” He gestured to your right. “Just hope it don’t cave in on them in the middle of the night.”

“Arthur.” You scolded him. He grinned, knowing he was only teasing you. 

“After that, I’ll make sure we’re the only ones here. You wanna get what we need and go into that building right behind you?”

You nodded and got down from your horse. You got as much as you could from your horse and from Arthur’s, taking what you needed as far as bedding and food, and made your way to the building Arthur talked about. 

Unsurprisingly, the house was empty. It consisted of one main room with a large fireplace in the center and three rooms off of the main room. 

You put the things in your hands down on the floor near the fireplace. Slipping the knife out of its holster on your hip, you moved to the room to your right. 

The floorboards creaked beneath your boots. It was evident no one had been there in a long time. There were cobwebs everywhere. The glass to the windows were broken, but they were boarded up too so that stopped some of the bitter cold air from coming inside. 

The room to your right contained a grinding wheel and a workbench. Seeing that nothing would be useful there, you continued to the next room. This room seemed to be a living space of some sort. There was a bed, a dresser, and an end table inside the room.

After searching the dresser and the end table, you went to the final room. It was set up similarly to the other bedroom, except this one had a large bed that was clearly meant for two people. 

In the corner of the room closest to the doorway was a small stack of firewood. You immediately became excited over the sight of the wood. Maybe you could start a fire in the fireplace. The very idea of heat almost brought tears to your eyes. 

***

Arthur slipped into the house, closing the door behind himself. He looked around, surveying the room. 

You were knelt down by the fireplace, trying to start a fire with a matchbook. 

“What’re you doin’?” He asked.

“Trying to get us some sorta heat.” You struck the match and put it into the fireplace. “We need some sorta kindling. The wood ain’t gonna light by itself.”

“Where’d you find that wood?”

“In one of the back rooms.” You stood up, passing him the matchbook. “I have a few newspaper articles from a few weeks ago when we were in New Austin. They’re in one of my saddle bags.”

“But ain’t those for your collection?” Arthur watched you as you started for the door.

“Yeah.”

“Pumpkin, you don’t gotta use those newspapers.”

You stopped at the door, your hand on the knob. 

“We need the heat, Arthur.”

“I got paper in my journal.” He started to pull his journal out but you were quick to stop him. 

“No!” You rushed to his side, stopping him from pulling the journal out of his satchel. “Don’t you dare ruin that new journal, Arthur Morgan. I just bought it for you.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to destroy your newspapers. I know you like to collect all the ones with strange news reportings and those ones from New Austin talk about a bunch of weird things.”

“I’m sure I can find more later on, Arthur.” You kept your hand on his that rested on his satchel. “Do not ruin that journal. Do not tear any papers out. I am using my newspapers so we can have a fire tonight.”

Arthur frowned, shaking his head softly. 

“Pumpkin-,”

“Don’t pumpkin me, cowboy.” You cut him off, leaning up on your toes to give his slightly chapped lips a gentle kiss. “If you so much as rip one paper from that journal, you’ll be relying on only the fire’s warmth tonight.”

He sighed, watching you move across the room and slip out of the house.

***

A few minutes later, you return with the newspapers. They’re folded neatly under your arm. In one hand, you hold a bottle of gin and in the other is a bottle of whiskey. 

“I figured we could do with a little to drink tonight.” You explained as you set the two bottles of liquor down on the mantle above the fireplace. 

“That’s a bit more than a little to drink.” Arthur commented. 

“I didn’t know which one you’d want.”

He nodded, standing up from the chair he had been sitting in. He picked the chair up and moved towards the front door. He propped the chair beneath the doorknob and wedged it there so that no one would be able to come in. 

You watched him and when he turned around to face you, your eyes met.

“Just wanna make sure we’re safe tonight.”

You nodded.

You knelt down in front of the fire, placing the small stack of newspapers in front of you on the floor. 

“If we rip the paper in half and twist it up, it’ll burn better.” You explained, taking the top piece of paper and ripping it in half. It hurt to see the newspaper go, but you knew it wasn’t as important as your life or as Arthur’s. The temperatures were too low to go without a fire through the night. 

Arthur knelt down beside you, assisting you with the process of ripping the newspaper up and twisting it. Then the twisted pieces were placed into the fire below and around the pieces of firewood. 

You picked up the matchbook from the floor and struck a match. You watched the flame for a few moments, then threw it into the fireplace. The paper caught on fire almost immediately. This would give the wood a chance to heat up and catch flame too. 

Arthur’s eyes flickered to you. You were staring into the heat, a little smile adorning your lips. He could see the sadness in your eyes. You really did like collecting newspapers. It was the one thing you enjoyed doing. Everyone at camp knew you liked it too, and sometimes they’d bring you back clippings and papers if they thought you’d enjoy the piece on it. 

Arthur took off one of his gloves and slipped his hand around the back of your neck, drawing you in to him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Your hands are freezin’, Morgan.” You giggled.

He chuckled, letting you go and putting his hands closer to the fire.

“Sorry, pumpkin.”

“I’ll start gettin’ our beds set up.”

“Beds?” He repeated, emphasizing on the s. Arthur looked over his shoulder to watch you go to the bedrolls that were not to far away from him. “We ain’t sharin’?”

“I never said that.”

“You said beds. Our beds.”

“My apologies, Mr. Morgan.” You grinned, looking over to him. “I’ll get our bed set up.”

“Much better, pumpkin. Apology accepted.” He winked at you. 

You stood up straight, placing your hands on your hips. Arthur stood up and stepped back from the fire, putting himself a foot or so away from you.

“If we’re gonna share a sleeping area, how should we go about this? One bedroom ain’t gonna fit us both.”

“It will if you squeeze. I’ll suck it in.”

“Suck what in?” 

“My gut.” He patted his stomach, a grin playing on his lips. You giggled, rolling your eyes. 

“That ain’t the problem. The problem is no matter how much suckin’ in either of us do, we’re too much for one of the bed rolls.”

Arthur looked at the bedrolls then to the fire. 

“Well, we can make it work. You get in both ours and I’ll lay on the floor by you holdin’ you. We’ll be by the fire. I don’t need nothin’ but you.”

“Arthur, I’m not doin’ that.” You shook your head.

“What if I want you to?” He tilted his head to the side. “You know how overheated I get sometimes when I’m sleepin. I don’t need a blanket with all these layers I have on right now plus sleepin’ so close to the fire. But you, Miss Y/L/N, I can’t have you gettin’ cold tonight.”

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t let me get cold, Mr. Morgan.” You smiled. “But I can’t take both bedrolls.”

“I beg to differ, pumpkin.” He picked up his bed roll and put it down far enough from the fire that it wasn’t a safety hazard but close enough that you could still feel the heat. Arthur took your bedroll and tucked it into his own, giving you double the bedding. 

“Arthur, I don’t like it.”

“Well tough shit. I already told you how I’m sleepin’ tonight. I wanna be able to wrap my arms around you and hold you close.”

You frowned as you looked down at the bedrolls. This would mean that not only would you be the only one with a blanket of some sort tonight, but you’d also be the only one not sleeping directly on the hard and freezing cold floor. 

“Arthur, can’t we just try somethin’ else? M’not gonna sleep good knowin’ you’re on the hard floor. And these floorboards are far too creaky and drafty for you to be sleepin’ on them without anything.”

He let out a sigh, glancing around the room. 

“Well, we got another option.” His eyes landed on one of the bedrooms. “We could pull a mattress out here and throw the bedrolls over it. That way we ain’t sleepin’ directly on the floor or the old mattress.”

You thought about the idea for a few moments, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Any other day, you’d pass and sleep on the floor. But it was too cold and you could feel a draft coming from between the floorboards. A mattress could stop that. 

“Okay.”

As Arthur left the main room to retrieve a mattress, you moved the bedrolls out of the way. He came back in a few moments later with the smaller of the two mattresses in the house. 

He placed it in front of the fire and allowed you to fix the makeshift bed to your liking. 

You laid out both bedrolls to cover the mattress and provide protection between you and the old mattress. Then you shed your thick coat knowing you could use it better as a blanket. 

“You think we can both squeeze on to that mattress?” Arthur asked, gesturing to the mattress on the floor.

“We’ll find out in the mornin’ when we see if one of us have fallen off.” You grinned a little, settling down on the mattress. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it beat riding on horseback all night in the snow. “Make sure you grab those drinks before you get down here, Mr. Morgan.”

He retrieved the gin and whiskey from the mantle, placing them down on the floor by the mattress, then he got down on the mattress behind you. You were sitting facing the fire. This put your back to Arthur, but he didn’t mind. 

You took the gin, opened it up, and took a swig. The piney liquor was exactly what you needed. It seemed to fit in well with the atmosphere as you looked at the fire. 

“How do you reckon we got lost?” You looked over your shoulder to him, offering him the gin. He took it and drunk from it before answering. 

“Think we must’ve gotten off the road at some point. Made it feel like we’d traveled longer or something like that.”

You nodded, looking back to the fire. 

“What happened at Blackwater, Arthur?” Your voice lowered and a solemn tone took over. 

Arthur didn’t answer you immediately as he leaned back on his elbow. His eyes studied the side of your face, brows drawn together just slightly. 

“I don’t know, pumpkin. Wish I did know, but I didn’t have time to ask Dutch or anyone who was there.” He tapped the gin bottle against the side of your arm. You looked down and took it from him. 

“You think they’ll be okay when we get back to them?”

“Course they’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“Well, we were gone longer than we were supposed to be. The weather was bad down there by Lake Isabella. Just hope they were able to stay warm.”

Arthur sat up and moved a little closer to you, kissing the side of your cheek once he could reach you. 

“They’ll be just fine, pumpkin. They got Dutch and Hosea lookin’ after them. And Javier and Charles are plenty able to make sure everyone’s okay too.”

“What about John?”

“Well…. John’s a different story.” Arthur sighed. “But m’sure John’s okay too. He’s got dumb luck.”

You nodded, knowing Arthur was right. 

“We need to sleep.” He reminded you, laying down on the mattress. 

You put the bottle of gin down and shifted down to lay next to Arthur. 

“You got any more space over there, pumpkin? M’nearly rollin’ off the edge.” He grunted a little, moving around a bit. The springs squeak under his weight. “I can only suck it in so much, Miss Y/L/N.”

You giggled, thankful that he had the ability to lighten the mood. 

“Good night, Arthur.”

“Good night, pumpkin.”

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm​ @sargeantsea

if your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Miraculous Dnd (7)- “Eggs and Pets”

A bit late but yes! 

So beginning the game, our team settled down to camp in the middle of the night. The stars were bright and the Cracked Moon shone down on them.

Violet (@mantabanter​) had some burnt smores, Mou (@queerymiracle​) made some egg curry, and Lark (@symphonic-scream​) ate an entire egg, shell and all.

Michiah (@none-of-your-biscuits​) stayed away from the flames, but puked seeing that happen.

The next day, they make their way to the town of Blackstone, a town covered with black, warm, cobble like rocks.

Scream: Let’s go the Meliae Ranch I wanna check out Michiah’s backstory

Biscuits: uh

Me: nino’s in blackstone

Scream: going to blackstone now.

Lark almost got arrested via trying to steal a cow (his name his Henry and he’s a good highlander boy) and the cart they were given.

Michiah, deciding to clear his head, takes a walk through the city. He passes by The Jade Turtle and reaches Bruel’s Smithing, the smithing shop Krass recommended. However upon reaching there, he finds a note from a man.. named Ivan,

“I’m in Marblerock Harbor on a trip, sorry. If you need anything meet me there, I uh, guess. -Ivan.”

A loud “DARN IT” is heard next to him and the group catches up to Michiah to meet a young half elven woman carrying a love letter in her hands.

They soon are introduced to- upon following her into her shop next door to the Forgery- Mylene Haprele of The Fantastical- Something- something- Companions and Pets. She can’t remember the name of it either.

She’s got quite the menagerie! And is up to sell some pets!

Michiah quite literally pack bonds with a pitbull like BlinkPuppy whom he names Hermes. 

Mou adopts a little raven with a prosthetic leg and names it  Drighanchu or Dree.

Lark get’s a little shit magpie who keeps repeating his words whom is named Etoq

and Finally, Theseus (@dawritingdragon​) gets a large raven originally named Tiny but now is named Thanatos. Or Big T.

How cute! 

So now that the pet shopping has been over, Mylene confesses that she has a massive lovey dovey crush on Mr Ivan Bruel of the Bruel’s Smithing and was planning to confess to him with a letter because of her agoraphobia causing her to stay inside and she’s distraught that she missed what felt like her only chance.

So for 25 gold in advance, she pays the group to deliver her letter to Ivan in Marblerock Harbor.

Fantastic!

They continue on, ending up at The Jade Turtle!

Biscuits: This better not be Fu.

Me: >:D 

Meet the only guy working in the Jade Turtle. Mr Nino Lahiffe who is the only one who seems to love Lark’s strange fourth wall breaking humor, agreeing with the fox user that the word ‘pog’ is amazing.

This was when I was starting to vocally die cause I had to do my best Nino impression, but Nino explains that there’s been someone stealing from his Potion supply. A little girl with brown pigtails. And he asks for help.

He makes a deal with them to meet him at the Nestlewood Inn the next day to discuss. Leaving them off here.

[hopelikethemoon]

First Words (Javier x Readr) {MTMF}

Tile: First Words Rating: PG Length: 2100 Warnings: Fluff Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1993 after A Dance Owed.  Summary: Reader and Javier spend their last day in Laredo and it’s one of firsts.

@grapemama​ @seawhisperer​​​​​​​ @huliabitch​​​​​​​ @beccaplaying​​​​​​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​​​​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​​​ @livasaurasrex​​​​​​​ @ham4arrow​​​​​​​ @plexflexico​​​​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​​​​ @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​​​​​​​ @randomness501​​​​​​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​​​​​​  @roxypeanut​​​​​​​ @snivellusim​​​​​​​ @lukesrighthand​​​​​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​​​​​ @awesomefandomsunited​​​​​​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​​​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​​​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @ah-callie​​​​​​​ @swhiskeys​​​​​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​​​​​ @u-wakatoshii​​ @space-floozy​​​​​​​ @cable-kenobi​​​​​​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​​​ @himbopoes​​​​​​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​​​​​​​ @frietiemeloen​​​​​​​ @arrowswithwifi​​​​​​​  @cinewhore​​​​​​​ @random066​​​​​​​ @uncomicalhumour​​​​​​​ @heather-lynn​​​​​​​ @domino-oh-damn​​​​​​​ @cyarikaaa​​​​​​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​​​​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​​​​​​ @yabby-girl​​​​​​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​​​​​ @punkass-potato​​ @coredrive​​​​​​​ @pascalesque​​​​​​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​​​​​​ @queenquazar​​​​​​​ @sabinemorans​​​​​​​ @buckstaposition​​​​ @holkaskrosnou​​​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​​​​​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​​​​​​ @jaime1110​​​​​​​ @katlikeme​​

“She’s gonna say abuelo before she gets either of our names right.” Javier said lightly as he walked in from the back patio, sliding the screen door shut behind him. “Wrapped around his finger.”

“Josie’s fond of her Peña men.” You retorted, glancing up at him for a second before turning your attention back to the tomatillos you had boiling on the stove. “I can’t say I blame her, however—“ 

Javier arched a brow at you as he walked further into the kitchen, “However?”

“I can’t help but feel like I’m being a little set up here.” You told him, reaching for the spoon and giving the pot a stir. 

“I told you I’d help.” He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth as he gave you a look. “But I know you know how to make it.” 

“I do know how to make verde. It’s simple.” You retorted, setting the spoon back onto the stone holder on the counter. “But I’ve made this for the two of us, not your extended family.”

You knew Chucho and Javier were just trying to make you feel like part of the family — because you were, but at the same time they’d inadvertently set you up for failure. 

“Hey,” Javier said lowly, hooking his finger into the belt loop of your jeans as he drew you away from the boiling pot. “They’ll love it.” He assured you, smoothing his hand down your hip. “You made a good impression at the wedding.”

“I figured the only impression I made was — that poor girl Javier accidentally got knocked up.” You taunted, cocking your head to the side as you looked up at him. “I’ve never had to do the extended family thing.”

“Me neither.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

You gave him a skeptical look, “You almost married a woman, Javier. You never met Lorraine’s grandparents? Her aunt? A weird uncle?”

He scratched at the back of his neck and glanced downwards, “Touché.” 

“That’s what I figured.” You grabbed the dish towel off the counter and swatted him in the thigh with it. “If you’re going to stay in here, get the blender out.”

You’d had a handful of serious relationships in your life, and every time they got remotely close to really serious you’d quickly found a reason to skirt out of it unscathed. 

Maybe you didn’t want to admit it aloud, but that was exactly what had happened with Lance too. Except it was paired with the sobering realization that you wanted Javier — who had seemed unattainable. 

Who never once gave you the impression that underneath his bachelor veneer, that he could be something like a family man. When you first met him you never would’ve imagined yourself standing in Texas in his father’s kitchen, making salsa verde because his tia was coming over to visit before you went home to Miami. 

“Baby, did you remember cilantro?” Javier questioned as he hauled out the blender and plugged it in on the counter by the microwave. 

“There are so many knives in this kitchen.” You shot him a look over your shoulder. “And don’t the neighbors have pigs?”

“Ouch.” He feigned injuring, clutching at his chest. “I might have to take my offer to take ownership of the verde off the table.”

“Ha. Ha.” You laughed humorlessly, shutting off the stovetop. 

Javier leaned against the counter opposite of you, arms folded across his chest as he watched you work. You could feel his eyes on you as you blended down the sauce in small increments, before pouring them into a bowl to cool. 

“You know, they all adored you.” He told you, once you shut off the blender. “Pretty sure they couldn’t figure out what you were doing with me, but that didn’t change that they adored you.” 

You smiled at him as you cleaned up the mess you had made, tucking the dirty dishes into the sink, “They’ve all made me feel so welcome. Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.” 

You recognized that some of the kindness was probably pity. You weren’t stupid — you were fully aware of the optics of the situation. 

Javier had a history of burnt bridges; a history that his entire family and the whole goddamn town knew about. You and Josie probably looked pretty flammable to them. If only they knew you’d been made flame resistant from all the bridges you’d set alight while standing on them. 

They hadn’t seen him in Colombia after Josie was born. They hadn’t been there through the years that mattered. 

Chucho was probably the only one who actually believed that you’d still be around next Christmas.

“Just one more night, baby.” Javier reminded you as he crowded in close to you at the sink. “Then we’ll be in Miami.”

You sank back against him and sighed heavily, “I’m looking forward to it being just the three of us again.” You curled your fingers around his arm as he curled them around your waist. “I haven’t spoken to my own brother in years. You can imagine how navigating your extended family feels.”

“You do it so well,” He pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Couldn’t even tell you were nervous.”

You elbowed him in the gut, making him swear as you twisted around in his hold. “Fuck off.” You taunted, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips before slipping away from him. “I’m gonna go see what Josie and Chucho are up to.” You gestured to the cooling dish. “Finish our verde.” 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and nodded, “I’ll be out there in a bit.” He told you as you slid the back door open and stepped outside onto the patio. 

Laredo was a nice change of pace from Colombia. Wide open spaces and a little peace and quiet. You almost regretted that the three of you would be moving back into an apartment in a few days. 

You tried to picture what a younger Javier looked like working on the ranch alongside his father. You’d seen the pictures in frames on the walls, the old high school graduation picture stuck on the side of the fridge alongside the pictures of his cousins and their kids. 

It was hard to picture him without the mustache, the worry lines, and the weight of life on his shoulders. 

You shielded your eyes from the sun, looking across the yard towards one of the horse paddocks where Chucho had Josie. 

You couldn’t picture Javier as a younger man, but you could picture Josie growing up here. Christmases, birthdays, family reunions. Snapshots of life that you couldn’t relate to. 

All you wanted was for Josie to have a normal childhood. A happy childhood. Two parents who loved each other, a stable home life, extended family members who cared. You wanted her to have everything you didn’t have growing up. 

You never wanted her to worry. 

“How are you doing, chica?” Chucho called out as he started back across the yard towards the patio. “You get that verde finished?”

“Javier’s finishing it up.” You answered, hugging your sweater around your middle as you moved to sit down in one of the chairs around the stone fire pit. “How’s Miss Josie?”

“Having the time of her little life.” Chucho bounced her in his arms and she giggled and squealed. “Give it two years and I’ll have her out there on one of my best mares.” 

You laughed, holding your arms out to take her as she tried to squirm out of Chucho’s hold to get to you. You could tell she was tired — but she was trying to soldier through it. 

“She’ll never want to leave then!” You kissed the top of her head as she flopped against your chest. “You’re going to need a nap before dinner.” You brushed your fingers through her curly hair as she sighed dramatically. 

“Javier was a natural in the saddle,” Chucho recalled as he sank down into a chair across from you. He gestured out towards pasture. “Not even two and I had him in the saddle with me, going out to check on the fence line after a storm.”

“You could probably convince me to let her ride when she’s three.” You offered with a short laugh, rocking her in your arms. 

“Deal.” He chuckled, adjusting his hat on his head as he sank back in the chair. “You looking forward to the big move?”

You shrugged, “I’m looking forward to being settled. It’ll be good to see our friends again. To get back into a rhythm.” 

“Never thought I’d see Javier settled.” Chucho told you, shaking his head slowly. “But it’s a good look on him.” 

“He’s a really good father.” You smiled warmly, looking towards the back door, you could just barely see Javier through the glass as he moved across the kitchen. “I know the situation isn’t ideal—“

“No.” Chucho cut you off. “Things happen for a reason. They always do. There’s no such thing as ideal or not. The two of you are good together.”

“Yeah, we are.” You agreed, kissing the top of Josie’s head again. “It’s all just very new for me.” You admitted. “The wedding was a lot.”

“Would’ve gone better if Javier had given his old man a head’s up.”

You felt your cheeks warm, “I know.” 

“Everyone was real impressed with you.” Chucho told you, “Javier was worried.”

You frowned, “He was worried?”

“That they wouldn’t welcome you with open arms.” 

“Oh.” You had assumed he meant that Javier has been worried that you wouldn’t fit in. But he’d been worried for you. “I really appreciated being included. I mean, I did show up unannounced.”

He waved a hand, “You know what you need?”

“A stiff drink?” You laughed. 

“A joint.”

“Excuse me?”

Chucho gave you a look, “You didn’t strike me as a tight ass like Javier.”

“I’m not.” Your brows furrowed together. “Just so we’re clear — you mean a joint joint, right?”

“Is there any other kind?” He questioned as he stood up slowly. “Old age takes its toll on you and I’ve found a bit of marijuana helps take the edge off.”

“I would agree but,” You gestured to Josie. “I’m still breastfeeding her. As tempting as the offer is.” You glanced back towards the house, “Does Javi know?”

Chucho shook his head, “Let’s keep this between the two of us.”

You grinned, “Now I really do feel like part of the family.” 

The back door slid open and Javier stepped out onto the patio. “The verde is finished and the blender’s washed and put back up.”

“Look at that,” Chucho clicked his tongue against his teeth. “He cleans too.”

“Funny, pops.” Javier retorted as he strolled over to where you were sitting. “Real funny.”

Josie perked up the second she heard Javier’s voice, scrambling to get out of your arms. “Da-da!”

Javier stopped dead in his tracks, looking between you and Josie. “Did she just—?”

“Can you say it again?” You questioned, smoothing out her curls as you turned her in your arms so that she was reclining back against your chest and facing Javier. “Can you say daddy?”

Javier knelt down in front of you, grinning from ear-to-ear at Josie. “Come on, princesa. You know you want to say it.”

She clapped her hands together, rocking back against your chest. “D-d-d!” 

“Say daddy.” You kissed the top of her head. 

“Are you going to say daddy, JoJo?” Javier questioned, tapping his finger against her nose as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “Say daddy.” 

Josie let out a shrill squeal, “Dada!” 

You grinned down at him, “Javi!”

“Ha ha ha!” Josie cooed, tilting her head back against your chest to look up at you. “Da da da!”

Javier gave your knee a squeeze as he met your eyes, “Baby, you’re gonna have to pinch me.” He glanced back at his father then, “You hear that pops?”

“I sure did.” Chucho smiled at both of you. “You know, I think I’m gonna take the truck out and check on some work I sent the boys to sort out this week. I’ll be back before they show up.”

“You need any help?”

Chucho shook his head, “You stay right here, Javier.” He gave you a knowing look, before heading back in the house. 

“Are we sure she said daddy?” Javier questioned as he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as she babbled nonsensically. 

“I am certain.” You assured him, your heart aching from just how happy you felt. The joy on Javier’s face made everything worth it. The nerves, the worry, the anxiety, the uncertainty. Those two people made it all worth it. 

This was the Javier that no one else saw. The Javier that was madly in love with the tiny baby girl that the two of you had brought into the world. The Javier that was looking forward to being a stay-at-home dad. 

“Now we’ve got to get you saying mommy.” Javier murmured to Josie as he bounced her in his arms. 

[hibiscustea9]

10,000 views on “Fire Walk with Me”!

YOU GUYS. Late last night, “Fire Walk with Me” hit 10,000 views. I am beyond blown away by this. Nothing I have ever written has come anywhere close to the reception this story has gotten. To celebrate, I’m going to make the sort of post I don’t usually make and share one of my headcanons for each of the Stardew Valley villagers (excepting the few who don’t have any real impact on the story, like Gil and the Ginger Island villagers). Read on below the jump to see these (some of which have been shared already in “Fire Walk with Me”) and thank you, thank you for all of your support and reading this story. It’s made me so very happy.

Abigail secretly loves disco music. She hates the aesthetic and clothing of the era, but she will rock out to any of the great disco bands or divas when in her room and with her earbuds in. She would sooner die than have Sam and Sebastian find out about this.

Alex had offers to attend several universities on a full ride scholarship to play gridball, but turned them down out of fear of failing out of school. After high school, he was diagnosed as dyslexic. His teachers were encouraged to just pass him through without making him complete the work, which left him deeply insecure. He now has plans to go to trade school, which he feels might be his ticket out of Pelican Town.

Caroline is the wizard’s daughter, and a lay green witch. Her father was a sailor who was lost at sea and Rasmodius comforted her mother (which is the regret Rasmodius has that broke up his marriage). Caroline’s hair is naturally green. She is not aware of her magic, which manifests mostly as being able to grow any plants she wishes.

Clint left Pelican Town to go to college, only to have to come back when his father died to take care of his mother. He was a voice major and has a lovely singing voice, though he’s often too shy to show it off these days.

Demetrius is a skilled teacher and used to adjunct biology classes at Grampleton Community College to help support his family when Robin was getting her carpentry business off the ground. While he enjoyed teaching, the commute and long hours burnt him out after a year and he hasn’t felt the urge to teach since.

The Dwarf is a huge movie buff, but even more than the films, she enjoys turning around while sitting in the front row to look at the faces of the people watching the films.

Elliott is not a citizen of Ferngill but a foreign national. His posh accent and vocabulary rubbed some townsfolk the wrong way when he moved to Pelican Town. He managed to get on the good side of those same townsfolk when he accidentally knocked his bait bucket all over himself at his first Festival of Ice but continued fishing through it, coming in a respectable second to Willy that year.

Emily genuinely believes in the healing power of crystals and positive thinking, though she also has great respect for traditional medicine. She often asks Harvey medical questions when he’s at the bar. For his part, Harvey truly enjoys being able to talk about his discipline with anyone else, even a crunchy granola type like Emily.

Evelyn stopped believing in Yoba after her daughter was diagnosed with cancer and died young, leaving Alex in her care. She has never let on, given how George makes a point of attending weekly services. Seeing how much Clara suffered, first in an abusive marriage and then going through the failed treatment for her cancer, left Evelyn unable to believe in an all-powerful deity. Instead, she aims to spread as much kindness as she can, seeking salvation in other people instead of worship of Yoba.

George started watching so much television when Alex came to live with him and Evelyn. He didn’t like TV much before then, but got in the habit of letting Alex stay up late and watch reruns with him. While he claims to enjoy westerns the most, he has a not-so-secret love for classic game show reruns. The way the women dress reminds him of Evelyn when she was young, though he thinks none of them are quite as pretty as Evelyn.

Gus used to run a successful restaurant in the Zuzu City suburbs and is a classically-trained chef. The stress of running the restaurant and being in charge of both the front and back of the house took a toll on his health and his doctors recommended he step back and find something less strenuous to do. With his proceeds from selling the restaurant, he built the Stardrop Saloon and now is much happier with his life.

Gunther is a local son of Pelican Town who moved away to attend grad school in library science. He had a job in Zuzu City but moved back when he learned of the theft of the collection. He secretly resents returning to Pelican Town, which he was eager to leave, but feels it is his duty to stay and ensure the library is taken care of.

Haley’s ringtone on her phone is the National Geographic theme. When she was young, her parents took her and Emily all over the world and she grew fascinated with other cultures and other places. She has planned all the trips she wants to take. As much as she and Emily bicker, Emily is her favorite travel companion.

Harvey and his family were very poor when he was growing up. When he was fourteen, his sister contracted scarlet fever and they were unable to afford a doctor’s visit. A local doctor from a clinic came by and left medicine at her own expense. This led Harvey to pursue medicine as a career; he could make much more money in Grampleton or Zuzu City, but he stays on in Pelican Town because they really need a doctor. 

Jas helped Shane with his experiments in breeding the chickens. She has a natural head for science and once she got hold of Shane’s books, she plotted out how to look for recessive genes that would allow for chickens to be bred and emerge with blue feathers. She and Shane have a gentlemen’s agreement to not tell Marnie.

Jodi worked as a travel agent before she married Kent. She always envisioned the trips they would take as soon as they had the money, and then when Sam was grown, and then when Vincent was grown. She sometimes stays up late on the computer, looking at flight plans and planning the most affordable trips that would allow her to travel and see the places she most wants to see in the world.

Kent found comfort in another soldier when they were in the Gotoro prison camp. Though it became physical, it was more about finding something to hold onto than about the sex. His guilt over this relationship kept him distant from Jodi and his sons when he first returned. After confessing his indiscretion to Jodi, they attended relationship counseling. She has forgiven him, but he has yet to forgive himself.

Krobus is technically a liquid.

Leah earned an M.F.A. from Zuzu State, where she met and became friends with Elliott. Prior to attending her program, she interned as an apprentice carpenter in Grampleton. It was these same contacts who told her about Pelican Town and Robin, who let Leah stay at her home while she looked for a house to rent in town. Leah not so secretly has a crush of admiration on Robin.

Lewis, before becoming mayor of Pelican Town, owned a leatherworking business. He misses working with his hands, which is one of the reasons why he always visits the shopkeepers and is insistent on there being booths at the Stardew Valley Fair for the artisans in town to show off their wares.

Linus used to live in Pelican Town. He has a living relative in town. [REMAINDER REDACTED: SPOILERS FOR UPCOMING CHAPTERS OF “FIRE WALK WITH ME”]

Marlon saved George’s life the day of the mine cave-in. He was the only one willing to enter the caves and seek out the last missing miner. It was in the process of doing so that a falling rock blinded him in one eye. Despite his injury, Marlon managed to pull George to safety up through the mine shafts. Though his lost eye made him unable to be an active member of the Adventurer’s Guild, Marlon does not regret anything and would absolutely do it again.

Marnie wanted to be a veterinarian. She did very well in college, earning a degree in animal sciences from Zuzu State, and was on the verge of leaving Pelican Town permanently to pursue vet school when she interned at a vet’s office in Grampleton for a summer. She was so distraught the first time she had to assist with putting a dog to sleep that she gave up on the career and decided to open her ranch. She makes it a point to be present any time an animal has to be put to sleep to give it comfort, even though it wrecks her emotionally.

Maru got into science after Sebastian was completely uninterested in a chemistry set he got one year for the Feast of the Winter Star. She is still passionate about chemistry, despite her other interests in biology and robotics. She was briefly the most popular kid in town, despite being younger than most of the other young adults, when she learned how to make ice cream using ingredients found in any kitchen.

Morris was a child actor who had a small role in Junimo Forest, a nearly-forgotten children’s movie from more than forty years ago. He owns six of the known twenty surviving copies of the film.

Mr. Qi took Sandy on as his ward after her parents, who worked for him, died suddenly. He considers Sandy to be his own daughter and always looks out for her. It’s why the Oasis is still in business despite barely getting any customers.

Pam and Penny used to live above the library. Pam’s husband and Penny’s father was the former curator, who made off with the entire collection on a day when Pam took Penny to an academic competition her senior year of high school. The trailer was the only thing they could afford to move into. This was when Pam started drinking so heavily and Penny started longing so much to live in a house of her own.

Pierre holds a degree in economics that he wanted to use to help boost his family’s business. His secret stash is stock options that he has been investing in since taking over Pierre’s General Store from his father. Neither Caroline nor Abigail knows about this money that Pierre is sitting on.

(I am not the biggest fan of Pierre, in case you can’t guess.)

Rasmodius only built his tower after his daughter, Caroline, was born. He has looked over Caroline and her family ever since. Though his lifespan will last far beyond Caroline’s, he plans to watch over Abigail after she is gone, as well as any children Abigail has, or their descendants. His greatest regret is not being present in Caroline’s life as she was growing up.

Robin wanted to be a ballroom dancer, but at 5′11 was far too tall to actually enter the ballroom circuit. She met Demetrius at amateur ballroom dancing lessons and still knows how to perform any ballroom or Latin dances she learned. Her favorite dance is the tango because of the crisp precision required. After she retires, she and Demetrius have a plan to travel and dance the tango in all of the countries where it is taught.

Sam, despite a love of pranks, only ever really got in trouble once while in high school. He and Sebastian cut class and went to a local park, where Sam skateboarded and Sebastian smoked. A missed trick made Sam get so scraped up he had road rash for a month. After he got home, Jodi read him the riot act for once and grounded him from skateboarding until school was out. That was when Sam got into guitar and started thinking seriously about a career in music.

Sandy met Emily at a holistic retreat. She used to work for Mr. Qi, selling snake oil (literally - his iridium milk sells for a huge amount to those in the know), but was so energized by her encounter and conversation with Emily that she decided to go into running her own store.

Sebastian’s favorite adult in town (other than his mom) is Marnie, who recognizes in him a kindred spirit. Marnie taught Sebastian how to catch frogs when he was young and he still occasionally seeks her out to talk to and ask advice from. He vehemently dislikes Lewis because of his refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Marnie, and wants to see Marnie in a relationship with someone who will treat her right.

Shane was on track to be a major gridball star, and was the hope of Stardew Valley High, before getting in a car accident senior year. He almost lost a leg and had to spend six months relearning how to walk. He began drinking heavily afterward to cope with the constant physical pain. Marnie reached out to friends of his in Zuzu City, who had him come live with them and dry out. He remained sober until three months after he moved back to Pelican Town with Jas, his goddaughter. He started drinking again after working at JojaMart, much to Marnie’s dismay.

Vincent changes what he wants to be when he grows up on a weekly basis. Past desired jobs have included soldier (like his dad), musician (like his brother), teacher (like Miss Penny, but something fun like art, not yucky like spelling), game show host, Flower Queen, surfer, and astronaut. Jodi amuses herself by imagining what her son will wear to work on the weeks where he insists he’s going to be some combination of the above.

Willy is a veteran of the Ferngill Coast Guard. He is from the Fern Islands but vowed never to return after some of his siblings disputed his father’s will and caused a massive feud. He joined the Coast Guard as a way to stay on the water and get away from the islands. He was honorably discharged after suffering an injury on a rescue mission and decided to settle in the most peaceful seaside town in Ferngill that he could find, which led him to Pelican Town.

Once again, thank you all so, so, so much for reading “Fire Walk with Me”! I hope you enjoyed these headcanons and that they give you some insight into some of the way I’ve written characters in the story.

[flatstarcarcosa]

our love grows flowers in the winter

Summary: Three months ago, Slade died. Four days ago, be barged back into the house like a whirlwind, and for a moment all was right with the world. Reese has discovered strangers can wear familiar faces, and to top it off: There is another Slade greeting them over morning coffee and acting as if nothing is wrong.

How can there be two Slades, and what do either of them want?

(part one) (part two) (part three) (fin)

Ship: wilson&wilson Warnings: violence, swearing, slight depictions of gore? there’s a big fight is all im sayin. slade kicks his own ass, finally, his life long dream.  sidenote: i decided to structure this piece similar to the comic. there’s titles between switches scenes, and the timeline isn’t entirely linear. i think it’s still simple enough to follow, but it was a neat exercise.

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'Penitence' Bellevue Hospital, NYC Several Days Later

Slade’s arms are out at his sides in a show of defenselessness, shoulders slumped and head down. The gun sits on the side of the bed between them as Adeline regards him with hard eyes.

“If you still want to kill me, now’s the time,” he says. He’s said it before, of course. Over and over amidst their many fights. She knows he’s meant it every time, but this time it’s different. It’s not the adamant way he normally says it, it doesn’t carry the meaning of ‘I still love you, I’m sorry’, it doesn’t have the same undertones that show he’s only saying it to keep her attention for a bit longer. This time, he is all but begging her to go through with it.   This is not the man she married.  This is not even the man she divorced.

 The man in front of her is a broken shell, a cracking husk at risk of getting blown away by the next winter breeze. The man in front of her is hardly a man at all. She takes the gun, holding onto the feeling of the weight in her hand, and considers it for a long moment.

“No,” she finally says, dropping the weapon. “There’s no point. You’re no more Slade Wilson than the man that murdered my husband. You’re not the Slade Wilson I’ve loved, and hated for so long. You’re nothing now.”  He doesn’t respond. He lowers his arms and still doesn’t look at her, and it fills her with equal parts anger and pity. Anger, that he dares to ask one final favor from her, to give him one more thing after all she’s given.

Pity that he’s been reduced to this. He used to be strong, he used to be kind, he used to be a good man. Flawed, yes, but good nonetheless. What stands before her is none of those things but it is taking the form of something vaguely familiar, yet alien all the same.  “You want me to get closure?” she asks. “There is no closure, not with you, Slade. Not with any of us, and not for any of us. If I have to live with it, if Joey does, then so do you. So that’s what you can do for me. You can fucking live with it and let it eat you alive. It’s time for you feel the consequences of your own actions for once. Get out.”  Slade turns, padding across the room and pausing with his hand on the door.  “I really did love you,” he says softly.  “I know,” she whispers. “That’s the problem, you poison everything you love. Then it withers, and it dies.”  The door is silent when it swings shut behind him.  If Rose thought she was angry when this whole mess began, it is nothing compared to the feeling she is currently experiencing. Her footsteps echo throughout the stairwell as she takes them two at a time. The door to the parking garage bounces against the wall as she barrels through it. She finds Slade loading a duffel bag into the trunk of a sedan. When he turns, looking at her in surprise, she hauls off and punches him in the throat.  “You're not even trying,” she yells. Slade hacks out a cough and massages his neck. “You let me do that.”  “Why are you here?” he asks, hoarsely.  “To ask you what the fuck you think you're doing,” she snaps.  “What does it look like?”  “It looks like you're being a limp dicked coward and running away, again,” she snarls. Slade makes eye contact with her, and the blank look in his eye is almost enough to put out the fire in her chest.  “Why would I stay after this?” he asks. His voice is low, soft, and heavy with grief. “There's nothing here now, I made sure of that, didn't I?”  “So you're just going to wallow in your own fucking bullshit?” she asks, clenching her fists by her side. “I thought the whole point of you going back to Vermont was to stop running! To...to plant roots, or whatever bullshit you kept telling us!”  Slade slams the trunk shut and slams his fists again the metal.  “Those roots just got ripped up and burnt to the ground,” he yells. “I may not have started the fire but I still caused it! Hosun is dead, Barry is dead, Adeline is going to have a crippled arm the rest of her life, and Reese--!”  He stops mid sentence and makes no show to stem the tears.   “I'm not doing this for me,” he says softly.  “...dad,” says Rose. Her anger has finally died, and although she is still trying to process everything that has happened, she sets aside the urge to blame him. She gives into the other, stronger and perhaps more basic urge of being a teenage girl that wants her father, and clings to his chest. Slade won't hug you, repeats Bill in her head, but you can hug him.  For a moment, he does nothing but stand there as she cries into his shirt.  Finally, he returns the gesture, squeezing her like she is a buoy in a storm.  “I'm so sorry,” he whispers into her hair. Before she can respond, the moment is interrupted by the sound of a voice over the intercom.  “Wilson family, please report to the ICU,” says the disembodied voice. “Repeat, Wilson family to the ICU.”

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

'Your Return' At the Same Time Reese wakes up to the feeling of being choked. There is something blocking their airway, and they gag as they attempt to push whatever is in front of them away. Someone grabs their hands and pushes them back down as they make shushing noises in their ear. …Slade?  They want to open their eyes, but their body seems content to fight against the signals they send.  “Easy now, love,” says a soft, accented voice. “You weren't supposed to wake up until they got this tube out, it's almost over.”  “B...Bill?” they finally rattle once their mouth and throat are blessedly empty.  “The one and only, my dear,” he says. He brushes fingers through their hair. “Glad to see you back with the living.”  “Slade?” they ask. The word sears their raw throat, and it does not take much for Reese to figure out they have clearly been intubated. Their eyes begin to obey them once more, and they are pleased to find that Bill has already dimmed the lights above the bed. A team of nurses crowd the room, all of them talking among themselves as they poke and prod at Reese and the machines they're hooked up to.  “He's...” Bill trails off and closes his eyes. They do not need more of an answer. They know him too well.  Slade's probably already on a plane bound for Africa, where he'll hole up in his old ranch and proceed to annoy wildlife until an animal finally kills him and leaves him to bake in the desert sun.  Reese's eyes fill with tears that back up into their sinuses and begin dripping down their irritated throat. A nurse fetches a cup of water and a straw as they begin coughing.  “Can you breathe all right?” asks the nurse. Reese takes a small sip of water and manages to swallow half of it before their stomach protests violently against the intake of fluid.  Slade and Rose bust into the room just in time to watch them vomit into a basin. Long, silent seconds stretch out into minutes.  The nurses continue to do their jobs and one of them bothers to take Slade aside and fill him in on their condition. Reese notice the way Bill shifts, moving to sit more on the bed next to them and act as a barrier between them and Slade. They understand why is he angry and distrusting of his old friend, and they do not blame him for it.  Regardless, they want more than anything for him to move. “But are they going to be okay?” asks Rose. She is standing a step behind Slade, close enough to be part of the conversation and distanced enough to know she is not the intended target of it. The nurse takes a deep breath.  “The doctor will be here in the morning to do another evaluation,” she says. She speaks with a practiced, but no less believable ease that tells Slade this is not the first time she's had this discussion. “There was a lot of damage and a lot of blood loss. I don't know how the shrapnel from the bullet missed anything important, but it did. They're going to have an even more sensitive digestive system than they did before, and we had to take out a few things in their abdomen they shouldn't even miss, and recovery is not going to be quick or easy, but yes. I think physically they'll be all right, eventually. It's going to take time, and a lot of rest.”  “And therapy,” Rose adds. The words are barely out of her mouth when she realizes how inappropriate the comment it.  Slade says nothing in response.  His arms are flat by his sides, and he is clenching and clenching his fingers repeatedly.    “Yes,” says the nurse slowly. “Physical therapy will be important to their recovery. The fact that the shrapnel from being shot didn't hit anything vital is already lucky, but that the blade only nearly snipped their spinal cord is a kind of luck we don't often see.”  Still, Slade says nothing. Whether he doesn't know what to say, or simply can't say anything at all, Rose is unsure. She looks across the room, raising an eyebrow at Wintergreen. He blinks a couple of times before holding his hands up in a shrug. He has never seen Slade look as despondent and defeated as he does in this moment. He's just been told Reese will make a full recovery, and yet you'd think it was the opposite from his demeanor. It's only Reese grunting behind him that causes Bill to turn in time to see them trying to sit from their prone position.  “Hey,” he says, standing off the bed and placing a hand on their shoulder. “Easy. You're being held together with very expensive, medical grade duct tape right now.”  “Back hurts,” they say softly.  “I imagine it does,” says the nurse. She motions for the rest of her coworkers to file out of the room as she moves to raise the bed. “But don't try and sit up on your own right now. I'm going to put in an order for some meds for you. The rest of you need to figure out who's staying and who's going: we only allow one person at a time.”  “I'm gonna check on Joey,” Rose says immediately. She gives Slade a soft pat on the arm. “Okay?”  “...yeah,” he says distractedly.  “Perhaps you should both check on Joey,” says Bill. He crosses his arms over his chest and settles a stern gaze directly on Slade. “I'm sure he'd love to see his father.”  Reese's nurse quirks an eyebrow as she realizes she is clearly interrupting something, and wisely extricates herself from the room. Slade remains silent, standing in the shadows in the corner of the room, and Bill remains planted as the only barrier between him and Reese. Behind him, they let out an annoyed sigh and roll their eyes. It takes a bit of reaching, probably more than they should be doing, to get to the water cup on the table. They empty the contents into the basin they'd thrown up into and use their knee to slide the table away from the bed before chucking the empty plastic cup at the back of Bill's head.  “What the devil--!” he turns, blinking in surprise as he looks down at the cup clattering to the floor and back up to Reese.  “Thank you,” they say. It takes work not only to speak, but to keep their tone level. If there was a ever a time where they wanted nothing more than to be non-verbal, it is now. “Please go.”  “Reese, I don't think-” starts Bill. They cut him off by sharply yelling his name. He sighs and leans down to leave a quick kiss on the top of their head. As he passes Slade on the way out, he says, “I'll be down the hall.”  It is a promise, and a threat.  Although Adeline has always been clear with how much she wants Slade dead, Bill has always seen it differently: Slade is free to live his life and make his mistakes, but he does so knowing that should he ever become too far gone, or cross one too many lines, his oldest friend will not hesitate to remove him from the equation. Slade stays silent, and is admittedly having trouble parsing how an eviler version of himself getting zapped over from a different time-line and wreaking havoc is somehow his fault. He is no closer to making it make sense when the door clicks shut behind Bill and leaves him alone with Reese. His gaze is transfixed not on them, but on the area just towards the left of them, and they tilt their head a little as they take in the sight of him.  The last they'd seen him, he was bleeding out a few feet away from them and they know that even his healing factor can't reverse blood loss from nothing. The bandages peeking out from beneath his shirt tell them he's not bounced back entirely. They also know that many people have speculated over the years that Slade has some sort of subconscious control over his healing, that he can alter it's efficacy depending on how deeply he feels about something. Bill thinks it's why his eye never healed after Adeline shot him.  Reese thinks it's why there's still red spotting the bandages now.  “Hey,” they say. With what looks like a great effort, he turns his head to face them. They wonder if he's slept at all since he came home, even as they know he hasn't. They wonder if he's eaten, even as they know he hasn't. They wonder what kind of mental gymnastics he's doing to concoct a narrative that blames himself for what happened, even as they know he doesn't have to work all that hard for it.  In his mind, it is his fault for not being there to stop it. It is his fault for dying in the first place. It is his fault, and it will always be his fault and no amount of penance will ever absolve him of it.  The whole situation has shades of their kidnapping back in Florida. He'd been so upset and angry with himself about the situation, that for a while he refused to see reason and took it as a sign he needed to leave everything the two of them had built. Back then, it honestly wasn't much. It was a small, fragile thing with no roots to keep it in place and no new growth to push it forward and it was only Reese's indignant insistence that he didn't get to walk away from it that kept it from collapsing.  That was six years ago.  What the two of them have built is much more resilient these days, and Reese has already done the work of keeping it rooted while he was dead. It's time for him to do some of the work for once, and if that means he has to feel all of the sharp edges between them, then so be it.  Wordlessly, they hold out their arms.  Slade hesitates. The urge to turn and run is coursing through him as much as anything and getting stronger with every beat of his heart. He forces himself to take the first step towards Reese. By the time he collapses onto the edge of the bed and into their waiting embrace it is as effortless as breathing. They smell like iodine and rubbing alcohol and the most basic of hospital issued soap, but they smell like home.  “Hey, little one,” he says, voice thick with emotion and soft in their ear.  “Please don't leave,” says Reese. He squeezes them as tight as he dares without hurting them and rests his forehead in the crook of their neck.  “I'm not going anywhere,” he says, and for once in his life it is not only a promise, but a full one. The day will come when it won't be, of course. The day will come when he will unlock that familiar green army crate and he will be Deathstroke once more, but for now... For now he is alive and he is home, and he is not running away from any of it, no matter how many broken and jagged pieces are inside.

[vihilum]

He was starving.

Barely nineteen in a new millennium, and he’d just escaped a house of horrors. He’d been kept captive his entire life, and though he’d taken to the road in Halloran’s pick-up truck, the car had been sitting untouched for nearly two years. The engine was corroding, and after abandoning it just off the freeway, Ace tried to find his own way through the woods. Halloran had taught him how to survive in those woods – it was the only thing he’d ever given him that was useful.

Days spent roaming, he’d been careful not to eat certain berries, and managed to capture a few small critters roaming by. But everything was faster than him, and he was rusty, and the hungrier he got, the weaker and slower he became. He’d gone through the clearing – he didn’t know how long it’d been. There was a farmhouse in the distance.

Halloran had taught him to be more careful, but he stumbled towards the well, tugging the rope until he held a bucket full of water, tipping his head back while he drank.

“Turn ‘round.”

He should have known. Ace lets the bucket drop back into the well, dragging his sleeve against his lips, before slowly turning, gazing at the stranger before him.

He’s got the barrel of a shotgun held at twenty-foot vantage point, and Ace knows if he ducks, he still stands a chance of getting shot in the shoulder. This isn’t the stranger’s first rodeo, and the look he’s fixed on Ace softens from one of scrutiny, to one of curiosity.

“Did you come from there?” The shotgun’s nose lifts, points just behind Ace towards the wilderness behind him.

He’d been living off the lay of the land for five days – did it show? He didn’t exactly have a mirror to check his reflection or maintain himself. Hands raise tentatively – the stranger had the upper hand, and he was caught stealing, so it was in Ace’s best interest to play nice. He slowly nods his head.

“How long you been in those woods?”

He’d walked hours, kept going straight once the car had run out of gas and didn’t slow for any critter, carefully avoiding the wild creatures. He’d seen a bear one evening, standing across the pond from one another, sharing the water source. They’d met eyes, and Ace had remained still while the bear eyed him down. Suddenly, there’s been a rustling from just behind him, and a cub rolled out, before sprinting across the water towards its mother. Once they were reunited, the bear didn’t bother to cast another glance over her shoulder at Ace. She’d simply kept going.

They may not have been the same species, but they were the same kind.

“Kid,” Ace is dragged back to reality, to the stranger with the lamp post behind his crown, a silhouette, features not discernible, “do you know where you are?”

Finally, an answer, “No.” He didn’t have a clue. He’d got turned around in the woods – he hadn’t been attentive to the signs. He’d just kept driving in hopes of making it out in one piece. It’d been weeks since he left Ohio, but the time stretched so thin, it began to feel like he’d been away for years.

“This here’s Kentucky,” the barrel is lowered, nozzle hanging just by the stranger’s knee, and he steps forward from before the light, limping towards Ace, “Where’s home?”

Reluctant, and then, “I don’t have one.”

Something crosses the stranger’s features – it’s like he’s heard this before, and the sheer wistfulness of the passing thought is enough for him to reach out, and meet Ace halfway, “You hungry?”

It started with an invitation to stay for dinner, just eat a little bit and then he’d be on his way. But when the stranger sat across from Ace at the table, watching him devour the meal that’d been placed before him, he offered a chuckle, and a slow shake of his head, “You must be some type of wonder, making it through those woods like you did.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice but to keep going.”

“You runnin’ from something?”

When Ace’s eyes lift, they waver, only to drop back down, a question that will go unanswered left lingering in the space between them.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Ace.”

“Well, Ace, my name’s Leland Walker, but you can call me Lee,” his hand outstretches towards Ace, and though he is reluctant, his hand lifts to slip into the other’s grip, shaking slowly, “where you headed, Ace?”

Another slow shake of his head – not that he wasn’t willing to give an answer, he simply didn’t have one. He was a nobody headed nowhere.

“You got any money on you? A family? Anybody lookin’ for you?”

“No one knows if I’m dead or alive,” a beat, “I like it better that way.”

“I know.” It’s instant, and Lee keeps his gaze on Ace’s, before patting his shoulder as he gets up, “I need somebody to help with the odds and ends of things, a ranch hand if you want an official title. My knee isn’t as good as it used to be, and I can’t pay much, but you’d have somewhere to rest your head, and food in your belly.”

“What’s the catch?”

Lee bursts into laughter, hand clutching his stomach as he nearly keels over, shaking as he laughs. He meets Ace’s gaze and his expression turns stoic, “oh, you were serious?” He sighs, “There’s no catch, Ace, I could have had the sheriff by in fifteen minutes if I wanted to make a fuss, but I didn’t. But if you want to drink from that well, you have to earn your keep, and I’m offering you a chance to.”

Chances were rare. The opportunity gleamed before him, and he knew that if he didn’t take it, he might as well run straight back into those woods and live amongst the wilderness then bothering to step foot back into the world again. But despite being locked away from the world, Ace had a remarkable ability in regards to reading people, and Lee was being genuine.

“Okay.”

Earn his keep, he did. It kept on like this – Ace would wake up at the crack of dawn and set to work on the crops, he’d water them, mow the lawns, any job that required a lick of effort, he heeded the call. He’d shovel manure and sometimes Lee would hobble outside with a glass of water – most of the time, Ace didn’t remember to take a break or hydrate unless Lee came out and joined him. There’d been no one else on that farm with him for nearly a decade. When Ace was far enough, standing in the field, and Lee couldn’t see his face, sometimes he imagined he was seeing someone else.

“How come you never talk about your family?” They’re sitting at the table; the smell of cooked bacon still hung in the air despite the open windows. Ace rips the crust off his toast and dips it in the yolk, before lifting it to his lips, chewing the bread while he stares in Lee’s direction.

It’s a sensitive subject. Lee opens and closes his mouth like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Ace is almost sorry he asked. Then he starts talking. “I wasn’t good at it,” he stabs the egg on his plate, and it begins to bleed, spreading across, reaching the bacon and toast, “I wasn’t patient,” he takes a bite, “I had a wife. I put my hands on her.” His eyes lift to meet Ace’s, “I had a son.”

I had a son.

The words reach him deep within, and Ace’s eyes subconsciously water. It’s a trigger in motion, one he’s entirely unaware of. That word carries so much weight for him. He doesn’t waver, he doesn’t shift focus to him. He blinks it back, and hopes Lee didn’t notice.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Lee rises from the table. Uncomfortable subject leads to moving around, busying himself, dumping the rest of his plate into the trash before reaching for Ace’s to set both dishes in the sink. He stops when the plates clatter together, staring at the sink for a moment, “I burnt that bridge a long time ago.”

There are arguments he could make, a lot of feelings he could unpack, yet this is the simplest answer, “But he’s your son.”

“He doesn’t want to be, and I can’t say I blame him.” The bottle of whiskey resting atop the fridge disappears into his grip, and he gestures towards the table, “you mind cleaning this up?” There’s no trace of malice – he walks away before Ace can answer, leaving him alone.

Ace had kept on till the sun set.

Time passed. They grew comfortable with one another. Sometimes he’d scan the framed photographs gathering dust on the wall – his family was nothing but a memory. Just like Ace, Lee was all alone in this world.

He’d taken to falling asleep on the couch, mouth partially open, a soft snore passing through parted lips. Ace watched Lee take a few long swigs of the bottle after dinner sometimes, but he didn’t think nothing of it. He’d seen Halloran drink like this – it hadn’t made him any meaner. Usually it just made it easier for him to sleep. Ace would relish in those quiet moments, looking forward to whenever Halloran took to the bottle, and left him alone.

It was different when Lee did it. Every time Lee drank, he’d begin to cry. Sometimes he’d ask to be left alone. Other nights, he didn’t want to be alone. It was midnight, and Ace had fallen asleep in the guest room. The nights were longer, and the days were shorter, and Ace tended to rise with the sun. He stirred when he sensed a presence, sitting up entirely when he saw Lee sitting on the seat across from his bed, hands cradling his face.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice is barely audible, and his breathing is shaky. “Did I wake you?” His heads lifts and Ace sees his bloodshot gaze, cheeks glossy from crying.

Ace shakes his head, “It’s okay.”

“I have so many regrets, so many things I wish I’d done, I think about my life every day, and I can’t stand myself. I hate what I see, but I can’t stop, do you understand, Adam?”

It wasn’t the first time Ace had been mistaken for Lee’s son while he’d been drinking.

“I understand.”

It wasn’t the first time Ace went along with it.

“Did I do right by you?”

“Yes.” It’s a lie, and he knows it. But all that Ace can think to offer is spur of the moment comfort. The world had enough grief – Lee had enough grief. Everyone he’d ever confront would remind him to be accountable. Just for now, Ace didn’t have to be that type of person.

Ace would give him one lie so Lee could live with himself.

“I didn’t want it enough. I didn’t want to be a dad, and now that you’re gone, I want to be your dad more than anything in this world.”

Every dream comes to an end. Lee starts to crumble, and Ace helps him to his bed, removing his shoes and draping a blanket over his form. He saunters back to the guest room – Adam’s old room – and exhales forcefully.

His breathing becomes erratic the second Lee is out of the room. Not wanting to be heard, he rushes to the door, shutting it, turning the lock, and backing away until his form touches the wall. He slides to the ground, panting hard, dragging his legs towards his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees, holding himself tightly. Memories sear into his brain – traumas locked away resurface, and he is flooded by thoughts of Halloran, the abuse he’d barely survived, the abuse he’d barely escaped. He clamps his palm over his mouth, spittle staining his flesh as he muffles his breathing, chest tightening at the movement.

It was like Lee aged overnight.

The bags under his eyes were darker, and his eyes were glossed over. It was harder for him to get out of bed without a bit of encouragement from Ace. It was like something within him had broken – the camel had taken too many straws upon its back, and it’d collapsed. Lee was tired, and no matter how hard Ace tried, he couldn’t wake him up.

It was like he’d given up altogether.

“Think you might want to tend to the horses with me?” Ace was sitting across from Lee. He lay in his bed, gaze fixed to the ceiling, wide-eyed, expression blank. “Or we could go for a walk.”

There was no answer.

He’d come by with breakfast, with lunch, with dinner. Most of the time, each plate was untouched. Sometimes, a bite was taken. He always drank all the water, but it was like the life had been absorbed from him.

“Just tell me what to do,” he would have begged God if he believed, but he was on his knees by Lee’s bed, struggling. “Please don’t go away.”

Lee’s head turned ever so slightly towards Ace, and he watched a tear glide down his temple and touch the pillow. Ace tried to smile, but his jaw was trembling. He’d heard him. The words had registered. Leaned over him, Ace’s arms lifted, and he wrapped Lee in a warm embrace, his head buried in Lee’s neck while he hugged him. Lee’s arms rested around Ace lightly, his grip was weak, but with what he could offer – he held him.

Morning came – when Ace stirred, he groaned at the sudden kink in his neck. Form straightening, he adjusted himself in his seat, yawning before his eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, Lee,” he’d grown accustomed to not getting an answer, but when the words passed through his lips, he leaned forward to glance at Lee, noting that his eyes were still open, but the color had faded from his cheeks. “Lee,” hands rose to rest upon either shoulder, shaking Lee, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

“Lee, wake up,” and he knows he won’t, he knows that this is a deep slumber one can’t be shaken from, and Ace knows in his heart that Lee has gone down a path he can’t follow. The dam breaks – he doesn’t know when he started crying, but digits curl around the man’s shirt and he’s lifting him towards him, “Please wake up.”

There’s nothing but silence. No one around for miles to help him, and no one in the whole world to know Ace was even there at all. He could leave. He could walk out the door and leave. But Ace won’t dare. He’s not finished earning his keep.

After trying to come to terms with Lee’s death, he rises from where he sits and goes out back. Takes him about two hours to dig a grave, and he expects it to be hard to carry Lee over his shoulders, but the man he called friend is light in his arms, as though it was his soul that was heavy, and now that he’s gone, his body is a feather in his embrace.

None of it feels right, and he sits besides the open grave, running his fingers through the dirt before he can will himself to cover his form. He watches dirt fill the empty crevices that surround Lee, until his face is entirely covered, and then his torso, until there is nothing left of him at all.

He leaves a makeshift tombstone by the grave; he’d nicked himself carving into the stone but it was worth every inch.

Leland ‘Lee’ Walker (7-9-51 to 3-6-15)

Beloved Husband, Father, & Friend

Lee leaves behind an empty house, and when Ace steps through the doorway, it feels a lot smaller than it did before. Chestnut hues scouring every inch, he approaches a framed image, and removes the photo of Lee’s family. He folds the picture and tucks it into his pocket. He packs his bag with rations, food, clothing, anything he might need. Before he leaves the house, he peels the key from the ring that Lee had left hanging by the door, and links it onto a chain around his neck.

Ace leaves. He walks for fifteen minutes down the road until a car pulls up besides him. The window is rolled down and the man behind the wheel waves at Ace.

“Saw you comin’ down from Lee Walker’s place, you his kin?”

“I’m his son.”

The man considers it, but he doesn’t pose a question. There was plenty he didn’t know about, so he didn’t dare to ask. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Ace.”

“Well, Ace Walker, you need a ride some place?”

“No, it’s okay,” his gaze shifts and he looks just beyond the horizon, “I’ll find my own way.”

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 2/10

Updates for this’ll probably come every couple of days or so, and I’m already bracing myself for a third wave of edits to come. But here’s the next part, and Sharky, I’m sorry about the skunk, but you were the one to mention it to begin with. ...And the resulting idea was too entertaining to pass up.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 4.3K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

It took two and a half days to tear the old boathouse down.

John hadn’t lied when he mentioned wanting him to get in there and take it apart piece by piece, and hovered over him the entire time.

The whole monitoring bit was easily the part that annoyed him the most. Like he was waiting for him to screw up. To somehow find a way to take the already burnt building and set it on fire again through force of will alone. Which, while badass, was well out of his means, all the wishing and praying he’d sometimes do to monkey Jesus aside.

But that didn’t stop John from acting like he had the ability. Riding him further during smoke breaks, or barking order after order at him from the sidelines.

Every other word out of his mouth was a correction. To tell him to go back to read the blueprints again. To check his measurements. To put out that cigarette, pry out that misplaced nail, and to use some of that delicacy he kept on going back to, making Sharky’s eyes want to roll back into his head.

And music? The one time he’d tried to bring any levity to the situation with the soothing sounds of disco, John put an end to it immediately. Really just made it clear how much of a drag he wanted to be, and only wanted to push the point home.

Seeing as John was some big-shot lawyer, he really expected him to have more to do than nitpick and lord this whole thing over him. Like he’d stick around for a few weeks, use the time to get off on whatever power trip he was having over this, and then go back to bugging the department, the local businesses, Nick, shit, anyone.

But John Seed was also petty as fuck.

Local gossip hadn’t painted the guy as a kind or forgiving figure, and while the Seeds as a whole were alright at best and fucking weird at worst, over the past couple of years John had picked up a rep as a colossal asshole all on his own.

Tickets? Contested. Special orders down at the store or for parts? Made with specific instructions that needed to be followed to the letter. If not, he’d demand and get his money back, damning everyone with the fine print others would skim over.

Hell, Sid, one of the guys that worked down at the cattle ranch, had traded paint with him once. He’d done so while stopping at the general store, and hadn’t paid much mind to the fancy car parked in the lot, getting just close enough to leave a small scuff on the rear bumper.

In those cases, a person would trade numbers, or see what they could buff off before moving on, 'cause insurance claims were a pain in the ass, and half of the cars in the county were a little late on renewing registrations anyway. Shit, he was coming up on a year, and hoping to see how much longer he could go before any of the Deps cottoned on to it.

But no, the minute John caught on, Sid recalled the glint he got in his eye. Then told him he’d slap him with the largest fine possible for both the damage and the late reg. All over trading paint. Not major damage, not even a busted tire.

Just paint.

Sid was still spitting mad about it, months after the fact.

He’d even pulled a fast one when it came to setting up big bro Joe’s compound. Digging up some obscure property laws all but guaranteeing the land could be sold to them.

No, no one earned the title of mega-dick by being sweet and accommodating. His bro had smoothed over a lot of ruffled feathers by being pretty okay after that, even with all of the converts chilling the fuck out on his property, but John was still John.

And now he personally had that shit to deal with. Today, two days from now, and who knew how many weeks or months after that.

So much for those chicks wanting and keeping his number too. Hurk told him he’d snagged at least one number on the way back to their drop off, but when he’d tried to call them back the other day he got no answer. Ghosted him like it was nothing, and he guessed he deserved that.

What with getting himself caught and left to doing whatever the hell John wanted for as long as John wanted.

“As per our agreement,” John would remind him, whenever he felt the point needed pushing.

And he pushed.

Whenever Sharky would drop something, whenever he let his feet drag, whenever he cut something and John was ready to whip out his tape measure.

He pushed, and Sharky shot another prayer up to monkey Jesus, hoping that maybe this would be the day to go Human Torch on the situation. Or at the very least a little Cyclops.

Not today, but he’d try again tomorrow.

But on the days when Sharky was working, it wasn’t always just the two of them. He’d full on expected this whole thing to go on in its own little pocket, with Hurk eventually crashing the party due to a need to bust him out or worse.

The day that Joseph first showed up stood out, for one.

Joseph Seed was kind of like Pastor Jerome. Not his first pick to hang out with, considering they were both on opposite sides here. Of the whole preaching and managing earthly temptations, while not super indulging in the kind of shit that he knew he wanted in his life, period.

It came with the territory, being religious leaders and all that, but when Joseph first rolled in to the county, he’d brought his people with him.

And they were an interesting bunch. The People of Eden’s Gate were some kind of holistic commune where it was pretty hunky-dory roughly ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was wondering just what to do about the men and women that wanted the simple life. Living humbly while offering help wherever needed.

While their hearts were in the right place, it was pretty boring stuff otherwise, Sharky decided. He’d even considered joining up for the hell of it only until Hurk reminded him that there wasn’t much fucking to be found there. Pretty women, sure, but the kind more focused on spirituality, and less on how many ways they could Clutch Nixon-ify their daily lives.

But Joseph on his own was a different story.

Watching John go from calmly sipping his drink, doubling-down on just how refreshing it was when Sharky happened to push the wheelbarrow past him, to spitting half of it out when Joseph materialized next to him was fucking priceless.

Greeting him warmly, Joseph pulled a sputtering John into a kind-of half-hug gesture, but John’s cool had already been lost, and in front of his entourage too.

Joe’s wife was with him, plus kiddo number one of a baker’s dozen, carrying them up and on her hip as they talked. With them was also a woman dressed in the modest clothes the Peggies stuck to. She wasn’t trying to stand out, but he didn’t need sharp eyes to see how damn pretty she was.

It had to have been a brother thing, Sharky gathered. Embarrassing the shit out of younger siblings seemed almost natural to Joseph, and it might’ve been petty of him too, but watching John try to get his shit back in line in front of all of them was like hitting the jackpot.

So, Sharky kept on working, sneaking looks over at the group every now and then, and at one point gave an awkward wave back whenever they tried acknowledging him. But whenever John glanced his way, Sharky didn’t hide his shit-eating grin. No, it stayed put for the rest of the day.

The next time Joseph came over, however, he didn’t stop by just to say hi. He approached Sharky, ignoring John’s loud protests, and insisted on helping.

He’d get water, and help with any items that needed anchoring, stepping in whenever it looked like Sharky needed another hand. It was the most contact he’d had with the guy outside of the times he’d tried preaching at the Eagle, and outside of that? He was actually pretty okay to be around.

Well, he personally didn’t have a problem with Joe, at least. John’s irritation skyrocketed with every suggestion, especially when Joseph did the impossible. Told him that with a three-person job, you needed three people, and John? John was capable.

“You sure are,” Sharky added, giving him a wicked grin, and John looked mad enough to spit.

But he didn’t say no. Didn’t even try, or attempt it.

Did more than his fair share under the loving supervision of his older bro, and come nightfall, Sharky realized he’d had a damn good day. It was the lightest he’d felt in weeks, and wasn’t about to turn that down. Not when it helped him jump back into things with some extra pep, and the progress was a boost too.

With the actual frame up and the panels and exterior being added piece by piece, Sharky was starting to feel pretty accomplished. Proud even, because he built this. Yeah, he was being needled at every step of the way, but he used his own two hands to get this set up, no one else’s, and at the end of the day could actually see more of this coming together.

If he kept this up, he’d also have some extra skills to add to his repertoire. Might even get a chance to twist Hurk’s arm into trying out that whole ‘building and flipping’ thing that seemed to be hot at the moment, provided he wasn’t here for the next ten years.

But goals. He had goals to work towards and something to show for it, and it was pretty damn nice in the grand scheme of things.

Today, however, John had a guest again. The same Peggie woman as before, holding a basket, flanked by a few other converts.

Full on expecting to see Joe with her, Sharky wondered if he was waiting out in the woods again. Hell, even John was checking the path back up towards his house, looking past her every now and then to see if he’d catch him.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Sharky kept on working, nothing happened. And long after the other Eden’s Gate members had left, the two kept on talking, having what seemed to be a hell of a time going off of the signals they were giving off.

Smiling, laughing. Facing each other directly as they spoke, Sharky had John’s back to him almost completely, which had his eyebrows climbing up.

And judging by the way she was reacting to John in turn, he had to have been turning on the charm. Smiling shyly, twirling her hair around her finger, hell, he’d put money on her being a two-word question away from dropping everything to get a piece of that.

It was annoying as fuck, really. Dry spell or not, watching John pull it off with minimal effort sucked.

Sure, he had a lot of things working for him. The guy was loaded, for one. Had more than enough money to net himself a fancy car, his large-ass ranch, and a plane. He’d also had a boat up until Sharky had wrecked it, but that was beside the point. Man had more money than sense, and worked the slick lawyer angle for all it was worth. He’d listened in on enough convos to know just how many women in the county dug it. Shit, men too.

Plus the whole property on the water was a real panty dropper. At least going off of what his Auntie had said shortly after John had first bought it, gossiping with Sharky about the costs and expenses that came with it.

Then she promptly turned the talk on its head by launching into talking about John’s ass instead.

His drink hadn’t stayed in his mouth for long, and she’d dropped her forlorn sighing long enough to tell him not to stain the carpet. That he had to hear and think about John’s ass at all wasn’t fucking fair, especially since he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t that much of a draw to begin with. He’d checked.

Whenever John’s back was turned towards him, he’d sneak a look to see what the deal was only to be disappointed. Better asses were walking around Hope County right this moment, his included, but good luck trying to argue that with her. Or even get three words in edgewise before wanting to slap some sense into himself.

Besides, John’s eyes were better. Hands down, Sharky knew they’d been his ticket to pound town on more than one occasion, needing only to show them off and say a few fancy words to seal any kind of deal.

Dropping the wood onto the ground, he crouched down low. Stared at the wood grain of the plank to clear his mind a little before shifting his attention back towards John.

Shit, were they still talking?

He rolled his eyes. Whatever John was saying couldn’t have been that good, and any joke? Nowhere near funny enough to get a giggle like that.

At that time, John turned, giving him a look over his shoulder as Sharky became well aware of two sets of eyes on him. The woman for one, and the pretty boy lawyer that had been eating up every last shred of her attention until now.

A cross between smug and expectant, John gestured towards him.

Well?

Sharky knew three ways to tell someone to get fucked, but picked the least subtle one just in case.

Shocked for a second, John closed his mouth. But soon after, he pressed a hand to his chest, looking hurt. It was pretty convincing, making Sharky feel for a moment that he’d done something shitty like kicked a puppy.

Shame it didn’t reach his eyes. Or match the sharp smile that crept in.

“Smug-ass, smirking fuckface,” Sharky muttered, throwing the wooden plank to the side.

But not even that stuck around either. No, John flashed his pearly whites at the woman with him too, making her melt right in front of them.

Salt in the motherfucking wound. That’s what it all was, but lucky for him he only had a few more hours left to go. Then he could go home, get in a kickass shower and see what Hurk was doing.

Standing up, he wiped his face down with his handkerchief. If this had been anytime during the summer he would’ve been dying, but at least the weather was working in his favor. The breeze took the edge off just enough, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds to soak it all in.

“Oh, Charlemagne?”

Grating right on his ears, the pitch John used never failed to make him want to grind his teeth together. That, and saying his name. Kept on doing that well after being told he could call him Sharky. Shit, even his grandma used it sparingly.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing over there-“ John froze, and all smugness vanished.

That put him on edge. “Yo, you wanna expand on that, amigo?”

Slowly turning around, Sharky caught the small creature on the ground and felt every hair on him stand on end. Black and white, and assuming the posture any pissed off animal would, it stood tall for its small size with its tail up, ready and aiming right at him.

Skunks, though, had never liked him. Guess he’d earned that after the whole kissing one bit. So, staring down what he was sure had to be some distant relative out for revenge, he did what came naturally.

Yelled. Loudly, and might’ve sealed his fate right then and there.

Hit, but not in the eyes – thank Hurk’s monkey Jesus for that – he sprinted down towards the river and dove right in.

Grabbing his cap, he kept it in hand as he bobbed back up to the surface. The smell hit as he gulped down air, and he furiously paddled away from the shore when he realized he’d been followed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

This was fucking bonkers, and it was only getting worse.

Could skunks swim? Did they have a sense for it, or was he getting played by the only one able to? Was this the moment some poor guy was going to have to act out in the movie about his life? Swimming out, smelling to high heaven as a rich asshole laughed it up from the shore?

Fuck, he hoped to hell not, 'cause he’d lived an okay life up ‘til now. And having that be the moment he’d be known for immortalized up on the silver screen was just lousy at best.

Looking back, he watched as the skunk gave him the evil eye for a minute, pacing back and forth as it thought about shooting at him again. Little fucker wasn’t done yet, but couldn’t fire another round off from where it was.

John on the other hand, was watching the whole thing develop from a distance. He hadn’t taken off, but wasn’t laughing like he thought he would either. If anything, his gaze was sharp as he aimed it over at the skunk camping him out, and kept it set in place as he approached the boathouse.

Whatever the hell he had in mind, Sharky hoped he’d do it, and do it fast.

Shit, if he ended up zapped too, that’d also make his week, but for now he needed to keep swimming, and tried to see if he could make his way back towards land. His arms and legs weren’t tired, but the water wasn’t getting any warmer, and this was more of a workout than he’d planned for.

The skunk did not let up, following his drift.

“Seriously? Don’t you got something better to get up to?”

No, it didn’t, and he paddled harder hoping to get some kind of a lead on it. Kicked enough with the intent of making a break for it as soon as he hit land.

Maybe he could shimmy up a tree? Nah, he’d be a sitting duck, worse off there than here. Get back to his car on the way? His keys were swimming in his pocket right now, along with-

Aw, dammit. There went that phone. Sputtering into the water, he coughed around the word that would’ve come out otherwise, then gave it up to keep on swimming.

On the edge of the shore, he dragged himself up and out and booked it. Didn’t see anything waiting for him, but didn’t waste time either. Just hit the nearest patch of tall bushes and stayed low.

Waiting was the worst part. Waiting, listening, and trying not to make too much noise on his end. Every branch, twig, and leaf was the enemy now, and he wasn’t about to let that skunk get the drop on him again.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Loud squeaking sounded off in the distance, and he poked his head out from the bush.

Scanning left and right, Sharky checked for black and white. That and movement. When neither seemed to be present, he pushed his way forward and stepped out into the open.

Letting out a slow breath, he shook his hat out and slipped it back on. Then took in a tentative sniff as he raised his arm. The smell hung around him like a cloud, and getting a bigger whiff of it only made him want to gag.

Peeling the shirt off, he wrung it out, and gave it a smell as well. Now that made his eyes water. With his luck his jeans were just as bad, and he didn’t bother checking. Just pulled them off to get some of the water out of them too, and resigned himself to drip-drying the rest of the day outdoors.

“Charlemagne? You can come out now!”

John. Guess he’d found a way to deal with it after all.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

��Ugh, fucker. Took him long enough.” Groaning to himself, he slung his wet clothes over his shoulder and started heading towards the clearing.

“Well, there you…are?” John gave him a quick once over as he walked past, and pursed his lips. “Hmm.”

The woman with him didn’t even try to make eye contact. Just kept her attention directed elsewhere, her cheeks tinted red.

Great. Not that he was trying, but his odds of getting even a pity look in passing had all but tanked.

“Yo, I don’t wanna know what you did, but after that? My bullshit meter’s maxed, so fuck off.”

Prying his keys out of his pocket, Sharky unlocked the trunk of his car and threw the clothes into the back of it. Between the gas cans and propane tanks he’d thrown back there often enough, skunk wasn’t going to add much to the smell in there.

“Fuck off? That’s not very kind, all things considering.”

The trunk dropped, and he might’ve used more force than necessary. “Kind?”

“Not even a thank you?” John eyed him from a distance, smug, but only for a second. “After chasing off your little tormentor? Such a shame, really.”

“That I ain’t feeling, what? Warm gratitude towards you right now? Like happy and fuzzy shit?”

John scoffed. “Hardly.”

“'Cause you’re making a whole lot of noise for nothing, and I wouldn’t be out here busting my ass at all without you to begin with.”

“Oh, my dear Charlemagne,” he watched as John withdrew a blue handkerchief from his jean pocket, and held it up to his face to cover his nose, “I’m hardly the one at fault here.”

His patience snapped like a brittle twig. Rattling off words as fast as they came to him, Sharky scraped for the bottom, tried actively to come up with the most out of bounds targeted insults he could conjure up just to see if he could wipe what he was sure was a smirk right off of John’s face.

Then nearly crashed into the woman who had stepped into his path. Making full-on eye contact now, she gave him a hesitant, but soft smile. “I think this might help.”

In her hands was a towel. A nice, fluffy one, and she held it out towards him.

The anger drained out of him as he stared at her. Almost as if someone took an ice bucket and dumped it right over his shoulders.

Gingerly taking it, Sharky let it dangle in the air between them. “Uh, thanks?”

“Of course. For anyone in need, and you certainly seemed to be. Considering your lack of…clothing in general right now.”

Still had the underwear on, at least. Blushing five different shades of red, he quickly wrapped the towel around himself. “Yeah, um, thank you again, miss.”

She nodded, and headed back towards John. “We’ll be heading out, but can we expect you at mass later tonight?”

John lowered the handkerchief just enough for Sharky to catch the frown. “If work allows it. There’s still a lot left to do here, but you can let Joseph know I’ll try.”

Sharky pulled up a corner of the towel to wipe his face, no longer able to hear much of what was traded between them. Lady hadn’t even flinched at the smell up close, and the towel was a nice one. Nicer than any of the kind he had at home, and must’ve been in the basket she had with her.

Yeah, got that pity look after all. Great.

Staring down at his feet, he removed his cap to run a hand through his hair. The hushed voices behind him eventually stopped, and by the time John walked over he’d switched to looking out over the water.

“That was interesting.”

“Sure,” Sharky said, tired of arguing with him.

“And there went our progress for the afternoon. At least the morning wasn’t a complete waste, but our guest derailed us thoroughly. And I don’t believe you have a change of clothes, do you?”

Sharky rubbed his shoulder, and felt it twinge in response as he moved it. He badly needed a cigarette, and was desperate enough to see how many times it’d take for a wet one to actually light.

“Do you?”

“Look, I get what you’re asking. And no, I’d have-“ John raised the handkerchief again, and the words died in his mouth. “You know what? Forget it. And if you’re looking to avoid this shit, don’t stand downwind of it. Basic Scouting 101 right there.”

Sharky whipped the towel off and threw it at him.

John snatched it out of the air, keeping it from smacking him in the face. “Leaving?”

Not bothering to check behind him as he approached his car, Sharky flashed him the finger.

“You can take this with you, you know.”

That John didn’t take the bait, or fight him on it, only irritated him further. He also seemed to be following him, and Sharky scowled at him. “Don’t need it.”

John sighed, and put away the cloth. “Charlemagne, it’s a towel, and you’re still soaking wet.”

“And maybe I want the draft to help dry the swamp ass brewing here, okay?” he shot, climbing in behind the wheel. “And if you wanna give me shit for cutting out early, tack on more hours as a penalty, whatever, I’ll deal with that next time. Or, hell, the time after, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m still standing here talking any of this shit with you. That work?”

The thin line John had pressed his lips into told him otherwise, but he said nothing. Just crossed his arms before holding out the towel to him one last time.

Sharky hit the gas and didn’t look back.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Fireworks Factory

Content warnings: Fire and Explosions mention (no people or animals harmed), petty theft, dubious livestock handling and mentions of Ohio.  As usual, all the names have been changed to protect people’s privacy.

This is a story of man’s hubris in the face of Chemistry and Large Animals.

So back in northeast Ohio in the early 1950’s there was a Fireworks factory that was a source of pride and income for the county until 1955, when it burnt down in a spectacular conflagration that the local department was unable to handle.  When TK, the Owner asked to rebuild on the site, He was told, Quote:

“No.”

So they moved the site over the next county and into Chagrin Falls, Ohio, and were allowed to build on the condition that they do something to prevent another warehouse fire.  The owner at the time had a fairly splendid idea:  Instead of one LARGE warehouse that would burn up entirely in the (very likely) event of fire, he instead built many small warehouses scattered about some pastureland so that if something caught, only one small building would go up in flames.  Brilliant!

This did have the side effect of needing a great deal more land upon which to operate, and a good businessman doesn’t let a resource just sit there, so TK stumbled upon another brilliant idea: he’d ranch the land and make some money on beef!  He had actually gone to the county fair to purchase some Angus when he happened upon something he could sell for an even greater mark-up and generate some local interest.

Which is how TK ended up purchasing half a dozen Bison cows and a Bull Bison named Buford.

And it worked!  People flocked from near and far to see the extremely exotic and very endangered “Buffalo”, allowing him to promote the company with a Symbol Of The West (TK was not a man for irony or cultural considerations) and for a while all was well.

Buford turned out to be a remarkably amiable and easygoing animal, content to graze in the pastureland between the sheds and be lead around by his nose-ring.  This was because, TK would eventually learn, because his goals and Buford’s generally aligned. TK wanted him to graze in the front pasture in view of the highway and look Majestic? Buford loved the front pasture, as it had lots of clover.  TK wanted him to go into the back pasture and make some more Bison with the Ladies?  Buford loved his ladies.  For a time, all was well.

The following Spring TK’s path of knowledge was about to take a fairly sharp learning curve.

It was March, the very first vague overtones of spring were appearing and my Mom and her family were on their way to the Cleveland Garden Expo to steal plant cuttings for their garden this spring. Great-Great grandma Polly was never a fan of people who sold what could easily be seeded, having been a victim of various british famines, and had passed on her love of anarcho-communist agriculture to her children.  

Once, as a small child Mom saw Granny Russell pinching some seed pods off the hollyhocks at the Expo and hissed “That’s ILLEGAL Granny!”

“Whos’ going to arrest an old lady?”  She said, continuing on to pocket some peony cuttings in a the dozens of plastic bags she brought along special for the occasion.

Nearly exactly 50 years later I would have the exact same conversation with my mom at the mendocino botanical gardens.  We still have the daylilies she nicked from there.

This year, they were delayed as Buford had decided that his snow-covered pasture was Cold, but the plowed black asphalt that had been soaking up the sunlight looked nice and toasty, and had leaned on the fence until it collapsed under a ton of wild bovine.  Mom’s family approached as he toppled the fence, and they slowed down the Buick, watching as he trotted merrily down the hill and contentedly lay down on the hot strip of tar to chew his cud, blocking the road in both directions of the state highway.

“It’s only a cow Bobby, blow the horn and he’ll get up.” Granny prodded her son in the shoulder.  

“It’s a sight more than a dairy cow ma.” Said Grandpa, demonstrating common sense for one of the exactly four times in his life. “I’ll go in and tell TK his bull is loose.”

It took grandpa Bobby a good long time to locate TK because mom recalls traffic being backed up in both directions for a good mile that she could see before the two of them came out.  Some people honked.  Others tried baiting him with hay.

Buford was extremely committed to his warm road experience.

“BUFORD!”  TK hollered, as though admonishing a naughty child. “Get out of the road this instant!  What have you done to your fence?  Do you know how much money you’re costing me??”

Buford chewed his cud, flicked his ears contentedly, and farted.

TK went to grab Buford’s nose-ring, and for the first time in their partnership, Buford tossed his snowplow of a head away from TK in defiance.

The man was stunned, but instead of realizing the gravity of his situation, he got angry instead.  Assets weren’t supposed to be RUDE!

“Alright then.  I’ve got Machinery for this!”  he declared, which stuck my seven-year-old mother as an odd thing to say.  

He returned shortly thereafter with A Tractor.

Buford watched the tractor approach with a distant sort interest, and only minor objections as TK tied a rope around his neck, having just enough sense to not tie it into the ring.  TK fired up the tractor again, and drove it up the small incline toward the broken fence, believing the power of the machine would convince Buford to return to the barn.

It.

Did not.

This being well before the time of Bill Nye, TK was unfamiliar with the idea that Inertia Is A Property Of Matter, and that an object at rest would tend to stay at rest, especially if the object is a large Bison that just got into prime cud-chewing position. Buford continued to sit, glaring with moderate annoyance at TK and his tractor, puffing and grinding with the effort of Not Moving a one-ton animal.  TK revved the tractor as much as the incline would allow, and realized that the rear wheels were spinning in the snow, digging into place.  Now at a somewhat precarious incline, TK stopped the engine, got off and slapped the Buford’s rear with his hat.

“Dagnabbit Animal!” He bellowed.

It was at that moment that one of the outbuildings exploded.

This was not an uncommon occurrence on the Factory, but it was a very large and sudden explosion, and a lovely Hollywood SFX style fireball with lots of half-completed fireworks rocketing dramatically out of the flames and generally causing a loud and sudden ruckus.

Buford, in his heightened state of annoyance, had his emotional RPM at an already at a high idle, so as a natural course of action, he very suddenly accelerated into Blind Panic.  Buford launched himself away from the noise with the speed and power of a freight train powered by rocket fuel, bellowing low and furious and my mother suddenly understood why the ancient Greeks they’d been studying in school were so on about Bulls.  This was definitely something you’d pray to not meet on a dark night.

The tractor, already at a precarious angle, was immediately pulled over with a thunderous crash and into the road to block traffic again, before the rope connecting them was cut on a piece of shrapnel, and Buford barreled through the fence on the other side of the highway and into the Cow’s pasture, who, in a unanimous decision by the Bison Hivemind, decided that if Buford was running, they should run too, and together they stampeded through the fireworks factory, sending employees diving into the snowbanks to clear the way and barreling through the split-rail fence on the far side of the property, escaping into the backwoods of Ohio.

“d-DAGNABBIT!” Bellowed TK.

“Maybe we should go to the Garden Expo tomorrow.” Suggested Grandma Ginny.

“No! Pasty-Anne is there already and She’ll pinch all the new Hollyhock varietals herself if we don’t get there in time!” Said Granny Russell.

They ended up driving over the shredded remains of tractor and miraculously avoided getting a flat tire, and Granny got her Hollyhocks that year.

It took TK close to a year to locate all seven animals and there was some speculation that the cows had given birth in the woods of near Chagrin Falls and that resulting offspring lived out there for some time, hanging out with the deer and dairy cows and occasionally terrorizing hunters.  To this day, people with deer tags will come back from the woods claiming to have seen Ohio Bison, but they also come back claiming to have met aliens and bought meth from Jesus so take that how you will.

Recently, Mom ran into someone from the area and she had to ask about the fireworks factory.

“Oh that place burned down years ago!”

“Oh thank god.” Said mom. “I’d have been so sad if it had gone out any other way.”

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Paypal, as telling funny family stories on the internet is my only source of income right now.  Thank you for reading!

[twodudesandamovie]

Brokeback Mountain Review

In lights of the recent Academy Awards, Eric nominated one of the more famous Oscar snubs in Brokeback mountain. Both Alex and Eric also were interested in how we look at LGBTQIA+ movies today as opposed to 15 years ago. Among the things discussed post-review were how Brokeback Mountain wouldn’t be controversial today, and how it was really a common love story with a twist.  Alex's Review: With ample amounts of dread, I dove into this over two hour long Lil Nas X origin story. Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger's characters seem to have no real jobs and instead aimlessly move sheep from Point A to Point B for no fucking reason and get paid for it. I guess maybe this is what being a cowboy entailed, but I assumed you became noted as a cowboy by your big hat combined with a denim jacket/jeans. Who could say really. Their relationship starts out on a confusing note, where you feel uncomfortable as to the willingness of both parties, but eventually you get to see a very complicated narrative form about what it was like to be secretly gay in 1963. The parts of the film that involve herding sheep are actually very entertaining, to have a peek into a lifestyle of a man who has to be able to pick up an entire sheep. I do not want or think I will ever need that ability, but I digress. The movie itself, although dreadfully long, hit on a lot of complicated emotions. Trying to follow three or more unsuccessful relationships throughout the course of the movie felt emotionally taxing at times, but not necessarily in a way that I could not relate to. At the end of the day, it sort of is just a complicated love story, but with a twist on it. Not unheard of in film, but I've never had to experience it told in this form. Usually, there's a "taking two girls to the same dance" kind of humor to it all. Eric and I talked about how we were interested to see the movie post 2005, where the stigma of homosexuality is no longer prevalent in society. That being said, the movie felt like its overall message was sort of missed, if it actually had a message. However, the movie's goal to hit me on an emotional level was extremely successful. I went from not caring about the characters and very confused about the purpose of their work or why they could not foster a single healthy relationship, I ended being surprised I had somehow burnt through 135 minutes and very sad Jake and Heath did not get to live their best lives. Although I think it was a actually a REALLY good movie on a lot of levels, I wouldn't say I necessarily enjoyed the film. It is surely the highest rated movie on Rotten Tomatoes I have seen in the past decade that is not a comedy or animated, the entire sentiment was sort of lost on me, because in 2020, the year of our lord, I now have shame that I am straight. Funny how time works. Alex's rating: 7/10

Eric’s Review: Growing up, Brokeback Mountain was of course known as “the gay cowboy movie.” Looking back, that summary was so minimizing for a movie of this excellence, but that’s what 14-year-old me knew it as. That shortsighted synopsis carried with me to this day, I’m not proud of it, but that’s what it stuck in my head as. It generated tons of controversy when it came out in 2005. Primordial fuck-noodles like Rush Limbaugh and Don Imus weren’t short on homophobic remarks of Brokeback, and the owner of the Utah Jazz even pulled it from his movie theatre’s. Every conservative with a mouth cavity couldn’t contain their uproar. Then it was snubbed at the Oscars. Crash won Best Picture instead of Brokeback Mountain, it shouldn’t have hurt this movie’s legacy, but it did. Crash seems more deeply-ingrained in my memory than Brokeback Mountain, and maybe because society at that time wasn’t ready for a movie quite like this. We put it in a box and never let it out. After watching, I deeply felt that it didn’t matter what Jack or Ennis’ sexual orientation’s were (as it shouldn’t), it was a love story about two exceedingly lonely human’s trapped in a society that wouldn’t accept them. Fast-forward 30-40 years from when the movie was set, and it didn’t seem like much had changed. I don’t think Crash deserved Best Picture over Brokeback Mountain, but am I angry that it happened? Not really. Awards are decided by those that vote on them (no shit), and that particular group of people felt Crash was the better movie. C’est la vie. I usually don’t enjoy dwelling on plot in my reviews but I owe it to the reader to say what this movie is about since so many people refer to it as “the gay cowboy movie.” Two men, Jack Twist (played by Jake Gylenhaal) and Ennis Del Ray (played by Heath Ledger), show up at a trailer in Wyoming asking for work for the summer. A jack-of-all-trades (including being a jackass) named Joe needs someone to keep an eye on his sheep for him up in Brokeback Mountain, so he sends them up there to do so with a horse, some guns, and some cans of beans. As they spend time on the scenic heart-swelling Brokeback Mountain, they fall in love. But it’s the early 60s, and as they prepare to go back down the mountain, they know they can’t carry out their romance in the narrow-minded rural landscape of their country towns. As Ennis points out, people get killed for that. This act ends in Jack and Ennis having a fist fight, as emotionally repressed men tend to do. Focus-in on blood Jack gets on his shirt and save this for later. Post-tryst, Ennis gets married and Jack is a rodeo boy making passes at bull-tamers. But then Ennis gets a postcard one day. The screenplay does a wonderful job seamlessly transitioning time as they carry out their romance over the years. They’d tell their wives they were going on “fishing trips,” when they were really going to the mountains for some whiskey and love-making. We can tell Ennis truly does love his wife Alma (played by Michelle Williams) at the start of their relationship. They have two kids, but the kids cause quite a strain on their marriage. And as the years go by, Ennis’ commitment issues due to his parents abandoning him as a child rear their ugly head. Jack marries a fellow rodeo girl in Texas named Laureen (played by Anne Hathaway), but their relationship is more of a business transaction. She approaches him to engage in some tumbleweed-rodeo-secks. She just wants a kid and a husband to help in the machinery business. This is okay with Jack and their marriage lasts, even with Jack’s infidelities. Ennis’ doesn’t. Alma knows about Ennis and Jack’s relationship and they grow apart over the years. Ennis’ commitment issues aren’t exclusive to Alma, though. As the film progresses, we see he applied this to every relationship in his life: his future girlfriend, his daughter’s, and even Jack. It’s why their relationship ultimately fails. Jack had dreams of living in the Wyoming country and being a cattle rancher with Ennis, but Ennis often laughed at the notion. Ennis remembers a time when his dad showed him a dead body of a gay man beaten to death. It’s hard to say if he’s ashamed of their relationship, or just scared. Even when he breaks down to Jack and exclaims: “YOU MADE ME LIKE THIS!” The audience knows he doesn’t really mean it, he’s just a scared Wyoming cowboy with commitment issues. The last act starts with Ennis attempting to mail Jack a postcard, as that’s how they used to communicate (I really do love how much more romantic a postcard or a letter can be than a text), he gets a return to sender that says “deceased.” Ennis calls Laureen and talks to her for the first time in his life. She knows he was one of Jack’s lover’s and seems slightly annoyed but at peace with it. She gives him a bogus story about how a tire popped and Jack drowned in his own blood, but Ennis knows he was beaten to death for being gay. His whole bitter-tough-cowboy facade crumbles, as it only could with Jack, and Ennis and Laureen have an honest moment reminiscing over the man they both loved. We could tell Laureen’s relationship with Jack was no longer transactional, as they aged together and learned to love each other. She tells Ennis he was cremated and that Jack always wanted his ashes scattered on Brokeback Mountain, and that he should go visit his parents. When Ennis arrives, we immediately know the family dynamic: Jack had a typical tough-exterior-tobacco-spitting farmer dad, but a sweet gentle mom where Jack may have gotten the familial love and understanding that Ennis never got. He used to tell his dad that he wanted to buy a home near him with Ennis and help with the ranch. Even through the dad’s tough exterior and his insistence on Jack’s ashes being scattered at the family plot and not at Brokeback Mountain, we can tell he’s truly a father who misses his son. There is something fragile to him, something so melancholy that it expels a grieving scent throughout the home. Jack’s mom tells Ennis that she left his room as it was when he was a child. Ennis goes up there in the most heartbreaking scene of the movie, and sees Jack’s roots. Then he wanders over to the closet and finds the shirt Jack was wearing the last day they were on Brokeback Mountain. The blood from their fight is still on the sleeve. It’s a symbol of how Ennis pushed away everyone he’s ever loved, but especially Jack, the love of his life and only one who ever truly understood him. He takes the shirt, not only as a memorial to Jack, but as a reminder of how he’s treated his loved ones in his life. In the last scene, Ennis’ daughter visits him. Previously, we learned Ennis was largely absent from her life. Ennis doesn’t even know who she’s currently dating when she visits him, and then she tells him she’s getting married. At first, Ennis wants to cling to his cold exterior, the shell it seems he’s reverted into even more since Jack’s death. But we see him finally shed this shell, as he tells his daughter he’ll be at the wedding. Maybe he heard Jack’s voice in his head reminding him to be a bit more brave, as after Ennis’ daughter leaves, he walks over to his dresser where Jack’s bloody shirt hangs. Cut to credits and let me cry. The first point that caught my eye about directorial choices in this movie was the stark juxtaposition of the dream-like Wyoming mountains and the depressing domestication of Wyoming and Texas rural home-life. The resplendent colors we see in the mountains and the off-whites and browns we see in Wyoming and Texas are purposeful and are painted with sincere artistry. Ang Lee had a balloon and he grabbed it with his gentle directorial touch then smeared it with peanut butter and sent it off into the clouds. The acting was downright phenomenal. I believe this was the first movie where Heath Ledger was taken seriously as an actor and not a Hollywood heartthrob. It was pre-Dark Knight and he may have never gotten that role if it weren’t for this movie. I know I pointed it out in my Little Women review, but the talent it takes to change your accent like that is befuddling. Ledger is Australian and is talking in a down-home Wyoming drawl. His portrayal of Ennis is the beating heart of this movie. I’d like to say he was a strong and silent type, but really he was weak and silent, sort of a metaphor for the way our society treated sexuality back then. I could review each actor’s performance, but the truth is: it was utterly superb all around. Only with this kind of acting and screenwriting can a movie achieve such character depth and nuance. Rating: 9.5/10. One of the best film’s of the twenty-first century. Did this deserve the Oscar over Crash? Fuck yes it did. I liked Crash but it wasn’t the all-around masterpiece Brokeback Mountain was. It’s also insane to think how far LGBTQ+ has come in 15 years, as I think Brokeback Mountain wouldn’t even be close to as controversial today as it was back then. Do I think it might’ve won the Oscar? Probably not. The academy hasn’t evolved much since then. R.I.P. Heath Ledger too, it was so sad watching a deceased actor at the top of his talent in one of his best roles.